#do i cry every time he hands the coins back to her So Gently? maybe so

[raayllum]

anyway Rayla's body language throughout the whole "there's a burden I'm carrying" talk as she - for the first time - outright asks for emotional support, especially after everything that's happened, fucking kills me, because look at her!!

she's so unsure and nervous and awkward and stumbling and trying so hard, because she wants this. she wants their relationship to be better and knows, even if it goes against her every instinct, that this is a part of it, and she's going to Try!!

#do i cry every time he hands the coins back to her So Gently? maybe so #rayllum #tdp rayla #s5 #5x04 #god im proud of her #arc 2 #tdp #mini meta #not really but Close Enough #appreciation #the way this is her even after 'i trust her unconditionally' and 'i would do anything for you' and him jumping off a mountain for her #AND 'you know i'm Always Here for you right' #like good god girl what did the silvergrove do to you

[missymurphy1985]

The Coin Flip (Tommy Shelby X OC one shot)

Warning - smut

I've written this with an OC rather than y/n (fancied a change lol)

Taglist @queenshelby @margoo0 @being-worthy @peakyscillian @ntmynouis @janelongxox @elenavampire21 @noctvrnalmoth @ysmmsy @cloudofdisney @lauren-raines-x @namelesslosers @misscarolineshelby @screemqueen @cilleveryone @miss-shelby

"If it's heads, Aberama here gets all of this, with my blessing. If it's tails....

I fuck your daughter, Mr Gold."

Tommy knocked on the door, a slight smirk as he heard her padding down the stairs to open it.

Lucy opened it, a nervous look in her eyes. She knew about the coin flip, and as much as she wanted to be angry with both her father and Tommy, she couldn't be. She had fantasised about this for years.

"Miss Gold.. may I come in?" He was more polite than you gave him credit for. Standing aside, she let him pass. He removed his cap, jacket and gun holster, leaving them by the door. "I hope these will be safe here?"

"I live alone, and the door is locked. Would you like a drink Mr Shelby?"

"Call me Tommy eh? Mr Shelby is too formal for this, don't you think?" Lucy nodded, cheeks flushing slightly as her head bowed. He took a step towards her, tilting her chin back up. "We don't have to - "

"Yes we do. You flipped a coin. My father lost..."

"Your father lost, but you don't have to lose anything Miss Gold."

"Lucy. My name is Lucy. And what makes you think I haven't already 'lost' it, Tommy?" He smirked.

"Not as innocent as people believe eh?"

"My father must never know..."

"You have my word Lucy."

"Would you like a drink?"

"No. Thank you. Come sit with me?" He took Lucy's hand and led her through to the small dining area in the corner of the room. "May I smoke?"

She nodded, and Tommy lit a cigarette. Lucy took the one he offered her. They sat in comfortable silence for a few minutes before Tommy broke it.

"If this is what you want, I'm more than happy to oblige Lucy. But I won't force it. As much as my reputation may precede me, I'm still a man of morals when it comes to women."

"I appreciate the gesture Tommy. If it's my consent you require, then you have it." He stubbed his cigarette out, and she did the same. Taking his hand, she led him upstairs and into her bedroom.

"You like to get straight to it I see..." Tommy chuckled as Lucy pulled his suit jacket over his shoulders. His hands moved up her back, feeling the heat radiating from her even through the material of her blouse. He leaned down gently and brushed his lips against hers, feeling the familiar stirring in his groin as the kiss deepened, their tongues meeting for the first time, dancing around each other.

His hands reached under her blouse, disconnecting their lips before lifting it over her head. Unstrapping her bra, letting it fall to the floor, his eyes gazed over her bare upper body lustfully. She was beautiful..

She unbuttoned his shirt, throwing it onto the pile of her clothes on the floor, and he lifted his undershirt over his head.

Her fingers traced over his tattoos and scars gently. She made a mental note to ask him about them later, but for now all she wanted was him to take her as the coin flip had decided for them.

She played with the buckle on his trousers, looking up at him, smiling at the desire clearly visible in his eyes. The trousers fell, his briefs tented out from his erection. She palmed it lightly, making him groan quietly, her lips finding his again as she stroked him.

"Do you like that Tommy? Do you like my hand stroking your cock? You're so fucking hard..." She whispered against his lips, he pulled one of hers between his teeth, nibbling it softly making her whimper against him. He needed to gain control back.

"I do, but I'd like your mouth even more. On your knees, Miss Gold." Lucy smiled, and complied. She pulled his briefs down, and licked a long trail up his firm shaft, her eyes locked with his seductively as her tongue circled the tip. His expressionless face told her nothing, but the twitch of his cock against her lips told her everything.

Swallowing him down, almost all the way, you heard him groan deeply from above you. His hands on the back of your head, trying to force you to take him deeper.

"You gonna let me come down that throat of yours Lucy?" He asked, tugging her hair, taking control and thrusting into her mouth. She gagged a little, making him chuckle, but smiled as she nodded. Steadying himself against the four poster bed frame with one hand, his other hand in her hair pulling her head still as he moved his hips back and forth. She took it all, occasionally scraping her lower teeth against his shaft making him hiss, before he groaned, his release coming in ropes down her throat.

She held her mouth open as she rolled his cum round her mouth before swallowing. Panting, he lifted her off the floor, pressing his lips to hers, not caring that he could taste himself on her tongue.

"I'm going to taste you now. Strip, and lie down on the bed. Knees over the side." Lucy bit her lip, excited at his forcefulness. No one had pleasured her this way before. She did as ordered, and lifted herself on her elbows, her knees bent at the edge of the bed.

He moved quickly, kneeling between her open legs and lifting them over his shoulders.

"You're fucking beautiful, you know that?"

She smiled, soon groaning as his mouth made contact with her soaked core. His tongue licking and circling her clit torturously slow. Two fingers entered her at the same time, her back arching slightly as she felt them moving around. A sudden surge of heat suddenly took her, and she gripped his cropped hair. He chuckled against her, his fingers working against this magical spot inside her, making her hips writhe against him. She'd never experienced anything like it - her orgasm was building quickly, a powerful knot of heat wound up deep inside her abdomen, begging for release.

"Fuck... Tommy... Don't stop... Oh god...." Tommy felt his cock hardening at the soft moans coming from her, and he picked up both speed and pressure of his tongue and fingers. He hadn't pleasured a woman in this way since Grace. He'd never do this to one of his whores or Lizzie, that was purely for functional stress relief and his own orgasm - he couldn't stop himself doing this to Lucy though, he loved the taste and feel of a woman on his mouth. Plus, no one had sucked his cock as expertly as she had moments ago - he felt the need, as a gentleman, to at least return the favour.

Her body was writhing against him, she was so close he could almost feel it. Her walls began to clench and he lifted his mouth from her, watching her body move against him. There was a flicker of panic in her eyes.

"Let it go... Just relax baby, I've got you..." Lucy's body felt like it was on fire, she couldn't stop the powerful orgasm ripping through her. His fingers pounded into her hard and fast as she came, her juices squirting powerfully from her as she did.

"Oh my god... Oh fuck...." She panted laying on the bed, completely overwhelmed. He moved his body on top of hers and lifted her legs round his waist.

"Still want me?" She nodded, and gasped as he entered her, setting a slow, steady pace to give her chance to adjust and focus.

"Tommy... Yes..." Her legs tightened round him, pulling him deep, her nails scratching along his shoulder blades.

"So tight... Fuck Lucy... So fucking wet for me eh?" His lips were in her ear, his words sending her closer to a second orgasm. "You like me fucking you? Feeling me fill you up? What would Mr Gold have to say eh? Knowing how dirty his daughter is? Knowing his worst enemy was about to fuck you hard from behind against that dresser over there?"

Tommy pulled out of her, lifting her body up and pushing her to face the mirror on her dresser. Bending her over, her breasts pressed against the wood, he lined himself against her and thrust inside hard.

"Yes!! Fuck me hard, Tommy..." He grinned at her through the mirror, pounding into her holding her back down with one hand and squeezing her ass cheek with the other - slapping it occasionally making her squeal.

"Dirty girl aren't you... Taking me so fucking deep... You're gonna come again aren't you?"

Her walls started to clench around him again, he could feel every inch of them. Her head and shoulders arched back, she bounced back against his cock pounding into her. Within minutes she was crying out his name as she hit her peak a second time.

Tommy's hand on her back moved up to her hair as he pulled out of her, moving her onto her knees quickly. She opened her mouth, and was rewarded with more ropes of him cum down her throat and onto her cheeks as he pumped himself in front of her. He gripped onto the dresser, his orgasm fading.

Lucy moved from underneath him picked her clothes up from the floor.

"You didn't come inside me Tommy?"

"I think your father would declare war with me if I knocked you up, don't you?" He chuckled, pulling his own clothes back on. Once they had redressed, Lucy walked him back to the door. He pulled her in for a final kiss, taking her by surprise.

"I'll see you around Mr Shelby," she smiled at him, opening the door.

"Maybe you will, Miss Gold. Maybe you will."

#tommy shelby x smut #cillian x oc #tommy shelby x oc #cillian x fem!reader

[holylulusworld]

Her substitute (1) - Need you

Title: Her substitute (1)

Summary: Once you were her best friend. Now her widower seeks shelter in your arms.

Square Filled: Cordell Walker

Ship: Cordell Walker x fem!Reader, Cordell Walker x Emily Walker (widowed)

Characters: Stella Walker

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: angst, language, mentions of loss of a loved one, grief, unrequited love, smut, protected sex, scared of feelings, guilt, sneaking around, secret affair

A/N: This is partially an AU. Cordell didn’t go undercover. Emily and the reader’s boyfriend died together on their way to Y/N’s birthday party. And the reader is Cordell’s partner for the sake of my story. His partner from the show will have an appearance either way.

Word Count: 1,7 k

Created for: @walker-bingo​

Her substitute masterlist

2021 Walker Bingo masterlist

Divider by @firefly-graphics​

Once upon a time life was good to you, great even.

Life was all you ever dreamed of. Until. One day. Your world exploded.

One day your best friend, the woman you considered family, and your boyfriend got killed after you tried to arrest an unforgiving man. You and your partner lost the people you love on the same day.

While you tried to pick up the pieces and put your life back together, Cordell preferred to despair, and to use you as an outlet for his pain, grief, and frustration.

He can be gentle and cruel within a heartbeat.

Emily was the love of his life but Jason was just someone you spend your days with to fill your empty life. Sometimes he calls you cold or heartless only as you gave Jason’s belongings to the Salvation Army after one year of grieving. 

Cordell can never know the reason for your fast recovery…he can never know…

“I need you—“ it always starts with these three words, followed by a desperate look and his hands. God his large hands reach out for you to touch, caress and grope. “Baby Girl.”

“We talked about this, Cordell,” you weakly press your hands against his chest, shaking your head ever so slightly. “I can’t do this. We are partners and she was my best friend.”

“Didn’t stop you from fucking her widower not six months after she got killed,” here we go. The sweet and desperate Cordell is gone, replaced by a blank nerve wanting to hurt and drag you down. “Only as you got over Jason like he meant nothing to you doesn’t mean I can just stop grieving.”

“Then why do you come here to fuck me?” he takes off his cowboy hat, nervously playing with it. “Cordell, we shouldn’t do this. It’s no good for you or me. What if your kids find out?”

“All I can think about is to have you underneath me, pinned to the mattress and my cock so deep inside it hurts,” he drops his hat, steps over it to grasp for you. “I want you, baby girl.”

“Shit—” pinned to the wall seconds later you find yourself falling for your best friend’s widower all over again. It’s not a secret you were in love with Cordell before Emily even met him. He just never showed interest in asking you out and when Emily came into the picture, you backed off like the good friend you were.

“Say you need me,” he buries his face in your neck, inhales your scent deeply. “Baby girl, tell me that you need me and that you want to feel me.”

“Cordell, fuck baby,” you whimper his name, ignore the guilt eating your soul up once again. All you can focus on are his hands grip your waist to hoist you up, holding you midair until you sling your legs around his waistline hands cradling his face to kiss him deeply. “I need you.” It’s not a lie. You always needed him; he just didn’t know it.

“I need you too,” he kisses you fiercely, almost desperate to forget all the pain and his empty bed at home when he tugs at your clothes or moans your name. “Give in, baby girl.”

You are a mess, both of you. While you let Cordell strip you bare, not just your body but your soul and heart, he pants, moans, and whines on top of you.

It doesn’t take long for him to slide into you and pin your hands above your head to make sure you know this isn’t love-making.

Two sides of the very same coin hit you where it hurts the most. Every. Single. Time. He doesn’t take his time to be gentle and loving. Its raw, unadulterated lust driving him into you.

“Fuck, baby girl,” he watches your lips part and your eyes dilate when he starts to move his hips. “Look at me.” It’s a command you follow immediately. He holds your wrists pinned to the mattress to make sure you can't touch him gently. “Good girl, always so good for me.”

“Cordell, you need to—” his lips kiss your protest away, force moans and tiny whimpers out of you. “Please.”

“Just tell me you need me as much as I need you, Y/N,” he finally says your name, not baby girl, and you nod, ashamed you let the widower of your best friend fuck you like a whore on cheap sheets.

“I need you,” you choke the words out, looking away, not wanting to hold his gaze when the familiar burn is back, the one pushing you violently over the edge only to leave you hollow in the end.

“Look at you, so responsive,” his hands finally let go of your wrists to roughly cup your breasts. His thumbs toy with your nipples leave them hard and throbbing. “Those tits, so pretty,” he dives in, suckles one nipple into his hot mouth to push you closer to the edge.

He moves slow, deliberate, plays your body like an instrument. You are in trance, only feel his body press yours to the mattress, mind blank once again.

Another deep thrust makes you moan his name loudly. “Fuck, I’m gonna cum,” you grasp for his shoulders to bring Cordell closer to your heated body to hold him, even if it’s only for this fleeting moment. “Cordell.”

“So tight and warm for me,” his hands grip your thighs to spread you wider. He loves to watch his huge cock disappear in your pussy, the one only he owns. “You take me so well and deep, baby girl.”

You cry out in pleasure, back arching off the bed when his cock hits that spot taking your breath away. His large hands cup your ass, squeeze it tightly.

Cordell holds himself inside your body, stops moving to feel you clench tightly around his thick length. Just staring down at you.

“Cord, what’s wrong?” you whimper breathlessly. 

“Just wanted to feel you cum before I fill this cunt up,” his pace becomes brutal after your orgasm.

He moans, eyes glued to your face as he tries to pretend you are only a warm body he can use, a toy to fulfill a primal need, not the woman he could fall for…

“Oh—” you watch him move on top of you, memorize his features, the way his hair is glued to his sweaty forehead, and those obscene veins in his arms, popping out. “I want you to cum, let me feel it, Cordell. Fuck me.”

“Fuck, you—shit Y/N,” he groans, hips jerking violently before he allows himself to let go. 

When it’s over he rolls off you to dispose of the condom, already looking for his clothes on the floor.

You have a routine. He comes to your apartment, convinces you to let him fuck you, and leaves you alone and cold moments after your high.

Tonight, you wrap yourself into a sheet and turn around to not watch Cordell hastily put his clothes back on. You would give the world for him to stay the night, but you know he will leave soon.

As usual, you take deep breaths to hide the tears forming in your eyes. “Thank you,” he says, and you feel like a fool all over again.

“I got a job offer in New York,” you casually say. “Do you remember? I always wanted to be with the FBI. Three years ago, they didn’t have a position for me, but last week, I got a call.”

“Oh—” is all you get. You can hear the ruffling of clothing, and then the door opens. “You should take their offer. Being my partner is a dead end. A girl like you shouldn’t stay a Texas Ranger,” the coldness in his voice breaks your heart.

“Yeah, maybe I should,” you clear your throat while you try not to cry. “I will call them on Monday. Have a great—” the door closes before you can say another word. “Figures…”

“FBI?” Stella blanches. “You want to go to New York to work with the FBI, Y/N?” she cries. “You can’t leave me too. Why is everyone leaving me?”

“Stella bear, nothing is decided yet,” you sit next to her on the steps, patting her thigh. “They called me two weeks ago, and I just thought I should at least fly to New York to talk to them. Don’t you think?”

“I don’t know,” she sniffles. “What did dad say? You are his partner, Y/N. He needs you,” you sling one arm around Stella’s shoulders, hiding she just added another crack to your fragile heart. “We need you. You are family to us. Mom loved you.”

“I loved your mom too, Stella bear,” giggling at the awful nickname Stella leans her head against your shoulder, and you feel the guilt overwhelm you once again. If only the girl knew you are banging her father. “She was my best friend and your dad is my friend too.”

“Y/N?” Cordell walks toward his house with long steps. “Is there an emergency? Do you need my help? It’s Sunday.”

“Your mom invited me for dinner, and I met Stella in town and drove her home. If you don’t want me here, I understand,” you try to keep the sadness out of your voice.

“Grandma wants a family dinner, dad,” Stella grumbles. “If I must spend time with my lame brother and you, I want Y/N to join us. At least she’s cool.”

“Cool?” Cordell smirks, glancing down at you. “I remember there was a time when she had braces and was a shy little mouse.”

“Y/N shy? I don’t believe a single word, dad,” she nudges your side. “Right, Y/N. You never were shy.”

“I hate to admit it, but I was a little shy. Your mom helped me break out of my shell and become the woman I am today. I miss her,” you sniff, watching Cordell sit next to his daughter. 

“Emily, she always talked about you. How you helped her get better grades,” Cordell says. “She loved you too, Y/N.”

When you sit at his table half an hour later, watching Cordell with his family you decide your last encounter was the last time. You won’t risk messing his family up even more...

“We can’t do this again, Cordell,” you sigh when he leans in your doorframe, that look in his eyes again. “I told you after the dinner with your family we should stay only friends.”

“Y/N, we are friends but—” he cups your cheek with one hand, thumb swiping over your lips, “I need you, baby girl…”

>> Part 2

Walker Tags

@mimzy1994​, @rach-12​, @jaredpadaleckisbride

--------------------

All works Tags

@yolobloggers​​

@shikshinkwon​

@miraclesoflove​

@mogaruke​

@shatteredabby​

@soryuwifeyxx​

@letsdisneythings​

@i-love-superhero​

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@thevelvetseries​

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#Her substitute (1) - Need you #cordell walker #cordell x reader #walkerbingo #cordell walker x reader #cordell walker fanfiction #cordell walker x fem!reader #smut #grief #loss of a loved one

[liberty-barnes]

Just Breathe

Tom Holland x Female!Osterfield!Bisexual!Reader

Summary: Childbirth waits for no one, not even the Oscars.

Warnings: fluuuuuff, pregnant reader, mentions of childbirth, good press articles, BISEXUAL READER WOOOHOOO

Word Count: 1.5k words

Estimated Reading Time: 6 minutes

A/N: heeeeey look @peterspideyy​ @parkersbliss​ that crazy idea i ranted to you about like six months ago finally got done! i can’t believe i did it... this feels too good to be true, is the world gonna end or something?

Masterlist 

"I don't think this is a good idea."

"Me neither."

"Please, just stay here."

You looked up to your brother and husband, frowning as you smoothed your hand over the soft black fabric of your gown.

"I am not missing the Oscars, Tom. I've still got two weeks until I'm due, it'll be fine."

You sat down on the bed and looked dejectedly at your shoes, then proceeded to throw puppy dog eyes your brother's way until Harrison had no choice but to kneel and help you put on your comfortable trainers. There's no way you're putting on your heels at 37 weeks of pregnancy.

"But what if Baby decides to come sooner? You could go into labour at any moment!"

You rolled your eyes and only raised your arms so they could help you out of bed.

"You guys are being over-dramatic. Nothing's gonna happen. We're just going to the Oscars, we'll have a good time, and hopefully, I'll leave with a little statue under my arm."

With that, you waddled out of your hotel room, ready to get into the limo.

---

"(Y/n)! It's so good to see you! You look radiant as always!"

You smiled at Kaitlyn, an interviewer you knew and trusted and rubbed your belly comfortingly. 

"Thank you, I feel like a whale, but Baby'll be here soon so it's worth it."

She smiled and asked you a bunch of questions about your movie and how you were feeling about being nominated for Best Actress.

"But anyway, how far along are you now?"

"I'm a little over 37 weeks, they should be coming soon. Tom and Haz were actually really apprehensive about me coming here since I'm so close to my due date."

She smiled and looked over at the two men, obviously on edge.

"Well, I wish you all the best and I sincerely hope you win."

You hugged her goodbye and posed for a few more pictures before being led inside by your husband.

---

"And now, for the moment you've all been waiting for..."

Everyone watched with bated breath as Brie Larson, last year's winner, got ready to announce who would take home the trophy.

"This year's winner, and taking home the Oscar for best actress in a leading role..."

Tom took your hand and you squeezed it tight, ready to applaud one of the other amazing actresses on their win.

"(Y/n) Holland, for her brilliant performance in Two Sides of the Same Coin!"

You felt like your heart was gonna beat out of your chest, run to that stage, kiss Brie, then promptly burst to flames out of sheer, unadulterated enthusiasm. Tom was hugging you and whispering how much you deserved it while your brother gently guided you to the podium. None of them would ever allow you to go up there on your own. Always one in front of you in case you trip forward and one behind you to catch you if you fall back.

Overprotective much?

As soon as you reached Brie, you hugged her tight (or as tight as you could with a human baby house separating you), taking the award while the two boys hugged her too.

"Holy Louis Tomlinson in a crop top."

The audience laughed, most of them already familiar with your strange One Direction inspired expressions.

"Wow, I didn't actually think I was gonna win this, everyone had such amazing performances. I-It's an honour, really. Two Sides of the Same Coin was a project very near and dear to my heart, so I'd like to thank the amazing Drew Barrymore, who wrote and directed the movie."

The room erupted in cheers and the woman smiled at you from her place on the front row.

"Bisexual representation is something we don't get very often, and when we do, it's always misjudged. So thank you for showing the world what bisexuality really is, and for giving me a chance to live out my dreams of kissing lots of people. This idiot tied me down too soon."

You pointed behind you at Tom, hearing his appalled squeak along with Harrison's guffaw of a laugh. 

In other news, the baby was starting to inconvenience you slightly. Baby had been going crazy since last night (not that you'd tell the boys) and the Braxton-Hicks were killing you, but it only got worse now.

"I'd also like to thank my amazing costars, Zendaya, Bella Thorne, and Owen Patrick Joyner, it was awesome to make out with you all..."

The crowd laughed while you felt something trickle down your legs.

Oh.

OH.

You'll never live this down, that's for sure.

"Uh, before I finish can one of you idiots call the car and get them to come to the exit please and thank you? Now as I was saying-"

"Wait, why?"

You turned to your brother and smiled innocently.

"Oh, my water just broke."

The crowd cheered.

Tom screamed.

Harrison fell to the floor, unconscious.

You sighed.

"New plan, can anyone try to wake my brother while my hus-" 

You looked at Tom, frantically doing small back and forths between you and his best friend, unsure of what to do. 

"-While someone else calls the car because both of them are apparently useless."

"We need to get you to the hospital!"

His terrified scream could be heard all through the room, even with no mic.

"What? No! I need to finish my acceptance speech, then go back to the hotel to shower and maybe take a little nap and then go to the hospital. My water just broke, Thomas, we have time, calm your tits."

You turned back fully to the mic, facing the hysteric faces of the crowd, very entertained by the exchange.

"Now as I was saying, I want to thank the amazing team that worked on this movie, you're all amazing and it was such a good experience. I'd also like to thank my family for always being there for me and supporting me and Haz in our acting careers. Thank you to my brother, even if he's unconscious right now, he'll just watch it on Youtube later, for literally forcing me to go to the audition. And lastly, I'd like to thank my wonderful husband, who hopefully hasn't passed out yet, for always supporting me and being my biggest rock through everything. Now if you'll excuse me, I'm off to deliver a baby, you know, just normal Saturday night stuff."

---

An Oscar in hand and another... down her legs?

(Y/n) Holland sure gave the Oscars something to be entertained by on this last Saturday. The wife of fellow actor Tom Holland looked radiant in her custom-made Valentino dress, looking ready for a night of fun.

(Y/n) was nominated for this year's Best Actress in a Leading Role award, alongside Meryl Streep, Margot Robbie, Cate Blanchett, and Tessa Thompson, but the Oscar went to her from her brilliant performance in Two Sides of the Same Coin. But it was during her acceptance speech that things got... slippery.

At 37 weeks of pregnancy, the Holland baby was ready to come at any minute, but apparently, theatrics run in the family. The actress was in the middle of her speech when she felt her water break, pausing in her talking to request a car be called.

You'd think her husband, Tom, and brother Harrison Osterfield, overprotective as they are, would be fully prepared! Unfortunately for them, and fortunately for our entertainment, they were not. Harrison went unconscious after hearing the news, dropping to the floor and earning himself a minor concussion, much to his sister's amusement

[image1-harrison-ice-pack.png]

@ynholland: "Don't worry, when you go into labour, I'll be with you every step of the way." Said Harrison Osterfield, then proceeded to pass out, get a minor concussion, and miss the whole delivery.😂 Good job, little bro👍

And just when you thought she couldn't get any better, she finishes her acceptance speech with: "Now if you'll excuse me, I'm off to deliver a baby, you know, just normal Saturday night stuff." We have no choice but to stan this iconic queen!

But for the news you've all been waiting for, Oscar Robert Holland (yes, the middle name is a homage to Robert Downey Jr. himself, we're not crying, you are!) was born just twelve hours later. Tom let know through a beautiful Instagram picture that he is in fact "perfectly healthy and loved by everyone already".

[image2-tom-and-oscar.png]

@tomholland2013: I present to you, my best creation to this date: Oscar Robert Holland. Thank you all for your prayers and kind messages, our boy is perfectly healthy and loved by everyone already❤️

But of course, Uncle Haz wouldn't stay behind.

[image3-haz-and-oscar.png]

@hazosterfield: Since I know you've all been worried sick and desperate to know how the baby is... I'm doing just fine, it's just a minor concussion :) Oh and my godson's great too.

And just to prove that the Osterfields are indeed the royal family of comedy, we leave with this wonderful picture posted to the happy mum's very own Instagram.

[image4-yn-and-oscars.png]

@ynholland: Guess I was so good they gave two Oscars instead of one ;)

-Written by Kaitlyn Storm

so anyway, Two Sides of the Same Coin is a movie idea i got a while ago and should maybe try to write one of these days but oh well or something. anyway, i’m not gonna rant about it here cause it’d be too long but i hope you enjoyed this and don’t forget to like/comment/reblog if you feel like it!

-Love, Miah

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[vnderoos]

if it were me ✷ fred weasley

warnings / language

word count / 1.9k

masterlist in bio ↴

TEARS STUNG IN THE SPACES behind Y/N's eyes as she made her way back to the Gryffindor common room, a knot in her throat and her heart at her feet. The portrait of the Fat Lady looked at her with sympathetic eyes. "Everything alright, darling?" the woman asked, her demeanor much softer than her usually loud behavior.

Y/N pulled the sleeve of her cream sweater over her fingers and wiped her cheek, blinking away the rest of her tears while she could, and she nodded. "I'm fine, miss," she said and the lady smiled sadly. She ignored the look of pity and she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. "Balderdash," she muttered and the portrait swung open, slower than usual so that it fit her mood, and she stepped through the hole in the wall. She wasn't even supposed to be there right now and she knew it as the portrait closed behind her. She was supposed to be on a date with a cute, Slytherin boy who'd asked to get to know her over a butterbeer and they were supposed to be out in Hogsmeade all night, laughing, window-shopping, and enjoying each other's company.

Unfortunately for her, though, he'd never even shown up. She waited at the Three Broomsticks for an hour, drinking two butter beers on her own. It was embarrassing to keep telling the waitress that she was waiting on someone, only to end up dropping the coins for her drinks and a tip on the tabletop and slipping away. Y/N was afraid that it'd be embarrassing to face everyone in the common room, now, too, to tell them that she got stood up. That's why she was still standing behind the portrait, crying softly to herself as she tried to get all of her tears out then. She'd hate to be talking to one of her friends and starting to cry again.

She wasn't there for long when the portrait to the common room swung open once more. She inhaled sharply and quickly brought her hands to her cheeks, swiping beneath her eyes as Fred and George Weasley stepped inside. She was almost hoping that they wouldn't even see her, that they'd walk right past her and head off to bed, but considering they'd been friends since their first years, she knew she'd never be overlooked by them.

Their conversation halted immediately, as soon as their eyes settled on her slouchy figure, and George's eyebrows furrowed worriedly. "What's the matter, little miss?" Fred asked, brushing his hand over her bicep softly and she couldn't help but squeeze her eyes shut at the feeling. Fred gave his brother a look and he seemed to understand completely. The twins stepped forward and enveloped Y/N in a hug between them. She turned her body into Fred's, wrapping her arms around his waist and burying her face in his chest.

"There, there, love," George muttered from behind her, his arms closed tightly around her shoulders as he leaned against her. She sniffled and he frowned into her hair. "We've got you," he reassured her and she reached one of her hands behind her, grabbing a fistful of his sweater just to let him know that she appreciated him, too. While the three of them had been close forever, she'd always gravitated more towards Fred. George was a sweetie through and through, but there was something about his brother that made her feel like he understood her better, like he knew her like the back of his hand. Because of that, he looked at George over Y/N's head again, and he smiled awkwardly. George nodded. "I think I'm going to get some rest, but Fred, I trust you can cheer her up from here, yeah?" he excused himself, making his escape when Fred confirmed.

When George had left and it was just Fred and Y/N standing in the shadows behind the portrait, he threaded his fingers through the locks of her soft hair gently. "Is this about your date?" he asked quietly. He knew she'd been waiting all week to go out with this boy, and while he'd hated the thought of her going out with anyone but him, he'd wanted her to be happy. He could feel his jaw clench when she nodded her head against him. "What did he do? That wanker, I swear I'll—" he started, but Y/N cut him off when she looked up at him.

Her eyes were glistening with tears and he could feel himself soften at the sight. "He didn't show," she admitted weakly and Fred pulled her back into him. She was bursting at the seams the moment he and George had entered the common room, but now, she was unraveling completely. Her hands balled up around the fabric of his sweater and she collapsed into his chest, her shoulders shaking with every cry.

Fred's desire to get his knuckles bloody with this Slytherin douche was outweighed by Y/N's need for him in the moment, so he shoved every urge to walk to the dungeons down and he held her. "Yeah? Well, he's a right stupid git for turning someone like you down," he reassured her and he pressed a kiss into her hair. "Come, let's go lay on the couch for a bit, yeah? Surely, everybody's in bed by now, anyways," he told her and she nodded. She let Fred lead her further into the empty common room and he let go of her for a moment to lay himself down on the couch in front of the fireplace.

He held his arm out after he had and he beckoned her to lay down with him. Y/N didn't have to think twice about squeezing onto the cushions beside him, rolling on her side so she could cuddle up into him, and she laid her head on his chest. He rested one of his hands over her waist and used the other to comb his fingers through her hair comfortingly. He waited until her cries faded into sniffles to brush his thumb over her cheek.

"If I'd ask you out on that date, I wouldn't have even considered standing you up, you know," Fred confessed after a while, telling her only what he'd been thinking about that entire time, and she stilled against him.

With her ear pressed against his chest, she could feel his heartbeat quicken and hers sped up to match. She hugged his waist a little tighter and she tilted her head up to look at him. "What would you have done?" she asked him quietly after a moment, almost hesitant because she couldn't tell if he was being serious.

But he was.

Fred shifted his body awkwardly beneath her and he managed a small smile. "You really want to know?" he asked and she nodded. "Close your eyes, so you can picture it better," he said quietly. She did as she was told and she let her eyes fall closed, but not before she flashed him a grin and shook her head softly. "First, I'd clean up for you and throw on one of my nicer sweaters—the dark red one that you think brings out my eyes. I'd stop and pick you up from the dorm on my way out, so I could make sure you'd get there safely, and then we'd leave to walk hand-in-hand to Hogsmeade together," he explained to her lowly, his words rumbling in his chest as he spoke. He continued to card his fingers through her hair as he did, scratching her scalp softly. "Can you see it?" he hummed.

Of course, she could see it. From the moment he'd started talking, she'd done nothing but imagine. Maybe it'd helped that she used to spend hours thinking about what a date with Fred would've been like before she gave up hope, but now that he was imagining it for her, it played vividly in her head. She could see him in the red sweater that he was talking about—the soft one which had his initials stitched into the label. She loved that sweater. Y/N smiled to herself. "I can see it," she told him, images of them holding hands on the way to Hogsmeade flickering through her mind. "Keep going?" she asked.

He let out a breath of amusement. "Well, you'd ask me about my day, but I'd say, 'no, I want to hear about yours', and you'd tell me. I'd listen and smile, because it makes me happy when you have a good day," he admitted and she could feel herself grinning. "We'd get a quick dinner and some butterbeer at the Three Broomsticks. I'd pay, of course, and then, I'd which you off somewhere to lay down and look up at the stars. I'd be a perfect gentleman, too," he promised.

Y/N could see everything he described so perfectly and part of her longed for a night like that with her best friend. He'd always been so much more than that to her, though, but he didn't need to know that. Her eyes flickered opened once he'd finished talking and she propped herself up on one of her elbows, looking down at him with amusement flashing in her eyes. "So, no funny business?" she asked.

He shook his head. "No funny business," he repeated.

She lifted her eyebrows in mock defeat and feigned a sigh. "Well, that's a shame," she teased and she laid her head back down on his chest. "I think it'd be quite interesting."

Fred laughed from beneath her head and she fought a giggle of her own. "If you wouldn't mind, then sure. Some funny business," he told her and the laugh spilled from her lips.

She held onto him a little bit tighter and they laid together in silence. In order to get her mind off her disaster of a night, she figured she would change the subject after a while. "How was quidditch practice?" she asked.

He twisted a lock of her hair around his finger and tugged on jt gently. "It was nice. George fell off his broom, but he was close to the ground. Made for a good laugh, though," he told her and she stifled a laugh, picturing George rolling around in the grass in the middle of the quidditch pitch. She wish she'd been there to see it.

While her mind was free of the Slytherin boy and talking about George's fall had taken her mind off her feelings, she couldn't help but let her thoughts wander to what Fred had described. "Did you mean what you said about that date, Freddie?" she asked quietly after a while and she could feel the redhead freeze beneath her.

He waited a moment or two, before ultimately nodding his head. "I meant it," he confessed.

Her heart fluttered inside of her chest and she peeked up at him. "Do you think we could do that sometime for real?" she asked him. "I like you much better than some snotty Slytherin, anyways," she muttered.

"Do you?" Fred asked, his voice prickling with hopefulness, and she nodded. "Then, of course," he promised and he leaned forward, pressing a kiss to the corner of her mouth. Y/N smiled at that, and when he began to pull away, she leaned forward and planted her lips on his.

Maybe getting stood up wasn't so bad, after all.

#fred weasley #fred weasley imagines #fred weasley x reader #james phelps #james phelps imagines #james phelps x reader #george weasley #george weasley imagines #george weasley x reader

[killemwithkawaii]

First!!

I’m not sure I sent it already but just to be safe! Can I have Sally and the gang react to finding out that thier goofy yet sweet crush has wings? Kinda like Angel wings but they never knew cause she always hid it with bandages? I got the idea from “ after dark “ by asian kung-fu generation. I like to see that the reader lend a helping hand or wing...like give them a ride if they are late to some place or just want a flight ride for fun XD and use her wing to shield her friends or crush from the rain if they forgot thier umbrella, letting them rest their head on her wings if tired? And reacting to her crash landing into trees since she’s bad at landing lol I hope this was ok.

