#a celestial swirl that lights up the night

[dreaisgrayte]

Moonlit Monsters | Muzan x FEM!reader

SYNOPSIS: Reader is having a nice night time dip in the lake not too far from her village, when a mysterious man appears on the shore (omg it's like that one story in the Bible) anyway- the man stakes claim to the shadowy heart of reader.

CONTAINS: smut, female naked, one mention of a boner, claws, teeth, blood kink, oral sex (fem!receiving), kissing, a bit of wounding, outdoor sex (almost?), dirty talk

WORD COUNT: 1.6k

A/N: A little drabble I just had to get out of my system. I'll have a lot of free time coming up so I'm trying to get some of the shorter ideas I've had out of the way so I can crank out those longer fics. I hope you enjoy!

Moonbeams create a sky of their own on the water’s surface—the liquid forms around your naked body, welcoming you into the environment with ripples from your movement. There was a strong waterfall about 20 feet from your current spot in the lake creating small waves that would lap at the shore. The waterfall, a celestial cascade of liquid silver, descends gracefully from the heights above, its sound a lullaby that resonates through the night. The surrounding nature seems to hold its breath as if joining the observer in silent admiration of the nocturnal spectacle. Trees guarded this oasis with ancient splendor. You felt safe. That was until you heard the foliage rustle behind you. 

“You’re quite a pretty thing.” A smooth voice sneers. Your brows knit together as you turn in the water. There’s a figure leaning against one of the trees – face shaded by the lack of light. 

“I’m afraid this lake is already taken.” You call to the shore. You can’t see, but you swear their lips lift in a devious grin. 

They shift forward, still within the shadows. “And here I was hoping you’d invite me in.” The voice is deep, deeper than a woman's. You’d assume this was a man leering at you – like they usually did – but there was something off about this one. He carried himself in a way that made you think twice about crossing him. “What’da you say, Nightshine?”

A nickname, already? He moved quickly. “What if you’re dangerous?” An elegant laugh rumbles out of the man. His next move is at the speed of light as he almost teleports behind you. A chill runs through your body as his hands grip your shoulders. Claws dig into the tender skin, pricking blood. They also prick a low desire in the core of your stomach. 

“There is no if, my sweet, but you already knew that.” He purrs into the shell of your ear. Your body fills with heat at the way his hot breath makes your nipples stiffen. The prospect of what he was about to do excited you in a way that probably should be looked at by the village healer, but that was if you lived past this evening. 

“What do you plan on doing to me?” You question, stupidly, perhaps. A delighted hum vibrates from him, his fingers trailing down your arms. 

“I’m feeling a bit peckish after my last meal. I think you’ll be a delicious dessert.” The point of his sharp fingernails traces a swirling pattern on your collarbone. Without a moment's hesitation, the span of his hand wraps around the base of your throat, pushing your head to where it was resting on his shoulder. You could almost make out the shape of his face before thick curly locks fell in front of his face. You don’t miss the glint of pointed teeth in his lecherous grin. You notice he smells like the city, with aromas of food and women imprinted on the clothes he wears. There was a secondary scent, one that was pungent enough to make your nose crinkle. It was coppery and meaty, it didn’t mix with the first smells. The latter felt like part of him as if he carried the waft of blood on his body. 

His nose drags up the length of your jugular, stopping when he meets your ear lobe – licking the spot with hunger you could feel radiate off of him. His hand on your throat squeezes tighter as he slips it under your jaw. As he turns your head to face him he covers your eyes with his free hand. Your senses felt like they were on fire, everything making your ears perk up. “If your eyes meet mine,” He pauses, hot breath spreading over your exposed face. He must’ve moved closer to you. You can almost feel his proximity with the slight movement of his lips. “I will snap this pretty neck of yours.”

Soft, feverous lips meet yours. Feasting on the moan that escapes your mouth as his hand slides to the back of your neck, keeping you pressed to him. “Fuck you taste divine.” He growls, clamping down on your hair. Your yelp cracks into a gaspy moan as he bends his head to suck on the junction of your shoulder. The creatures of the night had always enticed you, even as a young girl you explored the forest in hopes the shadows the chief warned you about would appear. 

When he was kissing you this man tasted like fresh blood. A fact that should’ve made you run, but something told you that you wouldn’t make it very far. In the meantime he’d made his way down your body, scraping a claw down your abdomen. It stung with an exhilarating pain, making you press your thighs together. He clicks his tongue, pressing the muscle to the wound he’d created and licking up the blood that spilled from it. A whiney moan tumbles into the open when he takes your stiff nipple into his mouth, swirling his tongue around it with dexterity that even the warriors of your village would be envious. 

“M-more I need more,” You pant out, reaching down to grip his cheeks. They’re soft, and sunken in as he sucks on your hard peaks. A chuckle vibrates his mouth and the sensation makes you nearly scream. 

He lets go of your breast with a loud pop that echoes around the lake valley. His mouth is on yours, feeding you that same taste as before. It makes your knees weaken to the point he wraps an arm around your back, supporting you against his own body. He breaks from the kiss, the shadows only allowing you to see his mouth which turns up in a smirk. “I thought I was the hungry one, but it turns out you were ready to feast on me my little siren.” 

A warmth spreads over your body, your gaze falling to the reflective water you both stand in. “Who are you?” You find yourself asking, expecting the man to not respond. There’s a long pause before he wraps his massive hands under your thighs, pushing lightly so you’ll allow him to pick you up. He brings you around his waist, the hard planes of his chest exposed from where his clothing had parted slightly. 

“The monster your mother warned you about.” He responds, splashing through the water, toward the shore. Your heart pounds in your chest and chills run up your exposed back as the water drips to the ground. 

“I was hoping you’d say that.” You whisper, finding your back aggressively pressed into the trunk of a tree. 

“Is that so?” He chuckles, kissing at your neck. You try to bite back the moans, but he nips at the splotchy skin he left from earlier, eliciting a garbled whine from your lips. 

“Oh heavens,” You cry out, gripping his shoulders. Another laugh, this one more devious than the last graces your ears. 

“No my sweet, the things I’m about to do to you will not be heavenly.” He huffs, lowering your body slightly to where you can feel something hard press into the apex of your thighs. 

“Then stop talking and take me already,” Exasperated from his teasing tongue your mouth turns down in a frown. 

He pulls you away from the tree, slamming you rather roughly into a large boulder near the shoreline. The wind is knocked out of you with his action. He slides you upon the boulder, grasping at the plush skin of your thighs. “Hold on darling.” He mumbles and before you have much time to regain any form of thought his tongue plunges into the place no one else has ever touched. A scream of pleasure rolls from your throat, the movement against the sensitive bud making you squirm. It felt so good like you were becoming a piece of glass about to explode. 

“Ngh–yes, oh my – f’eels so good.” Garbled nonsense sputters from your mouth as the man works the folds of your wet cunt like a master. A moan shakes from his throat, sending shockwaves through your nerves. 

“P-please, h–ugh–harder.” He listens well, sliding one of his clawed fingers into your throbbing pussy. You squirm from the intense amount of pleasure. With just one finger it felt like he was stretching you out, but through the slight sting, your walls still clenched around his finger. “That feels so good, ha,”

His lips wrap around your clit, sucking on it while he moved his finger slowly in and out of you. You start to shake, an overwhelming feeling radiating through your entire being. Just as you feel the crest of whatever sensation that was he releases your abused clit, grinning up from between your legs. “Such a good girl,” He hisses, but a wash of realization crashes any pleasure you once felt as his red irises stare back at you. Illuminated in the moonlight a short gasp escapes your lips. You want to explain, it was an accident of course, but if the last thing you got to see was his eyes, you could die happy. His eyes glow with an ethereal gleam, his free hand clawing into your outer thigh. You let out a small cry as blood rushes forth. He lifts your leg, turning the axis of your hips to reveal the gash of flesh he tore into. He brings his teeth to the surface, sinking into the tender skin. You hiss in pain but the calming stare of his eyes brings you to a sense of euphoria. His tongue dances around, lapping up the copper liquid with appreciation. 

He lifts from your bloodied thigh, red painting his mouth as he smirks at you. “You are mine, little siren, you belong to me. You belong to the Demon King.”

[onyourowndaisymae]

when lucifer falls in love

content + warnings: minor s1 of og! game spoilers, discussions of death, nightmares, hurt/comfort, lucifer's regretting the past again // [masterlist]

word count: ~1.2k

it’s the dead of the devildom night. not a single creature dares to stir in the house of lamentation, to interrupt the heavy darkness that lays claim to the kingdom like a siege, like a thick blanket over a fragile child. the night is oppressive at this hour. hell freezes over each night– sizzling temperatures plummet to biting cold, a violent swing that dares all to be prepared for any weather. 

it starts as uncharacteristic shuffles. tossing and turning at an hour he should usually be asleep, shifting from one side to another without waking. sweat peppers his hairline. his fingers twitch once, twice, eyelids fluttering restlessly. something’s going wrong. where there should be peace, there’s chaos, his dreams infested with something dark and unpleasant. 

lucifer morningstar wakes violently with a nightmare. 

his body jerks in panic, rising to a seated position before he can even fathom what’s going on. adrenaline floods his veins. fear grips him hard, and his labored breathing is the only sound that fills his senses for several long moments. 

memories swirl together at the top of his consciousness, a glossy oil slick of tangible emotion and thought. 

the great celestial war. bloodshed. the violent division of his family, of heaven itself, at the folly of his own pride. he can feel lilith’s body limp in his arms, chest rising with strained effort, her own blood soiling the angelic robes she once wore. she was beautiful. so innocent and pure. her only folly was falling victim to a love that should have never existed. a love he should have stopped earlier on, should have reigned in before things continued to deteriorate. his fault. it’s his fault that everything went down the way it did. 

the sound of your breathing finally catches his attention when his own begins to steady out. you’re fast asleep next to him– it’s a nice indication that he was able to hold in the cry that burned his throat as to not disturb your peaceful slumber. humans need their rest, after all. 

lucifer slips from his spot in his bed next to you. the bed shifts silently like a willing accomplice, letting his exit go unnoticed. a quick glance over his shoulder– you’re still unconscious, blissfully unaware of his departure– and he stumbles out into his office. 

he flicks his wrist haphazardly and the fireplace sparks to life. tired feet carry him to a nearby chair and he slumps, defeated into the cushions. 

in the dead of night, when he’s alone, his mind wanders to his mistakes. some nights, like tonight, they creep into his dreams– regret, uncertainty, moments of tranquility ruined by the stormcloud of war creeping into the foreground. was he wrong to fight against his Father? did his pride, his actions– have his siblings all been damned in ways they wouldn’t have had he discouraged them from following him? if he had stopped lilith from falling in love with that human in the first place, would his brothers be happier? would lilith still be alive?

that’s the thing about hindsight. he doesn’t know what the best decision was. in another life, maybe lilith lived– but he’ll never know. 

“lucifer?”

his name is garbled and groggy as it falls from your lips. he’s surprised to see you in the doorway– were you not asleep just a few minutes ago?

“yes, my love?”

“what are you doing up? i–” a yawn interrupts you, and you shift on your feet uncomfortably. “-- i missed you.”

an awkward lump settles in his throat. he didn’t realize that you’d noticed his absence. your expression shifts from exhaustion to concern, rubbing your eyes with your fingertips to adjust to the light. 

“i– couldn’t sleep.” he rasps the lie with ease. he doesn’t have the willpower to explain what was really going through his mind.

your bare feet pad quietly across the hardwood floors, steady and lethargic, as you make your way to his side. he watches each step carefully. you still next to him and press a soft, warm kiss to his forehead. 

you’re sweet. that’s the first thing he thinks when your lips find his skin, now tacky from cooling sweat as he reels in his own panic. it’s hard to be so upset when he’s next to you. your hands find the sides of his face and cradle him oh-so-delicately, like too rough a touch will make him scurry off into the darkness. 

“do you want to talk about it?”

he shakes his head. 

“alright,” you murmur, kissing the top of his head and taking a step back. your fingers linger on the side of his face a moment longer before they fall to your sides. “just– don’t stay up too late, alright?”

he nods, watching you shuffle off to the bedroom once again. his heart beats rapidly in his chest from the lingering panic, but it starts to calm as his thoughts wander to you. 

when did disdain become affection? when did suspicious looks turn into forehead kisses? lucifer couldn’t remember a turning point when you became so important to him– it was a slow march with his eyes closed, blind to the storm raging inside of him until push came to shove and his lips met yours. 

now you spend your nights in his bed. he can hardly lull himself to sleep when you’re not there. funny how things change. 

when the panic finally settles, he creeps back into his bedroom. the rhythmic lull of your breathing reassures him. there is no danger here. no death, no war, no mistakes. only you. 

his movements are hesitant as he crawls back in bed. it’s an attempt not to wake you– a failed one. you immediately reach for him in a state of half-consciousness, tucking yourself into his chest as he settles back in his original spot. your hands are smooth against his broad chest, lazily brushing across the skin before winding around him. 

“i got you, luci.”

four little words. barely audible amongst the shuffling of changing positions, but enough to make his heart pound against his ribcage. four little words conveying the depths of the care you have for the demon in your arms. 

oh, how lucifer morningstar loves you so. 

in the darkness of his bedroom, the flush of his cheeks does not announce its presence– yet it’s there, warm and fuzzy like the feeling in his chest, reminding the avatar of pride that he is nothing more than a man. a simple man. he loves his family and his home, the life he lives. and you. by god, he loves you so much that it makes his breath catch in his throat and his fingers tremble against your back. his arms wind around you to return the affection in any way he can. 

he’ll wait to tell you he loves you another day– soon, surely, so he won’t have to carry this burden for long– when he can muster up all the romance and passion you deserve. would dinner be a more appropriate place, or would that be seen as too gaudy? maybe he’ll find a time at him, when the two of you are alone in each other’s arms again. lucifer will iron out the details with time. 

sleep comes for him rather quickly. somewhere in your arms his mind is finally laid to rest, and he drifts off to sleep with the quiet comfort of knowing tomorrow will be a better day.

the nightmares do not return again tonight.

taglist for this series: @deepseafragments // @darkflowerav // @annoying-and-upset // @katerinaval // @lurkingsnails // @chirikoheina // @all-mights-wife // @notareum // @ollieoven

[manicrouge]

An Ode to Serelia

[𝟷𝟾+, 𝙼𝙳𝙽𝙸] || Part Two

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

[𝙳𝚊𝚝𝚎 𝙿𝚘𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚍]: 01/01/24

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

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

[𝚆𝚘𝚛𝚍 𝙲𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚝]: 23.7k

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

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

HAVE FUN!!

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

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

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

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

'Even if we hurt them?'

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Then, you hear voices.

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

'I found one papa!'

Shifting, you turn your head towards the surface.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Serelia.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Her hand disappears.

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

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

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

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

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

In the light of Luna, you recall her face.

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

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

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

Not even their dastardly golden coins.

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

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

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

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

The current grows displeased.

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

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

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

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

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

＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚ ☾ ˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

'Sirens?'

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

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

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

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

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

The footsteps stop.

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

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

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

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

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

'Bloody lunatics.'

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

'Fucks sake, Johnny, what—'

'Siren,' he says quietly.

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

Sirens? Is he fucking stupid?

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

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

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

'Still on the beach.'

'The beach?'

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

'Monsters you are! Let me go!'

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

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

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

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

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

Something is watching them, yet no one sees it.

'No!'

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

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

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

Finally, she's unveiled to him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

'We'll take it from here. '

＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚ ☾ ˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

You awake with a brittle moan.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Your eyes grow heavy.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

There's silence.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Is that real?

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

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

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

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

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

Your mind is racing trying to piece together a narrative.

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

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

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

'Help you?' mutters the one with a strange haircut. 'How'd she do that, lass?'

'I- I was stuck,' you say, 'I couldn't get out an' she tried to, uh, pull me out,' you explain, 'but she got hurt- it might not even be the same one but... there was one, a good one,' you explain, gulping hard as the masked man standing beside the man with his hand on your shoulder shifts on his feet, his eyes burning into your flesh, the sunken eyes behind the skill mask leaving goosebumps on your flesh.

He's harsher than last nights current.

Keeping your eyes trained on the man, you observe him as he peers down at you, his built frame making you feel small. Most definitely, you do not want to get on his bad side; he could probably crush you with one hand.

'Couldn't have been the same mermaid,' he answers, his tone causing your chest to almost rattle, 'took an entire night for you to even wash up here, you wouldn't have survived if it was her,' he notes, the others around you shaking their heads in a collective agreement.

Your heartbeat is pounding in your ears, you feel blood coursing through your veins as you look up at him with teary eyes.

Your bottom lip protrudes as water begins to pour from your eyes. It's unlike anything you've ever felt, and, despite your burning eyes, you find the sensation oddly relieving.

You throat grows tight as you sharply inhale, allowing the cup to rest against the covers as you press the tips of your fingers into your cheeks.

A hiccup escapes your lips as your mouth trembles, all the misery of being lost and having lost escaping you in a cathartic sob that causes your entire body to shake.

'I- I don't know where I am, I- I'm scared,' you confess as more water clings to your eyelashes in little droplets, clinging on, only for their grip to fall loose as you blink, releasing more fresh streams onto your flesh.

Releasing a hand off of your shoulder, the man stationed beside you looks to the man who has his hand on you knee, 'you think you can go and get her some clothes? Poor things on show for the entire village to see,' he says. The man purses his lips for a moment, 'she's gotta have something that she doesn't want.'

'Has so many fuckin' dresses she won't even notice one has gone missing,' he says, standing up from off of the bed, 'I'll go and try and find something, as long as I don't take her cyan one I don't think she'll be too bothered,' he shrugs, 'keep an eye on her for me, won't you?' he asks, looking at the three.

The man with the peculiar haircut places his hand against his shoulder, patting it, 'she's in the best hands of the entire village,' he reassures, 'go an' find the lass some clothes, Gaz, we'll kep 'er safe,' he promises.

Gaz. What an odd name.

The rest of their conversation is lost on you as you're far too caught up in the tightness in your chest and the sounds of the screams you heard on the beach the night before to even think about anything else.

Only, when the door shuts, you startle at the sound of the slam, snapping your head up.

'MacTavish, I need you on patrol today,' says the brown-haired man. The disappointment on his face is notable as his eyebrows curl, 'everyone's on edge with the entire mermaid incident, the last thing I need I people trying to cause more trouble or almost drownin' going to find one of their own,' he says, 'speaking 'f which, need to go and check on her myself, make sure the head wound isn't goin' green,' he huffs, turning to the masked man standing behind him. 'Keep an eye out on her,' he states, turning his attention back to you.

Inwardly, you breathe a sigh of relief, allowing yourself to bathe in your emotion as you come to terms with the fact that she's alive.

Your eyes meet with his, your heart burning at the sight of pity burning in his gaze.

If things were any different, you very well would have wiped the soft smile off of his face, but you look at your options and his uniform, likening it to one your mother had described to you in the past.

'They like to think they have control, dress up in clothes just to make the isolation of their species more capable,' she explained while sitting in upon one a rock. You accompanied her, looking at her. She had such knowledge of the world beyond the water that you were simply awestruck with every story she told you. 'Fabric makes people listen, they're scared of the people with the golden buttons and sharp metal swords.'

'If you need anything, ask him and he'll get it for you,' he asks, looking over his shoulder at the man.

His tone grows harsher upon the mention of him doing his duty, your eyes falling to the man.

'Won't you, Ghost?

The masked man grabs the chair he was sitting on when you first entered the room, moving it as the brown-haired man and MacTavish move in the direction of the door. The chair settles at the side of your bed, as the pair move towards the door.

'Affirmative,' he grunts, taking a seat beside you while the two leave the Station, leaving you alone with the masked man called Ghost.

You look at him briefly, swallowing hard.

It's difficult to sit in silence, your stammering breath a reminder of all you've lost.

Beady eyes look at the masked man as you attempt to choke up the courage to say something to him. Despite sitting, his frame is much bigger than anyone else's you have ever seen, and as he leans forward, resting his forearms on his thighs, you flinch.

'Where's the mermaid?' you ask.

You watch his eyes scan the area surrounding you.

The fabric of his black mask moves as he sucks in a breath, 'can't say,' he confesses, 'confidential; unsure if anyone is listening out to try an' find her. If word gets out where she is, she'd be dead by tonight- if not sooner,' he explains.

'Why do they want her dead? Has she done something to you?'

You want to scream.

The man beside you is short with his responses, speaking of her as though he understands the whole picture, when in reality, their confinement of her is a crime punishable by death.

'She said somethin' she should've have,' he answers simply.

His words drag against his throat as he speaks to you.

'Oh,' you muster, resting your back against the wall behind you.

'Where were you goin'?' he asks.

You raise an eyebrow in his direction, tilting your head as you attempt to process what exactly he means by his statement.

'You said you were on a boat and you were rescued by one of the sirens,' he reminds you, your face flushing with colour as you realise you have already forgotten the tale you were twisting.

'I was with my sister,' you say, 'the memory is quite fuzzy,' you confess, knowing your knowledge of the surrounding land is limited to a map of the sea, not what is beyond it. 'It was for one of her trips, she was travelling to see her husband and then the storm hit.'

'The sea isn't too fond of forgiveness,' he remarks.

'Neither is the land,' you say, falling back into the security of the covers over you, allowing your back to slip from off of the wall, lying down.

Pushing himself up, he looks down at you, mustering a small hug as you sleeping exhale.

All the emotion and crying has your eyes drooping, disregarding your conversation. The man doesn't judge you for that, however, as you watch him looking over you with gentle eyes behind the mask.

'Get some sleep,' he says.

You expect him to say more to that, yet, instead, he pulls his chair from beside you, moving to it back to the corner he was sitting in before.

You keep your eyes on his broad back, watching as he sits down, kicking his feet up on to the desk, keeping his eyes out of the window.

Your eyes stay there as you drift off to sleep.

＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚ ☾ ˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

When the door eventually bursts open, he's quick to send his eyes in the direction of Gaz as he walks through it with a bundle of garments. His mouth is open as he goes to speak, only to quickly shut his mouth when he is eyes falls to you, sleeping in the cot.

Holding the handle of the door, he pushes it shut so the lock clicks as quietly as possible, even going as far as to wince while doing so.

'I managed to find some clothes for her,' he says, 'not sure if I'm going to be a single man when she gets home, but I'll cross that bridge when I come to it.'

Setting the clothes down on the desk, Ghost stands up, picking the green cotton frock up from off of the table holding it out.

'I've never seen her in it,' Kyle says, 'don't even think she remembers having the thing, so she can't be upset about it if she completely forgot it existed, right?'

'Affirmative,' Ghost responds, 'wouldn't be too sure about it, though. She has an eye for the strangest things,' he warns, to which he laughs.

'You're right with that,' he says, 'I saw the Captain while I was out, he was comin' back from checking on the siren, told me to ask you if you're alright taking the girl in until she can remember what day it is; we can't leave her alone.'

He feels his chest tighten as he looks to you, seeing you peaceful sleep as you turn under the covers, your bare arm over your covered torso. 'You're the only one without someone... not too sure how—'

'I'll do it,' he says keeping his eyes trained on you.

Kyle looks at him with wide eyes.

'Well, she has no money does she? Not like an inn keeper is gonna give up a room for her, and I don't want to pay out of pocket to house her when she can just stay at my place.'

The man in front of him grins brightly.

'She'll hardly be any trouble, I'm sure of it,' he reassures, leaning against the desk, 'did she say anything else to you after I left?'

'She was with her sister on a ship heading somewhere to meet her sisters husband and that's then a storm hit and the ship was swallowed by the sea,' he says, 'she didn't say much, too out of it to really make much sense of the world around her.'

'Poor thing,' Gaz sighs, looking at Ghost, 'be nice to her, hey?'

'Wasn't planning on bein' cruel to her.'

'Good, good,' Kyle nods, 'Price told me to tell you that y' can have the rest of the day off if you get her out of the station, by the way. Take her home, get her something proper to eat and see if she wants to talk about it- he's sending something out to other villages to see if they have anyone who fits her description.'

'Doubt there'll be any news back for a while,' he says, approaching you, 'they don't care much for their own.'

His hand rests upon your shoulder and you grunt.

'I'll leave you to it,' Gaz calls from behind Ghost, 'gonna go and try and catch up with Johnny on patrols, doubt my lady would be too pleased with seein' another girl naked,' he chuckles, heading towards the door.

Waiting until the door is closed, Ghost proceeds to crouch down in front of you, rough hand nudging you again.

