#i seriously cannot wait for ghosted

[tonycries]

The Heir - G.S.

Synopsis. No, your clan leader husband won’t stop until he gives you an heir. No, you don’t think you’ll make it out alive.

Pairing. Gojo Satoru x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem! reader, clan leader! Gojo, established relationship, he’s cray-cray (for you), bréeding - like a LOT, oral (fem receiving), unprotected, creampíe, marathon, séx, running from it, use of “my wife”, overstim, FÉRAL Satoru, absolutely heinous, mentions of kníves and bIood, pet names, swearing.

Word count. 5.3k

A/N. Guess what ya girlie is back with clan leader Gojo hehe.

An heir to the Gojo clan - no matter how small, how weak - could eradicate all three of the big clans before even being born. Much like their father. 

You knew that. Satoru knew that. And, unfortunately for him, so did the stuck-up old toad currently sputtering across from him. 

“I am not asking for permission.” Satoru smiles, deathly calm. “Simply that everyone vacates the Estate. After all, what the madam wants, the madam shall get.”

“But- but young master! It’s madness- An heir can tip the scales of power like never before!” The elder lunges frantically over the meeting room table. “I cannot allow- a-and considering the madam’s lowly lineage-”

Schwing!

They say that the infamous young head of the Gojo clan has a katana as hauntingly beautiful as he is - a blade of pure white, with a sapphire hilt. Though, there wasn’t anyone left to tell the tale - and Satoru wasn’t about to let that change anytime soon. 

The long, deceptively delicate sword glints sharply against Satoru’s humorless grin, and those cold, cold eyes. Unblinking - crazed, as he hums, “What did you say about my wife?”

The man in front of him can do nothing but yelp in fear, “I- it could- the scale of ah-”

“No.” The freezing cold blade presses deeper against skin. And Satoru’s tutting, “Try again.”

“Th-the madam!” Pathetic tears stain those expensive tatami mats below, every shred of previous ego wiped away as the elder’s forced to echo his words. “It is no lie that her b-background is…unsuitable-”

Oh this was why Satoru hated these meetings - and for once in his life he’d been the one to summon it instead of being forced to attend. What a joke. If only this elder had agreed to vacate everyone in the Estate like he’d wanted, then none of this would’ve happened. Seriously, how hard was it to get some alone time with you? 

Satoru sighs, blue yukata rustling as he grips the hilt tighter. “Do you know why you’re here, advisor? Why any of you little council of elders are still here?” And he doesn’t wait for an answer - couldn’t care less about it anyway. Plowing on in that same sweet, dangerous tone - as if scolding a stubborn child, “My lovely wife is kind, you see. Too kind. Doesn’t like for me to get my hands dirty.”

He lets his arm retract slightly, as if giving up on the conversation topic at hand. And oh for all his wisdom, the elder should’ve known better than to let the silence lull into one of safety. Should’ve known better than to let out a breath of relief. Relaxing - ever-so-slightly, to be stupid enough to mutter, “S-see young master. I told- you-”

Because this was Gojo Satoru, and he’s chuckling - and that was never a good sign for anyone but you. “She’d make such a perfect mother, don’t you think?”

---

SLAM!

You startle - there was only ever one person that dared to kick open the doors of the Gojo Estate that way, like he was out for blood.

Eyes tearing from your window towards the now-splintered doorway and-

Oh. Oh shit. 

Your voice dies in your throat as the metallic tang of blood hits your nose - followed very shortly by the realization that this was your husband. Towering figure leaning against the frame, gaze frantic - bouncing off everywhere but you, fingers twitching on the stained handle of his katana, looking for all the world like he’d seen a ghost. 

What the fuck happened?

“Satoru?” you breathe. And the sound of your voice his eyes finally snap to you - widening, like he’d finally noticed your figure standing there. Like he was seeing you after a thousand years. Stepping forward in concern, “Are you o-”

You’ve barely made it two steps before Satoru’s closing the distance in a split-second, dropping to his knees before you with a harsh thump!

You wince at the sound, but if it hurt then he doesn’t show it. Anything but - in fact, looking more blissed out than you’ve ever seen him as he lets his prized katana clatter to the floor, looping two powerful arms around your waist.

And it’s times like this - when he nuzzles his cheek against your stomach, sighing in contentment - that you forget about those blossoming stains of red on his yukata. None of his, you bet. 

Threading your fingers through his soft hair, you repeat, “Are you okay, Toru?”

And oh. 

Oh, it only takes those words - and your sweet sweet voice - before Satoru’s entire body jolts. Taking a sharp inhale, fingers trembling as they clutch onto the fabric of your yukata. “An heir.” Words strained, ragged. Some deep, visceral part of himself peaking up at you through those hazy, half-lidded eyes, “Would you give me an heir, my wife?”

You weren’t making it out alive. 

You’re gasping - partially because of his words, partially because that’s all it takes for him to yank you down. Sprawling you out like such a slut on the floor. “Wha- an heir?”

It’s not something you expected him to even consider - that sleepy, quiet little pillowtalk from earlier today where you’d mindlessly wondered out loud whether your husband was ready for kids. Hell, Satoru was never a morning person, so you didn’t expect him to even have heard the question let alone this. 

Nosing at your racing pulse, whispering, “An heir. You think I’d ever deny you, pretty?” Like he couldn’t believe it himself - sharp canines nipping at your neck, “My heir.”

It’s like it was the only thing he could say - could even think about right now as his lips burned a path down your jaw, into the valley of your breasts. Muffled, “N’ now we have the Estate all to ourselves, so I can ruin you as much as I hah- want.”

And for the second time today, you’re actually registering that this wasn’t the same yukata your husband had kissed senseless in before the meeting. Or, at least, those patches of red were new.

“Satoru…” You pull his face back.

“No- no no please- Come back-” you squeal when he just drags you across the floor by the hips, pressing you up against that massive bulge, back to sloppily kissing the underside of your jaw. “Was jus’ one I swear- m’sorry about gettin’ the fabric dirty.”

“Satoru.”

“Wasn’t gonna break you where everyone could hear right?” 

And fuck he doesn’t wait to hear a response, no - it’s been far too long, and every little scold from you has all the blood in Satoru’s body rushing to his aching cock. His lips are crashing onto yours, so desperate and needy. 

“Sa-toru!” you manage to squeal through the way he sips at your candied lips. Letting out pained, breathless little grunts like each swipe of his tongue against your mouth was driving him insane. 

“Shhh shhh, m’here m’here.” he pants into your open mouth, hands wandering everywhere. Cupping your ass, your breasts, nudging open your jaw to let him suck so filthily on your tongue. “Fuck- m’here.” He’s licking up the drool pooling at the corner of your mouth already, “N’ m’gonna ruin-” One hand makes its way to palm your clothed cunt, “-her.”

But, alas, no matter how many times Satoru’s done this before - it never gets any easier, or as less heavenly of a sight for him. 

With you all disheveled and splayed out for him, your tits almost spilling out of your yukata with the way his hands have been so greedy. So thoughtless. 

Satoru groans, dipping his head forward to peck messily at your lips. “Mmm- ” Pulling back just enough to mutter, “Gonna let me breed this pretty cunt, hm?” 

It’s all you can do to give him a half-delirious little nod of agreement, lower lip wobbling at just how hungrily he was looking at you. Eyes wide, lips curling into a crazed smile, fingers trembling with anticipation as he deftly works on untying your robe. 

“Is my wife gonna give me a pretty baby?” He gasps out, strangled. “An heir?” He presses a sloppy peck to your glossy lips, strings of spit snapping when he breaks apart to whisper. “One to take out all these dumb fucks?” Again, so dizzyingly. And again. “Oh how I’d love to see their fuckin’ faces.” And again and again and again. Kisses punctuated by that little mantra - “An heir. My heir. I need you to give me a baby, pretty.”

And then your yukata’s being pulled down your shoulders, the expensive fabric ripping down the side with the way he was so ravenous. Goosebumps prickling down your skin as fast as Satoru can get his hands on every inch of you.

“Oh, look at you.” his jaw falls slack, palms kneading at your soft breasts. “Fuck- the mother of my kids.” He rolls his thumb over your hardened nipples, rubbing lazy little circles, “I need to- fuck!” 

Before you know it he’s pinning your arching body down onto the floor. One hand easily pinning down both of yours, the other angling your lips back onto his, a knee wedged between your damp thighs. 

You whine at the feeling of Satoru’s thigh rubbing up against your drenched panties.

But he could barely hear - fuck, you didn’t even know if Satoru was breathing with the way he wraps his pretty pink lips around one of your pert nipples. Eyes rolling to the back of his head, cheeks hollowing as he sucks - harsh.

“Need to fill these up- s’gonna be so sweet. So full.” he’s blabbering into your tits, tongue rolling around your sensitive nipples. Incessant, like he was somehow trying to draw out milk. “I can only hope they hah- share, right?”

You buck your hips up, mewling as your throbbing clit catches on the dips and curves of the muscles on Satoru’s leg. “P-please, Toru. Don’t tease.”

And oh, when has he ever denied you? Hell, Satoru would burn down this entire world and himself if it meant giving his wife anything and everything. Especially the future mother of his kids. 

With a final, playful bite, you watch with glassy eyes at the way he dances his lips down. Slow. Teasing. Eyes locked with you all the while like some sort of predator cornering his prey. 

“And this-” Satoru stops halfway down, pressing a deep, sultry kiss onto your bare stomach, “Oh this. Gonna be so round n’ pretty. Absolutely glowing f’me, right? Fuck!” 

Snapping his head down at the feeling of your grinding your hips so sluttily onto his legs, slick seeping through your panties and onto his skin. 

“Oh.” he sighs, awe-struck. More to himself than you at this point, “You can kill me if you’re not with my heir by the time we’re done, pretty.”

A promise.

And with it went whatever was left of Satoru’s poor sanity - and whatever pathetic chance there was of you making it out of this alive. 

Immediately, Satoru fists your flimsy panties in his grasp. So see-through they were practically useless anyway. Reveling in your panicked little gaze as he pulls - rips them clean off your dripping cunt. 

“Oh god- There we go.” he moans, hooking two arms underneath your legs and pushing up, up, up - all the way until your knees were pressing up against your tits. Your lips wobble when Satoru takes the time to admire your pussy, breaths coming out in feverish little puffs to watch the way you glisten and clench at nothing. Licking his lips - salivating even - at the sight of your slick beading through your puffy folds. He runs a thumb along your sopping wet slit, “Better wish her good luck tonight.”

And, usually, your husband was refined - he teased and toyed with your poor cunt until you were begging to have an ounce of friction. But right now, it’s a wonder he doesn’t get whiplash with how fast he’s pushing his face into your pussy.

“Mm-” Satoru’s eyes roll to the back of his head as his tongue laps at your dripping wet cunt. Tipping his head back, back, back to let your sweet sweet juices slide down his throat. “Fuck that. Even luck won’t save you from me- hah-”

“Toru!” you arch off the cool floor as he cards the tip of his tongue between your puffy folds. From the base of your sloppy entrance, all the way up to your throbbing clit. “Hngh- s’too-”

He was going too fast too soon. 

You whine at the palm pushing your unstable hips flat onto the ground, holding you still while Satoru licks all over as he pleases. “Now now, how are ya gonna ngh- fuck so sweet- handle later if ya can’t even handle this, pretty?”

Sucking on your clit in such a messy, open-mouthed kiss. “Fuck. Shouldn’t have told me about an heir.” he’s murmuring into your cunt. Harsh - rolling his tongue against the sensitive nub in a way he knows will have you crying out so prettily. “Fuuuck you shouldn’t h- oh- Ohhh, look at you, my wife.”, breathing in deep, ragged gasps of air only to go deeper. “Fuck- just look at you. You’re so wet I could fuck you just like this.”

As if to prove his point, he’s urgently bullying the tip of his tongue between your plushy walls. And it was true - so pathetically true. You take him in so easily. 

Somehow, you manage to crack an eye open to spy downwards - only to be met with Satoru’s eyes already on yours. Hazy, curtained by his messy hair, swollen lips curving up to flash you such a devilish grin as he squeezes his tongue past that feeble, first ring of resistance. In and out in and out in and-

“Ohh. Squeezing me so fuckin’ tight.” His jaw grinds deeper, nose flush against your clit. “Ya like that idea? Like the thought of me p-painting ah- slutty pussy white already?”

Your embarrassed little whine isn’t enough of an answer for your husband. No, he’s pressing his fingers - all glossy and covered with a sheen of your slick - onto your pulsing clit. Just barely grazing in a way that has you crying out. 

Making out with your cunt so sloppily, “Tha’s more like it.” Heavy eyes boring into yours - goading, even, for you to give more of a reaction. “Fuck- use those words, pretty. Scream.” Satoru’s fucking into your sloppy hole the way he’s been dreaming to do with his rock-hard cock. “After all, we h-have the Estate all to ourselves, right?”

Faster. Sloppier. 

Pushing and pulling his tongue in a way that has you sobbing, “Yes! Please- wan’- ngh” Thighs squeezing around Satoru’s fervent head, “W-wan you to jus’ breed me, Toru-”

Oh.

Fuck, you might’ve just signed your will away at this point. 

Because in a split-second, you’re cumming. 

Shit, were you glad that there was no one in the house. Sobbing out a broken whine of his name, fingers white-knuckled on Satoru’s hair while you gush all over his pretty face. Just dragging your sloppy cunt all over his mouth - using him through your high. 

And he’s more than happy to be dragged and angled all you please. Greedily lapping up your syrupy sweet juices, just dipping his tongue into your hole to feel the way you clench around him. 

But it’s not long before Satoru’s pulling away. Swallowing a disappointed whine, you gape up at the absolutely feral man looming above you. 

Lips plump and glossy, your juices dripping all the way down his chin, his jaw. Teeth bared, a pretty pink blush dusting over those cheeks - and you have half the mind to wonder how high the kill count actually is. Whether you’d be on it, too. 

“Heh, kill count?” Satoru grins, teeth grazing so dangerously over your racing pulse. Shit, did you say that out loud? “Funny, real funny.” And with that, he’s thumbing apart your swollen folds, biting his lips at the sight of your quivering hole. “Wonder if our- hah- kid’s gonna have your-” Without warning, he spits. Once. Twice. Gliding the pads of his fingers along the thick globs of spit on your cunt, “-humor?”

And oh how ironic it was for Satoru to be groaning out sweet little spiels of what your kids might look like, when his fingers were anything but. 

Stretching out your gummy entrance, having the audacity to laugh - laugh - at how desperately your pussy was trying to milk his fingers. 

“Y-you’re so mean-”

“And yer killin’ me- ohhh you’re gonna be the death of me.” he mutters - strained. Depraved. Hastily pushing apart his yukata. He hisses, “Fuck-”

You can’t help but gasp at the sinful sight before you - Satoru’s blush reaches down his sculpted chest, down, down, down all the way to his painfully hard cock. Curved against his abs, already so angry and soaked with precum. Giving you a pretty little peak of those veins glistening against the dim lighting. 

Before you even know what’s happening, he’s circling his fat, weepy head around your sloppy hole. Slow, lazy patterns to tease your cunt. “Can only pray m’not dead before I see ngh- fuck- my heir.”

It’s like something breaks. And Satoru’s remembering that no, this isn’t just any child - it’s the next Gojo. That grip on the base of his swollen cock tightening when he slips past your pussy lips. 

“Oh! Toru- f-fuck wait s’too big-” you keen, nails digging into where his yukata was sliding off his milky, sculpted shoulders. Hard enough to break skin. “It’s ah-”

“No.” he spits into your sagging mouth. “No no no no- wait fuck- ngh squeezing so fucking- tight.” Hips pushing in quick, shallow little thrusts to squeeze more of his achy head inside. “Fuck- fuck fuck fuck hold on. Need this. Need this so bad- please!”

And you can’t do anything but arch into his touch, scrambling up onto your elbows to- shit, that was a bad idea. 

Because one look at the sight of your poor cunt, all bulging and stretched out on Satoru’s massive cock was enough to have you running away. 

You’d barely made a movement to escape, feet flattening on the floor to buck your hips because shit it was too much. And it was a useless effort, anyway, because Satoru’s dragging you back so easily, pulling your limp body deeper down his swollen cock. 

“Need this. Need this need this so bad, pretty.” he groans, barely even halfway in yet. Still pushing, still relentless. “Need to breed this cunt so bad.”

Some tiny, useless part of Satoru’s rationality knows that he should slow down - maybe give you a second to relax. To maybe even breathe. But he was out of control now, hips stuttering and wrenching forwards like he couldn’t stop. 

So he’s simply gripping onto your shaky thighs harder, sure to leave neat little indents of his nails to admire tomorrow - or, whenever he gets back his sanity, that is. 

Satoru hisses at the way you’re so pliant below him. Limp, letting him rest your legs on his muscled shoulders. “Think I needa manhandle ya more often, pretty.” Pressing down, down - all the way until you were folded in half beneath him in such a mean mating press. “Can’t- can’t stop-”

The change in angle makes you scream out Satoru’s name - and it makes him bottom out. Finally. 

Fuck, you weren’t making it out alive.

“Oh.” he grunts at the feeling of his heavy balls smacking against your ass, his fat, leaky tip kissing against your cervix. God, if Satoru was any less of a man he thinks he could’ve cum just from the feeling of you trying to suck him up already. 

“Oh- oh my god-” you gasp when he presses down about halfway down your stomach, Pressing down for that bulge, hard. “You’re in s-so deep ngh- S’like you’re pushing into my ngh- lungs.”

Fuck, if you talked any more with that pretty mouth then Satoru was bound to pass out. Blindly, he’s feeling for your pouty mouth, kissing and nibbling at your wobbling lips like a subconscious apology. For what was to come, that is.

Because Satoru Gojo spares no apologies when he starts moving - finally. Finally fucking you the way he’s been dreaming of all throughout that droning meeting. 

And he says so - a little over fifteen times, in fact, while he splits you apart on his cock. 

“-n’ when I was negotiating those ngh- c-clan deals. N’ when I was at that meeting-” he gasps, shoving your legs so far apart it burned. “S’all I could hah- think of. Everything - don’t give a fuck if I got a contract wrong.”

Each word was punctuated by a rough, harsh ram of his cock, stretching out your gummy walls so far apart like he wanted to make his mark there. Pushing - even when he could feel his aching tip nudging at your cervix.

So merciless - violent even - with the way he’s slamming back into you. Molding your plushy walls to every ridge and curve of his massive cock. It was impossible to even form coherent sentences with his harsh pace. 

A large hand flattens beside your head as Satoru’s thrusts get deeper. More purposeful. You almost sob at the sheer pressure when he dances his fingers down to rub quick, methodical little circles on your clit. “Toru-” you moan, like a prayer. “M-more.”

But it wasn’t enough.

“More.” Satoru breathes, more to himself than anything. And shit at that very moment you almost understood why even the most hardened of clan leaders feared to even look at Gojo Satoru wrong. Because he was giving you a sopping, fucked-out smile, eyes widened, voice trembling, “You want more?”

And of course this was the strongest. Of course, he was ruthless. 

Of course, it takes him exactly two seconds to pull out of your heavenly cunt and flip you onto your stomach. One hand coming under you to angle your hips up until you were on all fours - like some ragdoll. The other feverish, distracting on your clit while he bullies his achingly hard cock past your sopping entrance once more. 

“Fuck!” your voice is hoarse when you scream. Teeth gritting because fuck the stretch was too sinful and Satoru’s hips were too harsh. Too hellbent on fucking into you like he’d lost control. “O-oh please, Toru-”

He doesn’t waste time easing you into it this time, picking up where he left off with that maddening cadence. And you were glad he had an arm on your hips because your knees were weakening with each thrust, slowly sliding down the floor before-

“Aw, my poor girl.” you hear Satoru coo from above you. Muscled chest rubbing up against your back, “S’alright. M’gonna take care of it. You jus’ hafta take it- jus’ take it like the good lil’ wife you are.” his body bows into yours, strands of white sticking to his forehead. “N’ I’ll take fuck fuck fuck- care of everything.” So sloppy with his rhythm, pushing you further and further up the floor with each movement - only to reel you right back so easily. “I’ll wash ‘em and hah- clothe ‘em n’ t-teach ‘em to take over this godforsaken society. To protect their momma.”

“T-Toru-” you squeal as he only gets more erratic. “I’m…”

“Hm?”

He didn’t even have to ask - he could feel the way you were squeezing so hard around him, like you were trying to suck the fucking soul out of him. The way the only thing you could get out was his name. 

His perfect wife. 

Sobbing out, “Close! So close. Wan’ cum- Ah! Please-”

He was losing his fucking mind. 

Biting down so hard at the crook of your neck to keep himself from cumming before you, he moans deliciously, “Then cum. Fucking cum. Please- wan’ you to cum on my cock.” Wrists aching with how desperate he was moving, “Cum- yeah yeah yeah fucking- cum- Cum for your husband.”

Oh, if heaven was real then whatever was left of that part of Satoru that could still form coherent thoughts knew that this was it. 

Watching you fall apart like such a slut all over his cock. Not even realizing it at first - just that your eyes are rolling to the back of your head, swollen lips falling slack, letting out such a pretty cry of his name that he can’t help but cum, too. 

You don’t know who’s more far gone - you, with your head spinning, a lewd little ah! ah! ah! leaving your mouth each time Satoru fucks you through your high. 

Or him, gushing out in thick, hot ropes of cum that overspill from your snug cunt. 

“So muchhh.” you whine, heavy head being held up by your husband. “S’too much.”

And he knew what you were talking about - because Satoru was cumming and cumming and cumming so hard it was like he couldn’t stop. Didn’t want to stop. Because he was mesmerized by that creamy trail of white drooling down your folds, forming an obscene ring at those tufts of white at his base. 

“Too much?” Satoru hisses. “Too much?”

You can only give a barely-lucid nod, whimpering when he doesn’t ease up. Not one bit, in fact, Satoru was only abandoning the hand playing with your ravaged clit to press down on your abdomen. Hard. 

“There we hah- go. Better now?” The hand supporting your head forced you to look down below, at the sticky mess of white covering your cunt. Slobbering all over Satoru’s cock - even down to his thighs. “Now we got fuck- more space.”

You don’t even realize you’re scrambling away until Satoru gasps, panicked, “No no no- we’re not done, pretty. Fuckkk we’re far from done.” Fingers tightening around your neck to pull you deeper down his cock, holding you in place. Just dragging you along his length. “Gotta make sure it takes. Why else d’you think no one in the Estate will be back until tomorrow?”

He doesn’t wait for a response - not that you could give one, anyway, with how you were being fucked dumb on his cock again. 

A strong, powerful leg hooks around yours, pushing you down with his body weight. “So that we ngh- h-have enough time to prepare for my heir.” Weeping head grazing all those sensitive spots so expertly. “T-to plan and and- ruin you and- fuck you feel so good. They’ll be the most powerful- hah- jus’ watch. Those fuckers better w-wait and see.”

So debauched and fucked-out that you don’t even know what he’s running his mouth about now, just heavy, urgent words slurred into your neck while he fucks you just as sloppily. 

“Don’t know?”

Fuck. You said it out loud again. 

And the embarrassing realization has your eyes screwing open, gazing tearily back at an amused Satoru. Well, as amused as he could be when he was just as wrecked as you. 

Kissing your sweaty forehead, hips reeling back all the way until your cunt was missing the stretch - bucking traitorously against the fat mushroom tip grazing your entrance. Making a mess of precum down below.

“S’alright, pretty.” he groans, sandwiching his cock between your puffy folds. “Because you just have to sit there n’ ngh- take- it.”

If you thought that Satoru was broken before then he was absolutely ruined now. 

Because there was no reason or rhythm to his actions now - just mindless, feral movements to milk his cock as much as he physically could on your pussy. Running only on pure need and the thought of you round and so full with his kid. 

“Ah!” you’re startled out of your reverie by something wet. Whirling sluggishly to catch the tears of overstimulation brimming at Satoru’s heavy eyes - shit, you wondered if he even knew what he was doing at this point. “T-Toru…you- ngh- o-okay?”

The only response you get is an unsteady nod. 

“-the best.” he whispers, twitching balls squeezing so painfully with each slap against your ass. Faster. Absolutely soaked with the sinful concoction of your juices and his cum. “We’ll be the best parents- ngh-” And fuck it was so much - too much. Too good. Painful pleasure.

Enough that all it takes is another, sloppy thrust before he’s seeing stars behind his eyes again. Cock twitching wildly inside your cunt as Satoru shoots load after load of cum to paint your pussy white. 

So warm with his cum - him - that Satoru’s body moves before his mind. Pooling the mess down below to nudge back into your cunt. “C’mon, pretty, c-can’t get ngh pregnant if ya don’t oh- cum.”

And it’s so embarrassing how that’’s all it takes for you to reach your high with a strained, barely audible moan. Voice shot, your own orgasm nothing but a few tingles that have your thighs fucking back into Satoru’s. 

“Satoru- Satoru Satoru Satoru.” you mewl, big fat tears streaming down your cheeks. Birds of a feather, they say. 

Hypnotized. Drunk off the feeling.

And, evidently, Satoru was, too. 

“Pretty…” his voice rings in your ear. Tinged with a tone you know didn’t bode well for you - or your poor, overfilled cunt. Bloated and dribbling already. “Are- sure- ngh-” 

And with a jolt, you realize he’s still moving. Still pushing and pulling in languid, slow strokes. Thighs shaking as the fatigue wears on him. 

If anyone saw Satoru like this, they’d have a heart attack. Flushed your favorite shade of pink, the lower half of his body well covered with a sheen of your obscenities. Eyes teary with sensitivity, cock still twitching and so angry as he clears his throat and tries again, “Are we- hah- sure it took?”

“Wh-what-” you gasp, breathing in big, deep inhales. “Yes- yes yes- oh my god it’won’t-”

“It will.” Satoru’s interruption almost comes out as a whine. And he’s more sluggish, dazed when he flips you over onto your back again - not too difficult, with the way you were practically splayed out already. “Th-this pussy is made to take it, right? T-to be bred by me?”

It’s almost like Satoru was begging for confirmation, plugging back in the excess of what was leaking out of your abused pussy. It was spreading in a lewd little pool now, seeping into the non-existent space between you two.

But oh how Satoru loved it. Couldn’t tear his eyes off of it, in fact as he noses at your neck. Barely even thrusting anymore, just raw grinds, “Right? Gotta make sure- ngh- heir. Oh-”

He’s darting his tongue out to lick at the beads of tears streaming down your cheek. The salty taste on his tongue having Satoru’s hips stuttering forwards. Again. And again - alternating, not on purpose - between hitting your cervix and that bruised g-spot. “Gonna give me an heir? Ohhh fuck fuck fuck- lemme breed this cunt?”

You’re using up every bit of energy left in your body to give that slow, shallow nod. Which is all the time it takes for the pool to spread even wider. For Satoru’s fingers to stumble their way back to play with your clit. 

Rolling his thumb over in a harsh, uncalculated pattern - if you could even call it that, just jerky, obscene movements to get you off. 