The Gang finding out their s/o has wings-

Ashley~

She's of course shocked at first, but once that wears off, the first thing the resident dare-devil of the four horsemen would want to do is have her [s/o] take her for a ride. [S/o] was nervous to have such precious cargo with them as they flew, insisting it was much too risky for their clumsy self to carry her, but Ash was relentless and eventually wore them down when she really turned on the charm and promised for a hundredth time to hold on tight. She had thought the ultimate rush could be found on some especially twisted roller coaster, or driving her motorcycle at breakneck speed down an empty highway, but absolutely nothing compared to the unbridled elation of soaring through the air while wrapped in her lovers arms. (The additional dose of adrenaline from the less-than-graceful landing was just a bonus)

Larry~

Once he picks his jaw up off the floor, he immediately grabs his sketchbook and gets to work in capturing the newly-divulged beauty of his partner. He'd drawn them plenty of times before, but the reveal had him seeing [s/o] in a whole new light. He ends up sketching them all night in every pose and angle he can think to ask them to strike before the implications of [s/o]s anatomy start to finally sink in: He had considered himself cursed since that fateful day in his childhood, when he committed a horrible sin and was touched by what he swore was a demon. He had been so focused on the negative, in the reality of evil and the torment it had bestowed on him for his transgressions, that he had never considered that there was another side to the coin- If demons were real, then why would a divine counterpart be so far-fetched? He slowly put his sketchbook aside and approached [s/o], his eyes filling with tears before dropping to his knees before them. He clutched their hands and looked up at them in awe. He always knew [s/o] was special. He hadn't admitted it out loud, wanting to avoid sounding corny, but from the moment he had first met them, he felt they were meant to be together. He thought that maybe he had found a soulmate, but had never considered that he had found an angel, his angel, until the evidence was in the flesh before his eyes. It was the first time he had openly wept in front of them. [S/o] knelt and held him tightly, letting him cry in their shoulder until his sobs slowly subsided. In that moment, wrapped in his partners warm wings and loving embrace, Larry finally, at last, felt truly at peace...

Todd~

He looks more puzzled than [s/o] had ever seen him. He quickly approached and began to examine [s/o], lightly prodding at the point where their wings meet their back, gently testing the mobility of the joint and combing through their feathers, wondering aloud about skeletal and muscular structure. He begins asking questions rapid-fire, his curiosity obviously peaked by the unexpected reveal: "Were you born like this? Are you capable of flight? Do you molt? Do you have any other anatomy more similar to birds than humans?" The list went on and on and on. He's was absolutely fascinated! He took page upon page of notes while examining [s/o]s wings and ended up going on a week-long research bender at the library, checking out every book he can find on convergent evolution, evolutionary biology, human and bird anatomy, legends and myths about winged humans, and a few books on avian care and husbandry for good measure. [S/o] ends up learning a lot about themselves in the process of his research, and finds it's really nice to finally be able to fold their wings around Todd while cuddling up to him when he falls asleep at his desk while reading late at night.

Sal~

Sal is at first speechless- it felt rather odd for him to be on this end of a reveal. Normally he's the one getting exposed, ready for all manor of invasive questions and putting up emotional shields in case of rejection, but this time, it was his partner baring all to him. When he didn't immediately react, [s/o] became a little self-conscious. They wondered if it was too soon to share their secret and apologized for springing this on him without much of a warning. They offered to put their bandages back on and quietly assured Sal that it was alright if this was a deal breaker- finding out your partner wasn't exactly a normal person is a lot to handle, and they didn't want to burden him more than he already was. This snapped Sal out of his shock. He tripped over his words some, but managed to assure [s/o] that that wasn't the case at all- on the contrary, he felt incredibly privileged to be trusted with this kind of thing. He knew first-hand how hard it was to open up to others and show your real self to them. He only allowed his closest friends and family to see him as he truly was, and despite knowing deep down that they loved him and would never spurn him because of his physical differences, it was still really hard to take that leap of faith with someone. He took their hand and genuinely thanked [s/o] for sharing such a personal thing with him, once again emphasizing that they never had to hide anything from him and that knowing them as they were could never ever be a burden or change how he felt about them (and also that the wings made them look really, really, really, really awesome).

#K.E.W.K. answers #K.E.W.K. writes #sally face #sally face fanfiction #sally face imagine #sal fisher #sal fisher x y/n #sal fisher x reader #larry johnson #larry johnson x y/n #larry johnson x reader #ashley campbell #ashley campbell x y/n #ashley campbell x reader #todd morrison #todd morrison x y/n #todd morrison x reader #romance #the gang

[everlarkficexchange]

Mine

Author: @taylerwrites

Prompt 28: Modern AU: Bestfriends!Everlark took their shot at being lovers. But Katniss introduced Peeta as her “best friend” to a guy at a party (she was not used to calling him boyfriend yet). He was furious. [submitted by anonymous]

A/N: Hello! So, somehow, this story kind of took a mafia turn, and… I can’t say that I’m upset about it. I kind of tweaked the prompt a bit, in which they’re best friends that become more. But nothing happens until Katniss introduces Peeta as her bodyguard to a guy at a party. [Hint: she totally does it on purpose.] Also, the full version will be posted on AO3. Since I’ve been sick, I was kind of short on time.

Rating: E (Warnings: Dark/ Violent Themes; Age Gap; Possessive language/ behavior)

~~~~~ 

She’s used to this by now—strange guests in dark suits showing up at her grandfather’s house at all times of the day. Thugs, her nanny calls them one evening before bed. And they are, most of them, often wandering down the halls with a glint of ill intent in their eye.

“You stay in your room when they’re here. Do you understand?” her nanny asks, tucking away the last of Katniss’s toys in the white chest near her dresser.

“Yes, nan.”

Except, that night, she doesn’t listen. The sound of her stomach gurgling drags her out of bed and she sneaks down into the kitchen where Sae scolds her for wandering the halls so late at night. 

She’s tiptoeing past her grandfather’s study, hands now full of mini blueberry muffins and a bottle of apple juice, when she hears unfamiliar voices, and… sobbing? Katniss stops, curious, and steps closer to peek through the small slit between the large mahogany doors.

There are two darkly dressed men standing in front of the fire, their rings catching in the warm glow as they gesture toward a hunched shadow behind them. The dim light in the study is barely enough to make out any significant details, but she easily sees the outline of a boy. 

He sniffles softly, a muffled sound heard under the voices of the men in the room. Words are spoken quietly, and she strains to catch what they are saying.

“His parents… One of Coin’s men, I believe… What should we—”

She’s jostled from the door by a pair of firm hands, and she stares up into the fierce face of Purnia, her tight updo making the sharp angles of her face more threatening. 

“You should be in bed,” is all the tall woman says before escorting her to her room.

~~~~~

Later, Katniss hears them bring the boy to the guest room across the hall. And she waits until she hears the click of their expensive shoes disappear down the hallway before she goes to her door and steps out—two muffins and the bottle of juice in her hands.

Quietly, she tiptoes across the hall to the door that is slightly ajar. She pushes it open, unsurprised to find the boy crying in the corner of the room. When she walks closer, she discovers that he’s an older boy, maybe thirteen or fourteen—a gangly thing with blond, curly hair sticking up around his head and oversized clothes.

He looks up when she steps on a creaky floorboard; his eyes are wide with fright until he realizes that she’s no real threat. Scrawny eight-year-olds aren’t as intimidating as old floorboards, it seems. 

Katniss takes him in, now that she can get the full picture of him. And when she looks beyond the baggy clothes, he kind of reminds her of a scrappy character from one of her storybooks.

Except, he doesn’t seem so bad.

Wordlessly, she holds out one of the muffins, and he just stares at it. She jiggles her hand, encouraging him to take the muffin. And when he finally does, she offers him a toothy smile.

“Thank you, little one,” he tells her, which is confusing considering he looks like the little one at the moment. But she doesn’t question it as she sits beside him, her knees drawn up to her chest.

They eat their muffins quietly, and when he asks what her name is, her answer whistles through her missing front tooth. “Katniss.” 

He nods and doesn’t say much else.

~~~~~

She watches the boy as he steps into the dining room, his eyes momentarily catching hers where she stands behind her grandfather in her plaid dress and too itchy turtleneck sweater.

He’s dressed in a black suit, the lights from the chandeliers above reflecting off his shiny, dark shoes, looking every bit like the influential guest her grandfather expects him to be. It’s a drastic difference from the state he arrived at the house in only two days ago. 

However, his blonde curls still hang limply on his forehead, and the color of his skin continues to have a grey sheen. But his blue eyes reflect a bit of life in them, even if it’s fleeting, and she thinks that might mean something as he stands before her grandfather as still as a statue. 

Her grandfather puffs out a cloud of smoke from his cigar, watching the boy with sharp eyes. 

“Have you ever held a gun, boy?” The boy shakes his head. “People around here call me sir when they answer me.”

She can see his bottom lip slightly tremble, but he schools it with a blank expression.

“No, sir.”

Adult talk isn’t something her grandfather allows her to listen in on; numbers and business were of no interest to children. But as he talks to the boy, she gets to witness firsthand how regular people are turned into bloodhounds. It turns her gut a little, even though she doesn’t quite understand.

Yet, all she can do is press her lips into a thin line as the boy slips the silver signet ring on his left pinky finger.

~~~~~ 

He earns his first tattoo when he’s eighteen. It’s on the inside of his left wrist in dark ink, a snake wrapped around a rose, confirming he is owned by the House of Snow. 

He’s no longer ‘boy’. He’s Peeta—a man now, another thug in a dark suit. Although… he isn’t. 

Not to her.

Sometimes, she’d catch him reading in the library when he wasn’t doing a job for her grandfather, and she often marveled how he looked more like the boy she knew and not the man he’s become. His brows would crease in an expression of concentration, and not one of anger which appeared on his face often after running ‘errands’. And then the look would disappear when he caught her spying on him—not that she was ever being very discreet about it.

“Focus on your homework, little one,” he’d say, a small smile on his mouth. Katniss would blush and turn back to her reading for a bit before sneaking glances at him again.

Peeta is still somewhat of a mystery to Katniss, but he’s kind to her—unlike other guests that show up unannounced in her home who see her as the annoying nuisance in her grandfather’s shadow. He remembers her birthday, perching small gifts on the window sill in the alcove she normally hides in. And he never ignores her when he comes across her in the halls or is forced to sit beside her during dinner. Instead, he listens as she prattles on about her studies or what happened in the house while he was away on business trips. 

When it dawns on her one day that perhaps they are friends, he merely smiles as she tells him this and doesn’t disagree with her. It’s at that moment that Katniss felt their friendship is valuable and something she needs to protect—even if Peeta sees her as a little one. Because friends look out for one another, even when they’re out past their bedtime with hands full of food.

“What are you doing out of bed, little one?” he asks when he finds her sneaking out of the kitchen.

“What does it look like?”

Peeta steals one of the blueberry muffins from her pile, a ghost of a smile playing on his lips. “It looks like you’re being a packrat. What happened to the food you brought to your room last night?”

“I ate it all.”

He watches her with an amused gleam in his eye and takes a bite of the muffin he stole. Then he opens her bedroom door and tells her to stay put. “Don’t wander the halls at night, little one. It’s not safe.”

And yet, he’s there the next night, stealing one of her treats and escorting her back to her room.

~~~~~~

The first time Peeta kills someone, she knows, because he cries—she’s no longer that naive to assume that ‘errands’ actually means something else. She hasn’t seen him cry in five years, yet when she finds him curled up in the corner of the guest room, he reminds her of the boy she met so long ago. 

She takes in his marred knuckles, dried blood crusted on his skin, sealing wounds that hadn’t been there that morning. His hair is limp, and the suit he wears is in ruins with holes and a long gash in his side. 

When his eyes find hers, they’re red with a bit of fear in them—no longer caused by squeaky floorboards and a scrawny eight-year-old.

Something conflicting tightens in her chest; one small voice tells her to go to her room like she’s been told many times before, and another tells her to stay. And because she’s never been one to properly listen to warnings, Katniss sits beside him, drawing her knees up to her chest.

She offers him one of the blueberry muffins in her hand, and it takes zero prompting this time for him to take it and slowly pick at the treat with shaky fingers. When it’s gone, she notices that the slight body tremors have stopped and his breathing is now even.

“Thank you, little one,” he says after a moment, and Katniss gives him a small smile.

He’s worth protecting.

~~~~~ 

Katniss can’t stop staring at him, and it’s… enlightening. 

She doesn’t know when the perceptions of a kid are washed away by that of a sixteen-year-old, but she definitely notices how nervous or flushed she becomes when Peeta’s eyes land on her. It’s not that she’s never been shy around him before, but that was from a child feeling praise from someone she admired. 

Now it’s from the fact that she’s never noticed the random gold flecks in otherwise blue irises, or that he is a head taller than most men she knew—his frame filling out the all-black suits almost too well. 

And have pens and silverware always looked that small and fragile in his hands?

When he’d place a hand on her lower back to guide her out of a room, or gently move her out of the way, she’d jump from how it felt like it was burning her through her clothes. But Peeta never seemed to think twice of it, and would simply drop his hand after it served its purpose.

She isn’t blind to the fact that others have long since realized these discoveries about Peeta—apparently, she’s the last to know. Katniss also hates that this will never change how Peeta sees her because she’ll only ever be his little one, and he’s a man who still has needs.

One evening, she stumbles upon Peeta with one of his ‘gifts’ from her grandfather, a tall brunette she’d seen before who has a penchant for short red skirts. It takes her all of twenty seconds to realize what is happening in the dark corridor before she turns on her heel and goes to sulk in her room.

In her bed, she selfishly imagines what Peeta is like as a lover. She wonders if his lower lip would become a little fuller if she worked it between her teeth, or if the gold flecks in his eyes would disappear completely from lust. Would he grip her hips in his massive hands and call her a brat for being too rough? Still, how can she not be when someone else is currently touching what is hers?  

And it’s from these fantasies that her hand travels underneath her silky sleep shorts, and she touches herself to thoughts of large hands and broad shoulders. When her orgasm washes over her in waves, her toes curling, she swears she can faintly hear the sound of expensive shoes stopping outside her bedroom door. Then, after a few seconds, the guest bedroom door closes and she releases the sigh she was holding.

The next day, he finds her in the library because it’s her birthday and he’s never missed a birthday in all nine years that they’ve known each other. He slides a rectangle box across the table she’s sitting at, but Katniss doesn’t look up, still embarrassed about what she’d witnessed the day before.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart,” he says, and this makes her look up because he only ever calls her that pet name when she behaves. 

The look she finds is soft and maybe a little ashamed.

 Ah, she stayed in her room… for once.

“Whatever,” she mumbles, glancing back down at her book that she hasn’t actually been reading. 

“It’s your birthday,” he tries again.

“Yeah, I know,” she sniffs. “Thanks for reminding me.”

She startles when a hand suddenly covers the page she’s staring at, and she glances up to Peeta’s blank expression. “Don’t be a brat.” Something about that word makes her flush, and she knows it has everything to do with the way she thought about him saying it last night. “Open your present before I leave to run errands.”

Katniss huffs a little, and Peeta replaces his hand on her book with his gift. She eyes the delicate bow on top, faintly wondering how his large fingers formed such an intricate knot. Then she tugs on an end, watching it fall apart before she brushes it off and flips open the lid.

Inside lays a black pearl attached to a delicate gold chain, all perfectly nestled between a smooth dark velvet. It’s definitely different from the other trinkets she’s received from Peeta on her birthday, and she stares at it a moment longer to figure out what it means.

But Peeta must read her thoughts. Or her confusion must be so blatant on her face because he plucks the necklace from the box, and Katniss watches him owlishly as he walks around the table until he’s standing behind her. 

She wordlessly pulls her hair off her neck, holding her breath when his steady fingers brush against her skin as he works the clasp on the chain. After what feels like eons (but was probably only thirty seconds), his hands fall and the pearl pendant dangles from around her neck.

