#but there is a whole ecosystem of readers

[kaelily]

offering to brush jing yuan's hair and him just chuckling and getting all soft while leaning his head back so you can have easier access. he'll sigh sofly when he feels your hands run through his strands and separate them into sections so it'll make the job easier. you gently push the comb through his strands so that it won't accidentally pull on any knots present there and he practically melts in your hold when you start offering little scratches on his scalp.

and then a bird flies out of his hair and hits you directly in the face 🥰

[unconventional-lawnchair]

Casual

Sirius Black x Slytherin!Reader

In My Room Chance Pena

Masterlist

Summary: Sirius falls for his most recent hook up, and she refuses to cave to what she wants}

Wc- 6697

Cw: Not proof read- Use of {Y/N}, sexual themes and scenes(literally opens with smut), cussing, Sirius is kinda a butt and broken hearted, Marlene my beloved, Jily my beloved}

Taglist- @otterlockholmes

If someone asked your peers what was one thing about you that they would say described you best, it was that you liked control.

The fear of the unknown, or better, uncertainty wasn't something you necessarily found charming. Things needed to be handled in an exact science, nothing spontaneous, no surprises.

Not that you weren't into a little fun, but even that came down to a basic formula to you. From parties, to schoolwork, to free time, and of course, to relationships. You would certainly be a RavenClaw if you weren't so ambitious.

That's why, when it first came out that you and Sirius were ‘talking,’ everyone was baffled. In hindsight, it made sense. He was a play boy who never really settled down, and you were a player yourself. Commitment meant opening your schedule to influences outside of your control. A whole other human’s thoughts and feelings, that just didn't fit into your mindset.

That meant a whole new set of rules you weren't ready to create. A whole new ecosystem to tend to. Of course, that also meant foolish things like jealousy, possession, passion. You'd rather stay as far away from that as possible.

 So hooking up with Sirius was easy. It was a quick fix to clear your mind and just have a break. You had been seeing each other for months. It started over the summer when James invited you and Lily to the Potters’. You both were left unsupervised for an hour, and what were two wound up teens to do? 

This symbiotic relationship followed you into year seven. You and Sirius hardly truly talked before then, but now, talk was truly on the back burner. You'd both find your release in each other and you'd leave. Simple as that. He would have someone to release any tension without having to work for it and you had your own relief without commitment. It was perfect.

Until it wasn't.

See, last week you broke your own rule. You usually never stayed over at Sirius’s dorm. You both agreed it was too intimate, but you were both exhausted, and you figured staying with him once wasn't a horrible idea. He did not complain. 

Since that night, he had been acting strange. Stranger than usual, that was. He would avoid you outside of your rendezvous, suddenly too busy with Quidditch practice, without James, and personal study. You ignored it, you were never close to Sirius before so you didn't think too much about him not spending time with you. 

Then came tonight. You ran your hands on his bare chest, nails raking down his flawless skin towards his abdomen. His head was thrown back in a loud groan, the music from downstairs keeping it from being anyone's but yours. Your hips rutted cruelly against his pelvis, slow and daunting. You had been at it for an hour now, your bodies were hot, sweat slipped from your forehead as you threw your head back when you managed to roll right into a sweet tender spot. 

The sound you let out was ungodly, and Sirius was losing it. Fighting against his tie you used to restrain his wrists. Even in his predicament, he refused to give in. When you faltered, growing closer to coming undone, he cursed and began to thrust up. The slapping of skin was loud and horrific, and paired with his groans and soft moans, your unholy exhales and blubbering nonsense you managed to slip out your lips, it sounded more like a porno scene than a dorm room.

Your legs began to shake, you pulled your nails from his freshly pink skin and ran your fingers up his cheeks and into his hair. You closed your eyes and bit your lip, meeting his thrusts in an animalistic way. His eyes were transfixed on you. How your body was glowing in the moonlight from the window, with a thick sheen of sweat and indented skin where he bit you too hard. You looked like a masterpiece to him, something he never wanted to give up.

“I love you.”

The words slipped through his lips before he could stop it. You both reached your hazy highs. You gave a croak of a moan and fell limp against his form. He was panting and huffing as his cum coated your insides. It felt so perfect. It was perfect for him.

Then, you were untying his wrists, carefully climbing off of him too soon, and the euphoria cleared, and he knew what he had done. He watched as you got up, grabbing his towel and patting yourself dry. Tossing it onto his lap without another word.

He sat up on his elbows and watched as you got ready, putting on the thin black dress that started all of this. 

“You're not staying?”

You wanted to ignore him. You wanted to snap and shout at him. If there was anyone you knew who could have kept this just a hookup, it was Sirius Black. And he betrayed your trust. And that made it so much harder.

“No.”

Sirius gave a dry laugh and fell back against his bed sheets. Running his fingers through his hair as he looked up at the ceiling. Merlin, this felt too damn familiar. 

“Is it too late to pretend that didn't happen?”

You gave your own sarcastic laugh, grabbing your wand and shoes. You looked back at him, his eyes were wide and glossy, already rimming red. You were unsure if it was from the salt of his skin invading his eyes, or if he was about to cry, but you were weak to his looks. All of them.

You sighed and sat on the edge of the bed, fiddling with your heel straps.

“When?”

“What?”

“When did this become more to you?”

You could practically hear him flinch. To you. There was nothing to you. This meant nothing more than sex to you, you made that clear, but hearing it made Sirius ache.

“It always was.”

“What?”

“I’ve loved you. Since year five.”

You covered your face and groaned. You wanted to be sympathetic, but you were mad. He had been using you, this whole time, for some fantasy in his head, in a world where you were his. It made your stomach turn with guilt. How dare he make you feel guilty for this. He sat up and rubbed the back of his neck, just waiting for the other shoe to drop.

“We're done.”

“Wait-”

“Goodnight, Sirius.”

He tried to reach for you but you had already slipped on your shoes. You walked out the door as Sirius stumbled after you. Putting on his boxers and trying to follow after, not even thinking of making himself not look like hot sex.

“Hey! See ya, {Y/N}!” James called from the doorway and Sirius met his eyes trying to leave. James looked down at Sirius bewildered, he was usually long since asleep after your time together, or at least smoking in bed. His friend looked so defeated. He felt it too. “Woah, you okay mate?”

“Fuck.” Sirius hissed and leaned his back against the wall and looked up at the ceiling. James sounds of concern falling on deaf ears. Why the fuck did he say that?

~~~

“You're staring again.” Remus muttered as he stabbed his eggs with his fork. Looking up to see James’s desperate look, begging Remus to take pity on the sad fool. Remus was officially a prefect, he didn't have to stay up at night listening to Sirius’s woes about you.

 “Not creepy at all, by the way. Just…” He sighed and shook his head. “Sorry, I can't lie to him. She won't even come and eat with us anymore, which also means he's banished Lily to the other side of the table too. We're lucky she even comes to our common room to hang with us.”

James rubbed his temple and Sirius scoffed, looking at Remus’s firm expression. “I've banished her? I have? Bloody hell, I caught feelings for one girl and it's my fault she ran with her tail between her legs?” It was two weeks! Two weeks and she refused to talk to him outside of pleasantries.

“Watch it, Pads. You were the one who went too far. Who confesses while they're balls deep in someone?” Remus snapped back and Peter gave a squeak of distress, coughing out a few eggs. 

“Wait, what happened?” Peter whined out.

“Sirius confessed to {Y/N}. Not to mention he’s been skipping practice. Slytherin almost beat us!” James muttered and Peter looked like they said he hexed Dumbledore himself.

Remus scoffed at James' concerns.

Another thing about your reputation, everyone knew. Everyone knew you refused to entertain commitment, but Peter was also startled by Sirius’s confession.

“You confessed?” Peter questioned with an open slack mouth.

“Yes, wormtail.” Sirius snapped back.

“Woah.” He mumbled and Remus sighed. 

“Let's get your mind off it, Pads, let's go smash bludgers at each other until we get told off by Pomfrey, ya?” James prodded and before Sirius could respond, he was interrupted.

“You will do no such thing. Your mother would look to me if you came back with a battered head, it's a big enough target as it is.” Lily spoke from behind him, wrapping her arms around James shoulders as he leaned back and their lips met. She broke the kiss and giggled at the love sick look on his face. “Yes ma'am.”

She rolled her eyes and pulled back slightly, looking at Sirius with a soft pitiful look and he sighed through his nose. “She told you?”

“Well.. we are best friends, she was bound to.” Lily offered cautiously as James leaned his head into her sleeve and began to nibble on her robe like a damned goat, trying to let out all his bundled up affection. Lily quickly pinched his ear to reprimand him. Making him huff with a whine.

Sirius rolled his eyes at the affectionate display and Lily attempted to move but James just wrapped her arms tighter around his neck, pulling her flush against his back. She rolled her eyes harder this time.

“On a scale from one to ten, how bad is it?” Sirius mumbled and Lily shook her head.

“Well, she feels betrayed, Sirius. She feels like you've been indulging in what isn't yours.” Sirius looked down at his food and poked around at it before he tossed his fork down. “I wasn't indulging. What we had was consensual-”

“But dishonest. And we warned you.” Lily quipped sharply and Sirius flinched a bit. Lily was always a mother-like figure, but she was especially defensive of you. 

“Sorry, I just..” Sirius his voice cracked as he rubbed the bridge of his nose and Lily sighed. 

“I know..” She whispered. “You did this to yourself, Sirius.”

“I know.” He whispered. He felt defeated. 

Lily leaned her head on James, curtaining his face with her long red hair, the brunette is in absolute heaven with his nose pressed to her neck.

“Sirius, just be careful, okay? She's made it clear she's not going to stop her.. life over this.”

Sirius' jaw clenched. He didn't even think about that. Someone else having you the same way he did. 

That was a new hell.

~~

When you were seeing Sirius, you both agreed to keep things exclusive, you both agreed that it would keep you both safe to not involve anyone else. Sirius was quickly learning that was a mistake. 

He couldn't find himself entertaining a girl without thinking of you, even casuals that he had seen before you just reminded him of the way you looked in his eyes as you commanded his soul to bend to you. Their touch reminded him of your sharp nails wracking down his back as he held himself above the one woman who could truly ever break him.

Weeks without you was torture. He missed the intimacy, of course, but also you. He meant it when he said he fell for you years ago. Sirius was much in the same boat as Remus, he didn't think he deserved the more sweet love in life. 

You weren't gentle, you were genuine and to the point. Blunt, no filter  and rather brash. It was no wonder the girls seemed to love you. Lily was stern and more parental, Marlene was a party animal but a helpless romantic, Dorcas was hard to read but she had the same blunt air about her, and Mary was more of an observer. You tied them together like a bow. Lily's more rash side, Marlene's more rational side, Dorcas’s honest side and Mary's voice. 

It also meant you were all these things to the boys when you met them. Remus and you were naturally drawn to each other, both enjoying the more quiet things. It helped you had prefect rounds together. James and you fit a lot like you'd expect, a much more stern voice of reason to his utter stupidity. Peter even bonded with you, in small comments in passing and clever one liners between you two.

Sirius, however, had to admit he thought you were nothing more than pretty. When Lily introduced you to the group, you fit in far too easily, not to mention you were a Slytherin. Though, your more no bullshit and cut throat attitude quickly turned his indifference to infatuation. It helped that you didn't even spare him the time of day in most cases.

His ideal type. 

The attraction was purely sexual. It was supposed to be casual. The shared flirts, the snarky comments, the deathly teasing, only to be followed by your endless heart. When you sat with him after a bad Quidditch accident, when you sat him down and forced him to study for potions because he was failing and just didn't care. You were always there to help him out of the stupid shit he got himself into.

Yet, over the two years you'd known him, that was the most that happened between the two of you. You could hardly call each other friends, because you did that for everyone. He felt like he was nothing to you, just someone to nag and dote on. Your words always meant the world to him, and you picked them carefully, but they were never just his.

Until you were in bed together. He couldn't just let that go.

Now he had to manage to keep himself calm when you were around, because your friends were his and his were yours. He would never make them choose, and honestly, he was selfish. He wanted to be around you in any way he could. 

He regrets that now.

Lily and Marlene had brought down an empty glass from their dorm room from Merlin knows what, insisting everyone gather around for a game of truth or dare. 

Eventually, everyone was situated around the bottle. James was on the couch, Lily practically on his lap. Remus was on the other side, leaning back and already drinking whatever Peter had brought from their dorm room. Marlene was dancing around the room to a random AC / DC record, with her school skirt hiked up to show off her thighs, and a rich red crop top, just her tie hanging loose around her neck. She was singing a bit off key, but in a charming way. 

Sirius would usually find that to be the most captivating part of the night, but every time he even glanced at her he could only think of how you would only ever dance when he coaxed you off the couch. How you'd act so terribly annoyed, before melting into his arms and laughing along with his terrible dance moves. You both would make absolute fools of yourself. It was his favorite part of the night.

Peter got up from his spot across from Sirius as someone knocked. He hurried over to the portrait and opened it, and in came Mary, Dorcus, and you.

Sirius felt his breath hitch and he looked away. James seemed to notice this, but before he could say anything to save the poor boy, Marlene gave a delighted squeal and ran up to you and Dorcas, arms around both of your shoulders. You glanced at her and both you and Meadowes shared a small hidden smile. 

“Let's get this started!” Marlene shouted, you winced away at the volume right against your ear. Dorcas just looked taken. You playfully pinched her cheek and she giggled, hurrying over to sit right next to Sirius. You thinned your lips at the sight, you didn't expect them to try and rekindle whatever they had before, but if they did you.. you could be happy for them, you think. That bubbling in your throat was just left over betrayal.

Sirius, however, had his eyes narrowed on you. You ignored it, turning to start and idle conversation with Dorcas who seemed just as unsettled about the position. You put your hand on her back and rubbed it a bit as you looked at Mary who sat on your other side. She shared a sympathetic look with both of you and you bit your cheek. What was that for?

“Who's first?” Remus spoke up to break the tension, and Lily raised her hand. “Oh! Oh! Me!” She quickly spun the bottle and it twirled around to land on Peter. 

The game was going steady like that, shots taken for people who refused to do their dares, pretty outlandish and good natured. Eventually, this had devolved into a modest level of chaos, until Marlene spun the bottle. She was clearly a bit tipsy, and her filter had long been dissolved.

You were still trying to keep up the sportsmanship of the game, but when Marlene asked you truth or dare there was no way in hell you'd say dare, terrified she'd ask you to streak or scream bloody murder in the middle of the courtyard. Two dares she's done before.

“Truth.” You mused with a smile and tilted your head. 

“Is it true you have a new boytoy already~?” Marlene purred and leaned forward with her chin in her palm. Your face filled with dread instantly. Really? Already? She made it sound like it was some horrible offense. You were sure Sirius had found someone else too, you were never anything more than what happened between the sheets.

Your eyes flicked to Sirius, and he looked stunned. He wasn't even breathing, and you felt a sharp pain in your chest. Feeling the need to justify yourself. 

“W-well, it's nothing. But yes, I guess?” You muttered out and Sirius leaned his head back and you winced. What else should you have said? Should you have lied for his sake? Did it matter? Again, you and Sirius were hardly friends.

Lily watched the interaction with wide eyes, watching as you stammered in uncertainty. Waving your hand around in aspiration. Her eyes widened and she hit James best before he could interrupt, gesturing to you. His eyes widened as even James -can't take a hint- Potter caught on to what was happening. No…

Marlene gave a gasp and leaned forward. “Woah, no wasted time, huh, {Y/N}.”

“Is it that big of a deal?” Mary offered in a quiet voice, trying to cut in. Marlene finally seemed to take the hint, and quickly stammered out and back tracked. 

“N-no, of course not, just curious.” She muttered on about and tried to quickly encourage you to spin the bottle, but your eyes were locked into place by Sirius’s. 

“So uhm,” Sirius cleared his throat and looked away. “Who is it?”

“Does it matter?” You whispered back. It was like you two were in your own private world. Mary put her hand on your shoulder and Dorcas slipped her hand around your lower back. Both trying to comfort you threw the confrontation. It was like everyone could see what you felt before you even knew it. 

“It does to me.” He muttered in a low voice and you looked away, slowly hugging your knees and biting your cheek.

“... Barty Crouch.” You mumbled and he gave a bitter laugh, making you close your eyes.

“Really?” He practically shouted and you quickly pushed the girls off and began to stand up. “My brother’s best friend?” He gave a bitter laugh as he watched you gather your things.

“Thank you guys for tonight.” You smiled at the group, quickly trying to defuse the situation, Remus waved his hand and stood up, ready to walk you back.

“Yeah, go ahead. Walk away, again.” Sirius raised his voice and you flat out ignored him, shaking your head and walking to the door. “There she goes folks!” He shouted across the room and you simply sent him an interesting gesture over your shoulder. He scoffed.

The second the portrait closed he kicked the bottle across the room and stomped off to the stairs. “Good fucking riddance.”

He prayed it was missed, but the watery tone in the base of his throat was so painfully obvious.

~~~

You two didn't talk for another few weeks, you stayed away from the Gryffindor common room for dear life. Particularly after James pulled you aside and asked you to avoid Sirius, as his performance in Quidditch was suffering. Lily gave him a firm talking to after that. At first you scoffed it off, but ultimately you listened.

Things were dulling down, you went back to what you could control and the girls didn't entirely mind meeting in the prefect rooms. You were sitting in the mirror, combing your hair in the same black dress, ready to meet Barty up in the Ravenclaw common rooms to celebrate their win against Gryffindor. 

“Are you sure you won’t be coming?” You hummed and looked over at Lily who gave a nod.

“Sorry, I’m sure Barty will look after you. I have to comfort a moping giant, I’ll be busy all night.” Lily exaggerated, making you smirk and Dorcas clear her throat.

“All night, huh?” She mused and Lily bit her bottom lip.

“Sometimes losing a game or two has its perks.” She cheeked and Mary gave a dramatic gasp. “Lily Josephine Evans!”

You gave her a scandalized look up and down. “Really now?”

“I have told you before, I can take punishment.” She pushed and Mary threw a pillow at her, making you laugh in absolute delight. You shook your head fondly, unable to stop the bright goofy smile on your face. 

“You are awful.” You mumbled and put on a pair of earrings, wincing as you immediately were reminded of how much Sirius liked them. Quickly taking them out and standing up.

“Are either of you coming?” You asked Mary and Dorcas and Mary shook her head. “Sorry, me and Remus are going to study in the library.” She mused and before Dorcas could make another innuendo you sent her a look. 

The stoic girl giggled like a mischievous first year. “No, I’m sorry. I have actual innocent things to do.” 

You rolled your eyes before you waved them off. “I will see you three another time.”

“Talk to him!” Lily called before the other two muttered out their goodbyes between packing their things.

“Not a chance, Evans!” You shouted over your shoulder. You didn't owe Sirius a damn thing. Certainly not the time of day after the stunt he pulled.

~~~

Sirius was a mess. He had been unable to focus on anything but you for the past two miserable months. He wanted to apologize. He wanted to talk to you, he wanted to see you. You avoided him like the plague, and he didn't know if he was grateful or pissed about it.

He knew only one way to get rid of this aching irritation.

That's how he found himself in a small broom closet with Marleen, his lips were all over hers, his hands on her hips gripping hard at her exposed skin. Marlene was so different from you, but it wasn't hard. To close his eyes and imagine it was your fingers running threw his hair, your lips against his own.

When he moved to her neck, he felt your skin. He heard your voice saying his name so sweetly. “Fuck.. that's my girl.” He whispered against her skin and relished in the slight shiver she let rock her body. “I've got you, {Y/N}. I'm right here.” He breathed heavily.

There was a moment where both of them froze. There was a sharp stinging pain that ran across his jaw as Marlene, appropriately, slapped him. He groaned and stepped back, Marlene slamming the door open to storm out.

Bloody hell.

~~~

You made your way down the empty corridors, looking outside at the moonlit school grounds. It was quiet, just before curfew, not that you were too worried. You had wrapped yourself up in your school cloak and prayed Flinch cared as little as he seemed to about the proper patrols.

There was a loud crackling slap that rang through the silent hall, soon after, a door slammed open a few yards down from you. Your eyes snapped up to watch Marlene rush out of the room. Your eyes widened when you looked at eachother and she looked like a deer in headlights. 

You opened your mouth to say something before Sirius stumbled out behind her, muttering a mouthful of apologies.

It didn't take a rocket scientist to figure out what had happened. Frazzled hair, kids bruised lips, Marlene's neck and Sirius’s… red cheek? You quickly looked away from the two and Marlene looked back at Sirius. He was staring at you with wide eyes.

She huffed and began to stomp away, leaving the two of you in an awkward silence. 

“... hey.” He whispered and that snapped you out of it.

You began to walk down the hall, and he quickly ran in front of you, his hands up in front of you to try and settle you. You scoffed and looked behind you before sharply up at him. “Hey- hey, {Y/N}, it's not what you think.” He tried to defend himself. From what exactly? You had no clue.

“What? It's kind of hard to hide it.” You scoffed and gestured to his  unbuckled pants. He sighed and began to fix them, your eyes looking away from him. Arms crossed as you waited for him to speak his peace. Sirius shoving his shirt into his pants to straighten himself up.

There was a long silence before Sirius spoke up again. Your eyes drifting back to him. He was a mess, he looked so apologetic. Your heart almost broke, it ached for you to just drag him back to the dorm and forget everything that happened the past few months. You blinked away the thought. No. This is exactly why you avoid relationships. You hated this hurt.

“Uhm..” He cleared his throat. “Where are you heading?”

“What?” You whispered, a bit caught off guard. 

“It's not your night for rounds.” He mumbled. “I just figured, you know-”

“How do you…” Right. He would know your night schedule wouldn't he? “Ah..”

Your eyes drifted past him before you gestured to the stairs. “Well. RavenClaw is celebrating their win. Barty asked me to come.” You remarked calmly and he gave a low scoff. You took a deep breath as you prepared yourself for his next out lash. 

“You just. Never went with me to the parties at Gryffindor tower is all.” 

You rolled your eyes. “That's because I knew you'd be there, Sirius. You always had me those nights, didn't you?”

He stared at you and slowly nodded. “Yeah. I did.” He muttered and bit his cheek. You wanted to kiss his pout away and- Merlin what was getting into you?

“Well, if you don't mind..” You mumbled and walked past him, He quickly called out again.

“Will you uhm.. Will you be at the next game?” He called across the hall and you looked him in his eyes. He was pleading, you had never seen him so.. sad. Bruised cheek and all.

“... do you want me to, Sirius?”

“More than anything.”

You sighed through your nose. “Yes, I'll be there.”

He shook his head, slowly a shy and hesitant smile grew on his lips. “Nice.. nice.. yeah, I'll see you there.”

He stood there and stared at you for a moment. You felt like you lost the ability to breathe.

“Sirius?” You whispered and he looked you in the eyes with this sad bit of hope you knew you’d crush.

“Yeah?”

“Is that all?”

“O-oh, yeah. Yeah, I'll see you there, {Y/N}.” He mumbled and you slowly nodded. He turned and walked back to the tower.

