#it’s the little mermaid hair sweep for me

[emotionally-charged-arson]

Some unfinished Henry’s a la Procreate. Which will likely stay unfinished bc I’m on a traditional art kick at the moment. 🎨

Sorry to be repetitive, toot my own horn and draw the most vile piece-of-shit Ayreon character over and over again but this is genuinely the best character design work I have ever done

[hoseoksluna]

STORY | knj

pairing: soft dom!namjoon x reader

genre: smut

word count: 7.8k

summary: yours and namjoon’s story is a bit more perverted than traditional.

warnings: serious big dick namjoon, rough touches, hair pulling, use of pet names and titles, dom/sub dynamics, horny namjoon can't help but palm himself:(, desperation, masturbation, spanking, praising, tit slapping, nipple play, teasing, oc and namjoon not being comfortable with certain practices, playful orgasm denial, oral sex (m. and f. receiving), rimming && ass play :3, cum eating yum yum, tit fucking, orgasm countdown fuck

note: smut is so fucking difficult to write but i loved every second of it. i love writing about namjoon, he just makes me feel so safe. this is purely my fantasy with him and i'll probably dream about this for a long, long time. please, take your time reading this as it's pretty long. i hope you enjoy it and that it makes you dream like it made me dream. as always, let me know what you think in the comments, like the post and if you want to—reblog, but i won't pressure you angels <3. love you guys so much, thank you for all the love. kisses!

side note: i miss namjoon and i wish he were here. all i can do is watch his lives and pretend he never left for the military.

Namjoon makes himself comfortable on the wooden chair before you.

The scene is set. Like a mermaid bathing in the sun, you rest your elbows on the cold rim of the ivory bathtub. Small surges of violet-tinted water, perfumed with your scent, blanket your body in a thin layer of glittery sheen. They kiss the tiger stripes along the curve of your bottom as it rolls over, passing by the dip in the small of your waist, breathing in your patchouli fragrance in greeting. The bath bomb, cornered by your knees, sizzles and spins, the width of the tub allowing your form to float like a little fish in the open sea as copiously as you please.

A gift from your loving boyfriend. Both the clawfoot, and the bath bomb.

The scene expands. Your Eric slouches in his seat, balancing his greatest and most stellar possession on top of his lap with one hand while he runs the other through his silver mane. He fits perfectly in the picturesqueness of the background. Soft orange and chocolate tiles zig zag behind his back, transposing him momentarily into a sunlit illustration, where he rests in the shade of a palm tree on a faraway beach. Reads the book to pass the time as he waits for you to emerge from the waters. Sets it down on his lap as soon as his gaze catches yours. Periwinkle clams for a bra, panties thin and translucent from the oncoming waves, you rest your front on the sand. He smiles down at you and you know for a fact you won’t be able to get on your feet. Might have to learn how to walk, too.

You keep this picture in your heart. Mentally, you rip out the page. Fold it and tuck it somewhere within you to keep it safe.

Legs outstretched by the sides of the tub, clad in slacks in the muted color of a persimmon, it’s almost as though you’re propped on his lap. Sporting a simple white button-down, sleeves rolled, you’re close enough to touch the material if you so much as wished so. From his angle, Namjoon sees nothing but the roundness of your eyes through the brownish rims of his glasses, hair unkempt in their dampness as the short paper thin layers frame your flushed face in such a celestial way. If he were to lean over, it’d be a different kind of book.

The one in the clasp of his hand isn’t a tale as old as time.

It’s one of your favorites. An existential story that ridicules the traditional. A transfusion of liveness to a certain forgotten room of your heart. The unlit one while the others brim with sunlight, with the golden sepia projection of the contents of the fairytales you love so much made into stop motion. A coloring book of some sort, hues fitting into the lines by your helping hand—the attention of your eyes. 

Metamorphosis by Franz Kafka. The book that sweeps away all those cobwebs in that chamber. Makes it less lonely.

It’s all you had talked about on your dates when you and Namjoon first started dating, having been reading it at the time. You had confided in him that the writer was the only person who understood you without ever learning your name, without familiarizing himself with the subtleties of your calamitous life.

No one has ever shared something so vulnerable with him, especially not on the first date. Not that he’d gone on many, but the few that fell into his grasp were hell to get through. Insufferable, to say the least. Absolutely superficial.

He went home in the rain thinking of you. Not for boyish reasons. But for reasons of literary character, of melancholy nature that squeezed his long-unexpressed heart in perpetuating intervals too consistent for his liking. Filled it with a nectar bubbling with a newly blooming love for books, with a sudden longing to be found within the words. His body decided for him that it was yours. Yours to teach again how to read between the lines.

The scene breaks out of the margins on the page.

“Is the water warm enough?”

The idea constructed by his own geniality, it’s by his will that you’re basking in your bare femininity before his eyes. Idleness lingered in the living room between the pair of you, the flimsy curtain by your balcony lifting and falling in a little dance as the cold air perfused the place with the drowsiness of winter. Pulling his eyes away from the TV to sink a soft kiss into your hair, Namjoon muttered into your ear: “How about I draw you a bath and read to you for a little bit?”

You said nothing. The click of your phone turning off and your hasty movements to untangle yourself from the warmth of his limbs answered him for you. Leaving your clothes as a trail for him to follow, you gave him a glimpse of your ass, arched and pointed in the draft before you ran away. Before he scolded you with his index finger like a father, raising to his feet to close the balcony door.

In two seconds he joined you in the bathroom. Leaned against the doorframe as you circled a pink roll-on lip oil you’ve been obsessed with lately around the perimeters of your lips. The one that makes them look bigger, juicier. That makes them more fun to kiss and toy with. The one that leaves his length sticky once playtime is over. You seem to cast aside little trinkets of yourself for him to collect everywhere you go.

Tits pushed towards each other while you slightly bent over the vanity sink, tapping the excess into the fullness of your mouth, Namjoon palmed himself. The tiredness from work earlier weakened his self-control to the point of unrestrained indulgence. And the plumpness of your ass just encouraged it.

You fluffed your hair and Namjoon ran the bath. Disappeared into the kitchen for a moment to retrieve the purple bath bomb from the plastic bag on the counter, one that he got from the convenience store for you. Dragon fruit and hibiscus. Thought of the twinkle that would sparkle beneath your lashes upon seeing it. Wasn’t disappointed when you exceeded his expectations.

Having seen it in the mirror, almost microscopic and round in his big palm, you turned on your heel and burst into giddiness as he took off the plastic packaging with his teeth. You pouted in gratefulness when he showed it to you. 

“You planned this, didn’t you?”

You hugged him, locking your hands behind the nape of his neck. Maybe he did, maybe he didn’t, and he told you so. A bit hoarsely, though.

Namjoon struggled not to moan. Groaned a little when he felt the curvature of your belly against his hardness and the pointed nubs of your tits beneath his pecs. Managed to conceal it, thankfully, by clearing his throat and by allowing an authentic grin to bloom on his dimpled face at your joy. Thanked the heavens for all the bath bombs in the world.

He placed it in your much smaller palm for you to plop it into the increasing water. Watched your eyes widen at the gilded glitter spreading around. Spurred you to get in. Held your hand as you lifted one limb, then the other. Knelt by you as you engulfed yourself in the violet tinge, your hair swirling around you, silky and ethereal, coming to a stop at the top of your head to fix a splendid crown for such a princess like yourself.

Namjoon turned off the tap while you rested your back against the curved wall of the tub. You swooshed your hands around, gathering the glitter into the fine lines of your palms. Looked up at him in elation, the twinkle doing its thing in the glossiness of your eyes, and smiled. Namjoon smiled back at you. His hand reached out to your chest in a fervent need to touch you. The glitter adorned your chest with its perfect speckles and they resurfaced when you arched your back in response. Clung to his palm in the middle of your tits, held on tighter as he took a detour to your chin by brushing across your sensitive nipple to hear your little mewls because if he made a sound, then you must, too. Because if he was horny, he must get you on the same page as well. Fairness is very important to Namjoon.

He squeezed your breast hard. Pinched your nipple between his thumb and the knuckle of his index finger in broken intervals, similar to little dashed lines of Morse code. You imagined he was telling you something through that secret language as you closed your eyes during an intense wave of pleasure coursing down your body, and perhaps he truly did because he pulled your legs apart harshly when you pressed them together. Punished you by lightly slapping your tit—the same one he abused with those firm touches—the force splashing you in the face with violet pearls. All as if you disobeyed the command he transmitted wordlessly.

The command possibly being: Only I will give you the release you need when I decide it’s time.

You bit your bottom lip to suppress the neediness erupting in you. Namjoon wrapped his hand around your throat and you dragged his rolled sleeve further up his arm, so it wouldn’t have gotten soaked in the water. He smeared your lip oil just because he wanted—just because he could, scattering the rosy tint around your mouth messily. He took advantage of the aftermath of his punishment and collected those tender beads, now translucent upon your carmine skin. Not with the thumb as you expected him to, but using the pillows of his lips, he kissed the round bulb on your cheek. It melted on the puffy surface when he withdrew. He looked you in the eye for a mere beat of time before he lowered to your other cheek to collect another trinket. None of the corners of your mouth were overlooked, not even the button of your nose. He peppered those kisses to erase the harshness of his selfishness, supporting your lifted chin with his long thumb beneath it, still sticky from the consistency of the lip oil, apologizing, smoothing down his sternness until you giggled.

Once he cleaned you, Namjoon returned the digit to your smudged mouth, delicious in his sight due to the essence of sloppiness that gets his length even harder in his pants. He presses the pad against it, already craving your tongue. You kissed it, a thank you for his softness, before you granted him the access. Tongue toying with the tip, you said hello in the mother language of the love stored in your bodies for each other. Wrapped both of your hands around his wrist. Didn’t break eye contact. Smiled, teeth showing happily, when he bit his lip, but soon got distracted by a small movement on his groin area out of your view.

You peeled your back off of the tub to curiously take a peek, but Namjoon pushed you back to your place. All while his thumb remained sucked by your mouth. You frowned at him, dismayed by his recurring roughness that you weren’t used to.

Namjoon tapped your cheek twice with his fingers to let you know it was enough and rose to his feet.

“Joon, what’s going on? Why are you so rough with me?” you asked, voice tender, the question shooting arrows into the wideness of his back.

Stopping in the doorway, he hung his head, fingers coming to intertwine with the short hair above his neck. “I’m sorry, baby. Let me get the book.”

A moment later, he returned with the stellar possession in one hand and a wooden chair in the other. He slumped against it, fingers finding the first chapter unwittingly.

You swam forward as if to the shore, propping your elbows on the rim to be closer to him.

“Is the water warm enough?”

You nod, your teeth picking at the excess skin on your lips. Namjoon notices and, as if registering the reason why you put on the lip oil in the first place, he leans towards you and rubs away the smudginess he caused. As if the walk into your dining room sobered him enough from the dark wine of his lust that he now regretted his actions.

“You really scared me when you were rough,” you said calmly, unafraid to uncover your feelings, knowing you’ll be caught now that you’ve jumped head-first into the hungry sea of honesty.

He apologizes again. Repeats it in the aphonic form of a deep chaste kiss.

“Won’t do it again,” he promises. “Unless you ask me to.”

Your lips form a smile, but it quivers into a straight line just as quickly as it appeared. The yet unknown cause behind his untypical behavior troubles you.

“Did something happen today at work?”

Namjoon sighs. “No, I’m just tired.”

“Just tired or tired of your job?” you try, tilting your head to the side, remembering this isn’t the first time quiet broodiness clutched his figure when the clock struck five.

“Both.” He kneads the heel of his palm against his eye. 

Not expecting his honesty, your eyebrows shoot up in surprise. It propels you to investigate further. Gives you the green light. Namjoon usually keeps to himself when it comes to work-related storms, holding respect that reaches the bottom of his heart for those above him and for his peers as well.

“Did someone make you upset?” you ask, paving your way in this inquiry to the realm of understanding so you can help him. At least in a small way.

He drops his hand, gazes up the ceiling to stare at a fixed point. Perhaps he’s looking for words, perhaps he’s avoiding the question altogether. The regret of your prying swallows you. You’re afraid you’ve overstepped a boundary. 

You reach out your arm, wrapping wet fingers around his wrist on his lap. The gesture says, ‘you don’t have to tell me but I’m here,’ and you squeeze the limb to emphasize that. As if he heard you, he looks down at you. His eyes that are usually narrowed into slits now round in tenderness. The swallowing lets go, the lump that threatened to obstruct your throat disappears.

“It’s Friday, Joonie, and you can forget about your job for a little while. It’ll get better,” you say, caressing his soft skin.

To your another surprise, Namjoon nods. Slips his fingers into the hollowness between yours, squeezing back, saying, ‘I hear you.’ Your heart jumps with gladness that you haven’t made a mistake, that instead your reassurement made a difference.

To lighten up the atmosphere, you begin to joke around.

“Should I beat them up?” You raise your brow in mischief, a goofy smile coating your face in lightheartedness.

A grin cracks on his face. “Don’t get your hands dirty for me, baby.”

You scoff, half-seriously and half-unseriously shaking your head at his eagerness to please but never letting himself be pleased. “But I want to. I’ll do it for you.”

Namjoon shakes his head as well. Leans over to you. Cradles your head in his hands and kisses you. Picks the hair plastered on your face and puts it away. You forget all of your jokes for a moment, breathless. Your neediness nudges you in your sensitive parts, reminding you of its lingering presence. 

“Come on, Joonie,” you coo, prolonging the vowels, the best you could come up with considering his allure, “I’ll fight them,” you start to construct your imaginary plan, the dimples adorning his face making it a bit harder for you to get the words out, “then, they’ll be scared of me and they won’t bother you again. Because if they do, I’ll smash their fucking teeth in. And then… then, you’ll get your peace for good. Easy.”

Namjoon listens with his features bathed in enamoredness, seemingly lost in a deep thought. A twinkle, a twin to yours, glistens in his eyes. Dimples out provoking you, he softly smiles at you. Coyly. He’s unaccustomed to being the one fought for. He’s always been the one who fights. The one who settles, resolves, makes things right. He’s never been the person these things are done for by another person. It makes his heart pulsate in a strange new rhythm. 

He stretches out his hands and runs his fingers through your hair. Begins to plait an intricate braid down your back, keeping you caged in the confines of his arms. Safe. Protected. His warrior princess.

“There’s something else you can do for me,” he mumbles, finished with your braid. Now your hair is away from your face, just like he needs it for what he’s about to do.

“Oh?” You raise an eyebrow in question, your smirk growing on the side of your face. “Like what?”

“I’m so hard for you, baby,” he whispers into your ear, shoulders hunched, lips tracing the edge of your earlobe. A secret just between the two of you. “My body’s confused. I need a release.”

Even though you saw it coming, even though you saw it a hundred times before, you can’t help but gasp at his desperation, bare and open before you. It’s a new experience each time. Thrilling and titillating, the vividness and ferocity of his sexuality. It causes a flock of playful butterflies to buzz you with electricity in your tummy and a shiver to run down your spine. You feel your own neediness making itself known again and you squeeze your thighs together. 

This is the Namjoon you know. Strong in his softness. Mellow. Intense. The Namjoon who showed you plain roughness was a stranger to you, one you could take the time to get to know, because now you understand that the incentive to act like he did was his frustration from work. You can’t really blame the natural inclination of his body—his body that is yours to love in all shapes or forms.

You perceive he needs to let out some steam—he said so himself. Proud of him for voicing it out, a decision to be his helper already makes a way to your heart. You no longer feel slivers of consternation slithering in your veins. Knowing the cause, knowing it’s still your Namjoon helps you submit to the call of his needs. If a dab of roughness is what entails the sand-speckled footpath to the seaside of his well-being, you’ll take it. Welcome it, even. Within the realm of your established boundaries, that is. 

“Can I see?”

The book falls to the floor with a thud. Namjoon stands up. 

Ever so eager. Responding to his body language out of pure instinct, you hum and lift yourself to your knees. The outline of his engorged length, tight in his pants, greets you and you will your brain not to tell your fingers to rub your swollen clit. To busy your hands, you grip the rim until white brushes along your knuckles.

Emerging from the water, it left you smothered in a luster of wet silkiness. Namjoon’s eyes rake over your bare femininity. Heavenly, pure, seraphic. Groans a little loud. Doesn’t know whether to touch you first or his painfully hard and heavy member. You move your body to the side wall of the tub and he follows you, hand opting for his girth to relieve himself a little bit. 

You sit prettily on your folded legs and lean over, pulling his wrist away. You plant a dewy kiss to the middle of his clothed length and look up at him, just at the right time to catch him whimpering. Your clit pulses again and you feel like crying, needing release as much as he does. He doesn’t make it easy for you, making sounds like that.

“What does my baby girl need me to do?” you ask, stroking his member while stifling your giggles at the title that fits him so well. 

“Baby girl?” He frowns down at you. 

It’s usually what he calls you, hence why his confusion. And you call him by an entirely different title, too.

A giggle does escape your mouth after all. You squeeze at his tip, drawing those delicious whimpers out of him again.

“Only needy little baby girls make sounds like that. You are needy, aren’t you?” You lick that sensitive part, palming his balls. 

Namjoon whines. 

The shift of dynamics, the change of titles ever so dizzying to the mind. He doesn’t even have the strength to correct you. 

He grips the back of your head and moves you away from his cock. Then the realization he’s being rough again wafts over him and he softens his hold, fallen stray hairs coming to rest at your temples. Namjoon tucks them behind your ear. Taps you on the cheek once.

“Get to sucking off your baby girl,” he rasps. 

You smile. Find it immensely attractive that he’s embracing the pet name while still being dominant. A masculinity in its true form.

“You can be rough with me if you want to,” you say, wanting to make that clear. “I think I can handle it.”

Namjoon traces the shell of your ear with his thumb, pondering.

“Just don’t hit me, okay?” 

He says your name sternly, as if you offended him. “I would never deliberately hurt you. How can you think that?” 

“No, I meant—” You lick your lips. “Don’t slap my boobs or anything. You can spank me, I like that. But don’t be as rough with me as you were. Can we take it slow? Is that okay?”