Then he leans forward and whispers, “It means I’m yours, little one.”

~~~~~ 

It’s during one of her grandfather’s infamous soirées that she decides she’s tired of waiting for Peeta to make the first move. Surely it had been her age holding him back, but she’s nineteen now, and… nothing. 

He continues to tease her with gentle (although chaste) touches to the small of her back, and sometimes grazes her bottom lip with his thumb when he pushes a loose lock of hair out of her face. And when she nipped at the tip of his thumb once, he merely shook his head even though his breathing had picked up slightly.

“We can’t,” he’d insisted, shaking his head. But he had kept his thumb in her mouth, a firm pressure against her tongue while he tried to regulate his breathing again.

She’s never been so frustrated in her life, but she has a plan.

She walks into the large sitting room wearing a black floor length dress that shows off a little more skin than what she’s used to. However, her heart soars to the ceiling when she notices the tall brooding figure standing near one of the long windows watching her with an unreadable expression on his face. 

Good.

Katniss moves around the room with her mission in mind, making sure that she is always in Peeta’s line of sight. It becomes easier when a stocky gentleman with dark shoulder-length hair takes it upon himself to talk to her, and Katniss lays it on thick. 

She touches his chest when he makes her laugh, slides closer to him when he whispers something in her ear. And when there’s a break in the conversation, she glances over to make sure Peeta is still watching—he is.

He still keeps his distance, except now there’s a firm set to his jaw.

Hm.

The gentleman—Marvel is his name—tells her about his travels in Greece and Katniss leans up to whisper replies in his ear, closing Peeta’s view off from her completely. It doesn’t matter what she says, what matters is that when she moves away from Marvel, Peeta is standing right there. And Katniss can’t help but smirk a little.

“Katniss,” he says, voice like a knife’s edge. It’s clearly meant as a warning, but Katniss’s grin grows wider.

“Who’s this?’ Marvel asks.

Never taking her eyes off Peeta’s face, she answers, “Oh, this is my bodyguard. Don’t mind him. He often plays nice.”

Then Peeta storms off, and Katniss can’t contain her triumph as she excuses herself and trails after him.

#taylerwrites #prompt 28 #Springtime Edition 2021 #submission

[pennyserenade]

tags: nameless female oc x javier peña, nameless female oc x javier pena, angst. rating: t ( teen ) warnings: pregnancy, mentions of birth.  word count: 2.5k+ summary: something beautiful happens in colombia   notes: i recommend listening to this while you read because this is the vibe of the chapter, i think. you’re more than welcome to listen to the english version too, but i just think the spanish one hits a little different. oh and maybe this  original gif by: @pedrc-pascal 

como flores que florecen 

scene eleven, scenes from a marriage

As the feeling of joy expands in chest and meets his eyes, Javi comes to the conclusion that it has been a very long time since he has felt happy in a momental way. It wasn’t something he was very good at measuring in the first place, after all, his happiness. Somewhere along the way though, Javier had begun to mistake being alive and feeling alive as the same thing--two sides of the same coin he tossed every day--but now as he looks at this kid of his, he gets it. He understands. It’s different, feels different.

He peels back the blanket she’s wrapped the baby in to see him better, and he squirms in her arms, displeased. He begins to whimper and she rocks him gently, smiling up at Javier. He smiles back at her, and he sees it in her eyes, how happy she is too. It’s been a long time for them both, he knows, and he wants to apologize because he knows all of it has to do with him. He has been unmistakably stupid, on top of cruel and selfish, and she’s had to endure it all-- unflinching--for the most part. She’ll never know how sorry he is for that. 

Javi holds his arms together and she hands the baby to him carefully. He lets out a soft chuckle when the baby squirms against him, in disbelief that this could be his, and he watches as his little mouth opens to let out a silent cry. Javi shushes him and mimics the same rocking motion his wife had done just moments before, and miraculously, it works. The baby stops looking so thoroughly displeased and rests against him, undisturbed once more. 

After many months of startling himself to death over the notion of being someone’s father, Javi had started to try his best to block it out completely. He had thought that if didn’t think about it, if he pushed it aside, then he could prolong it a little longer somehow. Sometimes he did a good job at it, forgetting, but he could never block it out for long, and not at all after she had confronted him about it. It was all he had thought about for the past few months. 

He was right about one thing: Nothing could have prepared him for this moment. But it wasn’t like he had thought; Javi doesn’t want to let him go. He’s so little and he has his nose, and he feels so, so light. It still feels surreal, sure, as if this is a dream, but the very fact that it feels like a dream and not the nightmare is beyond what Javi had imagined completely.  

He wishes he could’ve been there when she had him, but he’d been in Medellín and she hadn’t told him until after, when the baby was already about four hours old. She knew Javi couldn’t have made it, and she didn’t want to make him feel as though he should try, so she did it alone, as she did most things. She doesn’t hold it against him either--doesn’t even act like it hurts her. She just smiles and smiles and tells him how perfect the baby is. Doesn’t even tell him how much it had hurt, or what it felt like, or anything other than he’s everything she’s ever wanted. When Javi’s eyes meet hers, he knows that she’s being completely sincere too. He’s never loved her so much, and he’s never felt so completely unworthy of her. 

She stands close to him as he holds the baby, watchful that he props his neck up and that nothing is wrong with him, and Javi can’t help but smile at her overprotectiveness already. 

“I’m not going to drop him,” he assures, laughing lightly. “He’s okay, baby.”

“He’s so little,” she says. Her eyebrows furrow with concern, but she takes a step back from him nevertheless. “I’m sorry, it’s just been him and me for the past couple of days and I’m already so scared.”

Javi nods, and tries his best not to feel bad about that. “I know.” 

She grimaces. “Oh, Jav, I didn’t mean it like that.”

He puts on a warm smile. “Let’s forget about that, okay?” he whispers. “I know you didn’t mean it like that and I’m not going to be sad about it. I just don’t want...” he searches for words. “I just don’t want right now to go away so fast.”

She understands. “Me tampoco.” 

She returns his smile back, and they stare at each other for a moment, taking this in. 

Between them blooms once more what had brought them together in the first place: a sense of hope, and a place of respite. It’s been so long--too long--since either of them had that much, and they acknowledge this silently. 

Years have aged them; he’s got wrinkles forming around his eyes and sometimes he looks as though the youthful person in him has left completely. She’s lost some of that twinkle in her eyes, too, and subtle as they are, there’s wrinkles that form between her brows. They’ve become different people in this country. They wear time on them psychically and they show it emotionally. In this country they had started young and alone, and they will leave it together, with a new person. Even if it is all for shit, and everything he did here counts for nothing, Javier will always have this: the family he had created in this country. The person he had found here. 

They continue to smile at each other.

“We’re going to be okay,” she tells him, just to say it because she feels she must. 

Javi nods his head in agreement, before looking away and back at the baby in his arms. “Yeah, we will be,” he says, hushed. He takes him in again, and smiles softly as he yawns. 

Javi’s father had once told him that he’d never understand how much he cared about him until he had a kid of his own. He had told that to him many moons ago, before Javi had even left to train for the DEA, when it was just all pipe dreams and big words. As much as Javi doesn’t like to admit his father is right even now, holding this little boy--Julián, his name is, after an uncle his wife loved--Javi cannot deny it. Javi would do anything to keep him safe. Anything. He’d move mountains for this little boy, and he already can’t wait to see the person he will become, even though he’s just meet him as he is, four days old. All he can see is the future, which is so much more than what he can say about the past few months, when every moment felt borrowed and all he could do was stay in the present because thinking about the future made him so damn depressed. 

It’s still going to be hard, especially when he’s going to have to leave them, but at least this is something to keep him going. He’s got himself into quite the mess at work, way over his head than he ever intended to be and without the tools to correct such faulty mistakes, but here, it’s okay, just like she had assured. It’s all okay. He’ll make sure of it, make sure that nothing will ever harm this child and his wife, because they are all that matter. 

It’s taken a little over thirteen years and a plethora of errors, but as Javi stands in the living room looking at this child, he’s finally come to understand it. He just wishes he had understood it sooner, but he knows now, and all he can do is be better. 

Despite not really wanting to, Javi lays the baby down in the bassinet to his right, mindful of his neck as she had warned. Javi lingers, ensuring Julián won’t fuss or wake in his new position, and his wife goes to insist that she’ll hold him if he doesn’t want to. Javi cuts her off though, meeting her halfway. 

He cups her face in her hands and presses his lips onto hers, kissing her so softly, so gently, that every inch of her melts into him without an ounce of resistance. She gives him everything and he gives it back, just like before. It’s balanced. It’s honest. 

He rests his forehead on hers, not taking his hands away from her face just yet. She puts her own on top of his, securing them. They breathe each other in, with no rush to move on from the moment they’re sharing. They remain quiet, just being, just taking it slow. Slow, slow, slow, so unlike the fast pace of their lives usually. Colombia seems to still itself outside, as if it knows what’s happening and wants them to have this moment too. Everything is so goddamn perfect. 

“Thank you,” he tells her. “For everything. For him and marrying me and staying by me even when I don’t deserve it. I would be very little without you.” 

“That’s not true,” she whispers. “I know we’ve struggled magnificently the past year, but I have never stopped thinking of you as a good man, Jav. When I first had him, and I looked down at him, all I could think was: ‘I’m so happy this little thing is half of Javier.’ All I have ever wanted for you is to get how good I think you are, and now we have this perfect little boy who already looks so much like you, and for all the love you give him, I hope you can give yourself some of it too. I know he will inherit so much of your good—or at least I can only hope.”

He kisses her again. “Te amo,” he tells her against her lips. “I’m sorry I’ve made this past year so hard for us. For you.”

She pats his hand. “It’s going to get better,” she says, voice certain. “We’ve made it through so much already, and we’re almost there, mi amor. Just a little longer, I can feel it.” 

He hopes she’s right. He doesn’t know what life will look like after Colombia—can’t even really comprehend that—but this has made him more comfortable with the idea of something more. 

“What do you want to do, after?” he asks. “When this is all over, I’ll take you wherever.” 

She loosens herself from his embrace, taking his hands off her face, and instead wrapping herself around his torso. She rests her chin against his chest. “I don’t know,” she shrugs. “Home for a little, I suppose. Yours and then mine in California, and after, maybe México? You said your dad lives close, didn’t you?”

“Yeah, on the border. All that separates him from it is some water.”

“Yeah, then Mexico. I never got to go because my mom couldn’t and I want to meet more of my family, and yours too, if they’re down there.” 

He smiles. “I’d like that. I haven’t been since I was a kid.”

“Maybe we’ll come back here someday too, if you think you can stomach it.” 

“This place is home,” he tells her, “But I think moving away from it and resituating for a long time will do me good. Maybe we can come back when we’re old, and retire in the jungles.” 

“The jungles?” she raises an eyebrow, grinning. “I’ve always been more of a hill person myself. Do you think that Pablo's prison will still be vacant by then? From what I saw it looked nice.” 

He chuckles. “I think so. I know he’ll never be there again, at least, that’s for sure. We’ll have to remodel, though. Lots of bullet holes and narco memorabilia right now—or at least, that’s how I remember it.”

She curls her nose. “Maybe we can build something of our own by then.” 

He nods his head. “Maybe.” 

Behind him on the wall, the phone begins to ring. He looks over his shoulder and then back at her. 

“Expecting someone to call?” he asks her. She shakes her head no. “Should I answer it?” 

“Yeah,” she says. “It could be your dad or something.” 

Javi lets out a sigh. He lets go of her and picks the phone off the hook, turning around to face her as he answers with an “Hello?”

A smile tugs at the ends of his lips as he listens. He mouths to her, “It’s your mother” before he begins to speak to her in Spanish. He tells her how beautiful the baby is, and that yes, they’ll send pictures and yes, they got her package with all the baby clothes. He tells her something about her daughter still being beautiful and she can’t help but grin to herself as she peeks into the bassinet Julián rests in now. He finishes up by asking if she wants to speak to her, and then he stands by the phone, extending it in her direction. 

She climbs up the stairs and takes it from him, and they switch positions, with him by the bassinet and her turned to watch him. He’s saying something to him, the baby, but she can’t make it out as her mom speaks. 

She turns back around towards the wall and finishes up the conversation, promising all Javi had before telling her mother that she loves her. When she finishes, she sits the phone back on the hook again and she turns to watch Javi once more. 

Without saying anything, she disappears into the other room. 

Javi is too enchanted to really notice her short absence and is only drawn back down to earth when he hears the stutter of a camera lens in front of him. He smiles at her. 

“Your mom is inspiring for you, isn't she?” he jokes. 

She takes the camera away from her face. “Pick him up again,” she instructs. She ignores his comment verbally, but there’s a hint of a grin reserved for his comment pressed onto her lips, and that’s good enough for him. 

He takes him out of the bassinet again but this time, Javi finds he’s a whole let less forgiving. Julián lets him hear for the first time one of those healthy cries he had heard in the background when she had called him from the hospital. The shutter clicks and he looks up, eyebrows furrowed. 

“That’s going to be an awful photo,” he tells her. “He’s crying.”

She shakes her head. “No,” she tells him, “That’s a photo with two of my favorite people in the entire world.” She takes the baby from Javi’s arms and hands him the camera.“Nothing about that photo could ever be awful to me.” 

Nothing about this moment will ever be ugly to me, she thinks. Nothing. Even the imperfect moment when he began to cry and Javi had looked down at him, concerned, would be perfect when reflected on, she was sure. She would always remember this day fondly. 

Maybe this isn’t the marriage she had envisioned for herself thirteen years ago when they had first gotten married, but it’s the one she wants now. Time has aged them and changed so much about the trajectory of their lives, but preserved is the love she feels for Javi, and now for their child.  

This is scene eleven from a marriage, one that has a little more hope than it did before.

JAVI :  @wyn-n-tonic , @rosiefridayrogersunday , @disgruntledspacedad , @melaniermblt , @theorganasolo , @amneris21 , @hb8301 , @penajavier , @darnitdraco , @over300books , @dobbyjen , @paperbag33 , @rebel-fanfare​

EVERYTHING : @astroboots​ , @frannyzooey​ , @wyn-n-tonic​ , @rosiefridayrogersunday​ , @melaniermblt​ , @theorganasolo​​ , @amneris21​ , @honestly-shite​ , @over300books​ , @elegantduckturtle​, @pbeatriz​ 

SCENES : @gravegoth​​ , @sarahjkl82-blog​​ , @cmonkeepmoving​​

#javier pena x reader #javier pena x oc #javier pena x nameless oc #javier pena x female oc #javier peña x reader #javier peña x oc #javier peña x female oc #javier peña x nameless oc #narcos fic #pedro pascal #jose pedro balmaceda pascal #pedro pascal fanfic #narcos

[ffangirlingsince2001]

Nothing Alike: I

Description: Geralt of Rivia has been tasked with taking out a fellow Witcher who has decided to settle down in a town. She has no intention of leaving and Geralt is forced to take matters into his own hands.

Geralt x Reader

Warnings: (future as well as present) violence, angst, smut, fluff, language

A/N: Hello and thank you for choosing to read Nothing Alike. If you read my last series with Geralt you know that things can get pretty dark, but for the most part (at least right now) this story is going to be a bit more light hearted.

Masterlist

He prayed the rumors weren’t true.

He prayed that the dreaded letter he had received was nothing more than hyperbolic ramblings of the townsfolk.

He prayed that he wouldn’t have to raise his sword at all.

He just wanted to sleep, to be free of monsters for just a few days, to lay beneath the stars beside his horse while a fire cooked a rabbit he had caught and he dozed to the sound of crickets in the trees. That’s all he really wanted, and yet he was marching through the woods towards another town that had requested his presence. The sun was warm, filling the air with the rich scents of heated forest. It caressed his neck and shoulders, as if lulling him into the sleep he so desperately craved.

It had been a long time since he had been to the town that summoned him. When he had first been released back into the wild as a Witcher. 200 years ago, and it was still the dirtiest town he had ever seen. The moment he stepped inside he felt as if an extra layer of grime had been added to everything he owned. The air was thick and clogged and the windows were all shuttered closed, but strangest of all was the lack of people. The sun was still in high noon, yet there was no one. No one bustled to finish their shopping and no children played in the streets, it was like a ghost town. The only sound was the crows sitting on the rooftops and a very distance rumbling. He moved towards the center of the town, hoping the find an explanation for the silence.

And an explanation he received. Surrounding a bar was a mob of people, screaming and stopping their feet. That at least explained the rumbling, but it failed to explain why they were here, and what they were screaming about. He shoved his way through the crowd, knocking over the angry townspeople as he went.

“Hey, we don’t need another Witcher in this town to take our money,” an angry woman sneered at him, spitting on his shoes. He ignored her and continued forward, but her angry cry seemed to have alerted the crowd to his presence and pushing through the crowd was growing more difficult with each step. Finally, he made it to the center and found a crude fighting ring. Inside the ring was a cloud of dust and two people rolling around in the dirt.

One seemed much smaller than the other and he was unsure why such an unmatched fight had drawn such a crowd, until the bigger opponent let out a howl of pain. The smaller leapt away and then with a well-placed kick, knocked out a few teeth. Geralt dodged the molars and moved closer, trying to get a better look at the two opponents. Another few hits and the smaller was on top of the larger, a strong arm around his throat. The larger staggered backwards, slamming his opponent into the wall but they didn’t budge, only squeezing tighter until he tumbled to the ground, face blue.

“Tap out,” came the cry and without hesitation he did so. The smaller opponent climbed off and the crowd booed, clearly not in favor of the winner. The winner did not seem to care as they bowed, their hair tumbling out to reveal a woman behind all that grime. She was grinning as she collected her gold from the unhappy townsfolk. Her eyes flashed across his and he stepped back, startled by the gold irises that mimicked his own.

She was a witcher like him, and here she was wasting her life by robbing people of their gold. She walked towards the bar, her bag of coins jingling like bells on a sleigh. He pushed through the crowd and followed her into the bar, stalking her towards the booth in the back corner that he would have chosen anyway if she had not been there first.

He sat down across from her, but she didn’t acknowledge him, instead counting the gold that she had collected while outside.

“The bastards cheated me,” she sighed before glancing up and smiling. “Do you need something?”

“You’re a witcher.”

“Ah yes, an observant fellow, so are you.”

“You’re taking advantage of these people. You know you’ll win, it’s not a fair fight.”

“Our whole lives are unfair.”

“We were not made for this, we were made to save-,”

“Save ourselves, survive. Darling, you owe them nothing. How old are you anyway, a couple hundred years?”

“A few,” he growled, and she laughed, sliding the gold back into her pouch.

“Makes sense, you older witchers are all about tradition.” He wanted to throw her against the wall, anger boiling in a deep pit of his stomach. Here she was insulting him, and she didn’t even have the decency to offer him her full attention. She was braiding her hair!

“And by that you mean?”

“You think you’re the first Witcher with a vendetta to come around here and try to end all my fun?” He did his best to not let a look of surprise pass over his face, but she caught it anyway. “Oh you did, well if it makes you feel any better you’re the politest. The others had no sense of conversation, just show up and try to drag me out of town or kill me. You’ve all ranted about the same thing though, tradition.”

“You are a disgrace to your school-,”

“The school I didn’t choose to attend you mean, or maybe I’m a disgrace to the Witcher who brought me in, who convinced my mother that him taking me away was for the best because she couldn’t afford to feed us. Maybe I’m a disgrace to my dear old mother, but she’s dead now and honestly I wouldn’t give a fuck even if she was alive.” She stood up and turned towards the door but Geralt caught her wrist, yanking her back into the booth.

“Leave this town or I will be forced to make you.”

“You won’t be the first to try, and you won’t be the last to fail. This town has been trying to get me out for months. No one can make me do anything I don’t want to do, that’s the only gift they gave me, power to get ride of invasive pricks like you. So why don’t you move on, Witcher,” she spat. She yanked away but he didn’t let go of her arm, tightening his grip with every moment. She rolled her eyes and pulled out a needle point dagger, driving it through his arm and into the table.

He growled like a tortured animal, grinding his teeth trying not to let her escape his grasp, but she slipped out and disappeared into the unhappy crowd. He yanked the blade from his arm and charged after her. He watched her long braid whip around the corner, towards the inn portion of pub.

The stairs creaked under his feet, crying for reprieve but nothing slowed him down. He was going to drag her out of this town if it killed him. A door slammed behind him and the young witcher was grinning at him from a shutterless window. She blew him a kiss and fell backwards, dropping out of view. He rushed to the ledge and with a sneer she pulled herself out of the hay in which she had landed and took off down the street. He jumped, not bothering to brush off the hay and taking off after her.

The streets were crowded again with merchants and buyers, now that there was no desperate fight to rid themselves of a witcher everyone could continue with their day and make Geralt’s life a little more difficult than it had to be. While the complained about her under their breath it almost seemed that they were protecting her, rolling carts into his way and sending chickens after him.

Throughout the chase, he never let her out of her sight, trying to study her on the run. He was big and strong, a clear advantage if it came to hand to hand combat but he could tell she was quick and clever. Darting in and out of the crowd, using magic to gently shift things out of her way. It was skilled magic, one that he had never seen such a young witcher use so well. She must have been one of the best at school, an idol to all those who desired to become the best. But she had also been rebellious, the scars that creeped above her neckline proved that.  There was no anger in her eyes when she looked at him, only annoyance and small plea that he would just leave her alone. It was clear she had an idea about life that she could never achieve, but from the way she ran he was sure she would rather die than not try.

She darted into an alley and he followed/ When he finally came close, she was scaling the wall, punching handholds into the walls with very bloody fingers and moving faster than he would have expected. With the blunt edge of his sword he smacked the back of her knees, sending her tumbling to the ground.

From the ground she eyed his sword and backed away like a wild animal that had been cornered. He didn’t move while she stood, her back pressed against the stone wall. There was still no anger in her eyes, now, instead of annoyance, it was a wild look he had only found in rabid dogs.

“Not so tough now,” he taunted, drawing nearer, is sword prepared to defend whatever she threw at him. She barked a hoarse laugh and he watched as her fingers crept to her belt. There was no sword, only a small knife that would do nothing against his sword.

“They always said to go down fighting,” she replied and he shook his head.

“You don’t have to go down at all, just leave and you’ll never hear from me again.”

“Until I set up in another town and their lord calls for you to exterminate me, you don’t get your gold if I’m not dead. That’s why I had to kill them, every one he sent my way, because no will ever tell me what to do again.”

“What’s your name?”

“Why does it matter?”

“Just humor me.”

“Y/N.”

“I’m Geralt.”

“I don’t care who you are, only one of us is going to walk away from this, and if it’s me I couldn’t care less what the fuck your name is.”

“That’s where you’re wrong, we’re both going to walk away from this and you’re going to need to know my name,” he told her very calmly before swinging his sword and catching the side of her head with the blunt edge once more. Completely unconscious, she dropped to the ground, her knife tumbling from her hands.

#the witcher #the witcher x reader #The witcher Angst #the witcher fanfic #the witcher fanfiction #the witcher smut #the witcher fluff #Geralt #geralt of rivia #geralt of rivia fanfiction #geralt fanfic #geralt x reader #geralt x y/n #geralt of rivia smut #geralt of rivia x reader #geralt smut #geralt of rivia fanfic #geralt of rivia x reader fluff #geralt of rivia x reader smut #geralt of rivia x reader angst

[a-small-batch-of-dragons]

Did You Know?

Prompt: the merlin fic you wrote with a crying arthur who didn't realize he had a hand in normalizing merlin to physical pain/punishment is HEARTBREAKING and i couldn't help but think while reading it that merlin may have just assumed that the knights and arthur //knew// visting knights were handsy w him and just didnt care, like he just thought it was normal and they would expect nothing less. anyway if u wanna write something that has that kind of idea/vibe i'd be delighted to read it! love u <3

Ahh yes more h/c here we go

Read on Ao3 Part 2

Warnings: visiting nobles and knights are dicks. implied/referenced rape/non-con and abuse NOTHING EXPLICIT

Pairings: merthur, can be platonic or romantic I don’t care

Word Count: 3031

 Merlin is…confused.

 He’s doing his job as a servant—not that he’s begrudging his position that much, destiny is destiny, after all—and putting up with all the things that servants are supposed to put up with.

The learning curve was very steep, don’t get him wrong. Coming from Ealdor, where the only authority figure he absolutely had to listen to was his mum, and straight into Camelot’s complex authority structure with rules and consequences and all the messy trappings of those horrid make-believes he and Will used to do when they were little boys. Hell, he ended his first full day in Camelot arrested, relying only on Gaius’s social powers in court to get him released. He’s not exactly a beacon of well-mannerisms.

 So if it took him a while to get used to the type of work Arthur was going to have him do, that’s fine! He’s never had to put armor on anyone before, let alone the Crown Prince, who expected him to do all that and then some. He’s never known how to clean shiny pieces of metal that just serve to attract more attention than they’re worth, they never had shiny pieces of metal other than coin. And he’s certainly never known how to dodge swords being swung at his head. Never.

 It wasn’t expected—no, it wasn’t, you prat—for him to be able to shrug on all these new responsibilities, even if he had been trained as a servant, because he’s never done them before. Thank the gods for Gwen, honestly, who was more than happy to make sure he at least knew how to hold a sword without cutting himself.

 “Here’s the next one,” she’d called, handing him the next training sword from the batch, “now, try again.”

 “This is the rag, this is the polish, and we just—ow!”

 “Try not to polish the edge of the blade, Merlin.”

 “I knew that,” he had muttered sheepishly, rubbing the cloth over the flat of the blade this time, “but thank you.”

 Gwen had rolled her eyes fondly. “Just keep trying, you’re doing great.”

 So he had just…done his best to learn what to do. Which would’ve been easier had he also not been learning how to act.

 ‘Yes, sire.’

 ‘No, sire.’

 ‘As you wish, sire.’

 ‘Sire’ this and ‘sire’ that and bloody hell, why is he not allowed to say anyone’s bloody name?

 Formalities have never really been Merlin’s strong suit, not that he’s ever really needed them. And now that he has to use them, he’s starting to regret not paying attention to his mum’s scoldings. Just a little bit. Not that much. It’s not entirely his fault, is it, that those lectures were so boring and there were things he could’ve been doing.

 But here…

 Here, if he doesn’t address someone the right way, he gets cuffed around the head. The first time it happened, his hand flew to his head in shock. It wasn’t a particularly hard slap—he’s had worse walking into the door by himself—but the fact that someone was allowed to hit him, was expected to hit him, and it was his own fault was…jarring.

 He learns his lesson about trying to hit back much quicker.

 He still slips up from time to time, even now, after so many years, but his reflexes have gotten a lot better. Goblets, combs, hunks of bread, boots, staffs, just about every object he can think of, he’s had thrown at his head. With Arthur, it’s fine, he can snipe back perfectly well on his own, and it’s not like he’s going anywhere. He just bites back enough to make it a little more bearable. And besides, Arthur hasn’t ever seriously hurt him, maybe because he’s always lauding about how strong he is and how weak Merlin. Doesn’t want to break him.

 And he can get away with it with some of the knights. The close ones, sure. Leon—well, he doesn’t try that much shite with Leon. Leon’s terrifying, not just because he’s one of the oldest knights and the longest-serving of Arthur’s inner circle, but because he knows things. Leon’s perception scares the hell out of Merlin, not in the least because he’s got so much to hide.

 Does he ever think Leon would seriously hurt him? No, but he might tell people who would.

 Percival is a big man. His arms are about the size of Merlin’s skull. He doesn’t want to get near that man’s bad side, even if he hasn’t found it yet.

 Elyan is sneaky. He’s got just enough say to be dangerous, not enough to be an obvious suspect. And he’s got Gwen on his side—or more specifically, Gwen’s got him on her side. Gwen would never hurt him, he knows, he trusts her too much.

 Lancelot is the only one he’s not afraid of, him and Gwaine. Mainly because he knows that they know.

 …look, you do what Merlin’s been doing for as long as he’s been doing it, you slip up. It happens.

 But Lancelot never looked at him differently. Never raised a hand to him to hurt him, always touched him gently, spoke softly, sparred with him in good faith. Even when he swings a spear at him in jest, it’s never too fast to actually bruise him if it connects.

 Gwaine slaps him on the shoulder, claps him on the back, hard enough to bruise sometimes, but he cares. He hides it well—well, sort of—and looks out for Merlin when Lancelot can’t. But he knows Gwaine has a breaking point, and he’s not super keen on looking for it.

 He can get away with it. A little. Not a lot.

 But only with them.

 With the other knights…

 One of the hardest things he had to learn was that no one cared.

 When a knight smacks him over the head with the flat of a dulled blade, it doesn’t matter that the sight of a blade swinging at his freezes terror in his throat, nor that the ring of the blade won’t go away for three hours. The others will just laugh and tell him to move his arse.

 When a knight knocks the equipment out of his hands and snarls at him to get moving, it doesn’t matter that it’s often accompanied by a boot to his ribs. He’ll always get elbowed in the exact same place later and they won’t care about his wince.

 When a knight decides that he’s had enough of Merlin just looking at him, he—

 The other thing that Merlin’s had to learn very, very quickly, is that it’s better him than the other servants.

 He has Gaius. Gaius will patch him up, no questions asked. And when he can’t go to Gaius, it’s not like he’ll be caught lurking suspiciously in his own quarters. And when he can’t do that, he has his magic.

 None of the others do.

 So he learns. He picks up the things he needs to know, puts his head down, and bears it.

 That’s what servants are supposed to do.

 So you can imagine that when the others look absolutely horrified as he explains to them that he knows how this works, he’s learned, he’s confused.

 “Come on, guys, it’s not like the other servants don’t know this.”

 “It’s funny,” Gwaine growls, his fist tightening on the table, “how you think that makes this any better.”

 Merlin rolls his eyes. “I’m not a gossip, Gwaine—“

 “That,” Elyan says, “is not true.”

 “—okay fine, I enjoy a bit of the servant’s gossip as well as anyone, but not about this!” He shakes his head. “It’s fine, they know about it, it’s not like anyone cares.”

 “See, Merlin,” Lancelot says quietly, “that’s where you’re wrong.”

 Merlin frowns. What are they talking about? Who’s noticed? Is he doing it wrong? What does he need to fix?

 See, his confusion only grows when he voices those concerns and the knights only seem to grow more upset.

 “I can’t believe this,” Gwaine mutters, turning away, “how long has this been happening, Merlin?”

 “Which part?”

 Gwaine is doing a remarkable impersonation of someone who is extremely constipated. “…all of it.”

 “I mean, it began as soon as I set foot in Camelot, if you want to go from the very beginning.”

 Leon swallows. “And if we asked for you to be…more specific?”

 Merlin huffs, throwing his arms up. “Why are you so concerned about this? It’s nothing to worry about!”

 “You’re being abused, Merlin,” Arthur—since when has Arthur been this quiet?—says finally, looking at Merlin the same way he looked at Morgana when Uther strangled her against the back of the throne—see? It’s just something that happens here— “that’s definitely something to worry about.”

 Merlin scoffs. “I’m not being abused, I’m just being treated like a servant.”

 “If that’s what you think being treated like a servant means,” Gwaine says, standing, “then this conversation is going to take a lot longer than we thought.”

 In response, Percival moves to stand in front of the door. Merlin sighs.

 “You don’t have to block the exit, Percival, I know I’m not allowed to leave.”

 A choked-off sound comes from Merlin’s left, followed by a muffled curse. Percival shakes his head.

 “I’m over here to make sure no one else comes in to hurt you,” the knight says calmly, “not to make sure you don’t leave.”

 “But if you want to,” Elyan says quickly, “you can.”

 “No, no, I know a trap when I see one, no thank you.”

 “It’s not a trap, Merlin,” Lancelot says, even as he looks to be about two seconds from crying for some reason, “if you truly wish to leave, you can. We won’t stop you.”

 Merlin raises an eyebrow. “…sure.”

 Arthur lowers his head. Merlin frowns, watching his shoulders tense.

 “Are you alright?”

 He gets his answer in the form of many unshed tears welling up in Arthur’s eyes as he raises his head.

 “No, Merlin,” he says in a remarkably steady voice, “I’m not. But don’t worry about me.”

 “That’s my job,” Merlin insists, striding forward, “let me help.”

 Arthur catches him gently—gently?—gently by the elbows as he reaches for him, smiling sadly.

 “Can I give you another way to help me?”

 Merlin swallows heavily. “…what does it entail, exactly?”

 “For starters, explaining why that question has you shaking in your boots.”

 “I’m not—“ Merlin looks down to see Arthur’s hands are just about the only thing holding him up— “oh.”

 “Sit,” Leon encourages, bringing a chair over and crouching in front of it. Around him, the knights lower themselves to the ground, with the exception of Percival, still by the door.

 “Merlin,” Leon calls again, “can I ask you some questions? If you don’t want to answer any of them, that’s alright, but may I ask?”

 Merlin blinks. “Sure?”

 He gets a nod of thanks. “What do you understand your duties as a servant to be?”

 “To help with the running of the castle and take care of Arthur’s needs.”

 “Which are?”

 “What—“

 “Please,” Arthur says softly, “please, Merlin, I know it sounds silly, but…please?”

 Well, he’s never been very good at saying no to upset Arthur. He sighs.

 “Keeping his chambers clean, keeping track of his laundry, dressing him in the mornings, polishing his armor, bringing him food, escorting him to court affairs, and any other odd jobs he asks me to do.”

 Leon nods. “And what about the knights? Do you have duties with us, too?”

 “I’m supposed to help you train and see to your immediate needs with those, too.”

 “Such as?”

 “Equipment, water, food, chambers—“

 “Chambers?” Lancelot frowns. “Why would you need to see to our chambers?”

 “Not yours, but the visiting knights.” Merlin frowns as Arthur’s hand twitches on his elbow. “What?”

 “Do they presume that you are their servant,” Leon asks in a low voice, “when you do so?”

 “I am, aren’t I?” He looks to Arthur. “You assign me to them.”

 “No, Merlin,” Arthur corrects gently, still looking like he’s about two seconds from crying and still taking Merlin by surprise at how soft he’s being, “I ask you to get them settled, that’s all.”

 Merlin blinks. “Oh. Uh…”

 “What do they ask you to do,” Leon asks, “as their servant?”

 He furrows his brow, trying to remember. “Uh, change their sheets, see to their armor, start a fire, bring them dinner…”

 Leon raises an eyebrow when he trails off. “Anything else?”

 “They, um—“

 Hands. Hands on his skin. Voices in his ear.

 “Merlin.” Arthur gives him a shake. “Merlin.”

 “Sorry,” he says instantly, “I just…”

 He trails off again when he sees the absolutely heartbroken look on Arthur’s face.

 “…Arthur?”

 “Why,” Arthur whispers, “why do you let them…do that?”

 Merlin frowns. “It’s fine.”

 “It’s most certainly not fine.”

 “It is,” Merlin argues, “it’s what servants are supposed to do, anyway, and it’s better me than the others.”

 Gwaine muffles a curse again, and to his surprise, so does Lancelot.

 “Merlin,” Leon says, calling his attention with how hoarse he sounds, “Merlin, why is it better you than the others if there’s nothing wrong with what’s happening to you?”

 Oh.

 Oh.

 Oh, no.

 Merlin’s hands start to shake.

 Something in his throat wells up and pushes against his jaw. It hurts. The bruises on his back start to smart.

 “Why do you care,” he says instead, “why now?”

 “We didn’t know,” Leon whispers, sounding every bit the man confessing his worst sin, “and we are so, so sorry that we didn’t.”

 “And if you’re asking why we care,” Lancelot says, equally heartfelt, “then we are more sorry than you could ever know.”

 Merlin frowns. “But you lot do it too.”

 The room freezes.

 Arthur yanks his hands away from Merlin like he’s been burned. Leon stifles a noise of his own as Elyan’s mouth drops open.

 “What,” Gwaine manages after a few moments, “the fuck does that mean?”

 “You—you hit me, you order me around, you—“ Merlin swings his head back and forth, looking at their shell-shocked faces— “why are you all looking at me like that?”

 “Because you’ve just told us we’ve been abusing you since the moment you set foot in Camelot, Merlin,” Arthur whispers, tears finally starting to roll down his cheeks.

 “But you knew!” Merlin’s hands fly to his hair as he cries out. “You knew this was happening, you could see it happening and you didn’t care!”

 “I’m sorry, Merlin—“

 “If we knew it was like this—“

 “If you think we’d ever hurt you like that—“

 “No, gods no, Merlin—“

 “Of course we care—“

 “Merlin,” Arthur whispers, holding out a shaking hand, “Merlin, please, please believe us that we would never be okay with you being mistreated like that. Like this.”

 And godsdamnit all, the amount of sheer heartbreak in the room is enough to coax a lump into Merlin’s throat and spring tears down his cheeks. Arthur lets out a wounded noise as he sees them, reaching forward to gently, still gently, wipe them away. The naked concern on not just his face, but the others’ faces as well, only encourages more.

 “I’m so sorry, Merlin,” he keeps saying, “I’m so, so, sorry.”

 “Arthur, I—“ He’s cut off by a gasping sob— “Arthur—“

 “Shh, shh, shh,” Arthur hushes frantically, cupping Merlin’s face in both hands, “shh, shh, Merlin, it’s alright, no one’s ever going to hurt you again, I swear it—“

 “You’re damn right,” he hears Gwaine mutter as the other knights agree.

 “—and I’m so sorry that you thought I’d be okay with it, that I was helping—“ Arthur’s voice cracks— “no, no, you’re—you’re my Merlin—I never want to see you hurt like that—I never mean to hurt you—“

 “I know,” Merlin murmurs, “I—I know you don’t.”

 Arthur, gentle Arthur, pulls him into the softest hug he’s ever had, cradling him like he’s something precious, something fragile, something to be savored and oh, oh, gods—

 “Easy,” he hears Leon soothe, “easy does it now, come sit—come sit with us.”

 He can’t quite manage to pry himself out of Arthur’s grip as he feels the knights come closer, huddling around the two of them in a protective circle. He even hears Percival’s heavy steps coming closer, a silent guardian, keeping watch.

 “I don’t—“ he gasps— “I don’t understand.”

 “We’ll help you,” Arthur promises in his ear, “we’ll help you figure it out.”

 “But if anyone ever,” Gwaine growls, “and I mean ever does anything like that to you again, you tell us.”

 Merlin nods frantically. “Okay, okay, I’ll tell you.”

 “Thank you, Merlin,” Leon murmurs, “may I…?”

 Merlin nods and Leon’s hand cards tenderly through his hair.

 “Oh, Merlin,” he mumbles, almost to himself, “you came into our lives blustering about how servants were people too…and we never noticed this?”

 The knight shudders and steels himself.

 “We will do better.” He gives Merlin’s head one last pat. “We all will.”

 “I can—“ Merlin swallows— “I can…ask for help?”

 “Yes, Merlin,” Arthur promises instantly, “you can ask me for help, and if you think I’m letting another one of those knights near you ever again—“

 Oh. Oh, wow.

 The wave of protective fury that hits Merlin’s chest is—

 Wow.

 He’s still confused. Confused and more than a little scared.

 But as he curls up in Arthur’s arms, held and kept with Camelot’s strongest knights curled around him too, protecting him, shielding him, he thinks he may finally start to feel safe.

#merlin #bbc merlin #merlin bbc #arthur pendragon #merthur #merthur fic #fic #dragonbabbles

[seacottons]

Silent Song of the Sea

Yeosang’s lured and drowned many humans in the sea with his captivating voice. Fortunately, Wooyoung was deaf.

pairings: yeosang x wooyoung, san x reader

wc: 24k+

genre: siren!au, medieval times, royalty!au

warnings: supernatural beings, disabilities, language, blood, angst, gore, fluff, graphic violence, minor character death, domestic abuse, mental abuse, verbal abuse, implications of suicide, emotional trauma, mental health issues, unprotected sex, crazy reader(?), shiny yeosang

there was a problem with the html, so i had to reupload this. : (

You were twelve years of age when news broke out in your town of a boy who washed up on shore, along with a broken and tattered rescue boat. Chowing down on your breakfast in the dining hall amongst the other orphans, you overheard a few of the workers speaking about the young boy who spent days in the hospital, the town wondering where he came from. It was later that afternoon, when you were huddled with the rest of the other children in the yard that the director bought the young boy to introduce him to everyone. You struggled to peek from the taller children to catch a glimpse of the male, but you were shoved back slightly, the boys in front of you sneering, “Watch it, pipsqueak.”

Wooyoung was twelve years of age when he witnessed a young, tiny, frail child squabbling with a pair of boys. Gasps broke out within the group of children as a fist flew, followed by the crying of one of the young children. Wooyoung’s curious eyes never left your form as you were forcibly dragged inside by your ear, your fist smeared with the boy’s blood. You appeared to be shouting and stomping your feet in retaliation as you were dragged into the housing facility.

It was later that week when you were walking down the hall back to the children’s living space, when you noticed a group of four children surrounding the new kid, who huddled against the wall, beads of tears pooling in his eyes. “Why don’t you talk!” the tallest of the bunch growls in frustration, “You’re no fun at all!”

“Maybe he’s just stupid?” another girl quips, flicking her forefinger against Wooyoung’s forehead, sending the four into a pit of laughter and teasing. A wet squelch broke the train of laughter, and Wooyoung’s jaw dropped at the sight of the opened closet, brooms scattered onto the tiled floor, and you thrusting the wet, dripping mop into one of the children’s faces. Chaos ensued; a squeal of protest from one of the girls, loud footsteps, and bickering filled your ears. “(Y/n)! What do you think you’re doing!?” a worker tugged the mop out of your grasp, tugging you up with an arm securely fastened onto your tummy. You twisted in her hold, palms jutting out against her jaw in protest as you struggled to escape her grip.

“They were bullying Wooyoung!” you cried, and the four kids could only cower and deny your claims, their eyes flashing with fear, “Yes, you were! He’s crying! You said he was stupid!”

The worker stilled, and her eyes narrowed at the four children. A sigh escaped her as she settled you down, a stern expression painting her features, “For once, I think I’ll let you go. As for you four, to the director’s office. Now.” 

You laughed smugly at the sight of the four trudging begrudgingly behind the woman, and you gasped in realization when you remembered the young boy. When your head snapped in his direction, he flinched, eyes wary and hands hurriedly reaching up to wipe his tears away. 

“Y’know, you should really learn how to fight back,” you started, “They deserve a broken tooth or two.” He stared back at you, eyes flickering nervously as he fidgeted in place. You frowned, trying again, “Are you scared of them?  I mean, Minjae is ugly— I would be scared of him too.” The boy’s gaze  mirrored that of the gaping fish that stared at you from their tank in the director’s office. 

You quirked a brow, arms crossing in front of your chest, “Okay. You don’t have to fight. I’ll fight for you. Just say my name, and I’ll be there. I’m (y/n).” Wooyoung’s hesitant hands reached up point two fingers at you, and he shook his head while cupping his hands around the shells of his ears. Suddenly, you understood, face leaning uncomfortably close to his as your jaw dropped, “You can’t hear me!?” You understood when his hands made a motion, your brows raising up in curiosity, “Oh, you use sign language? I don’t really know that. I can draw for you, though. Come on, I’ll show you!”

You were permitted to walk around town for a few hours every day before dinner, and the first place you wanted to visit was the library, much to Wooyoung’s confusion, “My friend, San, owns this library! I mean- his mom, but I’m pretty sure they have a sign language book here we can borrow! San taught me how to write and read, y’know. Maybe we can find a book on how to find your memories too! Oh- wait.. I forgot, sorry. You can’t hear me,” You attempted to use hand signals to display your words, but Wooyoung only chuckled at your failed attempt. You swiftly pulled out your tattered sketchbook, and after a few messy, stick figure drawings, he nodded in acknowledgment. You were met with the sight of San helping his mother place a few books in the high shelves of the library, you bellowed out his name loudly, startling both him and his mother. The woman only giggled underneath her breath whilst her son was quick to shush you with a stern glare, “(Y/n)! You’re in a library!” His gaze suddenly drifted the boy behind you, who wore a similar outfit to your own, freezing immediately and grumbling lowly, “Why are you with one of the orphan boys? I thought you said they’re all gross?” His mother scolded him quietly for the choice of his words, and sent her a pout in return, “Stop embarrassing me in front of my friend!”

You quickly explained to both of them Wooyoung’s lack of memories and situation, and and how you insisted on learning sign language to communicate with him, not noticing San’s eyes narrowing in on the nervous lavender haired boy. San’s mother nodded, smiling and reaching over to ruffle your hair. You caught a glimpse of purple and blue marks underneath the sleeve of her shirt as she told you to wait while she searched for the books you needed. A faint speck of purple was also seen on San’s tummy as he reached up to gently push a book back in place.

