#i made the first two posts then this image was beamed into my head

[spottedgardeneelstan]

formal apology to the yue qingyuan stans

#hes just so easy to bully #hes like a towel that you forgot about in the washer and now he smells like mildew #he probably doesnt smell like that #yqy #yue qingyuan #svsss #scum villain #scumbag villain #scum villian self saving system #im sorry women #i made the first two posts then this image was beamed into my head #sorry you’re bald yqy stans #i didn’t know what else to do

[manicrouge]

Inundate

[𝙰𝚄: 𝙶𝚞𝚊𝚛𝚍!𝚂𝚒𝚖𝚘𝚗 𝚁𝚒𝚕𝚎𝚢 𝚡 𝚂𝚒𝚛𝚎𝚗!𝚁𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛] || 𝙿𝚕𝚊𝚢𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚝

[𝙳𝚊𝚝𝚎 𝙿𝚘𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚍]: 05/01/24

[𝙰𝚋𝚘𝚞𝚝]: Sorry is the siren whose selfishness results in carnage.

[𝙲𝚠]: gore, murder, blood, body horror, angst, character deaths (both major and minor), hurt/comfort, smut, possessive!simon, inexperienced!reader, creampie, hurt and NO COMFORT, mention of the loss of a parent.

[𝚆𝚘𝚛𝚍 𝙲𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚝]: 18,536

[𝙰/𝙽]: Since so many people liked the first part (ty for ur support btw i am blown away by all the love ive been getting... it's enough to make a grown woman cry) HERE'S PART TWO!!! I hope it's just as entertaining as the first part and a good continuation to the story, although if you dislike it, just pretend this part never happened. Also this took so long because between writing this I have been watching the cat in the hat (best movie of all time btw).

I had a lot of fun writing this and can't wait for more alt aus !! I think the next think i have planned has something to do with everyones favourite ghost so... keep an eye out for that :3

(Pls ignore any typos I am very tired and really wanted to get this done so if I have made any I do apologise)

Comments are always appreciated !!

If you haven't already read it, I advise you read 𝙿𝚊𝚛𝚝 𝙾𝚗𝚎 !!

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

There is something in the water.

There's something looking at him. He can sense it, he can feel it, and the feeling of whatever it is makes his blood run cold. Words have been leaving his mouth as he stands upon the ship, his eyes blood red at the very belief that something is there.

Leaning over, he watches as the ship caves into the waves, the village in the distance growing further and further away, the sound of songs and cheers emitting from the belly of the vessel.

Perhaps he's just a little sea sick, that's his excuse for the creeping sense of dread which is climbing up his spine the further he looks into the water, searching for the same set of black eyes that had stared at him that night while he obeyed the Captains orders.

Nausea rumbles his stomach, he feels the urge to grip the side of the ship and expel his guts for he cannot escape the image of that siren. It's as though, even though she is dead and gone (somewhere no one knows), she is still there with him, under his nails, infecting him with a sickly guilt that has caused his pores to ooze, the skin on his lips to crack, and his sleepless eyes to remain bloodshot.

He is rotting from the inside out.

Despite months having gone by, his hands are still slicked with the blood of the bleeding siren. He's scrubbed and scrubbed, and still, the dark red tinge under his nails persists. His hair is wild, flecks of grey sparkling in the daylight as he brings his hands together in an attempt to quell them as they continue to shake.

They're not alone anymore.

They haven't been for a while, yet, they have been none the wiser to it until the discovery of that... thing.

Granted, he's unsure as to whether or not he is grateful for knowing what is in the depths of the sea, or if he would have preferred it to stay a secret.

There is something following the ship, he knows there is something following the ship, whether beside it or under it- it doesn't matter.

He's heard the stories, read too many books in the library to count, and even since the murder of the siren, there has been a different air in the village just as there is at sea. Something is displeased, they are displeased, he knows they are.

'Roland, are you seriously looking for one of those things again?'

A hand is placed in his movement and he jolts, yelping at the sudden contact, his hands wrapping around the beam he has been using to look over the ship. There's a scoff from the man standing behind him as he scratches his beard, looking him up and down before his hands settle on hips hip.

'For fucks sake kid,' he exclaims, shaking his head, 'you're making yourself with the thought of the fuckin' things- have you looked in the mirror recently?'

He’s choking on his words, his tongue seemingly too big for his mouth as he gargles out an incoherent mess. Quite frankly, he would have been better throwing up overboard; at least then man would get a proper response from him. His cheeks are red as he concludes he should keep his mouth shut.

'You should have stayed on land,' he sharply states, 'this is our land, they don't have a fucking leg to stand on out here, right?' asks the man, wrapping his arm around his shoulder, holding his hand out as he points towards the sea with a bright smile on his face. 'One of theirs washed up on our shore, and they didn't stand a fuckin' chance against us.'

Observing the land, he swallows hard at the sight of a small mound of rocks sitting in the distance, tensing in the grip of the man standing beside him.

'She was on land,' he chokes out, resting his forearm against the edge of the ship, resting his head against his arms. The fluid motion of the water slightly rocking the boat side to side worsens his sickness as he sits and attempts to focus on his breathing. 'And she only died 'cause Price fucked up.'

'She only lived for as long as she did because that fuckwit was acting on the orders of the Lord,' says the man beside him, smacking his hand against his back, rendering the other breathless as he heaves for a gasp of air. 'Do I need to go to the Captain and get this boat turned around,' he lowly asks, 'because you're lookin' to be more of a fuckin' burden than anything else.'

Straightening his posture, he lets go of the edge of the shift, rubbing his face with his hands, shaking his head.

Rubbing his eyes, he winces at the dull pain as he does so, 'no, no, you don't... jus' haven't been sleeping recently, that's all,' he explains, 'been worrying about this trip but... I need the money; it's been rough recently.'

'Then get your fucking act together,' snaps the man, 'can't have some stupid mer-freaks scaring you, hey? They've probably left these waters, anyway,' he shrugs, 'they're like spiders; they fear us more than we fear them, and the only thing you've got to be fearful is Donny seeing you in this state, yeah?'

'Yeah,' he nods, noting that they're growing closer and closer to the mound of rocks. 'Need the money for this job.'

'Don't we all,' laughs the man, 'I'm gonna go get a drink, you gonna join me?'

As he looks at the an, he pictures the hot room beneath the deck with one too many bodies crammed into there, all for the sake of getting their hands on some rum. His stomach is burning as bile bubbles. There is nothing worse his mind can conceive at this moment, it's simply a death wish to accept his generous offer.

'No, I'm gonna stay up here; feel a bit sick,' he confesses, 'cause of the long break of voyages.'

Placing both of his hands on his bloated belly, Mike rolls his eyes, letting out a chuckle, 'I will say, strange how trade has been quiet for the past few months, isn't it? Got a village full of hungry people here and they're expecting us to sustain ourselves? That hardly seems culpable.’

'Somethin' to do with the Lords guards. They have more power than good, they do,' snarls Roland, 'think it's okay to demand for cuts of the ships in the water, and for what?'

'To keep you safe it seems,' laughs the man, 'can't have you vomiting into the ocean and angering the big fish, right? Have the village under water in the matter of seconds if you spilled your guts overboard.'

His laughter continues while he keeps his eyes glued on the small island of rocks. Holding his breath, he narrows them as the sun glares down at hm, burning his flesh. Sweat tricks from off of his forehead, chapped lips smacking together as he begins to smile.

'Bet it has something to do with the freak with the skull mask on.... Say, Mike, you ever seen his face before?' he asks with a furrowed brow.

Reflecting for a moment, he rests his hand against his hip, tapping his foot as he looks past Roland, staring into the sea as he contemplates. Resting either elbow on the edge of the ship, he lazily slouches awaiting the answer.

'No, can't say I have, hasn't left the house with that stupid fuckin' thing since he became one of the guards... you reckon it's real?' he asks with a laugh.

'Yeah fuckin' right,' Roland laughs, 'tied to the back of his head with pieces of silk, you really think someone like that has the fuckin' balls t’ kill someone and wear their skull as a souvenir?'

Both of them pause, sharing a look with one another.

Then Mike begins to laugh, Roland not too far behind as the pair of them howl.

His sickness abandons him as the pair of them laugh together. Tilting his back, he keeps his eyes screwed shut as he lifts a leg up, unable soothe the joyous ache in his gut.

'Yeah fuckin' right,' Mike says, wiping his eyes with his chubby fingers, 'he's doin' arts and crafts at...'

His laughter quells.

Even his sharp gasps for air dissipate.

Roland continues to laugh, only, after a few moments of silence, he clears his throat, his breath clawing at the inside of his throat.

He finds the hairs on his arms stand up, the wrinkles on his sickly face appearing as his peeling lips come together while lifting his head to look at Mike.

The elder man is pale, staring blankly past him into the sea.

'What?' Roland slowly asks, staring at the man, a smile tugging at his lips.

Unmoved by his comment, he turns his head to look in the direction where the man is looking.

Sinking his teeth into his bottom lip, he holds his breath as his eyes scan over the area.

There's the depth of the sea, they have passed the rocks he's heard in many account from those who have survived the sirens.

There is nothing there but the sea and the sky.

'Got ya',' chuckles the man behind him, continuing to laugh in the same manner he was laughing in before, 'you really thought I was gonna say that there's a siren there, didn't you? Gotta get them off of your mind, son.'

‘I know,' Roland retorts, 'the skull faced freak really helped... like medicine he is, strange fellow, yet so good for the soul, eh?'

'Good for the soul, but not the wallet,' snorts the latter. 'Wouldn't even say he's medicine, you're givin' him too much credit by sayin' that.'

'Oh?' Roland says, 'then what do you suppose he is then?'

'A witches potion,' he answers.

'Even that seems too nice,' says the spotty man, 'a quacks remedy is more fitting I think.'

The pair of them begin to laugh again, the waves crashing either side of the boat, and with every second they grow further and further from the little pile of rocks, and he finds his aching muscles are soothed.

The bustling cheers of the sailor help to warm his heart and he begins to think that he can stomach some rum.

A drop wouldn't kill a man, that's for sure.

In fact, it'll probably work well to settle his stomach.

'I think I've had a change of heart on the invite,' he says with a smile, 'drop of rum never killed anyone, has it?' he continues on brightly as though he had not been moments away from emptying his guts all of the deck. 'Well, it hasn't yet, at least.'

'That's the spirit,' Mike grins, 'probably help you with that uneasy stomach of yours, know it helps with mine, at least,' he says so while patting his stomach, looking over his shoulder to towards the door beneath the top of the ship where the Captain stands.

The man doesn't even move to address Mike, keeping his eyes set right in front of him, his hat tilted slightly downwards to keep the sun out of his eyes.

Opening his mouth to respond, all air exudes from his lung as he feels an ice cold touch on his shoulder.

Slowly, he turns his head, looking down to the wet patch on his shirt. A short breath escapes him as he notes the webbed hand, nails as sharp as daggers digging through the fabric of his shirt.

'Gonna take more than a quacks remedy to fix your issues,' a soft voice whispers as the hand on his shoulder shifts, and with one fair slash, the skin on his throat is shred as he is pulled overboard.

A gargled scream escapes him.

Writhing against the strong hold, his eyes water as he gasps for air as his body is dragged under the current. Swallowing mouthfuls of blood and water, he chokes out babbled for them to come back, for them to stop as the ship charged through the seas.

Cruelly, the siren holding him keeps him above water as he chokes.

'Don't worry about them,' says the voice behind him, 'water's waitin' for them, a pretty song is too.'

With that, he cries out in agony as your nails are drove into his stomach, the flesh snapping as you drag your fingers through his stomach.

'You helped in her capture,' you seethe, 'you're lucky I haven't flooded the entire fucking town, but if I don't find the man who murdered her, you best believe that entire town is going to drown in the same water as you.'

'T- They'll...' he wretches out, the strength in his kicks calming as his eyes grow heavy, '...kill you,' he firmly states, gritting his teeth.

A loud laugh graces his ears as your grip on him loosens.

'Only if they can swim with a slit throat.'

＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚ ☾ ˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

Blood washes off easily with water.

It's the nails it's difficult to remove it from, and he struggles with all his might as he stands at the edge of the shore, scraping his nails into the sand. It doesn't help at all, though, he still insists on doing so; it's the only time the stain of red is obscured.

The beach is bitter to him these days, and even though his mouth is protected from the elements as he keeps his balaclava over his mouth, he still feels a faint tingle on his mouth as he recalls the moment he spent here with you.

You're difficult to avoid, especially whenever he's passing the beach on patrol. Price has made a point to keep him away from it, placing him next to the Lords house during his patrols. He says it's to make it easier on him, so he's not as distracted while doing an important job.

When he's near the Lords house, his ears ring with the sound of your screaming and crying, and the blood under his nails grows darker.

There's a temptation whenever he's nearing the house; one cut to the throat and he would be dealt with.

As easy as that.

Truthfully, the old man has nothing to do with the issues going on within, but he's clamouring for someone to hate, for someone to blame. The old man made the orders, they could have just let her go, but they didn't.

And then you left with her.

In the morning after Serelia's burial, when he woke to an empty bed, his lungs turned to ice. It was unlike anything he had ever experienced, the feeling of utter despair as he found the pink dress he had bought for you gone along with yourself.

There was no residue of body heat on your side of the bed, he struggled to find anything to even prove you existed as he rushed around the house with wild eyes.

'Sweetheart?' he called, forcing the door to the bathroom open.

The light shined in from the window, though, there was nothing in there aside from the bloody frock he'd helped you remove the night before.

Picking it up off of the ground, he held it out in front of him looking at the drying blood in the fabric. He didn't know why he did it if anything, it only works to worsen his panic.

In the midst of public, eyes are everywhere... what if someone heard your confession to him? What if it was the same someone who hurt Serelia?

He dropped the dress promptly, his hand over his mouth as his face paled at the very thought of you being taken- of you meeting the same fate as the poor siren he'd buried. Only, in the memory, it was your face he was covering with the shabby old white sheet he found in the cabin, and it was your blood on that dress and not hers.

For the next few minutes, he spent them on his knees, gripping the edge of the toilet as he threw up what little he had in his stomach, ridding his body of the last moments he had spent with you.

After the remnants of the pastry he'd eaten before were in the toilet bowl, he suffered through a terrible burning in his throat as his face grew hot as he thought against all urges to throw up anymore. Yet, he failed, a mixture of stomach acid and spit landing in the bowl.

The smell was grotesque, yet, the taste of it was even worse.

His eyes were teary when he eventually forced himself off of the ground, rushing out of the room, quickly changing into his uniform, leaving the skull of his mask in his bedroom, tying the balaclava around his face before rushing out of the door.

People look at him with raised brows, finally able to see the top part of his face, yet, he doesn't care as he sprints through the village, his heart pounding against his chest, hoping that one of the women passing him is you.

The library is closed, you can't be there and he wants to scream as he holds the side of his head, his throat tightening up. How he longed to have the simple luxury of seeing you sat in the library again with a book on your lap. Though, as he peered through the glass of the small building, the space was simply a husk.

Heat climbed up his neck as he heaves out desperate breaths. His skin grew itchy and his blunt nails clawed at the flesh on his neck as he gulped hard attempting to chase after air, to find some form of peace to calm himself.

You left in silence, you left without a goodbye- surely you wouldn't have been so cruel to do so. You would have said something to him, left something for him to let you know that you were okay.

The missing dress is the only form of hope he had, though, the missing dress means nothing; someone could have taken that with you to make it look as though you left on your own accord and not someone else's.

The world is spinning as his breathing quickens, he can hardly make sense of anything around him and he finds himself growing more frustrated by the second. You could be anywhere, he hadn't let you out of his sight for more than a month, and the moment he sleeps with you beside him is the moment you disappear.

After the library, he checked the beach, yet it was clear, not a being in sight, nor a siren.

You were nowhere to be found.

The crashing waves and the grey sky swelled in his head rendering him speechless as he blinks back the tears, clenching his fists as he turned away from ocean, returning back to the village.

When he opened the door to the station, the first face he was greeted with was the both who Price had tasked with the mission of looking after Serelia.

The fool who was sloppy enough to leave her by herself.

'Mornin' Si', you want a tea?' Johnny asked, turning his attention away from Rhys standing beside him.

He doesn't care to respond to the man, instead, he grabbed the throat of the man beside him, slamming him against the wall with gritted teeth.

The man startled in his hold, letting out a loud gasp as Simon's fist around his neck tightens with the intent of only loosening when he felt the bone crunch in his fist.

'You fucking bastard!' he screamed.

Rhys doesn't dare move, weak wretches escaping him as he squirmed in his hold.

A hand grabs his shoulder, 'woah, woah, hey, Simon calm down!' Johnny exclaimed, 'you're gonna kill the fuckin' kid.'

'That' the whole point,' he snapped, 'you let that fuckin' siren die.'

'I- I didn't,' the man managed out.

'You left her alone and she was fucking murdered- this is your fault, Price put you up to it and you left her with no one there to protect her and she died.'

At that point, he could hear the blood in his veins, and had he not been forced off of him by Johnny and Price, he very well would have snapped the kids neck.

Rhys fell to the ground with a harsh gasp while Price stepped in front of him and Johnny kept hold his arms. When Simon stepped forward, Price placed his hand against his chest, shoving him backwards.

'Simon,' warned the man, 'bring it in, I've already got the death of that fucking siren on my case, I don't need another one to account for too.'

His eyes grew blurry as he looked at the man.

'What's wrong?' Johnny asked from behind him, 'whats happened?'

Everything folded in on itself, the cold morning, the absence of you and your dress, the bloody dress on the floor. Everything, every single thing he built with you collapsed, and he was unable to keep it all together as he ripped his arms from out of Johnny's hold.

Looking past Price, he pointed his finger in the direction of the brown-haired man on the floor, clenching his teeth, 'it's your fault she's fuckin' gone,' he seethes, 'all your fucking fault,' he mustered up before storming out the Station, blinking back tears as he returned home, knowing you weren't going to be there.

The beach is bitter now, but the memory is worse.

He doesn't know why he bothers to sit at the beach during the nighttime, perhaps it's in the hope that you'll reappear, or maybe the moon will send him a sign that you're safe somewhere her, and that the only part of you with Serelia is the skirt from the bloody frock he still has in his house.

It's peaceful at night, especially with the waves rolling in gently, and he imagines you're sitting on a rock somewhere, humming a sweet tune, causing trouble as you did so.

Anyone else would have been horrified with the confession, though, as he thinks about the damage that the people in the village have done to you, he wishes you'd flood the entire village and wipe it clean of all the scum in it.

At least then, even if he were to die in the flood, he'd die knowing that it was by your hand and no one else's.

And in his death, the man who he was held back from would also meet the same fate. That's all he's asking for.

Unsheathing the dagger in his belt, he drives it into the ground, dragging it through the grains of sand, taking his eyes from the sea to the deep line he's carved into the sand.

The throat of the Lord or Rhys would be better suited, though, he knows the fate awaiting him if he does something like that.

As he stares at the sand, the crunch of boots against the sand or the creak of a lantern behind him catching his attention though he doesn't turn his head; he knows the walking pattern well... he needs to get lighter on his feet if he's going to attempt to scare him.

'Thought I'd find ya 'ere, Lt,' says the man, walking beside him, not bothering to ask him if he can take a seat beside him. With a grunt, he lands on the ground, exhaling as he looks to the man sitting beside him. 'You've been comin' here since she left.'

'You spying on me?' Simon retorts.

'Seen you while on patrol, actually,' Johnny answers, 'difficult to miss, a big lump of coal you are,' he says with a chuckle, 'ya looked like you needed the company 'cause you've been keeping to yourself for months, and I know ye not typically a man of many words, but you've become a Ghost.'

He doesn't answer him, instead, he drivers his knife further into the sand.

'You gonna tell me what's actually going on, or are you gonna keep it a secret so no one can help you?' he asks, 'I've been thinking about the state of you the morning you nearly broke that kids neck, I've never seen you like that before.'

'You'll never see me like that again.'

'What did the death of that siren have to do with her leaving?'

His knuckles whiten around the knife.

'Kyle told us she was in a right state when Rhys got to the Station that morning. You forced him to keep everyone away from the cabin but the entire village heard her crying,' he explained, 'it was the talk of the town for days after.'

Looking at the man sitting beside him, he fights against the truth.

'The siren was what she was here for, wasn't she?' he asked.

Simon's breath gets caught in his throat.

'I've been goin' over it for weeks whenever I get a spare minute, the carry on out of her, her washing up on the shore out of the blue- not being able to remember the name of where her and her sister were goin' on that ship... none of that was true, was it?'

'No,' Simon answered, 'she told me when we found Serelia, we buried her and in the night she left... or someone took her,' he said.

'You think someone took her?'

'She was screamin' for the entire fuckin' village to hear, Johnny,' he snaps, letting go of the knife as he turns his attention back towards the ocean, 'anyone coulda heard her, including whoever killed Serelia. And I just keep goin' over it.'

He knows he'd never be able to forgive himself if such was confirmed, for what kind of protector would he be if he couldn't have stopped that monster from getting to you?

'What if she just... went back to the water?' he asks, 'that's where she belongs anyway, right? If she got a hold of the girl, she would have went back with her anyway.'

'She didn't say goodbye,' Simon utters.

'Maybe she didn't say goodbye because she knew you wouldn't be able to go,' he shrugs, 'if she woke you in the middle of the night and told you she had to go back home, would you have let her go?'

As he looks out onto the water, he contemplates his question, thinking back to the very night he lost you. He recalls the pair of you lying his bed, how you mumbled one last 'I love you' to him before leaving. Only, this time, you didn't leave without telling him. Instead, you look him dead in the eyes and tell him that you have to go.

Even debating the scenario in his head causes his heart to hurt.

'No...' he begins, his eyes narrowing as he keeps his eyes trained on the water.

It's difficult to see in the darkness, though, the light from the moon against the water highlights something bobbing closer and closer to the shore. Raising to his feet, Johnny looks up at him.

'You see that?' he asks, motioning over to the water.

The blob in the sea dips and raises with each wave rolling in, though with his mask and tired eyes, he's unsure if he's seeing something because it's there, or if his imagination is simply willing it to be sign he has been craving for the past couple of months.

'Aye,' he says, raising to his feet.

The pair stand idly staring at the bobbing blob.

'Whatever it is, it isn't alive,' says Johnny, watching as the man beside him shrugs off his cloak, untying the ribbon of his mask and pulling the balaclava off of his face, allowing it all to fall to the floor.

'Keep an eye on it for me, won't you?' Simon asks, looking over his shoulder, not bothering to wait for a response as he rushes into the water, heading directly towards the mysterious mass in the water.

Wading through the water, his pants grow heavier as his boots fill with water, though, he's uncaring as the water reaches his waist. The closer her gets to the body, the darker he finds the water grows.

'You know what it is yet?' calls the man on the shore.

Squinting, he reaches his hand out, placing his hand against the strange mass, pulling it over so he can see what it is.

Hollowed out eyes stare back at him, the sockets devoid of eye balls as he stares at the corpse a float in the water. It's intestines brush against his knee as though they have a life of their own.

The sight is brutal and in the darkness, he can't quite make out the feature of who the body is.

Grabbing the corpse under its armpits, he turns his head back to shore to see Johnny waiting with eager eyes to see what has been uncovered.

'It's a dead body!' Simon says with a grunt as he pulls the body through the water, leaving a trail of blood behind him as he drags it with him.

From behind him there's a slosh of water, the stammering breaths of the man appearing right beside him as he gawks at the corpse. He doesn't say anything, quite reserved for a man who is looking death in the eyes. Instead, he grabs its arm, helping Simon pull it to shore.

The heels of the corpse dig into the sand as he's pulled back to shore, the pair of them dropping him with a huff. Their clothes drip against the land as Johnny grabs the lantern he left beside Simon's masks and cloak, holding it over the body so the pair of them can grasp what it is they're dealing with.

The torso of the corpse is naked, the flesh of its stomach looking as though some sort of wild animal had gotten its hands on him. Only, its the intent of the cuts that tells him otherwise, his throat hangs open, exposing the top of his spine and vocal cords, loose flaps of skin blowing in the wind as the corpse leaks sea water and blood onto the sand.

As Simon moves his eyes up, he lets out a brittle exhale.

'This is one of the fellas who left on the ship today,' Johnny comments, looking to Simon who simply keeps his eyes glued to the chest of the man. 'Roland...' his words trail as he rips his eyes from off of the corpses face, all to see the very thing that Simon is staring at.

Johnny gulps.

'Your girl capable of doing that?' he says with a raised eyebrow.

In the bloody mess of the man, he finds exactly what he has been hoping to fine since he woke up that morning to find you were gone.

Of course, it could have been a shark attack- something other than the work of your hand, only, the confirmation of life is etched into the body as though it's a stone tablet or a tombstone.

Carved into the chest of the dead man is the word 'murderer'.

Simon smiles at the sight of the corpse, looking out onto the water.

'That's her,' he breathes, looking towards the moon, 'she's alive.'

＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚ ☾ ˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

The thing is, with humans at least, they're fragile when it comes to pain.

When something seems out of the ordinary, they're inclined to shit themselves and become a crying blubbering mess, begging for mercy as though it is them who are innocent when they acted with the intent of taking another's life.

Even the strongest man cowers when they're forced to encounter something unknown, and you rejoice as you blood at the bloody man on his knees before you.

The curse of the moon never truly left you, still tied to the humans upon leaving the water, and while you have a prolific distaste for you can no longer join the sirens upon the rocks, it works well when the ship is driven into rocks and one of the men manage to scramble to the shore.

He thinks he's safe until you walk from out of the water.

The tides turn and the small smirk on his face disappears as he realises you do indeed have legs and can walk right up to him. Either way, he's a fool to possess such smugness, a song from the water would have drove him right back to you anyway.

'P- Please, please, please, I- I'm sorry, what do you want? I'll give you whatever you want, you want money?' he chokes out, holding his hands out in front of him.

The blood of his friend you plucked from off of the ship mingles with the sea water as he trembles in the cool breeze.

Some dry patches even stick to him, a clump of congealed blood sticking to one of his eyebrows. Trebling hands dig into his pockets as he holds out a handful of golden coins.

