#i was drawing him and squinting and being like 'it's weird that he's taller than me'

[m0chaminx]

Kung Lao | Shirt Thief

*•.¸♡Request: no, but inspired by @heavenlyvision fic Matters (go read all her work if you haven't already it's so good)

*•.¸♡Prompts: none

*•.¸♡Warnings: Smut MDNI, Raiden being a ladies man, p in v, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it), a little bit a plot, no use of y/n, Kung Lao is taller than reader, the knee thing, praise, big dick Kung Lao, begging if you squint, marking, pet names (angel, baby), oral Fem!receiving, hair pulling, Kung Lao being desperate for praise, kinda rough smut, Raiden walking in (At the end), fluffy ending, this is my first smut in a while (go easy on me), I wrote this while high

*•.¸♡Paring: Kung Lao x F!reader

*•.¸♡Summary: You had never looked so good, why did you have to wear his clothes? Why did you have to be so annoying?

or

Your mission to annoy Kung Lao takes a different turn after you steal his clothes and his bed

*•.¸♡Words: 3.6k

You hadn’t exactly planned to spend your night like this. You sat on the couch in the living room, flipping mindlessly through the pages of a book. After a lovely dinner at Madame Bo’s, but honestly, they were all lovely, just before you could order dessert for the two boys a girl had swept Raiden off his feet, suggesting she’d pay for his dessert if she could spend the rest of the night with him, and, as Kung Lao put it left you both for dead. The walk back to your small home was gruelling, Kung Lao complaining the whole time about he was the one that was meant to be swept off his feet. 

You closed the book and tossed it on the small table, huffing as you threw your head back to stare at the ceiling. Once you got home Kung Lao had locked himself in his room, still sulking. You turned your head to stare at his door, spend the night bored on the couch or annoy Kung Lao for your own entertainment. The answer was clear, and you kicked yourself off the couch, walking to his door.

You knocked twice before opening it. Kung Lao sat on the bed, weaving the loose bit of straw back into his hat. “Are you done being a baby?” Your voice was teasing as you leant against the wall.

His hands stopped and he scoffed. “I’m not being a baby,” Kung Lao huffed, staring up at you.

“Sure you aren't,” You rolled your eyes and closed the door behind you as you walked to his set of draws.

“And what are you doing?”

You trifled through the draws for a few moments before pulling one of Kung Lao’s long grey shirts. You turned back to him and shrugged. “My bed’s crap and you know it.”

“So? Go sleep in Raiden’s.”

You laughed silently and turned away, pulling off the shirt you had worn to work earlier that day. Kung Lao’s eyes widened as you so shamelessly stripped in front of him, the bare skin of your back so clearly on display. You shook your head and laughed at Kung Lao’s suggestion, “So Raiden can come back with his lady friend and I give him a heart attack? No thank you.”

You pulled Kung Lao’s shirt over your head and turned back to face him, who still stared so shamelessly. “Move over.”

“You just stole my shirt!” Kung Lao complained, his eyes lifting to meet yours. You placed a hand on your hip and raised an eyebrow.

Kung Lao sighed. He hung his hat on the bed frame and shuffled closer to the edge of the bed, making room for you. You pulled the blanket back and slipped in beside him. You rested your head against his shoulder, your hands moving with the end of the blanket. You nudged Kung Lao’s side, waiting for him to wrap his arm around you, as he had done before when you would disturb his daytime naps.

You nudged him again, this time digging your elbow into his side. “Hey! What was that for?”

“What’s up with you?” Kung Lao hummed in confusion, his eyebrows furrowing. “You’re never this upset, it’s not even upset, you're just acting weird.”

Kung Lao scoffed, trying to hide it with a chuckle. “I’m not being weird.”

“Yes you are.” You prodded his side again, getting an annoyed sound out of Kung Lao. “What’s up with you?”

“Nothing.” Another poke.

“Hey-” Another poke.

“I mean it.” Another poke.

“Seriously, cut it out.”

You moved to poke him again, but he seized your wrists, his hands fitting around them perfectly as he pushed you back against the bed. He climbed on top of you, his thighs pinning your legs against the bed. “I said cut it out,” His voice dropped slightly and your heart hammered against your chest.

You tried to pull your hands from his grip, but his hands only tightened. “Get off me,” You huffed, your head dropping back against the pillows.

“Nope, this suits me quite nicely.” Kung Lao shook his head, a teasing smile taking over his face. You tried to wiggle out of his hold, your hips trying to shuffle back and your legs rubbed against him. One of Kung Lao’s hands shot down to grip your side, pushing you back against the bed and holding you still. “Don’t move like that.” His voice was breathy as his head dropped. You couldn't see his eyes, but by the way his eyebrows pinched you could tell they were screwed shut.

“What’s up with you?”

“Me?” Kung Lao laughed softly. “You just stripped in front of me, climbed into my bed and then grinded against me.” Your eyes winded and a soft breath passed your lips. “Not to mention you're wearing my shirt and it looks too goddamn good on you.”

Your cheeks burned in realisation. “Oh.”

You tried to slide back but his grip on your side tightened and you were thankful he wasn't looking anymore otherwise he would have seen your teeth sink into your lip to keep quiet. His hand loosened and he took a soft breath. “Just don’t move.”

“Why?”

Kung Lao dipped his head closer to yours, eyes dancing across your face but kept moving back to your lips. “Cause if you move I’m gonna kiss you and I’m not gonna stop.”

“Kiss me then.”

Kung Lao shook his head, his eyes moving from your face and this time you stared at him. The dip of his nose, his soft lips and his tongue that shot out to swipe across his pink lips. His eyes moved back to yours and your gaze fixed on his dark coffee eyes. “I’m not messing around,” He said, his voice dropping again.

You shook your head and your eyes drifted back to his lips. “Neither am I.” His grip loosened enough and you slipped one of your hands from his and traced the line of his cheekbone. You pulled him closer, and you raised your head off the bed, your nose crushing ever so slightly against his. “Kiss me Kung Lao.”

His eyes scanned over your face once more before dipped his head down to yours, connecting your lips and kissing you feverishly. His hand glided up your side, raising goosebumps across your skin as his fingers found your jaw, tipping your head up, his lips pressing harder against yours. Your teeth nipped his bottom lip, pulling a soft gasp from him. You slipped your tongue through his lips and he tried to pull you impossibly closer.

He shifted his hips, his thigh moving between yours to press his knee against you. A whine tore itself from your throat and your head fell back against the bed. You moved your hips against his knee and Kung Lao made a sound of approval as his lips trailed down your jaw and across your throat. His name fell from your lips in a soft moan and his knee worked harder against you.

“You sound so fucking pretty,” his words vibrated against your throat.

You hand tugged at the collar of his shirt and he lifted his head. “Take your clothes off, please.” Kung Lao complied, sitting back on his knees and pulling his shirt off. You pushed yourself up, your nails running across his abs as your lips attached to his throat, biting and sucking dark marks into his soft skin.

He pulled back for a moment to slip out of his pants and while you pulled your shirt over your head. He stood over you, his hands moving to hold your face as he kissed you softly. “You wanna stop, just tell me okay?”

“Don’t want you to stop,” You mumbled against his lips.

“Fucking hell angel.” He knelt by the bed, his large hand wrapping around your thighs and pulled you closer. He pressed small kisses to your thighs, nipping at your skin and leaving marks behind.

His hands trailed up your inner thighs, slipping under your shots and brushing against the soft fabric of your panties. “You don’t have to,” Your words trembled as his hands continued to tease too close to where you needed him.

“I want to, have to.” He pulled back to pull your shorts and underwear off at once. “I’m the best you’re gonna have, gotta prove it.” His hand trailed up your legs again, one hand moving to swipe through your folds. Your wetness clung to his fingers and he hummed, a cocky smile spreading across his cheeks. “Didn’t know I got you so worked up.”

“Don’t be a bitch, Kung Lao.”

He laughed and pressed a kiss to your navel, his lips dragging against your skin as his kisses grew lower. His name fell from your lips and his grip tightened, pulling you suddenly against his mouth. Your head fell back against the bed with a loud moan as his tongue began to lap at your pussy. He pulled your legs onto his shoulders, your hips angling so every time he moved his head his nose pressed against your clit.

Your hips moved to grind against his face but he held you tightly, stopping your squirming. Kung Lao chuckled against your clit, the vibrations running through you. Your hands shot down to his head, weaving your fingers through his hair to pull him closer against you. He finally released your hips to squeeze your thighs that had locked against his face. 

His strong tongue pressed against you, slipping over your entrance. The movements made you squirm and tremble as his name lipped from your lips, melding into your pleas and moans. You rolled your hips against his mouth, searching for more as your clit rolled against his tongue. 

Kung Lao’s hands dragged up your side, raising goosebumps at the slow touch. The soft whine that left your lips made his stomach tighten and made his cock twitch. He pressed his face further into your wet cunt, taking everything you gave him.

You could feel your end nearing, writhing against Kung Lao’s tongue as pressed harder against you. Then one his hands slid away and his fingers were at your entrance, gathering your slick on his fingers before gently prodding at your hole. A needy whine pours from your lips and Kung Lao chuckles, the vibrations running through you. His fingers slid inside you, your walls clenching around his as his fingers pressed against parts of yourself you could never reach. 

“Kung Lao,” Your voice was shallow and shaky as you called for him, trying to hold onto whatever control you had over yourselves. “Please, need more.”

“Not yet.” His reply was quick and muffled, still focused on the way your pussy pulsed around his fingers. “Need you to cum, need you to make a mess.”

His fingers curled inside you and your grip on his hair tightened, your breathing quicking as you tiptoed around the edge. His fingers sped up, becking you closer to the edge but it was the light graze of his teeth against your clit that had you cumming, your cunt clenching on his fingers like a vice. 

His hand still, gently grinding his fingers against your clit as he brought his head up, his own breath doubled as he panted softly. Your hands slid from his hair, falling to your sides as you tried to catch your breath, the shocks from your orgasm still burning with hot pleasure. Carefully Kung Lao removed his hand and stood, leaning over you, one hand pressed into the mattress. 

“You still with me?” Kung Lao teased, his forehead pressing against yours. You hummed lazily and grabbed his jaw, pulling him into a slow kiss. You only broke away when your hand grabbed his wrist, pulling his hand still coated in your juices towards your mouth. His eyes singled on your mouth as your lips wrapped around his fingers sucking him clean. He cursed, his dick jumping at the sight.

You gently pushed him back and stood on uneasy legs. He looked down at you, towering over you as your fingers traced his skin. You spun the both of you around and pushed him onto the bed. He landed on his back and quickly pushed himself onto his elbows. “What’re you doing baby?” You crawled back onto the bed, your leg swinging over his, your bare pussy landing on his still covered cock. His head dropped back slightly, the thin material doing little to hide how wet you were. “Fuck… you’re so warm.”

Your hips ground hard against his, his cock twitching and his elbows gave out. His head fell back groaning at the feeling but it turned into a soft whine as you slid back, pulling his underwear down. You tossed them aside and crawled back up his body, pulling him into a quick kiss before trailing kissed down his throat.

You reached for his heavy cock, pumping slowly. His breath hitched as your hand worked his long, thick cock, your hand so small against him. You sat straight, lining his cock at your entrance, your walls sucking in the tip so quickly it made Kung Lao let a breath moan. A soft whine of your name passed his lip as his hands came to your hips to pull you down but you slapped his hand softly. “Ah, what was that for?” He tried to sound menacing but his voice was so shaky.

You fared no better. The tip of his dick stretched you so well, pleasure and pain mixing in a seering burn that you couldn't help but love. Your hips lowered ever so slightly, your head rolling back as you gripped his wrist for support. “You’re so big, need to go slow,” Your voice was hushed, trying to hide the whines on the tip of your tongue.

Kung Lao chuckled softly, “You flatter me angel.” One of his hands left your hip to race light circles on your clit, trying to relax you to let him slip deeper. You leaned forward, taking a few more inches as you kissed him again. It barely counted as a kiss, messy and disorganised as you tried to distract yourself from the burn in your thighs. “You’re so fucking tight,” Kung Lao whispered, his lips moving to nip at your jaw. “Your tight, wet pussy stretching around me. Feels so good. I’m not even fully in you yet.”

Your eyes fluttered as his cock slipped deeper, your pelvis finally meeting his. He held your hips tight against his, pushing you back and forth slightly to grind you against his cock. The feeling of his cock pressing against your gummy walls had your eyes rolling back, needy whines escaping you as each roll of your hips. His cock knocked something so deep inside you, a long moan filling the room, “Fuck… can feel you- so good.” He didn’t know if it was the whines in your voice or the praise that spurred him on but his hips bucked up, trying to chase you. Another moaned sentence of how good you felt, how good he was fucking you fell from your lips, almost incoherent but the way your head dropped against his neck and hips stutted- Fuck!

Kung Lao grabbed your hips, rolling you underneath him. He pulled your highs up onto his hips, the angle of his cock shifting to press against your most sensitive spot. You clenched around him as he started to rock his hips deep inside you. “Fuck, so good.” His hand ran up your arm and to your hand to lace his fingers through yours, feeling you grip his hands so slightly. 

His grip on your hip tightened as his thrusts sped up, his pelvis hitting your clit as his cock reached so deep inside you. Your free hand held onto his back, your nails nipping his skin as his cock snapped harder against you, drilling into you like he was made for it. His cock dragged along your walls, cum creaming at the base of his dick as he fucked into you, lost in the promise of his own orgasm.

Your walls pulsed around him feeling so full as his cock rammed harder against you. Your nails ran down his back, leaving marks in his skin as you tried to ground yourself but your second orgasm was quickly approaching. “Lao-” Your voice cut short as Kung Lao pulled your hip higher onto his, your knee bending slightly.

“Gonna make me cum if you keep sayin’ my name like that baby,” Kung Lao whined against your neck. You turned your head to attach your lips to his, pulling him closer as you lost yourself in the pleasure, your pussy fluttering around him. He chuckled softly against your lips, his grip on your hand tightening, “You gon’ cum for me angel? Can feel you squeezing me tight.”

“Please,” You squeaked, your voice cracking, “Please.” His hand slipped from your leg to rub harsh and fast circles into your clit, needing to pull another orgasm from you before he would let himself go. You tried to warn him that your high was here but you couldn't form a sentence, babbling nonsense as he drew you closer to the edge.

Kung Lao pressed a final, heavy, hot kiss to your lips, “Cum for me, make a mess baby.” The pressure inside you snapped, your orgasm washing over you like a tidal wave. Your nails dug into his skin and your thighs squeezed his hips, trying to hold him close against you but his thrusts continued, fucking you through the plesure. 

He cursed, his grip hard enough that it would leave bruises. The squeeze of your tight walls against his sensitive cock made his head spin and his abs tighten, his own high clawing up his spine. He continued his thrusts but they grew sloppy, his hips instinctively bucking inside you. 

He tried to pull away but legs pulled him back in. You could barely form a sentence, your voice drowned in whines and moans, your mind lost to the blinding pleasure pulsing through you, “Pl- please! Need to feel you, need all- all of you!”

His head dropped to your shoulder, moaning softly as the tight feeling in his stomach let go, a pleasure that made his eyes screw shut taking over his body. He stilled against you, grinding his hips into yours to draw out both your orgasms. 

Kung Lao stopped his movements but was reluctant to move away from you, wanting to stay as close as possible. He pressed a few sweet kisses to your shoulder before he pushed his head from your shoulder, looking down at you. “You still mad I stole your shirt?” You teased, a soft chuckled playing at your lips. 

Kung Lao shook his head, “Keep stealing my shirts and you’ll end up like this every night.”

“That’s not as threatening as you think it is.” Kung Lao laughed, pressing a soft kiss to your lips before he pulled out, the both of you hissing at the feeling. Kung Lao helped you sit before cleaning you off, pressing soft kisses to the marks he left.

Kung Lao tossed you your clothes before pulling on his own pants. You reached for the grey shirt making Kung Lao laugh, “If you wanted round two you could have asked.” Kung Lao leaned over you, his hands pressing to either side of your body.

“Maybe I’m saving it for another time,” You teased, a smug smile pulling at your lips.

A knock at Kung Lao’s door made you both jump and you scrambled to pull on the shirt as Kung Lao called out a soft yes. Raiden opened the door, looking in but he kept a hand over his eyes as he stepped in. “Are you both done? I could hear you the second I walked in the front door.” Your cheeks burned in embarrassment and Kung Lao chuckled softly.

Raiden carefully took his hand away to look at you both, “Have some humility Lao,” Raiden chastised. “Put a shirt on, I brought dessert.” Raiden turned to close the door but stopped and turned back to Kung Lao, “And is this gonna be a proper thing? Because I think I’d much prefer to hear Kung Lao’s pinning then… that.”

Raiden closed the door without another word and you turned to Kung Lao, a small smile on your lips. “What’s he mean?”

Kung Lao sighed and dropped back against the bed, one hand moving to rest behind his head. “I don’t-” He cut himself off, closing his eyes. You laid next to him, resting your head on his shoulder. “I don’t want this to be a one time thing.”

“You know, I never expected to find someone like you,” you confessed, your fingers twirling his hair that had fallen from his bun.

Kung Lao's eyes crinkled with a hint of amusement, but his nervous tone was still present, "And what kind of someone did you expect?"

You chuckled, "Definitely not someone as incredible as you. I mean, you not only have these killer martial arts moves but also a heart that's surprisingly sweet."

Kung Lao's lips curved into a playful grin, "Well, don't let the hat fool you. It's not just for show."

You swung your leg over his hips, resting on his stomach. His hands immediately went to your hips, just resting there like they belonged. “We can go out tomorrow, talk about… this properly, but Raiden does have desert and that sounds pretty good right now.”

Kung Lao smiled and used one hand to push himself up, the other wrapping around you to keep you planted in his lap. His eyes wandered over your face, pausing on your bruised lips. “And if it wasn’t obvious,” You said softly, your lips drawing closer to his, “I really really like you Kung Lao. Ego and all.”

“Well, that's good, you can keep stealing my shirts then.”

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#m0chaminx #mk1 kung lao #mk1 raiden #mk1 2023 #mk1 #mk1 smut #mk1 x reader #mortal kombat #mortal kombat 1 #kung lao #kung lao smut

[stayathome-ts]

Had a dream as myself and separate from the others yesterday, so I ended up doodling about that late last night

[ID: a series of linear doodles done in a brush that looks like red pen. The first doodle shows Tony from the back, looking at a bracket box which says: “Whatever was going on in the others group dream.” The thought bubble next to him reads: “Uhh. Yeah no fuck this I’m out of here.” In the doodle next to this he heads towards a parking lot by a highway. There are a few cars in it. The next doodle shows one specific car in detail. It’s an orange car with what looks like a turbine on the back, and is styled a little like retro futuristic cars. The caption next to it reads: “This is a really quick & spotty drawing but just trust me. Weird shiny car.” Tony looks at it and frowns in a shrugging way, thinking: “…I could steal that. No real cops here after all.”

The other half of the page is divided from this, and starts with the context caption reading: “Later, after being a menace on the road for 10 miles to distance myself from the main dream.” The doodle below it shows Tony in some sort of public courtyard with people walking around. He looks up at a staircase to see another, dream-Tony walking down it. Dream-Tony is indicated to not be an alter. Tony thinks to himself: “Hey what the fuck? Since when are there doubles here??” The next doodle shows Tony looking up, squinting in confusion: “What the hell is with this guy??” (After chatting for a while). The doodle below that shows the two standing next to each other. Dream-Tony is taller than actual Tony by a couple inches, and also wearing a dress shirt and blazer, and a fancy scarf. Actual Tony thinks: “Why is he taller?? The fuck??”.

Some notes to the side of this read characteristics of dream-Tony, including: 1) Wears fancy scarves on the regular, and 2) divorced from Pepper & not on speaking terms (wild) (we talked later in the dream though, which was interesting). /End ID]

#art tag #is this art? I don’t think this counts as art besides maybe the car

[reineydraws]

it's my birthday today so it's my farmer's birthday too lol 🎉

#sdv that farm #sdv #sdv fanart #sdv farmer #sdv sam #stardew valley #stardew valley fanart #stardew valley farmer #stardew valley sam #stardew fanart #stardew farmer #stardew sam #sam's bday is summer 17 and mine is summer 23 so that's nice :') summer babies ftw!!! #not me drawing my self-insert celebrating her bday with her npc husband hahaha #i never draw smth for my bday but thought it might be nice cuz i actually have digital drawing utensils this year #was playing around with drawing me and yaku or me with my recent(ish) otp's (ie. dabihawks and kkir and kryk) but like #it wasnt working out :/ i was too lazy to draw more than one person besides me & yaku doesnt look as much like yaku when he's the tallest 😂 #i was drawing him and squinting and being like 'it's weird that he's taller than me' #is yaku really yaku if he's not standing beside actual giants??? 🤷🏻‍♀️🤷🏻‍♀️🤷🏻‍♀️ #i do have a doodle of me wearing his olympic merch but i didnt like it enough to post it as a Thing so i did a sdv thing instead #did i literally JUST draw this same exact pose like three days ago and post it? yes lol it's cute ok #and my farmer's dressed different this time!

[helliontherapscallion]

Who? (Forlorn Tale of Dionysus Part 2)

Part 1

Warnings: Swearing

Word count: 2,843

(A/N): I’m not exactly sure if this will continue any further, this was just a fun little thing I had in my drafts for a while after some interesting convos in my discord server (which you totally should join, it’s a vibe). This is lowkey word vomit, but eh. This is all strictly platonic btw

“Michael, are you sure you saw a house out here? I really don’t think-” You were interrupted by your much shorter friend yanking on your sleeve to get your attention. You looked down at him in question and watched as he raised his hands.

‘I am sure I saw that house, (y/n)! It is here somewhere.’ 

You fiddled with the sleeves of your thick coat with unease, “alright, but if we don’t find it soon I wanna head back. Uncle Boo and Uncle Tubbo are probably going to start to worry.”

Michael huffed at the mention of his parents. You knew how overbearing they were, causing your friend to crave new experiences and adventures. You’d known him for a couple of years now and he was rebelling more with each passing day. You could relate slightly, Philza and Technoblade had hardly let you out of the house without another person to accompany you. You never really understood why, you were almost thirteen now so you should be able to explore what you want. 

An excited squeal left your friend’s mouth before he started to pull you towards something in the distance, startling you out of your trance. You matched his pace with ease and felt nervous excitement tingle in your chest. 

As you got closer, you could make out small details of the cabin. It was a simple small cabin built out of spruce planks with glass windows and a brick chimney, but you liked it. It strangely felt homey. 

You pulled Michael into a nearby shrub underneath a window and peered in. The interior was also as simplistic as the outside was, looking untouched and tidy as if nobody was living there. You could see that the ceilings were taller than average, perhaps a hybrid of some sort lived here? 

Michael tapped your shoulder, ‘it doesn’t look like anybody’s home right now. Let’s go in.’ 

You opened your mouth to object before the sight of his set jaw and his eyes dead set on something inside made you close it. You learned from experience that when he was this determined, there was no stopping him. You sighed, “fine, but the second we get caught, it was your idea.” 

You both made your way to the front door. Without a second thought, Michael twisted the doorknob and swung the door open. A startled snort left his throat as he stumbled inside, making you put a hand over your mouth to stifle your laughter. He jabbed the side of your lower torso, ‘shut up, I thought it was going to be locked.’

He pulled you inside and you both explored the living room. Bookshelves and portraits lined the walls, a single large couch sat off to the side, and the fireplace mantle was lined with a few small golden hooks. Michael made a beeline towards it, admiring the metal. It seems that’s what he saw that made him so determined to get inside. You hoped that he wouldn’t steal them and explored the area further. 

The portraits on the walls were a slight shock to you, they all included some people that you could recognize; in one you could make out a picture of younger versions of Ranboo, Philza, Technoblade, and Niki. Technoblade and Philza were sparring with shining golden swords while Ranboo and Niki sat in the grass on a hill watching with interest. Maybe this was just one of their old cabins? 

You saw people that you didn’t recognize as well. Namely a cat hybrid with striking sapphire blue eyes, a man seemingly human (you say seemingly because your eyes caught sight of pointed ears) wearing a white bandana keeping his jet black hair out of his face, a tall man with green freckles and a creeper mask, an anthropomorphic diamond block with beady black eyes and a wide smile, and a man that looked strangely like Ghostbur except he was wearing a uniform of some sort. However, a demon quickly caught your eye and made your heart leap for joy. There was someone out there that was like you! 

The man looked kind, always wearing a cheery smile and occasionally waving at the camera. He was tall and lanky, always towering over the others by a considerable amount. That made sense, Philza had told you that demons were naturally very tall when you asked him why you were growing faster than Michael when the zombie piglin was two years older than you were. Large wings and horns akin to yours sprouted from his back and head respectively. If he wasn’t constantly smiling, you would’ve thought that he was malevolent. 

You heard the rapid footsteps of Michael’s boots behind you as you turned around. You bounced on the balls of your feet excitedly, “Michael look, another demon! Do you think he lives here?”

You watched as he shrugged and pulled you towards the kitchen. ‘I don’t know, but look! There’s another demon that looks exactly like you!’ 

On the kitchen table surrounded by various trinkets (bottles of wine, gold bricks, stale bread, and the decomposed remains of flower crowns and bouquets being the majority of the items) laid a framed picture of said demon lazily smiling and looking off to the side. Michael was right, they looked exactly like you except at least a decade older. Everything matched your physical features to a tee; from the red accents on their black wings to the way they smiled, it was like they were your clone. The only thing of yours that they were missing was the three circular birthmarks on your forehead. It was eerily uncanny. 

Your eyes widened before you snatched the picture off from the table, studying them further. If you squinted, you could see that there was someone barely in frame. You flipped the frame around and took out the picture, unfolding it. In the picture was your adopted father and adopted uncles and aunt. What was going on? If they knew the demon, why didn’t they ever tell you about them? 

‘Woah, that was smart. Do you think you might be related to them or something?’ He tilted his head before he perked up, ‘could they be one of your biological parents?’ 

“Maybe, but if they were, why didn’t my dad tell me about them? I… have a right to know about them, right?”

He nodded firmly, ‘you definitely do. It’s kind of fucked up they haven’t told you anything about them.’ 

“Yeah, it is. Do you think something bad happened to them?... Oh shit, is this a memorial?” You hurriedly refolded the picture and put it back into its frame. 

Michael’s eyes widened and flickered around the table at the trinkets before he fished out two gold bars from his pocket and placed them onto the table. You crossed your arms, “what the fuck man?” 

‘I thought they wouldn’t miss a few pieces of gold! You would’ve done the same thing if you were a piglin,’ he defended himself before he paused and shuddered, ‘we’re in a dead person’s house, that’s creepy… What if their ghost is right behind us?’ 

You spun around and put yourself slightly in front of Michael, your heart beating in your throat. Nothing was there. Michael snorted, making you slap his arm, “not cool, man.” 

You were about to stomp off until a piece of paper caught your eye. It was a drawing of this person done in messy purple crayon, probably done by a very young child. It was signed by a Michael. 

You turned to the wheezing zombie piglin and patiently waited for him to stop laughing. When he did, you showed him the picture, “did you draw this? Did you know them?”

He scrunched up his brow in concentration, squinting at the paper. Eventually he shook his head slowly, ‘I don’t think so. At least I don’t remember drawing it… This is getting weird.’ 

You nodded in agreement, putting the drawing back onto the counter. You walked towards the stairs and climbed them. They creaked under your foot loudly, a part of you was scared that you would fall through them. It was clear they haven’t been used in some time. 

They led to a small loft, the ceiling coming to a point far overhead. A part of you was glad that this stranger (relative? Parent?) was a demon, it wasn’t often that you found lofts that fit all six and a half feet of you. 

Like the rest of the house, it was very simplistic. A gigantic bed laid in the center of the furthest wall, made neatly with multiple fluffy blankets, part you was tempted to catapult yourself onto it. On the nightstand next to it sat a redstone lamp and a frosted glass of water, cracks spider webbing up the sides presumably from the cold. 

You opened the lone drawer and discovered a book. Upon further inspection, you discovered that it was a journal with the name (y/n) written inside the cover. So this person had your name as well as your looks? This merely raised more questions than answers, so you slid the book into a pocket in your coat to read later. Under the book laid another picture of them posing with the strange group of people from the portraits downstairs. The de- (y/n) looked younger there. On the back, the word family was written and it was dated to be about twenty years old. You also pocketed the picture.

Michael walked over to the window and looked out at the vast tundra only to squeal in alarm. He ran over to you and pulled you downstairs. You looked out the window only to yelp when you saw a few crows standing on the window sill staring at you with their beady eyes. 

You and Michael ran out of the house as fast as the both of you could, the snow being slightly tough to run through for the five and a half foot tall zombie piglin. You could hear the crows following you overhead. After a while of running, you both finally got back to Snowchester and raced past Ranboo and Tubbo. You hid in Michael’s room with the curtains tightly drawn. 

You sat on his bed with your legs crossed and your back pressed up against the headboard. You let your head bang against the wall and you ran your hand down your face. “We’re fucked, dude. We’re literally so fucked.”

‘Uncle Phil’s still out of town so it’ll probably be a few days until they find out.’ Michael plopped next to you, panting and trying to regain his breath. “Still, we’re gonna be in so 

much trouble for going that far out. I didn’t think my dad’s crows were still here.”

‘Might as well read the journal you found before we get grounded.’

You nodded and took out the journal, flipping it open to the first page. You both read the journal until it was dark outside and Michael was passed out on your shoulder. Subconsciously, you wrapped your wing around him as you read the journal. 

The other (y/n) acted like you did for the most part, the only differences between you two was the lack of swearing and the fact that they felt alone even when they were surrounded by people. Your family’s names were dropped several times, especially when they were talking about ‘The Syndicate’. The code names they used were after various Greek myths, leading you to believe that Technoblade was one of the founders of the anarchist group. 

You had learned that their family (potentially your family?) was strangely possessed by an egg and that they were previously possessed by said egg. They had a brother named Sapnap (your potential uncle?) that helped them escape to the tundra. It was there that they found the Syndicate, reminding you of the found family tropes you would read in books. The last journal entry detailed their last mission, how they were going to destroy the Eggpire from within and get their family back. That entry in particular gave you chills, even someone with half a brain could tell what happened to them after that. 

By the time you had closed the book, it was dawn and the sun was peeking out from behind the closed curtains. You shook Michael awake and stretched out your aching body. Your neck muscles protested movement, sending a wave of pain across the area. 

‘Damn, did you stay up all night reading that?’ 

“Of course I did, why wouldn’t I? I needed to find out about my biological parent somehow. I just- nothing makes sense, Michael.” You growled out, your voice deepening and distorting slightly as your frustration rose. 

‘Chill! You’ll figure it out soon, let’s just focus on staying under the radar.’ 

“Too late for that.” 

You both jumped and fell off the bed as you heard Philza’s voice. In the doorway, Philza stood with Ranboo, Tubbo, and Technoblade by his side, all looking equally angry and disappointed. Next to you, Michael shrunk in on himself and smiled sheepishly. He was about to raise his hands to sign, but a pointed look from Tubbo next to him told him that there was no getting out of this one. 

Behind the anger, you could tell that something changed about the way the four were looking at you. You couldn’t tell what emotion they were hiding, whether it be wariness, longing, sadness, or just more unleashed anger, but you could tell that they knew something you didn’t. If the frustration that overcame you when you were reading the journal at the lack of questions answered burned inside of you, then what you felt now was a blazing inferno. 

“We’re going home, grab your stuff (y/n).” 

After a short staredown with the older man, you huffed in anger and gathered your things into your bag. The entire time, tense silence filled the room. Your hands were shaking with the rage you felt searing every inch of you. You could hear the sharp flicking of your pointed tail cutting through the air and occasionally hitting objects near you. 

When you were done you stomped over to your adopted family and shouldered between Philza and Technoblade, speed walking down the hallway. They quickly caught up with you after saying a quick apology and a goodbye, Technoblade grabbing your arm and holding it in a vice grip. 

They led you out of the mansion and into the harsh winds of the tundra. It wasn’t until Snowchester was far off in the distance that Technoblade shook your arm, “what the hell were you thinking, going into someone else’s house like that! You don’t know who lived there, you could’ve gotten yourself and Michael killed!” 

“You really thought I wouldn’t find out, didn’t you?” You ripped your arm out of his hold and spoke in a low voice, struggling to contain your full rage. “I have a goddamned right to know about them.” 

“...I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Philza muttered out and resumed walking back towards your house. “You’re grounded when we get back, no flying or dueling lessons for two weeks.” 

“Of course you know what I’m talking about, Dad! Why are you hiding them from me? I have a right to know about my biological parent even if they’re dead!” 

They both halted in their tracks and glanced at each other in slight confusion. “What-”

“You know damn well who I’m talking about. Gods, I can’t believe you thought I’d never find out,” you laughed sardonically as your hand subconsciously gripped your growing horn. “(Y/n)! You know, the demon that lived in that house? The one that looks exactly like me?! Does that ring a bell or do I have to show you this?” 

You rummaged in your pocket and ripped out the picture, shoving it into Philza’s hands. Technoblade looked over his shoulder at what you gave him. You watched as their expressions turned blank when they saw the demon in the picture. 

Minutes passed with them continuing to stare down at the picture and you were slowly getting impatient. “Why did you never tell me about them? Why are you keeping me from them?!” 

Without looking up at you, Philza mumbled, “you weren’t supposed to find out about them. You were never supposed to find out.” 

“Do you have any idea how ambiguous that is? Just tell me who they are!” You could feel your eye twitch as your frustration grew. 

You could see the internal conflict on Philza’s face growing by the second before he dipped his head downwards and stalked off in the opposite direction of the house. You spread your wings to chase him in the air, but Technoblade’s hand on your upper arm stopped you from lifting off. 

When you looked up at him, the look of regret and sorrow etched into his features caught you by surprise. “Let him go, he needs to do some thinking… (y/n), do you know what reincarnation is?”

General taglist (comment if you want to be added):

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Gender neutral reader taglist (comment if you want to be added):

@totem-awooga  @parkeepingparker  @whatislifebutlemons

#michael_beloved x reader #technoblade x reader #philza x reader #dream smp x reader #mcyt x reader #tw: swearing

[luxekook]

petal to the metal ✿ jjk

✿ pairing: jewelry-maker jungkook x florist reader

✿ genre: idiots to lovers, fluff, slight bits of crack and angst

✿ summary: every sunday, the farmers’ market took place in the center of town. vendors from near and far traveled to sell their crafts, their produce, their teas. as the local florist, you figured that running a booth each weekend would boost your business and bring in new clients. at least, those were your reasons in the beginning. but, now? now, you returned just for the handsome jewelry-maker whose booth was next to yours. 

✿ word count: 7k

✿ warnings: pg15, slight innuendo, mention of alcohol, noona!reader, mutual pining, memes, vmin as teen prom dates, chaotic 2seok + joon as jk’s bandmates, scheming yoongi as reader’s assistant, sweetheart jungkook tries his best but doesn't succeed, one (1) make out scene uwu

✿ beta’d by: the gracious phia @meowxyoong​

✿ banner by: the talented queen of banner-making maggie @kimtaehyunq​

People, to you, are not unlike bouquets of flowers - uniquely complex with traits grown and cultivated throughout the years and brought together to form meaning and personality. It is far too often that you assign flowers to the people you meet in passing. 

The boy running down the sidewalk chasing a butterfly is a blooming bunch of crocus (youthful gladness) and daisies (innocence).

The young woman storming out of the cafe after dumping her coffee on what you assume to be her ex is a flurry of peonies (anger) and black-eyed Susans (justice).

You find your flower assignments to be a fun way to pass the time when sitting alone in a coffee shop or walking along the beach.

They are decidedly not fun when you are caught staring unabashedly at a beautiful boy as imaginary petals of acacia (secret love) and daffodil (new beginnings) rain down upon him. 

The second his dark eyes flick up to meet yours, you whip around and pretend to be preoccupied with your display of forget-me-nots. The irony is not lost on you as you rearrange the already pristine pale-blue petals. You are more likely to forget your own name than to forget the image of the boy’s crinkly-eyed smile.

God, it’s only the first hour of the first Sunday of the Summer Farmer’s Market, and you are like this? Things are looking more and more dire by the minute. 

Your small beachside community holds the annual Summer Farmer’s Market every Sunday from the middle of May until the end of August. Not only does the market attract tourists, it boosts your own business and earns you year-round customers.

Founding Of Fern & Freesia Flower Co. has been one of your proudest achievements to date - perhaps second only to chugging a beer faster than a misogynist on a bar crawl. Now in your third year of business, you feel accomplished in the slow but steady growth of your shop. You have poured your heart and soul into your business, leaving little time for other endeavors.

Hence, you’re wary of your growing fascination with the owner of the neighboring stall. 