Your eyes crack open, a startled gasp escaping as you're greeted with the sight of his bone mask right in front of your face.

He feels you tense in his hands.

'Didn't mean to scare you,' he says, 'got you some clothes to keep people from starin' at you love, and then you're coming back to my place,' he explains.

His voice is softer than the tone he held with you prior and you swallow hard.

'Your place,' you croak, your face burning red from the sudden scare from your sleep.

'Yeah; until you're back on your feet and until that head of yours start workin' you're gonna have to stay here,' he explains, 'Price has sent messages out to local villages, see if any family members pick it up.'

Your face falters.

You're going to be here a while.

'Gaz got you some clothes,' he says, motioning over to the table.

Pushing yourself up, you manage to move your legs so your feet are planted against the floor. Ghost averts his eyes away from you, turning away. Sinking your teeth into your bottom lip, you look at the ground at your feet.

Surely it's not that difficult.

Pushing your self up off of the bed, you take a short breath, your legs wobbling as you land back onto the bed.

Despite being gifted the ability of legs, you find it quite pointless that you cannot use them. The water is much easier to navigate than the land is, that much you're sure of.

Looking up at the man in front of you, you let out a small breath.

'Can you help me?' you ask.

He doesn't bother saying anything to you, simply walking over to the table with the dress on it, it's an ugly green colour and you catch yourself grimacing at the fabric. Though, as soon as his eyes are on you, the sneer on your face fades away.

He's rough in the way he pulls the dress over your head, though you manage to get your arms through the sleeves with ease. It's an odd feeling, feeling the fabric against your skin, the elastic cuffs of the sleeves clinging to your arms.

Helping you to your feet, you stagger forward, your face growing red as you grab his arms for some form of support. Yet, he doesn't move, he doesn't even flinch, busying himself with pulling the skirt down, it stopping mid-thigh.

Your legs tremble as you wince, you grip growing tighter on him as you fight to stay on your feet.

'Guess I haven't quite found my footing after the accident,' you awkwardly laugh, wishing to be relieved of this torture.

Your face is beat red as you continue to curse the moon for putting you in such a position, cursing the your words during that night.

Leading you back down onto the bed, you're quick to let go of his arms as he looks at you. He knows you're not going to be able to walk to his house, and he fights off the urge to huff.

There's something so simple yet so difficult about the task... he's a fucking lieutenant in the village guard and he's been put on babysitting duties.

Be nice to her, hey?

Kyle's voice is like a dagger through his skull, and even though you can't see his face under the mask, he musters up a tight-lipped smile, swallowing all his pride for himself and his position.

'I'll carry you.'

Neither of you are happy about this, though a tight-lipped smile of your own appears on your face.

'Great... thanks.'

＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚ ☾ ˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

His home is humble, quaint, tucked away in a quiet pocket of town.

Pushing open the door, he tilts his head towards the entrance of the house. With uneasy feet, you wobble as you take a step up into his house, his hand grabbing your forearm when you nearly loose balance.

During the course of your travels, you had fought against him, insisting after catching people staring at you for him to put you down and let you walk freely.

At first, he doesn't listen, keeping his eyes trained on the path in front of him, though, fortunately, he relented after you started to squirm in his arms.

It was difficult at first, but you got the hang of it... as long as his arm was around your waist.

It finds its way back around your waist for a short moment as he helps you up the steps.

'Careful,' he utters.

'Thanks,' you respond, holding the sides of the doorframes as you walk into the living room.

It's a quaint and simple little space, although, your cove is much better than this place. Yet, you suppose you cannot be picky while undercover, his hospitality rendering you speechless.

The mystery of the red moon and her tide is still very much fresh and new, you know you must not do something to compromise your safety or your chances of finding Serelia.

Even if it is resulting in you finding shelter in a man with a skull masks home.

Pulling his hood from off of his head head, he shrugged his cloak from off of his shoulders, hanging it up on a wooden stand placed beside the door.

You stand and watch, your arms pressed to your side, still trying to understand how exactly humans manage to stand so straight on their legs.

He turns to look at you, you see his eyes shift under his mask, 'it's not much, and you're going to have to be okay with sleeping on the couch.'

'Much more than what I have right now,' you respond with a soft smile on your face.

'Thank you, Ghost,' you say

'Of course,' he says with a short nod, 'you can help yourself to whatever you want, all I ask from you is to keep out of my room.'

'I can do that,' you reassure, nodding your head.

He doubts you'll even be able to climb the stairs as he can only liken the way you're walking to that of a baby deer learning how to walk for the first time.

He can't complain however; it's entertaining to watch you, and he does so as you make your way over to your new bed, holding your arms out either side to balance yourself before toppling onto the couch with a large exhale.

Sometimes his limited compassion still manages to get him into terrible situations, and as he looks at you, he can't help but worry about what he has gotten himself in for.

＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚ ☾ ˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

After spending some necessary time in his home, you eventually find your feet... both literally and figuratively.

It's difficult for you to stay confined to the four walls of his house, granted, you don't really do much and find joy during your first day there reading through an old shabby collection of books on his shelf.

There's nothing interesting, and you're unsure as to whether or not he himself has read any of them as when you open one, you sneeze from the amount of dust covering it.

It's a fun past time you find, especially during the few attempts of being more steady on your feet. The moon must have heard your complaints as, during the second day, you're nearly unstoppable, aside from the burning in your calves each time you take a step forward.

By the third day, you're almost sprinting out of the house into the village.

It's difficult to adjust to first.

The land is unknown to you, yet, you don't threat.

Instead, you search the village high and low, walking into every store, listening to every conversation of the locals in the village. You feel your skin crawl whenever you hear their laughter, though, it's as though talk of the siren has disappeared completely.

From spending time reading in the library to simply perusing the streets, you're wounded by the lack of information.

Why isn't anyone talking about her? Surely they know where she is; humans hate us and they'll want us gone for the issues we've caused.

The question follows you for a while, only stopping when you see the door open during your fifth night of staying inside Ghost's home.

He appears tired and as his hand moves to his cloak, he quickly stops himself from pulling it down when he sees you in front of him.

It's an odd thing, you've observed him over the past few days, and not once has he shown his face.

Still, you don't care for his habits as you open your mouth over dinner after swallowing a mouthful of food. Your hands is grabbing for the water next to your plate as you state, 'how come no one in town is mentioning the siren anymore?'

He looks at you, chewing under his mask which he holds up after each bite. 'Price has made it a rule,' he states, 'Lords out of town right now on business, until he comes back, we have to hold her per his request,' he explains, 'we've gotta keep her safe and if anyone is heard discussin' her, he's treating it as though it's treason.'

You offer a short nod, going back to eating your food.

'Why?' he eventually asks.

'I just thought, with something as big as this discovery, it would be the talk of the town for years,' you say, 'I thought it was strange, that's all.'

The look he gives you makes you think that he doesn't quite believe what you're saying to him, though, he doesn't press on the matter, going back to eating his dinner.

It's strange to spend time with a human, especially living with them.

He doesn't speak much, only really talking to you at dinner time or greeting you after returning from his shifts around the village to make sure everything is in check.

'You can take the mask off, you know,' you say, observing his discomfort, 'your identity doesn't make a difference to me, besides... this is your home,' you say softy.

Truthfully, the mask is just as much as an annoyance to him as it is to you.

Surprisingly, he listens to your words, pulling the mask tied around the back of his head off of his face allowing you to see his mouth.

Really, he does even know why he committed so long to wearing the stupid thing, growing especially frustrated as dinner grew to be more of a chore than something of enjoyment.

Old habits die hard, he supposes, and the habit of wearing around you died that night thanks to your comment.

While eating, he attempts to ignore your eyes on him, though he is far too aware that you're staring at him, not missing the way your cheeks have a light tinge of red to them.

Grinning to himself, he shakes his head at a crude thought that suddenly pops into his mind, narrowing his eyes as he lifts his head to look at you.

You drop your head immediately, focusing much more on your food than on him, though your embarrassment is difficult to miss.

＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚ ☾ ˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

Simon seems warmer to you after you've been at his house for a little longer. The longer time passes by, the more trips you're taking to the ocean.

It started with one in the early morning, although, you find yourself walking there at the beginning of every day all to talk to the waves, hoping you'll see the familiar face of one of your sisters in the water. Yet, you don't.

Part of you is happy with this fact, not wanting them to see you in such a state wearing the ugly green frock, the only thing you own aside from a pair of sandals which Ghost brought with him upon returning from a shift.

On occasion, you bump into one of the men you saw when you first stop at the station. You learn that MacTavish's name is actually Johnny, and Gaz, the man who found you on the beach, is named Kyle.

They stop to talk to you for a while, sometimes walking with you to the beach where they speak with you.

Nothing interesting really comes from the conversations until, a month into your stay in the village, Johnny blabbers a little too much.

'He enjoys your company, bonnie,' he confesses after complimenting your new pink dress Simon bought you, 'was telling me that he's enjoying giving you little gifts and having you with him for dinner. I'm tellin' you, he like you more than you think.'

'How can he like me when I don't do anything but steal his food and sleep on his couch?'

'Couldn't tell ya, lass, strange man is our Simon.'

You hold your breath.

'Simon?' you ask slowly, a smile creeping on your face.

He slaps a hand over his mouth, his face growing red.

'His names Simon?' you ask, craning your neck forward to look at the blushing mans face.

'Forget I said anything,' he demands, rubbing his face with his hand. 'Please,' he almost begs. 'What I mean to say, lass, is that he does like you, and if you haven't thought of doing something for him, maybe consider it.'

His words follow you into the nighttime as you're helping Simon cook.

It's been something you've been doing for a while, intrigue taking you down the strangest path.

'My mum used to make this soup,' he explains, 'the recipe for it is somewhere, I don't know where it's gone though. It was great for nights like there.'

You hear a bell chime in your ears, thinking back to Johnny's words. Simon doesn't miss the smile on your face.

'What? What did I say?'

'Nothing, Sim-'

You freeze.

The pair of you stare at each other.

'Ghost, I mean Ghost!' you exclaim, holding your hands up, realising that you have most definitely gotten poor Johnny in a hell of a lot of trouble.

'Johnny told you didn't he?'

'He slipped up while he was talking to me today, he didn't mean it and I'm sorry if-'

'Say my name,' he cuts you off quickly and your eyebrows furrow.

'Simon?'

He grins to himself, turning his head away acting as though you have just done him the greatest act of service. 'I like how it sounds when you say it,' he says, going back to chopping up the vegetables, 'much better than Ghost.'

Redness spreads to your cheeks as you admire the look of joy on his face, finding that you want to do that more in order to see that look on his face.

So, as you're eating dinner that night, and even when you're lying on the sofa, you scheme like a criminal.

You toss and turn before you eventually get up and begin your search. Holding a lit candle, your eyes scan through his shelves looking high and low.

You spend what must be hours flicking through books, moving things, looking under the sofa, attempting to squint your eyes to look through floorboard before you find it tucked between the countertop and stove in the kitchen.

Only then can you rest easy, your eyes closing as you think about the mission you have got to complete tomorrow.

＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚ ☾ ˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

Walking through the bustling village main street, you listen to the bright tunes of the surrounding marketplaces, small stalls on either corner of the street, pushing everyone on the main road closer together.

You brush shoulders with a few people, keeping your arms out in front of you as you walk with a basket in front of you, the gold coins Simon has given you per your request rattling in your other hand.

It's rare you're outside as you spend most of your times in the library or back at Simon's home. Though nothing is going to stop you from making Simon the soup he mentioned last night.

Your heart flutters at the thought of how much he has done for you, and as a form of a thank you, you're going through the crumpled up recipe you stole from out of his kitchen, going to different stalls to get the things you need for the recipe.

The trip renders you exhausted, and by the time you're back at his house, you're fighting against sleep as you chop up the vegetable, putting them into the pot. You're unsure if you're doing it right, although, the longer you leave it to simmer, the more it takes the shape of something edible... you suppose.

You keep it on the stove until you hear the door open, and whether or not it tastes good, you're fine enough with the delightful smell that is exuding from the pot on the stove, looking in the direction of the door as it opens and Simon steps into the room.

'You're back,' you cheer, dropping the wooden spoon in the pot, approaching him.

The door shuts and he pulls his takes his hat from off of his head, pulling off his mask.

A crooked smile greets your eyes.

'What's all this?' he asks, his arms resting on your shoulders. It's common now, him touching you, and you sink into his hold on you with a sigh.

'Well, I thought you'd appreciate me making dinner for you,' you say sweetly, grabbing his hands, pulling him through into the kitchen, motioning to the table set. 'Also, you mentioned the old recipe your mum used to make for you, so, I thought I'd try my hand at it, see if I'm a good cook or not.'

He lets out a small ‘hm' as he grabs two bowls from out of the cupboards, placing them down on the countertop beside the stove. His hand hand is touching the small of your back as he grabs hold of the wooden spoon you left in the pot, tugging down the black mask covering his nose and mouth.

You watch, holding your breath as you await his reaction.

'Is it terrible?' you quietly as, looking on his face for any form of reaction, yet, he's unmoved. 'We can get something else to eat if it's really terrible,' you offer, pushing down the cuticles on your nails as you keep your eyes on him.

Setting the spoon back into the pot, he exhales. 'Needs a tad bit more salt, sweetheart,' he gently says, 'but considering this is your first time making it, I think you've done a pretty good job, hey?'

You can't stop yourself from smiling at his gentle words, feeling the warmth of his large hand pressing against your back as he reaches beside the stove, grabbing a salt shaker. 'A little more practice and I think I'm going to have my own personal chef,' he comments, adding some more salt into the soup.

Grabbing the spoon, you stir the mixture, scooping up another spoonful, holding it out to him with your hand underneath it, 'how's it now?'

His eyes are on you as he places his mouth against the spoon.

'Much better,' he says with a smile, 'go sit down, I'll do this.'

'Are you sure?' you ask, feeling him move his hand from off of your back. He gives you a short nod.

'Don't want you to burn yourself, go sit down.'

Over dinner, you share brief words, but it is in the silence and the company of him that you find you're most at peace.

There's nothing from either of you, and you take time to eat the soup you have been working on all day. It's okay, a little on the watery side, and you do think that Simon is still definitely a much better cook that you.

He thinks the soup tastes a tad funny, but he doesn't say it to you.

Such thoughts leave the pair of you to sit together, silently thinking about each other, yet not having the heart to disrupt the peaceful silence.

After dinner, you attempt to help him clean up, only, he refuses your help, requesting you stay in the living room.

'Simon you always do stuff for me,' you whine with a huff, 'let me help you- washing a dish isn't gonna kill me, y'know?

'I have a surprise for you and you're not going to get it if you keep going against what I've asked of you,' he warns, 'be a good girl for me, yeah? Go sit down, I'll be right through and you can have your gift.'

Suddenly, it's like your legs don't work anymore.

Knees almost buckling at his words, you gulp hard, managing out a short breath as you nod your head, not saying another word to him as you approach the living room, taking a seat on the plush sofa, sinking into one of the many black cushions.

Pressing your face into your cupped hands, you fight off the urge to scream at the very fact he only has to speak to you and you melt like butter in a pan.

Death would be easier than this.

Eventually, he reappears holding a box in his hands. Setting it down on your lap, you smile at the sight of a white ribbon tied into a bow. It's a charming sight, and you fight off the urge to rest your head on his shoulder as he sits next to you.

'You didn't have to,' you whisper.

'Well, you don't have many dresses, sweetheart,' he comments, 'my mum would have my head if she found out you only had two dresses,' he said with a short chuckle, his eyes narrowing as he sighs, 'I saw it the other day, been trying think of a good time to give it to you.'

Carefully, you untie the ribbon, pulling the top of the box off, setting it aside.

Peering up at you is a white cotton frock. Small flowers stitched into the open neck of the dress.

Pulling it out, you hold it out in front of you, letting out a squeal as you see the fabric touching all the way to the ground.

You jump into his lap, pressing a firm kiss onto his cheek.

'I love it!' you exclaim, holding the dress to your chest, before quickly pushing yourself off of him, shrugging off the sleeves of the green frock you've had since arriving in the village. 'I don't even wanna wait to try it,' you say brightly.

He watches amused as the fabric falls from off of your body, pooling around your feet. You're unapologetic of your appearance, tits on full show without a single care in the world.

Pulling the white dress over your head, you wiggle your hips as it hugs your waist, covering your legs.

He watches you, his hands on his thighs as you clumsily spin around in a circle, your skirt raising as you do so. 'What do you think?' you ask, 'does it look nice?'

He exhales deeply.

'Was made for you, sweetheart,' he replies with a bright grin on his face, 'gimme another spin.'

Your cheeks flush red, though you comply, your heart swelling at the request.

＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚ ☾ ˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

In the midst of the night is where you roam free, walking through the streets of the village, treading down to the shore all to sit by the water. You watch as the waves roll in with a joyous glint in your eye, knowing home is right at your fingertips.

But oddly, you find home is also on land in the form of your sister and the tall man with a strange mask.

The very thought of him makes you feel nauseous, the thought of him washing all your sentence just as the waves do the shore.

Dinner tonight was almost too much for you to handle, to have someone so close to you, to feel his hand on your back and to hear the humans terms of affection leave his mouth with the intent of the meeting your ears... everything.

You blame the dress you're wearing too.

You feel like you're betraying the words of your dear mother.

She has warned you time and time again of the dangers of the human folk, and here you are, wearing their legs, missing your tail and your vibrant scales, yet, prepared to throw it all away all to hear him utter your name and call you sweetheart just one more time.

All that for a human who doesn't even know the truth of who you are.

'I thought you were here,' you hear a voice call from behind you, almost submerged in the crashing waves.

Turning your head, you see Simon approaching you, his boots leaving prints in the sand.

Stopping beside you, you turn your head as he sits beside you. 'Why 'ave you come all the way out here at this time?'

'Needed some fresh air,' you mumble, resting your chin against your knees, hugging your legs.

'You'll find her again,' he says.

Your blood runs cold.

'Sure that siren saved her just as she saved you, yeah? You'll be with her again some day soon, and who knows, maybe she's become one of them herself.'

'She'd like that,' you whisper, looking at the tide.

I'd like that too.

'Until you know where she is or receive a letter from home, you're stuck with me,' he says, 'sorry.'

You laugh.

'You've been the thing to keep me sane through all this, Si',' you reassure, 'without you I would've lost my mind. I need you, and what you've done for me means more than anything any else has ever done for me.'

'Thank you,' he speaks with his chest, you can hear the smile on his face as he speaks. 'I've enjoyed the company, it's nice to have someone to come home to, makes a change from the constant silence, gets me down sometimes.'

You will die before he is ever alone again, you're convinced.

Letting go of your legs, you pull away from the shore, moving towards him.

The light of the moon bouncing off of the water illuminates his features deliciously and you can't help but think of how he would look beneath the water where the pair of you could live out your days together.

Placing his hand on your knee, you rest your head against his firm shoulder, letting out a small breath as you look out onto the sea.

'Do you want to go back home to your village?' he asks.

'I don't have attachments to places, only people,' you respond, 'doesn't matter where I am as long as I have the people I care about with me- and if they wish to go somewhere else, then I'll will let them to do so.'

'So, when your sister finds you, you're gonna go back home?' he quietly asks, looking at the calm water.

'I don't know,' you say, 'so used to having you with me, and she's found her love now, she doesn't need me anymore. If she even is still alive that is.'

Leaning into the narrative is bruising, and in his silence you sit and think about whether or not you would return to the sea once you finally know that Serelia is safe.

These are the people who have hurt her, the man beside you is keeping her from you, yet, there you are in his arms, seeking comfort in the idea of living out the rest of your life at his side.

Really, you should want to put the entirety of the village under water.

'I want you to stay,' he quietly confesses, 'too used to y' now,' don't think I could go back to normal if you left.'

The feeling of nausea hits you again.

'I wouldn't know what to do with myself,' you say, feeling his grip on your knee tighten.

He holds his breath and you turn to look at him. Half lidded eyes stare back at you, and you find your hand reaching out to slip beneath the mask of the skull on his face, hooking your fingers beneath the fabric of the mask.

'Can I?'

He looks at you, though says nothing.

As you pull your hand away from his face, he pulls the hood down off of his head, undoing the tie around the skull mask on his face, allowing it to fall onto his lap.

Pulling the mask down, allowing it to pool around his neck, he looks you in the eyes. You stare back, settling your hand against his cheek. As you listen to the calmness of the water and under the watching eyes of the moon, you have little issue in leaning in closer.

His hand finds the back of your head as your lips ghost each others and you can feel hit hot breath fanning against your mouth.

'Am I gonna regret this?' you asks.

'You might,' he replies, 'but I won't judge you for it if y' do.'

Your breaths mingle as your lips finally meet, a soft and hesitant connection which sends shivers down your spine. Its delicate, the feeling of his mouth against yours as he holds you as though you're seconds away from turning to ash, leaving him forever.

And while your lips were against his, the thought of doing such doesn't cross your mind.

Not even once.

Upon returning to his house, you walk past the couch you have been lying on, his hand on the small of your back pulling you past, guiding you up the stairs to his bedroom.

Nothing like what you have read happens, instead, he helps you out of your dress, leaving you in your panties. You ask for nothing from him as you climb into his bed as he undresses.

It's intimate, the feeling of his hot flesh against yours setting a light afire in your stomach as you curl into his side, just as you curled into your cove hidden within the depths of the sea.

＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚ ☾ ˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

Days progress and your search for Serelia quells as you keep an open ear on the talks of the city folk.

You could have ended all of this a lot sooner with a song, louring all of them into the water to give you an ample opportunity, but you haven't.

Some other time you would have, though, you've heard your voice while humming a song as you clean your flesh in the mornings, and it's devoid of the deepness to travel as far as it did while sitting upon the rocks on the sea.

She is still alive and well wherever she is, and you're quite sure she has been moved around quite a bit as a safety precaution, and with Price's willingness to keep her from the wrath of the village folk, you know that at least some of the men in the village are good.

The more days roll on, the softer the touches from Simon grow, and as you're sitting in the village library again, holding a book in your lap, your fingers trace over the words written, leaving your words caught in your throat.

Reading has been the one thing to keep you from the curse of whatever has happened to you, and you find the stories written by humans to be quite amusing.

Perilous speculation at it's finest! Your favourite.

Though, you find it's difficult to breathe as you progress further and further through the books in the library until you were greeted with one covered in dust.

The lady didn't see you pull it off of the shelf when you did, and as the sky grows orange before eventually fading to darkness, you're unaware of the change in workers as you press your thighs together, hot breath fanning against the pages of the book.

Only, it's not the story that has you blushing.

Rather, your own thoughts as you replace the characters in your head, seeing the same set of eyes that have been greeting you for the past week while waking up.

It's wrong and it's dirty, but you can't help but think of him.

Perhaps this is simply how humans show affection, and it's not like you haven't been close to doing it; your bare breasts have been pushed against his chest when the pair of you wake in the dawn, and neither of you have moved an inch during the closeness, relishing in the closeness.

'I've got work, love.'

'I don't care, too comfy for you to leave me.'

Your mouth grows dry as you contemplate whether or not he has thought of you in a similar manner, if the thoughts carry onwards to his mind from your own, or if he sees you in a different manner.

A voice calls out your name, the flame of the candle on the table beside you causing you to jump, and as you look up, you're quick to slam the book shut, clearing your throat as you tightly smile at the man standing in front of you.

'Scared me,' he says to you, 'I thought you were home.'

'I got bored,' you shakily say, gripping the book in your hand tightly, holding it as you push your chair in, 'I got caught up reading.'

Even though you try to keep the book out of his view, you find he doesn't care about the stupid collection of pages, his eyes dragging down your body as though they're scanning for any source of possible harm.

'I'm fine, Si',' you whisper.

He nods shortly, 'c'mon, it's late and you need to eat,' he says, stepping to the side, allowing you past.

Keeping hold of the book, you walk along side the man and out of the library.

'You didn't have to drag me out, y'know?' you ask, walking alongside him.

His eyes fall on you, you know it without even looking at him, your eyes scanning over the words in the book, 'could've left me in the library to live with the books, let the pots of colours ink stain my skin and cover me up. Wouldn't have bothered you every again.'

The book is ripped from your hands, slamming shut as the man standing beside you takes it off of you.

'Strange woman,' he remarks, keeping the book in his right hand as you proceed to walk through the town.

Your frustration is obvious but he clearly doesn't care, you see the way his face settles beneath the mask.

'Strange man,' you remark, 'walking around the village with a skull mask on, especially in the dark.'

He only grunts in response to your words, pulling your book in front of him, looking at the title with a raised brow. 'Saccharine?'

