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#on the surface of a very small pond
megansplants · 2 years
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Fall is approaching quickly and I’m still trying to figure out what my living situation might look like. Looking more and more likely that I’m going to have to get rid of a significant number of my plants 😭😭😭😭💔
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astraystayyh · 6 months
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Volcano
pairing : han x reader. enemies to lovers. slow burn.
summary : you've never gotten along with han, your mutual prejudices ruining any prospect of friendship between you both. but you slowly realize that you are more similar than what you originally thought- your darkness recognizing his, and his light yearning for yours.
"I'll take care of you. It's rotten work. Not to me, not if it's you."
cw : depiction of a panic attack, minor injury, both reader and han say mean shit to each other, cursing, mention of alcohol, reader has she/her pronouns.
word count : 13.2k
a.n: highly recommend listening to "Let the light in" by Lana when Han starts playing it in the fic hehe feedback is highly appreciated as always <3
skz quotes series masterlist.
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You remember being seven years old, sitting on the floor of your bedroom, while your mom brushed your hair. It was a late July night, a cold breeze swaying your white curtains, akin to the fluttering of a butterfly’s wing. Your eyes were slightly puffy, delicate red veins protruding the white of them. You had just finished watching a Disney movie- the Lion King; heavy sobs escaping your lips when Mufasa died.
There were still faint hiccups coursing through you, a slight shake in your hands as you fiddled with the hem of your shirt. Your mom brought you to her chest, her chin resting on your small shoulder blade. "You’re sensitive, my sweet girl" she had uttered, rubbing your arms soothingly.
It was the first time someone described you as such. You didn’t know what ‘sensitive’ entailed exactly, but it contained the word ‘sense’, so you assumed it was something good, a quality to be proud of you. You could sense, maybe more than others, maybe too deeply. That’s why you cried when you didn’t get a good grade, or when your friends left you alone in the park.
But you didn't mind back then. What was your heart made for if not to feel?
You should’ve paid more attention to the way your mom spoke, to the bittersweetness lingering in her tone. As if she knew exactly what it entailed to be sensitive- to have your heart overflow with delicate feelings for the rest of your life, with no safe destination to guard them in.
☄༄
You’ve forgotten the last time you cried in.
The tears are lodged inside your throat- you can clearly feel them, an uncomfortable weight sitting on your vocal cords, rendering them impossible to use.
You used to cry, freely, so much that you lost count of how much it happened. But you realized that every tear that escaped your eyes, made you vulnerable, weaker, in the hands of the people around you. Every tear that washed over you, only rendered you more transparent for everyone to peer at how they wounded your soul. 
So, you conditioned yourself to stop feeling as deeply, or at least to stop showing it. The sadness, the hurt, the anger were all stored within you; but your face remained placid, not betraying how you truly felt. You were like a pond, tranquil at the surface, raging from within.
But on days like this one, you miss the person you were. When the implications of being sensitive still haven’t weighed down on you. When you could get rid of your feelings in the essence of your tears. When you didn’t yet feel bad for feeling.
Chan's eyes are on you, as you type furiously on your laptop. Your vision is so blurry that you can no longer see your lit screen. But you’re afraid that if you pause then Chan would ask if you were okay, and you hated that question. Because you never truly knew the answer to it. Yes, you were okay. But you haven’t cried in six months and your friend didn’t greet you back this morning and you suddenly feel very small in a very large library.
"Hey," Chan taps your hand with his pen and you suck in a slight breath, before raising your head to meet his eyes. "Are you-" he starts but you’re quick to cut him off, knowing exactly where this was headed. "Did you answer question five? I’m stuck on what formula to use."
Chan raises a brow at you, and you blink repeatedly. His eyes travel to your feet tapping furiously against the floor, and he understands.
 "I'm still at number four," he finally says and you nod in relief. You’ve been close friends for a year and Chan has come to know you- he’s dropping the subject.
"Oh, and are you coming to the party tonight?" Chan asks, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. He’s hosting it and there is hope twinkling in his eyes. You feel bad because you’re about to crush it.
"No, need to revise more for the upcoming test."
"Of course, you’ll still be buried in your books," a sarcastic voice quips up, and you stiffen inwardly. Han- one-third of 3racha, Chan’s self-made producing group, and the bane of your existence. You never liked who you were around Han, he brought out the worst in you. Made all your insecurities roar forward, plastered across your body in neon red.
He was friends with Chan, long before you came into the picture, back into their high school days when Han skipped a class and ended up in the same one as Chan’s. A genius, as everyone around you liked to call him. And they were right- excelling came easily to Han, in everything he ever did. Even tapping into each one of your tender nooks and crannies.
He knew how to expertly push your buttons, how to make his tone sound mocking, and taunting, but only to you. Because you were sensitive, and he knew it, finding it almost amusing to toy with you. 
You decide to stay silent because nothing good ever comes out of talking back to him. So, you bite your tongue, turning back to look at your screen. But Han’s elbow grazes your arm, as he leans a bit further into your face. "Come on, live a little, y/n. You’re missing out on the college experience," he makes a big show of opening his arms wide, a single red pen spinning between his fingers. "Quit being stuck up for one night." And it spins, and it spins, and it spins and something ugly inside you crumbles.
"I’m sorry I wasn’t born with a golden spoon shoved down my throat and I actually have to work for my future."
Han’s eyes widen at the raw animosity in your voice, before narrowing down promptly. He’s leaning onto your face again, and his tone is low and cold when he speaks again. "What did you just say to me?"
"Is it so hard to grasp that not everyone is as privileged as you? We can’t all afford to get wasted every fucking night and call it a life."
You’re being mean. This is the rudest you’ve ever been to someone else. You know that your reaction is disproportionate to what he said. But it isn’t just about this instant. It’s an amalgam of every moment Han made you feel small in, because you don’t go out as much as him, because you don’t understand as quickly as him. Taunts thrown your way under the guise of teasing, but you know better.
Still, guilt eats at you as your eyes lock with Chan’s. You should’ve stayed silent, as you’ve been diligently doing for the past year.
"How do you stand being her friend Chan? Is it out of pity?" Han muses, a pout pulling at his lips. You stare ahead as Han tsks lightly, before tapping your cheek with his pen, bringing your face back to him. "I think it is. Because isn’t she so fucking boring?"
Being near Han always makes you hyper-aware of things you never noticed before. Like how a breath has to travel from the depths of your body so you’d be able to release it, and how excruciatingly long it takes for you to draw in a new one. Because Han’s words are never harmless, no, they settle on the confines of your lungs, crushing down any bit of oxygen willing to leave you.
You've had enough.
"When you’re eighty, on your deathbed, and all alone. I hope you know that there is no one around to blame but yourself."
"Don’t cross the line, yn," Chan finally speaks and you scoff, as you get up to grab your things.
"What fucking line, Chan? So, he can insult me all day but as soon as I do it there is a line? Why are you taking his side?"
Chan stays silent and you chuckle dryly. "Of course, you are. You’re only friends with me out of pity after all."
"That’s not true-"
"Well, you didn’t deny it, did you Chan?"
"Yn, I-"
"Save it."
Han’s eyes are glossy as you take one final glance at him. But your heart’s bleeding too much for you to care about his minor cut.
☄༄
For how much time can a conversation haunt someone? Seventeen days, for your case. And you're still counting.
You have nit-picked your fight with Han in the library so much that it's driving you insane. His voice is drilled into your head- the coldness of it as he reeled back from the shock of your words, and then, the pure venom dripping from his tone, as he attacked you where it hurt the most. Chan.
Han chose his words carefully, stitched up the sentence perfectly to hurt you, to stick to your flesh like burnt skin, one that you peeled over and over, each time it threatened to scar.
You haven't talked to Chan in seventeen days. He tried to stop you; on your way out of class, in the line of your campus cafeteria, on the doorsteps of your dorm. But you always fleet away. His eyes were also imprinted into your brain- the disappointment in them when you clapped back at Han.
What about him? You wanted to yell. Why are you only disappointed in me?
But the tears in your pillow have dried. Then fallen again. Then dried once more. And you found the answer to question five. And you miss Chan, terribly so.
That's why you're pacing around his dorm, at 10 pm, when it's also terribly cold outside. Your fingers have gone numb from the ministrations of the wind, but you don't move from your place. You know that the chances of seeing Han- the second person you’ve been avoiding like the plague- would be higher here. But you didn't care anymore.
Your thumb hovers over the call button and you bite your lip harshly. Would Chan pick up? Would he hang up? Was he really your friend out of pity?
"Yn?" a voice calls out, and you startle, turning around to see who it is. Changbin, carrying two bags of groceries in his hand. He's Chan’s friend as well, the final member of 3racha. You like Changbin. He's always being very kind to you. You've grown much closer to him than to Han in the past few months; not that the latter has ever wanted a friendship with you. From the day you met and his eyes narrowed promptly each time you talked. You should’ve known from the start.
"Why are you out here in the cold?" Changbin asks gently, stepping cautiously towards you.
"Chan," you say simply and he nods, understanding what you mean.
"He's not here now, but he'll come home soon. Let's go inside, okay?" he smiles tentatively at you and you hum in reply.
Changbin opens the door and you follow inside. You help him take out the groceries silently, stacking them in their fridge and shelves. Lots of protein powder, and chicken packets. You'd laugh about it if you weren't so sad.
"Chan misses you," Changbin speaks up suddenly, and your heartbeat quickens at his words.
"I miss him too."
"Then you'll be okay."
You try to remember Changbin’s reassuring smile when Chan finally opens the door to the dorm, an hour later. He finds you sitting on the stool in the kitchen. His eyes light up once they settle on you.
And you unravel at the sight.
You're crying, sobs rippling from you as he brings you to his chest. He's patting your head and whispering that it's okay. And you know his shirt is all crumpled from clutching it in your hands. But he doesn't mind. He only hugs you tighter.
"I'm sorry, yn. So, so, sorry. I should've stopped him before, I just... You two are my best friends and I didn't want to add fuel to the fire by talking and-"
"It's okay, it's okay, I'm the one who should apologize for ghosting you."
"I understand why you did it. I fucked up but I missed you so much. Can we please never do this again?”
“Yes please,” you giggle, but the sound withers as the door opens once again.
"What is she doing here?" a cold voice breaks you and Chan apart, as your eyes land on Han. His gaze sucks the breath out of you, and the warmth in your heart fizzles out. Your hold on Chan’s shirt tightens and he takes an unconscious step in front of your body. Han doesn't miss the protective gesture.
"Get out, yn."
"You don't get to kick my friends out of my house," Chan is angry. And you regret ever coming here.
"Last I checked it's my house too." Han doesn't even bother looking at you. He's holding Chan’s gaze as if they're silently communicating. "You know damn well what she said why-" he takes a deep breath, running a hand angrily through his hair. "Fuck this. If she's not leaving then I am."
And with that he storms out, slamming the door behind him. You flinch at the sound.
Chan’s eyebrows are knitted as he stares at where Han stood seconds ago as if trying to conjure him up once again. You never wanted to strain their friendship. You knew how much Han cared for Chan, even if he didn't bear the same sentiment for you.
"Chan, I’ll leave. Call Han and tell him I'm gone."
"You don't have to."
"I know," you reassure, placing your hand on his forearm. "We'll talk more later, okay? It's cold and he has nowhere to go. Just call him, please."
"Fine," Chan concedes. "Call me when you get home, alright?" his eyes finally soften and you squeeze his hand in reply, before heading out as well.
The walk from Chan’s dorm to yours is fairly short, but tonight, it seems like kilometers are separating you from the safety of your bed. There is a heavy weight crushing your bones, most of it being guilt at what just transpired between Chan and Han.
That's what comes with being sensitive- you bear the weight of your feelings and the one of those surrounding you.
Were you out of place with what you said to Han? Yes. Was it eating you inside to see the consequences of your words? Yes. But he was also to blame, you repeated in your head. He was also to blame. Please. You plead, you don't know to whom, maybe to the voice in your head to stop being so mean. 'But none of this would've happened if you weren't so sensitive. So easy to bruise' the voice mocks and you stumble on your feet.
It happens so suddenly it takes you off guard- the way the breath is knocked out of you. You pause, chest heaving as you bend down slightly. Your hand is on your heart as you try to breathe again, but it's shaking so much. Your legs give out under you, and you plop down on the floor, eyes tightly shut. You can't breathe. You can't breathe. You're going to pass out.
"Yn, what-" A hand rests on your shoulder but you shake it off. You don't want to be touched. Not by him.
"Let me help-" Han speaks again, and you scramble away from him, as best as you can anyway. You end up kneeling on the ground once again, your back to him. "Get-get away."
"I know you're mad but you aren't okay and I know how horrib-"
"You aren't helping!" you shout through tears, as your heart threatens to spill out of your throat. "You’ve hurt me e-enough already."
You don't remember how you got home that night, how you managed to open the door or cross the road leading to your dorm. But you remember Han leaving you on the cold ground, just like you wanted. You remember the ache in your bones as you laid on your bed; the burning desire to stop feeling for a night, to cut your chest open and tear off your bleeding heart.
☄༄
One month later
If there's one thing you've always complained to Chan about, it's the fact that his building had an elevator in it, unlike yours.
Today, you’ve come to regret this fact. Tremendously.
You’ve been avoiding going to Chan’s dorm for the past weeks since the last thing you wanted was to see Han. But, he insisted on you coming over, reassuring you that it would only be him and Changbin at home since Han supposedly had other plans.
Well, Chan was wrong. Because Han just walked into the elevator you are in, mere moments before its doors closed.
Your breath catches in your throat as his eyes lock on yours. He looks like he wants to say something but he decides against it, opting for sighing loudly instead, before pressing the button leading to the fourth floor, rather harshly.
Your need to flee has never been this strong.
You watch anxiously as the numbers slowly go up. 1… 2… 3… Then a loud voice startles you and the elevator starts to shake in place. The door is suddenly opened and you are met with a cement wall, blocking your exit.
"What the fuck?" Han groans as you press the emergency button repeatedly, hoping that the elevator will resume its course and this nightmare will be forgotten.
It doesn’t.
"You’re going to break the goddamn button," Han pushes your hand away and you stumble away from him.
"Can you shut up? I’m not in the mood for your bullshit."
"Does it look like I’m happy to be here?" Han scoffs, as a ringtone plays in the elevator, cutting you off before you could respond. 
"Hey guys, this happens from time to time, so no need to worry. Is everyone alright?" Someone speaks and you assume it's the worker charged with the maintenance of the elevator.
"Yes," you both reply at the same time.
"Great. We’ve contacted the mechanics but they said there’s a lot of traffic, so it might take a bit longer for them to get here."
"How long?" Han asks the question that’s on your mind as well.
"Two hours, at most, for you to get out."
"Oh, for fuck’s sake," you groan, as hot tears prickle at the corner of your eyes. This is the last thing you needed today- to be stuck in a cramped-up space with the one person who sucks the oxygen out of any room you’re in.
"Thanks, man," Han sighs and you turn your back to him, facing the wall. You’ve had a horrible day, scratch that, a horrible week. Hanging out with Chan and Changbin was the one thing you were looking forward to, only for the worst possible scenario to happen- being stuck in the same place with Han. You feel an urgent need to sob but you can’t cry in front of him. Not when he’s all claws and your skin is tender.
"Wait, are you claustrophobic?" He suddenly asks, seemingly inches away from your body.
"As if you’d fucking care," you scoff, before heading to a corner of the elevator and settling down.
"I'm not a monster, you know," he mutters in an almost sad tone, one that forces you to look up at him. His hands are deep into his pockets, eyebrows knitted as he gazes down at you. "Do you really think I’m that much of an asshole?"
"Yes," you reply instantly, before staring forward again. The hurt that flashes in his eyes shouldn’t tug at your heartstrings, but it does, ever so faintly, like the last wave that grazes your feet as you get out of the ocean. "I’m not claustrophobic," you add after a while and Han finally sits on the opposite side from you.
It’s hot and stuffy in the elevator, and it’s quiet, too quiet for your liking. You’ve never really liked silence for too long, it made the small voice in your head only grow bolder, louder, impossible to ignore.
Thirty-five excruciatingly long minutes go by and the tension only grows more suffocating. It’s simmering, barely beneath the surface, waiting for the person who will finally make it explode. 
It’s Han.
“Can I ask you something?”
“No.”
“Come on, we have nothing else to do.”
“Have you tried being silent?”
"Yn," he says sternly and you begrudgingly concede. "Fine. Ask me."
You imagine him smirking slightly, the way he does each time he manages to push you over the edge.
“Why do you hate me so much?”
“We’re not doing this right now,” you shake your head, tone adamant.
"When’s a better time for it? We’re literally never in the same place."
“And whose fault that is?” You smile too sarcastically and he frowns. “So, I’m the only one to blame?”
“Can’t you see how full of yourself you are? Fuck, Han, this is exactly what I hate about you.”
“What are you even talking about?”
“You’re so immature, you never sit back to think of how your words might impact someone.”
"What words yn? I was teasing you!" his voice grows louder and so does yours. "You were hurting me!" you yell, chest heaving. There is something utterly terrifying in this confession- to let someone know how easy it was for them to get to you.
"But I didn’t mean to," he drags a hand through his hair, exasperated. "It's not my fault you felt that way."
An ironic chuckle leaves your lips, as you point at him. "See, you're doing it again! You're blaming me for my reaction instead of evaluating how your actions might have caused it."
"Look, yn," he scrambles to you until there are only a few centimeters separating your bodies. "I really wanna fix this, okay? Can we stop screaming?"
"Why are you so hellbent on fixing it?" you question, as you lean further away from him. He notices and takes a step back, giving you space.
"Because although I don't care about you, I care about Chan. And this is hurting him. So, I want to be civil with you."
The mention of Chan feels like a cold bucket of water dousing the fire within you. You know he’s struggling to be in the middle of two people he loves. He doesn’t deserve that.
"Fine," you sigh softly. “You talk. I’ll listen.”
"I didn't... I didn't know that my words would hurt you. In truth, it looked like you weren't affected at all. That's why I kept pushing you because… God Yn you're so perfect it maddens me."
Your eyebrows knit together at his words- the last thing you expected to stumble out of his mouth. "What are you talking about?"
"You never get sad, never get angry. Your emotions are always in check. You're always smiling, always laughing. Have everything figured out from how you want to be now to where you want to be in the future. And you know yourself, you never step out of order. And this is selfish and stupid but it irked me. Because I am the opposite of you. I'm a mess and too human it terrifies me, so I wanted to see if you had a breaking point. But each time I taunted you, you remained placid. So, I kept pushing to see if you'd break one day because, selfishly enough, that would make me feel better about how broken I am."
"Han, you're so stupid. Aren't you a literal genius? You excel in everything you do and you have fun on top of it, every single night. Don't you realize how lucky you are?"
"Do you really believe I find joy in being wasted and not even remembering what happened that night? I do that because I'm in my mind most of the days and it isn't the best place to be in. So, I like to forget."
“Why do you think I always bury myself in my studies? Because it's safe and it makes me forget too. Did you really think I didn’t feel? I feel too much and that’s the problem.”
Han remains silent as you curse under your breath. "Do you even realize how selfish this is? To test a human's breaking point? All because what? I didn't shove my struggles down your nose? Would you go around and do this to everyone who looked fine to you?"
"I know, I know, I was just in a bad place, and this isn't an excuse but I... I felt as if you were just showing me everything that was wrong with me."
"That is how I felt around you," you chuckle bitterly and he hangs his head low. He’s much quieter when he speaks again. “I guess we’re more similar than I thought.”
"Doesn't excuse what you did. You targeted me and made me feel insane because no one was hearing the hostility in your tone like I did."
"I know, I know. I'm sorry. I really am. I never thought it'd get this bad and I deserve every name you called me."
"You do." You close your eyes, as Han’s words wash over you. There is so much more you want to say, so much you want to spit out in his face because of his selfish coping mechanism. But you also want peace, for Chan’s sake. So, you try to bury your resentment, just like you do with every other feeling. One day it’ll turn into indifference. You’ll make sure of it.
You bite your lip, before clearing your throat. Your tone is softer when you speak again. "I'm sorry for what I told you in the library. About you dying alone and whatnot. That wasn't nice of me."
"You really hit the nail with that one," Han chuckles quietly, and guilt floods your heart at the expression on his face. "And I'm sorry for calling you boring. You aren't. And for everything I said before that."
"Okay. It's okay." You reassure, a tiny smile drawn on your lips.
He nods before a sly grin grows on his face. "Should we hug it out?" he teases, cocking an eyebrow at you and you stare pointedly at him. "Don't push your luck."
"Yes, ma'am."
An hour later, the mechanics finally manage to get the elevator going, which in turn allows you both to get out. Han opens the door to the dorm, and you find Chan lying on the couch, scrolling down his phone.
"Han? I thought you would..." he starts before trailing off as he looks up. "Yn? Where were you, I’ve been calling you for the past two hours."
"I didn't have signal."
"Why where were-" Chan goes to question before stopping once again. He hurriedly stands up and walks toward you.
"You... Are standing next to one another."
"We are," Han replies, glancing at you from the corner of his eye.
"And you aren't... Fighting?" his statement comes out more like a question, which makes both you and Han chuckle.
"We aren't."
"We talked it out, in the elevator which we were both just stuck in," you add and Chan’s eyes grow wide, as a breathtaking smile breaks out on his face.
"Oh my god. Finally. We'll talk about the elevator bit later but it's been so hard trying not to be in the same place as the both of you."
"We know. We're sorry," you both pout in sync and Chan shakes his head, before opening his arms wide. You giggle, before walking to him and sinking into his embrace. Han follows you shortly after, and your eyes meet behind Chan’s back. He shoots you a tiny thumbs up.
Is this how a dandelion feels, you wonder, when someone blows on it in the hopes it'll grant their selfish wishes. Only to be tossed away afterward, lifeless.
You drown out the thought before smiling back at Han. It doesn’t reach your eyes.
☄༄
Befriending two-thirds of 3racha holds within it a lot of privileges. The first one is listening to unreleased music, the second is having exclusive insight into their upcoming performances.
Their gigs don't happen as often as they'd like, because they're still students who unfortunately have lots of assignments. But when a window of free time materializes, they unveil their latest productions at vibrant parties, dimly lit bars, or even the occasional club. Which attracts a lot of people, some even coming from neighboring towns to listen to them play.
Everyone can recognize raw talent, even if rap doesn't happen to be their favorite genre.
This is how you know that they'll be performing Heyday, their latest creation, at Seungmin’s party. You've met him in passing, and Chan insisted that you'd come. Not that you needed much convincing anyway, you fell in love with this song the minute you heard it.
There is an exhilarating energy in Seungmin’s mansion, a palpable anticipation preceding 3racha’s performance, as you all gaze at the makeshift stage. The place is packed, bodies pressed tightly to one another. You feel slightly uncomfortable but you swallow it down. You're here to support Chan first and foremost, you can leave if things become too much for you.
The introductory chords materialize abruptly, and 3racha takes the stage. Chan is clad in a white shirt with huge gaps on his sides, revealing glimpses of his chest each time he bends down. Changbin, on the opposite end of the spectrum, is wearing a tightly fitted black shirt, hugging each muscle of his to perfection. Han, the last one to walk in, sports a loose black shirt, with a low neckline. His nails are painted to match the color of his attire, you notice.
The song kicks off with Changbin's incendiary rap as deafening cheers ring all around you. You make sure to scream on top of your lungs too, as Changbin’s loud voice commands the attention of everyone in the room. You’ve always held a penchant for his rap style- how powerful he sounds, and how addicted you quickly become to hearing him on stage. You remember once telling him that any song that starts with his rapping is a successful hit. He playfully nudged your shoulder but his appreciative smile was hard to miss.
Chan’s part is next and you try to rap along, as best as you can anyway due to your fleeting memory. It sounds mostly like gibberish but you don’t mind, especially when your eyes meet Chan’s and he grins at you, before morphing into the mesmerizing stage persona that's peculiar to him. You clearly remember the first time you witnessed him on stage, and how enthralled you were by the sheer power he exuded. His destiny was intertwined with music, no one could deny that. 
A bed squeaking sound comes next, followed by the knocking on the door and you giggle against your will. That was Han’s ingenious touch, as Chan had shared when you'd raised a quizzical brow at him while listening. “Is this based on a real-life experience?” You asked, a knowing smirk etched upon your features, and he pretended to zip his mouth, earlobes turning a vibrant shade of crimson.
Han finally starts rapping in his inimitable style, exuding an effortless, laid-back aura. Your gazes meet at the "let's go play" line, and he tilts his head quizzically at you as he utters his confused "huh?". You raise one eyebrow at him prompting a sly smirk from him, before redirecting his attention to the opposite side of the stage. Yet, your eyes remain on him throughout his entire part.