When you had rolled up earlier with your overflowing cart of flowers, you had set up shop next to a jewelry booth full of gleaming silver and vibrant stones. It hadn’t been until a clang and a muffled curse sounded from the neighboring stall that you noticed it’s owner.

The first thing you had noticed was his outfit - all black clothing with boots that looked like they could stomp through steel. The second had been his adorable pout as he fiddled with a couple bracelets he must have just dropped. And the third - the third had been his hands and the gentle but steady way they fashioned the jewelry back in order.

The opening rush had distracted you from your growing interest for a bit; but the early birds have all since scattered, leaving you alone in between an old woman selling honey and a cute boy selling handcrafted jewelry. Now that you have thoroughly embarrassed yourself by being caught staring, you figure you should at least attempt to busy yourself.

You flutter around your stall, checking on flowers and rearranging errant blossoms. 

“H-hey, do you have any tiger flowers?” A soft, sweet voice calls to you from one stall over. You pause in your movements. That can't be who you think it is... But when you turn your head to address the speaker, you find yourself face to face with your mystery boy.

Magically, you manage to blurt out a semi-coherent response, “Oh, hello! No, I don’t have any tiger flowers right now… I do have some tiger lilies?” You gesture to the orange be-speckled bunch in the corner of your stall. 

“Oh,” The boy deflates a bit, but then perks back up, “Well, I’m Jungkook. I make jewelry.” He gestures to his collection behind him. “It’s more of a hobby, actually. I’m a vocalist, but I really like working with my hands part-time.”

Your eyebrows raise, and Jungkook blushes profusely. “I didn’t mean it like that!” He whines, his bottom lip jutting out slightly.

You decide to take pity on the boy. Grinning slightly, you extend your hand across the buckets of flowers in between you both, “It’s nice to meet you, Jungkook. I’m (y/n), and I really like working with my hands full-time.”

Grabbing your hand in his, Jungkook returns your grin. “(Y/n),” He mutters almost absentmindedly as he keeps pumping your intertwined hands up and down. You don’t have it in you to stop him, especially when he keeps looking at you like you just told him the secret to eternal life.

A throat clearing jolts you both from your reveries. Two teenage boys stand there awkwardly. One fiddles with one of the cut stems you discarded in a hurry earlier. 

“Oh,” You reluctantly pull your hand away from Jungkook’s warm embrace. “Talk to you later?” You shoot him a wry grin before turning back to your customers. You don’t see the death glare that Jungkook sends the two boys as you greet them warmly.

They request matching boutonnieres for their prom, and your heart swells as they both argue over which flowers they think would fit the other best. One suggests yellow roses, and you can’t hold yourself back from interjecting, “Oh no. Not yellow roses.” 

The two of them glance over at you, almost looking shocked to find that you are still there. “Why not?” The taller boy asks.

“They represent infidelity,” You say with a shrug, “But that’s just semantics. You don’t have to read that deep into it if you don’t want to.” Just because you follow the language of flowers closely does not mean that everyone and their mother did as well. 

The shorter boy practically throws the yellow rose back in its bucket. “What are you trying to say, Tae?” He shakes his head in mock disappointment at his partner, “I trusted you.”

“Shut up, Jiminie,” The boy you now know as Tae rolls his eyes and turns to you, “Do you have anything that means, like, the opposite of that?”

“Yes,” You smile at the pair and bustle over to the flowers you have in mind, “If I may make a few suggestions…”

Ten minutes later, the two boys shuffle away from your stall with matching cosmos (joy in love and life), baby’s breath (everlasting love), and ivy (fidelity) boutonnieres and with matching grins. You gaze wistfully at their interlocking hands and the quintessential picture of young love they represented. 

“You’re good at that,” Jungkook comments, fiddling with one of the earrings dangling from his quickly reddening ears. 

“Hm?” You question, your eyes still lingering on the cute couple you had just assisted.

“You’re good at showing people exactly what they want – even if they hadn't known it yet.”

His words capture your attention. You know he’s referring to the two teens that you had just helped, but you can’t help but wish he had been referring to himself. However, before you can even respond, it is his turn to get pulled away by a prospective customer.

The rest of the day flies by. This isn’t a surprise to you as the newness of the market always tends to draw waves of people on the opening day. You and Jungkook only get to exchange some shy glances and small smiles with each other.

That is, until your floral assistant Min Yoongi arrives. 

You have a running joke that Yoongi is simultaneously your best and your worst employee. He is your only employee after all and a headstrong one at that. You used to drag him along with you to the early hours of preparing and setting up for the market, but you have long since learned your lesson that Yoongi is decidedly not a morning person. You shudder at the mere thought of it. Now, you only ask that he arrives in the late afternoon to help you close down.

Yoongi greets you with a typical head nod and a half-hearted wave. “Hey, boss lady.” 

You shoot him a half-hearted glare, “Hello, worst employee of the month.”

The sound of a gasp draws your attention back to Jungkook’s booth where he is openly gaping at you with wide eyes. 

“Oh, Jungkook! It’s just a joke. He’s my only employee,” You laugh nervously as Yoongi gives you a side-eyed look that says ‘you’re acting weird, dude, and I don’t like it’. 

“Ah,” Jungkook beams at you, his eyes sparkling adorably, “I see, (y/n). For a second I thought you might be one of those people that gets off on being mean.”

Yoongi spits out the sip of coffee he had just taken. Jungkook turns bright red for the second time that day as he blinks in confusion, “What? What did I say?”

“Nothing!” You pinch Yoongi’s side in an attempt to shut him up, but that boy never listens to anyone but himself.

Walking the short distance to Jungkook, Yoongi lazily extends his hand over the barrier of flowers, “Min Yoongi.”

“Jeon Jungkook,” The boy grasps Yoongi’s hand firmly and squints at him quizzically. “Have we met before?”

Yoongi shrugs in a typical Yoongi fashion, “Dunno, maybe? You do look a little familiar.”

Suddenly, Jungkook drops Yoongi’s hand and snaps his fingers, “You were at last year’s Battle of the Bands! Your rap was legendary! I remember talking to Joon about it all night…”

The two boys quickly descend into a musically driven conversation, leaving you to slowly pack up your flowers and intermittently stare as Jungkook passionately talks about his main craft. 

After the fourth time you look over at the pair, you catch Yoongi’s eye. He’s staring at you with a maniacal glint in his eye. Oh no. He slowly looks back and forth between you and Jungkook. No, no, no. An ominous grinch-like grin grows on Yoongi’s lips as you can practically see the light bulb go off above his head. You are done for.

And not a second after Jungkook packs up his trinkets and bids you both goodbye for the day, Yoongi rounds on you. “FBI! Open up!” He mock-yells, cupping his hands around his mouth.

You splutter out an indignant laugh and shove him playfully, “He’s at least 21, Yoongs! You have to be in order to rent a booth here.” 

Yoongi continues to playfully tease you for the rest of the time you spend together loading the flowers into your truck and then unloading them at your shop. You only hope your crush is not as obvious to Jungkook as it is to Yoongi...

You and Jungkook spend the next two Sundays observing each other, exchanging small greetings, and chatting in between customers. Slowly, you begin to learn bits and pieces about Jungkook.

You learn he’s the lead singer in a band with his friends, he boxes to stay active, and he loves to eat. In turn, he discovers that you’re two years older than him, your life basically consists of flowers, and you read crappy romance novels in your limited spare time.

And as the weather warms even further, you find out that he has a plethora of tattoos winding up his arm. Though you tease him about his love of black clothing despite the soaring temperatures, you cannot help but admire the way his tanned skin glows against the dark color and makes the tattoos pop. You swear you glimpsed a flower inked on his forearm but you couldn���t be certain. Perhaps it had just been the combination of your growing crush and your overactive imagination.

The weather burns even hotter still when he begins to call you ‘noona’.

“(Y/n)-noona, what do you think of this necklace?”

“Noona! Let me carry that bucket for you. It looks heavy.”

“Do you want to go out with me sometime, noona?” 

Okay, that last one had just been wishful thinking; but, a girl can dream.

Meanwhile, Yoongi continues to poke fun at you and your growing infatuation. He had even arrived early for the first time in his career just to get in some extra roasting time. God, you wish Jungkook had some embarrassing friends to help ease the amount of times you had to physically turn away from the boy because you were blushing too hard.

And, finally, on the second Sunday in June, you get your wish.

“Ayo, JK!” A booming voice sounds from halfway down the long row of booths. A smattering of uproarious laughter follows the exclamation.  

The boy in question sighs before shooting you a helpless look. “My hyungs are visiting today. I love them, but they’re…” He trails off, “They’re a lot.” Jungkook steps out in front of his booth to get ready to greet them.

The shouting gets closer and closer until three boys break out of the throng of the crowd and approach Jungkook with large smiles. You blink in awe at the sight of them. Do all good looking people really flock together? You’re beginning to think so as you try your best to subtly check out Jungkook’s friends. The loudest one playfully greets Jungkook by throwing fake punches at him. He’s tall and lean with broad shoulders and a face that looks like it could make anyone give him anything if he so much as glances at them. He reminds you of white hyacinth (beauty) and lemon (zest). 

The tallest boy shakes his head fondly at Jungkook as he greets him through the other’s antics. You barely stifle a sigh as he grins and shows off the cutest set of dimples you’ve ever seen. He practically screams pear blossom (comfort) and polyanthus (confidence).

The last boy has a smile that makes you almost have to squint because of its sunshine-like radiance. He also has on the most colorful and fashionable outfit you’ve ever seen, and you can’t help but wonder if he’s had design experience. He is so white jasmine (amiability) and lupine (imagination), you think. 

Before you can assess further, you’re pulled away by a long-time customer. As you prune and arrange their requested flowers, you can’t help but notice that the stall next door has grown suspiciously quieter. 

Hushed whispers carry in the wind. 

“That’s your noona?” 

“Shut up, hyung!”

You hastily wrap the bouquet for your customer and bid her farewell with a smile. You barely have time to take a breath before three boys appear before you with a fourth scowling behind them in distaste. 

“So you’re the flower noona that Jungkook always brings up,” The sunshine boy speaks first, tilting his head as he peers down at you.

“The flower noona, huh?” You shoot Jungkook an amused glance, only to find him with his face buried in his hands, “Maybe I should rebrand.” You grin and introduce yourself to the three boys who you discover to be Seokjin, Namjoon and Hoseok.

Soon you find yourself wrapped in a conversation with Namjoon while Hoseok and Seokjin gather flowers to make their own bouquets. 

“Yes,” You nod your head at Namjoon’s question, “Some flowers do have multiple meanings. Take geraniums for example. The pretty pink oak-leaf geranium symbolizes true friendship, while the just as pretty scarlet geranium signifies stupidity.”

“And what does baby’s breath represent?” Hoseok crinkles his nose in distaste as he fiddles with the flower, “You smell bad?”

You crack up and open your mouth to answer, but Jungkook cuts you off. “No, Hobi-hyung, they represent everlasting love.”

Blinking at him, you nod, “Yes, that’s right. How did you know that?”

Jungkook mumbles something incoherent as he scuffles his heavy boot across the pavement.

“What?” You furrow your eyebrows, ears straining to pick up the decibels. Why is he speaking so softly?

“He knows because JK eavesdrops on you all the time, (y/n),” Seokjin lets out a squeaky laugh, “He also downloaded a flower app on his phone to study. I even caught him making flashcards—”

Jungkook jumps on Seokjin’s back, slapping a hand over the older boy’s mouth. Meanwhile, your heart feels like it’s about to burst into a whirlwind of lilac (first emotions of love). Good god, your feelings have leveled up.

Namjoon and Hoseok pay for both their flowers and Jin’s, as the older boy is still preoccupied fighting off an embarrassed Jungkook.

“It was really nice meeting you, (y/n),” Namjoon smiles at you.

“Yes!” Hoseok beams, “Also, please tell your friend Yoongi that we want to collab. Kookie is too shy to ask him.”

You promise that you will and wave goodbye to the two of them as they drag a breathless Jin along with them. The older boy shoots you a wink as he is pulled along into the crowd and disappears. 

“Sorry about them, noona,” Jungkook mumbles, looking down at his feet, “They like to embarrass me.”

You melt at his cuteness. “No, don’t apologize. Your friends are a whole lot of fun.” You can’t help but tease him, continuing, “And they were very informative... Do you really pay that close attention to me, Jungkook?”

“Aish!” Jungkook yelps, grabbing a bucket of red roses and hiding his face behind it. “Noona!” He whines, his large eyes peering at you over the red flowers, “You’re just as bad as them!”

“Oh, am I, Kookie?” You emphasize the new nickname of his that you just learned courtesy of Hoseok. 

“Did they tell you to call me that?” Jungkook sets down the bucket of roses and looks like he is about to take off in pursuit of his three hyungs.

You grab his arm to prevent him from doing so. It’s warm and solid, and the physical contact sends a tingle across your skin. “They didn’t tell me. I just noticed Hoseok called you that once. If it bothers you, I won’t call you that again.”

Jungkook relaxes. “No, you can call me Kookie,” He says in a small voice.

“Thank god,” You grin and squeeze his arm once before releasing it, “It’s so cute!”

His responding squeal of ‘noona!’ can be heard throughout the entire market.

The following Sunday, the market is cancelled due to the tropical storm swirling up the coast, bringing with it a disappointing blend of rain and an absence of Jungkook.

You probably should be concerned at how rapidly your feelings for the boy are developing, but you aren’t. How can anyone not love him? It’s impossible, in your opinion. Even your grump of an employee likes Jungkook, and Yoongi likes very few people. You aren’t even sure if you make the cut most days.

Sipping your peppermint tea, you gaze out at the rain and wonder if Jungkook misses you just as you’re missing him. Does he feel anything for you?

You know he at least equates you with his friends; but is that all he sees you as? If so, you would respect that, albeit disappointedly. With a sigh, you turn back to your copy of “The Art of Jewelry Making: An Introduction” and pretend just for the day that your feelings are reciprocated.

One week later, you are scrambling. Somehow you had managed to sleep through all five of your alarms, and now you are so, so late. 

Your truck’s tires squeal angrily as you whip into the first empty parking space you spot outside of the market. Where will you even set up today? You quickly grab your buckets of flowers as well as all the other supplies you’ll need. Will there even be a booth left for you?

You push your cart up the rows of booths and get more and more dejected at each turn. Finally, you decide to at least visit Jungkook before you dejectedly head back to your truck. You are in dire need of his sweet smile and positive energy.

The wheels of your cart bump and wobble over the uneven gravel. God, why couldn’t Min Yoongi be a morning person? You grumble as you wind the final corner to where your usual stall resides. You stop in your tracks.

Your usual booth… is empty? You blink multiple times in case this is just a beautiful mirage. Nope, it’s still open, it’s wooden tables bare. 

Almost as if he senses you, Jungkook practically runs out of his stall towards you. “Noona! You’re here!” And before you can even answer, he sweeps you into a tight hug.

“Hi, Kookie,” You sigh, bringing your arms around his neck. You can’t resist the urge to bury your face in his chest. He smells so nice, like fresh soap with a hint of heady musk. Reluctantly, you release him, realizing you’re both blocking most of the pathway. 

“I-I saved your booth for you,” Jungkook blushes and looks down at the ground. He shifts his weight from left to right and then glances up at you once more. “I hoped you were just running late. I didn't want to miss seeing you two Sundays in a row. You would not believe how many people I’ve had to fight off.”

Your heart swells at his words. “Aw, thank you, Kookie. You missed me that much, huh?” You reach up to ruffle his hair as you pass by him, lugging your cart along with you.

You miss the forlorn expression on his face as he gazes after you and mumbles, “Yes...so much.”

With Jungkook’s help, you manage to set up your booth in record time. You thank him profusely, but he just shrugs it off by saying that you would do the same for him. And you would.

Around midday you text Yoongi and ask him to bring food for Jungkook as an extra way of saying thank you.

Rather than respond with a normal yes or no, Yoongi just sends you a sea of smirking emojis. You should’ve known that Yoongi would (correctly) read too much into it. The boy is too smart for his own good.

Quickly sending back the gif of Hades from Hercules turning his flames from blue to orange in anger, you glance up to find Jungkook staring at you with a peculiar expression.

“Noona,” He begins, “Do you have a boyfriend?”

You choke out a laugh that sounds sad even to your ears. “No, I don’t. Why do you ask?”

Jungkook perks back up, “I just thought you might be arguing with them. You seemed to be angry texting.”

Letting out a more genuine laugh this time, you reply, “I’m just texting Yoongi, Kook. He’s being his usual difficult self.”

“Oh,” Jungkook grins, “Well then don’t punish him too harshly. It’s fun to see you all riled up.”

Punish? 

Riled up?

You blink rapidly at the boy who seems to have no idea how much his words affect you. Trying to brush off the images flowing through your mind, you decide to fight fire with fire – even if it had been unintentional arson.

You take a step towards him, “You like seeing me all riled up, Kookie?” 

“Uh-h, yes?” Jungkook eyes you warily as you continue to approach him. He even takes a step back, only to bump into his table of jewelry. 

You stand toe to toe with him as he is effectively trapped in between you and his table. Slowly, you rise to your tiptoes. Your lips brush his ear as you murmur, “Well, then I’ll be sure to stay cool and collected from now on.”

Pulling back, you saunter back over to your booth. Faintly, you hear a wheeze from the direction you’ve left Jungkook. You grin in success.

Yoongi had ended up bringing food with him that day. An action that had caused Jungkook to thank the two of you more times than you could count as he had shoved barbecue chicken into his mouth. 

You had stared at the boy with hearts in your eyes as he ate. Yoongi had just made whipping motions from beside you, thankfully out of Jungkook’s line of sight. 

And as June turns to July, your feelings grow substantially. Your mind is a meadow scattered with clove (I have loved you and you have not known it), cyclamen (timid hope), and gladiolus (you pierce my heart).

You can’t quite get a read on Jungkook. Every time you think there might be something in the way he interacts with you, he does something else that negates everything.

For example, the other day he had requested a bouquet of your favorite flowers. You had thought you might pass out from the way he looked at you, all blushing and shy. But, that might have just been the hundred degree weather.

It had admittedly been foolish to think that he would gift the bouquet back to you, but that’s just you – a fool in love. Your clown status had become even more confirmed when Jungkook had smiled down at the flowers, saying that his elderly neighbor would love them.

You had never thought you would experience being jealous of an elderly widow, but you had been ready to square up. It had decidedly not been your finest moment.

It isn’t until the middle of July that you begin to feel that Jungkook might actually return your feelings. 

The boy comes barreling into your stall as you’re setting up for the day. “Noona!” He grins happily, “I have a surprise for you!”

“Please tell me it’s a portable fan,” You moan, as you wipe the beads of sweat from your brow, “It’s so hot out here in these streets.”

“No,” Jungkook pouts adorably, “It’s not a fan. It’s my new collection! I spent all week working on it. I even brought my supplies to band practice. The hyungs all teased me, but it was worth it because of y— because of how good it turned out.”

Had he started to say because of you? Your heart pounds as you watch Jungkook eagerly tug a box out from his large backpack. He holds it out to you expectantly, and you have no choice but to take it from him.

Shooting him a speculative glance, you slowly open the lid. Your eyes widen at the sight before you. Rows of flower themed jewelry gleam up at you - orchid (refined beauty) necklaces, lotus (purity) earrings, and dahlia (dignity) charm bracelets. 

These are almost all of your favorite flowers. You blink up at Jungkook, “These are so beautiful, Kook. I want all of them. How are you so talented? It’s so unfair!” You reach down to grab a particularly gorgeous pair of silver hoop earrings with lotus charms dangling from the bottoms. 

“I will pay anything for these,” You look back up at him. He’s smiling widely and his cheeks are shaded pink.

“They’re yours,” Jungkook shakes his head, “There’s no charge if my noona wants to wear my jewelry.” 

His noona… 

You think your cheeks might fall off from smiling too hard. “Well,” You murmur, “If you insist.”

You hand Jungkook the box back, and quickly switch out your plain gold stud earrings for your new hoops. “How do they look?” You flick your ponytail behind you and turn this way and that in an attempt to model his work.

“Beautiful…” Jungkook sighs as he watches you and then straightens suddenly, “Oh, I almost forgot!” He digs around in his backpack for a second time. Pulling out a small black velvet drawstring bag, he once again extends his hand towards you with a gift.

“I made this specifically for you,” He doesn't blush outright this time, but you do note that his ears are bright red. Curiosity overtakes you. You slowly open the bag and pour its contents into your waiting palm.

A silver cuff falls into your hand. It’s about an inch wide with what seem to be persimmon flowers (bury me amid nature’s beauty) engraved on its surface.

“My favorite flower,” You gasp, immediately sliding the cuff onto your wrist, “You remembered!” 

“Of course I did,” Jungkook laughs, running a hand through his disheveled hair, “Do you- do you like it?”

“Do I like it?” You scoff, “Do I like it?” You take one large step towards him and basically tackle him in a hug. “I love it, you idiot.”

His hands rest on your waist as he sighs into your hair, “Good. That makes me so happy, noona.” 

Reluctantly, you pull away. “I should be angry because you completely upstaged me,” You crack a smile as Jungkook crinkles his nose in confusion, “But I can’t be mad when you give me presents.”

You tug your own little baggie from your tote bag and hand it to Jungkook. “It’s not even close to your level, but you inspired me to try to make something and…” You trail off as Jungkook holds up the bracelet you had carefully strung together for weeks. You basically only had bought expensive black stone beads and slid them onto a string, but you think it’s cute nonetheless.

“(Y/n)-noona,” Jungkook’s wide eyes flick up to stare at you, “You really made this for me?” 

“How many other JK’s do you know?” You say referring to the two little letter charms amidst the sea of black stones, “Yes, I made it for you.” 

“There’s John Krasinski!” He argues, sliding the bracelet onto his wrist with a smile.

You cannot roll your eyes hard enough, “You caught me. I couldn’t meet up with the Jim from The Office this month, so I just had to give this bracelet to the next JK I came across.”

“I knew it!” Jungkook laughs, “I guess we sort of have friendship bracelets now, huh?” 

You feel like you have just been slapped back into the friend-zone. “Oh,” You force out a chuckle, “Yes, I guess we do.” 

Clueless to your inner turmoil, Jungkook grins as he hurries away to set up his stall for the day. He prattles on about how excited he is to see how the new collection will sell, especially since he is set up right next to you and your flowers.

You feign normalcy as you reply that his collection will be a hit. And you’re right. As the day wears on, you watch as Jungkook sells more jewelry than you had ever seen him do before. You consistently feel like you’re in a state of whiplash as he keeps referring to you as his “muse” during his sales. 

Why are feelings so confusing? You fiddle with a stem of lavender (mistrust). You had honestly been beginning to think that Jungkook might return your affections, but now you aren’t so sure. Maybe next weekend you could try to get a better idea of his feelings? 

But, as it turns out, you wouldn’t have to...

It’s midway through the market that next Sunday that you begin to realize Jungkook is acting strange. He is acting more jittery than usual, and despite your constant questioning of if he is okay, Jungkook refuses to give you more than two word answers.

Eventually, you give up asking and instead begin to silently observe. He constantly toys with the bracelet you had given him last week. He rarely can go a minute without touching it, almost as if he is afraid it might disappear right off his wrist. Jungkook also keeps peering into his backpack and adjusting something inside of it. 

It isn’t until Jungkook checks his backpack for the third time in five minutes that you snap. “Okay, that’s it.” You stalk over to his booth, “Why are you acting weird today?” You stop in front of him, arms crossed in front of you. Jungkook’s throat bobs as he swallows nervously, “I-I don’t know what you’re talking about, noona.”

“Really,” You deadpan, “Then you won’t mind sharing with the class what riveting thing you have in your backpack?”

His eyes widen to the size of dinner plates, “How did you know there’s something in my backpack?”

You laugh, “You’re not exactly subtle, Kookie.” His shocked expression turns into a pout as you continue, “I’m just teasing. You don’t have to show me. I just wanted to make sure it wasn’t anything illegal.”

“Illegal?” Jungkook gasps, “Noona! Who do you think I am?”

“I don't know,” You shrug, “You could have a double identity for all I know.”

Mumbling something about infuriating women, Jungkook turns and tugs something out of his bag. Holding it behind his back, he faces you, “I was going to wait until the end of the day to do this, but I guess this is happening now.”

He takes in a shaky breath, “I know that I’m not the best with words. That I’m shy and inexperienced. But, I need to tell you how I feel, because I think I might lose myself completely if I don’t. So, I decided that I would tell you in the language you know well.”

Slowly, Jungkook moves his hands from behind his back to reveal a bouquet of flowers. “These say everything you need to know about what I feel for you.” His hand shakes slightly as he extends the flowers towards you. 

Your lungs refuse to work as your eyes cannot seem to look away from the flowers he offers you. 

Striped carnations. Those are what he holds out to you. You feel as if he has taken your heart and stomped on it with his massive boots. 

Striped carnations… symbolizing a love that cannot be shared. A gesture meaning that ‘he cannot be with you’. 

Rejection.

The first tear falls from your eyes as you force yourself to look up at the boy you’ve fallen in love with. How long has he known your feelings for him? Why has he strung you along so much only to hit you with this now? Or have you just been oblivious to his indifference all along? ‘

Jungkook seems to be panicking as he lowers the bouquet back to his side, “Noona, please say something.” 

You open and close your mouth, trying in vain to search for words to say, for questions to ask to help you make sense of this blindside. 

The only thing you can eventually muster up the strength to say is a shaky “I’m sorry. I’ll leave you alone.” You take off, barely stopping to grab your phone and your bag as you run to your truck. 

Behind you, you can hear Jungkook frantically shouting your name. He’s probably concerned that he has to monitor both your stall and his. You shake your head as you finally reach your car. 

You call Yoongi as soon as you turn out of the parking lot, unknowingly leaving a teary-eyed Jungkook in your wake. 

“What?” Yoongi groans when he finally picks up. 

You can barely breathe through your tears, “Y-Yoongi, can you swing by the market early to pack up?” 

The line is quiet for a second. Then, Yoongi rapidly fires questions at you, “What happened? What did he do? Where are you? Are you okay? Do I need to rough him up?” 

You let out a small laugh. At least one person seems to care for you. “I’m okay. Just a bit of an unexpected rejection.” You sniffle, “I’m heading home for the day.”

“Wait,” Yoongi sounds confused, “He rejected you? What the f—”

Cutting him off before he asks you to rehash every painful detail, you sigh, “Yes, he did. Now, please, can you go clean up the stall for me? And don’t say anything to him.”

Yoongi growls something that suspiciously sounds like “Oh, I’ll say something to him, alright”. But before you can voice your suspicions, he agrees and hangs up. 

Thank god for Min Yoongi.

The week passes slowly. You spend your days going through your usual motions, working in your shop and assisting customers.

However, after you make your sixth bouquet of marigold (grief), lichen (dejection) and cypress (mourning), Yoongi insists you take a few days off. You surprisingly listen. 

On Friday, Yoongi brings you a bunch of yarrow (cure for a broken heart) and nearly runs when you envelop him in a tight hug. He offers to handle the market this weekend, and you don’t have it in you to refuse. But, you only accept on the caveat that Yoongi takes Monday off. You don’t want to take advantage of your employee and your dear friend. 

Your weekend is spent by yourself. You stock up on cranberry juice in an attempt to pretend that it will have the same effect of its flower meaning (cure for heartache). Spoiler alert: it does not.

Even watching an exorbitant amount of bad Hallmark movies cannot cheer you up. And when Monday comes, you force yourself to try to be positive.

“It’s fine. This is fine. Totally fine. I’m fine.” You say, pointing at yourself in the mirror, “I’m totally cool. Cool, cool, cool, cool, cool.” With a firm nod, you head out.

Opening your shop is one of your favorite things. You revel in the solitude that the early hours bring, the first sips of your morning coffee, the feeling of being surrounded by your flowers.

Your flowers bring you peace – a big reason why persimmon flowers are your favorite. But, you can’t travel down that train of thought today. Nope. Today, you are all about self-love and positivity!

At least you are until 9:01am when your shop has barely been open for 60 seconds and Jungkook bursts through your doors.

The boy looks like a mess. His hair is sticking up in various places like he has run his hand through it too many times, his shirt looks like it’s on inside out, and he is staring at you like you’re a wild animal that might spook at any moment.

And he would not be wrong. You fight down the urge to run, choosing instead to head behind your counter so that there is at least a semblance of a divide between you.

You decide to just rip the bandaid off and attempt to be professional. Staring over his shoulder, you say, “Hello, welcome to Of Fern and Freesia. How can I help you?”

The sound of a stifled sob reaches your ears. Had that come from him? Or from you?

“Noona,” Jungkook finally pleads, his voice rough, “Can’t you at least look at me?”

Slowly, you bring your eyes to his. His large brown eyes search yours for a moment before they fill with determination.

“(Y/n)-noona, I know you’ve been avoiding me,” He approaches the counter, “But I need to know something. I have to or I’m going to lose my mind.”

Jungkook’s hands fall onto the countertop, his eyes blaze into yours, “Noona, is the thought of me loving you really so appalling that you can’t even stand to be around me? Is it really so terrible that we can’t even be friends?”

Your mind short circuits. “Are you making fun of me?” You whisper after a brief pause.

“What?” Jungkook cries, “No! Why would you even think that?”

Anger bursts to the surface as you throw his actions back in his face, “Maybe I think that because you openly rejected my feelings last weekend, Jungkook! Maybe I think that because I’ve stupidly been in love with you for weeks only to have you hand me those damned striped carnations!”  

Jungkook looks stricken, “I-I thought carnations meant love a-and fascination?”

Oh. My. Sweet. Baby. Jesus.

Your anger at what you thought was Jungkook’s rejection morphs into rage at the complete and utter idiocy of his misguided confession.

You shake your head at the giant idiot before you, “Yes, you absolute fool. The general meaning of carnations is love, distinction, and fascination. But, how did you not think for one second that meanings might change depending on the color and the type?”

He continues to gape at you as you power on. “Striped carnations symbolize rejection, you colossal moron! They mean that you cannot be with me! You basically slapped me and my love for you with a big, fat nope.”

You watch warily as Jungkook rounds the counter, coming towards you faster than you’d like. But, your mouth is on a roll now, and you can’t stop, “How could any respectable florist interpret that gesture any other way? Hey! What are you even doing? You can’t be back here—!”

Jungkook reaches you, cups your face in both hands, and slams his mouth onto yours. Your eyes widen as he continues to kiss you, and then slowly you begin to return his affections. Your hands slide up his back to twine through his hair.

The cutest whine emits from his throat as you tug on it slightly. “Noona,” He murmurs against your lips, his wide eyes stare into yours, “You really love me?”

You shoot him an exasperated look, “No, Jungkook, I go around kissing everyone who walks into my shop like this.”

He pouts, “So mean to me.” He tries to kiss you again, but you shift out of the way slightly so his lips meet your cheek.

“I reserve the right to be mean after spending an entire week wallowing in unnecessary self-pity following your failed attempt at a declaration of love.” You cock your head slightly, “If that’s even what it was?”

Jungkook blushes, “I really screwed up, huh?” He rests his forehead on yours and sighs, “It was supposed to be perfect. I was supposed to give you something meaningful to show how much I love you and pay attention to your work, but all I did was accidentally push you away. I thought you were rejecting me.”  

You press a soft kiss to his lips. “I could never reject you, Kookie. Not even after that.”

“God, I love you, noona,” Jungkook buries his face in your neck. “I missed you so much.”

“I love you, too,” You run your fingers through his hair, “But don’t think you’re getting off this easily.”

“Huh?” Jungkook pulls back, his eyes wide.

“You have a lot of making up to do, Kook,” You grin.

“And what do you suggest I do?” He smiles down at you, affection clear in his eyes.

“Well,” You shrug, “I can think of a few things…”

a/n: flower meanings taken from: The Language of Flowers by Vanessa Diffenbaugh (flower definitions may vary depending on the source!! this is just the reference that i chose because i love the book uwu)

✿ Flowers left undefined in the fic: 

Fern → sincerity

Freesia → lasting friendship

Peppermint → warmth of feeling

Tiger Flower → please love me* (*as defined by jk)

Tiger Lily → wealth

© luxekook. please do not repost, modify, edit or translate.

#bangtanscenerycollab #bangtanscenery #bangtanhq #ficswithluv #btswriterscollective #btswritingcafe #kwritersworldnet #bangtanarmynet #btsbookclub #btsnoonanet #goldenclosetnet #jungkook x reader #jjk x reader #jungkook fic #jungkook fluff #bts #bts fic #bts fanfic #bts fluff

[trashiewrites]

Promotion (Soap x Reader)

Word count: 2319

[Notes: I'm so happy to finally have finished this fic! I've been feeling on and off for a while. I hope you all enjoy this as much as I enjoyed writing it! Also sorry I have really basic grammar so grammar might be shit.]

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Night lurked over the head of the men and women of the camp. You found yourself looking up to the sky for no particular reason. The stars of tonight shined brightly, they seemed almost hypnotic. You were out of it to not hear someone come by behind you. "Sky beautiful tonight ain't it?" You jumped up at the sudden voice, knowing it was the captain "sorry, didn't mean to scare ya!"

"It's fine captain...." you lightly chucked as splashes of red-tinted your cheeks. You've had a small feeling for the Scottish man. You've been denying it till recently. He's your CO but you know... at least shoot your shot. "Would you like to join me, captain?"

"I would love too" he sat down close next to you. A lovely grin from ear to ear as he stared at the stars too. "What do you see or get reminded of when you see the stars?" You hummed, placing a finger upon your chin as you thought. For a split second, you glanced at the captain...

"Well..." your heart raced at the thought of putting the notation of you liking someone out there. In the end, you chicken out of it. " I see possibilities! What about you sir?"

"They remind me of someone I deeply love." He chuckled as his gaze faced downward. "They don't quite know it yet though..."

"Whoever it is, they should count themselves lucky, sir." You nudged his shoulder, attempting to keep your cool, "you're an amazing person after all!"

"You really think so?" Soap laughed as he rubbed the back of his neck. You nodded, giving him a reassuring smile. Though your chest showed this pang of jealousy. "Say... how about we head to the mess hall? Grab some dinner."

"Of course!" You yelped a tad too excitedly. Realizing that fact you tensed up and smiled nervously "um... Of course, captain..." the both of you stood and began to walk side to side. The walk itself was sweet and littered with small talk about anything. It could be training, people, or even gossip. Yet throughout the whole time you would glance over to the captain. Noticing small little details about him that made your heart slowly melt. His chiseled jaw, his deep blue eyes, the way he laughed and made others motivated. You loved every single thing about this man.

"I wonder what crap they'll give us today.." He held the tent's drapes open for you. "You first~" he mockingly bowed.

"Why thank you, captain!" You walk in after a small curtsy.

"You know you can call me John right? It's off-hours, so I don't mind." You paused in your tracks, processing the offer. You knew no one who ever called the Captain by his first. If anything you found the idea almost disrespectful to him.

"Are you sure sir?" You look at him with a look of pure confusion. He covered his mouth as a laugh leaked from it. Which by all means makes you even more confused.

"Yes, I'm sure. But just on off-hours, ya hear?" He smiled, lightly pushing your shoulder as he walked past you.

"Y-yes, sir!" You both went up getting your MREs. On the side, they had a package of tea bags, the water next to it respectfully. As well there is a brewer with a sign that reads coffee. You, being much more a tea person, gladly took a plastic cup and had your cup. John, on the other hand, had pure black coffee. As you sat down facing each other you could help but notice the stars in his eyes as he glanced at the coffee. If anything it was drop-dead adorable. As you both waited for the MREs to prepare themselves you decided to push what john told you earlier. "So John..." you coughed, hoping to release some on the nerves. He hummed back glancing down at you as he sipped his cup of dirty beans.

"Something on your mind (y/n)?"

"About that person, you talked about earlier. It-the one you love, can I ask more about them?" You glanced down, waiting to get scolded that it wasn't your place to know.

"Sure!"

"Sir, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have asked it definitely isn't-" you headshot to look at John as you realized the words that exited his mouth. "W-wait... really?"

"I mean, why not?" He smiled ever so innocently, "do you not want to know anymore?"

"It's not that... I just thought that's not really my place." You flash him a nervous smile as well a shrug of your shoulders. "But go on!" Your tone was almost eager, your heart yearned to hear this.

"Well.. she's a beautiful lass. Very strong-willed and kind." His face began to soften, you assume at the thought of the girl. "She just splendid to be around. She's smart, witty, and exceptional clueless..." he chuckled, facing off to the side.

"Do I know her?" You took a bit of your MRE. Which, by the way, was still piping hot. "Hot hot hot!!" You lightly banged the table as you swallowed through the pain. John smiled as he placed a hand upon his chin, pondering the question.

"I suppose you do, they are on the team." This caught you by surprise. You knew this person, and you trained with this person. The thought plagued your mind. Unaware of it, you were eerily silent as a checklist played through your head. John coughed, having taken bites from his meal, "look, you don't have to look further into it but if you do find out, I'll give you a promotion of sorts."