You think of Simon briefly, smiling to yourself as you recall the soup you attempted to made with the golden coins he had given you. How you basked in the light of his home eating the slop in the bowl, but none of that mattered because the pair of you had each other.

And then your mind falls to the dress he gifted you.

The dress you left on the bathroom floor, the dress you ripped to leave a piece of yourself with Serelia, the dress stained with her blood.

Raising your hand, you slap the money out of his hands, the coins landing with a hollow thud onto the sand of the a small cove. 'I don't want your money,' you snap, grabbing his shirt, pulling him to you with gritted teeth. 'I want you to answer my question, and if you dance around it, I'll cut you from gut to gullet and let the sharks eat the rest of you body.'

'Of course, o- of course, anything, I'll tell you anything you want to know,' shudders the man, tears flowing freely down his wrinkled face.

Edging closer to him, your face is right in front of his, you can smell the booze on his breath as he sniffles, looking at you doe eyes.

'Who killed the siren you captured?'

He looks at you, opening his mouth as he stumbles and trips over the words leaving his mouth. All attempts to form words are lost to the panic he works himself into as he attempts to think of an answer which will satisfy you, yet keep whoever is guilty safe.

Your grip grows tighter on his hair.

'I- I don't know, I don't know, I'm sorry,' he sobs, 'please- please—'

Shoving him back onto the ground, you turn away from him, clenching your fists.

'Bull-fucking-shit.'

His sobs simmer as you look back to the water, taking a moment to contemplate his response. And, you find that you don't like what he has to say, in fact, you fucking despise it because you know for a fact he is full of shit.

Turning sharply on your heel, you look at the man, taking a breath before bringing your hand across his face. He falls with a huff, his face pressing against the sand as he lets out another pitiful cry.

'Wrong answer, try again,' you demand, leaning over, grabbing a fistful of his greasy hair, pulling his head up. Your breath ghosts his ear as you speak through clenched teeth, 'who killed the siren?'

'I- I heard whispers around the village!' he blurts, 'they said that whoever it was was smart and no one suspects them of it... b- but I know it wasn't the man you murdered.'

You let go of his hair.

The only people who knew where Serelia was were the Guards of the village and you know Simon would never have done something so brutal. Price cares too much about his duty to do something so horrible, even though to him, you're sure her death was much more of an inconvenience then it was a heartbreak.

Your mind aches as you go down to Johnny and Gaz. Why would they do something so cruel? As much as you despise their kind, you struggle to see why they would bring harm to her. It wouldn't make sense- even Gaz told you he would have freed her if their hands were

And then your heart stops.

Confirmation is the one thing you have longed for since returning to the sea, the one thing your sisters have wanted for the longest time. You looks at you with wide eyes, stammering out whispers as you release your hold on him.

The entire time you thought she was safe, she was in the hands of her murderer.

Your self indulgence and brief romance cost her her life.

Placing your hand against your forehead, you pace back and forwards in front of the man.

'The boy who Price hired to make sure she was safe,' you mumble to yourself, wiping your face with your hand. How could you have been so blind? Word never got out about her being anywhere, he never went home that night... he disappeared and Gaz couldn't find him that morning.

He was getting rid of the evidence of his crime and he succeeded.

Walking down the sand, you ignore the calls of the man as you return to the water. There's nothing around, no land, no safety, simply just a small cove a lot of soldiers don't account for until it is, fortunately, too late.

'Hey! Hey! You can't leave me here!' screams the man as you walk further into the water. 'I'm going to die out here! There's nothing around here, please, I told you what you wanted, how some mercy.'

Stopping in your tracks, you exhale, peering over your shoulder.

'This is mercy,' you briefly answer before walking into the water, disappearing out of his view for good.

Even under the water his screams travel though you don't care to show any form of kindness as you move away.

He deserves his death for his attempted lie, and you also find anger bubbling for you know what you have to do because of his confession- something you have been escaping for a while.

＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚ ☾ ˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

They work well on the side of the law, they stick to it as much as they can, though, when the pair of them shared a look while on the beach, they both knew what they had to do.

The breeze is gentle as the move the body further up the beach, occasionally turning their heads to look upwards in the direction for any sign of life as they do so.

Roland's intestines drag along the shore, his body leaking blood and water, leaving a gruesome trail behind the pair of them. Fortunately, the water will wash any trace of gore away and it will be as though he never existed in the first place.

'Why has she decided to pop up now?'

'First ship at sea for months,' he states, 'I'm surprised she hasn't tried to drag the entire village underwater with how torn she was.'

'What did you do with the girls body?' he asked, 'had Price choked up as he tried to explain to the Lord where the body disappeared off to, as far as he's concerned, there's no such thing as sirens cause he hasn't seen it with his own eyes.'

The old Lord is stubborn in his ways, that the pair of them know well enough not to bother questioning his reasonings. Upon his return, Simon recalls the look of upset when Price had to inform the man that they, as the guards of the village, failed at their duties. The body of the siren was nowhere to be seen, and he had to stand and watch as the Captain was subject to a brutal scolding, knowing well where the sirens body had disappeared off to.

It was unfair of him to do that, risking John's position all to keep the burial ground sacred and untouched, but he was still bruised and bleeding from the events that had taken place that night and the morning following.

All he can think about while standing in the room was the look on your face, how your bottom lip wobbled as you laid the fabric of your cherished dress upon the deceased girl, not bothering to consider your love for the item on your body, rather, the love you had for the woman lying in the ground.

Nothing was worth destroying that moment. Nothing.

'Buried it,' Simon answers, 'she's buried at the top of the cliff, just past the Lords house,' he says, setting the man down on the ground as they edge closer and closer to a small cove beneath the cliff, looking up at it.

'Lookin' over her home, ey?' Johnny asks with a small smile, 'her idea, I'm guessing.'

'It was mine, actually.'

'Didn't know y' were the sentimental type, Lt,' he comments with a smile, 'didn't know y' even had a heart.'

'I do,' Simon retorts.

'Really?'

'Yeah... a cold one.'

He doesn't miss the way the latter rolls his eyes.

'Wouldn't be sayin' that if she was here with you right now though, would ya?' he laughs, taking a breath before the pair of them continue to move the body. 'No, I can imagine y' now, all loved up. Thought of it makes me sick.'

Simon fights off the urge to scoff.

'Just say y' jealous, Johnny.'

'Oh, I am so jealous. I wish I had you to fall asleep to every night,' he whispers, his eyes moving from Simon to the body in their arms, 'cause, if that were the case, we'd be in bed right now, not carryin' a dead body, which your siren girlfriend mutilated, to hide it in a fuckin' cave,' he huffs, the darkness of the small cove swallowing the pair as they walked into it.

'These are typical activities for couples. We'd still be doin' it.'

Johnny doesn't bother to respond as the pair of them move further and further into the beast belly. 'Y' sure no kids gonna stumble across this corpse; he's gonna start to smell.'

'Tides rolling in tomorrow morning, not goin' back out until night,' Simon says, 'he'll be dragged back out to sea before anyone else gets to him.'

'Well, I hope y' right; if not, your girlfriends gonna be in a lot of trouble when the people in the village find out about this,' he says, finally relieving himself of the duty when he feels Simons hands slipping off of the body.

It lands in the wet sand of the cove with a wet splat, and the pair of them stare through the darkness, Johnny lifting his foot to find where exactly they placed the body.

'You think she's gonna come back?'

'Didn't dig her nails into him to for fun, Lt,' he answers, 'I reckon she'll show her face soon.'

Whether it is a few days, or even weeks, he doesn't care.

'I hope so.'

As long as you find your way back to him, the knowledge of you living is enough to soothe his weary eyes.

＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚ ☾ ˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

The sisters of a siren are fierce and loyal, even when your tongue burns as you speak to them of the events which had happened during your time on land.

You suffered similar hardships to Serelia, at least, they're convinced you did.

So, as you address the group with blown eyes drawn to the surface, explaining your reasoning as to why you should tread the land, to go back into that village, you're hardly surprised when their looks change as they address you.

Motive is of importance and you wish to solve the case, to bring justice to the woman buried on the cliff edge.

But, selfishly, you're also wishing to bring justice to a man who you wronged.

'Return to land?' a voice barks, 'you will do no such thing; the last time one of us went on Land, her life was taken from her cruelly, I'm not allowing that to happen to you, not at all,' she continues.

You stare at her, looking around at the other disapproving faces which surround you. There's still a void where she would have sat and you feel your lips pulling down into a frown as you stare blankly at the space beside the woman who holds her pointer finger up at you.

'It's irresponsible, you'll get yourself killed if you do that.'

'I finally have confirmation of which human killed Serelia, Raithe,' you respond, rubbing your face as you turn your eyes from the empty space to the angered siren. 'I can kill him, I will kill him, but I need to be on land in order to do so.'

There's a brief silence between yourself and the ground and you feel your chest tightening as you observe all their faces. While stoic, you feel as though the sea is pressing all its weight down onto you in an unlawful attempt to drown you.

Though, in the eyes of unhappiness, you find that you would be thankful if the sea had such a mercy on you.

'I don't understand why we never lead the entire village into the sea,' another siren says, batting her blonde eyelashes as she looks at you, 'would've have gotten this over in a second. We kept our silence up in the first place because they never got as far as killing one of our own, but they captured her and held her as a prisoner- they held you as a prisoner too,' she continues, 'why are you showing them mercy? They deserve to drown for their crimes.'

You pale at the thought of committing such an act against the village.

'Because...' your words trail as you take a harsh breath, sinking further into the current, 'there are children in the village- that's not who we are.'

All of them raise their eyebrows in your direction and you feel small as they do so. Your shoulders touch the lobes of your ears as your entire body tenses.

'That not who you are, not anymore at least,' Raithe scoffs, narrowing her black eyes. 'You've gone soft.'

'No I haven't,' you refute, 'I- I just—'

'She's in love she is,' another speaks, pushing through the water, moving behind you to grab your shoulders. Pushing you closer to the group, her grip tightenings as she forces your neck to the side, the base of her nose ghosting your flesh as inhales your scent.

You freeze as she does so, the only saving thought being the fact that you haven't been held by Simon in months.

Her sharp nails press against the flesh on your stomach, her eyes narrowing as grabs your face, forcing you to look at her.

'Tainted, you are,' she says, 'look in her eyes, look how she moves, you're protecting the very humans that killed our sister,' she accuses, the looks on the others faces hardening in your direction.

'You don't want to go on land for revenge, you want to go and see whoever you were with during the time you were supposed to be searching for Serelia,' Raithe exclaims, 'you are just as much of a monster as those humans are, you wicked little witch!'

'No, no I'm not,' you quickly blurt.

'Then we flood the village; they're all guilty of murder because they helped take her in the first place,' answers the black-haired woman simply.

With beady eyes you look at her, and when a tight-lipped smile appears on her face, you feel the sudden urge to vomit.

You sense betrayal burning in their beings and have an overwhelming desperation to be away from them despite the ties of blood that keep you bound as sisters.

You're released from the hold of the siren behind you all for your face to be caught with the hand of Raithe. Keeping her webbed hand against your face, her grip tightens on you, nails digging into your cheeks as she grits her dagger-like teeth at you.

You squirm in an attempt to escape her hold, yet the only thing you achieve as you do such is forcing her nails deeper.

'You chose your side even before this meeting,' Raithe seethes, 'you chose it when you let Serelia die, you chose it when you lied to us because you are in love, Amalise is right,' she laughs, shaking her head. 'You love a human, how can you be so sure they wouldn't do what they did to you what their kind did to Serelia?'

'B- Because he isn't like that,' you cry, 'he isn't like that, he took care of me, he did everything he could to make me happy and he helped me bury Serelia.'

Your eyes grow wide as you realise the confession that accidentally slipped past your lips.

You don't miss the collective gasp, nor do you miss the feeling of Raithe's hold on you loosening, pulling away from you completely.

'You buried her?' Amalise asks, 'you buried her on land?' her tone raises as she clenches your fist.

'I couldn't have—'

You're struck with a razor sharp hand.

Her claws tear the flesh of your face as you're thrown through the current.

For a moment, you're much too dazed to realise what has happened until your grabbed by the throat.

'How fucking dare you!' Raithe screams, 'you lied to us a- and you buried her on land away from us so we cannot visit her? You are no siren, you are just as monstrous as those humans.'

Her fist tightens around your throat, specks of darkness appearing in your eyes as you attempt to pull her hand off of you. Your nails dig into her flesh, but she doesn't budge.

'You wish to be a human so bad, right? That's what you want, you're burdened by being one of us because if they knew, they would kill you because that's who they are.'

'N- No,' you choke out.

She edges closer to you.

'I don't believe you,' she utters, looking over her shoulder, 'I say she returns to the land, let her human have her,' she suggests, addressing the other sirens.

Much to your horror, they nod in agreement.

Raithe turns back to you, cocking her head to the side as she narrows her black eyes. 'You can be there to witness his death when we lead him to the sea,' she firmly says as you weakly writhe, blood pouring from the slash on your face, a tingling washing your entire body as your hands on her wrists falter and the world begins to grow dark.

'See if he still loves you with a ruined face.'

A final wretch escapes you before you're forced into darkness, leaving the world behind with the disapproving look of Raithe being the very last thing you see.

＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚ ☾ ˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

Patrol around the village these is quiet, and while he enjoys the silence most of the time, he can't help but hate the silence he's plagued with as he's walking around the dark streets.

No matter where he walks he can never escape the sound of the crashing waves. Typically, he enjoys the sound of the water, of the gulls squawking as he passes by the beach, only, ever since uncovering the body of that sailor, he's found the sound only takes him back to the leaking body parts and hollow eyes.

In his time he has seen a lot, yet, that truly takes the cake.

It's for a good cause, Simon knows the implications of the siren attacks and if word got out to the village folk, it will sure be difficult to fix. Their silence has been in their favour as he hardly hears mentions of Serelia in the village anymore, yet, he knows the fear is still there for a lot of people.

Like a criminal, while on patrol, he cannot help but return to the scene of the crime, watchful eyes looking over the shore in search for blots of blood.

It's difficult to know why he is doing so; as far as he's concerned, no one knows what the pair of them did, and truthfully, if someone does stumble across the body, he is fine.

No one suspects a guard, the protector of all.

Sea foam coats the bottom of his boots as he mindlessly wanders further down the beach, his tired eyes looking up towards the moon sitting in the sky. Despite the clouds blocking any stars from his view, the moon makes sure to make her presence known.

If he weren't so tired, maybe he'd acknowledge the red tinge marking her surface.

'Hey you,' a voice hisses.

He stops, snapping his head to look around, his forehead wrinkling as he spies a woman a few meters away from him sitting in the water.

Upon first glance, he straightens his posture, preparing to scold the woman for being so careless, walking out into the water alone in the dead of the night.

Then, the water around her shifts as she lifts her tail up from out of the wind, the moonlight catching the green tinge of her scales.

'Bloody hell,' he blurts out under his breath.

Before him lies a woman with thick, long black hair.

She kicks her tail up, resting her arms around the ground as she stares up at him with wide, black eyes, offering him the best smile she can muster. Her teeth are as sharp as knives and she trails her tongue over the points of them as she grins.

'Come closer,' she requests.

'Ye gonna kill me, lassie,' he responds, 'I know ave got a fun haircut, but am not that stupid.'

The woman scoffs.

'I'm asking you nicely,' she sharply states, 'walk away and you'll be right back in the water with the sound of a song, so I advise you do what I'm asking of you and come closer.'

She grows as cold as the wind as she stares at him, her brows furrowing as she looks in his direction.

Goosebumps form on his skin, and while his head is telling him to do anything else, he relents to her demands, slowly moving closer to her.

The water touches his boots as she sighs, pushing herself off of her stomach, rolling the water with a bright grin, lifting her head to look at the man with a giggle.

'Oh, you listen so well, who would have thought a human would be obedient,' she chuckles, allowing her webbed hands to fall above her head, merely missing the edge of his boots. 'I've got something for you,' she claims.

'A death sentence, perhaps?'

'There was a girl in this village a while back... few months ago now, looked as you did, with your legs and your gill-less necks, but she wasn't true to you, nor your people for she was a siren.'

His eyebrows raise upon her words, and she laughs harder.

'Oh so now I've got your interest now... I don't suppose you're the lover she had while she was on land, are you?'

'Nae.'

'Do you know of the man who she loved?'

'Aye, he's my friend,' he says with a nod, 'you know where she is?'

'I have her with me, some of my friends are keeping hold of her,' she explains, 'but... we've been having a talk, you see, and she no longer views the ocean as her home, nor does she view us as her sisters; she has been tainted by your kind.'

Her face contorts in a horrific manner as she pokes at the tips of his boots. Though, he doesn't move, knowing better than to sacrifice the happiness of Simon for the sake of his own safety.

The man needs this- he needs you back.

'I'm a woman of morality and I am not going to force her to stay where she doesn't want to be, and quite frankly, she is no longer one of our own- rather a traitor to her own kind,' she says, sitting up from off of the ground, looking out at the sea, 'so, you can have her, let her seek out the man who she loves.'

Everything she's saying seems too good to be true.

As he looks away from the woman, two more heads appear above the water, though they are that of shadows as they move forward. As the move closer and closer, the black-haired woman reaches out with greedy hands, and from out of the water, she plucks you, pulling you up the shore with a grunt.

In the moonlight, he catches the brutal gash on your face, how you tale shimmers in the moonlight before it melts into the sand, dissipating in a crude shimmer as you're pushed to him.

'What have y' done to her?' he asks, rushing towards your unconscious form, shrugging his jacket from off of his shoulders, using it to cover you.

'She isn't dead,' answers the black-haired woman, 'that would have been too kind,' she barks out a laugh, watching as Johnny takes you into his arms, staggering backwards from her. 'No need to fear us,' she gently coos, 'at least, not yet.'

He doesn't care to listen a second longer as he looks down to the deep wound across your face, rushing across the beach towards the steps which lead back into the village, the cackle of the siren booming.

＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚ ☾ ˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

Nighttime is quiet now.

Whenever he isn't working, he's only plagued with violent desires and ideas, tossing and turning on the sofa, curtains drawn so the moon cannot see him.

His feet hang off of the sofa, a dull ache in his spine as he lies in darkness, unable to sleep.

Tonight is particularly difficult as his heartbeat thumps against his chest and he finds himself tossing and turning at the very fact that, the night before, he got the confirmation he has been longing for for months.

You're alive.

Only, after a while of joy, he finds sadness lurks beneath the realisation as Johnny's point of you returning to the water very well may be true, meaning you left him willingly.

Your absence is cruel in that sense.

He's staring at his skull mask, slowly dozing off as the pounding sound of fists against his door tear him from his dazed state. They're eager, quick and desperate. If they knock any harder, they very well might knock the door down.

With a snarl on his face, he pulls back the thin sheet drawn over his body, marching up to the door. From beyond it, he hears pants for air, not missing a thick accent uttering, 'c'mon bonnie, you're fine, yeah?'

Immediately, he grabs the handle of the door, forcing it open with a hard pull.

The knocking stops as Johnny looks up at him with wild eyes, shoving past him with a body in his arms, rushing into the living room. For a moment, Simon keeps his eyes trained on the now empty spot where he was just standing, a short breath escaping him as he recalls the familiar colour of the hair.

Slowly, he closes the door, listening to the ragged breaths of the man, turning to him with his stomach in knots. He watches as you're placed down onto the couch, air escaping him as he notes the red stain in the mans white shirt as he turns his attention to him.

'It's her, Si',' he says.

Simon doesn't move.

'Some siren was sittin' on the beach, she gave her to me, said she'd betrayed her kind- that she's no better than us,' he explains, moving away from the sofa to the bookshelf, his hand patting along the wood in hopes of uncovering the box of matches he's spied a few times.

Moving over to the sofa, Simon reaches his hand out to you, resting it down on your shoulder. You're cold to the touch, the scent of sea water filling his nose as he hears the scrape of a match and the crackle of a wick.

An orange light is cast over your being as Johnny stands beside him with a candle in his hand.

From out of the darkness appears a crude claw-like mark on your cheek, blood dripping from the harsh gash down onto your bruised neck.

'What the fuck did they do to her?' he asks through gritted teeth, tearing at the fabric of his own shirt, kneeling down beside you, pressing the fabric against the cut on your face.

A noise escapes you when he does so, and he feels a heat bubbling in his stomach.

'You're okay, sweetheart,' he utters gently, keeping a firm pressure on the wound.

'I don't know,' Johnny answers, 'pulled her out of the water and gave 'er to me... said they don't want her anymore.'

Blood soaks into the fabric of his shirt as you stir.

A moan escapes your mouth, and as your eyes slowly open, you're aware of the agonising pain emitting from your cheek. Then follows the feeling of a familiar sofa, the sound of familiar voices and the warmth of a familiar hold.

Opening your eyes, you're greeted with the sight of Simon in the candle light.

Despite the bags under his eyes and the addition of a few pink scars on his face, he still looks as glorious as he did the night you left him.

'Simon?' you choke out at the sight of him.

You catch a shift in his eyes as he looks at you.

'I'm here, love,' he gently says, 'you're safe; I've got you.'

You can be there to witness his death when we lead him to the sea.

You hear her voice, her cruel tone, and the coldness of her words flood through your veins, fighting off any ounce of warmness from Simon's reassurances.

I shouldn't be here.

In the blink of an eye, you're sitting up and his hold is removed from off of your face as you scramble to the other side of the couch, wincing as a harsh dizziness floods your senses and the desire to vomit springs upon you.

'N- no, no, no,' you quickly say, lifting your head with narrow eyes, pulling the fabric of Johnny's coat against your bare body as you look at the two men with teary eyes. 'How... why, why am I here? How did you get me here?' you ask in a panicked tone.

Simon looks to Johnny and Johnny looks at you.

'There was a siren on the beach—'

'Who?' you snap, 'what colour was her hair?'

'Black... bonnie, are you okay? What happened?'

'I can't be here,' you ramble, 'they're gonna do something bad, they're gonna do it all because of me and- and I—'

You begin to cry.

'I can't be here, you've got to let me go,' you beg, attempting to raise to your feet, all for the dizziness to keep you down. 'Please, please!'

You feel as though the world is ending.

Unable to escape the horror of the words expressed, you fight against yourself and the urge to spill your guts all over the floor of the living room, your tears seeping into the wound on your face.

Simon moves closer to you, placing his hand against your knee, looking up at you with teary eyes.

Reaching out your hand, you rest it against his cheek as more tears flow freely, letting out a hiccup upon being graced with the warmth of his face.

'I'm sorry,' you cry.

Placing his hand over your own, he shushes you, 'we'll talk about it once you've told us what's happened, alright sweetheart?' he asks gently, 'what happened?'

His calmness in the face of horror is unnerving, and as you look in his eyes, you spy a darkness in his eyes. You wish to be in his arms, but your temper keeps you from fulfilling the urge as you press your trembling lips together, wincing as you swallow.

'They know,' you say, looking at Simon, 'they know about you,' you choke out, 't- they think I'm a traitor and they want you dead- they want to put the entire village to death for what happened to Serelia.'

His hold tightens on your hand.

'Why didn't you want the same as them?' Johnny asks, 'very well could have put the entire village under water if y' willed it.'

'Because there are people here who don't deserve to die,' you sniffle, 'there are innocent people here a- and it isn't fair to punish them for the violence of someone else's hand,' you explain, 'they're blinded by their rage, and if I were without experience, I would be too.'

You curse the part of you which still sympathises with the people who cast you out, though, you know enough to understand who the true villain is. Not the sirens, not the humans, rather, the ignorance of both sides refusing to see the perspective of the others.

And here you are, attempting to piece together a bridge.

The pair before you don't speak and you feel your heart beating quicker as you look into the eyes of the lover you abandoned many moons ago. You spy betrayal in his gaze, though his anger is not directed towards you.

'They're gonna lead the entire village underwater,' you breath, 'I don't know when they're going to do it and I don't know how to stop them when they finally do decide they want to do it,' you say, your eyes welling with tears.

'Oh love,' Simon exhales gently.

'We won't let anythin' happen, lass, y' have my word,' Johnny reassures.

You suppose he wants you to find comfort in his words, yet, his enthusiasm only works to bruise you further; you know there's nothing either of them can do, not against the call of a siren.

'I offered to go back on land,' you whisper, 'I told them I could do it; we finally got the name if the man who killed Serelia.'

'This have somethin' to do with the man y' massacred?' Johnny asks.

'I was following the ship because I recognised him,' you answer, recalling the tone he carried while talking about the man in front of you.

Even if he hadn't been responsible for helping in her capture, you still would have been taken from off of the boat.

'He was one of the people who carried Serelia off of the beach. He deserved what became of him.'

To regret would be to forgive, and you will never forgive a man who did something so terrible.

'We crashed the boat, all but one died, and I asked him if he knew who did it. He told me he didn't know who, but he had an idea of who did it; people around here know that whoever it was is close to the guard.'

Both Johnny and Simon share a look.

'Y' not saying you think it's one of us, are you?' Simon asks, to which you quickly shake your head.

'No, no, I know neither of you would do that- not even Kyle or Price would stoop that low... it's the one who was supposed to look after her, Si'. It was the one who told us she was dead that morning.'

The silence in the room is deafening.

Simon's hand moves away from yours as he slowly begins to stand up, his eyes falling back to the staircase. 'Rhys?' Johnny says, his eyes blown, 'he said he liked her.'

Your eyes stay on Simon's as he clenches his fists, the mellow look which has been on his face since he saw you melting off. Trailing his tongue across the inside of his mouth, you gulp thickly viewing his anger.

'I'm gonna fuckin' kill him,' he coldly says.

It's not a threat, rather, a promise.

Neither you or Johnny say anything, instead, the pair of you share a look before your eyes fall back to Simon who is already making his way out of the living room towards the staircase.

If you speak now, you fear the repercussions of stopping him from doing what he's set his mind on doing; while you never saw anything during your first time on land, you're not unknown to the truth of who he truly is.

'Simon,' you blurt out, unable to fight against your thoughts as you look up the stairs.