“We’re not partners in crime anymore if you’re going to replace me,” San grumbled, fingers idly tracing the spines of the books to his right. “He’s not replacing you, dummy,” you cried defensively, tugging Wooyoung by the wrist and startling him, “He’s going to join us. We can even let him in on our secret.”

San’s eyes rounded comically, before they narrowed, finger jutting out in accusation, “You wouldn’t. We agreed it’ll just be us two taking over the world.” “But he probably wants to go on adventures too,” you offered, “Please? We’ll be like the three muskrats!”

“I’m not letting anyone join our pirate club, no,” he crossed his arms, voice firm and head tilting to the side in protest, “And it’s musketeers, not muskrats, you bum.”

San’s mother returned with a stack of books for you, explaining everything you needed to know. She tugged on your cheek, laughing brightly at the sound of your protest as you shyly swatted it away, “It’s very mature and thoughtful of you for doing this, (y/n). You can come here every day to practice with San. He’ll make time to learn with you.”

“Learn? I never agreed to have extra lessons!” It was later that week that the town of Aurora held a coming-of-age ceremony for the young prince on a Friday night. He was a few years older than you, and you’ve caught glimpses of him every so often when you hung out with San in town. 

Wooyoung, San, and you dressed appropriately, with your town’s traditional garbs. Mrs. Choi, bless her soul, took the three of you shopping beforehand, explaining how today was a very important day for the town and the royal family. San appeared miffed at his slicked back hair, and Wooyoung appeared to enjoy to the texture of the garments as his hands wouldn’t stop rubbing the silky, colorful material, fingers tracing the numerous embroidered floral patterns on the cuffs of his sleeves.

Mrs. Choi left the three of you to walk about, only if you promised you wouldn’t get into trouble. With a bag of silver coins, you three tromped between the crowds, visiting different booths to ogle at the treats displayed. The town was illuminated with an array of colorful lights hung from building to building. Signs and images of the young prince were displayed on every wall, pole, and building. As you munched on your roasted corn, guards of the royal family barked at the crowd to make space for the carriages and other matching guards to pass through. San tugged your sleeve and pointed to the golden palanquin held by four, large guards, the maroon velvet curtains tied to the corners, exposing the young boy sitting peacefully inside. He smiled at the crowd, turning left and right to wave as the guards marched in between the two parallel lines of people.

Whilst San was attempting to remember the hand signs to explain to Wooyoung was happening, you squinted, standing up on your tip-toes to have a better look at the prince. You clambered up on a wooden box, smiling in satisfaction at the better view, before peeking down at the two boys, “Why is the prince wearing such an ugly coat? It looks weird.”

“Watch your mouth, kid.” “That coat is the skin of a siren. It is a symbol of honor and bravery, brat.”

San paled at the harsh words, glancing nervously at the glares of the nearby townspeople, before swatting at your calf with a harsh whisper, “Moron, you can’t say things like that about the royals in public! That coat is tradition for the royal family!” Rolling your eyes at his exasperated tone, you offered a hand to Wooyoung, motioning him to stand with you to get a better view of the all the action. San attempted to follow suit, huffing in anger when he found no space for him to stand. Reaching for the pole beside him, he swiftly shimmied himself up, silently thanking the swordsmanship classes he was forced to partake in.

The prince’s eyes examined almost every face in the crowd. He met yours, and despite hating his attire, you couldn’t help but blush at the piercing gaze. You could’ve sworn his eyes widened at the boy beside you, but you didn’t have time to ponder as Wooyoung signed for you that he was hungry. You paused, eyes squinting in thought, before recognition flashed in your mind.

You nodded, pointing to his belly, to which he nodded in agreement. You dragged a reluctant San and a happy Wooyoung through the crowd, unaware of a pair of eyes lingering on your three forms.

Two months later, San began finally warming up to Wooyoung, much to your pleasure. To finally welcome the newest addition to your ‘Pirate Adventure Club’, he presented three twine bracelets, all with one cowrie shell intertwined in the middle,”Pirates give these to their friends, so they’ll never be apart no matter what.” “I don’t remember that in the pirate guidebook,” you mumbled, blinking at the boy.

“I made it up,” he grumbled bashfully, helping Wooyoung tie the twine on his wrist, “Don’t tell Wooyoung I said that, or else he won’t think I’m cool anymore.”

At fifteen years of age, both San and yourself became proficient at sign language, so much so that sometimes you would often find yourself teasing him with foul signs rather than doing so verbally. He would shove you away, red ears and furrowed brows as Wooyoung laughed beside him, “Stop polluting Wooyoung’s head with that nonsense!”

The three of you became infamous in town. The Troublesome Trio.

When San first informed you about the given title, you cackled, asking who in their right mind came up with that ridiculous name. He shrugged as the three of you walked within the town’s square, Wooyoung quietly observing the pigeons huddled near the center fountain, “You're the one who always picks fights, and Wooyoung and I have to always save your ass, so maybe that’s why.”

San insisted on paying a visit to one of the small antique shops in town, promising to find rare trinkets owned by pirates that washed up on Aurora’s shores. The town was still bustling even in the evening, young kids chasing each other around the neighborhood alleys, vendors charming passersby with their pristinely washed produce, mountains of different colored spices, dry fruits and nuts. Other merchants were determined to attract arrays of customers by displaying the colorful, locally caught fish, eel, and crustaceans on beds of ice. Cats sat idle in every corner, their big eyes fixated on the fresh fish.

 Dry herbs hung from many of the tea shops, and vibrant fabrics blew gently with the soft breeze from the textile shops. A young man carried around baskets of fresh bottled milk, whilst another prepared slabs of butter and goat cheese for the market-goers, charming the people past with his smiles and beautiful notes, the seagulls crying overhead joining in the melody.

“Hey, guys. Look! Isn’t that Pipsqueak and Stupid?”

You furrowed your brows, lips pursing in an attempt to bottle your anger. You knew that obnoxious voice anywhere, and it was a surprise that a boy with a disgusting attitude like him found a home with a willing family. You hoped it was the last you would see him three years ago, but there he was, sitting on a barrel, legs spread and a cocky smirk on his face as he pointed to you, along with two others you recognized from the orphanage. You can tell from the way San’s shoulders stiffened that he intact did hear, eyes still glued ahead of him as he led the way to the merchant’s shop. “Hey! Is your boyfriend still too stupid to attend school?” Sometimes, you were grateful that Wooyoung was deaf, because you knew words like that would crush him. Despite lacking the sense of hearing, he picked up on skills much faster than San and yourself combined. San’s mother helped you learn math, and you quickly learned to hate it. Wooyoung, however excelled at such a pace that it left even San’s mother surprised. San also taught him techniques he learned during his swordsmanship classes, and now, not only were the two taller than you, but broader as well.

“I’m talking to you! Don’t ignore me!” A rock pelted against Wooyoung’s neck, startling him. San’s jaw dropped, his eyes widening in shock. Your eyes burned with disbelief at the sight of the smirking boy, who proudly adjusted his school uniform’s tie, silently bragging about how privileged he became after being adopted by one of the wealthier families in town.

Your hands grasped one of the thin wooden sticks of the fruit stalls beside you, the owner barking at you in protest, stuck behind the stand dealing with a few confused customers. San’s hands flew to grasp your elbow, a concerned Wooyoung gazing at you from behind him in confusion, “(Y/n)! Don't! He’s not worth it!” he insisted.

“Let me,” you spat, tugging your arm away and stomping towards the taller male, “I’ll stake him like the squealing pig he is.”

The three boys hunched over in laughter at your empty threat, nudging each other and surrounding you threateningly. Minjae threw his backpack to the side, hands reaching up to crack his knuckles, “I don’t hit kids, but since all you are is an angry demon no one wants, I don’t think anyone will mind me giving you a bruise or two. Maybe I should knock Stupid’s head too. He’ll probably start hearing afterwards, yeah?”

San protested, yelling out your name and sprinting to defend you, but before he was halfway across the cobblestone path, you threw the wooden stake aside, relying on your hands to pulverize the taller male in front of you. He tugged at your hair as you tackled him down, hands tugging at his tie, and aiming a punch at his nose, the sound of gravel crunching beneath your wrestling forms. The two of you rolled repeatedly on the cobblestones, feet kicking and fists flying, “You piece of shit, how dare you say those things about Wooyoung! I’ll rip out your tongue and feed it to the seagulls!”

Vendors and customers paused to watch the squabble, kids pointing and ushering their parents to see the commotion. You shoved Minjae onto one of the glass doors of a shop, the raised threshold clipping his ankle, leading to fall backwards into the glass. He growled, head snapping up to meet the eyes of his two friends, “Stop staring and help me out, cowards!”

Their faces grew pale at the sight behind the cracked glass doors, and after sharing a look, they nodded and hastily retreated. A look of disbelief washed over Minjae’s face, and your snicker only boiled his anger even further. With a growl, he tackled you down harshly onto the floor, your eyes widening at the sudden lunge. You didn’t even care at the taste of blood on your busted lip as you struck him in between the legs, eyes furious as you shoved him off, hands reaching up to wipe at your mouth,“Can’t handle a pipsqueak by yoursel—”

“What’s going on here?” Your eyes flickered to well polished shoes behind Minjae’s figure, traveling up to meet the eyes of the prince, crown shining in display, golden coat and pristine white leather sparkling underneath the golden hours of the evening. His face grew even more handsome since the last you’ve seen him, jaw becoming sharper, and eyes more mature. Behind him stood a taller male, hair as striking and vibrant as the crushed geranium flowers Mrs. Choi uses as rouge, “The Commander won’t be happy to hear about this, will he, Minjae?”

Minjae’s eyes widened in recognition, scrambling up to grab at his fallen backpack, his form tripping as he scurried off in fear. You stared at the gloved hand offered to you, and you gladly accepted it, the older male pulling you up onto your feet, “Ah, aren’t you that trio..”

His eyes trailed from your small stature to San and Wooyoung, his brown eyes lingering on the latter a bit longer. You dusted your attire, snorting at the sight of your panic stricken friends, “Yep. Just getting rid of rats on your streets, Hongjoong,” while not personally knowing the member of the royal family, you found comfort in the fact he wasn’t that much older than you and your friends. Surely, he’s just like other kids beneath the silk, leather, golden garments and dazzling jewelry.

The red-haired bodyguard, who didn’t seem that much older than you and your friends, glowered with piercing eyes at your smaller frame, disbelief clouding his eyes at the insolent behavior. 

San slapped his forehead, exasperation lacing his voice as he shouted in your ear, “He’s royalty! You can’t just call Prince Hongjoong by his name, (y/n)-”

Hongjoong lifted a palm, shaking his head, a gentle smile gracing his features, “That is quite alright. I don’t mind. Mingi here calls me Hongjoong, as well. It makes me feel.. ah, young, perhaps? Right, Mingi?” he swiveled his head slightly to eye the stoic guard.

“You’re not even that old, though,” you began, earning you a glare from both San and the prince’s bodyguard at your informal tone. Wooyoung awkwardly held onto your fallen hat, eyes trained on the prince’s mouth in order to attempt to read his lips.

“Ah, yes. You are correct,” Hongjoong simpered, white hair delicately styled and falling into his eyes as he spoke, “but when you have princely duties, it makes you forget that you are still so young.”

There was a hint of sorrow in his voice that you detected, one so subtle and faint like the salty smell of the ocean encasing your town. The smile he wore didn’t exactly reach his eyes, his lips stretching too wide for it to be out of genuine content. Your bloody lips parted, eyes wide as you spoke, softly this time, “You’re still a kid before you’re a prince. You should live a little and have fun every once in a while.”

He offered you a white handkerchief at the glimpse of blood dribbling down your chin, chuckling at the sight of your stunned and flushed expression at the sweet gesture, “You have a point, but maybe I will attempt something other than fighting.. rats in the street.”

His smile sent your face and neck flushing in embarrassment, and you were quick to wave him goodbye as he was pulled away by a few of his guards. Watching the carriage disappear, you failed to notice San glowering at you beside you as you ogled at the disappearing horses, “(Y/n), you can’t just keep picking fights like that. Must you always seek trouble?”

“He asked for it.”

‘(Y/n) is a bad influence. Don’t get any ideas, please,’ He signed to an amused looking Wooyoung.

‘Don’t worry, I won’t.

Your brows furrowed, watching the two exchange words silently, your arms crossing in annoyance.

‘Assholes.’

“(Y/n)!”

— At seventeen, the three of you came to conclusion just how cruel and dangerous the beings that lurked in the sea were. San had a rough night with his father again, and with his mother’s insistence, he joined you both to the beach to clear his mind of the suffocating negativity that filled his household. 

A large, canvas umbrella shielded the three of you from the blazing sun. Even from here, the sound of the town’s clock tower chiming, signaling noon, can be heard. San’s head rested on your lap, his straw hat covering his face as he dozed off to your fingers gently running through his dark locks. He was exhausted after hours of swimming and playing volleyball with other kids your age. Sand coated the skin between his toes and a small baby seagull occasionally circled around his legs, curiously eyeing the bag of chips you were sharing with Wooyoung.  

The other male sat to your right, attempting to sketch the shore and moss covered rocks that broke the waves’ paths. He absentmindedly sipped on a bottle of juice, brows furrowed in determined concentration, his back littered with specks of sand from being buried up to his neck by San.

Peering up from his half completed sketch, his eyes were drawn onto the tiny boats and hardy people paddle boarding yards away from shore, despite the occasional gusts of wind. The waves crashed loudly into the clusters of rocks, foam spraying high in the air with every roar of water. The blue waters of the ocean were so clear that often times children would run around chasing the languid fish that found themselves swimming past their feet near the shore. Pebbles and other tiny marine life can be spotted on the sandy bed, the webs of sunlight dancing on the surface. 

A sudden flash of a purple fin stopped him in his tracks, his eyes squinting to make out the form. Another turquoise tail fin breeched the surface, but just as quickly dove back into the water. The two paddle boarders paused, glancing curiously at the two heads that rose from the water. 

Wooyoung watched in confusion as the men dropped their paddles, jaws slackening and frames growing stiff, as if in a deep trance. It happened too fast for his mind to register clearly, but one second the men are standing on their boards, and the next they’re both diving in hastily. His eyes rounded, fingers losing their grip on his bottle, the pomegranate juice spilling onto his sketch, startling you. Before you asked, your head snapped to the direction of his gaze, but you wish you hadn’t.

“Is that a siren?” you heard out in the distance.

A blonde haired creature’s mouth suddenly clamped down onto the screaming man’s neck, angular teeth piercing the skin and severing veins and muscle as he threw his head back roughly, red flesh intact in his mouth. Red liquid glugs from the victim’s lips and the severed carotid, pumping red into the ocean. 

The screams were so shrill you swore they could curdle blood.

Claws pierce the man’s eye-sockets rupturing the globes with a sickening pop, the left eye dangling only by the stubborn, red optical nerve, leaving behind a bloody and empty pit. The siren’s unforgiving lashes met the victim’s face, sharp and jagged nails tearing the man’s visage and shredding his jaw.

Moments later, the creature dives into the water, turquoise tail flashing just before its disappearance. The corpse is suddenly tugged down with such intensity that the red seawater swashes roughly with a loud plop, sea foam being the only indication of movement. Feet away, his friend is met with the same fate. 

The tails breached the surface near a sailboat, the people in it suddenly halting their movements while listening to the sirens’ voices. Wooyoung didn’t need to hear the screams of the people swimming nearby. The wave of fear washing over everyone present at the beach was enough indication.

He gaped in horror, his eyes watching as the beach goers pulled frightened children out of the water, others frantically grabbing their belongings and rushing in hoards for safety, clouds of sand left in their wake. Sandpipers and seagulls flew amongst the crazed crowd, disturbed at the sudden chaos around them. 

San suddenly jerked awake at the sound of a loud siren ringing from one of the pop shacks at the beach. He sat up in surprise, hat falling into his lap, and hand clutching his chest in surprise.

“What happened!?”

That night, the King sent guards around town to announce the banishment of swimming and other ocean sports, threatening anyone who broke the law to be executed by enforced drowning. A team was sent to the beach to pick up the torn flesh and limbs of the victims that washed up on shore. It was a horrid sight, the stench of death prominent and wafting through even the smallest crevice of the town. 

The three of you paid a visit to the vigil honoring the five people killed that day, the images of the brutal deaths haunting both Wooyoung and yourself in your sleep. The two of you joined each other on the lower bunk, arms coiled around each other for a source of comfort no one else could provide you with. The once vibrant atmosphere of the bustling town was replaced with an eerily quiet one- one that was stained with an ugly shade of fear and melancholy. — You were eighteen years of age when were moved out from the orphanage to a facility that housed other orphans, agreeing to partake in labor to help provide for both yourself and the establishment. Wooyoung soon joined you, and as much as you wanted for him to be with a family of his own, you were still happy he stuck around with you. He felt like family. 

The two of you landed jobs aiding fishermen catch and deliver the locally caught fish to merchants and markets. You rolled the sleeves of poofy tunic up, fastened the tied cloth around your waist and winced at the sudden gust of wind that blew your wide-brimmed hat off your head in an instant. 

It was a typical day on the fishing trawler. You were miles away from the coast, Wooyoung and yourself aiding the fishermen haul fish into different compartments, picking out the other creatures that were caught along with the school of fish. A storm battered the ship, but not enough for the helmsman to steer the ship back to port, despite the crew’s growing concern. 

Wooyoung grasped your elbow as you slipped onto the deck, waves crashing against the sides of the vessel. You thanked him with a nod of acknowledgment, hand shakily grasping the railing, brown boots sliding with every sway of the boat. He pointed to the hatch, hoping you’ll understand his implications without the use of hand signs. He was clearly fed up with the lack of concern from the fishermen, urging you with his eyes to crawl inside for safety. 

You opened your mouth to word out a reply, when a sudden jerk to the left caused you both to lose your grip. Wooyoung’s hands stabilized himself against the deck, his face scrunched in pain at the impact of his fall, watching in horror as the vessel tilted dangerously, a wave impelling the sides and sweeping you away with it. His hand flew to grasp your foot, only managing to graze the bottom of your boot in the process.

He was quick on his feet to inform the closest person about you falling overboard. His hands desperately clutched the orange lifebuoy, throwing it to where he spotted your head bobbing within the harsh waves. 

You met his gaze, hands reaching to grab the ring, when you felt a clawed hand grasp your ankle. In the time it took you to knit your brows in confusion at the sensation, you suddenly gasped in realization, earning you only a few more milliseconds of air before you were swiftly plunged down into the raging ocean. You were welcomed with the deafening roar of your heartbeat in your ears and the burning sensation in your sinuses. Beams of sunlight occasionally shined within the raging waters before they disappeared behind the dark plumes of clouds.

You hadn’t properly prepared to take a deep breath, your mouth parting open in shock at the sight of a beautiful, black haired man. Your stunned eyes were suddenly drawn to his puckering gills and outstretched smile, showcasing rows of sharp, pointed teeth. The purple fins on his neck and forearms shimmered with every flap and movement. 

He appeared to laugh as he teasingly swam around your frame, circling and eyeing you like prey. The delighted smile on his visage stretched wide, resembling the evil creatures drawn in the folklore books you read as a child. His iridescent, violet tail and fins tickled the skin of your neck, and your lungs began burning with the lack of oxygen, the subtle sounds of waves crashing joining in with the loud drumming of your pulse.

“My, my,” he chuckled, dark hues locked on your panic stricken face, “I didn’t even have to sing to get you to come to me, little human.”

The two of you were suspended in a neutral state of buoyancy, clouds of marine life occasionally passing by. Your blood ran so cold that it felt more like being electrocuted than anything else. You had to get yourself out immediately, before the lack of oxygen kills you or before the siren rips you apart like ribbons.

One second he was eyeing you curiously, and the next you struggled to escape his hold, teeth snapping and threatening to bite your neck open, your frames swaying with the waves’ thrusts, even from below the surface. Your mind had no time to keep up with your body’s involuntary actions, your fingers digging harshly into the gaps of his gills and clawing desperately in an attempt to escape. 

Your movements weren’t as clean and swift as they would’ve been on land, but your frenzied mind paid no thought. He winced at the onslaught of scratches, pulling away to clutch at his neck in pain, giving you the briefest amount of time to swim up, your arms securely wrapping around the ring and shouting up with a desperate cry. Waves rocked your frame, the water sloshing harshly around you, and hope slowly trickled in as you felt the line tug upwards to safety.

 As soon as your legs surfaced the water, the same hand breached past the waves, long nails digging into the skin of your calf, before getting caught in the buckles of your brown boot, slipping it off with ease as the siren fell back into the water. Beady eyes glowered at you as you were hoisted up the ship.

Arms were wrapped around your frame as soon as you landed in a wet, bloody heap on deck, Wooyoung’s concerned face invading your vision. His eyes flew from your leg to your bleeding, bitten hand, and finally your face. From the raindrops pattering his skin you couldn’t tell if he was crying or not. He held you so tightly against his frame, fingers coiling into your wet locks, his chest heaving heavily in panic. Your widened eyes could only stare straight ahead, arms weakly tangling around his form.

Four years later and you were left with lumpy, jagged scars on your left leg and hand. There was no action taken against the fishermen that you worked for, though. You didn’t have the money or means to do anything, so Wooyoung and you decided it was best to change the tasks you were meant to complete. Delivering fish from the ports to the markets instead of helping the fishermen at sea was a much better and safer option.

The two of you fell into the same boring routine. You heard mockeries under people’s breaths regarding the two of you- how nobody wanted to adopt you due to your troublesome behavior, and Wooyoung due to the fact that he was deaf. You wanted to beat the nonsense out of the people who spoke ill of you, but you knew in doing so it would prove their point. Over the years, you have calmed down, though. Only slightly.

Grumbling to yourself, you trudged up the narrow cobblestone path, Wooyoung by your side. The two of you carried nets of freshly caught fish, ready to be displayed at the fish market. The streets were mostly empty, the orange rays of the sun filtering out the darkness as it ever so slowly broke past the horizon, golden beams shining onto the numerous white and seaglass-blue buildings. You passed the formal gardens, your eyes glued to the plumes of vibrant colors showcased behind the copper gates, wondering what it would feel like to have a picnic with your friends there. San will love it, his love for flowers inherited from his mother.

‘I’m going to smell like fish all day,’ You signed to Wooyoung, your posture and facial expression giving away your feelings even beforehand.  

His biceps flexed as he adjusted the bags in his grip, unable to reply back as his hands were full. His sleeveless shirt displayed his toned, tanned arms, leather pants fitting quite nicely on his form. You knew he was teasing you as he took larger and quicker strides, leaving you behind. You waddled your way after him, your protests quite literally falling on deaf ears. 

You traded the fish for a sachet of silver coins, making sure to count the amount before your departure from the seafood market. On your way back to the docks, you stopped to grab a loaf of freshly baked bread and tea, offering the taller male walking with you. Elderly women can be spotted hunching down to tend to their rice fields, wide brimmed hats shielding them from the rising sun.

 Children began walking down the streets, dressed in the typical blue and white school uniform. You occasionally wished that Wooyoung and yourself grew up with those privileges- only worrying about upcoming tests and what meal you’ll devour after coming back from school. Despite the tiring labor, Wooyoung and yourself at least had each other’s company to enjoy, and you were grateful to have him by your side every second.

Overall, the waters were quite safe since that incident that occurred five years ago. The fishermen treated you both very well, always slapping at Wooyoung’s broadened shoulders and biceps playfully. They often teased you about being in a relationship, but quickly learned the sibling dynamic between the two of you. Wooyoung’s nose always scrunched in distaste at the memory.  

It was noon and the two of you finally finished your daily fish delivery trips. You decided to pay San a visit at his family’s library, his nose immediately scrunching up while he greeted you at the front desk. 

‘Would it kill you two to go shower before you visit?‘ he signed in annoyance, fingers then clamping around his mouth and nose.

You attempted to hug him, and he hastily backed away in his seat, a book smacking you in the arm in retaliation, a strangled sound emitting from the back of his throat, “Stop, (y/n)!” 

“But I missed you, Sannie,” you frowned, pulling Wooyoung forward by the elbow, ‘Wooyoung wants a hug too.’

‘You won’t die if I don’t hug you,’ San shook his head, propping the frames on his nose a bit higher, giving you two a pointed look.

‘Yes we will,’ Wooyoung protested, a pout finding itself onto his features, earning him a glare from San as you cackled,’Are you ready for the competition later?’

‘More than ever. Too bad the brat can’t attend,’ Wooyoung snorted at the response, hastily covering his mouth as you gave him a swift, sharp look. It was no surprise that Wooyoung used his hard earned silver coins to enlist in San’s swordsmanship school, much to the other’s delight. Tonight was the end of the season’s competition, but to your dismay, you had errands to complete before the prince’s coronation tomorrow.

San was peeved at the idea of you not attending, but Wooyoung clearly saw the irritation being directed at the fact that you couldn’t attend because of the prince and not due to the errands you were forced to complete. He rolled his eyes whilst gazing at your mouths moving rapidly in a display of ongoing bickering. The two of you were so oblivious to each other, Wooyoung found it gross. Endearing, but gross.

Later that night, Wooyoung returned home to the housing facility, his nose scrunching up in delight as he proudly displayed his second place trophy in the air. Throwing your arms around his neck and shaking his frame excitedly, you laughed as he stumbled back from the sudden attack. 

‘I’m so, so proud of you!’

A smile found itself resting on his features as he tugged you close to return the gesture. 

He was beyond grateful to have someone that felt like family.

Wooyoung rubbed the small amount of rose water in his hands and brushed his fingers through your hair, giving it a gentle tussle. He adjusted the clips holding your hair in place, before eyeing your reflection in the mirror, throwing a thumbs up and proceeding to pinch your cheeks. Swatting his hands away in protest, you turned to examine yourself at a different angle,’Do you think purple suits me?’

‘Of course. Every color suits you.’

‘But do you think I look good in purple? Should I wear the blue one instead?’

‘I’m pretty sure San will love it. Two of his favorite-’

You furiously signed that you did not even bring San’s name into the conversation, and Wooyoung snickered at your flustered reaction. You hated how well he read you- how easily he read every feeling you attempted to bury and conceal. 

And you hated the fact that you had no confidence to confess your feelings in the first place.

The night of Prince Hongjoong’s coronation was much like the night of his coming-of-age celebration, only now Wooyoung and you were older— and being older meant partying harder.

Wooyoung watched you stumble into a pole, snickering and tugging you towards himself to stabilize your tipsy form. San shook his head as he walked back towards you with three sticks of fried pastry, his lips parting to scold you, “You're lightweight! You shouldn’t have drank so much, (y/n).”

Wooyoung has spent a good amount of time with the both of you, and after years of friendship, he often picked up on reading your lips as you two argued. He rubbed your shoulders in silent understanding, knowing fully well you downed that liquor in hopes of gaining confidence to actually look San in the eye and not have to deal with flushed ears and bickering to conceal your feelings. San in traditional garments was your utter weakness.

It had the opposite effect, really. You complained about his voice being too loud, and how the lights were too bright around you— how the smells of the street food were too strong. Wooyoung offered you a bottle of water, forcing you to down it all in one go in order to clear your mind a bit. He gave San a knowing smile as he watched from the sidelines, adam’s apple bobbing nervously at the sight of streaks of water cascading down from the corners of your lips and onto your neck, your clavicles glistening underneath all of the oil lamps illuminating the streets. Once catching the lavender haired male’s smirking gaze, the other silently scrunched his face in embarrassment, swiftly turning away to eye the closest confectionery shop.

Underneath the star-filled sky, the townspeople chatted amongst each other, many of them drunk and attempting to form dance circles in the town square. Many musicians filled the streets, the sweet and joyous melodies dancing in between every corner and alley of Aurora. A few women danced with delicate and sensual sways of their hips to the beats of darbuka drums and oud notes, hungry eyes watching their every move. The scent of tobacco and alcohol filled the air. An hour later, you felt better, mind clearing slightly. 

The smell of fresh pastries and milk custards wafted through the air, as you shared a large piece of cinnamon cake between the other two boys. Wooyoung stood up, informing you that he needed to buy water and possibly use the restroom. 

It was only when you were left alone with San, you suddenly felt like a small and helpless bug without Wooyoung’s presence and emotional support. You can face San on normal days, but when he’s dressed like this, hair slicked back, and the back of his ears and wrists shining with sandalwood oil-based perfume, your confidence crumbled into a mere speck of dust.

“You look pretty,” he started, voice quiet as his kohl lined eyes fixate on the cake between the two of you, “Purple suits you, you know?”

You scrambled to find a coherent reply, mind too frazzled at the sudden bold comment from the man across from you,. You needed to be casual, natural- needed to say something that won’t scare him off, or make you sound too desperate.

“You look hot when you spar.”

His eyes widened in surprise at your confession, jaw dropping in disbelief, cinnamon frosting and cake crumbs coating his cupid’s bow, and you suddenly wished you drank more of that nasty rum earlier.

Half an hour passed as the two of you awkwardly exchanged hints and implications of your feelings, when suddenly your brows furrowed, your frame rising up from your seat at the wooden table, “Okay, now I know for a fact that he’s lost. It’s been too long-”

“But he knows his way through town, (y/n). Besides, this is his favorite bakery— no way he’ll get lost,” San reassured, finger flicking the strand of hair that fell into his gaze. 

“I don’t know,” you sighed, hand running through your hair as you took a few steps away from the table, calling out back to him, “You stay here in case he comes back. I’ll go look for him, okay?”

After a nod of approval, you sauntered off among the sea of crowds searching for a mop of purple hair. You grew tired after half an hour of searching, even returning back to San in hopes that Wooyoung found his way back. When he saw dread fill your eyes at absence of the male, he stood up, cupping your your panic stricken face and telling you to calm down.

“You check the south, and I’ll check north, got it? We’ll meet at the same spot after half an hour,” he squeezed your shoulder and offered a small smile, “He’ll be okay. He’s Warrior Wooyoung after all. I trained him well.”

Fifteen minutes ticked by and you attempted to push down the heavy and negative thoughts invading your mind. This was not like back in the orphanage. Wooyoung was not the little, scared, helpless little boy. He was strong, brave, and—

You walked straight into a firm chest, hands reaching up to stabilize you as you stumbled back on your feet, head snapping up to apologize, “Ah, Pipsqueak. You’ve grown quite nicely since the last time I’ve seen you.”

Your eyes widened at the familiar voice, you hand immediately reaching up to swat at his arms, only for him to pull back defensively. Oh, how you hated the sight of his face and the sound of his voice. The gods must have loved Wooyoung for not granting him the sense of hearing, because you knew Minjae’s voice was disgusting enough to make anyone’s ear’s bleed. 

“Whoa- whoa! So hot-headed, still?” He laughed, eyes tracing every curve of your frame as he took a few steps back,”I see you’ve only psychically changed. But here,” he tapped his temple, broad shoulders on full display as he crossed arms,”You're still the same kid who was all bark and no bite.”

“I punched you, and you cried like a baby in front of the entire orphanage,” you stated matter-of-factly. 

The amusement in his eyes drifted away like the clouds blanketing the bright, full moon. You hated to admit it, but now that he was much, much taller than you, broader than you, and clearly stronger than you, it made you just a tiny bit anxious. You had no doubt that he’ll be able to manhandle you with just one hand, easily taking you down. A sneer met his features, “Ah, the day your idiot of a boyfriend was introduced to us, right? I heard you were also locked in the director’s closet as punishment.”

“Say that again, I dare you,” you spat back, mirroring his own sneer. He shrugged his shoulders, leaning back slightly against the wall beside him, as a snort of amusement escapes his  throat, “Why? Don’t like when I talk about him? Can’t believe Stupid grew up to beat me in second place,” he paused, as if contemplating his next words carefully, “It’ll be the last time, though. I can guarantee you that, love.”

Silence struck between the two of you.

You stared at his cocky smirk, his last words reverberating in your mind. His smile only broadened at the sight of horror and realization washing over your features. Suddenly, he found himself jerked down by the collar of his traditional garb, your hands itching to clobber that smile off his chiseled visage, “What did you do to him! Where is he!?”

He laughed at your attempt to intimidate him, gently prying your fists off of him as he patted the crown of your head in mock affection, “Don’t know. Maybe he’s partying, maybe he’s with San, or maybe..” he straightened his back, lips pursing whilst tapping his temple in thought, “..he’s being eaten alive by the sirens. Your guess, Sweetheart.”

You didn’t even realize you were already tripping on your feet to reach the docks in the southern part of town, Minjae’s amused laughter ringing behind you, your heart hammering in your chest as adrenaline surged through your veins. You pushed past drunkards, guards, adults, and hell- even children without a second glance or care in the world. There was no time to find San, the tears in your eyes flying into the air like tiny pearls as you flung yourself corner after corner between the blue and white buildings in a rush to reach the shore.

You will never forgive yourself if you didn’t find him alive. — Wooyoung was angered at his predicament. He should have known it was a trap, but he had a big heart, deciding to push his suspicions away when a lady asked him for help regarding her puppy at the beach. Well, at least that’s what he assumed when she pulled out a picture of a dog, pointing in the general direction of the harbor.

As soon as his suspicions surfaced, it was too late. She turned around so quickly, he had no time to react when she swung her heavy, straw bag onto his head, stumbling back and shielding his face. He was then ambushed by a group of men, who then proceeded to not only tie his wrists and ankles together, but also shove him in one of the smaller docked boats, working quickly to untie the thick ropes attaching it to the dock, allowing it to drift off yards away into the dark sea. 

Even during his delirious state, he didn’t fail to recognize one face in particular- the same face who glowered at him while he received the second place trophy yesterday night. Even with third place, Minjae still wasn’t satisfied, not when the kid he loved to pick on beat him at his own game, with much less training and practice. His ego was as easy to bruise as a banana.

With no paddle or oar, Wooyoung’s attempts to return back to shore with his bound hands were fruitless. As the boat drifted off even further, he flung his hands to grasp the edge of the jagged rocks, finger scraping against the barnacles and limpets that cracked underneath his steady grip. The blankets of green algae coating the rock causes his fingers to slip and slide, sharp points of the rocks and tiny mussels no help in aiding him whatsoever.

Panic and dread settled in his system, much to his displeasure. San taught him that a clear mind will do wonders when one in is in trouble, however looking at his situation now, it’s almost inevitable what will happen to him. He can barely make out the dock now, the glow of the town still visible from where he grasped onto the rocks for dear life, feet still bound in the boat. It was dark outside, people were busy with the coronation, and he couldn’t hear anything or anyone. 

The waves were strong and yet gentle at this distance, the boat rocking noisily against the large stones. The moon’s reflection in the water rippled, and a mop of blonde hair surfaced, startling Wooyoung suddenly. The being’s lips moved slowly, as if he were chanting calmly, eyes holding a mischievous fire within them. The man’s skin had an iridescent glow to it underneath the moonlight, specks of turquoise lining the sides of his neck and cheekbones. 

“Which human is stupid enough to take a swim at night during a full moon, hm?”

Pectoral fins on his neck flapped gently in the water, gill cavities visible from where Wooyoung stood. The being’s hair was reminiscent of the golden threads of the royal family garbs, and Wooyoung could only gape in sheer shock at the creature’s beauty. When he made no move to submerge himself in the water, the creature circled around the boat, brows furrowing in confusion. His lips moved rapidly now, shaping words Wooyoung had a difficult time deciphering, especially with such dim lighting.

From this distance, Wooyoung made out a large turquoise tail, which glimmered within the moonlight right below the surface of the water, and only then did he realize that the creature was the same one in the books he’s read about in San’s library as a child. However, this time, you weren’t there to fight the imaginary creatures on his behalf, and he was alone, stuck at sea along with said creature.The drawings did little to no justice in capturing the painful beauty of the beasts, though.

The siren’s lips parted, teeth so sharp like the daggers he trained with, anger now evident in his eyes as he swam much too close to Wooyoung’s comfort. “Why are you not abandoning your boat to come to me, you filthy human?” the creature sneered, jagged claws scraping at the edge of Wooyoung’s boat. 

Golden eyes widened as Wooyoung swatted the creature’s hands away in retaliation. The siren reeled back in surprise, shock enveloping his features as the human glowered down at him. Bounded hands or not, Wooyoung will not go down without a fight. If you were here, you would be proud, he thinks.

When the creature attempts to grasp the edge of the boat once more, tilting it down to capsize it, Wooyoung’s hands reach out to scrape long stripes onto the being’s arms, his scaly, slippery flesh cool to the touch. He made no attempt to smirk cockily at the shocked creature as it pulled back with a hiss. It still had the upper hand in this situation. Warily, the golden haired being swayed gently along with the waves, his eyes searching for an answer in the boy’s face. Turning hastily to eye the structure of the rock, Wooyoung contemplated trying to climb onto the high surface for safety despite his restraints. Maybe the morning sailors and fishermen will find him in the early hours of the morning.

“Ah, you’re quite boring,” he drawled in disgust, “I like them when they scream and cry.”

This is definitely a crazy one. Maybe Seonghwa will enjoy tearing him open instead.

Wooyoung startled at the noise that invaded his mind, frantically looking around for the source, only for his eyes to lock onto the back of the being’s head. Did he just hear? That was a voice, right? 

‘Are you talking about me?’

The creature was now far enough for the reflection of the moon to ripple between the two. 

‘Hey! Was that you speaking? How can I hear you?’

Wooyoung was certainly not expecting shock to wash over the being’s features, his lips parting in a silent gasp as he turned his head to gaze back at him over his scaly shoulder, golden orbs widening. Just who was this human?

‘How are you communicating with me telepathically? This is not possible,’ the creature made no move to swim closer, uncertainty in its eyes,’What kind of human are you, boy?’

Wooyoung didn’t know how to respond, the confusion in his eyes mirroring the creature’s,’I don’t know,’ his hands gripped the boulders roughly as a harsh wave rocked the boat. With desperate eyes, he pleaded to the creature,’Please help me reach back to shore.’

Wooyoung didn’t need to hear to know how amused the creature was at his words. Throwing his head back with laughter, golden strands glimmering with every movement,’A siren? Helping a human?’ he swam slowly to the purple haired male, golden orbs narrowing into a threatening glare as he spat his next words harshly,’I don’t help your kind. I find it much more amusing to rip you measly humans open by your throats, watching your life flash before your eyes as you choke on your blood, before you sink to the pits of the ocean where your pathetic wastes of bodies are gnawed on by sea creatures. You should’ve listened to the warnings in your bedtime stori-’

“Wooyoung!” 

The motion of the siren’s head snapping to the side bought Wooyoung’s attention up to that direction, eyes squinting to make out a figure struggling to make it past the onset of waves in a small coracle. Relief washed over him, his eyes widened in recognition, unable to wave his bound hands in fear of losing his grip of the rocks. 

“Oh, thank the heavens you’re—”

Knowing fully well he couldn’t hear you, you couldn’t help but shout in relief at the mere sight of his intact body. It was only when you noticed the head of blonde hair in the water that the oar nearly slipped out of your hands. In a desperate attempt to further the distance between Wooyoung and that damned siren, you were quick to whip your shoes in its direction, aiming for the creature’s head. 

“Get away from him!”

Wooyoung’s eyes widened at your actions, shaking his head frantically to get your attention,’Stop, you idiot!’ His face said it all, but you were too engrossed in yelling profanities at the creature, whose eyes flickered from the floating shoes and back to your heated face. When the siren’s lips curled back, sharp teeth glimmering in the moonlight to make his way to end your life, Wooyoung rushed to stop him, knowing fully well what will conclude if he didn’t,‘Stop! No! Don’t hurt, (y/n)! Please.’

‘One strange human after another. Give me one reason I shouldn’t snap this human roach’s neck this instant,’ the creature hissed underneath his breath, molten gold orbs furiously trained on your approaching figure. Wooyoung’s eyes frantically flickered back and forth from your outraged form and back to the crouching siren, whose face sunk in the water until he was eye level with the surface,’Well?’

‘(Y/n).. (y/n) is my lover?,’ Wooyoung threw in a white lie, wincing at the irrational thoughts he shared with the creature. Whether or not the creature knew he was lying, he hoped that was enough to deter him, even slightly. Golden eyes peered at him in faint curiosity, a scoff escaping the creature’s lips in bubbles, before he dipped himself fully underneath the water’s surface, swimming his way in your direction, ignoring the frantic thoughts of the purple haired male drilling in his mind.

You glared down at the creature underneath the water, whose amused eyes studied your seething form. You aimed the oar, plunging it down with a loud plop of the water. A laugh rang out behind you, and you found yourself suddenly tilting face first into the water. Your frantic swimming came to a halt when the creature circled around you beneath the surface, long turquoise tail curling around your frame in amusement. Beams of moonlight illuminated his iridescent face, which was mere inches away from your own, his lips stretching wide to reveal two rows of sharp, jagged teeth, golden strands dancing and framing his face beautifully. 

You refused to allow this fish to scare you– not like last time. It was that sudden impulse that prompted you to angrily tug at the fins on his neck, before you gripped his long, wavy locks back, fingers roughly digging into the gaps of his gills. 

If you had air, you would’ve laughed at the stupefied expression on his face, but before you made another move, his tail smacked you upside the head, taking you by surprise. He wriggled away from your grasp, swimming away and allowing the darkness of the ocean to engulf his figure. 

Breaking the surface of the ocean, you spotted a panic stricken Wooyoung, whose shoulders sagged in relief at the sight of your smiling face. You ignored the glare he sent you as you swam a few feet to retrieve the floating oar, before making your way over to his boat, struggling to climb in. You clung onto his dry form, hands cupping his face to examine it and his neck, looking for any sign of harm.

