Children of the Water (Yandere M. x F. Reader)

Night Whispers

A/N: As usual, I would recommend putting the video on loop.

Knees to her chest, she rested her head on them and breathed out and in slowly. It was (f/n)'s eighteenth birthday, yet, for the entire day, she had been locked away in her room. During the day, she had been treated the same as well, and she figured that her parents might've forgotten about it. After all the years of locking her away, it wouldn't surprise her.

Throughout the day, however, she did hear her name being called by that gentle, enchanting voice. Over the years, she had noted that the boy's voice grew with age and sounded like the voice of a young man. It would make sense for the boy to grow older as well since he did look human in some ways. She wondered how he looked now.

Deciding to pick herself up, she headed over to one of the windows in her room. The whispering was growing more frequent and louder, and there was clear urgency to the male's voice. She wanted to escape, but going through the halls proved fruitless. Still, the windows didn't provide an easy route either.

She pressed her hands to the glass and looked to the boards. It had been too long since she last gazed at the sky. (F/n) desired those boards gone. When she stared at the wood longer, she noted the rot on them. Those boards had been up since she was a child, and the moisture in the sea air would've made the wood weaker over the years. There was also the rain that would come about once or twice a week.

If she broke the glass, she could charge at the wooden boards and possibly break through them. Of course, she was two stories up, so it would be best to have something to prevent her fall. She would have plenty of time to prepare this since the maid had made her last stop for the day.

While she began her operation, the male in the ruins stood at the edge of them. He needed pools of water nearby to live; he needed to have at least his feet in water at all times. Moisture in the air or rain wouldn't suffice. If there were puddles, he could hop from one to the other, but the downward slope of the village street to the ruins prevented that. There were also the small spaces in between the stones of the street. This allowed the water to be absorbed by the dirt below, hence the grasses that would grow between the stones, and this only made water collections harder to form.

So, how was he supposed to travel to her? He had increased the times that he would call her name and the volume of those whispers, but that did him no good. The male could risk travel to the village, but he didn't know how long he would last before he collapsed to the ground and died.

He paced around in the water, trying to come up with something. One way or another, he would have her tonight. There was the benefit that he knew which house was hers. Those villagers did gossip about her family, and how the boards on her house looked unseemly. Clasping his hands behind his back, he stared back out at the village. If he could transport the water in some way, he might have a chance to make it to her.

Unfortunately, there wasn't a water carrying device in the ruins. Hearing wheels on the stone street, he turned towards the sound and watched a late night cart come down the street. A draft horse led the wagon and its rider. Occasionally, there would be traders who would stay all day and leave in the night.

Focusing on the wagon part, a smirk began to form on his lips. Quickly, he made his way over to the cart. This rider obviously took the tales of the ruins lightly since he rode close to them. He should survive long enough to step out of the pools for a few seconds. When he reached the wagon and its rider, he leapt from the waters and crashed against the rider.