#if you enjoyed reading any of this i'd appreciate letting me know because i did spend way too long writing it for real 😭

[loppiopio]

i've been sitting on this post for a few days now and it's literally just, me making assumptions about kudos i've noticed on fics lately (particularly aci since i've been checking that fic every week for book club these past few months) and this'll make me seem more insane than i already come off but by this point. how much lower can i go?

just going from top to down as of today.

[ShibaLee] i know you from your art on here!! tumblr user shibaleeart i'm happy to see more people in potentially enjoying the stories this fandom has to offer :>

[reiscm] shizuchansmilk?? what are youuu doing here? i didn't know you read shizaya fic tbh and i was surprised to see you here suddenly, relatively recently too. does that mean you just started the fic then?? after at least a year of being in the fandom right? maybe this wasn't from your first time reading it (same) but at the very least it shows you visited it not too long ago… i may be delusional in thinking i could be a contributing factor there because, why now? it's not like i'm the only aci advocate out there but i've probably been the most vocal about it around this time soo… well whatever it is, hope you had fun with it! i'm so curious what drrr comedian shizuchansmilk thinks about hit fanfiction a cheap imitation 👁️

i'm also recognising some of the other names around here like [anonymooose] and [durarasaiki] even though i haven't the faintest idea who they might be. i've just been seeing them lately across different shizaya fics which probably means these are the people doing their shizaya fic dive around this time. i have nothing more to add there i just, think it's cool noticing the same names across fics like yeah, we all feasting on the shizaya tag rn.

[ya_boi_twink] it took me a second to recall where i'd recognised your name from and then it hit me. i knoooow you! tumblr user yaboitwink in my notifs… i appreciate you, and i'm glad you liked the things i made for it c:

[bun_o_ween] oh i know you're here because of mr crapo. i hope you guys had fun with it! i wanna take the chance to also admit that like. the moment i found out you were that sebastian writer i experienced the wildest sense of deja vu. because. i had seen your name on ao3 before. but when i checked your fics there was no way i'd read a fic from you?? so then i realised i must have recognised you... through other kudos on other fics??? dude. i must sound crazy, i have no way of proving this because i actually don't remember what fics these were i just vaguely remember it was either bsd or tgcf? that i was looking at fics for, trying to find something to sate my hunger at the time. and i just remember, noticing your name across like a few of these fics in a row and thinking "heh someone else has been going down the same rabbit hole" AND NOW I SEE YOU AND CRAPO OF SHIZAYA FANDOM HITTING IT OFF it was surreal. like. my awareness of you had zero to do with black butler, i could not have predicted that you would have been the random ao3 user i'd seen apparently enjoying some of the same fics i was not too long ago. wow.

there are like two separate flamingo related names around here [niceflamingo] and [flamingoo] which doesn't mean anything but for some reason they are standing out enough for me to want to mention them. i feel like i've seen ao3 user flamingoo in the kudos of some other fic before but idk.

[Luzki] omg hey!! twitter artist vi_138_ woah hiii funny seeing you here :0 especially like. not so long ago? since i'd imagined you would've been aware of the fandom for a while since you seem more invested in the alts than shizuo and izaya in particular? well it was cool seeing that you'd read this one, i hope ya had fun!

[frogsarefriends] right under that is artist hallucxnating >:O i know they've read the fic already but it was cool to actually recognise their kudo down here, especially since it's like. not recognisable just from the name alone, but you've shared links to this ao3 as your writing so now i know it's you. my impression is that you came into the fandom through slavhew since, i'd connected the dots at some point that you two were friends which. made a lot of sense since i noticed you both started being active around here at the same time lol. but hey!! welcome to the club :D

[7FlyingPancakes7] this is one of the ones i'd noticed earlier on during book club, i distinctly remember checking a chapter while walking home one night (because i do that i guess) then BAM what the hell?? i just see tumblr user mari-lair's ao3 appear down there, totally out of nowhere for me. for context this was a writer from the tpn fandom i recognise from like 4 years ago? idk it's been a while, i didn't talk to them much but they were active in the fandom at the time so i'm familiar with their name. i haven't been keeping up with them but last i'd seen they seemed to be into tbhk with no indication as far as i was aware that they'd shown any interest in shizaya. nothing wrong with that it was just unexpected, so i was just like woah!! how did you get here? i am so curious how they may have come across this fic, was it some rec from a friend? how familiar are they with shizaya? how invested were they in the story and characters? enough to go down more of shizaya's greatest hits? anyways, that was just a fun little small world moment for me.

[psych0tastic] hey isn't this…. axietoh? like, the artist who used to draw shizaya like 5 years ago? what are they doing here so high up the list? 🤔 i have no clue lol i still follow them because i really like their art style but i hadn't noticed their interest in shizaya resurfacing... i suppose they just haven't been too active on these socials in general. anyways their name stood out to me and i was like, wait….. well it's a shocker seeing their name so high up here, were they reading this fic for the first time there or were they revisiting it and happened to have not kudo'd it until then? well anyways, it's nice to see they've revisted the fic within the last two years at least :0 that's cool to me.

[MiyukiWynter] dude i was feeling crazy just now trying to figure out where i'd recognised this name from because i'd swwooooorn i'd seen it from somewhere like as someone on twitter?? i think i was mixing them up in my mind with unrelated (as far as i'm aware) twitter user miiyankhr but turns out they're someone who's fics i've seen in the tags before. i haven't read them myself but apparently they just posted a new one two days ago so that's crazy.

[Dodomka] heyyy it's dodo from twitter, hellooo 👋 they've been the biggest supporter for my deep in the sauce fic tweets and for that i appreciate them very much :3 didn't expect to see them here tbh i wasn't aware of when they'd first read the fic but as i was expanding the list a few times to write up this post i noticed their name here and just thought that was neat. shout-out to them!

[mochi010] there's a user named mochi that has shown up in my twitter notifs somewhat regularly and they have nothing on their account so i have zero clue what they might be like outside from that they've been liking my shizuo and izaya retweets. their handle isn't even mochi so i have very little reason to believe this could be them but idk, maybe? no conclusion has been made here. well i already spent time writing and cleaning up the paragraph, guess i'm leaving it in.

shout-out to [ouiouipussay] and [ramenflavorpacketsnorter420] just for having some names that stand out lol. i don't recognise you from anywhere but, i guess now i will if i ever come across those names again.

[Stupidusernamepolicy] i struggled to find you amidst all these names for the writing of this post 💀 had to ctrl+f that shit. but i remember seeing your name here while i was going through the list some days before and being like "oh hey!! it's slavhew :)" but okay there's actually a tangent i've been wanting to go on from here.

outside of aci i've actually been noticing you and hallucxnating double duo'ing under some fics together, like after the story era which i'd reread after hallu reminded me of its existence in a reply, and also sacramental which i had reread because of your reply, lol. i find this quite funny, just like. this visual representation of you two reading and recommending fics with each other. then you talk about it on twitter and more people like me are visiting this fic too. chain reaction of sharing stories :)

ALSO [anonymooose] and [durarasaiki] spotted down here in some of these kudos too!! that's craazy. wow. i tell you guys i'm recognising these names i'm not just crazy 😭

[NotElectricT] this took me a second to dig up again since it's quite buried down that list at this point but the plan i'd had in mind for this post was to end on this one since i saw them kudo it right in front of me (through the vc stream) and i didn't think this post would get as long as it did but... well i already wrote it 😬 but yeah, this is my good friend note! check out this art they made for, still one of their favourite chapters, sharks fly. it's sandwiched in between some squid game au they made for a gift exchange for me..... it's a long story i don't wanna talk about it (embarrassing......)

but what i do wanna talk about!! is how note (referred to as "patient zero" regarding aci book club by the only other patient lol) just decided to read this fic completely of their own volition?? i didn't tell them to do that and for sure didn't expect them of all people to try reading it, ever (they're not really a fic reader) but they just did that, two years ago. and that was like, insane to me at the time because it's seriously so out of their depth guys they don't do enemies to lovers.... they still don't lol. but i was insane about this fic back then with no one to really be insane about it to so i just yelled about it to these friends out of context and i guess???? that was convincing enough to get this one to start the longest fic they'd ever read 💀

i had much fun having someone experience the fic i'd been insane over..... like i'm smiling about it rn thinking about the time i did a live reading of the chainsaw man (as i like to call him) chapter which was so fun i kinda forgot i had a hamilton musical i was supposed to watch that evening... that was awkward. and other chats we exchanged regarding the fic (they were reading chapters whenever they felt like it which i enjoyed because i like pacing these things out) but for some reason (i think things just happened around the time that disrupted the momentum) they never made it past chapter 26 😔 which was tragic to me but oh well....

well i'm am even more insane about this fic now because of this convoluted chain of events that gradually built and cascaded me towards whatever the fuck i'm doing now!! god. i've never made so much, anything, like ever. until now. because both note and rosa (who has not kudo'd this fic as far as i'm aware lol) made the decision beyond my expectations to commit to, a book club. which i organised. and i've been having a lot of fun! so much fun, there's all this wild "marketing" stuff i've been churning out in record fucking time by my standards. i've never felt so creatively fulfilled dude, never finished a thing in my life until these past few months. so that's awesome, and it's in large part because of note having committed to this fic again. so that's some of the story behind that one kudo haha.

and now we're at chapter 49, we're supposed to be talking about it tomorrow, which is today by now since it's 1 am but uhhhhhhh writing is so hard. i was supposed to just be cleaning up this draft i'd written like 5 days ago? i am now very hungry. there's actually more i'd drafted up from here just from more names i recognised as i kept expanding the kudo list that day buuuut i'm fuckeeeen cutting this off right here. i need to stop. the end.

#durarara #i said a thing #if you've kudo'd aci within the past year and you think i'd recognise your name there's a good chance you're in this #this post is adhd as fuck holy shit #well #if anyone has read a single entire paragraph of it thanks :) #too much time spent writing something no one will read?? but idk someone might??? ughhhh #i will maybe go back through to hyperlink more of the artists and writers i mention here #idk #we'll see haha i'm huuuuungry i need to eat something #if you enjoyed reading any of this i'd appreciate letting me know because i did spend way too long writing it for real 😭 #but it's fine what's done is done #getting it out noooooooow #nevermind i spent another half hour formatting the images #i needsta to get diahnosed #i had the briefest mention of actual twitter user miiyankhr in between stupidusernamepolicy and notelectrict #just acknowledging that i saw their actual name in the list #but i cut it because it was literally a sentence or something and this post is already ridiculously bloated #gonna eat now bye please post don't fucking breaaaaak i will die

[sunkissed-zegras]

🌱 with luke!! going to see him play for the first tim in person at his nhl games

𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 | lh⁴³

♡ ─ word count | 585

♡ ─ warnings | luke being downbad for u, jack teasing you two (nothing too bad tho), just fluff!

♡ ─ ev's notes | this was such a fun blurb LOL

You waited for Luke and Jack at the player's entrance, excitement running through your veins. It had been a couple weeks since you'd seen Luke and this was the first game you'd attended since he had officially signed with the Devils. Now after a great win, you and the others are planning on going out to eat to celebrate not only the win, but finally being able to see your boyfriend.

After the exhilarating win, the atmosphere outside the entrance was filled with joy and relief. As the players filed out, you scanned the crowd for Luke and Jack before finally spotting them among the sea of their teammates, your heart skipped a beat. Luke's face lit up happily as he caught sight of you, and he quickly made his way over, still flushed from the game as Jack followed suit.

"Hey, there you are!" Luke exclaimed, pulling you into a tight hug. "Couldn't have picked a better game to come to, huh?"

"That was such a good game, you did so well." You responded warmly as Luke kept his arm around you proudly. "I feel like such a proud WAG, like the ones on TikTok."

Luke laughed as he shook his head, "Oh yeah, that was the main goal - to make sure you get to brag about your boyfriend who's now officially in the NHL."

"How does it feel to be the best rookie this year?" You smiled, teasing him playfully.

Luke's cheeks flushed with a mix of modesty and pride. "Oh well, I mean... Let's not get ahead of ourselves. But it does feel pretty good. Hard work pays off, I guess."

"Don't let it get to your head, man. We need you focused for the next game." Jack playfully added as he looked at his brother, a smile on his face.

"You're too modest, Luke, you were so good out there." You grinned up at your tall boyfriend as he squeezed your shoulders.

Luke beamed at your compliment, appreciating your undying support. "Well, having the best cheerleader definitely helps," he said, leaning down to give you a quick kiss.

Jack watched as you two shared a small kiss, letting out an exaggerated gag as Luke pulled away with an eye roll. "Jesus, can you two save the PDA for, I don't know, not in front of me?" Jack teased, earning himself a playful shove from Luke.

Luke shot Jack a playful glare, "You're just jealous because you don't have someone cheering for you so proudly."

You laughed at Luke's comment as he pulled you closer, earning a dramatic scoff from Jack. "Luke I've got fan-girls all over the world. If I wanted a girlfriend, I'd have one-"

"Whatever, whatever." Luke dismissed with a smirk, "I'm just saying, it's different when you've got someone who knows you inside out, someone who's got your back no matter what."

Your heart fluttered as you watched Luke, your lips beginning to hurt from all the smiling.

Jack rolled his eyes, a subtle smile played on his lips. "Shut up dude, save the relationship advice for later. Plus I'm living my best life right now. No commitments, no stress, no nothing."

Luke glanced at you with a smirk as you two bursted out laughing, causing an annoyed to leave Jack's mouth as he began walking away. "We getting food or what? I'm starving."

"Absolutely," you replied, still chuckling from the joke.

Luke slung an arm around your shoulders, and together, you followed Jack outside to the car.

-> make sure to check out my navigation or masterlist if you enjoyed! any interaction is greatly appreciated! <-

thank you for reading all the way through, as always ♡

#❀ evangeline's 1k celly!!⋆ ˚｡⋆౨ৎ˚ #luke hughes smut #luke hughes fanfiction #luke hughes x reader #luke hughes imagine #luke hughes imagines #luke hughes fic #luke hughes x y/n #luke hughes blurb #jack hughes #luke hughes #new jersey devils #njd #nhl angst #nhl imagines #nhl fanfiction #nhl fic #nhl imagine #hockey #nhl hockey

[meanbossart]

I appreciate how you write Astarion so, SO much. I feel like way too many fic writers infantilize him to a point where I honestly start wondering if I'm the one who misinterpreted him so badly.

I'd love to know more about what you think of his character and his arc. Personally I saw him and immediately went "oh god this guy is gonna be the irritating tumblr sexyman of the year🙄" and it took me until Araj basically to warm up to him. What were your initial thoughts and did they change much while playing the game?

OH thank you so much!!! That's a shame if it's the case, and a little surprising to me, to be honest! While he's definitely written be an aloof jerk a lot of the time, I always found him to be surprisingly mature and introspective whenever he's not dishing out witty remarks. He comes off to me as the kind of person who learned to benefit from seeming dumber than he actually is, overall.

HAHA I had a VERY similar experience, not just towards Astarion but all the characters, really (I really disliked Shadowheart at the beginning, too). I had only seen pictures of him and pretty much expected a vapid character that was being carried to stardom because of a talented VA - and because people go nuts for anne rice style vampires lol.

While I was definitely enjoying his voice lines from the start (Again kudos to Neil) I definitely wasn't expecting much else. He piqued my interest after so devastatingly turning my character down at the tiefling party without me even having inquired, and that's when I, the gamer, was like "well, alright, I GOTTA fuck this guy now" (this is also where DU drow's personality began to come out as you can probably guess)

Obviously, if you have two neurons to rub together you can gather pretty quickly that he's not trying to woo you because you're so interesting and wonderful, so I started getting curious! With that dynamic being so different from what you usually expect of romances in these types of games, plus the charming way in which he is written, I started being won over.

I think what really did it was how gradually his attitude changed when responding to new, mostly trivial dialogue options and doing his greetings as you earned his trust, and ESPECIALLY with how he responds to your tav when you express any kind of fear or insecurity during his romance - which was with a lot of sincerity and confidence in his resolve to support you, and in you as a person, a complete 180 from his usual front - Which, again, makes me all the more surprised to hear that he's often painted with such an immature brush.

And obviously he has a DEEPLY ugly side to him (if you've read ANE, hopefully it's clear that I know this, and that I like to explore it just as much as anything else lmao) but it's very interesting to me how it seem to always come in the form of outbursts, rather than a constant evil-streak, usually followed by a glimpse of self-awareness. It feels very much in line with someone who's actually making a great deal of effort to manage their RAMPANT emotions and going through a lot of internal conflict in the process.

GAH. Yeah if you can't tell by this friggin' thesis I just wrote, I love the way they wrote this character a lot and I was definitely proven PROFOUNDLY wrong in my first impression of him - which, if that's not irony at it's finest I don't know what is.

And as an aside! I also very much appreciate that he's a "queer" coded character who's effeminate (in the Old Homo kind of way, but I digress) and flamboyant, but taken Dead Fucking Seriously. With as much progress as we've made in LGBT rep in media, I still often feel like gay men will only get that kind of treatment for as long as they "Aren't That Gay" (I know Astarion doesn't have a set sexuality - But lets not mince words: stereotypes exist, and he fits into most of them) and as a thin-wristed gay guy who's a little too found of linen shirts, I can honestly say that experiencing a character like that helped me with my own confidence.

#ask #astarion #bg3 spoilers

[manicrouge]

An Ode to Serelia

[𝟷𝟾+, 𝙼𝙳𝙽𝙸] || Part Two

[𝙰𝚕𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚗𝚊𝚝𝚎 𝚄𝚗𝚒𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚜𝚎: 𝙶𝚞𝚊𝚛𝚍!𝚂𝚒𝚖𝚘𝚗 𝚁𝚒𝚕𝚎𝚢 𝚡 𝚂𝚒𝚛𝚎𝚗!𝚁𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛]

[𝙳𝚊𝚝𝚎 𝙿𝚘𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚍]: 01/01/24

[𝙰𝚋𝚘𝚞𝚝]: Displeased is the siren who weeps, a sister stolen leading to her finding the man who helps her to her feet.

[𝙲𝚠]: blood, graphic violence, torture, gore, body horror, violence, character death, murder, loss of a parent, angst, mention of suicidal thoughts, smut, loss of virginity, creampie, inexperienced!reader, possessive!Simon

[𝚆𝚘𝚛𝚍 𝙲𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚝]: 23,720

𝙿𝚕𝚊𝚢𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚝 If you're intrigued in the music I listened to writing, there's a link to the spotify playlist, enjoy !!

[𝙰/𝙽]: HIIII !! This is the story I mentioned the other day on my blog, it's here, it's written (hopefully to a decent standard) and it was a lot of fun to write and I hope you have fun reading it !! Also I did change up the appearences of sirens a little for the sake of being #unique and #different. Greek mythologies version would have been interesting, though I'm unsure how exactly a bird with the head of a woman would translate into a cod fanfiction so please forgive my creative liberties.

Also, there may be the possibility for a part two cause I have an idea if you would like that pls let me know!!

Comments are always appreciated, please let me know what you think... unless you think it's the worst thing you've ever read, then tell me, but in a nicer way pls, i.e. 'bless you, you tried' or 'hmmm, I've read better, good try though!'

(I'm very sensitive).

HAVE FUN!!

P.s. Rhymezone and me were besties while i was writing this. Also I figured out how to make the text tiny... I'm learning guys!!! And sorry for it being so long, tumblr was literally lagging near the end of writing this whoops.

Also!!! Share any request you have for me in my 'Ask me anything'!! I'd be happy to write more alt aus with different characters :))

Please don't post my work anywhere else without my permission !!

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

Illuminated in the night, entranced by the tide, the sailors always come to you, such a mistake they make, too little too late, for they can never ever run. Foolish mortal men, sinking into the watery depths of a sirens den, for a woman in the sea is never just a friend.

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

In the dead of night, you awake to a glow. It's seemingly stretching out its arms, calling out to you.

The orange light bends and warps with the movement of the sea, the rolling waves and glaring light for the moon creating a mixture of light which creates a celestial shimmer on the scales on your tail, reflecting off of your black eyes as you turn your head up in its direction.

The muscle in your chest is pounding, muffled words running through your ears as you keep your eyes trained on the light pushing its way from the shore all to make its way to you.

A full moon is never a good thing, although, submerged in the depths of the sea, you find it difficult to make out the shape of the glowing orb in the sky.

Her light confirms your worst fear, though, your eyes struggle to make anything out.

Even at night, the coral surrounding your bed is sleeping, nature reserving its strength for another troublesome day of battling against the grubby hands of the legged folk who rule both land and sea with an iron fist.

'Don't go meddling with the folks of the land, my dear, for trouble is the only thing ye shall find.'

It's the lesson of your mother which courses through your mind, like a shock of adrenaline through the body, a dopamine which has your hands trembling while sitting in quiet contemplation.

Land folk are dangerous, maniacs who believe they can possess the land and all that walks upon it.

To own the world, you would have to be mother nature herself, even then, her presence is discounted for because one of the land folk has in abundance what she lacks: golden coins.

You're familiar with these things, these little circular items they carry on their being, sometimes in small leather pouches, recalling a few of them being in the pockets of silly sailors who though they had the right to the place you and your sisters called home.

During their time spent, they toyed with the land as though she herself can not feel, taking and taking, so much so, you feared your initial silence to their actions would have resulted in you being damned for an eternity.

They massacred most of the fish, took your food as though it was theirs to take, discounting the creatures in the surrounding water. Greedy were the city folk, both of these golden things and your food, so, you followed the rule your mother had introduced.

Holding you on her lap, she looked at you and your delicate little frame, placing her hand against the wound on your tail.

Blood drifted in the the water, swirling with the current of the water and you sniffled in your mothers lap.

How terrible the wound was, throbbing as she plucked seaweed from out of the ground, using it to cover the cut.

The wound had been the fault of the land folk; they mistook you for a fish you supposed, though your little mind really didn't care to stop and acknowledge the truth of what happened.

The hook they had caught your tail with sat beside your mother and as she picked it up, she held it before you, watching as your eyes grew wide, nearly bulging from out of your little head as you began to squirm on her lap. What a monstrous little thing that contraption was, causing such hurt when it was the size of seashell. Keeping it in your view, she shushed you, opening her mouth, showing you her pointed teeth as she cupped your face with her other hand.

'My poor Urchin,' she lamented, 'it can do no harm now; it's not in the hands of the city folk, it's in mine,' she soothed, yet, despite her words you found that your throat was clogged as you recalled the morphed faces of the men who had caught sight of you when you had been caught.

'Is it because we hurt the bad people that they're doing this to the ocean?' you quietly asked, choking out your words as the gills either side of your neck opened.

It felt as though the hook had been stuck in your throat, ripping the insides as you struggled to the words out while sitting on your mothers lap. 'Are we bad people, mama?'

'No dear, we protect the sea and do the job the Lord made for us, it is the folks on her back who are the bad people, we're submerged in her soul, you see, keeping her from harms way and the cruel games of the true beasts,' she firmly stated, 'we hide from the enemy, covered in the current of what gives life to take the lives of those who are much too greedy for this world,' she lectures, 'so you mustn't pity the land folk; if they stray too far from their home and into yours, it is your duty to keep them away.'

'Even if we hurt them?'

'A lesson taught, is a warning sent, my dear,' she sweetly said, 'for a thieves broken neck is easy to repent.'

You acted that day as your mother had intended all those years ago: cruel, brutal, and unforgiving.

By the time you had finished, the water surrounding you was branded with their blood.

You gasped and choked, spitting out chunks of sailor from out of your teeth, plucking chunks of their cotton shirt out of your mouth the remains of a fish bone; it was far too stuck for you to use your nails, no matter how sharp they are.

You cleaned your teeth, watching as the bodies with their organs descended to the bed of the ocean with their gold coins in your hands while their pockets were filled with stones.

It was payment for their crimes and in death, they paid you to keep their bodies down, away from their families, for, you thought of the children on the coast.

They very well may be human, but they are undeserving of seeing one of their own in such a way.

You felt little when as you watched them sink, and upon reflection, all you ever feel is remorse for your silence.

Had you acted sooner, well, you suppose it would have saved you a trip to the deeper part of the ocean when hunting for food.

In the midst of your exhaustion you find your thoughts again, realising in your moment of contemplation, the little light grew closer to the edge of the coast.

Placing your hands against rocks, you push yourself from out of your reserved mellow cove, cocking your head to the side as you reach your hand outwards toward an orange fleck of light which greets you with open arm.

Exiting the cave, a flurry of bubbles pour pass your lips as their chants grow louder, as though they too are underwater.

Your pointed ears twitch as you push forwards through the water.

Your eyes are heavy as you push through the water, growing closer and closer to the source of the light, the sudden shift in the brightness causing them to sting.

You keep your eyes on the mysterious glow, rubbing your face with your hand, the long nail on your pointer finger catching the edge of your lip. Hissing, you watch as a faint trail of rouge seeps from your mouth, pressing the tips of your finger into the wound. Still, your eyes are unmoving, much too interested in the glowing beyond on the water.

Then, you hear voices.

It's the voice of humans, their low grumbles, cheers and chants causing the water surrounding you to vibrate from their ferocious tongues.

'I found one papa!'

Shifting, you turn your head towards the surface.

Whatever they have found is not for their hands, you sure of that much, and your stomach grows weary.

Oh, what catastrophe are they going to muster tonight? What are they going to use for sacrifice?

Your throat begins to knot, its as though someone is pressing their hands around the gills on you neck as your mind races.

One by the ocean is one of your own. Who else would have landed up on the shore? But it can't be, no it mustn't be; they're smarter than that.

No one else is awake at this hour, you have the consciousness of only yourself and the land folk.

Why would an Urchin be so far out that the spliced fingers of man could get to her?

No, they're in their caves, keeping their ears out for the horn of a ship, or perhaps the merry song of a sailor.

As you break the surface of the water, the waves of the ocean brush against your head, rain pouring from out of the sky, The breeze against your skin rendering you breathless.

You're guilty of feeling a crude interest take hold of you as you peer towards the sure, before ultimately deciding to succumb to temptation, following through your curiosity in the hopes to find what has caused such a disturbance.

It's difficult to see, your eyes are trained for the sea, you have little experience on land and the light above is much harsher than the gentle streams beneath the surface.

As you push forward, keeping most of your body underwater, your ears are greeted with more howling.

Their's excitement seeping from off of their tongues, they're bemused with their discovery.

Perhaps it's one of their rituals; you've found, through the time you have been watching them, they're terribly fond of the sacrifice of their own. Their disregard for the very thing they grew from is disheartening, a reflection of their characters.

Their form of sacrifice is truly despicable, against the order of nature, but they do not care for their own. One could be starving at a table full of food, the very table they set, yet, forbidden from touching a single thing all because of another's self importance.

Yet, it is you and your kind who are the monsters.

It's at times like this you long for your mother.

But, with the rain battering the backs of the humans as they form a circle around their special find, you find both her absence and the shyness of the moon leaves crude goosebumps covering your body as you shift in the water.

'MONSTERS,' a silk tone calls as you grow closer and closer, yet, you are forced to stop; the tide is upset, the moon displeased at such a display of savagery.

The thing in your chest stops, your webbed hands forming fists as you crane your neck forward.

'Monsters you are! Let me go,' the voice cracks as more cheering ensues.

'Cover her mouth,' demands one, 'keep her from singing her murderous song; her voice is as sweet as honeysuckle and it is her barbed tongue which has taken our brothers from us, and we will not let it take us! This is for the men we have lost to the creatures of the sea!'

You watch as the waves grow stronger, the rain landing with a slosh against the sea.

It's difficult to keep yourself in one place, both the fire in your chest and the shoving formation of the water urging you to go forward. You know her tone, though it is shredded and brutal as she speaks, unlike the sweet songs you savour.

Serelia.

'No!' she screams, ripping her vocal cords as you see a webbed hand appear from the circle of bodies, blood dripping from down a wound you spy on her shoulder.

Gripping the sand on the shore, the waves from the water brushing against the tips of her fingers and you feel the crashing body of water forcing you forward.

'Please, we would do no harm if you did none to—'

Opening your mouth, you will a tune to escape you, to pull them away from her to give her time to return to her home. Only, your much too choked up as water floods your mouth, the foul weather proving to work in mans favour.

Pushing yourself further up, you open your mouth, letting out a ghastly wrench as a sudden flood of coldness fills your veins, pulling at your tongue, keeping it pressed against the bottom of your mouth. Your lips quiver from the temperature as you attempt to pry a tune from out of your clogged up mouth.

'I- Illuminated—' you swallow another mouthful of water.

Her hand disappears.

You watch as a hand grabs her wrist, hearing her squeal and scream.

The circle of bodies disperses as you see the ends of her tail held in the forearms of a man.

There's a fire in your eyes, a fire enough to leave the sea bloody as your scaled skin and blackened eyes catch a patch of red staining the sand.

The sea betrays you as it sweeps up, carrying away grains of the red sand as the land folk hold their torches up in celebration as blood drips down onto the sand, the ruined blue scales of your sister turning purple in the light of the moon with the mixture of blood which pours from her wounds.

You watch in horror, hands slapping against the water as you look towards the moon nestled in the sky, peering down at you.

In the light of Luna, you recall her face.

Her innocent little face, doe eyes, cheery grin, how her nose would crinkle at the slightest accusation whenever she had done something particularly troublesome. The colour of her tail, how she looked when she sat upon the rocks singing her merry songs for the passersby to listen to.

A gift for the men she was, a gift spoiled by their grubby, wretched hands.

A sister as such spoke with a silk tongue, cohesive, one of your most prized possessions. A chest of jewels from horrid humans simply never compared to the life of one of your own, nothing.

Not even their dastardly golden coins.

Your head grows light as you keep your eyes trained on the humans marching forward, the light from the sticks they carry in their hands growing weary in the distance as the wind grows stronger. It's all too much, the sight of one of your own, the knot in your throat keeps you from gulping down necessary gulps of air. You feel nauseous, an icy chill freezing the blood in your veins.

Sinking back to the depths, your hand is forced and you're kept away from the dreary sight as the current drags you back under.

In the warped complexion of the surface, you see the moon still staring at you and you bark out in fury, 'you backstabber,' you roar, 'I saw my mother in you and you have betrayed our own for keeping you safe,' you continue onwards in your fury, your face contorting as you point up towards the surface.