And it works. Hell, the two of you are barely in the state of mind to even feel it. But he’s finally cumming again, and so are you. 

“Ngh- Fuck-”

With a loud, pained cry Satoru tightens his grip on your body like a vice. Raw, sensitive, overusing his cock until it felt so empty. Until you felt so bloated it was like you could explode - or maybe that was your own orgasm. “Toru- c-cumming.”

You’re not sure, anymore. And you don’t know if either of you could bring yourselves to care at this moment, not when your eyelids grow heavy. Vision tinging with black in the corners, and the only thing you could see was your husbands face - sweaty, eyes almost closed, kiss-bitten lips moving in a soundless whisper.  “-the best- momma.”

A/N. CLAN LEADER GOJO SAVE MEE. Oh yeah the “can’t get pregnant without the momma cumming” bit was based on this old tale I’d heard where people used to gen believe that. 

Plagiarism not authorized.

[nightblackowlbat]

Soulmate AU Dead on MAYn 25 day 1

Trope: Ghost culture is weird

Word: Bones

Scenario: Jason meets Dany as a ghost

Dialogue: “Wait, you can see me?”

Ever since Danny’s soulmate words came in, his parents’ attitude towards ghosts had done a 180. After all, what else but a ghost would say something like “wait, you can see me?” as an introduction? And if their perfect boy’s soulmate was a ghost, then ghosts couldn’t be all that bad. Jack and Maddie were soulmates after all, and they would never dream of trying to keep their son from his fated other half. (Maddie had the question “did you just build a spirit box out of a crockpot?” along her inner arm and Jack had “Obviously!” Stamped on his forehead.)

All that’s to say that the Fentons were no longer obsessed with catching any old ghost to study. No, instead they were obsessed with catching Danny’s soulmate to add them to the family. It made things pretty awkward when the portal opened up and the Fentons chased down every ghost to introduce their son, only to find Danny gone at the last minute and Phantom appearing to chase the other ghost back into the zone.

Danny was just about ready to die again of shame when Jack brought up the possibility that Phantom was his shy yet jealous soulmate, not ready to meet him yet but hating the idea of Danny meeting any other ghost first. Luckily Jazz pointed out that since Danny’s words were “wait you can see me?” It implied that his ghostly soulmate was a much weaker, invisible ghost that would only appear outside of Amity. Danny had never appreciated his big sister so much. He carefully didn’t mention that Phantom could go invisible at will.

Alas, one cannot stop a determined Fenton couple, only redirect them. Which is why they were on this grand family road trip to visit every cemetery and graveyard in America. Or at least, have Danny visit them. Jazz once again came in clutch insisting that nobody needed their whole family hovering around as they met their soulmate and demanded the parents visit colleges with her while Danny explored graves on his own.

Danny didn’t mind really, wandering around graveyards was far from the worst way his parents could have made him spend his summer. Besides, cemeteries were peaceful, beautiful even. And meeting (and teasing) the few ghosts who actually stuck by their graves was nice. Hey, as an obsession based ghost it was his right to poke a little fun at those boring graveyard ghosts who just stuck around their bones.

“Are you seriously haunting your own grave? I’m not sure I can think of anything more cliche and that’s coming from a ghost who goes by Phantom.” Danny tossed out as his usual cheeky introduction.

The ghost whirled around with a look of shock on his face. “Wait, you can see me?”

Danny felt his soul mark burn and his jaw dropped in mirrored shock. “Well I’ll be darned!” He laughed out loud. “I guess this trip wasn’t useless after all. Nice t’meetcha soulmate! I’m Danny.”

The ghost huffed. “Oh a’course I only meet my soulmate once I’m dead. Shouldn’a ‘spected any different given my weird ass words.”

“Uhm, I’m guessing you’re Jason? Or do you have a dead name you’d rather go by?” Danny nervously asked.

“Isn’t that an oxymoron? No one wants to go by their dead name. That’s the whole point.”

“Oh! Ghost culture is weird. Dead name means something different. It’s- a ghost’s dead name is who they want to be in death rather than who they were in life? Hmm. No, that’s not quite it. It’s who they always were, just crystallized and purified from everything that tainted it in life. Like, it’s who you are without life getting in the way.”

“Then. I guess I’m Robin. He can’t take that away from me now that I’m dead, now can he?”

[ih8simps]

If Only You Knew

Ok imagine having a one nightstand with frat boy gojo and then you ghost him.

It’s not intentional. You don’t truly mean to do it. It’s just that you didn’t take him seriously. You thought it was just sex and nothing more. Well not really just sex, it was the best dicking down you've ever had but you thought that's just what frat boy gojo does every weekend.

You don't know it, but that was the best night of frat boy gojo's life. He finally got his hands on that pretty quiet girl that seems to be in all of the same lectures. He's had his eyes on you since the second week of classes and hes just been patiently waiting for you to walk through the doors of the frat house. Its where he feels the most confident and in his element.

On the faithful night you make your way through the red frat house door frat boy gojo is almost sure he must be hallucinating. Hes not sure if its the lights from the neon signs or the headlights of the uber you just got out of, but he swears you are glowing. Your eyes sweep over the room and for a moment he thinks you are making eye contact with him. His heart leaps into his throat and he lifts his hand to wave you over but then he realizes you are making eye contact with one of his frat brothers, chapter president, Nanami.

Frat boy gojo cannot help but stare as you talk to Nanami about (what he figures out) your physics lecture. Nanami says something, frat boy gojo doesnt really care about the words he is saying, but it makes you laugh. Hard. The beautiful sound of your laughter makes his own face break into a smile.

"Which one do you want to fuck more?"

"What?!" frat boy gojo whips around and finds Suguru standing next to him with a smirk on his pale face.

"Be serious" frat boy gojo mutters, making sure to not take his eyes off of you or Nanami. He may not look it, but Nanami was known as a ladies man by all accounts. He was nearly infamous for the escapades that went down in his room after parties like this.

"You should go talk to her before Nanami snags her. You know what he does to women"

"Who says I want to talk to her?"

Suguru spares a glance at his best friend. "Fine man. I mean if you aren't interested"

Frat boy gojo finally turns to fully look over at his friend "Don't you fucking dare"

Suguru throws his hands up in surrender. "A joke" he chuckles. "Seriously, y/n is cool. Go talk to her"

"Y/n" frat boy gojo mutters your name. Of course he's known your name for quite some time. He's just never let himself utter it, worried he might become addicted to the taste of it on his tongue.

"Hey". Its you. You just came over to him. You are talking to him. He cant quite find his voice or use his vocal cords for a moment.

Suguru fills the air with a chuckle. "Hey, y/n. I was just telling my friend Satoru here that you're pretty chill"

You smile at this and look to frat boy gojo for confirmation. His tongue still feels like lead but he croaks out a "pretty" with a smile on his face.

You laugh at this. The sound of your laughter fills gojo with the confidence to actually speak to you more, in hopes of hearing that laughter again.

At some point Suguru excuses himself from the conversation. You end up talking to frat boy gojo for hours finding out that, to your surprise, you have the same major. Not only do you have the same major but you have a few lecture hall classes together. Frat boy gojo feels a pang of hurt at the fact that you never noticed him in any of the classes when he cant help but notice you everywhere on campus.

You ask him for his number to exchange class notes and he fumbles pathetically to pull his phone out of his pocket. "Text me any time" he says, with a confident smirk spread across his plump pink lips.

"I'm a horrible texter" you admit.

"You call me then. Again, any time"

"Thanks, Satoru"

Its the first time he's ever heard you say his name and he swears he would give up his lifes savings just to hear you say it one more time. Something within him gets bold after hearing the way his name sounds rolling off your tongue. He needs to hear it again. He needs to hear you say it, whisper it, scream it. His need makes him bold.

"Hey, do you want to come to my room" he blurts out.

Its silent for a beat too long between you and he's sure he's lost you. You probably think hes some kind of creep. But before his thoughts can completely spiral you reply a curt "yes".

Frat boy gojo takes you to his room and in a blur you're both naked and writhing against one another. He swears he sees heaven that night. But when he wakes up in the morning you're gone.

He waits a few days for you to text or to call or to acknowledge him in any way, but you don't. To make matters worse its midterm season and everyones busy with studying. He can't corner you or confront you after classes because you've been staying behind to speak with professors. A weekend or two pass and then spring break rolls around. Gojo waits, patiently for you to text him but you never do. He decides three days into break that the moment you are both back on campus he is going to confront you. He needs to know why you'd literally change his world, all in one night, and then never reach out to him again. He needs to hear your excuse for ghosting him and maybe feel you against him again.

What frat boy gojo doesn't know is that the number he hastily typed into your phone that faithful night was wrong. You'd texted and called that number more than once to no response. You thought you just got the frat boy special and let it go. You figure it must not have been that serious to frat boy gojo. If only you knew.

[hanniebaeee]

Not Your Type

Hyunjin x fem!reader

Warnings: Nothing much

Genre: strangers to lovers, fluffff, angst

Summary: He saves you from trouble. And you fall head over heels. You're a rich girl, he's struggling to make ends meet. But love knows no bounds right?

a/n: Ok, so this turned into a whole Kdrama 🤣 But I love this Jinnie so much omg 🥺 I usually don't post on Mondays, but here it is 🤷‍♀️

You knew this dress was a mistake. You hated it the moment your mum shoved it into your hands and demanded you to wear it. 

A shimmery, black number with a cut so high on the thigh you might as well have just worn some glitter and called it a day. But no. This was mum's way of nudging you not so subtly into the marriage market, hoping that some future business heir from this high-society party would take an interest.

And if that dress wasn't enough, your mum had the nerve to slide next to you and poke your ribs with her elbow and say, “Smile, darling. You look like a corpse in designer wear.”

So you gave a withering glare and you left. Stomped out. Heels clicking against the marble dramatically until they clicked on the road dramatically.

You had walked a long way until you registered the silence. You stopped short, swallowing as you took in your surroundings. A quiet alley. Dark.

The moment the reality of your situation crashed in in the form of a shadow in the dark, your knees were already shaking. Literally.

You turned and started speed walking - as fast as those cursed heels let you - but you could hear heavy footsteps behind you, closing in fast. 

Of course this was the perfect time and outfit for a creepy stalker to take interest in you. Of course. The night you looked like an expensive, trembling snack in five-inch heels.

“Hey, princess,” the voice rasped behind you.

Shit.

But before you could even gasp, another figure stepped in between you and the stalker. Tall. Long limbs. Broad shoulders in a dark hoodie. Short dark hair. And cold.

His gaze flicked lazily to your stalker. And he took a step forward. 

“Leave,” he said, voice low and calm. “Now.”

The creep stammered. Blinked. And to your surprise, turned and ran.

Silence.

Then the stranger’s eyes slid to you. You were frozen - heart pounding and barely breathing.

“You’re not from here.” He stated, voice flat.

His gaze ran down your dress - slow and unbothered - and back up. And then he sighed. 

“What kind of idiot walks through this part of the city dressed like that?” Another glance at your outfit. “You’re lucky he was a coward.”

“I wasn’t exactly planning to get stalked, thanks.” You bristled. 

His brows lifted the tiniest bit as he said, “And yet here you are.”

“What’s it to you?” you snapped, crossing your arms.

“Nothing, actually.” He said, and turned like he was about to leave.

“Wait!” you blurted. “Please don't leave me here!”

He stopped and sighed again.

“Where do you live?” You swallowed and told him.

“That's not too far.” He said. “Come on, I'll walk you.”

He started walking, not waiting for you. The nerve. The absolute nerve. You wanted to throw a tantrum right there, but you hurried after him, heels clicking. 

“You know, you could be nicer to the girl you just saved.”

“Oh so I have to save you, and be nice to you. And anything your highness?” 

Your heart flipped. But you caught yourself, but not fast enough, unfortunately, because you were pretty sure that you just imprinted on him like a damn baby duck. 

“Do you treat all damsels like this?” you muttered.

He snorted, the tiniest, briefest smirk ghosting his mouth. “You’re no damsel.”

Damn right. 

“I cannot stop thinking about him.”

“You’re still on this? Seriously?” Your cousin Minho groaned loudly from your bed, face buried in a silk pillow. 

Jeongin, your best friend, didn’t even look up from his phone, as he said, “What’s his name again?”

“I don’t know,” you whined, flopping dramatically onto the bed. “That’s the problem. He saved me from that creep. He was gorgeous…like a fallen angel in a hoodie.”

“Or like a potential criminal.” Minho snorted.

You threw a cushion at him. “Don’t ruin this for me.”

Jeongin sighed deeply, finally looking at you. He was the picture of a perfect young businessman. Perfect black hair. Rolex watch. Already CEO of his father’s company.

“Babe. Seriously. Why him?” he asked. 

“Because,” you huffed, rolling over, “he didn’t care about me. He didn’t even look impressed. Or starstruck. Or interested. Like I was just... normal.”

Minho lifted his head, looking scandalized. “God forbid.”

You pointed at Jeongin. “You. You can find out who he is. I know you can. Call Seungmin and find out for me, please, Innie.”

Jeongin squinted at you like you’d grown two heads. And you'd mentioned Seungmin - Jeongin’s friend (your short term fling from your uni days), and also a lawyer, who had the necessary “contacts”. 

“You want me to run a background check on the stranger who saved you in a back alley? With the help of your ex.” Jeongin repeated. 

“Obviously. He isn't my ex, he's just -”

“Babe. You cannot be serious.”

You flopped again, more dramatically this time.

“Innie, this is a life and death situation.” You stared at the ceiling with a sigh. “I want him.”

Minho sat up and hit you with a pillow. “You are unhinged.”

Jeongin stared at you for a moment and then sighed like his soul was leaking out of his body.

“I cannot believe I’m doing this,” he muttered, pulling out his other phone - the shady one. The black one you weren’t supposed to know existed.

“Jeongin!” Minho gasped. “No. Don’t encourage her insanity, so quickly.”

“She’s going to make me anyway,” Jeongin grumbled, typing furiously. “Might as well get it done before she sells her watch to hire a private investigator.”

“That was one time!” you cried.

“Princess. What exactly are you planning when I do find him?” he asked, glancing at you over the screen.

You grinned, wicked and sure.

“Oh, I’m going to marry him. Oh my God.” you squealed and tackled Minho into a hug as he flailed. 

“She’s going to eat this poor man alive.” he wheezed as he wrestled you away.

—

A few hours later:

Jeongin stood in front of you, holding his tablet like it was the Holy Grail.

“I found him.”

You sat up so fast your hair smacked Minho in the face, and he made a disgusted sound, shoving you away.

“Tell me everything,” you gasped.

“Name - Hwang Hyunjin. Lives in a terrible part of town with his single mother and little sister, Yeji - high school, smart kid. He works two jobs. Day shifts at a garage. Night shifts at a diner near the river.” Jeongin read out. 

“Criminal record?” Minho asked, sitting up.

“None. Not even a parking ticket.” Jeongin scrolled. “Guy’s clean. Like... painfully clean. His school record? Top of his class. Wanted to go to art school. Didn’t. Had to stay and take care of the family ‘cos dad's not in the picture, and mum's a bit poorly to work.”

You were silent. Too silent.

Jeongin looked up as he said, “No mob ties. No arrests. He’s just... broke. Really broke. But responsible. Works like a dog to keep his sister in school. And keeps weird rich heiresses safe from creeps, apparently.”

You stared. Heart pounding.

Minho squinted at you. “Oh no.”

“I love him,” you whispered.

Minho threw his arms up. “Jesus CHRIST -”

“I knew he was good.” You grabbed a pillow, hugging it to your chest. “I knew it. I could smell it. Like... honour. And a bit of tragedy.”

“Princess, no.” Jeongin pointed sharply at you. “You can’t ‘love’ someone because you read a background check. That’s insane.”

“I can and I do.” You grinned, full teeth. “I’m going to marry him.”

“Stop. Stop this immediately.” Minho said, shaking his head. “If your mum finds out-”

“Marry him. Have his babies. Take care of his family.” you ranted. 

“You’ve lost your mind,” Minho said, dragging a hand down his face. “Jeongin, you broke her.”

“Babe. You can’t just... show up in his life. You’re from this world.” He gestured grandly around your room. “He’s from a place where if rent is late, the landlord screams through the walls.”

You just smiled.

“All the more reason I want him.”

Minho groaned. Jeongin groaned harder. You flopped back on the bed, sighing dreamily.

Hwang Hyunjin. Beautiful. Big sad eyes and rough hands and a world you weren’t supposed to touch.

The bell above the greasy diner door chimed when you pushed it open. God. It smelled like fried onions and floor cleaner in there.

“Okay, princess,” Jeongin’s voice crackled through your AirPods. “Go seduce the poor man.”

“I hate this,” Minho groaned. “This is actual social suicide. She’s going to die.”

“Shut up, both of you,” you hissed under your breath, sauntering toward the counter. “He’s here. I see him. Oh my God, he's such a dream.”

Hyunjin stood behind the counter, white apron on, sleeves rolled up to his elbows and head down as he wiped the counter with a rag.

He glanced up, saw you, froze and narrowed his eyes.

You had half a mind to scramble from there, but you took in a deep breath and walked up to him, sat on the cracked red bar stool and smiled at him.

“Ohhh it’s you,” you said aloud, and heard snickering from your idiot friends on the other side. 

“What are you doing here?” Hyunjin asked. 

“Just here for some coffee-” you said, smiling like a maniac.

Silence. He looked you up and down like you’d fallen from space.

“Coffee,” he repeated slowly. “Here?”

“This is so bad,” Minho whispered.

Hyunjin folded his arms, apron tugging tight.

“Not really your type of place, princess,” he said coolly. “We don’t serve sparkling water or gold-dusted lattes, in case you got lost.”

But you didn't hear half of what he said because you were gazing at him with those big eyes, pupils blown wide and a soft blush covering your cheeks. 

“You’re perfect,” you said without thinking.

“Oh my God,” Jeongin shrieked. “BABE HE JUST INSULTED YOU!”

Hyunjin blinked and frowned as he asked, “What?”

“I…uh…I heard the coffee’s good here!” you yelped. “Just wanted to try it. I love coffee. And local businesses, you know. Love them.”

“Oh for fucks sake,” Minho said, cringing on your behalf.

Hyunjin sighed and turned, grabbing the ancient coffee pot.

“She’s gonna drink that sludge and die,” Minho whispered gleefully.

“Babe, you can still run, he’s not watching,” Jeongin said.

Before you could say anything, a chipped mug slammed in front of you. Hyunjin leaned in, eyes sharp.

“Drink.”

You blinked up at him and then lifted the mug. Taking a deep breath, you sipped. And nearly died. It tasted like nightmares and tar. 

Jeongin snorted as he said, “Want me to call an ambulance?”

Hyunjin watched your struggle, his mouth quirking - just barely - as you forced it down.

“Good?” he asked. 

“Delicious,” you coughed, smiling like your life depended on it. “Best... best coffee ever.”

He leaned closer, elbows on the counter and his eyes burned into yours.

“Why are you really here, princess?”

“Oh my God,” Jeongin gasped. “He’s onto you. Abort! Abort!”

“Maybe I like the view?” you offered in a small voice. 

Minho made a dying seal noise and said, “NO. You did not just say that.”

Hyunjin gave you a suspicious look. 

“Try not to choke on it,” he muttered, sliding the sugar jar toward you. “Can’t have you dying here. Bad for the business.”

You nodded, stirring sugar into the horror coffee.

“She’s gone. This is the end. She’s ruined.” You heard Minho groan as Jeongin laughed.

You took another sip, and grimaced. Ok, so you can't do this. Not another sip. So you pushed the awful cup away.

“Ugh. You win,” you huffed, looking up at Hyunjin. “Fuck the coffee.”

Hyunjin leaned on the counter, arms folded, a slow amused smile tugging at his mouth. He looked like he was trying not to laugh.

“You think?” he drawled. “Told you it was bad. But you rich types always gotta try things for the thrill, right?”

You pouted, feeling your face heating up. 

“No,” you said loudly, with your heart in your throat. “It’s not the coffee.”

His brow arched, his eyes daring you to speak. 

“I like you, okay?” you blurted. “I really do. You’re the first person I’ve actually liked in…God, forever. And I don’t know how to play the cute, coy girl. So there. I like you.”

The air froze between you as Hyunjin blinked and stared like you’d just spoken parseltongue.

“What?” he said flatly.

“I like you.”

His mouth twitched - but not into a smile. But rather into disbelief and cold annoyance.

“Okay. That’s not funny.” He said, his jaw ticking.  “If that's all, you can leave.”

Your stomach twisted. Oh this was all so wrong. 

“I’m not joking,” you said, sitting up straight. “I swear I’m not. I -”

His hand hit the counter, hard. Not loud, but firm - enough to make you shut up.

“This is my workplace,” he said sharply, but his voice didn't raise at all. “Not your playground. I work double shifts to pay for rent. To buy dinner. To keep my sister in school. Not that you’d know what that feels like.”

You flinched.

“I’m not some shiny toy for you to chase when you’re bored,” he bit out, voice tired, but sharp. “So whatever game you’re playing - stop. Get out. And I’ll pretend this whole thing didn’t happen.”

His chest rose and fell fast, jaw tight. His hand gripped the counter like he wanted to break it.

And you - ridiculous, spoiled, hopeless you - just sat there. Heart racing and face hot.  And wanting him more than ever.

“Hyun-”

“Get. Out.” he muttered again, cold, sharp, final. “Please don't play with my life.”

Oh, you weren't doing this. You weren't used to this - being told off for being simply honest. You were so innocent like that. What did you even do wrong? You were in love, was that a crime? 

So you stood and stepped closer, leaning in till his face was inches away from yours. Hyunjin’s body stilled like a wild animal caught in headlights.

And you smiled, slowly and sweetly. Like you knew something he didn’t.

“How dare you. I know you think I'm some deranged rich girl. But you don't get to say things like that just because I'm rich. I'm human too. And,” you whispered. “Just so you know - I’m gonna marry the fuck out of you, Hwang Hyunjin.”

His eyes blew wide, and his mouth parted in barely concealed shock.

“Because I think you're amazing and I'm in love with you,” your voice cracked, but you held on. “I’m gonna marry you. And then I’m gonna show you what I can really do. Just you wait.”

SILENCE.

And then - 

“AAAAAAAAHHHHH -” Jeongin squealed in your ear like a dying dolphin. So damn loud that your eardrum actually rang. “OH MY GOD OH MY GOD OH MY GOD SHE SAID IT - SHE PROPOSED IN A DINER - MINHO SHE PROPOSED IN A DINER -”

Hyunjin was frozen. His jaw moved but no words came out. His pretty mouth opened, closed and opened again. Like you’d broken his entire brain.

“Speechless, babe?” you teased softly, and he blinked - once, twice.

“You’ll see, Hyunjin,” you said softly, the hurt showing on your face for the first time since you stepped into the diner, and Hyunjin swallowed hard. 

You straightened, collected yourself, winked, and sashayed your rich, totally humiliated ass right out of that diner, leaving him gaping like you’d hit him with a truck.

---

You wobbled out of the diner with your heart hammering and your throat burning. Your friends watched as you yanked open the car door - Minho’s sleek black Porsche - and threw yourself into the back seat. 

And burst into tears. Loud, ugly, no dignity left tears.

Minho turned slowly in the driver’s seat and sighed.

“Oh my God,” he muttered, staring dead ahead. “Are you seriously crying over diner-boy now?”

Jeongin popped his head between the front seats, grinning like a gremlin.

“Babe,” he cooed. “Babe no, come on. You killed it in there. It was hot. Honestly I nearly asked for your hand myself.”

You sniffed, wiping your eyes. “He hates me.”

“No he doesn’t,” Jeongin said, climbing fully into the backseat beside you and pulling you into a hug. “He was shook. You fried his brain, babe. He doesn’t know what hit him.”

“He told me to get out,” you wailed.

“Maybe because you proposed like a crazy person, while he was at work!” Minho scolded, grabbing a few tissues out of the box in the dashboard, and offering them to you. 

“Shut up, hyung!” Jeongin snapped. “She’s so brave. She’s a queen. She just confessed her love, that's not a crime!”

You sniffed again, and hugged Jeongin tighter.

“I’m gonna marry him,” you mumbled miserably.

Jeongin grinned wide. “Damn right you are.”

The next morning:

Hyunjin shoved open the garage door - his face dark and tired. Chris, the owner of the garage, glanced up from the ledger he was looking at.

“What's that face for?” he asked, walking around the little counter and walking towards the garage door to swat his younger brother Felix, who was ogling at a girl outside.

“Stop flirting with her, Lix! Her dad’s gonna kill you, and then throw her in a convent. So please get back to -”

“Hyung! She smiled at me!” Felix whined, rubbing his head. “Ahhhh she smiled!!”

Chris glared. “Get back to work, right now.”

Hyunjin sighed loudly and sat down on an old toolbox.

“And you,” Chris said, pointing at Hyunjin. “What happened?”

Hyunjin ran a hand through his hair and mumbled, “She happened.”

“She who?” Felix’s head popped up from behind a car. “The rich girl?”

“That girl,” Hyunjin muttered.

“OHHHHH?”

Hyunjin shot him a look. “Shut up.”

Chris smirked. “And?”

“She came to the diner last night. Said she liked me. Confessed. Right there. And told me she's gonna marry me.”

“Holy shit,” Felix breathed, looking way too excited for someone who just got swatted for slacking.

“And what did you do?” Chris asked, trying to hide the fact that he was trying not to laugh. 

“I may have kicked her out of the diner…and she may have left crying…”

Felix gasped so loud.

“HYUNJIN YOU DON'T MAKE GIRLS CRY!” he scolded, his beautiful face set in a scowl. 

“I had to,” Hyunjin whined. “I’m not dragging someone like that down here. What am I supposed to do, make her eat instant ramen and ride the subway? She’s not built for this life. She thinks she is. But she’s not.”

Chris leaned on a car, eyes wide. “But you like her.”

“What?” Hyunjin said, looking surprised.

“You obviously like her.”

“Maybe.” Hyunjin exhaled, looking pained. “She's adorable, ok? She looks at me with those big sparkly eyes and I'm gone. Like when I helped her with that creep? She looked at me like that. And yesterday? She looked at me like that again, and I wanted to die. I just wanted the earth to open up and swallow me whole, because I know I don't deserve her, but now it's gonna kill me to see her marry some CEO and carry on with her life -”

“Man. You’re so doomed.” Felix said with a grin. 

Hyunjin groaned, covering his face with his hands. 

You were strolling down the street with Minho, sipping on bubble tea, looking totally depressed.  Well, that was until your face lit up like a Christmas tree as your eyes fell on him. Across the street. You gripped Minho's arm so tight, it made him yelp.

“Oh my god, oh my god, Lino look!!’

Minho's eyes followed you. And there came Hwang Hyunjin, with a pretty teenage girl beside him - his sister, had to be - and they were laughing at something.

“He looks so happy. Are you gonna terrify him in the middle of the street, darling?” Minho asked, sipping his coffee.

“I mean, I have say hi to my sister-in-law, don't you think?”