"A promotion? For something like this?"

"You'll see.." John smiled as he took his final bite. "Now I best be off, good luck." He stood, walking away from the table. Leaving you staring into the distance, dumbfounded. As you finished you knew that the other boys were up much later. Roach, for example, the man stays up all the time. Speed walking over to the barracks to see Roach outside on his phone.

"Gary! I have to ask you something!" He looked up and smiled sweetly.

"Sure! What could you need this late though?"

"Apparently the captain like one of the girls, do you have any idea who?" You spoke quietly as to not draw anyone else's attention. Roach was baffled at first at the weird question. Yet that baffled face soon became one that reads 'you can't be serious'.

"You are blind..."

"What do you mean?" You began to think it should be an obvious answer. But there are plenty of women as John described.

"Look... I don't know the captain personally enough to know for sure. But it's been kinda obvious for a while." Roach chuckled as his eyes returned to his phone, "I don't even think I have the balls to tell ya. How 'bout ask the lieutenant? He knows the captain like the back of his hand."

"Lieutenant Riley? Ghost? Do you know how weird that is? At least me and you, ya know, we are the same rank." You clutched your fist together, chills running down your spine at the thought.

"If I tell you, you probably, no, you WILL go ask the lieutenant anyways."

"Just tell me, Sanderson!" You grabbed the man, who is taller than you, by the collar of his shirt.

"It's you dumbass!" You stood there in silence. Some say your soul exited your body for a minute. Roach slowly moved your hands off his collar. "(Y/n)??"

"You're joking..." Roach shook his head. "Where is the lieutenant?"

"In the living quarter last I checked." Roach meekly voiced out, scared to once again get his collar grabbed. You walked in to see the lieutenant relaxing in the lounge area, his head in a newspaper. You quietly made your way over, as well as thinking of what the hell you would ask him. You found it painfully awkward to ask if your CO has a crush on you.

"You need something (y/n)?" He lowered his newspaper ever so slightly, his brown eyes staring coldly at you.

"Uh... y-yes I-I have a... question." You stared right back to him, the heat on your cheeks making you uncomfortable as hell.  He chuckled as he took one last look at his paper, folding it neatly. You could help but think did he already know you were coming here? I mean it wouldn't be surprising, due to the confrontation with Roach.

"Well, go ahead then. Ask away."  His  voice  seemed to mock you, not rudely of course. But it's as if he was teasing you.

"W-well sir, earlier this evening the captain g-gave me a challenge to... to.." you coughed the lump of nervousness in your throat was suffocating. As you once again open your mouth to speak the rest of your statement, Riley's deep voice chimed in.

"He dared you to find out who's he's crushing on, ya?" Your heart sunk down to your stomach. Of course he already knew... you feel the heat on your cheeks.

"Y-yes, sir... gosh this is embarrassing." You faced the ground, glancing up periodically.

"Well I'm assuming you want me to tell you who?"

"W-well sir, I originally asked Roach and well..." you coughed, trying your hardest to grow some balls, "He said it was me. I was just wonder if it t-true."

"I'll tell you two things alright?" You nodded as you took a seat across from him "one, he does. It's been quite obvious for a while. Two, he never shuts the fuck up about you.. god it comes to the point I hate being in a room alone with him."

"O-oh I-I"

"Just hurry up and get together already, that way he stops fucking going on about ya" you nodded did a 180 headed straight off.

"Y-Yes sir!!"

Just after, you sat at your bunk... you couldnt bring yourself to do it. Your mind was still processing it all in. Lieutenant Riley's word echoed in your ears. You yourself felt like you were floating, yet scared. "This must all be a dream, it too good to be true..." you pinched you arm, almost to the point of drawing blood. Eyes squint from the pain, and open to the same scenery as before. "What am I doing?" You stood and went to the mirror, slapping your cheeks. Squeezing your face together ever so slightly, "get yourself together (y/n), this could be the once chance!" You confidently went to the door. "Captain quarters are far... it shouldnt be difficult at all." You walked out briskly, closing the door quietly behind you.

You made steady pace to the captain quarters. You tried your hardest to keep your cool, you werent sure if it was working. Then again, it's rather late there really isnt many people around. You stood in front of the door. You have never been more scared of a door before.  You took a step forward, a deep breath, curling your hand to knock of the door. Before you could even knock the door opened and there stood the captain. "Oh (y/n), what got you out here so late at night?"

"I-I just N-needed..." your body shivered of nervousness, of course he would open the door right before you were ready!

"Look at you..." he spoke softly, grasping lightly at your shoulder. Placing another hand in the open air. "You're shivering like a you've been in the cold for awhile, come in." He slowly leads you in, even if you were at all cold (which you weren't) the heat from your face could probably keep you alive. You look up to him offering a cup of hot tea.

"Captain... I-im not cold..." you took the cup, taking in the aroma of the tea. "but I do appreciate the drink." It was calming actually.

"If you ain't cold, does that mean you're nervous? By what in god name has god cha nervous?" You place the tea upon the coffee table. You knew he was staring at you, yet you could stare back. Rubbing your arm shyly, a small cough to clear your throat. "Oh.... it's that challenge ain't it?"

You nodded, slowly lifting your head to see him. His expression was almost eager, perhaps hopeful? He held his own hands, twiddling with his own thumb. "C-Captain..."

"Please... Call me John." It was almost as he was begging just like a puppy. It took you by surprise but it's what you could atleast do.

"Okay, John," you chuckled. Cracking a small little smirk, butterflies already flying everywhere within you. "I-I like you too, I have for a while. Gosh, saying "like" is just an understatement. I've loved you for a while." You exhaled deeply, the weight in your chest seemingly lifted. John stood, sitting next to you. Wrapping you into a tight embrace.

"Congrats, (y/n). Are you ready for that promotion?" He spoke softly into your ear. Hunger, yearning plagued the tones of his voice.

"J-John what exactly is this promotion?" You moved his head back, cupping his cheeks. He smirked devilishly, slowly moving to cover your own cheeks.

"Well, of course. You're gonna be promoted to my girlfriend~" as he finished his sentence in a deep husky voice. He planted his lips upon yours, holding you close. It was heavenly, you didnt want it to end. His taste was hypnotic, sweet, hungry and full of passion and love. Time seemed to slow down and you couldnt care. Yet reality hit back always too soon. You two separate panting, staring longingly into eachothers eyes. "G-God I waited so long to do that..."

You panted quietly, holding your hand to his cheek. You sat and admired this moment, this moment will never happen again. "Well... I hope the wait was worth it." You laughed, pulling his head closer. Gifting him a small peck upon his nose.

"Oh definitely princess, definitely."

#my scottish hubby #soap mactavish #john soap mactavish #call of duty modern warfare #cod #captain Mactavish #gary roach sanderson #simon ghost riley #simon riley #call of duty #fanfiction #fluffy

[seacottons]

Silent Song of the Sea

Yeosang’s lured and drowned many humans in the sea with his captivating voice. Fortunately, Wooyoung was deaf.

pairings: yeosang x wooyoung, san x reader

wc: 24k+

genre: siren!au, medieval times, royalty!au

warnings: supernatural beings, disabilities, language, blood, angst, gore, fluff, graphic violence, minor character death, domestic abuse, mental abuse, verbal abuse, implications of suicide, emotional trauma, mental health issues, unprotected sex, crazy reader(?), shiny yeosang

there was a problem with the html, so i had to reupload this. : (

You were twelve years of age when news broke out in your town of a boy who washed up on shore, along with a broken and tattered rescue boat. Chowing down on your breakfast in the dining hall amongst the other orphans, you overheard a few of the workers speaking about the young boy who spent days in the hospital, the town wondering where he came from. It was later that afternoon, when you were huddled with the rest of the other children in the yard that the director bought the young boy to introduce him to everyone. You struggled to peek from the taller children to catch a glimpse of the male, but you were shoved back slightly, the boys in front of you sneering, “Watch it, pipsqueak.”

Wooyoung was twelve years of age when he witnessed a young, tiny, frail child squabbling with a pair of boys. Gasps broke out within the group of children as a fist flew, followed by the crying of one of the young children. Wooyoung’s curious eyes never left your form as you were forcibly dragged inside by your ear, your fist smeared with the boy’s blood. You appeared to be shouting and stomping your feet in retaliation as you were dragged into the housing facility.

It was later that week when you were walking down the hall back to the children’s living space, when you noticed a group of four children surrounding the new kid, who huddled against the wall, beads of tears pooling in his eyes. “Why don’t you talk!” the tallest of the bunch growls in frustration, “You’re no fun at all!”

“Maybe he’s just stupid?” another girl quips, flicking her forefinger against Wooyoung’s forehead, sending the four into a pit of laughter and teasing. A wet squelch broke the train of laughter, and Wooyoung’s jaw dropped at the sight of the opened closet, brooms scattered onto the tiled floor, and you thrusting the wet, dripping mop into one of the children’s faces. Chaos ensued; a squeal of protest from one of the girls, loud footsteps, and bickering filled your ears. “(Y/n)! What do you think you’re doing!?” a worker tugged the mop out of your grasp, tugging you up with an arm securely fastened onto your tummy. You twisted in her hold, palms jutting out against her jaw in protest as you struggled to escape her grip.

“They were bullying Wooyoung!” you cried, and the four kids could only cower and deny your claims, their eyes flashing with fear, “Yes, you were! He’s crying! You said he was stupid!”

The worker stilled, and her eyes narrowed at the four children. A sigh escaped her as she settled you down, a stern expression painting her features, “For once, I think I’ll let you go. As for you four, to the director’s office. Now.” 

You laughed smugly at the sight of the four trudging begrudgingly behind the woman, and you gasped in realization when you remembered the young boy. When your head snapped in his direction, he flinched, eyes wary and hands hurriedly reaching up to wipe his tears away. 

“Y’know, you should really learn how to fight back,” you started, “They deserve a broken tooth or two.” He stared back at you, eyes flickering nervously as he fidgeted in place. You frowned, trying again, “Are you scared of them?  I mean, Minjae is ugly— I would be scared of him too.” The boy’s gaze  mirrored that of the gaping fish that stared at you from their tank in the director’s office. 

You quirked a brow, arms crossing in front of your chest, “Okay. You don’t have to fight. I’ll fight for you. Just say my name, and I’ll be there. I’m (y/n).” Wooyoung’s hesitant hands reached up point two fingers at you, and he shook his head while cupping his hands around the shells of his ears. Suddenly, you understood, face leaning uncomfortably close to his as your jaw dropped, “You can’t hear me!?” You understood when his hands made a motion, your brows raising up in curiosity, “Oh, you use sign language? I don’t really know that. I can draw for you, though. Come on, I’ll show you!”

You were permitted to walk around town for a few hours every day before dinner, and the first place you wanted to visit was the library, much to Wooyoung’s confusion, “My friend, San, owns this library! I mean- his mom, but I’m pretty sure they have a sign language book here we can borrow! San taught me how to write and read, y’know. Maybe we can find a book on how to find your memories too! Oh- wait.. I forgot, sorry. You can’t hear me,” You attempted to use hand signals to display your words, but Wooyoung only chuckled at your failed attempt. You swiftly pulled out your tattered sketchbook, and after a few messy, stick figure drawings, he nodded in acknowledgment. You were met with the sight of San helping his mother place a few books in the high shelves of the library, you bellowed out his name loudly, startling both him and his mother. The woman only giggled underneath her breath whilst her son was quick to shush you with a stern glare, “(Y/n)! You’re in a library!” His gaze suddenly drifted the boy behind you, who wore a similar outfit to your own, freezing immediately and grumbling lowly, “Why are you with one of the orphan boys? I thought you said they’re all gross?” His mother scolded him quietly for the choice of his words, and sent her a pout in return, “Stop embarrassing me in front of my friend!”

You quickly explained to both of them Wooyoung’s lack of memories and situation, and and how you insisted on learning sign language to communicate with him, not noticing San’s eyes narrowing in on the nervous lavender haired boy. San’s mother nodded, smiling and reaching over to ruffle your hair. You caught a glimpse of purple and blue marks underneath the sleeve of her shirt as she told you to wait while she searched for the books you needed. A faint speck of purple was also seen on San’s tummy as he reached up to gently push a book back in place.

“We’re not partners in crime anymore if you’re going to replace me,” San grumbled, fingers idly tracing the spines of the books to his right. “He’s not replacing you, dummy,” you cried defensively, tugging Wooyoung by the wrist and startling him, “He’s going to join us. We can even let him in on our secret.”

San’s eyes rounded comically, before they narrowed, finger jutting out in accusation, “You wouldn’t. We agreed it’ll just be us two taking over the world.” “But he probably wants to go on adventures too,” you offered, “Please? We’ll be like the three muskrats!”

“I’m not letting anyone join our pirate club, no,” he crossed his arms, voice firm and head tilting to the side in protest, “And it’s musketeers, not muskrats, you bum.”

San’s mother returned with a stack of books for you, explaining everything you needed to know. She tugged on your cheek, laughing brightly at the sound of your protest as you shyly swatted it away, “It’s very mature and thoughtful of you for doing this, (y/n). You can come here every day to practice with San. He’ll make time to learn with you.”

“Learn? I never agreed to have extra lessons!” It was later that week that the town of Aurora held a coming-of-age ceremony for the young prince on a Friday night. He was a few years older than you, and you’ve caught glimpses of him every so often when you hung out with San in town. 

Wooyoung, San, and you dressed appropriately, with your town’s traditional garbs. Mrs. Choi, bless her soul, took the three of you shopping beforehand, explaining how today was a very important day for the town and the royal family. San appeared miffed at his slicked back hair, and Wooyoung appeared to enjoy to the texture of the garments as his hands wouldn’t stop rubbing the silky, colorful material, fingers tracing the numerous embroidered floral patterns on the cuffs of his sleeves.

Mrs. Choi left the three of you to walk about, only if you promised you wouldn’t get into trouble. With a bag of silver coins, you three tromped between the crowds, visiting different booths to ogle at the treats displayed. The town was illuminated with an array of colorful lights hung from building to building. Signs and images of the young prince were displayed on every wall, pole, and building. As you munched on your roasted corn, guards of the royal family barked at the crowd to make space for the carriages and other matching guards to pass through. San tugged your sleeve and pointed to the golden palanquin held by four, large guards, the maroon velvet curtains tied to the corners, exposing the young boy sitting peacefully inside. He smiled at the crowd, turning left and right to wave as the guards marched in between the two parallel lines of people.

Whilst San was attempting to remember the hand signs to explain to Wooyoung was happening, you squinted, standing up on your tip-toes to have a better look at the prince. You clambered up on a wooden box, smiling in satisfaction at the better view, before peeking down at the two boys, “Why is the prince wearing such an ugly coat? It looks weird.”

“Watch your mouth, kid.” “That coat is the skin of a siren. It is a symbol of honor and bravery, brat.”

San paled at the harsh words, glancing nervously at the glares of the nearby townspeople, before swatting at your calf with a harsh whisper, “Moron, you can’t say things like that about the royals in public! That coat is tradition for the royal family!” Rolling your eyes at his exasperated tone, you offered a hand to Wooyoung, motioning him to stand with you to get a better view of the all the action. San attempted to follow suit, huffing in anger when he found no space for him to stand. Reaching for the pole beside him, he swiftly shimmied himself up, silently thanking the swordsmanship classes he was forced to partake in.

The prince’s eyes examined almost every face in the crowd. He met yours, and despite hating his attire, you couldn’t help but blush at the piercing gaze. You could’ve sworn his eyes widened at the boy beside you, but you didn’t have time to ponder as Wooyoung signed for you that he was hungry. You paused, eyes squinting in thought, before recognition flashed in your mind.

You nodded, pointing to his belly, to which he nodded in agreement. You dragged a reluctant San and a happy Wooyoung through the crowd, unaware of a pair of eyes lingering on your three forms.

Two months later, San began finally warming up to Wooyoung, much to your pleasure. To finally welcome the newest addition to your ‘Pirate Adventure Club’, he presented three twine bracelets, all with one cowrie shell intertwined in the middle,”Pirates give these to their friends, so they’ll never be apart no matter what.” “I don’t remember that in the pirate guidebook,” you mumbled, blinking at the boy.

“I made it up,” he grumbled bashfully, helping Wooyoung tie the twine on his wrist, “Don’t tell Wooyoung I said that, or else he won’t think I’m cool anymore.”

At fifteen years of age, both San and yourself became proficient at sign language, so much so that sometimes you would often find yourself teasing him with foul signs rather than doing so verbally. He would shove you away, red ears and furrowed brows as Wooyoung laughed beside him, “Stop polluting Wooyoung’s head with that nonsense!”

The three of you became infamous in town. The Troublesome Trio.

When San first informed you about the given title, you cackled, asking who in their right mind came up with that ridiculous name. He shrugged as the three of you walked within the town’s square, Wooyoung quietly observing the pigeons huddled near the center fountain, “You're the one who always picks fights, and Wooyoung and I have to always save your ass, so maybe that’s why.”

San insisted on paying a visit to one of the small antique shops in town, promising to find rare trinkets owned by pirates that washed up on Aurora’s shores. The town was still bustling even in the evening, young kids chasing each other around the neighborhood alleys, vendors charming passersby with their pristinely washed produce, mountains of different colored spices, dry fruits and nuts. Other merchants were determined to attract arrays of customers by displaying the colorful, locally caught fish, eel, and crustaceans on beds of ice. Cats sat idle in every corner, their big eyes fixated on the fresh fish.

 Dry herbs hung from many of the tea shops, and vibrant fabrics blew gently with the soft breeze from the textile shops. A young man carried around baskets of fresh bottled milk, whilst another prepared slabs of butter and goat cheese for the market-goers, charming the people past with his smiles and beautiful notes, the seagulls crying overhead joining in the melody.

“Hey, guys. Look! Isn’t that Pipsqueak and Stupid?”

You furrowed your brows, lips pursing in an attempt to bottle your anger. You knew that obnoxious voice anywhere, and it was a surprise that a boy with a disgusting attitude like him found a home with a willing family. You hoped it was the last you would see him three years ago, but there he was, sitting on a barrel, legs spread and a cocky smirk on his face as he pointed to you, along with two others you recognized from the orphanage. You can tell from the way San’s shoulders stiffened that he intact did hear, eyes still glued ahead of him as he led the way to the merchant’s shop. “Hey! Is your boyfriend still too stupid to attend school?” Sometimes, you were grateful that Wooyoung was deaf, because you knew words like that would crush him. Despite lacking the sense of hearing, he picked up on skills much faster than San and yourself combined. San’s mother helped you learn math, and you quickly learned to hate it. Wooyoung, however excelled at such a pace that it left even San’s mother surprised. San also taught him techniques he learned during his swordsmanship classes, and now, not only were the two taller than you, but broader as well.

“I’m talking to you! Don’t ignore me!” A rock pelted against Wooyoung’s neck, startling him. San’s jaw dropped, his eyes widening in shock. Your eyes burned with disbelief at the sight of the smirking boy, who proudly adjusted his school uniform’s tie, silently bragging about how privileged he became after being adopted by one of the wealthier families in town.

Your hands grasped one of the thin wooden sticks of the fruit stalls beside you, the owner barking at you in protest, stuck behind the stand dealing with a few confused customers. San’s hands flew to grasp your elbow, a concerned Wooyoung gazing at you from behind him in confusion, “(Y/n)! Don't! He’s not worth it!” he insisted.

“Let me,” you spat, tugging your arm away and stomping towards the taller male, “I’ll stake him like the squealing pig he is.”

The three boys hunched over in laughter at your empty threat, nudging each other and surrounding you threateningly. Minjae threw his backpack to the side, hands reaching up to crack his knuckles, “I don’t hit kids, but since all you are is an angry demon no one wants, I don’t think anyone will mind me giving you a bruise or two. Maybe I should knock Stupid’s head too. He’ll probably start hearing afterwards, yeah?”

San protested, yelling out your name and sprinting to defend you, but before he was halfway across the cobblestone path, you threw the wooden stake aside, relying on your hands to pulverize the taller male in front of you. He tugged at your hair as you tackled him down, hands tugging at his tie, and aiming a punch at his nose, the sound of gravel crunching beneath your wrestling forms. The two of you rolled repeatedly on the cobblestones, feet kicking and fists flying, “You piece of shit, how dare you say those things about Wooyoung! I’ll rip out your tongue and feed it to the seagulls!”

Vendors and customers paused to watch the squabble, kids pointing and ushering their parents to see the commotion. You shoved Minjae onto one of the glass doors of a shop, the raised threshold clipping his ankle, leading to fall backwards into the glass. He growled, head snapping up to meet the eyes of his two friends, “Stop staring and help me out, cowards!”

Their faces grew pale at the sight behind the cracked glass doors, and after sharing a look, they nodded and hastily retreated. A look of disbelief washed over Minjae’s face, and your snicker only boiled his anger even further. With a growl, he tackled you down harshly onto the floor, your eyes widening at the sudden lunge. You didn’t even care at the taste of blood on your busted lip as you struck him in between the legs, eyes furious as you shoved him off, hands reaching up to wipe at your mouth,“Can’t handle a pipsqueak by yoursel—”

“What’s going on here?” Your eyes flickered to well polished shoes behind Minjae’s figure, traveling up to meet the eyes of the prince, crown shining in display, golden coat and pristine white leather sparkling underneath the golden hours of the evening. His face grew even more handsome since the last you’ve seen him, jaw becoming sharper, and eyes more mature. Behind him stood a taller male, hair as striking and vibrant as the crushed geranium flowers Mrs. Choi uses as rouge, “The Commander won’t be happy to hear about this, will he, Minjae?”

Minjae’s eyes widened in recognition, scrambling up to grab at his fallen backpack, his form tripping as he scurried off in fear. You stared at the gloved hand offered to you, and you gladly accepted it, the older male pulling you up onto your feet, “Ah, aren’t you that trio..”

His eyes trailed from your small stature to San and Wooyoung, his brown eyes lingering on the latter a bit longer. You dusted your attire, snorting at the sight of your panic stricken friends, “Yep. Just getting rid of rats on your streets, Hongjoong,” while not personally knowing the member of the royal family, you found comfort in the fact he wasn’t that much older than you and your friends. Surely, he’s just like other kids beneath the silk, leather, golden garments and dazzling jewelry.

The red-haired bodyguard, who didn’t seem that much older than you and your friends, glowered with piercing eyes at your smaller frame, disbelief clouding his eyes at the insolent behavior. 

San slapped his forehead, exasperation lacing his voice as he shouted in your ear, “He’s royalty! You can’t just call Prince Hongjoong by his name, (y/n)-”

Hongjoong lifted a palm, shaking his head, a gentle smile gracing his features, “That is quite alright. I don’t mind. Mingi here calls me Hongjoong, as well. It makes me feel.. ah, young, perhaps? Right, Mingi?” he swiveled his head slightly to eye the stoic guard.

“You’re not even that old, though,” you began, earning you a glare from both San and the prince’s bodyguard at your informal tone. Wooyoung awkwardly held onto your fallen hat, eyes trained on the prince’s mouth in order to attempt to read his lips.

“Ah, yes. You are correct,” Hongjoong simpered, white hair delicately styled and falling into his eyes as he spoke, “but when you have princely duties, it makes you forget that you are still so young.”

There was a hint of sorrow in his voice that you detected, one so subtle and faint like the salty smell of the ocean encasing your town. The smile he wore didn’t exactly reach his eyes, his lips stretching too wide for it to be out of genuine content. Your bloody lips parted, eyes wide as you spoke, softly this time, “You’re still a kid before you’re a prince. You should live a little and have fun every once in a while.”

He offered you a white handkerchief at the glimpse of blood dribbling down your chin, chuckling at the sight of your stunned and flushed expression at the sweet gesture, “You have a point, but maybe I will attempt something other than fighting.. rats in the street.”

His smile sent your face and neck flushing in embarrassment, and you were quick to wave him goodbye as he was pulled away by a few of his guards. Watching the carriage disappear, you failed to notice San glowering at you beside you as you ogled at the disappearing horses, “(Y/n), you can’t just keep picking fights like that. Must you always seek trouble?”

“He asked for it.”

‘(Y/n) is a bad influence. Don’t get any ideas, please,’ He signed to an amused looking Wooyoung.

‘Don’t worry, I won’t.

Your brows furrowed, watching the two exchange words silently, your arms crossing in annoyance.

‘Assholes.’

“(Y/n)!”

— At seventeen, the three of you came to conclusion just how cruel and dangerous the beings that lurked in the sea were. San had a rough night with his father again, and with his mother’s insistence, he joined you both to the beach to clear his mind of the suffocating negativity that filled his household. 

A large, canvas umbrella shielded the three of you from the blazing sun. Even from here, the sound of the town’s clock tower chiming, signaling noon, can be heard. San’s head rested on your lap, his straw hat covering his face as he dozed off to your fingers gently running through his dark locks. He was exhausted after hours of swimming and playing volleyball with other kids your age. Sand coated the skin between his toes and a small baby seagull occasionally circled around his legs, curiously eyeing the bag of chips you were sharing with Wooyoung.  

The other male sat to your right, attempting to sketch the shore and moss covered rocks that broke the waves’ paths. He absentmindedly sipped on a bottle of juice, brows furrowed in determined concentration, his back littered with specks of sand from being buried up to his neck by San.

Peering up from his half completed sketch, his eyes were drawn onto the tiny boats and hardy people paddle boarding yards away from shore, despite the occasional gusts of wind. The waves crashed loudly into the clusters of rocks, foam spraying high in the air with every roar of water. The blue waters of the ocean were so clear that often times children would run around chasing the languid fish that found themselves swimming past their feet near the shore. Pebbles and other tiny marine life can be spotted on the sandy bed, the webs of sunlight dancing on the surface. 

A sudden flash of a purple fin stopped him in his tracks, his eyes squinting to make out the form. Another turquoise tail fin breeched the surface, but just as quickly dove back into the water. The two paddle boarders paused, glancing curiously at the two heads that rose from the water. 

Wooyoung watched in confusion as the men dropped their paddles, jaws slackening and frames growing stiff, as if in a deep trance. It happened too fast for his mind to register clearly, but one second the men are standing on their boards, and the next they’re both diving in hastily. His eyes rounded, fingers losing their grip on his bottle, the pomegranate juice spilling onto his sketch, startling you. Before you asked, your head snapped to the direction of his gaze, but you wish you hadn’t.

“Is that a siren?” you heard out in the distance.

A blonde haired creature’s mouth suddenly clamped down onto the screaming man’s neck, angular teeth piercing the skin and severing veins and muscle as he threw his head back roughly, red flesh intact in his mouth. Red liquid glugs from the victim’s lips and the severed carotid, pumping red into the ocean. 

The screams were so shrill you swore they could curdle blood.

Claws pierce the man’s eye-sockets rupturing the globes with a sickening pop, the left eye dangling only by the stubborn, red optical nerve, leaving behind a bloody and empty pit. The siren’s unforgiving lashes met the victim’s face, sharp and jagged nails tearing the man’s visage and shredding his jaw.

Moments later, the creature dives into the water, turquoise tail flashing just before its disappearance. The corpse is suddenly tugged down with such intensity that the red seawater swashes roughly with a loud plop, sea foam being the only indication of movement. Feet away, his friend is met with the same fate. 

The tails breached the surface near a sailboat, the people in it suddenly halting their movements while listening to the sirens’ voices. Wooyoung didn’t need to hear the screams of the people swimming nearby. The wave of fear washing over everyone present at the beach was enough indication.

He gaped in horror, his eyes watching as the beach goers pulled frightened children out of the water, others frantically grabbing their belongings and rushing in hoards for safety, clouds of sand left in their wake. Sandpipers and seagulls flew amongst the crazed crowd, disturbed at the sudden chaos around them. 

San suddenly jerked awake at the sound of a loud siren ringing from one of the pop shacks at the beach. He sat up in surprise, hat falling into his lap, and hand clutching his chest in surprise.

“What happened!?”

That night, the King sent guards around town to announce the banishment of swimming and other ocean sports, threatening anyone who broke the law to be executed by enforced drowning. A team was sent to the beach to pick up the torn flesh and limbs of the victims that washed up on shore. It was a horrid sight, the stench of death prominent and wafting through even the smallest crevice of the town. 

The three of you paid a visit to the vigil honoring the five people killed that day, the images of the brutal deaths haunting both Wooyoung and yourself in your sleep. The two of you joined each other on the lower bunk, arms coiled around each other for a source of comfort no one else could provide you with. The once vibrant atmosphere of the bustling town was replaced with an eerily quiet one- one that was stained with an ugly shade of fear and melancholy. — You were eighteen years of age when were moved out from the orphanage to a facility that housed other orphans, agreeing to partake in labor to help provide for both yourself and the establishment. Wooyoung soon joined you, and as much as you wanted for him to be with a family of his own, you were still happy he stuck around with you. He felt like family. 

The two of you landed jobs aiding fishermen catch and deliver the locally caught fish to merchants and markets. You rolled the sleeves of poofy tunic up, fastened the tied cloth around your waist and winced at the sudden gust of wind that blew your wide-brimmed hat off your head in an instant. 

It was a typical day on the fishing trawler. You were miles away from the coast, Wooyoung and yourself aiding the fishermen haul fish into different compartments, picking out the other creatures that were caught along with the school of fish. A storm battered the ship, but not enough for the helmsman to steer the ship back to port, despite the crew’s growing concern. 

Wooyoung grasped your elbow as you slipped onto the deck, waves crashing against the sides of the vessel. You thanked him with a nod of acknowledgment, hand shakily grasping the railing, brown boots sliding with every sway of the boat. He pointed to the hatch, hoping you’ll understand his implications without the use of hand signs. He was clearly fed up with the lack of concern from the fishermen, urging you with his eyes to crawl inside for safety. 

You opened your mouth to word out a reply, when a sudden jerk to the left caused you both to lose your grip. Wooyoung’s hands stabilized himself against the deck, his face scrunched in pain at the impact of his fall, watching in horror as the vessel tilted dangerously, a wave impelling the sides and sweeping you away with it. His hand flew to grasp your foot, only managing to graze the bottom of your boot in the process.

He was quick on his feet to inform the closest person about you falling overboard. His hands desperately clutched the orange lifebuoy, throwing it to where he spotted your head bobbing within the harsh waves. 

You met his gaze, hands reaching to grab the ring, when you felt a clawed hand grasp your ankle. In the time it took you to knit your brows in confusion at the sensation, you suddenly gasped in realization, earning you only a few more milliseconds of air before you were swiftly plunged down into the raging ocean. You were welcomed with the deafening roar of your heartbeat in your ears and the burning sensation in your sinuses. Beams of sunlight occasionally shined within the raging waters before they disappeared behind the dark plumes of clouds.

You hadn’t properly prepared to take a deep breath, your mouth parting open in shock at the sight of a beautiful, black haired man. Your stunned eyes were suddenly drawn to his puckering gills and outstretched smile, showcasing rows of sharp, pointed teeth. The purple fins on his neck and forearms shimmered with every flap and movement. 

He appeared to laugh as he teasingly swam around your frame, circling and eyeing you like prey. The delighted smile on his visage stretched wide, resembling the evil creatures drawn in the folklore books you read as a child. His iridescent, violet tail and fins tickled the skin of your neck, and your lungs began burning with the lack of oxygen, the subtle sounds of waves crashing joining in with the loud drumming of your pulse.

“My, my,” he chuckled, dark hues locked on your panic stricken face, “I didn’t even have to sing to get you to come to me, little human.”

The two of you were suspended in a neutral state of buoyancy, clouds of marine life occasionally passing by. Your blood ran so cold that it felt more like being electrocuted than anything else. You had to get yourself out immediately, before the lack of oxygen kills you or before the siren rips you apart like ribbons.

One second he was eyeing you curiously, and the next you struggled to escape his hold, teeth snapping and threatening to bite your neck open, your frames swaying with the waves’ thrusts, even from below the surface. Your mind had no time to keep up with your body’s involuntary actions, your fingers digging harshly into the gaps of his gills and clawing desperately in an attempt to escape. 

Your movements weren’t as clean and swift as they would’ve been on land, but your frenzied mind paid no thought. He winced at the onslaught of scratches, pulling away to clutch at his neck in pain, giving you the briefest amount of time to swim up, your arms securely wrapping around the ring and shouting up with a desperate cry. Waves rocked your frame, the water sloshing harshly around you, and hope slowly trickled in as you felt the line tug upwards to safety.

 As soon as your legs surfaced the water, the same hand breached past the waves, long nails digging into the skin of your calf, before getting caught in the buckles of your brown boot, slipping it off with ease as the siren fell back into the water. Beady eyes glowered at you as you were hoisted up the ship.

Arms were wrapped around your frame as soon as you landed in a wet, bloody heap on deck, Wooyoung’s concerned face invading your vision. His eyes flew from your leg to your bleeding, bitten hand, and finally your face. From the raindrops pattering his skin you couldn’t tell if he was crying or not. He held you so tightly against his frame, fingers coiling into your wet locks, his chest heaving heavily in panic. Your widened eyes could only stare straight ahead, arms weakly tangling around his form.

Four years later and you were left with lumpy, jagged scars on your left leg and hand. There was no action taken against the fishermen that you worked for, though. You didn’t have the money or means to do anything, so Wooyoung and you decided it was best to change the tasks you were meant to complete. Delivering fish from the ports to the markets instead of helping the fishermen at sea was a much better and safer option.

The two of you fell into the same boring routine. You heard mockeries under people’s breaths regarding the two of you- how nobody wanted to adopt you due to your troublesome behavior, and Wooyoung due to the fact that he was deaf. You wanted to beat the nonsense out of the people who spoke ill of you, but you knew in doing so it would prove their point. Over the years, you have calmed down, though. Only slightly.

Grumbling to yourself, you trudged up the narrow cobblestone path, Wooyoung by your side. The two of you carried nets of freshly caught fish, ready to be displayed at the fish market. The streets were mostly empty, the orange rays of the sun filtering out the darkness as it ever so slowly broke past the horizon, golden beams shining onto the numerous white and seaglass-blue buildings. You passed the formal gardens, your eyes glued to the plumes of vibrant colors showcased behind the copper gates, wondering what it would feel like to have a picnic with your friends there. San will love it, his love for flowers inherited from his mother.

‘I’m going to smell like fish all day,’ You signed to Wooyoung, your posture and facial expression giving away your feelings even beforehand.  

His biceps flexed as he adjusted the bags in his grip, unable to reply back as his hands were full. His sleeveless shirt displayed his toned, tanned arms, leather pants fitting quite nicely on his form. You knew he was teasing you as he took larger and quicker strides, leaving you behind. You waddled your way after him, your protests quite literally falling on deaf ears. 

You traded the fish for a sachet of silver coins, making sure to count the amount before your departure from the seafood market. On your way back to the docks, you stopped to grab a loaf of freshly baked bread and tea, offering the taller male walking with you. Elderly women can be spotted hunching down to tend to their rice fields, wide brimmed hats shielding them from the rising sun.

 Children began walking down the streets, dressed in the typical blue and white school uniform. You occasionally wished that Wooyoung and yourself grew up with those privileges- only worrying about upcoming tests and what meal you’ll devour after coming back from school. Despite the tiring labor, Wooyoung and yourself at least had each other’s company to enjoy, and you were grateful to have him by your side every second.

Overall, the waters were quite safe since that incident that occurred five years ago. The fishermen treated you both very well, always slapping at Wooyoung’s broadened shoulders and biceps playfully. They often teased you about being in a relationship, but quickly learned the sibling dynamic between the two of you. Wooyoung’s nose always scrunched in distaste at the memory.  

It was noon and the two of you finally finished your daily fish delivery trips. You decided to pay San a visit at his family’s library, his nose immediately scrunching up while he greeted you at the front desk. 

‘Would it kill you two to go shower before you visit?‘ he signed in annoyance, fingers then clamping around his mouth and nose.

You attempted to hug him, and he hastily backed away in his seat, a book smacking you in the arm in retaliation, a strangled sound emitting from the back of his throat, “Stop, (y/n)!” 

“But I missed you, Sannie,” you frowned, pulling Wooyoung forward by the elbow, ‘Wooyoung wants a hug too.’

‘You won’t die if I don’t hug you,’ San shook his head, propping the frames on his nose a bit higher, giving you two a pointed look.

‘Yes we will,’ Wooyoung protested, a pout finding itself onto his features, earning him a glare from San as you cackled,’Are you ready for the competition later?’

‘More than ever. Too bad the brat can’t attend,’ Wooyoung snorted at the response, hastily covering his mouth as you gave him a swift, sharp look. It was no surprise that Wooyoung used his hard earned silver coins to enlist in San’s swordsmanship school, much to the other’s delight. Tonight was the end of the season’s competition, but to your dismay, you had errands to complete before the prince’s coronation tomorrow.