'She has done nothing, as innocent as an Urchin can be, and you take her? Why not me?'

The current grows displeased.

'We give our lives, all our lives... my mothers,' you heave, placing a hand against your chest, 'I know not the secrets of the land, I don't possess the means to go upon the surface, how- how do we get her back? Why? Why would you take her and not me?' you choke out.

She shifts in colour, you spy her eyes growing red as you look upwards at her. 'She does not deserve to be a part of their game, neither did my mother,' you cry, 'take me, I'm offering myself up, leave her—'

There's a pull in the current, the rolling waves above the surface plunging downwards with a spiralling head.

You meet the eye of the storm, bubbles escaping your mouth as you bring your hands to cover your face. It hooks you, pulling you into as a ton of water comes crashing down into the small pocket of air you have become trapped in.

The last thing you catch before you're senses are flooded with darkness is the red glint in Luna's eye before you descend into the abyss.

＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚ ☾ ˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

It's with the crude calls of village folk that he leaves his post.

There have been some form of disturbance for the past couple of nights, and after the first ending him standing on the shore of the town, his eyes being battered with the wind and sea, he found he has little interest in part-taking in the games of the fools. Fortunately, as he raises from his post, peering from out the window, he hears a shift behind him.

His eyes are unmoved by the chaos beyond the warning, his lids only lifting when he catches a child rushing ahead of the crowd of people.

His words are lost in the hollers of the crowd, though, he bounces with such excitement, the type that can only be likened to when a child gets money for chocolate, or even a new toy.

Only, he's acting as though he has won the biggest and best chocolate bar, his little head bobbing as he bounds down the cobble streets, his hand wrapping firmly around an elder mans wrist, tugging him along eagerly.

From behind him, he hears the scrape of a chair and a weary sigh. 'Another call for me? Swear, they cause mischief in the dark they do,' he comments with a hearty chuckle.

Turning away from the window, the red glow from the fire on the end of their torches lights emits an orange light in the room, though, the man before him is covered as stray arms of light stretch beyond his bulky frame, merely able to catch even the side of the man with a mohawk's face.

'Has Price told y' what they're up to? It's been every fuckin' night for weeks straight,' he asks, tugging down the edge of his mask, tilting his neck either side, a crude snap emitting as he does so.

The man standing in front of him offers him a toothy grin, crossing his arms over his chest with a short nod. Muscles bulge against the white cotton clinging to his frame and he readies himself by undoing the buttons on the cuffs of his shirt, pushing the sleeves to the crease of his forearms.

'Apparently, they're lookin' for merfolk or somethin', y'know what Captains like, doesn't 'ave the time for stupid shit like this,' he explains, 'read too many fuckin' fairytales if y' ask me. Couple ships disappear off of the coast and they believe a fuckin' fish did it?' He breaks out into a spell of roaring laughter. 'They call 'em sirens.'

'Sirens?'

'Aye,' nods the slightly shorter man, rubbing the stubble on his face with his hand. 'Sirens,' he adds, 'lore men to their deaths with their songs they do, supposedly, prettier than any lass on the land... sounds like a story written by a man, eh? Beautiful bonnie's with a good throat on em', paradise if y' ask me,' he proceeds to laugh even harder at his own joke, kneeling over as he does so.

It takes a brief moment for him to realise the masked man standing before him is unmoved by his comments.

Awkwardly, he comes to a sudden stop as he peers up at the man, slowly adjusting his posture, using his hands against his knees to steady himself as he notes the red lights behind him have disappeared.

'Suppose I should go and fetch them back,' he quietly grumbles, 'keep an ear out though, won't ya, Ghostie? Needa make sure they don't try n' sacrifice me to the sirens!'

'Affirmative,' he says briefly, turning his attention away from him, listening to his footsteps against the floorboards as he tucks his gloved hands into his pockets. 'Johnny,' he calls out.

The footsteps stop.

'Doesn't count if I find out y' went into the water to find them yourself,' he warns, looking over as the man nods his head, 'I'll drag you back in and sacrifice y' myself.'

'Gonna take more to get rid of me than that, Lt,' he answers, pushing the door open, 'throw a pint of ale in the sea, an' maybe, just maybe you'd get what y' want,' he laughs, walking out of the door with his hand pressing on the handle of the sword sitting at his waist.

The taller man stands and watches as he disappears into the dead of night, shaking his head in his direction.

'Fuckin' hell,' he grumbles to himself before turning his attention back to the chair he'd perched himself upon, grabbing the dagger he had set down onto the table, grabbing the cloth sitting beside it before kicking his feet back up onto the table, watching as Johnny disappears past the window, heading towards the crowd of chaos.

Turning his attention back to the dagger, he eyes himself in the refection, noting the redness of his eyes before rubbing the cloth over its smudge surface. 'Lost their fuckin' mind, can never excuse shit in a reasonable,' he grumbles to himself, 'better chance of Price quitin' smoking than there is the chance of fuckin' sirens,' he continues on, lifting his head when the candle perched on his desk flickers.

'Bloody lunatics.'

As he sat in the silence of the station, he finds his mind wandering. It's unusual for his mind to ever really escape him, although, with the sight of that little boy jumping up and down in such a manner he finds it difficult to shake a niggling feeling which is poking and prodding at his temple.

His excitement was evident, that much was obvious the longer he focuses on the memory.

If such is the case, if there is truly something behind the little boys excitement, he's there, sitting on his ass, doing absolutely nothing while the man is left to deal with everything to come from whatever has been found. There's something different about the tone of the people, he sees it well.

Terror trickles in, one head at a time, passing by the window in a manic flurry.

At first, he doesn't notice, far too interested in the blade he'd pulled from the sheathe resting on his belt to see the chaos unfolding beyond the window of the station. Their words a muffled, and they seem distant as he eyes the popped blood vessels in the white of his eyes. Moving the metal closer to his masked face, he narrows his eyes, rubbing the cloth over the blade again.

The door bursts open, and while unnerved, outwardly he remains still, snapping his head around.

The man who had left no more than fifteen minutes ago is back, his face wind swept and pale as he heaves out heavy breaths, keeping his arm firmly against the door.

His white shirt is soaked through to the skin, the pinkness of his flesh peeking out from under the fabric, his calf high boots marked with wet sand, crunching as he steps a single foot into the Station, not daring to take one more.

It's easy to read his face, though he finds his brow creasing as he realises that the very look on his face is fear.

Immediately he stands up from his seat, the flame of the candle beside him flickering as he does so. Tossing the cloth onto the table, he sheathes his knife, grabbing his coat from off of the back of his chair, throwing it over his shoulders.

'What?' he asks, 'a fight break out or somethin'? Look like you've seen a ghost,' he breaths.

Johnny doesn't offer him a response for a moment, only looking up towards him with wide eyes, unable to pick his jaw up from off of the ground.

'Fucks sake, Johnny, what—'

'Siren,' he says quietly.

It's difficult to catch what he says with the rain hitting the window and street beyond the office. His lips curve into a crooked smile beneath his mask as he shakes his head.

Sirens? Is he fucking stupid?

The expression on his face doesn't change, even when he hears the small laugh escaping the confines of his mask.

'A lass was on the shore n' she has a fuckin' tail!' he exclaims, pushing himself up after catching his breath, 'tail blue as the sea, eyes black as the void... they bloody exist.'

'And where is she now? She go back into the water to swim off with her friends, hm?' he asks, 'ride away on the back of a horse with a horn on its forehead and wings too?' he scoffs, shrugging his jacket off, only for a hand to reach out, grabbing his forearm.

'Still on the beach.'

'The beach?'

'Aye.' he says, 'ran as fast as I could, woke Price 'n Kyle up, 'told them they had to get to the beach quick. If they keep hold of her, they're gonna kill her- she's a bloody mess, cryin' and screamin'.'

He pinches himself to make sure he's still awake while staring at the soaked man. In no way can he find a single thought in his mind at this moment to make anything make sense.

In fact, he feels a prickling heat flooding his flesh the longer he stands and processes what has just been relayed to him.

They're real, they're real and they have found one.

Despite the implications, it's difficult for him to miss the worry in his tone, and while what they deem to be a monster has just appeared off the coast of Lakekeep, he's still worrying about its safety.

'We have to go, they're gonna kill 'er, Ghost.'

Fixing his coat, he looks down at the dagger resting at his hip, giving a short nod as the man lets go of his arm.

'Price and Gaz followin' along?' he asks.

'Aye, didn't believe me at first,' confesses the man with a short laugh, 'still can't believe it meself and I've seen it with my own eyes,' he says, stepping back out into the rain.

Ghost follows after him, slamming the door of the Station shut as the head down the cobbled path, their boots splashing in the puddles forming in the tight streets as the rain hits the ground harder.

Their chants carry through the village, washing over the usual silence like a tidal wave, flooding his senses with cries and pleads.

As they edge closer, he can hardly believe it as a woman's voice bellows out, 'MONSTERS!'

It's brittle and broken the way she cries, and oddly, he feels that the voice tugs at his heartstrings.

'Mustn't listen to her speak, Lt,' he says, 'what they said is true, apparently the boy found her on the shore and when he approached her, he heard her hummin' a tune- said it had him in a trance,' Johnny says, looking to him.

'Monsters you are! Let me go!'

Stepping down off of the stone steps, the pair of the pursued the scene, hearing stray voices fall from out of the crowd, demanding that her mouth be covered in order for them to fulfil some form of revenge. Watching on, he catches the appearance of a bloody webbed hand poking out from the crowd, landing against the shore with a wet slap.

It's as though she's reaching out for something.

Following the line of her forearm, he watches as the sea climbs up the shore, touching the tips of her fingers as she continues to scream and cry.

Moving his attention from off of the beach, he looks to the water, eyeing the crashing waves as the wind sweeps the fabric of his long black coat to the side. The water is restless, and with the rain pouring from the black sky, it's difficult to make much out that isn't just raging water.

Although, in the glow of the torches which whip and wind in the wind, the light covers a fair distance beyond land, and he spots something in the water. In the darkness, it's difficult to make out more than a silhouette of what appears to be a human head. Only, after another crashing wave, he catches sight of pointed ears either side of the head.

Something is watching them, yet no one sees it.

'No!'

The scream from the centre of the crowd rips him out from his trance as he turns his head, following after Johnny.

'Please, we would do no harm if you did none to us. Please, let me go!' she screams with all her might, her voice piercing to the ears of everyone in the surrounding area.

The crowd dips as they shift, covering their ears with a harsh wince.

Finally, she's unveiled to him.

A gash in her head is pouring blood down her bare breasts as she fights and writhes against the hold of the hold of the men who keep her captive. Her ginger hair is matted and covered with the blood and sand, as is the rest of her body.

The slits on the side of her neck, similar to the ones on a fishes body open and close as she lets out muffled cries.

His eyes trail further down her battered body, the sight of a blue tail stained with blood greeting his gaze. In the light, it appears almost purple as the blood mixes with the shimmer of her scales.

Screwing her eyes shut, she fights with all the fury in her being, and as he watches her, he feels the same heat he felt at the station creeping back onto him, and despite the harshness of the weather, the warmth beaming from his skin is enough to keep him from shivering.

'Alright, move out of the fuckin' way!'

It's the voice of his Captain bursting through the chaos of the surrounding area.

Turning to look over his shoulders, he catches sight of Price and Gaz walking down the beach, and with ease, Price holds his hands up, his words catching the attention of the the booming crowd.

Silence falls upon them, the sirens cries mixing with the crashing sound of the ocean. The man moves past both himself and Johnny, Gaz standing between the pair of them as he parts the crowd with an astonishing ease.

The gasp that passes his lips when making it to the centre is enough to make even his blood run cold.

There's a moment of silence, the sound of the torches whipping against the wind as he keeps his eyes trained on the back of his Captains head.

Clearly, the cogs are turning, expecting what Johnny had told him to be that of a stupid joke, only, it isn't.

It's real and it's squirming around on the ground, staring Price right in the eyes.

'She's a murderer!' a voice shouts from the crowd, 'her and her people, she said it herself,' the continue on, fury carrying their tone past the cries of the woman on the ground.

Price continues to look at her, and as he looks over his shoulder, catching his eye, he turns back to the woman on the ground.

'Take her in,' he says with a firm nod, 'we'll put her in a cell in the Station for now, figure out what to do with her later,' he continues, looking at the two men who held her arms, 'carry her back to the Station,' he rules, resting his hands on his hips as he observes all the other faces in the crowd, 'as for the rest of y', funs over for tonight, get back home,' he demands.

'We'll take it from here. '

＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚ ☾ ˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

You awake with a brittle moan.

Your mouth is full of send, a dull ache radiating from your chin as your forehead creases when you look ahead of yourself. You teeth bite down on the sand in your mouth, a disgusting crunch causing you to wince.

Memories are stubborn, not wanting to come back to you, only allowing you to recall the sight of blood on the beach and the crashing waves around you.

With a grunt, you attempt to push yourself up off of the ground, a grunt escaping you as your breasts push against the sand. Tearing your eyes from off of the beach in front of you, you shiver as you feel the water wash up, brushing against your limbs.

Looking to your hands, a startled gasp escapes you as you hold one out in front of your face. No longer are they webbed, no, instead, your fingers are separated. Curling your hand around the dark sand before you, you clench it in your fists, watching as it poured past it. Your hips ache as you shift, placing your cheek back against the sand.

Your head is spinning, you can't think of a single thing aside from the fact that your mouth is dry, horrifically dry.

You muster up what little spit you can, expelling grains of sand as the spit clings the your bottom lip, dribbling down the side of your mouth.

The water moves further up, and as you go to move your tail, you're startled by the sound of footsteps on the beach beside you, only, you're too tired to even check who it is.

I've failed as a sister, so if I must go out like this, then I will.

'Ma'am! Oh fuck, ma'am, are you okay?'

The tone is light, different to what you expected to hear counting you have washed up onto the very same coast you had seen Serelia on the night before... if it was even the same day as her disappearance, that is.

The sand crunches beside you as a shadow looms over you, keeping you from the brutal beams of the sun, a hand pressing against your shoulder.

Picking your head up, you muster out a pained whimper as you look at the man in front of you. Concern is etched on his brow as he stares down at you, shrugging off a piece of clothing, resting it against your shoulders.

Your eyes are narrow as you keep your eyes trained on him, unable to look anywhere else as he carefully places his hand against your cheek.

'Can you tell me your name?' he gently asks.

You swallow hard, your chapped and cracked lips pressing together.

Your eyes grow heavy.

You hear another curse under his breath as exhaustion rattles your body. Your head falls heavy and his hold on you slips away, gently placing your head back against the ground. You hope he leaves you be, allows the sea to swallow you whole so you can be with your own once again.

Two firm hands press against your shoulders, gently guiding so you're lying on your back.

His shadow keeps the sun from you once again as he scoops you up into his arms, keeping a firm grip around your shoulders and tail. his hand slips slightly as he uses his jacket to cover your breasts, and you shift when you feel his hand move lower, being extra cautious to cover up your tail.

His breathing is rough as he rushes up the beach with you in his arms, every step causing you to shift or hiss.

'Sorry, love,' he softly apologises, pulling you closer. You note how his pace slows upon him noticing the pain he's causing you by running, 'do you know where we are?' he asks, looking down at you.

Cracking your eyes open, the back of your neck burns as you attempt to look back at him. Poking your tongue past your lips, sand scrapes against the back of your throat as you open your mouth, all for a hoarse croak to escape your lips.

'Have to get you somethin' to drink,' he says firmly, 'you're okay now, love, I promise,' he reassures, pulling you closer to him.

You muster up a short 'hm', resting your head against his chest, listening to the little muscle in it thumping as he heads up the stairs, taking your further away from the beach.

The pair of you remain in silence and you hear the passing giggles and whispers of passersby as he keeps you against him.

You're unsure of what they're saying, though you're sure they're most likely laughing at your tail.

It's surprising hearing such a humorous reaction from them, figuring they would respond in a similar manner to how they did when you had heard Serelia screaming on the shore.

Mustering up a grunt, you flinch as your body is lightly pressed into a door. It squeals as it opens, and the very first thing you hear is a booming voice. It causes the dull ache in your head to worsen as you flinch.

'Am tellin' ye, it's straight out of a fuckin' fairytale it is,' booms the voice, 'can y'—'

There's silence.

Your eyes crack open as you observe the room you're in.

It's different to home, there's a rich smell, similar to the smoke from the lights on the beach.

'Found her on the beach,' confesses the man holding you, 'Johnny, go get some water, please,' he asks, 'she's got a mouthful of sand, she can hardly speak.'

There's a short answer, you can't quite hear it, as he moves you further into the room, setting you down.

Your damp hair hits the plush fabric of a pillow and something is pulled over your body. It's light, harmless.

'Where was she?' asks an unfamiliar voice. It's low, his accent is thick and as you turn your head to the side, you note the man has a thick brown beard, his hair quite short. Stepping towards you, he rests his large hand on your forehead. 'She's burning up.'

'She was near the same spot as last night where that... siren was,' he says.

It's as though life is breathed into you as you quickly sit up, ignoring the dizziness wrecking your mind. The man quickly pulls his hand from off of your forehead, moving it to your shoulder. 'Calm down, love,' he gently instructs, looking to the man standing beside you, 'you reckon she was attacked by it?'

'Could have been; she seems shaken,' he confirms.

Confusion hits you as you lift your tail, only to find that is has vanished.

As you lift your legs, a distraught gasp escapes you as you catch sight of legs.

Two legs- the same as the three men in the room have.

Quickly, you slap your hands to the side of your ears, your chest heaving as you realise your ears have shrunk, resembling that of the legged folk. Everything seems to come tumbling down in front of you, your head pounding as your eyes begin to sting.

'Hey, hey, you're fine,' hushes the man who found you on the beach. The door opens again and a cup of water is handed to him. Taking a seat beside on the bed beside you, he brings to the cup to your mouth. 'Have a drink,' he instructs.

You want to tell him no, to demand to know what they have done to her, yet, you know you can't do anything until you have something to drink.

So, you press your dry lips against the rim of the cup, allowing him to pour it into your mouth. The feeling is euphoric, unlike any sensation you've ever dreamt of, and you eagerly swallow down mouthful after mouthful of water, taking the cup in your own hands.

You're aware of the eyes on you, but you don't care, drinking from the cup until it is empty. With heaving breaths, your wipe your mouth with the back of your hand, keeping tight hold of the cup.

A hand settles against your knee, and as you look back up, the man who was sitting in the corner is now standing behind the two closest to the bed. You note the man who brought you water has an odd haircut, while the much taller man's face is completely covered aside from his eyes.

It's strange, the fabric of a thick hood pulled over is head, his eyes peering through the holes of a skull.

Is that real?

'Sorry, sweetheart, I didn't mean to upset you,' says the brown-haired man, squeezing your bare shoulder.

You look at him with your lips pressed together, bringing the cup closer to you as you swallow hard.

Despite his caring words, you find yourself unable to open your mouth- unable to trust him. He's going to hurt you if he finds out what you are, then what? You're forever bound to their land?

'What's the last thing you can remember before you washed up on shore?' he asks.

You look at him with beady eyes, and the man with his hand on your knee pats you gently, 'you're safe here, we're not gonna hurt you,' he reassures. 'You seemed panicked when we mentioned the mermaid, does it have something to do with her- or more of them?'

Your mind is racing trying to piece together a narrative.

Confirmation that she was the thing that put you in such danger will surely be a death sentence- if she isn't already dead. Living with that on your consciousness is a horrid thought to even think of, so, you distance yourself away from creating an accusation, though you find yourself in trouble as you realise how you reacted to the mention of her.

Essentially, you've acted on impulse and no matter the response, you're unsure if it's going to suffice.

'I- I...' you begin, your throat burning as you bring your hand up to clasp it, 'I was on a ship,' you answer, 'I remember it in water- b- but then there was a storm,' you explain, your voice choppy and broken as you rub your hand up and down your throat finding that even your gills have disappeared. 'The siren,' you begin, clearing your throat, 'she tried to help me.'

'Help you?' mutters the one with a strange haircut. 'How'd she do that, lass?'

'I- I was stuck,' you say, 'I couldn't get out an' she tried to, uh, pull me out,' you explain, 'but she got hurt- it might not even be the same one but... there was one, a good one,' you explain, gulping hard as the masked man standing beside the man with his hand on your shoulder shifts on his feet, his eyes burning into your flesh, the sunken eyes behind the skill mask leaving goosebumps on your flesh.

He's harsher than last nights current.

Keeping your eyes trained on the man, you observe him as he peers down at you, his built frame making you feel small. Most definitely, you do not want to get on his bad side; he could probably crush you with one hand.

'Couldn't have been the same mermaid,' he answers, his tone causing your chest to almost rattle, 'took an entire night for you to even wash up here, you wouldn't have survived if it was her,' he notes, the others around you shaking their heads in a collective agreement.

Your heartbeat is pounding in your ears, you feel blood coursing through your veins as you look up at him with teary eyes.

Your bottom lip protrudes as water begins to pour from your eyes. It's unlike anything you've ever felt, and, despite your burning eyes, you find the sensation oddly relieving.

You throat grows tight as you sharply inhale, allowing the cup to rest against the covers as you press the tips of your fingers into your cheeks.

A hiccup escapes your lips as your mouth trembles, all the misery of being lost and having lost escaping you in a cathartic sob that causes your entire body to shake.

'I- I don't know where I am, I- I'm scared,' you confess as more water clings to your eyelashes in little droplets, clinging on, only for their grip to fall loose as you blink, releasing more fresh streams onto your flesh.

Releasing a hand off of your shoulder, the man stationed beside you looks to the man who has his hand on you knee, 'you think you can go and get her some clothes? Poor things on show for the entire village to see,' he says. The man purses his lips for a moment, 'she's gotta have something that she doesn't want.'

'Has so many fuckin' dresses she won't even notice one has gone missing,' he says, standing up from off of the bed, 'I'll go and try and find something, as long as I don't take her cyan one I don't think she'll be too bothered,' he shrugs, 'keep an eye on her for me, won't you?' he asks, looking at the three.

The man with the peculiar haircut places his hand against his shoulder, patting it, 'she's in the best hands of the entire village,' he reassures, 'go an' find the lass some clothes, Gaz, we'll kep 'er safe,' he promises.

Gaz. What an odd name.

The rest of their conversation is lost on you as you're far too caught up in the tightness in your chest and the sounds of the screams you heard on the beach the night before to even think about anything else.

Only, when the door shuts, you startle at the sound of the slam, snapping your head up.

'MacTavish, I need you on patrol today,' says the brown-haired man. The disappointment on his face is notable as his eyebrows curl, 'everyone's on edge with the entire mermaid incident, the last thing I need I people trying to cause more trouble or almost drownin' going to find one of their own,' he says, 'speaking 'f which, need to go and check on her myself, make sure the head wound isn't goin' green,' he huffs, turning to the masked man standing behind him. 'Keep an eye out on her,' he states, turning his attention back to you.

Inwardly, you breathe a sigh of relief, allowing yourself to bathe in your emotion as you come to terms with the fact that she's alive.

Your eyes meet with his, your heart burning at the sight of pity burning in his gaze.

If things were any different, you very well would have wiped the soft smile off of his face, but you look at your options and his uniform, likening it to one your mother had described to you in the past.

'They like to think they have control, dress up in clothes just to make the isolation of their species more capable,' she explained while sitting in upon one a rock. You accompanied her, looking at her. She had such knowledge of the world beyond the water that you were simply awestruck with every story she told you. 'Fabric makes people listen, they're scared of the people with the golden buttons and sharp metal swords.'

'If you need anything, ask him and he'll get it for you,' he asks, looking over his shoulder at the man.

His tone grows harsher upon the mention of him doing his duty, your eyes falling to the man.

'Won't you, Ghost?

The masked man grabs the chair he was sitting on when you first entered the room, moving it as the brown-haired man and MacTavish move in the direction of the door. The chair settles at the side of your bed, as the pair move towards the door.

'Affirmative,' he grunts, taking a seat beside you while the two leave the Station, leaving you alone with the masked man called Ghost.

You look at him briefly, swallowing hard.

It's difficult to sit in silence, your stammering breath a reminder of all you've lost.

Beady eyes look at the masked man as you attempt to choke up the courage to say something to him. Despite sitting, his frame is much bigger than anyone else's you have ever seen, and as he leans forward, resting his forearms on his thighs, you flinch.

'Where's the mermaid?' you ask.

You watch his eyes scan the area surrounding you.

The fabric of his black mask moves as he sucks in a breath, 'can't say,' he confesses, 'confidential; unsure if anyone is listening out to try an' find her. If word gets out where she is, she'd be dead by tonight- if not sooner,' he explains.

'Why do they want her dead? Has she done something to you?'

You want to scream.

The man beside you is short with his responses, speaking of her as though he understands the whole picture, when in reality, their confinement of her is a crime punishable by death.

'She said somethin' she should've have,' he answers simply.

His words drag against his throat as he speaks to you.

'Oh,' you muster, resting your back against the wall behind you.

'Where were you goin'?' he asks.

You raise an eyebrow in his direction, tilting your head as you attempt to process what exactly he means by his statement.

'You said you were on a boat and you were rescued by one of the sirens,' he reminds you, your face flushing with colour as you realise you have already forgotten the tale you were twisting.

'I was with my sister,' you say, 'the memory is quite fuzzy,' you confess, knowing your knowledge of the surrounding land is limited to a map of the sea, not what is beyond it. 'It was for one of her trips, she was travelling to see her husband and then the storm hit.'

'The sea isn't too fond of forgiveness,' he remarks.

'Neither is the land,' you say, falling back into the security of the covers over you, allowing your back to slip from off of the wall, lying down.

Pushing himself up, he looks down at you, mustering a small hug as you sleeping exhale.

All the emotion and crying has your eyes drooping, disregarding your conversation. The man doesn't judge you for that, however, as you watch him looking over you with gentle eyes behind the mask.

'Get some sleep,' he says.

You expect him to say more to that, yet, instead, he pulls his chair from beside you, moving to it back to the corner he was sitting in before.

You keep your eyes on his broad back, watching as he sits down, kicking his feet up on to the desk, keeping his eyes out of the window.

Your eyes stay there as you drift off to sleep.

＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚ ☾ ˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

When the door eventually bursts open, he's quick to send his eyes in the direction of Gaz as he walks through it with a bundle of garments. His mouth is open as he goes to speak, only to quickly shut his mouth when he is eyes falls to you, sleeping in the cot.

Holding the handle of the door, he pushes it shut so the lock clicks as quietly as possible, even going as far as to wince while doing so.

'I managed to find some clothes for her,' he says, 'not sure if I'm going to be a single man when she gets home, but I'll cross that bridge when I come to it.'

Setting the clothes down on the desk, Ghost stands up, picking the green cotton frock up from off of the table holding it out.

'I've never seen her in it,' Kyle says, 'don't even think she remembers having the thing, so she can't be upset about it if she completely forgot it existed, right?'

'Affirmative,' Ghost responds, 'wouldn't be too sure about it, though. She has an eye for the strangest things,' he warns, to which he laughs.

'You're right with that,' he says, 'I saw the Captain while I was out, he was comin' back from checking on the siren, told me to ask you if you're alright taking the girl in until she can remember what day it is; we can't leave her alone.'

He feels his chest tighten as he looks to you, seeing you peaceful sleep as you turn under the covers, your bare arm over your covered torso. 'You're the only one without someone... not too sure how—'

'I'll do it,' he says keeping his eyes trained on you.

Kyle looks at him with wide eyes.

'Well, she has no money does she? Not like an inn keeper is gonna give up a room for her, and I don't want to pay out of pocket to house her when she can just stay at my place.'

The man in front of him grins brightly.

'She'll hardly be any trouble, I'm sure of it,' he reassures, leaning against the desk, 'did she say anything else to you after I left?'

'She was with her sister on a ship heading somewhere to meet her sisters husband and that's then a storm hit and the ship was swallowed by the sea,' he says, 'she didn't say much, too out of it to really make much sense of the world around her.'

'Poor thing,' Gaz sighs, looking at Ghost, 'be nice to her, hey?'

'Wasn't planning on bein' cruel to her.'

'Good, good,' Kyle nods, 'Price told me to tell you that y' can have the rest of the day off if you get her out of the station, by the way. Take her home, get her something proper to eat and see if she wants to talk about it- he's sending something out to other villages to see if they have anyone who fits her description.'

'Doubt there'll be any news back for a while,' he says, approaching you, 'they don't care much for their own.'

His hand rests upon your shoulder and you grunt.

'I'll leave you to it,' Gaz calls from behind Ghost, 'gonna go and try and catch up with Johnny on patrols, doubt my lady would be too pleased with seein' another girl naked,' he chuckles, heading towards the door.

Waiting until the door is closed, Ghost proceeds to crouch down in front of you, rough hand nudging you again.

Your eyes crack open, a startled gasp escaping as you're greeted with the sight of his bone mask right in front of your face.

He feels you tense in his hands.

'Didn't mean to scare you,' he says, 'got you some clothes to keep people from starin' at you love, and then you're coming back to my place,' he explains.

His voice is softer than the tone he held with you prior and you swallow hard.

'Your place,' you croak, your face burning red from the sudden scare from your sleep.

'Yeah; until you're back on your feet and until that head of yours start workin' you're gonna have to stay here,' he explains, 'Price has sent messages out to local villages, see if any family members pick it up.'

Your face falters.

You're going to be here a while.

'Gaz got you some clothes,' he says, motioning over to the table.

Pushing yourself up, you manage to move your legs so your feet are planted against the floor. Ghost averts his eyes away from you, turning away. Sinking your teeth into your bottom lip, you look at the ground at your feet.

Surely it's not that difficult.

Pushing your self up off of the bed, you take a short breath, your legs wobbling as you land back onto the bed.

Despite being gifted the ability of legs, you find it quite pointless that you cannot use them. The water is much easier to navigate than the land is, that much you're sure of.

Looking up at the man in front of you, you let out a small breath.

'Can you help me?' you ask.

He doesn't bother saying anything to you, simply walking over to the table with the dress on it, it's an ugly green colour and you catch yourself grimacing at the fabric. Though, as soon as his eyes are on you, the sneer on your face fades away.

He's rough in the way he pulls the dress over your head, though you manage to get your arms through the sleeves with ease. It's an odd feeling, feeling the fabric against your skin, the elastic cuffs of the sleeves clinging to your arms.

