#Missed fiddling with the seas

[captainkurosolaire]

I've decided my next treasure.

[tkbrokkoli]

just watched the de fanart montages to fire escape in the sea and cleaning out the rooms by sea power again. and. words can’t contain how it makes me feel. you guys 👌👌👌

[pucksandpower]

Sea Cows and Koalas

Oscar Piastri x Reader

Summary: Oscar just wants to impress his girlfriend, but those stupid sea cows keep stealing your attention

The South Florida sun beats down mercilessly as Logan’s sleek speedboat cuts through the turquoise waters of Biscayne Bay. Oscar leans back, soaking in the warmth and salty sea breeze while fiddling with the wakeboard bindings. Out of the corner of his eye, he catches you gazing wistfully over the side of the boat, peering into the depths.

“Looking for something, babe?” Oscar asks with an amused grin.

You turn towards him, eyes lit up with anticipation. “Manatees! I read they’re really common around here.”

Logan chuckles from the driver’s seat. “Good luck spotting one. Those sea potatoes are sneaky.”

“Sea potatoes?” Oscar snorts. “Is that an American thing?”

“What can I say? They’re fuzzy and they float.” Logan winks at you. “Like your man’s ego after a few drinks.”

“Hey!” Oscar reaches over to playfully shove Logan’s shoulder. “I’ll show you who’s all fluff out there.”

With a devilish smirk, he secures the final binding and stands tall, wakeboard in hand. Logan revs the engine, kicking up a spray of saltwater that has you giggling. Oscar shoots you a roguish wink before plunging into the azure waves.

Moments later, the corded rope connecting Oscar to the boat grows taut. He rockets out of the water, carving through the air with effortless grace. A wide grin spreads across his face as the wind whips through his hair.

“Woohoo!” Oscar hollers, riding the wakes with the confidence of a seasoned pro. He slices through the swell, spraying diamond showers that glisten in the sunlight.

You watch in awe, your face bright with adoration. But then something in the water catches your eye — a gray shape moving just below the surface. You gasp, scrambling to the edge of the boat and nearly tumbling overboard in your excitement.

“Manatee! I see one!”

Oscar’s brow furrows in confusion at your sudden outburst. His distraction costs him, and with a yelp he loses his edge, slamming into the unforgiving surface in an unceremonious belly flop.

Logan cackles, easing back on the throttle as Oscar bobs up, sputtering saltwater and treading water in a daze. “Smooth moves, Pretty Boy!”

Your face falls as the manatee disappears into the depths once more. “Oh no, I missed it!”

Oscar doggie paddles over to the boat, his ego more bruised than his body. “You just had to get distracted, didn’t you?” He grumbles, reaching up with pleading eyes. “A little help here?”

You bite your lip, trying to stifle a giggle as you grab his outstretched hand and haul him aboard with a grunt. Oscar flops down beside you, leaving a puddle on the immaculate deck. Water streams from his hair and board shorts as he shoots you a petulant glare.

“Really? Sea cows over me?”

You can’t help but laugh at his childish pout. “Oh, don’t be such a baby! You were amazing out there.”

“Was I?” An impish grin plays across Oscar’s lips as he inches closer, leaving a trail of water in his wake. “Prove it.”

With a mischievous glint in his eye, he snakes an arm around your waist and pulls you into a sopping wet embrace. You squeal in surprise as the cold lake water seeps into your clothes.

“Oscar! You’re getting me all wet!”

“That’s the idea,” he murmurs, drinking in your flushed features.

Logan shakes his head in amusement. “Get a room, you two.”

Oscar is only too happy to oblige, capturing your lips in a searing kiss that steams up the air around you. His fingers tangle in your damp hair as the passionate embrace deepens, banishing all thought of manatees or wakeboarding from your mind.

At least until a crashing wave erupts nearby, dousing you both in a shock of frigid saltwater. You yelp, breaking the kiss with a sputter while Oscar sits back with a sheepish grin.

Logan cackles from the helm. “Easy, lovebirds! There’s no lifeguard on duty.”

You shoot the American a playful glare, then turn back to your breathless boyfriend. Tenderly, you brush a stray lock of dripping hair from his brow, cradling his chiseled jaw in your palm.

“You know, as fun as watching you show off is ...” You lean in until your lips brush tantalizingly against the sensitive skin just below his ear. “I prefer my Oscar humble and pliant.”

A visible shiver races down Oscar’s spine as your breath ghosts over him. He swallows hard, brown eyes darkening with unspoken desire. “Your wish is my command.”

You can’t help but smirk at how easily he surrenders to your whims. With a soft giggle, you trail a line of feather-light kisses along the sharp line of his jaw, relishing the way his breath catches in his throat.

Logan lets out an obnoxious whistle. “Alright, alright! Keep it PG over there!”

Reluctantly, you pull away, leaving Oscar dazed and slightly flushed. He watches you with a wistful smile as you return your gaze to the gently lapping waves, ever vigilant for signs of the elusive sea cows.

The hot sun soon dries the lingering drops clinging to Oscar’s reddening skin. He leans back with a contented sigh, idly toying with the wakeboarding rope while studying your rapt profile. The salty ocean breeze tousles your hair in an enchanting dance that has his chest swelling with unabashed adoration.

How did he ever get so lucky?

Oscar isn’t sure how long he sits there mesmerized before Logan’s laughter shatters the peaceful reverie.

“Hate to break it to you, man, but I think your girl likes manatees more than you!” Logan teases, slapping the throttle with a cheeky grin.

Oscar blinks, bemused, until he follows Logan’s gaze to you — still transfixed on the glassy waters below. A fond smile tugs at the corner of his lips. Of course you would fall under the spell of such gentle, unassuming creatures. His beautiful weirdo.

With a dramatic huff, Oscar flops down beside you, draping his head in your lap and batting his lashes up at you imploringly.

“I’m sorry, what was that?” He asks in an exaggerated sulk. “When did sea potatoes become more interesting than me?”

You giggle at his playful antics, giving his chiseled jaw an affectionate scratch. “Don’t worry, buttercup. There’s enough of me to go around.”

Oscar arches a skeptical brow. “Is that so?”

Without warning, he rolls over and nuzzles his face into your stomach, peppering your cotton shirt with sloppy, pouty kisses. You can’t stifle your laughter as his ticklish stubble assaults your sensitive skin.

“Oscar! St-stop it!” You squirm and swat at him halfheartedly, breathless with mirth. “We have company!”

Logan shoots you a roguish wink from behind the steering wheel. “Don’t mind me, love birds. Just pretend I’m not here.”

Oscar grins wickedly, ignoring Logan as he continues his relentless assault, until finally you cry for mercy between gasping peals of laughter.

“Okay, okay! You win!” Tenderly, you cup Oscar’s face in your hands and guide him up until your noses are brushing. “You’ve got my full, undivided attention. Happy now, Mr. Needy?”

“Getting there,” Oscar murmurs, drinking in your flushed, breathless features with unfiltered longing. He leans in until your foreheads are touching, savoring your intoxicating closeness. “All I need is one more thing ...”

You regard him with an arched brow, unable to resist playing along. “Oh? And what’s that?”

Rather than answering directly, Oscar closes the scant distance between you, claiming your lips in a searing, all-consuming kiss. You melt against him with a contented sigh, cradling the back of his neck as you lose yourself in the embrace.

Logan whistles again from the helm. “Not gonna lie, I’m a little jealous over here!”

Reluctantly, you break away with a breathless giggle, nuzzling your flushed cheek against Oscar’s. “Okay, okay. I think you’ve successfully reminded me who has my heart.”

A smug grin tugs at Oscar’s lips. “And don’t you forget it.”

He punctuates the smug remark with another lingering peck. But just as he’s withdrawing, you catch a fleeting glimpse of movement beneath the waves — a sleek gray shape growing closer and closer.

You gasp in delight, headbutting Oscar as you scramble upright. “There! Did you see that!”

Oscar blinks owlishly, rubbing the spot on his forehead where you clocked him. “I … what?”

“A manatee!” You exclaim, bouncing excitedly on the cushioned deck. “It was right there! Oh, they’re even more adorable than I imagined!”

You shoot Oscar your most imploring puppy dog eyes, bottom lip protruding in an irresistible pout. “Can we … get one?”

Oscar’s brows climb toward his hairline. “Get one? As in … you want to adopt a manatee?”

You nod fervently. “Why not? They’re the sweetest things!”

A chuckle rumbles up from Oscar’s chest as he regards you with a blend of adoration and bewilderment. Leave it to you to fall head-over-heels for a three-ton marine mammal.

“And just where do you propose we keep this … pet manatee?” He asks, struggling to keep a straight face.

You open your mouth, then falter, momentarily stumped. A crease forms between your brows as you ponder the dilemma. After a beat, your eyes light up with your stroke of genius.

“The bathtub!”

Oscar barks out a laugh, loud and uninhibited. “The bathtub? Seriously?”

You level him with a deadpan stare, completely serious. “What? We have a big tub.”

Shaking his head in disbelief, Oscar pulls you into a fond embrace, lips brushing your forehead in a gentle kiss. “You’re certifiable, you know that?”

A contented hum rumbles in your throat as you snuggle deeper into the circle of his arms. “Maybe. But you love me for it.”

“That I do,” Oscar murmurs, resting his cheek on top of your head as the sun begins its descent over Miami’s shimmering coastline. “That I do.”

[teddybeartoji]

彡 GUARDIANS OF THE TINY SEA URCHIN BOY

☆. contains: satoru gojo x gn!reader; fluff!!!, non-curse au, idk what this timeline is but both reader and satoru are adults and gumi is tiny + reader is his kindergarten teacher wc: 3k

you love you job.

you love taking care of the kids, teaching them, caring for them. and that of course applies for megumi, too. he's a pretty quiet kid, very straightforward and doesn't seem too affected by his guardian being away on a work trip when you ask him about it. you've never met the guy but it always makes you snicker whenever megumi's nose scrunches when he's brought up. or the little pout that tugs on his lips – the grumpiest and the fakest one to ever be conjured in the history of the world. you know it's fake; you've seen the care and devotion the little boy puts into the cards and the art he makes, always promising to show them to his keeper in a hushed voice.

but then one day... he's a quieter than usual, stares at you a little more than usual (he's so sure you don't see him)(or the way he's fiddling with the hem of his shirt). it's playtime and you're comfortably sitting in a bean bag, laughing with some other kids, eyeing the little sea urchin from the corner of your eye. after giving the other kids an impossible mission to complete outside, you usher the boy closer.

"gumi, come here."

and he does the cutest little eye roll known to mankind but nevertheless makes his way over to you. not pressuring him, you let him stand while you ask about the new comic book that came out (you heard him mention it once or twice) and oh, how his eyes widen. you surpress a giggle at the boy, and when you see his eyes flick between you and the bean bag you're sitting on, you finally motion for him to take a seat next to you. and he does.

he still feels a little unsure; like he wants to keep the information threathing to spill inside, despite the want to tell you all about it. seeing this, you decide to start talking about your own little hobby, doing big gestures as to try and crack a smile (it works)(he tries to hide it but you know better). and in the end he does relax and subconciously leans toward you when he starts introducing the comic.

digging out your phone, you let him show you the characters, the powers they have and how cool they all are. the smile on your face is making your cheeks hurt; glad that the boy feels secure and safe around you to tell you all this. some other kids bump in a few times, showing you the worms they dug up or beg for a napkin to wipe their face after they sneezed so hard that snot flew out. megumi's little scrunched up face only made you laugh more.

after a while you can feel him melt into you, his talk almost slurring, his eyes growing heavy. deciding to put away the phone, you move in your spot but a pair of hands clutch onto your arm. "'m not going anywhere." you assure him with a gentle smile as your hand finds its way into his hair, pushing through the unruly strands. he doesn't look at you, hiding his face into your shoulder.

"if i tell you something, do you promise you won't tell anyone?"

it's a ghost of a whisper, buried into the sleeve of your shirt. vulnerable.

"never. i would never."

it takes him another second to gather up the last pieces of confidence. the last pieces of strenght to open up his little tiny heart.

"i-i miss him." his little hands stay clutching onto your sleeve, not enough to stretch the material but just enough to let you know how hard this is for him. how he's taking the big step, how he's inviting you in with a shaky voice.

the hand in his dark hair never stops its movements, staying combing through it, feeling him nuzzle deeper into you. "oh, sweetheart. i'm sure you do." you hum quietly. "he's gonna be back really soon though. i promise."

you feel him nod against you. when another kid emerges from the outside, you quietly ask for her to whisper and swallow another giggle when she starts dramatically tiptoeing closer to you, ready to tie a newly made bracelet over your wrist. it's beautiful.

you stay like that for almost two hours – sitting in the bean bag with your arm locked securely in megumi's hold as he's letting out small little snores. you don't mind. you don't mind at all.

most of the kids have already left, their parents having come after them. they always greet you with a smile and thank you for keeping their kids happy and safe and it always warms your heart. there's nothing else you'd love more than this. and how the kids say bye... some of them hug you, some of them land a fat smooch on your cheek, one of them always shakes your hand (very firmly)(a lot of people could learn a thing from him). and all of them always wave with the brightest smiles on their faces.

you're eyeing the warm late afternoon sun from your spot on the bean bag when you hear the door open and close, a pair of loud footsteps approaching. megumi's guardian, surely.

tearing your eyes from the sun, you turn to meet the man and oh... his mouth is ajar as if he was about to yell out for megumi in the most dramatic way possible (he was). his crystal blue eyes shine in the very same light you were just basking in, taking in the sight before him. his lips close and reform into the warmest smile before he's whispers a small hi.

"hi." you answer with a smile of your own. nobody told you that he was gonna like that. sure, you've seen megumi's drawings but no offense to the boy – they do not do him justice. this has to be to most handsome guy you've ever seen. and he's your age, too. "you're here for megumi, right?"

he nods, leaning on the doorframe. "satoru."

after you introduce yourself, he repeats your name, tasting it on his tongue - and you're now stuck with the memory of one of the older faculty members saying something about how it's always very unprofessional to have crushes on the parents and whatnot. and whatnot.

he makes his way over – keeping his eyes on his beloved boy, sleeping oh, so comfortably in your arms. the way his chest is rising and falling steadyly, his fingers digging into your shirt. his heart swells.

kneeling in front of you, he smiles at the boy before turning his focus to his keeper. the golden sunlight is making your eyes shine and when you give him a shy little smile, he knows megumi is in safe hands.

"you're new?" he whispers.

"mhmm. and you don't actually have to whisper." satoru's eyes flick to megumi and you understand his question without him asking it. "oh, he's out. like a light. we've been sitting here for what?" you look at the clock before continuing. "two hours?"

satoru's smile widens at that. "he's kept you locked up for two hours?"

raising your hand from megumi's hair, you cover your mouth, hiding a grin. "he's cute, no harm done."

satoru hums. "he is. pretty sure you're the first teacher to see him like this."

"yeah." lowering your hand back down, you brush a few strands from his eyes, making his nose scrunch up and making the two of you swoon over the pouty kid. "i'm very honored."

satoru's eyes flick back to you. there's a certain softness in them, despite the deep dark purple peeking out from underneath the skin under them. you don't know what kind of a job he has but you know it sometimes requires him to be away for a while. it must be hard for him too; hard to leave his boy in some stranger's hands. but satoru is already convinced that you're no stranger.

"i'm glad he has you."

you feel a tint of blush making its way over your cheeks because of the sincerity in his tone. he really means it.

"but seriously, though? you've been sitting in the same spot for two hours? you're telling me your feet aren't dead?" he deadpans with a smirk.

lowering your head, you confess: "i have to go to the bathroom so badly."

he almost doubles over, holding a palm over his mouth, hiding the laughter ready to burst out. you try to glare at him but it's useless – you're holding your laughter with him a second after.

your body shakes with the giddyness, making megumi stir and you still. caressing his cheek, you try to make sure he ignores the two giggling adults next to him and stays asleep.

"and yes, my arm is dead but c'mon, how was i supposed to say no to this?" as if on cue, megumi lets out a content breath, his lips molding into his usual little pout, which in return makes the two of you look at him fondly. again.

"no, don't worry. i understand – he's a real charmer." he whispered. "what got him in this mood, anyway? nothing happened, right?" his eyes widen as the words leave his mouth, concern painting his face in a second.

trying to soothe his worry, you immediately shake your head. "no, no. he's okay. nothing happened." satoru exhales deeply, hand covering his heart. you don't think he even knows how worried he looked just now.

"but?" his voice breaks the small silence. "i feel like there's a 'but' here."

giving him a smile, you look the sleeping boy locked onto your arm. "i promised i wouldn't tell, though..."

"wha-?" the grown man's lip pull into a pout and you realize that the boy really does take after him. "but i need to know..."

deciding to make sure that megumi is still in fact, sleeping, you check his breathing – steady as ever, so you beckon the man a little closer.

"he missed you that's all."

it's so quiet. not even a whisper but satoru hears the words loud and clear. his eyes fall to his boy once more, something so tender in them – making your own heart beat a little louder. "but don't tell him i told you. i promised i wouldn't."

"never. i'd never take this from you." he rests his one hand beside your thigh on the bean bag, while the other goes to smooth over his cheek. the poor boy would die of embarrassment if he were to witness all this affection bestowed upon him. "thank you for telling me."

your gazes meet again, the love in them mixing together into a warm goo, filling the room and connecting the three of you forever.

"of course."

there's a comfortable silence between you and the man. a man you met mere minutes ago but when he bends over to pick up the bracelet made out of red string and continues to tie it back on your wrist without a word, you're certain you know him. or maybe knew him in another life; whatever the case, you were meant to meet again.

you thank him but he casually brushes it off as if it wasn't a big deal, as if he did it on instict, his fingers already itching to do things for you.

"is your bladder about to explode, by the way?" teasing. his tone is teasing and you can't help but reward him with another smile. his favourite pay.

"yes– yes, it fucking is." it takes you a second to realize what just slipped from between your lips. eyes growing twice their size as you stare back at satoru, who's, of course, already silently laughing, the corners of his lips reaching his ears. "you heard nothing."

"this is who's been taking care of the kids? wow, does the faculty know of the foul mouth you're sporting?"

"hey!" you whisper shout at him and before you can even register your own movements, your free hand lands a soft punch against his strong chest. it's always very unprofessional to have crushes on the parents. this time real heat paints your cheeks and the tips of your ears.

"sorry– i'm sorry." the only thing you can do is to mutter a quick apology - you're embarrassing yourself and you can't even run from it, the sleeping boy keeping you in your place and you're honestly ready to spiral because you just kind of hit (punched, even) him - this is definitely you crossing a line. and what if he really gets mad now and actually tells the faculty—

another wave of laughter breaks you from your thoughts. and then his own hand makes contact – landing firmly on your thigh; not to far up to make it like that but it's there to reassure that he's not a snitch of any kind and that's he's truly happy to have you as megumi's teacher. nothing better than having a real person looking after your boy.

but it is satoru gojo – it wouldn't be him if he didn't tease you properly at least once. "you're so cute like this. curses and hits being thrown here and there, whew! a great rolemodel for the kids, for sure."

you're burning up, almost afraid that you'll wake gumi with the heat emitting from your body. satisfied with the result, satoru gives your thigh a squeeze. "i'm kidding, i'm kidding. no harm done, right?"

he's gazing at you, borderline burning his eyes into yours with a sly smirk and now you also understand why megumi keeps calling his guardian very annoying every chance he gets.

"yeah." you quirp. "anyway, my ass is getting really sore now, so i think it's best to-" in attempt to escape the stealth attack on your heart, you try to change the topic, even when the weight of satoru's eyes stays on you for a second longer.

you shift your gaze to megumi, raising your hand to his face, gently tracing down his nose and booping it. you brush more of his hair from his face, trying to pull him from his dreamland as softly as you can. "megumi, look, who's here...."

his lips press into another pout as you land a second boop on his nose, finally making him stir. his eyes open ever so slowly, gazing up at you as he raises his fist to rub out the sleep.

"hey, gumi."

satoru's voice stills the boy. his body doesn't move, his eyes alone turning from you to the source of the voice. and the second his green eyes meet the blue ones – he's burying his face into the crook of satoru's neck. you observe their little reunion; megumi's hands are so tight around his neck, most certainly choking the man but he doesn't mind. he doesn't mind at all. satoru's arms wrap around the boy, holding him safe and sound right to his chest, to his heartbeat.

"missed me?"

megumi grumbles something into him, something unintelligible but most definitely something that resembles a kid's insult. satoru's mischievous eyes meet yours and you bite your lip, trying to look as stern as possible when the both of you know that you're just holding back another beautiful smile.

"let's go home, yeah?"

megumi nods as satoru stands with the boy in his arms. when you start pushing yourself up, he lends you a hand - his warm fingers easily engulfing yours in a quick motion. the touch lingers, skin on skin longer than needed. neither of you say comment on it – the butterflies in your stomach would gladly do all of the talking for you. you walk them to the door, staring at the sleepy little megumi, who's glancing at you over satoru's shoulder every two seconds.

you hand satoru megumi's pack and then gently place his jacket over his shoulders before giving one final rub on his back. "be good, yeah?"

he hums back, green eyes finding safe haven in yours. another smile is threathing to show when you wink at him, so he buries himself back into satoru's neck, making the man laugh loudly. this is the first time you hear it for real. it ripples through his whole body, his chest –shaking megumi as it does, it bounces off the walls of the room and finds its way to you and your ears. it's irresistible – you can't not respond with the same when he does it, the current just pulling you along. and it'll keep you for a long time.

"it was nice to meet you. finally."

"oh, you've been waiting for this?"

...

yeah, you walked right into that one, you admit your unfortune, but luckily megumi is there to save you by giving him a hard nudge on the back.

"okay, okay, little guy.... can't even hit on his teachers in peace..." he sighs, earning a way stronger hit and a way darker blush on your cheeks. "it was really nice meeting you too. finally."

you give him a small nod, fingers playing with the bracelet. you watch him carry the boy toward the door, ready to go home and calm your heart.

"wait-" satoru turns just as he steps outside into the sunlight. his eyes shine now even more than they did inside, almost blinding you. "how come you're not running to the bathroom? i thought you were dying."

"well, i was trying to be polite and wait until you leave, so you know..." lowering your voice, you tell him: "fuck off already." flashing him one final smile, the one he's gonna think about for the rest of the night (for the rest of many many nights), you motion for him to move along.

a quick little bye is all he gets before you close the door after him, leaving him standing in from of the house with a stupid smitten grin on his face. if it weren't for megumi, he'd probably stay standing there. "they said fuck." the boy whispers.

"fuck yeah." he laughs before he ruffles megumi's hair, finally making their way over to his car. "by the way, you're an awful wingman, buddy..."

[cherrycolored-punk]

NHTK - Chapter One

Masterlist

summary: You’d always been warned by your older brother about the bad boys. The ones with the long hair, tattooed arms, and played in a band. Especially the one that is his best friend.

pairing: brother's best friend! Eddie Munson x fem! Reader, reader is Reefer Rick’s little sister.

trope/themes: forbidden love, friends to lovers

w/c: 5.6k

author's note: this is a repost from my previous blog @strangemagicc and I’ve been debating whether or not I should but I love their story so much. I hope you enjoy ! 🖤 a side note: yes, I did get drunk off my own jungle juice and yes, that did result in the worst sunburn of my life. I pour with a heavy hand.

warnings: angst, mention of cheating (technically not reader), mention of anxiety, brief mention of unwanted touching, underage drinking/smoking, a little sprinkle of smut (does clothed grinding count?). Let me know if I missed anything!

The Cunningham home was packed with bodies, familiar faces, and those you didn’t know. You stood near the front door fiddling with the zipper on your purse as you scanned the room searching for a familiar face.

Party lights bounced off a disco ball that hung haphazardly from a chandelier sending a kaleidoscope of blues and purples dancing across the foyer.

The loud music hummed in the walls, vibrating when the bass dropped. You bobbed your head to it mindlessly, without rhythm, feeling uncomfortable in the swarm of bodies around you. The foyer was crowded with partygoers, some locked in an embrace and others pushing their way up the stairs to the rooms that lined the hallway for some privacy.

Your teeth dug into your lower lip, eyebrows marrying in the middle as you searched above the sea of bodies. You were supposed to meet your best friend, Rachel, outside nearly an hour ago but your shift at Hawk Theater had dragged on, and now you didn’t know where to find her or your boyfriend for that matter.