He stops in his tracks, heaving out a heavy breath before turning to you. You can hardly make him out in the dim light as he moves, devoid of all the light which makes his so ethereal.

Still, in the light or darkness, he's still the man who holds you heart.

'D- Don't act on that anger now,' you quietly say, 'the only way of saving the village from them is to give them what they want... if they want Rhys, they'll want him alive, and if they don't want me, then I'll stay here,' you say through a laboured breath.

Your heartaches at the thought of leaving your home, leaving the grave of your mother abandoned for all the others to swarm. But, if they so willingly cast you out, then, you suppose they were never truly family in the first place.

'Just... stay with me tonight, yeah?' you ask, 'don't want you to do something harsh when you're not thinking straight; he'll get what he deserves, just not tonight.'

You hear him shift as Johnny sets the lit candle down onto the stand beside the sofa. 'She's right, Lt, can't be doin' something that will keep you away from your bonnie; been away from each other long enough, hey?'

He moves away from the darkness, coming back into the light. You offer him a smile as he places his hand against your shoulder with a short nod. Placing your hand over his, you melt into his hold. Johnny looks at the pair of you with a smile on his face.

'We'll sort out a plan in the morning about what we'll do,' Simon says, 'figure out how we're gonna get him to the sirens, and if they agree with the deal, then we'll offer him up and forget this entire thing ever happened.'

'Aye,' Johnny says with a firm nod, approaching the door, 'make sure y' get her cleaned up, I'll meet the pair of you at the bakery tomorrow,' he continues, pulling the door open, looking over his shoulder at the pair of you.

Simon nods his head. 'Affirmative.'

As the man disappears into the night, the door closes with a click, and for the first time in months, you're finally alone with the man. You don't miss the breath that escapes him, in fact, you grow cold at the sound as his hand leaves your shoulder.

'Si'—'

'Need to get you cleaned up,' he abruptly says, 'we can talk about everything once I know you're okay, yeah? You need to get cleaned up before anything, c'mon.'

Your teeth sink into your bottom lip and you fight against the urge to defy his request. Though, recalling the grey bags under his eyes, you find you're raising from where you're sitting. As he said, you can talk about it later, and for now, you find yourself thankful that he simply wants to enjoy your company.

＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚ ☾ ˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

'I'm sorry,' you whisper as soon as your head hits the pillow. Oddly, as you watch the man move in the moonlight, it's difficult to even process the fact that you have been gone for so long.

Your hair is slightly damp your bath, and while the wound on your face feels as though it has its own heartbeat, the dressing covering it keeps it from weeping freely.

'I just didn't know what to do, and- and I was so angry with myself and I didn't trust—'

'Your hand was forced, love,' Simon utters, laying on is side to look at you. 'I just wish you would have woke me up or left me a note- something to let me know that you were okay.'

Your heart drops at the thought of the months of misery he has suffered through by your hand.

Even though to you it seemed necessary, you know better than to impose your own views onto the man who was left wandering where you had disappeared off to for months on end.

Your absence was necessary yet cruel.

'I know, I know I should have and I'm sorry for not saying something to you,' you respond, reaching your hand out to grab his much larger one. He grabs your hand, wrapping his fingers around yours with a sigh. 'I wish I never left.'

'You did what you thought was right in the moment an' I'd be a prick for telling you you were in the wrong for doin' it,' mumbles the man, 'y' had to figure stuff out. All that matters now is that you're back.'

'I won't be goin' anywhere anytime soon if you're planning on staying with me,' you say, 'could kick me to the streets for everything I've put you through; I wouldn't blame you for doing it.'

'Wouldn't ever dream about it, sweetheart,' he says.

You watch as he scoffs before moving towards you, letting go of your hand to grasp your waist, pulling you towards him.

Shuffling closer, you smile as you press your lips against you, a flurry of butterflies swirling in your stomach a you feel his hand on your waist tighten.

All the months of pain melt in the matter of moments as the pair of you hold each other. It's as though the pair of you have been apart for multiple lives, plagued with the memory of each other, until eventually meeting again in this life.

Tears pool in your eyes, your hand pressing against the side of his face, snaking around to tug at his hair as he bites down on your bottom lip.

A muffled moan escapes you, trailing off into a whine when he pulls away from you. A trail of saliva keeps the pair of you connected as your eyes flicker from his mouth back to his eyes.

'I've missed you so much,' you confess, blinking back the tears as he smiles at you. 'So fucking much- there hasn't been a day I haven't thought about you.'

His hand against your waist loosens as he moves his hand under the white shirt he dressed you in, moving between your thighs.

'Missed you too,' he confesses, his index finger brushing over your clothes cunt with a sigh. 'Wanna show you how much I've missed you,' he utters, pressing the tip of his finger into against your clit.

You comply with a kiss, a small giggle escaping you as he pulls you on top of him. Hands sliding down your waist, you begin to undress, all for one of his hands to catch your wrist. 'Keep it on, sweetheart,' he rasps, 'like seein' you in my clothes.'

Colour rushes to your cheeks as you nod your head, hands gripping the waistband of his underwear, pulling them down.

There's no need for anything, the desire to feel him inside you after so many months obscuring any other sense of yours.

You need him and he needs you.

Tugging down his underwear, goosebumps form on your skin when you hear him grunt as you pull them further down his thighs, freeing his cock from his boxers. You sit for a moment, jumping when you feel his hands squeeze your hips.

'Spit in your hand, love,' he instructs.

You feel his eyes on you as you scrunch your nose up at the request.

'What?'

'Listen to me and I'll help you, yeah?' he asks, 'now spit in your hand.'

Your entire face is warm as you hold your hand out in front of your, spitting into it. 'Good girl,' he breaths, 'now wrap your hand around my cock.'

Listening to him, you reach out, wrapping your hand around him. He hisses as you do so, and you pause upon seeing his reaction, fearful that you've done something wrong. 'That's right,' he utters, as precum pools at the top of your fist as you feel him twitch in your hold, 'no more your hand up and down f'r me, love, get me ready for that pretty little cunt of yours.'

A sinful sound emits as you begin to move your hand up and down his cock, your slick hand moving up and down with ease. You feel his thighs tense below you as you move a hand between your legs, your mouth turning dry from the wetness pooling in your underwear.

'That's desperate, princess?' Simon grunts with a smile on his face. You feel the urge to wipe it off of his face, though, you nod your head in agreement, knowing better than to deny something you so desperately want. 'Pull your panties to the side,' he instructs, 'not touchin' that pussy of yours; you're gonna come from my cock an' nothin' else,' he gruffly says.

Letting go of his cock, you do at he asks of you, a small yelp escaping you as he pulls your forward, his cock pressing against you folds as he sighs.

There's a temperament, a desire lingering to keep you on top, though, as he looks at you with your swollen lips and red face, he relents, moving you so you're lying on your bak with him over you.

'Got plenty of time for all that,' he utters, pressing his tip against your hole.

You clench around nothing, shifting beneath him as he presses his lips against yours.

It's different from the last time, you see something different in his eyes as he pushes into you, the delightful sting from many moons ago returning. Arching your back off of the bed, your whimper against his mouth.

'That's it,' he whispers, 'oh fuck.'

Your legs tighten around his waist, a few stray tears escaping from your eyes. It's a mixture of pain, pleasure, and joy. To be back in his arms after so much time a part is a gift in itself, for him to want you back is another. Your mind is racing as you sniffle, pressing another kiss against his mouth.

'Y' okay, yeah, princess? So good f'r me,' he grunts, slowly pulling out of you. More tears fall down your face as you nod your head, your eyes screwed shut as he thrusts back into you. Clicking his tongue, he pushes into you with another grunt, 'eyes on me, sweet girl,' he huffs, 'haven't waited months for you and your pretty little cunt for you to not look at me, have I?'

You open your eyes.

'That's it, there's my pretty girl.'

You clench around him upon hearing his words, legs trembling as he quickens the pace of his thrusts. The head of his cock presses against your cervix and your arms home to his back, nails digging into the flesh of his back.

'I- I've missed you,' you choke out, unable to account for any other emotion as he fucks into you.

You're crying at this point, the tears on the right side of your face soaking into the dressing as he continues to his all the right spots, stretching you out perfectly.

He's ruined you for anyone else, though it doesn't matter; you know you'll never need anyone else when you have him.

'Missed you too, love,' he states through clenched to teeth , 'missed waking up to you and seeing you, but you're not gonna go anywhere now, you're mine.'

'I am, I am,' you dumbly cry, 'no one else's, all yours forever and ever.' 'm sorry for ever leaving you.'

Keeping himself steady with one hand, he brings his other hand to grab your forearm, pulling one of your arms away from his back, taking it into his hold. Your legs tighten around his waist as a crude squelch sounds in the room, h

'Fuck,' you gasp, your hole tightening around him.

'That’s right, love,' he groans, his lips ghosting over your shoulder, his words were low and sickeningly needy, 'you’re so fucking tight,' he moans, resulting in a hiccuped moan escaping you.

Both of you greedily take whatever pleasure came from your messy movements, sweat dropping down your forehead as you tighten you hold on his hand, writhing below him as he continues to hit the spot which has you seeing stars.

'Gonna make sure I'm always here,' you whisper letting out another breathy moan.

Simon maintains a pleasurable pace, a crude slapping sounding in his bedroom, though neither of you care, and through stinging eyes and aching muscles, you admire him in the light of the moon, taking into account all the flaws on his face, the remnants of mistreatment and burdens, swearing to yourself you will never left another pale scar appear on his body for as long as the pair of you live.

'Not gonna let you leave me now, sweetheart,' he begins, staring down at you, his fringe wet with sweat, stray strands sticking to his forehead. 'Gonna keep you safe, fuck,' he schemes, a subconscious smile forming on your face, listening to him speak. 'Make sure y' never want for anything, only me.'

He growls such words with intent and possessiveness, and in the heat of the moment, you're convinced you need no one but him.

And as the tension in your stomach grows tighter, the brunet hit a spot which almost makes you scream, you drag your hand down his back, leaving lines of red behind as you do so. 'And you'll let me do all of that f'r you,' he chuckles.

'I would,' you whimper, 'fuck, I'm close, please,' you beg, as your thighs begin to tremble, you grip on his hand tightening as you press your head back against the pillow.

'Go on, sweetheart,' he says, 'cum for me.'

He winces slightly as he feels your nails press crescents into his skin, his pace growing messy and sporadic as he chases after his own release.

Squeezing your eyes shut, you let out a brittle sob as an orgasm rips through your body.

'Fuck, that's it, sweetheart' he moans, 'I love you,' he grunts out, pressing into your, your cunt against his pubic bone as his hands tremble.

You barely compute the words passing his lips, and in the daze of your release, you continue to cry as he fucks you despite you being overstimulated, a dark groan escaping from the back of his throat as you feel strings of cum paint your insides.

'I- I love you too, so much,' you sniffle, your head falling against the pillow in exhaustion, finding joy in his hold of you and the pleasure which has washed over your body, rendering all your sense his.

Little worries find you in the aftermath, the pair of you much too tired to discuss what can wait for you in the morning, and the only thing that matters to you in the wake of your orgasm is his body being pressed against yours as you slowly drift off knowing that, even if it is just for tonight, you're secure in his hold.

Here, you find a single moment is comparable to an eternity of touches.

＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚ ☾ ˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

In the morning, you find yourself sitting outside of the bakery with the ugly green dress you grew to despise during your first time out of the shore, and as you sit beside Simon tugging at the skirt, you startle when he firmly tugs it down, placing his hand down on your thigh, over the skirt to keep in place.

He does so without even turning his attention to you, and even when you turn to offer him a brief look, he doesn't move, keeping his eyes trained on Johnny as he sips from his mug of tea.

'Kyle said he saw another one,' says the man with the mohawk, 'seems they're waiting near the shore for something to happen, or, they're planning on making their move a lot soon than we thought.'

Your face aches as you chew, gulping your pastry down before speaking. 'They wouldn't act so quickly,' you say, 'they want me to get a taste of this before they take it away; when Raithe is angry, she's unforgiving.'

'That's the lass I saw on the beach, right?' Johnny asks, 'the one with the black hair an' teeth as sharp as daggers.'

'Yeah, she's the one who did this to me,' you say, pointing towards the fingerprints around your neck and the clean dressing stuck to your face. Taking a bite out of your pastry, Simon leans further into the table, keeping his hand pressed firmly against your thigh.

'I've put him on patrol tonight,' he says quietly, 'we'll get him alone, call for them to have him and then that will be the end of it.'

'Y' really think it's gonna be that easy?' Johnny asks, 'they seem pretty pissed, don't think they'd really leave us alone that easily.'

'There's nothing else we can do,' you say, 'unless you wanna go into the water and pull them all out one by one and put a knife through their heads, that is.'

Simon's grip on your thigh tightens.

'Cut their tongue out and throw them back into the water if they try anythin',' he cooly states, 'can't sing then, become nothin' but a fish with claws, hardly a threat. They can suffer for all I care.'

Something stirs in your gut as he says so, and while you feel as though you need to keep the women you devoted your life to, you find yourself torn with the desire of seeing the man being so lethal- of seeing how far he would go to keep you safe.

'Sounds like a plan, Lt,' Johnny responds, 'this stayin' between us?'

'Affirmative,' Simon confirms, 'Gaz an' Price don't need to know about it 'cause it'll only cause more trouble if the Captain finds out about it; he won't let us do it.'

'Then we do it tonight, get rid of him and wipe our hands of him,' you say with a grin, 'about time that son of a bitch got what he deserves.'

＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚ ☾ ˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

In the midst of the night, you travel down the steps of the shore alone keeping your eyes peeled as you tread down the shore towards the sand. Your hands tremble in the breeze as you feet grace the sand, te rolling of the tide whispering for your return.

You stay unmoved by the moon and her red glow as you push forward towards the sea, holding your hand against your face as it aches.

All the smiling proved to be particularly poor for the placement of the mark on your face, though you push through the pain, you lips drawn together as you peer onto the surface of the water.

'I thought you'd return,' a voice calls.

You freeze.

As a wave washes up shore, the webbed hands of a woman appear, dragging her body out of the water. Her claws dig into the surface, her pointed ears twitching upon seeing you.

'You not bring your boyfriend with you?' she pouts, tilting her head to the side, 'would have been nice, y'know, meeting the family and stuff.'

'I'm not here to make small talk,' you sharply respond.

Raithe looks at you, raising her eyebrows as she looks at you.

'Oh?' she laughs, 'then please enlighten me.'

'I'm here to make a deal with you,' you breath, bringing your trembling hands together.

One shot or you've fucked it.

The woman's laughter booms along the sea as she rolls around on the ground, clapping her hands. 'Oh, you wanna make a deal with me now? It's a real shame what's become of you, y'know? If I didn't know any better, I'd say that boyfriend of yours has some explaining to do.'

Her comments cause your blood to boil, yet, you remain calm, looking her in the eyes. 'We have the boy who killed Serelia,' you say, clenching your fists, keeping your arms firmly placed against your side as the woman hums. 'We'll give you him and you can do what you please, forbid me the pleasure of getting to rip him to shreds for what he did to her and leave this village alone.'

'A generous offer you pose my lovely,' Raithe hums, pressing her finger against her plush bottom lip. 'You got anything else to sweeten the deal or is that it?'

'I'll never return to the ocean,' you say. 'I'll stay away, stay here on land. You can do what you please as long as it remains in the ocean and not beyond it; you know nature did not give us such a gift to act in the manner you intend to act concerning the people in this village.'

You step back from the shore, keeping the water from touching your feet.

'How is that fair?' Raithe asks, furrowing her eyebrows. 'You get to stay here and live out your life with the human you have foolishly devoted your life to while we're kept from Serelia because you buried her on land.'

'By staying here you are keeping me from the grave of my mother, Raithe,' you spit, "I know you're upset, but I have been punished enough. I'm giving you what you want- you want to kill the person who killed Serelia, don't you?'

Raithe's grin disappears from her face.

'You've been scheming so long you forget who the true murderer is. If I wanted to kill the person who killed Serelia, I would have slit your fucking throat,' she snaps, 'a human dealt the final blow but you are just as guilty for permitting it.'

'I was looking for her,' you blurt.

'If you were so committed to finding her, she would be here beside me right now, but she isn't; she's buried on the land, away from her home.'

'Simon helped me bury her on the clifftop!' you yell, chest raising and falling rapidly. 'She overlooking our home and it was him who came up with the idea in the first place- there are good humans—'

'Simon,' she repeats, 'slips off the tongue that name does.'

Your heart is pounding in your chest as you look at the wicked woman in the water. Her mocking grin renders you small, fragile, and you realise your mistake in mentioning the name of the man.

'I must see the man you speak of, see if he's a good match for you or if you could do better. Perhaps he would be a good friend for the water, hm?' she teased, bowing her head as another chuckle escapes her.

The crunch of sand alerts the pair of you, and as you look over your shoulder, you catch both Simon and Johnny walking along the shore, Rhys in the middle of them as he fights against their hold with his hands tied in front of him.

A delighted squeal escapes the woman lying in the sand as she catches sight of the tall man in the skull mask. 'Oh, I've seen you!' she exclaims, 'sitting on the beach a lot, hey? One might say you belong in the water with the amount of time you've spent here.'

'Shut it,' you snap, turning your attention to the three men standing behind you.

When your eyes meet with Rhys' you find you heart urges you to disobey the terms of your own deal, ripping him from the arms of the men, all to have the satisfaction of watching him crying and fight as he drowns in an inch of water.

Yet, even that isn't fitting for him.

His cries are muffled behind the gag in his mouth and Johnny does you the favour of pulling it out of his mouth. As he opens his mouth, he looks at you with wide eyes. 'I- I fuckin' knew it!" he exclaims, 'I knew I wasn't dreaming when I saw you run into the sea that night.'

'You killed Serelia,' you snap, crossing your arms over your chest.

'Didn't think it was that difficult to figure out,' he says, 'no one else knew where she was... well, not until you had your screaming and crying fit outside the cabin; that was a—'

He's stopped as Simon shoves him to the ground. He lands with a thud, all the air escaping his lung as he moans out in pain. Placing his boot on top of the mans head, his face is pressed into the wet sand as he turns to address the woman in the water.

'We got y' the one you want,' he sharply says, 'you take him and you leave.'

'Or?' the woman asks,.

'I cut your tongue out and feed it to the dogs in the village,' he snaps.

Rhys' cries are muffled as Raithe looks Simon in the eyes. Your eye twitches at the prolonged silence, though, when she whistles you find your nerves escaping you.

'A few months ago, you would have had his head for speaking to one of your own like that,' Raithe sneers looking at you, 'but love has your mind warped, my sweet urchin, yes it does,' she scoffs, her eyes narrowing as she turns her attention down towards the water. 'You have yourself a deal, Simon,' she says with a smile.

Relieving his boot from the head of the sobbing man on the ground, Rhys picks his head up, fat tears rolling down his face as he writhes on the ground, attempting to push himself up off of the ground. 'P- Please, I'm sorry,' he sobs, snot trailing down his upper lip as more heads appear from out of the water.

You're far from envious of his position when his shoulders are grabbed. Though, you long to be in the water for what is about to happen.

His screams are hoarse and rough as he's ripped from his home, and as you walk back to stand beside Johnny and Simon. Rhys claws and fights to stay on land as Raithe pulls him further and further towards the water.

Other webbed hands appear and the shrill shriek the man lets out is cut off by a hand covering his mouth as he's dragged into the water.

Upon his disappearance, you allow a breath to escape your mouth as you lean against Simon, rubbing your tired eyes. For months you have dreamt of this very moment, the moment the man who caused so much trouble is finally met with the punishment he deserves, and when his hand breaks the surface of the water again, you grin at the sight of the sea turning red, chunks of his clothing surfacing.

As savage as sharks are the sirens.

'It's done,' you mumble, turning away from the scene.

Simon looks down at you, 'you wanna go home?' he asks.

You nod your head, as the three of you begin to walk up the beach, your blood running cold as a familiar cackle catches your attention, though, you do not turn to address the woman. Instead, you catch Simon's hand in yours pushing further up the beach as Raithe calls out to the three of you.

'Lovely meeting ya, Simon! Hope to see you again some other time!'

His hold on your hand tightens just as it had done during the night before as you walk away from the sea with him by your side, never intending to let go of him ever again.

＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚ ☾ ˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

It's as though you never left him, and every waking moment you spend with him is a blessing. How a human can be a home is a strange concept to you, though, its an oddity that you're fond of.

'Are you gonna eat your dinner or are you going to keep staring at me, sweetheart?' asks the man with a laugh.

Dropping your head, you look down at the plate of food you helped him prepare, your cheeks flushing with colour.

The wound left by your absence is but a wilting scab at this point, the skin beneath unmarked by the actions of your past for the pair of you have an understanding of you where your loyalties lie, and as you pick your head back up to look at him, you understand that your loyalties lie with one another.

'I don't know,' you mumble, 'difficult to take my eyes off of you.'

He grunts at your words, picking his fork up from the side of his plate. 'Your foods going to get cold,' he warns.

You pick your fork up, rolling your eyes, 'you're no fun.'

He lets out a short laugh, 'of course not, love. Got a job to stick to after all.'

'Not while you're with me you don't,' you say.

'Once a siren, always a siren,' he comments.

Setting your fork down, you grab a boiled potato off of your plate, throwing it at him. Unfortunately, he's aware of your plot and manages to duck of of the way before it hits him.

A small laugh escapes you as you're quick to push your chair out, raising to your feet as he does the same. A squeal escapes you are you rush out of the kitchen into the living room with him hot on your trail.

Sprinting up the steps to his bedroom, you shriek as he grabs you and pulls you against his chest. 'Let me gooooo,' you whine, writhing in his hold, 'it was an accident, it slipped out of my hand I was literally about to eat it!'

You land on the bed with a thud, continuing to laugh as he looms over you, his forehead pressed against yours as you look up at him with a bright smile on your face.

'You've got to believe me.'

'You picked it up and you threw it at me,' he answers back, 'I know y' clumsy, sweetheart, but fuck me, are you really that bad?' he asks, pressing his forehead against yours.

Bringing your hands up, you hold either side of his face, looking into his eyes with a sigh. 'I love you,' you say, abandoning the joke the pair of you were tangled in. His stoic expression shatters as he smiles down at you, placing a chaste kiss on your lips.

'I love you too,' he utters, before placing his lips back on yours.

In the safety of his arms and his home, you live in high spirits as you know, even when the four walls and the roof are not there to shelter you from a storm, the man with his lips against yours and a hand under your skirt will always be there for you whenever you need him.

Selfishly, you hope he's there forever and ever all for you and only you as you cherish every single part of him.

The regrets from your actions in the past remain on you in the form of the scar on your cheek, though, he sees you no different as he watches your naked body dripping with sweat in the confines of your bedroom, even when you're simply sitting in the library reading a book.

All the time his eyes are on you as though you're the only girl in the world and in return, he knows that you're eyes remain on him and only him.

'You're gonna be the death of me,' he breathes, as you shift, feeling his fingers pressed against your hole.

A smirk appears on your lips.

'Only if it's by your hand I die and no one else's.'

＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚ ☾ ˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

'Simon.'

In the dead of night he wakes to the faint sound of a whisper.

It's something calling for him, a song which shakes the very vibrations of his home, and as he opens his eyes, he captures you sleeping soundly beside him, though, he doesn't care for you as he pushes himself up and out of bed.

His headaches and he wobbles as he climbs from out of his bed. It's as though his body is on autopilot, permitting whatever strange force is pushing him to proceed with his usual routine as he gets up from out of bed.

He walks as though he's a monster, devoid of all consciousness, his limps sluggish and flimsy as he pulls on his clothes for work. You don't move and inwardly, he's unsure why he's doing so; the moon is out, full and round as she peers through the open window, and he knows it's still going to be a while before he has to leave for work.

Still, the urge pushes him to get ready for the day, and he reaches for the skull mask settled against the table near the window of his bedroom, tying it around his head.

You remain sleeping in bed as he moves downstairs, determined to find the noise which causes his head to pound. It feels as though someone is pressing their fingers into his head all to see which part of the brain bleeds the most.

The answer is all of it, though the voice continues to pick away at his skull with such persistence he's rendered aggravated as he walks through the door.

His entire body is on fire as he treads the streets he was walked so many times, though his feet drag against the roads of the silent village, arms firmly pressed against his sides as he presses on with tired eyes and a dry mouth.

The voice changes its tune, no longer calling his name, istead, speaking words.

'Foolish mortal men.'

In a conscious state he would be questioning the words addressed to him in such a manner, he would be questioning why he walks with the intent of making it to the water, and he would be returning back to his home with an ache in his chest for ever thinking of leaving you alone.

But he doesn't.

Instead, he drags his feet with determination coursing through his veins.

To the ocean he must go; the voice is calling him and he cannot fight against the words bouncing off of the streets of the village.

'Sinking into the watery depths of the...'

It grows tired as he edges closer to the water, the crashing of the water flooding his ears, coaxing his burning mind with a brief cure. t's not enough, however, his mouth is dry and his tongue burns, eyes longing for the fiery thirst to subside.

His entire body feels as though it's on fire, and the sea stares back at him, water washing up the shore as the arms of a human would when offering a friend a hug.

Something else is staring too.

'Sirens den.'

The voice is oh so soft, almost a whisper as he makes it onto the beach. The village seems so puny in comparison to the greatness of the vast ocean and he wonders why he ever bothered living on land when the ocean i right her at his fingertips.

Shrugging his cloak from off of his shoulders, he releases himself from the burden of the confines of that stupid cloak, the balaclava from around his mouth falling to the ground after.

It all feels so freeing, to fall under the command of the great sea, to see the beauty in the very thing he has despised for so long. Such an outlook is a blessing, he finds.

It's necessary. It's constant.

He is nothing in comparison of the ocean and her greatness.

No one is anything but flesh and bone existing in one place at one time while she is there, her arms wrapped around the entirety of the planet.

How foolish he has been.

'For a woman in the sea,'

He thinks of you and all you have done for him, how you have freed him, though he finds you and your existence pale in existence of te water which invites him in with open arms.

At first, you were difficult to deal with, untrusting.