“You're unhinged.”

“I learned from you.” You quipped with a shrug, before waving at Hyunjin. 

He slowed the moment his eyes locked onto yours. And they widened in horror. 

“Hyunjin!” you chirped, and Minho stopped dead beside you. 

Hyunjin froze like an animal in headlights. Again. Yeji blinked up at him and then, across the street at you.

“Who's that?” she whispered, tugging at his sleeve. 

You beamed and bounced across the street with Minho sighing and trailing behind like a weary dad.

“Hi!” you greeted brightly, waving.

Hyunjin rubbed the back of his neck, eyes darting everywhere but your face. Yeji was glancing between you both and her narrowed, seeing her brother’s ears turn a bright shade of red. 

“This is...uh…” Hyunjin coughed. “This is...a friend.”

“A friend?!” Minho hissed in your ear. “When did that happen? When did that happen?!”

You elbowed him sharply, grinning at Yeji.

“Hi, I’m Y/N,” you said, smiling sweetly. “It’s so nice to meet you. You must be Yeji, right?”

Her face lit up as she nodded.

“Oh, your brother talks about you all the time,” you teased, shooting Hyunjin a glance.

He choked.

“I don’t -”

“Oppa, you didn’t tell me you had such a pretty friend!” Yeji giggled and you giggled back - like two old friends already.

Hyunjin’s eyes met Minho's, who stood beside you, utterly silent, sipping his bubble tea with the sourest poker face you’d ever seen.

“Hyunjinnie, how come you didn't invite her over for dinner?” She said, giving Hyunjin a teasing look, and then turned to you and said, “Do you wanna come home for dinner? He’s cooking tonight!”

“No, she doesn’t -” Hyunjin started, panicking.

“Yes I do!” you gasped, clapping your hands. “I’d love to!”

Hyunjin closed his eyes and breathed deeply. Like he was praying to every god he knew. Because honestly, his heart ached seeing that smile on your face.

“It’s nothing fancy, but you’ll come, right? I wanna hear how you met oppa!” Yeji saud and you nodded. 

“Oh, I’ll tell you everything,” you laughed.

“Of course you will. Of course you will.” Minho groaned softly beside you. 

---

You stood in front of Hyunjin’s apartment door with a paper bag in one hand and flowers in the other. You have been standing outside his door for like ten minutes now, trying to gather your thoughts. You were scared to death. You really were. 

You so desperately wanted him to like you, but that sharp stab every time he looked so done with you didn't help. Neither did the butterflies in your tummy. 

Just as you raised your hand to knock, Hyunjin opened the door. Seeing your panicked face, he grinned and leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed across his chest. 

“Were you gonna stand here all night?” He teased and yeah. All that sass and courage leaked out of your body and left the chat real quick.

“I was gonna knock.” You said, indignantly.

“Like you were gonna knock that last five times?”

“Shut up.”

“My home, my rules.”

“Well, it's gonna be mine soon. So there.” you said, you face so close to his, and he looked away, but still had that grin intact. 

But he had to give it to you. You looked like a dream in your pale pink dress, hair loose, face fresh, holding flowers and chocolates like you were here to charm a kingdom.

“Who’s at the door, Hyunjin?” his mother called from the kitchen.

Yeji popped into view behind him, eyes going huge.

“Y/N! Why are you just standing there?! Come in! Mum look!”

You grinned and held out the flowers, just as his mum came into view. 

“For you, princess. And these are for you, Mrs. Hwang. I hope it’s okay.”

“They're beautiful!” Yeji gasped, grabbing them.

Hyunjin stepped back silently, watching you charm his mum and sister. You slid past him with a wink.

“Smells amazing in here. Can I help?” you asked. 

His mum smiled, sweet and tired, and said, “Of course you can help. Hyunjin, give her an apron!”

He fumbled one off the hook, muttering under his breath.

“You really don’t have to -”

“But I want to,” you cut in, tying the apron with a grin. “Tell me what to do.”

And just like that, you were in, chopping garlic beside his mother and stirring soup with Yeji chattering happily beside you. You laughed when his mum teased you about your useless rich-kid knife skills, and showed you how to do it right.

And Hyunjin? He leaned against the counter, watching it all unfold. Stealing glances every moment he could.

He didn’t mean to. He'd promised himself not to dream about something he knew wasn't possible for him. But here you were in his little kitchen, hair in a messy bun, sweating in the kitchen heat, and laughing so sweetly when his mum scolded you for cutting the tofu too thick. And his chest squeezed.

Damn it. You looked like you belonged there. Like you fit. Like you could stay forever. Even though his poor heart screamed the reality. 

Yeji hooked your arm, giggling, telling you some story about Hyunjin, and you laughed, throwing your head back - so unapologetically… you. 

Hyunjin felt his ears burn, and his cheeks burn. His entire body burned. His mother leaned in close to him, smiling.

“She’s sweet,” she said softly. “I like her.”

Hyunjin swallowed hard and shook his head. 

“I’m sure it’s nothing,” he muttered, eyes flicking to you.

“I think you’d be lucky, boy.” His mum patted his arm, and Hyunjin really didn’t know what to say to that.

Because you were stirring soup in his kitchen, smiling like sunshine. And he was already losing this war.

A few weeks later:

Hyunjin had just started his evening shift at the diner and it was unusually quiet, except for the soft clink of cutlery and the low hum of old music crackling from the radio.

Hyunjin wiped down the counter, shoulders stiff, and his eyes tired. And then the doorbell chimed. He looked up expecting his usual trucker gang. But it wasn't them.

It was Jeongin - waltzing in like he owned the place, his silk shirt gleaming. He grinned his beautiful boyish grin as he sat on the exact barstool you had sat on some days ago.

Hyunjin went on to stacking the coffee cups for no real reason, avoiding Jeongin’s eye. 

“Whatever you’re thinking,” Hyunjin muttered without glancing up, “it’s a no.”

Jeongin propped his chin on his palm, and said, “Don’t be like that, hyung. I came for coffee. And maybe to give you some unsolicited advice.”

Hyunjin scowled. “No coffee. No favors. No schemes.”

Jeongin sighed, dramatic as hell.

“You’re so difficult. I get it, you don’t like me, I’m too rich, too flashy, blah blah.” He waved a hand. “But you like her, don’t you?”

Hyunjin froze, the last cup on his stack wobbling. 

“That’s none of your business,” he said quietly.

“Wrong,” Jeongin smiled. “She’s my best friend. It’s exactly my business.”

Hyunjin’s jaw ticked as he gave Jeongin a glare. 

“She shouldn’t be here. She shouldn’t want this. Or me.” He hissed. “She’ll hate this life. Give her time. She’ll wake up.” 

Jeongin leaned forward, and sajd, “She’s not asleep, hyung. You are.”

Hyunjin shot him a warning glance, but Jeongin kept going, softer now.

“You think you’re protecting her. Like she’s some delicate princess in a glass tower.”

Hyunjin frowned.

“But you don’t know her like I do.” Jeongin’s voice dropped, gentle and serious now. “She looks strong and loud and stubborn. I know. But she’s the softest, most breakable thing I’ve ever met. So good. So stupidly genuine. And if it’s not you…” He shrugged. “It’ll be some rich husband. Some billionaire. Yes. You think she deserves that. But do you really want her to have a pretentious empty life? She’ll smile in pretty dresses and die quietly inside. Have you seen her smile, Hyunjin? The one she has when she talks about you? I have.”

The silence stretched between them. Hyunjin put the wobbly cup down and sighed. 

“It’s not fair to her,” he whispered. “I can’t give her anything.”

“Maybe she doesn’t want things, hyung. Maybe she wants you.” Jeongin smiled softly. "Besides, what's wrong in letting her give for a change?"

Hyunjin looked down - his chest feeling tight. Like even breathing hurt. Because no matter how many times he told himself that he can't do this, the way you babied Yeji and cooked with his mum, so many times over the weeks, had his heart completely surrendering to you. 

“She deserves better.” he said, his voice a whisper.

“She deserves what she wants,” Jeongin said gently. “And she wants you.”

The bell above the door jingled again and Jeongin stood, brushing imaginary dust from his sleeve.

“Think about it, hyung.” He smiled, knowing. “She loves you.”

And with that, he left, leaving Hyunjin staring at the cup in front of him. Chipped and old. And wondering if Jeongin was right.

But his thought bubble popped as his phone vibrated in his pocket. He pulled it out, and pressed the phone to his ear, ignoring the ‘no phones during working hours’ policy. 

“Hey mum-”

---

Hyunjin burst into his apartment, panicking. 

“Yeji?”

His little sister sat curled on the couch, face buried in a cushion, sniffling like the world had ended. Their mum stroked her hair gently, looking absolutely worried.

“She won’t talk to me.” she said. “She hasn't said a word since she got home.”

Hyunjin's eyes fell on the big blotches of ink stains on her white uniform shirt, his heart squeezing in worry. 

“Yeji, come on.” Hyunjin crouched beside her. “Talk to me. Who did this?”

She just sniffled. And it hurt Hyunjin more because she was the sweetest child. She knew Hyunjin did everything he could to give her a reasonably good life. He did take up extra work apart from his diner and garage jobs, whenever he could. She hated to burden him. Or their mum. He knew that. 

Hyunjin sighed, dragging a hand down his face.

“Damn it,” he muttered, and grudging, almost desperately, he pulled out his phone.

And did the thing he never thought he'd do. 

---

Twenty minutes later, you blew into the apartment like a spring breeze, in a soft sundress and pretty sandals. And a giant stuffed bunny under one arm.

Jeongin strolled in behind you with grocery bags and the smuggest grin ever as he placed a few tubs of ice cream on the kitchen counter.

“Where’s my baby?” you said softly, kneeling beside Yeji. “Hey, princess. Wanna tell me what happened?”

Yeji peeked out from the pillow, eyes huge and wet. For a long, awful moment - she said nothing. Hyunjin and his mum watched as she quietly stood up, took your hand and led you inside to her bedroom. 

And now, seated on her bed, she held your hand and said, “They...called me poor…said my clothes were ugly. Called me trash... and...and poured ink all over me and laughed at me, because they know I would go back with this shirt again...”

And she broke, his tiny little sobs absolutely breaking your heart. Your eyes went soft as you held her as she cried. You saw Hyunjin peeking through the crack in the door, taking a step back as he saw his sister in your arms. 

Hyunjin's back hit the wall, a hand over his heart as he willed himself not to cry. He felt so terribly guilty.

“Yeji,” you said gently. “Look at me.”

She did. 

"First of all," you whispered, "anyone who says something like that is smaller than a speck of dust. Second, you know what I see when I look at you?"

Yeji blinked.

"I see someone kind. Someone smart. Someone who’s gonna grow up and run the world. And, you should know that bullies always end up in the gutter…at some point of time."

A soft, tiny smile graced her face. 

"There it is," you grinned. "That pretty smile. Just like your brother's."

Yeji laughed a teary laugh and sniffled.

“Of course you'll say that,” she teased in a shaky voice.

Hyunjin heard you laugh, and even through his tears, he smiled.

“Will you allow me to fix this?” you asked.

“Can you?” Yeji's eyes were big as she asked that.

“Of course, you're my family now. And no one messes with my family.”

Yeji giggled softly, and Hyunjin’s heart cracked a little. Then a lot.

“And you have this now.” You plopped the giant bunny into her lap. “Hold on to this, and consider it done.”

Yeji giggled harder and hugged the bunny tight.

You stood, smoothing your dress, and stepping out of the room to find Hyunjin standing right outside. You could see that his beautiful eyes were moist and he was trying so hard to not let it show.

“Don't worry, Hyunjin, I'll handle it.” you said.

“Wait, what?” Hyunjin said, alarmed. “What are you -”

But you were already walking out the door, grabbing Jeongin’s arm like a handbag.

“Let’s go, Innie. We’ve got bullies to end.”

“No violence!” Hyunjin called out. “Y/N!”

You stopped so abruptly on hearing Hyunjin say your name (probably for the first time) that Jeongin walked straight into you and stumbled.

You turned around, trying not to let your emotions display on your face as you said, “Of course not,” 

The next day, when Hyunjin arrived at the principal’s office at Yeji's school, you were already there, laughing with the principal. 

A few teachers and four girls stood by the side, shifting nervously. You were dressed in a dark blue dress, hair styled perfectly, with a smug look on your face.

“Hyunjinnie, come, sit,” you said, and the principal was quickly on her feet, welcoming Hyunjin in like he was the president. 

Hyunjin shuffled in and took a seat next to you, completely lost. And you slid a file across the table toward the principal, and said, “And that is a formal complaint against the girls bullying my sister-in-law. I have such low tolerance to bullying, but obviously you are such a capable educator, I'm sure you'll handle the situation well. If not, I'll have my lawyer pay a visit, since we already know the lowlifes who ignored all the previous complaints -”

The principal shook her head vigorously, and the teachers on the side looked horrified. So did the girls. And Hyunjin was glancing at you and then those teachers with wide eyes. 

“We'll let the principal handle this for now, right, Hyunjinnie?” You said, turning to look at Hyunjin, who nodded and said, “Yeah. Yes.”

“Oh good!” You said, standing up, throwing those girls one last death glare. And Hyunjin stood up too, and followed you out of the office.

“What did you do?” He asked, catching up with you.

“Oh nothing much. Just a few new computers. New library shelves and books, and -” You smiled sweetly. 

“Ohh so you didn't flex your money at all.” Hyunjin rolled his eyes. 

“Oh please. No one messes with my family, babe,” you shot back. “I take my sister-in-law duties very seriously.”

You winked and Hyunjin stared, his heart fully betraying him. Because he was this close to accepting the fact that he was in love with you. 

You turned with a swish and strolled past him like the queen you were.

“See you at dinner, Hyunjinnie.”

He caught your hand, suddenly, and you turned, your eyes falling on his hand and then looking up. 

“Hey.” Hyunjin said, his ears turning red. “Thank you.”

You smiled, a truly lovesick giddy shy smile, and ran off - leaving him standing there. Blushing and breathless. And absolutely, 100%, hopelessly doomed.

---

Later that night:

Dinner was done. You and Yeji were howling with laughter as you told her all about how her bullies begged and apologized. And their mum, smiling as she watched. 

Now as you carried the dishes to the sink, where his mum was washing the dishes, Hyunjin came up to you. 

“Hey,” He muttered awkwardly. “A word?”

Your eyes met, and you nodded, before following him into his room. 

Door closed, and Hyunjin sighed, back to you, hand on the handle, steadying himself.

“Listen, I’m trying to make this make sense in my head,” he began, voice strained. “You can’t just…do things like that. Being here. Charming my mum. Fixing things for Yeji. Make my heart -”

He stopped, and turned. And saw you gazing at him like he was the only star in the entire sky. Like he'd hung the moon. Like you were so gone for him -  it made him absolutely dizzy.

“God,” he whispered. “I can’t do this. I can’t -”

And then he grabbed you, and cupped your face, breathless, and kissed the hell out of you.

No warning, no hesitation, no self control. Just pure unfiltered need. You gasped, and then melted into him, clutching his shirt as he walked you backward to the bed, lips moving together. The back of your legs hit the bed, and you fell back pulling him down with you. And of course -

SQUEAK. The world’s loudest, most traitorous bed squeak.

“Shit -” Hyunjin muttered against your mouth, trying to stop the metal springs from screaming.

“Fuck, they’ll hear -”

You grinned into his kiss, holding on to him tighter. “Hyunjin... they already know...”

He groaned softly, forehead dropping to yours.

“I swear to God, hold still. Or they’re gonna totally misunderstand this.”

SQEEEEAK.

The bed protested again as you shifted deliberately, smug as hell.

His eyes flew wide and he whispered, “Don’t you dare.”

You gave him a wicked grin, your fingers running through his hair now, and his jaw tightened. He closed his eyes as your nails raked over his scalp.

“Woman, you’re going to ruin me.”

“You like it,” you whispered.

He groaned, helplessly and then kissed you again. And you adjusted underneath him and the bed screamed again. 

“We're gonna need a new bed if-” You said matter of factly. 

“Yeah yeah, we do-”

Divider: @saradika-graphics

Tags: @moonchild9350 @velvetmoonlght @hwangjoanna @pixie-felix @sailor--sun @chancloud8 @captainchrisstan @hansmic @emilyywhyy @inlovewithstraykids @my-neurodivergent-world @nightmarenyxx @channie4lifeee143127 @lezleeferguson-120 @silly250 @pansexual-and-eating-pancakes @sammhisphere @soona-huh @princesskrystix

[sillyhanako]

➜﹒ WHO Y0U FOOLIN' ? ★ ⌒⌒

✿﹕WINDBREAKER BOYS : headcanons !! ft. nirei akihiko, hayato suo, haruka sakura, choji tomiyama, ren kaji, mitsuki kiryu and tasuku tsubakino.

✿﹕sfw. // 576 wc

✿﹕notes : inspired by the many hcs i read here and on other platforms! reblogs are appreciated <3

—﹙nirei akihiko﹚: talks to himself

when he isn't present around anyone or if he doesn't want to yap someone's ears off, he tends to talks to himself privately.  either out loud or as an inner monologue.

he finds it easier than talking to a friend since he doesn't get side-tracked with explaining minor events that connect to his idea nor describing people that are unfamiliar to them.

—﹙hayato suo﹚ : photographic memory

i headcanon him as having a very sharp memory, he's always quick to answer if you ask him about what was person X wearing or saying in a certain day.

the same goes for dreams too! He would remember who he saw, what colours their outfit was, the environment he was in, the words spoken by him or by an other individual etc.

—﹙haruka sakura﹚ : uses phone like a grandpa

this isn't really a headcanon but i just wanted to expand on the idea more!

he types with one finger. goodluck trying to text him lol, for the life of him he cannot find the letters he wants to type! which results in one message taking 20 minutes at least.

since he's still getting used to his phone, he finds joy in the little things he can do with it. like downloading games, watching videos, taking pictures, customizing his home page etc..

—﹙choji tomiyama﹚ : super messy but can navigate his own mess

he's too lazy to organize his room, with the excuse that he's shishitoren's leader! He got places to be in! ( bug catching )

you need an extra hair tie? just wait a minute he'll get it! oh here you go, it was on top of the ceiling fan haha

will not let anyone inside his room, he claims that whenever someone enters they break something, and that pompompurin keychain was expensive!

—﹙ren kaji﹚ : plays ooc songs

sometimes the ear-defening music he usually has on his playlist become bland, so he switches to pop.

will go batshit if someone caught him listening to NewJeans. His reputation will go down the drain. Thats why he prefers doing this secret activity in his house.

: is an expert at candy.

you will never find anyone better than him at picking candy. He knows what specific lollipop would fit today's vibes and what would be perfect to munch on while fighting.

his classmates will go to him directly to get his opinion on that new candy thats around recently, they know he already tried it out even if it was put in local grocery stores just yesterday!

—﹙mitsuki kiryu﹚ : speaks quickly

hes lazy most of the time but speaks impressively quick with no stuttering, some rumours say its a skill he earned from the amount of explainings he does to his girlfriends when they confront him...

: has a ghost hunting his house

has a ghost hunting his house, but instead of moving out like a normal person, he instead tries to make youtube ghost hunting videos.

with all seriousness gets ghost hunting equipments to interact with the ghost either on camera or off.

asks if they died a virgin.

—﹙tsuku tsubakino﹚ : walks in circles

he is caugh multiple times walking in circles, in multiple environments, either in the local park, or at a meeting with the other kings, at his house etc.

but he has confrimed that walking in circles usually means hes either thinking, stressing, talking on the phone but most of the time its just him testing his new heels!

ー﹕m.list﹐

© 2024 sillyhanako ━ do not copy, steal, or reupload my works. Thanks!

[pokemonblack3white3]

No more being mean to XY let's talk about the things we liked about it. Genuinely in terms of 3d pokemon I think it's one of the most effective. The gyms were all so fun. I remember the spider web in Santalune City with the dewdrops so clearly, the skating rink in Shalour ruled, swinging around in Coumarine was really fun, Anistar was gorgeous. Like, I'll stand by I'm so real that Kalos has the best 3d gym designs. Speaking of Anistar, the sundial fascinated me so much as a kid and it's still so gorgeous. For anybody who never got to see it in motion I'd seriously recommend looking up a video, it's enchanting. The Pokemon League with its elite four and chawmpion chambers were beautiful, too? All the environments in XY were incredible, honestly.

And of course we cannot forget all the incredible new things XY gave us, mega evolution and the start of the generational battle gimmicks, the fairy type, full party exp share, ride pokemon, character customization, wonder trades. Maybe they didn't add that many new pokemon in gen6 but overall they're all such effective designs. I am klefki's number one fan btw.

Seeing the cutscene of the box legendary escaping from its cocoon was life-changing for me as a kid. Xerneas and yveltal have such S+ tier designs. Zygarde, too. Eternal flower floette is such a cutie, too. She was the original regional variant guys trust. I loved Lumiose City so much as a kid I loved how much stuff you could do in it and all the little things you could discover. The museum, the cafes, the video studio, that scary ass ghost girl, the shops. I can't wait to get lost in it again in legends Z-A.

[lordsukunas]

the thorn in your side.

synop: nobleman!gojo being annoying asf, but he’s also kinda cute?

tags: fem!reader, royal au, gojo is a nobleman, reader is crown princess, reader is a lil mean to him but it’s really just playful banter, slight suggestiveness..? and by slight i mean very slight. not historically accurate (don’t jump me)

note: dk where this came from. prob all of the historical manhwas thats been on my fyp but wtv. uhh this is lowk fun tho, might make more of this if i have motivation!

“princess! i got a favor to ask.”

“ohhhh, princess!”

“hey, princess?”

your eye twitches in irritation. how many questions can one nobleman have in one day? you’ve answered each one with the dignity and grace expected of a future queen, but there’s only so much of that dignity and grace one can have.

you look up from your book, bright cerulean eyes staring down at you. “yes, lord gojo?”

his grin widens, and you have to resist the urge to slap it smooth off of his face. “do you know where i can find those little cookies? y’know, the ones you had at the banquet last week?”

... seriously?! he’s asking you about macaroons?!

“i believe you’re consulting the wrong person about that. perhaps you should ask the head chef.” your voice is strained, as if answering satoru’s questions for the umpteenth time today is making you physically ill.

satoru sighs and leans back in his chair, one long leg crossed over the other. “yeaaah, but i wanna ask you. since you’re the princess n’ all. unless...”

he tips his chair closer to yours, and his warm breath ghosts across the conch of your ear. tingles dance down your spine and heat creeps up the back of your neck. does he have regard for personal space?

“perhaps our kingdom’s queen-to-be is too dumb to know where macaroons come from?”

you should just ignore him. satoru’s entire purpose, it seems, is to just get on your nerves and force you to lose your well-maintained composure. you know this. and yet...

“i am not dumb, satoru. it is you who’s the idiot, considering you cannot seem to use basic logic to realize their origin,” you snap, words coming out in a hot, angry rush.

you are sick of him testing your patience, sick of his silly little grin and glossy pink lips, and stupid, ugly eyes that always seem to have a twinkle of mischief in them. how dare he speak to you that way? he’s only a nobleman, and you could easily strip him of that title.

a soft chuckle from satoru interrupts your mental tirade. what is he laughing for? is he laughing at you?

“what’s so funny.” you fold your arms over your chest, your brows knitted together.

“oh, nothing. it’s just...” he laughs again. it’s a soft, light sound, quite unlike the usual hearty and loud giggles and barely stifled snickers. yuck. “this is the first time you’ve used my first name, princess.”

ah.

did you really?

your mind replays what you said, and, unsurprisingly, he’s right. you called him satoru, not lord gojo.

the heat now burns your cheeks, and you look away, focusing your gaze on the nearly infinite rows of books in the library. “a mistake. even i make them, but do not think that will be happening again, lord gojo.”

satoru simply hums, drumming thick fingers against the table. “ah, but my name sounds so nice coming from your lips. are you sure it won’t happen again? perhaps in a different, more intimate context?”

how hard would you have to throw a book to get him to finally shut up?

you all but shove yourself out of your seat, tucking your bookmark in between the pages. you smooth out your gown and get rid of invisible specks of dust. “that... will not be happening either. good day, lord gojo. i hope i will you in the future.”

without waiting for what would definitely be some cheeky response, you spin on your heel and exit the library, rushing down the castle’s halls.

why does satoru gojo have to be so infuriating?!

[karmicbias]

Skeleta - what the fuck was THAT

I don't even really have the words. That was an incredible experience. What a gift. A gift to us, but also a gift that TF has.

It's going to need several (dozen) more listens but it's possible it surpasses Prequelle for me. Wow.

My main takeaway from this as I continue analysis - this is a HYMNAL.

Detailed notes jotted down below:

Peacefield

Didn’t make it past the end of the choral before I started crying

Love how the voices layer in, deepen, expand, swell

Hope - comfort for the journey we’re about to take

Cheesy but it fuckin works

Oh child, stay close to me - lyric of all time

This shit is so proggy

Love the arpeggio guitars and the soaring synth going into the solo

Spillways reference lol

Second part of the solo just ASCENDS

WE ARE LEGION. JOIN US.

Groovy synth solo

One less chorus might have been OK here really (Watcher in the Sky syndrome)

Also fewer “Peacefield” repetitions

Lachryma

Oh yeah we’ve listened a million times, groovin’ groovin’

Air guitar throughout

And singing along

I really love the rhythmic pick scratching in the pre-chorus

Choreography!

MARY GOORE WANTS OUT

That vocal flip is so satisfying, isn’t it

This duet gives me so many Feelings

Phantom’s finally “all grown up”

Growly slides yum yum

Resolve/determination

I love the long cymbal crash in the right ear at the end

Satanized

Aw yeah baby I remember not sleeping the week you came out

Same, dude.

I’m so excited to get to go in the confessional booth and make my best ‘oh shit’ face

SAVE ME

I love watching the mv for this and they’re really playing along

Freakin’ it sensitive style

Big fuckin’ bass gonna wobble some asses

This solo is OUTRAGEOUS

BIG BASS I LOVE YOU

White noise cymbal I love you

Tobias how long have you been waiting to put the word laicized in a song?

There’s a rising harmony at the end that fucks hard

Guiding Lights

Oh he really wants to be Erik Phantom

This low register is SEXY

Ohhhh I’m crying again

That acoustic guitar!

Orpheus and Eurydice again Tobias?

WILDASS CHORD CHOICES

This is a fuckin’ worship song

Is this album literally a hymnal you fucker?

All the solos on this album are just fucking beautiful

HARMONIES

De Profundis Borealis

This is GORGEOUS PIANO

WHA TTHE FUCK

I GOT JUMP SCARED

LITERALLY

Crying again because it’s so beautiful

WILD ASS CHORD CHOICES

Whoa

Anime credits music in the best way

PROG FUCKING METAL

Longing

Having trouble marking out the lyrics but I’ll look it up later

OH MY GOD CIRRUS AND DEW DOING THIS IS GOING TO BE UNREAL

Crying again

Cenotaph

Snazzy 90s fever dream

Whoa okay fakeout there

Mary, eh?