That’s when you spotted them.

It felt like ice had filled your veins as you watched the way the familiar form of your boyfriend’s lips pushed against your best friend’s. Their mouths a frenzied dance, their eyes squished close. Her hands in his hair, his palms tracing down her exposed skin. You couldn’t move, disbelief keeping you anchored in place and watching the two of them as the rest of the world fell silent. Loud music muffled, and voices drowned out by the hammering of your heart against your ribcage.

A shoulder bumped yours causing your purse to fall as a partygoer rushed through the door to where their friends were gathered.

“Fuck,” You blinked rapidly and bent down to grab the black leather, eyes darting around at people’s shoes as you tried to regain your surroundings.

When you stood, you watched as Simon whispered in Rachel’s ear. She let out a small laugh in response to whatever he said before nodding. You began to push your way through the crowd, but bodies pushed back, and you watched as Simon led Rachel up the stairs through a throng of people. Her hand clasped in his, megawatt smile on display, and you wondered if this was the first time he had led her to a secluded room. Wondered how many stolen glances or hints you had missed.

You stopped pushing your way through and ignored the shouting in your head telling you to move, move, move.

What would you do?

What would you say?

Did it matter?

Shoulders pushed into yours as you stood still, wishing the earth would swallow you whole.

You held in the tears threatening to spill, allowing the hurt to settle into your stomach and create a dull ache.

People shoved past you, and you let your body be moved by the crowd as your eyes danced around the house.

For the first time, you noticed the smiling faces and chiseled jaws you’d ignored the past four years.

Squaring your shoulders, you pushed back against the bodies creating a path to the kitchen. Empty bottles and cans littered the counters. White granite stickied with beer and liquor.

You grabbed a plastic cup and waited for your turn at the keg. Jason Carver manned the pump and eyed you as you approached, handing him your empty plastic cup.

“Well, if it isn’t Rick’s little sister,” he started, a fake smile plastered wide on his face. You gave him a sarcastic grin and grabbed for your beer as he topped it off. None too keen on being called, let alone known as Reefer Rick’s little sister.

Jason pulled away, holding your beer just out of reach.

“Your brother was supposed to have someone here supplying the party favors. What gives?”

You couldn’t help the way your eyes rolled. Hawkins’ Golden Boy was always itching for his next fix.

“I’m sure one of his little lackeys is crawling around here somewhere.” You held your arms up, gesturing around you before reaching back up for your drink. He held it away from you again, and your shoulders sagged, annoyance building.

“Come on, Carver. Give the lady her drink,” Another boy grabbed the cup, handing it to you with a soft smile.

He was cute in an obvious way, skin glowing with a fading summer tan that highlighted the blue of his eyes.

“Thanks,” you responded with a small grin, your hand grazing his as you grabbed for your drink.

“Any time.” His eyes held yours, his hand still outstretched and warm beneath your touch.

A perfect distraction.

———————————

Eddie sank into the worn-down couch cushions with a heavy sigh, his legs spread wide so no one would sit too close. Not that they would dare to anyway.

He sat with a view of the foyer and kitchen, both areas crowded with people in various stages of inebriation.

Unfamiliar faces were cast in a rainbow of colors by the party lights illuminating multiple parts of the house. His eyes darted from one room to another.

Empty bottles of hard liquor were toppled against the kitchen counter. Plastic cups littered the room near the two kegs that sat in the middle of the tiled floor, sticky with spilled beer and marred by dirty footprints.

It was a familiar scene, one that played out the same way nearly every weekend since Eddie could remember.

But now his nerves were withering away, disappearing into nothingness as the minutes ticked by. Bored out of his mind.

Another generic pop song blasted through the speakers, another once jock tried to negotiate the price of Eddie’s already cheap supply.

His jaw was set, and if he didn’t need the money so fucking bad, he wouldn’t be here. At another house party for has-beens and once popular teens inching towards full-blown adulthood. No longer barely legal, a year closer to buying beer without sneaking it past an unsuspecting convenience store clerk.

He chugged his beer, streams of amber liquid pouring out on either side of his mouth as he drank harshly. Sloppily. Until the lukewarm liquid was gone and he was staring down into an empty plastic cup. Eddie threw his head against the cushions debating whether another cup of cheap beer was worth giving up his spot on the couch.

And then you caught his eye. Your back pressed to a guy he’d never seen you with.

His brow quirked up curiously as he watched you. The way the hem of your dress inched up with the movement of your hips, the way your eyes were closed as you swayed to the rhythm of the music and took a swig of whatever filled your plastic cup.

Didn’t you have a boyfriend?

He was surprised to see you here. Somewhere seemingly not your scene, surrounded by people he knew you didn’t like.

In truth, Eddie knew very little about you these days. Your interactions had been limited since the two of you worked side by side at the theater. A job he was fired from when the manager caught him making deals on the clock and company property. Since then, he only caught glimpses of you when he came by your house to see your brother. A passing hello or a quick goodbye. Never anything like those days spent conversing by the cinema dumpsters while being scorched by the summer sun.

You turned around and whispered something in the guy’s ear and pointed to your cup before weaving through the crowd.

Your back was to Eddie, hands reaching towards bottle after bottle, shaking them to check their contents. All coming up empty.

He chuckled when you spotted the giant cooler filled with Chrissy’s concoction of jungle juice; a mix of pineapple malibu, cherry moonshine, and fruit punch.

Eddie pushed himself off his spot on the couch and moved through the crowd towards you. Approaching just as you filled the cup to the brim and brought it towards your waiting lips. He pulled the red plastic from your hands and gave you a chastising grin.

“Don’t think so, little Lipton,” he took a swig and raised his eyebrows as the sweetness hit his tongue.

You gave him an annoyed glare and reached for your drink just as he pulled it out of your nearing grasp with an amused grin.

“I’m sorry, Munson, since when did you become an advocate against public displays of intoxication?” You reached up and snatched your cup back from his hand, looking at him with a questioning arch of your eyebrow.

He noticed the way your words were somewhat slurred, your cheeks a shade darker from the alcohol you’d already consumed.

“See you got a new boyfriend,” Eddie stated, jutting his chin toward your dance partner and ignoring the insinuation of your words. He folded his arms across his chest and stared at you with an amused gleam in his eye as he waited for your explanation.

“That guy?” You turned to the cute brunette who was waiting for you to return before looking back at Eddie.

“I just met him like two seconds ago,” you hiccuped and let out a small laugh as Eddie looked back to the brunette who was eyeing him wearily.

“What happened to Simon?”

“He’s probably still upstairs fucking Rachel,” you waved him off and shrugged before taking another sip of your drink.

“What?” Eddie couldn’t have heard you right. Simon had been your boyfriend since the summer you turned sixteen, having met him while working at Hawk Theater alongside Eddie.

“Look, Munson, is there a point to this line of questioning?”

Your buzzed mind was becoming less cloudy, the feelings you’d been pushing down threatening to come to the surface, and all you wanted to be was distracted.

“Your brother wouldn’t be too happy if I let you get drunk at some house party,” he sighed, changing the subject.

“Well, isn’t it a good thing that he isn’t here, and you can just pretend you didn’t see me?” You smiled over your cup before chugging some of the drink.

The sugary sweetness of the fruit punch nearly overpowered the taste of the strong liquor mixed with it but still, it burned as it went down. Eddie shook his head, his tongue jutting into his cheek to fight the wide grin that threatened to spread at your words.

“I wouldn’t chug that if I were you,” he warned, and you rolled your eyes, removing the plastic from your lips with a scowl pointed in his direction.

“Since when are you such a party pooper?” You poked at his chest with your free hand.

“Plus, I’ve already had a beer or two.” You held up one too many fingers to him as you pressed the cup to your lips and swallowed harshly.

“Come on, (Y/N), this isn’t like you,” he frowned.

“How would you know, Eddie?” You said his name like it was a curse word as you looked at him through hooded eyes.

He opened his mouth to respond when a passerby pushed against him to get through the crowd causing his frame to lurch into yours. A small splash of your drink soaked through your sweater, and you pushed back against his torso instinctively, his chest hard against the palm of your hand.

“Shit, sorry,” his warm breath fanned your face. A hint of spearmint mixed with the scent of cigarettes caught your nose as you inhaled sharply, caught off guard by the sudden contact of his hand against your hip, steadying himself from the crowd's sway.

You gazed up at him, your hand still on his chest, into his wide brown eyes. His cheeks were colored pink as his hand darted away from you.

“Sorry,” he whispered again, and you gave him a sardonic smile, enjoying the way he squirmed by being this close to you. Too close.

“Maybe we should get you home to change,” he pointed to your stained sweater, and you shrugged as you placed your drink on the counter.

“Trying to get me alone, Munson?” You teased, and maybe it was the alcohol, or perhaps it was the way you wished his nervous energy was because you affected him the same way he had always affected you.

You pulled at the hem of the green pullover revealing the tight black lace dress you wore underneath. Eddie’s gaze dropped instinctively, eyeing how the material hugged your curves. You grabbed his wrist and dropped the sweater into his open palm.

“Hold onto that for me,” you picked your cup back up from the counter.

“And don’t worry, Rick doesn’t have to know,” you gave him a small wink before turning away from him and pushing back through the crowd.

Eddie stared at you, his mouth agape as you disappeared back into the sea of people and picked up where you left off with your dance partner. Your arms wrapped around his shoulders, fingers curling into the hair at the nape of his neck—the guy whose name you didn’t even know.

Eddie glanced back down at your sweater in his outstretched hand and shook his head unsure of exactly what had gotten into you.

He grabbed another cup of beer and leaned against a wooden beam near the living room, his eyes always finding you when he looked around the room. Eddie made a few deals and sold most of his supply, a few hundred dollars closer to his goal of finally leaving Hawkins behind.

Eddie looked up and watched as stranger boy’s hands drifted down your hips and dug into your thighs. You pushed his hands back up to your waist, your head swaying to the music as the two of you continued to dance.

But stranger boy’s hands crept down your hip once again, inching lower and lower until they glided past the hem of your dress. You stilled and turned around, wrapping your arms around his neck. His chest flush with yours, blue eyes dull into you as he wrapped his arms around your waist. A flirty smile on his lips.

“Able to keep your hands to yourself, pretty boy?” Although you wanted a distraction, you still had reservations. Boundaries you didn’t want to cross. Not when your still boyfriend was upstairs.

“What’s the fun in that,” He whispered into your ear, palms sliding down and cupping your ass. Your smile fell, and you pushed at his chest, putting space between you.

“Knock it off,” your voice came out louder, barely heard above the music. Eddie tensed and pushed off the wooden beam he’d been leaning on. Your date looked uneasily around the crowd and back at you.

“Don’t be such a tease. You’ve been grinding on my dick for most of the night.” You scoffed at him and shook your head.

Eddie began to walk in your direction, pushing past the crowd that had turned its attention towards you.

“I was dancing,” you corrected just as Eddie approached. His lean frame towered next to you, eyes set on the guy whose name you now didn’t care to know.

“We got a problem here?” Eddie questioned.

“Should’ve expected your brother’s dealer to be your little lap dog,” the brunette laughed, cocky. Annoyance thrummed through your veins, and you began to step toward him but Eddie grabbed your arm, his warm palm pressed against your exposed skin.

“He’s not even worth it,” Eddie whispered and pulled you back, “let’s go.” You nodded at his words and turned to leave with him, emotional exhaustion now weighing heavy on your shoulders.

Eddie followed behind you, ignoring the way the sea of heads watched him like he was some carnival freak on display.

“Stupid slut,” the brunette muttered as he turned towards his friends, and Eddie stopped in his tracks, a dark grin coloring his features.

“On second thought.” He turned and took a wide step, swinging without hesitation. 

His clenched fist connected with the guy’s jaw sending him stumbling back and falling to the ground. Eddie stood over him, chest rising and falling rapidly. Ready for a fight. The guy groaned on the ground, holding his jaw where Eddie’s fist had already left a mark. You stood stunned into silence, the whispers of the crowd breaking you from your reverie.

“Eddie, we should go,” you grabbed onto his hand and pulled as the crowd’s murmurs began to grow louder. A bigger fight could cause the police to be called and Eddie didn’t need a bigger record.

He didn’t budge, gaze still fixed on the guy writhing in pain on the floor.

“Let’s go,” you urged and pulled on his hand hard, this time he followed. You led him through the crowd and out the front door, ignoring the dozens of eyes that watched you leave.

His palm was still pressed to yours when you reached the sidewalk, the night breeze cold against your exposed skin sobering you. You stopped and dropped Eddie’s hand as you looked up to him.

“What the fuck was that?” You pointed towards the house now in the distance with an outstretched hand before crossing your arms over your chest. The moon illuminated Eddie in a hazy white glow, the street lamps dim on the other side of the street.

“Me protecting you?” He questioned, his eyebrows creasing as he took in your sour expression.

“You didn’t need to do that!” Your voice rose.

“That guy had his greasy hands all over you and called you a slut, but you’re mad at me?” His tone was filled with incredulity, eyes wide and shocked.

“No, I just-,” you sighed and pressed your fingers against the bridge of your nose, closing your eyes as you tried to put into words how you felt.

Hurt?

Confused?

Angry?

Like a fucking idiot for dancing with some loser at a house party you didn’t even want to be at in the first place.

“Thank you,” you sighed and looked up at him. It was better than an explanation of your misplaced anger.

“I mean it,” you grabbed onto his hand so he knew that you meant it. He looked to your connected hands and back at you.

“Any time, Spielberg,” he gave you a cocky smile and you dropped his hand, watching as he walked past you to his van.

“We agreed you’d never call me that again,” you said through gritted teeth, following behind him. Eddie turned and began to walk backward, keyring twirling on his finger.

“No, you asked me to stop. I never agreed to it.” He stopped in front of his black van and opened the passenger door.

“Your chariot awaits,” he stepped aside so you could climb in, presenting the passenger seat as though it were a grand prize.

“I can walk, Eds,” you chuckled and began to walk past him. You figured the night air would do you good. Eddie yanked you by your shoulder reeling you back towards him.

“Get in the fucking car,” he pushed you towards the seat and waited until you were situated before closing the door. He ran around the front of the vehicle and quickly climbed into the driver’s seat.

As Eddie started the car you noticed his bloody knuckles. Guilt reared its ugly head and you grimaced at the sight of his already bruising flesh. As he waited for the car to warm up, you rummaged through your bag looking for the travel-sized first aid kit you kept buried at the bottom, and quietly rejoiced when you found it.

Without asking you reached for his hand and settled it into your lap. When he tried pulling away you squeezed his wrist to hold him into place.

“What are you doing?” He questioned, glancing between you and his split knuckles.

“What does it look like?” You gave him a teasing look and grabbed an alcohol wipe, tearing open the package before blotting the pad gently against his skin.

Eddie winced and you looked at him with a silent apology before blowing on his knuckles to help them dry.

His gaze traced the curve of your nose down to the plush of your lips, swallowing hard as his eyes lingered. A little hypnotized, just as you’d always had him. You placed a bandaid on each cut and patted his hand softly breaking Eddie from his trance.

“All better,” you stated and glanced up at him with a satisfied grin.

He pulled his hand away and cleared his throat, refocusing his attention on the road ahead as he pulled away from the curb. Eddie eyed his bandaged hand resting on the steering wheel as he drove.

Of course, you’d have Hello Kitty bandaids.

He shook his head but couldn’t fight the way his grin grew wide and took over his features.

The two of you drove towards your house in silence, Soundgarden playing low on the radio.

Houses passed in a dark blur, the clouds covering any light the moon had offered. It had been years since the two of you had been alone for more than a passing moment. Not since those days spent at work where Eddie got to know you as more than his best friend’s little sister.

You fiddled with the hem of your dress, conflicted by to say or if you should say anything. It didn’t go unnoticed by Eddie who began to glance between you and the road, measuring his words just as cautiously.

“Sorry about your-“

“Do you think-“

The both of you began speaking at once and you chuckled awkwardly as you looked towards him. He nodded at you to go ahead, giving you the floor to speak.

“Do you think we could go somewhere? It could be anywhere, I just really don’t want to go home right now,” you shrugged, continuing to play with the material of your dress.

The two of you were already close to your home, the trees becoming more dense as you approached but he nodded. He turned his van down a different path, the trees opening as you approached the Lake.

The light of the moon and stars glittered off the calm waters, peaceful. Serene. A different scene from the events of the night. He parked near the edge of the trees and killed the lights, taking off his seatbelt before looking at you. Nervous energy hummed in his chest and was evident in the way he bounced his leg absently.

“This good?”

You gave him a weak smile and nodded. The guilt had spread and made a home of your chest. Eddie got hurt because of you. Lost out on sales defending you.

“You didn’t have to do that, you know,” you began, your eyes focused on the darkness of the lake.

Eddie watched you, the way your teeth chewed at your bottom lip. Your anxious energy palpable.

“I’m sorry you had to get mixed up in my mess,” you looked at him now and Eddie shook his head.

“Like I was going to let Chris Grandy call you a stupid slut,” he rolled his eyes.

You giggled to yourself. So that was the douchebag’s name.

“It really doesn’t matter,” you shrugged. “Probably was acting like one.”

You’d only ever had one serious boyfriend in your life and he’d spent the night upstairs with your childhood best friend. There was a lot you didn’t know about dating or the rules of flirting. What gave guys the wrong idea or made them think you wanted something more and you kept playing it over in your head wondering what you could’ve done differently.

Eddie’s leg stopped bouncing as he watched you and the anger built up in his chest. He wasn’t mad at you, he was so fucking pissed off that the slime ball made you feel like this. Made you feel guilty for enjoying yourself or question whether you did anything wrong.

“You were having fun,” he started, “and regardless of how you danced or what you said, when you told him to stop he should’ve stopped. Nothing you did or said justifies him being a fucking creep.”

He was seething, you could tell from the way his chest rose and fell. From the way his jaw was clenched, the moonlight illuminating his features.

Munson had always been handsome, cute in a not-so-conventional way. It was the way his curly hair framed his high cheekbones and the plush of his lips. The way his big brown eyes were always animated when he talked about something he liked.

The first time you noticed it, noticed him, was when you were thirteen. You spent that summer blubbering in his presence, finding any excuse to talk to him or go into your brother’s room. The crush never really went away, always lingered in the back of your mind and now in the way your heart thrummed as his gaze was fixed on you. A silent plea begging you to understand what he told you.

It was like a magnetic pull the way you leaned closer to him, eyes trained on his as you inched closer.

“You don’t think there’s anything wrong with me having fun?” You questioned with innocent eyes and looked up at him through your lashes, your face closer to his.

“Why would there be?” He swallowed, his gaze flicking from yours to the pout of your lips.

Eddie was losing the little bit of composure he’d been able to maintain all these years. The warnings your brother had given sounded off like alarms in his head.

“Also, I’m the one who needs to apologize,” he grimaced and began to play with the rings on his fingers, changing the subject. Trying to distract himself from the way the scent of your perfume had him a little disjointed.

“For what?” You pursed your lips, perplexed.

“I’m, uh, pretty sure I left your sweater back there at the party. Nearly one hundred percent positive,” he looked at you with a sideways grimace, already shrinking away as he anticipated your reaction but you only laughed.

“I ruined it with Chrissy’s weird concoction anyway,” you dropped your face into your hand, your body shaking with laughter.

“I still can’t believe you drank that shit,” he laughed with you, “it had me on my ass a few years ago at her Fourth of July party.”

“No way,” your laugh grew louder as you absently held onto his arm, encouraging him to divulge.

“In my defense, those sugary drinks are the ones that get you,” his body shook with his building laughter.

“Could barely taste the moonshine she puts in it so I had a few cups,” he shook his head, “I fell asleep in one of those loungers by the pool and the next thing I remembered was waking up in some random room laughing to myself with the worst sunburn of my life.”

You winced at the picture he painted, imagining his pale skin marred by the sun.

“So that’s why you took my cup,” realization dawned upon you.

“Just trying to save you, little Lipton,” he agreed and you groaned.

“I wish people would stop calling me that. I’m not just Rick’s sister you know?” Your shoulders sagged. It had always been like that.

People, boys, avoiding you because of who your brother was. Ghosting you once they found out your last name, his reputation preceding you. 

Until Simon.

“I know you’re not,” he assured you earnestly.

“You’re definitely just saying that,” you rolled your eyes.

“Since when have I told you something just because it’s what you want to hear, Spielberg?” He emphasized the nickname you hated to prove his point.

You leaned over the middle console and jabbed at his ribs with your finger causing him to jump and grab at your hand.

“This is the thanks I get for saving your life,” he dramatized and grabbed your other hand as he dodged its attack.

He held onto your hands, your laughter mixing with his, and stared up into his eyes.

You could say it was the alcohol still clouding your mind for what you did next, could say it was because you still needed the distraction you sought at the beginning of the night.

Eddie smelled like apple and bergamot, a hint of weed and tobacco. He swallowed hard as you leaned closer. He felt the warmth of your breath against his face and watched as your eyes fluttered close.

He hesitated for a moment before closing the rest of the space. Heart beating faster than it had that night.

Your breath hitched with the first contact of his lips. They were smooth, almost pillowy against your own, as they matched the pace you set. He released your hands and you twined them in his curls, soft like you’d always imagined.

Eddie’s hands fell into his lap and clenched into fists as the kiss deepened, your tongue parting the seam of his mouth. He opened and slowly met yours with the tip of his own.

You tasted like cherry chapstick and fruit punch, sweet like he always thought you would be and it was getting so hard not to touch you.

Warmth blossomed in your chest, spreading to your veins in a low hum and you pulled him closer, wrapping your arms around his neck to pull him flush against you. His hands left his lap and wrapped around your waist, fingers digging into your flesh.

He pulled you across the middle console into his lap and you moved without hesitation, your mouth still pressed to his.

There was an unspoken need shared in the way your mouths meshed, in the way he swallowed your sighs and you elicited his groans. It felt like you were floating, head buzzing from a different kind of inebriation.

You wanted more, you needed more but the bright lights of a passing car broke you two apart.

Eddie stilled beneath you and pulled away from your still-pursed lips.

“Shit,” he whispered and closed his eyes as he hit his head against the headrest.

You bit into your lower lip and played with the material of his black t-shirt, looking at him curiously. Confusion evident on your brow.

“What’s wrong?” He shook his head, eyes still closed as his fingers traced absent lines back and forth over your naked thighs.

“We shouldn’t be doing this,” he shook his head and you stilled.

“We shouldn’t be or you don’t want to be?” You felt as though he was making an excuse, trying to let you down easily instead of telling you that he regretted kissing you.

“Shouldn’t be,” he lifted his head and finally opened his eyes.

He brought his hand to your face and held you, tracing an absent thumb over your cheekbone.

“Who says we shouldn’t be?” You leaned into his touch and rubbed your hands over his chest, enjoying the way his heart thrummed against your palms.

Eddie had trouble concentrating, distracted with you pressed against the evidence of his budding arousal.

Even in the silence you both knew the answer to his question, the boundary that had always been there. Invisible but palpable.

You’d always been warned by your older brother about the bad boys. The ones with the long hair, tattooed arms, and played in a band. Especially the one that is his best friend.

“You know who,” he finally responded, hands gripping your thighs as you shifted in his lap and you smirked. Enjoying the way Eddie Munson looked a little dazed beneath you.

“Nobody has to know if you don’t want them to,” you muttered as you leaned closer, your breath fanning his face. Lips enticing him and he swallowed hard. Resolve wavering under the intensity of his want.

He closed the little space that remained between the two of you, lips not as gentle as before when they pressed against yours. His kisses were hungry. Needier than before.

It felt like he was kissing you like he’d always wanted to, but you didn’t dare hope for that type of reciprocation. Satisfied to have him bucking into your clothed pussy, moans escaping his lips as he held you against him and ground your hips over his boner.

You moaned as he peppered kisses down your jaw and across your neck, nibbling against the sensitive flesh of your throat.

Leaving his marks where everyone could see.

Where Simon could see.

You stilled for a moment but a moment was all Eddie needed to stop, to regain clarity. To push you off his lap with a heavy sigh, a quick rise and fall of his chest. You sank into the passenger and stared at him, your breaths matching his.

“We need to stop,” he shook his head and took a deep breath, running his sweaty palms over his pants. You only nodded, your voice lost as your thoughts collided with each other. Confusion etched into your forehead.

