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merakiui · 9 months

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The Most Dangerous Game [2]

yandere!jade leech x (female) reader cw: yandere, nsfw, slight hints of dub-con, coercion, manipulation, unhealthy behaviors/relationship, friends with benefits, obsession, unrequited/one-sided love, brief angst, choking, pregnancy, implied baby-trapping, characters written as 18+ note - it is never a good idea to make mutually beneficial arrangements with jade leech. // split into two parts due to size. read the first half here.

There’s a certain air about you when you enter the Mostro Lounge.

Radiating confident satisfaction, a cutthroat type of on-top-of-the-world aura that replaces any first day jitters attempting to rise to the surface, you beeline for the kitchen. You know the lounge’s layout well enough—not only as a customer who spent an obsessive amount of time observing these details, but also as Jade’s diligent taste-tester. You’ve been let into the lounge kitchen after hours more often than you’d like to admit, but it only serves to bolster your mental fortitude.

I’m going to kill it today, you assure yourself. Prove to Azul that I’m capable and get closer to Floyd in the process.

As if having read your thoughts, Floyd intercepts you. “Heyyy, Shrimpy really showed up!” He circles you like a curious shark, a smile slowly spreading on his lips. “Lookin’ good.”

You reward his ogling with a twirl in your new uniform, which had been conveniently waiting at your doorstep this morning—wrapped in a pretty box with a big bow. The card had simply read: A uniform to celebrate your newly acquired Officially Octavinelle status. You didn’t have to read further to know who signed the message, and the note had been swiftly torn in two and tossed into the trash while you lamented to Grim and the ghosts about a certain stupid, sly eel.

“Aren’t I just the spitting image of scummy scams and the deep sea?”

“The most spittin’ image anyone’s ever spat,” he agrees with a silly giggle. But then something serious passes over his features. He plucks your hat from off your head and leans in close. “It’s Shrimpy’s first day, so I’m gonna letcha in on a li’l somethin’, kay?”

Out of instinct, you shrink away. His voice is a dangerous whisper, lined with threatening undertones. “Anyone gives you any trouble, you come to me, got it? Don’t think you can’t say nothin’ cuz you’re new.”

“Oh. O-Oh!” You nod hastily, too astounded to rely on your usual quick-witted coherency. “Thank you… I appreciate that.”

Like a flipped switch, he brightens and plops your hat back on your head. “Man, I’m pumped! It’s gonna be so much fun with Shrimpy here!”

You adjust your hat and skip after him, not wanting to slip out of his orbit. “So what’s the plan for today?”

Floyd grins and holds a card between his fingers like a magician readying to reveal his next trick. Foolishly, you assume it’s a love letter up until you watch him scribble something down on a second card. He passes the unmarked one to you, explaining, “Ya gotta sign in for every shift. These things keep track of the hours ya worked, and at the end of every two weeks Azul counts ’em up.”

“That makes sense.” You take the pen he offers and scribble your name and the time in the appropriate boxes, soon handing both to him.

“And after you put it back here, you can start doin’ what you’re supposed to. Least, that’s what I usually do.”

“And that is?”

“Whatever I feel like.”

“Ah, right. Then what about me? What should I do?”

“You’re gonna be with me today. We’ll be takin’ orders and servin’ customers. Doin’ stuff as we go. That sorta thing.”

“All right! Sounds easy enough!” The both of you high-five just as Jade approaches, wearing his usual polite smile.

“My, my. Someone’s in high spirits.”

You nod, too eager to entertain him with another pointless argument. “You bet! Oh, and thanks for the uniform.”

“It was my pleasure.”

Your nose scrunches at his too-proud inflection, but your attention is soon snatched away when Floyd returns with a notepad and pen.

You flip to a fresh page, curiously clicking your pen. “I’m assuming there’s a system for taking orders?”

“Precisely,” Jade interrupts, smoothly striding between you and Floyd, a hand over his heart. “We use abbreviations when taking orders. It’s quick and convenient. I’ll help you as you go.”

Floyd easily steps around Jade, draping an arm on your shoulder and tugging you against him. Your heart skyrockets into your throat at this newfound closeness. “You’ll get it in no time. S’not difficult at all. And if Shrimpy gets stuck, she’s got me.”

Jade stares at Floyd, a ghost of a frown turning his lips down. “She’ll have both of us,” he corrects coolly. “Azul tasked both of us to train her, after all.”

“Yeah, but you’re just gonna do things by the book. That’s no fun at all.” Floyd spins you to look at him. “You want me to train ya, right? It’ll be more fun that way.”

You lock eyes with Jade over Floyd’s shoulder. Though they’re dulled with emptiness, he smiles and nods encouragingly. “Uh… I mean, of course I want you to train me. But Azul might get angry if I mess up on my first day because I wanted to have fun. Seems a little…irresponsible.”

He’ll definitely count it as my first strike, too. There’s no way I’m risking that.

Floyd pouts, his entire frame melting with disappointment. “Aww. Shrimpy’s lame.”

“There are other ways to have fun, you know.” Swatting his empty insult away, you lower your voice conspiratorially. “We just can’t get caught.”

“Attagirl, now you’re speakin’ my language.”

“Hell yeah! Let’s do this!”

Between the two of them, Floyd actually proves his worth—more so than Jade. He must be on top of his game today, you realize as he points out various numbering systems and abbreviations, casually correcting you when it’s necessary. You wonder how he can remember all of this, but when he puts his mind to a task he can accomplish anything. You’re content to listen and follow along, striving for perfection even though you know that means nothing to Floyd.

Jade keeps his distance, tending to nearby tables when he’s not needed. He’s quiet today, more so than usual, but you don’t have any time to dissect this observation and what it means. The lunch rush is a whirlwind; students filter in with their cravings, piling into booths and tables, and soon the lounge is resembling a noisy sardine tin. The rowdy energy keeps you alert, has you flitting from table to table with a pep in your step. Every group you’ve tended to, with Floyd standing at your side as your lifeline, has shrunk away at the sight of him. He flashes them friendly grins, but to everyone else they probably look menacing.

You’re relieved he’s here. His presence gives you some special sort of invincibility against ignorant customers who may have been itching to heckle you on your first day. And no one would dare try anything with Floyd prowling so closely.

“Thank you for your order! It’ll be up shortly,” you say, offering the table a trademark customer service smile. You turn on your heel, intending to beeline for the kitchen to notify the chefs of another order, when you walk right into Floyd. “Oh, sorry! Do you need something, Floyd?”

Pinching the order slip between two nimble fingers, he tears it from the notebook and beams. “I’ll take care of this. You do the next one by yourself. Table six.” Before you can object, he pats you on the shoulder and skips off. “Countin’ on ya, Shrimpy!”

Aw. I’ll miss you, you think with a dejected pout, spinning to locate the table in question. The pout immediately twists up into a smile when you spot three familiar faces, and you hurry over to meet them.

“Hey, guys, fancy seeing you here!”

Ace, Deuce, and Grim all turn to look at you, their faces brightening considerably at your arrival.

“(Name), hey! How’s your first shift going?” Deuce asks.

“Think ya could slide us some extras free of charge?” Grim tries, patting the menu with his paw. “The Great Grim ain’t gonna say no to free eats!”

“Now that sounds good. What do ya think, (Name)? Think you could hook us up?” With a smirk, Ace leans back into the cushioned booth and pantomimes locking his lips and tossing an invisible key. “We won’t tell if you won’t.”

You roll your eyes, hands situated on your hips. “First of all, no, I can’t do that even if I wanted to. Secondly, if you’re just here to beg for free food, the door’s over there.”

“Don’t listen to them,” Deuce cuts in, shooting them a look. “They’re just thinking with their stomachs. We’re paying customers like everyone else, so please just treat us like that.”

Ace tuts. “You wouldn’t even do something nice for your best buds? That’s harsh, man. I thought we had something.”

“We do and it’s called friendship. But not the kind of friendship where I steal from my job just to feed you. Besides, you get tons of free snacks every time you hang out at Ramshackle. If anything, you ought to do something nice for me.”

“Can’t I just buy my way out with this award-winning smile of mine? Oh, I know! I’ll teach you a few magic tricks next time we play cards. How’s that sound for payment? Priceless, yeah?”

“Not too bad. All right, I’m in.” You reach over to bump fists with Ace, sealing the verbal deal.

“Hey, I wanna learn! If yer teachin’ my hench-human, I gotta get in on this, too!” Grim nudges Ace, attempting to squeeze past him in the booth to get between him and you.

“Oi, Grim! Sit back down!”

You laugh at the sight while Deuce looks on woefully. He turns to you next. “How’s it going with Floyd? You said you’d have a better chance to see him here, right?”

“Yeah, it’s going surprisingly well! I thought he’d want nothing to do with me at first—because I’d be just another new hire—but he’s been super helpful all day. On top of that, we’re talking more than we usually do. Oh, and he also complimented me! It’s been a great first day.” The more you ramble, the more the color on Deuce’s face drains until he’s as pallid as a ghost. “Uh, Deuce? You good?”

Even Grim and Ace have quieted their quarreling, and now they look on with an obedience that startles you. But then, in spite of his silence, you sense him. Without turning to confirm, you feel around for the ends of his scarf, take hold of both, and tug him down to your height.

“My, my. It seems I’ve been ensnared,” Jade admits, his voice light with laughter.

“It’s rude to lurk, you know,” you advise, craning your head to glare at him. “You’re scaring my honored guests.”

“Am I now?” Rather boldly, he rests his chin on your shoulder to stare down at your friends. The proximity would have been ominous to anyone else—and it certainly is to Ace, Deuce, and Grim—but for you this is nothing new. “I’ve only come to check in. You’re very hard at work making pleasant conversation.”

“It was very pleasant until a certain eel interrupted.”

“Ah, is that so? Pardon my intrusion.”

Releasing his scarf from your hold, you shrug him off. “Little late for insincerity. Anyway, shoo. I was just about to take their orders.”

“I thought I might observe. You seem quite popular with customers and it’s only your first day. I’d like to know what parts of you are so appealing.” Jade detaches himself and slides into the empty space beside you. He smiles, close-eyed and tight-lipped. “Don’t let me hinder you.”

“Ugh. All right, guys, what do you want?”

“Since when are you so buddy-buddy with Jade?” Ace asks instead, sounding genuinely curious despite his growing smirk.

He thinks he’s worked out what’s going on behind the scenes, but he doesn’t even know half of it. A relief, otherwise you’d never hear the end of his teasing. He doesn’t bother to hide it, nor does he whisper his query. If you could shrink him with pure willpower alone, stuff him in a jar, and give it a firm shake, you’d do just that.

“We are not buddy-buddy!” you hiss, clicking your pen impatiently. “Now order, or else I’m leaving your table and never coming back.”

“I dunno…” Deuce winces under the combination of Jade’s inquisitive stare and your mean glower as you wordlessly dare him to continue. “You seem like buds to me.”

“Yeah! (Name) was goin’ on and on about him this morning. Nearly made me deaf with all her loud rantin’! Since the Great Grim’s so all-knowin’ about stuff, I’d say she likes him.”

You catch the grin curling on Jade’s lips and hurry to step in front of him before he can say or do anything that’ll deepen the grave you’ve dug. His hands fall upon your shoulders, holding you still while he leers at your friends.

“Do we truly seem so close?” he asks. A trick question if you’ve ever heard one.

The three of them exchange wary looks before attempting chuckles.

“You know… Actually, I think I’m ready to order now.”

“I mean, closeness can’t really be measured physically like that, right? You kinda have no choice but to be close or…as close as coworkers can get, I guess,” Deuce adds.

“The Great Grim’s gonna be skin and bones by the time you finish yapping! Hurry up and lemme put my order in!”

“Yeah, that’s what I thought.”

You stick your tongue out at them before shifting out of Jade’s grasp, penning their orders one at a time. Once everything has been recorded, you rip the slip from the notepad and pass it to Jade. He peers at it, brows raised.

“Since we’re so close, help me out and make this order.”

“Anything for Shrimpy,” he murmurs with that stupid, sly smile of his. He brushes past you as he departs for the bar.

You just love to play dangerous games, don’t you, Jade Leech? you think, hoping he trips on the way there. (He doesn’t.)

“You sure there’s nothing between you and Jade?” Ace asks once it’s just you. “Nothing at all?”

Your eyes narrow dubiously. “Why? You interested?”

He forces a loud scoff. “As if! Like I’d like you. You’ve probably got all sortsa cooties.”

“Oh, really? I’ll show you cooties. Come here!”

Giggling, you throw yourself into the booth and wrap your arms around Ace to smother him in friendly affection. He fights it halfheartedly, his cheeks flushed pink. Deuce and Grim sit back and enjoy the silliness with wide smirks. You’re near-wrestling with him, the both of you attempting to overpower the other with pokes and pinches. It’s when you spot Floyd emerging from the kitchen, drinks balanced on his tray, that you finally separate yourself from Ace, putting a grand end to your impossible stalemate.

“Now we’ve both got cooties.” You ruffle his hair. He attempts to return the favor, but you take a graceful step away before he can capture you.

“Yeah, yeah. Just you wait. I’ll get you back for this,” he challenges, mischief lacing each syllable. “When you least expect it! That’s an Ace Trappola guarantee!”

“You sure you’re not just gonna forget?” Deuce notes with a smirk, to which Ace glares.

“Just because you said that, I’m gonna remember it for the rest of the month!”

“Good luck,” Grim says with a snicker. “The Great Grim might be inclined to remind you if you offer him some premium tuna…”

“Come off it! Your memory’s even worse! Just look at your last test score!”

“Yours ain’t any better!”

You shake your head, thoroughly amused with their antics. “I’ll see you later, okay? Let’s hang out at Ramshackle tonight!”

Deuce nods and flashes you a kind smile—the type that smooths out all of his rough edges. “Have a good rest of your shift, (Name).”

“Make a difference, tiger,” Ace says with a wink. “Catch ya in the eve.”

“And if they got leftovers at the end of this, bring ’em home for me!”

“You can count on it, guys. And I’m not making any promises, Grim!”

And then you’re slipping into the fray before your always-hungry direbeast friend can protest, darting around the noisy hustle and bustle to get to Floyd. He’s just finished making his rounds when you meet him at the center, the both of you sharing a nod of mutual greeting. Carrying drinks of his own, Jade passes you and you don’t spare him a single glance. You’ve seen and heard enough of him for the day.

“Shrimpy’s pretty good at this,” Floyd remarks as he wraps an arm around you, putting most of his weight on you. You stand proud even though you falter with the added burden. “Didja work in a place like this back in your world?”

You gaze up at him, your face inches from his. Any closer and you could…

Your eyes flick from his eyes to his lips and then back. Floyd watches you, brows raised and body angled directly at you. He’s waiting. Waiting for what, you’re not sure.

“Yeah,” you admit in a single breath, speechless and yet filled to the brim with chatter. “I… I did.”

“Then you got nothin’ to worry about. You’re already doin’ great.”

He leans in even closer, a smile stretching across his face. You can smell his cologne, practically taste him from where you stand. The lounge and its inhabitants seem to fade away, and suddenly it’s just you and your star in a tenebrous space lit only by a single spotlight.

Any closer—mere centimeters—and you could…

Gathering your courage, you force the words out from the crannies in your heart, each one a product of this perfect moment. “Floyd, I’ve always wanted to tell you this. I… I want you to know that I’ve always loved—”

“Your work ethic,” Jade interjects, placing his hands on your and Floyd’s shoulders to separate you. He smiles, irritatingly innocent. “As it happens, table eight needs a server. Why not show off that incredible work ethic right now?”

On second thought, maybe you should shove Jade in the jar. Lock him inside for the rest of his days and turn it into a terrarium trap. The plants can thrive off of his decomposing corpse for all you care—as recompense for being an utter pain.

Floyd shrugs Jade off with a pout. “Yeah, yeah. I see ’em.”

“I’ll race you there,” you challenge before he can lose steam.

That sparks him right back into the groove, and he giggles. “If I win, you gotta tell me that thing you were tryin’ to say, okaaay? No gettin’ out of it. And if you lie, I’ll squeeze the truth outta ya.”

“And if I win, you owe me something sweet!”

“Hee-hee. Shrimpy better run fast then.”

He takes off first. You lag behind long enough to drag Jade down to your face. He tilts his head at you.

“At this rate, he’ll win.”

“Good. Then he’ll finally know how I feel about him, and someone won’t be there to interrupt like the ignorant, asshole eel he is.”

“I only wish to assist you. After all—” he lowers his voice, and the pointed beginnings of his teeth wink at you from under his curved lips— “as per Azul’s condition, kissing and confessions count as Floyd-related distractions, do they not? Are you truly willing to risk striking out on your first day?”

He’s right. You hate that he’s right.

“Shit,” you hiss, releasing him from your hold.

He straightens and struts past you, smooth as a breeze. “If you run now, you may just make it.” And then he’s walking towards your friends’ table, each of their drinks placed upon his tray.

You groan and fall into a frantic run. “Floyd, wait up!”

By some magical miracle, you manage to get to the table before he does. But that’s only because you throw yourself at it with a force so shocking and desperate that it stuns both Floyd and the students sitting there. A twinge of humiliation pricks your heart when you draw away from the table, smiling sheepishly. Floyd’s raucous laughter permeates the air, and his hand claps down on your shoulder.

“Musta been a real good secret if Shrimpy’s so determined to keep quiet about it.”

“Y-Yeah, something like that…”

Thank goodness I made it. Just what was I thinking, getting swept up in the moment? There’s no way I can confess in the middle of the lounge when it’s so busy! That would make for such a lame confession. You dig your notepad and pen from your pocket, exhaling in relief. I guess I owe Jade some thanks. He saved me from certain doom.

“I’ll figure it out eventually. Don’t hold out on me, kaaay?”

With his looming frame overshadowing you, all you can do is nod. Floyd has always had a tendency to take your breath away—either from anxiety, amazement, or admiration. And he’s so good at it, too.

“Ah. Guess I owe ya somethin’ sweet, yeah?” He digs through his pockets before withdrawing a single candy. Grinning boyishly, he leans in, presses his lips to your cheek with a wet-sounding smack, and then slides the treat into your waiting hand. “There. How’s that for sweet?”

Your face flares with heat and you grip the lollipop in a tighter fist, half-expecting it to simply vanish if you loosen your grip. “T-The sweetest…”

“Uh, can we order now?” an impatient Scarabia student asks, a scowl scrawled across his features.

His friends huff in agreement, each unwilling spectators to your and Floyd’s fluffy fawning.

Floyd’s gaze is dark, but his smile is bright—all sharp points. “Sure, sure. Tell Shrimpy your order. It’s her first day, so cut her some slack, else I’m servin’ each of ya a side of squeezin’. On the house.”

The quartet of friends stiffen and give hasty, obedient nods.

You click your pen, swimming through a sea of pure joy. The lollipop is a lucky charm in your pocket. “What can I get for you, gentlemen?”

For the rest of the day you’re in the clouds, clear-headed and weightless.

Weeks later, on your way out of the lounge, Floyd stops you. His arrival is Grim’s cue to exit, and he trots after Ace and Deuce, who are already so far ahead they’re practically pinpricks. You’re compelled to follow, if only to tell them not to wait up, but then Floyd’s hand is squeezing your shoulder, willing you to look at him.

“Floyd?”

You’re not scheduled to work tonight. In fact, you have no further business with him. Not really. Most of your conversations are held during your shifts, your bond strengthened through mutual employment. You’re not best friends, but you’re something close.

Close enough to see each other outside of work, you think before cringing inwardly. Wait. Friends and classmates do that, too. There’s nothing special about that.

“Why don’tcha stay a while? S’not too busy today.”

“I’d love to, but I’ve kinda got plans. We’re heading back to Ramshackle now if you wanna come.”

“Tempting, but nah.”

You blink at him, unsure of his angle. “Then… I’ll see you around?”

Floyd giggles, tilting his head at you in that cute, curious way. “Okaaay.”

His hand slides away and he stands with his arms folded behind his back. You take a step in the opposite direction before halting.

Floyd was the one who sought me out. Floyd…wants something from me. And we’re finally alone. Why am I trying to walk away from that? Isn’t this what I’ve always wanted?

“Actually—” you start, whirling around, still unsure— “can we hang out?”

“Thought ya’d never ask.”

Floyd strides over to match your gait, grinning down at you. He seizes your hand next, spindly fingers interlocking with yours, and then he’s dragging you down the hall. As if caught up in a current, you allow yourself to be pulled.

“What about your shift?” you ask even though you don’t particularly care.

“They’ll manage. Azul’ll just make Jade do all the work.”

You furrow your brow, stumbling along after him. “That doesn’t seem very fair to Jade.”

“Shrimpy cares a lot about Jade, huh?”

“Not like that,” you say, shaking your head. “No way. Jade and I are just friends.”

“Yeah? Didn’t seem that way yesterday.”

“Yesterday?” You think back on the day’s events and recall the way Jade had slipped past you while you were taking an order, his fingers grazing your arm. Of course, as any smart, sensible person would do, you wound your fist back to reciprocate tenfold, which he’d artfully dodged. Much to your disappointment. “Oh, that. That was…an attempt at a high-five.”

Floyd giggles. “Jade’s not super touchy-feely with lotsa people, but he loooves touchin’ Shrimpy.”

You force yourself to laugh, but it comes out high and brittle. “That’s… Yeah, that’s odd. I wonder why…”

Jade, you asshole eel, you haven’t been discreet at all!

Before you can even think of the many ways in which you can exact revenge the next time you see him, Floyd’s in your face.

“Sooo, what spell didja cast on him? It’s got Jade actin’ all weird.”

“Define weird…”

“He’s stayin’ up super late to cook a buncha stuff. Keeps tryin’ to get these recipes right or somethin’ like that, and he’s bringin’ those purple flowers back from the botanical garden. S’not like him to get so…not like him, y’know?”

“Oh. Um. Uh… I couldn’t begin to explain any of his behavior. Maybe he’s just going through something?”

Floyd shrugs. “Do ya like him?”

“Like is a strong word.”

“So you love him.”

“What? No. We’re just friends.”

“So you hate him? That’s cold, Shrimpy. Jade’ll be so sad…”

“I highly doubt that.” You roll your eyes, unable to place real devastation on the face of Jade Leech. For all you know, he could just mask it with his usual simper. “I don’t hate him, but I don’t love him either. I like someone else.”

“Ooh, Shrimpy’s got eyes for another guy? Wonder who it could be.” Floyd hums, folding his arms behind his head and walking onwards. You skip after him. “Maybe it’s me? Nah. S’probably someone closer than that. Like Crabby, yeah?”

Your heart stumbles in your ribs. I can’t confess. Not now. It’s not perfect. I’m not ready.

“M-My love life is none of your business.”

“Secretive about your special someone? I getcha.” He gazes at you. “Do they know?”

“About my crush? Hard to say. If he does know, he hasn’t said anything yet.”

“Maybe ya just gotta be direct with it. Rip the bandage off. That sorta thing.”

“I want to. I really do. But…” You glance at the tiled floor. “I know he doesn’t feel the same.”

“Don’t assume stuff when ya haven’t even asked the guy.”

“But I’m positive he doesn’t like me! There’s no way he’d like me. I’m…me.”

Floyd huffs as if your self-doubt offends him. “What’s there not to like about ya? You’re great in my book.”

“It’s different. Being great and being loved—it’s not the same if it’s coming from a friend.”

“Says who?”

“Says me.”

“Why can’tcha be great and loved at the same time? Ya don’t gotta get that sorta validation from the guy you like.”

“That’s the problem. I want him to like me! I want that from him.”

“Even if he doesn’t give it to ya, s’not the end of the world.”

Without even realizing it, the two of you have made it to his dorm room. You stare at Floyd, a frown flickering on your face.

“I know. I…know. But there’s this part of me that hopes.”

Floyd leans against the wall, arms folded across his chest. “Why’s that?”

“Because he does these things that feel too intimate to be friendly and it seems like he might love me, too. No matter how hard I try, I can’t read his intentions. He’s so loud, but the meaning in all of that noise is quiet. It’s like… Like you’re drowning.”

Floyd stares blankly at you. It occurs to you that drowning may not be the best metaphor to use when explaining these complications to a merman who has never and will never know what such a phenomenon feels like.

“Wait. That came out weird. What am I even saying? Sorry, I sound silly. Just…forget that last part.”

“Sure, sure.” He pushes off from the wall and opens the door. “You ever think about practicin’ on anyone?”

“Like…CPR? To save someone from drowning?”

He gives you a confused look.

This is the worst. I’m not normally this dumb. If Jade was here— You stop that thought before it can form. I don’t need him to hold my hand through an interaction with Floyd. Come on, (Name). You can do this!

“Oh, you meant…” What the hell did he mean? “You’re talking about a confession, right?”

“Yeah, that’s it! You ever think about doin’ that with a friend? Maybe it’ll boost your confidence a li’l. Get ya ready for the real deal.”

“I have…never thought of that. Not once in my life. Nope. Never.”

Floyd ducks inside his room and plops down on a messy bed. You follow, admiring the very obvious divide in space. Jade’s half of the room is clinically clean—every possession organized and stowed away on shelves. Even his desk is spotless. Floyd’s half is chaos stuffed with chaos, entirely in messy disarray. When their differences are made so obvious, it’s almost amusing.

You spot heliotropes tucked away in a simple vase. Floyd wasn’t kidding. Jade really is attached to those flowers. At least they match his room.

“Then practice on me.”

“You… You’re serious?” You turn to look at him. He’s sitting on the edge of his bed, leaning back on his palms.

“Why wouldn’t I be? I wanna help Shrimpy.”

“Um… You don’t have to. It’ll probably sound cringe.”

“Who knows?” He hums, smirking. “You won’t until you do it.”

You weigh your options. Practicing a confession for your crush with your crush… It could be cathartic to say everything you’ve always wanted to say without the worry that often accompanies rejection. You might even feel better afterwards.

“Promise not to laugh?”

“Promise.”

“Really promise. Like, genuinely promise. Please?”

“I really, genuinely promise not to laugh,” he parrots, holding his hand up as if swearing an oath.

You inhale a deep breath, steel your nerves, and squeeze your eyes shut.

“Okay…”

I’ve got this. It’s just a confession. A practice confession.

“I… I like you. For the longest time, I’ve been in love with you and I’ve always wanted to tell you. But… Well, it’s impossible because I never know what to say or whether it’ll be the right thing. Maybe there is no right thing.” You risk opening your eyes and find he’s focused squarely on you. Nervously, you step towards him. “You’re amazing. The coolest guy I’ve ever met. I’m so happy when I’m around you, and when we’re not together I feel like part of me is missing. Maybe that’s kinda dramatic, but it’s the truth. You’re my star. Bright and unique and effortlessly beautiful… I could admire you forever. So… So I just want you to know that…that no matter what happens—even if you don’t feel the same—you mean everything to me, and I’ll always love you.”

Floyd is unusually quiet as he sits there, absorbing your words with a flushed face. And then he reaches to scratch the back of his neck.

You fidget on your feet. “H-How was it?”

“I’m not an expert, but I’d say that was pretty damn good,” he replies with a whistle. Your heart lifts when he beckons you over. “C’mere. There’s somethin’ on your face.”

Now your heart has crash-landed in the pits of your stomach.

“Are you serious?! Why didn’t you tell me before all of that? Aah, I probably looked so stupid!” Your panicked flailing ceases when his hands settle upon your waist, coaxing you closer. “F-Floyd?”

He drags you down to his height and leans in to peck you on the lips, and your heart jumps back up into your throat. Rather than yanking yourself out of his grasp, you merely stare at him. A few seconds later and the embarrassment catches up to you.

“W-Wait… Wait, hold on! What was that for?”

He giggles. “Now it’s all gone.”

He kissed me for real this time…

You swallow rising anxieties and place your hands on his shoulders. “Can… Can I kiss you?”

“S’long as it ain’t gonna change your mind about that other guy, go for it.”

Dummy, you think, besotted. You’re that guy.

Guided by hedonistic desire, you close the distance between the both of you in the same way you once did with Jade. As humiliating as it is to admit, he was marvelous help. If not for him, you might’ve never found yourself here, kissing after a practice confession. You’ll have to thank him later.

Floyd’s lips are soft against your own, and he smiles into the kiss with a gleeful, breathless giggle. His hands are roaming along your hips, and he flops onto his bed without forewarning. You fall with him and inadvertently straddle him, your hands situated on either side of his head. You sputter your disbelief, which is soon cut short when he drags you down to meet his mouth once more. This time it’s all heady passion, more innate instinct than anything. You kiss like you’ll never have another chance, savoring saliva and a duet of sounds made in salacity.

The both of you are left breathless in the aftermath, chests heaving. If this is a dream, you never want to wake.

Floyd smiles up at you, sandwiching your face between large, strong hands. “You gonna kiss your special someone like this?”

“Maybe,” you tease with a wink. “I wonder if he prefers soft, slow kisses or quick, hungry ones… It’s hard to say with his fluctuating moods, and there are just so many ways to kiss.”

Floyd’s smile morphs into something devious, and his hands slide to your arms. You yelp when he flips you and pins you down like you’re nothing more than a portrait on a wall. You’re about to question the sudden change in position when he hoists your legs up and around his waist. He rocks his hips once, slotting himself between your thighs in a way so sensual it has you overheating. Your breath hitches.

“Then we’d better practice all of ’em, yeah?”

You nod, your voice coming out meek. “Y-Yeah…”

“Gimme some hints. I wanna know who this guy is,” he says, removing his scarf and undone tie. His blazer and hat follow suit, abandoned in the piles of dirty laundry spread around on his side of the floor.

You’re so distracted by his methodical undressing that you almost miss his demand. “O-Oh, it’s…not important.”

“It is to me. I wanna know who I’m gonna hafta squeeze for stealin’ Shrimpy’s heart.”

“Is… Is that right?” you mumble, flinching when you spot his erection straining against his slacks.

“Shrimpy’s so cute. I just couldn’t help it,” he answers your unspoken question, each syllable an octave higher with his whimsical laughter. You watch deft hands work to slide the suspenders from his shoulders before moving to unbutton his uniform shirt. You blink and it’s already thrown over his shoulder. You drink his broad build in, brazen in your assessment of chiseled planes cut in charming chiaroscuro. “So who’s the lucky guy? Is it someone I know? Someone from Octavinelle?”

“Um… It’s definitely someone…”

“Course it is. But that ain’t givin’ me any solid clues.”

His hands crawl lower, hovering just above the zip that separates you from his boxers and, additionally, his cock.

It’s actually happening… Floyd wants to do this with me… Is this real? It’s not a dream, right?

With a scintilla of courage, you lift your gaze to his face. “It’s someone from Octavinelle.”

“You sure it ain’t Jade?”

“There are plenty of people in Octavinelle who aren’t Jade.”

“Yeah, but none of ’em are cozyin’ up to ya during work.”

“Jade does not cozy up to me.” Scoffing at the absurdity of it all, you reach to undo the first few buttons on your uniform blouse. Floyd follows your fingers like they’re a laser and he’s a cat entranced. His tongue darts out to wet his lips. “He’s, like, obsessed with his fungi. I think they’re more interesting to him than me.”

Floyd barks out a laugh. “Sounds about right.”

You sit up and pull your blouse from your person. At once, you feel humiliated and it’s not because of the half-nudity. Rather, it’s because the bra you’re wearing is not pretty in the slightest. Had you known you’d be rolling around in bed with Floyd, you’d have chosen something with more lace—something that’s not nearly as bland as the one you’re currently sporting.

“Well, if it ain’t Jade, who is it?”

“Guess.”

He pouts. “Shrimpy’s not bein’ very nice, makin’ me guess. You think I got every small fry’s name memorized?”

You choke on your retort when he palms you. “I… I’ll describe him.”

“Go on. I’m listenin’.” As he says this, he undoes the button on your pants, sliding them from your legs like he’s unwrapping a gift. You’re relieved your panties are, at the very least, cuter than your bra. “Don’t let me stop ya.”

“Okay… Where do I start? He’s handsome and has an unusual sense of humor, but it’s fun because he’s genuine with it. He can be a little frightening at times, but he’s never scared me. He’s so kind and he has the oddest reasons for why he does things, but he never lies about any of it.”

“Sounds like a decent guy.”

“He’s so much more than that!”

Floyd giggles and reaches for your bra next, yanking it up to free your breasts. You feel yourself getting warmer with every second he spends staring.

“It’s not Azul, is it?”

It’s a completely reasonable guess—not funny at all—but you laugh. “No.”

Floyd huffs. “C’mon, Shrimpy, you’re wringin’ me out here. Who is it?”

He moves to toy with your chest, but you pull him down instead. He’s so close you’re breathing him in like he’s new perfume. “Aren’t we supposed to practice kissing? Can’t do much of that if we’re talking.”

“Guess not.”

He seals the distance then, pinning you with his body. The hand that had previously been between your thighs slithers up to squeeze your breasts. He pinches and rolls your perky nipple in an effort to elicit all kinds of explicit sounds from the depths of your throat. Floyd’s tongue flashes into your mouth and you submit without struggle, allowing your own tongue to twine around his. Your hands roam without much foresight for where they’ll inevitably end up, fingers pressing into hard lines and well-toned musculature. You settle for looping your arms around his neck as you melt into him, sighing sweetly.

When he parts, you scramble to bring him back. “Floyd—”

“‘m not goin’ anywhere,” he promises, pressing his forehead to yours. He speaks softer next, as if fearing you might shove him away and flee. “You want this, right?”

“I do. More than anything.”

“You sure it ain’t gonna mess things up with you and your special someone?”

“I…” You purse your lips.

Is now a good time? It must be. It has to be! But…

“You don’t gotta tell me. Lemme know if you change your mind. I’ll stop,” he says, burying his face between your tits. Your fingers dig into his scalp and he groans when you yank fistfuls of his hair. His breath fans across your bare skin, sending pleasant shivers through your spine all the way to your toes.

You gaze at the ceiling, heart hammering relentlessly. “Thanks.”

“Mhmmm. Don’t mention it.”

Floyd peppers your chest with kisses as if it’s an empty canvas in need of affectionate paint. One hand continues to treat your nipple as if it’s his own personal stress toy while his mouth gravitates towards your other untouched bud. It hardens with his deliberate ministrations, his tongue tracing salacious circles. You gasp when the serrated points of his teeth tease your sensitive flesh next.

“Please—” it comes out reedy and raw— “Floyd, please bite me…”

“You suuure?” he asks even though the question is more playful than serious. His fingers find your panties next, hooking around the waistband to slide them down.

“I’m so sure—very sure! Please!”

