#where I sit in the grass under the sun and read and swim all the time

[idsb]

How funny it is that 3 weeks ago all I wanted to do was leave this place and now that I’ve set everything in motion to make that happen, I can’t think of anything worse than having to prematurely leave it behind 🥴

[blingblong55]

From Eden -Simon 'Ghost' Riley

A/N: in my delusional mind, Simon and Reader are talking to each other in this song

photo credit: @gamergirlbonestaskforce141riot

--- GN!Reader, life and death au, death!Ghost, Life!reader, fluff?, platonic!relationship, --- A/N: inspired by an bot on C.ai(@/maskedmenenthusiast), and read the @yawnderu version of this concept. 

You were sitting on the mothy grass, your angelic features overlooking the lakes where the calm koi fish swim. The day was peaceful, it always was for you. Humans, are so simple and easy, if only it was all the same for you. Years since the creation of planet Earth, you were created to form life. You, alongside your friend Simon, also known as Ghost have roamed the Earth, watching its beginning and its current moment in time. He and you have accompanied the other through it all. From the first humans to the latest ones. Simon was created to take away those you created with love. The first time he did this, it pained you to see such a soul be taken away but now, you've grown used to it, it's part of the cycle.

Every day, there is new life, one you so happily watch when creating it. Simon, every day takes away a new or old life, something he's done for so many years. With death comes life and with life comes death. Simon walks through the fog, his scythe strapped to his back, his cloak draped over his body, fitting him so perfectly. He always called you his angel or just life, something that you grew accustomed to. "My angel, what are you doing here?" He sits beside you, the sun shining through making his and your eyes glimmer. He always called you his angel or just life, something that you grew accustomed to. You sigh, "It's peaceful here." You quietly respond.

This was your place, no human had ever stepped foot in this place. No one knows it exists because well, it is not a real place on Earth, this place was created for Simon and you to rest in. People always assume he is some evil man for what he does but no one knows him like you do, no one ever will. He looks ahead, his icy skin warming with the sun. The birds chirp and he chuckles, it was always that damn blue bird that sang to him. A kind reminder of you. According to others, he enjoyed what he did but in reality, he was tired of it, it drained him because he knew how much every human you ever created was loved by you. 

Being your friend, he couldn't do it but it was his role and every day, at this time, he would come to you. His head hangs low as he watches all the souls swim through his veins. He looks over at you, your skin so soft and beautiful. You were so innocent and kind, so majestic and here he was, ruining all that beauty with his darkness. His scythe is laid on the floor as he looks away from you. "Do you ever think one day we'll be replaced?" Doubt clouded his mind, Ghost was one thing, the reaper of souls, Simon was a man, a simple man who always had doubts and fears and...well loneliness when you weren't around. 

"Don't think so, we've been the ones created for this specific job. Would be mean if they did take us out of it though," your head now rested in his. His hand found its way to you. You were the sun and he the moon. You shined in the day and he brightened up the night. With others who were tasked with some small roles on this planet, he was cold, mean and harsh but with you, his oldest and only friend, he was just Simon. He smiled and nudged you when you made a joke, wiped your tears when you were sad, hurt those who made you sad and like moth to flame, he came to you for it all. 

In the dark cold nights when he took souls away, that smile you carried, that little nose crinkle, that is what brought him to sit down under a willow tree with you. Your hands light up the grass, you are magical. "You know, I wouldn't be surprised if your deer friend came back again to pester me," he comments and you chuckle. That cute little fallow deer, with its wet nose, poked at Simons's scythe and then looked at him with curious eyes. "He likes to be around you, can you blame him?" Your hand caresses Simons. "I can indeed, because every day he follows me around, I have important things to do, my angel." His hand gripped yours with so much delicateness. "Liar, I know you follow me into the city," you look up at him. "I...well I do that because what if you accidentally make a monster like last time and I have to kill it?"

"That was a mistake and I did it because you told me that scary story the night before-" "Excuses. Admit it my angel, you just wanted a reason to have me near you all day," his hands, hesitating to caress your precious face. He was partially right. "You know, I won't entertain this nonsense," you look away and he smirks. His angel, oh how he adored it when you'd look away and he could look down at you and smile, his eyes filled with love. His chin rested on your head. 

It had been long since you were in charge of creating every single life on Earth and now that you oversee the work, you have time to be here with him. His situation was the same, he wasn't gone all day and night reaping souls away, he overlooked the work and that was it. "Are you cold?" His voice is softer than usual. "mhm," you nod your head just a little. His black cloak now keeping both of you warm. The silence, how sweet this was when the world outside of this safe bubble was so chaotic. 

"I've always admired your work," Simon tells you, his expression unchanging as he speaks. "The way you create those souls, I swear I can see their essence being infused into you. Such beauty in the work you do." It was like a memory. The first time he saw you create life, how glorious you appeared before him. "I always wondered how you viewed life before it's taken away." His hands caress your arms. "I think I should be the one asking you that question since you are the one to take their souls." 

"Hmph, a fair point." Simon's hands are so warm against your skin, it was like you melted the other with this amount of skin contact. "I've had centuries to observe, and the more time I had, the more I realized how fleeting it truly is. It is a beautiful gift you give, even if I have to take it eventually. But as they die, they become one with me, just like you have become a part of them. Even so, they do not cease to exist, you know that." In some sad but captivating way, you creating life and him taking it is a way of him and you, being one with the other. 

"I don't know what this feeling is but, I like it when you make me feel it," his confession whispered. The sun setting over the horizon. Your hand over his again, "Ghost-" "No, we don't do that, I'm Simon to you, my angel." Your lips curved to a smile. 

---

"Death, meet Life. Life, meet Death. You two will now be one, work with the other to make this civilization work properly. From this day forward, your jobs complement the other for however long this planet shall live." This is when Life and Death met when they shook hands and smiled at each other as they appeared before a small paradise. Their forever home, where they create and end lives. From this day forward, you're not one without the other. 

As time progressed, you and he roamed the plant alone, slowly populating it and controlling it however you could. One day, as you sit underneath his black feathered wing, he looks over at you. "Call me Simon, I'm Simon," his gaze back to the desert. "Simon and...what shall you call me?" You look over at him. "R/N but I think My Angel is way better, so I'll stick with it." He was always so cold and in this moment you swear he maybe hung out with one too many angels when he visited the gods. "Only you'll call me Simon, no other, understood, Life?" He looks over at you again. "Don't worry, Simon, you're name stays with me." He looks away, a small smile on his lips. 

---

In the beginning, if you told him that he'd be so close to you, to know you so well, he would have laughed and drank more of his wine. Now, he smiles proudly to know you are here, with him. From your lips, a yawn escapes. "Tired already, my angel?" His hands play with your hair. You nod, "It's been so long since I slept." His arms, pulling you closer, your head resting on his lap, his wings keeping you warm. His touch is soothing as you finally close your eyes. "Rest, my angel," Simon caresses your face, you smile and feel warm underneath his hand. "Good night, Simon." "Good night, my angel," his gaze back to the sunset. That bluebird, singing a melody for all millennia and maybe even the next one. That deer, coming only when it knows you are resting. Its nose touches Simon's scythe, "Aren't you something," he chuckles and pets it. Its eyes close and it rests against Simon. 

No one will ever know, that even the Grim Reaper himself needs moments like this. For he isn't some stone-hearted man, he cares enough to walk you to the afterlife and in this moment, as he holds you in his arms, awaiting another day of guiding souls, this is when he finds peace. He always believed, at the beginning at least, that he was meant to be evil but when he holds Life in his arms like there is no other remedy for his ache, that is when he knows he is too a good man. The souls attached to his skin, all keeping him alive in many ways and you, keeping him a little closer to happiness. 

They say Life is with you, even in your darkest nights and Death is there, for when your soul feels alone. Life creates you, Death guides you. 

Life and Death, are forever welded to each other. To roam Earth and know that out there the other one is still there. To live an eternity and know Death is always lurking in the shadows for you. To know without Life, Death is no one and without Death, Life is no one. Simon and R/N, forever one, for good or worse. 

Tags:

@warenai @liyanahelena @gamergirlbonestaskforce141riot @scarletdfox @actuallyhiswife @kit-kats06 @@goldenmclaren @eicee @ilove-masked-men @iruzias @frazie99 @spicypicklesoh @tiredmetalenthusiast @jinxxangel13 @enarien

[skelly-words]

Mermaid Levi <3

I loooooove mermaids (idc that he's technically a merman stfu). This is an x reader, but it's not very romantic.

Also, he has no name in this, so feel free to read it as your fav XD

tags- yandere and monsterish, no smut, drowning, idk what else to tag, levi's a fucking mermaid bro, fear, this could be mild horror idk, i don't think reader has gender yet

wc- 2.4k

Tourists riddle the Pacific coast. Beaches are so crowded in the summertime that it’s unpleasant to go. Most families pop an umbrella up in the sand and camp out all day, and the crowd only begins to thin when the sun dips under the watery horizon. 

But you like to swim alone, turning left– away from the coast and down a dirt road. The back wheels of your car kick up a small cloud of dust in your wake. You bounce up and down in your seat as you navigate the bumps and divots until you can hear the bumper cables in the trunk rattling. The sidestreet isn’t meant to be taken, so it’s seldom maintained. You can tell where it has flooded in the winter, cracking on the surface like a salt flat, and cutting deep grooves across the road’s width.

About a mile down, the road comes to a dead end with a miniscule cul-de-sac to provide parking. The packed earth stretches out to become grass and the sandy shore of a shimmer lagoon. The water passes between green and blue hues as it reflects the splendid sky. But it looks more of a murky emerald in the shade. Most of the lagoon is consumed by reeds and cattails, clustered in the shallow mouth where it feeds into the ocean and up against the waterline. In fact the only break in the wall vegetation is the gap made by a rickety pier.

Algae grows from the pilings, making the legs fuzzy and green below the waterline. The boards are sturdy enough, groaning but not bending as you walk out to deeper water, blue beach bag in hand. The sun is so bright, glaring from above and bouncing light off the sunbleached wood. Squinting over the water, you see that it’s empty.

You like that nobody else comes to this watering hole. It’s only deep enough to swim off the pier’s end, where a neglected kayak tugs at the rope tying it to the endmost piling. It plummets down into a trench of deep blue. A perfect circle with no apparent bottom. The unsettling nature makes most people stick to the beaches. There is always a rumor or two of someone drowning in it, but nobody ever seems to know them. The kayak doesn’t belong to anybody specific anymore, and algae sprouts from the underside. Yet, despite it all, the lagoon is the only place you can feel comfortable, never hesitating to strip down to your swimsuit and smooth sunscreen down your skin. 

Because nobody comes here. You sit on your pile of discarded clothes, dangling your toes in the water. It feels warm, just cooler than the dry summer air. Fall is on the way, but it’s still hot as fuck until sunset. Sweat runs down your spine, tediously over the bump of each vertebrae. You stand up on the pier, toes curling over the edge to brace yourself. 

The water waves. It welcomes you down. You take a breath and push off the plank, head first and with your eyes shut tight. Everything is silent beneath the surface. You can no longer hear the grass rubbing together, wind between wheezing trees. Time seems to stand still while you are submerged, and springs back to life as you pop up to gasp for air.

You swim laps. Around and ‘round the blue hole with your watery shadow following on the mushy bed. One, two, three, four, breathe; you count strokes and inhale just enough for the next four scoops of your arms. The splashing water kicks up behind you sounds like music. Rhythmic and meditative to keep time with your steady count. It’s a familiar song. At a certain point you didn’t need the mental count anymore and your trained muscles do all the work for you. Until your chest hurts and arms burn beneath the mild water. 

You float on your back, gently kicking your legs until you bob dully around the center of the scenic pool. The sun is beaming and your eyes are closed as you relax on your back. To drift in circles with the fluid current. Slight tugs back and forth as the coastal breeze picks over the surface. When it becomes too hot, you swim back to the pier and dry off. It’s not until then that you notice another swimmer. His head is barely above water, facing away from you in the center of the lagoon.

He looks left and right, then turns around to spot you standing at the end of the pier. You don’t know how you hadn’t seen him earlier, swimming in that exact spot just minutes ago. His hair is soaked and plastered to his forehead. The color shines an iridescent, oil-slick purple. But you can’t make out the details of his face until he comes closer, treading water and approaching slowly. Careful not to spook you.

“This yours?” He asks when you’re within earshot. He speaks slowly and the enunciation flicks stiffly off his tongue. 

You squint at his fingers, held just above his eyeline with a glint of silver pinched between them. The stud on your left ear is missing. You silently feel for it before answering.

“I think so.” You kneel down at the pier, then flat on your stomach to reach it. Palm up, skimming the water’s black surface. The shade cast by the creaky boards makes the lagoon look so dark, a stark comparison to the sparkling water under the sun. “Is it shaped like the moon?”

He nods eagerly and comes just close enough to press the stud into your hand.

“Thank you. How’d you even find this?” A disbelieving laugh passes through your lips.

He doesn’t say anything and just smiles at you sheepishly, head tilted down and demure. You take the time to study his face. The bump in his nose, lashes fanned across his cheeks when he squints to look up at you. Strange purple flecks mark a trail down his neck, seemingly embedded in the skin.

“I never saw you get in the water.”

He blushes deeply when you speak directly to him again, but manages to reply this time. “I came from the other side,” he says. Gestures vaguely behind himself and continues, “and you were swimming.”

You scan the rest of the lagoon, but there’s no other break in the dense cattails besides the pier you’re stretched out on.

“I should’ve taken them off before getting in the water. They’re an heirloom.” You take off the other stud and slip them both into the pocket of your discarded jeans.

“Very pretty ‘n shiny.” His eyes gently track the movement of your hands and he inches just a little bit closer. Droplets running off his shoulders as he treads water in the shade of the pier

“That’s why I noticed it.” His nervous gaze quickly flicks away from you. “It would be a shame if the lagoon swallowed it up.” 

His voice has a mesmerizing quality to it now that you’re given a chance to listen. “People lose an incredible amount of objects, like you wouldn’t believe.” It lilts into something enchanting and melancholic, almost enough to bring tears to your eyes. “Anyway, you looked like you were leaving, so I’ll let you go.”

“No, I was just gonna get back in the water.” You sit up and kick your legs over the splintering edge.

“Wait, don't-”

But you’re already plummeting into the water, barely giving yourself time to inhale before you’ve slipped under. It’s like your senses snap back when the cold water engulfs you, eyes widening as you sink. Bits of algae and sediment hover in your vision, appearing to drift upwards while your body plummets down. And through the layers of gloom, the glittering tail of a massive fish beats back and forth. A fish? Or not, as you see the strange boy dip below the surface. Scales sparsely trail down his sides to encircle his waist and legs. They’re chatoyant, milky-purple, and a few stray higher to decorate his chest and neck. You’re too busy cataloging his abnormalities to notice that he’s reaching for you.

You curse your lack of attentiveness as your oxygen begins to run out. He doesn’t pull you back to the surface. His arm hooks around your waist and drags you towards the soggy waterbed. Your abandoned beach bag is the only proof you were ever there.

Bubbles leave an effervescent trail as you scream. Your nails tear at his bicep in an attempt to loosen his grip, then into craggy ground for something to hold onto. He’s headed for the trench, with your flailing body clutched in a vice-like grip as he dives over the ledge. It’s a steep drop-off. A perfectly round hole-punch shooting straight down. The blue hole is bottomless, approaching black as the dappled beams of light dim above you. Your ears throb at the increase in pressure and your oxygen is gone. It’s finally time for you to inhale a lungful of water and close your eyes.

-

“Can yo…ear m…okay?” Everything sounds far away and your chest feels like it’s being crushed. “Plea…your ey…ook at me.”

Water pours from your mouth, dry heaving as you cough so hard your stomach aches. 

“Please, breathe.”

You have no choice but to listen. Your breath rattles like gravel is shaking in your ribcage, and you lapse into another coughing fit. Everything is wet; the slick rock digging into your spine, the dripping stalactites, and the clammy hand drawing shapes on your stomach. It instantly retreats when you speak.

“Where am I?” You say weakly. The sound may not be audible at all, echoing in your panicked head. Your limbs feel paralyzed. Numb and barely tingling as you try to flex your fingers. It’s too dark to see anything besides the distant ceiling covered in subtly glowing lichen. 

“Where am I?” You repeat firmly. There’s still a grating quality to your voice and you can better hear how strained the sound is when it bounces back to you. “I know you’re in here, you fucking freak!” But even the insult comes out broken and wet.

You want to scream when there’s nothing but silence as an answer, feeling the frustration make your hands shake. Nothing but rock walls surrounds you, scaffolding for the moss and algae growing from shallow crags. The flora are the only sources of feeble light, brightening the cave at its jagged edges. You sit up on the limestone somewhere around the center. Drowned in the inky expanse more so than you were under the water.

The sound of lapping waves comes from your left. You stop breathing to listen. He can’t move without making sound. Droplets splash over the rock as he lifts himself from whatever hole you were towed through. Landing on the ground with a smack.

“I’m so sorry.”

You jump when his voice is so clearly beside you. His apology slips like poison into your ears. So you stay still, frozen in your spot  because his voice is that transfixing.

“You’re sorry?” You croak.

“Mhmm, you weren’t supposed to see me.” He sighs. The expression gurgles slightly in his throat, and you can feel it on the back of your neck. “If I let you leave, I would’ve never seen you again.”

You’re so scared, tears welling in the corners of your eyes. Yet, you can’t move or pull away, just feeling him hover. It’s impossible to tell how close he is in the dark space. The best you can do is remain motionless.

“No, I p-promise I won’t. I’ll be back.” You talk quickly and quietly, as your unresponsive tongue tries to stumble through a sentence. “I can’t come b-back if you don’t let me leave.”

He croons softly. Smooth and eurythmic like a whale call as it glances off the walls. “You’re the only person I get to see, and I don’t even know you.” Melancholy spills out of him, soaking each word through. “I just wanted a chance to talk to you.”

You recall beginning to frequent the lagoon last summer. You’ve come dozens of times since then. And you reluctantly start to feel bad for him. An awful tug at your heart, telling you to comfort him and be kind. His beautiful voice becomes more difficult to resist the longer you listen to it.

“I wanna know you, know your name.” He trails tender fingers down your arm, so lightly that goosebumps spring up in a stippled trail.

“So that’s all? Not to kill me and eat me?” You turn to the side, hopefully facing him, though all you can see is darkness.

His hand limply falls away. “N-no, none of that.”

He goes quiet for a minute or two. Drips of water, landing in a nearby pool, count the seconds. It might be night by now. The sky isn’t visible. Not a single crack in the cave ceiling. There isn’t a crossbreeze either. Air so stagnant it gets stuck in your humid lungs. You cough periodically into your elbow.

“But…” He begins again, seeming to pick his words carefully with how slowly he speaks, “Can’t I keep you? Please, since you’re already here.”

His choices make you bristle. Remaining motionless, still, as you realize that your wishes may not matter. The pallid light emitted by the lichen doesn’t illuminate an exit, if one exists. You doubt there’s a way out aside from drowning in an underground tunnel.

“I think you’d better not.” Maybe you can gently convince him. “I-I wouldn’t want to worry my dad. He’s expecting me for dinner”

Again, you’re left waiting for an answer, staring blankly into the shapeless black while he contemplates this fact. Of course you have family waiting for you. He should’ve anticipated this and simply fled instead of snatching you up too. This whole kidnapping is turning out to be a finely complicated mess.

“Yes, but I’d rather not.” He clasps your hand, all pruned up and frozen as you haven’t had the chance to dry. 

You don’t try to take your hand back or get away. There’s not a nearby escape, or weapon to reach for. The damp cave grows colder by the second and you tuck your knees up to your chest. It doesn’t keep you very warm, but it’s the best you can do, dressed in your modest bikini and nothing else. His gelid hands, gently passing yours back and forth between palms, go over each of your digits with the most clinical of care.

When he kisses your knuckles, his lips are cold too.

A/N- should i continue this? lmk <3

[davycoquette]

put the world between us

It’s impossible to discern one bleak parcel of land from the next in this place. You pass cornfield after wheatfield, driving into the blaze of sunset posited at the far edge of the earth. 

How can it be this is the place Shay Ferrick comes from? You look at his scabbed knuckles on the steering wheel, the blue veins on his wrist, his forearm with its own field of coarse dark hair across it. A tiny scratch on the surface like it came from a skipping record’s needle.

Then you skip straight to staring at his face, at how his wiry stubble follows the angle of his jaw. Imperfections register as perfections; even the patchy, shitty shave-job — even the tiny flake of dry skin left after he scraped a blemish off under his nail. His nose seems sweetly short on his face and that makes the corner of your mouth hook halfway into a smile. 

Under his aviator shades, his eyes are the best part of all. You can’t see them just now, but you can picture them crystal clear all the same: they’re dark. Almost black. And they sit under his bushy eyebrows and he gets two distinct wrinkles between those eyebrows right before he grins whenever you’ve just said something funny, and shoot, you wish you could come up with something, now. You make an idiot out of yourself all the time trying. You’re so resolutely in love with this guy — in love! Who knew you’d ever get to feel like this. It’s the sweetest thing you’ve ever felt in your whole life.

“The fuck’re you lookin’ at?” he asks.

“You,” you say, earnest.

He swings a glance your way, and your moonstruck face reflects back at you from either lens of his sunglasses. Then he looks at the road, then back at you, then back at the road.

“Well, quit.”

“Y’know Housman? Alfred Housman?”

His face screws up. “Who?”

“Y’know, Last Poems —”

“No, Shy, I don’t give a shit about that. C’mon, man.”

“I was just thinking about something else he wrote. It went like—”

“No, c’mon. Don’t recite poetry at me. I hate that.”

“Okay.” You sit chewing the inside of your cheek for a beat, then add, “It’s just—”

“Shy,” he says firmly, and your name coming out of his mouth in a hot gale of exasperation makes your heart swim.

“Yeah, okay,” you agree, and grin out the window like a schoolkid with a crush.

For the next hour neither of you speaks, then a severe house juts out of a wheatfield. A windmill turns slowly beside it. At the same time as you’re clearing your throat, Shay confirms, “This is it.”

This is it. This is the place where he grew up. This is the place where he first learned to walk. Where he learned how to read and speak. Where he first built the walls that stand around him, or, no — where he dug the moat anyone who tries to get close is bound to drown in. It’s flat and unending, oppressive. The sky is bleached diluted blue. The sun festers, its fire razing outward, a tiny pinprick in the cloudless vastness. It makes you uneasy, and you love it at once.

A whip of cold, dry air blasts you in the face as soon as you open the car door. You rise and stand on your stiff legs and a little breeze bends the top of the grass. It shimmers like golden water around you. The windmill turns with a metallic shriek. The porch door swings shut.