Eddie adjusted his jeans and looked over his shoulder before reversing his car. He needed to get you home before his resolve completely dissipated. Before you did something with him that you might regret like the others.

You fell into silence, eyes trained on the passing trees that were barely visible under the pale moonlight. Embarrassment clung to you, sticky and suffocating. Rejection mingling with the hurt that was beginning to resurface.

The short drive to your house was quiet and you didn’t turn to say thank you as you hopped out of his van.

You clamored through your door, the quiet of your empty house greeting you.

Eddie watched as you slipped into the darkness of your home, and a wave of guilt settled over him as he remembered your brother’s words. As the image of your confused face resurfaced behind his closed eyes. He thumped his head against the steering wheel and groaned loudly.

“Fuck!”

[cozage]

Hi! Do you write angst stuff? If so, can you please write about something like s/o is from a normal, well educated, middle class family but her parents don't approve of their love because well you know, he is a pirate. Ace, Law, Shanks x f!reader please

A/N: This is only very loosely edited. I’m sure theres plent of typos and grammatical errors. Forgive me!  Characters: f! reader x Ace, Law, Shanks Cw: This is angst only…should I make a part two with resolution? Also there are some harsh words exchanged in some of these. Just be mindful of that :) Total word count: 3k

Disapproval

Ace

You spotted Whitebeard’s jolly roger in the distance and braced yourself for the next few days. Ace was surely on that ship. He never missed a visit to your island. You knew it would only be a matter of time before you’d have to see him again, but you hadn’t expected him to return so soon. 

You watched the ship pull into port from the cliffside, trying to decide what to do. Ace was expecting you to be down by the docks when he arrived, as you always were. But you knew it would only make everything harder, and you haad been warned to stay away from the pirates due to their…bad image. 

You fiddled with the engagement ring on your finger as you thought. Ace deserved to hear the news from you. It was cruel, but hearing it from a local would be worse. With a stone weighing in your stomach, you rose from your place and started down the path to the port. 

You loved Ace. With all of your heart, you loved him. But your parents were extremely affluent individuals in the community, and Ace was a pirate. He had plenty of other women on other islands to comfort him-women you tried not to think about too hard. But you couldn’t spend your life waiting for the next time he came too you. He had his life on the sea, and your had your life on this island. 

So when William Cleed had asked for your hand in marriage, you agreed. It was an arrangement between your parents, and William was a rather boring fellow. But he came from a good family, and he was kind to his servants. He was a good man. Plus, the marriage would solidify your parents position in the community and strengthen family ties. It was the sensible move. 

“There she is!” Ace’s voice rang out amongst the sounds of the portmen, and you found him at the bow of the ship, waving down at you. 

You gave him a sheepish grin and small wave, the way you always had as the two of you waited for the gangway to be set. His grin made your heart swell, which paired with an instant pang of regret. 

Unwilling to wait any longer, Ace jumped over the side of the ship, landing on the dock directly in front of you. 

“Miss you, love.” His eyes gave a quick scan over your body, lingering a moment too long of your lips. “You look good.”

You rolled your eyes, a smile dancing along your lips. “I bet you say that to all of your island girls.”

Ace wrinkled his nose at your comment. “Only you. I tell you every time, there’s no one else.”

“And yet you always leave.” You raised an eyebrow at him. This was a daance the two of you always did.

He wrapped his arms around you, pulling you close to him. “Come with me.”

“Ace-” you tried to wiggle out of his grasp, but he only strengthened his grip on you, a smile still on his face.

“I know, I know,” he said with a sigh. “You can’t go and I can’t stay. So we just have to keep dancing this dance we always do.”

You tried to pull away again, but he didn’t budge. “Ace, I need to talk to you.”

“I missed you.” Hiis lips were already on yours as he spoke the words. 

You should’ve felt guilty. You should’ve tried to pull away, or push against him. You should’ve tried to get away and preserve yourself and your fiance. 

Instead, you melted into him. You couldn’t help it. You ignored the reasonable part of your brain that was reminding you about your bethrothed. You would tell him about your engagement the moment you pulled away, you just needed to taste him one more time. To have your sense invaded by campfire, to have your mouth slightly numb and your hair a tangled mess from his fingers twining through them. Just this last kiss, and then you could say goodbye. 

“What the hell is this?” William’s voice broke through the smoke that was fogging your brain, causing you to yank out of Ace’s grasp. 

“William-” you gasped, trying to think of a reason he would’ve found you like this. 

But William wasn’t looking at you. He stepped infront you you, glaring directly at Ace. “You pirates thing anything you look at is yours. Get the fuck away from her!”

The sharpness in William’s voice was something you had never heard before, and it caused you to take a step back from both of the men. 

Ace blinked, confused and slightly disoriented from your kiss. His eyes found yours, asking for an explanation, but you simply adverted your gaze. You should have told him, but now your voice was gone. 

Ace gave out a nervous laugh. “I don’t understand. She was fine-”

“The hell she was!” William shouted. “My fiance doesn’t go around kissing other men, especially not a pirate.”

The way he spit the last word made your cheeks heat with shame. You had never been ashamed to be seen with Ace or any of his crew before, but the Cleeds wouldn’t be caught dead frequenting the same establishment as a pirate. 

“Fiance?” Ace barked out a laugh, but was quickly silenced. You knew he was looking at you, at the ring on your finger. “I-”

“William, dear,” you interrupted quickly. “Can we just go?”

WIlliam finally turned around to you, his eyes instantly softening as he looked at you. He smoothed some of your wild hair and wiped some dirt off of your face. “Did he hurt you?” he whispered. 

You shook your head. “No. I’m okay. I swear.”

Ace was staring at you, trying to get your attention. “Y/N-”

“Don’t say her name,” William growled, turning back to Ace. “Don’t even fucking speak to her.”

“I can talk to her if I damn well please! She’s her own person!” Ace took a step toward you, but William stepped up to meet him, cutting you off from him. 

“And my betrothed,” WIlliam hissed. “And my family will not associate themselves with your kind.”

You could see Ace’s temperature rise at that comment. You knew the look on his face. One that often happened when people in the bar spoke poorly of Whitebeard or laughed at someone in his crew. He was getting ready to loose his flames.

“Please-” your voice cracked on that word, finally looking at Ace and all of the confused pain on his face. “Please just let it go.”

William turned to you and relaxed, walking back to you. “Yes, of course. Let’s go.”

He smoothed your hair again, gently kissed your cheek, and led you away from the docks. You didn’t dare to look back to Ace, but you knew he was still standing in the same place you had left him, silently begging you to turn and run back into his arms. 

Law

Trafalger Law had visited your island a few times and managed to stop in at your family’s cafe every single time. And every time, your conversations went about the same. 

“Welcome back! What brings you back to the island?”

“Business for the World Government,” he’d say with a straight face, staring at the menu. 

You’d give a nervous laugh. “Right. Classified, I’m guessing.”

He’d finally give you a smirk. “You’d be correct.”

“Anything I can help with or give you insider information on?”

“Just a sandwich.”

It was at that point that you’d remember he stopped in for service, not conversation. You’d quickly ring him up and make his order. He always sat at the bar near you. At first, he didn’t seem interested in making small talk with you, but after the third or fourth visit, the two of you could talk through the entire meal without any awkward pauses or lulls in conversation. 

And without fail, everytime he left, your mother would stick her head out from the back room and click her tongue in disapproval. 

“You shouldn’t be so kind to men like that. He’s a pirate, you know. He’ll take you hostage and not think twice about it if it benefits him.”

“He’s a Warlord, you know. Sanctioned by the World Government,” you’d always say back. 

She’d scrunch her face at that comment. “Just means he can get away with it.”

The two of you would roll your eyes at the other’s remarks and get back to work, but those golden eyes would stay in your mind for the rest of the day. 

One day, Trafalgar Law came into your shop twice in the same day. 

You couldn’t help but smile at him. “Back for the World Government Business? Or just a sandwich for the sea?”

“Neither,” Law said. “It’s actually a personal matter.”

Your heart began to race at his words. “Oh? And how can I help with that?”

Law looked back at the door as if he wanted to run, but his crewmates were blocking the exit, staring at him expectantly. 

He turned back to you, watching you carefully. “Are you busy tonight?”

It took a moment for you to process his words. “Tonight? Uhm…no, I don’t think so.”

“I’ll meet you here at seven, then.”

It felt like all the air had gotten sucked out of your lungs. “What?”

“For dinner.” He started to walk away, and then froze. “I mean, if you want to.”

You gave a nervous laugh. “Do you even want to?”

He quickly turned to face you, and you could see the calculated panic across his face as he realized his communication errors. 

A smile spread across your face as you watched him try to fix his mistake. “I’ll see you here at seven. Don’t dress up too fancy, okay?”

He gave a quick nod and then slunk out of the building. You couldn’t help but laugh at his awkwardness. You hadn’t seen that level of communication issues from him since his first lunch. 

Thankfully, you didn’t have to hear anything from your mother. Her and your father were away for the day, working an event on the other side of the island. 

You closed the shop quickly and ran home to change into anything but your work outfit. Law had seen you in that enough times. 

Law was already waiting for you as you approached the bakery again, and gave a smirk when he saw you. “I was starting to worry you wouldn’t show up.”

You flashed him a smile in return. “And miss a evening out with a pirate? How could I refuse!”

He rolled his eyes at your enthusiasm. “Don’t get your hopes up. It’s nothing big. It’s just-”

“Y/N?” Your father’s voice made you freeze in place. Even Law stopped speaking mid-sentence. 

You quickly spun around to see your mother and father standing in the path. “You guys are back early!”

Law turned around as well, slower and more disinterested in the conversation. But you saw the moment your mother recognized his face. How her eyes bulged out her her face for just a moment. How she whispered to your father. 

Your father’s eyes widened aat your mother’s indistinguishable words. “You’re coming home right now,” he said to you. 

Plastering on the fakest smile you could, you willed yourself to speak confidently. “I’m actually just on my way out. Everything is okay at home, though.”

“Listen here, girl-” Your father strode up to you in five quick steps and grabbed you by the arm. “If you don’t come home this instant, you will have no home to come home to.”

“Father-”

He tugged on your arm. “Now.”

“Go,” Law said, already turning around and heading down the path without you. “I’ll see you tomorrow for lunch.”

“You will not!” Your father screamed after him. “You and your crew aren’t welcome in my shop! All you bring is trouble!” 

Law didn’t respond as he kept walking, so your father turned his rage to you. “If you ever see him again- If you ever try to go out with him again- You will be no daughter of mine. Is that understood?”

You glanced down the path one last time to see Law vanish out of sight. “Understood,” you whispered. 

Shanks

“Run away with me,” Shanks whispered between kisses. “You’re too busy here.”

“I have to stay.” You managed to get the words out before his lips came crashing back onto yours. 

“You don’t have to,” he argued. His goodbyes were always like this. 

You pulled away from him. “Just like you don’t have to go.”

“I’ll be back.” He gave you one last kiss, and then he was gone. 

--

Your mother clicked her tongue in disapproval as you stumbled back in, still drunk from the wine and Shanks’s lips. 

“That man is a walking bad idea,” she warned. “I told you to stay away from sailors. They’re bad news.”

“Shanks is a pirate,” you mumbled without thinking. “That’s a totally different profession.”

“What?” Her sharp eyes cut over to you, fire burning from your words. 

You were in for it now. You let out a groan and stumbled up the stairs, but your mother was quick on your heels. 

“Me and your father have set you up a good life. You have a good job for now, your on track to be the first graduating student with high-”

“I know!” you shouted. “My life is perfect!”

“It is!” She shot back. “And we have worked tirelessly to ensure that. So I’ll be damned if you ruin our hard work because of-”

“He offered to have me join his crew, you know.” The mischief in your eyes cut her off mis word, her mouth still hanging open in shock. “Maybe I’ll take him up on it next time!”

With that bombshell, you slammed your bedroom door shut. 

“He’s a filthy pirate!” Your mother screamed through the wooden door. “He’ll use you until he grows tired, and then he will dump you off just like every other girl!”

“Better being stuck on this damn island!” you shouted back, but your mother had already stormed back down the hallway. 

You shouldn’t have threatened your parents. You shouldn’t have mentioned leaving. You shouldn’t have even told them about Shanks in the first place. Because your parents held onto things; let them fester. Their rage never left them, it just sat dormant until they needed to call upon it. 

That rage didn’t manifest again until you saw the red-hair pirated sailing into port. Coincidentally, it was the same day that your professor had assigned a huge research project. Upon arriving home, you found that you were to prepare the meals for the family for the next week since the chef had taken a vacation, and that your parents has volunteered you to work the summer camp that helped the underprivileged island children. 

“I know what you’re doing,” you whispered to your mother while chopping vegetables one night. “It won’t work.”

“I haven’t the slightest idea what you’re talking about dear.” She gave you a false smile and returned to her book. “I could use some more tea.”

You had plans to sneak out after dark, but your parents stayed in the foyer until the early hours of the night. Between school, volunteering, making dinner, and working on your project, you never could stay awake longer than them. 

You knew what they were doing. Severing your relationship with Shanks and his crew was the best way to keep your family’s reputation pristine. But you had to see him once before he left. Just once. 

You stayed up all night to finish your project, and finished all of your dinner preparations before you went off to your volunteer duties. Dinner was finished and ready the moment your parents got home. 

You served your parents, ignoring your mother’s glare that you hadn’t set the table for yourself. 

You took a deep breath. “I’m going out this evening with some-”

“No,” your father said. “Sit and eat with us. We are a family.”

“I’m going to eat with some friends.”

Your mother raised an eyebrow at you. “Which friends?”

You began walking towards the door. “Enjoy your meal.”

“Y/N” Your father’s voice was like a blade across your skin. “Sit and eat. You have things to do afterwards here at home.”

“I’ll do it when I get back.”

“Sit. Down.” There was the rage you remembered so well. The piece of him that required you to be perfect. Obedient. 

You sat down at the table. 

You resisted the urge to shy away from his glare as he spoke. “You will not go out tonight.”

“It’s just for a few hours. I need-”

“You need nothing,” he snapped back, immediately silencing you. “I will lock you in the cellar before I allow you to galavant around the town while pirates are in town.”

“Besides, we saw that red-haired young man in the market earlier,” you mother cooed. “Seems he found another doe-eyed girl who was stupid enough to say yes to his offer. Im so glad you moved on from that fantasy and are focusing on what’s actually important now.”

Your heart stopped in your chest. “You’re lying.”

She gave you a wicked smile. “I’d sayyou could go see for yourself, but it seems you shall remain on the property. For your own safety, of course. And since we will not allow such filth in the house, wee’re at an impasse.”

“You’re lying,” you said again. You could feel your body shaking, your eyes welling with tears. But you couldn’t stop yourself. 

What pity your mother looked at you with. “I’ve told you dear. We don’t socialize with animals for a reason.” 

Your father gave a thoughtful nod, as if your mother has actually said something profound. “Well, not that we’ve got that covered, why don’t you tell us about the research project you have for Professor Kiamari.”

“I think-” you stood from the table, almostknocking over the chair. “I think I’m going to go work on that right now.”

“I think that’s a swell idea,” your father agreed. “Anything less than perfect-”

“Is a failure,” you finished. 

“And we didn’t raise a failure,” your mother said. 

With a weight crushing on your heart, you receded to your room wondering if Shanks had even realized you weren’t around anymore.

Part 2 by request :)

[astroboots]

Omg please continue with the Miguel fang prompt!!! It’s too cruel to stop there!!!!!

HIDE AND SEEK

Summary: Miguel and you plays hide and seek.

Pairing: Miguel O'Hara x reader

Word Count: 1.6k

Content: Hunter predator kink (I think that's what we're calling it?) anyway explicit. Miguel is a bit rough.

Astroboot’s Masterlist | Spiderverse Masterlist

It's all too easy to get lost in the crowd in a city as crowded as New York. You slip in among a throng of tourist standing around like a flock of pecking hens, their faces dipped down at their phones, huddled over google maps as they try to figure out how to get to Broadway as if it's not within goddamn walking distance, right down the street.

In a nervous habit, you fiddle with the watch on your wrist. Your eyes flick over the bright light that tells you it's 11:28pm.

Which means, there's still 32 minutes left.

God this is the slowest hour you've ever lived through in your life.

You squeeze yourself in the back, behind a woman with a large hat and larger sunglasses, even though it's evening and the sky is near black. The only things left illuminating the sky now is glaring shop signs, aggressive LED lights, and the mega-spectacular ads display that is brighter than the goddamn sun.

Peering over the madness of the crowd, you try to spot the familiar sight of his all too recognizable build looming over everyone else.

But there's nothing.

He's not here. You let out a long held in breath, your chest sagging with relief. Of course he wouldn't be here.

Times Square has over 300,000 visitors passing through every day. 300,000 sweaty, exhausted individuals drenched in perfume and deodorant that would make it impossible to pick up your scent. Thousands of people speaking all at once, over the angry noise of honking traffic that would make it impossible, even for him, to pick up the sound of your distinct footfall.

No, He won't be able to catch you here. That's why you came here after all.

You glance down at your watch again. 11:31.

Shit! How has only three minutes gone by?

Shaking your head, you look up at the sea of people.

You'd better get moving. Even in a crowd, if you stay still for too long, it won't be safe.

Walking briskly down the wide street, it's a struggle to squeeze through the ever moving crowd as the glaring lights change from makeup ads to theater marquees. You're peering over your shoulder with every three steps you take, constantly expecting the familiar sight of his messy curls to peek out a foot above the crowd.

He's so damn tall there's no fucking way you'll miss him if he's found you. You'll get plenty of advance warning, you reassure yourself as you continue to move forward.

Your eyes settle over your watch again.

11:46. Fuck you sideways.

You know you shouldn't keep checking it every two seconds like this, because all it serves to do, is to ratchet up your blood pressure so high you're going to need to start taking medication for it.

How is time moving so slow. You shake your head in exasperation, and for a fraction of a second you swear you see it.

A flash of unmissable dark navy glowing with red.

You freeze. Your back feels like ice, cold damp sweat breaking out along your spine. You snap your eyes back but there's nothing there now. Nothing but an anonymous crowd.

What the-- How could he have just disappeared into thin air?

He's 6 feet and fucking 9 inches. Taller than your refrigerator back in your tiny studio apartment. The top of his head beats out your fucking Christmas tree. If he was here, he'd be impossible to miss. You don't fucking miss a giraffe when you visit the Brooklyn Zoo, so why are you having such a fucking hard time spotting him? How the fuck does he move so inconspicuously?

Was it just your imagination?

You glance at your watch: 11:46. Gotta be kidding. Is time standing still now? Has it just decided to stop moving altogether?

You force yourself to step forward and ignore how your knees seems to cave at your own weight as you sink into the pavement with every step.

In the corner of your eyes you spot him. Clearly this time. Real. Not a figment of your imagination. He's only a few steps away from you. The familiar pair of glowing scarlet eyes fixed on you.

Oh fuck, shit. Shit! Your heart races at the sight, beating so hard you think you feel it in your lungs. You're already sprinting in the opposite direction without thought and the only thing guiding you is the pure impulse to escape.

You push through the crowd, sprinting forward without taking in your surroundings. All you care about is to get away as your gaze is fixed on your watch.

11:52. Eight more minutes. You just need to stay away for eight more minutes.

You keep running as the crowd seems to thin, and the colorful lights and noise of traffic fades away. Then you finally stop, catching your breath to look up at your surroundings.

It's empty and void of people. A large empty van is blocking the narrow alley from view of the main street, and there's an unlocked gate that you've come through.

On the other side from where you've come from there's a tall bricked up wall as far as the eye can see-- a dead end.

How the fuck did you manage to find the only deserted dead end alleyway in central New York?

Shit you need to get out of here, you won't be able to run away if you're trapped here.

You glance one more time at your watch.

11:57. Three minutes. 180 seconds. It's all you need and then you'll win.

You turn your heel back towards the gate. But it's too late.

The dim light of the alley is eaten up by a large and imposing shadow.

He's already here.

The familiar navy blue and the menacing red sprawled across his chest fills your vision, blocking your only path to escape. All you see is red eyes glowing so bright it lights up the dark alley with it.

"Time's up," he says, mouth curled into a mocking smile so wide that you can see his fangs peek out from his upper lip.

That's when you realize you are well and fully trapped like the helpless prey you are in his spider's web. You're right where he wants you.

God you're so damn stupid. You were safe in the crowd. But one sight of him had you spooked and running into the only alley to be found in all of New York.

Shit.

He'd planned this all along. The bastard's must've been the one who opened the gate. And you had ran in here like some scared witless rabbit straight into his trap.

You could try to escape him. Some vain, silly leftover pride in you, is adamant that you still have at least two whole minutes to get away.

He steps closer, and you can't help but instinctively step back as he does.

You know it's a game. Know that he would never hurt you, but that hungry and predatory red glow in his eyes has fear spiking along your spine all the same.

"Miguel, wai--"

The rest of your futile plea dies in your throat. His broad palm covers your mouth and jaw, and even your startled squeak is muffled into silence as he presses you up against the wall.

You whimper into his hand, but he doesn't relent. Doesn't ease up, even as he leans down and hushes you. Despite the soothing tone he uses with you, it isn't comforting at all. It drips with condescension as he press his lips to your bare throat.

"I'm gonna take my prize now, nena," he murmurs into your skin and because your brain is broken, with no sense for survival instincts, every part of you tingles at the amused threat in his voice.

"You promised remembered?" he reminds you.

And of course you do. It's hard not to, when the bastard's got you pinned against a brick wall in an abandoned alley like something out of a horror movie.

Fuck. He's taken this way too seriously. You don't know why you had suggested the world's dumbest hide and seek with this competitive and unreasonable man.

He presses you into the hard brick behind you, like there's anywhere left for you to go. And you can feel it. The proof of his excitement pressing up against your stomach, pinning you against the wall. He's hard.

Any residual resentment at your loss gives way for excitement when you feel his cock twitch and jerk against you.

The edge of his teeth rests on your bare shoulder as goosebumps breaks across your skin, and you feel dizzy. Anticipation swirls in your stomach with an intoxicating warmth.

You can't fucking breathe.

His hand snakes up your dress, wedging your panties to the side, until you can hear the fabric rip and tear. Shit, you're going to kill him for that.

The thick head of his cock presses in and stretches you open, as he forces his way inside of you, in time with his sharp and whetted fangs sinking into your flesh. Electricity pings across your nerves, sweet and euphoric and you feel drunk with it.

He's filling you, inch by hard and relentless inch, until you swear you can feel him lodged in your stomach. You feel so fucking full. Full of Miguel until nothing else fits anymore, but he doesn't stop.

His cock nudges along an impossibly deep spot inside you that has you losing orientation and makes the space around you spin, and he's still not fully inside.

White blinding pleasure streaks through your every nerve and crowds your vision, as he sinks you down further on him, until your vision goes blank. He's so fucking big. Always is no matter how many times you take him like this.

Pleasure pool with heat in your stomach as he holds you in place, impaled on the thickness of him.

Your limbs go boneless, unable to hold up your own weight, and for a moment you're not sure if that's the venom released to your bloodstream or just the effect he has on you. You only remain upright because he's propping you up with his body.

His mouth skims along your throat, dragging his teeth up until his fangs tease along the shell of your ear, with the threat of sharpness. The edge of them barely graze your skin, completely unlike the feral impatience he'd sunk into you with, as he whispers into your ear.

"Found you, nena."

Dedication and credits: This piece is dedicated to @foxilayde for her utterly deranged (and amazing) post that had me SALIVATING. Thank you for putting this brainworm into my head. I am shooketh.

[on-leatheredwings]

Second Chances 18+

Yandere! Older! Damian Wayne / AFAB Reader

> romantic, 18+ > tw/cw: dub-con, manipulation into sex, gaslighting(?) > request: Can we get damian gaslighting and manipulating a fem reader into sex when she tries to leave him please :? Like the typical "we've never talked about (insert issue) you know I wouldn't keep doing it if I knew it was upsetting you" and "let me make it up to you" > a/n: this reader is captain fix-a-hoe i can't > word count: 2187 > damian wayne is 21

You crane your neck away, but he takes it as an invitation. 

“Damian, I…” you struggle. 

His hands slide forward underneath your arms, kneading your chest. It does feel good, you regret to admit. 