But she isn't, she guides him and she's leading him to safety- to the place he belongs. Such a blessing she presents him with and everything you have done for him is nothing as she cools his burning flesh.

It's better than any orgasm he has reached while in bed with you, so inviting that he proceeds to walk into the water deeper. Nothing is enough, her presence is too little. He needs more of her to settle the dull ache in his head and he wades through the water with the intent of finding such.

'is never just a friend.'

The tune stops.

Suddenly, the sea is no longer in his favour and he's turned away with a cold rush of water covering him.

A sharp gasp escapes him as he looks around him, the water up to his waist, waves crashing against his bulky frame as he looks around with stinging eyes. His blood runs cold as he turns his attention back to the village. Then his eyes fall back onto the water.

He knows better than to trust the situation, wasting no time to turn away from the distant abyss of the water, pushing himself through the water all to make it back to land.

To make it back to you.

The depth of the water is relieved, sinking from his waist to mid thigh.

A grunt escapes him as a surge of agony hits him with the fierce intent of keeping him from getting home and he lands with a splash into the water as razor sharp nails are pulled from out of his his thigh.

'Unfaithful scum,' utters a voice as hands from all angles poke from out the water, grabbing him as he attempts to fight his way from out of their hold.

They're merciless as the hold him and keep him to the water while his heart and mind long to be back in bed beside you. He fights and fights, though in his drowsy state he's far too out of it to do anything.

'She's better off without you, Simon.'

＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚ ☾ ˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

You awake in bed alone, a banging at the door ruining your brain. However, you don't let it distract you as you spend a moment looking at the empty spot in the bed with a frown.

It's miserable to wake without him in the morning as you have grown fond of spending time with him, lying in bed, drawing patterns on his bare chest, listening to his many stories, or simply just basking in the heat of him.

The bed is cold without him and you shiver as you push yourself up, scoffing at the manic knocks against the door. It's persistent, nearly urgent. You pick up the pace, wrapping Simon's shirt around you as you rush down the stairs to the front door.

Grabbing the handle you pull it open, 'about fuckin' time, Si', you're—'

'What?' you blurt out, looking at Johnny and Gaz standing at the door, 'he's at the station, isn't he?'

The pair of them look at each other before looking at you.

'Nae, lass,' Johnny says, his mouth falling as he looks at you. 'We've been looking for him.'

Your blood runs cold.

He's probably with the Lord or something, it wouldn't be the first time he's be asked for a favour by him.

'Where have you checked?' you ask, quickly slipping on your sandals.

'We've been up and down all the streets to his usual spots, we've even checked the Lords house and he hasn't seen him either... this isn't like him,' Kyle explains, 'he's committed to his job, he wouldn't just not show up and—'

'Have you checked the beach?' you blurt.

Both of them shake their heads and with that, you're running out of the house, rushing to towards the beach.

A wave of panic washes over you, and as you rush down the main street of the village with teary eyes, you feel as though you're rushing to Serelia all over again, only, this time, Simon isn't behind you to comfort you.

People blurt out curses as you push yourself through the crowds, bounding towards the beach just as you did when you returned all those months ago.

Your chest burns by the time you make it to the steps, and as you run down, you stop at the sight of a black mound on the shore. Gulping thickly, you rush towards the pile of fabric, reaching down to retrieve it with a trembling hand.

It's his cloak.

Tearing your eyes away from it, you look down the rest of the beach, dropping the fabric as you follow a scattered trail of belongings. You pass by his balaclava which has been covered in sand.

The wind beats against you, pushing your hair back as you fight for your breath. There are pieces of him covering the beach, just as Serelia's scales covered the floor in the room of that dingy little cabin.

All hope is crushed as, right beside the water you spy a small chunk of bone sitting in the sand. You don't wait as you rush towards the water, spying the shape of his skull mask sitting right before the mercy of the water.

It's as though you're in a nightmare you cannot wake from.

You can't breathe.

As the realisation hits you and the skull mask sitting on the shore stares back at you, you fall to your knees, your wide as you look out at the murky sea, falling onto your stomach at your fingertips ghost the skull sitting against the shore.

A jagged breath escapes you as you pull your hand away, unable to catch your breath as you fall backwards onto you bottom, hands pressed against the sand. Rushed steps appear behind you, though you don't budge, nor do you flinch as a firm hand is placed on your shoulder.

Johnny appears in front of you, his mouths muffled as a tear slips from your twitching eye, staring out into the water all to see Raithe staring at you in the distance, a wicked from forming on her face as she pulls a skull mask from out of the water, holding it up by the silk string he used to tie it around his head with.

Your eyes fall back to the skull sitting on the surface, you breathing quickening at you turn your head to the side, heaving as a cold numbness floods your sense. Your tremble as you force out a sob, your throat tightening.

The skull meters away from you is not his mask.

It's him.

𝙼𝚊𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚝

TAGS: (If you would like to be added to the tag list let me know!) @forever-twenty-two-years-old @phantomreadsandreblogs @iizx7y

#call of duty #cod #ghost x you #simon ghost riley #simon ghost x reader #simon riley #simon riley x you #mw2 #cod mw2 #cod au #task force 141 #cod mwii #ghost simon riley #ghost cod #ghost x reader #ghost x reader smut #ghost x reader angst #simon riley smut #simon riley x reader #simon riley x y/n #ghost call of duty #simon ghost riley x you #simon ghost x you #simon ghost smut #simon ghost riley x reader #siren au #alternate universe #manicrouge

[heartsandhischier]

Face-Off with Reality

andrei svechnikov x female!reader

summary - 1.6k words. Faced with a jeopardised reputation, Andrei is forced into a fake relationship in hopes of restoring his public image

author's note - had this in my notes for a long time, now that i've finally made a blog I can post it. it is part of a series so look out!!

warnings - mentions of alcohol, swearing

The sunlight was relentless, a harshreminder of the world beyond his current misery. Andrei squinted hard, rolling over to escape the invasive beams, only to be greeted by a throbbing headache – a cruel memento from the night before. His mind was a whirlpool of fragmented memories, each recollection a testament to the poor decisions made under the influence of far too many drinks.

What the fuck did I do yesterday?

The question echoed in his pounding head, accompanied by a creeping anxiety that seemed to tighten its grip with each passing second. The sudden, familiar ring of his phone made him jolt, an unwanted intrusion into his attempt to piece together the remnants of last night. With a heavy arm, he reached out, his fingers fumbling for the device. Squinting against the brightness of the screen, he saw the caller ID. It was his manager.

Fuck fuck fuck

Lifting himself with effort, he tried to clear his throat, desperate to sound more put together than he felt. “Hey, Carson. What’s up?” he managed, his voice betraying him with a croak.

There was a pause, then Carson’s voice came through, laced with a professionalism that did little to mask his underlying frustration. “Good morning, Andrei. You had quite a night, didn’t you?” the condescension was palpable, even through the phone.

Andrei winced, the reality of his situation beginning to sink in. “I… uh, it seems so,” he admitted, his mind racing to recall what had happened. 

Carson sighed, “Andrei, your antics last night have made their way to the press. It’s not looking good. We need to address this immediately.”

A sinking feeling settled in Andrei’s stomach, the weight of his actions becoming increasingly clear. “What to we do?” he asked, a sense of desperation creeping into his tone.

“We’re scheduling a PR meeting first thing tomorrow morning. We’ll discuss your options and strategise on how to mitigate this. Damage control is our top priority now,” Carson explained, his tone shifting to one of calculated calmness.

Andrei nodded to himself, “I understand. I’ll be there. Carson. I… I’m sorry for the trouble.”

Carson paused again, this time the silence speaking volumes. “We’ll fix this, Andrei. But I need you to be fully on board. This isnt just about apologising; its about showing that you’re taking steps to change.”

“Understood,” Andrei replied. As he hung up, the reality of his situation settled heavily upon him. 

-

Andrei’s heart pounded with a mixture of anxiety and reluctance as he took a deep, steadying breath, adjusting his shirt in an attempt to appear more composed than he felt. The meeting room loomed ahead, a threshold to a discussion that would undoubtedly shape the immediate future of his public life. Pushing the door open, he was met with an unexpected sight.

Carson, his manager, was not alone. Accompanying him were two individuals, one was a man clad in a sharp suit, exuding an aura of professionalism that was almost intimidating. The other – a face Andrei recognised instantly despise never having met her personally. Y/N, the renowned country singer from North Caroline, whose songs had become anthems in their own right. She was the embodiment of southern charm, dressed in a floral sundress that danced around her knees, cowboy boots tapping softly on the floor, her hair styled perfectly to frame her face. Her image was pristine, unblemished by scandal, a stark contrast to the storm currently surrounding Andrei. 

Approachingthem, Andrei managed a polite facade, extending handshakes to the unfamiliar man and then to Y/N. Her handshake was gentle, her skin soft against his, her gaze warm yet tinged with a discernible edge of condescension. 

Taking a seat next to Carson, Andrei braced himself for what was to come.

“We’ve come to a conclusion,” Carson began, his eyes shifting between Andrei and Y/N. the room felt charged with an unspoken tension as he laid out the terms of carefully constructed narrative – a fake relationship designed to salvage Andrei’s faltering public image by associating it with Y/N’s positively radiant one. It was a plan born out of desperation, a strategy neither Andrei nor Y/N seemed particularly enthused about.

The details of the arrangement were laid out with clinical precision, each clause and condition designed to weave a believable story of romance blossoming between the troubled hockey player and the beloved country singer. Andrei felt a knot form in his stomach, a mix of regret and reluctance. Glancing at Y/N, he saw a similar sentiment reflected in her eyes—this was a partnership neither of them had wanted.

As the meeting concluded, Y/N's frustration was palpable. She rose swiftly, her movements brisk and determined as she made her way out of the room. Andrei, sensing the delicacy of the moment, hastened after her, catching up just in time.

"Y/N, wait," he called out, his voice carrying a hint of desperation. "We should... we should talk about this. Arrange that meeting our agents suggested."

She paused, turning to face him with a look that managed to be both resigned and defiant. "Fine," she conceded, her voice steady but cool. "My apartment, tomorrow evening. Don't be late."

And then she was gone, leaving Andrei in the quiet aftermath, pondering the surreal turn his life had taken. This arrangement, while distasteful, was his path to redemption, and it hinged entirely on the cooperation between two virtual strangers. Tomorrow evening would mark the beginning of a challenging charade, one that required all the fortitude he could muster.

-

The hockey player, despite his reservations, found himself standing before Y/N’s apartment the next evening. A modest yet chic dwelling in one of the city’s more understated upscale neighborhoods.

He knocked, the sound echoing in the silent hallway, a reminder of the awkwardness that awaited. The door swung open, revealing Y/N, her expression mirroring the reluctance he felt. She was dressed in comfortable ruffled shorts paired with a simple singlet, her feet enveloped in a cozy pair of slippers. She stepped aside, granting him entry without a word, their mutual reticence hanging in the air. 

As he stepped inside, his gaze swept over her living space, a reflection of her personality in ways he hadn’t anticipated. The open-plan layout was bathed in natural light, the walls adorned with abstract art and vintage concert posters, each piece seemingly chosen with care. A plush couch invited stood in the middle of the space, facing a bookshelf laden with a diverse collection of literature, the titles offering a glimpse into her interests and perhaps, her soul.

The space was lived in, personal items and trinkets scattered in a manner that suggested comfort and authenticity. It was a stark contract to his own minimalist, almost sterile apartment. 

Y/N motioned towards the sitting area, “Might as well get this over with,” she said, her voice carried a blend of resignatio and a trace of defiance.

Andrei nodded, as he settled onto the couch she offered him a cup of tea which he accepted. A small gesture of hopsitality in the otherwise charged atmosphere. She returned to the seating area, cups in hand, placing one of them on the coffee table in front of Andrei. She sat down at the other end of the couch, maintaining a physical gap that mirrored the emotional distance between them. 

It was he who broke the silence, his voice hesitant but compelled by the unexpected realisation that perhaps, beneath the resentment, there was a person worth knowing. “Your place… it says a lot about you,” he started, unsure of where he was going with this.

Y/N raised an eyebrow, her initial defensiveness softening into intrigue. “And what does it say exactly? She inquired, her tone laced with both challenge and curiosity. 

“That you’re more than the image the media paints of you. There’s depth, interests… life beyond the headlines,” he admitted, his own surprise at the words coming out of his mouth.

Her reaction was a pause, a moment of contemplation as she stirred her tea, the soft clinking of the spoon against the cup a punctuation in their dialogue. “Let’s be clear,” she started, her voice firm yet not unkind, “It’s your image that’s in dire need of repair, not mine. I’m here because I was told this could somehow benefit us both. But make no mistake, we’re not friends, this is strictly professional.”

Her words, though spoken with a certain diplomatic coldness, stung with the truth. andrei  felt a twinge of annoyance prick at his pride, the implication that he was the sole cause of their shared inconvenience. “So, what? You’re just here to play the gracious benefactor in this little scheme?” he retorted, his tone edged with irritation. “Don’t act like you’re doing me a favor.”

Y/N's response was measured, but her patience was visibly thinning. "I'm not claiming to be a saint, Andrei. But let's not pretend that our situations are equivalent. I'm here, yes, but it's your actions, your choices that led us here. So, if this is going to work, if we're going to sell this lie, you need to step up. I won't have my reputation tarnished because you can't keep your end of the bargain."

Their shared gaze was a battleground, devoid of warmth, brimming with mutual resentment. The tension, already thick, was momentarily disrupted by the simultaneous pings of their phones. They reached for their devices in unison, reading the text about their first public appearance together at the Carolina Hurricanes’ first playoff game – an event neither was particularly enthused about.

Y/N’s sighed, “Great, now I have to pretend to enjoy hours of a sport I know nothing about.”

#andrei svechnikov #andrei svechnikov x reader #andrei svechnikov imagine #andrei svechnikov fic #andrei svechnikov fanfiction #carolina hurricanes fanfic #carolina hurricanes fanfiction #andrei svechnikov x y/n #canes fanfic #canes fanfiction #nhl fanfiction #nhl fanfic #hockey fic #hockey fanfic

[sohnric]

MAGNETISM — B. JACOB

pairing: jacob bae x gn! reader

genre: fluff

word count: 500

warnings: none!

a/n: haven't posted something so short in a while wow. have this as i struggle to finish my longer wips ahaha

Blue light shines over his face as he lays in the bed with his phone in his hand. Headphones are slotted in his ears as he listens to his music on low volume, the flashes of the game he’s been playing announcing to him that he won the round with the outstanding lead on everyone, making a childlike sense of pride swell in his chest.

An arm sneaks around his middle at that, his head turning and eyes squinting at your face in a worry that he somehow managed to wake you up from your slumber. Darkness envelops the room, given the late hours of the night, but he manages to make out the shapes of your closed eyes, your long eyelashes crowning the tips of your full cheeks. 

The contact of you pulling him closer to you makes the pride in his chest bloom bigger, a gentle smile battling its way onto his lips. Jacob locks his phone and puts it on the mattress next to him, the rest of the room falling into a complete darkness that is only fought away by the soft beam of moonlight coming from the window on the side of his room. His eyes can’t help but stay glued to your figure, studying your sleeping face. 

He would like to imprint the image of your face just like this, lying peacefully next to him, into his memory forever. There’s nothing special about it, in the mundane nature of it all, but something about the way he feels particularly fond of you, insides laced with softness he only has reserved for you and you only, makes him put more significance to the late hours of the day. You came into his life slowly, creeping your way in, as naturally as the seasons change– without him noticing at first, but making him gape wordlessly at the difference in temperatures when he looks back a few months later.

It’s like you put the sun into his sky, turning his days into a constant golden hour. He can’t help but worship your ability to chase away the thunders and the clouds, he can’t help but think of you every morning and every night, treasuring your sheer existence in his chest more than anything in the world.

A gentle hand is placed onto your back, fingertips oozing with magical magnetism when he holds you in his arms. It’s like you two were made for each other, attached with invisible strings, only waiting to be pulled together in the tumbles and turns of your lifetimes. 

Jacob hopes he finds you in every universe. The words feel grandiose in his brain, too much weight put on a simple feeling, but the more he thinks about it, although admitting it’s foolish and romantic, the more he thinks it’s right.

Paying you one last look before he decides to doze off, a flickering thought passes through his brain. I think I’m falling in love, his brain waves hum, and for a split second, the sentiment sounds almost unrealistic, just the tiniest bit strange on his tongue.

Still, when he looks at you again, soft flesh all his against his chest, he knows it’s true. Life didn’t stop when he fell, but he certainly thinks he was reborn the day you picked him up to his feet. He falls asleep with the words ‘love, love, love’ chanting in his brain, wishing that the frequencies you operate on match– hoping that you get the memo; even in your dreams.

#deoboyznet #the boyz x reader #jacob bae x reader #bae joonyoung x reader #the boyz scenarios #the boyz fluff #the boyz fanfic #the boyz imagines #jacob bae fluff #jacob bae imagines #jacob bae scenarios #the boyz oneshots #jacob bae oneshot #bae joonyoung oneshot

[romanoffsbish]

How to Mend What’s Broken

Natasha Romanoff x Fem!Reader

Prompt

"I feel your absence in everything that I do alone, in every place I go without you."

Warnings: Angst; Breakup, Jealous Nat.

This is the first of many ghost posts, I’m queuing up my requested blurbs/fics as I finish them, but I won’t really be here.

She'd thought you were bluffing, that this year long mission would be like any of the others, and that when she came home with flowers and chocolates that you'd just happily embrace her. That wasn't the case though, she came back to find you'd not only moved out of your shared apartment, but that you apparently moved on. Hearing it through her family, the one you now shared after half a decade together was hard, but actually seeing it was truly devastating.

—————-

—————-

"Nat, if you go on the mission, then I'm gone.," the words replay in her fractured mind, on a continuous loop as she's forced to watch you dancing with another at Tony's New Year's party—it wasn't right, she felt nauseous seeing the way her hands sat on your hips, pulling you in for a kiss, and the worst part being the way you beamed back at her, pushing her fallen hair behind her ear, the same way you did hers.

Natasha could feel the bile rising up her throat, she couldn't stomach the sight of you two so happy together. Shifting on her feet she faced the bar again, chasing the obnoxious burning in her throat down with a different kind. She could hear you giggle from across the room, and in turn the next shot was thrown back. Every time she saw her hands on you flash in her mind another shot was taken, her high tolerance aside, the woman smelled like a distillery, and truly needed to be stopped.

"Sestra, slow down.," Yelena hissed, yanking the shot glass from her sister's hand, sending her a warning glare as she tried to grab it back., "Natasha, you made your choice, live with it.," The redheads shoulders deflated instantly at her words, because they were the ugly truth.

Months—you gave her so many of them to get it together, to finally put you first for once, but she continuously failed to do so, leaving you behind for those fleeting rushes of adrenaline, but that high she so desperately craved wasn't the same when she didn't have your arms to crash into after she finally returned home.

No, instead of welcome home cuddles, and whispers of 'I love you' between steamy kisses she's met with cold sheets, and nightmares. The kind that shows her how bleak her future is going to be without the love you two had fostered, she shakes her head as the aforementioned images began to flood her inebriated mind again., "It wasn't worth it."

Yelena clapped her sister on the shoulder, a smile riddled with pity sent her way., "Da, tupitsa, nakonets ty ponyal, teper' ispravlyay.," the redhead glared at her unbothered sister., "Good luck Natasha, you better succeed. I want my future sister in law back like yesterday."

(Yes dumbass, finally you understand, now fix it.)

Natasha didn't know how, or when, but she knew she'd get you back, because in the grand scheme of it all, you're definitely her soulmate. Part of her wondered if tonight might be the time, since she could feel your intense stare from a mile away, her heart even fluttered a bit at the premature hope it was filling up with.

It wasn't fair to your girlfriend, Clara, but you couldn't remove your gaze from your first love. The clueless girl was clinging to you, her head laying over your chest, and you hoped she didn't hear the skip in your heartbeat every time you got to see the other woman's face.

Natasha looked stunning in the black dress that clung to her every curve, the swell of her breasts visible to the naked eye due to the surprisingly low cut of the fabric. Part of you wondered if she did it on purpose, she had to have known you'd RSVP'd to the party, and as exciting as it is to know it might've been for you, you know she's no longer yours to gawk at.

Still, your eyes managed to linger on her all throughout the night, wandering her body in its entirety. Eventually catching the necklace that you got her for your second anniversary. Your fingers ghosted over the imprint of yours through your dress, causing your heart to ache, and for you to run off the dance floor as if you were Cinderella herself and the dreaded clock was about to strike midnight—which it was.

Natasha watched you run off the floor and onto the balcony, your hand clutching at your chest, and the other covering your mouth. To most you looked like you were going to be sick, but she knew you were trying to hold back the tears to keep your tough front up. She wasted no time running after you either, the door had barely shut before she was bursting through it, and catching the way your body shook with sobs, an ache consumed her as she watched all the pain she'd caused you come flooding right on out of you. It was painfully humbling...

"Natasha...," you went to tell her to leave, even if that's the opposite of what you wanted, you knew you needed her to go, because just one smile would be enough for you to crumble, and you didn't want that again. To be putty in her deceitful little hands, the ones that loved you so well on the sparingly good days, and left you craving so much more on the bulk of the rest., "I need you to...," the redhead however had other plans, ignoring you, and desperately blurting out a truth of her very own.

"I feel your absence in everything that I do alone, in every place I go without you.," her voice was not but a whisper as she moved to cage your trembling body in between hers, and the balconies metal rail., "I love you so much Y/N—my precious little dove."

"Natasha, please.," your hands gripped the rail even tighter as you pleaded for her to stop, to walk away like she always does; to let you go., "Tell me to stop, to go," she pressed her lips to the nape of your neck., "I- I can't.," a tear left your eye as you shamefully crumbled at the simplest of affections. How could you not? Natasha's touch had the power to set your body alight with need, no one else could compare, and deep down you were content with that.

Without giving you room to slip away she was able to turn you to face her, a soft smile on her face., "But God, Nat, I desperately want to.," you shakily admitted, causing her face to fall., "because I deserve so much better.," though your voice cracked, the conviction in your eyes was strong, and a ghost of a smirk befell her face as she filled with pride at seeing you fight for yourself so very well., "I'll do better!"

She could see you already registered her words as empty., "Fuck, detka please, I'll do anything you want or need if it means you'll just be mine again.," your brows furrowed at the sight of her being so vulnerable, it wasn't foreign for her to be like this with you, but this public display of it by her surely was. It honestly made you more willing to listen, and maybe take her seriously.

"I-I can't sleep another night without you Y/N, that damn apartment could never be a home without your laughter filling it, and my heart.," she paused, frantically grabbing at your hand so that you could feel the organ's steady thumping beneath your fingertips., "It will never be whole again without yours beating beside it, do you feel that? How hard it's beating against my ribcage? That's all you. Without you it's forever been out of sync."

Silence followed up the Russian's monologue. It consumed the air around the both of you, but it wasn't suffocating, the party was thankfully silenced by the compound's thick panes of glass, and the streets below were just quiet. The world continued to fade away as you stared into her gorgeous, viridescent eyes, and felt her heart beating in sync with your very own. If not for Natasha leaning in you're certain you could've been lost in her gaze for an eternity.

Natasha bit back a sob as the hand on her chest lightly pushed her back, fear of your incoming rejection rising steadily, but then she watched you smile as your hand slid over to the charm. A golden chain with her trademark spider dangling from it, your initials engraved in the bottom of the piece, and the color of your eyes matched the color of the jewel adorning it., "You kept it?," she frowned immediately., "I'd never dream of taking it off, it's a part of me as much as you are Y/N; a testament to our love."

To prove her point she gently tugged on your own chain, pulling the nearly identical charm from where it was hidden beneath your clothes. She smirked at your nervous fiddling while also admiring the piece that mirrored hers, the gem was an emerald, and her thumb ran over the markings that were her own on the bottom., “You kept it?,” she teasingly threw your words back at you causing you to pout., “Well yeah, it was really expensive.,” you groaned playfully, but she saw the way you clutched onto it as she dropped it, safely returning it to beneath your clothing., “Plus, it was all I had left of you.”

“Y/N, you have all of me.,” her thumb lovingly stroked over the apple of your cheek, you melted into the affection with so much ease that the former assassin nearly broke down. You’ve always put your unwavering faith in her, and that’s one of the many reasons she fell for you—hard and fast. The Avengers title, and culmination of her past meant nothing to you. To you she was Natty, with the strong arms, hot smirk, with horrible cooking abilities, and to her you were the definition of everything. Your soft voice pulled her out of her reverie., “Are your sure Nat? Because I can’t go back to being your second choice, I won’t do it.”

“You never were Y/N/N.,” she quietly admits, and before she could try to kiss you again you moved to whisper in her ear., “I’m no cheat Natalia, give me a few minutes, maybe let the Winter chill calm the ants in your pants, hm?,” she rolled her eyes, then smirked as you stared back at her skeptically., “Ants aren’t all I have in these pants by the way.,” she winked, then cackled as you subtly flipped her off before venturing off to find your unfortunate date.

Natasha watched over the city of New York, every second you were gone a spike of panic shot through her. What if the woman isn’t all that understanding? What if she hurts you? Before her mind could make her travel to rescue you the door slid open, she turned on instinct, but also she was feeling a bit hopeful., “Catch me!,” you squealed, running full force at the slightly sobered redhead, she mirrors your excitement as she spins you around though, then she tries to kiss you again in the thrill of the moment, but your finger slips in between your lips and she groans., “What is it now?”

“The countdown.,” you huffed, and she listened closely to hear all the shouting from indoors., “10,9,8…,” she tapped your dangling legs, and you got the message to wrap them around her., “3,2,1… Happy New Year!!!,” your cheers were abruptly brought to a close as Natasha’s lips met yours in a needy way, but you certainly weren’t going to complain, especially not when your ability to have done so was sullied by the tongue that was pretty much down your throat.