Um did y’all get Brian May while I wasn’t looking?

THIS IS A FUCKING QUEEN SONG

HOLY SHIT

Sorry I’m dead now

Crying again because Freddie would love it

(Crying on the second listen too, yay)

Brian Goddamn Fucking May guitar tone is unreal

Nice solo for Phantom too!

So many duo guitars on this album

Cool pulsing thing underneath

Classic Ghost chugging!!!

Back to Brian May holy cow 

IT’S QUEEN

I’m actually dead

Missilia Amori

Tobias you slut

Who hurt this man?

OH MY GOD TOBIAS

YOU CHEESEBALL

I cannot take this song seriously (this is the intended effect)

You better shake ass with this one for us

These lyrics are unhinged

Whoa wild harmonies “War is onnnn”

Key change!

SLUTTY VOCAL SLIDES HOLY FUCK

Oh my. Revenge.

Holy stank solo batman

The rhythm guitar countermelody!!

There’s gonna be some really INCREDIBLE burlesque and drag numbers to this

This one’s for the gays and the theys

I’LL SHOW YOU MINE TOBIAS

You really do have to do this one for us buddy

One less chorus at the end would be ok tho

Marks of the Evil One

Ohhh lovely and dark

Ooooh weird melody I love it

This is sexy

Four horsemen!

Sexy sexy bass

Flashbacks to TFIAFL future ghouls

Fear?

Getting a little bored

Rescued by the solo!

Sexy Baker Street

Ohhh fuck yeah the second solo makes up for being a little bored 

Sounded a bit like - Mummy Dust after the keytar solo

This hook is going to get its claws in me

f-bomb?

Umbra

Yessss finally I get to find out what happens after this intro!!!

Ohhhhh hahaha 

Cowbell!

Looooove this low register

This is DENSE

Sexy

Sparkly!

Oh the synth is back!!

Horny af

I’m gonna have to read the lyrics

VIBRASLAP WHO’S DOING THE VIBRASLAP ON STAGE

Wild ass chord choices!

Mounty must have so much fun with this one

The guitars are so far back!! A rare treat.

Thai is a fuckin’ hymnal

SICK ORGAN SOLO

WIZARD DUEL

I’M GOING TO LOSE MY SHIT WHEN I SEE THIS LIVE

DEW AND CIRRUS ARE GONNA LOOK SO FUCKIN COOL

Motherfuckin prog rock ass motherfucker

I love you

PHANTOM YOU GONNA NEED SOME STEADY HANDS AND A LOT OF STAMINA BUD 😏

Tobias just absolutely WENT OFF HERE

What the absolute fuck is this

We got some Karn Evil 9 for good measure

I am overwhelmed in the best possible way

I don’t even understand how this song works

Orgy of sound I love it so much

Excelsis

Instantly crying

He sounds so vulnerable

Wild ass chord choices!

Slowly building?

Acoustic!

I could see them swapping Monstrance Clock for this

Or He Is

I’m going to be sobbing the entire time

Like I am right now

This man cares SO MUCH

Also this man has gone to therapy holy shit

Gorgeous organ again

Been thinking about mortality much lately pal?

Actually no. I've decided it's actually shrooms. That would explain SO MANY THINGS ABOUT THIS ALBUM AND YOUR WHOLE DEAL THESE DAYS.

Ghoulettes are EATING this tour

Very Whiter Shade of Pale organ tone

Harmonies ;_;

Sobbing, choking

I have to sit up because I can’t breathe

Glockenspiel?!

What the fuck man I love how MUCH this is

Ohhhhh fuck me senseless

Dew is going to SLAUGHTER this. Phantom too.

Very Floyd

YOU’RE THE ONE HURTING ME TOBIAS

Curious to see how he could manage the emotion of the room on this one live - moving from grief to joy/carpe diem

Reminds me of the message at the end of shows - be more positive! And that’s the spot I think it’s gonna take.

FUCK YOU TOBIAS

This is a fucking mountain goats song and you will not convince me otherwise

[holylulusworld]

Girls just want to have fun

Summary: Girls just want to have fun

Pairing: Dean Winchester x fem!Reader

Warnings: partying, drinking, dancing, ladies’ night

A/N: For my story everyone is alive.

Inspired by Cindy Lauper's song "Girls just want to have fun"

It’s a damn good night. You feel good, and maybe you’re a little tipsy.

After months of being cramped in sleazy motel rooms with the Winchesters and fighting battle after battle, you finally got the chance to have a night out. It’s ladies’ night with karaoke and free drinks at the bar in town.

“Yes! Show them what you got!” you cheer your friends on, raising your glass. Jo, Charlie, and Bela are on the stag singing we will rock you. You’re not much of a singer, but you like to watch your friends having fun.

“They had too much wine,” Donna laughs because Charlie wants to try out stage diving. “There are like three people. They cannot catch her fall.”

“Nah, she’s like a cat and lands on her paws!” You exclaim loudly. “Believe me, she got this. A girl who fuck’s Dick Roman and Leviathans over can rock a stage dive too.”

“She will get hurt,” Jody worriedly watches Charlie stagger on the stage. “I can’t even look.”

“Wait! I got an idea,” you get your phone out to call Sam and Dean. “Guys, we have an emergency. You need to come to the bar. We need your help.”

You end the call before Dean can ask what happened, or if he needs to bring the big guns. While you order another drink and tell Charlie to wait for her stage dive a little longer, Sam and Dean run toward the garage at the bunker.

“What the…?” Dean watches Jo, Charlie, and Bela sing another song. Charlie waves at Dean while Bela blows a kiss at Sam. “Sammy, what has gotten into them? Do you think it’s a wrath? A ghost maybe?”

“Uh-Dean. I don’t think this is the supernatural kind of emergency,” Sam smirks at Bela who undresses him with her eyes. “I think they are having fun, is all.”

“What? Fun!” Alerted Dean storms toward you to snatch the drink you just ordered out of your hands. “Y/N, I hope you’ve got a damn good explanation why you called me. This doesn't look like an emergency.”

“It is!” you grab his arm to guide Dean toward the stage. “You see.” You point at Charlie on the stage. She giggles and walks toward the edge. “Charlie wants to try her first stage dive. We need strong men to catch her.”

“Stage dive – what?” Dean blinks a few times. “You’ve got to be shitting me! No more drinks for you.”

“Aw, but Deano,” you pat his chest with both hands. “Girls just want to have fun sometimes.” You lean closer to nuzzle his chin with your nose. “Please for me. Catch Charlie.”

Dean purses his lips. “This is far too dangerous! She could get hurt!”

“You sound like a dad,” you grin. “Deano, come on. Live a little.”

“What’s going on?” Sam finally joins your little conversation. “Where is the emergency, Y/N?”

“Charlie wants to stage dive. Y/N came up with the brilliant idea that we can catch Charlie,” Dean huffs. “She called us for a stage dive, Sammy.”

“Hmmm…” Sam looks at the stage, at the ground, and then at his hands. “If we team up, we can do it, Dean.”

Dean turns his head like in slow motion, to gape at his brother. “Did you hit your head, Sammy? What if she misses us and ends up on the ground? Charlie could get seriously hurt.”

“Deano, please,” you fist his Henley, tugging hard. In a hurry, he didn’t put on a plaid or a jacket. “I’ll make you pie tomorrow.”

“You’re going to be hangover tomorrow,” he points out. “If she gets hurt, you’ll take the blame.”

Dean walks toward the stage to talk to Charlie. He’s still not convinced this will work, but he’ll do it for Charlie and you.

“We can help,” Sam says. He walks toward the stage, followed by Castiel, Jack, and Gabriel who popped up Out of nowhere.

“Don’t tell me she called you too…” Dean sighs deeply. “Fine, let’s do this…”

And then, you all joined Dean to give Charlie the chance to have her first stage dive.

Sometimes girls just want to have fun.

Tags in reblog.

[criticallyinneedofadar]

Hi! I love your writing! Are you able to do a Elrond fic with a mage elf reader from a different land where their ears are longer & was raised with human commoners? Maybe she's been hiding with Bronwyn and the south landers? (they don't trust Halbrand, he reminds her of the nobles she used to know) Just a meet cute would be lovely, maybe in Eregion? Thanks, keep up the fantastic writing ♥️

I haven't forgotten about my asks! It's just taken me some time to give them all the time they deserve!

This is adorable and I had so much fun writing it!

Side note: For the purposes of this ask, we are saying that the Noldor have longer ears and some split off to stay around the humans in the southlands. Does it follow Tolkien lore? No. But that's okay. Don't take it too seriously :)

A Promise at the Gates

The air smells faintly of woodsmoke, a ghost of the battle that razed Tirharad to its foundations. You stride through the remnants of the village, your boots kicking up ash that clings to the hem of your cloak. The cries of children and murmurs of despair echo as displaced humans cluster around their leader, Bronwyn. Your friend.

She stands with her shoulders straight, her face a mask of calm determination. You marvel at her resilience; the humans have lost so much, and yet Bronwyn remains steadfast.

"I’ll journey to Eregion," you announce, breaking into her thoughts.

Bronwyn’s sharp gaze fixes on you. "Are you sure? The road is dangerous, and the elves…" She hesitates. "They may not listen."

You smirk, though your heart aches for her doubt. "They’ll listen to me. I’m persuasive."

She huffs out a laugh, and the two of you share a moment of fleeting warmth. But your gaze flickers to Halbrand, standing apart from the others. His every move prickles your instincts—his easy charm, his watchful eyes, the way he avoids questions with a grin.

"I still don’t trust him," you mutter.

"Neither do I," Bronwyn admits. "But he helped us."

"Did he, though?" you counter, your voice low. Your past whispers in your mind—smiling lords who lied with their teeth and betrayed with their blades. Halbrand reminds you of them.

But Bronwyn shakes her head, her focus resolute. "If he means harm, we’ll deal with it. For now, we must find shelter."

And so, you go, leaving the humans behind to gather their meager belongings.

+++++

The road to Eregion is long, winding through the wildlands of Middle-earth. You keep to yourself, avoiding caravans and curious humans. The journey gives you time to think—perhaps too much time. Memories surface, unbidden, of the great halls of your kin, where politics wove tighter snares than any spider’s web.

By the time you arrive, the walls of Eregion gleam in the sunlight, and its beauty takes your breath away. Fine craftsmanship blends seamlessly with the natural world, an unmistakable mark of the elves who dwell here. Yet it’s not the architecture that catches your eye—it’s the figure waiting just beyond the gates.

"Mae govannen," he says, his voice like a song. He is tall, with a poise that speaks of both wisdom and kindness. His dark hair shines in the light, and his eyes—those eyes—seem to look straight into your soul.

You hesitate, and his brow furrows slightly. "You are a traveler, yes? Seeking refuge or passage?"

"I’m seeking aid," you reply, your voice steady. "For the people of Tirharad."

His lips quirk upward at her name. "Ah, the human settlement. I cannot say I have heard much of anything from the southlands." He places a hand over his heart in a gesture of respect. "I am Elrond Peredhel. Please, come inside."

You nod, falling into step beside him as he leads you through the city.

+++++

The warmth of Eregion’s halls is a balm to your weary soul. You are ushered into a sitting room, where wine and fruit await. Elrond pours you a glass himself, his movements unhurried.

"You are Noldor, are you not?" he asks as he offers the drink.

You incline your head. "You know us by our ears, I assume."

His smile softens. "They are distinctive, but there is something else. A certain… informality in your bearing. It is refreshing."

You laugh, a genuine sound that surprises even you. "Is that your way of saying I lack decorum?"

"Not at all," he replies, his tone earnest. "It is a compliment."

The conversation flows easily after that. You speak of Bronwyn’s plight, of the humans displaced by war and the help they desperately need. Elrond listens intently, his gaze never wavering. When you finish, he nods thoughtfully.

"Eregion’s resources are strained, they are not equipped to send out vast quantities of supplies," he admits. "But I will speak with the High King.  No one should be left to suffer, not while aid is within reach."

His words ease a tension you hadn’t realized you were carrying. "Thank you," you say, meaning it.

But as the evening wears on, you find yourself watching him not as an emissary, but as a friend. There’s a warmth to him, a quiet strength that draws you in. And when he smiles at you—a real, unguarded smile—it feels like the sun breaking through the clouds.

The days that follow blur together. You work closely with Elrond, planning the logistics of transporting supplies to Tirharad. The more time you spend with him, the more you realize how different he is from the elves you knew in your youth. He is kind, yes, but also clever and quick-witted, with a knack for putting others at ease.

One afternoon, as you pore over maps in his study, he leans back in his chair and regards you with a curious expression.

"You are unlike any Noldor I’ve met before," he says.

You arch an eyebrow. "Is that a compliment or an observation?"

"A little of both," he admits, his lips twitching into a grin.

You tilt your head, studying him. "And you, Elrond Peredhel. You’re unlike the other elves I’ve met. You seem to carry the weight of two worlds on your shoulders, yet you never falter."

He looks away, his smile fading. "It is both a gift and a burden to be of two peoples. I strive to honor them both, but it is not always easy."

For a moment, you see the vulnerability beneath his polished exterior, and it makes your heart ache. Without thinking, you reach across the table and place your hand over his.

"You do it well," you say softly. "Better than most could."

He meets your gaze, and something unspoken passes between you—a connection that feels as ancient and unshakable as the earth beneath your feet.

The day of your departure arrives too soon. Bronwyn’s people need the supplies, and you cannot linger, no matter how much a part of you wishes to stay.

Elrond walks you to the gates of Eregion, his expression unreadable.

"Will you return?" he asks, his voice quiet.

You hesitate, the weight of the moment pressing down on you. "If the road leads me here again," you say, "I will not stray from it."

He smiles, though it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. "Then I will wait. Until the road calls you back."

You step closer, your heart pounding. "And if it doesn’t?"

His gaze locks with yours, and for a moment, the world falls away. "Then I will find it myself."

The words hang between you, a promise and a hope. You don’t say goodbye; it feels too final, too cruel. Instead, you turn and walk away, the weight of his gaze following you long after the city disappears from view.

As you journey back to Tirharad, your thoughts linger on Elrond—on his kindness, his strength, and the way he made you feel seen in a way you hadn’t been in centuries.

You smile to yourself, the memory of his voice echoing in your mind. Perhaps, someday, the road will lead you back to Eregion. Or perhaps, as he promised, he will find you first.

[carelisswriting]

Vectors

Hey y'all, this is one of my fics for ecto-implosion this year!

My partner this time is @blobghost, and I really enjoyed working with them! The art they made that inspired this fic is amazing, please check it out!!

Hope y'all enjoy the fic!!

***

“Do I really have to wear this? It’s so stuffy.” Danny complained, tugging at the collar of his shirt.

Clockwork hummed lightly, smoothing down the vest that kept getting bunched up no matter what Danny did “It is traditional for the King to wear clothing befitting their station.”

“Okay, but, counterpoint, I really think my normal suit would be fine-“

“Daniel. We have been over this.” Clockwork said with a sigh.

Danny rolled his eyes, but didn’t argue anymore.

They had, in fact, been over this. They didn’t want to give anyone an excuse to dispute his claim to the throne, or start a stupid fight about him being a bad choice for King.

That last bit was most likely to happen because of the Observants, which Clockwork had told Danny would be ‘an annoyance’. Considering that was strong wording for Clockwork, and weirdly straightforward as well, Danny was taking him pretty seriously about it.

Anyway, what it meant was, unfortunately, Danny was stuck wearing the stuffy formal clothes.

Okay, to be fair, they weren’t that stuffy. They just weren’t as casual as he would’ve liked them to be. For that, he’d need to be in jeans and a t-shirt, or his suit.

At least the belt had a pocket for his thermos.

Danny turned, grabbing the notecards for his speech. He’d spent the last few days trying to come up with something that didn’t completely suck, and hopefully he’d managed to do it.

He was not that confident, however. Clockwork had refused to help him with it, stating that “A King’s words must be their own, whether or not they are.”

“Tell me again why I have to do this? I really think I could get away with not doing it.” He said, stuffing the notecards in the same pocket as his thermos.

Clockwork did not sigh, but Danny could tell he wanted to.

“You need to announce your intentions as King, as well as formally swear to uphold the mantle of the Ghost King and protect the Realms. You cannot ‘get away with not doing it’.”

Danny floated off the ground, flipping onto his stomach so he could prop his head up on his hands “Okay, yeah all that is important, but like, I really think I could just not do it and everything would be fine. There’s no way Pariah did it-“

“Pariah Dark did, in fact, have a formal speech, swear-in, and coronation.” Clockwork said, cutting him off.

Well damn, there goes his best argument. Wait-

“You’re telling me Pariah Dark, as in the same Pariah Dark who was completely insane, made a speech about how he was going to ‘protect the Realms’ and be a good King?” Danny asked, bewilderment in his voice.

Clockwork sighed, an amused tone to it.

“Well, no. His speech was much more focused on ‘crushing his enemies’ and being ‘the most powerful ghost’. However, he still made one.”

Danny sighed, before lowering himself back onto the ground “Fine, fine, I guess I do have to make the stupid speech. Would’ve been more convenient if I could’ve done the coronation at the same time.”

He was being a little bit petty with that. But, to be fair, Clockwork had literally just shown up in his room, in the middle of the night, with the Crown and Ring and crowned him right then and there. Well, not quite then, seeing as time had been frozen. Regardless, the entire thing had been weird.

“You had to be crowned then, Daniel. Just as you have to make this speech now.”

Vague, and unhelpful. Just like Clockwork usually was.

Clockwork reached out to smooth out the vest again, since Danny twisting in the air had messed it up.

…Okay, maybe he wasn’t usually unhelpful. At least when he wasn’t trying to be.

Ancients, everything about Clockwork was so confusing-

“Are you ready, Daniel?”

Danny shook his head slightly, focusing back on Clockwork.

“Ready as I can be, I guess.”

Clockwork nodded, before opening the door and stepping out into the hallway.

Danny followed after him, not bothering to close the door behind him. Technically, the Keep was his now, so it didn’t matter.

He was not actually planning to spend time here, but it was the principle of the thing.

As they walked through the Keep, Danny could see the finishing touches on the renovation being completed, ghosts floating around and carefully reshaping the architecture. The renovation was mostly for the ghosts that actually enjoyed the Keep, but Danny had been the one to start it.

The whole point was to make the castle not quite as crumbly, and not as gloomy. He’d wanted to make it nice, since it was technically his. He’d also wanted to make it better for the ghosts who liked it and wanted to live there.

Already, it was looking a heck of lot better with repaired walls and more color. Though, since he’d put other ghosts in charge of the actual decoration, a lot of the decoration was in ‘his colors’, which everyone seemed to define as black, white, and a bit of green. At least it was better than the grey and blacks of the Keep previously. The white brought at least some brightness into the long hallways.

Clockwork stopped outside the door to the throne room, turning back to Danny.

He inclined his head, gesturing for Danny to step into the room ahead of him.

Which, for the record, Danny did not want to do.

But unfortunately, he couldn’t avoid this.

He sighed, before stepping in front of Clockwork and through the door.

Oh that was entirely too many ghosts. There had to be at least three hundred crammed in the throne room, waiting for his speech. They were stretching the limits of how many of them could fit in here comfortably.

Danny had a feeling the only reason there weren’t any more was because a bunch of the Realms had sent representatives, as opposed to multiple of their denizens coming.

He knew there were representatives because of the fact that a ton of them sent letters ahead, giving him their regards and generally sucking up to him.

He was not a fan of that part of being king. He was literally a random teenager, why were these people trying so hard to get his favor?

He knew why, obviously, but it was still a valid question. He couldn’t even drive! Though ghosts probably didn’t care about that, actually.

He finally looked away from the crowd, seeing the raised dais where the throne sat, as well as the ghosts on it. Clockwork had made his way over at some point, and-

Ugh. Great. The Observants were here. Or at least one of them was. Probably to ‘keep an eye on things’.

It was fine, he had the notecards. He wasn’t going to give them an excuse to yell at him. Or Clockwork. Ancients, did he hate the amount of control the stupid eyeballs had over him-

“King Phantom!”

Danny froze as he realized he’d been spotted by the crowd. The door had let out just next to the dais, slightly out of sight, so he hadn’t caught their attention immediately, but now that one of them had noticed him, they all noticed him. He quickly stopped being able to recognize his name in the cacophony that followed.

Danny winced, before floating up onto the dais. As he did, the crowd quieted, all of them waiting for him to speak.

No pressure, or anything.

At least he remembered how he was supposed to start his speech.

“Greetings, Dead and Neverborn of the Infinite Realms. Thank you for attending to this speech, as it was not ordered of you.” As he spoke, Danny carefully pulled out his notecards and hid them behind his back. Hopefully, he wouldn’t have to use them, but he didn’t want to fumble them if he did.

The crowd cheered, some of them looking at him with expressions that bordered on mania. He’d realized, in all the preparation for this speech and fixing up the Keep, that a few of the ghosts were desperate for a ruler. That wasn’t, y’know, Pariah Dark.

It was really weird to think they saw him as the solution to their problems.

“In this speech, my intentions as ruler will be formerly declared, as well as illustrated through the taking of vows-“

Danny froze, feeling something. It felt almost like his ghost sense, but different. A sense that the area in front of him was warping-

The crowd in front of him shifted nervously-

He heard the Observant mutter-

And then the something snapped.

Hovering in front of him was a staff, horizontal and roughly level with his waist. On one end, a black hole lay, drawing some of the ambient ectoplasm into it. On the other, a white hole, small shapes that almost looked like birds flying out. Connecting them, a thin bridge of bright green rods, mimicking the way that space-time was shown in every textbook he’d seen.

Danny took a breath, feeling the powercoming off the staff in waves.

-Child king, betwixt realms you lie.-

Danny startled at the voice, seeming to come from every corner of the room and yet not reaching more than him.

-In this, you are unique. In this, your potential is revealed. In this, your responsibility.-

Danny felt frozen, held in place by the voice and the staff.

-Reach out to Space, child king. To the Space between stars. Reach out and hold your fate.-

Danny shuddered, feeling the voice retreat, the staff floating in front of him folding back into itself. He could tell that no one else had heard it, the crowd’s faces uneasy and full of confusion.

He stared at the staff, seeing the twin spaces at the ends swirl, shine, reach out and touch the world around them.

He- The staff felt right, somehow. The idea of taking it up, holding it for the rest of his afterlife. It wasn’t like anything he’d ever felt.

The Crown and Ring were a burden, one forced on him by circumstances and Vlad’s rash actions.

Even other artifacts, like the Infini-Map, were neutral presences on his senses.

The staff felt like coming home.

He held out a hand to it, dropping the notecards.

They fluttered to the ground as he reached out to grab it.

His fingers barely an inch away as the Observant screeched “No!”

Grazing the staff, the buzzing of the black and white holes overtaking him, as he faintly heard Clockwork declare “A master of Space has been chosen.”

His hand wrapped around the staff, and pain surged into him.

Cold and burning and tearing his very atoms apart-

Fractals of ice surged out from him, Danny just barely able to see the crowd flinch away and panic through the tears in his eyes.

He dropped to his knees, no longer able to hold himself up in the face of the pain coursing through his entire body. The staff was still gripped in his hand, his muscles locking around it as it threw all its power into him.

He could feel it as parts of him changed, as parts of him broke and reformed in the wake of the staff’s power, of Space, pouring into him.

He wasn’t big enough, he couldn’t contain it, Space was too large-

Space was infinity, Space was miniscule, Space was shredding him-

Danny’s vision blurred, and he listed to the side as the pain reached a crescendo.

He caught a hint of purple in the corner of his view as he screamed, as he fell to pieces, as he-

As he passed out, mercifully feeling nothing.

***

He woke up slowly, blinking up at the unfamiliar ceiling for a while.

He’d been about to give his speech, but he’d only gotten through some of it before-

His hand flexed around the staff, still clutched in his grip.

 Right. He’d passed out.

Danny blinked again. Wait, he’d passed out cause of the pain. But.

He felt fine. Better than fine, really. He felt like he’d gotten a normal amount of sleep for once, on top of having more energy than he’d had since the ghost attacks started.

He also felt…different.

He frowned, sitting up.

He glanced down at the staff, hearing it hum as he moved it around. It looked the same, other than-

Huh. In the center of the green links, there were black and white ribbons of ectoplasm twining around each other, shifting and changing before his eyes.

Had that happened because of him grabbing the staff?

It must have.

Danny glanced around the room, at the gears and clocks on the walls. Clockwork must’ve taken him back to Long Now after he passed out. Which, thank the Ancients for that. The other options would’ve been staying at the Keep, which, no thank you, or trying to get Danny back to the human realm while he was passed out, which would’ve gone even worse than staying at the Keep.

He looked at the room for a moment longer, and became aware of something.

The room wasn’t real. Well, it was real, of course it was. But it wasn’t really a room.

It was just measures of space, of objects in space and measures of their own space.

Easily manipulated with just a moment of effort-

Danny twitched the hand holding the staff, not even thinking as he did it, and found himself by the far wall. It wasn’t teleportation, it wasn’t even moving. It was just changing how he viewed the space. There was no difference between him sitting on the bed and him standing by the wall, not really, not from his point of view-

Danny shook his head, snapping himself out of the trance he’d gone into when he’d realized the room wasn’t real. Okay, that was weird. He could still see, or sense, the way that the Space in the room had no fundamental difference between it. He could definitely pull the little trick of moving Space around him again, if he wanted to.

This was really weird. And not normal, even for ghosts. They teleported, yeah, but not like that. He should be freaking out.

But the staff still felt like home, felt safe, felt right.

And the way that Space folded around him at the slightest desire from himself felt right, too. Like it was meant to be this way.

…He should find Clockwork.

He’d know what was happening, why this staff had appeared in front of Danny. Why it seemed to have been waiting for him.

He opened the door with the hand that wasn’t holding the staff. Briefly, he wondered if he could set it down. The amount of wrongness that hit him at the thought of doing that confirmed he couldn’t, at least for now.

That really should’ve sent him into a panic attack or something. It didn’t.

Instead, he felt calm, even giddy. The staff was so cool!

The concept of having a black hole so neatly contained was already insane, and he really wanted to know how it worked but had an unfortunate feeling that the answer was magic, or at least close to it-

But having a white hole, of all things! It proved that they existed, even if just on the end of an impossible staff. Danny was the first human to see one! It proved the theory that they were the inverse of black holes as well, since it was on the opposite end-

Danny blinked, stopping in his tracks in the hallway. Huh.

Were the holes connected? If he sucked something into the black hole, would it appear out of the white hole?

Earlier it had just been pulling in ambient ectoplasm, though it strangely wasn’t doing that anymore, and putting out the bird-lookalike energy, but now that he had claimed it, would something different happen?

Logically, it should be more controlled. That was probably why it wasn’t pulling in ambient ectoplasm, and why it hadn’t sucked up the bed he had been in.

Danny looked down at the staff, watching the black and white energy twine together inside the staff.

On one hand, he really should go find Clockwork.

On the other hand, it couldn’t hurt if he played around with the staff a bit first, right?