“Okay, okay,” you sigh, trying to inch away but his hands drag you back once more. Not by force, just by suggestion. By pulling the invisible strings that play your body like a fiddle, and it seems this morning Damian wants it to play his favorite song. You shrugged on your flimsiest robe on your way out of bed this morning, and nothing else. So here you were, paying the consequences. 

“Mm, maybe later, Damian. I have–” you gasp at a wandering digit “–to run errands today.”

You hear a huff, feel an exhale hit the shell of your ear.

“Errands? Where? With who?” 

The questions, absolutely dripping with disdain and suspicion, make something in you snap. 

“Oh, that’s it– I want to break up!” you cry out, throwing your hands up. You bound out of his hold, whirling around.  

Damian flinches backward as if struck. He had snuck up behind you in the kitchen, peppering kisses along the column of your neck. A sweet gesture, but too little, too late. Fuck waiting until you were better prepared – better scripted – to break up with Damian. You just can’t take it anymore. 

Damian stares at you in disbelief.

“You... What?”

You sigh, annoyed at the squeeze of your heart at his dismayed expression. Life as Damian’s girlfriend had been great at first. Like, really great. 

Despite his surly exterior and sharp tongue, Damian proved to be nothing less than devoted, adoring, and awfully caring. He was giving and generous. During dates and every minute besides, he was a perfect gentleman. None of your exes had ever opened doors for you. Or pulled your chairs out. Or guided you gently through a crowd of paparazzi with a protective hand on the small of your back. 

Maybe it was his unique rich kid training that made him the perfect lover for you: the presence of a British butler in his developmental years paired with the strict assassin upbringing. Or maybe, as your friends claimed, you simply had standards below sea level and were lucky enough to fall for a man who could throw money around without blinking. 

You didn’t listen to them, didn’t question your good fortune. You had been glad Damian was in your life. You had been.

“I want to break up,” you say, nearly a whimper. You look away from his shell shocked face. He must have seen this coming, right? How could he not see this coming? You two seemed to barely be getting along these days.

You recall green eyes narrowing after a glance over your outfit. “... I never liked her,” from a sneered lip, when you mention you’re going to your friend’s birthday party. The guilt tripping that occurred once you got home. The unsaid accusations of entirely untrue infidelity. You recall many more instances identical to that. How draining it all was. How you rarely seemed to go anywhere without hesitation, a niggling feeling bidding you to see how Damian felt about it first. 

Without missing a beat, Damian’s jaw hardens. He folds his arms. 

“You want to break up,” he responds in a clipped voice. “Why.” 

‘Why,’ he asks. Though it was hardly a question. He was demanding you answer for yourself. Answer for your crime of daring to maintain agency in your life. How dare you dump him? You narrow your eyes.

“You… you isolate me,” you say, folding your arms and mirroring his stance. You wish you could get angrier. Damian could really bitch out in an argument when he wanted to. Fights felt more balanced if you decided to get angry too. If you didn’t let him kick you around. But any lingering fury has simmered into hurt at this point. Decayed into you prematurely grieving a good thing gone bad. 

“You accuse me of things. You don’t trust me! Or worse, you do trust me, and still want to monopolize me because I’m something you own. I… That’s not good,” you blurt.

Damian isn’t moved. He taps his foot, and your eye twitches. “Is that all?” he says.

Perhaps you did have enough anger, after all. Before you can curse him out, Damian takes a step forward, like a piece on a chess board. 

“If I had known I would have stopped. Immediately,” Damian presses, not looking very apologetic or thoughtful. He instead looks determined. He seems entirely like his old self, at the very beginning of your then-tenuous friendship. That was three years ago, and you liked to believe he had grown a lot since. 

You roll your eyes. “Okay. Good to know,” you return flatly, unsure what he expects you to do with that information. 

Another step, and he grasps your arm. Had it been anyone besides him, you would’ve felt fear. But Damian – for all his faults – could never hurt you. Even if he already has, you think drily.

His grip trails down to your hand, and brings it to his chest, above his heart. Your own heart skips a beat at the gesture. “I would have. You’re everything to me.” His heart beats under your palm. It beats for you, he always liked to say.

You cringe. Not at his words, but because of how they’re said. Damian wields them like a weapon. And they’re effective. You already feel guilt begin to fester.

You swat your hand away, scoffing and shaking your head. “It feels like half of the time, you say that to make me feel like shit. It’s… it’s manipulative.”

“Manipulative? So every time I’ve said I… care for you, you felt manipulated?” He looks at you, in a pitiful expression crossed between crestfallen and offended. You sigh, exhausted. That’s not what I meant, you want to interject, but he continues. “I feel… very deeply. For you.” 

Even now, sharing his feelings was hard for him. You feel proud that he’s trying. You feel angry that he’s trying. You feel angry that you’re the bad guy. The croak in his voice makes you want to reach for him, but...

“Feelings… feelings aren’t enough,” you say mournfully. You hug yourself, because you need one. And giving one wasn’t his place anymore. 

You two stand in silence in his kitchen, which you’ve shared together for a year now. You glance around. You spy your colorful cooking sets, the couple's aprons that hang beside the pantry, the photos of you two at Wayne family holiday parties stuck to the fridge, and other paraphernalia.

You haven’t even left yet, but already you can see the ghost of you that will haunt this house. The hollow chill of guilt sweeps through your body, but you ignore it. You instead tread to one of the kitchen barstools under Damian’s watchful eye and settle on the seat.

“I’ll… I’ll stay at a friend’s,” you say, fighting admirably to keep your voice from cracking. “And I’ll have all my stuff packed within a week.” And you can keep the cat, you want to jest, but you luckily were born blessed with the skill of reading the room. Damian blanches, as if realizing, finally, what you were saying.

“You’re leaving.” God, his utter shock was not making things easier on you. 

“We fight all the time now, Damian,” you reason, almost pleading with him. Why was he making this so hard? The entire situation seems so … undignified. ‘Unlike him,’ is what most people would say. But no, this is entirely like Damian. Always deceptively more delicate than what meets the eye. Always trusting you to hold his heart gently. Not rend it to pieces. Guilt swirls once more, while Damian’s shock yields to insistence. 

“We fight because we’re in love,” he asserts, confessing. You are in awe of his cheeks flushing - what a pure display to be had during a break up. “People fight when they’re in love. Sometimes.” You frown, knowing he’s referring to his father’s failed relationships. What great role models, you scoff inwardly. You had zero desire to emulate that dysfunction.

“... Don’t you?” he says, a desperate lilt in his voice. You bristle. “... Love me?” And the way he says it breaks something in you.

You respond, the words like ash on your tongue, “Of course I... I do love you, Damian. But–”

“I love you, too,” he says quickly. “... so please, don’t leave.” You start to get up from your seat, unable to withstand anymore of this, when Damian falls to his knees in front of you.

You fill with mortification that Damian may start begging. And you don’t know if you can withstand that. He’s Damian Wayne. He who does not beg. 

“... Please,” he begins, as if the word was physically taxing. For him, it probably was. Damian bows his head, dots kisses on the expanse of your thighs. Each kiss is loosening your resolve. Each a balm over bitter wounds. 

“You haven’t given me a fair chance to correct myself. That… that’s not fair. That’s cruelty,” he whispers, along with other such mutterings that drive knives into your heart.

How heartless you were being. Were you going to give up on him so easily? Had he not shown he could change? The guilt swarms into an evil, dark monster. One you know you cannot defeat. You throw back your head, trembling from his butterfly kisses.

“Let me… let me make it up to you,” he says after he finds you writhing under his lips. You don’t know what to say, mesmerized by the need in his eyes and the promise in his words. “I can be better. I will be better.”

No, your mind begs you to say.

Yet looking into those green eyes, lost in its dark forest, you can’t deny him.

“... Okay,” you condone. Your okay is barely audible, weak and helpless like pollen in the wind. But it’s enough for him. It’s going to be enough for you, too. It’s okay. He’s going to change. He knows if he doesn’t, you’ll leave. You’ll leave.

You sate yourself with these thoughts, numb to Damian’s continued affection. You finally do realize he’s still licking at you, when a pair of hands gently separate your knees. 

“Damian!” you exclaim, snapping your knees shut. Your robe flutters with the action as you look at him with disbelief. “D-Damian,” you say. His eyes flutter open at the calling of his name. You sharply inhale at the lustful glaze over his pretty eyes. 

“Let me show you how deeply I feel for you,” he requests. 

But you know this is … strange. Maybe even wrong, if the uncertainty in your gut meant anything. You had just agreed to mend your relationship. You didn’t need the throes of an orgasm to complicate and muddle your feelings.

“... Please.” His voice mutters into your thigh. You’re so close you feel the vibration of the sound, and your skin prickles over with goosebumps. That’s the third ‘please’ he’s said within the hour. It's usually three a day. “Unless," Damian says, brows pinched, "you do not want me anymore.” The look on his face makes you feel sick. 

You don’t know how you can ever leave him in good conscience. Damian’s grown, yes, but he’s still that confused, frustrated boy from when you met. Still searching for acceptance and belonging.

“Yes,” you blurt. “I want you, but–”

“Then, ‘but’ nothing. You are mine.” You fill with heat, from irritation as well as arousal. It’s not as though you’d stopped being attracted to him, after all.

“I–” am not yours, you begin to combat, when Damian licks a hot stripe up your cunt that makes your mind blue screen. 

“And of course, it goes back the same way. I am yours.”

Damian lowers his head, wasting no time in suckling on your clitoris. He knows exactly how you like it, after all. Your hands leave your side and find his hair. You pull on short raven locks, enough that it’s probably painful, but Damian doesn’t protest. 

Damian hikes your legs onto his shoulders, and he’s off to work as if you hadn’t been about to break up with him just ten minutes ago. You feel whiplash. It’s all back to normal. You’re together. He’s between your legs. And despite his administrations feeling great, amazing – it also somehow feels like punishment. 

He may need you, but you need him as well. Only he can make you feel like this. Only he has ever made you feel like this. The heavy tongue that’s probing into you, the hands whose thumbs draw circles on your skin – they’re his. The pressure building in your body, the pleasure being wrought from you – he causes it. The devotion, safety, security and love you have in your life – it’s due to him. 

When you eventually finish in his mouth, you come with a whimper, eagerly being lapped up by the boy before you. He's right. You do belong to him.

And a growing part of your mind is having a hard time finding that so wrong.

[ushiwhacka]

time skip! ushijima wakatoshi + fem! reader | mdni | 1,080 words | established relationship, prone bone, creampie, body worship, it's still summer in my <3

he’s warm underneath you, skin soaked in sun and dusted in salt flakes. slow in the afternoon heat as you lay entangled, knees knocking together, your nose pressed into his neck, fingers massaging his scalp, and his arms loose around you. he smells of sweet coconut and the sea. 

the air sticky and hot, it wraps around you and sinks into your pores. the kind of warmth that feels like melting, blurs the edges of your bodies into one another. 

you’re lulled to sleep by the steady rise and fall of his chest, and wake to a kiss on the crown of your head with the taste of his skin sitting on your lips. he washes the dreams out of your eyes   and zips up your dress. drags his knuckles over your spine then kisses you right at the base do your neck.

and he holds you close, lets you cling onto his arm as you walk along cobblestoned streets. your heels unsteady over slippery stones. watches your every step from underneath knitted brows as you look around and gasp and point out pretty buildings. 

wakatoshi tries to get his fill of you, how you purse your lips in thought while reading the menu, how you turn away, just a little flustered under the weight of deep olive eyes. the expectant look on your face as you shove a fork into his mouth, and he agrees that it’s so good because everything you give him is good. 

he holds your hand in his over the table, squeezes it tighter at the feeling of your foot on his calf. unassuming and batting your eyelashes as you go above his knee, press into the muscle of his thigh. 

he’s even more handsome with his skin a deep bronze, a dusting of pink across his sunburnt nose and the tops of his cheeks. he wears his shirt with the top buttons opened just enough for you to see a peek of the hard planes of his chest. and he looks at you with a strange glow in his eyes, only you, precious and his.

and he doesn’t miss the intention in your voice when you coo his name, “wakatoshi,” drag it out into something of a whine, “you should ask for the check.”

you walk with hands intertwined again. maybe it’s the three piña coladas making your head fuzzy, or maybe he has just spoiled you so horribly, but you decide it’s not enough to just hold him. 

you stomp your feet and tug his arm back. “kiss.” you demand with your neck craned up towards him and eyelashes fluttering. 

there’s something about the way he touches you, the way he rubs the pads of his fingers into your cheeks. ardently. gently. how his mouth slots over yours.

the way he sinks onto his knees in the middle of your hotel room. fiddles with the delicate straps of your heels, presses his lips where the buckle has left an imprint in your skin. then he kisses the back of your knee, the inside of your thigh, the wet spot on your panties.

firm hands trace the back of your legs, grip the fat of your ass. he pulls you forward, buries himself deeper between your thighs, helps you rub your pussy on his face. and gasps turn into silent cries each time his nose catches on your clit. the friction only enough to build your frustration.

“wakatoshi,” it comes out so small, “please. i need you inside me.” he can never resist when you look at him with such pleading eyes, with tears welling up at your lash line. “please, toshi.”

he gives you what you want. always does. 

you whimper into the sheets as he sinks into you. his hand on your lower belly, pulling you up towards him. and even when he’s throbbing inside you, every muscle alight with the need to thrust into you, feel your walls stretch painfully around his girth, he resists. he waits until your body relaxes under him. eager lips drag against your spine and over your shoulder blades, leave searing, open-mouthed kisses up the back of your neck. 

his other arm wraps around your chest, holds you close enough that you can feel the beat of his heart against your back. 

gravelly and dark when he speaks in you ear. “are you alright, darling?”

“no.” your voice breaks. “can you just fuck me already?”

you choke on air your own spit when he pushes into you, when you feel him in the deepest parts of you dripping cunt. it’s new and overwhelming and sends a mess of pleas and prayers scratching up your throat. the tip of his cock sits so snug at your cervix, rubs against it each time he grinds his hips into you. so intentionally slow. 

there’s something about being held so tightly, trapped and helpless in his arms, the raw power of his body pressing into you. the already heavy air feels thicker and you gasp to suck in a breath after each drawn out, squeaky whimper. 

all you can feel is him — the amber of his cologne, the heat of his skin, his breath hot and hitching at the nape of your neck, the salty tinge of his sweat where your tongue lolls out to taste his forearm, low grunts that tingle in your ear and down your spine, the hard muscle where you sink your nails into his flesh.

wakatoshi loses himself in the feeling, in you. there’s something predatory and repressed that overwhelms his senses when he has you limp and trembling underneath him. how you take all of him and keen and whine and beg for more. how your pussy squeezes around him, how it drools all hot and slick when he whispers an “i love you” into the fat of your cheek. whiny and sniffling when you demand he comes inside you.

his chest heaving, he drops his forehead in the dip of your shoulders. listens to the sweet sounds of contented sighs sour into complaints when he even thinks about moving away from you. and he gives you what you want once again, drapes his body over yours and nuzzles into your neck, spoils you with kisses so tender they make you giggle. and he lets you spoil him with your love, wring him and twist him in any way you want. because being wanted by you is the most devastating pleasure he’s ever known.

thank you for reading! interaction is very much appreciated! ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

[xxkissesforchanniexx]

𝐑𝐢𝐩𝐭𝐢𝐝𝐞

𝐏𝐭 𝟐

Pairing: Merman!Hyunjin x Human!fem!reader Genre: Angst kinda, Fluff🥰💖, Smut🔥❤️ Word Count: 4.7k Warnings: Blood, Chan is lowkey a dick, MURDER kinda, sex, p in v, cumming inside (use a protection >.>), possessive themes breeding kink, implied pregnancy it doesn't get a part tho i think thats it tell me if i missed anything.

A/N: Based on this TikTok someone save me from my imagination-

"The humans killed our ancestors, the pushed us far from the shores, our people died because of them."

"But why?" One of the merboys asked.

The class looked at him, small bubbles jetting behind the teacher from seashell horns on the coral wall. "Because they fear the unknown Hyunjin."

It was a while after classes he was moving on the current among the schools of fish, he saw the floaty. He moved for it confused. Why was a floaty this far from the shore. On the bobbing swan was a girl, she stared at him with wide eyes and he stared back. Her hands weren't webbed, she didn't have the fin like appendages jutting out behind her ears... but mostly, she didn't have a tail.

A HUMAN!? Hyunjin swam back slightly, fear prickling through him, the human tried paddling to the shore frantically, also afraid. His brows furrowed. Hesitantly, cautiously, he came above the water and tried forming the syllables he'd learned in class. "You swim no??"

The human girl looked at him. "You speak.."

Hyunjin made a face.

"Sorry. No, I can't swim." She laughed slightly. "What are you?"

Hyunjin tried to think of a word. "You caught... riptide." He pointed to the beach.

The human nodded.

"Catch current." He said, grabbing the floaty and pushing it rather quickly to the upcoming wave heading for the shore.

"Wait." The girl looked at him, her e/c eyes meeting luminescent sea green ones. "I'm y/n. What's your name?"

"Hyunjin." He said, pushing the floaty to the current.

The human grabbed his hand, he froze in fear. But she put something in his hand as the current swept her off. Looking down at it, he smiled slightly at a little moon charm.

Minho was poking Hyunjin's head in class. "Hey bubble maker. I'm bored."

"Class isn't over yet." Hyunjin sighed, fiddling with the moon shaped charm that floated around his neck.

"Sneak out with me." The merman behind him poked him again.

Hyunjin turned to Minho. "What do you take me for?"

"Come on." Minho smiled, the fin appendages behind his ears shifting, the scales that lined them shimmering a deep blue color in the light. "Chan and Yongbok must have already left class too. We can get the others."

"FINE" Hyunjin gave an exasperated huff, swishing his glittery green tail, pushing at the sand floor, startling a small squid.

Minho smiled, asking the instructor if he could use the restroom, a few minutes later Hyunjin asked to also go, and the two didn't return.

Meeting up with their friends, Chan, Changbin, Jisung, Yongbok, Seungmin, and Jeongin, the group swam out of the coral area and surfaced looking around. The sun was setting and sparkled against the water, lapping gently around them.

"Woah..." Jeongin, the youngest marveled, eyes glued to the shore. "How do humans build things like that?" He pointed past the sand to the tall structures.

Chan shrugged, "Last time I was on land, someone said there's a lot of math involved."

Changbin sucked in a sharp breath.

The rest looked at him, he was pointing frantically at something. A boat, not just any, but a boat with nets coming from it.

Hyunjin grit his teeth, "Isn't illegal to fish here?"

"It is." Jisung's eyes narrowed.

Chan looked at Changbin nodding. Before the rest could say something, both mermen swam full speed for the boat, slashing the nets and emerging from the water. Hyunjin watched as the people on the boat fell back into the water in fear. Chan dove again and even if it was far away, the scent of human blood reached Hyunjin's nostrils as he watched Changbin flip the boat.

"Disgusting scum." Yongbok spat, before swimming under.

Jisung pursed his lips before diving under as well, the others followed. As Hyunjin watched the boat capsizing he turned to the shore and his eyes widened at the sight of a human dressed similar to the others swimming and flailing frantically.

Chan came next to him, "Don't let him get far."

Hyunjin's ear appendages flared. He swam quickly, claws emerging from his webbed fingers as he closed in on the screaming human. The metallic scent filled his nose as he slashed the human's throat and let the current float the body to the beach.

You cringed as your boss slapped folder on your desk. "Another?"

"This one was a bit better than the last 4." The man huffed. "Guy we found on shore got out easy. Whoever or whatever killed him did it quick."

You made a face, squeezing the sun charm that hung around your neck. "I'll look into it, might have to stake out."

He nodded. "I could assign you a squad."

"If whatever or whoever did this sees a squad of men, it surely won't act."

"It's for your safety."

You rolled your eyes. "Fine."

Your boss smiled and patted the report. "Get to it."

You flipped through the report, looking at the images and the boat, the claw like marks on the fishermen's chests. You huffed, deciding to go to the forensics lab see what they had to say. When you saw the bodies all the forensic analyst and pathologist could say was that the wounds were ridged as if the blade used was jagged, not uniformly.

"Though, y/n." The forensic analyst pulled you aside to two microscopes. "Have you ever seen something like this?"

You looked into the microscope, there was a keratin like material under the first, similar to human hair but glittering.

"What is it?" you asked.

"A fraction of a scale from something...?" The forensic analyst sighed. "But look at this." She motioned to the other microscope.

Looking through it you saw a cell. "What about it?"

She grabbed you and shook you. "It's blue."

You shrugged.

"Y/N.. I didn't stain that sample."

Your eyes widened and you looked at the skin cell again. It was blue...

"I'm going on a stake out tonight." You said determined.

The pathologist and the forensic analyst looked at you a little scared.

"But-" the pathologist started.

"No!" You crossed your arms. "I'm going to figure this out."

You left the room before they could stop you.

Hyunjin probably shouldn't have but the moonlight looked so alluring through the water. The merman swam to the surface and hummed softly as he took in the moon, full and bright, the sky clear, his right ear fin twitched and he sucked in a breath. Boat...

His eyes narrowed as he tried to identify what type of boat. The nets flew and Hyunjin's gills flared, humans didn't ever learn. He dove under and swam toward the ship, claws out.

"There's something out there!" A man shouted.

Hyunjin burst from the water to slash at the man but his eyes widened as he saw a pair of eyes he hadn't seen in years. He pushed against the boat and dove again, swimming away as fast as he could.. He grabbed the moon charm around his neck and remembered, the human girl who got swept away by the riptide. She... He cursed at himself for not flipping the boat and getting it over with.

"I'm not crazy!" You shouted. "I saw a merman!"

"You've been saying that for the past two months." Your fellow investigator sighed. "Sure more fishermen have died but there's nothing to prove that you saw merpeople."

"Just go home and rest, Y/N, you look crazy." the receptionist quipped.

"Listen kid. You're barely out of high school trying to play investigator." The captain of your department patted your head. "Go home and rest. Let the professionals do their jobs."

You groaned in exasperation and walked to your office, sitting in the spinning chair, you knew you'd seen it, you'd seen it before. It- no.. he had your moon charm, you put your head in your hands and stared at the case report. Could there be others? You noticed it as you scanned the victims, the boats.. You grabbed the phone and dialed the natural resource reserve department.

"Hello. Natural resource reserve department this is Kady speaking."

"Hi I'd like to know if Sta Beach and the surrounding area is protected from fishing for commercial and personal use." You said to the woman on the other end of the line.

"Sta Beach?"

"Yes, ma'am."

There was a long pause on the other end of the line before you heard rapid typing. "Yes it is illegal to fish for any reason in that area."

You nodded. "Thank you." Hanging up the phone you stared at the pictures again. The fishermen were fishing illegally.. so...

You remembered how that blonde haired merman flew out of the water, claws out but froze as he saw you. THE MERPEOPLE KILL PEOPLE WHO HURT THE FISH! You stood and slapped the case folder closed. You grabbed your phone and carkey, dialing your boss's number as you left the station.

"Why are you calling me at 2 in the morning-"

"I know what's going on. I'm going to fix it myself."

"L/N-"

"It was a pleasure working with you chief."

"L/N IF YOU GO OUT THERE! I SWEAR I'LL-"

You hung up the phone and got into your car, staring the engine and driving to the beach again, as you came to the parking, you put your car into park awkwardly across three spaces and ran for the shore.

You watched as gentle waves crashed against the rocks and sand, removing your shoes, you ran to the water. The moon reflecting off it, stars glittering. You stared out for a moment, noticing a ripple in the water, a head surfaced, fin like appendages behind its ears, it shook its dark hair as another head emerged, then another. You held your breath as five more heads appeared and scanned the water, the first turned and locked eyes with you. Your eyes widened as it dove under the surface, the other heads turned.

You saw those sea green eyes again and you knew.. "Hyunjin..."

Hyunjin shouted, "Chan WAIT!" before diving after the first.

Your eyes widened as the first merman, Chan you assumed, burst out of the water claws bared. You scrambled back deeper into land and it landed, tail dissipating into two legs. You shrieked as he jumped for you. Someone caught him and dragged him to the sand. Hyunjin.

"She saw us!" Chan snapped, easily slamming Hyunjin into the sand.

"She's seen me before!" Hyunjin grabbed Chan's hands. "She won't say anything!"