Helping you to your feet, you stagger forward, your face growing red as you grab his arms for some form of support. Yet, he doesn't move, he doesn't even flinch, busying himself with pulling the skirt down, it stopping mid-thigh.

Your legs tremble as you wince, you grip growing tighter on him as you fight to stay on your feet.

'Guess I haven't quite found my footing after the accident,' you awkwardly laugh, wishing to be relieved of this torture.

Your face is beat red as you continue to curse the moon for putting you in such a position, cursing the your words during that night.

Leading you back down onto the bed, you're quick to let go of his arms as he looks at you. He knows you're not going to be able to walk to his house, and he fights off the urge to huff.

There's something so simple yet so difficult about the task... he's a fucking lieutenant in the village guard and he's been put on babysitting duties.

Be nice to her, hey?

Kyle's voice is like a dagger through his skull, and even though you can't see his face under the mask, he musters up a tight-lipped smile, swallowing all his pride for himself and his position.

'I'll carry you.'

Neither of you are happy about this, though a tight-lipped smile of your own appears on your face.

'Great... thanks.'

＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚ ☾ ˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

His home is humble, quaint, tucked away in a quiet pocket of town.

Pushing open the door, he tilts his head towards the entrance of the house. With uneasy feet, you wobble as you take a step up into his house, his hand grabbing your forearm when you nearly loose balance.

During the course of your travels, you had fought against him, insisting after catching people staring at you for him to put you down and let you walk freely.

At first, he doesn't listen, keeping his eyes trained on the path in front of him, though, fortunately, he relented after you started to squirm in his arms.

It was difficult at first, but you got the hang of it... as long as his arm was around your waist.

It finds its way back around your waist for a short moment as he helps you up the steps.

'Careful,' he utters.

'Thanks,' you respond, holding the sides of the doorframes as you walk into the living room.

It's a quaint and simple little space, although, your cove is much better than this place. Yet, you suppose you cannot be picky while undercover, his hospitality rendering you speechless.

The mystery of the red moon and her tide is still very much fresh and new, you know you must not do something to compromise your safety or your chances of finding Serelia.

Even if it is resulting in you finding shelter in a man with a skull masks home.

Pulling his hood from off of his head head, he shrugged his cloak from off of his shoulders, hanging it up on a wooden stand placed beside the door.

You stand and watch, your arms pressed to your side, still trying to understand how exactly humans manage to stand so straight on their legs.

He turns to look at you, you see his eyes shift under his mask, 'it's not much, and you're going to have to be okay with sleeping on the couch.'

'Much more than what I have right now,' you respond with a soft smile on your face.

'Thank you, Ghost,' you say

'Of course,' he says with a short nod, 'you can help yourself to whatever you want, all I ask from you is to keep out of my room.'

'I can do that,' you reassure, nodding your head.

He doubts you'll even be able to climb the stairs as he can only liken the way you're walking to that of a baby deer learning how to walk for the first time.

He can't complain however; it's entertaining to watch you, and he does so as you make your way over to your new bed, holding your arms out either side to balance yourself before toppling onto the couch with a large exhale.

Sometimes his limited compassion still manages to get him into terrible situations, and as he looks at you, he can't help but worry about what he has gotten himself in for.

＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚ ☾ ˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

After spending some necessary time in his home, you eventually find your feet... both literally and figuratively.

It's difficult for you to stay confined to the four walls of his house, granted, you don't really do much and find joy during your first day there reading through an old shabby collection of books on his shelf.

There's nothing interesting, and you're unsure as to whether or not he himself has read any of them as when you open one, you sneeze from the amount of dust covering it.

It's a fun past time you find, especially during the few attempts of being more steady on your feet. The moon must have heard your complaints as, during the second day, you're nearly unstoppable, aside from the burning in your calves each time you take a step forward.

By the third day, you're almost sprinting out of the house into the village.

It's difficult to adjust to first.

The land is unknown to you, yet, you don't threat.

Instead, you search the village high and low, walking into every store, listening to every conversation of the locals in the village. You feel your skin crawl whenever you hear their laughter, though, it's as though talk of the siren has disappeared completely.

From spending time reading in the library to simply perusing the streets, you're wounded by the lack of information.

Why isn't anyone talking about her? Surely they know where she is; humans hate us and they'll want us gone for the issues we've caused.

The question follows you for a while, only stopping when you see the door open during your fifth night of staying inside Ghost's home.

He appears tired and as his hand moves to his cloak, he quickly stops himself from pulling it down when he sees you in front of him.

It's an odd thing, you've observed him over the past few days, and not once has he shown his face.

Still, you don't care for his habits as you open your mouth over dinner after swallowing a mouthful of food. Your hands is grabbing for the water next to your plate as you state, 'how come no one in town is mentioning the siren anymore?'

He looks at you, chewing under his mask which he holds up after each bite. 'Price has made it a rule,' he states, 'Lords out of town right now on business, until he comes back, we have to hold her per his request,' he explains, 'we've gotta keep her safe and if anyone is heard discussin' her, he's treating it as though it's treason.'

You offer a short nod, going back to eating your food.

'Why?' he eventually asks.

'I just thought, with something as big as this discovery, it would be the talk of the town for years,' you say, 'I thought it was strange, that's all.'

The look he gives you makes you think that he doesn't quite believe what you're saying to him, though, he doesn't press on the matter, going back to eating his dinner.

It's strange to spend time with a human, especially living with them.

He doesn't speak much, only really talking to you at dinner time or greeting you after returning from his shifts around the village to make sure everything is in check.

'You can take the mask off, you know,' you say, observing his discomfort, 'your identity doesn't make a difference to me, besides... this is your home,' you say softy.

Truthfully, the mask is just as much as an annoyance to him as it is to you.

Surprisingly, he listens to your words, pulling the mask tied around the back of his head off of his face allowing you to see his mouth.

Really, he does even know why he committed so long to wearing the stupid thing, growing especially frustrated as dinner grew to be more of a chore than something of enjoyment.

Old habits die hard, he supposes, and the habit of wearing around you died that night thanks to your comment.

While eating, he attempts to ignore your eyes on him, though he is far too aware that you're staring at him, not missing the way your cheeks have a light tinge of red to them.

Grinning to himself, he shakes his head at a crude thought that suddenly pops into his mind, narrowing his eyes as he lifts his head to look at you.

You drop your head immediately, focusing much more on your food than on him, though your embarrassment is difficult to miss.

＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚ ☾ ˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

Simon seems warmer to you after you've been at his house for a little longer. The longer time passes by, the more trips you're taking to the ocean.

It started with one in the early morning, although, you find yourself walking there at the beginning of every day all to talk to the waves, hoping you'll see the familiar face of one of your sisters in the water. Yet, you don't.

Part of you is happy with this fact, not wanting them to see you in such a state wearing the ugly green frock, the only thing you own aside from a pair of sandals which Ghost brought with him upon returning from a shift.

On occasion, you bump into one of the men you saw when you first stop at the station. You learn that MacTavish's name is actually Johnny, and Gaz, the man who found you on the beach, is named Kyle.

They stop to talk to you for a while, sometimes walking with you to the beach where they speak with you.

Nothing interesting really comes from the conversations until, a month into your stay in the village, Johnny blabbers a little too much.

'He enjoys your company, bonnie,' he confesses after complimenting your new pink dress Simon bought you, 'was telling me that he's enjoying giving you little gifts and having you with him for dinner. I'm tellin' you, he like you more than you think.'

'How can he like me when I don't do anything but steal his food and sleep on his couch?'

'Couldn't tell ya, lass, strange man is our Simon.'

You hold your breath.

'Simon?' you ask slowly, a smile creeping on your face.

He slaps a hand over his mouth, his face growing red.

'His names Simon?' you ask, craning your neck forward to look at the blushing mans face.

'Forget I said anything,' he demands, rubbing his face with his hand. 'Please,' he almost begs. 'What I mean to say, lass, is that he does like you, and if you haven't thought of doing something for him, maybe consider it.'

His words follow you into the nighttime as you're helping Simon cook.

It's been something you've been doing for a while, intrigue taking you down the strangest path.

'My mum used to make this soup,' he explains, 'the recipe for it is somewhere, I don't know where it's gone though. It was great for nights like there.'

You hear a bell chime in your ears, thinking back to Johnny's words. Simon doesn't miss the smile on your face.

'What? What did I say?'

'Nothing, Sim-'

You freeze.

The pair of you stare at each other.

'Ghost, I mean Ghost!' you exclaim, holding your hands up, realising that you have most definitely gotten poor Johnny in a hell of a lot of trouble.

'Johnny told you didn't he?'

'He slipped up while he was talking to me today, he didn't mean it and I'm sorry if-'

'Say my name,' he cuts you off quickly and your eyebrows furrow.

'Simon?'

He grins to himself, turning his head away acting as though you have just done him the greatest act of service. 'I like how it sounds when you say it,' he says, going back to chopping up the vegetables, 'much better than Ghost.'

Redness spreads to your cheeks as you admire the look of joy on his face, finding that you want to do that more in order to see that look on his face.

So, as you're eating dinner that night, and even when you're lying on the sofa, you scheme like a criminal.

You toss and turn before you eventually get up and begin your search. Holding a lit candle, your eyes scan through his shelves looking high and low.

You spend what must be hours flicking through books, moving things, looking under the sofa, attempting to squint your eyes to look through floorboard before you find it tucked between the countertop and stove in the kitchen.

Only then can you rest easy, your eyes closing as you think about the mission you have got to complete tomorrow.

＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚ ☾ ˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

Walking through the bustling village main street, you listen to the bright tunes of the surrounding marketplaces, small stalls on either corner of the street, pushing everyone on the main road closer together.

You brush shoulders with a few people, keeping your arms out in front of you as you walk with a basket in front of you, the gold coins Simon has given you per your request rattling in your other hand.

It's rare you're outside as you spend most of your times in the library or back at Simon's home. Though nothing is going to stop you from making Simon the soup he mentioned last night.

Your heart flutters at the thought of how much he has done for you, and as a form of a thank you, you're going through the crumpled up recipe you stole from out of his kitchen, going to different stalls to get the things you need for the recipe.

The trip renders you exhausted, and by the time you're back at his house, you're fighting against sleep as you chop up the vegetable, putting them into the pot. You're unsure if you're doing it right, although, the longer you leave it to simmer, the more it takes the shape of something edible... you suppose.

You keep it on the stove until you hear the door open, and whether or not it tastes good, you're fine enough with the delightful smell that is exuding from the pot on the stove, looking in the direction of the door as it opens and Simon steps into the room.

'You're back,' you cheer, dropping the wooden spoon in the pot, approaching him.

The door shuts and he pulls his takes his hat from off of his head, pulling off his mask.

A crooked smile greets your eyes.

'What's all this?' he asks, his arms resting on your shoulders. It's common now, him touching you, and you sink into his hold on you with a sigh.

'Well, I thought you'd appreciate me making dinner for you,' you say sweetly, grabbing his hands, pulling him through into the kitchen, motioning to the table set. 'Also, you mentioned the old recipe your mum used to make for you, so, I thought I'd try my hand at it, see if I'm a good cook or not.'

He lets out a small ‘hm' as he grabs two bowls from out of the cupboards, placing them down on the countertop beside the stove. His hand hand is touching the small of your back as he grabs hold of the wooden spoon you left in the pot, tugging down the black mask covering his nose and mouth.

You watch, holding your breath as you await his reaction.

'Is it terrible?' you quietly as, looking on his face for any form of reaction, yet, he's unmoved. 'We can get something else to eat if it's really terrible,' you offer, pushing down the cuticles on your nails as you keep your eyes on him.

Setting the spoon back into the pot, he exhales. 'Needs a tad bit more salt, sweetheart,' he gently says, 'but considering this is your first time making it, I think you've done a pretty good job, hey?'

You can't stop yourself from smiling at his gentle words, feeling the warmth of his large hand pressing against your back as he reaches beside the stove, grabbing a salt shaker. 'A little more practice and I think I'm going to have my own personal chef,' he comments, adding some more salt into the soup.

Grabbing the spoon, you stir the mixture, scooping up another spoonful, holding it out to him with your hand underneath it, 'how's it now?'

His eyes are on you as he places his mouth against the spoon.

'Much better,' he says with a smile, 'go sit down, I'll do this.'

'Are you sure?' you ask, feeling him move his hand from off of your back. He gives you a short nod.

'Don't want you to burn yourself, go sit down.'

Over dinner, you share brief words, but it is in the silence and the company of him that you find you're most at peace.

There's nothing from either of you, and you take time to eat the soup you have been working on all day. It's okay, a little on the watery side, and you do think that Simon is still definitely a much better cook that you.

He thinks the soup tastes a tad funny, but he doesn't say it to you.

Such thoughts leave the pair of you to sit together, silently thinking about each other, yet not having the heart to disrupt the peaceful silence.

After dinner, you attempt to help him clean up, only, he refuses your help, requesting you stay in the living room.

'Simon you always do stuff for me,' you whine with a huff, 'let me help you- washing a dish isn't gonna kill me, y'know?

'I have a surprise for you and you're not going to get it if you keep going against what I've asked of you,' he warns, 'be a good girl for me, yeah? Go sit down, I'll be right through and you can have your gift.'

Suddenly, it's like your legs don't work anymore.

Knees almost buckling at his words, you gulp hard, managing out a short breath as you nod your head, not saying another word to him as you approach the living room, taking a seat on the plush sofa, sinking into one of the many black cushions.

Pressing your face into your cupped hands, you fight off the urge to scream at the very fact he only has to speak to you and you melt like butter in a pan.

Death would be easier than this.

Eventually, he reappears holding a box in his hands. Setting it down on your lap, you smile at the sight of a white ribbon tied into a bow. It's a charming sight, and you fight off the urge to rest your head on his shoulder as he sits next to you.

'You didn't have to,' you whisper.

'Well, you don't have many dresses, sweetheart,' he comments, 'my mum would have my head if she found out you only had two dresses,' he said with a short chuckle, his eyes narrowing as he sighs, 'I saw it the other day, been trying think of a good time to give it to you.'

Carefully, you untie the ribbon, pulling the top of the box off, setting it aside.

Peering up at you is a white cotton frock. Small flowers stitched into the open neck of the dress.

Pulling it out, you hold it out in front of you, letting out a squeal as you see the fabric touching all the way to the ground.

You jump into his lap, pressing a firm kiss onto his cheek.

'I love it!' you exclaim, holding the dress to your chest, before quickly pushing yourself off of him, shrugging off the sleeves of the green frock you've had since arriving in the village. 'I don't even wanna wait to try it,' you say brightly.

He watches amused as the fabric falls from off of your body, pooling around your feet. You're unapologetic of your appearance, tits on full show without a single care in the world.

Pulling the white dress over your head, you wiggle your hips as it hugs your waist, covering your legs.

He watches you, his hands on his thighs as you clumsily spin around in a circle, your skirt raising as you do so. 'What do you think?' you ask, 'does it look nice?'

He exhales deeply.

'Was made for you, sweetheart,' he replies with a bright grin on his face, 'gimme another spin.'

Your cheeks flush red, though you comply, your heart swelling at the request.

＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚ ☾ ˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

In the midst of the night is where you roam free, walking through the streets of the village, treading down to the shore all to sit by the water. You watch as the waves roll in with a joyous glint in your eye, knowing home is right at your fingertips.

But oddly, you find home is also on land in the form of your sister and the tall man with a strange mask.

The very thought of him makes you feel nauseous, the thought of him washing all your sentence just as the waves do the shore.

Dinner tonight was almost too much for you to handle, to have someone so close to you, to feel his hand on your back and to hear the humans terms of affection leave his mouth with the intent of the meeting your ears... everything.

You blame the dress you're wearing too.

You feel like you're betraying the words of your dear mother.

She has warned you time and time again of the dangers of the human folk, and here you are, wearing their legs, missing your tail and your vibrant scales, yet, prepared to throw it all away all to hear him utter your name and call you sweetheart just one more time.

All that for a human who doesn't even know the truth of who you are.

'I thought you were here,' you hear a voice call from behind you, almost submerged in the crashing waves.

Turning your head, you see Simon approaching you, his boots leaving prints in the sand.

Stopping beside you, you turn your head as he sits beside you. 'Why 'ave you come all the way out here at this time?'

'Needed some fresh air,' you mumble, resting your chin against your knees, hugging your legs.

'You'll find her again,' he says.

Your blood runs cold.

'Sure that siren saved her just as she saved you, yeah? You'll be with her again some day soon, and who knows, maybe she's become one of them herself.'

'She'd like that,' you whisper, looking at the tide.

I'd like that too.

'Until you know where she is or receive a letter from home, you're stuck with me,' he says, 'sorry.'

You laugh.

'You've been the thing to keep me sane through all this, Si',' you reassure, 'without you I would've lost my mind. I need you, and what you've done for me means more than anything any else has ever done for me.'

'Thank you,' he speaks with his chest, you can hear the smile on his face as he speaks. 'I've enjoyed the company, it's nice to have someone to come home to, makes a change from the constant silence, gets me down sometimes.'

You will die before he is ever alone again, you're convinced.

Letting go of your legs, you pull away from the shore, moving towards him.

The light of the moon bouncing off of the water illuminates his features deliciously and you can't help but think of how he would look beneath the water where the pair of you could live out your days together.

Placing his hand on your knee, you rest your head against his firm shoulder, letting out a small breath as you look out onto the sea.

'Do you want to go back home to your village?' he asks.

'I don't have attachments to places, only people,' you respond, 'doesn't matter where I am as long as I have the people I care about with me- and if they wish to go somewhere else, then I'll will let them to do so.'

'So, when your sister finds you, you're gonna go back home?' he quietly asks, looking at the calm water.

'I don't know,' you say, 'so used to having you with me, and she's found her love now, she doesn't need me anymore. If she even is still alive that is.'

Leaning into the narrative is bruising, and in his silence you sit and think about whether or not you would return to the sea once you finally know that Serelia is safe.

These are the people who have hurt her, the man beside you is keeping her from you, yet, there you are in his arms, seeking comfort in the idea of living out the rest of your life at his side.

Really, you should want to put the entirety of the village under water.

'I want you to stay,' he quietly confesses, 'too used to y' now,' don't think I could go back to normal if you left.'

The feeling of nausea hits you again.

'I wouldn't know what to do with myself,' you say, feeling his grip on your knee tighten.

He holds his breath and you turn to look at him. Half lidded eyes stare back at you, and you find your hand reaching out to slip beneath the mask of the skull on his face, hooking your fingers beneath the fabric of the mask.

'Can I?'

He looks at you, though says nothing.

As you pull your hand away from his face, he pulls the hood down off of his head, undoing the tie around the skull mask on his face, allowing it to fall onto his lap.

Pulling the mask down, allowing it to pool around his neck, he looks you in the eyes. You stare back, settling your hand against his cheek. As you listen to the calmness of the water and under the watching eyes of the moon, you have little issue in leaning in closer.

His hand finds the back of your head as your lips ghost each others and you can feel hit hot breath fanning against your mouth.

'Am I gonna regret this?' you asks.

'You might,' he replies, 'but I won't judge you for it if y' do.'

Your breaths mingle as your lips finally meet, a soft and hesitant connection which sends shivers down your spine. Its delicate, the feeling of his mouth against yours as he holds you as though you're seconds away from turning to ash, leaving him forever.

And while your lips were against his, the thought of doing such doesn't cross your mind.

Not even once.

Upon returning to his house, you walk past the couch you have been lying on, his hand on the small of your back pulling you past, guiding you up the stairs to his bedroom.

Nothing like what you have read happens, instead, he helps you out of your dress, leaving you in your panties. You ask for nothing from him as you climb into his bed as he undresses.

It's intimate, the feeling of his hot flesh against yours setting a light afire in your stomach as you curl into his side, just as you curled into your cove hidden within the depths of the sea.

＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚ ☾ ˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

Days progress and your search for Serelia quells as you keep an open ear on the talks of the city folk.

You could have ended all of this a lot sooner with a song, louring all of them into the water to give you an ample opportunity, but you haven't.

Some other time you would have, though, you've heard your voice while humming a song as you clean your flesh in the mornings, and it's devoid of the deepness to travel as far as it did while sitting upon the rocks on the sea.

She is still alive and well wherever she is, and you're quite sure she has been moved around quite a bit as a safety precaution, and with Price's willingness to keep her from the wrath of the village folk, you know that at least some of the men in the village are good.

The more days roll on, the softer the touches from Simon grow, and as you're sitting in the village library again, holding a book in your lap, your fingers trace over the words written, leaving your words caught in your throat.

Reading has been the one thing to keep you from the curse of whatever has happened to you, and you find the stories written by humans to be quite amusing.

Perilous speculation at it's finest! Your favourite.

Though, you find it's difficult to breathe as you progress further and further through the books in the library until you were greeted with one covered in dust.

The lady didn't see you pull it off of the shelf when you did, and as the sky grows orange before eventually fading to darkness, you're unaware of the change in workers as you press your thighs together, hot breath fanning against the pages of the book.

Only, it's not the story that has you blushing.

Rather, your own thoughts as you replace the characters in your head, seeing the same set of eyes that have been greeting you for the past week while waking up.

It's wrong and it's dirty, but you can't help but think of him.

Perhaps this is simply how humans show affection, and it's not like you haven't been close to doing it; your bare breasts have been pushed against his chest when the pair of you wake in the dawn, and neither of you have moved an inch during the closeness, relishing in the closeness.

'I've got work, love.'

'I don't care, too comfy for you to leave me.'

Your mouth grows dry as you contemplate whether or not he has thought of you in a similar manner, if the thoughts carry onwards to his mind from your own, or if he sees you in a different manner.

A voice calls out your name, the flame of the candle on the table beside you causing you to jump, and as you look up, you're quick to slam the book shut, clearing your throat as you tightly smile at the man standing in front of you.

'Scared me,' he says to you, 'I thought you were home.'

'I got bored,' you shakily say, gripping the book in your hand tightly, holding it as you push your chair in, 'I got caught up reading.'

Even though you try to keep the book out of his view, you find he doesn't care about the stupid collection of pages, his eyes dragging down your body as though they're scanning for any source of possible harm.

'I'm fine, Si',' you whisper.

He nods shortly, 'c'mon, it's late and you need to eat,' he says, stepping to the side, allowing you past.

Keeping hold of the book, you walk along side the man and out of the library.

'You didn't have to drag me out, y'know?' you ask, walking alongside him.

His eyes fall on you, you know it without even looking at him, your eyes scanning over the words in the book, 'could've left me in the library to live with the books, let the pots of colours ink stain my skin and cover me up. Wouldn't have bothered you every again.'

The book is ripped from your hands, slamming shut as the man standing beside you takes it off of you.

'Strange woman,' he remarks, keeping the book in his right hand as you proceed to walk through the town.

Your frustration is obvious but he clearly doesn't care, you see the way his face settles beneath the mask.

'Strange man,' you remark, 'walking around the village with a skull mask on, especially in the dark.'

He only grunts in response to your words, pulling your book in front of him, looking at the title with a raised brow. 'Saccharine?'

He looks at you with a look telling that he knows what's beyond the pages, the possibility of such making your cheeks flare red as he flicks through the pages.

'What's it about?'

'Uhm,' you look at him with weary eyes, 'it's an... adventure.'

He nods his head.

'An adventure,' he says, eyes scrolling down the page he lands on, reading aloud, ''use that pretty mouth of yours for me, sweetheart, tell me what y' want,' he grunts, watching her squirm below him.''

Your face is bright red.

'Something fuckin' adventure that is, huh?' he barks out a laugh, as you elbow him in the side, snatching the book out of his hands. 'You dirty thing reading that out in public,' he mocks, your throat growing dry as you look at him.

'Shut up,' you grumble, slamming the book shut.

His laughter doesn't cease as you head towards his home, 'maybe I should have left you in the library by yourself.'

You wish for the ground to swallow you whole, longing for the cold ocean to reach right into the village and pluck you right from his side, placing you right back into the ocean.

Grabbing his key from out of his pocket, he heads up the steps to his house. You don't miss the glance he gives you.

'Who says I can't sort it out here?' you ask.

The keys fall from out of his hand.

Reaching down, you snag them before he can even muster the strength to breathe after the comment you've just made.

'You'd have an audience,' he says, grabbing your waist as you put his key into the door, turning it.

'I don't care,' you whisper, placing your hand against his cheek, 'especially if it's you.'

You don't quite process what happens until his lips are pressed against yours, the pair of you clumsily stumbling into his house, a giggle escaping you as he keeps you pressed against him.

The next couple of minutes are lost to clumsy steps, giggles and kisses as the pair of you waste no time rushing towards his bedroom.

Somewhere along the line, your dress is discarded, as is his shirt, all for it to be put on you as you sit in his lap clumsily doing up the buttons as the cuffs fall past your hands.

It's an alien feeling, the feeling on someone's lips against yours despite all the chaste kisses you have shared during sleepy mornings, and as he grabs you with greedy hands, you feel yourself melting into his hold, pressing your chest against his as you stifle out a short sound in delight.

You're unsure what exactly the sound was as it's muffled by your lips pressing against one another's, your hands clutching at his shoulders as his hand holds the small of your waist.

You feel the little muscle in your chest flutter as he tilts your head slightly with his other hand, deepening the kiss.

Keeping your eyes close, you feel as though you are one with the tide of the ocean, your limbs become that of liquid, flowing with whatever he wills as you fall apart in his arms.

Your firm grasp against his shoulders melts away as you loosely wrap your arms around his neck, your chest growing tighter as it grows harder to find gasps to take a breath from the kiss.

Placing another kiss against your plush lips, he pulls away, placing his hand against your cheek, rubbing the pad of his thumb against your cheekbone, letting out a gentle sigh as he looks at you.

Such gentleness is unheard of, no man should be so kind, yet, here he is, holding you as though you're the most fragile seashell on the seashore, intending to hold you close to keep you as a memory.

There's an odd heat flooding your stomach when he pulls away, a pulsing in the area you're somewhat familiar with. It's a dull ache, a bruising urge and you began to squirm in his lap in an attempt to chase the feeling away.

The feeling of his pants against you brings a satisfying wave over your body, willing to continue squirming in his lap in the hopes to find some form of quick fix. A breathy whimper escapes you as you continue to grind hopelessly in his lap, chasing after the release you so crave.

Only, your his are grabbed by his hands, as he holds you in place, grunting.

'Hurts,' you grumble, your hands falling to grab his wrists in an attempt to pull them away. Yet, his hold on you persists, keeping you firmly in place.

'Please,' it escapes your lips before you even understand what it is that you're begging for, though there's something that you can only describe as longing to extinguish the fiery blaze in the pit of your stomach.

You continue to fight against his hold on your hips, you lips pressing together in an unhappy manner.

There's a glint you spy as desire in his eyes, though, much to your displeasure, he keeps himself from acting on whatever that particular desire is, leaving you teary eyed in his lap.

'Sweetheart,' Simon breathes, shaking his head, 'hey, hey, it's alright, what are you getting teary eyed f'r? Haven't hurt you, have I?' he asks as your try to blink back the tears forming in your eyes. You're frustrated, unable to tell him what exactly you want because, truthfully, you've only read about such in the books in the library during the times he was busy with work.

All of it is new, and you wish for the blessing of experience you wash over you as you look at him with a lingering frustration.

'No,' you say, 'it's not that, it's that I...' you're unsure what to say, so, you let go of his wrist, lifting your hips as you look him in the eyes, placing a hand against your core.

He looks at you with a crooked smile when he finally catches onto what exactly it is, and all you can muster, in pathetic whisper is, 'need you.'

Sinking your teeth into your bottom lip, you're relieved when one of his hands is pulled from off of your hip as he gently moves his hand against you, cupping your cunt, pressing his thumb up in a particular spot.

You let out a whimper at the strange, yet welcome sensation, noting how his hand is far better than your own.

There should be something shameful about this, only you push into his hold, hoping he returns your enthusiasm.

It's in his arms you feel the most safe you have ever felt, even the tide of the ocean cannot compare to him in this moment as he pulls you loser, looking upon you with moons for eyes, conveying the idea that, maybe, he does think you're the prettiest thing he has ever set his eyes on.

Your back is pressed against the bed, the absence of his touch like a dagger through your heart. He looms over you, arms either side of your head. The lack of light, the flickering flame of the candle and the beams of light from moon shooting through the window render you speechless as you look at him.

'My pretty girl,' he utters underneath his breath, his hand brushing under the cotton shirt, moving further up your skin. Goosebumps form on your flesh as he does so, cheeks red the longer he keeps his eyes on you. 'Made with wind an' sea, you are,' he says, brushing his hand down your stomach, resting it against your pubic bone as he looks you. 'Tell me what you want, sweetheart.'

Opening your legs for him, you muster up a small whimper, looking him in the eyes, 'want you to touch me,' you quietly say, 'please, Si', need you to make me feel better,' you beg, feeling as though you're seconds away from collapsing.

A breath escapes you as he pushes your panties to the side, trailing his fingers up and down your folds with a groan.

There's a distinctive wet noise as he does so, spreading your cunt open with two fingers. Looking down between the valley between your breasts, you swallow hard at the sight of him touching you, jolting when his fingers brush against your clit.

It's unlike anything you've ever experienced.

Continuing in a fluid motion, your back arches as pretty moans escape your mouth, writhing beneath him. The heat in your stomach only grows as he does so.

'That's it, sweetheart,' he utters, sliding his fingers downwards, pressing one digit against your hole. 'Gonna be good for me an' take my fingers?' he asks, to which you eagerly nod your head.

'Y- Yes, please,' you respond, your back arching against the bed as he pushes a finger into you.

An odd stinging sensation causes a tear to slip past your eye as you fist the sheets below you, letting out a small sob. He pauses, you catch the orange light from the candle in his eyes as his mouth falls.

Then, you begin to feel him pull away.

'No,' you quickly exclaim, 'no, no, don't pull away, it's just...' you sink your teeth into your bottom lip, 'I've never done this before.'

He looks at you with wild eyes as he expression softens. Leaning forward, he places his lips against your and you cup his face with both of your hands, your mouth falling open as he begins to thrust his finger in and out of you.

Pressing his forehead against yours, he sighs, 'I didn't know, love,' he confesses under his breath, 'I shouldn't have made assumptions—'

'It's not your fault, Si', you didn't know,' you reassures, 'but I don't want you to stop,' you say, toes curling as his finger presses against a spot which almost has you seeing colour.