You feel his amusement reverberate through you in waves when he chuckles. He tweaks your nipple harshly, and a sharp, stuttering moan slips from your parted lips. Floyd’s mouth comes off of your other nipple with a wet pop and he licks his way up to your collarbone.

“I want Shrimpy to forget all about that other guy. Only think about me right now.”

Buoyant with bliss, you hum your acquiescence. Every part of you burns with a desire so redoubtable it could be a manifestation of its own, tangible and malleable. Shaped for sex, splayed on Floyd’s mattress, entirely in the moment. You’re at his mercy, your pulse in his maw, and it’s everything.

His bite incites primal jouissance, fierce and predatory. It’s deep enough to break skin and sting, and you respond to the pleasure-pain with a keening cry. Your fingers curl into his hair to ground yourself while blood pools to the surface. Floyd’s tongue laps at the puncture. Crimson trickles from the mark when he pulls back to observe his work, his jaw stained red.

And Great Seven does he look attractive in the most agrestal, ruddy way.

He licks his lips clean, satisfaction shimmering in those enchanting eyes of his. Now that you’re looking at them, you’ve never realized just how splendid they truly are. Gold and olive-brown cut sharp, upward-angled sockets into his skull. He’s a work of art—your Galatea brought to life.

Before you can spend any more time studying him, Floyd presses two fingers against your mouth. You open wide to receive his digits, senselessly running your tongue over them without command. He giggles at this, reaching deeper until you’re choking.

“Not nice!” you exclaim after he’s pulled his hand away, his fingers coated in your saliva.

“Hee-hee. Sorry, Shrimpy.”

Remorseless. You love him.

Your moans are hissed through grit teeth when his fingers drag along your folds, just barely slipping in to sample the warmth within. You pull Floyd in for another sloppy kiss, licking into his mouth with senseless fervor and grinding down onto his hand to chase a far-off, budding climax. Floyd’s thumb glides along your clit, pushing your hood up to reveal the pert nub beneath. He sinks his slender fingers in then, two of them pushing through gummy walls without resistance. Your eyes roll back into your head when he does this, blissful relief coursing through your bloodstream.

“Oh… Haa—fuck. Thank you.”

“So pretty,” he mumbles, lazily pumping them in and out. “You’re real pretty, you know that? My pretty Shrimpy, all mine.”

“Do you… Do you really mean that?”

“Course I do. What? You don’t think so?”

“Yes—no, I mean… I… No one’s told me that before…”

Not true, your brain interrupts, oh-so-helpfully unearthing the memory despite your attempts to stifle it. Jade did. Jade thinks so.

“They wouldn’t know pretty if she stared ’em in the face.”

“Obviously not.” Your giggle rises in pitch, sounding more like a trembling cry when he curls his fingers. “Ah!”

You banish Jade to the darkest corners of your mind, willing him and his silver-tongued flattery away. Who cares if Jade thought it first? It means the most coming from Floyd.

Floyd’s smile is fond, his eyes soft. “Obviously not,” he echoes in agreement.

He works you open like you’re a blossom preening under sunlight, his fingers plucking expertly at your strings to make you sing. You writhe beneath him, breathing hot and heavy as your stomach ties itself in knots. Floyd peppers your face with a dozen kisses before gravitating towards your neck. His teeth prick your skin in a shallow bite. The mark that’s sucked into your skin next has you hissing through grit teeth. It’s such a simple act—not nearly as pleasurable as the fingers thrust up inside you—but it still draws such a wanton moan from you.

Your eyelids flutter shut, and you sink into an ocean of thoughts, imagining yourself, painted head to toe in love bites of varying severity, standing in front of a mirror to admire each one. Some could be veiled under the confidentiality of clothing, but others would be impossible to cover. Like the ones on your neck, undeniable proof of your thrilling tryst with Floyd.

“Fuck,” he hisses against your skin, needle-thin teeth catching on your shoulder. “Shrimpy’s squeezin’ my fingers suuuper tight.”

“Mm, yeah… I can’t help it. It feels—” you gasp when he presses down against your clit, those dexterous digits working you towards the bright, beautiful end— “aah… Feels so good!”

Even better now that your fantasies have finally bled into reality. You’re floating in and out of ecstasy at the perfect pace, guided by guiltless intimacy. The knots are winding themselves taut, on the verge of snapping, and you feel yourself coming undone—toes curling and lips bitten bloody while euphoria washes over you in ripples.

But then those long fingers are tugged out at once and it leaves your pussy clenching around nothing, your clit aching for attention. Tetchy and unsatisfied, your brows knitted, you lament the interruption. Your body burns and aches for proper stimulation—hungering for a release he’s so cruelly denied you.

“Fuck me. I was so close…”

“Gonna do that in a sec.”

He pulls away to shuck his pants and boxer briefs next. It’s done so fast it’s clumsy; he almost topples over in the rush. Floyd’s about to reclaim his place between your legs, but then he pauses.

“Condom,” he grumbles, a reminder more than a realization.

He leans over you to search for one amidst the junk cluttering his desk. Notwithstanding your better judgment, you grab his arm. He looks at you, and you swallow your inhibitions. Dangerous games will reward you with dangerous prizes. You know this. And yet…

“I… I wanna feel you.”

Floyd doesn’t need to be told twice. Grinning, he feels around, knocking items off in his impatience, before finally grabbing hold of a bottle of lube. He squirts a comfortable amount onto his palm and sits back to run his slick hand up his hard length. You reach down to spread yourself for his viewing pleasure, but instead he snatches your arm and flips you over onto your stomach. The change is so jarring it leaves you reeling.

“Wha—Floyd?” You crane your neck to look at him, but he pushes you back into the pillows.

“Stay there,” he says, but his voice has dropped a few decibels into something thick and husky. “Shrimpy trusts me, yeah?”

“I…do. But I wanted to look at you while—”

“Just trust me on this. I think you’ll like it.”

He rubs his palm against your flank, and you’re horrified by how easily you submit—that that’s all it takes to wheedle you into absolute obedience. With the blood rushing in your ears and your body vibrating with nervous excitement, you prop yourself on your hands and knees.

“Lemme know if it’s too much.”

“It’s okay. I can take it. Please… I’ve wanted this for so long, Floyd.”

“I can tell,” he teases, stuffing two fingers inside to open you up. The slick squelch that follows is obscene in the best way. “Shrimpy’s drownin’ my fingers. S’like an ocean.”

You bury your face in the sheets, flustered. “S-Sorry…”

“Nothin’ wrong with it. I’ve been wantin’ ya, too.” To prove this point, he seizes your hips and tugs you towards his waiting cock. It throbs against your bare cunt, and it’s so much more lewd without a rubber preventing you from feeling every prominent vein and thick inch. “I’ve always wanted you, but you never saw me.”

“You have? Do you really mean that or—”

Your question is promptly punched out of you when the fleshy head of his cock prods at your pussy, gradually pushing through rings of muscle. Inches are swallowed in slow seconds, and you suck in a sharp breath as his girth fills you. Floyd seems just as affected by the sheer bliss provided by your joined bodies, grunting behind you while your velvety heat wraps snugly around his cock. His fingers dig into your hips. Much like the stretch, it doesn’t hurt nearly as much as you imagined it might. It’s only awkward for the first few seconds, in which you and Floyd are both adjusting to every addictive sensation all at once.

“All good?”

You hum your approval, your head spinning. He’s inside me… And it’s not a dream.

“W-What about you?”

“Never been better,” he answers with a delirious cackle. “S’nice and soft inside. Cozy.”

He moves casually, experimental for all of one minute, before he draws back and snaps forwards. You’re pressed into the mattress when he bottoms out, the breath knocked out of your lungs in one fell swoop. Shakily, you force yourself back onto your arms. You don’t stay upright for very long, though, because the pace he adopts is brutal and unabating. As if he’s waited forever for this moment. As if you might never come back if he doesn’t pound you into the bed right now.

As if the world beyond his room is crumbling to pieces and this will be the only time either of you will ever have to love one another in solitude before horrible, heart-wrenching destruction.

A confession is so far from your mind with every sinful slap of skin on skin, and any coherent words you may have hoped to produce are replaced with loud love cries. When you fantasized about rolling around in bed with Floyd, you often imagined something soft and slow—a passionate build-up to inevitable climax. But this is nothing like that. This is raw and filthy and fast. And it’s so much better than the delusional masquerade you entertained with the phony Floyd.

Why did I ever rely on Jade in the first place? you think absently, clutching the sheets in curled fists. Floyd continues to fuck into you with reckless abandon, hunched over you as if you’re a prisoner groveling for mercy and he’s your beloved executioner.

Only rather than clean, cutthroat slaughter, you’re granted love in loads. It’s physical and sweaty and sticky. It has tears brimming your lash line and blurring your vision each time he hits all the right spots. It takes all of the complicated feelings you experienced while navigating an impossible situationship with Jade and dissolves them into nothing. Because with Jade it was wrong. It was a foolish, fickle farce. One too many meaningless trysts. A dangerous game spiraling out of control.

But with Floyd it’s right. Your world, once so off-kilter, corrects itself when he pins you down with his body, warm and toned and rough, and spears you with his cock. He’s your sweet Floyd, capriciousness and all, perfect in a way you just can’t explain.

And so you surrender to rising euphoria, strung along like fresh linens billowing in a breeze.

Amidst your own moans, Floyd’s groans, and the noisy plap of his hips against your soft ass, you make a mental note to end your arrangement with Jade at your earliest convenience. After all, you don’t need the fake when you have the real one.

I’ll miss his cooking, though.

“Whatcha thinkin’ about, Shrimpy?”

“No one in particul—aah!”

Floyd pinches your thigh good-naturedly. “No one at all?” His hand sweeps across your stomach next, palming the area as if he’s trying to feel himself buried in your guts. “You thinkin’ about that guy you like?”

“What if I was?”

“A damn shame for him,” he says, his hips stuttering to a halt. His hands make their rounds along your body, touring every inch of your nudity. You can’t see his face, but you can feel his searing gaze. “That guy’s not inside ya, is he?”

“Not physically, no.”

“What? Is he livin’ rent-free in Shrimpy’s head or somethin’?”

“Maybe. Maybe not.”

“Tell him to get lost. I wanna live up there.”

You giggle. “Will you pay rent?”

“Course I will.” He resumes his pace after a moment, albeit at a lazy, back-and-forth drag. You whine like a whore in heat, craving more than a slow, steady filling. “Bet that other guy isn’t even all that. Not a good rent-payer like me. Suuuper irresponsible and stuff. Late on his payments, y’know?”

“Mm, he’s perfect. Everything and more,” you mumble, your thoughts scrambled like eggs. It’s Jade you picture with your next admission even though you mean to describe Floyd. “He’s actually so charming once you—ooh—get to—haa—get to know him… He annoys me, but I don’t mind it.”

“Yeah?”

He grips your hips tighter, lifts your ass higher, and drives home in one rough thrust. His hold on you prevents you from crumpling, his fingers digging deep and leaving crescent-shaped indents in their wake. Your lashes flutter, eyes on the verge of rolling back into your skull.

“Mhm…”

“Hee-hee. Shrimpy’s so cute, falling apart on my dick… Bet that guy can’t do all of this.”

“Not at all! He can’t compare to you.”

Even though you don’t intend to, you envision Jade’s rictus grin then—the one he’d given you that night in the lounge kitchen when you challenged him to a dance. He’s so strange, but it’s a fun sort of strange. A strange that keeps you on edge, teetering on a precarious peak. He’s a deep-sea predator beneath that human veneer, cunning and crafty in spades, and he kissed you like he was in love that night.

It’s not love. It’s purely convenience, you remind yourself, stern. You like Floyd, and Jade isn’t Floyd.

“Jade—” you start to say, only to save yourself at the last minute— “Is… Mm—aah… Is Jade gonna be back soon?”

“Nah. S’just me and Shrimpy today.”

Shame sparks in your chest. What am I doing, calling out for Jade when Floyd’s here? I must be going crazy. I need to break it off as soon as possible.

You’ve been infatuated with Floyd for over a year now. One year of loyally loving Floyd. Not Jade. It’s never been and will never be Jade.

Chasing those conflictions away, you crawl out of your head to focus on the present. You push back against Floyd’s hips with bolstered determination, boring down on his dick to meet each of his wild thrusts. Within minutes, he’s all you can think of, flooding your brain like a tsunami. You’ve never felt so full and whole before—so connected. Carnal lust or romantic attraction aside, it doesn’t matter right now. Not when you’re swimming in bliss. Not when your emptiness has finally been filled.

All those tireless months of pining and hoping—it’s as if all of that was worth it when your wishes are granted in this very room. Even if you feel just somewhat clumsy with your movements, your body acting on its own accord, you’re relishing every second, sound, and sensation. So much so that you’re crying beneath him, overwhelmed beyond belief. Distantly, you hear him cooing at you, his voice a pleasant rumble.

You never want to come down from this seventh heaven, and you won’t because every moment spent with Floyd is utter rapture.

Floyd fucks you within an inch of unconsciousness, battering your slick, sensitive cunt like he intends to incapacitate you. The bedroom is filled with a sinful symphony of sounds, a litany of filth so loud you’re certain it can be heard down the hall. But that’s the last thing on your mind when the bundled feeling in your lower abdomen becomes unbearable, tightly wound and knotted. You strangle the sheets in shaking fists, tears falling freely.

And then, after leaning over you and getting as close as he possibly can, he wraps his hands around your neck. You startle.

“W-What’s wrong?”

“You sure there’s nothing between you and Jade?”

“Wha—no! Of course not! We’re just friends.”

“I dunno…” His fingers flex and curl inwards to apply just a little pressure. Your body stiffens, but it’s your pussy that betrays you when it clenches involuntarily. Floyd shudders against you, inhaling deeply. “You’re always smellin’ like him. Your pretty perfumes don’t do a good job coverin’ it up.”

You groan, not in the mood for this conversation. “Seriously… What is with you and smells? I’ve always smelled like me, haven’t I?”

“Can’t help it if us morays have a killer sense of smell.”

“Is it really that bothersome?”

“Would be if this was the sea.” He grips your throat with more force. Not enough to hurt you, but it has your heart spiking up into your mouth. “Guess on land it’s kinda like if you saw your special someone with another person and they were wearin’ the same shirt.”

You picture it then: Floyd with someone who isn’t you.

“Oh.”

“Yeaaah. Sucks, doesn’t it?”

“Then—” you’re cut off when his hands constrict, perilous like pythons— “Floyd—”

“Say you wanna smell like me instead. I’ll make you smell real nice.”

His phrasing doesn’t indicate there’s a choice in this matter, but you don’t need to waste time deliberating. Even though you don’t intend to stall, you can’t stop yourself. The question that’s been nagging at you ever since Jade shared insight on the matter—it tumbles free.

“What does smell mean to a moray? Is it—it’s like a tracker, right?”

“You’re halfway there, yeah.” His hips connect with your cushy ass, and his grip cuts into your airflow. The muscles in your neck twitch beneath his fingertips, survival instincts seizing hold. Your breath rattles in your lungs. “S’like makin’ it known. Like tellin’ everyone you’re together. Becomin’ a pair’s real special in the sea.”

A pair…

You want to ask about the significance in that statement—about the implications of togetherness and how that might apply to merfolk. Jade gave you glimpses during previous conversations, and ever since you’ve been wrangling with wanting to know more or keeping your curiosity to yourself. You could ask him, but you’re very acquainted with his smart mouth and his proclivity for stirring up unnecessary trouble. It’s better to hear it from Floyd.

But right now breathing is imperative.

“I want—need you… P-Please,” you rasp, blinking back tears.

It doesn’t hurt, but the pressure fills your head with fuzz. Combined with the agonizing drag of his dick within your walls, it feels almost freeing. Like he’s just pulled you out of your own mind to rejoice in the present with you.

“Promise you’ll be mine. Promise…” His voice wavers, and suddenly he sounds distraught. Fragile like an eroding sandcastle, he adds, “Promise you won’t look at him ever again…”

“I’m yours. I’m all yours.”

His hands linger for a moment longer before he releases you, content with your agreement. You inhale mouthfuls of precious, much-needed oxygen, but part of you misses the rough treatment and the feeling of his hands tightening around your throat. The idea that Floyd once held your life between his palms—that he could crush your windpipe if he so pleased—is monstrously minacious. You know you shouldn’t put your trust in Floyd’s capricious, hair-trigger behaviors, but you’ve already disregarded the risks. Safe sex be damned; you want to know love under the pressure of his thumbs, squeezed into you like he’s your only other source of air. Your savior and your star—forever your Floyd.

His lips replace his hands, stamped impatiently into your nape in bloody bites. Ribbons of warmth trickle between your shoulder blades. His hips don’t halt for a second, and it stokes the fire deep within your belly with potent insistence.

“F-Floyd, please—I’m close! I—”

“I know, Shrimpy. I gotcha.” He rubs your hip encouragingly and that’s all it takes to sweep you up in the titillating throes.

You reach your summit in the clouds with an erotic shout, your vision whiting out and arms going slack. Floyd’s groan sounds much the same when your walls clench down, and he fucks you through it mercilessly. In just a few more erratic, sloppy thrusts, in which he drives his cock as far as it can possibly go, Floyd finally empties his load deep inside. The moan that rips free from his throat is so guttural it’s nearly a growl.

You’re both so drenched in sweat, but you’re alive and vibrating with giddy, sex-drunk relief.

I love you so much, you think as you ebb away from ecstasy, pulled back like the tide.

Basking in the paradisiacal afterglow of orgasm, Floyd runs a hand through disheveled teal locks. The two of you, the sodden sheets, and even the room reeks of sex. His other hand holds you in place while he slowly ruts into you from behind, riding out the buzz in its entirety. His pelvis presses against your ass while you, knock-kneed and fucked full, drool into the pillows.

And when he slides out his spend drips from your pussy in pearly rivulets.

“Haa… Shrimpy’s the best,” he murmurs with a wicked, wild, wide-eyed smile.

You’re still panting when you come back to yourself, your head pressed into the pillow. Floyd nudges you over onto your back, and you oblige with minimal effort, lying in an exhausted sprawl. Your sight clears, color spilling in through bleary cracks.

He leans over you, assessing your hazy expression with a pleased hum. “Welcome back.”

You giggle and beckon him closer. “I’m back.”

Floyd leans down to kiss you and you reciprocate just as fiercely, your arms looping around his neck. You fall all over again, enchanted by molten kisses and wandering hands. The magic dissipates when your ringtone resounds, and you manage to tear yourself away by the third chime.

“Sorry. Let me silence it.”

“Kaaay.”

Floyd lounges on his side, the duvet draped across his hips. You crawl out of his arms to sort through the disorder on the floor. As you bend over to retrieve it, you catch him staring, his eyes following the length of your legs to the mess spattered between your thighs.

He flashes his sharp teeth at you in a broad, nonchalant grin. “It’s a pretty ass. I like what I like.”

You hold your phone up, smirking. “Pictures last longer.”

“And memories don’t, so you’d better stop by often so I won’t forget.”

“It’s a promise,” you tease, glancing at the screen as it brightens with a slew of missed messages. They’re all from Ace, and you scroll through them with mild interest. Apparently, Ace got into an argument with Grim over the pudding in the fridge. Both want it even though it has your name on it, and now Ace is being much too flattering in an effort to curry favor so that you’ll be inclined to let him have it. “He’s unbelievable…”

“Who is?”

“Ace.”

You sit on the edge of Floyd’s bed. He reads the texts over your shoulder and snorts. “Crabby tryin’ to get on your good side, huh?”

“Not sure why he’s bothering to ask, though. He steals food from me all the time. This shouldn’t be any different.”

“Maybe he likes ya.”

“As if. We’re just friends.”

“Yeah? You say that a lot.”

You crane your neck to look at him. “Do I really?”

“Mhm. If you and Jade are also ‘just friends,’ what does that make me and you?”

“I… Um. Hm.”

You watch your reflection on your darkened phone screen as it twists into something pensive. Tentatively, your fingers trace over the smooth glass. What are you and Floyd? You’re friends, but you’re also more than that. Surely, right? Friends don’t join their bodies in unholy communion. Or do they? That’s what you’ve done with Jade and you’re nowhere near romantically attached. Perhaps your relationship is some nebulous stage between friends and lovers?

Does Floyd even like me like that, or was this just a spur-of-the-moment fling?

“I…should go,” you say instead, standing up.

“Aww. But ya just got here. C’mon. Lemme get ya some water or somethin’ to eat. There’s no rush.” He reaches out for you, but you step back. His face falls. “Shrimpy…”

“Sorry. I just—it’s not your fault.” You refuse to meet his eyes as you collect your clothes from the floor, hurrying to dress yourself. “Thanks for the offer. Really, I appreciate it and this was a lot of fun. But I… I need to get back to make sure Ace and Grim don’t tear each other apart over a single cup of pudding.”

The fresh bites on your neck sting when your clothes brush against them, but nothing hurts more than Floyd’s downcast expression. You don’t want to leave, but you can’t stay and tiptoe around the answer to a question you’ve just started contemplating.

“We’ll talk later. Sorry…” You shuffle towards the door, tongue-tied and awkward. “I really did enjoy this.”

To your disappointment, Floyd doesn’t make any attempt to pursue. “See ya.”

“Yeah… See ya.”

You step out into the hall, the door shutting after you. The weight of it all comes crashing down like a disastrous surge of sea and you drag your hands over your face to stifle your regretful groan.

I messed up. I should’ve just confessed. The opportunity was right there, so why didn’t I? Why can’t I? What the hell is holding me back?

No, not a what. Rather, a who.

And you can’t bear to confront that.

Behind the door, sitting upright on Floyd’s bed, Jade musses his hair until that stray dark strand falls in its rightful place. There’s laundry to be done, and a clever cover-up must be fashioned to protect what already seems like an open secret. But right now he can’t be bothered to spring into action. Not when he’s still steeping in post-sex exhilaration, a corybantic smile etching itself onto his face.

It’s a glorious day.

“Can’t ya just dump it out if ya don’t wanna drink it?” Grim, who has spent the past three minutes observing you observing the glass vial, suggests with a harrumph. “Looks fishy. I don’t wanna drink it and I love drinkin’ stuff!”

You frown and lift it towards the window; the sun catches off the shiny surface, but its rays don’t break through murky cerulean. “Azul said I could add any part of myself to this and it would work. I added saliva, but the color went from white to this icky, impenetrable blue. It probably tastes just as bad as it looks. Gross! Now I’m not so sure I wanna uphold my end of our deal.”

“He’ll never know if you give it the slip.”

You fix Grim with a disapproving glower. “He’ll definitely know. He’s Azul.”

“I dunno what to tell ya, but if we keep chattin’ away like this we’ll miss first bell.” He hops off of the stool, lands perfectly on all fours, and struts out of the kitchen.

“Since when were you such a star student? Wait… First bell?” You gasp and dash past him. “Move, Grim! I’ll miss Floyd if I don’t hurry!”

On your way out, you tug your shoes on, taking care not to trip in your haste, and stuff the vial in your pocket.

“Jeez! Way to be a ‘star student’ and leave me to haul our heavy textbooks to Trein’s class!”

“Sorry! I’ll make it up to you at lunch! This is really important!” you call out, hurrying down the steps.

You’re breathless by the time you make it into the main building, taking in great gulps of air. A few students turn and stare, but you don’t pay them any mind as you weave through the crowded halls in search of Floyd’s classroom. You spot him then, lingering at the end of the corridor, and you hasten your gait to reach him.

“Floyd, oh, there you are! I need to talk to you. It’s about—”

“A good morning to you, too, (Name).”

Horrified, you come to a screeching halt. “Jade… Shit, I’m sorry. I thought that you—I mean, you look like Floyd from afar… Well, of course you do. What am I saying?” Inhaling a deep breath, you try again. “I don’t have time to talk. I gotta find Floyd. Also, our deal’s off. You don’t have to act like him anymore.”

“Oh my. How sudden. I wonder what brought this on.” He smiles behind a gloved fist. “Do enlighten me.”

Fidgeting from foot to foot, you glance left and right. “Look, I appreciate everything you’ve done. You’ve been a big help, but I’ve figured it out now. It was stupid and inconsiderate of me to make you pretend to be someone you’re not. So the game’s over. We can go our separate ways and all of this—” you gesture between him and you— “will be behind us. Done and dusted. Dead and buried. Part of the past.”

Jade tilts his head, playing clueless for another second before he decides to let it click. “Ah. I suppose this means you intend to confess? In that case, please don’t let me stop you. Floyd’s already left for his class. I doubt he’s gone very far.”

You’re already pushing past him, your nerves riddled with hope. “Thanks! See you around!”

“It was an enjoyable month.”

Taking pause, you turn to look at him. Even though his hand is across his chest and he’s issuing you a cordial smile, you can’t tell if he’s being truthful. It can’t have been all that enjoyable to play such an elaborate part. Or perhaps it’s not the part but rather the delights that came with it: dinner, conversation, and companionship. If it weren’t for these unorthodox methods, you and Jade wouldn’t be nearly as close as you are now.

Somehow you’ve become friends in all of this chaos.

“Oh. Uh, yeah. Sure. It was definitely…a month.”

Before awkwardness can balloon between the both of you, you step into a sprint and disappear around the corner. Confidence swells within you. Now that you’ve emptied your mind of Jade, you can focus entirely on Floyd and your very impromptu confession.

There really wasn’t anything there after all, you think as you round another corner. I can’t believe I got worked up over something so silly, and it was completely nonexistent!

As if foretold by fate itself, a meeting strung in the stars, you notice Floyd at the end of the hall. Unable to contain yourself, you run the rest of the way to catch him. The morning bell resounds then and students heed its toll, filing into their respective classrooms. But you’re here for someone who’s so much better than your perfect attendance record, and he happens to be looking your way.

“Hey, it’s Shrimpy! Whatcha up to?”

“Morning, Floyd! Do you have a minute? I was hoping we could talk.”

He nods. “Wasn’t really feelin’ class anyways.”

“Yeah, same here!”

“So what’s up? You have somethin’ to tell me?”

“Right! Yes!”

I have to tell him. I can’t keep running away.

“It’s about that day… Um. I… First of all, I’d like to apologize for being weird and ruining the mood. I didn’t know how to explain our relationship, but I’ve sorted it out now. And if it’s okay with you, I’d like to be more than friends.”

Floyd blinks at you, stone-faced. That can’t be a good sign.

Endeavoring to salvage this one-sided chat, you attempt to elaborate on your previous declaration. “You asked what we were that day and I… I couldn’t give you an answer because I was scared of admitting it, and I had no idea where we’d go from there. The truth is—I really like you. A lot. I have for a while now, and if you like me I wouldn’t mind making it official.”

You’re doing fine, you tell yourself, but you’re wringing your hands and Floyd won’t stop looking at you like you’ve grown fins.

“Oh, I get it,” he says after a long moment. “So Shrimpy likes me? That right?”

You nod. Anxiety squeezes your heart in a fierce fist.

“I’m flattered. Not every day a li’l Shrimpy tells me she’s got a thing for me.” Floyd grins and stuffs his hands in his pockets. You’ve imagined this same scenario a dozen times, but your brain never accounted for how casual he’s acting. “Sorry, but I’m afraid I can’t accept your feelings.”

“W-What?”

You…misheard him, right? He didn’t just say that, did he?

“I think you’re super cool, but that’s it.” He shrugs. “S’better stayin’ friends, ain’t it? ’Sides, you and Jade are pretty close. Not gonna lie, I thought you were a pair this whole time. Didn’t know it was this serious, though.”

Much like the blood pumping through your veins, your heart freezes over. “N-No… No, not at all! Jade and I are just friends.”

“C’mon, Shrimpy. I’m not stupid.”

“I… I don’t understand. Floyd, we… We…” You swallow encroaching tears and bolster the ebbing strength in your voice. “Did our time together mean anything to you?”

“Course it did! Still does. We’re friends. That’s not gonna change.” Floyd cards a hand through his hair and sighs. “Shrimpy, you’re great and all, but if you’re with Jade you don’t gotta lie to me. I’ve been smellin’ him on ya since day one.”

“But we’re not together!” He raises a disbelieving brow, and you groan. “I’m serious. I don’t know why I smell like him. We don’t wear the same perfumes. Wait. Does Jade even wear perfume? I don’t think I’ve ever heard him talk about it. So maybe you’re just smelling my perfume! That has to be the reason—”

Floyd gives your shoulder a consoling squeeze. “I’m not mad or anything. S’cool if you wanna mess around with Jade. I don’t care what you do.” His face darkens with a frown. “Just don’t lie about the obvious.”

“But I’m not lying! We’re not an item or couple—whatever it’s called! I… I like you, Floyd. I always have.”

“Maybe ya shoulda figured that out before ya started lettin’ Jade mark ya.”

Shock and revulsion prickle your skin. You open your mouth to object, but every rational explanation remains jumbled. Floyd issues you a lopsided grin, which adds even more salt to an already gaping wound.

“Hey, if it makes ya feel any better, Jade’s a good guy. He’ll look out for ya. ’Sides, Shrimpy’s better off with a responsible type.” He reaches out to ruffle your hair, but you step away.

All of those times where you thought Floyd may have been courting—the flirty remarks, the perfume, the kiss, and even the sex—were those merely platonic gestures twined with friendly affection? You may have been able to believe the others, but you’re certain there’s a line between platonic and romantic. And sex must fall in the latter category. It has to. If not, was it all just temporary, fleeting fun?

Were you just an experience for Floyd and his mercurial mannerisms? A new toy for his enjoyment, intended to occupy his mind for however long you proved your worth and shelf life.

You turn swiftly on your heel, your throat closing up. “T-Thanks for hearing me out, at least,” you mutter, blinking away hot tears. “I… I’ll see you later.”

If you weren’t so devastated, you’d have commended yourself for your impeccable restraint. You manage to walk away without sparing him a single glance, but the minute you’re out of sight and earshot you’re running through the desolate halls, seeking solace in solitude. The tears come with the ache, a pain so gutting it has you near-wailing as you navigate labyrinthe passages. You hardly care if any straggling students spot you. You’re too crestfallen to fret over what others might think when they look at you.

Heartache headlines your thoughts as you stumble into a stagger, your chest heaving from the run and your excessive bawling.

I know it was stupid to have hope, but I was so positive I had a chance… It seemed that way when we slept together, so what happened? What changed? You wipe furiously at your face, but it does nothing to stop the incessant downpour. This is a mess. I never should’ve confessed. I did everything wrong. And what’s worse is he didn’t take me seriously because he thinks I’m dating his brother!

It doesn’t make any sense, but then this drastic change of heart is so characteristic for Floyd that you struggle to think of any other valid causation.

Did he get bored of me? Am I really that terrible to hang out with? You shake your head. It’s not that. It’s Jade and his stupid scent and that stupid marking and—

You feel the vial in your pocket then, straining against form-fitting fabric. Sniffling weakly, you dig it out and peer at your blotchy-eyed reflection in the glass.

I might as well see what this potion does. I have nothing else to lose, and there’s no way I can go to class looking like this.

As if your body was subconsciously aware of your decision to skip, you find yourself standing in the Mirror Chamber minutes later. Quiet and dimly lit, the room has a certain coldness to it when you venture further inside and approach the Dark Mirror. Your distressed face blinks back at you from the blank surface, and you cringe once you notice the smudges in your makeup.

“I’m such a loser,” you mutter, scrubbing at your cheeks. “Crying like a baby over some guy…”

A guy who meant the world to me. A guy who was so much more than just some guy.

You yank the cork out of the vial and, steeling yourself, chug it in one determined gulp. It goes down bitter, tainting your tongue with a foul, brackish aftertaste. Disgusted, you wipe your lips and stuff the empty glass in your pocket.

“(Name)?”

You whirl, half-expecting to find Floyd waiting to accept you with open arms. Instead, Jade stands in the doorway. His brows are knit in concern. Authentic concern, you realize. Tears overflow at the sight of him, tracking down your cheeks in salty streaks.

“I do hope I’m not intruding.”

“You are. Go away.”

Undeterred, Jade covers the distance to reach you. “My apologies. I couldn’t help but notice you seem to be in dire need of a friend.”

You force out a sardonic laugh. “Right. Because you’re just the friend I want.”

“At the very least, may I offer my condolences? I can only assume the worst after seeing the state you’re in.”

“You just did. Now leave. I don’t want to see anyone right now, especially not you.” But he isn’t offended by the hostility in your voice. Rather, he procures a handkerchief from his uniform pocket and offers it to you. Heaving a defeated groan, you snatch it and blow your nose into the soft linen. “I don’t suppose you want something in return for your kindness?”

“Not at all. If anything, I merely wish to see your happy, dry face.”

You roll your eyes. “I’ll feel much better once you get lost.”

“And leave you to mourn all by your lonesome? I couldn’t possibly.”

You dab at your eyes with the sodden, snotty handkerchief. “It’s not funny.”

“You’re right. It’s not.” Jade smiles and bumps hips with you. “If it’s worth anything, there is so mush-room in my heart for you.”

Your face scrunches with odium. “Ew… That’s so cheesy.” You’re reminded of Floyd when you look at him, and it fills you with another bout of anguish. Why can’t he be Floyd? You bury your face in your hands and sob. “This is the worst! I wanna disappear. Drown in the Coral Sea and get lost forever. Then no one would ever have to see me like this and I’ll never have to face Floyd again.”

“Surely you don’t mean that.”

“I do. Now leave me be. I wanna wallow in peace.” When you fail to hear his shoes clicking against tile, you peek at him through the cracks in your fingers. “It’s hopeless, Jade. Floyd doesn’t feel the same. There’s still no way for me to go home. And now I don’t even know if Azul’s potion is going to work, which means I’ll be breaching our contract!”

“Quite the series of unfortunate events, no?”

“So please just go away.”

Sighing, you press your fingertips to the Dark Mirror’s warped surface and admire the ripples spreading outward from where your palm rests. It’s almost hypnotic, drawing you in with its alluring opacity. You lean closer to inspect the cloudy mirage, placing both hands against it, but that proves to be a grave mistake. Tugged in by some invisible force, you stumble and fall through. You don’t have time to scramble to safety, for there’s a blinding flash of light and then you’re engulfed in smothering silence.

You feel it first—the weightless cradling of waves—and when you open your eyes a stunning seascape greets you. The sandy floor and colorful coral reefs extend in endless stretches. Schools of fish pass overhead in a mosaic of hues. You gape at your mystical surroundings, realize you’re underwater right as the awe settles in, and hurry to swim to the surface. But when you try to kick your legs out, a tail moves instead, sloppily propelling you upwards. You somersault and flail like you’re falling, but you aren’t drowning. In fact, you can breathe.

Whoa. This is so strange. How exactly do I swim?

