#but been going through a prolonged rough patch

[scongos-for-chongo]

shadow dub was so great that i’m breaking my 4 year hiatus to shout “FUCK YEAH RYAN” to the heavens and then return to my cave

[hongism]

DJANGO. - s. mingi (m)

➼ genre; smut ➼ pairing; mingi x fem!reader ➼ au; outlaw/hitman!mingi, dystopian futurism, lore accurate ateez ➼ warnings; explicit smut ➼ rating; m/18+ ➼ wc; 3.7k

Top shelf bourbon, no ice, and an orange peel over the rim of the glass. You only like the taste when it comes from his lips.

part of the outlaw miniseries.

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➼ smut warnings; piv, unprotected sex, biting, marking, rough sex, choking (unsafe practices used pls don’t do!), pain kink/play, slight blood play, creampie, pet names: darling & angel

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He comes into the bar as you’re wiping down the counter. One small glance at him would be enough to tell you where he’s been — the sweat on his brow under the brim of his cowboy hat is a dead giveaway for sure — but you don’t even need that much to know. A smell comes with him, one that you aren’t fond of but have grown used to in the time you’ve known this man, and that’s the lingering sulfuric scent that wafts into the bar with him. It clings to his leather jacket like a second skin by now. Perhaps part of you should be flattered that he comes to you after a hit, but then again this bar is all but his home, so you’re simply in a convenient place at a convenient time every time he returns.

“Want your usual?” you ask despite it being well past closing time. Preferential treatment for someone you’re quite fond of, and also on account of the man currently stationed on the roof seizing ownership of the bar prior to you being hired. Turning back, you pull a glass tumbler from the shelf without waiting for his response, affirmed by nothing more than a grunt as he comes to sit down at the bar. “How were things tonight?”

“Have you been waitin’ long?” Mingi asks in lieu of answering, and you smile to yourself.

“Hm, no, I wouldn’t say so. I had ample time to clean everything and wonder about when and how you would come in, so I’d say that’s time well spent.”

“And how exactly did you think that’d go down?” Sometimes you wonder if Mingi genuinely wishes to know your thoughts or if it’s simply a desire to prolong the conversation. Either way, he watches you with such rapt focus that you feel heat on the back of your neck from the scrutiny.

Top shelf bourbon, no ice, and an orange peel over the rim of the glass. Setting the drink down before him on the counter, you lean hard on the wood as your eyes squeeze shut.

“You come with your big cowboy hat with that gun slung around your arm, and you come up to me right here at the bar and you dip your hat like such a fine gentleman before saying 'How're things 'round here these days ma'am?'." You open your eyes and smile wide at Mingi. "Is that a sufficient enough fantasy for you?“

He dips his chin as one side of his lips pulls up to form a misshapen grin.

“I missed a shot tonight.” The shock reads on your face too quickly for you to conceal comfortably, even as you duck your chin and clear your throat to play it off, Mingi stares at you the same. “He clipped my arm before taking one between the eyes.” You blink down to his sleeves, noting the singed leather on his upper left arm that shows clear signs of damage. There are bandages underneath — or at least you’re assuming them to be bandages, it’s difficult to tell with how scarlet stains them. You move without saying a word in response, and Mingi shifts to follow your movements with his gaze, dedicated to the point of rotating his body as you go. “Nothin’ too terrible, darling. I already patched it up just fine on my own.”

“You go out and get fucking shot,” you hiss through gritted teeth just as you come around the edge of the bar, “then waltz back here acting a damn fool?” Mingi spreads his legs the moment you come up to him, effectively letting you press even closer to him when your hands grab for the collar of his jacket.

“I wanted to see you,” he murmurs, eyes wandering all over your face. “Wanted to fuck you.”

“Mingi.” You pull his jacket down to his forearms as the noise of exasperation leaves your lips.

“What’s so wrong about that?” he asks in return, hand wandering from the counter to find a new home on your hip. His hand is large and warm and proves to be quite distracting when he starts to let his thumb run along the sliver of bare skin he can now reach. You don’t opt to answer his nonsensical question in favor of working the jacket off his shoulders and exposing bare arms and a skimpy leather vest that leaves fairly little to the imagination. Your focus remains strong though, and you hone in on the cloth bound around his bicep. The area is relatively clean aside from the bandage, to your surprise. Mingi reaches up to lay a hand over the one you still have clenched around his sleeve. “Cleaned and dressed it already, angel. Stop worrying that pretty little head of yours for a second and let me see you smile.”

“Don’t let my drink go to waste and let me actually clean this shit first. Then you can have both those things.” You pull away to find the nearest first aid kit just for Mingi to snag your belt loop and pull you back to him.

“And something extra?” His lips are chasing yours already; you push the tip of your index finger to them before he can get any closer. One kiss will be more than enough to distract you from the task at hand, which is like what he is aiming for knowing how Mingi is. Despite the less-than-stellar circumstances, you do find his cheeky grin endearing more than you find it infuriating, which means you only leave his side with a roll of your eyes and not any more snippy remarks.

He sits still and sips at the drink you prepared for him while watching you work. It feels like a bit of a rhythm that you fall into — pulling the first aid kit out, taking what you need from it, returning to Mingi’s side in little to no time — and you’re somewhat grateful for him allowing quiet to hang about the bar because it means you can clean his wound without distraction on his part. It truly isn’t a terrible injury, just as he had claimed (but you aren’t about to admit that to his face, otherwise you won’t hear the end of it for the next three weeks at minimum). However, he did not dress it well in the slightest and if he did clean it, then he did not do a thorough enough job by your standards.

Mingi’s glass is empty by the time you finish wrapping a fresh and proper bandage around his arm, securing it in its place with a strip of medical tape. You lean back to admire your handiwork that’s far and away better than what you started with. Mingi twists to look over it as well.

“Not half bad, huh?” you quip, nudging his knee with your hip before turning to return everything to where you dragged it from. Mingi’s fingers pinch and hook on the fabric of your front pocket first. In one quick motion, he spins you back to face him, though now he’s gotten to his feet and presses so close to you that you come face to face with his torso.

You get your first taste of him tonight right then when he dips down to capture your lips with his. Bourbon and orange sit heavy on his tongue as he licks into your mouth, and you drink in the taste. Like you’ve been starved of the taste for eons, like you’ve been searching for an oasis in the midst of a desert and he’s the last source of water on the planet. You laugh against his lips at the thoughts running through your mind at present — they sound more like the sweet nothings and pillow talk he would whisper to you before falling asleep under the stars than thoughts of your own.

Mingi shifts his weight against you and diverts all your thoughts towards other, much larger, and much more prominent things. Namely what’s pressing hard into your hip through his leather pants and making itself very known to you.

“Eager much?” you murmur, lips pulling up at the corners. Mingi’s hands move to the bar counter and cage you in against the wood. A shaky breath escapes you, one of anticipation and budding arousal. As the air from your lips fans out across Mingi’s sharp features, he leans in and catches skin between teeth, nipping and tugging hard enough to sting. First at your already swollen lips, then lower just below your jaw, again and again on the way down your neck until he’s satisfied to pause at your collarbone. He drags teeth over the fragile skin there in a way that makes goosebumps rush over your skin.

Hands scramble to find purchase on each other’s bodies, and when that’s not enough, Mingi settles to sweep his arms wildly behind you on the counter. It sends the first aid kit flying, tipping it over the edge of the bar and making it clatter on the ground. His empty glass follows a similar path and meets a much more brutal fate; it shatters against one of the stools and splays across the floor to your left. The door to the roof bangs open to interrupt the spell placed between your bodies.

“Oi! Quit trashing my fucking glasses unless you're planning on replacing every last fucking one of them!”

The door slams back shut so quickly that you don’t have the opportunity to respond in the slightest, and the shock it leaves with you makes a laugh rip from your lips. You duck your head to rest against Mingi’s shoulder, laughing under your breath as the adrenaline pumps your heart more and more.

“Good to know he’s still alive, I suppose,” Mingi jokes through a laugh of his own, just before you lift your head and reach for another kiss.

“Let’s break some more shit just to piss him off.” Said somewhat as a joke, and other parts a completely serious attempt to weasel your way under Hongjoong’s skin, Mingi ignores that in favor of pulling you away from the bar. His hands pull and tug at your thighs, a clear urging to get you to wrap your legs around his waist, and you give him what he desires so desperately in exchange for a kiss that’s full of teeth and saliva. 

Your hands never settle on any particular part of him for a second longer than needed — you want him in ways that are beyond simple desire, and your eagerness must be evident to some degree based on how Mingi nips at your lower lip. He’s not very gentle in the way he splays you over the pool table, and you narrowly miss the triangle of balls in the center as your head thuds against the surface. Mingi hoists your hips closer to the edge of the table without preamble. Just as you’re reaching down to wrap a hand around the back of his next, aiming for another kiss, Mingi ducks down between your legs. 

“Min—oh.” Your gut tightens and cuts your train of thought short. There’s pressure between your legs and against your sex, even through your pants, you can feel the efforts of his fingers at your clit. You swing an arm wildly around the table in search of something to ground yourself yet all you can hold onto is the border of the table. 

“Want me, angel?” His nails dig into your skin around the waistband of your pants. It’s enough to sting and burn, you tighten your grip on the table as though it’s Mingi you’re grabbing instead, and he lets out a low chuckle that reverberates through you. “Such a pretty little thing you are… letting me have my way with you.”

“I—” air hisses through your gritted teeth as Mingi begins to drag your pants down your legs at an agonizing pace “—I’ll take charge myself if you don’t speed things up a bit, angel.”

He’s laughing again as he stands upright, pants pulled down to your ankles, and he leans over your prone body to look you in the eye. When he speaks again, his breath is hot on your lips.

“Don’t threaten me with a good time, y/n. I’m at your mercy whenever you want me to be.” He lowers his face to your neck, teeth snagging the fragile skin there and nipping hard enough to make your body tingle. “You can even have me on my knees if that’s what you want…”

“Mingi.” This time, rather than an attempt to spur him on, your tone begs him to slow down because the mere prospect of what he’s whispering into your skin has your head spiraling. Of course, now, he doesn’t wish to do that. He hooks two fingers around the crotch of your underwear, which in turn causes his knuckles to drag through your sopping folds and give you the slightest bit of stimulation. The weight of his body does nothing to keep you from jolting under him, a startled moan slipping out right against the shell of Mingi’s ear.

“Don’t you feel it, darling?” he murmurs against you as your panties are stripped from your body just as your pants were. “That rush of adrenaline — I’m still feeling the high of that fight and getting shot. Makes me wanna fuck you into oblivion even more than ever.”

“Some wou-would call that insanity, hun.”

“Hm? That I get turned on when it’s a close call?” His arm buckles when he tries to brace himself against the table, and your eyes flit over to the wrapped wound there nervously. Red peeks through the bandages again, yet he doesn’t seem to mind one bit. He notices your focus in an instant, though seems far less concerned than you are. He keeps that arm where it is as he reaches down to his pants and undoes them as best he can with one hand. There’s fairly little effort in that regard, however, because all he does is move them enough to pull his dick out. You barely get a glimpse at what all he’s doing before you feel him against your cunt, nudging between your folds. “Feels even better when I’m hurtin’, angel.”

Mingi rolls his hips forward, but he doesn’t enter you quite yet. His cock thrusts between your folds in a lewd imitation of the real thing. His focus shifts from watching the way his cock pushes against your clit to see your reactions unfold. You sling your arm forward and clench your fingers hard around his forearm.

“You want it to hurt or no?” Mingi asks through a grunt, hand pressed down over where his cock slides against you to form something of a pseudo-hole for him to fuck. 

“No prep, please, just — just go in.” His pace falters slightly at the permission, though the look in his eyes tells you that he wants nothing more than to do that right now. “And come inside, please~” A low blow, perhaps, but you know it’ll knock his evident concerns about your well-being away in full, and it does indeed spur him into action. 

“Grab my arm.”

“I am.”

“Not like that, darling.” Mingi reaches around with his used hand, wet with your arousal and his combined, and he grips your wrist until you let go of his forearm. You don’t realize what he’s wanting until he guides you up to his bicep and places your hand right over his injury. “Hurt me a bit, angel, you know I love it.” You tighten your hold around the bandage just a little. “Don’t be afraid to make me bleed.”

“Mingi,” you exhale, then he’s spreading his fingers around your neck. Your breath hitches in your throat.

“Do you trust me, y/n?”

“Of course.”

“Then hurt me,” he says before lining himself up with your entrance and pushing into you slowly and deliberately. The stretch burns something awful, and it draws a noise that’s more akin to a wail than a lust-filled moan out of you. Surely something your companion upstairs on the roof will overhear and wonder about, but he’s never interrupted beyond a certain point before and you’re confident he won’t now either. Regardless, the thought of Hongjoong is a dwindling one that doesn’t linger long because Mingi fills your senses to the brim, as well as you In the filthiest way you can describe. You’re hardly conscious of how hard you’re clinging to him, but the palm of your hand is wet against his arm, and he’s tensing in your grasp with each passing second. 

There’s something terribly exhilarating about it. You understand, for a moment, that rush of adrenaline he had mentioned not long ago. As your body stretches to form around his length, you find yourself wanting to mold him in similar ways. The pressure on your neck increases bit by bit; Mingi leans further over you and pushes his hand more into your throat. It’s far from safe but it hurts so good that your brain feels fogged already.

“Fuck,” you hear the word slip off Mingi’s tongue once he’s fully buried inside your tight heat, walls firm around his thick cock.

“Don’t make me wait long,” you say back, tone nothing but breathy thanks to the pressure restricting you. 

You had grown up hearing the notion that there is no violence in love, but there is in both infatuation and obsession. Perhaps you and Mingi are living proof of that, with how you exercise your affections onto each other in ways that would be considered sinister to others, but at the end of the day, you two are simply indulging in things that bring you both pleasure. 

Mingi heeds your words so carefully and doesn’t waste a second longer than he has to before he’s beginning to drive his cock in and out of your cunt. You cling to him all the same, only squeezing harder as the ache blooms into something more pleasurable than painful. You still taste citrus on your tongue, a lingering gift from his lips, and your brain hones in on that taste as it becomes harder to breathe under his palm. You’re far from light-headed, especially with how his grip rubs up and down your neck with the force of his thrusts. It will leave marks, perhaps your whole neck will be red as though you’d been scratching at it all night, but you revel in the fact that you will be leaving Mingi will a similar mark. A wound that’s nothing more than a graze across his skin will bloom into something that lasts longer and bothers him a bit more. Perhaps he will be back to you before it’s even healed.

“Mingi,” you moan, chin tipping back further. He’s quiet as always — though only in terms of actual words because his lewd noises don’t cease for a second, and he nearly has you beat with how many groans drip from his lips like sinful honey. You wish to drink it all up, take every noise from his tongue and swallow them with your own until there’s nothing left unshared between the two of you. 

It’s deeply carnal the way he fucks you like he’s clinging to a lifeline, and you feel the urgency in his movements from how his hips snap against your body to how heavy and frantic his breathing has become. Though, you’re no better than he, dancing to the same illicit tune.

Suddenly you can breathe easy again, and you gulp down the air that enters your mouth so greedily that you almost choke on it. Mingi’s hand drags from the column of your throat down your torso until he has his fingers settled against your cunt just above where his dick connects your bodies.

“Come on me, darling, fuckin’ cream all over my dick like you’re made to.” The way he rolls your clit between his fingertips is brutally stimulating. It fills you with such a white-hot pleasure that you’re forced to release his arm in favor of covering your mouth to keep your noises from resonating through the room further. Mingi snatches your arm away in a split second, making sure that all you’re able to accomplish is a quick smear of his blood across your face. He folds himself over your body just as the stimulation sends you over the edge you’re teetering at, and as you unfurl into an orgasm, Mingi is there to drag his tongue across your cheek and jawline. When your back curls off the pool table, he sneaks the hand that was just toying with your clit around your back and holds your body up to his.

The kiss he delivers to your lips is one that’s metallic and wet, but you greet his tongue with your own in a fit of eagerness to feel him further. He hoists you further up until you’re all but seated on his cock. The throb between your legs is still so intense that you don’t notice his dick twitching against your walls, nor do you feel the first spurts of come inside you, but you do notice when Mingi bites your tongue hard enough to make it bleed. You’re still writhing in his grasp when he stops thrusting up into your pussy, and you cling to his face like letting go is simply not an option. 

It hurts when your mouths finally separate because then you feel the throb of the bite on your tongue in full and taste the evidence of it in the back of your throat. 

“Satisfied, angel?”

Your breath intermingles with his, and he’s still chasing your mouth in the hopes of taking another kiss from you. There’s a grin tugging at the corners of your lips as you press your index finger to his chin.

“Not even close.”

He laughs.

“Good, because I’m hardly done with you yet.”

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this work belongs to caly / hongism (2023). do not copy, repost, or plagiarize in any way.

[softshuji]

4:06PM | HAITANI RAN  

Summary: Maybe you and Ran are just two broken things, and maybe enough is enough. Likes and reblogs appreciated! Link to my masterlist here!

cw: afab!reader, use of petnames (Princess, baby), implied infidelity (nothing happens), angst with comfort, both Ran and reader cry, mentions of marriage and divorce.

Ran has known for some time but he’s been ready for this conversation for none of it. It should come as a surprise when you sit him down in the garden, grass blowing gently, faint scent of fresh flowers tickling your nose, but it doesn’t. 

He sits on the bench in your garden and looks up at you expectantly, as if his heart isn’t crashing and racing in his chest. Every second that prolongs this conversation only serves to make him feel more nauseous, more anxious and he can’t seem to stop the jittering, the bouncing of his knee on the slabbed floor. There are weeds growing between the cracks, little dandelions and shrubs, moss that peeks out between the brown soil, and he watches you absent-mindedly stamp on a patch of moss that pops up between two broken slabs.

‘Ran,’ you say, your skirt swishing in the breeze as you move to sit next to him. 