The air in the room is hot, only growing when you see a crooked smirk on his face as a crude squelch sounds.

You feel another finger against you.

'Gonna make sure your pretty cunt is taken care of,' he says, 'won't want anyone else after you've had me,' he utters, pushing another finger into you.

It burns for a moment, the stretch aching, yet working to contribute to the cord tightening in your stomach.

You're unsure as to what to expect as a delicious heat envelopes yous body, clumsy hands letting go of his face, moving to his shoulders. More tears slip down your cheeks, a loud moan escaping you as both his finger brush against a spot which has you falling apart in his hold.

You expect him to relent, though, he positions his fingers to proceed to hit that spot. By now you're a babbling mess under him, all the while he's grinning at the pretty mess you're becoming, soaking his fingers as you edge closer and closer to the edge.

You're not going to last much longer, he knows such as you clench around his fingers, his cock hardening at the very thought of having that pretty pussy around him.

There's a panic in your eyes as you edge closer to the edge, so he presses a chaste kiss against your lips, 'you're okay, princess,' you gently says, let go, cum for me, cum around my fingers, let me see how pretty you look,' he says, cautious not to make a demand as he continues to work his fingers into you, stretching you out.

Your chest heaves as you screw your eyes shut, your muscles tensing as you find yourself bracing for the coil in your stomach to snap.

It's odd to be scared of something that is making you feel so good, and you relax realising you're in his arms.

Your thighs begin to tremble as you let out small moans, drool trailing down your chin as you press your head back into his pillow, the heat in your stomach dispersing, crashing down into a pleasurable wave which has you almost sobbing.

Your hole clenches around Simon's finger, your entire body turning stiff as you stifle out a crude gasp, your orgasm washing over you. You watches as you completely fall apart, your juices flooding his fingers as you cum. 'That's it, you're okay,' he breathes, 'I got you, you're okay,' he reassures, his fingers fucking you through your orgasm.

Your raging breath steadily quells as he pulls his fingers out of you, sitting back on his thighs. Your hair is sticking your back as sweat soaks into the shirt you're working.

Whimpering, you watch as he presses the two digits he used to fuck you between his mouth, cleaning the mess you made of his hands with his tongue, letting out a short moan as he pulls his fingers out of his mouth, 'as sweet as honey,' he remarks, taking a moment to admire your glistening cunt.

Instinctively, you close your legs, all for him to tut, placing his hands on your knees, pulling them open again.

'Prettiest cunt I've ever seen sweetheart,' he say, 'don't try and keep it from me, yeah? You're not gonna be cumming around anyone else's cock aside from mine; gonna ruing you, shape that pretty hole for my cock and my cock only,' he gruffly speaks.

You hear the shift of fabric.

Pulling his underwear off, he tosses it somewhere into the room, sifting upwards, a crude wet slap filling the room as he slaps his cock against your clit.

You let out a small yelp as the sensation, your cunt still marked with sensitivity from your orgasm. Though, as you feel the blunt head of his leaking cock between your folds, you find the heat returns with a vengeance, leaving your mouth dry as he presses himself against your hole.

'It's gonna hurt for a second,' he warns, grabbing your hip with his hand, 'just keep breathing for me, let that pretty pussy stretch around me- I'll give y' all the time you need, just tell me,' he utters.

His tone is much darker than any you've ever heard, and as he begins to push himself into you, your mouth closes as you sink your teeth into your bottom lip so hard that you're quite sure you're going to draw blood.

A filthy moan escapes your lovers lips as he pushes into, the heat around his cock making it hard to keep a clear mind as the longing to fuck you until you're sobbing possesses him.

It won't take much, he knows that, counting on the fact that he's not even half way in and tears are already pouring down your cheeks.

Gripping your hips, he eases himself in to the hilt, moaning as you clench around his cock.

'Good fuckin' girl,' he curses, his nails digging into your skin as you wince. Never have you felt so full, feeling his cock pulsing in your core as you squirm beneath him.

Without even moving, you're sure he's pressing against that spot that brought you to your release just moments prior, you stomach twisting.

I'm not going to last.

Your legs merely wrap around his waist as he looks to you, and with a trembling mouth, you nod your head, 'y- you can move,' you say with a small nod, hissing as he pulls out, only to thrust back in.

Your skin is hot as sweat drips down your silky flesh, pushing downwards to meet his thrusts as he picks up the pace. The sound of you skin slapping together is vulgar, though neither of you care as you burble out weak 'ahs' under your breath as he drives his cock into you. Simon isn't quiet either, vocal grunts through gritted teeth as his bruising grip on you maintains a steady pace.

'Fuuuckkk,' he moans, grabbing the bottom of his shirt, ripping it open. You offer him as startled look as he drags his blunt nails up your stomach, grabbing your tits, rolling your nipple between his fingers. 'Prettiest fuckin' girl to ever walk the land,' he claims, 'made for me and my cock, and it's all mine, isn't it?'

'A- All yours,' you confirm, unable to keep a sane mind about you as he's fucking you dumb.

All your mind is sticking to is the thickness off his cock as it's hitting all the right spots. You're sure you're drooling from the sensation, your eyes falling back into your head as you babble out nonsense.

'No one else's,' you manage to get out before you're completely at his disposal, the feel of your next orgasm creeping up on you.

'You gonna cum for me again, princess?' Simon asks, greedily sucking in air as he looks at you, feeling your cunt clenching around him. He himself is edging closer to the edge, the tightness of you around his thick cock simply being too much to bear.

'Yes, 'm so close... so fucking close, please, please let me cum,' you dumbly beg, not able to keep the words from flowing past your lips.

'Go on, sweetheart, cum around my cock, make it yours,' he demands, his thrust growing much more sporadic as he chases after his own release.

A moan escapes your lips as you arch you back off of the bed, your entire body spasming as you allow yourself to fall into the pleasure of your orgasm as the cord in your stomach snaps, forcing a gasp out of you.

Squeezing your eyes shut, you let out a brittle sob, tightening around his cock as you cum. The sound of your skin connecting is wet as Simon fucks you through your orgasm, his curses and grunts filling your ears.

'Fuck, fuck, fuck, that's right sweetheart,' he moans, 'gonna make you mine, fill you up with my cum, no one else is having you, you're mine,' he grunts out, pressing into your, your cunt against his pubic bone as his hands tremble.

He lets out a moan as he fills you up.

It's a filthy feeling, but you love it terribly, your hole twitching as you feel his pulsing cock empty his load inside of you.

A short breath escapes him, and you moan feeling him push deeper inside of you, thrusting and out of you to ensure you're not missing a drop of it.

Remaining inside of you, he moves to lay beside you, keeping bodies pressed against you, the smell of sex and sweat in the clammy air of the room, but he doesn't even think of pulling out, let alone pulling away. Instead he settles with his cock inside out you, pressing another kiss against you.

Your eyes feel heavy, your entire body sluggish as you press your face into the crook of his neck.

'Good girl,' he utters against your skin.

You lay together for a short while before he eventually pulls his softening cock from out of you, you whimpering from oversensitivity as he does so. Your inner thighs are wet, and as your hole clenches around nothing, you're face grows red as you feel his cum dripping out of you.

He leaves you alone for a short while and you lay, your body blanketed in the moonlight. Beyond the window in his room, you spy the ocean in the distances, seeing the rolling waves, your throat tightening are your eyes move around the room, spying his side of the bed, then lifting back to the water.

You can't possibly stay here forever? Can you?

You have people, you have your sister still to find, getting no closer to having Simon confess to you where she is being kept.

When you uncover it eventually, what are you going to do? Free her and stay here? Will the even want you back when you return with the marks of a human all over you?

Your eyes water when he comes back into the room with a cup of water and a damp cloth in his hands, approaching you.

He sees the furrow of your brow and the discontent on your face, taking a seat beside you, pressing his hand against your face.

'I haven't hurt you have—'

'No, no,' you quietly state, sniffling, 'just...' you look at him, holding his wrist. 'I like you,' you whisper, his eyes growing wide at your confession, 'I- I know it's soon but—'

'I like you too, sweetheart,' he reassures, setting the cup of water down on the nightstand.

You rejoice in the outcome of your diversion, noting it works well as he looks at you with all the adoration the human heart can muster. 'Let's get you cleaned up, yeah? Can't leave you like this,' he utters, to which you nod in appreciation.

The night is sleepless for the most part as you're in his arms. It's difficult to confess to yourself, but you're aware of the lies you have told and of the possible consequences to come from it.

Even if he isn't fearful of what you are, there's still the fact that the betrayal will be too great as, essentially, everything you have together is built on a lie, and you're only encouraging it through playing the role of human.

A part of you wishes to wake him from his current sleeping state and tell him, yet, you cower in the thought of conflict destroying the night the pair of you have shared.

So, you tell yourself that you'll tell him tomorrow instead before falling into the heat of his body, closing your eyes.

＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚ ☾ ˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

In the morning you wake with a dull ache between your thighs, looking to the side of your bed.

Simon isn't there and you sit up quickly, eyes scanning around the room, a panicked breath squeezing out of your lung as you search for him.

Has he left for work already?

You feel an odd sense of betrayal well in your breast as you shuffle from under the sheets, stopping in your tracks when you hear the creak of the staircase leading into his room. His head appears first and you quickly fall back onto the bed, eying him.

'I thought you left for work,' you confess as he climbs the final step. He shakes his head, looking out of the window to the early morning sun. It covers his frame in a delicious light and you take a moment to admire him. How his white shirt settles against his chest, the mask on his face right back where it usually it.

It's a shame though; you want to see his blond hair in the light of the sun.

'I'm not that cruel, sweetheart,' he reassures, 'want you to come with me today; I'm sitting in the Station by myself while the other three do whatever, want some company with me,' he says, we'll stop by the library and bakery before we go there, I'll get you that pastry you like,' he offers, fixing the buckle of his belt, 'what do you think?'

Propping your head up with your hand, you look as hm with rosy cheeks and a bright grin on your face. 'Make me a cup of tea when we're in the station too?' you ask.

'If I must,' he says, laughing, moving towards one of the drawers in his bedroom, pulling it open.

Grabbing a dress and panties, walking up to you. Shifting in the bed, you push the sheets back, standing up, taking the panties from his hands.

Stepping into them, you look up to see him holding your dress, the skirt bunched up. 'Hold your arms up,' he instructs, to which you giggle at, but comply, holding your arms up.

Placing the fabric of the dress over your head, you slip your arms inside of the sleeves, as he kneels down in front of you, pushing his mask up slightly so he can press kisses onto your stomach as he lowers the skirt of the dress further and further down.

More laughter spills past you as you watch him with do so. The skirt reaches your ankles and he stands up, grasping your waist. 'Happy I got this dress for you,' he comments.

You quirk an eyebrow.

'I thought you said it was plain.'

'Nothing's plain when you're wearing it, sweetheart,' he responds, pressing a kiss onto your lips. You roll your eyes at his sappiness despite melting into his hold.

'You're an idiot,' you say.

'And you're slow,' he retorts, letting go of your waist, 'finish up getting ready and meet me downstairs, don't take too long; don't wanna be stuck in a queue at the bakery.'

'You're the reason—'

'Don't wanna hear it, princess,' he calls as he walks down the the stairs, leaving you alone in his bedroom, crossing your arms over yourself as you watch him disappear.

＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚ ☾ ˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

He cannot take his eyes off of you as you sit in the station, stray crumbs of the pastry around your mouth as you babble on about one of the books you found in the library.

It never occurred to him until now that it's very much possible to be a love drunk fool, and he feels himself grinning under his mask as you speak with such passion, it's making him lightheaded. He has little understanding of what you're talking about, but that doesn't matter.

He sits and listens to you, only stopping you when he reaches out his hand, brushing away the clumsy flakes of pastry from around your mouth. You stare at him, eyes panning down to your skirt as you blush at the sight of golden flecks on the white fabric.

Brushing your hands over your covered thighs, you brush them away, looking back at him. Opening your mouth, you go to speak, all for your moment to come crashing down as Kyle barges into the Station.

Taking one look at the pair of you, he lets out a comically loud wretch, 'save it for the bedroom, please,' he breathes, closing the door behind him.

'What are you doin' back?' Simon asks, checking your face for any more crumbs, letting a small grunt when he's satisfied there are none, pulling his hand away from you. 'Thought you were going to be out all day.'

'I've been looking for Rhys,' he says, 'he's supposed to be keeping an eye on her and I haven't seen her, when I went to the cabin the door was locked, all the curtains were drawn too,' he explains, rubbing his head.

Your ears perk up with the mention of a cabin, glancing at Simon before back at Gaz.

She's in a cabin somewhere nearby and she's still alive.

Your heart settles with the thought.

'He couldn't have gone far,' Simon says, 'might've slept in or something- if something was wrong, he wouldn't disappear on us.'

'You're right,' Kyle says, closing the door behind him, 'he's a good kid, shouldn't be thinking badly of him in the first place, just difficult not to worry when he's usually there at the crack of dawn, you know?'

'Are people still demanding a trial?' you ask.

'Yeah,' Kyle responds, approaching the fireplace to the right of the bed you're sitting on, pulling the lid off of the kettle. Fortunately, Simon replenished it after making you both a mug of tea. 'We're trying to push it back; she's a nice girl from what I can tell, doesn't speak much though- to me at least,' he explains.

'Why don't you just let her go?'

'Letters from the Lords telling us we can't act until he's back home,' he says, 'unfortunately, we work for him. If it was up to me, she'd be back in the water; I think everything people are saying about her is nothing more than fairytales.'

You smile at his words; he's right, in terms of her, they are all fairytales.

If he's looking for the sirens from fairytales, he's already eyeing her as he talks to you.

'Do you want another cup of tea?' Kyle asks, looking at the pair of you. Simon shakes his head but you nod, though, before you can reach for your mug, it's taken from out of your reach as Simon holds it out for Kyle.

You give him a short look which he returns after handing your cup to to Kyle who busies himself with minding his business.

'You my servant now?' you ask.

'Can be if you want me to be,' he answers.

You roll your eyes, leaning your back against the wall, dusting the remnants of your breakfast off of your hands.

'You're sweet talk is making me sick,' Kyle calls, approaching you, carefully handing you your mug of tea, 'need some lessons in it, Simon,' he adds.

'Fuck off,' barks the man.

'I've got nothing to do so you're not getting rid of me for a while,' he says, 'I'm gonna stay here for a while before heading back up to the cabin, haven't had a moment to relax this morning,' he scoffs, 'could do with a moment of rest.'

Sitting forward, you move your legs off of the bed, allowing Kyle to take a seat beside you, sipping from your mug, 'there's always something to be doing,' he begins to complain, 'never a fuckin' quiet moment in this—'

The door to the station bursts open, slamming against the wall opposite.

'She's dead!'

The cup in your hand drops as you jolt from the sudden noise, the hot liquid merely missing your thighs as you shift out of the way, hearing the tea cup shattering as it meet with the stone floor.

You curse under your breath, looking at the mess you have made as you go to drop to the ground to clean it up, all for Kyle to shake it head while Simon stands up to address the man at the door.

'It's fine love,' reassures the man sweetly, 'you'll end up cuttin' your fingers, I'll clean it up,' he says, looking down at the shattered tea cup on the ground.

Frankly, you appreciate his kindness as you raise to your feet, looking around Simon's bulky frame to the man who scared you.

He's shaking as he speaks looking at Simon, his eyes blown wide, reflective of the surface of the moon as he tugs at his fingers while attempting to express the horrors of which he has witnessed.

'I left for the night, an' when I returned she was dead,' he says, 'bloody and beaten, whoever it was took all her scales, left them around the room like it's some sort of fuckin' confetti.'

Scales.

You're sure you hear Kyle yell, but you're unsure what he actually says.

There's anger in the young man's eyes, genuine emotion as he details every single gruesome detail of the scene.

Serelia.

The siren.

'W- Where?' you manage to get out, not caring if Simon is about to say something in response. 'Where is she?' you roughly demand.

The young man standing in front of you looks at you with wide eyes as you move in front of Simon.

Your lover doesn't say anything.

'Tell me!' you demand, grabbing his shirt.

'T- The cabin just beyond the Lords house,' he stutters.

Without much thought, you're rushing out of the station without any hesitation, rushing through the streets as your heart rages in your chest.

Your mind is racing with his confession, shoving past and barging shoulders with everyone as you push through the busy town square, staggering up the steps towards the direction of the Lords house.

You're aware of the man behind you; Simon never really did let you out of his sights, after all.

Everything seems so much smaller in your eyes as you stumble further and further up, tears flowing freely down your cheeks.

Perhaps it's some form of sick joke- she's okay, she's just playing dead; she's a smart girl, even having tricked you a few times.

She's okay- she's got to be okay.

You're in a fit of hysterics as you pull the door open to the small, reserved cabin.

There are footsteps behind you, a distant call for your name, only, when you pull the door open, you seek the sister you had lost that night on the shore. Still bleeding as she was when she had been taken despite her pleads for freedom, only, she isn't moving.

She lays on the wooden ground of the room, her hand open in your direction, as stray tear slipping down her face as her open, bruised eyes stare into nothingness.

You stand at the door, your bottom lip trembling as you scream out, 'SERELIA.'

Rushing up to her side, you collapse onto your knees, trembling hands hovering over her swollen body, blood seeping into your white frock as you simply sit and stare in horror.

Placing your hand against her cheek, you flinch at the icy feeling of her skin, trailing the tips of your fingers over her soft flesh. Stray scales sit on the ground from around you, plucked like petals from a daisy.

Her body is destroyed, pretty face so swollen, you hardly know who you're looking at.

Nausea hits you, though you fight against the urge to vomit up your breakfast, lunging forward, slipping your hand beneath the bleeding body of your sister, resting your forehead against her shoulder as you pull her close, her body falling over your lap as you sob, brushing your hair through her dirty ginger locks as your body shakes against her still one.

This all feels like a bad dream that you wish to wake from, only, you cannot.

'I- I'm sorry, my urchin,' you manage to get out between spouts of hyperventilation and nausea, your nails digging into her flesh as your arm settles in her blood.

'My beauty, they have destroyed you,' you mumble under your breath, unmoved by the stench in room as your chest swells.

Pulling your head off of the corpses shoulder, you press your hand firmly against her rotten cheek, observing the countless amount of cuts.

You feel the room spinning as you observe the true brutality of mankind, how they are so careless towards the rest of natures creations and you feel like a fool.

A fury burns within you, your tongue ceasing as two hands are placed on your shoulders, attempting to move you away from Serelia. Looking up over your shoulders, you spy the bewildered eyes of your lover.

'Let go of me, Simon,' you demand, turning your head back to the woman on the ground.

His hands stay firmly on your shoulders.

You wish for him to relent, but that's not in his nature. No, he wishes to keep you from all danger, and with the mess you have made of yourself and the crime scene, somewhere deep inside, you understand that you cannot have the very thing you desire.

You're pulled to your feet, crying as you kick and scream in his arms, the bloody skirt of your dress sticking to your legs as you fight against him.

'Let me go!' you cry, turning in his hold, bringing your hands to his chest, weakly hitting him as though it is he who caused the bloody slaughter. 'Let me go,' you hiccup as you're pulled out the door, away from the sight that is sure to haunt you for the rest of your life.

Pushing your hands against his chest, you shove him with all you might, though he does not move.

Placing you against a tree, he gently guides you to the ground as your legs give, kneeling on the ground before you as you chase after your breath, your legs laid out in front of you, your hands resting flat against your thighs.

Looking up towards the sky, you spy the moon staring down upon you despite the morning sky, proceeding to cry as you recall the lights on the shore the night Serelia was taken.

Your throat burns with the desire to scream and scream until you have torn the very vocal cords nature gifted to you, seeing no use in them as you come to realise that you will never call her name and get a response ever again.

'You were never on our side,' you sniffle harshly, hot tears flowing free as Simon simply stares at you. 'I see their torches in the light of your stars. You make us the villains, fool us into doing your dirty work, and then leave us stranded when you want no more to do with us,' you seethe, turning your head to the side as you continue to sob.

Simon's hand presses against your flushed face, pushing your head up from off of your shoulder, 'love, you need to calm down,' he utters gently. 'You're gonna make yourself sick if you keep on like this,' he warns.

He means well, you love him enough to acknowledge that in the midst of your fury.

Yet, your punishment leaves you weak and weary, missing the water you grew up in, missing life prior to that night.

'I already am sick,' you retort in a broken tone, 'infected with the parasite that makes me you, that separates me from her,' you cry, 'no longer a siren, only human.'

You don't care what happens, and, if you do, your emotions keep you from logic.

'W- What?' the man beside you chokes out.

You don't miss the way his hold on your face tightens, yet, you do not flinch, permitting his harsh hold as you look him in the eyes, swallowing harshly.

'I'm not a human,' you whisper, 'I don't know what I am anymore... I never had a sister, I was never in a wreckage, I was looking for her, my Urchin,' you admit, turning your head in the direction of the cabin. 'And now she's gone.'

Your sobs fill the void of silence, only, nothing fills the void of warmth against your face as he pulls his hand away from your face. Looking at him, your bottom lip wobbles.

Every lesson your mother has ever taught you is urging you to hate him, telling you that it is his fault that there she's lying there alone in a puddle of her own blood, unrecognisable.

However, no matter how much you wish to lunge forward and claw his eyes from out of his head, you find heart and mind conflict easily.

'Please say something,' you beg, caving to the gaping hole in your chest, longing for the return of his touch for, what is left after him? An outcast? Nowhere to return, even the ocean doesn't want you, and your bleak reality begins to settle in as his eyes do not change. 'Please, please talk to me, I- I've already lost her—'

He's unsure how to tread, you see the weariness in his eyes. 'What part of you is real?' he asks, 'or are you just a liar?'

'My love for you is real,' you blurt out, 'I cherish you, all of you for caring for me and for taking care of me when I needed it the most,' you continue, 'but I couldn't tell you, Si'- I- I've been trying to think of a way to tell you the truth and I was gonna do it today- I swear to you.'

'Why?' he lowly asks, 'are you afraid of me?'

'Are you afraid of me?' you question, looking him in the eyes as a stray tear falls past your eye.

He pauses.

'Your people murdered one of my own, Si',' you choke out, a flurry of emotion blowing over you as your face and skin prickle with an insatiable heat. 'We act accordingly, you treat us violently, we react with violence, but she...' your words trail, 'she did nothing to anyone, Simon. Had a voice as sweet as honey, charming, loving to the creatures of the sea, and look at what happened.'

'What's stoppin' you from hurting me?'

His voice and tone are raw as you look at him.

Truthfully, in the midst of your misery, you're unable to see the reason which keeps your fury at bay, though, when you look into his eyes, you understand for a moment long enough to form a response.

'You tried to keep her safe,' you whisper, 'keeping her from everyone, keeping her out of the way. They got to her, you didn't.'

And I can't let myself get to you for something you haven't done.

He exhales, looking towards you with bleary eyes.

Always, the desire to push him away is going to nestle within after the events of today, but nothing stops you from lunging into his arms, wrapping your arms around his neck with as you sob.

His large hand presses against your head as he pulls you close, his hold on you almost crushing as you cry into the nape of his neck. If he is hushing you, you can't hear him.

You're in his arms and he's got you.

His hold feels the same as the one you have became accustomed with during your time on land, nothing has changed.

Feeling him tug at his mask, you settle when you feel his lips press against your forehead, and with a small voice he utters, 'I love you,' he says, 'human, siren, sea monster, sea urchin, I don't fuckin' care,' he states firmly, placing another kiss on your forehead.

'I love you too,' you tightly say, feeling the urge to smile at his words, but you don't, simply remaining in his arms.

'I'm sorry, love,' he utters. 'She didn't deserve any of this, neither did you.'

With your face buried into his neck, you nod your head.

'I know.'

You lay in his arms for what seems like an eternity, holding his bloody shirt as he rubs your back.

There's nothing that can be said, you know that.

Both of you do.

A man of few words can hardly be expected to become a flowing fountain of knowledge in the span of an hour.

Anyone else would curse him for not trying to make you feel better, maybe even say he doesn't care about you. But his rough touch turns gentle with you. His boisterous manner is reserved to calmness.

Oddly enough, it's in the most violent man that you find your faith in humanity is kept from drifting off of the cliff, toppling over into the ocean.

Eventually, you feel him shift beside you and you're moved as though your a doll in a child's arms. Looking down at you, he brushes his hand against your face, wiping away the tears that have flooded your face. You place your hands over his much larger ones, looking him in the eyes as you sniffle.

'We can't leave her there like this,' he utters, 'they'll wanna burn her body, 'not gonna let that happen.'

You mouth grows dry.

'We'll bury her up here, there's a clearing near the cliff, overlooking the water so she's not too far from home.'

No words leave your mouth so you simply nod your head in agreement as the pair of you raise from the floor.

Her helps you up and keeps you steady, not daring to let go of you, seemingly fearful that, if you fell, you would shatter and leave him forever.

He does all the work, leaving you to sit and watch as he carefully raps the girl in a sheet, lifting her into his arms with ease.

You standby and watch idly, holding a shovel in one hand and a lantern in the other, unable to look the dismal sight in the eye.

As, you step outside of the cabin, keeping your head bowed as you follow after him, heading towards the burial sight he mentioned.

It's hidden, private, and you stand near the edge of the cliff, looking down into the darkened abyss of water below you as you hear the occasional grunt from behind you as Simon busies himself with digging the gave.

At this moment you're resentful, wishing for some form of blow to the head to send you over the cliff, rejoicing in the short fall before you're able to escape from the consequences of your failure.

Only, you cannot will yourself to go over the cliff on your own accord, knowing if you did, Simon would most likely blame himself- if not follow right after you.

Living in the idea is enough to keep the action at bay, the resounding guilt and regret you imagine you would feel after taking the leap filling you with dread.

So, you turn yourself around and sit next to the woman wrapped in white while Simon makes a grave for her to finally rest her weary head.

It's difficult to say goodbye.

It was difficult when you said goodbye to your mother, a bitter pill to swallow when old age claimed the crazed woman on the seas, though, the guilt stabbing into your heart like a dagger proves to make this send off much worse.

Never did you dream of doing something so horrible, yet, here you are, unable to escape reality.

It's the dead of night by the time the grave is ready, the lantern in your hand flickers as Simon holds the body of Serelia in his arms, lowering her into the grave he constructed using a shovel.

The sheet she's wrapped in is stain red, marked with her blood, and while your chest grows heavy at the sight you find solace hiding in the shadows away from the moonlight.

Kneeling to the ground beside him, you tear the edge of your skirt, placing it onto her body with a shaky sigh.

He looks at you.

'When someone passes, we pull one of own scales and lay it with them to rest so they always have a piece of us with them,' you explain, 'I can't do that for her, but I'm not going to leave her with nothing,' you state.

Grabbing the edge of his shirt, you watch with a sunken smile as he rips a piece of his shirt of, laying it beside the piece of your dress you laid upon her.

'It's an apology,' mumbles the man, 'couldn't be there to keep her from harms way in this life, but she'll have me in the next. She'll have the both of us, yeah?'

'Forever and always.'

＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚ ☾ ˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

You return to his home covered in blood.

He helps you wash, rubbing a sponge around your back as you lean forward, chin resting against your knees with void eyes. You say nothing to him, only listening to his gentle requests.

While doing so, he feels a heat growing his stomach. It had been set alight from the very second he heard you screaming and crying, and the longer he focuses, the more he finds his blood boils. Someone in the village knew where she was and they killed her- perhaps even multiple people.

A poor young girl was murdered, and in the process they murdered your spirit.

And now he is scared as he looks at you.

There's nothing to tie you to the land anymore, he understands that as he wraps you in a towel, carrying you up the steps to his bedroom in a woeful silence.

There's nothing to tie you to him and he wishes to paint the town red for the crime committed against you, swearing to himself that he will find the perpetrator.

The next time he's cleaning blood from under his fingernails will be the time he has avenged you.

Until then, however, he's committed to being beside you until you no longer want him there as he looks onto you after helping you get ready for bed, lying on his back beside you.

Nothing is left in you, your soul devoid of anything as your mind wanders to her body wrapped in that white sheet, and as you look to the dress discarded on the floor, you find you're not too far off her fate.

Laying your head upon his head, you listen to his heartbeat to make sure he's alive, fearful that he will leave you before you get the opportunity to leave him first.

'I love you,' you croak.

'I love you too, sweetheart.'

After a while he his breathing calms, soothing and melting as a wave on the beach did.

Your mind has been made up since he placed his shirt beside yours, and as you watched him cover her with dirt, you stood with crossed arms and contemplated for a while. The crashing of the waves over the cliff edge called for you as you stood there.

You cannot stay here.

For the good of yourself and the good of him.

Too much is at risk now, and too much has been lost.

Too many thoughts fill your head, bad thoughts. Bringing him to the water all to sing a song to pull him into it.

You'll watch as he fights for air, trying to break the surface of the water once more, but you will not care, simply watching him fight and fight until all life leaves him and his soul has left you.

Foolish mortal men.

You hear your mothers voice ringing in your ears as you look at his sleeping eyes, then to the blood beneath your nails.

Sinking into the watery depths of a sirens den.

Crawling from beside him, you offer him one final look at you lean over the sleeping man, pressing a kiss onto his temple, watching as his hand curls around the pillow on your side of the bed.

Misery strikes you as you look at the empty spot, something within you urging to you to crawl back into bed beside him, only, you're reminded of the celebrations litter through the town, the festering buzzing of the flies in the cabin, and the swollen face of Serelia.

How is one to move past such when they lack the very emotion of remorse?

And how are you supposed to keep your emotions at bay when you feel an unquenchable urge to bring the village into the water?

Both are impossible to solve, and somethings are better off left broken, for, if you act on your anger, you betray the man you love with all your being.

But, if you act on love, you betray the women in the sea who are most likely worried sick with your disappearance. So, you take hold of the first dress he bought you, pulling it over your head, eyes teary as you look at him sleeping.

You're making the right choice in leaving, you say that to yourself when you place another chaste kiss against his cheek, allowing the thought to follow you as you push the door of his house open, stepping onto the pavement.

It follows you down the twists and turns of the street, leading you from place you have both loved and lost back to the ocean where you have only ever know strength and family.