He stares at you for a moment.  

“Do you trust me?”

You nod, turning your head to press a kiss into his palm. “Yes, I trust you.”

“I’ll teach you, then. We’ll take it slow,” he says, fingers stroking the side of your cheek, where a small amount of fluff creates a path for him to lay down his silent love on. “It was a mistake on my part for not preparing you for it, and for that I’m sorry. But I’ll teach you. Show you how good it is.” He pauses. “Until you beg me for it.”

Your throat dries up. The pulsing in your cunt unbearable. 

“Fuck, Namjoon. Save the talk or I’ll come on the spot.” 

“The talk is important,” he reprimands you. “Whether you come or not without my permission is your problem.” 

“Shit,” you whimper, gripping his hand on your cheek. You tighten your hold as if to brattily change his mind on having this kind of control over your orgasm because you need to come as soon as possible. And not just once. You’re sure your dewiness is leaking into the water. 

“No bad words or I’ll fuck your filthy mouth.” 

You gasp. So unused to this side of him. But it turns you on, now that you feel safe. Turns you unstable.

“Say you’re sorry.”

You’re tumbling out the words before he’s even finished with his sentence. “I’m so sorry.”

He beams at your immediate submission, purring at the quintessence of your compliance. Wants more. “Who are you apologizing to?” 

You pause. His usual title almost slips off of your tongue. But since this is new and you’re both experiencing a new dynamic that causes you to feel so playful, that guides you ever so gently and carefully into the kingdom of subspace, you opt for the pet name that suits him well. “To my baby girl,” you say, laughing softly. “I’m so sorry, baby girl.” 

He laughs as well, the sound a deep rumble in his chest. You’re giddy that you’re allowed to be wild, your inner child healing and quivering within you. You overflow with the desire to kiss him.

“What for?”

He wants you to say the full sentence. You take a deep breath. 

“Baby girl, I’m so sorry for having a filthy mouth and saying bad words.”

“Hm, do you regret it?” 

You almost curse again. “Yes, I do. I’m sorry for being bad.”

“Good. Get to work, then,” he says. “Make that mouth useful.”

Fuck.

“Kiss me first, please. Make it better,” you beg, fluttering your eyelashes at him. 

Namjoon moans and you bite your lip. Bends and sucks it between his, deepening the kiss as he opens your jaw and slips his tongue inside. Massages the muscle against yours. Makes those sounds again. Palms his cock. Withdraws with a pop. 

You mewl in satisfaction. That kiss alone ruined you. 

“Good girls get kisses.” Hand under your chin, he squishes your cheeks. “You’ve been exceptionally good. I’m gonna destroy you.” 

He kisses you again with the same intensity but briefly, inhaling your skin. No tongue this time. 

Cheeks awash with rosiness, you hastily unbuckle his belt. Not to cut time and get to his promise faster—on the contrary, you’re dying to pleasure him. He doesn’t help you like he normally does; he merely watches you as you pull down the cotton material of his slacks along with his boxers down his muscular thighs. Only when you wrap your lips around his cock from the side does he throw his head back. Thrusts his hips. 

He’s rock hard. The weight of him makes you absolutely fucked out.

Namjoon likes you there so he keeps you still—there in the middle of his girth. You moan, producing as much saliva as you can to gratify him while he uses your mouth, alternating between keeping those pillows firm and soft. When he gets you to his tip, he expects you to swallow him, but you merely move your head from side to side rapidly, flicking your tongue. Namjoon groans lowly, a string of curse words spilling from his throat. His precum drops onto your chin and you suck in a breath, horny beyond your mind.

You swipe your index finger to collect it. Check if he’s watching before you plunge the digit into your mouth. Roll your eyes back as the tanginess overwhelms your senses. Namjoon hisses. Grabs your braid as if it were a ponytail. Kisses you, aching to be one with you. You feel the vibrations of his fervid mania in unity with him like this and it echoes down your body once he pulls away. 

“Take it in your mouth.” 

Namjoon holds it at the base for you and you find the long vein that you favor so much. Pepper kisses along the length of it, feeling it throb in tandem with your clit. Straightening your spine, you bite your lip. Give him an utter look of adoration before you swipe your tongue along the slit. Humming in delight, you slip him into your mouth. Your cheeks hollow and you begin to bob your head, fingers following your movement, bumping into his fist. Tears pool in your eyes when you dare to inch closer to his hand and even though you gag, you try your hardest to keep him nice and tucked in your warm throat. You sputter and cough, swallowing around him, because you deem he deserves it, knowing how much he loves it when your flesh contracts around him like that, and Namjoon groans deeply. It fills you with a dose of satisfaction almost akin to an orgasm, the lack of oxygen in your brain heightening the experience so much that your head spins. 

“Such a good girl,” he whispers. “Breathe, baby.”

He slips out of your mouth. Pats you on your head before he sinks his fingers into your hair, gripping at the roots. Ascertains you pay attention to him. 

“Don’t do that again,” he says, softly. “You need to breathe. Take a deep breath with me.”

You’re still on your knees and he’s merely looking down at you. You fold your hands on your lap. Your mind is so empty that you’re not sure how you feel right now, having been entirely focused on his pleasure. 

Namjoon inhales deeply with his nose and you do the same.

Inhale, exhale. 

Fondly, he caresses you on your cheek.

“I just wanted to make you feel good,” you explain yourself, thinking that you should.

“I know, baby, and you did. It’s okay, I’m not mad at you.” He smiles at you. “You hear me? I’m not mad at you.”

You nod your head yes. Pout. 

“You feeling okay? Take a deep breath for me again.” 

You do as he says, your senses returning to you like a warm spring wind. 

“Better now?”

You nod again.

“Words.”

You wet your lips with your tongue. “Yes, I feel better now.”

“Good. Do you still wanna continue?”

“Yes, Namjoon. I wanna make you come.” 

Almost like you flipped a switch, his eyes darken. 

“Hands behind your back,” he rasps. 

You oblige, crisscrossing your wrists below the dimples on your lower back.

“‘Atta girl. Back to work, come on.” 

It’s much harder to do so without your hands, especially in the position you’re in. You hesitate.

“I don’t know if I can,” you admit. 

He tuts in pity. “Should I use you then?”

You roll your eyes back, the idea intoxicating your body. You feel woozy. 

“Yes, please.” 

“Focus on your breathing, okay?” 

“Yes, Namjoon.”

Humming, Namjoon grabs your hair gently and sinks your mouth down on his cock, moves you up and down slowly. You focus on not just sucking in your cheeks but also on breathing through your nose like he told you, although you can’t help but moan around him. It turns you on how he manhandles you to his liking so delicately. You swirl your tongue around his tip once he wants you there and you let out a series of whines and whimpers. He keeps you there for a little longer, moaning after you, the sounds creating a paradisiacal symphony. You twist your head in half circles as you continue sucking him, slobbering all over him, using your tongue to flick beneath the mushroom. 

“So good, baby. Yes, fuck.” Namjoon squeezes his eyes shut. “You’re gonna make me come.” 

You pull away, but a string of saliva still connects you to him. 

He blinks at you. “You want a spanking?” 

You run the tip of your tongue along the top of your lip, giving him the eyes. Cock your eyebrow at him. Namjoon draws a sharp breath in. 

He leans over. One hand tugs at your braid firmly to arch your back over the edge of the tub. The other smacks you sharply on your ass cheek, smoothing over the sting. You moan, nipples rubbing over the cold surface, curse words dying on your tongue. Namjoon grips the flesh, spanks you again. Skims his fingers over your exposed heat. Repeats it on the other cheek, twice in a row. You wiggle your hips, needing to feel more, needing him to touch you right there between your legs. You cry out into his ear.

Letting go of your braid, Namjoon kisses you beneath your jaw. Slides his tongue along the sensitive spot, sucking it between his lips. A secret message that he hears you, that he’ll fuck your needy cunt soon.

“Think you’ll be a good girl for now?” 

Furrowing your eyebrows, you nod a few times. Not a single rational thought passes through your brain. 

Namjoon straightens. Pulls down his foreskin for you. “Spit on it.” 

You watch as your liquid love trickles down and lands on his tip. He hums and surprises you by wrapping your hands around his girth, spreading down the lubrication with you. You feel the ridges and the thick vein in a new, vehement way and even though you’re not the one pleasured, you moan. The simple up and down movement grows in rapidness that your body follows, emulating the effort, making it seem like you’re bouncing on a dick. Your ass splashes the water around, creating tender waves full of love, inherited from your still leaking dewiness. 

His hands are so warm enclasped around yours, pressed tight. Not once unclenching.

You start blabbering. 

“You’re so big. I can’t even wrap my hand around you.” You make sure to look him in the eyes as you say it. “So big in my mouth, too. Could barely fit you.” 

Your words set those twilit embers in his eyes on fire. His breathing quickens. He’s close again and you’re stunned, once more, by the vividness of his sexuality. Your hands go limp in his grasp.

“Nuh-uh, keep up the pace,” he husks. “Thought I was your little baby girl?” 

You shake your head, willing your hands to gain strength again, but it has no source to draw from. “Not anymore.”

Namjoon chuckles, darkly. Notices your movements fluctuating, arms shaking. “Tired?”

You nod and he unclasps his hands. You twist your wrists in circles to alleviate them from a cramp. 

Then, you get an idea.

Sitting back on your heels, you arch your back. Tip your chin down and spit on your chest, the essence flowing down the pathway between your breasts. You do it again, though this time you spread it on your skin. 

“Fuck, baby,” Namjoon mumbles. Unbuttons his shirt. You squeeze your nipples with both hands as your eyes flick to his, then down to his exposed chest. “How are you gonna address me, huh? What’s my name?”

He forcefully tugs the fabric off of his arms, tossing it on the floor. His body—with its vulgar beauty, broadness and definition—takes your breath away. You don’t let it show, or perhaps you pretend that you don’t because you allow your hand to travel down your stomach. Namjoon imitates you, running his fingers down the chiseled muscles that make you drool. He stops at the hair adorning his pelvis. You don’t.

You rub circles on your clit instead.

“Daddy,” you cry out in pleasure, announcing his title—his rightful, most fitting title. Face contorting at the brisk, blooming flashes of sensuality rising up your form.

His body tenses. It’s like he’s stopping himself from reaching for you, pulling you out of the bathtub and spanking you until your bottom resembles the water. Or tugging at his length until he paints you white with his cum. 

You make it easy for him. 

Lifting your body, you step over the edge of the bathtub. Kneel at his feet on the fluffy black mat. Far enough for him to see purple liquid pearls make their way down to your cunt. Far enough for him to see how you resume those circles on your bundle of nerves, fingers reaching to your hole for lubrication. You roll your hips into your hand, arm propped behind you.

“What’s this show?” Namjoon rasps, his cock twitching. “I don’t remember giving you permission to touch yourself. You wanna end up with zero orgasms?”

You pause. 

“That’s what I thought,” he says. “I believe you have unfinished work to do.” 

You smile mischievously. “You want it bad, don’t you?” 

Namjoon nods. Holds out his hand. “Come to Daddy.”

Exuberantly, you leap into his arms. Namjoon throws you over his shoulder like you weigh nothing and walks into your shared bedroom. Sets you down on your bed, spreading your legs, and he crouches between them, reaching into his bedside table for the tool that he wants. 

The aroma of strawberries lovingly boops you on the nose. Namjoon squirts a good amount of lubrication on your chest, paying special attention to the pathway in the middle of your breasts. He massages it in, incorporates your sensitive nipples in the preparation, coaxing whimper after whimper out of you by squeezing them and rolling them between his long fingers.

“I’m gonna make a mess,” you say, grinding your hips against nothing.

Namjoon clicks his tongue. “Already?” 

Your dewiness oozes out of you onto the bedding. To prove your point, you lean back on your elbows and lift your knees, revealing your dripping hole and the shine of your soaked folds. Namjoon stares at your cunt but doesn’t touch, doesn’t blink. He bites his lip. Flicks his eyes to yours. 

He kisses the middle of your tummy. Moves over to your heat. Licks a tiny stripe on your clit.

You cry out.

“Namjoon!”

Hands on either side of your waist, crawling up to you, he growls. “Good girls are patient, aren’t they?” 

He doesn’t wait for your response. 

“They take what is given to them and they finish what they started,” he continues. “Don’t they?”

You nod.

“And you are a good girl, aren’t you?”

“Yes, I’m a good girl.” 

“Then thank your Daddy for what he gave you.” 

Your walls squeeze around nothing when you hear him utter his title. It refreshes your body with energy. 

“Thank you, Daddy.” You smile. 

Namjoon kisses you, rewarding you.

“Sit up.”

Changing the layout, it’s Namjoon who reclines halfway on the bed while you sit perched on your knees between his legs, cock in your face. He spurts the lube on his length and jerks himself off, his skin shining in the abrupt spillage of burnt-orange sunlight from the window. Watches your eyes round in astonishment similarly to the way they did earlier when you had gazed upon the glitter swarming around you. 

He nods at you, giving you the green light, and you sheathe his girth into the tightness of your squished tits. You may start a face pace from the get go, fucking him into oblivion, but all Namjoon sees is the whites of your eyes, the glimmer, the pure enjoyment of what you’re doing while the rest of you is immersed in subdued late afternoon shadows. Sweat glistens on the planes of his face, dribbling down to the strained column of his neck.

It’s intense. So intense that he can’t vocally react. 

Precum appears once more on his mushroom, displaying his arousal, and you slurp it up, the braid coming undone—your hair falling around you like a curtain. 

It’s brutal. It’s wet. 

Namjoon gathers your hair to the side in a makeshift ponytail and leans over to be closer to you. Needs you like this. Feels his relief catching up to him the more effort you put in, the more you stick out your tongue to flick at that sensitive part of him whenever you can. 

“Want your come. So bad. Want it all over me,” you whisper, and that’s it for him. 

“Say please,” he murmurs, and it’s barely a sound, but you hear him. 

“Please, Daddy, come for me.” 

Pulling your hands away, Namjoon takes charge. Fucks your tits in frenzy, your hair, now half dry, tickling your skin. With his thumbs, he stimulates your nipples to coax those little sounds of yours and—

“Play with your pussy,” he commands. “But don’t come. Tease yourself like you teased Daddy.”

The relief on your face inches him closer to his. He hears the wetness as you dip a finger in, your walls sucking it in. He hears your breath get stuck in your throat. The slow crescendo of your moans. Suddenly, he hears himself too. 

Whiny, desperate, so unlike himself.

It’s a fortress of safety, his forehead on top of yours. His nose bumping against yours. Open mouth ghosting over the sounds of your well-deserved pleasure. It’s a safe place for him to come in.  

And he does. 

Ropes upon ropes of come color you ivory white, color you clean. The reversal of a coloring book—changing the lines, changing the scheme, changing your life. 

You milk him dry, your pussy long forgotten. Milk him until he pushes you away, chest heaving, unable to catch his breath. You just watch him, his seed hot on your chest. Glittery. And not just there. On your neck, on your chin, in the wavy strands of your hair. 

You’re in awe of him. You can see the pressure leaving him like a ghost slinking out of the window. 

Namjoon takes off his glasses. With two fingers, he collects as much of his essence as he can and plunges them into your mouth. The other hand rests on the crook of your neck, thumb protectively over your throat. “Swallow.”

Not for long. Namjoon throws you on the bed. Doesn’t waste time.

He laps up your pussy, clit to hole, sucking your labia into his mouth. He does it again, but this time he travels a bit further. Clit, hole, ass. Tongue flat. Your screams are muffled by the rumpled bedsheet you grip.

Going back to your leaking hole, he circles the flesh before he dips the tongue in. Wraps his arms around your ass to control your squirming, feeling the dip of your spine as the sunlight kisses it. Dust particles spiral in the air—Namjoon sees it. The dark grey curtain keeping half of the world shrouded in dimness while the other illuminated, a picture cut in a heart shape due to the deliciousness of your ass. 

Fuck, Namjoon longs to play with it again. 

He spits on it, rubbing the saliva around it before he slides his tongue back into your wet hole. Says hello to it—long time no see—teases it, before he dips his thumb in. You arch your back even more, welcoming the intrusion, and Namjoon kisses your pussy lips as a thank you. He quivers with the craving to fuck you right there in your ass, but knows better than to do it. You’re not ready for it. 

Spreading you more open, while keeping his thumb there in that sweet place, he begins to focus on your poor little clit. Swirls his tongue around it firmly, sucking it until your back trembles—goes up and down like a seesaw. The kisses he leaves there are obscene, loud, full of thankfulness that he gets to play with you. Full of love for you that he burns bright with—that propels him to flick his tongue harder. And full of joy that his stress is gone. Joy that you’ve been the helper unscrewing the steel body of heaviness off of his because, as of now, his bones feel lighter.

“You’re so good for me.” He smacks his lips against your cunt. “Fucking Daddy like that when he needed you.” 

Vigorously, he rubs his face against you, shaking his head from side to side. You stretch your fingers behind you and helplessly grip the back of your thighs. Namjoon catches one of your hands, holds it with his free four fingers, sucking your clit. 

“Thank you, baby,” he whispers, withdrawing to pay attention to your other hole, missing it. Abuses it once he spits on it, eating it, dipping his tongue in with ease since he stretched you. Fucks you there in the only way he can. 

“Wanna come?” he asks and as he waits for your answer, he goes lower to drink your freshness, not letting a drop go to waste. 

You’ve lost your voice screaming. “Yes, Daddy, please. I can’t hold it in anymore. Please, let me come,” you croak. 

Namjoon makes a sound of appreciation, proud of you for holding out for so long without saying anything.

“I think you can,” he says. Stuffs a finger into your dripping hole and lets you adjust for a moment. Adds another. “I think you can hold it while I count to ten.” 

His digits pump into you slowly. Kneeling by your side, he turns your head so you can see him, twisting your body into the position he wants. The curve of your back is so beautiful in his sight that he can’t help but run his free hand over the route that your spine has become. The route he wants to plant kisses on like flowers of various colors, adding to the coloring book, erasing the old. 