San was peeved at the idea of you not attending, but Wooyoung clearly saw the irritation being directed at the fact that you couldn’t attend because of the prince and not due to the errands you were forced to complete. He rolled his eyes whilst gazing at your mouths moving rapidly in a display of ongoing bickering. The two of you were so oblivious to each other, Wooyoung found it gross. Endearing, but gross.

Later that night, Wooyoung returned home to the housing facility, his nose scrunching up in delight as he proudly displayed his second place trophy in the air. Throwing your arms around his neck and shaking his frame excitedly, you laughed as he stumbled back from the sudden attack. 

‘I’m so, so proud of you!’

A smile found itself resting on his features as he tugged you close to return the gesture. 

He was beyond grateful to have someone that felt like family.

Wooyoung rubbed the small amount of rose water in his hands and brushed his fingers through your hair, giving it a gentle tussle. He adjusted the clips holding your hair in place, before eyeing your reflection in the mirror, throwing a thumbs up and proceeding to pinch your cheeks. Swatting his hands away in protest, you turned to examine yourself at a different angle,’Do you think purple suits me?’

‘Of course. Every color suits you.’

‘But do you think I look good in purple? Should I wear the blue one instead?’

‘I’m pretty sure San will love it. Two of his favorite-’

You furiously signed that you did not even bring San’s name into the conversation, and Wooyoung snickered at your flustered reaction. You hated how well he read you- how easily he read every feeling you attempted to bury and conceal. 

And you hated the fact that you had no confidence to confess your feelings in the first place.

The night of Prince Hongjoong’s coronation was much like the night of his coming-of-age celebration, only now Wooyoung and you were older— and being older meant partying harder.

Wooyoung watched you stumble into a pole, snickering and tugging you towards himself to stabilize your tipsy form. San shook his head as he walked back towards you with three sticks of fried pastry, his lips parting to scold you, “You're lightweight! You shouldn’t have drank so much, (y/n).”

Wooyoung has spent a good amount of time with the both of you, and after years of friendship, he often picked up on reading your lips as you two argued. He rubbed your shoulders in silent understanding, knowing fully well you downed that liquor in hopes of gaining confidence to actually look San in the eye and not have to deal with flushed ears and bickering to conceal your feelings. San in traditional garments was your utter weakness.

It had the opposite effect, really. You complained about his voice being too loud, and how the lights were too bright around you— how the smells of the street food were too strong. Wooyoung offered you a bottle of water, forcing you to down it all in one go in order to clear your mind a bit. He gave San a knowing smile as he watched from the sidelines, adam’s apple bobbing nervously at the sight of streaks of water cascading down from the corners of your lips and onto your neck, your clavicles glistening underneath all of the oil lamps illuminating the streets. Once catching the lavender haired male’s smirking gaze, the other silently scrunched his face in embarrassment, swiftly turning away to eye the closest confectionery shop.

Underneath the star-filled sky, the townspeople chatted amongst each other, many of them drunk and attempting to form dance circles in the town square. Many musicians filled the streets, the sweet and joyous melodies dancing in between every corner and alley of Aurora. A few women danced with delicate and sensual sways of their hips to the beats of darbuka drums and oud notes, hungry eyes watching their every move. The scent of tobacco and alcohol filled the air. An hour later, you felt better, mind clearing slightly. 

The smell of fresh pastries and milk custards wafted through the air, as you shared a large piece of cinnamon cake between the other two boys. Wooyoung stood up, informing you that he needed to buy water and possibly use the restroom. 

It was only when you were left alone with San, you suddenly felt like a small and helpless bug without Wooyoung’s presence and emotional support. You can face San on normal days, but when he’s dressed like this, hair slicked back, and the back of his ears and wrists shining with sandalwood oil-based perfume, your confidence crumbled into a mere speck of dust.

“You look pretty,” he started, voice quiet as his kohl lined eyes fixate on the cake between the two of you, “Purple suits you, you know?”

You scrambled to find a coherent reply, mind too frazzled at the sudden bold comment from the man across from you,. You needed to be casual, natural- needed to say something that won’t scare him off, or make you sound too desperate.

“You look hot when you spar.”

His eyes widened in surprise at your confession, jaw dropping in disbelief, cinnamon frosting and cake crumbs coating his cupid’s bow, and you suddenly wished you drank more of that nasty rum earlier.

Half an hour passed as the two of you awkwardly exchanged hints and implications of your feelings, when suddenly your brows furrowed, your frame rising up from your seat at the wooden table, “Okay, now I know for a fact that he’s lost. It’s been too long-”

“But he knows his way through town, (y/n). Besides, this is his favorite bakery— no way he’ll get lost,” San reassured, finger flicking the strand of hair that fell into his gaze. 

“I don’t know,” you sighed, hand running through your hair as you took a few steps away from the table, calling out back to him, “You stay here in case he comes back. I’ll go look for him, okay?”

After a nod of approval, you sauntered off among the sea of crowds searching for a mop of purple hair. You grew tired after half an hour of searching, even returning back to San in hopes that Wooyoung found his way back. When he saw dread fill your eyes at absence of the male, he stood up, cupping your your panic stricken face and telling you to calm down.

“You check the south, and I’ll check north, got it? We’ll meet at the same spot after half an hour,” he squeezed your shoulder and offered a small smile, “He’ll be okay. He’s Warrior Wooyoung after all. I trained him well.”

Fifteen minutes ticked by and you attempted to push down the heavy and negative thoughts invading your mind. This was not like back in the orphanage. Wooyoung was not the little, scared, helpless little boy. He was strong, brave, and—

You walked straight into a firm chest, hands reaching up to stabilize you as you stumbled back on your feet, head snapping up to apologize, “Ah, Pipsqueak. You’ve grown quite nicely since the last time I’ve seen you.”

Your eyes widened at the familiar voice, you hand immediately reaching up to swat at his arms, only for him to pull back defensively. Oh, how you hated the sight of his face and the sound of his voice. The gods must have loved Wooyoung for not granting him the sense of hearing, because you knew Minjae’s voice was disgusting enough to make anyone’s ear’s bleed. 

“Whoa- whoa! So hot-headed, still?” He laughed, eyes tracing every curve of your frame as he took a few steps back,”I see you’ve only psychically changed. But here,” he tapped his temple, broad shoulders on full display as he crossed arms,”You're still the same kid who was all bark and no bite.”

“I punched you, and you cried like a baby in front of the entire orphanage,” you stated matter-of-factly. 

The amusement in his eyes drifted away like the clouds blanketing the bright, full moon. You hated to admit it, but now that he was much, much taller than you, broader than you, and clearly stronger than you, it made you just a tiny bit anxious. You had no doubt that he’ll be able to manhandle you with just one hand, easily taking you down. A sneer met his features, “Ah, the day your idiot of a boyfriend was introduced to us, right? I heard you were also locked in the director’s closet as punishment.”

“Say that again, I dare you,” you spat back, mirroring his own sneer. He shrugged his shoulders, leaning back slightly against the wall beside him, as a snort of amusement escapes his  throat, “Why? Don’t like when I talk about him? Can’t believe Stupid grew up to beat me in second place,” he paused, as if contemplating his next words carefully, “It’ll be the last time, though. I can guarantee you that, love.”

Silence struck between the two of you.

You stared at his cocky smirk, his last words reverberating in your mind. His smile only broadened at the sight of horror and realization washing over your features. Suddenly, he found himself jerked down by the collar of his traditional garb, your hands itching to clobber that smile off his chiseled visage, “What did you do to him! Where is he!?”

He laughed at your attempt to intimidate him, gently prying your fists off of him as he patted the crown of your head in mock affection, “Don’t know. Maybe he’s partying, maybe he’s with San, or maybe..” he straightened his back, lips pursing whilst tapping his temple in thought, “..he’s being eaten alive by the sirens. Your guess, Sweetheart.”

You didn’t even realize you were already tripping on your feet to reach the docks in the southern part of town, Minjae’s amused laughter ringing behind you, your heart hammering in your chest as adrenaline surged through your veins. You pushed past drunkards, guards, adults, and hell- even children without a second glance or care in the world. There was no time to find San, the tears in your eyes flying into the air like tiny pearls as you flung yourself corner after corner between the blue and white buildings in a rush to reach the shore.

You will never forgive yourself if you didn’t find him alive. — Wooyoung was angered at his predicament. He should have known it was a trap, but he had a big heart, deciding to push his suspicions away when a lady asked him for help regarding her puppy at the beach. Well, at least that’s what he assumed when she pulled out a picture of a dog, pointing in the general direction of the harbor.

As soon as his suspicions surfaced, it was too late. She turned around so quickly, he had no time to react when she swung her heavy, straw bag onto his head, stumbling back and shielding his face. He was then ambushed by a group of men, who then proceeded to not only tie his wrists and ankles together, but also shove him in one of the smaller docked boats, working quickly to untie the thick ropes attaching it to the dock, allowing it to drift off yards away into the dark sea. 

Even during his delirious state, he didn’t fail to recognize one face in particular- the same face who glowered at him while he received the second place trophy yesterday night. Even with third place, Minjae still wasn’t satisfied, not when the kid he loved to pick on beat him at his own game, with much less training and practice. His ego was as easy to bruise as a banana.

With no paddle or oar, Wooyoung’s attempts to return back to shore with his bound hands were fruitless. As the boat drifted off even further, he flung his hands to grasp the edge of the jagged rocks, finger scraping against the barnacles and limpets that cracked underneath his steady grip. The blankets of green algae coating the rock causes his fingers to slip and slide, sharp points of the rocks and tiny mussels no help in aiding him whatsoever.

Panic and dread settled in his system, much to his displeasure. San taught him that a clear mind will do wonders when one in is in trouble, however looking at his situation now, it’s almost inevitable what will happen to him. He can barely make out the dock now, the glow of the town still visible from where he grasped onto the rocks for dear life, feet still bound in the boat. It was dark outside, people were busy with the coronation, and he couldn’t hear anything or anyone. 

The waves were strong and yet gentle at this distance, the boat rocking noisily against the large stones. The moon’s reflection in the water rippled, and a mop of blonde hair surfaced, startling Wooyoung suddenly. The being’s lips moved slowly, as if he were chanting calmly, eyes holding a mischievous fire within them. The man’s skin had an iridescent glow to it underneath the moonlight, specks of turquoise lining the sides of his neck and cheekbones. 

“Which human is stupid enough to take a swim at night during a full moon, hm?”

Pectoral fins on his neck flapped gently in the water, gill cavities visible from where Wooyoung stood. The being’s hair was reminiscent of the golden threads of the royal family garbs, and Wooyoung could only gape in sheer shock at the creature’s beauty. When he made no move to submerge himself in the water, the creature circled around the boat, brows furrowing in confusion. His lips moved rapidly now, shaping words Wooyoung had a difficult time deciphering, especially with such dim lighting.

From this distance, Wooyoung made out a large turquoise tail, which glimmered within the moonlight right below the surface of the water, and only then did he realize that the creature was the same one in the books he’s read about in San’s library as a child. However, this time, you weren’t there to fight the imaginary creatures on his behalf, and he was alone, stuck at sea along with said creature.The drawings did little to no justice in capturing the painful beauty of the beasts, though.

The siren’s lips parted, teeth so sharp like the daggers he trained with, anger now evident in his eyes as he swam much too close to Wooyoung’s comfort. “Why are you not abandoning your boat to come to me, you filthy human?” the creature sneered, jagged claws scraping at the edge of Wooyoung’s boat. 

Golden eyes widened as Wooyoung swatted the creature’s hands away in retaliation. The siren reeled back in surprise, shock enveloping his features as the human glowered down at him. Bounded hands or not, Wooyoung will not go down without a fight. If you were here, you would be proud, he thinks.

When the creature attempts to grasp the edge of the boat once more, tilting it down to capsize it, Wooyoung’s hands reach out to scrape long stripes onto the being’s arms, his scaly, slippery flesh cool to the touch. He made no attempt to smirk cockily at the shocked creature as it pulled back with a hiss. It still had the upper hand in this situation. Warily, the golden haired being swayed gently along with the waves, his eyes searching for an answer in the boy’s face. Turning hastily to eye the structure of the rock, Wooyoung contemplated trying to climb onto the high surface for safety despite his restraints. Maybe the morning sailors and fishermen will find him in the early hours of the morning.

“Ah, you’re quite boring,” he drawled in disgust, “I like them when they scream and cry.”

This is definitely a crazy one. Maybe Seonghwa will enjoy tearing him open instead.

Wooyoung startled at the noise that invaded his mind, frantically looking around for the source, only for his eyes to lock onto the back of the being’s head. Did he just hear? That was a voice, right? 

‘Are you talking about me?’

The creature was now far enough for the reflection of the moon to ripple between the two. 

‘Hey! Was that you speaking? How can I hear you?’

Wooyoung was certainly not expecting shock to wash over the being’s features, his lips parting in a silent gasp as he turned his head to gaze back at him over his scaly shoulder, golden orbs widening. Just who was this human?

‘How are you communicating with me telepathically? This is not possible,’ the creature made no move to swim closer, uncertainty in its eyes,’What kind of human are you, boy?’

Wooyoung didn’t know how to respond, the confusion in his eyes mirroring the creature’s,’I don’t know,’ his hands gripped the boulders roughly as a harsh wave rocked the boat. With desperate eyes, he pleaded to the creature,’Please help me reach back to shore.’

Wooyoung didn’t need to hear to know how amused the creature was at his words. Throwing his head back with laughter, golden strands glimmering with every movement,’A siren? Helping a human?’ he swam slowly to the purple haired male, golden orbs narrowing into a threatening glare as he spat his next words harshly,’I don’t help your kind. I find it much more amusing to rip you measly humans open by your throats, watching your life flash before your eyes as you choke on your blood, before you sink to the pits of the ocean where your pathetic wastes of bodies are gnawed on by sea creatures. You should’ve listened to the warnings in your bedtime stori-’

“Wooyoung!” 

The motion of the siren’s head snapping to the side bought Wooyoung’s attention up to that direction, eyes squinting to make out a figure struggling to make it past the onset of waves in a small coracle. Relief washed over him, his eyes widened in recognition, unable to wave his bound hands in fear of losing his grip of the rocks. 

“Oh, thank the heavens you’re—”

Knowing fully well he couldn’t hear you, you couldn’t help but shout in relief at the mere sight of his intact body. It was only when you noticed the head of blonde hair in the water that the oar nearly slipped out of your hands. In a desperate attempt to further the distance between Wooyoung and that damned siren, you were quick to whip your shoes in its direction, aiming for the creature’s head. 

“Get away from him!”

Wooyoung’s eyes widened at your actions, shaking his head frantically to get your attention,’Stop, you idiot!’ His face said it all, but you were too engrossed in yelling profanities at the creature, whose eyes flickered from the floating shoes and back to your heated face. When the siren’s lips curled back, sharp teeth glimmering in the moonlight to make his way to end your life, Wooyoung rushed to stop him, knowing fully well what will conclude if he didn’t,‘Stop! No! Don’t hurt, (y/n)! Please.’

‘One strange human after another. Give me one reason I shouldn’t snap this human roach’s neck this instant,’ the creature hissed underneath his breath, molten gold orbs furiously trained on your approaching figure. Wooyoung’s eyes frantically flickered back and forth from your outraged form and back to the crouching siren, whose face sunk in the water until he was eye level with the surface,’Well?’

‘(Y/n).. (y/n) is my lover?,’ Wooyoung threw in a white lie, wincing at the irrational thoughts he shared with the creature. Whether or not the creature knew he was lying, he hoped that was enough to deter him, even slightly. Golden eyes peered at him in faint curiosity, a scoff escaping the creature’s lips in bubbles, before he dipped himself fully underneath the water’s surface, swimming his way in your direction, ignoring the frantic thoughts of the purple haired male drilling in his mind.

You glared down at the creature underneath the water, whose amused eyes studied your seething form. You aimed the oar, plunging it down with a loud plop of the water. A laugh rang out behind you, and you found yourself suddenly tilting face first into the water. Your frantic swimming came to a halt when the creature circled around you beneath the surface, long turquoise tail curling around your frame in amusement. Beams of moonlight illuminated his iridescent face, which was mere inches away from your own, his lips stretching wide to reveal two rows of sharp, jagged teeth, golden strands dancing and framing his face beautifully. 

You refused to allow this fish to scare you– not like last time. It was that sudden impulse that prompted you to angrily tug at the fins on his neck, before you gripped his long, wavy locks back, fingers roughly digging into the gaps of his gills. 

If you had air, you would’ve laughed at the stupefied expression on his face, but before you made another move, his tail smacked you upside the head, taking you by surprise. He wriggled away from your grasp, swimming away and allowing the darkness of the ocean to engulf his figure. 

Breaking the surface of the ocean, you spotted a panic stricken Wooyoung, whose shoulders sagged in relief at the sight of your smiling face. You ignored the glare he sent you as you swam a few feet to retrieve the floating oar, before making your way over to his boat, struggling to climb in. You clung onto his dry form, hands cupping his face to examine it and his neck, looking for any sign of harm.

He struggled to sign words with his bound hands, his chin jutting in the general direction of the shore, silently asking you to start paddling. Golden hair and eyes broke the surface of the water yards behind the boat, watching you struggle to keep the boat steady and straight. ‘Visit me again, Human. You’ve intrigued me.’ Wooyoung’s head snapped back at the sound, but all he could make out was a ripple of the water. You found yourself hunched down, a jagged stone in hand as you attempted to slice through the hemp twine encasing Wooyoung’s limbs. The two of you walked to the nearby promenade, the low lighting of the lampposts around you not aiding your sight in the slightest. With the adrenaline now fading away, the reality of what just occurred finally began to sink in your frazzled mind. Your hands trembled as you sliced through, tears dropping in pearls onto the pavement. You were so, so close to losing the only person you called family. Was this the feeling of what having a family meant? The impending doom one feels when their loved one is in danger? You hated it. You loved Wooyoung, but you hated this foreign feeling. It was ugly and it tore you down from the inside out, disrupting your breathing pattern and train of thought. Off to the side, the gentle waters rocked the small dinghies and larger day boats nestled on the side of the promenade. The moon’s reflection was stunning against the calmer waters of this side of town. “Where have you been!?” San’s frantic cry snapped your attention from cutting the bonds around Wooyoung’s arms, and up to the confused, ebony haired male who hunched forward, clutching the wall to steady his breathing,”I checked the entire south shore! Minjae said Wooyoung-” “You best believe I’ll have him expelled from your school after the stunt he pulled,” you growled, finally tugging the last of the thick twine from the purple haired boy’s limbs, your hands still trembling with anger, before you hurled the stone against one of the smaller boats, the water rippling as it dropped down, “I’ll— I’ll kill him. I swear I’ll snap his neck in half- as soon as I get my hands on him I-.. I will squeeze his throat until he’s as blue as the ocean..” Wooyoung’s hands fisted around your lithe fingers, his arms pulling you into his chest tightly as you desperately gripped the back of his shirt, too afraid to let him go. San’s expression fell at the sight, his hands reaching to rub the both of your backs. ‘Are you okay?’ San pulled the other into a hug, hand cradling the other’s head tenderly. Wooyoung pulled away to nod, a silent storm forming in his brown hues, which you two failed to see past the anger and relief that washed upon reuniting with your friend. Later on, San happily visited you to inform you of Minjae’s expulsion from the swordsmanship program, the school stripping away all of the past medals he obtained. He was happy to have him gone and have you not behind bars for attempted murder. He refused to let you know where Minjae lives. — Peeling his eyes open, Wooyoung found himself submerged within the dark depths of the ocean. No marine life swam by, and strong beams of sunlight danced beneath the surface of the water. He kicked his legs and arms in an attempt to swim up to the surface. Strangely enough, he hadn’t felt the need for air. A few seconds before he breached the surface, a kind face hovered above the water, the person’s visage distorted with the moving water. A hand plunged down the water hastily, the pads of two fingers grazing his forehead ever so gently, before he found himself being dragged down to the ocean’s dark trenches by a strong force, his arm instinctively flinging up to try and reach the outstretched hand. He felt a scream slip past his lips as a clawed hand pierced through the flesh of his neck, dragging upwards towards his chin, the blood beginning to waft into the water around him. The manic laughter emitted from the creature practically curdled his blood, and his vision was suddenly overtaken by a set of teeth so sharp they resembled daggers. The creature’s jaws snapped so tightly around the junction of his nec— Wooyoung’s frame shot up suddenly. His chest heaved with rapid, heavy breaths, heart practically convulsing in his ribcage. Swallowing thickly, his wide, paranoid eyes scanned his environment, shoulders relaxing subtly as he took in the sight of the messy living space he shared with you. Beams of sunlight flickered through the curtains, birds chirping happily in the early hours of the morning. He heard your faint breathing from the bottom bunk, and he fluttered his eyes shut in relief. Throwing himself back, he gazed up at the chipped, stained ceiling, face and arms glistening with a sheen of sweat. The constant nightmares still will not hinder his decision to meet with the siren. He wanted answers. He needed answers. A month passed since the incident and Prince Hongjoong’s coronation, and you grew increasingly worried about Wooyoung. He appeared to be in his own world when hauling the nets of fish every morning, his eyes trained onto the ocean the entire time. The cries of seagulls could be heard as they dipped and soared overhead near the docked fishing trawlers. Your brows knitted in confusion as his gaze never left the vast expanse of the gentle waters, despite the most clouding the air. Just what was he searching for? You’ll study him a bit more before confronting him- that sounded like a good enough course of action Wooyoung also spent a ridiculous amount of time in the town’s library while he wasn’t training with San. While he loved reading with you and San when he was younger ( San and you took turns wither narrating or animatedly sign the words for him for a better experience in storytelling), he never really went out of his way to read on his own accord. He had shook his head when you asked if anything was bothering him. Even San couldn’t get him to reveal the cause of his sudden curiosity of the mythical sea creatures. You decided not to pry too much, instead focusing on completing more tasks to get an extra heap of silver coins before San’s birthday, silently promising yourself to buy him that golden cutlass sword he set his eyes on months ago. When Wooyoung wasn’t in either the library, or training, he sauntered off without informing anyone. You were worried at the sudden change of behavior, but after speaking with San, you came to realization that Wooyoung was an adult now, and he didn’t need supervision or protection like he once did as a child. You still couldn’t shake that gnawing feeling out of the pit of your stomach. ‘Is everything okay with you?’ you asked one day, book in your lap forgotten as you stared at him from your seat on the lower bunk bed. The smell of salt and sea lingered in your small space from the opened window in the back. He lifted his umber hues for the briefest second to watch you repeat the gestures before nodding with a half-hearted smile, turning back to his book on the small table in the corner of your one-room living quarters. Miffed at his lack of honesty, you crawled out of the space, book tossed aside as you roughly dragged the chair back to plop across from him, eyes searching his face for answers,’Where have you been going off to?’ Quirking a brow at your pushy and intrusive choice of words, he held himself back from rolling his eyes,’It’s nothing important. Don’t worry about it.’ He returned his gaze back to the book, lavender locks falling into his eyes. You swiftly snatched the book away from him, eyes scanning the page quickly before he practically jumps onto you, face contorted into disbelief and anger, his expression clearly asking you if you had lost your mind,’Why are you suddenly so interested in sirens? Why do you disappear for hours on end almost every single day?’ ‘I told you it’s nothing important. Go to sleep,’ anger was clearly evident on his features and his demeanor. He plopped down back into his seat, book concealing half of his face as his eyes flickered to you in frustration. ‘You’re trying to find that siren, aren’t you?’ He stilled, mind reeling at the accusation, before he snapped the heavy book shut with a loud slam, ignoring your existence completely as he made his way over to the ladder to reach his top bunk. You grabbed him by the back of the shirt, turning him around to point a finger in his face, relying on him to read your lips, the anger in your system seemingly unbearable, “Am I right!?” ‘Stop treating me like I’m your son. Goodnight, (y/n).’ He left no room for arguments, eyes void of any warmth at your nosy questions. You watched him crawl into his covers, his back facing you. Scoffing to yourself, you reached down to snuff the oil lamps, the sudden darkness of the room concealing the hurt expression that painted your features. Wooyoung didn’t bother exchanging words with you the next day during your fish deliveries. You glowered at his retreating figure as he just waved a goodbye. You thought it was best to ignore the brat, and instead focus on the errands left on your plate. The tasks you completed were mostly deliveries of goods, and cleaning the docks and beaches of the litter and waste the townspeople left behind. You grimaced as you picked up what appeared to be the remnants of a torn loincloth and a shattered bottle of rum, throwing it in the plastic bag you carried in your gloved hands. Turning swiftly back to the pile you created up the slope of the rocky area of the beach, a flash of purple froze you in your tracks. You blinked, but nothing was there. Furrowing your brows, you decided to investigate, just to make sure the sun hadn’t baked your brain and burned your eyes. Placing the parchment bag down to steady it against a sturdy rock, you padded your way towards the sea cave that the villagers always warned kids not to venture off into. The water reached your ankles as you hesitantly stepped into the quiet cave, beams of sunlight guiding you through the tunnel of rocks. You grimaced at the feeling of algae and barnacle on the wall, feet stepping cautiously onto the wet boulders. You turned a corner, eyes immediately catching sight of the opening on the top of the cave, which filtered strong beams of rays into the shallow, turquoise and blue waters of the cave. Not quite paying close attention to your footing, your ankle caught onto a chunk of seaweed, toes stubbing against a jagged stone. You yelped loudly, your voice echoing in the cave as you crashed into the waist deep water. Before the thought of getting up even crossed your mind, your eyes widened at the sight of the familiar siren, who bristled in front of you, the long, protruding rays on his frame flaring out in anger, claws and jagged teeth ready to rip you apart if it wasn’t the blur of purple that hovered above you with arms spread out in defense. A whistling hiss emitted from the creature as he peered at you from over Wooyoung’s shoulders, face contorted into a glare, “Wooyoung!? You—...” the pain from your fall was now buried underneath the rising anger that bubbled from within you. Pointing an accusing finger at the creature, you glared back, “You! I knew it! You seduced him! You’re trying to kill him, aren’t you?!” “How disgusting that you think I’ll reduce myself to seduce a human being of all things. I would much rather kiss a squid. I want nothing to do with you filthy pests.” You smacked Wooyoung’s calf in confusion, angrily signing at the sight of his embarrassed expression,’What are you doing here with a siren!?’ ‘Why were you following me?’ ‘I wasn’t! I was running an errand when I saw you come here! He seduced you. He sang for you, and you-‘ your hands just could not keep up with your racing thoughts. You opted to spit out your words, mostly for the siren to hear,“I’ll slice him like a trout and sell his flesh in the market- now move, Wooyoung,” you proceeded to step around the taller male, your bare hands clawing at the air as he tugged you back by the waist, the siren staring at you with a dull expression. “Crazy human,” he simpered at the sight of your frustration, “Your boyfriend can’t even hear me sing.” You kicked at the water at the smug expression of the siren, Wooyoung’s jaw dropping in disbelief, @He’s not my boyfriend, you putrid fish! If I find out you’ve hurt him in any way-” With a wave of his tail, you found yourself drenched from the head down. — Crossing your arms in anger, you leaned against the mossy wall of the cave, glaring holes into the siren’s head, as Wooyoung finished explaining everything, demeanor nervous and all as you rung your shirt for the third time to rid your attire of the seawater. Seagulls cawed around the roof of the cave, and small creatures climbed in between the cracks and crevices of the rocks surrounding you. Yeosang was leaning forward, arms crossed against a rock, chin tucked up onto his arms as his tail swished languidly in the water behind him. “Is it true that Wooyoung can speak to you telepathically?” you peered over the boy’s shoulder, quirking a brow at the bored siren, who was busy toying with a cluster of barnacle. He nodded, rolling his eyes as you asked for an explanation as to why that was possible. “Don’t know. Your lovely human friend here has been reading about it all month, and I can’t come up with anything rational either,” he threw himself back, eyes squinting as beams of sunlight flashed onto his face, “He’s been meeting me here to ask questions and learn about our kind. Curious little guy, but naive. It’s great that the runt has you following after him like a little sandpiper, or else I probably would have killed him that night.” He burst into a fit of mock laughter at your panicked expression, leaning back against a rock and crossing his arms over his chest, green, transparent gills dripping with seawater, “Kidding. I’ve never met a deaf human and a ..” he eyed you up and down, tongue gliding against his sharp teeth as he thought of a way to describe you, “Earth roach.” Wooyoung shot you a look as you attempted to grab a seashell to thwart it at the siren, “Why should we even trust you? You’ve killed too many humans. One of you attacked me too!” “You don’t have to trust me,” his tail fins swayed gently in the water as he threw a smirk your way,”Ah, so you’re that human that managed to escape from Seonghwa years ago? You left some ugly damage to his gills that day, y’know. Couldn’t sing for a week. He’ll be happy to know I found you.” “It’s against the law to interact with sirens anyway. I don’t want to see that bastard.” “Well, I guess I should call the King on you two for breaking the law? Or better yet, maybe I’ll tear you apart to see how you look from the inside. Red is my favorite color for a reason.” You rolled your eyes, tugging at Wooyoung’s elbow to get his attention. You urged him to go home with you and leave the siren be, but he wouldn’t budge, sitting down onto one of the dry rocks, hands grabbing at the forgotten book. You argued back and forth, exchanging glares of protest as he told you he’ll be fine. “He is a siren,” you cried, hands grasping his shoulders, face leaning in, “He will kill you!” ‘He would have killed me weeks ago, if he really wanted to,’ he defended, mirroring your own fierce glare. Twenty minutes ticked by, and you eventually gave up attempting to persuade him. Wooyoung was as stubborn as a rock. You decided it was best to just trust him, even if you did think he was insane for interacting with a siren like it was a friend. Like it was human. Like it had compassion and empathy. It was nothing but a blood-thirsty killer. His explanation just had no merit to it whatsoever. A month passed and Wooyoung wasn’t killed, so you assumed all was well. The last thing you expected was to see Wooyoung walk back into your complex, one late night, with disheveled hair and purple marking on his neck. The straw broom in your hands fell onto the floor with a loud clang, as you attempted to near him in suspicion. His hands hastily shot up to conceal the love-bites with the collar of his blouse, but your hands were quick to push them away. You glared into his eyes disapprovingly as his face flushed in embarrassment, “Please tell me it wasn’t him.” Anger suddenly washed his features as he read your lips. He pried your arms off, angrily shoving past you to reach the closet for a change of clothes. You rushed to stand in front him, arms crossed and features cold,’You can’t expect me to be okay with this. He’s a siren. You can’t love a siren. Don’t go see him again, please. You don’t know what you’re getting yourself into.’ ‘I’m not a baby. I can take care of myself,’ his gaze was cold. ‘I didn’t say you were, but I’m scared. What if he hurts you?’ ‘It’s because I’m deaf, isn’t it? You think the world is out to get me, and I’m not capable of handling anything by myself?’ You vehemently disagreed with his thoughts, but he left no more room for argument as he slammed the door to the bathroom shut, rattling the figurines on top of the wooden dresser you shared. The sound of the shower head was audible through the door as you furiously swept the remaining dust bunnies. This went on for about two more months The past two months have also been increasingly difficult for San and his mother at home. Your other friend grew somewhat distant and cold when you came to visit him at home. You didn’t need any explanation about his behavior. Mrs. Choi’s attempts at concealing the blooming blue and purple marks proved fruitless as she reached up to dust bookshelves, her shirt giving way to showcase the marks marring her skin. Her eyes seemed to always shine with a thin layer of tears, and her smile was forced half of the time.

San was aggressive whilst practicing and honing his swordsmanship skills, muscles burning in protest as he slashed at slabs of wood repeatedly, his cheeks rosy underneath the evening sun. Not even your arms tugging him away from the practice field sufficed in calming his raging nerves down, shouting at you to leave if you didn’t want to watch. There was a need to continuously grow stronger- you clearly saw it past his anger and frustration. He wanted, needed, to feel as if he had power over something. With a heavy heart, you nodded in acceptance, sitting off to the side to watch him burn himself out physically. He also partook in extra duels, so many that a limit had to be placed on how much he could take part in. During times like these, you realized being raised as an orphan was nothing compared to living with an abusive father. You only wished to stop feeling so helpless, wishing you could help carry the pain and exhaustion weighing San’s shoulders down.

One day, while the three of you sat together in a nearby cafe, he picked at his baked tart, eyes then darting from you quietly sipping your tea to Wooyoung who stuffed his mouth with a freshly baked croissant. The purple haired male wore a scarf around his neck, the sight of it only angering you slightly. San’s lips parted in hesitation, words dying in his throat as you glanced up at him curiously,”You okay?”

Wooyoung peered over at the ebony haired male, cheeks round with warm pastry and jam, his eyes blinking in confusion,‘Sorry, did you want a piece of my croissant?’

San snorted at the guilt ridden expression on the lavender haired male’s visage, an amused smile raking his features as he shook his head,’No. That’s fine,’ his hands hovered above his drink, lips pressed into a thin line, before he continued,’I realized I never thanked you two.’

‘Thanked us for what?’ 

‘I didn’t grow up having anyone to look up to. I only grew up knowing what I don’t want to be like. None of the children at school understood me, either. They often mocked my mother and I when they visited the library, sometimes smudging ink on their hands to resemble the bruises on her arms. They were evil, and for the longest time, I thought the entire world was as cold as they were. You two changed my entire perceptive of people, though. So, thank you. It’s years too late, but-,’ San’s bashful expression suddenly fell at the sight of the two pairs of glassy eyes,”Ah! What? Don’t even think about crying!”

—

Weeks later, and San had returned to somewhat of a healthier, emotional state of mind, spending most of his time either at the library with his mother, or training and dueling. Late nights walking on the beach also aided his frazzled nerves.

Wooyoung spent most of him time with Yeosang at the cave, and San had questioned you regarding his behavior one day when he paid you a visit, hands heavy with the dinner he helped his mother prepare. You gaped at him, chopsticks in mid-air as you gave him an incredulous look, “What? No, I didn’t reject him- I don’t even like him like that— oh heavens this is Wooyoung we’re talking about, San. He’s like a brother to me. You know that. He’s just..” What sounded reasonable enough for Wooyoung to spend more time away from the only people he considered family? What were you going to say? Picking up on San’s lingering suspicion, you placed your utensil down, sighing and ringing your fingers together as you gazed at him in contemplation, “I..” the words you wanted stuck in your throat. Swallowing thickly, you suddenly found interest in the noodles and fish on your plate, “You know I have feelings for you, and only you. No one will ever change that, San.”

You were aware of how heated his face had become at the confession, brown hues lifting to study your features warily, “Do you really mean that? Am I good enough for you?”

You push past the need to shoot him an incredulous look, instead opting to reach over to clasp his hands in your own, fingers coiling with his,”Of course, I mean it. You’ll always own my heart. It’s always been that way.”

“But I need you to tell me that I’m good enough for you,” he pushed his plate away, appetite gone as he stared stoically at you, his voice so small it sounded like a whisper,“Do you think I’m capable of protecting you? Or.. or even loving you? Am I?”

“You are. You’re more than enough for me,” you stood up to hug his head against your chest, his eyes locked on yours, stunned and almost teary-eyed, “You’ll always be enough.”

One moment you were busy eating dinner, and the next the two of you found yourselves entangled in each other’s embrace, exchanging feverish kisses and desperate, long-awaited touches that once only existed existed in your dreams, too insecure to turn them into reality. You kissed every mark and scar left from the hands of his father, murmuring gentle praises against his marred skin, his muscles rippling underneath your touch. His lips wouldn’t leave your form, biting and sucking at every expanse of flesh he could reach as he rocked into you, hands gripping your hips and waist almost possessively. 

He fell against your bare form in a heap, your conjoined bodies sticky and glistening with a thin sheen of sweat. His face was buried into the crook of your neck as he suckled onto a patch of your bruised skin, hot breath fanning against your already heated flesh as he whispered sweet, muffled promises against the shell of your ear. You felt his release slowly dribble from where your bodies met, your frame squirming at the sensation as you unwrapped your legs from around his waist, spreading them apart to allow him room to settle against your panting figure.

“I can’t believe you actually thought I was into Wooyoung,” you groaned in embarrassment as he littered your chest with tiny love marks, teeth scraping against your skin in the most pleasurable way. He chuckled against your supple flesh, and it’s then you realized you haven’t seen a smile reach his eyes quite like this in all the years you’ve known him.

The next morning, he expected to find a flustered Wooyoung at the sight of San sleeping in his home, but his sheets were still pristine and untouched, just as they were the night before. He questioned you about Wooyoung while you two shared a light breakfast together, beams of sunlight doing wonders to his chiseled visage and bed hair.

“Okay, I guess I’ve been keeping this away from you for too long, and Wooyoung didn’t want me mentioning it—” An inferno set ablaze in San’s eyes, and you internally scolded yourself for the lack of appropriate words. You hastily whispered before he had the opportunity to open his mouth, “He made friends with a siren, and-”

“With a siren!?” His spoon clattered in the bowl of porridge, splashing the table and the mug of tea. Your eyes widened and you slapped a finger to your lips, telling him to lower his voice, “What do you mean be quiet!? He’s with a siren, and you’re okay with that!?”

