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#five other plot points to get to 💀

spdrwdw · 1 month

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hi! I saw ur post abt accidentally deleting reqs and was scared since mine wasn’t answered yet (im not complaining bc ur other work is so so delicious to read 😍) anyways here it is. Ok imagine Miguel ohara being the heir to the mafia ‘throne(?)’ ima be so fr idk what they call it 💀 anyways and he’s in an arranged marriage w/ a girl from a diff mafia family as a way to make peace between the two families, except neither he or the girl are happy abt it. Enemies to lovers would just be majestic for the plot in my opinion 🤭. Anywaysssss thank u sm and remember to drink water 🫶🏻

Art by: Kimmy_art0912 Pairing: Mob Boss Miguel x Wife reader Warnings: Mentions of blood, very mild violence, no use of y/n Summary: You and Miguel come from different mafia families, forced to be married in order to form an alliance as threat from an outside. However, you and Miguel can only tolerate each other, at best. A/N: I swear I scratched and rewrote this like five different times.I am sorry it took so long. I am slowly making my way back into writing. I do thank anon and everyone else for their patience as I slowly make my way back to life and I will be writing more Miguel fics soon. I may do a part two to this, depending on interest recieved. I have been getting into mafia books so I am going to be looking into those for inspo if I do make more parts to this. Also, very very light editing was done. Word Count: 4.6k

Your family and the O’Hara’s have been enemies since your ancestors set foot into this country. Both immigrating from nothing but the clothes on their backs and pennies to their name.

Your family started working in the food industry. Working in restaurants, bakeries, etc. Anything that had to do with food. Seven days a week. Working from twelve to fourteen hour shifts just to make ends meet. Your great great grandfather worked at the local deli as well as a restaurant. When he wasn’t cutting up meat, he was in the kitchen making food. Your great great grandmother worked at the neighborhood bakery as well as the tailors. Her dream was to make clothes- dresses. She wanted to be a fashion designer. She started taking classes at the local college once they saved up enough money to invest in her studies.

Eventually, with their hard work and sacrifices, their dreams came true. Your family soon owned several restaurants as well as luxury boutiques. Everyone did their part in keeping the family businesses growing and going.

At first, it was all simply honest work. Your family stayed humble and grateful for their dedication. Then, with your great grandfather, things took a slight turn. He wanted to expand and turn into construction. Nueva York continued to go and grow, with more people coming to try to make a living and a name for themselves. And in that mix, people with bad intentions also tagged along. The family businesses were in jeopardy of being taken over or shut down completely by these power-hungry thugs. He did not want that. So, he and the rest of the family banded together and began hiring people who would be willing to work for them and protect them, whether they were military vets, criminals, or even cops. Anyone who was willing to protect the family.

Allyship with other mafia families also aided in the growth and protection. However, there was one family that yours always butted heads with.

The O’Haras. They immigrated from Ireland around the same time your great great grandparents did. They built their own businesses, casinos, hotels, and clubs- and wanted their own power and a spot with the elites of the criminal world.

At first, things were neutral between the two families. At one point, the two families were almost allies. However, one night, there was commotion going on at one of the O’Hara nightclubs. Members of your family got into a tussle with the O’Hara group and ended up being a blood bath, with both sides losing men.

Ever since then, things were tense, and the bloodshed continued to grow as oppositions rose.

No one really knew what it was that started the feud that night. Some suspected it had been over a woman. Others thought it was simply because some members were drunk and careless words were exchanged.

Either way, the rivalry continued on. Until a new threat entered the city. And there was no choice but to come together.

—

It’s been six months since you moved into his house. Six months since you lost your freedom. Six months since you got married. To Miguel O’Hara.

It all happened in an instant. First, you were out abroad, having recently gotten your first major job as a fashion designer in a luxury clothing company, wanting to be as successful as your great great grandmother, and now you were out on a little vacation to celebrate, when you received a call from your father, ordering you to come back home.

You should’ve relished that Mediterranean breeze as long as you could, because once you got on that flight back home, your world was about to be flipped on its head.

“I’m sorry…WHAT?!” You screeched at your father, you only looked at you with his calm, cool, distant, expression as he inhaled into his cigar.

“You’re getting married to Miguel O’Hara,” he repeated.

“I heard what you said! But, why?!”

“The O’Haras had agreed to a truce. Kingpin is gaining on both of our families. We are losing men and traction left and right. We agreed by aligning our families together, we will gain strength in numbers and influence.”

“And you are shipping me off into an arranged marriage! This isn’t the medieval age or whatever!

Plus, with Miguel?! At least have me marry Gabriel. He’s not an asshole like his brother.”

“Miguel is to become head of the O’Hara family as he is the first born. Plus, his determination has been promising.”

You let out a groan. You could not believe this was happening. You never wanted to get sucked into this life. That’s why you went off to college. To try to get away and make a life of your own. Your efforts were proven to be futile as you felt the rug be pulled from under you and you were being dragged along with it to the same life you were trying to escape.

Your father’s eyes softened. A hint of sorrow filled them.

“I know, sweetheart. This isn’t what I was hoping for you, either. But, it is the only way. We are running out of options. I am sure Miguel will take care of you, and you will be able to fulfill your dream of following your great great grandmother’s footsteps. I am sure she would be proud to have someone actively expanding her fashion legacy..”

You still shook your head. It was just too much for you to take in. Plus, wasn’t Miguel in a relationship with someone? Xina? No..they broke up months ago. That’s right. But, wait..he was seeing someone else? Ugh. The guy has a new girlfriend every other day.

Besides, you two did have a thing going on in the past. It wasn’t serious. Mainly the occasional hookups. You two were of rivaling families, after all. You both did have your reasons for disliking each other. So, the sex was pretty much hate sex? If that made sense. It wasn’t out of passion. Unless you could call hatred a passion.

Never did you think you’d actually be getting married to him.

After the news broke out that you and Miguel were to be wedded, everything went by in such a blur. Preparations for the wedding. The actual wedding. The honeymoon- which was hardly a honeymoon because neither of you actually spent any time together. It was just too awkward, and you knew that he wasn’t happy with this arrangement as much as you were.

When you first moved into his house, you wanted to sleep in a separate room from him, and he agreed. However, when both of your parents found out about this, they were all livid.

“How will you two get to know each other more and become intimate with each other if you are sleeping in separate beds?” Your mom cried one day when she came to visit you. You assured her there would be other situations where you and your husband would bond. Public situations where you’d be surrounded by other people and talking to those people rather than each other.

You two simply avoided each other as much as possible. And during the times when you two were together, your company was either met with silence or bickering. And sometimes even being at each other’s throats.

He would call you names like ‘immature’ ‘wild’ ‘rowdy’ and so on, simply because you refused to listen to him whenever he demanded something from you.

You’d retaliate and tell him that he was controlling and a perfectionist. Because well, he was. He had to have things done a certain way or it would ensue chaos. And while he was right about you being a little more rowdy and wild, it was simply because you had the luxury of growing somewhat more normal. Your parents did not drill the life of the mafia into your head the same way it was drilled into Miguel’s. Which is why you both clashed when trying to communicate with each other.

Right now, you were at home in the library. You spend a lot of time there, and while Miguel’s taste in reading wasn’t usually to your taste, you’d sometimes find yourself reading some of the novels that he was currently reading, as well as reading some that you’ve been purchasing and adding to the collection.

Which reminded you, you had to head over to the mall and purchase the next book of a spicy romance series you’d been reading. As well as look for an outfit to wear at the next charity event you and Miguel would be attending.

One of the few things you liked about Miguel was that he was very generous and active in the community, helping those less fortunate.

Placing the book down, you rubbed your bag and keys and decided to head out for a bit. Saying goodbye to the house staff as you walked past them, you made your way to the garage, which housed Miguel’s collection of cars, ranging from vintage to sporty and modern to big black suvs that you’d use whenever a bodyguard was transporting you somewhere, like parties. You never understood why someone needed so many cars but, whatever, as long as it wasn’t your money being spent.

You made your way over to your car, glad that you were able to bring it with you when you got married. It was your baby. One of the few things you were able to bring with you.

Glancing over at the clock on the dashboard, you bit your bottom lip. You should have enough time to purchase some books before heading off to your parents for a bit. You did promise them you would show up. They were planning lunch for you. It was your birthday today, after all.

—

Miguel stood in front of the battered man that kneeled before him, hearing the groaning of pain coming from their mouth as blood pooled around the cement floor.

Miguel’s knuckles were bleeding. But, it wasn’t his own blood, but the blood of the poor bastard that withered before him. Miguel didn’t like to use violence. He thought it was a primitive way of negotiating with his enemies. However, there were times when a little violence was necessary to get his point across. And to send a message.

Why was this man being battered like a sack of potatoes?

The man spat blood, a tooth or two flying out with the glob of blood as he remained strapped to his chair. His face was covered in blood. Beat up and mangled by the hands of the tall, brooding man before him.

Miguel slowly knelt down before the man, taking a fistful of his hair, forcing him to look up into his almost amber eyes.

“ Eres un demonio! (You're a demon). Not even the devil himself will want you!” the man spat, a glob of blood landing on Miguel’s cheek.

Miguel let out a hum of disinterest. His eyes lacked any life in them. However, this was when he felt the most alive, seeing his enemies cowering and crumbling before him.

He took out a handkerchief from his breast pocket and cleaned the blood from his cheek before tossing the now soiled material at the man’s feet.

“I take that as a compliment, you know. Maybe I want the devil himself to fear me.”

Miguel took out a cigar from his coat pocket and lit it before giving it a deep inhale and exhaled a heavy cloud of smoke at the man’s face. He couldn't believe that one of Kingpin's goons had infiltrated his circle and posed himself as someone who could've been trusted. Miguel was definitely going to send that fat son of a bitch a message, by killing this guy and sending his corpse back to Kingpin's front door.

Not only that, but it also meant that they were going to have to redo background checks on everyone working for the O’Haras. That was going to be a pain in the ass.

"Gabriel! Hand me my gun," Miguel called out to his brother.

Gabriel, Peter, and Ben were all standing several feet behind Miguel, all watching as their boss beat and battered the man before them.

Gabriel was Miguel’s right hand now that their father had stepped down as head of the O’Hara family. Many thought Gabriel was going to take charge, however, Miguel was much more brutal and cut-throat than Gabriel. It made sense for Miguel to take up the mantle, despite him being an illegitimate son.

Plus, Gabriel preferred being on the sidelines instead of making the decisions.

Gabriel made his way over to his older brother, handing him the gun before stepping back to his original spot.

“Now. We can do this the easy way. Where I ask you a couple of questions and answer them. Or, we can do this the hard way, when I ask you said questions and if you refuse to answer them, I get to shoot you anywhere I want.”

”I would rather you just shoot me! I will never answer to you!” The man croaked.

“You never got shot before, have you?” Miguel hummed as he removed the safety from the gun and cocked it before pulling the trigger, shooting the man on the foot.

The man let out a screeching howl as he thrashed on the chair, letting out a series of curses.

Miguel simply nodded his head. “That’s what I thought. So..shall we begin?”

The whole ordeal took only a matter of minutes, as Miguel wasted no time in trying to get his questions answered. The man was not sitting lifeless on the chair as bullet holes decorated his body.

Kingpin had sent a lower ranked grunt to spy on them, trying to scope up any valuable information to report back to his true boss. Unfortunately for Kingpin, those in the lower ranks didn’t really get to be part of the action and behind-closed door discussions, so, this man’s life was unnecessarily wasted.

“Send his body back to Kingpin. Just leave him on his doorstep,” Miguel said as he examined his suit, letting out a grunt when he saw small splatters of blood. He was going to have to go home and change. “Will do. You should start heading back home. I am sure you wife is waiting for you,” Gabriel said as Peter and Ben began placing the body into a black body bag and carried him out to the waiting pick-up truck.

Miguel pinched the bridge of his nose. He didn’t hate you, but he knew that you hated him. And you had every right. You got married to him out of force, and while that wasn’t necessarily his fault, he didn’t blame you for holding a grudge on him.

“Keep me posted on any activity. I need updated background checks on everyone working for us. We can’t let anyone else slip through the cracks,” Miguel stated as he made his way over to his car, with his brother following behind him. Gabriel nodded his head as he watched his brother leave.

He had to make sure no on in his inner circle was actually working for Kingpin. Is someone indeed was, might as well just shut everything down then and there.

No. Miguel wouldn’t give up just like that. He would just have to work harder and steer Kingpin off track.

But, for the time being, his main goal was to get back home and get to his wife. It was your birthday, after all.

–

You spent the majority of the day with your parents. You had gone over to your former home- which you still miss deeply. It was such a stark contrast from where you lived now. There was just so much character, so much history in this house. It was the same house your great great grandfather had bought as a gift to his lovely wife, your great great grandmother, once their businesses were booming.

It had twelve bedrooms and sixteen bathrooms. A library where your mother would take you to read. When you were young, you’d pick out a book for your mother to read to you in bed. Mainly a fairy tale story.

You always thought your life would be a fairy tale. You always imagined yourself as the princess or heroine, going on adventures and falling in love. However, the universe was not like those in the stories. Maybe in an alternate universe. But, not in this one.

Instead, you were forced to marry the enemy in hopes of forming an alliance. Which, depending on how you looked at it, could’ve been seen as a fairytale. It didn’t feel like it. You weren’t in love with Miguel. You tolerated each other at best. Plus, you guys had shared history which made things pretty awkward at times.

—-

You were back home, waiting for your darling husband to come home and wish you a Happy Birthday. He also supposedly promised to take you out to dinner. It was really an attempt for you two to get somewhat closer together. But, you weren’t sure how well that would play out. You both liked to push each other’s buttons. You were sure it would occur tonight. And honestly, you wouldn’t want to have it any other way. You wanted to be a thorn on his side. He was always so full of himself. Always thought himself to be this bigshot. Untouchable. Unweavered. You loved proving him wrong.

You continued to wait and wait. The house staff had left for the night, including Miss Cheryl, your personally favorite housekeeper. She was an older woman, possibly in her mid-fifties. You never cared to ask her- mainly because you didn’t want to be rude and you actually liked her.

Looking up at the clock in Miguel’s office, you saw that it was already seven thirty in the evening. Reservations were supposedly made for eight. Miguel had thirty minutes to get there.

A part of you didn’t really care if he had forgotten or just waved it off. You didn’t want to force yourself to be nice with him, because who knew, you might just throw a glass of wine at him just as you did during your wedding reception.

You could hear a chime coming from the Alexa that rested on Miguel’s desk, signaling that someone had entered the house.

Finally. You honestly thought he wasn’t going to come.

Raising from his chair, you decided to go ahead and greet your husband.

He was making his way upstairs as you made your way down the hallway, both of you making eye contact.

“You’re late. I thought you weren’t going to come,” you said, crossing your arms over your chest.

As Miguel stepped closer, you could notice blood splattered on his white shirt.

“I know. Let me get changed real quick,” he replied as he walked past you.

You knew Miguel had a way of dealing with those who wronged him. You have seen his blood-stained knuckles, bloodied shirts and a dangerous look in his eyes. It’s pretty much like in the movies. Some poor unlucky soul gets tortured to death by the boss or someone higher up. You’d like to think that Miguel isn’t simply killing people just because of blood-lust. While it wasn’t your business to judge, you didn’t want to be married to someone who is a little too eager to get blood on his hands.

You made your way to his room, standing by the door as you watched Miguel slip on a fresh pair of pants and button-up shirt, something more suitable for dinner. Once he was finished, he took another look at you, furrowing his brows a bit.

“What?” You questioned.

“What are you wearing?”

“What do you mean ‘what are you wearing’?” You asked, looking down at your dress.

“Don’t you think that’s too revealing?” He asked.

“What? Revealing? Where? Don’t tell me showing a little leg and shoulder is prohibited. Come on! This is the height of fashion right now, as well as demonstrating body positivity.” Miguel simply gave you a look as if in disgust. Not for the body positivity part. But rather your fashion choices. He was aware of your family’s success in the fashion industry. He even applauded it. But, he was also a man with much simpler tastes. Tastes that you would sometimes groan over.

“Well, I’m not changing, so let’s just get going,” you said as you grabbed a shawl to compliment your dress, and to shut Miguel up.

The ride to the restaurant was quiet, save for the music that was playing on the radio. You two had very different music tastes. Not surprising. Sometimes you’d change the station or hook up your phone to Bluetooth. But, you tried to sit back and let him listen to his music this time.

When you two managed to get there, Miguel stopped in front of the valet and got out. The valet driver in-waiting opened the car door for you to help you get out as Miguel rounded the car, handing the keys over to the young man who then took the sleek black suv to the parking garage.

He gave you his arm to take. It had become routine. Show some sort of display of affection while in public. You never knew who could be watching. Sometimes cameras would pop out in front of you two.

The proposal was rushed. The engagement. The wedding. People grew suspicious, and rightfully so. Your families quickly came up with a story of how you and Miguel were seeing each other in secret despite the rivalry of the families. The alleged secrecy of romance and hurried marriage gave you two the the title of Romeo and Juliet. Two star-crossed lovers who went against all odds just to be together despite your families and their differences. But, unlike the story, your ending didn’t result in a double-suicide, but rather acceptance, wedding bells, and peace between the two families. Everyone bought it. Well..almost everyone.

As you two made your way inside and were greeted by the hostess, you were taken to a more secluded area of the restaurant. There, the table had been set up especially for you. A bottle of wine rested over a bed of ice, candles were lit on the table, as well as around the perimeter of your area. It would have been romantic, had you actually had romantic feelings for Miguel.

Still, he was a gentleman and he did go out of his way to reserve a nice place for you.

He pulled a chair out for you to sit and scooted you in before taking his seat across from you. The music from a live pianist in the main dining hall still reached your private area. Had it not been for them, the room would’ve been dead silent as you and Miguel silently looked through your menus.

“Can I pour you a glass of your wine?” A waitress asked onceshe approached your table. She was young. Tall and thin with big blue eyes and blonde hair tied up in a ponytail. And wearing way too much makeup. At least for your tastes.

You could see how she was looking at Miguel, batting her fake eyelashes. You thought they were either going to fall off or send her flying away. Either way, you simply rolled your eyes. You didn’t care if Miguel got hit on, but come on, at least not while you were right there to see.

“Yes, thank you,” Miguel said, giving her a charming smile. It made you roll our eyes again. Yes, he was being polite and all, but you could see right through him.