And he does. Begins at the nape of your neck. Picks up the speed.

“One.” 

You cry out. First before your tears rush out, pooling in your waterline. You clench your whole body in naive hope it would stall the orgasm, but it quickens it, squeezing his fingers in, so you relax your muscles. 

“Two.” 

A kiss to the first round protrusion of your spine. Shifting your weight to your shoulder, you take his cock into your hand. 

“Three.”

The middle of your shoulder blades. You hear your wetness oozing out of you, the relief prowling closer. You whine and Namjoon understands.

“Hold it or I’ll stop,” he whispers. “I can feel your pussy squeezing around my fingers. Relax.” 

You match your pace with his. Namjoon begins to pant. You feel his hot, heavy breath beneath your shoulder blades. 

“Six.” 

Ass shaking from the force, he jackhammers into you. Pulls out for a moment to spank you, a merciful gesture, before he’s back in. Leaves a wet fingerprint on your skin.

“Eight.”

The last protrusion of your spine. You silence your moans by pressing your hand against your mouth because they bring you closer to your orgasm, however Namjoon yanks your arm away. 

“Make those pretty sounds for me, come on,” he huffs, kissing both of those dimples on your back. “Ten. Come. Come for Daddy. Come all over his hand.”

And you do.

It’s a paradise, the heat closing in on you. The loss of hearing, the muted ringing, resembling the flap of a bird’s wing. The loss of surroundings as you’re momentarily transported somewhere entirely else. A gilded illustration, perhaps a lively projection. Something, somewhere, where all is good. The orgasm rips through you and the repetitive echo of his name leaving your mouth is what brings you back. Away from the storybook into a brand new coloring book.

Namjoon strokes your hair. 

He holds you in his arms, but something sticks you uncomfortably together. You peel yourself off of him and cringe. Strings upon strings of his come, gleaming with speckles of glitter, do not want you to leave. You sit on his thighs, resting your palms on his chest. 

He kisses you. “Are you okay?”

You nod with droopy eyelids. 

He carries you into the shower and makes a way for all colors of the rainbow to perfuse your body. To create a new storyline for the day, for the week, for the month. Reds and pinks show their faces first in the steam, and even though Namjoon is glad to see them, he looks forward to meeting the rest. To learning their objectives so he can fulfill them. 

Grabbing the yellow book on the way back to the bedroom, Namjoon makes himself comfortable beside you. Is careful not to touch your face out of habit because you have a face mask on; careful not to bump into you either because you have a plate of mozzarella and sliced tomatoes on your lap. He kisses your hair, though. Doesn’t have the strength to fight internally—grabs your jawline and ever so slowly and heedfully, he kisses you, fingers finding the first chapter unwittingly. 

“When Gregor Samsa awoke one morning from troubled dreams, he found himself changed into a monstrous cockroach in his bed.” 

© 2024 hoseoksluna, all rights reserved.

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[poisonsage808]

Hello! I was wondering if you could do an imagine with sansa, dany and margaery please? Reader has a black cat that absolutely despises the ladies, always hissing and even trying to scratch them when they get too close to the reader LMAO, how would the ladies react? Thank you ^_^

Her lover was sweet, kind and cuddly. Her beloved was utterly perfect! So why the hell did her beloved have such a horrible creature at their feet that seemed to try to literally scare them away.

♡ Margaery Tyrell ♡

• It started out as a useful sign. Wherever the beast was, as were you. It seemed the creature couldn’t be without your presence. Tolerable at first, now bothersome

• It hisses when Margaery is but two steps apart from you, any closer and looks about ready to mask her with power it shouldn’t possess.. but might

• “Darling,” Marg coos sweetly from the doorway, “Perhaps you would join me for a swim today? The weather is perfect for it!”

“I’d love to.” You smile as you rise to your feet, abandoning your work to offer her your arm.

Margaery wears a triumphant smirk as she accepts, hooking her arm through yours and leading you to the pond

• The damn cat sits on top of her abandoned dress and glares from shore as Margaery steals kiss after kiss from you. In the water you’re completely hers. Unfortunately unless she bargains with a witch to somehow turn you both into mermaids, it seems she’s stuck sharing your attention with this beast that loathes her

♡ Sansa Stark ♡

• If wolves did not cower in the face of lions, she certainly wouldn’t for a domesticated variant of one

• Sansa ignores your black haired beauty as it rests on your lap, batting her pale hands away if she dares to rest it anywhere on you

• Once it hissed at her and she hissed back

• Sansa does a sweep of her room before you enter. Hiding spots empty, windows closed, it seems she’s safe from torment for the night— but the moment you open the door the cat darts under the bed

• You laugh, though you don’t find it as funny when your cat hops on the bed when you’re trying to kiss your fiery lover

“Shoo!” You beg, gently waving your hand only for it to purr and rub its head on your knuckles.

“Could you confine your furry friend to your chambers for the night?” Sansa asks innocently, inching towards the edge of the bed.

She gets a well deserved glare from the beast in cat’s skin.

You sigh with a smile, “Perhaps that’s best.”

• Somehow it finds its way back into the room and pounces on the both of you while you sleep, jerking you awake as it bounds off to hide again

♡ Daenerys Targaryen ♡

• You bowed before your queen whereas the beast would rudely dance between your legs defiantly. Dany swears it’s on purpose

• She has bite marks and small scratches on her hands constantly from trying to hold you

• She’d tried everything. Bathing, bribery with treats or catmint (which only seemed to worsen the treatment she received)

• Dragons loved her! Dragons were bigger, more powerful and yet this tiny black ball of fur terrified her!

• Worse? Her children adored the terror. Not one unfortunate snack attempt was made. You were in utter awe over Drogon napping with your cat!

• The only time it scurried off was when Daenerys would take you flying. She adored the way you tightly held onto her, no little beast to interrupt you both while up in the clouds

[jar-of-maise]

"Um Lyney," Paimon began, in an uncharacteristically hesitant voice.

"Oh? It isn't like you to be so shy, please go on, what's on your mind?" Lyney asked, looking up at her curiously.

Paimon looked at Aether anxiously, then floated a little closer to him, shedding sparkles as she flew, "well, some of the kids were telling us about how you tell them about fairytales..." She begins.

"Ah!" Lyney snaps his fingers, "are you here to ask me to tell you some stories? Well why didn't you say so?" He hops up easily, gracefully revealing several embossed hardcover books which fall out of his hat.

"Take a pick! There are many here, don't be shy," Lyney says cheerfully, showing the books off happily, "this one is a personal favourite," he winks at Aether.

The cover is of a golden-haired prince, drawing a sword from his sheath, sparkles dance around his figure. White armour adorns his strong figure. "It's a pretty cover...but," Paimon begins, raising a finger.

Lyney raises his eyebrows, "oh? Not to your taste? That's alright," he twirls the book around on his fingers, then tosses it up in the air, where it disappears after a sharp snap of his fingers.

"How about this one? It's about a mermaid and her journey to the human world," Lyney offers, smiling at Paimon and Aether as he shows them the book.

"Well, they're all very nice but–" Paimon tries again.

"Goodness! Have you always driven such a hard bargain?" Lyney asks comically, shaking his head, the books tumble down from his hands as he sighs in defeat.

"Lyney." Lynette says with a deadpan look on her face, "they probably want you to tell them a specific story."

"Yeah!" Paimon exclaims, "thank you Lynette!"

"No worries," Lynette says, crossing her arms and nodding, "my brother does have a habit of talking too much," she says, tail swishing side to side.

"Hey! I'm still here you know!" Lyney cries.

Lynettte fixes him with a very exasperated glare, "I know."

"Oh Lynette, how could you be so cruel to your dear brother?" Lyney whines, slumping, a few cards slipping out from underneath his hat. They fall sadly onto the ground, like limp autumn leaves.

"Um..." Aether begins, "we were hoping to hear about the story you created for the kids here," he says hopefully.

"The story...I made?" Lyney asks, perking up, "you want to hear my stories?" He asks in a tone so innocent that Aether can't help but feel endeared by his excitement.

"Yeah! Of course we do, you're a great storyteller Lyney!" Paimon cheers, "yeah!" Aether agrees, nodding vigorously.

"Well then," Lyney gathers his cards in one sweeping motion, shoving them back into his hat, "I can't disappoint my audience then, can I? Please take a seat, the show will be put on momentarily." Lyney grins, gesturing at the table in front of them.

"Please help yourself," Lynette says in a monotone voice as Paimon and Aether slid into their seats. She places her hat onto the table, and once she removes it, trays and plates of snacks appear magically.

"Wow! Thank you! Paimon's digging in then!"

Lynette nods, satisfied, she pours herself a cup of tea and takes a long sip from her cup.

"So Lyney," Paimon says to the magician, who's mumbling to himself as they help themselves.

"Hm? What's up?" Lyney asks curiously.

"The children here said that this story was called, 'The Thief's Hope' but, they also said that it has a sad ending," Paimon comments, "is that true?"

"Ah, you want to hear that story," Lyney says, there's an unreadable expression on his face, "well I wouldn't say it's that sad, uh, it's just not your typical fairytale."

"Yet the kids still love this story," Aether says, watching as Lyney puffs out his cheeks in slight disagreement.

"Yeah I don't really know why," Lyney laughs, slumping onto a nearby couch with a poof!

"Hey, at least that means you're a good story teller!" Paimon says comfortingly, nibbling on a cupcake as she talks.

"Perhaps," Lyney looks at Aether, then at Lynette. His eyes are wistful as he gazes at his hands silently. Outside, the rain was pouring ceaselessly. A cold wind brushed by and the water rapped on the windows. Lyney thought for a long time, then he just sighed fondly, fingers tracing a seam on his shorts before smiling brightly at Aether and Paimon. 

“Alright! Let me tell you the story!” He jumps up from the chair and bows deeply, “Lynette, if you would please,” he bows towards his sister who sighs, “fine," she says.

Lynette snaps her fingers and just like magic, a large backdrop appears behind Lyney, Paimon gasps in surprise and Aether leans forward curiously. It’s a depiction of the Fontaine streets, and the desolate piece of artwork is crafted with life-like accuracy. 

“Allow me to take you back in time,” Lyney steps forth, a hand tucked behind his back as he twirls his hat on his fingers. 

“There once lived a young boy, he was very poor and often worried about when his next meal would come by,” Lyney snapped his fingers and a little doll fell down from somewhere above his head, it was neatly stitched together, yet dirty and battered as though it had been abused and never loved. 

Lyney smiled and nodded at Lynette who waved her hand. A spotlight shone onto the makeshift “stage” focusing on the tiny doll who picked himself up and began to walk around. 

“He was often bullied, looked down upon and slowly, he found himself pushed to the darkest streets, where the light did not fall,” as he spoke, Lyney flicked his fingers, they appeared as dark, long shadows on the harsh light of the backdrop and the doll was flung away.

“But he never forgot what being in the light felt like,” Lyney’s voice echoed from somewhere, like a omnipresent narrator. As he spoke, the little doll picked itself up and began to stumble slowly towards the audience, “he longed to go back, there was a hole in his heart that he wanted to fill. A void that was as dark as the night sky.”

The inky blackness that suddenly filled the stage was so desperate and suffocating that Paimon audibly gasped. No light shone, indeed, it seemed as though even the oxygen was being removed from their lungs. Aether wondered if this too, was a part of the magic.

"He tried to fill his heart with the scraps that littered the streets," Lyney's voice began to speak again, "he hoarded those little things zealously, even they had no love for him and he had no love for them."

A small pinprick of light appeared on the stage and focused on Lyney's figure, he stood in the centre, with a grave expression on his face.

"His fingers were nimble and his feet too, were agile," Lyney smiled, a small doll appearing on his hand.

"He took the memories and love of others, he tried to light up the darkness in his heart with the light and warmth of others." Lyney procured a candle, "but he could not chase away the cold in his heart, nor could he brighten any corner of that room, for it was locked!"

Lynette grimanced into her cup, but begrudgingly waved her hand. The flame of the candle died out as she waved her hand and Lyney smiled widely.

"How should I light up this dark heart?" Lyney walked across the stage, making a thoughtful expression, "Ah! The boy realised something, when he was wandering the streets one day!"

Lyney smiles, carefully placing the doll down, "people crave the unknown, they are fascinated by fantasy…and what better way to achieve that than–” a sudden burst of streamers erupted from behind his back, “magic?”

The backdrop changed, it was a light and happy scene, where the doll reappeared, looking much cleaner and put together, the doll was surrounded by other dolls, they were smiling at him. 

 "If I can't love myself...and I can't take it from others, what if I made them give it to me? That was what the thief thought," Lyney grinned, blowing a shower of confetti hearts at his audience.

Aether smiled slightly when some of the paper brushed his cheek.

"So he began to try and perform, with the few skills he had learned from stealing. No matter how he tried to mask his true self, this boy was a thief," Lyney pointed at the heinous doll with an accusatory finger.

"The truth was that he was a thief, and that all his story-truths were lies." Lyney declared.

Aether and Paimon smiled knowingly, Lynette helped herself to a muffin. She was enjoying the chance to enjoy as many treats as she could.  

“So the thief had finally found something that could fill up his empty heart," Lyney kept talking, "but still, the feeling of emptiness persisted. So he kept performing, kept going, just to chase that feeing," butterflies flew out from Lyney's finger tips as he spoke.

“The treacherous thief lied his way to the top. He tricked people ceaselessly, putting on a show that the masses would love. Lies were piled up on falsehoods. The thief could no longer return to the shadows of his past."

Lyney made a shape with him fingers where the light reflected it's shadow onto the backdrop, "The Thief looked down at the world from on top of the tower he’d built. It was exquisitely crafted, held together by fabricated illusions. He was a sinner, a devil who’d escaped from hell who was undeserving of the light he had gained."

Aether's eyes narrowed slightly, he sipped some tea but listened attentively, Lyney noticed this change, smiling to himself he thought, 'ah he gets it.'

Lyney kept talking, "Like a famous actor, the parts that he had to play continued to increase. People’s lives were entrusted to his hands at night, and in the daytime, he stole people’s hearts. He had never been bested and life itself, was the stage for his craft. 

He sat under the night sky one lonely evening, gazing out into the inky darkness. The thief looked at the stars, they had always sparkled so beautifully, untouched by pain or sorrow. He wanted that light, even though he knew he could never emulate that gentle radiance. 

That was when he met her,” Lyney’s voice took on a reminiscing tone and suddenly Aether was seized by a strange thought, was this just a mere story? He had no time to ponder this question, because Lyney was moving onto the next part of the story.

”Who was she?" Lyney wondered aloud, "well, perhaps she could be described like a burst of sunlight in a cold, frosty winter, or a wonderful flower blossoming in a wasteland...but no," he paused, "she was more than just those."

"She was the steady roll of waves on the ocean, she was the star that never left the night sky," it seemed like Lyney had forgotten his magic in that moment. He stood before them, as a performer still, but Aether realised that this was not only a story, but a reflection of Lyney himself.

"She was not words, she was a feeling," Lyney almost whispered to himself. Yet in the breathless silence that beheld the room, he may as well have shouted those words. Upon beholding this vulnerable side of Lyney, Aether couldn't help but smile sadly.

"The Thief was a certain kind of summertime sadness, one that spring couldn't cure," Lyney said slowly, withered petals falling with every step he took backward, away from the audience.

"He had no words that could describe her, for all the stories The Thief had spun, all the lies he'd said, there was no word he knew that could speak about the truth in her. But The Thief liked to call her mon armour," Lyney smiled bitterly, there was a hatred in the way he uttered those words.

Aether was taken back, but he didn't know why Lyney seemed to dislike those last few words so much.

"Her presence was gentle, yet searing. To The Thief who couldn't remember hugs or caresses, her touches was an uncomfortable, addicting burn."

Sitting in the audience, Lynette looked at her reflection in her cup sadly. This, was his way of atoning for lies, by weaving truths into his stories so that he might not spin falsehoods. She knew Lyney better than anyone else, to most this was obvious, but they didn't know about the hopes of her older brother. Past his light, and his shadow, was a young boy who loved to love and be loved.

That, was also a kind of truth.

"This Thief," Lyney murmured, "he was a haunted house, hollow from inside to out, plagued by a restless soul that was more focused on destroying the construct that kept it existing than anything else. Every now and then, a wind would rush through and open half-closed, weeping wounds.

The people who sojourned in this house did not help the soul, they loved only the mystery, the romance, the unattainable nature of his performance. And often left the house shabbier than when they first entered.

But not mon armour, she came in, like a little ghost. Planting purple wisteria in his mind, with wonderful trees that entwined their roots around the house and bound him to the earth. Camomile grew from his scars, moss and dewdrops patched his wounds.

She planted gardens of lavender in his mind, so that his anxiety might be soothed.

If there was anyone that might make him feel like life was worth living on, it would be her. A gentle love, that didn't demand. How funny, The Thief had never once known how to care, he did not think about the emotion itself. Never committed." Lyney nodded, though Aether didn't know if he was talking to himself or his audience.

"Yet he tried, loving was clumsy. He couldn't make sense of the lines he was meant to colour inside and often scribbled outside of those boundaries. But at least, he was less transient, and more of a home now." Lyney drifted off into his own thoughts, "my love, what a wonderful name, if only..."

Aether lets him mumble to himself, Paimon also floats over to him with a soft, melancholic smile. "Poor Lyney..." she says quietly, "the story must mean a lot to him."

"I think there was a bit more than just that," Aether comments, but refrains from saying some of his other thoughts, knowing Paimon would just freak out.

"My brother finds it hard to express himself," Lynette chips in, "thank you for listening to him," she bows her head.

"It's okay, please tell him that we'd listen to him anytime!" Paimon exclaims waving her hands.

"Thank you, I will."

"I know you're not much of a talker, but we'll also listen to you, if you need it," Aether says, smiling brightly at Lynette, who gives him a little smile in response.

"I will cherish that offer." She says, "honestly," she adds, looking at Lyney with a half-endearing, half-fond and equal parts exasperated expression, "for someone who insists he's unlovable, loving sure comes easily to him."