The boys step off the stage, and you watch from the corner of the room with a wide grin as a swarm of people surrounds them. Congratulations and praise fill the air, and you can tell that 3racha thrives on this moment- it's what they live for, what makes their souls rise up from the ashes. 
Chan catches your eye, and you applaud enthusiastically, letting out a happy giggle. He blows you a kiss, and you playfully pretend to catch it, eliciting a small shake of his head. Changbin, who's standing near him, catches the exchange and winks at you from a distance, to which you respond with two thumbs up.
Even though you're a bit far from them, you're certain the boys can sense the pride radiating from you in waves. There's something truly magical about humans existing in their element, particularly people you care about.
Your gaze shifts to Han, and your smile falters slightly. He's also glowing, but signs of discomfort are starting to creep onto his face. You recognize them fairly well, as you've felt them too at times when emotions become overwhelming. So, after a brief internal debate, you decide to act and begin making your way toward him, pushing through the crowd despite the rising complaints behind you.
They fall on deaf ears.
You grab Han's forearm, pulling him with you through the sea of bodies toward the bathroom. He doesn't fight, following diligently behind you. You open the door and pull him inside, pausing as you realize you don't have a specific plan for bringing him here. This is also the first time you've been alone together since the elevator conversation.
"Thank you," Han whispers, and you nod, your eyes softening. "I'm okay, I love performing, I just needed a breather," he quickly adds, as if feeling guilty for being overwhelmed. 
"That's completely understandable. You are running on a lot of adrenaline, and the room is so crowded," you say with a smile, turning to the mirror to touch up your makeup.
Han remains silent for a while as you powder your face, before reapplying your cherry lip gloss. You can hear him taking in deep breaths, and you avoid looking at him, worried he might feel embarrassed.
"What did you think of the performance?" he finally asks, and you raise your head slightly. You lock eyes with him through the mirror, as he leans against the door, arms crossed in front of his chest. His black t-shirt falls a bit, revealing more of his bare skin, and your eyes trail down for a moment.
"It was really good. I think this song might be my favorite of all yours."
"Really?" Han grins, his words filled with an excitement that warms your heart despite yourself. He's just received heaps of compliments from hundreds of people, yet your words still seem to affect him deeply.
"Yes. I loved your rap, how it started in a laid-back manner, and then you cleared your throat and picked up the pace. It added a unique edge to the song."
"Thank you, really," his smile is genuine, and you giggle softly, shaking your head.
"What's funny?" he asks, walking up to you. You're still facing the mirror, and he's now only inches away from you.
"I didn't imagine you'd appreciate my compliment this much."
"It feels sincere," he shrugs and you nod, finally turning around and leaning against the sink.
"It is sincere."
"Good."
You hold his gaze, eyes only trailing down to go across his face. He looks far different from how he did on stage. Shier, more eager for praise.
"You have..." he steps up until the scent of his cologne tickles your nose. His hand raises ever so slowly to your face, and you hold your breath, as he picks up something from your cheek. His hands are warm.
"An eyelash fell. Make a wish."
A surprised chuckle escapes your lips. "You wish on fallen lashes?"
"You wish on everything when you need hope." his voice is low, a timber so foreign to your ears it sends shivers down your spine. So, you close your eyes, wishing for your heart to quit beating so fast.
"Done," you whisper and he blows the single lash away, his gaze still on you.
"Thank you for coming."
"Of course. I had to support Chan and Changbin." It slips from your mouth before you can stop it, and Han slightly recoils from your words.
"Right, them. Yeah. Of course," he finally backs away, and oxygen fills your lungs once again. "I'm good now. Should we go out?"
"After you," you nod tightly and he walks ahead first, his perfume trailing after him and pulling you into a dizzying dance. 
☄༄
The party Seungmin hosted was your last time having fun for a while. Your preparation for midterm exams began soon after, and you found yourself swarmed with assignments left and right. Thankfully, you and Chan were going through it at the same time, which meant you met at the library each day, revising silently near one another.
Except this time, you were joined by Han.
Goosebumps ran across your skin as he pulled the chair next to you, not the good kind of shivers. You were reminded of the fight you had right here, three months ago. Which still left a bitter taste in your mouth.
You don't hate Han anymore. He's actually funny, and you enjoy listening to his ramblings when you go over to Chan's dorm. He's also really different in his home, much quieter, and softer. Much more like you.
But you're also human, and there is still a part of your brain sending off warning signals at his presence. Maybe because the hurt was never buried properly. You just brushed it off under the carpet after your elevator conversation. Most of it was spent shouting anyway.
"Hey," he greets and you just nod in reply. You can feel his gaze linger on you a bit after that, and a pang of guilt twists in your heart. "Hi," you finally reply, but you tune out his response. Why is it that you're sensitive to everyone's emotions but your own?
Twenty minutes go by, then forty, and you can no longer take the uncomfortable feeling clinging to your skin. So, you excuse yourself, hurriedly stepping out of the library.
Han follows you; you can tell it’s him because someone's chair scraped loudly against the floor as soon as you stood up, and that couldn't be Chan because he is always careful with the silence in the library. So, you put on your headphones and walk faster.
This is childish, surely it is, but you can't control your emotions. You've apologized and so did he, you talk from time to time and you even held his arm and took him to a quiet bathroom. So where is all this bitterness coming from?
"Dammit, yn, how are you so fast?" Han grabs your arm pausing you. He's panting slightly and you just blankly stare as he takes in a deep breath.
"Are you okay?" he finally asks and you nod, turning around to walk away. He stops you again.
"I made you uncomfortable, didn't I?" he asks quietly, and you sigh, rubbing your forehead wearily.
"You didn't do anything, I just... Being in that library reminded me of certain things."
"I know. Me too. Can we please talk?"
"We are talking," you raise your brows and he stares pointedly at you. "Come on you know what I mean."
"Fine," you giggle, "we can talk."
"I didn't apologize properly to you in the elevator. Truth is, I did it because Chan was mad at me and I couldn't stand it anymore."
The bitterness- you understand where it comes from now.
"But I am sorry. Truly sorry. I was selfish and I hurt you and this will sound like a joke, but I hate hurting people. I really do. I was just too wrapped up in my problems that I didn't realize how it would affect you and I'm sorry, I'm really sorry. I also shouldn't have tried to kick you out that day, but dying alone is my biggest fear, and seeing you in my home made me want to lose my mind because I couldn't get what you said out of my head, but it was so cold outside and again I shouldn't have told you to go out and I am so sorry-"
"Han, breathe," you smile, cutting him off and Han sucks in a deep breath, chest slightly heaving from talking uninterrupted for a minute straight.
"I'm sorry I just wanted to apologize, properly this time. I'm doing it because I'm guilty, not because of Chan. Nothing excuses my behavior, I know. And I wish I could turn back in time and actually get to know you because you're really cool and very nice, but I can't. All I can do is apologize. So I'm sorry, Yn. I really am."
"I appreciate it," you smile, and Han exhales a little from relief. "I didn't know that was your biggest fear, but even if it wasn't, that was uncalled for. I shouldn't have said something so mean. So, I'm sorry for it too. But I'm not apologizing for being mad, you deserved that."
"I did, I did, I know." He's quick to agree. "I don't want us to be awkward around one another. I'm not telling you that you have to be my best friend but, we can be friends, right? But you also don't have to. It's enough if you forgive me and... You know what? Never mind forget I said anything, I'm just nervous and-"
"Okay."
"Okay?" he repeats.
"We can be friends. I accept your truthful apology."
"Actually?"
"Yes."
"Like we can start over?" he grins and you chuckle at the excitement in his face. "Yes."
"Can we hug it out?"
"Too soon," you pout and he nods, a faint blush dusting his cheek.
"Right. Should we go back to the library? I saw that you were stuck on a question. I can help you."
"You won't make any comments?"
"No. Pinky promise." he outstretches his pinky towards you and you muse over it for a bit, before wrapping your finger around his. You grin at Han- your first genuine smile since he's known you. His hold on your pinky falters.
"Okay. I'm in."
.☄༄
Five weeks later- 1:13 a.m.
You were still slightly cautious near Han as if you were both threading along an invisible line. You could talk, but not too much, afraid any old animosity would shine through. And you could stay together, but not too long, in case it gets awkward and you wouldn't know what to do. So, you never mixed, just like water and oil, each of you knowing their place, away from the other.
But you still didn't want to miss out on outings with your friends. So, when Chan invites you for a movie night with Han, and Changbin, you don't say no.
The night runs smoothly, the warm beer you had easing your nerves bit by bit. It was also easier to forget that you once hated Han when he brought tears to your eyes from laughing so hard.
2:56 a.m.
An unbearable heat suddenly envelopes you, your very blood boiling from within. You hesitantly look down, to find your entire body bathed in red, as if your skin had melted away, exposing you to the scorching heat embracing your tender flesh.
You are in the heart of a volcano, with lava bubbling dangerously below. Hanging by a frail thread, you dangle over the edge of death.
And then, you plummet. 
You startle awake, your heart pounding in your chest, your hand clutching it tightly. Cold sweat clings to your skin, and it takes you a few moments to realize that you're safe, far from the inside of the volcano that had threatened to consume you.
You glance at your phone- 3:43 a.m. You read. It's only been a mere hour since you went to sleep. You don't think you could drift back into slumber. 
Dragging a hand tiredly across your face, you walk into the pitch-black kitchen. You pour yourself a glass of water, hoping that the icy drink will cool you down. You are safe.
"What are you-" you startle, dropping the glass and spinning around, hand pressed to your heart.
"Han, fuck, you scared me," you sigh, tugging at your hair slightly and he's quick to your side, a string of hushed apologies tumbling from his lips.
"I'm sorry, here let me clean it up," he kneels and you follow suit, grabbing his hands and gently pushing them away. "No, I dropped it, let me clean," you reassure, but your hands are trembling as you pick up the shards of glass, any bit of logic clouded by your racing thoughts.
Your heartbeat's ringing loudly in your ears, you barely register the glass cutting your skin until an uncharacteristic warmth oozes from your hand. Blood.
"Shit," you curse lowly and Han illuminates the place with his phone flashlight. "Did you cut yourself?" he asks and you shake your head, walking over to the sink.
"It's nothing, don't worry."
"Yn, let me see," he's standing behind you, the ghost of his breath grazing your exposed neck.
"Han, really it's-" he cuts you off, grabbing your forearm and walking you over to the couch. He finally turns on the lights before crouching down in front of you.
"Show me?" he asks gently and you're too tired to fight him. You open your palm tentatively, taking a look at your cut for the first time as well. It's not too deep, it won't require stitches. But it's also not shallow, blood oozing from it at a steady rhythm.
Han simply frowns upon gazing at your wound, before walking over to his room. You don't move from your spot, gaze lost into the space before you. What would happen if you never woke up? Would you feel your flesh burning? Bones melting as the searing lava-
"Here," he gently holds your wrist, as his eyes meet yours. "This will hurt a bit. Hold my arm as tight as you want and tell me if it becomes too much, okay?"
"Okay," you simply nod.
He dabs up your cut with a cotton pad soaked in alcohol. You hiss softly, as the liquid burns your open skin. Han abruptly stops at the sound. "Did I hurt you? I'm so sorry I didn't mean to I just-"
"It's okay," you smile reassuringly, "I can handle it."
Han nods, resuming his treatment. He's even softer this time, if that is even possible. He's careful when he rubs a soothing gel on your cut, before wrapping your palm in a gauze. He can't find a pair of scissors so he cuts it with his teeth, his lips brushing against the back of your hand. You account the warmth you're suddenly feeling to the aftermath of your nightmare.
"Why are you even up?" he finally asks as he settles next to you on the couch, eyes looking up to the ceiling.
"Nightmare."
"You’re okay?" he asks gently and he sounds truly concerned for your well-being. You aren't used to this. To Han acting like a friend to you. But it feels nice to be cared for, so you don't mind him blurring the lines tonight.
"I'm still a little bit scared," you admit sheepishly and Han's eyes soften under the dim moonlight.
"It passed. You're okay now."
"Am I?" you drag a hand tiredly across your face and Han frowns, inching closer to you.
"Is it a recurring dream?"
"Mm. It tires me out."
"Do you want to talk about it?"
"No, I just want to forget." 'Help me forget' you want to add, but you decide against it. "Why were you up, anyway?"
"I got inspiration for lyrics so I had to write it down."
"Can you share some with me?" you ask, tone a tad too hopeful. Han catches it and smiles warmly at you.
"Sure. This is probably going to be in the chorus..." he pulls out his phone, heading to his notes app. "This is what I have so far... I let my frustrated screams out hoping that they’d be washed away in the rain. I send it off with a smiling face, down to the last drops left on my fingertips." he pauses, scrolling down a bit more. "I also wrote this; I think it'll be nice in a verse... I’m sure it’ll get better... Just like the earth hardens after the rain and flowers bloom again."
"You're such a talented lyricist Han," you whisper in awe, and Han’s cheeks warm up at your words, reminiscent of a setting sun. "But I also wish it was as easy as this. To let out all the emotions you bottle inside and for them to wash away with the rain." You bite your lip, as Han’s words echo in your head. "I think... I think that's why I get this nightmare. I don't free my emotions anymore, and they show up in my dreams to torment me."
You don't know where these bouts of honesty are coming from. Maybe because you're too weary to keep up a happy facade. Or maybe because you know that the person who wrote these lyrics must understand exactly how you feel.
"Well... It's raining." Han whispers after a while and you look at him, confusion plastered across your features.
"And?"
"Should we test it out?"
"Test what?"
"Screaming under the rain," he says as if it's the most evident thing in the world.
"What? That's insane, Han we will get sick and..." You pause, as the words dissolve in your mouth like the seafoam meeting the shore. "You know what? Let's do it!"
"Really?" he asks incredulously, a huge grin on his face.
"Yes!"
"Okay, let's go!"
You both abruptly stand up, still only clad in your pajamas. You quickly slip your shoes on before running outside. The rain envelops you in a cold hug as soon as you step outside, rain droplets trickling down your clothes. You don't mind, you have lots of bottled-up feelings to free. 
"This needs music," Han smiles as he takes out his phone, putting his playlist on shuffle. 'Let The Light In' starts playing, and you shoot him a thumbs-up.
"It fits the rainy mood," you grin and he nods, squinting his eyes to be able to look at you.
"I think if we scream here, we'll scare the neighbors."
"I know!" you chuckle, wiping away the rain droplets on your forehead. "Where should we go?"
"The empty parking lot!" Han shouts so you'll hear him over the growing rain and you nod. He takes off running and you chase after him. You're both completely drenched once you're a bit far away from the house. But you don't care. Not when there is pure adrenaline rushing through you.
You finally stop, loud giggles escaping your mouth at the thrill of what you're doing. "You should start!" you yell excitedly and Han nods, taking in deep steadying breaths.
"Okay, I'm ready!"
"On the count of three! One... Two... Three!" and Han shouts at the top of his lungs, his screams getting lost in the rain. An incredulous smile breaks out on his face as you giggle loudly, the sound of it ringing out in the downpour.
"You looked insane!"
"I feel insane!" He yells honestly and a fit of laughter takes over you both. You hold his arm to steady yourself. 
"You should try it now!" Han urges and you nod, willing yourself to calm down. 
"Okay, will you count down for me?" 
"Yes," he assures and you clap excitedly. Han can't help but smile at the excitement on your face.
"One... Two... Three!" And you shout, continuous screams spilling from the depths of your soul. Han wasn't wrong- your pain, your fear, your anger are all dripping along the rain droplets, from your bruised heart to the tip of your fingers.
You've never felt this free before.
The two of you don't notice the passage of time, the rain acting as a cathartic release to all your pent-up emotions. It was as if your pain intertwined with each rain droplet, and you were letting go of everything that had held you down. Each scream acted as a break from the burdens of the past, and the worries of the future. 
As you finally stopped, panting and soaked to the bone, you looked at each other with raw exhilaration in your eyes.
"So, how was it?" Han yells over the rain and you break out in a relieved smile. "I don't think I’ve ever been this happy my entire life," you beam at him and the sight makes the rain feel less colder to Han. 
He watches, a small smile on his face as you twirl around, face looking up toward the sky, a deluge of rain grazing your cheeks like a lover's tender touch. The smile doesn't leave your face as you spin around, happy chuckles leaving your mouth from time to time.
You look... free. As if there was an invisible weight on your shoulders that the rain washed away. A heavy burden that you carried within you, like a secret secret. He likes the sound of that. Maybe that's what he'll name his song. 
Han slightly shakes his head as he watches you skip around, clothes completely soaked. You are now standing a bit far away, right beside a street lamp.
Ooh, let the light in
Its light shines on you alone.
Time seems to slow down, as Han’s steps falter. You're smiling, not at him, but at the universe. A happiness so raw filling you that it needs to come out, even if no one's watching.
You're spinning around, delighted giggles spilling from you like the most mesmerizing chorus. Something is building up inside Han, begging for a release. It refuses to come out in a scream- violently. It's tender and soft. He thinks that if you held his hand right now, you'd be able to free it.
Look at us, you and I back at it again
Is it possible to feel something other than an emotion? Because right now, weirdly, all he feels is you.
Cause I love to love to love to love you
I hate to hate to hate to hate you
Your eyes land on Han and there is pure joy dancing in your pupils. He's glad you no longer despise him. He doesn't think he can stomach it anymore.
Cause I want to want to want to want you
You run to him, holding his hand before twirling him around.
I need to need to need to need you
Han can't believe he ever thought you weren't human enough. You are a mosaic of every feeling that makes one human. There are lyrics writing themselves in his head and they're all about you.
Ooh, let the light in
You clasp both his hands, before crossing them over. And then you're both spinning around until the world around you blurs. All he sees is you, and the light surrounding you alone.
Ooh, turn your light on
He thinks he might, if the light is you.
5:22 a.m
"There is a heater in my room, you should come," Han offers as you dry your hair with the blue towel he just handed you.
"It's okay I’ll stay here," you point to the couch but he shakes his head adamantly. "You'll die from hypothermia. Do you know how mad Chan will be if I let you pass away?" he whispers in fear, a hand clutching his heart.
"So dramatic," you giggle, before following him into his room. He goes on his bed first before tapping the spot beside him. You sigh before lying next to him, snuggling further into the hoodie he gave you to change.
"You're still shivering," he remarks, as your teeth clink together.
"It's okay."
"You shouldn't have gone out with just a t-shirt."
"I didn't exactly plan on this, you know," you smile sarcastically and Han chuckles before tapping your shoulder softly.
"Come closer."
You debate for a second before complying, the cold tuning out all the rational thoughts in your head. 
Your arm brushes against his and you can't breathe once again. But it's a different type of deprivation. Han always seems to steal the oxygen from your lungs, but for once, you don't mind. Red embers are burning within you and their flames keep you alive. You press your chest to his back, as your forehead rests on his shoulder. Maybe he'll turn you to ashes. Will you rise from them?
"You're so cold," his hand reaches behind to rub your arms soothingly, an earnest attempt to warm you up.
"I’ll be fine, go to sleep. Don't worry about me."
"I can't control it."
In the dark room, Han can't see you curling your hand into a tight fist at his words. 
"If you stay quiet then I’ll sleep," you say after a while and Han giggles softly.
"That's the goal. You need to rest."
"You should sleep too."
"I will."
"Okay. Good night, Han."
"Good night, Yn."
You think he's fallen asleep when you speak up again. "Hey, Han."
"Yes, Yn?" He replies instantly, voice slightly hoarse. 
"Can you repeat that lyric to me, about the flowers blooming again?" You ask quietly, and you feel him nodding against your chest.
"I’m sure it’ll get better... Just like the earth hardens after the rain and flowers bloom again."
His warm voice vibrates within your body. "That's a nice lyric."
"I hope you'll dream of it instead."
☄༄
Against Han’s strong belief, he's the one who fell sick after your rain-soaked outing. 
You knew of it from Chan, who texted you saying that Han caught a nasty cold, and then got food poisoning, which meant he couldn't be there for their highly anticipated meeting—after their electrifying Heyday performance, a record label expressed strong interest in signing them. 
"Can you come over and stay with Han?" Chan implores as soon as he answers your call.
“That bad?” You ask, a pout pulling at your lips.
"I don't want to leave him alone. He's been really sick for the past week now, and… it's partly your fault"
"I can’t believe you’re guilt-tripping me into coming," you chuckle even though you know he is right. Han wouldn’t have gotten out in the rain if it wasn’t for you.
"I'm sorry it’s just I don't think he's been good, apart from the illness. And I’m worried, and I don’t know I thought maybe you could talk to him. He reminds me of you, in his sadness, so you might understand what's wrong more than me."
You think it over for a second before rising up from your bed.
"I'm coming"
As soon as you step inside their dorm, Chan pulls you for a side hug, placing a quick kiss on your forehead. “Thank you so much,” he whispers, clearly grateful that you agreed to come. It worries you even more for Han.
“No problem. You can go, I’ll be with him.”
“Thank you, Yn” Changbin smiles before hastily pulling Chan outside the door. You wave them both goodbye.
You cautiously crack open the door to Han’s room, to find it completely engulfed in darkness. The stream of light from the door falls upon Han, who squints his eyes, trying to see who disrupted his fragile peace.
"Hi," you speak softly, finding it a bit odd to raise your voice in such a still room. Han attempts to sit up, before doubling over, hand tightly clutched around his stomach.
You rush to his side, kneeling beside his bed. It's the only lit-up part of the room.
"Still hurts?" you ask, your hand moving in soothing circles on his back. He nods, eyes squeezed shut, and you feel your heart crack at the sight.
"Have you taken any medicine?"
"A few hours ago. I need to eat something before I can take more, but I can't get up to the kitchen."
"Why didn't you tell the boys?"
"Didn't want to be a burden."
"You aren't. I'll make you something to eat. Okay? Try to sleep meanwhile."
"You don't have to," Han shakes his head, his eyes finally meeting yours.
"I know," you smile softly, before exiting the room.
Minutes later, you're back in the room, a bowl of sliced fruit in your hands.
"Do you guys live off protein powder and frozen chicken?" you ask, earning a quiet laugh from Han as he lays his back against the headboard.
"We do. Please save me," he jokes and you laugh, shaking your head. "Good thing I grabbed some fruit before leaving."
"Thank you," he grins, eyes slightly squinting closed. 
"Here," you grab a strawberry, bringing it to his lips. His eyebrows raise up in surprise, a sheen layer of sweat coating them. "What? Look at how tightly you're clutching the comforter," you point to his hands and Han sighs, before parting his lips slightly.
His mouth brushes against your fingertips, igniting a cascade of emotions in you. You'll think about what it means later.
You grab a green grape next, feeding it to him gently. A drop of water trickles down the corner of his mouth, and you wipe it away with the back of your finger.
"I can- I can do it," Han mumbles, voice wavering like an unpredictable storm. His trembling hands reach for the bowl, but they struggle to hold it right.
"Han, it's okay, I don't mind," you try to keep your voice gentle, sensing that there is an impending doom awaiting just below the surface.
"No, I- I need to do it. Just let me-" A tear falls into the fruit bowl. "Let me do it, please. I can- I can do it, I’m not useless, I…"
The floodgate opens.
A stream of tears escapes Han's eyes as he looks down at the bowl between his hands. He's crying, eyes tightly shut and the small whimpers escaping his lips feel like a dagger piercing your heart.
"You're sick. Let me take care of you."
"It's horrible horrible work." His voice cracks as his eyes finally lock on yours, and you can tell that his anguish isn't about his illness. These are the words of the shadows threatening to swallow him whole. You have to fight them off with the light.
"I will do it."
As Han lays on his bed, the sound of you washing the dishes resonating from the kitchen, your voice bounces off the dark walls in his head. You didn't try to convince him that it was easy work, you told him you'll do it, even if it's horrible. You'll do it because you want to, not because you can, not because it's accessible. The thought sends a warmth in his chest. It's faint, like a flickering candle trying its best to withstand the wind. But it's there. He holds on to it. He'll shield it with his cupped hands so it wouldn't fizzle out. 
"Hannie, you’re okay?" you peer into the room. Hannie- the candle's flame grows higher.
"Mm," he hums, too weak to turn and look at you.
"You're shivering," you remark, and he tightens the blanket around his body. "It'll pass."
You stay silent, and he thinks you've left the room. But then he feels the left side of the bed dip, with you climbing tentatively on it.
"This worked last time when I was cold," you smile softly at him, before bringing his head to your chest and wrapping your arms around his shoulders. He feels frail and fragile in your embrace. You hug him tighter to you.
"Warming up?" you ask and he nods against your chest. He's burning.