“Can I offer you both an appetizer to start?” She then asked, still looking over at Miguel.

Miguel then looked over to you, giving you a nod. “Would you like something to start with?”

”Yes, actually. Some bread for the table. they usually bring it out at the beginning,” you started. Which was true. You were just trying to be a little petty.

“And how about some crab cakes and a salad for the table?”

The waitress nodded her head, her smile now a straight line. So straight, you could swipe your card through it like a card reader.

“Yes, of course. I will put those in for you and bring you your bread,” she said before leaving the table.

You simply rolled your eyes once again as you settled back against your seat.

“How was lunch with your family?” Miguel then asked, trying to make conversation.

“It was fine,” you responded. Usually, your responses would be short, and Miguel wouldn’t entertain the topic further. You knew you should at least try to get along with him, giving that you are married and that you will be spending the rest of your life with him. You simply assumed that it just hadn’t kicked in yet. You were going to try, though.

One day.

“Ah, Mr. O’Hara! Mrs. O’Hara! A pleasure to see you two here tonight!” Someone behind you exclaimed. You could hear their heavy footsteps before turning around and seeing the owner and head chef of the restaurant. “Javier. A pleasure to see you,” Miguel said. “We were just celebrating my wife’s birthday.” “Ah! Of course! Happy birthday, Mrs. O’Hara. You look as stunning as ever,” Javier exclaimed. The man was five foot three, a mix of tan to sunburned skin, and all round. He kind of reminded you of the Pillsbury mascot. He looked so squishable and jolly.

“Actually, Javier. Would you mind me having a word with you, real quick?” Miguel then asked, scooted his chair back from the table and stood, easily towering over the man.

“O-oh! O-of cours! Of course! Come, come! Let’s step to the side,” Javier stated, now looking a little nervous as he led Miguel out of the room, leaving you alone.

All while Miguel was having his private conversation with Javier, the waitress came back with the bread and appetizers.

“We are going to need a couple of minutes,” you stated as she placed everything onto the tables.

“Of course! I’ll make my way back around in a few minutes,” the waitress said, giving you a tight-lipped smile.

You tried your best to not roll your eyes at her again as she left. Letting out a sigh, you decided to dig into the bread and appetizers. You sure weren’t going to wait for Miguel to come back to start eating. You never waited for him. Not because you didn’t want to, but because you knew you’d be waiting forever for him.

–

Soon enough, you were back home. You were still slightly curious about the conversation Miguel had with Chef Javier. But, you didn’t think you should press Miguel about it. Some things were meant to be kept in private. Besides, you wanted no part of this whole mafia stuff. It had stolen so much of your freedom already. You wanted to remain ignorant of what goes on behind closed doors as much as possible.

You both made your way upstairs, neither of you speaking as you made your way to your rooms for the night.

Tomorrow you were planning on heading over to the boutique. Your cousin was currently operating it and sometimes you’d go to help her out. It helped you get out of the house every once in a while. Plus, you were usually filled with inspiration when you were surrounded by your family’s clothing. You were still working on your portfolio to give out to various companies, in hopes they would hire you.

You were confident that they would. You were talented. Plus, you have your family’s name to back you up. Now, all you had to do was to make sure you get a good night’s rest so you could get up refreshed.

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noramoons · 4 months

Text

what lies beneath | k.hj

pairing: kim hongjoong x g/n reader

genre: siren au, artist!reader

includes: angst, some fluff

rating: T/13+

warnings: language, slight horror themes, mentions/descriptions of food, Family Issues as a plot point (💀)

word count: 13.5k

summary: there’s a pair of eyes blinking up at you from below the pier. you think you know who (or what, really) they belong to—but you might be too afraid to admit it.

You had been sure of several things before you spent the summer at the beach with your cousins.

One, that you were not an "outside" person. You couldn't stand fishing, you hated lying underneath the sun to tan—you could swim well enough, you supposed, to keep yourself afloat—but that was it.

Two, that there was nothing more embarrassing than being a tourist in a town you'd practically grown up in.

And three, that sea monsters of any kind were absolutely, completely, 100% fictional.

It was fun to pretend as a child, sure—you remember plenty of summers playing in the ocean with your friends, or listening to your uncle tell scary stories to you and your siblings about the creatures he'd seen in his time in the navy or deep-sea fishing—but that was it. Pretending. You knew that just as well as the rest of them did.

Which is why it's now somewhat embarrassing to be back here—spending yet another summer with your extended family, and now seeing your younger cousins now running up and down the side of your uncle's small pontoon boat. "Fish-man!" one of them cries out, pointing towards the water. "I saw it! I swear!"

The other one nods. "He was huge!"

Your uncle laughs from the wheel behind you. "I bet he was! I always heard they like to catch the sides of the waves the boats make for speed—can't get too close, though, or they'll get chomped by the propellers!" He makes a chomping gesture by opening and closing his fist, and your cousins giggle.

"You heard?" you ask, turning around from the seat near the bow. "I thought you always said you'd seen those fish-men with your own two eyes back in the day, Uncle."

He smirks at you. "Those were the deep-sea days. I've never seen any creatures this close to shore, but who knows?" he shrugs, winning at you. "Maybe we'll get lucky."

Right. You resist the urge to roll your eyes as you turn back around, the spray of the saltwater coming up on either side refreshing enough to distract you from the stories your cousins are now hurriedly making up behind you.

The rest of the day is decidedly less painful; your uncle is considerate enough to let you stay on the boat when he anchors it on a nearby island, so you're able to at least attempt relaxing while your cousins run amuck on the shore. By the time you're finally pulling back in to the dock behind your uncle's house on the bay, you can already see the hues of pink and orange growing in the sky as the sun begins its descent beneath the horizon.

Your cousins make a mad dash for the house once they're within leaping distance of the dock, and you let out an exasperated sigh when you realize it's just you and your uncle left on the boat. You know exactly what that means—all the work's been left to you.

He grins at you. "You remember how to tie her to the dock, don't you?" As if this hasn't been your job on-and-off for the last ten years.

You offer a faint smile in response, but you keep yourself from saying anything negative while you pull out the ropes from beneath the seats, tying them into the knots you know from memory around the poles on the dock. You don't want to complain in front of your uncle—he's never been anything less than kind to you, especially letting you stay at his house this summer out of nowhere when you told him you needed a place to stay for a while, even when it's been over five years since your last summer here. No questions asked, although you're sure he's curious.

You might tell him the truth. Eventually.

His voice suddenly interrupts the stream of thoughts in your mind. "If you've got it covered, I'm gonna head inside and start on dinner."

You nod absentmindedly, tucking the last rope into the beginning of its knot. "What are we eating?"

He smiles at you. "Guess you'd better hurry up and find out."

You roll your eyes at him, but in your sudden rush to finish the knot, you don't complete it nearly as tightly as you should—and you can already feel the boat drifting to one side from the loose knot.

You sigh at your own impatience, but you start the knot over again anyway, pulling on the other ropes to line the boat up with the side of the dock again before you start, checking the angle into the water to make sure it'll be as close to perfect as possible so you can hurry up and go inside, and it's then that you see it.

There's a face in the water—and it isn't yours.

No. You're seeing things. After a long day in the sun, you know it's not unheard of for your eyes to play tricks on you looking into the water. You draw your focus back to completing the knot, shaking the unusual thoughts out of your head of what you know you couldn't have possibly seen.

When the knot's finally complete, you cast your gaze into the water beside the boat one final time—and you realize, in stunned horror, that you'd been right before. There is a face, a face you can just barely see in the water as you peer over the edge of the dock—and it isn't your reflection. No, the angles of the jawline, the cheekbones, the chin are all far too sharp and precise to be yours. To be human.

He blinks up at you, far too innocently for someone—something that has been holding its breath underwater for at least the past five minutes.

You don't know how long the two of you stare at each other. It could be minutes, hours—you really aren't sure. You're finding yourself practically lost in the eyes of the being before you, dark and abysmal and inviting all at the same time—this, you imagine, must be what drowning feels like. Completely helpless.

It's then that you realize your ankles are touching the water. That's strange—you'd been sitting atop the dock just a moment ago. When did you get in the water?

You feel as if you've just awoken from a dream. You don't know how you've gotten here so suddenly, but you've definitely moved—you've turned around to face the dock, and your arms are the only thing keeping you above the water, your legs submerged up to your knees.

You quickly scramble back out of the water and heave your body back onto the dock, making sure all your limbs are still attached before staring back into the bay beneath you, looking for that face beneath the water again—but it's gone. Whatever it was has completely vanished, leaving nothing but the soft lapping of the waves against the shore in its wake.

Your mind races to find an explanation. You've been in the sun for hours. You must not have had much sleep last night. Your cousins are driving you insane and they've finally pushed you past the brink. One of those, surely, has to be the answer for whatever the hell you've just seen.

It's all you can think about during dinner—you hardly touch the clam chowder your uncle had prepared. He notices the small helping you've poured for yourself when you sit down at the table, and you see him frown out of the corner of your eye. "Feeling alright, Y/N?"

You nod quickly. Too quickly. "I'm fine. Think I might've been out in the sun for too long today—I'll probably just get some water after dinner and head to bed."

He nods, visibly relaxing at your words. "Ah. That certainly can happen—I saw far too many colleagues faint back in the day after a long shift. It's brutal, that sun. That reminds me of one particular instance, actually—couldn't have been less than twenty years ago, I'll bet, when..."

He launches into another fishing anecdote, much to the delight of your cousins, while you continue to mentally spiral for the duration of dinner, locked in your own thoughts and what you know you couldn't have possibly seen. Your behavior, however, means your uncle doesn't mind at all when you go up to your room early—and when night finally falls and everyone else has gone to bed, no one notices you creeping back downstairs, either.

You have to know. You'll never be able to go to sleep tonight if you can't confirm whatever the hell you saw in the water earlier.

Your stomach interrupts your thoughts, piercing the quiet living room with an unfortunate grumble.

"Shit," you swear softly to yourself. You're hungry—it's no wonder. You barely ate dinner, and you only picked at a few snacks on the boat earlier. It certainly won't assuage your fears if you scare away whatever that thing was if your stomach growls the minute you step outside.

You quickly grab the first thing your eyes land on out of the first shelf in the refrigator—an apple, before finally striding over to the door and making your way back outside as quietly and nimbly as you can.

You practically run back to the edge of the dock, peering into the inky blackness of the water illuminated simply by the moonlight, only to find your own reflection staring back at you. There's nothing.

And you want to be reassured by that fact. You had to have been seeing things earlier, then—a result of the afternoon spent under the blistering sun, doing things to your eyes and your mind, and yet—

You have to check. You'll just dip a toe in, maybe—you're already barefoot, anyway. Nothing bites at your toe when you do, sitting down at the edge of the dock and letting the waves lap at your skin.

Well. You suppose to be really sure, you'll have to get in the water. It feels much better now than it did earlier today, you think as you lower yourself in up to your waist, still holding onto the dock with one hand, apple in the other. You don't remember the water ever feeling this good—this inviting. You wonder what it would feel like to go all the way up to your neck. Maybe even to go all the way underwater, to feel it enveloping every inch.

That last thought particularly entices you, so you let go of the dock, holding your hand (and the apple) above the water while you submerge the rest of your body beneath the waves. You wonder how long you can hold your breath underwater. Does it even matter, though? It wouldn't be so bad to stay here like this forever—

"...What is this?"

You're broken out of your thoughts by a muffled voice above you, piercing the silence and suddenly reminding you how long you've been underwater. Panic sets in almost immediately as you kick toward the surface, gasping for breath when your head breaches the waves again, breathing in sweet, fresh air as your arms attempt to tread water.

Well—arm. Singular. Someone else is holding on to your other arm, you realize far too late—the arm that's currently clutching that poor, stupid apple. A hand is wrapped around your wrist, and you feel dread sinking through your chest when your eyes follow the hand back to its owner. Perhaps that dread is why you aren't at all surprised when you once again lock eyes with the creature from earlier, this time his head and chest above water.

He looks at your sputtering form, unsurprised, before turning back to stare at the apple in your hand, head tilting to the side. "What is this?" you hear him repeat. His voice is incredibly raspy—as if he hasn't used it in years.

His lack of recognition towards you is almost irritating—as if he's disappointed that you exist. "...What?" you finally ask.

He brings another hand out of the water to tap at the apple. "This," he says. "I don't know what this is. Tell me."

You're still struggling for breath. "I...I'll tell you what it is if you let me back onto the dock."

He turns back to face you—quickly, head shifting far too quickly for something human. "No," he says, grip on your wrist unrelenting. "Tell me what it is."

Shit. "It's an apple," you say, frustration suddenly blooming in your chest. You're going to die because of an apple. Because you couldn't be bothered to eat your uncle's clam chowder for dinner. What the hell is wrong with you? If you ever get out of this, you swear on every god listening that you'll eat second helpings of every meal that man makes for the rest of your life. "You eat it."

Apparently you eat it to this creature means you can eat it—because he's lunging forward suddenly, bringing his teeth that look much more like that of a shark's than like the teeth in your own mouth onto the apple in your palm, tearing away a bite and swallowing it whole. God, you hope you aren't about to meet the same fate.

He makes a face, turning to look at you. "It's weird."

You heave a sigh. This is insane, you think. Maybe you really did lose your mind earlier on the boat—it's all your cousins' fault. Has to be. Hearing that constant, nonstop chatter about the overseas vacation they just went on (their third this year alone), and the toys the twins got for their birthdays, and the teacher at school they really don't like, has finally made you snap. "I don't know what to tell you," you say. "You said you'd never had it before. And you're stealing—I was going to eat that."

He lets go of your wrist from his damp grasp. "Hmm. You can have the rest of it, I guess."

He has let go of you. Every logical nerve in your body is screaming at you to start swimming, to pedal back up to the dock as fast as you can and scream for your uncle—but you don't. He let go of you. He had just wanted the apple.

You stare at him. You'd been right before—every feature of his is far too sharp to be human. The edge of his nose, the line of his jaw, the angles of his cheekbones—everything except his eyes. They're dark, as dark as the night sky behind you, but they're soft. They hold none of the sharpness of what you can see of the rest of his body.

You think back to the beginning of the day—to the stories of the fish-men your uncle had tried to spook your cousins with as you drove around the inlet. Damn him to hell—he was right.

You aren't sure who you're angrier at—him, for being correct about something so utterly insane, or you, for not being smart enough to realize he was telling the truth.

The creature in the water notices you staring at him. He blinks at you, tilting his head to the side. His gaze hasn't left you for a single instant, but there's something else spreading across his face now, tugging up the side of his lips in a faint smile.

"You aren't afraid," he says now, the rasp in his voice gradually beginning to ebb away.

You notice him watching your arms treading water now, apple bobbing beside you, but you don't say anything about it. You also don't say anything about how he isn't treading water but is still staying perfectly afloat—something else is propelling him to stay upright. And you think you may have an idea of what it is. "I...I don't know. I don't think so," is the only thing you can offer in response. "I don't know what you are."

He thinks for a moment. "A...a siren was what your people called us the last time we went to the surface."

A siren. You'll admit you didn't always pay constant attention in school, especially reading the Odyssey nearly three years ago, but you have a clear enough recollection of what these creatures were. Their entire purpose was to lure sailors to their deaths with their charms, wrecking their ships with a few words of a song.

"We couldn't come up to the surface very often then," he adds thoughtfully, remembering. "Too much of that black smoke in the air. That's what my father said, anyway."

Black smoke? You're confused for a moment before it dawns on you—you distinctly remember your uncle telling you that the railroad used to lie almost perfectly adjacent to the bay his house now resides on, back in the day before they'd decided to reroute the tracks to make room for the neighborhoods they were building. And if the trains the siren in front of you remembers were still billowing out black smoke...

Christ, how old is he, anyway?

"I'm supposed to drown you," he says plainly.

You furrow your brow at him. "You can try, I guess. I used to be pretty good at swimming."

He laughs at that too. The sound of his laugh is unbearably musical—light and gentle and not at all comparable to the rasp his voice had been at first, nor is it fitting for a creature who had just said he was here to kill you. "I almost did. That's how you ended up in the water—don't you see?"

Oh. Fuck. He must have been in your head, practically—convincing you to get in the water. It's what'd he done earlier in the day too, you realize—when you'd gotten in all the way up to your ankles without realizing. "How...how'd you do that?"

He shrugs. "I just hum. Some of my brothers are good at singing, but I think humming does the same thing at a much quieter rate. Harder to get caught that way."

"Does that happen to you often?" you ask. "Getting caught?"

He seems to ponder that for a moment. "No. I...I didn't have any plans on telling you this, but I've never actually drowned anyone before. You've been my first attempt."

You scoff at that. "I guess you're not a very good siren, then."

He stares at you, and you wonder for a split second if you've just made a fatal mistake by running your mouth, like you always do—but the edges of his lips quirk up in a strange smile. "That's not all we do, you know. We were the record-keepers of the ocean, back in the days before that fool Homer decided to only focus on our...occasional people-drowning habits. Once you become known for something, no one really cares what you used to do."

You blink at him. "Sorry, I...are you trying to make me feel bad for you? After you tried to drown me?"

His smile widens. "But I didn't drown you! I decided not to. Because I wanted to know what that was in your hand." He looks down at the apple bobbing in the water between the two of you. "Do you have anything else like this?"

You let out an incredulous laugh. "Why? Do you want to go through all the fruit in our fridge and take a single bite out of each one?"

He cocks his head slightly at you. "Why would I do that?"

Because it's what you just did, you want to yell at him—but you don't. Some semblance of common sense must be returning to you, now that you know you aren't in mortal danger.

He continues anyway. "I want to go back to our record-keeping ways. I like learning things. I've never spoken to a human before now—I've already learned so much. I know what an apple is. I know how easy it is to tell you to drown yourself."

You try to ignore the way your blood freezes cold for an instant at that last comment—and the way he gives you a knowing look after it leaves his lips. You think you may have a better understanding of what your situation is, now. "So you decided not to drown me because you wanted to know about the apple. You...you're only going to keep me alive if I keep bringing you things that you find interesting?"

But he shakes his head no. "You can go back up to the land now. I won't stop you. I was just suggesting that you'd think about doing me a favor, since I did one for you."

Deciding not to drown me isn't much of a favor—but you keep that to yourself. "You really wouldn't stop me if I went back up the dock? If I never set foot in the water again? Won't you...I don't know, get in trouble with the siren police or whoever you answer to?"