“Yeah. See you.” You whispered to an empty corridor. You stood there for a solid minute. Debating if you should run after him or not. You wanted to. You wanted to but you knew you shouldn't.

~~~ 

The image of Sirius and Marlene leaving the storage room together was burned into your head. You had been avoiding him, he had a right to do anything he wanted with anyone he wanted, you had called it off.

Even so, with Barty at your neck kissing it sore and your fingers in his hair, you couldn't stop thinking about it. You went through the motions, just dismissing your own thoughts and letting Barty’s hands reach for your bra strap. He paused and you didn't even notice, still staring off out of one of the several windows. The Ravenclaw tower was just encased in them from wall to wall, and with the darkness they just looked like mirrors.

“Are you alright?” Barty whispered in your ear and you nodded.

“Yeah, sorry, just distracted.” You mumbled and he shook his head, pulling away.

“What? What's wrong?” You whispered out and he bit his cheek.

“Come on, don't play dumb.” He chuckled and fell back on a random seat in the vacant room he dragged you in. 

“What?” You mumbled and he shrugged, slowly smirking.

“I may be younger, but I know that look. You have been a million miles away. I'm not gonna sleep with you while you're like that, pretty girl.”

You gave a weak and playful laugh, fixing your dress on your shoulder. “Isn't that what this is for, Crouch?”

“Ouch, Crouch?” he chuckled, standing up to pick up your discarded robe and walked behind you to wrap it around your shoulders. “I would normally agree with anything your pretty mouth uttered, but I am not Sirius. I'm not a good substitute, I can guarantee it.”

“What? Don't be crass.” You scoffed, startled with how easily he could see through you.

‘Twelve owls, I'm not an idiot.” He gave you a firm pat on your ass and pushed you on. “Go get that sad sack. I am going to go see if Evan’s is busy.”

You were stunned by the whole interaction. You bit your cheek before you turned and gave him a tight hug. He was startled by this, but slowly pulled you in. Turning you around and shoving you off.

“Okay, you're killing my buzz. Out.”

~~~

You weren't thinking. That was your excuse. When you stumbled out of the tower and walked right past the dungeons. You stopped at the fat lady, knocking on the painting and startling the her awake. She looked at you suspiciously and you gave her a nervous smile. “Just.. checking on some things.” You whispered and she seemed to buy it for the most part.

You snapped your head up as the door opened. Peter looked at you with wide eyes and you looked around him before slipping in. You walked into the common room before you turned to him. “Is James here?”

“No, just Sirius. I can-”

“No need.” You remarked quickly and turned, hurrying up the steps and leaving a baffled and confused Peter behind.

When you got to the door, you knocked quickly. You prayed no one else was there. 

The door opened with a hesitance, Sirius peaked out and his eyes grew the size of saucers. “{Y/N}-”

“Are you alone?” You breathed and he quickly nodded. You stepped in and closed the door behind you. Pressing your back to it. Sirius stared at you and you bit your bottom lip. There was a long silence. You didn't even think about what you planned to say when you got there. 

He reached out to grab his tie and yanked him close. His lips were on yours without much coaxing needed. He gave a sigh and forced his body against yours. The door behind you jerks at the force. You ran your fingers through his hair and he groaned against your lips.  “Sirius.” You whined as his hands grabbed your hips.