"He has a lot to give," Aether says kindly, Lyney is quiet, a broken piece of cermanic-ware, so fractured yet so well patched up he looks new. Aether is glad he has something to hope for.

"Lyney loves like he breathes but treats it like it's cancer," Lynette replies, "when he first realised he was infatuated he said he got a heart stroke. Yet if loving really was a disease, he'd hope he'd never recover from his illness" Lynette takes a sip of tea and rolls her eyes gracefully. "In that sense, he's utterly hopeless,"

[ageingfangirl2]

A Reason To Come Back! Shanks (OPLA) Part 1

Reader is a mermaid who washed up close to death in Luffy's village and made a home for themselves. Shanks comes back and tries to convince y/n to join his crew. Shanks x Female Reader.

Part 2

Y/N

It had been six months since you found yourself washed up on the shores of Foosha Village, bloody and close to death after watching your family die at the hands of pirates and making a dangerous escape. At first the village was stunned that a girl washed up beaten and bloody, then it turned into shock when they saw your shimmering tail and realised mermaids were real and not myth. Luckily when on shore you grew legs so you managed to blend in.

After being nursed back to health you decided to stay in the village because everyone was so nice to you. Being a mermaid meant you had a knack for fishing so were able to provide a lot of fish to eat and sell, and if Makino needed help you helped in the tavern. This is where you meet a young boy called Luffy who dreams of being a pirate.

Luffy took an immediate shine to you, following you around and asking lots of questions about the sea. You weren't a fan of pirate questions and after a talking to from Makino he didn't mention pirates around you often. Luffy was like a little brother, he had an adorable if not energetic personality which meant you had to keep an eye on him. He loved to watch you swim in the cove near your house, gushing over your tail and how cool it was he knew a mermaid.

He told you tales of a pirate called Shanks and his crew and how they were amazing pirates. It was hard to believe a pirate crew could exist that didn't always use violence to get what they wanted. Luffy missed Shanks and promised to introduce you to him when he eventually came back.

SHANKS

'Hey captain, where's Luffy? Usually, he'd be the first to greet us,' Yasopp calls out.

I walked across the deck and to my surprise Luffy was nowhere in sight. had something happened to him? I'd have to ask Makino because this was very odd.

After ordering the crew to unload I head towards the tavern, genuinely concerned for Luffy, yes he could be a little annoying but his enthusiasm more than made up for that.

Makino smiles as I enter the empty tavern, 'ah you're back Shanks. What's wrong?'

'Have you seen Luffy? He wasn't at the dock.'

Makino stops sweeping and chuckles, 'Now that's a first. He's probably at the cove with y/n. How she puts up with him I'll never know.'

y/n, that name wasn't familiar, maybe they were new in town, 'who is she?'

Makino hums, 'washed up on the beach six months ago beaten nearly to death, but that's not all, turns out mermaids are real. Luffy is obsessed with her.'

I'd been sailing the sea for years and had heard stories and rumours about mermaids but never thought they were real. I guess I'd go find Luffy and this mermaid y/n.

'She has a past with pirates so be careful, though I'm pretty sure Luffy has her convinced your crew are good pirates.'

I nod and head back out of the tavern, curious why y/n had a past with pirates if mermaids hardly showed themselves.

The cove wasn't a long walk, and I could already hear Luffy talking away at a mile a minute, while a girl laughed, I had to stop for a second because the laugh was a little hypnotizing. The stories said it was sirens with voices to lure ships to their demise, but maybe that also applied to mermaids.

I lean against the rock wall and take in the sight in front of me. In the water was the most beautiful girl I'd ever seen, and I wasn't being biased because we had the same hair colour. Her facial expression was soft and there was a twinkle behind her eyes as she laughed along with Luffy. I was also a man and despite her long wet hair covering her shell-covered breasts, she had a body. Her tail was also the same shade of red as her hair but shimmered when the sun hit it in the water

'HEY SHANKS!' Luffy shouts, snapping me out of my thoughts.

'Didn't see you at the dock so I came to find you,' I direct at Luffy before turning my full attention to the girl who was watching me with curious eyes, 'and you must be y/n, it's a pleasure to meet you.'

y/n smiles, 'You're the infamous Shanks, I've heard a lot about you from this one.'

I rub my head, 'why am I afraid to ask?'

y/n laughs, and again I find myself enthralled, she had to have some kind of power, 'he has a big imagination.'

Luffy puffs out his chest, 'When I get my own ship and crew y/n is going to join my crew, aren't you y/n?'

y/n's smile falters for a split second but she quickly composed herself, 'Maybe I'm not ready to head out to sea yet Luffy. Now shouldn't you be going to help Makino?'

Luffy jumps up from where he was perched, 'See you later y/n, you coming to Shanks?'

I put my hand up, 'I'll follow after you. Go ahead Luffy.'

The boy nods and runs past me. y/n swims up to the rocks and rests her hands on the rocks before resting her chin on them and staring at me, 'first time seeing a mermaid?' she asks.

I nod and crouch down, 'yeah, bit odd and I've seen some things while travelling. Makino told me you washed up on the beach, is that why you hate pirates?'

y/n bites her lip and nods, 'a pirate crew found the cove my family were resting in. Mermaids can live on the land, and we grow legs, but we prefer the water. They skinned the scales off my parents and siblings' tails like you do to a fish, I remember hearing them screaming because to mermaids our scales are like skin so imagine you're skin being peeled off while you're still alive Shanks.'

That was a lot to digest, 'I'm sorry, that must have been hard for you.'

y/n nods and uses her hands to push herself out of the water, and like magic her tail turns into human legs, but she isn't naked like the stories said, instead she was wearing a wet dress that clung to her body in all the right places.

'I told myself I wouldn't go back into the sea until those pirates were gone, so I guess I'm stuck here. But I have Luffy and the other villagers to keep me company.'

An idea forms in my head, 'what if my crew made those pirates go away. Would you return to the sea?'

y/n tilts her head to the side as she approaches me, 'Maybe. I don't have anywhere to go though. I'd be all alone.'

'Then join my crew,' I say without a second thought.

[watcheraurora]

Siren Song

Had a dream the other night that I got turned into a mermaid. And as a gal who's loved merfolk since I was a kid, I couldn't resist 4.3k words

—

Grian grinned to himself. From his fishing dock, he could hear Gem on her little fishing boat belting sea shanties. She sounded like she was having fun, swinging around her rigging with a sword on her belt. She wasn't the only one who lived on their boat, but she was the only one who took such audible joy in it.

Grian let his feet dangle in the water, his overalls rolled up past his knees, and watched the sea as his lure bobbed. Early morning was one of his favorite times to fish. The quiet—apart from Gem's shanties—the sunrise on the clouds, the watery color of the sky. The calmness of the ocean. It was peaceful, like this. There was nothing else he needed to do but sit and fish. This early in the season, the ocean water was frigid against his bare skin. He didn't care.

"Morning Grian!" Gem called as she spun around a line of the rigging as though it was the hand of a dance partner. She waved from her boat's deck anchored a little farther out in the bay, not attached to a dock or wharf.

"Morning Gem!" Grian replied, raising a hand in response.

Gem beamed and went back to whatever it was she was up to. Grian suspected she was trying to do chores and just decided to have fun instead. She was anchored far enough out that they couldn't easily talk. They had to shout. He tried not to shout this early though. It scared the fish.

The water, near the hull of Gem's ship, moved strangely. A movement Grian was familiar with. Something large not quite breaking the surface tension, sliding just underneath. Large and shimmery.

Grian perked up. That was either the largest cod he'd ever seen—or something else was near.

He pulled his feet out of the water and stood up. Snatching his binoculars from his pack of stuff, he held them up and peered toward where the shape moved.

The murk of the early-morning ocean prevented him from seeing what was under the surface.

"Shoot," he muttered. "What was that? Big fish don't come this shallow often..." He moved the binoculars up and down, looking through them and sweeping his gaze in the same area without the magnification. "Geeem?" he called, as loud as he dared to not scare the fish. "Is your sonar on?"

Gem stopped where she was dramatically stomping on the deck with a mop in hand while chanting her shanty. "No. I'm cleaning," she called back.

"Mind turning it on? There's something big here!"

"Grian, you don't have the equipment for deep sea fishing."

"Humor me," Grian said.

Gem made a face that was unimpressed—even from Grian's distance. "Fiiine," she said, vanishing into the cabin of her boat.

—

Pearl grabbed Scar's wrist as a noise traveled through the water. A sonar that was revving up, but not yet active.

"Hold on," she said. Scar twisted his arm and grabbed her arm in return. They snagged each other's other arms. Pearl built up some momentum with her tail and they shot toward deeper water. Scar's torn caudal fin trailed limply behind him as Pearl sped them both away. The pearlescent white tail for which she got her name glimmered in the weak, pale sunlight that hadn't yet broken over the horizon.

Pearl swam them both for several long moments—until they were most likely out of range of the sonar. Then slowed down. Scar's green eyes were wide. The scar over the bridge of his nose shimmered. "Did we just get caught?"

"Maybe," Pearl said, looking over her shoulder. Her long hair drifted in a cloud around her head. She brushed it aside to look behind her. "I don't think the sonar got turned on quick enough. But I can't say for sure."

Scar looked down at his tail. The base of his caudal fin was bent awkwardly and the fin itself was torn in such a way to render it useless. He couldn't swim. "I'm sorry, Pearl. I didn't mean—"

"Don't apologize, Scar. It's not your fault."

"Bu-bu-bu-bu-but..." Scar put on his pathetic voice that was overdramatic for the sake of comedy. "But I'm the one who got too close to the humans."

"Yeah, and got closer in the hopes that they'd help fix you. We know that human of Jimmy's knows about us and would help. But everyone else? That man on the dock could have very well hooked your tail if you got any closer. We don't know who we can trust."

"How... how do we get Jimmy's human to help fix my tail? We just don't have the materials to splint it underwater."

Pearl made a face. "Well, it was pretty stupid of you to come this close to shore on your own when you can barely swim. You're lucky I got here when I did to get you out before they thought a shark got close to shore."

Scar pouted, sticking his lower lip out.

"Look. I know your tail needs fixing. And Jimmy and Lizzie's humans will help. But we need Jimmy or Lizzie to contact them. How those two both managed to snag humans is beyond me."

"Must be ocean royalty twin charm or something," Scar said sarcastically.

Pearl smirked and bounced her eyebrows. "Must be. C'mon. Let's go ask Jimmy and Lizzie if one of them can ask their human for help."

Scar thought for a moment, then nodded.

—

Grian stood on the end of his dock at the end of the day. The sun had set behind him and the last few rays were starting to filter out.

Soft footsteps approached down the dock. "Whatcha doin'?" Gem asked. Her rowboat bobbed in the water just in front of them both. She had on her light, soft boat shoes.

"Looking to see if that fish came back with the sunset," Grian said, binoculars in hand.

Gem yawned and stretched. "Okay," she said through her yawn. "I'm heading back to the boat. Holler if you need anything."

"Yeah, yeah. Cheers," Grian said.

She hopped nimbly down into her rowboat, untied it, and started to row back to her boat. Grian watched her go, making sure she was safe. They'd both moved to this small fishing town within a year of one another. Gem's grandparents had given her their fishing boat when they passed away and she'd chosen to live on it, and Grian... well. He was running. Always running. A restless soul with people in his past that he needed to be far away from for his own sanity.

He told the good people in his past that he'd found the sea. But it was more like the sea found him. Called him. Beckoned. So here he stayed. In a small flat over a shop—a workshop, to be specific. Three mechanics ran it. And he fished before and after work.

His eyes tracked Gem to where she tied her rowboat to the ladder on the hull of her boat and climbed the rest of the way up before she disappeared inside. Grian was older than Gem by only a few years, and felt a brotherly protectiveness of her. The two who came to the small, sleepy town from the outside.

There was no sign of that large fish he'd seen earlier. The last rays of sunlight were snuffed out by the dark night sky. The orangey glow of streetlamps buzzed to life.

Grian sighed with disappointment. Maybe tomorrow morning...

He turned and moved to stomp back up the dock to go back to his flat—

Before freezing.

A song floated across the surface of the water. The voice a warm baritone. Resonant enough that Grian felt his bones vibrate with the timbre of it, despite the obvious distance it was traveling. He found himself unable to move. Transfixed by the music. Entranced.

Slowly, he pivoted to face the sea again. The rocks that made up the outside barrier that sheltered the marina were dark. Except one spot that had a silvery glow on the far side. Not from moonlight.

Curiosity broke whatever spell he was under. He rushed to make his way around the perimeter of the marina. Toward the glow being cast on the rocks. Stumbling over rough terrain in the darkness.

—

A few tail-lengths down the rocky shore, Tango was crouched, elbows resting on his knees, as he smiled down at Jimmy. Who was on his stomach with his sky-blue tail bent up into the air. Caudal fin drifting up and down. He kept himself upright with his elbows on the ground, resting his chin on his hands as he talked to Tango.

A stone's throw away from those two, Lizzie and Joel were much closer. Joel sitting on the ground with Lizzie fully in his lap, her purplish-blue tail wrapped around him and his fingers lazily playing with her long pink hair.

Pearl and Scar rested as far away as possible. Pearl looked ready to drag him back into the sea at a moment's notice. Jittery and wound up. Scar, for his part, was trying to look relaxed. He was singing to keep himself calm. Tango's good friend and coworker, Etho, was helping splint Scar's tail and stitch his caudal fin back together. He had an intense sort of look to him, but his callused hands were remarkably gentle. Pearl was using what little magic she had to cast enough light for Etho to see and work by. Silvery moonlight from her palm dancing over the rocks where it reflected off the waves.

"You should probably go help Etho," Jimmy remarked to Tango.

"Probably," Tango agreed with a small nod and an unfocused look in his eyes. He didn't move. Didn't stand. Just stayed where he was crouched.

"Thank you for this, by the way," Jimmy said. "I know you would have done it yourself for him but—"

"It's fine. My hands are steady but Etho's are better," Tango remarked. "And he actually knows how to stitch up a wound and make a flexible splint. Or he's creative enough to figure it out. I'm not that creative."

"Sure you are!" Jimmy protested quietly. "You're very creative!"

"I mean, yeah, but not like this. I can make up a game for someone to play, but I can't invent a splint for a merperson's sprained tail. Those are different kinds of creativity and inventiveness." His eyes quickly flicked to the way Jimmy's scales glinted in Pearl's moonlight where scale met skin below his navel and back to Jimmy's eyes. "You're welcome, by the way. It's no problem. Happy to help where we can. For you or people you're close to." Impulsively, he reached out and tugged on the point of Jimmy's caudal fin, causing him to yelp—and dissolve into giggles.

"That tickles!" he protested, his fin sliding out of Tango's grip easily as it lashed back on instinct, clapping against the waves. Tango chuckled. He liked the way Jimmy screwed his eyes shut when he laughed. He liked Jimmy's broad smile. He liked Jimmy's easy personality and warm hazel-brown eyes. He wasn't sure yet what they were—and he hadn't talked to Jimmy about it either—but he wasn't worried. They shared space and conversation easily. He didn't care what they were.

Joel and Lizzie, for their part, didn't even look over at the splash of Jimmy's caudal fin striking the water.

Etho, Scar, and Pearl did. Only briefly.

Had they looked over for a little longer, they might have noticed a dark shadow moving closer, recklessly trampling over loose rocks. But they didn't.

—

Grian peered over the ridge of the rocks. And went stock still.

Etho, Tango, and Joel he recognized. Etho and Tango ran the shop below him with Impulse. Joel ran the small tree nursery up the road and taught painting in the evenings occasionally.

It was the other figures that made Grian freeze where he stood.

The woman in Joel's lap had long pink hair and a fish tail. The blond, athletically-built man staring at Tango like a golden retriever also had a tail. The two by Etho had fish tails as well. The male one, apparently, the source of the song that had drawn Grian around the marina. The female seemed to be the source of the light on the rocks. Etho had flexible metal instruments and some sort of straps that he was using to make some sort of brace at the end of the male's long, green tail flecked with yellows and oranges. There was a long row of stitches down the male's fin.

Grian stared, wide-eyed, his jaw slack. For a long time.

Merpeople?!

Gem was going to freak out, he decided.

A harsh wind blew off the sea. Grian took a step back to maintain his balance.

His heel caught on a loose stone. He careened, his arms pinwheeling.

Splash!

—

Seven heads snapped in the direction of the sound immediately. Pearl curled closer to Scar and bared her teeth in threat. Etho half-stood from his sitting position, looking around. Scar had grabbed Pearl's wrist and just held her there. He'd stopped singing.

Lizzie disappeared off Joel's lap and vanished into the water without so much as a sound.

Jimmy twisted and followed his twin sister into the surf. But instead of lurking in the murky darkness of the ocean at night, he swam around the ridge of the rocks to the back side, where the sound had come from. Tango bolted to his feet, standing upright.

Jimmy saw the human man—young, smaller than Tango somehow (Jimmy was unaware that adult human males could be so small)—appeared to be shocked by the cold of the surf. After a moment, the human began to thrash, fighting to swim back to the surface, obviously struggling with his shoes—as Tango had called them—still on his feet.

Jimmy grabbed the human under his arms and hauled him upwards, breaking the surface and dragging the human onto the rocky shore.

The human coughed as Tango scrambled over the loose, uneven ground to get over to them.

"Holy smokes," Tango said, sliding down the ridge. "Are you okay?" His gaze flicked between Jimmy and the human. Who was facedown but keeping himself up on his elbows as he coughed.

The unknown human coughed again and looked up. His hair was wavy and light brown. His eyebrows scrunched. "Tango?"

Tango gasped and took a step back, nearly losing his balance himself. "Grian?! What are you doing here?"

"You two know each other?" Jimmy asked softly.

"He lives in the apartment above me and Etho's workshop," Tango explained. "He's a friend." Tango dropped to his knees in front of this Grian. "Hey. You okay, G?"

Grian coughed more seawater out of his lungs, but managed a nod. "Fine. Lost my footing." He cleared his throat—hard. "So. Who's going to explain to me what's going on?" He pushed himself to his feet. Drenched and shivering. Tango slid out of his thick bomber jacket and held it out. Grian accepted it and slung it on, shivering. "Tango—"

"Grian, we can explain—" Joel said, scrambling over the top of the ridge.