"Try to sleep," you urge quietly, your hand moving to pat his back. "It will pass."
"What if it doesn't?" Han asks faintly. Please don't let the candle die, he wants to plead.
"There is always light at the end of the tunnel."
"What if the tunnel is closed?"
"Then you go back to the start and find a new one," you respond.
"Can I find it later? I'm so tired tonight." His voice is drowsy, sleep already clinging to his achy bones. 
"Just rest for now. You did well," you scratch his back lightly, as he nuzzles further into the crook of your neck. 
There was never a candle to begin with- you were the light.
☄༄
Had someone told you five months ago that you'd be lying on Han's bed, watching "Howl's Moving Castle" at 2 a.m., you would've thought they were utterly delusional.
Yet, here you are now.
A lot of things had changed since your rainy outing with Han, as if the universe had shifted into alignment, two stars in the sky finally colliding and making way for something new. You saw him under a different light, understanding that no one picks up a dandelion unless they desperately need the solace it provides.
You've grown to care for him, in the course of the past two months. And funnily enough, you've started to like who you were next to him- just yourself, with no pressure of making conversation, or catering to his expectations of you.
He saw you at your worst anyway, and so did you, there was no use in filtering things anymore.
You've been there through the entire process of writing, composing, and producing Secret Secret- the song whose lyrics had captured your heart. You didn't expect him to ask you to be there with him, he just shot you a text, three days after you came over to his house. 'Wanna be there while I work on the song? I know you liked the lyrics.' It was an offer you couldn't pass up on.
You weren't, in your opinion, much help. Han was gifted in the music realm and song-making flowed naturally from him. But he noticed how interested you were in music, so he called you over each time he worked on the song, even asking for your input at times.
That's why, when the song was finally done and released on 3racha's Spotify account, you decided to celebrate by baking him a cake. You may have dropped an eggshell in the batter (you recovered it later on), and the icing's color turned out less vibrant than what you hoped for. But you managed to adorn it with a garden of little flowers, and with store-bought icing, you wrote the words "after the rain flowers will bloom again."
You showed up to the dorm and Changbin pointed you to Han's room, where he had apparently been holed up all day. You shot him a grateful smile, before pushing the door open with your foot.
"What are you doing here?" Han asked, an incredulous smile drawn on his lips.
"Surprise!" you grinned, pushing the cake his way. "Congrats on making Secret Secret."
"Are you serious?" he chuckled, jumping out of his bed. He peered at the cake, eyes softening as he gazed down at the design.
"You drew a little garden..." he whispered in awe and you nodded, a faint blush creeping up your face.
"I'm glad you recognized what it was. I'm not the best baker," you admit a bit shyly but he shook his head. "It's perfect. I can't believe you did this to celebrate our baby!"
"Your baby," you corrected, although the use of 'our' warmed up your chest, weirdly enough.
"You were here with me every step of the way. She's ours."
"It's a she?" you giggled, and he smiled proudly.
"Mm. Do you accept being her mother?" he mused; hands clasped in front of his heart like he was praying you'd say yes.
"It would be my greatest honor," you nodded solemnly, and he let out a breathy chuckle, grabbing the cake from your hands and setting it on his bed.
"Should we hug it out?" he teased, arms stretched wide but you merely stared at him, unimpressed.
"Come on," he whined, "you can't reject me for the third time. And, in front of our child. On her birthday!" his tone grew louder and you couldn't help but giggle at his mock outrage.
"Try harder."
"Our child won't know what a loving parent relationship is and then she'll seek out unhealthy love from the ones around her and-" you cut him off by finally wrapping your arms around him.
You've always known that being near Han left you breathless, but this time, it felt as though he was breathing life into you. You close your eyes instinctively, as his hold tightens on you. He smells immensely nice, like pinewood and soap. You should've hugged him sooner.
"Thank you," he said quietly, forehead pressed against your shoulder blade.
"You did well," you whisper back.
"We did. She's our child, remember?" he reprimanded and you laughed faintly.
"Yeah, ours."
Hours later, the movie's credits finally roll down, and the finished cake sits idly by Han's desk.
"I should go," you rub your eyes tiredly, and Han stares at you as if you are out of your mind.
"At this hour? Do you want our kid to lose her mom?"
"Han," you drawl, hitting his head with the pillow next to you. "You can't hold me hostage."
"I can, as your husband."
"Since when are we married?"
"Since you agreed to be Secret's mother." Another playful hit to his face.
"Stop attacking my face, how will I get laid then?"
"So, you are cheating on me?" you ask, feigning outrage.
"I'm sorry, I'm sorry baby you're the only one I want." You falter at the nickname before hitting him even harder, matching the tempo of your quickening heartbeat.
"You're crazy," he laughs, grabbing your wrists and pinning you onto the bed. He's hovering over you, eyes hooded with a tender intensity as he gazes down at you.
"Will you stay, please?"
"The couch is uncomfortable," you reply, avoiding his eyes. He lets go of one wrist before holding your chin gently, urging you to look at him.
"You can sleep here. We've done it before."
"You were freezing both times. That's why I did it."
"I'm very cold tonight," he pouts, eliciting a surprised chuckle from you.
"Are you now?"
"Very much so."
"Fine. Only because I don't want you to die from hypothermia."
"Thank you!" he grins excitedly, finally letting go of your wrist. You bring a hand to your flushed cheeks, as he tosses a t-shirt and a pair of sweatpants in your direction.
"Get changed! There is a spare toothbrush in the cabinet."
You make sure to groan theatrically, before heading into the bathroom, where you splash your face repeatedly with water. You aren't used to this- being a blushy mess, because of Han, nonetheless. It was dizzying you, how things took the complete opposite turn between you and him.
At least, back then you weren't alone in your hate, you couldn't stand being alone in your affection.
So, you'd stop this, whatever feeling that's coursing through you. Tomorrow, you will firmly close the door on the blooming feelings within you. But tonight, you’d both lay on the same bed, arms brushing against one another. It's completely dark and quiet, but there is an entire symphony playing within you.
"Thank you for today," he whispers, turning around and tucking his arm under his head, this way he's facing you.
You mirror his actions, and your fingertips brush against one another. You can't see him but you can feel him. He's everywhere, wrapping around all your senses. 
"Thank you for making this song. It's very comforting to me."
"Why is that?" he questions, inching closer to you, you can feel his minty breath fan all over your face.
"I’ve always felt like I carried too many emotions within me. Like a volcano, bubbling over until the day I explode. I never liked feeling this way, so I tried to hide it," you confess softly.
"Like a secret secret."
"Like a secret secret," you repeat, glad that he understands.
"You don't have to hide with me," he says after a few silent beats, and you swallow nervously.
"I know." you lick your lips as the music inside you grows louder. "Still cold?"
"A little."
"Come closer," you beckon, and he complies instantly, wrapping his arm behind your back and drawing your chest close to his. Your legs entangle with one another, as your face lays on the crook of his neck. It's intimate, far more than any time you've done it before. You don't want to sink in his hold in fear of never resurfacing again.
"Good?" he asks, voice tinged with a newfound raspiness. 
"Mm," you hum, and he releases a relieved sigh.
You've once read that everything in this universe sings. Every atom's vibration creates a sound, contributing to a grand celestial chorus. It's an unscientific, but lovely thought, to wonder who our hearts sing for.
Right now, it's for Han.
☄༄
The music echoes through your being, an ever-present melody that refuses to fade into silence. Even with no audience to enjoy it.
Han always found his way back to your side, no matter how many times you've tried to distance yourself from him. And you couldn't bring yourself to refuse him, because you were friends, first and foremost. And friends don't abandon one another just because a mere glance at them sprouts a blush across your cheeks. 
That's how you find yourself on your way to Han's dorm, for the third time that week. Watching movies together has become your little tradition, for the past few months, and sometimes even Chan joins in. Although he mostly enjoys shooting you a knowing smile, to which you flip him off.
Your phone rings and Han's name illuminates your screen. You smile against your will.
"Can't wait to see me this much?" you singsong and Han's chuckle rings through the phone. It's rich and deep, causing you to tighten your hold on the device.
"Yes. And can you please go to the store? I'm out of snacks."
"What do I get out of it?" you muse, changing directions to the nearest convenience store.
"Snacks."
"Asshole," you giggle on your way to cross the road.
"And my eternal gratitude of course."
"Right, because I can't-" Loud tires screech right beside you and you startle, letting out a loud yelp as you drop your phone.
A hand on top of your heart, you bend down to pick up your fallen device, as the driver gets out of the car that grazed your body, mere inches away from hitting you. 
"Are you okay, miss? I'm sorry I didn't see you." The middle-aged man is quick to your side, and you glance at the small kid in his car, willing yourself to calm down for their sake.
"I'm fine. Just a bit startled. Drive more slowly, there is a kid with you."
"I know, I'm sorry," he drags a hand through his stressed features and you couldn't help but feel sympathy for him. "It's okay, don't worry about it. Just pay more attention to the road, okay?"
"Thank you so much. Thank you," he clasps his hand in gratitude before getting back to his car and you wave him off, your heart still wildly beating in your chest.
You head into the convenience store, picking up the snacks you know Han loves before paying for them. But as soon as you step back outside, you spot a disheveled Han crossing the road, sprinting toward the store. His pace quickens upon spotting you.
"What are you..." your question is cut short as his arms wrap around you, pulling you to his chest instantly. You can feel the frantic rhythm of his heart, and you're confused as he pulls away, hands cradling your cheeks and turning your face left and right.
"You're alright, nothing happened to you, right? You’re okay?" he inquires urgently and you let out a confused giggle, as you grab his arm to steady him.
"What are you talking about?"
"I heard the tires screech and you yelled and then you didn't pick up when I called and I thought-" his voice cracks. "I thought something happened to you."
"No, no. I'm okay. Nothing happened, I promise." you reassure, as he brings you to his chest once again, his hand smoothing the top of your hair.
"I was so scared," he kisses your temple, as his thumping heart resounds within your chest. "So terrified that something would happen to you. I thought I'd lose my mind."
"You don't mean that," you shake your head slowly, peeling yourself away from him.
"Can you really not see how much I care about you? How I crave being near you?" his voice raises a slight octave. The music in you picks up.
"How long do I have to pretend to be cold to have you nearby? For god's sake, I'm never cold around you, yn. When I see you, I ignite." He takes in a deep breath, pressing his forehead onto your shoulder. "And I... I couldn't have lived with myself if something happened to you. I... You drive me crazy, Yn. When we became friends it felt like I was stepping inside a home for the first time, and yet I already knew each turn in it."
He grabs your arms, shaking you slightly as his chest heaves up and down. "My darkness recognizes yours and my light is you and you- you think I wouldn't care if anything happened to you?"
He shakes his head as tears prickle in the corners of his eyes. Has his music always been this loud, were you just not listening properly?
"I'm scared because we didn't start well and I understand if a part of your heart still resents me, I do. But I don't think I can pretend anymore. Not with you," his voice softens as his gaze locks on yours.
"Were you pretending too?" He asks, hope dripping from his tone. "Do you feel it too?"
A split second goes by. A candle flickering somewhere. A dandelion plucked from the ground. The shadow of a cloud passing over the sun- and you pick.
"I feel it too. So much that my heart feels like it’s singing for you, Han."
"I'll sing for it in return," he whispers, before crashing his lips onto yours. His hand slides up the back of your neck, drawing you closer. You drop the bags of groceries as you cradle his cheeks, feeling them warm up beneath your touch. You can't believe you've ever disliked your heart for feeling too much, not when the lovely emotions flowing in your heart threaten to burst it at the seams, submerging you in a warmth you've never known before- Han. 
Two months later
You have 3 new messages from: hannie
"kept this song a secret from you baby but i wrote it for you so you can't be mad"
"i don't know if you remember but you’ve once told me that you are a volcano. as if that’s something that’s supposed to put me off. well, some people dedicate their lives to studying volcanos. and i would dedicate mine to learning you."
"Volcano.mp3."
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3K notes · View notes
coryosbaby · 2 months
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Give It To Me .
Dark! Luke Castellan x nymph! Reader
Content warning . Non-con, minor predator/prey themes, squirting
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You sigh as your toes are enveloped in cold, crystal clear water. Making your way into the pond, you’re thankful none of the other nymphs had followed you here.
Sure, it’s fun to swim with the others. At camp Half Blood, you’ve made a lot of new friends that are just as appreciative of the earth as you. But sometimes you need a moment to yourself— a moment with nature and its elements.
Your clothes are discarded— this is your hiding spot deep in the forest, after all. It’d be a wonder if someone found it. It’s as if it was made just for you.
You spend a great deal of time in the waves, resting against a giant boulder peeking out of the water, relishing in the cool breeze moving through. You giggle at the fish tickling your ankles because they’re always quite fond of you.
You enjoy your swim so much that for a second you don’t hear the sound of another.
It’s the noise of a belt buckle clinking that makes you turn your head towards the shore. You peek out over the surface of the water, and on the shore you see the figure of a tall male.
He seems to be going for a swim. He peels his shirt off, then slips his jeans down to his ankles and throws them on the ground somewhere behind him. He steps into the water, slow, emitting a small sigh as it envelopes him. He wades forward and then relaxes against the waves.
Your eyes glaze over.
You want to move. Your body stays behind the rock , however, to admire him for a moment more.
He’s an interesting half blood. Not like the others— older, with dark, raven like hair, pretty doe eyes, and a very fit body. He’s incredibly handsome, and something tugs in your chest.
You move by instinct, and it makes a splash. Your body freezes up in fear. The boy whirls around, surprised by the sound of another ounce of life in the empty pond. You peek over, praying he doesn’t see you as he makes his way towards the rock.
But to no avail. His eyes catch yours, then, and a feeling like butterfly wings twirls in your tummy.
“I thought I was the only one here.”
You struggle to say something to him, the shock of being caught and the attractiveness of his voice washing over you. He doesn’t seem to mind your timidness, and reaches out his hand.
“I’m Luke.”
Luke. Where had you heard that before? You can’t be sure.
Your much smaller hand falls into his, and your arm erupts into goose flesh. His lips part beautifully—demigod charm.
“You’re a nymph, aren’t you?” He continues. “I’ve seen girls like you in the lake… never back here.”
“Yes,” you reply, in almost a mere whisper. “I’m sorry. I was just.. I’m shy, that’s all.”
He chuckles, both hands running through his hair. Water droplets stick to his forehead.
“Shy. Not shy enough to have a shirt on, though.”
You flush when his eyes drop down to your naked chest. Your hair covers your breasts, but that doesn’t make it any less revealing.
“No one ever comes back here.” you stutter out, embarrassed.
“But I did.”
You don’t know what he means by that. His head tilts, and his body moves closer to you. Your back hits the rock, your chest heaving. “I know nymphs are supposed to be pretty. But I’ve never seen one as beautiful as you.”
Your stomach tangles into knots, from nerves or arousal you aren’t sure.
“Oh,” you breathe out. He chuckles before looking around behind you.
“There isn’t anyone else here, is there?”
You shake your head, and you feel a bit queasy. Regretful, too, for revealing such a thing. Had your stranger danger warnings from your peers taught you nothing?
Something in the boy’s demeanor has changed, and you think that maybe he isn’t your handsome prince after all.
And looking at the scar across his eye, you finally remember who he is— Luke, son of Hermes. A counselor from Cabin Eleven. You had never spoken to him before— it’s a big camp, after all— but his wandering eyes whenever you were near seemed to be filled with lust. You had just toned it down to a weird crush.
How did you not register it before?
You don’t know, and as of right now you don’t care. You begin to move away to the shoreline, where your dress lays haphazardly on the sand.
Something clicks in your head — How could Luke think he was alone if your clothes were there? — and you decide that you really shouldn’t be here. Not near this pond, and especially not near him. Your relaxing day has just turned awry.
“Where are you going?” Luke calls to you, and you begin to move faster. You could care less if your underwear is exposed to him as you finally get to the shore. Your hands nervously fumble with your dress.
“Just… I forgot I had somewhere to be!”
“Where?”
You jump, turning around to see him behind you. His body drips with water and his hair is plastered to his forehead.
“Oh, you know..” you chuckle nervously, a shudder running through you. You avoid eye contact as you slip the dress over your damp body. “Just— nymph stuff.”
“Nymph stuff?” He questions. The way he says it is almost accusingly, as if you aren’t allowed to lie to him. His eyes are dark, his demeanor tense. He walks towards you, and your heart beats out of your chest.
You begin to run.
You don’t know why. It’s maybe—probably— instinct. But you don’t make it far. Not even a few feet. Luke takes after you, and before you can even move off of the sand and onto the grass he’s got you pinned underneath him. A terrified squeak makes its way through you, and you squirm in his grip. He grabs you by the neck and pushes you down into the sand.
“Stop fucking moving,” he growls, fumbling with his belt. “You dumb slut.“
You cry, your bottom lip wobbling. His cock hangs out of his underwear, heavy and thick. Your eyes widen to the size of saucers.
“Luke, please! No, no—“
“Shut up,” he groans out, wrapping a hand around his shaft. Your thighs clench together against your own accord. His other hand flips up the hem of your dress and exposes your wet panties to the open air, and he yanks those down, too. All the while, your heart thuds like a scared rabbit and your legs flail against him.
He pulls your thighs apart, and you whimper weakly.
“Oh, fuck,” Luke’s fingers play with your slit, soaking with something more than water despite your protests. “prettiest pussy I’ve ever seen.”
His tongue runs along his bottom lip as he pulls away, his hand going to one side of your head, the other moving down to position himself at your entrance. Your body relaxes against its own will, giving up on fighting. He’s extremely strong, definitely skilled in taking his opponents down. There would be no use.
Your eyes water as he sheathes himself in you. White hot heat courses through your veins, shock on your face as he pushes in to the hilt. You can’t do anything but lay there, frozen.
Luke lets out a grunt, his face resting in the crook of your neck as he begins to move. The smell of lake water and shampoo permeates your senses as you unintentionally bury your nose in his curls and sharply inhale. Your arms wrap around his big shoulders and you let out a salacious cry.
He slaps his hand over your mouth, his voice as venomous as a snake’s.
“Don’t you dare get us caught,” he warns, a low chuckle coming out of his mouth when you clench around him. “Dirty fucking girl. I bet you want that, don’t you? I bet you want everyone to see what I do to you. How much of a desperate bitch you are for me.”
You shake your head aggressively. He smiles.
Turning your head to the side, you see the expanse of the woods and the lake before your eyes flutter shut in pleasure. He hits a spongey spot inside you that has your toes curling, and he watches every movement — the way your face contorts in pleasure, your body taking over the rejection in your mind. The way your wetness leaves a white, creamy ring around the base of his cock. The way that everytime he touches that spot, your legs shake and quiver.
He fucks into it over and over, rutting into your like an animal, hammering his aching dick against your walls and making you see stars.
You should feel guilt, disgust. But he’s so heavy on top of you, and it’s hard to breathe, and his hands are coming down to your clit and— fuck, you’re going to cum.
It happens quickly. You don’t even fathom what happens before your orgasm washes over you, but your vision whites out and you seize up. Back arching, you let out a desperate mewl as liquid gushes out of your abused cunt. Luke, noticing with furrowed brows and his mouth agape, pulls out of you to slip his fingers inside instead. The digits slide in easily, coated in wetness, as he begins to thrust them in and out. The slick sound of your release sets your face on fire.
“Fuck yes,” Luke groans, and he sounds pained. “Give it to me, princess. That’s it, that’s the stuff…”
Rubbing at your clit, he helps you ride out your orgasm, drawing out more of your release. His fingers go up to his mouth, and he slides them over his tongue. He whines, positioning himself back over your pussy, his hand jerking off his own dick.
“Gonna cum all over you,” he grunts, arousal pooling over his fist. “Shit, ‘m gonna...”
His head tilts back, and he lets out a deep moan as he releases all over your bare pussy. Your hole clenches desperately when you feel his warm spend hit it, sticky and wet. His big hand splays across your thigh and digs crescent moons into it as he rides out his high with a shaky quiver of your name.
You lay motionless, his cum drying against your cunt as he comes down. He still holds your legs in his hands—as if you could go anywhere, at this point. As if he hadn’t just fucked you dumb.
He strokes the skin of your thighs, his breath bordering on a sigh.
“This’ll be our little secret,” he says softly.“Yeah, baby? Promise you won’t tell?”
It may sound sugary sweet, but underneath it all the sentence is incredibly threatening.
Sweaty and hot, you weakly nod. He gives a pleased, predatory smile that shakes you to the core.
“That’s my girl.”
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ghostlyfleur · 3 months
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𝑠𝑤𝑒𝑒𝑡.
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steve harrington x fem!reader
summary: the sweet progression of steve and his pretty girl’s relationship.
warnings: tooth-rotting fluff, idiots in love, oblivious!reader, shy!reader, inexperienced!reader. pet names (angel, baby, flower girl, pretty girl, princess, sweet girl). 18+ mdni, smut-adjacent. world building.
word count: ~4.5k
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pre-relationship—
steve’s girl friend is a soft spoken, remarkably sweet, gentle soul. she’s shy, way too anxious, so inexperienced that she comes off as innocent. her wardrobe consists of flowy skirts and flowery dresses and soft sweaters and cozy knits, puts flowers in her hairdos like interwoven in braids or tucked in a half-up half-down mess, has this ethereal vibe to the makeup she likes to wear (ie. shimmery eyeshadow in soft colors, highlighter, sparkly lipgloss, white waterline pencil, fairy wing eyeliner designs, and slightly blushy cheeks), wears silver wire-framed glasses at home when not using contacts and steve thinks it brings out her gorgeous eyes even more. she always wears pretty dangly earrings with flowers, her nails painted with glitter nail polish or neutral soft colors, and steve thinks she’s an angel.
the rest of the people in town mostly think her to be weird and unapproachable, with the way she stops mid walk to crouch down and whisper softly to a ladybug she sees on the sidewalk, or when she accidentally bumps into a street pole and yells out a panicked ‘sorry!’ as if she would hear a reply back.
when steve first met his girl, he was enchanted.
she was so soft and beautiful and kind, but also very anxious; something he noticed the first time she walked into scoops ahoy, and steve was so excited to finally talk to the pretty girl that started working at the flower shop down the block that he’s been pining for. the pretty girl’s reaction to his flirting however was of shyness, nervousness, and seemingly scared silence… so steve decided to make a fool out of himself just to see her smile. it was worth it. steve felt as if her laughter was the equivalent of the skies opening up to let sunshine peak through dark clouds. they eased their way into each other’s lives after that. his girl started seeking him out, finding comfort and safety in his presence and caregiving personality, though remaining clueless of his feelings and just how much robin teased him for being a smitten fool.