The land is cruel, harsher than the sea.

Even during a violent storm you find you prefer the sea for the land houses people capable of despicable things, maintaining the ability of hurting you, not only on the outside, but also on the inside. You long for normality, for a sense of belonging again, and while you know you will always have a place in his bed and arms, you have a duty to fill elsewhere, an anger to keep at bay, people to keep safe.

You have to go, and you hope he understands.

A man of few words yet the only man who could ever hold your heart and not shatter it, and as you're walking on the sand, stumbling towards the water, you allow yourself to cry an ugly and loud cry as you fist at the fabric of the dress he gifted you, pulling the skirt to your mouth, pressing your lips against the fabric. Your legs carry as you remain with the skirt bundled in your arms, inhaling the scent of the place you have grown to know as home.

But it's never going to be home again.

The water greets your feet as you allow your arms to drop to your side, walking into the sea.

The waves crash down, soaking the bottom of the pink fabric and you continue to sob as you edge further and further into the water, cupping your face in your hands as you stiffly wade through the waves.

Wiping under your eyes with your fingers, you raise your head in the direction of the sky, seeing the moon sitting above the sea. You keep your eyes trained on the red moon, unmoved by the winking stars in the night sky as you turn your back to her.

Observing the land one last time, you fall backwards into the water, whispering an ode to Serelia under your breath as the ocean swallows you whole.

𝙼𝚊𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚝

TAGS: (If you would like to be added to the tag list let me know!) @forever-twenty-two-years-old

#call of duty #cod #ghost x you #simon ghost riley #simon ghost x reader #simon riley #simon riley x you #mw2 #cod mw2 #cod au #task force 141 #cod mwii #ghost simon riley #ghost cod #ghost x reader #ghost x reader smut #ghost x reader angst #simon riley smut #simon riley x reader #simon riley x y/n #ghost call of duty #simon ghost riley x you #simon ghost x you #simon ghost smut #simon ghost riley x reader #siren au #alternate universe

[hedgehog-moss]

Inspired by your last ask! What are the best French books you’ve read that have no English translation yet? I read Play Boy and Qui a tué mon père (really loved the latter) last year and it feels so fun to read something that other Americans can’t access yet

I'm too nervous to make any list of the Best XYZ Books because I don't want to raise your expectations too high! But okay, here's my No English Translation-themed list of books I've enjoyed in recent years. I tried to make it eclectic in terms of genre as I don't know what you prefer :)

Biographies

• Le dernier inventeur, Héloïse Guay de Bellissen: I just love prehistory and unusual narrators so I enjoyed this one; it's about the kids who discovered the cave of Lascaux, and some of the narration is written from the perspective of the cave <3 I posted a little excerpt here (in English).

• Ces femmes du Grand Siècle, Juliette Benzoni: Just a fun collection of portraits of notable noblewomen during the reign of Louis XIV, I really liked it. For people who like the 17th century. I think it was Emil Cioran who said his favourite historical periods were the Stone Age and the 17th century but tragically the age of salons led to the Reign of Terror and Prehistory led to History.

• La Comtesse Greffulhe, Laure Hillerin: I've mentioned this one before, it's about the fascinating Belle Époque French socialite who was (among other things) the inspiration for Proust's Duchess of Guermantes. I initially picked it up because I will read anything that's even vaguely about Proust but it was also a nice aperçu of the Belle Époque which I didn't know much about.

• Nous les filles, Marie Rouanet: I've also recommended this one before but it's such a sweet little viennoiserie of a book. The author talks about her 1950s childhood in a town in the South of France in the most detailed, colourful, earnest way—she mentions everything, describes all the daft little games children invent like she wants ageless aliens to grasp the concept of human childhood, it's great.

I'll add Trésors d'enfance by Christian SIgnol and La Maison by Madeleine Chapsal which are slightly less great but also sweet short nostalgic books about childhood that I enjoyed.

Fantasy

• Mers mortes, Aurélie Wellenstein: I read this one last year and I found the characters a bit underwhelming / underexplored but I always enjoy SFF books that do interesting things with oceans (like Solaris with its sentient ocean-planet), so I liked the atmosphere here, with the characters trying to navigate a ghost ship in ghost seas...

• Janua Vera, Jean-Philippe Jaworski: Not much to say about it other than they're short stories set in a mediaeval fantasy world and no part of this description is usually my cup of tea, but I really enjoyed this read!

Essays / literary criticism / philosophy

• Eloge du temps perdu, Frank Lanot: I thought this was going to be about idleness, as the title suggests, and I love books about idleness. But it's actually a collection of short essays about (French) literature and some of them made me appreciate new things about authors and books I thought I knew by heart, so I enjoyed it

• Le Pont flottant des rêves, Corinne Atlan: Poetic musings about translation <3 that's all

• Sisyphe est une femme, Geneviève Brisac: Reflections about the works of female writers (Natalia Ginzburg, Virginia Woolf, Sylvia Townsend Warner, etc) that systematically made me want to go read the author in question, even when I'd already read & disliked said author. That's how you know it's good literary criticism

Let's add L'Esprit de solitude by Jacqueline Kelen which as the title suggests, ponders the notion of solitude, and Le Roman du monde by Henri Peña-Ruiz which was so lovely to read in terms of literary style I don't even care what it was about (it's philosophy of foundational myths & stories) (probably difficult to read if you're not fully fluent in French though)

Did not fit in the above categories:

• Entre deux mondes by Olivier Norek—it's been translated in half a dozen languages, I was surprised to find no English translation! It's a crime novel and a pretty bleak read on account of the setting (the Calais migrant camp) but I'd recommend it

• Saga, Tonino Benacquista: Also seems to have been translated in a whole bunch of languages but not English? :( I read it ages ago but I remember it as a really fun read. It's a group of loser screenwriters who get hired to write a TV series, their budget is 15 francs and a stale croissant and it's going to air at 4am so they can do whatever they want seeing as no one will watch it. So they start writing this intentionally ridiculous unhinged show, and of course it acquires Devoted Fans

Books that I didn't think existed in English translation but they do! but you can still read them in French if you want

• Scrabble: A Chadian Childhood, Michaël Ferrier: What it says on the tin! It's a short and well-written account of the author's childhood in Chad just before the civil war. I read it a few days ago and it was a good read, but then again I just love bittersweet stories of childhood

• On the Line, Joseph Ponthus: A short diary-like account of the author's assembly line work in a fish factory. I liked the contrast between the robotic aspect of the job and the poetic nature of the text; how the author used free verse / repetition / scansion to give a very immediate sense of the monotony and rhythm of his work (I don't know if it's good in English)

• The End of Eddy, Edouard Louis: The memoir of a gay man growing up in a poor industrial town in Northern France—pretty brutal but really good

• And There Was Light, Jacques Lusseyran: Yet another memoir sorry, I love people's lives! Jacques Lusseyran lost his sight as a child, and was in the Resistance during WWII despite being blind. It's a great story, both for the historical aspects and for the descriptions of how the author experiences his blindness

• The Adversary: A True Story of Monstrous Deception, Emmanuel Carrère: an account of the Jean-Claude Romand case—a French man who murdered his whole family to avoid being discovered as a fraud, after spending his entire adult life pretending to be a doctor working at the WHO and fooling everyone he knew. Just morbidly fascinating, if you like true crime stuff

#ask #book recs #the book i started reading last night is The Naked Neanderthal by Ludovic Slimak and i also didn't #expect it to have an english translation but it does #i'm only at the beginning and so far it's philosophical ponderings about what kind of creature the neanderthals were #if they were humans in a different way than us. with a different kind of intelligence #and how to understand it without projecting our own way of being in the world onto this other humanity #sorry to quote cioran again but it reminds me of when he said every generation misses the good old days and #if we retrace our steps from regret to regret we'll find the original regret #our nostalgia for a time when humans weren't yet human

[sstormyskyess]

omg 16 with poly tf141 would be the greatest thing ever reader brings not one, not two, but four huge beefcakes home to their shitty families holiday party that they only throw to show off their fancy house and shitty interior design, I know that probably wasn't the original idea of the prompt but if you're interested I'd love to see you write it thank you!

Family Affairs

author's note: i actually got to pull from personal experience with this one tbh, i’m gonna have to go to a party like this near the end of the year. unfortunately, i don’t have four beefcakes to bring with me 😔 at least i can imagine it though! thank you for the request, hope you enjoy!!

cw: poly tf 141, general fluffy stuff, reader has a big family [just like me, i have 14 members in my extended family just on my dad’s side]

word count: 1800+

TF-141 x GN!Reader

You groan, burying your face in your hands. You were hoping, praying that you weren't going to get that one little text message that always spelled disaster no matter when it came across your phone screen. It had been a good run, too; you hadn’t suffered this fate in a good few years. But, apparently that winning streak was too good to be true.

You look at the notification on your screen again, re-reading it for about the third time. ‘We hope to see you at the party this year! P.S., please bring your boyfriend along this time, your aunt won’t drop it,’ the message from your mom read. Boyfriend. Little did she know, you in fact had four boyfriends, none of which had met your frustratingly nosy family.

Speak of the devil—or, one of them at least—John walks into the common area, a stack of papers in his hand. “Morning, love.” He shoots you a smile before focusing his attention back on the documents he was scanning. “What’s on your mind?” He takes a seat in the chair opposite you, leaning back and crossing his legs, one ankle on the other leg’s knee.

You think for a bit before sighing. “Off-base things. Family stuff.” It’s clear he was unsatisfied with your vague answer when he met your eyes with a raised brow. You huff, knowing you wouldn’t get away with dancing around the issue for even a moment. “My mom wants me to bring a boyfriend back for my aunt’s holiday party.”

John continues to look at you, his air gone from stern to confused within a second. “You do have a boyfriend. Four of them, actually.” He tilts his head as he states the obvious. You roll your eyes, crossing your arms. “I know that. I just don’t wanna subject any of you to the torture that is being at those pointless parties.”

He just smiles at you again, his eyes returning to whatever was on the papers in his lap. “Maybe we’ll make it better for you. I’m sure the rest of our boys will be glad to accompany you.”

You chew the inside of your cheek, thinking about the prospect. Frankly, it did sound like a good idea on the surface; it would be nice to spend some down time with all the people you love, after all. After another few moments of thought, you nod and stand up from your chair. “You’ve got a point. I’ll go talk to the others, then—see if they’ll be able to come with us.”

John hums in approval, catching your wrist as you walk past toward the door. “Hey. Come here.” You smile, leaning down to kiss him and appreciating the feeling of John’s hand coming up to the nape of your neck, his fingers rubbing a loose circle on your skin. “Things will be fine, darling,” he says after pulling away. “Don’t worry.”

A deep sense of dread starts to build inside of you as your mini convoy starts to approach your aunt’s house, which is technically more like a mansion based on the size of it. It had already set in the moment Simon convinced the others to let him drive. Yes, he got you to your destination way faster than any of the others would, but that was only because he drives like a maniac.

The dread slowly developing wasn’t caused by Simon almost getting everyone into a wreck at least two or three times, though. It was caused by the fact that you could already see your family’s cars lined up along the road and sitting in the driveway, memories of past parties flooding your head.

Kyle beside you must notice the way you’ve started shrinking into yourself and he wraps his arms around your shoulders, pulling you close to kiss you on the cheek. “I’m excited to meet your family, sweetheart.” An underlying joy is hidden in his voice, which brings a small smile to your face. “You sure?” You chuckle, leaning into him. “They can be a lot.”

“I’ve dealt with worse, no need to worry.” He ensures you, pressing a couple more kisses to your temple and your forehead. Your cheeks warm and you push his face away. “Stop it,” you say playfully.

Johnny helps you out of the car and wraps an arm around your waist when Ghost pulls over to park his car on the side of the street. “Who do you think is gonna be the favorite?” He asks with a grin on his face. You hum, tapping your chin and feigning deep thought. “Probably John. And not you, the responsible John.”

Johnny scoffs, dramatically putting a hand over his heart. “I am responsible! Can’t believe you would say such a thing!” You simply pull him closer and kiss him on the cheek, giggling under your breath. “I’m sorry, baby. Please forgive me—” You’re cut off by him giving you a big kiss on the lips. “Fine, you’re forgiven.” He gives you his bright smile, the one that reaches his eyes and crinkles the corners of them.

Simon walks past and tugs on Johnny’s sleeve, pulling him forward. “Get moving, Johnny.” He grunts, dragging him along and taking you with him in turn.”We’re coming, we’re coming,” Johnny huffs.

You take a deep breath once you reach the front door of your aunt’s house, amping yourself up to face the music head-on. You feel John’s comforting hand between your shoulder blades and you smile, his silent support soothing your nerves and giving you the courage to ring the doorbell, officially sealing your fate. No going back now.

Surprisingly, the night was actually going well. Just like John said, being able to sit in-between two of your ruggedly handsome partners while the other two were pulling your aunt’s attention away from you was massively more comfortable compared to your other experiences in this house.

Johnny and Simon, seated next to you on either side, chatted with a couple members of your extended family while Kyle was off in the kitchen making a plate of hors d'oeuvres for you, and John was busy entertaining your aunt and mother with various war stories from his yesteryears. It seemed like everyone was having a blast, their easy smiles contagious.

You look up when Kyle sits in the armchair next to the loveseat you, Simon and Johnny were posted up on. You grin when he presents you with a small plate full of various meats and cheeses. He kisses your hand as you reach over and take the plate from him, making your face heat up. You shoot him a pointed look, but he flashes his pretty smile in return. You can’t possibly stay mad at that smile—I mean, have you seen it? You just shake your head, unable to mask the flustered look on your face.

Your grandmother looks away from her conversation with Johnny and turns her attention to Kyle. “Oh my! Who’s this lovely young man?” She listens intently as he introduces himself and then starts up her usual questioning whenever one of her grandbabies brought someone to meet the family.

You let out a long sigh, your senses already getting overwhelmed after the past hour or so of entertaining the party with your boys. You start to pick at your hors d'oeuvres, building a little stack of what looked like some sort of salami and a piece of cheese on a cracker, popping it in your mouth. 

Simon’s hand comes into your downturned gaze and rests on your leg, giving it a firm yet gentle squeeze, a silent check-in. You cover his hand with yours, looking up at him and smiling, effectively quelling his concerns. He nods and intertwines his fingers with yours, an affectionate glint in his gaze. You return the look wholeheartedly and let him pull his hand away to rest in his lap.

You glance up when you hear your name being called across the room and see John and your mother looking over at you. She beckons you over and you sigh, standing up and starting to head over to the two of them. You jump when Johnny’s hand pats the back of your thigh a couple times, smirking up at you. You roll your eyes and mutter a quiet ‘stop that,’ trying to hide the fact that your heart skipped a beat at the smug look on his face.

John wraps an arm around your waist once you get close enough, his hand petting up and down your side. “Your mother wants to know how we met,” he explains. Your mother pipes up, “I also want to know why you were hiding these lovely men from the family for so long.” She gives you a look. The look. You groan, running a hand over your face. “Of course, mom.”

“I’ve no idea why you were so worried about tonight, bonnie. It was perfectly fine!” Johnny pulls you down to the couch in the living room of the house you and the others had bought recently, his arms tight around you. He held you in place to pepper kisses all over your face. You try to push his face away so you can actually respond to his comment; the effort was futile, but after a few pushes he pulls away on his own. “It seems like they were on their best behavior since you four showed up with me. You’re all pretty imposing, to be fair,” you say, leaning back against Johnny’s chest.

Simon walks in with a handful of mugs filled with warm spiced apple cider, passing them around the room and then sitting in his armchair, his legs crossed loosely. He notices your eyes on him and raises a brow. “You talking about me?” You laugh and shake your head. “Not just you, silly.”

Kyle catches the tail end of the conversation after coming downstairs in his lounging clothes, sitting next to John on the loveseat opposite the couch Johnny had you buried in. “I’m sure it was mostly you, Simon.” He grins, leaning into John’s side. You roll your eyes. “Well, I’m sure most of my family was intimidated by your dashingly handsome looks, good sir.”

John rests his arm on the back of the couch, his fingers playing with the hair on the back of Kyle’s neck. “That’s a good point, darling,” he smirks, taking note of the bashful look that crosses Kyle’s features. He hides his smile by taking a sip from his mug.

“Hopefully your family feels a bit more comfortable around us next year, yeah?” John takes a sip of cider from his own mug, before setting it down on the coffee table and picking up the remote to put something on the TV, probably some shitty holiday movie. The exact kind that he likes.

You hum and hold your warmed up mug in your lap, happily cuddling up with Johnny. “Yeah, hopefully.” There’s a brief pause before you realize what he just said and the implications of it. “Wait—next year?” And once again, that signature sense of dread hits you and you groan, knowing you wouldn’t be able to convince him otherwise.

𝐰𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐭𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

𝐦𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

#simon ghost riley #john soap mactavish #kyle gaz garrick #john price #simon ghost riley x reader #john soap mactavish x reader #kyle gaz garrick x reader #john price x reader #tf 141 #tf 141 x reader #tf 141 x gn!reader #simon ghost riley x gn!reader #john soap mactavish x gn!reader #kyle gaz garrick x gn!reader #john price x gn!reader #mwii #mwiii #mw2 #mw3 #ghost mw2 #ghost mw3 #soap mw2 #soap mw3 #gaz mw2 #gaz mw3 #price mw2 #price mw3 #storm's creations #sstormyskyess

[prettyboyrry]

hi!! i’m so so sorry i haven’t posted any content in a week but i’m back :)) i totally did not expect you guys to like that last one as much as you did but i appreciate it so much. this one is actually based off of an audio from my absolute favorite nsfw va ever so please please please go listen to it before you read. i kind of did some things different just for fun but the concept was too good not to write about. hope you enjoy<3 below is gonna be a link to jupiters audio :)

———————————————————————-

I flinch as the same stupid jump scare pops up as the last 15. If you told me this morning instead of having a chill day to recharge and cuddle with my beautiful girlfriend I'd be sitting in a movie theater watching a movie she was oh so excited to see that it deterred her from cuddling with me, I'd be pissed.

Which I fucking am. I'm sitting with my arms crossed, my lips in a pout and my eyebrows furrowed together just to make it all the more dramatic. This isn't even that aggravating I just wanna make her feel good so we can go home and she can hold me like I deserve after being so good for her all week.

"What's the matter baby?" I'm snapped out of my angered internal rant by abby's sexy raspy voice I have to pretend doesn't affect me so I can keep up my act. It's so hard when she's looking at me with that smirk on her face that makes my cheeks warm up.

"Nothing." I grumble, not very politely might I add. I can see her intake a deep breath trying to calm herself before she answers me. My attitude clearly being uncalled for. I know this isn't as big of a deal as I'm making it but I just want her attention so bad I'm losing it.

"You wanna try that again?" She asks. I flit my eyes over to her to check her demeanor and she's becoming more and more aggravated with me by the second which is valid I'm getting snappy with her but it's for a good reason. Kind of.

"Nope i'm good." I reassure her but she doesn't miss the way I roll my eyes at the end for good measure. I just want her to fucking touch me at this point it's what I've been craving all week but all she wants is to see a dumbass movie we could've watched in the comfort of our own home instead we're now surrounded by a bunch of college students who had nothing better to do.

"I really hope that it's just because it's dark in here i just saw your eyes roll" she assures me "because you would never ever be that rude to me right?"

"I don't know what you're talking about" i whisper to her,"just shut up and watch your movie you care about oh so much"

She raises her eyebrows at what I've just said to her. I'm practically shaking at what's to come. The anticipation is killing me. Is she gonna let us go home? Keep watching the movie? Or mayb-

My internal rambles are cut off by her snaking her hand between my thighs and cupping my heat. I bring my hand down to the arm of my chair and grip it tightly. The feeling of her large hand on my clothed cunt are nothing short of orgasmic.

"You know" she starts, leaning over whispering into my ear "I've been teasing you all week waiting for you to get this needy. I saw your puppy dog eyes when i came in from work waiting to be fucked like the good girl you are and knew I had to mess with you. I don't wanna see this stupid ass movie"

My breathing hitches when I feel her pull down my panties from under my skirt and the cold air hits my pussy. I groan watching her slide my panties into her pocket.

"But what I do wanna see, is you try to keep quiet while i fuck you around all of these people." She says in a husky voice that's making me practically drool.

I gasp at the revelation and that's when I finally notice the shape of her strap sitting pretty in her grey sweatpants. I squeeze my eyes shut when she starts to use her thumb to rub circles onto my clit not starting off slow at all but going at a pace that's making me soaking wet. I let out a strained whimper but remember where we are so I quickly jerk my head over to her and shove my face into her neck leaving hot kisses to try and quiet myself.

"Fuck, you're so hot" she groans,"I'm gonna put my fingers in now okay?"

"yes yes mhm," i cry pathetically to her, feeling so embarrassed at how worked up i already am.

"I bet they're gonna slide right in at how fucking soaked you are" she practically laughs at me "such a whore, hm?"

I nod frantically grabbing onto her bicep hoping she gets the memo and puts her fingers inside me.

"nuh uh" she tutts "when I ask a question you answer it"

"Yes yes abby i'm your whore, all yours" i whine," please."

"shhh" she says "need you to be quiet baby, I know you're needy but do you want everyone to know that you're my little whore?"

"Actually, don't answer that" she rephrases, knowing what my answer was gonna be.

I go to make a snarky remark but am cut off when she skips warming me up and slams two fingers into me.

"oh god please" I don't even know what I'm begging for at this point I just want her.

My brain has turned into complete mush because all I can think about is the way she's curling her fingers just right into the spot that has my eyes rolling into the back of my head and my teeth biting into my lip so hard I can feel myself bleeding a bit.

I cry out desperately when a particularly harsh thrust is delivered and I let my pitiful moans out.

I whip my head up when she stops thrusting her fingers into me to see her practically seething at me.

"Your moans are for me and for me only" she orders,"so what's the issue hm?"

"i know i know m'sorry" I apologize "i'm trying to stay quiet but I can't"

"fix it" she says very sternly.

"yes ma'am" i respond politely.

I immediately fuck up when she slips her fingers back into me with no warning so of course I let out a small moan I couldn't mask. She smirks knowing I was gonna do that and looks up at me darkly.

"poor baby, doesn't know how to listen" she says in a sweet tone but what she's about to do to me is everything but sweet, "it's okay honey, I'll help with that."

Before I can ask what she's gonna do, two fingers get shoved down my throat.

"Since you don't know how to be quiet I'm gonna do it for you huh baby" she asks, knowing I can't answer.

She continues what she's doing under my skirt but instead of just pumping her fingers at an incomprehensible pace, she adds her thumb, continuing the circle motion she was doing on my clit earlier. The combination of the two makes me double over gripping the arms of my theater chair tightly trying to get some type of leverage.

The erotic feeling of this combined with that fact that we could get caught at any moment makes my let out a shaken moan into her fingers that are covered in my saliva. My abdomen begins to tighten when she continues hitting that same spot inside of me that makes me scream. I've had some of the most life altering orgasms when I'm with her but this time it feels completely different.

"mm i-" i try to speak to her through the fingers that i mine as well be choking on with a frantic look on my face at the feeling that's washing over me.

"I know I know lovie," she hums working me through it,"just let it happen"

I nod at her, feeling safe.

"fuck fuck I'm coming, oh my god please" i chant out a mantra of her name and curses as a feeling hits me I've never felt before all at once. My body is twitching all over and my legs are shaking so violently in my seat that she lays her arm across them so no one notices. The feeling that's happening in my stomach is making hot tears stream down my cheeks.

"holy fuck that was hot" she says gruffly after I come down from the most intense orgasm I've ever had.

I look down to find a small puddle of my orgasm in the seat below me realizing that I just-

"I've never made you squirt before what the fuck" abby is looking at me astonished.

"I made a mess" i look at her with a pout slightly embarrassed at this new experience but also feeling like I'm on cloud nine.

"mhm," she hums, pulling me onto her lap facing her "and you're gonna make another one on my lap."

I'm caught off guard when she slides her sweats down just enough to where her dick comes out of her pants. She grabs onto it sliding it back and forth on my sensitive folds making me shudder. I remember we're in a movie theater when she grabs the blanket we brought with us and places it over the both of us to cover the lewd scene happening underneath.

"Can't have everyone seeing your pretty little ass grind on my cock now can we?" she questions me.

"no abby" i whine, "may I have a kiss"

"Of course you can angel" she smiles leaning in planting a long, loving kiss on my lips that reassures me that we're both on the same page and I'm always safe with her.

"Now be good for me and fuck yourself on my cock" she orders, to which I immediately comply to.

I grab onto her shoulders for leverage and bounce lightly up and down onto her to get any sort of friction getting rid of the achy feeling in my tummy from how much I've wanted her.

"The next time you think about being a little cunt to me instead of telling me what you need" she punctuates her sentence by thrusting up into me very harshly making me bite down on her shoulder "I hope you remember how hard it's been to stay quiet in a movie theater and how if you would've just asked for what you wanted at home I would've given it to you and more"

I continue grinding fast and hard on her lap feeling her cock bulge out of my tummy at the angle.

"m'sorry just want you now please" i whine into her ear.

"I know you are baby, it's okay" she reassures me.

My orgasm is coming much faster than the first one due to how sensitive I am so all I need are a few more thrust before that familiar feeling in my belly starts to form.

"god i can hear how soaked you are over the movie" she whispers into my ear trailing hot kisses down my neck. I gasp out into the air when I'm hit with a harsh thrust from her and her very last kiss lands on my boob where she stays, sucking and biting down softly creating bright red hickies.

This is all I need before I'm thrashing against her begging for mercy as she notices my lack of grinds, taking over and fucking up into me clearly not caring about the people around us helping me ride my orgasm out.

"abby, fuck, they're gonna hear me" i cry to her.

"shhh it's ok darling keep going" she hushes me bring her hand down between us rubbing my clit in circles as my orgasm ends making my legs shake in overstimulation.

I freeze when I hear a voice other than abby's but before I can look my head is being covered by a blanket.

"Is she alright" the other voice asks.

"yeah she's fine" abby says in a bored tone clearly pissed we were interrupted.

"just checking" the person says to which abby hums to.

"thanks" is all I hear from her before the person's footsteps lightly fade away.

Abby lifts the blanket from my head smoothing back my hair and pecking my lips three times.

"round three at home?"

———————————————————

i wrote this half asleep so really hoping i don’t regret publishing this tomorrow but bye bye ily mwahh

#wlw concepts #wlw community #wlw smut #wlw #lesbian smut #abby anderson #abby x you #ellie williams #the last of us #abby the last of us #wlw post #abby x fem!reader #ellie x fem reader #ellie x y/n #fem reader #mutuals #tlou #soundgasm

[mellifluous-fics]

Autumnal Adoration | Lando Norris

pairing: lando norris x reader

summary : in which the seasons are changing, and they are disgustingly in love

warnings: mention of suicide? (jokingly in a comment)

a/n: first fic on here, I'd love some feedback, and requests are open! please read my rules before requesting

yourinsta just posted on their story

landonorris has posted on their story

yourinsta

liked by pierregasly, wagsf1 and 174,375 others

yourinsta october dump 🧡🎃👻

view all 345 comments

landonorris 🧡🧡

↳ yourinsta 🥰❤️

maxfewtrell your pumpkin was better than lando's @yourinsta

↳ landonorris oh yeah, because you did so much better

↳ maxfewtrell the pumpkin was rotting, it wasn't my fault!

↳ landonorris WHY WOULD YOU PICK A ROTTEN PUMPKIN!?

user1 shut up that ghost pasta is so cute 🥹

user2 y/n in her active era again 😍 I love fall

danielricciardo cool photos, you should teach lando

↳ yourinsta aww thanks Daniel 😊

↳ landonorris WHY AM I BEING BULLIED?!

user3 lando catching strays in the comments 💀

landonorris

liked by yourinsta, f1_updates and 397,572 others

Three years have gone by so quickly, it feels like we've been together for a lifetime already. You have been my number one supporter since we met, and I wouldn't have it any other way. There is no one in this world I love more than you, and I appreciate every moment we have together. I feel incredibly blessed to have you in my life, and I'm so grateful for the memories we've shared. Happy anniversary, my sweet girl, I hope we have many more together. I love you more than words can express.

view all 539 comments

yourinsta 🥹🥰 I love you so much

↳ landonorris i love you too 😘

user1 stOP THEY'RE SO CUTE

↳ user2 I knowww, like when can I get a lando 🥲

user3 brb taking a bath with my microwave

maxfewtrell disgusting. congrats guys 👏

↳ yourinsta love you max!

↳ landonorris thanks mate

user4 the best couple in f1, convince me otherwise

yourinsta

liked by maxfewtrell, landonorris and 203,142 others

3 years ago, I never could have imagined finding someone who understood me as well as you do. Together, we have shared countless memories and adventures, and I am grateful for every moment. Every day I am reminded of the love we have for each other, and I am so excited to see what the next 3 years bring for us. I feel lucky to have such a wonderful partner in life, and I can't wait to see what our future holds. Here's to many more happy years together! ❤️

view all 414 comments

landonorris love you forever baby

↳ yourinsta love you too, so much 💖

alex_albon happy anniversary y/n and lando! we should do a double date some time

↳ lilymhe golf double date?

↳ yourinsta yes! @/landonorris

user1 lando on the second slide 🥺😭

user2 parents fr

a/n: again, this is my first ever fic on here, so please let me know what I did well/what I could do better! thank you so much for reading, I hope you enjoyed <3

#f1 #formula 1 #f1 x reader #formula 1 x reader #f1 fanfiction #formula 1 fanfiction #lando norris #lando norris x reader #fanfiction #mellifluous fics

[kaleldobrev]

Nice to Meet You (1) — Take Me Back Series

Pairing: Sam Winchester x Fem!Reader

Series Summary: After making a deal to bring you back, Sam doesn't see you until years later when your paths cross during a case

Original Prompt: Requested by anonymous | Hi, I just joined Tumblr and came across your blog, it's wonderful! I'd like to make a request, something between Sam and reader. The reader dies and Sam makes a pact to bring her back, but she comes back without remembering him and the hunting life. He thinks it's best to stay away from her. Years later they meet and she falls in love with him all over again, and when they kiss she regains her memory. Do you like it?