The kiss was messy, it’d been 387 days since she’d last been able to kiss you like this, and if you were aware at all you’d better be preparing for a long night, her roaming hands a sign that she isn’t planning on stopping anytime soon. Not that you’d want her to, your body was a squirming mess beneath hers as she’d laid you on a lounging chair, then quickly mounted you. Her lungs burned, but it wasn’t until you had tapped at her shoulder that she retracted with a displeased growl, reluctantly allowing you to breathe while she admired the dishevelment.

“To new beginnings.,” she whispered against your lips with a smirk as you panted wildly. Your eyes squinted as her bright phone screen was brought up to your face, the words slowly coming together as your cognition returned with each gasp of oxygen you inhaled., “Nat?,” your lip wobbled as you read it, and she leaned down to kiss you again, but far more tenderly like your quivering voice told her you needed., “Effective immediately detka; I’m all yours.,”

“No more missions?,” you sought out clarity with a bright smile and nervous stomach, and your beautiful woman beamed down to you, nodding her head while cupping your cheeks. The soft look she gave you warmed your heart, but you were a bit more focused on the way your entire body warmed at her great news., “Please, take me home Natasha.,” her eyes widened when your breathy plea came out, surveying your eyes she could see the lust at the forefront, so she scooped you up, and ran., “Whatever my detka wants, she fucking gets.”

——————————

2,264 Words.

❤️🤖

(Image source)

#natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff imagine #natasha romanoff fluff #natasha romanoff angst #natasha romanoff oneshot #natasha romanoff pov #natasha x reader #natasha x y/n #natasha x you #natasha x fem!reader #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff x female reader #natasha romanoff x you #natasha romanoff x y/n #natasharomanoffpov #gxg #black widow #black widow angst #black widow fluff

[specialbluehens]

mother hen

based on this post i made about shane being an older sibling figure to the younger bachelors & bachelorettes. he's the disgruntled mom friend.

1. sam

Shane slumps into a chair and takes off that dreadful cap as he begins his legally designated 15 minute break at work. He knows if it weren't for the literal law that he wouldn't be given a break at all, especially with Morris stressing about customers that never show up. It's the same two or three people from town every day. Morris isn't going to get that through his thick skull, though. Shane sighs as rubs his eyes roughly with his palms, trying to fend off his exhaustion and mild hangover.

He's getting better. He hasn't cut himself off completely, but he's getting better. He can remember his nights now instead of select moments and then blurry images and distant noises. Shane sighs. He has a therapy appointment in a couple of days. He isn't enjoying therapy but it is starting to give him relief in a way he's never felt before. It's better. It's better, he reassures himself, despite the pressure in his chest yelling at him that he's a failure for not going cold turkey.

Shane slouches further down in the chair and tips his head so it rests on the back of the chair. These cushioned armchairs, as cheap and small and obnoxiously colored blue as they are, are the best things JojaMart has ever gotten. He shuts his eyes and listens to the sound of absolutely nothing in the break room. He's saved from the terrible repetitive pop music playlist on the floor. It's just him and the whirring of a nearby fan.

Until the door swings open and Sam comes barging in with a giddy smile and something in his hands. He's going to come over and try and show him isn't he?

"Shane!"

Shane groans and covers his face with his cap.

"C'mon! I gotta show you something!"

"No." Shane grumbles from under his cap. "Go away."

"Please?" Sam asks nicely, "I promise you will like it."

Shane grabs his cap and swings it down onto his lap. "What is it?"

Sam holds out a flier and beams. Shane sighs and snatches the paper and takes a look at it. It's an advertisement for a show in Zuzu City.

"Who's 'Goblin Destroyer?'" Shane asks.

"My band!" Sam says excitedly, hopping from foot to foot. "We got a gig! It's a small show but it's still in Zuzu City!"

Shane blinks and nods. "Alright, cool." He looks up at Sam, who's got the biggest hopeful puppy dog eyes he's ever seen. Sam is giving Jas a run for her money. "Uh… good job." He tries to say it and mean it. It's exactly what Sam is looking for, because Sam somehow grins even wider and giddily jumps up and down.

"You totally gotta come!"

Shane purses his lips together. Go to their concert? He can't remember the last time he'd been to a concert, especially given how tickets usually cost more money than he has. Except, Sam and his band can't be expensive. It's their first show and probably at a small concert venue or in a club in Zuzu City, which most of the time is free. He has no reason to not go other than he doesn't know if he wants (or can handle) being in a potential crowd.

But Sam is waiting patiently and quietly. This means a lot to him.

Shane sighs, "Yeah, I can go. I just need the date and time."

"Really?!" Sam nearly shouts. "And everything is on the flier, plus everybody from here who's coming will be on the bus together. Pam agreed to it," He explains.

"Ah," Shane says, reading the flier again and seeing yes, all of the information is there. "Erm, your mom going?"

"Her and Vince are going, yea," Sam sounds less excited but he's still happy. "I'm not sure Mom will like the music too much, she doesn't like it when we practice in the house, but I think my dad would like it."

"Mmm," Shane hums.

"My dad isn't going to be home until next year," Sam says, his demeanor shifting into what Shane can only describe as sullen. "It's been weird, getting ready for it even though it's a whole two seasons away."

Shane isn't sure what to say to that. He never had much of a family growing up, and what little he remembers of his father are more images than true moving memories. Flashes.

"He's been gone since Vince was a toddler," Sam says. "We had just moved to the valley when it happened." Shane knows all of this already, this isn't the first time Sam has told him about it. Sam tends to repeat it a lot.

"I mean, I'm an adult now, y'know?"

"You're an adult?" Shane teases dryly. He smirks as Sam leans over and gives him a light slap on the knee.

"I'm being serious, dude," Sam says, "I just… I'm doing great things and he's not even here. I've been told he didn't have a choice but then there's so many people whose dads are here and weren't shipped off to the war. Did he have no choice?"

"Sam there wasn't a draft, and there hopefully won't be one anytime soon. So no, your father wasn't forced," Shane states matter-of-factly. He didn't plan on continuing further, but Sam's look of defeat…

"But, by 'no choice', probably meant in looking for a job. People who aren't doing well sometimes feel like the military's all they can do and be guaranteed some benefits at the end of it. Why did y'all move to Pelican Town?" Shane asks.

"It was too expensive in Zuzu," Sam says.

"Do you know why I moved to Pelican Town? Why did I move in with my aunt?"

"Because it was too expensive in Zuzu City."

"Right, and that was just me and Jas," Shane says, "Two of us. Y'all are a family of four. I can't imagine how hard it was."

"... Yeah…" Sam murmurs.

"Look, your old man was doing what was best at the time. He's gonna be different when he comes back."

"Yeah, in his letter he said he was different. I found it in my mom's room."

"Don't go snooping in your mom's room," Shane scolds. He clears his throat to switch off the "talking to Jas aka a child" mindset. "All I'm saying is, maybe this," Shane passes back the flier. "This'll be something he can enjoy when he gets back."

"I hope so," Sam says. "I don't know what I'd do if he doesn't like it."

"He'll like it," Shane says, "And even if he doesn't, he'll still be proud. He's your dad. He'd be crazy if he wasn't proud of you."

"You think so? Sometimes I don't even know if my mom is proud of me."

"She's going to be proud of you when she sees you on that stage. I know I'd be."

"... You would?"

"Mhm."

Sam looks at the flier and his face scrunches, deep in thought. Shane checks the clock and sees he's a couple minutes past his break. He sighs and he stands up, stretching his arms up to try, popping his back. Before he can leave, Sam is wrapping his arms tightly around Shane and squeezing.

"Sam?!"

"Thank you," Sam breathes.

Shane awkwardly pats Sam's back. "Er… you're welcome?"

Sam lets go and hurries off out of the breakroom. He probably wasn't even supposed to be back here, let alone for an entire 15 minute break. Shane sighs as he drags his feet to the door.

"That was weird," He murmurs to himself. He ignores the lightness in his chest. It was weird.

As long as the kid's happy though, right?

Shane questions if it was worth it as Morris yells at him for being late coming back from his break. He sees Sam behind Morris, mopping as usual as if he hadn't gone to the breakroom and is the reason Shane is late. Shane sighs again.

He'll take the blame for it this time.

This time, he tells himself, despite it not being the first time.

It probably won't be the last.

#sdv #sdv shane #sdv sam #my writing #sdv fanfic #stardew valley #ramblings #mother hen #hee hee finally finished this #posting here instead of ao3 (for now) bc i don't wanna stare at another #incomplete fic.... #once i have a few of these written i'll transfer them to ao3

[l0mljeonjungkook]

Odd One Out | JJK / KTH / KNJ

⋙ Summary - Being friends-with-benefits with Jungkook was already messy until the universe introduces him as your stepbrother.

Namjoon has your heart in his clutches, and pity he's getting married soon.

And, Taehyung, is just not interested in your sister.

⋙ pairing: Taehyung x reader -? / Namjoon x reader -? / Jungkook x reader -?

⋙ rating: 18+

⋙ genre: fake dating to lovers, childhood bestfriends; fluff, angst, smut (more to come, won't reveal yet... Shhhh🤫)

⋙ warnings: no warnings in the prologue, will be added in future chapters.

⋙ word count: 1.7k+

A/N - I really have forced myself to post this, my sis (pain in the ass) too though, thank you B, for motivating me, and iloveyou. So, I hope you guys enjoy reading this, though it's just a prologue but do set a base for the series. I'd very much appreciate your feedback, it'll motivate me to no extent. Do leave your thoughts. And, thank you, angels, for reading💕

Also, cross-posted on Wattpad and ao3

Masterlist | series masterlist

PROLOGUE

Instagram, scrolling through it makes you cringe. The worst app, a zone for the nerds posting pictures or say it vaunting their spotless, seemliest, apt snippets exclusive of their messy life behind the camera. That’s what every walking moneybag, tycoon, and trouper does on this shitty app.

It’s one of the reasons you hate this app.

Right now, you ain’t scrolling for any baron or trouper or any love birds from your friends' group to pop on your screen. Clicking on this app seconds ago once your dad and mum left your room, intending to search for the one your father happily informed you, his exact words - “Well, I’m sure kid you’ll like him”, he was beaming, and studying his face, this one might be the one, he seems in no doubt.

And, that beam on his face makes you want to search --- Will Carter, you’re sure, you heard that name before yet can’t recall.

Your stepdad made an arrangement or just call it a blind date for you to meet this person, just another silk-stocking of New York City.

Apparently, it’s Saturday evening, and you’re so in for meeting new guys for the sake of your heart. If anything, you want to think about the one who will love you back one-sided love is shriveling your heart into a raisin. Only love can swell it back which has evaporated from it or say you've poured it on the one who never needed yours.

Whys and Wherefores, about clicking on the app with the end to gain some deets about Will Carter. Your date. Because this Instagram is good for nothing but stats about the one who posts their flashy life on here.

That's how you're left, bottoms up, zero drop left. For the sake of your shrinking to-raisin heart, you want to move out of the barricade you kept yourself into.

If that means, taking a step and meeting the silk stockings of New York City, you're ready with a pure vibranium shield like the one Captain America holds. However, with a slight change, no star but a heart in the center. 

And before you get a chance to search deets on, your date tomorrow, on the app, with zero intentions, zip anticipation, and no image of the two men in your head, the picture popped on your phone’s screen makes your eyes shine but that shine fades seeing his love by him.

Posted three minutes ago it’s written below... the caption says - She said YES!

Now, coin it as the second reason to hate this app.

Okay, so thing is, USA’s most eligible bachelors, majestically statuesque with hearts brimming with goodwill, shockingly - befall upon you to be the most treasured men in your life. It’s stimulatingly the most unbelievable truth of your life.

The Foxy Holy Trinity is what your heart screams upon seeing them together.

The first one, Kim Namjoon, whose girlfriend said YES, minutes ago. So, nothing is arduously uneasy for you when it comes to him, merely thinking about him pumps your frozen blood into sweltering, circulating to every corner of your body. The man you yearn for and envy his girlfriend for being by him every time you eye the two. Whether on news articles or social media each time you log in to your account, it's not uncommon for their picture to pop up.

Not only he’s the CEO of the KIMS Group, one of the globe’s largest companies in the video game industry but also he’s the Romeo of your life. It’s not only you who envy his girlfriend of six years, there are uncountable single women out there wishing to spend a mere night with him well some drool over his money. However, that’s not the case for you. Neither his money nor his body is what you drool over, lets's just tag the latter one on you, howbeit never for just a night.

It’s a bit late for him to propose to her when you thought he might have done that. This also means you had time to go on your knees for this man with a platinum ring and propose to him.

Shame you’re late.

Shame, there’s no one like him.

Shame, even if there is, he ain’t your Romeo.

The picture your eyes are flukily glued on, is a picture of him, his girlfriend Heejin - now fiance, and your childhood best friend. Namjoon, on his knees holding her hand, pressing a kiss to her knuckles with so much content in his twinkling brown eyes and smile touching them. Heejin looks happier than ever you’ve seen her. And, why won’t she?

You didn’t know you were crying until a tear streaks silently down your cheeks, blurring your vision, you quickly wipe it off. But a smile swipes on your face, wiping away the ache of your heart upon seeing your best friend, Kim Taehyung. He looks high under the starry sky on the cruise, wearing a champagne tuxedo, holding a flute of champagne in the air, between his fingers while staring at the couple, broadly grinning.

The second - Kim Taehyung, the man with an angelic face who has been cherished by you, to no extent among the three men in your life, is your childhood best friend. Also, brother of the former man, the love of your life. He’s been with you in all those darkest rooms when you gave up on yourself when you were left alone like a doormat yet he picked you up, hugged you wiped off your tears until his shirt soaked in tears until you left with zero, cleansed your brain once flooded with agony and fed you with affection until one day his dream came between you two. In situations where you zipped your lips from letting out stuff even to your mother and sister, it was him who stayed by you.

Everything was glittery until the enormously thick granite wall of his dream stood between your friendship. Following his dream is something that was meant to be.

Sanely, still pointing imaginary daggers to the picture, you notice the cruise isn’t the one, Taehyung gave you a surprise birthday party on, it’s junior you reckon. Also, the smile on his face isn’t the same as your birthday, he was practically glowing that day.

Not only your heart but your uterus too, contracting awfully right now. Perhaps you’re PMSing randomly crying your heart out, you reckon. “Shit not tomorrow. Shit shit, how did it slip,” you twist for the drawer beside your bed, yank it open pulling out the norethisterone bottle, you’re pretty sure and it’s even written in bold to take one but you pop out four, eyes on the screen and swallow them without water. It pokes inside your throat but you’re blind in love, eyes fixed on him. 

Seems unfair to you, you’re currently clenching your fist, so terribly in pain, granted you’re alone and them - enjoying the night on cruise. You wish to be there, Taehyung invited you but you denied it, as a rule. It’s how you mechanically work, to keep yourself sane. On the flip side, regretting in the eleventh hour, and the next stop for you - to loathe yourself all over again for always choosing options that make you kick your guts out of the universe.

But that’s not your fault, declaring yourself guilty can’t be the third stair.

Wishing that you might have said yes, but you’d have to miss the date tomorrow and above all seeing them together would’ve only broken you to bits of a bit, and you’re not never up for that. 

After that dream proposal, you don’t know how to react, but one thing’s for sure beyond a doubt - being happy isn’t on the list. However, faking that is the first bullet. Pretending is left.

You feel, might throw up, trying to find patience when impenetrable thoughts congest your mind. Locking your phone, you hurl it off as far from your sight to the end of your bed, looking at how slackly you are at present, in such an awful ache you won’t bend to hoist it up.

Your teary eyes forcing your brain to erase the memory of the past few minutes, tend to search for something around your enormous room only to show you something for which you wish nothing but a Ctrl+D for piles of unfortunate memories that you no longer ought to warm. Because at that very moment, your eyes fix on the huge picture on the blank wall, chilling your warm blood, skipping your beats, and choking breaths. You never hide the distaste that gets mixed with your blood every time you catch the sight of that picture, and to be honest, it’s just growing.

A picture of your parent's wedding night.

You lie down huffing out a deep sigh, next second you close your eyes, finding him smiling at you, and again a tear courses down your eyes melting away into your hairline, God these mood swings will be the end of me.

The third, once precious but now you change your route upon seeing him, Jeon Jungkook, where will you start about him? Once a friend twisted into a stepbrother by the grace of fate. It's that awfully easier for anyone to understand but to you - it's another dreadfully unpleasant memory marked on the darkest corner of your soul for the rest of your life

Although you're to be blamed for it.

Ache, written gracefully in your story.

It almost dies you, curling your toes and curling your trembling fists at the same time, every time your brain takes you to fly back to the time when there was something more. It gets hard to face, but that’s your reality, now.

So, these men are out of your league, given the reasons.

One is engaged today.

The other one, your best friend, you never saw him in the way your mum wants you to see him, perhaps it’d be impossible for you to even envisage such an irrationally illogical future with him and surely beyond your senses. It will only create awkward situations and complex everything in between.

For the third one, you won’t say much, barely two words popping in the back of your mind, to burn the bridge of imagination - moonshot.

Tomorrow it’s date night, and your period cramps are making you think if you’ll even see the light of day.

#jeon jungkook #kim namjoon fanfic #kim taehyung x reader #taehyung fanfic #bts series #bts jungkook x reader #jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook x reader #kim taehyung x you #bts fluff #bts smut #jungkook angst #jungkook fluff #jungkook fanfic #kim namjoon x reader #namjoon fluff #namjoon angst #Jungkook ff #Taehyung ff #jungkook series #taehyung series #namjoon fanfiction #jungkook scenarios #taehyung smut #jungkook #jungkook smut #namjoon x reader #namjoon smut #Vkook #bts jungkook smut

[vicmillen]

Ok, I'm looking through the folders and found something that, uh, I did not remember writing at all. Jesus, almost spit out my drink reading it.

For context this should be something in response to this post I made, although the post is made after I wrote that? This might be the first ever entry about LU I have, in fact. How the hell I forgot about it is beyond me...

Anyway, here's the... short scene, I guess. Please forgive the unfinished battle sequence, I'm still not sure how to do that fight scene.

****

Abruptly, Warriors felt like the Deity's scrutiny lifted from his body like a physical weight, Their attention shifting to the approaching champion. No, no. Why is Wild going against his order? Dread curls in the captain's chest, Why isn't he keeping away!

The Deity narrows their eyes at the new comer, and slammed their massive sword into Warrior's shield so suddenly that the captain went flying backwards. Except, what he fears the most did not happen, Wild did not instantly become a red smear on the ground. Instead, the Deity cocks their head, almost curious.

Wild sneaks a worried look at Warriors, then wordlessly stepped in front of him. For a stretched second, not a single sound is heard across the parade grounds, all the heroes watching on with bated breath.

The Deity is the first to break the silence. But what they say next sends all of the heroes into confusion.

"I sense my mark on you. Don my face, Wildling. Show your worth."

The champion hesitated for a moment, then in a familiar flash of blue, a smaller Fierce Deity stands in his place. Gasps is heard all around, but the Deity doesn't seems to notice them anymore.

"And my sword."

A pause, then another flash of blue, that iconic two toned blade appeared in the champion's hands. Two identical Fierce Deities stood face to face, albeit one is much smaller than the other.

Now that the initial shock has died down somewhat, Warriors can see the difference between the two. Not just in their build, but their aura too. That, more than anything, eased his worry a little... Right until the smaller figure charges straight at the Deity.

The heroes let out their second collective gasp,

~~~~

W: sprint attack

FD: side step & slash

W: back flip dodge & flurry rush

FD: side step mid-rush and horizontal slash

W: bolck w/sword & ragdolls

FD: beam attack aiming mid air

W: snap paraglider to halt momentum, then throws his sword into beam

FD: surprised dodge, sword stuck in grond behind FD

W: bullet time with two volleys multishot bomb arrows

FD: brief stun

W: face FD w/ no weapon

FD: forward slam

W: backflip dodge, another stun attempt with bow

FD: stun failed & immediate slash

W: empty hand perfect dodge, moves behind FD

FD: backwards stab

W: step onto blade and kicked off into backflip, bullet time electric shot at FD's chest piece, lands next to thrown sword

FD: turn with half spin slash

W: side step flurry rush, pick up sword

FD: side step the side step, upward slash

W: parry fail, went flying

FD: jump attack

W: blocked mid-air w/ sword, still slammed into ground by FD

~~~~

The dust settles around the two pale figures, then to the shock of everyone, Fierce Deity throws their head back and laughed.

"Very well, seems like there is an end in sight after all." Their voice booms. Then the deity narrowed their eyes at their split image laying beneath them, an unnerving smirk growing on their face. Without warning the Fierce Deity raised his hand and pried off their mask in one swift motion.

Leaving a disoriented Time behind to face the absolute shock of his life.

#lu warriors #lu wild #lu fierce deity #lu time #lu #linked universe #lu chain #sorry time you're too fun to mess with #there's actually some more setting around this #but I'm not very keen in exploring it right now

[loveisonaroll]

Major Confusion, Part 1

A/N: this story originally started in my head with a Zillow posting for a beautiful home in downtown San Antonio…I'm not sure how I feel about this one yet, so let me know what you think.

Summary: A misunderstanding at a party you and Jake host to celebrate the end of tour ends in some heartbreak.

Warning(s): angst, some self-image comments, self-hatred, slight toxic behaviors, panic attack.

Word Count:1780 

---

You were anxious and excited all at once as you pulled the last curler from your hair. Today, you would celebrate the end of Greta Van Fleet’s Dreams of Gold tour at the home you and Jake finally had made your own. When he first suggested buying a home in the city you had based your career, you vehemently resisted. You had always imagined having to eventually give up your job for a new one in Nashville to be with Jake, and you couldn’t see why he would want to give up his favorable location for yours. As resistant as you had been, Jake was more persistent and ultimately won the war when he found the most perfect home for the two of you. 

The home was a large, tudor style structure with just enough modernism to make its old character functional. You and Jake had spent months finding the right furniture and art to bring out the home’s vintage charm, and you refused to host any sort of gathering until it was as close to perfect as you could get. After seeing the home decorated through Facetime calls and pictures exchanged over text, Jake would get to see the home in all its glory for the first time in person, and there was one room that you hadn’t fully disclosed to him what new additions you had made. 

Since the night before, Jake had been strangely absent from your phone screen. His flight had been delayed the day before, so he and his brothers were set to get in a mere couple hours before the party. He usually bombarded your phone with “can’t wait to see you” messages while he was on his way home to you, but you figured he was just too exhausted and ready to be home this time. You were too busy party-prepping to dwell on it, anyways. You wanted everything to be perfect for Jake, his family and his friends. 

You were just sliding on your last shoe when you heard the front door open and muffled conversation. A smile broke out on your face as you bounded down the stairs to greet your rockstar boyfriend and his brothers. You were excited to see Jake after months on tour, and you wore your newest sun dress that accentuated your boobs just right. You had been saving it for him for weeks. 

“Welcome home, baby!” 

Jake turned towards you and gave you a soft smile, kissing your cheek and wrapping his arms loosely around your frame as you tightly embraced him. “Hey babe. House looks great.”

You furrowed your brows at his bland tone as you pulled away, but the doorbell rand before you could question him further. Jake excused himself to answer the door and you turned to his brothers. They had made their way to gather around the kitchen island, grazing at the snacks you had set out. That was strange, you thought. Jake hadn’t even taken a second look at you, let alone comment on how great you looked in your new dress. You shook the thought out of your head and headed to greet the rest of the band. 

“Hey guys, welcome home! Congratulations on a great tour!” you beamed, bouncing around the kitchen giving them each hugs. The lackluster responses you were given confused you, but you assumed they were all just exhausted from tour and the travel delays. 

As you took the coverings off the rest of the food on the island, Jake and a few of his friends trickled into the kitchen. Everyone seemed to have more of a jovial reaction to seeing each other than they did seeing you, and your heart ached. You started to feel more confused, thinking back to any possible thing you had done to make any of them angry with you. The more you thought, the more you were confused. 

“The house looks great, Y/N. I love all the furniture!” Amanda, one of Jake’s friends’ wife said to you. Amanda was nice, but you could never really get a true reading of her. You had been dating Jake for almost four years, and you have known him for years before that. She had become close friends with Jake’s ex-girlfriend, and when he started dating you a few months after their breakup, she was less than subtle about her disappointment. Still, she was always polite. 

“Thanks,” you said just as the doorbell rang again. “I’ll get it this time, baby.”

When you opened the door, you were left confused. Jake’s ex, Hailey was on the other side with a small smile as she stared at you.  

“Oh, umm hi?” you stammered. You were around when Jake started dating Hailey, and you had always enjoyed her company before. However, you hadn’t seen much of her after their breakup, and when you did, it was at events where neither you nor Jake knew she would be in attendance. 

“Hey, Y/N, how are you?” she said, stepping over the threshold. “The house is beautiful from the outside. Jake said you’ve been working hard on the inside.”

You cocked your head slightly to the side in response to her statement. When had she spoken to Jake? He never mentioned inviting Hailey, and you thought he would have run his invitation by you first. As if he had been summoned, Jake appeared by you, wrapping Hailey in a hug before tugging her towards his group of friends. 

To say you were baffled would be a complete understatement. Jake completely ignored you, embraced her tighter than he had you when he first arrived, and tugged her to socialize with his friends right in front of your very eyes. You were frozen in place, desperately trying to comprehend what was happening. You felt like your relationship had vaporized in a matter of seconds. 

When you finally defrosted, you put on a fake smile and tried to socialize a little as more people shuffled into your home. Jake hardly looked your way throughout the party, and his brothers and friends did little more to include you in any conversation. The less anyone talked to you, the more you started to spiral. Why was everyone ignoring you? What had you done to make everyone so angry at you? Why did everyone hate you?

The further down the rabbit hole you got, the more you watched Jake talk with Hailey. He hadn’t been more than 5 feet from her the entire afternoon, and his mood looked instantly lighter from your perspective with her around. Then you started watching her…the way her hair curled perfectly and shone in the sunlight. How much thinner she was than you. How little makeup she needed to wear to look flawless. How effortless it was for her to gain the attention of everyone in the room. How effortless it was for her to steal the attention of Jake. 

Before you could let the tears fall, you made your way to your boyfriend. Maybe now was a good time to steal him away to show him your surprise. 