“pretty flower girl” is how steve referred to her at the beginning, all heart eyes and dreamy sighs. working at a flower shop seems to fit her so entirely, like she’s in her own little world while surrounded by flora. she’s able to tell you the meanings, both positive and negative, of any flower imaginable, of different plants too! keeps a log book and a journal to track her flora friends’ growth, pressed flowers and polaroid pictures of different bouquets, photographs each beautiful arrangement she creates in a picture album.
her home is also completely taken over by pots and plants and gardens and hanging vines, secrets whispered to them while she waters her little friends as needed, full conversations kept that seem to make all the plants bloom and flourish even more. lots of natural light comes in from the many windows of her cabin, surrounded by greenery and trees and a small pond that wild animals often visit, knowing her safe haven is also a safe haven for any animals. the place always smells like whatever she’s baking, the decor homey and filled with crystals and incense and hand painted mugs and vases. greens, yellows, oranges, and tan colors. books balanced on any available surface.
she becomes steve’s girl best friend, and he loves her so much. worships her, really. steve makes it his mission to spoil and love his pretty girl, even if he hides it behind silly flirting and the pretense of friendship.
whenever they’re together, steve and his girl are all the other sees. the gang has a little bet on who will break first, steve or his flower girl.
her sit is always his lap.
steve swears off other girls as soon as he meets her.
he is very affectionate towards her, and she loves to kiss his cheeks.
they often have sleepovers just the two of them.
they’re so close they can just exist together and be at peace.
she’s so supportive of him too, always praising him and hyping him up.
steve is overprotective of her.
whenever one goes the other sure follows.
see, steve’s girl is so sweet on him it drives robin crazy. because robin knows the feelings are reciprocated, but she also knows both steve and his girl enough to know she needs to let them figure this out by themselves. it doesn’t mean robin isn’t their number one fan, though.
steve’s pretty girl bakes him sweets often to bring to him at work to “make your day a little easier, stevie”, she brings him flowers from her job that steve learns to preserve in his room, she gives him her favorite ring that he never takes off. but steve also does little things for his sweet girl— takes care of her and buys her chocolate because it makes her so happy and giddy he falls a little more in love each time. he also reminds her to drink water, buys her favorite snacks for movie night or when she’s on her period, takes her to the movies, drives her everywhere (because she’s his pretty passenger princess) to have some extra time with her.
oh! steve’s girl also has a bunch of homemade gifts that she keeps in a small glass trunk in her home because she’s too shy to give them to her stevie— handmade bracelets, handmade wire rings, pretty things she finds at thrift stores that remind her of her pretty boy, handmade necklaces, small gifts with pressed flowers, letters she writes down because she feels so deeply for her sweet boy that she needs to let it out somehow, and a bunch of other small gifts that she hopes one day she can give to her stevie to show him how much she loves him.
she’s so lovely to her stevie without even realizing, though. she’s demiromantic, you see, and after becoming friends with steve she started to slowly fall for him. the thing is, she knew very well what was happening, she’s very in tune to her emotions, and she fell for him willingly! whereas steve fell for her fast and kept falling.
imagine his girl never had her first kiss… she’s so inexperienced and her sweet persona and gentle demeanor make her seem like the softest person ever. steve is so mesmerized by her.
he flirts with her and is sweet to her and devotes his time to her and spoils her rotten and gives her kisses and hugs and cuddles and all the love he has to give— steve quickly decided that even if they’re ‘just friends’ he’ll still treat her like his princess, give her everything he can and shower her in his adoration until she catches up. and even then, even when it’s so obvious that steve is in love with her, that he blushes and stutters and gets flustered only for her, that he shows her every day just how much he loves her, she remains oblivious.
in her pov, she knows she’s in love with her stevie so she’s going to treat him like the most precious person in her world. which he is. the thing is that she gives him all of her love without ever once considering that he might return it, even as he flirts and quite literally says he’s hers and she’s his all the time, it never even crosses her mind to actually believe it. maybe because she’s trying to protect herself from heartbreak. she just decides that her stevie deserves the world so she’s going to give him all she can.
but she’s so soft with him! holds his face between her hands when talking to him sometimes like she’s holding her whole world on her hands, presses kisses to his cheeks all the time, gives him hugs. she always compliments him, isn’t afraid of telling him exactly what’s on her mind…
“you look so pretty, stevie”
“i’m so proud of you.”
“i missed you lots today!”
“i saw this cute puppy and it reminded me of you ‘cause you’re just as cute!”
“i always prefer your company.”
flower girl is the most adorable sight steve has ever seen! she pouts so prettily whenever she doesn’t get the attention she wants from him, all soft lips and furrowed brows and plush cheeks crossed arms, and steve just wants to pepper kisses all over her face.
her love languages:
she bakes him cookies ; buys him things that remind her of her stevie ; plans these cute little “friend” outings that feel more like dates ; she’s never lacking in her affections though she’s very timid and shy when it happens ; will defend him no matter what ; makes sure to always praise him ; she gets all cranky if someone insults him even playfully ; she’s very shy so she often hides her face on his chest or neck and it makes his heart flutter ; she helps him babysit bc the kids love her ; she gave her stevie a special arrangement of flowers that she created just for him plus a little booklet of pictures of the two of them together that also had pressed flowers on it for his birthday ; she checks in with him every day even if they don’t see each other to make sure her stevie is doing okay ; will stay on the phone with him all night especially if he had a nightmare or a fight with his parents.
where steve’s best friend is all cute and pouty and sweet and clingy and loving but only to her stevie!!!!! and she’s a bit ditzy— talks to animals and plants and inanimate objects like they can answer her, her thoughts jump from one thing to another but steve always entertains her, she skips instead of waking a lot, she dresses all cute and coquette and always has glitter on her somewhere, she gives steve handmade gifts all the time with this shy little smile and blushing and sometimes when the gift is specially meaningful she’ll run away as soon as he accepts it 🥺 she trips over her own feet a lot too!!! so steve has to grip her waist to help her find her footing!!! and it makes her break out in goosebumps!!! and steve is so in love with her, with her ramblings and midnight ice cream cravings and true crime rants and the way she talks about murder and psychopath profiling and laughs at horror movies and has crystals and tarot cards and wants to befriend ghosts, how she gives her stevie little glass bottles with protection spells or anti-anxiety spells or how she always needs to hear his voice before bed.
and she’s so pretty and soft and kind and nice and laughs a lot and everyone loves her— but she never notices how so many people flirt with her, and never notices whenever steve scares possible suitors away, because really she only sees steve!!!!!! and it makes him crazy to see how she blatantly ignores anyone and everyone to focus on him!!!!!
but then one day steve’s girl starts feeling sad and heartbroken because she’s convinced herself that steve still loves nancy so she starts pulling away a little and steve doesn’t understand what he did wrong! robin has to spell it out for him that his girl thinks he still wants nancy when that couldn’t be further from the truth; steve now knows he’s never truly been in love before, not like he is with his angel, and that it was his angel that showed him he deserves someone who loves him just as much as he loves them. therefore, steve does his best to find ways to tell his girl that nancy is in the past, that she has nothing to worry about, but he has to do so while him and his angel aren’t together yet so he slowly breached the subject until he can figure out where his girl stands, if he can make a move, if she’s interested in him too, y’know? like those conversations filled with a deeper meaning and both parties trying to drop hints about their feelings but they’re still too hesitant to be more clear in their affections. for now.
imagine steve spoiling her and making her all giddy and happy and shy and giggly :( i want steve to treat his baby like royalty way before they even get together :( i wanna read about their first kiss and how it makes steve’s knees buckle and how she’s so giggly because it’s her first kiss and he tells her he wants to marry her right then and there and she tells him she never ever would consider being with anyone but her stevie :(
after they get together—
their first kiss happens in what steve considers to be the best night of his life to date.
it was halloween, and he was slightly nervous about going to the fair with not only the kids and robin and eddie, but his girl too. the year before, he stayed in with his angel and robin watching movies and eating junk, which was the perfect night ‘cause he got to cuddle his girl, but last halloween he went out to celebrate didn’t end up being very enjoyable for him… what with having your now-ex call you bulshit, bullshit, bullshit.
however, this is his girl he’s talking about. while it wasn’t a date, simply a hangout with their friend group, steve still considers his girl, well… his. and the fact she insisted on meeting them there herself had him slightly on edge.
she was dressed as a fairy.
steve has never seen anyone as pretty, as mesmerizing. and the way she treated this night, treated him, was driving steve crazy.
first, once she meets everyone at the entrance of the amusement park they agreed to go to, she insists on paying for both herself and steve. literally grabs steve’s wallet from his hand and only gives it back after she pays.
he, of course, only really allows it because she gives him her — in steve’s opinion illegal — pouty puppy eyes that she knows steve can’t say no to.
afterwards, once they all enter and the kids disperse to the various entertainment with the agreement of meeting up later to eat, steve’s girl drags him away from robin and eddie, who were both sporting knowing grins, to a shooting booth where she proceeds to win, suspiciously easily might he add, a stuffed frog for him.
and then she grabs his hand. albeit hesitantly, but she does. intertwining their fingers and everything.
the entire night was a dream for steve, and unbeknownst to him, for his girl too. she had a plan, you see. his angel was pulling out all the stops, even if she was shy and blushy the whole time— paying for the tickets for both of them was number one. followed by winning steve a stuffed animal, holding his hand, sharing fried oreos and cotton candy (again, paid by her), and going to the photobooth. the ferris wheel would be last, but it’s what happens inside the photobooth that matters.
once inside, steve made sure she was sat on his lap. she payed again. the pictures go a little something like this:
1st pic steve is laughing and she’s looking at him like he’s her dream come true which he is / 2nd pic she pushes forward not being able to wait any longer and quickly presses her lips to his a bit messily / 3rd pic is her looking all flustered and shy and doe-eyed while steve has this dazed look in his eyes and his jaw is dropped / 4th pic is steve grabbing her cheeks and kissing her fully, brows furrowed and all.
steve steals another kiss at the top of the ferris wheel, it was giggling and smiling more than kissing, though.
on the drive home, angel makes a stop at their self-assigned star gazing spot where she officially asks steve to be her boyfriend, all flustered and timid but oh so hopeful. another kiss, a resounding “yes” from her sweet boy, and dropping him off with a quick goodnight kiss ends the night, and steve has never been happier.
the fact she planned this whole night, took a chance, romanced the hell out of him, and was so genuine the whole time, looking to make him smile, just because, had steve on a high unlike any other. no one has ever taken the time to spoil him, to do romantic things for him. he’s not used to reciprocity in relationships, but here this angel is professing her love for him and not only saying it but showing him she means it. best night of his life.
and so their relationship begins.
steve harrington just worships his girl, spoils her continuously, and wants to do everything for her. he is overly affectionate and just obsessed with his baby, pictures of her and with her everywhere on his house, his car, his wallet, maybe even a locket he wears with a copy of the picture of their first kiss on it. steve took the photobooth strip and got the second picture, his angel kissing him for the first time, copied and altered to fit into the locket.
everyone in town just knows steve is entirely whipped and he does not care. he is definitely touch starved for his girl, quite a bit jealous, however, but trusts her so much that it just comes out as a sort of possessiveness that isn’t toxic but something both he and, secretly, his angel enjoy. steve always praises her and wants to take care of her because she’s his sweet little angel girl.
steve is also her first everything— first kiss, first date, first boyfriend, first time… and it drives him insane! something about knowing he’s the only one that’s ever had her and the only one she’s ever wanted just drives him up the wall and gets him so needy. so desperate. so whiney and pouty.
something else about steve as a boyfriend is that he’s his angel’s biggest fan — always praising, always encouraging, always in awe of her. will brag about his baby to anyone. randomly brings her up in conversation because she’s all he thinks about and he’s so proud to be hers.
buying her flowers whenever he can so she’ll give him this wide, square smile of hers that takes over her whole face like she can’t control it and her nose scrunches up a bit and he never wants to look at anything but her.
her stevie is really into pda too, can’t take his hands off of her, but nothing extreme; casual touches and pecks on her nose or temple or lips or cheeks, buries his face in her neck often, hand holding constantly!!!!!!, plays with her hair, is always playing with the delicate ‘s’ pendant on her neck that he gifted her and she never takes off (steve has this proud little smile whenever he messes with it).
then there’s the casual dominance— steve tucks her hair behind her ears, ties her shoelaces for her, adjusts the clasp of her necklace, puts her dainty jewelry on for her, braids her hair because she’s always clumsy with it and she prefers his braids over hers, gives her water so she stays hydrated, remembers her meds for her, adjusts her beanie on her hair when it’s cold and she’s wearing one, wipes chocolate from the corner of her mouth because his baby is a messy eater, pulls on her waist when they’re walking so she doesn’t bump into someone or something because she’s too busy talking and looking at him, spoon feeds her when she’s too tired and sleepy and pouty, brushes her teeth for her too when she’s being his cute little tired baby or is in subspace, brushing her hair and treating her like a little doll, his little doll, and loves to shower with her so he can do it for her, loves to drive her everywhere too. she’s his pretty passenger princess and they both take that role very seriously.
and whenever his pretty baby gets all glassy eyed and needy and blushy for him? he melts.
steve has a daddy kink. major one. and when he finally finds his baby, his person, he starts noticing things she might be into for the sole reason of wanting to be the absolute best he can be for his baby. the thing is, he knows she’s entirely new to this and still a bit nervous and hesitant and shy, so he starts by filing things away in his brain to make sure once she’s ready and the time comes that he can treat her perfectly, and give her everything and anything she wants.
his baby is probably a sub, she must be, with how pliable and soft she gets. for sure has an oral fixation, always giving him little kisses and little bites randomly and pressing his hand to her lips so she can softly mouth at them (but will shy away and get flustered when she notices she’s doing this) (she just loves his hands and he knows). steve’s girl also gets all flustered and her breath hitches when he jokingly calls himself ‘daddy’, so he takes that as a good sign because there’s nothing steve wants more in this world than to be her daddy. only hers. to spoil and care for and love his baby to the best of his ability.
she also loves when he manhandles her, he’s noticed— it’s just that steve really enjoys carrying his baby around, loves feeling needed and loves holding her and having her body pressed to his and have her hold on to him, but also he just wants to do things for his baby, doesn’t want her to tire herself out, ever!
she doesn’t need to walk around all the time because her stevie’s here and he won’t have his baby do unnecessary work when he’s around. whenever he grabs her waist and places her on top of a counter or something and stands between her legs? she gets all smiley. steve also absolutely loves how clearly his touch affects her; she hums and melts into him and gets a bit breathless and just tries to bury herself into him until they become one. lots of cuddles and hugs from behind and just being entirely wrapped in each other while wearing the coziest sweaters under the cuddliest blanket are common occurrences.
the main thing, though… is how steve’s shy little girlfriend quickly becomes obsessed with his bulge. loves when her stevie hugs her from behind so it presses against her, or when he has her sit between his legs with her back to his chest, or any time where her stevie is holding her close. he doesn’t even need to be hard for her to enjoy it, i mean, he shows through his jeans even when he’s soft! and she just always thinks it looks so…soft? and chubby? and she just wants it smushed against her at all times.
it takes steve a while to figure it out, but when he does? he’s relentless! pressing up against his baby all. the. fucking. time. just to see her blush and stutter and get all shy… but she also fucking sighs and relaxes whenever he does it, like it’s such a comfort for her? to feel all of him? like it’s all she’s waiting for at all times. and it drives steve crazy how his cute, shy, introverted, virgin girlfriend who giggles all the time and is always flustered by him and hiding her hot cheeks with her hands and is so… clumsy and tentative and nervous when it comes to any sort of affection (which she only accepts from her stevie) ((she definitely hates touch except his)) (((and he knows it too! was one of the things that proved to him his pretty best friend had feelings for him too when they were ‘just friends’))) can be so desperate to feel his bulge against her.
angel also loves that her stevie boy has huge hands! absolutely massive. could-wrap-one-hand-around-your-entire-neck massive, beautiful, strong, soft hands.. and yeah, both steve and his girl definitely have huge size kinks. huge. they haven’t said so out loud yet, but it shows through their actions. steve loves how obvious the size difference is when they’re holding hands, or when his hand is on her soft thighs. most of the time his baby holds his fingers instead because it hurts a little bit to intertwine their fingers for too long and steve thinks it’s fucking adorable. she’s shorter too, so 😵‍💫 her sweet boy goes crazy. teasing, best friend steve comes out sometimes too when he uses her head as an armrest to tease her, or when he full on picks her up to take her somewhere if she’s being a brat or is too lazy, too tired to move.
steve’s angel loves their size difference. so much. it shows when she hides herself against his chest when it’s cold, when she compares hand sizes because “stevie, the difference is just insane!”, when steve smushes her into the mattress when they start fucking later on. steve notices his angel blush or sigh or break out in goosebumps whenever his hands are involved— i mean, can you blame her? his hands are so pretty. she’s always holding and touching and tracing her fingertips over his palms and pressing kisses, biting softly, sucking on his fingers when she’s restless, fidgety, or sleepy.
using steve as a weighted blanket is a must; helps angel when she’s anxious or having a bad day.
to be continued…
── harmo’s footnotes:
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masterlist. steve dreams.
ghostlyfleur © — all rights reserved. do not repost, copy, or translate.
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nsharks · 3 months
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bleeding blue | apocalypse au
part fifteen —other parts
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pairing: Simon "Ghost" Riley x fem!reader words: 3.7k tags: death. blood. cannibalism mention. zombies of course. AFAB reader. single dad ghost. there will be sex but it isn't here yet. slow burn!!! enemies to lovers. summary: After losing your companions, you run into a skull-masked man and his daughter. They are your last hope for survival.
Pearly sunlight weaves through the trees, casting freckles across the calm current of the creak. Somewhere, a raven bleats loudly, but your ears block out the sound. The skin between your brows wrinkles with concentration as you tightly grip the wooden makeshift spear, its carved point hovering just above the water.
Numerous fish writhe below you, and your eyes dart between them studiously before finally settling on the meatiest one. With a quick stab, your spear pierces the water's surface, but all it hits is the mucky bottom of the creak. The fish startles with a splash and swims off downstream. 
"Fuck me," you huff, standing up from your squatting position on the rock to soothe the growing ache in your thighs.
Fishing shouldn't be much different than hunting, yet, it's been hours and all you have to show for it is a small chub the size of your palm. With a sigh, you decide your craving for fish isn't worth all this effort and leap off the rock, carrying your measly catch in one hand and spear in the other. Maybe the still waters of the pond could be an easier spot to try someday.
You chose the creak over the pond because it's a greater distance from camp. The longer walk allows you to fixate on the emerald green leaves fluttering in the breeze and the soft chatter of swallows that are returning after their winter migration. Everything is starting to turn into Blue's favorite color. For the first time, you departed the cabin without a jacket, opting for only the long-sleeve tee from Ghost. You had the sleeves rolled to your elbows while fishing, but as you trek back through the wild grasses, you push them down and allow the fabric to brush your knuckles. 
There are hardly any flowers left on the Pink Sorrel after all your foraging. It's a shame they taste so good because the petals are a beautiful fuschia. Arriving at camp, you amble over the plucked stems, bound across the trench with ease, and spot Blue on the other side of the gate offering Grim a wad of grass.
The moment you returned yesterday, she had asked how training with Ghost went. That was quick, she'd observed. Weasling past the rules of your friendship, you gave her a half-lie: He went easy on me this first time. She didn't seem fully convinced that Ghost and 'going easy' belonged in the same sentence together.
"Hey," you greet. "Open the gate for me?"
Grim is given a pet across his back before she leaps up to undo the locks. 
“Hey. How’d it go?” She looks at your near-empty hand. "Fucking noodles. That's it? I thought there were lots of fish there."
"There are. I just suck at catching them."
She gives you an apologetic smile. "Oh— Ghost was looking for you, by the way."
It takes you a moment to respond. "He was?"
"Not sure what for." Her brows furrow. "I'm also not sure where he went. He was here, and then—" Her blue eyes glimmer like water in the sunlight as they shift to something in the distance. "Oh, there he is."
The very person you'd spent hours of alone time trying not to think about arrives as a shadow, lugging what appears to be—you squint—a fucking corpse behind him. Upon closer inspection, it is certainly a body, and with how wonky the limbs look as they drag against the ground, it must be a Grey. That's a little more reassuring, and a lot less bothersome, than if it were a human corpse. 
He drops the corpse in front of the trench, rubs his gloved hands together, and then passes through the parted gate. 
"Is that what you wanted Twix for?" Blue asks, nodding to the Grey.
Ghost explains himself in an even more gruff baritone than usual. "Knew I smelled something." He speaks at you. "I wanted you to check south while I checked north."
"Oh. Sorry," you say lamely and hold up the small chub. "I was, uh, fishing. Looks like you found the source, though. Just one?"
He nods. "Only found one. Could be others so we'll keep an eye out."
"Why did you bring it here?" you ask curiously. 
Blue is the one to answer. "To burn it. Sometimes it seems like they attract each other, haven't you noticed?"
"Right," you grimace. "Blood and rot. Their favorites."
Setting down the catch and spear, you help Ghost gather some wood from the modest pyramid stacked beside the cabin. He nudges the Grey with a booted foot, making it tumble limply into the trench. Starting the fire in there should keep the flames contained.
As you silently place the wood and some kindling over the carcass, your mind is in two places at once. With Ghost right next to you, it's impossible to not think about yesterday; how it felt to be grabbed by him, how he questioned you again about the ammo trip, and how you can't help but detest the thought of him looking at you in pity like he once he did. 
You also think about how much you fucking hate Greys. Christ, they are disgusting. Your fingers accidentally brush against the paper-thin skin that hangs off the bones and a shudder travels up your spine.
Ghost starts the fire with a match and the two of you watch the flames catch, quietly at first— then, they roar through the corpse, quickly turning it black. Bitter smoke intermingles with the crisp spring air and the smell has you coughing into your arm.
Blue has taken it upon herself to avoid the fire, making an audible gagging sound before scooping up Grim. In her absence, you shift from foot to foot, stealing a glance at Ghost. He watches the ash build up and the flames tamper down in mild interest. 
Your fingers curl up into balls, fisting the excess fabric. "Are you worried about more?" you ask him.
It's the first thing you've said to him - actually said to him - since cutting your training short. He loosens a breath and slightly shrugs his broad shoulders. "No. I told you. We never see more than a few at a time." You weren't worried, but if you were, his dismissal of the subject would reassure you. "You should be careful until I finish your bow, though. Unless you're good at throwing knives."
"I'm not," you almost snort, voice no louder than it needs to be. "But Blue is quite good at it. She's been killing squirrels for me."
He hums his response, a low sound that gets lost in the crackle of embers, and you wonder if that's him showing a lack of interest in this kind of conversation with you. With a deep inhale, you change the subject to one you can't ignore.
"Ghost— I want to apologize," you turn to face him, straightening your shoulders. "I wasted your time yesterday. It won't happen again. If we could... give it another try, I would like that."
The smoke is starting to fade. Ghost breaks his gaze from it to study you. You try not to shrink away, wondering what he's thinking. If he feels pity, it's impossible to detect in the dark irises set behind his mask, though, you've never been able to find much of anything in them. 
"You didn't waste my time, Twix. I have an interest in your capabilities." 
"What?" 
"If you're going to be staying here," he elaborates, "—then your strength is of value to me. I'd like to know that if I ask you to do something, you can do it. That if shit happens again, I can rely on you."
"You can," you breathe out. "I am... capable."
"You are," he agrees, looking away. "You're good with a bow. You think quick. But you're still weak, and you doubt yourself." The blunt comments make your brows lower, but you can't help but feel satisfied with the glimpses of approval. "Yesterday was my fault. You weren't ready for it and I should've known that."
"I am ready," you protest, lips parting as you shake your head. "Let me try again. I don't want to be coddled."
"I'm not going to coddle you," he replies in a firm drawl. "I want you stronger first. Let's start there."
“Okay.”
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A hand.
There's a hand on your shoulder, heavy and firm, offering a slight shake. With a gasp, your eyes fly open to darkness, only the white of a skull visible above you, illuminated by a sliver of moonlight. 
"What the hell?" are the first words you sputter, voice harsh and raw from sleep. You grip your throat to clear it. 
He scans your face. "Get up. Come on."
"What? What... what fucking time is it?"
"Almost dawn. Let's go."
It takes a few deep breaths to calm the rush of adrenaline ignited by his abrupt wake-up call. Go where? you think to ask, but instead, you slick a hand through your hair, warily rubbing your eyes to adjust to the lack of light.
Somehow you end up outside, wading through the sprawled-out fog as you follow behind his silhouette, the morning so early and quiet that it would've felt like a dream if not for your crunching footsteps. You braid your into a single, tight braid along the way. With such shitty sleep, you're too out of it to even scowl at his backside, wondering how getting up at this hour will in any way make you stronger. 
The answer is in the two axes he carries and the towering oak tree he stops in front of, your eyes climbing up the height of it before landing back down on Ghost. Your hands are forced out of your coat pockets when an axe is offered to you, fingers curling around the handle and abs tightening from the surprising weight of it.
Confusion rolls around in your gut. Slowly, you ask, "Um. You... want me to cut this thing down?"
"We need more wood after yesterday." He inclines his head and gives a tap of his own axe to the thick trunk. "Good size for you to start with."
"It's huge," you mutter under your breath. "Why do we have to do this so early?"
If there's any reasoning to it at all, he doesn't bother sharing. Rather, he stalks over to another tree about ten meters away. The calm air is soon shattered by the rough sound of metal biting wood as he starts effortlessly cutting the trunk. A large part of you considers dropping the axe and leaving without a word, but you ignore it.
"Alright then," you whisper to yourself. 
It's not the first time you've chopped down a tree. You used to help Paul with it, and truthfully, you're surprised Ghost has never asked you to do chores like this sooner. It's certainly bigger than the skinny, young trees you used to go for, evident in how little of a dent you make with the first swing.
Either you're as weak as Ghost claims, or this axe of his is heavier than the one Paul had because your biceps feel strained by the third hit.
"Have you never done this before?"
The voice at your back nearly makes you drop the axe. Whirling around, you face the colossal presence of him and wonder how you didn't notice it sooner.
"I have." You rest the thick blade on the ground, grumbling. "Do you have a thing for sneaking up on people?"
"Be more aware of your surroundings." His tone teeters towards admonishing, and he looks you over before ticking up a brow. "And fix your stance before you throw your bloody back out."
He nudges the toe of his boot against yours, forcing you to spread your feet further apart. Your lips roll together as he grunts in approval. "Try again now."
When he takes a step back, you face the tree again, bending your elbows before extending them sharply. The blade cuts deeper this time, if only by a little.