"I really hope you can," Grian retorted. "Because you were cuddling a mermaid."

Jimmy bristled a little, glowering at the stranger. "Don't talk about my sister like that," he growled.

Grian looked down at where Jimmy was still propped up on the shore. "Uh... sorry?"

"Jimmy," Tango said softly. Almost a warning.

Lizzie's head slid out of the surface, watching with wide eyes.

"Okay... so..." Tango began. "Merfolk exist?"

"Oh, no, really?!" Grian retorted sarcastically. "I hadn't noticed!"

"Listen, Grian. You can't tell anyone," Joel put in. "It's not our secret to share."

"Who would believe me even if I wanted to?" Grian shot back.

"Fair enough," Tango muttered, smirking down at Jimmy, who had not yet relaxed.

"Scar—Scar hold still!" Etho's quiet voice ordered from the other side of the ridge.

"But I wanna seeeeee!" Scar's voice put in.

"Scar," Pearl warned.

Grian peered between Tango and Joel's heads. "That's the voice I heard singing," he said, a touch of wistfulness laced through his voice.

"Oh shrimp," Pearl exclaimed. "Really, Scar? You had to use your siren magic?"

"I didn't mean to!" Scar protested. "I was just trying to distract myself! It's not my fault I'm this handsome and alluring."

The sound of damp skin striking damp skin and Scar yelping in surprise meant Pearl had probably whacked him in the arm. "Not the time to sound arrogant, mate!" she snapped.

Grian slid between Tango and Joel and approached the ridge to peer over it.

Scar shrunk back against Pearl's protective hug as the human got closer. Pearl bared her teeth. The soft moonlight coming from her hand turning from a small orb of light into a sharp-edged dagger. Grian didn't get any closer when he saw it morph.

Etho patted Scar's tail where a human's knee would be. "Go ahead and give that a try. Let me know if it's flexible enough to swim."

Scar looked between Etho, Grian, Tango, and Pearl. Pearl took his hand. The two scooted back into the water and disappeared under the surf.

"Scar!" Pearl said when they were safely deep enough that the others wouldn't hear them. "You can't go using siren magic when we're this close to a human town! You know your songs can be heard farther away than someone else's singing at the same volume. You have to be more careful!"

"I know, I know," Scar replied, looking defeated. "I didn't think anyone would hear."

Pearl sighed. "It's fine. It was just one. You will have to explain to Jimmy and Lizzie's mum what happened, but at least he's friends with the humans who already know." Pearl sunk lower and inspected the brace Etho made. "How's the splint working?"

Scar tested it out, swimming slowly.

—

"Okay," Grian said once the green-tailed male and the white-tailed female had vanished underwater. "So merfolk exist and apparently no one has figured that out yet?" He gave Etho, Tango, and Joel a look.

"We keep ourselves discreet," the pink-haired mermaid who'd been cuddling with Joel said from where she was a few meters out into the water. "Our cities hide from human technology with magic. And that's all you need to know." She spoke with a weight and gravitas to her voice that showed she was used to being obeyed and listened to.

"A few of us find connection with humans, but not many," the broad-shouldered blond merman who'd been making doe eyes at Tango added. "We're not supposed to, but it happens anyway. And you can't tell anyone."

Grian shook his head. "This is a lot to take in. So, wait. Was it one of you I saw earlier today? Near the hull of my friend's boat. I saw a large fish almost break the surface, but not quite."

The blond merman and his pink-haired sister met one another's eyes. "What color did you see?"

"I can't be sure. The sea was murky. Could have been blue, could have been green?"

The pink-haired mermaid sighed. "Scar's being reckless, Jimmy," she said softly to her brother. "He's getting too close."

"You know him, Lizzie. He's curious," the brother said.

"Look," Grian interrupted. "I'm not going to tell anyone. I'm just... startled, I guess? I don't know—"

He was cut off by the green-tailed merman who'd disappeared with the white-tailed mermaid bursting out of the water and doing a flip. "Woohoo!" the man cried as he splashed back in before resurfacing and throwing his hair out of his face.

"Scar!" the white-tailed mermaid protested, her head breaking through the surface. "You have to be quiet!"

"But I can swim on my own again, Pearl! It worked!" He beamed at Etho. In the faint light from the town's streetlights, Grian could see a scar across the bridge of the merman's nose. "Thank you, man!"

Etho shrugged. "Just a little creativity. No big deal."

The white-tailed mermaid raised a brow. "Etho, I don't think you understand how dangerous a sprained tail is," she said. "Without your help, he could have been hunted. We really appreciate it." She pulled herself out of the water and back onto shore. Her eyes were noticeably bright blue and suspicious when they turned on Grian. "You're the one who always has the hooks in the water."

"I just like to fish for the cod."

"Well you've nearly torn Scar's tail! You're lucky he got it caught on something else that wasn't your hook because if that injury had been your fault, no one would have ever found you at the bottom of the sea."

"How is that my fault?!" Grian snapped back. Jimmy and Tango glanced at each other before looking back to Grian—who didn't have time to wonder why they looked so surprised that he was arguing. "If he can't stay away from a fish hook, that's on him. He appears to be a full grown adult and you all have human intelligence so that's not on me!"

The white-tailed mermaid growled.

The pink-haired one muttered, "He's got a point."

"Hey!" the green-tailed merman protested. "It had a shiny thing on the end of it! I wanted to see!"

"That's a lure you tadpole!" Jimmy said with a heavy sigh.

"Don't act like you're the one holding the braincell here, Jim," Joel teased. "Between you and Scar it's a wonder neither of you are in a human zoo."

"Oi!" Jimmy protested at the same time Scar said, "Hey!"

Etho chuckled.

Grian threw his hands up into the air. "I give up! Have a good night. I won't tell anyone. Goodbye. I'm going to bed." He spun, his wader boot heel crunching in the rocky beach, and he stormed off back toward the town.

—

The next morning, Scar surfaced just under the wharf, hidden from prying eyes and quiet. The human from the night before—Grian?— was dangling his feet off the end of the next dock over, fishing line cast out. His fishing rod was held loosely in one hand, the other holding a book he was reading.

Scar could hear the human humming the same siren song Scar had been singing last night in broken pieces.

Smirking, Scar dipped back under the water and pushed himself deep before shoving off the wharf's supporting poles to cross the gap to the human. He looked up at where Grian's bare toes drifted back and forth, kicking idly, and smirked.

Using his arms to swim upward to keep his tail as still as possible while it healed—Etho's brace was great but if he didn't have to use his tail, he didn't want to—Scar got close to the surface.

He snickered to himself and tugged on Grian's toe.

Grian screeched like a startled bird and tore his feet out of the water, scrambling back on the dock.

Scar slid his head out of the water, an easy laugh leaving his throat. "Well, hello there!" he greeted brightly.

"What are you doing?!" Grian hissed. "What was that?!"

"Can't a merman just say hello to a new friend?" Scar asked, pouring bravado into his voice with a smirk.

"Not if you're trying not to draw attention! Not like that, at least!" Grian snapped.

Farther out in the marina, on one of the boats anchored away from the docks and wharfs, a voice called out. "Everything okay, Grian?"

Scar immediately ducked under the dock Grian was on, hiding among the support structures.

"Everything's fine, Gem!" Grian shouted back. "Bit of kelp just brushed my foot."

From the boat, a feminine laugh rang across the water. Scar giggled too, quietly. "Alrighty! Be safe!" Gem called.

After a moment, Grian dropped to his knees at the edge of the dock. "Still here?" he whispered loudly.

Scar popped back out. "Of course!"

"I never caught your name."

"Most people just call me Scar. My full name is too complicated. You're Grian?"

"Yeah."

"Well, Grian, I can't help but notice that you were singing my song." Another smirk.

Grian's expression soured. "You got it stuck in my head."

Scar chuckled. "Well, I mean, if you want," Scar tried to sound confident, but was definitely blustering a little, "you can always meet me in the same place out on those rocks after dark tonight and I'll teach it to you properly. You can meet my cousin Pearl properly too!"

"Was she the scary one with the white tail?"

"That's my Pearlie!"

"Promise she won't try to drown me?"

"She would never!" Scar said, sounding a lot more promising than he felt.

Grian looked skeptical. "Fine. After dark over on the rocks. See you then."

Scar beamed. "See you then!" He moved to dunk back under, and paused. "Also will you tell Tango that Jimmy has a present for him?"

"Sure. Why not. I'll find a time when Impulse isn't there."

"Well, thanks! You have a good day!" He twisted and dove back underwater, heading for open waters.

—

Grian stared at where Scar's long green tail disappeared.

"This is going to be more trouble than it's worth," he muttered. But curiosity was going to get the better of him, he already knew it.

Drawn in by the siren song.

Frustrated, he shook his head and abandoned his fishing for the morning. That would have to wait.

[froglovemushroom]

This Ariel is a Headutt-er!

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x alien!fem!reader (Mantis and Peter Quill's younger sibling)(reader is the same species as Mantis)

Warnings : A wee bit of violence

Summary: Instead of Prince Eric, it was Ariel herself who swept you off your feet.

Aurhor's note: everyone is alive in all my fics, except if a specific setting or timeline is mentioned

This is a fic requested by @fayhar ! I'm so sorry it took me so long to finish this, I got too caught up with classes. But it's summer break now and I can finally write again! Hope you like this fic! English isn't my first language so please point out the mistakes nicely, I'll fix it 🥲

It all started when Yondu handed Peter a DVD that he had obtained from Earth.

The cover of the DVD box read 'The Little Mermaid' with a picture of what looked like a girl who is half Terran and half fish with bright red hair.

It was the first time the gang ever watched an animated movie during movie night and everyone had different reactions. Drax made silly comments, Rocket complained about certain scenes, Peter would place a kiss on the crown of Gamora's head during the more romantic scenes, and she would cuddle closer to him, Mantis and Groot were gushing about the little details and Nebula, surprisingly, seemed to enjoy the movie.

And you? You were enchanted by the whole thing, from the dinner scene, to the little fair date and boat ride. From all catchy songs and romantic lines to the heartbreaking conflicts ang the heroic fights.

You laughed, you cried, and you were undeniably HOOKED.

And let's just say with a little bit of begging (and using your big black puppy eyes), you managed to convince your brother to get Yondu to find more of these wonderful films.

You would consume every single thing that Yondu could get his hands on in a crazy short amount of time. Mantis would find you huddled up into a little ball on the couch in the middle of the night, eyes gleaming like a little child as you watched whatever new DVD that Yondu had gotten his hands on.

From old Disney movies like Cinderella and Beauty and the Beast, to the more modern ones like Tangled and Frozen, you had seen them all.

But alas, 'The Little mermaid' is the one that holds your heart.

And as result of all the Disney that you've been slurping up, you eventually found yourself wondering if you're going to get your happy ending.

When is a prince Eric coming to sweep you off your feet? Take you on carriage rides and dancing at carnivals? Are you even going to get a happy ending?

Your brother told you there is someone for everyone in the galaxy.

"And when you meet them.....You'll know it."

He'd said, as he looked at Gamora with a warm loving gaze.

You found it hard to believe.

You'll know it when you meet them? How???

You were skeptical.

Until one day when the Guardians got invited to a party by Tony Stark himself, did you find yourself staring at a certain woman.

It was nearly midnight, the music was still blaring loudly and you found yourself getting a little too overwhelmed, so you decided to flee the scene to catch some fresh air.

You stepped outside, eyes closed as you feel the cool wind gently brush against your skin. You had expected that the party was going to be a little too much for you, but what you hadn't expected was for there to be someone else at the balcony.

This 'someone else' was a woman, and beautiful one at that. She was wearing a black cocktail dress, the fabric hugging her body in all the right places. Her fiery red mane was curled to perfection, the luscious tendrils framed her face like puzzle pieces that fell perfectly into place.

Ariel.

That was the first word that came to your mind.

Her eyes were closed, lengthy eyelashes fluttered in the wind, and she huffed out a deep sigh, seemingly bothered by whatever it is that's on her mind.

You reached out to place a hand on her shoulder, aiming to calm her down and maybe make her feel a little more at ease with the help of your powers.

But the slight brush of your fingertips against her skin was enough to make you end up on the cold ground. With your wrists pinned to the hard surface nonetheless.

Your antennaes tensed, the gears in your head were running miles per hour, one second you were reaching out and the next thing you know you had been headbutted onto the floor into a vulnerable position.

With your mind still spiralling, you spat out the first thing in your mind.

"H-hello! A-are you Ariel?"

What?

It looked like your question had taken the woman aback, her eyebrows furrowed in confusion. Did this bitch with antennaes just ask her if she was a Disney character?

"Am- Am I who??"

"A-ariel?"

You had no idea what's going on, but you were somehow very, very intrigued by the woman on top of you.

The woman looked at you up and down at your attire.

Party wear.

It took her a second before she realized that you were just one of the people invited tonight, and she quickly apologized.

"Sorry about that, my fight or flight reflexes just kicked in. And to answer your question, no, I am not Ariel. "

She chuckled in amusement when she saw you slightly deflate.

"Aw... Bummer"

You had mumbled to yourself, earning another chuckle from the redhead beside you.

You both stayed silent for a while after that, blocking out the muffled music playing inside and relishing in the peaceful night atmosphere outside.

"So...You're really not Ariel?"

Her head turned to look you, elbow on the balcony railing with her chin resting on ther palm.

"Sorry to dissapoint you, but no, I'm not."

The small pout that appeared on your lips made her smile.

The both of you started to pick on some random topics to talk about. Your jobs, hobbies, crime cases, outer space, everything you could possibly imagine.

Natasha could feel the click and so could you, the both of you felt a lot more settled than expected.

"So...Are you going to tell me your name"

You paused, you had completely forgotten to tell her your name. She let out a breathy laugh as you come to the realization.

"My name's Y/n, I'm one of the Guardians."

you shyly mumbled, hand fiddling with an antennae, a sign that you're embarassed, it's a little habit you've had ever since you were a young bug.

"Y/n huh? I like that."

The way your name rolled off her lips made you slightly dizzy, it sounded good, way too good, enchanting even.

"Don't you want to know my actual name?"

Your ears perked up at that.

"It's Natasha, Natasha Romanoff."

"Wow..."

It was even prettier than you expected it to be, and it fits her a lot. Her voice kept repeating in your mind, and it won't go away.

The echo of her beautiful name.

Natasha Romanoff, Natasha Romanoff, Natasha Romanoff....

"Do you like my name that much?"

"Huh?"

"You've been saying my name in repeat for a while now."

yikes.

"And your face is all red"

double yikes.

Your antennaes drooped as you fidget in place, eyes looking anywhere but at her. Your mind was spinning, everything was going at full speed in there, you didn't know what to think, what to say, what to do, it was all so fast to the point where everything was a blur.

Seeing you panicking like this made her chuckle. Sure she knew she's got an effect on people, and she never really cared about them.

But what you're failing to see here is that you had just as much of an effect on her. The way you looked so attentively at her whenever she speaks, as if absorbing every single word with such care and warmth, the way your eyes gleam when you asked if she's Ariel, down to the way you're panicking at her teasing right now, everything about you made her feel all warm. Comfortable even.

You're odd, but it only made her want to get to know you more.

Her slender fingers reached out, gently lifting your chin to make you look at her.

"Do you know that you're very strange?"

The sensors on your head drooped even further at that, is it because you're not a Terran? Is it because you look weird and have antennaes?

"I'm sorry I'm not a terran..."

Her eyebrows furrowed.

"What?"

"I'm not like you Natasha, I'm not terran..."

You felt her hands move to cup your face, and oh how you wish you could lean on them forever.

"Y/n, you've misunderstood, I meant it in a good way, and you're strange because,well, you're you. You're unique. And it has nothing to do with having antennaes or not. Though they do add to your scale of cuteness."

She laughed as your face started to flush once more, releasing your face to lean on the railing.

You don't know if you wanna slap that cheeky grin off her lips or kiss her it off instead, but your mind was once again all hazy.

Gosh, you're down bad.

Leaning onto the railing, you closed your eyes to calm yourself down, focusing on the cool night wind blowing at your face.

It felt nice and calming. What time is it? It's probably way past midnight, and with the soft wind cradling you, your mind was starting to slowly fall into rest.

Unbeknownst to you, Natasha had her eyes on you this whole time, and your dipping head landed onto her waiting palm, stopping you from headbanging onto the railing.

She carried you as your knees started to buckle, carefully placing you on the couch in the living room. She watched over you until the guardians decided that it was time to leave, they thanked her and walked out into the night with you still fast asleep on Gamora's back.

The twinge of jealousy that appeared was something unexpected.

Why is she jealous? Was it the fact that you seem so comfortable the zenwhoberian? Was it because she wanted to be the one you snuggle into? The one you're most comfortable with?

Whatever it is, she knew she must meet you again.

You woke up in a daze the next morning. How'd you end up back in your room? Weren't you talking with Natasha?

Where's Natasha?

The sound of the door creaking open put your thoughts to a pause.

"Y/n! Breakfast is ready!"

Peter walked in with a glass of water in his hand, handing it over for you to drink.

"What's on your mind? I can see the gears in your head turning you know?"

You placed the glass down on the nightstand before turning to face you brother.

"PETER!"

"Wha- why the shout?!"

"What did you do before you married Mora?"

A blink.

Another blink.

"Oh, I proposed."

"What's proposed?"

And that's how Peter ended up telling you the whole story of him going ring shopping.

"I wanna buy a ring!"

Peter choked on his own spit. Whom for?? When did you find a lover?

"I wanna propose to Natasha!"

And the next thing he knew, he was already dragged out of the door.

The day somehow ended with you bouncing on your feet outside the avengers compound, a panting Peter Quill right behind you.

You had requested to meet Natasha, and was currently waiting for her to come down the multiple floors of the tower.

Peter was still trying to catch his breath after running around non-stop for the whole day.