“I know, {Y/N}.” He whispered and you looked away, his lips falling to your neck. “I've got you.”

~~~

The next morning you woke up just an hour or so before Sirius to sneak back to your dorms. Once you got there, you passed Lily on her own walk of shame. You both looked at eachother but said nothing of the events from the night before. 

You both got ready for the day, and ended up meeting up early in the Quidditch stands. Still, no one said anything about it. “How long are these games?” You asked Lily with a shiver, covering yourself up with a jumper you had taken with you this morning. Not really thinking about having to explain why you had his clothes. Why you left the tower that morning. Really, anything,

You'd don't have to, however. Lily knew. She knew the moment you looked heartbroken at Sirius that night. She knew the separation wouldn't last.

“Could be hours. James has set records with being the quickest seeker, so could even be minutes.” Lily mused and you gave a scoff of a laugh. 

“That tells me nothing, you know that right?”

Lily simply smirked at you. “Like you? This morning? Why are you wearing Sirius’s jacket?” She cheeked and you gave a guilty weak smile.

“... yeah, makes sense Lily, I hope Slytherin wins.” You teased and she gave a playful scoff.

“It will take ages!”

Eventually the girls joined and you settled to watch the game.

You were finally able to witness it, what James meant when he said you had his ‘best beater’ distracted. Sirius seemed in another place the whole game. He was being pelted with the bludger, and not as quick with sending it back to their attackers. You were actually quite into the game and startled by every attack.

Sirius however, was just hovering. Trying to piece together what last night was. He didn't see you in the Slytherin stands, and he was wondering if it would be another three months before he heard your voice again. He snapped out of it just in time to send a bludger back that was aimed right to his face. He took a few steady breaths and bit his cheek.

That almost made you panic. You shot up straight as people began to boo him. You covered your face with a groan, the Slytherin stands chanting and cheering for him to continue to fumble. You didn't really think before you launched to your feet and grabbed the edge of the railing. 

“Sirius!!” You screamed over the railing and he snapped around to your voice. You both locked eyes and your breath hitched. You held his eyes for a minute before you bit your lip and leaned so far forward over the railing you might've fallen. “Just win this game already! It's bloody cold out here!”

That was all he needed. You, in his house stands. In his jumper. Cheering his name. He nearly passed out. And you turned to look behind him with wide eyes. He moved on instinct. Turning sharply to smack an incoming bludger at a distracted chaser. You cheered for him, this time Lily and Mary joined you in your rowdy cheers, as Lily pulled you back from the edge. 

You and the girls watched as James spotted the Snitch, in all honesty, it was the first time you paid attention to anyone else in the game. 

James and the other seeker were neck and neck, but Sirius took care of that easily, hitting the bludger at the back of Regulus’s broom and spinning him out of control and giving James the chance to secure the win.

Griffindor screamed out in victory, and Sirius landed. He ran right past James, Marlene, even Alice as they went to congratulate each other, running straight for the stands, passing Lily and only lending him a moment as she laughed. “She went to the school! Think she's sneaking off to her dorm.”

“Bloody hell she is! Not after that!” He shouted, already running off the pit and not even thinking of using his long discarded broom.

You had just managed to avoid the crowds and ran straight up the stairs. You didn't even think until you find yourself in the astronomy tower. You began to pace. You wanted him. You wanted him so bad. You wanted this so bad. The flash of Sirius coming to mind as the final horse crossed the finish line. You were in love with Sirius black. Oh Merlin, have mercy on your soul.

“{Y/N}! {Y/N}!” 

Speak of the damned devil. 

You turned from your perch on the railing, staring down at Sirius as he stood in the courtyard just below you. Like you were once again, watching him from the stands. 

“Sirius!” You shouted down without thinking. He looked up at you and it looked like a scene from a fairy tale. He was looking at you with this stupid smile on his face, a smile you just wanted to kiss so bad. 

“How did you get up there so quick!?” He shouted up at you, drawing a small crowd and you laughed. “Did you win!?”

Sirius couldn't even bring himself to be offended that you didn't stay for the end of the match. “We did!” He shouted up and you bit your lip, absolutely love struck with a bright smile. “I'm coming up!” He shouted and you closed your eyes tight, leaning forward over the edge again.

“Sirius Orion Black!” You shouted down and now a crowd was forming. But you could only see each other. He stared up at you with a quirked eyebrow. “Yeah?!”

“I-” You choked out a whisper before you shook your head. 

“Sirius Black I'm in love with you! I love your stupid face! Your pretty smile! Your dumb eyes!” You shouted and he took a few steps back with a shocked look. Quickly shoving his way past the crowd to make his way up the stairs to you. You had your eyes closed, you didn't even notice as he left. “I love your stupid dance moves! I love when you hold me! I love when you make those stupid jokes no one else gets but us! I love you, Merlin I fucking love you!” You screamed across the entire courtyard, breath heavy as you slowly opened your eyes and your heart dropped. Where did he-

Suddenly, there were a pair of arms around your abdomen that yanked you from the railing. You squealed and Sirius spun you around. Setting you down and laughing as you looked up at him. Your eyes met and he bit his lip. “{Y/N}?”

“Yeah?” You whispered in faux innocence. 

“I fucking love you too.”

He grabbed your cheeks and yanked you into a kiss. It was heavy and intense; your hands found his cheeks in return. You were both so wrapped up with each other, you didn't even notice a much closer audience before you heard Lily clear her throat. Sirius looked up and was greeted by Lily, Mary, Marlene, everyone. Even Peter who all seemed a bit winded. “Leave it to Sirius Black to get {Y/N} {L/N} to do something spontaneous.” Remus muttered and you didn't even seem to notice them. Yanking Sirius into another love filled kiss. Sirius had no qualms with this.

[moonstruckme]

Hey love, im back to plague you with another idea...

A situationship / budding relationship james x reader where shes the Black brothers sister, but every time one of them catchs the two of them alone they physically pick her up and just walk away with that menacing Black stare.

Tysm love x

Thanks for requesting sweetheart!

James Potter x Black!reader ♡ 911 words

“Do you really think this is the best place to hang out?” you ask James, eyeing the closet in his dorm as if you’re brother’s going to come popping out. 

“It’ll be fine,” he promises you in that optimistic, sure-footed way of his. 

From the way Regulus had talked about Sirius’ friends at Hogwarts, you’d expected James to be insufferable. Arrogant, entitled, the true embodiment of the mask your oldest brother puts on when he’s here at school. But you’d discovered when you’d arrived that Sirius’ goofy friend wasn’t the James Potter you were warned about. He was self-assured, certainly. Confident, but in the years you’ve known him it’s never seemed like anything more sinister than that. James doesn’t walk into every room like he owns it; he walks in like it’s home. He brings that everywhere with him—that feeling of home, of belonging. It seeps into you when you’re with him, and to your brother’s acute repugnance, you’re with him more and more these days. 

“Remus is off with Lily, and Sirius got pulled aside by coach after practice, so he’ll be on the pitch running drills for a good hour yet,” James goes on. He sits down on his bed, and you follow suit. “Plus, your dorm is occupied and this is the only other semi-private place I could think of.” His smile goes a bit sheepish as he shrugs, one-shouldered and boyish. 

You catch his meaning—the privacy carries implications neither of you are ready to act on—and you’ve got no reason to feel awkward about that but a nervous laugh fizzes up out of you anyway. “Yeah, I guess you’re right,” you admit. Though Sirius is far from unaware of this blossoming whatever between you and James, neither of you are keen on him finding out through the grapevine that you were seen canoodling in the hallways. Privacy is ideal. “So, I’m guessing practice went better for you than it did for him?” 

James shrugs again, the show of humility making you both grin. You can never seem to stop doing that around him. “Yeah,” he says, “practice for a seeker is pretty straightforward. Less strategy to it, so I guess I got off easy.” 

“You make it sound like Sirius isn’t just hitting things with a bat,” you deadpan, and he laughs. The sound feels like sunbeams shooting straight into your gut. 

“It’s a bit more complicated than that,” he hedges. “But hey, are you coming to the party after the match on Saturday?” 

“Is there still going to be a party if you lose?” 

James fixes you with a look. “We never lose, sweetheart.” 

Another giggle bubbles out of you, though the joke isn’t really that hilarious. You secretly love when James calls you names like that. It makes your heart do all sorts of funny, acrobatic things. You don’t love that it’s probably not so secret, and he can almost definitely tell. His eyes go warm now, a knowing smile playing on the corner of his mouth. 

“Yeah,” you say, “I’ll think about it.” 

“You should come,” he encourages, leaning his hands back on the mattress. You very pointedly do not let your eyes linger on his forearms as he does so. “It’d make me happy to see you there.” 

“You’re always happy,” you tease. 

“That’s because you only see me when I’m seeing you.” You must look confused, because James’ clarifies, voice softening slightly, “I can’t help but be happy when I’m with you, sweetheart.” 

The combined effect of the words, the tone of his voice, the sweet way he’s looking at you—it starts up more than butterflies in your stomach. There’s got to be a whole ecosystem in there by now, with buzzing bees and jumping frogs and everything. You look down, a half-hearted effort to hide the smile that takes you.

“James,” you murmur, lightly chiding. 

The door comes open, and your brother’s eyes widen as they take in you on James’ bed, his hand an inch away from your leg and both of you looking terribly caught. Then they narrow. 

“James Potter, zip your pants back up right this instant!” 

“Sirius!” you exclaim, and there’s no lightness to this chiding, your face heating with mortification. You glance at James’ zipper, just to be sure—and yup, it’s fully closed, everything contained—and then glance quickly away, horrified all over again that you’d looked. 

“We weren’t even doing anything,” you seethe, knowing your stare matches your brother’s as you glower at each other from across the room. “What are you even doing back?” 

Sirius rolls his eyes, utilizing that older brother’s insouciance he knows gets under your skin like nothing else. “It seems you’ve gotten turned around. These are the boys’ dorms.” His words drip venom onto the dull red rug. “I’ll be happy to escort you back to yours. Let’s go.” 

“No.” You set both hands on James’ bed, feeling ridiculously petulant. Sirius raises a brow as if to say No? but you ignore him. “This dorm is as much James’ as it is yours, and he invited me here.” 

“Pads,” James says, not quite softly, but mildly compared to the fiery tones you and your brother are throwing back and forth, “we’re just talking.” 

“And now you’re done talking.” Sirius shrugs, stalking toward you. You grip James’ sheets a bit tighter on instinct. “If I recall, you have a potions’ essay to write, and you’re not—ugh.” He grunts, wresting you away from James’ bed using a hold that’s worked since you were kids. James himself offers no help, other than a sympathetic grimace as you’re hauled off. Sirius fixes him with a cold glare in return. “You’re not getting that done in here.” 

“You are so immature,” you gripe as he starts tugging you towards the stairs, your feet barely skimming the ground. 

“We can talk about—oi, quit!—we can talk about who’s more mature when you stop pinching me, you prick!” 

[bedoballoons]

Fontaine, Sumeru , Inazuma boys + Zhongli and Xiao with a GN! Darling that has Newts Briefcase from fantastic beasts

Your blog looks beautiful btw

Awwe thank you so much!! <3 I hope you enjoy!

─⊰⁠⊹ฺ🎃𝔾𝕖𝕟𝕤𝕙𝕚𝕟 ℍ𝕖𝕒𝕕𝕔𝕒𝕟𝕠𝕟𝕤⊰⁠⊹ฺ🎃

{༻~Reader with a briefcase like Newts~༺}

CW: Fluffy and magical! (Pet names: Lyney: Mon amour)

(Includes: Lyney, Zhongli, Tighnari, Heizou, and Xiao!)

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

𑁍༄Lyney:

Lyney obviously didn't know every magic trick in Teyvat, that would be almost impossible, but he did know quite a few of them and he could usually figure out how others were done fairly quickly, but how your suitcase managed to hold a whole boar, crystalflies of every element, and tens more animals, some of which he'd never seen before, was beyond anything even he could imagine.

You'd left him speechless, mouth agape as he stared at you in awe, "Mon amour, how is this possible? How are you doing that?" You blushed slightly, seeing the way his eyes shun like that of child's when they see something magic for the first time, "I can't tell, it's a secret, but you're welcome to use it for one of your shows, just make sure to feed the scorpions, they get angry otherwise and they aren't very nice when they're angry."

𑁍༄Zhongli:

Zhongli stared at your happy face, your arms extended outwards, being used as a perch for at least 10 exotic birds...all of which had appeared from your suitcase. Originally he had assumed this was only possible because the work of an adepti, but upon closer inspection he saw no signs of adeptal power, infact it seemed completely foreign to him...which only made him more curious.

"You say it can hold as many animals as the forests of Liyue? That's certainly a incredible feat...may I asked how you've acquired such a unique and interesting treasure?" He smiled slightly at you, hoping you'd clear up the mysterious nature behind the briefcase, but you simply chuckled, "One day I'll tell you, but for now it would be far more fun to keep it a secret~"

𑁍༄Tighnari:

Tighnari was sitting in front of your suitcase with his eyes glued to it like at any moment it could actually explode, not because it was somehow holding more animals than he even knew of, but from the sheer amount power such a item would have to have. In all of his days of studying at the akademiya and traveling to other lands in search of new plant varieties, he'd never seen anything like it. "Does it contains exotic plants as well? Do each of the animals have their own ecosystems? If you shut the suitcase for to long does the oxygen run out or does the suit case somehow supply oxygen? Have you ever tried to go in the suit case?"

Your eyes widened at his many questions, more and more spilling from his lips before he could stop himself...frazzling you slightly. You hadn't expected him to get so excited about it, but even with his never ending questions, it was absolutely adorable to see him this way. It was like he'd found a miracle and he wanted to learn everything about it with you.

𑁍༄Heizou:

Heizou stuck his head into your suitcase, trying to find clues as to how it worked, but the detective was more than just stumped, he was simply baffled as to how something like it could even exist. "You weren't joking when you said you wanted to show me something beyond my imagination. I've seen Onis with horns fight beetles and gods who can make the air actually buzz with emotion, but I don't think I've ever seen anything that has come close to the mystery behind this. Do you think you could live in it?"

"I suppose you could, but I'm not exactly sure. You could be the test subject if you'd like." You winked at him teasingly and he smiled up at you, almost like he was actually considering it for moment, "I think I prefer the scenery in the outside world, but we could always take a romantic vacation together inside the suitcase~" Your cheeks turned a scarlett red as he giggled at you quietly, if you teased him, it was only fair he teased back.

𑁍༄Xiao:

Xiao kneeled down, softly scratching the underside of a mora weasels chin, unbothered by the fact the animal had just run out of your suitcase along side a fairly massive boar. You actually seemed more surprised by his reaction than he did of your suitcase, "So what do you think hmm?"

"I think,...it reminds of the teapots us adepti sometimes use. They appear normal on the outside, but on the inside it's a island specifically designed with our comfort in mind, I've never seen a suitcase version before though.." His eyes met yours and your heart skipped a beat, you responded without even thinking and it flustered you to no end, "Do you have a teapot? May I see it if you do?"

"...I...don't have one, maybe, one day...we can make one together?"

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

◥(•̀￦•́)◤☪︎ ִ ࣪𖤐 ☾𖤓~Have a nice day~*⁠.⁠✧

[strwbmei]

summary: what could've happened if angell chose to be selfish for once

contains: desperate/emotional sex, transfem!angell, fem!reader, angell tops, marking, creampie, cunnilingus, fingering, angst no comfort, whatever the opposite of reunion sex is, parting sex???, mentions of crying but not in a sexy way, mentions of blood (also not in a sexy way), tw kidnapping, but you kind of learn to live with it, whatever the hell is going on in angell's event, everything is consensual and soft despite the alarming tags, mentions of drugs but it's unrelated to the smut, unresolved feelings on both sides, tw murder unrelated to smut, devirginifying sex i forgot what it was called, set in between Ditty Nightsong and Angell's interrogation

pairing(s): angell x chief!reader

a/n: I HAD to write this after finishing her event. Seeing Angell and the chief slowly get along despite their circumstances was such a treat. Also, first PTN fic!

You're tidying Angell's room up, careful to not make any noise since you don't want to wake her. Seeing the piles of pillows and clothes on the floor, you can't help but sigh. How has she lived like this for so long?

A faint song plays in the background. It's obvious the record player has seen better days—it's one of the more used appliances in this house. The song playing is the one Angell listens to while on the job. Huh.

Days are passing by, living this lie,

Not knowing what we're looking for,

As you dust off the furniture, you can't help but smile faintly. A change of pace like this is nice once in a while. Your only worries are preparing meals and doing maintenance around the house, which Angell doesn't even require you to do. Just something to keep you busy, you suppose.

It helps that she isn't a picky eater. Despite your lackluster culinary skills, Angell finishes each meal without complaint. She's even made a few positive comments lately. Maybe you should try making a meal for the sinners once you return to the MBCC.

Oh. Right. You're returning to the MBCC.

Gray, these walls are gray and there's no sky.

There is no hope, there is no soar.

I know somewhere there must be more.

It feels... weird to admit, but you've grown fond of this lifestyle. A domestic life with Angell like this is comforting, as long as you don't consider the fact that she'll definitely hand you over to her client as soon as she gets in contact with them.

Maybe you're just like the goldfish in her apartment, swimming blissfully in their tank as they stay oblivious to the outside world. You doubt Angell would be able to take care of them if she moves houses again.

You gather the clothes from the floor, catching a whiff of dried blood and sweat. Yikes. You wouldn't be surprised if the tank top you were holding had a whole ecosystem inside of it. It wouldn't hurt to wash these later, you think to yourself.

Just as you're about to finish putting the clothes away, you feel someone suddenly pull you into a tight hug, as if you'd escape from their grasp otherwise. It's Angell. You can hear how shaky her breathing is. It seems she had a bad dream.

"Don't go,"

The words Angell had been holding herself back so desperately not to say inevitably leave her, like a clock knowingly marching towards the hour of its death. She's glad that you can't see her right now with how her lips are quivering. You can still feel her hands trembling around you, though.

It's all so stupid. Angell is so stupid. She let herself get used to you, your warmth, and your kindness akin to sunlight so bright it hurt her eyes. And where has that gotten her? Naive; borderline delusional. Possibly dead, too. What have you done to this assassin, Chief of the MBCC?

"Please."

You feel as if you're meeting Angell for the first time when she says this. She has never acted like a dangerous hitman at home, but she has never acted so... desperate, either. You don't mind seeing another side of her, but the sudden change in demeanor is perplexing.

"Angell?" You call out. The woman's grip on you gets ever so slightly tighter in response. "Everything's okay. I'm here." You're not going anywhere—or so you'd like to say. Your relationship with her, if you could even call it that, is already far too filled with lies for you to add one more.

You can feel Angell's muscles tense around you. She holds her strength back, protecting you as if you were but a candle flickering in the wind. You feel safe. "Sorry. Did I wake you up?" Although most of Angell's actions are obscured from your vision, you can feel her shake her head.

"Don't leave me."

The two of you are captive and captor. Not roommates, and most certainly not lovers for Angell to say such things. She could end your life at this very moment if she so wished. So why is it that Angell is the one who finds herself powerless in your grasp?

You stay silent. If you were being honest, you don't want to leave her either. But the world doesn't work that way. You have responsibilities; the both of you. There are more pressing matters for you to handle than adjusting the hands of a clock and feeding goldfish.

Angell knows this. She values professionalism and credibility far more than her personal preferences. That's the only reason why she kept you here in the first place. Which is why you don't understand what exactly has gotten into Angell; what has pushed her to give up her creed like this.

Sensing the mutual hesitation in the air, Angell pushes you down onto the bed. Her eyes are slightly swollen and red, as if she had just been crying. You wonder what she had been dreaming about. You want to comfort her.

In this state, she'll listen to whatever you say, whatever falsehoods you feed her. Tell Angell everything will be alright and that your time together won't end. She'll believe you this once, even if it leads to her death.

You're pinned under Angell's weight, but you aren't afraid. There's something about her that ironically makes you feel safe, despite how aloof she can be. Angell doesn't shy away from your touch, either, even if she knows that you could use your shackles on her. "Angell..." Your hand reaches up to cup her cheek. She instinctively leans into it. "You're not alone anymore."

Angell's eyes widen uncharacteristically from your words. She tries to act unaffected, but you feel her breath hitch. Is it true? The walls she had built around herself to shield herself from others had eventually turned into a prison isolating her from the rest of the world. Could Angell... really break them down?

She does what feels most natural and leans in to seal your lips in a passionate kiss. It's desperate like a symphony of sorrow, yet as gentle as if she were handling a delicate flower. Angell's inexperience is clear.

How unfair. A kiss is something that you should only share with someone that you love.

And still, you return it just the same. You mirror her fervor as you chase after her lips, your elbows propped on the mattress to hold you up. Its softness and warmth is a pleasant surprise. Most likely because Angell only used to sleep on the couch before you came into her life.

She detaches herself from your lips after what felt like forever and a day. Angell's brows are furrowed, and her eyes are hesitant. She gazes at you as if to ask, is this really okay?

Whether she's asking if this is okay with you or if it's okay for her to indulge in her desires for once, you have no idea. It doesn't matter. The answer to both questions remains the same.

This time, you're the one to pull her into a passionate make-out. Angell groans, eagerly savoring each kiss as if it'll be her last. You brush her hair away from her face.

"Everything will be alright." You promise, both to yourself and the to woman in front of you. But you're wrong. How could Angell ever be fine without you?

She can abandon this house, her pride, or even her life if need be. But you? Oh, god, not you. How could you get Angell used to your warmth and kindness, just to rip it all away from her?

It'd be less cruel to treat her with mockery and disdain. It's what Angell is used to and it's what she believes she deserves.

"No," she says firmly. She buries her face into your chest, her arms wrapped around your waist. "Don't go." For some unknown reason, Angell is convinced that you're going to leave.

There are still a few days until the "gig" she took expires, and even then, she can choose what she wants to do with you afterward. Angell could keep you locked up here for as long as she wants, and you wouldn't be able to do a thing.

But she isn't that kind of person.

Angell doesn't belong with those scum on the dark web. Her heart is unadulterated by the filth surrounding her, and despite how she acts, you know Angell loves helping people deep down.

"I'm here." You comfort her. Once again, you have to stop yourself from telling her that you'll stay. It seems you accidentally said that out loud, though. "...Liar." Angell mumbles, lips now trailing along your jaw and neck.

Sighing in bliss, you remove your coat to give her more space to work with. You toss it to a corner of the room. You'll clean it up again later. Her hands roam around your torso, exploring to find the buttons of your shirt.

Frantically, Angell works to remove them. She rushes as if she's going to lose you any moment now, not even bothering to remove her own clothes yet. "Don't go..." Angell pleads again before her mouth bites softly from your collarbone to your breasts. She unclasps and removes your bra as she goes.

"Angell..." You sigh her name as she fondles one of your breasts. She touches you with a gentleness she's never shown anyone else. When Angell looks up at you, her eyes reflect an emotion that you can't identify.

Longing? Regret? Lust? You can't tell. Honestly, you don't know how you feel about her either. You thought that Angell was weird at first, but you always believed that she had a good heart. You've grown fond of her as time passed—too fond. Angell isn't the only one wearing her heart on her sleeve, apparently.

For the first time, she calls your name. Not "Chief," but your name. God, it's stupid how such a simple thing has your heart racing when you're literally about to fuck. Since when has your kidnapper gotten you so smitten?

Angell's hands, strong albeit a bit slim, map out every plane on your body. She savors the feeling of each curve and dip and takes her time etching it into her memory. Lips work to kiss every inch of your now exposed skin, occasionally leaving small bite marks.

Not once has Angell treated you like the Chief of the MBCC. She knows of your identity and the good deeds you've done, yet she treats you like any other person. It's one of the many qualities you've grown to love about Angell.

The atmosphere in the room gets warmer, and you use it as an excuse to take off her leather jacket. The other woman is left in her tank top and pants. The prominence of her collarbones sadden you, although it's gotten better since the first day you were brought to this safehouse. You wish she'd take care of herself more.

Angell's hands stop at your belt. You enjoy the few seconds of her struggling with herself before she speaks up. "Can I...?" You smile at her consideration for you, making sure that you're fine with what she's doing. "Yeah. Go ahead."

Office wear is such a hassle to take off, you think to yourself as you help Angell take off your pants. Are all those layers really necessary? Again, the piece of clothing is tossed away to god-knows-where.

Immediately, the woman pounces back on you, now leaving kisses along your stomach as she holds onto your hips. You trace her scars softly with your fingers. You can't imagine the hardships that Angell has been through. You're happy to provide any sort of respite to her.

In the moment Angell stops to look up at you, there is an undeniable air of sadness and guilt. In an attempt to cheer the woman up, you tuck her hair behind her ears and attempt to tease her. "Don't miss me too much."

As you expected, Angell stays silent. You can feel her relax a bit, though—that's a win in your book. She finds comfort in how you never change. Angell slowly dips the pad of one of her fingers into your folds, careful not to hurt you. "Mm... Angell..." You bite back a moan.

"You can go faster. I can take it." You reassure the woman through heavy breaths. It's honestly embarrassing how wet you are, but Angell takes it as a sign that she's doing good. She's become more confident; now thrusting her finger inside of you all the way, albeit still at a gentle pace.

Angell is observant. She looks for what motions earn the most positive reaction from you with an almost deadpan look on her face as if she's not literally fingerfucking you into the mattress. It shows how focused she is on making you feel good.

"Is this your first time?" Angell asks suddenly. She doesn't look at you. "Yeah... Why?" You respond. Angell stays quiet, continuing the movement of her fingers. The question caught you a bit off guard. She didn't seem like the type to refuse to mess with virgins or care about the status of anyone's virginity in general.

Just when you let out a moan from her grazing your g-spot, a realization hits you. This is Angell's first time, too. You doubt she's ever had any real romantic experience before, much less sexual. It's no wonder she seems so nervous. You make a mental note to reassure and praise her.

Angell takes notice of how you let out a sound whenever she grinds against a specific place and abuses the same location with each thrust of her fingers. When she sees you trying to grind against her hand, (because of how good it feels, but she doesn't know that) she takes it as a sign that you need more.

"I'm going to add another finger," Angell says more like a statement than a question, but she waits for your approval before doing so anyway. You've never felt so full. Her years of experience using a sword have calloused her hands ever so slightly, and although you feel bad for what led her to a life of crime, damn did it feel good rubbing against your walls.