“Hi, there,” says the tall, thin woman who just has just come outside. Her cheeks are gaunt and her face is long, and her hair is coarse and dark and tied back. She wears old blue jeans with flour handprints on the thighs, and a flannel shirt and house boots. You think she has his dark, soulful eyes, but there is something at once callous and dry about her, and you want to step onto the porch and grab her by a fistful of her shirt and demand, “Did you love him enough?” And, “Why would you live here? Why would you make him live here, in this place?”

What you say is, “Mrs. Ferrick.”

“Hi,” she repeats, barely sparing you a glance.

The smell of biscuits and cigarettes wafts out onto the porch.

“Hey, Mom,” Shay says, and lugs a duffle bag out of the back seat with him. “This is my buddy, Dick.”

You wait for a third, hi, but she ignores that altogether. Instead, she says, “Dad went to go get somethin’ at the store. He’ll be back any time now. You all come in.”

“What store? We’re comin’. Dick, get your bag.”

You open the back door and grab your backpack, sling the strap over your shoulder, and squint at the thin length of road in front of the house. You imagine Dad driving hours upon hours to reach just a store, to reach anything at all.

“Hardware store. Spigot on the side of the house needs fixed. I figured you could take your sister’s room, and he could sleep in yours.”

Shay looks at you, then at his mother. His nose wrinkles. You smile serenely.

“Alright,” he agrees, and that’s how you wind up in his childhood bedroom. 

There’s nothing childlike about it apart from the size of the bed. Sitting on the edge of it with your backpack between your boots, you look up at the light cover on the ceiling — a bowl of dust and moths — then at the dresser with the mirror sitting on it and the chip in its leg you just know he kicked there when he was, oh, fifteen.

A little scrap of metal sits on top of the dresser in front of the mirror. You know what that is, as unidentifiable as it seems: it’s a piece of The Airplane. That story feels like something you can clutch to your heart — it’s The Airplane that fell out of the sky when Shay Ferrick was just a kid. That fell like an angel outta Heaven and crashed like flaming hell in the field with the pilot smoldering inside it. Shay found that scrap of metal with Dad years later.

You stand and pick it up.

“Don’t,” Shay says, taking it out of your hand and laying it down again, “do anything weird in my bedroom. In my parents’ house. ‘Kay?” 

He lays his hand on your shoulder and pushes you down onto the bed again, and your heart flies up into your throat like a chimney sweep who got sealed in.

“The less you wanna talk, the better.”

“As it pleases you,” you reply, and lean down to unlace your boots. “I’ll lie up here a while.”

Then you do, while he goes downstairs and makes stilted conversation with his mother. Their voices carry up through the cold carcass of the house while you lie on your back with an arm tucked under the musty pillow. The lace curtains are open and the dust on the glass lights the whole window golden, but you make out an airplane gleaming thousands and thousands of feet away. The windmill creaks. Then you can hear the plane’s engine, then nothing again, until,

“Well, you’ll move back here, won’t you?”

Then Shay’s sharp whispering. You can’t make out the words. The little smile that lives at the corners of your mouth when you’re with him is vanishing, however, loosening and uncoiling, and your heart knocks to be let out.

Now she’s whispering, too. Everything ends in question marks.

Your friend don’t know?

He clears his throat and says he’s gonna smoke a cigarette. Asks if she wants to come out with him. That screen door slams shut, bounces. You sit up again and slide down to the edge of the bed, then glance out onto the barren lawn. 

He’s out there, looking up toward the window. You can see it on his face; you heard something you weren’t supposed to hear. He knows better than believe you could ever miss anything. And now you know this; it sits like a lump of concrete in your stomach: Shay Ferrick is afraid of you.

[iamthecomet]

Mushy May Day Two - I Made This For You

Fandom: Ghost (The Band) Rating: Everybody Pairing: Dew/Rain implied polyghouls Featuring: Angst. Summoning day nonsense. Dew has a feeling for once. Angst and mush and idiots in love with each other. Dew doesn't do summoning days. But there's just something about Rain. Word Count: 1.3k+ Read below the cut, or on AO3.

Dew doesn’t do summoning days. Especially not his own. He’ll participate in others, sitting quietly with his pack mates. Curling in on himself as the day progresses. Picking at his food. Cramming himself into the corner of the couch, sitting, knees pressed to his chest on the dock while Rain swims. He’s present, always. But not really there. Participating feels like too strong a word.

He’d like to lock himself in his room on every summoning day. To just forget about them. He doesn’t voice that though—can’t. Not when Sunshine’s face splits into a blinding grin on her first summoning day when Mountain reveals the cake he made for her.

The others have stopped trying to make him celebrate his. It’s hardly a summoning day anymore anyway—he isn’t the ghoul he was when he crawled out of the pit. All the soft pieces of him burned away, left with scars and the occasional ache where his gills used to be.

No one blames him. He felt guilty at first. The way he’d retreated into himself on that first summoning day after his element change. Mountain cooked him his favorite breakfast. He pushed it around on his plate, felt sick to his stomach at the thought. The day didn’t feel like it belonged to him anymore.

But it’s gotten better. Over the years they’ve all gotten used to it. It’s routine for everyone to pretend to forget that it’s Dew’s summoning day. Cumulus always fails, she never say anything outright to him about it—but she dotes on him a little extra. Dragging him into the cushion of her body, pillowing his head on her lap while they watch their nightly movie.  

The only summoning day that makes him feel like something is waking up in his hollow chest is Rain’s. He can’t ever decide if it’s pain or pleasure. But it’s a feeling all the same. He doesn’t know what to do about it. He's been thinking about it for longer than he wants to admit. So when Rain says he wants to go for a sunrise swim, Dew ignores the sea of shocked faces around him and offers to go with him.  Rain wakes him up early—before the sun is even up. He offers Dew a mug of steaming coffee. Dew’s bleary eyed, barely awake. He cradles the coffee in both of his hands and looks Rain up and down. And even though the part of him that this hurts tells him to go back to bed right now—he doesn’t. He follows Rain out to the lake. The dew-covered grass cold under his bare feet.

He sits on the dock, coffee pinned between his plams, sipping on the scalding liquid. It warms him from the inside out. The sun starts to peak over the horizon, slanting pale light over the worn dock.

Rain strips down and dives into the lake just as light starts to sparkle across the glass still water. Dew, drags his knees up to his chest. He aches.

When Rain surfaces, the gills along his neck and ribs have filled out, fanning to life. Paper thin, nearly translucent. Dew slides his hand over his own neck, feeling the strange white scars along the sides. It still seems strange that they’re gone. That he doesn’t feel them shifting against his probing fingers.

“You didn’t have to come,” Rain says softly. He’s at the edge of the dock now, arms folded over it, almost touching Dew’s knees. Dew looks down at him. “I shouldn’t have asked. I’m sorry—”

“No,” Dew puts his coffee down on the dock, he shifts, stretching out to lay on his belly so he’s face to face with Rain. He puts his warm hands over Rain’s ice-cold arms and squeezes. “I wanted to.”

Rain’s brows furrow down like he thinks Dew is lying to him. Dew shuffles forward enough to presses his forehead to Rain’s, wet hair slipping over his skin, he presses warm dry lips to Rain’s forehead.

Rain tastes like the sea.

It makes Dew want to scream.

“When you’re done with your swim I have something for you.”

Rain pulls back, eyebrows raising. “Dew—”

Dew shoves at his arms, trying to dislodge him from the dock. “Don’t get weird about it.”

“But you don’t—”

“If you don’t shut up I’m not giving it to you.”

Rain watches him warily. Dew doesn’t blame him. Dew pushes at his arms again. “Come on. Hurry up. It’s cold out here.”

Rain rolls his eyes and pushes off of the dock, disappearing into the depths again. Dew pushes himself back up to sitting. He grabs his coffee. He dips his toes into the water. Cold like always. He curls his feet up under his thighs. He finishes his coffee as the sunrises. When Rain emerges the dew has burned off the grass and everything is bright and green and awake.

Rain dries himself off, his gills disappear as he pulls his glamor back in place. Dew mourns the loss of them, reaching up to touch the place where they vanished as Rain pulls his sweatpants back on.

“Come on,” Dew laces his fingers with Rain’s and pulls him toward the Abbey. “Before everyone wakes up and makes a big deal out of this.”

“It is a big deal you know?” Rain says matching Dew’s stride, giving him a sideways glance.

“Shut up.”

“Dewdrop—”

“Rain. Don’t take this the wrong way. I don’t fucking like summoning days. That’s not changing.”

“Then what—”

“Dunno. I like you? I like watching someone else enjoy water the way I used to. I’m not thinking about it any more than that.”

Rain frowns. Propelled—always—by an inherent need to help Dew out. To fix the ever present hole in his chest. To figure out how to patch him up and make this right. Dew waves him off.

“Just let me give you a fucking present. It’s probably never going to happen again.” Rain stands in the doorway to Dew’s room, hair dripping onto the hardwood as Dew rummages through his top desk drawer.

“Satanas, Rainy. Come in here and close the door,” he snaps just as his fingers graze over cool chain and warm stone nestled beneath. Rain listens, closing the door softly, still looking at Dew like something’s gone terribly wrong. Dew curls his fist around the stone, feels the warmth beating through it. Something like nerves crawls through his chest, into his stomach.

When was the last time he gave anyone a gift?

Ifrit.

He bites down on the inside of his cheek, forces that thought out of his mind.

“You might hate it.” Dew says softly, holding his clenched fist out for Rain. Rain opens his palm beneath it. And Dew opens his fingers one at a time. Cool silver chain pooling through his fingers into Rain’s outstretched hand. The stone falls last, trapped between Dew’s fingers for just a second longer than it should be.

Rain uncoils the necklace, lays it out over his palm. The fire opal resting against his wrist. Rain drags his finger over it. It flickers, either in the dim light, or with the magic Dew forced into it to keep it warm.

“It’s warm,” Rain breathes.

“Yeah. Water’s cold. Wanted you to always have something to warm you up.”

Rain looks up at him, cerulean eyes brimming. Dew shakes his head. “Don’t you fucking dare.”

“Dew did you—”

“Yeah. Made it. For you,” he says voice stilted. “There’s a jewelry conspiracy this year. They’ve been talking about it since you bought those earrings on tour. So, expect a lot of it. I just wanted…” Dew shakes his head. “Saw the opal and I couldn’t—I had to.”

Rain curls the necklace into his fist and throws himself at Dew. He’s cold and wet, and Dew isn’t expecting any of it. They land in a heap on Dew’s bed. Rain pressing his face into the side of Dew’s, lips grazing over his cheek bone. “Dew—”

“Don’t you dare tell anyone.”

“They’ll see it.”

“Make something up. I don’t need them in here throwing a party because I did something.” Dew’s look is withering. Rain kisses him, soft and sweet on his lips.

He holds his fist, clenched around the opal, over his heart as he looks at Dew, a grin tugging on his lips. “Not a word. I promise.”

Dew pulls him down into a kiss.

They’re very late for breakfast.

[luna-writes-stuff]

Day 18: Seven, Dean Winchester

Song link

Fanfic, gn!reader

Fluff, angst in flashbacks

Word count: 3058

Tw: Flashbacks. I am not a John Winchester apologist, oops. Mentions/description of violence and gore, but none too graphic. Losing of consciousness, waking up in a hospital. Dealing with the loss of a loved one (John). You have two parents for the sake of the story. Slight domestic problems; Dean keeps running from John, John gets mad at your parents.

Summary: Throughout your life, you had learned to love Dean Winchester. And though it was complicated, he kept running back to you one way or another. These are short moments throughout your life where you realised you loved him, and where he realised he loved you.

“Please picture me In the trees.”

The swing was your favorite spot. Located underneath a willow, swinging above a tiny lake; it had a natural, calming ambiance. You had spent many mornings sitting there in the cold autumn air, reading a book, or simply staring at the foxes that would occasionally pass on the other side of the creek. As the sun slowly rose to its height, green lights would reflect through the leaves that still decorated the trees, sending you perfect luminance to focus.

After breakfast, you would always rush there, though no one would ever sit on the swing. There weren’t many people in the park - never were, but you kept your spot. As a child, what else do you have to worry about?

“I hit my peak at seven feet In the swing Over the creek I was too scared to jump in.”

But you were not alone these past days. For even now, when the sun hadn’t even set yet, the water in front of you moved in irregular waves.

“Will you ever join me?” A voice sounded from the pond, causing you to look down at the boy with a smile.

“You’re insane.” You joked, referring to his rather stupid idea to jump into the lake at 7 in the morning, your breath still fogging up the freezing air. The boy, however, scoffed, dumping his head underwater as if to make a statement, before resurfacing, sticking his tongue out to you.

“You’re stupid.” He retorted, splashing water towards you, though it did nothing but clean your shoes.

You looked down at the droplets with a teasing smirk, kicking a pile of leaves in front of the swing into the water, dirt dying the water temporarily. The boy stuck his tongue out, swimming towards the shore. Leaning his arms on the grass, he stared up at you, a stupid grin on his face.

“Dad said you could come over today,” He started. “It’s Sammy’s birthday.”

“I remember,” You pointed out. “We bought him a gift three days ago.”

Dean simply formed his lips in a thin line, as if he forgot. You shook your head at the notion, looking back in front of you as you dangled over the creek. All was well that morning.

“But I, I was high in the sky With Pennsylvania under me.”

The walk to your home seemed even longer that particular morning. Something lay heavy on your friend’s mind and you could see it. As you reached your porch, your mother already stood outside, a towel in hand for Dean. The boy ran up to her, offering her a short hug, simultaneously soaking her jeans in water. Grabbing the towel he ran back to you.

“You’re leaving again, aren’t you?” You spoke aloud, referring to his earlier departure months ago. After that, you figured you’d never see Dean again. But he had returned. Apparently not for long.

His face fell upon your words, looking down at his feet. “Was it that obvious?”

“You looked the same as you did last winter.” You informed, turning on the balls of your feet. “That is why I am invited to Sammy’s birthday, right?”

“Well, dad didn’t want to celebrate anything,” The boy admitted sadly. “But I convinced him. He was going to leave tonight, but I wanted to say goodbye.”

You smiled at him, though disappointed, you were glad he stalled. Leading him inside the living room, you grabbed the two cups of tea from the kitchen counter. You knew Dean already drank coffee, but your parents had discouraged it. Even if they weren’t Dean’s real parents, they tended to act like them at certain moments. But the boy eventually grew to love the tea, and knew to not ask anything different.

Dean’s father had always been rougher around the edges. You had met him a handful of times when you and Dean just started your friendship, but he was entirely different than your parents. Dean seemed to love them, though.

“Are there still beautiful things?”

The tv was playing silly cartoons as you and Dean sat on the couch, mindlessly watching them. A laugh would occasionally tear from your throat, pulling the boy with you. He had yet to change out of his wet clothes, but at least he had covered his seat with two other towels. Your mother had lectured him about that last time.

These mornings were always spent like that. The tv would be playing Looney Tunes, your mother would have made you tea, a tray of biscuits on the table. It was cozy, and comfortable. Dean seemed less tense than he usually did. And he was able to look really tense for an eight-year-old.

Your parents had offered to talk with Dean’s father often, but he kept shaking them off, claiming he was fine. You knew better, but you also knew better than to intervene. Your parents loved Dean, and you knew the feeling was mutual, but Dean had another family.

“Sweet tea in the summer Cross your heart, won't tell no other And though I can't recall your face I still got love for you.”

You wouldn’t see him for a year after that. He promised to visit through the winter, but through letters, you had to figure out he wouldn’t be stopping by for Christmas break. He was kind enough to send you a leather bracelet, its strings braided together. But you did not know where he was. He would never tell you, and so the notebook hidden behind your plushies would remain untouched, slowly gathering dust.

Winter turned into spring, which turned into warm summer nights. Since May, you hadn’t heard anything from him, and he wasn’t one to forget his monthly letters. September had been just around the corner. Three months, a long time for someone so young.

Your parents told you that was simply the way it went. You were only seven, how were you to disagree? Unbeknownst to you, you’d meet him again soon. Simply not in the way you would have hoped.

“Your braids like a pattern Love you to the moon and to Saturn.”

It had been the second week of September when everything happened. When children began to disappear from your area. Your hometown. Three classmates had gone missing within a week. No one was allowed to cross the streets without supervision, so it took you by surprise when there was a knock on your door that Wednesday afternoon.

Your mother had opened the door, allowing Dean and his little brother in. A look of sadness crossed her face, rather than an angry one. You weren’t angry. You were relieved. He was okay.

His father was working a job, he told you. He and his brother needed a place to stay, since motels were full. You didn’t believe him. No one had crossed this town since the news, but you did not tell him. You were glad he was there. And that night, he had told you everything. About his mother, about his father, and about his father’s actual job.

The two of you passed out on the couch to Looney Tunes that night, Sam having occupied your bed. And that was the first time you realized you were in love with Dean Winchester.

“Passed down like folk songs The love lasts so long.”

The second time you realized you were indeed deeply, and truly in love with him, was that same November. He had only been gone for a month, and his dad had left for the other side of the country without a note. The Winchesters had arrived in town by bus, and you were there to await him.

You had grabbed Sam’s hand, making sure he wouldn’t run off, as you walked the familiar streets to your house. Even Dean knew them by now. You showed Sammy the park you used to visit, and you finally shared that dive, even as the water was freezing.

Coming home again, it was sweet tea and Looney Tunes. His head had fallen against your shoulder, his eyes slowly closing. Their journey must have been tiring; Sam had fallen asleep on the chair only minutes prior.

Your hands wrapped around his arm, keeping him close, and making sure he wouldn’t fall over. He was out like a light after that. You had never seen him sleeping before. At sleepovers, he used to fall asleep after you, and wake up before you could. But now you could properly see his relaxed features. The freckles dusting his cheeks, or his hair that fell over his eyes just a little bit. He had told you he was thinking about shaving it, but you decided against it. He seemed to value your opinion, for it was the same as it had been last December.

The peace that radiated from him seemed to calm you down as well. Yes, perhaps you had fallen for him. And you had no idea that, even at the age of seven, you would never get over him.

“And I've been meaning to tell you I think your house is haunted Your dad is always mad and that must be why.”

The third time you realized it came unfortunate. It had been a year later, and Dean’s visits became more frequent. And John, his father, had noticed. There were nights he’d stand on your doorstep, exchanging heated words with your father about Dean. Your father seemed to love Dean more than John did. Yet John was always the one who would take the boy home that night.

That is when you grew to call him John. You used to refer to him as Dean’s father, but after that first fight, you had lost your respect for him. But regardless of how often the man would yell, Dean would always run back. And he was always welcomed.

After one specifically heated argument, your father had broken down in the kitchen, muttering something about the police. He hadn’t wanted you to hear, but he couldn’t have known you were still on that staircase.

You heard John’s car depart from your driveway, and you took your chance. Slipping through the backdoor, you left the house. You knew where they were staying. There was only one motel in the neighborhood.

“And I think you should come live with me And we can be pirates.”

It wasn’t difficult to find their room. John seemed at the end of his screaming match. Before you could get to the door, it flung open, and the man stormed out, walking back to his car. He hadn’t spotted you yet, and there were no boys trailing behind him. He was going for a drink.

Opening the door, you found Sam on the couch, staring at the Looney Tunes on the tv screen, his eyes slightly glossy. You greeted him silently, offering him a wave and a sympathetic smile. He merely ran over to you, engulfing you in a hug. A short sob escaped him before he escaped from your arms, running back to the couch and grabbing his chips.

“Dean?” You called through the small room. How three people would fit in there, you couldn’t comprehend. Not even for one night.

Sam gestured towards the closet, but said nothing, trying to occupy himself.

“Then you won't have to cry Or hide in the closet.”

Reaching towards the knob, you opened the closet gently, finding Dean at the bottom of it. As he spotted you, he quickly wiped his eyes, croaking out one word, hushed under his breath.

“Sammy.”

You understood him immediately, stepping into the closet as well and closing the door, before sitting down on the other side of him. And that’s when he broke down. Instinctively, you moved your body closer to his, opening your arms to him. He crawled into them swiftly, grasping both ends of your cardigan as he silently cried. And cried. Until he ran out of breath.

You stayed there with him until his eyes were no longer red. Until his breath was no longer shaky, and his nose was no longer running. He could almost swear his headache had disappeared.

For you, that was the third time.

For Dean, it was the first.

“And just like a folk song Our love will be passed on.”

Now, years later, you sat there on the hospital floor with him. His body still stitched and bandaged up. Your leg had been three kinds of broken, but still, you sat there with him, as you had done seventeen years earlier. Your back against the wall, your arms opened, Dean tucked within them.

The man that had often been the reason for his secret crying, would cause him pain one last time. Sam had collapsed beside you, his head leaning against yours. Though younger, he had grown up to be much taller than you were, but he was not afraid to utter his true emotions to you. Nor had Dean ever. And, almost ironically, this was the first time the two had seen each other this vulnerable. In the eyes that you always held.

The funeral was silent, almost deafening. Dean’s hand had been clasped in yours as his eyes kept staring at the flames in front of him. Sam had found himself against the hood of the Impala, removed a reasonable distance. He needed time. They both did.

Even after the years of misery, and having to clean the mess up John left behind, you could not help but mourn the man. Not for his actions, nor his words, but for the hurt the Winchesters had to go through now. What Dean had to go through now.

Your head fell against Dean’s shoulder, following his gaze to the fire. Dean, however, began to look at you. You had been there with him through everything. All those years ago, deciding to leave with him when you went to get Sam from college, following the two brothers into their search for their father; you had been there. And he hadn’t asked you to. You simply did.

That is when Dean realized, this wasn’t lust. This was love.

“Please picture me In the weeds Before I learned civility I used to scream ferociously Any time I wanted.”

It took one faithful night for you to say the words out loud. Hunting one werewolf seemed a terrible idea. Especially when he had planned an ambush with four of his brothers. You weren’t alone, it wouldn’t be an issue.

But Sam got knocked out, and Dean was busy warding off two on his own. It was up to you to make sure none would get Sam. You had stood over his unconscious form, your knife swinging in your hand dangerously, almost taunting the two others. And then one of the brothers Dean was fighting, escaped, and made way for you. From your back.

Before you could process anything, your face hit the floor, a sharp sensation flowing from your nose to your head. That would leave its mark.

Turning around on your back, you managed to pierce the wolf, but his brothers had reached for your legs. Pulling you from underneath the body, one slashed your arm, forcing you to drop the blade. That’s when the second one took a bite from your leg, whilst aiming for your stomach. Both a hit.

Dean had gotten there quickly after that, ending both of them. Adrenaline forced you upright, but it left as soon as it came, and you fell forward almost instantly.