He was pretty sure it was connected to him, and did what he wanted, so it wasn’t like he was accidentally going to cause a Space-Time anomaly or anything.

Unless he wanted to. He probably could if he wanted to.

But Danny was not going to do that, especially not in the middle of Clockwork’s lair.

That would just be rude.

Though, he really didn’t think Clockwork would care that much what he did as long as there wasn’t too much damage to be easily repairable. The ghost had always been nice to Danny, and accommodating, excluding their first meeting.

Their first meeting was a disaster. And also one that was not going to be repeated, ever, for multiple reasons.

Anyway! The point is he really wanted to mess around with the staff.

So, he was gonna mess around with the staff.

Danny grinned, holding the staff out in front of him like he’d seen his sister do with her bo staff.

He…was probably going to have to bother her for lessons if this turned out to be a staff he could actually fight with.

Danny shook his head, concentrating on the staff. He might as well test out the black hole first, since that fed into the white hole.

He glanced around, looking for something he could destroy without it being too much of a problem, or too annoying for Clockwork. He zeroed in on a small vase, one without any of the clock or gear imagery Clockwork was fond of. Instead, it had what looked like fish swimming through seaweed, though they weren’t like any fish Danny had ever seen, fins branching off fins.

Either way, not something Clockwork was likely to care if Danny destroyed. It was probably something he’d picked up or been given, and shoved in the hallway so he wouldn’t have to see it.

Danny knew for a fact that Clockwork spent most of his time in his viewing room, or the garden. Well, and the living room, but he was pretty sure that had only started after Danny started coming around.

He was pretty sure the living room hadn’t even existed before he’d started coming around.

It was nice, that Clockwork had made such a comfy space for him.

Danny shook his head again. He needed to stop getting off track. Thinking about feelings and stuff later, testing cool new staff now.

He braced himself, before sweeping the staff out at the vase. He made contact with it, the black hole dragging and distorting the vase as it pulled it in. That’s so cool-

Danny, unfortunately, had overestimated the amount of force he should put behind his swing. He realized this as the black hole kept moving forward, and made contact with one of the many clocks on the walls.

The brass machinery was sucked into the black hole, a shrieking sound following as it was ripped off the wall. Danny winced, hastily pulling back the staff.

Okay, noted. This thing was a lot lighter than it looked. Or it just felt lighter to him. Either way, hopefully Clockwork would forgive him about the clock.

Though, Danny wasn��t going to tell him if he could avoid it. It was more a hope that Clockwork would forgive him when he inevitably found out on his own.

He glanced back at the wall, seeing that despite the horrible noise it had made, pulling the clock off it hadn’t damaged it all that much. At least he’d gotten rid of the vase.

Danny started to float down the hall. He probably needed to head to the viewing room, he’d bet that’s where Clockwork was.

It took him a minute or so of floating through the halls to remember the original reason he’d been experimenting with the staff.

He wanted to figure out if something would come out of the white hole after being sucked into the black hole. He glanced around, seeing that the hallway he was in now didn’t have anything he was likely to destroy if he messed up again. The walls were full of interlocking gears, and Danny knew from experience they were not easily destroyed.

He may or may not have accidentally hit one of them with an ectoblast. And some of his ice. And also himself. He’d been running on an hour of sleep and three ghost fights, it really wasn’t his fault. Clockwork had barely managed to avoid laughing, Danny could just tell. He’d let him take a nap outside of time after that though, so that made up for it.

Anyway, the gears were not likely to get messed up, was his point.

Danny looked at the staff for a moment, before holding it out in front of himself again.

Okay, how was he gonna do this? It had seemed pretty obvious that the black hole had to touch things, though technically he bet that wasn’t so much a restriction of the staff as it was a restriction he was putting on the staff-

He needed to focus.

Danny tilted his head. Well, a bit of that ramble probably was useful. If the staff responded to him, which he was sure it did, it just hadn’t really sunk in yet- The staff responded to him.

So, he could do whatever and have the staff do what he wanted.

Danny grinned, before pulling back the staff and making a motion with it as if he was hurling an ectoblast at someone.

A burst of white light shot out of the staff, heading directly towards the gears on the wall, and it was then that Danny realized two things.

One, it looked like whatever went in the black hole got turned into energy, which made sense, at least a little bit-

And two, he hadn’t considered the fact that the staff was quite a bit more powerful than one of his ectoblasts.

The energy blast hit one of the gears, shattering it and stopping the spinning of the gears around it as they lost connection with each other.

Danny grimaced, looking at the remnants of the gear on the floor. That…was not going to be fun to fix. And he did not doubt that he would be the one fixing it, when Clockwork found out. At the very least, he’d be made to help.

He was gonna put off Clockwork finding out about this for as long as he could.

It wasn’t like the damage was in an area of Long Now he went through that often, and he’d told Danny that it often took him months to realize if something had gone awry with his lair, just due to how big it was and his own distorted sense of time.

So, if luck was on Danny’s side, which it almost never was, he wouldn’t have to fix the wall for a few months.

Danny sighed.

Yeah, he was fixing it before he left today, wasn’t he?

Unless something distracted Clockwork enough.

The staff in Danny’s hand hummed, and he realized that Clockwork probably was pretty distracted. He’d seemed to know what was going on with the whole ‘Master of Space’ thing, anyway.

Danny should probably find him, instead of destroying more stuff.

Accidentally destroying more stuff.

Danny shook his head, before flying down the hallway. The viewing room was usually close-ish to the living room and the garden, just cause Clockwork didn’t want to have to go that far if Danny visited or he needed to check on the time screens.

All Danny had to do was find one of the three rooms, and he was sure to find Clockwork.

Who would hopefully have some explanations.

***

In the end, it took about twenty minutes for Danny to find his way to the viewing room.

Long Now was big, and also Danny had spent perhaps too long wandering and thinking about the staff.

It turned out that the room he woke up in was pretty close to the living room, if he’d gone the other way in the hallway.

Which was a bit frustrating, but fine. He’d gotten to mess around with his cool new staff, anyway.

He opened the door to the viewing room, seeing Clockwork floating in front of the time screens, his back to Danny. Each screen showed a different era, from regency London to 80’s Japan. Danny had gotten a lot better at identifying time periods after he’d started hanging out at Long Now more, but it was weird that he could tell where the screens were showing. None of the scenes had specific landmarks, or people. He just…knew.

Probably due to his new staff, and title, now that he thought about it.

Clockwork turned, a small smile on his face as he faced Danny.

“I trust you’re satisfied with your staff and new powers, then?”

He sounded fond, exactly like he did when Danny managed to finish a homework problem he’d been struggling with, or like he did when Danny showed up to vent after a long day.

It became very clear, in that moment, that Clockwork knew everything. And that he had known this would happen for a while, maybe even since- since their first meeting.

He was the Master of Time, after all.

Danny drifted closer, watching Clockwork carefully.

“Why?”

He figured Clockwork had more than enough context to work out what he meant.

Clockwork hummed slightly “You’ve already worked out you are the Master of Space, yes?”

Danny nodded, before adding “I don’t know what it means, though. I know you’re the Master of Time-“

Danny cut himself off, a realization hovering at the edges of his thoughts.

The Master of Time. And the Master of Space.

Space-Time.

“I see you’ve figured it out, Daniel. The Realms needs both a Master of Space and a Master of Time, to be truly stable.” Clockwork said, turning back to his time screens.

Danny floated over to stand next to him.

“As you’ve seen, and participated in, my duty is to keep the Timeline running in the correct way, and to make sure things work out as they’re supposed to. But I am limited in directly interacting with the events I see, and limited in my abilities to intervene in any that need to change.”

Danny frowned. He’d thought that was all due to the Observants, but the way Clockwork was talking-

“The Realms choose the Masters, and I was chosen due to already having a strong connection to time, the ability to see the past and future. Though, I must admit, much of my current powers are due to my staff.” Clockwork continued, gesturing vaguely at the time screens.

Danny tilted his head slightly. The traveling in time, and stopping it, were because of the staff? He’d assumed that the staff was an extension of Clockwork’s powers, rather than the source-

Though, of course, his own staff was the source of his new powers.

“So, why was I chosen? I don’t really have any ‘Space-y’ powers, not without the staff.” Danny asked, shifting so he could see Clockwork’s face.

Clockwork smiled “I am getting to that, Daniel. The point is that it was simple, comparatively, for the Realms to choose me. Choosing the Master of Space is, was, much harder.”

Clockwork turned, floating over to be closer to one of the time screens, which shifted as Danny watched.

He flinched as it resolved into an image of the beginning of the portal accident, Sam and Tucker watching as Danny stepped into the portal. The scene stayed frozen, thank the Ancients.

Danny hesitantly came closer. Clockwork wouldn’t bring this up if it wasn’t important.

“The Master of Space must have a strong connection to both the Infinite Realms, and the Mortal one. Most ghosts are connected to the Infinite Realms just by virtue of their nature, but for a ghost to be truly connected to the Mortal Realm, and not just lingering behind? It takes something special, miraculous.”

Clockwork turned to Danny, a serious look on his face “It takes a halfa.”

Danny blinked, processing that.

“But, wait, if it only takes a halfa-“ Danny cringed, unable to finish his sentence. He did not relish the idea of Vlad having the amount of power that Clockwork did, even if it was Space instead of Time.

The amount of power that Danny now had.

Clockwork chuckled, a fond look on his face.

“It’s not quite that simple, Daniel. There is one other requirement, that is the reason that none of the other halfas before you were chosen.”

Danny gave Clockwork a questioning look, receiving a smile in return.

“I was chosen first. The Master of Space, then, must be able to work with me, and I them. None of the other candidates before you were capable of that. But you were.” Clockwork said, no small amount of awe in his voice.

Danny shifted uncomfortably. It was really weird, having Clockwork be amazed by him. He didn’t like it. He preferred it when Clockwork was being cryptic and annoying, actually.

Or soft and fond, like he was sometimes.

Either of them was better than this.

Clockwork drew back, his face going back to a blank, knowing look.

“The two Masters work together to protect the Realms, Daniel. Time to guide, monitor, and correct the Timeline, and Space to correct the Realms themselves. Closing dangerous natural portals, fixing fractured lands, and manipulating any psychical aspects of Timeline maintenance.”

He let out an unneeded breath, one likely entirely for show and Danny’s benefit.

“The Realms need both of us, Daniel.” There was a desperation in his voice, one very close to the awe from earlier, if slightly bent out of shape.

Danny backed up a little, Clockwork’s intensity scaring him slightly.

This was really weird, seeing Clockwork anything but perfectly in control.

And this was a lot, but-

But.

He looked down at the staff, still clutched in his hand.

The staff felt right. The title of ‘Master of Space’ felt right. What Clockwork was saying, under the desperation, felt right.

Danny had to do it. It was his responsibility, his fate. Just like the voice, which he guessed had been the Realms, had said.

“I wouldn’t need to give up my life in Amity Park, right?” he asked, nervousness in his voice.

The look of relief on Clockwork’s face, undercut by fondness and love, is what cemented Danny’s decision.

 “Of course not, Daniel. It would help, in fact. Maintaining a strong connection to both planes is needed. All you would need to do is work with me.”

Danny took a deep breath, before looking Clockwork in the eyes, a smile on his face.

“Alright. I’ll do it.”

Clockwork returned the smile, and said “We have a lot of work to do, I admit.”

He waved a hand, shutting off the time screens.

“But we have Time.”

Danny couldn’t help himself.

 “And Space?” He asked.

Clockwork sighed, the smile still on his face.

“Yes, and Space.”

Danny grinned.

This was definitely one of the strangest things that had happened to him, including the whole Ghost King situation, but he had a feeling it was also going to be one of the best.

Clockwork opened the door out to the hallway, looking over at Danny as he did so.

“And Daniel? We will be starting with repairing that wall you broke.”

Danny groaned.

Of course they would be.

[manicrouge]

Inundate

[𝙰𝚄: 𝙶𝚞𝚊𝚛𝚍!𝚂𝚒𝚖𝚘𝚗 𝚁𝚒𝚕𝚎𝚢 𝚡 𝚂𝚒𝚛𝚎𝚗!𝚁𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛] || 𝙿𝚕𝚊𝚢𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚝

[𝙳𝚊𝚝𝚎 𝙿𝚘𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚍]: 05/01/24

[𝙰𝚋𝚘𝚞𝚝]: Sorry is the siren whose selfishness results in carnage.

[𝙲𝚠]: gore, murder, blood, body horror, angst, character deaths (both major and minor), hurt/comfort, smut, possessive!simon, inexperienced!reader, creampie, hurt and NO COMFORT, mention of the loss of a parent.

[𝚆𝚘𝚛𝚍 𝙲𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚝]: 18,536

[𝙰/𝙽]: Since so many people liked the first part (ty for ur support btw i am blown away by all the love ive been getting... it's enough to make a grown woman cry) HERE'S PART TWO!!! I hope it's just as entertaining as the first part and a good continuation to the story, although if you dislike it, just pretend this part never happened. Also this took so long because between writing this I have been watching the cat in the hat (best movie of all time btw).

I had a lot of fun writing this and can't wait for more alt aus !! I think the next think i have planned has something to do with everyones favourite ghost so... keep an eye out for that :3

(Pls ignore any typos I am very tired and really wanted to get this done so if I have made any I do apologise)

Comments are always appreciated !!

If you haven't already read it, I advise you read 𝙿𝚊𝚛𝚝 𝙾𝚗𝚎 !!

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

There is something in the water.

There's something looking at him. He can sense it, he can feel it, and the feeling of whatever it is makes his blood run cold. Words have been leaving his mouth as he stands upon the ship, his eyes blood red at the very belief that something is there.

Leaning over, he watches as the ship caves into the waves, the village in the distance growing further and further away, the sound of songs and cheers emitting from the belly of the vessel.

Perhaps he's just a little sea sick, that's his excuse for the creeping sense of dread which is climbing up his spine the further he looks into the water, searching for the same set of black eyes that had stared at him that night while he obeyed the Captains orders.

Nausea rumbles his stomach, he feels the urge to grip the side of the ship and expel his guts for he cannot escape the image of that siren. It's as though, even though she is dead and gone (somewhere no one knows), she is still there with him, under his nails, infecting him with a sickly guilt that has caused his pores to ooze, the skin on his lips to crack, and his sleepless eyes to remain bloodshot.

He is rotting from the inside out.

Despite months having gone by, his hands are still slicked with the blood of the bleeding siren. He's scrubbed and scrubbed, and still, the dark red tinge under his nails persists. His hair is wild, flecks of grey sparkling in the daylight as he brings his hands together in an attempt to quell them as they continue to shake.

They're not alone anymore.

They haven't been for a while, yet, they have been none the wiser to it until the discovery of that... thing.

Granted, he's unsure as to whether or not he is grateful for knowing what is in the depths of the sea, or if he would have preferred it to stay a secret.

There is something following the ship, he knows there is something following the ship, whether beside it or under it- it doesn't matter.

He's heard the stories, read too many books in the library to count, and even since the murder of the siren, there has been a different air in the village just as there is at sea. Something is displeased, they are displeased, he knows they are.

'Roland, are you seriously looking for one of those things again?'

A hand is placed in his movement and he jolts, yelping at the sudden contact, his hands wrapping around the beam he has been using to look over the ship. There's a scoff from the man standing behind him as he scratches his beard, looking him up and down before his hands settle on hips hip.

'For fucks sake kid,' he exclaims, shaking his head, 'you're making yourself with the thought of the fuckin' things- have you looked in the mirror recently?'

He’s choking on his words, his tongue seemingly too big for his mouth as he gargles out an incoherent mess. Quite frankly, he would have been better throwing up overboard; at least then man would get a proper response from him. His cheeks are red as he concludes he should keep his mouth shut.

'You should have stayed on land,' he sharply states, 'this is our land, they don't have a fucking leg to stand on out here, right?' asks the man, wrapping his arm around his shoulder, holding his hand out as he points towards the sea with a bright smile on his face. 'One of theirs washed up on our shore, and they didn't stand a fuckin' chance against us.'

Observing the land, he swallows hard at the sight of a small mound of rocks sitting in the distance, tensing in the grip of the man standing beside him.

'She was on land,' he chokes out, resting his forearm against the edge of the ship, resting his head against his arms. The fluid motion of the water slightly rocking the boat side to side worsens his sickness as he sits and attempts to focus on his breathing. 'And she only died 'cause Price fucked up.'

'She only lived for as long as she did because that fuckwit was acting on the orders of the Lord,' says the man beside him, smacking his hand against his back, rendering the other breathless as he heaves for a gasp of air. 'Do I need to go to the Captain and get this boat turned around,' he lowly asks, 'because you're lookin' to be more of a fuckin' burden than anything else.'

Straightening his posture, he lets go of the edge of the shift, rubbing his face with his hands, shaking his head.

Rubbing his eyes, he winces at the dull pain as he does so, 'no, no, you don't... jus' haven't been sleeping recently, that's all,' he explains, 'been worrying about this trip but... I need the money; it's been rough recently.'

'Then get your fucking act together,' snaps the man, 'can't have some stupid mer-freaks scaring you, hey? They've probably left these waters, anyway,' he shrugs, 'they're like spiders; they fear us more than we fear them, and the only thing you've got to be fearful is Donny seeing you in this state, yeah?'

'Yeah,' he nods, noting that they're growing closer and closer to the mound of rocks. 'Need the money for this job.'

'Don't we all,' laughs the man, 'I'm gonna go get a drink, you gonna join me?'

As he looks at the an, he pictures the hot room beneath the deck with one too many bodies crammed into there, all for the sake of getting their hands on some rum. His stomach is burning as bile bubbles. There is nothing worse his mind can conceive at this moment, it's simply a death wish to accept his generous offer.

'No, I'm gonna stay up here; feel a bit sick,' he confesses, 'cause of the long break of voyages.'

Placing both of his hands on his bloated belly, Mike rolls his eyes, letting out a chuckle, 'I will say, strange how trade has been quiet for the past few months, isn't it? Got a village full of hungry people here and they're expecting us to sustain ourselves? That hardly seems culpable.’

'Somethin' to do with the Lords guards. They have more power than good, they do,' snarls Roland, 'think it's okay to demand for cuts of the ships in the water, and for what?'

'To keep you safe it seems,' laughs the man, 'can't have you vomiting into the ocean and angering the big fish, right? Have the village under water in the matter of seconds if you spilled your guts overboard.'

His laughter continues while he keeps his eyes glued on the small island of rocks. Holding his breath, he narrows them as the sun glares down at hm, burning his flesh. Sweat tricks from off of his forehead, chapped lips smacking together as he begins to smile.

'Bet it has something to do with the freak with the skull mask on.... Say, Mike, you ever seen his face before?' he asks with a furrowed brow.

Reflecting for a moment, he rests his hand against his hip, tapping his foot as he looks past Roland, staring into the sea as he contemplates. Resting either elbow on the edge of the ship, he lazily slouches awaiting the answer.

'No, can't say I have, hasn't left the house with that stupid fuckin' thing since he became one of the guards... you reckon it's real?' he asks with a laugh.

'Yeah fuckin' right,' Roland laughs, 'tied to the back of his head with pieces of silk, you really think someone like that has the fuckin' balls t’ kill someone and wear their skull as a souvenir?'

Both of them pause, sharing a look with one another.

Then Mike begins to laugh, Roland not too far behind as the pair of them howl.

His sickness abandons him as the pair of them laugh together. Tilting his back, he keeps his eyes screwed shut as he lifts a leg up, unable soothe the joyous ache in his gut.

'Yeah fuckin' right,' Mike says, wiping his eyes with his chubby fingers, 'he's doin' arts and crafts at...'

His laughter quells.

Even his sharp gasps for air dissipate.

Roland continues to laugh, only, after a few moments of silence, he clears his throat, his breath clawing at the inside of his throat.

He finds the hairs on his arms stand up, the wrinkles on his sickly face appearing as his peeling lips come together while lifting his head to look at Mike.

The elder man is pale, staring blankly past him into the sea.

'What?' Roland slowly asks, staring at the man, a smile tugging at his lips.

Unmoved by his comment, he turns his head to look in the direction where the man is looking.

Sinking his teeth into his bottom lip, he holds his breath as his eyes scan over the area.

There's the depth of the sea, they have passed the rocks he's heard in many account from those who have survived the sirens.

There is nothing there but the sea and the sky.

'Got ya',' chuckles the man behind him, continuing to laugh in the same manner he was laughing in before, 'you really thought I was gonna say that there's a siren there, didn't you? Gotta get them off of your mind, son.'

‘I know,' Roland retorts, 'the skull faced freak really helped... like medicine he is, strange fellow, yet so good for the soul, eh?'

'Good for the soul, but not the wallet,' snorts the latter. 'Wouldn't even say he's medicine, you're givin' him too much credit by sayin' that.'

'Oh?' Roland says, 'then what do you suppose he is then?'

'A witches potion,' he answers.

'Even that seems too nice,' says the spotty man, 'a quacks remedy is more fitting I think.'

The pair of them begin to laugh again, the waves crashing either side of the boat, and with every second they grow further and further from the little pile of rocks, and he finds his aching muscles are soothed.

The bustling cheers of the sailor help to warm his heart and he begins to think that he can stomach some rum.

A drop wouldn't kill a man, that's for sure.

In fact, it'll probably work well to settle his stomach.

'I think I've had a change of heart on the invite,' he says with a smile, 'drop of rum never killed anyone, has it?' he continues on brightly as though he had not been moments away from emptying his guts all of the deck. 'Well, it hasn't yet, at least.'

'That's the spirit,' Mike grins, 'probably help you with that uneasy stomach of yours, know it helps with mine, at least,' he says so while patting his stomach, looking over his shoulder to towards the door beneath the top of the ship where the Captain stands.

The man doesn't even move to address Mike, keeping his eyes set right in front of him, his hat tilted slightly downwards to keep the sun out of his eyes.

Opening his mouth to respond, all air exudes from his lung as he feels an ice cold touch on his shoulder.

Slowly, he turns his head, looking down to the wet patch on his shirt. A short breath escapes him as he notes the webbed hand, nails as sharp as daggers digging through the fabric of his shirt.

'Gonna take more than a quacks remedy to fix your issues,' a soft voice whispers as the hand on his shoulder shifts, and with one fair slash, the skin on his throat is shred as he is pulled overboard.

A gargled scream escapes him.

Writhing against the strong hold, his eyes water as he gasps for air as his body is dragged under the current. Swallowing mouthfuls of blood and water, he chokes out babbled for them to come back, for them to stop as the ship charged through the seas.

Cruelly, the siren holding him keeps him above water as he chokes.

'Don't worry about them,' says the voice behind him, 'water's waitin' for them, a pretty song is too.'

With that, he cries out in agony as your nails are drove into his stomach, the flesh snapping as you drag your fingers through his stomach.

'You helped in her capture,' you seethe, 'you're lucky I haven't flooded the entire fucking town, but if I don't find the man who murdered her, you best believe that entire town is going to drown in the same water as you.'

'T- They'll...' he wretches out, the strength in his kicks calming as his eyes grow heavy, '...kill you,' he firmly states, gritting his teeth.

A loud laugh graces his ears as your grip on him loosens.

'Only if they can swim with a slit throat.'

＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚ ☾ ˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

Blood washes off easily with water.

It's the nails it's difficult to remove it from, and he struggles with all his might as he stands at the edge of the shore, scraping his nails into the sand. It doesn't help at all, though, he still insists on doing so; it's the only time the stain of red is obscured.

The beach is bitter to him these days, and even though his mouth is protected from the elements as he keeps his balaclava over his mouth, he still feels a faint tingle on his mouth as he recalls the moment he spent here with you.

You're difficult to avoid, especially whenever he's passing the beach on patrol. Price has made a point to keep him away from it, placing him next to the Lords house during his patrols. He says it's to make it easier on him, so he's not as distracted while doing an important job.

When he's near the Lords house, his ears ring with the sound of your screaming and crying, and the blood under his nails grows darker.

There's a temptation whenever he's nearing the house; one cut to the throat and he would be dealt with.

As easy as that.

Truthfully, the old man has nothing to do with the issues going on within, but he's clamouring for someone to hate, for someone to blame. The old man made the orders, they could have just let her go, but they didn't.

And then you left with her.

In the morning after Serelia's burial, when he woke to an empty bed, his lungs turned to ice. It was unlike anything he had ever experienced, the feeling of utter despair as he found the pink dress he had bought for you gone along with yourself.

There was no residue of body heat on your side of the bed, he struggled to find anything to even prove you existed as he rushed around the house with wild eyes.

'Sweetheart?' he called, forcing the door to the bathroom open.

The light shined in from the window, though, there was nothing in there aside from the bloody frock he'd helped you remove the night before.

Picking it up off of the ground, he held it out in front of him looking at the drying blood in the fabric. He didn't know why he did it if anything, it only works to worsen his panic.

In the midst of public, eyes are everywhere... what if someone heard your confession to him? What if it was the same someone who hurt Serelia?

He dropped the dress promptly, his hand over his mouth as his face paled at the very thought of you being taken- of you meeting the same fate as the poor siren he'd buried. Only, in the memory, it was your face he was covering with the shabby old white sheet he found in the cabin, and it was your blood on that dress and not hers.

For the next few minutes, he spent them on his knees, gripping the edge of the toilet as he threw up what little he had in his stomach, ridding his body of the last moments he had spent with you.

After the remnants of the pastry he'd eaten before were in the toilet bowl, he suffered through a terrible burning in his throat as his face grew hot as he thought against all urges to throw up anymore. Yet, he failed, a mixture of stomach acid and spit landing in the bowl.

The smell was grotesque, yet, the taste of it was even worse.

His eyes were teary when he eventually forced himself off of the ground, rushing out of the room, quickly changing into his uniform, leaving the skull of his mask in his bedroom, tying the balaclava around his face before rushing out of the door.

People look at him with raised brows, finally able to see the top part of his face, yet, he doesn't care as he sprints through the village, his heart pounding against his chest, hoping that one of the women passing him is you.

The library is closed, you can't be there and he wants to scream as he holds the side of his head, his throat tightening up. How he longed to have the simple luxury of seeing you sat in the library again with a book on your lap. Though, as he peered through the glass of the small building, the space was simply a husk.

Heat climbed up his neck as he heaves out desperate breaths. His skin grew itchy and his blunt nails clawed at the flesh on his neck as he gulped hard attempting to chase after air, to find some form of peace to calm himself.

You left in silence, you left without a goodbye- surely you wouldn't have been so cruel to do so. You would have said something to him, left something for him to let you know that you were okay.

The missing dress is the only form of hope he had, though, the missing dress means nothing; someone could have taken that with you to make it look as though you left on your own accord and not someone else's.

The world is spinning as his breathing quickens, he can hardly make sense of anything around him and he finds himself growing more frustrated by the second. You could be anywhere, he hadn't let you out of his sight for more than a month, and the moment he sleeps with you beside him is the moment you disappear.

After the library, he checked the beach, yet it was clear, not a being in sight, nor a siren.

You were nowhere to be found.