It takes an awkward minute for you to get a hold of your bearings, but once you do you take stock of your newfound mer anatomy. Your hands are webbed, fingers curling into sleek, sharp claws, and fins protrude from your arms and back. They flutter like fine skirts in the current. Your tail is just as fetching; speckled with red and pink shades, it matches the coloration found on your other fins.

“So that’s what Azul’s potion does,” you mutter, flexing your tail. “Amazing…”

You feel along your body for scales and gills, yelping when your fingers brush over the latter. They’re soft and sensitive, shuddering in the current.

I’m a mer…

It finally sinks in, and you roll around in the sand, whooping and shouting in excitement.

“I’m a mer! How cool is that?!”

You push off from the sea floor, testing your new tail with a few clumsy strokes. Much to your surprise, it doesn’t take very long for you to learn the motions. Within minutes you’re gliding through the water like a bullet. You hug the bottom of the ocean, running your fingers through the sand as you swim expert circles around the same rock formation.

Suddenly, your broken heart doesn’t feel so cumbersome anymore. Your tears mix in pelagic waters, but after touring your vast surroundings for a while you can’t even tell if you’re still crying. While keeping up with the current, you swim past an octopus who drags itself across the sandy floor, its muddy-orange tentacles curling like snakes.

“So pretty,” you whisper, smiling sadly. “I wish Floyd was here…”

It hurts.

There’s no way to circumvent the pain without further opening the emotional lacerations left by rejection and misunderstanding. If you had smelled like yourself, would he have accepted your confession? Would the two of you be walking through the halls, holding hands and chatting like a couple? Or would it have played out the same regardless of Jade’s involvement with you?

If Floyd never loved you to begin with, that would mean all of your practice confessions and subsequent embarrassment were for naught. Maybe Jade was right and this entire thing was nothing more than an amusing spectacle.

Thanks a lot, Jade, you think, seething. Instinctively, you scrub your tears away even though there’s no point to it when you’re surrounded by water. How did I even start smelling like him in the first place? We didn’t wear the same shirt or anything like that… Ugh. Morays are so confusing.

But, gripe and whine as you might, there’s nothing you can do to change an immutable fact: Floyd does not love you.

And it really hurts.

You know the sadness will soon subside and, months later, you’ll look back on this very moment and laugh about your misfortune. Despite that, the passage of time and its healing properties don’t provide an iota of relief.

Don’t think about it anymore. You turn over on your back and float through the water. Since I’m here, I should gather the supplies Azul wanted.

You rack your brain for the list and come up empty. It’s then when you realize Azul never shared this list with you and that, had you visited him prior to your emotional tragedy, he likely would have told you.

“Damn it! Now how am I supposed to get what he wants?” you complain, thrashing your tail as if it’s your legs and you’re trying to throw a tantrum. “I could guess… Or maybe he wants a little of everything?”

You attempt to put yourself in Azul’s head, concentrating on all of the spell ingredients you’ve learned in alchemy class, but none of them seem to fit what Azul might be seeking. After all, anyone can acquire seaweed and shells and mer’s tears. Azul must be after the scarcities of the sea. What those scarcities could be, you haven’t the faintest inkling.

The sea floor slopes down, and you follow the dip towards what looks to be the yawning mouth of an underwater grotto. It certainly looks so with its massive stalactites and stalagmites, which reminds you of the crooked maw of a beast. It would have been a foreboding sight if you came down here with a limited supply of oxygen and scuba fins, but you’re a mer and nothing can startle you. Not even the depths at which you exist.

You poke your head inside the opening. Before you can investigate any further, though, a shadow passes overhead. It slips through the water like a silent assassin. You’re not unnerved when you track the length of the perimeter, looking to and fro for the mysterious figure you caught in your peripheral, but the longer you spend looking the quieter your surroundings become.

The fish scatter.

And then terror descends, only he’s a familiar one. He’d be a sight for sore eyes if he wasn’t such an eyesore.

“You’re living up to your surname.”

He smiles, teeth glinting. “My, my. Aren’t you just tickled pink?”

“Which is weird because all I see is red when I look at you.”

“Is that so? The depth at which we’re at swallows most vibrancy, and yet you remain wonderfully bright. Are you sure you’re not a fallen star?”

You fix him with a nasty glare, but it does nothing to deter him. “Seriously… Why are you here?”

He circles you, his serpentine body winding slowly. “Would you believe me if I told you I came to check on you?”

“Depends. What’s your reason for checking on me?”

“As I’m sure you know, Azul is not partial to insolvency.”

You slide past him, smacking him with your caudal fin. “Good to know I’m so cherished.”

“I wouldn’t dare let a dear friend drown. I’ve heard drowning is very miserable business for humans.”

“More miserable than a broken heart?”

He catches up to you. His size easily overtakes you in length and strength, marking him as a formidable predator. Even with your claws, you can’t compete with his pointed teeth, sleek, sturdy build, and razored fins. He’s a natural hunter, whereas you feel like more of an ornamental fish in comparison.

“Depends. Will you recover from death?”

“I’ve spent so much time with you, so I’d say it’s possible.”

“And I was ready to save you should you find yourself in peril.”

You roll your eyes. “That’s about as comforting as a blatant lie.”

A few beats pass between the both of you. You don’t try to fill the silence, too busy fawning over your aquatic surroundings to bother. Jade analyzes you with furtive glimpses.

“I’m aware our deal is void and that I’m no longer your Floyd…” He swims closer, nudging you with his shoulder. “May I be your Jade instead? You can be my grouper.”

“Your what?”

“Many mages believe transformation potions provide insight into what species you may have been if you weren’t born in your current form.”

“So you’re saying, if I was a mer like you and Floyd, I’d be a…grouper? Is that what I am?”

“A strawberry grouper, to be precise. Very fitting, is it not?”

“Would Floyd like me better if I had been born a grouper instead of a human?”

Jade laughs. You swat at him in flustered retaliation. “It has nothing to do with species.”

“It has everything to do with species,” you snap with a scowl. “Wasn’t the mermaid princess forbidden from pursuing a relationship with her human prince?”

“That’s true, yes. Although I fail to see your point, considering it worked out in the end.”

“What I’m saying is—if we were both mers, maybe it’d be easier.”

“I suppose it would be considerably easier to foster a deeper bond if you lived in the sea alongside us, but I’m afraid love doesn’t always work like that.”

“How would you know?”

Jade gazes heavenward, and for the first time you see sadness in his sharp, intelligent eyes. “I’ve fallen in love with the moon and she is forever out of my reach, so I know what it’s like to wish on something that may never happen. Sometimes I catch myself wondering if the dismal nature of my situation would change if I had been the singular star in her universe. Perhaps then she would finally see me.” He glances at you and attempts a smile. “There are galaxies of stars up there, but the star she fancies happens to shine brighter than me.”

Oh… So he does know what that feels like.

“I’m sorry.”

“Whatever for?”

“I don’t know. I guess it just felt like the right thing to say.” Your shoulders rise in a weak shrug. “The moon is impossible, Jade. Your romance is doomed.”

“All the more reason to appreciate her.”

“Why haven’t you given up?”

Jade swims ahead, humming his contemplation. “There are astounding amounts of everything in this world. There will always be plenty of fish in the sea—just as there will always be plenty of humans on land. But there is only one of her. So even if she doesn’t look at me, even if our romance has been doomed from the start, I will never stop loving her. She’s the only one in my universe.”

“Huh… That’s a beautiful way to put it. If it’ll help, I can act like her and you could practice your confession.”

“We’ve come full circle. Perhaps a confession wouldn’t hurt… Ah. Forgive me for adding to your despondency with my own woes.”

“No, it’s fine. I don’t mind.” But then you reflect on his familiar phrasing and a sneaking suspicion crawls into your head. Unwilling to confront it, you change the subject. “So what’s the real reason you’re here? To watch me struggle to collect all of these unnamed things for Azul?”

“I considered that, but it would be much too cruel of me to subject you to such ridicule.”

“You’re an asshole. Just tell me what I’m supposed to get.”

With a chuckle, Jade rattles off every item. You recognize some of them—pearls, starfish, a Great White’s tooth—but the rest are resources you’ve never even heard of.

“Noctiluca… What’s that?”

“Bioluminescent algae.”

“Oh. Are you sure we’ll be able to find all of this stuff? Some of it sounds, like, super rare.”

“It’s possible. With me as your guide—”

“You’re really going to stick around?”

“And let you swim right into the maw of a predator? I’m not monstrous.”

“You sure you’re not that predator?”

Jade swims ahead, craning his neck to eye you hungrily. His lengthy tail curls around you and squeezes playfully. “Shall I hunt you now and we can determine which of us is the true predator?”

“Don’t ask questions you already know the answer to.”

“It’s simply a hypothetical.”

“Why would we even hunt each other in the first place?” You duck down to sift through the silt for shells or, if you’re lucky, a shark’s tooth. “I thought we had something.”

“Do we?”

It’s too late for you to take that back. “We have mutualism,” you correct yourself, pulling a palm-sized pink conch from the sand.

“Some might call that friendship, (Name).”

“Friends with you? As if. You’d trade me for this shell just because it’s funny.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure. You’re worth more than one, at least.” Jade joins you on the seabed, his larger, webbed hands searching alongside yours. “Your companionship is invaluable to me.” His hand bumps yours in the sand, blackened fingertips twining with yours.

“You know… Floyd told me something.” You grip his hand tightly to prevent him from retreating. With the way he perks up, muscles stretched taut with anticipation, you don’t think he intends to flee. “He said you’re awfully touchy with me and that you’re not usually like this.”

“You provide me with the most entertaining reactions. Besides—” his voice lowers for effect— “was touch not the foundation of our deal?”

“Not anymore.” You release his hand from your hold and dart forwards. “Although I guess it was kinda pointless. All of that just to be rejected by Floyd in the end.” You round on him once he’s within your proximity, prodding his chest with a claw. “Because now he thinks I’m dating you. Apparently I smell like you. I have no idea what that could mean, but it obviously isn’t a good thing if it’s one of the reasons Floyd turned me down.”

“Plenty of mers scent their partners. It’s territorial—a means of proving to others that they’re a bonded pair. It’s also convenient when they need to locate their beloved in a crowd.”

The conch falls from your hands, floating back to its resting place on the sandy floor. Shocked, you pin him with a wide-eyed stare. “You… You’ve been…scenting me?”

He nods.

“On purpose?”

“Just for fun.”

Your jaw drops in disbelief. So Jade sabotaged your chances with Floyd. Jade did. All for fun. Jade was scenting you on the sly. For fun. Fun!

Now you’re really viewing him in scarlet.

“Jade Leech, I’m going to kill you!” You lunge at him, blunt teeth bared and claws out. He opens his arms to receive you, smiling all the while. “You did that on purpose—to prevent me from getting with Floyd! What the fuck?!”

You crash into him, and the impact sends the two of you tumbling through the water in a tangle of limbs. He indulges in this one-sided snafu, albeit without the hostility you’re so clearly demonstrating. Jade wraps himself around you to hold you still while you attempt to gouge his eyes.

Soon, the scrap mellows out into a struggle for escape. You try to slip out of his constrictive grasp, but every time you think you might have attained freedom he tightens his hold on you. Eventually, with no other way out, you submit, deflating in his arms like a popped balloon.

“If you wanted a hug, you could have asked. There’s no need to be so circuitous about it.”

“The last thing I want is a hug from you! Now let go of me!” He allows you to squirm out of his coils. You swim in circles, which you now realize is the mer equivalent of pacing. “I can’t believe you. What did you have to gain from any of this? ‘Just for fun,’ my foot! You just wanted to ruin my life like the stupid, asshole eel you are!”

“I was hoping to cushion you after the inevitable.” Jade tilts his head at you, feigning sympathy. “Did you really think Floyd would have reciprocated? You heard him yourself. He considers you a friend. Nothing more and nothing less.”

“Cushion me? The only thing you did was make me smell like I rolled around in the cushions with you!” You swipe at him, but he moves away on reflex. “If Floyd sees me as a friend, why would he sleep with me?”

“So that’s why our room smelled so thickly of you.”

“Don’t play dumb.”

“Then don’t ask dumb questions.”

He’s the worst, you think, repeating it like a mantra. The worst. The worst. The worst.

But then he’s the only one who chases after you even when you push him away.

At that, you laugh. Jade blinks at you, startled by your sudden shift in attitude.

“This is a mess,” you bewail, shaking your head. “Out of all the people at NRC, I can’t believe you’re the one seeing me like this.”

“How many times has it been now?”

“Shut up.”

Jade chuckles. “You may find it undesirable, but to me it’s quite the charming trait. Even at your worst, tears and all, you’re still yourself. It’s what I admire most about you.” He approaches you, minding the icy vitriol in your scowl, and cups your cheek. “After all, did we not agree to be a mess together?”

You meet his mismatched stare, openly admiring his well-sculpted body and the patterns striped along his arms and tail. There isn’t an ounce of Floyd to his mannerisms. From the way he carries himself to the purr of his voice to the irritating quips he loves to spout, he’s Jade. And you wouldn’t have him any other way. He is your friend, and denial isn’t enough to convince you otherwise of this dysfunctional, disorganized friendship.

Sighing, you tear your gaze away. “We’re a mess, yeah. But that doesn’t mean I’m okay with smelling like you! That’s such a dirty trick!”

“I can be dirtier if it pleases.”

“It does not please! Start counting your blessings so I can properly kick your ass!”

“I wish you luck in that endeavor,” he says, offering you a toothy grin before turning away and propelling himself towards the surface.

You watch him go, debating whether it’s worth it to pursue him. This feels like the beginning of another game, but you can’t calculate the danger level. It’s the ocean; the possibilities are just as vast.

You’re an enigma, Jade Leech. I’ll never understand you.

Leaving all thoughts of Floyd and your shattered heart on land—stowed away in the shadows of the Mirror Chamber—you accept his proposal for a chase. He doesn’t have to tell you he’s pleased when you zip after him, weaving through the tight crevices and openings in hulking rock formations. Your shadow eclipses colorful coral reefs and tall seagrass. Jade moves much smoother and quicker than you, sensing all of the twists and turns before they even come up.

Of course he’d be a natural, you think, impressed with his graceful slither. He grew up in these waters playing tag. He and Floyd have probably chased each other through places just like this one hundreds of times.

Still, you aren’t about to let your inexperience get in the way of capturing him.

Between your on-off hunt and collecting ingredients for Azul, in which Jade goads you into continuing the chase when you least expect it, time passes above. You’re not sure how far into the day you are, as your surroundings hardly change beneath the surface, but you forget all about it when you swim through a kelp forest in hopes of finding a starfish. Even with your heightened mer senses and predatory assets, you keep close to Jade as the both of you glide through strands of kelp.

“When I was an elver, I used to believe starfish were stars who fell from outer space.”

You flinch at the sound of his voice. Everything seems much louder in tranquility. “Oh. Uh. Why’s that?”

“My mother often told us that merfolk who have passed on become stars in the sky and that there are times in which those same stars yearn for the sea. But they can never hope to return naturally, for they are bound to the sky. Thus, they force themselves to fall, lose their shine when they land in the ocean, and become sea stars.”

You keep your eyes glued on the stretching forest ahead. “That’s neat. I probably would’ve believed that story if I was a mer. We tell all kinds of stories about merfolk where I’m from.”

“Is that so?”

“Merfolk don’t exist in my world, so they make for great legends.”

“A world in which merfolk are nonexistent… How fascinating.” Jade gazes at you, his hand twitching towards yours. Rather than acting on his innermost desires, he curls his hand into a fist and it hangs limply at his side. “You must have been over the moon to have met Floyd.”

“And you and Azul!” you add with a smile. “And I have you to thank for teaching me all about moray mers.”

“I’d be happy to teach you more, should you be willing to learn…”

Jade’s looking at your lips next. The both of you are so close. Just a little closer and you could…

“Hey, I think I see a starfish!” You hurry ahead before the tension can become any more magnetizing.

Do not make him your rebound, you lambaste while retrieving the star-shaped creature. If you had legs, you’d kick some sense into yourself. Just because he looks like Floyd doesn’t mean he is Floyd.

You bring the starfish back to Jade, who bottles it in a bubble and whisks it away with a flick of his wrist. You’re not sure where any of these items are going or how he’s keeping track of them, but as long as they’re gathered you aren’t going to question it. Magic works in mysterious ways, or so you’ve determined after spending a year of your life in Twisted Wonderland.

From there, you return to your place at Jade’s side, albeit with a healthier distance than before, and exit the kelp forest. You scan the vast vicinity as if you might find something unusual amidst all of this blue. It reminds you of every Floyd fantasy you’ve ever had—the ones in which you were living happily ever after in the sea. As ideal as those delusions were, you realize now that they were just as impossible as Jade’s infatuation with the moon.

“It wouldn’t have worked anyway,” you admit, to which Jade hums his acknowledgment. “What would I do if Crowley was able to send me home? How could I choose between my loved ones there and my loved ones here?”

“Perhaps you’ll never have to choose.”

“What do you mean?”

“Supposing the headmage is shirking his investigation… Well, that would certainly eliminate the difficulty of choice.”

You laugh. “The first magicless student to graduate from Night Raven College. What a headline.”

“Sensational news,” he adds in a dramatic tone.

“As if the illustrious NRC and the oh-so-kind Headmage couldn’t get any popular.”

Jade chuckles. “Have you thought that far ahead?”

“What? About the future?” You slide into a somersault while Jade swims above you. He stares down at you as you spin yourself dizzy. “Don’t want to. I have no idea where I’ll be after graduation or what I’ll do. It kinda scares me.”

“You’re more than welcome to lean on me should you ever require my assistance.”

“What’s that thing Azul always says? Pay the heavy toll to cross the bridge? I’d like to graduate debt-free, thank you very much.”

“I’ll always be here for you.”

You blink up at him, shocked by his benign declaration. After a moment of floating aimlessly on your back while he swims overheard, you giggle. “Come on. Be real, Jade. That’s impossible.”

“Is it? You’re a mermaid, are you not?”

“Yeah, but that’s temporary. Besides, a deal like that is way too mutualistic. We’d just seem like obligations to one another.”

“Must it be transactional?”

“What else would it be?”

“A friendly favor.”

“I don’t trust that… Somewhere along the line I’ll get trapped in a scam.”

“And I will rescue you.”

You roll your eyes and turn over on your stomach, propelling yourself forwards in hopes of leaving him and this conversation behind. He mirrors your slow pace, twisting himself to loop around so that you’re above and he’s below. He waves. You groan.

He just won’t quit, will he?

“Okay, let’s be hypothetical. Say I accept your help for the future. What would you want in return?”

“What indeed?”

“I doubt you’ll want a lifelong taste-tester.”

He shakes his head, soft, teal locks swaying with the motion. Bathed in dappled light, he looks breathtaking. Too good to be true. An echo of the supernal, enchanting and arresting in that weird, whimsical way you’ve grown to appreciate.

He’s so annoying.

“Then what, Jade? Stop being obtuse.”

He smiles, sharp features softening, and says, “I would like to continue being your friend.”

“That’s all?”

He nods. “That’s all.”

“I find that hard to believe.”

“Well, what do you think I might want?” He reaches for you, his hands running up your arms to tug you closer. “If I asked for your hand, would you give it?”

You float above him, not quite chest to chest yet. “Marital mutualism, huh?”

“It’s cost-effective and comes with many benefits.”

“Like?”

“You could be my taste-tester indefinitely. I would cook for you every day. All of your favorite foods, and you can share your critique.”

“You’re not selling it,” you mutter, impassive.

He pulls you within kissing distance. “You can continue to hone your techniques with me.”

You open your mouth to retort, embarrassment scraping at your throat, but a distant twinkle in the dimming depths distracts you. There’s another flash of light and then, seconds later, dozens of lights surround you. You swim out of his grasp to explore this curiosity, your confusion segueing into excitement once you spy hundreds of bright tendrils. Moon jellyfish illuminate the area, casting you and Jade in bewitching bioluminescence. You whirl to view all of them at once, your eyes wide with wonder.

“It’s amazing…” you whisper.

Jade observes you from where he lurks in the shadows below, a wistful look in his stare. It adds deceptive age to his youthful features, but you don’t notice that. Bold and brave, you venture deeper into the fray, weaving through the fantastical cluster with finesse. The jellyfish hang suspended in the gloom, and they remind you of little lanterns the further you swim. This sight is a treasured rarity—something you’d never be able to experience firsthand like this if you were viewing it through thick aquarium glass.

This view is breathtaking! I can’t believe Jade and Floyd grew up in such a wonderful place.

On any other day, the boundless sea may have terrified you if you were reading about it in a textbook or watching divers’ found footage. But right now you’re in awe of these magnificent creatures as they drift in calm currents. Your first visit in the Coral Sea had been on a strict time crunch, and you hadn’t gotten the chance to explore any further than the grounds of the Atlantica Memorial Museum. The second visit had been one of leisure, if only because you were no longer arranging gambles with Azul in an effort to free the anemones. And now you’ve returned, equipped with fins and the promise of unforgettable sights.

And Jade’s with you.

He was there for your previous times, too, his presence mostly unremarkable. While you were loving Floyd from afar, he was there. You’ve always wondered why he stayed and entertained your mischief. You’re not anyone’s dream girl; you’ve never been the first choice, and that’s a part of life you’ve made peace with.

When you’re with Jade, you’re made the first and last choice. The only choice.

“Jade, are you seeing this? It’s so pretty! You’re—” you turn and almost bump heads. He’s so close and— “glowing…”

“My, my. Is that a bona fide compliment?”

“No. I’m serious. You’re glowing!”

He’s something of an angler with his mesmerizing markings. The patterns on his body are bright with a shocking luminosity, so radiant that you lose all interest in the jellyfish. You’re transfixed by him, and it’s purely instinct when you seize his hands to inspect them. He shrinks away, diffident.

“Ah. So it would seem… Forgive me for outshining the jellyfish.”

Your brows furrow. “You’re being weird.” Releasing him, you orbit him like he’s the sun and you’re a spellbound planet. He continues to pack himself into something small. “Are you not supposed to glow?”

“This is a perfectly normal facet of moray mer behavior.”

“So then what’s up? You’re avoiding me.” It hits you then, and a wide grin cuts into your cheeks. “Are you…embarrassed?”

Jade flushes up to his fins. You didn’t think it was possible, but the intensity at which he glows increases. “I fear I may have underestimated my own biology.”

“This is new! Jade Leech acting shy? I never thought I’d live to see the day.”

He forces a hollow chuckle. “I suppose it was inevitable.”

“What was?”

“This is the culmination of any mer’s attraction.”

Your heart stumbles in your chest. “Wait. Is this—does this mean you…”

“When mers wish to mate or attract a mate, they… Well, to be forthright, we glow. Floyd and I are bioluminescent by nature, but this glow is different. Ah, but that much is now apparent…”

You stare at him in all of his coruscating glory. “You want to mate with…me?”

“If you’ll have me.”

“Oh, you’re serious,” you murmur, breathless. Hesitantly, you approach him. “Then can I—may I take a closer look?”

“Please do as you see fit. Body language can’t possibly get any more candid than this now, can it?”

You giggle. “Seems pretty treacherous, too.”

“To think biological imperative would be my undoing…”

Your hand splays across his bicep, tracing the luminous bands wrapped around it. He really is a magnificent merman.

One more game, you promise yourself, restraint as thin as Jade’s lukewarm lies, and we’ll never play again.

“I like it. This is the most honest you’ve ever been with me.”

“Charming, is it not?”

“Very.”

He gathers you in his arms, and you mold yourself to him like you’ve done so many times in the past. You’re taken to the seafloor next, lowered onto the sand amidst wavering seagrass while he presses his pelvis to yours. You scrabble for a handhold on his broad shoulders, arching up into him when he rocks his hips. His tail winds around yours, and he anchors himself to you at the bottom of the sea. Above you, jellyfish swarm. Bulbous and bright, they backdrop Jade like a velvety void of stars and provide enough spotlight for you to see every inch of him. Although with just how much he shines, you wouldn’t even need the jellyfish.

If anything, they just make this tryst even more quixotic than it already is.

“After this—”

You start to speak, but you’re soon silenced when he fits his lips against yours, viciously venereal. Jade’s tongue slips past your parted lips, tangling around yours in a kiss that lasts far too long. Without the need for oxygen, neither of you separates. You throw your arms around him and kiss like you’re starved. Bubbles rise from your joined mouths, produced between gasps and groans. His teeth click against yours, and after minutes of canoodling you finally manage to yank yourself away.

Jade surges forward for another kiss, but you block him with your hand. “H-Hold on…”

“Is everything all right?”

“What will we be after this?”

“What would you like to be?”

You grab his face in both hands and hold him still. Your thumbs brush the markings stamped into his cheekbones. Jade trills at your touch, gills fluttering. A tiny heartbeat thrums beneath your fingertips.

“I… I’m not sure. Is it worth it to label our—this? Whatever this is?”

“Our mess. How does that sound?” His hand covers yours, pulling it away to hold it. “An exclusive dalliance between two.”

Friends with benefits, you think, every sense delirious. Desire feels hotter and heavier than it’s ever been, a puissant swirling in your stomach. You wonder if the potion altered your brain chemistry in some way—temporarily rewired your human instincts to suit that of a mer’s. That’s way too dangerous.

“And you’ll be yourself. You’ll be Jade, right?”

“I wouldn’t be anyone else, my dearest.”

“Let’s not go too far,” you warn, laughing. “Thin ice.”

“Is ‘my dearest’ not to your liking?” He leans in to bestow a chaste kiss to your throat, nuzzling the area right at the juncture between shoulder and neck. “I find it most fitting.”

“It’s…not the worst thing someone’s called me.”

He draws away, his eyes narrowed. “Not the worst? Others call you by delightful endearments?”

“Hmm? Jealous you’re not first?”

“Quite.” A scary smile curves his lips up. “So I’ll resolve to be the first by ridding myself of those inconsequential barnacles who think it wise to stick to you.”

“Wooow. How fearsome. But I’m just kidding. No one’s called me anything like that before…”

“So I’m the first?” he asks, proudly puffing his chest out.

“Yeah, yeah. Gloat all you want.”

“Gloat I shall. It’s tremendously gratifying to be your first.” Unlike his usual smiles, this one is pure and jubilant. There are no secrets concealed within, nor does he hide his teeth. “How fortunate I am to be here with you. To have met you. To bask in you…”

His eyes flutter shut as he grinds against you with more force, and you hiss out a soft moan when his slit, sticky with slick, slides against yours. Jade sighs, digging his claws into the sand to ground himself above you, and slips into a slow, gentle pace. You study his contorting features as he rubs himself against you, his brows furrowing and mouth dropping open in a tiny ‘o’ shape.

“You’re so sensitive,” you remark, toying with his quivering gills. Your fingers dip inwards to feel the spongy filaments, and he shudders through a low whine.

“Ah, yes… Mm, I suppose…I am.” His yellow eye is alight with lust when he cracks it open to peer at you. “I confess I’ve wanted this for a while.”

You shouldn’t push it any further than you already have, for you know the dangers that accompany the truth. You shouldn’t instill false hope in Jade when he’s already so hopeful, and you definitely shouldn’t play his game when you’re very aware of what waits for you at the end.

You shouldn’t, but you do.

“I can tell. I’ve only touched you here, but you’re already unraveling.”

“Then allow me to return the favor.”

You squeal when his claws drag along your gills, his touch careful despite his intentions. When he looks at you next, it’s as if he’s readying himself to devour you. He curls his fingers like an expert and you writhe beneath him, your lips parting in muted moans. Flustered, you attempt a glare, but it falls short.

“Now we’re a rightful match.”

You giggle between gasps. “Not fair… I don’t know mer anatomy like you do!”

“Would you like an experiential lesson?”

“Is that what we’re going to call this?”

“We could…” Jade moves based on vehement instinct, his hips colliding with yours. You throw your head back when his slit brushes against yours once more. It’s soft and squishy, entirely hairless. “If it were up to me, I’d prefer something far less technical.”

“Coitus isn’t doing it for you?”

He laughs. “I want to become a pair, if only for today, and make love to you.”

“‘Make love’ sounds a little…”

Jade searches your face for the underlying meaning in unspoken words. You try to hold eye contact, but your gaze wanders to the jellyfish above. His sigh draws your attention. “I understand. Making love would imply a romance that has not yet come to fruition.”

Even now, I’m trying to run away, you realize. What am I so afraid of?

Should you yield to his wishes? Should you be impetuous and play another dangerous game? You’ve agonized over similar questions before, weighing right and wrong on your internal scale, and the answer has always remained the same: You shouldn’t, no matter how tempting it may be. Because to play these games, you must be willing to tango with trouble.

I’m the worst at making good decisions and the best at making bad decisions. I really should work on flipping those…

“Just for today,” you concede with a grumble, “we’ll become a pair.”

Whether or not you come to regret it, playing pretend has always been your and Jade’s favorite pastime. That will never change.

“My, my. Aren’t you impressionable?” he jests with a coprophagous grin.

“Just shut up and kiss me, you stupid, asshole eel.”

And he does just that, capturing your lips in a tender kiss that’s all twisting tongues. You melt alongside him like sorbet in the sun, your tails braiding as one. There’s catharsis in crawling out of your head to focus on the present, where it’s just you and Jade in this silent sea of jellyfish. You push rationality and sorrow aside, favoring carnal delights instead, and entangle yourself in another tantalizing tryst. You kiss and bite in equal measure, digging your claws into his shoulders while he marks you, just as ferociously proprietorial.

Your lips are bitten puffy in the aftermath; you taste blood in your mouth, so you lick your lips clean of the substance. You bring him down to bite into his neck, hoping to match your bite with the ones he’s previously left on you, but he stops you.

“Dangerous,” he rasps, rolling his hips until something foreign sprouts between your bodies, the tip prodding at your own slit. You gasp and arch towards him. “Our blood is—mm—it’s not safe…for consumption.”

“Really?” you ask, not believing him for a second.

“Truly. Would I lie about that?”

“Coming from you, yes, you absolutely would.”

“I’m being truthful this time.” You roll your eyes at this time, and he elaborates: “Our blood is harmful to many mammals, especially humans. The tiniest amount could kill you. Even if your teeth may not be sharp enough to pierce my skin and you’re currently a mer, I wouldn’t want to risk it.

“Thought you would.” He raises an eyebrow, so you add, “You love risk.”

“Not if said risk involves endangering you. I care about you, (Name).”

You gaze sidelong at the sprawling seafloor. “R-Right…”

“If you were to ingest even a fraction of my blood, you’d suffer dreadful muscle cramps. I’m certain you value your life to some degree, yes? A bound heart would be most painful. Besides, I’m more fond of the risk with long-term consequences. Risks you neglect to see coming are intoxicating.”

“Yeah, that sounds more like you.” You giggle and run your fingers through his hair. He leans into your touch, rumbling with amusement. “So what are these ‘long-term consequences’ you love so much?”

In reply, he simply smiles.

“You look so creepy!”

You give his hair a punishing tug. That thing that had been poking you earlier—it wriggles free from the slit that once confined it. Jade lifts himself off of you so that you can view it. Thick and tapered, lined with an odd set of nubs, his cock is unlike anything you’ve ever seen before. You react on impulse, curiously wrapping your webbed hand around it. It twitches at the contact, curling into your palm as if seeking a fleshy embrace. You startle, eyes blown wide.

Jade sucks in a sharp breath, his jaw clenched tight. “Well, what do you think?”

“It’s…different. A good type of different!” You stroke him and watch the unique appendage squirm. “So this is it… Interesting. I never would’ve imagined this is what it looks like. And it moves as if it’s got a mind of its own!”

“Haa… I’m pleased to have shocked you.”

“You always do. Now what other tricks do you have in store?”

“Plenty. That I can assure you.”

You wonder if you should fear the implications of the plenty he’s mentioned, but those worries are knocked out of your head when he lowers himself on top of you. His cock slides against your slit. Your heart pumps into overdrive as you anticipate it, your body burning with a new sort of itch. Jade traces two fingers along your lips before spreading them in a slow, deep thrust. You thrash and buck up towards his hand.

“Don’t drag this out… Please, Jade, I want it—”

“How badly?”

You groan. “I hate you. I’m not going to say it.”

“Then you won’t receive it.”

“Please? What happened to friendly favors?”

“That doesn’t apply here.” His smile is so serrated it could slice you. “So I’ll ask once more—how badly do you want it?”

You mumble a desultory reply.

“You’ll have to speak up, my dearest.”

“I want it more than anything.”

“More than what?”

You shoot him a scary scowl. “I’m not saying it.”

“I can wait.” For the sake of being himself, he adds a third finger. It’s not enough, and every digit rests still and shallow inside. You cry out in displeasure. “More than whom, (Name)?”

“You’re so mean! I won’t say it!”

“C’mon, Shrimpy. You can do it…” Your walls flutter around him, and he whistles and withdraws his fingers. “Attagirl. Now say it and I’ll give it to ya.”

I’m going to kill him.

You have more energy to resist, but you’re too impatient to play the long game. So you fall victim to the act just as you have in the past. “Fine! Okay! I want it more than Floyd! I want you more than him. I… I want you inside me. You, Jade. Not Floyd.” With a huff, you add, “There. I said it. Does that satisfy you?”

“Oh, very much so.”

He thumbs at your hips, adjusting himself only slightly so that the tip of his cock is kissing your slit. You pull his ear fins in admonishment.

“Asshole eel.”

“Gorgeous grouper. The prettiest lady I’ve ever seen, even in obscenity,” he murmurs, opening his mouth at you.

Comprehending the message, you gape right back.

Unlike your original body, your mer form doesn’t require much preparation. It’s an odd thing, but when your gummy walls swallow more and more of that peculiar cock as it’s eased in you begin to think you were designed for sex. This form possesses the impossible flexibility you lack as a human, your slit suited to take the monstrosity that is his member even without the foreplay. You steal glances between your joined bodies and Jade’s face as it shifts through the stages of pleasure. He almost collapses on top of you once he’s fully sheathed inside, his grip on you so tight that his claws cut into your skin. The sting is but a whisper amidst the sheer fullness settled within your stomach.

“You—” he bows his head, groaning lowly— “truly are a dream…”

You throw your head back, whining when he hits a certain spot bundled within. You’d marvel at his ability to reach those areas if you weren’t already so overwhelmed with ardor. His movements are sloppy while he pursues the proper pace, filling you like it’s second nature. All you can do is hold on to his shoulders and revel in the sensations of this new body. When his hips connect with yours, it’s as if puzzle pieces click together. As if the two of you were made for this moment and every other one that’s come before it, a perfect combination reaction. As if, rather than Floyd, it was Jade who was meant to fill the cavern in your heart all along.

