#I had my raincoat on but all the water ran down from my coat directly onto my pants.

[rrxindrops]

What’s the weather in your location?

#It’s been raining a lot these two days and I’m definitely enjoying this. #Yesterday was amazing! It was raining heavily as I walked to the train station for home. #I had my raincoat on but all the water ran down from my coat directly onto my pants. #My legs got soaking wet as I could literally squeeze out the water from my pants. #I went to the train station bought myself a hot coffee and watched the rain under the ceiling while waiting for the train. #Being outside with coffee heavy rain and a raincoat was comforting. #And I've been waiting to use my raincoat for a while now lol. #There was also some lightning and omg the sound afterward was so loud and long subhanAllah. #A part of me was scared and part of me was excited and smiling lool #I just want it to keep raining until my exam #pls keep me in your duaas <3 #rrxr

[chalcid]

8: Reemai of the Brambles (Disappear)

I glanced at the rain outside the window, and then at the TV.

"Meteorologists are saying that we are entering the rainy season early this year," The person on TV said "But not everyone is feeling gloomy about this turn of events. A nine-year-old Water Elementalist from the center of the island just figured out how to make your own water umbrella-"

I turned off the TV.  "Come on, why won't you let me outside?"

"It's raining, Merika," Mom sighed.

"Yes," I said, gesturing at the window "It's raining. Why am I not outside? Outside is where all the puddles are. I should be splashing in them! I should be finding cool rocks and things washed up on the beach."

"I don't want to get out the shoe dryer..."

"The weather people say that the rainy season is starting, Mom. And I'm out of indoor things to do and this house is suffocating me," I sighed.

"I don't want you walking around in the rain for no reason, Merika."

"I just gave you, like, five."

"Merika..."

"Fine," I snapped "You want reason? You want me to wander with purpose? I'll give it to you."

I whirled my coat dramatically and stormed up to my room.

It was the best room in the house if I did say so myself. Technically, it was the attic, but it had all of my stuff, therefore it was a room. The back wall was actually a large triangular window, covered with an old table cloth because Uncle Decimus couldn't figure out how to set up curtains or blinds for it.

I flung myself on my bed dramatically and whipped out my phone. What sorts of trouble could I get up to today, and who could join me.

I called Trite first, but he didn't pick up his phone. Next, I tried Poseikion

"Hey, what are you guys up to," I asked "Anyone down for an adventure?"

"Trite's baked almost half the recipes in his new cookbook today alone," Poseikion reported. "And Pacifinos hasn't left their room at all today. So I'm just going to assume that their answer would be no."

"And you?"

"I'd love to, but I'm ultra grounded until I turn in those four math assignments I missed, so I can't," he paused. "Actually, I'm not even supposed to be talking to you, so I gotta run."

"Understandable, good luck," I said just before he hung up.

It was a long shot, but maybe Edonia would like to hang out.

She cleared her throat. "Hello, Merika."

"Heyyy," I said, "Wanna go on an adventure?"

"Uh..." she paused. "Anything specific in mind?"

"We could grab snacks," I suggested, "Or check out the library if you want."

"Those are remarkably un-Merika activities."

"To be completely honest," I told her "I just want to be outside, but my mom won't let me without a specific task in mind. We could also hunt for lost treasure or go looking for pretty shells or break into a building if you want to, but I figured those weren't really your thing."

"Thanks, how thoughtful of you," Edonia said "But-"

One of her sisters yelled "Oh, come on, Eddy, you're always cooped up in that tower bedroom of yours. How about you do something that's not practicing ancient evil magics or getting into heated debates about dead people."

A chorus of people yelled in response "The violin isn't evil, you're just jealous you don't have the magic."

"Okay, fine. Meet me at Bramble Woods, there are supposed to be some really old ruins over there."

"Like, human-age old?"

"No,  just from the first failed colonization attempt."

"Oh. Cool, cool, meet you there."

I hung up and raced downstairs.

"Okay, Mom," I shouted as I pulled my raincoat over my other coat "I've found a purpose to wander for, now. I'd say I'll be back before dinner time, but we both know I'm not even going to try. Bye Mom, love ya!"

Kev ran up to me "Where are you going?"

"Bramble Woods," I informed her.

"But that's really far," she protested.

"Yeah," Lawrence said, popping his head out from behind the couch back. "Like eighty million miles away."

"Not that far," I said.

"Four and a half miles," Kev said "I think?"

"Sounds about right to me."

"You're just going to walk that far all alone?"

"Yeah?"

"I'm coming with you," she said stubbornly.

"Kev, you don't even have a raincoat."

She responded by opening the closet and putting on one of dad's raincoats, and despite the fact she was practically swimming in the coat, she still pulled off the look far better than he did.

"Are you really sure," I said "I'll be fine, but you're more of an indoor person."

"A good sister wouldn't let her sister go that far alone," Kev said stubbornly.

Damn, these kids were really committed to the whole sibling idea. I couldn't help but feel bad.

"Are you sure," I repeated "Because I'm going to meet up with a friend and then we're going to walk in the woods. And then we'll have to walk home. That's a lot of walking."

"I'm sure," Kev said.

"Fine, but if you tire yourself out, I cannot give you a piggyback ride," I said.

I was sure to go slower than normal for Kev's sake. It took us forever to get there, but we made it eventually, soaked.

"Hey, Merika," Edonia said. She was holding a black umbrella. "Who's this?"

"This is Kev," I said. "She's..." I trailed off. I couldn't say 'stepsister'. I wasn't emotionally ready for that. "She's Kev," I concluded stupidly "She insisted on coming with me, so don't, y'know, freak out that I dragged a child through the rain for four miles."

"That far," Edonia commented, surprised.

"Four and a half," Kev mumbled.

"Wow. I thought one of your many parents would drive you here."

"Could everyone stop with the parent jokes?" I sighed.

"May I stand underneath your umbrella, please, miss" Kev asked Edonia.

"Sure thing, muffin," Edonia said, making room for Kev. Absently, she helped roll up Kev's sleeves. "Why didn't you bring one?"

"Umbrellas are for the weak," I declared.

Edonia rolled her eyes at me.

"Right" I cleared my throat "Let's see some cool ruins, eh?

The first half an hour or so went by fairly uneventfully. The woods, as woods do, got darker and weirder the further we went in. Kev and Edonia talked about the books they were reading, and Edonia had several recommendations for her.

A two-headed deer runs past us. Edonia put her hand over Kev's mouth to stop her from screaming.

I, on the other hand,  possessed no fear or common sense. I raised my cellphone and took a picture.

Edonia's sharp intake of breath told me that was very bad.

The deer sniffed the air and screamed with both mouths, pursuing other prey or maybe declaring war. Who knows.

We all breathed a collective sigh of relief.

"Merika, they eat people," Edonia hissed "And they're very sensitive to light. You better thank your lucky charms that that phone wasn't on flash because otherwise, we'd all be dead. That's why the first colony packed up and left, by the way. Because seventeen people were eaten."

"Did those things used to be all over the island," Kev asked fearfully.

"Not all over the island. They had much more territory to themselves, but they mostly just lived here. I never thought I'd actually get to see a Calandra Deer myself," Edonia said.

"Any other weird creatures we might run into?" I asked.

Edonia scrunched her eyebrows together "I'm a little too panicked to remember."

We glanced at Kev.

"Do you want us to head home?" I asked her

"I'm fine," she said, but there was a slight quiver in the voice.

"I mean, we don't know where the ruins are, and it's really creepy here," I said"No judgment if you want to go home?"

"I do, but I want to finish this," Kev said.

"Understandable, let me know the second you change your mind," I said.

We plodded along the old trail, not daring to speak.  A person-shaped shadow darted along beside us, just off the trails. Two crows flew off.

I was beginning to doubt everything I've been ever taught about the way the world works. This place was haunted, more haunted than most places with actual ghosts. I've been in shipwrecks, and there are plenty of skeletons and the meanest, saltiest ghosts you can imagine, but none of those put the fear of the universe into me like here.

Nobody believes or speaks of the Wild Magic anymore. I think I picked up a library book about it once but I couldn't actually finish it. At the time, it was because the author who had written it believed in it so deeply that I couldn't stop laughing, but now I believed.

Some things just don't fit into the way the world works.

"So," Kev said "What's in these ruins?"

"Well, it's the remnants of the first attempt to colonize on Ilcodeux," Edonia said animatedly "Or, Wildeeria, as people called it back then. People don't like talking about that one. A hundred and fifty years before Ilcodeux was even a notion, a group of settlers, led by Erina Wild, founded Wilderia and built the town near a lake in the middle of the forest-"

"-so we're looking for a lake?"

"Yes! Anyways, the colony was built here due to the large quantities of an unusual wood, instrument-grade stuff. This place used to be worth a fortune-"

Then I tripped on an especially large root and I fell right off the trails. My face was buried in red grass that smelled like bacon. I peeled myself off the ground and glanced directly into the face of the most terrifying shadowy monster person I have ever seen.

Credit to me, I didn't scream, but I did stare at the person in a way of shock and horror that no doubt made them sad.

They were actually made of shadow, except for three glittering scarlet eyes, two on the right, one on the left.