The crashing waves and the grey sky swelled in his head rendering him speechless as he blinks back the tears, clenching his fists as he turned away from ocean, returning back to the village.

When he opened the door to the station, the first face he was greeted with was the both who Price had tasked with the mission of looking after Serelia.

The fool who was sloppy enough to leave her by herself.

'Mornin' Si', you want a tea?' Johnny asked, turning his attention away from Rhys standing beside him.

He doesn't care to respond to the man, instead, he grabbed the throat of the man beside him, slamming him against the wall with gritted teeth.

The man startled in his hold, letting out a loud gasp as Simon's fist around his neck tightens with the intent of only loosening when he felt the bone crunch in his fist.

'You fucking bastard!' he screamed.

Rhys doesn't dare move, weak wretches escaping him as he squirmed in his hold.

A hand grabs his shoulder, 'woah, woah, hey, Simon calm down!' Johnny exclaimed, 'you're gonna kill the fuckin' kid.'

'That' the whole point,' he snapped, 'you let that fuckin' siren die.'

'I- I didn't,' the man managed out.

'You left her alone and she was fucking murdered- this is your fault, Price put you up to it and you left her with no one there to protect her and she died.'

At that point, he could hear the blood in his veins, and had he not been forced off of him by Johnny and Price, he very well would have snapped the kids neck.

Rhys fell to the ground with a harsh gasp while Price stepped in front of him and Johnny kept hold his arms. When Simon stepped forward, Price placed his hand against his chest, shoving him backwards.

'Simon,' warned the man, 'bring it in, I've already got the death of that fucking siren on my case, I don't need another one to account for too.'

His eyes grew blurry as he looked at the man.

'What's wrong?' Johnny asked from behind him, 'whats happened?'

Everything folded in on itself, the cold morning, the absence of you and your dress, the bloody dress on the floor. Everything, every single thing he built with you collapsed, and he was unable to keep it all together as he ripped his arms from out of Johnny's hold.

Looking past Price, he pointed his finger in the direction of the brown-haired man on the floor, clenching his teeth, 'it's your fault she's fuckin' gone,' he seethes, 'all your fucking fault,' he mustered up before storming out the Station, blinking back tears as he returned home, knowing you weren't going to be there.

The beach is bitter now, but the memory is worse.

He doesn't know why he bothers to sit at the beach during the nighttime, perhaps it's in the hope that you'll reappear, or maybe the moon will send him a sign that you're safe somewhere her, and that the only part of you with Serelia is the skirt from the bloody frock he still has in his house.

It's peaceful at night, especially with the waves rolling in gently, and he imagines you're sitting on a rock somewhere, humming a sweet tune, causing trouble as you did so.

Anyone else would have been horrified with the confession, though, as he thinks about the damage that the people in the village have done to you, he wishes you'd flood the entire village and wipe it clean of all the scum in it.

At least then, even if he were to die in the flood, he'd die knowing that it was by your hand and no one else's.

And in his death, the man who he was held back from would also meet the same fate. That's all he's asking for.

Unsheathing the dagger in his belt, he drives it into the ground, dragging it through the grains of sand, taking his eyes from the sea to the deep line he's carved into the sand.

The throat of the Lord or Rhys would be better suited, though, he knows the fate awaiting him if he does something like that.

As he stares at the sand, the crunch of boots against the sand or the creak of a lantern behind him catching his attention though he doesn't turn his head; he knows the walking pattern well... he needs to get lighter on his feet if he's going to attempt to scare him.

'Thought I'd find ya 'ere, Lt,' says the man, walking beside him, not bothering to ask him if he can take a seat beside him. With a grunt, he lands on the ground, exhaling as he looks to the man sitting beside him. 'You've been comin' here since she left.'

'You spying on me?' Simon retorts.

'Seen you while on patrol, actually,' Johnny answers, 'difficult to miss, a big lump of coal you are,' he says with a chuckle, 'ya looked like you needed the company 'cause you've been keeping to yourself for months, and I know ye not typically a man of many words, but you've become a Ghost.'

He doesn't answer him, instead, he drivers his knife further into the sand.

'You gonna tell me what's actually going on, or are you gonna keep it a secret so no one can help you?' he asks, 'I've been thinking about the state of you the morning you nearly broke that kids neck, I've never seen you like that before.'

'You'll never see me like that again.'

'What did the death of that siren have to do with her leaving?'

His knuckles whiten around the knife.

'Kyle told us she was in a right state when Rhys got to the Station that morning. You forced him to keep everyone away from the cabin but the entire village heard her crying,' he explained, 'it was the talk of the town for days after.'

Looking at the man sitting beside him, he fights against the truth.

'The siren was what she was here for, wasn't she?' he asked.

Simon's breath gets caught in his throat.

'I've been goin' over it for weeks whenever I get a spare minute, the carry on out of her, her washing up on the shore out of the blue- not being able to remember the name of where her and her sister were goin' on that ship... none of that was true, was it?'

'No,' Simon answered, 'she told me when we found Serelia, we buried her and in the night she left... or someone took her,' he said.

'You think someone took her?'

'She was screamin' for the entire fuckin' village to hear, Johnny,' he snaps, letting go of the knife as he turns his attention back towards the ocean, 'anyone coulda heard her, including whoever killed Serelia. And I just keep goin' over it.'

He knows he'd never be able to forgive himself if such was confirmed, for what kind of protector would he be if he couldn't have stopped that monster from getting to you?

'What if she just... went back to the water?' he asks, 'that's where she belongs anyway, right? If she got a hold of the girl, she would have went back with her anyway.'

'She didn't say goodbye,' Simon utters.

'Maybe she didn't say goodbye because she knew you wouldn't be able to go,' he shrugs, 'if she woke you in the middle of the night and told you she had to go back home, would you have let her go?'

As he looks out onto the water, he contemplates his question, thinking back to the very night he lost you. He recalls the pair of you lying his bed, how you mumbled one last 'I love you' to him before leaving. Only, this time, you didn't leave without telling him. Instead, you look him dead in the eyes and tell him that you have to go.

Even debating the scenario in his head causes his heart to hurt.

'No...' he begins, his eyes narrowing as he keeps his eyes trained on the water.

It's difficult to see in the darkness, though, the light from the moon against the water highlights something bobbing closer and closer to the shore. Raising to his feet, Johnny looks up at him.

'You see that?' he asks, motioning over to the water.

The blob in the sea dips and raises with each wave rolling in, though with his mask and tired eyes, he's unsure if he's seeing something because it's there, or if his imagination is simply willing it to be sign he has been craving for the past couple of months.

'Aye,' he says, raising to his feet.

The pair stand idly staring at the bobbing blob.

'Whatever it is, it isn't alive,' says Johnny, watching as the man beside him shrugs off his cloak, untying the ribbon of his mask and pulling the balaclava off of his face, allowing it all to fall to the floor.

'Keep an eye on it for me, won't you?' Simon asks, looking over his shoulder, not bothering to wait for a response as he rushes into the water, heading directly towards the mysterious mass in the water.

Wading through the water, his pants grow heavier as his boots fill with water, though, he's uncaring as the water reaches his waist. The closer her gets to the body, the darker he finds the water grows.

'You know what it is yet?' calls the man on the shore.

Squinting, he reaches his hand out, placing his hand against the strange mass, pulling it over so he can see what it is.

Hollowed out eyes stare back at him, the sockets devoid of eye balls as he stares at the corpse a float in the water. It's intestines brush against his knee as though they have a life of their own.

The sight is brutal and in the darkness, he can't quite make out the feature of who the body is.

Grabbing the corpse under its armpits, he turns his head back to shore to see Johnny waiting with eager eyes to see what has been uncovered.

'It's a dead body!' Simon says with a grunt as he pulls the body through the water, leaving a trail of blood behind him as he drags it with him.

From behind him there's a slosh of water, the stammering breaths of the man appearing right beside him as he gawks at the corpse. He doesn't say anything, quite reserved for a man who is looking death in the eyes. Instead, he grabs its arm, helping Simon pull it to shore.

The heels of the corpse dig into the sand as he's pulled back to shore, the pair of them dropping him with a huff. Their clothes drip against the land as Johnny grabs the lantern he left beside Simon's masks and cloak, holding it over the body so the pair of them can grasp what it is they're dealing with.

The torso of the corpse is naked, the flesh of its stomach looking as though some sort of wild animal had gotten its hands on him. Only, its the intent of the cuts that tells him otherwise, his throat hangs open, exposing the top of his spine and vocal cords, loose flaps of skin blowing in the wind as the corpse leaks sea water and blood onto the sand.

As Simon moves his eyes up, he lets out a brittle exhale.

'This is one of the fellas who left on the ship today,' Johnny comments, looking to Simon who simply keeps his eyes glued to the chest of the man. 'Roland...' his words trail as he rips his eyes from off of the corpses face, all to see the very thing that Simon is staring at.

Johnny gulps.

'Your girl capable of doing that?' he says with a raised eyebrow.

In the bloody mess of the man, he finds exactly what he has been hoping to fine since he woke up that morning to find you were gone.

Of course, it could have been a shark attack- something other than the work of your hand, only, the confirmation of life is etched into the body as though it's a stone tablet or a tombstone.

Carved into the chest of the dead man is the word 'murderer'.

Simon smiles at the sight of the corpse, looking out onto the water.

'That's her,' he breathes, looking towards the moon, 'she's alive.'

＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚ ☾ ˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

The thing is, with humans at least, they're fragile when it comes to pain.

When something seems out of the ordinary, they're inclined to shit themselves and become a crying blubbering mess, begging for mercy as though it is them who are innocent when they acted with the intent of taking another's life.

Even the strongest man cowers when they're forced to encounter something unknown, and you rejoice as you blood at the bloody man on his knees before you.

The curse of the moon never truly left you, still tied to the humans upon leaving the water, and while you have a prolific distaste for you can no longer join the sirens upon the rocks, it works well when the ship is driven into rocks and one of the men manage to scramble to the shore.

He thinks he's safe until you walk from out of the water.

The tides turn and the small smirk on his face disappears as he realises you do indeed have legs and can walk right up to him. Either way, he's a fool to possess such smugness, a song from the water would have drove him right back to you anyway.

'P- Please, please, please, I- I'm sorry, what do you want? I'll give you whatever you want, you want money?' he chokes out, holding his hands out in front of him.

The blood of his friend you plucked from off of the ship mingles with the sea water as he trembles in the cool breeze.

Some dry patches even stick to him, a clump of congealed blood sticking to one of his eyebrows. Trebling hands dig into his pockets as he holds out a handful of golden coins.

You think of Simon briefly, smiling to yourself as you recall the soup you attempted to made with the golden coins he had given you. How you basked in the light of his home eating the slop in the bowl, but none of that mattered because the pair of you had each other.

And then your mind falls to the dress he gifted you.

The dress you left on the bathroom floor, the dress you ripped to leave a piece of yourself with Serelia, the dress stained with her blood.

Raising your hand, you slap the money out of his hands, the coins landing with a hollow thud onto the sand of the a small cove. 'I don't want your money,' you snap, grabbing his shirt, pulling him to you with gritted teeth. 'I want you to answer my question, and if you dance around it, I'll cut you from gut to gullet and let the sharks eat the rest of you body.'

'Of course, o- of course, anything, I'll tell you anything you want to know,' shudders the man, tears flowing freely down his wrinkled face.

Edging closer to him, your face is right in front of his, you can smell the booze on his breath as he sniffles, looking at you doe eyes.

'Who killed the siren you captured?'

He looks at you, opening his mouth as he stumbles and trips over the words leaving his mouth. All attempts to form words are lost to the panic he works himself into as he attempts to think of an answer which will satisfy you, yet keep whoever is guilty safe.

Your grip grows tighter on his hair.

'I- I don't know, I don't know, I'm sorry,' he sobs, 'please- please—'

Shoving him back onto the ground, you turn away from him, clenching your fists.

'Bull-fucking-shit.'

His sobs simmer as you look back to the water, taking a moment to contemplate his response. And, you find that you don't like what he has to say, in fact, you fucking despise it because you know for a fact he is full of shit.

Turning sharply on your heel, you look at the man, taking a breath before bringing your hand across his face. He falls with a huff, his face pressing against the sand as he lets out another pitiful cry.

'Wrong answer, try again,' you demand, leaning over, grabbing a fistful of his greasy hair, pulling his head up. Your breath ghosts his ear as you speak through clenched teeth, 'who killed the siren?'

'I- I heard whispers around the village!' he blurts, 'they said that whoever it was was smart and no one suspects them of it... b- but I know it wasn't the man you murdered.'

You let go of his hair.

The only people who knew where Serelia was were the Guards of the village and you know Simon would never have done something so brutal. Price cares too much about his duty to do something so horrible, even though to him, you're sure her death was much more of an inconvenience then it was a heartbreak.

Your mind aches as you go down to Johnny and Gaz. Why would they do something so cruel? As much as you despise their kind, you struggle to see why they would bring harm to her. It wouldn't make sense- even Gaz told you he would have freed her if their hands were

And then your heart stops.

Confirmation is the one thing you have longed for since returning to the sea, the one thing your sisters have wanted for the longest time. You looks at you with wide eyes, stammering out whispers as you release your hold on him.

The entire time you thought she was safe, she was in the hands of her murderer.

Your self indulgence and brief romance cost her her life.

Placing your hand against your forehead, you pace back and forwards in front of the man.

'The boy who Price hired to make sure she was safe,' you mumble to yourself, wiping your face with your hand. How could you have been so blind? Word never got out about her being anywhere, he never went home that night... he disappeared and Gaz couldn't find him that morning.

He was getting rid of the evidence of his crime and he succeeded.

Walking down the sand, you ignore the calls of the man as you return to the water. There's nothing around, no land, no safety, simply just a small cove a lot of soldiers don't account for until it is, fortunately, too late.

'Hey! Hey! You can't leave me here!' screams the man as you walk further into the water. 'I'm going to die out here! There's nothing around here, please, I told you what you wanted, how some mercy.'

Stopping in your tracks, you exhale, peering over your shoulder.

'This is mercy,' you briefly answer before walking into the water, disappearing out of his view for good.

Even under the water his screams travel though you don't care to show any form of kindness as you move away.

He deserves his death for his attempted lie, and you also find anger bubbling for you know what you have to do because of his confession- something you have been escaping for a while.

＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚ ☾ ˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

They work well on the side of the law, they stick to it as much as they can, though, when the pair of them shared a look while on the beach, they both knew what they had to do.

The breeze is gentle as the move the body further up the beach, occasionally turning their heads to look upwards in the direction for any sign of life as they do so.

Roland's intestines drag along the shore, his body leaking blood and water, leaving a gruesome trail behind the pair of them. Fortunately, the water will wash any trace of gore away and it will be as though he never existed in the first place.

'Why has she decided to pop up now?'

'First ship at sea for months,' he states, 'I'm surprised she hasn't tried to drag the entire village underwater with how torn she was.'

'What did you do with the girls body?' he asked, 'had Price choked up as he tried to explain to the Lord where the body disappeared off to, as far as he's concerned, there's no such thing as sirens cause he hasn't seen it with his own eyes.'

The old Lord is stubborn in his ways, that the pair of them know well enough not to bother questioning his reasonings. Upon his return, Simon recalls the look of upset when Price had to inform the man that they, as the guards of the village, failed at their duties. The body of the siren was nowhere to be seen, and he had to stand and watch as the Captain was subject to a brutal scolding, knowing well where the sirens body had disappeared off to.

It was unfair of him to do that, risking John's position all to keep the burial ground sacred and untouched, but he was still bruised and bleeding from the events that had taken place that night and the morning following.

All he can think about while standing in the room was the look on your face, how your bottom lip wobbled as you laid the fabric of your cherished dress upon the deceased girl, not bothering to consider your love for the item on your body, rather, the love you had for the woman lying in the ground.

Nothing was worth destroying that moment. Nothing.

'Buried it,' Simon answers, 'she's buried at the top of the cliff, just past the Lords house,' he says, setting the man down on the ground as they edge closer and closer to a small cove beneath the cliff, looking up at it.

'Lookin' over her home, ey?' Johnny asks with a small smile, 'her idea, I'm guessing.'

'It was mine, actually.'

'Didn't know y' were the sentimental type, Lt,' he comments with a smile, 'didn't know y' even had a heart.'

'I do,' Simon retorts.

'Really?'

'Yeah... a cold one.'

He doesn't miss the way the latter rolls his eyes.

'Wouldn't be sayin' that if she was here with you right now though, would ya?' he laughs, taking a breath before the pair of them continue to move the body. 'No, I can imagine y' now, all loved up. Thought of it makes me sick.'

Simon fights off the urge to scoff.

'Just say y' jealous, Johnny.'

'Oh, I am so jealous. I wish I had you to fall asleep to every night,' he whispers, his eyes moving from Simon to the body in their arms, 'cause, if that were the case, we'd be in bed right now, not carryin' a dead body, which your siren girlfriend mutilated, to hide it in a fuckin' cave,' he huffs, the darkness of the small cove swallowing the pair as they walked into it.

'These are typical activities for couples. We'd still be doin' it.'

Johnny doesn't bother to respond as the pair of them move further and further into the beast belly. 'Y' sure no kids gonna stumble across this corpse; he's gonna start to smell.'

'Tides rolling in tomorrow morning, not goin' back out until night,' Simon says, 'he'll be dragged back out to sea before anyone else gets to him.'

'Well, I hope y' right; if not, your girlfriends gonna be in a lot of trouble when the people in the village find out about this,' he says, finally relieving himself of the duty when he feels Simons hands slipping off of the body.

It lands in the wet sand of the cove with a wet splat, and the pair of them stare through the darkness, Johnny lifting his foot to find where exactly they placed the body.

'You think she's gonna come back?'

'Didn't dig her nails into him to for fun, Lt,' he answers, 'I reckon she'll show her face soon.'

Whether it is a few days, or even weeks, he doesn't care.

'I hope so.'

As long as you find your way back to him, the knowledge of you living is enough to soothe his weary eyes.

＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚ ☾ ˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

The sisters of a siren are fierce and loyal, even when your tongue burns as you speak to them of the events which had happened during your time on land.

You suffered similar hardships to Serelia, at least, they're convinced you did.

So, as you address the group with blown eyes drawn to the surface, explaining your reasoning as to why you should tread the land, to go back into that village, you're hardly surprised when their looks change as they address you.

Motive is of importance and you wish to solve the case, to bring justice to the woman buried on the cliff edge.

But, selfishly, you're also wishing to bring justice to a man who you wronged.

'Return to land?' a voice barks, 'you will do no such thing; the last time one of us went on Land, her life was taken from her cruelly, I'm not allowing that to happen to you, not at all,' she continues.

You stare at her, looking around at the other disapproving faces which surround you. There's still a void where she would have sat and you feel your lips pulling down into a frown as you stare blankly at the space beside the woman who holds her pointer finger up at you.

'It's irresponsible, you'll get yourself killed if you do that.'

'I finally have confirmation of which human killed Serelia, Raithe,' you respond, rubbing your face as you turn your eyes from the empty space to the angered siren. 'I can kill him, I will kill him, but I need to be on land in order to do so.'

There's a brief silence between yourself and the ground and you feel your chest tightening as you observe all their faces. While stoic, you feel as though the sea is pressing all its weight down onto you in an unlawful attempt to drown you.

Though, in the eyes of unhappiness, you find that you would be thankful if the sea had such a mercy on you.

'I don't understand why we never lead the entire village into the sea,' another siren says, batting her blonde eyelashes as she looks at you, 'would've have gotten this over in a second. We kept our silence up in the first place because they never got as far as killing one of our own, but they captured her and held her as a prisoner- they held you as a prisoner too,' she continues, 'why are you showing them mercy? They deserve to drown for their crimes.'

You pale at the thought of committing such an act against the village.

'Because...' your words trail as you take a harsh breath, sinking further into the current, 'there are children in the village- that's not who we are.'

All of them raise their eyebrows in your direction and you feel small as they do so. Your shoulders touch the lobes of your ears as your entire body tenses.

'That not who you are, not anymore at least,' Raithe scoffs, narrowing her black eyes. 'You've gone soft.'

'No I haven't,' you refute, 'I- I just—'

'She's in love she is,' another speaks, pushing through the water, moving behind you to grab your shoulders. Pushing you closer to the group, her grip tightenings as she forces your neck to the side, the base of her nose ghosting your flesh as inhales your scent.

You freeze as she does so, the only saving thought being the fact that you haven't been held by Simon in months.

Her sharp nails press against the flesh on your stomach, her eyes narrowing as grabs your face, forcing you to look at her.

'Tainted, you are,' she says, 'look in her eyes, look how she moves, you're protecting the very humans that killed our sister,' she accuses, the looks on the others faces hardening in your direction.

'You don't want to go on land for revenge, you want to go and see whoever you were with during the time you were supposed to be searching for Serelia,' Raithe exclaims, 'you are just as much of a monster as those humans are, you wicked little witch!'

'No, no I'm not,' you quickly blurt.

'Then we flood the village; they're all guilty of murder because they helped take her in the first place,' answers the black-haired woman simply.

With beady eyes you look at her, and when a tight-lipped smile appears on her face, you feel the sudden urge to vomit.

You sense betrayal burning in their beings and have an overwhelming desperation to be away from them despite the ties of blood that keep you bound as sisters.

You're released from the hold of the siren behind you all for your face to be caught with the hand of Raithe. Keeping her webbed hand against your face, her grip tightens on you, nails digging into your cheeks as she grits her dagger-like teeth at you.

You squirm in an attempt to escape her hold, yet the only thing you achieve as you do such is forcing her nails deeper.

'You chose your side even before this meeting,' Raithe seethes, 'you chose it when you let Serelia die, you chose it when you lied to us because you are in love, Amalise is right,' she laughs, shaking her head. 'You love a human, how can you be so sure they wouldn't do what they did to you what their kind did to Serelia?'

'B- Because he isn't like that,' you cry, 'he isn't like that, he took care of me, he did everything he could to make me happy and he helped me bury Serelia.'

Your eyes grow wide as you realise the confession that accidentally slipped past your lips.

You don't miss the collective gasp, nor do you miss the feeling of Raithe's hold on you loosening, pulling away from you completely.

'You buried her?' Amalise asks, 'you buried her on land?' her tone raises as she clenches your fist.

'I couldn't have—'

You're struck with a razor sharp hand.

Her claws tear the flesh of your face as you're thrown through the current.

For a moment, you're much too dazed to realise what has happened until your grabbed by the throat.

'How fucking dare you!' Raithe screams, 'you lied to us a- and you buried her on land away from us so we cannot visit her? You are no siren, you are just as monstrous as those humans.'

Her fist tightens around your throat, specks of darkness appearing in your eyes as you attempt to pull her hand off of you. Your nails dig into her flesh, but she doesn't budge.

'You wish to be a human so bad, right? That's what you want, you're burdened by being one of us because if they knew, they would kill you because that's who they are.'

'N- No,' you choke out.

She edges closer to you.

'I don't believe you,' she utters, looking over her shoulder, 'I say she returns to the land, let her human have her,' she suggests, addressing the other sirens.

Much to your horror, they nod in agreement.

Raithe turns back to you, cocking her head to the side as she narrows her black eyes. 'You can be there to witness his death when we lead him to the sea,' she firmly says as you weakly writhe, blood pouring from the slash on your face, a tingling washing your entire body as your hands on her wrists falter and the world begins to grow dark.

'See if he still loves you with a ruined face.'

A final wretch escapes you before you're forced into darkness, leaving the world behind with the disapproving look of Raithe being the very last thing you see.

＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚ ☾ ˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

Patrol around the village these is quiet, and while he enjoys the silence most of the time, he can't help but hate the silence he's plagued with as he's walking around the dark streets.

No matter where he walks he can never escape the sound of the crashing waves. Typically, he enjoys the sound of the water, of the gulls squawking as he passes by the beach, only, ever since uncovering the body of that sailor, he's found the sound only takes him back to the leaking body parts and hollow eyes.

In his time he has seen a lot, yet, that truly takes the cake.

It's for a good cause, Simon knows the implications of the siren attacks and if word got out to the village folk, it will sure be difficult to fix. Their silence has been in their favour as he hardly hears mentions of Serelia in the village anymore, yet, he knows the fear is still there for a lot of people.

Like a criminal, while on patrol, he cannot help but return to the scene of the crime, watchful eyes looking over the shore in search for blots of blood.

It's difficult to know why he is doing so; as far as he's concerned, no one knows what the pair of them did, and truthfully, if someone does stumble across the body, he is fine.

No one suspects a guard, the protector of all.

Sea foam coats the bottom of his boots as he mindlessly wanders further down the beach, his tired eyes looking up towards the moon sitting in the sky. Despite the clouds blocking any stars from his view, the moon makes sure to make her presence known.

If he weren't so tired, maybe he'd acknowledge the red tinge marking her surface.

'Hey you,' a voice hisses.

He stops, snapping his head to look around, his forehead wrinkling as he spies a woman a few meters away from him sitting in the water.

Upon first glance, he straightens his posture, preparing to scold the woman for being so careless, walking out into the water alone in the dead of the night.

Then, the water around her shifts as she lifts her tail up from out of the wind, the moonlight catching the green tinge of her scales.

'Bloody hell,' he blurts out under his breath.

Before him lies a woman with thick, long black hair.

She kicks her tail up, resting her arms around the ground as she stares up at him with wide, black eyes, offering him the best smile she can muster. Her teeth are as sharp as knives and she trails her tongue over the points of them as she grins.

'Come closer,' she requests.

'Ye gonna kill me, lassie,' he responds, 'I know ave got a fun haircut, but am not that stupid.'

The woman scoffs.

'I'm asking you nicely,' she sharply states, 'walk away and you'll be right back in the water with the sound of a song, so I advise you do what I'm asking of you and come closer.'

She grows as cold as the wind as she stares at him, her brows furrowing as she looks in his direction.

Goosebumps form on his skin, and while his head is telling him to do anything else, he relents to her demands, slowly moving closer to her.

The water touches his boots as she sighs, pushing herself off of her stomach, rolling the water with a bright grin, lifting her head to look at the man with a giggle.

'Oh, you listen so well, who would have thought a human would be obedient,' she chuckles, allowing her webbed hands to fall above her head, merely missing the edge of his boots. 'I've got something for you,' she claims.

'A death sentence, perhaps?'

'There was a girl in this village a while back... few months ago now, looked as you did, with your legs and your gill-less necks, but she wasn't true to you, nor your people for she was a siren.'

His eyebrows raise upon her words, and she laughs harder.

'Oh so now I've got your interest now... I don't suppose you're the lover she had while she was on land, are you?'

'Nae.'

'Do you know of the man who she loved?'

'Aye, he's my friend,' he says with a nod, 'you know where she is?'

'I have her with me, some of my friends are keeping hold of her,' she explains, 'but... we've been having a talk, you see, and she no longer views the ocean as her home, nor does she view us as her sisters; she has been tainted by your kind.'

Her face contorts in a horrific manner as she pokes at the tips of his boots. Though, he doesn't move, knowing better than to sacrifice the happiness of Simon for the sake of his own safety.