A dream…

It’s not just your presence that’s comparable to a dream. It’s the situation and the scenery—the players and their motivations who make the dream come alive, even if it’s built on physical attraction and lies. You wouldn’t call yourself an actor, for an actor is able to separate themself from their role, and you wouldn’t view Jade in that way either. You can’t. Not when he’s above you, every bodily, emotional truth on full display.

You’re just yourself, as you’ve always been, and Jade is Jade. There aren’t any roles to act out here at the bottom of the sea. No need for either of you to pretend to be people you’re not. No need for the phony Floyd to play a parody of a love that will never come to florescence.

If you keep saying such heartfelt things, I’ll fall.

You pull Jade down into another hungry kiss, to which he reciprocates with the same ravenous energy. The both of you gasp into the other’s mouth, desperate to reach orgasmic bliss way up in the troposphere. It didn’t seem so in the beginning, but now, when he fucks into you like this is his last day on Earth, it feels right. You’ve never viewed Jade in rose tint. In fact, he was so insignificant in your life that you failed to comprehend his very existence. Your sight often narrowed to encapsulate Floyd, exiling everyone else to your peripheral, and he became less of Jade Leech—his own person with unique hobbies and talents—and more of Floyd’s twin—the body double who could pass as Floyd if you looked at him from the wrong angle.

But now that same Jade Leech, the one you’d thought so little of before, is making love to you beneath a blanket of jellyfish.

Winding yourself around him, you hold firm to keep him pinned on top of you. “Please don’t stop! Please keep go—oh—going,” you plead, eyes rolling back when he does just that.

“As you wish,” he manages through grunts. “I won’t stop until you’ve had your fill—until all you can think of is me.”

“If that’s the c-case—” you dig your fingers into his back— “you—haa—will have to try harder.”

“Oh? And yet you were so easily satisfied when I was Floyd,” he teases, grabbing your hips and driving himself home in deep, riotous strokes. You tamp down a bawdy moan. “Am I not enough?”

“Not that. Different… It’s different when you’re—oh!” Your weak glare is directed at the jellyfish rather than Jade when he nips at your shoulder. Bolts of pleasure shiver through you when he sinks his teeth in to suck a vicious bruise into your skin. “You’re such a cheat.”

And so annoying. Just like that time in the botanical garden.

“But you’re thinking of me, are you not?”

Your eyes snap back to his. “Not true.”

“I’m flattered.”

“W-Whatever! It’s just beginner’s luck.”

“I’d wager you’ve thought of me before.”

“Only when it’s inconvenient.” You huff, but even that sound is swiftly replaced with another filthy moan when he bites into the spot just above your breast. “Not my fault you look like Floyd.”

“I don’t think that’s the reason,” he mutters into your skin, hips stalling out into something slow and steady.

Now you’re vexed, your pleasure withering at the lack of stimulation. “What does it matter?”

“Because I love—”

You pull him away from your collarbone to silence him with a kiss. He blinks at you in the aftermath, mystified.

“I know.” Strangely, the admission doesn’t unsettle you as much as you thought it would. “Your body told me.”

Plenty of times, in fact.

“You needn’t respond,” he mumbles, cradling your cheek in a fond hold. Sadness swells in his eyes, and your mushy heart skips a beat. “I’m well aware of how deep-rooted your affections for Floyd are.”

They’re subject to change, you almost say, but it sticks in your throat. Can they change? Is that possible?

“I… I’ve always kinda known, Jade.”

“Have you now?”

“You weren’t very covert with it.”

“I wasn’t trying to be.” His lips ghost over yours in an almost-kiss. “I have no reason to hide my feelings. I couldn’t even if I wanted to.”

You run your fingers over his gills, engrossed in his glimmer. “Why? I thought… I mean, isn’t hiding stuff your thing?”

He heaves a shuddering sigh at your titillating touches. “Loving in silence is far too suffocating for a moray.”

“I see…”

And you do. You see it in the way he holds you, the way he kisses you, the way he speaks to you. The way he looks at you, the way he cooks for you, the way he acts around you. From the moment you shook hands on a crazy deal, you were wrapped up in love. It was never about food critique or entertainment; those were secondary to the truth. Jade agreed to help because he loves you. Jade stifled himself—snuffed all of the pieces that comprise Jade—in order to be Floyd because he loves you. Jade spent hours learning new recipes he thought you’d like because he loves you. Jade is an ever-present force in your life no matter how often you shove him to the side because he loves you.

Everything he does—everything he is right now—stems from the love he feels for you.

You’ve always loved others, your heart much too big for its own good, so it’s new to feel that same amount of love reflected tenfold. Tears spot your lash line. Jade coos at you in a musical mix of foreign syllables and sounds. Mermish, you suspect.

“‘You’re beautiful in saltwater,’” he translates. “It’s a double entendre we say here, meaning you’re beautiful when you’re under the sea and when you’re crying. It comes from the two interpretations of saltwater.”

As if you couldn’t cry harder, you do.

“S-Stupid,” you whisper through your sniffles. “How can I not think of you when you say something like that?”

Jade rests his forehead against yours, smiling sincerely. “These are my feelings. You needn’t accept them, but I would be happy if you could acknowledge them.”

“I do. I hear you.”

“Thank you.”

I should be thanking you, dummy.

He kisses you again, and unspoken words melt away into body language. Jade makes love to you like you might break at the slightest thrust, his hips molding to yours in a lazy, loving tempo. It’s comforting and calm to feel his weight on yours, a reminder that he is your beacon amidst all of this desolation and darkness. Insatiable, you and Jade wind around each other like snakes, moaning into each other’s mouths at every opportunity. You’ve never felt more weightless, so much so you’re floating. In this underwater paradise, time is nonexistent and your turbulent thoughts are carried away on the waves.

With his ministrations, the fiery ache in your belly sparks with new life. Your glutinous walls clamp down, which draws a pleasured hiss from Jade, and you breach that special, orgasmic surface with a cry. It’s soon swallowed in another greedy kiss, and all you can do is blindly pursue his tongue, your eyes squeezed shut. The throes of pleasure overtake you even as he continues to fuck you through it, unwilling to let up for even a moment.

It’s perfect—a puzzle finally pieced together.

Jade reaches his zenith shortly after you, his hips crashing against yours in one final thrust to fill you with cum. It’s unlike human sperm, thin and watery, but there’s so much of it. You consider asking for the biology lecture, but you’re so caught up in cloud nine that it’s a chore to work your heavy tongue.

Next time I’ll ask.

Jade—cool and collected Jade—flops on top of you afterwards, completely drained. His cock twitches limply inside of you, but he’s too exhausted to slide out. Not that you’re complaining. The connection is much appreciated.

“Sex is…not very messy in the sea,” you mumble, reaching to pat his head. He hums beneath your palm. “I guess it makes sense because these bodies don’t sweat.”

“Mm.”

“And there’s water everywhere, so fluids won’t last long either.”

“Mm.”

“Huh…”

“Mm.”

You run your fingers through his hair, watching in awe as the strands waver in the water. “Are you okay, Jade?”

“Yes… Yes, I’m fine now.” He lifts his head slightly to look at you. “My apologies. I…may have gotten lost in the moment.”

“It’s fine.” You issue him a hazy smile. “So this is what Jade’s like post-nut. Cute.”

“Please,” he murmurs, giggling deliriously. “I can assure you I’m normally much cooler. More coherent, too.”

“I never said this side of you wasn’t cool.”

“No, you did not.” His hand covers yours, squeezing faintly. “Thank you, truly, for everything.”

“Jade, I—” You hesitate, gather your words, and continue: “I want to be the one to thank you for everything. You didn’t have to put up with me for this long. You still shouldn’t have to, but you do. So… So thank you. I’m happy to have you in my life.”

“I am forever fortunate to have crossed paths with you.” His fingers curl around yours and he brings your hand up to his lips. “And I will continue to feel so for the rest of my life. There’s no need to offer your gratitude. Being here with you is more than enough.”

“Ooh, so romantic. Everything you say is so…princely. Are you secretly fairy-tale royalty?”

“Would you like to meet my father and find out?”

“Ugh. Forget I said anything. You’re so two-faced.” You tear your hand out of his clasp.

Jade chuckles. “It wouldn’t be a very long swim. My mother will adore you.”

“You’re shameless. We still have to collect the rest of the stuff for Azul.”

“He’ll live.”

“I’ll be indebted to him.”

“And then I’ll get to see you more often.” Jade pets the bloody bites littering your skin with overt adoration. “What wonderful luck, no?”

“You’re seriously the worst!”

“You don’t mean that.”

He’s right; you don’t.

You’re not perturbed by the signs, or lack thereof.

Firstly, your period is notorious for being late. Secondly, you haven’t felt a sliver of sickness ever since Jack offhandedly remarked that you smelled different. When asked to explicate, he told you in that gruff voice of his: “Sweeter. Not like your perfumes. This is a natural sweetness.”

You were wearing your favorite fragrance at the time, so when you sniffed your wrist and turned up with a noseful of Date Night you figured Jack must have mistaken the two. Surely a wolf beastman can have a faulty nose. It can’t be correct all the time, right? Even now, after listening to similar remarks from friends and acquaintances alike, you’re convinced a mistake has been made.

After all, nothing’s changed.

Today, however, it’s Azul who wrinkles his nose at you when you walk past him in the lounge. The busy atmosphere requires his presence, hence why he’s joining you on the floor. He’d be a welcome appearance, if not for his bizarre reaction.

“What?”

“Nothing,” he says with another snuffle.

You narrow your eyes. “Don’t tell me I smell weird, too. That’s all I’ve been hearing lately.”

“Surely someone’s told you.” He folds his arms across his chest. “If not my distracted customers, I would hope one of your friends has clued you in by now.”

“I’m not distracting them on purpose, Azul. But, really, you ought to be happy. It’s bringing in more money. Lots of tips.” You gesture to yourself with your free hand; the other is occupied with a tray full of plates. “Aren’t I doing you a favor?”

He hums, fixing his eyes on the clustered crowd. Jade and Floyd make their rounds, as do the rest of the lounge staff. “And you’ve been feeling well? No illness or discomfort of any sort? Any unusual symptoms?”

“What does my smell have to do with any of that?”

Azul offers you a pleasant simper. “For the right price, I may be able to speculate.”

“Nice try. Like I’d fall for that.”

You pivot on your heel and head for your designated table, hips sashaying all the way. For a while you were paranoid that you smelled foul and that your perfumes couldn’t mask it, but when you asked Ace and Deuce they couldn’t pinpoint the issue either. It was then when Ace joked that your uniform seemed a size too tight, and your concerns evaporated all at once—as did Ace’s comment when you and Deuce chased him through the halls to wring an apology out of him.

Grim doesn’t agree with their assessment, but then you can never tell if he’s being serious when he grumbles about your smell or how you’re like a human furnace now. Winter is approaching; of course you’ve started to bundle up to accommodate for the chilly weather. But Grim insists this is different. Agree to disagree, you compromised and left it at that. Jade had been your last resort, who weighed in with a smile and some cryptic nonsense about ‘delightful consequences’—whatever that meant. Consulting him was a fruitless effort, as he proved to be about as much help as the rest of the school.

Azul doesn’t know what he’s talking about, you think as you serve the table of students. I’ve never felt better.

Just as you think that, though, your body chooses to ridicule you. When you step away from the table, fatigue washes over you and you stumble on unsteady legs. You brace yourself for the floor’s cruel kiss, but the impact from the collapse never comes. Strong arms wrap around you from behind, lifting you upright, and then you hear him. Your star.

“Whoa! Careful there, Shrimpy. Don’t go fallin’ on us.”

“F-Floyd!” You stare up at him from where you remain slumped in his grasp. The world spins and presents you with three Floyds. You blink them away until there’s one, and by the Great Seven is he handsome in his uniform. “Thanks for catching me…”

“Don’t mention it.” He helps you to your feet, patting you down for extra measure. “All good?”

“Yeah… Yeah, totally. Sorry. I don’t know what happened. One minute I was fine, and the next I was so exhausted I couldn’t walk straight.”

“You get enough sleep?”

“I could do better, but I had to pull an all-nighter. Maybe I’m not eating enough? But then Ace said my uniform looked tight… Do you think I’m coming down with something? But I haven’t felt sick either. Just hungry. Seriously… What’s going on with my body?”

Floyd looks through you rather than at you, his face scrunched in contemplation. He leans closer, sniffs you once, and then pinches you through your shirt. You flinch.

“H-Hey! What was that for?”

His mouth spreads in an obnoxiously smug grin—the sort that tells you he’s worked out the solution to a mystery you’ve yet to recognize. “Just testin’ something. You’re smellin’ more like Jade these days. Mama’ll be happy knowin’ he’s got himself a li’l lady friend.”

You bristle, warming under his knowing gaze. Of course Jade’s scent is fresh on your clothes. Prior to your shift, the two of you rendezvoused for a quick round of kissing and bickering over the title for your mutualistic relations. It’s not love. It’s convenience. You fool yourself with this lie because part of you is still so hung up on Floyd. Though your affections have dimmed considerably since that day in the Coral Sea, you still catch yourself fantasizing about him and the future you could share. Although, after everything that’s happened with Jade, you’re not sure where your heart lies.

Jade is not the other half to your pair, but neither is Floyd.

But Jade is always around and he likes you; Floyd does not. And sometimes you think Jade will make it official—that he’ll confess again and you’ll echo the sentiment this time because you have nothing to lose and you’re always waltzing on the border between love and lust. You await that day with hopeful horror.

Everything has changed even if it doesn’t feel like it.

“I am not his lady friend. Not like that.”

“Sure you aren’t. And I’m not a moray.”

“I’m serious!”

“Course you are. I just don’t believe ya.”

“You—” Scowling, you move to swat at him, but the noisy growl of your stomach stops you in your tracks. “Y-You didn’t hear that!”

“Guess it’s better bein’ hungry than sick. Surprised you can even keep anything down.”

“What are you talking about? That makes no sense.”

Floyd shrugs. “Nothin’. Just sayin’ it’s damn good luck is all. These sorta things make humans suuuper sick.”

“Okay… Cool. Thanks for the input?”

Floyd snatches your fedora, indicating he’s ready for a chase and that this conversation has ended. “Hee-hee. You’ll figure it out soon.”

“Wha—hey! Get back here! I wanna know right now!”

Like a brainwashed fool, you pursue because he’s still your star—the eel you’ve idolized ever since you met him. Those feelings are impossible to squash, but it doesn’t matter. Floyd isn’t bothered, and perhaps that’s for the best. His nonchalance allows the two of you to remain friends even in the wake of your confession.

Nothing has changed between you and him.

Looking on with mounting interest, Azul pulls a very proud-looking Jade aside. “You seem pleased.”

“As a peach.”

“Am I right to assume you have a contingency plan written up?”

“And for what contingency must I plan?”

Azul scoffs at his deliberate pussyfooting. “You tell me. Your intentions evade me at present.”

“Is that so? And I thought I made them perfectly clear all those months ago.”

“You did, yes, but I fail to understand how any of this benefits you if she’s still so enamored with Floyd. Do you intend to make a marriage out of this noncommittal not-romance?”

“Azul, you jest. I’m not someone who plays for second place or consolation prizes. Of course I’ll marry (Name). She won’t have a choice.”

“You’re not even romantically involved.”

“Not by human standards.”

“No, I suppose not.” Azul watches as you, oblivious and secretly enceinte, follow Floyd to the kitchen to retrieve another set of finished orders. “A child is a commitment in more ways than one.”

“As are twins.”

He doesn’t shudder at the sight of Jade’s razored smirk, but he does raise an inquiring brow. “What makes you think that?”

“Moray eel intuition.”

“Hah. I see. (Name) won’t be very thrilled.”

“Perhaps not. But we’ll be here to help, won’t we?”

The two exchange a devious glance. Azul snickers. “Oh, but of course. I am nothing if not a compassionate, benevolent soul.”

“Your generosity parallels that of the great Sea Witch,” Jade agrees, a hand held over his heart.

“It was reckless, but I must admit I’m impressed.”

“Why, thank you. I do so enjoy playing dangerous games. The risks are profoundly metamorphic, but the rewards make it worth my while.” His two-toned eyes track your figure as you flit about the lounge with Floyd. “I’ll do whatever it takes. If I must play Floyd for the day, so be it. If I must swallow her in my shadow so that no one else dares to look for her light, so be it. These are the lengths I’m willing to go to for her. She is my everything. My dearest. My moon.” Jade glances at Azul, a manic grin darkening his features. “And rather than confine myself to the role of a single star seeking her approval, I’ll become her universe. Then there will be no need to compete with other stars, for I will be the only one she’ll ever see in this starless solar system.”

“What a frightening face… You and (Name) really are a match made in madness.”

“Aren’t we just?”

#yandere twst #yandere twst x reader #yandere twisted wonderland #yandere twisted wonderland x reader #yandere jade leech #yandere jade leech x reader #yandere jade x reader #yandere jade #n/sfw #tw: pregnancy #tw: baby trapping #tw: choking

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ladyelissarose · 1 year

Note

Can you do like Hobie smut, your writing is GOOD.

Let it be a jealousy kinda thing I haven't seen much of Hobie being jealous

‘I’ll Show You Jealous’

Hobie Brown aka Spider-Punk x female spider-woman reader. (he calls her ‘webs’)

Trope; best friends to lovers

Warnings; 18+ Smut! NSFW. Jealous sex, it starts quite rough then ends soft. Hobie being Hobie- but jealous ;) slight fingering.. mostly smut y’all .

Summary: Being best friends shouldn’t have any feelings in between right? Especially jealousy when Hobie thinks your hanging around too close to a certain Spider-Man? What does it take for him to come to terms on how he ‘really’ feels?

Authors note; My favorite anon!! I’m sorry it took me a few days to get this out, but I’m glad to say it’s all yours now! I hope you like it, I’ve never written for Hobie before!! Enjoy love!!🫶🏼🌻

“You see? That’s why I think you’re one of the funniest! You’re hilarious and you get my humor!”

An effortless chuckle left your lips as your hand slipped off of Ben Riley’s back, where it had been first when you patted it.

You two had just come back from a short mission, which was as per usual… putting an anomaly where it belonged, and making sure canon took place as it should. Hobie stood in the distance watching you both communicate so freely and happily, like if you had been best friends, like you were with Hobie. I mean, that’s all you too should of been.. best friends.

But in the pit of his stomach and behind his tough and sarcastic behavior about not liking commitment, all he wanted to do was commit his life to you, and make you more than his ‘best friend’. The only thing was.. he didn’t know how to tell or show you. So painfully he witnessed you give away your laughter and touch to someone else, if not others that weren’t him. So to avoid staring at this heartbreak, he went back to his universe.

Soon you had let Ben go and looked for the one that made you smile the biggest, warm your heart, and give you a certainty of safety and care no matter what crazy shit you two did. But, he was no where to be seen. A frown made it to your lips after you had checked everywhere, you even went up to Miguel’s lair to check if Hobie wasn’t lurking around and stealing his lunch- and yet, he wasn’t there. You sat for a minute and thought that maybe he went home, but… he always waited for you to come back from a mission, so you could eat together and go on a short ‘joy swinging’ across the universes.

Hoping you’d find him at his universe, you clicked on your gizmo and went to his place, falling in love with the aesthetic of it all as you arrived, and it reminding you of every detail about Hobie too. You swung around his home- he wasn’t there. At his favorite hideout clubhouse- he wasn’t there. Even stopped by the stand where he usually took a sweet bread or two without being seen- he wasn’t in sight. Finally stopping to take a break, you thought for a few seconds before it clicked for you.

“What the hell… where could you- oh! I know.”

What concerned you though about the place where he could possibly be, was the fact that you told each other that you’d go there if something was wrong or ‘a talk’ needed to happen, meaning it was very serious.

Upon arriving to the tallest skyscraper in your universe, you let out a sigh of relief as you found him there, playing a soft tune on his guitar.

You walked slowly towards him, knowing he’d feel your presence, as his spider senses would tell him immediately. You slid off your mask as you called out,

“Hobie?-“

Hobie’s shoulders tensed as he muttered immediately,

“Jus’ leave me be… please?”

Worry but you as you heard him, his slightly broken voice,

He’s never told you to leave him alone, instead the opposite, always subtly begging you to be around his presence, whether it was him lurking around with your favorite snack, or playing your favorite songs on his guitar. Hobie was smart, he found out ways to keep you around that didn’t include him actually telling or asking you to be… and so far it has worked like magic.

It was your smile that had him loosening up, the little squeals you let out when Mayday was being extra adorable, puppy eyes at the sight of kittens or his favorite of all time, your mere presence that gave him motive to fall for you.

With you he felt free and safe, he knew he’d give up an entire universe if that meant he could be with you. But lately as you’ve been given more privileges, you’ve been a little too absent for his liking, and he didn’t appreciate how you were hanging around Miguel and Ben Riley more than him.

Trust was something you too have built quite strongly sense the start of your friendship, and he should’ve confided in that trust and believe that you haven’t ghosted him for someone else… yet here he was… sadly plucking on his guitar strings to your favorite tune- ‘Vigilante Shit’… thinking that maybe you have.. but here you are. Speaking out to him as if you were desperate for him.

“Hobie please, I can help-“

“How’d you know I’d be here?”

With a scoff you recalled your guys’ words,

“We said we’d come here for something important.. and today I couldn’t find you anywhere.. so I thought this would be the place.. and here you are. So, what’s wrong Hobie?”

He then stood up and mumbled to himself,

“It’s nothing, I shouldn’t of come.”

Your spider senses heard him clearly tho, so before he was about to walk off you genuinely said,

“Hobie.. you know I’m here for you. Regardless of what it is.”

Hobie turned to you and walked close, watching how you didn’t walk back but stayed in place as his sassed,

“Are you sure? Didn’t think you’d be after being with everyone else all the time.”

You sensed his words, and could feel the weight of jealousy in them, it only caused you to realize that he felt just as protective of you, as you did for him… but you hid your jealousy better. So you took the chance to tease him,

“Are you jealous Hobie Brown-“

Rolling his eyes and crossing his arms he pouted defensively,

“No. Absolutely not-“

You tried to tease him more as you pushed the guitar on his shoulder,

“Then what’s wrong? Looks like you are jealous-“

He sent a playful snap at you so you wouldn’t touch his treasure as he did his best to reassure,

“Tis’ nothin’ webs… I promise.”

His closed off attitude told you it was more than nothing, and you wouldn’t have it.. not his half or full lies about what’s going on. Hobie was about to walk away past you, but you grabbed his arm and insisted,

“Hobie! If you don’t do or say something about what’s going on with you I will explo- MMPH!!”

His warm hands got a hold of your face, pressing a harsh kiss to your lips. Eyes going wide open at the shock his actions caused you, but you couldn’t pull yourself away.

Not when you could see the way he had his shut with force, and the how his long lashes that you were always jealous of brush over his cheeks… you couldn’t deny how much you loved every detail about him. Your heart fluttered at the feeling of the cool of his nose ring press up against your nose, and his soft breathing hitting you, his lip ring marking a place on your lip as he gave you a bruising kiss.

You didn’t realize how long it took you admiring what you’ve always loved about him before you reciprocated the kiss, brining him closer to you by the collar of his jacket. But he slightly pushed you away, and before you could interpret something wrong, he muttered against your lips,

“you think I’m jealous webs?”

With a short chuckle you replied with sass,

“I think you’re very jealous Hobie.”

He smirked and webbed you your hands in an instant, your eyes found his with matching glares, filled with desire. He then put you to lay on the edge of the building, your head leaning off as he growled,

“I’ll show you jealous.”

With expert hands he was able to find your hidden zipper and slide down your pants along with your panties, enough to free your cunt for him to touch. Your hands as they were webbed up, hung off the edge, dangling down, stretching you a bit. Hobie pulled you close to him by gripping your thighs tightly, then he tore the web off your wrists with the pick for his guitar.

You were just about to reach for him, but he pushed you back once again, and laying his pick between your teeth as he ordered,

“Love, you keep that there safe for me.. and these hands.. hold onto the edge… don’t touch me until I tell you.. understood?”

You nodded once, taking all his commands in, wanting to meet them all, but Hobie hovered his face over yours and asked calmly,

“Words love.. do you feel ok and safe?”

You knew if you had a problem with something he’d adjust the universe to your liking, but right now you felt good and desperation. So you worded with the pick in between,

“I feel goo’.. I just wan’ you… I nee’ you.”

Pressing a hard kiss to your lips, feeling his favorite metal pick touch him, it stirred him on to take you now. His fingers found your cunt and stuck two in, going knuckle deep as your were soaking and taking him smoothly. With pride he watched your face contort in pleasure, the most beautiful moans leaving your lips because of him.

Your chest heaved for air as he pumped harder and faster, wanting you to come apart by his hands. The beauty of the city lights below you couldn’t compare to you, you were far too bright and gorgeous, so many things at once you were and yet, you were the most fit and complete person he had ever seen.

Your walls squeezed around his fingers, informing him you were near as your moans turned into cries as well. He teased you a bit as he slowed the pace, hearing you cry for ‘him’ had him groan and feeling his pants tighten more.

“H-Hobie! Ah please! Please-“

“What do you want love-“

“More! More please..”

Your eyes teared up as you cried for him, wanting to feel more of him as he had spurred on your high then took it away. He sucked on his fingers, letting out a moan,

“Sweet as always love.. never doubted you..”

Hobie then kissed your face, letting you taste yourself on him as he took the pick from your lips and he unbuckled his pants, sliding them down as he worded to you,

“C’mere love.”

Latching onto him as your arms wrapped around him, he pulled you up into his lap, sitting where you were at the edge, while looking up to you as your face was almost right at his. You both were breathing hard as you ran your hands through his hair and rested the other on his neck, Hobie’s hands exploring your back and thighs while kissing your neck. It was an all new sensation you both felt, not wanting to end it and growing addicted by the second. Hobie’s cock rested between your thighs, hitting his stomach and leaking precum, it had you reaching for it and playing with the red tip. He pulled you in for a kiss as you began to take him into your hands. His hips bucked up as your hands slid up and down his large length, spreading his cum and rubbing the tip with your thumb. He was getting to his high not so slowly, your hands bringing him on faster than he thought, so he abruptly stopped you with a pleading voice,

“Please love, need to feel you.. ready?”

You were already lifting your hips over his tip as you responded,

“I’m so ready.”

It wasn’t long before you slid down on him, your soaked walls taking him in right away. Once he bottomed out you both knew deep down, that you wouldn’t last long.

He was so deep, his tip touching your cervix, Hobie picked you up as he gripped your thighs tightly, then he slid you back down, groaning into your lips at the pleasure he instantly felt. Hobie didn’t care and wasn’t afraid of the position he was in, as he sat at the edge of the skyscraper, with you in his lap taking all of him. He confided in his strength to withhold you, and make you feel good more than anything. You than began to bounce on his cock, letting out whimper’s and mewls when you slid back down, feeling the stretch overtake you. Hobie helped you speed up as he took control and moved his hips to meet you at every thrust. Warmth began to seep into your core again, but burning more this time. You pulled Hobie closer to you as you begged,

“I need you more- please!”

“I know my love.. me too.”

Hobie needed the same, and fully take control, so he changed positions and laid you on your back, wrapping your legs around his waist. You held onto his hands as they were above your head, and took a deep breath as you prepared for what came. With locked gazes, Hobie pulled back and thrusted into you right away, loving how you responded to him so well by clenching around him and moaning his name. Little by little he picked up his speed, knowing you both needed your much needed release, warmth engulfing you both as well as a passion for more.

Hobie railed into you now as he asked in between pants,

“Who do you belong to love?”

Breathing out a moan when he hit a particular spot, you cried out,

“Y-You! You Hobie!!”

Letting go of your hand to hold your hips down with extra force, Hobie punctuated each word with a harsh thrust,

“You. Sure. Love?”

Hitting your cervix every time had your toes curling and backs arching to him while you whimpered,

“Yes!! I’m yours Hobie Brown!!”

You could feel him throb inside of your walls, as you clenched around him, nearing your release. Hobie could feel the release nearing too, your warm walls taking him in and milking his precum into you. Now all he desired in that moment was for you to let go for him, and only him. Increasing his speed and piercing his grip into you, Hobie demanded with a sweet but firm tone,

“Beg for me love.. t-tell me who it is that is making you co-come.”

Doing his best to hold on a bit longer, Hobie awaited your answer, pleading from his heart that it’d be soon as he wished to claim you already and paint your walls with him. You clawed his back and pulled him closer, kissing his earlobe you then panted and moaned into his ear,

“Only you can Hobie.. please- ahh! Make me come- please please Hobie!”

His jealousy for you along with a new unlocked sensation… possessiveness, had him wanting to here you beg more.

“Beg me to make you come-“

He then lowered his hand to your clit, and began to rub tight circles around your bud, urging you to cry out in a desperate tone, tears evident that you were desperate.

“-AHH!! Oh Hobie! Please- please baby make me cum! Only y-you can!! So p-please!!”

Letting out a deep breath Hobie moaned into your hair,

“Come my love, come wi’ me.”

Feeling him pulsate along with his sharp thrusts, had you coming undone under his arms, coating his cock with your juices. Hobie brought you in for a deep kiss when he came, swallowing yours and his moans as he then slowly rode out both of your highs, wanting it to last a little longer. He was the opposite from how he started, which was rough… but now he gave gentle strokes, only pulling away when you told him it was too sensitive now. You were both out of breath and pulling away at once to catch some air, your chests touching from how close you were but also how much air you were taking in. Hobie gave your forehead a short but meaningful kiss before pulling away, but instead you pulled him in for a hug, hiding your face in his neck as you reassured him,

“I’ll only and always be yours Hobie Brown.. I promise.”

Hobie squeezed you tight and was grateful for your embrace, and he ran his fingers through your hair, as he returned the promise,

“I’ll be yours too love.. forever.”

Your eyes twinkled, as he confessed,

“I’m sorry I never made it clear webs.. but I do love you… very much so.”

With a soft peck you replied,

“I love you too… I always have Hobie.”

In a silence you too held each other, satisfied with your actions, more in love and thriving for more days like this to come.

Maybe this love making session was unexpected and out of the blue for the both of you, but it felt so right, and so good. A little breeze of wind then brushed by, causing you to shiver a bit in Hobie’s arms, a second didn’t go by when he suggested,

“Let’s get us home yeah? Don’ want ya to get cold lovie…”

Carefully he helped you put back on your suit, being extra touchy but extremely gentle as he zipped you up (but he didn’t do this before taking a look at your- his cunt now dripping from his cum.

Soon you too helped Hobie with his pants, and getting his guitar safely back into his hold. Both slipping on your masks, you were ready to swing home, but your legs were a little to wobbly for your liking. Hobie caught the slight stumble before holding you up and telling you,

“I’ll carry you home.. on my back lovie.”

With you tightly secured around him, he took off and swung towards home, going through the city so you could have the last look of the city night lights… as he knew it was one of your favorite parts of being Spider-Woman. Efficiently he swung by a stand full of flowers, plucking one off and easily giving it to you, a smile made it to your face as the rose was given to you with a brush of his hands touching yours. You blushed hard like if it was the first time he touched you, and hadn’t just made love to you on the tallest building of your city.

You never felt fear as you embraced him with the rose in your hand tightly. You trusted Hobie’s skills as you had seen them be incredibly strong and capable of much, while swinging he’d collect something he’d like and hand it to you.. so far you have 3 different flowers and a lollipop. Hobie had sticky fingers.. but you didn’t mind it, he wasn’t selfish with his findings.

It didn’t take long when you finally arrived at your balcony, he made sure your feet were flat on the ground before letting you go. Walking into your dark home didn’t feel lonely and filled with void like before, now you held Hobie’s hand tight as you led him to your room, wordlessly telling him you really wanted him to stay the night, if not forever. You both jumped into the shower wanting it to be quick, your night having been long and you both were craving to lay down in one another’s arms. Hobie’s hands never left your body as he helped you scrub down, he never looked at you like you’re a piece of meat.. but as if you were such a treasure to behold. It didn’t matter about your battle scars or the shape of you, he was now addicted and more in love. You treated Hobie the same way, wanting to show him that you indeed wanted him and him only, asking him questions about how he does his hair and wanting to memorize his steps to keep his styled hair in tact (as you loved how his hair looked) Drying off in fluffy towels, and sharing the air-blow dryer, you too were soon ready for bed. Hobie lifted you up from the thighs and carried you in, laying you down gently and pecking your lips all so romantically, before plopping himself on top of you. A breathy groan left your lips as he cuddled into your stomach, acting innocent and slightly ignoring how he had dropped onto you. He made sure he was in a good spot, not wanting his hair to be in your face, but close enough where you can rub his head. Soft kisses were given on your tummy as he worded again and again, softly yet possessively,

“You’re mine.. all mine. This body, your heart… you. Right baby?”

You could never say no.

“Yes baby.. all yours.. all of me.”

He smiled to himself as he lastly cooed,

“I love you..”

His chest warmed up as he heard your reply,

“I love you more..”

#hobie brown #astv hobie #hobie x you #hobie x reader #atsv x reader #atsv smut #hobie brown smut #spider punk #spider punk x reader #hobie spiderverse #hobie smut #spiderman across the spiderverse #spider punk x you #spider punk smut #asks open #asks answered happily

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i-thirsty-boi · 1 year

Text

Platonic Yandere Metkayina Family X Human Child Reader Part 3

~Hey! I know this took me a while to do, but now that a new semester is started I actually have motivation to write consistently. So, I should be posting a bit more frequently now! Anyway, on a side note, I'm not sure if it was obvious, but Ronal isn't pregnant in this story. Mostly because I think it would be too challenging to write an infant into this storyline.

Masterlist

Part 1 , Part 2 , Part 3

CW: yandere behavior (platonic), protective behavior, near drowning, fall risk

-It had taken you about two more days to feel almost completely better. But your family was still babying you… a lot.

-And you were getting VERY frustrated with it.

-Sure, you liked all of the attention. However, you wanted to move around on your own now that you were feeling better, not be in a wrap!

It was just after breakfast, and your mom was trying to put you in the wrap to take you with her. And you were not having it. You were groaning and sinking to the floor to delay going into the wrap.

Ronal was kneeling on the ground in front of you, trying to get you into the wrap so she could take you with her, and was bewildered by how you were acting. She had never seen you act like this, granted she hadn’t known you very long either. But that wasn’t the point! The point was she didn’t know why you were so upset about the wrap, when you’ve never complained about it before.

-She tried one more time to pick you up and put you in the wrap. And you just dropped straight onto the floor and started crying. Loudly.