A bemused expression flashes across his face. "No, I don't answer to anyone. We used to travel in packs—and I think some still do, especially in the southern sects of the Pacific, but most of us are solitary, now. I do whatever I want."

“Must be nice," you reply before you can think to stop yourself.

He frowns a little at that. "What do you mean? You're the masters of the world as we know it, aren't you?" There may be a little edge of mocking at the end of that sentence, but neither of you comment on it.

Instead, you take one arm out of the water briefly to try to wave your words away, accidentally flicking a few drops of water on his face—but he doesn't even flinch. "Look—I shouldn't have said that,” you say.

"Who could possibly be telling you what to do?" he asks again. "I'm serious."

Now you do let a small laugh pass your lips. "You'd be surprised."

He just blinks. "Surprise me, then."

He did say he liked to learn. "Listen, I can't—" You cut off your own sentence when you see a light on the second story window flick on out of your peripheral vision. Shit. "I've got to go."

He casts his gaze upwards to the soft light emanating from the house. "I see," you hear him say as you plant your elbows on the edge of the dock, hauling your body back up to the wooden surface. Once you're out of the water, a sudden thought occurs to you—you never even asked the siren for his name.

Who cares? a voice in your head cries out. Your conscience, most likely—whatever scraps of common sense you have left. That thing was going to drown you. You don't need his name; you're never going to see him again.

Well—that you aren't entirely sure of, even if you may not be completely prepared to admit it. As much as you had apparently intrigued him, he had certainly kept your interest too. For crying out loud—he's a goddamn siren. How often did you get to have a sit-down conversation with a sea creature you had been perfectly convinced wasn't real an hour ago?

Even more intriguing, you think, was that air of freedom about him. I do whatever I want, he'd said. You can't imagine the last time anything like that left your mouth—or if anything like it ever had. You're drawn to that feeling of freedom—either out of jealousy or a desire to live vicariously through it, you aren't sure. But you do want to experience it again.

So you turn back around, the question of his name on the tip of your tongue—but it never gets any further. By the time you're looking back into the water below you, he's gone. Had you imagined the entire thing all along, you wonder for a brief instant?

But that thought shatters when you hear a splash to your right, at the very edge of the canal before it opens back up into the ocean, and you see the edge of a long, blue tail flicker in the moonlight before it disappears below the surface.

You let out a short laugh of disbelief at the sight. And the small smile that lingers on your lips—even as you hurry back towards the house, open the back door as quietly as possible, hurry back upstairs, throw your wet clothes in the bathroom, and jump back in your bed in a fresh pair of pajamas—doesn't fade away for quite some time.

Three days pass before you see him again.

You'd run out to the dock three nights in a row after everyone in the house had fallen asleep, peering into the water only to be met with the ripples of your own reflection staring back up at you. Disappointed, you had trudged back to the back porch and snuck back up to your room, lingering confusions about that damn siren swirling around in your head. You won't go check again tomorrow night. That entire meeting with him was apparently a one-time thing. It was a miracle that he'd let you live, anyway—a miracle that you aren't ever supposed to see again.

You still find yourself padding down to the dock on the fourth night—and this time, you aren't alone.

There's an apple sitting on the very last wooden plank on the end of the dock, water dripping off the edge and forming a small puddle around it. You almost let out a laugh at the sight, but it's swallowed by the yelp you accidentally let out when the siren's head emerges suddenly from beneath the surface. He stares at you, unblinking as he hauls his forearms onto the edge of the dock, propelling himself forward to look up at you.

"You're surprised," he says.

You take a breath to calm yourself before speaking. "You're observant."

He blinks once. Twice. "That's for you," he says, gesturing towards the singular fruit on the last plank of wood. "Since I ate the other one."

You look down at the apple, deciding you're safer not asking where he got this one—and then you look lower, peering down off the edge. The siren has pulled himself up to rest against the dock, which means he's only about halfway submerged into the water now. You see his arms, crossed on top of each other to support him resting on top of the dock. You see his chest, his abdomen, droplets of water still rolling down the toned muscles. And you swallow the gasp that threatens to escape you when you finally lock eyes on the dark blue tail that begins past his waist, swishing back and forth as it glistens with every beam of moonlight it reflects.

If he knows the cause of your sudden amazement, he doesn't say anything about it. Instead, he speaks again. "I wasn't sure if you'd be back."

You manage to pull your eyes back up towards his. "I, um...I realized I never got your name the other night. I figured you didn't just go by 'siren.'"

He smirks. "No, I don't. But I've never had to say it out loud before, like this." He thinks about it for a moment. "Hongjoong."

Hongjoong. "Hongjoong," you repeat.

You aren't sure if it's the moonlight playing tricks on you, or if his cheeks really do twinge a shade pink at the repetition from your lips. "What's yours?"

Now it's your turn to smirk a little. "You won't, like...gain some kind of terrible power over me once you know my name, right?" You think you remember reading about the fae having that kind of ability in school, but that was ages ago. And at the time, you didn't think you'd ever need to remember information about creatures you were certain didn't exist.

The siren—Hongjoong—shakes his head. "Not that I know of. I can look into it in our historical records though, if you'd like."

You shake your head quickly. Probably better off not knowing.

But you do tell him your name, and he smiles too. "Pretty," he says, and you think you understand how someone like him could talk someone like you into walking off a boat—but the thought doesn't scare you the way it might have the other night. He's so beautiful, you're realizing—almost impossibly so. To hear him say he thinks you're pretty, or at least your name is, almost makes you want to laugh.

Hongjoong pulls you out of your thoughts when he taps the space on the dock next to the apple with one hand. "Well? Are you going to take it?"

Oh. "Oh!" you say, bending over to pick up the fruit. "Sure. Thank you for bringing this to me—" and then, before you can stop yourself from the most sudden and peculiar act of boldness in your entire life so far— "do you...I don't know, want anything in return for it?"

He seems taken aback by your proposition at first, but only a moment passes before that soft, self-assured grin appears across his features again. "What would you want to give me?"

Christ. Why did you say that? "Well—um..." You glance down at your shoes with wet sand still caked to the sides, the green charm on the end of one shoelace, the fraying ends of the jacket you'd hastily pulled over your shoulders before walking outside tonight, before you see—

You quickly work it off of your wrist and hand it over to him. "Here," you say, sitting down at the dock's edge and handing Hongjoong the bracelet you've been wearing since you came to your uncle's house this summer. "You can keep it."

Hongjoong takes the bracelet delicately from your outstretched hand. He peers at it in the moonlight. "What is it?"

"It's a bracelet," you explain. "You can just wear it on your wrist for decoration—it doesn't have to mean anything. This one, um...it was actually from my parents, but believe me—it doesn't mean anything," you finish, trying (and failing) not to let that all-too-familiar drip of malicious venom back into your voice at the mention of the people who raised you. Who bought you this bracelet—a week-late birthday gift from your mother who had missed it while she was on a 'girls trip' in Italy. And yet, you still turned out like this—

Hongjoong continues studying the bracelet, poring over each individual charm. If he notices your attitude about your parents, he doesn't say anything—but after that first conversation you'd had with him, you think he may understand what you mean anyway.

The silence is starting to make you drowsy, so you move to stand back up. "Look, Hongjoong, I'd better head back. It's late. Will I, um—" Why does he make you so nervous now? "Will I see—"

"What are you bringing next time?" Hongjoong interrupts.

You blink. "What?"

He taps the bracelet with one finger. "I'll bring something else the next time I see you, if you bring something too."

He had said he liked to learn. "Okay," you say. There's a sudden warmth in your chest at the thought of seeing him again, even despite the cool breeze suddenly drifting off from the sea. "When will you be back?"

Hongjoong tilts his head to one side, thinking. "The next half moon. It should be in a few nights. I'll need time to find something good for you," he says, grinning.

You can't fight the grin that tugs at your own lips. "I'll be here, then."

You think about how the first two weeks of your summer had dragged by. Every day had felt like an unending loop of babysitting your cousins while your uncle went to work, of making an effort to laugh at said uncle's intentionally not-funny jokes, of picking up groceries and running errands and getting lost in the monotony of the mundane—but the second half of your summer is the complete opposite.

Going out and meeting Hongjoong by the end of the dock goes from a once a week occurrence to a nightly routine. And it doesn't stop at just bringing each other different little trinkets and knick-knacks and snacks that you find—you and Hongjoong both discover that you're better conversationalists than you'd previously thought. The two of you find yourself talking for hours about anything you can think of; you learn that Hongjoong's family is several times larger than yours, and that sirens swim further south when the water gets cold in the winter ("the same as everything else in the sea with any sense," he points out). And you tell Hongjoong about you, about all the summers you spent here with your older siblings when you were all still children, about the nights you snuck out with them and went to the gas station for ice cream—both of you hanging on each other's every word.

You find yourself looking forward to seeing him all day. You're in far better spirits than you were at the beginning of the summer, your uncle teases on several occasions, but you can't find it in yourself to be bothered.

You probably could try to make it slightly less obvious, though. After nearly a month of spending almost all your nights with Hongjoong, you find yourself one midsummer day back on the pontoon boat with your cousins and uncle, looking for an island to go for a picnic on—just like you had been that day you'd first seen him. You still keep to yourself on the bow of the boat the same way you did at the beginning of the summer, but your thoughts are full of nothing but the siren, now. You'd found an unfinished scrapbook of you and your siblings from years ago in your uncle's garage last night, and you're practically beaming at the thought of showing it to Hongjoong tonight. You wonder if he'll be able to pick out which one is you in the photos if you don't tell him. Maybe you'll—

"There's something in the water!" one of your cousins cries out, pointing towards the right side of the boat.

You practically shoot out of your seat. "Where?" you ask, rushing over to her side of the boat.

She blinks up at you, caught off-guard by your sudden enthusiasm. "Um...right next to the boat." She points again with a shrug. "There was a face, but it's gone now. I swear I'm telling the truth."

You nod, giving her a knowing grin. "I believe you."

Her eyes widen, a smile growing across her own features. "You do?"

Your uncle laughs from the wheel of the boat behind you. "You mean your reflection, bub?"

Your cousin shakes her head quickly. "No, it wasn't. It was something else, I know it."

Your uncle looks back and forth between the two of you, landing his gaze firmly on you. "Well—if you see anything else, you just let me know. It's almost the end of the summer, you know," he points out. "I've kept you all under my watch this long—I don't want anything to happen to either of you."

The little girl next to you nods before going back to her seat with the rest of your cousins, but you stay planted at the side of the boat for a while with them.

It's almost the end of the summer, you know.

What's been wrong with you for the last several weeks? Befriending a siren, of all things—where did you think that was going to go? Did you think you'd get to pack him up in your suitcase with everything else and take him home? Stupid, you think—you've been completely, utterly stupid. It's the only explanation for it.

No—that isn't entirely true, either. You may have been foolish, thinking you could keep a friendship with a siren, but that wasn't the only place those feelings were coming from. You've been distracting yourself, you realize now. You're trying to run, still—from the very same thing that led you to stay with your uncle this summer for the first time in years.

Maybe you've had your fill of running. It may be time to try facing the thing you've been avoiding all summer before it's too late—which is how you find yourself alone in the kitchen later that night, holding on to your uncle's home phone with one hand while you read her number to yourself off of your own phone (you're fairly certain she won't answer if she recognizes your number on her caller ID).

You almost hesitate before punching in the last number to dial and sealing your fate, but your uncle's words float back to you again. It's almost the end of the summer. What do you have to lose now, anyway?

You finish dialing the number.

She picks up on the fourth ring. "Hello?" She sounds slightly out of breath, as if she'd ran to catch the phone before it stopped ringing. The thought gives you a momentary sense of hope—maybe she won't hang up on you immediately once she realizes who's calling.

You take a deep breath before answering. "Hi, Mom," you say, slowly. "It's me."

She's silent for a long, long time—but she doesn't hang up. "...Oh," is the first thing your mother says. "I thought this was your uncle calling." You hear her take a breath, hesitating on saying what you know she's about to say. "I guess that's why you called from his phone, huh?"

You know there's no point answering that. "Mom, I...I wanted to talk to you, since the summer's almost over. I thought we could possibly talk about, um...about me staying at home for a little bit before school starts—or maybe coming home during winter break."

There's another long period of silence—and like the fool you are, you allow yourself to hope, for a brief moment, that she won't say exactly what you've known she was going to say the minute you dialed her number. "Hmm...no, Y/N, I don't really think that's a good idea." Your heart sinks, but she continues to push the dagger (that you practically handed her by making this call) further into your chest. "You know what—it's not really a good time right now, anyway. I'll talk to you some other time, alright?"

"Listen, Mom, I'm—"

Click.

She's hung up.

You told yourself earlier you wouldn't cry if she did this (you knew she was going to). And yet—you still can't fight those tears brimming at the edge of your eyelids, threatening to spill over. As you try to blink them away, your gaze is drawn towards the back window—towards the head of blue hair you can just barely see at the end of the dock, waiting expectantly for you already.

God. You cannot talk to Hongjoong right now—but you can't just blow him off entirely, either. You'll make something up, tell him you've gotten sick and can't see him for a few days, and hope he'll just forget about you and find some other human to trade apples for bracelets with.

You pad as quickly as you can down the end of the beach to the dock, peering over the edge to see Hongjoong's dark eyes looking up at you. "I can't talk tonight," you say sharply. "I'm sorry."

Hongjoong frowns. "What's wrong? Did you forget to bring something? It's okay, you know. I don't mind just talking to you. If you want."

Of course that's what he's concerned about. "No," you say, somewhat shakily. "I just can't, alright?"

You move to turn around, but the siren is a step ahead of you like always. He lunges forward onto the dock, grabbing ahold of your ankle with a strength you hadn't known he'd had. You think, for a moment, that if he had really wanted to drown you that day—he could have. "That's not good enough," he replies firmly, but his gaze softens the minute he sees your face closer. "I want to know what's wrong. Please."

It doesn't take much pleading from him for you to succumb to his wishes, so you relent, turning back around and sitting down on the edge of the dock. Hongjoong props himself up with his forearms before pushing the rest of his body up onto the dock, sitting upright and facing the sea beside you, just like you—something he's never done before. Only the last few scales on the edge of his tail just barely brush the water. "Tell me," he asks again, gentler this time.

So you do.

"It's my mother," you tell him, slowly. "Both my parents, really—they planned out me and my brothers' lives from the moment we were born. We were all supposed to be doctors, or lawyers, or scientists—something to make a ridiculous amount of money for them, just like they did for their parents. It was the only way to make them proud. They sent us to private schools and paid for expensive tutoring for years to ensure it, and they only spoke to us when we did well. They didn't want children—they wanted trophies. Things they could show off to their friends who were just as selfish and conceited as them. And they got them with my brothers—they did exactly what they were supposed to. Graduated law school or got their doctorates or PhDs, and now do nothing except work and get filthy rich. I'm the last one to fulfill what my parents had planned out for us. But I guess things don't always work out the way you planned," you add, somewhat bitterly.

Hongjoong keeps his gaze fixed on you. "No," he says, as gently as the water lapping at your ankles. "They don't. And...you don't want to do what they want you to."

You nod. "That's right. I don't. I think I should get a choice in what I make of my life, not slaving away forever at something someone else picked out for me. To do something of my own volition. And I told them so—and they told me I'd be on my own, forever, because of it."

"What do you want, then?" he asks.

You feel tears brushing against the edges of your eyelashes again. "It doesn't matter," you say, trying to keep your voice as steady as you can. "I'm screwed as it is. I have enough money saved for this semester of college, but they've cut me off entirely. I tried to call and make an attempt to patch things up tonight, but she wouldn't even listen to me. I'll be coming here every other semester to work, save up for the next semester, and stay with my uncle. I'm extremely grateful to at least have him on my side, to have someone who will allow me to stay with them—but I don't know if I'll ever get to see my parents or my brothers again. And I knew that would happen," you admit, voice definitely shaking now.

"I knew that was the choice I was making when I told them I didn't want to just be a stupid trophy for them to display, that I wanted to make something worthwhile, that I deemed worthwhile with my life. I knew it wouldn't be easy and that I was taking the harder route, but I thought I'd be able to just cut ties with them. Go no contact, and all that, but it...it's hard, Hongjoong," you tell him, tears rolling down your cheeks. "So fucking hard. And it's so stupid. Even after all this, after she's told me she doesn't want anything to do with me, now that I've chosen to 'waste my life away' and she 'doesn't know who I am anymore—' I still care what she thinks of me, for some stupid reason. She's still my mother—God, what am I supposed to do?"

Hongjoong turns to you almost instantly, cupping your face in both hands, and the sudden touch alone almost makes your tears stop falling. "Nothing stops the flow of the sea," he says, quietly. You want to move your gaze, to move your head away so your eyes aren't locked onto Hongjoong's so intensely, but he keeps you there anyway. "You just have to keep moving through it. With it. I think it's the same with your mother. It won't immediately be better tomorrow, just like how the sea isn't immediately perfectly calm after a typhoon—but it will be better, eventually. A little bit every day, as the waves return back to their normal rolling patterns."

"You don't think it's stupid?" you ask, quietly. "That I'm still so desperate to hold on to my mother, even if she's practically already thrown me away?"

Hongjoong shrugs. "Nonsensical, maybe. But not stupid. I don't think there's anything stupid about reaching out for someone who's taken care of you. My family has always been spread across the oceans—no matter where I go, it seems, I can find someone. I think it would be a much harder life if I was told none of them wanted to see me ever again. I'd feel stranded. And I haven't lived the same life as you, so I don't know what the exact circumstances are like, but I don't think it's a stupid aspiration. Just slightly nonsensical—but I think I'm realizing that a lot of things you do—that humans do," he corrects, "are that way."

That makes you laugh, even as his words settle into your ears and you begin to feel a kind of lightness in your chest. His world is so different from yours, you think. You're almost jealous of it, in a way.

And still, when he says things will be easier, eventually—you believe him.

"What is it that you want with your life?" he asks.

You laugh a little again. "It's cliché."

Hongjoong doesn't hesitate. "How would I know what your clichés are?" His hands are still firmly cupped against your cheeks.

Now the smile that ghosts across your face is real. Genuine. "Art," you say, quietly—as if you're afraid of admitting the truth even to him. "I love drawing—always have. It's all I've ever wanted to do. It used to be my escape when I came here in the summers with my family; I'd sneak away from everyone and paint on the beach for hours until my uncle would call for dinner. I begged for paint sets as a kid for birthday presents—even stole a set of charcoal pencils from the art room in middle school once. The teacher let me keep them even after finding out," you add, laughing a little. You bare your soul to Hongjoong, the parts of you that you've tried to squash for years but have failed to completely erase—like charcoal marks on a piece of paper that just won't quite go away.