Chan stared at you. The other mermen came to the shore and changed, they looked human, only their eyes having unnatural luminescence.

One of the men, hair purple and eyes pale white stared intensely at your chest.

You bristled, "It's rude to stare at a woman's chest y'know." You said.

"I wasn't staring at that." he walked forward and Hyunjin jumped off Chan but the purple haired man was faster, grabbing your sun charm and pulling close for inspection. "Hyunjin." he turned to the green eyed man. "Is this here you got that from?" he pointed to Hyunjin's necklace.

Chan stood, eyes narrowed. "She's the human?" He rubbed his face, claws retreating. "Why are you here?"

"I'm investigating why the fishermen died. I guess.." You looked at the men. "I have my answer."

Hyunjin looked at you. "You should go back."

"Why-" You started, but the sound of a siren made you turn.

A few of the men dove back into the water when they heard it, the purple haired man looked at Chan. "What if she says something?"

Chan looked at Hyunjin.

The lights from the police cruisers came closer and one pulled around the corner, a head sticking out the passenger window, gun drawn. Before you could react, Chan grabbed you and threw you into the water, you almost screamed, flailing around since you couldn't swim but Hyunjin grabbed your face, forcing your mouth open as he pushed you deeper beneath the surface. You choked as water invaded your mouth but he put something on your tongue and closed it. To save yourself from choking of the sea water you swallowed and covered your mouth.

The purple haired man tilted his head at you. "Speak."

"Huh-" You grabbed your throat, realizing you were breathing. You looked at them, Hyunjin's legs had become a green tail, Chan's a dark blue one and the purple haired merman now had a funny purple and green tail.

Hyunjin smiled and Chan still gave you an incredulous look. "Minho. Make sure they don't get away."

The purple haired man, Minho, nodded, shooting up to the surface.

"She can't stay." Chan huffed, swimming past Hyunjin and you.

Hyunjin looked at you.

"I thought I was crazy." You said.

"When I send you back you'll have to act crazy." he sighed.

"You can't send me back, they saw you guys drag me under-"

"Minho has it handled, you can return and say it was some kind of sea animal." Hyunjin looked at you. "Chan is right, you can't stay here."

"Says who!?" You snap.

"Do you realize I should've killed you when we met? You and I aren't supposed to even know each other! It's forbidden!" The appendages behind his ears flared angrily.

"Why is it forbidden? Ariel makes it work!"

Hyunjin made a face. "This isn't a fairytale. When human and merperson come together. People die. Why do you think we hide from your kind?" He shook his head. "When the sun rises, you're going back."

You stared at him. "Fine."

He swam after Chan, leaving you there.

If Hyunjin had ever eaten his words it would be years later. Blend in. Act human. Get the artifact and go.

So there Hyunjin was almost four years later, walking around a museum on land, dressed in a suit, carrying a "cellphone". He found the artifact relatively quickly, and admired the craftsmanship of his ancestors.

"Something peak your interest sir?"

He turned to the voice, eyes widening. You looked a little different from before, and if the human world was anything like under the sea, an investigator didn't often change carriers to a museum worker.

You looked up at him and bristled. Taking a step back and shaking your head. "Enjoy the exhibit."

Hyunjin opened his mouth to speak but you had already turned on your heel to walk away. He reached for you but a hand on his shoulder stopped him. He looked at Jisung who shook his head.

"Remember why we're here." he said.

Another museum worker came up to him and Jisung, she smiled and motioned the artifact. "According to native legend, almost 500 years ago this blade belonged to a merman, he fell for a human woman on the surface, and when they wedded in secret, the villagers took him for a monster who bewitched her and they took him away. The human woman told the other merpeople what had happened and hey came to get him back, the result was almost the deaths of nearly all the merpeople who lived on the coast, and when they did, the human woman killed herself with this blade. After the merman found out, he too killed himself."

Hyunjin hummed. It wasn't legend, it was fact. He looked at Jisung. "What an interesting story."

The woman nodded, "The museum is closing soon, please make your way out soon."

Jisung smiled, "Of course."

The men left the museum and Hyunjin grabbed the moon around his neck and breathed deeply. He did it for the best, so the past wouldn't repeat itself... he sent you home. But..

"Did you figure out anything?" Jeongin asked.

Hyunjin snapped out of his thoughts looking at him. "The museum is closing in an hour, we can get it then."

Minho nodded. "Kill the least amount of people as we can."

He nodded, thinking about how they would even get out of the city after they got the artifact.

When it was time to get the artifact, the lights in the museum were out, he could see just fine, sneaking in with Yongbok through a window at the back and making their way to the place he'd seen the artifact. Yongbok grabbed the glass and lifted it just enough for Hyunjin to reach his hand in and grab the handle of the dagger.

"How the hell did I know you'd come back here?"

Yongbok looked claws ready but his brows furrowed when he saw you. "Hyunjin?"

Hyunjin looked at you. "Let us pass."

"No." You huffed.

"Yongbok." Hyunjin handed him the dagger. "Get out of here."

"But-"

"Go."

The blonde haired man ran for it.

Hyunjin looked at you. "Why do you have to be everywhere?"

"I work here!" You snapped. "You're everywhere! Stealing that thing!"

"I'm following orders!" he shouted.

"Oh! Are you?! Kill me then! We can't know each other!" You bared your neck at him.

Hyunjin stared down at you. "No."

"Then what orders are you following Hyunjin?" You shoved him. "You let me live time and time again! What orders are you following?!"

"I can't kill you!"

"Why cant you?!"

"What reason do I have to kill you?!"

"Chan said it himself; I know your kind exists! I shouldn't be allowed to live!"

"You say that like you want me to kill you!"

"Maybe I do! I really thought we were friends! From that moment you pushed me back on the current when we were kids, I thought you were my friend Hyunjin!"

He looked away. "I can't."

"But you'll keep me alive." You gave a dry laugh.

"Of course I will!" He whipped around. "What type of moral code do you think I have?"

"You killed those fishermen no problem."

"They were hurting the fish."

You glared at him. "Take your artifact and go." You pulled off your sun charm and threw it at him. "If you see me, you don't know me."

You turned to leave but he grabbed you, pulling you back against his chest, his hair draping over your shoulder. "I just wish you'd understand.."

"I do." You said quietly, trying to pull away, but he held you there.

"No, you don't." He muttered.

"Make me understand." You reached up and touched his head gently, patting his hair.

He pulled away and turned you to face him. His luminescent sea green eyes locked on yours, and hesitantly, he leaned in, his plush, full lips centimeters from yours. And he kissed you gently, nose bumping yours before he turned your head, tongue prodding at your lips for entry. Your lips parted and he sighed softly at your taste, relishing in the feeling of being so close to you.

Then he pulled away, forehead pressed against yours. "I'll be back, I swear it..." He put the sun charm around your neck again and pressed a kiss to your forehead. "Wait for me."

You'd gone back to school, deciding to major in marine biology, it had been almost a year since you'd seen Hyunjin. Still illegal fishermen and the occasional oil dumping people in boats were killed, it was on the news and in the paper. More likely than not it was the work of Hyunjin's friends.

You sat in your apartment bedroom, flipping through your assignment. Your roommate was out for tonight, so it was just you. You tapped your desk as you read through the textbook looking for an answer to a question. You bit the plastic cap of your pen out of frustration.

"Maybe humans want the turtles eating plastic because they're no better." A voice said. That voice was familiar. A voice that was nothing but hostile to you. Now it sounded so calm.

You jumped slightly in fear, turning to your bedroom door.

"Woah woah woah!" Chan laughed. "I didn't mean to scare you. Just thought you might want to see your special guest."

You practically flew from your chair. "Guest? Chan how did you get into my apartment- What guest?" You pushed past the dark haired man and your eyes widened at the sight of Hyunjin and the others, who fiddled with your toaster.

"OW!" A short, well built man jumped, blowing on his finger.

"Changbin!" A thin blonde haired man grabbed his hand and went to the sink. "This is why Chan never sent you to human world before."

The group hadn't noticed you yet.

"Uh-" A young man poked Hyunjin.

"What, Jeongin?" Hyunjin turned to him.

The young man, Jeongin, pointed at you.

Hyunjin looked, his lips parting slightly as he saw you.

"GUYS!" Chan shouted.

The other boys looked at him.

"Let's leave them..." He ushered them out of your apartment.

Changbin was still staring at his finger.

"Oh wait.." You grabbed a paper towel and got an ice cube before handing it to Changbin. "Hold it to your finger. Toaster burns are so scary" You teased.

The other men laughed as Chan finally got them out of your apartment.

You turned to look at Hyunjin.

He smiled at you. "You live alone?"

You shook your head no.

"Where's your roommate?" He asked, fiddling with the ice dispenser.

"She's not coming back until tomorrow evening.." You said.

Hyunjin nodded and hummed softly. "I guess I owe you an explanation."

"Chan needed the artifact to find the old merpeople palace. If he found it then... we could come to the surface when we wanted." He opened your fridge and took out a Tupperware of something, examining it before putting it back. "I didn't think we'd find it.. But we did... it looked so old. It was destroyed."

You stared at him. "We destroyed it all that time ago... Humans right?" You moved and sat on your couch.

He nodded, sitting beside you. "It was destroyed because a merman and a human woman were in love."

You looked at your hands. "Is that why Chan hated me?"

Hyunjin nodded. "He was scared the past would repeat itself."

Silence spanned for a moment and then he hugged to his chest.

"I missed you." He said softly.

"You don't even know that much about me.." you muttered.

"I'm here for a while." he said rubbing your shoulder. "I'll learn."

You huffed a small laugh. Looking up at him, you smiled slightly.

He smiled down at you and leaned down to kiss your forehead gently.

You sat up and leaned in, kissing him gently.

The tips of his ears turned turned red. You giggled at his flustered expression but he grabbed you, kissing you again. He hesitantly reached his arm around you, pulling you closer. His tongue pressed its way between your lips and you smiled, allowing him entry. He groaned softly and pulled you onto his lap.

You put your hands on his shoulders and bit your lip looking into his eyes. He smirked and kissed your neck, his hand splaying on the small of your back. He sucked a dark mark beside your jaw and you moaned softly, he hummed and moved lower, his hands moved under you shirt and lifted it over your head. He tossed it haphazardly, his lips meeting yours again as you tugged at his shirt.

"You could've just asked sweet girl." He pulled his short off and kissed you again, his hands moving behind you unclipping your bra, he tugged it off gently before his hands grabbed for your chest. You moaned and arched into him. He groaned softly as you began grinding against him.

He tugged at your pants and you lifted off his lap, he tugged it down as far as he could before he turned your legs in way where he could pull your pants and underwear off all at once. He smirked at you flustered expression.

You grabbed his crotch and he whined. "Not so cocky now huh?"

He rolled his eyes and kissed you again, fondling your breasts as you fumbled to get his pants undone. When you finally got the zipper down, you pulled his pants and boxers just low enough to get out his cock. You stared at it for a moment.

"Y'know if I remember correctly, you said it was rude to stare a while back." Hyunjin teased.

You rolled your eyes and kissed him gently. "You're so dumb."

He laughed lightly and pulled you against him, rubbing his tip between your folds. "Are you ready?"

You looked into his beautiful eyes and nodded. He pulled you down and you moaned as your walls split around his manhood. He groaned when you throbbed around him, kissing your cheeks gently when you were fully sat on him. You rested your head on his shoulder, trying to adjust to him.

He kissed your head gently and muttered. "Take your time."

You made a face and rocked against him gently.

Hyunjin gasped. You smiled. "Take your time." You mocked.

His eyes narrowed and his hands settled on your hips. "I guess you're good to go."

"Hyunjin-"

He lifted you slightly and brought you down on his cock hard. You squealed and he groaned. He repeated the motion again and again, "Why am I doing all the work here?" He moaned in your ear.

You huffed and pressed your hands against his chest for balance as you began riding him, one of his hands moved to hold your back while the other played with your right nipple as he sucked the left.

You moaned and gasped, "Hyunjin.."

"Huh?" He looked at you, his eyes half lidded, pupils blown wide. he huffed a small laugh. "Let me help you pretty girl." He flipped you over and pushed you into the couch, gripping your thighs as he fucked into you. "Fill you with my babies..."

Your pussy clenched.

"Oh you like that?" He moaned. "I'll fuck you full of my kids. This pussy is mine."

Your eyes rolled back in your head as he hit the spongey area deep inside you. Hyunjin smirked and caged you in pushing your legs almost beside your head, pushing as deep into you as possible. You moaned loudly, loud enough you were scared you'd get a noise complaint from your neighbors. But you couldn't stop yourself as Hyunjin filled you again and again, reaching places you didn't even know was possible.

"Are you going to cum for me?" He asked, grunting softly.

You were too dazed to form a sentence but he grabbed your face and made you look straight at him.

"Answer me honey." He said lowly.

You nodded. "I'm going t-to cum."

He groaned and pressed his lips to yours, "Cum for me, sweet girl."

He rubbed your clit and you fell over the edge, your eyes rolling back in your head as your pussy clenched and spasmed around Hyunjin's cock. He let out a strained moan, following close behind. he gripped your thighs tightly definitely leaving bruises before he finally relaxed.

Your eyes went wide as you heard the door to your apartment unlocking. "Girl, I'm back early, but you will not believe, I saw the finest guy ever downstairs, he said his name was Cha-" Your roommate came around the corner and froze. "There's no way I sit on that fucking couch, BURN IT. GET A ROOM DAMNIT Y/N!"

"Do you understand what you've done Hyunjin?" Chan turned to him, eyes worried. "You could be killed for for this.. Y/n COULD BE KILLED FOR THIS! This is a massive mistake."

Hyunjin looked at Chan for a moment, "It's not a mistake I'll regret in this life or the next."

Chan groaned and facepalmed.

You were driving to the beach, it'd been a bit since you'd gone to see him, most of the time he came to you.

"Mommy."

"Huh?" You looked at the child in the back of the car using the rearview mirror.

"What's Daddy like?"

Your eyes met the child's sea green ones and you smiled. "You'll love him."

[halcyone-of-the-sea]

Songs That Sound Like Sea-Foam (II)

AU MASTERLIST || PART III

PAIRING: Fisherman!John Price x F!Mermaid!Reader

WORDCOUNT: 5.7k

WARNINGS: Blood, abduction, violence, intense gore, death, swords & firearms, angst, hurt/comfort, nakedness, etc.

A/N: Guys, whatever you do, don't imagine Price in a white tunic holding Mermaid you in one arm and weilding a sword in the other. I'm frothing at the mouth.

*I do not give others permission to translate and/or re-publish my works on this or any other platform*

You sit on your black rocks once more, the darkening sky warning of an oncoming storm that you can feel seeping into your bones. In your loose grip, you fiddle with John’s necklace. 

He’d given it to you only recently as a gift, seeing as you enjoyed the shininess of it so much, and you’d taken great pleasure in keeping it around your neck. Out of all of your treasures and trinkets, somehow these measly metal discs had become your favorite. The necklace is smooth under your caress, and you look down at it adoringly, eyes soft and lips curved with delicate affection. 

The cove, as always, was quiet above the call of seagulls and the lapping of waves; the whispering ripples from your tail as it sways under the water. You had gotten content with this—the silence. Because you knew it would be filled by the low gravel of an accented voice soon enough; would be swept away by the chuckles you could wring from beard-hidden lips. 

John was something to look forward to, and you loved the way he looked at you. 

Water hits the top of your head. 

Blinking out of your honeyed thoughts you look up to the crying sky as small slaps of droplets slide across your cheeks. Lashes flinch at every motion, and you glance back to the empty cove before lowering the necklace to your scaled lap. 

Confusion slithers in like an eel to your heart as your eyes slide over the growing waves. The yawning mouth of the entrance sits abandoned of any small fishing ship. 

For three, beautiful, sand-covered, months, John had never missed a day to come and see you. Rain or Sun.

A prick of a sharp fish's spine enters your brain. The rain comes down now in sheets. Lightning and thunder fight, and if you look close enough, the remnants of ancient lightning birds battle overhead with a flurry of black wings and their insatiable need for blood. Yet, still, your eyes stay frozen on the cove entrance as the water rises and rises. 

With a thinning of your lips and the violent pushing from the torrent as it swallows your rocks, you clench your hands over John’s necklace and push off your perch with a shove of your palms. 

Water encompasses you, scales dull, and fins limp as the general calmness from the encompassing water holds you in a constant sway. Your brows furrow.

Why wasn’t he here? You ask yourself, sinking among the seaweed and the schools of quick fish. Concern mingles with hurt. Do…do you think he’s alright? 

Human ways were still confusing to you, even if John had been helping you understand them and giving little clam-shells of information. But they seemed…like violent folk. Angry and selfish, from what John had said about their wars and squabbles. The thought of your fisherman potentially being in danger on land was terrifying to you. 

There wouldn’t be anything you could do if that happened.

Your fingers tighten around the strap of his necklace as you stare at the surface, back lightly hitting the bottom of the cove with a puff of sand. Crabs scatter as your tail twitches, your lungs sighing in their own special way. 

John can take care of himself, you reason. He’s just a little late is all. 

John’s never late. Your face creases, but you stuff the thought down, twisting on your side and bridging the piece of jewelry to your lip—kissing it once as sand digs into your skin. Holding the fisherman's property to your pounding heart, you close your eyes and wait as any lonely and loyal Merwoman would; tail held in close and the reverberations of a rabid downpour above you.

—

You wake up to the darkness of night. Blinking, you sigh to yourself and move a slow hand to rub at your eyes. After a moment of fatigued confusion as to why you weren’t in your cave, you realized why you had been out here in the first place.

John. 

Arms pushing you up, your mind fights to wake itself, laced with algae and fatigue. How long have you been asleep? Has the storm stopped? Surely you hadn’t slept the entire day away. You pull the fisherman's necklace over your head as you stare at the sand below you. No fish were slipping past besides one that brushes your tail, which you found odd, but didn’t think much of it. 

Shaking your head, you feel sluggish and put the necklace back on with a huff. You worry what John will think of you perhaps missing his late visit and smile slightly in humor. 

The fish brushes your tail again. 

Scales shimmering, you turn with an annoyed pull to your lips, fins scraping something hard and rough even as it’s saturated by the water of your cove. When you spot it, not only the rope but the shadow of the large hunting ship above you, your body drains of any life that had once lived in your lungs. It wasn’t nighttime. 

Eyes widening at the loop that was parading around your tail, you don’t have time to move before it tightens with a force that leaves your mouth opening in a bubbled scream; ruthlessly jerking your body along the seafloor. 

Desperately, your hands rip along the rocks and weeds of the bottom of the cove, getting torn and shredded in their soft nature as easily as paper. Your body smacks into every little object with a rattling to your bones that makes you sob. Red saturates the water as you’re manhandled in long and steady intervals back and up. 

No amount of rampaging your tail does can break the rope, and with a last-ditch effort as the sandy floor gets farther and farther away, you twist around and tear at the woven cord with sharp nails. Adrenaline pumps, pupils tiny and panicked. 

No! No, not like this! You can imagine the pain of it now—the hooks and the ripping of scales from your supple flesh. Even now the tiny ones under the dig of the vice are peeling away in long strings of red to disappear behind you as you’re thrust upward. They’re delicate, don’t these monsters understand? They’re beautiful and treasured and they’re destroying them!

You scream in pain at the pulling of your spine; a large creaking in your muscles. 

But as you gain a small sense of feral hope when the rope begins to fray from your grip, the iron net squashes any belief of surviving. 

It slams into you as John would cast his own for his prey—but this one is larger and full of cruel, curved, spikes. Is this what your parents endured? What the harpies had meant? The iron sinks far quicker than rope, and it traps you in a dome of hell before you can mutilate yourself out of the maw.

Oh, Gods, it was going to peel your skin away.

True fear pounded in your breast, and with a cry of John’s name from under the water, you watched with horror as the net descended onto you and your bloody wounds.

They drag you above waves and the first thing you do is thrash and wail so loud the seagulls shriek in surprise. There’s crimson staining the waters sloshing at you with combative ease, the violent storm from before now a light slapping at add to your fear. In the wake of open air, the curved spikes dig into your flesh as easily as a unicorn’s horn can penetrate a wyvern’s armor. Skin everywhere is assaulted and peeled to a tautness of bodily torture. 

Oh, and your precious tail. 

It hurt so badly, like nothing you had ever experienced before. 

“John!” You scream as your body strikes the side of the large ship, voice cutting out and leaving a bawling yell behind. Your form was being pulled by steady hoists and barked orders. 

All around you can hear laughing—joking. Loud exclamations of approval. 

You’re sure they’ve dislocated your tail right at the joint, how could they not have? The ream of their strong arms and ruthless greed. Oh, your tail, your precious, beautiful tail.

Long streams of salty tears fly down your dripping face; arms pushing the spikes away from your neck and face with futile action. The net and rope were your earthly graves. 

They slam you to the deck like a fish. 

Jerking and slapping around, your arms hit the wood with a bird-paced heart. The iron rattles and keeps you down like a weight. 

Brokenly gasping through loud cries, the sudden jeering faces from all around leave your fear all-consuming. 

They were ugly—broken teeth and sun-destroyed skin. Eyes that bugged and scars that could be from either a sword or a Strix’s claws. More than likely it was from meager squabbles with crewmates. But you balk back nonetheless, terrified and bleeding profusely. 

They were going to rip you to pieces. 

Inside your chest, your lungs are rising and falling quickly, and the hands that glide along your form make you want to burn your skin off. They grip at you, yanking you around as your hair gets caught in the gaps between the iron. With nail and tooth your bite and claw, but how many were there? Ten? Twenty? 

There’s uproar and more jokes as you fight back; body lifted and spikes torn out of skin as you arch your back and howl in agony. Their hands are not John’s. They don’t caress your smooth skin with reverence or holiness—this is cruelty. This is a sadistic pleasure. 

“Isn’t it our lucky day, Lads?!” A high and grating voice bellows out, and finally free of the net, all you can do is cry and flip your tail uselessly along the polished wood as they throw you down. Your vision blacks and slowly comes back—hair matted and skin slick with more than water.

It hurts to breathe too much. Whimpering, your cheek presses itself into the deck as footsteps take someone closer.

“Holy God, would ya look at that down there, eh? A true maiden of the sea,” A thunderous belt of achievement from everyone leaves you flinching, eyes tight shut to try and focus on anything but the excruciating way your skin throbs and gushes blood. “Though we’d have gotten all of them by now!” 

Haggard laughs and rotted smiles. 

A hand snaps to wrench your face upward, and you yowl and grasp at your head as your delicate strands go tight.

“Now who’s the little beauty we have here?” Whoever this man was, he had no standing on John. On your Fisherman. 

Loose skin and an age-rotted tunic, a belt at his waist holding a scabbard with a gold sword and twin pistols. He had only one eye—brown as a pile of mud—with a black eyepatch over the other. 

Your fluttering lashes took in a cracked-lipped grin of approval; whether at your battered appearance or the nature of your species, you knew not. But you didn’t like the way he was glancing at your tail as if it was made of gold one bit.

“Lords above, did ya have to be so brash, Lads?” Spittle slaps your face and you fight again with the hands in your locks to get away. The man’s hold jerks your face back and forth until you stop with bile building in your throat. “Wrecked her silky skin, you did!”

Being thrown back, your skull slams the deck before you hurl your guts in a sputtering of air and crimson. Many laugh and kick at your already broken scales. You grit your teeth and refuse to cry out.

“Get ‘er tied up and in the Hold for storage. If the scales are good enough, we’ll peel ‘em tomorrow.”

“Peel?!” Your face whips into a twisted glare, and pain leads to fast anger; wrath, even. The men grow gradually silent at your outburst and the leader comes to a slow stop—his back to you. “How dare you?” You gasp out, hands pushing your body slightly backward until the agony makes you stop with a lip-bitten whine. “How dare you do this to me? What have I done to you and your men? You’re nothing but senseless cowards who shy at something that lives its life differently! Am I only a pile of coin for you?!”

Your blood runs over the deck and seeps into the grain. Staining it with your memory and presence like a ghost that’s not yet dead. Loose scales shimmer and drip red. They were damaged and dull—your flesh was mangled. 

The leader turns back and smirks with blackened teeth. “More than a pile, Little Dearie. Far more. And if those hooks had been kinder, the King would have loved a beauty like you in his collection.” A look is slid down your body with a knowing chuckle.