He looks at you with a look telling that he knows what's beyond the pages, the possibility of such making your cheeks flare red as he flicks through the pages.

'What's it about?'

'Uhm,' you look at him with weary eyes, 'it's an... adventure.'

He nods his head.

'An adventure,' he says, eyes scrolling down the page he lands on, reading aloud, ''use that pretty mouth of yours for me, sweetheart, tell me what y' want,' he grunts, watching her squirm below him.''

Your face is bright red.

'Something fuckin' adventure that is, huh?' he barks out a laugh, as you elbow him in the side, snatching the book out of his hands. 'You dirty thing reading that out in public,' he mocks, your throat growing dry as you look at him.

'Shut up,' you grumble, slamming the book shut.

His laughter doesn't cease as you head towards his home, 'maybe I should have left you in the library by yourself.'

You wish for the ground to swallow you whole, longing for the cold ocean to reach right into the village and pluck you right from his side, placing you right back into the ocean.

Grabbing his key from out of his pocket, he heads up the steps to his house. You don't miss the glance he gives you.

'Who says I can't sort it out here?' you ask.

The keys fall from out of his hand.

Reaching down, you snag them before he can even muster the strength to breathe after the comment you've just made.

'You'd have an audience,' he says, grabbing your waist as you put his key into the door, turning it.

'I don't care,' you whisper, placing your hand against his cheek, 'especially if it's you.'

You don't quite process what happens until his lips are pressed against yours, the pair of you clumsily stumbling into his house, a giggle escaping you as he keeps you pressed against him.

The next couple of minutes are lost to clumsy steps, giggles and kisses as the pair of you waste no time rushing towards his bedroom.

Somewhere along the line, your dress is discarded, as is his shirt, all for it to be put on you as you sit in his lap clumsily doing up the buttons as the cuffs fall past your hands.

It's an alien feeling, the feeling on someone's lips against yours despite all the chaste kisses you have shared during sleepy mornings, and as he grabs you with greedy hands, you feel yourself melting into his hold, pressing your chest against his as you stifle out a short sound in delight.

You're unsure what exactly the sound was as it's muffled by your lips pressing against one another's, your hands clutching at his shoulders as his hand holds the small of your waist.

You feel the little muscle in your chest flutter as he tilts your head slightly with his other hand, deepening the kiss.

Keeping your eyes close, you feel as though you are one with the tide of the ocean, your limbs become that of liquid, flowing with whatever he wills as you fall apart in his arms.

Your firm grasp against his shoulders melts away as you loosely wrap your arms around his neck, your chest growing tighter as it grows harder to find gasps to take a breath from the kiss.

Placing another kiss against your plush lips, he pulls away, placing his hand against your cheek, rubbing the pad of his thumb against your cheekbone, letting out a gentle sigh as he looks at you.

Such gentleness is unheard of, no man should be so kind, yet, here he is, holding you as though you're the most fragile seashell on the seashore, intending to hold you close to keep you as a memory.

There's an odd heat flooding your stomach when he pulls away, a pulsing in the area you're somewhat familiar with. It's a dull ache, a bruising urge and you began to squirm in his lap in an attempt to chase the feeling away.

The feeling of his pants against you brings a satisfying wave over your body, willing to continue squirming in his lap in the hopes to find some form of quick fix. A breathy whimper escapes you as you continue to grind hopelessly in his lap, chasing after the release you so crave.

Only, your his are grabbed by his hands, as he holds you in place, grunting.

'Hurts,' you grumble, your hands falling to grab his wrists in an attempt to pull them away. Yet, his hold on you persists, keeping you firmly in place.

'Please,' it escapes your lips before you even understand what it is that you're begging for, though there's something that you can only describe as longing to extinguish the fiery blaze in the pit of your stomach.

You continue to fight against his hold on your hips, you lips pressing together in an unhappy manner.

There's a glint you spy as desire in his eyes, though, much to your displeasure, he keeps himself from acting on whatever that particular desire is, leaving you teary eyed in his lap.

'Sweetheart,' Simon breathes, shaking his head, 'hey, hey, it's alright, what are you getting teary eyed f'r? Haven't hurt you, have I?' he asks as your try to blink back the tears forming in your eyes. You're frustrated, unable to tell him what exactly you want because, truthfully, you've only read about such in the books in the library during the times he was busy with work.

All of it is new, and you wish for the blessing of experience you wash over you as you look at him with a lingering frustration.

'No,' you say, 'it's not that, it's that I...' you're unsure what to say, so, you let go of his wrist, lifting your hips as you look him in the eyes, placing a hand against your core.

He looks at you with a crooked smile when he finally catches onto what exactly it is, and all you can muster, in pathetic whisper is, 'need you.'

Sinking your teeth into your bottom lip, you're relieved when one of his hands is pulled from off of your hip as he gently moves his hand against you, cupping your cunt, pressing his thumb up in a particular spot.

You let out a whimper at the strange, yet welcome sensation, noting how his hand is far better than your own.

There should be something shameful about this, only you push into his hold, hoping he returns your enthusiasm.

It's in his arms you feel the most safe you have ever felt, even the tide of the ocean cannot compare to him in this moment as he pulls you loser, looking upon you with moons for eyes, conveying the idea that, maybe, he does think you're the prettiest thing he has ever set his eyes on.

Your back is pressed against the bed, the absence of his touch like a dagger through your heart. He looms over you, arms either side of your head. The lack of light, the flickering flame of the candle and the beams of light from moon shooting through the window render you speechless as you look at him.

'My pretty girl,' he utters underneath his breath, his hand brushing under the cotton shirt, moving further up your skin. Goosebumps form on your flesh as he does so, cheeks red the longer he keeps his eyes on you. 'Made with wind an' sea, you are,' he says, brushing his hand down your stomach, resting it against your pubic bone as he looks you. 'Tell me what you want, sweetheart.'

Opening your legs for him, you muster up a small whimper, looking him in the eyes, 'want you to touch me,' you quietly say, 'please, Si', need you to make me feel better,' you beg, feeling as though you're seconds away from collapsing.

A breath escapes you as he pushes your panties to the side, trailing his fingers up and down your folds with a groan.

There's a distinctive wet noise as he does so, spreading your cunt open with two fingers. Looking down between the valley between your breasts, you swallow hard at the sight of him touching you, jolting when his fingers brush against your clit.

It's unlike anything you've ever experienced.

Continuing in a fluid motion, your back arches as pretty moans escape your mouth, writhing beneath him. The heat in your stomach only grows as he does so.

'That's it, sweetheart,' he utters, sliding his fingers downwards, pressing one digit against your hole. 'Gonna be good for me an' take my fingers?' he asks, to which you eagerly nod your head.

'Y- Yes, please,' you respond, your back arching against the bed as he pushes a finger into you.

An odd stinging sensation causes a tear to slip past your eye as you fist the sheets below you, letting out a small sob. He pauses, you catch the orange light from the candle in his eyes as his mouth falls.

Then, you begin to feel him pull away.

'No,' you quickly exclaim, 'no, no, don't pull away, it's just...' you sink your teeth into your bottom lip, 'I've never done this before.'

He looks at you with wild eyes as he expression softens. Leaning forward, he places his lips against your and you cup his face with both of your hands, your mouth falling open as he begins to thrust his finger in and out of you.

Pressing his forehead against yours, he sighs, 'I didn't know, love,' he confesses under his breath, 'I shouldn't have made assumptions—'

'It's not your fault, Si', you didn't know,' you reassures, 'but I don't want you to stop,' you say, toes curling as his finger presses against a spot which almost has you seeing colour.

The air in the room is hot, only growing when you see a crooked smirk on his face as a crude squelch sounds.

You feel another finger against you.

'Gonna make sure your pretty cunt is taken care of,' he says, 'won't want anyone else after you've had me,' he utters, pushing another finger into you.

It burns for a moment, the stretch aching, yet working to contribute to the cord tightening in your stomach.

You're unsure as to what to expect as a delicious heat envelopes yous body, clumsy hands letting go of his face, moving to his shoulders. More tears slip down your cheeks, a loud moan escaping you as both his finger brush against a spot which has you falling apart in his hold.

You expect him to relent, though, he positions his fingers to proceed to hit that spot. By now you're a babbling mess under him, all the while he's grinning at the pretty mess you're becoming, soaking his fingers as you edge closer and closer to the edge.

You're not going to last much longer, he knows such as you clench around his fingers, his cock hardening at the very thought of having that pretty pussy around him.

There's a panic in your eyes as you edge closer to the edge, so he presses a chaste kiss against your lips, 'you're okay, princess,' you gently says, let go, cum for me, cum around my fingers, let me see how pretty you look,' he says, cautious not to make a demand as he continues to work his fingers into you, stretching you out.

Your chest heaves as you screw your eyes shut, your muscles tensing as you find yourself bracing for the coil in your stomach to snap.

It's odd to be scared of something that is making you feel so good, and you relax realising you're in his arms.

Your thighs begin to tremble as you let out small moans, drool trailing down your chin as you press your head back into his pillow, the heat in your stomach dispersing, crashing down into a pleasurable wave which has you almost sobbing.

Your hole clenches around Simon's finger, your entire body turning stiff as you stifle out a crude gasp, your orgasm washing over you. You watches as you completely fall apart, your juices flooding his fingers as you cum. 'That's it, you're okay,' he breathes, 'I got you, you're okay,' he reassures, his fingers fucking you through your orgasm.

Your raging breath steadily quells as he pulls his fingers out of you, sitting back on his thighs. Your hair is sticking your back as sweat soaks into the shirt you're working.

Whimpering, you watch as he presses the two digits he used to fuck you between his mouth, cleaning the mess you made of his hands with his tongue, letting out a short moan as he pulls his fingers out of his mouth, 'as sweet as honey,' he remarks, taking a moment to admire your glistening cunt.

Instinctively, you close your legs, all for him to tut, placing his hands on your knees, pulling them open again.

'Prettiest cunt I've ever seen sweetheart,' he say, 'don't try and keep it from me, yeah? You're not gonna be cumming around anyone else's cock aside from mine; gonna ruing you, shape that pretty hole for my cock and my cock only,' he gruffly speaks.

You hear the shift of fabric.

Pulling his underwear off, he tosses it somewhere into the room, sifting upwards, a crude wet slap filling the room as he slaps his cock against your clit.

You let out a small yelp as the sensation, your cunt still marked with sensitivity from your orgasm. Though, as you feel the blunt head of his leaking cock between your folds, you find the heat returns with a vengeance, leaving your mouth dry as he presses himself against your hole.

'It's gonna hurt for a second,' he warns, grabbing your hip with his hand, 'just keep breathing for me, let that pretty pussy stretch around me- I'll give y' all the time you need, just tell me,' he utters.

His tone is much darker than any you've ever heard, and as he begins to push himself into you, your mouth closes as you sink your teeth into your bottom lip so hard that you're quite sure you're going to draw blood.

A filthy moan escapes your lovers lips as he pushes into, the heat around his cock making it hard to keep a clear mind as the longing to fuck you until you're sobbing possesses him.

It won't take much, he knows that, counting on the fact that he's not even half way in and tears are already pouring down your cheeks.

Gripping your hips, he eases himself in to the hilt, moaning as you clench around his cock.

'Good fuckin' girl,' he curses, his nails digging into your skin as you wince. Never have you felt so full, feeling his cock pulsing in your core as you squirm beneath him.

Without even moving, you're sure he's pressing against that spot that brought you to your release just moments prior, you stomach twisting.

I'm not going to last.

Your legs merely wrap around his waist as he looks to you, and with a trembling mouth, you nod your head, 'y- you can move,' you say with a small nod, hissing as he pulls out, only to thrust back in.

Your skin is hot as sweat drips down your silky flesh, pushing downwards to meet his thrusts as he picks up the pace. The sound of you skin slapping together is vulgar, though neither of you care as you burble out weak 'ahs' under your breath as he drives his cock into you. Simon isn't quiet either, vocal grunts through gritted teeth as his bruising grip on you maintains a steady pace.

'Fuuuckkk,' he moans, grabbing the bottom of his shirt, ripping it open. You offer him as startled look as he drags his blunt nails up your stomach, grabbing your tits, rolling your nipple between his fingers. 'Prettiest fuckin' girl to ever walk the land,' he claims, 'made for me and my cock, and it's all mine, isn't it?'

'A- All yours,' you confirm, unable to keep a sane mind about you as he's fucking you dumb.

All your mind is sticking to is the thickness off his cock as it's hitting all the right spots. You're sure you're drooling from the sensation, your eyes falling back into your head as you babble out nonsense.

'No one else's,' you manage to get out before you're completely at his disposal, the feel of your next orgasm creeping up on you.

'You gonna cum for me again, princess?' Simon asks, greedily sucking in air as he looks at you, feeling your cunt clenching around him. He himself is edging closer to the edge, the tightness of you around his thick cock simply being too much to bear.

'Yes, 'm so close... so fucking close, please, please let me cum,' you dumbly beg, not able to keep the words from flowing past your lips.

'Go on, sweetheart, cum around my cock, make it yours,' he demands, his thrust growing much more sporadic as he chases after his own release.

A moan escapes your lips as you arch you back off of the bed, your entire body spasming as you allow yourself to fall into the pleasure of your orgasm as the cord in your stomach snaps, forcing a gasp out of you.

Squeezing your eyes shut, you let out a brittle sob, tightening around his cock as you cum. The sound of your skin connecting is wet as Simon fucks you through your orgasm, his curses and grunts filling your ears.

'Fuck, fuck, fuck, that's right sweetheart,' he moans, 'gonna make you mine, fill you up with my cum, no one else is having you, you're mine,' he grunts out, pressing into your, your cunt against his pubic bone as his hands tremble.

He lets out a moan as he fills you up.

It's a filthy feeling, but you love it terribly, your hole twitching as you feel his pulsing cock empty his load inside of you.

A short breath escapes him, and you moan feeling him push deeper inside of you, thrusting and out of you to ensure you're not missing a drop of it.

Remaining inside of you, he moves to lay beside you, keeping bodies pressed against you, the smell of sex and sweat in the clammy air of the room, but he doesn't even think of pulling out, let alone pulling away. Instead he settles with his cock inside out you, pressing another kiss against you.

Your eyes feel heavy, your entire body sluggish as you press your face into the crook of his neck.

'Good girl,' he utters against your skin.

You lay together for a short while before he eventually pulls his softening cock from out of you, you whimpering from oversensitivity as he does so. Your inner thighs are wet, and as your hole clenches around nothing, you're face grows red as you feel his cum dripping out of you.

He leaves you alone for a short while and you lay, your body blanketed in the moonlight. Beyond the window in his room, you spy the ocean in the distances, seeing the rolling waves, your throat tightening are your eyes move around the room, spying his side of the bed, then lifting back to the water.

You can't possibly stay here forever? Can you?

You have people, you have your sister still to find, getting no closer to having Simon confess to you where she is being kept.

When you uncover it eventually, what are you going to do? Free her and stay here? Will the even want you back when you return with the marks of a human all over you?

Your eyes water when he comes back into the room with a cup of water and a damp cloth in his hands, approaching you.

He sees the furrow of your brow and the discontent on your face, taking a seat beside you, pressing his hand against your face.

'I haven't hurt you have—'

'No, no,' you quietly state, sniffling, 'just...' you look at him, holding his wrist. 'I like you,' you whisper, his eyes growing wide at your confession, 'I- I know it's soon but—'

'I like you too, sweetheart,' he reassures, setting the cup of water down on the nightstand.

You rejoice in the outcome of your diversion, noting it works well as he looks at you with all the adoration the human heart can muster. 'Let's get you cleaned up, yeah? Can't leave you like this,' he utters, to which you nod in appreciation.

The night is sleepless for the most part as you're in his arms. It's difficult to confess to yourself, but you're aware of the lies you have told and of the possible consequences to come from it.

Even if he isn't fearful of what you are, there's still the fact that the betrayal will be too great as, essentially, everything you have together is built on a lie, and you're only encouraging it through playing the role of human.

A part of you wishes to wake him from his current sleeping state and tell him, yet, you cower in the thought of conflict destroying the night the pair of you have shared.

So, you tell yourself that you'll tell him tomorrow instead before falling into the heat of his body, closing your eyes.

＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚ ☾ ˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

In the morning you wake with a dull ache between your thighs, looking to the side of your bed.

Simon isn't there and you sit up quickly, eyes scanning around the room, a panicked breath squeezing out of your lung as you search for him.

Has he left for work already?

You feel an odd sense of betrayal well in your breast as you shuffle from under the sheets, stopping in your tracks when you hear the creak of the staircase leading into his room. His head appears first and you quickly fall back onto the bed, eying him.

'I thought you left for work,' you confess as he climbs the final step. He shakes his head, looking out of the window to the early morning sun. It covers his frame in a delicious light and you take a moment to admire him. How his white shirt settles against his chest, the mask on his face right back where it usually it.

It's a shame though; you want to see his blond hair in the light of the sun.

'I'm not that cruel, sweetheart,' he reassures, 'want you to come with me today; I'm sitting in the Station by myself while the other three do whatever, want some company with me,' he says, we'll stop by the library and bakery before we go there, I'll get you that pastry you like,' he offers, fixing the buckle of his belt, 'what do you think?'

Propping your head up with your hand, you look as hm with rosy cheeks and a bright grin on your face. 'Make me a cup of tea when we're in the station too?' you ask.

'If I must,' he says, laughing, moving towards one of the drawers in his bedroom, pulling it open.

Grabbing a dress and panties, walking up to you. Shifting in the bed, you push the sheets back, standing up, taking the panties from his hands.

Stepping into them, you look up to see him holding your dress, the skirt bunched up. 'Hold your arms up,' he instructs, to which you giggle at, but comply, holding your arms up.

Placing the fabric of the dress over your head, you slip your arms inside of the sleeves, as he kneels down in front of you, pushing his mask up slightly so he can press kisses onto your stomach as he lowers the skirt of the dress further and further down.

More laughter spills past you as you watch him with do so. The skirt reaches your ankles and he stands up, grasping your waist. 'Happy I got this dress for you,' he comments.

You quirk an eyebrow.

'I thought you said it was plain.'

'Nothing's plain when you're wearing it, sweetheart,' he responds, pressing a kiss onto your lips. You roll your eyes at his sappiness despite melting into his hold.

'You're an idiot,' you say.

'And you're slow,' he retorts, letting go of your waist, 'finish up getting ready and meet me downstairs, don't take too long; don't wanna be stuck in a queue at the bakery.'

'You're the reason—'

'Don't wanna hear it, princess,' he calls as he walks down the the stairs, leaving you alone in his bedroom, crossing your arms over yourself as you watch him disappear.

＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚ ☾ ˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

He cannot take his eyes off of you as you sit in the station, stray crumbs of the pastry around your mouth as you babble on about one of the books you found in the library.

It never occurred to him until now that it's very much possible to be a love drunk fool, and he feels himself grinning under his mask as you speak with such passion, it's making him lightheaded. He has little understanding of what you're talking about, but that doesn't matter.

He sits and listens to you, only stopping you when he reaches out his hand, brushing away the clumsy flakes of pastry from around your mouth. You stare at him, eyes panning down to your skirt as you blush at the sight of golden flecks on the white fabric.

Brushing your hands over your covered thighs, you brush them away, looking back at him. Opening your mouth, you go to speak, all for your moment to come crashing down as Kyle barges into the Station.

Taking one look at the pair of you, he lets out a comically loud wretch, 'save it for the bedroom, please,' he breathes, closing the door behind him.

'What are you doin' back?' Simon asks, checking your face for any more crumbs, letting a small grunt when he's satisfied there are none, pulling his hand away from you. 'Thought you were going to be out all day.'

'I've been looking for Rhys,' he says, 'he's supposed to be keeping an eye on her and I haven't seen her, when I went to the cabin the door was locked, all the curtains were drawn too,' he explains, rubbing his head.

Your ears perk up with the mention of a cabin, glancing at Simon before back at Gaz.

She's in a cabin somewhere nearby and she's still alive.

Your heart settles with the thought.

'He couldn't have gone far,' Simon says, 'might've slept in or something- if something was wrong, he wouldn't disappear on us.'

'You're right,' Kyle says, closing the door behind him, 'he's a good kid, shouldn't be thinking badly of him in the first place, just difficult not to worry when he's usually there at the crack of dawn, you know?'

'Are people still demanding a trial?' you ask.

'Yeah,' Kyle responds, approaching the fireplace to the right of the bed you're sitting on, pulling the lid off of the kettle. Fortunately, Simon replenished it after making you both a mug of tea. 'We're trying to push it back; she's a nice girl from what I can tell, doesn't speak much though- to me at least,' he explains.

'Why don't you just let her go?'

'Letters from the Lords telling us we can't act until he's back home,' he says, 'unfortunately, we work for him. If it was up to me, she'd be back in the water; I think everything people are saying about her is nothing more than fairytales.'

You smile at his words; he's right, in terms of her, they are all fairytales.

If he's looking for the sirens from fairytales, he's already eyeing her as he talks to you.

'Do you want another cup of tea?' Kyle asks, looking at the pair of you. Simon shakes his head but you nod, though, before you can reach for your mug, it's taken from out of your reach as Simon holds it out for Kyle.

You give him a short look which he returns after handing your cup to to Kyle who busies himself with minding his business.

'You my servant now?' you ask.

'Can be if you want me to be,' he answers.

You roll your eyes, leaning your back against the wall, dusting the remnants of your breakfast off of your hands.

'You're sweet talk is making me sick,' Kyle calls, approaching you, carefully handing you your mug of tea, 'need some lessons in it, Simon,' he adds.

'Fuck off,' barks the man.

'I've got nothing to do so you're not getting rid of me for a while,' he says, 'I'm gonna stay here for a while before heading back up to the cabin, haven't had a moment to relax this morning,' he scoffs, 'could do with a moment of rest.'

Sitting forward, you move your legs off of the bed, allowing Kyle to take a seat beside you, sipping from your mug, 'there's always something to be doing,' he begins to complain, 'never a fuckin' quiet moment in this—'

The door to the station bursts open, slamming against the wall opposite.

'She's dead!'

The cup in your hand drops as you jolt from the sudden noise, the hot liquid merely missing your thighs as you shift out of the way, hearing the tea cup shattering as it meet with the stone floor.

You curse under your breath, looking at the mess you have made as you go to drop to the ground to clean it up, all for Kyle to shake it head while Simon stands up to address the man at the door.

'It's fine love,' reassures the man sweetly, 'you'll end up cuttin' your fingers, I'll clean it up,' he says, looking down at the shattered tea cup on the ground.

Frankly, you appreciate his kindness as you raise to your feet, looking around Simon's bulky frame to the man who scared you.

He's shaking as he speaks looking at Simon, his eyes blown wide, reflective of the surface of the moon as he tugs at his fingers while attempting to express the horrors of which he has witnessed.

'I left for the night, an' when I returned she was dead,' he says, 'bloody and beaten, whoever it was took all her scales, left them around the room like it's some sort of fuckin' confetti.'

Scales.

You're sure you hear Kyle yell, but you're unsure what he actually says.

There's anger in the young man's eyes, genuine emotion as he details every single gruesome detail of the scene.

Serelia.

The siren.

'W- Where?' you manage to get out, not caring if Simon is about to say something in response. 'Where is she?' you roughly demand.

The young man standing in front of you looks at you with wide eyes as you move in front of Simon.

Your lover doesn't say anything.

'Tell me!' you demand, grabbing his shirt.

'T- The cabin just beyond the Lords house,' he stutters.

Without much thought, you're rushing out of the station without any hesitation, rushing through the streets as your heart rages in your chest.

Your mind is racing with his confession, shoving past and barging shoulders with everyone as you push through the busy town square, staggering up the steps towards the direction of the Lords house.

You're aware of the man behind you; Simon never really did let you out of his sights, after all.

Everything seems so much smaller in your eyes as you stumble further and further up, tears flowing freely down your cheeks.

Perhaps it's some form of sick joke- she's okay, she's just playing dead; she's a smart girl, even having tricked you a few times.

She's okay- she's got to be okay.

You're in a fit of hysterics as you pull the door open to the small, reserved cabin.

There are footsteps behind you, a distant call for your name, only, when you pull the door open, you seek the sister you had lost that night on the shore. Still bleeding as she was when she had been taken despite her pleads for freedom, only, she isn't moving.

She lays on the wooden ground of the room, her hand open in your direction, as stray tear slipping down her face as her open, bruised eyes stare into nothingness.

You stand at the door, your bottom lip trembling as you scream out, 'SERELIA.'