‘Y/n,’ he replies in tandem, and looks at your pinched brow, the corners of your mouth turned down and the visceral urge to kiss your lips, your forehead, is so great that he looks away. He chooses to focus his attention on the cigarette he’s pulling out from a silver tin, engraved with a neat italicised ‘RH’ in the corner. An anniversary present from you many years ago, now worn and lined with scratches and dents and he’s so sentimental that he can’t bring himself to replace it. 

Maybe he just loves you too much.

You take his hands in your own. They’re rough, callused, just as worn as his cigarette tin. The same hands that he touches you with, cooks with, kills with. Every line holds a memory of the two of you. You’re fidgeting just like he is, biting your lip anxiously, tapping your foot on the broken slab.

At first you don’t speak, neither of you do. You just stare at each other, at the faces you’ve woken up next to for the last four years and your hearts are both breaking at the same time. If you were to put your head to his chest, you would hear the crack as his heart splinters, the erratic beating of it as it descends into the pit of his stomach.

‘It’s okay…’ he smiles, a watery and thin smile and traces his thumb along your knuckles. His touch is soft as a feather.

‘S’not okay,’ you say and all it takes is the sensation of his hand on your back, comforting as it always is, for your resolve to slip and the tears to gather in the corners of your eyes. 

‘It is Princess.’ He presses a kiss to the back of your hand. ‘No matter what, I’m always going to love you.’ 

Perhaps it is a testament to his grace and the love he has always given so freely to you that allows him to say it, and to smile knowing what you’re about to say, knowing that this is the end of the line. 

‘I’m sorry Ran, I’m so sorry.’ The first tear slips from your eye and falls onto your pallid cheek and on instinct, he brushes it away with his thumb. 

‘Don’t be Pretty baby, it’s my fault. I should have done better.’ 

‘No, no, it wasn’t you, it was me- I should have tried to understand you more-’

Truly you could go on all day like that, taking the blame, both of you caught up in the whirlwind of your love, of trying to save the other from more heartbreak. Was that what love was? 

‘So this is it huh?’ His eyes are so soft and kind, and the lazy sunlight hits them at just the right angle. Luminescent purple and lilac, framed by dark long lashes. He’s always been beautiful, always been elegant, always been something so ethereal that it’s almost hard to believe he’s real. Especially on the warm Sunday mornings, when the splices of sunlight drift through the slat in the curtain over his shoulder and his lips are just about parted, as if waiting for you to brush yours against them. 

You nod your assent and he sighs and it is so broken and tired but he tries for a smile again. You can see his eyes filling with tears and his hands trembling as he puts the cigarette to his lips and inhales a lungful. 

Your shoulders shake as you cry and you look so small and vulnerable sitting there in your skirt and flats, with a flower in your hair that he had put there that very morning.

‘I’m sorry- I’m sorry- I’m sorry,’ you say and it’s all you can think as he pulls you to him, holding you close with an arm around your shoulder.

‘You don’t need to keep saying it Pretty.’

‘I do- I should have loved you harder-’ The words are thick and heavy in your throat but all he does is shake his head adamantly.

‘What would that have done huh?’ He rubs your bare arm and feels the goosebumps on your skin. ‘I just want you to be safe and happy, and if that means it isn’t with me, then s’alright.’

And oh how it hurts to say those words when he wants nothing more than to hold you forever, to make love to you every night, wake up to you every morning. 

‘Its my fault.’ He kisses the crown of your head and your hair tickles his nose as he does so. ‘Should have been here more often, should have cared for you more.’

‘No-’ You shake your head and the sob sitting at the base of your throat trickles out as you wipe your nose. 

‘It is. I’m an idiot-’

‘Ran-’

‘S’alright Y/n, let me finish.’ 

This is by far the hardest thing he’s ever done, the scariest and for the first time in his life he feels the visceral fear, the terrifying sensation of being out of his depth and adrift. You’re slipping through his fingers and there is nothing he can do about it but he'd rather die than force you to stay where you’re unhappy.

‘I shouldn’t have been so absent. I did this, and you deserve better. So much better.’ There is no playfulness to his tone, no sarcasm and that’s what saddens you the most.

The tears are fast and free-flowing and you hiccup and sob against his chest, the spike of anxiety that gnaws at his stomach only growing tenfold when you clutch his shirt for support.

He had known in his heart that things would never work between you, because he had always loved you more, had loved you enough for both of you when things started to change. Sometimes you felt selfish and guilty and the knot of self-loathing in your stomach only seemed to double every time he gently caressed your back as he passed, or told you he loved you when you lay together at night, sleep pressing on your eyelids like a vice.

You don’t correct him. Maybe because he’s right, or maybe because it’s pointless. Maybe because love is so complicated and neither of you really understand.

You love him. He loves you. Once you’d thought that the simple act of loving was enough to maintain you, that love could sustain the relationship when other things could not, that the days and weeks spent away working would not add up, that you would not crave and miss him like you did. He loves you, but he doesn’t choose you. 

‘I’m an idiot,’ he says and mentally curses himself. 

Did the fact that this conversation was weeks in the making make it any easier to have? No it didn’t. Despite the fact that this was the end of the line for you, you still want him to stay. No matter what happens, you will always look for him at night and perhaps that codependency, that you once thought was love, was exactly what love wasn’t. You didn’t know. 

‘You can keep everything,’ he says, taking a shuddering breath. You need him to be strong, he thinks. You need him to be sturdy when you cannot be. So he will. ‘Whatever you want you can have. You’ll always be my Princess.’ 

‘Ran…’ You don’t mean for it to sound so desperate and full of yearning, and perhaps it’s because you’ve been crying over this for weeks, that you’ve lain awake on the nights he wasn’t here, but a choked sob rips its way from your throat. 

What was the issue here? That he didn’t love you? Or that he did and that that love wasn’t enough to make you love him in return? Yes it was true he had accepted you, every part of you. The part of you that was a dreamer, the part of you that would rather die than show it. Was that not what love was? Acceptance of a sort?

All his life he had spent climbing this insurmountable mountain. But he would jump off in a heartbeat if it meant he’d meet you at the bottom. 

There were times of course, when you could caress the concept of happiness with gentle but tentative fingers, when you could reach out and touch, ever so lightly, that blanket of comfort that hung in the sky just out of reach. Those times when happiness was a just about perceivable thing. But it wasn’t enough. Because no matter how hard you tried, the puzzle pieces just didn’t fit,as if you were knocking together two things that shouldn’t be there, that wouldn’t fit together. 

‘It’s Rindou isn’t it?’ he asks and instead of feeling the numbing fear of being found out, you only nod against his chest, resigning yourself to whatever he might say next. 

‘I’m not mad Y/n. Maybe once I would have been but I’m not. I love you, and I love my Brother.’ Even though he’s putting on a brave face, his heart is breaking. His lips are a firm line. ‘He deserves you, and you deserve him.’ 

It would be easier if he was green with jealousy, if he was angry and thrashing and hurtful, if he just hated you because hate was so easy, would be so easy to swallow and accept and maybe you could leave him knowing he would still be whole.

‘Ran I’m sor-’

‘Don’t Y/N-’ he interjects and his grip around your arm tightens just a slight. Despite how much you loathe yourself for this, and he himself too, neither of you wants to back out, to go back to pretending. 

‘How did you know?’ Your voice is so small, muffled by the fabric of his shirt. Are you prepared for the answer? No, not at all, but you still need to hear it.

He looks down at you nestled against him and gives a weak but knowing smile. ‘I know Rindou better than he knows himself. Saw the way he looked at you, and you looked at him.’

Was there a way he could have prevented this? Maybe. Maybe if he was less neglectful and Rindou didn’t have to pick up the pieces every time the job took priority, if he wasn’t always the one in your company giving you the love you should have received from him. 

‘Why did you never say anything?’ 

‘I wanted to,’ he says. ‘But I didn’t want to have that conversation.’

‘Is that it?’

Say it Ran, you plead mentally. Tell me you didn’t love me enough to care. Say something horrible to me. Punish me for it.

‘And I didn’t want to take away someone who made you happy when I was too stupid and neglectful to do so.’ That lump in his throat is so thick with unshed tears that he feels like it’s choking him. He clears his throat, hoping the hoarseness of his voice can be mistaken for his cigarette smoking and not the fact that his ribs are crushing his heart.

The gravity of the situation and his words hit you like a sledgehammer to the chest. This is happening. You are separating after four years of marriage and the weight of the years descends on you like a stormcloud.

You whine against him and he only kisses your forehead.

‘Why do you not hate me?’ Your voice cracks and your eyes sting for the umpteenth time. 

‘Could never hate you Princess. Ever.’ 

It’s a testament to the years, to the fact that experience in love has taught him so much that’s softened him into who he is now. Still playful, still devious, but with a heart that lets in love, your love and only yours. It had taken so long to get to that point and perhaps that’s what hurts the most. The time spent trying to build something, the time you both feel you’ve wasted considering the circumstances. 

You love him, you do. But you’re not in love with him. Not any longer. 

Not since Rindou.

There was the crux of the issue.You could tell Rindou loved you too. You were old enough to know what it meant when his gaze lingered after you when you left a room, the attentiveness in his actions, the deep cadence of his voice that softened when he spoke to you, the smile he reserved for the days when he kept you company by the firelight. Too many times the light had caught the softness of his lips and you had wanted nothing more than to close the distance and kiss him outright. You never did, and Rindou loved his Brother too much to do it himself.

Shame boils in your gut. 

‘I’ll call the lawyers tomorrow,’ Ran whispers and removes his arms from around you, opting to take your hand in his instead. You’re grateful for the fact that he’s taken the initiative, realizing that maybe this is how it’s always been. Him racing ahead and you trailing behind after him, driftwood lost at shore.

‘Ran?’ Your voice quivers on his name. 

‘Yeah?’ 

‘Thank you…’ 

‘For what Princess?’ He doesn’t expect to be thanked for anything, least of all during the moment where he’s breaking your heart and you’re breaking his.

For some of the best days of my life. For being my first love. For loving me when I felt unlovable, in the moments I was unlovable.

‘Everything,’ you say and even though you want to cry, to sob, to wrench open a tear in the sky, you smile at him and the tension dissipates a little when he returns the smile, albeit hesitantly. Because even though you’re both in pain, you know that it doesn’t last. 

Maybe love between people like the two of you is eternal. Maybe there is no end. Maybe there will always be a string of fate that ties you together. 

a/n: I actually wrote this six months ago lol, how d'ya like it guys? I may write a part two (I have an idea already) depending on how you like this. I promise I do like Ran even if I'm constantly hurting him. I hope you all like it!

taglist: @reiners-milkbiddies @mxnjiros @islascafe @swqllen @prettyiolanthe @sugusshi @wotakuhime @snakegentleman @severellamahottub @haitaniapologist @lonnie19 @nafarsiti @bejeweled-night-33 @crown5 @clovly @oikawascutie @the-travelling-witch @orchid3a @rottingreveries @qiiuusoup @hoetani @sinfulseashell @welcome-to-the-internet-it-sucks @obitohno @tetsutits @burnishedcrown @sweet-seishu @megshikigami

[roseblog-rog]

Hello Rose Blog Enjoyers! i haven’t been posting lately because. the horrors. However, I did promise more, so here’s a very self indulgent smut work i finished a little while ago (under the read more line).

(TW for blood, wounds, and knives)

“You’ve Got A Lot of Blood.”

The comment catches me off guard, as nobody has said anything even remotely as deranged as that to me. Okay…that might be an exaggeration, but to be fair I was on my way back from the bathroom to continue sunbathing, and I’d rather not have my beach day interrupted any longer.

I turn to find a woman I’ve never seen before smirking behind me. She’s pretty, with long black hair and red lips. She’s close to my height, wearing dark sunglasses, a large sun hat, and a flowy black robe perfect for the summer weather. She’s even carrying an umbrella (to each their own I guess). Her skin is fairly pale despite the beaming sun.

If I didn’t know any better, I’d think she was a vampire. But I do know better, because vampires aren’t real. Probably.

Besides, why would a vampire be at the beach?

Exasperated, still grumpy about having to get out of my relaxing position to use the bathroom, I snap at her, even though I barely even know her. “What the fuck does that even mean?” I regret it immediately, but hold my ground against this random stranger commenting on my bodily fluids.

“Woah, you’ve got a mouth.” She moves closer to my face and grins devilishly. “I like that.” I can feel her breath, but there’s no real scent to it.

I can very faintly see her dark eyes through the sunglasses, though I can’t tell exactly what color they are. I swear I also see fangs in her mouth, two unnaturally pointy teeth sticking out, but it must be a trick of the light. It has to be.

“Who even are you?” I startle back, the prolonged closeness lasting far too long for my liking. I’m clearly in for a long conversation. Dammit.

“Your worst nightmare.” She grins again, striking some pose out of some shitty porno. To be fair, I wouldn’t really know, but I’m probably right. It’s pretty clear now this is a hookup of some kind. I’m flattered, but I also don’t really…do…hookups. Not my thing, I’d rather get to know someone for a while first. I make this clear.

“While I appreciate the flattery, I’m not really looking for a hookup. Apologies.” Her face falls to a frown, and looking a bit closer I can see traces of desperation. She gets close again, but this time her mood has completely shifted. She’s afraid, voice falling to a whisper.

“Okay look, I’m really hungry and I apologize for thinking you wanted a hookup. You’re cute, so I assumed you do this kind of thing all the time.” I blush at the compliment. “I just…I don’t want to just take people’s blood without asking and I know vampires are sexualized a lot so I guess I just…I don’t know.”

Oh.

She goes quiet.

Earth shattering realizations aside, she needs help. She is clearly not doing well, hunger and some now noticeable burns taking their toll. If I have to lose some blood, fine, as long as there are no needles. Plus I still have some snacks left in my bag.

I sigh, beach relaxation already long gone.

“Okay, what do you need me to do?”

~

I understand why she was at the beach of all places now. She lives nearby, a quaint little beach house down the shoreline. Inside, the lights are off, and the curtains are drawn shut.

“I was also turned very recently, and I’m still getting used to everything. That’s why my methods thus far have been, well, unconventional.” She laughs sadly.

I’m helping her apply burn cream in the places she can’t reach, the only light coming from the soft glow of candles scattered around the house. We talk about our lives while softly rubbing the rough patches of her skin. It’s…well, it’s nice.

When we finish, I ask the big question. “So…are you going to bite my neck? I’m not really sure how this actually works.”

She hesitates. “I think so? To be honest, I’m still unsure myself.“ She looks…guilty. “I haven’t actually, uh, had any blood yet? But I know I need it cause regular food wouldn’t go down and I…” She stops, clearly nervous.

“You what?” I ask, cautious.

“I can smell it.” She mutters, eyeing my skin with a sort of contained insanity.

Okay. Not how I expected my day to go, but that’s what life is all about I suppose. “How about we figure it out together? Maybe build up to biting?” I am pointedly ignoring the slight warmth that fills my body when I mention being bit.

“Oh! Yeah, that would work. Uhm, I can make small little cuts with a kitchen knife to build myself up to eating blood. They won’t scar, don’t worry. Besides, it could also build you up to the pain that biting will probably cause.” I blush fiercely, but nod. Thank gods the lighting is dim.

She smiles.

“Well then, let’s get this over with.”

~

I’m sitting on her kitchen tile while she finds a knife. I took my shirt off but still have my bra and shorts, not really wanting to show a stranger any more skin than I had to.

With the chaos at the beach and applying burn cream, I never actually stopped to really look at her. She genuinely is pretty, with two fangs now very clearly shimmering as she pulls a knife out of a caninet, red eyes glowing and twitching as she looks at my more exposed skin.

She sits down in front of me, candles still glowing all around us. The knife looks sharp, new. Dangerous.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” She asks, glancing down warily. Her hands are ever so slightly shaking.

And that’s the question, isn’t it? Do I trust her enough to run a blade across my skin? To feed herself with my blood like her life depended on it (which it does)? To sink her fangs into my neck? To lose herself as she drinks from me? I shudder.

“Yes. I trust you.” Let’s hope I don’t regret it.

She nods and gets closer to me. I can feel her breath on my body again, warm air pressing gently against my chest as she raises the knife up to touch me. I can see it in her face: she cares. She’s trying to be as careful as possible, afraid of hurting me any more than she has to. My heart stutters ever so slightly.

The blade is now touching my skin, gliding like a feather all over. It’s cold, and I occasionally get the chills. She hasn’t made any cuts yet, hasn’t pressed down even slightly to draw blood, but from the fire in her eyes I can tell she wants to.

And then a sharp pain hits me above my left breast. I flinch, a small whimper falling from my lips.

“Are you okay?” Her eyes flick back and forth between the cut and my face. She licks her lips, but still holds back. I can feel a few drops of blood slowly sliding down to stain my bra. It feels warm. Fuck, it actually feels…good. The adrenaline is already pumping, and I look down to see the red liquid continuing to drip.

Drip. Drip. Drip. It’s beautiful.

“I want more.” The words surprise us both as they leave my mouth, and I almost go to backtrack and apologize before she smirks. She brings her face close to mine, her lips just barely touching my ear.

“So do I.” She whispers, and from the sensation of it alone I whimper again. She’s already lost it, I’m thinking to myself, as she quickly bends forward to lick up every last drop of my life force with no hesitation. My skin gets wetter and more sensitive from her tongue’s movements, and I bite my lip to hold back a moan.

I think I’m losing it too.

Once satisfied with the first cut, she quickly brings the knife back up to my skin to glide across it more. This time she doesn’t wait, very quickly making a new cut above the right breast this time. She starts licking the new wound, far more eagerly than the first time. This time I can’t contain myself and start to moan softly. I can feel my underwear getting wet already. Fuck.

This continues for what feels like hours. Cut after cut, lick after lick. It doesn’t hurt enough to cause serious detriment or extreme blood loss, but each time the blade presses deeper I still feel that sharp pain, that adrenaline. It’s addicting. I’ve quickly become a shaking whimpery mess, and my desperation for more only makes her increasingly eager to drink. To feed. My body is completely smeared red, the blood also coating her face. Her lips. I can smell the iron now, that intoxicating metallic smell only making me wetter. I never want this to end. I want her to keep draining me of my life force, to keep using me as nothing more than a glorified blood bag. I need her to drink me until there’s nothing left.