"Wait," they said, "I know you from somewhere."

They dragged a shadowy claw underneath my chin. "You're that girl Thordis has a soft spot for, right?"

"I don't remember you," I squeaked bravely.

"Ah, yes, you wouldn't. Not when I was like this."

They snapped and with a swirl of magic, they looked like a normal person. Their hair, I noted, was the same color as their eyes were in their other form.

I tried to drag the name from the depths of my memory "Reemun? No, wait, Reemal?"

They sighed "Reemai."

"Oh, sorry," I said nervously "You're in her band, though? How can you play guitar when you're..." I trailed off "Not an Instrumentalist."

"Wild Magic, darling," Reemai wiggled their fingers "It can disguise itself as other things very easily."

"Oh," I said "That's nice."

"But nevermind that," Reemai said "What are you doing in these woods?"

"Searching for ruins," I said. "With my friend and... ah screw it, it doesn't matter. Please just put me back now."

"Okay, if that's what you want," Reemai said, "Or I could take you to the ruins."

"Can't you just direct me to them," I asked? "I really need to get back to my geeks, and we already encountered a Calandra Deer so I'm a little on edge."

"Of course, of course," Reemai said soothingly "On one condition-"

"-my soul is not up for grabs-"

"-You buy me a coffee. And I get to choose when and where."

"Deal," I said reluctantly.

"Very well. Follow the swords to get to the ruins."

"What," I asked, but Reemai snapped their fingers and suddenly, the world was a swirl of black and red.

"Follow the swords," a chorus of things in the dark whispered, "Follow the swords."

#writing #wip disappear

[jaeminhours]

Midnight Moon

SUMMARY | You’ve grown up on your grandfather’s tales of the sea and dreamed of your own adventures, even in your old town in the middle of nowhere. In which stories and dreams become a reality, and suddenly everything has changed.

PAIRING | lee jeno x reader

CATEGORY | siren!jeno, fluff, angst

WORD COUNT | 9.0k

WARNINGS | minor violence

SONG REC | Surrender - Natalie Taylor

The waves crashed violently against the jagged rocks, filling the air with the taste of salt. It was foggy, the horizon indecipherable through the heavy mist. There was nothing special about that day, really. It was like any other morning on the coast of your hometown, hazy, cold, wet. It was never different, always the same gray sky, the same angry clouds, the same ocean smell of fish and sea salt. 

Maybe it was beautiful, but to you, it was just boring. Nothing ever changed, and the only source of entertainment in the remote town was your grandfather’s old stories. He was the village’s most renowned storyteller, famous for his tall tales and vivid imagination.

Your mother said you were too old for his stories, now, at the age of seventeen, but you never listened to her, because you adored him, and you adored his stories, because he always managed to make them seem so real, as if he wasn’t living in the most boring town I the entire world, as if he wasn’t just a retired fisherman that occasionally went out on a sail when his son wasn’t looking. His stories submerged you in a different world, of magic and love and beauty. Nothing about his stories were gray, and because of that, you felt like he was the only person in this town who was truly living.

So yes, it was foggy and gray and threatening clouds hung over the bland sky, but the sight of your grandfather sitting at the edge of the empty pier, his pants rolled up to his calves and his bare feet submerged in the freezing water, never failed to excite you.

You jogged down the dock, and your grandfather turned at the sound of your footsteps against the old, splintered wood, a bright, wide smile encapsulating his weathered face. You sat down next to him, dipping your own feet into the sea and shivering at the freezing cold. You draped the coat you had brought from your hose over his shoulders, chuckling.

“Grandpa, you forgot your coat again. You’re too old for this, you know. You’re going to ache in the morning,” you scolded, but your eyes were playful. If there was one thing you and your grandfather had in common, it was your disregard for the rules.

“Sunshine, you’re never too old for anything,” he joked, patting your hands, and passing you a hand warmer. “What do you want to hear today?”

“Anything, Grandpa.”

“Then listen.”

He stopped talking, facing forward, and used his hand to turn your jaw to the side, so you were looking out towards the sea.

“What do you hear?”

You frowned, glancing towards him. “I hear the waves.”

He shook his head. “No, really listen. What do you hear? What’s it saying?

“What’s what saying, Grandpa?”

“The sea, Y/N. The waves. Everything’s saying something, if you just listen.”

You strained your ears, doubtful. All could hear were the waves crashing against the shore, and the faint call of seagulls overhead. “I can’t hear anything special, Grandpa, honest.” you confessed, and he smiled, shaking his head.

“You will, just give it time. You’re my granddaughter, so you have my ears,” he joked.

“What do you hear?” you asked, curious.

He hummed, closing his eyes. “Music, A song. Lots of things, all molding together to make one, glorious melody.” Suddenly, he paused. “Have I ever told you about the sirens?”

“A few times, Grandpa. Not much, though.”

“I should fix that then,” he murmured, and you leaned closer, eager to hear his story.

“You see, mermaids aren’t real, Y/N. At least, not the kind people usually tell stories about. They aren’t docile, or serene, or merely pretty. They’re dangerous, and deadly, and more beautiful than any human could ever hope to be. They look harmless, at first glance, but a closer look will reveal the slightly sharpened edges of their teeth, the lies behind their dark eyes, and the deadly melody of their seemingly sweet voices.”

“Sirens aren’t mermaids, Y/N. They’re predators. They’re dangerous, and beautiful,” He sighed, a faraway look in his aged, eyes. “That’s what makes them fascinating, unfortunately. That’s what makes them so intriguing, because you’ll find yourself falling before you’ve even reached the edge of the cliff.”

He put a hand on your knee and pointed out to the sea. “I hope you get to see all the secrets the ocean holds, Y/N. This town isn’t as boring or ugly as you think, you know.”

He exhaled, and pushed himself to his feet, stretching his aching bones. “There’ll be a storm tonight, Y/N. I’d recommend keeping an eye on the shore from your bedroom meanwhile. You never know what might get caught between these rocks.”

You laughed, and pushing yourself to your feet as well, locking your arm with his as you walked him down the dock.

“Okay, Grandpa. I will.”

You both got an earful from your father when you got home, berating his father for going out to the edge of the sea, fearful that he’d fall in and drown, without his family ever knowing. You grandfather simply rolled his eyes. “Your father never understood,” he whispered. “That’s alright, though. Not everyone is inclined to listen.”

And then he left, retreating into his room, leaving you to deal with your mother’s scalding looks.  You sighed, and dropped into your r bed, opening your journal to a new page, and dragging your pencil against the blank paper. You began to sketch the ocean, as you usually did, adding various creatures from your grandfather’s stories into the waves, but just as you began the outline of the siren, you paused. It was different, because you knew it needed a face.

And yet, sirens didn’t exist.  You erased the figure, and instead sketched the outline of the creature’s shoulders, facing away from your perspective, towards the sea, his torso bare, and short, dark hair, brushing against the back of his neck, and glittering scales lining his back, directly against his spine.

Sleep tugged at your eyes, however, and you soon dropped the journal to the floor beside your bed, letting your head fall to the pillow. You could see the ocean in the distance, from your bedroom window, and you fell asleep to the faint sound of the rushing waves, and the sight of the spray of water into the hazy air with each crash against the shore.

You awoke to rushed, worried voices, and the sound of your door being flung open, your mother shaking at your shoulders.

“Have you seen Grandpa?” she demanded, her voice worried, and her brow drawn into a concerned and frightened frown.

You sat up, rubbing the sleep from your eyes. “No, what’s wrong? Is he okay?”

She put her head in her hands and rubbed her temple worriedly, shaking her head. “We can’t find him. The whole town’s looking, but he’s just… disappeared.”

Your eyes widened, and you slid out of your bed, slipping your shoes on. “How can I help?”

She shook her head. “Just stay here. We don’t need you wandering around, too. Your father and I are going to take a party through the woods, so we need you to stay here in case he comes back.”

You glared, indignation rising to your chest. “I want to help!”

She glared back. “You will stay here, young lady. You’ll be in very big trouble if we come back and you’re not here. We’ll be back in a couple hours. Stay. Here.”

With that, she tugged on her raincoat and hurried out the door, slamming it behind her. You rushed to the window and waited until she was out of view before tugging on your shoes and your own jacket, grabbing a flashlight from the shelf. You ran outside, bracing against the wind whipping your hair into your face, and the rain stinging your face as it poured down. You pulled your hood over your head, and ran.

You knew where he was, and you were terrified.

You ran to the pier you’d visited with him earlier, and sure enough, the small boat he often sneaked out on was gone. You panicked, your heart racing in your chest and thrashing against your ribs. Your grandfather was too old to be sailing in this weather, and if he fell, he’d drown.

That’s why you didn’t hesitate to climb into the nearest boat, a small wooden thing with a rusted motor attached to the back, and pulled the cord. It took several tries for the engine to start, but eventually it roared to life, and the small boat began its journey into the sea.

The waves rocked your violently, and you gripped the splintering edge desperately. Amidst the fear, a tinge of regret formed in the pit of your stomach, but the worry for your grandfather washed it away. You flashed your flashlight across the ocean as you moved further from the shore, searching for a sign, anything that meant your grandfather was okay.