-Ronal just frowned and sat down fully in front of you, picking you up into her arms and rubbing your back to try to calm you down.

-You had thrown your head back already by the time she asked you what was wrong.

-You just gasped before spitting out that you didn’t wanna be in the wrap anymore since you felt better.

-As soon as Ronal heard this, the meltdown made sense. She untied the wrap from herself before fully picking you up to take you with her. Luckily, you were calming down by then and wrapped your arms around her neck.

-She turned to look at the rest of her family, who she had forgotten were there to witness that, and gave them a reassuring look before making her way to her healing tent. In the end, she wasn’t surprised that a small child would want to move around a lot more after recovering from an illness.

As she was walking, she looked down at you to see you fast asleep, and she just kissed your head while continuing on her way. She also felt your feet swinging against her sides, making her smile, but only a little bit.

It didn’t take her long to make it there, and set you down on what might as well be your personal cushion at that point. And she set down her human medicine bag and got out the thermometer, putting it in your mouth without disturbing you. And when she took it out, she was pleased and relieved to see it say 98, the correct temperature for you. She smiled and calmly sat by you and mixed together more balms and salves.

At one point a new mother of the clan came in to talk, and asked to set her baby on the cushion next to you, which Ronal allowed. And it was adorable to see an infant that was about half your size next to you. The woman commented on you not looking so bad anymore, and that she had heard you were sick and was glad you looked like you felt better.

-Ronal smiled and said that you definitely felt better, if the fit you threw to escape the wrap this morning had anything to say about it. She laughed with the other woman, who said her baby had done the same thing this morning as well.

-Although it wasn’t long until the infant woke up and started crying, waking you up as well. You were confused, but quickly woke up, and picked them up with you as you sat up. You rocked the both of you until the baby had calmed down.

-You looked to the side once they stopped crying to see your mother and another woman looking at you and the baby. They each had a very soft look on their face, which you figured was because of you calming down the baby.

-You looked back down at the baby again to see them staring up at you, then they reached up and put their hand on your face. You smiled at them before their mother took them from you and into her arms. Your mother doing the same with you.

-You looked up at her to see her smiling down at you, and you smiled back. Then, she got a weird, far off, look on her face. You just scrunched your nose at her and looked over as the mother and her baby were leaving.

-She was only loosely cradling you in her lap, so you rolled onto the ground in front of your mother and made your way over to grab your craft basket. Then you went and sat on your favorite cushion, which was next to where your mother did her healing duties daily.

Ronal had finally seemed to come out of her daze as you started weaving some shells into an anklet for yourself. She made her way over to her station and gathered the things she needed to make more of most of her healing pastes and salves, then sat down right next to your cushion. And the both of you worked on your separate activities for the better part of two hours.

By the time she looked at what you were doing, you were finishing up a second anklet for yourself. And once you truly finished it, you looked over at Ronal and asked her if she could put both of them on you. She, of course, said yes. Then gently grabbed your legs and tied each anklet securely, but not too tight, around each of your ankles. Once she was done, you got up and walked around in the hut, smiling at the shells clinking together as you walked.

-Ronal was watching you enjoy yourself with a small smile on her face, happy that you can create accessories that you enjoy.

-Though her thoughts were interrupted by Neytiri walking through the entrance of the hut. Ready to get more lessons of the metkayina way of life from Ronal.

-Neytiri had seen you, now, skipping around the hut. In your own little world. And she just lightly scowled at you. She knew you were a sweet little kid, but her opinion of humans in general dampened her reactions to you.

-She just quietly made her way over to Ronal and sat down to help her finish making the pastes and salves. Keeping a distrustful eye on you the entire time.

-The novelty eventually wore off for you and you went back over to your mother and plopped down in her lap. Looking over at the darker woman with curious eyes. Though you quickly looked away from the, almost, nasty look she gave you.

-You just settled against your mother and looked around the hut, and before you knew it, you were being carried out of the hut and slightly into the water before being set down.

-You knew she was going to be teaching the forest woman their way of life, and that included the breathing techniques they had already taught you.

You were gently set into the water next to your mother and started slowly swimming around the two women. Both women keeping watch over you. Your mother to make sure you were safe, and Neytiri because she didn’t trust you. And you were ignoring it to actually swim around like you wanted to.

Ronal had been teaching the breathing technique to Neytiri for a couple days at that point, and she had done well and just needed to push herself to stay under for longer. So, as soon as you dove under the surface of the water, Ronal had done the same with Neytiri.

She had been guiding her through the reefs under the water while also making sure she could still see you. They had been swimming and communicating in simple sign for about five minutes before she saw you swimming towards the surface to get some air. She made sure you made it there without issue and started diving back down again before she moved her attention back to the forest woman. Though instead of you going off on your own among the reef, you swam to her and wrapped your arms around her neck. She just turned and kissed your cheek before continuing to guide Neytiri around the reefs.

She just continued swimming while gently dragging you with her while trying to teach Neytiri. Though as soon as they had made it to a spot with a large amount of glowing coral, your favorite area to swim around in, you had let go of her and swam to gently touch the coral. Which glowed brighter at your touch, which is why it was your favorite.

-You had been entertaining yourself with the coral while your mother and the woman from the forest continued swimming around you.

-Though when you turned your back towards the coral to sign to your mother that you were going to swim to the surface, Neytiri was right in front of you swimming to the surface as well and accidentally pushed you into the coral behind you by your chest.

-You had the breath knocked out of you, and that made you inhale some water. Your chest hurt and you started panicking.

-You looked around for your mother and desperately gestured her to bring you to the surface. She noticed your panic right away and quickly grabbed you and rushed to the surface. Though you were just focusing on not giving in to the urge to cough.

-As soon as your head was above the water you began violently coughing up water. You had your head hanging over your mother’s shoulder as you coughed, your chest rattling from the force of them.

-You were clinging to your mother’s shoulders, and she was gently patting your back to help you get all the water out of your lungs. It had taken you about seven full minutes of coughing and gasping for breath before you winded down and slumped against your mom.

-You two had bolted to the surface, and a couple minutes into your coughing fit, Neytiri had surfaced. And her attention was immediately captured by your distress. Her ears perked and her pupils dilated. She may not like humans, but she was concerned for you. Especially as a mother herself.

-Though as soon as you completely stopped coughing, Ronal turned to Neytiri and let loose some scathing words for her about accidentally shoving you under the water. Though she did notice the darker woman’s ears droop down while being scolded.

-Once she was done talking and had calmed down, Neytiri came a bit closer to apologize and check if you were okay. You just glanced at her and nodded before drifting off to sleep in your mother’s arms.

-And after that, their session of lessons ended for that day. Both of the women made their way to the shore and went their separate ways for the day.

-Neytiri was sulking while making her way back to their marui, and Ronal was power walking to her own marui.

Once she got to her marui, she walked in and briefly set you in their sleeping space before tying the wrap on her and put you in it on her front, facing her. She began rubbing your back while walking around her home and gathering things to make a snack for you to eat once you woke up. Though as she was finishing putting the snack together for you, her older child Tsireya had walked into the marui.

She seemed to be confused about what her mother was doing in their marui at this time of day, and came closer to see her making some food with you actually in the wrap. She came up to her mother and put her hand on your back, concerned because of some rumbling happening in your chest as you breathed. She looked up at her mother’s face and got a look that said she’d get an explanation later.

Though it didn’t take you very long to wake up again, and immediately start coughing again. You didn’t even register the two women in your family fussing over you while you were in your small coughing fit. You were more focused on the small dribbles of water coming out of your mouth after being forced from your lungs. You stopped after only about two minutes, and pushed your cheek against the side of your mothers arm, verging on her shoulder. So, that must mean you were put in the wrap while you slept. You could only stare at the water, combined with spit, running down your mother’s arm. You then mumbled a ‘sorry’ as you laid against your mom's body.

-Ronal just shook her head and started rubbing your back again. Before taking the snack and walking over to sit down and start feeding you the food.

-She looked down at the water dripping down her arm, concerned about how much water is still in your lungs considering how much you coughed up so far.

-Meanwhile, Tsireya only had an idea of what had happened to you, but was very concerned nonetheless. Still lightly patting your back.

Both of them had sat down on the floor and took turns feeding you small bites of the cut up fruit Ronal got for you. You chewed them slowly, until they were all gone. And by the end you felt a lot better. You had started squirming a bit to get taken out of the wrap, which you were glad your mother didn’t hesitate to do that time. Though you still chose to sit in her lap and continue cuddling up to her.

Meanwhile Neytiri had made it to her family’s marui and had curled up on the ground and started sulkingly weaving a new top for her oldest daughter. And while she was doing that her mate had come in and sat down next to her after noticing her sullen mood. He waited a few moments waiting for her to talk, but sighed and asked what was wrong. Neytiri just heavily sighed and buried her head in her knees before saying that she had accidentally hurt the little human child earlier that day. Jake’s ears folded down a little bit and he asked how she had done that. So, she told him about the diving she had done that day, and how she had accidentally shoved the child into a wall of coral under the water. And how hard you had been coughing up water, and how Ronal had chewed her out for it.

Jake just winced as he saw his wife’s tail curl even more into her body and her ears curl down harshly. He just put a hand on her shoulder and assures her that as long as it was an accident and she apologizes to you, she shouldn’t worry too much about this situation.

She glances up at Jake while still resting her face on her knees to see if he was joking or not, and found the look in his eyes to be sincere. She sighed again and leaned against his chest as she said she would apologize again before dinner that evening. Jake smiled and kissed her head before saying that that was a great idea and would probably mean a lot to you.

-Meanwhile, you were getting coddled for the rest of the day, especially after your mom told your sister what had happened during the dive that day.

-And then they roped your dad and brother into it too.

-So now you were being babied like you were sick again. And it annoyed you so much.

-During the lunch your family had, you were sat on your brother’s lap and your sister insisted on feeding you your food. You had huffed and tried to grab your plate from her but quickly gave up.

-And after that your dad had picked you up and carried you with him while he went to teach Jake Sully. Who you waved at once you saw him. And he waved right back at you.

-You guys would just be wading in the shallow waters while Jake was learning more of the sign language from your dad. You weren’t really paying attention as you swam around both of their legs, deciding to cling to one of Jake’s legs after circling him a couple times.

-He just chuckled and lifted you above his head from under your armpits, and briefly threw you in the air above him, easily catching you as well.

-You gasped when he threw you, but quickly broke down in giggles when he caught you. You had never had someone do that to you, but you loved it. You immediately asked him to do it again, and maybe higher.

-He just kept smiling and prepared to throw you into the air again. But prepared to throw you higher by lowering you to his chest level in front of him before launching you up in the air. You laughed the whole way up, which was pretty high because of how light you were to him, and starfished out in the air while you were falling. Easily being caught again.

-But this time he brought you to his chest to hold you properly. He leaned closer to you and brought a hand up to whisper that Neytiri felt bad and was gonna apologize to you again later in the day. And you just smiled at him and copied his hand motion to whisper back that you already forgave her, because it was obviously an accident.

-He smiled at you again before noticing the mildly panicked and angry look on Tonowari’s face. He turned you around to face him and motioned like he was going to throw you.

-Tonowari rapidly got the hint and put his arms out in front of him to catch you. And this time Jake threw you in a big arc to your dad. You were laughing and clinging to his arms when he caught you. And he just had a relieved smile while turning to Jake and asking how he knew you would like that.

-Jake laughed and said most human children loved it. And that all of his children had loved it when they were small enough for it.

-Tonowari was curious and looked down at you sitting in the crook of one of his arms, and you were still smiling. But once you noticed that he was looking at you, you excitedly asked if he could throw you just as high. Maybe even higher.

-He nervously smiled before saying that he probably could, and gently brought you in front of him. Though he looked over at Jake and motioned him over to his side with his head. And he wanted to ask him how to do what he did.

-Jake said he could do some tiny tosses to get used to the motions before doing bigger throws. He then looked at you and said, “You wouldn’t mind that, right Y/N?” To which you vigorously nodded.

Tonowari sighed before lifting you up above his head and lightly tossing you up in the air a couple times to get the hang of it. He got more confident each time because of your delighted giggles. You caught your breath as he lowered you to be in front of him so he could throw you higher. And he did that a couple times as well, you being launched at least 10 feet up each time.

And it wasn’t long before he was very comfortable with the activity and prepared to throw you up as high as he felt comfortable with. You were being dangled at his thigh level before being absolutely launched into the air. You probably went almost 60 feet up since your dad put a lot of strength into it. You just heavily breathed with a huge smile and wide eyes while stalling in the air at the peak height.

Unfortunately, this is when your mother showed up at the shore beside the men. And she let out a panicked shriek when she saw you up so high in the air. Though she was left to stand there watching in horror as you started plummeting, in her point of view, towards the two men just standing there. She started rushing to be in range to catch you as she heard you laughing while falling, though she didn’t register it. She was a step away when you landed safely in her mate’s arms, though she collided with his side as you devolved into hysterical giggles. She also ended up knocking the four of you over into the water, though she had snatched you out of your dad’s arms and held you up above the water so you couldn’t accidentally inhale it again.

As soon as she sat up in the water she was checking you over for any injuries. Though you just continued laughing and hugged her neck as you told her about your new favorite activity. She barely noticed the two men sputtering as they also sat up in the water and looked over at the woman who was clutching you for dear life.

-She turned to the two of them and asked them why they had thought that was a good idea.

-Tonowari quickly defended himself by saying he wouldn’t have done it if he didn’t think he could catch you. And he pointed out that you loved it. Though he said that if he threw you that high in the future, and he will, that he would do it in an area with deep water that would break your fall and prevent you from getting hurt.

-She just blew air out of her nose before turning a sharp look to Jake.

-He put his hands up in front of him and said that he knew most human children loved that, and that his children had loved that as well. Plus, he taught Tonowari how to do it properly to make sure you were safe.

-She ended up shaking her head before saying that if you ever got hurt from them doing that, she would beat them.

-Both men winced and said they would with drooped ears and tucked tails. She was very intimidating, even with you perched at her ribcage.

-And with that, she said that it was time to prepare dinner, so they needed to come out of the water anyway. She had originally come to get them.

-They just watched her walk away with you before making eye contact and wincing again. And they just started silently walking to the shore.

-Though Ronal didn’t have a chance to calm down before Neytiri came up to her and asked to speak with you. She was about to hiss at the woman before you said okay and wiggled to be let down. Ronal just scowled before gently setting you down.

-You walked to be in front of the woman, and she kneeled down to be somewhat close to your height.

-She then briefly looked at Ronal before looking you in your eyes and very sincerely apologizing to you. Saying how it was an accident and she would never, ever want to hurt you. Plus, she was sorry for being distrustful of you, she was just wary of all humans at first.

-You blinked up at her before slowly hugging her around her neck. You then told her that you forgive her and that it was fine that she didn’t trust you at first, because you knew most humans on this planet were terrible.

-She was shocked that you hugged her, but she slowly wrapped her arms around you as well. And said thank you once you were done speaking.

-She gave you a last squeeze when she saw the impatient look the other woman was giving her. And watched you skip back over to Ronal and make grabby hands to be picked up.

-This time she parted ways with you two with a small smile. Making her way to her own children.

-You were resting your head on your mom’s shoulder while she was making her way to where her older children were waiting for her and her husband.

-Though she had to tell them that he would be a bit behind them as they were doing something reckless with you.

-Both of them were concerned hearing that and asked what their dad was doing with you that was so dangerous.

-Ronal just sighed and set you down before walking closer to her older children and telling them what she had seen. You, very high up in the air after being thrown by Tonowari. Ao’nung and Tsireya just gasped and made eye contact with each other.

-Though their attention was grabbed by their dad joining them, and you running up to him and asking to be tossed.

Tonowari saw the looks the rest of his family was giving him, but chose to ignore them. He lifted you up and held you up above him and tossed you a little bit up in the air a couple times in a row, almost bouncing you in the air. And you were just giggling before asking him to toss you higher. And he smiled before lowering you a little bit to give you some more air time, securely catching you each time. Though he set you down once he caught the sharp look his wife was giving him.

Though his other children were looking at the activity almost in wonder. They would never say it out loud, but it looked fun. They were almost jealous, but seeing you having fun was enough for them. Their attention was, once again, captured by the Sully family coming up and joining them. The other kids sat down around you and your siblings, who also just noticed that you sat down in front of them. And the adults went to help finish the dinner and bring it back to their children.

Though you took the opportunity to go up to Neteyam and reach up and ask if he can toss you. Neteyam just looked down at you before making eye contact with your siblings. They just shrugged, but you got frustrated and started slapping at his legs. He smiled and rolled his eyes before putting his hands under your arms and lightly throwing you as he stood up. You laughed as he easily caught you. But you grabbed his arms to ask how he knew how to do it right.

-Neteyam blinked down at you, before saying that his dad taught him when Tuk was born because he was trusted.

-Though your brother got pretty jealous and went over to tell him to teach him how to throw you.

-You got snatched into the arms of your brother and held out in front of him while he demanded Neteyam teach him how to do the throwing you thing properly.

-Though Ao’nung scowled when he was only told to throw you straight up, not in any other direction, and to practice the motion of catching you.

-So, he held you up how he had seen the other boy and his dad doing, and lightly tossed you into the air. Though he was thankful that you made it so easy to catch you each time, along with your joyful laughs.

-And he made the mistake of getting distracted when he had started tossing you up higher. He had seen the other forest boy, Lo’ak, sit down next to his sister Tsireya and briefly turned his head to scowl at him.

-Though in the time that his head was turned, you had started falling and were going down past his shoulders by the time he was paying attention again. Though as soon as he was catching you in a panic, you had almost hit the ground. And he had just managed to get a hold of you before your head hit the sand, and quickly brought you up to his chest to wait to see how you would react.

-But he breathed a sigh of relief that you didn’t start crying. You were just wide eyed, clutching him, and catching your breath. Though he insisted that no one told the adults, and got nods from everyone in return.

-And everyone breathed a sigh of relief once they were all situated somewhere and the adults came back with food for everyone.

-And you stayed on your brother’s lap as you were handed food, and were happily eating it on your own, with someone looking at you to check on you every once in a while.

-Though as you all were going to sleep that night, snuggled together, none of you could think that things would change how they did soon after that.

(To be continued)

Tags: @eywas-heir , @ratchetprime211 , @konniebon , @thehoneymushroomhealer , @tulipatheticee , @msluccapotato ,

#platonic yandere #awotw x child reader #awotw x reader #child reader #yandere #aonung #tonowari #ronal #tsireya

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queenshelby · 1 year

Text

Auctioned (P. 3)

Pairing: Dark!Thomas Shelby x Virgin!Reader/OC

Warning: Darkish Themes, Prostitution, Smut, Eventual Loss of Virginity, Dubious Consent, Corruption, Destructive Behavior, Massive Age Gap

Notes: Damn, I had this in my drafts for a while but could not publish it as I was a little afraid about how it would be perceived. Also this is the first time I used an OC, so be gentle with me.

You settled into your new life at Arrow House, a grand estate where elegance and opulence intertwined with darkness and danger. As a shy and inexperienced woman, you had much to learn about the ways of pleasing Thomas Shelby, the dominant gangster who ruled over this unforgiving world.

The days passed slowly as you acclimated to your surroundings. You found solace in the stables, where the horses seemed unbothered by the treacheries that lurked beyond the estate's walls. Their gentle presence offered a temporary respite from the weight of your newfound responsibilities.

Inside the library, you delved into books, seeking knowledge and distraction. It became your sanctuary, a place of refuge where the stories transported you to distant lands, far from the clutches of Thomas Shelby's demanding presence.

The library was adorned with antique furniture, its rich scent of leather bindings and aged parchment elevating the ambience.

You felt safe there, hidden amidst the countless tomes that were silent witnesses to the sins committed within these walls. But even here, you couldn't escape the shadow of Thomas Shelby. His presence loomed over everything, a constant reminder of your precarious position.

Alison often visited you in the library, offering her wisdom about navigating your role as Thomas' "possession". Her guidance was invaluable, yet it never seemed enough to fully ease your fears.

The more time you spent with Thomas, the clearer it became that he was a man of many contradictions – tender one moment, cruel the next.

***

One evening, after a lavish dinner party, you were summoned to his office. Nervously, you followed Alison down the corridor, trying to hide your trembling hands behind your back. She glanced back at you with a reassuring smile, reminding you to breathe and find your centre.

Thomas waited patiently inside his office, seated upon his large, comfortable leather chair. He leaned back, studying you with an unreadable gaze. The room was dimly lit, adding to the air of mystery surrounding him.

"Y/N," he began, his voice a deep rumble that vibrated through your core. "Tonight, I require your services as Alison has not been feeling too well." His eyes flickered to Alison, who stood quietly beside you, nodding, and you took a deep breath, feeling your nerves calm slightly as you tried to focus on the task ahead.

Thomas continued, "You have proven yourself capable before, so I know you can handle this." Your confidence wavered slightly as you considered the pressure he placed upon you. But you knew it was necessary to prove yourself to him once again.

As such, and without words, you approached him, kneeling on the floor in front of his imposing presence. He allowed you to take control, giving you an opportunity to showcase your talents while still hurrying you along since he had business to attend to.

"You have fifteen minutes, Love. I suggest you get to it, eh?" Tommy pointed out while he opened his belt and then his zipper.

Your heart raced faster than usual; your hands trembled as you reached out to touch him. Time seemed to slow down, the only sounds in the room being your heavy breaths and the rustling of his clothes as his erection was revealed to you once again.

His powerful thighs his commanding presence, all enveloped you, making you feel like you were floating outside of your body, a mere observer of the events unfolding.

With shaking hands, you reached forward, letting your fingers brush against his skin, feeling the heat radiating from him. You could sense his impatience growing as you wrapped your hand around his hard, throbbing length.

He wanted satisfaction quickly and efficiently. You focused intently on your task, desperate to prove yourself worthy to him.

"Come on, Love, use your mouth," his eyes remained cold and distant, making you question if your efforts were truly appreciated.

"Yes, Mr Shelby," you confirmed before taking his length into your mouth with a mixture of nervous excitement and determination. Your tongue swirled around the head, tracing patterns designed to bring him pleasure. You listened carefully to the sound of his breathing, monitoring the rhythm to match your movements.

"That's it, Love. Keep going," he eventually groaned as hips shifted restlessly, and you maintained your focus, determined to prove yourself worthy of his attention.

With each passing minute, your resolve grew stronger, driven by the desire to win his approval.

Your mouth moved fluidly up and down his length, creating an erotic dance that matched the tempo of his breathing. His moans and gasps intensified, feeding your confidence as you perfected your technique.

Time seemed to warp around you, as if every second was a lifetime spent entirely under his gaze. Your lips wrapped tightly around him, sucking firmly, creating waves of pleasure coursing through his body. With each movement, you felt your power grow, and your connection to him deepened.

"Good girl, keep your tongue firm against my cock", he groaned, his grip on the armrest tightening, his eyes burning with intensity.

Your hands worked together, caressing his thighs, teasing his balls gently. You could feel his arousal building, his breath coming in ragged gasps.

"Yes, just like that…" he muttered, his voice thick with desire.

Every word, every touch, served to fuel your determination.

As the minutes ticked away, the intensity of your focus heightened.

You could hear the echo of your laboured breaths, the creak of the leather chair, and the subtle click of the clock. Each sensation brought you closer to achieving the level of mastery you sought.

The warmth emanating from Thomas radiated onto your face, filling your nose with the distinct scent of masculinity. His fingers clenched and unclenched, mirroring the turbulent storm of his thoughts and emotions.

Alison watched from a distance, silently observing both of you, her expression a mix of admiration and concern.

"Almost there, Love. Fuck," he cursed, his hand reaching back to play with your hair. "Don't stop now," he commanded, a possessive tone in his voice. His gaze held yours, daring you to defy him, but you knew better than to test his patience.

You kept working diligently, maintaining eye contact with him, allowing him to see the depth of your commitment. Your lips continued to slide up and down his length, creating a rhythmic pattern designed to please him.

"I expect you to swallow every drop, Love," he went on to say before; with a loud roar, he came, shooting hot liquid into your mouth.

Your reflexes kicked in instinctively, taking his seed into your mouth, savouring the taste as he let out a long, satisfying sigh. His breathing gradually slowed down, and he released you from his grasp.

You gently touched his thigh, looking up at him with a mixture of humility and pride, unsure of how he would react. He looked down at you, a slight grin playing at the corners of his mouth.

"Not bad, Love. Not bad at all." His praise sent a surge of relief through you, washing away any lingering doubts about your abilities.

"Thank you, sir," you confirmed before licking the remnants of seed from your lips.

You felt a strange mix of apprehension and accomplishment, proud of your ability to provide him with pleasure yet concerned about what the future might hold.

***

Over the next two days, you spent more time at the stables, and even Thomas joined you on one occasion, taking an interest in your passion for horses.

As he watched you tend to the animals, you found yourself sharing anecdotes about your life before Thomas Shelby. His attention focused solely on you as you shared stories about your family and childhood dreams. Despite the awkwardness of sharing such personal experiences, it strengthened your bond with him.

He listened intently, asking questions about your past, genuinely interested in understanding who you were beyond the physical aspects of your relationship. It was during those moments that you realised Thomas possessed a complexity rarely seen in others.

As you tended to the horses, he observed you with a keen eye, almost as if he was searching for something deeper. He inquired about your love for horses and how it had begun. Your heart fluttered at the genuine curiosity in his eyes, and you shared your tale with fervour. You spoke of your first horse, a gentle mare named Whisper, who taught you the art of connection and trust. It was evident in his expressions that your words resonated with him, striking a chord that few other subjects ever did.

As you shared your stories, Thomas became increasingly invested in learning more about you. He asked probing questions, seeking to understand the motivations behind your actions and choices.

You couldn't help but be amazed by his genuine curiosity and openness. In the midst of it all, you found yourself drawn to him in ways you never imagined possible. The warmth in his eyes whenever he looked at you was intoxicating, leaving you yearning for more.

Yet, you remained cautious not to let your feelings for him run wild. You cherished these rare moments of solitude where he appeared vulnerable and engaged.

As the days passed, you continued to learn more about him, too. He revealed parts of himself that surprised you, and you discovered a gentler side hidden beneath his hard exterior. However, you couldn't help but notice the darkness that occasionally clouded his eyes, hinting at a past filled with pain and betrayal.

It left you wondering how someone so wounded could find joy in a world that seemingly brought him nothing but suffering. As you delved deeper into his history, you uncovered the reason behind his controlling nature. It was a need to protect himself, and he seemingly enjoyed the thrill of being the one in charge.

Taking charge was exactly what he did that same night again when you were called into his chambers, and it was Alison who gave you a pep talk before your impending encounter.

"Tomorrow night, Mr Shelby wants to claim what he acquired during the auction," Alison told you softly.

"You will be spending time with him alone. This is what he wants," she added, her voice steady and confident.

You nodded in understanding, knowing full well that giving in to his desires would keep you safe and secure within his domain.

She placed a comforting hand on your shoulder, telling you not to worry about it too much.

"You will do well; I have no doubt about it. Despite this, Mr. Shelby seems to have a soft spot for your innocent nature. I think it intrigues and arouses him all at the same time," Alison explained, watching you carefully.

"But don't fret; it's just another aspect of his personality. He enjoys pushing boundaries and testing limits." She smiled reassuringly, offering advice to calm your nerves.

"Which brings us to tonight, where he wants to see us both to ensure that, come tomorrow, you are ready to lose your virginity to him," Alison exclaimed, and thus, as the night fell, Alison led you through the labyrinthine hallways of Arrow House, guiding you towards Thomas Shelby's private quarters. The anticipation and nerves danced in your chest, each step amplifying the thump of your heartbeat.

Finally, you stood before the imposing door, your palms slightly damp as Alison knocked, her knuckles rapping against the solid wood. The sound reverberated through the silence, announcing your arrival. You had not been in his bedroom before and were surprised that tonight, this was where he wanted you both to come.

The door creaked open, revealing Thomas Shelby, his eyes sharp and piercing as they scanned both you and Alison. His lips curled into a predatory smile, and you felt a shiver trickle down your spine.

"Come in, close the door," Thomas said, his voice carrying the weight of authority.

Alison stepped aside, allowing you to enter first. You walked slowly across the threshold, careful not to make eye contact with Thomas, your heart racing in your chest. You followed the path Alison had shown you earlier that evening, walking towards the centre of the room. As you approached, Thomas' presence became more pronounced, enveloping you in his powerful aura.

"Y/N, stand here," he ordered, pointing to a spot near the edge of the large, ornate bed. As you moved closer, the fine detailing of the furniture around you caught your attention.

The opulence of the room seemed to overwhelm you, a stark contrast to the simple life you had once known. Standing beside Alison, you took it all in – the rich fabric of the curtains, the intricate patterns carved into the bedposts, and the sense of power that hung thick in the air. Thomas' eyes bore into you, his intensity causing your pulse to race faster.

Alison broke the silence, addressing Thomas with a calm demeanour. "Mr. Shelby, Y/N has proven herself capable of pleasing you, so what do you expect of her tonight?" she asked.

His lips tightened, the lines around his eyes deepening.

"Well, first, I want to see how receptacle she is to my touch, and then, we shall see, eh?” Tommy said, and your heart raced as you absorbed his words, trying to hide your nervousness.

Alison seemed unfazed by his crude language, her face remaining composed.

"Of course, Mr. Shelby," she replied coolly, maintaining her composure despite the demanding situation.

Tommy's eyes locked onto yours, assessing your reaction. He leaned back against the bedpost, his gaze turning predatory. "Let's begin then."

You hesitated for a moment, feeling the heat of embarrassment rise within you.

"Undress, Sweetheart," Tommy then ordered, his tone commanding and authoritative. With trembling hands, you began to shed your clothes, revealing your body to him for the first time as you stood there, vulnerable and exposed.

Tommy walked towards you, his eyes trailing across your now-exposed body. You held your breath, trying to mask your discomfort. "Beautiful," he whispered, running his fingers lightly along your skin.

You felt your cheeks flush as you met his gaze, a mixture of surprise and attraction burning in your eyes.

Without warning, he grasped your wrist, pulling you toward him. Your breath hitched as you found yourself pressed against his hard chest, the heat of his body seeping into yours. You closed your eyes, trying to remain composed amidst the intense sensations coursing through your body.

"Don't be afraid, Love," he murmured, his voice low and seductive.

"This isn't something to be ashamed of." Your eyes met his, finding solace in the sincerity of his words. You allowed yourself to relax slightly, the tension easing from your shoulders. As your confidence grew, so did the desire coursing through your veins.

He led you over to the bed, sitting you down on its edge. He positioned himself behind you, his hands resting gently on your shoulders. "You must trust me, eh," he whispered into your ear, sending shivers down your spine.

"I won't hurt you." His tender touch made you believe him, even though a part of you wondered if he was lying. Still, you found yourself wanting to surrender completely to him despite the lingering uncertainty.

Slowly, he ran his hands up and down your arms, gently tracing the curves of your body. His touch was gentle yet firm, stirring both excitement and trepidation within you. The warmth of his touch caused your heart to beat faster, filling you with a longing for more.

His touch was masterful, expertly skimming over your skin with just enough pressure to leave you wanting. As his hands continued their journey down your body, you found yourself growing increasingly aroused. You were caught between the desire to satiate your yearnings and the fear of revealing too much of yourself.

Your mind drifted to the various lessons Alison had taught you, trying to find strength in those memories. You remembered the way she spoke of Thomas, describing him as possessive yet kind.

"Now, listen carefully," he began, his voice resonating with control.

"I want you to lie down, legs spread open so that I can get a good look at what I acquired," Thomas told you before gesturing for Alison to join you on the large bed.

Alison, ever composed, obeyed his order without hesitation. You watched her, taking note of her composure.

"Come here, pet, rest your head on my lap and present yourself to who owns you now," she said, her language surprisingly crude and dominant, just like Thomas enjoyed it.

You felt your heart quicken, unsure if you could fully comprehend her words. But as Thomas' strong fingers wrapped around your nape, you realised that you needed to submit to his will, as Alison had advised you previously.

So, you obliged, placing your head upon his strong lap and looking up into his penetrating eyes. They were cold, like steel, but there was also a hint of tenderness beneath it.

"Spread your legs wide for me, Love," he commanded, his voice harsh yet commanding.

Obeying instinctively, you extended your legs, feeling the vulnerability of your exposed position. As you lay there, exposed and submissive, you couldn't help but feel the intense mixture of fear and arousal coursing through your veins.

"Look at me," he demanded, his voice echoing throughout the room. Unwilling to disobey, you raised your gaze to meet his steely eyes.

"Do you understand that you belong to me? That your body belongs to me?" He asked, his tone demanding an answer.

Nodding your head, you acknowledged his claim, feeling the weight of his ownership settling upon your shoulders. You swallowed hard, the lump forming in your throat growing larger with each passing second. As you lay there, feeling the heat radiating from his body, you tried to come to terms with the fact that you belonged to him.

"Good girl," he cooed. "Now let me have a look and see whether you are really still a virgin, eh?" Tommy smirked playfully, his eyes filled with curiosity and determination. Despite your anxiety, you felt a rush of excitement surge through your veins. This was a new experience, one that would change your life forever.

As you lay there, exposed and vulnerable, the room was filled with an electric tension. The atmosphere was charged with desire and apprehension. Your eyes darted to Alison, who remained poised and calm, seemingly unaffected by the intensity of the situation. She smiled at you encouragingly, conveying confidence and reassurance.

Your heart skipped a beat as Thomas approached, his powerful presence casting a shadow over you.

"Are you ready?" he whispered, his voice a low rumble that vibrated through your core.

Nodding your head, you managed a small smile, hoping it conveyed your readiness. Your stomach flipped in anticipation, and your heart raced in your chest.

"That's my good girl," he responded his approval warming your soul. He leaned in, his rough fingers tenderly tracing your cheekbone.

"Trust me, Love, I will be gentle. I won't claim you just yet, not until tomorrow night," he whispered softly, his warm breath tickling your ear. Your heart leapt, caught between excitement and apprehension. You wanted to give yourself wholly to him, even though doubt still lingered in the back of your mind. However, Alison's assurance that Thomas wasn't entirely cruel lent you some comfort.

With a delicate touch, he began exploring your body. His hands brushed over your sensitive skin, eliciting waves of pleasure you'd never imagined possible before, finally descending to your core to assess the condition of what he purchased.

You felt a mixture of nervousness and anticipation as his fingers traced over your slit before he opened you up slightly. He then used two fingers to spread your pussy lips open slightly, determining the truth of your virginity.