He struggled to sign words with his bound hands, his chin jutting in the general direction of the shore, silently asking you to start paddling. Golden hair and eyes broke the surface of the water yards behind the boat, watching you struggle to keep the boat steady and straight. ‘Visit me again, Human. You’ve intrigued me.’ Wooyoung’s head snapped back at the sound, but all he could make out was a ripple of the water. You found yourself hunched down, a jagged stone in hand as you attempted to slice through the hemp twine encasing Wooyoung’s limbs. The two of you walked to the nearby promenade, the low lighting of the lampposts around you not aiding your sight in the slightest. With the adrenaline now fading away, the reality of what just occurred finally began to sink in your frazzled mind. Your hands trembled as you sliced through, tears dropping in pearls onto the pavement. You were so, so close to losing the only person you called family. Was this the feeling of what having a family meant? The impending doom one feels when their loved one is in danger? You hated it. You loved Wooyoung, but you hated this foreign feeling. It was ugly and it tore you down from the inside out, disrupting your breathing pattern and train of thought. Off to the side, the gentle waters rocked the small dinghies and larger day boats nestled on the side of the promenade. The moon’s reflection was stunning against the calmer waters of this side of town. “Where have you been!?” San’s frantic cry snapped your attention from cutting the bonds around Wooyoung’s arms, and up to the confused, ebony haired male who hunched forward, clutching the wall to steady his breathing,”I checked the entire south shore! Minjae said Wooyoung-” “You best believe I’ll have him expelled from your school after the stunt he pulled,” you growled, finally tugging the last of the thick twine from the purple haired boy’s limbs, your hands still trembling with anger, before you hurled the stone against one of the smaller boats, the water rippling as it dropped down, “I’ll— I’ll kill him. I swear I’ll snap his neck in half- as soon as I get my hands on him I-.. I will squeeze his throat until he’s as blue as the ocean..” Wooyoung’s hands fisted around your lithe fingers, his arms pulling you into his chest tightly as you desperately gripped the back of his shirt, too afraid to let him go. San’s expression fell at the sight, his hands reaching to rub the both of your backs. ‘Are you okay?’ San pulled the other into a hug, hand cradling the other’s head tenderly. Wooyoung pulled away to nod, a silent storm forming in his brown hues, which you two failed to see past the anger and relief that washed upon reuniting with your friend. Later on, San happily visited you to inform you of Minjae’s expulsion from the swordsmanship program, the school stripping away all of the past medals he obtained. He was happy to have him gone and have you not behind bars for attempted murder. He refused to let you know where Minjae lives. — Peeling his eyes open, Wooyoung found himself submerged within the dark depths of the ocean. No marine life swam by, and strong beams of sunlight danced beneath the surface of the water. He kicked his legs and arms in an attempt to swim up to the surface. Strangely enough, he hadn’t felt the need for air. A few seconds before he breached the surface, a kind face hovered above the water, the person’s visage distorted with the moving water. A hand plunged down the water hastily, the pads of two fingers grazing his forehead ever so gently, before he found himself being dragged down to the ocean’s dark trenches by a strong force, his arm instinctively flinging up to try and reach the outstretched hand. He felt a scream slip past his lips as a clawed hand pierced through the flesh of his neck, dragging upwards towards his chin, the blood beginning to waft into the water around him. The manic laughter emitted from the creature practically curdled his blood, and his vision was suddenly overtaken by a set of teeth so sharp they resembled daggers. The creature’s jaws snapped so tightly around the junction of his nec— Wooyoung’s frame shot up suddenly. His chest heaved with rapid, heavy breaths, heart practically convulsing in his ribcage. Swallowing thickly, his wide, paranoid eyes scanned his environment, shoulders relaxing subtly as he took in the sight of the messy living space he shared with you. Beams of sunlight flickered through the curtains, birds chirping happily in the early hours of the morning. He heard your faint breathing from the bottom bunk, and he fluttered his eyes shut in relief. Throwing himself back, he gazed up at the chipped, stained ceiling, face and arms glistening with a sheen of sweat. The constant nightmares still will not hinder his decision to meet with the siren. He wanted answers. He needed answers. A month passed since the incident and Prince Hongjoong’s coronation, and you grew increasingly worried about Wooyoung. He appeared to be in his own world when hauling the nets of fish every morning, his eyes trained onto the ocean the entire time. The cries of seagulls could be heard as they dipped and soared overhead near the docked fishing trawlers. Your brows knitted in confusion as his gaze never left the vast expanse of the gentle waters, despite the most clouding the air. Just what was he searching for? You’ll study him a bit more before confronting him- that sounded like a good enough course of action Wooyoung also spent a ridiculous amount of time in the town’s library while he wasn’t training with San. While he loved reading with you and San when he was younger ( San and you took turns wither narrating or animatedly sign the words for him for a better experience in storytelling), he never really went out of his way to read on his own accord. He had shook his head when you asked if anything was bothering him. Even San couldn’t get him to reveal the cause of his sudden curiosity of the mythical sea creatures. You decided not to pry too much, instead focusing on completing more tasks to get an extra heap of silver coins before San’s birthday, silently promising yourself to buy him that golden cutlass sword he set his eyes on months ago. When Wooyoung wasn’t in either the library, or training, he sauntered off without informing anyone. You were worried at the sudden change of behavior, but after speaking with San, you came to realization that Wooyoung was an adult now, and he didn’t need supervision or protection like he once did as a child. You still couldn’t shake that gnawing feeling out of the pit of your stomach. ‘Is everything okay with you?’ you asked one day, book in your lap forgotten as you stared at him from your seat on the lower bunk bed. The smell of salt and sea lingered in your small space from the opened window in the back. He lifted his umber hues for the briefest second to watch you repeat the gestures before nodding with a half-hearted smile, turning back to his book on the small table in the corner of your one-room living quarters. Miffed at his lack of honesty, you crawled out of the space, book tossed aside as you roughly dragged the chair back to plop across from him, eyes searching his face for answers,’Where have you been going off to?’ Quirking a brow at your pushy and intrusive choice of words, he held himself back from rolling his eyes,’It’s nothing important. Don’t worry about it.’ He returned his gaze back to the book, lavender locks falling into his eyes. You swiftly snatched the book away from him, eyes scanning the page quickly before he practically jumps onto you, face contorted into disbelief and anger, his expression clearly asking you if you had lost your mind,’Why are you suddenly so interested in sirens? Why do you disappear for hours on end almost every single day?’ ‘I told you it’s nothing important. Go to sleep,’ anger was clearly evident on his features and his demeanor. He plopped down back into his seat, book concealing half of his face as his eyes flickered to you in frustration. ‘You’re trying to find that siren, aren’t you?’ He stilled, mind reeling at the accusation, before he snapped the heavy book shut with a loud slam, ignoring your existence completely as he made his way over to the ladder to reach his top bunk. You grabbed him by the back of the shirt, turning him around to point a finger in his face, relying on him to read your lips, the anger in your system seemingly unbearable, “Am I right!?” ‘Stop treating me like I’m your son. Goodnight, (y/n).’ He left no room for arguments, eyes void of any warmth at your nosy questions. You watched him crawl into his covers, his back facing you. Scoffing to yourself, you reached down to snuff the oil lamps, the sudden darkness of the room concealing the hurt expression that painted your features. Wooyoung didn’t bother exchanging words with you the next day during your fish deliveries. You glowered at his retreating figure as he just waved a goodbye. You thought it was best to ignore the brat, and instead focus on the errands left on your plate. The tasks you completed were mostly deliveries of goods, and cleaning the docks and beaches of the litter and waste the townspeople left behind. You grimaced as you picked up what appeared to be the remnants of a torn loincloth and a shattered bottle of rum, throwing it in the plastic bag you carried in your gloved hands. Turning swiftly back to the pile you created up the slope of the rocky area of the beach, a flash of purple froze you in your tracks. You blinked, but nothing was there. Furrowing your brows, you decided to investigate, just to make sure the sun hadn’t baked your brain and burned your eyes. Placing the parchment bag down to steady it against a sturdy rock, you padded your way towards the sea cave that the villagers always warned kids not to venture off into. The water reached your ankles as you hesitantly stepped into the quiet cave, beams of sunlight guiding you through the tunnel of rocks. You grimaced at the feeling of algae and barnacle on the wall, feet stepping cautiously onto the wet boulders. You turned a corner, eyes immediately catching sight of the opening on the top of the cave, which filtered strong beams of rays into the shallow, turquoise and blue waters of the cave. Not quite paying close attention to your footing, your ankle caught onto a chunk of seaweed, toes stubbing against a jagged stone. You yelped loudly, your voice echoing in the cave as you crashed into the waist deep water. Before the thought of getting up even crossed your mind, your eyes widened at the sight of the familiar siren, who bristled in front of you, the long, protruding rays on his frame flaring out in anger, claws and jagged teeth ready to rip you apart if it wasn’t the blur of purple that hovered above you with arms spread out in defense. A whistling hiss emitted from the creature as he peered at you from over Wooyoung’s shoulders, face contorted into a glare, “Wooyoung!? You—...” the pain from your fall was now buried underneath the rising anger that bubbled from within you. Pointing an accusing finger at the creature, you glared back, “You! I knew it! You seduced him! You’re trying to kill him, aren’t you?!” “How disgusting that you think I’ll reduce myself to seduce a human being of all things. I would much rather kiss a squid. I want nothing to do with you filthy pests.” You smacked Wooyoung’s calf in confusion, angrily signing at the sight of his embarrassed expression,’What are you doing here with a siren!?’ ‘Why were you following me?’ ‘I wasn’t! I was running an errand when I saw you come here! He seduced you. He sang for you, and you-‘ your hands just could not keep up with your racing thoughts. You opted to spit out your words, mostly for the siren to hear,“I’ll slice him like a trout and sell his flesh in the market- now move, Wooyoung,” you proceeded to step around the taller male, your bare hands clawing at the air as he tugged you back by the waist, the siren staring at you with a dull expression. “Crazy human,” he simpered at the sight of your frustration, “Your boyfriend can’t even hear me sing.” You kicked at the water at the smug expression of the siren, Wooyoung’s jaw dropping in disbelief, @He’s not my boyfriend, you putrid fish! If I find out you’ve hurt him in any way-” With a wave of his tail, you found yourself drenched from the head down. — Crossing your arms in anger, you leaned against the mossy wall of the cave, glaring holes into the siren’s head, as Wooyoung finished explaining everything, demeanor nervous and all as you rung your shirt for the third time to rid your attire of the seawater. Seagulls cawed around the roof of the cave, and small creatures climbed in between the cracks and crevices of the rocks surrounding you. Yeosang was leaning forward, arms crossed against a rock, chin tucked up onto his arms as his tail swished languidly in the water behind him. “Is it true that Wooyoung can speak to you telepathically?” you peered over the boy’s shoulder, quirking a brow at the bored siren, who was busy toying with a cluster of barnacle. He nodded, rolling his eyes as you asked for an explanation as to why that was possible. “Don’t know. Your lovely human friend here has been reading about it all month, and I can’t come up with anything rational either,” he threw himself back, eyes squinting as beams of sunlight flashed onto his face, “He’s been meeting me here to ask questions and learn about our kind. Curious little guy, but naive. It’s great that the runt has you following after him like a little sandpiper, or else I probably would have killed him that night.” He burst into a fit of mock laughter at your panicked expression, leaning back against a rock and crossing his arms over his chest, green, transparent gills dripping with seawater, “Kidding. I’ve never met a deaf human and a ..” he eyed you up and down, tongue gliding against his sharp teeth as he thought of a way to describe you, “Earth roach.” Wooyoung shot you a look as you attempted to grab a seashell to thwart it at the siren, “Why should we even trust you? You’ve killed too many humans. One of you attacked me too!” “You don’t have to trust me,” his tail fins swayed gently in the water as he threw a smirk your way,”Ah, so you’re that human that managed to escape from Seonghwa years ago? You left some ugly damage to his gills that day, y’know. Couldn’t sing for a week. He’ll be happy to know I found you.” “It’s against the law to interact with sirens anyway. I don’t want to see that bastard.” “Well, I guess I should call the King on you two for breaking the law? Or better yet, maybe I’ll tear you apart to see how you look from the inside. Red is my favorite color for a reason.” You rolled your eyes, tugging at Wooyoung’s elbow to get his attention. You urged him to go home with you and leave the siren be, but he wouldn’t budge, sitting down onto one of the dry rocks, hands grabbing at the forgotten book. You argued back and forth, exchanging glares of protest as he told you he’ll be fine. “He is a siren,” you cried, hands grasping his shoulders, face leaning in, “He will kill you!” ‘He would have killed me weeks ago, if he really wanted to,’ he defended, mirroring your own fierce glare. Twenty minutes ticked by, and you eventually gave up attempting to persuade him. Wooyoung was as stubborn as a rock. You decided it was best to just trust him, even if you did think he was insane for interacting with a siren like it was a friend. Like it was human. Like it had compassion and empathy. It was nothing but a blood-thirsty killer. His explanation just had no merit to it whatsoever. A month passed and Wooyoung wasn’t killed, so you assumed all was well. The last thing you expected was to see Wooyoung walk back into your complex, one late night, with disheveled hair and purple marking on his neck. The straw broom in your hands fell onto the floor with a loud clang, as you attempted to near him in suspicion. His hands hastily shot up to conceal the love-bites with the collar of his blouse, but your hands were quick to push them away. You glared into his eyes disapprovingly as his face flushed in embarrassment, “Please tell me it wasn’t him.” Anger suddenly washed his features as he read your lips. He pried your arms off, angrily shoving past you to reach the closet for a change of clothes. You rushed to stand in front him, arms crossed and features cold,’You can’t expect me to be okay with this. He’s a siren. You can’t love a siren. Don’t go see him again, please. You don’t know what you’re getting yourself into.’ ‘I’m not a baby. I can take care of myself,’ his gaze was cold. ‘I didn’t say you were, but I’m scared. What if he hurts you?’ ‘It’s because I’m deaf, isn’t it? You think the world is out to get me, and I’m not capable of handling anything by myself?’ You vehemently disagreed with his thoughts, but he left no more room for argument as he slammed the door to the bathroom shut, rattling the figurines on top of the wooden dresser you shared. The sound of the shower head was audible through the door as you furiously swept the remaining dust bunnies. This went on for about two more months The past two months have also been increasingly difficult for San and his mother at home. Your other friend grew somewhat distant and cold when you came to visit him at home. You didn’t need any explanation about his behavior. Mrs. Choi’s attempts at concealing the blooming blue and purple marks proved fruitless as she reached up to dust bookshelves, her shirt giving way to showcase the marks marring her skin. Her eyes seemed to always shine with a thin layer of tears, and her smile was forced half of the time.

San was aggressive whilst practicing and honing his swordsmanship skills, muscles burning in protest as he slashed at slabs of wood repeatedly, his cheeks rosy underneath the evening sun. Not even your arms tugging him away from the practice field sufficed in calming his raging nerves down, shouting at you to leave if you didn’t want to watch. There was a need to continuously grow stronger- you clearly saw it past his anger and frustration. He wanted, needed, to feel as if he had power over something. With a heavy heart, you nodded in acceptance, sitting off to the side to watch him burn himself out physically. He also partook in extra duels, so many that a limit had to be placed on how much he could take part in. During times like these, you realized being raised as an orphan was nothing compared to living with an abusive father. You only wished to stop feeling so helpless, wishing you could help carry the pain and exhaustion weighing San’s shoulders down.

One day, while the three of you sat together in a nearby cafe, he picked at his baked tart, eyes then darting from you quietly sipping your tea to Wooyoung who stuffed his mouth with a freshly baked croissant. The purple haired male wore a scarf around his neck, the sight of it only angering you slightly. San’s lips parted in hesitation, words dying in his throat as you glanced up at him curiously,”You okay?”

Wooyoung peered over at the ebony haired male, cheeks round with warm pastry and jam, his eyes blinking in confusion,‘Sorry, did you want a piece of my croissant?’

San snorted at the guilt ridden expression on the lavender haired male’s visage, an amused smile raking his features as he shook his head,’No. That’s fine,’ his hands hovered above his drink, lips pressed into a thin line, before he continued,’I realized I never thanked you two.’

‘Thanked us for what?’ 

‘I didn’t grow up having anyone to look up to. I only grew up knowing what I don’t want to be like. None of the children at school understood me, either. They often mocked my mother and I when they visited the library, sometimes smudging ink on their hands to resemble the bruises on her arms. They were evil, and for the longest time, I thought the entire world was as cold as they were. You two changed my entire perceptive of people, though. So, thank you. It’s years too late, but-,’ San’s bashful expression suddenly fell at the sight of the two pairs of glassy eyes,”Ah! What? Don’t even think about crying!”

—

Weeks later, and San had returned to somewhat of a healthier, emotional state of mind, spending most of his time either at the library with his mother, or training and dueling. Late nights walking on the beach also aided his frazzled nerves.

Wooyoung spent most of him time with Yeosang at the cave, and San had questioned you regarding his behavior one day when he paid you a visit, hands heavy with the dinner he helped his mother prepare. You gaped at him, chopsticks in mid-air as you gave him an incredulous look, “What? No, I didn’t reject him- I don’t even like him like that— oh heavens this is Wooyoung we’re talking about, San. He’s like a brother to me. You know that. He’s just..” What sounded reasonable enough for Wooyoung to spend more time away from the only people he considered family? What were you going to say? Picking up on San’s lingering suspicion, you placed your utensil down, sighing and ringing your fingers together as you gazed at him in contemplation, “I..” the words you wanted stuck in your throat. Swallowing thickly, you suddenly found interest in the noodles and fish on your plate, “You know I have feelings for you, and only you. No one will ever change that, San.”

You were aware of how heated his face had become at the confession, brown hues lifting to study your features warily, “Do you really mean that? Am I good enough for you?”

You push past the need to shoot him an incredulous look, instead opting to reach over to clasp his hands in your own, fingers coiling with his,”Of course, I mean it. You’ll always own my heart. It’s always been that way.”

“But I need you to tell me that I’m good enough for you,” he pushed his plate away, appetite gone as he stared stoically at you, his voice so small it sounded like a whisper,“Do you think I’m capable of protecting you? Or.. or even loving you? Am I?”

“You are. You’re more than enough for me,” you stood up to hug his head against your chest, his eyes locked on yours, stunned and almost teary-eyed, “You’ll always be enough.”

One moment you were busy eating dinner, and the next the two of you found yourselves entangled in each other’s embrace, exchanging feverish kisses and desperate, long-awaited touches that once only existed existed in your dreams, too insecure to turn them into reality. You kissed every mark and scar left from the hands of his father, murmuring gentle praises against his marred skin, his muscles rippling underneath your touch. His lips wouldn’t leave your form, biting and sucking at every expanse of flesh he could reach as he rocked into you, hands gripping your hips and waist almost possessively. 

He fell against your bare form in a heap, your conjoined bodies sticky and glistening with a thin sheen of sweat. His face was buried into the crook of your neck as he suckled onto a patch of your bruised skin, hot breath fanning against your already heated flesh as he whispered sweet, muffled promises against the shell of your ear. You felt his release slowly dribble from where your bodies met, your frame squirming at the sensation as you unwrapped your legs from around his waist, spreading them apart to allow him room to settle against your panting figure.

“I can’t believe you actually thought I was into Wooyoung,” you groaned in embarrassment as he littered your chest with tiny love marks, teeth scraping against your skin in the most pleasurable way. He chuckled against your supple flesh, and it’s then you realized you haven’t seen a smile reach his eyes quite like this in all the years you’ve known him.

The next morning, he expected to find a flustered Wooyoung at the sight of San sleeping in his home, but his sheets were still pristine and untouched, just as they were the night before. He questioned you about Wooyoung while you two shared a light breakfast together, beams of sunlight doing wonders to his chiseled visage and bed hair.

“Okay, I guess I’ve been keeping this away from you for too long, and Wooyoung didn’t want me mentioning it—” An inferno set ablaze in San’s eyes, and you internally scolded yourself for the lack of appropriate words. You hastily whispered before he had the opportunity to open his mouth, “He made friends with a siren, and-”

“With a siren!?” His spoon clattered in the bowl of porridge, splashing the table and the mug of tea. Your eyes widened and you slapped a finger to your lips, telling him to lower his voice, “What do you mean be quiet!? He’s with a siren, and you’re okay with that!?”

His hard gaze was trained on you, and an involuntary shiver ran down your spine. You parted your lips to explain, when suddenly, he pushed back his seat, chair scraping the floor as he made his way over to Wooyoung’s closet, throwing on the leather baldric he found and sheathing Wooyoung’s sword, before tugging his boots only to spare you a brief glance. You trailed after San, hands tugging desperately at his arms, but he refused to turn around and listen, “Listen, I’ve tried telling him, but he wouldn’t have it! Trust me, this is going to do more harm than good- He can hear the siren! They communicate telepathically and- and.. there’s no explanation to it but please- I’ve tried persuading him, but he’s too stubborn for his own good.”

“You..,” San paused in his tracks, turning around to give you a hard stare, eyes clouded with conflict. His lips parted, before they pressed into a thin line, shoulders tense with anger, “If you think I’m going to sit back and hope one of my best friends won’t die in the hands of a monster, then you must’ve lost your mind.”

The words stung, but you knew that was his irrational side taking over. A part of you knew you couldn’t blame him for rash behavior he’s grown from being around someone as horrid as his father, “You’re going to show me where he is, before I take this to the King and have that beast slaughtered.”

You were in for a lot of shit, and you didn’t know who to be afraid of most. San, for keeping this information away from him? Wooyoung, who made you promise you wouldn’t speak of this? Yeosang, who wasn’t that quite fond of you? Or King Hongjoong, who followed in the footsteps of his father, abiding by all the laws the older has set for the people.

When San stumbled into the cave, gently prying you off, his eyes burning with rage as he searched for a familiar head of purple, “Wooyoung!”

Flashes of confusion, betrayal, and anger sparked within Wooyoung’s eyes as he noticed the two of you, his eyes sending you a silent question as you noticed the glimmer of Yeosang’s tail underneath the dark waters.

‘You have gone crazy, haven’t you?’

Wooyoung chose to ignore him, pushing past his shoulder with the books he borrowed from the library tucked underneath his arm. If he recognized the baldric fastened on San’s torso, he made no implication of it. A furious hand clamped onto his shoulder, swiveling him back to face the the seething swordsman. San threateningly leaned into Wooyoung’s face, eyes raging with an inferno of anger and hostility. The purple haired male hesitantly bought a hand up to tug at the collar of his tunic, but San’s eyes already took note of the purple marks on the column of the boy’s flesh, “Are you fucking kidding me? You didn’t tell me he was intimate with it too!?”

“San,” you called out in annoyance, “Stop. He’s safe, you see? I told you Yeosang means no ha—”

A sudden flash of silver made you reel back in shock, your eyes widening at the sight of San brandishing his sharpened sword, the tip barely grazing the siren’s nose as the two froze to stare each other down. Wooyoung dropped the book he carried in surprise arms flying out to tug San’s weapon back, his own orbs furiously staring his friend down.

“Yeosang, leave!” You shouted amongst the commotion of your two friends, stepping around them to lightly push at Yeosang’s shoulders deeper into the water, “You’ll get killed! Leave!”

“Don’t underestimate me, little human. You’re going to regret the day you were born.”

Your eyes widened at the sight of his parted lips, swiftly rushing back to the other two, but you couldn’t call San in time to warn him, “Cover your-”

The sword clattered against the small boulders beneath San’s feet, eyes unfocused as the melodic sound of the siren’s call echoed within the walls of the cave, filling his ears. Wooyoung stared at his best friend’s face in shock, eyes flickering down to the sword, before he gazed at Yeosang in realization. He hesitantly watched San turn around in Yeosang’s direction, before he quickly wrapped a hand around the ebony haired male’s waist, tugging him back harshly,’Yeosang! Stop! I won’t let you kill him!’

Yeosang paid no mind to his friend’s protests, amused eyes flickering from both San and yourself, who struggled on maintaining your ears clamped with your hands. He raised his voice, lips quirking as your hands fell limp against your sides, eyes locked on the vast space in front of you. His hands itched at the thought of ripping the two of you apart from the inside out.

‘Yeosang! Stop!’

Yeosang’s voice was clearer than bells, and so devastatingly, hauntingly beautiful in your ears, and you wanted nothing more than to listen to it for years to come. Wooyoung’s panic stricken eyes flew over to your form as you trudged through the waist deep water, eyes unfocused and lips parted. He struggled to maintain a firm grip on San’s figure, who continuously clawed at the arms securing him in place.

Throwing San back against the mossy wall of the cave, Wooyoung madly dashed to tackle Yeosang down into the water, immediately ceasing his singing. The siren hissed in retaliation, nails dragging down the flesh of the hands clamped onto his mouth. He furiously swung his tail against Wooyoung’s ankles, pulling him down into the water. Snapping out of your trance, you were quick on your feet to help San up, hastily gripping the heavy sword away from his grasp. When he demanded you to hand it to him, Wooyoung shoved the both of you in the direction of cave’s entrance, furiously signing to leave immediately.

‘I’ll be fine! Just leave!’

A clawed hand reached out to slash at San, and out of instinct, you shoved yourself in between him and the siren, claws latching onto your ankle. Your immediate response was to pull away, flesh tearing underneath the sharp nails, a hiss leaving your lips as the salt in the ocean doing nothing to ease the pain of your opened wounds.

Wooyoung wrestled the siren down, hands clamped around his mouth, while he shot you two a look over his shoulder, eyes wild and void of any patience. San scoffed, hand wrapping around your waist to hoist you up on your good leg, eyes narrowed furiously,”You should have never stopped me from killing it–” “Shut up, San. If you had listened to me, we wouldn’t have been in—”

You emitted a groan of pain as your wounded leg brushed against the protruding edge of a rocky sides of the cave, hissing underneath your breath as you gripped San’s forearm to ease your mind off the burning sensation. Finally stumbling down onto the pebbled floor of the shore, you paused as San pulled away from you, “You go get help, and I’ll go back and-”

“You are not going back there! He will kill you, San. Get that through your thick head.”

“He nearly killed you, (y/n)! We left Wooyoung with that monster!”

“He’ll be okay, I promise. Wooyoung will be fine,” you groaned at the sight of red running down your ankle and soaking the sand underneath your foot,”Please, just fucking listen to me for once!” He stilled at your raised voice, and your eyes widened suddenly at the change of his demeanor. You quickly grasped his elbows, attempting to look him in the eye, “Oh, San- no. No, I’m sorry. I’m sorry for yelling- I forgot-”

“We should get your leg checked out,” he quipped firmly, avoiding your gaze as he proceeded to push you in the general direction of town, his shoulders and jaw tense with unresolved tension and anger.

— It was midnight, and Wooyoung still hadn’t returned home. Your one room living space felt too vacant without him sleeping on the top bunk bed you shared. Your ankle throbbed beneath the thick bandages, the smell of herbal ointment prominent even underneath the heavy layers of cloth.

You tossed and turned in your sheets for what felt like hours. The exhaustion and worry that clouded your mind prevented you from falling asleep. You quickly sat up, reached to light your oil lamp, before making your way out of your home to wander restlessly in the desolate streets, hoping to find the purple haired male.

You paused once you stepped around the corner of San’s neighborhood. Broken and discarded glass decorated the floor near his feet where he sat against the entryway of his home. The door hung by its hinges, splintered and shattered in some areas. You nearly dropped your lamp as you rushed towards the disheveled male, whose half-buttoned up, bloodied shirt, revealed glimpses of jagged scars left from his duels. Your eyes studied his visage, brows knitting in concern at the familiar, ghostly frown. His eyes spared you the briefest of looks before he dropped his gaze down to his bloody hands. Dried tear streaks and specks of red decorated his ghostly visage. The faint barking of a dog was heard streets away.

“It’s not mine. None of it is mine,” he mumbled, noticing your stunned gaze at the sight of red.

“They fought again?” you asked, already knowing the answer. He nodded silently, arms limp at his sides, “.. and she ran away again?” Another nod, and suddenly he found himself engulfed in your hold, tears streaming down his face as he held you close, face buried against the crown of your head. His resolve shatter quicker than any glass.

“I- .. I was angry, (y/n). I fought with him,” His voice was small and wavering, jumbled thoughts spilling rapidly from his lips,”the medics took him. He called me a bloodthirsty killer– but I’m..was it was defense? That’s not considered killing, right?” His breathing quickened, chest heaving as he struggled to steady his air flow, voice rising an octave as panic laced his tone,” “I’m not a killer, am I (y/n)? I am nothing like him,” his fingers tugged at his untamed hair in frustration, pupils quivering rapidly as he attempted to calm his racing and frantic heart, “I will never be anything like him. I need you to tell me that. Tell me I’m nothing like him!”

You pulled him inside and onto the couch, stepping over the fallen furniture, splintered wood, broken flower vases, and torn, embroidered, floral tapestries that littered the floor. Your eyes caught sight of a fallen, bloodied sword you recognized from San’s practices. Cold dinner filled plates lay broken near the flipped table. You held onto your broken friend throughout the night, consoling him repeatedly and wiping away his tears. You pressed numerous kisses onto his face, your hand running through his locks as he buried his face into the crook of your neck, years of agony apparent in his loud, torturous cries muffled against your skin. The sounds made your skin crawl in the most unpleasant way. You paused only when you noted the change in pattern of his breathing, indicating his deep slumber. Your eyes glanced at the full moon out the window, only praying that both Wooyoung and Mrs. Choi were alright.

—

Wooyoung was curled onto one of the higher rocks of the cave, fast asleep. He refused to return back home, not yet ready or willing to face his friends. Droplets of seawater pelting his face startled him awake, and he sat up in confusion at the sudden sensation. This definitely do not look like the ceiling of his home. His eyes snap down to search for Yeosang, the memories from hours ago vividly etching themselves back into his mind.

His eyes locked on someone else’s- a woman’s- and his eyes could only stare back in shock at the sight of San’s mother of all people in the cave, struggling to pry a raging Yeosang off of her.

‘Yeosang! Stop! Don’t kill her! I know her-’

‘You say that about every rat of a human, don't you?’

Only when Yeosang turned to snap the intruder’s neck in half, he paused at the gleam of her necklace. His gills contracted as he gazed at the intricately carved pendant resting on the older woman’s clavicles, “Where did you get that, filthy human?” he hissed, fins and rays flaring out ferociously, his long and sharp teeth snapping at the rage in his tone,”That necklace is for my people. My clan.”

“A friend gave it to me,” the lady explained, hand protectively clutching the pendant and out of Yeosang’s sight. He glowered menacingly at her, eyes still holding numerous silent questions. His eyes glanced down at her blue and purple marred neck and décolletage, “You.. you resemble him so much. My friend. This used to be our hang out spot years ago. His name was Yeohan. Did you know him?”

Yeosang jerked back suddenly, and from Wooyoung’s spot and the darkness engulfing the cave, he could hardly make out the movements of their lips. He scrambled to climb down the rocks, making his way over, legs frantically splashing in the water.

‘Yeosang? What’s wrong?’

“How do you know my father!? He died-”

“Twenty years ago,” Mrs. Choi finished for him, his eyes growing wide with shock at the woman’s affirmation,”The king killed him for the coming-of-age ritual. He wears his coat to this day. The moment I saw you, I knew you had to have been his offspring. The resemblance is uncanny.”

“You think I don’t know the evil things you’ve done to my people?” The siren spat, “I don’t need you telling me what crimes your kind has committed-”

“I will get it back for you. His coat. I’ll return it to you here by dawn.” Silence enveloped the two as the sea creature stared with a gaping mouth at the human.

His eyes narrowed in suspicion, “What purpose would that serve you? Certainly, not out of kindness?”

She only offered him a sad smile. — You adjusted your trousers one last time, before leaning down to brush the hair out of San’s face. He stirred awake from your touch, eyes tired and puffy, “Is it morning?”

You glanced at the dark window, shrugging slightly before turning back to him, “Sort of. I need to deliver the fish to the merchants. I think.. I think you should stay here until I’m back. We can go check on your mom together? Do you want the keys to my place? Go rest there while I’m away.”

He nodded with a soft sigh, hand cupping the one you placed onto his palm,”I’ll stay here to clean up. Don’t take too long, please.”

“I won’t. Just please rest for me, okay? Maybe Wooyoung will come back to visit you here.”

You pressed a firm kiss against his lips, one he gladly reciprocated even in his sleepy state, “Love you.”

You were the first to discover Mrs. Choi’s body. Nothing, absolutely nothing, could have prepared you for the sight of a corpse, limp and pale and stuck between a cluster of jagged rocks underneath a cliff. The net of fish you hauled onto your back dropped with a loud thud onto the deck of the docked fishing ship, the sailors and other fisherman yelling at you in shock. It was only when you pointed out the body swaying against the rocks with every wave that they abandoned their work to call a nearby officer. 

Dread, heavy and ugly, filled you to the core, the sound of your heartbeat in your ears drowning out the shouting in the background. Panic worked its way out of every pore on your body, your eyes locked on the floating, dark haired woman,  olive green dress swaying gently in the calm waters of the early morning.

It couldn’t be her.

She wasn’t the only woman in town with such a dress. A glimmer of hope twinkled somewhere inside of you.

Not her. Anyone but her. Upon closer inspection as the officers hauled up the body, you nearly collapsed on sight. A shudder claimed your body in realization, your blood running cold at the sight of her frozen, gaping, her lips a dark hue of blue, forehead marred and slightly dented from where she most likely impacted the rocks. You could only stare silently as the medics hauled the body up on a stretcher, placing it in the back of a large wagon, the sound of hooves hitting the rocky pavement indicating its departure.

Just how on earth are you planning on letting San know?

—

Hours later, after arguing continuously with the medics, protesting how you needed to see the body, they ultimately refused, even calling out to guards to lock you out of the medical wing of the building. The town of Aurora was coiled in chaos at the announcement of the corpse found near the docks. The councilmen furiously argued amongst each other as the crowd grew bigger in the town’s square, right beneath the large clock tower. Curious people joined along in confusion at the sudden, early commotion, some propping their windows open to tend to their clothe lines and watch with bewildered eyes.

You stood amongst the crowd, fists clenching repeatedly whilst maintaining your flaring emotions. You pondered whether or not you should stick around or go and inform San, when one of the royal family’s servants ordered the towns councilmen to the town hall for an immediate meeting with the current and former king. You turned to race towards the aforementioned building, only for a hand to grip you in place. Turning, your heart leaped in your throat at the solemn looking San. He made no move forward, and all you could do was silently gape, unsure of how you were going to break the news to him, “Couldn’t sleep. I know. The neighbors told me when I went back to check the library,” he calmly explained over the hordes of bodies shoving and pushing past the two of you. Amongst the rush of civilians, you embraced him with trembling arms, your brows knitting in anger as you buried your face into his brown tunic.

You grasped his hand in hopes of comforting him while the two of you waited amongst the crowd in the town hall for the appearance of the King and his father. He held you close, chin resting against the crown of your head. You can tell he was in shock, his grief yet to be surfaced as he held you silently. His eyes were heavy with years of turmoil and anguish, all underneath the hands of one, grimy man. Knowing him, deep down, he most likely will never find it in him to forgive himself for not chasing after his broken mother last night. It will haunt him for years to come.

King Hongjoong appeared, seated in the middle of the large bench, his father to his right. Other noblemen also sat beside the two rulers. A medical examiner spoke rapidly in hushed whispers to the white haired male, whilst pointing to several parchments of paper. The King’s brows knitted the more the examiner spoke, and he nodded solemnly, a hand reaching up to dismiss the two medical staff. A gloved hand pinched the bridge of his nose, his charcoal hues flickering to the side to glance at his father, whose stoic expression did not twitch in the slightest at the barren news. 

The Commander of the Royal Guards barked at the restless crowd of people gathered into the large room to have respect for the King, and the silence that followed suit was deafening. King Hongjoong cleared his throat, his hair pristine as usual, although there seemed to be a weight of burden and stress taking a toll on his young features. His eyes were lifeless and dark, a stark contrast to when he was much younger. 

“It’s come to our attention that the body of Mrs. Choi has been found near the harbor. Upon investigation, medical examiners have concluded that cause of death was suicide,” Hongjoong spoke clearly, voice booming in the walls of the building.

You felt San’s grip on your hand tighten, his brows furrowed as he attempted to contain his composure. You saw guilt flash within his orbs, so raw and visible it made you look away, at anything besides his face. It didn’t sound right hearing the words come out from the king’s lips. You knew Mrs. Choi as well as you knew San. There’s no way she would have willingly dove to her death. “Isn’t Mr. Choi also in the hospital for multiple stab wounds?” A voice piped from the crowd. Hongjoong frowned at the sudden interruption, his hands reaching up to adjust his cloak, when another voice spoke up.

“Where is their son? I heard from neighbors that he was the one who stabbed his father,” a middle aged man mused loudly to the crowd.

“Is that why Mrs. Choi killed herself?” a lady joined in now,”Or was her son behind her fall too?”

“What if a siren killed her?”

“Nonsense, we haven’t seen one in the past four years.”

“Then who do you think has been cutting all of our fishing nets and destroying our sails?,” a familiar voice rang out through the hall. The tall male stepped closer to the Commander, before turning to the crowd, and you watched with horror in your eyes at the next few words to slip out of the Minjae’s mouth, “I’ve been telling my dad about the purple-haired boy who’s been meeting with sirens in the cave east of town. I saw the siren with my own eyes. I told you Wooyoung was up to no good. He’s probably selling all of our people’s information to those beasts.”

Hongjoong’s lips parted to speak, anger clearly painting his features, before his father stood up suddenly, gaze hard and unwavering at the Commander. It was then you noticed the lack of cloak on his frame,”Interacting with those beasts is a criminal offense punishable by death. Find me that boy. I want him publicly executed in the town’s square. As for the librarian’s son, find him as well. Lock him in the chambers until I decide what to do with him.”

Hongjoong gaped to the side at his father in disbelief, brows knitting in confusion, his kohl rimmed eyes wide. Mingi, who stood behind the white haired King glanced at the male, shoulders tense at growing chaos infiltrating the room, “Let me make the decisions, Father. I am King, after all.”

San reached down to grip onto your hand, and when his hand curled into nothing but air, his eyes snapped down to find your figure gone. 

“You old bastard!” A sickening crunch, a wave of gasps of disbelief, and your shouting sent the townspeople into a mad frenzy.

—

Wooyoung watched the small fish swim by his feet, nibbling at his toes. He smiled tenderly, feet swishing and kicking at the animals playfully. Off to the side, Yeosang held onto his father’s cloak, so tightly and desperately as if it would disappear,’I told you that lady was nice.’

Yeosang reached up to rub at his wet eyes furiously, golden orbs flickering up to meet the umber colored ones of the male,’I take back my criticism. Maybe there are still some good humans out there. Repeat my words in front of Seonghwa, and I will personally claw out your eyeballs.’

‘If you do, how will I get to see your beautiful face?’ Wooyoung simpered, cheeks flushing slightly at the other’s thoughts. He nodded shyly, fingers reaching to grasp the siren’s hand, thumb caressing the iridescent skin,’Just like how there are sirens with good hearts as well,’ the intimate moment was soon interrupted by a frantic sound of splashing, and Yeosang’s face fell immediately upon the sight of a panic stricken San. Immediately reading the emotions haunting San’s features, Wooyoung stood up, face contorting in confusion as San scrambled to explain the gravity of the situation they were in, both verbally to Yeosang and with hand signs for Wooyoung.

‘They’re going to execute (y/n). Death by drowning.’

Wooyoung swore his heart skipped a beat or two, his eyes wide and hands limp by his sides. Yeosang quietly watched from behind him.

‘(Y/n) attacked the King’s father. They’re planning on executing you too for meeting with Yeosang. And they think I was the one who killed my mother, and they’re hunting for me, too.’

Wooyoung reeled back, the bombardment of shocking news too much for him to handle all at once, but San continued, occasionally fumbling with his hands from the sheer amount of stress surging through his system,’Wooyoung, we need to leave. Now. I’m going to bail (y/n) out, and you’ll wait for us at the west part of town. There’s a boat there. We have no time to waste,” he hastily reached forward to pull his friend up, tugging him forcibly over clusters of ocean rocks.

“In exchange, will you promise me to protect my son?”

It took Yeosang a minute or two to process the woman’s words, before he finally nodded in response, a frown settling on his features, “Only if you keep your end of the promise.” “No. You will join him on the boat and escape. Death by enforced drowning you said?”

—

You glared icily through the dark bars separating your form from the snow haired king. He ushered the guard to give the two of you privacy, and a minute of footsteps later, and the two of you were left alone in the dark chambers of the royal palace, mossy wall cold against your battered back, “What do you want?” you spat rudely, the taste of iron prominent against your busted lips, your bloodied teeth bared as you glowered at him, “If you’re here to give me shut about how I shouldn’t have attacked your swine of a—”

“They’re preparing the ship as we speak,” he cut you off, a hint of amusement dancing in his orbs joined by the flickering fire of the wall mounted sconce illuminating his features. He casted your cuffed hands a glance, before gazing at your bleeding ankle, “So, I came as fast as I could. The guards have already left to hunt down your two friends.”

Dread bled into your form, and your blood ran cold at the sudden gravity of his words. You were going to die. God, you were going to die before properly apologizing to Wooyoung, before holding San one last time, before- “I have a few words to share with you- I’m afraid I won’t be able to tell you this soon, so,” you watched him remove the golden coat around his frame, rolling it tightly before placing it down into the cell, “Incase either one of us doesn’t make it.. you know what this is, right?”

“A siren’s coat? Of course, I do. What’s your point?”

A twinge of a smile graced his features at your sharp tone, before his face fell into a solemn expression,”It’s tradition that an heir becomes of age when he or she slays a siren and wears it’s coat as a sign of dignity, bravery, and honor. It’s been the case for many generations before me. My father earned his when he was twenty-three. My mother came from another royal family from Port Hala. They do not hold similar traditions as us, and instead do not meddle or interfere with sirens. When it came for me to sail alone and kill one, at a much younger age than my father was, my mother insisted that our family breaks the tradition. My father, as you can guess, disagreed and left no room for her arguments. She threatened to take me and make a run for it if they forced me into it, and later that night, they found her body not too far from shore. My father informed the public that it was the sirens’ doing, but no one was permitted to see her body. Not even me.”

His eyes drifted to the patch of green on the wall behind you, shaking his head and continuing with a lowered voice, “So, I sailed to uninhabited islands, knowing that there were gentle sirens there, and not like the ones that lurked here amongst humans. I met one, a very young one. He was very adventurous and snuck from his kind to chase his pet octopus and.. he was harmless, unable to hear, thus never really learning how to sing any of the sirens’ songs. He was a very naive, little one. I persuaded him to come on land with me because we were friends, and I ran off with his coat, thinking it would be the last I’ll see him. I never had the courage or heart to kill him, and I never thought he’d wash up into our town, either.”

Whatever air you had left was knocked out straight from your lungs. You knew where this was going. You held his gaze with your widened orbs, bloodied jaw slack from shock.

“I intended to kill him that night he was found, but after the doctors discovered his head injury and lack of memories, other than his name among other things, I chose to spare his life. I was afraid my father and the rest of the town will find out. I was and always will be a coward, even as King of Aurora,” he mused, hands reaching up to adjust his white blouse, “I will be on board the boat taking you to your execution. My bodyguard, Mingi, will join us, along with my father’s right hand man, who was behind Mrs. Choi’s death. She was found stealing my father’s coat, but she managed to slip away before the guards had a chance to retrieve it. My father sent him to do whatever means necessary to punish her for her actions.