"Y/n *pant* you can't just-"

He was cut off by the sound of the elevator door opening, revealing the gorgeous red-headed woman of your dreams.

"Hey Y/n, what's up-"

"Marry me!"

The whole floor went silent. Until Peter awkwardly spoke up,

"Sorry, I really tried to stop her, but she wouldn't listen."

When the redhead heard that you had come to give her a visit, she was much more excited than she would admit, her heart was pounding and she was in the elevator merely seconds after she heard the information, wanting to know why you were here again.

But a proposal from you was not something that she had expected.

"Marry me please Natasha?"

She looked at you standing there with puppy eyes, your hands presenting a red gemmed ring pop to her. This was certainly not something she gets to see everyday.

A hearty chuckle escaped her lips, and you deflated a bit, thinking that maybe she was mocking you. But your thoughts were dismissed when you feel a pair of soft lips pressed against your cheek.

"You're adorable you know that?"

You were frozen in place, did she just kiss you on the cheek?

What does this mean?

"As cute as this whole proposal was, I think I'll have to refuse it."

Your antennaes drooped in disappointment. You just got rejected.

"But instead..."

She placed her fingers on your chin.

"Let me take you out on a few dates first hm?"

Your mouth open and closed in wordless confusion.

"Date?"

"Yes date, we can go anywhere you'd like, how about that?"

Your eyes gleamed.

"Can we watch The Little Mermaid?"

She threw her head back laughing. Oh, could you be any cuter than you already are? But of course, she nodded and pulled you with her into the elevator. Leaving poor Peter to go back to the ship by himself.

Though he didn't mind, because seeing his sister so happy was worth it.

Maybe you'd have your happy ending after all, not with Prince Eric, but with beautiful badass Ariel instead.

And that's more than enough for you ❤️

Oh, and Thor asked for the ring pop, and you gave it to him. Thor is happy. Good job!

MASTERLIST

Tbh I deleted the whole thing halfway through cause it was a mess and I hated it, and so I had to rewrite it again😂

[fanaticsnail]

I watched the Storyteller version of Sapsorrow and knew it sounded familiar! I read "The Magic Fish" by Trung Le Nguyen. It's a graphic novel about a young Vietnamese boy struggling to come out to his friends and parents, particularly because they're immigrants and he feels they might not understand. His mother and him bond over fairy tales and there are three main tales in the novel that are used thematically, the first is Tattercoats (i.e; Sapsorrow), the second is a Vietnamese story Tâm Cám, and the third is the little mermaid. The Tattercoats story is a little different than the Sapsorrow Storyteller version or your version, but the art is beautiful I seriously recommend the book from the art alone (and if not the art, the Vietnamese fairy tale is kind of like Cinderella at the beginning but so interesting and full of plot twists).

I have to thank you for introducing me to Storyteller though, I'm gonna have fun looking at all their other retellings.

Oh my goodness, I know The Magic Fish! I haven't read that one in years!! Thank you for reminding me it exists, sweet snail. I adore it.

Of the Storyteller Series (1988), I have littered some of the plot points in several others.

Remember Me: (Shanks x Bride!Reader), I had "the true bride" in mind. Particularly her apprehension at having her hair touched. In the story in that case, it was a promise to not let another person kiss their cheek - in mine it was a sweep of the hair.

Drawing inspiration from things that impact your heart is so much fun. Makes it all the more real, in my humble opinion.

There are only nine episodes: (All are linked to YouTube for ease)

The Soldier and Death

Fearnot

The Luck Child

A Story Short

Hans My Hedgehog

The Three Ravens

Sapsorrow

The Heartless Giant

The True Bride

I would honestly love to write an OP fic for each of these.

Soldier and Death - Zoro He traps death, now unable to die. He has lived his life to the fullest, but death is the only thing that truly fears him. Reader is the reaper, ordered by Death to not claim him. Fearnot - Luffy He's just a sunshine boy who has never been frightened a day in his life. He wants to experience fear. Just once. The Luck Child - Buggy He is a failing forward king, as the usual. Circumstances demand his death, he continues to thrive. A Story Short - Usopp He has to perform a series of storytelling adventures and present them towards the court for a hundred days. On the hundredth day, he has come up with nothing. What will he do? Hans My Hedgehog - Corazon He will only reveal himself to his wife at night, cursed as a monster within the hours of daylight. She wants to break him of this curse, but has no knowledge to help him. The Three Ravens - Sanji Just imagine Sanji desperately crying out for his love to grace him with the sound of her voice, begging her to say something to aid in her defence - bound to the stake and threatened with death if she does not speak. Ahhhhh. Screaming. Sapsorrow - The one I'm actively working on with Mihawk The Heartless Giant - Doflamingo Speaks for itself, truly. He just is. I could also do this for Sir Crocodile, if I wasn't too busy shipping him with @empressofmankind's Shivs. The True Bride - Already partially did for Shanks. I would love to visit this trope again for him though. Have him be the one with amnesia trope.

Honestly, I would love to do this as a massive moot fairytale collaborative au.

@since-im-already-here - what say you, sis? You reckon I've got the characters and the prompts down for each series?

@gingernut1314, do you know this jim henson series? You want to take a crack at one of them?

@writingmysanity - go on. I know you want to do the Corazon. You so, so want to do the Corazon.

@sordidmusings 👀 c'mon now. Romance, pining. Angst. All that good stuff, dear.

@feral-artistry, you've even already drawn some puppets. You know you want to....

[watercolorfreckles]

Deep Blue - Part 3

Part 1, Part 2

The sea became an inky black, or maybe that was just his vision tunneling. His head swooped with hungry shadows ready to swallow him down into that darkness.

The pirate blinked forcefully, shaking his head and tossing away with it the heavy tug of unconsciousness.

He had to stay awake.

He could see, now, that the water wasn't black, but red. With every stroke of the siren's tail, plumes of blood sullied the water.

The siren's movements began to slow, and the claws gripping the pirate's collar eased. He glanced down at her, through the bleary haze of salt water.

The siren's eyelids sagged. With a final languid sweep of her tail, the siren fell still, drifting motionless in the brackish water.

The pirate ripped away from her, kicking for the surface. His lungs ached and his ears popped with the changes in pressure.

Breaching the surface, he gasped in a greedy gulp of air. Coughing and panting, he scanned their surroundings.

The view was different, now, than it was where they’d entered the water. His attention snagged on the hollowed-out, fallen tree that helped orient him: They had traveled a significant distance around the crook of the bay. The fisherman was no longer within sight.

The shoreline wasn't terribly far. He could certainly swim that distance, even if it left him aching.

His gaze traveled back down to the smear of bloody waters around him. The siren was hurt badly...

If he left her, she would bleed to death.

Groaning, the pirate dove back down. He squinted, eyes readjusting to the darkness until he found her again. She looked almost peaceful then, suspended in the silky depths, golden hair floating around her head like a halo.

Grabbing the beautiful, deadly creature under the arms, the cabin boy hauled her to the surface. When he broke through, his breath came ragged with effort.

Keeping hold of the siren, he reclined to float on his back. He kicked his legs and towed her with him.

It was a slow and grueling process, fighting the waves that tumbled over his face to stall his breath. Only able to use his legs to swim, dragging the dead weight of the siren required all the strength in his arms.

It felt an eternity later that the pirate collapsed on the sand next to the beautiful, deadly creature he'd lowered down with care.

His limbs burned.

But the siren was still bleeding.

The harpoon had splintered in half upon impact, leaving its head buried within the scar of jagged flesh it had carved into the tight knit of her scales.

The sunlight traced the angles of her face, ethereal and unmoving in sleep. She looked like the sort of statue carved of marble that artists spent an eternity molding to angelic perfection. The gold of her tail outshone the sun.

Her blood stained the sand.

He groaned again. "Why do I feel responsible for you?! You just tried to kill me! If I left you here, that would be my right."

The pirate watched the siren as if expecting a reply. 

Throwing his gaze heavenward, he murmured a curse.

She would never survive here on the shore, not after his boss had the opportunity to flood gossip through the whole town of what he'd seen.

He shoved to his feet despite the protest of his legs.

"Alright, alright, I won't leave you, Golden. Don't worry."

The pirate slid his arms under the siren, bracing himself before heaving her into his hold. His muscles strained with the effort and he swayed on his feet, off balance.

He clenched his teeth and took one step, then another. He finally stepped into the treeline, carrying the mermaid the painstaking distance back to the abandoned cabin he'd claimed as the place to rest his head since coming to this dull, little town. 

Kicking open the door, the pirate plopped the siren onto the bed, shoving the door shut again and letting himself crumple to the floor.

He still needed to tend to the siren's wound, and he would. Just after a moment's reprieve.

After the first slow blink, his eyes were too heavy to open again.

He fell into slumber as though sinking over the edge of a drop-off.

---

The cabin boy woke to the sound of screaming.

He sat up in a panicked jolt. "What-"

His gaze met the siren's.

The... former siren's.

Where her tail once was, two human legs sprawled in its place. The spearhead and wound were still there, however, marring the smooth flesh of her bare upper thigh.

The pirate quickly averted his gaze. "What-" he repeated.

Fury burned behind the gold of the former siren's eyes. "What have you done, you insufferable human!" she screamed.

Snarling, she lunged at the pirate, promptly wobbling and crashing to her knees.

The cabin boy caught her by the shoulders.

She recoiled from his touch, hissing and swiping at him with nails far duller than the claws she'd once possessed.

Easily snatching up her wrists and squeezing, the pirate held her still. "Easy. Easy. You've lost a lot of blood."

Their eyes met. Hers, a knife's point. Her bare chest heaved with quick breaths.

The pirate made a point not to look.

He could see the exhaustion sweep over her as she slumped back against the bed frame, pressing a hand to her wound.

The cabin boy let her go, watching her carefully. "I'm going to get something to stop the bleeding and clean that. Don't move."

He felt her gaze on him as he retrieved a bottle of rum, a towel, a wooden spoon, and a spare bed sheet. Returning to her side, the pirate carefully lifted her back onto the bed.

The siren hissed again like an animal and skittered back until she hit the wall. "Get away from me."

"I'm trying to help you, Goldie," the pirate said, exasperated. "That could get infected. Besides, do you expect to walk around with that broken harpoon in your leg?" He paused and blinked. "Granted, I haven't deigned to expect you to walk... at all." He gestured to her newfound limbs.

The siren bared her teeth. "This is your fault! Any siren can give up their tail by venturing onto land and drying out. Such is a disgrace! Should a siren want to subvert herself into human scum, the ocean will indulge her."

The cabin boy raised his hands in placation. "Then when you're better, I'll take you back to the water."

"No," she snapped. Her gaze dropped down to her legs, blonde waves curtaining her face. When she spoke again, her voice was raw and soft. It carved its way through his chest all the same; the warbling hum of a plucked violin string. "It... It cannot be undone."

Something twisted in the pirate's stomach.

He should be glad to leave the ocean with one less monster; to make the waters an ounce safer for fellow unsuspecting sailors.

His thoughts flashed to the heaving storms able to capsize ships; to the rocks and reefs the sailors must avoid, and the gaping expanse of open ocean when no land is in sight.

Sailing the Deep Blue was never about safety.

Dangerous as the creature before him had been, she was a creature of the sea. To take that from her would be to cleave the fins from a fish, or cut the wings from a bird and call it justice.

He swallowed. "I'll do what I can for you, Golden," he said softly, lifting the towel.

The siren flinched, eyeing him pointedly.

Meeting her gaze briefly with a look of what he hoped was reassurance, he proceeded slowly, pressing the towel around her wound. "I need to get the spearhead out. This won't be pleasant. Bite down on this." He held the wooden spoon out to her.

The siren glared but obeyed, taking it between her teeth.

The cabin boy did his best to ease the spikes of the spearhead out without ripping it out straight backward. Harpoons were made to hook into the blubber of whales, not with the intent of slipping free seamlessly.

When he'd positioned the weapon so that he could remove it with the least damage possible, he pulled it out.

The siren shrieked, dropping her head back against the wall.

"Shh, shh, all done, it's done," the pirate said, pressing the towel more firmly against the wound. "You did great. All that's left is to clean and dress the wound." His hand moved on its own, tucking the siren's hair out of her eyes.

Her attention snapped to him. But she didn't bite or claw or hiss.

For a moment, he could only stare, transfixed.

Becoming human did not dull the allure of her.

Clearing his throat, the pirate bit the cork of the rum bottle, spitting it aside. "This will sting..."

He poured the alcohol over the afflicted flesh and the siren softly screeched again.

"I'm sorry, golden, all done, see?" Quickly tearing the spare sheet into strips, he set to work wrapping the wound and tying the makeshift bandage off. "There."

He glanced up at her again. "Oh. Here."

He shucked his white button-down shirt off and wrapped it around the siren's exposed shoulders.

Her face creased with confusion as she lifted one sleeve.

The cabin boy's lips twitched up into a smile. "You put your arms through. Like this." Using gentle fingers, he helped her thread her arms through before working on the buttons, averting his gaze and fumbling awkwardly as he did so.

"There." When he looked back up at her face, the siren was already asleep.

He studied her in the dimming light. Something about her registered as angelic. Nothing so deserving of the title of sea demon.

And yet… It would be foolish of him to let himself become ensnared by the lethal creature that wanted nothing more than to drown sailors such as him. Beautiful as she may be.

What had he gotten himself into?

The pirate leaned back against the wall and listened to the steady swell of the siren's breathing.

Part 4

Thank you to @valiantlytransparentwhispers and @writing-on-the-wahl for being betas :)

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[thetxtdevil]

TxT as Mystical Creatures

What mystical creatures would txt be?

Warnings: grammar doesn’t exist to me, slightly suggestive

Yeonjun - Vampire

Jun is a vampire theres no questions about it

looks amazing in black and red

along with Victorian style

a FLIRT

imagine his lips caressing your neck 🫣

imagine his fangs poking out when you kiss

Soobin - Elf

not me thinking of a hobbit type elf but...

so pretty yet a great leader

him letting you touch his pointed ears

he has to lean down to do so because elves are tall

Strolling through the woods his big hand around your waist

Beomgyu - Pixie

pixies look sweet like gyu

but they're quite mischievous just like gyu

his deja vu long hair photos exactly what i'm thinking

he'd fly around you so fast leaving pixie dust until you got dizzy

Taehyun - Mermaid/Siren

thinking about his glistening abs from the Sugar Rush Ride mv

oh how his muscle be flexed when he would swim

his curiosity is like the little mermaid

AND HIS VOICE he could lead the strong and the weak to him to their steal valuables steal my heart

Huening Kai - Sylph

i didn't want to be cliche and say he would be an angle although he is

i did a little research and established that kai is a sylph

a little pixie like spirit of the air

he's gorgeous and I just connect him with blue and green hues

you would be walking through a field of grass and all of the sudden a gust of wind sweeps you off your feet and you find yourself dancing in clouds with kai

A nuisance,

TxT’s Devil♥️

[spaceshipsoutthepool]

I was trying to draw a bunch of my OCs /NpCs in an hour. heres a few that are thunderbirds and stingray. I messed up on Jokster though sorry my dude. Jackie-Ann Gris is the only one to have actually appeared in a fanfic as yet. Brief description of each under the cut

Alice Lie. 28 lesbian. Academic. Historian tour guide and national trust/british heritage's newest sceutary of the Creighton-Ward Manor. Samll crush on her lady ship. Bit shy Very kind hearted but has awful luck follow her around. No clue what spy secrets her employer is actually hiding. For now. Wip Story: war on the roses

"Zara smith" 29 Alice's sort of girlfriend. Zara seemed to pop up out of the blue and sweep Alice off her feet. But now they've been together a little while Alice is worried somthing in the relationship is a bit off. It is, because Zara is as fake as her dyed hair. (So sue me I love a goth baddie.) By why would someone go out of thier way to fake date a Manor tour guide hmmmm? Wip Story: war on the roses

Percivle Chrighton-ward. Lady Ps little brother. Sees himself as 'the prodigal son' and real heir to the estate. Posh prick. Homophobic/transphobic cunt too. Parker would love to love to kick his arse. irratelable and irateing. Deepy jealous of his older siblings especially his sister but absolutely clueless to what she actually does for a living. Rocks up to ask for money. Is the only one to get under Penelope's skin. Will get his competence . No fixed story as yet

Tola or Tokla. Bout 16- 20 in human years. My baby! Seamonkey mermaid when in the water. Shapeshifer human father. Refugee. Lives and works as Translatour and teacher in Pacifica. but joins the wasps temporarily when trouble strikes marina. Loves human stuff. Wip story: seasick.

Jokster. she/them/ it. Pacfica's royal fool/clown. Froggy feet flippers. Teller of tall true tales and even bigger fibs. I am half convinced they're made out of elastic. No fixed story as yet

Jackie-Ann Gris . Phones' younger sister. mum of three. Chatty and a hugger. You will be pet named. Very do no harm take no shit mentality. Appereed in Story: A Baby-grow Onesie with Fishes and Boats on.

[oonajaeadira]

Hi lovely! Hope you're doing swell!

I'm coming in hot with an unsolicited Pats question for you - because I literally cannot think about anything but how BAD he has it for Preciosa - so I hope you don't mind.

I've been wondering about his other clients. What is he like with them and how does it compare to what he's like with his #favoriteclient ? Do any of them notice anything different in the way he is with them since he's started letting himself get closer to Miss Thursday? And while I'm here... Do any of them ever communicate with Shell after she sends them to his door, or is that a hard line she doesn't cross?

Hello, bby. Thank you for coming in hot. It is so very cold outside right now that I live for any kind of heat. ANY.

I recognize that you sent this ask before the great "Let's Try This" thing they've started up, but it still applies. The short answer is, it doesn't change much in the way you'd think, but so much more in other ways. And the long answer is down below.

And while I have YOU *huggle*...Shell gets her fair share of gift baskets and special perks, some mysterious VIP treatments and really grand bouquets. But once she's sent a potential client his way and they've been accepted and treated, if they ever run into her again to thank her, well. She generally just gives them a sly little half smile and tells them, "That sure sound's wonderful, hon, but I'm sure I don't have any idea what you're talking about."