“Y/N? Hey!” Dean’s voice rang, his arms grasping your shoulders as he forced you to sit up. You remembered seeing his panicked face, even though it was all hazy. Almost like a puzzle.

You remembered him asking you something. You remembered him carrying you to the passenger seat of the Impala, quickly binding your arm and leg with two towels in the trunk, and your stomach with his jacket. You remembered the searing pain, and Dean’s pleas and apologies. You remembered Sam’s still unconscious form on the backseats. And that’s where you lost it.

“Sweet tea in the summer Cross my heart, won't tell no other And though I can't recall your face I still got love for you.”

You woke up in a white room, almost blinding your eyes. The beeping of machines and rushing of nurses had forced you awake. The warm hand covering yours was what kept you.

“Jesus, Y/N. You scared the shit out of me.” Were the first sentences you heard.

Your head turned to your left, your eyes still narrowing to adjust to the light, but you recognized Dean’s face. And his voice.

“Sorry,” You whispered, a smile on your face.

“Asshole,” Dean mumbled, though he couldn’t help the grin making its way on his face. You were awake. You were okay. His hand made way to your face, brushing your hair out of your line of sight. Even half conscious, the notion sent sparks up your spine. You found yourself leaning into it subconsciously. And Dean left it there.

“I couldn’t leave yet,” You continued, your voice broken, but still audible. “I had to profess my undying love and fidelity to you.”

Dean chuckled at your words, muttering something close to a ‘you haven’t lost your sense of humor, thankfully’. But you ignored his statement, offering him a serious look.

“It’s not a joke.”

And that’s where he froze. His arm appeared rigid underneath yours, and the hand covering yours clenched tightly. ‘It’s not a joke’ echoed through his head.

“Pack your dolls and a sweater We'll move to India forever Passed down like folk songs.”

“Well,” He began hesitantly. “I wouldn’t have allowed you to leave yet. Still had to utter a couple chick flic words here and there. Perhaps some dates.”

Your smile grew at his words, growing almost lightheaded at the sudden burst of happiness. You had almost forgotten you had just woken up.

“Some?” You tested, turning your hand in his hold so you could intertwine your fingers together.

“We can decide on the number when you are walking again.” He decided, retrieving his hand from your face. “And you are not bound to these things.” Tugging on the intravenous drip running from your free hand gently.

“But first; recovery.”

“Our love lasts so long.”

[theredofoctober]

OUROBOROS— DEAD RINGERS FIC PART 4

Cross posted from ao3

Pairing: Beverly Mantle/Elliot Mantle

Synopsis: The sisters reconnect in the most intimate manner...

TW: incest, abusive relationships

Read after the ✂️

Chapter Three: Four

"I don't know where to start," says Beverly, and she's curiously shy, as she's never been with me, warmly flushing, and nectarine sweet. "I just don't want to get this wrong."

"How could you?" I say, and kiss the swollen spoils of her pretty lips until she moans into my touch, a perfect darling. "You've never gotten a thing wrong in your life."

"Oh, I have," my sister murmurs, and she cups my face, my warm neck with its pulsing vein, alive with the love of her. "And I could spoil this, if I don't— think. If I don't take my time."

"So take your time," I tell her, and sit back like a queen as she kisses my mouth, and chest, and lays her head against me with a most romantic tenderness; I could die of it, a storybook, satin, sylph’s kind of courting.

I hadn’t imagined it this way, when I’d pictured it, before.

I used to hear her hot, palm-smothered panting in the night, see her back arch, feet dragging under the blankets as she touched herself to quiet pleasure as I lay, bold and star-spread, naked atop the cotton sheets, as I fucked myself with my fingers to screams, thinking of my sister’s mouth on my wet cunt, her hand calling me to the crest of my orgasm, up and over its golden ledge.

She'd sit and watch me, silent, the search light of her still, dark eyes upon me; we'd been naked in front of each other so many times that it shouldn't have been special, nothing beyond the banal, yet having had my sister now, even her most least favourable feature seemed exactly as though whittled by the Above.

And she and I are certainly so, I know it in the dust of me, know that only the divine and miracle-wielding could work such glory into the flawed flesh of men, of the women that we are; I would dash myself upon the cool cliff of my sister, if she let me, drunk on the brine of the land-swept mermaid that is my Beverly, so long of hair, and foam built, and salty in her spending.

She lifts her head to look at me, and I want to take her ponytail down from its tight entrapment and haul her to me, to grip the back of her dainty skull in my hands and grind her mouth upon my cunt until her lips swim with the swell of my waves. But I don't, or else I'll be the one to make a wreck of this moment, as I do everything I touch in my exact, epicurean vision, as I tear down all the delicate, pretty things I love in fell destruction.

“There’s something I’d like to do,” says Beverly, suddenly. “My hands, my mouth alone; they... aren’t enough.”

“They are,” I insist, “but do whatever you like. All of it, everything.”

My sister sits back, touching her forehead in a tentative reflex, and smiles with such unshielded love that it feels as if our souls could spill from us like wine from a chalice and pool together in one wide lake. I feel my heart beat in every pulse point as Beverly gets up to open a drawer, the same rain-beaten rhythm it’s kept since I stepped into the house, and I smell my own excitement like the musk of a flower filament, all dirt, and grass, and sun.

“This,” says Beverly, in a nervy undertone. “I want to use this. Is that okay?”

She’s holding a toy of silicone and leather straps, a streamlined black, and smelling of the animal killed for its construction; I think, with a stab of victory, how it must have been used on the actress, how I’ll have my piece of her, after all.

“Oh, of course,” I say, and scramble forward to help buckle up all the complicated straps on my knees like a serf, pushing my sister’s hands away as she attempts to do it herself, taking the task from her for the power of it, making her readily reliant on my care.

She looks down at me, her eyes the same pretty darkness as the inner shadow of her delectable cunt, the same power and infinity, the same as mine, all of it, all of her, and as I press my lips down over the length of her cock I see her smile, so tenderly that, though I choke and slaver, all my horrible sounds are the music of our untidy and wondrous love.

I imagine that I taste Genevieve on the clean rubber shaft, think of her with a hateful glee as my teeth squeak over every inch; my loathing and want each come from the same channel, so close that I feel the static of them pass one another by as my sister holds me by the hair and guides me softly down upon her. But the woman between us is rapidly forgotten as Beverly steps back and gestures for me to lie back on the couch, taking a mastery of the act that has always been in her, from our beginning.

“Your turn,” she says, an echo of my words, and she kneels on the carpet, the strap crushed against the couch as she bows her head to me, spreading my labia with elegant hands as though I am some rare artwork, to be handled with gloves in a conditioned room.

Her breath, her touch, is smoke and steam, a heat like a homecoming, and I swear the pleasure of it splits me like a cell; I wrap her ponytail through my hands like a ribbon and am brought to soundlessness where I’d well thought I’d yell. Sounds, words, thoughts are knocked out of me like lights in a storm, and I have nothing to my name but Beverly, the only possession I’d ever care to take, wherever I go.

Each movement of her tongue is an embrace, in its way, and with each little look raised to me I see, in her, the faces of angels painted on ceilings to resemble secret lovers, and I could keep her there forever, if she could only make me come like this for as long as she remains. But in the end Beverly rises, kissing my own taste—hers—back to me, and I feel the head of the strap on at my entrance, waiting there as she leans over me, her breasts soft and warm as midsummer upon me, and she gazes into my eyes with all the righteous bloody rapture of the mother of God.

“Are you ready?” she murmurs, and I wrap my legs around her hips, pulling her down into me to the hilt, my hands necklacing her white throat in links of skin and bone.

“Yes, yes, fuck me, fuck me, fuck me,” I breathe, and Beverly rises and falls upon me so slowly that every gliding thrust of her taunts me as much as it pleases, a fairy tale of touch that lulls me from my thirsting aggression to something far more beautiful still.

I understand that I need not rip and tear and take from my twin, that she desires the side by side of each being held by the other, like vixens in the gloom of some ancient night, knowing no words but the syllables of our enjoyment. Still I squirm a hand between us and summon there the friction I need, a violent flick of the forefinger in contrast to her gentility, and Beverly breaths a sugary little laugh as she surveys my raw starvation from upon high.

“Needy,” she murmurs, and I swear the word is like cinnabar, a red vein through my wet heat and the dancer-flame of loving her.

I moan as she kisses my lips, the heart of my throat, as she fucks me with such light and zephyric strokes that I forget my frantic, snap-jawed, violent want to devour and let myself strip to cilium in all the way I fall to pieces under her.

“I fucking love you, Beverly,” I whine, and she smiles, her hair drifting down in a crow-feather darkness from its tight band.

“And I love fucking you,” she replies, and as her mouth closes upon mine I realise how very secondary the sex is to my ardor for my sister, for myself, and all that we become as we are, joined at the cunt and the lips in a fusion like being conjoined; oh, if we were only fucking made like this, all one, only one.

I come quick and hard with Beverly buried within me, forgetting all but the fucking ecstasy of having her, of being with her, a holy state of being, and I lie there, held, hair-stroked and consoled in the throes of it all, utterly in love. Beverly undoes the silly straps at her hips so that we can cling even closer, as we had done so many decades ago in the chamber of our mother’s womb, nine months of peace, of unity before the birth broke us apart like marrow from a bone.

“It should always be like this,” I murmur, against my sister’s ear. “Can it be? You and me, together?”

I feel Beverly stiffen in my arms, and when I look into her eyes they shift aside, moist, and furtive, and terribly sad.

“Beverly,” I say, and she half-shakes her head, fumbling to draw her hair back into another rigid ponytail; I feel the rejection in that reflex like a slap, a closed door, clothes thrust hastily back on after an affair, and it sinks through me in a bilious, seasick stab that we’ll likely never know each other like this again.

I bolt up from the soda, every bit of me creeping with the cheapness of it, the guilt of giving in.

"What do you keep in your fridge these days?" I ask, rapidly, not awaiting her answer, marching to the kitchen and throwing open the door to an ice world whose contents will never fill me. "I'm fucking starving."

With both hands I sweep out Genevieve's actress-diet yoghurts and shitty salads and scrappy bits of sliced meat and Beverly’s little artisan cheeses and vegetables sliced and boxed by the maid like pretty little gallery displays, and I shove them all into my mouth until I choke, and swallow them down, naked and barefoot and spilling mess down my tits, and not giving a fucking shit about it, about any of it, about her.

Beverly pads into the kitchen tentatively, her shirt pulled taut across her chest, a pointless feature of modesty, of trying to piece back together the woman she was before we made love in the house that she and her ghoul of a girlfriend share together— together, a spit in the face, for fuck's sake.

“Ello, Elliot, please,” she murmurs, stepping up behind me, attempting to close the fridge even as I drag out the shelves and dump them on the sideboard to be raided and emptied and consumed. “You know we can’t live together, and especially not like this. Genevieve—”

“She’s not fucking here!” I snarl, through a mouthful of salad dressing.

My sister picks at a thread of skin at her nail bed, and makes the ineffectual patting gesture of looking for a cigarette carton where one cannot be found.

“Gen will be back sooner that she thought,” she says. ”I think the film has fallen through, somehow; I’m not sure what’s exactly wrong. Poor Genevieve, I don’t think she’s ready to give up on it, but I think that’s what’s happened. So she’s coming home, and you’ll have to go.”

I suck condiments from my fingers with an aggressive pop and shove the remnants of the food onto the floor, painting my rage in cutlets and croutons and cut ham.

“Just like it never happened,” I snarl. “Thanks, Beverly. That feels wonderful.”

She pulls at me with ineffectual fingers, flinching as I shove them uncaringly aside.

“I’m sorry,” she cries. “It just can’t happen. It’s not—”

“What?” I bark at her. “Not right? For fuck’s sake! When have we ever cared about rightness?”

Beverly’s mouth puckers into a pathetic moue that is nowhere near sorry enough for my heartbreak.

“Elliot...”

“We don’t even have to tell anyone about it,” I say, ignoring her completely. “I can keep a dirty secret. They’re my favourite kind.”

Fiddling with her shirt cuff, my sister says, “It’s not that it was dirty—”

“Yes, it was,” I retort, “and that was what was so bloody scrumptious about it. It was filth, and fucking heaven, and it’s the only way we should be. I want it always to be like this, and so do you, so why can’t we? Why?”

Beverly touches the back of her hand to her brow as though in the throes of a very Victorian exhaustion, a vein wound tight across her knuckles.

"There are lots of reasons.”

"It’s only because of Genevieve,” I said, with a cruel, cutting finality. “Always the fucking actress. Well, I don't give a shit about fucking Genevieve! Why won't you just get rid of her?"

I hate how pathetic my sister is as she answers, how sweet and soft and honest in her damnable devotion to the woman I got for her in a shitty little bar, a woman scarcely worth the muck on her shoe, and never mine.

"I love her,” says Beverly, and I choke on my gorge. “I love her very much.”

"More than me?” I ask, and put my arms around her, as though they may tie her like a sash where she would otherwise slip free. “More than us? This?"

My twin shakes her head.

"Differently. That’s all. You can’t compare."

I wish I had pills to snort, a bag to lick, something to quiet the bang in my head and the acid biting a hole through my belly.

"So why the fuck do I have to go away?” I demand. “Because she doesn't like me? Because you’d rather be with her?”

My sister doesn’t answer, but that’s answer enough, speaking with her insipid silence and the listless toying with her fingernails, each awkward motion spelling out a word, a denial, and I feel tears build behind my face like steam under a saucepan lid, so wounded and betrayed.

Then I'm flying at the door, all rage and grief and petulance; I’ll run naked into the street, if I must, anything to put space between me and the humiliation of losing what I so desperately fucking love, but Beverly somehow gets ahead of me and stands with her back to the door, trembling yet resolute in not letting me out to yowl my grievance at the night.

"Stay," she says. "Stay for the night. And the next one, all of them, until she comes home. I want you here for as long as possible."

"And after that?" I ask, fists clenched against succumbing to the suggestion, as I so easily do in the wake of all dispute between us.

Beverly’s eyes lower.

"I don't know."

"Yes, you do."

I try to prise my sibling from the door, but she takes my face between her hands and nudges her forehead to mine, and in that simple touch is all the grief and heaviness of tragedy; in that touch I know that I am loved, and I am desired, and I am milk to the lips of the starving, the only stitch that will hold shut a lonely wound.

"Stay with me,” says my sister, and I fall against her, we fall together, slipping down the door, onto the ground, lying together like woodland animals in the dirt walked in on my shoes that the maid hasn’t seen to mop away.

“Be here, with me,” says Beverly. “For as long as you can."

I lie with my ear to her chest and listen to the jig of her heart like a child with a glass to a wall, the eavesdropping of a life I can never be wholly part of, for all I’ve tried, for all she’s dreamt of it, in visions, mad in the absence of me, as rats will go when their lovers die.

"I want forever,” I whisper, against her skin, and Beverly kisses the top of my head so scarcely that I only know her lips are there by the breath-moved tendril of a hair blown back from the part.

"And we'll have forever,” says my sister, and I love her; I believe her. “We’ll have it. Just... not now."

[ghoulishsmilesxox]

I'm just so angry all the time. all I've been is angry and im trying to remember a time before. before there was something more. It was chestnut leaves and husks, coloured bean bags piled messily on top of each other and kids running around in sparse paddocks. in the bush under a lonely sun, strung out and blistering in a blue sky. it was spending holidays with cousins who don't have enough time to visit anymore. it was the kids eating at a different table to the adults during big family dinners, with those specific type of cheap plastic plates which had knife scratches in them from where they'd worn. it was the smell of chlorine and layers of sunscreen sitting greasy on the surface of the pool, gum nuts and the smell of eucalyptus. it was going to the movies with grandparents. it was the way the wind would whip against your face in winter, when two coats and beanie wasn't enough to stay warm. choc-chip muffins for breakfast in a tiled kitchen, the smell of an aunts perfume who only visited annually. the feeling of warm sandstone beneath small hands, and the dirt on grass stained knees. it was the need to scribble in journals and write down dreams as keepsakes. sitting in a quiet room reading a book you picked up spontaneously and ended up loving so whole heartedly. at Christmas swimming for hours on end. the sound of choirs in church, singing in unison, voices ricocheting within the cathedral as an old organ player hobbled up to his stool. later the way the moon sat glaringly still in the night sky, illuminating the floorboards in a silvery glow. how in that silence, listening to dogs barking, people laughing, cars driving down the road, the moon listened. watching you grow, laughing and crying tears of star dust. how everything then had seemed so unfathomably large and daunting, how you were supposed to be sleeping to leave the next morning, but the moon was too beautiful to not look and talk to.

and now we're here and I wonder what happened to that.

[dawn-petrichor-world]

Till the end of time

Summary: Now he understands why every first day after the full moon, you disappear and always come back covered with dirt from hair to toe and some scratches and bruises.

Warning: +600 words of fluff not proofread.

A/N: I am an utopian/dreamer person. You will probably don't like it because it doesn't fit the universe and I'm aware about it but I literally visual the scene in my head while I was listening to 'Concerning Hobbits' from "Howard Shore", things that should have unblocked my imagination for my first Tolkien fic ideas because this one you will read (I hope, it's the third fics idea). I'm sorry @heilith

And yes, you can consider it as a cliché. Enjoy.

Spring, ô spring. The most beautiful and powerful season of the year with the perfume of fresh flowers that blossom and some animals get out of winter sleep.

This day is fully exciting with a lot of happy screams and laughter at the edge of the Shire.

Holding your dress too long that was lying around the floor, to ease when you run after some youngster or to run away from them with a huge smile on your face.

Once the meal's ready, hands in the air, all of you decide to roll down the hill to go to eat but it's a wrong idea. The elder who is not impressed with your status or who you are, scolds you because you should not present yourself in that condition.

Feet in the river looking at fishes swimming between them, you’re trying to clean the hands and faces of your friends. When it’s your turn, unfortunately, they are throwing water at you but stop when the elder yells at you. All getting out of the river soaking like wet animals, she’s now upset and orders you to sit under a tree. She’s watching you and not afraid to throw things if one of you doesn’t stay calm as she requires.

Winter ended a couple of weeks ago, the weather is still a little bit cold, and eating under the shadow of leaves is perfect to be sick if the clothes are damp. No choice but to move everything under the sky with no clouds to bother you.

What a fool's idea if all of you want to end up red like a tomato or pink like shrimp.

Laying on the grass when the sun is less powerful, the elder is mumbling and applying on your skin exposed and your face a concoction she made after lunch to soothe the burn.

All night, around a fire camp you share some stories about a hobbit, thirteen dwarves, a human, some elves, and a wizard who fought against a dragon and plenty of orcs.

The elder joins you and hums some songs that make you fall like flies one by one.

At the dawn, time to say goodbye but nothing is more painful than hugs, some cry because the previous day was short and it's tiresome to wait until the next full moon. You have to remind them the relationship between elves, dwarves, humans, and hobbits is not perfect like yours. Only spreading the best part of each species and time will create the best future for all.

In the middle of the way home, you find more than three guards where you left them, forming a shield to protect a tall blonde man who wears a cloak which the face is hidden under a big cap, once reveals you recognize the Elvenking Thranduil who followed you.

- “My king!” You immediately kneel but he lifts your chin and lends a hand to help you to stand on your feet.

- “Meldis! Why you never told me about your adventures with all your friends.” He asks.

- “My king doesn’t need to worry, I always choose the best guard to escort me. And I spend with them childish activities, no need to bother you with that.”

- “Everything you did, do, or will do cannot bother me. And following you and discovering what you do every full moon is one of the many reasons I want to spend my life by your side.”

He helps you to climb the back of the deer and wants to know how you fried under the sun even though he watched everything but doesn’t exactly what happened the day and night with them. You enjoy all the rides back to talk about them and what you did with them.

Thanks for reading it. Hope you like it. My Masterlists

[fleurcareil]

1st June 2024: the journey continues!

Over 6 months have passed since my last blog, but today feels a good day to finally start writing again! The sun is shining, and I'm sitting in the grass overlooking a pretty lake... (where am I?!? 🙃)

Most importantly, today it's been exactly a year that I drove out of my home in Burlington, hitting the road on a new journey!

Many things happened in the last year; the remaining of 2023 as I had planned, and then the last few months deviated from plan but in a good way. I'm kind of in between lives at the moment, which is surprisingly more comfortable than I had thought, although hopefully soon I will actually be able to move forward! Please everyone, cross your fingers for me. 🤞🤞🤞

As I wrote in my last blog, I left Toronto at the end of September last year to spend 4 months in Europe(ish) with I family and friends. After that amazing cross-Canada road trip, I was ready to calm down a bit!

I'll try to write a few more blogs providing more details on what I did exactly, but in short it felt really good to take the time to catch up with people I care about. Instead of constantly rushing (although I still had quite a busy schedule!), it was great to spend sufficient time somewhere so that we could simply hang out on the couch for hours catching up rather that feeling obliged to run around. Regardless, Europe being Europe, I still ended up doing a bit of sightseeing in between the cups of tea, but overall, it definitely felt like I could relax!

I spent most of October and November in the south of France at my parents in lovely Provence 🥰. Perfect weather and blue skies meant that despite most of the time simply following along with my parents' daily routine, I did some beautiful hikes in the countryside, where vineyards and olive trees abound!

It's amazing how easily days are spent doing crosswords, reading, chores and going for a little hike, all whilst being most of the day outside in the garden or in & about town! 🤗

In this period, I also went for ten days to Muscat in the Sultanate of Oman visiting my sister, her husband and their two children 😍. We typically see each other in the summer in the Netherlands so it was great to be part of their life there for a bit! End of October, it was still hot 🔥 over 30 degrees, so I was really struggling to do much at all... I did teach my nephew the basics of rollerblading, went a few times to the beach (scorching if not in the water!) and just enjoyed spending time with them, at home or in the playground. Of course it went by way too fast, although at the same time "tante Fleur" must admit she was a bit relieved to leave the heat and busyness behind! 🤪

At the end of November, I switched my home base to our flat in the Netherlands, where it turned out to be muuuch colder, especially as the heating didn't work for a week 😫.

First thing on the agenda was winter camping in a yurt with 6 of my oldest friends from university. After a summer of camping, it hadn't been my idea, however despite the snow (!) and rain, we had a blast and basically chatted non-stop for two days straight... We know each other close to 30 years so that means that all topics go, and the laughter, tears and wine flowed easily! 😂

On weekdays, I caught up with other good friends from university and work, some of which I hadn't seen in 14 years since I came to Canada, very special indeed to reconnect and still feel the same friendship after so long! It also included a fun visit to modern art museum Voorlinden, where you could "swim" underwater! 🤣

The following week I embarked on a mini-European tour, visiting friends & my brother for 3 days each in Copenhagen, Paris, London and tiny Everdon (population 356) in central England.