He stalks off and you peel back your lips to say more, but a stained rag is shoved into your mouth instead, shutting up your rageful screeches and any hope of a peep of potent song despite not knowing these devils’ names.

By the time they chuck you in the Hold, body bouncing along the wood, and shut the hatch with a reverberation of wood, you had managed to rip someone’s ear clean off and break another’s arm; but there was only so much you could do. They had bound your hands behind you with a blow to your spine.

Curled up and longing for the sea, for John, you hold the only thing you have left. 

Silver discs on a chain, the metal smooth and the only thing now shining. You feel it hit your breastbone and sob as the headache of blood loss begins to set in. Laughter echoes from above your dark prison.

—

John saw the blood in the water before he saw the scales being pushed back and forth on the beach. Caught in that gentle push and pull now that the storm had ceased beyond a light drizzle—bright and reflecting the misty sun; far more vibrant than a fish or a sea serpent. But the blood. 

Christ, there was blood in the water. 

Blue eyes stare blankly at the sea-foam at the shoreline, red and bubbling, John’s pupils small and the lashes held back even as a salty breeze hits them with a burn. At his sides, his hands slowly close into fists. 

Jumping off the side of his ship, the man lands in thigh-deep water, gritting his teeth before he shoves his way to the sand and black rocks of land. He doesn’t know what drives his actions, or why he’s doing this, but with quick hands, he snatches up what scales he can find and keeps them in his palm; mind on fire. 

Anyone could see the fury in John’s gaze—a growing hatred for what was just beyond sight. When he has all he’s able to carry, he wades back through the water and gets himself back atop his boat easily with one hand. 

Walking quickly and soaked, he pushes aside a small cloth atop a barrel; seeing a gold box hidden under it. He opens it deftly, and while he puts the damaged and torn scales inside, John glances at the expensive and elegant twin cuff bracelets that sit in blue velvet. 

When he had been away buying them for you, he should have already been here. Wasted time.

I left her here alone. Knowing what could happen if I did. A growl bounces under his beard, face going red with anger. The two of you had quickly become enraptured with each other—drunk off flesh and touch like non-sentient animals. 

And something had taken place while he was away. You were gone, the fisherman knew. The water wasn’t as clear, the fish were terrified, and the blood alone proved this—the scales. This wasn’t an accident.

And it had something to do with that ship he’d seen on the horizon with his narrowed eyes not minutes prior. The Captain was slowly re-taking over the man.

“Fuck!” John curses, teeth bared as he spins and readies his sails. With violent pulls at the ropes, letting the mainsail shift down in a flurry of white sheets, he turns the vessel around in no time at all. It was as if Poseidon himself was pushing the ship forward to that small dot on the ocean line, far, far away. 

Deadly purpose bled into his heart, and the early afternoon sun forced him onward with hellfire following at his heels. He re-wraps his gift in the meantime, only taking a single scale from inside and putting it in a small pouch on his belt before walking to another barrel and pausing. This one was older, more sun-bleached. 

John deserted the service years ago, but not long enough to forget how the world of men can be. With a grunt on his thinned lips, the brunette rips the top off and grasps inside. 

With an experienced hand out came a sheathed Cutlass, the leather of the handle worn and indented to his very grip. It found a place on his belt, and John wasted no time in making the Flintlock pistol follow. 

A fisherman he may be, but in his blood John would always be a killer. He knew how to fight dirty and fight well—carve skin and not flinch at the sparks of gunpowder. There was no hesitation as to what he would do to get you back. 

In his chest, there was a weight of rage and concern as he glared at the far-off Hunter’s ship.

“What the hell have you done to her?” He growls, beard back and eyes narrowed. His hands clenched and unclenched with loathing. 

John’s thoughts go to the horror stories he’d heard about Merfolk and them getting caught in the open ocean, when he’d found you he had been surprised. He felt his heart beat faster when you were around, his blood would spike with love and affection. 

It was strange, unheard of, but he can’t stop it now that it’s happened. 

No one touched you with their cruel hands and lived. 

John didn’t like it, but he hung far enough away from the Hunter’s ship so that the cover of night hid him. Dark stars hung at his head, tunic blowing in the chilled breeze when the waves took him close enough—all was silent. Asleep. 

Lantern light slid along the waves, and with deft fingers, John anchored his ship with measured efficiency a small distance away. Looking over the side, the fisherman grunts under his breath and sets his shoulders. Without a single glance in hesitation, he slips silently off the deck into the water. 

Immediately, John kicks his legs and resurfaces with a puff from his nostrils, whipping his head to the side to dispel water. Making no sound, the man swims the distance between vessels, hearing the creak of the still and bulky form of the Hunter’s ship ten times his own sitting above him. 

“Fuckin’ bastards,” he grumbles to himself and thinks of your condition intensely. His heart hammers even in the clutches of the frigid waters. But beyond the insult, no other words needed to be spoken—the prior Captain was a man of action.

Violent Action.

John wades to the side of the wooden structure, the waves threatening to smash him tight into the hull and skin him against the barnacles, but he braces himself and grabs ahold of the knife at his belt, next to his cutlass. In his stupor to get to you quickly, he’d forgotten that his Flintlock would be completely useless now that it had been submerged in water. 

Grunting and trying to remain as quiet as possible, the man sets his blade into the side of the ship into the thin slits available. In his free hand, he takes up his cutlass and does the same. In a feat of impressive upper-body strength that leaves his muscles bunching and tensing—veins visible from the side of his neck—John huffs breaths as he climbs the ship one panel at a time. 

He groans and sends the blades back in at opposite intervals, the firm thunk-plunk, thunk-plunk, bouncing off the dark air as the moon shines bright. But no one awakens.

The Fisherman pulls himself up the side of the ship and swiftly ducts behind a pile of large crates on deck to gather himself, wiping his forehead with his arm.

“C’mon Sweetheart,” he mutters, “hold on just a little longer.” Duel wielding both weapons, narrowed eyes look across the open area—the stain of blood all along the wood. Glimmering in the low light catches John’s fiery gaze. 

Scales. Your scales. Littering the deck and scattered all over. 

If possible, the man becomes even more enraged, knuckles going white over his blades. The man stationed on deck was asleep across the way; leaning back and snoring. John locks eyes on him and hides back a vicious smirk. Quickly sneaking over and staying near the edge of the lantern’s lights, the ragged-looking man awakens to a blade at the base of his throat and a voice in his ear.

“The woman,” John speaks slowly and deeply, accent rolling out. The watchman tenses in his grip, but John grits his teeth and grits out, “Where the fuck is she?” 

“W-woman?” Usually, the brunette could paint himself a patient man, like a flag fluttering in a breeze waiting for the next bout of heavy winds without care or concern. But this was different. 

By God, if these pathetic fortune-seekers had hurt you even in the slightest bit…

John presses the blade harder to the man’s throat, thighs shifting in agitation, glaring at the far-off water beyond this stranger’s shoulder.

“The woman.” Blood falls down the blade edge, crimson. A tiny whimper. “The one that you stole away like an fucking animal.” 

“The fish?” The tone was incredulous but with a snarl the voice continues, whispering pitifully out in fear over the night’s silence. “She’s in the Hold! I swear it, Sir, on God’s green earth I do—”

John slits the man’s throat and takes his leave before the body drops, blood spraying into the air with a garbled cry.

—

You don’t sleep so much as you fall unconscious from the lack of blood. Inside your head, your brain is fuzzy and light—everything swirling like a jewel’s many faces reflected onto a wall. The rocking of the Hunter’s ship, while something you should be used and accustomed to, made you sick at times until only the watery bile that fell from your lips hit the wood. 

At some point, you’d given into the call of nothingness at the lack of seawater and the violent shivering of your shoulders. Your tail had gone completely numb. 

Everyone knew that Merfolk needed the sea to survive—you couldn’t live without feeling its loose arms around you for long periods, pulling you in and filling your airways. 

This was torture. 

But whoever was ripping up cloth at your limp side was muttering you back into the darkness of the Hold. 

“I’m right ‘ere, c’mon, Love. Open your bloody eyes.” Hands pressed to your face, tilting it and hissing before a thumb slid along the swollen skin of a cut. “I’ll rip them to pieces…mark my word. They’ll not live through this.” 

It sounded like…

Gripping at your binds and gag, both items slipped away right before the larger cuts on your body were suddenly packed with strips of rough material. Occasional whispers of words and curses wafted out. 

“...J-John?” Your voice is rough, shattered, but at the same time you manage to force open an eye. 

Tight blue eyes meet yours immediately, and his voice softens to a painful degree as he addresses you. “That’s it, atta girl. Just keep focusing on my voice, then, yeah? Come back to me, Sweetheart.” 

Tears well your ducts, lips quivering. 

John was curled over you and had ripped up the bottom of his tunic to make strips of bandages to try and stop the bleeding. He came for you, gruff voice and large frame, all.

“How are you—” Your voice breaks into body-shaking coughs, but that doesn't deter the man. He carefully puts a hand forward and tilts you into his arms; head resting on his chest. Your ears twitch to the sound of his heartbeat, loud and fast. You cling to it like a lifeline as those calluses graze your skin once more.

How was he here? 

“What have they fucking done?” John’s voice is dark and volatile, his hand stroking your matted hair. “What did they do?” 

He’s not so much asking you as he’s asking himself. You breathe in a wheeze, not noticing the crimson staining John’s clothes—none of it his or yours in the slightest. The other men on the ship weren’t the Fisherman’s priority, only you; always you. But whoever had been in his path had met the unfortunate end of being on the opposite side of his blade. 

When he’d found you like this….it was like his entire chest had fallen still. His eyes wide with horror and fear. 

John had never felt something that visceral before, except when you hadn’t been in your cove. 

“Oh, my Beauty.” Chapped lips press to your forehead, breathing you in as arms curl around you. “Let me bring you home.” 

You shake and cry silently into his neck, weak hands coming to grasp at his neck. 

“They’re going to take my tail.” 

“No,” John’s answer is immediate and firm, pulling you closer until you might slip into his skin. “No, they’re not doing a damn thing to you. I promise, Love, not a single person will ever touch you again, you hear?” 

You burrow into his neck, this fisherman’s flesh soft under your force. Hands keep you to him, and with another kiss on your cheek, they tighten and gently move you into the clutch of his arm. 

John looks down at you with great distress, eyes flickering over every sign of abuse and hurt. The men whose throats he’d slit in their sleep deserved to be awake and see the blade descending for their neck, he thought. 

“I’m going to lift you, Sweetheart, eh?” He grunts to push aside the hatred in his tone, not wanting to scare you. He gazes around the Hold and at the low ceiling—the insistent rocking from the waves just outside. 

You suck down greedy breaths and nod slightly, shaking in his arms. John’s eyes crease in sorrow but has no option but to continue; the both of you can’t be here when the remaining men wake or discover the bodies. 

Your Fisherman frowns but does what he’s able to both quickly and effectively lift you, your tail hanging limp and dripping blood from the fins. When you tense and whine, John shushes you quietly.

“Hush, now, it’s alright. It’ll all be over soon, I’ve got you. I’m taking you back home if it’s the last thing I damn-well do.” Your teeth grit with held-back pain, every movement was agony and to think made it worse. 

Home? Home wasn’t safe anymore. Like taking a knife to the heart, the thought makes the torment all the worse. 

John holds you in one arm, head under his ear and rubbing against his beard as his muscles strain to keep you right to him with his torn tunic and blood-freckled skin. In his free hand, he wields his Cutlass and exits the Hold slowly, eyes surveying the scene. 

The scores of bodies were only a fraction of the men of this ship—only one side of the crew’s quarters that ascended up to the deck. John knew the anatomy of a ship well, certainly one like this. 

His only question was why such an unsavory bunch was living on a King issued hunting vessel in perfect condition. Was the bastard hiring pirates for his extermination game?

“If I ever get my hands on him…” John shuts himself up as someone groans in their sleep from the far wall. 

He glares in the general direction and puts his body between yours and the straight direction that he walks—sword parallel to the ground and knife at his belt as a backup. Ready and wound for a fight. 

“You..you came for me?” You ask softly as John carries on, your blood leaving a crimson trail behind the two of you; your mind is loose to all except the way your Fisherman’s thumbs run circles in your rent scales, fingers gripping under your tail joint which aches and hurts. His bicep is curled at the small of your back. 

John carries you like you weigh nothing.

“‘Course,” the brunette's eyes slide to yours, true honesty and firmness behind his words. You flutter your lashes at the fatigue in your body and his feet speed up, speaking into your scalp and nuzzling his beard into you. “No one messes with my girl.” 

“I’m not a…girl, John,” you remind, softly.

The smirk on your head gives you strength, fear steadily draining like contaminated liquid.

“No,” he whispers, “no, not quite. You’re something far more lovely, aren’t you?”

Your heart swells, tears dripping down your cheeks once more before lips slide them away with brushes of a kiss. He carries you up the stairs quickly, sword at the ready. 

Lantern light makes you squint, hands tightening around John’s neck. 

He hums to you, a small melody that you can latch onto to help focus—it keeps your mind working as everything else falls away. John’s warm flesh and his lungs, the sound of his pulse. 

He came for you. No man would do that besides him—no specimen of any species. No one except John. 

Your Fisherman. 

You’re halfway to freedom, feeling the sea air on your flesh and longing for the depths of untouchable waves. You peek from John’s neck and blink delicately, what little scales still intact shimmering, and fins aching for water. 

“John,” he begins to pick up his pace, but still glances in attentive question. “I need to be in the water. I can’t go long without it.” You already felt a bit stronger by just being by the open sea. The man nods and you smile deeply, face twisted. You kiss his cheek deeply. “You have my thanks, Fisherman.” 

His tight expression gradually loosens with care and love. “Doubted me, then?”

“Perhaps only a little,” he kisses your lips, cheeky smiles peeling his beard. 

“Well, we’ll have to fix that, eh?” The man’s face is lit by lanterns, stars like a crown above his head that illuminate the small scars and the sheen of sweat like a portrait of a good man. 

Perhaps humans were truly more magical than you had been taught to believe, for no mortal man would do this for anybody. 

In the midst of him carrying you over to the edge of the ship, he’s only three feet from the drop when the familiar sound of a Flintlock hammer being clicked back hits his ears. You feel John lock up, and your eyebrows crease in confusion; not common to the model of metal and wood. 

Looking over his shoulder, you strangle down a raspy gasp.

“John—”

“I know, Love.” He whispers, turning slowly with his sword at his hip. The stranger with the eyepatch has his weapon leveled with the brunette’s chest. “Easy, let me handle it. Keep focusing on me.”

“A thief in the night!” The leader calls, and alarm from below deck start to rise in question at the noise. John grits his teeth and his stance widens. “Thought to make off with my prize, did ya? I’ve not seen you before on this ship.”

“Hell,” John grits out, loudly now that he’s caught. You burrow deeper into him and he shields you, voice hot with rage. “Save me the fuckin’ monologue. She isn’t yours—to own or bloody take.” 

As he speaks he points his cutlass in the leader’s general direction, holding it aloft with a strong and pale arm. The leader smirks, and soon the pound of rushing feet enter the deck—men holding weapons and clubs. You make a noise of tension and John tries to shift you farther into his grip even more. 

Your tail hangs and brushes the deck, gaining some feeling back to it gradually. 

The leader laughs. “What that creature is, Mate, is enough gold for a whole moon’s time in rum and pleasure.” His single eye falls on you as the crew gets closer, crowding in and yelling. 

John shuffles back and snarls like a boar, pointing his sword’s tip from one chest to another. 

“Keep your bastard eye off of ‘er, you prick. Find your score elsewhere. She’s coming with me.” So sure he sounds that you yourself believe it. Your chest swims with pride.  

The crew closes in, but jumping at this stage was dangerous. The ones with firearms could aim in the water before you both could get away and John didn’t know if you could swim still. Your fins were torn and tail flinching with damaged nerves.

Eyepatch barks a vile laugh, “...I think he loves the beast!” John’s body winds even farther and your eyes slip to the side of his red face. He grunts stiffly, hair damp. Everyone follows in their amusement, mocking the two of you. “I knew that necklace around her neck meant something.” Your body stills and you glance down at John’s gifted silver. Blue eyes flash to the same, but as if suddenly realizing the nakedness of your top surrounded by such brutes, your Fisherman pushes on the back of your spine to shove your chest into his own with a panicked look. You grunt in surprise, but let him. “No greedy Mermaid would bother with a trinket like that! A piece of rubbish metal. It means something to her—and I’ll bet that something is you, Thief.” 

Me, greedy? Your eyes narrowed into slits. If you knew his name, you’d sing his death song in an instant. Your Fisherman’s face goes stiff, knowing the predicament the two of you were in. There was no way he was giving you up. 

But himself…

Tiny lids narrow on the arrogant leader.

“Do you trust me?” John whispers to you, suddenly, as all sides were surrounded and the water just as dangerous as the deck. 

Face creasing, you say, confused and worried, “Of course.” 

“...Then forgive me.” 

He throws you from the side of the deck, and whirs to run his blade through the nearest man. 

TAGS:

@luuvbuzz, @emerald-valkyrie, @anna-banana27, @blueoorchid, @cryingnotcrying, @writeforfandoms, @homicidal-slvt, @jade-jax, @frazie99, @elmoees, @littlemisstrouble, @alpineswinter, @phoenixhalliwell, @idocarealot, @lavalleon, @facelessmemories, @h-leigh, @20forty9, @glitter-anon-asks, @emily-who-killed-a-man, @neelehksttr, @aeneanc, @escapefromrealitysm, @i-d-1-0-t, @pparcxysm, @hawkscanendme, @caramlizedtomatos, @konigsleftkidney, @sanfransolomitatm, @maelstrom007, @jemandderkeinenusernamenfindet, @pheobees, @glitterypirateduck, @uselsshuman, @fan-of-encouragement, @halfmoth-halfman, @ghostlythunderbird, @I-inkage, @pukbadger, @kopatych11, @0nceinabluem00n, @cocrorapop, @knightofsexyness, @abnormalgeil, @smallseastone, @jacegons, @330bpm-whiplash, @simon-rileys-housewife, @4-atsu, @tiredmetalenthusiast

[bluefunkybeats]

LAUNDRY STORIES WITH ZAYNE

pt1 headcanons. sfw

ZAYNE WHO RETURNS TO YOUR CROSS-LEGGED FIGURE ON HIS BED HOLDING THE WHITE LATTICE-PATTERN LAUNDRY BASKET. He gives you a small smile as he comes through the doorframe and sets the basket on the bed and takes a seat himself on the mattress, already getting a start on folding the clothes freshout the dryer.

There’s a gentle light coming in through the window, and the sky such a pure light blue shade for the autumn.

The t-shirts and sweatshirts get neatly folded quite quickly with your two pairs of hands, and Zayne begins stacking them to store them. All that’s left in the apple-pie-latticed basket are a sea of mostly white socks.

Zayne turns back to you after storing everything where it should be in the wardrobe, quite inquisitive at the scene he’s now watching.

He flumps down again at the bed and already curiously grabbing one of the rolled pair of socks.

“Well this is unusual,” he says piqued in his hypnotic velvet voice, rotating the sock like if studying it will uncover something new. “I didn’t know you organised your socks this way.”

“Mhm. Foolproof for finding the right sock,” you comment.

Of course he won’t tell you that you can just make piled matching pairs. It’s cuter this way anyway.

He lets the little snowy ball smelling of fabric softener rest in his palms between his opened thighs as he queries back to you, looking a bit distracted making the little rolls.

Before you know, the side of your cheek is met with a small bun of white against your cheek, making you look up to Zayne extending his arm to a v-shape to let it reach you.

“It’s look like a little snowball,” he remarks, with his signature little smile on his face.

Now you’re clearly piqued by his behaviour, which you let know with a breathy smile.

IT’S VERY EARLY IN THE MORNING, AND THE SKY IS STILL GLOWING DARK INDIGO IN THE WET WINTER WEATHER.

Zayne is already risen for work, finishing with what he needs to get done before heading off to the hospital. He’s in the kitchen under only the dim white light of the range hood, looking at his phone for any updates in his schedule. He already transcribed a doodle response and short phrase to your mess on his wall-hung calendar, which he had to complete under the very same scarce light source because it’s so dark outside it illusions night time. There’s leftovers suitable for breakfast in the fridge in case you doze in for a few more minutes and don’t have as much time to prepare it.

The reminder to not forget his watch jolts to his mind, and so he enters the bedroom very quietly, so very slowly turning the door handle and slowly lifting it back up to lessen the recoil sound.

In the same cautious manner he slides open his wardrobe to find his watch. He can’t find it for a while, and turns his head around to where you’re still sleeping.

From his viewpoint looking at you, he can see a little further behind you something silver shine on your bedside table. Ah, he remembers now: when he came home last night, very tired, you insisted on giving him a well deserved hand massage before he head into the shower. With the both of you sat at the foot of the bed when he’d just come in the bedroom, gently kneading his hands…; you took the watch off him then.

But, then you did put it back in its correct place, because he remembers finding it there as he dressed into his loungewear whilst you took your own shower followed by him.

However, before closing the closet door, Zayne quickly began missing your touch on his hands again; which led to him fiddling with his watch, his favourite watch, engraved with his name in your handwriting and a heart.

Then he recalls how he had the watch on during dinner, and how you took it off him again when he settled in bed with you and you continued on his hand massage for a little while. That’s how it wound up there.

Zayne quietly steadies to grab his memento of you on your bedside table, and a very rumbled and near silent thunder brings a streak of light between the small gap of the closed curtains.

From the short-lived light source, he was able to catch glimpse on how your fluffy house slippers now appeared a bit stained and discoloured. He surveyed it was likely from the night you crept to the garden, still in your pijamas and slippers to let a collar-clad cat inside the solarium for the night; who was well received with food, water, and a woolly blanket. It was cold and the grass damp that late night, which is the reason why you let the cat come in and why your slippers got soiled.

Zayne grabs a page from a handy small notepad handing ‘round, clicks his pen once and starts writing on it. He clicks it once more and puts it away.

Zayne follows by lifting your hand that’s almost hanging off the bed and bringing it to his lips with a kiss, settling it back down gently, and turning to fasten his watch clasp secure on his wrist.

Your lover then bends down to pick up your slippers, his flexed index securing one slipper, and a flexed middle finger securing the other. Then he makes a job of toeing off his own slippers.

You wake up a few hours later, and notice the little note by your bedside: “Your slippers are in the washing machine. Wear mine.”

You look down and sure enough, Zayne’s slippers are facing outwards from the bed, just where your feet would naturally go to stand.

[perlelune]

no body, no crime | Coriolanus Snow | ix.

Your childhood friend returns from his exile in district 12, but he's not the sweet, quiet boy you once knew anymore.

Warnings: NON-CON, Plinth!Reader, Gaslighting, Drugging, Murder, Forced Marriage, Forced Pregnancy, Loss of Virginity, Somnophilia

This is a dark story. Heed warnings before reading under the cut.

𝖘𝖊𝖗𝖎𝖊𝖘 𝖒𝖆����𝖙𝖊𝖗𝖑𝖎𝖘𝖙

You fiddle with the hem of your sleeve in the back of the car. You glance at the driver. His eyes are peeled on the road, silence filling the air. You’re thankful. You’re in no mood for small talk. Your eyes travel outside the car window. Behind you, the Corso and the Snow’s apartment is getting smaller and smaller.

Still, the weight in your chest isn’t alleviated. Not one bit. Despite heading home, not an ounce of joy finds its way inside your heart.

Your mind was at war with itself at the Snows’ penthouse. You couldn’t settle on a decision. In fact, you considered going back inside the apartment. Because that at least was simple, easy…natural almost. If it weren’t for Tigris pressing you to get inside the car and physically nudging you inside it, you’re not entirely sure you’d have even made it here.

And now…guilt consumes you.

You should be back in the room, dutifully waiting for Coriolanus ‘ return as he instructed. You’re breaking the rules. His rules.

Your stomach aches. You want to puke. What have you done? You almost find yourself wishing you were still back there. 

In a twisted way, Coriolanus has become a scourge you’ve grown familiar with, a woe that blends so well with all the others. He terrifies you…but he also knows you. So well. All your fears, your hopes, your dreams, your insecurities. It’s more than you can say for anyone in your life. Even William. He thinks you’re that perfect, pure, resilient girl. You never had the heart to burst his bubble.