Chapter Word Count: 1.5k

Chapter Warnings: Cursing (4x)

Authors Note: I hope you enjoy chapter one! | I'll be creating a masterlist for this pretty soon | Let me know if you have any theories about what's going to happen next | If you liked this, don’t forget to like & reblog. I really appreciate it! Feedback is always welcome ♡

Read the Prologue Here

"I honestly can't believe this is happening," you said, your head in your hands. This was the fifth death at your shelter in less than a month, and you were honestly starting to feel like either yourself or the place was cursed. But you didn't know what could have possibly changed within the amount of time you've had this shelter. You've had this shelter for almost four years, and this was the first time that something awful had happened here; the last month being a literal living Hell.

You were particularly hard on yourself when it came to these deaths as they all happened while you were in the building, on your watch; and you felt as if you could have somehow stopped them, but you knew there was nothing you could have done. You've never fought in your life, nor have you ever used a gun, you were completely useless in a fight.

Due to the deaths, many of the teens in the shelter, along with some of the staff and volunteers had been talking about leaving, and it was something that you didn't blame them for. They trusted you, and you felt like you had completely disrupted their trust, despite you not being the cause of these deaths. But they came to your shelter for safety, and safety was something that they were currently not feeling.

There was a knock at your office door, and when you looked up, you noticed your friend Mel in the doorway, slight smile on her face. "Y/N, there are two FBI agents here that want to speak with you," she said.

"Fuck," you mumbled, "the FBI are involved now?" You said, exasperated. "Jesus," you mumbled, rubbing your eyes. "Okay, send them in."

"Can do," Mel smiled.

"Really happy Y/N was able to start this place up," Dean said as him and Sam looked around waiting for Mel to come back.

"I am too. It's something she always talked about," Sam said, but he knew that he didn't have to tell Dean that, as he knew just as well as he did; as the both of them could recall numerous conversations in which the three of you would discuss you opening up a place like this.

"Y/N can talk to you now. Her office is just back there. Her name is on the door, you can't miss it," Mel smiled.

"Thank you," Sam nodded.

As Sam and Dean started to walk toward your office door, Sam felt as if his heart was beating a million miles an hour. Dean stopped in the middle of the hallway, stopping his younger brother from walking any further by placing his hand out in front of him. "You sure you're gonna be okay? Look I'll admit, it was a bit of a dick move of me to do this," Dean admitted.

"It's fine, honestly," Sam reassured. "I just want to make sure she's okay...given the circumstances...especially since it's her birthday," he slightly rambled.

"About that, don't even mention that it's her birthday," Dean said. "Because as far as she's concerned, she has no fucking clue who we are and we have no reason to know it's her birthday." Sam was about to open up his mouth to protest, but he decided against it, as there was a part of him that had wanted to wish you a happy birthday.

Another knock came at your door and when you looked up, it was the two FBI agents that Mel had mentioned to you. "Ms. Y/L/N?" the blonde-haired agent asked you.

"Yes, that's me," you replied, getting up from the chair. "But please call me —”

"Y/N," the taller brunette one interjected. You looked at him with a slightly confused expression, and you couldn't help but notice that his blonde-haired partner gave him an almost similar looking expression. "Your name. It's uh...on the...on the door," he slightly rambled, gesturing toward the sign outside of your door.

"Oh my gosh, yes, it is!" You exclaimed, almost slightly embarrassed. "I'm so sorry. This last month has honestly been one of the worst months of my life. I’d probably lose track of my own head if it weren’t attached to me.”

Both men gave you both smiles, humoring your joke. “I can imagine,” the blonde agent said. “And I’m sorry that we have to meet under these circumstances.”

“Definitely,” you said. “Oh how rude of me, I don’t think I caught your names.”

“Agents Sam and Dean Campbell, no relation,” Dean said, holding up his badge. He nudged Sam, who appeared to be the more nervous of the two. With that single nudge, Sam reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out his badge, flashing it to you.

“Nice to meet you Sam and Dean,” you said, trying to smile again. “Mel told me you two wanted to talk to me about…the deaths here at the shelter.”

“Yes, if you don’t mind answering a few questions of course,” Sam said, giving you a gentle smile, a smile that somehow made you feel at ease.

“Of course. I want to catch the bastard who did these to my kids,” your voice slightly angry. “Pardon my French.”

“All good,” Sam answered, reassuring you.

“We’ve heard worse,” Dean added. Especially from you, he wanted to add.

“Oh I’m sure, considering the line of work you two are in,” you smiled.

“So, Miss. Y/L/N, did any of these victims have anything in common besides the fact that they were all runaways?” Sam asked, his voice genuinely filled with concern.

You shook your head. “Not really. I mean, yeah, they had a few things in common like favorite shows, games. But all five of them came from vastly different backgrounds.”

“Did any of them do or say anything that seemed out of the ordinary before they died?” Dean asked.

“Like what?” You asked.

“Like speak a language you haven’t heard them speak before, draw any interesting looking symbols,” Dean said, rattling these things off as if it were second nature to him.

You raised a brow at his answer, finding it a bit odd. “Um, not that I can think of,” you admitted, sounding a little hesitant and slightly confused. “They were all really, really good kids. They didn't mess with...the occult if that's what you're implying. None of my kids to."

"No, that's not what we're implying at all," Sam interjected.

"Then what are you implying?" You asked, a bit of defensiveness in your voice.

"We're just trying to figure out why these five were chosen in particular," Sam began, his voice sounding relatively calm. "The way they were found and the way they were killed it resembles occult practices."

You sighed. "I'm sorry," you said, your head in your hands again. "I'm just so angry. I don't understand why people would target teenagers. Especially killing them in that way. I mean, who the fuck drains blood like that?"

"That's why we're here Y/N," Sam spoke again, and you raised your head to look at him. "Is there anyone you could think of that might be involved?"

You shook your head. "No. All of my volunteers and staff I vetted myself. All of their intentions are good."

Sam and Dean both nodded. "Is there a way we could get a copy of who was in the building during the time of the murders?" Dean asked.

"Of course," you agreed. "Anything both of you need in order to figure out who did this."

“You know, I was really expecting you to hug her,” Dean said, as the two of them entered their motel room.

“I know how to be professional Dean,” Sam scoffed.

“You know, after this is all over, maybe you could ask her out. I’m sure she’ll say yes,” Dean grinned.

“She’s better off without me Dean,” Sam said opening up his laptop. “Besides, last thing she needs is me lying to her about me being in the FBI.”

“You could always tell her the truth,” Dean suggested, shrugging his shoulders.

“That would not be a good idea and you know that,” Sam scoffed.

“It’s not like this stuff is new to her man,” Dean said.

“The deal was, she forgets everything about hunting. That included the whole monsters are real thing,” Sam stated. “Honestly, asking her out again would be too much of a risk.”

“Why?” Dean asked.

“What if the demon finds out and she drops dead?” Sam questioned.

“The deal was she forgets you. Doesn’t mean you couldn’t still ask her out,” Dean said. “Besides, you’re fucking miserable without her, and you can’t tell me differently.” The past four years without you had truly affected Sam in ways that he didn’t think, and it was something that not only Dean had noticed, but Jack and Cas as well. Sam didn’t think Dean knew about how he constantly still looks at pictures of you, or constantly listens to the last voicemail you had left him, or how he constantly watches your favorite movies or tv shows over and over again. But these were things that Dean had known about, as he himself found himself reminiscing about things you and him had done together. Inside jokes between the two of you, or how you would help him be his wingwoman on occasion. “I just haven’t seen you happy in a long time.”

“It’s better this way. She’s…she’s not in danger anymore,” Sam said, his voice defeated. He was miserable without you, but you being safe was all that mattered to him.

In the next chapter...

“What the fuck are you talking about?” You asked her. “I have literally never met Sam or Dean before this.”

“Aw sweetheart, but you have. But, it’s not really your fault for not remembering, that’s what the deal was,” she said.

Tag List: @roseblue373 @beansproutmafia @queenie32 @deanwanddamons @missy420-0 @octoberclidan @kidwhofixates @syrma-sensei @k-slla @justletmereadfanfic @deans-daydream @fuiabarcelos @foxyjwls007 @crystal555 @hannahisthebanana @seamlessepiphany @madzzz0797 @midorimachisenpaii @sammysnaughtygirl @missscarlettangel @frozenhuntress67 @snakebxtez @crystalandphoebewifey @coldspoons If you'd like to be added to a tag list please follow this link

#Sam Winchester x you #Sam Winchester x reader #spn #supernatural #spn imagine #supernatural imagine #spn one shot #supernatural one shot #Sam x you #Sam x reader #reader insert #female reader

[oliversrarebooks]

Have you considered what Oliver would be like as a vampire? I think he would be nice, with an aura like when you’re all cozy in bed and don’t have to get up, you can just enjoy the coziness. Treating any thrall he picked up with respect and intelligence, like a student and their favorite teacher.

Masterlist

September 1925 - In another universe...

TW: mind control, hypnotic induction

Pines Rare Books and Curiosities was probably Lex's greatest find since he'd arrived in the city.

It was a tiny shoebox of a store in a run-down district, but every single inch was packed with the most unusual and fascinating books. Not only did Mr. Pines stock hard to find imported books and gorgeous editions of classics, but many eclectic volumes of the kind Lex would never find in his university's library. Books on vampires and werewolves, on witchcraft and magic, on alchemy and sorcery and divination.

Lex was starting to suspect that the nervous-looking, unassuming proprietor might actually be a wizard.

"Good evening, sir," said Mr. Pines -- he always called Lex 'sir' when greeting him, even though Lex was barely twenty and Mr. Pines must be at least a decade older. "Is there anything in particular you're looking for?"

Lex felt a bit guilty about spending so much time in the shop and only occasionally buying anything, but Mr. Pines didn't seem to mind. If anything, he encouraged the company, offering books he thought Lex might enjoy and even allowing him to sit in one of the plush chairs behind the counter to read. Lex couldn't resist, drawn to the books and the comfortable chair and the always-roaring fireplace like a moth to the flame. It was such a peaceful retreat from the loud commotion of campus life.

There was a strange look in Mr. Pines' eye as he pulled something from behind the counter. It was a notebook bound in blue leather with no title on the front. "If you don't mind..." he said. "I've been working on writing some stories of my own. I'd like some opinions on them, and I know you have a discerning taste in literature."

"You want me to read your stories?" said Lex, surprised. "Well... I suppose I'd be happy to." Just because Mr. Pines was smart and well-spoken was no guarantee that his writing would actually be good, but Lex felt flattered that he'd asked, and it was the least he could do considering how often he used the bookshop as a sanctuary.

"Then please, have a seat," said Mr. Pines, gesturing to one of the plush chairs near the fire. "I do appreciate the help."

Lex took the notebook and settled himself down. The fire was warm as usual and smelled especially nice today. "What's that scent from the fire, Mr. Pines?"

"Oh, I added dried herbs tonight. The weather has been gloomy, so I thought some nice calming herbs would improve the mood."

Lex took a deep breath. It was so relaxing in the bookshop, as though he could simply let his cares melt away. The notebook had beautiful creamy paper that was satisfying to touch, and Mr. Pines had written out his story in neat script that was easy to read. Before long, Lex was starting to be engrossed in it.

The story followed a vampire, alone and starving in the city after his sire had died, fighting his urges to drink from humans even as he was haunted by the threat of starvation. While it was a straightforward plot, the way it was written was riveting, as though he was actually there, experiencing the feelings of the vampire. At one point, he vaguely wondered how much time had passed, but he couldn't even bring himself to look away from the book long enough to check his watch.

The vampire was giving into his urges, now. He'd lured a young man from a cafe and was ensorcelling him, binding him to the vampire's will. The book described in loving detail how the young man began to succumb slowly but surely to the vampire's hypnotic spell... his mind dulling and slowing, his eyelids growing oh-so-heavy, helplessly getting sleepier and sleepier as the vampire pulled him deeper under his power...

Lex yawned. The descriptions of the young man getting so drowsy were starting to make him feel drowsy, too. The smell of the calming herbs and the pleasant heat of the fire were also lulling him asleep. He'd been here a while, he thought. He should check the time. But he wanted to keep reading.

The young man's eyes began to flutter closed against his will as the vampire drew him so close. "It's too late for you to fight," said the vampire in the story. "You belong to me."

"Yes... master..." said the poor human victim, his mind struggling against the words, trying to fight off the sleepy haze and escape. But it was no use -- the vampire had him utterly at his mercy.

The human's eyes shut tight as he swooned in the vampire's arms, exposing his tender neck for the monster to drink, to feed, to replenish himself off of the victim's life-force...

Lex startled awake. It wasn't as though the book was boring -- on the contrary, it was fascinating -- but the quiet, peaceful shop and the subject matter had him half-asleep. He wanted to finish the story, but he wasn't quite sure where he'd left off. Maybe he should reread the entire part of the vampire enthralling the human, just to make sure he hadn't missed anything...

"What are you doing to me?" said the human in the story. "I feel so strange... so sleepy..."

"Oh, you poor helpless soul," said the vampire, stroking his cheek and directing the human's gaze into his eyes. "You will sleep. You will obey. You will not resist."

Lex swallowed. He didn't understand why he felt so drawn to the victim in the story, why he wanted to be in his place. Why he wanted to read the passage over again. Why it was so hard to think of anything else. Surely that was an insane thought -- no one of sound mind would want to be captured and fed on by some supernatural monster.

"You're getting so sleepy, so helpless, so vulnerable," said the vampire, on Lex's fifth or sixth reread of the passage. 

The words blurred before his eyes. He was... he was so sleepy...

"Shhh, Lex," said a gentle, kind voice at his ear, as a hand tousled his hair. "You're so sleepy, aren't you?"

"Mr... Mr. Pines..." said Lex, so groggy, like he was trying to rouse himself from a deep slumber. "I'm -- your book --"

"So quiet, Lex. You're so very quiet, aren't you? So still and silent while you read."

Quiet... still... silent... yes, that was it... he'd always cherished the quiet...

"Your mind is so quiet. So utterly still. Falling asleep with a good book by the fire."

"Mmmm," he said, with a sleepy smile on his face.

"Let me take this," said Mr. Pines, removing the book from Lex's hands. "You're going to fall asleep now, Lex. And your mind is going to go completely quiet."

Lex didn't even register that something was wrong, that maybe he should resist. He felt completely at ease, peaceful and warm and comforted. As his drowsy eyes fluttered closed, a wool blanket was being wrapped around him, cocooning and immobilizing him. He was being picked up with a strength that may have worried him if his mind weren't falling asleep.

He didn't want to ask where he was going. He wanted to be quiet.

"Sleep, Lex. Sleep deeply in the dark and the silence."

Lex felt as if he were being gently rocked to sleep as he was carried, the creak of stairs giving the only indication of where he was being taken. 

He was set back down again in a few minutes. "You're going to be completely still, Lex. Completely asleep. You won't make a sound. You're going to feel a little pain, but it won't wake you up. And then you're going to drift even deeper asleep."

Lex may have nodded his assent if he weren't so still.

The blanket was being moved, his shirt unbuttoned and moved aside. Something sharp grazed his neck, and then punctured. And then he was falling, falling so deep asleep, so deeply drowsy and still and silent --

He flickered very briefly back into consciousness as he was set onto a bed, before sleep dragged him under once more.

Masterlist Next

I was happy with how this AU scenario turned out! There will be a part two.

@d-cs @latenightcupsofcoffee @thecyrulik @dismemberment-on-a-tuesday-night @wanderinggoblin @whumpyourdamnpears @only-shadows-dwell-where-we-are @pressedpenn @pigeonwhumps @amusedmuralist @xx-adam-xx @ivycloak @irregular-book @whumpsoda @mj-or-say10 @pokemaniacgemini @whumpshaped @whumpsday @morning-star-whump @shinyotachi @silly-scroimblo-skrunkl @steh-lar-uh-nuhs @pirefyrelight @theauthorintraining-blog @whump-me-all-night-long @anonfromcanada @typewrittenfangs @tessellated-sunl1ght @cleverinsidejoke @abirbable @ichorousambrosia @a-formless-entity @annablogsposts @ghost-whump

#whump #vampire #mind control #whump writing #whumpee #vampire whumper #rare bookseller #alexander #oliver #role reversal au #hypnosis #hypnotic induction

[misspearly1]

115 and 116 with joel bear? <3

Oh my Gosh! Nonnie, forgive me for how long I have taken to complete this. I'm working through my requests slowly. These prompts though?? 🥹 Oh so good for our beloved Joel bear! Thank you so much for sending this into my blog and I hope you enjoy the read. 💜

A Beautiful Thing

Pairing: Joel Miller x Y/N (F!Reader)

WC: 3.9K

Prompts: "You wrote me a song?" // "You weren't supposed to hear that!"

Warnings: 18+ Content. Minors DNI. Strangers to lovers. Love at first sight. Soft Joel playing the gee-tar. Joel being a tease. Reader worrying that she had ruined a surprise, but Joel making her feel better about it. Light Smut. Ass Groping & Kissing. Lots of Fluff with a Happy Ending.

Song Choice: It's Your Love by Tim McGraw - inspired this story, the title, and the song that Joel sings in this story. It doesn't belong to me, of course, but I'm stating that all credit goes to the original singers/songwriters just in case I need to.

AN: Ok, I was deep in the fluffy feels with this one Nonnie. There isn't any smut really - which is strange because I'm always a horny ass bish for Joel lol - but let me know if you'd like a part two with some smut. I'd love to come back to this story. 💖

You have a lot of good days and bad days here in Jackson. Everyone does. It’s just the way life goes, and although the scales sometimes tip too much on the bad side, it only makes you appreciate all the good that much more. 

Take today for example, you woke up bright and early, ate breakfast and felt energetic, then went out on patrol and came back to Jackson without a scratch before taking a shower for date night at your boyfriends house.

It doesn’t sound like much, but when the world went to shit and the chances of dying at any given second became higher than ever, then that is considered a really good day in your books. 

Besides, even if you did have a bad day, then what better way to turn it around than spending an evening with Joel Miller - your boyfriend - whom you deem to be the sexiest man alive?

You vividly remember how Joel took your breath away the first time you met him. Albeit, he was chopping wood under the summer sun with no shirt on in his backyard, but he was, and still is, the sexiest guy you’ve ever laid eyes on. 

This happened just over six months ago, and the only reason you were in his backyard in the first place was to ask for advice about carving a sculpture out of wood, but drooling over his half naked body is what you did instead for a few minutes before he noticed you were standing there.

The man caught you eyeing him up and down, and thankfully for your sake, he felt flattered rather than uncomfortable. You often think about that day and smile fondly at how he reacted to your mindless ogling. The way he blushed a little and softly chuckled never fades from your memory.

You apologised for the intrusion of course, and for staring at him too, then explained that you were there to seek his professional advice. He was a carpenter after all and you assumed he’d know how to help. The project you were working on at the time was a three foot wooden rabbit. You’ve always believed they brought good luck and wanted something decorative for your home.

Joel naturally took an interest in your project and instead of just giving you a short answer and a couple pointers, he offered you a seat on his back porch and gave some really helpful advice on what to do and what not to do. You sat with the man for twenty minutes and the conversation flowed like you were a friend to him, not a stranger. He really made you feel comfortable and welcome, even offered you a tall glass of lemonade with ice upon noticing you were burning up from the sun in the sky.

You accepted his offer, but later admitted that it was actually his voice causing you to burn up. Not only were you attracted to his looks, but you were attracted to that thick southern drawl of his too. He spoke with a pleasantly deep, yet equally soft and smooth tone, one that just captured your whole attention and drew you in.

Joel's company was captivating, and you hungrily wanted more of his attention, but even though he didn't give you any reason to end the conversation, you made an excuse to leave and let him get back to chopping wood. You didn’t want to leave so soon after meeting him, but you had already taken up too much of his time and thanked him before saying your goodbyes. His response however, was most surprising.

“Happy to help, darlin’,” is what he said to you, and the flirtatious wink he shot your way made you feel weak in the knees. It was a simple gesture, but he did it so smoothly and with a seductive smirk on his lips too that just made you all the more attracted to him. 

You left Joel that day, feeling giddy, turned on and a little lightheaded too, then planned to return three days later with a home baked cherry pie to say thanks for the help, but to your absolute surprise and delight, the man showed up at your door just as you had taken the pie out of your oven.

He wanted to see you again and had asked his brother where you live to show up at your door unannounced. You invited him into your home, shared that cherry pie over another captivating conversation and the rest was history. 

Six months later, here you are now; in a steady relationship with the man and your love for each other grows stronger everyday. You still drool over him and even consider it a hobby of yours to watch him work, especially when he’s in his workshop.

You like to be in his company and often just sit on the sofa with a book to read while he chips and chisels away at a block of wood, creating another masterpiece worthy of a place on display around his home. But more often than not, your book is abandoned as you choose to gaze upon him instead.

No matter how many times you’ve done it before, you never grow tired of admiring the way Joel looks while working. He has a little lamp in his desk, it’s dimly lit and casts a warm glow across his face which just highlights his rugged good looks in the very best way. 

The focus and patience he has with woodwork is quite impressive too. You love to see that look of concentration on his face. It’s the way his eyes glide across his sculpture and his brows furrow, or the way he sometimes presses the tip of his tongue against his lip. You don’t know why he does that, but it’s really cute and funny to see nonetheless. Suppose it’s just one of those things that some people do without realising it. 

While you often like to gaze at him in his workshop, he likes to gaze at you too, especially when dancing in the dark. It’s become something that you and Joel do almost every night. He waits till nightfall, when all the lights are off and you’re about to head upstairs to bed or say goodnight and head home. Spontaneously grabbing your hand, he’ll pull you toward his chest and sway to the sweet sound of silence, grinning brightly as you laugh with endearment.

Dancing in the dark. That was Joel’s thing. He started it, but it’s something you very quickly grew to love. Speaking of love, he often swears that your love does something to him while dancing in the dark with you. He’ll joke and say that he’s under a spell, but can’t get enough while looking into your eyes and brushing a piece of hair behind your ear to really drink in the sight of your face mere inches away from his. 

And you believe him. Believe every word of what he says. He certainly acts like he can’t get enough of your love as he finds any and all ways to adore you. “Darlin’, your love is a beautiful thing.” He’s said to you many times before in the past and you believe him, but you never forget to tell him that his love is also a beautiful thing as well. The man treasures you, thinks the world of you and keeps you close to his heart. Those feelings are mutual. You feel the same way as he does, and honestly, you can see yourself spending the rest of your days with Joel. 

Upon spending the last several minutes thinking about the man, the desire to be in his company was growing rapidly, thus making you pick up your pace to reach his house faster. He unfortunately lives on the other side of Jackson, therefore it takes a solid ten minutes to walk there depending on your speed. Usually, you just take a leisurely stroll, but tonight you’re feeling extra needy for his love and attention.

Approaching his front door with your own key in hand, a key that he gave you two weeks ago, you unlock the door and slip inside quietly without making any noise. Joel admitted that he would have given you a key to his home sooner, but he worried about how it would make you feel and assured you that the gesture doesn’t need to be reciprocated. He just didn’t want to rush you, or make you feel obligated in any way, but you wanted to. You wanted him to have access to your house like it was his second home, and so you took your spare key and gave it to him two weeks ago on that very same day. 

Truthfully, you like to spend most evenings over at Joel’s house compared to yours. You can’t describe it exactly, or pin-point the reason why, but his house just feels the right place to be. Despite that, he also has such great taste in decoration too. You admire the way he furnished his place. It looks better than yours and feels cosy, welcoming and relaxed. 

Since you could hear the familiar twang of his guitar upon entering his home, you guessed that he was out back on the porch. It’s one of two usual spots that he likes to sit and play till his heart's content. You love to listen to him, and considering you wanted to take him by surprise, you tip-toed your way into the kitchen and through the laundry room to listen at the back door. However, you didn’t recognise the tune. 

The song Joel was playing is something he hasn’t ever played before, but it started off with an acoustic that was warm and gentle. Just so soothing to the ears that you instantly relaxed as your face softened with a smile. You leaned against the doorframe and closed your eyes, listening to him harmonising with the melody that he had created. The sound of him humming was so peaceful that it could lull you to sleep right here, but then he started singing and your heart skipped a beat. 

“Dancing in the dark, middle of the night,” he says poetically, the lyrics of his song catching your attention right away, “Taking your heart, and holding it tight,” he continues and you continue to listen closely, “Emotional touch, touching my skin, and asking you to do what you’ve been doing all over again. Oh, it’s a beautiful thing,” you gasp, holding your hand over your mouth with tears welling up in the corners of your eyes. “Don’t think I can keep it all in. I just gotta let you know what it is that won’t let me go. It’s your love, it just does something to me.” 

You couldn’t believe what you were hearing. It was a complete shock to hear a song so moving and meaningful, and sung so beautifully by Joel that’s about you and your love. You had so much joy exploding inside of you that it was overwhelming, though he stopped abruptly and you peeped around the door to find him jotting words down on a little pocket pad - his song book. 

He looked so enthralled as he continued where he left off, his head bobbing along to the tune as he tapped his foot against the floor. You still couldn’t believe it and almost felt compelled to pinch your skin to check if this was all a dream. Joel rarely sings for you. He plays the guitar for you all the time, but to actually sing along to his music takes a lot of courage and just hearing him sing so passionately with confidence was sending shivers down your spine. 

His voice was transcendent and mesmerising, full of affection and romance. It made you feel like you were at the centre of his world, enveloped in the warmth of his love. Though, as much as you loved to hear the man sing, it didn’t feel right doing it this way. You were essentially eavesdropping on him at a time where he was most vulnerable, and it’s not fair.

He doesn’t know you’re standing just a few feet away, and what if that betrays his trust if he were to find out? Or worse, what if it destroys his confidence to ever sing in front of an audience? The worry of this possibility made up your mind. He can’t know you’re here. Not yet and not like this. 

Moving away from the door and quietly making your way towards the kitchen, your plan is to open the front door and shut it loud enough for him to hear. Then he will stop singing, hide his songbook and you can pretend that this never happened until he is ready to play his song for you. You could still hear him as you neared the front of the house, and the sound of his voice was as beautiful as ever. 

Upon reaching the front door, you opened it and shut it again before calling out for him like this was your first entry. “Hi baby!” You say excitedly, “I’m home.” 

The music stops instantly and it makes you stifle a laugh to hear him yell back like he wasn’t just singing his heart out. “Hey darlin’, I’m in the backyard,” I know that, you thought, “Come out here. I got somethin’ to show yer.” Oh shit… You panicked, wondering what he had to show you and if you have just spoiled your own surprise. What if he was going to play the song for me tonight anyway and I ruined it? You ask yourself with a pang of regret. 

You didn’t know what to think or what to expect when you approached the backdoor for a second time, but the smile on Joel’s face brought you some comfort and relief. After all, you were eager to see him tonight and are still very much hungry for his love and attention, but if you have ruined something special, then you at least hope some of the surprise can be salvaged. 

Hurrying towards him and taking a seat right on his lap, you held both your hands to each side of his face and leaned in to plant a kiss on his lips, displaying just how much you miss him. He kisses you back ravenously and smiles like he hadn’t seen you in days when it was only last night that you last saw each other. The fact that he missed you just as much made your heart swell. 

Naturally, he laid both hands to your ass with a groping squeeze, humming deeply into your mouth with satisfaction. You like when he holds onto your ass like this. It makes you feel adored and aroused. He breaks off to look at you, his smile slowly turning into a smirk as he whispers. “Hi, gorgeous” 

“Hey, stud,” you reply and mirror his smile, though your cheeks started to burn up under his wanton gaze. “How’s it going?” You ask upon recognising the playful mood he was in and return the gesture with your teasing tone of voice, “I see that you have your guitar out here. Playing for the stars again?" 

“Oh, you saw that, did you?” He chuckles with amusement, as if he were pleased with himself and you can tell that he’s up to something since he had that look in his eyes; it was just full of mischief. You looked at him suspiciously, your eyes narrowed as he continued to laugh. “Yeah, I have my guitar out here…” he slowly bit his lip, and he did it in such a sexually provocative manner that it made you clench around nothing. “I was singing a song.” 

“M-hm,” you roll your lips together and quickly gather that he’s onto you. That’s why he’s acting this way… He knows. “And um… What song were you singing?” You try to come across like you don’t have the slightest clue, as if you don’t already know he was singing. 

His chest swells with pride as he answers truthfully, “I was singing your song, babydoll.” 

“You wrote me a song?” You beam excitedly. Even though you already knew, it didn’t take away how incredibly special you feel upon hearing the man say those words himself. Perhaps some of his surprise for you was salvaged after all. You weren’t taken aback with shock, but you felt your stomach flutter and your heart begin to pick up speed once again. He still looked so happy too, and you could tell he was savouring the way you reacted.

“Yes darlin’. I wrote you a song and I was singing it just now, but-” he looks at you with accusatory eyes, “You weren’t supposed to hear that.” 

Now you were taken aback with shock, and he began to laugh at your reaction, the sound was sweet and authentic to your ears. It didn’t sound fake or full of mockery. He just sounded so amused and happy, really happy as a matter of fact, and he ran his hands up your back reassuringly. “You weren’t supposed to hear that yet,” he clarifies, and it gives you some comfort, “It’s ok that you did, and I appreciate that you tried to make it better by pretending you didn’t hear me.” 

“Fuck…” You sigh and shake your head, blaming yourself for ruining everything. “Did you know I was standing there the whole time?” You ask incredulously. 

“No, not quite, sweetheart.” He replies, thus causing you a great deal of confusion. If he didn’t know I was here, then how did he know I heard him singing? You wonder while he continues to smile and shake softly with a chuckling laughter escaping him. He’s too happy, and that look on his face spoke of pleasure. 

“Wanna take a wild guess as to how I knew?” He asks, then pauses briefly with one of his brows raised, as if giving you a chance to think about his question before answering. But you didn’t answer. You couldn't answer, so he did instead. “Since when do you come home and announce you're here?” 

“Oh my God, Joel,” you cry out with embarrassment. Burying your face into his neck and lamenting over your mistake, you could still feel him shaking ever so slightly as he continued to laugh at your failure. “Of course!” You moan into his shirt with a ghost of a smile on your lips. “How could I have been so stupid and forget about that. Of course you would know something was up.” 

“You’re not stupid at all. Don’t say that, babe,” he chides. Sliding his hand up your spine and cupping the back of your head, his embrace tightens a little as he plants a kiss in your hair, the action making you feel less disappointed with yourself. “I know you were thinking what’s best for me,” he says, hugging you closely, “And that’s something special right there, doll.” 