You’d lost sight of the shore nearly half an hour ago when the motor suddenly spluttered and the boat halted. You panicked, whipping around as you pulled desperately at the cord. It didn’t start, and you could feel the beginnings of tears welling behind your eyes. You drew in quick, gasping breaths and you fell back against the wooden planks, a violent wave spilling water over the edge. The waves crashed against the sides of the boat, and the last thing before you were thrown overboard was a glint of light in the depths of the angry ocean.

The coldness of the water was shocking, and you instinctively took a breath, inhaling water as you kicked desperately to the top, coughing as you tried to find your bearings. Another wave crashed over your head, and you were swept back, disoriented, until you felt a hard thwack against your head.

The pain was sharp, but it began to fade away as your consciousness slipped away from you, blackness floating at the edges of your vision.

You were so tired. You couldn’t find the energy to keep your limbs moving, to keep kicking, to breathe. Everything was so cold, and everything was dark.

The last thing you registered before everything turned to black was dark, hungry eyes, a flash of scales, and an outstretched arm, and then, it was gone.

You came to on the rocky edge of a tidepool, the jagged edges of the stone digging into your cheek. Your body was half submerged in the water, The water lapping against the back of your head. Your temple was throbbing, and your throat was sore and scratchy. You sat up, too quickly, making your head spin, and a wave of nausea rushed through your body. You scrambled out of the water and threw up over the rocks, retching until your stomach was empty and you were dry-heaving over the dark, wet rocks. You fell back to the ground, landing in the water, lapping against your shins as you took a deep breath, squeezing your eyes tightly shut.

“Are you okay?”

Your eyes flew open, and you scrambled backwards, your spine hitting the rocks behind you painfully.

A boy was in the water. He was submerged up to his collarbones, and he was beautiful,

You were speechless as you took in the boy’s dark, midnight hair, as black as his deep eyes. His cheeks were shimmery, tints of silvers shimmering against his cheekbones, as well as faintly along the sides of his temples. When you looked even closer, you realized that the skin where the faint colors were present was a slightly different texture. You could almost, just almost, say that it looked like scales.

And beneath the water, waving gracefully back and forth, was a tail. You shook your head, willing the sight away, willing yourself to wake up, but when you opened your eyes, the sight was still there.

“What…” you croaked weakly, your voice scratchy as you stared at the appendage. “What’s happening?”

The boy, or whatever he was, cocked his head to the side, eyeing you curiously. “You fell from your boat,” he answered simply. “I saved you.”

He smiled then, and the sight of the slightly sharpened edges of his canines sent you reeling. You pressed the palm of your hand to your head, the events of last night flooding back to you. Your grandfather, the storm, falling, and the ghostly face hovering above yours amidst the darkness.

“What… what are you?” you choked out.

The boy swam closer, and you scrambled up to perch on the rock behind you. He ignored your frightened nature and lifted himself out of the water enough to fold his elbows onto the edge of the rock, looking up at you. You noticed the scale-like, shimmery texture was present along his collarbones as well, and his torso was completely bare. You swallowed as your gaze ran down to his hips, following the line of his tail. It was a glimmering, stormy silver, beautiful and shining and dangerous. Just as your grandfather had described it.

“I’m a siren,” he answered, and he bared his teeth. His voice was deep, and melodious, and you felt yourself swoon against your will.

“Is this a dream?” you asked, feeling dizzy.

He chuckled. “Sorry, no.”

Okay, so, unless you were dreaming, which you probably weren’t, evident from the red marks lining your forearm from when you’d pinched yourself, your grandfather’s stories were real. At least, this one was.

You leaned back, slumping against the rock. “Okay.”

He blinked. “Okay?”

“Okay. It’s fine, I guess. What’s your name?”

He smiled, and you noticed how his eyes formed crescents as his face brightened. “Jeno.”

“I’m Y/N,” you said, and stuck your hand out to him, at which he flinched away. He looked up at you, frowning, and evidently confused.

“You shake it,” you supplied. “Just put your hand in mind. It’s a way of saying, like, ‘nice to meet you’, and stuff.”

He tentatively placed his hand into your own, gentle, and warm despite the coldness of the water.

“Nice to meet you, Y/N.”

Suddenly, voices shook you from your daze, the desperate call of your name making you pull your hand from Jeno’s grip.

“You have to go,” you told him, leaning forward urgently.

He frowned. “Will you come back?”

“Will you?”

He smiled. “Meet me here, when the sun touches the sea.”

You nodded, brushing the dirt from your soaked clothes, and climbing over the rocks in the direction of the voices. When you turned, back, Jeno had already disappeared. You shook your head, not believing what you had just seen, what you had just experienced, and clambered over the rocks, calling out for your parents. As you reached the safety of the sandy floor, you were trapped in the embrace of your mother’s arms, as she sobbed into your shoulder. When she composed herself, she stepped back and slapped your arm.

“You’re in so much trouble!” she hissed. “You could’ve been hurt! You could’ve died! I thought I’d never see you again. Your grandpa’s fine, by the way, he came back an hour after we realized you were gone. He didn’t seem worried at all, that old bastard.”

You grabbed her hand, rubbing her hand soothingly. “I’m fine, I’m sorry I worried you. I just… got caught up with something But I’m okay, I promise.”

She sighed, rubbing her eyes tiredly. “You’re grounded. Forever.”

You grimaced, but allowed her to take you arm and lead you back home.

Your father was furious when you returned, running his hand angrily through his hair, but you could tell he was just worried for you.

Your mother was right about your grandfather---he barely seemed to care that you’d been missing all night. You sat next to him on your porch, breathing in the salted air as he smoked on his cigar.

“Everybody was pretty worried about you last night, Grandpa.”

He hummed, and you noticed a bright glint in his eyes, and his lips tugging upwards at the corners.

“Grandpa, your stories. How do you come up with them?”

He chuckled, blowing a puff of smoke out of his mouth. “I think you found that out for yourself, sunshine.”

You gulped. “So… it’s true. All of it? It’s all real?”

He shrugged, tapping a rhythm on his kneecap with his fingers. “That’s for you to decide, what’s real and not real. What do you believe in? What have you seen? That’s real.”

You sighed, frustrated. You’d never been able to get a straight answer out of your grandfather.

He grinned, his eyes flashing mischievously. “I bet you had an adventure there, didn’t you?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I sure did.”

You still weren’t prepared to see Jeno when you returned to the shore you’d awoken on that evening, your eyes widening in disbelief and shock at the sight of the boy in the water. He was facing away from you, and as you got closer you could see the slight shimmer of silvery scales travelling up his sides to meet the junction of his arms.

He was breathtaking.

The sound of your footsteps alerted him to your presence, and he swiveled around, smiling at the sight of your figure.

“You came,” he said, and you nodded, climbing down the rocks and dangling your feet off the sides, your toes brushing the water.

It was silent, for a moment, neither of you knowing quite what to say.

“So,” you began. “Mermaids are real, then?”

Jeno looked offended, scowling. “I’ve already told you, I’m a siren. Mermaids aren’t real. At least, not the type your kind always tells stories of.”

“Do you eat people? Like in the stories? Drag sailors down to their watery graves?”

Jeno scoffed. “Some of us do, but most of us just eat fish and other animals we find near home.”

“So, like sushi.”

He frowned. “What?”

You shook your head. “Never mind. You said that you’re told stories when you’re young? You know about humans?”

Jeno snorted, and you flushed. It seemed like sort of a stupid question, now that it had come out. “It’d be impossible not to,” he said. “Especially with all the stories we’re told when we’re young.”

Your eyes widened. “There’s more of you?”

“Of course,” he said, proudly, but then suddenly he looked away, flushing. “I probably shouldn’t have told you that. We’re… not supposed to let ourselves be seen by humans.”

You nodded. “I won’t tell anyone. I promise.”

He looked back at you, smiling. “Thanks.”

You talked with Jeno, for the rest of the evening, the conversation eventually becoming more and more comfortable, until the both of you fell into a sort of familiar rhythm, as if you’d known each other your whole lives. Jeno was kind, and sweet, and suddenly the sharpened edges of his canines meant for killing and ripping flesh no longer bothered you just as much. Yes, he was dangerous, but he was also beautiful, with the streaks of silver across his cheeks and collarbones, and salt-soaked skin, as if he’d been brushed by starlight. You talked until the sun disappeared and the moon rose about the still water, reflecting off the dark, empty surface. The violence of the storm the night before had left an eerie calmness in the town, the only movement on the shore being the flash of silver as Jeno moved through the water, splashing water at your face as you laughed.

Eventually, as all things do, it had to end, and you bid your new friend farewell as you turned to climb back over the rocks. Before you left, however, you turned to look back at Jeno. He was still there, watching you leave with a curious look on his face, smiling softly.

“Hey,” you said softly, returning his gentle smile. “let’s meet again. Tomorrow.”

Jeno nodded.

“And Jeno,” you said. “Thanks. For helping me, I mean.”

He smiled. “Of course.”

You left, and that night you dreamt of storms, the moon hanging bright above you amidst the blackness of the night sky, and the boy with stars in his skin.