The man needs this- he needs you back.

'I'm a woman of morality and I am not going to force her to stay where she doesn't want to be, and quite frankly, she is no longer one of our own- rather a traitor to her own kind,' she says, sitting up from off of the ground, looking out at the sea, 'so, you can have her, let her seek out the man who she loves.'

Everything she's saying seems too good to be true.

As he looks away from the woman, two more heads appear above the water, though they are that of shadows as they move forward. As the move closer and closer, the black-haired woman reaches out with greedy hands, and from out of the water, she plucks you, pulling you up the shore with a grunt.

In the moonlight, he catches the brutal gash on your face, how you tale shimmers in the moonlight before it melts into the sand, dissipating in a crude shimmer as you're pushed to him.

'What have y' done to her?' he asks, rushing towards your unconscious form, shrugging his jacket from off of his shoulders, using it to cover you.

'She isn't dead,' answers the black-haired woman, 'that would have been too kind,' she barks out a laugh, watching as Johnny takes you into his arms, staggering backwards from her. 'No need to fear us,' she gently coos, 'at least, not yet.'

He doesn't care to listen a second longer as he looks down to the deep wound across your face, rushing across the beach towards the steps which lead back into the village, the cackle of the siren booming.

＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚ ☾ ˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

Nighttime is quiet now.

Whenever he isn't working, he's only plagued with violent desires and ideas, tossing and turning on the sofa, curtains drawn so the moon cannot see him.

His feet hang off of the sofa, a dull ache in his spine as he lies in darkness, unable to sleep.

Tonight is particularly difficult as his heartbeat thumps against his chest and he finds himself tossing and turning at the very fact that, the night before, he got the confirmation he has been longing for for months.

You're alive.

Only, after a while of joy, he finds sadness lurks beneath the realisation as Johnny's point of you returning to the water very well may be true, meaning you left him willingly.

Your absence is cruel in that sense.

He's staring at his skull mask, slowly dozing off as the pounding sound of fists against his door tear him from his dazed state. They're eager, quick and desperate. If they knock any harder, they very well might knock the door down.

With a snarl on his face, he pulls back the thin sheet drawn over his body, marching up to the door. From beyond it, he hears pants for air, not missing a thick accent uttering, 'c'mon bonnie, you're fine, yeah?'

Immediately, he grabs the handle of the door, forcing it open with a hard pull.

The knocking stops as Johnny looks up at him with wild eyes, shoving past him with a body in his arms, rushing into the living room. For a moment, Simon keeps his eyes trained on the now empty spot where he was just standing, a short breath escaping him as he recalls the familiar colour of the hair.

Slowly, he closes the door, listening to the ragged breaths of the man, turning to him with his stomach in knots. He watches as you're placed down onto the couch, air escaping him as he notes the red stain in the mans white shirt as he turns his attention to him.

'It's her, Si',' he says.

Simon doesn't move.

'Some siren was sittin' on the beach, she gave her to me, said she'd betrayed her kind- that she's no better than us,' he explains, moving away from the sofa to the bookshelf, his hand patting along the wood in hopes of uncovering the box of matches he's spied a few times.

Moving over to the sofa, Simon reaches his hand out to you, resting it down on your shoulder. You're cold to the touch, the scent of sea water filling his nose as he hears the scrape of a match and the crackle of a wick.

An orange light is cast over your being as Johnny stands beside him with a candle in his hand.

From out of the darkness appears a crude claw-like mark on your cheek, blood dripping from the harsh gash down onto your bruised neck.

'What the fuck did they do to her?' he asks through gritted teeth, tearing at the fabric of his own shirt, kneeling down beside you, pressing the fabric against the cut on your face.

A noise escapes you when he does so, and he feels a heat bubbling in his stomach.

'You're okay, sweetheart,' he utters gently, keeping a firm pressure on the wound.

'I don't know,' Johnny answers, 'pulled her out of the water and gave 'er to me... said they don't want her anymore.'

Blood soaks into the fabric of his shirt as you stir.

A moan escapes your mouth, and as your eyes slowly open, you're aware of the agonising pain emitting from your cheek. Then follows the feeling of a familiar sofa, the sound of familiar voices and the warmth of a familiar hold.

Opening your eyes, you're greeted with the sight of Simon in the candle light.

Despite the bags under his eyes and the addition of a few pink scars on his face, he still looks as glorious as he did the night you left him.

'Simon?' you choke out at the sight of him.

You catch a shift in his eyes as he looks at you.

'I'm here, love,' he gently says, 'you're safe; I've got you.'

You can be there to witness his death when we lead him to the sea.

You hear her voice, her cruel tone, and the coldness of her words flood through your veins, fighting off any ounce of warmness from Simon's reassurances.

I shouldn't be here.

In the blink of an eye, you're sitting up and his hold is removed from off of your face as you scramble to the other side of the couch, wincing as a harsh dizziness floods your senses and the desire to vomit springs upon you.

'N- no, no, no,' you quickly say, lifting your head with narrow eyes, pulling the fabric of Johnny's coat against your bare body as you look at the two men with teary eyes. 'How... why, why am I here? How did you get me here?' you ask in a panicked tone.

Simon looks to Johnny and Johnny looks at you.

'There was a siren on the beach—'

'Who?' you snap, 'what colour was her hair?'

'Black... bonnie, are you okay? What happened?'

'I can't be here,' you ramble, 'they're gonna do something bad, they're gonna do it all because of me and- and I—'

You begin to cry.

'I can't be here, you've got to let me go,' you beg, attempting to raise to your feet, all for the dizziness to keep you down. 'Please, please!'

You feel as though the world is ending.

Unable to escape the horror of the words expressed, you fight against yourself and the urge to spill your guts all over the floor of the living room, your tears seeping into the wound on your face.

Simon moves closer to you, placing his hand against your knee, looking up at you with teary eyes.

Reaching out your hand, you rest it against his cheek as more tears flow freely, letting out a hiccup upon being graced with the warmth of his face.

'I'm sorry,' you cry.

Placing his hand over your own, he shushes you, 'we'll talk about it once you've told us what's happened, alright sweetheart?' he asks gently, 'what happened?'

His calmness in the face of horror is unnerving, and as you look in his eyes, you spy a darkness in his eyes. You wish to be in his arms, but your temper keeps you from fulfilling the urge as you press your trembling lips together, wincing as you swallow.

'They know,' you say, looking at Simon, 'they know about you,' you choke out, 't- they think I'm a traitor and they want you dead- they want to put the entire village to death for what happened to Serelia.'

His hold tightens on your hand.

'Why didn't you want the same as them?' Johnny asks, 'very well could have put the entire village under water if y' willed it.'

'Because there are people here who don't deserve to die,' you sniffle, 'there are innocent people here a- and it isn't fair to punish them for the violence of someone else's hand,' you explain, 'they're blinded by their rage, and if I were without experience, I would be too.'

You curse the part of you which still sympathises with the people who cast you out, though, you know enough to understand who the true villain is. Not the sirens, not the humans, rather, the ignorance of both sides refusing to see the perspective of the others.

And here you are, attempting to piece together a bridge.

The pair before you don't speak and you feel your heart beating quicker as you look into the eyes of the lover you abandoned many moons ago. You spy betrayal in his gaze, though his anger is not directed towards you.

'They're gonna lead the entire village underwater,' you breath, 'I don't know when they're going to do it and I don't know how to stop them when they finally do decide they want to do it,' you say, your eyes welling with tears.

'Oh love,' Simon exhales gently.

'We won't let anythin' happen, lass, y' have my word,' Johnny reassures.

You suppose he wants you to find comfort in his words, yet, his enthusiasm only works to bruise you further; you know there's nothing either of them can do, not against the call of a siren.

'I offered to go back on land,' you whisper, 'I told them I could do it; we finally got the name if the man who killed Serelia.'

'This have somethin' to do with the man y' massacred?' Johnny asks.

'I was following the ship because I recognised him,' you answer, recalling the tone he carried while talking about the man in front of you.

Even if he hadn't been responsible for helping in her capture, you still would have been taken from off of the boat.

'He was one of the people who carried Serelia off of the beach. He deserved what became of him.'

To regret would be to forgive, and you will never forgive a man who did something so terrible.

'We crashed the boat, all but one died, and I asked him if he knew who did it. He told me he didn't know who, but he had an idea of who did it; people around here know that whoever it was is close to the guard.'

Both Johnny and Simon share a look.

'Y' not saying you think it's one of us, are you?' Simon asks, to which you quickly shake your head.

'No, no, I know neither of you would do that- not even Kyle or Price would stoop that low... it's the one who was supposed to look after her, Si'. It was the one who told us she was dead that morning.'

The silence in the room is deafening.

Simon's hand moves away from yours as he slowly begins to stand up, his eyes falling back to the staircase. 'Rhys?' Johnny says, his eyes blown, 'he said he liked her.'

Your eyes stay on Simon's as he clenches his fists, the mellow look which has been on his face since he saw you melting off. Trailing his tongue across the inside of his mouth, you gulp thickly viewing his anger.

'I'm gonna fuckin' kill him,' he coldly says.

It's not a threat, rather, a promise.

Neither you or Johnny say anything, instead, the pair of you share a look before your eyes fall back to Simon who is already making his way out of the living room towards the staircase.

If you speak now, you fear the repercussions of stopping him from doing what he's set his mind on doing; while you never saw anything during your first time on land, you're not unknown to the truth of who he truly is.

'Simon,' you blurt out, unable to fight against your thoughts as you look up the stairs.

He stops in his tracks, heaving out a heavy breath before turning to you. You can hardly make him out in the dim light as he moves, devoid of all the light which makes his so ethereal.

Still, in the light or darkness, he's still the man who holds you heart.

'D- Don't act on that anger now,' you quietly say, 'the only way of saving the village from them is to give them what they want... if they want Rhys, they'll want him alive, and if they don't want me, then I'll stay here,' you say through a laboured breath.

Your heartaches at the thought of leaving your home, leaving the grave of your mother abandoned for all the others to swarm. But, if they so willingly cast you out, then, you suppose they were never truly family in the first place.

'Just... stay with me tonight, yeah?' you ask, 'don't want you to do something harsh when you're not thinking straight; he'll get what he deserves, just not tonight.'

You hear him shift as Johnny sets the lit candle down onto the stand beside the sofa. 'She's right, Lt, can't be doin' something that will keep you away from your bonnie; been away from each other long enough, hey?'

He moves away from the darkness, coming back into the light. You offer him a smile as he places his hand against your shoulder with a short nod. Placing your hand over his, you melt into his hold. Johnny looks at the pair of you with a smile on his face.

'We'll sort out a plan in the morning about what we'll do,' Simon says, 'figure out how we're gonna get him to the sirens, and if they agree with the deal, then we'll offer him up and forget this entire thing ever happened.'

'Aye,' Johnny says with a firm nod, approaching the door, 'make sure y' get her cleaned up, I'll meet the pair of you at the bakery tomorrow,' he continues, pulling the door open, looking over his shoulder at the pair of you.

Simon nods his head. 'Affirmative.'

As the man disappears into the night, the door closes with a click, and for the first time in months, you're finally alone with the man. You don't miss the breath that escapes him, in fact, you grow cold at the sound as his hand leaves your shoulder.

'Si'—'

'Need to get you cleaned up,' he abruptly says, 'we can talk about everything once I know you're okay, yeah? You need to get cleaned up before anything, c'mon.'

Your teeth sink into your bottom lip and you fight against the urge to defy his request. Though, recalling the grey bags under his eyes, you find you're raising from where you're sitting. As he said, you can talk about it later, and for now, you find yourself thankful that he simply wants to enjoy your company.

＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚ ☾ ˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

'I'm sorry,' you whisper as soon as your head hits the pillow. Oddly, as you watch the man move in the moonlight, it's difficult to even process the fact that you have been gone for so long.

Your hair is slightly damp your bath, and while the wound on your face feels as though it has its own heartbeat, the dressing covering it keeps it from weeping freely.

'I just didn't know what to do, and- and I was so angry with myself and I didn't trust—'

'Your hand was forced, love,' Simon utters, laying on is side to look at you. 'I just wish you would have woke me up or left me a note- something to let me know that you were okay.'

Your heart drops at the thought of the months of misery he has suffered through by your hand.

Even though to you it seemed necessary, you know better than to impose your own views onto the man who was left wandering where you had disappeared off to for months on end.

Your absence was necessary yet cruel.

'I know, I know I should have and I'm sorry for not saying something to you,' you respond, reaching your hand out to grab his much larger one. He grabs your hand, wrapping his fingers around yours with a sigh. 'I wish I never left.'

'You did what you thought was right in the moment an' I'd be a prick for telling you you were in the wrong for doin' it,' mumbles the man, 'y' had to figure stuff out. All that matters now is that you're back.'

'I won't be goin' anywhere anytime soon if you're planning on staying with me,' you say, 'could kick me to the streets for everything I've put you through; I wouldn't blame you for doing it.'

'Wouldn't ever dream about it, sweetheart,' he says.

You watch as he scoffs before moving towards you, letting go of your hand to grasp your waist, pulling you towards him.

Shuffling closer, you smile as you press your lips against you, a flurry of butterflies swirling in your stomach a you feel his hand on your waist tighten.

All the months of pain melt in the matter of moments as the pair of you hold each other. It's as though the pair of you have been apart for multiple lives, plagued with the memory of each other, until eventually meeting again in this life.

Tears pool in your eyes, your hand pressing against the side of his face, snaking around to tug at his hair as he bites down on your bottom lip.

A muffled moan escapes you, trailing off into a whine when he pulls away from you. A trail of saliva keeps the pair of you connected as your eyes flicker from his mouth back to his eyes.

'I've missed you so much,' you confess, blinking back the tears as he smiles at you. 'So fucking much- there hasn't been a day I haven't thought about you.'

His hand against your waist loosens as he moves his hand under the white shirt he dressed you in, moving between your thighs.

'Missed you too,' he confesses, his index finger brushing over your clothes cunt with a sigh. 'Wanna show you how much I've missed you,' he utters, pressing the tip of his finger into against your clit.

You comply with a kiss, a small giggle escaping you as he pulls you on top of him. Hands sliding down your waist, you begin to undress, all for one of his hands to catch your wrist. 'Keep it on, sweetheart,' he rasps, 'like seein' you in my clothes.'

Colour rushes to your cheeks as you nod your head, hands gripping the waistband of his underwear, pulling them down.

There's no need for anything, the desire to feel him inside you after so many months obscuring any other sense of yours.

You need him and he needs you.

Tugging down his underwear, goosebumps form on your skin when you hear him grunt as you pull them further down his thighs, freeing his cock from his boxers. You sit for a moment, jumping when you feel his hands squeeze your hips.

'Spit in your hand, love,' he instructs.

You feel his eyes on you as you scrunch your nose up at the request.

'What?'

'Listen to me and I'll help you, yeah?' he asks, 'now spit in your hand.'

Your entire face is warm as you hold your hand out in front of your, spitting into it. 'Good girl,' he breaths, 'now wrap your hand around my cock.'

Listening to him, you reach out, wrapping your hand around him. He hisses as you do so, and you pause upon seeing his reaction, fearful that you've done something wrong. 'That's right,' he utters, as precum pools at the top of your fist as you feel him twitch in your hold, 'no more your hand up and down f'r me, love, get me ready for that pretty little cunt of yours.'

A sinful sound emits as you begin to move your hand up and down his cock, your slick hand moving up and down with ease. You feel his thighs tense below you as you move a hand between your legs, your mouth turning dry from the wetness pooling in your underwear.

'That's desperate, princess?' Simon grunts with a smile on his face. You feel the urge to wipe it off of his face, though, you nod your head in agreement, knowing better than to deny something you so desperately want. 'Pull your panties to the side,' he instructs, 'not touchin' that pussy of yours; you're gonna come from my cock an' nothin' else,' he gruffly says.

Letting go of his cock, you do at he asks of you, a small yelp escaping you as he pulls your forward, his cock pressing against you folds as he sighs.

There's a temperament, a desire lingering to keep you on top, though, as he looks at you with your swollen lips and red face, he relents, moving you so you're lying on your bak with him over you.

'Got plenty of time for all that,' he utters, pressing his tip against your hole.

You clench around nothing, shifting beneath him as he presses his lips against yours.

It's different from the last time, you see something different in his eyes as he pushes into you, the delightful sting from many moons ago returning. Arching your back off of the bed, your whimper against his mouth.

'That's it,' he whispers, 'oh fuck.'

Your legs tighten around his waist, a few stray tears escaping from your eyes. It's a mixture of pain, pleasure, and joy. To be back in his arms after so much time a part is a gift in itself, for him to want you back is another. Your mind is racing as you sniffle, pressing another kiss against his mouth.

'Y' okay, yeah, princess? So good f'r me,' he grunts, slowly pulling out of you. More tears fall down your face as you nod your head, your eyes screwed shut as he thrusts back into you. Clicking his tongue, he pushes into you with another grunt, 'eyes on me, sweet girl,' he huffs, 'haven't waited months for you and your pretty little cunt for you to not look at me, have I?'

You open your eyes.

'That's it, there's my pretty girl.'

You clench around him upon hearing his words, legs trembling as he quickens the pace of his thrusts. The head of his cock presses against your cervix and your arms home to his back, nails digging into the flesh of his back.

'I- I've missed you,' you choke out, unable to account for any other emotion as he fucks into you.

You're crying at this point, the tears on the right side of your face soaking into the dressing as he continues to his all the right spots, stretching you out perfectly.

He's ruined you for anyone else, though it doesn't matter; you know you'll never need anyone else when you have him.

'Missed you too, love,' he states through clenched to teeth , 'missed waking up to you and seeing you, but you're not gonna go anywhere now, you're mine.'

'I am, I am,' you dumbly cry, 'no one else's, all yours forever and ever.' 'm sorry for ever leaving you.'

Keeping himself steady with one hand, he brings his other hand to grab your forearm, pulling one of your arms away from his back, taking it into his hold. Your legs tighten around his waist as a crude squelch sounds in the room, h

'Fuck,' you gasp, your hole tightening around him.

'That’s right, love,' he groans, his lips ghosting over your shoulder, his words were low and sickeningly needy, 'you’re so fucking tight,' he moans, resulting in a hiccuped moan escaping you.

Both of you greedily take whatever pleasure came from your messy movements, sweat dropping down your forehead as you tighten you hold on his hand, writhing below him as he continues to hit the spot which has you seeing stars.

'Gonna make sure I'm always here,' you whisper letting out another breathy moan.

Simon maintains a pleasurable pace, a crude slapping sounding in his bedroom, though neither of you care, and through stinging eyes and aching muscles, you admire him in the light of the moon, taking into account all the flaws on his face, the remnants of mistreatment and burdens, swearing to yourself you will never left another pale scar appear on his body for as long as the pair of you live.

'Not gonna let you leave me now, sweetheart,' he begins, staring down at you, his fringe wet with sweat, stray strands sticking to his forehead. 'Gonna keep you safe, fuck,' he schemes, a subconscious smile forming on your face, listening to him speak. 'Make sure y' never want for anything, only me.'

He growls such words with intent and possessiveness, and in the heat of the moment, you're convinced you need no one but him.

And as the tension in your stomach grows tighter, the brunet hit a spot which almost makes you scream, you drag your hand down his back, leaving lines of red behind as you do so. 'And you'll let me do all of that f'r you,' he chuckles.

'I would,' you whimper, 'fuck, I'm close, please,' you beg, as your thighs begin to tremble, you grip on his hand tightening as you press your head back against the pillow.

'Go on, sweetheart,' he says, 'cum for me.'

He winces slightly as he feels your nails press crescents into his skin, his pace growing messy and sporadic as he chases after his own release.

Squeezing your eyes shut, you let out a brittle sob as an orgasm rips through your body.

'Fuck, that's it, sweetheart' he moans, 'I love you,' he grunts out, pressing into your, your cunt against his pubic bone as his hands tremble.

You barely compute the words passing his lips, and in the daze of your release, you continue to cry as he fucks you despite you being overstimulated, a dark groan escaping from the back of his throat as you feel strings of cum paint your insides.

'I- I love you too, so much,' you sniffle, your head falling against the pillow in exhaustion, finding joy in his hold of you and the pleasure which has washed over your body, rendering all your sense his.

Little worries find you in the aftermath, the pair of you much too tired to discuss what can wait for you in the morning, and the only thing that matters to you in the wake of your orgasm is his body being pressed against yours as you slowly drift off knowing that, even if it is just for tonight, you're secure in his hold.

Here, you find a single moment is comparable to an eternity of touches.

＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚ ☾ ˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

In the morning, you find yourself sitting outside of the bakery with the ugly green dress you grew to despise during your first time out of the shore, and as you sit beside Simon tugging at the skirt, you startle when he firmly tugs it down, placing his hand down on your thigh, over the skirt to keep in place.

He does so without even turning his attention to you, and even when you turn to offer him a brief look, he doesn't move, keeping his eyes trained on Johnny as he sips from his mug of tea.

'Kyle said he saw another one,' says the man with the mohawk, 'seems they're waiting near the shore for something to happen, or, they're planning on making their move a lot soon than we thought.'

Your face aches as you chew, gulping your pastry down before speaking. 'They wouldn't act so quickly,' you say, 'they want me to get a taste of this before they take it away; when Raithe is angry, she's unforgiving.'

'That's the lass I saw on the beach, right?' Johnny asks, 'the one with the black hair an' teeth as sharp as daggers.'

'Yeah, she's the one who did this to me,' you say, pointing towards the fingerprints around your neck and the clean dressing stuck to your face. Taking a bite out of your pastry, Simon leans further into the table, keeping his hand pressed firmly against your thigh.

'I've put him on patrol tonight,' he says quietly, 'we'll get him alone, call for them to have him and then that will be the end of it.'

'Y' really think it's gonna be that easy?' Johnny asks, 'they seem pretty pissed, don't think they'd really leave us alone that easily.'

'There's nothing else we can do,' you say, 'unless you wanna go into the water and pull them all out one by one and put a knife through their heads, that is.'

Simon's grip on your thigh tightens.

'Cut their tongue out and throw them back into the water if they try anythin',' he cooly states, 'can't sing then, become nothin' but a fish with claws, hardly a threat. They can suffer for all I care.'

Something stirs in your gut as he says so, and while you feel as though you need to keep the women you devoted your life to, you find yourself torn with the desire of seeing the man being so lethal- of seeing how far he would go to keep you safe.

'Sounds like a plan, Lt,' Johnny responds, 'this stayin' between us?'

'Affirmative,' Simon confirms, 'Gaz an' Price don't need to know about it 'cause it'll only cause more trouble if the Captain finds out about it; he won't let us do it.'

'Then we do it tonight, get rid of him and wipe our hands of him,' you say with a grin, 'about time that son of a bitch got what he deserves.'

＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚ ☾ ˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

In the midst of the night, you travel down the steps of the shore alone keeping your eyes peeled as you tread down the shore towards the sand. Your hands tremble in the breeze as you feet grace the sand, te rolling of the tide whispering for your return.

You stay unmoved by the moon and her red glow as you push forward towards the sea, holding your hand against your face as it aches.

All the smiling proved to be particularly poor for the placement of the mark on your face, though you push through the pain, you lips drawn together as you peer onto the surface of the water.

'I thought you'd return,' a voice calls.

You freeze.

As a wave washes up shore, the webbed hands of a woman appear, dragging her body out of the water. Her claws dig into the surface, her pointed ears twitching upon seeing you.

'You not bring your boyfriend with you?' she pouts, tilting her head to the side, 'would have been nice, y'know, meeting the family and stuff.'

'I'm not here to make small talk,' you sharply respond.

Raithe looks at you, raising her eyebrows as she looks at you.

'Oh?' she laughs, 'then please enlighten me.'

'I'm here to make a deal with you,' you breath, bringing your trembling hands together.

One shot or you've fucked it.

The woman's laughter booms along the sea as she rolls around on the ground, clapping her hands. 'Oh, you wanna make a deal with me now? It's a real shame what's become of you, y'know? If I didn't know any better, I'd say that boyfriend of yours has some explaining to do.'

Her comments cause your blood to boil, yet, you remain calm, looking her in the eyes. 'We have the boy who killed Serelia,' you say, clenching your fists, keeping your arms firmly placed against your side as the woman hums. 'We'll give you him and you can do what you please, forbid me the pleasure of getting to rip him to shreds for what he did to her and leave this village alone.'

'A generous offer you pose my lovely,' Raithe hums, pressing her finger against her plush bottom lip. 'You got anything else to sweeten the deal or is that it?'

'I'll never return to the ocean,' you say. 'I'll stay away, stay here on land. You can do what you please as long as it remains in the ocean and not beyond it; you know nature did not give us such a gift to act in the manner you intend to act concerning the people in this village.'

You step back from the shore, keeping the water from touching your feet.

'How is that fair?' Raithe asks, furrowing her eyebrows. 'You get to stay here and live out your life with the human you have foolishly devoted your life to while we're kept from Serelia because you buried her on land.'

'By staying here you are keeping me from the grave of my mother, Raithe,' you spit, "I know you're upset, but I have been punished enough. I'm giving you what you want- you want to kill the person who killed Serelia, don't you?'

Raithe's grin disappears from her face.

'You've been scheming so long you forget who the true murderer is. If I wanted to kill the person who killed Serelia, I would have slit your fucking throat,' she snaps, 'a human dealt the final blow but you are just as guilty for permitting it.'

'I was looking for her,' you blurt.

'If you were so committed to finding her, she would be here beside me right now, but she isn't; she's buried on the land, away from her home.'

'Simon helped me bury her on the clifftop!' you yell, chest raising and falling rapidly. 'She overlooking our home and it was him who came up with the idea in the first place- there are good humans—'

'Simon,' she repeats, 'slips off the tongue that name does.'

Your heart is pounding in your chest as you look at the wicked woman in the water. Her mocking grin renders you small, fragile, and you realise your mistake in mentioning the name of the man.

'I must see the man you speak of, see if he's a good match for you or if you could do better. Perhaps he would be a good friend for the water, hm?' she teased, bowing her head as another chuckle escapes her.

The crunch of sand alerts the pair of you, and as you look over your shoulder, you catch both Simon and Johnny walking along the shore, Rhys in the middle of them as he fights against their hold with his hands tied in front of him.

A delighted squeal escapes the woman lying in the sand as she catches sight of the tall man in the skull mask. 'Oh, I've seen you!' she exclaims, 'sitting on the beach a lot, hey? One might say you belong in the water with the amount of time you've spent here.'

'Shut it,' you snap, turning your attention to the three men standing behind you.

When your eyes meet with Rhys' you find you heart urges you to disobey the terms of your own deal, ripping him from the arms of the men, all to have the satisfaction of watching him crying and fight as he drowns in an inch of water.

Yet, even that isn't fitting for him.

His cries are muffled behind the gag in his mouth and Johnny does you the favour of pulling it out of his mouth. As he opens his mouth, he looks at you with wide eyes. 'I- I fuckin' knew it!" he exclaims, 'I knew I wasn't dreaming when I saw you run into the sea that night.'