His hard gaze was trained on you, and an involuntary shiver ran down your spine. You parted your lips to explain, when suddenly, he pushed back his seat, chair scraping the floor as he made his way over to Wooyoung’s closet, throwing on the leather baldric he found and sheathing Wooyoung’s sword, before tugging his boots only to spare you a brief glance. You trailed after San, hands tugging desperately at his arms, but he refused to turn around and listen, “Listen, I’ve tried telling him, but he wouldn’t have it! Trust me, this is going to do more harm than good- He can hear the siren! They communicate telepathically and- and.. there’s no explanation to it but please- I’ve tried persuading him, but he’s too stubborn for his own good.”

“You..,” San paused in his tracks, turning around to give you a hard stare, eyes clouded with conflict. His lips parted, before they pressed into a thin line, shoulders tense with anger, “If you think I’m going to sit back and hope one of my best friends won’t die in the hands of a monster, then you must’ve lost your mind.”

The words stung, but you knew that was his irrational side taking over. A part of you knew you couldn’t blame him for rash behavior he’s grown from being around someone as horrid as his father, “You’re going to show me where he is, before I take this to the King and have that beast slaughtered.”

You were in for a lot of shit, and you didn’t know who to be afraid of most. San, for keeping this information away from him? Wooyoung, who made you promise you wouldn’t speak of this? Yeosang, who wasn’t that quite fond of you? Or King Hongjoong, who followed in the footsteps of his father, abiding by all the laws the older has set for the people.

When San stumbled into the cave, gently prying you off, his eyes burning with rage as he searched for a familiar head of purple, “Wooyoung!”

Flashes of confusion, betrayal, and anger sparked within Wooyoung’s eyes as he noticed the two of you, his eyes sending you a silent question as you noticed the glimmer of Yeosang’s tail underneath the dark waters.

‘You have gone crazy, haven’t you?’

Wooyoung chose to ignore him, pushing past his shoulder with the books he borrowed from the library tucked underneath his arm. If he recognized the baldric fastened on San’s torso, he made no implication of it. A furious hand clamped onto his shoulder, swiveling him back to face the the seething swordsman. San threateningly leaned into Wooyoung’s face, eyes raging with an inferno of anger and hostility. The purple haired male hesitantly bought a hand up to tug at the collar of his tunic, but San’s eyes already took note of the purple marks on the column of the boy’s flesh, “Are you fucking kidding me? You didn’t tell me he was intimate with it too!?”

“San,” you called out in annoyance, “Stop. He’s safe, you see? I told you Yeosang means no ha—”

A sudden flash of silver made you reel back in shock, your eyes widening at the sight of San brandishing his sharpened sword, the tip barely grazing the siren’s nose as the two froze to stare each other down. Wooyoung dropped the book he carried in surprise arms flying out to tug San’s weapon back, his own orbs furiously staring his friend down.

“Yeosang, leave!” You shouted amongst the commotion of your two friends, stepping around them to lightly push at Yeosang’s shoulders deeper into the water, “You’ll get killed! Leave!”

“Don’t underestimate me, little human. You’re going to regret the day you were born.”

Your eyes widened at the sight of his parted lips, swiftly rushing back to the other two, but you couldn’t call San in time to warn him, “Cover your-”

The sword clattered against the small boulders beneath San’s feet, eyes unfocused as the melodic sound of the siren’s call echoed within the walls of the cave, filling his ears. Wooyoung stared at his best friend’s face in shock, eyes flickering down to the sword, before he gazed at Yeosang in realization. He hesitantly watched San turn around in Yeosang’s direction, before he quickly wrapped a hand around the ebony haired male’s waist, tugging him back harshly,’Yeosang! Stop! I won’t let you kill him!’

Yeosang paid no mind to his friend’s protests, amused eyes flickering from both San and yourself, who struggled on maintaining your ears clamped with your hands. He raised his voice, lips quirking as your hands fell limp against your sides, eyes locked on the vast space in front of you. His hands itched at the thought of ripping the two of you apart from the inside out.

‘Yeosang! Stop!’

Yeosang’s voice was clearer than bells, and so devastatingly, hauntingly beautiful in your ears, and you wanted nothing more than to listen to it for years to come. Wooyoung’s panic stricken eyes flew over to your form as you trudged through the waist deep water, eyes unfocused and lips parted. He struggled to maintain a firm grip on San’s figure, who continuously clawed at the arms securing him in place.

Throwing San back against the mossy wall of the cave, Wooyoung madly dashed to tackle Yeosang down into the water, immediately ceasing his singing. The siren hissed in retaliation, nails dragging down the flesh of the hands clamped onto his mouth. He furiously swung his tail against Wooyoung’s ankles, pulling him down into the water. Snapping out of your trance, you were quick on your feet to help San up, hastily gripping the heavy sword away from his grasp. When he demanded you to hand it to him, Wooyoung shoved the both of you in the direction of cave’s entrance, furiously signing to leave immediately.

‘I’ll be fine! Just leave!’

A clawed hand reached out to slash at San, and out of instinct, you shoved yourself in between him and the siren, claws latching onto your ankle. Your immediate response was to pull away, flesh tearing underneath the sharp nails, a hiss leaving your lips as the salt in the ocean doing nothing to ease the pain of your opened wounds.

Wooyoung wrestled the siren down, hands clamped around his mouth, while he shot you two a look over his shoulder, eyes wild and void of any patience. San scoffed, hand wrapping around your waist to hoist you up on your good leg, eyes narrowed furiously,”You should have never stopped me from killing it–” “Shut up, San. If you had listened to me, we wouldn’t have been in—”

You emitted a groan of pain as your wounded leg brushed against the protruding edge of a rocky sides of the cave, hissing underneath your breath as you gripped San’s forearm to ease your mind off the burning sensation. Finally stumbling down onto the pebbled floor of the shore, you paused as San pulled away from you, “You go get help, and I’ll go back and-”

“You are not going back there! He will kill you, San. Get that through your thick head.”

“He nearly killed you, (y/n)! We left Wooyoung with that monster!”

“He’ll be okay, I promise. Wooyoung will be fine,” you groaned at the sight of red running down your ankle and soaking the sand underneath your foot,”Please, just fucking listen to me for once!” He stilled at your raised voice, and your eyes widened suddenly at the change of his demeanor. You quickly grasped his elbows, attempting to look him in the eye, “Oh, San- no. No, I’m sorry. I’m sorry for yelling- I forgot-”

“We should get your leg checked out,” he quipped firmly, avoiding your gaze as he proceeded to push you in the general direction of town, his shoulders and jaw tense with unresolved tension and anger.

— It was midnight, and Wooyoung still hadn’t returned home. Your one room living space felt too vacant without him sleeping on the top bunk bed you shared. Your ankle throbbed beneath the thick bandages, the smell of herbal ointment prominent even underneath the heavy layers of cloth.

You tossed and turned in your sheets for what felt like hours. The exhaustion and worry that clouded your mind prevented you from falling asleep. You quickly sat up, reached to light your oil lamp, before making your way out of your home to wander restlessly in the desolate streets, hoping to find the purple haired male.

You paused once you stepped around the corner of San’s neighborhood. Broken and discarded glass decorated the floor near his feet where he sat against the entryway of his home. The door hung by its hinges, splintered and shattered in some areas. You nearly dropped your lamp as you rushed towards the disheveled male, whose half-buttoned up, bloodied shirt, revealed glimpses of jagged scars left from his duels. Your eyes studied his visage, brows knitting in concern at the familiar, ghostly frown. His eyes spared you the briefest of looks before he dropped his gaze down to his bloody hands. Dried tear streaks and specks of red decorated his ghostly visage. The faint barking of a dog was heard streets away.

“It’s not mine. None of it is mine,” he mumbled, noticing your stunned gaze at the sight of red.

“They fought again?” you asked, already knowing the answer. He nodded silently, arms limp at his sides, “.. and she ran away again?” Another nod, and suddenly he found himself engulfed in your hold, tears streaming down his face as he held you close, face buried against the crown of your head. His resolve shatter quicker than any glass.

“I- .. I was angry, (y/n). I fought with him,” His voice was small and wavering, jumbled thoughts spilling rapidly from his lips,”the medics took him. He called me a bloodthirsty killer– but I’m..was it was defense? That’s not considered killing, right?” His breathing quickened, chest heaving as he struggled to steady his air flow, voice rising an octave as panic laced his tone,” “I’m not a killer, am I (y/n)? I am nothing like him,” his fingers tugged at his untamed hair in frustration, pupils quivering rapidly as he attempted to calm his racing and frantic heart, “I will never be anything like him. I need you to tell me that. Tell me I’m nothing like him!”

You pulled him inside and onto the couch, stepping over the fallen furniture, splintered wood, broken flower vases, and torn, embroidered, floral tapestries that littered the floor. Your eyes caught sight of a fallen, bloodied sword you recognized from San’s practices. Cold dinner filled plates lay broken near the flipped table. You held onto your broken friend throughout the night, consoling him repeatedly and wiping away his tears. You pressed numerous kisses onto his face, your hand running through his locks as he buried his face into the crook of your neck, years of agony apparent in his loud, torturous cries muffled against your skin. The sounds made your skin crawl in the most unpleasant way. You paused only when you noted the change in pattern of his breathing, indicating his deep slumber. Your eyes glanced at the full moon out the window, only praying that both Wooyoung and Mrs. Choi were alright.

—

Wooyoung was curled onto one of the higher rocks of the cave, fast asleep. He refused to return back home, not yet ready or willing to face his friends. Droplets of seawater pelting his face startled him awake, and he sat up in confusion at the sudden sensation. This definitely do not look like the ceiling of his home. His eyes snap down to search for Yeosang, the memories from hours ago vividly etching themselves back into his mind.

His eyes locked on someone else’s- a woman’s- and his eyes could only stare back in shock at the sight of San’s mother of all people in the cave, struggling to pry a raging Yeosang off of her.

‘Yeosang! Stop! Don’t kill her! I know her-’

‘You say that about every rat of a human, don't you?’

Only when Yeosang turned to snap the intruder’s neck in half, he paused at the gleam of her necklace. His gills contracted as he gazed at the intricately carved pendant resting on the older woman’s clavicles, “Where did you get that, filthy human?” he hissed, fins and rays flaring out ferociously, his long and sharp teeth snapping at the rage in his tone,”That necklace is for my people. My clan.”

“A friend gave it to me,” the lady explained, hand protectively clutching the pendant and out of Yeosang’s sight. He glowered menacingly at her, eyes still holding numerous silent questions. His eyes glanced down at her blue and purple marred neck and décolletage, “You.. you resemble him so much. My friend. This used to be our hang out spot years ago. His name was Yeohan. Did you know him?”

Yeosang jerked back suddenly, and from Wooyoung’s spot and the darkness engulfing the cave, he could hardly make out the movements of their lips. He scrambled to climb down the rocks, making his way over, legs frantically splashing in the water.

‘Yeosang? What’s wrong?’

“How do you know my father!? He died-”

“Twenty years ago,” Mrs. Choi finished for him, his eyes growing wide with shock at the woman’s affirmation,”The king killed him for the coming-of-age ritual. He wears his coat to this day. The moment I saw you, I knew you had to have been his offspring. The resemblance is uncanny.”

“You think I don’t know the evil things you’ve done to my people?” The siren spat, “I don’t need you telling me what crimes your kind has committed-”

“I will get it back for you. His coat. I’ll return it to you here by dawn.” Silence enveloped the two as the sea creature stared with a gaping mouth at the human.

His eyes narrowed in suspicion, “What purpose would that serve you? Certainly, not out of kindness?”

She only offered him a sad smile. — You adjusted your trousers one last time, before leaning down to brush the hair out of San’s face. He stirred awake from your touch, eyes tired and puffy, “Is it morning?”

You glanced at the dark window, shrugging slightly before turning back to him, “Sort of. I need to deliver the fish to the merchants. I think.. I think you should stay here until I’m back. We can go check on your mom together? Do you want the keys to my place? Go rest there while I’m away.”

He nodded with a soft sigh, hand cupping the one you placed onto his palm,”I’ll stay here to clean up. Don’t take too long, please.”

“I won’t. Just please rest for me, okay? Maybe Wooyoung will come back to visit you here.”

You pressed a firm kiss against his lips, one he gladly reciprocated even in his sleepy state, “Love you.”

You were the first to discover Mrs. Choi’s body. Nothing, absolutely nothing, could have prepared you for the sight of a corpse, limp and pale and stuck between a cluster of jagged rocks underneath a cliff. The net of fish you hauled onto your back dropped with a loud thud onto the deck of the docked fishing ship, the sailors and other fisherman yelling at you in shock. It was only when you pointed out the body swaying against the rocks with every wave that they abandoned their work to call a nearby officer. 

Dread, heavy and ugly, filled you to the core, the sound of your heartbeat in your ears drowning out the shouting in the background. Panic worked its way out of every pore on your body, your eyes locked on the floating, dark haired woman,  olive green dress swaying gently in the calm waters of the early morning.

It couldn’t be her.

She wasn’t the only woman in town with such a dress. A glimmer of hope twinkled somewhere inside of you.

Not her. Anyone but her. Upon closer inspection as the officers hauled up the body, you nearly collapsed on sight. A shudder claimed your body in realization, your blood running cold at the sight of her frozen, gaping, her lips a dark hue of blue, forehead marred and slightly dented from where she most likely impacted the rocks. You could only stare silently as the medics hauled the body up on a stretcher, placing it in the back of a large wagon, the sound of hooves hitting the rocky pavement indicating its departure.

Just how on earth are you planning on letting San know?

—

Hours later, after arguing continuously with the medics, protesting how you needed to see the body, they ultimately refused, even calling out to guards to lock you out of the medical wing of the building. The town of Aurora was coiled in chaos at the announcement of the corpse found near the docks. The councilmen furiously argued amongst each other as the crowd grew bigger in the town’s square, right beneath the large clock tower. Curious people joined along in confusion at the sudden, early commotion, some propping their windows open to tend to their clothe lines and watch with bewildered eyes.

You stood amongst the crowd, fists clenching repeatedly whilst maintaining your flaring emotions. You pondered whether or not you should stick around or go and inform San, when one of the royal family’s servants ordered the towns councilmen to the town hall for an immediate meeting with the current and former king. You turned to race towards the aforementioned building, only for a hand to grip you in place. Turning, your heart leaped in your throat at the solemn looking San. He made no move forward, and all you could do was silently gape, unsure of how you were going to break the news to him, “Couldn’t sleep. I know. The neighbors told me when I went back to check the library,” he calmly explained over the hordes of bodies shoving and pushing past the two of you. Amongst the rush of civilians, you embraced him with trembling arms, your brows knitting in anger as you buried your face into his brown tunic.

You grasped his hand in hopes of comforting him while the two of you waited amongst the crowd in the town hall for the appearance of the King and his father. He held you close, chin resting against the crown of your head. You can tell he was in shock, his grief yet to be surfaced as he held you silently. His eyes were heavy with years of turmoil and anguish, all underneath the hands of one, grimy man. Knowing him, deep down, he most likely will never find it in him to forgive himself for not chasing after his broken mother last night. It will haunt him for years to come.

King Hongjoong appeared, seated in the middle of the large bench, his father to his right. Other noblemen also sat beside the two rulers. A medical examiner spoke rapidly in hushed whispers to the white haired male, whilst pointing to several parchments of paper. The King’s brows knitted the more the examiner spoke, and he nodded solemnly, a hand reaching up to dismiss the two medical staff. A gloved hand pinched the bridge of his nose, his charcoal hues flickering to the side to glance at his father, whose stoic expression did not twitch in the slightest at the barren news. 

The Commander of the Royal Guards barked at the restless crowd of people gathered into the large room to have respect for the King, and the silence that followed suit was deafening. King Hongjoong cleared his throat, his hair pristine as usual, although there seemed to be a weight of burden and stress taking a toll on his young features. His eyes were lifeless and dark, a stark contrast to when he was much younger. 

“It’s come to our attention that the body of Mrs. Choi has been found near the harbor. Upon investigation, medical examiners have concluded that cause of death was suicide,” Hongjoong spoke clearly, voice booming in the walls of the building.

You felt San’s grip on your hand tighten, his brows furrowed as he attempted to contain his composure. You saw guilt flash within his orbs, so raw and visible it made you look away, at anything besides his face. It didn’t sound right hearing the words come out from the king’s lips. You knew Mrs. Choi as well as you knew San. There’s no way she would have willingly dove to her death. “Isn’t Mr. Choi also in the hospital for multiple stab wounds?” A voice piped from the crowd. Hongjoong frowned at the sudden interruption, his hands reaching up to adjust his cloak, when another voice spoke up.

“Where is their son? I heard from neighbors that he was the one who stabbed his father,” a middle aged man mused loudly to the crowd.

“Is that why Mrs. Choi killed herself?” a lady joined in now,”Or was her son behind her fall too?”

“What if a siren killed her?”

“Nonsense, we haven’t seen one in the past four years.”

“Then who do you think has been cutting all of our fishing nets and destroying our sails?,” a familiar voice rang out through the hall. The tall male stepped closer to the Commander, before turning to the crowd, and you watched with horror in your eyes at the next few words to slip out of the Minjae’s mouth, “I’ve been telling my dad about the purple-haired boy who’s been meeting with sirens in the cave east of town. I saw the siren with my own eyes. I told you Wooyoung was up to no good. He’s probably selling all of our people’s information to those beasts.”

Hongjoong’s lips parted to speak, anger clearly painting his features, before his father stood up suddenly, gaze hard and unwavering at the Commander. It was then you noticed the lack of cloak on his frame,”Interacting with those beasts is a criminal offense punishable by death. Find me that boy. I want him publicly executed in the town’s square. As for the librarian’s son, find him as well. Lock him in the chambers until I decide what to do with him.”

Hongjoong gaped to the side at his father in disbelief, brows knitting in confusion, his kohl rimmed eyes wide. Mingi, who stood behind the white haired King glanced at the male, shoulders tense at growing chaos infiltrating the room, “Let me make the decisions, Father. I am King, after all.”

San reached down to grip onto your hand, and when his hand curled into nothing but air, his eyes snapped down to find your figure gone. 

“You old bastard!” A sickening crunch, a wave of gasps of disbelief, and your shouting sent the townspeople into a mad frenzy.

—

Wooyoung watched the small fish swim by his feet, nibbling at his toes. He smiled tenderly, feet swishing and kicking at the animals playfully. Off to the side, Yeosang held onto his father’s cloak, so tightly and desperately as if it would disappear,’I told you that lady was nice.’

Yeosang reached up to rub at his wet eyes furiously, golden orbs flickering up to meet the umber colored ones of the male,’I take back my criticism. Maybe there are still some good humans out there. Repeat my words in front of Seonghwa, and I will personally claw out your eyeballs.’

‘If you do, how will I get to see your beautiful face?’ Wooyoung simpered, cheeks flushing slightly at the other’s thoughts. He nodded shyly, fingers reaching to grasp the siren’s hand, thumb caressing the iridescent skin,’Just like how there are sirens with good hearts as well,’ the intimate moment was soon interrupted by a frantic sound of splashing, and Yeosang’s face fell immediately upon the sight of a panic stricken San. Immediately reading the emotions haunting San’s features, Wooyoung stood up, face contorting in confusion as San scrambled to explain the gravity of the situation they were in, both verbally to Yeosang and with hand signs for Wooyoung.

‘They’re going to execute (y/n). Death by drowning.’

Wooyoung swore his heart skipped a beat or two, his eyes wide and hands limp by his sides. Yeosang quietly watched from behind him.

‘(Y/n) attacked the King’s father. They’re planning on executing you too for meeting with Yeosang. And they think I was the one who killed my mother, and they’re hunting for me, too.’

Wooyoung reeled back, the bombardment of shocking news too much for him to handle all at once, but San continued, occasionally fumbling with his hands from the sheer amount of stress surging through his system,’Wooyoung, we need to leave. Now. I’m going to bail (y/n) out, and you’ll wait for us at the west part of town. There’s a boat there. We have no time to waste,” he hastily reached forward to pull his friend up, tugging him forcibly over clusters of ocean rocks.

“In exchange, will you promise me to protect my son?”

It took Yeosang a minute or two to process the woman’s words, before he finally nodded in response, a frown settling on his features, “Only if you keep your end of the promise.” “No. You will join him on the boat and escape. Death by enforced drowning you said?”

—

You glared icily through the dark bars separating your form from the snow haired king. He ushered the guard to give the two of you privacy, and a minute of footsteps later, and the two of you were left alone in the dark chambers of the royal palace, mossy wall cold against your battered back, “What do you want?” you spat rudely, the taste of iron prominent against your busted lips, your bloodied teeth bared as you glowered at him, “If you’re here to give me shut about how I shouldn’t have attacked your swine of a—”

“They’re preparing the ship as we speak,” he cut you off, a hint of amusement dancing in his orbs joined by the flickering fire of the wall mounted sconce illuminating his features. He casted your cuffed hands a glance, before gazing at your bleeding ankle, “So, I came as fast as I could. The guards have already left to hunt down your two friends.”

Dread bled into your form, and your blood ran cold at the sudden gravity of his words. You were going to die. God, you were going to die before properly apologizing to Wooyoung, before holding San one last time, before- “I have a few words to share with you- I’m afraid I won’t be able to tell you this soon, so,” you watched him remove the golden coat around his frame, rolling it tightly before placing it down into the cell, “Incase either one of us doesn’t make it.. you know what this is, right?”

“A siren’s coat? Of course, I do. What’s your point?”

A twinge of a smile graced his features at your sharp tone, before his face fell into a solemn expression,”It’s tradition that an heir becomes of age when he or she slays a siren and wears it’s coat as a sign of dignity, bravery, and honor. It’s been the case for many generations before me. My father earned his when he was twenty-three. My mother came from another royal family from Port Hala. They do not hold similar traditions as us, and instead do not meddle or interfere with sirens. When it came for me to sail alone and kill one, at a much younger age than my father was, my mother insisted that our family breaks the tradition. My father, as you can guess, disagreed and left no room for her arguments. She threatened to take me and make a run for it if they forced me into it, and later that night, they found her body not too far from shore. My father informed the public that it was the sirens’ doing, but no one was permitted to see her body. Not even me.”

His eyes drifted to the patch of green on the wall behind you, shaking his head and continuing with a lowered voice, “So, I sailed to uninhabited islands, knowing that there were gentle sirens there, and not like the ones that lurked here amongst humans. I met one, a very young one. He was very adventurous and snuck from his kind to chase his pet octopus and.. he was harmless, unable to hear, thus never really learning how to sing any of the sirens’ songs. He was a very naive, little one. I persuaded him to come on land with me because we were friends, and I ran off with his coat, thinking it would be the last I’ll see him. I never had the courage or heart to kill him, and I never thought he’d wash up into our town, either.”

Whatever air you had left was knocked out straight from your lungs. You knew where this was going. You held his gaze with your widened orbs, bloodied jaw slack from shock.

“I intended to kill him that night he was found, but after the doctors discovered his head injury and lack of memories, other than his name among other things, I chose to spare his life. I was afraid my father and the rest of the town will find out. I was and always will be a coward, even as King of Aurora,” he mused, hands reaching up to adjust his white blouse, “I will be on board the boat taking you to your execution. My bodyguard, Mingi, will join us, along with my father’s right hand man, who was behind Mrs. Choi’s death. She was found stealing my father’s coat, but she managed to slip away before the guards had a chance to retrieve it. My father sent him to do whatever means necessary to punish her for her actions.

I know my father better than anyone else. Without a doubt, I know he was behind her death. (Y/n), please, whatever you do, do not attempt to fight him. Go with the plan. Mingi and I already discussed everything, and he will help you out once you’re dropped from the ship. I don’t plan on allowing my father to return back to town,” his eyes grew dark, the shadows of stress aging his appearance. Your eyes widened at his implications, “And I might not make it out alive. If I don’t, Mingi will give you my coat when he rescues you. I need you to apologize on my behalf if I am unable to. Mingi is a great sailor. His father taught him, so he knows his way around a ship. I want you two to escape to Port Hala as soon as you find Wooyoung, is that understood? Take Choi San with you. Mingi will take you to Yunho and Jongho, two friends of ours who will help you. This town will have your heads if you step foot back here.”

The rush of information was too much for your tired brain to comprehend so quickly. You meekly nodded, cuffed hands reaching to clasp the bars tightly, your eyes never leaving the golden coat he donned on, “Yes, King Hongjoong.” “Hongjoong. Just Hongjoong.”

—

You struggled to maintain the heavy weight of the reinforced cuffs around your wrists, body staggering forward from a boot to your back, your frame crashing into the railing of the large ship. You hissed upon impact, the marks on your ankle bleeding against the bandages. You were roughly tugged by the hair, the bruised face of the former king coming into view as his second in command held you by your disheveled locks, “Helmsman! A bit further and then you can drop the anchor!” The old man boomed, gray tresses tied tightly into a high bun, his charcoal hues burning holes into your head. 

You snuck a glance at Mingi, whose eyes never left your form. His hands gripped the steering wheel harshly, knuckles bone-white. A subtle nod of his head washed a bit of relief over your trembling frame. Hongjoong watched from beside his father, as the man shoved your face into metal railing of the ship, sharp ends of the wood slicing your cheek. A familiar glimmer in the water captured your attention, and your eyes met a pair of golden ones deep under the calm waves of the ocean. Your eyes widened, a gasp threatening to leave your lips.

The ship finally came to a halt, and a pair of shiny, leather boots invaded your vision. You glowered at the king from your position on the deck, cheekbones bruised and lip split. You spat onto his shoes, blood splattering on his ironed, white trousers. Charcoal hues void of any empathy stared down at you, before the former king’s hand reached down to tug you up by the collar of your shirt, his crown sparkling under the bright sun. You shared a look with a tense Hongjoong who remained back, his hands clenching into fists, before you were bought back to reality as the older man slammed your back against the railing, pushing you up, your frame dangerously tilting over the edge, “After my kingdom has sacrificed so much for you stupid orphans, this is how you return the favor?” he growled, the strands of his beard tickling your forehead as he gripped your jaw with his other hand, “You will wish I had just shot you when the sirens rip you apart limb by limb. Your screams of agony will sound like a beautiful melody to my ears.”

Your eyes locked with golden ones, and you couldn’t help but reflect back on the time you confronted him in the cave.

“Why do I kill you treacherous humans?” he laughed at your question, your eyes narrowing as a result. He grasped the moving whelk on the rock, clawed fingers crushing it as his gaze never left your own, “Easy. Your King took my father away from me.”

The gruff man released his hands from your collar to swivel you around, but you hastily threw your arms out to reach his head, your vision unclear with unkempt and bloody strands of your hair. The link on your cuffs latched onto the back of his neck, and you tugged him towards you roughly, hoping gravity will be of assistance. Your frames tipped down and your lips quirked up without you realizing it. The last thing you saw before you plummeted down to the blue waters was Mingi’s and Hongjoong’s shocked faces, the latter’s frame already rushing forward to try and reach you with an extended hand. The three of you were definitely expecting this outcome You dove head first into the ocean, the elderly man beside you only feet away. Your attempts to swim up to the surface proved futile as the weights of the cuffs around your ankles and wrists succumbed to gravity. A purple tail smacked your side, and you came face to face with a familiar visage, the air escaping your lungs in bubbles. Rough claws tugged on the metal chains and cuffs, and after a few attempts, the metal snapped under the pressure. 

“Wrap your arms around my neck. Don’t try anything funny, or this time I will kill you,” the purple-tailed siren growled, turning his head to glance at the other siren who seemed to enjoy circling around the man who seemed to panic at the sight of the being across from him. Golden eyes studied the old man struggling to swim up to the surface.

You desperately gasped for air once breaching the surface of the water, arms loosely wrapped around the back of the other’s neck. He paid you no mind as he carefully watched his friend’s head surface, golden eyes trained on the white haired man yelling up at the others on board to save him. 

Hongjoong’s eyes were void of any empathy as he casually crossed his arms on the railing, leaning forward and blinking in response to his father’s shouts. He spared you a second to gaze at your form, relief melting his stoic features slightly. Beside him, the second in command made an attempt to shoot at the blonde siren silently staring at the former leader, the barrel of his pistol gleaming in the sunlight. 

“Drop it,” the deep voice of the red-head was heard from behind Hongjoong, his own pistol resting against the against the man’s temple. Hongjoong didn’t bat an eyelash as Mingi overpowered the other, threatening to shoot if he didn’t comply.

“Are you crazy!? The beast is going to kill him, and all you’re doing is watching!? You’re a sorry excuse of a king- you! You have never had the power to walk in your father’s foots-” his cries were muffled against the cold, metallic barrel of Mingi’s pistol pressing against the back of his throat.

Yeosang’s gaze met Hongjoong’s, who spared him a glance before returning back to the gasping man, his hands clawing at the ship’s hull with desperate shouts.

“Don’t you recognize me, you bastard?”

The elder’s head turned to peer at the creature with fear-filled eyes, his legs beginning to tire after the long waking minutes of staying afloat.

“A disgusting beast that preys on human flesh,” the other growled, hands stabilizing his form against the ship. His intricately embroidered vest sparkled despite it being wet, dark orbs burning holes into the siren.

Seonghwa’s brows knitted as an undecipherable look washed over Yeosang’s features, his jaw tight, gills rapidly contracting. There was a raging storm within those golden hues Seonghwa hasn’t seen in a very, very long time. Yeosang’s lips twitched convulsively, a crazed look suddenly taking over his visage.

 A humorless, sarcastic laugh escaped his throat, shoulders shaking and brows knitting in confusion as he swam closer to the trembling man, “Take a good look at me! Tell me who I am!” he barked, the rays and fins on his neck flaring in the most menacing of ways, bared teeth gleaming like the ocean’s pearls.

The white haired man drew a breath, his lips parting as he glanced once more at the trembling siren, charcoal hues flashing with recognition suddenly, “You.. you’re the son? You’re his son.”

“The one you tried to kill!,” a howl of laughter left Yeosang’s mouth, as his head dipped back to gaze at a stunned Hongjoong, “Fate is quite hilarious, do you agree? Huh?” Clawed hands struck the ship’s hull, chipping the wood and creating furrows on the surface as Yeosang inched closer, “I was forced to watch my father protect me from you, only for you to kill him in front of my eyes. How brave of you to go after a four year old siren. And now, look at you, you poor, pathetic bastard,” his clawed hand reached forward to grab a fistful of white hair, roughly tugging the man’s head back to meet the gaze of his son, “Not even your son is willing to save you.”

“Shoot him this instant, you bastard! What are you doing staring at me like that!?”

Hongjoong remained as still as a statue, cold gaze unwavering. You swore you saw the corner of his lips twitch. There was a silent acknowledgement of understanding as Yeosang locked gazes with Hongjoong one last time.

“He’ll rather watch as I skin you alive. You don’t deserve the mercy of being under my song’s spell, no..” he shot his arm out, smashing the man’s face against the side of the ship, agonized howls of laughter switching to manic shouting whilst repeating the action, “No, I want you to feel everything. You’re going to feel every inch of your skin being peeled away. A coat for a coat, yes?”

A blob  of saliva flew and splattered against Yeosang’s face, dripping down to the blue waters. 

You jolted as the siren you held onto suddenly gyrated in the other direction, ripping your gaze from the scene as sounds of flesh squelching and tendons tearing came from behind. 

Seonghwa decided it will be best not to stick around to see the outcome, knowing fully well what Yeosang is capable of. He readjusted you onto his back, before commanding you to take a deep breath. An involuntary shiver ran down your spine as the pained cries of the former king were washed out with the thumping of your heartbeat in your ears. 

You were then enveloped in the dark waters of the ocean, the siren rapidly swimming yards away, surfacing for the briefest of moments in order for you to breathe. You had no chance to even ask him where he was taking you, and your mind could only wonder what Hongjoong was feeling at the moment. You were beyond exhausted, both mentally and physically. Your squinted eyes caught glimpses of the clouds of marine life that you hastily rocketed past, arms subconsciously tightening around the dark haired siren.

When the siren breached the surface, you gasped for air, your arms tightly coiled around his neck, causing him to wince and attempt to shrug you off, “Here’s the runt, as promised,” he growled, arms swiftly prying you off and shoving you forward to two other pairs. You stumbled into a tiny dinghy boat, mind too stunned to return the hugs that you were immediately enveloped in. It was the moment when fingers swiped at your cheeks that you realized you were crying, sobs of relief wracking your frame as you wrapped your arms around the other two men, struggling to explain what happened.

Wooyoung’s eyebrows shot up as San pulled you in for a kiss, an incredulous look meeting his features. Seonghwa grimaced in the water, his head turning as he mumbled something about how disgusting humans were. San shared an apologetic look towards the flustered Wooyoung, whose eyes wouldn’t stop flickering between the two of you for an answer.

‘I’ll explain later, promise,’ the ebony haired male signed, before he was forced to meet your gaze.

“We have to go back. I need to see the King,” you stated after the three of you pulled apart. Wooyoung paused whilst speaking with Seonghwa telepathically, eyes flickering to an angered San who grabbed the pair of oars from your hands, “San!”

“Are you crazy!?” He breathed out, “We’re leaving! We want nothing to do with this town any longer, (y/n). Wooyoung and I already made amends with Yeosang. We’re only waiting for him before we escape. I’m not letting you go back there, not after all the trouble we went through to get you here in the first place.” “You don’t understand!” you tried, stammering on your words, unable to conjugate any proper sentence, “Hongjoong helped me! He knows about your mother’s death- her killer! He’s on board,” you tugged San’s shirt desperately, “Hongjoong knows about Wooyoung, too! Before he came to our town! He can explain everything, please. We need to get to him. There’s no one else on board besides them, San.”

Wooyoung’s brows shot up as Seonghwa explained every word that was exchanged, his hues trained on San’s stunned expression.

A sigh left the siren’s lips.

“Yeosang owes me a lot for putting up with this shit,” Seonghwa grumbled, arms already working to push the dinghy back to where he rescued you, your words ringing in his ears like an echo. How did Yeosang manage to find three crazy humans- and what sea god decided to curse Seonghwa with this fate.

Tattered, white and gold, embroidered fabric littered the water around the blonde siren, bloodied, clawed fingers tracing the bejeweled crown in his hands, a solemn expression on his features. A heavy weight seemed to dissipate off the siren’s shoulders as an amused chuckle racked his frame, remembering the horror stricken cries of his father’s murderer.

The sight of a tiny boat in the distance caught the siren’s attention, and his golden hues narrowed in suspicion at the sight. This was not part of their plan at all. As it neared, his eyes bore heavily into Wooyoung for an explanation, flickering to San and then onto you, before he glared at an unamused Seonghwa, most likely exchanging heated words through their minds. You called out to Hongjoong to send down a rope ladder, and the white haired male’s head peeked up hastily at the sound of your voice. If San wasn’t trembling in rage beside you, you would’ve laughed at the expression on the young king’s features.

“Yeosang, are you okay?”

“You better have a reasonable explanation for this,” Yeosang stated, turning his attention to Seonghwa, whose eyes never left the crown in his hands.

A part of you wasn’t surprised at the sight of a bound and cuffed man on the ship’s deck, a bored Mingi towering over him with his dagger unsheathed.

“I had a feeling you’ll return here,” Hongjoong nodded in acknowledgement in your direction, before facing San, his expression sincere as he explained the reasoning behind his mother’s death. Silent tears streamed down his cheeks, darkening the wood beneath his feet as his eyes zeroed in on the gagged soldier feet away.

 Wooyoung’s hand clasped San’s, his heart aching for his friend. Guilt licked the edges of consciousness, regretting not asking her to stay with him and Yeosang back in the cave. If only he had, she would have been alive. Even after explaining to San, the older denying that it was Wooyoung’s fault, he still couldn’t help but feel like her blood was on his hands.

“I give you full permission to do as you wish with him,” Hongjoong squeezed his shoulder, his hand placing a long dagger in San’s palms. Your widened eyes flickered between San and the King. Wooyoung tugged you back, hands gripping your own. His eyes carefully studied San’s frozen expression, fingers twitching against the weapon in his hands, “I’m willing to do it if you don’t want to, of course.”

Mrs. Choi’s killer only shook like a leaf in the wind underneath Mingi’s feet, wild eyes watching the exchange.

San was quick to shake his head, walking past a bleak looking Hongjoong. Steady strides later, and the ebony haired male crouched down eye level towards the trembling soldier, whose eyes glared ferociously at the blank faced Mingi, “You,” he took a deep breath in, tongue darting out to lick a stripe against his chapped lips, “I bet you enjoyed killing an innocent woman, didn’t you?” A flick of silver, and the man winced at the thin, bleeding scrape on his cheek,”Answer me!”