However, to my disappointment, she moves the blade off of my skin, lifting it up to a few inches from my face. It’s covered in red at this point, with a few drops still gliding down the blade. Behind it I see her, also drenched. She licks her lips to catch a stray drop of red. Hot.

“I was just gonna lick it off the blade…but I have a better idea.” She rubs all the blood from the knife onto the lower half of my face, and I shake even harder. Once the blade is cleaned off, my face now painted to her liking, she places it off to the side. I can feel every drop of my essence slowly falling from my face down to my neck.

She then gets closer, bringing her lips close to mine. I lean in, but she places a finger against my mouth. I can taste the iron. “Look at you, so desperate for more. It’s adorably pathetic.” My body continues to shake. “You’re more into this than I am! You sure you aren’t a vampire? Or are you really just a canvas, eager to be drenched and painted to my liking?” She smirks, then, pushing her finger into my mouth. I instinctively start to suck on it, the taste of my life force already filling me. She chuckles. “That’s what I thought.”

As I continue to suck, she starts to lick my face. She starts at the cheeks, but slowly and subtly moves down further and further. The jaw. The chin. By the time I realize she’s licking a spot on my neck with extra time and care, she’s already going for a bite.

The feeling of fangs penetrating my skin is unlike anything I’ve experienced before. I inhale sharply, bracing. But then it hits me. The feeling of her fangs inside my skin, drinking. I feel my blood pumping, feel it being sucked out of me. The pain is absolutely euphoric, and I can already feel my warm essence dripping down my neck. I moan wildly. I hear her moan as well, whether from pleasure or a satiated hunger. Maybe both.

I keep squirming from sheer pleasure alone, even as she pulls her fangs out to start licking the two marks in my neck. It’s all so warm. I can’t stop the whimpers and moans from leaving my mouth, so much so that she starts subtly grinding her knee against my crotch as she feeds. She’s absolutely drenched in my life force, painted red just like me.

We are both bloody and beautiful, and everything feels wonderful.

Eventually, though, she falls back and lies down, sighing in relief. I look at her, the candlelight illuminating her frame. She’s breathing deeply, coated in red with a soft smile on her face. She’s really pretty. Everything feels so warm and fuzzy and…blurry. I realize now that I was getting so lost in the pleasure of it all I didn’t realize that I lost a lot of blood. A lot of it.

“B..bag.” I’m swaying now, an absolutely goofy grin on my face from how wonderful everything was. I feel close to fainting. She looks at me, confused, and I see in her face exactly when she realizes what’s happening. She mutters a curse and goes to grab my bag.

There’s blood all over me, completely staining my bra and shorts. The floor surrounding me is also covered, and I run a finger across it to get another taste of iron. I can feel my skin start to harden, my life force starting to dry up. I still feel so much pleasure I can hardly think straight...or maybe that’s the blood loss.

She runs back in with my bag and fishes out a nutrient bar for me to eat. I take slow bites, my breathing starting to level. When I finish, I collapse into her arms and mutter a “thank you.”

“Wha—thank you, ya dork! I’m the one that needed this.” She chuckles fondly and I smile. I feel myself drifting into sleep, and the last thing I feel are her fingers running through my hair.

~

[deepdisireslonging]

Maybe One Day: Chapter 2

Sophia’s red masked problem drops by her apartment. Her nursing skills come in handy. 

Pairing: (eventual) Red Hood x Sophia Adler (OC)

Warnings/Promises: canon-levels mafia violence, cw blood

Word Count: 1100

Note: This was a commission I wrote back in December for a patron. I’m going to share it here bit by bit. As always, I really appreciate all reblogs and comments.Catch up on chapter 1 here.

December Twenty-Third

DOWNTOWN GOTHAM, 8 AM

It wasn’t a dream. She was still rattled when she woke up, and her hands hurt when she let go of her steering wheel at the hospital. No amount of Gotham stress could have kept her awake. But it made up for it during the day. 

Sophia jumped at everything. She took pains to never be alone in a room without a coworker. Alexis noticed and asked if anything happened. 

“No. Just… probably had too much coffee this morning.”

She couldn’t speak about Bill. Or Red Hood. If the news got out before he did something about it, things could blow up in their faces. Literally. Bill only had her first name, and he didn’t know which hospital she worked at. Now more than ever she was happy to work here instead of in a small private clinic where she would stand out. 

If Red Hood ever dropped into her path again it would be too soon. 

<\\\*///>

“If you think the beating Hood gave you was rough, wait till you see what I’ll do to you.” As Black Mask drew his gun, Ms Li stepped out of splatter range. 

Bill would have sunk into the floor except for the two large guards holding him up. “I’m- I’m sorry, Boss. But he came outta nowhere! And then this chic tried to save me, before helping him. And-”

“So she heard you too?” He looked over at the other huddled man in his office. The official straightened up, suddenly elated that he may have a way out of this deal. Mask crushed it. “A problem from my side that I will fix shortly.”

Poor Bill had never been so terrified in his life. Maybe he should have faked his death. Bit by bit he stumbled through the information Red Hood got out of him, how much Sophia was there for, her name, the hospital logo on her scrubs, anything he could say to perhaps prolong his miserable life. 

At the end, Black Mask slowly stood, calmly walking around his desk. “The damage isn’t as terrible as it could’ve been. The nurse is easy.” He looked at his business partner. “She’ll be gone long before she can tell anyone. As for the Hood, there’s time to change docks. He is very welcome to show up at C. We’ll be waiting for him.” Suddenly he grabbed Bill by his shirt. “You better redeem yourself, Bill. My patience is at an end.” 

<\\\*///>

 So far so good. 

Sophia dropped her keys into the bowl by her door. With a sigh, she stepped into her kitchen, hoping to drink something cold. 

Instead, she held back a shriek. 

In the middle of her floor, Red Hood was splayed out face-down. A small but discouraging puddle had poured out of a wound on his side. 

“What on earth-”

He looked up at her voice. “Evenin’. Pardon the mess.” As his words started to slur he took a wheezing breath. “I was… trying… not, not to make a mess… on your carpet-” With that, his head thumped against the floor. 

For a second, Sophia couldn’t do anything. Who had done this to him? Why- She huffed. Questions were for after the patient woke up. Slamming her side kitchen drawer open, she quickly slid on the spare gloves that filled various storage in her apartment. 

Thankfully, it didn’t take much to stop the bleeding, but it was hours before Sophia considered him stable. After patching him up, one of the first things she did was to carefully remove the helmet to check on his breathing. Thankfully, for both of them, his domino covered enough of his features. Not that she felt she could have  identified him either way. She slept in fits, huddled next to her couch while Red Hood dozed between terrifying murmurs. 

What kind of life had he led?

As dawn broke, blinding through her window, she glanced at his sleeping form. “You’ve had a rough life, bub.” 

“You should see the other guys.”

“Ahh!” Sophia jumped up, wielding her kitchen knife. 

“Please don’t make me bleed again. Especially after patching me up.” He leaned up with a groan, hugging his side. His hand met with bare skin beside the bindings. “What kind of establishment is this? Couldn’t at least ask me out to dinner first?”

Sophia rolled her eyes, gathering up her supplies. “You drop yourself into my apartment, and then get qualms about a nurse fixing you up? Sweetness, I have dealt with hundreds of patients. There is nothing I haven’t seen. Except what you’ve got going on under your pants. They’re still intact, doofus.” 

He peeked under the blanket, smirking. “Too bad for you, huh?”

“You’re also not my first flirt that I’ve turned down.”

“Ouch.” 

Stuffing everything away, Sophia avoided his gaze. “But about the rest of you… you’ve got an awful mess of scar tissue.” His breath hitched before she could turn around. When she did, he was just as smug as before. “How long have you been doing this?”

He shrugged. “Don’t worry about it. There’re enough issues in Gotham without that menagerie.” When she continued to glare at him, he cleared his throat. “Well. Thanks for the help; I should be going now.”

“How’s Bill?” 

“Gotta couple new bruises- No. You’re gonna stay outta this.”

Sophia stepped in front of him, blocking the path to her fire escape. “I’m already in this. I heard what Black Mask has got planned. You dropped in on my home. How did you even find it- Nevermind. Come on. What have you found out?” He brushed past her for his helmet, catching the edge of the end table with a yelp. “At least let me know that I’m going to be the one you drop by for help since you’re so prone to injury.” She held his jacket out of his reach until he snagged it. 

With a pout, he muttered, “I’m not prone to- Ow! Hey-” He grunted and held where she poked him in the side. “Well, I’ll be seein’ ya. Thanks for the help, Doc.”

“I’m not a doctor, I’m a nurse!” 

But he was gone. Again. 

Sophia slammed shut her window. “He’s got to stop doing that.” Her shoulders slumped. Scattered to one side was his shredded shirt and his empty gun holster. Jerk. After cleaning it, she laid it out on the fire escape. As well as a spare energy drink. Everything was gone before her next shift.

<\\\*///>

 Despite the fire escape being squeezed into a narrow alley, it was just wide enough for a man to stand behind the dumpster. He watched Red Hood come and go twice.

And watched Sophia leave for work. 

<\\\*///>

***

Chapter 3: Here

Intrigued? Interested in a commission of your own? Check out more information here: Guidelines Here

Masterlist 

[munstysmind]

Fictober Day One: I Choose You

PARING/S: Chris Evans x Unnamed OFC

WARNING/S: Mention/s of mental health, toxic behaviour from ex

DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT GIVE PERMISSION FOR MY WORK TO BE USED IN ANY CAPACITY

Divider by @firefly-graphics

MAIN MASTERLIST

FICTOBER 2022 MASTERLIST

please let me know if you would like to be added to a tag list

Letting out a deep groan as her sleep edges further and further away, she stretches out her whole body, releasing the tension from her sleep before relaxing back into the mattress.

She looks over and lets out a sigh when she sees his side empty, he's probably out walking Dodger, before up at the ceiling and staring at the sun peeking through the edges of the blinds on one of the skylights with a blank look on her face.

As much as she loves to snuggle up with him in the mornings, it's probably for the best he's not in bed next to her right now.

She's been struggling the past few weeks and just doesn't have the energy to mask it. She always tries her best not to let him see when she's having a rough patch, especially when he's getting ready to go away to film, because it only adds to his anxiety and she hates it, seeing him anxious.

There's not much he can do to help with the way she's feeling anyway, she's in her own head, her brain telling her what everyone is saying online is true. And it is, she knows it is.

His fans are right, she's not good enough for him, never was and never will be. She needs to end this, it's not fair to either of them to prolong the inevitable reality that they're never going to work long term, they're just too different. He's a big movie star and she's just a regular girl who works in a fancy cupcake shop.

Then there's the matter of her ex. After two and a half years the bastard still hasn't accepted that they're not together anymore. Constantly hanging around her work, harassing her, demanding she take him back. It got so bad at one point she started having panic attacks at just the thought of having to go into work because she knew he would be there.

That's when, after witnessing one of these attacks, she broke down and told Chris what was happening. To say he was upset that she'd kept it from him is an understatement. It was the cause of their first fight. It ended with her telling him, through tears, that she wasn't trying to hide it from him, she just didn't want to involve him because her ex was her problem, not his and she didn't want to cause trouble for him.

It made him feel like a complete dick. She was thinking of him, of how to avoid him copping any fallout from her ex's actions and he made her cry over it because he was only thinking of himself and his own feelings.

After the dust settled, they'd had a long conversation where they let everything out and promised to not keep important things from each other, regardless of what it was... a promise she's currently breaking.

Refusing to let herself think about the voices in her head, she quickly wipes away the tears that have decided to show up uninvited and kicks back the covers before getting out of bed and wandering into the kitchen.

That's when she sees it, the note propped up against her treasured coffee maker, his handwriting scribbled across it and her heart almost stops. This is it, this is how he's ending it.

She lets out a shaky breath as she picks it up and unfolds it, holding her breath as she begins to read.

Tears she didn’t know had formed fall onto the paper, making the ink run as he comes up behind her and wraps his arm around her middle, gently pulling her against his chest.

She turns in his arms and buries her face in his cheats, her own arms wrapping around him in the process.

“I choose you too” she whispers into his chest, repeating his words back to him as he presses a kiss to the top of her head “I choose you”

TAGLIST

@aussieez, @rookiemartin, @babeyyemor, @secretaryunpaid, @pixie88, @chickensarentcheap @fictober-event

[yukidragon]

Our Life - Mermaid AU - Scrapped Drafts

Recently I got to talking about the dark fantasy mermaid AU I wrote up a while back for Our Life: Beginnings & Always by @gb-patch. After posting the Family “chapter” of it, I posted a couple of teasers of the next part, but I wasn’t quite satisfied with how it turned out. After taking a prolonged break and looking back to examine it, I think I have a better idea of where I want to take the story, which will do a drastic change up to the direction I was going.

Rather than just leaving the previous version go unseen, I decided I’m just going to share it here in this post, because why not? Just as a warning, this writing is going to be pretty rough and potentially have continuity hiccups as I was making small tweaks to the previous parts due to events that happened in the Step 3 DLC (which means spoilers for said DLC.) It'll also be jumping around a bit, as I'll be showing off a few different scene ideas I tried and scrapped.

Eventually, I’ll hopefully post a full and complete story of this AU on AO3.

As a warning: this is mature writing, with some heavy topics involving trauma and implications of some bad things, so I’m going to slap on an Adults Only warning onto this snippet. This story is more mature than the gameplay for the subject matter.

Since I’m going to be going with the adults only label, I’ll throw in a bonus just for fun smutty extra scene I wrote as well at the end. Hopefully some Cove/Jamie spice can offset the trauma and dark implications that appear in this snippet. I hope you all enjoy it.

...

[Scrapped Chapter 3]

...

Jamie was a mermaid.

Such an idea had shocked Cove when it was nothing more than a fantasy. It was something he had been surprised to have never imagined before Jamie playfully suggested it to him not that long ago.

As a child, his desire to meet a real mermaid had been his greatest dream. Combining it with the woman he loved, the special person who he once childishly believed existed only to find him when he was lost, was so fitting it was almost overwhelming. The playful thought thrilled him and made him feel like a kid again to imagine it.

Now that it was a reality, Cove had no idea how to handle it.

It was impossible to tell how long Cove stared at Jamie, struggling to process everything, before he was forced back to reality when her strength finally gave out. Her grip went slack, and she started to fall despite his hold on her. He cried out in a panic as he lunged for her, quickly scooping her up into his arms.

A piggyback ride was out of the question when Jamie no longer had legs for Cove to hold onto, so he had to make do with a princess carry. The familiar weight of her body in his arms grounded him. It didn’t matter how strange it felt to touch fine scales where there should have been skin. No matter how shocking, her transformation was a secondary priority right now.

Jamie was back. She was warm and alive and real.

And she needed his help.

Jamie could barely keep her eyes open. Her breath came ragged and heavy. She had been worn to the bone, drained of nearly every drop of energy during her desperate effort to return home.

“It’ll… it’ll be okay,” Cove said when he found his voice again. “I’ll take you home to your moms, and then…”

The thought ended there. Cove couldn’t imagine how Jamie’s moms would react to her transformation when he was still struggling with it himself.

A shudder rippled through Jamie, and she rallied herself enough to shake her head, energy returning to her eyes as they went wide with fear and pinned Cove to the spot. “No!” she shouted. Her voice cracked before it weakened, as even what little energy adrenaline afforded her started to bleed away. “No, I can’t go… they’re watching my moms…”

The rest of Jamie’s warning was lost as her voice finally failed her, coming out as incoherent mumbling that grew fainter with each word. What little more Cove managed to catch didn’t make sense, but he understood at least that he couldn’t bring Jamie back to the Leimomi house.

Of course, bringing Jamie across the street from her childhood home instead might have not been the best idea either, but, in his defense, Cove hadn’t been in a state to think straight after she slipped unconscious. All he could think about was bringing somewhere safe right away, and if her house wasn’t then the next place was his childhood home. He at least made sure to slip in from the back, away from the street between their houses.

It was fortunate that Cliff was asleep and didn’t mind his son visiting at odd hours of the night. Cove was still struggling with the sudden shift in his reality without having to try and explain things to his dad.

Not that he knew much of anything to explain.

As a child, Cove often had fantasies of sneaking a mermaid - or mercreature - home. He would hide them in the bathroom attached to his bedroom, knowing that his dad would never look in there if he just said to stay out. The mercreature would hang out in his bathtub and tell him all the wonders of the underwater kingdom while he shared what it was like living on land. Then they would sneak off to the ocean together and have amazing adventures.

After meeting Jamie and becoming so close to her, his childish mind added introducing her to his merfolk friend in those fantasies. Then it would be the three of them going off on magical adventures under the sea.

Eventually the fantasy lost its sparkle, and Cove found himself preferring to imagine spending time with Jamie in the mundane world. Although the idea of mermaids would always hold a special place in his heart, he had grown content with letting them remain nothing more than fantasy.

It was these thoughts that came to Cove’s mind as he gently laid Jamie down into the bathtub. There had been a short war in his mind between letting her rest in his bed or taking her to the bath, but in the end he worried what might happen if she remained out of the water for too long. At the very least, he could make her comfortable by washing the sand and salt off of her body.

More importantly, he needed to clean her wounds.

It had been easy for Cove to overlook all the bruising and scratches on Jamie’s skin earlier when the lighting was dim and there were more shocking things for him to focus on. Now in his well lit bathroom, her injuries jumped out at him and became his priority.

Not long ago, the idea of stripping Jamie would have been a problem for Cove. Fortunately, the two of them had overcome that obstacle together in the most wonderful way, in this very house in fact. It didn’t take long for him to grow intimately familiar with his partner’s body after that, each curve and plane forever etched in his mind.

Which made seeing half of Jamie’s body so radically transformed feel all the more wrong.

The clothing Jamie wore was strange as well. Though it had clearly seen better days, despite the frayed edges and tears, it was a beautifully colored tunic with ornate stitching. The material felt unusual, reminding him a bit of silk in how smooth and cool it was, but thicker. Somehow it barely seemed wet as well, but Cove didn’t care to examine it more than at a cursory glance while he carefully stripped the garment from Jamie’s body.