Angell loves the way you moan her name. She can't get enough of it; she wants to hear it roll off your tongue like a starving wolf longing for prey in the dead of winter. She listens to the sound of each letter eagerly, as if engraving it into the very essence of her soul. She wants you to say her name over and over again, and only hers. As is in the present and as will be in the future.

Angell's own selfishness surprises her. Maybe she's just like the greedy criminals she has both killed and worked for. Angell has never denied the possibility—she's not the saint that you think she is. There is blood on her hands, and not even the purest of oceans can wash it away. She has long since come to terms with her fate of isolation.

You arch your back into her touch, your arms wrapped around her back. If not for the tank top she was wearing, you're sure you would've left some claw marks along it's broadness already. You have to stop your legs from closing on their own, the overwhelming pleasure proving to be too much. Soft moans and the scent of sex fill the room. "Feels so good, Angell..."

She takes a deep breath, the only things filling her senses being your sweet voice and the feeling of your warm pussy stretching to accommodate her fingers. You have no idea how long Angell has wanted to touch you like this. You do things to her that she can't explain.

Your moans increase in frequency, getting higher pitched as you feel yourself nearing release. It seems Angell is a natural at using her fingers, seeing how she's about to make you cum quicker than you could ever get yourself to. "Angell... I'm-"

Before you can warn her, your legs tremble and you cream all over her hand. After continuing her movements to help you come down from your high, Angell pulls her digits out, fascinated by the string of cum connecting them. Much to your surprise, she puts both fingers into her mouth.

"...I've never tasted anything like this before." Angell remarks. Her sense of taste is dull—she isn't exaggerating when she says she can't tell apart food that's edible from food that's spoiled, or raw from burnt. But you? Your taste is as distinct as it can be to her tongue. You've ignited a dangerous fire in the woman.

"More." Angell demands, positioning her head between your legs. Just as you're about to protest that you're still sensitive, she speaks up again. "Can I?" Angell tilts her head as she asks for permission. Fuck it. You know you wouldn't be able to refuse her and her annoyingly adorable personality anyway.

You sigh at your lack of self discipline when it comes to Angell. "Yes, you can." Those words are all it takes for her to dive headfirst into your dripping sex. Angell's tongue explores your warmth with a newfound confidence, using what she's learned from fingering you to eat you out as skillfully as possible.

God, she's absolutely addicted to your taste—to you. Angell can't get enough of how you squirm under her touch; how you moan her name so wantonly. She'd stay in between your legs for forever if she could, but forever is not a luxury that the two of you have.

Angell wishes that life would be as easy as adjusting the hands of the clock. She wishes she could turn everything back to how it used to be. Angell would hold on to every passing moment with you like a painter desperately trying to capture the perfect sunset before it fades.

Each wet lick up your slit is greedier and hungrier than the last. She's gentle with you, yes, but you can feel the weight of the underlying desire that's been building up in the pit of her stomach for god knows how long. What Angell feels for you is akin to a devouring darkness: once you get entwined, there's no going back. Whether that applies to you, her, or both of you remains unknown. Maybe you know the answer but choose to ignore it.

Body still awash in the aftermath of your previous orgasm, it doesn't take long for you to feel that familiar coil in your belly building up once again. It takes all of your strength to resist pushing Angell's head down between your legs. Well, not that she could go any further. Too busy moaning Angell's name to warn her with words, you hope that she'll get the message with how your legs are trembling.

Sure enough, you cum with a breathless gasp soon after. She eats you out through your high, careful to lap up all of your fluids without overstimulating you. Angell is a quick learner, after all. You're left panting for breath after two consecutive earth-shattering orgasms, yet Angell hasn't even gotten undressed. That won't do. Aside from the damage your pride would take, you want to return the favor.

"Angell, lay down for me, will you?" You ask of her through your heavy breathing. Although Angell has her doubts, she immediately follows your command. "I'm not tired yet." You chuckle at her words but shudder to think about its implications. The stability of your legs would not survive after getting eaten out by Angell again. Though, the same might be said for what you're going to do next. "I want to make you feel good too."

You sit with your thighs on either side of Angell's legs, already working on removing her clothes. Once they're off, you're quick to capture her lips in a chain of soft, yet lustful kisses. She gives in to you more easily than you expected. You had the impression that Angell would be the type to want to be in control of everything at any time, but she lets you lead this dance.

Although the woman is probably unaware, the size of her boner is huge. Seven inches at the very least. You bite your lip at its sheer girth. You'd be lying if you said that you never had any doubts about it fitting inside of you, but it's nothing you can't handle... probably. As if reading your thoughts, Angell speaks. "...I don't have any lube."

Your eyes wander to the bottle of lotion you put on her bedside table, (which was the only surface available for it at the time,) but you eventually decide against using it since it's most likely expired. "It's fine. We'll start out slow."

Angell likes the insinuation that you'll go faster once you're more comfortable. She helps you align yourself with her cock, gently holding you by your hips. Although Angell has her hands on you, she lets you control the pace and only tries to assist when necessary.

With bated breath, you sink onto the tip. Her length feels endless, filling you up completely inch after inch. Angell relishes in how your eyes almost roll into the back of your head and the moan you let out when you finally take her inside entirely. Still, she places your comfort and pleasure above everything else. "Are you sure about this?"

Your chest heaves as you get used to the sensation of feeling so... full. It takes you a few seconds to reply. "This is nothing that the Chief of the MBCC can't handle," Angell smiles at your reply. Your act of false bravado isn't fooling anyone. It gives the woman a sense of pride to have such an important figure of society in her hands like this.

Just being inside of you has Angell biting her lip. She'd never imagine in her life that she'd be able to sleep with anyone, much less someone as kind and beautiful as you are. The intimacy of it all makes everything that much more pleasurable, and Angell hopes you feel the same way.

The two of you stay like this. Both of you are aware that you don't have much time left, but you're not in a rush. Rather, you take the opportunity to enjoy this moment thoroughly. It takes a while for you to get used to Angell's sheer size, and it also takes her a while to get used to these unfamiliar sensations.

Angell is barely able to conceal the pure ecstasy she feels when you start moving. Your pussy is just so tight. She's not one to masturbate often, but she can say with confidence that being inside of you feels miles better and much more personal than rutting into her hand just to get rid of her morning wood.

You take Angell down to the base, albeit with much difficulty at first, and start off by grinding. You roll your hips back and forth, the tip of her cock almost kissing the entrance of your cervix. Angell grips your waist harder, but still lets you control the pace of your lovemaking. Her trust in you makes your heart flutter.

With Angell's hair splayed like flowing rivers on the sheets, her eyes fluttered shut, and soft moans escaping her mouth now and then, you aren't able to resist the desire to kiss her. It starts with a small smooch on her neck, then two. And then these kisses turn into hickeys one after another.

The feeling is weird and alien to Angell, but she surrenders herself to you all the same, even tilting her head to make it easier for you. You feel bad about leaving them in such obvious places, but knowing her, she wouldn't bother to hide them. And you'd be right, because if anything, Angell would wear them as a badge of honor. Who cares what other people think of her sex life?

Up, and down. Up, and down. You move your hips at a steady pace once you get the hang of it. You relish in the way the sides of her cockhead rub against your walls so deliciously. As you're straddling Angell and leaving more hickeys wherever you can access, she gets an idea to play with your clit while you ride her. You seemed to like having it stimulated earlier.

Soon after, the both of you are a moaning mess. This small gesture makes everything feel a hundred times better for you, and in turn, you move faster. You lift yourself enough so her tip is barely inside of you, and immediately bring yourself down again.

Angell curses under her breath. She holds onto you as if you'll disappear otherwise, chanting your name like a mantra; like a sinner begging for forgiveness. The sight of you bouncing up and down on her cock while looking down at her so lovingly is enough to make the inexperienced woman swoon.

"I'm close..." Angell warns. You don't care. In fact, you seem to be riding her harder; trying to milk her for all she's worth. "Want you inside." You lean forward to kiss her. Angell chases after your lips fervently, her hands holding you close as you continue to move your hips while her thumb presses down on your clitoris.

You swallow each other's muffled moans. The only thing that matters to the both of you in this moment is one another. You'd freeze time and stay like this with Angell for eternity if you could. She cums with a strained groan, and you feel her seed filling you up. It's oddly comforting to know that Angell has left a mark inside of you.

You continue your ministrations slowly, and yoi have an orgasm of your own soon after. The mixture of you and Angell's fluids form a white ring on the base of her cock. It doesn't take long until the two of you collapse next to each other, breathing heavily as sweat runs down both of your bodies.

Although you feel refreshed, you have no idea how to handle this. Your relationship with Angell, your return to the MBCC, everything. The confusion is understandable considering you literally just slept with your kidnapper who's been holding you captive. You'll cross that bridge when you get there, you suppose.

Seeing Angell stare at you, most likely with no idea how to proceed either, you feel like you should say something. "That was great, Angell. Thank you." She smiles at your words before pulling you into a cuddle. Angell really is just like a cat, you think to yourself.

With these thoughts in mind, your impulse to scratch her behind the ears just like you would to a stray cat on the side of the road win. Before you can retract your hand to apologize, Angell leans into your touch, sighing contently. You swear you hear her purr, even.

"You really... don't want to stay at the Bureau?" You ask. You regret letting those words leave your mouth, but you can't bring yourself to care now that you're running out of time. You're more than willing to fight for her. "You'll be safe. You can have my red bean soup any time you want."

Angell knows that you mean each word that you say. You won't let anyone from the dark web bother her, and even though you have responsibilities, she knows that you'll fulfill your promise. That's why it hurts.

"Tomorrow. I'll give you my answer tomorrow." Angell speaks up, just as you start to fear that you might've ruined this intimate moment. Her words give you hope. It's faint, but it's there. You'd like to say that you wouldn't, but you'd cling to any chance to spend more time with Angell; have her by your side even if only for a second more.

However, the woman has already made an irreversible decision: one that she fears has consequences that she'll be carrying for the rest of her life. For now, both of you are content with your current state.

"Stay with me," Angell mumbles, trying to enjoy your scent and affection the best her tired body can manage. A thought passes both of your minds as you're entangled in each other's embrace: it'd be nice if we could stay like this forever. It saddens Angell to know that that thought would only be left as an 'if.' "Just for a bit longer."

"Tomorrow" never comes. Tomorrow will never come without you by her side.

Angell wakes up. The bag containing her trusted blade is held near her body. She finds that she hasn't been able to let go of it ever since you've left her—or rather, ever since she left you. It's the only thing left of the time you spent together. It's the only thing that assures Angell that you were real, not just an illusion.

A lot of things have changed. She finds herself sleeping more. Angell clings to her memories with you through dreams, even trying to "make" new ones whenever the chance presents itself. She's also taken less assassination jobs lately, instead picking odd jobs that you'd be likely to choose for her.

Angell remembers the last one she took. The man was a leader of a drug cartel, infamous for getting young sinners addicted and using them to transport goods. The world would be better off without him, and Angell was no different. He had a wife and a toddler son. He called for his wife's name before he drew his final breath. Perhaps he too was but another victim of the cruelty of this side of the world—perhaps he too wanted to escape the void of the dark oceans and live under the sun's warmth.

Angell is too far gone. A shark cannot start living on land, no matter how much it wishes. She belongs in a bottomless abyss where the sun must not pierce through, while you belong on the other side of this fucked up world, risking your life to save everyone that can be saved. Angell is not a part of that group. She feels your sunlight faintly, but as much as she wants to bask in it, it cannot pierce through the deep waters of her heart. It must not.

Maybe things could've turned out differently if she met you earlier.

Angell stands up from the dusty couch. She is the only one in this desolate home. You're not there to scold her for sleeping on the sofa when she has a clean bed. Not even her goldfish keeps her company on these cold nights—but she trusts that you've taken good care of them. You've always taken care of everyone around you, but who's going to do the same for you?

Particles of dust float in her apartment. She finds that there's no reason to clean it up. Once again, her fridge is full of nearly expired, barely edible "food." As Angell gets ready to head out, she sees her reflection in the shards of broken glass on the floor. It was from a vase that came with the safehouse that she knocked over and forgot to clean. Huh. It looks like she's been crying.

You wake up in a cold sweat. The coolness of your desk against your cheek is unpleasant. The arm you've been using as a pillow is numb. You scramble to sit up straight and look at the time: 2:48AM. Most of the Bureau is asleep. A blanket that you didn't even realize was resting on your shoulders falls off of you, most likely Adjutant Nightingale trying to make sure you don't catch a cold.

On a tray set apart from the paperwork you had been working on, there is a note, a sandwich, and a cup of iced coffee. You assume the perpetrator is the same as the person who wrapped a blanket around you, and as it seems from reading the note, you were right. The contents are a mix of Nightingale's concern for you and scolding you for not taking care of your well-being.

You feel bad for worrying her all the time. Honestly, you're surprised she hasn't resigned yet with how often you get kidnapped. It's not just Nightingale either, even some sinners have noticed the bags under your eyes and how distant you've been acting ever since you came back. You should really pull yourself together. If not for yourself, then for the sinners who rely on you, the Chief of the MBCC.

Why do you keep dreaming about Angell? You've been betrayed many times before, and although you'll never get used to it, you've always gotten back up each time quicker than the last. What is it about her that's so different? Why does she affect you so much?

You open your laptop with a newfound sense of determination, but this time, it's not for work. If you want to stop a problem, you should tackle the source of it, right? Or maybe that's just an excuse. You're going to find her, and along with her, answers. After you press the 'enter' key, the simple yet eerie screen you've grown familiar with welcomes you back:

"Welcome to DisMyth"

[dropsnectar]

Pollen and Potions: Bee-men x afab!reader

PART THREE

This is a longer part than the rest, but its all necessary dialogue so it should be fine. More fluffy and romance than smut, BUT!! Their will be smut in the next section! I know I said this will only be 4 parts, but it may actually be more like 5 or 6. Anyway, hope you like!

So. You were starting to learn that using large batches of magic back to back weren't ideal for a young witch's health. It seemed like you might have overdone it, as when you woke you found you had been asleep for TWO WHOLE DAYS. So. If you were going to do magic, it looked like you were going to have to pace yourself, or perhaps use LESS magic.

You put yourself to learning more about witchcraft. The thing was, your grandmother's books didn't really go into the basics, and as witches were so rare, information was hard to find. Of course, the internet was full of supposed witch spells, or frameworks, but it was like throwing dice. Some spells didn't work. Some spells took up WAY too much energy. Some were just… fine? But not what you needed. 

Next you checked out forum sites. Maybe you could find a community through that way? But all you found were psychics and tarot readers. Nice people, but not what you needed.

Whelp. Maybe you needed to look at the issue differently. The environment used to be a beautiful, thriving area. What had changed between now and then? In order to understand a magic ecosystem, you had to understand ecosystems. So, for the rest of the week you busied yourself with ecology study. It was turning out that this project you had adopted on a whim would need a lot more time and breadth of knowledge then you originally thought.

***

When you met with Rena, under Lyith’s friendly gaze, you found that the magic you had cast hadn't waned at all. The flowers had grown beautifully and continued to give magic nectar that created the best honey. Rena was beside herself. “The elders of the hive say they haven't had honey of this quality since they were children! You are really onto something here, little one.”

Rena had now gotten in the habit of calling you little one. Sure, as a Bee-man she was slightly taller than you, but not by much. Also the constant fluttering and floating didn't help. 

“You've been given permission to test your magic on our other gardens as well. As long as we are careful and continue with caution!” Rena babbled. You gave her a small smile and felt Lyiths arm on your shoulder. He laid his head on your other shoulder, leaning his fuzzy head against yours. 

“Whats wrong?”

You wiggled a little. “I'm just having a hard time brainstorming how to do this. I know I said I'd help you guys, but I might not be able to use as much magic as last time. To be honest, I don't really know much about my mana and my limits…” you explained your situation. Expecting there to be disappointment, you were surprised to find none.

“I can’t help but think… How long will this last? One spell isn’t going to cut it for that long. I want to create something that will last for you guys, but that might take a while… and doing just this took all the mana I had. I want to do better. But I don’t want to hurt myself either, especially when I don’t know how this could affect my health in the long run…” The bee-men seemed to be catching on.

“Of course, little one. We wouldn't want you to harm yourself.”

 Lyith also popped up, his voice almost in your ear.

“Us Bee-men also have something like mana. Our magic is not never ending. We would have fixed this situation ourselves if it was.”

Rena reached forward and grabbed your hand, giving it a reassuring pat. “We don't have to do anything today. We can commence whenever you'd like. Our flowers have spread out beautifully and even this is enough.”

You frowned.

“I may have to do this every spring. Or even redo it in the summer…”

“You don’t owe us anything. You are trying your best to do us a kindness. And our hive knows and sees that. We are beyond grateful to you… Its… We’ve needed…We are truly grateful.” His expression fell at the mention of his hive, his antennas drooping. Rena moved forward and held Lyith, a sad expression on her own face.

There was a pause in conversation that grew somewhat awkward.

How do I make this better? You tried to brainstorm, but only one thing came to mind. 

You went over and gave the both of them a big bear hug. It was a tense one, but you tried to adjust your emotions, instead concentrating on how fond you had grown of the two. You tried to shout it as loud as you could through your brain at them.

This seemed to break the spell, as Rena started to laugh. Lyith looked at you affectionately. 

“I know we haven't known each other long, but I just want to say, you can count on me. If you ever need to talk about anything let me know. I'll listen.”

Rena and Lyith hummed in response, returning your group hug with a long squeeze.

Long hugs. The favorite actions of a Bee-men.

After some quiet reassurances, the two of you decided to idle while the two foraged on the edge of the Wood. You walked with them and asked them as many questions you could think of. How old were they? Were they able to do other magics? You had thought Bee-men to be isolated. How come they knew so much about human culture?

Lyith was the one who answered you most of the time. It seemed that bee-man typically lived double the life of a human, with Rena and Lyith being about 45, and 51, Lyith being the oldest. They were in the same season of life as you though!

Bee-man could do some other magics(they didn't go much into what), but they specialized in making their magical honey, which fortified the health and wellbeing of a Bee-men. 

They didn’t say it outright but it seemed like the dip in magic had affected the nutrition of their food source. They kept their own bees and shared honey, but it still wasn't enough, so they had ventured out into human society to buy fruit when it was necessary. They also did trade with neighboring beast-men, the Wolfmen being happy to share their fruit for their Bee’s wax waste. I 

“What exactly do you guys do for fun though?” You asked, trying to lighten the mood.

Lyith smiled. “Late night flying is fun.”

Rena snorted. “You mean late night spying. Lyith has a habit of looking through people's windows.”

Lyith wrinkled his nose at Rena. “If they did not want to be seen they would have drawn the curtains. It's not strange, I am just curious about human life is all.”

Rena reached forward and pinched Lyiths nose. “Poor thing. So bored he must make mischief.”

You looked at Lyith with surprise. His big eyes grew in concern and he pouted at you.

“You are not going to tease me too are you? I promise, I never see anything scandalous. I'm a good little bee.” He fluttered his eyes at you.

You giggled and pushed his shoulder. 

“As long as you're not spying on me I guess it's harmless.”

Lyiths expression shifted to one of his dopey smiles. It always surprised you how innocent he could look despite his size. Was it maybe…

“So… I may have read that you guys are telepathic right?” 

Renas face changed into a smirk. 

“Yes, and?”

“ Well, have you guys ever… used your powers on me?” 

Rena snorted. Lyith gave you an unreadable expression. “We Bee-man are very particular about sharing our heads outside of our hives. But no. We haven't done anything to you if that's what you meant…”

Oh. He was pouting now.

“No! Thats not what I meant! I just… i feel so comfortable around you guys it's almost supernatural. I just. Idk. Wanted to know. Please I didn't mean anything by it!”

Lyith wrinkled his nose at you and Rena continued to seem amused. You felt helpless and got a bit upset with yourself. You did your best to calm yourself down but you were upset. You had so few friends here and you were afraid you blew it. A wave of loneliness swept through you.

Lyith was watching you the whole time, before sighing. “All will be forgiven if you give us some of those fruit tarts you made yesterday.”

You looked at him, shocked. 

“I thought you said you didn't spy on me!”

“I wasn't spying, I just happened to be foraging by the window, and smelled something amazing. It was all incidental.”

“There's sugar in the crust. Won’t your tummy get upset?”

He just smiled. Rena laughed. “He named his price. For offending us, we must get fruit tarts.”

Finally feeling better, the three of you walked(they let you walk!!!) Back to your home. You served them up your tarts, when finally the questions started coming about you. Why did you move here? Do you have any siblings? What were you like as a child?

This went on until dinner time, at which point you decided to shoo your new friends away. “ I'll be back to do the flowers tomorrow. We… we will see what I can do.” You admitted. The two of them smiled at you, hugging you tight for a good three minutes. They always lingered, nuzzling your face and hair, as if they were getting a whiff of you. You could smell their own perfume and tried not to think too much. Their goodbyes always felt so intimate. 

 Rena decided to pepper your face in kisses before they left. Lyith just rolled his eyes at her. When they drew apart you felt empty, like some piece of you was going with them.

***

As always, Lyith picked you up that morning. This time, you made sure to bring a scarf and hat, alongside emergency snacks in your bag. Where he was taking you next was a little longer of a trip, a whole ten minutes to the usual six. That was a long time when you were hurtling through the air.

You were surprised to drop into a small crowd. There were ten Bee-men present besides Rena, who seemed to be communicating silently with them. The air was full of bee noises; humming, purring, the fluttering of wings. The air smelled amazingly fresh, floral and syrupy. It was an odd smell, but it seemed to put you at ease somehow. And maybe a bit peckish.

A Beeman a whole foot and a half taller then Rena fluttered towards you. They bowed, of which you awkwardly returned before they reached forward and took your hand gently. Lyith started,

“This is Elder Bisou. He is the eldest of our hive. He is showing you respect.”

Elder Bisou smiled at you. “Little Witch, I welcome you to our territory. My human is a bit… unused. Please receive our thanks for your efforts.” He took your hand and leaned down so that it met his temple. You could feel the rush of his magic, like your mind was a fish bowl and he was putting a gentle hand on the glass. You could feel his warmth, his deep gratitude through it. 

Your back straightened and you felt water prick your eyelids. You gave him a slow nod, becoming acutely aware just how serious this whole situation actually was. Rena and Lyith had been dancing around it, but the Bee-men must be slowly starving to death. That was the only explanation for the depths of what you had felt.

“I will do my best.” Was all you could reply. 

Lyith, acting as your translator, took you to each Bee-men he could and introduced you. It seemed that some of the elders, as well as some of those who had free time had come to watch the “little witch” work. Most took your hand gently, and sent you a ghost of what their emotions were. There was a sort of film around the emotions, a barrier of sorts. Whether this was on purpose so you wouldn’t be overwhelmed, or just how their telepathy worked, you couldn't tell. 

You did your best to not let your nerves get to you as you dissected the sections of the field where you would be doing your experiments. You didn’t know how these particular flowers would take to your spell, so it was still best to be cautious. The bee-men looked on with interest.

You did your chants in a loud booming fashion, and channeled in as elegant a fashion as you could. Like always, the magic came, and the spell did its work. These flowers were different, like rainbow colored lavender. Rather than letting the magic gush through you, you let it gently trickle out, pacing yourself. When the deeds were done, you still felt sore, and you still held a headache in your temple, but there was no nausea, so growth! 

Once you were done with your work, there was a large excited buzzing throughout the forest. There was clapping, dancing, stomping of feet, pumping of many hands, whoops from Rena and Lyith. One Bee, a worker named Aidenn held a small wooden instrument in his hands and started to play. This triggered a chorus from the Bee-men. There was a harmonizing among the crowd and they started to circle each other, laughing and dancing. A circle of flying, spinning Bee-men formed.

Rena grabbed you by the waist and hoisted you onto her shoulder before joining in the circle of the dance. You giggled as you spun, feeling the giddiness in the air like it was laughing gas. That same pressure filled your mind and a part of your heart started to soar. It was intimate, but not stifling and you loved feeling so close to everyone.

You lifted your hands and, feeling in the spirit, decided to hum along. At some point Rena had taken you in her arms and held you close as they continued to fly in a circle, spinning and perrying, and switching. It was similar to square dancing, where there was a pattern to it. 

At one point, the tune changed and Lyith swooped down from above and grabbed you out of Rena’s arms. She snorted at him but let it happen, joining hands with another passing Bee-men. When Lyith gathered you in his arms, he cradled you as close as possible, surprising you. One hand was gripping firmly around your waist and the other crushing you to him. He landed on the ground, and the rest of the bee-men followed, causing something of a ballroom dance. 

“You did wonderfully today.” He breathed in your ear, causing them to redden. You pulled yourself back a bit to see his face and he was looking at you with such pride and affection it felt like a weight crushing your chest. You moved your hands from his shoulders to reach his own hands. You were shaky, but you wanted to return his feelings somehow. His palms were soft.

This caused him to laugh, a purring sort of trill coming from his throat. You couldn’t help a silly grin form on your face.

“I’m glad you came to my garden.” Was all you could think to say.

He looked at you, with those big black eyes, then reached forward and kissed you on the lips. It was only a peck, but you could feel his joy through it. 