Another flick of the dagger, and the binds gagging the man ripped into two, beads of red escaping the slice on his trembling lips, “King Kim ordered me to! The woman stole his coat! I was only following orders!” 

Hongjoong laughed from feet away, his boots stomping against the deck as he made his way over to the three men, arms crossed over his white blouse, “Mingi, do you think this poor excuse of a soldier hit his head on his way here? Who is the King of Aurora.”

“You, King Hongjoong,” Mingi quipped, a smile threatening his stony expression.

“And who should the soldiers take orders from?”

“You, King Hongjoong. Only you.”

Hongjoong’s eyes dulled as he shoved the tip of his boot into the man’s gaping mouth, pressing down against the back of his throat with hard shoves,”How silly of me. He was only following orders, though. He’s right. One must always follows the orders of a King,” his lips quirked up as he lowered his head to chuckle at the gagging man, his smile borderline manic, “San, as King, I order you to kill him.”

The man’s muffled cries against Hongjoong’s boot had no affect on San, whose hands trembled the longer he stared at him. Hongjoong urged him to go on, kicking the man away with a swift attack to his jaw, his face scrunching up in disgust at the saliva glistening on the leather.

Rays of sunlight gleamed against the edge of the dagger as San raised it high above the fallen’s neck, his hand plunging down despite the man’s strangled cries of protest.

“You’re no better than me, you son of a whore. You take joy in hurting others, don’t you? Will you get off to the fact that you’ll kill me? Will your mommy be proud of you, then?”

The man trembled, his eyes practically rolling to the back of his head in shock as the dagger impaled into the wooden deck, splintering it upon impact. Moments of silence passed, the gentle breeze caressing San’s indifferent visage, dark hues hollow as he gazed down at the crying man. Hongjoong watched the retreating figure of San, before giving the sobbing man a glance over, “You’re pathetic. What did he ever see in you, anyway?” The soldier backed against the railing of the ship, profusely apologizing and bowing to Hongjoong. He turned on his heels, arm lazily coming up to wave back as he watched you console and cup San’s face in concern, “Let the sirens decide his fate.”

He ignored the agonized cries, the clanging of metal, and the loud splash seconds later, his smile gentle as he took your disheveled appearance in, “That was some stunt you pulled earlier. You saved me getting my hands dirty,” he chuckled at your expression, the scene reminiscent of the time he found the three of you in the street in the middle of shopping. 

Mingi could be heard in the background giving an approval to someone down below, and seconds later, gargled screams invaded the comfortable silence. You flashed him a small smile, fingers instinctively reaching up to give him a mock salute, “Still getting rid of rats for you, your majesty.”

An affectionate twinkle danced in his eyes as he shook his head in amusement, a hand reaching to ruffle your wet locks, “Always a loyal soldier to my kingdom, I see,” his charcoal hues flickered to Wooyoung, a sheepish expression taking over his visage, “Now I need your help getting my words through, if you don’t mind.”

You nodded, breathless as you quickly signed Hongjoong’s words to the lavender haired male, shock washing the latter’s features at the King’s words, “I hope you find it in yourself to one day forgive me, although I know I do not deserve as much for everything I have put you through,” his hands reached up to remove the coat he wore, before he presented it to the stunned male, “I believe this belongs to you, Wooyoung.”

Trembled hands slowly gripped the golden coat, his eyes peering over at San and yourself for approval. San nodded, brows knitted anxiously as he hesitantly nodded. Wooyoung tugged it on, glancing down to examine the shiny, golden material. Head snapping up, Wooyoung had only a millisecond to gauge your reaction, before the King’s hands forcefully shoved him over the railing of the tall ship, your gasp merging with San’s yelp of shock.

“What the fuck is wrong with you!?”

Your hands clutched the railing, eyes searching the blue waters for any sign of your friend. Yeosang and Seonghwa peered at you from the other side in confusion when you propped a leg up onto the metal, preparing to dive in, when a laugh echoed in your ear, arms tugging you back, “Calm down! He’ll show up in three, two..”

Your squirming figure halted as you stared down in bewilderment at the purple haired male staring back at you from the gentle sways of the waves. Gold pectoral fins and rays shimmered on his neck, and he looked down to study the matching fins on his forearms, jolting in surprise at the lack of legs. His head snapped to his left, where two other sirens gaped, seeming paler than they were minutes ago.

Yeosang’s eyes snapped to you, his gaze already telling you he’s going to demand answers as soon as he’s in earshot. 

San stood to your side, his eyes not leaving Wooyoung’s frame as he experimentally swam towards Yeosang and Seonghwa, both of whom hesitantly reached out to graze their clawed hands onto his tail, most likely wondering if it was real, “That’s why he was able to hear them..” you whispered softly, hands reaching up to rub at your eyes, before you cried loudly, startling the man beside you as you climbed onto the railing, arms waving madly at the three sirens, “Tell him I said he’s the prettiest siren I’ve ever seen!”

San grumbled underneath his breath, arms wrapping protectively around your waist to prevent you from falling over, “Can you try and not give me another heart attack, you bum.”

You and San returned to the tiny dinghy, your hands immediately reaching forward to touch and examine Wooyoung’s form in awe while San frantically explained everything to the impatient Yeosang. Wooyoung shot you a bashful look as you traced the gold rays and fins on his neck, before you peered closely at his now sharpened canines and iridescent, tan skin. He playfully attempted to bite your finger as you prodded his lip upwards. 

‘You look like a diamond now.’ 

Someone cleared their throat, and the three of you turned to look up at a sheepish looking Hongjoong, who clutched the ship’s rope ladder, his frame facing you. Wooyoung’s head snapped up moments later.

“I know you said you already made plans to escape the town but.. I wouldn’t mind having the best swordsman of Aurora join me and Mingi on this ship,” Two pairs of brows raised in surprise at the suggestion, your eyes snapping to meet San’s instantly. The king turned to you, his half-unbuttoned, white blouse swaying with the gentle breeze, his eyes kind and warm.

“You’re not going back to Aurora?” you asked quietly, feeling San’s fingers coiling with your own.

“No,” he mused, chuckling at the sight of Mingi’s discarded tight, golden, guard coat onto the water below, “Mingi and I made a promise when we were younger, to one day escape and put our past lives behind. I have no future in Aurora, and certainly not you three after everything you’ve pulled. Even with my word, I can’t guarantee your safety from the noblemen in the town, so,” he shrugged nonchalantly, boot tapping the wooden deck, “I am in dire need of a swordsman and a..” he paused, studying you in silence, unable to conjure up a position.

“I’ll get rid of the rats on your ship, King Hongjoong,” you said suddenly, frame rushing forward to lean over the dinghy, face scrunched in all seriousness.

His hand shielded his face as soft chuckles wracked his frame, your shoulders slumping down while even San shot you a somewhat amused look, “Of course. You can be the designated rat killer. We also need to patch up that nasty cut on your ankle.” 

Yeosang grimaced at the words, eyes hesitantly casting you a glance from where he floated.

“Wooyoung will come with us too, right?” You turned to glance at your friend, who clearly understood what was going on with the shocked and anxious expression he wore. Yeosang’s golden eyes snapped to you in an instant, a bitter frown tugging his lips down, “Wooyoung is part of our family. We can’t just leave him behind, siren or not.”

“He belongs in the ocean. He’s a siren,” quipped Yeosang, eyes darkening,”His place is in the water.”

“He’s family,” you argued back, eyes narrowing at the teal-tailed siren,”Whatever you two had going on was nice and all- but he’s still part of our family. We’re not leaving him behind. Siren or not, he’s still Wooyoung.”

“Maybe you should let him decide that.”

“Two good friends of mine in Port Hala are expecting us soon, actually. We’ll just drop by months in advance– they won’t mind, I’m sure,” Hongjoong leaned back against the hemp ladder, head tilting back and allowing the sunshine to envelop his delicate features, lips gracefully parting as he took sight of the sirens,”I think we have room for three more, as well.”

San shared a look of bewilderment with you, before looking back at the white haired male, who straightened up to quirk a brow at you, “Siren got your tongue?” Wooyoung’s eyes met your own before he gazed at Yeosang with a tearful, apologetic gaze. 

Family cannot be replaced.

An airy gasp left your lips as his clawed hands reached to grasp the dinghy, before hauling himself into the boat with San’s help. You rushed to envelop him in a tight hug, face buried against the fins on his neck, San following suit moments later. Yeosang peered silently from the water, a hard look settling on his features, jaw tight and brows knitted.

His eyes flickered to San subconsciously.

“Yes,” he whispered, nodding with a wistful expression across his visage , “I’ll protect your son.”

The women’s sad eyes flickered to Wooyoung and then back to the siren, “Please, protect all three of them. I consider them my children as well.”

“I will. I promise.”

“I’m going wherever Wooyoung is going,” Yeosang quipped defensively, “Seonghwa is coming too.”

“What-” a startled cry left the other’s lips, his bewildered eyes boring holes into Yeosang’s head, “I never agreed to this ridiculous change of plans. A human cannot ever be trusted, Yeosang. You know better than that.”

Conflict flickered in the golden hues, gaze trained onto the black haired siren, until a voice from above caught his attention,” We’ll have rules against touching anyone’s coats if that helps. Anyone who touches or takes your coats will be thrown overboard with no questions asked. I can guarantee that,” Hongjoong simpered, nodding his head confidently. 

“Are you really leaving?” Seonghwa gritted to Yeosang, the latter nodding his head in affirmation, “You stubborn bastard.”

“You finally have the opportunity to travel to all seven seas, and you’re going to throw it away just like that?” Yeosang quirked a brow, a knowing smile suddenly finding itself on his features as Seonghwa gives him an unimpressed look, “Besides, he’s certainly earned my trust after everything that’s happened.”

“Don’t use that against me.”

“You’ve wanted to since you were young. Guess I’ll just go live your dream then,” he shrugged absentmindedly, turning to flash Wooyoung a smile, “I’ll send you a seashell as-”

“Shut up already,” Seonghwa ran a hand through his dark locks, suddenly snapping his attention to the other humans, “If I ever find you trying to steal my coat, I’ll slice you and use your flesh as fish bait.”

San paled at the threat, and Hongjoong barked out a laugh, “You heard him, crew. Now, I suggest you all to come on board before the noblemen send an armada after us for not returning back to town.”

He blinked at the gaping, fearful expressions.

“That’s an order!”

You startled at the sudden volume, hand scrambling up to salute, San peering over at you in utter confusion, not knowing whether he should bow or salute, awkwardly doing both simultaneously.

“Yes, King Hongjoong!”

A streak of gold whizzed over your head, and at the sound of a splash behind you, your head snapped in surprise at the crownless man, a smirk displayed on his sharp features, “That’s Captain Hongjoong to you.”

#ateez scenarios #ateez imagines #ateez reactions #ateez x reader #ateez fic #yeosang imagines #wooyoung imagines #seonghwa imagines #hongjoong imagines #choi san x reader #choi san imagines #yeosang x wooyoung #choi san scenarios #wooyoung scenarios #yeosang scenarios #hongjoong scenarios #mingi imagines #seonghwa scenarios #mingi scenarios

[kessielrg]

[Kingdom Hearts] Old Habits, New Reasons

Summary: Three times in which Namine shies away from social functions just to draw, and the one time someone joined her. [oneshot][character study][NamiXi if you really wanna squint][also Namiku if you squint a little less]

Rating: K

Word Count: 3,469 words

If you liked this story, please reblog!

---

Their question had thrown Namine off slightly. She sheepishly looked down at her small sketchbook as if it could answer the question for her. The white page stared back at her in silence.

A part of Namine knew this would happen eventually. There was always that fear that someone would follow her, ask her what she was doing, and then tell her to rejoin the others. But that wasn't what they were asking, was it? They wanted to know why she was drawing. It was a simple question, and it was a bit odd that someone would have lugged a caboodle of art supplies with them to a banquet.

"Well?" the other girl asked. "Is there someone who would get mad you're drawing, even if you did it around your friends?"

"I don't think so." Namine decided, slowly. "But sometimes... it's just easier to draw without other people around you. And sometimes, when people find out that you're good at something, they make you do that something for them. It's not very fun."

"Do you always leave to draw, though?"

At first, Namine wanted to disagree with all her heart. But in introspection, it was more of a vice than she cared to admit. She loved drawing, but didn't like others watching her as she did it. When did that happen, she wondered. That didn't used to be the case...

"Sometimes." Namine finally said. She held her sketchbook a bit tighter before adding, "But only on certain occasions."

"Like?"

Namine looked over at the other girl with curiosity. She was greeted with a look just as inquisitive as her own. Maybe even more so. There was a genuine interest; that much was certain. Maybe there was a budding artist in their midst?

"Well..." she carefully said, moving her sketchbook a bit to flip through the earlier pages, "There was this one time..."

. . .

It was a small comfort that, while she wasn't a Keyblade wielder herself, the others considered her when they all got together. She still made sure that her presence didn't disturb anyone. Being quiet and observant was Namine's most reliable vice. That, and drawing. There wasn't much else she knew how to do. Her time as a Nobody barely ranged a year, and after that she was placed safely inside Kairi's heart until recently. Being a Somebody was... confusing, to say the least.

Being asked to join in on a slumber party with Kairi and Xion had been a surprise- perhaps even more so because Master Aqua herself gave her the invitation. Namine certainly didn't expect it to take place in the Land of Departure either. The world seemed far too grand to her -far too important in the history of Keyblade wielders- that it could be used for anything beyond a training arena. She was proven wrong after entering the Great Hall with Kairi. Aqua had given them a spot in front of the thrones, already decorated with sleeping bags for all four of them and a small assortment of snacks.

"I've never got to have a proper slumber party before, since it was me and Terra for most of our childhoods." Aqua admitted at some point. "Feels weird having one with you guys now. I feel like a mom."

It was Xion who, without skipping a beat, cheerfully declared, "And you're the best one I'll never have!"

"Xion!" both Aqua and Kairi declared, each with their own level of bewilderment. Namine only offered a stifled laugh. So proud at their reactions, Xion gave them all a smile so big, it almost rivaled Sora's.

After that, they started to talk about various things since they all met together. Apparently everyone's training was going rather well. Kairi was beginning to get a handle of second tier elemental magic, while Xion was working on personal techniques on and off for the past week. It was around this time that Namine politely excused herself from the others. They had been so caught up in their conversation that they didn't even notice.

Namine went to where she and Kairi had placed their personal things to find her caboodle. The caboodle was a neat little box with drawers that opened the same time she opened the lid. She was able to put all her art supplies in it. Most of them, anyway- her normal sketchbook was too large to fit. Instead, she used a smaller pad that was placed where the mirror in the caboodle was. Once Namine made sure she had everything, she carefully found a spot far enough away from the others so she could draw them. It honestly wasn't very far, but it was still far enough away that the other three didn't really notice her. That was fine. If anything, it was perfect.

The sounds of the others almost masked the sound of her pencil against paper. Spending most of her life locked away with nothing but drawing to distract her gave Namine a slight skill in speed drawing. However, she took her time when she started to work on her friends. She wanted as much detail as she could.

But she didn't bother to sketch her own sleeping bag. She tried to tell herself that it was because it ruined the composition. But deep down she knew it was because she didn't fit with the others, and so it didn't need to be included.

Namine finished her drawing without the others ever knowing she was gone. She placed everything back in her caboodle, then went back as Kairi went into a long story about Tidus and Wakka back on the islands. It was nice; the sounds of friendship. Namine had been the first to go to sleep that night.

. . .

At first, the only response she got was a quiet, "Oh..."

"It was a really fun time!" Namine quickly insisted. "And it really was a treat to be included."

"But you drew yourself out."

Namine flinched slightly. "It worked out better that way. From the angle I was at, it would have looked weird because I had the really light sleeping bag, and everything was so dark anyway..."

The other girl only looked more guilty.

"Do you still have the picture?" she wondered.

"I think so." Namine agreed. She adjusted herself so she could better go through her sketchbook before flipping through the earlier pages. "Here," she then offered as she handed it over.

There was a small hum as the other ran her fingers over the drawing. Namine had made deliberate choices in lighting around the three Keyblade wielders- light coming off of them as if they were lighting up the whole room. If you looked ever closer, you could see the detail of the castle's floor, and even make out the silhouettes of the three thrones in the background.

"Does anyone know that you go somewhere away from everyone to draw?" the other girl asked, handing the sketchbook back to Namine.

Namine gave a fond, almost bashful smile.

"There is someone..."

. . .

"There's a lot of people here." Namine noted as she tried to look over the crowd. Riku wasn't making the same amount of effort. Instead, he just casually looked on with a hand at his hip. Curse him being a full head taller than she was.

"Aqua said that Disney Town holds the Dream Festival every year." Riku agreed with a small nod. "Can't be that easy since Queen Minnie has almost been reigning the kingdom alone for the past few years. The effort is definitely amazing though."

Namine agreed with a nod and a small noise of affirmation. Disney Town looked absolutely splendid for the festival. All the colors, and the smells, and the energy was enough to put anyone in a good mood. The grip Namine had on her caboodle tightened slightly. A frown crossed her lips as she considered that there might have been too much commotion. There wasn't a good place to just sit and zone out without some kind of noise maker going off.

Riku must have noticed this. He looked over at her, and quickly saw her firm grip on the caboodle's handle.

"Are you sure you don't want to leave that in the Gummi Ship?" he asked. He even made a mild gesture to the box, which only made Namine hold it closer to her.

"No. I'm going to use it." Namine insisted. "I just... I just need someplace a bit more quiet..."

Riku nodded. He looked up again to see that Queen Minnie had taken the stage. The queen looked as beautiful as always in her formal pink and red ballgown. The jewels on her crown glittered under the multicolored overhead lights. Everyone cheered at seeing her- the love and admiration they had for their leader was enough to be felt from miles away. Minnie was a good queen, there was no contest about that.

As Minnie tried to settle the crowd down so she could speak, Riku bent down a bit to quietly tell Namine something.

"There's a sewage grate somewhere behind us. If you take it, there's a gizmo that will lead you up to one of the buildings overlooking the racetrack. Don't know about you, but a good aerial shot might be something to capture for later."

Namine grinned. "Thank you Riku." she said before giving him a small peck on his cheek. The young Keyblade master's face gleamed with a humble blush as he stood tall again, almost as if he had never moved at all. Namine laughed a bit at it before leaving.

Finding, and getting into, the grate had not been an issue. It did take her awhile to navigate the gizmo, though. But it was all worth it once she got to the top of a particular building. Namine let out a soft 'Oh...' of wonder as she sat down near the edge facing the racetrack. Riku was right- this was a good place to work. If only she was able to use larger sketch paper in her travelling kit.

When she was finished, Namine very quickly tried to find Riku again. She shouted his name after spotting him. He barely had time to turn around before she proudly displayed her new drawing to him.

"Do you think Queen Minnie will like it?" she asked, rather breathlessly.

Riku looked at her before looking down at the drawing. He put on a wide smile before telling her, "She's going to love it. It's perfect."

. . .

That story had brought about a rather brighter mood in the other girl.

"Did Queen Minnie like the drawing?" she asked. "You did give it to her after the festival, right?"

A sense of pride welled in Namine's heart, leading her to sit a bit straighter. "She loved it." she grinned. "She immediately had the brooms take it to the gallery to be expanded and mounted. You should have seen the look on Riku's face. He was as proud as I was, and probably more surprised!"

"I could only imagine." the other girl laughed. "Oh!" she then said, "Have you ever gone someplace with a view so nice that you just couldn't replicate it no matter how hard you tried? It's hard to recreate any atmosphere, in my opinion. I wanna know if you ever tried to as well."

Namine let out a soft hum as she thought about it. She let out a small noise of realization when it came to her.

"I did once before, yes." she agreed. "Since Kairi's parents don't mind me staying with them, I was able to join her, Riku, Wakka, Tidus, and Selphie to a beach party they had. It was still summer vacation, if I remember correctly. And Tidus really wanted to have a girls versus boys match..."

. . .

"Head's up!" Tidus shouted before serving the volleyball over the net.

"Cheater!" Selphie shouted back as Kairi managed to spike the ball back. Tidus only gave a rather sinister cackle back. However, at that point, no one was able to break their concentration just to smack talk each other.

Namine watched as Kairi and Selphie worked against Tidus and Riku in a rather well matched volleyball tourney. Wakka wasn't too far away- he had lost a bet earlier and had to make food for everyone. The smell of pineapples and fish hung in the air. It was the warmth of the midday sun that Namine loved the most. The feeling enveloped its way around her like a comforting hug. She let out a soft sigh as she got a bit more comfortable.

The sudden urge to draw made her fingers twitch.

This wasn't a good spot for it, though. She was too close to the others for anything but sand to get onto the paper than color. As much as she loved watching the volleyball match, it was still a bit too distracting. Namine started to get up and casually looked around for a better spot to draw. It didn't take long for her eyes to train to a crow's nest not far from the shore. It was part of a large treehouse that seemed to encompass the island. She looked back at her friends for a moment before quietly leaving them. If anyone noticed she was going, they certainly didn't question her about it.

After getting herself situated at the higher point, Namine found herself gaping at the scene below her. Her friends happily playing on the beach, the light reflections off the water, and even the island holding the paopu tree providing a view so beautiful, so rich, that she wasn't even aware that she was opening her caboodle at first. Seeing the Destiny Islands through Sora's heart was nothing compared to the real thing. Was it possible just to freeze time here and let everything else wash away? She smiled a bit to herself. She did have a way to freeze time, in a way.

The only unfortunate thing was that she wouldn't be able to capture it all. She couldn't encapsulate the smell of the sea, or the sounds of Tidus demanding the girls had leverage over him for some reason. She gave a small smile as she continued to work. Most of her effort was spent trying to reflect the sea around them. A certain impatience came over her as she carefully did each detail. You always had to start with the big stuff, then go down smaller. She was just so eager to capture this moment, anyway she could, that she was always picturing this drawing when it was done.

Namine had to force herself to stop after an hour. Her hands were starting to hurt, and her stomach was growling for food. She cracked her knuckles, barely relieving the tension in them, before putting her stuff away. There would always be time to clean the picture up later. For now, she needed to rejoin her friends.

. . .

And so, we were brought back to our initial setting- the banquet in Radiant Garden.

Namine had thought at first that this would be the perfect opportunity to work on drawing food. But the actual banquet itself had a lot more activity than she was anticipating. There were too many people at the tables to have space to stand at for a few minutes, and she had tried to get a plate for herself to take elsewhere- the allure of delectable aromas wouldn't let her go far without wolfing everything down. So she decided to get a higher view.

To her luck, there was a balcony overlooking the main area. It wasn't blocked off or anything, so Namine quietly crept her way to the top. She found a place to carefully overlook the area and found herself at awe. Even if she was aware that someone was behind her, she probably wouldn't have known it at first.

"Namine!" a voice suddenly said in surprise. Namine jumped a good foot before turning her attention to the newcomer. She relaxed a little when she found it was just Xion.

"Xion..." the blonde girl sighed. "It's just you."

"Am I interrupting you? I'm sorry. I'm not interested in food, and the boys are really going at it, so I really wanted to do this writing exercise where you describe an atmosphere, and..."

"No, no, no. You're fine." Namine insisted. She moved her stuff a bit before gesturing for Xion to sit down next to her. "Here," she offered, "Sit next to me. The view is nice from this area."

Xion smiled in thanks before carefully sitting down. She looked out over the balcony and gasped.

"You're right, this is a good view!" Xion marveled. Her eyes expanding in wonder. "This is the perfect place for Ebba to plant a listening device onto an enemy!"

"Ebba?" Namine wondered. "Who's Ebba?"

At Namine's confusion, Xion's face lit up in a deep scarlet.

"She's my... I think Pence called it 'self-insert.' It's a character that's based on me, but sometimes has a few differences. I've based most of the stories I write on stuff I did in the Organization. It's helped a lot with trying to cope with it. You know?"

Namine shrunk a little. "Yeah..." she agreed in a tiny voice.

"But it's real fun too!" Xion told her, trying to divert the heavy topic a bit. "I base everyone in story with someone in real life! You should see the guy I based on Xemnas... I do a lot of mean things to him."

Namine let out a small chuckle. But then a thought occurred to her.

"You based the characters in your story on us?"

"Of course I did!" she happily declared, her blush growing a bit, besides. "Roxas is Lucas, Master Aqua is head knight Meikai, I even have Pluto as the brave pup Mercury!"

"Do... Do you have someone based on me?"

Xion paused for a moment. Her face going still. However, just as quickly, her smile came back as wide as ever.

"Not yet, but I can!" she decided. She hummed a bit as she thought it over some more. "But I don't have to if you don't want to. I think I'll call her... Syrena."

"Syrena..." Namine hummed in thought. She then gave a bright smile in appreciation. "I like it."

"Great!" Xion beamed. She let out a rather contented sigh before asking, "What about you? Why did you come here?" She looked down at Namine's sketchpad and art supplies for a moment then added, "Did you come all this way just to draw?"

After some hesitation, Namine told her. Carefully, and in her own time. Xion listened intently- only asking questions when Namine was done relating a certain day. When the subject came back around to where they were, Xion seemed to understand much better.

"I get it now." she said.

"You do?" Namine wondered.

Xion gave a thoughtful little nod before explaining, "It's easier for you to draw when it's more quiet. That was how it was before. I think it's great that you're still drawing, even though you started because you were held hostage by the Organization. But the Organization didn't give you the skill you have, Namine. That’s all your own. Kinda like how writing is my special thing. We have ways to just... be ourselves, you know? It's comforting. It's like knowing that, even though we didn't start out in this world with our own goals or ideals, we can make them on our own now. We're free now, Namine. Free to do whatever we want."

Namine absently hugged her sketchbook. "I like that thought." she admitted. "I never really saw it that way before, either. Drawing is something that I know I can do. Something that won't harm others. But you are right- it's what makes me... me. Thank you."

Xion grinned. A wide, bright grin that could have lit up a room. It gave Namine an idea.

"What does Ebba look like?" she questioned, at the same time she pulled out one of her sketching pencils. "Does she look just like you, or are there a lot of differences?"

There was a moment of confusion on Xion's face, then a bright flicker of joy. Not a second after, she burst into a long babble about her character. She even used her arms to illustrate certain concepts and mannerisms. Namine laughed, and did her best to keep up. Xion was so passionate about her characters- it almost made Namine jealous. For the next few hours, Namine did a blend of Xion's idea for Ebba, while Xion herself got to writing about how Ebba got to meet a new acquaintance; a mysterious girl named Syrena, who -while mostly shy- was very well loved.

#kingdom hearts #kh namine #namine #kingdom hearts fanfiction #kh fanfiction #fanfiction #fanfic #kh fan fic #fan fiction #fan fic #xion #kh xion #riku #kh riku #implied namixi #implied namiku #oneshot #one shot #writers on tumblr #no beta

[neonponders]

I FINALLY uploaded again to my first Harringrove fic ever, so here’s an easy way to read ch. 1 since a lot of people here don’t know me from Dracula Has a Mullet haha

Read on ao3 here ~

💋 💋 💋 💋 💋 💋

The discovery that Billy Hargrove is a vampire came at a weird time in a weird way. It’s just not everyday that you walk in on someone fingering Alexandra O’Neil with their teeth—fangs—in her tit.

There were stranger things in Hawkins, unfortunately. Unfortunately? How fortunate is a vampire?

“For fuck’s sake. Really?”

Billy has the grace to extract his freaking teeth with a semblance of being surprised. “I didn’t know you had that kind of mouth, Harrington.”

Steve waves a scolding finger at him with all the gusto of a drunk, and he has the solo cup to justify it. “Put those away! She was homecoming queen last year. Jesus, have some class.”

“You serious?”

Steve downed the last of his beer and Jäger with a grimace, his voice going raspy. “Look, I’m not one to judge a lady’s standards, but really, Alex…Alex?”

The lady in question was so blissed out she looked like one of those unnaturally stupid women in every Dracula movie. Billy actually moved aside as Steve pulled her away from the wall—away from Billy—to try and talk to her. Righting her dress with quick yanks, he covered her gorgeous, if small, breasts and gave her a shake. “Alex! Hey!”

He could hear—could feel it, more like—Billy moving behind him in the dark room. Steve had come up here hoping to claim the guest room before someone used it to hookup from the party downstairs. It wouldn’t be the first time he woke up from a mid-party nap to someone being blown, but sometimes it’s the price one pays for free liquor and an ounce of decent sleep.

“What’s wrong with her standards? Huh, King Steve?”

The voice is right behind him, so close that the damn vampire has to rear backwards when Steve whirls around. “What kind of vamp name is Billy? Wait, that’s short for something—”

“If you call me by anything else, I’ll hang you from the ceiling by your teeth.”

“You’re not charming like vampires,” Steve practically complained. “Gotta work on that. Everyone gossips here. Folks will know you’re toothy like…” He fumbled a clumsy but sharp snap of his fingers.

Billy made a derisive sound before his voice crooned, “Seems like I’m flying just fine under the vampire radar, then.”

He was heaving Alex back up from where she had slumped against the dresser when Steve released her. Steve raked a hand through his hair, thinking. It was a slog through the alcohol, but he surmised that he could not take her away from this guy. Case being: Steve was far too drunk to logically drive, and to where? It was her house.

“You. You gotta go.”

Billy huffed one of his low, mirthless laughs. Instead of setting Alex nicely on the bed, he just kind of dumped her there. She let out a sort of dumb-giddy moan as she face planted a pillow and he faced Steve. “Excuse me?”

“You’re, like, biting people at a party!” Steve realized somewhere between his tone and his slight—or perhaps exaggerated, it was hard to tell at this point—sway, that Billy was far more sober than he felt.

Not the time to play hero but whatever.

Billy slowly stepped toward him. “There’s plenty worse at this shit house than me, Harrington. Worst weed I’ve ever had. And that shit whiskey’s been so watered down, it’s nothing but wheat water.”

“Hey!” Steve was poking two fingers at him before he meant to. “They just renovated the place and I got well paid for the tiling and paint!”

“So you’re the reason everyone’s been tripping over the same spot in the kitchen?” Billy huffed.

“And the whiskey’s not so bad if you chase it with grape juice. It’s like toast and jam water. Whatever, no one’s here for your holier-than-thou, California bullshit!”

Billy was caught by surprise that time. His whole expression lifted, brows and eyes widening as he repeated, “Holier. Than. Thou. That’s the kind of shit you pick up from books. I didn’t know the king could read.”

“Fuck off,” Steve grimaced, really just wanting to get Alex tucked into bed and maybe join her. “You’ve been riding me ever since you got here.”

“I definitely have not been doing that,” Billy retorted and then smiled. “What, you offering?”

“Was she?” Steve cornered, drawing himself up to his full height. Admittedly, not much taller than Billy, but small victories lead to great heights or something.

Billy wiped his mouth and Steve’s eyes plummeted to those lips. “Yeah, she was. She pulled me upstairs, or is that so hard to believe, blue balls?”

“It kind of is, yeah,” Steve said with his hands on his hips. “Alex has asthma. Like, inhaler tucked in her bra at prom in case the slow dance was too much. She’d never get with a chain smoker like you.”

“She would if her high school sweetheart cheated on her with the first college bitch he found.” One of Billy’s eyebrows perked up with his shrug. “I’m a favorite for ladies looking for a rebound.”

Steve grimaced. “Derek cheated? How do you know that?”

“That’s between her and me,” Billy said, stepping forward again. “But I hear you’ve been due for a rebound for a while, Harrington.”

He didn’t want to talk about Nancy. It wasn’t even Nancy, really, but he didn’t want to talk about anything regarding his sex life or lack thereof. Steve diverted, “I want you to leave. Go find someone else to—whatever the hell this is.”

“Well. You’re right here.”

“Not me, dumbass. I told you to leave the house.”

“That’s not gonna happen,” Billy smiled. “What? You’ll let me beat the shit out of you again? We had an audience last time too.”

“I wouldn’t be too cocky about last time,” Steve groaned, beginning to take a step back. “The way I hear it, Jonathan had to mop you off the floor after—”

Billy wasn’t listening. His eyes were on Steve’s neck and the only gut wrenching, instinctive thought Steve had was weapon. It came in the form of a glass lamp, which he wrenched out of the wall to break over Billy’s head.

The hard thud of thick glass hitting before the shatter and glass raining over the floor had Steve gaping at him. Billy stood very still. Way too still. Steve wondered if he had knocked him out, but his legs hadn’t unbuckled yet.

Then Billy lifted dark eyes beneath his mess of a fringe, pupils blown wide. Steve continued to stare at him with the mechanical parts of the lamp still in his hand. “Holy shit, you didn’t even flinch! You’re supposed to dodge when furniture’s coming at you—”

Billy gripped the wrist holding the parts and wrenched him so far that Steve couldn’t react to Billy’s other hand on his pants. Heaving him up by his belt, he slammed Steve onto the table from which the lamp had originated. Music thrummed around them, the very beams in the walls vibrating. Steve defied the laws of his denim pants by folding his leg against his side to kick Billy in the gut. Ragged sounds from both of them went unheard by the party below. Steve slid like a heavy tablecloth to the floor with Billy likewise winded and crouched in front of him.

“Why…” Steve tried, rubbing his chest and hoping his talking lasted long enough for him to decide whether running or trying to pin Billy down was the best decision. “…can’t you just…not do this? Whatever alpha bullshit game you think life is.”

“Some of us don’t want to go through life with your dashing prince crap,” Billy spat.

“You think I’m dashing? I couldn’t tell, I passed out the last time you punched me in the face.”

Billy laughed. “Yeah. You’re just as soft as I remember.”

He was moving again and Steve felt a wild, foolish—downright stupid—thrill to try something else. “You need to leave, man. Really. I know a party of blackout graduates might seem like easy pickings, but Hawkins is different.”

“You don’t know shit about different,” Billy growled. “You’ve never seen grass outside this bum fuck of a town.”

“I’ve been to Disney World. And New York City. There’s gotta be some hospital nurse you can swoon into letting you raid their blood bank?”

He couldn’t tell if Billy was getting angrier or not. The man was always angry, seemed like. “I’m not drinking from a freezer. Now shut the hell up. You’ll enjoy this like your homecoming queen.”

A last ditch effort, diving in the direction of the door, but it wasn’t the first time Billy had been on top of him with murder in his eyes. Steve’s hands fumbled at Billy’s face, but then his wrists were pinned above his head and a panicked whine escaped as Billy’s hot, humid breath found him.

Steve went slack. They always do. Billy had figured out that something in his teeth or saliva sedated those he bit, and more. A whole lot more. It made a good flirt into a hell of a time. Alexandra of the Hawkins Homecoming Court had already come on his finger when Steve, of all people, waltzed right in.

It made hunting annoying. It made hunting fun. He had to be picky; didn’t want anyone he couldn’t look at for longer than three minutes moaning all over him while he tried to feed. His looks did most of the work. The right dash of charm here, a nice compliment there, and then his fangs did the rest.

Steve was hard under him. Billy felt the distinct push of his jeans against his own ass while he slid his fingers under Steve’s nape. Lifting his neck, he made sure the moron’s windpipe stayed open, as well as lifted his meal closer to his mouth—

A strange sound came from Steve. Billy’s eyes flicked to his face, but when that labored breathing sound happened again, he sat up and stared. Steve was crying.

This had never happened before. Those doe eyes that all the girls had ranted about when he first drove into Hawkins were red and squinted as moisture slid over his temples. Billy even checked to make sure he wasn’t sitting too heavily on his dick or something, but the gears of his brain slid into place.

Steve usually wore sunglasses at parties. Billy couldn’t help but huff a laugh. “Are you a drunk crier, Harrington? Hey, I’m talking to you.”

He gripped Steve’s jaw, but his whole head lolled, those eyes barely finding him through the daze. “I just wanna sleep,” he said quietly. Fresh tears raced into his hair as he passed out.

#harringrove #vampire!billy #pondermoniums #neonponders #fic rec #season 3 rewrite #dracula has a mullet

[novelconcepts]

ficlet request: something with nell and theo? they're my fave dynamic. doesn't matter what or when it takes place, but something happy?

There is a trick to Theo the others don’t seem to know. A trick--like a secret knock on a clubhouse door, like a magic word, like a faerie ring. It took Nell years to figure it out, so she can’t much blame the others for not understanding. They’re all busy all the time--Steven with his typewriter, Shirley with her photos, even Luke, drawing and drawing and trying to pretend he isn’t still counting to seven even at thirteen. They don’t have time to figure out little magic spells, little hidden locks and trick doors that pop open if you just bang on them right above the hinges. 

Theo is like a trick door--and once you figure out your way in, you get to stay. Theo is only good at keeping people out, not throwing them back once they’ve made it past her moat, her walls, her army with flaming arrows. 

“Too much Lord of the Rings,” Theo says when Nell points this out, but she doesn’t look mad. Doesn’t look like she’s going to tell Nell to fuck off--that’s Theo’s favorite word these days, sixteen and fuming just about all the time: fuck you, fuck that, fuck off. 