You felt a twinge of pain and discomfort, which only heightened your awareness of your vulnerability. Yet, simultaneously, you found yourself becoming increasingly aroused by the intense sensations.

As he examined you, you felt a strange blend of fear and arousal, a complex mix of emotions that you had never experienced before. The knowledge that you belonged to Thomas, that he could do anything he pleased with you, sent a thrill of excitement coursing through your veins.

"You are already wet, my love. Are you enjoying this?" Tommy asked his voice husky with desire. You nodded, unable to find your voice due to the intensity of the sensations coursing through your body. His fingers were skilled, teasing you expertly, drawing out your pleasure and tormenting you simultaneously. It was a sensation, unlike anything you had ever experienced before, leaving you craving more of his touch.

Thomas's gaze locked onto yours, his expression one of satisfaction and control. "You're so responsive, sweetheart," he purred, leaning in to press his lips against your forehead.

"Let's see how you taste, eh?" Tommy said, wanting to run his tongue through your slit.

You couldn't hide the mixture of fear and excitement that gripped you at his proposal. But as his face drew closer to your core, you felt a surge of trust welling up inside you. Perhaps it was because Alison had been so kind and reassuring, or maybe it was simply your growing desire for Thomas. Whatever the reason, you allowed him to take you in his mouth, opening your legs wider to accommodate him.

As he began to taste you, you closed your eyes, letting the exquisite sensations wash over you.

Thomas's mouth moved skillfully, causing waves of pleasure to course through your body. You moaned softly, lost in the intensity of the moment.

Meanwhile, Alison watched you both intently, silently observing the interplay between you and Thomas. There was a sense of pride in her eyes but also some profound jealousy.

She wanted Thomas to acknowledge her as his primary source of lust, not some inferior second choice. However, she knew that your innocence held certain allurements for Thomas. Thus, she didn't show her feelings on her face, hiding them well.

You, however, were too preoccupied with the sensations cascading through your body to notice her jealousy.

The sensations continued to build, culminating in a powerful climax that left you shuddering. Thomas released you from his grasp, pulling away to admire your flushed face and quivering form.

You looked up at him, the afterglow of passion evident in your eyes. His gaze burned with possession and desire, the power dynamic between you tangible in the air.

"This is just tonight's beginning, Love," he murmured softly, a wicked grin playing on his lips, and your heart raced as you processed his words, anticipation building within you.

"Now, what do you think, Alison? How many fingers could I get into her virgin hole without tearing her?" Tommy asked, his voice laced with dark desire for you.

Alison raised her brows in a challenge and considered for a moment. "Two fingers, no more than that," she replied confidently.

"Two, eh?" Tommy mocked. "How about we start with one, Love?" Tommy suggested before asking you to spread your legs wide again.

As you complied, your nerves became jangled with anticipation.

You looked at Alison, seeking guidance from her as you lay there, exposed and vulnerable. Her cool demeanour seemed unshaken, giving you courage. She smiled reassuringly, telling you that you could handle this.

As Thomas moved closer, his hands slowly caressed your thighs, sending shivers down your spine. He took his time, pressing his first fingers against your entrance, attempting to penetrate you gently.

You cringed at the sudden intrusion, your body tensing in response.

Thomas, surprised by your tightness, forced his digit into you nonetheless.

You cried out in pain, your body resisting his intrusion. He stopped, hesitated for a moment, then pulled his finger out carefully. Alison's expression remained unchanged, unperturbed by your distress.

"You may need some practice, Love," Thomas commented, his voice dripping with condescension. You bit your lip, trying to control your tears, fighting back the urge to succumb to despair. You refused to accept defeat, determined to prove your worth in Thomas's eyes.

"I can take more than one finger, sir," you said defiantly, looking directly into his eyes. Thomas regarded you with a mix of curiosity and appreciation.

"Let's see how much you can truly take, Love," he murmured, his tone hinting at the challenge ahead. Slowly, he pressed his second finger against your entrance, this time applying more pressure. You winced, your body instinctively protesting the intrusion.

Thomas observed your reaction closely, his eyes narrowing in concentration.

As you clenched your teeth, refusing to cry out in pain, he pushed his finger deeper into you. Despite the burning sensation, you maintained your resolve, staring straight into his eyes with determination. Alison continued to watch from the sidelines, her demeanour unmoved by your discomfort.

"Not bad, Love," Thomas acknowledged, his voice imbued with respect. His fingers flexed within you, pushing further in as you tried to bear the increasing discomfort.

Your face contorted with pain, your body struggling to adjust to the foreign invasion. With each incremental advance, you gritted your teeth, silently vowing to overcome the pain.

Alison's gaze remained steady, unwavering, her expression betraying no sympathy for your suffering. As your agony intensified, you felt a renewed sense of determination, fueled by your need to prove yourself worthy in Thomas's eyes.

Sweat trickled down your forehead, a testament to your resolve.

"I can take it," you reassured Tommy again, even with tears forming in the corner of your eyes.

Thomas was now visibly impressed with your resilience. He admired your courage and tenacity in the face of immense pain.

"I know you can, Love, but I don't want to stretch you too much just yet. My cock will take care of that tomorrow night," he groaned, withdrawing his fingers from you, causing a wave of relief to wash over you.

You wiped away the tears, taking deep breaths to calm your ragged nerves. Your chest rose and fell rapidly, trying to regain composure.

Alison watched Thomas's every move with an unreadable expression, her thoughts hidden behind her emotionless mask. She seemed neither envious nor impressed, merely observant.

You looked at Thomas, seeing something new in his eyes - a hint of admiration, perhaps even respect." Tomorrow night, Love, I will not be so kind," Tommy then said to you, his voice carrying a warning mixed with promise. Your heart skipped a beat, the excitement growing within you before he told you to leave his bedroom so that he could finish off with Alison.

"Mr Shelby, may I watch? Perhaps I could learn something from it for our encounter tomorrow night," you suggested, and Thomas smirked.

"By all means, Love, you can watch while fuck Alison. Although bear in mind that what I am about to do to her is not something you will be capable of enduring just yet, eh" Thomas said before motioning for Alison to come over so that he could fuck her.

She approached him with a cool confidence, undoubtedly aware of the power dynamics between them.

Your eyes followed every movement, absorbing the raw, primal energy of their interaction.

Without losing any time, Alison got on to all fours.

"Very good, Alison. She knows that this is how I like to fuck her," Tommy said before he took position behind her, grasping her hips firmly and pulling her close to him.

He was hard and ready after having toyed with you for an hour, and, without losing any time, he lined himself up with Alison's entrance without giving consideration as to whether she was wet enough or not.

His forceful entry caused Alison to let out a sharp gasp, her body jolting slightly as she tried to adapt to his unexpectedly brutal thrust.

Thomas, driven by lust and power, took control of the situation, forcing Alison to submit to his desires. Her resistance, if there ever was any, was crushed under the weight of his dominance.

You watched with bated breath, fascinated by the spectacle unfolding before you. Alison's face remained impassive, though her eyes betrayed a mixture of pain and resignation.

In her moments of quiet defiance, she would occasionally look over at you, her gaze holding a subtle challenge. It was clear that she was both envious and threatened by your presence, torn between admiration for Thomas's preference for you and fear of being replaced entirely.

As Thomas continued his brutal assault on Alison, you found yourself growing increasingly aroused by the sight. The erotic tension between them heightened, fuelling your own desires.

You could not help but feel a twinge of envy as you watched Thomas and Alison engage in their fierce, unapologetic union. Their bodies moved in harmony, each thrust eliciting a moan or grunt from the other. Thomas's strength and dominance contrasted beautifully with Alison's feigned indifference, creating a seductive dance of power and submission.

Your heart raced as you observed their fervent exchange, your breath quickening with each powerful thrust.

The atmosphere in the room was charged with palpable sexual tension, leaving you feeling utterly captivated. Alison's performance was a masterclass in maintaining composure despite the brutality of Thomas's thrusts. It was almost as if she enjoyed being on the receiving end of his domination, albeit with a veiled resentment towards you for being his chosen concubine.

As the intensity of their coupling reached its peak, Thomas pulled out of Allison and called for you.

"Kneel and open your mouth. I want you to take my cum" he said, his voice laced with authority. You felt a surge of power as you obeyed him, opening your mouth eagerly, your lips parted in anticipation. Thomas's arousal was evident as he stood above you, his eyes filled with desire.

"Make sure you swallow, eh?" he groaned before shooting his load into your open mouth. Your cheeks bulged as you swallowed, savouring the taste of his seed as it coursed down your throat. The act served as a reminder of your place in his world – submissive and willing to please him at any cost.

Thomas watched you intently, a hint of satisfaction playing across his features. His gaze held a mixture of admiration and possession, making you feel cherished but also owned. Alison, having witnessed the entire encounter, glared at you with a jealous, defiant air.

You held her gaze, unfazed by her hostility. Though you were physically weak, your spirit was strong, unbowed by her disapproval. The battle lines had been drawn, and you knew that your relationship with Thomas would only grow more complicated as time passed.

As you cleaned up, you could not help but feel a sense of accomplishment. Though the evening's events left you drained and sore, you knew Thomas's trust in you had grown significantly.

709 notes · View notes

bloomingdayswithyou · 1 year

Note

can I make a request for obey me? How the 7 brothers would flirt with a female mc? thanks!!!

How would the brothers flirt with MC

Author’s note: I usually would do only 3, but I couldn’t choose so I just did all of them <3

You can check pt. 2 with other characters here

1. Lucifer:

Lucifer's flirting style with mc includes a balance of refinement and intellectual charm. He values intelligence and elegance and appreciates those qualities on a person.

When flirting with her, Lucifer would often invite her to formal events, treating her like a lady. He would extend his arm for a graceful dance or engage her in sophisticated conversations during lavish parties.

Lucifer's compliments would focus on her intellect, wit, and ability to handle complex matters.

He would appreciate her for that, acknowledging her opinions and valuing her insights.

His admiration for her would manifest through thoughtful gestures, such as presenting her with rare books or inviting her to join him in discussions about literature, history or other topics.

In private moments, however, Lucifer might reveal his vulnerable side, opening up about the pressures of his role as the Avatar of Pride and expressing how mc’s presence brings him solace.

He might engage her in philosophical debates, relishing the intellectual simulation their conversations provide.

2. Mammon:

His flirtatious behavior towards mc is filled with playful banter and a hint of protectiveness.

He adores mc and is often torn between wanting to impress her and teasing her relentlessly.

He would refer to her as “Princess” or “Darlin’”, playfully using terms like these to establish a sense of familiarity and affection.

Mammon’s attempts at impressing her would involve flashy gifts or extravagant gestures. He might sweep her off her feet with surprises, like organizing a private fireworks display or reserving an entire amusement park for a day of exclusive fun.

Despite his nature, his possessiveness would become evident when other people show interest in mc. He would make it his mission to get all of her attention, constantly reminding her of his affection and playfully challenging anyone who dares to come close.

While his flirting includes teasing and cheeky compliments about mc’s appearance, he also has moments of vulnerability where he reveals his fears and insecurities.

Being the Avatar of Greed, he might struggle with self-stem and worry that he isn’t enough for mc.

In these moments, mc’s reassurance and genuine care would mean the world to him, and he would shower her with affection, showcasing his genuine feelings.

3. Leviathan:

Levi’s approach to flirting with mc revolves around their shared interests and virtual escapades.

He appreciates her understanding and acceptance of his passion for games and anime, finding solace in her presence.

When flirting, Levi would invite her to gaming sessions, exploring various virtual worlds together and experiencing thrilling adventures side by side.

He would discuss strategy and tactics with her, valuing her insights and appreciating her ability to think strategically.

Levi might recommend new games or anime that he thinks she would enjoy, taking pleasure in introducing her to his favorite titles.

In the virtual realm, he would be more confident and expressive, allowing their connection to flourish.

As their bond deepens, Levi might shyly confess his affection, expressing how grateful he is to have found someone who appreciates his hobbies and understands him.

He would reveal the extent of his vulnerability, sharing stories of his struggles with social interactions and the comfort he finds in their companionship.

In these moments, Levi’s affectionate side shines through, and he becomes more open and expressive about his feelings.

4. Satan:

His flirting style centers around intellectual and literary pursuits.

As an avid reader, Satan is drawn to her intellect and curiosity. He finds joy in their shared love for books and knowledge, viewing her as a kindred spirit.

When flirting, Satan would recommend books, poems, or thought-provoking articles that he thinks mc would appreciate, sparking engaging discussions between them.

They might spend time in the library together, exchanging ideas and delving into deep conversations about their favorite authors or literary theories.

Satan would value her insights and opinions, seeking her perspectives on various subjects. His compliments would focus on her intelligence, insightfulness, and the stimulating discussions they have.

His affectionate side would surface when they are alone, away from the prying eyes of his demon brothers.

In these private moments, he would reveal his vulnerabilities, sharing personal stories and embracing her as a trusted confidant.

He might express his gratitude for her presence in his life, describing how she brings balance to his sometimes chaotic emotions.

Satan’s flirting would Inter wine with profound conversations, creating a deep emotional connection between them.

5. Asmodeus:

Asmo would employ his instinct for glamour and beauty to captivate mc.

He finds joy in adorning others with his fashion expertise and takes pride in enhancing their appearance. When flirting, Asmo would offer fashion advice, helping her choose stylish outfits that accentuate her features and personality.

He might even design unique ensembles for her, showcasing his creativity and attention to detail.

Asmo would plan spa days or makeovers, pampering mc with luxurious treatments that make her feel like a queen.

He would compliment her on her beauty, highlighting her elegance and grace. As the Avatar of Lust, his flirtatious remarks would often revolve around her physical appearance, but he would also emphasize the beauty he sees within her, appreciating her inner radiance.

Beyond the superficial, Asmo is also caring and affectionate. He would create a safe space for mc, encouraging her to open up about her dreams, desires and insecurities.

He would showe her with compliments, recognizing her strengths and making her feel cherished and desired.

Asmo would revel in romantic gestures, believing that love should be celebrated and expressed in a bold way.

6. Beelzebub:

His flirting style revolves around shared meals and engaging in physical activities together.

He find comfort in their companionship and appreciates mc’s understanding of his insatiable appetite.

When flirting, Beel would invite her to try delicious foods, cooking for her or taking her to the best entries in the demon realm.

They might embark on culinary adventures, discovering unique flavors and bonding over shared gastronomic experiences. Beel might challenge her to eating contests, playfully competing with her while sharing hearty laughs.

Through these activities, he would express his desire to experience the hoys of life with her by his side.

In addition to this, Beel would encourage her to participate in physical activities like sports, workouts, our outdoor adventures.

He would cherish their time together and celebrate their shared interests. Beel’s flirtatious gestures would often be accompanied by his infectious laughter and warmth, creating and atmosphere of happiness and friendship.

7. Belphegor

Belphie’s flirtatious behavior towards mc is infused with humor, laziness, and a touch of mischief.

He often appears uninterested but secretly keeps an eye on her, observing her every move.

When flirting, Belphie would playfully tease her, pretending to be uninterested while dropping hints of his affection to catch her attention.

He might engage in witty banter, using his dry wit and sarcasm to make her laugh. Belphie would suggest fun and relaxed activities that cater to their shared laziness, such as napping together, binge-watching shows, or enjoying lazy afternoons under a shared blanket.

In these moments, he would create a comfortable and lighthearted atmosphere, allowing mc to feel at ease in his presence.

Belphie’s flirtation would often involve subtle gestures that express his care and protectiveness.

He might fall asleep next to mc, subconsciously seeking her warmth and companionship. His mischief would give away to moments of vulnerability, where he reveals his true emotions and the depth of his feelings.

Belphie would cherish mc’s ability to accept him for who he is and would shower her with affectionate gestures that reflect his genuine care and admiration.

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pin-k-ink · 4 months

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monochrome // ulquiorra schiffer (pt. 1)

tw ⇢ dark content, stalking/spying (kinda), violence, imprisonment, torture, dehumanization, intimidation cx it’s ulquiorra, slow burn (as slow as i could make it for a two-part story), kinda fluffy, ulquiorra tryna show affection in his own way

wc ⇢ 9.6k

a/n: do yall actually want a part two for this?

Ulquiorra's lithe form hovered imperceptibly outside your bedroom window, his presence cloaked by the veil of night. With an impassive expression etched upon his pallid features, he observed your every move through narrowed eyes, his disdain for humanity simmering just beneath the surface.

You were an enigma to him, a puzzle he could not solve – a mere human, and yet, according to Aizen, you possessed an extraordinary ability to negate powers. Ulquiorra scoffed inwardly at the notion, his gaze trailing your movements as you danced around your room, giggling softly as your feline companion batted playfully at the loose tendrils of your hair.

To Ulquiorra, such frivolous behavior was a baffling display of human weakness, a mere distraction from the harsh realities of existence. His brow furrowed ever so slightly as you twirled, lost in a moment of pure, unbridled joy, your laughter echoing like a discordant melody in his ears.

"Foolish creature," he murmured, his deep baritone laced with contempt. "Reveling in such meaningless diversions while your inevitable demise looms ever closer."

Yet, as much as he wished to tear his gaze away from the perplexing scene before him, Ulquiorra found himself transfixed, his curiosity piqued despite his better judgment. He had witnessed countless battles, had seen the depths of human depravity and weakness, and yet, there was something about you that defied his understanding.

As the night dragged on, and your playful antics with the feline eventually subsided, Ulquiorra's frustration mounted. Another fruitless day had passed without a glimpse of the powers Aizen had spoken of, and he could feel the tendrils of impatience coiling within him.

With a barely perceptible sigh, he tore his gaze away from your slumbering form and turned his back on the human realm, his mind already formulating his report to Aizen. Perhaps tomorrow would yield better results, or perhaps this mission was nothing more than a colossal waste of his time and effort. Only time would tell, but for now, Ulquiorra could not shake the nagging sense of bewilderment that your mere existence had stirred within him.

The following day, Ulquiorra found himself once again trailing your every move, his curiosity stubbornly refusing to wane despite his reservations. As the first rays of dawn pierced the inky blackness of the night, he watched from the shadows as you emerged from your home, backpack slung over your shoulder, and joined the two human girls he recognized as Inoue Orihime and Arisawa Tatsuki.

With a slight furrow of his brow, Ulquiorra observed the easy camaraderie shared between the three of you, the melodic lilt of your laughter carrying on the gentle morning breeze. It was a foreign concept to him, this notion of forming bonds and deriving joy from mere companionship. In his world, such frivolities were weaknesses to be exploited, vulnerabilities that served no purpose in the grand scheme of existence.

As you made your way to the educational institution, Ulquiorra followed, his movements silent and purposeful, his gaze unwavering as he studied your every nuance. From the way you diligently took notes in class to the way you laughed and joked with your peers during the brief respite of lunchtime, he found himself inexplicably drawn to the seemingly mundane details of your life.

To Ulquiorra, these small, human moments were perplexing, a puzzle he could not quite piece together. Why waste precious moments on such trivial pursuits when the inevitability of death loomed ever closer? Why forge bonds that would inevitably be severed by the cruel hand of fate?

Yet, as he watched you interact with those around you, a flicker of something akin to envy stirred within him, a foreign emotion he quickly quashed beneath the weight of his unwavering loyalty to Aizen's cause.

As the hours ticked by, Ulquiorra found himself growing increasingly baffled by your actions, from the way you meticulously braided a friend's hair during a lull in the lessons to the way you cooed over a stray cat that had wandered onto the school grounds. Each gesture, each fleeting moment of joy or compassion, chipped away at his carefully constructed disdain, leaving him teetering on the precipice of understanding.

By the time the final bell rang, signaling the end of the day's festivities, Ulquiorra had reached a reluctant conclusion – he was no closer to unraveling the mystery of your supposed abilities than he had been the day before. With a barely perceptible shake of his head, he turned his back on the human realm once more, his mind already formulating his report to Aizen as he made his way back to the desolate sands of Hueco Mundo.

The days bled into weeks, and still, Ulquiorra found himself no closer to unraveling the enigma that was your existence. With each passing moment spent observing your seemingly mundane life, his impatience mounted, a simmering ember of frustration that threatened to consume his usual stoic demeanor.

Aizen's orders rang clear in his mind – to study your abilities, to dissect the mechanics of your power to negate, and yet, you remained an infuriatingly inscrutable puzzle. It was a failure Ulquiorra could not abide, a blemish on his otherwise impeccable record of obedience and duty.

Thus, it was with a sense of grim determination that Ulquiorra decided to take matters into his own hands. If you would not reveal your true potential through mere observation, then he would force your hand, create a situation that would leave you no choice but to unleash the abilities that had so piqued Aizen's interest.

Under the cloak of night, Ulquiorra slipped seamlessly into the human realm, his reiatsu carefully concealed as he made his way to the outskirts of your neighborhood. With a flick of his wrist, he summoned forth a hollow, a grotesque amalgamation of teeth and claws that hungered for the souls of the living.

"Go," he commanded, his tone brooking no argument. "Draw her out. Force her to reveal her power."

The hollow, sensing the promise of a fresh meal, let out a guttural roar before lumbering off into the night, its footfalls shaking the very earth beneath Ulquiorra's feet.

It did not take long for the commotion to reach your ears, and Ulquiorra watched with bated breath as you emerged from your home, a look of grim determination etched upon your features. He felt a flicker of something akin to curiosity as you squared your shoulders, facing down the towering hollow with an unflinching resolve that seemed at odds with your fragile human form.

And then, in a single, breathtaking moment, you unleashed the full force of your abilities.

Ulquiorra's eyes widened ever so slightly as a shimmering wave of energy pulsed outward from your body, rippling through the air like a stone skipping across the surface of a placid lake. The hollow, caught in the throes of your power, let out a guttural screech as its very essence was negated, its form dissolving into nothingness before Ulquiorra's disbelieving gaze.

For a heartbeat, Ulquiorra found himself in the thrall of awe, his usually impassive mask slipping ever so slightly as he bore witness to the sheer magnitude of your abilities. But just as quickly as the moment had come, it passed, and his expression hardened once more, a flicker of disdain reigniting within the depths of his emerald eyes.

Such a powerful ability, confined within the fragile vessel of a human – a mere speck in the grand tapestry of existence. It was a cruel twist of fate, a mockery of the natural order, and Ulquiorra felt a surge of something akin to disgust as he watched you retreat back into the safety of your home, oblivious to the weight of the power you wielded.

As he turned his back on the human realm once more, Ulquiorra's mind was already churning, formulating his report to Aizen. The depths of your abilities had been revealed, and now, it was only a matter of time before you were brought to heel, forced to serve the machinations of those far greater than yourself.

For in Ulquiorra's world, sentiment and weakness had no place – only power, and the unwavering will to wield it without mercy.

The tranquil silence of the night was violently shattered by a thunderous tearing sound that jolted you awake. Your eyes widened in sheer terror as a gaping void ripped open in your bedroom, inky blackness giving way to a pale, slender figure emerging from the shadowy rift.

You clutched your sheets tightly as the intruder's piercing emerald gaze bored into you with unsettling intensity. Taking in his features - the tear-like markings, the bone-white fragment across his face - realization dawned. This was no ordinary being, but one of the Arrancar, Aizen's elite hollow servants.

"Wh-Who are you?" you stammered out, struggling to keep the tremor of fear from your voice. "What do you want from me?"

The Arrancar regarded you with frigid indifference. "You are to be brought to Hueco Mundo on Aizen-sama's orders," he stated impassively.

You felt your throat constrict at the mention of that traitorous name. Though you didn't fully understand Aizen's motivations, you knew of his betrayal and the unholy powers he now wielded. Dread gripped you as you realized this Arrancar intended to take you straight into the realm of hollows.

"No, I won't go," you protested, hating how small your voice sounded even to your own ears as you weakly shook your head. "I don't know what that man wants, but I can't..."

In a blur of motion, the Arrancar appeared in front you. You flinched, trying desperately to summon your negation abilities, but he was impossibly fast. Before you could react, his iron grip clamped around your wrist with bruising force, rendering you helpless.

You opened your mouth to plead, to reason with this hollow monster, but he silenced you with a single dispassionate look.

"Resistance is meaningless," he stated flatly as he began inexorably dragging you towards the gaping maw of the garganta. "You belong to Aizen-sama now."

As the inky blackness enclosed around you, consuming any sense of safety or hope, you felt hot tears spill down your cheeks. You were being taken, against your will, into the lair of Aizen's demons - delivered unto the grasping claws of madness itself.

You cowered in the dimly lit cell of Las Noches, your arms wrapped tightly around yourself as you tried in vain to stop the uncontrollable tremors wracking your body. Since being forcibly brought to Hueco Mundo by Ulquiorra, each day had bled into a relentless torment of experiments and tests at Aizen's hands.

The traitorous ex-captain seemed endlessly fascinated by your ability to negate spiritual powers. Like a scientist dissecting a rare specimen, he would subject you to all manner of trials and observations as he sought to unravel the mechanics behind your unique gifts.

Some days, you were made to exert your negation on lesser hollows, extinguishing their powers until they disintegrated into mere spiritual particles. Other times, you found yourself strapped down as Aizen's reiatsu bore down on you like a suffocating force, pushing you to the limits of endurance.

Through it all, Ulquiorra remained an ever-present, silent sentinel - his emerald gaze watchful and unreadable as he oversaw your misery under Aizen's orders. You weren't sure what unnerved you more - the cruel indifference with which the Arrancar regarded your suffering, or the fleeting glimmers of some indecipherable emotion in those jade-colored depths.

As the door to your cell creaked open, you flinched, scooting back against the wall as Ulquiorra's lithe form stepped through the entrance. You had come to dread the sight of him, for it heralded yet another bout of Aizen's demented trials.

Surprisingly, he made no move to approach you. Instead, he leveled that unflinching stare at you from across the cell.

"Aizen-sama demands a demonstration of your negation abilities against an Espada-level combatant," Ulquiorra stated flatly. "You will exert your powers against me without restraint."

You felt your heart plummet at his words, a tendril of fear snaking through you. Going up against an elite Arrancar like Ulquiorra was tantamount to a death sentence.

Before you could voice your protest, he was suddenly there, right before you. His hand lanced out with blinding speed, fisting in the fabric of your shirt as he bodily hauled you upright until you were nose-to-nose with him.

"Do not test my patience, woman," he warned, his tone as cold and lifeless as the desert night in Hueco Mundo. "You will obey, or suffer the consequences."

As you stared into the depthless jade pools of his eyes, you realized with a start that there was no hatred there - no anger, no malice. Just...emptiness. As if you were utterly insignificant in his world view.

And perhaps, in that moment, you truly were.

Ulquiorra's unblinking stare bored into you, his piercing emerald gaze unwavering as he awaited your response. You swallowed thickly, apprehension and fear churning in the pit of your stomach.

"I...I don't want to hurt you," you said, hating the tremor of weakness in your own voice. Using your negation abilities against someone as powerful as an Espada seemed tantamount to signing your own death warrant.

"Aizen-sama's will is absolute," Ulquiorra intoned, his breath fanning across your face. "You exist solely at his whim. Would you prefer I end your defiance here?"

You felt your heart stutter in your chest as his reiatsu intensified, stealing the very air from your lungs. Darkness crept at the edges of your vision as panic set in.

Steeling your resolve, you grit your teeth and focused your negation abilities, praying they would be enough. A rippling aura shimmered around you as you exerted your will against Ulquiorra's overwhelming power.

At first, nothing seemed to happen. Ulquiorra's indomitable reiatsu pressed down on you, inexorable and unyielding. But then, almost imperceptibly, you felt it...a hairline fracture in his spiritual fortress.

Driven by desperation and the will to survive, you poured everything into widening that crack, your negation energies swirling around the Espada in a maelstrom of power.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, you saw Ulquiorra's mask of stoicism falter. A muscle twitched in his jaw as he grit his teeth, his vice-like grip on your shirt wavering ever so slightly.

But just as you sensed victory within your grasp, Ulquiorra's leg buckled and he dropped to one knee, his breath escaping in a harsh rasp.

A startled gasp tore from your lips as Ulquiorra unexpectedly dropped to one knee before you. For a fleeting instant, disbelief flooded your senses – had your negation abilities actually affected this elite Arrancar?

Without a second thought, you quickly reined in your powers, the maelstrom of energy dissipating as rapidly as it had manifested. Concern furrowed your brow as you took a hesitant step towards Ulquiorra's kneeling form.

"Ulquiorra? Are you al-"

Your words died in your throat as his hand lashed out with blinding speed, backhanding you across the face with staggering force. You cried out in pain, crumpling to the floor as you cradled your stinging cheek, eyes wide with shock and fear.

"Foolish woman," Ulquiorra's voice sliced through you like a blade as he rose fluidly to his feet once more, all traces of weakness banished. "Did you truly delude yourself into believing I required your pathetic overtures of concern?"

He regarded you with an intensity that rooted you to the spot, his emerald gaze as frigid and unfeeling as the heart of Hueco Mundo itself.

"Let this be a lesson," he stated, his tone laced with barely contained disdain. "To show care for your enemy is an exercise in sentimentality – a cloying attachment that serves no purpose in the grand design of Lord Aizen's vision."

You flinched as he took a purposeful step towards you, fighting the urge to cower under the weight of his suffocating reiatsu.

"I am an Espada. A warrior bred for battle and conquest," Ulquiorra's words sliced into you like a razor's caress. "Your attempts at rendering aid are not only futile but an insult to my very existence. Do not make the mistake of offering your misguided sympathies again."

As he turned on his heel and strode from the chamber, his coattails billowing behind him, you felt something deep within you fracture – the last vestiges of hope that this hollow monster could be anything more than the soulless, unfeeling creature he presented to the world.

For in his world of conquest and carnage, compassion was a luxury ill-afforded, and sentiments like concern merely shackled one to the cloying weaknesses of heart that he had long since cast aside.

And in that moment, you realized the true depths of the chasm that separated your worlds - one that no amount of yearning could ever bridge.

The following day, the imposing figure of Ulquiorra once again materialized in the threshold of your cell. You tensed instinctively, memories of yesterday's chilling disdain and the stinging backhanded blow fresh in your mind.

As he approached, his emerald gaze briefly flickered over the mottled bruise marring your cheek - a discolored memento of his callous reprisal. For a fleeting heartbeat, something indecipherable flickered across his features as he seemed to study the injury.

Reflexively, Ulquiorra's hand extended towards you, as if to trace the contours of the blemish. But just as quickly, he appeared to catch himself, retracting his hand and seamlessly reverting to his usual unreadable mask of stoicism.

If you noticed the aborted gesture at all, you gave no outward sign, pointedly avoiding his piercing stare as you awaited whatever fresh torment awaited at Aizen's behest.

Ulquiorra's mouth pressed into a taut line, betraying no hint of the tumult that had momentarily breached his icy exterior. When he spoke, his tone was as dispassionately even as ever.

"Aizen-sama has decreed you require rest and sustenance to ensure optimal conditioning for further trials," he stated flatly. "A medic will be arriving shortly to assess your state."

With that, he turned and swept from the chamber, leaving you to wonder at the meaning behind that split-second lapse in his typical indifference.

True to his words, the grind of the cell door opening soon heralded the arrival of a diminutive Arrancar - presumably the aforementioned medic. As they bustled over, you found yourself replaying that singular moment in your mind, unable to shake the peculiar sense that you had glimpsed something achingly human lurking behind Ulquiorra's hollowed facade.

But perhaps it was merely wishful thinking - a fragile delusion constructed to safeguard you from the bleakness of your reality as a captive.

A week's endless cycle of Aizen's depraved experiments had left you utterly drained, your body screaming in protest as Szayel unstrapped you from the cold metal table. The pink-haired Espada's golden eyes glinted with a mixture of fascination and something darker as he trailed a lingering hand along your arm.

"My, what delightfully intriguing spiritual composition," he purred in that simpering tone that never failed to make your skin crawl. "Lord Aizen will be most pleased with the data I've gathered."

You shuddered involuntarily at his touch, hating how helpless and exposed you felt under his lecherous gaze. As if sensing your discomfort, Szayel leaned in uncomfortably close, his lips curling into a serpentine smile.

"Why so tense, my dear? The assessments have only just begun," he crooned with perverse relish. "I have so many more...invasive tests planned for your unique abil-"

"Szayel Aporro."

The Octava's head whipped around at the sound of Ulquiorra's flat baritone, his leer faltering momentarily at the sight of the Cuatro Espada framed in the entrance.

"Ulquiorra," he recovered with a simpering smile. "Always so punctual in attending to your duties as warden."

There was an undercurrent of mocking derision in Szayel's tone that did not escape Ulquiorra's notice. The slightest furrow creased his marble brow as his penetrating emerald gaze seemed to bore into the other Arrancar.

"Your presence is no longer required," Ulquiorra stated in that dispassionate timbre that brooked no argument. "Leave us."

For a moment, it seemed Szayel would protest, his jaw tightening ever so slightly. But then, just as suddenly, his features smoothed over into an exaggerated pout.

"As you wish," he demurred with an indolent shrug, slinking past Ulquiorra with one last conspiratorial wink in your direction.

As the door ground shut behind Szayel, sealing you both in the chamber, an expectant hush seemed to descend – as if the very air itself held its breath in anticipation. You tensed, unsure of what fresh horrors awaited under Ulquiorra's silent observation.

But instead of approaching, he remained rooted to the spot near the entrance, watching you with that same indecipherable intensity that never failed to evoke a feeling of immense disquiet. His eyes briefly trailed over the fresh lacerations marring your skin from Szayel's "assessments" before snapping back to your face.

Then, in a movement so slow and fluid it appeared entirely unconscious, Ulquiorra extended his hand towards you in an outstretched beckon.

"Come," was his single, softly spoken directive.

Confusion and apprehension warred within you as you eyed his proffered hand with uncertainty. But you knew better than to test his demands for obedience. With a resigned sigh, you slid off the table, your knees buckling treacherously beneath your depleted weight.

You never hit the ground.

In a streak of static displacement, Ulquiorra was suddenly there, his arm encircling your waist in an adamant ring as he effortlessly supported your trembling frame against his own. You tensed at the unexpected contact, but his grip remained unrelenting – not harsh or forceful, but undeniably insistent as he drew you flush against him.

For a moment, you simply remained like that, frozen in his uncompromising embrace as his eyes bored unreadably into yours mere inches away. Up close, you could make out the subtle nuances in his features – the impossibly pale expanse of his sculpted jawline, the slightly parted shape of his lips as they formed silent words you couldn't decipher.

Then, all at once, he straightened to his full imposing height, taking your deadweight with him as he turned and swept from the chamber without a single word.

And for the first time since arriving in Hueco Mundo, you found yourself wondering – just what unfathomable machinations lurked behind those hollow jade depths?