Something complex within you, a mix of happiness, excitement, hope, all of your feelings rose up into your throat. Unable to find the words to express yourself, you took all of those big heavy emotions, wrapped them all up together and kissed him back, right there, in the middle of your makeshift dance floor.

When you pulled away Lyith looked shocked, his bottom lip hanging open. Adorable as usual. 

Rena hollered from the otherside of the gathering, sending out a big whoop. There was laughter, buzzing and an echoing whoop from some of the younger bee-men. Elder Bisou made some clicking sounds, but the sides of his mouth were slightly upturned.

It occurred to you then that you were in the middle of a group of very telepathic monster people. Your cheeks grew hot in embarrassment and you pulled away from Lyith a bit. Your shoes suddenly became very interesting. 

Lyith eventually turned your chin back up to face him. He held a small peaceful smile, before bumping his forehead to yours. He didn’t share his emotions but the affection was still there.

After you grew too tired to dance, you took a seat under a tree, munching on a granola bar. Another one of the Bee-men, a younger drone named Haven, made his way to sit next to you.

“I don’t know if it was mentioned, but honey production has picked up enormously since you agreed to help us. I haven’t felt this great in… well ever! Thank you little witch!”

“I’m not little, but thank you for saying so.” You were starting to get a bit lightheaded now, and not from the dancing. It was possible that some of the symptoms of mana sickness were surfacing a little late.

“You are strong! That is true! Even elder Bisou has said he hasn’t met a human or beastman with mana like yours!” Haven turned his voice down to a whisper, as if he was sharing a secret, “Your magic smells so much like flowers, really, its a huge blessing! In fact, I would eat you up if I could!” He laughed as if he had made a joke. He sighed and looked up dreamily at the sky. “Alas, I am saving myself for when we find our queen.” He wrapped his arms around himself, as if to fend off imaginary suitors.

You wrinkled your nose. “Queen? You don’t have a queen? Isn’t that super bad for bees, I mean bee-men?” 

Heaven tilted his head at you, reminding you of Lyith. 

“Of course. That's why we are all so small and weak.” You stared at him in shock. He put up his hands. “We are doing well though! It's been 20 years since our queen died but we are still here! Oh! There is a hive up north! Any day now, one of their queens' daughters might descend and bless us! Or.. Or we--”

“Little One! You seem like you're getting sick!” Rena Descended from above and put a hand to your forehead.

“You are far too warm! Haven, mind if I take her out of your wings?”

Heaven looked up at Rena, his face a mask of confusion. He eventually gave in though and stood up.

“I should check on Elder Bisou! He might need something!” His voice was flat, obviously fake, but he ran away- flew away with gusto.

Rena took your face into her hands, tilting your head back and forth. Your lightheadedness turned full on dizzy. Rena’s face screwed up in an annoyed expression.

“You overdid it. And after that whole speech about not knowing your limits too..” She gently put a hand on your back and picked you up princess style. You would have been embarrassed, if your brain was functioning properly. Instead your gaze fixed on Rena’s beautiful iridescent wings. The lights were so lovely and they helped ground you. Honestly, everything about Rena was lovely. Well, maybe lovely wasn’t the right word. She was rough around the edges. A tease and a know it all. But she doted on you so, it made you feel a bit overwhelmed. Your gaze shifted from her wings to her lovely nose, pretty sharp for a bee-men. 

Rena started conversing with Lyith about you, pointing her jaw and humming. Huh. Rena was actually incredibly attractive. You had known that before. Maybe it was something about how dizzy everything was. The last time you had felt this way she had been kissing you, her textured tongue pushing nectar down your thoat-

“Little One”

Your mind immediately focused. She was using a demanding tone. 

“Lyith will take you home. Next time, we will only do one spell at a time.” She leaned forward and placed her cool lips to the side of your mouth. Making you blush. Well your face was already heated so you would have blushed. “I will see you again soon. Rest.” And she was off.

You were in Lyith’s arms again. A place you were starting to get comfortable in. He stared at you for a moment, his lips pursed, then sighed loudly. He held your gaze for a moment.

“I do not like this habit you are forming. You will not get sick again, understand?” 

You nodded at him, mind hazy. Sleepy. You were sleepy. 

You didn’t register the fly home, only that the coolness felt nice. You were carried from the porch, into the living room, up the stairs, and laid on your bed. You were covered in warm, delicious blankets. 

You never saw Lyith leave before you passed out. Probably because he tucked himself in right beside you, the cool air washing over both of you from the open bedroom window.

Part Four

[ariaste]

My god, IWTV fandom has some of the worst comments-to-hits ratios on fics I've ever seen. I've got two chapters of this fic I posted, 1600 hits, and 52 comments. In other words, only 3% of readers left a comment, and that's with me being a DAMN good writer. I just looked up the most kudos'd fic in the whole fandom, and this poor fucking writer has ~27,000 hits, ~2700 kudos (10% kudos-to-hits is a normal and expected standard for a Good Fic) but 80 comments. 0.3% of readers left a comment. The second most-kudos'd fic is an outlier with 50 chapters, so we're setting that one aside, but number three has 15k hits and 112 comments, which is 0.7%. wtf wtf wtf. My 3% is considered doing really well? WTF WTF WTF.

(For a control group so that we all have a sense of perspective, let's compare this to my most recent fic in the Nine Worlds fandom, which has ~2800 hits and 237 comments (8.5%), or one of my most popular fics in the Untamed fandom, which has ~63,000 hits and 1082 comments (just shy of 7%).)

Now here's the thing. I'm confident enough in my abilities as a writer to brush this off and go about my day, but not everyone is. A LOT of people out there are writing fics because they want to connect with other fans and share something they love, so posting a fic and getting near-total radio silence can feel really disheartening. If you liked the fic enough to leave kudos, take two extra seconds to comment. It doesn't have to be complicated or long! Even just "Loved this, so fun!" or "Kudos!" or "Thanks for sharing!" is GREAT.

Commenting on fics is part of a healthy fandom ecosystem. Fic authors who get a lot of positive comments are very often encouraged and energized to write more of that thing you like. You are directly contributing to your own happiness by commenting.

And listen, I hear people worrying that it's going to be annoying or bad if they leave impersonal "bland" comments, so let me preempt that: No, it is not annoying. I once had someone leave the same boilerplate comment ("Thanks for writing, I really liked this" or something along those lines) on every chapter of a fic that she binged in one sitting so I saw them all in a row. My reaction was, "Oh yay, I'm so glad she liked it <3 And how kind of her to comment on every chapter!!!"

We have a GREAT show -- IWTV fans Never Stop Winning, right? ...Except when it comes to fic comments. So just consider being the change you wish to see in the world, ok? Two extra seconds of your day to feed and water your local fic authors and to carry that "we never stop winning" and "oh we are SO back" energy through the hiatus until s3. <3

[my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction]

Out of curiosity, how would (insert character of tour choice here!) react to being asked to kill a giant bug because reader is WAY too scared to do it themself?

Heehee, ahh this is so fun! (I'm sorry, I chose everyone basically. Also I'm a big softie for insects, and pretty much everyone is just taking them outside.)

oscar isaac charcters x GN!Reader • Rating: PG •Masterlist• ao3• want to be tagged? | requestinfo• ko-fi •

Warnings: bugs, bug death

Word Count: 681

_____________________________________

Steven: Will NOT be killing the bug, he will be putting a cup/glass/bowl over it and putting it safely outside.

Marc: Literally just grabs it with his hands and puts it outside, usually via the window if he can't be bothered to put his shoes on.

Jake: Will very seriously pretend to get out his gun to shoot the offending insect until you laugh. 

Nathan: Rolls his eyes and says "bugs are important for the ecosystem” and “the only bugs I deal with are computer ones." He has a robot to sort out real-life insects that get in the house for him. (He will never admit it but he doesn't want to touch the bug, even through the barrier of a glass.)

Anselm: His third cousin twice removed has the job title of 'insect remover'.

Cecil: Tries to get the bug in a glass, accidentally puts the cup down too quickly and cuts it in half with the rim. Has a complete breakdown over it that you will need to console him for for the next three hours. 

Club!Blue: He'll make you do it yourself, and watch you while you do it.

Orderly!Blue: Please do not ask him because not only is he gonna catch the bug, but he's gonna put it on you in some kind of twisted aversion therapy. 

Jack: He's... he's eaten the bug.

Santiago: Will carry you out of the room before he removes the offending insect for your well-being (it doesn't matter how much you weigh). Will ignore when you say carrying you isn't good for his knees, will kiss your cheeks and forehead repeatedly.

Shimmer!Kane: Will just look at you a little confused for a minute or two. Then he'll look at the bug, somehow the bug just walks out of the house straight away seemingly of its own volition. 

King John: He's not gonna do fuck all about the bug. But he will kiss you and pull you into his lap until you've completely forgotten about the bug. 

Rydal: He's gonna tease the hell out of you, 'why can't you deal with the bug?' Then he sees the insect himself and is like, 'oh no, no no.' You both have to sort out this problem together, basically attached to the hip the whole time. 

Laurent: He's going to shoo the bug away and out this a large paintbrush. And then grin like a little shit when he's done it. Will expect kisses as a reward.

Poe: Does it without thinking, just gets the bug and takes it outside if it's not gonna be a threat to either of you. Doesn't even realise it's a big deal until after you hug him as a thank you. 

William: There is never a bug for you to ask him to get rid of, he's made sure the place is insect free already. 

Miguel: Miguel-what have you got against bugs?-O'Hara. Will stay completely deadpan until you get flustered and then will crack a cheeky smile. 

Bud: He's already swatted it with his newspaper before you even have to ask.

Richard: Doesn't want to hurt the bug if it's not dangerous and will take it outside for you. Will also get his dog to 'patrol' around the house for you to keep you safe and protected from any other insects that try to encroach. 

Robbie: Is so happy to be helpful, and just wants to make sure you're content and feeling safe.

Jonathan: Is so used to taking bugs out of his daughter's room that he'll do it without a second thought.

Leto: Will chuckle and tease you a little about it, but he likes that you asked him and he also likes that he can do this for you.

Basil: You're gonna have to save him from the bug, I'm afraid.

Abel: Thoroughly amused that you ask him to, won't make a big deal out of it but likes that he can sort this out of you. Makes him feel wanted. 

_________________

Thank you for reading!

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If you'd like to be taken off the tag list please let me know here

[kombuuuu]

gwen romantic hcs or scenario please? 🥺🤲

Spidery Romance.

Gwen Stacy x Fem!Reader

another bunch of headcanons (and snippets, ur favs) with my favourite girl 🤍

GWENNBBBBB MMMWMAH HHHNG WEBEWEBWEEEHHHH

Gwen: Blue

You: Pink

Dad Stacy: Black

A cat..: Purple

mom friend this, mom friend that

how about just mommy?

is a HUGEE comfort roll in the realtionship

will do little things for you that you wouldn’t even realise

like keeping random containers because she knows you like them

jars 🫙 🤍‼️

she loves taking care of you, loves being who you go to for things

it makes her feel needed, which we know she struggles with

so she loves a partner who’s more co-dependent, like she is

“Baby?”

“Help.”

“Honey, what am I supposed to do with that?”

“Open it, please“ :(

“Oh, you sweet thing… What are you going to do with an empty pickle jar.”

“You’ve eaten all the pickles?”

“I’m… going to grow an ecosystem.”

ABSOLUTELY steals shit for you

she’s not rich, seeing as she doesn’t exacccctly live in her own universe

hey, star crossed lovers are multiversel..

so she steals

just nicks things from the mall she thinks you’ll like

little trinkets or anything small and shiny she can find

also cat figures

small, cute cats. she loves anything about them and will go out of her way to take em for you

(you think she just wants to deny the fact she loves the cats. or stealing)

your OWN little klepto cat

(you both love that game)

“Hey, Sweets.”

“Oh-! You’re home!”

“And I brought a cat.”

*gasp* “What breed !!”

“No clue, but look it’s tail moves.”

Will take you out to movie dates any time she can.

never really knew how to treat a lady so she takes notes from stupid eighties shows

will throw rocks at your window

or climb up the tree next to your house and break in even though she could just go thru the front door.

buys (steals) chocolates in heart shapes and roses to decorate your bed

it’s not even valentines she just wants too

don’t forget the candles and scented bath salts with a whole ass spa set up in your bathroom

“Baby? Wh—“

“[Name]! I missed you.”

“I missed you too, babe.”

“What are the flowers for?”

“Our anniversary’s not ‘til September.”

“Beautiful, we don’ need a reason. Just wanna appreciate you.”

smile and giggle like a little bitch? of course you will

Will eventually tell you about her spider woman endeavours

she’s guilty of hiding it from you

when you trust her so much

slipping out of your shared bed at night to go patrol feels

dirty.

She finally caved to her subconscious and spills it

you don’t freak out on her but she can tell you’re stressed

she tries to comfort you even when you have to opportunity to ruin her life

you could end it between the two of u right then and she’d forgive you

but not herself

“I’m spider-woman.”

“What?”

“The hero, [Name]. Well, vigilante I guess—“

“What the hell.”

“Baby, please. I know I should’ve told you sooner—“

“Do you know how much danger you’re in? Are you crazy? What happens if you get hurt and I’m not here? Fighting crime like that. Fighting villains.”

“I know, sweet girl, I know.”

she comforts you through it while you basically have an existential crisis in her name

you’re more scared she’s going to get hurt

or worse

than you are betrayed,

you can get why she kept this a secret

it takes you a couple week to hone down the worrying

gwen is hella patient with you 🫶

“I don’t like this. You’re putting yourself in harms way, and it’s careless,”

Guilty stare

“,But i’m not gonna stop you.”

“Thank you, [Name].”

“Please don’t die on me.”

“I won’t, baby.”

and when your finally calm you can kind of see the appeal in it

she convinces you to let her swing you around the city

and despite you both knowing you’re probably gonna pass the fuck out

you agree cause it’s cute

“Gwen.”

“Yeah baby?”

“I think—, maybe you don’t understand what I mean by ‘I don’t like heights’.”

“Wh— Oh.”

“What d’yu mean ‘Oh.’?!! You only just realised??”

“I come up here so often, it’s like a second thought!”

“It’s the fucking Empire state!”

“Ehh…”

She’ll take you nice places around brooklyn

mostly high up

to let you see the view

and to finally see you in it

she draws you any chance she gets

especially when she takes you to those places

shes been to em so often that she’s got muscle memory for the line to every building, but now she gets to trace the contour of your face around it too

will web you to the building if you ask

just so you won’t fall

“You know there’s not a single universe where I wouldn’t catch you, right.”

“There’s a first for everything,”

She snorts “Sugar—“

“I love you, Gwen. And trust you with my life. I do not, however trust wind.”

“Understandable, love you too.”

When you meet her dad he’s a little skeptical at first

only because you’re so nervous and he’s taught to be suspicious as a cop

but eventually he likes you, and you him

your both like old pals and it confuses gwen

he takes on a very fatherly position in your life

one you missed out on

gwen is ecstatic

the two people she loves the most in the world like each other

the stars aligned for her

she tells you about her struggles with him and is glad it doesn’t affect either of your relationships

“Do you treat my daughter well?”

“Dad, please.”

“Gwen, it’s okay. I’d like to think I am, sir.”

“Cause if you hurt my little girl, everything you do to her will feel a lot worse for you.”

“Dad!”

“I would never hurt your daughter Mr.Stacy, I love her. It’d be stupid of me to let her go.”

He smiled and clapped your back

*groan* “Why.”

she likes to keep you comfy

kinda has a thing for the housewife vibe

so she’s willing to do a lot for you

she’ll notice how empty it is in your house when she’s not there

it’s quiet and lonely

so totally for you (and not also her)

she’ll get you a cat

a small black american bobtail

she had found him while on patrol

saw a box left littered at the park and decided to pick it up

closer she got, more ‘mews’ she heard.

when she saw a short, stumpy looking kitten in the box

her heart melted

so obviously she took it

“For [Name].”

‘mew :3’

“Co-parenting practice.”

‘mmrp’

“God damn it.”

loves the cat with her whole heart

and so do you

you name it Peter

he’s adopted but he doesn’t need to know that

when he does something bad you threaten (emptily) to put him in back out in the street

“Go get a box, Peter. I’m gonna make your momma put you back where she found you.”

“He can’t understand you, baby.”

“Yes he can, look at how he’s looking at me!”

“See his face!? He’s so mocking me!”

:3

“Sure, baby.”

—

EEE 🤭🤭🤭

[yeyinde]

WILLOW TREE MARCH

John Price x Reader | Fae!AU

"They'll give you gifts," your gran says, shaking her head. "Things from their realm. Little trinkets and gems—" geodes, sapphires and diamonds, raw gold and coral; "—and you must never accept them," a whittled deer made of sequoia under your pillow; crow bones buried in the garden."Because if you do, if you do, they'll never let you go."  "Why?" You asked, blinking at her.  "Because it's a courting ritual, and to accept means… well," her mouth twists in wry disdain. "Just don't." 

—WARNINGS: 18+ | SMUT fae shenanigans, mythological nonsense; unsafe sex, smut in random places, slight exhibition kink if you squint; Dom-ish Price, soft Price, pining Price; fae trickery (dubious consent on account of the trickery but not really); unreliable narrator; ahhhhhh, body horror (??????????) —TAGS: Fluff, AU, mythology —WORD COUNT: 8,5k —Based on this ask

There's a thick forest at the edge of your town. It curves along the coastline, breaching the yawning maw of the inlet—the last safe haven before the open ocean—and can be found almost nowhere else in the entire world. A unique ecosystem comprising vaguely familiar flora and fauna. Brown and Black bears. Wolves. Sitka-black-tailed deer. Ravens. The waters that crest through the forest are full of salmon, steelhead, and river otters. On the coast of the inlet, you can find whales, sea lions, seals, orcas, and porpoises swimming offshore. 

It's protected, in large part, by its sheer vastitude. Spanning a massive chunk of your home, it stretches far north with curling fingers cutting through the granite of the crumbling coast, and as deep south as its knobby knees can reach. 

From above, it looks like a child curled on its side, knees tucked to its chest. It's this pose alone that makes others revere it as some sacred being, slumbering mindlessly until the day it cracks open its eyes, and awakens to the new world. A child god made of conifers, red cedar, spruce, fir, pine, birch, and hemlock. Mossy caves of granite and limestone. Thick colonies of moss, liverworts, plume moss, and common haircap. 

The forest is linked to your town only by a small strip of land that juts out from a raging ravine with currents too dangerous, too deadly, to try and traverse. An archipelago all on its own, untouched by greedy, human, hands because of its placement. 

It's insulated by the vast ocean on its front, and a series of insidious looking mountains ready to swallow wandering mountaineers whole if they get too close to the sleeping child. Protected and safe by anyone who might try to harm it. 

You used to dream about the forest. A nightmare dredged up about whispers and calls. Lured close to the edge of the river where a man would hand you his heart—sap-stained, and charred; a brittle piece of Bristlecone pine that felt fragile and worn—and told you to come back for him. To wait for him. 

You'd wake in a cold sweat each time, heart pounding so fast that it almost felt like you were dying.

(Maybe you were. Maybe you did.)

You don't know if you believe the stories told about people wandering into the gaping chasm of the forest and never coming out. It's not uncommon for people to get lost, after all. But it feels distinct and archaic. Old. Something about the way the wind howls sounds different from the other woodlands scattered around your home. 

It sounds like a beckoning call. A mother calling their child home for dinner. Come to me, the Chinook bellows. Come home now, dear. 

You never venture too close. You know all too well what happens to children who do.

His name is—was now, you suppose—Kyle, but no one called him that. To everyone in town, he was simply known as Gaz. 

Newcomers to the isolated archipelago are a rarity—so much so that news of the new family's arrival sent waves through the community, making Gaz an instant star overnight, all without him even setting foot on the shores. 

None of that mattered, though. He fit in with an ease that seems almost preternatural when you think about it, as if he was meant to be there. And maybe he was. Maybe the soft rolling valleys were destined to be his home where flowers bloomed in the spring, and Arctic tern trilled from the branches. 

Gaz was unique, different. 

He picked dandelions with the same intensity that picked fights with the bullies in the neighbouring town, the ones who tried to pick on the smaller kids in the community. 

With his fists always covered in dandelion oil and bruises, face caught between a grimace and a grin, like he was never sure if he wanted to spit at their feet or tell a joke, he stood against the onslaught with an anger that seemed to crackle in the air like fireworks. Ready for battle. Thirsty for blood. 

His anger never waned even when he turned back to the group, eyes cresting in satisfaction, and body trembling with adrenaline, and you could scent the rage in his smile, hear it in the soft words he muttered to the kids, telling them everything would be alright. 

Gaz was everyone's friend. The person you told your deepest secrets to, the one you planned adventures with. He was a rock—always armed with snappy jokes to make you smile, and advice when you needed it. 

He was everyone's friend—yours especially—but you can't remember if anyone was his best friend. He was polite. Distant. 

It started in the summer. His hands were always cold, and he kept them shoved deep in his pockets, clenched tight around the latchkey his parents gave him. 

He started to seem almost liquid then. Temporal. You'd reach for him, brushing your hands against his arms or shoulders just to assure yourself that he was really there.

You noticed that his eyes would list sideways, head tilted, slanting toward the forest. It looked to you as if he was listening to something. To some unheard noise or call that only he could hear. 

When you asked about it, he'd always blink, surprised, as if you'd woken him up from a dream quite suddenly. Then, he'd smile, and shake his head. 

"Don't worry about it," he'd say, shrugging. "Just the wind."

He'd bend down and pick a dandelion for you, holding it out between pudgy fingers with a grin that seemed to mimic the cresting moon. 

"For you."

He picked them for three springs before he, too, became another victim of the endless forest. Another empty tomb in the overcrowded graveyard.

Missing, they said, but not forgotten. 

You think about him often. 

(Even more so when you, too, begin to hear your name echoing through the forest.)

Beware the woods, your grandma says. Especially when it calls your name. 

(You never understood why something that sounds so comforting, so sweet, could ever be dangerous. It sounds like an old friend calling you over to play. 

"Never go," she snaps, her hands lashing out to grip your arms tight. You feel her knobby fingers digging into your bones. "Never listen, and stay away—"

"You're hurting me, gran—"

Her rheumy eyes burn into yours. "Stay away—!"

(You wisely never speak about the whispers in your head, keeping them to yourself. A secret just for you.)

You leave town when you're old enough, when the hisses in your head grow too loud to ignore, and it feels as though they're scratching at your skull. 

(Clawing at the walls.)

"Crazy weather, eh?" The first mate mutters nervously, eyes tilted upward as the sky darkens into an angry grey. "Came outta nowhere." 

You leave, and you don't look back. 

(But oh, how the forest screams.)

She calls you back several years later with a phone call. Your gran has passed. 

You think you should mourn, but it's been so long since you thought of home, that you don't remember what she looks like anymore. The sound of her voice is a whisper in your head—the cadence gone, the tone flat. 

But you don't cry, and you don't grieve—she's been dead for a long time now, after all. Ever since your mum went missing all those years ago, she's always seemed more of a ghost than a person. Living as if her body hadn't realised her heart was long dead. 

You go back only because you think your mum would have wanted you to. 

(And pretend it isn't because the silence in your head is suffocating. Without the whispers, it feels as if you're missing something. A part of yourself forever lost in the forest.

You wonder if anyone has found it by now.)

Nothing has changed since you turned your back on the town that raised you, the forest that stole from you. 

It's the same buildings. The same market. The same roads. The same houses. 

The people, too, seem largely unchanged by the years that have passed. 

The friends from your childhood who stayed meet you at the graveyard, eyes filled with sympathy as they ask how you're doing. 

She'll be missed, they lie sweetly to you. Everyone loved her. 

She was a hermit, you want to scream. A woman driven mad by ghosts and fairytales and terror. 

You nod, instead, and let them lead you around the town on a grand tour as if anything about this beautiful, haunting place had changed since you ran away. 

It gets easier to force a smile when they ask if you're okay. 

"Fine," you murmur and wonder if your voice even carries over the whispers. "Just—yeah. Fine."

North of the town is where the river separating the lonely forest carves a path, not at all dissimilar to an idyllic trough, through bedrock and sand, and flows into the sea. 

The estuary is dangerous in high tide when the rapid ascent of water on the sandy shores hides the rip current that is known to form when the two bodies of water meet. 

It's a dangerous place to get caught in. 

This beach was impressed upon you as deadly from a young age, almost in equal—if not greater—measure than the rapacious forest across the river. You know the dangers of standing on the slippery bedrock. 

But as the sun glows a burnt orange in the distance, and the endless ocean before you darkens into an almost unfathomable black, you can't help but find the view from the cliff's edge to be the most mesmerising thing you've ever seen. 

It looks like a painting. A brush stroke of tigers eye in the centre of the cresting sun that gradually fades out into xanthous, and rings of hazy peach; the light of diminishing star smears coruscating rings of persimmons into the indigo water. The gradual fade into gradients as the waves lap closer to the shore is reminiscent of liquid sapphire and smelting amethyst. 

The picturesque view is more befitting of a pastel postcard, an ethereal pastiche of the Ninth Wave—a moment of life imitating art, or—perhaps—the same view Ivan Aivazovsky stumbled upon when he set out to render the haunting beauty of the ocean in oil. 

The cresting waves arch into curled petals of white before setting upon the sloping beach with frenzy. It's the roar of those hungry waves that seem to, if only for a moment, drown out everything in your head. 

There are no whispers. No songs. No screams. Vengeful hissing can't climb to a higher decibel than the frothing waters slamming against jagged bedrock. 

All is quiet—except the sea. 

You lean into it. The closer you get to that precipice, the quieter everything in your head goes. Sounded sucked into the vacuum of the ocean. The endless song of the sea. 

Another step. Another. 

For a moment, you're free. 

The forest doesn't scream for you. Your grandmother doesn't dig her teeth into your gyri, hands clawing at the space behind your eyes. You don't think of her, or your mother, or Gaz, or anyone else unfortunate enough to get consumed by this damnable place where fairy tales split the seams apart, and merge with reality. 

It's peaceful. 

You take another step—

A hand curls over your shoulder, tugging you back. 

Anger pools, thick and acidic, on your tongue, but the flash of your ire, your vexation, is dashed by the sound the waves make when it slams into the spot you were just standing. 

It slashes across the concrete as the stranger pulls you into his broad chest, heat nearly liquifying your spine. 

He sucks in a breath. You feel his chest expand with it. When he breathes out, you taste gunpowder on your tongue. 

"Gotta be more careful n'that, love." 

You've had near-misses before. Flirted with the reaper. Ripped yourself from the jowls of death himself. 

This isn't anything new.

And yet—

Your eyes drag up, meeting flat black boring down at you. His hood is pulled over his forehead, casting shadows down to his jaw. 

"You—"

Your teeth sink into your tongue. Emotions lash through you like the flick of a bullwhip, shredding your skin until it's raw and oozing. The tail pulls away whenever you try to wrap your fingers around one of them—relief: you're not dead; embarrassment: how could you be so stupid; shame: saved by a stranger; and—

Visceral terror. Panic. 

It bludgeons its fist down your throat, barbed knuckles clawing at the soft tissue of your esophagus until you taste blood on your tongue. 

Panic tastes of ozone and leaks, thick and warm like molasse, down your throat. 