Removing the tunic revealed Jamie had a necklace tucked underneath it. At the end of the dark cord was a dazzling multicolored crystal of an unusual shape, framed by intricate metalwork. It was beautiful, but what caught his eye more was the much more humble keychain attached next to it.

Cove could never forget the dolphin keychain that he had gifted to Jamie over ten years ago - she always made sure to display it in a place of honor in her room until eventually attaching it to her phone. She had somehow kept it in pristine condition despite how well loved it was. Now, however, the precious keychain was in as rough of shape as its owner, battered from water damage and who knew what else, the once vibrant blue fabric dull and tattered.

Cove had to take a moment to fight back the tears stinging his eyes, his throat choked with emotion. He didn’t have the heart to remove the necklace and separate Jamie from the keychain when she had clearly gone to great lengths to keep it close in spite of whatever ordeal she suffered through. He made sure to work around it instead when cleaning her wounds.

The injuries, though alarmingly numerous, appeared mercifully mild. Cove could only hope there wasn’t something more serious he didn’t see, like a broken bone. The idea of bringing Jamie to a hospital and what people might do to her was too much for his frazzled mind to think about right now.

There were too many horrifying ‘what if’ scenarios popping up in Cove’s head for him to handle. It was all he could do to focus on taking care of Jamie.

There was no issue in having enough waterproof bandages in the medicine cabinet’s first-aid kit. Years of spending most days splashing around in the ocean made it a priority to keep such medical supplies on hand that could handle repeated contact with water. Even after moving out, his old room and bathroom were still stocked and ready for whenever Cove visited. He made a mental note to thank his father for that later.

The worst injury Jamie sported was the red and raw skin of her left wrist underneath the shackle binding it. For a moment, Cove could only stare at the restraint in silent horror at the implications.

What exactly happened to Jamie during those weeks that she was missing?

It was torture waiting for answers, but Cove had no choice. He worried too that whatever happened might have left Jamie too traumatized for her to speak of it, even to him. He had to prepare himself to accept that as a definite possibility.

No matter how much Cove wanted answers, Jamie’s mental and physical well being always came first before anything else.

Cove glared balefully at the shackle. If nothing else, he was going to get rid of that damned thing before Jamie woke up.

The shackle was strangely ornate, made from a dark red metal with etchings of strange symbols decorating it. If not for the four large links of chain still stubbornly attached, it could have been mistaken for an excessively large and thick bracelet. Strangely enough, there was no sign of hinges or a lock, but Cove wasn’t about to question how the culprit attached it to Jamie when they also somehow managed to transform her into a mythical creature.

The answer was magic, as simple and insane as that.

Cove gently placed Jamie’s hand down on the lip of the tub, wincing at the way the metal clanked harshly against the porcelain despite the care he took. He noticed Jamie flinch at the sound, and immediately he focused on her grimacing face.

To his alarm, Jamie thrashed away from him, colliding her newly bandaged shoulder into the tiled wall as her arms flew up in a defensive cross in front of her face, her tail twisting and tucking in close to her body. In her half-conscious daze, she yelped something that Cove couldn’t understand, but he couldn’t mistake the panic in her voice.

“It’s okay,” Cove said softly, trying his best to sound soothing. “Jamie, it’s okay. I’m here. It’s me, Cove. It’s okay. You’re safe now. You’re safe, I promise.”

Cove continued to murmur reassurances until Jamie began to relax, her arms lowering slowly. She blinked her dark blue eyes repeatedly to rid the haze of sleep from them as she finally focused on his face.

“Cove…?” she murmured, still in a daze.

Relieved, Cove offered Jamie a weak smile. “Yeah. It’s me. I’m here. You’re sa-”

Cove didn’t get the chance to finish his sentence before Jamie suddenly latched onto him in a desperate hug.

“Cove!” Jamie cried before she buried her face in the space between his shoulder and neck. She babbled his name almost in a mantra, the words muffled against his skin as tears spilled forth freely from her eyes. The relief she felt was so strong it left her trembling as she clung desperately to her fiancé.

She was back home. She escaped.

Cove returned the hug just as desperately, drawing in as much comfort from Jamie as she did from him. He could no longer hold back his own tears, and he let them fall free as he pressed his cheek into her damp blue hair.

For a long time, the two simply remained like that, holding each other while crying out all of the pain and suffering they endured during the weeks they were apart.

Eventually their desperate grip on each other softened to tender touches. Jamie slid her fingers through his seafoam green hair, reveling in the familiar softness. Cove shivered delightfully at the feeling and gently cupped her cheek, shifting them both so that their foreheads touched. He closed his eyes for a moment as he simply breathed in the relief of having the woman he loved back in his arms. When he opened his eyes again, he gazed deeply into night blue eyes, which he had started to fear he would never see again.

“Are you okay?” Cove asked softly when he finally found his voice again. The question was woefully inadequate given the circumstances, but it needed to be asked.

Although Jamie looked exhausted, with dark circles beneath her eyes, she still managed to smile sincerely. “I am now.” She leaned in with purpose, and Cove was only too eager to meet her lips with his own.

For a little while, questions were forgotten. The only thing important was simply drinking each other in. One kiss led to another and then another with neither of them wanting to stop when their bodies began to burn as relief slowly gave way to desire.

A loud clatter of metal striking porcelain shocked the pair apart. Jamie had forgotten about the shackle binding her when adjusting her hold on Cove and accidentally bumped it against the lip of the tub. The mood was broken, the sound a sobering reminder that everything was not alright yet.

Cove glared at the shackle before reluctantly pulling away from Jamie. “Wait here. I’m gonna get some bolt cutters and take care of that thing.”

Jamie snatched a fistful of Cove’s shirt, preventing him from leaving. His attention snapped back to her instantly, and she shook her head, her expression tired. “Bolt cutters aren’t gonna cut it.” She offered him a bent smile at the unintended pun. “You wouldn’t believe what I had to go through just to cut the chain.”

Cove regarded Jamie for a moment before he pointedly trailed his gaze to the lower half of her body. “I’m pretty sure I’d believe just about anything at this point.”

Jamie looked down at the tail that had replaced her legs and let out a breath that failed to be a laugh. “Yeah…”

Cove took a hold of Jamie’s bound hand delicately, the chains clinking from the movement. “What happened, Jamie?”

Jamie peered deep into Cove’s beautiful aquamarine eyes that gazed at her with worry and affection in equal measure. She sighed before lacing their fingers together to ground herself. “There’s… a lot. Way too much.” She took a moment to gather her thoughts. “I guess the short version is… mercreatures are real, and they’re assholes.” She gave him a lopsided smile. “Sorry to have to break it to you.”

Cove tried to return the smile unsuccessfully, though he did appreciate that Jamie was in good enough spirits to make an attempt at humor.

The smile slipped from Jamie’s face, and she sighed as she leaned into Cove. “And that especially includes my birth parents. Who are actually alive. And merfolk.”

Cove’s eyes widened as his mouth dropped open in shock. Despite Jamie’s radical transformation, he never imagined that it had anything to do with her family.

“So… this is my ‘real’ form,” Jamie said bitterly while throwing a gesture to her tail with her free hand. She shifted the large appendage, waving the fin at Cove a little. Though the gesture was almost playful, there was no hiding the unhappiness from her expression. “My aunt turned me into a human with magic when I was a baby. There’s a spell that should turn me human again, and I’m pretty sure I know how to cast it, but I haven’t actually tried it since I’ve been underwater all this time.”

Though Cove tried to remain quiet to give Jamie the freedom to explain at her own pace, he couldn’t help a startled outburst. “You can use magic?”

Jamie offered Cove a bent smile. “Yeah, one of the few perks about this whole mess.” She sighed, tilting her head back as her eyes drifted towards the ceiling. “They said I’m a special kind of mermaid called a siren. Sirens are super rare because they’re supposedly closely connected to the source of magic, some god whose name hurts my ears.” A shudder rippled through her at the memory, and it took her a moment to continue. “Other mercreatures can use sirens to get stronger. So that’s why they kidnapped me… to use me.”

Cove sucked in a hiss of air, his expression going tight. It took all his willpower to keep quiet so that Jamie could continue her explanation.

Jamie took some solace in the outrage in Cove’s eyes and snuggled against his body, soaking in his comforting presence. He responded by wrapping her up in his arms, holding her close.

“Yeah,” Jamie muttered as she closed her eyes. “Apparently my birth mother’s sister felt the same way we do about that, so she hid me in our world and faked my death using a sea monster attack.” She tried to smile, but it failed to be much more than a grimace as a shudder rippled through her. “Sorry to say, those are real too.”

Cove shivered a little himself, not just at the news that monsters were actually real, but because the haunted look at Jamie’s eyes told him that she had seen at least one for herself. The stuff people dreamed up for movies and ghost stories were bad enough, but the idea that monsters actually existed - worse, Jamie had been forced to encounter one… “I’m sorry.”

Jamie squeezed Cove’s hand, and he was quick to return the gesture.  “If it helps, they’re in the other ocean, not ours.”

“‘The other ocean’?” Cove repeated, blinking.

“That’s what I call it anyway,” Jamie said wryly. “It’s like our ocean, but there’s so much stuff in it that’s like nothing we’ve got here. Mercreatures aren’t from our world, but I guess another dimension or something, and they can get here using these really powerful magic crystals.”

At the mention of a crystal, Jamie’s gaze dropped to the necklace, drawing Cove’s attention to the unusual jewelry she wore. She straightened up and used her free hand to pick the crystal up, offering him a better look at it. “I managed to steal one when I escaped.” A small but viciously proud smile tugged at her lips. “And I made sure to destroy the others they had too.”

Her smile faded away as though it had never existed in the first place. She set the crystal down before delicately stroking the dolphin keychain hanging beside it. Although she didn’t comment about it, the action told Cove just how much having the keychain with her during her ordeal meant to her.

Jamie paused upon realizing she had gotten distracted and why, then turned back to Cove, her smile soft but filled with affection for him.

Cove couldn’t find the words for how he was feeling, caught up in too many emotions both good and bad, particularly the latter. The horrors Jamie had gone through and the consequences she was suffering from even now were immense and world shaking. Instead of trying to force it, he took the time to show her how glad he was to have her back home with him.

Gently, Cove squeezed the hand he held in his, as his free hand lightly caressed her cheek. He was rewarded by a slight pink flush beneath his fingertips, and Jamie closed her eyes with a shaky sigh as she took a moment to just savor the way he lovingly traced the contours of her face. His thumb stroked her jawline then brushed against her lower lip.

Playfully, Jamie kissed his thumb before flicking her tongue across the tip. She opened her eyes in time to see Cove turn red and suck in a breath of air, startled but certainly not displeased by the suggestive action.

“Cove…,” Jamie breathed before nuzzling into her lover’s hand. “I missed you so much,”

“I missed you, too,” Cove murmured before closing the distance between them.

For a little while, the only thing they could think about was breathing each other in, their kisses lingering and filled with love. The questions and trauma still lurked at the back of their minds, but for the moment they simply focused on comforting one another, and reminding each other that they were finally together again.

The moment, unfortunately, didn’t last as long as either would have liked. Jamie was the one who eventually drew back, her thoughts heavy and her eyes pained as she looked at Cove. “I… I can’t see my moms again,” she whispered, her voice fragile. She took a deep breath to collect herself before she went on to explain further. “They can spy on my moms whenever they want. If they see me, or, hell, if you tell them about me, they’ll know I’m here.”

Jamie rubbed her hand across her face, her anxiety growing as she plowed on ahead before Cove could fully process the news. “If they see you tell them I’m here, they’ll know to watch you too.” She let go of his hand to gesticulate wildly, the chains on her shackled hand jangling with every move of her left arm. “They let me see my moms all the time because they said if I didn’t do what they said, they’ll kidnap my moms too and hurt them.” Her body started to shake as her eyes grew wide and wild. “If they still have some crystals or make more, they can just come here and take my family and take you and they’ll…” She choked on her rapid breath, tears welling up in her eyes. “Oh fuck… If they tried to hurt you I can’t… I can’t…”

Cove pulled Jamie’s trembling body as close as he could with the bathtub separating them. He murmured soothing words in her ear as he stroked her hair. The picture she painted was terrifying, overwhelming. He didn’t know what to do except calm her before she blacked out from hyperventilating.

Jamie let out a keening noise as she buried her face in her fiancé’s neck once more.

Cove could feel the hot tears against his skin and his heart broke for Jamie all over again. He held her so close it was nearly painful and murmured against the top of her head. “It’s okay…,” he said on instinct, only to wince. “Well, no, it’s not okay, but we’ll figure this out.” His voice lowered, and he tried not to sound as worried as he felt, knowing he needed to be strong for her sake. “I won’t let them take you again, and I won’t let them hurt your family either.”

“Or you?” Jamie asked, her trembling voice muffled against Cove’s skin.

“Or me,” Cove said, nodding against the top of Jamie’s head. “I won’t let them hurt you again.”

Jamie let Cove’s reassuring voice rumble through her and tried with her whole heart to just believe in him as she always did. She knew he was just as uncertain and scared as she was, but he was being brave for her sake like he always did whenever she needed him. The memory of a little boy shaking in the wind even as he reached out for her hand brought a gentle smile to her face. It was this comfort, his very presence, that she ached for the most during this whole nightmarish ordeal.

It took a while, but Jamie was eventually able to calm down again. She shifted back a little, just enough so that she could look at Cove’s face. She managed a weak, but grateful smile before she did her best to focus on important matters.

“They can’t track me,” Jamie said. “Because of that god, they can’t use magic to spy on me directly.” She forced a short, bitter bark of laughter. “Apparently it’s like staring at the sun or something if they use magic to look at me, so they had to find out about me by interrogating my aunt, then tracked me down using the orphanage she put me in.”

Cove immediately drew a connection to the last texts Jamie managed to send him. “Was the person who tracked you the woman who said she was your mom?”

Jamie nodded, her expression growing uncomfortable. “Yeah… One of them anyway. She showed up when I took a walk on the beach to clear my head after my moms told me about her wanting to contact me.” A shudder rippled through her. “She’s…” She faltered, words failing her before she shook her head, her voice coming out weak and shaky. “She’s terrifying.”

Cove gave Jamie’s shoulder a squeeze before rubbing small circles there with his thumb. The sympathetic gaze he gave her told her that she didn’t need to go into more detail than that, and she was grateful for it.

Jamie slid a hand through her bangs, brushing them back as she let out a weary sigh. She opened her mouth to speak, only to close it again after a moment of silence. Her gaze wandered between Cove, her tail, and some point off in the mid distance.

Cove lightly ran a hand up and down along Jamie’s arm and gave her the time she needed to get her thoughts in order.

After a few minutes, Jamie finally focused on Cove, her smile faint and apologetic. “Sorry. There’s so much… too much… I want to tell you everything, but I just… It’s all…” She used both hands to rub her face, bone weary and frazzled. “They… they shouldn’t know I got a crystal. I hope. God, I hope they don’t know…” She paused to take a deep, shaky breath. “As long as I stay away from Mom and Ma, they won’t know for sure I came back. They’ll look for me around the palace and the outside and then…”

That was as far as Jamie could speculate, and her voice tapered off on a helpless note.

Cove tried to give Jamie more time, but his anxiety grew to the point that he couldn’t help but voice his growing worries. “I didn’t go to your moms’ place, and I haven’t seen them in hours, but we’re at Dad’s house. Do you think they’ll figure out you’re here?” He started kicking himself for being so short-sighted. Jamie herself had warned him to stay away from her moms’ house, but he took her right across the street from it!

Jamie met his worried gaze with her own before looking down at her hands as she flexed them open and closed in front of her. It took her a long moment to mull the thought over before she managed to respond. “They don’t care about you, or your dad, or our friends… They didn’t even pay attention to Liz. They hate humans a lot. A lot a lot… They’re only watching my moms because they don’t think anyone else is important to me. I didn’t tell them anything about me, and all they cared about me w-was…”

A shudder rippled through Jamie as she felt her skin crawl. She curled up into herself instinctively before burying her face in Cove’s neck again, gripping his shirt tight and pressing as close to him as she could despite the bath separating them.

Cove could feel the goosebumps rise along her back as he rubbed her there. Whatever she remembered had her tense to the point of trembling. “I’m here, Jamie,” he murmured into the top of her head. “I’m right here.”

It took a little time for Jamie to start to relax again, though she remained where she was, her fingers still hooked onto his shirt. “Sorry,” she mumbled. “I’m trying, I’m really trying to deal with all this and tell you everything. We should be safe here, they shouldn’t know, and I know I need to focus and come up with a plan, but I don’t know. I don’t know! And I’m so tired and I just… I just want to be happy I’m finally home with you… at least for a little while…”

Jamie’s already fragile words broke apart completely, and Cove felt his heart break with them. He shifted their positions and gently cupped her chin, tilting her head upwards so that he could see her dark blue eyes shimmer wetly. He placed a soft kiss on her forehead, then her temple, followed by her cheek. When her eyes closed, he made sure to place a delicate kiss on each eyelid. The kisses were brief as he focused on every inch of her face, eventually finishing with her lips.

Jamie couldn’t help but melt under such tenderness. It didn’t erase the fear, but it was a gentle reminder of just how much Cove cared for her. There was nothing else she wanted more in this world or any other than to be with him, and for the moment she was able to focus on nothing else but how much she loved him and how much he loved her in return.

“It’s okay,” Cove said gently, lightly stroking Jamie’s cheek with his thumb. “We don’t have to talk about it right now.” He lightly pressed his forehead against hers, gazing deeply into his fiancée’s eyes as they fluttered open again. “I’m just glad you’re here.”

“Me too,” Jamie murmured as she managed a small but sincere smile.

After a moment, however, she shifted with some discomfort due to the confines of the bathtub and her smile turned lopsided. “Though… maybe here could be a bed instead? I’ve had enough water for a while.”