A deep breath makes his way inside your lungs. 

No. No.

Coriolanus is bad. Coriolanus hurt you. You keep reminding yourself of that, replaying every moment when he made you feel small, powerless.

Besides, you miss your mother. Ma’s soothing words. Her gentle voice. Her warm embrace. Ma always makes things better despite struggling to understand you sometimes. 

You need her and you bet she probably needs you to. 

You even started to long for your father’s stern brow and disapproving stares.

As for William…truth be told, you’re beginning to ponder if you ever deserved him. He was always too good for you. Too kind. Too sweet.

You girdle a fresh rush of tears.. He should find someone who won’t lie to him, hide from him, betray him. Someone better than you.

It was naive of you to even pretend you could marry a man as wonderful as him.

The car halts in front of your parents’ house. 

The driver’s cheerful voice tugs you back to reality. 

“We’re here, miss.” he says. Astonishment draws a gasp from you. The drive flew by in a quick blur. Knee deep in the sea of your somber thoughts, you failed to notice you were approaching your childhood home. You fetch a bill inside your pocket but the man waves a dismissive hand at you. “Please, Miss Snow already took care of everything.” He gives a sympathetic smile. You wonder if he’s guessed anything or if he’s just picking up on the air of gloominess hovering around you. “Just take care of yourself, darlin’.”

Nodding, you mumble a quiet ‘thank you’. You exit the car and anxiously shuffle up the porch stairs. A warm breeze flutters through your chest at the sight of the familiar building. 

You’re finally home. 

Your gaze drifts to the garden. Surprise trickles inside you as you note that your roses are still thriving despite your absence. You wonder who you’ll have to thank for that. This batch has needed meticulous care ever since you planted the flowers. Neglecting them, even for a few days, could cause them to wither and perish.

Engulfed in contemplation, you’re startled when the front door abruptly opens.

You’re faced with Demetria’s bright smile and tearful gaze.

“Oh sweetie,” your mother exclaims, wrapping her arms around you.

You blink, taken aback by your mother’s sudden embrace. For a while, you’re unmoving, afloat in sheer disbelief. 

Then quiet words fall from your tongue.

“Hey, ma.” You relax a little, your eyes closing as you hug her back. You bask in the homey scent of Ma’s perfume, worry pulsing through you when you notice how much weight she has lost since the last time you saw her. Your mother’s hardly more than bones and flesh. You shiver. Perhaps, this wouldn’t have happened if you hadn’t been gone so long. You’d have ensured Ma takes good care of herself, that she eats and doesn’t sink in a well made of her own grief.

It’s what you used to do before your world fell apart. You failed your mother. Again.

You and Ma enter the house together. You bask in your surroundings, soaking in every detail. Tears almost spill, a surge of emotion mounting inside you, but you blink them away. You’ve wept enough, been scared enough. He cannot get to you here. You wish to enjoy the fact that you’re safe and sound without turning into a puddle of tears. 

Arm threaded with yours, Ma leads you to the sunroom. Colorful strips of sunlight pour from the stained glass, dousing the room in warmth. The two of you sit and, some moments later, tea and cakes are brought to the table. Your insides clutch as your eyes land on a spot on the couch. You and Coriolanus had so many conversations here. In that very same spot, he held you in his arms and listened to you as you spilled your heart out.

Your mother starts prattling on about the house and what Strabo’s been up to while you weren’t here. You’re a bit flabbergasted that she’s not questioning where you’ve been all this time, her tone airy and casual, but you don’t have the heart to interrupt. You’re just elated that you can be with her again.

When your father enters the sunroom, you nearly drop your cup. He makes his way to you, on the cusp of tears for the first time since you’ve known him. 

You melt in his arms when he hugs you. He cradles the back of your head like when you were little. The tears you held hostage before now roam freely down your cheeks.

“Dad,” you whisper, sniffling.

He holds you in his arms a long time before his embrace slackens. He gauges you, relief dawning on his features. He smiles. Warmth rushes to your chest. You haven’t seen your dad smile in a long time. He rubs your arms and says, “Sweetheart, We weren’t expecting you so soon.” He cups your cheek. You almost flinch at the loving touch. But then you remember. This is your father. He wouldn’t hurt you. You’re safe. “But it’s a really nice surprise.”

A watery laugh spills from your lips.

“What? But…But I’ve been gone for weeks.”

Strabo’s shoulders sag, sympathy oozing from his tone.

“Yes, but we know that…it was easier for you to stay with the Snows for a while, sweetheart. We understand.” Befuddlement wells up within you. You glance between your dad and your mother. The compassion written on their faces mirror each other. Your father pats your arm, aiming to reassure you as he adds, “Coriolanus explained everything in his letters.”

A sinking feeling grows in the pit of your stomach.

Your tremulous voice swells in the room, edging on a scream.

“What do you mean by everything, dad?”

“Sweetheart, we know. And we aren’t judging you. I promise you. Your mother and I have been young too and-”

“Can I see those letters?” you snap, dread flaring along your spine.

Strabo’s brows furrow in confusion.

“Well they’re in my study, but-”

You don’t let him finish, racing through the house and making a beeline for your father’s study. Your parents trail behind you, concern etched on their faces.

“Sweetie? What’s going on?” Ma calls.

You don’t look at them, busy rummaging through your father’s desk. Your frustration grows as you open and close every drawer.

“I need to see them. Now,” you absently reply.

“I think you need to-”

“Now, dad!”

“Alright, alright. Here.” Heaving out a weary sigh, your father strolls to a cabinet on the other side of the room. The frantic uproar of your heart fills your ears. Strabo flips through several folders before retrieving a stack of letters beneath a bunch of other files. He brings them to you and you snatch them from his hands, ignoring his shocked expression. 

“Are you okay, kiddo?” he murmurs. 

Your gaze falls on Coriolanus’ neat, precise handwriting. The ink blurs in your sight as you register his words, frantically flipping through the pages. Only bits and pieces sink into your mind as your eyes hop from one sentence to another. By the second, you grow more and more horrified.

Your daughter is safe with me, you have my word. 

Our feelings have grown too strong for us to pretend.

As the preparations for our wedding have taken much of our time…

She is terrified you will disown her but I will speak to her. 

…will return when she is ready.

…for however long it takes, do not worry.

…as she is too embarrassed to announce our love to the entire capitol.

Your daughter is well and misses you dearly.

I shall do everything in my power to keep her safe and happy, now and forever.

Safe and happy. Now and…forever?

Your heart sinks to your feet.

Your mouth wobbles as your eyes rise to meet your father’s.

“No, dad. I-I don’t think I am.”

The room starts dimming around you, your knees buckling as you struggle to keep yourself upright. Your father rushes to your side. 

Then all is darkness.

When your eyes quake open, you’re greeted by the comforting sight of your bedroom. The same plushies you’ve had since you were five sit on the shelves. Pictures of your family adorn the wall beneath fairy lights. Your wardrobe is against the wall at the exact same spot and so is the antique full length mirror you received on your fourteenth birthday. 

Everything’s exactly where it should be. And it drapes a balm on your wounded spirit. 

At least nothing about your bedroom has changed.

You never should have left those familiar walls,  succumbed to boyish smiles and honeyed lies. You should have stayed right here, drowning in your own tears and choking on your pain. It beats the hell you’re experiencing now.

Your mother strokes your cheek.

“You haven’t been eating,” she says.

You sit up in your bed.

“Neither have you, Ma,” you retaliate, your brows squeezing together as you scrutinize her.

She sends you a sad smile.

“We can eat together.”

You nod. “I’d like that.”

Your gaze travels outside your window, where you get a glimpse of the rose bushes, the blushing petals brighter than ever.

“Who took care of my roses?” you mumble without thinking.

“I did.”

Your mouth falls open. “But you hate gardening.”

Ma snorts, caressing your hair. “And you’d have been sad if they’d have died while you were gone.”

Your heart swells. Your mother hasn’t stepped foot in the garden once before. She harbors a disdain for any kind of manual labor since your family left District 2. You’re in awe that she still took it upon herself to care for the flowers because she knows how much it means to you.

“I've missed you, Ma,” you say, pulling her against you for a tight hug.

“I've missed you too,” she replies, rubbing your back. “You really gave us a scare, child.”

Her long exhale flows against your shoulder. “Like I said, we understand why you had to stay away. You and Coriolanus needed time together. I just wish you felt comfortable enough to tell Dad and I the truth.”

You freeze. You’re suddenly struck with the remembrance of what occurred before you passed out and landed in your bedroom. The letters. The ghastly, dreadful letters. Or rather Coriolanus’ dizzying tower of lies. It’s no wonder your parents didn’t seek you out.

He peddled a fairytale to them. One where you’re the princess and he’s the prince coming to your rescue. Star-crossed lovers thwarted by fate. Indignation sears through you. 

Your brows knit as you lean back.

“Ma, about Coriolanus-”

Your sentence is curtailed by a bashful knock on the door. Your mother urges whoever’s on the other side to enter. A maid appears, bowing in apology.

“Mr. William is here to see you, miss,” she announces.

Your heart skips a beat.

“Oh.”

Your fingers clench, your nails digging into your palm. It was bound to happen at some point or another.

Ma seizes your shoulder, her forehead scrunched in concern.

“Do you want me to come with you, sweetie?”

You shake your head. “No. I’ve hidden enough.” You give a feeble smile. Inwards, your heart is steadily shrinking. “I’ll talk to him. Alone.”

“Are you sure? Your father and I are here if you need anything.” Her frown accentuates. “You shouldn’t let anyone get in the way of your happiness.”

You shrivel at her words. How do you even tell her and Dad? Where to even start? And most importantly, how to do it in a way that wouldn’t break their hearts?

You’re aware of the void Coriolanus has filled for them since Sejanus’ passing. While he was a brother to you, he was a son to them. 

Your father’s taken him under his wing, funding his tuition and even teaching him about his business. Your mother’s grown fond of him, regularly inviting him to lunches and even baking for him sometimes.

The Plinths and Snows have become entwined, tangled as branches growing from the same tree. And you’ve let it happen, unaware your parents were allowing a viper into their home.

You want to come clean, deliver your full truth. But the fear of causing them more hurt stitches your lips shut.

Electing to set the matter aside to focus on the one currently before you, you drag your feet downstairs. You can figure out a way to talk to your parents later. 

Right now, there is one person that demands your full attention. 

You’re stunned to see him standing in the lobby. It’s been so long. A lifetime ago it seems. He’s as boyishly handsome as you remember him, dark curls framing his face and vibrant forest orbs sparkling with longing at the sight of you. 

“William,” you greet weakly.

He wastes no time in running to you and wrapping his arms around you. 

“Baby, I’ve missed you so much.” 

Nuzzling the crook of your neck, he takes a long minute to soak in your scent. Your chest twinges.

“William…”

He steps back from you, his gaze narrowed in suspicion.

“Something’s wrong,” he finally says.

“Maybe we should sit-”

“I’m fine standing up,” he counters. He lifts your chin. “Just talk to me.” Your lips squeeze as your pulse quickens. So many words sizzle your tongue yet none will burst forth. William scoffs in frustration. “I haven’t seen you in weeks. I’ve been going crazy thinking about what possible reasons you could have to stay in Coriolanus Snow’s house of all people. You owe me that at least.”

You give a slow nod.

“You’re right.” 

You swallow the lump in your throat before meeting his gaze.

“William, the truth is…I can’t be with you anymore.”

[a-dauntless-daffodil]

pre-chaggie and Vaggie getting confused (NOT jealous) over why Charlie bought a nice red hair ribbon (not jealous at the ribbon) and keeps carrying it around and touching it (which is fine-)

but then, never wears it?

if Charlie'd just had second thoughts that'd make sense, buyer's remorse or whatever- only Charlie keeps the ribbon on her nightstand and keeps grinning at it and picking it up to fiddle with, she once chased Razzle and Dazzle through the house when they snagged it for some reason

and that all would makes SENSE, if Charlie ever used it, or if it was some old memento thing.

It's not. Vaggie found it unpacking groceries one day and Charlie squeaked like a stepped on dog toy when she saw Vaggie pulling it out

the embarrassed squeak thing is why Vaggie hasn't asked Charlie about it before now

that and the fact that Charlie the chatterbox didn't instantly explain the ribbon in an adorable gush of words for Vaggie to sit back and soak in, like usually happens.... the only other things Charlie keeps quiet about are Important Stuff like her family or why she isn't living with them or visiting them or really has much contact with them At All

but with Vaggie's back wounds slowly healing up and the one eye thing getting more settled-

-tangent on Charlie reading in bed to Vaggie incoming, hold on

(vaggie skimming through charlie's books one day bc charlie likes reading aloud before going to sleep)

(and she tried doing it very quietly once they started sharing the bed)

(up until they figured ou vaggie sleeps BETTER if she drifts off listening to her)

(so now charlie keeps asking if vaggie has any requests)

(vaggie can't just say she's mostly in it for the sound of this woman's voice sooooo)

(she's looking for something to catch her- ha- EYE)

(of course it's a book cover with a pirate on it, of course it's bc of the eyepatch)

(of course it got shoved mostly out of sight bc charlie was worried it'd make vaggie feel bad)

(when vaggie drops it on the bed that night charlie faces a new worry)

(she can't help thinking about dashing swashbuckling pirate vaggie in dashing swashbuckling pirate get up that charlie never noticed was quite so dashing and hot before)

(of course she doodles it in the book margins that night)

(with vaggie slumped over her chest)

(vaggie finally asleep despite the backpain and headache, comfy and snuggled bc of her, charlie)

(vaggie breathing against charlie’s collar bone while charlie daydreams about getting rescued at sea by fierce but secretly soft hearted pirate lady that bears only a SLIGHT exact resemblance to vaggie-)

(of course charlie's so embarrassed she flings the book across the room)

(trying to remove the temptations she can since she clearly CAN’T remove the pretty lady who's using her like a pillow and risk waking vaggie up)

(annnnnd next morning neat and tidiness freak vaggie finds the thrown book)

(casually flips through to the parts she slept through last night as charlie watches is silent frozen horror)

(sees the doodle of her as a pirate)

(stares)

(wow actually she'd totally rock an eyepatch wouldn't she?)

(Which was charlie's cue to dig through her old dress up box for an eyepatch and leave it casually lying directly on vaggie's lap that night bc charlie was nervous and her aim was terrible and she meant to sneakily drop it on vaggie's nightstand but maybe missed just a liiiittle bit, or not, since vaggie tries it out, likes it a whole lot, and stops smoothing down the bangs on that side of her face every three seconds to make sure her missing eye is covered by them. Now the eyepatch does that for her.

(now she starts running her hand through her bangs in a more absentminded way, leaving them looking a bit wind tossed and a tiny bit rakish and FUCK charlie morningstar is in trouble....)

ah

but this was about the hair ribbon thing. Right.

so Vaggie's been healing up a lot in the last few months, time marked by the slow growing out of her hair and her increasing time spent fiddling with it, as much as she can anyway

in fact Vaggie’s hair has gotten so long that Charlie’s the one who’s brushing it for her, now.

long hair takes, well, longer to deal with and Vaggie just can’t hash all that time reaching up and around and doing the reparative motions that remind her scarred up shoulders of when they used to have wings beating there, the torn muscles and phantom pangs where other limbs should be

luckly Charlie LOVES messing with hair- (or says she does, not mentioning she’d love just about any excuse to spend time sitting close to Vaggie and touching her in some way) so it all works out fine

maybe too fine. Maybe Vaggie starts really REALLY being glad she decided to grow out her hair..

��and increasingly less glad, thinking about the day when she won’t need Charlie’s help with it anymore

that day is coming up pretty fast. Turns out even when the attacker is another angel, angels still heal up pretty well, especially with a nice demon lady to help

even sans normal depth perception and not yet great at compensating for it, Vaggie’s not banging into stuff so much anymore as she learns the layout of the house (and Charlie learns not to be so spontaneous with day-to-day furniture placement anymore), and lately Vaggie's had a lot less trouble just doing stuff in general. She can do her bends and stretches without grumbling about stiffness. Can reach down and pick up Razzle or Dazzle and carry them around without thinking twice about it (still doesn't notice Charlie's pointed comments on how they can totally fly just fine or the pouts Charlie throws at the lucky little demons whenever they snuggle more smugly into Vaggie's arms)

best of all- as far as Charlie is concerned Vaggie's not grimacing when she has to put on a shirt or jacket-

but she IS STILL SMILING when Charlie holds out said jacket to help her slip it on, especially when it's Charlie's jacket, especially the times when Charlie climbs out onto the roof in the middle of the night to find Vaggie and wrap her in said jacket after noticing her new cuddle buddy wasn't in their bed anymore which apparently was enough to wake Charlie up and.... ahem....

point is, Vaggie has fewer pain things to be distracted and exhausted by these days, and that damn ribbon mystery is starting to get to her

she doesn't wanna over step this ridiculous amount of hospitality Charlie's been showing her

(still internally struggling between the sickening thought that it Must Be A Trap and the million times worse physically painful idea that it's not, that someone like Charlie has been here in hell the whole time, and that Charlie's really been just THAT alone that she'd latch onto any stranger who let her help them and smiled at her about it)

Vaggie KNOWS there's a lot Charlie isn't saying yet about just how bad things have been for her, with the abandonment, the isolation, the grinding futility of not being able to change hell if hell isn't on board with it too and having to watch her home repeatedly set itself on fire (literally) when it's not being slaughtered (partly by Vaggie, until just recently)

Charlie not talking about something means Charlie doesn't want to talk about the thing, and Vaggie can respect that. She, Vaggie, gets it completely-

to a degree that's skirting the line of passively outright LYING by omission when she doesn't correct Charlie's guess about her being a moth-themed sinner demon, instead of the former murder angel she is, instead of telling Charlie who Charlie is actually letting stay in her home and sleep draped over her and neatening Charlie’s bowtie for her bc Charlie looks really good in it and Vaggie wants everyone to see that and also wants to remember how Charlie’s shoulder’s felt under her hands as she smoothed the lapels down at the end for good measure

ANYWAY

not talking about their shitty pasts can totally be their shared thing. That would be great actually.

but that ribbon. That fucking ribbon.

the way Charlie holds it and smiles at it fondly and PETS the damn thing sometimes. How she gets all dreamy eyed over it. That one time Vaggie heard her GIGGLE while pressing the pretty red thing to her chest

(that is vaggie's spot vaggie is the one whos snuggles over charlie's heartbeat every night-)

(She is NOT getting territorial over a fucking piece of cloth)

(she's got no right to)

(she probably won't be here much longer anyway, now she's healing up so well)

(she would be a lot smarter and safer if she got her crippled angel but out of there and vanished into the masses of hell, if she DIDN'T keep living with and lying to the actual literal legit princess of honestly to fucking hell. or sleeping in her BED)

(she keeps telling herself that)

(it's not working)

(she keeps thinking of charlie alone in the house again and feeling sick)

the giggle is too much though, and Vaggie does end up asking-

Vaggie: "Are you ever gonna wear it?"

Charlie: "Hm? Me wear what?"

Vaggie: "The." (points at ribbon) "That."

Charlie: "Oh THIS!?" (eeps) (hides ribbon behind back) "Oh no it's not for me! It's uh I mean, it's not really my kinda thing!"

Vaggie: "Not your thing? You always tie your hair back."

Charlie: "Yeeees, but not with ribbons!"

Vaggie: "It's red. Your favorite color."

Charlie: "Correction- Red USED to be my favorite color!"

Vaggie: "Really? Since when?"

Charlie: "Since, uh, since no time in particular...."

Vaggie: "So what's your new fav color-"

Charlie: "THE RIBBON'S NOT EVEN MINE, ACTUALLY! That's! What I meant!"

Vaggie: "But you bought it."

Charlie: "I can buy things for people who aren't me?"

Vaggie: "You keep it next to you while you sleep and won't stop picking it up and stroking it like it's a kitten or something."

Charlie: "Well, I just.... like checking! Checking that it's as nice as I thought it was!"

Vaggie: "Is it gonna be a gift or something?"

Charlie: "Yes YES that's EXACTLY what it is!!!"

Vaggie: "Didn't know someone's birthday was coming up."

Charlie: "Oh no it's more of a, a congratulations kinda gifty thing?"

Vaggie: "That's sweet." (dredges up a smile) "Give my congrats to them too, okay?"

Charlie: "Ah, um. But you don't even know what the congrations are for...?"

Vaggie: "Coming from me, it's for having someone who cares so much in their life."

Charlie: "Y- they have what? Who??"

Vaggie: (laughs) "You, sweetie."

Charlie: "I'm- I'm just giving a ribbon! It's just a ribbon!"

Vaggie: "You're putting a lot of care and thought into it, and thinking of them being happy about it is getting you all giggly.”

Charlie: “I giggled?”

Vaggie: “Yeah you did. If it were me, that wouldn't -just- be a ribbon, coming from you."

Charlie: "....."

Charlie: ".... OH SHIT I NEED TO GO TAKE THE LAUNDRY OUT OF THE DRYER THING!"

Vaggie: "It's out already. I'm folding it right now, with you."

Charlie: (already half out of the room) "TAKE OUT THAT’S A GREAT IDEA I'LL GO ORDER SOME!!"

Vaggie: "Your phone's right here though-"

Charlie: "I'LL GO ORDER IT IN PERSON!"

Vaggie: "Why-?"

Charlie: "FRESH AIR! SAVE THEM A WALK!!! I'll be right back- don't go anywhere okay!?"

Vaggie: "Okay..."

Charlie: (exits)

Charlie: (pokes her head back in) "Um."

Vaggie: "I'd kill for more of what we got last week."

Charlie: "Right! ON IT!" (flees)

Vaggie: (smiles) (goes back to laundry folding) (is curled up and using on of charlie's freshly folded shirts as a pillow when charlie gets back with the emergency take out)

Alright.

So Charlie might not be as alone as Vaggie assumed / feared.

That's a good thing. Right? Right.

She doesn't really need Vaggie.

(as soon as vaggie's as healed as she'll ever be, she won't need charlie either)

(she tries telling herself that)

(once)

(it doesn't work)

(she's not good at saying stuff- but she's absolute shit at lying)

To keep from thinking stupid things, Vaggie does what works best for clearing her mind- she moves. Lots of limbering up, lots of spear practice, lots of playing uppsie toss with little demons, a bit of dancing thrown it-

(yes okay sometimes it's with charlie and sometimes it's charlie grinning and strumming out a tune on her guitar she knows vaggie can't not dance to, bc she's been paying attention to the songs vaggie bobs her head to or hums along with, and look that's totally normal, and if dancing with or for charlie makes vaggie's heart beat way faster than that level of exercise normally should that's between her and no one else so shut up)

-she's getting stronger, is the point. She's getting back to where she used to be at,

and maybe it's a bit frustrating that just being able to reach up and grab something off the top shelf is SUCH a clear sign of recovery,

maybe she's frustrated with herself for a moment

angry at herself for the shock of cold dread as she realizes she didn't NEED Charlie and in all her lanky glory to get the thing down for her...

it’s almost time to stop pretending

she was never really needed here

but it's hard to focus on frustration or fear or self-loathing, when Charlie is letting out one of her happy yips and literally starts applauding

Charlie: "UNHOLY SHIT VAGGIE, you did it! You did it all by yourself!!”

Vaggie: (blinking back to the present moment)

Vaggie: “..Did what?”

Charlie: “You reached the middle shelf!!!"

Vaggie: "Oh, huh…” (looks up) “Uh excuse you that is the top shelf, sweetie."

Charlie: (laughing) "Whatever you say~"

Charlie: "Now wait RIGHT HERE okay?" (dashes out of kitchen) "Don't move!"

Vaggie: "...."

Charlie: (skids back in) "Okay I- Vaggie what!? Don't hold the pose like that! You're back will flare up- why didn't you put you arms down again???"

Vaggie: "You said don't move."

Charlie: "I meant! From the KITCHEN! Gah!"

Vaggie: (smirks) "It's fine, I do exercises like this anyway."

Charlie: "But not without warming up first- oh whatever. We'll deal with it later. Right now though..."

Charlie: (beams) (holds out ribbon)

Charlie: “Here!”

Vaggie: "....what am I supposed to do here, Charlie."

Charlie: "Take it! If you want to?

Vaggie: “That’s your ribbon.”

Charlie: “Nope! It's yours!"