"Hey," he murmurs, and the sound of his voice, his low timbre, is porous, calcined. The rough scratch scours through the haze of fear threading through your sternum. "C'mon on, now. Gotta breathe, yeah?" 

It's his hands on your shoulder—hotter than grenade fire—and the thick scent of musk, of stale smoke and kerosene sweat, that break through the gossamer of your acrid panic. He spins you around to face him, eyes fixed on your face. 

"That's it," he says, soft, soothing. "Keep breathin'. You ain't dead yet." 

You come to yourself in pieces. The world bleeds with startling clarity around the blurred edges. Home, you think. Maybe.

Once upon a time. 

You blink. Blink again. 

The hand still on you—heavier, you find, than an anvil—lifts, his thumb brushing over the curve of your jaw, swiping over the sweat-stained skin.

You can't see his eyes through the shadows cast over his face. A stranger. You've never seen him before. 

They didn't say anyone new moved to town. 

"Who are you—?"

"You don't know?" 

And then his hand is gone, taking all the heat in your body with him. 

It lifts to his vest, thick fingers, gloved in yellow, curling over the butt of his cigar. 

You must make a face. A grimace. A whisper of bemusement. Whatever it is, it makes his lips twitch under the shorn burnt umber of his beard. 

"I'd share," he mutters, teething sinking into the hilt as he pats himself down for a lighter. "But I ain't got the time."

"Shouldn't be smoking in a provincial park, anyway." 

The words are dragged out of you. Numbed, gritty. 

It makes him snort. "Maybe—;" he cups his hand around the end, thumb striking the ignition of the lighter. He inhales, and the red circle at the tip illuminates the cerulean blue tucked away into the folds of his hood. The plume of smoke curls over him like a shroud. "But I doubt a cigar is gonna bring the whole forest down, mm? 'sides, we all have our vices, don't we?"

With that, he leaves you standing in the tendrils of smoke that billow out from his caustic mouth. No goodbye. No name. Nothing except the hum of his touch buzzing through your veins. 

Your head is numb. Thoughts congealing into hardened clay. 

Yeah, you think sluggishly, eyes dropping to the drenched pavement where the ocean narrowly missed you. Swallowed you whole. We do. 

(Yours is bad decisions that reek of napalm. 

Men who scour your hands raw when you touch their coarse surface.)

You find him again in some desolate pub on the fringes of town a few days later. It looks like it's one strong gust of wind away from blowing down. Dilapidated. Rusted from the harsh salt of the ocean to the north. 

He lifts his head when you slide into the empty chair on the left, but says nothing about your unexpected company. 

Instead, his lips curl over the cigar sawed between his teeth. A grin, you think. 

You wonder if he was expecting you. 

(Wonder, then, with a touch of something warm gnarling in your belly, if you surprised him.)

The barkeep wanders past, brows lifting at you in question. 

"Um, a vodka soda—"

The man, Price you learned from the locals with a great of digging, snorts. 

"Ain't got none of that here, love. Two scotches. Neat." He leans over, thick fingers grasping the middle of the cigar, an inch away from the bristles on his upper lip, and pulls it away, ashing it in the tray in front of him. "And a bottle of spring water." 

"Scotch?" You echo, leaning your elbow on the sticky counter. He reeks of smoke. Sweat. Blood. Gunpowder. You veer closer, soaking in the astringent tang of him. Everyone on this island smells of daffodils and cotton; clean and neat and innocent. He reeks of danger. Everything inside of you screams to stay away. "I don't drink scotch."

The cigar burns in the tray. He pulls back, shifting in the chair. His elbow rests on the counter, the other arm is slung over the back of his seat. The picture of appeasement, of a satiated tiger eying a little mouse sniffing past it. There's no immediate danger, and his posture is relaxed. Open. But his eyes—

Price turns to you, then. His legs are spread, knees notched apart, taking up more space than you offer him. A looming presence. Dominating. Confident. He's not doing it on purpose, you don't think, he's just—

Big. 

His legs are too long. Thighs are too thick. 

Something gnarls behind your ribs when you take in his bare face. It's different, smaller, without the bulky black hood thrown low on his brow. His hands bare, leaving him in only casual clothes that stretch taut around his broad body. 

The beanie on his head, pulled low on his forehead, makes him look roguish, rough. The picturesque presentation of a bad boy down to the pelt-brown leather Levi jacket stretched taut around his broad shoulders. 

He looks older, somehow, without the tenebrous of night shading him in dark indigo. Aged like a fine whisky. All burnt umber and ivory. 

The charcoal colouring brightens the heavy blue of his eyes—crushed bluebonnets and powdered graphite; a black hole centre—and the frame of his brown lashes dusting over his clean cheeks makes something pool in your lower belly. 

(You wonder if he'd taste of whisky sour.)

"Well," he murmurs, brow lifting. It makes the skin on his forehead crinkle. He has laugh lines cresting around the corners of his eyes. They stand out to you, now. Void of the shadows you're used to. "You do when I'm paying."

The scotch, the cigar, the dingy pub that reeks of stale cigarettes and is perfumed in a dusting of nicotine that films every surface coalesces into incipient vice. 

His hand moves from where it's loosely curled around his glass, and rests, heavy and warm, on your thigh. 

When he leans in, you taste calcine on his breath. 

The acrid tang is a balm to the blisters in your raw esophagus. You meet him in the middle, smaller hands curling over the wool lapels of his jacket, tugging him into you. 

"Never thanked you for saving me," you murmur, his beard grazing your lips. A tickle. A brush. 

Price sucks in a deep breath, eyes liquifying into an intense azure. "No need to thank me, love. As much as I love the ocean, you don't belong there, do you? No," he adds, decisively. Sure. "You belong on land. The earth. You're wild, like the forest, aren't you?"

It's an out. An escape. An option to flee from the cosm that folds around you like a nebulous cloud. 

You could take it. Back up, away. Walk out of this dingy pub on the wrong side of town, and forget the man who reeks of nicotine, smoke; who leaves ashes behind on your skin when he touches you. 

The only one who stares at you from the unfathomable black of his eyes, lashes shrouded in tenebrous, and makes you falter. Makes your heart lurch, jumping to sit at the bottom of your throat.

You should pull away. Stay away from the man who leaks ethanol and nitroglycerine. From the man who smells of acrid smoke. Gunfire. 

You should. 

But your fingers tighten in the lapels of his jacket, pulling him closer. Closer. 

The bridge of his nose is warm when it presses against your own. 

His eyes spark, wildfires. A blazing forest. 

"You said something about vices." His chest rumbles in response to your hushed words. 

"So I did." 

Smoke singes your nose when you brush your lips over his. Warm. Chapped. Dry. You taste ash. Humus. The bitter tang of dandelion oil. 

"Got some time tonight?" 

"Thought you said I shouldn't be smoking."

"We're not in a park, near flammable trees," your hand falls to his chest. His heart thuds beneath your palm. Thick, full. Your eyes lift to his, lidded and heavy. You gaze at him from under your lashes, coy. Demure. You wonder if he can see how eager you are beneath the sly cut of your lids. "Are we, Price?"

The use of his name makes his lips quirk. A small, secretive thing that you can't read. 

"No, we're not." His hand slides down, curling over your knee. "Don't know what you're gettin' into, love." 

"Oh, no?" You taunt, breathless. Even through all your layers, you still feel his searing heat on your skin. His eyes drop when your tongue lashes out, wetting your lower lip. "And what's that?" 

A frisson shudders over his face. Lashes fluttering. He leans forward, resting the rim of his beanie on your forehead. 

When his eyes slide open, all you see is arsenic white pooled around Prussian blue. "More than you could ever dream of." 

Your trembling fingers curl into the lapels of his jacket. For leverage, maybe; or to hide the quiver in your joints from his widening eyes. 

And so, you kiss him. 

A messy punch to the mouth with your sun-blistered lips. 

His mouth parts, wry curls flutter when he inhales sharply. And then—

He devours you. 

It's messy. More sealed lips glueing together than it ever could be considered a proper kiss, but it feels more like a homecoming than stepping off the boat, and you tuck that inside your pounding chest. 

(The whispers in your head seem to sing when his lips touch yours.)

You taste bark on your tongue when it slips over his. Loam. Moss. Something earthy and rich. His beard scratches your chin, your lips, but you pull him closer, hungry for more—for the taste of wilderness on his tongue, for the respite from the whispers, the screams. Like the ocean, he, too, is a vacuum, swallowing everything whole until just you remain, stripped down to nothing but sensation and want. Bare, raw. 

Your teeth ache when you pull away, fingers curling into the coarse hair along his chin. The whips of his wry curls scratch your palm. 

You never want to let go. 

Price's eyes are noctilucent clouds; a storm over a rainforest. He'll ruin you. Devour. Destroy. Take, and take, and take until there is nothing left. 

Your lips tremble when you speak, words tremulous with your desire, your eagerness, when they slip past your bruised mouth. 

"I can think of a few that are better than smoking." 

Price shudders. 

"Where did you go?" Your friend asks, eyes swinging from the cards spread out in front of him—the Idiot, Solitaire—to you. They burn into the side of your face, the same place Price touched with bare knuckles, and said you belong to the forest, don't you? "Missed dinner."

You ate Doro Wat in a small shop after Price fucked you stupid in the dingy bathroom of the pub, face scraping against the waterlogged wallpaper that chipped with each brutal thrust of his hips. 

Like that, hmm? Can barely take me, love, but you're so fuckin' greedy for it, ain't you? 

You're sure the barkeep heard your moans as they bounced off the jaundiced walls. 

(You still hear him hissing in your ear. Still feel him splitting you apart.)

You try not to shiver. 

"Ate already," you shrug, bundling your sleep clothes tight in your trembling hands. When you stand, his eyes follow you. "So. Um—"

"You okay?" 

"Yeah," you say, shifting on the balls of your feet. "I've—" You think of his eyes, gyre white, and wonder if this is what it feels like to get swallowed by the sea. "I've never been better."

"Good," he says, smiling. "I worry about you, you know?"

You nod. "Yeah," you say. "Me, too."

You break apart in the shower, falling into pieces as you make yourself finish, thinking about nothing but the phantom stretch of his cock seated deep inside of you, the taste of his come pooling on your tongue.

It balms the residual burn in your esophagus, and you know, then, when you throb, still wanting his touch on your skin, that you've always been terrible at telling yourself no. 

It can't happen. It can't.  

There's a strange magnetism about him—an uncanny sense of mystery and familiarity sutured together. 

It feels a little bit like staring at the looming maw, the event horizon, of a black hole. Unfathomable black. No way out. 

There's something that feels a bit like forewarning inside your chest when he brushes against you, and presses his lips on the skin behind your ear—a secret place only he knows, where only his fingerprints have ever been. You feel his touch even when he's gone. Haunted by the memory of his rough hands and rasping tenor. 

Running would make sense, you think, watching the ferries come and go. You have enough money for a ticket, and you've yet to even unpack your bag. 

You don't know who he is, but you've given him everything. All of it. There's nothing left inside of you to hand over, but he keeps looking at you as if he's waiting for more. 

"Waiting for a ride?" 

You glance back at the operator with a divot between your brow and cotton inside your ears. 

You want to say yes, but you shake your head instead. 

"No." I can't leave. "Just enjoying the view."

You find birch branches stripped of leaves, juniper berries, maple leaves, spindles of dogwood, bushels of fir, and bouquets of bog rosemary, northern bluebell, fireweed, and wintergreen on your doorstep each morning, laid gently against the old welcome mat. 

You should toss them out, and throw them away. How does he know where you live, anyway? It would make the most sense; be the wisest decision. 

Instead, you tuck them inside your notebook, pressing them against the pages where they'll be safe. 

(You try not to think too much about why they never die.)

It happens again. And again. Again—

It becomes a ritual for the few months you're back in town. The leaves, twigs, petals, pines, and seeds all show up at your door each morning and come nightfall, you're drawn to him like a moth to a flame. 

He finds the nastiest looking pub in the city, and you find him there after dark. 

He sits, smokes a cigar. Orders two scotches, and a bottle of spring water. Teaches you how to drink it properly—none of that sugary cocktail shite; just pure whisky, love, as it should be—and lets you puff on the damp end of his cigar, eyes gleaming in the soft yellow light above as he takes in the way your lips curl over the wet tip.

He stares at you like he's indulging you. 

Like he knows. 

And maybe, he does. 

Maybe he sees the way your jaw works, tongue lashing over the tip just to chase his taste. The heat in your cheeks, your eyes, as you gaze at him, open and raw and wanting. The way you list toward him. Eager for it. For him. His touch, his smell. 

He must, you think, but he's a right bastard. 

He doesn't give it until the end of the evening, when everyone has gone home. When it's just you and him and the barkeep that glowers at you something ugly when you stand on shaky legs, and whisper you're going to the washroom. 

Your fingers curl over the chipped porcelain, back arched as you stare at the face in the mirror. 

You can't remember if it's you. 

Whisky has polluted your synapses. The thick scent of smoke, the tobacco from the cigar, has congealed into resin over that little bundle of axons and nerves that control your impulse, logic. 

Stupid. 

You stare at the thing in the mirror, and wonder if the basal want on your face was so apparent to him as it is to you. If he saw the dark gleam of hunger, greed, impatience, swimming in your ink-smudged depths. 

The door rattles. Clicks. 

The squeak of the hinges is the only warning you get before Price is there, liquified in the doorway and clouded in smoke. 

His hand curls over the worn, peeling frame. Eyes dance with the same hunger, same want, as the ones that flicker across the surface of the mirror. 

"Couldn't wait for me, eh, love?" He breathes, his chest expands with his exhale. Scenting you, you think. You wonder if he can smell the slick pooling in your panties. The desperation brimming in your veins. "Wanted it that bad, huh?"

He moves. A mountain of a man now filling up the entirety of your gaze until all you see is him. 

You used to want to climb mountains. In training, they always warned of summit fever. Of that little part of your head that just wanted it to be over, to reach the very top of the precipice. Impatient, it couldn't wait. It made you spring up, and climb higher and higher before you were ready, prepared. 

You think of it now when your hands lift, curling over his broad shoulders. 

("Summit fever will get you killed," they say.)

"Just shut up and fuck me, Price." 

His eyes flash. "Greedy little thing, aren't you?"

You are. Painfully so. 

It etches in your ribs like a sickness, festering in your mouldering bones. Rotting you from the inside out. 

A crutch in the searing heat of skin, sweat, and sin. The feeling of him taking you apart, breaking you down into atoms and molecules that bubble in the lining of your head becomes so commonplace, so often forget who you are when you're pushed up against a wall, being filled to the brim by him.

He leaves madness behind when he goes, and the world that divides fantasy from reality begins to crack, to splinter. 

You hear his voice in your head late at night when the wind blows through the window, carrying the scent of the forest.

"Come home," he rasps in your ear. 

The scratch of his beard seems to scrape against the little thread keeping you tied down to reality. It's frayed and worn by his hands. You wonder when he'll sink his teeth in the silk, and snap the line. Untethering you from your binds.

Come home to me. Come back to where you belong—

Price takes you out to dinner three months after this—whatever it is—starts. After your house becomes more of a garden, writ with the wild remnants of the forest, after each passing day. Full of bushes, and branches. Twigs and precious gems. He gives you raw gold, and open geodes full of amethyst, and sapphire. Canopy leaves, and bark from the trees. 

He leaves a whittled deer made from the red wood of a giant sequoia, and the likeness of the little fawn makes you believe that one day, it'll come to life in your living room.

(You leave a dish of water near the doorway—just in case—and wonder if you're becoming just as mad as your gran.)

He shows up at your doorstep, the bleached antlers of a great pronghorn in his hands. It's decorated with vines and moss weaved over the ivory in intricate braids and knots that you can't even begin to unravel. You marvel at the gift as he tells you he's taking you out for dinner. 

There is no discussion. He doesn't ask, he just—

Does. 

"Found a spot," he says, arms crossed over his broad chest. The cable-knit sweater pulls, stretched taut over his bulk. "Think you'd like it."

You don't know what to say. The antlers feel heavier in your hands, and warm to the touch. You try not to shiver when you set it down beside the little fawn.

"Oh," you say, but know you've never turned him down yet. It's all—

So much. 

Your home is slowly becoming one with nature, with vines growing on the walls in great blooms of wisteria and lilac; the old floor boards under your feet shudder and creak as little saplings sprout through the cracks. You wake up at night and taste earth in your throat, feel the grass beneath your fingers. The breeze in your hair. The call of an arctic tern. 

You dream of running through the forest. Of being chased. You breathe and feel the little seeds inside of your lungs start to take root. Soon you'll bloom with dandelions.

"Okay," you say, and wonder if the madness rummaging around your head will turn into a beautiful sequoia in the end. "Let's go."

The tavern is busy on a weeknight, crowded with a swell of mainlanders who'd ventured out for a camping trip over the long weekend. 

You sit with your back straight, and listen to him talk about a hike he wants to take with you in the morning. Through the woods, he says, and you don't ask which one. You know. You know. 

(It's time. It's time.)

There are alarm bells ringing in your head, but they're drowned out by the crooning whispers. 

But the line is only frayed and worn, and despite the lure in his voice, the itch in your head to say yes, you hesitate. Falter. 

The woods are dangerous. 

You don't want to go. 

He seems to sense it. His brows knot together. 

"You want to, don't you?" 

You fiddle with your napkin and try not to meet his arsenic stare. "It's… dangerous."

"I'll keep you safe."

"It's probably time for me to leave, anyway." 

The air in the room turns frigid all at once. You think you can see white plumes of condensation when you shakily breathe out, teeth chattering. 

"Price—"

"Didn't wanna do this, love," he says, voice hushed. Barely a whisper. His eyes are lavascapes. "But you ain't givin' me much of a choice, are you?"

"What—?"

The words die on your tongue when movement flashes in the corner of your eye. A man weaves, liquid, through the mindless crowd, cutting a path like the parting red sea. 

His eyes are honeycombs. In his hand, he holds a limp dandelion. 

It takes you a moment to make out the strange man who looms in the background. A splash of colour among sfumato. 

It's Gaz.

The childish swell of his cheeks has sunken into angled, sharp bone. Slender fingers twirl the flower around, around, around—

It's hypnotic. You stare, horrified and awed—a strange amalgam of emotions that slip down your spine: worry, elation, panic, comfort—as his pink lips part into an easy, familiar grin. The cresting sun breaching the horizon. Eyes slanting in playful derision. 

He looks like he's torn between telling a joke and spitting vitriol. Making you laugh, and then making you cry. 

It buzzes in the air, electrified fingers dancing down your spine, and then just as quickly as the boy who disappeared reemerges into the land of the living, into this bastardised reality, he gives one last sharp, fanged grin, a mordant wink, and then he's gone.

He slips through the door, and without hesitating, you give chase. 

Price says nothing when you go. Or maybe he does, but you can't hear anything except the rustling of leaves in your head. 

Gaz, it whispers. Gaz, Gaz, Gaz.

(It's time for the lost little boy to come home.)

The rocks sit in a zigzag pattern through the frothing waters, a deceptive bridge that connects the valley to the coast. You feel the tremulous rattle of the water slicing against the hollow cavern beneath your feet. A ledge chiselled from the blunt erosion of the rapid currents below. One day, they say, the granite shelf will give and a massive hole filled with howling water will fill it. 

Try not to be the idiot standing on the ledge. 

You feel the power of the currents even on the peat-covered edge. 

The water in front of you is deceptive. A calm, rolling surface at the shoreline almost seems to beckon you inside. Come take a dip in the cool waters. Grow fins and gills and chase the river otters through the currents. Feast on the wily salmon, and see if your feet can touch the sandy streambed. 

But the river's fatality is nearly assured. No one has survived a dip in these waters that act as a serrated knife, carving chasms and channels through the granite below. The currents will rip into you, pulling you until your body is crushed against the wall, or into an unsearchable cave. 

One slip, you think. Just one. 

But—

The man in the bar flickers through your mind. His honeycomb eyes, fanged grin. Ethereal in his beauty like a painting of a god in oil and raw canvas. Carved likeness of a Stygian prince. 

It was Kyle. It was Gaz. You know it. Know it deep within your bones, your marrow.

Taking the first step to the jutting slate that peaks just a few precious inches from the raging waters is easier, then, when you think of the boy who plucked a dandelion from the earth, and tucked it behind your ear. It makes the risk less daunting when it's for him. 

For his parents who sunk into themselves, into the crater his absence left behind. A deep depression into the earth that swallowed them whole.

They moved last year after laying down a bouquet of flowers at the mouth of the forest. 

You toe your shoes off, leaving them at the embankment, and then you leap. The perch is slick with waterlogged moss, slimy. It wobbles under you, but you catch yourself, stabilising. Steady. You huff. One down, four more to go. 

Up close, they look so far apart. A chasm between each rock. An endless abyss that will rip you into pieces. 

Still. Still. You have to find him. Have to. 

You step, toes sliding in the algae. The rock beneath is stained green. It wobbles again when you bring your other foot down on top of it. The loud clack of rock scraping against rock is heard, unmuffled by the roaring water that tugs on the stone. You feel the push against your feet. 

Two more. Two more. 

You take another step, and then—

You fall—

The world drips into focus, a steady trickle of cognisance that paints the world in shades of greens and browns. An eagle soars above the canopy, their shadow swooping through the thick tangle of conifers reaching to the heavens.

The bed of moss beneath you is damp—lush with dew and softer than your mattress at home. You sink into the ground when you breathe, caught in an embrace. The vines curl over your wrists, your ankles, as if refusing to let go. 

It should scare you—and maybe it does—but there's something against your head, fingers digging into your temples, and you feel nothing except a warm serenity leaking in. Thought spool into liquid gold, threads that weave together in a knotted clump. Indistinguishable from each other, and unreachable when they slip deeper into the honeyed-thick fog that curls around your mind. A temper from logic, from fear. Anything that isn't pure, artificial comfort is filtered through and cast aside. 

You don't know why you're here. 

One moment, you felt the coils of the raging currents sinking its claws into your flesh, pulling you under the deep waters, and then—

Heat on your face. The sun's desperate attempt to filter through the corded canopy and touch the forest floor. The shrill call of an eagle on the prowl. The tender caress of the moss below cushions your body. 

You should be underwater. Pressed tight against the side of the rocks until you were swept downstream and spat out in the inlet, waterlogged and dead. 

You draw humid air into your lungs until it swells against your ribcage. The steady thud of your heart tells you that somehow, somehow, you're alive. An empty brag—thud, thud; thud, thud—that seems to call out to the birds in the emergent layer, the ones nestled in their branches as they watch your feeble attempt to reconcile how you survived. 

It's strange, you think, but the soporific warmth coursing through your veins does not let you panic. 

You are—

"Foolish." 

The warmth turns molten. You try to sit up, but the vines tighten around your limbs. If you weren't so vulnerable, you think it would almost feel like a hug. 

The soft crunch of the moss tells you the voice—the man—is moving forward, toward you. You want to scream, but your tongue is thick, and your mouth is numb. 

"What you did there was stupid," he says, and the forest around you seems to come alive in his anger. Pulsing. The branches sway and the leaves rattle without any wind. The trees bend down, coming inward. You hear the scream of a fox in the distance. The chuff of an agitated brown bear. 

Primordial signs tell you to run.

But you're trapped. 

Price steps closer, falling to his knees beside you. You can see him now, and suddenly you wish you'd been swallowed by the waves. 

His face is writ with anger, brows tightening together in displeasure. 

He seems imbued with the forest. One with the lush green that swells around you. Burnt umber and icy blue. Ethereal, unnatural. Something in your hindbrain tells you to run from that man that looks as if he could swallow you whole.

"Tryin' t'die on me, hmm?" 

His hand lifts, and you feel his warm knuckles graze your temple. Soft, gentle, despite the ire in his eyes, and the irritation clenched in his jaw. 

"Gonna hav'ta try harder than that, love." 

You weren't trying very hard at all, you think, dazed, dizzy. You weren't trying at all. 

"You're mine," his eyes flash, and you feel the press of gravity against your skin, pulling you down to the soft earth. Your fingers twitch. The fog inside your head clears. 

Blinking up at him, you catch the scattering supernovae echoing in the corners of his eyes; galaxies of pine and cedar, humus and tussock. They bloom from the black hole in the centre, surrounded by sapphire blue. He's not human, you think, but it doesn't surprise you because you already knew. Have known, really—ever since you asked around for his name and watched the same strange fog seep into their eyes as they struggled to remember a man they claimed to know. 

Ever since you found bushels of figs on your doorstep. 

A crown of pine needles and crow feathers. 

Price leans over you, brows knotted together like the gnarled, weaving trunk of a Great Basin Bristlecone Pine. 

There's a forest fire in his eyes. "You're mine, aren't you?" 

You think about the trinkets left on your doorstep. The whispers, the screams. 

"Did you ever give me a choice?" 

The tension in his brow snaps taut. Agony frissons through the spaced canyons; whet from ire and slick from sorrow. He bends down, and shakes his head. 

"I've always given you a choice," his words are smouldering logs, crackling with his pain. "I've always told you to go, but you couldn't stay away, could you?"

Price takes you on the mossy forest floor, fingers digging into the peat as you sink, down, down, down—

His hand under your head, cradling the back of your skull, keeps you from getting swallowed by the grass knoll that breathes and trill against your spine. 

Fire licks in the crevasses of his eyes, molten desperation you can't ignore. He rages above you, quivering in the fading glow of the sunset struggling to slip through the canopy. No longer a man but a myth. He hangs over you with his canines bared, and flashes of anger and sorrow scorch the path his teeth leave behind on your skin. 

You're becoming unmoored. Each touch, and brush; each sweep of his tongue soothing the indents of his razor-sharp teeth all seem to loosen the ties that thread through your soul, anchoring you to the world that stands in full bloom before you. 

The forest shudders with his frantic pace; each piston of his hips leaks his fervent anguish and makes the trees croon, and creak as they bow their foliage in sorrow. His pain lashes through their roots, and rent the air in two. A fox mourns his loss in the distance. A wolf yowls in agony. His brethren lifting their muzzle to the sleepy moon, and howling out the melody of their despair. 

It's too much, too much, and you fall into pieces in his hands, shivering beneath him as the woods around you tremble and quake. It's a mesmerising dance. 

He finishes with a grunt that makes the world shudder anew, spending himself as deep inside of you as he can, as if he could overwrite your empty spaces with himself. Fill you to the brim until you are bursting with him, with life. Tulips for your eyes. Furze for veins. Moss for hair. Peat soil for blood. 

When he speaks, the world falls silent. 

"You don't know it yet, but you will. You've always been mine. Always belonged to the forest, to the earth. To me."

Despite his words, he lets you go. 

And you run, run, run—

Your toes dig into the wet soil near the stream. The desperate catapult across the ravine halted at the very last moment, leaving you winded and shaking. Hands clenched into tight balls by your side. Quivering with fear, with the adrenaline rush still roaring in your veins. 

You don't know what you're doing. 

The whispers in your head go silent. 

The absence of sound makes you mourn, and you think about his agony. The pain when he took you, the resignation when he let you go. 

You think of him, and you know. 

I've always told you to go, but you couldn't stay away, could you?