The next day, the grind of the cell door echoed like a death knell, heralding Ulquiorra's arrival for his customary observation. You tensed instinctively, your body still aching from yesterday's lingering exertions under Szayel's scrutiny.

As Ulquiorra's piercing emerald gaze swept over you, taking stock of your condition, you fought back a sudden wave of nausea. Before you could stifle it, your stomach clenched violently and you doubled over, retching up what little sustenance remained in your system.

For a long moment, Ulquiorra watched in silence as you gasped and heaved, your body wracked with tremors. His eyes briefly narrowed, taking note of your sallow complexion and the dark circles etching the hollows beneath your eyes.

"Disgusting," he intoned at last, his usual toneless baritone edging into disdain. "Your human frailties are beginning to manifest."

You flinched at his callous words, swiping the back of your hand across your mouth as you raised your head to meet his unfeeling stare. Unbidden, your eyes stung with unshed tears of rage and frustration.

"What did you expect?" you bit out, jaw clenched against the surge of bitter emotion. "Locked away in this gods-forsaken hellhole, being used as Aizen's twisted lab rat..."

Your voice caught in your throat, forcing you to look away from Ulquiorra's expectant regard as you fought to reign in your turbulent feelings. When you finally continued, your words were laced with a plaintive desperation.

"I'm not built for this, Ulquiorra. I need air, light..." You paused, hating how pathetically small your voice sounded. "...companionship. Being cooped up with only hollows and demons for company is slowly killing me, can't you see that?"

Silence answered your entreaty, heavy and suffocating – the weight of Ulquiorra's verdant regard as inescapable as the cell walls themselves. Finally, he spoke, each word slicing into you with surgical precision.

"Companionship?" There was an edge of something dangerously close to mocking in his tone. "You delude yourself, woman. We are Arrancar – beings of dispassionate solitude by our very nature. Attachments, be they bonds of kinship or..." He allowed his eyes to slowly trail over your disheveled form, "...any other inclination, are crutches ill-afforded to those who walk the path of transcendence."

You opened your mouth, fury and rebuttal burning on your tongue. But Ulquiorra merely continued in that same dispassionate cadence, utterly indifferent to your plight.

"If you place stock in camaraderie or the cloying inanities of human interconnection, know this..." His eyes seemed to bore straight through you, as incisive and immutable as blades of glacial jade. "Your friends are not coming for you, woman. Lord Aizen saw to that – severing any link to the world of the living. Your continued existence in Hueco Mundo is at his discretion and his alone."

With those words hanging like a death knell between you, Ulquiorra turned and swept from the cell, leaving you amid the debris of your shattered hopes with all the callousness of a natural disaster.

And in the hollow silence that remained, you had never felt more profoundly, inexplicably alone.

The following day, Ulquiorra's reentry into your cell was met with a pointed, stoic silence. You refused to even turn your gaze towards him, still seething from the soul-crushing hopelessness of his words the previous day.

He could mock your desire for companionship, for human connection. He could mercilessly reiterate how utterly forsaken and forgotten you were in this desolate realm of hollows. But you would not give him the satisfaction of a reaction.

For a long moment, the only sound was Ulquiorra's measured footfalls as he approached. You could feel the weight of his piercing stare burning into you, demanding your acknowledgment. But you remained stubbornly resolute, teeth gritted and eyes averted.

Just when you were certain he would simply turn and depart as was his cold wont, you heard the whisper of displaced air. In a blur of static dissonance, Ulquiorra had bridged the distance between you, his lithe form now looming mere inches away.

You started at his sudden proximity, unable to suppress the involuntary widening of your eyes as you found yourself pinned beneath the weight of his unrelenting emerald regard.

His expression remained as frigidly impassive as ever, betraying not a flicker of emotion. And yet, in that moment, there was something almost predatory in the set of his jaw, the infinitesimal dilation of his pupils as they seemed to bore straight through you.

"Look at me," he stated flatly, each word enunciated with surgical precision.

You wanted to turn away, to deny him that simple victory. But some primal part of you quailed under the sheer intensity of his presence. It was as if the air itself had taken on a solidity, a near-tangible pressure that suffused the space between your bodies.

Despite yourself, you felt your head turning almost involuntarily until your gaze crashed into the depthless jade pools of Ulquiorra's. Up close, you could make out the subtle contours of his features – the severe angles of his pallid countenance, the slight part of his lips as he seemed to taste the weight of the words unspoken between you.

"Good," he murmured, and you realized with a start just how near his face was to yours, his breath fanning warmly against your skin. "Now repeat after me: I am..."

You wanted to resist. Every fiber of your being burned with rebellious defiance at being cowed by this hollow specter. But the way he held your stare utterly transfixed, commanding your obedience through sheer force of will, robbed you of all volition save capitulation.

"I am..." you echoed back, despising the tremulous rasp of your own voice.

A muscle ticked in Ulquiorra's jaw – the barest perceptible fluctuation that may have hinted at approval. Or perhaps it was simply a trick of the shadows cloaking his eternally unreadable mask.

"...Nothing," he concluded, each syllable bleeding into the weighted silence like a death knell.

You felt something splinter within your chest at the profundity of those words, at the cruel truth they seemed to encapsulate about the state of your existence here. As a prisoner. As Aizen's disposable pawn. As utterly inconsequential in the grand shaping of this realm.

Nothing.

The realization must have shown on your face, for Ulquiorra's mouth curved ever so slightly at the corners – a mere ghost of satisfaction playing across his features.

Straightening once more, he regarded you with an impervious sense of finality, as if your wordless acknowledgment of insignificance had decided some unspoken matter.

"Until you have relinquished those shameful human needs," he stated in that same dispassionate monotone, "you will remain as you are. Powerless. Hollow. Nothing."

With that parting remark slicing into you like a surgeon's scalpel, Ulquiorra turned and strode from your cell, his coattails billowing in his wake as if to emphasize the sheer immutability of his judgment.

And as the grind of the door sealed you once more into that familiar solitude, you realized that perhaps his words rang truer than you cared to admit.

For what were you, if not an ill-bound collection of shattered hopes and fruitless yearnings – adrift in an existence devoid of all meaning save that arbitrated by your captors?

Nothing, indeed.

A pall of stubborn, resentful silence lingered over the following days, your refusal to so much as acknowledge Ulquiorra's presence a wordless rebuke against the cruel truth he had branded upon you.

With each passing visitation, you could sense the Espada's impassive reserve fracturing incrementally – a subtle tightening around his emerald eyes, the barest perceptible flare of his nostrils as he struggled to leash whatever calculatedly indifferent disdain simmered beneath that hollow facade.

He tried goading you, taunting you with reminders of your utter insignificance, your powerlessness. But you remained unmoved, a bastion of willful stoicism that denied him even the satisfaction of a reaction.

By the week's end, there was no mistaking the thread of acrid frustration woven through Ulquiorra's reiatsu each time he manifested in your cell. You could practically taste the venom on your tongue as his penetrating stare bored into you, silently demanding your capitulation.

But still, you held your ground, drawing an almost perverse sense of defiance from denying this hollow creature the acknowledgment he so fervently appeared to crave.

It was on one such charged, bristling vigil that the grind of your cell door opening barely registered in your consciousness, so accustomed had you become to the comings and goings of your inhuman warden.

Ulquiorra's reiatsu washed over you in those first few instants, heavy and oppressive in its intensity. You could sense the Espada closing the distance between you with those same measured, predatory strides.

Then, something else penetrated the weighted quiet – an almost inaudible exhalation, like a world letting out a long-held breath. Frowning, you raised your gaze for the first time in what felt like an eternity.

What you saw caused the words to die on your lips, unvoiced.

There, visible just beyond the threshold of your cell door, the endless sands of Hueco Mundo sprawled outward in a breathtaking vista of desolate beauty, softly backlit by an achingly familiar warmth.

Sunlight.

Your heart stuttered in your chest as the reality of the vision beyond registered – a perfect artificial sky arching across the barren horizon, drenching the pale dunes in rays of welcoming, revitalizing light.

For a moment, you simply gaped at the sight, emotion and longing swelling in your throat. But then you noticed something that caused your breath to catch – the subtle rise and fall of Ulquiorra's shoulders, the slightest furrow of consternation between his brows as he too regarded the sweeping vista.

When he finally spoke, his tone was carefully measured, as if tasting each word before allowing them to pass his lips.

"You wished for light," he stated, and though his inflection remained utterly devoid of any discernible emotion, you could have sworn you detected the faintest undercurrent of something almost akin to... reluctance?

"Aizen-sama has decreed the construction of this false sun to better facilitate future trials," Ulquiorra continued crisply. "As well as..." He paused, the muscle in his jaw tensing almost imperceptibly. "...observations."

His penetrating emerald gaze snapped back to you then, holding you immobile in its intensity.

"Come," he commanded flatly. "You will accompany me beyond the threshold."

For a heartbeat, you simply stared at him, dumbfounded. Had he truly intended to...indulge your plaintive wishes from before? The very notion seemed utterly at odds with the hollow monster who had so thoroughly disavowed your "human needs."

Before you could fully process the surreal situation, Ulquiorra was suddenly there, closing the distance between you in a blurred flicker of movement. You flinched instinctively as his hand snaked out to fist in the tattered fabric of your shirt, jerking you forward with surprising gentleness until your faces were a bare hairsbreadth apart.

"Do not resign yourself to the role of stubborn mule, woman," he murmured, his breath ghosting warmly across your lips. "Accept this... concession with gratitude and silence."

Too stunned and disoriented to offer more than a mute nod, you found yourself helpless but to obey as Ulquiorra tugged you inexorably out of the cell and into the blinding brilliance of the false sun's light.

The warmth of the artificial sun caressed your face like a long-forgotten lover's embrace as you tilted your head back, allowing the revitalizing rays to bathe your upturned features. For the first time in what felt like an eternity, you could feel the insidious tendrils of despair and hopelessness loosening their stranglehold on your soul.

A few paces away, Ulquiorra stood sentinel – a silent, imposing figure swathed in shadow cast by the surrounding towers of Las Noches. Though his expression remained as inscrutable as ever, you could have sworn you detected the faintest furrow marring his marble brow as his gaze traced the path of the sunbeams glancing off your skin.

Slowly, you sank down onto the pale sands, relishing the sensation of solid ground beneath you that wasn't the unyielding chill of a cell floor. A contented sigh slipped past your lips as you leaned back on your palms, allowing the warmth to fully envelop you.

For long, languid moments, the only sounds were the soft whispers of the desert wind breathing life into this desolate realm and the occasional crunch of sand shifting beneath Ulquiorra's reverberating footfalls as he paced a slow, tight perimeter around your reclined form.

You weren't sure how much time had passed before your eyelids began to grow heavy, the bone-deep weariness accumulated from days of torment finally catching up to you. Stubbornly, you fought against the insistent lull of encroaching slumber, unwilling to relinquish your tenuous grasp on these precious moments bathed in natural light.

A fleeting shadow crossed your vision, and you cracked open one eye to find Ulquiorra looming over you, his imposing silhouette backlit in stark relief by the artificial sun's brilliance. For an endless breath, he simply stood there, studying you with that same unblinking, unreadable intensity.

Then, almost imperceptibly, his eyes narrowed – darkening to the deepest shades of jade as his penetrating stare seemed to bore straight through you with uncanny focus. You felt a slight flush heat your cheeks under the weight of his scrutiny, a puzzled frown tugging at your lips as you wondered at this sudden, overt appraisal.

If he registered your self-conscious reaction, Ulquiorra gave no outward indication. He simply continued to regard you with that same inscrutable, hungering manner – as if committing every plane and angle of your form to immutable memory.

Just as you felt your grasp on wakefulness beginning to slip away, a subtle flux rippled across Ulquiorra's smooth mask of indifference. His jaw tightened almost imperceptibly, nostrils flaring in a brief moment of uncharacteristic perturbation before his features smoothed out once more into that same serene, unreadable mien.

It was only then that he seemed to register your flagging consciousness. One pale hand lifted, almost unconsciously, extending towards you in a motion that had your breath catching in your throat. For a dizzying moment, you could have sworn he meant to reach out, to trace the contours of your features with those long, calloused digits...

But then the moment shattered, and Ulquiorra lowered his hand, his gaze snapping away as if suddenly remembering himself. With a crisp pivot, he turned and strode off without a single word, leaving you to the growing languor of fatigue and the nagging sense that a profound opportunity had somehow been lost.

When next you awoke, you noticed the silhouette of Ulquiorra's imposing form flickering into view above you, his pale features thrown into sharp relief by the rays of that false sun. You blinked up at him owlishly, struggling to piece together your muddled perceptions.

As if sensing your bewilderment, Ulquiorra spoke – his voice low and even despite the undercurrent of something decidedly...unplaceable thrumming beneath.

"You have been exposed to sufficient light for the time being," he stated in a tone that brooked no argument. "We are returning to your cell."

Before you could so much as sluggishly push yourself upright, Ulquiorra had crossed the remaining distance between you in a blur of terrifying speed and preternatural grace. One arm snaked around the small of your back while the other slipped beneath the crook of your knees, bodily lifting you from the sand with ease.

You sucked in a sharp breath at the unexpected contact, instinctively tensing against the hard planes of his chest. But Ulquiorra paid your rigid posture no heed, simply cradling you flush against his body as he began striding back towards Las Noches' looming spires.

For several weighted moments, the only sounds were the whisper of robes against sand, the measured cadence of Ulquiorra's even footfalls. You found yourself mesmerized by the stark beauty of his features cast in burnished hues of sunset topaz and smoldering saffron.

It was only when his gaze briefly flickered down to meet yours that the moment fractured, jarring you back to an awareness of the bizarre intimacy in which you currently found yourself entangled.

"Why..." you began, hating the tremulous edge that laced your words as Ulquiorra's unhurried strides carried you ever-nearer Las Noches' shadow-wreathed ramparts. "Why did you not simply wake me? Instead of..."

You trailed off uncertainly, unable to put words to the peculiar sense of disquiet unfurling within your breast. But Ulquiorra seemed to grasp your meaning, his gemlike regard boring into you with all the implacability of a vista carved from ancient stone.

"You required rest," he replied with an insouciant simplicity that somehow managed to belie the profundity of that simple statement. "To disturb you would have been...imprudent."

Despite the inflectionless monotone, you felt something unseen shiver between those words – a subliminal implication of motive left unspoken yet infinitely heavier than lead between you.

But ultimately, Ulquiorra seemed disinclined to expound further, and you lacked the will to press the matter. So you simply remained cradled against his chest, trying and failing to ignore the profound sense of belonging that threatened to consume you as Las Noches' stygian walls swallowed you both once more.

The agonized screams still echoed in your mind, reverberating through the hollow chambers of your mind with every rattling inhalation. Szayel's perverse enthusiasm as he'd pushed your negation abilities to their uttermost limits blended with the sickening scent of seared flesh and cauterized bone.

You weren't sure how long the Octava Espada's "trial" had lasted – a span of endless, unremitting torment where the only constant had been the searing lances of anguish searing through your neural pathways. All you knew was that when the blinding, white-hot haze of agony finally receded, it left you a trembling, hollowed-out husk upon the frigid metal slab.

Even now, you could only perceive the world around you in fragmented snapshots – the lurid pinkish blur of Szayel's retreating form, the grind of an aperture opening to admit another presence, the whisper of robes against the sterile tiles underfoot.

A solitary figure materialized in your wavering vision, tall and slender and utterly implacable in its stillness. The slight furrow of consternation marring the alabaster brow, the flicker of pale emerald eyes assessing every agonized tremor wracking your frame...

Ulquiorra.

You wanted to recoil from the scathing condemnation lurking in those viridian depths, the unspoken accusation of 'I warned you of this' blazing in his frigid regard. But you could summon neither the strength nor the will to offer even the barest syllable of protest.

As if sensing the very limits of your depleted state, Ulquiorra seemed to gather the tattered vestiges of his composure, those chiseled features settling once more into an impervious mask of indifference. Yet despite that, you could have sworn you detected the faintest undercurrent of... something churning behind those depthless jade pools.

Something like realization – a dawning epiphany that this, at last, was the breaking point against which your spirit would finally shatter.

When he spoke, it was with a weighted, implacable finality – the barest hint of cruel satisfaction underlying the chill monotone of his voice.

"You understand now, do you not?" The words seemed to flutter against the tattered ribbons of your consciousness like spectral moths. "How utterly futile all those cloying little 'human needs' truly are? Your desires for compassion, for hope..." A muscle ticked in his jaw. "For... light."

He seemed to savor those last few syllables, allowing the weight of their implication to fully resonate as he assessed you with a hunger that chilled you to your core. Your mouth worked wordlessly, lips parting on an impotent recitation of denial that was little more than a tremulous rasp of wasted air.

And suddenly, it was as if that infinitesimal push-back against his condemnation catalyzed some reaction in Ulquiorra. A tremor rippled across his features – there and gone again before you could decipher its precise nature. One moment the consummate embodiment of cold detachment, and the next...

You drew a shuddering gasp as his pallid hand unexpectedly materialized before your face, the very tips of those calloused fingers alighting against the swell of your cheek with ethereal delicacy. Before you could fully process the shock of his touch, Ulquiorra had extended his thumb, brushing away the stray tear-tracks that carved glistening rivulets down your hollow cheek.

It was too much – that singular, infinitely tender gesture amid the hellish torment. A broken whimper escaped your lips as you squeezed your eyes shut, unable to withstand the maelstrom of emotion that single feather-light caress had unleashed.

Just as quickly as the momentary lapse in Ulquiorra's composure had come, it dissipated, cast aside in favor of implacable resolve once more. You could hear the susurrus of his robes shifting as he straightened to his full height, sense the weight of his regard like a brand of purgatorial jade searing into the very core of your being.

"Cling to your human sentiments if you wish, woman," he stated, the venom in his voice almost palpable. "But know that they are the anchors which bind you to your inevitable suffering."

With those parting words echoing in the shell of your shattered consciousness, Ulquiorra turned on his heel and swept from the chamber, leaving you alone with the resonance of your own anguished sobs as counterpoint to the tolling bell of realization in your mind:

The truth was inescapable and absolute – the solace you so desperately craved, the light that had briefly warmed your dying ember of hope...

It was nothing more than a fleeting illusion. A pretty lie designed to placate you until Aizen's ends were finally achieved.

And in having that veil torn asunder, you were now cast adrift in the gnawing emptiness and isolation your captor had warned you of from the start.

Hollow.

Helpless.

Nothing.

The endless cycle of solitude and isolation had gradually sapped away any remaining vestiges of hope, of defiance within you. Day after day, trapped in the stifling confines of your cell with naught but the echoes of your own thoughts for company, you felt yourself growing numb – ossifying into the very personification of hollow nothingness Ulquiorra had warned you about.

So when the grind of the cell door echoed through the stillness that day, you barely registered it at first. Didn't even bother lifting your head from where it lolled limply against your shoulder. After the bone-deep torment of Szayel's "assessments," combined with the seemingly infinite stretch of abandonment that followed, very little could rouse you from the protective cocoon of apathy you'd spun.

Which was why you didn't so much as flinch when a rough hand suddenly fisted in the tattered fabric of your shirt, bodily hauling you aloft until your toes barely scraped the floor. It was only when a familiar, mocking baritone sneered in your ear that you slowly blinked your eyes open.

"Well, well... What do we have here?" Nnoitra's breath was hot and sour against the side of your face as he leered at you with undisguised malice. "The trash even Aizen didn't want in the end."

You stared at him without comprehension, too drained and hollow to even muster a reaction to his taunts. Something about your silent, empty-eyed appraisal must have rankled the towering Espada, for his sneer twisted into a contemptuous snarl.

"The mighty Lord Aizen is done with his little experiments on you, bitch," he hissed, giving your shirt a vicious shake that made your head loll bonelessly. "Which means you're fair game for the rest of us now. Let's see if we can't get a rise out of that dead gaze, hmm?"

"Nnoitra..."

The low, dangerous rasp of that familiar baritone cut through the charged tension like a scythe, sending an involuntary shiver lancing down your spine. You didn't need to look to know who had spoken – you could taste the scorching tang of Ulquiorra's spiritual pressure in the air, as potent and intoxicating as a raging inferno.

Slowly, almost lazily, Nnoitra turned his head, his mocking leer morphing into a rictus sneer as he regarded the Cuatro Espada framed in the threshold.

"Well, if it isn't Lord Aizen's favorite little bitch," he sneered, not even bothering to conceal the belligerent edge to his words. "Come to stake your claim on the trash?"

Ulquiorra's only response was a subtle dilation of his nostrils, a minute betrayal of the tightly leashed rage simmering beneath that placid veneer. When he spoke again, his tone was soft and even – yet somehow more dangerous for its eerie placidity.

"Release her," he intoned with quiet finality. "Now."

Nnoitra barked out a harsh guffaw, shaking his head in open defiance as he gave you another contemptuous shake. "And just why the hell would I listen to one of Aizen's dogs?"

His mocking grin widened as he dragged you closer, his free hand lancing out to fist in your hair and yank your head back in a painful arc. "Seeing as how Lord Aizen has clearly tired of his little pet project here..."

The world seemed to still in the wake of that bald provocation, the air itself holding its breath in anticipation of Ulquiorra's response. For a beat, the Cuatro Espada remained utterly motionless. Then, in a flicker of displaced air and static crackle, he had bridged the distance between you, one hand clamped around Nnoitra's wrist in an iron vise.

"You dare challenge me, insect?" The words were silk over serrated steel as Ulquiorra's gaze bored into Nnoitra with all the intensity of a dying star. "You, who are not even fit to lick the dust from Aizen-sama's boots?"

You could practically taste Nnoitra's fear as he faltered under that withering emerald glare, his grip instinctively slackening even as his mouth opened to bluster another retort. But Ulquiorra was having none of it. With a contemptuous flick of his wrist, he sent the other Espada staggering back, his crushing hold on your hair and shirt finally breaking.

You dropped like a broken marionette, crumpling in a disheveled heap upon the cold tiles. Even the harsh impact barely registered – merely more pain atop an existence of unremitting torment. Dimly, you were aware of Nnoitra's retreat, of Ulquiorra's imposing silhouette looming above you as he surveyed you with that same indecipherable intensity that had once roused such tumultuous emotion.

But now, in the wake of all you had endured, even the Cuatro Espada's piercing regard left you unmoved, as hollow and barren as the endless dunes of Hueco Mundo itself.

It was only when he crouched before you, his pallid features rendered all the more stark and otherworldly in the wan glow of your cell's lighting, that you saw the faintest flicker of...something pass behind those depthless jade pools.

Something almost like realization.

"So this is what has become of you," Ulquiorra murmured, and for the first time since you had known him, there was a perceptible undercurrent woven through those inflectionless tones – the barest tremor of something hovering on the precipice between disappointment and... something else, something you lacked the vitality to decipher.

As his eyes bored unblinkingly into yours, he was suddenly, viscerally reminded of that night when he’d watched over you with such utterly dispassionate scrutiny. Back when you had been vibrant and dancing with your feline companion without a care for the darkness lurking beyond the threshold.

That felt like another lifetime now – another existence entirely, separate and infinitely removed from the shattered, hollowed-out husk you had ultimately become. But for Ulquiorra, it was clearly an image seared into the immutable forge of his memory.

As the weight of that contrasting recollection seemed to reverberate in his mind, you saw the muscle tick once, almost imperceptibly in Ulquiorra's jaw. A hairline fracture marring that otherwise unshakable mask, betraying the stirrings of some deeply buried impetus within.

Then, just as quickly, the moment passed, and the Cuatro Espada rose fluidly to his feet once more, his expression hardening into its customary indifferent blankness.

"You will be relocated to alternative quarters," he stated in a tone that brooked no argument. "Away from the distractions and... interferences of others."

With that enigmatic pronouncement hanging like a death knell in the weighted silence, Ulquiorra turned on his heel and swept from your cell, leaving you to ponder the disturbing sense that something irrevocable had just shifted between you – a hairline fracture spreading slowly, inexorably outward as the facade began to crumble.

Another day crawled by in that same suffocating miasma of hollow emptiness. You remained where Ulquiorra had left you, crumpled in an unmoving heap upon the cold tiles - apathetic and unresponsive to the world around you.

The grind of the cell door opening should have roused you, if only minutely. But you didn't so much as twitch a muscle, simply staring ahead with that same dead, empty-eyed gaze that seemed to horrify and fascinate Ulquiorra in equal measure.

It was only when his measured footfalls reverberated against the stones, drawing nearer with that customary, predatory grace, that you became aware of something...different about his presence this time. A subtle shift in the atmosphere, as if the air itself had taken on a peculiar, almost warm vitality.

Finally, after what felt like an eon of weighted silence, Ulquiorra crouched before you, his pale features rendered all the more striking in the dim glow suffusing your new quarters. For a long moment, he simply studied you, those depthless emerald pools boring into you with an intensity that should have cowed you into submission.

But your defenses remained eroded to mere driftwood in the wake of your torment. You met his stare with all the hollowness of the realm around you, numb to even his most searing scrutiny.

Then, something shifted behind Ulquiorra's impervious mask - a fleeting micro-expression that creased the severe line of his brow and caused his nostrils to flare infinitesimally. Almost as if he were bracing himself for...

With a deft flick of his wrist, the Espada produced something from behind the billowing folds of his coattails, holding it forth in one proffered hand. At first, it was difficult to make out the form - just a small, bundled shape radiating warmth and familiar vitality that seemed almost luridly vibrant amid the muted grays and whites of Hueco Mundo.

But as realization dawned, a hairline fracture threaded its way through the impenetrable fortress of your apathy, leaving you staring at Ulquiorra and the small bundle of ginger fur held protectively in his grasp.

It was your cat - the feline companion you had so cherished and danced with on that fateful night before Ulquiorra's arrival tore your world asunder. Somehow, seemingly against all odds, the little furball had found its way to the desolate realm of Hueco Mundo.

And in that moment, something within you stirred to wakefulness with an almost painful intensity.

You drew in a sharp, juddering breath, lips parting in utter incomprehension as your eyes bored into Ulquiorra with desperate, fervent disbelief. Up close, you could see the measured rise and fall of the Espada's chest, the slight sheen of exertion beading across his alabaster brow as his burning regard remained locked with yours.

No words were exchanged in that fragile, crystalline stillness that stretched between you. But then, before your tattered, hollow consciousness could fully process this jarring intrusion of life amidst the bleakness, you were moving - raw instinct taking over as you shakily pushed yourself up onto your knees and reached out with trembling hands.

Ulquiorra remained utterly motionless as you bridged the scant distance between you, your fingers curling into the thick pelt of your pet's familiar form. You could feel the steady beat of its tiny heart quickening ever so slightly at your touch, sense the curious flick of its sandpaper tongue against your fingertips.

It should have been a moment of fleeting solace, of tentative hope rekindled in the wake of your despair. But as that first frisson of warmth blossomed in your hollow chest, something else took root alongside it - something desperate and primal and hopelessly, recklessly human.

A choked sound hitched in the back of your throat as you all but threw yourself forward, arms encircling Ulquiorra's lanky form as your face buried into the hollow of his throat with bone-crushing intensity. You distantly registered the way his body locked up, every tendon and sinew going rigid in the wake of your impulsive embrace - but you couldn't muster even a scintilla of shame or contrition.

Instead, you simply poured every ounce of anguished gratitude, fervid disbelief, and unspoken yearning into that singular gesture. A strangled sob escaped your lips as your fingers dug into the unyielding musculature of Ulquiorra's back, clinging to him as if he were the only lifeline in a vast, unforgiving sea.

For an eternity suspended between heartbeats, the two of you remained like statues locked in that bizarrely intimate clinch. Then, with the barest perceptible tremor, you felt the rigidity in Ulquiorra's frame begin to incrementally subside as he simply...allowed the encirclement of your arms.

Still, he made no move to reciprocate or dislodge you. He was simply there - a marble monolith enduring the roiling tides of your naked desperation as they broke over him like dolorous waves. And you lost yourself in the rhythm of his steadfast presence, of the solidity of his form pressed flush against you.

Only when the first mewling mewls issued from the bundled fur nestled between your bodies did you finally rouse yourself, drawing back with a tremulous breath. You were gratified to find the barest hint of bewildered consternation flickering in Ulquiorra's gaze as you met it - a fleeting deviation from his usually implacable composure.

But before you could open your mouth, before you could hope to encapsulate the depths of feeling roiling within you in mere words, Ulquiorra's slender fingers ghosted against the nape of your neck, effectively muting any utterance on your lips.

The infinitesimal contact made you shudder - a full-body tremor ripping through your still-shaking frame. And as the Cuatro Espada held your gaze with all the weight of a lodestone, you found yourself hopelessly, inescapably transfixed - suspended between damnation and deliverance, with no compass to guide you.

Then, with a twitch of those long digits and the barest whisper of displaced air, Ulquiorra was simply...gone. Leaving you bereft and swaying on your knees, the ginger feline nestled in the hollow between your arms the only evidence that anything had transpired beyond another fleeting mirage in the maddening wasteland of Las Noches.

#bleach x reader #bleach #bleach smut #bleach x reader smut #bleach x you #ulquiorra cifer #ulquiorra smut #ulquiorra x reader smut #ulquiorra x reader

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puffcap-factory · 6 months

Text

When Carpool Jams Gone Awry (Heartsteel Kayn x reader)

Heartsteel!Kayn x gn!reader; fluff, pure fluff, crack.

After Ezreal witnessed the certain incident between you and Kayn in the past week, he decided to put matters in his own hands as a wingman and set you two on a quick car trip for just the two of you. I suggest reading the first one first for more context though, but it's completely up to you :)

Words: 2.4k

Notes: Idk why but heartsteel fics smh made me focus on the crack instead of the romance (oops). There’s 3 song references that I used for the fic btw. Oh, and I might try some spicier ones with Kayn though, he has so much potential. Anyways, enjoy the story! :D

•~•~•~•

The passenger seat became a silent observer to the awkwardness between you and Kayn as he settled into the driver's seat. You could practically feel the tension seeping into the air as you clicked on your seatbelt.

It wasn’t like this for the past few days, you thought. But why do you suddenly feel awkward now?

"So… it’s not the usual spot down the street then?" you asked, breaking the uncomfortable quietness.

"Nah, Ezreal mixed things up and ordered from somewhere else," Kayn replied with a grunt. “That prick…” he muttered under his breath, almost too quiet for you to catch. You noticed him setting the GPS of the car for about a 20-minute drive from your place.

Sensing the need to ease the tension, you reached over and turned on the radio, letting the music fill the car. You couldn't help but wonder how you had ended up in this situation.

•~•~•~•

It had been almost a week since that certain incident, yet neither you nor Kayn had mentioned anything about the guitar lesson or the fall. The week had also flown by with various schedules, leaving little time for just the two of you.

Kayn, although you knew that he had been acting like everything’s cool, couldn't hide the subtle changes in his behavior. You could tell by the way he would avoid prolonged eye contact when you talked to him, or felt his gaze when he occasionally stole quick glances at you when you weren’t looking. However, the interactions you had throughout the week with him were never personal; there weren’t many opportunities in the first place.

But tonight, it was Friday night, and the group had planned a barbecue on the rooftop of the dorm's apartment building. Everyone had pitched in to prepare, setting up grills and tables for a fun evening.

As the party kicked off and laughter filled the air, it was around 8 pm when you excused yourself to head back to your room for a bathroom break. On the stairs, you ran into Ezreal, who seemed a bit frantic.

"Hey, y/n! Perfect timing, I need your help," Ezreal said, rushing up the stairs.

"What's up, Ez?"

“So, I ordered these desserts for us,” he paused as he showed you his phone with the orders displayed. “But I accidentally selected ‘pick up’ instead of ‘delivery’! Can you come with me to grab them, pleaaase?”

"Oh, sure, no problem," you replied casually. It seemed like a simple errand, nothing more. "I'll head to my room first, then meet you in the parking lot, okay?" you added.

“You’re the best!” Ezreal exclaimed, visibly relieved. “Take your time and I’ll be waiting downstairs then!” He headed back towards the rooftop eagerly, leaving you to make your way to your room.

You smiled at his reaction, and brushed off the thought of why he had seemed somewhat agitated for a mere errand, as you headed to the bathroom in your room.

After a moment, you finally made your way down to the basement level, ready to accompany Ezreal for the dessert pick-up. As you stepped out of the glass door of the parking lot, you spotted Kayn standing near the group’s SUV. He was looking at his phone, one hand in his pocket, seemingly to be waiting for you. He looked up as you approached, quickly pocketing his phone.

“Let’s go,” he said flatly, waiting for you to join him.

“Wait, you’re the one who’s gonna pick up the ice cream?” You quipped as you went up to him.

“Yeah, Ezreal claimed he had some ‘urgent tasks’ to handle,” he rolled his eyes, clearly not buying what Ezreal said.

“Oh well…” you paused, starting to understand why he had seemed unusually excited. “Let’s go then.”

•~•~•~•

And that was how it went. It was clear to you that Ezreal had set up a sneaky scheme for you two. Although you certainly wouldn’t object to spend alone time together with Kayn, you had to admit it was a bit sudden. However, the lack of conversation was starting to bother you more than usual, somehow.

“I got to play a bit further into the song, you know?” you finally began.

“Oh? So, I assume your guitar lessons are going smoothly, hm?” Kayn asked, a small smirk tugging at his lips as he turned his head slightly towards you before facing back to the road.

“Of course,” you smiled to yourself, feeling a bit proud. “I’ve been practicing a bit before bed.”

“Show me later then,” he challenged with a smirk.

“Alright.”

Silence.

Okay, you’re not going to mention the fall, at least not yet. It seemed neither of you wanted to broach that topic. You were racking your brain for another conversation starter when a familiar song started playing in the background.

You couldn't resist vibing with the music, its lively tempo lifting the mood in the car as you started singing. Kayn was clearly enjoying the beat too, nodding along and joining you in singing. It quickly turned into a car karaoke jam.

“Bang bang into the room, I know you want it

Bang bang all over you, I’ll let you have it “

Oh.

“Back, back seat of my car, I’ll let you have it

Wait a minute let me take you there, ah”

You pretended not to notice anything unusual and kept on singing, letting the beat carry you away. Why were you suddenly realizing the lyrics that didn’t bother you before? Kayn didn’t seem bothered either, at least not now, as he continued singing along. It was almost as if the music had created a little bubble of ease between the two of you, momentarily pushing aside any lingering tension.

The next song, however, shattered that bubble.

Kayn’s voice grew smaller and smaller as the lyrics seemed to get into his head.