Speaking of other clients...

Kiss and Tell: It's Still About You (GTTT PATS)

FANDOM: Calls - Apple TV (PATS is a character from ep. 3. “Pedro Across the Street.” This is not RPF.)

As with all of my PATS installments, warnings abound for explicit content.

He can feel his eyebrows pulling together at the blue and purple blemish that’s interrupting the precious dimples in his client’s thigh. His fingers trace around it for a moment before he circles the table to her other side to the bruise he noticed on her knee a few minutes ago...and a couple near her elbow. These have more green in them, further along in healing.

Running his hands over her soft, bare belly, pushing gently to move and work the holding muscles there, he watches her face. Jaw relaxed. Eyelashes feathering over the apples of her cheeks. She’s got nice, ample breasts and he’s gentle as he works his oiled hands around them. She doesn’t flinch, just relaxes into his touch, total trust.

That’s a good sign. Still. Just to make sure he asks, “You feel safe at home?”

“Hmm?” Her mermaid blue eyes drift open in wakening confusion.

“You have some pretty heavy bruises today and I noticed a few on you last time. Just wanna check in.”

Smiling and letting her eyes drift closed, she melts herself back into the table. “Eh. I’m just a danger to myself. I bruise easily and have no idea where half of them come from half the time. I’m a walking billboard for the Klutz Lifestyle.”

“Okay…” his voice isn’t as confident as his hands, but he has to trust her.

“But thank you,” she laughs lightly, punctuating her self-condescending remarks, “Really. I promise you, Mitch questions them too. He keeps threatening to make me a suit out of bubble wrap and duct tape. I told him gray’s not my color.”

This makes him chuckle as he dips his fingers between her legs. “Looks like you’re good and ready for hour two. Wanna move on over to the bed?” Holding her hand as if she’s a princess descending a carriage, he guides her, taking note of her hazy, relaxed smile. “Sounds like you’ve got yourself a good husband.”

“Yeah. He’s playing online with his buddies tonight. Sends his love. And his thanks. He likes the things you teach me.”

“On your stomach, legs together. Gonna try something new. Show you a few ways to take care of those knees when they’re bruised.”

As she slides onto the sheets, he takes note of the bruise on her thigh so he won’t grab it accidentally when he’s in his throes, pushing gently at her skin and curves, sweeping her pink and green hair off her back, just making a final check to make sure he didn’t miss any other sore spots. He runs his hand lightly down to pat her soft ass, bringing forth the most satisfying jiggle from below and her pillow-muffled giggle from above.

Sliding a condom out of the bedside table-drawer, he prepares it and sheathes himself as he explains, “My girlfriend gets mystery bruises too. Happens when she’s in a hurry. Instead of slowing down, she just keeps moving and says ‘that’ll leave a bruise’ out loud. Says it helps stick the moment in her brain so when she finds the bruise later she’ll remember where it came from. If she slows down for a second then it’s in the forefront of her mind so she can grab something cold to ice it as soon as possible. Cuts down on the severity and the duration of the bruise. I recommend trying it.” Rolling the condom down to his base, he mounts the bed and straddles her legs, pulling her cheeks apart and exposing her more sensitive parts, blowing gently and smiling when she clenches. “After you recognize the pattern of how you’re getting hurt, you can start protecting and correcting your actions. I’m not a doctor, but I might also recommend talking to one about getting more sun and more vitamin K. Water’s your friend. I’ll mark your chart.”

She giggles low and pleasingly in her throat. “I didn’t know you had a girlfriend. Is that new?”

“Relatively.”

“Does she know you do this?”

He lines himself up, her breath hitching a beat as he slides his tip around her opening. This one’s a talker, loves chatter in bed, but he always likes to see what can throw her off her game. “She’s very aware.”

“Mmmmm. That’s nice. She must be pretty cool. Lucky you.”

Without answering, he slides in and she gives him a silken moan. When she turns her head to the side, he can just make out her smile through her splayed hair. The client is happy. Melting. She clearly feels better than when she came in. And she’ll go home to her husband and show him these techniques and they’ll enjoy them. She’s come so far since her first session months ago. He did that. Does that. Is doing it. It makes him rock hard. He’s so fucking good at this and he knows it.

And you know it. You know it and you don’t ask him not to.

He refrains from speaking further about you. There are private lines he doesn’t cross for the good of everyone. It’s fitting for some of his more trusted clients to know he has his own attachments and that everything is open and honest; that they themselves and their sessions aren’t a cause of any possible trouble. But they don’t need to know anything about him or about you beyond that. You are his treasure, his alone. He’s going to keep your understanding and your trust like a jewel tucked in close to the chest, handle you preciously, take joy in your generosity.

He does not answer the client. Not out loud. But as he takes in her satisfaction and triumphs in his own skills, he closes his eyes and angles his chin to the ceiling, sighing a silent prayer, “You have no fucking idea.” _____

Your phone rings as you’re putting a load of laundry into the dryer.

“Hey there, loverboy. I thought you had a client tonight.”

“I do. She’s sleeping. What are you up to?”

There’s a confidence in his voice as he speaks that sparks something in your core, an easy, non-apologetic tone, a man talking to his girl with nothing to hide. It’s not exactly easy yet, knowing he is intimate with so many others, but he doesn’t speak about them with regret or shame, only the professional respect and demeanor you’ve spent so many months admiring, and that helps immensely.

It’s the first time he’s called you immediately after a session though. And you find that you like it. A lot. Just because he was servicing someone doesn’t mean he’s not thinking of you.

“Laundry. Not as fulfilling as your evening. But hey, clean sheets are always very relaxing.”

“Sounds nice. Those the floral ones?”

“Uh..” How did he…oh. That time he took care of you when you were sick. He must have seen them then. “Yeah.”

“Hmm.” He’s silent for a moment, you can tell he’s gearing up to ask you something. You’ve learned to wait, although it’s still hard to anticipate the best case scenario. “I…don’t mean to invite myself over, but would you mind if I mess them up a little this weekend?”

And you laugh. Another win for the best case scenario. “I mean, you could mess them up a lot this weekend if you wanted.”

“Yeah? There a time that works best? Or should I just pull in the welcome mat and have my neighbor watch for packages?”

And you smile, remembering that it’s only been a couple of days since your first weekend together, wandering his house in nothing but togas made of rumpled sheets, spending much of it wound up in his arms, on your back, curled up napping on the couch with the tv on, sipping coffee sitting side by side on his kitchen counter….

“I’d tell you to pack a bag, but you’re not really going to need clothes. This time you’re mine, loverboy.”

______

NEXT

MASTERLIST

SERIES MASTERLIST

[tabsters]

SOMEONE LIKE ME (CHAP. 9) - A STARGLASS ZODIAC X ZODIAC EXPERIMENT CROSSOVER

i had to split this chapter into two parts cause i just kept writing so many fucking words—

previous chapter is here

next chapter is here

masterpost is here

tagging @mythicalmagical-monkeyman @hyperfixation-tangentopia @maiawhimsicalt and @sweet-star-cookie

Cassie's outfit fitting took significantly less time than Gemini's, partly because there were less dresses to choose from. She also held a lot more still while Columba dusted a small amount of blush and concealer across her cheeks. 

"If we had more time, we could've custom-made a dress for you," Columba lamented, holding up a dark purple off the shoulder dress. "But we unfortunately do not have such luxuries."

"No, I think gold suits her better," Cygnus said, holding up a gold and black striped dress. "Compliments her eyes."

"She'll look like a bee!" Columba protested, pulling out a bright blue mermaid dress and holding out in front of her. "Blue. Matches her eyes."

"Do the red one!" Gemini shouted from where she was floating in the corner, out of Cassie's sight. "The one with the cape!"

Cygnus rummaged around some more, before pulling out a long sleeved red dress, hemmed with white fur on the edges and accompanied with a slightly darker red cape. Cassie was immediately reminded of Leo, who wore a similar dress. 

I wonder how Leo's doing without me. I wonder how everyone else is doing without me.

"How 'bout it, Cassie?" Gemini asked, startling Cassie out of her thoughts.

"Hm? Oh, yeah! I like that one the best." Cassie nodded in agreement.

"Excellent decision." Cygnus placed the dress and cape into Cassie's arms. "The Kingdom of Aigokeros is always very cold, so this should help with the chill."

"Oh, wear these boots too."  Columba set a pair of matching fur-trimmed boots at Cassie's feet. They had little pom-poms hanging off of the boot collar. 

Cassie picked up the boots with one hand, cradling her dress in the other, stumbling into the changing room. She changed into the dress, and the warm fabric was softer than anything she'd ever worn. The hem fell to about calf-length, and the cape draped around her ankles. The boots were also very soft and went up to her knees. She certainly wouldn't be freezing anytime soon.

"How's it look?" Cassie asked, sweeping back the curtain. 

Both Columba and Cygnus squealed in delight. 

"Adorable!"

"So precious!"

"Not bad," Gemini said, looking Cassie over. "Could use a little...somethin' extra, though. Lemme see what I can find."

She went over to her vanity, opening several drawers, looking for something. She let out a little "aha!" when she found what she was looking for—a brass hair clip in the shape of a star. 

"Here, lemme see." Gemini twisted a couple strands of Cassie's hair into a braid crown, pinning it in the back with the clip. "There we go. Take a look." 

She stepped back so Cassie could look at herself in the mirror.

"Whoa." She looked...really pretty and sophisticated. She couldn't remember the last time she dressed up this fancy. "I look...really good!"

"Yeah, you do!" Gemini softly patted Cassie's head, so as not to disturb her hair. "Hope you're ready to dance a lot in that. Although knowing Capricorn, she's probably gonna make us all slow dance to classical music." She blew a raspberry and stuck her thumbs down. "Bo-ring!" 

"Classical music is a rather amazing genre, Your Grace," Pegasus suddenly said, reappearing out of nowhere. She had changed into a light brown three piece suit, with golden buttons and chains as well as a dark red tie. "Perhaps if you practiced your piano more, you would come to appreciate it."

Gemini opened her mouth to retort, but was cut off by someone knocking at the door. Columba hurried to open it. Standing in the doorway was Ophiuchus, wearing a floor-length dark green ball gown with black accents. Asclepius was curled around her neck like some type of sentient boa.

"Everyone ready to go?" She asked, walking into the room and kissing Gemini on the cheek. Asclepius raised their head and hissed at Cassie, bobbing their head up and down enthusiastically. 

Gemini flushed pink, took Ophiuchus' hand, and kissed the top of it. "Lead the way, m'lady." 

-

"Oh my lord, she really went all out for this one."

Cassie stepped through the portal leading to Capricorn's palace, and gasped. Capricorn's throne room was filled with people, all dressed up in their finery. The room was notably larger than Gemini's, and it was decorated with all manner of wreaths and tinsel. 

"Over here." Ophiuchus laid a hand on Cassie's shoulder and led her through the hordes of people to the ballroom. Gemini grabbed for Ophiuchus' free hand, and her advisors filed in behind her. 

The ballroom was enormous, crowded with people talking and dancing, and the sound of a live orchestra infused the air. A crystal chandelier hung from the ceiling, and candles were set in large, ornate candelabras. Through the windows, Cassie could see huge mountains in the distance, their peaks topped with pure white snow. 

"Wow." Cassie took a few steps, disoriented by the vastness of it all. 

"Right, what do we do now?" Gemini asked, smoothing down her dress. 

Pegasus pointed towards a lone figure standing near one of the dining tables. She was wearing a simple black dress with a white fur boa around her neck. "Now, we say hello to our host."

Gemini sighed, but resolutely began marching in Capricorn's direction. The rest of them followed.

"Hello, Capricorn," Gemini said, sinking into a curtsy. The others followed suit, and so Cassie awkwardly copied them. 

Capricorn nodded towards them. "As you were. Hello, Gemini. Pegasus. Columba, Cygnus. And..." She looked towards Cassie. "Cassie. I don't believe we've had a chance to properly meet." 

"It's lovely to meet you, ma'am." Cassie clasped her hands together nervously. "You have a beautiful palace."

Capricorn nodded again. She seemed so much more serious than Cassie's own Capricorn, who always had a sly remark or a clever joke to say. 

"Capri!" A voice shouted, jolting Cassie out of her thoughts. "There you are!" 

A woman in a pale pink dress was running up to them, as fast as her long dress could allow. One man with dark blue hair, wearing an olive green suit, and glasses was chasing after her. A woman wearing a black halter dress and a blindfold ambled after them, her sleek black hair and wings swinging behind her. Cassie recognized the first woman as Taurus. 

"Ah, hello, love." Capricorn held out her arms and Taurus rushed into them, pressing a small kiss to her wife's cheek.

"Ew, couples." Gemini made a face, and got gently slapped by Ophiuchus for her troubles. 

"Your Highness, might I suggest not running around in a long dress?" The blue haired man asked, having caught up. "These silks are nigh irreplaceable." 

"Hi, Gemini and co!" Taurus said cheerfully, ignoring the man. This one behaved much more like her own Taurus. "And—oh, hi Cassie!" She held her hand out for Cassie to shake, and Cassie shook it. She waved her hand at the man. "This is Pavo, my advisor." 

The man bowed, and a bright green peacock tail flared up behind him. "Pavo, advisor of the Kingdom of Tauros." His voice was overly polite, which Cassie found a bit suspicious. She didn't miss how Pegasus shot him a scathing glare and then quickly turned away. 

"I need a drink," Pegasus muttered, walking off. Pavo squinted at her, scoffed, and turned away in the opposite direction.

"This is Corvus," Capricorn said as the woman in black walked up to them, breaking the awkward silence. "My own advisor." 

Corvus curtsied, and Cassie noticed that her blindfold was dark mesh. The woman's eyes, through the blindfold, looked a faint, pale gray. Cassie thought back to her own Corvus, who was Virgo's companion, not Capricorn's. He was significantly less stiff in posture, and had a crow's head as a head and crow's wings as arms. 

"At your service," Corvus said, her voice soft and melodic. Columba and Cygnus squealed and hurried forward, grabbing the woman's hands and dragging her away excitedly. 

Capricorn shook her head in amusement. "Young love." 

“We were like that once as well.” Taurus laid her head against Capricorn’s shoulder. “Remember?”

“Seems like so long ago,” Capricorn said, leaning into Taurus’ touch. 

A servant walked up to the group with a platter of drinks. “Champagne?” They asked, holding them out.

They looked noticeably different than the Zodiacs and constellations Cassie had already seen. Their skin was white and slightly translucent, and their hair was wispy and gold. Their sclera was black, and their iris was dark green. 

The older women each took a glass, raising them in a toast before drinking.

“Who was that?” Cassie asked, addressing Capricorn. “They look different from the constellations and Zodiacs I’ve seen.”

Capricorn nodded. “A star spirit. Mortal spirits who have reincarnated into this world. They're different from Zodiacs and constellations because when they die, they will reincarnate back into the mortal world. A beautiful process of life.”

“They look different based on which Zodiac rules over them. That one is a Capricorn,” Gemini added. “Judging by the combination of skin, hair, and eye colors.”

Cassie studied Ophiuchus for a bit. She had snow white skin, snakeskin stippling the left half of her face, and her pupils were slanted like that of a snake’s. She looked distinctly more animal-like. Could she be a star spirit that had somehow gained constellation status?

“Hey, Ophiuchus?” Cassie asked, looking up at the woman. “Are you a star spirit?”

check out @sweet-star-cookie's starglass zodiac lore if you liked this!! questions about my lore are greatly appreciated!!

[lovelylogans]

the parent trap

CHAPTER FOUR: riposte

The boys come to blows. (With words and stitching.)

The boys come to blows. (With words and stitching.)

⁂

The news of the Pine vs. Maple poker match sweeps through the camp like wildfire.

When Roman walks into breakfast that morning, his back is patted, his hand is high-fived, and his hair is ruffled by the seeming legions of boys who had lost their poker matches against the scourge of the Pine cabin. 

His batch of heroism in dispensing back Maple, Sequoia, and Catalpa’s belongings back to them has made any semblance of popularity he’d had before positively skyrocket.

It’s a bit overwhelming, to be quite honest, but it’s also nice. 

Boys jockey to sit beside or across from him at breakfast; they fetch him the finest of Walden’s breakfast offerings; they ask him to tell the story of how he’d won the poker match and how he got so good at poker anyway.

However, once the people who wandered over to compliment him who weren’t at the cabin the night before, laid eyes on his face, then did a double take between the Pine and Maple tables (Remus, Roman notes with some mixture of amusement and slight guilt from his cabinmates stealing his clothes, looks a bit grumpy from not having slept too much before).

But once the information that the poker showdown was between the inexplicably identical boys is chucked into the rumor mill? If Roman was sick of talking about how he has no idea of how they looked so alike before…

“Wait,” any person who comes to this new realization says, “are you…?”

“No,” Roman says sharply. “I’ve never met him before camp.” 

“Are you cousins?” asks a young, wide-eyed delegate from the Elm cabin asks during morning announcements.

“I don’t have any American cousins.” Roman sighs, returning his attention to Marvin Sr.

Even a fifteen-year-old boy from Cypress asks as Maple moves toward the lake for morning activities—usually, the over-fourteens don’t bother with the under-thirteens, Asher tells him in an undertone, so this news spreading so wide is a big deal.

“I think it’s just a freak coincidence,” Roman says, trying his very best to come across cool.

“Huh,” the fifteen-year-old grunts, then, “Well, I heard it was a good game, anyway. We’ll let you know if we need a child prodigy to empty out Hickory, huh?”

Roman’s eyebrows jump up his forehead; Hickory was one of the two oldest cabins, home to the seventeen- and eighteen-year-olds usually in their last year of camp unless they decided to apply to be a counselor.

“Er, yeah!” Roman says. “Let me know. Whenever.”

“Hickory!” Asher hisses into Roman’s ear as the fifteen-year-old makes their way back to their own kayak.

“I know!”

⁂

The pool at Camp Walden was a highly prized activity location.

The older campers—trusted earlier to take their schedules in their own hands—tended to lounge around the pool most days, splashing around in the shallows or napping on the benches or hogging the diving boards to do fancy dives and cannonballs and backflips.