Although Cove wanted to give in to the request, worry caused him to hesitate. “Will you be okay?” His gaze trailed significantly to her tail. “You won’t, ah… dry out?”

Jamie let out a weak chuckle. “Merfolk are surprisingly durable. Maybe it’s because they’re built for land and sea, but there were plenty of places that had dry land in their underwater kingdom.”

Cove blinked, surprised for a moment before a thought clicked in his mind. “Because they know that spell that can turn them human, right?”

Jamie nodded. “That, and some mercreatures don’t need it. It seems if you have tentacles instead of a tail, you can walk on land just fine.” She looked down at her tail, shifting it uncomfortably. “Not that I’m wild about either option.”

Cove gave Jamie a sympathetic look. “You said you think you can cast that spell that’ll turn you back into a human, right? Do you need to do anything special for it?”

Jamie sighed and stretched out her tail. “Just some rest and practice until I get it right, pretty much.”

The answer hung between them for a moment before Cove nodded. It was clear to him that Jamie was too mentally and physically exhausted to attempt it now, and he wasn’t about to push her on the subject. He focused instead on fulfilling her earlier request and making her more comfortable.

Despite the change in Jamie’s body, Cove had more than enough practice carrying her to lift her up out of the bath with ease. He didn’t care how wet he got in the process as he held her close. His clothes were still damp from his earlier swim in the ocean anyway.

Cove’s childhood bedroom hadn’t changed too much since he moved out. Certainly, he had taken most of his personal belongings when he moved out, including his pet fish, but his dad had taken great pains to keep the place familiar and welcoming to him for whenever he wanted to visit. This meant that the bed was made and ready to be used.

Cove didn’t care that the bedsheets got wet when he laid Jamie down on top of them. It was far from the first time that he had climbed into bed still dripping salt water. He only left her briefly to lock his bedroom door to prevent his dad from potentially giving them an unwanted wake up call during their secret sleepover.

Having it happen just once was more than enough for a lifetime.

Jamie reached out for Cove upon his return, only to draw her left arm back when the jangling of the chains drew their attention back to the shackle on her wrist.

Cove frowned at the shackle, realizing in the excitement of reuniting, he forgot to finish treating her wrist. “We need to take care of that,” he said. “Hang on, I’ll be right back.”

Without another word, Cove rushed off to the bathroom and retrieved the first-aid kit, not wanting to be away from Jamie for even a second longer than he had to. Once he was by her side again, he sat down on the edge of the bed and set to work.

It was difficult to properly clean and bandage Jamie’s wrist with the shackle in the way, but Cove managed to carefully slip in some gause between the metal and her raw, red skin. It wasn’t the best solution, but it would at least help keep the wound clean and offered some cushioning between her skin and the metal.

With the injury treated, Cove then used a couple elastic bandage wraps to cover up the shackle and chain to keep the latter from swinging around. It didn’t erase the fact that the shackle was there, but at least with it covered, Jamie could be a little more comfortable.

Jamie looked over the large wrap on her arm and a wry smile graced her lips. “It’s not as cool as a cast, but it’ll do.”

Cove managed a bent smile in return. “Sorry. The only thing I know about casts is wearing them, not making them.”

That got a weak, but genuine chuckle out of Jamie, which Cove took as a victory. It felt good that, in spite of everything that had happened to her, he was able to lift her spirits just a little bit.

When the first-aid kit was set aside, Jamie wrapped her arms around Cove’s neck and pulled him close. He returned the embrace easily, only to be startled with a sudden kiss. His surprise was brief, however, and he was only too eager to lose himself in the kiss and in her.

Despite countless heavy thoughts weighing on her mind, for now Jamie was able to push them aside and just focus on Cove. The sweet taste of his lips, the warmth of his body pressed so close against her, and his comfortingly familiar scent of citrus and the sea wrapped around her like a cozy blanket that she just wanted to bury herself in forever.

The kiss ended reluctantly as the pair came up for air, their hot breaths intermingling between them. Jamie couldn’t sit still even as she caught her breath, slipping her hand up the back of Cove’s neck to card her fingers in his soft green hair. His hair was still soft and a pleasure to run her fingers through despite how damp it was from his earlier swim in the sea.

Cove smiled softly as he enjoyed the feeling and reached up to gently stroke her cheek before slipping his hand back into her hair to return the favor. He threaded his fingers lightly in the dark blue strands, combing down the entire length and admiring how it shimmered like flowing water before returning his hand to the back of her head to repeat the process.

Jamie sighed and leaned into the touch as her eyes drifted closed, her own hands slowing as she lost herself in the soothing sensation.

...

[Explaining the chain]

...

Jamie eagerly reached out for Cove upon his return, only to stop short of touching him as the jangling of the chains on her shackle drew both their attention. She grimaced and drew her left arm back, taking a hold of the end of the chain in her right.

Cove frowned at the shackle, growing frustrated by his own powerlessness to remove it. He sat down on the bed and gently placed a hand on Jamie’s shoulder. “Is there any way we can get that off of you?” he asked.

Jamie chewed the inside of her cheek for a moment as she mulled over what she knew. “I don’t know how they got it on me,” she said at last. “And they never took it off the entire time I was down there. They said there’s no way I could use magic to get it off myself, but I guess that could be a lie since they also knew I didn’t know anything about magic before they kidnapped me…”

“How did you break it before?” Cove asked hesitantly. Jamie had avoided answering the question earlier; he hoped asking again wouldn’t be a mistake.

Jamie took a hold of the final broken link of the chain, too mangled to unhook from the other links. “It’s a pretty crazy story,” she said before shaking her head a bit. “I still barely believe it actually happened, and I lived through it.” She took a deep breath then pressed on before Cove could respond. “The really short version is… I got a sea monster to eat the other end and blew it up.”

Cove stared in shock at Jamie. He admittedly hadn’t known what to expect, but that wasn’t anywhere close to what he had been guessing. “Really?”

Jamie nodded, her smile bending just a little with pride. “See, this chain was how they would take magic from me.” She held up the broken end of the chain. “This was a lot longer and was sort of like a magic pair of handcuffs, only the other end was easy to put on and off. One of them would wear it, and I’d basically be a living battery charging them up with magic.”

“It was like sending electricity through a wire,” Jamie continued.

...

[Surprised awakening]

...

When Cove woke up the next morning, everything that had happened the night before felt like a dream, one born of a desperate wish. He expected to find himself back in his apartment, alone. That was why it took him a few moments to realize that he wasn’t still dreaming and Jamie really was right there wrapped securely in his arms.

Emotions overtook Cove, and he pulled Jamie close, almost afraid that he would really wake up or that she might disappear again at any moment. He buried his face in her hair, quietly crying her name as tears came to his eyes.

It wasn’t the first time Cove woke Jamie up with a hug. It was the first time she woke up screaming.

Instantly, Cove jerked back in a panic, afraid he had somehow hurt her. Jamie lurched back as well, only to fall out of the bed entirely, pulling the blanket down with her.

...

[It’s hard for Jamie to sleep now]

...

Jamie hadn’t always been a light sleeper, but due to her sensitivity to sound, it didn’t take much noise to rouse her awake. Now, however, it was all too easy for her to slip out of sleep even when everything was quiet and still. That was why she was already awake when the first rays of dawn peeked in through the window.

Despite waking up in the comforting embrace of Cove’s arms, Jamie woke up tense, her body coiled like a compacted spring, ready to be set off at the slightest trigger. It took her a while to force her muscles to unclench and accept that she was really there with him, that this wasn’t all just some desperate dream she clung to while being trapped in the deep dark depths of another world’s ocean.

This is real, Jamie repeated to herself until she could finally believe it.

Once a little less tense, Jamie focused on Cove’s sleeping face. He looked so peaceful, just as he always did when they slept in each other’s arms. Delicately, she ran her fingers through his pale green hair, reveling in the softness. The gentle smile that slowly grew on his face as he sighed at her touch was familiar and wonderful. He looked so absolutely precious that she couldn’t help but lean in closer to press her lips against his forehead.

The kiss had been enough to rouse Cove from his slumber. Jamie watched as he blinked away the last traces of whatever dream he had been having and focused his beautiful aqua eyes on her. An array of emotions played across his face. First, there was that familiar relaxed recognition as he saw her. Next was shock, as her return after going missing for so long struck him almost as hard as when they found each other in the ocean last night. Then, as memories caught up to him, there was a more complex array of emotions that she couldn’t quite place, but no doubt they were caused by remembering the more otherworldly and unsettling aspects of her return.

“Good morning,” Jamie murmured. She smiled gently at Cove as she waited for him to fully wake up. After a moment, he returned the smile a bit more delicately.

“Good morning,” Cove said, his voice soft. “How are you feeling?”

Jamie made a quiet rumble at the back of her throat as she seriously considered her answer. “Better than I have in weeks,” she finally said with a slight bend to her smile.

Cove supposed that would be the best they could hope for given the circumstances. He couldn’t help but notice the dark circles that still lingered under her eyes. “Did you sleep okay?”

Jamie considered giving Cove the same answer as before, but thought better of it. “Not really,” she sighed and closed her eyes as she pressed their foreheads together lightly. “It’s hard to stay asleep now. I couldn’t really rest in… that place. They wouldn’t leave me alone, and sometimes…”

The way Jamie stopped talking made Cove’s stomach drop. He chewed on the inside of his cheek, struggling to decide if he should let her leave things there or if it would be better to coax more out of her. Ultimately, he decided to encourage her very gently to continue, if only to unburden herself of the ordeal she had to face in that other world.

“Sometimes…?” Cove said slowly, hoping he wasn’t pushing her too far.

Jamie looked off at some point in the distance. She pressed closer to Cove on instinct, breathing his familiar ocean-y, citrus-y scent that was distinctly him, with an undercurrent of something more musky and primal underneath. Neither of them had bothered to get dressed after making love last night, and she could still feel the faint but pleasant thrum of her body that always lingered a while afterwards. All of it was a reminder that she was home, Cove was right there with her, and she was finally safe.

Still, that didn’t make it easy for Jamie to figure out exactly how to tell Cove about the nightmare she experienced in the other world.

Eventually, Jamie returned her focus to Cove once she was ready. “You remember how I told you merfolk use sirens, right?”

Cove frowned, but nodded. The idea that people wanted to use Jamie for anything sickened him.

Jamie took a deep breath and let it out slowly, trying to calm her nerves. “A big part of how they use sirens involves…” She faltered, really not wanting to put it bluntly, but struggling how to be delicate. “...Stockholm syndrome.”

“Stockholm syndrome?” Cove repeated slowly, his brow furrowing a bit. The term sounded familiar, but he couldn’t quite figure out where he had heard it before or what it meant.

Jamie bit back the urge to sigh. She couldn’t blame Cove for not getting her meaning when she was being so indirect. “It’s when captors make their kidnapped victims get emotionally attached to them… even…” She felt sick forcing the next words out. “...even love them.”

Cove froze, his eyes flying open wide.

Jamie grimaced, but forced herself to push on with the explanation before Cove started to panic. “Apparently, the more I care about someone, the more of my magic they can take from me, and if I love someone, they can gain this special power from the god of magic. I didn’t exactly find out many details about that part considering I only know that much by managing to overhear a couple merfolk talking about how much they wanted that power.”

It was hard for Jamie to watch the shock and horror play across Cove’s face, so she focused on her hand as she drew small circles on his shoulder with her finger. “So… I couldn’t really sleep, because some of those bastards thought I’d like them more if they snuck into my cage and…” Her hand stilled and her voice dropped to a fragile whisper. “...Tried to seduce me.”

“Oh my God,” Cove gasped, utterly horrified at the implications. Instantly he sat up, his back going ramrod straight as he began to panic. He didn’t even notice he knocked the blanket halfway off the bed, his eyes focused only on Jamie. “Did they… did… are you okay?!”

Jamie forced out a mirthless chuckle as she reached up to stroke Cove’s cheek, trying to be as soothing as she could given the circumstances. “Yeah. Ironically… my birth mother kept them from doing anything worse than pinning me down or using bad lines on me.” She met his worried gaze and offered a fragile smile. “She’s… she’s messed up.” Her gaze went distant, seeing something haunting in her memories. “She was convinced I loved her… and that she loved me, but that kind of ‘love’…”

A shiver ran through Jamie, and instantly Cove pulled her so close she almost let out a startled squeak. She recovered quickly from her surprise and snuggled into him as they laid back down together on the bed. There was no more reassuring feeling in the world, any world, than being in his arms.

“So… yeah…,” Jamie eventually muttered after she had calmed down a bit. “A lot of times when I tried to sleep, I’d wake up because I’d hear the cell door open, and either it’d be her, or some merman and sometimes when she was getting rid of them…” Her face twisted with nausea. “There’d be blood in the water… and I’d try not to breathe it in.”

Cove couldn’t bring himself to feel bad for the mermen getting bloodied when they intended to force themselves on Jamie. He couldn’t even really feel grateful that her birth mother had fended them off given how much the woman clearly traumatized her.

The only person Cove felt any sympathy for was Jamie. Unfortunately, he found himself at a loss. For a long while, all he could do was hold her close and rub her back, trying desperately to soothe away the small tremors that ran through her and goosebumps on her skin.

Cell, cage, chains, shackles… It was almost inconceivable for Cove to imagine, but Jamie had been chained up in an actual prison. She was still chained. Though she kept her left arm tucked under the pillow almost the entire time they were in bed, even while they made love, he couldn’t forget the shackle binding her wrist for a second.

And he doubted Jamie could either.

Then there was the violence, monsters, unwanted advances, emotional manipulation, and the unwilling transformation of her body… not to mention the kidnapping itself. All these horrible things were subjected on her for a power that no one, especially not Jamie, had any idea she possessed. It sickened Cove to think that he ever idolized the cruel creatures that made the woman he loved suffer so much.

A stab of guilt pricked Cove at the thought when he realized that sweeping generalization now applied to Jamie too. As much as she hated the changes to her body, it was hard to avoid the fact that she was a mermaid. He could feel her tail pressed up against his legs at that very moment.

Cove shook off the thought to focus on what was most important right now - Jamie was not okay. She might have been safely back home, but her body had been warped into a shape that repulsed her, and her experiences had left her with a level of trauma beyond anything he knew how to deal with. He couldn’t even suggest she get professional treatment for either, which meant they had to deal with it themselves regardless of how they felt about it.

A low rumbling noise snapped Cove out of his thoughts, and he realized it was the sound of an empty stomach demanding food. A second later he realized that wasn’t his stomach that made the noise.

Jamie blushed lightly as she placed her unbound hand on her stomach. “I didn’t really eat much there either,” she admitted in a quiet voice.

Cove smiled gently before leaning in to place a soft kiss on her forehead. Hunger, at least, was something he knew how to deal with. “Don’t worry, I’m sure Dad won’t mind making you all the food you can eat.”

A beat later, Cove realized that meant they would have to tell Cliff about everything that happened. He grimaced in spite of himself, not looking forward to the conversation.

Jamie let out a small chuckle at his expression. “Can I borrow a shirt first? I think we’ll need to show your dad some proof if he’s gonna believe something as crazy as mermaids being real.”

Cove appreciated Jamie’s attempt at levity, giving her a bent smile. “Yeah. He’s already gonna be shocked that you’re back even without that part.” He paused for a moment, his smile fading away. “Or the rest of it…”

Jamie nodded, her expression going somber. She saw the growing concern on Cove’s face and guessed where his train of thought was headed. “It’s… okay. To tell him everything I’ve told you, I mean. Even the… really unpleasant stuff.” She scrunched in on herself as she looked down. “I’ll be okay as long as you’re with me.”

Cove pulled Jamie a little closer before rubbing her shoulder soothingly. “I’m not going anywhere without you, but are you sure you’ll be okay?”

Jamie closed her eyes and sighed, her conviction wavering. “Maybe? I don’t even know… I mean… there’s still so much to tell you about what happened, and I want to tell you, but I also just want to forget it happened at all… but they’re still watching my moms, and I can’t even tell them I’m back and safe without putting them and everyone else in danger and risking them coming back for me and…”

Her rambling dissolved into wordless sniffles as Jamie could no longer hold back her tears. When Cove pulled her close, she buried her face into his shoulder and cried. For a while, that was all she could do.

No, Jamie wasn’t okay at all.

...

[Making love to a mermaid]

...

Cove couldn’t help but marvel at the way Jamie opened up underneath his fingers. It was strange how seamless the tail appeared to be up until he started rubbing in just the right spot. Fine scales parted on his gentle touch to reveal a slit of pink that he had grown intimately familiar with.

Jamie moaned as she felt Cove’s fingers delicately slide across the folds of her womanhood once it was uncovered. Despite the loss of her legs, his touch in her most intimate place still sent familiar waves of pleasure throughout her body. When his wandering fingers discovered that even as a mermaid she still had a clit, he wasted no time in lavishing his attention on the sensitive nub. The jolt of pleasure was so sudden and strong after going so long without his touch that she had to cover her mouth to stifle a cry as her hips bucked uselessly against his hand.

Cove didn’t want Jamie to stifle her voice. He wanted to hear her cry out in pleasure and babble his name senselessly while he drove her to the brink as she always did, but he knew if they were too noisy they would wake his dad up. The last thing in the world he wanted was for anything to stop them from making love after they had been separated for so long.

Instead of regretting that they had to hold back, Cove focused on pleasuring Jamie. He bent down, using his mouth on her as well as his fingers. Despite the transformation, the taste of her core was the same mixture of sex and sweetness that he could never get enough of. Her sweet spots were still the same as well, and he delighted in how he made her shudder and mewl when he teased those places with his fingers or tongue.

Jamie couldn’t stop moaning Cove’s name around her hand, practically biting it in her desperate attempts to keep quiet. After weeks without such intimacy and how much she had longed for him in all that time, her body responded more strongly than she was prepared for.

She was wound tight, too tight, and it was all too soon that the tension snapped, her back arching like a drawn bow as the world went white and she screamed into her hand.

Cove enjoyed watching Jamie writhe in the throes of her orgasm beneath him. He never tired of the sight of her absolutely overwhelmed with pleasure, knowing he was the one responsible for making her feel so good.