"You're focusing too much on your arms," he remarks behind your shoulder. 
Your eyebrow twitches. "I'm... I'm holding the axe with my arms. Why would I not focus on them?"
"When you're shooting arrows, what muscles do you use the most?"
Thinking back to those lessons from Paul, you answer almost immediately. "My back." It's always the part that gets most sore. "And my... my shoulders, I guess."
"Focus more on those."
His advice helps. The next swing deals considerable damage to the bark. You turn to see his response, but he's already gone back to his tree.
The next few days involve so much chopping and sawing that you think you might be starting to hate wood and all of its forms. After the trees are down, you have to cut them into sizeable logs. The back-and-forth motion leaves your arm numb. You quickly realize why Ghost is making you get up early for this work— once the sun is out, it becomes miserable, cold sweat cascading down your back and temples. 
Blue decides this is not the kind of training she's interested in watching. You don't see much of her except during dinner where she offers to cook the squirrels she's caught for you. You don't object. You pick the meat apart down to the needly bones, wiggle your sore toes of their confinements, and knock out earlier than either of them. Fatigue goes back to claiming you swift and heavy, like a current that pulls you down, down, down. The dreams sit behind a dark wall, blocked for now. 
It goes on like this for a whole week, and somewhere along the way, you stop hating it. The grunts that leave your mouth are laced with exertion and focus. Your arms don't hurt as much. You split the logs apart as your mind fills with thoughts of everything you hate. Greys. Death. Pity. You imagine breaking all those things into a hundred, rotten pieces. It feels... good.
One morning, you awaken to sunlight already bleeding through the plywood, and confusion sits you up. You look around, wondering why Ghost didn't get you up sooner, only to find Blue lying belly-down on the raggedy rug, flipping through one of her new magazines.
"Where's Ghost?" 
"Good morning to you, too," she sings. Her chin inclines from where it rests in her palm. "I decided you need a different kind of training today. He's setting it up."
"You... you decided that, huh?"
She hums. "I made you breakfast. Go eat." She waves her hand. "I'm sure he'll be done soon."
You have no idea what she's talking about, but your stomach guides you to the cooked meat calling your name. She points out things in the magazine, like old celebrities and ridiculous perfume ads, cute boys and yummy sweets she wishes she could try; you nod along as you eat.
When he returns, she perks up. Practically tugs on your arm. You have to remind her that you're still barefoot. She impatiently groans the entire time you are lacing up your boots, taking your sweet time on purpose. 
The pond is where she leads you. That place where you first saw her.
Except today, there is a thin log stretched across one end to the other. A bridge.
"We have got to work on your balance, my student," Blue announces, hands on her hips. A gentle, warm breeze tousles her hair and she swipes it from her face. "We can't have a repeat of you-know-what."
Your brows shoot up and a chuff of breath leaves your nose. "Are you trying to say I have no sense of balance?"
"That's exactly what I'm saying. Come on, now."
You almost forgot Ghost followed the two of you out here until he sits on a tree stump with his carving knife and the bow he's making. He's been working on it for a few hours every day. Today, when you steal a glance as Blue clasps your hand and leads you to the homemade bridge, it almost looks like a bow, finally taking on a curved shape. You can't see much of it, though, because soon you are being instructed to cross the log.
"Without falling," Blue adds. 
"Easy," you tease, shrugging. 
"Prove it."
The log is about the width of the metal beam, but much shorter. You cross over it, arms outstretched at your sides and boots hovering a few feet above glistening water that is teeming with fish. When you step down on the other side, you shoot Blue a grin.
She rubs her chin. "Not bad, not bad. Again."
You do it again with ease, even though your muscles are still stiff from your morning workouts. 
"Okay, this time, we're going to make it more realistic." 
By realistic, she means baring her teeth in a growl and sticking her arms out like a Grey. All of a sudden, you are being chased across the log, Blue running behind you. Explicatives leave your lips until your boot misses a step and you fall into the water. This time, the shallow pond offers a comfortable temperature that doesn't send your body into panic mode. You break the surface, able to stand up on the rocky bottom, and throw your wet hair out of your face as laughter bubbles up your throat on its own accord.
You look up at Blue, playfully glaring. She smirks.
"Come here, Grey," you say.
You grab her by the ankle and pull her down into the water with you. She gasps and giggles, thrashing around in her soaked clothes as you splash water in her face. 
"Or," you taunt, "Should I say Amelia?"
Her eyes widen. "How did you—" 
Then, she's leaping at you, pushing your head under the water. "Don't ever call me that."
"Or what?" You tease and swim away, scaly fish brushing against your ankles as the wide legs of your jeans ride up. "You'll kill me?"
"Might have to!"
You're not sure how long the two of you swim in there. Minutes. Maybe an hour. Until your fingertips are pruney like how they used to get when you used to swim in the pool with your sister.
You hoist yourself out of the pond and sit by the water's edge, drenched shirt clinging to your breasts uncomfortably, but you don't care. You've felt far more uncomfortable things. The buttery sunlight kisses your exposed cheeks as you wring out your hair, Blue sitting beside you to do the same thing.
She peels off her wet jeans, probably uncomfortable in them. You would do the same if you were eleven and didn't care. On her thigh, the thick scar from her bullet wound blemishes the soft, pale skin.
"I'm a better teacher than Ghost, huh?" she says.
"So far," you nod, glancing at him. When you do, his eyes meet yours across the short distance. Only for a second. Before they flicker back down to the bow.
"He hates swimming, you know."
You look at her. "Oh yeah?"
"Yeah. He never really goes in with me." She shrugs and buries her fingers in the grass. "Hey. Look. There are those violets I told you about."
You follow the direction of her eyes and sure enough, a patch of wild violets decorate the ground, gently bent in the breeze. As your clothes dry, the two of you pluck them. They are beautiful. Dark purple petals. You braid them into her hair. She tries to do the same for you, but her braiding skills need some work. It's a nice break from the past week you've had, your sore limbs sprawled against the grass to dry.
It's when the sun starts to lower that Blue puts her jeans back on. Your clothes are still wet, and the wind is starting to pick up, spreading gooseflesh across your skin. 
"Here."
The familiar low voice announces his presence. Tucking your wet hair behind your ears, you look up at Ghost. The two of you haven't exchanged many words except for his occasional correction of your form while cutting wood. 
He stands against the sun. You take the finished bow from him in quiet awe. It's even nicer up close, the smoothed oak caressing your palms as you glide them up and down the length of this new weapon. The first one he gave you was made for a child, but this one is larger, the perfect size for you. Your index finger gives a pluck to the string, feeling the hum of vibrations. He must have just added that. 
"Thank you," you tell him honestly. Whatever uncertainty or irritation you might feel about him doesn't change the swell of gratitude you feel in this moment. It’s a tangible thing that sits in your chest. “It's... great, really."
"Might take some getting used to,” he says gruffly.
You shrug. "That's alright."
You glance to your left where Blue is still changing. With a swallow, you hold the bow tight to your chest. "Do you think I'm ready to try more tomorrow? Not just the wood. I feel like... I feel like I've been getting stronger from it already."
He gives a short nod. "Tomorrow, then."
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cinnamostar · 4 months
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01: home
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part two.
pairing : minho x gn!reader
summary : minho had waited in front of the entrance of the forest for you until the sky darkened, his eyes welling up with tears as he came to accept that you had forgotten about him that day. maybe you needed to go home that day and forgot to tell him before school, he thought. although, he realized something far greater than that had happened as he arrived at the front of your house, the for sale sign standing in the yard without a trace of human presence in the home.
wc : 3.8k
cw : childhood friends, arguing, angst, sadness, mentions of bullying + racism/xenophobia, mentions of alcohol, idk what else
a/n : tried a new writing styles, lmk what you think!!! also pls let me know if you guys are interested in a part 2 :3 this fic is very much inspired by the movie past lives heheheh
。゚•┈୨♡୧┈• 。゚
The low buzzing of mosquitoes filled your ears while you wandered down the dirt trail with trepidation as the vast forest surrounded you the deeper you ventured in. Tufts of grass tickled your ankles as your clammy hands clenched your best friend’s, who had dragged you out against your will, insisting it would be a fun adventure to test your bravery. 
Every now and then, he’d look back and shoot you a wide, childish grin, a gap taking the place of the front tooth he had just lost last week. “C’mon, Y/N! Walk faster!” 
You nodded meekly at your friend, admiring how he fearlessly marched forward, while you anxiously trudged behind him, biting your lip to release some of the tension in your body. Every rustle of leaves or snap of a twig would cause you to jump, afraid that something would jump out at you in the next second, but Minho’s gentle grasp would always bring you back down with a reassuring squeeze, reminding you that you were not alone as you hiked into the unknown. You weren’t sure where you were heading, neither did you know if the seven year old boy ahead of you knew, but his presence was enough to ease you, trusting that everything would be okay as long as he was there.
“It’s okay, Y/N, we’re almost there! You’re going to love it.”
Although only ten minutes had passed, it felt as if this journey was lasting for an excruciating amount of hours as anxiety loomed over you. All you could see was the different hues of green leaves enveloping you, the site of the park you had come from no longer in view as the forest swallowed you whole, only bits of the sunlight made its way through the dense leaves above you, coloring the dirt path with shadows and lights. You looked above, hoping to find the comforting blue sky looking down on you, but not even the heavens were there to accompany you on this trek. It was just you, Minho, and the eerily quietness of the woods.
You decided to put your blinded trust in Minho, shutting your eyes closed as the daunting feeling of claustrophobia began to bubble up your stomach, not daring to take in any more of your surroundings. Suddenly, Minho had come to a stop, causing you to collide into his back as you slowly opened your eyes, unsure what you’d be met with. 
“We’re here,” Minho whispered to you breathlessly from all the walking, turning his head to look over his shoulder, “Look, I found it the other day, it reminded me of you.”
You reluctantly peeked your head out from behind him, a small and excited gasp escaping your lips as you marveled at the sight before you. It was like a photo from one of your nature books had come to life before your eyes. There laid a pond with clear waters and lily pads floating atop of it, soft ripples forming in the water as tadpoles swam just beneath the surface. Just to the right of the pond was the faintest stream of water cascading into the pond, bubbles forming where the brook met the pond as the light trickles of it accompanied the low hum of the forest. 
You had forgotten you weren’t alone as Minho’s giggles brought you out your trance, his eyes beaming with affection as he watched your frightful expression turn into one of amazement and discovery. 
“See, I knew you’d like it. Sometimes you need to pass a test of bravery to get something cool at the end.”
For a seven year old, Minho often said profound things as if he had lived a life full of experiences, things only an adult from a movie or book would say, but in his own childlike vocabulary. You didn’t always quite understand what he meant, but always kept those small tidbits of profundity with you, hoping one day you’d grow to learn the meaning behind his words.
“But jeez, you’re such a scaredy cat. You should’ve seen the look on your face,” he teased as he now faced you, a hand pinching one of your cheeks.
And sometimes, he would just be like any other kid who was messing with his friends, saying something outrageous and nonsensical the next second. He was a strange kid, but you had grown to adore his unpredictability throughout the years of your friendship. You rolled your eyes playfully at his remarks, knowing he meant well, “So what if I was scared?”
“I think it’s cute when you’re scared. You always hold my hand when you are.”
Your face grew warm at his comment, an innocent smile gracing his features as he looked off to the pond. You pouted as butterflies fluttered into your stomach, making their presence known for the umpteenth time today, “Whatever…”
You returned your attention to the pond, walking to its edge as you squatted down with an arm and head resting on your knees as the other reached down to touch the cool water. Your fingers dipped beneath the surface and waved underneath, hoping you’d catch the attention of the tadpoles, but instead the sudden movement shooed them away. 
“Minho?”
“Hmm?”
“How did you find this?”
The boy stood in his place from earlier, opting to admire the scene from afar, “Well, I went out exploring with my dad the other day and it was just here. I learned the path back to show you. Do you like it?”
“It’s so pretty. Can we come here again?”
“Of course.”
Since that day, it had become a small ritual between the two of you, stopping by nearly everyday after school to spend time by the small pond as you slowly learned to appreciate the peaceful quietude of the wilderness. On the days your mother would tell you she needed you home after school, you’d always approach Minho with big, teary eyes and trembling lips, disappointed that you’d have to miss out on a time you had cherished so much with him. And every single time, Minho would pull you into his embrace, place a small kiss on your head, (a gesture he had learned from his own mother), and reassure you, promising that you both would go the next day.
This routine had lasted for a bit over a year, until one day your parents sat you down and told you that the family was moving away to the United States later that month. You had known this was going to happen eventually, as your parents mentioned this in passing to you over the last few months as they prepared for the move, but your child brain couldn’t comprehend the passage of time and just how fast this had all come.  You immediately broke down into tears, begging your parents to let you stay, not wanting to leave all your friends behind so soon, not ready to confront the uncertainty this new country had. You were scared, terrified for what this had all meant, and the worse part of it all was that you wouldn’t have Minho holding your hand through it all this time. He was staying behind, you were leaving him.
Days had gone by as the day you were moving had come close, and you still hadn’t told Minho that you were moving. You didn’t know how to, you were afraid he would cry or be angry at you, so eventually, weeks had gone by without you saying a word. 
Then, you left without a word, never telling your best friend you were leaving and never giving him the chance to send him off with a proper goodbye. 
Minho had waited in front of the entrance of the forest for you until the sky darkened, his eyes welling up with tears as he came to accept that you had forgotten about him that day. Maybe you needed to go home that day and forgot to tell him before school, he thought. Although, he realized something far greater than that had happened as he arrived at the front of your house, the for sale sign standing in the yard without a trace of human presence in the home.
Panic settled into his body as he sped his way home, not being able to understand what was going on as he rushed to his mother, tears falling down his face as he screamed that something happened to you and your family, how you never showed up to the pond that day.
His mother leaned down as she pulled him into a tight hug, a comforting hand rubbing his back in an attempt to soothe him, “Oh, sweetie, didn’t Y/N tell you?” 
Minho looked up at his mother, his face reddening as he continued to sob, a confused look on his face as he shook his head no. His mother cooed at him with a saddened look, pressing a kiss on his forehead, “I’m sorry, sweetie. I thought they did. Their dad got a job in America, so their family is moving there.”
Minho stood there in shock, sniffling as he croaked another sob, “What? Does this mean they’re gone? They’re never coming back?”
“No, baby, they’ll come back eventually. I don’t know when, but they will.”
You had abandoned Minho with no warning, consequently breaking his heart as he mourned the loss of his best friend.
。゚•┈୨♡୧┈• 。゚
While your parents kept in contact with one another, Minho refused to ever speak to you over the phone whenever he had the chance, as the love and adoration he once had for you festered into anger and resentment for leaving him without warning. 
It hurt you every time you asked over the phone if Minho could talk, and all you would hear was a loud, upset no from the background after his mother would ask. Your eyes would water up each time, his mother apologizing for him and saying he would soon get over his feelings. 
You hated living in the United States. It was an entirely different culture you were not prepared for as you struggled to communicate with other kids your age, unable to make friends due to the apparent language barrier. Everyday after school, you’d come home in a flood of tears, exhausted and upset at how difficult everything was.
You couldn’t understand your teachers and lessons, always performing poorly even though you knew you could do well. You couldn’t make friends, always being made fun of by other kids due to your accent and jokes constantly flew over your head. Everything about you had become a weapon everyone else had used against you, and the parts of you you once loved and once were proud of became something you rejected, something you felt ashamed of. Back home, you were so smart and witty, always the center of attention, yet here, you were just a stupid kid who didn’t fit in.
You missed Minho so much, wishing he was here with you to help you fight through it all with your hand in his. If he was there, he would’ve told off all the kids for you. He was much braver than you ever were, and you needed him there. Although, as time ran its course, you eventually gave up on the idea of ever reconciling with Minho and thought he would reach out to you whenever he was ready.
Except that day never came, and he had long become a memory of a past life you no longer knew. 
。゚•┈୨♡୧┈• 。゚
Years have gone by since you left your home country and all you had left of it was the faint outlines of memories that faded away with age, much like how pencil marks slowly disappear from paper as time wears it down. Well into your adult years now, you have grown accustomed to life in the United States and have eventually learned the language, made friends, and even lost touch with roots as many immigrant children do. Although, as you grew older, you began to yearn for the country you once called home and remember where you had come from, feeling ashamed that you had neglected such a crucial part of your identity for so long. 
Today, for the first time in years, you and your parents returned to your home country as a small celebration for your college graduation, deciding it was appropriate to revisit your childhood before embarking on your journey as an adult. You already had a job lined up once you returned to the states, so you were going to take advantage of the limited time you had here.
Much like you, everything here has changed through the passage of time, yet the familiar comfort of home remains as your eyes scan over each detail through the car window. Even the humid air smelled the same, your face smiling as memories slowly crept their way into your mind. As the car drove you to your aunt’s house, you were catching glimpses of the past as convenience stores, parks, and even your old school greeted you, still looking the exact same as you remembered, but just a little dulled down as the years weathered on them.
The car came to a halt at the front of your aunt’s home, your parents and you taking your luggage from the trunk as you bid the driver a goodbye. As you were approaching the front door steps, your aunt came bursting out with an excited gasp, tears filling her eyes as she pulled you into a familiar embrace, “Oh, Y/N! Look at you! You’re all grown up now!”
She pulls away as her hands rest over your shoulders as she takes a moment to beam at your face, taking in every detail she had missed over the years, “My, aren’t you adorable too! I’ve missed you all so much,” she laughed cheerfully as she then went over to greet your parents in the same fashion. 
“I missed you too, auntie,” you breathed out a content chuckle as you enter her home, admiring how it still looked the same way you remembered it, just a bit more modernized.
After settling down in the guest rooms, your family sat with your aunt to eat a dinner she had prepared for you all, even going as far as making some of your childhood favorites. Each bite sent shivers down your spine as your eyes rolled back with nostalgia rushing over you, reminiscing all the times you spent as a child eating each of these dishes at the very table you were sitting at.
“Wow, this is all so good,” you mumble after taking a huge bite of meat, letting out a pleasured hum as you chew.
“Y/N, honey, please don’t talk with your mouth full,” your father scolds, shooting an apologetic and embarrassed look to his sister.
Your aunt let out a belly laugh as she waves you dad off, “Nonsense! Let them enjoy their food. I am just glad you have you guys back.”
Your mother smiles at her comment, nodding her head in agreement, “Us too, it’s good to be back, even for a bit. Thank you for having us.”
“Oh, of course. How could I ever say no to my brother?” smiles your aunt, before turning to you, “Is there anything special you wanted to do while you were here? Do you have anything planned?”
You shake your head, “No, not really. Just kinda wanted to spend time with family for the most part.”
“Oh, what about Minho? I know you two were close as kids. Are you going to see him? He still lives here.”
Your heart stops for a moment as your brain recalls your old best friend, a name that hadn’t crossed your mind in years as fragments of your memories began to resurface, ones that you didn’t even know you have. “Wow, I forgot about him, honestly.”
Your mom gives you a comforting smile, noticing a slight sadness in your eyes, “Well, I think it wouldn’t be a bad idea to catch up with him, no? Aren’t you curious to know what he has been up to all these years?”
You nod, feeling uneasy at the thought of coming face to face with your former friend after the stunt your younger self pulled on him, “Ah, maybe. We’ll see.”
。゚•┈୨♡୧┈• 。゚
You had spent the last few days catching up with your cousins, letting them take you out wherever they thought you had to see and show you what you’ve been missing. Unfortunately for you, that meant you were dragged off to a night of drinking and while you had fun with lots of laughs, you were beginning to regret all the alcohol you had ingested the night before as you woke up with a pounding headache. 
Since the day your aunt mentioned Minho over dinner, you couldn’t help but wonder what he had been up to nowadays, what he looked like, if he had changed much, your heart yearning for the boy you once loved as a child. While you could’ve easily asked any of your family members where to find him, you were also dreading having to face after so long. What if he was still mad at you? What if he was disappointed in who you’ve become? What if he had become an insufferable asshole over the years? 
The insurmountable what-if’s were too much for you to bear, choosing it was best to avoid the subject much as you both have all these years. Yet, you couldn’t ignore the pang in your heart as you looked through your old memories of him, part of you wishing to relive that childlike innocence you lost when you moved away.
That’s when you remembered the old pond Minho and you once frequented as children and thought maybe this was the respite you needed for not only your hurt soul, but your hangover too. Maybe you needed the peace and tranquility of mother nature today.
You felt your heart swell with anxiety as you approached the start of the trail you had become so acquainted with, noticing the same trees decorating the entrance, the only difference was their thickened trunks and roots that had overgrown onto the poorly maintained path. 
You begin to make the trek into the forest, enjoying the gentle zephyr that kisses your skin, inviting you back into your old safe haven as if it recognizes you. The familiar buzzing of mosquitoes greets your ears, along with the songs of birds filling the rest of the space.
A gentle smile melts onto your face as you arrive at the same pond that somehow remains unchanged over the years, just like how you remembered it all those years ago. It was as if you were going back in time as you took in your surroundings, your mind replaying memories of the days you and Minho spent here as children, recalling the first time he had forced you out here and how glad you were that he did.
There are still tadpoles swimming in the water, your smile widening as you realize the frogs are still laying eggs here, even after all these years. You feel at home again seeing how this was like your own little time capsule, a feeling of safety and comfort taking over you, one you hadn’t felt in years. You don’t know how much had passed, but the sound of crunching leaves and twigs startled you from your daze, visibly jumping in place as you turned to see the source of the sound.
Behind you was a man about your age standing there, surprise and confusion painting his face, scanning you from head to toe while analyzing your features. Your face mirrors the same expression he wore as you took him in, your eyes widening as you recognize the man standing before you as none other than your childhood best friend, Minho. 
Somehow, he still looks like the boy you once knew, the only difference being that he grew into his feature with a more matured air around him, his eyes tired from god knows what.
“Y/N…?” he spoke with disbelief, not entirely believing the sight before his eyes.
“Minho?”
For a moment, both of you could only stare at each other, unsure how to react or what to say in the moment, as it felt like you both had just seen a ghost appear in front of you. Your mouth dries as you search for the right words, resisting the overwhelming urge to just jump into his arms and cry out a mess of an apology between tears.
“You’re… here? You’re back?” he questions with a gleam of hope in his eyes, all the memories of his youth flooding back in as his heart swelled with joy, the bitter resentment he had held for so long disappearing for a moment.
“Just for a bit,” you whisper nervously, “I’m just visiting with family.”
The soft smile on Minho’s face began to drop as disappointment colored his face, the hurt he felt all those years ago as a child bubbling back up in his tummy, leaving a bitter taste in his mouth while feeling foolish to think you had moved back home. 
“I… Y/N, why didn’t you tell me you were leaving?”
You felt your heart contort from guilt and agony as you watched Minho’s smile dissipate, his eyes now shining as they watered while recalling the painful memory of the day you left.
“Minho, I’m sorry, I really am. I tried to apologize to you after, but you never wanted to talk after.”
“I waited for you that day. I waited for you to come here, but you never showed up. I went all the way to your house and saw it was empty. My mom had to tell me,” you were wishing the world would swallow you whole as tears streamed down your face, “Y/N, did you not want to say goodbye? Did you not even miss me?”
“Of course I missed you, Minho. I wanted to stay here with you, but telling you I was moving was scary and I didn’t know how.”
His eyebrows furrow at your words, his lips trembling as he tried to hold back a cry as he croaked out with a mixture of sadness and anger, “You left me, Y/N. It wasn’t fair, you don’t know how much I cried for you. Did you even care about how I felt?”
“Minho, I know what I did hurt you and I regret it so much, you meant so much to me, but I was just a kid. I didn’t know any better.”
Minho focuses his gaze to the ground as tear drops roll off his face, the fabric of his shirt darkening as they make their landing, shaking his head side to side, he whispers, “You know, I was a kid too.”
With that, he looks at your face with a hurt expression one last time, turning his back towards you as he walks away, not failing to leave you with a gut-wrenching thought, “Maybe you shouldn’t have come back.”
This wasn't the hangover cure you came looking for.
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Imagine
Finding yourself with Ghost in a… tight situation
This is ridiculous, I love it!
You’re pressed against him as you’re both forced to retreat in a very small space in between two crates. Your back is turned to him, you can’t even take deep breaths in there. How come he seems even more massive than usual?
You do your best to stay still but your equipment is digging into your rib cage. You wriggle ever so slightly to relieve some of the pressure. You can’t help but notice his breath slithering into the crook of your neck. When suddenly something starts pressing harder and harder against your ass.
Oh no…
“Lieutenant…” You fling a quiet word into the deep silence, unsure if he wants to have this conversation right now. Your heart was already beating fast when you found yourself in this situation. You never thought your veins could take the amount of pressure your blood was under right now.