I know my father better than anyone else. Without a doubt, I know he was behind her death. (Y/n), please, whatever you do, do not attempt to fight him. Go with the plan. Mingi and I already discussed everything, and he will help you out once you’re dropped from the ship. I don’t plan on allowing my father to return back to town,” his eyes grew dark, the shadows of stress aging his appearance. Your eyes widened at his implications, “And I might not make it out alive. If I don’t, Mingi will give you my coat when he rescues you. I need you to apologize on my behalf if I am unable to. Mingi is a great sailor. His father taught him, so he knows his way around a ship. I want you two to escape to Port Hala as soon as you find Wooyoung, is that understood? Take Choi San with you. Mingi will take you to Yunho and Jongho, two friends of ours who will help you. This town will have your heads if you step foot back here.”

The rush of information was too much for your tired brain to comprehend so quickly. You meekly nodded, cuffed hands reaching to clasp the bars tightly, your eyes never leaving the golden coat he donned on, “Yes, King Hongjoong.” “Hongjoong. Just Hongjoong.”

—

You struggled to maintain the heavy weight of the reinforced cuffs around your wrists, body staggering forward from a boot to your back, your frame crashing into the railing of the large ship. You hissed upon impact, the marks on your ankle bleeding against the bandages. You were roughly tugged by the hair, the bruised face of the former king coming into view as his second in command held you by your disheveled locks, “Helmsman! A bit further and then you can drop the anchor!” The old man boomed, gray tresses tied tightly into a high bun, his charcoal hues burning holes into your head. 

You snuck a glance at Mingi, whose eyes never left your form. His hands gripped the steering wheel harshly, knuckles bone-white. A subtle nod of his head washed a bit of relief over your trembling frame. Hongjoong watched from beside his father, as the man shoved your face into metal railing of the ship, sharp ends of the wood slicing your cheek. A familiar glimmer in the water captured your attention, and your eyes met a pair of golden ones deep under the calm waves of the ocean. Your eyes widened, a gasp threatening to leave your lips.

The ship finally came to a halt, and a pair of shiny, leather boots invaded your vision. You glowered at the king from your position on the deck, cheekbones bruised and lip split. You spat onto his shoes, blood splattering on his ironed, white trousers. Charcoal hues void of any empathy stared down at you, before the former king’s hand reached down to tug you up by the collar of your shirt, his crown sparkling under the bright sun. You shared a look with a tense Hongjoong who remained back, his hands clenching into fists, before you were bought back to reality as the older man slammed your back against the railing, pushing you up, your frame dangerously tilting over the edge, “After my kingdom has sacrificed so much for you stupid orphans, this is how you return the favor?” he growled, the strands of his beard tickling your forehead as he gripped your jaw with his other hand, “You will wish I had just shot you when the sirens rip you apart limb by limb. Your screams of agony will sound like a beautiful melody to my ears.”

Your eyes locked with golden ones, and you couldn’t help but reflect back on the time you confronted him in the cave.

“Why do I kill you treacherous humans?” he laughed at your question, your eyes narrowing as a result. He grasped the moving whelk on the rock, clawed fingers crushing it as his gaze never left your own, “Easy. Your King took my father away from me.”

The gruff man released his hands from your collar to swivel you around, but you hastily threw your arms out to reach his head, your vision unclear with unkempt and bloody strands of your hair. The link on your cuffs latched onto the back of his neck, and you tugged him towards you roughly, hoping gravity will be of assistance. Your frames tipped down and your lips quirked up without you realizing it. The last thing you saw before you plummeted down to the blue waters was Mingi’s and Hongjoong’s shocked faces, the latter’s frame already rushing forward to try and reach you with an extended hand. The three of you were definitely expecting this outcome You dove head first into the ocean, the elderly man beside you only feet away. Your attempts to swim up to the surface proved futile as the weights of the cuffs around your ankles and wrists succumbed to gravity. A purple tail smacked your side, and you came face to face with a familiar visage, the air escaping your lungs in bubbles. Rough claws tugged on the metal chains and cuffs, and after a few attempts, the metal snapped under the pressure. 

“Wrap your arms around my neck. Don’t try anything funny, or this time I will kill you,” the purple-tailed siren growled, turning his head to glance at the other siren who seemed to enjoy circling around the man who seemed to panic at the sight of the being across from him. Golden eyes studied the old man struggling to swim up to the surface.

You desperately gasped for air once breaching the surface of the water, arms loosely wrapped around the back of the other’s neck. He paid you no mind as he carefully watched his friend’s head surface, golden eyes trained on the white haired man yelling up at the others on board to save him. 

Hongjoong’s eyes were void of any empathy as he casually crossed his arms on the railing, leaning forward and blinking in response to his father’s shouts. He spared you a second to gaze at your form, relief melting his stoic features slightly. Beside him, the second in command made an attempt to shoot at the blonde siren silently staring at the former leader, the barrel of his pistol gleaming in the sunlight. 

“Drop it,” the deep voice of the red-head was heard from behind Hongjoong, his own pistol resting against the against the man’s temple. Hongjoong didn’t bat an eyelash as Mingi overpowered the other, threatening to shoot if he didn’t comply.

“Are you crazy!? The beast is going to kill him, and all you’re doing is watching!? You’re a sorry excuse of a king- you! You have never had the power to walk in your father’s foots-” his cries were muffled against the cold, metallic barrel of Mingi’s pistol pressing against the back of his throat.

Yeosang’s gaze met Hongjoong’s, who spared him a glance before returning back to the gasping man, his hands clawing at the ship’s hull with desperate shouts.

“Don’t you recognize me, you bastard?”

The elder’s head turned to peer at the creature with fear-filled eyes, his legs beginning to tire after the long waking minutes of staying afloat.

“A disgusting beast that preys on human flesh,” the other growled, hands stabilizing his form against the ship. His intricately embroidered vest sparkled despite it being wet, dark orbs burning holes into the siren.

Seonghwa’s brows knitted as an undecipherable look washed over Yeosang’s features, his jaw tight, gills rapidly contracting. There was a raging storm within those golden hues Seonghwa hasn’t seen in a very, very long time. Yeosang’s lips twitched convulsively, a crazed look suddenly taking over his visage.

 A humorless, sarcastic laugh escaped his throat, shoulders shaking and brows knitting in confusion as he swam closer to the trembling man, “Take a good look at me! Tell me who I am!” he barked, the rays and fins on his neck flaring in the most menacing of ways, bared teeth gleaming like the ocean’s pearls.

The white haired man drew a breath, his lips parting as he glanced once more at the trembling siren, charcoal hues flashing with recognition suddenly, “You.. you’re the son? You’re his son.”

“The one you tried to kill!,” a howl of laughter left Yeosang’s mouth, as his head dipped back to gaze at a stunned Hongjoong, “Fate is quite hilarious, do you agree? Huh?” Clawed hands struck the ship’s hull, chipping the wood and creating furrows on the surface as Yeosang inched closer, “I was forced to watch my father protect me from you, only for you to kill him in front of my eyes. How brave of you to go after a four year old siren. And now, look at you, you poor, pathetic bastard,” his clawed hand reached forward to grab a fistful of white hair, roughly tugging the man’s head back to meet the gaze of his son, “Not even your son is willing to save you.”

“Shoot him this instant, you bastard! What are you doing staring at me like that!?”

Hongjoong remained as still as a statue, cold gaze unwavering. You swore you saw the corner of his lips twitch. There was a silent acknowledgement of understanding as Yeosang locked gazes with Hongjoong one last time.

“He’ll rather watch as I skin you alive. You don’t deserve the mercy of being under my song’s spell, no..” he shot his arm out, smashing the man’s face against the side of the ship, agonized howls of laughter switching to manic shouting whilst repeating the action, “No, I want you to feel everything. You’re going to feel every inch of your skin being peeled away. A coat for a coat, yes?”

A blob  of saliva flew and splattered against Yeosang’s face, dripping down to the blue waters. 

You jolted as the siren you held onto suddenly gyrated in the other direction, ripping your gaze from the scene as sounds of flesh squelching and tendons tearing came from behind. 

Seonghwa decided it will be best not to stick around to see the outcome, knowing fully well what Yeosang is capable of. He readjusted you onto his back, before commanding you to take a deep breath. An involuntary shiver ran down your spine as the pained cries of the former king were washed out with the thumping of your heartbeat in your ears. 

You were then enveloped in the dark waters of the ocean, the siren rapidly swimming yards away, surfacing for the briefest of moments in order for you to breathe. You had no chance to even ask him where he was taking you, and your mind could only wonder what Hongjoong was feeling at the moment. You were beyond exhausted, both mentally and physically. Your squinted eyes caught glimpses of the clouds of marine life that you hastily rocketed past, arms subconsciously tightening around the dark haired siren.

When the siren breached the surface, you gasped for air, your arms tightly coiled around his neck, causing him to wince and attempt to shrug you off, “Here’s the runt, as promised,” he growled, arms swiftly prying you off and shoving you forward to two other pairs. You stumbled into a tiny dinghy boat, mind too stunned to return the hugs that you were immediately enveloped in. It was the moment when fingers swiped at your cheeks that you realized you were crying, sobs of relief wracking your frame as you wrapped your arms around the other two men, struggling to explain what happened.

Wooyoung’s eyebrows shot up as San pulled you in for a kiss, an incredulous look meeting his features. Seonghwa grimaced in the water, his head turning as he mumbled something about how disgusting humans were. San shared an apologetic look towards the flustered Wooyoung, whose eyes wouldn’t stop flickering between the two of you for an answer.

‘I’ll explain later, promise,’ the ebony haired male signed, before he was forced to meet your gaze.

“We have to go back. I need to see the King,” you stated after the three of you pulled apart. Wooyoung paused whilst speaking with Seonghwa telepathically, eyes flickering to an angered San who grabbed the pair of oars from your hands, “San!”

“Are you crazy!?” He breathed out, “We’re leaving! We want nothing to do with this town any longer, (y/n). Wooyoung and I already made amends with Yeosang. We’re only waiting for him before we escape. I’m not letting you go back there, not after all the trouble we went through to get you here in the first place.” “You don’t understand!” you tried, stammering on your words, unable to conjugate any proper sentence, “Hongjoong helped me! He knows about your mother’s death- her killer! He’s on board,” you tugged San’s shirt desperately, “Hongjoong knows about Wooyoung, too! Before he came to our town! He can explain everything, please. We need to get to him. There’s no one else on board besides them, San.”

Wooyoung’s brows shot up as Seonghwa explained every word that was exchanged, his hues trained on San’s stunned expression.

A sigh left the siren’s lips.

“Yeosang owes me a lot for putting up with this shit,” Seonghwa grumbled, arms already working to push the dinghy back to where he rescued you, your words ringing in his ears like an echo. How did Yeosang manage to find three crazy humans- and what sea god decided to curse Seonghwa with this fate.

Tattered, white and gold, embroidered fabric littered the water around the blonde siren, bloodied, clawed fingers tracing the bejeweled crown in his hands, a solemn expression on his features. A heavy weight seemed to dissipate off the siren’s shoulders as an amused chuckle racked his frame, remembering the horror stricken cries of his father’s murderer.

The sight of a tiny boat in the distance caught the siren’s attention, and his golden hues narrowed in suspicion at the sight. This was not part of their plan at all. As it neared, his eyes bore heavily into Wooyoung for an explanation, flickering to San and then onto you, before he glared at an unamused Seonghwa, most likely exchanging heated words through their minds. You called out to Hongjoong to send down a rope ladder, and the white haired male’s head peeked up hastily at the sound of your voice. If San wasn’t trembling in rage beside you, you would’ve laughed at the expression on the young king’s features.

“Yeosang, are you okay?”

“You better have a reasonable explanation for this,” Yeosang stated, turning his attention to Seonghwa, whose eyes never left the crown in his hands.

A part of you wasn’t surprised at the sight of a bound and cuffed man on the ship’s deck, a bored Mingi towering over him with his dagger unsheathed.

“I had a feeling you’ll return here,” Hongjoong nodded in acknowledgement in your direction, before facing San, his expression sincere as he explained the reasoning behind his mother’s death. Silent tears streamed down his cheeks, darkening the wood beneath his feet as his eyes zeroed in on the gagged soldier feet away.

 Wooyoung’s hand clasped San’s, his heart aching for his friend. Guilt licked the edges of consciousness, regretting not asking her to stay with him and Yeosang back in the cave. If only he had, she would have been alive. Even after explaining to San, the older denying that it was Wooyoung’s fault, he still couldn’t help but feel like her blood was on his hands.

“I give you full permission to do as you wish with him,” Hongjoong squeezed his shoulder, his hand placing a long dagger in San’s palms. Your widened eyes flickered between San and the King. Wooyoung tugged you back, hands gripping your own. His eyes carefully studied San’s frozen expression, fingers twitching against the weapon in his hands, “I’m willing to do it if you don’t want to, of course.”

Mrs. Choi’s killer only shook like a leaf in the wind underneath Mingi’s feet, wild eyes watching the exchange.

San was quick to shake his head, walking past a bleak looking Hongjoong. Steady strides later, and the ebony haired male crouched down eye level towards the trembling soldier, whose eyes glared ferociously at the blank faced Mingi, “You,” he took a deep breath in, tongue darting out to lick a stripe against his chapped lips, “I bet you enjoyed killing an innocent woman, didn’t you?” A flick of silver, and the man winced at the thin, bleeding scrape on his cheek,”Answer me!”

Another flick of the dagger, and the binds gagging the man ripped into two, beads of red escaping the slice on his trembling lips, “King Kim ordered me to! The woman stole his coat! I was only following orders!” 

Hongjoong laughed from feet away, his boots stomping against the deck as he made his way over to the three men, arms crossed over his white blouse, “Mingi, do you think this poor excuse of a soldier hit his head on his way here? Who is the King of Aurora.”

“You, King Hongjoong,” Mingi quipped, a smile threatening his stony expression.

“And who should the soldiers take orders from?”

“You, King Hongjoong. Only you.”

Hongjoong’s eyes dulled as he shoved the tip of his boot into the man’s gaping mouth, pressing down against the back of his throat with hard shoves,”How silly of me. He was only following orders, though. He’s right. One must always follows the orders of a King,” his lips quirked up as he lowered his head to chuckle at the gagging man, his smile borderline manic, “San, as King, I order you to kill him.”

The man’s muffled cries against Hongjoong’s boot had no affect on San, whose hands trembled the longer he stared at him. Hongjoong urged him to go on, kicking the man away with a swift attack to his jaw, his face scrunching up in disgust at the saliva glistening on the leather.

Rays of sunlight gleamed against the edge of the dagger as San raised it high above the fallen’s neck, his hand plunging down despite the man’s strangled cries of protest.

“You’re no better than me, you son of a whore. You take joy in hurting others, don’t you? Will you get off to the fact that you’ll kill me? Will your mommy be proud of you, then?”

The man trembled, his eyes practically rolling to the back of his head in shock as the dagger impaled into the wooden deck, splintering it upon impact. Moments of silence passed, the gentle breeze caressing San’s indifferent visage, dark hues hollow as he gazed down at the crying man. Hongjoong watched the retreating figure of San, before giving the sobbing man a glance over, “You’re pathetic. What did he ever see in you, anyway?” The soldier backed against the railing of the ship, profusely apologizing and bowing to Hongjoong. He turned on his heels, arm lazily coming up to wave back as he watched you console and cup San’s face in concern, “Let the sirens decide his fate.”

He ignored the agonized cries, the clanging of metal, and the loud splash seconds later, his smile gentle as he took your disheveled appearance in, “That was some stunt you pulled earlier. You saved me getting my hands dirty,” he chuckled at your expression, the scene reminiscent of the time he found the three of you in the street in the middle of shopping. 

Mingi could be heard in the background giving an approval to someone down below, and seconds later, gargled screams invaded the comfortable silence. You flashed him a small smile, fingers instinctively reaching up to give him a mock salute, “Still getting rid of rats for you, your majesty.”

An affectionate twinkle danced in his eyes as he shook his head in amusement, a hand reaching to ruffle your wet locks, “Always a loyal soldier to my kingdom, I see,” his charcoal hues flickered to Wooyoung, a sheepish expression taking over his visage, “Now I need your help getting my words through, if you don’t mind.”

You nodded, breathless as you quickly signed Hongjoong’s words to the lavender haired male, shock washing the latter’s features at the King’s words, “I hope you find it in yourself to one day forgive me, although I know I do not deserve as much for everything I have put you through,” his hands reached up to remove the coat he wore, before he presented it to the stunned male, “I believe this belongs to you, Wooyoung.”

Trembled hands slowly gripped the golden coat, his eyes peering over at San and yourself for approval. San nodded, brows knitted anxiously as he hesitantly nodded. Wooyoung tugged it on, glancing down to examine the shiny, golden material. Head snapping up, Wooyoung had only a millisecond to gauge your reaction, before the King’s hands forcefully shoved him over the railing of the tall ship, your gasp merging with San’s yelp of shock.

“What the fuck is wrong with you!?”

Your hands clutched the railing, eyes searching the blue waters for any sign of your friend. Yeosang and Seonghwa peered at you from the other side in confusion when you propped a leg up onto the metal, preparing to dive in, when a laugh echoed in your ear, arms tugging you back, “Calm down! He’ll show up in three, two..”

Your squirming figure halted as you stared down in bewilderment at the purple haired male staring back at you from the gentle sways of the waves. Gold pectoral fins and rays shimmered on his neck, and he looked down to study the matching fins on his forearms, jolting in surprise at the lack of legs. His head snapped to his left, where two other sirens gaped, seeming paler than they were minutes ago.

Yeosang’s eyes snapped to you, his gaze already telling you he’s going to demand answers as soon as he’s in earshot. 

San stood to your side, his eyes not leaving Wooyoung’s frame as he experimentally swam towards Yeosang and Seonghwa, both of whom hesitantly reached out to graze their clawed hands onto his tail, most likely wondering if it was real, “That’s why he was able to hear them..” you whispered softly, hands reaching up to rub at your eyes, before you cried loudly, startling the man beside you as you climbed onto the railing, arms waving madly at the three sirens, “Tell him I said he’s the prettiest siren I’ve ever seen!”

San grumbled underneath his breath, arms wrapping protectively around your waist to prevent you from falling over, “Can you try and not give me another heart attack, you bum.”

You and San returned to the tiny dinghy, your hands immediately reaching forward to touch and examine Wooyoung’s form in awe while San frantically explained everything to the impatient Yeosang. Wooyoung shot you a bashful look as you traced the gold rays and fins on his neck, before you peered closely at his now sharpened canines and iridescent, tan skin. He playfully attempted to bite your finger as you prodded his lip upwards. 

‘You look like a diamond now.’ 

Someone cleared their throat, and the three of you turned to look up at a sheepish looking Hongjoong, who clutched the ship’s rope ladder, his frame facing you. Wooyoung’s head snapped up moments later.

“I know you said you already made plans to escape the town but.. I wouldn’t mind having the best swordsman of Aurora join me and Mingi on this ship,” Two pairs of brows raised in surprise at the suggestion, your eyes snapping to meet San’s instantly. The king turned to you, his half-unbuttoned, white blouse swaying with the gentle breeze, his eyes kind and warm.

“You’re not going back to Aurora?” you asked quietly, feeling San’s fingers coiling with your own.

“No,” he mused, chuckling at the sight of Mingi’s discarded tight, golden, guard coat onto the water below, “Mingi and I made a promise when we were younger, to one day escape and put our past lives behind. I have no future in Aurora, and certainly not you three after everything you’ve pulled. Even with my word, I can’t guarantee your safety from the noblemen in the town, so,” he shrugged nonchalantly, boot tapping the wooden deck, “I am in dire need of a swordsman and a..” he paused, studying you in silence, unable to conjure up a position.

“I’ll get rid of the rats on your ship, King Hongjoong,” you said suddenly, frame rushing forward to lean over the dinghy, face scrunched in all seriousness.

His hand shielded his face as soft chuckles wracked his frame, your shoulders slumping down while even San shot you a somewhat amused look, “Of course. You can be the designated rat killer. We also need to patch up that nasty cut on your ankle.” 

Yeosang grimaced at the words, eyes hesitantly casting you a glance from where he floated.

“Wooyoung will come with us too, right?” You turned to glance at your friend, who clearly understood what was going on with the shocked and anxious expression he wore. Yeosang’s golden eyes snapped to you in an instant, a bitter frown tugging his lips down, “Wooyoung is part of our family. We can’t just leave him behind, siren or not.”

“He belongs in the ocean. He’s a siren,” quipped Yeosang, eyes darkening,”His place is in the water.”

“He’s family,” you argued back, eyes narrowing at the teal-tailed siren,”Whatever you two had going on was nice and all- but he’s still part of our family. We’re not leaving him behind. Siren or not, he’s still Wooyoung.”

“Maybe you should let him decide that.”

“Two good friends of mine in Port Hala are expecting us soon, actually. We’ll just drop by months in advance– they won’t mind, I’m sure,” Hongjoong leaned back against the hemp ladder, head tilting back and allowing the sunshine to envelop his delicate features, lips gracefully parting as he took sight of the sirens,”I think we have room for three more, as well.”

San shared a look of bewilderment with you, before looking back at the white haired male, who straightened up to quirk a brow at you, “Siren got your tongue?” Wooyoung’s eyes met your own before he gazed at Yeosang with a tearful, apologetic gaze. 

Family cannot be replaced.

An airy gasp left your lips as his clawed hands reached to grasp the dinghy, before hauling himself into the boat with San’s help. You rushed to envelop him in a tight hug, face buried against the fins on his neck, San following suit moments later. Yeosang peered silently from the water, a hard look settling on his features, jaw tight and brows knitted.

His eyes flickered to San subconsciously.

“Yes,” he whispered, nodding with a wistful expression across his visage , “I’ll protect your son.”

The women’s sad eyes flickered to Wooyoung and then back to the siren, “Please, protect all three of them. I consider them my children as well.”

“I will. I promise.”

“I’m going wherever Wooyoung is going,” Yeosang quipped defensively, “Seonghwa is coming too.”

“What-” a startled cry left the other’s lips, his bewildered eyes boring holes into Yeosang’s head, “I never agreed to this ridiculous change of plans. A human cannot ever be trusted, Yeosang. You know better than that.”

Conflict flickered in the golden hues, gaze trained onto the black haired siren, until a voice from above caught his attention,” We’ll have rules against touching anyone’s coats if that helps. Anyone who touches or takes your coats will be thrown overboard with no questions asked. I can guarantee that,” Hongjoong simpered, nodding his head confidently. 

“Are you really leaving?” Seonghwa gritted to Yeosang, the latter nodding his head in affirmation, “You stubborn bastard.”

“You finally have the opportunity to travel to all seven seas, and you’re going to throw it away just like that?” Yeosang quirked a brow, a knowing smile suddenly finding itself on his features as Seonghwa gives him an unimpressed look, “Besides, he’s certainly earned my trust after everything that’s happened.”

“Don’t use that against me.”

“You’ve wanted to since you were young. Guess I’ll just go live your dream then,” he shrugged absentmindedly, turning to flash Wooyoung a smile, “I’ll send you a seashell as-”

“Shut up already,” Seonghwa ran a hand through his dark locks, suddenly snapping his attention to the other humans, “If I ever find you trying to steal my coat, I’ll slice you and use your flesh as fish bait.”

San paled at the threat, and Hongjoong barked out a laugh, “You heard him, crew. Now, I suggest you all to come on board before the noblemen send an armada after us for not returning back to town.”

He blinked at the gaping, fearful expressions.

“That’s an order!”

You startled at the sudden volume, hand scrambling up to salute, San peering over at you in utter confusion, not knowing whether he should bow or salute, awkwardly doing both simultaneously.

“Yes, King Hongjoong!”

A streak of gold whizzed over your head, and at the sound of a splash behind you, your head snapped in surprise at the crownless man, a smirk displayed on his sharp features, “That’s Captain Hongjoong to you.”

#ateez scenarios #ateez imagines #ateez reactions #ateez x reader #ateez fic #yeosang imagines #wooyoung imagines #seonghwa imagines #hongjoong imagines #choi san x reader #choi san imagines #yeosang x wooyoung #choi san scenarios #wooyoung scenarios #yeosang scenarios #hongjoong scenarios #mingi imagines #seonghwa scenarios #mingi scenarios

[prodtrouver]

C A N N O T

Last goodbyes now untold, bad memories remain unfold. He stood and watched you burn to crisps, music coming out of your favorite disc. What he wanted to do cannot be done, that is until the time will come. Now, he opened the book, full of hope; you will be with him and elope.

Pairing: Time Traveler-vampire!Lee Heeseung x witch!fem reader

Genre/TW: forbidden love, fluff, angsty, the 17th century era (vampire-witch era), time travelling, mentions of murder, blood, poison, knives, self-harm

Word count: 7,256 words

Tall trees, sounds of the birds' wings flapping, and the strong wind blowing the leaves; it was absolutely perfect. The weather was perfect and so were your feelings.

No negativity that tenses your mind into something you don't want it to be. Your fingers gently stroked the leaves of the apple tree your family grew. The softest smile rest on your glossy lips as you picked out a perfectly red apple.

"Y/n, big sister!" You turn your head around to look at your little brother. His hair blown by the wind, so it looked like a bird's nest- this made you laugh. Although, it is utterly adorable.

"Look at this spinning top mom bought me! Isn't it interesting!?" Your brother shouted at the top of his lungs. He jumped around you for you to pay attention to his new toy. You kneeled a bit and patted his head.

"It's looks nice- why won't you play with it inside? You don't want it getting lost, right?" He gasps at your words and immediately runs inside your home.

You let out a chuckle before you continued to pick all the apples from the tree. Your careful figure tried not to stumble because of the wind. You brush your hair out of your face before you head back inside your home.

You placed the basket on the table before you took a small pouch. You attached it to your dress before you come face to face with your mother. "Heading out so soon again?"

"Yes, mother- I need to go to the village. We are running out of food supplies. All we have are fruits, I'll be back soon, don't worry." You grabbed your cloak.

"Be careful, my child. Don't let anyone suspect you," her last words made you nod. Soon, you left the house and made your trip to the village. Your heart beats in anticipation like usual when you head to the village.

The nervousness and fear of getting caught fills your stomach with pesky flies. Your hand gripped on your cloak tightly. You never intended for someone to find out you are a witch.

Therefore, your family has remained far away from the village. No one would have made dark magic and dark spirits roaming around their homes- that's why they eliminate people who practices witchcraft immediately.

When you made it to the village, you tried to act normal. A soft smile on your face as you bought food for your family. So far, no one has really suspected you as a witch. You were so distracted in buying food; you flinched when you felt a hand on your shoulder.

You turned around; "hello, miss- I apologize for scaring you, but I believe this is yours?" He reached out his hand with a familiar red pouch on top of his palm. Immediately, you checked your bag, and the red pouch is gone!

"Oh- um- thank you. This is awkward, I'm not this clumsy." You take the pouch from him. You smiled sweetly before you continued to walk away.

Your grip on your cloak tightened again. Your feet have never walked away this quick, ever. Other than that, you turn your head around to look at the boy.

His brown hair that looked like chocolate. His glossy and soft lips that glistened. His eyes that sparkled under the sun... He looked gorgeous!

He must be someone wealthy, well- at least, you assumed him to be. His clothes don't scream noble or poor. He looked like an average boy that was blessed with gorgeous visuals.

You turned around and walked away; oblivious to the fact the boy was staring at you. As he was captivated by your beauty and mysterious aura.

You continued to walk through the village like usual. Nothing more could catch your attention as time passed by. Your interest getting less and less until you figured it is time to leave. You have a lot more to do, better not waste time, you thought.

You turn around to head back to the village's entrance. Your basket full of food as you walked pass the shops and booths once more. Everything was alright until you heard a woman's screams and a child's cries.

You turn your head to the side and saw a crowd forming. Excited and angry men and women chanting the same word all over again; burn. 

You look- your feet walking towards the crowd where you could see what is happening. Your eyes widen as you felt your stomach drop. The woman was tied to the wooden pole that stood in charcoal. 

"Burn the witch! Kill her!" The villagers continue to chant. Suddenly, the child's cries turn into laughs. The woman tied to the pole cries and screams for help, for mercy. However, it it known for people to be merciless in this horrible world. 

They set the charcoal on fire; the woman catches on fire. Her screams of agony and pain echoed throughout the village. The cheers and laughs of villagers muffled by the roaring sound of the burning woman. 

You covered your mouth; you stopped yourself from crying; how can people be so cruel?

You were scared, terrified that one day, this could be you or your family. The pain from watching is immaculate. How much more if you're the one on fire?

Suddenly, you flinched when you felt a hand on your shoulder. You slightly jumped whilst your heart skipped a beat and your mind full of visions of death. You faced the person and saw the boy from earlier.

A clear frown appears on his lips when he sees your state. Your pained and scared state hurt him, even though he barely knows you. His thoughts filled with pity because you had to see all of that.

He knows nothing about you, so why does he care so much?

"Let's get out of here-," he dragged you away from the ceremony. His warm hand fit perfectly with yours.

You don't know why, you probably will hate yourself for letting a stranger drag you away, and possibly kill you after. You felt anxious, however; you feel you could trust him. 

You ran out of the village; his hair blown by the wind as you ran. He looked very alluring under the shadows of the tall trees. His eyes actually sparkling because of the glimpses of the sun.

The warmth of his hand hugged your chilly hands. Once you both are far from the village, he stopped running. He turns around and looks at you. A soft and inviting smile on his pink lips.

"I'm sorry for dragging you all the way here. You just looked terrified and I know how aggressive it will be after the burning." He stated and your eyes widened- there's more?

"What will they do after the burning?" A pitied sigh left his mouth.

"They will blow the ashes away, find and kill whoever is left in there family, including the children." He muttered, your heart dropped. What if that happens to you and your family? Is that the reason your mother wanted to live far away from the village?

"That's terrible..." Is all you could say. With your mind full of thoughts and predictions, you cannot say any more words. You cannot feel any other emotions, other than fear.

"Yeah... At least, you won't hear the screams and chants of death here. Where is your home?" He asked as he sat under a tree.

The rays of sun that went through the gaps of the leaves shown upon him. His sparkling eyes stared at you.

You were never one for face features or one to feel confusing feelings, so why are you suddenly feeling this way? Why do you feel so attracted and confused towards this man?

"Far away from here... Oh yeah, I never got your name!" You said, suddenly feeling a little more cheerful. The boy smiled and patted the ground beside him.

Your face showed hesitation, but he was patient. He kept the smile on his lips while you slowly sit beside him.

"My name is Heeseung, I'm a regular human boy from that merciless village." He gives you a small flower he plucked out. You let out a soft chuckle and accepted the flower.

"My name is y/n," you mutter. The wind soon turned into a soft breeze. You and Heeseung spoke softly to each other. Your comfort zone letting him in as you laughed at his jokes.

Heeseung smiled at your beauty and grace. His eyes landed on you as soon as you walked pass him. Luckily, the gods were on his side and made him approach you.

Soon, time passed quickly, and you realized you have to head home. You get on your feet, your basket on your arm.

"I need to go home-,"

"Do you want me to accompany you home?" Heeseung stood up as well. You shook your head softly, although you feel safe around him, you don't trust him very much yet.

"I can go home myself, I know the way back very well. I will see you soon, Heeseung," you smiled widely. You bid your goodbye and walked away from him.

Heeseung bid him farewell as well, his eyes glued on your figure. Your figure getting farther and further away from him until you disappeared.

He pressed his palm against his chest, feeling more than he should have. He hoped to see you again. 

Your return to the village was a week after your last visit. You hesitated to return after what you've seen last time.

However, the village looked a bit more peaceful. No fights, no chants- everything looked fine. There are fewer people, maybe because the others are very busy in their homes.

Your basket slowly getting filled with food whilst you walked down the path. Children were running around, their toys in their grasps.

A soft smile appears on your face. It's not every day to see children playing, villagers working, and food selling out quickly you live in the woods after all; away from the chaos, this village masks.

"May I get 2 loaves of bread?" You reached out the coins to the baker. He flashed a smile before he gave you the 2 freshly baked loaves. "Thank you," then you left.

After your experience that time, you aren't so sure if you want to stay longer in this village. That's why you're in a hurry whilst acting normal. Although, you want to see him... To see Heeseung again.

"Hey, you," you turn around to see a stranger pointing at you. Your heart races quickly, your mind, once again, filled with visions of your death. He suddenly grabbed your wrist, and you tried to pull it back immediately.

"You need to come with me or else, you will end up like those nasty witches!" The man shouted, his arm raised as if he was going to hit you. You shut your eyes, terrified of what the man will do.

However, you didn't feel pain. You heard a low grunt instead, followed by a heavy thud. You felt your basket taken away from you and you opened your eyes.

Heeseung stood protectively in front of you. Instantly, he turned around and held your wrist tightly before he dragged you out of the village.

He never looked back while you guys ran to the woods. The voices in the village were disappearing, and that made Heeseung stopped. He let go of your wrist,

"Are you okay? Are you hurt? Did that man hurt you?" He asked and moved closer to you. His eyes scanning places where there could be injuries from that man. You smiled and held his hand. His concerned and panicked self was silenced.

"I'm okay, Heeseung... Thank you for helping me," you let out a chuckle. You swore you saw his cheeks turn pink before he looked away.

You tilted your head and asked; "are you blushing?" His eyes widened when he turned his head to face you. He immediately shook his head, and you laughed. You quickly caressed his hair,

"You're cute... By the way, can I have my basket back?" You asked and pointed at your basket. He let out a soft gasp before quickly returning your basket. You thanked him and turned around.

Your eyes on his flustered figure whilst he stared at a bird family. The parents feeding their young one. Suddenly, a thought popped into your head, so you ask him.

"How did you find me, though?"

"A-ah, I just saw you in the village when that man suddenly grabbed you. Luckily, I was nearby and immediately ran to you. I even left my friend to help you!" He laughed when he remembered the shocked and concerned expression of his friend.

You laughed along with him before you remembered to head home again. You suddenly stopped laughing, another thought popped into your head.

"Heeseung, can I trust you?" You softly said and Heeseung instantly nodded his head. His silence whilst he stared at you almost spilled the truth from your lips. You walked closer to him, but he didn't step backward.

"What if I tell you I'm a witch?" You asked, scared. You don't know if you're making the right decision, you don't know if this will lead to something bad or good. However, you feel you could really trust Heeseung.

You felt your world freeze; you felt like time stopped when he smiled. He let out a chuckle before his warm hand patted your head. "I don't care about that, y/n." Your eyes widen at his words.

He sits on the leafy ground, his sparkling eyes stared at you. His smile has disappeared and his gaze gave you butterfly... A lot of butterflies.

"I don't care about witches or anything- honestly, I think they're really cool. I'm sure not all witches are bad, I'm sure a lot of them are very nice too. If you are a witch, I wouldn't give a damn. You're you and you're gentle... Well, from what I've observed so far, but yeah! I don't care," he smiled widely.

Immediately, you felt your heart skip a beat once again. A smile unconsciously makes its way to your lips as you sat beside him. He chuckled and patted your head once more. "You're you, you have a delicate heart. That's what all it matters,"

You swore you have never met someone as sweet as Heeseung. Your heart always in a rush whenever you talk to him. This may only be your 2nd meeting but you feel you've known him for a long time.

"Heeseung, if I come to this village every other day, will you wait for me?" You asked, instantly he nodded. He grabbed your palm and clasped it.

"I'll even wait for you every day," you laughed and softly smacked his shoulder. He laughed along with you. You sat beside him and rest your head on his shoulder. You both admired the clouds, even though they are covered by the tall trees.

"Are you really a witch?" Heeseung asked, and you nodded. You faced him and ruffled his hair. It was soft. It reminds you of the hair of your younger brother.

"Do you want me to prove it?" He nod his head and you took something out of your pocket. It was small charms, very hidden, but it was beautiful.

The charms were made of purple wood, and they were carved as sun and moon. "These are charms that bounds 2 people together, hence the reason it's the sun and moon." You held his other hand.

You freeze for a minute. Should you give it to him? After all, your mother stated you must only give this to your loved one. You sighed and placed it on his warm palm before you wrapped his fingers around it.

"When you show this to the sunlight or the moonlight, it's shadow will be the same shape as the charm. If the shadows of these two charms meet or overlap, they will be together forever." You muttered and Heeseung stared at the sun charm on his palm.

He reached it out to the sky and both of your pair of eyes widened when you saw a shadow. You did the same thing, and you became more shocked. The shadows overlapped...

"Looks like we're bound to be together forever," Heeseung laughed and you softly smack his shoulders.

"I can't believe this... Wow... The shadows didn't overlap when my mom and I tried it! This is magic! Wow!" You were impressed. The charms work... Just with someone who is perfect for you. Heeseung laughed at your cheekiness and ruffled your hair once more, you pout.

"We're bound to be together?" Heeseung whispered, and you nodded. You both stared at each other, both of your sparkling eyes staring at each other. He smiles as you lean closer to his lips. He didn't move, he shut his eyes and let you take control.

Soon, his lips felt warm the next second. Your small hands on top of his large ones. You both melt into the kiss, the warmth embracing both of you whilst you enjoy each other's presence. You break the kiss and immediately hid yourself on his chest.

"I'm sorry... I don't know what came over me..." You were flustered- it was just your 2nd meeting and you did that! How would he feel? Did he feel weird? Creepy? Ah, you were ready to shout at yourself when you get home.

"Why are you apologizing?" Heeseung caress your hair while you continued to hide in his chest. He laughed when you incoherently mumbled.

"I don't know! Maybe, it's because this is just our 2nd meeting and I already kissed you and that I feel like we aren't supposed to be doing this-," Heeseung kissed you once more. Your hand on his chest while his are on your waist. He pulled you close to him as you value the time you both have together.

Birds chirping, the wind has gotten softer- you feel special. You feel loved and protected with him. Despite this being your 2nd interaction, you feel like everything is fitting in the puzzle piece.

"Don't apologize- I really like how your lips feel on mine," Heeseung whispered. He chuckled when he saw your tinted pink cheeks before you looked away. He pulled you closer to him.

"I need to head home, Heeseung," you whispered, saddened since you didn't want to leave yet. He let out a sigh but didn't move.

"Let's stay like this for a minute before you head home," Heeseung pecked your forehead, resulting in a chuckle coming out of your mouth. You wrapped your arms around him whilst you melt into each other's arms.

Heeseung raised his charm in front of the moonlight. His eyes stayed glued on the ground, full of hopes you would raise your moon charm too. You have been doing this for weeks, letting the other acknowledge your presences, even when you aren't with each other. Heeseung loves doing this with you.

You let out a chuckle when you saw Heeseung's charm's shadow on your wooden floor. Instantly, you grabbed and flashed yours. The shadows overlapping immediately.

You grab your cloak from your hanging rank and quietly exit the house. A paper and quill pen in your grasps. You sat on the leafy ground; the pen met the thin paper as you wrote a letter for him. Although, it is very late in the night; you hope a lovely letter can ease his thoughts.

You let your owl deliver the letter to Heeseung. A smile danced on your lips whilst you watch the owl fly away to wherever Heeseung is. You were staring at the full moon that was shining brightly for the night. You turn around when you heard the door open.

"Mom," you become nervous instantly. She stared at you with the soft features on her face. Her hand on the wooden door frame, her dark chocolate brown eyes bore into yours. "Sending a letter to a boy? Is it a human boy?" She asked seriously.

You looked down and bopped your head. You shut your eyes, ready for her angry nagging about how unsafe you are being. It's very well known that humans despise witches.

If they were to find out, your entire family will die, including yourself. However, Heeseung kept your secret safe. He's willing to protect you and your family, even though he hasn't met them yet.

"Y/n, you know why we keep ourselves a secret from those terrible beings! They are ought to kill us, to eliminate us. And you're here sending letters to a human boy!?" She fumes, you shook your head, which silenced her. You stared at her with the same look on her face.

"Heeseung is not like those evil humans! He loves me and I love him. I know humans are terrible and I fear them too but Heeseung... he's different, he's willing to keep our secret." You spoke seriously and bravely. Your mother sighed in disbelief. Do not want to believe that you re standing up for a human.

Your mother rubbed her bridge as she let out another sigh, heavier than the first one. You both stared at each other, not one bothered to look away. Her angry eyes bore into your brave ones. Not wanting to fight with her daughter anymore, she looks away. "Bring that boy here and no one else. Just that boy," she heads back inside.

You sigh in relief, your heart ready to jump out of your chest. You were sure she's hesitant, as if she'll stop you from talking with Heeseung. You turned around and saw your owl come back with a different letter. A hurt smile appears on your lips as you reached out your arm for your owl to sit on.

"Good job, Niki... Thank your for delivering this to me. You may go back home," you murmured. You watched your owl fly back to his tree before you head back inside. You opened the letter and read it.

Hello, lovely y/n.

I've received your letter and you don't know how happy I am. I'm delighted that you even write letters for me. I love how you described your home, in hopes to visit soon and meet your family. I have a few presents made for you and I really hope you will like them. May I know when you'll visit the village again? I'm excited to give you these gifts. Other than that, I hope you have a good sleep and sweet dreams.

You smiled and folded the letter. You put it in your red box, a box where you keep all your valuable papers and writings. 

The next day, after your slumber, you quickly get dressed.

Your littler brother sat on the wooden floor, books surrounded him whilst he writes on his book. Your mother comes out of the kitchen,

"Don't forget what I told you," she said before she took the empty and dirty plates from the table. You felt uncertain, but it must be done. You don't want her to see Heeseung as an evil person...

"You're going to the village again, sister?" Your brother turned to you, you bopped your head as an answer. He ran up to you and showed you a drawing.

"I don't know who you will love, sister, but I made a drawing! This you, mommy, and the boy who you will love! I know we'll be a happy family after father died!" He smiled, and you carefully took the paper from his grip.

You smiled widely and embraced him. "I love it... big sister will be back with a guest, so why won't you draw something lovely for him?" You asked, and he smiled widely. He didn't waste any time to run to his study place and begin drawing.

"I'll be back shortly," you left the house. You closed the door and head to the village.

Amid your trip, you admire your surroundings. Birds flying above and below the trees, the leaves being blown, the flowers in perfect bloom of spring... Everything is lovely.

You were excited to meet Heeseung, but you also felt nervous. First reasons, take him to your home. Second, you're afraid Heeseung would be nervous because it's so sudden. Third, he's meeting your mother- the witch who raised you!

You clasped on your cloak as you saw the village nearing. You looked around by the entrance and saw Heeseung, already there. He was playing with a puppy that has been following him.

You remember he talks about that puppy a lot. You let out a soft chuckle when Heeseung picked up the puppy and start peppering it with kisses. You come out from your spot and slowly walk towards him.

"Why don't you ever kiss me like that?" You said, he immediately raised his head, embarrassed. He put the puppy down whilst it ran away from him.

"Well, if only you come over more often than sure," he ruffles your hair. Suddenly, his expressions brightened; "follow me! I'll give you your presents!"

He takes your hands in his, then drags you to his home. You've been in his home couple of times; its simplicity really pleased you.

"I got this music disc for you! It's like one of a kind and very rare! I know you love the music this village plays and I think you would love this too!" He plays the music disc to your pleasure and you gasp. The sound of the violin and organ in perfect harmony.