“Hey Jake,” you smiled and touched his arm. His smile fell as he turned his attention to you, and you ignored the pang in your heart from the action. “I wanted to show you something. I did something to your office—” 

“My office? Seriously?” Jake pulled his arm out of your grasp with a sigh to run his hand through his hair. “I let you decorate the rest of my house, what more did you possibly need to do?” 

You were taken aback by his crassness and took a step away from him. His friends cleared their throats and turned away awkwardly. 

“What?” You said softly, shocked that he had spoken to you in such a way. Jake had never so much as raised his voice at you in the entirety of the time you had known him. Even when the two of you would get into arguments before your relationship, he had always been the reasonable one. 

“Honestly, I just can’t handle…this right now.” Jake waved his hand towards you dismissively before stalking off to rejoin his brothers and their group of friends. 

You didn’t think you could have been more confused and heartbroken. Not only had Jake dismissed you so aggressively, but he had also referred to the place you had spent so much time making your home as his home. Not belonging to the both of you, but to him. 

You quickly hid your face from your guests and made your way up the stairs. When you stepped foot into your shared bedroom, you stood in the middle not knowing what to do next. This wasn’t your home, you thought. Jake had said so himself, this was his home. Nothing here was yours. You were silly to think this would be your forever home. Why had you given up your apartment? Jake had never told you this would be your home forever. In fact, had he even asked you to move in with him? He had given you the go-ahead to decorate the house. He allowed you to decorate the house for him. This wasn’t for you. This wasn’t your home. You would never be home here. 

Your head swarmed with doubts, self-hatred, confusion and anxiety. The tears flowed freely, and your breathing became erratic. You truly had nowhere to go in the house, it wasn’t yours. You didn’t feel welcome or safe. You wracked your brain for a place to go, someone who would hold their door open for you, but your friends had moved away after college. You were too embarrassed to face your co-workers. It was too late to drive the four hours it would take to get to your parents home. Finally, you settled on a hotel room. 

You packed a bag and wiped your face. You would come back for the rest of your things, you thought. Then you would try to get your old apartment back and you and Jake could make it work again. It had to be the house, you thought. But what if he didn’t want you at all? What if he invited Hailey because he was pushing you out to bring her back in?

You almost stumbled as you raced down the stairs and towards the door. You only had to hold your breath for a second to get past the doorway to the main room/kitchen before you could make your escape. As you opened the front door and took a breath, you were met with Jake’s sister with her finger on the doorbell. The chime rang out before you could stop her, and Jake rounded the corner seconds later. 

#Jake kiszka #jake kiszka fanfic #Jake kiszka fic #Jake kiszka angst #jake gvf #greta van fleet

[tswaney17]

Daddy's Snowball

This might be the cheesiest of cheesy fluff that it's almost cringeworthy. 😅 My one Christmas fic turned into an AU (honestly, who's even surprised?) so there will be three, possibly four parts to this that I'll be posting throughout the month. This first part, basically Az being a simp for his wife and son. Enjoy, and happy holiday's! 💙

My fanfic account: @tswaney17fics​​​

My ao3 account: tswaney17

Please let me know what you think about this update. I love getting your feedback. Constructive criticism is always welcome. 💕

Trigger warnings: tooth-decaying fluff.

Word Count: 1,820

Azriel had his hands, elbow-deep in the sink as he finished washing the dishes from their breakfast. Elain had made a brioche French toast that was unbelievably delicious—though everything she made was always wonderful.

His wife was currently cleaning the syrupy mess that was their son. By the time he finished eating, Azriel was pretty sure more of the sugar glue had ended up on his face and hands than in his mouth. He smiled to himself at the image.

Sunday was always his favorite day of the week. Because, on Sunday, he, Elain, and Kaden sat down for breakfast and then spent the rest of the day together. Sometimes they planned little day trips. Others, they spent lounging around the house just playing with their son. Kaden had quickly caught on to their Sunday rituals and started voicing his own suggestions for what they should do. Going to the zoo, watching a movie, or spending the afternoon at the park were just a few of his many ideas.  

He was finishing up wiping off the counter when a little hand tugged at his pant leg.

“Daddy,” Kaden looked up at him with those large, pleading eyes that had his heart melting in his chest. “Can we go outside to pway in the snow?”

A smile took over his face. “Of course. But we need to get our snow gear on.” He dropped the towel on the counter and held his hand out for him. “Come on, let’s go get changed.”

Small, tanned fingers grabbed his ring finger and pinky as they walked out of the kitchen and up the stairs to his bedroom. Azriel grabbed all of Kaden’s winter clothing, his snow pants, and a sweater, helping him change. “Your jacket is by the door and so are your boots. I’ll meet you down there.”

“Tank you, daddy!” he called, racing from his bedroom.

Az chuckled, shaking his head at the hyperactivity his son was now displaying from his sugary breakfast. Quickly pulling on his rain pants over his jeans and thick socks, he met Kaden at the back door where Elain was zipping up his jacket.

“Don’t forget your gloves,” she told their son, helping him stuff his hands into snow gloves. “And a hat,” Elain added with a giggle, flopping a blue beanie on top of his rogue curls.

She turned, eyes beaming. “You too,” she said and tugged a beanie over Azriel’s head.

He leaned forward for a quick kiss as their son slid open the door and plunged into the snow. “Can I convince you to join us?”

“Oh, no. It’s much too cold for me. Plus, this is good to spend time with him alone. I’ll make some hot chocolate for you guys and come get you in about an hour.”

Azriel pecked her soft, pink lips again. “You’re too good to me.”

Elain’s fingers slipped into the hair at his nape, holding him there for a few more seconds.

He would’ve stayed rooted to the spot in the open doorway, kissing his fucking amazing, beautiful wife, had a high pitched, “Daddy!” not beckoned him to the frozen wasteland they called their backyard. Elain’s gardens flourished the rest of the year, but very little could thrive in Velaris’s harsh winters.

“Coming, buddy!” he called out, closing the door behind him as he trudged out in the nearly two-foot-deep white blanket that covered their yard.

It was cold enough that Kaden didn’t sink too far in, the underneath layer frozen. But Az’s heavy, muscular body sent his steps nearly to the ground. He snatched his son around the waist, tossing him in the air and catching him under his arms.

Kaden squealed, falling into him as they both landed in the snow, the little one on his chest. The happy giggles coming from his son’s lips were one of his favorite sounds, ones he collected like precious stones to store and take out when he was having a bad day.

“Can you do a snow angel, Kaden?” he asked, lying him down on his back.

Those hazel and green eyes looked up at him in such wonderment. Azriel sometimes forgot how innocent children were until Kaden came into his and Elain’s lives. They were his providers, his caregivers, his everything. It gave him whiplash how much their lives had changed since his adoption.

“Okay,” he started, positioning his limbs. “Be a starfish.” He followed his orders, his limbs forming a spread eagle. “Now slide your arms up and down.”

Kaden’s arms shuffled, pushing the snow around.

“And your legs,” he guided gripping the tip of his boots to direct him into the proper motion. “All right, up we go.” Az grabbed him and hauled him into his arms. “Look at your snow angel, buddy!”

Those eyes widened in child-like astonishment. “Now you, daddy!”

Setting Kaden down on the ground, Azriel flopped back into the snow, swishing his limbs to create his angel right next to his son’s. White powder dusted his dark hair, collected at the collar of his jacket, but he didn’t care. Not when it produced the precious, toothy grin on his son’s face.

“You’re so big,” Kaden stated, pointing at his snow angel once he climbed back to his feet. “Will I get big like you, daddy?”

He ruffled dark hair under his beanie. His soul softened every time Kaden called him that name—it had taken a while for him to grow comfortable with it.

At one point in his life, Azriel believed he’d never be worthy of a wife, of children. And then Elain came along and turned every doubt, every insecurity, into something he fought to concur. His demons, his past, they couldn’t touch him because of her love, her undying affection. He adored her for it.

“One day, you’ll be as big and strong as me,” Az promised, cradling the back of his head, and letting his thumb swoop in his loose curls. He could see it, with Kaden copying a lot of what he did. Elain had probably two hundred photos and videos on her phone, catching him grabbing more meat and veggies after Azriel did, trying to mimic him doing pushups when he worked out at home, sitting at his desk scribbling on paper pretending to work with him, tinkering in his shed with him. It was, undoubtedly, the cutest thing.

Those sweet eyes lit up at his words. A few weeks ago, Kaden announced he wanted to be “just like daddy,” and Azriel would be lying if he said that proclamation had him both puffing up his chest in pride and wanting to sob at the same time. It also had him stepping up his game to be an even better role model for his son.

They rolled around in the snow, tossing handfuls of it up into the air and letting it rain down on them, when he asked, “Kaden, do you want me to show you how to make a snowball?”

“Yes! Show me, daddy!” he cheered, running to plop himself on the ground next to Azriel’s hip.

He grabbed a handful of snow, forming and shaping it into a perfect sphere, explaining to Kaden how to pack it and smooth out the edges. Over his many years of snowball fights with his brothers, he learned quickly how to create the perfect ball.

His son watched him attentively, trying to copy his movements. “Like this, daddy?” he asked, presenting Azriel with a misshapen white blob of snow.

Az had to hold in his chuckle, knowing that as soon as Kaden threw it, the ball would disintegrate in midair. “Very good, buddy. Would you like me to help you make one of daddy’s snowballs?”

He nodded his head enthusiastically.

Digging into the ground, he told him, “First off, you want to get the right kind of snow. The top layer is typically too soft to hold together, so go down a little bit and get some of the firmer snow underneath.” He helped Kaden dig down, collecting a handful of snow in his small, gloved palms.

“Next, we want to pack it together.” Folding his hands over his sons, he helped him tighten the snow into a firm ball. “And then, shape it so it’s round.” He dusted off some of the rougher edges until it was smooth. “And there we go, a perfect snowball.”

Az lifted Kaden to his feet, aiming him for one of the close trees. “Try and hit the trunk.”

He threw the snowball with all his might, the frozen thing missing the tree by a good three feet. Az laughed. “Good try, bud. Here, let’s make more and try it again.”

Sitting on the ground, not caring that his ass was currently frozen, he made snowball after snowball for his son who took every single one in an attempt to hit the tree trunk.

Finally, after thirty balls or so, he did, the bark covered in a splotch of white. “Daddy!” he screamed in delight. “I did it! Did you see?” A little body came crashing into his chest, arms thrown around his neck.

“Awesome job, Kaden!” He hugged him tightly, taking every advantage he got while his son was still young, knowing that when he got older, hugs would become less and less frequent. The realization had him holding Kaden closer.  

The sound of the sliding door opening caught his attention. Glancing over his shoulder, he saw Elain, leaning against the doorframe with a smile gracing her face.

“Boys, come inside before you freeze. I’ve made hot chocolate,” she beckoned.

Azriel rose to his feet, still holding his son against his chest.

“With marshmallows, momma?”

Gods, the smile on Elain’s lips would one day make his heart stop. It was so beautiful, so bright, that it lit up the darkest corners of his troubled past. Made him feel warmth, unlike anything he’d ever experienced.

“Yes, with marshmallows. I’ve already put some in your cocoa.” She leaned up on her tiptoes to kiss Kaden’s reddened cheek and then placed another on his. “Come in before you let all the hot air out.”

He set his son down, halting him when he started to run off to the kitchen. “Boots and jacket off, buddy. We don’t track snow all through momma’s house.”

After stripping him down to appropriate houseware, Kaden took off for the kitchen where yet another sugary concoction was waiting for him. “He’s going to be bouncing off the walls today.”

Elain laughed, looping her arm with his. “Yeah, well, he’s sweet and deserves it.”