'You killed Serelia,' you snap, crossing your arms over your chest.

'Didn't think it was that difficult to figure out,' he says, 'no one else knew where she was... well, not until you had your screaming and crying fit outside the cabin; that was a—'

He's stopped as Simon shoves him to the ground. He lands with a thud, all the air escaping his lung as he moans out in pain. Placing his boot on top of the mans head, his face is pressed into the wet sand as he turns to address the woman in the water.

'We got y' the one you want,' he sharply says, 'you take him and you leave.'

'Or?' the woman asks,.

'I cut your tongue out and feed it to the dogs in the village,' he snaps.

Rhys' cries are muffled as Raithe looks Simon in the eyes. Your eye twitches at the prolonged silence, though, when she whistles you find your nerves escaping you.

'A few months ago, you would have had his head for speaking to one of your own like that,' Raithe sneers looking at you, 'but love has your mind warped, my sweet urchin, yes it does,' she scoffs, her eyes narrowing as she turns her attention down towards the water. 'You have yourself a deal, Simon,' she says with a smile.

Relieving his boot from the head of the sobbing man on the ground, Rhys picks his head up, fat tears rolling down his face as he writhes on the ground, attempting to push himself up off of the ground. 'P- Please, I'm sorry,' he sobs, snot trailing down his upper lip as more heads appear from out of the water.

You're far from envious of his position when his shoulders are grabbed. Though, you long to be in the water for what is about to happen.

His screams are hoarse and rough as he's ripped from his home, and as you walk back to stand beside Johnny and Simon. Rhys claws and fights to stay on land as Raithe pulls him further and further towards the water.

Other webbed hands appear and the shrill shriek the man lets out is cut off by a hand covering his mouth as he's dragged into the water.

Upon his disappearance, you allow a breath to escape your mouth as you lean against Simon, rubbing your tired eyes. For months you have dreamt of this very moment, the moment the man who caused so much trouble is finally met with the punishment he deserves, and when his hand breaks the surface of the water again, you grin at the sight of the sea turning red, chunks of his clothing surfacing.

As savage as sharks are the sirens.

'It's done,' you mumble, turning away from the scene.

Simon looks down at you, 'you wanna go home?' he asks.

You nod your head, as the three of you begin to walk up the beach, your blood running cold as a familiar cackle catches your attention, though, you do not turn to address the woman. Instead, you catch Simon's hand in yours pushing further up the beach as Raithe calls out to the three of you.

'Lovely meeting ya, Simon! Hope to see you again some other time!'

His hold on your hand tightens just as it had done during the night before as you walk away from the sea with him by your side, never intending to let go of him ever again.

＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚ ☾ ˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

It's as though you never left him, and every waking moment you spend with him is a blessing. How a human can be a home is a strange concept to you, though, its an oddity that you're fond of.

'Are you gonna eat your dinner or are you going to keep staring at me, sweetheart?' asks the man with a laugh.

Dropping your head, you look down at the plate of food you helped him prepare, your cheeks flushing with colour.

The wound left by your absence is but a wilting scab at this point, the skin beneath unmarked by the actions of your past for the pair of you have an understanding of you where your loyalties lie, and as you pick your head back up to look at him, you understand that your loyalties lie with one another.

'I don't know,' you mumble, 'difficult to take my eyes off of you.'

He grunts at your words, picking his fork up from the side of his plate. 'Your foods going to get cold,' he warns.

You pick your fork up, rolling your eyes, 'you're no fun.'

He lets out a short laugh, 'of course not, love. Got a job to stick to after all.'

'Not while you're with me you don't,' you say.

'Once a siren, always a siren,' he comments.

Setting your fork down, you grab a boiled potato off of your plate, throwing it at him. Unfortunately, he's aware of your plot and manages to duck of of the way before it hits him.

A small laugh escapes you as you're quick to push your chair out, raising to your feet as he does the same. A squeal escapes you are you rush out of the kitchen into the living room with him hot on your trail.

Sprinting up the steps to his bedroom, you shriek as he grabs you and pulls you against his chest. 'Let me gooooo,' you whine, writhing in his hold, 'it was an accident, it slipped out of my hand I was literally about to eat it!'

You land on the bed with a thud, continuing to laugh as he looms over you, his forehead pressed against yours as you look up at him with a bright smile on your face.

'You've got to believe me.'

'You picked it up and you threw it at me,' he answers back, 'I know y' clumsy, sweetheart, but fuck me, are you really that bad?' he asks, pressing his forehead against yours.

Bringing your hands up, you hold either side of his face, looking into his eyes with a sigh. 'I love you,' you say, abandoning the joke the pair of you were tangled in. His stoic expression shatters as he smiles down at you, placing a chaste kiss on your lips.

'I love you too,' he utters, before placing his lips back on yours.

In the safety of his arms and his home, you live in high spirits as you know, even when the four walls and the roof are not there to shelter you from a storm, the man with his lips against yours and a hand under your skirt will always be there for you whenever you need him.

Selfishly, you hope he's there forever and ever all for you and only you as you cherish every single part of him.

The regrets from your actions in the past remain on you in the form of the scar on your cheek, though, he sees you no different as he watches your naked body dripping with sweat in the confines of your bedroom, even when you're simply sitting in the library reading a book.

All the time his eyes are on you as though you're the only girl in the world and in return, he knows that you're eyes remain on him and only him.

'You're gonna be the death of me,' he breathes, as you shift, feeling his fingers pressed against your hole.

A smirk appears on your lips.

'Only if it's by your hand I die and no one else's.'

＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚ ☾ ˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

'Simon.'

In the dead of night he wakes to the faint sound of a whisper.

It's something calling for him, a song which shakes the very vibrations of his home, and as he opens his eyes, he captures you sleeping soundly beside him, though, he doesn't care for you as he pushes himself up and out of bed.

His headaches and he wobbles as he climbs from out of his bed. It's as though his body is on autopilot, permitting whatever strange force is pushing him to proceed with his usual routine as he gets up from out of bed.

He walks as though he's a monster, devoid of all consciousness, his limps sluggish and flimsy as he pulls on his clothes for work. You don't move and inwardly, he's unsure why he's doing so; the moon is out, full and round as she peers through the open window, and he knows it's still going to be a while before he has to leave for work.

Still, the urge pushes him to get ready for the day, and he reaches for the skull mask settled against the table near the window of his bedroom, tying it around his head.

You remain sleeping in bed as he moves downstairs, determined to find the noise which causes his head to pound. It feels as though someone is pressing their fingers into his head all to see which part of the brain bleeds the most.

The answer is all of it, though the voice continues to pick away at his skull with such persistence he's rendered aggravated as he walks through the door.

His entire body is on fire as he treads the streets he was walked so many times, though his feet drag against the roads of the silent village, arms firmly pressed against his sides as he presses on with tired eyes and a dry mouth.

The voice changes its tune, no longer calling his name, istead, speaking words.

'Foolish mortal men.'

In a conscious state he would be questioning the words addressed to him in such a manner, he would be questioning why he walks with the intent of making it to the water, and he would be returning back to his home with an ache in his chest for ever thinking of leaving you alone.

But he doesn't.

Instead, he drags his feet with determination coursing through his veins.

To the ocean he must go; the voice is calling him and he cannot fight against the words bouncing off of the streets of the village.

'Sinking into the watery depths of the...'

It grows tired as he edges closer to the water, the crashing of the water flooding his ears, coaxing his burning mind with a brief cure. t's not enough, however, his mouth is dry and his tongue burns, eyes longing for the fiery thirst to subside.

His entire body feels as though it's on fire, and the sea stares back at him, water washing up the shore as the arms of a human would when offering a friend a hug.

Something else is staring too.

'Sirens den.'

The voice is oh so soft, almost a whisper as he makes it onto the beach. The village seems so puny in comparison to the greatness of the vast ocean and he wonders why he ever bothered living on land when the ocean i right her at his fingertips.

Shrugging his cloak from off of his shoulders, he releases himself from the burden of the confines of that stupid cloak, the balaclava from around his mouth falling to the ground after.

It all feels so freeing, to fall under the command of the great sea, to see the beauty in the very thing he has despised for so long. Such an outlook is a blessing, he finds.

It's necessary. It's constant.

He is nothing in comparison of the ocean and her greatness.

No one is anything but flesh and bone existing in one place at one time while she is there, her arms wrapped around the entirety of the planet.

How foolish he has been.

'For a woman in the sea,'

He thinks of you and all you have done for him, how you have freed him, though he finds you and your existence pale in existence of te water which invites him in with open arms.

At first, you were difficult to deal with, untrusting.

But she isn't, she guides him and she's leading him to safety- to the place he belongs. Such a blessing she presents him with and everything you have done for him is nothing as she cools his burning flesh.

It's better than any orgasm he has reached while in bed with you, so inviting that he proceeds to walk into the water deeper. Nothing is enough, her presence is too little. He needs more of her to settle the dull ache in his head and he wades through the water with the intent of finding such.

'is never just a friend.'

The tune stops.

Suddenly, the sea is no longer in his favour and he's turned away with a cold rush of water covering him.

A sharp gasp escapes him as he looks around him, the water up to his waist, waves crashing against his bulky frame as he looks around with stinging eyes. His blood runs cold as he turns his attention back to the village. Then his eyes fall back onto the water.

He knows better than to trust the situation, wasting no time to turn away from the distant abyss of the water, pushing himself through the water all to make it back to land.

To make it back to you.

The depth of the water is relieved, sinking from his waist to mid thigh.

A grunt escapes him as a surge of agony hits him with the fierce intent of keeping him from getting home and he lands with a splash into the water as razor sharp nails are pulled from out of his his thigh.

'Unfaithful scum,' utters a voice as hands from all angles poke from out the water, grabbing him as he attempts to fight his way from out of their hold.

They're merciless as the hold him and keep him to the water while his heart and mind long to be back in bed beside you. He fights and fights, though in his drowsy state he's far too out of it to do anything.

'She's better off without you, Simon.'

＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚ ☾ ˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

You awake in bed alone, a banging at the door ruining your brain. However, you don't let it distract you as you spend a moment looking at the empty spot in the bed with a frown.

It's miserable to wake without him in the morning as you have grown fond of spending time with him, lying in bed, drawing patterns on his bare chest, listening to his many stories, or simply just basking in the heat of him.

The bed is cold without him and you shiver as you push yourself up, scoffing at the manic knocks against the door. It's persistent, nearly urgent. You pick up the pace, wrapping Simon's shirt around you as you rush down the stairs to the front door.

Grabbing the handle you pull it open, 'about fuckin' time, Si', you're—'

'What?' you blurt out, looking at Johnny and Gaz standing at the door, 'he's at the station, isn't he?'

The pair of them look at each other before looking at you.

'Nae, lass,' Johnny says, his mouth falling as he looks at you. 'We've been looking for him.'

Your blood runs cold.

He's probably with the Lord or something, it wouldn't be the first time he's be asked for a favour by him.

'Where have you checked?' you ask, quickly slipping on your sandals.

'We've been up and down all the streets to his usual spots, we've even checked the Lords house and he hasn't seen him either... this isn't like him,' Kyle explains, 'he's committed to his job, he wouldn't just not show up and—'

'Have you checked the beach?' you blurt.

Both of them shake their heads and with that, you're running out of the house, rushing to towards the beach.

A wave of panic washes over you, and as you rush down the main street of the village with teary eyes, you feel as though you're rushing to Serelia all over again, only, this time, Simon isn't behind you to comfort you.

People blurt out curses as you push yourself through the crowds, bounding towards the beach just as you did when you returned all those months ago.

Your chest burns by the time you make it to the steps, and as you run down, you stop at the sight of a black mound on the shore. Gulping thickly, you rush towards the pile of fabric, reaching down to retrieve it with a trembling hand.

It's his cloak.

Tearing your eyes away from it, you look down the rest of the beach, dropping the fabric as you follow a scattered trail of belongings. You pass by his balaclava which has been covered in sand.

The wind beats against you, pushing your hair back as you fight for your breath. There are pieces of him covering the beach, just as Serelia's scales covered the floor in the room of that dingy little cabin.

All hope is crushed as, right beside the water you spy a small chunk of bone sitting in the sand. You don't wait as you rush towards the water, spying the shape of his skull mask sitting right before the mercy of the water.

It's as though you're in a nightmare you cannot wake from.

You can't breathe.

As the realisation hits you and the skull mask sitting on the shore stares back at you, you fall to your knees, your wide as you look out at the murky sea, falling onto your stomach at your fingertips ghost the skull sitting against the shore.

A jagged breath escapes you as you pull your hand away, unable to catch your breath as you fall backwards onto you bottom, hands pressed against the sand. Rushed steps appear behind you, though you don't budge, nor do you flinch as a firm hand is placed on your shoulder.

Johnny appears in front of you, his mouths muffled as a tear slips from your twitching eye, staring out into the water all to see Raithe staring at you in the distance, a wicked from forming on her face as she pulls a skull mask from out of the water, holding it up by the silk string he used to tie it around his head with.

Your eyes fall back to the skull sitting on the surface, you breathing quickening at you turn your head to the side, heaving as a cold numbness floods your sense. Your tremble as you force out a sob, your throat tightening.

The skull meters away from you is not his mask.

It's him.

𝙼𝚊𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚝

TAGS: (If you would like to be added to the tag list let me know!) @forever-twenty-two-years-old @phantomreadsandreblogs @iizx7y

[greypistacchio]

every time i think we have uncovered the very worst that john winchester has to offer, at last, i get to an episode like 9.07 ("Bad Boys") and i am proven wrong once more :)

seriously though, this episode packed a punch and a half, and did a freaking good job at showing, not telling, what Dean went through as the older brother. not only was he desperate enough to take care of Sam to try to steal food, and end up being arrested over it. he was also thrown in Sonny's home for two entire months, because his dad didn't give half a shit. he sent Sam to Bobby's, and left Dean to rot at Sonny's, and he only came back once there was a job that he probably couldn't pull of without backup from his child.

his child.

his child whom he left to rot at some stranger's home for boys.

his child whose crime was losing the money he'd left him and his 12 year old brother while he fucked off to wherever for God knows how long.

this episode offers colourful insight into just how messed-up Dean's upbringing was, and the worst part is that this might be the first time thus far we have seen a happy younger Dean Winchester. when he looks at the picture of him and Robin, there is so much peace in the photograph. and younger Dean looks so soft, somehow, in a way he hasn't throughout 98% of the show. it makes it all the more painful to watch him try to hit up a conversation with Robin at the diner, of course, since we now know that they were together for long enough that Dean was serious about her. 16 year old Dean Winchester already didn't trust the world if it got him killed, so allowing himself to get close to Robin despite not knowing how long he'd be able to be with her for... he must've felt quite strongly about her.

i cannot remember how old Dean is supposed to be in the high school episode in which Sam retaliates against some bully who later becomes a ghost and whatnot. it doesn't really help that the casting choices for younger Dean are all over the place tbh, because in that high school episode he honestly looked like he already has a mortgage to pay off ::)

but if we assume the most logical thing, which is that he would've been older than he was in 9.07, then it gets even worse. in 9.07, 16 year old Dean learns how to kiss girls and is happy to take Robin to prom. not even a year later (since he's still in high school?) he's making out with girls left and right without committing to a single one of them, cheating on several situationships whom he keeps leading on.

makes me wonder how Dean was really feeling back then. his father forced him to vanish from Robin's life, which Dean mostly did because of Sam anyway—notice how he doesn't really make a choice until he looks through the window and sees little Sam. how is he meant to open up to anyone again? making out is fun and having sex feels good, so he actively seeks out physical intimacy and pleasure. but he never gets attached, and he never lets his walls down.

and who can blame him? he's constantly waiting for the other shoe to drop, for John Fucking Winchester to show up and drag them back onto the road without giving a fuck about whether uprooting his kids again. whether it makes them lonely.

it's so crystal clear by now that Dean is unbearably lonely, and has been so for most of his life. he keeps looking for closeness through physical intimacy, but doesn't let himself get too attached. when he does, bad things happen. he let himself care about Jo, his little sister by choice, and she died to give him and Sam a chance at stopping Lucifer. he let himself care about Lisa, and right as he was starting to settle into a normal life by her side the angels decided that he didn't get to retire, plus she nearly died. he used to hook up, but wouldn't be caught dead staying the night, because bad things happen when Dean cares.

which, of course, is premium DeanCas analysis material, but I'll leave that for the next time they eye-fuck on main.

anyway i just want to make clear that I hope John Winchester is burning in the deepest and filthiest corner of fucking Hell forevermore. fuck this guy.

(also allergy is doing me so dirty, apologies for the radio silence bc i have been squirming in bed inbetween dog walks) (i think i am too asexual for horny plant season)

[itz-mixuu]

Wet Desires

: Bsf!Heeseung x f!Reader

Smut warnings: a bit of verbal sex, cheating (ikr), oral, lmk if i missed anything

MDNI !!!!!!

You're the hottest. Everyone knows that, including Lee Heeseung, your best friend since the 4th grade.

What you don't know is that Heeseung's had a crush on you ever since you two met. But he cannot do anything about it cause you are already dating the most popular guy in the school, Park Sunghoon.

Every time Heeseung looks at you, his mind keeps wandering back to the thought of what would've happened if he had asked you out first.

୨୧┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈୨୧

One morning, you're walking out of your room, and you see Heeseung passed out on the couch. "Wake up, dummy." you give his forehead a flick, and he jerks awake. You laugh at his face, as he remembers the dream he just had. "What happened? You look like you've seen a ghost." you ask in a concerned voice. That voice, the one he heard mere minutes ago, in his dream, begging him to let her cum.

"Nothing just a nightmare." he replies, as he rushes to his room, leaving you pouring yourself some orange juice. As soon as he reaches his room, he locks the door and collapses onto the bed. He can't believe he had a sex dream about Choi Y/N, his best friend, his nothing more than a crush.

You knock on the door to his room and when he doesn't answer, you just leave to get ready for school.

For the rest of the week, Heeseung just ignores you, and whenever you try to talk to him, walks away. One day you decide to confront him about what the hell's going on with him.

"Yo, Heeseung!" you shout outside of the science building, next to the dormitories where the two of you live. "You wanna tell me what the fucks going on with you?" He turns to walk away but you block the way. "Can we talk at our dormitory if you really wanna know?" he says, surprising you as he agrees. "Yeah, cool cool. Sure thing. Let's go." you answer.

Back at the dormitory, you both are sitting on the sofa, facing each other. "So, you gonna tell me whatsup?" you ask.

"Yeah, so the reason I wasn't talking to you was that I kinda had a dream about you. A weird one." Heeseung says. You chuckle, and he lowered his head. "What? Was it a sex dream?" you say jokingly. When he doesn't reply your smile vanishes. "Wait, seriously? Goddamnit, Heeseung. You could've just said something!" He looks at you, apparently shocked.

"Fuck, y/n. I'm so sorry. But I don't wanna risk our friendship, you know?" he says, his voice low. I chuckle. "C'mon, I don't think you should've ignored me. You should've said that!" you whisper-shout. He looks at you with wide eyes. "So...?"

You step towards him and put a hand on his shoulder. He looks up at you with his bambi-like eyes.

"So... do you wanna tell me what happened in the dream?" You say, playing with his hair. He puts his hand on your waist, pulling you in closer.

"I think I'd rather show you." Heeseung answers back. "Oh? Well, I'd like that~" you say as he pulls you onto his lap, taking off your pants. "Alright, then, y/niee." You put your arms around his neck and pull him in for a kiss. It's full of lust and desire.

He pulls back and says, "Get on your knees." You obey him, kneeling down on the floor in front of him on your knees.

"Open up." Hee says, patting your mouth. You open your mouth as he said. He puts himself in your mouth, not leaving a bit of space. "mmmm..." you mumble. He chuckles, pushing himself till the end of your throat.

His eyes roll to the back of his head and cums inside of your mouth, pulling out. "Hee..." You start. "Yes, butterfly?" He says, raising an eyebrow. "I need you in me."

He chuckles. "Well, sure." he raises you up, taking you to his bedroom. "Let's make sure you're nicely prepped before." He adds as he puts you on the bed after taking off all your clothes. "And don't worry, we're not even started."

______________________________________________________________

its my first work so i hope its good~

[juniperhillpatient]

hey mutual i was just looking through your jackietravis tag and i just want to say i CANNOT WAIT to hear your thoughts on the finale.

Oh my gosh HI, my beloved mutual!

Well, I think THIS post (not mine) does a great job of summarizing the wildness of Jackie/Travis in the finale lol :)

But seriously, let's talk about the fact that Travis is still thinking about Jackie, still imagining himself as her! THIS is one of my favorite Jackie/Travis moments. Jackie doesn't ultimately seduce Travis with her usual sweet, flirty fun ways that she tries initially at the Doomcoming dance. Instead, she gets him to kiss her by reminding him that they are doomed. The "we're just shells with nothing inside" speech is what gets him to break & kiss Jackie even though he just admitted to being in love with Natalie.

Jackie & Travis don't even necessarily have real romantic feelings for each other. They're just the arms they fall into when they're both hurt & at their lowest - Jackie after the betrayal from Shauna, Travis after what he perceives as a betrayal from Nat. They're each other's comfort, their last recourse when they're both desperate & sad & aware of how doomed they probably are.

Part of what I love about these 2 & their dynamic is that they ARE the definition of "doomed by the narrative all by yourself darling?" They are both so doomed & so tragic & there was never a happy ending for either of them in the books. Not Travis, whose death is the mystery that kicks off Natalie's story in the adult timeline. Not Jackie, who's loss defines Shauna in the adult timeline, forever haunted by her ghost. They're both such dead wives <3

THIS is a really good meta about how Jackie & Travis are both treated as the group's "property" & I think it's interesting that in this season where Travis's mind & body have been so repeatedly violated & used, he thinks of Jackie, who was iced out (literally) & left to die for the crime of speaking up for herself & not acting as "property." (It's honestly more complicated than that, but you know what I mean).

Travis has been treated like Lottie's property for a lot of the season. We know that he manipulated Lottie into thinking Akilah was the new prophet of the wilderness, not him, & that he regretted it when he saw Akilah suffering in similar ways that he did under Lottie's thumb. But let's talk about his time as Lottie's prophet: Pushed to do drugs & make himself see things by the very person who initiated it when the group sexually assaulted him & almost murdered him when he was drugged unknowingly all the way back in Doomcoming!

I know that Travis said the thing about how "his favorite thoughts are Jackie's" & made the comment about Jackie & Shauna's slumber party make-outs partially to piss Shauna off. BUT it's clearly something that was in his head. Whether you want to go with the supernatural explanation or not that's INTERESTING.

Travis also mentions having some of Javi's thoughts, which is heartbreaking. I don't know if I think it's actually something supernatural (I've always sort of leaned toward...no? probably not?) but EITHER WAY. Travis has been hallucinating the thoughts of his dead brother, & the thoughts of his dead situationship who he related to in some fucked-up ways & that's WILD.

Does he think that Jackie & Javi's thoughts come to him because he ate them? He doesn't mention Laura Lee or Crystal & SURELY given that he spent this season interacting almost exclusively with Lottie (& Akilah, but he spent a LOT of time with Lottie) Laura Lee's thoughts would've come up.

Does Travis feel connected to Jackie when he hears her thoughts? Does he remember how they shared that messed-up comfort in each other's arms when they were both at their lowest? Does he look to her ghost for comfort because she was also assaulted by Lottie that night - though not nearly as violently, she was just locked in a closet but she was still humiliated for the blood on her clothes right after losing her virginity & treated like nothing by the rest of the girls. They both lost their personhood, in a way that night. I feel like maybe Travis doesn't see it that way but he might still connect with Jackie because of that, if that makes sense.

Anyway, I'm TOTALLY rambling. I love my doomed by the narrative failed situationship girlies <3

[silkygoldmilkweed]

"FISHES"

OK just watched "Fishes" for the first (with husband) and second (rewatched by myself) times. Haven't officially watched past this but am somewhat familiar with later lore from fanvids and tiktoks and such.

What follows is my notes made during my rewatch.

* You're telling me Donna may well still be hosting Seven Fishes annually? What the fuck?

* Sydney cannot understand that family until she goes to Seven Fishes but I would not wish that on a clump of hair clogging a drain much less the People's Princess. I now see why Carm has some social-emotional challenges tho!

* I look forward to seeing Uncle Lee Lane never again, but I'm sure he'll be back to haunt us, but I do hope we get a return visit from cousin Michelle Berzatto (Sarah Paulson), who is cool.

* Wait is Uncle Lee Lane the only straight talker in the family and just happens to hate Mikey and visa versa? Is he trying to give Donna a real estate commission? And he owns part of the Bear?? Who even is he?

* And the dad is a ghost who Carm barely even remembers because he was so young when he died?

* Poor Mikey, you fuckin' animal.

* Poor Nat.

* Poor Carmy.

* I have to google and see how Carmy made Sprite for Tiff.

* What diagnoses do we think this lady has other than "emotionally manipulative alcoholic bitch"? Jesus Christ. Bipolar? One of the Type B personality disorders? The alcohol makes it worse. As a wise psychiatrist once told me (RIP Dr. Phelan, ILY forever), "You can be mentally ill or you have a substance abuse problem, but you can't have both or you're going to die." Mikey had both, seems like.

* Mikey and Richie together are horrific and I appreciate how Carm kind of recoils from their subtype of bully bro small-time thug dysfunction.

* "I don't have a love of my life!" "This is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity for you to score with a girl that's stacked physically and mentally." We'll talk more about those two statements later.

* Sydney is a literal fucking ray of sunshine and she cannot be allowed into this haunted nest of death adders and black velvet bed linens.

* This lady sent SARAH PAULSON into a shame spiral? She's that bad?! Like, surreal.

* This actually puts the Faks (and Richie?) in a comparatively flattering light because they are not...malicious addicts? Because they're court jesters but with kind hearts? This is a real devastating play, fam.

* I never vibed with Jon Bernthal before. I knew from Fury that there was value there but it didn't speak to me. But now I get it. This episode also conveys the monumentality of Mikey's love for Nat and Carm, and the tragedy of it. Fuccccckkkk.

* This woman needs to be institutionalized. I cannot have her tormenting Natalie like this for the rest of her life.

* I used to follow a guy on social media who was like, a former Navy Seal and a tech guy and a family man and a huge fan of Wendell Berry and now and again he would post about his parents and how their "parenting" resulted in him becoming a Navy SEAL. I see some parallels between Carmy and him. Navy SEAL guy's wife was slowly educating him on how unhinged his parents had been but he wasn't quite ready to process it fully. Anyway, my god.

* What in the Miss Havisham / Joan Crawford / Cruella deVille (animated) / Mother Gothel (Disney, animated) / Rapaccini's daughter /Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf is this shit?!

* "Cousin, you're scaring the normals." Also gonna circle back to this one

* Stephen's grace was a delight, as was his hug offer to Natalie, and I actually believe him when he says "I very much look forward to this every year" and strangely you can tell he means it in a loving way.

* No seriously Syd could literally be killed by that woman.