"Wow... How did you even get that?" You asked him while he sat beside you. He placed a soft peck on your cheek.

"If magic is love, then it probably is love," he said. You let out laugh but that didn't last long when you remembered what your mother said.

"Heeseung, do you think you could accompany me home?" You asked and his eyes widen. The shocked expression on his face puzzled you.

"Are you sure? Wouldn't that mean I would meet your brother and mother too?" You bopped your head. Heeseung bit his lip as he jumped on his bed. He hummed for a few seconds before he faced you with a smile.

"Of course, I would actually be delighted to meet them." Heeseung kissed you on your lips. You both burst into giggles when you jumped on him on his bed.

And so you both went to your home together. Both extremely nervous, but you swore you were close to death.

Heeseung even had to assure you everything will be alright. Once you both nearest your home, you saw your mother outside, hanging the clothes.

"Mom!" You ran to her, and she immediately turned to face you. Her eyes, however, landed on Heeseung who stiffened at the sharp glare.

"Mom, this is Heeseung-,"

"The human boy... What are your plans, you human?" Your mother sharply said, and you panic. You placed your arms around her to stop her.

"Ma'am, I plan on loving your daughter until our eternal lives meet." Heeseung courageously answers, which surprised you.

"Do you plan on exposing us to your kind? You know those humans hate us and they're probably burning a witch as we speak right now!" Your mother bursted, but Heeseung remained unfazed.

Heeseung stepped forward and placed a hand on your shoulder. You turned around to face him, but his eyes were glued to your mother.

"Ma'am, no- I do not want to do that nor have plans to do that. I love y/n with all my heart despite not knowing long! I do not want the girl I want to spend my life with to die," Heeseung spat.

You and your mother were frozen in your places. Your eyes bore into Heeseung's chocolate eyes. His determined expression and his large hand stayed on your shoulder as if he's afraid to let go.

Your mother let out a sigh which made you look at her.

"Protect my daughter, Heeseung. My children are the only family I have after the burning of my husband. I don't want them to go through the same," Heeseung smiled and intertwined his hand with yours.

"I promise, ma'am-,"

"Call me mom, I don't trust you fully, so I need to observe you more. However, if my daughter loves you a lot, then you are welcome to join us for dinner." You smiled widely and embraced her instantly. Thanking words come out of your mouth whilst your mom laughs.

"Come inside."

Heeseung jumped when his bedroom door was kicked open. He turned around to face his fuming father.

"I cannot believe you would be a traitor, Heeseung... Why would you be with a witch!?" His father shouted, his eyes widened. How did he find out?

"You bring that witch in this village and you will watch her burn!" His father kicked his chair to the side. Heeseung kept a serious expression on his face.

"Who says I'm with a witch?" He bravely said. However, all his feelings and emotions went down in the drain when his father showed him the charm. The sun charm you gave him.

"Does this not explain? This is a witch's charm, Heeseung! Why would you have a witch's charm with you!? Are you studying witchcraft now!?" His father throws the charm to the side.

Heeseung felt his world crumble when the charm split in two. That was when Heeseung was finally getting annoyed. His angry eyes bore into his father's angry ones.

"Get out of my room," Heeseung said.

"What?" His father muttered.

"I SAID GET OUT!" Heeseung raged. Suddenly, the windows slammed open, shocking both of them.

"A WITCH! I FOUND A WITCH!" He heard the villagers shout in excitement. Heeseung's eyes widen and immediately, he rushed out of his home.

There he sees you being held by a man. A terrified expression on your face as the man dragged you to where they keep the other witches. Heeseung immediately ran to you.

"Let go of her," Heeseung kicked the man and took your hand into his.

"Heeseung! Stop this instant!" His father ran up to him. The other villagers surround them both. Heeseung's arm protectively around your waist.

"Let go of that witch or we kill you both," the villagers raged in anger. You looked into Heeseung's eyes; his chocolate brown eyes once full of love are now full of anger.

"I will not let go of her! Kill me! Do not kill her!" Heeseung bursted, and you felt your heart break. Tears fall from your eyes whilst you think about your nearing death.

"Heeseung, play my favorite music later, okay?" You muttered, loud and clear for him to hear, he freezes.

"What? Why?" He looks at you; his angry eyes now full of concern and sadness. His heart shattering into pieces when he watches the tears fall from your gorgeous eyes.

"I want to hear the music when I die. I want it to be the first thing I hear when I enter my eternal life. You'll do that for me, right?" You caressed his cheek, his eyes turning glossy.

"No! I will not let you die in the hands of these terrible people!" Heeseung glared at the surrounding villagers.

"Heeseung! I love you, you know that! I cannot escape what is called a witch's punishment. I cannot escape this, Heeseung! I feel like my date has been written already and a witch and a human cannot be together." You cry even more in his arms. You stood on your toes and kissed him.

"I love you," you whispered before you removed his protective arms around you.

"I will go with you, but you must not kill Heeseung. I spelled him to fall in love with me. Once I die, the spell will be broken." You like which shocked Heeseung. He was about to protest until he felt a hand on his wrist.

He looked down to see your brother, your mother, behind him. Both have a sad look on their faces as they have to pretend they are not related with you.

The sad eyes of your brother while he tries not to cry pained Heeseung. This is your family, his family as well.

"I must be killed today at midnight for the spell to be broken," you stayed strong.

"Very well then- get her," a villager said. Immediately, a man grabbed you and drag you to the prison. You turned around and flashed a smile.

Heeseung falls to the ground; tears falling from his eyes while your brother ran back to your mother. Both try not to cry, knowing another family member will be burned to death. Later that day, Heeseung entered his room.

His father stayed with the villagers for your burning. Your mother and brother in his room as well. Both in each other's arm as they grieved for your upcoming death.

He could hear the villagers' chant to burn you. He looks out of his window and sees you being tied to the pole. At that moment, he plays your music disc.

"Let the witch burn!", "Burn her!", "Eliminate all witches!" echoed in the village. Soon, he could hear the soft sounds of fire.

He turns around to face you. Your eyes looked at his home, which wasn't far.

"I love you," you mouthed before the fire eats your body. Heeseung bursts into tears, his loud sobs echoed in his room.

The dark sky and bright light of the fire met in the air. Your ashes blown by the wind until nothing was left.

Your body long gone as the day finally ends and you enter your eternal life.

"Go back to the before, change your lore, however, you cannot change what was bound to happen."

Heeseung caresses the book with a dejected expression. His hand trembling with guilt and regret. How can he just let you die like that?

He watched his townspeople burn your body. Your body that turned to ashes and soon, get blown away by the wind. Your favorite music disc playing in the background of Heeseung's room.

You didn't deserve it; you didn't deserve death just because you are a different kind than them. Just because you're a witch and he's a human, it doesn't mean that you shall be killed.

Your family, isolated and briefing over your tragic death. Heeseung's thoughts only blamed himself for the death of his innocent loved one.

He ought to sacrifice himself for you. He ought to see you once more and spend an eternal life with you. His heartbeat incredibly fast as he sees the vision of himself marrying you.

Your beautiful figure wearing a white dress that symbolizes purity. Your hair styles beautifully as you both are ready to make a commitment to each other. A commitment that you and Heeseung would gladly accept; Marriage.

That is how Heeseung got there.

He sat under the tree before he looked around. Such feeling of deja vu hit him before he get on his leather boots. He looks around; the peaceful sound of the woods echoed in his head whilst he looked around for any signs.

Immense amount of pain coming from inside his mouth. He slowly and gently brought his finger to his teeth- his eyes widen when he felt a sharp part of his tooth pierced his finger.

He turns around, his body suddenly stopped responding. His body invisible on the mirror that stood in front of him.

"Heeseung? What are you doing here?" He turns around, shivers on his arm as the confusion clouds his thought. He turns around and he comes face to face with your very alive self.

"y/n?" He muttered your name and you made your way towards him. You tiptoed and pecked his cheeks, you noticed a mirror behind him and tilted your head.

"Why would a vampire need mirrors? You can't even see yourself!" You laughed, you made your way to the mirror and fixed yourself. Heeseung figure not visible at all but you could tell he was confused. You turn around to face him, confused to why he's so confused as well.

"What- what do you mean I'm a vampire? I was born human!"

"What are you talking about? You've always been a vampire." You patted his shoulder and held his hand. "Come on, mother is waiting for you! Also, I don't think you can stay under this sun." You smiled, and drag him to your home.

He remained confused but silent. It happened all so sudden. What confused him even more is that he's a vampire and the last time he remember, vampires don't exist...

"Why are you so quiet? Did you hurt your head or something?" You turned around to face him, a pout on your lips before you both continue to head to your house.

"Y/n, do you believe in time or universe travelling?" He asked, still confused, but curious to what you think. A soft pout appeared on your lips.

"Not really? I mean, witches and vampires exist but I don't think things like that exist- oh, we're here!" You opened the door, immediately greeted by the embrace of your mother and your brother.

"Welcome back, Heeseung! We really missed you both!" Your mother hugged him as well.

"Thank you for having me, mother," Heeseung muttered. He sits down and watched you play with your younger brother.

His head still full of memories from the future or whatever his original time was. He knows you'll get caught, he just knows because no matter whatever happens, it cannot change.

That's what was written in the book he read. That's why before the day comes, he'll turn the tables.

Night has come; the moon shines brightly once more. Thoughts run around Heeseung's clouded mind as he stared at you.

Your eyes tightly shut, little whimpers coming out from your mouth while you stir around in your sleep. Your arms wrapped around the pillow you love cuddling at night.

He smiles before he slowly gets up. He cannot change your past; the villagers burning you then he can change the village's fate.

He quietly loves your home which is now his. The cabin hidden in the endless woods, away from the bloodthirsty villagers. The villagers who loves to ignore innocence go pleasure their own.

The night was peaceful, however, he notices the sky being covered with gray clouds. The bright and glowing moon was no longer visible to the eye.

Heeseung felt anger and greed. He cannot let his love die on him again, it cannot happen again. He ought to protect you and he will keep it.

His feet drags him to his previous home, his cloak touched the leafy ground. Leaves being rustled by his heavy steps and blown away by the occuring strong wind. The village comes to his sight.

The eerie and dark feelings it gave him. Many lingering souls walk around the village they despised so much. Although, Heeseung couldn't see them, they were dreading for him to set them free.

"And that's why I'm here," he muttered. He stepped into the village, the strong wind blows the gray ashes of a human and fire from the ground.

He goes to the place where the burning happen. It seemed much more heavier at night, where everything stays, and goes around the hateful place.

Heeseung takes some a torch on the side and lights it on fire. Heeseung felt himself sweating, not from the fire but from what he was about to do.

He looks around the village, his previous home for the last time. He moves closer to a certain place; the place where they keep the so called witches are.

"This is much sadder..." He mumbled when he saw a torn stuffed bear on the dirty ground. He moves to the side, the cells empty, indicating every witch has been burned during the time of his traveling.

Everything affected him- his feelings is on a roller coaster, and his emotions is in some kind of tornado. However, Heeseung knew what he has to do, and that will be to destroy this village. No more harm will be done if the village itself disappears. Heeseung lights up another torch.

The mesmerizing fire that moved along the wind on the wooden stick. Charcoal keeping the fire alive and steady, despite the wind. He puts some coal around a few houses to make the fire last longer.

Arson, arson seems to be the only thing in his mind. Arson and you, his love, and the people who were killed because of his horrible kind.

Before the wind could get any stronger or before the clouds begin to drop some rain, he quickly throws the torches on the houses. The fire begins to spread, people starts to come out of their houses, full of terror and worry on their faces.

It was a wildfire; the fire spreadt from house to house. The wind only made it stronger, it was as if nature was on his side. His plan was being supported by the dead souls around him who could not rest in peace.

Heeseung stepped out of the village. The black smoke that spreadt the sky was obvious from miles afar. He watches people scream and cry for help as they were getting fewer and fewer.

He turns his head to the side to see a mother and a child. Both had burn marks on their bodies. Both were transparent, you could see right through them.

They faced Heeseung; a much happier smile plastered on their face. "Thank you," the mother muttered before they both disappeared. Heeseung looked up, stars begin to appear. He assumes they're the people who finally gets to rest in peace...

"Heeseung?" He turns around, your shriveled state made him chuckle.

"What are you doing here? I thought you were asleep," he reached his arm out. You slowly made to his side and let out a gasp. The village was on fire... Its people screaming for help whilst Heeseung watched.

"What happened?" You asked, your eyes glued on the burning village. The rays of orange and red looked like they could touch the stars.

"I'm not sure... I just saw the smoke and I came to this," he lies. He holds your hand and pulls you close to him.

"At least, they won't do any more burning ceremonies or something." Heeseung said, you gripped on his cloak you made for him.

You were glad to say the least, however, your mind was debating whether you should tell him the truth or not. The truth of you witnessing what he did.

However, you immediately understood why; he travelled time. With the book he left and you found, it was obvious. You were killed in his world, so he did this.

Although, you were disappointed that you couldn't visit the village anymore, yet you're also glad you're given a second chance to spend time with your love with no more problems or worries.

"Let's go home?" You softly asked him, to which he smiled instantly. He nodded and you both left the freed place.

He cannot lose you again, therefore, he had to do sacrifices. After all, it's either lose you or take the chance. And he chose latter. It was based off a simple word that he fears; "Cannot".

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[king-finnigan]

5 times Jaskier didn’t realize Geralt was giving him a gift for his birthday and 1 time he did

As part of my 500 followers celebration! Masterlist

***

I.

Jaskier practically falls down on the chair opposite Geralt, giving his cheering audience one final wave, before he turns his back to them, dumping the coins he earned on the table, setting his lute down next to him gently.

“Well, that went swimmingly,” Jaskier says, and Geralt rolls his eyes at his wide grin, but can’t stop a small smile from appearing on his own face, as well.

“Hmm.”

“Oh, please, Witcher, even you can appreciate a good performance when you see one, no need to be so dismissive of my charms and talent.”

Geralt rolls his eyes again. Usually, he would’ve simply hummed noncommittally, and dropped the subject for the evening, but today’s Jaskier’s birthday. It’s been nagging at him all day, especially because Jaskier hasn’t even said anything about it. He knows humans like their birthdays, like to celebrate another year lived in this damned world – and he would’ve expected Jaskier to be prancing around all day, demanding special treatment and gifts and attention.

But he hasn’t. And that confuses Geralt. It’s not like Jaskier’s forgotten when his own birthday is – hell, he let the date slip a few months ago, so he certainly remembers, but he simply hasn’t mentioned anything about it, today. He doesn’t even seem particularly happy about it.

If anything, he seems almost sad. Which makes matters worse, because what kind of human is sad on their own birthday? Certainly not the kind he expected Jaskier to be, of all people.

So he’s conflicted. On one hand he wants to say something, but on the other hand, Jaskier doesn’t seem to be in the mood for it.

Also, he doesn’t really have a gift he can give. Hell, he doesn’t even know what kind of gift someone expects for their birthday, it’s been so long since he’s celebrated one.

He does get an idea all of a sudden, and clears his throat. Jaskier, already distracted by a fair maiden on the other side of the room, turns back to the Witcher, eyebrows raised. “Something the matter, Geralt?”

The Witcher purses his lips, shakes his head, decidedly staring at his own ale, instead of meeting Jaskier’s eyes. “Uh… You’re right. Good performance.”

He looks up right in time to see Jaskier’s face light up like the morning sun, and the bard reaches across the table, softly pushing at Geralt’s shoulder, leaving a trail of fire in his wake when he pulls back again. “Why thank you, Witcher! I knew even you could see that.” He throws Geralt a wink, before he downs his ale, standing up and sauntering over to the lady on the other side of the room, who welcomes him with open arms. He doesn’t have the strength to watch them leave, so he retreats to his own room, and hopes the compliment he gave is enough of a gift for Jaskier. At least this year.

 II.

It’s Jaskier’s birthday. Geralt only remembers because the bard seems sad again, which means that, unfortunately, this time he’s as unprepared as he was last time.

So he spends the entire morning desperately looking around, searching for ideas for a gift – though, he comes up basically empty-handed. What he does notice, though, is that Jaskier seems to be limping slightly.

He frowns down at the bard from where he’s sitting on Roach, before he pulls her to a halt. Jaskier walks a couple of steps more, seemingly lost in thought, until he realizes he’s walking alone, and turns around, looking confused. “Why have we stopped?”

“What’s wrong with you?” He closes his eyes, mentally cursing himself when Jaskier’s eyebrows shoot up to his hairline, face indignant.

“Ex- excuse me, Witcher, but-“

“I didn’t mean it like that,” he interrupts Jaskier before the bard can go on a long, offended tangent about how absolutely rude and uncaring of his feelings Geralt is, or something similar. “You’re limping.”

Jaskier shrugs, the slight hurt disappearing from his face again. “Ah, well, yeah, I sort of sprained my ankle this morning when I went to the river to wash off. It’s nothing really, but- Geralt, what are you doing?”

Geralt’s feet hit the dusty path, and he steps to the side. “Get on Roach.”

“I- what?”

He resists the urge to roll his eyes. “Get. On. Roach.”

Though still clearly very confused, Jaskier obliges, and gets on the mare. “Not that I don’t appreciate this, but- why? You never let me ride Roach.”

If Geralt could’ve blushed, he would’ve right now, as he takes Roach’s reigns and starts walking again, pointedly looking at anything but Jaskier. “You’ll just slow us down.” A blatant lie, but he hopes Jaskier won’t be able to tell. At least the bard seems a little less sad now, and he hopes that it’s enough of a gift for Jaskier. At least this year.

 III.

The next time, he’s still very unprepared, and he starts to doubt that he ever will be. He’s also run out of ideas for gifts for Jaskier, and frantically tries to figure something out before the day is over. But it’s well past dinner time, and he still has no idea what to do.

Worse than that, he has no clue where the hell Jaskier even is.

Well, until he walks out of the inn, and hears a raised voice coming from the alley.

Well enough, there Jaskier is, against the wall, three men surrounding him, shouting something about how the bard slept with their sister or something like that – because of course he did. Honestly, it’d be a miracle if Jaskier could stop sleeping around in every town they come across for a week.

He rolls his eyes, the little tendril of fear that had been awakened in him at the sight of Jaskier getting threatened by three men slowly dying down when he sees that none of them have weapons. Really, the only thing they can do is beat the bard up a bit. Though, unfortunately, that doesn’t mean Geralt won’t step in – he always fucking does, for some reason.

He walks forwards. “Gentlemen, what seems to be the problem?”

One of them turns towards him, fear creeping into his slightly rancid smell. “He slept with our sister, Witcher.”

He looks at Jaskier, eyebrows raised, and the slight guilt and exhilaration in the bard’s eyes tells him the men are right.

He sighs. “Not possible, he’s been by my side the entire night.”

“But Witcher-“

“Are you saying that I’m lying?”

The three men look away. “No, sir. We’ll… we’ll go.”

“Hmm.” He watches as the brothers hurry past him, before turning towards Jaskier, who’s smoothing down his clothes.

The bard looks at him with a shit-eating grin, and Geralt rolls his eyes again. “Thanks, Geralt! Knew you’d come save me. There does seem to be a slight problem, though…” He looks down at his bare feet. “I forgot my shoes in her room. Maybe I should go back and-“

Geralt shakes his head, then turns around, motioning for Jaskier to follow him. Any other day, he would’ve let the bard fetch his own shoes back, but today is not just any day, he knows. “I’ll buy you a new pair,” he grumbles. He hopes that it’s enough of a gift for Jaskier. At least this year.

 IV.

The next time it’s Jaskier’s birthday, he’s a little bit more prepared – but only barely, still. He’d realized that it was coming up soon a week before the actual day, and had gone to the market in a dingy nowhere town shortly after that, while Jaskier was busy at the inn, cleaning his lute. (Geralt hadn’t been sure in which way Jaskier was cleaning his lute, but he’d decided that it didn’t matter.)

An old woman at a jewellery stall had told him humans liked objects for their birthdays – preferably expensive. Unfortunately, they were short on coin, so Geralt had asked the lady what kind of non-expensive gift he could give his long-time travelling companion and friend.

She had pointed to a ring, silver and engraved with waves. It had cost him a fair deal of coin, still, but he’d taken it – after all, silver protects against monsters, and he figures it’s both practical and, as Jaskier prefers things, nice-looking.

However, that did leave him with one question: when and how is he going to give it to the bard?

It’s been plaguing him all day, that simple matter. At first, he thought it best to give it at breakfast, but they had been attacked by a small pack of Drowners, so that hadn’t been an option. After that, he decided it would be best to give it at lunch, after they had arrived at the next small town. Except, Jaskier was nowhere to be found – at least, until Geralt walked past the blacksmith, and heard soft gasps in a familiar voice coming from behind the building. He’d walked away as quickly as possible, ignoring the small jab in his chest.

And now it’s already dinner time, and Jaskier’s performing and showing absolutely no signs of stopping, even though it’s well past midnight. So should Geralt give it to him afterwards? Or should he wait until tomorrow? Or should he toss the ring away, dig a hole in the wet dirt outside, bury himself in it, never to be found again? He decides the last option is the best one, but unfortunately, he doesn’t have a shovel and there’d be no one to take care of Roach.

Eventually, he decides to just head to bed. All this worrying and the heat of the tavern has got his head pounding, and frankly, he can’t wait for all this gift-giving bullshit to be over. He’s a Witcher, for crying out loud. Witchers don’t give gifts. Except he still bought a silver ring for Jaskier, last week.

He sighs, downing his ale, heading up the stairs. He pauses for a second in their shared room, when his eye falls on Jaskier’s bag, sitting in the corner. He strains his ears, hears that Jaskier is singing ‘Toss a Coin’ – which is always the last song for the evening – and decides he has to hurry up. He quickly opens the bag, burying the ring at the bottom of it, before he closes it again.

He’s barely stood up again, when the door to the room opens, and Jaskier walks in, lute in hand, grin on his face. “Ah, Geralt! Was wondering where you went…” he muses, setting his lute down in the corner, pulling his slightly sweaty doublet over his head. “So, what’d you think? Another stellar performance, I presume.”

“Hmm.”

“I’ll take that as a yes.”

Geralt rolls his eyes, and quickly takes off his clothes, laying down in the bed. After a short while, Jaskier joins him, laying down on the other side. He doesn’t say anything except a “goodnight, Geralt”, and his mood seems unchanged – still slightly sad – so Geralt assumes he hasn’t found the ring yet.

A few days later, his eye is caught by something glistening in the afternoon sun. It’s a silver ring, engraved with waves, on Jaskier’s right hand, and Geralt barely suppresses a small smile at the sight. The bard seems in a particularly good mood as well, and Geralt hopes that it’s enough of a gift for Jaskier. At least this year.

 V.

The next year, he’s prepared. A month beforehand, when they stop in Oxenfurt for a few days, he goes to a little shop, tucked between two tall buildings while Jaskier catches up with some old friends in a tavern nearby.

He buys some bath salts that smell of roses, some soap that smells like red berries, some lavender oil against irritated skin, and, for good measurement, a lemon candle. It’s a pretty hefty sum, but he buys it all anyways – he tells himself it’s because they’ve been doing well monetary-wise lately, not because Jaskier’s smile is worth all the money in his purse and more.

Once again, he still doesn’t know how he should give it, though, and he simply hides it in Jaskier’s bag on his birthday again. He keeps a close eye on the bard, that evening, as he rummages through his bag for soap and bath salt, after Geralt suggested they could afford the luxury of a bath tonight, and offered Jaskier to go first. The bard had looked at him weirdly, but Geralt had pretended he didn’t notice.

“Oh!” Jaskier exclaims, as he fishes rose bath salts and berry soap out of his bag. “Huh. Must’ve forgotten about these.” He shrugs and stands up, closing the door to the adjacent bathroom behind him. Geralt smiles softly as he hears Jaskier getting into the bath, hears him humming softly. He seems in a good mood – more so than he did this morning. Geralt hopes that it’s enough of a gift for Jaskier. At least this year.

 + I

This time, he’s prepared months in advance, when they visit Novigrad. He finally has an idea of what Jaskier might want for his birthday, and as soon as the bard is gone to find a tavern to perform in, Geralt hurries to the nearest instrument builder.

There, he buys an expensive set of lute strings – once again, because they’re doing well monetary-wise, not because he wants Jaskier to be happy and is willing to pay any price for that. As soon as he gets back to the inn, he hides them at the bottom of his bag, smiling slightly when he imagines Jaskier’s face when he gets them. Though, he’ll need to find a way to actually give Jaskier his gift this time. Or maybe not. Maybe he’ll chicken out again and hide it in Jaskier’s bag, waiting for the bard to find it. He’ll see.

It isn’t until a few months later, on Jaskier’s birthday, that he knows for sure he’s going to chicken out again.

At least, that is, until Jaskier starts rummaging through the Witcher’s bag. Geralt pales, his heart sinking to his feet, and he’s ready to tell the bard to get his fucking hands out of that bag, for the love of the gods.

But it’s too late.

“Geralt, have you seen my chemise somewhere? The white, frilly one, with the metal buttons and-“ He stills, eyes wide, mouth slightly agape as he looks down into Geralt’s bag.

Geralt can only stare in horror as Jaskier pulls the lute strings from the bottom of his bag. “Geralt, why do you have these in your bag?” He doesn’t give him time to answer. “And they’re expensive as w- Geralt why do you have expensive lute strings in your bag?”

If Geralt could’ve blushed, he would’ve, and he looks away. “Uh… They’re uh… For your birthday, today.”

Jaskier simply stares at him, eyes wide. “How do you know it’s my birthday?”

Geralt shrugs, rubs at the back of his neck, trying to get rid of that uncomfortable feeling in his spine. “You told me, a few years ago.”

“And you remembered.” He says it flatly. “Even though I don’t celebrate it, you remembered that one time I mentioned my birthday years ago.”

He shrugs again, looks away.

“Wait, then why would you give me something this year, but not all the other years?”

Geralt bites the inside of his cheek, still looking at anything but Jaskier. “I did, but-“

“You did? I don’t remember…” This time Geralt does look at Jaskier, and sees the bard staring at him, so wide-eyed it’s almost comical. “The soap,” he whispers. “I didn’t buy that myself, you did”

Geralt nods, then shrugs.

“And the ring? That was you, too?”

Geralt nods again, and Jaskier shakes his head.

“Why the hell didn’t you just give it to me, instead of sneaking it into my bag like… like some- some reverse thief?”

“Because I thought you didn’t want any gifts. You always seemed so sad on your birthday, and you didn’t mention it, so I figured you don’t want to celebrate it.”

Jaskier suddenly laughs, and stands up, lute strings clutched to his chest as he walks towards Geralt. “I’m always sad because I don’t get any gifts. I never did. My parents were horribly against it, saying I would get spoiled or something, and I never mentioned it because I didn’t think you’d give a shit.”

Geralt feels a sharp pang in his chest, as the realization kicks in. “But I do give a shit.”

Jaskier laughs again, looks at the lute strings, still in his hand. “Clearly. I just wished you would’ve said so sooner.”

“I thought you knew.”

Jaskier scoffs, looks at him with eyes the colour of the sky and a smile that would make the sun hide away in shame. “Well, I didn’t. If I did, I would’ve kissed you sooner.”

Geralt furrows his brow. “Wh-“ His breath hitches in his throat when Jaskier lays a hand on the back of his neck, pulling him closer, their lips separated less than half an inch – so, so painfully close, but not yet touching.

“May I?” Jaskier whispers.

Geralt doesn’t respond, but merely closes the gap between them, kissing his bard softly. Jaskier smiles into the kiss, and the witcher can’t help but smile as well, as he pulls his bard closer. Too soon, it’s over, and they’re leaning their foreheads against each other, breaths intertwining.

“So,” Jaskier whispers to him. “When’s your birthday?”

Geralt grins. “Don’t even think about it.”

#geraskier #geralt of rivia #jaskier #the witcher #the witcher fanfiction #500 followers #drabble #5+1 things

[innaminitus]

To meet you again

Pairing: Geralt x reader

Request:  Hey! May I request Geralt x reader? Maybe where the reader is a commoner in the kingdom, and while Geralt is there to kill a monster, him and the reader keep crossing paths? But get this: the reader is extremely clumsy and every time they cross paths it’s because of the reader tripping, or running into him, etc ya know? It gets to the point where Geralt starts making small offhand comments about her clumsiness and she shows that she’s actually pretty damn feisty. I’m so excited! Thank you hun! (from @badass-dora-milaje​)

and

Hello there. I read your beautiful lake story and just fell in love with your writing style. So I'd like to request a story if I may: Geralt & reader meet up time and time again. She somehow always helps him out (calms a mob, heals his wounds, gives the missing coin he needs) and she's always kind to him. There may be underlying tension between the two, but she doesn't act on it. There is a change in their dynamics though when she endangers her life while trying to help him again and anger and worry finally make him react, pushing her against a wall and showing her how much he truly cares. Now I'd like to leave it up to you if the smut is passionate and either sweet or more angry. I hope this is okay as a request? Thanks so much for sharing your work and doing this! Regards V (from @superconfusedandreadytorumble​)

Warnings: smut, language, angst

Word count: 3034

A/N: I didn’t proffread it because i’m a lazy ass 

You were… just a nobody, really. Just a clumsy girl, who happened to have just enough healing abilities to help with cuts and burns in the town.

Somehow he always crossed paths with you.

You were picking up the herbs in the forest, finally unbothered. It was the beginning of spring, and the door to your house almost never closed. People were storming you with colds and allergies, sometimes knocking on your door at night. Mothers were… overprotective, bothering you when their sons barely sneezed. In the forest you could finally rest, breathe fresh air and be alone for a change. No one walked that deep into the forest, afraid they might meet leshy and his monsters; you’ve never met him, though and doubted he actually lived in the forest.

That is, until you heard sounds of a fight. Frozen in place, you were too afraid to move. A cry of a beast mixed with hoarse screams and clings of steel, followed by sudden silence. Someone, or something moved for the last time and hit the ground. You waited for any sign that, whoever it was, was still alive.

“Ahh… Fuck.”

Well, that almost definitely was a sound of being alive.

You rushed in the direction of the voice, whose owner, thankfully wasn’t far. A man was on the ground, leaning on the tree, pressing his hand on his thigh. In front of him lied a beast, its horny head detached from its body, slimy blood spilled all over the clearing. Your stomach flew to your throat, but you managed not to vomit at the sight. One deep breath and you looked back at the man. He was bleeding as well, but the difference between him and leshy was that he was still alive.

You walked to him slowly, he turned to you when you stepped on a twig.

“Who are you?” He asked in between sharp breaths. His hair was white and his eyes were oddly yellow.

“A healer. I can help you.” You kneeled next to him and looked at the wound on his thigh. It was deep, and he was losing a lot of blood. You pulled at the hem of your dress and ripped a long stripe, then tied it firmly above the wound. “Come, you need to get up. My home is not far away.”

You held him while he clumsily got up, and supported him while you walked out of the forest.

“So what’s your name, healer?”

“Y/N. And yours?”

“Geralt.”

That was the first time you’ve met Geralt. You healed his wound and said goodbye, believing it was the last time you’d see the white-haired man.

How foolish of you.

He passed your village multiple times, since beasts seemed to adore the forests and swamps surrounding it, and soon the Witcher was a frequent guest in town.

You were reading a book. It wasn’t your fault that you didn’t see him, it was the fault of the heroine in the story, who was making the worst decision of her life.

It wasn’t a pretty picture, really. Geralt was talking to someone, and you just didn’t bother to look above your book. You smashed onto him, hitting him with the book, and hurting your nose badly on his broad back.

“Ouch…”

“What the hell are you doing?” He turned angrily, but his presence softened once he saw you. Not for long, as it seemed, since he started laughing at your miserable form, holding your nose with your palms and tears building in your eyes. He picked up the book you dropped. “I think that’s yours.”

That was the second time. You’ve had pleasant conversation with him, and discovered he also liked books, but haven’t had the time to read them anymore. Turned out he’s not just a pile of muscles and a nice voice.

Finally a day without a single patient. You could spend all calm day on the market, and unbothered buy food. Maybe you’d buy yourself a little treat, maybe a piece or two of peach pie…

You were buying apples when you heard a horse nearby. You smiled softly at Roach tied to a feeder near the inn and walked to her.

“Hello, Roach.” You caressed her head gently. She bumped your basket, full of fresh food. You fed her an apple. “And where’s your owner, huh?”

Suddenly you heard a loud noise in the inn and the door swung open.

“Witch– Witcher!” Geralt stormed out of the inn, the publican right behind him. You didn’t fail to notice how good the Witcher looked, his hair a mess and unbuttoned shirt. “Pay or I’ll swear my boys will kill you in your sleep.”

“You dare to threaten me?” Geralt turned back and faced the publican, who somehow got smaller under his burning sight.

“Geralt,” you called him, stepping closer and placing a hand on his shoulder. “What’s the problem?”

“He haven’t paid for his stay!” The publican shouted.

“I said I’ll pay later!”

“I don’t believe ya Witchers! One day you fuck a whore in my inn, the next day ya dead! And I am left with no money!”

“I’ll pay for him.” You gave the men a few coins.

“That’s not enough!”

“Well, remember about it the next time you drag your pregnant daughter to my house demanding an abortion. And I’ll maybe remember to not tell anyone about it.”

He reddened and, murmuring something under his nose, went back to the inn.

“Abortion?” Geralt raised an eyebrow.

“He has five daughters, and each one is rather frivolous.”

He untied Roach and turned to you.

“Thank you. I’ll repay you, I promise.”

“I know.” You shrugged. “But maybe next time you’re here, stay at my place.”

You tried not to show how many sinful thoughts flew through your head.

He stayed a few times, arriving at the evenings and leaving early in the morning. Unspoken tension between you was enough to keep him away. It wasn’t that you were disappointed, only you were… a little disappointed.

Snow was falling into your eyes as you were trying to make your way back home. You treated a boy with fever, not sure if he would survive the night. The cold was merciless, piercing you through, and you forgot your cloak when you run out to save the boy. Only a thick sweater was protecting you from wind and snow. You cursed your stupidity, dreaming of warm fireplace waiting for you. There was one more thing keeping you warm, but you didn’t really want to admit it to yourself. You just couldn’t help it that his eyes reminded you of the sun.

You stepped onto frozen mud, your poor excuse for shoes not protecting you from sliding all across the puddle. With a squirm you tripped on ice, and waved your hands, trying to catch stability, inefficaciously, only making your situation worse. You were sure to hit the ground, but someone’s warm arm wrapped around you, protecting you from it.

“Geralt,” you gasped, still hanging above the ground.

“Hello, Y/N,” he laughed and pulled you up.

Only this time it was different.

You just… had a feeling. A feeling that you should be out, even though it was night. You wandered around the town, this weird feeling in your guts not allowing you to rest. Your intuition was strong, due to your grandmother being a minor witch, and almost never let you down. It was an unsettling thought, piercing you through, that something bad was going to happen.

You didn’t notice that you left the town and mindlessly walked to the forest. Cold air soothed your burning cheeks and scent of wet grass hit your nostrils. You knew you wouldn’t get lost in this forest, you knew it better than you knew yourself, so you walked deeper, letting your intuition guide you.

Everything was oddly silent. No birds singing, not even the bugs working their way through the bushes. You could barely see in the darkness, but you didn’t need a good sight to feel the blood hanging in the air.

One, two, three vampires, and between them the whitehaired Witcher. You watched the scene with parted lips, as they hypnotized him, one already sucking blood out of Geralt.

You had to help him. A silver knife shone in the moonlight when you took it out of your pocket, glad you took it with yourself. You pressed the blade on your arm and with a deep breath cut the skin deeply, not allowing yourself to whine in pain.

“Blood.” One of the vampires shot his head up.

“Blood.”

“Blood.”

“Human.”

You kept squeezing your fist to pump more blood out of the wound.

“Hey, assholes,” you shouted. “How about a dessert?”

Two of them left Geralt and run to you with awful screams, and it was enough for the Witcher to free himself from their power. You didn’t see him killing the vampire still sucking his blood, the two beasts already knocked you down, their cold, dead lips locked on your neck.

A groan was the last thing you heard before you passed out.

The ground was shaking when you woke up. You were flying, you were sure of it. Was this how death felt?

Your eyelids felt awfully heavy when you opened your eyes, the stars were shining on the dark sky. You moved your head. You weren’t dead. You were still in the forest, in someone’s arms.

“Geralt…” Your throat was sore, you were barely able to make a sound.

His jaw was clenched when you looked at him.

“You are… Stupid. Irresponsible. Do you even understand how big of a danger that was?” His voice was shaking from anger, but he tried not to shout.

You moved in his arms.

“Did you kill them?” He nodded. “Geralt, we have to go back.” You tried to fall on the ground, but he was holding you too tight. “Geralt, we need to bury them, their heads apart from their bodies, with iron nails in their skulls… And sprinkle poppy seeds–“

“I did it.”

“What’s with the poppy seeds, though?” You were taking without any sense. “Like… I know they’re supposed to obsessively count them, but do they really do it?”

“I don’t know.”

“Are you mad at me? Don’t be mad at me, please.” You lifted your hand to touch, but it felt weightless. You had no feeling in your limbs, but you could move them. It must’ve been because of the loss of blood.

“Yes, I am mad at you. You should never put your life in danger, not for me, not for anyone else.”

“I wanted to help you.”

“You shouldn’t have. I was dealing with them perfectly fine without you.”

“No, you weren’t,” you snorted. “They were killing you, you needed my help.”

He stopped. You didn’t notice that you already left the forest and were standing in front of your house. He gently placed you on the ground, making sure you wouldn’t trip. Your head was dizzy, but you were able to open the door and walk inside. Familiar scent of candles and herbs soothed you.

“It would be much better if they killed me instead of hurting you,” you said, your back turned to him, as you lit the candles.

He held your arm, and pushed you against the nearby wall.

“No,” he said in a hoarse voice, anger glistening in his amber eyes. “Stop saying such stupid things.”

“Stop telling me I’m stupid!” You were over it. You helped him, and that’s how he thanks?

“How can I, if you obviously are?!”

“You shouldn’t save me then, leaving me as a meal would eliminate me from your life just fine!”

“You must have no idea what you’re saying.” His hands were clenched on your shoulders just like his jaw was clenched when he was talking to you with such anger.

“Enlighten me, then!”

It took him a split second to press his lips onto yours, and to melt you completely.

“Is that clear enough?” He asked in a husky voice, his face millimeters from yours.

“Not– Not really. You’d have to repeat that.”

Only you didn’t give him any time to repeat it, because you threw your arms over his neck and kissed him hurriedly, leaning on him, almost knocking him down. He smiled during the kiss, deepening it, his tongue slid into your mouth, inviting yours to play.

Within a second you forgot about everything, about the vampires, about how bad you felt after the attack. He was more than enough to make you forget.

He lifted you up, and bumped on a closet on the way to your bedroom, making you laugh, quickly silencing you with his tongue. Soon you felt cold sheets under your back, and Geralt’s fingers untying the ribbons of your dress. He slid the material down your shoulders, kissing every inch of the skin that was exposed to him.

He kissed your collarbone, lick the hollow underneath it, his tongue swiped down, to the delicate skin of your breasts and suddenly you weren’t in the mood for laughing. You sighed when he softly tugged the side of your breast, pulling the dress down, exposing your hardened nipples. With a silent groan he closed his warm mouth around one nipple, caressing it with the tip of his tongue. The other one he rolled in his fingers, releasing a moan from you, and you felt him smile at that sound. His big hands kneaded your breasts as he kissed the valley of them before sliding your dress even lower.

His lips never left your body as he made his way down, gently biting your waist, leaving a mark. By the time he got to your hips the heat between your legs was noticeable, just as how wet you were for him. He kissed one hipbone, then another, and ignoring your womanhood kept kissing until he reached your knee, and then, and only then he made his way up. In most torturous of ways he licked the skin of your inner thigh, left hot kisses above the wet trail and finally, after almost driving you crazy, reached your heat.

He didn’t plan to work his way fast. Oh no, he planned to feast on you.

He kissed your folds, yet that was enough to make you squirm. He stuck out his tongue and with just the tip licked a stripe through them, parting them for his warm lips.

“Mm,” he groaned against you “so wet already, and I haven’t even started properly.”

His deep voice was giving you goosebumps, but it was his tongue that made you grab his hair. He flattened it on your pussy, rubbing your clit and forcing a moan out of you. His hands massaged your thighs, but one of it slid to your folds, to the aching clit while he pushed his tongue into you. You arched your back as he worked you this way, his tongue in and out of you, his skilled fingers rubbing vicious circles on your clit.

“Fuck… Geralt, please, don’t stop,” you moaned time after time as he mercilessly drove you to the edge of sanity, forcing an orgasm out of you.

You were shaking as you came on his face, whispering pleads and his name, pleasure holding your throat tight enough for you to not scream. You mindlessly held his head pressed onto you, spasms of ecstasy making you come yet again around his tongue.

He pulled away, his wet mouth and chin glistened in the light of candles as he ripped his clothes and hovered over you. You kissed him, your taste spilled in your mouth as his tongue was dancing with yours.

You felt his hot shaft on your stomach, how it dripped on your skin, making you hungry for more, more of his body, more of his lips. He bucked his hips, caressing your overstimulated clit with his tip, collecting your slick. He slid into you easily, you caught his gasp in your mouth.

“So fucking tight,”  he whispered on your neck. “So marvelously tight…”

He pulled out only to push back in, and you were lost yet again, only now it was Geralt as well who lost control. As you expected, he wasn’t the one to be gentle.

He rammed into you like a wild animal, sounds of moans and wet bodies smacking filled the room and your ears. You reached above your head to hold the frame of the bed, but he had other plans. With sadistic smile he grabbed your wrists with one hand and held them still as his other hand held firmly your hip, sure to leave bruises. All you could do was to wrap your legs around him to make him reach deeper, and moan when he buried himself balls deep into you.

His thrusts were fast and violent, his eyes travelled from your waving breasts to your parted lips, as you begged for more, for him to never stop.

“Gods– You fill me so fucking good–“ You squirmed as your whole body moved to his pace.

“That’s right,” he groaned, leaning over you as your muscles clenched hard on his length. “I want you to come all over my cock.”

You would never deny that order. A heat wave hit you hard, overtaking your body in its silky arms, as pleasure spilled all over your mind just as Geralt’s cum spilled deep inside your pussy. Your legs were shaking when you rode down your orgasm with his gasps near your ear.

He fell on the bed next to you, panting.

“So… So you care for me. If I got the message right,” you said in between heavy breaths and looked at him.

“Pretty much, yes.”

He also looked at you before you both laughed. He pulled you to a soft kiss before closing you in his warm arms. There was nothing that could disturb that night. Not when you felt so warm, so safe next to him.

You placed your head on his chest and soon the sleep surrounded you like a fog. And you dreamed, dreamed about amber eyes and clear blue skies.

 ___

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#geralt x reader #geralt x reader smut #geralt x y/n #geralt x y/n smut #witcher x reader #witcher x reader smut #geralt x you #geralt x you smut #witcher x you #witcher x you smut #witcher x y/n #witcher x y/n smut #geralt imagine #witcher imagine #the witcher #geralt of rivia #geralt of rivia imagine

[moonflowerlesbians]

41 and 45 please. Just can't get enough of your stories

first of all you're so sweet 🥺 second, I did these and I batched in another one for a longer story and the obligatory soft nightmare fic, so I hope that's okay :)

18. "I'm embarrassed." "Don't be." 41. "Is that my shirt?" "Is...is that okay?" 45. "Don't say anything. Just...just lay here with me."

cw for mentions of child abuse