You met with Jeno frequently after that, in the coming weeks, taking to riding your bicycle to the corner of the shore, shielded from view by the flurry of rocks and the pier. You didn’t have to worry about being seen there; the only way to get there was to scramble over the rocks at the very edge of the water, and more often than not, you found yourself tumbling dangerously into the cave. It wasn’t big, but it was concealed, and as your meetings with Jeno progressed, you quickly realized that you couldn’t risk Jeno being seen.

Your absences in the evenings and early mornings demanded the attention of your friends, and Jaemin, your childhood friend of over a decade had accused you of having a secret boyfriend. Blushing, you’d realized he wasn’t that far off from the truth. Jeno was a friend, and he was a secret.

But nothing mattered underneath the silver light of the moon, the light of the night sky glistening on Jeno’s cheekbones and reflecting off his midnight eyes. You couldn’t find the will to care that he was dangerous, that he could end your life with a simple flick of his tail, and flash of his teeth, and then you’d be at the bottom of the see. How could you care, when he looked like that? When he sounded like that?

It was four in the morning, and the sun was just beginning to rise over the line of the sea. You sat on the sand of your meeting place with Jeno, half submerged in the water, with his head in your lap. This position was the most comfortable for the both of you, without Jeno having to continuously hold himself up with his arms just to be able to speak with you.

“What’s it like, in the ocean? Living there?” you asked, absentmindedly running your fingers through the wet strands of his hair.

Jeno sighed contentedly, keening under the light touch of your hand. Something you’d learned about the boy was that he loved to touch and to be touched, seeking comfort from the warmth of your skin as your fingers traced the silver on his cheeks.

“It’s dark,” he confessed. “But it’s colorful at the same time. It’s not like your world, where you can see everything in the distance, from far away. Everything’s too close down there; you don’t see it coming until it’s too late. It’s cold, but it’s still beautiful, in a way.”

You nodded. “It’s cold here, too.”

Jeno sighed again, leaning back into your touch. “You’re not cold,” he breathed. “You were always warm, even in the storm.”

You flushed, swatting his forehead as he laughed at your reaction.

“You should meet my friends sometime,” he mused. “I bet you’d like Chenle. Maybe Renjun, too, even though he’s kind of hard to get along with.”

“That sounds nice.”

With that, Jeno tugged on your hand, pulling you roughly into the deeper part of the water. You spluttered, spitting the salt out of your mouth as you glared at him.

“What was that for!?” you hissed.

Jeno laughed. “You humans never want to get wet.”

“You could’ve warned me!” you retorted.

“Can’t you swim? You’re fine.”

You glared at him, splashing water at his face, and stuck your tongue out, grimacing. “It tastes bad.”

Jeno was staring at you, his eyes thoughtful. “I want to know what your world is like. Will you show me sometime?”

“You have a tail, Jeno.”

Jeno’s eyes shifted downwards, and small smile tugging at his lips. “I want to show you something.”

He swam to the edge of the shore, the flash of silver underneath the dark blue of the water never failing to catch your eye. You followed him, stepping out of the water as he hauled himself onto the sand, and within seconds his tail disappeared.

You stood in awe at the sight, Jeno’s silver tail being replaced by a pair of human legs, and you quickly averted your eyes when you realized he was naked.

“Oh my god, Jeno,” you said, shocked, and you turned away, your hand over your eyes as you felt your cheeks burn.

“Cool, right? I’ve never gotten to use that trick before, really.”

You waved him off, grabbing the blanket you’d brought with you and throwing it over him before turning to look at him once again.

“Holy shit, Jeno. You have legs!” you said, and he laughed.

“Yeah, I know. I can’t really stand though; can you help me up?”

You shook your head. “Jeno… you’re naked.”

He looked down, as if he’d forgotten. “Oh. Yeah.”

You backed away, nearly tripping over your own feet as made your way out of the cove, still facing Jeno. “Stay here, I’ll be back in a couple of minutes.”

He nodded, confused, and you ran off, climbing onto your bike and taking off into town. You rode all the way to Jaemin’s house, which was fortunately only a couple minutes away from yours, meaning that it wasn’t too far from the shore. He opened the door almost as soon as you knocked, his smile disappearing as you pushed past him into his room.

You filtered through his drawers, grabbing a pair of boxers, sweatpants, and a plain t-shirt before rushing back to the door.

“I’ll explain later,” you promised, as you exited his home, Jaemin’s face the epitome of bewilderment.

When you got back, Jeno was fiddling with the threads of the blanket, and you tossed the clothes to him.

“Put these on,” you said. “If you need help, don’t ask me. Just figure it out, please.”

You really didn’t want to have to help Jeno put on his pants. You didn’t think you were capable of surviving that experience with your heart intact.

“Okay, I’m good.”

You turned around to see Jeno leaning against the rock wall, tugging the shirt down over his abdomen. He pushed himself off, wobbling slightly as he attempted to stand on his own two feet. You hurried to his side, grabbing his arm and helping support his weight.

“Thanks,” he chuckled, and then frowned. “This is so weird.”

You laughed. “Yeah, I know. You look good, though.”

He raised his eyebrows, smirking. “You think so?”

You flushed, feeling your ears burn. “As good as any other human, I mean.”

He grinned. “Alright.”

You took the opportunity to examine his face a little closer, noticing that the silver details that usually shimmered along his cheekbones had disappeared, and his canines were no longer slightly pointed at the ends. He looked as human as anybody else, you thought, but at the same time he was the most beautiful thing you’d ever seen. The same black hair still flopped over his forehead, lightly brushing his brow. The same dark, midnight eyes still pierced through your soul, and the same strong hands still gripped your elbow.

Suddenly, a gasp shook you from your stupor, and you whipped around to see none other than Na Jaemin standing at edge of the cove, pointing an accusatory finger at you.

“Jaemin—”

“I was right!” he exclaimed. “Oh my god, oh my god. I was so right! You do have a secret boyfriend!” You glared at him. “He’s not my boyfriend. You followed me!”

“You lied to me!”

Jeno’s eyes were travelling frantically between the two of you, his eyes dark and concerned.

Jaemin jerked his head towards the boy, his face set in a scowl, but his eyes still held a glimmer of playfulness.  “Who’s this?”

You groaned, slamming the palm of your hand against your forehead, at which Jeno frowned, pulling your hand down, and smoothing his fingers over your temple worriedly.

“This is Jeno,” you said, your ears burning with heat. “He’s… a friend.”

“A friend, my ass. Those are my clothes! He’s wearing my underwear! Why is he wearing my underwear?”

Jeno’s eyes were flashing, his brows knitted together as he watched Jaemin’s expression morph from one of disbelief to anger.

“You’ve been lying to me for weeks, Y/N! Who is this guy? I’ve never seen him before in my life, and everybody knows everybody here, you know that.” Jaemin’s voice was low and angry, but you knew he didn’t mean any harm; you felt guilty for not being there for him in the past couple weeks, choosing to spend time at Jeno’s side amidst the cool, frigid water instead of by the fireplace in Jaemin’s living room.

Jeno didn’t know that, though, and he pushed himself in front of you protectively, glaring at Jaemin as he wobbled slightly on his new legs. “Back off,” he growled, and Jaemin’s eyes widened, flashing back to you in disbelief.

“Who the fuck is this guy, Y/N?” Jaemin asked, the directed is attention back to the black-haired boy standing in front of him. “What’s your problem?”

Jeno bared his teeth and shoved at Jaemin’s chest. Jaemin stumbled back into the water, falling back as Jeno marched into the sea. Panic flashed through you at the sight of faint silver streaks running up and down Jeno’s arms, just for a fraction of a second, and you sprang into action. You stumbled through the small waves until you reached Jeno, gripping his arm and pulling him down.

“Jeno, stop it,” you warned, your voice serious. “You can’t.”

Jeno closed his eyes as you ran a hand soothingly up and down his now soaked back, and he inhaled deeply as they fluttered open once again. He straightened up, looking down at Jaemin and extending a hand downwards, at which Jaemin stared incredulously.

“Sorry,” he breathed, and Jaemin nodded, his eyes still wary as he took Jeno’s hand. However, Jeno still wasn’t stable, and as he attempted to pull Jaemin back to his feet, he wobbled dangerously, and your eyes widened as Jeno came crashing down, knocking the breath out of Jaemin as he landed right on top of him.

“Oof,” Jaemin exhaled, his eyes a little too tight as he struggled underneath Jeno’s weight.

You tried desperately to control it, but you couldn’t stop the laugh from bubbling in your throat, clawing its way out as you doubled over, clutching at your stomach.

Jaemin glared at you, but the beginnings of a smile tugged at his lips, before both his and Jeno’s bodies were shaking with laughter.

You told Jaemin everything that night, and soon it was no longer just you sneaking out at night to see the starstruck boy in the ocean. You told him how he’d saved you that night you’d gone missing, how you were no longer hearing myths from your elderly grandfather, but realities, truth and fact. Jaemin, who had always been enraptured by your grandfather’s stories and his tales of the creatures who haunted the tides, quickly grew attached to Jeno, bombarding him with questions about sirens and other sea creatures.