He seems to ponder this for a moment. "Could you draw me?"

You laugh, feeling like a dam of relief is beginning to break within within you. He knows what has practically been your deepest, darkest secret for your entire life, and he doesn't want to shun you forever for it. "You know, I've always heard that's the one thing you aren't supposed to ask an artist."

Hongjoong blinks. "I didn't know that." There's only a single beat of silence before he asks, "Can you draw me anyway?"

"It won't be very good," you say with a shrug, smirk still tugging at the corners of your mouth. "I've never been very good at portraits. Landscapes and still life are easier for me."

He moves one hand to wrap around your wrist. "Try anyway."

The tenderness of the action coupled with his words—blunt as always, but reassuring in a way you've never known from him, never known from anyone—is enough to cause tears to prickle at the corners of your eyes again.

This time, Hongjoong notices, moving his free hand up your cheek to gently brush them away before they ever have a chance to cascade past your lashes. You see him sniff once, then look back up at you—realization dawning on his face.

"Salt," Hongjoong whispers in awe. "There's a piece of the sea in you, too."

That dam inside you breaks.

You meet his eyes, dark as the bottom of the ocean—feel the cool grip of his hand wrapped around your wrist and his fingers resting gently on your cheek, and you feel the pull towards him like the magnetism of the Earth's core.

When your lips land on his, it doesn't surprise either of you. It's a chaste, careful kiss at first. Hongjoong takes only a moment to breathe, forehead touching yours so lightly you almost wouldn't know he was there, before pulling you back to him and pressing his lips against yours again.

You've never experienced anything like it before—the tenderness of his hands on your skin, the softness of his lips on yours, his warm breath skating across your jaw. It's like he's everywhere, taking over every sensation—but not at all like that first time he had met you and influenced your thoughts. You feel fully in control right now. You're the one who's let him in.

If this is what drowning feels like, you think, you'd never complain.

You taste salt on your lips when you wake in the morning, and the sensation immediately sends a flurry of butterflies through your chest. A smile tugs at your mouth before you can even think to hide it from yourself.

Had last night even been real? Hongjoong reassuring you, kissing you so gently that you thought you might melt right into the water below the two of you—God, how could it not have been real? You could never have dreamed something like it.

If your uncle and cousins notice your uncharacteristically chipper mood at breakfast, a stark contrast to your melancholy behavior at dinner the night before, they don't say anything—but your uncle does look surprised when you offer to help load the cooler and towels onto the boat for the day.

"I've enjoyed having you here for the summer," your uncle tells you later that afternoon, when you've dropped anchor on a nearby island and your cousins are eating their lunches peacefully—the only time of the day you find that they're quiet. "Reminded me of the old days, with your brothers. It's been good to have you here."

You smile at him. "I've enjoyed being here," you admit, even if he doesn't know all the reasons why. "Thank you for letting me stay the summer. I really, um...really appreciate knowing there's someone who has my back."

His eyes crinkle in a soft smile. "Listen, Y/N. I know it's hasn't been easy after what happened with your mother—I don't know the whole story, but I'm not old and senile enough yet to not know something's up. But you'll always have a place to stay here. I want you to know that."

Your heart jumps. "Thank you, Uncle," you say. "You've always gone out of your way to make this feel like home for me, and you did the same when my brothers were here too. I can never thank you enough for that. And I—"

He just waves your words away. "That's what family does, you know? I've always felt like a bit of a black sheep living out here—compared to my sister, anyway. She always had big plans for all of you. But I've wanted this to feel like a good place for you, and your brothers, and now your cousins too—no matter what. Even when you all would sneak out for late-night gas station runs back in the day...or whatever it is you're doing now," your uncle adds, pointedly.

Your stomach twists. "I've...been taking moonlit strolls. It's helped me relax, with everything going on."

He doesn't seem convinced, however. "Honey...you know, you can always—"

But he's interrupted by one of your cousins shouting. "Jay won't give me the binoculars back!"

Your uncle frowns. "Jay, let your sister have a turn. Only fair, you know."

Jay crosses his arms, tucking the binoculars under one elbow. "No way! Every time Bianca uses these, she keeps telling me she sees somebody staring at her in the water."

Bianca scowls, lunging for him. "And I did! Just because you didn't see him doesn't mean I didn't."

Him.

After what your uncle had just said about your moonlit strolls, you restrain yourself from running over to the edge of the boat immediately like the other day—but your eyes still scan over the water ahead of you hurriedly.

You can see your uncle's gaze flicker back to you out of the corner of your eye, hesitating for a moment too long, before turning his attention back to the twins. "You guys have seen more stuff on the horizon in the past month than I saw in twenty years on the sea," he quips, forcing a tight laugh. "Might need to get you kids back to living in the city soon if you're seeing this many things in the water—not everyone's made for the sea life," he adds.

The knot of worry tightens itself a little tighter in your gut, and not for the last time this summer.

You still smuggle your sketchbook down to the pier once night falls, slipping out the back door with it tucked securely under your arm.

Hongjoong, of course, is waiting expectantly for you, peering up at you from the edge of the dock. "Is that for drawing?" he asks, and you can hear the twinge of excitement in his voice.

Your heart does a little backflip in your chest. "Yes," you admit, a little more sheepishly than you'd meant to. "Do you know how you want to pose for it?"

He thinks for a moment. "Can I sit up here with you? I want to be close to you for it."

Oh—now there are serious acrobatics going on within your chest. "Sure," you say, grinning as you sit on the far edge and watch him scoot up to sit beside you, leaning on the support beam at the very edge of the dock.

You gaze at him for a moment after flipping open your sketchbook and finding an empty page. His tail practically shines in the darkness around the two of you, moonlight reflecting off of each dark blue scale. His torso looks practically sculpted by the gods—arms and chest full of just as much unearthly beauty as his face, jawline sharper than the tip of the pencil you're sketching him with.

Not for the first time, you think to yourself how beautiful he is.

Hongjoong's cheeks turn the fairest shade of pink as you continue to stare at him, but he doesn't say a word as you begin your initial sketch. You find it slightly difficult to get the right shape of the tail flicking against the edge of the water beneath you. "Can I ask you a question?" you say instead, putting down your pencil for a moment.

Hongjoong blinks. "You've asked me questions for weeks, now."

You laugh. "This is a different one. I...I think one of my cousins saw something in the water today. When we were on my uncle's pontoon boat. Any chance you might know something about that?"

His cheeks turn pinker than before, but he doesn't flinch. "I suppose I might."

You can't bite back a grin. "Are you...following me, Hongjoong?"

Hongjoong frowns a little. "I wouldn't call it that. I've...just been in the area. Keeping an eye on things. Not just you."

"Just at the same time as me."

"Right," he says, clearly relieved. "Exactly."

Your grin widens.

Hongjoong points at your sketchpad. "Are you finished with the drawing?"

You laugh a little, picking your pencil back up from beside you on the dock. "No, not even close. I've never drawn anything like you before—but I love a good challenge."

He seems somewhat pleased with this admission. "Will you show it to me once it's done?"

“Of course," you tell him, and he beams. That smile—God. You only hope you can put even a fraction of the way it makes you feel back onto the paper in your palms.

Your uncle corners you in the kitchen after breakfast the next morning. You feel yourself panicking inwardly at first, thinking he's going to continue pressing you on your "moonlit strolls" conversation from yesterday—but he just informs you that he's planning on a big seafood broil for dinner tomorrow night, as a send-off for the summer. And more importantly, he wants you to pick up a few pounds of shrimp from the seafood store in town today.

It's been a while since you ventured that far back into town—God, probably since the very first week of summer. And now your uncle is preparing a feast for the end of the season. You've never known time could pass you by this quickly.

That thought lingers as you ride your uncle's bike down the boardwalk and across the bridge, gradually making your way onto the mainland. You've put off thinking about what will happen once the summer comes to a close since that night you called your mother—but it's an inevitable fact that you'll have to leave, obviously sooner than you think. How can you even begin to bring that up to Hongjoong? Does he know, already, somehow? Will he be disappointed that he can't obtain any more knowledge from you and dip back into the sea, never to be seen again?

Your racing mind quiets somewhat when you realize you've made it to the seafood store—or shack, as it's always been affectionately known. You gaze for a moment at the neon sign outside, realizing that "THE CRAB SHACK" only has a few lights that actually work. "T E CR B S H C K" is what the sign displays now.

You remember that the lights didn't work when you were here years ago, either. The whole bottom row of neon was always out, meaning that the sign only read "T E CRB." You wonder if there's a meaning in that—that the sign was broken then and broken now, just showing it in different ways.

Or maybe it's just a neon sign for a seafood shack, and your suddenly gloomy mind is searching for meaning where there is none.

You roll your eyes at your own thoughts, park your bike, and make your way inside. The smell of seafood is nearly overpowering the minute you step through the door and doesn't fade for an instant, even after you've collected your pounds of shrimp in bags and make your way to the register in the very back. You wonder if the employee behind the counter even smells the seafood anymore, or if he's completely accustomed to it now.

He clears his throat awkwardly. Oh, God—how long have you been standing here? "Are you ready to check out?"

"Yes! Yes," you say hurriedly, laughing at yourself. "Sorry. In my own head this morning."

The cashier laughs good-naturedly in reply. "It happens." He looks down at the bags of shrimp after weighing and typing them in. "You visiting a friend here or something? That's quite a few pounds of shrimp—and I don't think I've seen you in here before."

You nod. "I'm staying with some family on the other side of the bridge. We're doing an end-of-summer broil tomorrow night."

He grins at you. "Can I come by if I only charge you for one of these?"

"If there's any leftovers," you reply coolly. "My cousins are pretty ravenous."

The cashier just laughs again, handing you the bags. "Fair enough. You have a good day, now."

"Same to you," you tell him absentmindedly—because you've noticed something in the open door behind the cashier. It's probably not meant to always be open, as it leads to a boardwalk out to the sea. Another Crab Shack employee is lining up a few crates of stock not yet loaded into the store. A couple canisters of fruit, three or four crates of sodas—and at the very end of the boardwalk, you think you might just see a head of blue hair peeking out of the water.

Shit.

You wonder as you quickly make your way out of the store, as you duck under the Sea You Later! sign at the exit, as you pedal the whole ride back over the bridge and back onto your uncle's property—a trick of the light, maybe? (When has that ever been the case this summer?) Will Hongjoong even say anything about it tonight, if it was him?

He does, of course. When evening falls and you make your way down to the dock, you haven't even taken your pencils out of your drawing bag before Hongjoong is pulling himself up beside you, gazing at you intently.

"What was so funny?" he asks, in a tone so innocent you almost think he's being genuine. "I want to know."

You make an exasperated face. "I don't know what you're talking about, Hongjoong."

"The man in the store today," he answers plainly. "In the apron. You laughed at something he said."

"Nothing," you say. "I was being polite—I promise. He was the one trying to make jokes about inviting himself over. Not nearly as funny as he thought he was."

He isn't quite satisfied with that. "Did you know him before?"

"No," you tell him. "I was just in there getting shrimp for my uncle to cook tomorrow."

Hongjoong frowns. "I could've gotten you shrimp. There's plenty around that cove near the bridge."

You laugh. "I appreciate the offer—but where would I have told my uncle several pounds of live shrimp came from?"

He frowns, thinking for a moment. "The apron man wasn't too bright, I think," Hongjoong says. "I saw him come out onto the boardwalk not too long after you left—almost fell over trying to help the other apron man pick up those boxes."

His words hang in the air for a beat. Then two. "What would you have done if he had?" you ask, partially teasing and partially serious. "Drown him?"

Hongjoong ponders that. "I'm not sure. Maybe."

"For what? Talking to me?" you ask, somewhat incredulously. "What were you doing watching me in the middle of the day, anyway? Just 'in the area' again?"

He crosses his arms indignantly. "I didn't plan to. I heard your laugh when I came up for air, so I wanted to know what was funny." He seems to pause on that for a moment. "You're almost a siren yourself, in that way."

Now that makes your heart stop—maybe more than he had intended it to. You have to hide the smile that threatens to creep up the edges of your mouth. "So you really aren't going to drown that poor cashier? Or me, for talking to him?" you ask, still only partially teasingly.

Hongjoong's face softens slightly at that. "I don't think I ever really intended to. Not from the moment I saw you."

You wonder, for a split second, if he can hear your heart thundering in your chest—if he has any idea what kind of effect he has on you, siren abilities or not.

He seems to have an idea of your thoughts, either way—because he reaches for your hand, intertwining it with his. "I want to show you something."

You stare at him for an instant too long. "Where?" you ask, nervous laughter accidentally escaping you. "In the water?"

He nods, as if that should have been obvious. "Of course."

You give him a look. "Hongjoong—I don't know how far this is, but you know I'm not nearly as good at holding my breath as you are."

Hongjoong laughs a little at that—that bright, airy, musical laugh that almost instantly sets you at ease, reminding whatever sane parts of you are left that he's still a siren. "Don't worry," he says plainly. "I'll make sure you can breathe."

Just as always, there's no malice in his tone, no hint of a hidden plot behind his eyes, although you wonder if you would even know if there was, skillful siren that he is. Regardless, you squeeze his hand in yours and let him lead you off the dock and beneath the waves, taking one last gasping breath before your head slips underneath.

Hongjoong keeps your hand in his, tail swishing as he leads the two of you further beneath the surface—the scales across it continue to reflect moonlight as brightly as if you were still above the water, giving you just as much visibility in the dark water as if you had a flashlight with you.

What's a flashlight?

You nearly let out a yelp before you remember the two of you are underwater. That was Hongjoong's voice, no doubt about it—and it was in your head.

You can talk to me this way too, you know.

It's like he's invaded your head—his thoughts are suddenly yours. Can you always hear my thoughts? you wonder. If that's been the case all along—

But you can just barely see Hongjoong shake his head in front of you through the darkness. No, you hear him say. Only when we're here, like this. Do you need air?

God, you definitely, definitely do—the shock of Hongjoong's voice in your mind had completely distracted you for a brief moment from the lack of air in your lungs. It's nothing at all, though, compared to the shock you feel when Hongjoong cups your cheeks between his hands and presses his mouth to yours.

He's kissing you.

No—he's not, you realize suddenly. He's breathing into you, pushing air down your lungs and filling them up until you feel like you can breathe again, despite being completely submerged beneath the water.

Hongjoong pulls away after a moment. Good? he asks.

You nod—you're slightly embarrassed now, especially now that you know he could hear your confusion in your head.

And especially considering the smirk you can see on his lips right before he turns back around to push the two of you further through the water. He's well aware of the confusion he's caused.

Hongjoong only has to give you air two more times before you finally arrive at what he had wanted to show you—and it nearly takes your breath away once more.

It's a shipwreck. A massive one, sitting completely undisturbed at the bottom of the bay. The ship has three broken masts, some of the sails slightly submerged in the sand with several of the cannon openings peeking out at you, which you know can mean only one thing.

This ship is hundreds of years old. One that had clearly gone down in a fight.

Hongjoong beams at you taking in the scene. My cousins did this, you hear him say, and you nearly laugh at the clear pride in that declaration.

You think about your own cousins, playing pirates on the beach while they throw buckets of water at each other, stomping over sandcastles and leaving childlike destruction in their wake. Yeah? you finally ask. Sounds like something my cousins would do.

Hongjoong stares at you thoughtfully for a long time after that—you wonder, for a brief moment, if you shouldn't have compared your family to his in this way. You're just about to formulate a thought to apologize when you feel his lips on yours again, one hand on the back of your head while the other cups your cheek gently.

You stare at him, confused once more when he pulls back. I didn't need air, you tell him, eyebrows knit together in confusion.

He stares right back. I know.

Hongjoong waits to see the realization on your face before he touches you again, clasping your chin between two fingers gingerly. He's giving you a chance to push him away, if that's what you want.

It isn't.

You hold his face in your hands when you press your lips to his this time, and you can practically feel the relief emanating from him in your own mind. He wraps one arm around your waist and the other around your shoulders, holding you as close to him as he can. Everything else—all your fearful thoughts about the end of the summer from today, your suspicions about your uncle, your constant stress about your mother—all fades away past the point of existence, and in that moment, there is nothing but you and Hongjoong at the bottom of the ocean.

"Sure you don't want to go out on the boat today?" your uncle asks the next morning. "It's your last chance for this summer."

But you shake your head again. "I got pretty sunburned across my back yesterday," you fib. "I'll watch the house here until you all get back. Do you need me to run any errands for you while you're gone?"

He doesn't quite stop himself from narrowing his eyes at you. You've been out in the sun enough times this summer that the half hour you spent in the backyard watching your cousins' impromptu performance of A Midsummer Night's Dream yesterday shouldn't have burned you at all. And you know he's fully aware of this. "...Don't know how many times I've told you kids to wear sunscreen," he says after a moment. "And reapply."

"I know," you wince. "I'm sorry. I'll put some lotion on it after breakfast."

"There's some in the closet upstairs with aloe," he informs you. "That usually speeds up the healing process for me."

"Good to know," you tell him. In truth, the only thing you plan to do while everyone is out of the house is work on your drawing of Hongjoong. You've solidified the outline, gone over it with an ink pen, but you're still trying to decide how to place the shading. You want to show the finished product to Hongjoong tonight—your last night of summer. You've put off that dreaded conversation with him until the very last minute—but you know you two will have to talk about what happens two nights from now when you're across the country, moving into your dorm room for your first night at college.

At least—you think you will be. There's a mad fantasy, of course, of staying here, of sneaking out to see Hongjoong every night for as long as you can, of running away with him somehow to some island where no one will ever bother the two of you—but it's just that, a fantasy, and you know it. Even if the entire summer has felt like a fantasy in its own way.

You don't know how that conversation will go tonight. But you want to at least be able to give this piece to him, regardless of what happens.

You're hunched over your sketchpad for hours, messing with the combination of paints for your watercolors until they're just right (or at least as satisfactory as you can get them). The scales on his tail are the hardest—you want so badly to show how ethereal they look with the moonlight reflecting off them, making him look like he's glowing from the waist down. You lay down a base color first and paint over it with different shades of blue and green, creating several different layers until you're pleased with the color's result.