When Jamie finally fell slack onto the bed, boneless and panting for air, Cove withdrew his fingers from her. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand before wiping his hands on his pants as he sat up, turning his focus back to his fiancée’s flushed face. “How are you feeling?”

Jamie blinked blurrily at Cove, still deliciously dazed. She noticed the smug bent to his smile, which told her he already knew the answer, and he was quite pleased with himself for it. That look was so damn sexy. “Wonderful,” she sighed as she gave him a tired smile of her own.

When Jamie reached for him, Cove was only all too eager to embrace her, lying down beside her on the bed. Though their chests pressed close, he tried to keep his hips at a slight distance so that she wouldn’t notice his arousal. He didn’t want to make her feel obligated to focus on his needs while she was still basking in the afterglow. He lightly stroked her back and just relished the fact that he was finally holding the woman he loved in his arms once again.

“I love you,” Jamie murmured before nuzzling into Cove’s neck. She heard his heartbeat pick up as it always did when she said those words, and her own pulse quickened when she heard him murmur in her ear in return.

“I love you, too,” Cove said, his voice growing thick with emotion. “I love you so much.”

They drew closer, their mouths meeting in soft, leisurely kisses. It didn’t take long for those kisses to grow hotter, deepening as their hunger for each other was far from saited.

Jamie slid her hand down along her fiancé’s chest before tugging upward on his shirt. Cove was quick to comply with her silent request, breaking their latest kiss only long enough to strip the offending garment and toss it aside before seizing her mouth with his once again.

Once again, Jamie trailed her hands down Cove’s chest, but she didn’t linger there long, quickly crossing the plane of his stomach to blindly seek out the buckle of his belt. That, too, Cove was quick to remove. He didn’t bother waiting for her to go after the next garment and just stripped off the rest of his clothes, leaving nothing left to separate them.

Cove failed to stifle a moan when Jamie gently took a hold of his hard manhood. She used only one hand, the one not restrained by the shackle, but she knew exactly how to touch him to make him shudder deliciously against her palm.

To his surprise, Jamie was already trying to guide him to her, silently urging him to enter her already. Usually, they took their time, but she was unexpectedly impatient tonight.

Cove took a hold of her shoulders gently, breaking apart from their current kiss to gaze deep into her heavy-lidded blue eyes. “J-Jamie?” his voice shook, husky with desire. He tried to think of how to phrase his concern, but words failed him.

Fortunately, Jamie caught the implication anyway from his hesitation. “Cove, please…,” she said, her voice soft and almost heartbreakingly needy. “Make love to me. I need you.”

There was no way Cove could turn down such a request. Although he was still concerned, he carefully adjusted their positions so that the tip of his manhood hovered just inches away from her entrance. She seemed wet enough from his earlier ministrations, but he touched her again with his fingers to be sure.

Jamie buried her face against Cove’s shoulder to muffle her moans as his fingers gently pumped in and out of her. First it was two fingers, but soon it was three stretching her out inside to prepare her for more. She felt so full, so hot, and so touched by how careful he was not to hurt her.

Despite how wonderful Cove made her feel with fingers alone, Jamie wanted more. Shakily, she touched his hard heat once again, trailing her fingers upward along the length until she could run her thumb across the tip, feeling his own wetness already leaking out.

Cove had to quickly bury his face in Jamie’s shoulder to stifle a cry against her skin. Her touch was electric, sending jolts of pleasure through his entire body. His hips instinctively rocked into her hand as she gently slid it down and then back up again, quickly settling into a familiar rhythm.

Jamie couldn’t help but smile at how strongly Cove was reacting to her touch. She wasn’t the only one who was especially sensitive right now, it seemed.

It took Cove a moment to compose himself, and he leaned in to murmur directly into her ear, his voice low and ragged. “J-Jamie… if you keep doing that… I… I’m not g-gonna last.”

Jamie felt a delicious shiver run through her at the way Cove sounded, so breathless and aroused, and how his breath caressed her ear. After a moment, she nodded as she reluctantly let go of his manhood and placed her hand on his hip instead. As much as she wanted to pleasure him, her body ached to feel him inside her far more.

Cove sighed in a mixture of relief and disappointment when Jamie stopped. Truthfully, he wouldn’t have complained if she continued. Sometimes during their lovemaking sessions, they were so focused on making each other feel good that they would exhaust themselves before they could indulge in penetrative sex. Still, he understood - after everything they had been through this past month, he couldn’t deny that he was dying to be inside her just as badly as she wanted him there.

It took a little time to adjust to the changes in their usual positions that Jamie’s transformed body necessitated. The angle Cove needed to take was different, and she had no legs to wrap around him, leaving him to do the straddling instead. The feeling of her scales, however fine, against his thighs was also strange, but she still felt warm, soft, and smooth and above all else this was Jamie.

No matter what Jamie looked like, no matter how her body changed and how they had to adjust to those changes, Cove could never lose sight of the fact that the woman lying underneath him right now was the most important person in his world.

Despite the way her body burned, Jamie couldn’t help but notice the awkwardness in the way Cove moved, all because of her body. It made her unpleasantly aware of the wrongness of this new form, of a body that she was supposedly born to have that was just not her. The tail was so stiff, so constricting compared to her legs. She hated it so much.

“Jamie?” Cove asked, noticing the frown that had formed on his fiancée’s face as her gaze grew distant. He paused to cup her cheek, drawing her attention back to him. “Are you okay?”

Jamie blinked then felt a pang of guilt for the unpleasant direction her mind had wandered when they were about to make love. “Sorry,” she mumbled as she reached up to place her hand over his. “I want to continue, really. I… I really need you right now. I really do. It’s just…” She pointedly directed her gaze down to the lower half of her body. “I just hate this… thing.”

Cove felt his heart go out to Jamie. He bent down to kiss her, soft and chaste despite the heat of arousal that throbbed between them. “I get it,” he said softly as their eyes met again. “We’ll find a way to fix this, I promise.”

Jamie lost herself in another kiss, this one longer but just as tender as the last. “Cove…,” she murmured against his lips.

Words failed Jamie. All she could do was try to silently convey all of the intense feelings swelling inside her heart with her eyes alone as she stroked the back of Cove’s hand with her thumb. She lost herself in his mesmerizing eyes of aquamarine that she had feared too many times that she might never see again.

Fortunately, Cove understood that Jamie wanted him to continue. After giving her just one more tender kiss, he returned his focus to their positioning. Carefully, so very carefully, he eased himself inside of her, making sure to move as slow as his body would allow. The last thing he wanted was to hurt her, and although he hadn’t noticed any real difference inside her when exploring her with his mouth and fingers earlier, he didn’t want to risk misjudging just how much she could handle right now.

The pressure was heavenly. Jamie had to bite her lower lip to keep quiet as Cove slowly, deliciously filled her up inside. Despite the changes and all the things that were different and wrong, the feeling of his hard heat filling her to the hilt was exactly as wonderful as it was supposed to be. She struggled to keep her voice low as she moaned his name and wrapped her unbound arm behind his neck, pulling him closer.

Cove answered with a throaty groan of his own shaped around Jamie’s name. The exquisitely familiar tight heat wrapped around where he was most sensitive was almost too much. He wasn’t sure he could last long enough to make sure she came before he did.

A plan of action quickly took shape. Cove took care to balance his weight on one arm, freeing his other hand to reach between them, seeking out that little sensitive nub he knew drove Jamie crazy. He watched her blue eyes fly open wide as he touched her there while he slowly moved his hips.

The delicious friction both from within and without was almost too much for Jamie. She pulled Cove as close as she could so that she could bury her face in his shoulder to muffle the pleasured cries that fought to escape her. His thrusts were slow, delicate, but his fingers worked her in a faster rhythm, creating a contrast that made her squirm helplessly underneath him.

Cove struggled to keep his voice low as he murmured words of affection in Jamie’s ear, punctuated by ragged breaths and husky moans of her name. It felt so wonderful being inside her, the delicious heat of her body wrapped so tightly around him already so intense, but there was also the way she writhed against him, grinding their chests together. Although the noises she made were muffled, he could feel the vibration of her voice against his skin, each especially loud stifled cry letting him know exactly how good he made her feel.

What had changed didn’t matter - the only things that mattered were the pleasure and love they shared with one another. In that moment, they were able to forget everything else and lost themselves in each other.

[trendingblogwriter]

Mind Matters: Tips and Resources for Taking Charge of Your Mental Health

As we all navigate through the ups and downs of life, mental health has been a hot topic that has been receiving more and more attention. With all that is going on in the world right now, it's crucial to prioritize taking care of our mental health.

Mental health encompasses our emotional, psychological, and social well-being, and it has a significant impact on how we think, feel, and behave. It influences every aspect of our lives, from our relationships to our work, and it's important to recognize its significance.

One thing we must remember is that it's okay to not be okay. We all have rough patches in life, and it's essential to give ourselves grace and allow ourselves to experience our emotions. However, if we are feeling extremely low for a prolonged period or if our mental health is disrupting our daily routine, seeking help is necessary.

The good news is that there are various resources available for mental health support. If you're feeling overwhelmed or need someone to talk to, there are many options available. Whether it's a friend, family member, or a mental health professional, talking about your feelings can help alleviate the burden and help you feel better.

Practicing self-care is another essential element in maintaining good mental health. Self-care can take many forms, depending on your preferences. You could take a warm bath, go for a walk in nature, listen to your favorite music, or try something creative like painting or writing.

Mindfulness is a technique that has become increasingly popular for its ability to reduce anxiety and stress. It involves being present in the moment and focusing on your breath. This technique can help you stay calm and centered even in the midst of life's challenges.

Online resources and apps can also be a great source of support for mental health. Headspace, Talkspace, and BetterHelp are just a few examples of the many online resources that are available to help you manage your mental health.

Remember, taking care of our mental health is just as important as taking care of our physical health. We must make it a priority to care for ourselves and each other, especially during these challenging times. By practicing self-care, seeking help when needed, and utilizing the many resources available, we can all work towards a healthier and happier future.

[buffaluff]

TAG NINE PEOPLE YOU WANT TO GET TO KNOW BETTER! (from my pal @hixystix)

favorite color: orange! 🍊 but if i’m feeling pretentious, gold and turquoise (✨command gold baby ✨)

currently reading: i have a TBR pile on the floor of my bedroom that’s about knee height lol. possibly hip height, i’ve been bad about keeping up. right now quickly making my way through one called ALL THAT’S LEFT IN THE WORLD by Erik J Brown.

last song/album: shuffle has granted me Hanson’s “Smile” which is coincidentally my favorite song from my favorite band? But the complete album I haven’t stopped listening to since it came out in April is Orville Peck’s Bronco. Listen to my talented gay cowboy.

last tv series: I circle through a lot of my usual comfort shows, right now I’m rewatching Deep Space Nine (best). Also watching Santa Clarita Diet for the first time (good) and have been slowly working my way through the Hawaii Five-0 remake (bad).

last movie: My sister and I are working through animated Disney movies recently—tonight was Tangled and last night was Toy Story!

sweet / spicy / savory: I love spicy!!! 🌶🔥

currently working on: the will to get up and go to bed? i’ve been going through a prolonged rough patch (i know, aren’t we all) so while I wish I could say i was working on some art right now i’d be lying 🤷🏻‍♀️ I’ll get back to it someday.

tagging: if we’re mutuals i want to know more about you! so fill it out if you’d like 👍 buff has tagged you 🦬💖

[virucachaos]

Who asked the other out first? I think that would be an interesting story. Also, Veruca, how do you deal with Violet's self esteem issues?

"It was me, to the surprise of none of our friends. Violet had been going through a prolonged rough patch, and I actually waited to make sure we were close enough that she wouldn't take it as me messing with her."

Veruca sighs.

"Violet... she's been through more than people realize. I was too blind to notice myself, at first- and now I worry that everything I do won't make it up to her. Daddy even pitches in from time to time to help her feel more comfortable, but... I fear he overwhelms her. All I can do is be a shoulder to lean on. People change."

[newssy]

"50,000 Dekar Truck Se Kuchalwa Dunga"

Rakhi Sawant Reveals Getting Death Threats From Adil Khan Durrani, Forcing Him To Convert To Islam ( Photo Credit – Instagram ) Rakhi Sawant’s life is currently going through turmoil as she lost her mother recently from prolonged illness and now her marriage with Adil Khan Durrani has hit a rough patch. The actress has been making shocking revelations about her marriage with her husband after her…

[lunarmochi]

Hello, Luna.

I hope you're doing well. How's life treating you? Anything new to share?

I agree with your bio. Not everything stays forever. There are things that do stick with you for all eternity, and it's the experience, good or bad. That's including trauma.

But what you do with that experience, and how you view it..how you act upon it is what changes things for the better. You can prolong things, even if they're temporary. Especially the ones that make you happy.

Stay well, keep smiling, and whenever you're down, remember that there are people around that truly support and cherish you. Even if you aren't aware of it.



Yours truly,

Locks.

hello locks!

to be honest, lately, life has been a series of ups and downs. i've been through a lot in the past year, so forgive me if this message gets a bit long as i talk about it all.

i think i can confidently admit that i've achieved many things, even if i've been through a lot. one of the biggest milestones is my mental health. it went to deep shit for a while after going through a breakup, but then i decided that i would actively try to get better, and redirect my unhealthy behavior in hopes of improving it. i've always sorta known what i needed to do, but it wasn't until this year that it really hit me. i still have really rough patches, but i think i've gotten much better compared to where i was last year. baby steps. it's still progress.

but yeah, as i mentioned, i went through a pretty bad breakup. but after giving myself time to heal and going no-contact, i was able to make amends with them and have a genuinely open conversation. i'm proud to say that we're still very good friends, and they've been teaching me a lot about healing.

i also failed a class for the first time ^^;; so during my last two years of high school, i was simultaneously taking college classes, right? during my last semester of senior year, i made... a few mistakes and ended up a few percent away from passing one of my college classes. it really upset me, but i'm now retaking that class with a better mindset. but failing a class still humbled me and is a new experience i could say i've been through.

but on that note, i've started college! the workload is certainly easier. well, a little bit. i think it's been easier because of my improved mental health state. i've been taking my time and romanticizing little things like studying on campus and sitting outside in the sun, which is nice. i'm enjoying the long periods of free time i have, too, despite being busy a lot of the time. it's a bit stressful trying to find a job, but i'll get there. i'm trying to find a library job. i think the quiet environment would do me well, no?

another thing, i've gotten into vtubers lately! it's a bit embarrassing to admit out loud, because of how niche of an interest it is and how people might make fun of it, but it makes me happy to indulge in little anime people on my screen. a bit odd, but it's encouraged me to take care of my needs more. or rather, not feel pressured to be so present in group chats/servers. i'm kinder to myself in that i pull away when i need to, so i can focus on myself and my well-being.

i've... i've done a lot. there's so much to show, plus a lot i can't even remember.

but really? i think i've been really lonely, most of all. i've learned that healing is such a lonely process, on top of not having many friends at all goodness, i almost started tearing up there. i still find myself staring up at my ceiling, sometimes, yearning. wishing for what others so-casually have.

but in any case, thank you. genuinely, sincerely, i hope you're doing well too. i often forget that there are actually people that care about me, but little reminders like this mean the world to me.

and last of all, thank you for being my first anon with a title. it makes me happy knowing i have at least one, even if i'm a tiny account with no reach. i hope to see you in my asks soon <3

[spookybreadstick]

Here is something soft & sweet, as a humble apology for my prolonged absence... hope you all like it! <3 <3 <3

💞 Happiest Memories of the Pastas 💞

🍬 LJ’s happiest memory is playing with Isaac, once upon a time, before everything went south. LJ has sort of forgotten this memory, it was so long ago after all and it's a bit painful to look back on, but he does remember how it made him feel. Which is, very good and full of purpose. After all, this was what he was intended for. To be a friend to children, specifically Isaac.

🤍 EJ doesn't have very many happy memories. He supposes that his happiest memory was when he patched Toby up after a mission where he got hurt. Toby's a very chipper patient (he can't feel pain after all, and it wasn't a terrible injury either, so he was in a good mood) and he chatted away while EJ fixed him up. After EJ announced that Toby was all set to go, Toby had said, "Thanks, EJ! You're the best!" before he left the little 'infirmary.' It isn't much, but it made EJ feel very happy. He feels pretty lousy most days, about what he is, what he does, how he has to hurt people, but actually helping somebody was a nice change of pace. It made him feel more connected to his old self, and it makes him feel actually human. It's also just nice to feel appreciated as well, and it really just made EJ's day (Toby has no idea how much what he said meant to EJ).

🎮 BEN's happiest memory comes from a night he spent with Jeff, having a sleepover. In life, BEN didn't have any friends, much less any that would invite him to sleep over or even want to sleep over at his house. Here though, Jeff had become a great friend of his very quickly (and shortly after this incident, they truly became best friends). One day, they had a great time hanging out with each other and gaming. Jeff always said the funniest things to make BEN laugh, and he even laughed at BEN's jokes too! All was going great, although it was late at night by now. BEN had thought that Jeff would head back to his room, but instead he casually asked if he could just crash in BEN's room. BEN tried not to let it show, lest he look stupid, but he was ecstatic! He now had a great friend, who he just had a great time with, who actually wanted to continue hanging out and actually sleep over in the same room! He couldn't believe his luck, and he of course quickly agreed to this plan. That night, the two boys stayed up late, talking, laughing, and gaming. It was the night that really cemented the start of their best friendship.

🔪 Jeff's happiest memory comes from a time where he and Liu were very little. A time before the differences between the two brothers became more apparent, a time before their parents started to treat them differently, a time before the family fell into a cycle of toxicity, abuse, and neglect. A time before Jeff was subjected to the bullying and mistreatment that shaped him into who he is today. This was a time when Jeff was still just a little boy, wide eyed and cautiously optimistic about the world. It was right after his fifth birthday, and during an absolutely gorgeous day. It was a day that the two brothers played outside until the sun went down, and their mother called them in for dinner (featuring a favorite dish of theirs). They laughed and rough-housed and played for hours on end together, just the two of them in their own little world of brotherly love. In fact, right before their mother called them inside, the two had been laying on the grass together, side by side on their backs, when Liu had simply sighed happily and said that he was glad to have Jeff as his older brother. That had made little-Jeff feel incredibly good about himself, and he had responded that, while Liu was lucky to have Jeff as an older brother (oh, Jeff, he never did change, did he?), Jeff was glad that Liu was his little brother, too. It was a happy day for both boys, indeed.