“That’s not a gun if that’s what you’re wondering,” he responds, moving his head to the side slowly to look at your surroundings. You let out a quiet chuckle. Humor, in this kind of situation, L.t?
“Tight spaces, sorry about that,” he lets out, his mouth suddenly dangerously close to your ear as he takes in the remaining of your surroundings. “I’ll let you know this is beyond my control, otherwise I wouldn’t have let it happen…” he lets the words hang between you.
“If you wouldn’t indeed, and if we weren’t in this situation I’d say… too bad,” you replied almost immediately, throwing your words into the air like rocks in a pond, just to see what ripples you could create on the surface.
“Copy that,” he simply says, “let’s focus on the task at hand, for now, yeah?” So he’s not entirely against the idea?
“Sure thing, Lieutenant,” you say with confidence.
After a moment, you can be sure no enemy is left in the area. Now it’s only you, him… and something that’s still pressed hard against you -and of which you are more than aware.
“I think we’re clear,” he says, checking one last time. You acknowledge his remark with a strong nod and prepare your exit from your hiding spot.
“I’m moving, you ready?” you ask him. Seeing how you’re pressed against each other, you will inevitably rub against him upon your exit. You strangely look forward to it… As slowly as you can and still trying to keep yourself as far from his body as you can, you slide to your left.
“Mmmh, fuck,” he practically moans from behind you and you’re left stunned, his warmth suddenly missing to your back as you’re completely extracted from your small space.
You don’t want to turn around to look at him right now, you can’t. However, you can still catch from the corner of your eye his massive form. His hands resting on his thighs as he tries his hardest to compose himself. You give him a minute, keeping your weapon ready, just in case.
You’re both out of there in a minute. He’s back in focus quicker than you thought possible and you don’t say a word about this to each other. That is… until the next time you find yourself alone with him.
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salty-croissants · 4 months
Note
I gots a small request!
You know those big Japanese’s bath houses? They’re like big ponds,,, but for humans!
Maybe a cute reader x bullfrog, where bullfrog is just vibing and reader can’t help but gush at the lil frog like mannerism while soaking in a bath house after a long mission? 👀👉🏼👈🏼 perhaps he’s embarrassed when they point it out lol
Thank you for the request ! 
This was really nice and creative ! I enjoyed writing it :D 
I actually ended up making a whole little story out of it instead of the usual headcanons , cause I live for Bullfrog and the reader being soft to each other :,)
Hope this turned out okay !
Details : use of gender neutral reader ;
established relationships ; 
no warnings needed 
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If there was one thing that you and your boyfriend enjoyed the most after a long , harsh day , it was the tranquility of your favorite bathhouse : 
just the two of you , alone with the relaxing warmth of the water , without having to worry about anything or anyone else … 
That was all that either of you could really ask for . 
< Ahh , now that’s better … are you comfortable , mon amour ? > 
< Mhm … > 
You smiled , glancing at Bullfrog who was sitting right next to you in the bathtub , and then gave him a little kiss on the forehead . 
< I’m so happy we got to do this today . It’s been a while since we came here , hasn’t it ? > 
< Oui … speaking of which , I’m very sorry I haven’t been able to spend more time with you y/n , but - > 
< There is nothing to apologize for my love : Eden has really been stepping up their game lately , today’s been proof of that … so please don’t feel guilty about it , okay ? > 
He smiled softly in response , grateful for your understanding , then he leaned his head on your shoulder , letting out a content sigh : your presence alongside the calm atmosphere of the bathhouse was already making him feel a lot more at ease each passing minute … 
Your eyes couldn’t help but wander on the fresh scar on Bullfrog’s back , a result of a particularly difficult fight that had taken place just a few hours ago … 
Not like that was any news : traces of old and recent battles could be found all over his tiny body , and every time you looked at them the thought that he was willing to get hurt over and over to keep those around him safe made you feel … quite worried . 
However , those morbid reflections disappeared the second you turned around , only to realize that Bullfrog had been staring at you the whole time you had been silent …
< Heh … enjoying the view , darling ? ~ > 
He let out a tiny gasp as he heard your words , shaking his head while looking away … you could swear his cheeks were slightly red .
< Ah - j-je suis desolat , I just - > 
The assassin took a deep breath , fidgeting with his fingers while giving you a shy smile .
< You look so beautiful right now , mon cher … I mean , you always look beautiful , but after all we’ve been through today it just feels … different , you know ? 
Plus I am quite exhausted , I’ll admit , so looking up at your dreamy visage made me so comfortable I almost fell asleep …
I hope that’s not too weir - mm — > 
Bullfrog was caught off guard the moment you leaned closer to his face to place a kiss on his lips , but after a moment of surprise he gladly reciprocated , his arms surrounding you in a gentle hold while little waves caused by your movements shook the surface of the otherwise completely still water … 
After a few minutes of bliss you both pulled away and you caressed his cheek , your eyes never leaving his .
< It’s not weird at all , Bullfrog … 
You’re always so sweet to me , and I love you so much for that reason alone ~ > 
He looked up at you in awe , his breathing still slightly labored after being showered with so much affection , and he buried his face in your chest , the sound of your heartbeat making him feel like home …
< I love you too , y/n … you really do mean everything to me ~ >
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psalidodont · 12 days
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Lurkers... oh the Lurkers, They're aquatic and flightless. Horrible giant wyverns that spend the entirety of their time underwater. Sometimes they will crawl on land, looking for new ponds full of potential snacks! such as Marshy soapfish, Leeches, and unlucky fishermen. Lurkers enjoy being in marshes, rivers and other kinds of stagnant bodies of water; they wiggle their tongue trying to attract small fish and other kinds of creatures into their jaws. They lay egg cases, and guard their nests! they're very caring parents and will guard off their little hatchlings, sometimes even teaching them how to breathe air from the water's edge or surface.
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Halloween prompts no. 15
Danny had been living in the ghost zone for almost a month now and he hated it. He was constantly under attack and could barely find anything to eat, he was so hungry.
Thats why when he was attacked this last time he fled into a part of the zone no one went to because of how unstable it was. What he went through wasn't quite a portal, it was more like he got liquefied and thrown into another dimension as a small pond.
---
Bizarro wasn't having a very good day. He had been fighting off a bounty hunter and had just defeated them when they sent a parting gift- a missile of some sort that sent him rocketing down into the ground. The ground gave away under the impact and Bizarro found himself swimming back to the top of green waters. Flying above the surface he tries to regain his bairings before noticing the water was moving. No..it was..solidifying? And before he knew it a glowing white haired child was in the place of the waters.
Biz flew closer to inspect the child and was surprised when they used ice vision to blast him away. Pretty much unharmed, gears turned in Bizarros head before he came to the conclusion that the magic waters had turned into a child because of him. The ice vision was proof enough of paternity for him.
He gapped, "Bizzaro have son?!"
Danny looked just as flabbergasted if not more so and just kinda went with it because he was tired and hungry and weak and he was okay with being adopted so long as it wasn't by a creepy person or a billionaire. A few weeks later Biz introduced his son and showed him off proudly to the the outlaws. Jason and Artemis side eye eachother uncomfortably wondering if Biz just kidnapped a child and gently confronted him about it. Then they learn about the appearent Lazarus Pit that turned into a child.
The same child that was currently glowing while raiding Jason's fridge and stealing all the Capri-suns. It was then that they noticed how thin the kid was and made plans to get something to eat.
"Phantom" as the kid called himself, was skittish around him and Artemis but was completely fine with Bizarro. He spoke with him fine, cracked jokes with him, not an ounce of fear. Unfortunately the kid had taken to hiding behind Bizarro whenever one of them got too close. Even Biz himself couldn't get the kid to chill out near them.
----
Danny himself liked Bizarro. He was enough like a ghost for him to be comfortable around him but his new dads humans reminded him a little too much of his own parents and thier betrayal. His inner Jazz told him he might have ptsd and he had to agree with her.
It was this that led to the realization that he might be afraid of humans in general.
In the meantime his new dad wanted to do all sorts of bonding activities with him and he was okay with that. More than okay actually.
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sashi-ya · 1 year
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[ 𝐑𝐨𝐫𝐨𝐧𝐨𝐚 𝐙𝐨𝐫𝐨 ✦ +𝟏𝟖 𝐀𝐥𝐩𝐡𝐚𝐛𝐞𝐭 ]
✦ requested by Anonymous for the free requests ➜ SASHII WE NEED ZORO, ANY TYPE OF NSF.W HEADCANON PLEASEEE! ➜ and I totally agree with you. Please enjoy the alphabet since more people requested for this after I posted Law's version. ✦ alphabet template by @the-coldest-goodbye ✦ tw: mentions of kinks. toys. masturbation. minors dni. some ZoSan implied (it's up to you to indulge or not in the fantasy :P) ✦ masterlist
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A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex) Zoro will share some sake with you, while both rest completely naked on a -almost broken- bed or any surface in which he demonically just fucked you. I think both would indulge in more primal type of sex so no fancy after care might be needed. I think our marimo would go for something more feral, specially if your session took place somewhere outside the bedroom; such as the woods, the beach, or something in the wild. He will swim with you if there is any type of pond or water nearby. Kisses, grunts, and the start of a new round until both fall asleep.
B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s) YOUR ASS. Imagine his veiny strong calloused hands gripping tightly to your glutes while he fucks you. PLEASE, AND THANK YOU. Him? I believe is either his arms or back. He loves to flex his muscles (perhaps not intentionally) while topping you before burying raw and deep into you. Bonus point if you happen to have a mirror over your head to see such huge back about to crush you.
C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically) Inside you. Stuffed. Dripping. His cum is meant to be inside you. Even if sometimes he likes the view of those milky drops drizzled on the small of your back and ass cheeks.
D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs) Sanji. Sanji is his dirty secret.
E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?) None, he is just feral and follows his instincts. He founds himself hard for you, he knows how to relieve that pressure. He is not an expert, and yet, he knows exactly where and how to touch. Zoro might be a stray moss but not exactly when it comes to find your clit/erogenous zones.
F = Favorite position (this goes without saying) Him on top of you. You against any type of surface where he can make you bend and leave your legs trembling. You on top -sometimes if he is the one helping you jump on his dick. If sleepy sex, from behind lifting your leg up to go even deeper, breathing on your neck and sometimes biting cause why not, sweetheart?
G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.) No goofy at all. No time to. He is too serious, and it won’t change during sex. But some smirks when you are shaking from pleasure underneath him could be seen on his face.
H = Hair (how well-groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.) He is actually a pretty hairless dude. He has some type of tiny green bush but not very prominent (or maybe is the size of his dick what makes it look tiny ha). He has been told how to groom while in the boys bathroom “MARIMO YOU ARE GONNA SCARE THAT POOR ---- AWAY!”
I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect) Maybe you might think he isn’t very romantic while being as feral as he is, however he has his moments; You will notice, specially when he is about to come his steel eye fixes on yours, and the way his lips part… he is completely in heaven and it’s all because of the person he is sharing something so very personal with. Is difficult for Zoro to trust others to such extent, in fact, he usually never communicates how he feels, so by him having this alone time with you it shows how much he trusts and loves you. Sometimes love isn’t in sweet nothings whispered, but eyes that burn for the other.
J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon) Been doing it since he felt that little tingling sensation in his guts. He used to feel a little guilty, the bushido says to be totally focused in your goal and succumbing to lust should be left aside… but there is something demonic inside him eating his guts, some type of strength he can’t fully unleash yet… it has to be a way to tame it, right?
K = Kink (one or more of their kinks) - Drinking sake from you. Obviously. - Anal. He craves for it, he wants to try. - PAIN, blood, dripping blood he could lick off you or you off him. He likes the acrid taste, what can I say. - A sword fight completely naked. He wants that and there is nothing you could say to change his mind. He is a simple man, give him sake, a hole -or two-, some violent murderous fighting and he’ll be pleased to try anything you want.
L = Location (favorite places to do the do) Anywhere, anytime. There is a special spot he REALLY likes; SANJI’S KITCHEN. Either because he likes to mess with his stuff or mess his stuff. You get it, right?
M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going) Violence. The smell of blood, he loves LOVES blood; If you have periods, he won’t have any type of problem with it). Being woken up with some kisses around his belly button (yes, the only one he would forgive for waking him up is you)
N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs) There aren't many things that could turn him off. Perhaps he wouldn’t want to be turned on while training hard after a fight in which he believes he wasn’t as strong as expected. Whenever he is focused in his ultimate goal he won’t be needed further distractions.
O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.) Giving and receiving he loves it equally. When he gives, he goes hard. He can eat you out in the most violent way possible, lifting your legs up so them rest on his wide shoulders. He won’t be ever kneeling, you will be lifted up for the king of hell. Same if you happen to be on all fours, HE LOVES TO EAT YOU OUT FROM BEHIND. Oh, and if your lips surround his hardness… prepare to listen the most unholy symphony of grunts coming from his throat as his huge heavy hand pushes your head against him. Choke on it, make his sun kissed skin bumpy when he hears you gag. And drink for the King of Hell, there is nothing he enjoys the most.
P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.) R o u g h. But he can go slow, painfully slow, deep until you feel like breaking in two. And while he does, he usually likes to carve his strong fingers around your neck or face. Specially if you two are fucking in the Sunny, he will like to cover your mouth… “shhh or do you want them to hear us?”
Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.) Not a very quickie type of man, when he fucks you he can’t only go with just one round.
R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.) Please, if you happen to be a swordsman/woman like him or someone with a reasonable strength that could match his, he WILL LOVE to fuck with a blade lingering on his neck. We could add knife play to his kinks, maybe.
S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?) HA! IT’S ZORO. How much you want him to last? His mind could go in sleep mode, but that muscle mass could move on its own all night long.
T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?) The more raw and natural the better. However, we can’t rule out the hilt of your sword used in uh… some… holes. That is, of course, if you use a sword. His are sacred, not for fucking, or at least not to be inserted anywhere. Probably the edge against your neck, yes.
U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)
King of hell and teasing. But he isn’t conscious of it. He exists, he trains, drinks and sleeps. And during all of those activities, he usually goes shirtless. And oh hell, do I have to explain? The little drops of sweat pooling on his prominent collar bones or in between the indentations of his abs… the grunts when he lifts weight, the “ugh... more, I need to train more”s he repeats while stretching that testosterone container that’s his body… oh lord.
V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.) Panting, grunting, growling. Little fucks and even sometimes some whimpers here and there. Zoro is exceptionally vocal but not in terms of words. However, he likes to give you swift directions like “spread”, “crawl on top”, “turn around” with breathy tone too. He, as much feral as he is, makes sure you are ok asking you too. And ultimately when he is ready to fill you up he makes sure you are ok with it (he knows where babies come from if it’s the case) by telling you “ready to be filled with cum? Or “Get ready to be my cum dump sweet bitch” -very romantic, marimo-
W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character) Hickies. Such a silly swordsman. But he loves hickies since a very young age (around 19 y/o after the Baratie). Giving or receiving. He won’t tell you, but he has always loved them, just don’t leave them on his back.
X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes) You could go with the usual med scale of 9% of the body is approximately the size of the genitalia area. It’s not really accurate, since it takes in consideration the whole surface. But approximately, 9% of 181cm is 16.29cm. Now, for most accuracy in terms of length, using my mathematical equation. Let me see… Sashi’s Method for Dick Estimated Length: So,I will use my BWFC Super Master Stars Piece “The Roronoa Zoro” for the calculation. Zoro is 181cm tall, and the figure is 28cm in total length. So:  if 1/1 – 181cm, then 1/14 – 28cm,. Approximately Zoro’s crotch in the figure is about 3 cm. So if: (1/14 scale) 28cm – 3 cm (1/1 scale) 181cm —x = 19,39cm Then, Zoro’s dick is about ± 19cm Not surprised, honestly. Not surprised and hungry, too.
Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?) Healthy, as they say an apple a day keeps the doctor away.. well, in his case a fuck per day keeps the demon tamed. However, if he is in that focus/training mood, he won’t care much for sex.
Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards) Almost instantly. He isn’t really tired, but it’s Zoro. He loves to sleep. It’s part of the pleasure of being with you sleeping over his huge tits after a good fuck.
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entishramblings · 3 months
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Fuck the Forbidden Pt. 2
[Boromir/F!MermaidReader]
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PART 1 | PART 3 — coming soon
Fuck the Forbidden: FTF LINK MASTERLIST
A.N: my apologies for taking so much time to update: graduate school is a tornado, plus getting sick and the craziness of holidays season didn’t help. Anyways, thank you for your patience and your continuous support! I literally read all your comment in order to inspire me to write again!
Request: none
Pairing: Boromir X Fem!MermaidReader
Summary: The Reader is a Mermaid and witnessed a shipwreck. She becomes interested in human life—particularly one human: Boromir.
Disclaimer: Any mythology relating to the mermaids of middle earth is not canon. also I tried my best with arda water/river geography plz don’t come at me—it’s not one of my finer subjects :/
Word Count: 5.7k — listen, yes, I STILL have a problem
Warnings: depression, drowning, ptsd, alcoholism, angst, comfort, fluff, stalking (idk how to make that last one sound less creepy. you’re just gonna have to read it).
MASTERLIST | AO3 | WATTPAD
The following day, (Y/N) waited in the depths of the Anduin River by the entrance of the Minas Tirith castle. Sure enough, the captain, decorated in silver, came out upon his steed. Though he did not have the cheer he normally held—despite his recent struggles—he seemed….different. (Y/N) had hoped that he didn't remember what he saw under the lake. Maybe he figured he was too drunk and his mind was playing tricks on him? Maybe he would forget it all together? However, that fearful look in his eyes when he glanced at the river told her otherwise. It appeared Faramir failed to convince his brother that the mer-folk were just a myth.
Boromir deviated from his routine as well. He did not go to the market for the breakfast that he seemed to love. No, no. Instead he went out towards the edge of the city–towards the docks. And (Y/N) went with him. He passed his horse off to another and walked upon the wood, passing ship and boat, until he came upon a small fishing vessel. (Y/N) swam around it and took to the surface upon its side, far enough to not be spotted, but close enough to see and hear.
“Iwar,” Boromir called out. “You there?”
“Oi!” the old man replied, emerging from the sails. “What can I do for yer?”
“You have a moment?”
“For ye? Of course I do, lad. What is this about?” Iwar stated, squinting in the sun.
Boromir huffed, and pulled something from his pocket. He lightly tossed it to the older fellow. “What do you make of this?”
Iwar frowned, holding the whale up before his face by the string Boromir had used to make it into a necklace. “Where’d ye get it?”
“In a pond. One that connects to the Anduin River.”
Iwar sent him a strange look. “Do ye know what this is made out of?”
Boromir shook his head and shrugged his shoulders.
“It’s bone, Boromir,” he replied tentatively.
At this, the captain’s lips parted. “Bone?”
Iwar tossed the whale carving back to him. “Aye, couldn't tell ye what it came from. Whittled too much away for that. Ye said yer got it from a pond?”
He nodded, swallowing dryly.
“Could’ve washed up from the currents.” Iwar stated, nonchalantly, returning to the tasks of his sail. “Some trinket someone lost to the sea.”
Boromir dipped his head, his anxiety present as he fiddled with the whale.
Iwar glanced at him. “Something else, boy?”
Boromir inhaled slowly. “Iwar, do you–do you really believe those tales of the sea-folk?”
The old man sent a weary look at the captain as he tied off one of the ropes upon the fabric. “Aye. Saw one of em’ when I was just a lad. Nearly lost my life.”
Boromir focused his gaze upon Iwar. “I think–I think I saw one last night.”
At this, the older man froze. Slowly, he turned his full attention to the captain, dread slipping from his face.
Still, Boromir continued, trying to justify his sighting. ‘Though, I don't know. I was very drunk. Had a couple ales too many. My mind could’ve—”
“You were out on the sea last night?” Iwar interrupted, confused.
Boromir shook his head.
“The shore then? Never heard of em’ venturing so close.”
Boromir released a nervous chuckle, rubbing the back of his neck. “I, uh, I was in the pond by the Minas Tirith castle.”
Iwar’s form stiffened as he walked toward the captain. He nodded at the bone carving in Boromir’s hand as he spoke in a tone that held so much anxiety that it radiated through the air around him. “The same pond where ye found that?”
“Yes.”
Iwar’s eyes widened wildly. “I’d tell ye what, lad. Ye have been marked by em.’ And that—” he dipped his head at the whale once more. “—I reckon that's human bone.”
Blood drained from Boromir’s face, replaced with sheer panic. His fingers clumsily grappled with the carving, uncertain of how to handle it. Reluctant to make direct contact, he hesitated before settling on gripping the string, allowing the whale to dangle. Disgust etched across his brow.
“I’d get out while ye can. Stay away from the sea waters, boy.” Iwar warned.
….
That night, Boromir didn't go to the pool of water by the white walls—nor the following night. He, quite frankly, didn't go near the water at all. He stayed far from the beaches and from the Anduin River. He took longer paths to where he needed to go in order to avoid such circumstances that put him near what Iwar had described to live in the sea.
And this—all this broke (Y/N)’s heart. It stirred up a tumult of emotions—sadness, anger, fear, and frustration. Therefore, on the third day, she sought solace in a secluded nook along the Bay of Belfas. Hoisting herself onto a warm rock, she sat, enveloped in her misery. Her once-vivid fantasies of the land-people and Boromir now dissolved into sorrow and regret. What lingered was the haunting image of Boromir's disdainful expression when Iwar speculated that her gift was crafted from human bone. Any mer-folk would be delighted to receive such a heartfelt gesture! But Boromir wasn't of the sea, now was he.
(Y/N) stayed upon the rock for hours, hoping the sun would soak up her melancholy mood. However, that is not what the golden beams absorbed. Her skin dried, her hair lightened and billowed freely, and the scales on her tail lacked the moisture they once held. It was at that moment discomfort struck. Excruciating, searing pain surged through her tail, a relentless agony that prompted a deep cry from her lips. Every nerve seemed to flare with an intense, burning sensation, rendering her nearly paralyzed by the sheer intensity of the pain. She couldn't move, only shake and claw at the rock she perched upon. It felt like hours as she laid there, praying to the gods to make it end. And when it did, she instinctively reached for her scales. However, to her surprise, her hand met no such thing; instead, flesh had replaced the once-familiar tail.
(Y/N) gasped.
Her father had said…
He had tested them all…
None had the gift….
He lied.
Emotions swirled around her naked form as she stared at the strange extension that replaced her glimmering scales—legs. Anger, irritation, sadness, regret, frustration, excitement all ran through her blood.
Slowly, she stood. As she took a wobbly step upon the rock, a loud, breathy giggle escaped her lips.
Was this a dream?
(Y/N) took another uncertain step, and another, and another—until she stumbled, her hand reaching out to break her fall. However, a splash came from that, for her palm struck where water had gathered in a dip upon the rock.
Immediately, she felt it.
Her skin tingled, then burned and stung, stretching and pulling in a painful dance. (Y/N) cried out as the pain intensified. With scales attempting to form on her dry legs, the tugging became excruciating once more—tears streamed from her eyes as she desperately scrambled towards the water.
Her form slipped and rolled, right off the rock and into the ocean.
Immediate relief enveloped her. Scales continued to knit together without a hint of pain. The water soothed her. It coated the soreness into nonexistence.
(Y/N) allowed her form to sink, adjusting.
There she floated, letting her body and mind adjust to what had just happened.
It was then when one of the turmoiling emotions overtook the rest of them. It coursed through her gills and surged through her veins.
How dare he…
With a decisive flick of her tail, she propelled herself toward her father's palace.
The anger granted her remarkable speed, causing other merfolk to whip their heads around in confusion as she barreled past them.
She swam directly to the grand chamber, where she anticipated her father perched upon his throne, and busted the door open with her tail.
“HOW DARE YOU?!” she screamed at him.
Heads turned instantly—her father’s, her sisters’, the guards’.
“HOW DARE YOU LIE TO ME, FATHER. HOW DARE YOU NOT TELL ME I HAD THE GIFT?!”
Her father rose, signaling the guards to leave. They swam away quickly, avoiding the impending wrath of the sea's king and his children.
“You lied straight to my face,” (Y/N) stated.
“(Y/N), what are you talking about?” Anahita interjected, appalled by her sister’s tone.
Mareena added to her statement. “That is no way to speak to our father!”
(Y/N)'s tail flicked with irritation as she focused her gaze on the man before her. “I have the gift to walk among the land-folk.”
Una gasped. Seria’s mouth dropped open. Rana’s eyes widened. Nerida’s brows shot upwards.
Their father swam towards (Y/N). “You went to the land?!” he growled. “It is forbidden.”