Rushing up to her side, you collapse onto your knees, trembling hands hovering over her swollen body, blood seeping into your white frock as you simply sit and stare in horror.

Placing your hand against her cheek, you flinch at the icy feeling of her skin, trailing the tips of your fingers over her soft flesh. Stray scales sit on the ground from around you, plucked like petals from a daisy.

Her body is destroyed, pretty face so swollen, you hardly know who you're looking at.

Nausea hits you, though you fight against the urge to vomit up your breakfast, lunging forward, slipping your hand beneath the bleeding body of your sister, resting your forehead against her shoulder as you pull her close, her body falling over your lap as you sob, brushing your hair through her dirty ginger locks as your body shakes against her still one.

This all feels like a bad dream that you wish to wake from, only, you cannot.

'I- I'm sorry, my urchin,' you manage to get out between spouts of hyperventilation and nausea, your nails digging into her flesh as your arm settles in her blood.

'My beauty, they have destroyed you,' you mumble under your breath, unmoved by the stench in room as your chest swells.

Pulling your head off of the corpses shoulder, you press your hand firmly against her rotten cheek, observing the countless amount of cuts.

You feel the room spinning as you observe the true brutality of mankind, how they are so careless towards the rest of natures creations and you feel like a fool.

A fury burns within you, your tongue ceasing as two hands are placed on your shoulders, attempting to move you away from Serelia. Looking up over your shoulders, you spy the bewildered eyes of your lover.

'Let go of me, Simon,' you demand, turning your head back to the woman on the ground.

His hands stay firmly on your shoulders.

You wish for him to relent, but that's not in his nature. No, he wishes to keep you from all danger, and with the mess you have made of yourself and the crime scene, somewhere deep inside, you understand that you cannot have the very thing you desire.

You're pulled to your feet, crying as you kick and scream in his arms, the bloody skirt of your dress sticking to your legs as you fight against him.

'Let me go!' you cry, turning in his hold, bringing your hands to his chest, weakly hitting him as though it is he who caused the bloody slaughter. 'Let me go,' you hiccup as you're pulled out the door, away from the sight that is sure to haunt you for the rest of your life.

Pushing your hands against his chest, you shove him with all you might, though he does not move.

Placing you against a tree, he gently guides you to the ground as your legs give, kneeling on the ground before you as you chase after your breath, your legs laid out in front of you, your hands resting flat against your thighs.

Looking up towards the sky, you spy the moon staring down upon you despite the morning sky, proceeding to cry as you recall the lights on the shore the night Serelia was taken.

Your throat burns with the desire to scream and scream until you have torn the very vocal cords nature gifted to you, seeing no use in them as you come to realise that you will never call her name and get a response ever again.

'You were never on our side,' you sniffle harshly, hot tears flowing free as Simon simply stares at you. 'I see their torches in the light of your stars. You make us the villains, fool us into doing your dirty work, and then leave us stranded when you want no more to do with us,' you seethe, turning your head to the side as you continue to sob.

Simon's hand presses against your flushed face, pushing your head up from off of your shoulder, 'love, you need to calm down,' he utters gently. 'You're gonna make yourself sick if you keep on like this,' he warns.

He means well, you love him enough to acknowledge that in the midst of your fury.

Yet, your punishment leaves you weak and weary, missing the water you grew up in, missing life prior to that night.

'I already am sick,' you retort in a broken tone, 'infected with the parasite that makes me you, that separates me from her,' you cry, 'no longer a siren, only human.'

You don't care what happens, and, if you do, your emotions keep you from logic.

'W- What?' the man beside you chokes out.

You don't miss the way his hold on your face tightens, yet, you do not flinch, permitting his harsh hold as you look him in the eyes, swallowing harshly.

'I'm not a human,' you whisper, 'I don't know what I am anymore... I never had a sister, I was never in a wreckage, I was looking for her, my Urchin,' you admit, turning your head in the direction of the cabin. 'And now she's gone.'

Your sobs fill the void of silence, only, nothing fills the void of warmth against your face as he pulls his hand away from your face. Looking at him, your bottom lip wobbles.

Every lesson your mother has ever taught you is urging you to hate him, telling you that it is his fault that there she's lying there alone in a puddle of her own blood, unrecognisable.

However, no matter how much you wish to lunge forward and claw his eyes from out of his head, you find heart and mind conflict easily.

'Please say something,' you beg, caving to the gaping hole in your chest, longing for the return of his touch for, what is left after him? An outcast? Nowhere to return, even the ocean doesn't want you, and your bleak reality begins to settle in as his eyes do not change. 'Please, please talk to me, I- I've already lost her—'

He's unsure how to tread, you see the weariness in his eyes. 'What part of you is real?' he asks, 'or are you just a liar?'

'My love for you is real,' you blurt out, 'I cherish you, all of you for caring for me and for taking care of me when I needed it the most,' you continue, 'but I couldn't tell you, Si'- I- I've been trying to think of a way to tell you the truth and I was gonna do it today- I swear to you.'

'Why?' he lowly asks, 'are you afraid of me?'

'Are you afraid of me?' you question, looking him in the eyes as a stray tear falls past your eye.

He pauses.

'Your people murdered one of my own, Si',' you choke out, a flurry of emotion blowing over you as your face and skin prickle with an insatiable heat. 'We act accordingly, you treat us violently, we react with violence, but she...' your words trail, 'she did nothing to anyone, Simon. Had a voice as sweet as honey, charming, loving to the creatures of the sea, and look at what happened.'

'What's stoppin' you from hurting me?'

His voice and tone are raw as you look at him.

Truthfully, in the midst of your misery, you're unable to see the reason which keeps your fury at bay, though, when you look into his eyes, you understand for a moment long enough to form a response.

'You tried to keep her safe,' you whisper, 'keeping her from everyone, keeping her out of the way. They got to her, you didn't.'

And I can't let myself get to you for something you haven't done.

He exhales, looking towards you with bleary eyes.

Always, the desire to push him away is going to nestle within after the events of today, but nothing stops you from lunging into his arms, wrapping your arms around his neck with as you sob.

His large hand presses against your head as he pulls you close, his hold on you almost crushing as you cry into the nape of his neck. If he is hushing you, you can't hear him.

You're in his arms and he's got you.

His hold feels the same as the one you have became accustomed with during your time on land, nothing has changed.

Feeling him tug at his mask, you settle when you feel his lips press against your forehead, and with a small voice he utters, 'I love you,' he says, 'human, siren, sea monster, sea urchin, I don't fuckin' care,' he states firmly, placing another kiss on your forehead.

'I love you too,' you tightly say, feeling the urge to smile at his words, but you don't, simply remaining in his arms.

'I'm sorry, love,' he utters. 'She didn't deserve any of this, neither did you.'

With your face buried into his neck, you nod your head.

'I know.'

You lay in his arms for what seems like an eternity, holding his bloody shirt as he rubs your back.

There's nothing that can be said, you know that.

Both of you do.

A man of few words can hardly be expected to become a flowing fountain of knowledge in the span of an hour.

Anyone else would curse him for not trying to make you feel better, maybe even say he doesn't care about you. But his rough touch turns gentle with you. His boisterous manner is reserved to calmness.

Oddly enough, it's in the most violent man that you find your faith in humanity is kept from drifting off of the cliff, toppling over into the ocean.

Eventually, you feel him shift beside you and you're moved as though your a doll in a child's arms. Looking down at you, he brushes his hand against your face, wiping away the tears that have flooded your face. You place your hands over his much larger ones, looking him in the eyes as you sniffle.

'We can't leave her there like this,' he utters, 'they'll wanna burn her body, 'not gonna let that happen.'

You mouth grows dry.

'We'll bury her up here, there's a clearing near the cliff, overlooking the water so she's not too far from home.'

No words leave your mouth so you simply nod your head in agreement as the pair of you raise from the floor.

Her helps you up and keeps you steady, not daring to let go of you, seemingly fearful that, if you fell, you would shatter and leave him forever.

He does all the work, leaving you to sit and watch as he carefully raps the girl in a sheet, lifting her into his arms with ease.

You standby and watch idly, holding a shovel in one hand and a lantern in the other, unable to look the dismal sight in the eye.

As, you step outside of the cabin, keeping your head bowed as you follow after him, heading towards the burial sight he mentioned.

It's hidden, private, and you stand near the edge of the cliff, looking down into the darkened abyss of water below you as you hear the occasional grunt from behind you as Simon busies himself with digging the gave.

At this moment you're resentful, wishing for some form of blow to the head to send you over the cliff, rejoicing in the short fall before you're able to escape from the consequences of your failure.

Only, you cannot will yourself to go over the cliff on your own accord, knowing if you did, Simon would most likely blame himself- if not follow right after you.

Living in the idea is enough to keep the action at bay, the resounding guilt and regret you imagine you would feel after taking the leap filling you with dread.

So, you turn yourself around and sit next to the woman wrapped in white while Simon makes a grave for her to finally rest her weary head.

It's difficult to say goodbye.

It was difficult when you said goodbye to your mother, a bitter pill to swallow when old age claimed the crazed woman on the seas, though, the guilt stabbing into your heart like a dagger proves to make this send off much worse.

Never did you dream of doing something so horrible, yet, here you are, unable to escape reality.

It's the dead of night by the time the grave is ready, the lantern in your hand flickers as Simon holds the body of Serelia in his arms, lowering her into the grave he constructed using a shovel.

The sheet she's wrapped in is stain red, marked with her blood, and while your chest grows heavy at the sight you find solace hiding in the shadows away from the moonlight.

Kneeling to the ground beside him, you tear the edge of your skirt, placing it onto her body with a shaky sigh.

He looks at you.

'When someone passes, we pull one of own scales and lay it with them to rest so they always have a piece of us with them,' you explain, 'I can't do that for her, but I'm not going to leave her with nothing,' you state.

Grabbing the edge of his shirt, you watch with a sunken smile as he rips a piece of his shirt of, laying it beside the piece of your dress you laid upon her.

'It's an apology,' mumbles the man, 'couldn't be there to keep her from harms way in this life, but she'll have me in the next. She'll have the both of us, yeah?'

'Forever and always.'

＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚ ☾ ˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

You return to his home covered in blood.

He helps you wash, rubbing a sponge around your back as you lean forward, chin resting against your knees with void eyes. You say nothing to him, only listening to his gentle requests.

While doing so, he feels a heat growing his stomach. It had been set alight from the very second he heard you screaming and crying, and the longer he focuses, the more he finds his blood boils. Someone in the village knew where she was and they killed her- perhaps even multiple people.

A poor young girl was murdered, and in the process they murdered your spirit.

And now he is scared as he looks at you.

There's nothing to tie you to the land anymore, he understands that as he wraps you in a towel, carrying you up the steps to his bedroom in a woeful silence.

There's nothing to tie you to him and he wishes to paint the town red for the crime committed against you, swearing to himself that he will find the perpetrator.

The next time he's cleaning blood from under his fingernails will be the time he has avenged you.

Until then, however, he's committed to being beside you until you no longer want him there as he looks onto you after helping you get ready for bed, lying on his back beside you.

Nothing is left in you, your soul devoid of anything as your mind wanders to her body wrapped in that white sheet, and as you look to the dress discarded on the floor, you find you're not too far off her fate.

Laying your head upon his head, you listen to his heartbeat to make sure he's alive, fearful that he will leave you before you get the opportunity to leave him first.

'I love you,' you croak.

'I love you too, sweetheart.'

After a while he his breathing calms, soothing and melting as a wave on the beach did.

Your mind has been made up since he placed his shirt beside yours, and as you watched him cover her with dirt, you stood with crossed arms and contemplated for a while. The crashing of the waves over the cliff edge called for you as you stood there.

You cannot stay here.

For the good of yourself and the good of him.

Too much is at risk now, and too much has been lost.

Too many thoughts fill your head, bad thoughts. Bringing him to the water all to sing a song to pull him into it.

You'll watch as he fights for air, trying to break the surface of the water once more, but you will not care, simply watching him fight and fight until all life leaves him and his soul has left you.

Foolish mortal men.

You hear your mothers voice ringing in your ears as you look at his sleeping eyes, then to the blood beneath your nails.

Sinking into the watery depths of a sirens den.

Crawling from beside him, you offer him one final look at you lean over the sleeping man, pressing a kiss onto his temple, watching as his hand curls around the pillow on your side of the bed.

Misery strikes you as you look at the empty spot, something within you urging to you to crawl back into bed beside him, only, you're reminded of the celebrations litter through the town, the festering buzzing of the flies in the cabin, and the swollen face of Serelia.

How is one to move past such when they lack the very emotion of remorse?

And how are you supposed to keep your emotions at bay when you feel an unquenchable urge to bring the village into the water?

Both are impossible to solve, and somethings are better off left broken, for, if you act on your anger, you betray the man you love with all your being.

But, if you act on love, you betray the women in the sea who are most likely worried sick with your disappearance. So, you take hold of the first dress he bought you, pulling it over your head, eyes teary as you look at him sleeping.

You're making the right choice in leaving, you say that to yourself when you place another chaste kiss against his cheek, allowing the thought to follow you as you push the door of his house open, stepping onto the pavement.

It follows you down the twists and turns of the street, leading you from place you have both loved and lost back to the ocean where you have only ever know strength and family.

The land is cruel, harsher than the sea.

Even during a violent storm you find you prefer the sea for the land houses people capable of despicable things, maintaining the ability of hurting you, not only on the outside, but also on the inside. You long for normality, for a sense of belonging again, and while you know you will always have a place in his bed and arms, you have a duty to fill elsewhere, an anger to keep at bay, people to keep safe.

You have to go, and you hope he understands.

A man of few words yet the only man who could ever hold your heart and not shatter it, and as you're walking on the sand, stumbling towards the water, you allow yourself to cry an ugly and loud cry as you fist at the fabric of the dress he gifted you, pulling the skirt to your mouth, pressing your lips against the fabric. Your legs carry as you remain with the skirt bundled in your arms, inhaling the scent of the place you have grown to know as home.

But it's never going to be home again.

The water greets your feet as you allow your arms to drop to your side, walking into the sea.

The waves crash down, soaking the bottom of the pink fabric and you continue to sob as you edge further and further into the water, cupping your face in your hands as you stiffly wade through the waves.

Wiping under your eyes with your fingers, you raise your head in the direction of the sky, seeing the moon sitting above the sea. You keep your eyes trained on the red moon, unmoved by the winking stars in the night sky as you turn your back to her.

Observing the land one last time, you fall backwards into the water, whispering an ode to Serelia under your breath as the ocean swallows you whole.

𝙼𝚊𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚝

[rose-tea-and-strawberries]

Malleus x Reader Drabble

I write Reader as female

Masterlist

You really should be paying attention to what Malleus was saying, considering how considerate and enthusiastic he was. It was sweet of him, really, to offer you the seat next to him during break time when you offhandedly mentioned eating lunch alone in the library instead of at your usual table at the cafeteria because of Ace and Deuce’s shared detention - in fact, he even offered to help you with your Defense Magic essay. And what were you doing as a response to his kindness? Letting his words fade away as you observed how the sunlight did an exquisite job at highlighting his orphic beauty.

Despite being a creature of the night, a puissant being who can play with and control the nocturnal elements of his as easily and elegantly as he does his beloved violin, he looked just as ethereal under celestial rays as he does bathed in the colours of his domain.

You never really understood his cloak-and-dagger reputation, considering the fact that the same fairy whose name never failed to drain the blood from your schoolmates’ faces was also the one who’d pout childishly when Lilia would deny him his second box of ice cream or light up giddily whenever his Gao-Gao Dragon-kun would so much as move a pixel. Of course, you yourself felt the chill of intimidation slither up your spine when you saw the way he presented himself in public, from the way authority and might would adhere his form in every step he took, to the way resolution was laced in every word he spoke, to how he could rebuild an entire demolished building from crushed rubble to brand new in a blink of an eye. You were more than aware that the companion to your nighttime rendezvous was someone who should be respected and feared. 

But the strangest thing was - you never felt scared. Sure you had your moments of awe and outright reverence whenever his pure, unadulterated power was displayed, but you could never really feel anything other than that tempting allure that would tug you towards him, the tendrils of curiosity that made you want to know more about him. When you first met, you felt a kinship, a fondness to another lonely soul who felt out of place amongst their peers.

“Are you feeling well, child of man?” a deep velvety voice pulled you out of your reverie and you sheepishly noted how the page of your notebook was still mainly blank, your traitorous fingers having chosen to absentmindedly swirl your pen between them instead of jotting down what he was saying.

“Oh well I-,” you felt your face heat up at your obvious distracted mind, “I’m really sorry Tsunotarou, truly I - I guess I was just uh-”

“‘Away with the fairies’ is the correct term, I believe,” he gave you a fond smile.

“Well, yeah, I suppose,” you agree shamefully, completely embarrassed at how technically true his statement was and wishing that the ground would swallow you whole, “I am really sorry. You’re here doing me a huge favour and I’m not even paying attention. I guess - oh.”

Your still fiddling fingers had lost grip of your pen, letting it clatter against the marble floor and roll under the table.

“Sorry,” you were really getting more and more frazzled as the seconds went by, “let me just- ”

“Please, child of man, allow me,” and before you could even comprehend what was happening, the sixth foot supernatural dorm leader of Diasomnia had abandoned his seat and knelt down to retrieve your pen before holding it in front of you, a coy smile on his face, not making a single move to get up.

This nyctophilic fairy prince, whose entire existence is shrouded in fear and mystery, was kneeling before you in broad daylight, handing you your pen as if it was worth more than quadruple its weight in gold. Underneath the static in your head, you could hear the shocked exclamations of Grim and Sebek and Lilia’s ever suspicious snickering and you could feel the burning gazes of the entire cafeteria scalding against your frame. Dumbly, you simply took your pen back, all cerebral functions doing absolutely nothing - you couldn’t even remember how to breathe. 

Unaware, or unbothered, of the looks being thrown your way, Malleus sat back in his chair, just as regal and refined as he does everything else before turning to you with a secretive smile, “as we were, my dear. However, this time let’s try to keep your thoughts on me alone.”

[tadpolesonalgae]

Eris x reader: Pomegranate Seeds

A/N: So they don’t really have kings and queens in prythian but for the sake of clarification because I feel that using Lady is an odd descriptor, I’m using Queen the first time. (I was listening to a greek mythology playlist while writing this!)

Warnings: wine?

Word Count: 1,844

“To a new world.”

Raise the glass, clinking with his own, ringing like tiny silver bells. “To a better High Lord.” Caramel softens at the edge, whiskey swirling as he inclines his head, the two of you drinking deeply. Ruby liquid warms your throat, pooling in your stomach, poised to soften your mind.

Drink quietly for minutes, taking in the beauty from the uppermost levels of the palace. Forest stretching for miles, red and oranges cooling beneath the moonlight into somber, neutral shades. Leaves flutter below as wind runs her fingers through the lustrous mass, dancing through, skating across the trees as she sweeps over the landscape.

“Part of me never thought the day would come,” Eris admits, quietly. “That his immortality would prevail over my own, and this relief would never arrive.” Shafts of moonbeam smoothen the planes of his face, bathing him in ethereal silver, wine dappled with sparkling light. The deep emerald of his waistcoat is darkened by the night, shade cast down the strong lines of his body as he braces his forearms on the balcony railing, caramel corduroy tailored to perfection. He’s dappled in jewel tones, the ruby heirloom sitting pretty around his thumb, the just-licked crimson shining resplendent like wine.

“It’s fictitious; yet here we are, standing triumphant.” Brows dip in the centre, a look of tired frustration marring his features. “I don’t feel victorious at all.”

Watch him sidelong: the downcast gaze, wine sitting discarded atop the railing, breeze kissing the soft, silky hair from his face. Take another sip of your drink. “This isn’t like you,” you reply quietly, “since when has inebriation made you so morose?” It’s true intoxication tends to macerate his normally abrasive personality, but not to the point of sombreness. Tonight he’s almost melancholy.

“I’m nowhere near the peak of this mountain. I thought at least from here it would be within my sights, yet I feel as though instead I’ve stumbled upon a crater,” he mulls bitterly. “A crater so great it would take the rest of my centuries to halfway circumvent the perimeter.” His head dips, staring into the blood-red pool of liquid. It simmers slightly in response, filled with effervescence.

Lower the glass from your lips, gently putting a hand over his shoulder. “That’s why you have me. We’ll get further as a pair than if you insist on wretched solitude.” Molten caramel warms your skin, brow dipped at the centre, poised to protest. “We’ve made it together this far, Eris. I’m not about to back out now. We’re in this for the long run.”

He watches you silently, absorbing the steadfast reassurance of your palm, savouring the solace of your touch. Moonlight sets your skin aglow, bathing it in silver—how you shine. The soft cream of your dress transformed by the night into something diaphanous and celestial. Contained within the gossamer is a dusting of warmth—the colour of rosey moonlight.

Takes it all in, and commits the silence to memory. The tranquility of your touch, the innate comfort of your person. Do you know he would have undoubtedly crumbled had you not been at his side? Swallows thickly—the new world has already begun. Changes will be made, battles will be fought, failures will be suffered, but progression is imperative.

“I want to be better than he was,” Eris says quietly. It’s always been his goal, but has it ever been voiced? Or has it been kept silently locked up, fearful of who might hear and hold him accountable. “Then you’ve already succeeded,” you respond, taking a sip of your wine. “Really, I had thought you to be much more ambitious.” Eyes flick to his, ready to push him further. “Where’s your discipline gone?”

He regards you quietly, then stands from the railing. Takes a deep drink from his wine before turning to face you, one side of his face bathed in silver. “I want to be better,” he repeats quietly, “I will be better.” The edge of your mouth raises with pride, pupils dilated from the many glasses that were consumed prior to the toast. “I want to make the Autumn Court my Court. And I want its citizens to think of it as home, rather than their birthplace,” he admits, at last voicing his wishes. “I want my people to be proud of their homeland; to also desire its nourishment.”

Eris takes in a slow, deep breath, air trembling within shaky lungs. Nerves wriggling beneath his skin under the intensity of your gaze. The depth of understanding between you. Steadies himself for the first step of change.

“I want my Court to be blessed with a strong, sound-minded ruler,” he begins, eyes latched with your own. “Someone who’s fair, and just, and kind without being weak.” Your hands join on their own, independent of conscious will, fingers sliding across calloused palms, roughened from sparring and flame. “Someone equally capable of keeping their head under duress, as their humour.”

You scoff, rolling your eyes playfully, “I’d hardly describe your backhanded compliments and bladed jabs as humorous, Eris.”

He smiles a little, one that’s initially difficult to place. Until the day is recalled. The day his youngest brother had fled to spring after having his beloved executed before his eyes. The first, and last day Eris had ever disobeyed his father. You still remember the pulse of his heart, the same smile he’d given you—full of nerves, and mild terror—knowing he was doing something that scared him, but that had to done.

“Maybe not,” he admits, lightly squeezing your hands. Only now making you aware of their tremble. Does he know you can feel the spike of his pulse? Hear the nervous beat of his heart? “But I’m not speaking of myself.”

Your brow dips, furrowing as you peer up at him, wondering what plan he’s cooking up within that wonderful mind of his. Always one for strategy. Gives you another squeeze. Spine straightens. “Centuries ago, I was set on completing this journey on my own. I was the only person I needed; the only one I could depend on when things went wrong. And I will stand by my past resolutions.” He swallows, gaze steadying, familiar certainty returning to his eyes. “But I don’t want to, if I don’t have to.”

He’s talking in riddles; you have no hope of following what he’s talking about. But he sounds confident and assured, so you’ll trust him. “I want someone by my side,” he continues, quiet but firm. “I no longer want to complete the journey on my own.”

Heart warms in your chest, unable to help the smile that softens your mouth, emotion welling across your breast. “I’m right here with you,” you murmur, peering up at him. He nods, that slightly nervous twist to his lips still prominent. Takes a deep breath. Mouth shifts into a serious set, features changing to sincerity, the swiftness catching you off guard. “I want you to be at my side,” he says frankly; earnestly. “As my Queen.”

The title clangs through you, eyes widening, lips parting, breath sucked from your soul. He maintains his hold, keeping you steady. “You’ve made it clear you’ll walk this path with me. Proved time and time again you can be resourceful, and understanding, and diplomatic. What difference does it make if the next time you appear before my Court, you wear its crown? Have equal dominion over that land you care so greatly for, despite the ruin my father tried to inflict upon it because he was too miserable and sour to make changes?