You scent napalm in the air, cloying despite the acrid burn that scalds your lungs when you breathe in deep, holding it there. 

You think of the chest inside your closet. The pieces of yourself you left behind. The way he fits you like a puzzle, like he was made for you. Designed with your rough edges in mind. Softening your hard lines; scouring your gritty surface it was smooth and shiny like fire Opal and precious gems. 

Ever since you felt his hand on your shoulder, you haven't been able to let go. 

(You don't even think you ever really tried.)

Come to me, the forest says, honey in your ears. It sounds like the rapid beat of a million birds' wings, ready to take flight. Pulsing and alive and full of wonder, childish glee. 

The earth blooms in your chest. You feel the soft, tender caress of the leaves against your skin, the moss sinking between your toes. Clinging to your flesh, desperate to get inside, and take refuge in your heart. Come home to us.

Your grandmother warned you to stay out of the forest, that it was dangerous. Deadly. Wrong. But how can it ever harm you when it touches you so sweetly? 

The branches curl around your ankles as you walk, leading you, guiding you, to the place where you belong. The forest opens around you, spreads apart and makes room for you to pass, touching you as you go, taking little pieces of you. Strands of your hair, the salt from your tears. Pieces of clothes. Parts of your soul. 

You pluck your heart out of your chest, and leave it beneath a gnarled sequoia. She will protect it forever. 

Moss grows inside of the empty space. A tern makes a nest inside of it, filling it with a bed of pine needles, and twigs from the junipers. You feel a mouse make a home in your rib cage, burrowing between your bones. You place your hand over your side, and feel her nuzzle against your palm. 

"You're safe now," you say. "We're almost home."

It's Gaz who greets you with a crown made of sugi. When he cups your face, you feel raging rivers and streams in his palms, and now that you are home. 

"Missed you, dandelion," he breathes, and his voice turns into a Chinook that crests over the mountains. "But there's someone who wants to see you."

His hands slide down to your wrists, and you feel the sun grazing your skin when he spins you around, around, around—

"Now," he leans down, pressing his lips to the shell of your ear. You hear the Falcons nesting in his chest, and smell pine in his breath. "He's been an impatient bastard, you know? Just moping about ever since you left—"

A scoff. You lift your head and feel the swell of the earth beneath your feet. Dizzying. Wanting. 

He waits for you in the thicket, eyes made of sapphire and stone. When he breathes, the forest swells with his breath, and you taste loam when you swallow. 

"A sorry sap, thinkin' you were runnin' away, and all. But you won't, will you?" Gaz pushes you forward, and his laughter rings in your ears. "Not anymore."

Price meets you in the middle, his eyes sparkling embers. A baptism in fire. You feel the heat on your skin, and shiver. 

You used to be afraid of forest fires, but you know, now, that sometimes trees need to burn before they can truly grow. 

Lodgepole roots bud under his skin, rippling veins across a ravine. He rests his hand against your cheek, thumb brushing the dawn redwood needles that bloom under your skin. 

"Welcome home."

"They'll give you gifts," your gran says, shaking her head. "Things from their realm. Little trinkets and gems—" geodes, sapphires and diamonds, raw gold and coral; "—and you must never accept them," a whittled deer made of sequoia under your pillow; crow bones buried in the garden."Because if you do, if you do, they'll never let you go." 

"Why?" You asked, blinking at her. 

"Because it's a courting ritual, and to accept means… well," her mouth twists in wry disdain. "Just don't." 

You don't tell her that you already have. You don't mention the sticks and precious stones that always ended up on your windowsill. The whispers of the forest calling your name. 

You nod sagely instead, fingers tightening around the sap stained heart chiselled from Bristlecone Pine. The charred ends are warm in your palm. You feel it pulse. 

Will you accept this? My heart? Will you keep it safe for me? 

"I will."

This was meant to be light and fluffy and smutty but now it's. This. And um. Oops. I hope you enjoyed it!

JOHN PRICE MASTERLIST | NAVIGATION PART THREE OF COD X MYTHOLOGY ⁞ SOAP ● DRAGON PRICE

[chellestrash]

Birthday Girl

Mikey Berzatto x Female Reader 

Summary: You show up at The Beef on your birthday, a bit earlier than Mikey was expecting you. But that's alright, you'll still get your birthday gift, dont you worry.

Warnings: explicit language, explicit sexual content, oral sex, unprotected sex, public sex, creampie, teasing, praises, pet names

Word count: 4.1k

A/N: Hi hellooo! So, this is a late birthday gift for my sweet @chelseasdagger because I know how hard she fell for Mikey, especially with how he looks in season 2? The beard?! I mean we all love it right? Thank you @suitsofwo3 for proofreading this mess and I hope those of you who choose to read it will enjoy it. This is my first time writing for Mikey so I hope I did him justice but if I didn't...dont tell me, thank you. 

@chelseasdagger Pea I hope you’ll like this, this is all written with you in mind, and I know we talked about a lot of different ideas for birthday fics over the year and this is I guess a bit different but I hope its still okay. I love you, happy birthday!

You straighten up the dress one last time and clear your throat, mentally preparing yourself for the chaos that's about to ensue the moment you step through the door of the Berzatto restaurant. You loved The Beef, of course you did. You enjoyed most of the time you chose to spend helping around the sandwich shop, but you also knew how overwhelming it could get.

Pushing the designated staff door on the back of the building, you step inside.

“CORNER!”

You jump at the sound and smile at Richie, waving your hand as he sets down the tray of dirty dishes and makes his way over to you the moment he notices your presence.

“Well, well, well, look who it is.” He starts, his arms spread open and a big, welcoming smile on his face as he looks you up and down quickly, nodding his head in approval. You can't help but smile, pushing a strand of hair behind your ear.

“Happy birthday sweetheart.”

“Thanks Richie! I look okay?” You ask, after he hugs you tightly, quickly getting rid of the jacket to fully present your outfit.

“Well, I'd say, fucking great actually, not okay. Okay is not…” He steps back, gesturing over your body, and you shake your head slightly amused, waiting for him to finish the thought.

“Okay is not…doesn’t do it justice, actually.”

You let out a chuckle, rolling your eyes at the compliment.

“What doesn’t do what justice?" Marcus pops his head in from around the corner, and you watch how his face lights up the second his eyes are on yours.

“Oh shit, look who it is!”

“I said that already.” Ritchie points out, and both you and Marcus breathe out a soft laugh.

“Good to see you.”

You step further into the restaurant, meeting him halfway, before he pulls you into a big hug. Brushing his hand over your back, he holds you there for a little longer before finally letting go.

“Happy birthday, that was a special birthday hug.” He announces, and you nod with an impressed expression.

“Yeah?”

Marcus agrees, doing his best to look completely serious before you ask.

“What makes it special?"

Your eyebrows pull together as you watch him attempt to come up with some serious explanation before he shakes his head.

“Can't tell you.”

“And why is that?”

“A magician never reveals his secrets.”

You blink, not knowing what answer you were expecting, but it obviously wasn’t anything along those lines. He winks, a big smile on his face as you both step into the kitchen now and you’re left with no other choice than to just accept the explanation.

You walk past the stoves, careful not to disturb the somehow chaotic but still functional ecosystem the Berzatto brothers managed to create within the restaurant.

“Behind.” You rest your hand on Tina's shoulder, and she turns around quickly, her whole face lighting up, her arms almost immediately wrapping around you as she pulls you into a hug.

“Ayyy my Love, happy birthday!” She cups your face, kissing your cheek before letting go.

“Thank you, Tina, thank you.” You hug her back, and she nods, the smile never leaving her face.

“How are you, how's the birthday girl, huh?” She asks, glancing over your outfit, clearly impressed.

No one here has ever really seen you dressing up like this. Today was…a bit of a special occasion.

"Weird. Tina, Richie, gave me a compliment. Richie! You believe that?"

“Ey!”

You hear the man's voice from the other side of the kitchen, and both you and Tina turn in the direction of the sound.

“I'm being nice!”

“I know!” You shout back, ducking under Ebra's arm when he walks past you. Smiling from eye to eye once he notices you, the man stops for a moment.

“Beautiful.”

“This?”

He nods, showing you he means the dress and the way you look in it.

“Beautiful.”

You nod with a smile, thanking him for the compliment, before he quickly wishes you a happy birthday as well.

Walking around the restaurant, you quickly greet everyone working today. Passing by Sugar and Syd you stop to talk to them for a little bit and they both give you their best wishes and compliments on your outfit as well. Stepping away after a moment, you look around the place with an intention of eventually finding your boyfriend out there but bumping into the rest of the crew you’re unable to complete your mission.

Fak, in a typical Fak fashion, stands in front of you with his mouth wide open the second he sees you, clearly impressed by your chosen look for this special evening.

“Oh my god, you look so pretty!”

You feel your cheeks heating up, not even trying to hide the way the compliments got to you any longer.

“You think so?”

Twirling slightly, you show off the way the dress moves with your body, the silky, soft fabric contrasting with the harsh, industrial interior of the restaurant kitchen. You feel out of place but at the same time, somehow they all make you feel like you’ve never fit in better anywhere else.

“Yeah, you look like a freaking princess!” He continues, walking around you in a circle before turning to face the rest of the crew. “You guys seen this?”

They all nod, smiling and glancing in your direction, and you feel so thankful for all of them in that moment.

“Seen what?” You hear the familiar voice behind you and quickly turn around to face Carmy. Stepping into the restaurant, most likely after a smoke break, he sees you for the first time that day.

“Hey!” You smile.

“Heyyy, yo…you look great, holy shit!”

Pushing his hand through the mess of blond curls, he scratches the top of his head, quickly glancing up and down your body before shaking his head softly.

“Sorry, happy birthday.”

You both smile as he pulls you in for a warm hug.

“Thank you bear.” You mumble quietly, your hand rubbing up and down his back a couple of times before letting go.

“Course! You need anything?" Carmy asks after you two step away from each other.

“Mikey.”

“Oh right, yeah. Office.” He points in the direction of the small room right by the “employees area” and you nod, thankful for the help.

“Thanks.”

You turn back and wave at the few people still looking at you before crossing the hall in a couple of quick steps.

You push the door open and step inside the small, mostly dark room. It's messy, very busy and there's hardly any rhyme or reason to the way the space is ‘organized.’ It screams ‘Mikey’.

You watch the older Berzatto brother while he talks on the phone for another moment, before turning to face you at the sound of the door closing behind you. You wave, not saying anything as you do not wish to interrupt any, possibly, important business. A quiet laugh still slips past your lips, when you watch his eyes open wide at the sight of you.

You gesture over the dress, pushing your hip out to the side before posing. Mikey sinks his teeth into his lower lip, nodding his head to the quiet words on the phone as if the person could somehow see him.

“Hey, I'm gonna have to call you back, man.” He finally speaks up, and you glare at him with a confused expression.

“What? Yeah, emergency.” He lies before hanging up and quickly throwing his phone onto the desk.

“Holy…shit.”

The way his eyes shine when he looks at you makes you feel like your insides are doing jumping jacks. You try your best to remain looking completely unphased but the way his eyes skim over the dress, the way his expression softens and his body slumps slightly, simply just from seeing you there, makes your knees weak.

“Holly Fucking SHIT!” He looks away but quickly turns back to you, squinting his eyes with his head tilted to the side, he attempts to take in the whole picture one more time.

“You like it? Looks good?” You ask, your cheeks aching from the constant smiling, as you feel, possibly, the best you’ve felt all day.

“Good?!” Mikey almost shouts, offended that you'd even try to use such an underwhelming word to describe yourself.

“You fucking-” He starts, taking a step in your direction before you push your leg out, the dress lifting up your leg slight, and he lets out a whine and a grunt before kneeling on the floor right in front of you.

“Oh Mikey come-” You try to stop him, but he doesn't move.

“Holy fuck baby what-you're tryna kill me here i-” He asks, hands already reaching up, longing for the feel of your body against his palms.

You feel yourself getting warmer, the excitement making your heart pound harder in your chest when you glance down to see your boyfriend, Mikey Berzatto, on his knees for you.

“Can I touch you, babygirl? Hmm?” He asks, and you nod, somehow managing to keep your cool and not completely lose it over the way he acts when it comes to you.

“Oh fuck, yeah? Can I touch you here?” His rummbly voice rings out in your head when you feel his fingers brushing the sides of your hips over the fabric of the dress.

“That okay?”

You nod quickly, quicker than you'd like, quicker than a completely composed and not freaking out at the moment person would do.

He hums quietly, tracing over your body for a moment before letting out a loud sigh. Tilting his head up, he stares at you in silence for a couple seconds before speaking again.

“Don’t think I can do it.”

“Don’t think you can do what Mikey bear?” You ask, pushing your hand through the thick dark hair, and you watch him hum quietly after he leans into your touch.

“Don’t think I can wait…till after dinner.”

You pause, pulling your hand away, and fight back the smile when he looks up at you, completely serious.

“Mikey.” You start, but he continues.

“You look too fucking good baby, how the fuck do you expect me to keep it together for another.-" He glances back at the small, long broken clock on the wall of the small office before turning his face back to you. “Couple hours."

You breathe out a quiet laugh, shaking your head in disbelief, and he wraps his arms around the top of your legs, right under your ass. Pulling you closer, he rests his head against your lower stomach, following the action up with a theatrical sigh.

“It's too good.”

“I mean you told me it's a fancy dinner Mikey, you shot yourself in the foot.” You talk back, and he thinks it over for a moment, ultimately deciding that you're probably right.

“Yeah well…" He mumbles under his breath, pushing his face against your body again, he leaves a kiss right between your legs through the soft fabric of the dress.

“Fuck baby.”

You feel his hands again, feel how they slowly travel lower and lower down your body, his fingers tug at the hem on the bottom of the dress before you feel his touch on your skin. Brushing his fingers up and down your skin, Mikey keeps his head up, watching your face for ques and indications, a confirmation that this isn't something only he wanted.

You agree, encouraging him with a small nod and a quiet hum, the gentle feeling of his fingertips on your skin makes your body relax, and you take a deep breath in, closing your eyes for a moment before leaning back on the door.

The sensation of the soft silky fabric grazing over your skin as Mikey pulls it higher up your body makes your hips inch forward. Pulling the dress the few last inches up, he stops suddenly.

“Shit.” He whispers, his warm breath glides over your skin, and you glance down to check on him.

“Hey baby? Remind me please…is it your birthday or mine?”

The question caches you off guard, and you bunch up the dress, looking down at him slightly confused.

His eyes are fixed on the cute pair of panties you chose to wear, they were new, he hadn't seen them yet, it was going to be a surprise…later.

He pulls the fabric a couple inches away from your body before suddenly letting go, the waistband snaps back in place, and he looks up at you with a sly smirk.

“Lucky me, huh?” He teases, and you feel your legs pushing together, the way he was able to turn this whole thing around, to get you wet in a matter of seconds was basically like a special skill of his.

Mikey ducks his head under the fabric of your dress and after a moment you feel his warm kisses press against the skin right above the waistband of your underwear.

A gasp slips past your lips when his fingers hook over the hem, and you reach to lock the door behind you.

Both of you knowing what's about to happen.

"Mikey.” Your attempt is unsuccessful, and he chuckles, seeing your efforts after popping his head from under the dress.

“Yeah no that doesn't—it's busted baby, can't do shit about it now, you'll have to be quiet. Think you can do that?”

You nod, eagerly waiting to feel him on you.

“Yeah? That’s my girl.” He smirks, holding you a little tighter before he ducks his head under the fabric again.

You feel his lips on your skin again, the kisses travel from your lower tummy, over your panties and down to your thighs. The familiar warmth between your legs feels almost burning hot when you feel his fingers brush over the fabric in the most sensitive spot.

He has your full attention, all your senses focus on him to the point where your brain tunes out your surroundings. The small room feels darker now, somehow more secluded, the background

noise of the busy restaurant disappearing almost completely as you let your body relax into your boyfriend’s touch.

Mikey slowly gets rid of the cute pair of panties, pulling the fabric down your legs, following with a trail of small kisses before finally letting go, allowing them to fall to your ankles.

A quiet moan slips past your lips when he pushes your legs open slightly, his face so close to your core now, his warm breath feeling almost electric on your skin.

Mikey works around you for a moment, his tongue following the path his lips create with the kisses over your pussy, on your highs and right under your tummy. You feel his fingers digging deeper into your thighs and ass before he finally pulls you even closer. And with a satisfied hum, he pushes his tongue against you.

You whine quietly, and he breathes out a little laugh, continuing to work you over and over again while you pull the skirt up and off of his head, so you can bury your fingers in his hair again. Your hips buck forward, working as a cue for him to keep going. Your head falls back, and you bite your lip in order to somehow attempt to keep quiet like he instructed you. The sweet combination of licks, kisses and Mikey sucking your clit into his mouth making it almost impossibly difficult, and some part of you keeps telling you Michael Berzatto was fully aware of what he was doing.

“Mmmm-mikey-“ You start. Feeling your body slowly giving into the pleasure, despite you trying to last longer.

“Mmmhh” He hums gently against you, the rumbly sensation causing another moan to slip past your lips. Mikey knew what he was doing, he knew you, he knew your body and most importantly, he knew what you liked, he knew how to make you feel good. You’ve explained it to him before, and he proved to be a great listener.

With your clit in his mouth, his tongue flicking against it repeatedly, Mikey looks up at you, watching the expressions on your face change, your body move as you start to feel yourself getting closer.

Your breathing shallows and you can feel your heart pounding faster now that he’s gotten you to this point.

“Oh fuck!” You gasp, gripping his dark hair tighter when you feel your body twitch at the feeling.

“Yeah?” Mikey pulls away finally, his beard wet from you, shining in the dim light of the desk lamp, the only source of light in the small room at this moment. His fingers fill in for his mouth as he continues to work over your center as he talks.

“Yeah? You want it, baby?”

You nod, closing your eyes and biting down on your lip when he pushes his palm harder against you. Rocking your hips back and forth you add onto the feeling and when the heel of his palm hits your clit you whine out, louder than you would’ve liked.

“Shit, you sound so pretty baby, you know that.” He praises, not trying to tease you in any way anymore, clearly wanting this as much as you do. Your little sounds of pleasure making his jeans feel so incredibly tight, he could swear he feels himself getting lightheaded.

“You wanna feel me, baby?” He asks, slipping one finger inside you, but you both already know the answer.

Nodding energetically, you feel yourself clenched around his two fingers.

“Oh fuck, you're so perfect.” He mumbles, his voice almost breaking when he realizes if you keep this up, he most likely won't last much longer.

“Tell me what you want, baby. Tell me what you need.”

Unable to fight your own body, you lower yourself on his fingers, the wet sound filling the room for a second before you somehow manage to speak.

“I want to feel your-, Mikey, I need-”

The whine bounces around inside his head when he slips his two fingers out of you. He stands up quickly, his hand on the side of your face as he tilts your chin up and his lips press against yours.

Led by him, you stumble towards the desk, not wanting to break the kiss, you lick over his lips, tasting yourself on him for a second before he spins you around.

“This what you want? Hm?” He asks, already bunching up the fabric of the dress, and you buck your ass into the bulge in his jeans as a response.

“Fuck.” He grunts, gripping onto the edge of the desk to hold himself back for a second. “Fuck, that’s my girl, so fucking perfect.”

The repeated praise makes you feel lightheaded, you can barely hear him unbuckle the belt and pull the jeans down before pulling himself out of his boxers.

You look over your shoulder watching him work over his length a couple of times and reach back to do it for him. He grabs your hand, moving it back to the desk before holding both of your wrists above your head while you bend over the wooden counter in front of him.

“No, baby, today is about you. Got it?”

You nod, feeling the tip of his cock tease your entrance.

“Good girl, hold tight.”

You do, you grip the edge of the desk, digging your nails into the wood just as hard as Mikey's fingers dig into your thighs.

The table moves with the first thrust, and you feel your mouth falling open when you feel your body push forward on the wooden counter.

“Oh fuck” You whimper and feel his hand immediately on yours.

“I'm here, I'm here baby, good job.” He praises again, and you grip his hand tighter, feeling his hips begging to rock back and forth, his cock moving inside you. The pace is steady but slow for the first moment, and it doesn't take you long to adjust yourself properly to his size. He speeds up only after your little whines, when he knows it's your way of asking for more.

“That’s it baby.”

He continues to guide you, holding onto your hand, pushing inside you deeper and faster now. Your eyes begin to water and your legs push together, your body's way of telling you it's almost time. You hum, attempting to let your boyfriend know, and he reassures you.

“I know, I know, I can feel it.”

He speeds up the pace one last time, grabbing onto your hips tighter in order to help you move back and forth on his cock, just to make the feeling a bit more intense.

Your lips part and you pant loudly, hearing the pounding of your heart in your head and feeling it against the wooded desk under your chest.

Unable to fight back the sounds anymore, you whine and moan loud enough for him to hear them over his own grunts. Feeling your body tensing up, you cry out his name and when he slips his free hand between your bodies to touch you, your body tenses up one more time before relaxing completely after you come undone around him.

He makes sure you ride out the orgasm, that, or he just can't really stop himself at this point, trying to follow closely after you. With a loud grunt and a couple of swear words, he pushes deep one more time before coming inside you. The thick, warm liquid fills you up just how you like it, and you push your hips back one more time when he attempts to pull himself out.

“Woah, easy.” He laughs, his hand on your ass now as he holds you in place before taking a step back. You feel the cum leak out, dripping down your leg for a moment before he finally speaks again.

“I can't fucking look at that, or we'll have to go again.”

You laugh, still attempting to catch your breath before pushing yourself off the desk. Mikey steps closer, offering you his arm to hold onto as you try to stand up straight, while he lets the fabric of the dress fall back into place. His own clothes already pulled back up, looking somewhat presentable.

“What if…,” You start watching him grab some paper towels from a shelf. “What if I wouldn’t mind going again?” You ask and he snorts quietly, gently pulling your clothes back up before wiping most of the thick white liquid off of the sides of your thighs.

“I know you wouldn't sweetheart.” He starts, glancing up at you with the most genuine smile, the love and admiration in his eyes almost making you blush like he didn’t just fuck you over his office desk.

Placing a kiss right between your legs, he quickly stands back up.

“But-” He continues, holding your hand up to help you step out of the panties still stuck around your ankles.

“We have a reservation."

He reminds you of the actual plans for today before bending over to grab the panties off the floor and shoving them into his pocket.

“We can't be late for that, huh?”

You shake your head, knowing he’s right.

“Yeah, c'mere.” He sits down on the desk chair, pulling you into his lap before wrapping his arms around you.

You sigh loudly, and he lets you rest your head against his chest. Pressing three gentle kisses right at the top, he holds you even tighter. His thumb bushing over your skin, his breathing helping your own slow down.

“You felt good?” He asks quietly and you nod with a smile.

“You know, I always do.”

“Well…I gotta make sure you know? I mean, if there's room for improvement-“

You laugh, looking up at him and cupping his face with your hand.

“I mean I gotta know baby! It’s the law, you have to tell me.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, they just made it a law this morning.”

“Oh, oh well, that’s wonderful to know.”

“Mhm.”

You cuddle up into him some more, letting your eyes close for a second.

“Yo Mikey, what the fuck are you doing, we need you in the kitchen.”

Carmy.

“Yeah, yeah, I'm coming!” Mikey shouts back, covering your ears before he does so, just to try to not disturb you as much. You both laugh at his choice of words before he leans down for one last kiss.

“Happy birthday sweetheart.” He whispers, his lips brushing over you when you nod softly. Your arms now wrapped around his neck.

"I ain't done with you yet."

You smile softly at the promise.

“Thank you, Bear.”

He winks, walking over to the door.

"Rest up, baby. I love you."

[meowhara]

࿐.ೃ࿔*:･ 𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝑨𝒃𝒚𝒔𝒔 𝑾𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒆 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝑴𝒐𝒏𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒓 𝑨𝒃𝒐𝒅𝒆

⊹ ࣪ ﹏𓊝﹏𓂁﹏⊹ ࣪ ˖ miguel o’hara x fem siren!reader

cw : blood and gore (not much but still)

synopsys : miguel's residence was a unique one, though nobody knew the existence of a deadly being inhabiting beneath it

It was always the same question whenever anyone visited his house. They’re always wondering why it was built like that. Some parts of his house where the tiles should be, were replaced by thick glasses. Clear enough to see the deep blue water underneath. His house was practically built over a gigantic man made body of water. It wasn’t an empty body of water either, there was life thriving underneath. The variety of fishes no matter what sizes or kind live there with coral reefs and underwater plants for the aquatic creatures to live in. Making a whole complete living underwater ecosystem.

“I don’t understand.”

“Don’t understand what?” Miguel huffed, his back facing the man that considered him a friend just because they met back in college.

“You. Look at this place.”

“Was that supposed to be an insult?” He popped open a bottle of fine alcohol and poured a glass for himself, then leaned on the kitchen’s counter before taking a sip.

“No… Not really.” The man reverts his gaze to the wide window behind Miguel. The marine life beyond that window was just stunning. For somebody like Miguel, having this kind of lifestyle wouldn’t be anyone’s first guess.

Miguel rolled his eyes from his reply, walking off from the counter with his drink before walking upstairs. “Would you mind leaving? I’m busy.” He scowled.

“Why? Are you hiding something?”

Miguel’s eyes twitched, isn’t he just polite?

He set himself down on a couch in the middle of the room. The living room was a unique one. There’s a spot where the tiles are supposed to be, left absent and empty. Leaving a literal two rectangular pool connected to each other’s ends, with a wide angle where an “L” shaped marine blue sofa that stretches for at least three meters long on both of its sides. A coffee table made out of thin marble with an oval shape in the center which was also in blue, decorated with gold lining.

The pool, oddly, is a wide one. It was made so that a whole human could slip through it, rather than for decorational purposes. Nobody really pointed it out in the past though, it seems to be a normal thing for anyone to have in their home if they had the money for it. Most people would drown from how deep the pool is if they're not careful. The bottom of the pool was out of the question from how deep it was intentionally made.

The ceiling was high above with water flowing down, forming a thin wall made out of water. Flowing down onto the same pool in the middle of the room. Tall windows on one end of the house, showcasing the breathtaking beauty of Nueva York, especially at night.

His eyes focused on the ill-mannered man he barely knows. Watching each one of his moves carefully.

“Don’t you have a Girlfriend?”

“Broke up.” He answered quickly as the man stood before him after he finished strolling around uninvitedly.

“How did you get your hands on these types of creatures anyway? I’ve never even seen some of the fishes you have swimming around underneath these tiles.” He tapped his feet onto the transparent material underneath his feet. The fishes swam away from the loud thumping noises of his feet.