It was still just you and Jeno, in the end. Most nights it was just the two of you underneath the midnight moon, the light illuminating the stars in Jeno’s eyes and the silver dusting his cheeks. Sometimes you didn’t even speak, just floated in the water side by side, soaking in the other’s presence.

Your grandfather was suspicious, you knew. He’d caught you sneaking out one night, a glimmer in his twinkling, wrinkled eyes that told you he knew you were going out for something more than just a midnight snack, and a soft-spoken warning, telling you to be careful of what may be waiting in the dark.

Sometimes, in the dead of night, the wind rushing through your hair, cool against your skin as you biked down the street, you felt a lingering presence on the back of your neck, a sharp tingling, as if someone was watching you. But when you would inevitably turn around, putting the brake down as you twisted in your seat, you’d see nothing but the darkness of the shadows between the old, weary buildings of your salt-soaked town.

For a while, everything was perfect. For a while, everything was fine.

It was evening, when everything came crashing down, when it both began and ended all at the same time. The sun was just about disappear behind the sea’s edge, the sky a dark array of purples and blues.

When you got to the cove, Jeno was already there. Except he wasn’t moving, facing away from you and spread out across the sand. You gasped at the sight of purples bruises blossoming across his abdomen and face, and when your gaze dropped to the long, deep, bloody gash on his side, you could feel your heart miss a beat. You cried out, dropping to his side as you hovered over him, wanting to be as close as possible to him but not daring to touch him.

“Jeno, what happened?!” you cried, but Jeno only groaned, gripping his side.

Then, his tail disappeared, replaced with human legs, and his eyes cracked open, still screwed with pain. “Help,” he choked out, and then his body went limp.

You shook his shoulder, but he wouldn’t wake up. Panicking, you dialed Jaemin’s number, begging him o come down to the shore, telling him that Jaemin was hurt, and you needed help carrying him. Once Jaemin was on his way, you wrapped a towel around Jeno’s waist. Jaemin arrived within the next few minutes, a concerned expression plastered upon his face.

“Where are we going to take him?” he asked, squatting down as you dragged Jeno onto his back, grabbing his thighs and hoisting him up, the siren’s arms hanging limply over his shoulders.

“Grandpa.”

Jaemin’s eyes widened in shock, his mouth hanging open. “You’re going to tell him?” he hissed.

“I don’t have a choice,” you replied, brushing a strand of hair from Jeno’s forehead. “He’ll know what to do. He’s the only one who can help him.”

Jeno was bleeding more than you’d thought. You’d sent a short text to your grandfather, asking him to meet you at his old clinic, and you and Jaemin were desperately trying to get Jeno there without being scene. His blood was coating your hands, slicking your hold on his body, and left drops of dark red blood in your wake. You were panting from the strain of Jeno’s weight, but you couldn’t stop, shoving the clinic door open with your shoulder, and depositing him on the cold marble table.

Your grandfather was sitting in a chair in a corner, and at your arrival he stood up, shambling over to the table, his half-moon glasses perched at the end of his nose.

“Please help him,” you begged.

Your grandfather hummed, lifting Jeno’s lips to check his teeth, crooked fingers alighting on the corner of Jeno’s jaw as he turned his head to the side. He sighed, then turned back to you.

“Odd. Most don’t dare appear as human,” he said, and both yours and Jaemin’s jaws dropped.

“You… know?” Jaemin said tentatively.

“It’s obvious,” your grandfather replied simply. “I may be old, but I’m far from blind. I know a siren when I see one.”

Then he waved the two of you off, ushering you out the door so he could work. You waited in the seats outside the clinic room, waiting desperately for results. It seemed like hours before your grandfather finally emerged, wiping his bloodied hands from his apron.

“He has an infection, but I gave him some antibiotics,” he said, and you breathed a sigh of relief. “He’s sleeping right now. Y/N, you and I should stay here for the night, just in case someone decides tonight is a good night for wandering where they shouldn’t. But your mother should be expecting you, Jaemin.”

Jaemin flushed, and bid you both goodbye after you promised to relay any news to him in the morning. After he left, your grandfather sat down next to you with a heavy sigh, but with no words. It was silent for a few moments, before you finally mustered the courage to say something.

“Are you disappointed in me?” you asked meekly.

“Why would I be disappointed in you?”

“Because he’s a siren. He’s dangerous, like in all your stories.”

Your grandfather chuckled, his eyes holding that too familiar twinkle. “Yes, my stories. That’s what they are---stories. I’m a storyteller, sunshine, not a critic. It’s not my place to decide what’s too dangerous for you and what’s not. You’re almost an adult, and that’s for you to figure out, in your own time.”

He smiled. “Your father decided that life on the sea wasn’t for him. He wasn’t willing to give up the prospect of a family, the warmth of a fireplace welcoming him home every night. Not to say he hasn’t had adventures of his own. But it’s the kind that counts. This is your adventure, Y/N.  I’m here to offer you support if you decide you need it, not to interfere.”

Overcome with emotion, you flung your arms around your grandfather’s neck, burying your head in his shoulder. “Thank you, Grandpa.”

He chuckled, deep and rumbling in your ear, the whiskers on his chin tickling your cheek. “Of course, pumpkin. I’ll always be here for you, no matter what.”

You fell asleep in your grandfather’s embrace that night, lulled by his soft snores as the moonlight filtered through the shaded windows. It started raining halfway through the night, washing Jeno’s blood from the cobblestone paths, erasing all evidence that the siren had ever walked those streets.

Jeno was awake by morning, groaning as you helped him sit up, bringing a cup of cool water to his chapped lips.

“I feel like shit,” he moaned, and you chuckled.

“You kinda look like shit, Jen.”

He pouted, and you ruffled his hair, frowning softly. “You scared me, Jeno. What happened?”

You leaned back, closing his eyes as he took a deep breath. He was wearing Jaemin’s clothes again, old black sweatpants and a plain white t-shirt, which Jaemin had brought over earlier that morning. It was the first time you’d seen him totally dry, his hair fluffy and sticking up in odd places.

“I got caught in a net. A fisherman’s net,” he murmured. When I was trying to get out, I cut myself on something sharp. I’m okay, though, I promise.”

You smiled. ”I’m glad,” you said, taking his hand gently.

Jeno sat up again, leaning closer to you. “Show me around today,” he said, and at your reluctant expression he hurriedly continued. “Just for today. I… want to see what it’s like where you live. Where you spend all your time when you’re not with me.”

“Okay, yeah. Yeah, let’s do that.”

Jeno took your hand, and you led him out of the clinic. The sun was bright, but it was the same bright as always, cold and white and blinding in all the wrong ways.  The breeze left goosebumps on your exposed skin, but Jeno’s hand was warm against yours.

You took him to your mother’s boutique first, letting him run his fingers over the silken fabrics and textured laces, hovering over the glinting jewels under the glass case. And then you took him to the small rescue shelter on the corner of the street, watching him fondly as he stroked a kitten’s fur, gazing in wonder at its soft pelt and gentle mewls. He smiled too much, you thought, for a place so cold, and so gray. He was too beautiful, too perfect, for a place like this, like home. Just the sight of his crescent-moon eyes sparked a fire in the depth of your chest, weaving through the bone and muscle and tissue to wrap around your heart, and then blossoming outwards, filling you with a strange warmth down to the tips of your toes. It was something you’d never felt before, something you’d never thought you would feel, not while you still breathed the same wet air, saw the same gray sky, tasted the same salt-soaked atmosphere.

Jeno made you feel like you weren’t home. Or rather, not this home. It felt right, and at night, under the light of the pale moon, you felt as if you were in another world, another universe, and tomorrow wasn’t just another day. It was a special feeling, and it was one you didn’t want to let go.

Jeno was too good, with his kind words and gentle touch and soft, soft smile. But at the same time, it couldn’t be real; it couldn’t last forever. And within just a few months, that had become your greatest fear, because you desperately wanted it to be real, wanted it to be something that stayed, something to stay for.

You and Jeno stayed out in town until the sun disappeared the same way it had every night in the past few months, except that you were no longer watching alone, from the ocean shore, the spray of salt wetting your skin. You stayed until the sky dimmed and you were the only people still out, only the faint, golden light of the streetlamps overhead. Jeno was kicking a pebble as you walked, dodging back and forth like it was a soccer ball, and you laughed at the sight of it, of him being so normal, so human.

He glanced at you, pouting at your reaction, but his eyes were still smiling, still glimmering with hope and happiness.

“Let me check your bandages,” you said, since it’d been awhile since they’d been redressed, and you wanted to make sure his wound was clean. You lifted the hem of his t-shirt, and pulled gently at the wrapping, pulling the edge up slightly, but what you saw made you pull it off completely, your mouth dropping open.

“Jeno,” you said, awestruck, “oh my god, it’s almost healed.”

All that remained of the injury was a red jagged line, running from middle of his abdomen to his hipbone. You ran your fingers over it gingerly, and Jeno tensed under your slight touch.

He laughed, but it sounded restrained, resistant. “Yeah, sirens heal pretty fast. Faster than humans, at least.”

You ran your hand down his stomach one last time before his hand came to grip your wrist, causing you to look back up at him.