“He was drowning in his own wretchedness, so condemned everyone else to his fate. But you kept your head above the water, and fought for your right to life. You survived, and made something for yourself.

“I can think of no one else more deserving, more right for the throne, than you.”

You stare at him, speechless. Hands still grasped in his own, the band of his heirloom burning into your skin. “Are you serious?” You manage, disbelieving. Heart matching the pace of his, thundering in your chest. “Completely,” he replies. “I believe you are worthy of the title, and will be capable of taking on that responsibility.” Swallows thickly. Exhales heavily. Beat raising higher. “I understand you may have concerns: I am asking a lot from you. Requesting you dedicate the rest of your life to the Autumn Court, and in doing so, also to me. It is not purely objective reasoning that forces me to make this selfish appeal; it would be deceptive and insolent of me to invite you into this contract without revealing to you the full scope of my wishes.”

His attention remains steady and assured, but it’s as though he’s been stripped back a layer, petals peeling away to reveal his golden centre. Raw intention being laid bare before you.

“The truth is, there is no one else I want as my Lady. You made me feel like myself in a way others have not. Have imparted upon me the feeling of having a home in another being, and for that I have never sufficiently expressed by deepest gratitude and fear I will never be able to.” The moonlight spills into his whiskey and caramel gaze, sending sparkling starlight glittering like crystals. “I swear on the few things I still hold dear—you being one of them—that I will do well by you. I will be a better High Lord than my father, but also a better husband, if you will gift me the chance.”

Words flutter through your minds, boggled and scrambled from his proposition. There’s always been an undercurrent between you, becoming more and more prominent in recent decades. His father couldn’t have chosen a better time to kick the bucket—sick bastard. “Your court would never accept my word, even as the new Lady of Autumn,” you manage distantly, mind spinning from the sincerity of his piece.

It’s his turn to quirk his lips, “what’s a Courtful of males in the face of your ambition?” Challenge practically drips from his mouth, eyes gleaming in the night, heating with molten determination. He’s won already, and he knows it. The pull between you irresistible. Muscle looses it’s taut tension. “I did say I’d be with you every step of the way, didn’t I?” His features shift to something gentle and tender, thumb swiping across your knuckles. “You damned yourself from the beginning,” he murmurs, one hand raising to your jaw, allowing a moment for you to pull away. You lean into him. “Don’t call a life with you a damnation, Eris,” you murmur onto his palm, tilting your cheek, knuckles brushing beneath your lashes. “You’re the best damned thing that’s every happened to me.”

Hear his heart spike at your own confession, temperature raising. The slight pressure he applies to the space below your jaw—an almost subconscious request.

Lips part in response, allowing his sweet relief to sweep in.

You thought it would never arrive.

General Taglist: @myheartfollower @tcris2020 @mali22 @amygdtjhddzvb @sfhsgrad-blog

[skyminsworld]

We are of Fire

Rhaenyra Targaryen x Oc Aelyx Targaryen

Rhaenyra Targaryen and her sister-wife Aelyx Targaryen stood on the windswept cliffs of Dragonstone, the ancestral seat of House Targaryen, where the great Valyrian lords had first settled after the Doom. The sky above was a tapestry of swirling gray clouds, reflecting the ancient magic that still lingered in the air, and the sea below roared its approval as waves crashed against the black stone of the island.

The ceremony was steeped in the traditions of Old Valyria, a tribute to their heritage and a reminder of the dragons’ might. Rhaenyra, with her silver-gold hair cascading down her back and her violet eyes shimmering with resolve, stood proud in a gown of red and white. Beside her, Aelyx, her sister-wife, matched her in a similar gown, their hands entwined in a bond stronger than the most unyielding Valyrian steel.

The ritual began at dusk, under the auspices of the Blood Moon, a celestial event said to bless the union of two souls destined for greatness. The High Valyrian words of the priestess echoed through the stillness, invoking the favor of the gods. "Jal Wun Azantys," she chanted, "by blood and fire."

Their dragons, Syrax and Vermithor, stood sentinel nearby, their eyes glowing like molten gold in the dim light. The presence of the dragons was vital, for they were not only mounts but symbols of the Targaryens' dominion and their unbreakable bond. As the ceremony progressed, the dragons roared in unison, sending chills down the spines of all present, a clear sign that the old gods were watching.

A sacred blade, forged in the fires of Dragonstone itself, was brought forth. Rhaenyra and Aelyx each pricked a finger, letting their blood mingle on the blade. "A binding of blood," the priestess intoned, "as it was in Valyria, so it shall be now." The blood was then mixed with fire, a small pyre lit by the dragonflame, representing the unity of their house and their shared destiny.

The final vows were taken in High Valyrian, their voices strong and unwavering despite the howling winds. "Nyke ēdrutas ao," Rhaenyra pledged, "I am yours." Aelyx responded, "Nyke ēdrutas ao," echoing the eternal promise. As the flames flared brighter, they clasped hands, their fingers stained with each other’s blood, and kissed, sealing their vows not only to each other but to the legacy they would forge together.

The feast that followed was a lavish affair, with roasted meats, exotic fruits, and the finest Dornish wines, a celebration worthy of their union. Songs of Old Valyria were sung, and the air was filled with laughter and the roar of dragons. In the great hall of Dragonstone, banners bearing the three-headed dragon of House Targaryen fluttered, illuminated by the flickering torchlight.

As the night drew on, Rhaenyra and Aelyx slipped away to the heights of Dragonstone, where they could be alone under the stars and moon up the sky. The future was uncertain, filled with both promise and peril, but in that moment, they were together, bound by ancient tradition and their indomitable will.

Thus, under the watchful eyes of their dragons and the ancient gods, Rhaenyra Targaryen and Aelyx Targaryen began their journey as sister-wives, their fates intertwined, their hearts aflame with the promise of the legacy they would create together.They knew what will come ,lots of hardship but they had each other

A promise of life ,once a dragon has it's treasure it will keep it to itself burning anyone who tries to steal what is rightfully theirs.

[peachesofteal]

HYPERVENTILATING FAE SOAP TELLS HIMSELF YOU DONT MEAN ANYTHING TO HIM BUT THEN EVERYBODY ELSE JUST WATCHES HIM FOLLOW HER AROUND LIKE A LOST PUPPY???

"You must care for her a great deal." Simon's wife muses from where she sits, nestled in the crook of the couch, knees tucked up near the swell of her belly. Simon says nothing, but they exchange a glance, two smiles that hold a secret, while Johnny waves his hand in the air errantly. "No. Absolutely not. It's that bloody spell... the binding. Dinnae mean anything." The words taste like ash on his tongue, sulfur and smoke, bitter and wrong while his mind strays to the memory of you from last night, eyes wide with wonder while you stared up at the sky. "I've never seen so many." "Stars?" "Planets." They don't have planets, in the mortal realm? He frowns. "Surely there are other planets besides your own?" "Yes, but not like this. There's... there's nothing, like this." Your lips part, throat bobbing with a breath and he feels a strange tightening his chest, a keen longing nestling behind his heart, as he watches you take it in. You look so amazed, so enchanted, so captivated by something he views so ordinary, that he too, tilts his head back to look up at the dizzying number of planets. Hundreds of worlds swirl in the inky darkness above them, their colors so vibrant they shine like gemstones, blinking in and out of the velvet backdrop that is the night sky. "There are so many worlds. So many places." you whisper to him, a smile full of awe sloping across your lips. "Do you go to them? These worlds?" "Some." "Some." you parrot. "Some." you laugh, like the notion is absurd, which it probably is, to you. Something inconceivable, improbable. "They're beautiful." Your hand raises to reach for them, as if you could pluck one right out of the night and hold it in your palm. He watches, entranced by the way the three moon's light shimmers across your face, bathing you in a purple silver glow, spilling over your shoulders and across your skin graciously, framing you like a star, a celestial being. His throat feels dry. "Aye. They are."

[bijouxcarys]

Celestial (Robert Plant x fem!OC)

Masterlist

Description: Our unnamed fem!OC has been following Robert Plant for weeks, pining for his attention, then vanishing in the night. And if she thinks he hasn't noticed... she's tremendously mistaken. MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!

From smut prompts: “Do you really think you’re in a position to give orders?” and “It’s my thigh or nothing. I’m not helping you get off.” + a request I recieved earlier in the year.

Word Count: 3.3k

Tags: @celestial-dragoness @callmethehunter @firethatgrewsolow

@dzdndcnfsd @angrychicksposts @tangerine1969

@chromations @inanebula @strsmn @m-faithfull @friccinfricks

In the hush of the night, she trailed his every move with a devotion akin to ancient mystics on a secretive quest, though no oracle had summoned her to this pursuit.

For weeks she danced on the edges of his world, a ghost in the tapestry of his existence. But as time wove its web, it became as clear as the moonlit sky that he had glimpsed her silent presence among the adoring faces in the front row.

It took courage, born of desperation and an unyielding desire, for her to approach him at last. With nothing worthy but the fabric of her shirt, she dared to ask for his signature backstage, where shadows whispered secrets to those who dared listen.

His hand obliged, the marker leaving its indelible mark upon the cotton canvas of her shirt. And yet, as swiftly as the ink parted fabric, she vanished into the night, a wraith of mystery.

But oh, how stubborn she proved to be. He had not foreseen the energy it would take to ensnare her, especially when other temptations beckoned with their siren songs. Yet, as the saying goes, the forbidden fruit is the sweetest.

To Robert Plant, however, she was not forbidden. She was a mystery waiting to be unravelled, a riddle to be solved. And he vowed, with a fierce determination that matched her own, that she would be his.

And so it was, amidst the throngs of admirers and the intoxicating swirl of music, that she appeared once more before him. A vision in the dim glow of stage lights, a flower clip securing tendrils of her hair as if to unveil the depths of her soul. Those eyes, like ancient pools of secrets, locked with his own, drawing him in like a moth to a flame.

Like always, the backstage labyrinth became their clandestine playground, a realm where time seemed to come to a halt amidst the chaos of the concert’s aftermath. As she stood before him, yet again, her presence a delicate balance of innocence and hidden desire, Robert couldn’t help but feel a surge of both frustration and exhilaration.

“Y’know,” he began, his voice a low rumble that echoed through the dimly lit corridor, “You’ve made this quite the chase, my dear. I’ve, ah… expended more energy tracking you down than I care to admit.”

Her eyes, wide and blissfully ignorant like a doe caught in headlights, met him with a bashful mischief. “I… didn’t mean to. I just wanted to… to see you up close,” she stammered, the words tumbling out in a rush. 

A smirk tugged at the corner of Robert’s lips, the lines of his face etched with the evidence of a long tour and a hunger that burned beneath the surface. “Well, you’ve certainly achieved that, eh?” he replied, his voice laced with a teasing edge. “But you must know, luv, that I don’t particularly take too well to be toyed with.”

Her cheeks flushed a shade of pink, the flower clip in her hair bearing more of a grip than it really was. “I-I’m sorry,” she murmured, her gaze flickering away before returning to meet him once more. “I, uh… I couldn’t… help myself. You’re,” she huffed out a nervous laugh, “You’re Robert Plant.”

The name hung in the air between them like a spell, a whisper of reverence and desire intertwined. Robert took a step closer, the heat of his body blatant against hers in the confined space he’d stopped her in. “And you,” he murmured in a husky whisper, “Are a mystery I’m determined to unravel.”

With a boldness that surprised them both, he reached out, his fingers grazing her cheek with a feather-light touch. She trembled beneath his hand, her breath catching in her throat as she leaned into his touch.

“Yer trouble, ya know that?” he asked with a crooked grin.

“I didn’t mean to be…”

How sweet, she actually thinks I’m serious.

Robert chuckled, running his fingers through the silky locks of her hair. “Hm, that may be the case, darlin’, but now you have my full, undivided attention…” he trailed off, lowering his gaze to her attire, before returning it to her face—she looked so pure, so elegant, so… innocent.

“If you don’t mean to be trouble, why come backstage again?” The question hung like a challenge, a daring invitation to honesty that left her scrambling for words.

Her mind raced, trying to grasp at any semblance of an explanation, but in the heat of his proximity, coherent thoughts seemed to slip through her fingers like sand. With a shaky breath, she fought to maintain eye contact, feeling the weight of his gaze bearing down on her.

She managed a shrug, hoping it would suffice, but he responded with a mocking one of his own, a smirk dancing on his lips. “You don’t know?” His tone was teasing, almost playful, though beneath the surface there was an undeniable edge.

“N–” she began, only to be cut off.

“‘Cause I think I know why you came back ‘ere, luv,” he said, his voice dropping to a low hum that sent a shiver down her spine. He leaned in closer, his body just inches from hers, and she could feel the heat radiating off him like a palpable force. “And it wasn’t to admire the breeze blocks,” he added, punctuating his words with a light slap on the wall beside her head. The sound echoed in the corridor, a sharp contrast to the racing of her heart.

His head dipped down, his lips hovering dangerously close to her as he whispered, “Am I right, darlin’?”

Her breath lodged itself in the confines of her throat, her heart pounding so loudly she was sure he could hear it. She swallowed hard, feeling the subtle shift of her body beneath her sundress betraying her with a slight tremble. She couldn’t deny the truth, not to herself and certainly not to him.

Of course she knew why she had come backstage again. It was to see him, to be near him, to feel the intoxicating pull of his presence. But to admit it out loud, to acknowledge the raw hunger coursing through her veins, was a different matter entirely.

Her voice was barely a whisper as she finally spoke, her words laced with a mixture of defiance and vulnerability. “Maybe,” she managed, her gaze flickering to his lips before meeting his intense gaze once more. “Maybe I just wanted… another look.”

The admission stunned the air between them, a fragile thread of understanding. She could see the glimmer of something primal and hungry in his eyes, one that easily sent her body into fits of goosebumps.

The tension between them remained thick and heady. She could feel how needy his aura was, the magnetic pull drawing them closer like two celestial bodies caught in each other’s orbit.

As his lips claimed hers in a barely-there kiss, she knew with a certainty that defined reason: she had come backstage for him, for this exact reason, for the intoxicating rush of passion that spilled from Robert Plant wherever he went.

The kiss was gentle. As if he was testing the waters, what he was allowed to do, and what she would take. And he hoped she’d take a lot tonight.

It lingered, like two hesitant teenagers engaging in a first-time endeavour—a delicious moment that left her breathless and craving more. As they finally pulled apart, a soft sigh escaping her lips, Robert’s gaze held hers with an intensity that made her feel exposed and vulnerable in the most delectable of ways.

He brushed his thumb gently across her cheek, his touch a soothing contrast to the fire raging within her. “Would you like to come back to the dressing room?” he asked lowly. “It’ll just be us two. Everyone else is probably drinking with G down the hall…”

The invitation was once in a lifetime. So many promises and possibilities. Too many to turn down the offer. The thought of being alone with him away from the charge of prying eyes and post-show chaos, sent a rush of excitement through her. Already, she was pulsating, soaked in her underwear… needy for him.

She nodded, her voice barely a whisper. “Yes, I’d like that…”

A smile tugged at his lips, satisfied at her answer. “Good,” he murmured, his hand sliding down to intertwine with hers as he led her down the corridor towards the private sanctuary.

The dressing room was dimly lit, residue of a white substance on the glass coffee table and at least six empty whiskey glasses beside an empty bottle of Jack Daniels. Crumpled up tin foil laid silently next to a box of matches and a zippo lighter, a worn plastic baggie thrown on top of the collection of paraphernalia as if to hide its presence. Rock ‘n’ fuckin’ roll…

“Not mine, by the way, in case yer wonderin’,” Robert pointed out once he noticed her curious gaze. “Maybe a couple of the glasses, but not…” he gave her an almost awkward smile to emphasise the obvious without having to say it.

Robert cleared his throat, closing the door behind them, shutting out the world with a decisive click. Turning to face her again, he took in the sight of her standing before him, bathed in the soft glow of the room. “Are you okay?” he asked, his voice a gentle caress that belied the dominant streak he had shown moments before. “Don’t want ya to feel pressured or anythin’, luv.”

A flush spread across her cheeks as she looked up at his piercing blue eyes, and nodded. “Yes… I’m fine. I want to be here,” she reassured him, appreciative of his care, even as the bulge in his jeans had stood more prominent now than it did during the concert.

“Good,” he said, his voice dropping back as he closed the distance between them. “Because I have a feeling we’re gunna have a lot of fun tonight, darlin’.”

He reclaimed her lips, this time in a more searing kiss, his hands roaming freely along her waist as he pulled her close. Her hands gripped onto his shirt, a dulled down version of the vibrant blouses he wore earlier into his career. Barely believing this was happening, she savoured the plush flesh pressing against hers, convincing herself that it was reality. She never thought that she would be in this position, only vouching for a glimpse across the hallway, or even another autograph if she was brave enough.

But now look at her. Wrapped up in the Golden God’s arms after causing him so much duress in trying to find her again. She really shouldn’t have been so evasive—but how was she to know? How was she to know that he would want her as much as she craved him?

Robert broke the kiss, only to trail more along her jawline and down her neck, his teeth nipping and sucking at her skin. She arched into his touch, her body aching as he teased and tormented her.

“Such a minx,” he growled huskily, backing her up until her legs hit the sofa behind her. Instead of pushing her down onto it, as she had anticipated, he spun them around and pulled her until she had to climb onto his lap. He could feel the heat between her legs as her sundress fanned out around them so beautifully. 

“To think you seem so innocent…” he breathed, palms squeezing at her hips once they’d slid under her dress. “Yet yer clearly so deliciously naughty…”

She rocked against him unintentionally, fingers gripping tightly onto his shoulders. Robert chuckled, encouraging her to continue with her movements upon noticing the flush of pink on her cheeks.

“Don’t act all shy now, darlin’,” he said, raising a suggestive eyebrow. “An’ ya can whimper all ya want, as lovely as it sounds…”

“B-But…” she stumbled on her words, earning nothing but his fingers digging into her thigh in return.

“Shh.” Despite his gentle hush, the fire behind his eyes made a steadfast return. “Tell me what ya want from me.”

She stared at him like a lost puppy, never having fully thought about what to say in this situation. After all, it was nothing but a wild fantasy up until now. What did she expect? She’d sought him out for weeks now, teasing him with her presence every night.

And she was about to get a taste of her own medicine. He’d make sure of it.

Just as she opened her mouth to speak, to give him the most heartfelt plea she could muster up, he cut her off again.

“What am I talkin’ about?” he laughed, almost mockingly. “Even if you did tell me…” He brought her down closer to him, one hand threading through her hair. “Do you really think you’re in a position to give orders? After all the work I’ve put into finding you?”

Her eyes, blown wide with lust, locked onto his. He’s exactly like I fantasised…

It was as if he could read her mind, the crooked smirk on his face deepening before he moved to part his legs, resulting in her straddling only one of his thighs. Those thighs. So snugly encompassed by the jeans he adorned. She rocked her hips gently, unable to resist the small friction against her clothed core.

“You can do better than that, surely,” Robert commented, noticing the shift of her body against him. She looked at him blankly, unsure why he was offering his leg when the bulge in his jeans was far more enticing. He chuckled at her confusion, finding it endearing. 

“Little girl… It’s my thigh or nothing. I’m not helping you get off. Not yet, anyway…”

What the fuck? The only phrase incessantly on repeat in her mind at that moment. He… wants me to what?

“You… I… What?” she stumbled, her knuckles paling at the grip she had on his shoulders—a clumsy hold.

Robert licked his lips, deciding to help her along by shifting his leg under her. He saw as her eyes hooded, threatening to close completely as she fought to maintain eye contact.

“There, darlin’,” he grumbled, head resting back against the sofa. “Feels good, eh?” He punctuated his lurid question with another shift against her clothed core. The breath in her chest jammed in her throat, choking out the faintest grunt. “Ya like that, luv?”

Brows furrowing, the pink on her cheeks dangerously teetering on a glow, she nodded.

“Then keep goin’,” he encouraged, large palms stroking along the sides of her plush thighs before emphasising his instruction with a squeeze. Much to his satisfaction, she caught on—fast—as she started to rock her hips steadily against his thigh.

The foreign act had her momentarily frigid, but as the friction of her underwear dragged over her soaked folds, all notions of timidity started to fade; the need to chase a release became far too weighty for her to think about anything else.

Robert noticed. Oh, boy, did he notice.

She looked so otherworldly, focusing on bringing herself to the edge, using him as a mere object for her pleasure. There was something extremely sadomasochistic about Robert at times like these; whilst she made use of something as trivial as a limb, it was only on his say so.

Besides, being able to physically see the need and craving in these women he came across so often was nothing short of rewarding, in and of itself.

“There ya go, darlin’,” Robert groaned with an air of smugness once he felt her shudder. She still had a while to go before she could come undone just by gyrating against his jeans, but he knew that she was immersed enough to start whimpering. And whimper, she did.

With a shaky sigh, she ground her hips harder into his thigh as she started to throb and clench around nothing. 

“Let me help you a bit, beautiful,” he whispered, unable to keep his hands to himself as he brought one round to slide between her thighs. Fingers prodded at her underwear, before she allowed him to push the fabric to the side. Her movements stopped for a moment whilst he very lightly swiped the pad of his index finger along her weeping core, collecting nectar along the way.

“Oh, you’re so wet, baby,” he practically moaned, smirking up at her cockily before bringing his finger up to his lips and giving himself a taste. “Mm, can’t wait to taste you properly, darlin’," he hummed. “Now,” he breathed, taking a hold of her hips tightly with an almost needy resolve. “You make yerself cum like this and I’ll make sure you get the whole… rock ‘n’ roll experience, yeah?”

Words eluded her, but she managed a small hum of agreement, her fingers gripping at his shoulders as though she was on the precipice of being flung off a cliff.

“Aw, you’re so cute,” Robert purred, before suddenly yanking her hips forward, causing her now bare core to drag lewdly across the material of his jeans. She gasped, bucking her hips forwards.

“Fuck,” she whispered, a steady breath releasing from her parted lips.

“Ye, it feels good, doesn’t it, luv?” He watched her face with extreme intent as he guided her into a pace that had her rolling her body against him. He could feel her juices soaking him, drenching right down to the skin under his trousers.

“R-Robert…” she whined, grinding down hard enough for her clit to brush against him. 

“That’s it, baby, keep going…” He dropped his head, dragging his lips across her collarbone. 

By now, she couldn’t care less about how pathetic she may have looked, getting herself off on the thigh of Robert Plant. It felt so good. Too good. 

He felt her form tremble, stiffening on occasion. Her breathing came in short gasps, tickling the plush surface of his lips as he gazed up at her with those big blue eyes. Robert’s hands worked with her movements, ensuring a steadfast release.

“Oh my G-God… Robert, I’m–”

“Do it,” he hummed against her lips, teasing her with the promise of a kiss, but denied her the full satisfaction. “Then I can take you back to the hotel. And make you cum again…” He lifted his leg up a small amount, her pulsating core flush against him. “And again…” He sucked at her lower lip, biting onto it gently as she finally shuddered, upper body jarring and careening towards him. Moaning out his name in worship. “And again,” he smirked, wrapping his arms completely around her waist.

“There you go,” he talked her through her release, her eyes shut and her skin flushed red. “That’s a good girl… Ride it out, darlin’, make it feel so good,” he whispered. “Hmm, can’t wait to see how you look sitting on my cock…” His crude words sent another jolt through her and her head finally fell forwards, letting it rest on his shoulder as he cradled her. Nose nuzzling her hair, he inhaled deeply, catching her floral scent with a satisfied hum. 

Eventually, he caressed the back of her head and pulled back to look up at her. “How was that, luv?”

Judging by her dazed expression, and the lust that remained full-blown in her eyes, he couldn’t help the cocky pride that overtook him.

“Mm, good,” she barely murmured.

“I could tell,” he chuckled, moving her hair out of her face. “Y’ready to head back?”

With a nod, she clasped her fingers around the back of his neck, prepared to fall into the world she’d only ever dreamed of being a part of.

Long live rock ‘n’ fuckin’ roll.

[dawneternal]

Starfall Guest

✷ Azriel x OC

✷ Summary: Something unusual drops from the sky on Starfall. A messenger with a threat and a promise.

I wrote this for @starfallweek for the prompt 'Character A is a fallen star. Character B finds them.'

I'm not sure if I like it or not, but hopefully you do lol I know a tiny bit about Crescent City but I've never read it so none of this is supposed to be related to that/canon compliant:)

Calytrix is pronounced cal-uh-trix (meaning: star-flower)

✷ Listen to City of Starlight by Taylor Ash

✷ Word Count: 4.9k

✷ Warnings: None

✷ Ao3 Link

This year would be the first Starfall celebration at the River House. The view at the House of Wind was still objectively better, but it would be easier to wrangle Nyx here with all of the childproof wards built in. It would be a house warming of sorts, Rhys said. 