Azriel looked down at her in awe. Because he knew she was right. They wanted to spoil their son with love, and he did just that. Sitting down at the table, he clinked his mug with Kaden’s and then Elain’s, thinking just how lucky he was to have this perfect little family.

~~~~~~

Remember, sharing is caring! Please reblog if you liked the fic. It helps spread my work and I truly appreciate it. 💕

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#daddy's snowball #elriel #elain #elain archeron #azriel #azriel shadowsinger #elriel fic #elriel fanfic #elriel fanfiction #tswaney17 #tswaney17fics #tay writes #my writing #acotar #acomaf #acowar #acofas #acosf #elriel au #elain and az #elain and azriel #azriel and elain #elain x azriel #azriel x elain

[frostironfudge]

I Think I Met You In My Dreams Once - Bucky Barnes - Four

Summary: After receiving an honourable discharge from his military service that was caused by the loss of his arm, James Barnes begins to come to terms with several things. He also finds solace in youtube videos, memes and on social media, where he happens to find you.

Pairing: Ex-Military!Bucky Barnes x Fem! Plus Size!Reader (Modern AU)

Chapter Warnings: angst, fluff, phone sex, smut, mutual masturbation, dirty talk, PTSD mentioned, nightmares, active communication between a couple, long distance relationship, timezones, praise kink, size kink if you squint (you won't have to though if you catch my drift)(take me away from this hellsite)

A.N.: posting the chapter early because @thousandnighstwhithmammon convinced me with cute gifs

Word Count: 6212 Dividers: @firefly-graphics

Fic Masterlist || Main Masterlist || AO3 || Fic Playlist

Chapter Three || Chapter Five

Bucky was determined, looking at flowers and chocolates on a website that delivered the same to where you were. He made a face at some of the floral arrangements and the teddy bear in one wasn’t upto mark for his girl. 

My girl. He grinned as he repeated the two words in his mind. Even though you were miles and miles away from him. You were his and he was yours. 

Bucky groans as he looks at the red teddy bear, why can’t it be brown? He needed to find a cute memorabilia that could serve as a comforting reminder of him. In the event you couldn’t speak to each other regularly. Or in the event he pissed you off and the bear could ease your anger. 

Also red teddy bears are just one step away from being possessed. Why did they look so dead inside?

He decides upon just flowers and chocolates for now adding them to cart and putting in your address he sneaked off from Steve who snuck it from Natasha. 

Unbeknownst to him you did the same of sneaking his address of off Natasha who snuck it from Steve. 

The two of them did roll their eyes and had a eight minute back and forth about how you both could just be upfront. But nope, sneaking addresses is what was being done. They allowed it simply because the two of you were like little excited babies and the gleam in both of your eyes was precious. 

While you stared at the websites that has a lot to offer to send your man. You giggle to yourself and blush, my man. You repeat it feeling giddy. Would he appreciate this weird gift set? Also what even was this happiness box?

You shut the entire browser window. You are erasing your browser history. Maybe dousing your eyes in holy water. God the image of the lube and flesh light and dildo was still stuck in your head. 

Extravaganza of Male Happiness. 

The perfect gift for your man.

“You found a sex based website didn’t you?” Natasha laughs at your incredulous expression. 

“Please I’m worried and scarred.” You plead, your only other idea was flowers and the chocolate he had mentioned he really loves. 

“Just go with your first idea.” Nat says, “You want it to reach for the first date right? So you have only today to decide.” 

“First idea is flowers, I think we spoke about it, he’s never gotten flowers and I want to change that.” You admit, opening up the sample arrangements of cat safe flowers that you had shortlisted the previous night. 

“I think he’d like any of these.” She comments opening up her notebook as the professor enters and you put away your phone while retrieving your own notebook. 

Bucky wipes his hand on his jeans, why is this so nerve wracking? He’s spoken to you through the screen several times yet this one pulses his nerves. 

Briefly he wonders if this lunch/dinner date will workout. 

All thoughts go out the window when his laptop screen comes to life with your incoming call. Shakily he accepts after checking his headphones being connected for the fiftieth time. 

“Hi,” 

Bucky grins as your voice greets his ears while the screen loads up. 

“Hi Doll.” He greets, giving you his brightest smile when the screens do load. 

You beam equally bright at him. 

“You look, very very handsome.” You blurt out, then blush, he’s wearing a light blue button down. 

“If you think I look handsome, you should see my date she’s breathtaking.” Bucky grins more as he notices your shyness coming forth. 

“Well you gotta take a deep breath, cause I’m about to show you my outfit.” You say as you stand from the chair fixing the sundress you picked out, it matched his shirt by chance. 

“So its a lunch date?” Bucky grins, admiring you as you stand back, god wireless headphones are a boon. 

“Yes, dinner dates have other outfits. ” You do a small twirl and the hem of the dress moves along with the movement. 

“You look gorgeous, doll. You keep taking my breath away.” He grins and you settle down onto your chair again. 

“Thank you, now your turn, I wanna see what are you wearing.” You clap your hands in excitement and he laughs, standing up and heading to the end of his room.

“Well, this is a blue button down but I’m pretty sure Pantone has a specific name for this shade. I’m wearing beige pants.” He walks closer to the screen doing a supermodel stance with his hand on his hip and your laugh makes him grin with the corner of his eyes getting crinkles. That, that was your favourite smile on him. 

Bucky’s phone chimes and he gets excited. 

“What? Did the application get accepted?” You also get excited for him. 

“Go open your door.” Is all he says, you look back at him confused. 

“Why?”

“Just go open it.” He only smiles, then his door bell rings as does yours. 

Bucky narrows his eyes at you. 

“You should open your door.” You wiggle your brows then laugh. The two of you get up from your chairs in sync and head to the respective doors. 

Bucky is going to cry, he carefully sets down the vase of sunflowers near the door before grabbing the other box the delivery personnel hands to him and he returns to the room holding the vase with ease and the box tucked under his arms. 

You look away from your own flowers and chocolates and gulp, that vase you knew was heavy, and yet Bucky was holding it with ease. 

“Seems like we both had the same idea.” He grins while setting the contents down on his desk. 

“I um, they are safe even if Alpine might try to nip at them, I checked five blogs to confirm. Um, thats not the only reason I picked them, you know how sunflowers turn towards where the sun is?” You pause waiting for Bucky to respond but he only looks at you with an incomprehensible emotion. 

“Did, are you allergic?” Panic laces your voice, “Do you have your epipen?” 

“No, no, I’m not allergic, I, well no one has ever given me flowers. I just, and you even thought of Alpine. Thank you. I love them.” 

You gaze at him softly, the panic evaporating. 

“I’m glad you liked them—,”

“Love them, doll, i love them, thank you. Did, did you like yours?” Bucky shifts running his hand through his hair, nervous. Should he have bought the red teddy?

You pick up your vase and hold it while grinning at him. Bucky takes a screenshot, unable to help himself. 

“I love them, these are Alstroemerias, a type of Lily, right?” You confirm admiring the pink hues across the petals. 

Bucky nods, “Yeah, I um, Peruvian Lily. Is the other name.” Pink ones symbolise friendships turned love but he’s going to not say that. Yet. He thinks it would make you leave the video call in one second. 

“They’re beautiful, James. Thank you. Now you need to hold yours so I have a picture too.” You narrow your eyes at him, catching his sneaky screenshot skill. 

“You caught that?” He scratches the back of his neck, then grabs his vase and you try not to drool at his strength. 

“Take a picture baby, it will last longer.” Bucky smirks as you get flustered, quickly taking your own screenshot. 

He winks at you before setting the flowers back in their place. 

“So, what has the lady ordered for herself?” He rests his chin on his palm. 

“Well, I went with something simple, penne in an Alfredo sauce with chicken. For the appetiser I think I ordered,” You rummage through the bag, “ah yes, Mozzarella cheese sticks, they were out of the other things ooh anddd they gave free garlic bread.” You tease him holding up the free bread. 

Bucky’s jaw drops then he looks absolutely offended, “I had to pay for my bread. But we’re sharing the apps because,” He holds up the take out container housing his own mozzarella cheese sticks. You grin. 

“For main we have lasagna.” He holds up the container, grinning and you can almost smell the melted cheese and herbs. 

“I wish I could steal some through the screen.” You pout. 

“Joey doesn’t share food.” He shakes his head, playfully taking the container away from the screen. 

“I thought you said you’re Chandler.” You accuse him getting offended because you’ve been deemed as Monica by everyone you know and were holding out hope to find your own Chandler. 

“Well I am your Chandler but in matters of food, I can be your Joey.” He grins, you shake your head laughing. His little ‘your’ before the character’s name tugs at your heart. 

“So apps first and we can begin our first date.” He tries to plate them up as nicely as possible. Once he’s done he watches you plate up, you look up at him licking the melted cheese from your finger. You watch as his tongue runs over his bottom lip. Bucky takes a steadying inhale. It’s unfair how you’re so far away. 

He clears his throat, “So um,” 

“You’re a bite behind Barnes.” You chuckle taking a bite of the food and he follows suit. 

“You’re in a very happy banter-y mood, I absolutely am enjoying it.” He comments. 

“Well I am in company of someone who enjoys happy banter-y-ness.” 

“You are yes.”

Much to both of your relief, the first date isn’t all that different to your usual conversations just the topics are lighter. No heavy stuff about family, his time with the military, more so getting to know each other and already talking about the potential second date. 

“Wait, wait, wait.” You hold up both your hands trying to not choke on your food before laughing. 

“You guys visited a farm in grade one,” You repeat. 

“Yes a farm, cute animals cows and all.” He shakes his head at the memory. 

“And you carried chocolate milk, and emptied it into the milk bucket of the brown cow?” You confirm, watching his shoulders shake in delight at the memory of the prank he pulled. 

“Steve lost his mind when he saw the milk.” Bucky’s laugh was warmth embracing you, pulling you in, keeping you next to him. 

“And no one found out? Not even the person in-charge or your teacher?” You ask and he just shakes his head laughing. 

“No one could do anything the principal came in to the class the next day worried, when parents called her up, because every single kid said chocolate milk comes from brown cows.” Bucky’s eyes widen in fear recreating his scared expression then laughing again. 

“Oh my god.” You wipe the tear that is about to escape still giggling as you both try to calm down from the story. 

“Hey you’ve got a little Alfredo…” Bucky points on his own face to direct you. 

“Oh um,” you try to swipe it, not looking at the small picture of you just looking at him for guidance. 

“Other side doll,” Bucky’s hand reaches out then he retracts it when it collides with the screen. 

You both grow quiet. Using the tissue and finally seeing yourself in the small box helps clean up the stray sauce. 

It was safe to say that the biggest con of wanting to long distance date was not being able to do the typical romantic movie things. Or even just hold hands. 

“What do you have for dessert?” You bite your lip, hoping the night/day wasn’t ruined. 

“Tiramisu.” Bucky shoves away the annoying thought of not being able to touch you, he knew what you both were signing up for when the line between friendship and something more was being blurred. 

“Once again we share dessert.” You smile, he does as well. The earlier tension fading away into nothingness. 

As the date slowly moves towards its end, Bucky contemplates asking about the second date or voicing his concern over how would you both manage if this does turn into something more?

“James?” You furrow your brow thinking his frame’s frozen. 

“James?” You tilt your head, as he blinks but doesn’t respond lost in thought. 

He knows if you both try hard enough this will be something beautiful and distance? That could be closed with a flight or visiting when it was feasible for the two of you. 

“Bucky?” You try and he finally looks up. 

“Doll?” He furrows his brows, confusion lacing his voice. 

“You, what is on your mind?” You enquire, sitting up a bit more. 

“Nothing—,”

“Bucky.” You reprimand. 

“I was just—, I don’t want to end the date on a sour note. Forget it, it can be discussed later.” He gives a halfhearted smile. 

“James, for this to work we need to communicate openly.” You remind him, he feels his heart squeeze as your voice grows quiet and worry colours your features. 

“I’m,” He exhales, biding time to find the right words, “I wanted to ask about our second date… I know we both work out the timings and the food and everything but like during dinner I wanted to reach out and your hands twitched to reach out as well. I know what we have is something special and so worth the painful distance but I worry, what if one of us stops trying?” He airs out his concerns. 

“You aren’t putting a sour note on the date let me clear that up for you.” You give him a small smile. 

“It is at the back of my head too. Not able to cup your face, feel your hand intertwined with mine or feed you a bite of my food or steal a bite from yours by way of getting you to feed me. There is quiet a lot we won’t be able to do, but I think we both know each other enough to be honest with one another. It is possible we could stop trying but the other one can fight for the two of us, try and save what we have.” You let him process your words. 

“I don’t want it to come to that, to fight or make the other stay if it’s difficult. I know its just been one date, but do you think you would be willing to take this on for a longer term? I’m not saying it has to go this way, there is a possibility where we both could agree a friendship is better” He hopes it won’t come to the latter, its hardly been three and a half months since he knows you, and one week since you both have decided to step into dating. He doesn’t want to give it up. 

“Okay, lets, lets think about one thing that we can control? Because I feel our what ifs are getting to us deeply.” You advise and his azure eyes are hopeful for something. 

“Okay. What is it?” He drums his finger along his desk. 

“This moment, the present, today, our date, our flowers for each other. Us. Here. Face to face in a way. The distance is a big factor but we have things at our disposal to somewhat take that away.” You say, hoping he understands. 

“If we just consider today then yes, what we have is something worth dealing with the distance. I don’t care about that when I have you.” He gazes at you, blue eyes locked in on yours and he takes your name before saying words that wrap around your heart,

“You’re worth the distance.” He blinks back the tears as his chest feels much lighter at the truth. 

“You’re worth the distance too.” A tear escapes past your eyes and you quickly wipe it away. 

“Look at me, making my date cry.” He chuckles dryly, you give a huff of a laughter. 

“Happy tears.” You look back at him from your hands. 

Reaching out you run a knuckle over his cheek. Bucky tilts his head as if leaning into your touch, making you smile. 

“One day you will do that in person.” He promises. 

“One day you will be able to twirl me.” You promise. 

“And then kiss you.” He adds, much too cheekily.

“Cheeky.” You playfully roll your eyes. 

“You enjoy my cheekiness.” He retorts easing you both into the playful banter before you both say your goodbyes. 

Bucky lays on his bed, eyes on the sunflowers and he can’t wipe the smile off of his face. 

His phone buzzes, he sits up to retrieve it from his desk. 

He reads your message from the notification tab. 

@.watchingthemoonlight:

i had a lovely date, can’t wait for our next one. 

Bucky falls back down onto the bed with an even wider grin on his face. 

“Doll!” Bucky calls out, you hurry back from the kitchen. 

“Coming!” You call out then hiss as your door handle collides into your hip. 

“You okay?” He looks worried, the usual size of his screen smaller since he’s added his phone to the video-call. 

“Yeah that just hurts like a bitch.” You rub the sore spot, today was date number ten, coinciding with a new upload from your collective favourite ghoul boys, which meant you’re awake way past 3 a.m to watch it with Bucky. 

You yawn again and he shakes his head.

“No, don’t you dare.” You warn him. 

“I didn’t say anything!” He raises his hands in defence. 

“Yet.” You look at him in disdain. 

“Okay, yet” he agrees, “We could have watched this at a better hour.”

“And miss this episode? Bucky are you even my boyfriend?” You shake your head. 

“I am concerned about my girlfriend’s wellbeing and sleep pattern. Which I have told her about on several occasions.” He reprimands using his stern voice and if it wasn’t for the moot point his voice would have had you clenching your thighs. 

Bucky smirks catching the slight change in your sleepiness, almost a month since your first date but he had caught onto your subtle reactions to some of his teasing. 

That was another change that happened after several (fifteen very lovely dates and communication with meticulously planned timezone dates making sure all dates alternated between day and night). Bucky had sent flowers on one random Thursday morning with a brown teddy bear having papers tucked in an envelope under the teddy’s arms. 

Page One

@.bbarnes has sent you a message 

Page Two

@.bbarnes:

after fifteen beautiful dates with the gorgeous woman who has only certainly arrived right from my dreams, i want to ask her to be my girlfriend, should i do it?

Page Three

@.bbarnes:

Okay here goes, i’m asking her, god wait shit where is the flower? 

Page Four

A hand drawn Lily with it being painted with the pink hues from the first bouquet he ever gave you. 

Page Five

@.bbarnes:

give me a call please? don’t bother about the time. 

And so you did, it was three-thirty a.m for him. Bucky with sleep hair all half raised on various sides and sleep ridden eyes and a sweet sleepy smile upon seeing you. You melted right there. 

“I see you got my bear.” He smiles as you hold it up for him, “Press his right paw.” 

You set the phone down and press the paw. 

“Y/N, will you be my girlfriend?” The voice box from the bear speaks in Bucky’s voice and you have to hold back tears. 

“Its a one time press only, but I want to ask again, will you be my girlfriend?” He worries his bottom lip, you hug the bear tightly. 

“James, I will be your girlfriend, yes.” You beam at him and Bucky swears you just broke the record for happiest day of his life. He does a mini dance and you can see Alpine giving him a bored look in the background and going off to sleep again. 

Your heart surges, James, your James, your Bucky is now your boyfriend. God you need to squeal and tell Natasha. You need to be calm. 

You both just adore each other and he shifts from sitting to propping his phone against the pillows and laying down. 

“You need to sleep, Bucky.” You watch as his eyes fight to close. 

“I’m awake, my girlfriend is on the phone.” He grins sleepily and you take a screenshot.

“She’s worried about her boyfriend’s sleep patterns.” You say and in the dim light you can still make out the red tinge across his skin. 

“Your boyfriend’s a lucky guy, has you.” Bucky’s eyelids flutter close. Slowly his breathing evens out. 

You shake your head setting the phone in your pocket after murmuring goodnight. 

His eyes open wide in panic when you squeal and run to Nat who was in the kitchen and excitedly tell her what Bucky did, and he smiles as he hears the excitement and emotion in your voice. 

“Doll.” He calls out. 

“Hey Doll.” He laughs when he hears you adoring the bear. 

“Oh god, oh god, I thought i ended the call when you fell asleep.” You facepalm as you hear his laugh. Natasha laughs as you exit the kitchen throwing a banana to her head which she catches before it does the minimal damage. 

“And have me miss the cutest reaction?” Bucky raises an eyebrow, “No way.” 

“I’m so happy, I just, I’ve, you know right?” You remind him about the conversation about previous relationships over your weight and shape. 

“Don’t have to worry about that with me, beautiful. I absolutely adore my doll.” He sends over a flying kiss and you catch it. 

You give him a flying kiss and well and he catches it and does a full show of placing it in his pocket. 

So now Bucky has a plan to keep you distracted and awake. The timer for the premiere shifts to one minute and Bucky begins talking about the latest batch of coding but you can’t pay attention because he’s doing that thing. 

That thing with his fingers and lips and face where all you can do is watch, as he moves his fingers over his lips, along his five o clock shadow and jaw. Oh he knows what he’s doing. He knows. 

Something about python is being said but you couldn’t really pay attention. 

The teasing had been back and forth, which had only started one day when he send you a video from the gym, so in reality he started it. 

The video was of a floor press and he even send you the three digits on the dumbbell that he was raising up against gravity and your jaw was on the floor. 

And naturally, naturally your brain malfunctioned and typed out a nsfw response and send it before you could do anything and he read it before you could unsend it. Bucky smirked he didn’t know you have such a filthy mind. 

He knew the dirty jokes or the innuendos but that one sentence had him imagining what he would do to you. Solely based on the message you sent which started the whole teasing back and forth. So according to him you started it.

You bite your lip as he moves his fingers over his neck and then back to his lips. 

“Doll? Did you hear what I asked?” He raises one eyebrow cockily. He knows you didn’t hear shit. You aren’t even paying attention that the show has started. 

“I um, yeah…” you lie, what was the harm. 

“Really, doll, did you really hear me?” His voice dips in baritone, deep and rich that surges through you. 

You keen, shaking your head to admit you did not comprehend a word. 

“Oh Doll, what am I going to do with you? Maybe I should let you run your lips wherever my fingers just were, you want to do that don’t you?” He questions, he’s removed the third screen so now its only you and him. 

You swallow dryly. 

“Tell me, or should I have my lips on your skin?” He smirks as you shiver at the prospect. 

He was going to take this slow, these were uncharted waters for the two of you, a new aspect of your relationship. 

“Use your words, baby.” He prompts again. 

“Y-yes.” You squeak out. 

“Yes what doll? You want to explore my skin? Or you want me to explore yours? Tell me, tell me exactly how you want this to go. If you want to stop let me know.” He watches you intently azure eyes deepening with lust for you. 

“Want, I want to explore your skin.” You say, he smiles. 

“Good girl, so good for me. Where would you start from?” He puts the phone down where you can still see him clearly. 

“From your temple, trail them to your jaw.” You inform, watching as he closes his eyes and tracings his index and middle finger along where you’ve spoken of your lips. 

“Keep going.” He instructs and you feel your clit pulse. 

“Both sides of your neck, then along the v of the t-shirt and,”

He opens his eyes, his chest rising and falling a little quicker. 

“I’d, I’d take off your shirt.” You say, and watch as he takes off his shirt.

“Feel so soft against my skin, baby. So hard for you.” He praises, you feel yourself grow wetter as he trails his hand over his upper body as you say, even over the scars that you would kiss. His dog tags glimmer against his skin. Your eyes drinking in every bit of him.

“You’re beautiful,” You breathe as you admire him, every surface of him just breathtaking. 

You squirm when he smirks, “Will you do as I say doll? Will you be a good girl for me? Pleased me so well.” He says and watches as you bite your lip, nodding eagerly. 

“Only with you. Trust you completely.” You tell him and he smiles warmly. 

“Thank you for trusting me, Doll.” He watches as you shift nervously in anticipation. 

“Set the phone down,” You maintain eye contact as you set down your phone but keeping your upper body in frame. 

“Run your left hand’s fingers along your jaw, eyes closed.” Bucky instructs. You follow, a small whimper escaping as your skin heats at his words. 

“Slowly undo the buttons of your PJs, such beautiful skin, can’t wait to mark it as mine, you’d like that wouldn’t you? Me littering your skin with love-bites, letting everyone know you’re mine.” 

“Yes, please.” You whimper at his words.

“Go on play with your nipples get them hard for me.” Bucky watches, as your shirt falls halfway off your shoulders, the light illuminating you oh so beautifully. He wishes he was there; exploring your skin with his hand and mouth. 

“Look at you so pretty, so fucking beautiful, following everything I say, are you wet for me baby? Go on, check.” He coaxes you and you run your fingers along your slick folds, whimpering you nod. 

“Gotta show me baby, need to see how wet you’ve gotten for me.” 

You watch his arm move to unbuckle his jeans he moves his hand along his cock, hissing at the contact and then groaning as he watches your fingers glisten in the light. 

“All for me?” 

“All for you, James.”

He groans again, “Touch yourself baby, tell me what do you want me to do?” 

You begin to circle your clit, a mewl escaping your lips. Your skin flushed, Bucky watches as your breasts rise and fall with each breath. 

“Such pretty sounds, bet I could make you scream louder with just my fingers inside you. You would like that right? Fuck just thinking about your warm, tight cunt makes me want to cum, but gotta hold off need to make you feel good.” he says, “go on, make faster circles over your clit, gather your slick.” 

You follow every word. 

“Flick your nipples, keep them hard.”

Your back arches at the sensations, heat blooms in your stomach as you feel your orgasm building. You watch Bucky with hooded eyes his movements gaining momentum. Whimpers and soft moans of his name. 

“Look at you, so beautiful, so fucking beautiful and those pretty little sounds, fuck.”

“Want; want my mouth around your cock.” You say and Bucky groans. 

“Fuck, baby, you look so pretty, you’re close aren’t you? Go on trace the letters of my name on your clit.” 

You whimper the movements foreign but so good as you write his name onto your clit.

“Fuck-fuck, James—,” You arch up again your orgasm even closer. 

“Go faster baby need to cum, you want to cum for me don’t you? Be a good girl and cum for me.”  

His words reach your core and you cum hard with a chorus of his name, breathless and blissfully you watch his mouth part as he moans your name, his hand stroking over his cock imagining fucking your pretty little mouth with your sweet eyes looking up at him. 

He makes a mess of his hand and looks up at you, smirking when he hears your moan at seeing him come undone. 

“So good for me baby. Can’t wait to taste you. Going to stay buried between your thighs.” 

You look away, flustered and your shyness creeping into your chest. 

“Doll, we’ve gotta clean up okay? Then I’ll make sure you fall asleep, did so well for me, haven’t cum that hard in years. Absolutely feral for you.” He admits and you preen under his praise following his guidance to clean up and then you tuck yourself into bed. You give him a soft sleepy smile. 

“You enjoyed it, right?” Bucky questions, worried if he did anything wrong. 

“I did Bucky, did you?”

“So much Doll, I don’t think I can ever encompass how fucking sexy you are into a sentence.” He admits and you hide your face in the pillow. 

“No, no hiding from me, you’re fucking beautiful baby and I’m going to make sure when I meet you, you will feel me even afterwards.” He assures with that devilish smirk. 

“First we’ll have to see if I can take you, I don’t know if you’ll fit.” You blush as you admit to your worry. 

“Oh you can take me baby, I’ll fit inside your sweet warm cunt.” He promises. 

Then a lightbulb goes off in your sleep and orgasm hazed mind. 

“We missed the premiere.” You pout. 

“We will watch it tomorrow at a reasonable hour now sleep or do I need to wear you out more?” He licks his lips and your clit pulses but you shake your head. 

“Good girl. Now I’m here till you fall asleep. Sweet dreams my doll.” He adores you as you begin to drift off trusting him in this moment. 

“Only sweet when you’re in my dreams.” You mumble before pulling the bear he gave closer and being pulled in by slumber. 

In the second month of dating him, you realised you are in love with James Barnes. It wasn’t some big moment or him staying awake the night keeping a video call on so he’d know you’re okay while you were down with the viral flu. 

Nor was is in the soft gasps of your name, in moments that pooled warmth in your belly. 

Maybe it was just one day your gaze lingered upon him as he worked on the code while you studied, and you could see everything with him. All of those future milestones. Everything with your Bucky.

You yet had to say the three words, trying to understand and come up with a way to make the moment even more meaningful. Something that would be a memory for him to hold onto in moments where you couldn’t be there to get to him first.

The thoughts of him that occupy your mind in the middle of the class break when your phone begins to vibrate in your pocket. Bucky was video calling? 

You did the mental math, it was five a.m. for him. Furrowing your brows you tuck your phone back into the pocket standing up and requesting the professor to let you out to use the washroom.

Once out of the classroom you jog to the washroom, quickly answering the call.

“Hey Bucky—,”

“No, no, no, get them out!” Bucky’s distressed voice fills the washroom. You can only make out his ceiling which is shakily into view.

“Bucky?” You ask again, getting worried.

“Please, we need to fall back, get me the fucking order!” 

You hear a thump and the screen gets covered in black but his sobs reach you.

“James? James! It’s me, please please wake up, you’re having a nightmare.” You try to say loud enough incase you were muffled by the pillow. 

“Bucky please, try to come out of it, you’re here with me. With your doll.” His sobs don’t relent, you run a hand down your face, sweat beading along your forehead and dipping down you neck.

The pillow moves and you can see the ceiling again.

“Bucky? Bucky!” You call out again and the phone moves. A flash of white on the screen as Alpine looks down at you.

“Hey, Alpine, I don’t know if you will understand this but push the phone towards your dad’s head please—, Alpine no not—,” The call cuts off as Alpine boops her nose towards the screen.

“Shit, shit, shit.” You call back the line ringing and your distress growing hoping he doesn’t panic seeing your name if the call wakes him from his nightmare.

Alpine jumps on Bucky’s chest as the phone rings under her. He sits up running a tired hand along his head, and then reaching for the phone. 

“Pick up, pick up, pick up,” Your voice fills his room as he answers worry taking over him at your tone.

“Doll? Are you okay?” He peers at you, trying to get a visual if you’re physically fine.

“Oh god, oh thank god, you’re okay. Fuck.” You slide down against the wall, releasing a long exhale. 

“Me?” he questions, brows furrowed in confusion.

“You called, I, think you were having a nightmare… I got worried because you sounded in distress and pain and then Alpine came in and she sat on the phone I think—,”

“Baby, breathe.” Bucky requests.

You pause your thoughts and ramblings, taking an inhale then exhale. 

“I’m sorry I worried you, I’ll keep my phone away the next—,”

“No. No you aren’t going to do that, and Bucky even if by mistake you dialled my number in distress I don’t care, I want to be there for you whenever you need me.” 

“But I don’t want you worrying this PTSD and nightmares are an issue for me to deal with alone—,”

“James, I love you. You aren’t alone in trying to navigate through this, sorry but when you asked me to be your girlfriend that includes moments when you want to isolate away.” You try to sound stern. 

Bucky’s eyes are wide and jaw slack. 

“What?” You worry again did you say something wrong. 

“You love me?” He asks and you close your eyes. 

“I was supposed to plan something nice to say it to you so it would be a happy memory.”

“Say it again.” The raw emotion in his voice tugs at your heart. 

“I love you.” You look intently into his cobalt gaze and becomes clouded with tears. 

“I love you.” He whispers, and you gaze at him with longing. 

“The lilies? They also signify a friendship turned into love.” He reminds you of the flowers. 

“Like us.” You realise, “Bucky, thats how long you knew?” 

“I had a feeling since we started talking didn’t say anything cause I was worried now I feel like an idiot for wasting precious time.” He shakes his head, chuckling. 

“I love you.” You tell him again because nothing else is able to convey what you can say to him how much weight those three words hold only the two of you know. 

“I love you. These three words they hold so much weight, Doll. I don’t know what else to say.” He admits and you give him a watery smile cause you both are crying. 

Because somewhere along the roads that were filled with torment and storms you found each other.

Even though oceans separate you from him. 

Even though miles expand between the palms of your hands. 

You found each other. 

Gave each other the strength to fight everyday. 

Provided laughter in the midst of chaos that should leave you in tears. 

So even though he can’t hold you close to him and you can’t rest your head against his chest as you both confess the love you have for one another. 

Even if he can’t cup your face, bend down and kiss you with everything inside him. 

Both of you know that he is bound to you and you are bound to him by three simple words. 

AN: hope you enjoyed the chapter! reblogs, comments and likes are appreciated!

taglist is open! please comment or message to be tagged!

permanent tags: @stevesmewmew @pandaxnienke

fic taglist: @harry03bb @et-homephone @sebsgirl71479 @blackwidownat2814 @littleone2223 @elbell20-blog

#bucky barnes au #bucky barnes #james buchanan barnes #best friend bucky #bucky x plus size reader #bucky x female reader #buck barnes fic #bucky barnes one shot #bucky barnes fluff #james barnes x you #bucky barnes x reader #bucky fluff #sebastian stan #bucky x yn #the winter soldier x you #frostironfudge #bucky barnes x plus size reader #james buchanan barnes x you #white wolf #bucky barnes angst #bucky is the best #bucky x reader #james bucky barnes #bucky angst #bucky fanfic #modern bucky barnes #modern au #marvel #bucky x y/n #bucky fic

[enteroctopusdarkysilis]

Here’s my take on a batch of custom Nexo Knights minifigs !

Closeups and thoughts under the cut

So, in no particular order, the closeups, with comments and comparisons with the actual characters from the original Lego theme (also, because of Tumblr’s image limits, I had to badly stitch together my pictures, sorry-)

1) Mace

Pretty cool one, and the only girl in the team in the original cast, who also happen to have troubles because her dad is the king. But eh, none of that here, so she get the cool cloak I assign to any cool red character I can find (yes, you’ll see it again many times in the future). The overall design is pretty nice (mostly this face, the other one on the brick is not as good; the printed armor, which is from season 4, is pretty nice, and does a nice job with the large dark piece (coming from later Hero Factory sets). The weapons are from the Chima theme (and so is the cloak !). The hairs are from the only Tron set, which should have been continued as whole theme but eh-

2) Axel

Stupid and muscular originally. Well, now he’s got a Large Axe (Bionicle) to stand to his name. The helmet is all Nexo, but with some custom brew of mine, and so is the shield. Also, the custom arm was possible because the large chest has a technic pin.

3) Clay(more)

Not room much modifications on the base character (s1). The sword is from a season four version of the character, the shield is homemade with some fun pieces I had lying around. The two arms are modified from the Ultimate set. …which I transformed in guns…Yeah.

4) Aaron

Green ! Always had a cooler weapon. The armor is from the mech set, the chest piece is from s3-4, the Google’s are from the Ultimate set, and the shoulder thingy is from Boba Fett. I kept the original shield with some added pieces, which is made to fly (like with the original al character) but changed the face to give him a more serious expression. The weapon is mostly from the original crossbow, with some nice twists (the beam on the first image is from a ninjago sword).

5) Lance Whatever their name is now

Really a bad character : rich, 'very pretty', egocentric. So, well…I took the armor and made an entire new one. I really like them, but it might be because it took an awful lot of time to figure out the weapon (transparent white piece similar to the green beam mentioned above). Armor-wise, it’s s1 body, with a grey pauldron (Clone Wars) and a light grey kama (…Also Clone Wars). The hairs are a really cool piece from a Ninjago set, and the head…Come from a City ski set. But the orange visor makes it work !

6) Never remembered the name of that one

Original character is a very smart kid with not much development in the show. Well, firstly I made him an adult (legs are from a black widow figure), and then I decided to push the technical side a little. So, full suit with crystal swords, which works ! Most pieces are actually from the theme, except the red dots (Ninjago again), the crystals in the back (Power Mine [really a cool theme !]), and the helmet (City firefighters + Ninjago…again). It was the first one I made, which made me do the others.