Your work on the contours of his face and torso comes much easier, and the full painting is almost completely dry by the time you're heading back outside, moon high in the sky to greet you as you step onto the dock.

Hongjoong is waiting for you too, forearms resting at the edge of the pier. You roll the painting into a cylinder shape as you walk down to meet him, but you know he knows exactly what it is.

He grins. "I've been thinking about this all day," he admits, immediately, and you feel an entire enclosure of butterflies fluttering through your chest at the statement.

But you steel yourself. Take a breath. "Before I show it to you," you say, "I want to talk."

Hongjoong nods. "The end of the summer. Right?"

You raise one eyebrow at him. "How'd you know?"

"I heard you talking about it. With your uncle, that first time that your cousin spotted me from the boat." He grins a little at the recollection. "I heard him say there wasn't long until the end of summer, when you'd be leaving, so—I imagined this conversation would happen soon."

You exhale, slightly relieved. At least you wouldn't have to break the news of your sudden departure to him. "And how did you imagine this conversation?"

He takes a breath now. "I know I can't ask you to stay here. That's not fair to what you want—to the choices you've made with your own family for being able to make your own life. But I was thinking—"

"Y/N!" You hear a voice cry out from behind you.

You'd recognize the sound of your uncle anywhere—and you feel your blood practically freeze over in your veins. "Get back here. Now!"

You turn around quickly, trying to block the view of Hongjoong from your uncle—but it's too late. And as you turn to face him, you see that he's come prepared for this exact situation—a shotgun raised to his shoulder now, eyes peering down the barrel pointed at you, and a long fishing spear beside him on the dock.

"Uncle," you say, as calmly as you can. "Put that down. Please."

"Get back here, Y/N," he says, voice trembling with barely contained rage. "Get away from that thing right this minute and get out of my way."

You take a shaky breath. "Uncle, please let me explain. He's—"

"I know exactly what that is!" your uncle spits, pulling back the safety on the shotgun with a loud click. "A goddamn monster. You have no idea what those things do," he says, voice cracking. "I've seen men—good men, my friends taken from me, by its kind. Yanked right off our ship's railing and into their waiting mouths. It's nothing but a bloodthirsty animal that—"

"Stop!" you interrupt him with a shout, surprising yourself with the tenacity in your voice. You feel Hongjoong's hand wrap around your ankle, probably trying to tell you to stop—but you can't. You won't. "He's not a single thing like that. His name is Hongjoong. He's never even drowned anyone, let anyone killed and eaten anyone, Uncle. You have—"

"It's got you under it's spell," your uncle says, horrified. "Oh, my poor Y/N. I'll kill this nasty beast and free you from this trap."

You practically scream the next time you open your mouth. "No! You can't!" There's tears streaming down your face now, and the intensity of your emotions must be a surprise to your uncle, if the look of shock on his face is anything to go by. "Uncle—I'm begging you," you plead, sobbing. "I'll do anything. Please, please don't hurt him. He's my friend."

Something strange flickers over your uncle's features. He drops the barrel ever so slightly from being pointed at you. "Your friend, huh?"

You nod as you choke back another sob. "I love him." It's the first time you've admitted it—to yourself, let alone out loud—but you know it's the truth. Has been for longer than you've been aware, most likely.

That admission causes your uncle to drop the barrel entirely, holding the shotgun down in one hand and letting his other arm rest at his side. "My Y/N," he says, after a moment with a sigh.

"I've always wanted the best for you. I lived with your mother for eighteen years growing up, up until she met your father and had you and your brothers. I know how...how demanding she can be," he says with a laugh, one you don't reciprocate. "I know her tendencies all too well. She's my sister, and she'll always be my sister—but that doesn't mean I think she's a good person. I've tried to show you that there's a different path in life. That you don't have to do things her way. This...isn't what I thought you'd do," he says, laughing emptily again. "But I would never want to do anything that would hurt you on any level close to what I know she's caused you."

Your uncle swallows. Takes a breath. "I swore an oath," he says, steadier now. "In the navy. When I see anything like this, when any of us do—I'm honor-bound to report it. The local unit will be over here in under half an hour. Maybe even sooner."

You feel yourself holding your breath.

"So," he says, sighing as he meets your gaze down the dock. "You two...had just better not be here by the time they show up."

Before you can say anything in response—or perhaps before he can change his mind, your uncle turns on his heel and walks back towards the house.

You turn back around to face Hongjoong, sinking to your knees—and the minute you do, you feel tears streaming back down your face again.

He immediately pushes himself up onto the dock, grabbing hold of your face and brushing away the tears the instant they fall. "Y/N," he whispers. "You didn't have to do that. I...I love you. I would've gladly taken a bullet from your uncle if it meant you'd be safe."

Your eyes well with tears again, a shaky laugh leaving you. "Shit," you whisper back. "I don't—I don't know what to do, I just...just wanted to show you this stupid drawing," you say, laughing shakily. "And now I've ruined both of our lives. I'll never see you again."

"No. You haven't," Hongjoong says firmly, squeezing your cheeks in his hands.

You grab hold of his wrists. "Hongjoong—you have to get out of here. You...you said you have family everywhere, right? Go anywhere else. Please."

"No," Hongjoong says suddenly, straightening up the instant your hands wrap around his wrists. "Where did you say that school you were going to for your art was?"

You tell him. "It's on the coast, but it's not nearly as close to the sea as we are here, I—"

He interrupts you again. "I'll find you."

You let out an unbelieving laugh. "Hongjoong, there's no way—"

"I'll find you," he repeats, hands still cupping your face firmly. "On the name of the full moon that night you found me—on that stupid apple that led me to you. I'll find you. And then, you can let me see that drawing."

He leans forward, his lips pressing against yours in a messy kiss—all teeth and salty tears and hands squeezing too tight, or maybe not tight enough—before he lets go of you, pushing himself off the dock and into the water. You see one flick of his tail before he descends deep beneath the surface, and it's not long at all as you sit there, chest heaving and cheeks stained, before the waves are gone and the sea stills, and it's like Hongjoong was never there at all.

Fall semester has left you busier than you could have ever dreamed. You've never done this many sketches in a week, never tried this many different techniques at once, never spent this many all-nighters on a single project—but you'd be lying if you said you weren't still enjoying every second of it.

Your job keeps you plenty busy, too—your roommate had been kind enough to put in a good word at the campus library and gotten you a job in the coffee shop on the first floor. You're taking as many shifts as you can, but the pay isn't bad, all things considered. You may not have to take a semester off after all.

But the diving club keeps you almost busier than both your work and assignments combined. You've already logged more hours than any of the other freshman, and some of the upperclassmen, too. If the club captain has noticed how you're always late packing up after a dive, she hasn't reprimanded you. Maybe she's noticed the unique shells you seem to always come back with, or the skip in your step as you pack up your scuba gear, rolling a shiny bracelet over your wrist—or maybe she's noticed something else, entirely.

After all—last summer, you had been so sure that there was nothing like Hongjoong living below the water's surface. Of course, that didn't mean other people didn't already believe otherwise.

a/n: happy holidays !! i hope everyone is staying warm and healthy and having a lovely week so far <3

and finally…this title escapes my wip list 😭 y’all. i have been working on this on and off since late 2021—sometimes you can have an idea, have absolutely no inspo to write past halfway through, and then write 5k in one night. 💀 no such thing as a perfect project ofc but i do hope you enjoyed this oneshot! feedback is always welcome through reblogs, comments, and messages 🫶🫶 thank you sm for reading!

taglist: @petrichor-han @kangroo-chan @ot7lonelylover @lilacdreams-00 @mainexiii @awkwardnesshabitat @lotus-dly @elizabeth11moreno @nerdysl-t @seung-scrittore @fireheaurt

©️ noramoons 2021-2023. do not translate or reupload my writing.

#hongjoong x reader #kim hongjoong x reader #ateez oneshot #ateez x reader #ateez fluff #ateez angst #hongjoong fic #hongjoong fluff #hongjoong angst #hongjoong x gender neutral reader #hongjoong oneshot #ateez fic #beck writes ✍️

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allwaswell16 · 2 months

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A fic rec of One Direction fics where Louis is a villain of some sort as requested in an ask I can no longer find oof Hope you see this rec whoever asked for it! If you enjoy the fics, please leave kudos and comments for the writers! You can find my other fic recs here. Happy reading!

- Louis/Harry -

💀 Wanted Most by BornOnABeach

(E, 156k, thief Louis) Louis Tomlinson is a thief, and a damn good one at that. Most have heard of him. Most don't understand him. And Harry Styles is the FBI agent who can never seem to catch him.

💀 Cover Me with Jewels by ShatteredGlassHouse / @larryislove

(E, 55k, thief Louis) the one where Louis is a jewel thief and dating Harry Styles, the heir to a designer jewellery business empire, but Louis worries Harry will discover him, so he disappears for five years.

💀 Tied Down by HamPalpert

(E, 48k, drug dealer Louis) The most interesting case in Liam and Niall's careers falls directly into their laps, courtesy of an epic fuck-up of one Harry Styles, partner to the almost-infamous drug dealer Louis Tomlinson.

💀 I'll Throw Away My Faith (Just To Keep You Safe) by @theboyfriendstagram

(E, 42k, assassin Louis) AU. Harry Styles is an MI6 agent on a mission to find out who’s planning on killing the Prime Minister. Louis Tomlinson is a wanted professional assassin, hired by the MI6 to kill whoever wants to kill the Prime Minister.

💀 Please, Deceive Me by Larringiscaring

(E, 42k, thief Louis) Louis robs casino's with his ex-boyfriend, and Harry trusts a criminal a little more than he should

💀 no pressure, no diamonds by @karamelised

(E, 42k, thief Louis) Louis is a thief, Harry a grifter. They are thrown together for a huge diamond heist in Paris, where their past soon catches up to them.

💀 Buried Like Treasure by QuickedWeen / @becomeawendybird

(E, 40k, thief Louis) Semi-retired thief Louis Tomlinson has been pulled in for one last job: steal a painting from an uninhabited mansion. Neither one of them expects a natural disaster.

💀 The Risen (series) by @creamcoffeelou

(E, 28k, cult au) In search of the next breaking story, Harry goes off to do something no one else has been able to do: get the scoop on Louis Tomlinson and his devoted group of followers.

💀 For You, I Will (I Don't Believe in Magic, but) by theweightofmywords / @lil0

(E, 17k, criminal Louis) Louis leads two lives, when all he wants is a simple one with Harry.

💀 focal point by rainbowsandgucci

(M, 8k, thief Louis) By the time you read this, I’ll be gone, so don’t bother looking. Last night was lovely, Harry, I’m sure you agree. Sorry to run, but that’s just how life works sometimes, I’m sure you understand. Don’t forget about me. xx P.S. Thanks for the money

💀 Daisy by Jennifer_Kaid / @poetsreprieve

(E, 3k, mob au) An assassin who lurks in shadows, who kills with a detachment towards his victims, their death always displayed artfully for anyone who stumbles upon the corpse once his work is done.

💀 Stealing My Trust by Phillipa19

(E, 3k, organized crime) Harry hates the danger Louis' 'job' puts him in, but no one ever said being in love with a criminal would be easy.

💀 we're swimming with the sharks until we drown by velvetnoodle

(T, 3k, thief Louis) There’s only one thing that makes Harry’s job on the casino floor bearable, and that’s a chance to grab the attention of the mysterious man who frequents the establishment often.

💀 How to Catch a Christmas Tree by Anonymous

(E, 2k, omegaverse) It's two days until Christmas and Harry needs a Christmas tree.

💀 Marionette by Anonymous

(E, 2k, witch Louis) Harry is a vampire on the hunt. He doesn’t know that he’s not the top of the food chain.

💀 The shape I've made you into by flamboyo / @riverswater

(M, 1k, established relationship) "Sometimes, I wish you'd hit me."

💀 Twenty-Eight by @beardyboyzx

(M, 1k, spy au) Agent Harry Styles has finally caught his nemesis, but there's a knot in the plot he's not ready to detangle.

- Rare Pairs -

💀 To Catch a Thief by StormDancer

(E, 49k, Zayn/Louis) There are some rules even thieves have trouble breaking. Marriage vows, for instance.

#ficrec #villain louis #1dficvillage #hltracks #trackinghome #trackinghappily #tracksintheam #ficsfor4am #1dsource

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beamtori · 7 months

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𝐬𝐭𝐮𝐩𝐢𝐝.

nonidol!ji changmin x afab!reader

2.4k words (HELP it's only this long bc there's like an actual plot low-key 😭💀), smut (minors dni), cunnilingus (face sitting/riding), cum drinking(??), kind of fingering?, kissing, swearing, descriptions of blood/stitching, mentions of violence/fighting/weaponry, changmin's a boxer? fighter dude?, a lot of arguing and banter, use of pet names (spitfire, baby), angst HAHA!

a/n: once again, this was FOR ME. :l if im being so for real tho, i should have made them fuck piv bc that would have actually scratched my itch, but i just had to go and make him injured 🙄

Ji Changmin was stupid.

"You are so—"

"Stupid? Yeah, you've said that five times already."

"—annoying," you finished with a snide, little smile, relishing in the way his pretty eyes rolled. You gave the thread between your fingers a forceful tug through your gritted teeth to snap the end off; a part of you loved the way he flinched.

You and he were currently holed up in the dimly lit space of your bedroom where he was getting blood all over your sheets, and stupidity all over your floor. (Did you say you thought he was stupid yet? No? Well, he was stupid.) The idiot had gone and gotten his stitches ripped out again, which was the exact opposite of what you told him to do.

You stood looming over him between his legs to take a look at his busted shoulder. The last time, he had gone out and gotten it sliced open. That would teach him to bring a gun next time—you shouldn't even talk about his fists. That would make you pop a blood vessel. His damn knuckles were split open like a row of splattered blueberries—blue and purple and ugh.

"When I come home for the day, the last thing I ever plan to do is more work," you muttered to him as you threaded your needle and began stitching up his gash again.

He winced slightly, digging his teeth into his bottom lip. "So you're saying you've never planned to do me?"

You met his eyes for a split second. His eyebrows flicked upward in suggestion; you made a particularly generous piercing into his skin.

"Shit," he hissed, sucking in a breath. "I said I was sorry."

"For what."

"For doing my job—"

Your eyes narrowed into a glare. "Your job? Your fucking job isn't to get the shit beat out of you every other night, Changmin."

"Oh, so you care now?" He fired back.

Your mouth snapped shut and you continued to work quietly. It wasn't like you didn't care about the nitwit, but you weren't about to admit it point-blank. His ears would never hear that you cared that much, but here you were, letting him into your apartment at god knew what time it was to patch him up again. You didn't know why he always came to you. You quit the boxing ring infirmary months ago, and yet, he always ended up at your doorstep.

When he realized you weren't going to say anything, his uninjured arm took your jaw between his fingers. He looked you in the eyes—you saw the dim lighting of the bedside lamp light a fire in his gaze. Or had that always been there? "You care about me."

You tore your head away. "Oh, fuck you."

His grin was wolfish. "Is that an invitation?"

"One day—" you huffed, knotting the thread and tossing the bloodied needle and tweezers onto the nightstand, "—I'm gonna rip you a new one, Ji Changmin. Or maybe you don't need one 'cause you're already a huge asshole."

He gazed at you, and you weren't sure what it was, but he looked enamored. "Fuck—can you just sit on my face already?"

Everything halted for you. "What?"

"Come on, spitfire; you heard me." His head cocked to the side in challenge. "Sit on my face. My arm might be useless, but my tongue sure isn't—"

"I'll be back," you interrupted sharply before your face got any hotter. You could feel his eyes on you as you scurried into the bathroom next door like a little field mouse.

His audacity was going to drive you to insanity one day.

You found the extra package of gauze and bandages in your medicine cabinet, the ones you had forgotten to grab when he'd come stumbling into your bedroom. You weren't sure why you hadn't forced him onto the kitchen counter like usual, but that was a worry for another time.

He was still there waiting for you. Your gloved hands were bloody and there was a pile of tissues on the ground that you would have to clean up later. You returned to your space between his legs and felt his heavy gaze on you as you pressed gauze to his shoulder and began to wrap his arm back up.

"Yn, I'm sorry."

You pressed your lips together, finishing off the wrap with a small pat on the side of his arm. "You're good to go," you said, "now leave so I can clean up."

You were snapping off your gloves when you heard him get up and approach you. "Yn."

"Don't wanna hear it." You kind of did want to hear it, but that wasn't the point. The point was that you needed to stand your ground and ensure he wasn't about to come running back to you every single time he fucked up.

Hands on your shoulders. The world spun for a quick second. He pressed you up against the bathroom door with the gloves dangling from your fingers and your dignity just two seconds away from dropping. You could see the gleam of sweat on his brow, how deep his dimples dipped into his cheeks; you could smell his musk and the blood, the latter having been slightly muffled now that the wound was closed up, but there was still the matter of all the other blood-stained surfaces.

"If this is another thing to get me in bed with you, then you can forget about it," you said. It happened twice before; you really couldn't do it a third time.

"Can you just listen to me for once?"

"Ah, so just like all the times you listened to me?"

Changmin fixed you with a look. "Has it ever fucking occurred to you that I keep getting hurt so I have an excuse to come see you again?"

Your breath hitched. No, that had certainly not occurred to you. But why would he deliberately get hurt all the time just to see you? Could he not just… see you? Then again, you probably would have still been skeptical of his motives—

"No matter how hard I get hit, Yn; no matter how hard you pinch me with your fucking needle—"

"Why?" You asked. Though the word was soft, it was enough to cut through.

He blinked, his good arm bracing against the door behind you. "Isn't it obvious? I like your stupid face."

Your heart slammed against your ribcage. You could hear it thundering in your ears, the battering of a drum. "You're insane," you swallowed.

"Insane about you." He let out something akin to a laugh, head ducking, but you could see the imprint of dimples in his cheeks. "Isn't that crazy? I'm doing all of this shit because I didn't have the balls to just tell you from the get go."

Changmin dropped his hand to your face, the rough pads of his fingers finding your chin again. His eyes met yours and you could see the softness of the corners, the tenderness of his irises as he looked at you. Perhaps the fire you always saw sparked in them were there for a reason different from what you assumed.

"You're not gonna say anything?" He murmured with a swallow. "Not gonna give me a piece of that spitfire mind this time?" Had he read the signs wrong?

"Why would you go and get yourself beat up just to see me?" That was all you were able to get out of your mouth.