“Please stop doing that,” he whispered, and suddenly he was so close, too close. “It’s driving me crazy. You’re driving me crazy.”

Closer, closer, closer.

And then, he closed the gap. His lips met yours underneath the warm light of the streetlamp, and you might have thought that it was the only time you’d ever been warm in the small, rainy town on the coast of nowhere.

Jeno’s mouth was hot, and slow, and the feeling of his skin against yours set your entire soul into an inferno, a wildfire of emotion beating desperately at the iron bars of your chest, a cacophony of indiscernible shouts and whispers all at the same time. Even the moon looked like it was on fire that night, an angry, passionate red clouding the silver sheen, casting a new kind of magic in the atmosphere, by the weathered, dampened docks and the gritty sand and the icy seawater.

The kiss was sweet, just like Jeno, and it was over all too soon. Jeno left you with one last lingering kiss at the docks that night, pulling your face down to his and wetting your lips with the sharp taste of the sea. The erratic beating in your chest, the drumming that echoed all the way down to the balls of your feet, reverberating back up into your dizzy, dizzy head, didn’t calm at all that night. It didn’t calm in the morning or the afternoon or the evening, not until you were bathed in salt and moonlight, with a siren’s kiss lingering on your stolen lips.

“How long do you think this will last?” you asked one day, huddled with Jeno on the beach, your feet dangling off the rocky outcrop. Jeno had taken to using his human form with you around, so he could be closer to you. He’d even said he’d come to enjoy the feeling of the sand beneath his toes, the wind rushing through his hair and he chased you down the shore.

“What do you mean?” he answered, leaning his head against your shoulder.

“We’re different, Jeno. We live in different worlds, have different lives, different families. How long can we stay like this?” you said.

“Who says it can’t last forever?” Jeno murmured. “Not everything has to end. Why should this?”

You kissed him again that night, standing in the water as the moon shone bright over your heads, his hands gripping your waist and steadying you against the gentle lapping of the waves as his mouth moved over yours.

Everything was perfect. Everything was fine.

You introduced Jeno to your parents, telling them he lived a bit farther out from the town, and only came in to attend the small high school located at the edges of the town. Suddenly it was Jeno who became the storyteller, as your grandfather eagerly listened to his tales about life under the sea. But the best moments were when the two of you were alone, his hands cupping the side of your jaw as your mouths melded together, his strong arms wrapped around you as you huddled together against the strong winds.

Everything was perfect. Everything was fine.

It ended the same way it had begun: with a storm.

You and Jeno were huddled beneath the cove, sheltered from the harsh winds by the rocky outcrop. The rain hadn’t really come yet, and only the winds were present, warning of a future storm, but not quite there yet. A pile of blankets lay over you as Jeno hummed a melody into your ears, his voice soft and sweet, ethereal and captivating.

He kissed you.

Moving over you to back you against the wall, his hand against your waist as he smiled against the kiss, nipping at your bottom lip as you half-heartedly pushed him away, pretending to be annoyed. He grabbed your face, peppering kisses along your nose, your cheeks, your forehead, down to your neck, your shoulder, your collarbones. Each kiss was steaming hot, as if each one had branded you in a way you’d never quite be able to see, marking you as his, as Jeno’s. You giggled against his touch, pulling him down to meet your lips in one last kiss, Jeno’s hand wandering down to your hip.

That was when you heard it.

The snap of a twig caused you and Jeno to whip your heads up, and you were met with the sight of two men in dirtied fisherman’s clothing, wicked smiles plastered on their whiskered faces. Jeno scrambled off of you, pulling you to your feet as he stood protectively in front of you.

“Can we help you?” he asked the men.

One of the men stepped forward, and you gasped as you saw him pull out a net from behind his back.

“You sure can, fish.”

And then he lunged.

He grabbed Jeno forcefully, the other man behind him lunging towards you and restraining your hands behind your back. You cried out at the pain of his grip around your wrists, and Jeno thrashed at the sound as the man threw the net over him, trapping him. Then, he pulled a knife from his belt and dragged it across Jeno’s arm, bringing it to his lips and running his tongue down the edge of the blade, his expression souring as if he’d tasted something unnaturally foul.

“It’s him. He’s one of them,” the man confirmed.

“Leave him alone!” you cried. “What do you want?”

He waved the knife at you, Jeno’s blood dripping from the tip. “Your boyfriend here is worth a lot of money, little girl. Hate to let that go to waste.”

Jeno thrashed against the net, catching the man’s ankle roughly with one of his legs, causing the man to curse and grab Jeno by the neck in a loose chokehold. He held the knife up to his neck, seething.

“I don’t need you alive, fish,” he hissed. “You’re still worth a lot of money, dead or alive.”

Your eyes burned with angry tears at the sight of Jeno’s face through the netting, the knife held threateningly against the delicate skin of his neck, and you pulled against the man’s hold.

The man holding Jeno cursed as Jeno fought against him once again, desperately trying to release himself from the net as you ripped yourself from the other’s grip.

“Get her under control!” he shouted.

The man lunged for you, running you back towards the wall and slamming you against the wall. Stars burned in your vision, but you dropped to the ground and crawled out from underneath him. You were filled with rage, burning from your toes to your angry eyes and dampened face, and as a wave of fury washed over you, you pushed the man against the wall, grabbing him by his hair and crashing his head against the sharp rocks. He crumpled to the ground, his eyes closing as he lost consciousness.

You stumbled back, and turned to the other man who was still fighting against Jeno, not noticing that his partner was lying, unmoving, on the ground. You picked up a large rock from the ground, and before the man could turn around, you rushed behind him, colliding the rock against his skull, and like his partner, he crumbled to the ground, releasing Jeno, who was still tangled within the nets.

You fell to Jeno’s side, pulling the nets off of him as fast as you could, and when he was free you pulled his exhausted body into the water, as he stumbled after you, stripping the clothes from his body and transforming the second his sternum reached the water. Blood trickled from his neck and from a small cut above his brow, staining the silver details on his honeyed skin.

“You have to go, Jeno!” you said, and tears were streaming down your face.

Jeno had to leave before these men woke up, and you knew he couldn’t come back.

“You have to leave!”

Jeno’s eyes were wide as he backed away, shaking his head as he pulled on your hand, reluctant to let go.

“I can’t,” he whispered. “I don’t want to.”

“They’ll kill you, Jeno. They’ll come back for you.”

He knew you were right, and he knew he didn’t have time.

So he left.

You watched as he disappeared, as he dived into the depths of the oceans and didn’t return, your heart pulling you towards the ocean.

He didn’t say goodbye, he didn’t give you one last kiss, tasting of salt against your tongue. He just disappeared, and he didn’t come back.

You went home that night in quiet tears, and your grandfather didn’t say anything, just took you in his arms and held you as you gripped the fabric of his sweater in a clenched fist.

Jeno took everything that day; he took the sun, and the moon, and every single star littering the pitch black sky. He took all the colors and everything special about that small, rainy town on the coast of nowhere. It was over, he was gone, it was the end of your adventure, and your story was over.

After Jeno had left, you’d quickly realized that there was no longer anything to stay for. Your grandfather’s stories had lost their luster, and instead of inciting excitement and wonder, they tugged painfully at your aching heart, reminding you of everything you couldn’t have. So you left, like Jeno had when you were seventeen years old. You went somewhere sunny and warm and attended a full university where it was impossible to ever feel lonely, because there was never a time where there’d be an empty space by your side. Life was fast suddenly, and the sun warmed your skin and filled your heart, but there was still something missing.

You hadn’t gone back home since the day you’d left, too afraid of what you’d find and what you’d feel if you returned. The last time you’d been there, your last year had been haunted with the soon familiar faces of the men who’d attacked you and Jeno, suspicious and wicked and terrifying because they knew, and because you knew that they were waiting for you to slip up, for you to go back to the ocean and for you to find Jeno, and then they’d have their chance.

So you left. And you didn’t have enough time or enough space to regret it, you’d think. And until you came back three years later, you wouldn’t have to think twice about it.

It was winter break, and it was freezing.

Despite the cold, the sea was calm, soft waves gently lapping at the shore. You sat on the dock, dipping your bare feet into the frigid water, turning your toes numb. The faint breeze brushed over your skin, and you could feel your muscles relax, because you were home.

The call of seagulls filled your ears, the rush of water and a soft song, one of soft breaths and melodies and whispered confessions, an ending and a new beginning, another story to be told.

You could hear it now, and when you saw the faint flash of silver underneath the midnight moon, you smiled.

He looked the same. The same dark eyes and the same dark hair and the same silvery details, the same beauty and the same kindness in those gentle eyes and that sweet, sweet smile. Shy and timid, expectant and scared but so, so happy.

“Hey.”

“You came back.”

“I did.”

And underneath the stars that night, a story continued, a new chapter began. You’d always been one for adventures and risks and breaking the rules, and you weren’t about to give that up, and now you were ready. Ready for it to not end, ready for anything, for perfect and for scared, and for happiness and for despair—you were ready for all of it, everything.

You were ready for your happy ending.

 a/n: thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed this and feel free to share your thoughts and comments!

