WarmWorm

Unicorn!Reader x Shire!Simon x Kelpie!Soap

Reader who’s the prettiest fucking thing Simon has ever seen — eyes shining, the glossiest hair he has ever encountered and he knows that such pretty things are not for the likes of him.

But he can’t help but stop his work, coming closer to the fence — all heavy bulk and rolling muscles, deceptively soft steps as he watches you.

“A bit lost, luv?”, he hums out, licking his cracked lips when you turn to him, his breath stalling because well, fuck him, that’s an actual unicorn. Not just a pretty thing, are you?

You don’t come close, watching him out of the woods, even your skin glowing and god, he can bet his left arm you are soft as a cloud to the touch.

He can bet you will look so so good under him. With him.

Simon tilts his heavy head to the side, huffing out air, splintered lips curling upwards. Skittish. It’s good that you are careful, would want to make it too easy for him, would ya?

And then there’s Soap — unruly power and raw hunger and no fucking manners whatsoever, surfacing out of the lakes and streams, always a little too close for your comfort, always ready to invade your space.

Getting you closer and closer to the water, his carefree demeanour just as deceptive as Simon’s softness.

“Ye wound me, bonnie. Ah never would’ve done anythin’”, he swears when you bristle and step back into safety of the woods, his eyes on you so fucking hungry, his eyes never leaving you.

Soap can smell you a mile away, can feel you coming with a sixth sense, always there whenever you need to drink. Or wash, for that matter.

Soap who can also smell someone else’s scent mingling with yours, brows furrowing. Who’s there trying to take what’s his? Not fair, he was here first, he saw you first, he’s getting you first.

But Simon is bigger and Simon is heavier and Simon is older — glare as heavy as his kick is.

Soap just might be in love.

He lives on a large, ranch like property near the woods. One day while you’re outside at the edges of the property, a sudden downpour comes. A sudden bolt of lightning and thunder makes you take off in a bad direction, until you’re lost and soaked. Wailing for help.

Enter Simon. A stray (or maybe even a mountain lion?) who’s spied you from the tree line from time to time. You’re scared of him, but he’s so big it’s not hard at all for him to scruff you and drag you back to his den.

He sets you on some soft furs to soak up the water, using his tongue to groom you (a little haphazardly, as it’s apparent he barely even grooms himself). Holds you tight to his chest, fingers bloody as he feeds you strips of meat from his most recent kill.

Imagine dying next to Ghost. Alongside him. In bed, asleep together, and it’s no one’s fault. It wasn’t a targeted attack. A gas leak. There was no pain, no panic, nothing. Tragic, before your time, and wrought with the impotent agony that can only come about when there’s no target for revenge.

There are worse things, than being a trapped spirit with the man you loved in the house where you loved him. Despite how all of the world has gone quiet, you can still feel him, and he can feel you.

You can still make love.

But every so often, when he takes you from behind, you feel this sharp, burning pain in your back. You know it’s his doing, but something about him has been so… hard to read, since you both died. Even though you don’t have anything left to lose, he holds you tighter than he ever did before. Won’t leave you alone for a moment. There’s terror in his eyes. You don’t understand it— he died in peace. None of the things that haunted him in life can follow him here. But you don’t have the courage to ask him.

It means you are not a safe person to say "no" to, or set a boundary with. It means you are not a safe person to talk to about their feelings. And that is something to work on fixing.