I might get them in a diorama at some point, to set them against the very many custom monsters from the same theme (which were already much cooler than the original minifigs). In fact, most of the theme was really cool, the two sad points are that it was discontinued, and the TV show was…Well, it didn’t push much sci-fi nor fantasy, so I had to do the job.

Now, with that post I have finally revealed my three favorites things to do with legos : Dioramas, Big Mechs, and Custom minifigures (plus any Clone Wars related stuff, but it’s probably just as much because of the fandom aspect as it is the Lego aspect). One day perhaps, I’ll get all three of these aspects in one epic scene, but I have no idea of how for now, so maybe later~

#lego #lego moc #lego minifigures #nexo knights

[boxmorelover232]

Batman: The Brave and The Bold Theory - The Atlantis Crowning

Note: If this gets good reactions, I may make more in the future.

So, this came to me as I was thinking about Orm Marius (AKA Ocean Master) and his relationship with his brother. Albeit, I was thinking up potential storylines with him for my other story, but that's not important right now. I was rewatching the episode "Evil Under The Sea," taking screenshots of Orm at all stages possible and enjoying the episode when I saw something I hadn't noticed on my first watch. See if you can spot it below:

Did you see it?

As Atlanna (the [presumed] then-Queen of Atlantis) approached her sons, Orm and Arthur (AKA Aquaman), they stood with confident smiles. Orm's confidence stemmed from his certainty of becoming the next king, and Arthur- Well, I'm not sure, but knowing him, it was probably just him being glad to be there.

As Atlanna gets closer, Orm closes his eyes (probably to relish the moment) and Arthur turns his head toward his older brother. And that's the thing that inspired me to write this post.

When Arthur turned his head toward Orm, he smiled at him. It may be my weird sleep schedule talking, but I think this indicates that Orm AND Arthur were certain that Orm was going to be the King of Atlantis that day.

Now, take a look at these images:

When Atlanna goes up to Arthur, he's shocked as the crown is put on his head. While this happens, Orm opens his eyes at the lack of a crown on his head and turns to his side to see what happened. I think this happened because he saw his mother from his peripherals and the head turn was an instinctive decision. But take a look at his expressions.

In picture 1, Orm's eyes are still closed and smiling - likely still expecting the crown to be placed on his head. Picture 2 has Orm open his eyes when the crown wasn't placed on his head and his smile dropped, likely indicating he felt something was off. Picture 3 has Orm look to his left (our right) and sees what happened; he may also be glaring or squinting at what happened, but it's difficult to tell which it is.

And how do the two brothers react?

Arthur's confusion turned to joy, beaming at becoming the next Ruler of Atlantis...

While Orm looks shocked in the first image, and betrayed in the second. Based on his gaze and everyone's placements, it's likely he's looking at his mother for an answer to his unspoken question.

But does he ever get it?

Not that we've seen depicted in the flashback. Instead...

Atlanna hands her youngest the Trident and the decision is finalized for all to see.

Now, granted, this could be a simple summary of events for us, the viewers, but seeing as there's nothing that contradicts the assumption (I kinda stopped watching the episode so I could write this down; if I'm missing something, don't hesitate to let me know) it stands to reason that Atlanna never gave an answer for her decision,

Well, perhaps not in that moment. Or to Orm...

"She loved you, but she gave me the throne because she knew you couldn't handle the power."

That's what Aquaman said, anyway. Now, since we've yet to create the technology to cross into the amazing world of TB&TB (and I'm not in any position to do a lot of late-night research [I'm trying to tire myself out and get to bed]), it stands to reason that Atlanna saw something in her eldest that made her uneasy, such as a thirst for power, and so gave the title of King to her youngest.

Seems fairly simple, yeah?

Except...something feels off about this as well.

If Orm's power lust was the whole reason for Atlanna's decision...why didn't she just tell Orm in the first place? Why didn't she express her concerns regarding Orm's behavior to her son? Why were Orm and Arthur at the ceremony smiling? Better yet- Why was Arthur smiling at his brother in the first place????

Why did they both think that Orm was going to be the next King, if Atlanna knew that it'd be Arthur???

Maybe I'm missing some things, but something just doesn't seem right. I can't be the only one here who thinks it's a little sus how things played out.

The only reason I can think of for Atlanna's behavior (that doesn't involve my personal headcanons) is favoritism. We don't see much of Atlanna or Orm, one's implied to be dead and the other a one-appearance-only character, so we don't get much characterization after this point. However, it doesn't go against anything that's been presented to my knowledge. I say as I've yet to even watch all the way through the Criss Cross Conspiracy.

Regardless of the reason, that little detail of Orm and Arthur's expression in the flashback got my gears turning. I may be right, or wrong, or some flavor of both, but it's a little food for thought for all the overthinkers out there.

Anyway, I hope everyone has a great timezone, and I will see you guys later! 🐟👑🦑

#Theory post #batman: the brave and the bold #Batman: The Brave and The Bold Theory #Arthur Curry #aquaman #orm marius #ocean master #Atlanna #theory #analysis #media analysis #fan theory #speculation #Late Night Thinking

[chadwickbosemanfanfic]

Please note that this is NOT to disrespect Chadwick Boseman in anyway. This is strictly fanfic. If you are concerned with fanfic after his passing, I totally understand and suggest that you do not read this post. Again, it is strictly fanfic.

THE INVITATION (P 2/3) (fan fic)

(Let me know how you feel about this first series!)

Evalyn pushed herself up on her elbows, her sight blurry. She winced against a bright light, shielding her eyes with her forearm. Closing them tightly, she gave them another try to adjust without the pain. No luck. She moaned against the sharp pain in her left temple as she looked around the room.

Her eyes darted from the bookshelves, a picture where a mounted TV screen should be, abstract paintings on the walls, statue figures in the distance behind her that looked like African kings and queens, and beautiful furniture pieces that made the space look unused. She gasped when she noted the oversized shirt covering her breasts. “Where are my—,” She tore the thick blanket off of bare legs. She stood with intention to get a closer look of a family picture placed on the fourth row of book shelving that framed the picture placed as the center focal point of the space. “Where the hell am I?”

“Los Angeles,”

She dived back to the couch. “OUCH! Shoot, shoo-shoot!” Stubbing her toe on the low coffee table, she ignored the pain and scrambled to return the blanket, covering her thighs. “Who buys a table that low!” With her legs still under the blanket, she stood on her knees on the couch and leaned forward. The T-shirt pooled around her hips. Peering over a tall table and stool, she noticed the open patio door where the sun beamed inside. Stretching, she squinted against the sunrise and noted someone wearing white pants, dark socks, a green shirt and a bracelet or watch on his wrist. Hand behind his head. Hair coiled. Tapered sides. From her view, she could only see his profile. But even then, he looked like—

He cut his eyes at her, turning his head slightly. “I thought it was nice. Came with the house.”

She gasped, popping down out of view. She closed her eyes. An image—or memory?—shot through her mind. It was an image that felt like it had happened before. One of her making a decision she would not make sober. The two of them. Get it together.

His expression had been unreadable but she knew he had taken her all in within that quick moment as she had him. His words were even. Expression was pensive. No smile. Thoughts in his eyes like he knew secrets she hadn’t made yet. To her, it was as a look that would have been more seductive under the right circumstances. Wait, it was Meghan. Her damn edibles. You’re not really here. Open your eyes and relax.

She opened them.

She peeked back over the table and stool again. There was a smirk pulling at his lips. “Wha—,” she laughed, more at herself than at the thought of him. “What the hell is wrong with me,” she closed her eyes, laid back. “Evalyn, get it together. Get it together. Come on, girl, get it together,” she laughed again, rubbing her temples. “What the hell did you do last night, dammit? Think, thin—,”

“Nothing happened,”

Her eyes shot open again and she set back up.

He was standing in the patio entrance now, leaning against the frame so casual like all of this was normal. His arms were crossed with hands tucked under the armpits of his shirt. He kept his distance so she could collect her thoughts. He had seen her arrive at the premiere and was introduced to her on the dance floor and was instantly intrigued by her quick wit and delicate gestures. She had mannerisms that were fluid and warm. Joy in her eyes that made her look like she was smiling even when she wasn’t. When she had slipped her fingers into his and guided him away from the crowd and cast members to a spot of their own on the dance floor, he had followed her lead. Gestured for his team to stay where they were. She was harmless. Though she had lead them during a song perfect for twerking, she’d opted for a bold and seductive face-to-face cute two step that ended with a playful embrace. Without much time, it morphed into a more intimate one when he searched her eyes, listening to every word she spoke. And she spoke fast. Her arms around his neck. His hands near her waist, a thumb playing with the chain accentuating her figure while she continued on. He nodded and laughed in all the right spots. It felt good to just listen. Not to be asked any questions. Not to hear anything about who he was or what he does. In that moment, holding her and listening to her talk about a research article that she couldn’t wait to finish while standing in a sexy leather skirt and halter top, he knew there was more to hear than what met the eye. Not that what met the eye wasn’t already enough. He cleared his thoughts of the night before. Focused on her now.

“Wait, this—You?” She looked around for Meghan, who was nowhere to be found. No sign that she had ever been here. But, there was Evalyn’s clothes neatly folded on the arm of an opposite couch. Her eyes darted in his direction. “Who undressed me?” His eyes were genuine. Calm. She didn’t stare long. She lowered her stare back down to the blanket.

“You said you were hot and that you couldn’t breathe. Then, cold. Couldn’t keep anything down. Despite asking for food,” he slipped his hands in his front pockets. When she met his eyes again, she had an apology or embarrassment in hers. “Guess you had an eventful night?” He smiled, but he didn’t hold it long once he noticed she was not comfortable with this information. “They’re washed,”

“You undressed me,” she felt exposed. Her breasts were free. She felt no bra under the shirt. “Did we… ?”

“No,” he answered firmly. “And technically, you undressed yourself. I helped you put on the T-shirt,” Chadwick watched her closely. He wanted to tell her that he hadn’t seen her fully naked but he couldn’t lie. He didn’t want her to feel more uncomfortable than she already appeared. Or worse. Though, he wondered how much she didn’t remember. She seemed completely present last night from when they met in Harlem to the flight to Los Angeles. Well, until about 30 minutes after eating the edible Meghan pulled out of her purse.

She rubbed her temples. “Are you really Chadwick Bose—Am I crazy? Am I dreaming? What—what is happening? Where’s Meghan?”

“Yes, no, no, you both traveled to Cali last night after the after party for the fashion show today. Return flight in about,” he glanced down at his watch. “Twelve hours. My guess is that she’s with Stephan,” he gestured towards the kitchen. “Can I get you something to drink? Water? Coffee?”

“Stepha—? Who? Please forgive me but I still don’t quite understand. Why—how am I here? Am I really here?”

His eyes narrowed. “You really don’t remember?”

She glared around, pulled at and slapped the blanket. “Where’s my phone,”

He crossed the living room, grabbed her cell from atop the bookshelf mantel. When he stepped to her, she avoided his stare but she could smell him. He smelt fresh. She could see her reflection in the phone screen. Her hair was a mess. Lips stained from the lipstick and sure to disappear whenever she quenched her thirst. Though, her Chanel fragrance was still lingering from her wrists and neck.

“I’ll take the water. Do you have a charger,” she tapped the phone screen with the length of her nails. “Doesn’t have a charge.”

He went for the charger first. “Plug is behind the couch, table. To the left.” Then, he went for the water. When he returned, he set the glass on the surface of the coffee table as she fumbled around with pressing the power button of her phone, wishing it could turn on without a substantial charge. She lingered, tapping at the phone longer than necessary. She wasn’t sure if what she felt was nervousness or shame.

“Do you know her number? You can use my phone. Or, I could call Stephane,”

“Yes, thank you. If she’s with—I’m sorry, Stephane?”

“Stephane James,”

She nodded, but she didn’t know him. “Please call him.”

He noticed she was avoiding looking at him too long. “There’s a bathroom down to the left and to the right. If you need it,” he pulled his phone from his pocket, gestured in the general direction of the bathroom, turning his back to her and heading for the patio to give her some privacy.

“Do you have any…,”

He looked over his shoulder.

“Um,” she smiled, but it was weak. “Thank you for the water and apparently for your help to survive the evening,” she shook her head. “I’m usually never this irresponsible—,”

“You had a good time. I can’t take full credit. Meghan threatened to hire someone to kill me if anything happened to you. Not exactly in those words,” he laughed. She finally smiled. “What do you need,” he turned to fully face her, phone to his ear.

“A pair of sweats? Shorts?”

“Oh, of course. Just a moment,” he took the stairs.

She watched him. His shoulders were strong. Back full and carrying his shirt around his fit torso. When he glanced back, she quickly looked down and poked at her phone. “Why don’t you have a charge,” She was whispering, mimicking the sound of disappointment.

“No answer,” he announced. “I’ll send him a text.”

She nodded. Faked disappointment, again.

When she noted he was up the stairs and completely gone from her view, she brought the phone screen closer to her face, wiping at her teeth.

He jogged back down. She heard him coming before she saw him. She lowered the phone and pretended to be adjusting the charger cord. When he extended a pair of black sweats, she finally looked up at him long enough for her to feel a jolt in the pit of her stomach the moment her eyes met his. A surge of awareness bonded the chemistry between them. The exchange required no words. The silence felt like a question and answer they both shared. Though she knew it was best, she didn’t look away. He smirked. Held back a smile. And just like that, they both burst out into laughter and she snatched the sweats from him. Dropping her phone on top of the blanket, she spun the air with a finger.

“Oh, excuse me, my bad—,” he turned away, started walking.

“Don’t leave,” it was an abrupt request. He stopped, remembered not to look back. “I’m just getting a little comfortable now that I realize you’re not a creepy serial killer in a Chadwick Boseman costume,” she giggled to herself. She had to pull the drawstring to its last stretch. Tied it firmly. “Finished!”

“Me,” he pointed at his chest. “You wake up in someone else’s home and you assume I’m the creepy serial killer,”

“It’s a classic plot twist. Waking up in a strange place with a killer licking his knives,”

He laughed.

She smiled. She got back in the cozy spot she had been sitting. “For the record, you lost,” she watched him take a seat on an opposite sofa, bringing his hand behind his head and slouching like the way she discovered him. Now, his eyes were seductive. But she knew it wasn’t intentional. Though, it made her want to keep teasing him anyway. “You do realize I get to tell people that I beat—THEE—Black Panther in a staring contest?”

He frowned, but he was smirking. “So what? No one will believe you,”

Her mouth opened in surprise. “Sure they will,” she looked down at the screen of her phone illuminating on top the blanket. “The tabloids certainly will believe me once I take pictures of this amazing living room,” she went to her camera and lifted the phone. She stole a few shots of him on the couch. She squealed when he stood. He was smiling but it was sly. She wasn’t sure if he was going to try taking the phone so she didn’t risk it. She shot up from the couch and made a run for the bathroom. When she felt arms wrap around her waist, she fell into her weight and he came down with her on the floor. She was on all fours and tucked the phone close to her stomach.

When he heard her still laughing, he knew she wasn’t hurt.

“I wasn’t going to delete the picture. I was going to look at it,” he was telling the truth but she didn’t believe him.

“Why don’t you have a full carpet on these wooden floors,” she giggled, pushing his hand away from accessing the phone. The effort made her spin and she rocked back off her knees, her back bumping against his chest.

His reflexes jerked his head back and to the left of hers so that she didn’t head-butt him with the quick motion. From such an intimate angle, he could smell the fragrance on her skin more clearly. Just as he was about to pull them both up from the floor, she looked over her shoulder at him.

Their eyes met. This time, they were too close in proximity to divert their energy elsewhere. Their eyes lowered on each other’s lips. She suddenly smiled, shyly covering her mouth with her fingers.

“I know my lipstick is a mess,” she giggled, dropping her eyes. “Stained lips are—,”

His left hand came to her chin, gently lifting for her eyes to return to his.

“You use humor as a form of avoidance,”

Her brows frowned, slightly. “Not all the time,”

“Now?”

She offered a closed smile as her answer.

He scanned her face. Then her eyes. “I’m glad you told me not to leave your side on the dance floor,”

Her eyes narrowed. “I did not,”

He smiled, nodded.

She rolled her eyes. “I’m such a light weight,”

“Not exactly,” his chest bumped into her back gently. She realized she was leaning against him for support.

Her eyes bucked in surprise. “Hey, be a gentleman. I’m sensitive,”

“I do it too,”

She frowned, unsure.

“Humor for avoidance, sometimes,” he smirked.

“You call that humor?”

“Relative,”

“I suppose so,” she playfully bumped against him. “Meanie,”

“Evalyn,” his voice grew serious. “In an effort to being a gentleman,”

“Um-hmm,” she kept her eyes on his, her response low. Subconsciously matching his tone.

“Can I kiss you?”

… (to be continued)

#chadwick boseman #chadwick #black panther #marvel #tchalla #fanfic #wakanda forever #wakandans #the invitation #marvel mcu #disney

[pocarinapyon]

💢 Sing For Me -- Albedo

Mondstadt, the city of wind and song, was a place full of merriment wherein ballads could be heard from bards and citizens alike. To hear your lover sing – it was your one and only request to him that he never indulged you with. Albedo wished he did. If he sang now, will it make you come back? Impossible as it may be, he could only wish his voice had the power to wake you from your permanent slumber.

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Starring : Albedo

Warning : 💢 [Angst] Implied character death (darling); Pet names (if it bothers you); Cheesy Albedo (?); Sad Albedo; etc.

A veeery very short piece with a word count of 752. Yet another attempt from me to write a different genre. 😅

Links : Pinned Post

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I made this gender neutral as much as possible. Please let me know if I missed anything.

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To whoever is reading, please enjoy.

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“Albedo, won’t you sing for me?” you pleaded with doe eyes. Both you and Albedo laid down in bed, preparing to sleep. Facing each other’s way, your hands rested on top of another’s hips in a loose embrace.

“My love, I would rather you sing for me,” Albedo responded as he closed the gap between you two, sliding his hand to wrap them on your back and nuzzling his head on your chest.

“Aw…! But I want to hear your singing voice! Please?” you whined.

“Ah, but I had such a long day,” Albedo countered, faking a whine similar to yours. You could feel his lips curled into a playful smile.

“Not fair,” you complained yet your hand lovingly placed itself on top of Albedo’s head to stroked his fluffy hair.

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The memory looped inside Albedo’s head as he stared blankly into space. Why didn’t he want to sing for you? It was a simple request – one that he always had ways to divert back to you. It wasn’t the first time you asked to hear his voice in a song. He couldn’t even count how many times you begged to at least hear a melodic hum. But that particular night, he wished he indulged you. If he knew you would forever be gone, he would have sang every single ballad he knew, regardless if you thought his voice was terrible or not. Perhaps it would make you happy. Perhaps this wouldn’t even happen.

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The skies were painted in a mix of orange, red, and purple – colours different from the usual dark blue Albedo used to see when returning from work. He silently opened the front door of your shared home, making his presence unknown in an attempt to surprise you. The faint scent of delicious food wafting from the kitchen greeted him. Walking further, he heard sizzling in the pan serving as white noise to your melodious voice. He took a peek to see you caramelizing onions as you sang a love song – your favourite one, he notes. Albedo smiled lovingly as he took in the homely image before him, thinking how lucky he was to come home everyday with a hearty meal prepared by his beloved. You truly were a wonderful person as he felt the tiredness from work washed away by just your existence.

“My love, your angelic voice really soothes me,” Albedo said, wrapping his arms around you from behind.

“Welcome back, my love!” you beamed, not losing focus on the dish you were making. “I thought you said you’ll be back much later. Why are you so early?”

“Hmn… Your sweet voice brought me back here,” Albedo said as he planted his face on your back.

“Silly! You didn’t leave work unfinished, did you?” you gently reprimanded to which Albedo chuckled a ‘no’ in response. “My love, I just figured the reason why I always come back home late whenever I did commissions. You never sing for me.”

“Oh, no. I believe the reason why you always stay late outside is because you wish to gather materials for me. Simply put, it is because you love me,” Albedo concluded.

“Do I really?” you teased.

“Of course,” Albedo settled confidently as he placed a longing kiss on your cheeks. “And I love you too.” Another peck on the cheeks. “So much.”

“I love you too, Albedo,” you purred, meeting your lips with Albedo’s.

.

‘I love you. So much.’

Please magically come back to life. Please come home. Albedo missed you terribly. His chest tightened as he suppressed the tears forming in his eyes everytime he thought of you. The closest he could be with you were through his paintings and still there were so much he could not capture in the canvas. He was afraid he would forget you. Anything. He would do anything just to have you back, be it alchemy or a song. It did not matter as long as he would once again feel your warm touch; to breathe your fragrant scent; to see your beautiful face; to taste your sweet kiss; to hear your beautiful voice.

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“I swear, Albedo. One day, I’ll make you sing for me.”

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Yes, you did make him sing. But did it have to be like this? He would rather sing you a lullaby to sleep than to chant a hymn of mourning. Or perhaps he would join you as you sang your favourite love song. Sweet words are better than a requiem, after all.

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Inspired by the song Les Gens Qu'on Aime (by Patrick Fiori). I’m listening to Khoi Dao’s version, (Albedo’s Eng. VA) though.

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Happy birthday, Kujou Sara!

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To whoever read this, thank you for your time. Here, have some cake slice and a cup of water (pay no mind to the straw, please). 🍰🥤

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Stay hydrated, people!

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Links : Pinned Post

#genshin impact #genshin angst #genshin albedo #albedo #genshin imagines #albedo kreideprinz #albedo angst #albedo x you #genshin albedo angst

[sweetestberryofthebunch]

The one where One thing goes right

A/N: Thank you so much to @thecollectionsof and @magic-dinosaur for beta reading this part, I wasn’t too sure about it at first. It’s been proofread and overworked now, and I‘m more than happy to post it now! Hope you guys enjoy this teeny weeny bit of progress xx This is becoming such a slow burn ship and it wasn’t even planned to be at first..

The bar was a blur. Packed to the max with people crowding around it, faces known and unknown. Denali was pretty sure she knew the blonde girl chatting to Adore Delano from somewhere, but it was difficult to form a single thought with all the noise around here. Everybody talked:, to someone else, over someone else or to themselves. All of them tried to made themselves heard over the others as well as the music blasting from somewhere. Laughter. Chattering. Someone screamed hysterically. Someone else stepped on Denali‘s toe. The shock of the sudden touch made her stumble more than the actual sting of the impact. She needed to get out, somewhere quiet, somewhere away from the packed bar and the yelling. No, she needed to get drinks for herself and Crystal, like she promised. Fuck, where was the other girl anyways? With all the people towering all around her, Crystal was nowhere in sight.

Ouch! Denali‘s back hit someone as she tried to take a step backwards.. Shattering. Drops of sticky, sweet liquid splashing on her feet. Fuck. Denali tried to turn around, already muttering all the excuses she could muster up. But as she did, her elbow hit another person. Her head whipped around. The blonde, leaning against the bar. Her eyes were grey and widened at the image of Denali. Her mouth moved, but it was impossible to hear a word against the wall of sound caging Denali in. She was suffocating. Fuck, why was there no air? She couldn’t breathe-

Suddenly, there was space. A hand around her wrist. Someone pulled her out of the sardine box of bodies. She bumped against more people, stumbled over her own two feet, but then she was out. The sound shut out, automatic doors behind her closed.

Finally, Denali managed to look up.

Olivia. Denali felt the lump in her throat dissolve at the sight of her roommate. Next to her stood a pale, slightly shorter guy in a black two piece, his bare chest peaking out from under the jacket, sheepish grin on his face. „Hi Nali“, he chuckled.

All Denali could muster up was a smile in return. Olivia still held her wrist, thumb gently stroking the soft skin there. „Breathe“, she instructed.

The small room they stood in suddenly rumbled, before the ground began to vibrate slightly. Denali flinched, the panic immediately rising up again. But then her eyes found the set of buttons behind Mik, her mind acknowledging the mirrored walls around her. An elevator. She breathed out through her nose, back leaning against the cold wall behind her.

Olivia’s eyes were filled with worry. „Girl, you looked like you were about to implode out there.“

Denali chuckled, shaking her head dismissively. „Too many people on too little space“, she explained, „And it didnt help that I’ve seen half of them on TV before.“

Mik laughed out at that. „You get used to that, gorge, trust me.“

The elevator stopped, crisp, cold air blowing inside. They were on the roof.

The coolness against her skin gave Denali another much needed dose of grounding, and when she stepped outside, her knees didn’t feel like jelly anymore. Liv and her boyfriend followed after her, Miks arm around the girls waist.

Denali managed a shaky smile. „It’s good to finally meet you, by the way!“

„I could say the same“, Mik grinned, „Liv says our room is way cleaner since you took my spot.“

„Like that’s hard!“ Olivia laughed, her hand running through the boys black hair before glancing over at Denali again. „Are you feeling better?“

She nodded. „Yeah, but I left Crystal alone down there…“

„No issue!“, Mik beamed, already stepping towards the elevator. „We’ll go tell her where you are! By the bar?“ Denali nodded, hoping Crystal hadn’t left there since she was gone.

Mik took Olivia’s hand, pulling her into the elevator with him. The girl hesitated for a moment, glancing over at her roommate. Denali shot them a thankful smile, turning around quickly when Mik pulled Liv into the elevator, their lips locking mere seconds before the door closed behind them. At least they still had a good night, despite Denali‘s outburst …

She took a deep breath, letting the cold night air fill her lungs. The roof was cute, each corner of the Terrasse had a different set of chairs and tables. Fairy lights were wrapped around the fence, there was a little grill and a large chest, probably filled with cushions and other garden pillows. No one was up here, the party downstairs nothing but a faint noise, lost in the night. Denali stepped towards the edge, leaning against the fence to glance downwards. The house was only a few floors high, but still towered over the small rows of the historical downtown area. A car drove by, its lights barely reaching Denali, the sound of the motor quickly lost down the road. The street light right underneath her flickered weakly, as if it was just as nervous about the people downstairs as Denali felt.

„So I guess the out of order sign was useless.“ Denali jumped at the sudden voice, turning around on the spot, hands gripping the reeling behind her. Rosé came strutted towards her, heels clicking against the wooden planks on the floor, a vision in pink and pastel fumbling with a lighter.

Great, out of all people, of course the pink haired smoker had to come up here and find Denali, who still had barely composed herself again. She felt her shoulders tense up, making a stance by turning away from the older girl and staring into the swirl of night and faint lights underneath them instead.

Unbothered as ever, Rosé sauntered over anyway. She came to a halt beside Denali, elbows probed up on the reeling. She didn’t wait for Denali to answer, continuing to speak through the cigarette between her lips. As always, it seemed more like Rosé spoke to hear herself, rather than for others to hear her. Or probably a mix of both.

„We‘re already on thin ice with this whole thing, we don’t need people breaking stuff on the roof as well. Party guests aren’t allowed up here- Oh, fuck off“, She cursed after the lighter wouldn’t spark for the fifth time in a row. Denali chuckled at that, relaxing slightly against the reeling.

„I didn’t plan to break anything“, she responded, voice still unsteady. „Mik and Olivia brought me up here.“

Another insufficient try to use the lighter. The pink glittering press ons certainly made Rosé‘s task a lot harder. It was an odd contrast to the finger tattoos, Denali couldn’t help but think of how she liked Rosé’s fingers better without the bling on her nails. Shaking her head at the audacity of her own thoughts, she held out her hand. „Let me.“

Rosé raised a brow in surprise, staring at Denali for a moment. Their was a thick layer of highlighter on the tip of her nose, Denali realised. A perfect, rosy circle, with a little bit of access on her nostrils. The same shade of glitter on her cheeks, the inner corners of her eyes. She had to fight the urge to gently tap the nose, fix it just a little. Goddamnit.

Finally getting a hold of the lighter, she gave it a try herself. A perfect little flame sparked up on the first try, dancing slightly in the breeze. Rosé rolled her eyes. „Traitorous thing“, she mumbled, leaning forwards to light her cigarette nonetheless. Denali held it up for her, trying her best not to glance at the way the flame reflected in the taller girls eyes, dancing around on her pupils all on its own. She only realised she had in fact been staring when Rosé blew the first cloud of smoke in her face. „Hello, I’m done, stop wasting my lighter“, she huffed in mock accusation and Denali shook her head before handing the lighter back.

„Thanks“, she sighed, unable to really sound too angry, „Now I’m going to smell like you all night.“

Rosé chuckled, her eyes lingering on Denali just a second. Her lips parted, as if she wanted to say something, before both of them trailed off to look at the dark city under them in silence. But something hung between them now, unsaid. It wasn’t a bad thing though. The silence between them wasn't daring or uncomfortable, it was simple and peaceful. And Denali finally felt truly calm for the first time that night.

„Why are you up here?“, Rosé broke the spell at last without looking at her, blowing smoke into the fresh night air. Watching the smoke curl upwards to the stars, Denali crossed her arms, trying to cover up the goosebumps forming on her bare skin, on her chest and over her arms.

„Kind of had a panic attack down there. Liv rescued me.“

At that, Rosé stopped in her tracks, smoke leaving her open mouth without being inhaled properly, glancing over at the shorter girl. Her eyes darkened, genuine worry in the way her forehead wrinkled up. „For real?“

Suddenly, Denali felt uncomfortable, exposed. In shame over the ridiculousness of her own panic, she wrapped her arms around herself tighter.

It was just a stupid party, what did it matter? It was the same as any dorm party she’d been to back at home. Only that it was in a larger, much fancier place and she didn’t know any of the guests. Only that Rosé had invited her and maybe, just maybe had a part of her had hoped she’d await her, greet her at the door, instead of letting her be swallowed by a mass of beautiful, influential strangers that would never waste a breath on people like Denali. The sudden shaking of her shoulders had little to do with the cold, as Denali felt her chest start to clench up again.

„Hey“, Rosé‘s voice softened. Before she knew it, Denali felt an arm around her, subtly, almost shyly pulling her towards Rosé‘s form. After a moment of hesitation, she let herself lean into the embrace, Rosé‘s body a source of warmth in the crisp night. The pink sequence scratched her skin lightly, but she leaned closer anyways, Rosé‘s embrace the cure to the lingering panic.

„It‘s okay“, the pink haired one mumbled, suddenly a lot quieter, a lot more serious than usual, „I used to panic all the time before galas with mum. It’s easier if you have someone with you …“ Her fingers wandered up and down Denali‘s arm, caressing the cold skin.

Denali let out a chuckle, almost nervously. „Shouldn’t have left Crystal then I guess.“

Rosé’s form tensed up, just for a second, but enough for Denali to notice. „Crystal?“

Denali glanced up at her, watching Rosé pull out one last puff of her cigarette before dropping it to the ground. Her now free hand lingered in the air for a moment. Denali noticed it shake. Before she could think about it, she reached for it, closing both of her hands around Rosé‘s fingers. They were cold, just as she had expected, but also so incredibly soft …

„Yeah“, she answered, „Crystal wanted to come so I took her as a plus one. Didn’t expect to panic like this though, I probably ruined the night for both of us by disappearing.“

„Nothing’s ruined“, Rosé cut her off immediately, almost bewildered. „It’s still early.“

Her eyes looked down at her hand in Denali‘s, fingers interlacing with hers. Denali felt her breath hitch, her own fingers close around Rosé‘s tattooed hand all on their own.

Rosé’s arm was still around Denali’s shoulders, her fingers grazing over the goosebumps of her arm, just slightly. It certainly didn’t help her shivering.

Rosé shifted, stepping away from the reeling, pulling Denali with her. The smaller one had to suppress the protest building up in her throat, glancing up at Rosé in question instead.

„You’re cold“, was the explanation she got, „We should head back inside.“

„No!“, this time, Denali couldn’t catch herself before the whine left her lips, the lower one pushed forward in a slight pout.

Rosé, who was already one step in front of the elevator turned around, brows raised in surprise. Denali glanced down at her toes, shifting around where she stood. Damn, it really was cold.

„I mean, you can go of course! I just don’t think I feel like partying very much tonight …“

Rosé took a moment to look at her, her face impossible to decipher. Her hand still held Denali’s, and she pulled her quivering form closer by it. Denali leaned into her immediately, cursing herself for it in secret. But Rosé was so warm and the night was so cold and, oh, she just put her chin on her head, hands rubbing both of Denali’s arms. They stood like that for a moment, just Denali being held by Rosé as the pink haired girl tried to stop her from shivering. Denali suddenly thought maybe it wasn’t the cold that affected her body like this.

Rosé shifted again, her hands dropping. Denali tried to glance up at her, but then felt a short, gentle touch on the crown of her head. Rosé’s lips. A warm, electrifying tingle shot through her body, from the crown to her head to the very tips of her toes.

But before she had the chance to even comprehend what just happened, the elevator doors right beside them swung open. Rosé let go of her, hopping inside.

„Okay“, her voice was calm, almost casual, but her cheeks were bright red, „Wait here, I’ll get us a blanket.“

#berry’s writings #academia au #rosenali