They had spared no expense, setting up the back lawn with tables, chairs, blankets, trays of foods and star-themed decorations, bottles and bottles of champagne. All of it was beautiful. All of it was perfect. Rhys and Feyre leaned into each other, holding little Nyx between them as they gazed up at the night sky and waited for the stars to appear. 

Still, Azriel could not help the ache in his chest. The chasm of loneliness, opened wide by the sight of all the couples curled up together. He sat alone, ignoring the dark clouds gathering in his mind. He’d let it catch up to him later when he was by himself. He'd let it consume him for a while and then pull himself together before morning.

The crowd around him let out a collective gasp as the first star fell, hurtling towards the earth and falling into the sea with a strange sizzling sound. It was different to see it up close and not from the view of the balconies. Closer, you could see a ring of stardust coat the surface of the water where the thing had landed. The churning of the waves spread the shimmering color further over the water, illuminated by the moon. The whole sea was gilded. Luxurious.

Azriel settled into himself, glass of champagne in hand, and watched the streaks of metallic light paint the sky. An odd sensation joined the longing in his chest, something akin to anticipation. 

Like the hiss of a matchstick before the flame sparks to life. The glow of his siphons before a blast of power. 

His shadows began to dart back and forth, as if they felt it too. He looked around for anything amiss, but everything was as usual. Party goers laughing and whispering and gasping, dodging the bits of star that fell on the lawn. 

Azriel turned his gaze to the sky, squinting as he searched for something out of the ordinary. There was something unordinary there. One star, bigger and brighter than the rest, falling far slower than any star ever had. He watched as it dropped, blinking and flailing, surrounded by an aura of changing celestial color. He looked over his shoulder at Rhys and saw the High Lord watching the same object with pursed lips, clutching an awe-filled Nyx in his arms. This was something new. 

When the odd light was in range, his shadows darted out to meet it. Azriel set his glass on a tray in the grass, preparing to stand. 

A woman. A star. The shadows whispered in his ear. He wasn’t entirely sure what that meant. But the whole lot of them rushed away again as if they hoped to catch her. He wondered if a person could survive that kind of fall. Then he broke into a run, weaving through blankets and bodies toward the sea. 

“Azriel!” Rhys’s voice called to him, but he didn’t stop. 

The grass gave way to sand then rock, the waves lapping gently on the shore and leaving glowing stardust behind. As he neared the edge of the water, he could see how limp the being was, falling with no resistance. They were too far over the water for him to reach, but he pulled off his boots anyways and tugged off his shirt in case he needed to go in. His shadows swirled underneath the plummeting body, but she fell through them like they were nothing. Her body hit the water with a sickening splash, a layer of glimmering color left behind just like the other stars. 

Azriel paced over the rocky shore, waiting for a head to appear above the water, the echo of that splash replaying over and over as his heart beat against his ribs. 

Then he heard the familiar snap of winnowing, and that shimmering being was kneeling on the beach a few feet away, hands braced before her as she choked and heaved. She looked like a piece of the night sky itself. 

Her skin was deep blue, covered in swirls of gold and silver. Elaborately woven braids of deep violet draped over her shoulders, dripping ocean water over her naked form.

“Are you alright?” Azriel crouched beside her, pebbles digging into his bare feet. Closer, he realized that the outline of her body was transient, moving in a slow pattern like smoke floating through the air. She was not covered in stardust, but made of it. The ends of her braids flowed into nothingness, dissipating into the night as particles of violet. 

She looked up as he spoke, bright eyes meeting his. They could have housed an entire galaxy in their depth. Indigo, purple, gold, and silver swirled like pools of water, flecked with stars. The shadowsinger found himself a little awestruck. His shadows enveloped her, looking for any more information to give their master, but they would only tell him the same thing as before. A woman, a star.

“I need to speak to the High Lord of the Night Court,” She spoke, her voice deep and raspy. It sent a pleasant shiver down his spine. 

“Why?” His brow furrowed. She had nothing on her, no weapons, no magical items, not even clothes. But if she could winnow, she had other powers.

“Is this the Night Court?” She asked instead of answering, pushing off the ground and attempting to stand. Her legs were wobbly and she stumbled forward onto her knees once more. Azriel grabbed his shirt from the grass and held it out to her. She tried again and managed to stand this time, though her limbs trembled.

“What is that?” She asked him, staring at the cloth in his hand. 

“You’re…naked?” Azriel swallowed, keeping his eyes on her and not the glittering curves of her body. The woman looked down and pursed her lips, as if mildly annoyed by this realization. She took it from him and slipped it over her head. She was much smaller than him, the t-shirt falling to her knees. 

“I need to speak to the High Lord of the Night Court,” She said again, rising to her full height.

Rhys, it’s a woman. Azriel spoke into his mind, remembering his brother existed. 

Enamored was not strong enough a word for what he was feeling. She exuded night in the same way that Rhys did, such cunning grace and soft beauty. All with a threat underneath. Rhys appeared with a snap, expression smoothed over into the mask of the High Lord. He studied the being before him with his hands in his pockets. 

“High Lord,” The woman’s eyes widened and she bowed, braids falling in a curtain around her face. Her voice was like personified darkness.

Azriel and Rhys shared a look, wondering how she possibly recognized him. 

“Please,” Rhysand said, and she straightened. “Are you hurt from the fall?” 

“No,” She shook her head, taking a step toward him. Azriel tensed, hands curling into fists. “Please, High Lord, I have something important to tell you.”

“I’d rather you introduce yourself first,” Rhysand drawled, still studying her, “Forgive me, but I am finding this meeting a bit strange. You don’t seem to be from this…area.” 

The woman nodded her head, and the brothers watched as her form changed. Her skin became solid, a rich shade of brown, free of stardust. Her hair remained violet but now appeared tangible, no longer flowing like a waterfall. In this form her ears were pointed like Rhys’s. She looked like another fae now, save for the galaxy in her eyes. 

“My name is Calytrix. I come from a celestial realm. My father is King Izar and a few weeks ago he made a deal that threatens your court.” 

Rhysand and Azriel shared another look. 

Then Rhysand reached for Calytrix’s arm and they were winnowing. Calytrix squealed, reaching toward the High Lord as they fell through the air. Rhys's wings flared out and he caught her in his arms, slowing his descent toward the balcony. Azriel was close behind, and he could see Cassian and Feyre in this distance flying toward them.

Calytrix shoved away from Rhys when they landed, stumbling once more to her knees and drawing in deep breaths. 

“Apologies,” Rhys said, shoving his hands into his pockets again, striding past her into the House.

Azriel grasped her arm and helped her up, ignoring the sparks under his skin as they connected. He followed the High Lord and led her into the dining room. Rhysand sat at the head of the table and gestured for her to sit. She took a spot beside him, looking a little more wary as she looked around the grand room. 

The glass doors opened again and Feyre nodded as she entered, saying nothing as she sat across from the strange woman. Azriel and Cassian remained standing, the former beside Rhsyand and latter beside the High Lady. 

“Princess Calytrix, this is my wife, Feyre,” Rhys gestured to his stony-faced mate, “Now please, continue your story.” 

Calytrix’s gaze swept over each figure. She had become surrounded before it could even register, and she assumed that they had done this on purpose. The four of them stared at her, unrelenting. 

“As I said,” Calytrix swallowed, “I came here to warn you. My father made a deal with a death god that threatens your court.” 

“What deal?” Rhysand demanded. 

He conjured a pitcher of water and poured a glass for each of them. Calytrix didn’t take it, keeping her eyes on the raven-haired man beside her. He seemed as though he wanted to trust her, but he was holding back. She’d anticipated this, and she hoped her idea would be enough for him to trust her. 

“My father offered soldiers in exchange for territory in this realm whenever Koschei has gained control. Night Court territory.”

A jaw in Rhysand’s muscle twitched, the only reaction he’d allow to show. Azriel felt his stomach drop at the mention of Koschei. His blood ran cold.

“How has Koschei managed to establish contact with other realms?” He asked, voice firm. 

“I do not know that, my Lord,” Calytrix shook her head, “Only that my father speaks to him through an enchanted object that he keeps hidden.” 

“And why do you come here, princess? What do you gain from exposing your father’s secrets?” He countered, sitting back with his arms crossed. 

She looked so small in her chair, draped in Azriel’s shirt. The shadowsinger remembered her body hitting the water and a thread of sympathy wound through his chest. But he kept his expression neutral and said nothing.

“I believe Koschei is using my father,” She said, averting her gaze to the marble table and the crystal glass before her, “A King in our realm tried to occupy land here before, but our types of magic are incompatible and it did not end well. I believe my father has sacrificed a great number of soldiers for no gain. He will destroy our kingdom and your court.” 

She shifted in her seat, skin flushing as she said the next words, “And I have studied the Night Court extensively. I consider myself…a fan. I do not wish to see it destroyed.” 

“How are you here?” Feyre asked, her voice soft, “If the magic is incompatible?” 

“The gates are open on this night,” She said, “As the stars travel through the realms. And I come as a visitor. I won’t try to claim anything as my own.” 

“What are they?” Rhsyand blurted, his eyes gleaming. The conflict was momentarily forgotten as the answer to his centuries old question came within reach. “The stars?”

“I’m afraid I don’t have an answer for you, my Lord,” Calytrix smiled at his eagerness, “They are a mystery to us as well.” 

Then she stood, ignoring the warriors tensing as she took a step toward Rhysand. 

“I understand my words may be hard to believe,” She began, drawing herself up again to her full height, “I have read about the customs of the Night Court and I am prepared to offer a bargain in exchange for your trust. I believe this ordeal with the death god will harm my people just as much as yours. I have much to gain from your trust.” 

“What bargain?” Rhysand asked, tilting his head to the side. His violet eyes locked onto hers, some familiar thread of magic seeming to sing between them. Like calling to like.

“If anything I have told you proves to be untrue, I will owe you my firstborn son.” 

Cassian coughed and Azriel’s eyes widened. He searched Calytrix’s face, but she was utterly serious. 

“Princess,” Rhysand sputtered, “I hardly have use for your firstborn son.” 

“Well I don’t have one yet,” Calytrix said, shifting her weight as she noted the amused half-smiles, “It would be a promise. I understand that these bargains are very serious.” 

“I have a better idea,” Rhysand said, biting back a laugh, “If you allow me to, I can use my power to look into your mind and read your intentions.”

Calytrix went still. Her eyes shifted ever so slightly toward the shadowsinger, wondering if the High Lord would be able to see her admiration for his warrior. For the beautiful figure that had been stuck in her mind since he’d found her on the beach. Far more beautiful than she believed the people in this realm could be. 

No one saw that glimpse, except for Rhysand, of course. 

“I’ll make you a bargain,” Rhysand said, his expression softening. She was young, likely no older than Feyre or her sisters. She was brave to come here. “If you show me the truth, I will not intrude on any private thoughts.” 

Calytrix nodded, lips pursed. She went stiff  as she felt his onyx claws scrape against her mind, eyes shutting tight. Azriel winced, swallowing the impulse to comfort her. No matter his intentions, it never felt good to have Rhys search your mind. 

The High Lord sorted through her thoughts, evidently hitting a sore spot when Calytrix let out a choked whimper. Rhysand pulled away, his face grim. It was not often he enjoyed that task. 

“She tells the truth,” He announced. Calytrix heaved a sigh and slumped in her chair. 

“Your father doesn’t know you’re here,” Rhysand said carefully, brow furrowing. 

“No,” She chewed her lip. 

“How can we keep you safe, then?” 

“I…was hoping to stay for tonight,” Calytrix said sheepishly, staring down at her hands in her lap, “And then I’ll go back and tell him I was kidnapped. He’d never guess I would come here.”

“Don’t you need to go back while the gates are open?” Feyre asked. 

“Not if you have an Astraeus Ruby,” Calytrix shrunk into herself. Rhysand stared at her for a moment.

“Indeed I do,” His lips twitched up into a smile, “You have done your research well.”

“I don’t like it,” Azriel spoke for the first time since the beach. All heads snapped towards him, reminding him that he was still barefoot and shirtless. Feyre's eyes flicked over him with curiosity. He kept his expression firm, unmoving. 

“There’s too many variables. What if the King guesses where you’ve gone? What if he sends someone after you? What if Koschei knows you’re here? I don’t think you should wait.” 

Rhysand thought he saw Calytrix’s shoulders fall, just slightly. As if the shadowsinger’s words disappointed her. 

“I can’t go back tonight,” She swallowed hard, “I snuck out before the party began, but the gate is in the grand room and they would all see my return. The party likely won’t even end until tomorrow midday. I tried to put a spell on myself so Koschei could not track me, but I do not mind if you would like to check it over.” 

“Will they notice you’re not at the party?” Rhys asked. Calytrix pursed her lips again and said nothing. They took that as a yes. 

The room fell into silence, each lost in thought. Azriel was kicking himself for making his attachment known. He should not care so much for this star girl, so shy and yet so brave. But he was drawn to her, like a planet in her orbit. 

“We’ll figure something out in the morning,” Rhysand said softly, “For now, Feyre will show you to a guest room and find you some clothes. You’re welcome to rejoin our party if you wish, or rest if you need it. And tomorrow,” 

Rhys paused and flashed a wry smile at Azriel, a mischievous glimmer in his eyes, “Azriel will give you a tour of Velaris.” 

Azriel opened his mouth to protest, but Feyre was already whisking Calytrix away. The princess looked back at him with eyes alight and eager hope written clearly across her face.

So, he found himself nodding, offering her a small smile. And elbowing Cassian in the ribs as his brother giggled.

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

Azriel waited on the balcony, bouncing on his toes in an attempt to rid his body of nervous energy. He had been up early to meet with Rhysand, Cassian, and Feyre. The best they had come up with was sending the princess home with a way to contact them. If she needed some sort of evidence to aid her alibi, they would provide it. 

Rhysand had checked over her spell and found it to be solid. No one would be able to track her. And since her father had no inkling of her plan, they should have a long while before he thought of searching other realms. Thus, she would stay for today and leave tonight at nightfall. Her tour of Velaris was the only gift Rhysand could give her for her bravery.

It made Azriel nervous, sending her back all alone with no protection, even if she insisted that she could take care of herself. Her skill with magic had admittedly impressed them all. But he was still worried and that made him wonder why he cared so much. He couldn't explain it.

The glass doors opened and Calytrix appeared, shaking the shadowsinger from his spiraling thoughts. She wore a Night Court outfit, flowy lilac pants and a cropped shirt with sheer sleeves. The colors suited her well, complimenting her hair and bringing out the warm tones of her skin. She had arranged her braids in a bun on top of her head, held in place with a piece of lilac silk. And Feyre must have gifted her earrings, sparkling amethyst tear drops. 

Azriel found himself staring, gaze drifting over the curves of her body, her generous hips and exposed stomach. 

“How do I look?” She flashed him a shy smile and turned in a little circle, ending with a flourish.

“Lovely,” Azriel breathed, his voice cracking, “You're a vision.”

He scolded himself internally one more time and cleared his throat. 

“I thought we'd start with a snack and a coffee, how does that sound?” 

Her eyes lit up, the stars and swirls glowing with excitement. 

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

Azriel was a fool. He should have known from the first time she had locked eyes with him that he would never quite recover. The hold that she had on him left something behind that he would never be able to get rid of. 

He was falling harder with every moment they spent together. Every tiny thing she revealed about herself knit into a story he was desperate to hear more of. Her eagerness to learn more about the night court, excitement over new things he showed her, her kindness to everyone she encountered. She seemed to trust him completely, blindly following him through the city.

He’d almost laughed when she pulled out a notebook and began taking notes in the cafe, writing down the name of the coffee and pastries he’d ordered. But he’d swallowed it down, not wanting her to think he was making fun of her. 

She was as curious about his shadows as she was the city. Every time they ventured close, she held out a hand. Some of them shied away and some of them wound around her fingers. She told him that the feel of them was similar to running a hand through a nebula.

Next, Azriel took her to the aviary, drinking in her delighted laughter as she chased and studied the colorful birds. 

“You don’t have an aviary in your city?” He asked, when they’d sat down for a break. Side by side under a willow tree filled with singing birds and fluttering wings. It was one of his favorite places in Velaris.

���Maybe,” She said, her gaze following the little creatures, “My father is very strict and protective. I don’t get out much.”

“I suppose that explains your eagerness to see the city,” He said, watching her as she watched the birds. 

“How could I not be eager?” She smiled, “When the secret of the city was revealed a few years ago, the whole world had questions. Now I've seen it, and I might even be able to write up a paper and get it published.” 

“You’re a writer, then?” Azriel asked. It made sense now, the grandiosity with which she described things. How desperately and diligently she wrote down every detail.

“Under an alias,” She met his eyes and he swooned all over again, “I spend a lot of time in our library since it’s one of the few places my father considers safe for me.” 

“Do you know much about the Day Court?” He asked, tilting his head to the side. She looked back down at her notebook, suddenly shy. 

His whole body itched with the desire to fly her to the Day Court right then. He would plant himself by her side as she skimmed every single book in the court and he would be sustained by her joy alone.

“Not much,” She confessed, “I must admit that my fascination with the Night Court has become a bit of an obsession over the past couple years.” 

“They have hundreds of libraries there,” Azriel said, eyes twinkling. Her face lit up, as predicted. “You could spend an eternity there, I’d imagine.”

“With a friend to keep me cnompany, I suppose I could,” She dared to look at him again, letting her gaze linger. Her eyes flicked down to his lips for a split second. 

Before he could register, she was standing, tucking her notebook back into her bag. It did not escape him the way her fingers trembled as she did so. 

“Where next, tour guide?” 

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

Their tour definitely stretched a bit longer than what Rhysand had in mind, but Azriel could not bring himself to give her up. Calytrix did not seem eager to end their tour, either. At first the shadowsinger was certain it was only due to her research, but then she had worked up the courage to touch him. 

She’d grasped his wrist and let out an excited sound when she’d laid eyes on the collector's section of his favorite book shop. Azriel swore his soul left his body. But then she did it again, brushing arms with him as they walked together. When he took her to the Sidra so she could dip her feet in the water, she grasped his hands for balance and didn’t let go for a long time. 

Azriel felt like he was glowing. Like basking in her presence had woven his entire being with threads of her stardust. He would search the whole of Prythian for every Astraeus Ruby if it meant he had the chance to see her again. The looming goodbye tasted bitter, growing heavier as the sun reached toward the horizon. 

“Have you had a good visit, princess?” He asked softly as they sat back on the balcony at the House of Wind. 

They sat side by side again, legs dangling over the edge, almost close enough for their shoulders to connect. Only the anticipation of that touch between them. 

“Are you kidding me?” She grinned, leaning her temple against the railing as she looked at him, “I’ve toured the entire city, met the High Lord and Lady, and I made a real Night Court bargain.” 

“That wasn’t a real bargain,” Azriel’s lips twitched up into a smile, “He was being nice. If it had been a real one, you’d have a tattoo.” 

Her eyes widened, flashing with something wild and determined.

“Make me a bargain,” She breathed, “I want a tattoo.” 

“Is that a good idea?” Azriel’s eyebrows shot upwards. “Won’t your father see it?” 

“Only when I’m in my fae form,” She said, grin growing with excitement, “Which only happens on special occasions. I’ll be so careful.” 

“Okay,” Azriel chuckled, “What kind of deal can I offer you?” 

Then she was quiet for a moment, staring at him. Deep in thought as the galaxies in her eyes whirled. Her smile faded and her breath quickened, and Azriel felt his own chest flutter in response.

“I want you to kiss me,” She whispered, eyes searching his, “If you kiss me, I’ll promise to come back next Starfall.” 

Azriel’s heart leapt in his throat. This was probably a bad idea. Rhysand would never approve of it. The kiss, the tattoo, his lovesick stupor after only one day of knowing her. But he heard himself answer anyways,

“Yes.” 

She leaned toward him, grasping handfuls of his shirt as his own hands reached to hold her face. They fit together so neatly, so comfortably. Calytrix leaned ever closer, tucking herself into his hold, and brought her lips to his. Her skin was so soft under his fingers, thumbs brushing over her cheekbones as he kissed her. 

The bitterness grew to an ache, and then to a sharp pain erupting with sparks. A lump rose in Azriel’s throat as she tilted her head to kiss him deeper, lips brushing over his with such sweet reverence. 

He had to give her up, send her back to the skies. This wonderful thing between them would cease. She made a sound against his mouth and he pulled back, frowning at the sadness written in her expression.

“What’s wrong?” He whispered, not letting go yet. She didn’t let go either, running her knuckles along his collarbone. 

“I don’t want to go,” She croaked. “For so many reasons.”

Her eyes dropped from his face, pulling his shirt down farther to reveal the shooting star now inked on his chest. She released one hand and pulled down her own collar to see the matching tattoo. 

“At least you have something to remember me by,” He smiled softly. 

She shifted closer to rest her head on his shoulder, relishing the warmth of his body. They stayed like that until footsteps in the distance drove them apart. The High Lord appeared between the glass doors.

“It’s time to go,” Rhysand said softly, Astraeus Ruby in hand, “Feyre sends her regrets that she can’t see you off, but our son is throwing an especially spirited tantrum at the moment.”

“That’s alright,” Calytrix smiled as she stood, “But please, thank her for her hospitality.” 

“Of course,” Rhysand handed her the gem, a blood red crystal that looked particularly delicate. Flecks of glowing silver danced inside it.

Calytrix pulled the scarf from her hair and shifted forms again, umber skin replaced by swirling cobalt dust. As she had said, the tattoo was never to be seen on her celestial form. 

She said nothing more to Azriel, only held out the slip of purple silk for him to take. He grasped it with gentle fingers, rubbing his scarred thumb over the soft fabric. 

“Please do not hesitate to tell us if you need anything,” Rhysand bowed his head, “We are grateful for your help and we will contact you as soon as we have decided our next move.”

“Thank you, High Lord,” She said, voice trembling. 

She turned back once more to the shadowsinger and held his gaze as she placed the ruby on the ground. She raised her foot and crushed it under her shoe. Instantly, blue light burst from the shards and reached toward the sky in a wide beam. 

In the last second before the light carried her into the night, her eyes widened, lips parting, as she stared at Azriel.  A hand reached out of the beam but it did not reach him before the magic pulled her away.

Then both the light and the shards disappeared and Calytrix was gone. 

Rhysand stared for a moment at the spot where she’d been, reminded of a similar moment so long ago. He glanced at the shadowsinger, cautiously, but Azriel was oblivious. He stared up at the stars, holding the lilac silk in his hands. 

So, Rhysand said nothing, heart aching for this brother.

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

Azriel woke in the middle of the night to a snap, a flash of light visible from behind his closed eyes. He shot upright in bed, shadows darting out to assess the threat. 

They found nothing, save for the folded note on his nightstand. The paper was deep blue, translucent and cool like the misty touch of his shadows. He opened it and found written in gold ink, 

See you next starfall, my mate.

Your star,

Calytrix

[anonymocha]

Bonne Nuit • Voyager x Medicine Pocket

“Bon voyage, they told her before she left… When I met her, I wished her sweet dreams with this piece.”

Synopsis — Voyager comforts the weary and insomniac Medicine Pocket with a secret lullaby she composed for her first earth friends.

Words — 2.3K including the bonus scene.

CWs — References to animal space programs.

A/N — Pure fluff!!! + In this fic, it is suggested that they already have an established relationship. It could be interpreted as romantic or not. Up to the reader, really. Also it contains my headcanon that Medpoc is a dog caretaker.

Last night wasn't a good night for the young researcher.

Enduring a tedious three-hour youth meeting at Laplace was bad enough, but it was followed by a private lecture filled with the same complaints they heard for years, endlessly repeated for a whole hour. Frustrated thoughts swirled in their mind — Decrepit old rats who fail to understand their work should just shut the fuck up, they think. The only thing preventing them from barking back was sheer exhaustion. The fatigue had caught up with them, otherwise they may have bitten someone, really.

The complaints themselves weren't the issue; The real problem lies in how they just wasted their damn time. They could have returned to the suitcase and done their own thing much earlier if only they hadn't been forced to endure the droning of old-timers. By the time they attempted to rest, they were too weary to sleep, resigning themselves to working on obligatory papers through the night... Yet achieving almost nothing by morning. The sense of frustration lingered - more precious time wasted.