🧣 Liu's happiest memory comes from a time where he and Jeff were young, probably about eight and seven, and their parents had left them alone for a whole weekend for the first time. He remembered feeling scared, because what if a burglar broke in the house? But Jeff had reassured him that nothing was going to happen to him, not while he was around to protect him. He even brought out a baseball bat to ensure Liu's safety, and that did make him feel better, knowing that he had a protective older brother in the house with him. That first night, they ordered pizza (feeling very grown-up) and watched movies late into the night. Liu remembers how excited he felt when Jeff told him not to worry about a bedtime, because they were the grown-ups in the house now, and grown-ups don't have bedtimes. The rest of the weekend passed by in a similarly fun fashion, and Liu looks back on this first weekend of freedom and fun with great fondness. Sully does not have any happy memories to speak of, sadly.

🖤 Jane's happiest memory is from one night that she won an award at her school, for her excellent grades, and her parents were so incredibly proud of her. Jane had felt quite accomplished, and her mother had even took her out shopping for a new dress for the occasion (she would have to walk across a stage to accept her academic award). After she received her award, the girl that she had a crush on at the time came up to her to congratulate her on the award, and to compliment her on her looks. Jane's parents then took lots of pictures with their daughter, took her out for a nice dinner, and kept telling her how proud they were of her. This was shortly after she came out to them as a lesbian as well, and it made her feel all the more validated that her parents not only accepted her for who she was, but also still loved her just the same and were very proud of her for her achievements.

⏰ Clockwork, sadly, does not have very many happy memories. In fact, the only happy memory that she has that really sticks out to her is the one week she spent in foster care, before being returned to her birth parents to suffer more abuse. That week she spent out of that house of abuse, and in the caring hands of her foster parents, was the best time she had in her whole childhood and probably whole life at this point.

💄Nina's happiest memory comes from a daddy-daughter dance that she attended with her father once. She doesn't remember too much about it honestly, it's more of just a happy, nostalgic feeling for her. She remembers getting dressed up happily in her best dress, and having a great time with her father. She especially liked that she could fit in with the other girls too, despite not having a mother (she often felt left out of a lot of mother-daughter activities, but here was an activity made exclusively for her and her father!) She remembers feeling very grown-up, as her father had allowed her to put on a bit of makeup at the age of around nine or ten, and she was also allowed to wear her mother's prized pearl necklace for the night, which made her feel connected to her mother and also like a bit of a movie star.

🧵Happy memories are not in his vocabulary, I'm afraid.

🎨 Helen's happiest memory comes from every time he's ever spent "in the zone" while painting, drawing, or otherwise creating art. It's not a one-time thing, it's an accumulation of happiness for him.

🎭 Tim's happiest memory comes from a night that he and Brian got high off of some stolen weed. They snuck out onto the roof of the mansion, and talked late into the night. He forgot about all his responsibilities and burdens for a night, and he felt like he could just truly be.

❓ Brian's happiest memory was a nice afternoon that he spent with Masky & Toby. It was nothing special, just a simple day of fishing and having a picnic lunch. He felt very connected to his two proxy partners, and it filled him with joy to see Tim so relaxed and Toby having some fun.

🪓 Toby's happiest memory was one of the last days he spent with Lyra. He doesn't remember too much of it, a lot of his trauma surrounding Lyra and her death has made him block it out, so it's more of a happy feeling than anything else. It does bring him comfort during hard times, and from what he does remember of it, it was a great day that he spent with his sister and it's precious to him now.

🧸 Sally's happiest memory was the day that Slender asked her if she'd like to be adopted by him. The two had spent a wonderful day together, and it was the cherry on top for him to ask her gently if she'd like to become his officially adopted daughter through a ceremony.

🌲 Slender's happiest memory was the day he decided to 'officially' adopt Sally as his, meaning that they performed a little ceremony at the mansion that "crowned" Slender as "the King of the Mansion"/Sally's father and "crowned" Sally as "the Princess of the Mansion" and Slender's daughter

[get-shiggy-with-it]

Ch. 2

Shigaraki Birthday Celebration! 18+ MINORS DNI

Pairing: Tomura Shigaraki x fem!reader 

Word Count: 3k

Warnings: reader is marked fem cause Tomura is a little sexist and hates you cause you’re a woman, no pronouns, incel!shiggy, collage au/no quirks, tomura is an asshole, gratuitous swearing, like so much, shiggy has a dirty mouth, mentions of shigs being anxious, brief male masturbation, tags will be added for smut in the next two parts

Ch. 1 | Ch. 2 | Ch. 3 | Ch. 4 | Ch. 5 | Ch. 6

Summary: In which studying is done, unwilling connections are made, and Tomura thinks about the way you smell a totally normal amount. 

AO3 mirror

Taglist: @dillybuggg​ (just shoot me an ask if you want to be tagged!

Tomura hadn’t stopped staring at his phone since he left the apartment. It was second nature by now—head down at a nearly ninety degree angle, hoodie pulled up to hide hair he hadn’t bothered to comb in weeks, and phone out, held just far enough away that he could see the pavement behind the screen. 

He’d found that people tended to naturally avoid him this way and he didn’t have to risk accidentally making eye contact. It was still a bit nerve wracking to venture into buildings he didn’t expressly have to for classes, so he was still hesitant to make the voyage from his apartment to the library.  But he’d made the mistake of mentioning plans to his roommate and the bastard wouldn’t leave him alone about it afterwards until he was practically shoved out with the door locked behind him. 

He was half tempted to make up some excuse last minute and go hide out at the only cafe on campus he could tolerate, but Tomura knew he was just delaying the inevitable. Biting the bullet now would help to not prolong his suffering. 

Your text thread glared up at him in stark white on blue as he pushed past a crowd of students by the library entrance and flashed his ID to the attendant. 

Group Project Bitch:

— hey I got us a room on the third floor, all the way in the back

—text me when you’re here I’ll wave you in, it’s kinda hard to find T-T

                                                                                                     sounds good— 

He shot off a quick text to you that he was hoping on the elevator. The other two guys in the lift may have given him a dirty look for only going up to the third floor, but Tomura sure as hell wasn’t going to risk the physical exertion of stares when just the thought being stuck in a small room alone with you for god knows how long already had him sweating. 

When he stepped out, you were leaned against one of the 90s-green shelves, scrolling aimlessly through your phone. He panicked momentarily, thinking he’d have to get your attention cause just walking up without saying anything would be weird right? 

He wasn’t sure. 

He didn’t do shit like this. 

Thankfully, you looked up at the chime of the lift and waved him over. His red sneakers squeaked as they scuffed the linoleum floors and he already regretted choosing his tighter fitting pair of sweats. The tapered legs that hugged his ankles and thin calves rubbed against his skin and stung the raw patches. 

“Hey, thanks for coming,” you said softly and he nodded, following as you began to weave through the stacks. “Sorry it was short notice, graduation’s coming up so I'm swamped with meetings.”

“It’s fine, I didn’t have anything going on.” 

He cringed internally at the way his voice cracked, trying to keep the usual rasp to a minimum. His roommate said it was from the innumerable hours he spent shouting at his monitor or on discord, which was probably true but to you he was sure he just sounded like a fucking teenager. 

“Cool, I’ve been set up for awhile so feel free to move some stuff,” you talked a bit louder now that you’d both stepped into the study room and shut the door. 

Tomura looked around. You’d snagged one of the nicer ones at least, with the big monitors he could cast his screen onto and those comfy chairs he liked but could never beat anyone too on the lower floors. 

You were right, there was shit all over the big table at the center of the room. Notes and printed out readings with highlights galore and sticky notes littering the pages were scattered all over. What a show off. You probably tossed all this stuff out so he’d think you were actually intelligent or some shit. 

Kicking a pile off of the nearest plush armchair, Tomura took a seat and pulled his laptop out. There was a jack in the middle of the table and you plugged yours in to cast onto the big monitor. 

You made a fucking power point for him. 

This couldn’t be real. 

“So I know I ran some stuff by you in class but essentially I was thinking we make like a simple Twine type thing using the rhetorical argument Swift is making…” 

You started rambling again and Tomura almost immediately tuned you out. His eyes drifted between the rough outline you were flicking through on the board and the laptop you had your nose buried in. 

It was covered in stickers, pretty obviously stereotypical for someone as obsessed with being ‘cool’ as you clearly were. But as he scanned through the various old meme phrases and aesthetic shit, he caught a couple of game references he recognized and a panel cutout from one of his favorite manga. 

He almost fell into your trap for a moment, feeling a rush at the prospect of someone—much less a chick—being into his main hyperfixations. 

But it was quickly crushed under everything his years trolling subreddits had taught him. People like you didn’t actually have interests beyond the attention and dick it got them. Plus that manga was pretty popular anyway, you probably didn’t even read it, just thought the line was funny or made you sound quirky. That had to be why you felt the need to drop it in your first texts. 

“What do you think?” you asked, making good on your new habit of startling the hell out of him. 

Tomura blinked, gaze instinctively turning to you but the blatant way you stared made his mouth turn to sand paper, so he looked resolutely back at the color-coded bullet points on the screen. 

“Look’s fine,” he mumbled. 

The more he glanced over it, the more it actually did look fine. A bit more than fine, really, which pissed him off even more. The little choose-your-own debate style story was not a terrible way to make fucking Whatever Swift interesting and it kinda looked like you’d bothered to google some simple coding which gave him a better idea of what you were looking for. 

It was...good. 

And that so fucking annoying. 

Well, he wasn’t sure if annoying was the right word for it, but the proposal coupled with your apparent lack of disgust at working with him made his face hot and that only ever happened otherwise when his roommate left the dishes out for weeks or when some newb on his server fucked up their raids. 

Then, you had the audacity to plop down in the chair next to him and— 

“You can tell me to fuck off if you want,” you began, shuffling in the chair to cross your legs on the cushion, “but I was hoping you’d be willing to show me how you do some of the coding stuff? I tried on my own, but I have literally no clue what I’m doing.” 

He could smell you again, like the whole fucking health and beauty aisle at the grocery store. When he turned his head a bit to look at you around the curtain of his hair, you were crooked—back against the armrest and facing him. 

“Why do you want to know?” he asked, sounding a bit less rude than he would have liked to. 

You just fucking stared right at him though, didn’t wrinkle your nose at how greasy his roots were or how he was wearing the same hoodies as yesterday. 

“I’ve always been interested in it, but my program is kinda stressful and I don’t have much free time so I never learned,” you offered and for once Tomura found he didn’t feel his skin crawl under your unwavering gaze. 

The dry, cracked area around his eyes burned though as sweat beaded on his forehead and he quickly wiped at his face with a loose sweatshirt sleeve. The garment hung off his shoulders, bought a size too big that he never ended up growing into. 

“What’s your major?” 

He found the words slipped easily from him. It was the quintessential question you asked of anyone in college when you met, but he’d never been interested in the answer before. 

You babbled a bit about your specific area of study and your voice was surprisingly not as infuriating as he remembered it being before. It was softer, he thought, than when you were soapboxing in class about the sexist implications of old as fuck poetry—it had a less grating quality and was almost pleasing to the ear. 

Or Tomura would have said that if he thought you deserved the compliment. 

But, obviously you didn’t. 

So he didn’t. 

He just pretended to care about what you were saying and didn’t hang onto every word at all. Actually he was more enraptured in the way your lips moved when you talked. You used your hands a lot too, but his eyes were ensnared on the way your mouth quirked and dipped, at the occasional flash of your tongue between strong teeth. When he leaned in a bit, he could smell your breath too: fruity gum and the remnants of whatever you were always drinking in that loud as fuck cup. He wondered now what exactly it was, so he could buy it and get a better idea of what you mouth might taste—

Nope. 

No, see this was exactly what he wasn’t supposed to be thinking about. How were you doing this to him? What a fucking slut. 

Tomura steeled his nerves as you started explaining the extracurriculars you did on the side. 

“My roommate freshman year actually started a gaming club and so I’ve gotten more into that over the years,” you explained, pointing at the stickers on your laptop case. 

“Are you talking about The League?” 

“Yeah, I didn’t know if you’d heard of it,” you shrugged.  

He knew of the gaming club on campus. He’d thought about joining when he enrolled but the allure of anonymity online gaming provided was too strong. Plus his discord server didn’t have annoying weekly meetings. 

The thought of you, up late and illuminated by the blue light of a tv screen, tucked away in one of the basement rooms in the media building was...strange. It also prompted an array of new images—you in those fucking cat ear headsets, seated in his lap as he trashed you in Mario Kart which was even stranger. 

Tomura had to physically shake his head to dislodge the thought. 

“Uh, we should probably work on this right?” he cringed at the way his voice cracked compared to your own, smooth tone. 

You should narrate those fucking sleepy time mediation things. His roommate used to hide wireless speakers in his room and blast those when Tomura stayed up too late. It was annoying as shit then, but if it was you talking, he probably wouldn’t have minded so much. 

Or no, no he would definitely mind. 

Yes. It would have been worse if anything. 

“Oh shit, you right. It’s been like two hours.” 

He glanced down at his laptop and saw that it had, indeed, been two hours since he got there. He’d willingly spoken to you for two goddamn hours. It felt like no time had passed at all, but the sun was definitely setting, the overhead fluorescent bulbs taking over as the main light source in the room. 

Weird. 

So you settled back in your chair, typing away like you always did, but the sound wasn’t nearly as frustrating as before. Occasionally, you’d glance over his shoulder and ask questions about what he was working on, but mostly the two of you settled into a comfortable silence. 

This pattern continued for the next few weeks. As the weather warmed, you began to show a bit more skin. He never worked up the nerve to comment on the thick expanse of bare thigh that tapered off nicely into your calf, or the curve of your arms not hidden behind knit sweaters—hell even your fucking shoulders were hard not to look at. 

Maybe all those high school dress codes weren’t actually so full of shit after all. Cause he was definitely distracted by the way your neck swooped into the exposed skin of your shoulder and down your back on more than one occasion.

Did all girls know that? Was it some kind of massive conspiracy to crumble the patriarchy or some crap to go flashing bare shoulders everywhere? 

Regardless if you really were trying to hypnotize him into liking you, Tomura stayed resolutely in his monochrome, long sleeved attire, and if you noticed the behavior you never said a word. 

Never said a word about his allergy ridden skin, peeling lips or scarred throat. Never commented on his terrible posture or said his eyes were creepy. Even when he’d occasionally toss a negative remark your way, you never retaliated maliciously. Just brushed him off with a jovial ‘don’t be a dick’ and a playful, but hard slap to his chest or the back of his head. 

The two of you always met in the same, secluded room on the third floor. You’d talk with him in class sometimes or shoot him texts about random bits of inspiration or a late night game memes, but for the most part, your conversations were confined to that room. He found he preferred the study room ‘you’ best. You weren’t as stiff. There was more of a solidity to you, like he’d seen when you told off that Kai bastard. 

It...grew on him. 

He was irrationally anxious that there would be a time when you couldn’t secure this particular room—with it’s big monitor and comfy chairs and less annoying ‘you’—but he’d been reassured after your third work session. 

Someone had knocked softly at the thick, wooden door and a head of wild, bright pink hair peaked around the crack. 

“Sup bro,” the intruder quipped, as they stepped fully into the room. 

“Hey, Spinner,” you mumbled back, looking up momentarily from the essay portion of your presentation before going back to typing. 

Spinner had seemed to notice him at that point and offered a small wave in his direction. “Oh hey, sorry, thought you were alone,” he said quickly. 

“Nah, this is Tomura,” you said, glancing up again and jerking your thumb in his direction. 

Tomura nodded and tugged at his hoodie strings to stop from scratching under the newcomer’s gaze. He’d gotten used to you, but other people still made him a bit nervous. 

“Nice to meet you,” Spinner had a nice smile, bright and flashy when he spoke. He leaned against the door and crossed his arms, looking around the room. “You got the nice one, huh. How’d you manage that?” he asked. 

“Yeah,” you half closed your laptop and stretched a bit. “Jin was working the front desk, so I’ve just been bribing him with vending machine snacks.” 

“He hasn’t gotten himself fired yet?” Spinner laughed incredulously, but not unkindly. 

“Surprisingly not, but he’s completely corrupt now,” you were picking at the cuticle of your thumb and Tomura fixated on the way the skin split off at the nail. Just like his. “A couple packs of chips and a Monster and I get the most bitchin study room whenever I want.” 

“Damn,” Spinner chuckled again and Tomura really wished that he’d leave already. He was beginning to feel himself fading into the upholstery as the conversation left him in the dust. The divergence of your attention away from him or the project was even more annoying that you were. “Well, are you coming to The League meeting tonight? We’re busting out a Smash tournament.” 

“That’s tonight?” you asked, eyes perking up but sliding subtly in Tomura’s direction. “Sorry, I think Tomura and I are gonna be working on this project for a while longer and I’m kinda burnt out. But next time, yeah?”

Spinner rolled his eyes but nodded and kicked off the wall. “That’s not very sexy of you,” he chided and waved a hand in parting. “Gonna work yourself directly into the fucking grave.” 

“Jokes on you, I welcome death.” 

You buried yourself in the screen again and Tomura actually felt a bit grateful for you ending the conversation before he got too painfully awkward. 

But Spinner stopped before he left, looking Tomura up and down from the frayed strings of his black hoodie to the tips of his worn red sneakers. 

“Nice to meet you, man,” he said with a wide grin. “Feel free to tag along next time if you want, we always need more players.” 

The door clicked softly shut behind him and Tomura relaxed back into the silence.

He did end up tagging along—though he spent most of the time hanging off your heels like a lost puppy—to the next meeting of your gaming club and the one after that. Frustratingly enough, he learned that your interests did also extend into skills as you almost bested him in a few rounds Smash. Your profile, lit only by the flashing screen lights, was even more striking outside of his imagined imitations. 