~~~

The motel bed is empty when Dani drifts awake, feeling in the dark for the warm mass that indicates Jamie is sound asleep beside her. Instead, empty air and rumpled sheets greet her, and she frowns. Still lingering in that semi-sweet state of half-consciousness, somewhere between dream and reality, she registers the shadow of the bathroom light through the crack in the door, which stands slightly agape.

Ah.

She rolls over, tugging the duvet over her exposed arms and sparing a quick glance at the clock on the nightstand 3:27 a.m., it reads. Dani yawns and readjusts the pillow supporting her neck. The doctor had said it would help with the stiffness in her shoulders and upper back in the morning, said she had a tendency to sleep curled up like she was protecting herself. Unsurprising, she had thought at the time.

Long minutes pass, faint moonlight trickling through sheer curtains to adorn the carpeted floors with tigerstripes of silver and blue. Dani rolls over again, flipping onto her stomach, her arm coming to rest alongside her head. Jamie’s pillow remains vacant. Dani sighs.

The floor is bracing beneath her bare feet, and she recoils, suddenly regretting the decision to leave the relative warmth of the blankets. Steeling herself, she pads across the room. Dim light filters under the bathroom door, and she can make out muted noises from within.

“Hey,” Dani says quietly, giving the wood three light raps with her knuckles. “You okay?” The noises stop.

“’M fine,” Jamie’s voice comes muffled through the door. “Y’can go back to bed.”

Another night, maybe, Dani would have listened. Another time, perhaps, if she had not spent weeks, months, learning the intricacies and peculiarities of Jamie’s vocal pattern, Dani would have returned to the comfort of their queen bed and fallen back into a pleasant sleep. At another time, maybe, Dani would have ignored the hoarseness of Jamie’s voice, the sandpaper-rough scratch of the syllables against her throat, the subtle distress cloaked in a layer of false nonchalance.

Dani rests her forehead against the cool wood, the metal of the doorknob in one hand. “Can I come in?”

Silence, for a moment, then shuffling. The click of an unlatched lock. “Yeah.”

She inches the door open. Jamie sits on the floor of the bathtub, knees drawn up to her chest. Strands of brown hair are sweat-matted to her forehead, others sticking up haphazardly, streaked through with shaky finger lines. Grey eyes are red-rimmed and puffy, with a tired stare that wrenches at Dani’s heart.

“You got room in there for one more?” Dani says gently, crossing to crouch on the tile floor.

Jamie breathes shakily. “Sure.” She slides to make room for Dani, who sits cross-legged, her knees bent at a slightly awkward angle due to the nature of the tub. From this new perspective, she can see the piece of fabric balled tight between Jamie’s thighs and her chest.

“Is that my shirt?”

Jamie swallows, a flash of alarm flickering across her features, and her voice is small, so small and so, so frail. “Is... is that okay?”

Dani’s brow furrows. “No, um, yes, yeah, that’s... that’s okay.”

Jamie mumbles something that Dani doesn’t quite catch.

“Sorry?”

“Was in the dirty pile, so I thought... Doesn’t matter. Should’ve asked.” She can’t quite meet Dani’s gaze, and she’s gripping the lilac sweater so hard her knuckles have gone white.

“No, it’s okay. It’s fine,” Dani says, trying her very best to sound reassuring and not as though she’s talking to a cornered animal.

Jamie has not been forthcoming when it comes to information about herself, not since the night before... well. It has been nearly four months since leaving Bly, and Dani feels a bit like an archaeologist, uncovering fragments of a broken past little by little. Some days, she finds nothing, not even an arrowhead, something to point her in the right direction. Other days, it is as if she discovers a bit of parchment thought lost to civilization, a scrap of knowledge to help translate the whole. A perfectly preserved piece of Jamie in the form of a passport, a solitary photograph from a time Jamie no longer speaks of, the dogeared pages of a beat-up paperback.

“Do you think,” Dani begins, cautious, slow, “you could tell me...why?” There is an out she leaves. A minute shake of Jamie’s head, and she would back away, drop the subject at her feet for another day.

Jamie peers at her through clumped lashes. “Which bit?” She asks with a sardonic sort of chuckle, swiping at her nose. “The bit about your jumper or the bit about being a blubbering mess at three in the goddamn mornin’.”

“Both, if you’re up for it.”

Jamie studies her, blinking in the hazy light as though searching for something, like she expects Dani to laugh as if she’s the butt of a sorry joke.

“Yeah,” she says at last, “yeah, okay.” She takes a shuddering breath. “Told you ‘bout bein’ in the system, foster and prison, yeah?”

Dani watches her intently, hands in her lap, an expression of concern firmly situated on her face. She nods, though she knows only the bare minimum. They skirt precariously around the topic when it comes up.

The extent of her knowledge comes from studying Jamie’s reactions to her environment. The way she shirks from loud noises. The clatter of plates breaking in a restaurant, an engine backfiring in an alley. The way she scans every room before she enters, eyes lingering on corners and curtains, and checks the backseat of their rental car. The way she hoards buttons and pop tabs and coins at the bottom of her suitcase, and the way she methodically counts her things before they leave any motel and recounts them when they arrive at their destination.

Habits formed out of necessity in a life of cruelty, a life in which letting her guard down could mean the difference between life and death. A life she no longer lives, but a life that stays with her all the same.

“Had a dream,” Jamie says carefully, her voice almost too loud in the stillness of the morning, “Hardly remember the details now, but... Think I was in my third home. Fourth, maybe. The dad was a drunk. You could always smell it on his breath. Heavy footsteps you could hear coming.” She glances at Dani. “I couldn’t hear him this time. I think he threw a bottle at me, not sure, though. I couldn’t move, couldn’t yell, couldn’t fight back.” Her chest heaves, and Dani reaches out, then thinks better of it. She retracts her hand, leaving it palm-up on her knee for Jamie to take if she chooses.

“Hate being trapped,” she whispers, eyes darting around the bathroom, “Spent too long in places I couldn’t get out of.” She tentatively takes Dani’s hand, still avoiding eye contact. “I woke up ‘n still couldn’t breathe. Didn’t want to wake you up, so I came here.” She fiddles with the tag on Dani’s sweater, murmuring, “It’s not the same, but it was close enough. Smells enough like you that I could pretend.” At last, she looks up, waterline shining with unshed tears. “Bloody embarrassing.”

“Oh, baby...” Dani croons softly, squeezing her outstretched hand. “Can I... Is it okay if I hold you?”

Jamie sniffles, but nods her assent with a heavy sigh. Dani shifts so that she’s reclining against the slope of the tub, with Jamie comfortably settled between her legs, curled on her side, with her head on Dani’s chest. The sweater is pressed between them, the material grasped tightly in Jamie’s fist.

Dani weaves her fingers through the hair at the nape of Jamie’s neck, lightly scratching her scalp with blunt nails. Jamie shivers at the contact.

“’M embarrassed,” Jamie mumbles into the bunched fabric of Dani’s pajama top.

“Don’t be,” Dani says simply, her head resting on the white shower tile. She cannot tell if the flush rising to Jamie’s cheeks is because of the sweater or waking up in the middle of the night or both, and frankly, Dani decides, it does not matter.

It’s unusual, seeing Jamie like this. Vulnerable. Raw. Dani can count the number of times she’s seen Jamie cry on two fingers.

Once, in the aftermath of the lake, they had held each other close in the lamplight of Dani’s bedroom at Bly and wept for all that had happened and all they had lost, great heaving sobs that tore through walls and rafters and flesh and bone.

The second time, just now, with Jamie trembling in her arms.

She takes such measures to remain steadfast, resolute in her dependability, all hard angles and rigidity. A suave exterior carefully constructed to deter those who would attempt to breach her defenses. Cannons on the parapet he keeps loaded with snark and bite and sturdy shoes, ready to flee at the first sign of danger.

She had opened up to Dani, though, a privilege Dani does not vilipend. Took the risk and raised the portcullis to allow Dani to pass through to the inner walls, closer to the center, but not quite there. There was more to discover, Dani knew then and knows now, but patience is vital. Stability. The reassurance that she means no harm.

“Can...Why’d you think you needed my permission?” Dani clarifies, “For my sweater.” Jamie stirs against her, the weight warm and familiar.

“Don’t take things without asking,” Jamie recites despondently, and the weight of the statement catches Dani off-guard. The resignation in her tone, the rhythm of the words are indicative of a phrase spoken over and over again, well-worn and thoroughly beaten into the track of her mind.

(Perhaps, Dani fears in some dark corner of herself, it was not only Jamie’s mind. She thinks of trainers with holes in the sole, bits of cheese swiped from the refrigerator and promptly hidden, and wonders about a little girl left with no one but herself and callous adults who neglect and belittle.)

Dani finds herself shaking her head.

“It’s okay,” she says into the crown of Jamie’s head, her breath rustling wayward strands. “I mean, I’d appreciate a heads up if you want to borrow something of mine just so I don’t think something’s gone missing, but for this?” She pauses, choking on an inconvenient swell of emotion. “God, please, take it. Or wake me up or something, but... you’re not alone.”

Jamie is still, her breath coming in slow, measured puffs against Dani’s chest.

Dani tries, “Most of my stuff isn’t really your style, anyway. Not that I think you couldn’t rock a pink turtleneck.” She considers. “Actually, I’d kind of like to see that.”

The mental picture earns her a wet laugh from Jamie, and that is enough for now, Dani thinks.

“But, you know, if this happens again -- you wake up in the middle of the night -- please, wake me up, too, okay?”

“Still getting used to you, ‘s’all.”

“I know, baby, I know.”

They lay there in the bottom of the questionable motel bathtub until the quiver of Jamie’s shoulders recedes into a steady enough rhythm, in time with the rise and fall of Dani’s chest.

“Come on,” Dani nudges, “think you want to get back in bed?”

“Shit,” Jamie jolts upwards, taking them both by surprise, “God, sorry. Sorry. I’ve kept you up long enough.”

“No, no,” Dani assures, running a hand along Jamie’s upper arm, “I just thought the mattress might be more comfortable for you than I am.”

“Unlikely,” Jamie scrutinizes. She rubs her eyes once more and climbs out of the tub, offering a hand for Dani to lift herself up, which proves more difficult than anticipated on account of Dani’s leg having fallen asleep. She wraps an arm around Jamie’s waist, separating for an instant to nestle beneath cool sheets, then finding each other again.  

“Sorry,” Jamie says to the darkness, the hum of the radiator providing the rattling soundtrack to her unnecessary apology.

“Shh,” Dani soothes, her nails spelling out words from covert languages on the skin of Jamie’s back, “Don’t say anything. Just… just lay here with me. We’ll talk in the morning.” Jamie’s grip tightens on her shirt. “Try to get some rest, okay? I’m not going anywhere.”

She brushes the ghost of a kiss along Jamie’s hairline, smoothing down the wisps that tickle her nose.

4:14 a.m., the clock reads.

Dani does not close her eyes until she feels Jamie’s muscles slacken, the tension leaching away into cotton and dream. Then, and only then, does she allow sleep to claim her.

#as always #no beta we die like dani #im currently sitting in a park so who knows if I caught everything #but I hope yall enjoy :) #fic #writing #ask #anon #my writing #prompt fill #the haunting of bly manor #damie #dani clayton #jamie #dani x jamie #damie fanfic #jamie x dani #thobm #thobm fanfic #is this my best work no but I like it well enough

[heli0s-writes]

simple math*

More smut because I’m a mess. Happy Saturday to all my sluts and I say this in the kindest way. Thanks for your patience! I know these prompts were sent in weeks ago :’)

Read this first 

voyeurism: I’ll write my/your character watching the other having sex/masturbating //  triolism: I’ll write our characters in a threesome. Please stop reading if you are not 18+

brooklyn born masterlist 

Bucky gets it in his head after the kitchen incident. He’s giddy like a kid in a candy store with the idea that Steve fucking Rogers might be a pervy voyeur under all that perfect virtue.

“Shoulda known,” he says the next night, “I used to take girls back to our place in Brooklyn and he’d be asleep— bet he really wasn’t.”

“Stop.” You shove the heels of your palms to your eyes like you’re trying to blind yourself. You haven’t been able to look at Steve all day. It’s beyond embarrassing; it’s excruciating. Every time you think about it your stomach feels like it’s going to launch itself out of your mouth.

“Think about it.”

“What.”

“Think about it, darlin’. You wanna?”

He waggles his eyebrows and winks. Horny little boy? Yeah, Bucky Barnes sure fucking is. Newly discovered, so’s his other favorite person in the world.

Numbers are adding up. He’s counting his coins at the register and getting a nice little indulgence for himself.

“Very funny, Bucky,” your voice comes out shaky.

“Oh, honey,” Bucky corrects, “I ain’t laughing.”

-

Opportunity presents itself in the form of a shared hotel room and two queen beds a few weeks later. You’d forgotten all about his vile teasing—the suggestion he whispered into your ear that night as fingers danced up your belly, breath hot on your neck, invoking a newfound fixation.

You didn’t mind in the kitchen, baby. Bites at your earlobe and you melted into his hands. Maybe Stevie can watch, huh? See you all pretty like this. I know he’d like it. I would too—don’t you wanna make me happy?

Little deviant. Pushed all the right buttons and you mindlessly blabbered at something novel and vulgar and exciting. Uh huh yeah—okay—Buck—yeah, I wanna make you happy.

 Bucky slots himself up behind you in the queen-size tonight, cleverly arranging your body so you’re facing Steve’s back in the dark. It’s not two minutes after you shut your eyes that he rucks the back of your shirt up, deliberately noisy. Warm hand splayed over your spine, he begins rubbing in small circles at first, then broad strokes following.

“You smell good, darlin’. Hmm… Feel good.”

Heat rushes up to your cheeks because what the fuck, Bucky.

“Go to sleep,” You scoot away until you’re nearly falling off, eyes faithfully shut. “Buck—swear to god,” you hiss, “You better stop.”

“Why? Stevie’s awake. He likes it, isn’t that right? You said you didn’t mind, pretty girl.”

It hits like a ton of bricks that yes, technically you said yeah sure, I’d like that—uh huh—letting Steve watch—but your last two braincells were obviously named stupid and shameless. Your heart feels like it’s stopped beating as you try to defend yourself.

“Th-that’s not what I meant--" but the prickle of gooseflesh running down your neck gives it away.

A quiet rustle as legs across the scant space move over sheets and beneath covers. You hear Steve turn, feel the warm air radiate from him. The bed only a stride away from your face squeaks quietly. Two feet touch softly on padded carpet.

“What did you mean?”

Slowly, you open your eyes, taking a chance to see his expression, tacking your hopes on the possibility that he’d be disgusted—it’d be a misunderstanding—and the heat in your cheeks, your belly, can all vanish with an apology.

Instead, he’s moved to the edge of the bed, leaning over slightly like he’s magnetized to your side of the room. He’s switched the lamp on, the backlit yellow obscuring his face, but you can see the flame in Steve’s eyes. Flickering. Hungry.

He’s still dressed as he was for bed—shirt, boxers—but his palm is over his thigh, fingers gently curling.

Cock hard.

Immediately, the heat in your belly rushes to your fingers and toes. Catches you on fire. A shudder and a shy nod. You guide Bucky’s hand to your pants.

With a delighted laugh, Bucky pulls down your sweats, your underwear, and then his own boxers. His other hand grips the back of your head, tugging your head until Steve can see your face. You must look a wreck with your heartbeat so jumpy and loud and your body shivery hot under his gaze.

Steve slides his palm over the tent in his boxers and you follow the motion of his hand, up, down, rubbing the tip. He thumbs the waistband, pulls it all the way off, and the sight of him, just as exposed, frantically turned on with that thick, heavy, incredible thing between his legs.

Fuck. Fuck. Oh, Jesus Christ in heaven. Fuck.

Steve’s ruddy face blurs pink when Bucky pushes his way in, agonizing and slow. Easy, too, because you’re dripping already. He works leisurely, panting in your ear, tickling your neck with until you writhe. He doesn’t give you all of it. Just a little to keep you needy.

“Isn’t she sweet?”

A hiss from between Steve’s teeth and he nods, the softest of yeahs cutting through the tension. You hear him say it again, louder and raspier, and good fucking god, it’s making you so thrilled to be wanted like this. Eaten with greedy eyes. Licked by the gaze of blistering yearning.

Bucky stills himself at your entrance, sliding his cockhead up and down your slit, slippery wet and messy. You try to push back onto him, itching for more—so ready for more—but he holds you still with one hand on your hip.

“Christ, Buck—" Steve groans when you mewl at him like he could do something about this situation. Thin cover around your shoulders, hair splayed out on the pillow—a perfect picture. He’d give you anything you asked for, but—he’s not in charge and Bucky’s an awful tease.

The air is heavy with damp breaths. You can smell yourself. Smell Bucky. Smell Steve. Electric and wanting.

Bucky moves. He lifts himself up, puts you turned-around on his lap, and scoots to the edge of the bed. You press your back flat against his chest, ground yourself on your palms, let him spread your thighs wide. Your head is spinning—it’s all too much. Opened up, exposed—and Steve, watching you with his cock in his hand, knuckles white from fisting so hard.

“Fuck,” Steve mutters, pumping himself, eyes fixed on the way you bounce with Bucky inside again, “Fuckin’ hell. God, you’re taking it so good.” Groans as he swipes at more leaking precome and smears it all down his shaft. “Fuck, I could watch you forever.”

Bucky is nipping at your shoulder, at the nape of your neck when he starts weighing his options, counting his coins, cashing in on as much indulgence as he can. Too much of a good thing? Not for Bucky Barnes. He’s gonna take all the good he can get, especially when you’re giving it to him.

“You want her, pal?”

And the blue flames of Steve’s irises blow out black.

“Y-You sure?”

Bucky grins, “Hey. My two favorite people? Doing my favorite thing to each other? It’s simple math, Stevie.”

Steve laughs, looks at you sweetly, chewing on his lip, “And you, honey?”

And what the fuck is it with Steve Rogers looking like he could swallow you whole while calling you honey in the kindest voice that gets you going? And Bucky, too, loving you and him enough to do something so new and exhilarating—so full of trust and care? The way you nod immediately must look shameless and stupid, but you’re nodding all the same.

So Bucky retreats from your quivery body—alight with enthusiasm—and Steve scoops you into his arms. It’s a bit awkward at first, rearranging limbs and getting it right, but he’s gifted with insight, having seen what Bucky does to you. You’re arching and gasping, pawing at his chest, eyes rolled up so high you’re seeing heaven.

“Fuck—” Steve grunts, dragging his cock in and out, hitting firm and deep, “—Fucking hell.”

“You kiss your mother with that mouth, Rogers?” Bucky teases until Steve kisses you, instead, “Oh—I like that.”

Steve’s tongue slips in, licking yours, wet and warm. He’s moaning raggedly, noises so foreign and similar to what you hear from Bucky, whispering your name, praising your body. You’re saying his name, saying good, Steve—feels so good like that—and it makes him even hotter.

“Gonna come—” Steve groans, finish line in sight, “Fuck, I’m gonna come. You’re so good—you feel so fucking good, baby.”

You hurdle through first, crying out as you convulse around his cock, milking him, squeezing him, throwing him over the edge, too. Steve slows after a few more rolls of his hips, burying his head next to yours, gasping between kisses to your neck. When the two of you look at each other, you can see astonishment and bashfulness alight in his eyes.

So naturally, you kiss him. And he kisses back.

“Buck,” you murmur playfully behind Steve’s soft lips, “What have you done?”

Bucky’s still sprawled out from his position when you peek over, smitten smile lopsided and goofy. His hands are benignly to his side, tissues balled up on the end table, boxers discreetly pulled up before anyone noticed.

“You like that?” He asks.

You nod. Steve does too.

“Good,” Bucky winks, satisfied. “Let’s do it more often.”

#marvel #smut #steve rogers x reader #bucky barnes x reader #stucky x reader #fanfiction #reader insert