I was toured through Copenhagen by my dear friend Jamie who I used to work with at CT... in a cargo bicycle! The best thing ever, as I kept warm under a blanket while he was narrating the sights and manoeuvring us through the busy streets. Mulled wine at the Tivoli Gardens, wine tasting at a distributor under some obscure bridge and wine at home... you get the picture! 🤩 Oh and amazing food as he & his partner are amazing cooks!

Next stop was at my brother in Paris where we visited the art collection at the Bourse de Commerce... the art was a bit too modern to our taste, but the building is impressive and lunch on the top floor was sublime! Staying at foodies (in France! 😃), it meant great food and company all through...

Then, I took for the first time the Eurostar train underneath the Channel... so much more comfortable than the plane for the short distance! My friend Hélène has converted into a true Londoner, so our trips consisted of walking the dog at sunrise in Regent's Park (whilst the chimps in the nearby zoo were waking up!), lunch at a fancy yet homey private club and a visit to the V&A, one of my favourite museums in the city. 😊

Last but not least, I took the train a few hours north to the hamlet of Everdon where Tracey has set up shop with chickens and rabbits in the garden 😀. We ended up making appetizers all day for a party, which was hilarious as we both had no clue what we were doing (ganache truffles anyone??) but the guests left all merry so that turned out OK. Next day, we walked out our headache among the sheep in the very English rolling countryside and ended the evening in the local pub... perfect ending to a great trip! 💖

Back in the Netherlands, Christmas came around quickly so I spent the last few weeks of the year quietly at home, beating my parents and brother-in-law at bowling 🙃 and trying to get outside as much as possible if it wasn't pouring. New Year's Eve is very special as the air explodes with 100's of fireworks (until you can't see them anymore from the smoke) so that marked the end of 2023! 🎉

Meanwhile, I had found out that I couldn't apply for the Chilean visa without going back to Toronto to get my paperwork legalized, so although I didn't really want to, by mid-January I was squarely back into the deep freeze! 🥶 The whole application process is a game of waiting and patience, so that meant I had plenty of time to do many things, including seeing lots of friends, dog-sitting, swimming, hiking, and even completing a course in teaching English!

Some of the highlights include a hike to a frozen waterfall and a visit to a Keith Haring exhibit at the AGO, one of my fav artists in a fab museum!! 😍

Capping of my 3-month stay in the GTA was the spectacular solar eclipse combined with lots of tasty Indian food at my home-away from-home at Navneet & Arpita 😘😘

Celebrating my birthday in New Orleans at my Dutch besties was the best gift I gave myself; with a jazz festival where I collected beer money from strangers, a cool art garden, loving friends, gorgeous weather and a Dollie Parton drag show, what is there not to love?!?🤗

Running a bit out of steam now 😅, I came to Mont Tremblant in Quebec 6 weeks ago to stay at my dear friends Ivan & Cynthia and their larger family (we were 9 on the first day!), where I am thoroughly enjoying being surrounded by nature. I currently teach some 18 hours a week to mostly Koreans (that deserves a separate blog to explain!) while waiting for my visa to come through... again: 🤞🤞🤞

All in all, things are as good as they get; I remain hopeful about going to Chile later this year and in the meantime, I'm having a very different but fulfilling life... I keep learning (things about myself, how to be a coach, new trails) while meeting wonderful and kind people!

Hug, until next time 🌻🌸🌼

[lilyy43]

midnight thoughts ☾

hey guys!! so this is my first drabble im publishing here, i hope u like it and tell me what u think and what would u like to read next!

have a lovely day \(˵ˆ ³ˆ˵)/

:･ﾟ✧:･.☽˚｡･ﾟ✧:･.::･ﾟ✧:･.☽˚｡･ﾟ✧:･.::･ﾟ✧:･.☽˚｡･ﾟ✧:･.::･ﾟ✧:･.☽˚｡･ﾟ✧:･.:

i closed the door to my house as quietly as possible, trying to not wake anyone up. then i walk down the same familiar path i choose to go through almost every night.

right, forward, old house, miss Green, mister Smith, playground, preschool, blue house, and finally, the small lake that opens the park.

i walk into the park, looking down at my dirty converse shoes. they've seen it all, i think. i see my favourite bench under the big tree that's making an umbrella with it's large branches covered with leaves. i sit down and bring my feet up to the bench, pulling ma legs into my chest and hugging my knees. 

as i am drifting away as always, looking at the dark lake glistening slightly from the moonlight, i hear footsteps. i look that way and i see a dark human posture coming my way. my heart skips a beat and i instinctivly get nervous. i have never encountered anyone during my night trips, so this seems dangerous. i'm alone in an empty park, a girl, with nothing with me besides the keys to my house. congratufuckinglations.

but it's too late to do anything right now, the person is already a few steps away from me. if i'm about to die right now, i will die. 

the mysterious man sits on the other end of the bench. as i look closer, i can see that it's a boy. he looks in fact young, maybe even my age. that calms my nerves a little bit. he doesn't say anything, just looks at the water in a similar way to me.

i'd gladly come back to watching the lake but i can't take my eyes off of him. he's mesmerizing. he's wearing baggy black cargo pants and a big black hoodie, with the hood thrown over his head. when i bring my eyes down, i see him wearing the same converse shoes as me, also looking like they've been through a lot. i can see the side of his face, his sharp jawline, smooth skin glistening in the moonlight, perfect nose and those shimmering dark eyes. he seems relaxed, like he doesn't care. even a tiniest little smile hanging on his lips.

he must have felt my gaze on him, beacuse he turned his head towards me. he doesn't say anything. then he reaches his hand out, as if he's offering me to take it. at first i think he's mad, what is he thinking? that he can just come up to a girl in the middle of the night and ask her to take his hand? 

but all my curses towards him disappear, when i take his hand. he pulls me gently closer to him, so that we're sitting side to side, knees touching. i feel weirdly at peace. all the anxiety that i came here with going away when i rest my head on his shoulder. 

i start staring at the lake again, this time more calmly, not so aggressively. he stares at the water too, i think. and we stay like that, until i push myself closer to him and wrap my hands around him and i feel him embrace me back. i hear every noise going down, feeling completely relaxed, my body letting loose as i melt into him. i feel myself falling fast asleep.

the next thing i remember is waking up on the bench, although not exactly the same as i fell asleep. im sitting on it, just leaning on the side of the metal arm. it's already day, something about noon, the sun is at it's highest and it's hurting my eyes. it's really warm and i hear kids laughing and people talking. everyone is acting normal, doing some daily activities. some people walk past me with their dogs, other with bags from the grocery store. some sit on the grass and talk or read books. other dogs are swimming in the lake chasing the ducks. and i just sit there, watching the water again, now glistening from the sunlight.

and then it hits me. the boy. where is he?

i look further across the lake, there is a bench, exactly the same as mine, just on the other side, like a mirror reflection.

but it's covered in shadow, when mine is shining in the sun.

[heartshapedbubble]

Hello, it's me again:3

Can you write some hcs for Luchino (hunter) x s/o? I know you mostly write about his surv identity, but his lizard form wasn't on the "characters that I will not write for" list, soooo...

Since Luchino likes summer and warmth, maybe he and s/o can spend some time outside together? Yk, sunbathing or reading together under the shade of a tree or something like that:D

Hope this request will be ok, but anyway, have a nice day!

nice to see you requesting again !! ☺

also ofc! i'm not limited to only professor luchi - i hope you like this set of hcs🤲💕

luchino diruse spending time outside with his s/o hcs 🦎

luchino is a big fan of outdoorsy activities!

as much as he likes the tranquility and dim lights of his laboratory, he still enjoys the fresh air and the hot weather outside

regularly sunbathes during the summer, but he does it far away from the manor - he would be deathly embarrassed if someone saw him

one time you stumbled upon him sunbathing, laying stomach down on a log and sleeping in the sun

...needless to say he was very embarrassed and shy when he woke up and saw you staring even though you just found it absolutely adorable😭

after his transformation, his clothes tore and it's literal hell trying to find fitting shirts and pants which often makes him feel insecure

and here's when violetta comes to the rescue >:)) !! she made him big, oversized hawaiian shirts out of old summer printed tablecloths for the warm weather and he loves them so much

knows a lot of nice lakes where you two can go for a swim when the heat gets unbearable

he's incredibly good at swimming! it seems weird considering he's a lizard after all, but he was a good swimmer as a human and his lizard abilities just improve his skills a bit more

likes diving and finding various shells, stones and other trinkets at the bottom of the lakes or the sea and brings them to you

if you mention to him that you feel too insecure to wear shorts, swimming suits/pants/two-pieces etc. he's going to do his best to reassure you - he doesn't understand how can you be so harsh on yourself and wants you to feel as pretty as he sees you💕

otherwise loves seeing you wearing summer clothes! always compliments your outfits and tells you how cute you look

big fan of exploring outside - whether it's for research or out of curiosity, it's always two times as fun when he's exploring with you

when you two get tired from all that walking and swimming he suggests curling up near a tree or something

it's a very funny scenario - he prefers the sunlight over anything while you love being in the shade, so he usually sits in the sun and his huge frame gives you enough shade to comfortably lay down between his legs without the sun roasting you

sometimes he just gets tired of the sun so he agrees to lay in the shade with you and read,,

loves when he lays his head in your lap while reading and you scratch his head or gently stroke the side of his face <33 (also he has a pair of reading glasses and it's so fucking funny since they look so small and weird on him)

he also managed to snatch some ice cream/shaved ice from the hunter's side of the manor (bonbon has an ice cream machine option!) and bring them during your walks together

due to his long tongue he eats his ice cream really fast and then snatches a bit of yours when you aren't looking 😭😭

you two often just give up on planning what outdoor activities you'll do and just lay in the warm grass together, if you know how to make flower crowns that's another plus bc he looks adorable with one !

your laying in the grass often just becomes napping together cuz he curls up to you and you two fall asleep while spooning

it's kinda hard for him to kiss you properly since he doesn't have lips so he uses his tongue to kind of?? gently (yet very quickly) touch your cheek or whatever with it like a chameleon (he does it and then when you flinch he acts like he didn't do anything smh wholesome bastard!!!!!!)

while walking he often picks you up and sits you on his shoulder (this is just me projecting on every buff idv character at this point)

his chest is like a soft block of ice it's the best thing to lay on🙏🙏he's also built like an enormous inverted tortilla chip which makes things better

absolutely abuses the fact that his tail is prehensile and uses it to grab you and throw you right into his arms he's smooth as hell

[yourlocalmaraudersbabe]

Hiya! May I request a sirius x reader imagine where the marauders are all hanging out by the black lake. James or remus (probably James tbh) pranks the reader by throwing them in the black lake. What he didn't know is that they are scared of deep dark waters and almost drown and sirius saves them? Fluffy fluffy ending please?

I hope you have a good day!~

💜

“You’re right, nobody can be as lovely as me”

Summary: James thinks it’s funny to throw you in the water and Sirius is there to pull you out

A/N: omg look who decided to post :=)

Warnings: drowning/not be able to swim and there's like one swear word

Word Count: 1401

Masterlist + Characters and ships I write for

Requests are always open <3

Fluff Dialogue Prompt List

Join my taglist here!

“Please enjoy your dinner and relax this evening!”

You sat with your friends, directly next to Sirius while Dumbledore’s voice boomed through the Great Hall, food appearing down the table in front of you.

There were only a couple days left of your sixth year at Hogwarts, the summer holiday so close you could reach out and grab it.

“So what are we doing after dinner?” James asked.

You grabbed a spoonful of mashed potatoes, starting to make a plate of food for yourself. “How about we hang out by the lake?”

James quickly swapped his plate for yours, leaving you to give him a lovely middle finger.

“Prongs,” Sirius chastised as you laughed. You laid a head on his shoulder, telling him it was harmless.

Your boyfriend pushed his own plate over in front of you, urging you to sit up and eat.

James shrugged his shoulders, promptly digging into the wonderful food in front of him.

“Y/n,” Lily started. “I really like that idea. We can all go—”

“But y/n never swims,” Peter cut her off, nearly whining.

“Yeah, it’s not fun without you,” James added. “Why can’t you just go in for even a little bit?”

You glared at the two of them. “Absolutely not.”

Sirius grabbed your hand under the table, squeezing it before placing a kiss to the top of your head. “You better not have just gotten crumbs in my hair,” you whispered, shoving his shoulder.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You stepped outside, hand in hand with Sirius as the warm glow of the sun setting lay a blanket on the world around you. Your friends had already made their way out here, the only reason you two are arriving now is because of the boy next to you.

“C’mon, I need to go back to my dorm. I wanna bring a towel in case I decide to go in.”

“Well do you want to swim or not?” you asked.

“I haven’t decided yet,” he laughed.

“You are the most indecisive person I know, Sirius,” you took his hand, following him up to Gryffindor tower.

“Am not.”

“You are,” you laughed. “Well I’m deciding to lay out, maybe read a book. I’ve also decided that I’m stealing a blanket.”

“Hey, stop rubbing your decision making skills in.”

“Oh, and I’ve decided I’m stealing a jumper.”

He gave a dramatic frown.

You gave a quick kiss on the side of his cheek as he stepped through the portrait hole.

“Well can I at least pick which jumper you steal?”

“Hmm, I don’t know if you’d be able to decide which one.”

You spotted your friends and they waved, casting you smiles from the lake.

Sirius dropped your hand, skipping a couple steps to be in front of you, walking backwards.

“I have a question for you, y/n.”

“Ask away,” you sighed, a smile curling at the corners of your mouth.

“Be honest. Would you still give me a hug if I were to have just gotten out of the water? A kiss perhaps?”

You burst out laughing. “No. No way. Not when I’m perfectly dry.”

“Well maybe we’ll have to test out that theory.”

You deadpanned. “You’re hilarious.”

“I am, aren’t I?”

You spread out your blanket, lying down and soaking in what the sun had to offer before setting completely.

Sirius made his way to the water before the light had disappeared entirely. You closed your eyes, enjoying some much needed rest.

You didn’t know how long you’d been asleep for, and it didn’t really matter now. All you knew that you were hovering over the lake. You had to be dreaming.

You couldn’t tell how high up you were, you were barely able to make out the silhouettes of your friends.

“Ha-ha, very funny!” you called out. “You can put me down now.”

James’s voice echoed up to you. “What? You don’t want to come in for a little swim with us?”

You looked down and saw his little grasp on his wand as he controlled how far you were from falling.

“James, please put me down on the grass.”

You could hear it in his voice. You could hear how he expected this to just be a harmless little prank of his.

“But it will be much funnier if you plop into the water. Just a small plink.”

He didn’t even give you time to respond before you were plummeting into the lake. Your friends were further away than they seemed to be. James had thrown his head back in laughter, ignoring you. Ignoring how fear took over your body, making it nearly unbearable to relax and just float. It was hard to breathe, you could barely even cough as you struggled to stay above water.

“James? What the fuck?” Sirius was at your side in a matter of moments, his arms wrapped around you as you clung onto him for dear life. You had gotten yourself into a coughing fit, as soon as you were steady afloat. You didn’t know if the tears streaming down your face were from embarrassment or genuine fear.

“I feel pathetic,” you finally whispered to Sirius as he swam to the grass.

“Everyone has something that gets to them like this. James didn’t know,” he whispered back while he lifted you out of the water, pulling himself up after. “Are you alright? Can you breathe okay? Do you need to see Madam Pomfrey?”

You sat up, wiping at the tears from in your eyes, your hands moving to fumble with the grass blades in front of you. “I think I’m alright.”

Sirius called for a towel with a near perfect wordless spell. He caught it before it flew right into the back of your head, wrapping it around your body snuggly. He ran his fingers over your face, wiping away the droplets of water, pushing your hair back out of the way. “I’m really sorry about all this, y/n,” he said. “I wish I would’ve seen what was happening.”

The overwhelming feeling had pooled tears in your eyes. You slouched down, leaning into his side. “No, it’s alright. It’s not your fault,” you choked out a laugh, wiping under your eyes.

He took your hand, curling his fingers around yours, rubbing gently against the top. “Want me to go get James? Rough him up a bit?”

A smile crept upon your face. “No, it’s alright.”

A genuine laugh bubbled up in your throat. He hugged you tight, speaking quietly. “How about we go back up to my dorm? Get settled in some warm clothes?”

“I like that idea,” you said. “But only if you carry me.”

And that’s exactly what Sirius did. He carried you all the way up to his dorm, letting you change into dry clothes and slip under the covers first.

He didn’t take long himself, turning the bathroom light off as he made his way over to you. He pulled back the blanket atop of you for a brief moment before laying down and pulling you up against his chest with one swift movement of his arm. You turned your head upwards, opening your mouth to talk, yet failing to produce any words. Your voice cracked, tears appearing once more.

Sirius rolled you over, brushing the hair out of your face and wiping away the tears as they spilled over, muttering soft notes of reassurance. “You’re okay now, y/n.”

“It was really scary,” you whispered, the lump in your throat aching as you spoke.

“I know, darling. But look where you are,” he smiled, kissing your forehead sweetly. “Let’s focus on the present: you’re in bed with me, you’re in comfortable clothing, and you have a blanket to keep you warm and safe.” He tucked the material closer up under your neck.

“I’m right here. Nothing like that is going to happen again,” he trailed off. “I’m here to hold you, darling.”

“Thank you.”

He kissed your nose and wiped away the last of the tears. You turned over once again, tucking yourself in his arms.

It was quiet for a mere moment.

“Hey, you’re sure you don’t want to get back at James? I could make a wonderful polyjuice potion over the summer. James would make for a lovely black dog I know of.”

You contemplated. “I don’t think James could pull off being that lovely.”

“You’re right, nobody can be as lovely as me.”

Sirius Black Taglist(if your name is crossed out I couldn’t tag you :( and send me an ask if you’d like to be removed): @violetrainbow412-blog @wisedreamcatcher @scorpiobaby22 @emmaev @harrypotter0addict @siriusbarnesslut @talksoprettyjjx @onyourgoddamnleft @ilovejamespotter @florqlness @l1lli @confuscita @niceandspicy @emmysworld @i-do-random-things-do-not-ask @daedreamss

[makoodlesarchive]

darling it’s better (down where it’s wetter)

i finally finished it omg lol, genuinely thought this would never be done

thank you so much to everyone for being patient with me and sending me all those cute little asks talking about the fic, that actually really helped with writing it!

For the love of all that is holy, please check out this absolutely incredible art of merbakugou by @crowolina​!

pairing: bakugou katsuki x reader

word count: 14k

warnings: mentions of drowning, explicit sex, interspecies (?) sex, that merman dick yo

 masterlist | tip jar

The humidity outside is so high that the air is sitting thick and stagnant -- it feels like it could be cut with a knife. It’s uncomfortably hot, and the air feels almost damp and sticks wetly in your throat as you breathe. Sweat pools in all the most uncomfortable crevices, until the desire to get into the water is less of a passing fancy, and more of an all-consuming need. You slip carefully down the hill, over the dry grass, until you hop down into the fine sand that makes up the little beach in the sheltered cove at the bottom of the hill.

The cove is protected by natural cliffs on either side, with the only access point being the hill that your uncle’s house sits on. It’s small, but the stretch of sand is soft and golden and clean, absent of any tourists and the debris that they tend to leave behind. It is, by all accounts, perfect, and a far better option than the significantly more crowded beach fifteen minutes away. Thanks to the hill and the natural caves, the air is cooler and easier to breathe in the cove. You set out your towel and water bottle near the base of the hill and strip down to your bathing suit, hefting your inflatable floaty up and preparing yourself to march into the ocean. After all the time spent inside your uncle’s grody house, the fresh air and fine golden sand feels like heaven.

When you finally work up the nerve to dip your toes into the water, you have to fight not to recoil from the cold. The temperature of the water is cool and chill, a direct contrast to the heavy, hot thickness of the air, and it takes a few minutes of psyching yourself up before you’re able to submerge yourself fully. Despite the chill, the sensation of being surrounded by water is a relief after the oppressive afternoon heat. You wade out further, keeping a mindful eye out for the reefs your uncle had mentioned, until the water comes up to your hips, then your chest, then your collarbones. You let the tension seep out of your shoulders as you float, buoyed gently by the waves. It’s the most peaceful you’ve been since your stay with your uncle began after he broke his leg; you don’t mind taking care of him while he heals, but you didn’t quite realise how much you needed a break until now.

The saltwater is like a balm; it takes some manoeuvring to actually get yourself up on the floaty, but once you’re settled and relaxed you think you could happily float on your back like this for hours, lost to the warmth of the sun on your skin and the waves rocking you back and forth. The fresh smell of the saltwater and the soft swaying of the floaty in the ocean waves lull you into a peaceful doze. 

Naturally, that’s when things start to go wrong.

As you fall into a light sleep you fail to notice the thick grey clouds rolling in and the tide pulling out. The waves creep higher and crash faster, and your floaty bobs rapidly along as you sleep, unaware of just about all of it. 

That changes when the floaty catches on a sharp rock jutting out of the water; awareness comes crashing back to you as the floaty tears right as a wave breaks over you, the acute chill of the water and the weight of the ocean pushing down over your head. The shock of the cold water leaves you momentarily stunned and in the brief moment before you start thrashing against the icy waves, a riptide catches your legs and tears you through the water.

Panic rears up in your chest, sharp and choking. Your chest is already aching from the lack of air since you hadn’t had the chance to get a proper breath before you had gone under, and you’re not able to thrash against the current with as much force as you need to be able to reach the surface again. You kick frantically against the water, muscles burning, but you’re so disoriented that you’re honestly not even sure if you’re swimming in the right direction; the salt burns your eyes when you try to open them, and everything is so dark that you can’t tell which way is up.

Your head crests the surface of the water, and you just manage to suck in a painful breath when another wave crashes down over the top of your head. As you struggle to right yourself and reach the surface again, you find your movements becoming sluggish. You’re panicking and running out of air, but even though you know that you still can’t manage to fight your way to the surface.

For a moment something pale cuts through the water in front of your eyes and you think that you’re about to emerge into the air again but you feel so impossibly tired. Your vision begins to go dark, and your limbs are so heavy that continuing to struggle against the tide is impossible. 

You know that you’re sinking, but there’s not a thing you can do to stop it.

Consciousness returns to you slowly and painfully. 

The first thing to register is the soreness in your chest and ribs -- every inhale is an effort, and it feels as though your lungs are actually bruised. You inhale sharply, which causes a chain reaction of hacking and sputtering and retching. The coughing, in turn, highlights how just about every part of your body feels as though it’s been battered continuously against a rock. When you finally crack open your eyes, you wonder for a moment if you might have gone blind, because your vision stays exactly as dark as when your eyes were closed. When you push yourself up into a seated position, however, you find that you’re sprawled on the wet, rocky floor of a cave. 