…Perhaps it's a call to sleep. Or at least, they should try.

Medicine Pocket stifled a yawn as they wandered through the corridors of the suitcase. The early hour ensured that the halls were deserted, providing a rare moment of solitude. Despite the lack of activity, they still sought out a secluded corner where they could be undisturbed for a while.

As they made mindless beelines around the suitcase's main building, they couldn't help but catch a faint sound. To be precise, music. A very familiar tune played with a very familiar instrument. The violin. Accompanied by the sound of… pups? Wait, they recognize those barks! Those are their pups!!!

Medicine Pocket followed the sounds. Their exhaustion was momentarily forgotten as curiosity piqued their interest. As they rounded a corner, they were met with… Quite the sight.

Dappled sunlight poured through the windows, casting a soft glow upon the scene unfolding before the young researcher's eyes. There on the floor, in an isolated corner of the suitcase, sat Voyager, her slender frame illuminated by the morning light as she delicately wielded her violin. Beside her, their puppies frolicked and danced to the sweet strains of her music, their tails wagging with unabashed joy.

Her eyes were closed, a serene smile gracing her lips as she lost herself in the piece. Her glimmering hair would catch the sunlight in a subtle gleam of colors and bloom, akin to a celestial halo. The alien visitor was playing Bach’s “Jesu, Joy of Man’s Desiring”, a quite popular classical piece but fitting for this moment. With the beagles frolicking playfully around her. They would catch her giggling when one of the puppies tried to climb onto her lap. Cute…

As they stood there, silently observing, one of the pups perked up when it caught eye of them. It immediately rushed to their feet, its tail wagging furiously as it bounded toward Medicine Pocket with unrestrained excitement. The others followed suit, their playful barks filling the air as they said hi to their beloved caretaker.

Caught off guard by the sudden attention, Medicine Pocket crouched down to greet their furry companions, a tired smile tugging at the corners of their lips. Despite the exhaustion weighing heavily upon them, the attention of their beloved pups filled them with a sense of warmth and comfort.

Voyager stopped playing, a gasp escaping her lips as she opened her eyes, her gentle gaze locking onto the newcomer with a mixture of surprise and delight. The music faded into silence as she watched them interact with their puppies, a smile of awe tugging at her lips. Voyager’s violin and bow vanished into thin air before she greeted Medicine Pocket with her usual cheerful wave, accompanied by a giggle. A truly pleasant sound.

They’re showered by the puppies’ licks and pawing but they manage to return her greeting with a weary but genuine grin.

Noticing their tiredness, she gestured at her own lap, patting them. They know what it meant, they’ve been here before. She’s offering them comfort as she did many times before. Despite her silence, Voyager is incredibly caring and observant. Not to mention a great listener, and an even better secret keeper. She’s the only one they could trust to stay by their side through the most risky and taboo self-experiments. The only one allowed to see that side of theirs. And the only one to hold their hand through it all. Especially since she revealed glimpses of her nature several times too. They know what lies under the mask of this ‘girl’. And they adore her for that.

That said, they are close enough to her to lay their head on her lap.

With one pup held closely to their chest, another also on Voyager’s lap right next to their head, and the others scattered around them, they sighed contentedly. She smiled at them as she gazed down, a smile they’d seen many times, a smile that never fails to ease them. The soothing floral fragrance of her uniform and hair, added by the scent of the sun and freshly washed dogs, was a great change in comparison to Laplace’s clinical, chemical, and antiseptic-riddled atmosphere.

Delicate fingers traced their scalp as Voyager carefully untucked the scissors from their hair, causing their locks to fall loose. She set it aside before returning to pat them. Her other hand lingers on the pup snuggling on their torso, also patting the little guy. Their gloved hand would join her, caressing the pup’s back. It barked with soft glee at the attention.

“Mmh… You took care of the puppies while I was away, didn’t you?… I didn’t ask you to. But thank you. Daisy smells great for once,” they finally spoke out, their voice thick with gratitude and fatigue.

She nodded, giggling again. Her other hand, the one that had been patting them, suddenly moved towards their face, gently caressing their cheek. A gesture that is a bit surprising. Medicine Pocket blinked at the sudden change of pace. Her hand was so smooth and warm. It was a good kind of surprise.

Their eyes closed, leaning to the touch. They sighed once again, their lips tugging into a soft smile. “I hate everyone at Laplace. I missed my friends. I missed you, too. I kind of wished we could go on an outing this morning but I… Urgh… I’m so fucking tired. I can’t sleep either… It’s just… Damn it.”

Voyager listened attentively as always. She gave their cheek another pat before moving to the top of their head, gently stroking their messy locks. A gentle signal to ‘go on’. One they understood since they confided in her countless times before.

They chuckled and obliged. “I had to endure those damn old people yapping about the same shit again. It was a waste of time. I could have been doing other things. I could have finished my projects, you know? It was so damn annoying. I wanted to leave but… They kept me there because they told me it’s good for me. They’re probably jealous of me, right? I can bet that it is. Hah! They wished they have my guts to do the things I do. They would still say things like age doesn’t matter, but continue to think they know better than me. It pisses me off… They also made me do some papers. What’s the point of research papers really? The results are right there! I…” they continued to ramble on.

The alien visitor simply sat there and listened. Her hands still moved in soothing, repetitive motions. The puppies have also joined in the soothing, providing comfort in their own ways, like snuggling and nuzzling. They can feel their own breathing calming, the tension in their body loosening. They didn't realize it earlier. Their rambling was a way for them to let go of their pent-up frustrations, allowing their mind to settle down and their body to relax.

A long pause fell over them. A sigh escaped their lips. They then looked up at her and said, “...I'm sorry. I was rambling. I think… I really need to sleep.”

“Ah!” Voyager’s eyes widened as if a lightbulb flashed in her head.

“Hm?” Medicine Pocket looked at her curiously.

She smiled at them, materializing her violin and bow in her hands. Before they could say anything, she spoke. Her voice was barely above a whisper. Yet it was loud and clear enough for them to hear.

“I think… I want to share a new secret with you,” she began.

Her words surprised them. She never initiated any topic of conversation before. It's always them who start talking about themselves and the things they did. It's a bit jarring, but not unwelcome.

Their eyes remained fixed on her.

She moved the bow in one slow stroke, eliciting a gentle long note from her violin.

She continued, "I made it… For one of my first earth friends while I was in orbit. And I… I think she slept very well… So I kept playing it for the next 49 friends who came after her before I touched ground with earth…” Her voice was soft, and her eyes were cast somewhere far far away as if she was reminiscing a fond memory.

She motioned the bow in the opposite direction, playing a lighter note. “I haven’t played it for a long… Long time. But I want you to hear it… Perhaps… It can help you sleep, too.”

They have a hunch on who these 50 friends are; The pups sent to space in the 50s and 60s by the humans. They expected Voyager to know about them, but to actually make contact with them? And play a song for them? They were surprised and a little touched. It is a beautiful thought. And somewhat… Comforting. Is that why she adores puppies very much?

“Do I deserve to hear it?” they asked her. She merely responded with a soft chuckle, continuing to play.

Her playing is delicate and slow. They could see her eyes close, the smile on her lips growing. A peaceful look on her face. The melody is gentle and relaxing, reminding them of moonlight and stars. The puppies seemed to have noticed, as their tails began wagging more slowly, their soft barks quieting.

Medicine Pocket let out a long, contented sigh, their eyes fluttering shut as they settled against her lap. They didn’t mind the puppies snuggling and settling around their body.

They listened quietly.

The lullaby sounded like a gentle goodbye. Goodbye to the tiredness. Goodbye to the weariness. Goodbye to the frustration. Goodbye to the pain. Goodbye. Goodbye. Goodbye. It was a gentle lullaby of farewell, and a gentle hello of tomorrow. A lullaby that said: "It's okay now. A sweet dream is waiting for you. Rest, dear friend." Behind the sense of departure, there’s also a hint of yearning for home. Or perhaps, a welcome.

The soothing melody wrapped around them like a blanket. It was as if they were drifting away in the middle of a starry sky. Slowly, ever so slowly, they could finally sleep.

Their breathing steadied, and the last thing they heard before drifting to slumber was a faint, reassuring whisper.

“…Bonne nuit.”

Bonus Scene

“Erm… Ugh…”

Medicine Pocket wobbled their way out of the room they slept in. It was already afternoon, so the morning sun they departed with had turned into the warm saturated hues of a sunset by the time they woke up. Voyager and the pups were nowhere to be seen when they awoke, and she must have moved them to the couch with a blanket draped over them (woah she’s pretty strong… But alas, they’re a lanky person).

They reached the lobby. It was quite lively. There’s the girl scout and the girl with a red hood helping that one bunny girl in the kitchen, the TV girl presenting some sort of slideshow about cooking grilled cheese with Lilya’s plane to the pilot herself who looked intrigued, the infamously spooky twins playing cards with the photographer spirit and Necrologist (she’s losing), and so on… Some greeted them, some didn’t.

With the blanket held close to their chest, they kept looking out for the alien with blue hair. They couldn’t find her inside, so they went to the wilderness.

Unsurprisingly, they almost immediately found sitting at the picnic spot, taking a rest from walking their dogs. When she noticed them, she immediately smiled warmly and waved at them. The dogs responded in kind to their presence too, trying to run to them while barking happily, but held fast by the leashes held firm by Voyager’s hand.

Their face lit up, and they briskly made their way to her. “Hey!!! Hi!!! I slept well!!!” they declared with newfound energy. The puppies started to climb up their leg the moment they were in range.

She giggled. She seemed to have noticed the change in their energy level. They could see her shoulders move as she silently laughed.

They sat next to her and let the puppies pile onto them.

After they petted the puppies, they snuggled up to her. She leaned onto their shoulder. A gesture they reciprocated, resting their cheek on her head. They felt her body warmth, along with the faint smell of the sun and her flowery perfume as the usual. They smiled, sighing in relief.

She picked up a box near her lap, and opened it to reveal their favorite — Plain white bread with a little butter on it as a treat. She offered one to them, which they bit and ripped with their shark-like teeth like, well, a dog of course. It was soft, buttery, and still warm. Their favorite. What bliss. She fed some to the pups, too. The puppies certainly wolfed it down, making an endearing mess all over the mat, blanket, and their laps. The two could only laugh it off.

After that, they will be the one to walk the dogs. And then perhaps go back to whatever work they have going on. But now, that doesn’t matter. They’re in good company. This mysterious, lovely, alien darling, and the many many lively pups.

It was a good morning… Afternoon, I mean. Godspeed to their sleeping schedule.

[ecliptiz]

𝗥𝗘𝗠𝗜𝗡𝗜𝗦𝗖𝗘𝗡𝗧 𝗥𝗔𝗜𝗡 ╰► REGULUS BLACK

Summary: He loves you, you can’t love him.

Warnings: Angst, hope it makes sense, kinda a Jo, Laurie situation- idk I’m making it up as it going.

MASTERLIST

THE WIND, A WILD symphony, entwined with your hair, embracing it with icy fingers, jerking you awake from the haze of your weary steps.

There stood Regulus, raindrops tracing delicate pathways down his raven curls, while his pale countenance and freckles beckoned your gaze like constellations in the night sky, inviting you to map their secrets as the great artists would.

His dark, searching eyes locked onto yours, the tempestuous wind causing them to squint, yet never wavering from their connection to your soul. In the depths of his irises, emotions swirled like a celestial dance of northern lights, blending frustration, fear, and an unspoken tenderness that tugged at your heartstrings.

As you turned to face him, a fragile smile graced his lips, an intricate facade that conveyed a myriad of emotions too profound to fathom.

"No," you whispered, your voice a trembling echo, as if betrayal had slashed through your very core.

"Yes," Regulus responded, his voice carrying a soft determination, while his pallid fingers reached out for you, reaching for solace amidst the storm of emotions. But you retreated, your heart torn, unable to discern whether your eyes stung from the rain's bitter assault or from the torrent of feelings crashing upon you.

Regulus pressed on, his heart laid bare, his body reaching out to her despite the biting wind and drenching rain. His eyes, like two wounded stars, yearned for her understanding, as he faced the bewildered expression of the woman he loved, the one who held his eternity within her grasp.

He would stand by her side, shape himself into perfection to match her desires, if only she would agree to spend lifetimes intertwined with him, to wake up every day to the vision of her face.

He longed to trace every detail of her being, counting the freckles, cherishing each blemish, and admiring the small scars that adorned her skin. He wanted to feel the intricate texture of her existence, from the softest touch to the most subtle creases.

"We gotta have it out, Y/N!" His voice pleaded, cracking with the force of his emotions, desperate for her to meet his gaze and bridge the distance that separated them.

Her response was firm, her voice strong yet strained, as she backed away and turned away from him, her eyes avoiding his gaze. The stars shimmered above, a silent witness to the tumultuous struggle of their hearts.

"Please, no... Regulus..." Her words were laden with pain, a silent plea for him to relent, but his love was an unstoppable force that had consumed him entirely.

With every step she took, he followed, walking sideways, never letting her out of his sight. It was uncharacteristic of him, to chase after someone like a lovesick puppy, but she had bewitched him, creating a sanctuary of serenity amidst the chaos of his world. In her presence, the cacophony of life dulled to a hush, and he felt an unfamiliar sense of safety.

Her pleas continued, her voice breaking with every utterance, as she tried to create a chasm between them, yearning for the earth to swallow her whole.

Regulus couldn't contain the words any longer, his voice strained and vulnerable, confessing a love that had taken root long ago. "I have loved you from the moment I laid eyes on you, Y/N. I couldn't resist it, no matter how hard I tried." His neck tensed, the struggle evident as he fought to hold back the torrent of emotions that threatened to consume him. He locked his eyes on hers, longing for a connection that transcended the physical realm.

But still, she begged him to stop, her voice breaking as she increased the distance between them, seeking the vast expanse of an ocean to shield her heart from the intensity of his affection.

She finally turned to face him, her nose and eyes red from tears, her trembling lips revealing the depth of her emotions. The wind continued its relentless dance, brushing against her tear-stained face, while the rain continued to pelt down around them.

Regulus pointed back and forth between them with fervor, finally allowing his eyes to meet hers, a gesture that seemed to ease the tension in his body, if only slightly.

"I've tried to show you, but you wouldn't let me! And that's alright," his voice strained, curls swirling in the tempestuous air. "No, no," she murmured, her voice interweaving with his, her eyes locked onto his with a mixture of emotions.

His brown curls clung to his forehead, his eyes a mosaic of feelings, swirling like a tempest within gentle meadows. His body remained tense, his gaze unwavering, as if he could glimpse into the very depths of her soul.

"But I need to know now. Give me an answer because I can't bear this any longer!" His voice cracked under the weight of his plea, his eyes searching hers desperately, his soul yearning for her acceptance.

His nose was red, and his eyes were lined with the aftermath of tears, reminiscent of the soft snow that blankets the ground in winter. Yet, he refused to allow any more tears to fall.

She bowed her head, the whipping hair a temporary shroud that concealed her tear-filled eyes. Her hands clutched tightly at her own clothes, a futile attempt to anchor herself against the overwhelming surge of emotions.

"Please... please," her voice wavered, raw and strained, each word echoing the agony of her heart. Her instincts drove her to create more distance between them, as if trying to protect herself from the torrent of feelings that engulfed her.

"I made sacrifices for you! I gave up important things, everything you didn't like, and I don't regret it!" His body leaned forward, tension radiating from every fiber of his being. His eyes remained tightly shut, battling to retain his composure. However, the torrent of emotions was overpowering, and a faint spray of spit escaped from his lips, unnoticed in the deluge of rain.

As she retreated further, curling into herself, she wished she could escape, to be left alone amidst the relentless downpour.

"It's alright! I waited patiently, never complaining..." His voice faltered, his eyes desperately seeking a glimpse of understanding in hers, yearning for some sign that would validate the intensity of his feelings.

His emotions were laid bare before her, like vivid paint splatters on a once pristine canvas, now marred by the chaos of their emotions. He longed for their connection to be as vibrant and true as those raw brushstrokes, but the canvas of their love remained elusive, fraught with uncertainty and fear.

He paced back and forth, his voice breaking with each syllable. "Because I..." His words were choked with emotion, and he lowered himself slightly to try and meet her downcast gaze.

"Because... you know, I thought... I hoped you love me too, Y/N." His restless movements mirrored the turmoil in his heart, as a raw pain swirled through the dark depths of his irises. He longed for a future with her, to experience all of life's milestones together, to be each other's last and first in every moment.

He wanted to wake up next to her every morning, to fall asleep in her arms every night. He envisioned sharing meals, creating cherished memories, and savoring the small, beautiful moments of life as they painted their love story together. Every fiber of his being yearned to reveal the entirety of his heart to her, and that was precisely what he was doing in that vulnerable moment.

His heart felt like a canvas stuck in a mix of vibrant paints, and she held the brush that could complete the masterpiece. He entrusted her with the power to shape their shared destiny, to blend their colors and create something more profound and beautiful than he could ever fathom alone.

In his eyes, love and longing swirled, a vivid kaleidoscope of emotions that yearned for reciprocation.

His footsteps imprinted muddy marks on the rain-covered grass, mirroring the tumult of emotions that stormed within him. "And I realize I'm not half good enough!" His voice cracked with the weight of his inadequacy, yearning to be deserving of her love, to hold her attention unwaveringly.

He was willing to change, to transform himself completely for her, at the slightest beckoning of her fingers. He didn't mind the vulnerability of such surrender if it meant being with her.

"And I'm not this great man!" he confessed, his voice trembling. Yet, before he could dwell in self-doubt, she interjected, speaking the words he so desperately longed to hear. "Oh yes you are!" Her voice chimed in harmony with his, drawing herself closer to him.

As their bodies moved nearer, their hearts beat in tandem, his eyes revealing the weariness of a soul seeking solace.

"I am so grateful to you, you are too good for me, you are a great deal!" she proclaimed, her finger pointing towards him as if marking the epicenter of her affection. With each passing moment, their proximity grew, and the distance between them became infinitesimal.

"I don't know why I can't love you! I want to, but I don't know how!" Her voice quivered, her body shivering from the cold and the overwhelming sensation of his warmth, tantalizingly close yet just beyond reach. Her eyes searched his, desperately seeking an answer to the enigma of her heart.

His eyes, like celestial orbs, held a universe of emotions that captivated her entirely. She had never been interested in stars..until they were found in his eyes.

In that suspended moment, everything around them faded into the background. The rain's gentle patter became a mere hum, drowned out by the intensity of their emotions.

Regulus was lost in the impulse, and before he knew it, his lips were pressed tenderly against hers. The softness of their kiss conveyed a depth of feeling that transcended words. His hands sought to keep her close, gripping her cheeks gently, as if afraid that she might slip away.

Her fingers tangled in his damp curls, a mix of pushing and pulling, torn between pushing him away and drawing him closer. Yet, an undeniable connection held them together, as if their souls recognized the truth in their shared emotions.

When they finally parted, his breath came in soft pants, his forehead resting against hers. His lips brushed against hers with the softest of touches, and their noses bumped in a display of intimacy that was both tender and electric.

"Please, let's learn together," he murmured, his voice laden with hope and vulnerability. He held onto her, afraid to open his eyes, fearing that this could all be a fleeting dream.

Y/N's heart pounded in her chest, and she swallowed hard, her eyes fluttering closed as she breathed lightly. A timid nod conveyed her acceptance, her willingness to explore this uncharted territory of love together.

In the quiet embrace, time seemed to lose its meaning, and the world outside melted away, leaving only the two of them entwined in each other's presence. The rain's gentle rhythm was a subtle symphony to the harmony they had just discovered.

Regulus dared to open his eyes, and as he gazed into her own, he found a reflection of his emotions mirrored in her depths. He saw uncertainty mingled with the tender spark of hope, a mixture of fear and longing that resonated with his very being.

"I've never felt like this before," he whispered, his voice a fragile admission of the profound impact she had on him. "You make me want to be better, to be worthy of your love."

Her fingers caressed his cheek, her touch conveying a silent reassurance that he didn't need to be perfect, that she accepted him as he was, flaws and all. "You are worthy," she said softly, her voice carrying a warmth that wrapped around his heart like a comforting embrace. "We'll learn together, and we'll figure it out."

In that moment, they both knew that their journey had only just begun. They were no longer alone, no longer adrift in their emotions. They had found an anchor in each other, and together they would navigate the uncharted waters of love and vulnerability.

With each passing moment, their connection deepened, their souls painting an ever-evolving masterpiece of emotions. The rain continued to fall, but they stood there, soaked through, yet feeling nothing but warmth in each other's presence.

As they walked hand in hand, leaving behind the rain-soaked grass, they knew that life would still present its challenges, but now they faced them together.

[fanficapologist]

Of Dragons and Maelstroms

Themes and Warnings: slow burn, enemies to lovers, blood, violence, explicit language, sexual violence, period-typical misogyny, sexual themes, smut, tension, marriage, jealousy, pregnancy, childbirth, miscarriage, attempted sexual assault, breastfeeding, major character death, divergent timelines

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the House of The Dragon/Fire & Blood/Game of Thrones characters nor do I claim to own them. I do not own any of the images used nor do I claim to own them.

Chapter Twenty-Six

The Great Hall of the castle, adorned with black and gold Targaryen banners and tapestries, shimmered under the warm, flickering light of countless candles and chandeliers. Noble lords and ladies, clad in resplendent gowns and tailored finery, swirled gracefully across the polished marble floor, their laughter and conversation filling the air. The orchestral melodies of harps and strings, performed by a troupe of skilled musicians, resonated through the hall, guiding the dancers in their elegant waltzes and lively reels. Tables were laden with a sumptuous feast, a cornucopia of Westeros’s finest foods, as well as beautiful centrepiece bouquets of dahlias and violas.

Servants diligently attend to the guests, carrying trays of delicacies around the hall and topping up any empty goblets they saw in the hand of a noble. The Harvest Moon, its silvery light streaming through arched windows, cast a celestial glow upon the revelry, infusing the night with a sense of enchantment and fleeting magic. Before immersing themselves in the social whirlwind, Maera and her father, Lord Jasper Wylde, were presented to the Royal table.

King Aegon, the host of the evening, sat in the center, his deep green robes a testament to his royal lineage. His demeanor was jovial, the effects of the drink apparent. To his left, his sister-wife, Queen Helaena, adorned in her finest gown of green with moth patterns, appeared nervous, fingers fidgeting with an air of apprehension. To Helaena's left, the queen mother, Queen Alicent, exuded a composed and welcoming aura, dressed modestly in a deep green gown with a high neckline. She greeted the guests presented to the table with a warm, formal grace.

On the king’s opposite side sat Otto Hightower, his grandfather and Hand of the King, dressed in his finest attire and nursing his goblet of wine. He acknowledged the arrivals with a knowing nod and polite smile. Lastly, at the end of the table, was Prince Aemond, his outfit dark, a stark contrast to his family's green attire. He was dressed in fine black robes, his legs crossed, and a glass of wine in his left hand. Aemond appeared nonchalant, almost bored, by the parade of nobles before him.

As Maera and Lord Jasper approached the royal table, they demonstrated their respect in the traditional manner. Lord Jasper executed a graceful bow, and Maera, with her heart racing, curtsied deeply. In that moment, she couldn't help but glance up and catch Prince Aemond's piercing gaze. His evident interest lingered on her form as he studied her, from the allure of her bare shoulders, the distinctive silver stripe in her hair, down to the low neckline of her gown. His lips parted ever so slightly as he drank in her appearance, a scrutiny ignited within Maera a whirlwind of emotions: nervousness mingled with a deep excitement in pit of her stomach. Her cheeks flushed as she averted her gaze from the prince and focused her attention on King Aegon and Queen Helaena.

As Lord Jasper delivered the customary formalities to the royal family, it was King Aegon who, true to his often brazen character, seized the opportunity to comment on Maera's appearance.

“What a sight, Mayflower. I am glad to see you are showing off what the Gods have so graciously bestowed upon you,” he bellowed, before taking a very obvious look at the low neckline of her gown, drawing an uncomfortable silence over the table. In response, Maera glanced towards Aemond, whose fiery gaze bore down on his brother with a fierce intensity that could have incinerated lesser men.

Aegon, seemingly chastened by his brother's gaze, cleared his throat and proceeded to offer a formal welcome to Lord Jasper and Maera, expressing gratitude for their presence at the ball. Maera nodded in acknowledgment, and her gaze shifted to Queen Helaena, whose eyes remained downcast, fixed upon the floor.