So much so that it found its way into his head late at night when he was too tired to log onto his server. So much so that it had his cock growing firm and tenting his grey sweats without even the visual aid of his go to porn clips. So much so that sometimes, he felt inclined to do something about the throbbing between his legs. So much so that he thought about the way you picked the skin by your fingers. How it looked like his. How your hand might feel like his but softer. Smoother around the edges. With your sweet voice whispering in his ear, making him whine and pant and spill white ropes of release onto his stomach. 

But it was only because you were hot. 

And you were practically begging for him to jack off to the thought of you with those outfits and liking all the shit he liked and noticing when he shrunk away from conversations or including him in them when he started to feel that awful sense of fading into the background. 

Yeah. 

Everybody jerks it sometimes to their group project partners if their ass is nice enough. 

Right?

[theseshipsshallsail]

The sound he makes sends a shiver down Oliver’s spine, heat pooling low in

his belly as he crowds Elio up against the brickwork. He’s so close he could count his freckles in the moonlight, trace the rough patch of stubble on his unshaven chin. It’s a moment suspended in time - a fantasy come to life - and the tightly bunched muscles of Oliver’s forearms are a testament to just how badly it affects him. 

Taking that final step he presses him against the wall, a low growl of want rumbling in his chest as he covers his mouth in a searing kiss. Elio gasps, meeting him with equal measure, and Oliver swallows down his smug laughter, reminding himself to breathe. He’s never considered himself the reckless type, but the phantom sighs of Elio’s pleasure ring in his ears as he grinds the evidence of his surrender over his thigh, and the ease with which he dismisses the drudgery wrapping up mere metres away settles in his gut in a manner that’s somewhat alarming.

“You did that on purpose,” he says, nipping at the blush-red lip that’s been tormenting him all throughout dinner.

Where Elio produced the lollipop from he had no idea, but Oliver has been sporting a semi for the better part of an hour as he curled his tongue around the candy, shooting him self-satisfied looks whenever he shifted in his seat.

“Who, me?” Elio asks, and if Oliver didn’t know better, he’d sound like innocence personified.

“Yes, you.” His nostrils flare at the artificial scent of peaches in the air between them. “And in front of your parents, no less.”

“Diabolique.”

“You little libertine.” Releasing Elio’s waist, Oliver circles his naval with a thumb before plucking at the loose waistband of his shorts. “Your mother’s not as blind as you might think,” he warns, and the little shit just shoots him a smirk.

“If only I’d warned you how little I know about the things that really matter.” Elio tips his chin up, chasing another kiss, but Oliver denies him as he moves his fingers downwards, almost, but not quite, touching the thin barrier that keeps him from his prize. “Non è giusto! You tease.”

“Takes one to know one,” Oliver says, dropping to his knees in the shadows of the bushes to skim his nose over the tented material, earning a quickly muffled groan.

He really shouldn’t be doing this, but Elio’s hard for him already, the thin cotton damp with his excitement, and there’s only so much a man can take.

“Toccami, per favore.” 

Oliver peers up, and the eyes staring back at him are blown wide. Black as the night that shrouds them. His whole body is singing, every nerve-ending alight. It’s a battle to keep his composure when Elio whimpers, dropping a hand to graze his index finger over Oliver’s bottom lip, and the longing contained within is what finally breaks him. 

“Touch you?” Oliver says, swiping his tongue over the digit that plays him with the same precision as any instrument. “I can’t stop touching you, you little siren.”

In the blink of an eye he tugs Elio’s shorts down to his knees, allowing gravity to do the rest as he leans in to nuzzle at the sweat-damp hair of his crotch. The musk of his arousal damn near floors him, and banding an arm around Elio’s waist he draws him nearer, dropping an almost chaste kiss to the beading tip of his erection.

“You say that like it’s a bad thing,” Elio mumbles, grabbing at Oliver’s hair. “Do you hear me complaining?”

“Me? No,” Oliver replies, lapping at the sensitive head. “But someone will hear something if we’re not careful.” Pulling back, he drags his fingernails over the valley between hip bone and groin. “Think you can be quiet?”

Elio’s gaze darts in the direction of the unseen garden table, as if only now remembering where they are. “I don’t know.” 

“Try.” 

“Lo farò.” Elio nods frantically, then bites the inside of his cheek as Oliver takes him into his mouth. They’ve only tried this a few times, and Oliver has to suppress a sound of his own when Elio bucks forward, hitting the back of his throat. “Scusa! Sorry!” 

But Oliver isn’t complaining in the slightest. He thought he knew himself, yet with Elio by his side he’s discovering something revolutionary every day. He experiments, endlessly fascinated by the fullness, the stretch, the way his jaw starts to ache as he concentrates on keeping it wet and tight. He sucks in a lungful of air as he glances up, and Elio’s chest is heaving. He’s close, he can tell, so Oliver braces a palm over his abdomen when he feels him start to buckle.

“Easy,” he whispers, adjusting himself in his slacks, then gently fondles Elio’s balls as he bobs his head once again, taking in more and more with each return. 

Oliver wraps his hand around the base, and Elio hums in satisfaction when his lips eventually meet his knuckles. Swirling his tongue, he moves them both in tandem, adding a careful scrape of teeth as his fingers dart behind Elio’s sack, seeking his entrance. He’s still loose from their afternoon siesta, and it’s the work of a moment to slip two inside, a third joining them when Elio twitches against his tongue.

A drumbeat of nervous excitement thunders inside his head, and with a hasty warning Elio seems to swell even further in the split second before Oliver’s taste buds are flooded with flavour. He swallows quickly, keeping his movements steady to prolong Elio’s enjoyment, and it’s only the sound of distant conversation that stops him from crowing in triumph.

“Delicious,” he says, kneeling back with a wink, and Elio blinks down at him, an unreadable expression on his face.

“Prove it.” 

“Prove it?”

Elio doesn’t bother to explain, just urges him to his feet and hauls him into a determined kiss, chasing the taste of himself from Oliver’s mouth. Helpless, he answers back in kind, grasping a fistful of curls to angle Elio’s head, then grunting in surprise when an ankle hooks behind his knee, jerking him forward. His hardness is cradled at the apex of Elio’s thighs when he reaches down between them, and the sound of his zipper is too loud even over their panting breaths. 

“I want you.”

“You have me.”

“Inside,” Elio demands, easing him free of his underwear, and Oliver shudders as he strokes him in one smooth motion.

“We shouldn’t. Not here.” 

It’s a token protest at best, but Elio shakes his head in negation. “Yes, here,” he insists, nuzzling into his shoulder. “We’ve already wasted so much time.”

There’s something viciously honest in his tone, and Oliver frowns as the words penetrate the fog of his libido. “Not wasted,” he says, brushing a kiss to Elio’s cheek in reassurance. “We needed that time to figure out what we wanted.”

“I did,” Elio tells him defiantly. “I do.” Brows knit, he hops into the air, and Oliver catches him without thinking. “I know what I want, Americano. The question is, do you?”

“Elio...” He can hear voices further down the path, but even that isn’t enough to deter him as he positions his cock at his spit-slick rim. “Are you sure?” he asks, and when Elio squirms impatiently Oliver can only hope his t-shirt will offer enough protection as he sheathes himself inside him, causing his back to scrape against the wall.

There’s a groan against his throat, gentle suction over his Adam’s apple, and Oliver drops his forehead to Elio’s collarbone as he holds him in place, not thrusting, just rocking deeply.

How can he sound so certain when the future is anything but? Tomorrow is an abstract concept when all they have is here and now, yet here and now Oliver has never been happier, and he can’t bear for it to end. Maybe it’s because he’s beyond the scope of his family’s expectations, but he hasn’t felt this free in years. Yes, the sword of Damocles is poised above their heads, but Elio is in his arms, welcoming him into his body, holding him, kissing him, making his heart dance to a tune of his own, so maybe the reason is irrelevant. 

Maybe tomorrow can go fuck itself. 

“Oliver, please…” 

He can’t get close enough, and the muted whines in Oliver’s ear spur him into action, pistoning in and out as Elio’s flagging erection perks up in interest. He won’t last, but he’s determined to bring Elio off twice, and cradling his ass with one palm he uses the other to jerk him steadily, straddling the thin line between pleasure and overstimulation.

It’s both thrilling and terrifying, but filthy promises spur him onwards, and just as Oliver’s balls contract his fist is coated with Elio’s second release. Wildfire surges through his veins as he pushes in one last time, the rhythmic clenching around his cock causing him to see stars when he sinks to his knees, taking Elio with him.

Plato had the right of it, he decides, clutching him tight enough that not even Zeus could split them apart. Four arms, four legs, a head with dual faces? 

They are one.

Two halves of a whole. 

He loves him - even if he’s not yet brave enough to speak it - and as Oliver whispers his own name against Elio’s temple he defies the universe itself to even try and separate them again. 

[pretty-face-breaker]

A Bath

c.w. dubcon touching (nonsexual but creepy), creepy whumper, partial nudity, whumpee being given a bath, painkillers used, hurting a wound, abusive relationship

after this

—

“You want to what?” 

Having brought a glass and pill with him, Nick set it down onto the nightstand with an imposing thump, letting the wood shake under the force. Then, he slid both forwards with a smile, caring to be gentle with the powdered pill. “I’ll give you a bath.” He laughed deep, in a way he had rarely done before. “You look like you need it.” 

“I look fine,” Hayko said, reaching forwards. 

Moreso, he wished he could lie as convincingly to himself now as he did in court. Fine maybe wasn’t the choice adjective. His curls, typically neat and gentle were matted to his scalp as he threw back the pill and downed it within the second. Back to back days in bed with dull pain pulsing from the hole in his midriff were even worse for his skin. His whole body crawled with exertion. 

Hayko sighed in relief that the meds were done with. 

“I-I’ll get up today and clean myself up,” he mumbled, easing down into his pillow fort and the only position that didn’t nauseate him with discomfort. Can’t get up, can’t sleep, what the fuck good is this if I’m focussed on the pain every second-  He breathed in sharply as the mattress dipped, Nick’s hand finding his shoulder and turning him. 

“See, funny you’ve been saying that for two days now.” 

Hayko inadvertently tightened his arms around the pillow closest to him. He wouldn’t be strong enough to throw his arms up in defense if Nick were to drag him out of bed and throw him headfirst into the bathroom. Not entirely dismissing the thought, he suppressed a shudder.

“And personally,” Nick added with a dangerous smile, “I’m getting tired of you hiding away.” 

Hayko laughed through his mild terror. “Listen, I got shot.” 

“For which I’m very sorry,” he crooned, lifting the corner of Hayko’s shirt and tracing his fingers down his slim side until he reached the white cotton patch. Beneath, the slightest hint of redness shone through his warm, sandy skin. As Nick idly played with the securing tape, it struck Hayko just how easily he could tear it off of him. 

“I mean, look at you. It’s a wonder you’ve been able to sleep like this.” 

I haven’t but thanks. Hayko fished for the edge of the shirt and covered his waist with nervous tugs down. “I don’t-... want you to. I-I can clean up today. It’s been getting easier to stand anyway so I’ll get around to it.” 

Nick shifted the shirt back up again, pushing his hand back. “Easier but not enough for you to stand now? Come on now, love, don’t prolong your suffering in grime.”

Had he more energy, Hayko would have huffed an offended laugh but now more than ever, he wanted to just crawl back to the heap of pillows that had been his only real comfort for the past week besides the pain pills and as much as he hated to admit, Nick’s silent but near-constant presence. 

His face said that the insistence wouldn’t stop until he got what he wanted.

Hayko eventually pushed himself to sitting when his nerves reached their peak in realization that he hadn’t left yet. He dared to glance up to Nick, who was playing with the rim of the glass as he steadily stared back. Particularly, at his hair. 

“Okay,” Hayko breathed at last. Didn’t have to look much longer than the grin lasted for his face to darken, self-conscious of his defeat. “Now?” 

Nick didn’t laugh but there was arrogance behind the “Obviously” he gave. When he got up and stretched, he seemed to be taking his time until Hayko wrenched himself up and recovered from the painful blow of darkness to his vision. He hissed and teetered, “Fuck.” 

As the room cleared up again, the bathroom lights were on and the rush of water was going. Hayko then realized that he hadn’t agreed to a hair-wash but a bath. Though his thoughts swam with the effects of the pill, he steadied himself and limped after Nick with his hand tapping and brushing against the wall. 

Support. An outlet for tension. No difference. 

Nick turned from fixing the bath to him in the doorway. He flashed him an encouraging smile. “Go ahead then.” 

Hayko reached for his shirt with a trembling hand and pulled it over his head with a wince when he stretched an inch too far. Dropping it, then went for the rest of his clothing and undressed clinically, an already humiliated mind wandering elsewhere until it was done. Nearly, because it didn’t matter whether Nick threatened him with another gunshot wound - he wasn’t taking off his underwear. 

He seemed satisfied enough though and turned the tap off with an approving nod. “Can you walk?” 

“Walked here, didn’t I?” Hayko mumbled as he quickly slipped into the tub and nestled down, back facing Nick. The warmth of the water was almost overwhelming as it sank into him and his muscles, gently hugging the scars across his back. The light burning from the water could be ignored as it faded with the rest of the world. It blissfully unwound him within moments. He didn’t notice the sigh he let slip until a chuckle came from behind. 

Nick seemed to have noticed his bliss and so waited a while longer until he had fully relaxed into the water. His hand then snaked to Hayko’s hair, pulling him back and pushing him down. “Down you go.” 

The water rose, and with it, a stab of panic as he fished for the edge of the tub and tried to push himself up against the grip before his head could be submerged. “Wait, wait-” he said, voice breaking all of a sudden. The terror of what was about to happen close to paralyzed him before he noticed that Nick wasn’t pushing him anymore. 

“Relax,” Nick said with a light laugh before he ruffled his hair. “Needa get your hair wet.” 

Hayko breathed out, pretending he hadn’t been ready to plead for him not to drown him. He slowly dunked his head underwater and threaded his fingers through the tangled curls, trying to pry them far enough apart for Nick to work with them. Given that he knew how to handle what he now realized was a disaster.

Nick took on the task regardless. Squeezing some product into his palm, he began shampooing his curls, massaging his scalp rough enough to force through the week-long mess until it became slick enough to card his fingers through. He worked from the base of his scalp through the remainder of the curls. “You have such beautiful hair,” he murmured. 

“Hmm,” Hayko responded, sounding sleepy. His eyelashes fluttered in dimly-registered pleasure at the hands kneading his scalp, the lavender fragrance of shampoo, and buzz of the warm water, reassuring his senses. He hadn’t relaxed like this in what felt like ages. It had likely been months since he had taken time like this for himself and though this wasn’t exactly by himself, it could work. 

“Enjoying yourself?” Nick wound a curl around his pinky and pulled back, teasing but not enough to hurt. He scratched behind his ear, scrubbing at the base of his hair. “Me too, love. Should let me do this more often.”

Hayko’s head lolled and he breathed deep, sloshing around the water. “S’long as you’re always nice like this.”  

Another chuckle and after some time, he pushed Hayko’s head underwater again. This time there was no struggle and he could tell his boy was holding his breath patiently, letting him wash out the shampoo to leave gentle, thinner curls that swept and rolled over his shoulders when he came up for air. 

Hayko took scattered strands in his palm and looked over the brown shimmer that had reappeared, allowing himself a soft smile. His scalp felt clean and the awful sensation of matting hair had seeped out of him, as well as other tensions that had been building for the past fews weeks. He had almost forgotten about the wound that was tormenting him.

Until he felt nails plucking at the bandage again. 

Nick nestled his chin in the crook of Hayko’s neck, appearing absentminded as he scratched away the tape, peeling the corner from his skin slowly, slowly. He inched it up until he reached the bandage and then that, too, began to lift excruciatingly slowly and the water barely shifted as he did. Hayko hadn’t recalled ever letting his hand snake that low. 

“As much as I would… prefer you around the house than in your bed, I have to admit that you did look nice, writhing in your own blood.” He turned his nose to breathe in the newly settled fragrance in his hair. “I mean, how much pain were you in? Haven’t seen you gasping like that since-” 

“A l-lot,” Hayko responded after thinking back to it. It hurt to but after the shock had worn off, he could hardly remember anything anybody said to him with the sharpness of the agony, terror of death. The knowledge that he could have died that night. “I was in a lot of pain. What do you think?” 

Nick buried his face in the hair, uncaring if his shirt got wet. “Hm, suppose that’s a bit vague. Give me details.” His finger suddenly bit into the wound and Hayko started in shock. 

“Stop it.” His hand shot to Nick’s, clear-headed and desperate to stop the pain. He hissed as he dug his nail further into the inflamed edges. “Stop, please,” he tried in a softer register. “I can’t remember, hon-... honestly.” He felt the smile broadening into his shoulder and a lazy hum sound against him. 

“It would be best if you remembered, then,” Nick muttered but yielded and slipped the bandage back. 

Only teasing.

He pulled his hand out of the water but it snaked up his navel first. Always seemed to find a way to make even these moments a source of terror, Hayko thought as he took stock of the pain, newly focussed just as he’d forgotten it. 

Though it should have been expected by now. His sadism was neither new nor ceasing, as long as Hayko would be here. Even in the middle of a bath. As Nick drained the tub, the hug of the water’s warmth leaving him to breath in the steam and straighten up, humiliation resurfaced. To be touched, undressed and looked at, to be cleaned and all of this willingly. 

A towel draped over his back. A hand ruffled his hair again. “So good for me, baby.”  

He was grateful to be clean again. Though as he got out of the tub, it wasn’t the pain this time that made him want to crawl back into bed and plunge into a forgetting sleep. 

Maybe he could slip deeper into it with the tension gone. 

-

Tagging @doveotions @heathenville @thewhumpstuff @thatsthewhump @adamantem-rose @lonesome--hunter @whumpsorbetism @whumpasaurus101 @lektricfergus @downrivergirl914 @burtlederp