Nell whispers the word to herself under cover of darkness, trusting no one but Luke will ever hear, and trusting Luke to keep it to himself. Luke is quiet these days, distracted, always smelling of cigarette smoke and the sick tang of fear, but he doesn’t tell. He doesn’t tell anyone about Nell’s screaming fits at night, about Nell’s terror of rounding a corner too fast, of climbing a flight of stairs before switching on a light. Doesn’t tell anyone that there’s someone waiting at the top for her too often, someone with a long gown, lank hair, a twisted, horrible neck--

She looks up from her homework, inspects the sprawl of Theo at her desk. Theo, in jeans with the cuffs turned up, patches sewn into the knees, Sharpie’d words and faces staining the denim. Theo, who has long abandoned her childhood affection for hats, but who seems never to be without a pair of gloves. 

Theo, who catches her staring and frowns. “What.”

She always says it just like that, no question mark at the end: What. What, Nell. What are you looking at, Nell. 

“Nothing,” says Nell quickly, and goes back to Lord of the Rings. Theo grunts, leaning over her own work like she thinks Nell is going to copy, somehow. 

“You’re being weird,” she says after a minute. Nell closes her eyes. If she had a dollar, she thinks. Weirdo Nell. Crazy Nell. Hey, Crazy Crain, you still seein’ ghosts? 

“Not sleeping so well,” she says quietly. Theo makes a noise that might be annoyance with anyone else; with Nell, it usually indicates she’s listening, even though her eyes never leave her workbook. 

“When have you ever?”

Nell laughs once, short and hollow. Thirteen is too young, Janet says sometimes, for a laugh like that. A laugh like that belongs to a woman of the world, a woman who has terrors under her belt, who has seen things. 

I’ve seen things, Nell thinks, the image of a woman with a bent neck and an unhinged scream imprinted on her mind more clearly than memories of her own mother. 

“School good?” Theo asks, in that neatly-removed way she has of asking anything. Careful, thinks Nell with amusement too old for her years. Don’t want anyone overhearing you actually caring. 

She can’t be upset with Theo for it. She thinks sometimes that if she, Nell, is the watcher of the family--the one who sees Steve’s agitation, Shirley’s close-lipped anger, Luke’s battering-ram terror--then Theo is the listener. Except Theo maybe doesn’t have space for all that listening. Theo maybe shored up all the cracks in her a long time ago to keep all the dark, dirty, ugly parts from creeping in and filling her up. 

Nell is, as much as she knows how to be, envious. She can’t imagine closing the doors that hang open in her head. Can’t imagine being strong enough to shove against them until no one else can get inside. 

“School’s fine,” she says. “Luke’s flunking.”

“Luke’s always flunking.” Theo raises her eyes, brows narrowed. “You’re not still doing his homework.”

Nell shakes her head, not trusting her tongue. Theo can smell a lie as sure as alcohol on Luke’s breath when he staggers home from the boys he calls friends, the ones who only stopped calling Nell batty because Luke threatened to knock them over. He could do it, she thinks. He’s bigger than most of them now, except Steve, and getting taller every day. Solid where Steve is lean, a tower in broken glasses and rumpled hair. Sometimes she looks at him and wonders if her brother is even still in there, under all the stupid unfunny jokes thirteen-year-old boys crave. Under all the terror Luke has always sheltered beneath. 

He is. He has to be. She doesn’t know what she’d do without him. 

“You gotta let him sink or swim sometime, Nellie.” Theo shakes her head. “Can’t carry him forever.”

“I’m not,” Nell insists. Helping isn’t wrong, she thinks. Everybody needs help sometimes. Even Theo. Theo, who is a trick door, who will let a person in if they’re small and quiet and don’t ask anything of her. Theo, who is a trick door Nell found a way past years ago simply by being willing to sit in the corner with a book, with a doll, with her own thoughts, and let Theo breathe. 

Theo turns in her chair, fixing Nell with such a stare, Nell almost withers beneath its potency. Theo is like someone else, when she looks at Nell this way--like someone Nell can’t quite remember from another life. 

“What?” A question mark, from Nell’s lips. She feels as though she’s always asking questions, and no one ever seems to have answers to any of them. 

“You’re not flunking,” Theo says slowly, “right? You’re not--you don’t need help?”

She says it grudgingly, like she’s not sure anyone should need help. Like she’s not sure she’d have the space to offer it, if Nell said yes. It’s tempting to try. Tempting to say, Actually, Theo, yeah--yeah, I do need help. Only, I’m still seeing her. She’s still following me, and I can’t talk to anyone about it, not even Luke, and I need--I need--

The rules with Theo are simple. Quiet. Stay quiet, stay out of Theo’s way, remind Theo there is space for people who don’t imprint themselves onto her skin and force her to carry them. 

“I’m good,” she says, and smiles. Theo squints. Nods. 

“I was thinking,” she says. “This weekend. I was going to get my ears pierced.”

“You already have your ears pierced,” Nell observes. Theo grins. 

“Again, I mean.” She leans back in her chair, lets the legs pop off the floor. The last time Nell tried to emulate that trick, she’d toppled over in math class and slammed her head on a cabinet. Theo makes it look effortless. “You wanna come?”

Nell almost claps her hands, almost leaps up, almost forgets the rule: quiet. Quiet and easy. The best way to stay in Theo’s good graces is to vanish into the wallpaper. She settles for grinning back. 

“Can I get my ears pierced again?”

“Aunt Janet will be mad,” Theo says, but she’s sixteen, and she’s effortless, and Nell couldn’t care less what anyone but Theo thinks just now. 

Most anyone. 

She imagines Luke clapping a hand to his ear and wincing, the cigarette falling from his lips onto the gravel of the playground. It’s an image more satisfying than she’d like to admit. 

“Please?” she says. Theo shakes her head. 

“Only,” she says, turning back to her work, “if you don’t tell her it was my idea.”

#fanfiction #ficlet #the haunting of hill house #nell crain #theo crain #again never know how to tag crains BUT #I hope this quells some the craving for some nell-theo sister stuff

[chibistarlyte]

PROMPTS! “If you don’t dance with me right now I’m going to…. be…. upset.” TodoBaku 👀👀👀👀

thank youuuuu for the prompt ilu so much 💜💜💜💜

this ended up so much longer than i anticipated...almost 2k lmfao enjoyyyyyy

.

Katsuki had spent the majority of the evening by the punch table, using it as a safe haven of sorts to avoid getting dragged into conversations he didn't want to be part of. He hated social gatherings, especially ones where the point was to mingle and make connections and do all this shit that Katsuki really didn't care about. 

He hated that hero work also involved making nice with big bosses in the business. All the schmoozing and ass-kissing to get sponsors and shit was really not his style. Katsuki preferred to have his work in the field speak for itself, thank you very much.

He'd refilled his punch cup umpteen million times at this point, and yet he still ladled in more of the horribly sweet drink. It sloshed about and leaked over the rim of the clear plastic cup, some of the sticky juice getting all over his fingers.

"Shit," he swore, setting his cup down on the table and reaching for a napkin. He wiped as much of the juice off his fingers as he could, though there was some sticky residue left that probably wouldn't come off until he washed his hands.

"Are you making a mess over here?"

Katsuki could feel his lips already pursing in irritation. He knew exactly who that voice belonged to, and one glance over his shoulder confirmed his worst assumption. 

Fucking Todoroki Shouto, looking all prim and proper in his navy-colored suit, came up right next to Katsuki at the punch table. The half-n-half bastard had a knowing smirk that made Katsuki wanna punch his perfect face.

"Fuck off, you shithead," Katsuki grumbled, picking up his cup and turning to face Todoroki. "I'm busy."

"Busy avoiding everyone, I see," Todoroki answered flatly, grabbing a clean cup for himself and scooping some punch out of the bowl.

"Obviously it's not fucking working, since you're here annoying me to death," Katsuki said, even though out of every person present at this stupid gathering, he'd rather interact with Todoroki.

Which was saying a lot, since Katsuki couldn't stand the guy.

At least, that's what he'd been telling himself since they were fucking fifteen years old. 

"I needed a breather," Todoroki admitted, placing the ladle back in the bowl with a clink. He watched Katsuki as he sipped at his punch, the intensity in his mismatched eyes putting Katsuki on edge.

"What, can't breathe with your mouth against all those peoples' asses?" Katsuki asked, earning himself a choked laugh from Todoroki. The sound was enough to draw Katsuki’s own gaze to Todoroki, and his heart stopped when he saw the mirth on the other man's face.

Katsuki wanted to punch and kiss Todoroki in equal parts. Which was a major fucking problem.

"I've never been fond of kissing asses," Todoroki said with a nonchalant shrug, though the grin at Katsuki’s comment still hadn't left his mouth. "I watched too many people do it to my father, and I just find it stupid. I'd rather earn things on my own merit rather than using false flattery to impress people."

"You and me both," Katsuki snorted, taking a sip of his punch.

They stood together in a companionable enough silence, drinking their punch and watching people mill about the party. A few minutes later, though, the lights around the room dimmed. A rectangular area in the middle of the room was illuminated with spotlights in a rainbow of colors, and there was an echoing in the speakers as the DJ tapped the microphone. 

"Alright, everyone, now that we've had time for the business end of things, who's ready to actually party?" the DJ said into the microphone. Cheers echoed feebly around the room.

The DJ tapped some buttons on their laptop and an upbeat dance song started up over the speakers. "Get your dance on!" they urged the crowd, and sure enough, a few people stepped out onto the makeshift dance floor and began jamming to the music.

Katsuki groaned and clenched his fingers around his cup, causing it to crack around the rim a little. "Fucking great," he muttered, rolling his eyes. 

"What?" Todoroki asked, raising a snow white brow. "Don't like to dance?"

"What the fuck would ever give you the goddamn idea that I do?" Katsuki said.

Todoroki just shrugged, finishing off his punch and tossing his cup into a nearby recycling bin. "Well...would you like to?"

Katsuki squinted his eyes at Todoroki. "Like to what?"

"Dance with me," Todoroki said easily, far too easily for someone who seemed to have a death wish via explosions. 

"The fuck? No!" Katsuki yelled, swiping his arm in a motion that backed up his words. "Why the hell would I ever willingly go dance in front of all these fucking people, least of all with you?"

Todoroki just shrugged again, the bastard, and said, "I thought it would be fun."

"Go dance by your fucking self, then," Katsuki growled, gesturing to the dance floor.

"That kind of defeats the purpose of dancing, don't you think?" Todoroki asked, placing a hand on Katsuki’s shoulder. It took everything Katsuki had not to flinch at the contact—not that it was unwelcome, but more so the idea of Todoroki touching him, even in the most innocent way, did weird things to his insides that he fucking hated. 

"Is there even a fucking purpose to dancing?" Katsuki countered.

"I suppose not…" Todoroki said. "But I still want to dance with you."

Katsuki was going to either faint or combust, neither option being ideal. 

"Fuck off," he growled without much heat, shrugging Todoroki’s hand off his shoulder. 

"Bakugou, if you don't dance with me right now, I'm going to...be...upset," Todoroki said flatly, but his eyes dared to look hopeful.

And that sealed Katsuki’s fate.

"Ugh, fucking fine," Katsuki said, downing the rest of his punch and chucking the cup in the recycling bin. "But only one dance."

"Perfect." Todoroki had a small smile, but that small smile lit up his entire face and Katsuki was really, really going to die right here and now.

He let Todoroki take his hand and pull him to the dance floor, where they found an empty spot near one of the back corners. Todoroki eased right into the beat of the pop song currently playing, nodding his head and popping his shoulders to the tempo. Katsuki, on the other hand, just stood there stupidly, not really knowing what to do. 

He glared at Todoroki, who just chuckled at him in return.

"Bakugou, just move to the beat, it's easy," Todoroki said, taking Katsuki’s hands in his own and swinging his arms from side to side. Katsuki immediately felt his palms sweat and prayed to whatever deity was listening that he wouldn't lose his cool and explode Todoroki’s arms off accidentally.

"This is so fucking stupid," Katsuki complained, if only to cover up his nervousness. 

"It's fun," Todoroki said, as if that statement alone would be enough to get Katsuki to change his opinion.

"Fun for you, maybe," Katsuki mumbled, tensing as Todoroki pulled himself closer to Katsuki.

The song ended and transitioned into something much softer and slower. Katsuki looked around at the other people on the dance floor, watching as they all paired up and stood close to one another. 

It was time for him to dip out. No fucking way he would be able to do a slow dance with Todoroki without making a fool of himself.

"Okay, that was your one dance," Katsuki said, yanking his hands out of Todoroki’s grasp. He immediately felt awful doing so, seeing a shadow of disappointment cross Todoroki’s face. 

"But you barely danced," Todoroki said with a frown. "I did all your dancing for you."

"Not my fault I can't fucking dance," Katsuki said, turning to leave. But he was stopped when Todoroki grabbed his hand.

"Please, Bakugou...one more dance?"

Todoroki’s voice alone was enough to crumble Katsuki’s resolve. Resigned, he sighed and turned back to Todoroki. He purposely did not look at the other man's face, afraid of what he'd see. "Fine. One more dance."

Katsuki practically felt the happiness radiating off of Todoroki when he agreed. A second later, Todoroki adjusted Katsuki’s hand in his grip and settled his other hand tenderly on Katsuki’s waist. Katsuki had to suppress a shiver at the touch.

"Put your hand on my shoulder, Bakugou," Todoroki instructed softly, and Katsuki complied.

Finally looking up at Todoroki, Katsuki felt his heart quicken at the sheer joy in those bi-colored eyes. To think that something as simple as agreeing to dance with Todoroki…

Katsuki let out an involuntary gasp as Todoroki pulled him slightly closer. The taller man swayed them both gently to the soft tune of the music, and just this once, Katsuki didn't mind Todoroki taking the lead. He followed more than willingly. 

The song came to an end faster than Katsuki expected. To his surprise, Todoroki hadn't let go of him, even as the next song started up. It was some sort of guided dance, where everyone gathered in lines and followed the prompts with specific dance moves.

"We should get out of the way," Katsuki said, his voice raspy for some fucking reason.

"Yeah," Todoroki agreed, still not letting go of Katsuki as he pulled them both off the dance floor and back to the punch table.

Katsuki looked at their still joined hands, clearing his throat loudly and praying Todoroki hadn't noticed the flush darkening his face. "Let go of my fucking hand," he grumbled, though he made no move to make Todoroki release him.

"O-Oh, sorry," Todoroki said, looking genuinely remorseful as he let go of Katsuki’s hand. 

"'S'fine," Katsuki said, shoving his sweaty hands into the pockets of his slacks. He gave Todoroki a sidelong glance and muttered, "Can't believe you conned me into two dances."

Todoroki let out a little laugh, much to Katsuki’s relief. "I can't believe it either, honestly. I didn't think you would."

"Then why'd you ask?" Katsuki asked, eyebrows shooting up to his hairline in surprise.

Todoroki gave him a disarming smile that made Kastuki’s go weak in the knees. "Because I wanted to," he said as conversationally as one would talk about the weather.

Katsuki snorted. "You fucking idiot," he said, affection bleeding into his voice against his will.

Todoroki chuckled. "An idiot who just wanted to dance with you," he amended, making Katsuki snort again.

Then, Todoroki leaned forward and gave Katsuki a shy kiss on the cheek. The gesture was over before Katsuki could even compute what had happened. As Todoroki pulled away, all Katsuki could do was blink repeatedly at the taller man in shock.

"Thanks for the dances, Bakugou," Todoroki said, giving Katsuki a small wave before turning and disappearing into the crowd.

Katsuki let out the breath that had been sitting in his lungs for the last eternity or so, feeling himself go lightheaded. His hand instinctively reached up, fingers brushing his cheek where Todoroki’s lips had just been.

"Holy shit," Katsuki breathed out.

He needed some more punch.

#todobaku #bakutodo #todobaku fic #bakutodo fic #hobbitunderthemountain #ally answers asks #my writing

[alittlewhump]

Unbidden - Act 1, chapter 3

Masterlist | Previous | Next

Content warnings: None

"Can't you keep up, ghoul boy?"

Morgan leaned heavily against the trunk of a tree, trying to catch his breath. Blaise was over a foot taller than him and much sturdier, clearly accustomed to regular physical activity. Her brisk walking pace was impossible for him to match. Traveling alone, he'd been able to set his own speed. It was considerably slower.

"No. Your legs... are longer," he panted. She grumbled something under her breath and turned away. Of course she wanted to move quickly. People generally wanted to spend as little time as possible around him. "If we slow down," he suggested, "I won't have to keep stopping." She didn't respond. "Or you could just... not go with me."

"Listen," she said sharply, turning to point a finger at his chest, "I earned my place in the Sisterhood, and I take it very seriously. I have to trust in Kashya's decisions, even if I don't agree with them. I'm going to see this through."

"Very well." He wasn't about to waste his breath arguing, not when it was still so elusive. Blaise peered around suspiciously now that she'd turned back the way they came.

"Hey, what happened to that... thing? Your monster."

He'd had to abandon it some time ago in favour of trying to keep up with the rogue. It made him feel uncomfortably vulnerable even though the enemies had been few so far, and she'd picked them off easily from a distance. She was a skilled archer. "Clay golem. It was too slow."

"I thought your kind raised the dead, anyway."

"Skeletons are faster," he said, watching for her reaction, "but most... don't like them."

She looked away, scanning the treeline. "Don't like you either, so does it matter?"

Morgan didn't know how to answer that. He decided to take it as permission. These fields were ripe with choice, layered thick with dead that had never been laid to rest. He selected two nearby specimens and filled their bones with magic, like pouring a little of himself out of a larger cup into a thimble. Blaise jumped back, nocking an arrow, but seemed to realize quickly what was going on. She scrutinized the skeletons, circling them to inspect all sides. They shuffled, restless - between the freshly renewed energy and whatever remained of their original spirits, they wanted to move. They flexed their bony fingers around the hilts of their swords, which were glowing faintly blue. It cost a little extra effort to manifest a weapon, but it was much more convenient than carrying or seeking out extra gear.

"Looks like these guys are battle ready." She gave Morgan a brief taste of the same assessing gaze. "More ready than you, anyway."

"That's the idea." He was not built for fighting. Or speed. Or much of anything physical, when it came down to it. His delicate frame and poor stamina put a damper on that sort of thing. His magical aptitude, such as it was, was his only strength.

"I mean, your sword is on the wrong side."

"What?" Morgan looked down at the scabbard on his hip, not seeing anything amiss. "I'm right-handed."

Blaise sighed, pointing. "Yeah, I figured that's why you've got your shield on the left. Your sword belongs on the left too. It's easier to draw from your opposite hip." She pantomimed drawing a blade from across her body. It did look easier than the way he'd been doing it, with less wasted movement.

"Ah. I see." He set about fixing his gear's arrangement as she watched, unimpressed.

"Do you even know how to use that thing?"

"Sharp end goes in the target," he answered. That approach had been working so far. Most creatures kept their internal organs in more or less the same arrangement, and damaging those was a quick way to win a skirmish. His constructs took care of most of the threats, anyway - he rarely had to engage in combat himself.

"Very funny." Morgan looked at Blaise questioningly. What was funny? "Wait, please tell me you're joking. Oh, for the love of-" Blaise clasped a hand to her forehead, turning away. "Perfect. I'm out here with a greenhorned... kid, and some dead guys. I hope finding this Deckard character is worth it."

"I'm probably older than you, I'm just small." Morgan always had trouble telling how old people were, but it seemed like a fair guess based on her voice and the way she carried herself. "And the skeletons... remember. How to fight. From when they were alive." Watching them was the way he'd learned to handle the sword, over the course of the month or so it had been in his possession.

"They what?"

He held in a sigh. People often didn't like this part either. "Some echo of the spirit remains in the bones after a person dies. It's stronger if they died suddenly, or weren't laid to rest. When I tell them to fight, they... fight. However they used to. Look." He commanded the skeletons to spar with each other and they sprang into action, blades clashing. Blaise watched them thoughtfully.

"Well," she decided after a few moments, "that's not as bad as I expected. Now let's get going, you've had a minute to catch your breath." She didn't wait for a response before setting off with a long, loping stride. Morgan trotted to keep up, maintaining a respectful distance. He felt cautiously optimistic. Grudging acceptance was among the best possible outcomes he'd dared to consider.

They'd had to stop for the night. Tristram was simply too far to reach in a single day, no matter how fast they walked. Few words had passed between them during that day, which suited Morgan quite well. Conversation so often felt like a maze to navigate, and he could rarely figure out the right solution. His golems responded quickly and easily to mental suggestions, not requiring any specific words to perform actions or be dismissed. It was so much simpler with them. The skeletons from earlier waited obediently for their next orders, standing guard at the edge of the camp.

Silence was easy. He'd nodded silently when Blaise declared she was stopping to hunt dinner, observed silently as she dressed and roasted the small rabbit she'd shot. Now he was eating silently from his own supply of dried meat, watching the archer oil and restring her bow. It was captivating, in a small way, watching people do things expertly. The fluidity of her actions, the balanced push and pull of her muscles as she conditioned the wood, the way the firelight cast shifting patches of brighter orange on the coppery tone of her skin.

"What the hell are you smiling at, ghoul boy?" Her eyes were narrowed suspiciously. He hadn't realized he'd been smiling. He stopped. The question felt like a trap.

"I was just... admiring you," Morgan ventured. If there had been a correct answer, that wasn't it. Blaise crossed the distance between them with a few long strides and grabbed the front of his shirt, hauling him onto his feet.

"Listen close, you disgusting little man, because I'm only going to say this once," she snarled. "I'm here with you right now because I respect my commander. I'm not here for your enjoyment. If you want your cock to stay attached, you'd better keep it in your fucking pants."

"What? No, that's not - I didn't mean-" Morgan stammered, horrified. Had there been a sexual connotation to his phrasing? He definitely hadn't intended one. He'd have to remember not to say that again.

She gave him a shake. "Tell me you understand what I'm saying to you."

"I understand," he croaked. She released him roughly, sending him sprawling in the dirt. He picked himself up gingerly. "I'm sorry, I-"

"Shut up. I don't want to hear it." Morgan closed his mouth and averted his eyes, shrinking back. An apology would have to wait until Blaise was... less furious.

She eventually turned away. "I'll take first watch," she announced with her back to him. "Can't sleep like this."

He wasn't going to sleep either, not after that outburst. It would be prudent to rest, though. He returned to his seat by the fire and settled in to meditate. The skeletons folded down into themselves, collapsing in an orderly manner so they would be easy to raise again later. Blaise whirled around at the noise.

"What are you doing?" She squinted suspiciously at the neat piles of bones.

"Putting them away. They don't stay together very long when I'm resting."

"Resting." Morgan wished immediately that he'd chosen a different way to phrase it. Maybe an explanation would help.

"Golems need magic to hold them together. Once they run out, if they don't get more, they just fall apart."

"Uh huh, sure. 'Resting' is a weird way to say 'sleeping' if that's what you mean, though. So what exactly do you plan to do behind my back all night if it isn't sleeping?"

"Just meditation."

"Why not sleep like a normal person?"

Morgan made the mistake of hesitating, unable to decide how to answer on the spot. Blaise jabbed her bow towards him.

"I said, why not?"

"It's nearly the same thing," he explained, "just with more awareness. I don't usually sleep in unfamiliar surroundings. None of my Order do."

"How do I know you're not lying?"

"I don't lie, but if you don't believe me, I can't make you." He did not look away from her gaze, though he wanted to. It was uncomfortable. But people seemed to equate eye contact with honesty, so he made the effort.

Blaise didn't look satisfied with his answer, but she lowered her bow and turned her back on him again, muttering under her breath. It would do, then. He sat in silence for a minute or so before starting to meditate. Being rested was always preferable to the alternative.

#my writing #story: unbidden

[bbykpoper]

Chapter 1 // Masterlist

GENRE: mafia au, fluff, a bit of smut, a smudge of angst if you squint your eyes hard enough, possible fantasy????

SYNOPSIS: A centuries old feud which kept itself silent suddenly ignites once again as two warring gangs face each other for the first time. A family of established immortals who came together after the war, a band of humans who began remembering their past lives and officials breathing down their neck threaten the world once again as fantasy and reality clash in the form of a young man hell bent on being in the lead and a young woman hell bent on ending this meaningless feud. A story will unfold before you now, questioning your morals as well as grinding your nerves to the edge.

“A princess turned assassin?”

“A coward turned prince?”

Who will survive the last wave of this war?

°˖✧

“My hands are stained with blood... yet again...” There came a soft whisper in the distance as droplets of red fell to the floor.

The strong stench of blood glided to the young man’s nostrils as he observed the scene before him. A body laid on the ground, it’s face unrecognizable as a young woman of short stature stood, her fists slightly bruised and bloody. Her strong willed eyes were trained on him and he extended his arm to beckon her towards him. 

“You’re becoming more vicious in your battles.” He spoke as the young woman moved towards him, jumping down from the ring in which two other men began cleaning the now deceased body. “What seems to be bothering you?”

“It seems our rivals have decided to invade our business inside the ring.” The girl let her companion clean her fists as she observed the body being thrown out. “The boy they sent was said to be a rising star in their ranks, his ego decided to challenge me and he ended up where he is now. It angers me how much they seem to refuse to stay in peace and in their own lanes.”

“It seems that they wish to take over the underworld.” The man’s groaning blue eyes met her dark ones. “Forcas calls for us all. It seems he has had enough of peace as well.”

With a small nod she went after the taller man, covering her face more with the black mask she grew used to. It was rare to see her without it, but today she decided to keep her face free, so that it would be the last thing her poor oponent saw before she beat him to death without mercy. 

“Would you like my jacket?” Her companion asked her as he noticed the attire she sported. A simple sports bra and leggings. 

Not exactly an outfit she would like to show herself in before the head of their family, but the meeting seemed urgent, and she didn’t have time to change.

“No, it’s quite fine.” She simply stated, climbing into the black SUV after him. “The meeting seems urgent, has he finally come to terms with what it is we are to do?”

“By his tone of voice, I would say it’s quite serious.” Her companion placed his hand on hers, his eyes trained on the clear night sky as the stars twinkled in his eyes. “The stars have shifted drastically. Our futures are in danger Fae. Yours more so than ours.”

The woman didn’t say anything as she kept quiet beside him, allowing their fingers to weave together. They both felt each others pulse through their wrist, something which calmed them down and finally the woman could breathe more calmly and freely. The car took a swift turn into the outskirts of town and headed down the road, getting further on the outskirts. Soon enough the car pulled up to a large mansion in the middle of nowhere, two large men opening the doors for the two passengers.

“Good evening Miss, Sir.” They greeted them and both nodded their heads in greeting. “Leader is waiting for you in the war room.”

The small woman rolled her eyes at the mention of the room but still obediently followed their guide. As they entered she felt a sudden warmth crawl up her skin and she moved to the left, evading the overly excited man-child that hit her companion straight on. 

“Why did you move?” He whinned turning to her. “I don’t want to hug Tae, I wanted to hug you y/n.”

“Stop whinning Jungkook.” Her companion spoke up as he helped steady him on his legs. “She did that to tease you.” He rolled his eyes along.

“Is that true?” He went over to her.

“A little bit.” She answered him with a small giggle. “You’re just super cute when you get frustrated.” She pinched his cheeks, laughing when he slapped her hand away.

“I’m a grown man, older than you not to mention and handsome.” He gritted out with a pout. “I’m not cute.”

The trio went further into the large mansion, small talk flowing between them with ease. The room they were going to was located on the first floor but deeper into the mansion, closer to the west wing. The interior was decorated like a European museum if you asked any person that came to visit. Golden chandeliers, paintings lining the walls, an elaborate statue here and there, and of course high doors and even higher ceilings. The young woman and her companion still kept holding hands as they were announced in the room and they took their respected seats at the oval shapped table housing 8 seats that were now finally full.

“Congradulations on your win y/n.” The tallest amongs them spoke up, a soft smile on his features. “I hear the young boy is unrecognizable.”

“Thank you. I tried to not let my emotions take over me.” She spoke up, swiftly taking off her mask. “But then he decided to open his mouth and I just didn’t have the strength to control myself anymore.”

“I’ve heard.” A small hologram began showing the file of the man who she had her fight with earlier this night. “Na Jaemin. The boy wonder of NCT who was supposed to quietly climb up in the ring but he just had to run his mouth next to our little y/n here.” The man laughed. “It seems he was favoured by their bomb expert Taeil.” 

“Does this mean they will retaliate by blowing me up?” The girl raised her eyebrow earning a hearty laugh from her left.

“No no, they aren’t that dumb.” The man who sat next to her had the widest smile on his face, bopping the girl’s nose with little to no force at all. “They don’t know he is dead. Well, not yet at least.” 

“They don’t know?” Tae asked from her right side.

“No. We made sure that people think that we just kindly locked him up somewhere.” A man next to Jungkook spoke up, drawing their attention to him. “For now, we made sure that nobody from that match says a word outside on the streets. We don’t need children on our doorstep seeking vengance.”

“I’m sorry.” She spoke up.

“Why are you apologizing?” The head of the table asked, visibly confused.

“I let my emotions take over and I killed him.” She sighed, slumping in her seat.

“Kid, your job is to kill off the pests we don’t need.” The man with distinctive red eyes spoke up to her, he stood up and walked over to her, earning Taehyung’s side eye. “Everybody that goes up against you in the ring knows what the fate is if it’s your bad day.” The man squated next to her, sliding his hand up her arm to cup her cheek. “Now I know you weren’t having a bad day, so what did he say to you that made you so angry?”

“He commented how he’d easily take me down and make me his little cock hold afterwards.” She said with an unamused facial expression, which had seven different men stare at her with wide, angry eyes.

“I say, we kill the whole den of idiots.” Jungkook said, already on his feet ready to leave.

“Take a seat Azazel.” The head of the table spoke up, silencing the whole room. 

“My poor baby.” The hand gently caressed her cheek, pulling back and standing straight. “What should we do Forcas? The NCT pests have been getting bolder. And now they are trying to take us out from the business we began?”

“I know, though I have this idea which I think you will like.” The head of the table, a tall man with sleeked back grey hair, smirked with danger in his golden eyes. 

°˖✧

On the other side of the city, deep in the abandoned district of Seoul, a group of men decided to come together this night, worried faces painting all of the newcommers. The two people standing guard at the front looked at each other when the final car pulled up and the two men walked in.

“Isn’t it weird that the big bosses are here?” One of the men spoke up.

“Yeah, but to be honest are you surprised?” The other sighed. 

The inside was fairly nicely decorated, the inspiration coming from old Italian mafia films, the distinctive arches holding up most of the structure. The dinning room was currently occupied with seven people, two of them standing and facing each other in a heated argument. The newcommers that took a seat at the table sighed as they calmly looked up at the two standing men in the middle of an argument. 

“Both of you, that’s enough.” One of the men spoke, his dark blue hair neatly styled as his eyebrow stood up in disapprovement. “Lucas, Baby. Sit down.”

With a groan the two addressed sat down with glares still present on their faces. 

“Is everyone present?” He added on, looking over to his right hand man, a tall, fair haired young man.

“Everyone that needs to be.” He answered.

“Good. Johnny you may take over with the report.” The blue haired man said, loosening the tie around his neck while the fair haired man stood up and went over to the head of the dinning table.

“Thank you Boss.” Johnny spoke up and looked over his notes, his eyes stopping at the picture of the masked girl. “As you all know, we’ve successfully infeltrated the underground fight ring of the Bangtan hold and I’ve recieved intel that Na Jaemin has progressed in the ring. Sooner or later he will be going up against their top fighters. However, he has not conntacted his superior so what’s the deal with that Taeil?”

“I don’t know, he had strict instructions to conntact me when he jumped ranks in the ring but he hasn’t.” An aggitated man answered his question, barely looking up from his laptop.

“I’m telling you, the kid is fine. He’s probably just shagging a girl or two. Typical Jaemin stuff.” One of the men who was standing and arguing earlier spoke up, Lucas to be more precise.

“No! He is not.” The other, Haechan cut in. “He’s dead. He was made and they probably killed him!”

“Calm down both of you!” The dark blue haired man, Boss, yelled out. The silence following becoming eerie. “Let Johnny finnish and then on your own time go and beat it out or shoot each other but not now!”

“Thank you Boss.” Johnny smirked, turning to the table and throwing down a letter and a few pictures. “Haechan was right about one thing. Na Jaemin was made and we got this letter delivered today.” The reactions to the news of one of their own being made had them all turn serious, eyes fixed on the pictures on the table. “These are the three Bangtan members responsible for the underground fight scene.” He pointed to the first picture. “Azazel, lead recruiter whose blessing you need to enter the ring or even be thought of participating.” His finger moved to the second picture and his breath withered a bit in his thorat as he said the name. “Fae, leader and fighter. She is the one responsible and the big boss down there. They say nobody survives a fight with her.” His gaze stayed lingering on the picture until Boss cleared his throat and Johnny moved on to the last picture. “And lastly Solas, Fae’s right hand man, always by her side.” Then he raised the piece of paper from the table. “This is an invitation letter to a race they are holding tomorrow night. It’s signed by Forcas, their leader and it states that if we wish to know more information about Na Jaemin’s situation we better show up.It’s addressed to you personaly Moon Taeil.”

“What is their game?” The person in question turned his head to face the taller boy. “Why address it to me?”

“They are aware that Jaemin was under you. Which makes me wonder what more are they aware of?” Boss spoke, glancing at Johnny. “Brain, Johnny and Bulls Eye. You three will visit the race. Take one of the cars if yoou have to. Find out what they want, but be careful. We may never know what awaits at those organized races they hold.”

#kpop #kpop imagines #kpop reactions #kpop fiction #mafia au #fantasy au #johnny seo imagine #johnny suh imagine #nct #nct u #nct 127 #nct dream #way v #nct imagines #nct reactions #nct scenarios #ikon #blackpink #bts

[razorblade180-heated]

Stress

[Smut! You heathens!]

Nighttime, it’s supposed to be the moment the world moves just a bit slower. Not for a huntsman, and certainly not for grimm. Fortunately none have reared their monstrous face on Jaune’s shift. The boy sat on a tree limb that allowed him to see a wide area of one of Anima’s dense forests.

It’s been at least two months since he tagged along with his friends in order to find whatever answers Haven might have for them. There’s been more downs than ups and some days honestly felt a little hopeless. Yet they all manage to find the courage to at least take one more step. He missed safety. He missed school oddly enough. He missed Pyrrha…

The thought of her instantly ate away at his morale, not to mention his attention. That was until the sound of rustling bushes snapped him back into focus. Jaune immediately drew his sword and was ready for whatever awaited.

“Too loud.” A voice said from the bushes, throwing him off. A second later and Ruby walked out of them with her eyes already on his position.

“Ruby? What are you doing up?” Jaune put away his sword. “We don’t switch for another two hours. Also, two loud?”

“Yeah.” The girl nodded before dashing up to the tree limb, nearly startling Jaune off. “You draw your sword too loud. If I was a grimm or bandit then I’d be on guard. Not to mention I knew exactly where to look after it. Might wanna take it out slower.”

“Hmm, never realized how much sound it made.”

“From the sound of it, someone was lost in thought and was caught off guard?” Ruby said with confidence.

Jaune found it a little scary how well her intuition and senses were when it came to anything weapon related. Though it probably has been saving him more than he knows. “Lucky guess. I got lost in thought. Sorry” his voice drifted off, still a bit sad from the memories.

“Pyrrha?” Ruby immediately guessed. At this point Jaune started to believe he was simply easy to figure out. He didn’t even respond because that in itself was a yes.

“One step at a time” she reminded him. “Things will get better one step at a time. Even if those steps are tiny.”

“I know, and it was just for an instant. Pretty sure a good night's rest and a safe place to sleep is all I need to get my spirit back.”

Ruby let out a long groan. “I’d kill for a mattress right now!” She exclaimed into the forest with a surprising amount of force.

“Sssshhhh! You’ll wake Ren and Nora if you’re that loud.” Jaune has seen grumpy Ren. It’s not pretty.

Ruby’s face squinted in irritation. “Trust me, I won’t. They probably didn’t even hear me.” Ruby made her left hand into an ‘O’ shape and repeatedly put her right pointer finger through it.

Jaune raised an eyebrow in confusion before the other one raised in realization. “Oh…” was all he could say as he blushed. “Really?”

“Really.” Ruby bluntly stated. “ They’ve been doing this for the pass week whenever you are well into your shift.” The hooded girl rubbed the bridge of her nose. “I’m sure they are trying to be considerate but they aren’t as quiet as they think. Like, at all.” Her face turned red.

Jaune wasn’t surprised. Ruby was talking about his teammates. Even Ren wasn’t as quiet as he thought whenever he was dealing with Nora. Still… “Good for them.” He smiled. “About time something happened.”

“Too bad it’s not happening quietly.”