“I DID NOT GO ONTO THE LAND!” She snapped back. Taking a deep breath, she spoke again. “I was letting the sun warm me upon a rock when it happened—the tingling, the splitting, the pain.”
“You went to the surface—”
“How dare you not tell me, Father!”
“I DID NOT TELL YOU BECAUSE OF THIS!” He yelled. “Because I knew the minute you would figure it out, you would want to test out your new form. You would put us all in danger.”
“YOU HAVE PUT ME IN DANGER. YOU HAVE MASKED YOUR PROTECTION IN LIES THAT HAVE ONLY CAUSED ME PAIN. HOW DARE YOU!” (Y/N) retorted.
With that, (Y/N) swam away. She twisted through the reefs and the grass. She slipped through the schools of fish and their bubbles. She slithered through the rocks and caves. She did so until she was back in the Anduin River, where the lively markets and the hustle of people's households awaited. Breaking through the water's surface, she emerged with a cautious awareness, ensuring she remained unseen.
She swam along the edge until she came upon a line of clothing strung between two buildings. On it hung sheets as bright as a lemonpeel angelfish, a skirt holding the vibrance of an orange clownfish, a flowing wrap the hue of a blue tang fish, a pair of trousers the color of a brown leafy sea dragon, a top shaded like that of a pink fairy wrasse, and a flowing dress the cream color of a stingray’s belly.
(Y/N) looked at her surroundings.
The people were on the other side of the clothing line—all mucking about in the market. None even bothered to shed a glance behind the fabric. All were too busy going about their day.
Therefore, with little regard for the forbidden nature of her actions—because, really, fuck the forbidden—(Y/N) decided to defy the rules that had once controlled her life.
Originally, she hadn't intended to act in such defiance, but the anger coursing through her veins urged her forward into impulsive urges.
Hauling her form out of the water, (Y/N) manipulated the water clinging to her, using her fingers in twisting and rippling motions. She gathered the liquid into a cohesive ball and, with a flick of her wrist, sent the sphere dancing through the air before it plopped back into the river.
The tingling sensation began, followed by the excruciating pain, and soon enough, the transformation into legs commenced.
Anxiously, (Y/N) stood. Her shaky legs wobbled as she adjusted to their unfamiliar form. Her trembling fingers swiftly seized the cream colored dress—she didn't want to stand out, she needed to blend in—and she clumsily slipped it on. Her gaze then fixated on a brilliant blue wrap. The color resonated with the deep seas she hailed from, and she couldn't resist. The mermaid grasped the silk and yanked, winding it around her hair in a manner she had observed from land women when peeking from the river. Letting some of her locks cascade out of the twisted band, the blue fabric draped over her shoulders. She smiled.
Her hand instinctively rose to her neck, where her necklace adorned with shells, sea glass, and bones encircled her skin. A frown crossed her face. She couldn't part with it—this cherished gift from her since passed mother. Therefore, she let it remain, finding that it didn't look too out of place.
(Y/N) ventured into the market, nervously navigating the bustling city of Minas Tirith with her new, wobbly legs. The vibrant atmosphere teemed with life and excitement as diverse groups came together to weave the people into the human race. So many men, women, and children—all different sizes, all different shapes, all different skin tones—bustled through the streets.
Young children ran through the tents playing games and tricks on one another. Often enough, a woman was pursuing the chase while yelling for their halt of mischief. Men were not involved in this matter. Instead, they loudly called out the names of what they sold, along with prices, at the busy passerbyers in hopes of getting a customer. Never had (Y/N) seen something so brilliantly enthralling and engaging—not in her time under the sea with the mer-folk.
As she moved through the people, she discreetly snagged what she needed. A pair of sandals disappeared from a rack, and she swiftly turned away before anyone noticed. Vibrantly colored bracelets caught her eye at a vendor's stall, and she couldn't resist snagging a few. Additionally, she plucked food from bins and baskets. She didn't know what it was—but oh how delicious it tasted when it was not dunked in the salt of the sea.
Here, (Y/N) stayed, exploring the thrill of humanity and letting their culture enrapture her senses. So much so, that she failed to notice a soldier adorned in silver until she collided with his metal-plated chest.
Her form tumbled backwards, taking an extra moment to steady.
“Are you alright, miss?” a concerned voice inquired.
(Y/N) slowly raised her head to meet a familiar face: Faramir.
Unable to find her voice, she could only nod in reply. Shyness and anxiety filled her as she backed away from the unexpected encounter.
He acknowledged her reply with a dip of his own head before turning to another soldier a little ways away. He made way towards him and gently touched his arm. “Boromir, we should get going. Father is expecting us.”
(Y/N) went still. Her inquisitive gaze shifted towards him, and indeed, there stood Boromir. His dark, sandy hair brushed upon his forehead, tousled slightly from the refreshing breeze. Vibrant blue eyes held a sternness, concealing the sadness she knew resided in his heart. His pink lips pressed into a firm line, refraining from the warmth of a smile. Boromir was clad in the silver armor and the metal weapons that she had seen him in nearly every day. He looked fit for his position as captain, his authority nearly radiating from him. Now that she was upon the land, he seemed so much bigger—so much stronger. So much more important.
(Y/N)’s cheeks began to heat, prompting her to quickly ducked behind the fabric of a tent. After giving herself a moment, she peaked out.
Though she knew she shouldn't, she found herself following them. At a safe distance, she mimicked every turn, accentuated every step, and utilized every path they took. And when the Steward's sons crossed the threshold of Minas Tirith Castle, so did she.
Instantly, she was met with just as much business as the market. Servants flooded the halls, carrying trays of fruit and platters of meat. Maids held onto neatly folded laundry and finely pressed sheets. Guards bustled about, their steel clanking as they moved through the halls, to get to their next shift, meal, or rest.
(Y/N) was so overwhelmed that she failed to notice a group of soldiers rounding the corner. As they pushed past her, a heavy shoulder slammed into her, the edge of the metal plate catching her forehead. The impact sliced the skin open, causing her to tumble backward against the wall.
Surprising her, she felt a gentle hand upon her arm, holding her steady. A soft voice that she knew all too well, that spoke words all too similar to his brother’s, filled her ears. “Are you alright, miss?”
In a daze, (Y/N) looked up at the dark sandy hair, vibrant blue eyes, and perfect pink lips of Boromir. Too stunned to speak, she merely stared at him, every thought that had occupied her mind vanishing in the moment.
Boromir turned towards the group of soldiers who had caused the commotion and knocked her down. With a tone infused with authority and anger, he snapped at them, “Watch where you are going!”
They turned, initially confused and uncertain of Boromir's reprimand until they spotted the frightened and injured girl beside him.
“What kind of soldiers are you that you let your steel hit a woman!” Boromir added, his irritation even more obvious. “Keep better track of your things—and your forms!”
The soldiers nodded, though their indifference was evident, and they shuffled away without much concern.
Boromir turned back to (Y/N), repeating his prior question, his tone gentle once more. “I apologize for the actions of my men. I will reprimand them later, but right now you are more important, yes? Miss?”
She looked up at him, blinking. He didn’t recognize her, did he?
“You’re bleeding,” he stated softly, his finger pressed gently upon her forehead.
A quiet gasp of pain escaped (Y/N)’s lips and her expressions distorted slightly.
“My apologies. I did not mean to make your pain worse. May I take you to the infirmary? We can get that treated.”
Unsure what to say—and what an infirmary was—she nervously dipped her head.
“Alright,” he began. “Let’s get you moving.”
Gently, he helped her move away from the wall, one arm wrapped around her waist. However, with a couple steps, her vision swirled and she stumbled.
Boromir caught her quickly. “Whoa, whoa. Slow down. Just a step at a time.” His brows pulled together as he looked down at her. “Are you dizzy? Is the room spinning?”
“I—I,” she stuttered. “Y-yes, uh, sir.”
He released a heated breath from his nose, the anger at the men who had harmed her simmering within him. However, he pushed it away, ensuring his attention remained on her. "How about you sit back down? Lean against the wall to keep you upright, yes?"
(Y/N) nodded, allowing him to help lower her to the stone floor. As the coldness rushed through her bones and the stillness began to steady, she looked up at him. “T-thank you,” she whispered. “Uh, sir.”
The captain smiled softly. “You may call me Boromir.”
She nodded slightly.
Boromir looked up and stopped a passing servant. “Could you please fetch me a medical kit from the infirmary? Just basic supplies.”
The man nodded, accepting the order, and rushed off. Moments later, he returned with various materials in a small box.
Boromir expressed his gratitude as he opened the kit. Without hesitation, he took hold of a soft cloth and gently swiped it upwards, collecting the blood that was now trickling down (Y/N)’s forehead. He then pressed it against the cut that was bleeding rather heavily. "Hold this there," he commanded gently.
The woman reached up to follow his instructions, and Boromir proceeded to lay out an array of little bottles and scraps of cloth. "What is your name?" he inquired as he doused a cloth in the liquids of one of the containers.
Her eyes followed his motions nervously. “(Y/N),” she replied timidly.
The Captain smiled, attempting to provide some comfort. “Are you from around here, (Y/N)?”
She shook her head.
“No? What are you doing in these parts then?” He asked.
“I—I don’t know.”
Boromir frowned, looking up at her from the medical supplies. She appeared more disoriented than he had initially expected. Perhaps the blow to the head was more substantial than he had thought?
“You don’t know?” He questioned, no alarm in his tone. Meanwhile, he began threading a needle, preparing it for the task of stitching her forehead. “Have you come with anyone? A husband? A father?”
She frowned, a blush creeping into her face at the implications of his words. “N-no. Alone.”
Boromir pressed his lips together, a sudden loneliness hitting him—one that he knew all too well—as he placed the threaded needle upon a clean cloth.
“Do you have a place to stay?”
She shook her head.
“Hmm. Alright. Let’s get you cleaned up, then we can worry about that.”
Boromir took the cloth from her forehead, his hand brushing upon hers as he did so. He then began bringing a damp cloth towards her face.
Instantly, her eyes went wide and she ducked away from the material. “It’s alright. It’s alright. It’s just alcohol.” He replied, lowering the cloth.
“N-not water?” She whispered, almost fearful.
He shook his head. “Nay. Water would not clean it properly. This will prevent any infection, though I’m afraid it will sting a bit. Is that alright?”
Slowly, (Y/N) nodded.
Boromir pressed the cloth to the cut and, instantly, she hissed.
“I know, I am sorry,” he murmured.
Gently, he cleaned the wound, being careful to not make any sudden movements that may startle her. When he was certain it was clean, he moved to pick up the needle.
“I will have to stitch it back together so it heals properly.” He looked into her worried gaze and he instantly felt guilt tugging at his heart. It appeared she had never experienced such an injury, or perhaps she had but never received proper treatment for one.
Cautiously, he used his other hand to pick up her own. Her soft palms brushed upon his hardened calloused, gentleness upon her touch. Placing her hand upon his knee, he spoke softly, “If it hurts too much just squeeze really really hard, and I will pause, alright? It is important that you keep your head still, yes?”
She nodded, adjusting her grip upon his knee, a mixture of anticipation and anxiety in her eyes.
Slowly, Boromir began the delicate task of stitching her skin back together. Her grip tightened upon him, only slightly, as she adjusted to the strange sensation of tugging on her skin.
"You are doing beautifully, (Y/N). We are almost done. I promise," the Captain reassured her. As he finished the last stitch and skillfully moved the thread to knot itself, he breathed out, "There we go," placing the needle back upon the cloth. He smiled gently, a reassuring warmth in his eyes, as he carefully cleaned the area around the stitches. "All finished," Boromir stated before leaning back, (Y/N)’s hand slipping from his knee.
“It will be sore for a bit,” he said. “But it should heal in a week. The stitching will fall out on its own, so if it starts to come out, do not worry. Though, I would advise you not to get it wet.”
At that last sentence, (Y/N) smiled softly. She wasn’t planning on getting wet—not anytime soon.
“Can you stand? Has the dizziness subsided?”
The woman nodded and slowly rose to her feet, taking Boromir’s hand when he offered it.
“Let’s find you a place to rest while you heal. And I would like to apologize for my soldiers’ actions once more. You are welcome to stay in Minas Tirith as long as you would like. I will make sure you get everything you need.”
(Y/N) looked up at his kind expression and spoke with that same nervous hesitancy. “Thank you.…Boromir.”
The captain guided her through the castle, arriving at a room. He opened the door and gestured inside with a soft smile. "It is yours to stay in. I will ensure the maids are alerted to provide you with adequate care. If you need anything else, my chambers are just down the hallway to the right, the second door."
She nodded in reply.
He bowed his head. “I will leave you then, miss.”
With that, he was gone.
(Y/N) moved to the center of the room and slowly spun around taking it all in. It was massive and airy. The windows were wind open, the sea breeze rushing in and caring hints of the city. The white curtains blew with that gentle wind, dancing in its whispers. The walls of the chamber were adorned with intricate tapestries depicting only what she could assume to be the legendary tales of the city. They were woven with beautiful silver and turquoise thread, catching the light so delicately. A bed sat in the middle of the room, soft white blankets and comforters piled on it. (Y/N) walked towards it and gently sat upon the fabric. It was….strange. Very different from the large shells she was used to curling up in.
Feeling a sudden tiredness take over her form, she laid down with ease. Resting her head upon the pillow, she allowed sleep to consume her.
…….
When she finally woke, the sun had set, and the stars took their place among the blanket of the sky. Cautiously, she pulled her legs from the cage of blankets and let them dangle off the side of the bed. They looked so….strange upon her form. She was used to her glimmering tail that collected light to share among the waters. Not—not this. She lowered her feet upon the stone floor, almost startled by the coldness that greeted them.
Hunger settled into her stomach as she moved towards the door. However, she found herself at a loss, unsure where to find a meal at this time. The markets were long since closed and she knew not where the kitchen in the Minas Tirith castle was. Of course, she could wander down to the tavern that Boromir frequented regularly—she knew the way well enough, but she didn't have any means to pay.
(Y/N) shifted on her feet. Boromir did say she could come to him if she needed anything….
Almost as if it were an excuse to see him again, she slipped through the door and began following his directions to his chambers. With every step, her heart pounded harder. She would get to see him again—and it wouldn't be through layers of water.
Upon arrival, the door stood ajar, allowing a whisper of cold air to drift from his open windows. Cautiously, she peered into the room. It was shrouded in darkness, with only the soft glow of the moon reflecting upon the vast room—oh, and what a beautiful room it was. The room eluded a captivating chaos, in the most exciting way. Tablets and shelves were filled with various items—maps, books, stones, germs, inventions, and trinkets. The room held a multitude of objects, each beckoning to be looked at, studied, and pondered—igniting a sense of wonder and an urge to guess the intention. Oh, it was a captivating sight.
“Boromir?” she called out.
Silence.
Slowly, (Y/N) stepped in. She let her feet carry her throughout the room, her hand brushing upon every object that her eyes could consume. She picked things up, examined them, then put them down for another. She did so continuously, urgently, the thirst for knowledge of the humans’ customs eager in her blood. She did so, until she came across something familiar—something she was surprised to see.
(Y/N) picked up the bone carved whale from the shelf that it rested on.
He had kept it.
A little grin formed on her face, for after his conversation with Iwar she didn’t think he would.
“Does that one interest you?” A soft tone asked.
(Y/N) jumped, startled.
Boromir chuckled lightly, stepping into the room. “I am sorry. I didn't mean to startle you.”
She glanced down at the whale carving before looking back to him.
“I am not quite sure how that one came into my possession,” he continued as he moved to stand beside her.
She frowned, looking up. Her eyes were now direct at him, focused and stern—for the first time since he had met her. He would be lying if he said it didn't startle him a bit.
“You don't remember?” she asked, her tone strong.
“Well, no it’s not that. Of course, I remember how I got it. It just was a bit peculiar.”
(Y/N) tilted her head, not understanding.
Boromir sighed, his tone was distant as he spoke, his blue gaze not wavering from her curious eyes that suddenly seemed so bold. “A friend of mine says it's a dark omen, ment to mark me for death.” His vision trailed across her face. “He says it is made of the bone of my fallen brothers, urging me to follow them to their deaths.”
“Do you believe that?”
He blinked, his gaze lingering upon the whale. “I do not know what to believe.” Boromir looked at her expression. “What are your thoughts on such a statement?”
(Y/N) shrugged, placing the whale in its spot upon the shelf. “I believe people don’t understand other cultures and customs. I believe they make their own assumptions out of ignorance and fear.”
The captain raised a brow at her intelligence. “You are feeling better then?”
“Hmm?” (Y/N) hummed in question as she moved to another object.
“Well, that is the most I have heard you speak since I met you. You are wiser than you appear to be.”
She only shrugged in response, picking up a telescope and looking through its glass—by the wrong end.
“Though,” Boromir continued in a teasing manner as he plucked the object from her grasp, turned it the correct way, and placed it back in her palms. “That wisdom seems not to extend to everything.”
She frowned, looking through the glass once before placing it down. She then went for a music box, her confused expression deepening. “We do not have all these….these things where I am from.”
Boromir reached across her and twisted the little lever, releasing the gentle music from its hold. “And where is that, may I ask?”
At the twinkling sound, her smile, born of pure delight, extended from her expression. Her response to his question, however, was only that of a simple word, “Far.”
The captain raised a brow. “How far?”
(Y/N) shot him a strange look, placing the music box down and picking up a crystal sphere instead. “You ask a lot of questions,” she mumbled.
He grinned playfully. “You do not seem to give many answers, Miss (Y/N).”
She glared at him.
With that playful smile, he spoke again. “Would it help if you got to ask a question?”
(Y/N)‘s eyes crinkled with thought as she placed the object down and turned towards him. She saw how his shoulders slumped ever so slightly, how the circles under his eyes appeared so dark, how his expression was so hollow. Softly, she spoke again. “Why are you so sad, Boromir?”
Taken aback by this, his lips parted. “I—I do not know what you mean.”
She took a step closer to him, a step that nearly eliminated the space between them, and her piercing gaze burned up at him for the truth.
Hesitantly, he whispered that truth, as if she compelled it right out of him. “I—I recently was in a shipwreck. I thought, well, I thought I was dead—left for the watery graves below.” He paused, just for a moment. “But yet I am here and I do not know why. And, I am beginning to question things that I know, well, thought I knew, for the world appears different now.”
Silence.
Boromir's soft voice then picked up again, his breath warm upon the woman’s face. “Why are you so sad, (Y/N)?”
At this, her shy nature returned. (Y/N) turned her head away, not wanting to look at the source of her sadness.
Gently, Boromir tugged on her chin, forcing her to look at him. “You implored me to tell you such a truth,” he whispered. “May I not ask the same of you?”
(Y/N)’s tone was soft. “My truth is complicated.”
“Are not all truths complicated?” he responded.
With that, she withdrew from his grasp—a hold she desperately craved—and created enough distance between them, leaving him to wonder if such closeness had occurred at all.
A loud grumble then echoed through the dark room—splitting the darkness with something else, something much for lighthearted.
“When have you last eaten?” Boromir asked.
Her brows pulled together as she looked at her stomach.
He chuckled, offering her his hand. “Come. Let’s get you some food. I can take you to my favorite place.”
“But I—I have no coin,” she whispered shyly.
“You are a guest of Gondor, Gondor will see you fed.”
(Y/N) smiled, that innocent gaze returning. She hesitantly took his hand and he led her through the castle and towards the tavern.
The two arrived at the tavern rather quickly. Urine, stale ale, and sweat flooded (Y/N)’s nostrils—familiar aromas reminiscent of her vigilant watch over Boromir along the Anduin River. The lively atmosphere enveloped the pair. In the corner, a bard sang to the patrons, his melodic voice resonating throughout, enticing some to join in. Drunk men, tapping their feet along to the beat of the tune, howled in laughter and glee as they clinked their ales together and shoveled food into their mouths. Requests for additional drinks prompted maidens, adorned in long skirts and aprons, to gracefully deliver brimming glasses, the foaming liquid sloshing about.
(Y/N) smiled, taking in the environment.
Boromir cast a glance at her out of the corner of his eye, a smirk pulling at the corner of his lips. “It’s just a tavern.”
She turned to him, her grin unwavering. “We don’t have taverns where I am from.”
He raised a brow. “And where is that? You never said.”
She shrugged. “Far.”
(Y/N) moved deeper into the tavern, with Boromir following suit. He motioned towards an available table, and they both took a seat. Before long, a serving maiden approached. Boromir signaled for two meals and two ales, and they promptly arrived.
The woman wasted no time and eagerly indulged in her food, swiftly emptying the plate.
Boromir tried to suppress a smile as he saw this, for he was glad she was getting proper nutrition after her likely long and hard journey. He, of course, wished to know more of her origins; though, he could see she wasn't quite ready to discuss such things. Instead, he opted to answer any and all questions she had which began with her curious tone.
“Boromir, would you be willing to tell me of your city? How you live in these parts? I wish to know.”
His soft gaze made contact with hers and he nodded, chewing his food and swallowing before he spoke. “What would you wish to know?”
“Everything—its structures, its people, its culture, its history.”
Therefore, Boromir spoke of such things. He described the White City's towering architecture, the valor of its people, and the complexities of the various beliefs held. He relayed its history and tales, showcasing the values of the Gondorian people.
His narratives ignited a spark in her eyes, drew laughter from her lips, and filled her heart with joy.
Fuck the forbidden indeed.
As the hours stretched on, Boromir’s friends joined them. (Y/N) could see the gleam in their eyes and catch the less-than-subtle teasing tones as they whispered about Boromir bringing a lady to their tavern. Faramir, arriving shortly after, seemed prepared for a night of dealing with his drunken brother, only to find himself pleasantly surprised by his brother's apparent sobriety and the joy the unknown woman seemed to bring to his melancholy soul.
Yet, amid the cheerful atmosphere, a pair of shifting gray eyes belonging to an old man that (Y/N) recognized as Iwar, kept her uneasy heart alert.
…..
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nohoney · 9 months
Note
I have an idea, can we get siren (merman) Hawks and can it be smut/fluffy...please
-👁
i’ve never been one to be able to write about any fantasy creatures whatsoever but this was actually kind of fun (๑˃ᴗ˂)
warnings: oral sex (receiving), fingering (receiving), some dirty talk (imagined by the reader), a little bittersweet at the end sorry
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The air is warm, sunlight peeks through the breaks of the trees, and you walk further down the path to the lake that you’ve been visiting since the beginning of spring last year. A picnic basket is carried by your side, it’s contents slightly rattling as you walk the paved dirt path. The straps of your dress fall down your shoulder every once in a while and you think that once you stop to rest that you should tighten the bows a little bit so that you’re not always adjusting them.
You break into a little jog once you see the end of the path despite your flip flops not being meant for more than a leisurely walk.
A small pond with a little waterfall is your destination. There’s a wooden dock that you can tell has been standing strong and shows no sign of giving way anytime soon. Perhaps in another fifty years it will start to show some wear but right now, it’s sturdy.
You sit at the very end of the dock, making sure to take your flip flops off first and setting your basket aside next to you. The water level has risen; you know this because last year the water only reached your ankle when you dipped your feet in and this year, the water is up last your calves. There was a lot of rain and while you’re grateful for it, you also don’t want it to submerge the dock either.
Kicking your feet in the water, it creates ripples and disturbs the water lilies nearby.
A head of blond hair pops out from the surface of the water, yellow eyes trained on you swimming beneath the surface to approach. “There you are,” you greet to your friend, “I brought a picnic for us today.”
The head disappears beneath the surface, leaving you alone for a few seconds, the splash of water and wet hands grip onto your calves. When you look down, you see the handsome face of man but beneath the surface of the water, he’s mythical.
Last year, you discovered him.
You moved to town two years ago in the winter and hadn’t made any friends yet. Loneliness settled heavily on you as you struggled to connect with the folks of this town but it’s hard to break into the inner circles of a place where the population is only used to knowing each other. In trying to make conversation with the townsfolk, you heard a lot of talk of avoiding the lake in the middle of the forest. That apparently some parents tried to drown their child in the lake and it came back as a ghastly creature to haunt the water and the surrounding shores of it as well.
You took their little fairytale as a bunch of hooey and decided to walk to that lake.
When you walked the path, it was no different than any trail you had been to before. However coming closer to the break in the trees, you saw a dock and someone swimming in the water. There was some wariness from you when you saw it was a man. Only his head popped up from the water and he seemed very focused on something in the tree branches that reached over the water.
You peered quietly at first, following his line of vision to see a hawk just perched on a tree branch.
When you called out, it startled both the bird and the young man. The hawk took flight and the man in the water was frightened by your presence. He was quick to look back at you before going into the water. You ran to the dock, shouting that you were friendly and your eyes were searching for air bubbles to find him. Your immediate action was to jump in after him.