He licked his lips. "'Cause I—I don't know. I'm stupid. Wanted an excuse for you to touch me."

"Glad we can agree on something," you said. "But I like your stupid face, too."

And it was the lack of space that coaxed you into pressing your lips against his. Or maybe it was the coat of saliva over them that made them look so appetizing. Or maybe, more simply, this was long overdue. Twice you had fallen into bed with the boxer, and yet, you couldn't count the number of times you'd shared a kiss with him, shared the same air as him.

You were careful about his injured shoulder, the corresponding arm draping around your waist while the other still clutched your chin, but now cupped your cheek.

A moan slipped out of you as he swiped his tongue over your lip and into your mouth. Your back pressed flush against the door, your body shoved between it and Changmin.

"Wanna taste you," he husked between kisses, taking every breath from your lungs like a souvenir for him to keep. "I have to taste you—been craving you for weeks."

His words curled something sweet in your belly, but you had to protest. "Your shoulder—"

"Fuck my shoulder."

You shoved him off for a second, the both of you heaving for oxygen with pupils dark and dilated. "What do you mean 'fuck my shoulder?' I just fixed the stitches, Changmin."

He exhaled and carded a hand through his hair, taking one of your hands pressed to his chest into his. "Then sit on my face. I don't have to be on top this time."

"You're impossible."

"Not impossible," he shook his head, a smile working its way onto his face.

You sighed as he kissed you again.

That was how you ended up backing him up against the edge of your bed and pushing him down to take a seat. He grabbed your waist with his hands as you stood between his legs, lips molded into yours. You placed your palm on his chest to coax him backwards.

You climbed over him, letting yourself straddle his waist.

His fingers slid down the front of your body to cup you through the fabric of your shorts. "You wet for me?" He muttered.

"Bone fucking dry," you quipped.

His fingers slipped beneath the waistband and you felt him smirk. "Liar."

He found the wet spot in your panties, dragging his fingers in lazy circles like he was collecting your arousal as proof. You made a soft noise against his mouth and subtly grinded yourself into his digits.

"Okay, get your cute butt up here," he said and abruptly removed his fingers from you, giving your ass an affectionate pat.

You sat down on the bed beside him to kick your shorts and panties off. "You're so demanding," you grumbled, but straddled him again and slowly inched yourself up.

He grabbed your hips and hauled you over his face for you, a squeak falling out of your mouth. "You were going too slow," he said to you with his voice slightly muffled.

"And I haven't done this before." You let out a shuddering breath, bracing your palms on the bed above his head. His breath on your wet lower lips made you grasp at his hair.

"Baby's a little shy?" He cooed, massaging your hip with his hand. "Oh, fuck me. Sit, Yn."

"I'm literally—oh."

The flat of his tongue pressed against your pussy and licked a generous stripe up your opening.

You swore and grinded yourself down onto his mouth. "Are you—" you gasped, his lips suckling your clit, "—can you even breathe?"

"Why would I wanna breathe? I'm doing just fine," Changmin replied in a heavy daze. You heard him inhale deeply and moan. The sound itself was enough to make your thighs shake around his head.

He prodded your opening with his tongue, fingers digging into the globes of your ass like he was holding a bowl and drinking from it. Tongue fucking you open, his nose bumped against your clit with the movement. That telltale tension slowly built and curled in your belly, a warm coil of something molten.

You weren't sure how he was even curling his tongue so far up into you, but you grappled his strands of hair like reigns and rode him. The pleasure mounting in you was sweet and you were growing desperate—you writhed on top of him, his name engraving itself in your mouth.

"Changmin," you gasped in your frantic chase for release.

His reply was a strong hand anchoring you to his mouth, encouraging you to use him for your own pleasure.

When that high came, you cried out, body staggering forward. His hands still chained you to him as he slurped your slick up. The sound was obscene, and seemed to echo in the walls of your bedroom. Your thighs convulsed from the extra stimulation.

You huffed, brain muddled. "Fucking hell," you said through labored breaths, gently lowering yourself onto the bed next to him when he loosened his grip.

The sight of his face was nearly enough to make you come again. His skin glistened with your come, eyes glazed over and dark as he looked at you with his head lolled to the side. His lips were pink and plump, and his tongue darted out to swipe over them as if he were catching any residual fluid.

"You doing okay over there, Min?" You asked, leaning over to brush his bangs from his forehead.

"Yeah, I'm—" he let out a laugh and his mouth curled into a smile, "—I'm fantastic."

You laughed, hanging your head.

"I've always wanted to do that," he admitted.

"Yeah?"

"Even better than I thought, to be honest."

Your skin heated at his words, and his warm chuckle following sent a jolt down to your core. He reached over with his good arm to thumb your chin up. "I meant what I said, by the way."

"That you're stupid?"

He rolled his eyes, and shook your head with his hand. "No—that I'm crazy about you."

There went your heart again. The organ in your chest never failed to skip every other beat when it came to him. He just had a way of making you trip in the best way possible.

You squeezed your thighs together, his eyes darting at the movement. "Wish you would have just told me sooner."

"I should've," he agreed. "But let me make it up to you now."

You crawled over him and lowered your lips over his; you could still taste yourself on his tongue. "Not with this injured shoulder, you're not."

He groaned in protest, reaching around your body to pinch your side. "Damn."

"But," you drawled while sliding your hand down the length of his body and cupping his cock through his jeans.

His hand grabbed at your thigh as he moaned into your mouth.

"That doesn't mean I can't do anything for you."

a/n: imagine the image in the banner is how he looks post-this-fic

tbz m.list

#the boyz smut #the boyz x reader #ji changmin smut #ji changmin x reader #changmin x reader #the boyz fanfic #the boyz imagines #the boyz drabbles #the boyz oneshot #the boyz scenarios #ji changmin oneshot #ji changmin imagines #ji changmin scenarios #ji changmin drabbles

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annbourbon · 6 months

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Mystic Messenger Timeline (Explained)

I'll be obviously skipping a lot of stuff in between, but this is just to make things clear. It's not the way you're supposed to play, just the timeline.

⚠️ Contains Spoilers ⚠️

⚠️⚠️ Spoilers ahead ⚠️⚠️

⚠️⚠️ You've been warned ⚠️⚠️

First Rika Behind the Story (DLC)

Then I'll start counting as Year 1, the events that lead to the RFA and Mint Eye foundation.

Year 1:

V and Rika know each other

They meet Saeyoung

Saeyoung leaves

Rika kills the Twins's mom

Rika gets engaged to V

Mika and Rika (Mina) create 1st draft of Mint Eye

V buys the department

*on that note, seems that there are 4 cameras but Saeyoung only knows of one*

**This also implies that Saeran was abused as soon as V and Saeyoung took their eyes off of him since Rika used Saeran as model to defeat Saeyoung's skills as a hacker.

***What happens because neither Saeyoung nor V know anything about Saeran whenever they reunite for RFA parties and their engagement? Why no one asked anything?

Year 2:

Rika meets Jumin

RFA begins (yes, it was Mint Eye first, and the reason why the name was Magenta first. Mika?)

RFA 1st party is held

Jaehee joins RFA

Rika kills Sally

RFA 2nd party is held

According to V and Saeyoung this is where the hacker starts attacking the RFA (first time)

Rika blinds V

Saeyoung installed the Special System. AKA: The Bomb

Plot holes: Where's Mika? Why they don't notice there's another person living there? It's not that easy to hide your presence 💀

But according to V, he knew about Mika. It's at least implied.

10. According to several chats during Yoosung route, they barely paid attention to V being blinded. This of course included Zen, Yoosung, and Jumin (who is worried and suspects something but doesn't intervene despite V having severe corneal damage from external trauma)

11. There's a point where Jumin admits barely seeing Rika after the 2nd party. Meeting with her and V for the last time 3 months before her death. Yoosung Route. Day 9. Chat room 7AM called V's eyes.

*At the same time, there's a line, I forgot where exactly, that says that both, Rika and V called off their engagement at some point. They don't say anything about coming back together after that. wtf!?*

12. "Rika commits suicide"

Another Story

1 month after her death, prologue.

Five months later

*means 4 months after they break up their engagement? Assuming they did not break up before but because of Rika behavior blinding him. Which kind of solves the plot holes from Year 1 setting Mika on the apartment and V not fully knowing but suspecting, although it would be impossible or almost impossible without his eyes do something about it. Especially since his blindness is recent. If you need to understand a bit more about blindness watch my post on Rika killing Sally. It may be a dog, unlike V lol but it's still enough information to set up the rest of the story.

Anyways, let's go back to our timeline no?

Bad ending prologue #1 (Casual & Deep) and #2 (Another) are part of the same story and unlikely that it is set into an *alternative route* like some people like to say. Bad ending prologues even from Another Story seem to fit almost too perfectly when you think about it, but only if you agree to go with Unknown after rejecting him several times.

Because it would fit into the idea that the MC's were captured by the cult and discarded after a while (or put to work under Mint Eye. But also because according to the opening on the Casual and Deep, it would mean that Saeran's been watching you, so does Saeyoung.)

As I said before, the other MC's are either dead or anything but MIA (whatever that means for Mint Eye?) and this one, the brunette, is selected and it's the only one who survives and passed the whole trial. Not at first but it doesn't matter. This MC is not dead. The others are. You think "The others" are just the player with different image? I've got news for you, each one of this has a number~ check this post ^^

Either you become the assistant of Unknown with that bad ending which is an option available for every prologue or you enter Day 1 to Day 4 of Another Story and play throughout to reach:

Day 6 and Day 10 from Ray/Saeran Route which are part of the same ending. They're not a different ending. Both however lead to the Casual Route, Day 1 (after the prologue)

Which means, if you get the bad ending in the prologue of Casual/Deep you'll be going back to Mint Eye. Yes. It's not supposed to be your first rodeo there. And if you have a Bad Ending on Mint Eye, you're brainwashed andd set on Casual/Deep (You're supposed to be an spy, but who do you work for? Are you a victim or a villainess? that's another story 😜)

My theory?

*This is where I'm still stuck, so I'll be fixing major plots here and there and editing this same post over and over until I get it right. Please bear with me 😭*

Rika DLC > 1st party > Rika gets engaged > Saeyoung leaves > Rika kills Sally > Rika kills Saeran's mom > Rika starts torturing Saeran > Mint Eye begins > 2nd party > Hacker attack > Bomb is installed > Rika blinds V > Rika dies > Another Story (prologue) > Another Story (Day 1 to 4) > Another Story (Day 6 & 10, bad relationship both of them) obviously with what causes these bad endings > Casual Route (with bad endings included) > Deep Story (with bad endings included) > Secret Endings (except for V dying, we'll get there) > Another Story again but V route happens first (no happy or normal ending) and then something weird happens:

And this part if I'm being honest, I have no idea but I'm fixing it cause my theory is that

V and Saeran's route become so intertwined that is almost impossible to know what happened.

The bomb on Mint Eye? Saeran? Although it is suggesting in the bad endings that he died, we never saw that to happen.

V dying in the secret endings?

Saeran burn?

Seven does mention a couple of numbers, associated with the other MCs, somewhere in the game. Unfortunately I can't remember if it's on a call or a chat so I'm going back all over again because I was so shocked at the time I was unable to take a screenshot.

Truth to be said I can't fully find the order rn but! I will, I definitely will. I need time. I mean, more time. I've been working on this for 6 to 7 years now, I'm posting this because it's so big I can't keep it to myself and I'm freaking out here. So I'll be editing this in the future. As many of my other posts. Sorry lol

Ironically, Saeran's AE would be indeed the Final Ending.

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sashketter · 2 days

Text

Passing Stars (Chapter 1)

Summary: Din Djarin meets Omega.

Word count: 1.9k

Warnings: Mild violence (blaster bolts, two implied deaths)

Notes: This takes place after The Book of Boba Fett and maybe before season 3 of The Mandalorian, I haven’t decided yet. I've actually had this idea since season 1 of The Bad Batch, wrote it all out last year when TBB and Mando overlapped for a month, and then forgot about it 💀 Now that TBB is ending, I wanted their story to continue. For ease of convenience, I’m ignoring Favroni's weird naming convention and keeping Din as his first name.

Din couldn’t believe it. For years, he had evaded stormtroopers, warlords, gangsters, and smugglers, carefully plotting his movements through the galaxy to minimize his chances of capture and complications. Whenever he found himself in a dog fight, shields down and cannons hot, he always found escape. This band of pirates, however, were unfamiliar to him. With the New Republic preoccupied with the Core and Mid Worlds, the Outer Rim remained the lawless frontier it had always been.

Din had stopped on a small planet to refuel the N-1 on his way back to Nevarro. The kid played in the grass while he looked over the ship, noting damage that could be handled later at better facilities. No point wasting more credits here, Din thought. Satisfied, he had knelt down to pick up Grogu when he felt something hard hit the base of his head, and everything went black.

He woke up sitting in a chair with his wrists tied together behind his back. Cool air met the ache in his jaw, and a chill ran throughout his body. He was in his flight suit, stripped of his helmet and armor. Anger and indignity flared on the edges of his hazy consciousness, but was soon replaced by sharp fear: Grogu was nowhere in sight.

With his heart beating in his ears, Din looked around the dingy room. He could make out a mix of Trandoshans and Weequays along the opposite wall, palming his Beskar like ancient artifacts, no doubt as rare and valuable as kyber crystals. He saw a door on the far side of the room just as a fist connected with his left temple. He was jerked to his feet, heavy as his battered head, towards the door and down a narrow corridor. Hyperspace flickered outside the portside windows.

“Put him in the brig with the girl,” a voice behind him said to the one holding his handcuffs.

“Together?” Din didn’t appreciate his captor’s tone.

“No, you karking scughole.” A muffled punch mingled with the sound of the lift doors opening. “In an empty one.”

Din was surprised by the size of the brig. Ship’s not big, he calculated. The edges of his vision were still blurry, but he could make out at least eight cells descending from a long, central platform, four on each side. The third on the right glowed red. When they stopped in front of it, he peered through the ray shield while his captor, one hand on his wrists, opened the opposing cell.

“Got company for ya, doll.” The pirate turned around and saw no one through the ray shield. “What?”

Shoved down five short steps to the floor of his cell, Din landed on his side, too sore and dazed to get up and see the pirate hurry to the other cell. He heard the opposing ray shield open as his closed. A few seconds of silence followed before sounds of a scuffle echoed across the platform. Din heard grunts and sharp blows land before the distinct sound of a neck snapping. He got to his feet, arms fused to his sides. He didn’t think to call out, still unused to the prolonged feel of air on his face and injuries.

Looking up through the flickering entrance of his cell, he saw a small shadow emerge on the platform. He couldn’t see her eyes grow wide with the discovery of another prisoner. She hurried to the panel next to his door and opened the ray shield.

“Are you alright,” she asked as he stood motionless at the bottom of the steps. “Are you hurt?”

She noticed his arms before he could answer. Her mouth opened and her right index finger shot up before she disappeared from view. As she made her way back down into her cell, Din tiptoed out of his. They reached the platform at the same time.

“Turn around,” she said, flashing the keys to his cuffs in her palm. The pirate’s blaster was tucked under her arm. He turned reluctantly, wary of being unarmed.

“You’re not hurt,” she pressed, concerned by his silence.

Din fumbled for words but finally coughed, “N-no, I’m fine.” He felt air on his wrists. “Thank you.”

“Good,” she said as he turned to face her. “I’m Meg.”

He hesitated, surprised by her friendliness. “Din.”

He looked down at her. Blonde hair curtained brown eyes where it wasn’t pulled back in a long braid that fell over her left shoulder. She was slight, yet strong and capable enough to overpower a Trandoshan alone. How’d they manage to knock her out, Din wondered. She also wore a flight suit, black and frayed at the hems.

She nodded. “I take it you didn’t come like this,” she asked. She held the blaster in both hands and motioned for him to follow her down the platform. On the wall past the empty cells was a panel with a monitor.

“Can you shoot,” she asked, grabbing the barrel of the blaster and pointing the handle towards Din. He stared at her a beat too long - she trusts too easily - before taking it and positioning his back to the wall.

With one hand on the wall next to the monitor, Meg started tapping on the panel’s keys, looking for schematics of the ship.

“They took my armor,” Din confessed. “And my child.”

“They separated you?” Meg’s fingers came off the panel briefly as her eyebrows scrunched and her head turned halfway towards Din. “That’s odd.” She shook her head and returned to the panel.

“There,” she said after a moment, pointing to the command deck on a map of the ship. Din turned to look at the monitor. “Looks like they’re holding your kid on the bridge. And your armor,” she moved her finger in an L shape over two corridors, “should be there with mine.”