Tilting your head to rest your cheek against his neck, his words gave you even more relief and comfort, though the worry around fucking everything up still remained. You lift your head to look at him, expressing a look of regret in your eyes and ask: “When did you originally plan to play me the song?” You sigh, chewing on the inside of your lip with self-annoyance, “I just feel really bad, you know? Like I ruined something special you had planned to surprise me with.” 

“You didn’t ruin anything,” he promised. Shifting his position a little more to aid his comfort, he leans back and kicks his feet up onto the table before pulling you to sit directly over his crotch. The action was nothing out of the ordinary, he prefers you to sit like this as much as you do, but it made you gasp softly upon feeling his bulge press into your heat from below.

He heard the noise you made and recognised the way it made you feel, causing him to smirk before resting his hands to your ass once again. “I hadn’t decided when to play it for you,” he answers, shrugging. “I just couldn’t make up my mind… was overthinkin’ the how and when to do it, but I shoulda’ just played it for you a long time ago.” 

“Wait…” You tilt your head at him, confused, “What do you mean by a long time ago? How long have you been working on this?” 

He grins brightly, his cheeks starting to blush a little from your questions, but he had no problem in answering them truthfully. “Six months ago, right after I met you in our backyard,” he says, and it really takes your emotions on a rollercoaster ride as you don't know what to say or what to think. Though, your silence didn’t discourage him and he continued. “I knew you were different darlin’, and as soon as you left me, I couldn’t stop thinkin’ about yer,” your face burns with flattery as you absorb his compliments. “Couldn’t even get back to chopping wood. I was that head over heels for yer… So, I grabbed my guitar and started playing something I never played before.” 

“Really?” You manage to break your silence to ask.

“Really babydoll.” He responds with an affirmative nod. “The tune came first, but the lyrics came later and…” he pauses momentarily to brush your hair behind your ear and gaze into your eyes. “...That day I showed up at your door and we shared the cherry pie in your kitchen? That’s when I knew for sure you were different. I knew in my heart that you were something special, Y/N.” 

“Joel,” you blurt his name with an elevated tone in your voice, your smile displaying nothing but delight and rejoice. “Did I really make you fall that hard for me?” You cry out and laugh sweetly, as if you couldn’t believe him even though he’s just said it himself. He fell just as hard as you did the moment you laid your eyes upon him. The feeling was mutual. It always has been. 

“Yes ma’am, I did indeed,” he drawls thickly, the crows feets around his eyes deepening, “And showing up at your door unannounced was the first best decision I ever made in our relationship.” He details, though it piqued your interest and you had to ask: “If that was the first, then what was the second best decision you ever made?” 

Joel pulls you in, placing his lips to your cheek with a tickling kiss as he whispers teasingly. “I’m sure you can figure that one out,” he chuckles softly before peering into your eyes and holding your line of sight. You hear the way his breath hitches in his throat, see the way he looks at your lips and smiles, his eyes expanding with love and devotion. It’s the way he looks at you every night, and sure, you could figure out what the second best decision he ever made was, but you wanted to hear him say it himself. You wanted to hear him ask you that question. 

And not a second later, he did ask you that question, and your answer was an immediate yes.

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[resowrites]

Jurassic Park - drabble request (scheduled upload).

Summary: Henry’s parenting skills get a brush up…

Pairings: AU!Dad!Henry Cavill x Wife!OC/Reader

Warnings: fluff, parenting/family life, banter/British humour, pet names, dialogue heavy, nondescript OC body type/appearance, hastily written/lightly proofread.

WC: <600

A/N: Got a request for more dad!Henry fluff, not sure if it’s supposed to be based on my previous series or not but either way, thanks and please enjoy. **This is a scheduled upload, while all interactions continue to be appreciated, they can’t be responded too at this time.**

Remember, this is pure fiction (as in completely made up), and not in any way meant to reflect reality. My work must not be copied, reposted, or translated elsewhere. Gifs/pics not my own. I hope you all enjoy and thanks for visiting.

Jurassic Park - drabble request.

She'd just come down to fetch the new novel she'd hoped to read in the bath, when a commotion sounded from the other room. "MUMMMMMMMY!!!" She sighed, tucked the book under her arm, and headed for the kitchen.

"What? What's going on?" Their son Hal was sitting at the table with his arms crossed and a thoroughly annoyed look on his face. Henry's eyes batted from him, to her, and back again.

"Mummy, I let Daddy have little bite of To… to… cerpops," both adults bit back a smile, "cos you say it good to share. But Daddy ate the wing! How it sposed to fly now?!"

"It can still fly! Just in a circle--"

"Daddy, shush--"

"But it's not like I ate the head! If I did it wouldn't have been able to fly at all--"

"Daddy, be quiet! Then what happened, Hal?"

"I say 'naughty Daddy,' and he laugh!" Henry quickly looked down, only just disguising a giggle.

"How did that make you feel, darling?"

"Cross!"

"And Daddy, how do you feel?"

"Honestly? Still a bit hungry--"

"HENRY--"

"What?! Besides, I shared half my peas--"

"Did Daddy apologise, Hal?"

"I was about to!" But she looked straight into his eyes and he immediately fell silent. Henry turned towards their boy. "I'm really sorry, Hal. Sometimes Daddy gets greedy and eats what he's not supposed to. Can you forgive me?" Their son smiled and patted him on the arm.

"That's okay Daddy, sometimes I greedy too." Hal stood on his chair so he could lean in for a cuddle. She couldn't help but smile.

"Right, Henry One, Henry Two, can I go back upstairs now?!"

"No! Mummy stay and have ice cream!" She struggled to know how to respond when Henry got up from the table.

"Not tonight Hal, Mummy needs some time out--"

"But she no in trouble!" Both adults laughed.

"Of course, not! Mummy's just tired, she's been very busy and taken care of us all day." Hal thought for a moment.

"But who take care of Mummy?" Henry smiled as he lifted him onto the breakfast counter.

"We do! And that also means giving her a break when she needs one. Now, what flavour would you like?" He opened the freezer drawer and pulled out a tub of Neapolitan ice cream.

"Silly Daddy! Want them all!" She quickly took the tub from his hands.

"You can both have two scoops each--"

"That's not fair!" They chimed. She shot Henry an exasperated look.

"Hal, clear your plate for Daddy then go play with Copper and Kal. I'll be in with your ice cream in a minute." He sighed but did as he was told, getting kisses on the head from both of them as he plodded off to the living room.

"Don't think you're getting an extra scoop just for that…"

"As if that was my intention!" They smirked at each other. "And why am I always Henry Two if I'm your husband?!"

"Because Henry One happens to be our son! And just how many dinosaurs did you eat off his plate?"

"Just half a Tocerpops!" She gave him a knowing look. "… As well as a rogue Pterodactyl and a couple of T-Rexs." She rolled her eyes.

"God help me. And if you eat any of his ice cream as well, God help you." She put the lid back on the tub and made for the stairs.

"Hey, there's no need to take it with you--"

"Course there is, otherwise I'd get none!"

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#henry cavill #henry cavill fandom #henry cavill fanfiction #henry cavill x reader #dad!henry cavill

[ewanmitchellcrumbs]

I know you are tired of being reminded of the whole mess that’s been going on. I had no idea what was going on until foxyanon told me cause I asked. The shock that went through me when I was reading ems post. I was decent friends with bel and interacted a lot with her. Had no idea how vile those bloggers are, just damn right disgusting and rude. But I told em as well that I have nothing to do with what’s her face. I’m always here for you! This fandom needs some serious work done and rethinking. I’m screaming the biggest f you to her! I love your content even though I don’t say anything much. You’re wonderful and deserve better! 💗💗

Thank you for reaching out, and treating me like a human being. It is more than I currently deserve. I will place the rest of my response beneath a cut, as it will be quite long and I'd like to give people the option to scroll past, as they are doubtless tired of all of this, and rightly so.

Yes, the behaviour of that group is despicable, but I cannot downplay the gravity of my own in that.

I had a longstanding block with two users (I am not going to use their online nicknames, I do not deserve to), arcielee and sylasthegrim, I said disgusting things about both of them - the screenshots of my messages regarding them both on the post you have doubtless all seen are real (so is the final screenshot where I mention an anon I had received telling me to die in my sleep, the rest of the screenshots in that post have been falsified, doctored or snipped heavily out of context to make them appear hateful - the doctoring has been confirmed by two individuals well versed in Photoshop)

I hold my hands up and apologise to both those people, and the people that have seen those messages and been harmed by them. They are inexcusable, indefensible and were guided by a false belief that those two people were being hateful in turn about me, and actively going out of their way to harm and spite me. I am unsure what Bel thought she had to gain by exacerbating the animosity between me and Em and those two women, regardless, we should have done the mature thing and reached out directly to them. I will say, that I have never once sent anonymous hatred to either person. The extent of my vitriol was confined to that group chat.

Bel also used slurs in the group chat (I would like to point out that myself, Em and Fae did not). I won't repeat what these were. I do not want those ugly words on my page. They made me uncomfortable and I called her out any time she used one in particular, but she always laughed off my discomfort and carried on anyway. She is mixed race, I am white, in my mind it is not my place as a white person to tell an ethnic minority what is racism and what isn't. There are enough white voices shouting down others in online spaces. I know better now. I should not let my own discomfort silence me. I will call out hatred, bigotry and discrimination in every instance that I see it. My past inaction is embarrassing, it's offensive and I am devastated by the hurt I have caused to others. I am so deeply sorry.

I didn't speak up for a long time, because I have seen what these people are like when they have a grudge against someone. It's frightening, I was a coward. Yet despite staying silent on all of it, I have been doxxed just the same. I suppose perhaps that's karmic retribution?

I appreciate that people have felt my response has been lacking, however, I was out of the country, away from home, from the 14th until the 22nd, with only my phone at my disposal and with the expectation from my husband that I would enjoy the vacation we were on, and not be online dealing with all of this.

I would like the opportunity to atone for my behaviour, to make amends. Currently, I feel I am not going to be given the opportunity to do that, and understandably so. Emotions are high, people are raw from what they have learned and they do not feel comfortable being around me.

Seeing the screenshots of the people in their group passing around my personal photos and saying incredibly vile things about my appearance triggered a lapse with the eating disorder that I am in active recovery for. I then had another a few days later. I need to take some time away to get myself well, as the fear and anxiety of all of this is taking its toll. I also need the space to deal with the legal action I will be exploring with regards to Chris having doxxed me. I am not running away. I simply need to get myself into a space where I am stable enough to handle all of this, be accountable, and take responsibility without my own emotions diminishing other people's.

I know people hate me right now, but it pales in comparison to how much I hate myself. I am so very sorry for allowing this to happen.

#asked and answered

[missmaywemeetagain]

Pink Scarf - PART 16 (Elvis/Austin!Elvis x Reader)

Character/Fandom: Elvis - Elvis (2022)

Requested: kinda

(Read more here--Pink Scarf Series Masterlist!)

Prompt: You are part of Elvis Presley's coveted inner circle, and the currently-disgruntled wife of one of the members of Elvis' famous entourage, the Memphis Mafia. After Elvis' dynamite first performance in Vegas, you find yourself in deep water when his magnetism finally gets to you after all these years.  [ Fem!Reader ]

TW: Rough SEXXX. Restraints. ANGST. Cussing. Infidelity. Historical inaccuracies in the Vegas timeline. Priscilla doesn't exist in this timeline.  

Rating: Explicit/Mature (NSFW, 18+, so minors Do NOT Interact)        ||     Word Count: 7.2k

A/N: Woo, boy, y'all. Get yourselves ready, cuz the snowball is rollin' and the shit storm is comin'. This part is a little bit of everything--a little sweet, a little salty, a little smutty. It's what y'all deserve!

For the flashback, I had E's 1960 It Feels So Right playing in my head on repeat, so if you are one who likes music to set the mood, then you might give it a listen before/during/after you read that part!

As always, to all my babies, honeys, and lil' mamas supporting me out there, YOU ARE BEAUTIFUL and your reactions, reblogs, messages, asks, and comments you've given me have been a blessing beyond expression. You all are the best community a writer could ask for! Thank you so much for your support. I am loving getting to know y'all better! I love every single reaction and comment and ask, and I'm sorry if I don't get back to them all as soon as I'd like but know that I love you all and am so excited to be making new friends! And a big "Hey, Y'all!" to our friends from Elvis Twitter, Elvis Discord, and Elvis Instagram--I see and appreciate you coming over to join us! 👀💋

If you feel so moved, please let me know what you think or how you're feeling (or send me asks)! I think I put everyone on the taglist who requested it, but please let me know if there are any issues or if I missed anyone. There seem to be some issues with tagging that I can't seem to fix, so please know I'm not leaving you out intentionally! Also, if you comment on a previous part that you want to be tagged, I might not always see it, so feel free to message me if I miss you!

I imagined this with Elvis in mind, but Austin!Elvis works here, too, whatever floats your boat! 

Apologies in advance if there are any grammatical errors or TW that I didn't catch. 

(I did start cross-posting Pink Scarf to my long-neglected AO3 account (which some of you already discovered!), so if you are so inclined, you can check it out over there!)

Graceland, Christmas 1960

The mansion is finally quiet, or at least you’ve managed to find a quiet part of it in the midst of all the holiday revelry. Elvis loves Christmas, and this is his first one home in two years. And the first one without Gladys.

You had thought that maybe his grief would make the holiday a more solemn affair, but he’s gone in the opposite direction. It’s as though his loss has fueled him to make Christmas as joyful as humanly possible. Even though he’s been away filming for most of the month, he still directed the mansion should be decked out in all the Christmas finery for his return. And so it is.

You wish you were more in the spirit to enjoy it. Usually, you would be—Christmas is one of your favorite times of the year—but this year it sits heavy for you. Heavy because if all had gone well, you’d be sharing it with your newborn baby.

The thought brings you to tears again.

You’ve been hiding your grief as much as possible, sliding on a quaint smile, singing carols, and making cookies with the rest of them, but in these solitary moments, you grieve. You cannot help it. You know it’s futile and silly. How can you grieve someone who barely even existed, someone who was never born? And yet, here you are, alone, sitting in a quiet corner of the house at the piano, a couple of glasses too many of champagne in, being sad over what could have been.

So you begin to play. You know practically every carol and hymn by heart, so you just close your eyes and let the music take you away. It doesn’t erase your grief, but it does help you let it out in some way. You barely notice the tears rolling down your cheeks as you play Away In A Manger and What Child Is This?. You let the dramatic chords of O Holy Night linger in the air at the push of the pedals.

And after a bit of playing, that image of a baby in your arms feels fuzzy and faraway. Or maybe that’s the champagne. Maybe it’s both.

The air shifts. You notice it but play on anyway. You’re not sure how, but you are able to sense him, his presence, his essence, as it pushes in around you. But he remains quiet, and your eyes remain closed as your hands continue to fly over the keys.

Elvis does not interrupt, he only watches. You’re not sure why. You feel as though he barely speaks to you anymore. Yes, he is away and busy and all the usual excuses. But he used to seek you out when he returned. He’d bring you silly little trinkets and sing to you and tell you stupid, off-color jokes.

Now, since that horrible day in March, it’s as though an invisible wall has come between you two, and you don’t understand why. It’s nothing overt—he treats you kindly in the group and doesn’t outwardly ignore you. But something significant has changed, you swear it. Perhaps it is your ultimate failure as a woman that has turned him away. Or maybe with the explosion of his stardom since returning from Germany, he just doesn’t have time for you anymore. Maybe it has nothing to do with you at all; maybe he’s just a different man now.

Your tears of grief now include the loss of him, too. Losing your friend is heartbreaking in its own right, much less coupled with the loss of your child, of your fertility. It doesn’t help that Jack has been gone with Elvis on his travels and feels distant, too. You’d initially thought the space would be good for you two, but instead you just feel achingly lonely.

God, you wish you’d never been pregnant at all, as all it seemed to bring you is heartache.

You stop playing and open your eyes. The room is dim, lit only by one of the many Christmas trees in the house, but when you turn towards the door, Elvis is still there, his blue eyes shining with emotion as he leans in the doorway. The man looks ready to weep, which takes you by surprise, as he’s only shown enthusiasm and excitement since being home. You recognize the look though: it’s grief and melancholy, similar to your own.

Then Elvis looks at you unabashedly for a moment, almost like he is really, truly seeing you for the first time in months. The air sits heavy and silent. You don’t bother wiping the tears off your cheeks, though your heart races a bit. Must be the champagne, you think. It certainly isn’t the way he is looking at you now, how you are being laid bare and vulnerable by his intense gaze.

Something builds between you, though you are not exactly sure what, and he suddenly straightens and crosses the room to you. He towers over you now at the end of the piano bench and an overwhelming need to be near him comes over you. It’s as though you are both magnetized to each other, so when he holds out his hand, you cannot help but take it. The warmth of his hand surrounds yours as he pulls you up and into his waiting arms.

You fold into him, your arms tucked into your chest and your head buried into his collarbone as he wraps his arms around you. His spicy, distinct scent surrounds you and his warmth engulfs you and you cannot help the sob that escapes you at the comfort of it.

Elvis holds you close and lets you cry, and you feel his chest shudder and his breath hitch as though he is as emotional as you are. His mother, you think; he’s been hiding his grief as you’ve been hiding yours. You can feel the wetness of his tears against your temple as they run down his face and onto yours, and this prompts you to unfold your arms and wrap them around his torso, comforting him as he is comforting you.

He sways you, moving to the unheard music you assume is always playing in his mind, and pressed against him like this, you can feel the quick and steady beat of his heart pounding in his chest. You don’t remember the last time you were this close to him. He feels bigger, broader than the boy who went to Germany, but is no less Elvis. His sensitive spirit is the same after all.

You are not sure how long you sway there, crying in each other’s arms at your respective losses. But you know it’s more than just that. You know because as your tears start to ebb and you move back the slightest bit, he grabs your hand and pulls you in close, unwilling to part with you. He dances with you now, slowly pulling you back into his silent rhythm.

And you let him. You let his hand clasp yours and he draws it over his heart, holding it there. His heart beats quicker, you think. It’s too intimate now, the way his warm, damp cheek presses to yours, the saltiness of your tears mixing and binding your grief together. The air shifts again, still heavy and thick, but with a million unsaid words hanging there in the silence.

Your heart skips, flutters, and your breath catches. You’re not exactly sure what is happening. But you still let him hold you and sway you in slow circles. His hand splays hot on your lower back, burning through you, setting your body aflame in a way you don’t understand.

But you are a few glasses in and on a roller coaster of emotion and right now the feel of his strong, lean body pressed against yours makes you feel alive in a certain kind of way. You’ve been lonely and you’ve missed him more than you thought. It’s almost as if this is a silent plea for forgiveness from him.

Yes, that’s all it is.

You feel hyperaware of him and his closeness, so when Elvis nuzzles his head against the side of yours, you feel breathless. Your mouth pops open with a puff which, considering his proximity, he must feel, but he does not stop, and you cannot help the way you return the gesture in kind.

His breath is warm in your ear, and you can feel the softness of his lips brush against it, sending a decidedly inappropriate cascade of shivers dancing through you.

Oh, god.

Involuntarily, your hand contracts in his, your nails scraping lightly at his button-down shirt. Elvis presses your palm down onto his heart in response. You feel out of control, completely at his mercy, knowing this is too much, too close, too intimate but you can’t seem to stop, intoxicated by his strength, his affection, his essence.

Elvis’ still-damp cheek lingers against your own, and he presses his forehead gently to yours with a soft sigh. Then he pulls back slowly, just far enough to look at you, and you feel knocked over by his pure beauty. Honestly, you feel absolutely heady as you threaten to tip over and lose yourself in those churning, deep blue eyes of his. And, boy, they are churning, with things you can’t quite grasp. You watch as they search your face, his impossibly long lashes punctuating their every slow move. Holding your breath, your heart speeds up ever faster, and you wonder what it is he seeks in you.  

Your sadness and grief feel far away now as he plunders your soul, his gaze so alluring that you cannot even begin to piece through what is going on in any sort of logical way. You don’t understand any of it. All you know is you want more, and that feels forbidden in every way.

As if reading your thoughts somehow, his lips part. His eyes flutter down your face and land at your mouth. A shock runs through you as you think Elvis just might kiss you, and that terrifies you, not just because it would be crossing a line but because in this moment you want him to.

You want to feel his lips soft and sweet against you, then crushing into you. You want his body passionately pressed into yours as you cling to each other in the sparkling light of the Christmas tree. You want his large hands roaming your curves. You want to feel the strands of his dark hair between your fingers as you tug him closer. You want him to make you forget everything but the taste and feel of him.

These wants flash through you in an instant, shocking your system because he is so close that you almost can taste him and panic shoots through you. Never have you let your thoughts truly drift to that place with him, and opening that door feels very dangerous. Suddenly, with a wave of absolute certainty, an intuition you cannot explain at all exclaims that Elvis wants you more than anything in this world.

And that makes you gasp and pull away.

That cannot possibly be true. Nothing about the way he’s acted this past year supports that but something inside you screams that it’s real. It makes no sense. None of it makes any sense.

Elvis blinks and shakes his head as though snapping himself out of a daze. His hand falls from your waist, the spell broken. The soulful look in his eyes flashes with what almost seems like hurt, then apology, then regret. Without a single word, he turns and leaves.

Your heart plummets for reasons you don’t understand.

You must be confused. You are drunk. You are emotional. You couldn’t possibly have read the situation correctly. And yet the feelings awakened in your body surprise you and the look in his eyes haunts you as you sink back onto the piano bench, left alone in the silence.

*

Your eyes pop open at the memory. You had been very drunk that night and hadn’t remembered that moment until this very minute, yet another hidden facet of your long and suddenly complex relationship with your friend making itself known. Elvis had continued to keep his distance from you after that Christmas and had never even alluded to such an intimate moment happening, so you’d had no reason to think anything strange had happened at all. In hindsight, it seems awfully significant and feels like yet another thing he’s keeping from you.

Running it through your mind again, you swear he’d almost kissed you that night or at least had wanted to, which is shocking to you because 1960 was a long time ago. Still more shocking was that certainty you’d had about him wanting you more than anything, which couldn’t possibly be true.

Could it?

You shake off the thought. Emotions were high for both of you that night, and he obviously had thought better of it, but still…that prickle at the back of your mind keeps gnawing at you, those pieces of the puzzle attempting to slot into place. Maybe if you weren’t so damn tired and emotionally spent, you’d be able to figure out what your mind is trying to tell you. Maybe if your body wasn’t still aching with the memory of losing your child and almost dying, you’d be able to think clearly.

And your conversation with Sandy also sits uneasily in your mind. Running away ain’t gonna solve anything, her voice echoes in your head. You wish you had the strength she hoped you did, the strength to tell Jack to fuck off, to tell Elvis how you really feel, but it all feels so overwhelmingly insurmountable that you can barely even entertain the thought.

Heart pounding and wheels turning, you know sleep is out of the question and sit up in the bed. You get up and busy yourself instead. You feel as though you are racing the clock. It doesn’t take long to pack your bag, and while you are not frantic, you are determined. Mentally, you are ready to go. You have to go.

Unfortunately, things are not working out as you hoped they would. When the concierge calls you back with your fight arrangements, he informs you that there are no flights out of Vegas until 7:30am tomorrow morning. It being a Sunday night and with such short notice, there were no seats headed back east to be had. You thank him and reply that of course the morning flight would be acceptable before you set the receiver back on the hook and let out an aggravated scream.

You need out now. You are half inclined to rent a car and drive back to Memphis, but you know that is a terrible idea for a variety of reasons, namely being that you had no idea how to get to Memphis from here and being alone on the road for so long with no preparation sounded dangerous.

Fine, you think, I can make it through the night. I should tell Elvis in person anyway.

The thought makes your stomach churn because you know he will not be happy with this development. You’d rather not see the look on his face, but you also know it is the right thing to do. You just need to steel yourself to see your decision through and not be swayed by his charms.

Easier said than done.

And it doesn’t help that you are running on fumes and adrenaline. With everything that happened last night, the only sleep you’ve had was on the roof and that was short-lived and filled with nightmares. You took a shower after getting back to the room, but your mind is spinning too much to sleep, plagued with returning memories and creeping doubt.

You decide to get ready for the show as originally planned. It’ll be easier to gain access to Elvis between shows to talk if you do so. You dress accordingly, carefully putting on your makeup and doing your hair up nicely to give yourself as much confidence as possible. After repacking your toiletries, you grab your clutch and see the silky pink scarf folded neatly inside.

It takes only a moment for you to decide to put it around your neck. It’ll guarantee that Elvis will make time to see you, and you try not to shiver at the fact that the last time you wore this scarf, it led to a decidedly different outcome than it will tonight. The thought sends both warmth to your core and dread into your heart. You don’t want to leave him.

But I have to.

You shift your thoughts instead to Red, wondering and fearing whatever he might have planned. You don’t know if he is planning to sit on the information he gleaned from your leaving Elvis’ suite this morning, or if he is looking to cause mayhem immediately, though considering Jack has not burst in angrily, you don’t think anything has been said yet.

Either way, you have to warn E, and you have to get the hell out before the shit hits the fan.

The afternoon quickly turns to evening, and you pump yourself up on the way downstairs, despite the nausea in your stomach, the exhaustion in your body, and the ache in your heart. Now that you are somewhat a part of the show, it is easy to get backstage, and while you’re not sure how you are going to be able to wait the few hours the show will take, you continually remind yourself that this is what you must do. You have no choice.

But I do, I do have a choice, a pesky little voice chimes in. Stay.

Shut up.

By the time Elvis makes his way backstage, you feel like you’re about to jump out of your skin. The way his bright eyes light up when he sees you and then how they flash heat when he sees the pink silk knotted around your neck fills you with both desire and anxiety. Being near him weakens your resolve because his charismatic energy rolls over you even from this distance, and he just looks so damn good in that white suit of his, but you knew that this would test you. You force what you hope is a normal a smile, but you see a look of confusion flash over his pretty face before his usual pre-show nerves take over. But he does not come over to you, for which you are grateful.

The show begins with the usual fanfare, and you are surprised that even with everything going on in your head (or perhaps because of it), you still get swept up in the music, still sing the parts quietly that you have so diligently practiced. Regret hits you from another angle, one you did not anticipate. In leaving Vegas, you’ll also be leaving this—the show, the music.

Doubt creeps in in earnest throughout the show, putting your nerves even more on edge. You don’t really want to leave this opportunity, but the problem is you don’t think you have the fortitude to stay and to be able to resist Elvis.

The curtain closes and Elvis is surrounded, soaked with sweat, riding that post-show high that makes him nearly glow from the inside out. He wipes his face with the towel someone has draped over him, and you watch as he pulls Jerry aside with a glint in his eye, presumably to arrange your meet with him. But Jerry leans back and whispers something into E’s ear and that handsome face clouds with dark emotion. Then Elvis finds you past the crowd and his eyes lock on and you know. You know he knows by the hurt and angry look in his piercing blue eyes.

Sandy.

Goddammit.

As Elvis stalks over to you, pushing through musicians and instruments, it’s evident that Sandy has betrayed you. She told Jerry. And whether she meant for him to tell Elvis, you do not know, but your heart speeds up as Elvis crosses the backstage area in long, quick strides, with a wounded and feral look in his eyes that frightens you. It is not at all the same as the jealousy from the night prior; no, this is damage done on another scale.

You cannot help but back up as he approaches, nearly falling back over your chair, but he is on you in an instant, grabbing your arm firmly with one hand and your waist with the other, seemingly uncaring of the confused looks of his entourage that has been left behind so uncharacteristically. Luckily, Jack is nowhere to been seen, but you catch Red’s smirk before Elvis manhandles you into the hallway.

He doesn’t speak, not yet, though you see his brewing temper play over his face. Your heart drops because it is so obvious how you’ve truly hurt him, and he practically carries you back to the dressing room so quickly that you barely have time to register what that means. Once inside, he releases you and you tumble forward before he slams the door with too much force and flicks the lock.

As you straighten, you attempt to brace yourself for what you think you know is coming. Your nerves are on pins and needles, and you can’t help the lightheaded feeling that comes over you as you watch him fume. His chest heaves with both the exertion from his performance and his building fury, which makes for a dangerous combination.

You realize too late that perhaps you didn’t think this through.

“Is it true?” Elvis growls, rounding on you. “Are you trying to leave?” The pain is palpable in his stormy eyes and is layered with indignation.

The words catch in your throat. You finally force yourself to nod, attempting to find your voice in the meantime.

“What the fuck, y/n? What the fuck do you think you’re doin’?” his voice raises, as he paces the room like a caged animal. His eyes are icy now, glaring at you in such a way that you feel it to your toes. His white suit clings to him with the moisture of his sweat, which gleams off his tan skin, distracting you.

You finally find your voice. “I’m leaving, Elvis. For my sake and for yours,” you breathe out. Your heart threatens to shatter at the words.

“The fuck you are,” he flips back at you.

“Excuse me?” you huff.

“You ain’t goin’ nowhere, honey,” he points at you sternly.

“That’s not up to you,” you sputter, blinking rapidly.

“The hell it ain’t,” he glares.

Elvis’ eyes flash and he advances towards you. Your heart thunders in your ears and you counter backwards until he has your back against the wall. He grabs your chin with his hand, his rings cutting into you.

“I thought I fucked some sense into you last night, but it seems I fucked it out of you instead,” he purrs dark and low, but it is laced with threat.

You hold back a groan at his words. The sound of his voice and the look on his gorgeous face as he rakes his eyes over you sends both dread and heat through you all at once. You should have known he’d put up a fight. This is why you’d wanted to leave right away. Resisting him feels insane and futile.  

“E, Red knows. He caught me coming out of your room this morning, and I just know he’s gonna make trouble,” you ramble out, trying to skirt around him. He boxes you in with his arms.

“Fuck Red. I’ll take care of him,” Elvis spits, eyes flashing but barely giving it a second thought because his sole focus is you. Then you see him eyeing his scarf around your neck. Wordlessly, slowly, he unties it, his calloused fingers brushing the skin of your neck and making you shiver. “Now tell me why you’re really leavin’, honey,” he commands, but the lilt in pitch betrays his sensitivity to those who know him well enough. And you do.