You move your head very slowly to take in your surroundings, feeling woozy and nauseous. You wonder if you hit your head, or if the nausea is a side effect of nearly drowning. Panic begins building again in your chest, and you have to make a concentrated effort to push all of your uncle’s warnings about delayed drowning out of your mind so you can focus on taking deep, even breaths.

The rocky floor that you’ve woken up on is a ledge of solid stone that makes up half of the cave; the other half is submerged in a pool of clear seawater, beyond which a large crack in the stone walls leads directly back to the ocean. The entire cavern is dimly illuminated by what seems to be phosphorescent algae growing in the water and along the dampest patches of the walls, glowing a muted, luminous blue. It's pretty, but you can’t concentrate on it because in the dim light provided by both the entrance to the cave and the algae, you can see the bottom of the water is littered with what looks like bones.

You look away quickly, because that is not conducive to staying calm. The bones are probably from some stupid large fish that got stuck in the cave and couldn’t figure out how to escape, and you are absolutely not going to look any closer to confirm that. A flash of colour catches your eye, though, and when you turn to look you find the deflated, torn plastic remains of your floaty hanging from an outcrop of rock. 

Amidst the enormous relief at being alive, there’s a growing sense of unease in the back of your mind -- how had you washed up inside the cave in the first place? The entrance to the cavern is nothing but a slash in the rocks, angled in such a way that it would be nearly hidden if not for the thin slant of light shining through. How had you not been dashed to bits by those viciously sharp rocks like your floaty? Even if you had miraculously been washed through the small gap and into the mouth of the cave, by all rights you should have ended up floating in the saltwater pool. How had you ended up on the ledge?

You cast another slow look around the cavern; if you weren’t so sore and scared, you think you’d be able to appreciate your surroundings a lot more. The cave is actually quite beautiful -- the algae in the water gives the pool an almost other-wordly, luminescent blue hue, and the stone ledge is devoid of slimy seaweed or sharp barnacles which makes for a somewhat comfortable place to sit, despite its dampness. The deep booming of thunder from outside the cave is what forces you to realise that you’re not going to be able to get out of here until the storm dies down, but at the very least you could have been stuck somewhere far worse. Other than the bones sitting at the bottom of the pool, the cavern is oddly clean.

It’s only when you realise that your whole body is trembling that you take the time to check yourself out. The cold has caused your circulation to slow, and your hands and feet are painfully stiff and bloodless. While the cave isn’t as chilly as you might expect, it’s still not exactly warm and you have no idea how you’re supposed to stop your shivering. You know that you’ve read survival advice regarding hypothermia before, but now that it’s actually necessary it seems as though all relevant knowledge has leaked out of your brain. 

Your eyes rove the cavern absentmindedly as you think, wracked with the occasional violent shiver. “Fuck,” you whisper to yourself, exhausted. Your gaze passes smoothly over the outcrop of rocks near the cave’s entrance, the red eyes staring up at you from under the water, the froth churned up by the waves spilling through the entrance and into the cave. Another clap of thunder booms from outside.

It takes a ridiculous amount of time for your brain to catch up to what your eyes had just seen, but when you finally jerk your attention back to the water, whatever you had seen is gone. Your breathing is laboured now and stings in your chest slightly, but you pay it no mind as you shuffle closer to the edge of the pool, staring intently at the now empty spot in the water. Maybe your near-drowning experience had resulted in more oxygen deprivation than you had realised, because you could swear you had just seen a man in the water.

“Hello?” you call. Your teeth are chattering, the tone of your voice both nervous and hopeful in equal measures. The cave echoes your voice back to you in a way that makes you feel distinctly idiotic. “Is s-someone there? Please!”

The surface of the water ripples, but you’re pretty sure that the movement is due to the waves rather than some mysterious man hiding in the pool. Feeling disappointed and a little dumb, you sit back and gaze morosely into the water. Were you really so addled that you were beginning to hallucinate?

Before you can begin to worry too much about your possibly declining mental state, the water ripples again. This time, you snap your head up in time to see something dart behind a large rock sticking up from the water. 

“Hey!” you blurt, sitting up and scooting closer to the edge. “Who are you? I c-can see you, asshole!” 

It occurs to you that it’s highly likely that you’re sitting here shouting at a scared seal or something else much less menacing, or human-like, for that matter. You only have a short moment to feel extremely stupid before whatever is out there moves again, and when a head pops out from behind the rock you fall totally silent.

It is a man! His shock of blond hair is wet and plastered to his head and most of his body remains hidden behind the rock, but there’s no denying that it’s an actual person and you can’t help the immediate relief that washes over you.

“Hey, d-did you get washed up in here too?” As soon as you ask the question, you realise that something isn’t quite… right. How had you missed him on your first glance around? It wasn’t as though there were all that many places within the cavern to hide, and there shouldn’t be any reason to hide in the first place; you had been unconscious, after all. Why was he still in the water?

And why wasn’t he answering you? His head is tilted slightly and his gaze is boring into you, but he makes no move to speak or to come out from behind the rock. It hits you then that you’re all alone in an isolated cave with a total stranger who’s positively glaring at you, and you’re wearing nothing but your bathing suit.

Cold unease settles deep in your belly, and you push yourself carefully away from the edge. His eyes follow the movement; you can’t be sure from this far away, but his irises look an almost unnatural shade of red. The hair on the back of your neck and all up your arms stands on end, and you can’t shake off the feeling that you’re in danger.

“I was just leaving,” you tell him, forcing a nervous smile to your face. “I’m just trying to figure out how to get out of here.”

The man doesn’t reply; in fact, he barely even reacts. He doesn’t even blink.

The smile slides slowly off your face, and your throat makes a dry clicking noise as you try to swallow. “Okay!” you say too loudly; your voice echoes throughout the cave, which only frays your nerves further. “I’m going!” Even as you say it, you realise that there’s no possible way out of the cavern without having to get in the water and swim past the man to get to the crack in the cave wall. Water spills through the crevice as waves crash into the side of the cliff, and another clap of muffled thunder reminds you that there is a storm raging outside. Even if you manage to get around this weirdo and escape the cave, you don’t know how far you’ve drifted from the cove. With the ocean so unsettled, it would be plain stupid to dive back out there without knowing where you are or how deep the water is outside of the cave.

The sound of water rippling catches your attention, and you look back at the man to see that he’s beginning to emerge from behind the rock. Your spine stiffens, alarmed at the sudden movement after so much uninterrupted stillness. He keeps low to the water, his face half-submerged, and as he slides out from the rock and begins to smoothly cut through the water. A flash of colour catches your eye and draws your gaze towards the side of his head. Right over the space where his ears should be is delicate soft orange and black webbing that almost looks like…  fins? They twitch a little in your direction, but otherwise hang limply so that they’re almost hidden by his mass of spiky hair.

The fins are distracting enough that it takes you a truly embarrassing length of time to notice that the man has an even stranger feature that his odd ears. As he gets closer, you finally catch sight of the long, lithe tail.

Your instinct is to draw back in both shock and disbelief, but as soon as you move the man (was this even a man?) lifts his head fully out of the water and bares his teeth at you as he spits out a low, sharp hissing sound. You freeze, overwhelmed; your eyes are darting from his teeth to his fins to the tail, but you’re having some serious trouble actually taking it all in. The oxygen deprivation from nearly drowning must have done more damage than you had first thought if you’re beginning to hallucinate shit like this. The tail is long and serpentine, ending in twin webbed fins and covered in dark scales. Combined with his disturbingly human torso, he must be nearly eight feet long. When he reaches the edge of the rocky platform, one of his hands comes up to grip onto the surface and you’re greeted with the sight of long and dark clawed fingertips. They flash in the low light like a threat, ensuring you keep as still and quiet as possible. From this close, you wonder how you possibly missed the fact that he is most definitely not human. 

Your breathing picks up as you struggle not to panic, and the fins on the sides of his head rotate towards you as the air sticks harshly in your throat. It’s undoubtedly a threat display; the way the fins splay out flat makes him look aggressive and frightening, and you want to cringe away but you’re also afraid to move. You just tense up on the spot and try to make yourself smaller, hoping desperately that he’ll lose interest once he realises that you don’t pose any danger to him.

“I’m just trying to get home.” Your voice comes out croaky and shaking with fear. You seriously doubt that he can understand what you’re saying, but the sound of your voice has his head tilting suspiciously at you. Even if he doesn’t understand your words, maybe your low and pleading tone will assure him that you mean no harm. “I don’t know where I am, I’m cold, and I’m sore, and I just want to go home.”

A translucent second pair of eyelids slide sideways in a blink, and you have to fight to suppress your shiver. From this close, he’s so obviously inhuman that it’s downright unnerving. His skin is smooth and blemishless, almost too perfect. His features, while human, are virtually flawless in a way that’s actually quite overwhelming -- he’s beautiful, once you ignore his fish half. And the blood-red, glaring eyes.

Predictably, he remains silent, though the fins on the side of his head drop low. You really hope that’s a good sign, and decide to keep talking. Hopefully, by familiarising him with your voice you lower the chance of him attacking you. “My uncle is probably so worried about me. He broke his leg a month ago in a boating accident, and I’ve been looking after him since. This is the first time I’ve taken any time to myself -- I don’t even know how long I’ve been gone for. He must know something’s wrong, or else I would have come home as soon as the storm hit.”

The creature just blinks that sideways blink, floating still in the water as he stares at you.

You sigh, and ease back slowly into a more comfortable sitting position. Those orange fins rotate towards you at the movement, but otherwise he doesn’t react. You take the lack of hissing as a sign of progress. 

“This is your cave, huh?” You keep your tone stupidly conversational, as if you’re having a friendly chat with a neighbour or something. “It’s nice. Pretty cosy, as far as caves go. Clean. Except for, you know. The bones.” Now that you’ve mentioned it, you can’t help your gaze from drifting to said bones. To your relief, you see that most of them seem to be the remains of various ocean creatures, though there are a few suspiciously large bones that are almost certainly human. Fear rises up through your chest and lodges in your throat, which makes it difficult to force your words out. “Wow. Yeah. The, uh. The bones are kind of gross.”

The creature follows your gaze, craning his head over his shoulder to see what you’re looking at. He pushes himself away from the ledge and dives in one quick, fluid movement, startling you so badly that you nearly overbalance despite sitting down. His tail is pure muscle, and it ripples as he cuts through the water. It’s only now as you watch him submerged beneath the surface that you realise this is a real mermaid creature that you have somehow found yourself trapped in a cave with. The realisation sends you reeling, but before you can spiral into a flat out panic attack, the creature bursts out of the water again. He pulls himself up onto the ledge and leans on it with his forearms, before slapping down an object right in front of you.

It is, quite unmistakably, a human thigh bone. You recoil in badly disguised horror, “Oh! What the fuck!”

The creature watches you, unblinking. He seems… expectant?

You look down to the thigh bone, then back to the creature. Is he threatening you? Is this his way of letting you know that he’s killed humans before, and is willing to do so again? You cringe away from the yellowing bone. 

“Oh shit. Fuck. Oh my god. Okay. Okay, um… I’m not a threat! I promise! I don’t even want to be here. Please don’t hurt me. Shit, you don’t even know what I’m saying, do you?” Your voice has grown thick with panic, and you try to choke it down. Your hands are trembling, and you run them nervously over your face in an attempt to do something with them. “Look. You, uh. You seem like a very nice… mermaid? Mer… creature. I can tell that you’re, um, very strong. And your claws are very intimidating.” You trail off, because you’ve ended up freaking yourself out and losing your train of thought.

The creature has lifted itself a little further out of the water, and appears to be puffing up slightly. You wonder if it’s another threat display, but he doesn’t seem to be overly aggressive. That is, until a clawed hand reaches out and snatches at your ankle so fast that you can barely follow the movement with your eyes. You yelp with fright a solid moment too late, but the pain that you had been expecting doesn’t come. Instead, those sharp, mottled black claws grip firmly at your ankle without actually piercing the skin; the creature appears to be peering closely at your feet.

“Those are my toes.” You tell him stupidly, as though he has any idea what you’re talking about. “They don’t taste good.” You wiggle your toes, and the creature jerks back and hisses at them. “Whoa! Sorry! They’re harmless, I swear! Please don’t kill me!”

When it becomes clear that your toes don’t present any immediate threat, he pinches your big toe between two fingers and squeezes it experimentally. The fear that had been so paralysing is beginning to steadily fade the longer this little exchange goes on without the creature hurting you. You could almost fool yourself into thinking that maybe he was harmless, but the bone sitting on the ground next to your hips suggests otherwise. Still, aside from his initial display of aggression, he doesn’t appear to be particularly hostile. Just a little… over-curious.

His grip on your legs is strong but gentle enough to not actually be causing you any pain, though that might also be thanks to the fact that your extremities have gone numb from the cold. Your shivering has eased up a bit, but you still feel exposed in your damp bathing suit. You’re a little self-conscious, but you’re pretty sure that the mermaid man is too preoccupied with your feet to even notice the fact that you’re in a state of undress; in fact, you’re not even sure if he has a concept of nudity, considering he’s half fish.

You’re so preoccupied with watching the creature rub at your shins that it takes a while for you to notice how quiet it’s gotten inside the cave. “Sounds like the storm has blown over.” You tell the creature, who just stares at you with his brow furrowed. You’re not entirely sure where to go from here; you have no choice but to start searching for a way out of the cave, but you’re not sure how to go about extracting yourself from the creature’s grasp. You don’t know if he’ll stay as docile with you once you’re actually standing and moving around. “How am I gonna get out of here, huh?” 

The grip on your leg disappears as the creature backs up before plunging back into the water with a quick snap of its tail. You can’t help but marvel at the sheer power hidden in that muscular lower half as he powers through water almost faster than your eye can follow. He disappears from view, and it takes you a few seconds before you realise that he’s darted down a passage that you hadn’t been able to see due to the angle. 

As soon as you realise he’s gone, your stomach clenches. “Hey!” You call, suddenly nervous. It might be stupid, but at least when he was here you weren’t entirely alone. “Hey, wait! Please don’t leave me here!”

There’s no sound but the gentle tinkling of water against rock. You sit back with a gusty sigh and shut your eyes. While he wasn’t the most chatty of companions, there was something slightly reassuring about the fact that you weren’t entirely alone in this cavern. Maybe him leaving was for the best though; if he was the one responsible for the mass amounts of bone littering the bottom of the pool floor, then it would be safer for you now that he’s gone. It looks like you’re going to have to get back into the water and swim to the entrance, and while you fill with dread at the thought of having to return to the cold water, it’s probably significantly safer to do so now that the creature is nowhere to be seen.

You slip off the edge of the ledge and into the saltwater pool, hissing as the cold water hits your skin. It’s deeper than you had initially thought; your feet aren’t even close to touching the bottom. You clutch at the ledge and breathe, even though the deep breaths feel like they’re slicing into your lungs. Your feet feel oddly heavy, as though they’ve been carved from blocks of ice, and you feel doubt stab at you; are you going to be able to swim like this?

The water ripples, signalling movement behind you, and you realise that the creature has returned. You have a split second to panic -- if he decides to attack, you’ve just put yourself right in his path -- but then you catch sight of what he’s pulling behind him. It looks like a surfboard that’s been broken in half.

“Oh, wow!” You gasp, reaching out for it. It’s faded and corroded by time, disuse, and saltwater, and there are several deep gouge marks on it that look like suspiciously like claw and teeth marks, but it’s buoyant and definitely more than enough for you to paddle out on. “Amazing! Oh, you’re such a good boy! Thank you!”

Talking to him like he’s a dog probably isn’t the best idea, but his fins rotate towards you and even though he bares his teeth, he doesn’t look entirely displeased by your tone. He also doesn’t move to try and eat you, though his exceptionally sharp teeth are still pointed in your direction. You hope very much that it’s just posturing and that you’re not misinterpreting his body language; the last thing you need is to get torn apart right when you’re trying to make a break for the exit. He lets you take the surfboard and watches as you attempt to drag yourself up on it. It’s easier said than done, considering it’s been broken jaggedly in half and you can’t touch the ground. You might even be embarrassed by how much you’re struggling if there was anyone else around to see it; as it is, you feel like even the creature is judging your flailing legs as he bobs in one place effortlessly.

Apparently, he gets sick of watching your ineptitude very quickly. “Woah!” You yelp as a sharp, scaly hand lands on the curve of your ass. “What the fuck!” The hand pushes at you, shoving you up on the surfboard from behind. You don’t even have the presence of mind to be surprised at his strength, because you’re too focused on the hand on your ass. “Woah, woah, okay, buddy, no groping please!”

The creature’s tail lashes in the water as he stares blankly at you. His hand doesn’t move.

You try to squirm away, but there’s nowhere to go and he is technically helping. “Fucking hell.” You groan. It’s not as if he understands that he’s groping you; he’s a fish. “Okay. Okay, fine. I will overlook this so long as you help me get out of here.” 

The creature shows no sign that he understands your attempts at bargaining. In fact, as soon as you speak he releases his tight grip on your ass and begins to loop slow, lazy circles around you. You sit up, straddling the broken surfboard as you watch him circle you. Now that you’re next to him, you realise that he really is huge -- his tail is long and practically ripples with powerful muscle, and his human half sports well-defined abdominals and bulging biceps, too. His lazy movements and the way that his gaze never once strays from you, not even to blink, sets your hair standing on end. This creature is a predator, and you’d be naive to let your guard down for even a second.

You swallow, and pray that he can’t smell your fear. When you begin to paddle your way towards the cave entrance, the creature perks up and begins to follow. He keeps up with the circles even as you paddle, and you can’t help but scowl at him. “That’s kind of obnoxious, you know.” you tell him, and receive another toothy grimace. If it weren’t for the way his lips peeled back off his sharp teeth, it might have looked almost like a grin.

Watching him in the water is surreal. He moves through it so fluidly that it’s almost mesmerising, and you have to redirect your attention back to paddling several times after getting distracted. Apparently your progress is too slow for him, because the next time he circles around, he reaches out and curls his claws into the board. Wood splinters under his grip, but he doesn’t seem to notice as he yanksat the board insistently. You sit back as the board is pulled through the water, happy to let him do all the work. 

Maneuvering the makeshift raftthrough the narrow entrance takes some effort, but you mostly allow the creature to work you and the board through the gap. And with that, you’re out of the cavern and into the open ocean. The sky is a dull, purple-tinged grey, the sun having already sunk low beyond the horizon; it’s evening time, which means you must have been in the cave for hours. You twist on the damaged surfboard and crane your head around to look back at the cavern; the entrance is barely noticeable, merely a crack in the face of a towering cliff. 

Your heart jumps as you realise that you recognise this cliff. Your eyes follow the length of it, and sure enough you can see the cove in the distance and the shape of your uncle’s house sitting on the hill. “Ah!” you exclaim in delight, a relieved smile breaking over your face. Home! You’re so close! When you glance down at the creature, you see that he’s followed your gaze. He looks back to you, and his tail lashes the water. You point towards the cove. “There. That’s where I need to go. My home is over there.” You only feel a little stupid for talking to him like he can understand; he might not comprehend your language, but he’s obviously intelligent and he’s brought you this far. It’s not too far-fetched to hope that he might bring you just a little bit further.

Your optimism pays off -- the creature dutifully begins pulling the board in the direction you had pointed. In the twilight, you can see that the scales on his tail are an iridescent black colour, flashing deep orange as light reflects off him as he twists and turns in the water. It’s pretty, and you watch in silent admiration. When he begins pulling you faster and splashing through the waves with unnecessarily large flourishes of his tail, you realise that he’s showing off.

You laugh, delighted with the display and giddy now that most of the danger seems to be behind you. “Yes, yes, very impressive. Your tail is beautiful.” 

Obviously pleased with your admiring tone of voice, the creature preens and flexes as he cuts through the waves. With his speed, what should have been a fifteen minute swim is cut down to barely five, and he releases his grip on the board as you begin to approach the shore. As soon as the water is shallow enough for you to stand, you slip off the board and curl your toes into the sand. You turn to grin at the creature, elated, and see that he’s retreated into the waves so that all you can see of him is his eyes and the top of his head.

“Thank you!” You call, grinning as you stagger out of the sea and back onto dry land. “You’re amazing!”

In a flash of scales, he disappears into the waves. You stand on the beach for several long moments, watching the place he had been and wondering if you had just experienced some kind of extremely advanced auditory and visual hallucination. You stay until you start to shiver again in the cold evening air, then stumble your way back up the hill to your uncle’s house.

Predictably, your uncle is a healthy mixture of angry and terrified. It seems you really worried him, and he had no way to contact anyone since he doesn’t own a cellphone. Despite your exhaustion, it takes the rest of the evening to calm him down and assure him that you’re fine. Eventually, you get to slip away for a warm bath and then to bed. 

Lying in bed staring at the ceiling of your uncle’s guest bedroom, you’re sure that it will take you ages to get to sleep. Your brain replays the events of the day over and over again, until the details become murky and your thoughts slow. The last thing you think before you slip off into sleep is how lucky you are to be alive, whether you were hallucinating or not.

You’re an idiot. A total, complete imbecile.

That’s the only explanation for how you’ve managed to find yourself back at the jagged mouth of the cave yet again. It’s been almost a full two weeks since you washed up here during the storm, and in those two weeks you could swear that you had seen a blond head bobbing in the waves in front of your uncle’s house multiple times. It was pretty hard to convince yourself that the whole mermaid-slash-sea creature thing was a product of your imagination after a scary and traumatic event when the hallucination kept appearing right outside where you live.

So, you had borrowed an old surfboard from your uncle (a full, undamaged one this time), and paddled your way back out to the cliff face. You notice almost immediately that the tide is strong here, and it’s difficult to keep yourself from being dashed right against the jagged surface of the cliff. It does confirm your suspicions, though - there’s no way that you could have washed up inside that cave by chance. It takes a significant amount of effort to pull yourself inside the mouth of the rocky structurecave without being crushed into the sharp stone slabs decorating the outside like some sort of deadly decorrocks, but you manage to do so without hurting yourself. 

Inside, the cave looks exactly the same as last time, though this time it’s empty. You paddle forward, the movement significantly easier now that you have a full-sized surfboard. Peering around, you see no sign at all that anything living might have occupied the cavern. That’s when the doubt starts to come creeping in. You’d had the odd invasive thought over the past two weeks that maybe you had imagined the whole mermaid creature (because it was, admittedly, insane), but then you had seen that blond head floating in the ocean breeze on several occasions. You could have sworn he was watching the house! Now that you’re here and facing the complete absence of evidence, you start to feel a little silly.

You paddle further into the cave, straddling the board so that your legs can kick out through the water. You admire the phosphorescent algae growing up the walls, amazed at the natural glowing light. When you turn your attention back to the bottom of the pool, though, you go still. 