Before he could ask, a blaster bolt sparked across the left corner of the monitor. Din and Meg ducked and turned around to face three pirates stumbling through closing doors. Din sent a bolt through the chest of one, the bottle of nog in his hand flying and spilling on the walls.

~~~

Din dressed quickly. Nothing was missing or out of place, all whistling birds accounted for. They had no idea what they had, he mused. He checked his scanner and found the N-1 onboard.

“Did you come with a ship,” he yelled at the wall. He had his back to Meg who was hidden behind two rows of crates.

“Yes,” she offered breathlessly. “But I’m not going anywhere without my droid.”

Din scoffed quietly, but swallowed his scorn. “Is it that important?” He holstered his blaster and wondered if they should part ways now.

“You have no idea,” Meg said. “But we’ll get your kid first.”

Din started to turn in her direction but stopped, respectful of her privacy as she continued to dress. I guess I can trust her, he concluded. “Thank you.”

Before he could put his helmet on, he heard Meg exclaim, “You’re a Mandalorian! Haven’t seen one of you in awhile.”

He turned around to face her. She stood in the middle of the room with her helmet tucked under her left arm, its front painted to look like a skull. It and the rest of her armor was weathered black with red and white markings. Is she older than she looks, Din wondered. Her armor was clearly old. Maybe she stole it. And it was familiar, even similar to his.

“Interesting armor,” he said as he put his helmet on and walked past her to the door. No time for questions.

“Not as shiny as yours,” she chuckled before putting her helmet on, too. She followed close behind, vibroblade in one hand and blaster in the other.

These pirates seemed uninterested in strategy. The route to the bridge was unguarded. The few that crossed Din and Meg’s path seemed to have more stumbled in their direction than intentionally sought them out.

“Why are you stunning them,” Din growled as he clotheslined one pirate while shooting another. They don’t deserve mercy.

Meg was handling her own pair a few steps ahead. “I don’t want to hurt them!”

When they reached the bridge, they found the doors jammed.

“Cover me,” Meg instructed. Shuffling behind Din, she punched the air with her left arm and unsheathed a scomp link under her vambrance. She plugged in and maneuvered through the ship’s protocols until she unlocked the command deck doors.

They walked onto an empty bridge. Din and Meg’s helmets turned slightly towards each other, confusion suffusing the air. Ahead, they could see the ship was still in hyperspace. On the right, Grogu was perched on a control panel, eyes and ears downcast. As he looked up at the sound of footsteps, he squealed and put his arms up. Din rushed over.

“You alright, kid,” Din asked, picking Grogu up. It was Din’s turn to examine something priceless in his hands.

Meanwhile, oblivious to the reunion on her right, Meg rushed to a table on the left where a droid had been taken apart, its head and arms separated from its torso. Wires connected the head to a monitor where lines of code and information appeared and quickly crawled up the screen.

“Oh, AZ, what did they do to you,” Meg sighed. She cradled his head in her hands, and his eyes flickered on slowly.

“O-O-O-Omega?” His voice ascended quickly to its usual register.

“I’m here.” She seemed to take a moment of silence before remembering where she was. “It’s alright, I can fix you” she said as she put his head down and started unplugging wires. “We’ve been through worse.”

A short minute passed before AZ’s eyes were fully lit. “L-l-l-l-look who-who-who else is he-he-he-here.”

Meg turned around and saw Din with a small, green creature in his hands. Her mouth opened but couldn’t find words. She hurried her helmet off and onto the table. Grogu saw her face and jumped out of Din’s hands, squealing and scurrying across the floor as quickly as his little body could take him. She covered the remaining distance and met him in the open expanse of the bridge, scooping him up in her arms and squeezing him to her chest, her chin on his fuzzy head. Grogu cooed excitedly, happily.

“What are you- How-?” She still couldn’t find words. She pulled him away to smile down at him. “I never thought I’d see you again.”

Din’s left foot came forward as his right hand jerked towards his blaster. They were smiling and laughing, momentarily forgetting him. He lowered his hand.

“You know each other,” he interrupted, more curious than cautious now.

Meg looked up. Delight dropped to disbelief as she eyed the Mandalorian, her face betraying her suspicion. “You said ‘your child’…”

Before Din could explain, Meg cradled Grogu in her left arm and aimed her blaster at Din’s T visor. The bolt whizzed past his helmet and sparked against the monitors behind him. His arms went up in surrender. Surprised, Meg looked down at Grogu. Recovering quickly from deflecting her shot, he motioned downward with his right hand and Forced Meg’s blaster out of her grip and onto the floor. Din lowered his arms and met her glare.

Without warning, the ship lurched forward and dropped out of hyperspace. The flickering lights through the viewport gave way to a golden haze from a yellow star far too bright to be at a safe distance. Before Din could register the panel behind Meg light up with each ejected escape pod, the proximity alert rang. I’ve got a bad feeling about this.

#star wars #the mandalorian #the bad batch #din djarin #tbb omega #star wars fanfiction #the mandalorian fanfiction #the bad batch fanfiction #*#fic

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hometothecanyonmoon · 1 year

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rating and reviewing BLs i have watched so far (unupdated as of april ‘23)

hi this is just a post that i wanted to include in my page but it was getting too long lmao. this is just like a list of all that i’ve watched so far, in order. i won’t be including their plots here, but there might be spoilers. these are just my opinions in case someone new wants to bond over shows and wants to know what i thought 🤌🏽

we best love (both seasons) - 10/10. first BL that i watched, lowkey changed my life. absolutely obsessed with it, comfort series that i keep rewatching. absolutely amazing acting by everyone involved.

history3: trapped - 8.5/10. tang yi. no words. beautiful acting and cinematography, the plot was handled pretty well and i was pretty much broken by the last episode. jack and zhao lian are my children. i’m still obsessed with the OST, i listen to it multiple times a week. just goes to show how much a good soundtrack can still keep a show in your mind even if you watched it months ago.

bad buddy - 1073392729/10. HOE MY GOD. where do i start. all i’ll say is i’ll never be the same, this series is IT for me. THE show for me. nothing will ever come close. one day i’m gonna meet p’aof and cry on my knees. i will never be able to put into words just how much this series means to me, or just how important it is to me, or just how influential this has been for my life. i’ll never be able to get over it.

2gether the series - 6/10. didn’t watch the second season because s1 was so disappointing even if i finished most of it in one night. brightwin are cute and all but they were giving brothers i’m sorry 💀 their chemistry just sizzled out halfway. and they both need acting lessons i’m sorry

love in the air - 9/10. fort thitipong simp forever. first show that i watched while it was ongoing. came for payurain, stayed for prapaisky. although it’s lowkey rapey (which is to be expected from mame) i loved how well they handled the characters

tharntype - 6/10. started because i had heard so much about it, but abandoned it halfway. aside from the dubious consent (again, mame, people can’t consent when they’re asleep), the internalised homophobia got too toxic

star in my mind - 7.5/10. joongdunk are adorable, but they could’ve done a little more with the plot. the Feels™️ were lacking a little bit. cute show overall though. and i’m one of the five people who will die on the hill that seanmaitee are canon and deserved an official kiss

semantic error - 8.5/10. first KBL that i watched, finished it in one day. very beautifully done, all the colour symbolism etc was interesting as hell. pretty cute, although i do wish we could’ve gotten more fluff

love mechanics - 8/10. saw a short on yt and was convinced about the angst. boyyyy was i wrong, it was so much more angsty than i thought. highkey toxic and unhealthy too, but i’ll let it go. forever simping over p’bar. the parents angle was annoying but eh. i will say though, i had to take a lot more breaks while watching than usual, it became too much at points. we did get a little fluff at least though so

my tooth your love - 9/10. yes i hate the title. very very nicely done, the perfect representation of how trauma affects you even when you’re older and just how much it holds you back. convos about mental health, therapy, not letting your lover treat you like shit, AAAAA 🤌🏽🤌🏽 finished this in one day too. they didn’t magically have a moment where they forgave each other and kissed after confessing. they both worked to prove they were in this for the long run, and xun’an didn’t hesitate to hold bai lang accountable for being a jerk. really breaking all the BL barriers sjdhsjh 😭😭 the only part that annoyed me was his dad beating him up like hello?? he’s 30?? 💀💀 fucking vile. but bai qing is an icon and i love her and i would die for her. simp for alex speaking in english randomly. him and rj deserved more scenes and they need to be canon now!!!!!

roommates of poongduck 304 - 7.5/10. i had heard SO much about this so i had high expectations but i was kind of let down, i mean we really only got them together in ep 7. the chemistry, acting and side characters were great but tbh i feel like i’d have loved this a lottttt more if it had been a little spaced out, more episodes, had better conflict resolution and just better overall detailing. still a cute watch though

currently watching:

never let me go - this series is going to break me, i already know. phenomenal acting, symbolism and cinematography. every wednesday you can find me crying because it is just so excellent, the brainrot is real. can’t wait for more episodes

my school president - OBSESSED with them for real. they’re the toned down version of bad buddy, which i have proven in a post. can’t wait for them to be their high school’s power couple. very very wholesome

those are all for now! i’ll keep updating this post as i watch more. my to-watch list is already overflowing but i’d love your recommendations too!! and i’m always willing to scream about any given show so feel free to join me. :) x

#we best love #history3: trapped #bad buddy #2gether the series #love in the air #tharntype #star in my mind #semantic error #love mechanics #my tooth your love #never let me go #my school president #phewwwwww #roommates of poongduck 304

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twogyuu · 11 months

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recommend 5 or more of your own works that you would rec to someone asking what they should read first & explain a little bit about the work. these can be the most popular, the ones you think are underrated, or your own favorites! then tag five other writers!

Tagged by the lovely @lily-blue - thank you! 💙

Tagging @dropsofletters and @wonwoonlight

. . . .

A Thousand Words Left Unsaid (Minghao)

I've mentioned this one before hahahaha! It is perhaps my least popular fic. However, to this day, I think this one is still one of my absolute favorite to write. I attempted to be poetic with it, portraying Minghao's life like an empty canvas waiting to be filled with the colors of OC (maybe I failed epically 💀?) and had a lot of fun experimenting with this different style of writing. As a lover and writer of angst, it was also almost everything I dreamed of lol and I'm proud I manifested it >.<

. . . .

Love Me Out Loud (Mingyu)

On the other end of the spectrum, this is my most popular fic to date. To be frank, I'm still not sure what about it that drew such a large audience because I almost didn't publish it if it weren't for the support of a moot, but I am grateful nonetheless. I think my writing peaked with this fic and I never wrote anything about Mingyu after 💀😅 This fic was a turning point for me in what I decided to write though. Admittedly, I poured a lot of personal feelings and projected a lot of insecurities onto Mingyu and OC 😅 The positive feedback from this fic made me more comfortable in being more vulnerable in my fics and exploring more relevant themes (and not always nice?) of being a young adult.

. . . .

Of Fate and Flames || Nameless || When the Sun Kisses the Moon (Wonwoo)

This drabble series(?) was never intended to get this out of hand, but with the hype from the lovely wonwoorideul @wisteria-woo (I am forever grateful lol) and inspo from the FML comeback (Super specifically), I couldn't help I had to elaborate on my ideas of firebender!wonwoo 🤣😂 The story as of right now is really fragmented and probably makes no sense. If I'm being honest though, I'm not sure if I'm ever going to write a cohesive series out of this (I do have everything plotted out . . .). Writing this thus far has really delighted my inner child and reignited the fun in writing again for me :)

. . . .

We Were Destined to Fall (But I'll Catch You) (Jeonghan)

This series was born out of Jeonghan's scenes in the HOT MV! I don't have much to say about this honestly, other than it is really bizarre compared to my other fics 😅 I like to think that most of my stories are realistic fiction, but this falls more into the realm of fantasy/historical/sci-fi. It's a slow WIP, but always really nice coming back to this OTP and the idea that just maybe people are destined for each other in every life 💙

. . . .

Feu D'Artifice (Vernon)

A snippet of a larger streetracer!au story (yes there's more 💀) highlighting a blooming relationship between racer!Vernon and mechanic!OC amidst blatant social inequities within the racing industry. I got inspiration for this fic from Baekho's song Festival In My Car and I think I was a pretty fresh dolly when I wrote it (at least no longer in denial LOL)? This snippet highlights the thrills of falling for someone for the first time. It's fluffy/crack laced with a little angst at the end! I don't usually ever read back on my own fics, but I do for this one! It makes me giddy and I really do love the comparison between fireworks and falling in love 😅

#twogyuu:ask games #twogyuu:recs #thank you for tagging kinga <3 #this was fun #lily-blue

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demonic0angel · 3 months

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The CN novels that inspired Ghost Games

All of these story recommendations have mlm or gay romances!! I wish I could offer other kinds of romance/horror CN novels but none of them inspire me much. Click on the names for the links!

Don't Pick Up Boyfriends From the Trash Bin: (recommended) A man dies and a system gets attached to him, before he goes into multiple worlds and saves the people he transmigrates into

(A brilliant webnovel that I absolutely adore because it manages to circumvent every bad stereotype of QT novels but the translations are slow. Ghost Games is specifically inspired by its 5th arc) [UNCOMPLETED]

Supernatural Movie Actor App: (recommended) A man finds an app where he has to "act" in horror movies to earn points for his wish to make his lover a body

(An amazing webnovel that is filled with fun, action, and suspense; the main characters are brilliant and I loved how each arc keeps you excited) [COMPLETED]

Card Room: A policeman and a forensic scientist accidentally fall into a game where they have to go through different trials in order to survive

(A fun and mysterious novel, tho it's very long (around 500 chapters) and I stopped halfway through) [COMPLETED]

Edit: I finished it! I recommend it only if you have the time to read it through, and although the ending suffered bc the author got lazy, it was actually a fun and interesting read! The cards/trials were all super interesting, so I had fun! (Recommended)

Kaleidoscope of Death: (recommended) A man accidentally enters the 12 doors, which is a supernatural event that can either save him or kill him

(Everyone and their mother is in the reviews section with EXACTLY identical reviews: "this novel is great but the plot twist is trash. Five stars" 💀. I agree with them. A fantastic and HELLA scary novel but as long as you avoid the extras (which holds the plot twist), the novel is amazing. After reading it, I was afraid to open cabinets for a while and no longer feared death 😔 it is so bloody) [COMPLETED]

High Energy QR Code: (recommended) A man tries to investigate his brother's death, and in doing so, falls into a game world

(I really enjoyed this fic bc it's similar to Supernatural Movie Actor App where the MC is naturally intelligent without seeming obnoxious, and the stories and arcs are all well thought out, creative, and fun. There's also somewhat found family, which I love. It was so much better than what I was expecting, but then again, the author has always made amazing stories (They’ve literally created the most highly rated novel on NovelUpdates and that novel inspired me as a person fr fr no cap. Highly recommend!!! It will change your life!!)) [UNCOMPLETED]

A Crowd of Evil Spirits Line Up to Confess to Me: A man who can see ghosts gets pulled into a ghost game, but there's always a ghost in it that seems to fall in love with him

(A fun novel with a protagonist that is kind but doesn't feel like Virgin Mary, but the translations are slow and I stopped reading bc of it) [UNCOMPLETED]

Non-Human Seeing Re-Employment: An ancient ghost finally gets his own human body before he gets sucked into a horror game

(A nonsensical and crackish webnovel with overpowered MC and ML; read it for fun, not for plot) [COMPLETED]

After the Little Crybaby Enters the Nightmare Cycle: A ghost gains a new body and then gets himself transported into a horror game to earn wishes

(Actually, I dropped this story really early on bc it was like… a less interesting and more boring version of Supernatural Movie Actor App 😶 like it had nearly all the same ideas but it was executed quite plainly and when I caught myself complaining about it, I realized I didn’t have to suffer through it so I dropped it. It’s not bad, just ordinary imo. One of its arcs DID inspire me tho so… you can make your own opinions about it) [COMPLETED]

#story recommendation #danmei #ghost game au #dpxdc #dcxdp #if you’d like to chat more about my recs or CN novels in general I am here and willing to talk :3 #don’t be afraid :))) ask me questions :))) go on :))) ask :)))#feel free to ask questions #cn novels #translated literature

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cheezbites · 7 months

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Ranking Tropes

This is for my (uninspired) writers or (inexperienced) readers out there😋. I will be updating this often so next time you check this post new tropes may be added !!<3

Enemies to Lovers

8.5/10

I would've gave this a higher ranking if the protagonists were enemies for longer… most of the time, it's like there enemies for a day or two and then the next chapter they're alread head over heals for each other. And when they are enemies it's like where's the enemy-ing?! Where are the fights and arguments - like tell me why I should hate this person, ya know? (Hate sex is a W)

Friends to Lovers

7/10

I mean it's a pretty solid trope but most of the time it gets boring and repetitive, I can't really comment on this one to be honest. And sometimes it's corny but on the other hand it's so wholesome and has me kicking my feet and shit.😭💞😤

Mafia

6/10

If I could get one dollar for each time someone has done the mafia trope I'd be a billionaire, no joke. I mean yeah, it's overrated. But things are ‘overrated’ because they're good (sometimes) but this is another level of overrated. IT STILL IS GOOD, THIS ISNT ME SHITTING ON PEOPLE WHO LIKE THE MAFIA TROPE, sometimes I do quite enjoy it.

Love Triangle

9.7/10

Yes. Next question. (I don’t know what else to add to this LOL. But I do find myself favouring one S/O over the other when reading these 💀).

Love Square

8/10

Ooh we in geometry now💁🏽‍♀️. But in all seriousness, sometimes it do be getting confusing and I think you’re better off just doing a triangle. (If y’all don’t know what this is it’s basically three S/Os, sometimes there’s drama and conflict the or it’s an open relationship)

Teacher

9.9/10

I’m incapable of ranking things ten because there’s no such thing as perfection, but the teacher trope just might be the epitome of it😍. These are so fun to be read or maybe it’s just my daddy issues … but we move!

Dom Female + Sub Male

9.999/10

Um, yes. These ones really stand out to me because they're just different from the rest, when was the last time y'all ever read a dom female and sub male trope before? Exactly. We need more of these for real!

Stalker

8.9/10

I literally do not have any boundaries whatsoever so I love reading these so much. And it makes me feel like i’m being watched IRL after reading 😔☠️

Knight

9/10

The knight trope should honestly be done more, especially with me being a history girly. I like reading these in plummy British accents to enhance the plot 😏

Academic Rivals

9.7/10

Okay I haven’t really read much of these BUT it’s giving the same energy as enemies to lovers so that’s why I think it’s getting such a high rankinggg ! You can never go wrong with a good academic rivals. Period, (but I don’t think you can make the whole story revolve around this trope there needs to be other elements).

Younger x Older

8.5/10

This is also a pretty solid concept but it gets sort of hard to make these interesting plot wise. Also, I mean younger x older in a legal way !! 😓

Dad’s Bestfriend

9.5/10

I’ve read one before and it was good so that does the rating justice, older men just😋

(Apartment) Neighbours

7/10

This one’s USUALLY overdone when writers are feeling a tad bit lazy. And honestly, been there done that. This is still a cute trope and there are so many ideas that come along with it!

Gangster x Civilian

8/10

This one gets a solid eight because sometimes they're so interesting on the other hand they're eh. They need to be executed properly in order to be good, like how does the civilian react to the constant crime life and the death and the bloodshed and whatever, ya know?!

Forced Proximity

8.55/10

You can’t go wrong with this, but what you can do with the plot gets as limited as the space between the characters (no pun intended) the writers always serve as always when doing these so it gets a solid eight point fifty five .

Forced Marriage

6/10

Me personally, I don’t believe in marriage nor see myself getting married in the future but they’re usually interesting plot wise unlike the trope. I just find it pretty boring.

Rich and Poor

7.5/10

I mean I love the feeling of being spoiled, don’t get me wrong on that. But this trope also needs more elements added to it so it’s not boring, you can’t just have the whole story about the S/O providing for the damsel in distress :( unless you want to then more power to you