Vaggie: "But.. didn't you get it as a gift for..."

Charlie: "For you. I got it for you."

Vaggie: "..."

Charlie: "... it's for, your hair?"

Vaggie: "My hair."

Charlie: "You've been growing it long and, taking care of it yourself when you couldn't hold your arms up wasn't really a thing- so I didn't want to give a present that reminded you of that, but also having long hair is so FUN you can do so MUCH with it-! Ribbons are great for messing around with and finding your own new styles and, um."

Charlie: "Y-you don't seem to HATE the color red? You like wearing my jacket just fine! I think? So I saw this, one day, and thought- wow! That would beautiful on Vaggie! Maybe she'd like it?"

Charlie: "So I got it, and then I couldn't give it yet, not until you could put it in yourself if you wanted to-"

Charlie: "And now you CAN! Or not?"

Charlie: "It's just been so great seeing you getting better, I, I just thought you should get something nice out of all this too- something new, something yours."

Charlie: "Like. A ribbon?"

Charlie: (gingerly holds out ribbon)

Vaggie: "...."

Vaggie: (gently takes ribbon) "I have no idea how to wear one."

Charlie: (breathes out) "Oh there's all sorts of ways! I can show you! You can experiment the FUCK out of them and see what you like!"

Vaggie: "Yeah?" (chuckles) (not making eye contract)

Charlie: "ANYTHING you like, Vaggie." (staring at her) (smiling soppily) "If the ribbon's not your thing, then anything else. More spears... tickets to one of the less-gory concerts, a motorbike-"

Vaggie: "A motorbike for a woman who keeps running into tables."

Charlie: "There's no traffic laws in hell! Or, I don't know, maybe-"

Charlie: (flinching) "Your own apartment? If you.. if you wanted that.. your own space could be nice, I bet. I’d miss you but you might like-"

Vaggie: "You're not buying me an apartment, Charlie."

Charlie: "I can if I want to! If YOU want me to?"

Vaggie: "I'd have to steal Razzle and Dazzle. Take them with me."

Charlie: (hand on chest) (mock outraged) "You'd steal MY childhood plushies turned demon bodyguards??? Not happening!"

Vaggie: "Then I guess I'm staying."

Charlie: "RIGHT! Yes. You are.” (softly) “You are.”

Vaggie: "You've bribed me with soft adorable demon cuddles."

Charlie: (not realizing vaggie means her) "The old Razzle Dazzle never fails. BUT I'm still waiting on an answer! We really need to celebrate."

Vaggie: "Celebrate my single handed conquest of the top shelf?"

Charlie: "Yes! The middle shelf."

Vaggie: "Top shelf."

Charlie: "Middle?"

Vaggie: "Top."

Charlie: "There's another shelf above it?"

Vaggie: "That the stupid extra shelf."

Charlie: (snorts) "We do NOT have an extra shelf, Vaggie."

Vaggie: "...."

(charlie said WE)

Vaggie: "...you know what I'd really like?"

Charlie: "What?" (leaning in) "Anything. Tell me."

Vaggie: (holds out ribbon)

Vaggie: "Help me put it on."

Charlie: "Put it on you, FOR you?"

Vaggie: "And maybe tie it in a cute bow or something."

Charlie: "But." (worried) "Is your back-?"

Vaggie: "My back's fine, sweetie. I don't need you to do this for me."

Vaggie: (finally looking up) (eye a little teary)

Vaggie: "I just want you to."

Charlie: (not breathing)

Charlie: ".....okay."

Charlie: (remembering to breathe) (blinking hard) (Beaming)

Charlie: "Anytime, Vaggie.”

It’s a promise.

It’s stupid how long it takes them to figure out they’re both single-brain cell in love with each other. But that’s fine, they can just be stupidly in love together for longer than that, to make up for it.

[bumblebeesfromvenus]

Highlands and Full Hearts 🌧

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ────── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

Highlander!Johnny "Soap" MacTavish x reader

《A/N》: First of all, THIS IS NOT HISTORICALLY ACCURATE!! This is fiction. I did do some research about the Great Kilt, but that's it. This is purely for fun! I highly suggest checking out Fandabi Dozi on YouTube. Even just to take a peak so you can get a better idea of what Johnny's wearing <3

《Content》: NSFW. proceed with caution. Cuddlefucking, unprotected PiV, nipple play, cockwarming. This is so silly and cute, and I love it, and I hope you will too!!

The ask is here!

《WC》: 3.5k

Please don't copy my work! I put a lot of heart and effort into the things I write.

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ────── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ────── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

It was as if the Gods were damning you, cursing you to a cold death as the sky opened up, breaking in two as heavy rain started pouring from it like currents in the mighty sea.

The wide open hills left trees to be desired to seek shelter from this flood. What you wouldn't do for the protection of a blanket of green hanging far above your head. The grass turned slippery and you had to watch your step so you wouldn't tumbled down into the nearest glen.

Johnny had you tucked close to his side, trying his best to cover you from the heaviest pour with his Plaid. The thick woolen fabric warmed you up despite the wetness as the two of you quickly made your way across the Highlands, hoping to find somewhere warm and dry to escape certain death.

His bonnet sat atop his head, the few wet curls that were peaking out of the hat sticking to his forehead. The white shirt he wore was clinging tightly to his chest, the soaked fabric accentuating his broad chest. The hem of your skirt was stained with green and brown hues of grass and mud.

Thankfully, Johnny's Great Kilt kept most of the water away from your torso, the water running down the wool in fat rivulets. Just as you were thanking the gods for his Plaid, you thanked yourself for insisting on the woolen socks that kept your feet warm and dry. You glanced over at Johnny, rain dripping from his brow as he rolled his shoulder with a grunt, the pack frame digging into his back.

"How far are we out? I swear we didn't stray from the path, did we?" You asked with uncertainty, your voice already muffled by the sound of the rain pounding on the ground.

"Jus' through this glen right there an' we should find some trees, at least." He gave you an encouraging smile while he, himself, had a twinkle of worry in his wonderfully blue eyes, something you'd never miss.

The only thing you could muster was a tight-lipped smile as all the worrisome thoughts knocked around in your head like a woodpecker on a strong oak.

Although his kilt and body heat were keeping you warm, you couldn't help but let your brows furrow in concern at his soaked shirt. He would surely catch his death like this, something you were too stubborn to let happen. Death would have to pry him from your grip before you'd let him go anywhere.

You ducked away from the shield that was his Plaid and tucked it across his chest.

"What are you doin'?" He asked, almost frantically, as he reached up to his shoulder to pull the fabric free.

The rain was now soaking your previously dry hair, the drops running down your neck.

"You'll catch your death! I'll be alright for now." You replied firmly, cupping his hand with yours and pulling it away from the Kilt to intertwine your fingers.

His lips parted slightly.

"Absolutely no'. I'm not lettin' ya get sick." Johnny argued, already fiddling with the corner of the Plaid that you had tucked away.

"Don't you argue with me! I'm not letting you get sick either." You stood your ground, more figuratively than literally as the soft mud was making you sink into the earth.

Johnny sighed, dropping his hand, the other never leaving the tight grasp of yours. Arguing now would be of no use, shelter was the priority right now.

He could scold you when you were dry and warm. You took a step, catching a particularly slippery patch of grass. With a yelp, you fell, terror tearing through your chest as you prepared yourself to tumble down the hill through wet mud and sharp rocks. Johnny, however, managed to catch your arm, making your fall end on your knees.

"Careful, mo leannan." He scolded softly, pulling you up from the ground and tucking you into his side with a tight grip around your shoulders.

"Thank you." You breathed, blood rushing in your ears, your ribcage suddenly feeling all too small for your rapidly beating heart.

He wordlessly pressed a kiss to your temple, urging you to fasten your pace. The wet grass and mud squelched beneath your feet as your hope for shelter dwindled by the second.

The water was starting to soak through your dress, making a shiver run visibly down your spine. From the corner of his eye, Johnny had caught the subtle movement and untucked his Plaid and wrapped it around your shoulders.

"Johnny-"

"No." He said sternly, keeping his eyes forward toward the horizon.

You kept quiet. The only thing now filing the silence between the two of you was the heavy rain, a sound both sending dread and a soothing feeling through you.

Trusting Johnny to keep you on your feet, you took the liberty of looking past the part of the Kilt shielding your view. His was still forward. You turned your head in all directions, hoping to spot a tree or maybe bush you might've missed.

Instead, a dark structure caught your eye. Your face lit up, no matter what you'd spotted, it would keep the rain from pounding against your skull.

"Look!" You exclaimed, pointing toward your discovery and eagerly pulling Johnny in its direction.

"Shelter at last." He sighed, breaking into a smile.

You hurried up the small hill, revealing the structure to be a small and lonely cabin built from wood and stone. You'd hoped that whoever lived in it wouldn't possess a cruel heart and let you and your lover warm up inside. If not, well, Johnny could be very persuasive.

You rasped your knuckles on the heavy wooden door, waiting for a response. When no response came, you tried calling out.

"Hello? Is anyone in there?"

Still, no reply. You looked at Johnny with furrowed brows. He had a thoughtful look on his features, as if pondering between decisions before he reached out a hand to get inside. Your eyes widened and grasped his arm.

"Johnny, no! We can't just go inside-"

"I'm sure they won't mind." He shrugged, pushing open the door and ushering you inside.

The complaint on your lips died quickly as you stepped into the dry room. A sigh of relief slipped past your lips when the door fell shut behind you and the rain wasn't pouring down on you anymore.

Your gaze flitted over the interior of the cabin. It was sparse, but enough to get you and Johnny through the night and until the rain stopped.

"Surely it's not abandoned.." you mumbled, walking around.

"A huntin' cabin, maybe?" He said, looking around himself.

There was a table with a pair of chairs and in the corner stood a bed with a strong wooden frame. The centerpiece of this humble abode, however, was the stone fireplace.

"No matter. Let's hope the owners won't come back until we can continue our way home."

Johnny took the pack frame off his back and set it down, stretching his arms with a groan.

"Jus' us for miles, Ah bet." You spotted a pile of firewood by the bed, carrying arm fulls to the fireplace.

"We need to start a fire. Need to dry off." You said, arranging the logs.

Johnny kneeled down beside you and pulled his flint stones from his pocket and started on getting a tiny spark into a raging flame. While he was working on the fire, you busied yourself with laying down the sheep skins Johnny kept rolled up on this pack frame near the fireplace.

You were already intruding in someone's home, you were drawing the line at sleeping in their bed, too. The flame crackled to life, making Johnny hum. Taking off his soaking bonnet, he shook his head, his wet hair making droplets of rain fly across the room.

You giggled, shielding yourself from them as he ran a hand through his tussled mohawk.

The next thing to come off was his soaked shirt which he draped over his pack frame to let it dry. He's never looked this handsome, in your eyes. The damp locks, his bare chest covered with a layer of hair, and his Plaid hanging from his waist. The earthy, brown, and green tones shone nicely against his skin.

You couldn't help but let your gaze linger on the trail of dark hair that peaked from his waistband. Johnny could feel your eyes bore into him, a faint smirking tugging at the corner of his mouth when he noticed how you hurriedly looked away, a blush sitting on your cheeks so prettily.

You laid down on the soft furs, letting the heat of the fire seep into your bones. Johnny slotted himself behind you, his chest pressed to your back as his arms wound themselves tightly around you. He nuzzled his face into your neck, the cold tip of his nose making goosebumps rise on your skin.

"Are you sure you're not cold?" You asked softly, twisting to look at him.

"Never been cozier, my love." He hummed, pressing kisses to your jaw and cheek.

You giggled and sighed at the sensation. The exhaustion that sat deep in your flesh started to catch up with you, a yawn escaping your lips as you settled deeper into the warm sheep skins. Johnny continued his kisses, trailing them down your neck and then up to your jaw again.

"Johnny... what are you doing?" You sighed sleepily, the feeling of his lips on your skin making you all warm and fuzzy inside. His hand slipped upwards, kneading one of your soft breasts through the thick fabric of your dress.

"Warming you up, bonnie.." he mumbled against your throat, his stubble scraping against your delicate skin deliciously. A soft moan fell from your lips. It all felt so good. His lips, his hands, the outline of his hard cock pressing into your rear.

"Oh, Johnny...."

"Tha's right, mo leannan, say ma name.." he whispered softly, slipping his hand over your stomach, down your legs and underneath your skirt, bunching the wool around your hips.

His breath against your neck had your breathing pick up and your eyes flutter shut. He dragged his calloused fingertips up the inside of your thigh all while gently rocking his hips against you.

A breath got stuck in your throat when he stroked over your slit, your legs falling open just for him. You were lost in bliss, a heavy cloud of euphoria fogging up your mind as he continued to circle your clit and swipe his fingers through your folds, getting you nice and wet for him.

Your pert nipples poked through your dress, a sight Johnny couldn't resist. He snuck his second arm underneath you and pinched and tugged at your buds until you were coating his fingers in your slick.

"An absolute sight you are..." he spoke lowly, a breathless strain in his tone.

"Please, I need you, please.." you begged, mewling when he tugged his cock out from under his Plaid and rested it between your thighs, snuggly sat on your slick cunt.

"I'll give you whatever ya want, you know tha'." Johnny breathed, a groan ripping from his throat when he rocked his hips against you.

"Don't... do that.. I need.. I need.." you whined breathlessly, your words getting cut off by a moan as he pushed inside of you.

The ecstasy that flooded your veins was already making you melt into his arms, but when he reached between your legs to rub at your clit, you were putty in his hands. You were reduced to a mewling, moaning mess as he thrusted into your sweet cunt so deep yet softly, reaching parts of yourself you never knew existed.

"Ah know wha' you need.." he whispered against your temple, so sweetly, in fact, it made your head spin. You fit like puzzle pieces, made for each other. A choked moan escaped Johnny as he slid in to the hilt, pulling you impossibly closer. He pulled his hips back only to fit them snuggly against yours again in one smooth stroke.

Johnny quickly set a satisfying pace, fucking into you so nicely your eyes were rolling to the back of your head. The furs were soft against the exposed skin of your thigh and the popping fire started to fill the cabin with warmth.

The praises he cooed into your ear were a jumbled mess, not only from his pleasure but you were too far gone to think about what he was saying to you.

He held you close to his chest, grasping you so tightly as if you were to disappear the second he'd let go.

"Ah love you, my bonnie lass. Love you s'much." He muttered into your ear, the stutter in the movement of his hips indicating he was close.

But so were you, with him filing you so perfectly and his fingers rubbing over your clit.

"O-Oh, Gods... feels s'good.." you babbled mindlessly, sharp breaths and moans falling from your lips at the delicious drag of his cock against the warm walls of your cunt.

He was panting heavily into your ear, a few groans and moans making it into the mix, while he continued to snap his hips against your supple ass.

"Johnny, please..!" you cried out, every muscle in your body tensing up as that buzzing feeling of bliss gnawed at your bones, slowly working its way up to the crown of your head.

"C'mon, ma beauty, let go f'me.." he heaved, his lips attaching themselves to your neck once again.

A cry of pleasure ripped from your throat, his fingers swiping over your clit making you topple over the edge. You clenched down on him, going lax in his arms when he reached his end as well, a few more thrust making him spill inside of you with a groan.

A fuzzy feeling crawled up your spine, a dazed smile on your face as you pulled his arms around you even tighter. You laid in pleasant silence as your breath evened and the exhaustion of the say really started to set in. With a twist of your head you looked at Johnny with a soft smile.

"I love you too." You said quietly, watching how his eyes filled with warmth.

"Ah know, my love. Don't need tae say it. Ah can feel it." He mumbled until your skin, sighing as he finally settled in, ready to rest his body to prepare for the last part of the trek. Hopefully the rain would give the two of you a break, even just enough to get into town dry and warm.

The harsh fall of water softened during the night, leaving you with the sounds of Johnny's breathing, the crackling fire and the vast Highlands, stretching on for miles.

.·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·.

The next morning, you were up and about as soon as the sun peaked behind the horizon. The rain had subsided, and you'd use every opportunity to not get drenched again.

Everything was packed up quickly and the pack frame was hoisted onto Johnny's back once again as you left the little cabin just as neat as you'd found it.

Although the sun had decided to hide behind the clouds, there was no downpour. Only a gentle breeze that combed through the heather on the hills.

The green and purple swayed in the wind, painting a beautiful scene before you. Hand in hand, you made your through hill and glen, past trickling streams and past spots of trees huddled together.

While Johnny was busy keeping the both of you on track and occasionally admiring landscape, you were spending your time looking at him.

You wanted to etch his profile into every mountain face so the world may see what you fell in love with.

Those blue eyes that lit up whenever he smiled but had no problem becoming cold and piercing if the moment called for it.

Those lips of which you dreamed whenever you went to sleep, the feeling of them always lingering on your skin.

That voice that you could spend listening to until the world came to its end. Even if Johnny babbled and talked about things that made no sense to you, you'd always listen.

Those strong arms that could hold and protect you all at once. He'd carry you across the world if you'd ask.

You could list things about him until dusk. Until poets ran out of words. Until you'd both lay on your deathbed, ready to cross into the next realm together.

"You're starin', love." Johnny pointed out, pulling you out of your thoughts.

"I'd call it admiring, really." You quipped back, a smile on your face.

A smirk tugged at his lips.

"Oh, and what're you admirin', mo leannan?" He asked teasingly, taking his eyes off the path for the first time in hours. Johnny didn't want to admit it, but his heart leaped every time he saw you.

No matter how many times he'd seen you before, or how you'd never changed, your beauty would never fail to knock the wind out of his lungs.

"You." You hummed in response.

He nodded thoughtfully, trying to hide a bright smile.

"And why, might Ah ask?" He was teasing, a grin on his face.

He expected a compliment, how you liked his eyes, or the shape of his nose or his broad chest. And while all of that was true, the words that left you caught him off guard.

You gently stopped him, standing atop a hill, spotting the local tavern that was just out of town. Your hand went to cup his cheek, caressing his cheekbone.

"Because I'm utterly in love with you."

His jaw slacked. He knew that you loved him, of course he did, but this was the first time you'd said something like this. And what he wouldn't give to have you say it again and again. He'd never get sick of it.

Johnny cupped your hand, keeping it pressed against his cheek while his other pulled you in by your waist.

The baffled expression was quickly replaced with a soft smile and eyes that were looking at you with so much love and devotion even the sweetest honey would taste bitter in comparison.

"As am I." He spoke softly, connecting your lips in a kiss full of passion and adoration.

Caught up in your feelings, you'd failed to notice how thick clouds darkened the sky. In a change of fate, it started pouring once more, leaving you and Johnny without cover and in the middle of a kiss that could be written in a fairytale.

As the first drops fell down on you, your brows furrowed and you let out a sound of disapproval against his lips. Johnny chuckled, keeping you firmly in place when you tried to pull away.

"We need to get to that tavern-"

"Let's enjoy this, yeah?" He spoke softly, chasing your lips once again.

The rain was pounding down on you but how could you ever care about that when Johnny was kissing your breath away. You were held firmly in his embrace, melting into the kiss as water droplets were running down your face, the rain drenching you to the bone.

There was nowhere you'd rather be at this moment. The rain and wind were making you uncomfortable, shivers running through you, but the warmth Johnny ignited in your heart was enough to keep you warm for centuries. You pulled away, breathless, smiling at him.

"Come on!" You giggled, pulling him by the hands to follow you as you ran down the hill.

He had to hold onto his bonnet so it wouldn't go flying with the amount of force you'd tugged at him.

Between the heavy rain, only your pounding footsteps, along with giggled and laughter, was heard as you rushed down the slope, hand in hand.

"Slow down, will ya?" Johnny laughed, almost tripping and landing face first in the mud.

It was scene straight from a book. Two lovers running free, not even the worst storms being able to stop them.

The mud and wet grass made you stumble more than once, but the sheer happiness of such a special moment made the dirt caking your dress and the water running down the back of your neck a worthy sacrifice.

When you reached the bottom of the hill, Johnny slowed the both of you down and wrapped his arms around your middle. You were hoisted up, a noise of surprise falling from your lips, as he spun you around.

You pressed your lips to his in a giggly kiss while Johnny set you back down.

"Ah truly love you more than ya could ever know, my love." He said softly, rubbing his thumb over your wet cheek.

"I love you too. I know I've said it a million times, but I can't stop." You chuckled softly, earning yourself another soft kiss from Johnny before he finally pulled you into the tavern.

The evening was spent wrapped in blankets, an ale in hand while you sat in your favorite little corner. Music was playing and people were dancing, but you were content right here.

Next to Johnny, your head on his shoulder, gently nodding off so you could dream of him and wake up tomorrow, just to do it all over again.

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ────── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

What do we think of Highlander!Johnny? 👀

More of my work -> 💫

We're gonna ignore the typos.... pls

[swallowtail-lotus]

🔱Secret Lullaby {Poseidon x Goddess!Reader}🔱

Repost of my original post from my old blog.

God, just looking at him makes me want to kiss him 😍

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

You sat in the middle of your greenhouse, patting a small bunny that hopped in your lap. You watched the past few rounds of ragnarok with sad eyes, feeling dread inside.

Being the God/Goddess of peace wasn't easy.

You love humans and everything on Earth, as it is your home. Before you went to Valhalla, you used to live in a forest where no human dared to set foot in unless If they wanted a death wish.

Of course, you never brought harm to humans but you eventually left after Zeus found you and offered you to live with the gods.

Being the secretive being you are, you agreed but only if no deity disturbs you when you wanted to be left alone and to never let them know of your secret place.

So far, no God or Goddess has ever found your greenhouse. Even if they bothered to try, they couldn't find it. This was due to one of your masking spells, which was more effective to deities compared to the humans.

Thinking back on how the gods have tried to get answers out of you, but failed due to your ability to slip away fast enough. Those thoughts escalated to your past, where you were once filled with joy.

With your mother, who had lost her life to another God.

"I miss you, mother. So very much."

You thought, wiping away tears that slowly trickled down your face. You looked down at the bunny, who looked up and sat up. It leaned against your chest, trying to lean its face towards yours. You lifted the small bunny up and felt its face nuzzle yours, an attempt to cheer you up.

"Ah, thank you. I feel better now."

You cooed softly, patting its head with a sad smile. You felt something nudge your leg, something hard. You leaned forward to see a small harp near your right foot and a grey bunny pushing it towards your foot.

You held your hand over the harp, watching it levitate towards your hand. The grey bunny hopped on your right leg, nuzzling your waist while the white bunny copied the grey bunny.

"Such cuties."

You mumbled softly, watching them get comfortable on your lap and stopped to lay down. Your fingers hovered over the strings of your harp, slightly shaking from the sadness building up.

"Hope you're hearing this, mother..."

You muttered under your breath, strumming your harp slowly. Closing your eyes, you let yourself drown in the melodic music from your strumming. You opened your lips to sing quietly.

Soon, the animals in your greenhouse started to gather around, watching and listening to your voice. Then, the plants started swaying slowly to the music. At the end of the lullaby, a voice brought you out of your thoughts.

"What are you doing?"

Your eyes shot open at the sudden voice, growing wider when you saw who it was.

It was none other than Poseidon, the Sea God himself.

You stared at the God before you, internally panicking, mainly about how he knew of your greenhouse. You placed the harp down nervously, fiddling with your fingers.

"I-I was just playing a lullaby. Umm, how did you find my greenhouse?"

You squeaked out, feeling yourself shrink smaller when the God took a few steps forward, not too close to you.

"... It wasn't hard to follow you. I've known for a long time."

He answered, his emotionless face along with his voice sending chills down your spine. You knew very well he never speaks much to any being, even to his brothers. So him speaking to you now of all times baffled you. Truth be told, he has spoke to you more times than anyone else. But hearing him ask about your main hobby was strange.

The reason behind that was most likely because you were a Ruler, the Ruler of Nature.

"So you have. Never expected less from you, of course."

You spoke, gripping your clothes so tightly. Poseidon raised his eyebrows slightly, his shoulders dropping.

"....."

He kept silent, staring down at you with his dull eyes. Your head was down, but you knew he was staring. The sound of his boots clicking away got your attention. You held the bunnies close to you, standing up from your seat.

"See you, Lord Poseidon."

You whispered. Poseidon stopped at the entrance of your greenhouse, giving you the side eye glance.

".... Goodbye."

Those was the last words he let out before leaving. You stood in silence, a confused look on your face.

"What just happened?"