It was the day you discovered that mermaids… or rather a merman was real.
He had a beautiful tail of red scales that shimmered underneath the sunlight and he seemed to have a liking for the hawk that circled the lake.
So you named him Hawks.
Unusual name for a sea creature but he responded to it once he had gotten used to your presence.
“Here, I brought you an egg today. Hard boiled this time.” You offered to Hawks, already having peeled the shell off. Last time you tried to give him soft boiled but he hated it. He looks reluctantly at it and shakes his head, a gesture that you had taught him since you found he had very little communication. “Oh don’t worry, it’s not runny like last time.”
To prove it, you bite into the top half of the bed. The yolk is firm and a little dry as you chew, but it’s for your friend and not yourself.
Hawks is still reluctant.
“If you don’t want it, that’s okay. But it just means that you won’t get your favorite,” you sing the last word and watch how he perks up, “chicken.”
Hawks grunts and pats his hand at your knee, almost as if he were a child. His hand reaches towards you, eager at the mention of his favorite food. You place the half eaten egg in his palm before pushing his hand back to him. You giggle when he pouts at the egg and looks back up at you; you can tell he feels a little betrayed.
“Just try it, okay? You know how to show me if you don’t like something right?”
You taught him small ways to communicate, often with simple hand gestures. If he doesn’t like something, he’s supposed to cover his mouth with his hand. If he does, he taps his lips twice and then points to what he likes.
Again, like a child, he takes the egg and chews with puffed up cheeks. As you wait for his evaluation, you reach for the plastic container inside the picnic basket but you don’t quite bring it out just yet. He needs to properly tell you whether he likes something or not.
Hawks seems to mull it over before putting his hand over his mouth.
“Okay, I won’t bring you eggs anymore then.” You say with a little confirming nod. The container from the picnic basket is brought out and Hawks bounces in the water in excitement. The little, excited grunts he makes make you shake your head with a smile. You hand him a hearty piece of cooked chicken and it’s practically snatched from you.
Nothing that you haven’t been used to for a good while now.
You give him pieces of chicken with one hand and feed yourself with a sandwich the the other. The sun is warm on your skin, the water is cool, and Hawks is nuzzling your shins as you finish feeding yourself once all the chicken was gone.
Slowly you start to pack up everything inside your picnic basket. You wished that you didn’t have to go, truthfully you hated leaving him by himself, but you still had a life to attend to. Plus also needing to cook his favorite foods as well. “Okay Hawks, I’ll try to see if I can stop by in a few days?”
You start to lift your legs out the water but Hawks hugs your legs to keep you in place.
When he does that, you know it’s because he’s feeling a little lonely.
“I’m sorry Hawks, I know you’re sad that I have to go. I’ll try to come the soonest I can, okay?” You apologize to him, reaching down cup his cheek. He leans into your palm, affectionately humming but whines sadly when you retreat your hand back. He taps his lips twice and points to you. “I like you too Hawks.”
Slowly, he parts your legs and pushes the skirt of your dress up. Again he taps his lips twice and points to in between your legs, this time sticking his tongue out.
“Oh… I don’t know about today.”
Aside from keeping his actual presence a secret, this of course stays strictly between the two of you. Not that Hawks had the capability of saying anything or anyone knew of his presence. Sometimes you laid in bed at night thinking about him, reminiscing how curious he is about your body and how you let him explore his curiosity.
Hawks repeats his action, his brows furrowing and insisting with a pout that is working its magic on you.
He ends up getting what he wants when he presses a kiss to your knee, looking at you through his eyelashes and humming.
“… Okay.”
You discard your dress and fold it neatly before setting it aside. Hawks has a smile on his face that you pretend to not see as you slip your underwear off your body. Your calves are used to the temperature of the water but you still let out a little squeal as you join him in the water.
Hawks swims up to you and shows how happy he is by giving you a hug, affectionately nuzzling your cheek. Even though you hadn’t necessarily planned to have this type of visit with him, a part of you is flattered that he has these kinds of feelings for you and wants to act on them.
He pulls back, only to give you a quick kiss on the lips, smiling at you before sinking beneath the water’s surface. His lips kiss at your tummy before sinking lower, his hands carefully holding your hips and pats your butt as a signal.
I’m going to start now.
You gasp when he shyly licks at you as just a little tease, focusing on the view ahead of you and at a water lily floating on the water. “Oh…” you whisper quietly as closes his mouth over your cunt, licking away at you with the same eagerness he was displaying before. “H-Hawks… oh fuck.”
If only there was some way for you to be able to breathe underwater with him. To see his face and what kind of expressions as he eats you out. He’s beautiful so you know that if you were to see him look up at you as he ate you out, he’d set the butterflies in your tummy fluttering.
When you first let him explore his curiosity, he was just as shy as you were. You could tell by his touches and he could tell by the way you’d jerk whenever you were unprepared to receive his touch. But at this point of your bond, the two of you were definitely used to each other.
Not to say that he didn’t make you flustered sometimes.
Hawks seemed to be able to express himself just fine without words and without difficulty. Something in his nature or perhaps you happened to sync well with him, the two of you were able to understand one another clearly. How was it the best communication you had in a relationship, it was with someone that couldn’t speak any discernible words at all?
“Oh god!” You gasp again before you let out a small moan. Hawks licks you enthusiastically, carefully pushing a finger into your pussy, something that he learned after observing you in the early stages of the two of you showing interest in one another. You remembered how you shyly opened your legs while sitting at the dock one day and confessing to him that you dreamt of him. You remember his curious eyes watching your fingers dip into your dripping cunt and just how fascinated he became.
Your head falls back and you dip one hand beneath the water to grasp at Hawks’ hair. You bite your bottom lip to try to keep your noises in even though you were more than sure that no one else except him would hear you.
Sometimes you wonder what he’d sound like if he was able to speak. You imagine his voice would be smooth, pleasing to your ears and that he could make you laugh. In your selfish little mind, he says all the right things that make your heart race.
You’re a good girl, my wonderful girl…
The tip of his tongue prods against your clit and you let out an audible moan into the air.
The way you sound is so sexy, I fucking love it!
Your hips rock into his mouth, almost like you’re riding his face. His hands are secure on holding your waist to help keep you afloat. Sparks of pleasure go up and down your body, your thighs slightly shaky as your orgasm starts build higher.
Sweet, precious thing… I adore you.
Your hand clenches into a fist and grabs a fistful of Hawks’ hair while your mouth drops into a silent ‘oh’. Your eyes flutter as you experience your high, still caught off guard over how well Hawks has learned how to make you cum. He was intelligent enough to discern that you were experiencing pleasure, smart enough to see if you were sad over something, and he always seemed to be looking into you just as you were looking into him.
He always looked like he was in wonder whenever he stared at you too long.
Hawks comes up from the water and you loop your arms around him in a hug, pressing a kiss to his cheek and just hanging onto him like a sloth. You were wanting to catch your breath. He doesn’t seem to be done with you just yet, sliding his hand between your bodies and pushes two fingers into your pussy. “Oh… you’re not done?” You ask but have difficulty keeping conversation when you’re still sensitive from an orgasm and he keeps curling his fingers into you.
Your body shudders as you let him finger you, a part of you wondering if he liked the feel of his fingers inside your warm cunt. More than a few times he’d point to in between your legs and hold up his middle and index finger up as a signal and pointing at himself. Eventually you had learned that it was his way of saying that he wanted to finger you.
“H-Hawks… are you done? I have to go back soon.” You whimper as he continues to tease his fingers against that spongy spot that makes you see heaven. Your cunt squeezes around his fingers and a big part of you wishes that he had a cock so that you could know what it was like to fuck him.
You could see him being a little whiny as he cums in you, lying back to let you take control as you ride him. You’d milk him dry and make a creamy mess on his dick, wanting to make him just as over sensitive in the same way he does it to you.
You wished that you could fuck Hawks.
Cumming a second time by his fingers, you pat at his shoulder and he retreats from you. This time, he returns your hug and holds you close. Your legs cross around his waist and you stay for a small moment just holding one another.
A kiss is pressed to your forehead.
I miss you already.
In return, you do the same to him.
I always miss you.
You wished that he could come with you.
You try hard to not look at him as you begin to get ready to leave because of the sad look in his eye. There are days that he seems to be okay as you head home, but others he makes it very known when he’s sad. And you know that the more time you spend together, each goodbye will get harder and more forlorn.
“Okay Hawks, I’m going to go now. I’ll try to visit soon.”
He nods his head, watching from the water as you take your picnic basket and the straps of your dress fall off your shoulder. You walk ahead and make sure to keep looking forward, eventually hearing when he dives under the water and you can let out the sad sigh you were holding in.
“I’ll visit you again soon.”
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riddlesrose · 9 months
Text
oddly specific fontaine hcs!
w/ lyney, lynette, ferminet, focalors, charlotte, wriothesely & neuvillette
cw; posted before the release of any of them so this is most likely going to look very ooc in a few weeks
lyney 
i’d see bro being really good at cartwheels and handstands
orange juice man
very skilled with his hands, he gives good massages, he’s able to unstick those flat lego bricks from one another, and can type really quickly no matter the surface or device
almost tore the whole of fontaine apart when he lost his best deck of cards. turns out ferminet hid them and lynette played along like she knew nothing
lynette 
fantastic cook, cooks for her brothers all the time when they say ‘please lynette?’ with their big bug eyes, she never says no..
apple juice gal
once threatened to physically attack a man if he did not leave her and her brothers alone
can do a front and back flip from standing 
freminet
has a collection of small figurines that only lyney and lynette know about
fruit punch guy
secretly has watched all the tinkerbell movies and cried during the neverbeast one. me too dude me too.
very picky eater, the twins help him find good places to eat when they’re not home, and lynette cooks or preps meals for when her and lyney aren’t going to be home, thought fermi promises he can cook for himself
fermi is the nickname i now call him
focalors
kind of implied canon but loved arguing with people, even if she knows she's wrong at one point, she’ll just egg them on until she’s had enough
does NOT like zhongli. no explanation.
attacks kids online 
knows fluent sign language
an absolute menace to ask for a favour, she’ll do it no doubt but she’ll ask for six things in return, roll her eyes so far into the back of her head and drag her feet but when she comes back she’s basically bouncing off the walls, she meant absolutely none of what she asked for or said . she just likes teasing
charlotte
weirdly good at cards, lyney onced challenged her to a simple game of cards when he heard her boasting about being the best in fontaine at cards, needless to say lyney never asked charlotte to play cards again. 
had a pet duck as a kid (it wasn’t hers, she just found a family of ducks at a pond one day and cried when it swam away from her)
also attacks kids online
allergic to peanuts and vinegar
wriothesely
fell down the stairs as a child. 
has a do not disturb aura surrounding him until he’s had his morning coffee and read the paper
scares adults more than children, kids are oddly drawn to him
diona wouldn’t mind him if they ever met but to klee, he’s another on the weird adult list
the ‘kid’ online. 
wrio is able to sleep anywhere honestly. cars? yes. trains? of course. the couch? where’s the blanket.
neuvillette
the bow in his hair was given to him by an elderly lady one day when she noticed him fighting with his hair, she told him to keep it, little does the sweet lady know, he still wears it subconsciously, as he doesn't want to fight with his hair again 
i feel like he’d be one to enjoy being around young people with their carefree lives, i think him and klee would get along, not diona though. 
does not like eggs??
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bunnyley00 · 5 months
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Late Night Drive
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pairings: fem!reader x dabi
genre: fluff
word count: 816
warnings: none. (just some quick fluff i thought of after listening to Love Lockdown one too many times.)
It takes your boyfriend letting you know he'd hit you with his car to know that he truly does love you.
Monotonous. Today was monotonous, yet maddening all at the same time. Anxiety has a funny way of keeping the mind and body separate, running both ragged until patience runs thin and all signs of energy are depleted. Today was no different, just another day at a 9 to 5 for minimum wage. 
The end of your shift didn’t come fast enough, and the sound of the time clock beeping at your senses when you clocked out was music to your overstimulated ears. Mumbling a weak ‘bye’ to everyone, you made your way out to the parking lot. God, it was really cold outside, the parking lot empty save for the cars of the very few colleagues inside the building. You could see your breath as it left your parted lips, the wispy fog white in your dark surroundings. Just as you reached for your phone, you heard his car before you even saw it, the sound of him accelerating up the quiet street gaining your attention. 
He pulled in slowly, stopping in front of the doors. His all black, matte Mercedes was comforting to see. You wasted no time, getting in the passenger’s seat with a loud sigh and closing the door. You fastened your seatbelt around your body, looking over at him. He was smirking.
“What’s so amusing, Bacon Bits? Do you find my suffering funny?,” you jest, raising an eyebrow.
“You look like you want to get hit by a car every time I pick you up from this place,” he easily spoke up.  The bags under your eyes practically screamed this fact to him, the dark circles visible even in the dimly lit interior of the car.
“Maybe I do,” you murmured, taking your work hat off and squirming in the seat as he pulled off. You took your apron off, as well as your shirt, leaving you in your black cami and blue jeans.
“You can get out and I can help you out with that.” Dabi jerked his head in the direction of the hood of his car, readjusting in his seat as he flew past cars on the fancy residential streets.
“Nice try, Dabi. You wouldn’t hit me even if you wanted to. How are you gonna get my blood off of your car?,” you scoff.
“Valid.” You hit him with a small smile. “You dick. No, ‘Of course I wouldn’t hit my beautiful girlfriend with my sports car. I love her too much.’?”
“I think you put beautiful in front of the wrong word,” he said dryly, softly caressing the inside of the driver door. The sight made you roll your eyes. 
“I hate you.” 
“You love me.” 
His voice was soft, and it contributed to your warmth in the leather covered seat. 
You both grew silent as he made his way onto the interstate. You closed your eyes, laying your head back against the seat. Feeling the car accelerate, you listened to the hum of the engine. 
“Where are we going?” The question was nearly inaudible. 
“Food,” he said plainly, letting the sun roof down. Despite the cold, you didn’t complain. You opened your eyes to look up at the night sky, the chill knocking whatever fatigue still lingered in your body for the time being. 
You watched a slender finger touch the monitor on the dash, music erupting through the speaker. The bass shook you like a rock disrupting the surface of a pond, the ripples of sound seeming to travel though your body as he weaved in and out of lanes on the oddly empty freeway. 
‘I’m not loving you, way I wanted to. What I had to do, had to run from you. I’m in love with you, but the vibe is wrong. And that haunted me all the way home.’ 
You shifted your gaze again to look at him, eyes bored yet focused at the same time. His blue irises looked like they were glowing under the passing lights on the interstate. He switched gears again before getting comfortable, putting his hand on your thigh. He gave it a small squeeze, and it meant more than whatever he could’ve said at that moment. 
Stomach full and body pressed against his, you let your hand travel up to his white hair, playing with the ends of it. 
“Maybe you’re right,” you say quietly, and he pulls back his face to look at you in the dark. 
“About, Dollface?”, he asks in return, voice raspy from his half asleep state.
“I do love you, idiot.” 
He says nothing in response, pulling your figure closer to kiss you. “Mmhmm, yeah,  that’s nice. Ow- quit hitting me.” 
“Stupid.” 
“I love you too. Now go the hell to sleep before I make you.” 
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<3 - leyley
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haddonfieldwhore · 10 months
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the apparition - vessel
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vessel (sleep token) x gn!reader
warnings: angst, inhuman?vessel, i think that’s it
words count: 2.1k
a warm breeze surrounded you as you played with the tall grass, and smiled as a dark cloaked figure approached you, reaching the edge of the pond you sat with your legs dangling in. the crystal water sparkled and rippled as you kicked your legs gently back and forth, and the figure stood towering over you.
“hello,” you greeted the stranger, who despite his odd appearance gave no indication that he meant you any harm. in fact, you felt quite the opposite; like you were safe now that he was here. this unfamiliar expanse had been so lonely until he arrived, no matter how beautiful it was. the sun beamed down on your skin, kissing any areas that were not hidden beneath clothing, as you enjoyed the warm water at your feet.
“hello, my dear.” the stranger greeted you like you would an old friend, in a voice like deep velvet that brought a feeling of warmth to your chest, butterflies storming in your stomach as he smiled at you.
“would you like to sit with me?”
“i would.” he sat on the plush grass next to you, and you wondered aloud how he wasn’t too warm dressed in the ornate coat he wore and the white mask that covered all of his face but his chin. “how long have you been here?” he asked, and your smile dropped. you weren’t sure. how could you not know how long you had been in this place? had the pretty flowers and singing birds really distracted you that much? the thought seemed to leave your mind as you simply smiled back, all anxieties leaving you as you replied.
“not very long. it’s beautiful here, don’t you think?” you looked out at the flowing water again, the wind drawing the scent of the blooming flowers to your nose as well as a different fragrance… something familiar, but forgotten.
“it is magnificent, indeed.” he said, the way his eyes were locked on you rather that your surrounding going unnoticed.
“what is your name, my new friend?”
“you may call me vessel,” he replied, his hands picking up a stone and skipping it across the surface of the water with ease. you noticed his torso beneath his coat was painted black, as well as his arms all the way down to his fingertips. you reached for his hand, lifting it gently in yours to examine it, but he drew it back quickly.
“i- im sorry. i didn’t mean to-“
“i apologize,” he shushed, extending his hand out to you. “you startled me, but please, go ahead.” he allowed you to take his larger hand in his, and you were shocked at how cold he was.
“how are your hands so cold in this heat?” you asked, holding his hand between both of yours in an attempt to warm them. it was working, though vessel felt the warmth in his heart rather than his hands, and his heart fluttered the feeling of your touch. oh, how he would give anything to feel it forever; he had missed it so much.
“it is nothing-“ he began to say, but the words caught in his throat as you innocently touched his exposed abdomen, only a small gasp leaving his mouth instead. your touch sent shockwaves through him, so powerful it nearly hurt, but he wished more than anything to feel it again.
“you’re freezing! are you okay?” you asked, oblivious to the effect you had on him, as he placed a hand over yours.
“i assure you, you need not worry for me.”
“it might be warmer in the water if you’re cold,” you suggested, standing up and beginning to wade into the pond, the water in fact comfortably warm on your skin as it reached nearly above your knees now.
“i do not-“
“oh come on, don’t your trust me?” you stopped him from protesting, pulling him by his hand out into the water. he dropped your hand briefly but only to remove his coat, leaving his torso bare save for a black silk shirt, the fabric flowing in the breeze as it hung unbuttoned from his shoulders.
‘of course i trust you’ vessel thought, he would trust his life and everything in it to you. the water lapped at your stomach as you waded into deeper water, soft heads and sand under your feet as you led vessel further from the shore. you stopped as the water neared your chest, and vessel looked down at you as you placed a hand on his collarbone.
“how is it….” you asked, rubbing you thumb and finger together, in awe that the black paint that covered his skin remained even in the water. his hand wrapped tenderly around you wrist, and you looked up at him, meeting his gaze even through the mask, his dark eyes gleaming as he locked eyes with you.
“i must ask… a personal question.” he spoke almost hesitantly. mesmerized by his gaze, you could only nod for him to continue as he lowered your hands into the water, although not letting go. “do you believe we have lived other lives in the past?” your lips parted slightly in surprise at such a suggestion, but your expression sooner changed to a smile.
“we must have, don’t you think?”
“yes, we must have.”
you thought for a moment, pondering the idea some more and clouds began to pass overhead.
“i wonder if we ever met in another lifetime? like thousands of years ago or something.” vessels heart ached, how was it that you truly didn’t remember? or was this some sick joke being played on him? nonetheless, he smiled at you again, praying that you would never let go of his hand; that he could hold onto you forever, even if it was just like this. how he wished he could make you remember all the times he had held you before, how he had cradled you in his arms as you slept, how you had kissed him softly each time you woke, how you had laced your fingers together when you walked side by side.
“perhaps we have…. long ago,” he agreed instead. his answer seemed to satisfy you, and you began to walk deeper into the pond, the water nearly to your shoulders now. had the pond always been this vast? it had not seemed this big from the shore, vessel thought to himself. the clouds in the sky above began to darken, and the breeze grew cool as your hand fell from his grasp, his fingertips outstretched toward you as you finally stopped, seemingly looking at something in the distance. vessel followed after you, the thin material of his shirt clinging to his torso as it became soaked, the water tickling his ribcage as he reached for you again, a gentle hand on your shoulder catching your attention. you turned to face him, but rather than looking at him, you looked at the sky as raindrops began to fall around your huddled forms.
“i love when it rains,” you stated, and vessel smiled. he knew you did, he knew everything about you. in fact, there was a time when you had known near everything about him as well. his soul yearned for that again, or even a fraction of what it felt like to be understood in the way you once had known him.
“i do as well. someone i…cared for once, loved the rain very much.” vessel spoke cautiously, as if it hurt him to say the words, praying that you would not ask questions. but alas, you remained innocently curious, and he could never hold that against you.
“what were they like?” you asked, and vessel could not stop himself from taking the pad of his thumb and wiping away a stray raindrop that had fallen upon your cheekbone. despite the water having little effect on the pigment that concealed his skin before, a small smudge of it wiped off and dyed the soft flesh beneath his touch. he laughed quietly, a smile gracing his lips again despite the twinge of sadness in his heart.
“they were… quite special to me.” the way he spoke gave you the impression that it was painful to talk about, so you did not press for more details. instead, you reached out towards him, wrapping your arms around his neck in a hug that took the air out of his lungs. vessel felt as though he were standing on thin ice, cracking under his weight with every second, destined to break and send him crashing through at the slightest movement. however he decided in that moment, if that were to happen, he would have spent his last moment happier than he had been in what felt like eons, with your arms around him. your familiar scent entered his nose as he gave in, no longer able to resist the urge to wrap his arms tightly around you in return, and he decided that if he ever let go it would be too soon.
“i’m sorry. it must have been hard to lose them.” you spoke quietly with your lips next to his ear, your soft voice sending a shiver down his spine. thankfully he was able to play it off as a chill from the water that had decreased in temperature rapidly as the sun dipped behind cloud cover.
“…thank you,” he sighed, eyes closing as he tried desperately to savour the moment that you were finally in his arms again, regardless of circumstance or the pain it caused him alongside the bliss. selfishly, as you went to pull away, vessel held onto you tighter, not wanting the embrace to ever end. clinging to you shamelessly for only a few more seconds before finding the strength to pull back, holding you at arms length now, his hands resting on your lower back. “forgive me… though i needed that.”
“of course,” you smiled, both of you now entirely soaked from the rain that poured down around you. it was suddenly so loud you could barely hear as vessel spoke again.
“you must forgive me for this as well,” he breathed, before leaning forward and pressing his lips to yours in a featherlight kiss. he allowed his lips to linger on yours for only a moment, before pulling back and opening his eyes; and to his horror, you were gone.
vessel stood alone in a the now freezing water, and although his head was above it he felt like he could no longer breathe. drowning felt worse than he could have ever imagined, and it wasn’t even truly happening to him. the sky grew impossibly darker, and the only light he was granted was web-like cracks of lightening in the pitch black sky. the thunder rumbled so loud it felt like a ton of bricks, and as the world began to spin around him, vessel felt as if he was on some kind of nightmare ride he could never get off. he could feel his consciousness slipping away, and slowly sank backwards into the icy black water.
“vessel!” you called, your hands on his shoulders as you desperately tried to shake him awake. finally his eyes snapped open and he sat up with a bolt, nearly knocking you over where you sat on the edge of his bed. he looked frantically around the room before patting his chest, checking to make sure he was unharmed before his eyes landed on you. “are you okay- woah!” you gasped softly as he reached out and pulled you into his arms, trapping you in a grip so tight you nearly couldn’t breathe. knowing something must be bothering him deeply for him to act this way, you climbed into his lap and wrapped your arms around him in return.
“stay with me.” he mumbled, pleading with you not to let go.
“of course.” you agreed, nuzzling into his neck as he laid down, pulling you with him. “are you sure you’re okay?” you asked, and vessel exhaled deeply.
“just get some rest, my dear. i will be here when you wake.” he hummed. you knew that meant that in the morning vessel would not bring it up, and you dared not ask, so like all the times before, the haunting nightmares that plagued him would go unexplained. that was the price vessel had to pay for choosing to spend his life with you, a human. he was cursed to relive the same nightmare over and over again, one in which you did not remember him or the life you shared together. it got more difficult to bare each and every time, but even one day with you was worth a thousand lifetimes of agony.
“i love you,” you mumbled sleepily as you tangled your limbs with vessels, entwined physically just as you were in souls.
“i love you, little dove,” he replied, kissing the top of your head gently. “more than even the gods will ever know.”
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