Forbidden Love

8.7/10

This just enhances the love for me, I don’t know what it is about this trope that I like so much but oh wellllll

Fake Relationship

4/10

I’m so sorry 😞 the plot is always so so so predictable. It’s like I’m five steps ahead and I’ve already read it. This is so hypocritical in retrospect as I might write a little something with this trope

Share your opinions in the comments or recommend other tropes for me to rank! 💗🌸

Masterlist

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urostakako · 3 months

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@cursedvibes ty for tagging me ik it was a while ago 😭

20 Questions for Fic Writers

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

on my profile 32, i think? (but actually 35)

2. Whats your total word count?

59,890 tho i do have like 56000 more words in orphaned works

3. What fandoms do you write for?

primarily Jujutsu Kaisen, i had some ideas for other fandoms but those remain as wips... honestly after this tsumiki one im not sure i will be writing for a while siebjfneofneod

4. What are your top five fics by kudos?

there's a fire in my brain and im burning up (itadori)

this tired old machine is a-rumbling (higuruma)

the devil's after both of us (itafushi)

oh, lay my curses out to rest (tokyo students + shoko)

oh, ashes ashes dust to dust (nobamaki)

(this makes me upset im not gonna lie cuz looking back and reading these im struck by how mid they are but sjdbdkneodks its whatever)

5. do you respond to comments? why or why not?

i do for the most part !! i love receiving comments and i want people to know how much i appreciate it :) i also love when ppl reply to comments i leave on their fics so i want to do the same

6. what's the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

ummm my Curses series was more one-shots without actual plot.. and as many of those were shibuya or post shibuya they were all pretty angsty beifbekdjeodk. i wouldnt say any have this kind of ending because then there would have to be a story. but i would say the saddest one ive written is 'keep running for the sink but the well is dry'

7. what's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

'light of a new morning' for sure. this one actually had some kind of development i would say. also i have bias because this is one of the only three ive written that dont totally suck. though the tsumiki wip im working on for sure will have an even happier ending

8. do you get hate on fic?

im not popular enough for that lol

9. do you write smut?

10. do you write crossovers?

i had one in mind a while ago but it escaped me... i never have before but that doesnt mean i never will, even if it is unlikely

11. have you ever had a fic stolen?

i dont think so

12. have you ever had a fic translated?

no but id be honored if so. especially if it was one im proud of

13. have you ever co-written a fic before?

no, but im open to the idea

14. whats your all-time favorite ship?

i go through phases so i cant really answer this lol. my interest waxes and wanes. rn though im really obsessed with uroyuki and in a satosugu phase

15. whats a wip you want to finish but probably won't?

there is a shokohime wip i started two or so years ago about shoko's backstory and the developing of their relationship up until the present but at some point there was a research aspect to it and i thought 'ill do it later'. and then i never did 💀 id like to continue it but i still lowk think it will sit there.. i dont have enough motivation to do research ekdbfkenfkdk

there is also a trigun one i started, it was kind of plotless, just vibes, but i wasnt able to get their dialogue right and idk. maybe when i get into a trigun phase again ill find inspiration and continue

16. what are your writing strengths?

i think im good at describing a scene and emotions. im good at making this kind of poetry

17. what are your writing weaknesses?

im soooo shit at dialogue and even when im not shit at it i keep overthinking it and ruin it anyway lol

18. thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic?

i mean ive done it (but i orphaned those... lol) and im doing it now for the tsumiki wip so its fine i guess. but id only do it for languages that i know and if not, after profuse grammar checking. also ofc it has to make sense within the context of the story

19. first fandom you wrote for?

septimus heap eiebdkwbdkebd it was so bad

20. favorite fic you've written?

ill do you one better and say three... and these are the not-mid ones

light of a new morning (tsumiki and itadori)

after hours (mob and reigen)

before-the-storm bloom (uroyuki)

my writing style changed a lot and i think these ones emulate the way it is now the best

idk 20 writers but tagging @that-was-anticlimactic @zukkaoru @blackhallow and anyone else who wants !!

#between drawing and writing and like. my life. time gets a little stretched thin so i dont write as much as id like 😭 anyway #ty for tagging me!! and sorry again jjdjdfjdnfodnfod #tag game #hanancouldyounot

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adiabolikpastel · 11 months

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The question you were asked about what a hypothetical battle between Carnelian and the Makai kings would be like got me thinking.

I imagine it could go like this:

Karl and Burai would be in charge of attacking with magic, obviously they both have great knowledge in very, very ancient and dangerous black magic 💀. I like to imagine that the Wolf clan king and Ajax are much better at melee combat, (plus I have a headcanon about how the Wolf clan members are the strongest demons physically).

Carnelian (as far as I know), can use high level magic and is a vampire over five hundred years old, so he's pretty smart and strong, plus he has a cult at his disposal that do whatever he orders them to do, (for example, in the manga his cult members are in charge of kidnapping demons from other clans, so they must also be strong or be demons themselves as well). This battle of kings would also have to be joined by Carla, as everything seems to point to Carnelian being the creator of the endzeit, so Carla especially has every reason to kill Carnelian, even if that means he has to join his enemies Karlheinz and Burai in the battle...

Meanwhile, Alexander, Shuu, Eberto and Alrick would be facing Carnelian's sons, which are in fact chimeras, since Carnelian experimented on them. Based on my knowledge of the Carnelian Blood characters, here the fight would be close but I think the intellect of both Shuu and Alrick could give them a good edge in the battle. Even Lilly could be there as backup 🗡️.

The rest of the Sakamaki brothers, the Mukami brothers, Shin and Kino (along with the Ghouls), could be fighting Carnelian's elite soldiers - "The Crimson Guard" (which by the way, these characters are canon).

Meanwhile Callista and Yui/MC are in a hostage situation, Calli because she is the future wife of the next Vampire King, and Yui because she is "Eve" and that already makes her too special and important.

I hope this isn't too weird, I just wanted to add my thoughts!

Ah! Not weird at all~ I love it!

Honestly, the best ideas and story progressions on my blog come from others helping me along the way. Working out ideas and flushing them out. So, please, I love talking about these kind of things and building a bigger world.

You are 100% on how the kings operate. I think that Karl and Burai are more of the magical and tactical. While Gottfried and Ajax are the muscle tanks. I totally agree with your head cannon that the wolves would be the strongest physically - they, to me, are the more natural fighters - they give into their instincts more.

I do recall that Carnelian was the one who created the endzeit - that does give Carla cause to join in with the other Lords, as a Lord in his own right. Perhaps this would also be a turning point for him - to take up that mantle.

I did not know they were Chimeras!!! What! I just thought they were demon boys. See, I don't know anything. This keeps getting deeper and deeper. If that is the case, Shu, Reiji, Alexander and Alrick might have to put their minds together while the other siblings fight. @the-sloth-woman I can totally see Lilly joining the fight in Alrick's stead. Having to deal with a cult and an army - both of which I am just learning about - they are going to need all the smarties. The other boys and even Meteo and Evangeline would be leading the fights with those - no question.

Yui would for sure be a hostage, but I don't think Callista would. Callista isn't the type to go down easy, so if she was taken - it was because she was with Yui. If she was with Yui, and captured she would be plotting their escape. I can see her and Yui making it out and running into the boys like "We're here to save you" and Calli just being like "Well you took too long."

#ask mun #ask answered #excruciating duplicity #world building

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its-all-honey · 8 months

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The Umbrella Academy Season 3 ☂️

i last week finished watching the third season woo !! i used to be so obsessed with tua after watching season 1 that i even ended up getting all the volumes of the comics 😅 after watching season 3 i also reread all the comics back to back in like one sitting lol (spoilers for both the show and the comics coming up 🫣)

im gonna try my best to not make this sound super confusing when i talk about both season 3 of the show and volume 3 of the comics lol ------------------------------- the comic ---------------------------------so i went into season 3 having not previously read the 3rd volume of the comics meaning i had no idea what would happen, though i did know that the idea of hotel obsidian/oblivion was based off the comics BUT!! i found that the 3rd season of the show practically had nothing to do with the comics other than the title 😭 the plots of the show and comics across all seasons and volumes are both very different and season 3 was the most unlike its corresponding comic. one of the main differences being that the sparrow academy are only introduced at the end of volume 3 of the comics so i honestly dont know where the whole storyline for the 3rd season of the show came from i personally found the plot of the 3rd volume of the comic quite confusing and hard to follow as the perspectives and locations kept changing a lot so im actually rather glad that they chose not to portray the events of this comic in the show. that being said, i did like how each of umbrella siblings had their own storylines/adventures that they were on. probably my favourite storyline in the comics is vanya's ongoing recovery from volume one of the comics and also the pairing of five and allison which happens throughout the comics. i also like that luther and diego's rivalry is present across the comics. ------------------------------- the show --------------------------------- in the show, i find the characters to be much more likeable and more full of personality compared to the comics so season 3 did not disappoint in that respect. it was cool to see aspects of the comics continue to be translated into the show for example allison's reluctance to use her powers is a big thing in both medias AND IM SO GLAD THAT KLAUS FINALLY GOT TO USE THE FULL POTENTIAL OF HIS POWERS IN THE SHOW 😭😭😭 all the other character progression among the umbrella siblings is great as well!!! (we love senior citizen five) i liked the sparrows though some of them did not get much screen time and a few of their powers were a bit lame in my opinion 💀 (marcus and alphonso i am looking at you, sorry not sorry) i love love LOVE fei tho she is sooooo coool and christopher being just a random floating cube is so silly to me plus if you think about it, um some woman gave birth to that?!?!?!?! seeing sparrow ben just get subtly accepted by the umbrella siblings was so sweet like they were lowkey all just so happy to see ben again even if he's different. OH AND SPEAKING OF ACCEPTING!!!!! VIKTOR HARGREEVES 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭 madddd props to the producers/writers of the show for giving elliot page a trans character and doing it in such a good way ❤️❤️❤️❤️ im so obsessed with all the different sibling reactions to viktor (also vanya in the comics has short hair sooooooo) ok so a few things i didnt like so much was first of all, luther and sloane romance felt really forced to me and a bittttt weird but ive seen people say that luther was in his himbo era during season 3 so honestly i'll let it slide. secondly there's lila who i disliked in season 2 but then she shows up with stan and i loved stan he was so silly!!!! BUT THEN lila is suddenly actually pregnant😭???? idk man, it gotta hella crazy. um thirdly (this is gonna be a really hot take but hear me out), i know its the whole point of the show and its a reoccurring thing that happens but all this end of the world/apocalypse business is kindaaa boring now 🧍 i guess it does happen differently in each season so its not completely repetitive everytime and i must say that this time was actually my favourite end of the world lol hopefully, the finally season will resolve everything nicely but only time will tell i suppose 👁️👁️. im actually gonna shut up now though because this is getting so long and while i could go on and on about tua im gonna have to stop 😭

#the umbrella academy #netflix #netflix series #the sparrow academy #comics #comic adaptation

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giveshope · 1 year

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i just rewatched the crossover episode between the thundermans and henry danger "danger & thunder" and there are so many reasons why that crossover is a failure and just utterly wrong, i don't even know where to begin lol

first of all, captain man should not be able to move, let alone use his superstrength once frozen. you are literal solid ice. physically and mentally you have been turned to stone. you cannot break out of it because your powers are frozen WITH you lmao i would cut them some slack on this issue in particular because it's a mistake the thunderman writers have made before too when they had nora use her heat vision to unfreeze herself even though it wouldn't have worked since her eyes were frozen, but it's a recurrent problem throughout the episode to the point it becomes impossible to ignore that the writers of henry danger not only toned down but practically ERASED the twins' superpowers and abilities in order not to make captain man and kid danger look absolutely useless in their own tv show next to thundergirl and max.

you can tell max's plot wasn't really thought of at all because telekinesis already contains the ability to do what the weapon he wanted was meant to do in the first place lmfao and again, he could have easily stolen said weapon with telekinesis without having to lift a single finger and waltzed out of the villains meeting?? even if the baby villain tried something, max could have just frozen him and bounced 💀 the scene on the train when he struggled so hard not only to get the weapon but also to free his foot when it got stuck was absolutely pathetic because, again, HIS TELEKINESIS WOULD HAVE SOLVED EVERYTHING IN A MATTER OF SECONDS.

now onto phoebe; i actually like that she keeps tabs on neighboring towns through the news to see if any other heroes/places in general are in need of her assistance, but she wouldn't have needed captain man's permission to attend the villains meeting lol and it was very dumb of him to even try to refuse her offer in the first place. she's thunderman's daughter, not a mundane kid like henry, so she knows exactly what she's getting herself into, and she has a variety of superpowers, one of which is a literal umbrella to several other superpowers ? ? she's extraordinarily valuable to them ! ! !

there's a handful of different ways phoebe as thundergirl could have SINGLEHANDEDLY shutdown the secret supervillains meeting. it wouldn't have taken her more than five seconds to freeze the whole place and everybody in it besides her, captain man and kid danger. there, saved the day. she could have used telekinesis to manipulate all of their bodies at once or to hold them in place or to make them get on the ground, not to mention maiming, if we're getting real ( which we aren't, since this is a kids show ). but again, saved the day. she could have used her heat breath to scare and fight them off, and i'm being really humble about the capacities of her superpowers right now lol. . . THE DAY WAS SAVED! but what did captain man do instead? sent thundergirl away so he could deal with everyone himself and then got captured in the process,,, i'm not even a hater, but that's just dumbass energy lmao and again, kid danger left because he was given an order, but thundergirl doesn't take orders from captain man because she doesn't work for him. she wouldn't have left. it's canon that phoebe is way too competitive and stubborn for that lol she would have stayed, fought and won. i cannot stress this enough.

and the whole scene on the train. . . the issue of her freeze breath not working because of the wind ( i'm not even sure that's an actual thing because it never happened on her show before, and i don't remember reading anything about it on the page about freeze breath, but let's work with it for the sake of the scene ) could have been easily solved if she just changed her position, then the wind would have worked in her favor. it wasn't an ACTUAL problem lmao if they didn't want thundergirl to easily handle the situations at hand, then they should have just said that SJSHSJDSKSJ and her struggling during the physical fight literally goes against the canon of the thundermans where she has been showed to be able to easily fight off MULTIPLE people at once. WITHOUT USING HER SUPERPOWERS. which wasn't the case on the train, she was using them. which means she wouldn't have struggled. at all. AT ALL. they literally showed her throwing a guy off the train with telekinesis, what was stopping her from doing that before ? ? she legit could have handled everything with telekinesis alone, she wouldn't have even needed her other superpowers which were still AT HER DISPOSAL, i'm sorry she is simply overpowered, we must accept 😔

anyway, this episode was a disservice to both phoebe and max, their superpowers, abilities and even personalities, and i can't comprehend such a huge failure on a crossover between superhero shows when the crossover with the haunted hathaways was so good and managed to do both tv shows justice with a lot more characters to deal with and a whole different dynamic to introduce, without erasing the powers and dynamics of either tv shows and characters ! "the haunted thundermans" remains superior in every way, even plotwise, and i love that for them ♡

#╰ ˚.*ೃ࿐┊ 🗲 ❛ this message is going to self destruct .ᐟ ❪ out of character ❫#the thundermans #henry danger #danger & thunder #phoebe thunderman #max thunderman #i had to take this off my chest lol #like am i reaching for the stars here??#i dont think so #haunted hathaways did it so henry danger could do it too #also haunted hathaways had ALL mains from both shows while henry danger only had the twins and still managed to fail #i dont get it

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ama-dillo · 10 months

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So I was talking to my brother and we were cackling about the deaths in supernatural. Like this isn't how you end a show. Who tf did Sam marry? Where is Cas? How the fuck did he "help" with heaven if he's DEAD!?! Dean never got his tetanus shot and dies and Sam agrees to not bring him back. Who on spn's writing and producing staff was like " I know! We retcon the already flawed ending we had and kill them off!" And everyone clapped I presume. Like what? Sam's son! Does he hunt? No? Then what? Sam looks so old and his son looks like 16 and his son doesn't even cry he's just like "you can die now" DIRECT QUOTE. What fan is clapping at the end of this.

Me personally watching it again I was singing and dancing and making paroidies of songs about how everyone is dead. I was ngl actually insane. I have never been so mad everrr. EVERRRR. Idk I just feel betrayed by this season. Besides the episode about Lady Luck. Everything else made me pissed.

This isn't a win. I have been explaining the plot to my brother and he said " Why wouldn't they just except gods deal, if everyone dies" and that's true! And some redditor reminded me. Wtf happened to the other worlds are they just dead forever. Sam and Dean were okay with every other world dying except Thiers. They only surrender when there is nothing left. No matter the good they have done BILLIONS UPON BILLONS OF LIVES ARE GONE BECAUSE THEY WANTED TO NOT KILL EACH OTHER. That is in direct conflict with EVERYTHING THIS SHOW HAS BEEN ABOUT!!!

That's not the boys I've been following for 14 seasons. Is that the ones you have? And also I realize Supernatural isn't as popular as I once thought. Most people haven't even binged the whole thing. They think it should have ended after season five. Or their favorite character is someone who briefly shows up and then never comes back again. What I have to say about those people is do you care about these characters? Do you like this show? Because in season five Sam gets sent to be tortured in hell forever. Clearly you didn't like him.

One of my favorite episodes EVER "Lebanon" is in the later seasons. And dismissing seasons you haven't even SEEN is ridiculous. How can you call yourself a fan if in all those years of fandom you could watch four more seasons. Or whatever. It makes me kinda mad. I know that's not the case for everyone but I seeing a shit load of it on mother's Hellsite ( aka Here, duh).

I have changed and grow throughout this binge and learned to like Supernatural on a deeper level and those who reduce it to " It's SUPPOSED TO BE BAD" Make me want to pull a Crowley and 😁🗡️ 💀⚰️

But those are my feelings. If yours differ that's valid. You are valid.

I just wish this whole season didn't feel like a dark fever dream. Every scene was like some weird song and dance sequence. Or a bizaro reality played out for way too long. At every death or absence someone at some point said that they wouldn't be gone " tHeY wOuLd Be iN tHiEr HeArT" ☹️😭🤢🤮

Criminal.

Everything seemed weak like at the end they were gonna pull some "it was all a dream" crap on us. Season 15 didn't feel like an ending. Not even close.

I can't express how I felt at the end of this. Hollowed out, would be the closest. I thought I would cry or something but it felt so cheap.

Don't get me started on the reconning of the lore. I haven't seen the prequel yet but I'm guessing it's more of the same. People told me it was a flop so I'm guessing keeper of spn or whatever revival reunion spin-off isn't happening.

Disappointed. But also I felt freedom. Like supernatural was holding me to something and finishing it let me go.

#rant post #supernatural #spn

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