#jeno angst #jeno fluff #jeno scenarios #nct scenarios #jeno x reader #nct dream scenarios #jeno au #nct au #jeno #nct dream #nct dream fanfic #nct fanfic #jeno fanfic #nct dream au #nct imagines #jeno imagines #nct x reader #jeno fic #nct dream fic #nct fic #lee jeno #siren au #nct fics #nct angst #nct dream angst #nct dream fluff #nct fluff #jaeminhours

[actualyuuri]

Makkachin runs away and Yuuri just happens to be the person who finds him

The rain pounds.

Yuuri bows his head and pulls his hood farther up to try and protect himself, but it’s to no avail. The ink on the pages that he is holding streams down the paper and, realizing that he’d been too caught up in covering himself to cover his precious cargo, he shoves the pages inside his jacket and zips it up. They’re covered in images of a poodle with the words “FOUND POODLE” written in bold, black lettering, but as the water blurs the letters, they become less and less legible.

There goes all of the money he’d spent printing the posters.

He finds shelter underneath an awning outside of a cafe. He’s not far from home, but it feels like a failure to go home with a soaking wet jacket and posters and no progress having been made to find the lost poodle’s home.

The poodle, who lacks a collar but is obviously domesticated, had leaped on top of Yuuri two days ago, now. At first, he’d been elated, licking his face and wagging his tail. Yuuri had been instantly reminded of Vicchan, but as the hours ticked past and the dog continued to follow him around, no owner in sight, the worry had set in for both of them.

So now Yuuri stands.

Drenched.

There’s no point in waiting for the rain to stop—the clouds look petulant in the sky, dark and looming. When there’s a flash of lightning in the distance, Yuuri wonders, briefly, if the poodle is afraid of thunder. Vicchan definitely had been.

The thought practically stops his heart. Mari and his parents had gone out for the evening, something about chores for the onsen, so most likely there was nobody to take care of the dog. He could be alone, shivering, and…

Yuuri sprints.

(Directly into someone.)

His hand slips out of his jacket and the “FOUND POODLE” flyers scatter across the ground. Instantly, the rain begins to soak through them, and Yuuri scrambles, fingernails scraping across the sidewalk as he tries to pick up the thin and crumpling pages. He clenches his teeth in frustration and cold, his knees resting on the hard concrete and his hood having slipped off. His hair gets drenched almost instantly, bangs that he should have cut long ago falling in his eyes.

“Are you okay?” a voice above him asks, and when he glances up he sees ankles a couple of inches in front of his eyes. He follows the form until, through falling raindrops, he can see a dark purple raincoat wrapped around a lithe frame, silver hair poking out from underneath the hood. The man appears unfazed from the collision, but his eyes are wide, concerned.

Yuuri, flustered upon realizing that he must have just run straight into this man and collapsed, scrambles to his feet and pathetically grabs some of his ruined flyers as he does so. “Fine,” he answers. “Sorry.” He bows his head and keeps walking.

His teeth chatter.

“Wait,” the voice says, soft behind him.

Yuuri doesn’t. He keeps his head bowed and pretends not to hear him, feet shuffling and hands shoved deep in his coat pockets, the crumbled paper surrounding his fingers. He licks his lips—they taste of salt.

The rain pounds, covering most noises of Hasetsu. But the voice erupts above all of that—a shout, now. “Wait!”

He continues walking, but then there’s a hand on his shoulder. It attempts to turn him around and Yuuri does, searching the stranger’s eyes and taking an automatic step back. The man in front of him holds up one of Yuuri’s crumpled flyers, displays it to him with desperation written across his features. “Found poodle?”

In any other scenario involving a man grabbing his shoulder in the dark on a rainy night, Yuuri would be concerned. But in this scenario, seeing the way that the other man’s eyes search his with desperation and devoted ferocity, seeing the way that his fingers are trembling as he clutches the paper like it’s a lifeline, seeing the way that his lower lip trembles ever-so-slightly, the way that the rain beads on his cheeks and he doesn’t even seem to notice, Yuuri stands still. And nods.

“I…” the man starts, and fumbles for his messenger bag. He takes out a piece of paper and shows it to Yuuri, the rain instantly spotting it.

LOST POODLE.

Yuuri struggles to find words for a second, his mind processing the evidence in front of him. Then, he cocks his head in time with another lightning strike. “He’s at my home. My family owns a hot springs.”

“Take me there,” the man says. “Please.”

Silently, he turns on his heels and begins walking towards home. He keeps his hood pulled over his head with one hand and shoves the other in his pocket, trying to regain some warmth. As they walk, the rain doesn’t let up, and Yuuri’s glasses are completely covered, making it impossible to see properly. Luckily, he knows the streets well enough to get by.

When they make it underneath the front awning, Yuuri takes in a deep breath, leaning against the exterior wall and hearing the pound of rain echoing in his ears. The man looks anxious, eyes unwavering from the front door. Understanding, Yuuri opens it, toeing off his shoes before he steps inside. The man copies the action, and in an instant he has passed through the door, eyes flickering about.

“Makkachin?” he calls.

“He’s down that ha—” Yuuri starts, but is interrupted by the large poodle sprinting into the room and immediately tackling the stranger. His two front paws dig into his chest and the man laughs, both arms wrapping immediately around the dog and his face being buried in his fur.

“Makka,” he greets, pulling away to meet the poodle’s eyes. His fingers begin to brush through his fur, then reach his neck. “He didn’t have his collar on.”

“No,” Yuuri confirms.

The silver-haired man shakes his head, with confusion or disbelief Yuuri isn’t sure. He spends another minute fawning over his pet, and Yuuri stands there awkwardly. He’d come to grow fond of the poodle—Makkachin, the owner had called him—over the past few days. However, he’s more glad that this man had found him. Eventually, he stands, turns to Yuuri.

And steps closer.

And hugs him.

Yuuri stands there, unmoving, as the man squeezes him, face ducked into his damp shoulder. “Thank you. Thank you.”

“Um… Yeah… Yeah, that’s…” Yuuri starts, feeling his cheeks heating. They’re dripping on each other, but mostly, they’re dripping on the floor. He wonders what his parents will think of that whenever they get home.

The man pulls away, stares into his eyes. “You’re cold,” he realizes aloud.

Yuuri blinks. “What? No, I’m—”

“Do you have towels?”

“Well, yes, but—”

“Where?”

He runs a hand through his hair, unsure of how to answer. “Well, there are some in the cupboard over there, but really it’s—”

The man unlatches the cupboard and produces a white towel. Then, he approaches Yuuri, devours him with his gaze once, twice, then hands the towel to him. He steps back to the cupboard and takes one for himself, drying his hair off and fluffing it in an almost violent manner. Yuuri doesn’t move, towel hanging from his hands and eyes fixated on, well, if he’s being honest, that man’s hair. And general presence.

“Do you have a fireplace?”

Yuuri shakes his head.

“Warm food? That would help you. Or, I know…” He steps into the kitchen, starts looking around. “Tea. I’ll make you tea. I make excellent tea.” He spins around on his heels, looks Yuuri up and down again. “Go rest.”

“I don’t even know your name,” Yuuri realizes aloud.

For a second, the stranger looks dazed. “Victor. My name is Victor. Now go rest…?”

A pause.

“Oh,” Yuuri breathes. “Yuuri. I’m Yuuri.”

“Go rest, Yuuri. Your teeth are chattering. And you’re shivering.” He squints. “Just a little. How long were you in the rain for?”

This man’s English is almost too fast for Yuuri’s mind to keep up with. His thoughts reel. “Um, I don’t know.”

He clicks his tongue, but doesn’t say anything else. Instead, he turns to the kitchen supplies, produces a kettle from one of the drawers. Makkachin glances between Yuuri and Victor, happily panting and unaware of the situation. When Yuuri walks towards the table and sits cross-legged in front of it, Makkachin sits right beside him.

He brushes his fingers through the poodle’s fur and realizes how warm he is. Yuuri leans closer, lets his cheek rest on top of Makkachin’s head, releases a sigh as his eyes fall shut. He is shivering, he realizes.

“Tea,” Victor says a few minutes later. He sets it down on the table and Yuuri accepts it gratefully, hands wrapping around the inviting warmth. Victor sits across from him with a cup of his own and Makkachin loyally marches over to him, resting so that his back is against his owner’s thigh. With one hand, Victor pets his dog, and with the other he holds the cup. “As thanks.”

“No thanks necessary,” Yuuri promises, doing an awkward involuntary shiver as the warmth of the tea fights off the cold of his body. “I’m glad we ran into each other.”

Victor smiles. “So am I. Would you let me give you a more proper thank you? When we’re both not soaking wet?”

Yuuri stares. “A more proper thank you?”

“Let me buy you lunch. In exchange, I’ll let you visit Makkachin anytime.”

He cracks a smile at that. “Really?”

“Mmm. He likes you. I could tell.”

Yuuri licks his lips. “Deal, then.”

“Tomorrow?”

“Tomorrow.”

#anonymous #maddie answers #prompt #victuuri #yuri on ice

[backseat-negan]

| “Welcome Home” - One-Shot |

This is my submission for @negans-dirty-girl‘s 4k writing challenge! I’ve never written anything other than my multi-chapter fic, so this was new and difficult for me, but I really enjoyed it. I hope you do as well! I know it’s supposed to be a Negan fic but I had to put a hefty amount of Simon in there too after meeting Steven Ogg this weekend and remembering how much I love Simon.