It’s empty. The floor of the pool, previously littered with bones, is totally pristine.

You sit still on the surfboard in the middle of the pool, gazing down into the water. Despite how crazy the whole situation was, you had been sure that you weren’t imagining it. But now, faced with the complete absence of evidence, you’re forced to consider the fact that maybe the whole thing really had been in your head. You have such a vivid memory of the silt-covered bones blanketing the floor of the cave that now seeing them missing has completely thrown you off.

A bark sounds behind you, rough and deep like a seal, and you jerk hard in surprise.

Whirling around, clutching at the board beneath you to keep your balance, you catch sight of the creature floating by the entrance to the cave. He’s watching you intently, having obviously been monitoring you since you first managed to float inside.

The relief that slams into you feels like a physical punch -- the spikey hair, red eyes, and tail are exactly the same as you remember. It’s real. You laugh, and it feels like the sound has been ripped right out of your chest; the situation is almost overwhelmingly surreal, but the endorphin rush of knowing that you’re not delusional has you grinning at the creature, wide and bright.

“Hi!” You say, trying to keep your voice as level as possible despite your elation. You may have been delighted to see him, but you have no idea if he even remembers you from two weeks ago; you can only hope that he doesn’t decide that he’s hungry today. “Wow, look at you! You have no idea how good it is to see your face! And your tail! God, I am so glad to see your tail! It’s real, holy shit.”

One of the creature’s webbed fins twitch on the side of his head, rotating towards you as you ramble. In a single, smooth movement he pushes away from the entrance of the cave until he’s right in front of your surfboard, his face half-submerged in the water. He seems pretty docile today, his movements strong, but relaxed. The aggression he had displayed that had scared you so badly the first time is completely absent, and he begins to loop circles around you in a manner that is almost playful. You don’t bother to hide the awe in your expression as you watch his serpentine lower half undulate through the clear water. 

“Wow.” You breathe, your cheeks stretched wide by your goofy grin. “It’s amazing.”

He must feel your gaze on him, because his lazy looping begins to become more elaborate. The extra flourishes he makes with his tail as he circles you splashes water all over your thighs and stomach. You squeak in surprise, but as you relax again you start to laugh.

“Are you showing off?” You ask with a grin, watching his body roll through the saltwater pool, never straying too far from your surfboard. “You’re just a giant puppy, aren’t you?”

His circling gets faster and faster, until watching him nearly makes you dizzy. It’s a little reminiscent of being stalked by a shark, but you don’t sense any aggression or animosity from him at all. The little hairs standing on end on the back of your neck serve as a reminder that he is, undoubtedly, a predator, but you don’t feel as though he poses any particular threat to you right now. It’s a dangerous game you’re playing, treating him like a harmless puppy dog, but you have a feeling that his bark is probably worse than his bite. At least, you hope so.

“Help me get to the ledge?” You ask, beginning to paddle over. He catches on to where you’re trying to get to almost instantly, and pushes the surfboard effortlessly over to the rocky platform. 

Once you climb out of the water and turn to him, he pushes his upper half up onto the ledge and leans on his folded arms. The intensity of his gaze has lessened, or maybe you’ve just gotten used to it, because it doesn’t feel as though he’s trying to eat you alive with his eyes anymore. His tail swishes through the water, creating gentle waves rippling over the surface as he watches you with a sort of attentive stillness reminiscent of a cat.

“You saved me last time, didn’t you? When I was drowning?” You ask absent-mindedly. Your voice subconsciously takes on the same artificially high-pitched tone you use when you’re talking to animals and babies, but judging by the way his fins rotate downward and flatten to the side of his head he doesn’t like that. “Thank you.”

You’re taking a massive chance even making an attempt to touch him, but you take a deep breath and then hold your breath as you reach out to him. He flinches from your outstretched hand and bares his sharp teeth at you, but there’s no animosity behind it and he makes no move to stop you from placing your hand on the top of his head. His hair is coarse with sea salt, which probably explains its spiky texture, and is still dripping wet. As you ruffle his hair, your fingers curl into the chaotic blond spikes -- though you had originally intended to simply give him a pat on the head, you end up playing with his hair and scratching at his scalp.

You weren’t sure how the creature was going to react to your bold decision to give him head scratches, but he seems to like it -- his eyes go half-lidded and droopy, and he presses his head lightly into your touch. You grin, encouraged by his reaction, and let your hand trail cautiously down to one of his fins. It’s soft to the touch and delicate, with an almost silky smooth slippery texture. It twitches beneath your fingers, and you notice for the first time that the soft orange colour is interspersed with milky streaks of black. 

“Pretty.” you murmur to him, stroking a finger down the length of the fin before returning your hand to his messy mop of hair.

A harsh, rumbling growling sound erupts out of the creature’s chest, and you whip your hand back in shock. The creature’s head jerks up to look at you, equally startled by your sudden movement. It takes you a moment to realise that he wasn’t snarling at you, he was purring.

“Oh!” you breathe, surprised. “You like me playing with your hair?”

The creature obviously doesn’t answer; instead, he reaches out and grabs your wrist, his sharp claws cautiously guiding your hand up to plant right back into his hair. You laugh, startled by his sudden boldness, but obediently start scratching at his scalp again. That snarling, chain-saw like purr starts up again, and you can’t help the breathless giggle that bubbles out of you at the sound of it. 

The minutes tick by as you play with his hair, his grumbling purr echoing throughout the cave. His body has gone mostly lax, with his upper half laid out on the ledge in front of you and his lower half floating in the water. It’s kind of exciting being so close to a creature that could probably kill you with a single swipe of his claws but has instead chosen to let you pet him. Like this, lying relaxed by your legs, you could mistake him for a regular man. So long as you didn’t allow your gaze to drift lower, at least.

Your stomach decides to end the moment by letting out a rumbling growl of its own, which surprises even you since you had eaten before you left your uncle’s house. The creature draws back, squinting suspiciously at your torso.

“Sorry,” you say sheepishly, embarrassed despite yourself, “I’m not actually hungry, my stomach doesn’t know what it’s talking about.”

The creature blinks one of its creepy sideways blinks at you, and then in one quick movement disappears under the water with a flourish of his tail. You catch a streak of colour darting out of the cave and sigh as the water settles, disappointed that the moment has been brought to such an abrupt end by something as stupid as your tummy rumbling when you weren’t even particularly hungry. You settle back and wonder if you should take that as a sign that it’s time to get out of there.

The cave is beautifully peaceful, silent but for the sound of the waves lapping against rock. You could probably stay there for hours, but it doesn’t feel right to be there without the creature; it feels as though you’re infringing on his private territory, somehow, and it makes you feel a little uneasy. In the end, you don’t get much time to overthink -- the creature re-enters the cave nearly soundlessly, and you barely notice his presence until he emerges out of the water and hauls himself up on the rocky platform next to you.

“Oh!” You blurt, startled by the sudden movement. “You’re back!”

The creature doesn’t react to your words at all, instead dropping something in front of your folded legs. You blink at it, bewildered, as it wriggles on the stone platform.

“It’s… a fish.” You point out redundantly, at a loss for anything else to say. When you look back up you find that the creature is watching you carefully, a hint of impatience on his face. He nudges the fish towards you, and you cringe back as the fish flip-flops helplessly. “Gah!”

The creature’s brow drops into a frown, clearly unhappy with your reaction. He pushes the fish towards you more aggressively this time, but when the fish leaps into the air it’s only instinct for you to smack it away in a panic. The fish bounces once and then makes a bid for freedom, jumping straight into the water. The creature snarls and leaps after it.

The poor fish doesn’t stand a chance; the creature snatches it back up within seconds, and then it’s dumped in front of you again. “Uh. I don’t really… want this?” You stare at it, and then lift your head to look at the creature. He’s still frowning, and when you make no move to take the fish he reaches out to pick it up himself with a grunt of obvious irritation. You relax a little once he takes the fish, wondering what the hell that had been about.

Smack.

You screech as the fish slaps into your face, recoiling so violently that you overbalance and fall flat on your back. “What the FUCK!”

The creature rears back, obviously surprised by your reaction and all the yelling. He spits out a hissing sound as the fish makes another escape attempt, and dives after it. You’re too busy scrubbing at your face in disgust to keep track of what the hell he’s doing now, but when something wet and slimy smacks into your arms you realise that he’s just pelted you with the fish again!

“Why would you do that!” You yell, distressed. You would never be able to forget what a fish to the face feels like, now. “Fucking- That’s fucking gross!”

A low grumbling starts in the creature’s chest, but his brow is furrowed and his head is tilted so he doesn’t seem angry. If anything, he just seems confused. The fish is still wriggling where it’s stuck in his clenched, clawed fist, but its movements are getting progressively weaker. 

“Don’t you dare throw that at me again,” you threaten, glaring his way and injecting as much authority into your voice as you can manage, “Or we will have a serious problem.”

Your tone must have been pretty clear, because the creature doesn’t try to launch the fish at your face again. Instead, he lifts the fish up to his own mouth and takes an enormous bite, ripping the head right off and chewing it between his razor-sharp fangs.

You gag at the sight of guts and viscera falling to the cavern floor, and then turn to retch as wet chewing sounds reach you. “Oh fuck, that is nasty. Why? Ah, Jesus-” The creature proffers the chewed up fish carcass, scowling when you turn your face away to gag again. “Stop shoving that at me! I will get sick on you!”

The creature grunts, confused and annoyed by your behaviour. When it becomes clear that you will not be taking the remains of the fish to eat yourself, he tosses the carcass to the side. It lands with a sad little ‘thwunk’ and then lays forgotten as the creature turns back to look at you. Your stomach rolls as he starts to pick raw meat out of his teeth with a clawed fingertip.

“On that note, I think it’s time for me to leave.” You climb to your feet, stubbornly refusing to look at the dead fish. “That’s enough weirdness for me to deal with for one day.” As soon as you make a move for the surfboard, the creature starts making sharp barking noises at you. You turn to scowl at him, irritated, and see that he’s dragged himself after you along the ledge. “What do you want?”

The creature looks almost constipated for a long moment, before he huffs a sharp breath of air out his nose. “Stay.”

It feels like the world stops turning. You think your heart might have actually stopped in your chest. You were surely hallucinating this time. “Did you just speak?”

The creature’s tail lashes impatiently as he scowls up at you from the ground, obviously displeased at your sudden difference in height. “Will you fucking sit down?”

You drop back down to the floor, jaw hanging open. “What the fuck?” You whisper to yourself. It feels as though your brain is functioning several steps behind its usual pace, and all you can do is stare dumbly. “You can fucking talk?”

“Are you an idiot?” The creature snaps at you, scowling. A dusting of light pink blooms high on his cheekbones, “I’m talking right now, aren’t I?”

“I’ve been talking to you this whole time!” You yell, horrified. You cast your mind back desperately, struggling to recall whether you said anything embarrassing at any stage. You definitely have, you just know it. “What the fuck! Why did you never answer?!”

The creature clicks his tongue, and an infuriating little smirk settles over his perfect features. His voice is smug when he speaks next, “I’m a good listener.”

That does it. 

“Oh, fuck you.” You jump to your feet again and march to your surfboard, ignoring the scrabbling sounds against the rock as the creature pulls himself after you.

“Hey! Wait! You said you’d stay, asshole!”

“No, you told me to stay! I never agreed to shit!” You snap, embarrassed and annoyed. You fumble with the board, and the creature takes that moment to shove it away from you. You gasp in outrage as you watch it float out into the middle of the pool, then round on him. “What the hell!”

The creature glares at you, his cheeks stained red. It looks as though he’s seriously struggling with something, until he finally says, “Stay… please.” It sounds as though the word has been forced out of him, like it actually grates him to say it.

You should probably leave. But then again, how many chances in a lifetime are you going to get to meet a fantasy creature (and one that can actually speak to you!). Your curiosity gets the better of you (and the embarrassed but hopeful look on the creature’s face doesn’t help), so you reluctantly sit back down once more. You don’t miss the way he seems to relax a little now that you’re not going anywhere. “Only for a while.” you warn him half-heartedly.

The creature scoffs as if he doesn’t care, as if he didn’t literally just plead with you to stay. “Whatever. Why didn’t you like the fish?”

“The-?” You glance over your shoulder. The fish carcass lies abandoned several paces away, stinking and leaking everywhere. “Uh…”

“I thought you were hungry.” he presses, sounding distinctly as though he’s accusing you of lying.

“You were trying to feed me?” You ask, raising your eyebrows so high they nearly vanish into your hairline. That’s what smacking you in the face with the fish was all about?

The creature’s tail twitches again, sending waves rolling across the surface of the pool. He looks embarrassed, though he’s making a pretty valiant effort at pretending to be unaffected. “Yeah, so what? It’s not my fault that your fingers are all blunt and useless. Can you even kill anything with those?”

You squint down at your fingers, then frown at him. “I don’t know, I’ve never tried! Humans don’t eat raw meat, anyway!”

“Yes, they do!” The creature shoots back, “I’ve heard of sushi!”

That effectively renders you silent as you blink at him. Where had he heard of sushi? “Okay, fine!” You concede grumpily, “Some people eat sushi! That is not the same as catching a fish and eating it live!”

The creature makes a face and lies out on his back, stretching leisurely. “Damn, you’re high maintenance.” He complains, though he doesn’t look all that annoyed. If anything, he looks stupidly pleased with himself. “Whatever. Tell me what you like, then.”

“I don’t know,” You shrug, chewing your lip, “Normal food, I guess. Like, from the store.”

The creature frowns at that, obviously displeased but thinking hard. After a moment he grunts, shrugging. “We’ll work something out.” He says vaguely, then moves on before you can respond. “You’re staying with Aizawa now, right?”

You blink in surprise. “You know my Uncle Shouta?”

“Your uncle?” He asks, avoiding your question.

“Well,” you amend with a shrug, “We’re not blood-related. He’s always been a close family friend. How do you know him?”

The creature shrugs, muscled chest rippling in a way that’s frustratingly distracting. “He’s always hanging around in his stupid little boat.” There’s an underlying current to his voice that sounds like begrudging respect. “He’s helped us out a few times, I guess. He’s alright.”

“‘Us’?” You repeat, eyes wide. “Are there more of… you?” You gesture at his tail, unsure of what to actually refer to him as.

The creature must decide that he’s said too much, because he changes the subject. “What am I supposed to call you, anyway? I can’t keep thinking of you as ‘dumbass’.”

You scoff, slightly offended at that, but tell him your name anyway. “What do I call you?”

“My name is Katsuki,” he grins at you, displaying his rows of very white and very sharp teeth. “But you can call me whatever you like.”

The low, easy rumble of his voice sounds almost flirtatious, and for a long moment all you can do is blink at him. There’s no way you’re reading the situation correctly, you’re sure of it. “Um. Katsuki is fine.”

Katsuki snorts, but doesn’t push the matter. Instead, he rolls onto his side so that he can watch you more closely. His gaze is searingly intense, so much so that you genuinely have difficulty meeting his stare. His attention is overwhelming, and so you find yourself looking around the cavern in an effort to distract yourself. Your surroundings are more or less unchanged from the last time you were here, with one exception -- though the cave was clean before, now it seems to be immaculate. The absence of the bones littering the floor of the pool makes the water seem deeper and clearer, light reflecting off the surface and dancing in ripples along the rocky ceiling. Any seaweed or lichen that had been growing around the rocks or up the walls is gone now, leaving the stone surfaces looking as though they’d been scrubbed clean.

For lack of anything better to say to fill the silence, you say, “Your, uh, cave looks great. Very… tidy.”

Katsuki appears to puff up at that, proud that you noticed. “Yeah? You like it?”

“Oh, yeah. Definitely.” You nod absently. “It’s… um, cozy.”

“Cozy?” Katsuki repeats. He’s edging closer, almost imperceptibly, but the dragging sound his scaly lower half makes on the ground gives him away. His gaze has sharpened, and you feel distinctly hunted.

“Uh,” You laugh, nerves pitching your voice several octaves higher than normal. “Yeah, I guess. That’s some very nice, uh, algae. It really… pulls the room together.”

The algae, in all its phosphorescent glory, is nice, but Katsuki doesn’t turn to look where you’re pointing. The tip of his tail drags in the water, where it thumps softly from side to side. “Want to see the rest of the place?”

Something about his tone of voice has you hesitating; it sounds pointed, as though his words are heavy with significance that you don’t understand. Still, you don’t want to be rude, so you smile nervously and say, “There’s more? Sure, I’d like to see.”

Katsuki inhales sharply through his nose as an anticipatory grin spreads slowly across his face. His features, handsome anyway, are intimidatingly good looking as his cheeks dimple with his smile, and you only have a moment to wonder what exactly you’ve just agreed to before he pushes himself back into the water in one smooth movement. “Come on.” He says, reaching a hand back up to you and waiting impatiently for you to take it. 

You pause for a moment, before throwing any lingering sense of self-preservation to the wind and taking his outstretched hand. He’s mindful of his claws as he helps you into the water, but it’s impossible to miss the way his palms drag over your arms in a way that can’t be mistaken for casual. 

It’s only when you’re floating in the water next to him that you’re able to fully comprehend the sheer size of him. While his torso is mostly human in both shape and proportion, he’s still built like a damn bodybuilder, with solid abs and rolling biceps. Even without the tail he’s pretty big, but with it? You guess it must be about eight feet long, and it curls around you in the water like a thick, dark snake. He smiles at you as he keeps you afloat, and his teeth glint in the low light. It’s border-line terrifying, and for a long moment you wonder if you’ve just made a very serious mistake.

But then his tail undulates and he’s cutting through the water, dragging you with him. You laugh, startled, and cling onto his neck as he swims through the pool and down the mostly concealed passage he had disappeared through the last time.

The passage is completely submerged in water, and narrows before widening into an even larger cavern area. You gasp quietly as you realise that this is definitely his living space.The layout is pretty similar to the previous cavern, with a shelf of rock jutting out of the wall of the cave just above the height of the water, but unlike the previous cavern this rocky shelf is covered in soft dry moss. You wonder if this is where he sleeps.

The luminescent algae is far more plentiful in this part of the cave; it grows all up the walls and along the ceiling, where it glows in the dark like stars. You crane your head all the way back so that you can gaze open-mouthed at it all, awed by the surreal beauty of it. “Wow,” you breathe in delight, “It’s stunning!”

Katsuki grunts out a pleased rumble in response. In the position you’re in, you can feel it vibrate in his chest. When he reaches the platform, he grips you by the hips and boosts you up onto the rock. The sheer strength takes you by surprise, especially considering the way in which his expression hardly changes as he lifts you with ease.

Once you’re comfortably seated on the moss-covered stone, Katsuki heaves himself up to join you. His tail slaps against the water and coils close to your legs, rubbing gently against the skin of your legs. The sensation of wet scales should feel a little gross or uncomfortable against you, but they feel silky soft as they brush your skin. You lay back against the moss, gazing up at the glowing blue algae painted across the ceiling.

“Your home is beautiful.” You murmur, keeping your voice low. It feels as though the moment is fragile, and you don’t want to break the peaceful atmosphere in this little grotto.

Beside you, Katsuki gives a smug little shrug of his shoulders. He’s sitting way too close to you to be entirely casual (his tail is practically draped over you at this stage), but he doesn’t seem to think anything of the closeness so you write it off as a mermaid thing. “Obviously. What, are you fuckin’ surprised?”

You ignore that, sighing happily as you get comfortable. You can feel Katsuki’s gaze settle like a weight over you, but you simply refuse to look over -- lying comfortably on the cushioned cave floor and gazing up at the fantastical luminescence of the walls and ceiling is a kind of peace that you’ve never experienced before. You feel like you could stay like this forever.

However, Katsuki does not like to be ignored. Your attention has only been directed away from him for a few moments before he starts shifting irritably beside you. You can feel the muscles in his tail moving as it rolls, his clawed fingers tapping impatiently against his abdomen. It seems as though he’s waiting for something in particular, but you have absolutely no idea what this could be. 

After another few moments of impatient shuffling, you finally turn your head to frown at him. “Is something wrong?”

Katsuki frowns back at you, and you see a brief hint of uncertainty flash in his eyes before it’s snuffed out. “No. I’m being fucking patient.”

“Patient?” You parrot, confused. “What are you waiting for?”

For the first time, you notice the flush crawling up the back of his neck and spreading over his cheeks. Swearing quietly, he looks off to the side and shuffles a little on the spot. Eventually he speaks again, though he still doesn’t meet your eye. “Am I reading this wrong?”

“Uh-?”

He continues before you can properly answer, his jaw clenched tight. “I tried to show you that I’m a good hunter and a strong opponent, but you didn’t like any of the bones. I wasn’t sure if you were interested or whatever, but then you showed me where you lived.” The emphasis he places on his words makes you realise that there is some special sort of significance that has gone right over your head, “Then you came back to my cave again, so I figured we were on the same page. But then you refused the fish-”

“I-” you start, bewildered, but Katsuki just keeps going as he works himself up into a mini rant.

“-Even though I know you’re hungry! And you said you liked the changes I made to the place after I got rid of the bones, and you kept calling my tail amazing and beautiful and shit-” He ignores the way you choke a little at that, though he seems to run out of steam, “I just-- fucking, tell me if I’m reading this wrong. I don’t know shit about humans. I thought you were accepting my advances.”

Advances? You inhale so sharply that you nearly choke all over again. There’s no way he means what you think he means. There is no damn way. “Are you- are you coming onto me?”

Katsuki stares back at you, before his face crumples into a scowl. “Hah? Are you fucking dumb? I brought you to my living space and gave you bones! I tried to feed you fish! Of fucking course I’m coming onto you!” His voice drops then and takes on an uncertain edge to it, “I thought you were accepting my mating advances.”

Your jaw drops, and you honestly can’t find the strength to close your mouth. Mating advances? “I-” you start, then cut yourself off. It feels like the world has tilted just slightly off to the side, throwing you off-kilter. You have absolutely no idea what to say. “Give me a minute.” You blurt, darting to your feet and turning away from him to pace. 

You quickly encounter a problem, in that there’s nowhere to pace to; the ledge is only so large, so all you can really do is march from the edge to the wall. Overall, it’s only about ten paces long, and the whole time you’re focusing on not slipping on the moss. It doesn’t exactly give you a lot of space to think, but your mind still goes into working overtime.

You sneak a peek at Katsuki -- he’s lounging exactly where you left him, but his eyes are sharp and alert as they follow your movements. Not for the first time, you take notice of how unnaturally handsome he is; his features are perfectly formed, his skin clear and flawless where it stretches and swells over his finely muscled form. He looks like a handsome prince from a storybook, and you hate that you’re feeling sparks of attraction towards someone who’s half fish.