Oh, god, the way his smokey eyes bore into you, intoxicate you, has you frozen and your mouth dry. All the words you prepared to say are gone in an instant. You can’t tell him everything (you can’t), but his hurt and his need to dominate you because of it drives his actions, and you know he won’t stop until he gets what he wants.

“Hmm,” he shakes his head, a darkness overcoming him. “Guess I gotta find another way to get it out of you. Give me your hands,” he orders. You are caught in his gaze and feel powerless to deny him. Begrudgingly, you obey, holding out your hands.

You watch as he ties one end of the silky scarf to your left wrist. It’s tight, but not uncomfortable. Your brow furrows in confusion as he pulls your arms up, and it is then that you notice the bar, which must be used as a clothing rack, attached to the wall above your head.

Your eyes widen and your heart thunders in your chest. “Elvis, what’re you doing?” you squeak out as he wraps the scarf over the bar and attaches it tightly to your other wrist. Your arms are loose and your feet remain planted on the floor, as the bar is not that high up, but you are effectively trapped.

“Well, honey, you keep tryin’ to run away from me and I need answers,” he glowers, amusement playing under his anger.

“Goddammit, this isn’t funny, let me go!” you say shrilly, yanking your arms but only succeeding in making the scarf tighter around your wrists.

“No, you’re right, it ain’t funny at all. Were you just gonna steal away in the dead of night without talkin’ to me?” he asks, the hurt back in his voice.

“No, I…no, that’s not what I wanted…” But it is almost what you did, and he seems to know it.

His eyes flash with realization at your unspoken words, then narrow as he moves closer. You look away, shamed. He grabs your chin again, his rings cold against your skin, and forces you to look at him.

“You are all I’ve been able to concentrate on, ya know that? You’re all I fuckin’ think about. I want you. I want you to be with me. Be with me.” He says it like a pleading promise and a stark demand all at once.

Oh, Jesus, it makes you ache for him in every way. You can feel your resolve crumbling around you, all your reasons for leaving melting into a puddle at your feet.

“We can’t Elvis. We can’t keep doing this. I’m losing my mind,” you say but Elvis has his head buried in your neck now, his lips and tongue dragging across your skin and setting your entire body aflame. Resisting him is like resisting gravity—an impossible feat.

“Why would you do this to me, lil’ mama?” he whispers in your ear, his hand brushing away your hair so his breath tickles against you. The sensation immediately has your body at attention, like a switch has been flipped. Your nerves tingle, your nipples stand at attention with just the temptation of that raspy baritone.

Despite yourself, despite the angel on your shoulder screaming at you, once again, that this is a bad idea, your mouth pops open with a sigh. His other hand cups your cheek as his lips travel over your face, so close that those long, dark lashes brush against you in their wake. This sends another thrill of sensation through you.

It’s agonizing that you can’t touch him, which you know is exactly the point.

Elvis presses you against the wall, and his thumb is dragging slowly over your bottom lip. It takes everything you have to not disintegrate right there and then. The way he makes you feel—it’s like you have no sense of reality when around him like this. He is your drug of choice. And you keep coming back to him again and again.

“Tell me why you don’t want me,” he asks in a boyish whisper, his bedroom eyes deadly serious, filled with anger and hurt and need and lust. All for you. Only Elvis could look so entirely innocent and completely sinful all at once.

His words cut you, as you think he intended. You wish you could make him understand, but your breathing is fast, too fast. You are dizzy from the scent of him, all sweat and musk. He’s dripping with it. Your eyes roll back.

“Dammit, E, of course I want you,” you breathe, “but when we get caught, which we are seconds away from, I’m the one who’s life blows up. I’m the one who’ll have to face the consequences. It all comes back on me, and…I don’t have anything without Jack.” You can’t let yourself forget it.

The way Elvis looks at you now is fierce. He grabs both of your cheeks roughly, his hands like fire against them.

“Baby, you have me, you’ll always have me. You’re mine, and I’m yours, and I’ll take care of you, no matter what happens.”

The sentiment hits you sideways, flooring you. He’s staring at you so intensely you feel completely gone, weak. There is nothing else but him.

“Let me take care of you,” he breathes seductively, nuzzling your nose. “Let me be your everything.”

Oh, sweet lord…

“Elvis…” His name escapes you like a hushed prayer. You are defenseless against him, your heart fluttering like the wings of a hummingbird, stealing your breath away completely.

The temptation of what he is saying is so strong that you want to give in to him immediately. It’s almost everything you want to hear, which is the problem. You think he’ll say anything to get what he wants. You love him, but you know he’s a master at manipulation—it’s how he’s so damn good at his craft. It’s how he so effectively hypnotizes the masses. You think half the time he doesn’t even realize what’s he’s doing, but knowing him as you do, you know he is too shrewd for ignorance.

But part of you refuses to believe him, what he’s saying, even now. Part of you is still reeling from the pain and the fear of your recently uncovered memories. And the fact is, he is still hiding things from you, and you are still married to Jack.

Elvis bows his head, his soft lips now mere millimeters from yours, his hot breath mingling with the heat of your own. But he does not close the gap. He’s waiting, waiting for you to decide. He’s impatient, nearly shaking with anticipation.

You came here to end it, you did (didn’t I?), but he’s like the sun, pulling you into his orbit. Desperate, you find your voice, doing your best to be strong.

“Elvis, I am still married. You know as well as I do how complicated it is with Jack, and he’s not going to take kindly to this when he finds out. And he will. We both know he will. He’s your friend. You can’t have it both ways, and neither can I. But I can’t be near you without wanting you, so something’s gotta give. That’s why I have to go. That, and all the secrets, the lies…It’s tearing me apart inside,” you plead with him. And I know you’re keeping something from me, but those words don’t make it out of your mouth.

His brow furrows and you can practically see the wheels turning in his head. Then something significant shifts, that dark look clouding his eyes once more.

“Jack ain’t shit. Fuck him. And, baby, I’ll tear your marriage to shreds and throw it in the trash, just like that,” Elvis snarls, snapping his fingers in your face, his endless eyes burning into yours. His vehemence has you shaking, your eyes going big. “I don’t care what I have to do or who I have to pay off. I thought I told you, honey—I always get what I want, and I think I’ve made it quite fuckin’ clear who I want.”

Holy shit.

A shocked beat, your breath held in a pause before it quickens again. Elvis is choosing you over Jack. Elvis wants you to end your marriage for him (or more accurately, wants to end it for you). This means that he is much more serious about this, about you, than you thought. Your heart plummets into your stomach and warmth blossoms over your body. You are both elated and terrified by what he is asking of you. All words escape you.

“Still need a little more convincing, huh?” His lip curls into a smirk, sending a coil of desire into your belly. Pushing you up against the wall, he grinds his hips into you, your arms straining against their bonds. You know now that this is his way, his way of proving to you the truth of his words. A whimper escapes your lips, causing him to grin even more. He has you right where he wants you, which is infuriating and exhilarating.

Elvis gets close, his full lips so tantalizingly near that you can almost taste their pillowy sweetness, but he still does not kiss you, only tempts you as his breath blends with yours. As much as you want to, you do not submit, you do not close the gap, your stubbornness and lingering doubt dampening your near-consuming desire.

All your churning emotions of the past few days keep you silent. Confusion, fear, anger, shock, love—all of it only fuels your passion for him, a love so consuming it eats you alive. But you also don’t want him to have the satisfaction of you giving into him. He’s right: he does usually get what he wants, but that doesn’t mean you have to make it easy on him.

Elvis watches your reaction carefully as he yanks your dress up over your hips. Then he groans, a deep, carnal sound as he grinds into you once more, his arousal evident and the metal of his ornate belt biting against your pelvis. You bite your lip to keep from making the noises that threaten to escape you, but your breathing is starting to become even more labored. There is an element of calculated control in his flaming eyes, combined with power and need. He doesn’t let you look away.

Elvis grabs the back of one of your thighs, pulling it up to his hip, running his hand over your bare flesh from your knee up to your panties, his fingers dancing just under the elastic. You hold back the hiss that wants to escape you. God, you want to touch him, to claw at his bare chest, but the scarf holds you fast and you grip its strong silk for dear life.

When he lets go just long enough to pull the zipper of his fly, pulling out his cock, your eyes widen, then fall closed. You feel as he tugs your underwear to the side, his fingers swiping through your folds. You bite your lip at the feel of his fingers prodding at you so roughly. But with your churning emotions desperately trying to keep your desire at bay, you are not nearly wet enough to take him yet.

“Look at me,” he demands, and you do. You are powerless not to.

Reaching his hand up, he looks you right in the eye as he spits in it, then reaches down to cover his cock, lubricating it fully. You gulp. A shiver of anticipation races down your spine. Taking a long moment to gather more saliva, he spits in his hand again before snaking it between your thighs to smear your pussy with it, watching your reaction carefully. You can’t help but moan at the sensation of the warm slick.

True to his word, nothing stops him from taking what he wants as he brusquely lifts your legs around his waist and enters you with a quick, hard thrust and a deep grunt.

You gasp loudly at how Elvis fills you so completely, both with surprise and with pain of the pleasurable sort. You are so tight, too tight, and while your arousal pools, it has not yet coated your walls, making his saliva the only lubrication to ease the friction. You claw at the silk scarf, trying to push back against the wall in retreat, but he chases you, pausing for only a moment as you attempt to adjust to him. He starts rocking into you, but his thrusts are not gentle—they are powerful, claiming. You continue to hold back the noises that want to escape your mouth, unwilling to give him the satisfaction of hearing your pleasure.

“Why ya gotta be so fuckin’ stubborn, baby? You really makin’ me take you this damn hard to remind ya just who ya belong to?” he growls seductively into your ear as he drives into you harder. Your head falls back onto the wall and your eyes flutter. This shouldn’t be so satisfying, but you can’t deny how it makes you feel, how he makes you feel. Your arousal pools around him at his words, at his audacity, and it gives you away as he slides more easily in and out of you. Then that damn lip of his dares to curl up again into a knowing smile.

His baritone rumbles in your ear as he fucks you more vigorously, each thrust punctuating his words, as if driving them deeply into your body and mind. “I’m not lettin’ you outta my sight after this little stunt of yours, honey, not for one damn minute. In fact,” he chuckles darkly, “you’re going on stage with me for the rest of my shows, starting tonight. Your debut performance.”

You can’t hold back your choked gasp at that.

“You’re all mine now.” Elvis’ hand comes up and wraps around your throat, just tight enough to let you know he means it. “Now, be a good girl and say it for me.”

Your brain fights against him—possession is not love! Sex is not love! it screams at you—and you don’t want to give him this, but you know the truth of it: you are his. You’ve been his for a while now. And you relish in it. You want so desperately for it to be more than that, but you are too weary of denying yourself of the obvious.

“I’m…y-yours,” you gasp out. He fucks it out of you.

The corner of his mouth briefly lifts in satisfaction before returning to his relentless railing of you and his ongoing, heated diatribe: “You’ll stay in my room, my bed, and we’ll fuck whenever we damn please, honey. I don’t care who fuckin’ knows. Let Jack try and come for you…see what happens,” he threatens, grunting as his thrusts become more erratic.

You don’t even recognize the moan that comes from you at that. The fact that he will take Jack head on for you sends an inexplicable rush through your system. The coil in your belly tightens rapidly now, but Elvis is too far ahead of you, too consumed with his lust and his need to claim you as his own.

“Tell me you’ll stay,” he says in your ear. It comes out more needy, breathless, pleading, than you think he intended, which tugs at your heart, telling you what you need to know, at least for now.

You have no choice, not anymore. Neither your heart nor Elvis’ will allow it.

“I’ll stay,” you whisper, finally conceding.

“There’s my girl,” he groans, then plunges in so deep and fast that the wind is knocked out of you. You both cry out as he pulses again and again, filling and coating you with his need, his teeth digging into your shoulder as he climaxes.

You both gasp for breath, him from his release, you from the shock of his words as they settle within you. After a moment of recovery, he unceremoniously pulls out of you, sets you gently back on the ground, and unties your hands. Your legs feel wobbly and your hands tingle with a burning sensation, rubbed a little raw at the wrists. Elvis kisses each wrist softly, making that unrelieved coil in your belly cinch even tighter as he wraps the scarf around your neck. You wince at the pins and needles in your arms as you shake them to regain circulation.

You wait to see what he has in store for you next, but he just looks a little jaded, uncharacteristically making no effort to alleviate your need. He turns and walks all the way back into the bathroom, and you follow silently.

You look at him questioningly in the mirror as he cleans off, that coil in your belly poised and ready, but unfed. He’s never left you unsatisfied before. But you also don’t want to push him right now. Things still feel too tenuous.

He finally acknowledges you in the mirror, looking over your mussed and flustered state and immediately gleaning the reason for your hovering. “Honey…I’ll deal with you later,” Elvis tuts in a reprimanding tone, his left eyebrow raising, his blues still chilly towards you.

He’s being petty, but you suppose you deserve that to an extent. You resist the urge to pout, instead choosing to wrap your arms around his waist from behind, pressing against the sweaty heat of his back. You want him to forgive you, want to be in his warmth, want him to love you as you love him. But for now, you’ll accept the relief of not having to leave him.

Let me take care of you…Let me be your everything.

The memory of his words sends warmth radiating through your chest, even if he just said it to get you to stay. Even if he didn’t really mean it.

“I’m sorry,” you say quietly. And you are.

Elvis doesn’t move for a moment, just letting you cling to him. Then he turns, bringing you close, and he finally kisses you, his pliant lips pressing hard and fierce and wanting against yours.

“Don’t ever try to leave me like that again, baby,” he says, pulling away, looking deeply into your eyes. He is trying, you think, to be as possessive and demanding as before, but the edge of his anger has been tempered, quelled, and has turned into something more imploring. Then, with that quintessentially Elvispuppy-dog look on his face, he blinks slowly and quietly adds, “I need you,” as though just realizing it himself.

And, with that, you realize for the first time that despite all your doubts, despite what he is hiding from you, despite every obstacle that wants to pile against you, the shitstorm that is coming is still going to hit hard, but it will hit you two together.

*

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[artist-issues]

Hi. I hope you're doing well. I wanted to let you know that your story analysis and whatnot goes hard. I've been enjoying going through your posts, especially in regards to receiving your insight on Disney related things. I also like that your Christian lens brings a very specific view to the table. I find it valuable, even as I recognize where I disagree with you.

Reading some of your thoughts though, I came across one post where you said something that greatly intrigued me. You said that, "homosexuality is a sin that is only destructive when it isn't submitted to Christ."

What would it mean to you to submit it to Christ in this context? Especially regarding how that would work with homosexuals such as myself. My own religious background hasn't given me the lens to fully understand the language that you used, and I'd appreciate further insight for better understanding.

In either case, I would like to thank you for your time in reading this, and hope you have a good one.

Wow, this is an incredible ask. Thank you for sending it, and being so kind and respectful. I will be honest: I don't remember which of my posts that's from, so I might get the context of what I meant there wrong. But I know that the Bible is consistent, so I'm not worried about trying to make what I believe on the topic clear!

I don't know your "religious background" and in our current culture it's not always effective to assume that what I mean when I use a word is the same as what you understand when I use that word. But the Lord'll make up for that,

So here goes!

People have been born with desires that are twisted (think like a spine that has vertebrae out of place, not "twisted" as in "I'm insulting you.") since mankind fell. Some of those desires are for power, some are for gratification of a sexual impulse, some are for selfish comforts, etc.

I think what I meant this: Homosexuality is not special or especially impossible to pop back into place; it is one in a list of twisted desires. And when you decide "no, I'm not in charge of my life—the God who made me is in charge of it, and if He says something in me is out of place, He's right, AND what's more, He can put it back together. I identify as His much-loved creation: I do not identify with the parts of me that are out of place/I do not identify as my homosexual desires." That would be submission.

I didn't make that up, and neither did any religion. God did. It's in the Bible:

"Or do you not know that the unrighteous will not inherit the kingdom of God? Do not be deceived; neither the sexually immoral, nor idolaters, nor adulterers, nor effeminate, nor homosexuals, nor thieves, nor the greedy, nor drunkards, nor revolvers, nor swindlers, will inherit the kingdom of God." (See, it's in a list of twisted desires/actions/sins that people identify with.)

But then the next part is:

"And such were some of you: but you were washed, but you were sanctified, but you were justified in the name of the Lord Jesus Christ and in the Spirit of God." I added emphasis for clarity's sake, but see? Such were some of you--Christians. People who are called righteous by God, were once "homosexuals—people who identify with their unrighteous desires." But then they submitted those desires to be washed, and took on the name of Christ, instead of the name of "homosexual," or the name of anything else, for that matter.

If you're interested in reading more of my philosophy, or what I meant after hearing that:

God did make you for love. Love isn't wrong. Like how a toymaker made a little tin soldier to bring joy to children. It's natural and right for you to desire sexual intimacy and unconditional-selfless-acceptance from another person. You're supposed to desire that—the same way a sentient tin soldier might be "supposed to desire" being played with.

But, when mankind fell, they fell because they decided they wanted to be God. They wanted to pick what was right, and wrong, and good, and bad, for themselves. But that whole goal was a lie: it was never even an option. But we reached for what wasn't there anyway. And as a result, all of humanity's desires got corrupted.

So now that desire for love that the human being was made to have, and made to feel fulfilled by the God that loves them perfectly, is twisted up. It's corrupted. Suddenly you don't want love the way you were designed to have it; you want something that doesn't exist (because God gets to decide what "love", is, too, He invented it,) and doesn't fit.

See, that original desire is still there, and that's why it feels so confusing to be told "what you love is wrong" because you feel like it's such an integral part of you—and it is. But it's just twisted up. You weren't meant to love the same gender, or someone abusive, or any of the counterfeits. That "love" part of you was meant to love God, (and if another God-loving person of the opposite gender can enhance your love for God, to include them in that in this beautiful harmony.) But that part of you's twisted up. So it's still trying to beat, but it's to all the wrong rhythms.

It would be like the little sentient tin soldier suddenly deciding he should be a real soldier and fight the Revolutionary war. He thinks "I feel brave, I was built with a sword, I should do this." But he wasn't made to use it like that, so no wonder his toy sword immediately gets smashed in a real fight.

But then it gets worse. He doesn't go back to the toymaker and say "you were right, I was never made for this, and now I'm battered and broken and I can't do what I was actually made for—no child will find enjoyment in a shattered toy." He doesn't do that. Instead, he just keeps hopping into battle, poking feet with his bent-up toy sword and getting ground into the mud.

If the toy soldier would just go back to its maker and say "you were right, and I don't deserve it, but only you can help me" the Toymaker would straighten the sword. Shine him up. Give him a new coat of paint—and even better, he would give the toy soldier an add-on to his original purpose—he'd give him hands big enough to hold the tools that fix other toys. Now the toy soldier has new life in the purpose that he was made to be satisfied by, AND he can help other toys who lost their way, too.

That's what Christian's call "The Gospel." That's Jesus' sacrifice on the cross: the toy soldier got what he wanted and deserved to be left in the mud, but instead the Toymaker took what he deserved, and gave him new life.

But it took that submission, first. The toy soldier might still look fondly at real soldiers and might even have the feeling, as the Toymaker is still cleaning him up, that he might want to go back and be a real soldier again. But that's the thing: the Toymaker's changing his desires back to the way they were before he ever reached for the thing he wasn't made for, too.

Anyway, I don't know if that janky little analogy helped. I know our two worldviews are really embattled right now—they have to be, because they are opposites—but you asked so kindly, and I appreciate it. "Such were some of you"—such was I. I was you. Now I'm in Christ. You can be, too; you were made to be. But all that to say, I'm not judging you—because such was I, and such would I be if not for Him.

#Christianity #my one comfort both in life and death #Christ #Jesus Christ #homosexuality #Christians #asked #answered

[notsoattractivearenti]

Wherever You Are | Part 2 (Mason Mount x Reader)

Word Count: 2.2K

Warnings: curse words, mentions of alcohol, angst

A/N: I didn't even intend to make this a 2-part series but since some of you asked for part 2, here you go! Special thanks to @ariddletobesolved for proofreading this fic ❤️ Also since Y/N is from London, I wanted to make the experience more authentic (I did some research) so I used British English here – but if I misspelled any words don't hesitate to correct me! If you enjoy it I'd love to hear from y'all through reblog/reply/ask 😄🫶 Feedbacks would be appreciated! Before reading this make sure you've read part 1 🤍

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It’s been 8 months since you moved to New York. 8 whole months since the last time you saw Mason. Your heart ached from loving and missing him a lot, and you tried so hard to bury your pain deep through work. You did regret breaking up with him but you knew it was for the best, or at least you think it was...

It was December, meaning Christmas was near and at that time you hadn’t decided whether you should stay in NYC or go back home to London. You still weren't sure if you were going to get days off during Christmas and New Year.

You just got back to your apartment when you got a call from your mum. You grabbed your Airpods from your purse, put them on and picked up the phone. 

“Hi Mum! You’re still up? I thought you were already asleep.” 

“Hi sweetie! I miss you, so I want to call you before going to bed. How was work?” 

“Eh, the usual. But a little bit busier because it’s holiday season but nothing new really. How are you?” 

“I’m good, now better ‘cause I’m talking to you. Speaking of holidays, will you come home this Christmas? I know you just moved months ago and maybe you want to spend your first Christmas in New York, but we would love to have you here with us!”

“Oh Mum, you know I want to... But I can’t give you the exact answer right now since I still don’t know if I have to work on Christmas day. I will let you know once it’s clear, okay?”

“Alright! Hope you will come home sweetie. We all miss you here. But we’re so proud of you!”

“Thank you Mum, you’re the best! Now please go to bed, it’s midnight there isn’t it? We’ll talk again later!”

 “Okay, okay, I’m going. Good night, love you Y/N!”

“Sleep well Mum, I love you!” 

You hung up the phone, and out of nowhere you found yourself staring at Mason’s contact on your phone. You were about to click on his contact to call him, but backed out because you knew it was midnight in London and you didn’t want to bother him, even though you weren’t sure if he was already asleep or still out somewhere. 

The next day, everyone at the office including you received a memo that said during Christmas and New Year, employees from certain divisions got 2-week off starting next week, including the division you currently work under. You felt happy and relieved once you read the memo, knowing that you got to go back to London for a while to finally spend time with your family and friends. Not only that, you were thinking about how you might have the chance to see Mason, even as friends... You were so excited, you booked a return ticket to London right away. Later that day, you called your mum and told her about your plan, and she was thrilled to have her daughter for Christmas. You also told your best friend about it, and they already begged you to have a night out with them the day you arrived, but you told them you’d go out the day after instead because you were aware you might have jet lag due to the time difference.

---

A week passed, and the day you’d been waiting for finally came. You just couldn’t wait to see everyone back home. Barely a year had passed, yet you had missed London so much. You were really excited to be back home even just for two weeks. Before you moved away, you were living with Mason for 2 years, now that you two had broken up, you stayed at your parents’ house.

Arriving at Heathrow, you waited for your dad to pick you up. As minutes passed, your mind drifted back to the last time you were there. Back then, you had Mason dropping you off and it was one of the worst days of your life because of the break-up. You wanted to pretend you were okay, but you couldn’t. Your eyes started tearing up and your excitement began to subside as sadness and regret filled you instead. Tears were streaming down your face, and you immediately grabbed a tissue from your pocket to wipe those tears away. You didn’t want your dad to see you like this, so you opened your phone and looked for funny videos to lighten up your mood.

It didn’t take long until you saw your dad’s car pull over, before he got out to help you with your luggage. As you waved at him, you tried to force a smile, not wanting him to see you sad.

“Hello my beautiful hardworking New Yorker! I’ve missed you so much, sweetie,” he said as he gave you a hug.

“Hi Dad, I’ve missed you a lot too. So happy to finally see you in person,” you replied.

He could hear the quaver in your voice and he instantly knew you were upset, assuming it was because of Mason. “Y/N, are you okay? You’ve been thinking of Mason, haven’t you?”

“Is it that obvious? Shit, sorry Dad. I just couldn’t get him out of my head. The last time I was here, I broke up with him.” You paused to calm yourself down. “But you know what? We don’t have to talk about that... I’ll be okay, Dad.”

He looked at you with a gentle smile, rubbing your back and nodding. “Okay, but if you do want to talk about it don’t hesitate. Your mum and I are here for you.”

You smiled at him, “I know. Thanks, Dad.” Right after, your dad took your luggage and put it in the boot while you got in the car, sitting at the passenger’s seat. 

Once you arrived at your parents’ house, you quickly got out of the car when you saw your mum already waiting for you. She was standing at the front door, waving at you as she came over to give you a hug.

“Y/N! I’m so happy you’re here! How was your flight?”

“It was exhausting but worth it, Mum. I’m happy to see you!” 

“Let’s go inside, I’ve made you some pasta in case you’re hungry,” she said to you as she pulled you hand and took you inside the house.

After a late lunch with your parents, you went to your room to unpack and rest. You were really tired, so once you got everything unpacked, you finally laid down on your bed. Since you are the only child and there was only one spare room in your parents’ house, it was really quiet, completely the opposite of your everyday situation in NYC—that city truly never sleeps. 

You took your phone out of your pocket, unlocked it and went straight to contact. You wanted to text Mason to let him know you were in London, but you chickened out. “What if he doesn’t give a damn?” you thought to yourself. So instead of sending him a text, you texted your friend instead to give them – as they liked to call it – a life update. Feeling tired, you fell asleep for hours.

---

The next day, you spent most of the day with your parents. They asked you so many questions about your job and your life in NYC, and most of those questions were pretty overwhelming to you but you answered them anyway. 

“So, does Mason know you’re here?” asked your mum. 

Your heart stopped. You just froze the moment you heard your mum mentioned his name. You had no idea how to react – it was a simple question but to you it was a lot more complicated. 

“Y/N are you okay? Did I say something wrong? I’m so sorry!” Your mum was startled when saw your reaction. 

“Uh...” You got tongue-tied. Fuck, why can’t I say anything?

“It’s okay, sweetie. You don’t have to say anything.” Your dad was trying to comfort you because he knew how hurtful it was to you when his name came up.

You were quivering, still very much broken-hearted by your own decision. “It’s, uh... okay. I just, um... I, uh, haven’t... Haven’t talked to Mase since, uh... Since we broke up.”

“Oh, baby I’m so sorry,” as your mum hugged you, “we’re not going to ask about him again. Y/N, we love you. We know it’s hard, but you should know we are here for you.”

You were trying so hard to hold your tears. “Thanks Mum, Dad. I’ll be okay.” 

---

Later that night, you had your friend picking you up for the planned night out. After going through an emotional day, you knew you needed to go somewhere to refresh and ease the emotional pain. They took you to your favourite restaurant for dinner, before you both went to your usual pub. 

“Oh man, you don’t know how much I needed a fucking drink! Y/F/N you’re a fucking godsend!” You sounded a little tipsy since you had two glasses of wine at dinner, then one – almost two ­– pints of beer at the pub, but you couldn’t care less.

“Okay, whoa, slow down Y/N. I know you’re hurting but please don’t drink too much,” as Y/F/N pulled your glass, “you know you will puke a lot and I don’t want to see that.”

“You know, Mason used to say that too. But every time I puked he always took care of me no matter how drunk he was too. God, I wonder how he’s doing right fucking now.”

“Uh, Y/N?” Y/F/N paused for a second, “Mason’s here.”

You were stunned, you couldn’t believe what you heard. Damn it, he can’t see me like this!

“Okay Y/N, stop drinking and calm down. I think he won’t see us.” Suddenly, you see Y/F/N’s eyes widened. “Oh shit, I think he just saw me. Fuck, sorry Y/N. He’s definitely coming over here.” 

“Y/F/N! Hi!” You heard Mason loud and clear as he walked towards your table. You didn’t know what to do so you just sat there, hoping you wouldn’t do anything weird.

“Hi Mason... Uh, this is awkward,” said Y/F/N as they looked at you.

“Y/N? You’re... here?” Mason’s tone changed the moment he realised you were there. “When did you uh, when did you... When?”

“Um... Yesterday.” You tried to be calm and not sounding tipsy. “Hi, Mase.” You looked at him and all you could think about was how handsome he looked. 

“Oh wow, I uh, I didn’t know. Sorry I’m just... I didn’t expect to see you tonight,” he said nervously.

You couldn’t stare at him for too long, so you looked down most of the time. You wanted to tell him how you feel but you didn’t know what could’ve happened if you did it – you were afraid you were going to hurt both of you again. So instead of saying anything, you just smiled at him.

“Masey? Baby where do you want to sit? I got our beers,” you heard a girl calling Mason. Baby? Why would she call him that? Is he... Seeing someone?

“Coming, sweetheart,” he replied to the girl, “Y/F/N, Y/N, it was nice seeing you both. I got to get back to my girlfriend...” he paused, “Y/N, I’m so sorry. I hope we can still be friends...”

You could feel your heart breaking way worse than before. At that moment you just knew, you had lost your chance to be with the love of your life. You’d lost him forever. You could have had him, but you blew it. Tears began to fill your eyes, but you didn’t want to break down in front of him. So you tried to act like you were okay, that you had accepted the fact that he is with someone new, even though you were nowhere near okay.

“No need to be sorry, Mase. Of course we can stay friends. I’m happy for you. You deserve happiness. I hope she makes you feel loved,” you said as you smiled at him, trying to cover your pain.

Mason nodded and smiled back at you. He tapped your shoulder before he left, “See you around, Y/N.”

You watched as he walked away, feeling numb, thinking about how lucky his girl is to have someone like Mason in her life. You knew that because you had him for 4 years. It was the best 4 years of your life and you would do anything to get it back, but you knew you couldn’t. You meant it when you said he deserves happiness, with or without you. You made a mistake, and you had to deal with the consequences. Even though it hurt deeply, at least you had found closure. You didn’t have to wonder about you and him anymore, and it was clear that you had to move on. 

“Y/N... I’m so sorry. I love you, and you know you have a shoulder to lean on,” said Y/F/N as they held your hands, giving them a little squeeze of reassurance that you needed.

“Thank you, but I’ll be fine Y/F/N. I’ve said it a million times, but this time I mean it.” Your heart ached with sadness, but still you tried to be strong. “It’s time for me to move on, no matter how long it will take.”

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