“I have my own way.” He spoke before taking another sip.

“Illegal?”

“No.” After a long pause, he continues, “Would you mind doing me a favor?” Miguel added.

“What favor?”

“Taking a few steps away?”

“What? Why?”

He shrugged, “Personal space.”

“Geez.” Unsuspectingly, he took a few steps back until his feet were almost touching the edge of the floating platform.

A low whistle escapes Miguel’s mouth seconds before a creature with high speed emerges from underneath the water. Slamming the unsuspecting man into the ground, knocking air out of his lungs. He felt its sharp fangs digging into his flesh with the creature’s weight pushing him forcefully onto the ground. A creature with a human-like body and a massive fin instead of legs hisses their sharp fangs at him, their hair long with water dripping down. Its eyes are as dangerous as the dark mysterious sea, ready to devour him at any second. The man’s eyes widened in sheer panic as he tried to push whatever it was away.

A smile plastered across the host’s face. Calmly sipping all the remaining wine into his system with his back relaxing against his seat. The man screamed, fighting for his life. He even begged for Miguel to save him. But he was too busy watching your beautiful form ripping flesh out of your prey’s body with your mouth. Watching his pet feasting on her favorite meal of the day. His screams died down eventually. The scene was a complete mess, chunks of meat everywhere with a mixture of blood and water splattered across the floor.

Miguel set the empty glass in his hand down before standing up and closing the distance between the both of you slowly. When you saw him approaching you and your meal, you hissed at him.

“Easy there, cupcake.” He scoffed, “I’m not going to steal him away.”

He stood there as you possessively dragged the remaining of your meal back into the pool. Drowning it with you. “That brat.” The word came out from his mouth followed by a chuckle and a shake of his head.

“Lyla, clean this shit up for me.” He commanded the programmed woman.

“You're spoiling her Miguel.” She complained, her hollow body flickering in the dim lit room.

“I'm not. My baby got what she deserves.”

This has been going on for a pretty long time. People disappeared after entering his home, especially the uninvited ones. Although, there are some exceptions. There is someone that loves crashing into his place.

“How many times did I tell you to stop coming here?” His arms crossed over his chest as he scolded the only person that would leave his abode unharmed.

“It's not my fault you made this place very interesting.”

“That was not a reason for you to keep coming here every time I went to work.”

“Aww, don't brothers share?” Gabriel teased.

“I hate you.” Miguel pinched the bridge of his nose in exasperation.

“I won't be coming here ever again.”

Miguel raised his eyebrow, unamused by his little brother's promise.

“I won't be coming here ever again, if you let me have a party here.”

“No.” He didn't even think before the answer left his mouth.

“Then I'll pester you until the end of my life.”

“Go on then. I would rather you bother me rather than inviting people here.”

“Come on, my friends would love this place.”

Miguel's eyes were not focused on him after he saw a glimpse of your eyes inside the pool from where he's standing. He saw the hunger in your eyes upon looking at his brother, a tasty meal for your kind. He knew this would happen that's why he never invited anyone over except for your feeding time every once in a while.

But there's no way he would let you feast on his own family, he shook his head with a serious look on his face. He knew that you would listen to him either way, so he sighed as he watched you disappeared before his eyes.

“If you still want to live, leave.” Miguel spoke with a firm tone in his voice.

“But—”

“I said no to your stupid party and that's final. Leave before I told Lyla to never let you in here ever again.”

“You would ban me from coming here just because of this?”

“Gabriel.” He warned, insisted on letting him stay and telling him the reason why was never the best move to pull no matter what the situation is. Miguel watches as he leaves, listening to his brother swearing under his breath before the door shut by itself. The sound of small waves of water followed by ripples of water made Miguel turn his body to look at your head peeking out of the pool with a frown evident on your face. Breaking his heart from how sad you look after not getting what you wanted, he hates disappointing you.

Your eyes were fixed on the door, hoping your walking food would come back. “I know baby, I know. I'm sorry, okay? But you can't eat him.” He lowers himself to touch your face, gently caressing your cheek. You keep your head fixed on the door without hissing at Miguel. Human language is a foreign one to your ears, you can't understand anything, just a few basic words. Miguel was fully aware of this so he repeated himself. The certain word will always taste bitter to his mouth when it comes to pleasing you. “No baby, you can't eat him.”

Your frown worsens from the word ‘no’. You're not sure what it means, all you understand is that every time the word escapes his mouth, he won't let you get what you desire. “I'll make it up to you tomorrow, I promise.”

After that, he fed you even more men to satisfy your hunger. Their bodies sunk into the abyss of water where the monster he fell in love with abode.

[onskepa]

Paywll

anon's request: Can you do Metkayina family x human reader? The reader is an expert at underwater gardening, thats all! Thank you! Sorry, I forgot to mention: Could they be earth water plants? like seaweed, lily's, all the like? thank you!

---------------

Paywll hums a soft tune as she tends to her plants. In a small, naturally made pond was found by paywll when she was exploring the island of the metkayina clan. What was supposed to be a study of plant adaptation turned into something more. It became a second home to her, new found family among the na’vi. Truly it is amazing. Even more now that she can do what she always wanted to do. 

Preserve and regrow endangered plants. To be more specific, the last remaining Earth plants. They are very delicate and hard to cultivate while meeting their needed requirements to survive in a whole new environment. 

Paywll used the little pond she found to start her plant cultivation. Starting small and seeing how it can handle a small portion of the ecosystem. Placing water lilies, lily pads, and azolla filiculoides. She plans to add more, to save what is left of Earth and its precious plants. So far, she is happy to see how well her plants are growing. Even better, they are in need of changing from a small pond, to something bigger. 

“Ok, be very careful ao’nung, these plants are very fragile. Let rotxo help you” paywll gently instructs the young na’vi. Ao’nung grins happily as he lifts a large solid bowl above his head. 

“I got this paywll, you just lead the way” he says. Beside him was his sister, tsireya who also holds a large bowl with the help of rotxo. 

“Alright, we have to move quickly,” paywll says and begins to walk a bit fast. The pond where she shelters the Earth plants has quite a distance from the nearest beach. When arriving at the village, many people knew the protocol as they made way for her and the children. None daring to get in their way. 

At the beach, Ronal awaits them with tools at hand. 

They will have to move quickly for it to work. 

“Mother! Time to begin” tsireya calls out to Ronal. Nodding, ronal pulls out her thin web like net. Ao’nung and tsireya lower the bows for paywll to do the next part. Taking the net from Ronal, she begins to instruct. 

“Alright, for this part it may seem easy, but it's detrimental for the plant's life cycle” paywll begins to explain. Everyone nodded as they were ready to follow her instructions. 

Grabbing the thin net, paywll places it on the surface of the water. 

“Tsireya, the water lilies” she calls out to. 

Nodding, tsireya takes out the water lilies from the large bowl with great care, being mindful to not touch the root. Slowly she puts the flowers on top of the net, letting it float. Ao’nung does the same with the azolla filiculoides. Roxto surrounded the plants with the lily pads while not over passing the net limits. Ronal goes under water to add a base at the bottom of the net. Adding three long ropes made with the same material as the net. She places one under a rock, the second gently tied to a coral base, and the third to a big shel. All for the net to not move and not disrupting the plants. 

“What will this do paywll?” roxto asks. 

“With the shallow waters, the plants will recognize its areas and adjust. It was familiar with the pond so we moved it to a similar area. This will also help the plants to adapt and grow” paywll happily explains. 

“How long will it take to adapt?” tsireya was the second to ask as she admires the pretty plants. 

“Depends on them. Can take days, or weeks. So, to know, I will have to watch over them and see if there is a difference. If they grow, then its working” paywll explains further. 

Ronal took a liking to the water lilies, “if they do grow, what then?” she asks. 

“We will gently cut some roots and separate them. Overcrowding can be bad, so when the time comes, we will place a new batch somewhere else” 

Tsireya was in awe at the plan, already imagining what the shores will look like. Full of amazing alien plants, flowers and who knows what else. 

“Now that the pond is clear, I can grow more different plants. Do the same as these, grow, transfer, cultivate, repeat” the human plans out. However the next batch of plants will be tricky, since they won't be in the pond for the process. 

“What other plants do you wish to grow?” 

“These are beautiful” ronal compliments. She observes the plants that were in the pond, small leaves that paywll called ‘Caulerpa’. Ronal watches as her friend slowly starts to dig out the roots of the said plant into the large bowl. 

“They will become more beautiful once I put these on the sand bed,” paywll says as she carefully transfers the plant. Just like before, they make quick haste to the ocean shore. Ronal helping paywll by guiding her to the desired area to place the plant. 

Paywll gently holds down the plants so as to not float or sway away underwater. 

Her lilies, pads, and other plants were adjusting so well to their new ecosystem that it made her want to grow more of the endangered plants. 

“Here we are” ronal signs. 

Nodding, paywll places the Caulerpa seaweed at the pre-dugged spot. Gently placing down the roots and covering it with sand and some shells in case it rises up. Ronal makes circular rotation around paywll incase a curious fish wants to intervene. 

Paywll gives a thumbs up, signaling its all set. Ronal grabs her friend by the waist and starts to swim up. Once they reached the surface, they smile in glee together. It seems a lot to grow plants but ronal enjoys every bit of it. Especially if it gets her to spend more time with pawll and see in her view, how precious these foreign plants are to her.

It was night, the family all gathered in their home, paywll being their honored guest. They all sit and enjoy the much earned food ronal glady made. Another hard day's world for everyone. 

“Paywll, how many do you plan to grow? At this point, it's starting to look like a large underwater garden” ao’nung says. Ronal hisses at him, tonowari slightly glaring at his son. Paywll just giggled at his words. 

“As many as I can. These plants mean a lot to me. I dont want these plants to be extinct or endangered. There are so many types you have yet to see ao’nung. Many you might like too. I couldnt save what little remains of nature back on my planet but, fortunately I did manage to save a little bit of these darlings. And trust me, what you see is nothing so what else I have yet to plant” paywll answers. 

Ronal nods in approval. Placing her hand on her friends back, she speaks, “it our shores will be a garden, then so be it” 

“It might even attract more fish or other creatures,” tsireya says, seeing many possibilities. 

“Once the Macrocytosis start to grow a bit big, you are going to love the types of corals I plan to farm” paywll says. 

Tonowari hears this, his ears twitching a bit, “corals you say? I look forward to those”. 

Paywll chuckles, “you might like the sun croal, they are very colorful and interesting shapes”. 

He nods, “I would gladly assist you in it” 

Paywll nods as well. Truly, she is lucky to have the support of the reef na’vi. Allowing her to place the Earth’s sea plants into their territory. Really, even from the beginning of befriending them. But she is grateful, extremely grateful. With their support and willing to have foreign plants into their native ecosystem, paywll does not plan to break any cycle, only to improve and adapt. And honestly, paywll would mind having an underwater garden as ao’nung mentioned. It will be like an underwater oasis for the plants, to never be extinct and only thrive as they always should have. 

Aaaaaaaaand that is it for this one! Sorry for no sneak peek for this fic, it was pretty short, but sweet! Hope you all liked it! Until next time! See ya!

-------

Paywll = water plant, dapophet , Aloeparilus succulentus

[dancingdonatello]

Okay so like you know that myth that reptiles can't live?well what if the mc reads that somewhere and actually believes it and gets so upset that their turtle s/o don't have the ability to love me.

It can be angst, fluff, whatever you prefer :]

rottmnt x gn reader

You were pretty excited when your biology class had a section on animals and their ecosystems. You were required to do a research paper and a presentation on a specific type of animal.

Of course, you picked reptiles, with a small section dedicated specially to turtles.

But what you had found out during your research stunned you.

Reptiles lack the capacity to love?

Raphael immediately picks up that you’re acting strange around him. He’s hurt, because he’s convinced that you’re going to break up with him.

Why else would you be avoiding him like this? Giving him such strange looks?

He follows you around like a lost puppy, lingering but still trying not to overwhelm you. When you finally admit what you had learned, he’s shocked. You think he doesn’t love you?

He thinks it’s something he’s done. Maybe he hasn’t shown it enough. Or said it enough. He amps his affections up to a 10, smothering you in love every time he so much as sees you.

When Leo has finally pestered you enough to get the truth out of you, he’s flabbergasted. You’ve been worrying over that for a week?

A whole week without spending quality time together or god forbid his daily quota of kisses, because you believed junk you read off the internet.

He drags you to his room and frantically rips a curtain off one of his shelves. It’s almost every single item, at least the small ones that he could fit on a shelf, you’ve ever given him. Including a mint that he had never eaten and kept in the wrapper.

Would a heartless turtle keep all those tokens of your love? He doesn’t think so.

Donatello just confronts you immediately. He can't say he enjoys how you’ve been acting around him recently.

Not long ago, you had been so excited to be around him. It was because of your paper. You asked him all these questions and he would answer you. You also got to inspect every inch of him for your “studies.”

But now you were quiet and upset. Avoiding him. Looking at him sadly. He snatches your paper to read it over when you’re asleep. Yes, he broke into your house. But he had to figure out what was happening.

You had a small paragraph detailing on how reptiles couldn’t love, according to some study done in 2013. He rolls his eyes and grabs a red pen, annotating how this had no data on mutant turtles and also not to use outdated sources on an academic paper.

Mikey lets you fester, knowing that you always crack eventually. He’s learned throughout your relationship that if he presses, it just takes longer for you to admit what’s actually making you upset.

When you finally blurt out what’s been bothering you, he raises an eye ridge. What has really been bothering you? Surely, you don’t actually believe that since he’s a turtle mutant that he doesn’t love you.

He finally gets to the bottom of it. He scribbles out the root of your behavior. Anxiety. Insecurities. Etc. You hadn’t truly believed that he couldn’t love, you were self sabotaging.

Luckily, your turtle boyfriend was very good with reading people. And very patient.

[6saints]

Delicate

Yandere! Merman x Reader

18+ - gore and smut

Chapter two

—

It is in human nature to be deleterious. To be a cancerous leech plundering on the natural resources Earth had to offer. Human nature entails dominance over any being deemed inferior, to find amusement and comfort in the technology the big bad business men advertise. They are wolves selling a fallacy of hope to the selfish humans who pray for an advanced civilization; all while stuffing their pockets with gold and giving blessings to the sick.

That homeless man may have been right about the end of the world, or those hippies chaining themselves to trees or even those laughable metal straw ads everyone would skip. Had anybody listened to the fanatical people of the early 70's, perhaps the state of the earth would never have gotten so dilapidated. Magazines and newspapers were thrown out for billboards, projectors and little technological pockets of information. The news always the same, yet always afflictive to the weak little hearts of the people. Every day was a new animal, new country, new city being destroyed by one man made thing or the other.

That was how he was raised. To despise humans and their technology, the same filth congesting his oceans and killing any and all marine life.

His first encounter with humans had been just a decade ago. Fishing vessels weren't common near Silnich shores therefore, his entire childhood had gone relatively unoccupied. Socialization was rare, even amongst his own species, so when a Trawler spurred against empty waters the half-fish was naturally whelmed with vague interest.

It was a melancholy night; ashen clouds covering the darkness. The waters were desolate, a lonely ambience surrounding the waves and empty sky. Zero lights, he had thought to himself, his diaphanous tail swishing beneath himself. Occasionally, if he was lucky, yellow, red, purple and even blue dots would scatter behind clouds and a pale moon would situate itself at their side.

He recalled an old friend, a merman and traveller, had once mentioned calling them stars. That humans could see them up close, that they could dance and fly among them; a laughable notion considering only birds could do such a thing. Humans were widely regarded as stupid and rather begrimed; a soiled species responsible for the odd materials destroying underwater ecosystems. He never understood his friend's peculiar way of regarding them, almost as if with an admiration of sorts.

"Alright boys, what we catchin' today?" A loud, booming voice sounded atop the boat.

Two other voices had joined in, southern and thick. "How bout a shark?"

"Shut up, Randall," laughed one of the men, "Let's catch some fish fore' the boss rings our neck."

A thunderous whirring came from a machine attached to the boat, yellow and rusted with a net attached to the bottom. It sunk beneath the inky waters, the boy following after with pure curiosity. He noticed a school of fish swimming closer, their delicious forms becoming entrapped within the roped net and struggling to swim out. Their meager bodies flattened against each other, fins frantically fluttering back and forth in a futile attempt at escape.

Did humans also eat fish? He wondered.

He hadn't gotten a look at what the men's physical appearances were. How big are they that they need so much fish?

He swam closer, using his taloned fingers to scratch at a piece of the net, allowing for one of the fish to plop out into his webbed hand. Easy hunt, he thought to himself, swallowing the fish whole before reaching in to grab another.

This time, however, the whirring sound seemed to grow louder and the net began oscillating at a rapid rate. Before he could push himself away from the machine the net clasped around his tail and arm, forcing him into place with the rest of the fish surrounding him. He struggled, contorting his body forward and backward venturing to free himself.

SMACK!

All his sensitive skin could feel was a cold, damp metal beneath his limbs, fish jumping to and fro around him as the light from the boat blurred his vision. The slits in his eyes became thinner, almost nonexistent, when one of the men flashed something strikingly bright into his face. Two of the three voices now had a face and body, each distinct and rather ugly. The larger, burley man had no hair atop his head yet his arms were covered, a complete contrast to the smoothness of a mermaid's upper body. The one flashing an instrument in his face was rather lanky and petite, a beard cleanly growing across his chin and ending just above his collarbones. He couldn't find the third one, he didn't know if he even wanted to.

The bulky man had thin lips curled into an odd smile, like two sea worms bent in an odd angle, a tooth sticking out the side of his lip curiously. "What the hell am I looking at?" His voice was painful up close, the boy's finned ears twitching as they continued speaking.

"Certainly not a shark," the other whispered, a shocked expression painting his unkept features.

"Say, you a fuckin' mermaid?" He asked. The man took a thin metal rod and poked his tail.

"Mermaids are females, boss."

"Merboy?" He corrected himself sarcastically.

The fish-boy didn't speak, tightlipped and glaring at the men hovering above him. Occasionally, a frantic fish would slap him on his face.

"Well fuck me I guess." He rolled his eyes. "What should we do with it?"

"I don't know, boss, maybe we-"

A voice from behind the boy cut the lanky man off, "We make some money off of him."

He jerked his head back, staring wide-eyed at the new voice that had appeared. A light flashed, the man carrying a square box with a whitened piece of glass just over his eye. The third man, round and clean, looked like an office worker dressed up as a fisherman. "What?"

"You ain't hear me the first time?" He walked up to the boy, hands pulling at his tail just to check for any hint of falsehood. He growled at him, exposing two rows of sharpened teeth, the canines especially long. "Woah!" He stumbled back before recomposing himself. "How much money you think people would pay to see a mermaid?"

"It's a boy."

"Same thing." He shrugged.

"Probably a lot," the bigger man muttered, pondering for a moment. "What you say bout' bringin' him with us?"

"Where we gonna put him?"

"I can free up space in one of the barrels back at the yard. Some water should keep it alive." The lanky man walked closer to the boy, bending forward with a confidence only an idiot could sport. "You got lungs, right kid?"

These are the things that can fly like birds? He bitterly laughed to himself, as if!

The fish-boy hoisted himself up, lunging at the man and just barely grazing his left shoulder. His tail caught on the net, forcing his body back into the metal floor brutally.

"Shit!" The man whimpered, clutching into his shoulder feverishly. "The kid's got a bite to him."

"Grab the extra netting from the back." Ordered the hairy man immediately, that odd smile of his disappearing into a frown.

The men began tying him up, repulsed expressions covering their faces as they got a closer look at the struggling being. He was snarling, animalistic eyes wanting nothing more than to kill them for touching him with their filthy human hands. These men are exactly as the stories portrayed them! Absolutely abhorrent and disgusting!

Unfortunately for him, these men were massive, towering at 6 feet.

Mermen on the other hand didn't reach full maturity until age 20 and the majority of their size would come from the length and girth of their tail, not their upper bodies. Though, he imagined he would look significantly better than these rotten humans once he did reach adulthood.

He glanced at the fish and then at the hairy man. He was the one that would put up the most fight, he figured. The lanky one was weak and rather easy to overpower and the round one was a coward. If he could get rid of the one threat he would be free to escape.

"Please don't hurt me," he blurted, skin paling further and his body forcing a shiver.

"The little shit speaks!" The lanky man laughed.

"Aye kid, we're not gonna hurt you, sailor's promise." His target stepped forward.

Just a little more, he thought.

"I'm sorry for scratching you," he looked up at the men, big doe eyes pricking with non existent tears.

His new bald headed prey walked forward again, kneeling down and holding out a fish. He wondered if he was overselling the helpless child trope a bit too much, recalling how orcas would do something similar in the wild.

Whatever the case was, the man was within reach. He extended his webbed fingers, slow and innocent-like, but instead of grabbing the puffed fish he imbedded his talons into the man's eyes, pulling him on top before quickly searching his pockets for anything that would free him.

The men behind were bellowing out curses and shouts, petrified of the scene in front of them. As he suspected, the larger man ran back to the edge of the vessel, whitened knuckles grasping onto the metal in a horrified state. His fingers prodded and poked until something sleek and flat made contact with his palm. He fumbled with the edges of a strangely ornate and intricate design, swirls of flowers and odd vinery leading to a sharpened edge.

Just in time too, considering his friend, though weak, had garnered the courage to defend his crew imperishably.

He pushed the man's body forward, tripping the other while he made his escape over the edge of the boat, both screaming incoherently about one scary thing or the other. The boy allowed his no longer confined body to sink to the bottom of the ocean. He could still view the top clearly and hear the men's belting, unlike the darkness and comforting silence the ocean usually offered him. Their voices began to wane, signaling their exit. He was exhausted, hurt, and dejected.

And this interaction only proved to him the cruelty that human beings harbored within themselves.

Since that day, humans never made an appearance on Silnich waters again. Perhaps he had instilled a fear into them, a sense of self preservation that he knew only a selfish human could harbor. The humans must have warned the others, fed them stories about the attack of a crazed sea monster, who was really just a scared boy.

He was 24 now, a grown merman protective of the colony he had single-handedly protected. The fish were his to eat, the sharks and dolphins were his to play with, and the sky was entirely his to look at.

Until it wasn’t.

“Slow down you crazy child..”

The melodic harmonies began playing a soft tune.

“Take the phone off the hook and disappear for a while...”

It was a male singing, perhaps a siren? Though he had never met a male siren before.

“It's alright, you can afford to lose a day or two...”

The closer he swam to the shore, the more he could pick up on other voices.

“When will you realize…”

And there they were, long limbs swaying cautiously against each other, dull teeth hidden behind soft smiles and innocent laughter. Their feet were hidden within the ocean despite the light splashing.

And there she was, (h/l) (h/c) hair bouncing idly and her fingers interlacing with another of her species. She was rather beautiful, he thought for only a moment.

“Vienna waits for you...”

More humans came running into the water, two males and a female. And the merman's hazy thoughts were replaced with something more sinister.

Intruders, he told himself, in my waters.

[tofixtheshadows]

can i ask a thing about kabru as an anime-only... it's become kinda obvious at this point that there's a larger explanation for how he behaves that we haven't reached yet, but i was curious specifically in regards to those corpse retrievers that his party came across during their initial introduction. it makes sense that kabru would want to kill them considering their shady dealings, and we know that people in the dungeon can be revived, but his party did throw their bodies in the water afterwards, seemingly so they wouldn't be found and brought back to life? i was kinda waiting for this to be brought up again, but it wasn't...

Sure. The way I see it, the corpse retrievers are a seriously dangerous group playing with other people's lives for profit. Kabru in particular sees this behavior as unforgivable, and looks down on people who treat the dungeon as a "money pit" and not as a deadly threat that needs to be neutralized as soon as possible.

I'll add some visual aid from the manga, since I'm not gonna go hunting for gifs, but I won't include anything past the point we're at in the anime.

This interaction was cut for time, but early in the manga (after the Tentacles chapter), Namari explains the hazards of resurrection to the twins (and the audience):

...which ups the stakes for us during the corpse retriever confrontation, when Kabru says this:

Which shows that the corpse retrievers aren't merely killing people to revive them for profit- already really fucked up- but doing so in such a reckless fashion that they could easily botch the job and end up with corpses unable to be revived. Imagine if this had been Marcille with her trigger-happy explosion spells? They would have bemoaned the lost payday, then probably just looted what was left.

And then their leader tries to rope Kabru in on their murder-for-money scheme, on the guy's own companions, just to get Kabru to keep quiet? Kabru clearly decided these people were too dangerous to live. Before this moment, all Kabru does is say that he's going to report them! He isn't the one who escalates the situation.

And with the threat to report them hanging over their heads like that, I don't think it would have boded well for Kabru's party if they had given the corpse retrievers a chance to be revived and come after them.

Even if they had miraculously decided not to hunt Kabru's party down (which they had already been doing this whole time), they were just going to keep preying on other adventurers, reducing the dungeon's own imported immune system meant to keep the ratio of monsters stable.

Which is not even as bad as it could be.

Making the choice to execute them is harsh, but honestly I can't judge Kabru that much, as a character in a story whose day-to-day includes life-or-death stakes.

In a storytelling sense, it's also helpful to see the way that Kabru is counterbalancing Laios's story: while Laios is journeying through a biological ecosystem and showing us the dungeon as an organism, Kabru shows the audience the human ecosystem that surrounds the dungeon, the political and social machinations working on it, and how these things are just as deadly as monsters. He's a big picture thinker.

More on that in ... a few episodes, probably?

On the off-chance you'd like to read it, the manga is easily accessible in its official translation here and is a very quick read. You can also see about checking it out through your local library; my roommate read it all on her e-reader that way!

I hope I helped!