Katsuki clearly notices you looking at him, because he stretches out to display his body in a way that’s distinctly suggestive. You look away quickly, embarrassed at having been caught staring. How would that even work?

You can’t believe you’re even entertaining the idea.

“I’m not gonna fuck a fish.” You breathe, eyes clamped shut. “I’m better than that.”

“Who the fuck are you callin’ a fish?” Katsuki snaps. His tone is heated, but the way the split fins at the end of his tail slap a steady rhythm against the ground reveals his excitement. He must have caught on to the fact that you’re actually considering it, because the fins on the side of his head have begun to wiggle a little in anticipation. “Will you stop overthinking it and come over here?”

You hold onto your pride and dignity for another few seconds before abandoning them altogether and padding back over to him. You fold yourself down into a sitting position in front of him so that you’re facing each other. Katsuki sits up quickly, his lips beginning to turn up in a grin. You ignore the anticipation flashing over his face, and ask, “So, how does this, um, work?”

Katsuki inhales sharply, obviously excited. His fins flap softly against the side of his head. “Let me show you.”

“Right, okay. Yeah.” You say stupidly, eyes widening as Katsuki leans in. Any further rambling is cut short as he presses his lips into yours.

The kiss is a little clumsy at first -- Katsuki is careful with his sharp teeth, but the feeling of them pressing against your mouth sends a little frisson of excited fear down your spine. It’s only when he’s pressed up against you like this that you realise there’s a stark difference in your body temperatures; Katsuki’s skin is cool and soft, which feels amazing pressed against your rapidly heating body.

He pulls away from the kiss, leaving you blinking stupidly after him, and then pushes at your shoulders to guide you down onto your back. The moss underneath you acts like a cushion, so it’s significantly more comfortable than you had been expecting. This ends up being a good thing as Katsuki lowers himself down on you, his weight pinning you to the floor.

“You’re so warm.” He murmurs, nuzzling into your throat before nipping softly at it and snickering when you jerk at the sting. His hands skim over your sides, his clawed fingers dragging harmlessly over your vulnerable skin.

You hate to admit it, but there’s something about the danger of the whole thing that’s really getting you going. You recall the bones that had previously cluttered the whole cave floor, and know that Katsuki not only could rip someone apart if he felt like it, but had done so before.  You squirm beneath him, pressing your thighs together as he kisses at the sensitive junction between your throat and ear.

Apparently unhappy with the position, Katsuki leans back a little so he can pry your legs apart. As soon as you drop your knees open he squirms into the gap and presses himself right along the line of your body, dropping aggressively eager kisses all up your chest and throat. “Take this off.” He rumbles, tugging irritably at the strings to your bikini top.

“Um.” You say, thoughts a little hazy. Every time Katsuki moves the muscles in his tail shift and roll, and his tail is pressed right in between your legs. “Off. Right.”

Katsuki watches as you tug the fabric off, his eyes bright and impatient. No sooner have you tossed your bikini top to the side than he’s on you again, thumbs rolling over your nipples as he pushes his face into your breasts. “What the fuck,” he mutters, squeezing curiously at one breast and licking a stripe over your other one, “You’re so soft.”

 Desperate to touch back, you reach up and run your hands through his salt-coarse hair. When you accidentally brush against one of his head fins, his reaction takes you by surprise – his whole body jolts, pressing into you harshly, and he groans a little into your ear. You do it again, grinning as Katsuki’s hands abandon your tits so he can grab you by the hips.

Maybe your own excitement causes you to forget yourself, but you can’t help but grind your hips up into Katsuki where he’s pressed in between your legs. Katsuki laughs a breathless, snarling laugh before grinding back into you, the base of his tail just under where his human half ends pressed flush against your covered pussy. Katsuki, still gripping you by the hips, grinds repeatedly against you – the scales on his tail create an almost ribbed texture, and every time they drag over the front of your bikini bottoms you can’t help but twitch your hips back against them.

It doesn’t escape your notice that you’re virtually dry-humping a merman on the floor of a cave, but you simply push that aside for now; you can feel yourself getting wet, and you know that most of your critical reasoning skill go out the window when you’re horny.

You’re so distracted by the nipping, stinging kisses and the way Katsuki’s tail grinds and wiggles against you that it takes a very long moment to realise that the feeling of his tail pressing against you has… changed, somehow. You pull back, breathing a little heavy, and look down to try and see what’s different, but Katsuki is pressed so closely to you that you can’t see past his chest. You don’t get a chance to look properly, either, because then Katsuki begins to slide down your body until his head is between your legs.

He tugs at your bikini bottoms, but his inexperience with legs becomes clear as he tries and fails to successfully remove them. “Fucking- take these off!”

You snort at his impatience, but obediently wiggle your way out of them. It’s actually a relief to be out of the wet swimwear, but you don’t have much time to appreciate it before Katsuki’s face is in between your legs and pressed right up to your now exposed pussy. He inhales deeply as you squirm, mortified. “Don’t- stop fucking sniffing me there, oh my god!”

“Hah?” he squints up at you, “Why?”

“It’s embarrassing!”

Katsuki frowns, clearly not understanding what the big deal was. “You smell good.”

You’re pretty sure that you don’t, considering virtually nobody’s genitals smell good (especially not after being trapped in a damp swimsuit for hours), but his tone is so matter-of-fact that you can’t bring yourself to argue. He doesn’t wait for a response anyway, burying his face between your thighs again and huffing as he inhales your scent. You cover your face out of sheer embarrassment, but don’t make any effort to pull away.

When his tongue starts to prod at your clit, your whole body jerks in surprise. His tongue is cool, a stark contrast to the heat pooling in your folds, and it feels startlingly good as it squirms against you. Your hips twitch and chase after his touch, but he keeps you firmly in place with his grip on your hipbones.

“Humans are pretty different down here,” Katsuki says conversationally, his words vibrating against your pussy lips. “I’ve never seen anything like this.”

“Oh yeah?” you say absently. Your thighs flex around his head from the effort of not clamping down hard around his skull.

He hums, then licks at your slit unashamedly. He grins, apparently pleased with the taste. “I’ll get used to it.”

“Can you- there’s, um, a spot. Higher up. Could you-?”

Katsuki doesn’t take direction particularly well, and it takes a couple of moments for him to actually locate your clit. When he does find it though, he licks and sucks at it so eagerly that your back actually bows right off the ground.

“Shit!” You gasp, wriggling against Katsuki’s face. “Oh!”

Encouraged by your noises, Katsuki just doubles his efforts. The wet, slurping noises are obscene, and your moans echo around the cavern in a way that sounds distinctly eerie; you’re so thankful that there’s no one else around for miles to hear.

“You’re so warm,” Katsuki murmurs, sounding slightly breathless, “Are you this hot on the inside, too?”

“Oh god.” You whimper, head swimming. Without even really knowing what you’re asking for, you whisper, “Please.”

Katsuki perks up at that, then drags himself back up so that his face is level with yours once more. This close, you can see how shiny his face is after being buried against your wet pussy for so long. When he kisses you, you can taste yourself on his tongue. It makes you whimper again, pressing into him eagerly. Katsuki is breathing pretty hard too, and when he presses his torso against you, he groans long and low.

This time, with the base of his tail pressed against the bare flesh of your cunt, you know for sure what you’re feeling; there’s an honest to god bump that definitely wasn’t there before, right where you might expect a dick on a human male. Katsuki notices where your attention is straying to, and brings one of his own hands down to massage the bump. It’s only then, as you peer closer to get a better look at what he’s doing, that you see what looks like a vertical slit positioned a few inches down from where his human half ends and his tail begins. His clawed fingers dance around it, rubbing at the swollen flesh around it without touching the slit itself.

Your curiosity gets the better of you, and you reach out your hand to stroke at the same place Katsuki is. The pads of your fingers run over the textured scales, earning a soft grunt as he presses eagerly into your touch. You repeat the same massaging motions Katsuki was doing, and as you watch, the slit seems to open wider.

It happens slowly, then all at once. As you rub at the sides of the opening, the tip of what appears to be Katsuki’s penis begins to slowly distend. You nearly pull back from surprise, but then Katsuki lets out a quiet, soft little moan, and you can’t bring yourself to pull away from him. You run the tip of your index finger around the inside of the slit, and find that it’s soft and almost rubbery, reminiscent of what you imagine sealskin must feel like. At your touch, his penis extends the rest of the way.

 You blink, then sit back. “Oh.” You say stupidly, gazing at his dick.

Katsuki straightens up and sits back smugly, clearly proud of what he was packing. He seems to miss your growing alarm entirely. “Like what you see?”

You purse your lips and take a moment to collect your thoughts. “It… moves.” You say faintly.

Katsuki doesn’t look very impressed with your analysis of his penis. “Yeah. Obviously. C’mere.” 

His dick is significantly pinker than his own skin tone, thick at the base and then narrowing along the length. It’s big, uncreased and smooth, and when you wrap your palm around it (ignoring Katsuki’s desperate thrust into your fist) you find that it has the same almost rubbery texture as the skin around the slit. It’s just a few shades warmer than the rest of his body, though still significantly cooler than a human; it’s odd, holding a dick that feels almost cool to the touch.

Katsuki’s tail lashes agitatedly at the ground behind him, though he doesn’t do much more than press a little harder into your hand. “Done looking?” he grinds out, clearly beginning to run out of patience.

“No.” You say absently, giving his dick a few pumps and watching him hunch over with a choked moan. His dick is practically prehensile, and wriggles in your hand like it has a mind of its own.

It’s completely unnerving and alien and really, really weird, and you hate yourself because all you can do is wonder how it would feel inside of you.

“Y/N,” Katsuki grunts, his tail slapping agitatedly against the floor behind him, “Can I? Please, can I?” The please sounds as though it’s been pulled unwillingly from him, though it seems no less genuine because of that, and he leans down to nip impatiently at your shoulder.

“Yeah.” You breathe, relinquishing your hold on his dick and watching it slap against his abdomen. You lie back onto the moss, breath hitching as Katsuki eagerly drags himself up the length of you.

 The sensation of his thick heavily muscled tail nestling in between your legs and shifting with every one of Katsuki’s little movements has your head swimming, and your knees fall open even wider. His head drops to your chest and his mouth latches onto one of your nipples, humming as your head falls back with a pleased sigh. You can feel the hardness of his cock on the inside of your thigh, can feel the tip of it moving just slightly, tracing the sensitive flesh close to the crease of your hip.

When Katsuki looks up to meet your eyes, you’re not prepared for the level of franticness in his gaze. He looks needy, his proud features twisted in desperation even as his eyes burn. “I’m going to mate you now.”

“Okay.” You say dumbly, clutching weakly at the moss beneath you.

The tip of Katsuki’s dick is unexpectedly soft as it presses into you, and far slicker than you had expected. You peer down at his hips, and notice for the first time that the slit that his penis is protruding from is leaking some sort of membranous fluid. You wonder if maybe you should feel grossed out by that, considering the foreign fluid is being pressed inside of you, but all your brainpower is being diverted to the slow, wet slide of his dick stretching you open.

Katsuki moans, long and low, as he clutches at your hips. “Fuck!” he hisses, baring his rows of sharp teeth. He’s obviously trying very hard to hold himself back and enter you slowly, but he’s practically trembling from the effort.

“Okay, okay, okay.” You chant, breathing heavily. Katsuki’s dick is big, and the pressure of the stretch is just bordering on painful despite the slick slide. You wonder if you’re going to feel the ache of this for days or weeks.

And then he’s all the way in, the rough, textured scales of his tail pressed flush against the backs of your thighs. Both of you have to take a moment, panting. The pain of the stretch begins to fade, and you begin to feel like you’re just on the right side of full.

You want to feel Katsuki move, and so you wrap your thighs around his hips. The scales scratch a little at the delicate skin on the inside of your thighs, but it’s so worth it for the way Katsuki groans, and the way the fins on the side of his head flap minutely. One of his palm’s plants itself firmly in the moss by your head, the other clasped tightly over your hip.

The muscles in his tail ripple and his dark scales flash in the low light as he pulls his hips back only to slide back in, smooth and fast. It’s hard to catch your breath, because the slickness of his cock sliding in and out of you is at once foreign and desperately arousing. Katsuki seems to feel the same way, because his mouth is dropped open and his brow scrunched, eyes half-lidded as he humps into the slippery heat of your pussy.

“You’re so hot,” he groans out with a huff as his hips stutter, “Feels like you’re burnin’ me.”

Dazedly, you sympathise with him; his body is several degrees lower than your own body temperature, and the coolness of his dick inside of you has every one of your nerves hyper-aware and attuned to it. It feels beautifully refreshing against your own heated flesh, the contrast almost overwhelming.

Katsuki pets absently at your hip and thigh as his thrusts begin to come faster and harder; he builds up a steady rhythm, one that seems to seek as deep inside of you as possible and quickly renders you speechless. The only sound filling the cave is the wet slapping sounds from where Katsuki is pounding into you and the grunts and pants and moans that each of you make without shame.

You feel each thrust and slippery slide inside of you so acutely, as if every one of your nerve-endings is straining towards him. The texture of his cock inside you feels so alien, and you could swear you feel it actually aiming for the spot inside of you that makes your limbs turn to jelly. You wonder if your own body feels as strangely foreign to him; you’re guessing it does, judging by the way he pants and humps into you with that wild look in his eyes. Or maybe that’s just how he usually is during sex. It’s not like you have any sort of frame of reference for sex with mermaids.

You reach down to rub at yourself, jolting a little as your warm fingertips come into contact with your heated clit – you’ve become adjusted to the cooler body temperature of Katsuki,  and now your own warmth almost feels like too much. You wonder how the heat of your cunt isn’t completely overwhelming for him, but considering the dark flush overtaking his face and chest and shoulders, and the way that his jaw hangs open and his eyes have gone glassy, you think maybe it is.

He hikes your thighs further up on his waist without pausing his thrusting, the scales scraping oddly along your bare calves. “I’m gonna-” he grunts, pushing his face into your necks as his tail slaps harshly against the ground every time he fucks into you, as if he’s lost control over it.

You rub harder and faster at your clit, gasping as Katsuki bites down on the tender skin of your throat. It’s not hard enough to break the skin, and seems more like he’s trying to keep you in one place, but the threat of his sharp teeth against such a vulnerable part of you sends you hurtling towards the edge.

It only takes a few more strokes, and another twist of his cock against your g-spot, before you come hard and silently, open-mouthed and wide-eyed.

“Fuck, yes.” Katsuki groans throatily into your neck, his movements only becoming increasingly intense. It feels as though he’s trying to plow you right through the rock (which is actually an incredible turn-on, though you don’t want to admit it) and you whimper and gasp as you begin to pass into the realm of oversensitivity.

Katsuki’s upper body goes taut as his powerful tail pushes him forward into you one last time, so deep that you swear you feel the tip of his dick moving against your cervix, and then he comes with an honest to god snarl. You sigh as you feel the slick gush of his cum inside of you, thicker than you’d expected, and flop bonelessly once you know he’s done.

“Holy shit,” You breathe, staring wide-eyed at the cave ceiling. The glowing algae twinkles back at you as Katsuki breathes slowly and deeply into your neck, his thick arms winding around your waist and shoulders. As the haze of your orgasm begins to fade and reality starts to set in again, you’re struck with the fact that you’ve just fucked a mythical creature, and his very weird fish dick is still inside of you. “Oh my god.”

Katsuki grunts, clearly not pleased that you’re ruining his afterglow with delayed panic. “Shhh, s’fine.” He mumbles, rubbing at the bitemark on your neck in what he apparently thinks is a reassuring manner, “You’re mine – ain’t nobody gonna hurt you.”

The two of you are clearly on different wavelengths, but you don’t bother to think to much about that particular statement. “I just fucked a fish.” You breathe. It sounds just as ridiculous out loud as it did in your head.

“You liked it, too.” Katsuki says smugly, not denying the fish part this time around.

“Dickhead! Get off me!” You say irritably, embarrassment beginning to sink in.

“No.” Katsuki mumbles childishly, snuggling into your neck and holding you tight so you can’t struggle. His dick shifts inside of you, and he grunts as you automatically clench down around it. “Stay.”

The moss is comfortable, the cave is pretty, and Katsuki’s arms around you feel better than you’d like to admit. You relax, the weight of him laying on you more soothing than you had expected, and close your eyes. “My uncle is gonna kill me.” You say, an afterthought flitting through your mind. He was so worried the last time you disappeared into the sea like that, you can only imagine what he’s going to say once you come home late after doing it again.

Katsuki snorts and kisses the base of your throat, and you feel like you could probably lie in this cave forever, listening to the sound of the ocean ebbing and flowing just outside the rocky walls. “If he’s gonna kill you,” he murmurs, lips dragging over your skin, “I’d hate to see what he’d do to me.”

[dreamerstreamer]

Rain, Rain, Go Away

Pairing: Ranboo & gn!reader (platonic)

Summary: [Dream SMP!AU] Ranboo’s memory may not be the best, but that doesn’t mean he’s not your best friend. Sometimes, you just wish he remembered to do to some things—like not get stuck in the rain.

Word Count: 4.1k

A/N: at last, some appreciation for my favourite enderman! let’s give this awkward, polite, tall child some love :) i tried a different writing approach to writing this, so please pardon the fact that there’s less dialogue in this one.

You let out a small gasp as your eyes scanned the page in front of you, your toes curling in your shoes as you swallowed. Your fingers curled a little tighter around the spine of the book. You could not believe that just happened—they couldn’t just throw your favourite character into prison like that!

Chewing on your bottom lip, you sank back against the bench seat, you huffed as you set your book down face-up on your lap. Whatever. He’ll probably just break out, anyways.

Leaning back slightly, you stretched your arms out above you with a soft groan, your bones cracking with a satisfying pop. Relaxing once more, you blinked at the space around you while a soft breeze caressed the side of your face. It was a beautiful day out, but Ghostbur had told you earlier that it was probably going to rain, soon.

“How can you tell?” you had asked him once.

He had shrugged at you, humming aloud with a thoughtful look. “The sky just seems a little sad, don’t you think?”

You had glanced up at the clear, boundless blue expanse lying above you, your lips curling into a small frown. “I dunno. Looks pretty happy to me.”

“That’s the thing,” Ghostbur had said, flashing you that soft, ghostly smile of his. “It may look happy, but there’s more than what meets the eye.”

While you supposed he had a point, you still didn’t quite understand how he could tell it was going to rain. It must be me his ghostly senses, you thought to yourself, swinging legs back and forth on the bench, your heels dragging along the slightly dewy grass. That, or maybe he’s officially lost it. You wrinkled your nose. Can ghosts even go crazy? Is that a thing?

You shook your head. Crazy or not, Ghostbur was never wrong when he said it was going to rain—you weren’t about to start doubting him, now.

Above you, the sky was still as clear as ever, the sun cresting high above you as its warm rays shone down on you. Just how long had you just spent reading? It felt like you hadn’t talked to anyone in ages, now.

Just then, something moved in the corner of your eye, and you turned your head, blinking.

A head of black and white hair bobbed along the distance, the figure slowly growing closer and closer until you could clearly make out the face attached to it. The moment you did, a wicked smile shot across your face, and you opened your mouth.

“Hey, Ranboob.”

Ranboo froze at the sound of your voice, raising his head only for a look of horror to pass through his eyes as realization sunk in. “Not you, too.” Exasperation tinged his voice as his eyebrows curved downward. “Have you been talking to Tommy, again?”

You simpered with a coy gleam in your eye, tracing a finger over the edge of a page. “Maybe.”

Crossing his arms over his chest, a long sigh fell from his lips. He strode up to you, stopping a few feet away to stare you down. “I came out here to have a good time,” he said lowly, “and I’m feeling very attacked, right now.”

You raised an eyebrow at him, your smile widening slightly. “Quoting stale memes now, are we?”

He lifted his chin at you, his expression firm. “Stale or not, it’s fitting for my current situation.”

You blinked at him, then shrugged. “Fair enough.” Picking up your bookmark from its spot on your lap, you swiftly slid it in between the pages of your book, letting the pages fall shut with a satisfying clap. “So,” you said, peering up at him, “what are you up to, right now?”

“Well, I kind of wanted to go exploring for a while. You know, see some new sights, get a break from—” He shivered. “—politics.”

A laugh bubbled out of your throat, and you caught the way his lips curled up at the sound. “A 2-in-1 deal then, huh? Sounds good to me.” You leaned back, your eyes pointing up at the sky above. “Ghostbur said it was going to rain, though.” Furrowing your brows, you shot him a worried look. “Are you sure you’re gonna be okay?”

He jutted a thumb over his shoulder, rocking back and forth on his heels with a nod. “I’m heading home to grab my helmet, actually.” When you narrowed your eyes at him, he waved a hand at you. “Don’t worry—I’ll be safe, I swear.”

You cocked your head at him, a hopeful look flickering across your face. “But we’re still baking potatoes later, right? At four o’clock?”

He nodded, an earnest smile tugging at his lips. “Of course. I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

You grinned at him, wide and giddy as you lifted one hand in a wave. With the other, you opened your book once more, tugging the bookmark out and placing it on the space beside you. “Awesome. Take care, now.”

Turning on his heel, he waved over his shoulder, sending you a reassuring grin. “Will do.”

Ranboo was a few yards away when your eyes widened, a sudden thought barreling into you. Slamming your book shut, you shot to your feet, whipping around with a hand cupped around your mouth. “And do not forget,” you shouted, your voice ringing across the air, “you hear me?”

Stopping in his tracks, Ranboo turned, a smile stretched across his face as he called back, “Loud and clear!”

With a relieved sigh, you lowered your arm, watching as he darted down the path toward his house. You sat down on the bench with a hum, casting your gaze down at your book only to freeze. Then, you let out a long groan.

You forgot to put your bookmark back.

Grumbling quietly to yourself, you pulled back the cover, scouring the pages with a glower as your bookmark stared back at you tauntingly.

At least you had something to look forward to this afternoon.

Ranboo strolled through his house with a soft hum, unlocking chests here and there to dig around and stuff things into his pockets. Food, check. Sword, check. Map, check. He blinked, tapping his foot. Am I missing anything?

He paused for a long moment, blinking down at the items lying in front of him before snapping his fingers, letting out a quick, “Aha!” Scrambling to his feet, he rushed to the other side of the room, leaning up against the wall to pluck the clock out of its frame. How could he not remember to bring a clock? After all, he had to be back in time to bake potatoes with you.

Slipping the clock into his pocket with a quiet hum, he turned back to the table where he had laid everything out. Clock, check. Is that everything? He squinted for a moment, staring at the open chest pressed up against the wall as the wheels in his head slowly turned.

A moment passed, then two.

He felt like he was forgetting something.

Didn’t you tell him something—reminded him of something? He wrinkled his brow, staring long and hard at the top of shoes. What could it possibly be? He was pretty sure it was something along the lines of... something, something... sky?