“Aw, don’t be like that Rubes”

“They’re like rabbits, Jaune! And not the cereal kind.”

The cursed mental image of a lewd Pumpkin Pete was something he never needed to have, but now it existed unfortunately. “Can you blame them? We’re constantly on death's door and don’t know when it will open again. They’re stressed.”

Ruby pursed her lips in disbelief. “I’m not convinced that’s a good reason. I mean I get really stressed too but you all don’t hear me when I mast-” Ruby immediately shut her mouth, realizing that she was two syllables away from outing herself.

It was too late. Ruby could see Jaune staring at her with his jaw halfway open. He desperately tried to hold back a teasing smirk but it slowly spread on his face. “Ruby…?”

“Shut up!” The girl tried stretching her hood even further over her tomato red face. “Everyone does it.”

“I’m not judging. I just can’t believe you set yourself up like that.”

“I wanna die. Please tell no one.”

“Who would I? The two other people you just told me that were having sex too loud for you to sleep? I don’t think they’d shame you.” He chuckled as she pouted.

“Stop laughing at me. Like you said, there’s a lot going on. I bet you do it.”

“Yep.”

“Really!?” Ruby gasped.

“Duh! Everyone does it, like you said. Why do you think I’m first to get up in the morning? It’s not to do more hair.”

This was an eye opener to Ruby. It made sense for sure. All she could do was nod in acknowledgment and look out into the forest; still nothing to worry about.

Several minutes went by and for some reason, Jaune felt a little awkward. The conversation ended in a weird spot. Now they were just sitting quietly. Jaune looked over to Ruby. Her face was still red but not as bad. That was until Ruby turned to him; her face gaining its redness back before she turned away again.

Jaune might not be able to read in between the lines of a weapon being drawn too fast, but he could read this situation like a book.

“Would you like to share your awkward sexual thoughts? He asked.

“Would you?” Ruby snapped back, anxiously trying to turn the tables.

“Me? I was just thinking things must be stressful if it’s affecting you.”

“Liar, that can’t be all.”

“Are you expecting more?” He took a shallow breath. “Like...how quiet things are? Or how lucky Ren and Nora are to have each other in situations like these? Or maybe…”

“Me.” Ruby cut him off. “Maybe you thought about me? Doing things”

Now it was Jaune’s turn to blush. “That crossed my mind as well.” Jaune discreetly tried adjusting his pants but it didn’t escape Ruby. She had stealing glances at him ever since they went quiet.

Another brief moment of silence fell on them again before Ruby pulled down her hood. “J-Jaune?” She said, her voice a little shaky.

He looked into the girl’s pools of silver. Suddenly his heart felt like it was going crazy. “Yeah?”

“I… am pretty stressed right now.” Ruby whispered, as if she had told a forbidden secret.

She slowly leaned closer to Jaune. For each inch she got closer, he did the same. Right down to the head tilt until finally their lips met. It was short, barely lasting four seconds, but the brief moment triggered a spark that was visible in both of their eyes. Ruby followed Jaune’s lead into a longer, more needy kiss. They both pushed into each other like if the other even considered separating right now. Ruby heard kissing was nice but not this nice. She felt Jaune’s hands grab a hold of her and felt his tongue eagerly try to gain entry into her mouth. Ruby happily allowed it access and surrendered to it.

This was beyond nice. Finally the two came apart for air. A thin trail of spit still connected them before it fell apart. They had only just stopped and yet Ruby missed the feeling, the taste of it all. She was embarrassed about how badly she just wanted to dive into another one. When did she get this needy?

“Wow” Jaune exhaled. “That was…” he couldn’t find the words but he didn’t have to.

“Yeah, it was.” Ruby nodded. She was already leaning in for another embrace until Jaune’s arms came out and held her in place. The action confused her, not to mention gave her some anxiety. Had he changed his mind?

“Umm. What’s the matter.” Her voice shakily said.

“If we do this then we should probably do it somewhere we can’t fall.” Jaune knew himself. Clumsiness at a time like this is a thing he did not need to deal with.

“Oh, hehehe, you have a point.” Ruby grabbed ahold of his body then dashed them down to the base of the tree; Jaune’s back firmly pressed against it. Maybe with a bit too much force. Ruby was trying to keep her excitement in check but she could feel herself get warmer, needier, all for one boy in particular. She really wanted another kiss.

Jaune wasted little time in seeing her desire and happily obliged; taking his gloves off and cuffing her face as Ruby stood on her toes to reach another kiss. It was a bit harder now that he was standing but he bent over far enough for Ruby to claim her prize.

Once again their lips met in heated passion. Ruby’s tongue inviting the blonde’s back into her mouth. A low moan slipped out in the process that caused Jaune to groan in desire. Ruby had never heard him make such a sound but it made her body shiver in excitement. She felt herself getting a little lightheaded when Jaune broke off the kiss again. Ruby was about to protest until she felt his hands slide down her back and firmly grab the girl’s rear before lifting her up. Ruby yelped at the unexpected display of strength, as well as wrapped her legs around him. ‘He’s gotten so strong lately.’ Her hazy thoughts wondered what all that strength could do to her if she asked.

Jaune turned around and pressed her against the tree. She was now a bit taller than him. Jaune leaned into the girls neck and went to work, kissing and biting the sensitive flesh. Her body tensing up with each assault on her.

“Jaune…” his name slipped out in a moan that Ruby could not keep back. The boy felt like he was dreaming; all his actions in a haze of desire and bliss. He was barely talking while his mind only thought about how much more he could touch Ruby’s body.

Her hips began bucking slightly into him as his lips finally reached Ruby’s chest. He’ll admit as much as he loved her new outfit, there wasn’t the foggiest idea on how to remove it; making him a little annoyed. He heard Ruby chuckle before watching her hands loosen some laces and buckles until the corset wasn’t as tight. ‘That should help.’ She thought. Ruby’s face turned a new shade of red watching him grab the top portion and slid it down far enough to free her breast.

The cold air made her jump and the look he gave them made Ruby feel like the sexiest girl in the world. She was never jealous of people like her sister who had bigger boobs by far, but it did get a little annoying knowing someone had to be comparing the two. Jaune took the left one into his mouth eagerly. His tongue being put to work again by swirling around the nipple in the slowest way possible. Jaune could feel Ruby’s fingers grab a hold of his shaggy hair, an effort to keep her body from shuddering.

‘I guess they’re sensitive?’ He thought. Now that he thought about it, Ruby was reacting to everything he had done so far. Not that it didn’t make him happy but he was playing it by ear. Was he just getting lucky? Maybe, or maybe there was a little more than carnal desire spurring her on; there was for him.

Ruby was starting to work up a sweat. Jaune’s attention had shifted to her other breast and all she could manage to do at the moment was bite down a little on her own right pointer finger to keep her moans in check. She was glad Jaune hadn’t removed his chest plate yet or else his favorite hoodie would’ve had a terrible stain on it. Both thighs a little damp from her arousal and her panties all but ruined.

“Jaune…” his name came out ragged. “I think I’m…I’m!!!!” Ruby’s thoughts and words couldn’t keep up with her body, which had started to tense up. Her limbs held onto Jaune tight as he momentarily stopped to see the girl’s eyes shut tight while a surge of pleasure ran through her entire body and dripped from her most sensitive area.

“Did you just…?” Jaune said, a mix of shock and pride clearly in his voice. Ruby said nothing as she opened her eyes. Her face was still flushed; her chest rising and falling from all the excitement as well. All Ruby could do was nod sheepishly, more than a little embarrassed.

“That felt...intense. Really intense.” Her eyes were focused on him with such passion that Jaune felt more anxious than before. Ruby grabbed ahold of his face and couldn’t stop herself from stealing another kiss. This time, a more tender, sweet kiss. One that held a certain spark to it. Jaune’s heart suddenly felt warm and yet, heavy. He knew what this feeling was. The feeling of wishing for more time and safety; that this kiss would have to be enough because it might be all that’s left. It was the way Pyrrha kissed him.

He broke off the kiss suddenly and left Ruby a little startled. The boy looked at her with sympathetic eyes that made her own heart ache as he leaned forward until their foreheads pressed against each other. Strangely, Ruby felt as if the past few moments weren’t needed. This is what was. A moment of real vulnerability, and it made her heart pound.

“You’re not gonna lose me Ruby.” His hold on her became more secure. “And I refuse to lose you.”

“I don’t wanna see anyone else die in front of me. I can’t do that again. Not with the people I love, not with you. This life I wanted, it’s scarier than I realized.”

“Yeah, but I know we can do this. We can come out on top and be the hero’s we dreamed of, together.”

His words soothed her fears. He sounded so confident, so comforting; warm in every single way she needed him to be. A smile began to show up ever so slightly. “Together.”

“So, I guess we should probably be heading back.”

“What?” Ruby looked perplexed. “Why?”

“I just...thought now that you’re calm that you wouldn’t-”

Ruby rolled her eyes playfully and pulled Jaune down to her level to flick his forehead, before sitting him up against the tree. Jaune watched the girl straddle herself on his lap right below his crotch. His entire body felt a little anxious and needy for everything Ruby had to offer and she could tell as her hand grabbed his hard on through his jeans; earning a lustful groan.

“Ruby…”

“Think I wouldn’t return the favor? Jaune I want you just as bad as you want me. More even.” Her face heated up by the sound of her own words. In truth, she wanted to be with him since the dance. She knew better than to burden him with that knowledge right now. Another day, when wounds have had time to properly heal. This moment was more than enough.

Ruby wasted no more time and got busy. Jaune could only watch his partner undo his pants; her eyes showing an intensity he found amusing the moment she got him free.

“....”

“Ruby, we can skip this pa-aaah!” His hands went over his mouth as he felt Ruby’s lips slowly wrapped around his length.

That was the sound she wanted to hear. No way was she gonna chicken out. Ruby glided her tongue to the base of the shaft and back up to the tip. His scent was definitely strong but not overwhelming. Ruby went back down halfway again and again, gaining a little confidence each time until she found a rhythm she could handle.

‘This isn’t too bad.’ Ruby felt Jaune’s legs slowly shift and heard him hiss in pleasure through his teeth. ‘I’m not too bad.’ Ruby thought pridefully. Clearly she was doing something right. It was thrilling; not to mention arousing. Knowing she had this effect on him only made her take more of him into her mouth. Sucking lapping the taste of what she could assume was precum. Wasn’t exactly what she’d call tasty but it wasn’t awful. It was him, and that was only making her more inpatient to move things along.

Jaune on the other hand was trying to contain himself. It could’ve only been several minutes but the pleasure was becoming too much. The warm wetness of her mouth, the sound, the desire to drown in the ecstasy; it was too much. Ruby could feel him start to twitch throb violently.

“Ruby! Move, I’m about to-”

He couldn’t finish his warning, not that it mattered. Ruby ignored his plea to move and took him as far she could go. Letting spurts of cum coat her mouth. Three, no, four strong shots fire off. The taste was way stronger than before and frankly, she’s surprised she didn’t choke. Slowly she came back up while cleaning off the tip just for flare. Adding a pop right at the end before swallowing.

Ruby scrunched her face. “Ugh! That was tougher than I would’ve liked it to be. Not as bad as Velvet described though.”

Jaune was still catching his breath but that caught his attention. “Velvet?”

“Yeah, she was one of the few people I felt comfortable discussing stuff like this with. Tips, tricks, feelings. That kind of stuff.”

“What kind of tricks?” He said with a huskiness that gave Ruby chills.

She smiled as she noticed Jaune was still fully erect. Ruby took his hands and slid them up her thighs. Guiding them towards her more than soaked panties and pulling them down until she freed one of her legs from the soiled cloth. Jaune felt a lump in his throat as he watched the reaper hover right over the tip; he could already feel the immense heat of the girl about to ride him.

They locked eyes for a moment. A nod was given to one other before Ruby impaled herself onto him a little faster than he thought. It took all he had to not to thrust upwards automatically. It only took a moment later before Ruby managed to take him all the way to base. A deep moan came from both of them in shared bliss. Ruby never felt so full, and Jaune never felt this...invigorated.

“You need a minute?” He was hoping for a no.

He got it that answer in the form of Ruby rocking her hips back and forth. “I’ll take that as a no.”

“Damn right you will!” Ruby immediately started picking up the pace.

Jaune felt her coil around him tightly and he couldn’t resist grabbing her ass and timing his thrusts upwards with her movements. Pleasure wasn’t enough to describe what Ruby was feeling. Each thrust rubbed and spread her sensitive walls in a way her fingers or toy ever could. Her crush’s shear length and girth being more than she’s dared take. He had to be a least seven inches and Ruby was feeling all of it.

Her body leaned forward and her right arm braced herself against the tree as her hips kept moving. Making her feel even more turned on as she started hearing the vulgar wet sounds of Jaune pounding into her. His hot breath hitting her still exposed nipples only added to the moment.

“Fuck...ah! Jaune this feels great!” She managed to get out before more longer, lustful moans came from her lips.

He wasn’t used to hearing Ruby curse, or making any of these noises for that matter. It only added to his fire. Yeah he felt good but he definitely wanted to make her feel even better. He tightened his grip on her and started thrusting even harder. Earning ‘eeps’ and ‘ahhh’ frequently. Jaune couldn’t help but watch Ruby leave a trail of her own slick juices as he could feel himself kiss against the entrance of her womb. A grimm could pop out of nowhere right now and he wouldn’t care. He was going to fuck Ruby until she was satisfied.

Satisfaction was met at least fifteen thrusts ago. Ruby felt like her grip on the tree could wrip the bark off of it right now. She had stopped trying to suppress the urge to moan and did it freely with every subtle shift Jaune made inside her. All of her concentration was put into lasting as long as she could, which was far easier said than done. Practically every other thrust grinder just right across the girl’s sensitive clit to the point she could feel the energy in her body threatening to burn out. Even Jaune could notice her hip movements progressively getting sloppier.

“Cum whenever you’d like!” Jaune wasn’t sure if he said for himself or to Ruby. Hopefully one would lead to the other in due time.

“You first!” Ruby said with a bite in her voice that was almost nonexistent. She didn’t know why but something told her to look downwards while she continued riding him. The boy’s eyes were almost mesmerized by the orbs of flesh jiggling in front of him. Ruby was having enough trouble handling the boy but this was about to make her feel like she was soaring.

Jaune opened his mouth and latched onto Ruby’s right nipple again. Her whole body felt like it had basically shut down after receiving rather ravenous licks. Her mouth opened but no words came out as she began to melt with pleasure. Too overwhelmed to move, Jaune leaned forward until she was on her back screaming as he kept pumping powerful strokes into her. Ruby’s back arched and her limbs wrapped around him while his mouth stayed busy on her chest. Her inner walls started to spasm relentlessly until Jaune could barely think. He could keep himself reaching his limit.

“I can’t go any longer!”

Ruby held on to him tightly. “Inside! I want all of you!

He couldn’t find it in himself to deny her request. Jaune thrusted into Ruby four more times before he couldn’t hold back anymore. Ruby’s blushes darkened as she felt Jaune unload inside of her, tipping over the edge once again. Her body shuddered violently and milked Jaune of everything he had to give. She felt every twitch and spurt into which only aided in riding out her orgasm. Any strength Jaune had to support himself had left his body. He didn’t want to lady on top of Ruby but he found himself doing that exact thing.

Ruby watched the boy fall forward on top of her. His chest heaving in synch with hers. ‘He’s lighter than I expected.’ Ruby combined his hair through her fingers. He wasn’t the only one feeling exhausted. Ruby would not have mind staying like this forever. It was taking a lot of strength to not pass out; that would be bad for a number of reasons. It took even more strength to not pour her heart out to him right now.

Jaune somehow managed to lift his head from the girl’s soft chest and looked at her, still completely drained. “Still stressed?”

“Is it wrong I wanna say yes for the fun of it?” Ruby chuckled. “What about you?”

“If I wasn’t tired from traveling then I’d still be moaning your name.”

“Oh, well then...hehe.” It was hard to look at him. “I’m glad I could make you feel that way.”

Ruby tried her best not to overreact or ruin this moment. Her head was swimming with feelings for him to the point she wondered how the words ‘I love you’ didn’t come out when he was giving her the most intense orgasm of her life.

It was a little frustrating to say the least. But that changed the moment she felt his hand grab ahold of hers. Jaune had gotten on his hands and knees right over her and rested his forward right on Ruby’s. She couldn’t help but get lost in those pools of blue for a moment.

“Ruby…?”

“Y...Yes….?” The gentleness of his voice has stolen away all of her confidence.

“I….” he chewed on his lip for a moment to calm his anxiety. “I don’t think I can say it yet, but I hope you know that…” Jaune looked away from Ruby’s eyes. She could feel his hands tremble.

He might not have said it but Ruby’s heart skipped a beat nonetheless. Their feelings were mutual. Ruby reached for his face.

“Jaune, look at me.” She waited patiently before his eyes focused on her again. “Take all the time you need. Until then, I just won’t say it either.” Ruby flashed a smile, “don’t wanna add unnecessary stress right?”

“Stress is the last thing you give me.” Jaune said quietly, as if he was telling her a secret.

Ruby slightly tilted her head up and Jaune read the message clearly, pressing his lips against hers. As far as Ruby was concerned, she could wait a lifetime to hear Jaune say those three special words. She could hear it loud and clear with this kiss, and the many more to come.

#rwby #jaune arc #ruby rose #renora #rwby lancaster #rwby ships

[bubbyleh]

Do I Know You? - Chapter 1

Chapter 1: Black Mesa Research Facility

“Hey boss? I got a bit of an issue when it comes to filling that position in Anomalous Materials.”

“Seriously? You’re coming to me for a simple hiring problem?”

“Well, I figured I should run this by you, first. We got this great applicant, yeah? Perfect, could do great things in the field, blah blah blah, stuff like that. Anmat seemed real excited about him.”

“So why are you here?”

“See, as a precaution, I run potential hires through the system. And I can’t fathom why, but this guy is on our blacklist.”

“And Anmat wants to hire him anyway?”

“I’d be lying if I said he wouldn’t be a valuable asset to the company.”

“Let me check. What’s his name?”

“Isaac Kleiner.”

“Alright… Kleiner… Isaac… Oh.”

“What is it?”

“Yeah, this is old. He got a pre-emptive blacklisting almost forty years ago due to a project in Biological Research, but that’s been pretty much abandoned by now. You can give Anomalous Materials the go-ahead to hire him.”

“Thanks, boss. I’ll let them know immediately.”

- ○ -

Working at Black Mesa is, honestly, not at all what Isaac Kleiner was expecting.

The entire facility is a shoddy mess of occupational hazards and shoddy wiring, to the point where a single disaster could honestly take down a whole building. Kleiner’s been on more than one shaky tram ride that he was convinced would end with him and the other passengers falling to the ground below. It’s only thanks to the hundreds of lengthy NDAs and thousands of dollars of hush money that Black Mesa hasn’t been taken to court.

Also, the supervisors here are terrible. They push their workers to their breaking points, just trying to wring as much productivity out of them as they can before they have to spend all their vacation days for a break. It’s not an unheard of practice in research facilities, but still, Kleiner thinks they’re way more extreme than anywhere else.

But the people… the people at Black Mesa are something else. And in a break from the trend, that’s not a bad thing.

For example, Harold Coomer! Kleiner met him his first week, which was natural, considering they work in the same department. Anomalous Materials is a bit of a rigid working environment, but despite his clearly robotic arms and legs, Coomer seems friendly enough.

There is one incident, though.

Kleiner is struggling to yank his lab coat from the back of his locker. He’s starting to regret not organizing beforehand, but he supposes he can always do it later.

That’s why he’s a bit distracted when Coomer glances into his locker as he passes. And it’s the reason he’s so startled when he shouts, “Oh, what a lovely pair!”

At first, Kleiner assumes—or rather, hopes—that Coomer is talking about the photo of his parents that he has perched on the upper shelf. It is, after all, the bigger of the two frames he has, so obviously it would draw more attention. But no, when Kleiner turns to face Coomer, he finds that he’s fully focused on the smaller picture, where a small boy sits beaming, holding an infant in his lap.

“Is that of you?” Coomer tilts his head as he asks.

Silently, Kleiner glances between the picture and Coomer. Making a decision, he reaches from the picture, holding it out to Coomer.

He points to the boy, a slight smile on his face as he says, “That’s me. I was around five and a half, here.”

“Really?” Coomer seems to inspect the photo for a moment. “You know what? I think I can see it.” He looks back at the photo. “Who’s the baby, then?”

“Ah, that’s-” Kleiner swallows down a few emotions. “That’s my sister, Bethany. My only sibling.”

“She looks like quite the darling,” Coomer comments, and if that doesn’t bring back the decades of lost time…

“Goodness, no,” Kleiner laughs breathlessly. “She was the crankiest little baby ever. Hated everyone outside of our family, could barely get to sleep…” He remembers late nights, standing by his mother with his hands over his ears as she fruitlessly tried to get Bethany to sleep. In those moments, he used to wish desperately that she would just disappear, so the three of them could finally get some sleep.

Well, half of that wish came true.

“That picture was a bit of a fluke,” Kleiner explains. “She, er… we lost her a few weeks after.”

Coomer’s face drops. “I’m sorry, I wouldn’t have-”

“No, it’s fine.” Kleiner places the picture back in his locker, closing it firmly. “I like to remember her.”

- ○ -

Kleiner meets Coomer’s partner about a week later, though only briefly. He’s sitting in the Anomalous Materials office, Coomer stood in front of him, reading over his equation. He rubs his chin and glares at the mathematics.

“Something’s clearly wrong with it, but I can’t figure out,” Kleiner sighs. “I’ve read the whole thing over ten times.”

“Maybe you should take a break and come back to it later,” Coomer suggests, almost hopefully. “A clear head could help your productivity.”

“I need it done by tomorrow, as well as about ten other things,” Kleiner frowns. “If I don’t finish it now, I might forget it.”

“Well, you could-”

They’re interrupted by the office door bursting open along with a shout of, “HAROLD!”

Standing in a doorway is a lanky figure, taller than either of them. They’re wearing a sweater and jeans and, notably, no lab coat. They’ve got thick glasses, just like Kleiner. They have the same brownish-black hair as him, too, even starting to gray in the same way Kleiner had a few years earlier.

Despite being a stranger, they’re eerily familiar.

Coomer’s reaction shocks Kleiner out of his weird deja vu. “Ah, Bubby! What are you doing here?”

As they approach, Bubby—apparently—produces a brown paper bag. “You left your lunch at home.”

“Oh!” Coomer realizes, taking the bag. “I guess I did. Thank you, darling.”

Bubby mumbles something to themself, but Coomer doesn’t seem to listen as he wraps an arm around their hips, pulling them to his side. “Bubby, this is Isaac Kleiner!” He gestures towards the man. “We work together here.”

Finally, Bubby seems to notice Kleiner. They squint at him, almost appearing confused by his presence. But that barely lasts a few seconds, as they quickly mutter, “Uh, hi,” and look away.

“Kleiner, this is my partner, Bubby,” Coomer explains. “They work in Chemical Engineering, but they’re off for the week since the trams are offline.”

“It’s, uh-” The sense of familiarity returns. “It’s nice to meet you.”

Bubby shifts on their feet. “They said I had to be in and out, so-” They catch sight of the paper in Coomer’s hand. “You wrote x instead of a.”

And after pressing a quick kiss to Coomer’s head, Bubby is gone.

Coomer looks back at the equation. “Well, look at that! They’re right!” He hands it back to Kleiner, pointing out the error.

Almost mindlessly, Kleiner takes his work back. Something about the encounter leaves him unsettled.

#half life #hlvrai #half life vr but the ai is self aware #isaac kleiner #boomer #hlvrai boomer #dr bubby #bubby #dr coomer #do i know you #my writing

[recurring-polynya]

Apparently, if you send someone an ask, but then deactivate your Tumblr, the ask gets deleted. I got this from our old friend k-rukias, and fortunately, I already had it copied over, but anyway, that’s why this isn’t in the standard ask format. Anyway, k-rukias, I hope you’re still out there somewhere and there’s some way you can see this!

k-rukias asked:

you grasp byakuya’s character SO PERFECTLY it always makes me laugh out loud, especially your “Uncle B” stories. i’d love it if you could write more of the kuchiki-abarai family+ichika(maybe throw in some byakuya&toshiro being bffs) I SWEAR YOU DO THE DOMESTIC GENRE SO WELL one can tell you have kiddos 🥺💕

“Give Uncle Byakuya a big hug, Ichika,” Rukia instructed, stifling a yawn. “You’ll see him again on Saturday.” Despite the cheer in her voice, the second Ichika’s tiny face was buried in Byakuya’s chest, she shot her brother a thumbs up and a quizzical look.

Byakuya gave a very firm thumbs up in return. His inconsiderate adjutant was having yet another birthday, and Rukia had asked if they might hold a small family celebration at the manor this year. Byakuya wasn’t sure why. Surely the man would prefer not to see his commanding officer on his own birthday, but Byakuya loved his sister and had made the arrangements she requested.

Ichika finished rubbing her sticky cheeks all over the silk of his kimono. “Here, Uncle B,” she said, handing him a folded piece of paper. “It has to be just like this, okay?”

“Of course, my blossom,” he promised.

“No, it doesn’t,” Rukia mouthed to him behind Ichika’s back. “Okay, kiddo, you ready to go home and see if Daddy missed us?”

“I bet he fell asleep on the couch again!”

“We’ll find out! See you, Saturday, Brother!”

“Enjoy the rest of your evening, Sister,” Byakuya entreated her.

“If you have any questions, please call me,” she begged. “Or send a Hell Butterfly, or however you communicate with people these days.”

“I am very good at Text Messaging,” Byakuya assured her.

Rukia gave him an Extremely Disrespectful Look, which he tolerated, because she looked very much like Hisana when she made it.

“I will not have any questions.”

As his beloved sister and niece took their leave, he unfolded Ichika’s piece of paper.

He stared at it.

He had so many questions.

--

“I do appreciate that you texted before you came over,” Captain Hitsugaya informed him stonily. “But next time, could you text, like, more than a minute before you show up? Maybe wait for a reply?”

“Is now not a good time?” Byakuya asked. “Have I interrupted Squad 10 napping hours?”

“I just… would have picked up first,” Hitsugaya grumbled, trying to keep a stack of paper from falling off his desk. “And it’s always Squad 10 napping hours.”

Currently, Lieutenants Matsumoto and Kuna were sprawled out on the Squad 10 couches, snoring quite loudly.

“I have seen it worse in here,” Byakuya replied. “I am your,” he swallowed, “friend, and I accept your imperfections.”

Hitsugaya glowered at him. “What do you need?”

Byakuya spread Ichika’s instructions out on Hitsugaya’s desk. “Can you tell what this is?”

Hitsugaya’s eyes scanned the drawing: the lumpy creatures that might be rabbits, the crayon scribbles, the puddle of glitter. “Is this a test?”

“If it is, I am in danger of failing it,” Byakuya admitted.

“Ichika made this?” Hitsugaya guessed.

“I imagine the glitter gave it away.”

“Can’t you get Abarai to decipher it for you?”

“I cannot. I am hosting a ‘Surprise Birthday Party’ for him this weekend, and this represents Ichika’s vision of it. I need to identify the items in the picture so I can have them for the party.”

Hitsugaya nodded slowly. “Ah. These are probably balloons, then?”

Byakuya straightened up. “Balloons or lanterns? Or possibly the overhanging blooms of the wisteria?”

“You’re overthinking it. She’s five. It’s balloons. Can you ask Rukia?”

Byakuya’s mouth turned down at the corners. “Ichika’s art style bears a certain… resemblance to her mother’s. I am worried that if I ask for help…” he trailed off.

“Gotcha,” Hitsugaya replied brusquely. He sucked his teeth, and poked a finger at the page. “Well, this is obviously Abarai.”

“Yes, he is always distinguishable by virtue of the fact that she draws him three times as large as the rest of us.”

“Also, he’s the only one with pink hair and stripes,” Hitsugaya replied, raising an eyebrow. “Oversensitive, much?”

“I am only three inches shorter than he,” Byakuya grumbled. “The hair makes him look taller.”

“You are not getting any sympathy here, give it up,” Hitsugaya grumbled back. “He’s got a hat on, I think? A party hat?”

“Yes, I did get that far. We are all wearing hats.”

“Abarai also appears to either be wearing a lei, or he is in bankai.”

“A lei?”

“A flower necklace? We should have some around here, from the last time Matsumoto threw a luau.”

“Ah, thank you,” Byakuya replied. He had not actually expected Hitsugaya to be quite this helpful, and he wondered how he was going to repay the man’s patience in this matter.

“All this stuff on the table is… food, maybe? Gosh, I cannot tell what any of this is. These things look like fish, but they’re brown… taiyaki, maybe?”

“Oh, yes, I had figured that part out as well. Even I know that taiyaki is Abarai’s preferred celebratory food. I actually have a specially made mold--”

“You should make normal ones. Fish ones.”

“He likes Admiral Seaweed taiyaki.”

“It’s the man’s birthday, don’t make him pretend to like your weird taiyaki.”

“They have more crispy bits because of the arms and legs! He told me that specifically, in a complimentary manner!”

Hitsugaya gave him an Extremely Disrespectful Look. Unfortunately, the young man did not have the advantage of resembling Byakuya’s beautiful late wife.

--

Byakuya was distinctly Not Sure About This, but Hitsugaya had hit a wall and decided they needed to bring in ‘a bigger gun.’

Byakuya hadn’t actually set foot in the Squad 5 offices since Aizen’s departure. He didn’t have a lot of nice things to say about Aizen, generally, but at least the man had a classical taste in decor. Now, his former workspace more closely resembled the interior of an eclectic Living World coffee establishment for beatniks. One wall (but not the others) was painted orange, and covered in strange, stylized art that appeared to have been done by the captain and lieutenant themselves. The rug hurt his eyes. There was a beaded curtain.

“I don’t know why you thought I was going to have any insight on this, Shirou,” Lieutenant Hinamori grumped, squinting at the picture. “Renji’s the only one who can decipher these things.”

Byakuya could not help feeling the tiniest bit smug that he was not the only one who was sassed by his loved ones.

“Well, I figured you’d been to an Abarai birthday party or two,” Hitsugaya excused.

“Yeah,” Hinamori replied. “The grown-up ones. Unless this thing over here is supposed to be a tokkuri, and Captain and Lieutenant Kuchiki are arm wrestling, I can’t help you.” She frowned. “You’ve been to an Abarai birthday party, haven’t you?”

“They’re a little wild for my blood,” Hitsugaya excused. “And nobody likes drinking around their captain. I’ve been, but I usually leave before he starts bench-pressing people.”

“There are captains who come,” Momo pointed out. “And I doubt your presence would slow Matsumoto down, anyway, she’s impervious to that judgemental thing you do with your eyebrows.” She contemplated the paper. “What are these weird marks? Is this a speech bubble?”

“We couldn’t figure those out,” Hitsugaya admitted.

“Lemme take a look,” Captain Hirako, who was unfortunately present, announced. “Sometimes you gotta look at things from a different perspective.”

He turned the paper upside down. He turned it backwards. He turned it right side up, and turned his head sideways.

“I got nothing,” he replied. “Kid’s got good style though. And I think Momo may be onto something, actually. I went to Abarai’s last birthday party, and Kuchiki the Younger beat me at arm wrestling in an embarrassingly short amount of time.”

“It’s your noodle arms, sir,” Hinamori supplied. She stuck out her lower lip. “A different perspective, though, is not a bad idea. You know who you should go ask?”

Byakuya did not want to hear the answer.

--

“This is dango. This is katsudon. This is shaved ice.”

Byakuya was frantically taking notes.

“How… how can you tell?” Hitsugaya gaped.

Hachigou Nemuri regarded him with her serious, dark green eyes. “I have seen many of Abarai-chan’s drawings.”

Akon made a grumbling noise. “Abarai-chan’s drawing fuuuuu---udged up Nemu’s image recognition subroutines for months. I mean, it was a good thing, in the long run, I ended up implementing an entire art appreciation suite of dynamically created subroutines. It took me forever to figure out why she couldn’t recognize normal drawings of things, though.”

“What are these marks?” Byakuya asked, pointing to the funny squiggles hanging above everyone’s heads.

“Abarai-chan can’t write yet,” Nemu explained.

“Yes, I know that,” Byakuya replied.

“Writing is a form of communication that utilizes mutually understood symbols to convey an idea from one party to another,” Nemu recited. “Abarai-chan does not yet grasp the importance of a common dictionary in the delivery of information.”

Akon scratched his neck. “You’re saying Abarai-chan doesn’t know very many kana, so she just makes them up.”

“Correct,” Nemu agreed.

“Can you read them?” Hitsugaya asked hopefully.

“She does not employ a self-consistent character set.”

Byakuya and Hitsugaya’s eyes darted to Akon, who was unwrapping a piece of nicotine gum.

“She makes it up as she goes along,” he elaborated, cramming the gum in his mouth. “There is no translation.”

“Momo thought it might be a voice bubble, like in a cartoon,” Hitsugaya mused.

“Maybe it’s just a title to the piece,” Byakuya surmised. “Father’s Birthday Celebration’, for example.”

“Abarai-chan calls Lieutenant Abarai ‘Daddy’, not ‘Father’,” Nemu corrected.

“It was an example,” Byakuya bit off testily.

“This could be cherry shaved ice or strawberry shaved ice,” Nemu added hopefully. “Abarai-chan likes strawberry shaved ice, but I prefer cherry.”

“You are not attending this party,” Akon reminded her.

“I just thought Captain Kuchiki might be interested to know,” Nemu sniffed. “In case he felt like buying me a shaved ice. As a thank you for my services.”

--

Byakuya examined Ichika’s diagram and compared it to the celebratory items currently marring the beauty of his garden. He had the balloons. The hats. The dango. The taiyaki. Both strawberry and cherry shaved ice. “I think I have replicated everything,” he declared. “Have I missed anything?”

“You don’t have rabbit ears,” Hitsugaya replied dryly.

“The rabbit ears are symbolic,” Byakuya explained. “I am wearing the lei. You should put on a lei.”

“I am not putting on a lei. I am not in the picture at all, actually, so I think I should probably scram.”

“You could stay,” Byakuya replied, feeling a little odd about it.

Hitsugaya raised an eyebrow. “Isn’t this a family thing?”

Byakuya blinked. “Family gatherings are large, mandatory, and unpleasant. This is a small party and I am very fond of the Abarai.”

Hitsugaya just stared at him.

Byakuya squirmed. “The fact is… I am not good at things like this.”

“Of course you are. Ichika adores you. Rukia and Renji do, too.”

A normal person would have wrinkled their nose, or sucked their teeth, but Byakuya wasn’t really into making facial expressions, so he just made his usual one and stared off into the middle distance briefly. “Hisana was very good with people. At these times, I often think about how easily she would host a birthday party for a brother-in-law, how natural she would have been with Ichika. She loved children.” He contemplated the drawing. “I am sure she would have interpreted this perfectly, text and all.”

Hitsugaya, who did make facial expressions, blew air out of his cheeks. “If it makes you feel better, I can stay.”

“I would, very much, appreciate it.”

Seike, Byakuya’s chief retainer, shuffled out onto the engawa. “Lord Kuchiki, the Abarai are here.”

“Please escort them out here,” Byakuya replied, plunking a hat on Captain Hitsugaya’s head, and one on his own.

“It’s so unusual for Uncle Byakuya to invite us over on a Saturday,” Byakuya could hear Rukia’s voice before he could see her. His impression was that the ‘surprise’ involved in this party was a figleaf for Ichika’s sake. Abarai was a fool, but he wasn’t an idiot.

“What is this?” Abarai exclaimed as he and his family stepped through the doorway, although he did a genuine double-take at Byakuya’s flower necklace.

Ichika’s face lit up as she took in the decorations, the food. But then her expression turned to dismay at her uncle, standing still and awkward. He had missed something. It was the text. It was important after all.

Hitsugaya’s elbow jammed into his ribs. “Surprise!” the younger captain yelled. A voice bubble! Of course!

“Surprise!” Byakuya added, belatedly.

“Happy Birthday!” they shouted together, with Rukia and Ichika joining in a beat later.

“Well, I’ll be!” Abarai did his best impression of a surprised person.

“Were you surprised, Daddy!” Ichika asked, jumping up and down and tugging on her father’s hand. “Were you?”

“I was very surprised,” Abarai reassured her.

“Why is Captain Hitsugaya here?” Rukia asked, utterly befuddled.

“I heard there was shaved ice,” Hitsugaya excused very quickly.

“Uncle B did all of it, Daddy, just for you! Isn’t it perfect?”

“Of course it is,” Abarai snorted. “If Uncle B did it, how could it be otherwise?”

#my writing #byahitsu brotp #kuchiki-abarai family feels #this is over 2k words it's no wonder i can't finish out my drabbles #happy birthday renji! #it's renji's birthday until i say it isn't