Maera leaned in slightly towards Helaena and whispered softly, "I'll see you shortly, once the dancing begins." Helaena responded with a shy smile and a nod.

With their greetings concluded, Lord Jasper and Maera separated, each going their own way through the bustling grand hall. Maera was eager for a moment of respite from the whirlwind of the ball, wanting to savor the atmosphere and the grandeur that surrounded her.

However, her brief moment of solitude was short-lived, as she was soon approached by a gentleman slightly older than herself, dressed in the regal colors of House Redwyne - purple and silver. His cuff links, adorned with purple grapes, gave away his House affiliation. He greeted Maera with a respectful bow and attempted to initiate a conversation, though she found herself somewhat annoyed by his overtures. Enduring what felt like an eternity of listening to the Lord drone on about the grape harvest, Maera desperately searched for an escape route from this tedious conversation. She scanned the sea of faces, her eyes finally landing on her father, who was deeply engaged in discussions with other Lords. Gathering her composure, Maera politely excused herself, telling the long-winded Lord that her father had called for her. With a tactful excuse, she all but sprinted across the grand hall, eager to distance herself from the boredom that had besieged her.

Reaching her father's side, Maera was introduced to the group he was entertaining. Lord Swyift, along with his firstborn son, who appeared to be around Maera's age, and Lord Jason Lannister, accompanied by his pregnant lady wife, Johanna. In her most genteel manner, Maera greeted the distinguished assembly, her graceful curtsey conveying her respect. Lady Johanna, with a warm smile, complimented Maera on the beauty of her dress.

Lord Jasper's voice carried with it a note of satisfaction as he remarked, "It has caught the attention of many this evening." His eyes twinkled with a hint of mirth as he added, "Lord Thorne has already expressed an interest in a match."

Maera looked at her father with a puzzled expression, her thoughts racing. Her confusion was evident until Lord Jasper gestured discreetly toward a man across the room. The sight that met her eyes drained the color from her face and filled her with dread. Lord Thorne, a portly and inebriated figure of similar age to the Master of Laws, was swaying unsteadily, blatantly flirting with kitchen servants, and guzzling wine as if there were no tomorrow. A shiver of apprehension coursed through Maera's spine as she silently beseeched the gods that this man would not become her fate. The very idea of a union with such a character filled her with disquiet.

Lord Jason Lannister, resplendent in his noble attire, engaged Maera in conversation, bringing her attention back to the group and offering his praise. "Lady Maera," he began with a courteous smile, "your work in the capital and your ability to assist Queen Helaena with settling into her role has been truly commendable."

Maera accepted the compliment with a graceful nod and responded with polite gratitude. "Thank you, Lord Jason. It has been an honor to serve Her Grace."

As they exchanged pleasantries, Lord Jason deftly transitioned to a topic that piqued Maera's interest. "You know," he mentioned casually, "the Maesters at Casterly Rock have made an intriguing prediction. They believe that my lady wife, is carrying a boy in her current pregnancy." He smiled, a glint of paternal pride in his eyes, placing a hand on Lady Johannas stomach.

Maera's curiosity deepened, and she responded with warmth. "Congratulations, Lord and Lady Lannister. A son would be a great blessing to your House."

However, what followed next caught her completely off guard. Lord Jason turned his attention to her father, Lord Jasper, and continued, "I've been pondering the potential advantages of a match between my yet-to-be-born son and your esteemed daughter, my Lord."

The mention of such a match left Maera momentarily stunned. Her eyes widened in surprise, and she struggled to maintain her composure. The prospect of betrothing herself to an infant was almost too absurd to contemplate. She needed a moment to collect her thoughts and regain her composure. Quickly and discreetly, she reached for a goblet of wine from a passing servant's tray, bringing it to her lips to take a deep, fortifying sip. Her mind raced as she hoped fervently that her father wouldn't entertain the notion of betrothing her to a child who had yet to draw his first breath.

Maera's gaze drifted toward the royal table, which was now nearly empty except for Helaena and Aemond. Helaena, her friend and Queen, seemed to be keeping herself busy by fiddling with a bracelet on her wrist. Maera watched her intently, concerned that Helaena might once again slip into one of her trances, muttering incomprehensible things to herself. On the other hand, Prince Aemond sat there like an enigmatic statue, his eyes locked onto Maera. It was a peculiar feeling, being observed so intently, like a cat studying a mouse before pouncing. Maera was aware of Aemond's introverted nature, but this unyielding gaze, his unwavering attention, it made her feel distinctly uneasy.

Hearing the bards begin to play “The Ballad of Visenya and Vhagar”, Maera turned back to the group of nobles with a polite smile.

"I'm afraid I must keep my promise to Her Grace Queen Helaena for the first dance of the evening. Please excuse me."

With a sense of purpose, she scurried through the elegant crowd towards the royal table. Reaching Helaena's side, Maera gently touched her friend's hand to get her attention. Helaena seemed entranced by the delicate necklace she was fidgeting with, lost in thought. Maera's concern couldn't be concealed as she asked, "Helaena, are you alright?"

Startled back to the present, Helaena quickly nodded and gave Maera a reassuring smile. It was time to join the dance, and together, they made their way to the dance floor.

As the first notes of the song filled the air, the two friends began to twirl gracefully, their laughter rising in harmony with the quartet of musicians. The enchanting dance swept them into a realm of joy, and soon, other lords and ladies joined in. For a brief moment, the war against Princess Rhaenyra seemed a distant memory as the nobles united in a shared celebration.

With the lively dance coming to an end, Maera gracefully escorted Queen Helaena back to her seat, ensuring her comfort. Helaena settled back into her chair, looking somewhat distant, lost in her thoughts once more. Maera couldn't help but worry about her friend's well-being, but there wasn't much she could do at this moment. She offered a reassuring smile to Helaena before stepping back onto the dance floor.

The notes of "Two Hearts That Beat as One" swelled for the next dance, and a gallant young man with mousey-brown locks approached Lady Maera. He was dressed in a striking red doublet adorned with silver fish-shaped clasps, and his deep blue trousers accentuated the outfit. He executed a respectful bow and extended his hand towards Maera. With an amiable nod, he asked, "Lady Maera, may I have the honor of this dance?"

Maera accepted the offer graciously, placing her hand in his as they stepped onto the dance floor. As the music enveloped them, the young lord began to speak in a soft and gentle voice. “My apologies for not approaching you earlier, my Lady. I didn't wish to overwhelm you. You seem to be quite popular this evening."

Maera chuckled at his words as they circled each other as part of the dance, palms raised and touching as shereplied, "Indeed, the prospect of a suitor becoming the Master of Coin seems to have attracted many hopeful Lords."

The young lord introduced himself as Warren Tully, revealing his lineage as another grandson of Lord Grover, the current ruler of Riverrun. Maera's interest piqued, for the Riverlands were known for their political instability, with Lord Grover Tully supporting the Greens while his heir, Ser Elmo, had aligned himself with Rhaenyra's claim. Depending on the outcome of the war, Warren could very well become the next Lord of Riverrun, a prospect that intrigued Maera greatly.

As they danced gracefully across the floor, Maera found herself charmed by Lord Warren's conversation. He playfully inquired, "So, you have been made many offers this evening?"

Maera laughed and sarcastically responded. “Yes, my Lord. I am most fortunate to already have been offered the hand of an old goat and a child yet to be born.”

Warren raised an eyebrow in mock astonishment and remarked, "Those sound like quite tempting offers, Lady Maera."

As Lord Warren moved behind her, one hand on her waist, the other clutching her hand in unison with the other nobles dancing, Maera then playfully asked more directly, "And are you offering a proposal as well?"

Lord Warren chuckled, admitting, "I am offering many proposals at the insistence of my grandfather, Lord Grover. He seems rather eager to further the family line through me if the Greens win the war." He added with a hint of annoyance, "A matter that often vexes me."

Maera laughed gently and sympathized with him, saying, "It seems we have much in common when it comes to being pushed into marriage for the sake of family, duty, and honor."

Their dance concluded with a graceful curtsy from Maera and a bow from Lord Warren. He concluded, "I shall write to your father to express my interest then."

With a mischievous glint in her eye, Maera replied, "Please do, my Lord." She watched as he walked away, her thoughts lingering on this new charming suitor who had entered the intricate dance of politics and alliances that surrounded her.

Maera left the dance floor, smiling to herself over her recent interaction, yet her brief moment of respite was interrupted by a voice behind her, one that sent a shiver down her spine. "Are you really so foolish to be charmed by the first pretty words you hear out of a Lord's mouth?"

She turned to find Prince Aemond standing there, his stoic face betraying only the slightest hint of agitation, a look she had become astute at detecting in his violet eye. Maera could not help but admire his appearance this evening. His fine black robes were patterned to resemble the scales of a dragon, each scale meticulously crafted with impeccable attention to detail. The scales seemed to shimmer in the ambient light, giving the impression of a living dragon's hide. Around his waist, a Targaryen sigil belt held his robes in place. The sigil, a bold representation of House Targaryen's three-headed dragon, was wrought in silver and gold, adding a touch of regal elegance to his ensemble.

She offered him a deep curtsy, a customary sign of respect, before responding, "I assure you, Prince Aemond, I was merely being polite."Aemond replied with a noncommittal hum, his demeanor betraying little of his thoughts.

They stood side by side, the atmosphere tense yet oddly charged. Maera decided to break the silence with a more strategic inquiry. "Has your friendship with the Master of Whispers revealed any information about potential suitors I should avoid?" Her question prompted a sly grin to appear on Aemond's lips as he began to scan the room, assessing the lords and their potential scandals and rumors.

Selecting his first victim, Aemond shared his findings in a matter-of-fact tone. "The firstborn of Lord Swyift, whom you were chatting with earlier, is rumored to have many... relationships with his stable boys and squires."

Maera couldn't help but chuckle at this revelation, trying to suppress her amusement behind a delicate hand. Then Aemond led her gaze to Lord Thorne, who had his own share of secrets. Aemond revealed that Lord Thorne had sired a litter of bastards in King's Landing, a number that could rival King Aegon's. Maera put her face in her hand and shook her head, even more disgusted at the Lord’s audacity to ask for her hand, despite his appalling reputation.

Curiosity got the best of her, and she couldn't help but ask, “And what of Lord Warren Tully?” She directed her gaze across the hall which Aemond followed, spying the young lord chatting with Maera’s father. She smiled, admitting to herself that the man was certainly a handsome one, convincing herself in that moment that maybe a marriage with him would not be so unpleasant.

Aemond frowned slightly, his expression growing serious. "You can't be seriously considering him as a prospect, can you, Maera?"

She met his gaze evenly and replied, "Even you, my prince, couldn't argue that it would be an advantageous match for House Wylde." Their conversation hung in the air, a subtle challenge between them as the ball continued around them.

After an awkward few moments, Aemond placed himself in front of Maera before finally sneering,"Se zaldrīzes se klios gaomagon daor rholagon.” The fish and the dragon do not mix

Quick-witted as always, Maera retorted,“Iēdar jelmāzma se klios gaomagon.” Maelstroms and fish do.

Aemond responded, "Ao issi tolī zaldrīzes iēdar jelmāzma kesrio syt hen muña ānogar,” You're more dragon than Maelstrom, thanks to your mother's blood. The statement drew a subtle smile from Maera, but that quickly faded when Aemond unexpectedly reached out, his fingers grazing the necklace hanging at Maera's chest. His touch lingered on her exposed skin, eliciting a rapid acceleration of her heart and a quickening of her breath. As she gazed into his intense violet eye, she felt her emotions whirling into a tempest she couldn't easily dismiss. It was a maddening struggle, trying to bury these confusing feelings beneath a façade of composure, as they stubbornly clawed their way to the surface. It was impossible to ignore the magnetic pull she felt toward him, no matter how hard she tried to push those feelings aside.

A smug smirk played on Aemond's lips as observed the clear affect he was having on Maera. Shifting his attention to her hair, his fingers moved downwards to lightly caress a strand of hair that lay just above her breast. Maera’s heart pounded and she was sure that Aemond could feel it beneath his grasp. He leaned closer to her face, his voice a sultry whisper as he remarked, "The dragon is a truly captivating creature, and the lords of Westeros are unworthy of claiming her." With that enigmatic statement, he turned on his heel and departed, leaving Maera in a state of bewilderment. What bad just happened?

She watched as he returned to the royal table, her thoughts swirling in a tumultuous sea of emotions, uncertain of the depths they would take her.

Notes: Fun fact of the day- the condition Maera has with the white stripe is called Poliosis.

Tags: @marvelescvpe @grungegrrrl @blue-serendipity @ammo23 @shesjustanothergeek

Thank you so much for reading! Comments, feedback, likes, and reblogs are greatly appreciated 🖤

[themoonlitleander]

A Celestial Ballet

In the cosmic expanse, galaxies whirl,

A tapestry of stars, a celestial swirl.

Nebulas, birthplaces of stars, they grace,

With colors and wonder, in the deep space.

Nebulas, like clouds of stardust, they bloom,

In hues of crimson, sapphire, and plume.

Galaxies, islands of stars, they gleam,

In the vast, dark canvas of the cosmic dream.

Through telescopes, we glimpse their grand design,

A dance of light, in the celestial shrine.

Galaxies and nebulas, a celestial ballet,

In the night sky, they enchant and sway.

So gaze up to the heavens, in awe and delight,

Where galaxies and nebulas paint the night.

In the cosmic theater, they play their role,

A celestial symphony, for the heart and soul.

By TheMoonLitLeander

[actual-changeling]

Aziraphale told him he would be accepted back into heaven, could be an angel again, and although it is the furthest thing from what he truly desires - he still looks upwards.

I would like to spend-

Desperate, in love, trying to make sense of it all, of them, and when his voice breaks his eyes take to the sky. Maybe silently praying, maybe not, but I think there is a thought that definitely counts as a prayer, whoever hears it in the end does not matter, it won't be granted either way.

Crowley looks to the light, tries to figure out if they will even have an eternity to spend together, and he decides it doesn't matter. He will ask him to run away with him once more, knowing the answer has not changed, not after Aziraphale's proposal.

Light, the central part of his celestial creations, is separate from heaven and hell. To him, it's a comfort, I imagine, finding pieces of his angelic self in every shining star and swirling nebula he can spot when the night and city are dark.

I made that, I put a piece of myself into, and now I am turning to the goodness of myself for answers.

Funnily enough, Aziraphale does the same, but now because Crowley is in the light.

Crowley is right outside, looking back, waiting for Aziraphale to come and apologize, to meet him where he is instead of having to slow down and retrace his steps to catch up with him.

Aziraphale looks to Crowley for answers just like Crowley looks to the stars because those are what they watched during creation. While Crowley was marveling at his sparkling nebulas, Aziraphale was looking at him.

He never stops looking until the day he turns around and leaves Crowley stranded on earth, alone, now invisible to him.

[staring-at-a-blank-pagee]

binary star: a system of two stars that are gravitationally bound to each other, both orbiting around the same point in space. for each of the stars, its companion is the center of the universe.

It was a beautiful day to be in outer space. The stars twinkled brightly from where they hung surrounded by countless others of their kind, by swirling nebulae and idyllic planets orbiting brilliant stars of their own. In the midst of all this wonder floated a small Waddle Dee, who was perfectly content to just drift, the shine of excitement in their eyes rivaling even that of the stars that they were so fascinated with. Occasionally they would flick their tail, and with a jolt of electricity, would go flying forwards again to explore new areas and to see new sights.

It was here, among the stars, that Starry Dee felt the most at home. Yes, they loved Dreamland, but amidst the marvels of deep space they felt truly connected with everything, abuzz with magic and energy that sent their heart singing with joy.

Without realizing, he had drifted further than usual. But the sky was still bright with stardust, and all worldly things are meaningless when you are such a close part of a galaxy, so he flicked his tail again and let himself float even further from home. And these celestial bodies that he had known all his life, growing familiar with them over long nights spent looking up and countless hours in the skies just like this; speaking to them softly or just staring and taking in their beauty... they were incredible, but he could not deny the thrill of new discoveries, either.

A strange figure in the distance caught his eye when it glinted off the light of a nearby star, almost as if it were metal. Starry Dee squinted at it as it flashed, confused. After only a moment's hesitation, they started to move towards it, and as the object got closer it became increasingly clear that it was not a ship at all. Then what could it.....?

Starry squealed with happiness, too excited to make any other sound for a moment. "Oh my Nova. Oh my literal Nova." He said out loud without fully realizing it, flapping his arms excitedly as he drew closer and the distinctive features of the Galactic Nova became even more clear. In what felt like no time at all, they were right in front of it, their whole being quivering with pure happiness.

"READY. >" It said in a mechanical, toneless voice. Its purple eyes that seemed to hold millions of starts within them stared unblinkingly at the small Dee, glowing brightly.

"Oh my Nova, you're actually real!!! Wait, can I say that to you? Is that weird?" Starry rambled, his tail waving back and forth behind him as he talked. "I mean, I've looked for you my whole life, even though everyone said you were just a legend I always believed you existed!! And now you're really here!! It's such an honor to meet you, really, you're so awesome!!! Does all that stuff on you work right, like the piano or the clock? I have so many questions!! Oh, and of course I have a wish-"

The Nova, which had up until then been listening silently to Starry's rambling, cut him off. "READY. >" It repeated, as emotionlessly as ever.

Staring into the Nova's face made the words of their wish stop just short of coming out. I want to stay here with you, forever. It should have been so easy to say. But there was something about the way that rust collected on the edges of the Nova's otherwise pristine surface, something about the way that light of a different kind flickered deeply within its great galaxies of eyes when they had appeared, something about the terribly lonely idea of being trapped here forever, unable to move or explore, that made them pause.

He imagined- hundreds, maybe thousands of people coming to the Nova to get their wishes granted. The only interaction at all in its life being other people's greed. Living here, anchored and cursed to give everything to everyone but itself until all the stars winked out and it was the sole one left with nobody at all, all alone in the dark for eternity... Or until its machinery succumbed to time's allure at last, failing, never having known anything but what was in its line of sight. And maybe then, such a failure would have been a mercy.

Some people - most people - would have said that machines have no souls. No sense of self, no being. But Starry saw souls in every star and every leaf on every tree. He talked to the morning dew like it was an old friend and told the moon stories when it was full in the sky. He kept his many stickers safe and knew all of their hearts, apologizing to them when they ripped and laughing with them when they shone in the sun and everything was warm. He took a deep breath and faced the Galactic Nova.

"I wish that you could be free."

"... OK. > 3.... 2.... 1.... GO! >"

a wild nova appears!

they are always floating, and appear in a puffball form. they are adjusting... slowly to this new life after centuries of stagnancy, and still act very mechanical. as of right now, their existence is being kept a secret from the star allies/etc until they get more used to life on dreamland. side note! since the original nova plot was undefined, i had it set in the far future and was the "end" of starry dee's story. now, however, due to the rewrite it has already happened. as such, nova will be with starry dee for the remainder of the tournament. they can still grant wishes in theory, but would need to enter a long coma afterwards to "recharge". while they are a biological lifeform now thanks to the wish and not a mechanical one, they still have certain strange properties - like how their body shines like metal still.

.·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙　✩　*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ .

The stars were "wonderful tonight", according to Starry Dee. Nova didn't understand that, though. They looked the same as they always did, and the Dee always said that the stars were "wonderful". According to the knowledge their databases had left them, wonderful was defined as ˈwʌn.də.fl̩, adj: inspiring delight, pleasure, or admiration; extremely good; marvelous. Looking up, they did not feel any of that, as far as they could tell. They had spent many eons looking at the stars, and failed to recognize what Starry loved so much about them. They did not find anything wonderful, not after so long.

They were drawn out of their thoughts by the stirring of the Dee by their side. Nova floated close to the ground where Starry was fast asleep, curled up against part of their side despite his earlier proclamation that "I'm awake for the whole night all the time, it'll be fine!". As they watched, he mumbled something indecipherable in his sleep, though luckily it seemed to be a good dream by the way that his face was scrunched up in what they had come to know as the Waddle Dee version of a smile.

Slowly, they extended a paw. It was the first thing that they had done of their own will without Starry prompting them first ever since they had been freed and come to Dreamland. Somewhat awkwardly, they pet the Dee's head, causing his antenna to twitch. After a brief pause to ensure that wasn't a bad thing, they resumed the motion, which strangely.. became more natural, with time.

And... looking at Starry Dee now, with their newfound freedom all around them, maybe... Maybe Nova could understand how stars were so wonderful, after all.

fin.

(@kirbyoctournament)

[alice-angel12x]

I wonder what NRC's reaction would be meeting life for the first time?

Let's set the scene:

Far away deep in the hidden celestial forest, lies a hidden grotto. In the center was a simple shack, and inside was the god of Origin, Life. In the shack, tools and instruments lay scattered across the ground. On many shelves were both finished and unfinished clay sculptures. Beings that were not given the flames of life just yet. Around a cauldron were many different potions, herbal editions, and a large assortment of plants. And at the sketch table sat life. Paper and blueprints were scattered around him, all with failed Ideas of new life. The God Life sat and stared blankly at the blank parchment. He was having the work creative block, and the only thing he could draw was love hearts around a doodle of the apple of his eye, Y/n Death.

"Where did you disappear to this time Y/n," Life sighed in loneliness.

Life held out his hand as his staff floated over to him. With a soft tap, the staff tilted so that the orb was right in front of him. A couple of Sugar gliders helped him as they brought assortments of herbs and potions. Life gathered the ingredients into his hands and crushed them together. With a gentle breath, Life blew the ingredients into the orb.

The liquid in the orb began rapidly changing color, and swirling in the orb. In the light, Life saw an image of a castle with many statues.

"Night...Raven...College?" Life asked.

------------------------------------------------------------------

(1 week later)

'' Well, this looks like the place,'' Life said as he stepped through the gate.

As he walked through he saw the statues of 7, each one he remember when they were just clay in his workshop. Though he was happy that they should so much talent, though he wished they used their talents differently.

As he walked toward the school, a bunch of Savanaclaw students stood in his way. They towered over them, as they took in this stranger's appearance. The lamb ears, Deer antlers, and tail, immediately identified him as an herbivore beastmen. Yet they have never seen one with hooved feet.

Life was unfazed by the intimidation attempt, and simply observed them till he finally spoke up.

"Excuse me gentlemen, but I am looking for a friend of mine. I think they attend this school?" Life asked politely.

"Did you hear him?" Student A mocked.

"Gentlemen, He thinks he's so fancy," Student B laughed.

Life just stared in surprised disappointment, just questioning what is up with these generations of Humans and Beastmen. The poor God thinking these boys were a lost cause decided to ask for help from someone else. Someone less, beastly.

"Well, I guess you don't have the answers I seek. I wish you a good day, young fledglings," Life bowed as he tried to walk around the delinquent boys.

But the delinquents didn't let him pass as they grabbed him by the antlers. The commotion got the attention of many of the other students.

"I bet you are an RSA spy," Student C spat.

"Yeah you and your posh classmates," Student A growled.

Life winced slightly but didn't cry out in pain even after the harsh tug. The accusation of this antlered person sparked a rivalry flame, as the students gathered around. Cheering for the students to bet up the "RSA" guy.

Life looked around with a disappointed glare. "Please let go of my Antler. Grabbing someone like this is incredibly rude," Life said calmly, but sternly.

Sadly this only annoyed the aggressive students, as one tried to through through a punch. But Life quickly yanked his head, pulling the boy holding his antlers off his feet. To slam the boy into his attacker. The third guy tried to guy Life from behind, but Life used the bottom of his staff and jabbed him hard in the stomach. When the boy clutched his tummy, life flipped his staff to use the hook to throw the boy in front of him.

The first boy tried his luck again, only for Life to kick him hard in the jewels with his powerful legs. The crowd cringed as they could feel the pain just by watching. Student B growled at Life baring his teeth, only for the being to return in kind. Showing just how much larger and sharper his carnivore teeth are.

Life grabbed the student by the collar of his shirt and effortlessly lifted the muscular boy off the ground.

"I wish to ask again. I am Looking for Y/n of Death," Life said gravely.

Suddenly Life dropped the boy as someone jumped down between them. When the dust cleared Life could see who this was.

"Life?" asked a familiar voice.

"H-hey, Y/n you know that...guy?" Ace asked.

"Yes, he is a good friend of mine. He is the very embodiment of life itself-" Y/n was suddenly cut off When they were pulled into a sudden bear hug.

"Death, it's so good to see you, I missed you so much," Life gushed as he rubbed his cheek against theirs.

Y/n didn't seem bothered, but Everyone was just having a huge cause of emotional whiplash.