Ranboo lifted his head, his eyes trailing over to the window with confusion swimming through his eyes. Just outside, the sky was bright and vibrant, not a single cloud to be seen. There hadn’t been such a clear day in weeks, now.

You must have just said something about how nice the weather was, today—he was sure of it.

Moving quickly and surely, Ranboo slipped his belongings into his pockets, making sure to strap the sword to his back before stepping outside, a soft breeze immediately caressing the side of his face.  He took in a deep breath, feeling the cool summer air fill his lungs. With sunlight dancing on his cheeks, he felt his lips quirk up into a small smile.

It was time to explore.

Ranboo gazed up at the towering trees with a soft gasp, shielding his eyes from the dappled sunlight flitting across his face with his hand. People said he was abnormally tall, but when he was surrounded by trees as big as this, he just couldn’t believe that to be true.

Ducking under a low hanging branch, he let out a whistle as he stepped into a sudden clearing, a short stump lying in the center. The sunlight almost seemed to shine a spotlight atop the cut wood, and he found himself immediately walking up to it and sitting down. With one hand, he lifted his sword from his back and tossed it onto the ground. With the other, he pulled out a carrot from his pocket and took a bite, glancing around him with curious eyes.

He had never even known that there was a spruce forest in this area. Maybe he should go exploring more often instead of spending so much time thinking about countries and borders and allegiances and—

A shiver ran down his spine, and Ranboo shook his head. Now was not the time to think about all that.

For a few minutes, Ranboo simply sat and chewed, stretching out his legs. He watched as a pair of foxes darted between the trees, their orange, bushy tails swishing behind them as they ran off into the bushes. He smiled at the sight, finishing his carrot. He had to tell Fundy about them later.

All of a sudden, something wet dropped onto the bridge of his nose, and he let out a sharp yelp while leaning back. He slammed a hand over his face, not quite realizing how far he had leaned back before he was suddenly lying face first on the ground, crashing into the earth. Letting out a groan, he lifted his head, rubbing at his nose.

The skin burned where he touched it like a hot ache, and Ranboo scrunched his face. What in the world was that? Tilting his head back to look up, his breath hitched in his throat at the sight that met his eyes.

The once clear, blue sky was now overcast with dark, stormy clouds, their hazy appearance overshadowing their softness.

He squinted for a moment, desperation stirring in his veins. It wasn’t raining, was it? It couldn’t be. You would have told him if it was going to rai—

Ranboo froze, then let out a long sigh. “I,” he said aloud to himself, his low voice ringing out in the quiet forest, “am an idiot.”

You did tell him, didn’t you? That must have been what he had forgotten—that, and his helmet.

He paused again, furrowing his brow. Wait, no. There was something else too, something else he was forgetting.

With a huff, he pushed himself onto its feet, screwing his eyes shut as he pressed a hand to his temple and ran through the jumbled mess of memories in his head. He remembered walking down the prime path and seeing you on the bench... you had called him Ranboob, asked where he was going, and...

His eyes flew open, a low, sinking feeling settling in his gut.

Potatoes. He was supposed to bake potatoes with you at four.

Without even an inkling of hesitation, Ranboo shoved his hand into his pocket, frantically fishing around for a moment before pulling out his clock, his eyes widening.

It was four eleven.

You were so going to kill him.

All of a sudden, another wet droplet landed on the top of his head, and Ranboo let out a quiet shriek, feeling his scalp grow hot with the same, uncomfortably familiar burning sensation as earlier. Whipping around, Ranboo swept his eyes across the clearing. He wasn’t going to make it back in time now, at least not without possibly dying. For now, he had to find something—anything—to hide under.

Something burned against his backside, and Ranboo didn’t need to turn around to know what it was, far too busy turning this way and that. But no matter where he looked, all he could see were tall, looming spruce trees, there branches too spaced out separated to serve as even remotely sufficient shelter.

Just then, another raindrop splashed onto his shoulder. Then another fell on his arm. Then another dropped onto his foot.

With each passing second, the rain grew heavier and heavier, more and more droplets landing on him and leaving his body aching all over. Ranboo gritted his teeth, his chest heaving with wracking, wet breaths. Choking back a pained cry, his hand desperately clutched at the front of his now damp and soggy shirt.

He was so, so screwed.

You stared at the empty baking tray sitting on your kitchen counter, your eyes darting back and forth between it and the clock on your wall. After a few moments, you let out a groan, smacking your head against the counter.

It was four fifteen.

Ranboo was late.

Admittedly, it was only by fifteen minutes, but late was late.

You turned your head so that your cheek was smushed against the counter, the coolness seeping into your skin as you glared at the sack of potatoes sitting on the opposite side of the kitchen. Ranboo was a punctual guy—he was almost never late, and if he was, it was never by a landslide, or anything.

Lifting your head, you nodded to yourself, feeling yourself fill with resolve. Yes, that was it—he was surely going to show up soon! In the meantime, you could always just read some more of your book.

Abandoning your baking, you were soon curled up on your couch once more, your book clutched between your fingers as you drank in the rest of the story. You were right—your favourite character did break out of prison.

Although you were engrossed in your novel, you slowly found your eyes returning to the clock every few minutes, anxiety gnawing away at you. Everything’s fine, you reasoned with yourself, flipping to the next page with a nervous glance. Ranboo’ll turn up soon.

But soon enough, twenty minutes passed with no sign of Ranboo.

Then thirty.

Then forty.

By the time an hour had gone by, you found yourself staring out the window, your lips pursed and your eyebrows furrowed in worry. The rain ran down along the glass panes like tiny rivers, and you could hear it pattering against your roof. Beside you, your book lay abandoned facedown on the couch. Is he okay? you wondered, clenching your jaw. Did something happen?

You didn’t let yourself think about it for a moment longer, shutting your book and setting it onto the coffee table before getting to your feet, your eyes narrowed. If Ranboo wasn’t going to come to you, it looked like you were simply going to have to get him yourself.

It only took you a few moments to grab your jacket from its spot on the hanger and tug it on, your fingers deftly buttoning the front while you muttered to yourself. “He probably forgot we were hanging out, didn’t he?”

Rolling your eyes to yourself, you walked up to your front door, your hand reaching for the handle when you paused. A grimace stretched across your face, and your gaze shifted toward the coffee table.

You forgot your bookmark, again.

You stared at your closed book for a moment longer, then scoffed, twisting the door open. Who cared about some book when your best friend was missing? You had your priorities straight.

Flipping your hood over your head, you rushed down the path, splashing past puddles and damp grass as you raced toward Ranboo’s house, grumbling. Keeping you waiting for half an hour was one thing, but two? This called for some serious retribution.

When you arrived, you didn’t bother to knock before pushing the front door open, your mouth already open in a shout. “Ranboo?” you cried, your eyes taking in the room. “Are you there?”

There was a beat of silence, then you frowned. Now he’s ignoring me? Rude.

Slipping off your shoes, you stepped inside, ducking your head around as you searched for him. But it was only after a few moments that it was obvious that he wasn’t home, and you were alone. Blinking, you stared at the open chest near the wall and the empty frame attached to the space above the door.

Is he... still outside? you thought carefully. Your bit your lip, crossing your arms over your chest. There’s no way. I specifically told him that it was going to rain today. You paused, your frown deepening. Unless...

Stifling a sigh, you slowly turned until your eyes landing on the armour stand sitting in the corner of his room. Your jaw dropped.

He forgot his helmet.

You didn’t even have to think about it before you were ripping the helmet off the stand and diving for Ranboo’s open chest, immediately pulling out a handful of regeneration potions and stuffing them into your pockets. Maybe this was considered stealing, but in that moment, you couldn’t care less.

“He is so dumb,” you whined in a panicked tone, pulling your shoes back on and kicking down the door. “I cannot believe him.”

In a flash, you were sprinting down the hill that led outside L’Manburg, Ranboo’s helmet bouncing along at your side. He said he was going exploring, you remembered, panting to yourself as you tried not to slip on the wet ground, so he must be somewhere in the wilderness.

You were about to turn the corner when a figure came into sight from the side, blond locks bobbing along the side of your vision. At the sound of footsteps, Tommy lifted his head, sending you a bright grin as he waved. “Hey, [Y/N]!” His eyes fell down to your hand, and his eyebrows knit together. “Is that Ranboo’s helme—”

“No time to explain!” you shouted, barreling past him without even a second glance.

Tommy made a face as you passed, his cerulean eyes following after you. “Wait, what the f—”

But by then, you were already long gone, leaving Tommy behind to swim in a puddle of confusion and unanswered questions.

Ranboo huddled further against the tree trunk, his back digging into the bark as he wrapped his arms tighter around himself where he sat. Above him, the branches rustled, and a raindrop whizzed past his face, sliding down the side of his arm. Bristling, he let out a small whimper, his nails digging into his palms.

This was probably the most pathetic situation he’d ever been stuck in.

He could feel the back of his eyes sting with unshed tears, and he sucked in a shaky breath. He half-wanted to cry, but he knew he couldn’t let that happen. He could already imagine the way his cheeks would burn at the feeling of his tears flowing down his face. Crying would only make everything even worse than it already was.

To think that of all the days he could forget something you said, it just had to be today. God, just how bad of a friend was he to get stuck in the rain even after you told him to bring his helmet, let alone forget about hanging out with you?

He buried his face into his knees, squeezing his eyes shut with a ragged breath. He really was awful.

Suddenly, a distant voice pulled him out of his thoughts.

“Ranboo?”

He whipped his head up at the sound of his name, eyes wide as he scanned the clearing. “[Y/N]?” he shouted.

Just then, you burst through the bushes, stumbling forward. Before you could stop yourself, you found your shoe catching on the tree stump he had been sitting on earlier, and he winced as you toppled headfirst into the ground with a crash.

“A-Are you okay?” he asked, concern etched onto his features.

You quickly pulled yourself up from the ground, completely ignoring the mud staining your pants. “I should be the one asking you that,” you said in a blur, rushing over to him with a focused gaze.

Ranboo could only gape at you with a stunned look as you crouched down in front of him. “How—how did you even find me?” he sputtered, his head still reeling at the sight of you. “This forest is hundreds of blocks away.”

You deadpanned at him. “Lots, and lots, and lots of running.” You gestured to your dirty shoes, soaked with rain and mud all over. “My feet are kind of killing me, right now.”

He winced, his voice growing quiet. “I’m sorr—”

You raised a hand. “Ah, ah, ah. This comes first.” Pulling his helmet out from behind you, you immediately slammed it atop his head, easily making sure it was securely attached to his skull. “Also,” you added, burying a hand into your coat pocket, “drink this.”

Without missing a beat, you pulled out a potion of regeneration and shoved it toward him. As his hand clasped around the glass bottle, Ranboo opened his mouth, only to close it at the stern look you gave him. Swallowing, he removed the cork and lifted the potion to his lips, the sweet liquid pouring down his throat. In an instant, the burning of his skin subsided, and he felt his shoulders relax.

At his calm expression, your eyes finally softened, and you nearly sagged against him in relief. “Feeling any better?”

Capping the empty bottle, he let it drop to the damp grass as he nodded, but something sad flickered across his gaze. “Yeah, but...”

The words were flying out of your mouth in a flurry, and you already reaching for your pockets again. “Did you still need anything?” You pulled out another potion. “I, um, didn’t bring a lot of stuff with m—”

Ranboo shook his head, and you fell silent. “No, no, it’s not that, it’s just...” He paused, and sucked in a deep breath, his voice coming out fragile and cracked. “I’m really sorry, [Y/N].” He curled his legs closer to his chest, and he suddenly looked very, very small as his words came out in a mess of choked out syllables. “I forgot we were going to hang out and I just couldn’t remember and then it was raining which I also forgot you told me about and now you must hate m—”

Before he knew it, your arms were wrapped around him, your head pressed against his as you softly crooned. “Shh, Ranboo, stop. I’m here, okay? And I would never hate you for something like that.” You patted your hand against his sopping back, and felt him melt into your touch. “I’m just glad you’re alright.”

He pulled away from you, his lips parted in surprise. “Really?”

You smiled, sincere and true. “Really.”

Just as a slow, shaky smile spread across his lips, you suddenly realized how quiet it was. Turning, you peeked up at the sky once more, your eyebrows raising at the sight of a clear, blue sky. The rain had finally stopped.

“Well,” you said, your smile widening, “would you look at that.” Then, you blinked, and frowned down at your dirty shoes. “Dang. That means I got all muddy for nothing.” You saw Ranboo wince again, but you merely shrugged, getting back onto your feet. “Oh, well. Enough of that. Let’s get going, instead.”

For a moment, Ranboo simply stared at you as you dusted off your front, a soft, affectionate warmth filling his chest. Then, he spoke. “Thank you for coming to get me,” he said so softly you almost missed it. “I really am sorry.”

You paused, then smiled at him again. “And I really do forgive you.” Stretching your hand out toward him, you tilted your head. “Now, stop thinking about it, okay? I promise I’m not mad.”

Ranboo hesitated for a second, then slipped his hand into yours, letting you tug him up onto his feet with a grateful grin. “Okay.”

Once he was upright once more, you clapped your hands together. “C’mon, let’s go back to my place. I’ve got some bandages you can use. Besides,” you said, shooting him a cheeky wink, “we still have some potatoes to bake.” You shivered, sticking your tongue out in disgust. “I also need to do some laundry.”

Laughter bubbled up his throat, lighthearted and pure as the two of you strode out of the forest, the sun shining down on you as you made your way home.

Ranboo might be forgetful, but he was sure he wouldn’t ever forget the important things—things like you.

[marvellovegalore]

Hurting you

Chris Evans

Part Une - Loving You

Synopsis: You encounter your lost love Christopher and you talk about how you've done something awful.

Word Count: 1,954

Author note: This part is the follow-up to my latest write up, which I realise didn't garner much attention, but a second part was requested. Strongly advised to read part one.

Warning: Explicit Language, Mention of Drugs

Champagne showers your throat, its cool bubbles rippling inside you and all the way down your body. Your hips sway as you make your way through the tightly packed group of people. Laughter surrounds you as you re-join the dancing fray. A green-eyed model grabs you around the waist, his hands grabbing the thin material of your dress. The end of your dress dances over your high-heeled feet, you twist in the model’s arms and sway against him. Your back presses against him and he holds you tighter.

He whispers something in your ear, something or another about leaving with him to ‘fuck’ on the beach. You barely hear it over the music. Your eyes scanning over your friends that are sprawled around the room, all of them dressed in their finest threads. You would have taken him up on the offer, had it not been for the fact that you have been dating a particular Hollywood leading actor. You’d rather not have any outright fight at a party you’re enjoying because of ‘cheating’.

You move away from the model’s tight hold; you can almost hear his sigh. You dance over to a friend who beckons you to come with her to the bar. You gladly follow, reaching the bar takes a few minutes due to the crowd clambering over their drinks. You finally reach the bar; you lounge on the mirrored countertop. The barman approaches you, “Death in the Afternoon.” You wink at him, he smiles politely.

You turn and scan the room your eyes glazing the room, you catch sight of your date, hiding in a nook. He raises a glass to you, and you turn away from him. Drinking the sight of the partying people fills your stomach, many of them can’t help but stare at you, your presence like a diamond in the rough.

And there he is.

Your breath catches in your throat.

His arm draped across the shoulders of a tanned brunette; her eyes unmoving - glued to his. His lips ghost over hers, they way they used to do to your lips; giggles are whispered through her lips. Wearing a full suit with an undone bow tie strung around his neck - he looks like a drunken dream.

You want him.

He hasn’t noticed you. Or is pretending that he hasn’t.

It’s been six months since that night. You barely remember it; you were so intoxicated - on alcohol and Diazepam. An entirely irresponsible mixture, you try to pretend to yourself that you don’t know why you took what you did; but you know why. It was the only way that you had the courage to do what you did. Otherwise, you’d be with—

“One Death in the Afternoon.” The muscular barman places the crystal flute in front of you, you let a smirk grace your lips. If you weren’t in the same room as your date, you’d fuck him. But you’re trying to change.

You turn back in his direction, your friend also spots him, she promises that she’ll do everything to keep you guys apart. Your friends and family were informed of an amicable break-up with tears shed on both sides - by him. The media reported something similar - both PR teams sending well wishes to the other party and asking for privacy for those involved.

You weren’t aware of the amicable breakup until the email was forwarded to you by your PR head. You had blocked his number, but he had blocked you in every other way possible; you won’t pretend that it was unwarranted. Nor will you pretend that it didn’t hurt, but you couldn’t begin to imagine how much he was hurt.

You’ve done worse, but you don’t think you’ve ever done it to someone you actually loved.

You find yourself back in the folie of dancing, your dress billowing around your legs, its silky touch caressing your skin. You catch sight of the tanned brunette entering the dance floor; he’s following her, his hands toying with her waist.

They dance closely, his eyes roaming her body hungrily. You feel like vomiting. This isn’t fair. You close your eyes and knock your head back, willing the horrible sight away. The songs change twice before you open your eyes properly, your eyes immediately lower to where he is. Their lips are locked, their eyes shut off from the party, his hands dance on her arse.

You are most definitely going to throw up.

You rush away from the crowd, attracting concerned gazes, brushing off the offers of help, you finally manage to leave the house. You edge towards the pool and double over, you dry heave over the grass. You will the vomit up, but it is to no avail. You move away from the tennis style grass and make your way through the garden. Your walk leads you to the sea just beyond the expansive garden. The sky is a warm umber, the setting sun barely visible.

You don’t know how long you’ve been stood there, but you feel a presence behind you. You pray it’s not your date - demanding you keep him company.

You turn and feel your heart stop.

He looks beautiful. It’s the most undeniable beauty you’ve ever seen. He makes your heart throb.

Your heart swells, a feeling you’ve only ever felt once blanketing your heart.

Longing.

“I don’t think I’ll ever be able to trust someone so much ever again.” His voice is husky, his accent very noticeable. “I couldn’t figure out whether speaking to you would be a good idea, but I really wanted to understand,” he sighs deeply, his fingers whisking out a pack of Marlboros out of his pocket, “even a slither of your psyche.” He lights one cigarette and exhales.

You watch him intently but divert your gaze when he looks at you. “What do you mean?” You whisper. Your courage has left you, and your confidence has set itself on fire.

He nudges the cigarette towards you, “I know you’re more of a vogues girl, but you’re going to have to forgo that right now.” You take the offered cig and pop it in between your lips. It tastes of him somehow and you want to die. “I’ve been fucked up since I left Massachusetts, unbelievably so. I don’t think I’ve ever felt this way.” He takes a tremulous breath.

You’re frozen. The cigarette needing to be ashed, he takes it from your fingers. He takes a swift inhalation. “I may have developed a mild dependency on alcohol… and on you. I can’t go to parties without thinking of you. I can’t get out of bed without thinking of you, I can’t breathe — without thinking of you.” His breathing is steady, his words stronger than the wind carried by the sea. You can’t breathe, his words taking the majority of your oxygen, he hands you back the cigarette.

“If I hadn’t done it then, you would have done it first.” You shiver with the cold breeze from the surf. If you could choose between kissing him or dissipating, you would choose to dissipate right into the sand.

His eyes flash across to you, his irises seething with anguish and droplets of anger. “It’s not a race, it never should be.” His hiss cuts across your chest, almost shattering your pearls. “I loved you, like I’ve never loved anyone.” His words make you look at him. The eyes that haunt your dreams are there, right there, less than a step away. The wind brushes his tendrils of golden hair across his face, he looks like a kaleidoscope manifested into flesh. “But I hate you now, in ways I have never hated someone.”

You feel like you’ve been stabbed in the neck.

You can feel a tear slip past your eyelashes, and you almost curse the skies. “That’s fine.” You choke quietly, your voice on the cusp of being drowned by the waves.

“I’ve moved on. I’m happy.” He sighs, he dashes the cigarette stub into the ocean, his hands going back into his pockets. His eyes don’t shift away from yours. “But you haunt me.” He looks away, towards the darkened horizon. “If I could choose between you dying or the Boston bomber - I would choose you.”

Your eyes widen with horror.

You’ve never been confronted with the pain you’ve caused. It’s never bothered you that men would desperately try to tarnish your image in salacious magazines. But this, this hurt you. Finally.

You can’t stop the tears now. You sink into the sand. The water washes against the borders of your legs. You choke a sob back.

“I’m sorry.” Your voice is small and dejected.

“That’s alright.” He’s lit another cigarette. He sits down next to you, offering you a toke. You take it, peaking at him from under your eyelashes.

Looking up at him, you’re met with a longing gaze.

You’re going to wonder forever what’s possessed him, but his lips find yours. They’re the light at the end of the tunnel and following the path to it guarantees his survival.

The embrace is bittersweet, sprinkled with pleasant familiarity. The taste of smoke tendrils dances between your tongues. His fingers swim in your hair, greedily pulling you deeper into his kiss. You want to die in his arms, it would be indeed the heavenliest way to die. You grab his shirt and hold on for dear life, his wine-soaked tongue intoxicating you further. Fireworks explode behind your eyelids and you sink further into him.

He breaks away from the kiss. His eyes riddled with unspoken secrets.

He stands up, his hand extending towards you. Lifting you to your feet and taking your hand in his, he begins to sway with you to the muffled music coming from the house. His hand rests above your bum, comfortably leading you in this dance. You lean your head against his chest, inhaling the smell of cologne and Marlboro Reds. The smell that used to wake you up on holiday weekends. A tear slips from your eye, a manifestation of your longing and your need for him.

Why do hurt people, hurt people?

You recall the day your father left your mother for dead.

“Where’s mum going, daddy?” You look up at the towering figure of your father.

His stern gaze remains on the distressed woman being handcuffed to the gurney. He brushes off your question with a glare embalmed with stone. You gulp and return your stare to your screaming mother; you rush to her, but a paramedic stops you in your tracks. Your mothers begs your father to let her go, her cries echoing around the front garden. Her roses seemingly wilt in sympathy for their weeping creator. She screams and fights against the paramedics, your father doesn’t wait until the doors of the ambulance have been closed before he closes the front door.

You rush to the living room window, standing beyond the curtain with your face pressed against the glass, you watch your mother being driven away.

You’ll never see her again and never know where she took her last breaths; and you’ll be transferred to board at your school. You see your father annually and eventually he leaves you for retirement in South Africa, you’re alone and unloved.

So, you steal hearts so that your own can heal.

Chris breaks your dance, his hypnotising spell diluted by the distance imposed by his now hardened glare. He turns and leaves, his shadow furthering away from your own. You watch in astonishment as he leaves you, cigarette smoke billowing away from his receding figure.

You can’t help the stream that washes your cheekbones.

He’s done the impossible - broke you.

-

Part 3 -