But today? Today is Pine’s time to shine.

It’s a glorious day to be in the cool pool; the sun beats down on them from the perfect blue sky with no option to hide behind any sort of cloud. There’s not even the little wispy ones gathering up above—perfectly clear.

Perfectly hot. 

And perfect for swimming.

Remus has an excellent time cavorting with the rest of his cabin, yelling and shouting and getting into splash fights and getting scolded by the lifeguard on duty. 

They play mermaids—Remus’s tail is lime green and he has superpowers—and flip their hair into their best imitations of George Washington.

They dive down to see who can touch the bottom of the pool and come back quickest, who can hold their breath the longest, who can throw pennies into the pool the best and who can collect the most scattered change.

They clamber onto each other’s shoulders and play Chicken and have splash fights and they wrestle each other into the water.

It’s perfect.

Right up until Maple Cabin strolls by with his dorky clone.

“Ugh,” Remus mutters, and he pulls himself up out of the water.

“Hey, James!” He shouts. “Come back for a repeat performance, have you?”

“Repeat performance?” James says, baffled, but it’s too late; Remus has already taken two large steps back, and he begins to sprint.

“CANNONBALL!” Remus bellows, and he launches himself into the pool, curling into as tight a ball as he can, per the Remus Parker Cannonball Protocol. 

It perfect, he can tell from the instant he hits the water, hearing the starts of James’s screech even as he gets more deeply submerged in the water; he surfaces and beholds.

James is just about as soaked as he is, gaping at Parker.

“You—!”

Words seem to fail him; James dips his foot in the pool, kicks a might splash in Remus’s direction, and then storms off with his wet shoes and socks, leaving little trails of chlorinated water as he goes.

Remus snickers as he dives deeper into the water.

⁂

Okay, so, Remus is technically keeping his promise to his Pa. He isn’t exploding anything, which was the main thing.

….he is enacting some destruction.

Just a little. Just a little destruction—!

Remus ducks his head and refocuses on his work, haphazardly tugging needle and thread.

He’s not pissed about jumping in the lake naked; he wouldn’t have dished it out if he couldn’t take it, after all. It was actually pretty fun, if he’s being honest; Remus can see why adults are so keen on skinny dipping now.

But stealing his clothes? That was a surprisingly low blow from his stuck-up prick evil clone. 

So if his evil clone and his cabinmates didn’t want him wearing clothes? Fine. Then they couldn’t either.

Remus mutters to himself and occasionally cackles as he keeps working, with a needle and thread snuck out from the evil clone’s supplies.

⁂

“Thanks for covering for me,” Roman mutters to Monroe as he slips into line at the mess hall.

“No prob,” Monroe says, casual. “Do anything fun?”

Roman considers it.

“It has the potential for fun,” he says, his hand straying to the scrap piece of sandpaper in his pocket. “I dunno if we’ll see the results, but he’ll certainly experience them.”

“That’s what I like to hear!” Monroe declares, pounding Roman on the back. 

Roman manages not to drop his tray, laughs weekly, and quickly reaches to pick out the best segment of lasagna that’s left for him to eat. 

He gets together his dinner—lasagna, garlic bread, caesar salad—and moves to the table, avoiding the eyes of their counselor.

Not that his counselor is likely to care much anyway. It kind of seems like this crop of counselors are more concerned with recreating their own camp days rather than actually guiding the children through camp.

That serves Roman just fine.

“What’d you even do, anyway?” Asher whispers to him.

Roman looks back and forth to ensure they haven’t been heard.

“Sanded down his shoes,” he says quietly. “So now he’ll slip and fall anywhere he goes.”

Asher snorts, quickly burying any laughter into drinking his Gatorade. 

“Dunno if I’ve ever heard that one before!”

“It’s not very common,” Roman says. “A small revenge, I know, I’ll have to plot for him splashing me today…”

“Ugh, yes,” Asher says, too loud, and Roman shushes him.

“Later!”

“Later,” Asher says. “Yeah, duh, later. Uh—so what did you think about the, uh… tennis matches today?”

“I don’t know much about tennis,” Roman says. “I know about the fashion at Wimbledon, mostly. Erm,” he says, because Asher’s giving him an odd look, “why don’t you tell me about it?”

And so Roman is treated to a long tirade about the finer points of tennis: the game rules, the set rules, the point system, the famous players that Asher is pulling for (Roman only knows about Venus and Serena Williams, who Dad had loudly rooted for during the Battle of the Sexes earlier this year, Asher’s listing off all men) and the finer points of rackets.

Roman had had no idea that Asher was so passionate about tennis, but it’s certainly good cover for the fact that Roman came into dinner late. They’d probably think he was busy researching tennis trivia.

But then Asher falls quiet; Roman blinks, before he turns.

Remus Parker, returned from dumping his plates to be washed, is standing before Maple table, surveying them all with a wild, disconcerting grin on his face.

He looks… very pleased, Roman can’t help but note. Why does he look so pleased?

“Nice duds, Monroe,” he says mildly.

Monroe blinks; he’s wearing a Camp Walden branded t-shirt, one that all of them had gotten upon entry at camp.

“...thanks,”

“Nice duds for all of you,” Remus says. 

“What are you getting at, Parker,” Asher snaps.

“Oh, nothing, nothing,” Remus says. “It’s just that you all have such nice clothes, and I’ve recently found that I’m missing some of mine.”

Roman stares at his plate.

“What’s that to use?” Monroe says. “So you managed to misplace your clothes, why should we care?”

“Oh, but you should care,” Remus says. “So easy to misplace clothes at camp. Lose them. Get messy.”

An uncomfortable pall settles over the table. 

“Better check on your clothes,” Remus Parker says, and he cackles as he leaves the Maple table.

Everyone exchanges nervous looks.

⁂

Maple falls silent at the sight before them.

The cabin is in chaos.

Everyone’s trunks are torn open, their belongings flung about absolutely scattershot; mostly just clothes. Clothes hanging from the bunk beds, clothes stuffed into their cubby boxes, clothes tossed up onto the ceiling fan and under beds and over blankets and just everywhere. T-shirts, shorts, jeans, shoes—it’s nuts.

Roman, frowning, reaches forward and picks up the most forefront item—a plaid blanket that he thinks belongs to Monroe.

He shakes it out. And, like a war banner, a message is emblazoned upon it.

REMUS WUZ HERE, it reads in block letters (shoddy stitching, Roman notices absently) above a jagged… something?

“Is that a spider?” Monroe says.

“A kraken?” Asher offers uncertainly.

“It’s an octopus, I think?” Roman says uncertainly, tilting the shirt to the side. 

There’s a thoughtful pause.

“...Why an octopus, though?”

“No idea,” Roman says. “Why a spider, or a kraken?”

Monroe scoffs, shaking his head. “There’s something seriously wrong with that kid.”

“I’m not disagreeing with you,” Roman says and readies his needle, thread, and scissors. “All right, if he got to your clothes, drop ‘em here! No one picks on Maple!”

A cheer goes up from his cabin mates.

“We’ve got this!” Roman cries back.

It’s a good deal less cinematic when the answering cry is a load of what is essentially laundry is dropped onto his bunk.

“While I’m fixing this,” Roman says, ideas turning slowly in his mind, “Let’s talk revenge.”

previous chapter | masterpost | next chapter

[tennessoui]

Four word prompts: “I’m not wearing that.”

this takes place in the KUWSK universe! (but can be read alone) The twins are about 9 here, and they've just adopted baby!Rey!

(900 words)

“No way,” Anakin says immediately. “Absolutely not.”

“The twins picked it out,” Obi-Wan replies. “You’d break their tiny baby hearts if you said no.”

“I want a divorce.”

“Haha,” his husband says. “Come on, get changed. It’s four in the afternoon, and you know I hate taking the kids trick-or-treating after it gets dark.”

Anakin is torn between a rush of fondness for his husband and a swell of great hatred. Well, alright. Not hatred. Perhaps annoyance at most.

As if he can feel through the air how Anakin is feeling, Obi-Wan hums and plays with the open collar of his own white shirt. “You’re the one that wanted to let the kids choose what they wanted the family costume to be for Halloween this year,” he points out. “I believe this is strictly your fault.”

“I believe that’s bullshit,” Anakin mutters, turning back to stare at the monstrosity lying on the bed. “Obi-Wan, I’m not wearing that.”

“You know,” Obi-Wan taps his finger on his lips and ties the red sash around his waist. “I was thinking just the other day: how many Halloweens do we have left to dress as a family? Luke and Leia are already nine. I’ve never studied the cut off date for Halloween, but I assume it’s coming up. And, well. Rey will give us another few years—” the baby on her cot exclaims at hearing her name, and cries for Obi-Wan’s attention.

Obi-Wan, absolutely besotted beyond all rationality with their new daughter, sweeps away from the mirror to pick the baby up.

“Aren’t you just the most evil and diabolical Ursula in the entire sea?” Obi-Wan asks the baby, who squeals and flaps her chubby arms like they’re really tentacles. Obi-Wan croons and starts to hum a version of “Under the Sea”, one that causes Rey to cackle and gurgle from the safety of her father’s arms.

It’s mind-numbingly adorable, the way his husband treats their daughter, how absolutely smitten he is with her every move and noise. Watching it almost makes up for the purple bikini top on his bed and the green skirt.

“Why can’t there be two Prince Erics?” Anakin asks, only a little desperately.

“It’s like you haven’t even seen the movie,” Obi-Wan replies, still making faces at Rey. “Put it on now, quickly, we’ll be late.”

Anakin has half the mind to bite out that one can’t exactly be late to fucking Trick-Or-Treat, but he can’t bring himself to muster up the right amount of vitriol. He thinks it’s adorable, the way Obi-Wan reads articles about Halloween violence and car accidents the entire month leading up to the holiday. The fact that he lets the kids go at all without holding his hand the entire time is a testament to how much he’s grown since they were five.

But still. 

“I believe you brought this on yourself, Anakin love,” Obi-Wan tells him, carefully switching Rey to one arm so he can go back to primping in front of the mirror. He’s tried to style his hair in the swoop that Prince Eric from The Little Mermaid is known for. Anakin can’t decide if it’s devastatingly effective or if he just thinks everything that Obi-Wan does is devastating.

“How the fuck—”

“Careful now,” Obi-Wan warns him. “There are baby ears about.”

Baby ears that don’t even understand English, Anakin wants to protest, but he knows it would be useless. He can count on one hand the number of fights he’s won against an Obi-Wan whose protective father instinct has been triggered. “How is it my fault that our kids apparently want me to dress up as Ariel?” 

Obi-Wan shrugs and adjusts his grip on the baby before turning to face him. “You’re the one who’s always singing along to her parts in the movie,” he points out. “They probably thought you would love it.”

“Well, I don’t. You’re the ginger, switch with me. It makes more sense.”

“Fuck that,” Obi-Wan replies. Anakin squawks at the unfairness of it all. “I’m already dressed. And besides, this is what the twins wanted.”

“Why are they the eels?” Anakin asks, shucking off his shirt because he knows a stone wall when he sees one. “Does it say something about our children that they wanted to be the slimy, evil eels instead of the prince and princess?”

“Perhaps that they don’t want to kiss each other,” Obi-Wan points out. Anakin makes a face so full of disgust that he hopes Obi-Wan can feel it aimed at him even with his back turned. “Think of it this way,” his husband says bracingly. “They wanted Rey to be Ursula, which can only mean they’re really and truly accepting her into the family. And they wanted us to be Ariel and Eric, which means that when they look at us together, they see the best representation of true love they’ve ever seen before.”

He leans over and kisses Anakin’s cheek. Weak as he is, Anakin cannot help but lean into the press of his husband’s lips on his skin. Rey giggles and claps her hands together, happy to be somewhat included.

“Fine,” Anakin relents because Obi-Wan’s reasons were so sweet and so good and Anakin is so weak with love for his husband. “But does it have to be the purple bikini top?”

[grifanias]

Okay, this is my first post, so I'm not waiting for anything (as if something will happen). My English is very bad. I'm sorry.…

A guy with pale blue hair was slicing through the air with his wings. It was already beginning to dawn.

* thoughts of Uranus*

"And like me, a Harpy, so from places where mermaids have not lived since they were born, I managed to catch on to one of these aquatic ones... if someone finds out… it's not going to end well and I'll be to blame for it... I can already see how they remember me as (Uranus is a Harpy who believed a Mermaid and died because of his stupidity) okay, he doesn't seem to be innately calm down everything will be fine... so here's a cluster of rocks sticking out of the water... here we kind of met for the last time once..."

With these thoughts, the blue-haired man landed and sat waiting for his new acquaintance.

"Maybe it's not too late and..."

- Hello)- said the guy who was looking out of the water leaning on his elbows and on the rock.

"Hello, Neptune," the winged one replied calmly.

After these words, the siren surfaced and sat down on the rock on which Uranus was sitting.

- You still came) - Neptune smiled, tilting his head, he propped it up with his hands.

- Yes, I arrived… As you can see, the harpy said.

- Since you're here, can I ask you a few questions? Then you can ask me a couple of questions) - said the Mermaid enthusiastically.

- Come on... - Uranus said a little warily.

- Great, so that's it… How far do you live from Syuda? And is it possible to swim to it?Neptune asked.

"Did he seriously decide to ask that?"

- about an hour of flight ... and there are no rivers flowing deep enough to swim to it ... - the harpy calmly replied.

- Oh.. Oh well) You're next..." said Neptune, smiling.

- Why do you ask that?Uranus said.

- I'm interested) and besides, I have not met harpies with such wings)- Neptune said -they are usually narrow and not as sweeping as yours ... and of such a color) -Neptune smiled sparkly.

"So you've talked to Harpies before?"- decides to clarify the Uranium.

- Yes! - nodded Neptune.- only they live near the shore... I communicate with them sometimes.Neptune quieted down a bit towards the end.- so that's my next question) Can I touch your wings?Neptune asked enthusiastically.

"Is he asking to touch my wings? Does he not know at all what this means for the Harpy? This is almost the highest form of trust! Our wings may look strong, but if the flight wings are torn out, I'll stay here and just won't be able to fly..."

- Are you afraid? If you want, you can touch my tail and fins first) this is as important a part of the body as wings are for you) - he stretched out his fish tail to Uranus.

"Damn... I wonder if his ladles are like a fish's or more elastic? Or maybe they are soft on the back? So wait, this could end badly... but does he trust me?...was not..."

The harpy decided to touch the siren's tail.

"It is pleasant, moderately elastic and very smooth transparent, it shimmers with different colors like scales"

After that, Uranus reluctantly stretched out the wing closest to the Mermaid. Neptune attacked the harpy's wing with childish enthusiasm, surprisingly he gently stroked and examined it.

- I have considered quite a lot of harpy wings, but I like yours the most so far) - the Mermaid smiled.

Ладно это мой первый пост поэтому ничего не жду(как будто что-то будет).

Парень с нежно голубыми волосами рассекал воздух своими крыльями. Уже начало рассветать.

*мысли Урана*

«И как меня Гарпию, так еще из мест где русалки от родясь не жили, угораздило зацепиться за одного из этих водных… если кто-то узнает… это ничем хорошим не кончиться и виноват в этом буду я… я уже вижу как меня вспоминают как (Уран-Гарпия что поверила Русалу и умерла из-за своей тупости) ладно он вроде не настроен врождеьно успокойся все будет хорошо… так вот скопление скал выпирающих из воды… тут мы вроде как встретились в последний раз…»

С этими мыслями голубоволосый приземлился и сидя ожидал своего нового знакомого.

«Может еще не поздно и…»

-Привет)-сказал парень что выглядывал из воды опираясь локти и на скалу.

-Привет, Нептун-спокойно ответил крылатый.

После этих слов сирена вынырнул и присел на скалу на которой сидел Уран.

-Ты все таки пришел)-улыбался Нептун наклонив голову, он подпирал ее руками.

-Да прилетел… Как видишь-сказала гарпия.

-Раз уж ты здесь я задам тебе пару вопросов? После ты сможешь задать мне парочку)-сказал Русал воодушевлено.

-Давай…-немного насторожено сказал Уран.

-Отлично, так вот… Как далеко ты от сюды живешь? И можно ли до него доплыть?-спросил Нептун.

«Он серьезно решил спросить это?»

-где-то час полета… и нет до него не текут достаточно глубокие реки для того что бы доплыть…-спокойно ответила гарпия.

-Оу.. ну хорошо) ты следующий…-сказал Нептун улыбаясь.

-Почему ты это спрашиваешь?-сказал Уран.

-Мне интересно) да и к тому же я не встречал гарпий с такими крыльями)-сказал Нептун-обычно они узкие и не такие размашистые, как у тебя… да и такого цвета)-искринк улыбался Нептун.

-То есть ты раньше общался с Гарпиями?-решит уточнить Уран.

-Да!-кивнул Нептун.-только они живут Радом с берегом… я общаюсь с ними иногда.-немного притих Нептун ближе к концу.-так вот мой следующий вопрос) Можно потрогать твои крылья?-воодушевлено спросил Нептун.

«Он просит потрогать мои крылья? Он совсем не знает что это значит для Гарпии? Это чуть ли не высшая форма доверия! Наши крылья пускай и выглядят крепкими но если вырвет маховые крылья, я останусь тут и просто не смогу улитеть…»

-Ты боишься? Если хочешь можешь сперва потрагать мой хвост и плавники) это такая же важная часть тела как для тебя крылья)-протянул свой рыбий хвост урану.

«Черт… интересно его половники как у рыбки или более упругие? А может на оборот мягкие? Так стоп это может плохо кончиться… но он мне доверяет?… была не была..»

Гарпия все решил потрогать хвост сирены.

«Он приятный в меру упругий и очень гладкий прозрачный, он переливается разными цветами как и чешуйки»

После Уран нехотя протянул ближнее к Русалу крыло. Нептун с детским задором накинулся на крыло гарпии, на удивление он аккуратно его гладил и разглядывал.

-Я рассматривал достаточно много крыльев гарпий, но твои мне нравятся пока больше всех)-улыбнулся Русал.