Characters: Simon & Negan x Reader

Words: 1,871

Prompts: Raincoat, Make a Wish, and/or Silhouette (could pick one, two, or all three - I decided to do all three)

Cautions: just language & a bit of violence

It was cold, it was wet, and you were pissed off.

Separating from your group had proven to have dire consequences, even though you knew it had to be done. Landon had become unpredictable and emotionally volatile, and it was only a matter of time before he put your entire group in danger. You had also noticed a change in Keira, and you weren’t sure who she tied her loyalties to anymore. As the newest member of the group, you were almost certain if anything happened and they needed a scapegoat or a sacrifice, it would be you.

So you ran.

Leaving in the dead of night was the only way you could get away unnoticed, but you regretted it barely an hour later when another small group of survivors used the cover of darkness to assault you. A sudden crack over the head with god-knows-what had rendered you unconscious, and when the world began to reappear in a fuzzy and confused picture, you heard a handful of voices surrounding you. A woman’s voice stood out to you first.

“Do we really have to take everything, Vex? We’re not goddamn monsters. You can’t leave her a fucking knife to protect herself?”

“So she can track us down and kill us off? Not a fucking chance in hell. Take her coat, there’s rain coming and you don’t have one, Rory.” The man’s voice was low and gruff, and you could hear him breathing heavily. Another voice, one that seemed to belong to a younger boy, spoke hesitantly.

“I don’t… I don’t want it. She’ll freeze. It’s too damn cold out.”

“Watch your fucking language,” growled the man. “Take her coat and let’s get out of here before she wakes up.”

You could feel your coat being wrestled from your body and heard your backpack being zipped shut. You fought like hell to open your eyes, to move your arms or legs - to do anything - but you could hardly think clearly, much less coordinate any movement. You listened to the thud of shoes on dirt and the cracking of sticks as the group ran away, taking all of your supplies with them.

You weren’t sure how long you laid there, head foggy and vision distorted, but when the distant rumbles of thunder drew nearer and you felt raindrops begin to strike your face, your brain suddenly snapped you back to full consciousness and you realized you had to get moving if you were going to survive the night. Struggling to your feet with an uncontrollable groan, you clung to a nearby tree until you felt your sense of balance begin to return. You fumbled through your pockets frantically.

Those fuckers really did take everything.

Shelter. I need to find shelter.

Now you focused on putting one foot in front of the other, stumbling drunkenly through the forest. Every time you heard the snarl of a walker, you immediately headed the opposite direction. You had no idea where you were going, but you knew if you stopped moving you would die. The trees began to thin out as you started to make out what appeared to be a road just a little ways ahead of you. Your head was throbbing and the fog was returning as you zigzagged forward, desperate to reach anything that would give you a sense of direction.

The rain was pouring like a flood from the sky and you could feel your shoes beginning to squelch in the mud. Blinding flashes of lightning were becoming more frequent and as the trees cleared, you suddenly became weak again. Slipping forward and landing on your hands and knees, you tried to keep moving - the road was so close - but you realized your strength was gone. You surrendered to your body’s vulnerability and sat backwards, not caring about the mud saturating your pants as you leaned your shoulders into the trunk of the tree behind you. Your eyes fluttered shut, but you remained semi-conscious, still sensing the flashes of lightning and the cold sting of the rain on your face and arms.

A strike of lightning seemed to light up your eyelids for an eternity, but when no crack of thunder followed you forced your eyes open to see the source of the light. The headlights of a truck were pointed directly at you and adrenaline instantly forced you into alertness. As your heart began to race, you struggled to push yourself to your feet, slipping on the saturated leaves around you. A voice called out over the dull roar of the rain and thunder, “Whoa, whoa! Hold on! You don’t have to run!” You turned to see the silhouette of a man against the headlights, hands on his hips and feet apart.

“Can I come over? You look like hell, darling.”

Despite the voice in your head screaming at you to run without stopping, you sank to the ground again and nodded your head in defeat. The man jogged quickly to you and immediately threw a coat around your shoulders, looking you up and down with concern.

“It’s no raincoat, but it’ll at least keep you a little warmer,” he muttered. You saw his eyes settle on the side of your head. He continued gently, “Look, I’m taking you with us, and I’m not asking for permission. You’re hurt and you know it.” You did know it, but your stomach still twisted into a knot at the thought of getting in a truck with a man you had only just met. He slipped his arm under your shoulder and around your back as he pulled you to your feet, allowing you to lean heavily on him as you took staggered and messy steps towards the road.

“Jesus Christ, sweetheart, you got fucked up real good, didn’t you?”

You chuckled, but it shot a sharp pain through your head and you groaned as you continued to stumble forward. Upon reaching the vehicle, the man pulled the back door open and lifted you into the back seat, making sure not to hit your head on the door frame. The door slammed shut and he jumped into the driver’s seat, throwing the truck into gear and accelerating hard. You could see him repeatedly glancing at you in the mirror, and he finally spoke.

“I’m Simon. You’re lucky as hell our man Dwight here got stuck in the storm and we had to go searching for him, otherwise you’d be in a lot of shit right now.”

You threw your gaze to the other side of the back seat where a man with dark blonde hair was shaking uncontrollably, water still dripping from his face and hair from being in the rain. They must’ve found him right before they found you. He stared forward with a neutral look on his face and when a flash of lightning lit up the car, you noticed the side of his face was heavily scarred.

“Hear that, Dwight? It’s your lucky day,” boomed Simon, “Because if I had to drag myself out here just to save your sorry ass, I’d be in a much worse mood. Learn your fucking lesson, boy. Don’t go running off to find your little traitor of an ex-wife in the middle of a fucking storm.” The man named Dwight was silent, and you felt a twinge of nervous discomfort knowing there had to be more to the story than you were getting at the moment.

It wasn’t long before the truck began to slow and you squinted at the front window, barely making out the shape of a tall fence and walkers milling about. Your heart rate spiked at the sight of the undead, but Simon chuckled and said, “Don’t worry, sweetheart. Where we’re going is on the other side of the fence.”

A gate slid open and the truck pulled through, tires crunching the wet gravel beneath them. As the engine shuddered to a halt, Simon hopped out and pulled your door open, easing you out of the truck and onto your still unsteady feet. You leaned heavily on him and he led you to the door of a nearby building. You could hear the guards rolling the gate shut and the sound of who you assumed was Dwight following behind you. Upon reaching the building, Simon heaved the door open and helped you step inside. You watched the rainwater dripping from your face and clothes, quickly forming a puddle on the floor below you.

“Pardon my goddamn French, but what the fucking fuck do we have here?”

You brought your eyes up to see a tall, lean man sauntering down the hallway toward you. His boots thudded on the concrete floor and a playful grin danced on his face as he dragged his tongue across his bottom lip. You caught movement out of your peripheral and glanced back to see Dwight kneeling on one knee with his eyes glued to the ground. A low chuckle escaped the tall man’s lips as he murmured, “Finally learning your place around here, Dwighty boy?” He continued walking until he stood just inches from you, the same mischievous smile still playing on his face as Simon spoke up.

“Found her on the side of the road, boss. Someone whacked her in the head pretty good. Hasn’t talked yet and can barely walk. Didn’t have a damn thing on her - no bag, no coat, no weapon… nothing. Just those clothes.”

The tall man’s eyes darkened with concern as he thanked Simon and reached up with a leather-gloved hand to gently turn your head to the side, inspecting what you assumed was turning out to be an impressive wound. He threw his arm around your shoulders, dismissing Simon and Dwight as he helped you walk down the dimly lit hallway. Even though you knew you should be nervous, somehow this man made you feel safe, made you feel like everything was going to be okay.

“We have a doctor here who can patch you up. That’s a nasty cut. What the hell’d you get hit with?”

You shrugged with embarrassment. Your memory of the attack was choppy at best, and the only thing you could really remember was what they took from you. The tall man sighed, giving you a gentle squeeze as you continued to walk. By the time you reached the clinic, your head felt clearer, but the exhaustion was beginning to set in. When the door swung open, you saw an older man sitting in a chair reading some kind of lengthy medical book. His eyes grew wide when he looked up at you and he immediately jumped up and helped ease you into a nearby chair. The tall man relayed to the doctor what Simon had told him before he turned to you with a cocky smile and spoke with a deep and reassuring voice that still had an air of authority.

“Where are my fucking manners, let me introduce myself. I’m Negan. And I don’t know what god you prayed to or shooting star you wished on, but you just hit the jackpot. Your life is about to get a whole lot better. Welcome to the Sanctuary. Welcome home.”

Tagging @negans-dirty-girl since it’s her challenge, but also tagging @isayweallgetdrunk and @negan–is–god because they might want to read it. I’ll also tag @negans-network in case they want to post it.

#negans-dirty-girl 4k challenge #simon x reader #negan x reader #twd fanfiction #twd fanfiction oneshot #backseat-negan #negan fanfiction #simon fanfiction #negans-network