“You like it wet and so do I…

…I know you never waste a drip”

You noticed his voice trailing off, but you pressed on, determined not to let the tension settle back in the air. Masking every awkwardness with your solo karaoke session, you threw yourself into the song, trying not to care about the awkward atmosphere.

Oh god, how much longer does this drive take.

You silently prayed for the next song to be less suggestive. Unfortunately, the radio playlist seemed to have other plans.

As soon as the next song played, Kayn went completely still beside you, his face straight, expressionless. The tension between you two became almost suffocating, thick in the air like a heavy fog.

“Push me up against the wall, don’t take it easy…

You like it hard like me, it’s what you need.”

You felt like jumping out of the car to escape the tension that filled the space. It was as if the song had suddenly laid bare all the unspoken tension between you and Kayn. He remained unresponsive as his gaze fixed straight ahead, and you could sense his uneasiness.

“Let’s get naked and explore our inner secrets…”

The words hung in the air, heavy and charged with meaning. Why was this song playing now of all times? You struggled to maintain your composure, but the blush creeping up your cheeks betrayed your cool. It was clear that the mood had shifted, and your confidence to continue singing wavered as your voice grew smaller and smaller.

Even though the lyrics were etched into your mind, you tried to salvage the situation by nodding along with the beat. Neither of you dared to reach for the radio to change the song, as if both of you were in denial that the lyrics had stirred something between you two. The car was becoming like a pressure cooker, the tension almost tangible between you and him.

Summoning your courage, you stole a glance at Kayn, whose gaze remained fixed straight ahead, visibly tense. His jaw was clenched, and you couldn't help but admire the view for a moment, before realizing you had stared for too long. He caught your gaze as he glanced to the side briefly.

“What?” he finally said, breaking the silence.

“O-oh, nothing,” you stammered, quickly glancing back to the front, a blush creeping up on your cheeks. “Is the shop still far?”

“No, it’s right there,” he motioned with his head, and you could see the small light panel displaying the logo of the fast food chain store.

Kayn then parked at the open lot, and you both stepped out from the car. Finally, a breath of fresh air, the one that you desperately needed.

“Wait here, I’ll grab it quick,” Kayn said, taking the lead.

“I think I’ll borrow the bathroom,” you said with an awkward smile. He nodded in acknowledgment as he headed into the shop counter.

You made a straight dash for the bathroom, taking a moment to collect yourself and plan how to handle the rest of the drive back with him. You were sure you wouldn’t survive that same kind of tension again.

•~•~•~•

Meanwhile, Kayn, who had taken the orders, waited in the car. He knew he had been hiding his blush during the whole ride, not expecting the tension to be that intense. He sighed, running a hand through his hair as he tried to clear his head. His mind was busy replaying the events that had led to this awkward situation.

“Kayn – aw, come on, I swear it’s a quick drive!” Ezreal pleaded, holding out the car keys.

“Ugh, if it’s a quick drive then why are you asking me?” Kayn groaned in response.

“Because… because…” Ezreal trailed off.

“Hey, I’ll drive. I don’t mind,” K’sante offered from the side.

“Oh… um,” Ezreal answered reluctantly, glancing at Kayn for a bit before a playful grin appeared on his face. “Alright then, y/n will be waiting down at the carpark,” Ezreal grinned mischievously as he handed the keys to K’sante.

Before K’sante could take them, Kayn snatched the keys from Ezreal’s hands.

“Fine. I’ll go.”

Kayn rubbed his forehead, realizing all too well that they had set this up for him. He did want to spend more time with you, but the unexpected set of songs playing on the radio had interrupted his more peaceful set of plans. He then turned on the radio, just to check what song was playing, but immediately turned it off as he heard another set of suggestive lyrics in it.

Nope, not again.

He sighed in attempt to ease his own tension, feeling it did not work, he went out from the car. He took a deep breath as he contemplated on what he should do for the rest of the drive as he held his one arm on the car to support his weight, as his head now facing down to the ground.

“Damn it…” he grumbled, his face reddening the more he thought about you.

Meanwhile, you had decided to buy a cone of vanilla ice cream after making up your mind in the bathroom. You figured some sweet treat might help salvage the time.

Just for another 20 minutes, you can do it, y/n.

Taking a deep breath and exhaling, you attempted to calm yourself before heading out of the store. As you made your way to the car, you found Kayn sitting at the metal bars near the parked car, seemingly lost in thought as he faced the other way.

“Uh… sorry to keep you waiting, Kayn,” you said softly, approaching him with your ice cream in hand. Kayn glanced at you briefly but didn't fully turn, still deep in his thoughts. Sensing he wanted to say something, you took a seat next to him on the metal bars, quietly enjoying your ice cream.

“Hey,” he finally called out, his face still turned away.

“Y- yes?” You were somewhat startled by his sudden tense demeanor, but you waited for him to continue. The sudden tension made your heart begin to beat faster.

He cursed under his breath, rubbing his face with his palm as if trying to shake off his uneasiness. Then, in a mumble, he said, “I’ll just ask this straight.”

“…Are you seeing someone?” His face still away from you, his voice tense.

“No…” you replied softly, a bit taken aback by the question.

He let out an exhale, rubbing the back of his neck as his face started to redden. “Do you… want to go out… with me?” His voice trailed off, barely audible.

Glancing at him, you noticed his face turned away, his ears tinged with pink. A smile crept onto your face.

Without hesitation, you softly placed your hand on his, which was resting on the metal bars.

He immediately turned to face you, his pinkish face now fully visible as you beamed a smile at him. Nodding happily, you conveyed your answer without words. You didn’t care anymore if your face turned as red as a tomato; seeing your reaction, Kayn's bashfulness immediately changed into a cocky smirk.

"Heh," he chuckled, his smirk widening although his blush was still present. "Looks like it’s not that hard to ask you out."

“Huh, what do you mean by that?” you teased, squeezing the hand which held his.

“Argh, your hand is all sticky!” he exclaimed, standing up and trying to shake off the melted ice cream.

“Kayn!” you laughed, feeling the tension dissipate as you both made your way towards the car door, ready to head back. It felt like a weight had been lifted off your hearts.

You settled in the car seat when Kayn suddenly leaned closer from his seat. With a mischievous glint in his eyes, his fingers hovered near your nose.

“What?” you asked, trying to keep a straight face.

He grinned, his fingers lightly touching the ice cream stain on your nose. “You’re so sloppy,” he teased, before playfully sucking the melted ice cream off his fingers.

You couldn’t help but blush furiously, feeling the heat rush to your cheeks as he chuckled. Kayn's demeanor had definitely lightened up, but the car ride back home was a relentless onslaught of teasing directed at you. With or without music, his remarks kept you on edge, and though you wouldn’t admit it, deep down you were secretly enjoying it.

Was 20 minutes this short?

•~•~•~•

Meanwhile, back in the dorm, K’sante glanced at his wristwatch, a bemused expression on his face. "Aren’t they kinda late?" he asked, turning to Ezreal.

Ezreal simply grinned, a twinkle of mischief in his eyes. "Let them be," he replied with a knowing smile. "They'll be back with stories, I'm sure."

#heartsteel x reader #kayn x reader #heartsteel kayn #kayn heartsteel #kayn x gn reader #league of legends x reader #league of legends #league of legends fanfic #lol x reader #heartsteel fluff #heartsteel

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ravenflorals · 2 months

Text

forever , and ever

rating: explicit

word count : 2671 words

Pairing: hermione granger / draco malfoy , mentioned Pansy/Neville, Theo / Ron, Ginny / Harry, and Blaise / Luna

authors note: The Wheel has assigned the following; Secret Marriage, based on a song, body worship, Malfoy Manor, and pregnancy, for the "based on a song" I chose the song "Lover" by Miss Swift. I typically don’t write secret marriage fics, because I haven’t been able to work out the basics. Yet, I think I managed to work this out enough to be enjoyable to read.

warnings: this fic is semi smutty. it isn't as bad as what I usually write but it does have those themes. Don't read if you're underage. Another warning over mentioned body shaming. Its not severe, but its there

In the corner of the library sits a photo on a shelf. Taken on a muggle camera loaned to them by Arthur Weasley. In the frame, a bride dressed in a simple white lace sundress, looking at the love of her life who wore a white button-up and green tie with his standard black slacks. It was a domestic photo, but one that changed whenever guests came by. One that hid its true form as Hermione would do whenever friends of his mother’s would stop by.

The wedding bands they wore on their hands were simple, little black diamonds that engraved hers. A DM is carved into the underside. On his the same black diamonds in a masculine sense. HM engraved into his. They were simple enough to illusion, making them look like any standard ring. But she still wore hers around her neck while at work. Carrying it as close to her chest as possible.

Whenever she got that familiar guilty feeling in her chest. She’d be reminded we agreed together. They agreed they needed time to themselves. To go through the honeymoon stage before they came clean. It should have been easy enough to come clean when it was time. A simple advertisement in the paper says just married. A postcard sent to all their former friends and let them spread the word. Yet none of it seemed right.

Their marriage had been a secret since it happened two years prior. They’d decided on the secrecy aspect, other than letting in a few friends. Narcissa, Pansy, and Neville had been their witnesses, and Ron and Theo had helped make sure nothing got to the press by acting even more brash in their behavior than usual. Luna and Theo had announced their courtship. Harry and Ginny decided to conveniently announce their pregnancy on the day it happened. All eyes were anywhere but on them. They’d had a quiet ceremony, binding their magic together that night. Hermione pressed against deep green satin sheets as he trapped her frame under his much larger one. Elbows planted on both sides of her.

“You’re my wife.” He had said. Between each word pressing a kiss to her lips.

Breathless, she nodded. “I’m your wife. I'm yours. Just as you are mine.” She’d say, letting her hands rest against the side of his face. They’d had sex plenty of times prior, in every position they could find. But this time, this was making love. True love that now would bind their magic together.

After a short honeymoon by the lakes in Ireland, they’d come back to the manor. Ready to take on the world. The last two years had been pleasant. Of course, they’d shared their fair share of arguments. But just as they’d promised in their vows, they didn’t go to bed angry. They talked, they made up, and they made each other feel good. His hands would trace her frame as her lips would place delicate kisses across his scars. Each one had a story behind them, and she didn’t like that it had happened to him. But she loved the man it had made him. With dark stormy eyes that roared whenever she called him her beautiful boy. There were the nights she’d trace her fingers around his cock, playing with the head and the precum that leaked. Patiently waiting for Hermione’s attention to be drawn to it.

Every so often new rumors came up on who “the Golden Girl” was dating. Her romantic life, well the lack of it had made the papers. Skeeter called her a spinster and said she didn’t think anyone was coming home with her. It would be a fair judgment if Hermione knew for a fact she not only had someone in her bed. But someone who gave her a million reasons to stay in that bed when the morning came. Whenever her nose would scrunch in distaste at the articles while she sat in the manor’s library reading. He would come in from work, approaching her. Stalking towards her like a lion would to its prey.

Except, she wasn’t his prey. She was more like a rabbit waiting for the day the snake got tired of waiting for another source of food. Swallowing her whole. She was the lamb waiting for its executioner to come out of the barn and find her stalled. But she would trust him through it all. Because she trusted him fully. “All you need to do is ask. And I’ll fucking kill her.” Draco says, taking the newspaper out of her hands and sitting down next to her. He pulls her legs to crossover into his lap. “What is the horrible wench saying about you this time?” he asks, rubbing circles into her feet.

Shrugging, she looked over to him. Her eyes fixated on him “It doesn’t matter what she said about me. I’m used to being the butt of their jokes.” she sadly admits, this had been something she knew would happen when she stepped into her place in the world. Working at the ministry to make sure muggleborn students got the right opportunities. Giving them the resources she had lacked. Proper education on the wizarding world and what the world expected from them. The article wasn’t on her sex life today, in fact, this one had said no one had wanted her because of her apparent weight gain.

“Just because you’re used to it. That doesn’t mean it’s okay.” His tone sounds disappointed. Not in her, never in her. But in the mere fact, she was silently letting this happen. He had seen how much it took from her to be more than what had been presented, that she was no longer the eighteen-year-old war heroine. Now a loving wife, and the hardest worker the ministry had ever seen. She was more than any of those cynical fools with their sharp words could see.

He had his fair share of bad media press. Not like hers where she was being painted one way, but painting him another. A coward still living through his fears. Still followed his father’s reputation even if it hadn’t been who he wanted to be since he had been sixteen. The spinster and the coward, that’s what they’d been painted as. It was a parallel to the queen and her loyal bishop. Always following a few steps behind her. Their image on the outside was as simple as this, in public she was the minister of education, and he was her bodyguard. Making sure she got to events, okay, ensuring she got home safely. At Galas instead of making sure she didn’t go home with someone bad. He made sure she was satisfied coming home with him. In a few instances pulling her into a coat room, tugging the dress she wore to the side, and taking her there. Ensuring no one would catch them in these situations. His hands cupped her ass as he rutted into her.

After he took her home, pulling the dress completely off her frame before laying back against the bed. “Let me see you.” he’d murmur, looking up at her like a man drunk on love as he propped himself up onto his elbow. While she loved it when he took control, she knew he came completely undone when she took the lead. Unbuttoning his shirt, kissing his neck as he slid his pants and boxers off. “Ride me.” he’d say, eyes lust-filled and burning into her. Hermione knew the sounds he made like she knew a favorite song. Knew how to turn things to make him even more smitten for her.

They’d both orgasmed harder than they ever had that night. Hermione’s legs hurt like hell that night, she was also thankful for the silencing spells he’d placed around their bed. Not wanting his mother to hear what they’d been up to. They’d had their fair share as a married couple in regards to the matriarch. But that was a story for another time.

If someone thought she was crazy for him, they should have seen how he was for her. While he was loyal, he also had a wicked possessive streak. Always leaving her with marks she had to cover the next morning. And she’d do equal damage. Scratching down his back and leaving indents with her nails. They were crazy over one another. Something that existed while they were simply dating, continued during their engagement and even now as they were married.

“You know I know how we could shut Skeeter up,” Hermione said, leaning back against the green sofa. Looking up at her husband as his hands moved up her ankles, continuing their pattern of massaging her legs.

He hums, interested in what she has to say. “Do share. I’m all for her learning a lesson on silence.” If it were up to him, she would no longer have a tongue. If it were up to her, the woman would be locked in a snow globe. With one of them occasionally shaking her.

“We could come clean about our marriage,” she tells him. Eyes twinkling with mischief. “Deal with the backlash together just as we said we would when we married.”

Eyes moving up, he settles his glance on her. “Well we said we would sooner or later,” he doesn’t seem as panicked as she had been expecting from him. “You wanted to wait till we had to think about bringing a kid into the pic…Hermione.” he stopped. Eyeing her carefully, his administration to her legs had stopped. “Is there something you haven’t told me?” he asked. Turning his body so he’s facing her entirely.

Reaching over, to entwine his fingers with hers. She moves his hand to her abdomen. Letting it rest there. He wouldn’t be able to feel anything yet, but she wanted him to know she was telling the truth. “We made life. I’m pregnant,” she says to him. Waiting for his reaction. They’d discussed having a kid since their marriage began. Even before then. But then they had just seemed like kids growing up after a war. After three years of dating to get to know one another, and they still didn’t know everything about one another. Now they knew everything they could know. She knew his favorite books, and his hiding spots in the manor when he was a child. And he knew her favorite snacks and how to calm her down after a bad day. They’d seen the good, the bad, and the beautiful in one another. And now they were bringing someone new into this life.

“I’m going to be a dad?” he asks. Mouth agape. It was still evident he was processing this. When Hermione herself had figured out it was in Pansy’s bathroom after a ministry yule event, swearing the seafood hadn’t made her sick the previous year. Neville distracted Draco asking him ‘advice for how to propose’ and Hermione dragged Pansy into the bathroom with suspicion about her state.

After three minutes of staring at the bathroom counter. Those two lines appeared, and Hermione learned that she was carrying Draco’s child. After panicking herself, Pansy had calmed her frenzied spirit. “He’ll be ecstatic. You’re all he talks about.” The darker-haired woman had said. Hermione knew this much was true. Even in their Hogwarts days, she’d learned he had a fascination with her. She must have been as blind as Harry was without his glasses to not have seen it.

But now that they were married. Had that fascination remained? Or now that he’d gotten his fill would he move on? She doesn’t truly know what she had been expecting his reaction to be. Shocked, yes. But she hadn’t expected him to tug her into his lap with a crushing hug. Holding tightly to her, Hermione feels her frame collide with his. Looking into his eyes, she sees those familiar storms. The ones she saw every time she moved across the room. Lightning struck with every move she made. “And you’re okay with this?” she questions, eyes bright as she stares at him. They’d promised forever, was this something that would push that away? If he wasn’t ready to be a dad. If he didn’t want kids after all.

“Okay? Are you mad? Knowing that not only the world will know about us. But know that a piece of me is planted in you… that a piece of us is being brought into the world. I’m more than okay with this.” he says, pressing his lips to hers, softly and tenderly at first. “I hope Skeeter knows after this that not only does someone want you. But that you’re wanted enough that they marked you. Because I did mark you.” he murmurs against her lips. That possessive streak she knew so well made a highly obvious appearance. Their lips collided once again in a deep, almost bruising kiss as he took her bottom lip in between his teeth.

Something about the way he acted especially in moments leading up to their more passionate times had made her feral. She was wet, completely aroused. At this point, if she stood up, she was sure it would soak between her sleep shorts and knickers. At least she knew the horny and hot feelings weren’t hers alone ———

Below her Hermione could feel his cock hardening, he was turned on. Desperately so. Grinding against him, Hermione chuckled at the gasp that escaped his parted lips. Leaving room for her tongue to slide between his lips. Wrestling with his tongue for dominance over the situation. They continue, with Hermione anticipating that her lips would be bruised in no time if they continued. The idea of Skeeter’s first image of them including them both looking thoroughly shagged just somehow turned her on more, Draco’s hips rocking against hers.

Pulling his lips away from hers, Draco looks frenzied as he stares at her. Lips puffy and eyes glazed. “Granger if you don’t stop I’m going to come undone.” he rasps out, sounding just as desperate as she feels right at this moment. He held down onto her hips, trying to keep her on him.

Trailing his cheek and neck with her nose and lips she smiles against the skin. “I haven’t been Granger in two years. I thought you, of all people would know that." She knows she sounds cocky. But it was true. He hadn’t used her maiden name in years, and now that it came out of him, she wanted to remind him just who he married. Wiggling her hips down, ass hitting right against the bulge in his pants she eyes him innocently. Stopping after a moment just to see how quickly she could get him riled up.

“Sorry,” he clears his throat, feeling her lift herself slightly off his lap. “Oh no you little tease. I want you to feel what you’re doing to me, Malfoy.” he corrected the surname. And her innocent eyes grew as she grinds against him. “Take what you want,” he begs, and she thinks her husband sounds so pretty when he lets his needy side show. But she isn’t done playing with him quite yet.

“If you want something Malfoy,” she hotly breathes out against his ear. “I recommend you take it from me,” she smirked, seeing the way he swallowed harshly. They’re looking eye to eye now. And she can anticipate what would happen next. If she wasn’t pregnant now, at the end of this night she definitely would be.

Pulling her off of him, he stands. Not bothering to cover his erection-strained trousers. Throwing her over his shoulder just as he’d done on their wedding night. Instead of a white dress perfect for a bride, she wore a pair of flannel pajama shorts and his old Quidditch sweater. She watched the floor as he went through the library door, and down the halls of the manor. He throws open the door of their master bedroom, and he gently throws her down on the mattress.

Checkmate. She truly couldn’t lose.

#dramione #draco x hermione #hermione x draco #jackie writes dramione #dhr #apples from jax #my writing #dhr fanfiction #dhr fandom

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shakespearean-snape · 1 year

Note

I’m rereading OOTP right now and I find that scene between Severus and Sirius in the kitchen to be highly relevant in the context of Severus as a feminine-coded character (and Sirius as a representation of toxic masculinity). Sirius is very outwardly aggressive in this scene in a conventionally masculine way, while Severus weaponizes his sarcasm and wit in a way that could be thought of as a more “feminine” form of defence. While Harry describes Sirius’s voice as getting progressively louder and angrier, he describes Severus’s voice as “soft” in contrast (as he usually does, which is also interesting in the context of Severus as a feminine man/GNC character). Sirius gets up and tries to intimidate Severus physically, and Severus grips his wand inside his pocket in a way that reminded me of a victim of domestic violence preparing to defend herself against her abuser.

I’m not sure how much of this was intentional considering how rigid JKR’s views on gender have unfortunately turned out to be, but I can’t help but read Severus as a feminine character, especially since he’s meant to act as a stand in for Lily in the same way as Sirius acts as a stand in for James. It’s very easy to read Sev as gender non conforming and/or LGBTQ, although given JKR’s own views it’s doubtful she meant for us to read him that way (but fuck her, she’s a massive transphobe, the characters are ours now, we can do what we like with them).

Note to self, start checking your inbox regularly. These changes to Tumblr are killing me because the notifications when I get messages or asks are hit-or-miss at best.

Anyways, this is such a great observation! I'm only just learning about coding and that that is even the term for it from reading about it from other Snape bloggers like @idealistic-realism00, @raptured-night, and @professormcguire since I only took the required English courses both my undergraduate years and beyond that my major was in sociology.

So, I'm not really any kind of expert but I do have a lot of personal experience from being biracial and queer myself just with learning to read between the lines and find representation for myself where I can and I think that is the case for a lot of people from less represented, marginalized backgrounds. We have a certain instinct for these things so even without any kind of formal study we sort of know the "codes" (for better or worse depending on what the author's intent is and if it's a negative dog-whistle or something more positive to get around censorships of the time) if that makes any kind of sense.

For me, I always saw Sirius and Snape as two sides of a coin. There were some very obvious parallels and contrasts between them and this really goes to that in a lot of ways for me. Both Sirius and Snape are two men who made pivotal choices in their youths that very much define them and have led to a great deal of internalized guilt and impacted their behaviors as adults. Both Sirius and Snape find themselves confined to their childhood homes at different points, Sirius at Grimmauld Place with Kreacher and Snape at Spinner's End with Peter Pettigrew (both Kreacher and Peter are characters that also are known for betraying Harry and costing him someone he loves at different points and making a turn around in regards to Harry because of kindness or mercy he showed to them).

Where Sirius made the choice to make Peter the Secret Keeper with only James, Lily, and Peter knowing and it ultimately led to the death of the Potters and him being sentenced to twelve years in Azkaban, Snape also unwittingly delivered part of the fated prophecy that led to Voldemort targeting the Potters. Most interesting for me is that Snape's friendship with Lily and Sirius's friendship with James could be read as either platonic or a case of unrequited romantic feelings. There is the observation in SWM made by Harry that while Sirius was clearly a looker who attracted the attention of girls, his attention was fully on James and not on those admiring glances. So, when looking at Sirius's relationship with James through a comparative lens to Snape's with Lily they could be platonic friends or both Sirius and Snape could have had romantic feelings for their best friends while, ironically enough, Sirius had to watch James fall for and succeed in winning over Lily just as Snape had to do the same.

In the case of Snape and Sirius there is also a degree of regression and arrested development stemming from trauma (and both men at different points make the clear mistake of seeing Harry as a stand-in for James as a result of said trauma). Where Sirius spent twelve years in Azkaban able to hold onto his sanity against the Dementors in part because he knew he was innocent and the truth of what happened was a deeply unhappy thing for him, Snape spent decades in Dumbledore's service at Hogwarts (a place with its own unhappy associations for him having found it was not a refuge from life at Spinner's End with Tobias as he had hoped but another place where he would be bullied relentlessly, overlooked by his Head of House and housemates for being a poor half-blood with no status, subject to institutional failures resulting from yet more adult authority figures in his life not protecting him, groomed by Voldemort's followers and responsible for alienating his closest friend as a result) teaching children when clearly he does not have the temperament and, courtesy of his role as a spy, concealing his own truths and intentionally not allowing people to know the best of him. In a sense, both men had a negative public image that ran counter to the full truth about them and both of them died without being able to see those misconceptions vindicated (Sirius died still presumed by the Ministry and general public to have been the traitor who turned his friends over to Voldemort and murdered innocent people and Snape died knowing he had delivered information to Harry that would lead to his death and unsure of the outcome of the war with everyone thinking him a coward and murderer).

There's just, a LOT of parallels there between the two when you start to unpack them as characters. Even the fact that they both came from domestic dysfunction and unhappy home lives. It makes their mutual antagonism all the more of a tragedy because if not for Sirius's prejudice (which is arguably more understandable given his family and their long tradition of being sorted into Slytherin) against Slytherins and antagonism of young Snape on the train and the years of bullying and bad blood that followed, these two men had the most potential to understand each other. Alas, they do not, but it is their likenesses that makes their differences in how they clash all the more interesting because, as you noted, there are stark differences there. Sirius is all overt masculine energy; hot-headed and physically imposing while Snape is more strained, the ice to his fire.

Most striking to me was always the difference in how little respect Sirius showed to Snape's body while he was unconscious (further demonstrating how little Sirius has changed from the teenage boy who once stood with James and exposed Snape to laughing schoolmates) versus how Snape conjured a stretcher while still under the impression he was the one responsible for betraying the Potters (and the death of Lily). In that way, we get to see how Snape has developed as a person away from his past choices and learned from them. He may still regress, as he does quite plainly when forced to return to the Shrieking Shack and is confronted by Sirius and Remus there, but he isn't quite in the full state of arrested development as Sirius (but given his circumstances in Azkaban that isn't entirely surprising either; there is a tragedy to Sirius's character for all that there is as much of a darkness as there was in Snape during his time as a Death Eater and the fact so many Marauder apologists who double as "Snaters" refuse to acknowledge that outside of romanticizing the angst of it all while vilifying Snape is quite possibly an even greater tragedy, imo) which is why Sirius's death came in part due to his inability to move beyond his past and find it within himself to treat Kreacher with a modicum of understanding or empathy (in addition to his desire to be part of the action again and recapture his lost youth when it was him and James in the Order together) while Snape's death came only after he had to reconcile with the fact his original raison d'être for becoming a spy (to protect Harry for Lily as penance) ran counter to what was needed to defeat Voldemort for good and he still chose to stay the course instead of pursue his own agenda and act on his own self-interests.

In short, Sirius's death was partly due to the fact he couldn't move beyond the past. While Snape's death came as a result of the fact he had grown enough as a character to set aside his past motivations and see things through because he had become someone who conjured stretchers even for hated enemies and risked his life to save all those who he could save (including Sirius and Remus).

Thanks for the ask and I'm so sorry it took so long to respond but it gave me even more to think about. The masculine vs. feminine coding just adds an extra element to Snape and Sirius's dynamic when it was already interesting to me and I've always had a lot of thoughts about how those two were written with so many parallels and points of contrast. Love this ask!

#severus snape #snape meta #pro snape #snape community #snape fandom #snapedom

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crash-and-cure · 2 years

Text

Hallelujah (Yandere!Austin!Elvis x Reader)

Gif credit to @troubleinapinksuit

Summary: In which Cinderella is a no-nonsense, semi-workaholic nurse and Prince Charming is a drug-addicted rockstar on a downward spiral and newly discovered obsessive tendencies. Truly a fairy tale worthy of sin city.

A/N: Anybody ever open up requests and then disappear for like two weeks or am I alone? I promise that the next ones should be out sooner than this one at the cost of being shorter, but I came up with the opening line and I just went off. Did you know that gatorade used to be in glass bottles? It makes sense but it’s a weird thing to think about. Why am I telling you all this? Becuase I did about twenty minutes of research on this topic for a detail that ultimately did not make it into this story so this is my way of making up for it to myself.

Warnings: Depictions of a person experiencing and accepting death. Depictions and POV of a person experiencing an overdose. Non-consensual drugging for both Elvis and the reader. Dubious consent (Please note this is not related to the non-consensual drugging, this is here due to alcohol and false pretenses being involved). Yandere!Elvis so expect themes of obsessive, manipulative, and delusional behavior. Kidnapping. Explicit sexual content depicted that includes Penetrative sex (m/f), oral sex (f.recieving), and worship kink. Mentions of religion that borders on zealotry and a bible quote. Self-blame. Probably more that I am blanking on. Excessive use of “Angel” as a nickname for the reader. Please do not interact if you are under 18.

Word Count: 10.8k

My Masterlist

They don’t know, Elvis thinks as he starts to sway. These folks don’t know they’re watching a murder.

Elvis can feel it in his bones, that this stage is where he’s going to die. To be honest he felt it maybe five songs ago. He almost takes comfort in how fitting it is, that his life was a stage and now it’s gonna end on one.

He knows he should want to fight it, if not for himself then for Lisa, Priscilla, his daddy, Dodger, somebody else who relies on him, anybody really. But he's so goddamn tired of all of it, and he just wants to rest.

Not even an hour ago he had learned the hard truth about that son of a bitch. How he’s lied to him for years, and how that rat bastard clipped his wings. He had originally come out here with the intention of giving a hell of a performance, firing that asshole right up here, walking off stage and leaving Vegas forever.

But I’ll show him. I’ll show ‘em all, he thinks hazily. I’m gon’ fly away from here, maybe all the way to the rock of eternity if I can.

“I’d like to turn the house lights down,” he says like he has a hundred times before. “Now that you’ve seen me I’d like to take a look atchu.”

He had made that plan before his tongue started feeling like sandpaper in his mouth, his head started spinning like a top, and breathing became far more laborious than he remembers it ever being. He idly wonders if this is how his mama felt when she went. He can probably ask her when he sees her soon. Dying up here doesn’t scare him too much anymore now that he’s had time to accept that that is what's happening. So he figured if this was going to be his last performance, this was undoubtedly going to be his best one.

He never understood that phrase swan song, why sing when you know you’re going to die? But the better question now is why not sing when you know you’re going to die? Why not declare I’m dying and I want everybody to see it?

Let them watch, he thinks venomously as he breathes heavily into the mic for what will most definitely be the last time. Let them all witness what “Colonel Tom Parker” did to me.

“Ladies and Gentleman, you’ve been a lovely audience,” he says, hoping it doesn’t sound too slurred. “Thank you.”

In that single moment before he knows he’s going to collapse he looks one last time out into the audience he loved so much, but his blurry vision makes it impossible to see most of them. This is what he chose, this is who he chose over, everything his family, his friends, his health. The fact he can’t even see most of them, hurts him in a way that the drugs can’t mask. It’s cruel yet fitting really, this is nothing less than he deserves.

But in a sea of faces that all blur and blend together the one thing he can clearly see is you. You’re standing in the front row, your brows drawn together and concern marring your beautiful face, something he appreciates so that he can at least leave this earth knowing that at least someone cared. You're dressed in a pure white dress, something much more simple than he's used to from the women that attend his shows. Even amongst the women you’re surrounded by, you stand out as a daisy in a bed of roses, he’s glad at least the last thing he’ll ever see is something so beautiful.

It gets windy all of a sudden, as he feels cool air blow against the side of his face.

No… wait… he’s just falling.

He hasn’t been sleeping much in the past few days, but if there was ever a time to do so, now feels like the perfect time for it. He simply waits for the inevitable feeling of his head hitting the stage, though with everything he took before coming out here he doubts he’ll even be able to feel that.

But it never comes. Instead he feels his head being cradled in a soft hand, and he opens his heavy eyelids and you’re there again. He watches as you use the table to scramble onto the stage before the curtains close, and he sees you up close for the first time. He doesn’t know if it’s from the spotlight behind you outlining your silhouette or something else entirely, but having a better look at you, your beauty goes from simple to nothing short of otherworldly.

An angel? He thinks blearily. Mama always did say they would be beautiful. He can see that you’re saying something, but his head is too muddled to process any of it.

So you’re here to take me away from this awful place, he thinks with a small smile. He didn’t like to think about death too much before he was faced with. He is was a firm believer in a heaven and hell, and many things he’s done in his life have more than earned him a spot down below. But you’re here now so it couldn’t have been all that bad in the grand scheme of things.

He reaches out to touch you and you grab onto his hand, look at it for just a second. He sees your worry grow as you get in closer to his face and he feels your feather-like but oh-so warm touch to his lips that feel so cold now. He feels other hands on him now trying to lift him up, and he notices his crew around him, but all he can focus on is you. It’s hard not to when you physically keep one of his eyes open, and he sees your worry go into full blown panic.

He tries, but it’s getting hard to breathe let alone speak right now. Please, he wants to say, don’t leave me with them. All he’s able to do to convey this message is a pathetic squeeze to your hand, and suddenly you’re gone just as quickly as you came. He feels his eyes well up so afraid now he’ll die without you there.

Everybody is surrounding him now trying to speak to him, but he’s desperately looking for you, and he feels as though there’s something he’s forgetting to do but he can’t remember what. Jerry comes into view and his mouth is moving and it looks like he’s shouting but nothing is coming out. Billy is there taking off his jacket, bunching it up underneath his head but still he can’t see you. Red’s slapping his face while Charlie’s pouring water on it, though he barely feels either of them. Everybody’s trying something, trying to save him, but he’s only concerned about you finding him and taking him away from here.

All these hands are touching him, most of them he doesn’t know, or at least doesn’t recognize. Maybe he is going to hell or fuck, maybe Vegas is hell for all he knows. It makes about as much sense as everything else in his life, which he doesn’t need to worry about for much longer. He feels like there’s something he’s supposed to be doing right about now but he’s too goddamn tired for any of it anymore and he wants to close his eyes until he sees you once again.

You look more disheveled than he remembers and now you’re furiously swatting at all of the hands on him as you shout at all of them. He feels your hands on his chest now and you’re pressing down repeatedly, before he can even speculate what you’re doing he feels your lips on his and it’s the warmest he thinks he’s ever felt. The kind of warmth that fills up his whole chest…

Oh right… he needs to breathe.

It feels as though he blinks and suddenly he smells the familiar tobacco scent of the casino. He still feels like he’s on his back but he’s floating and you’re above him the harsh lights of the casino floor giving him a better look at you. I was right, he thinks. You’re going to take me away from here. Satisfied with his assumption, he closes his eyes for what feels like the final time and he can feel his lips curve into a smile as your lips meet his once more.

Suddenly what feels like a bolt of lightning strikes through him, and his eyes are wide open again. For a few seconds, everything looks and sounds so much clearer, his muscles seem to have finally woken up, and his breathing has become far steadier. Is this what Captain Marvel Jr. felt like when he would say Shazam? It had to be because in those few moments he felt as though he could take on the world, especially when he finally gets a good look at you.

You’re hovering over him and the smile you give him would have made him weak in the knees if they weren’t already so. He reaches out, desperate to touch you but he feels darkness creep back into the edge of his vision once more. He knows he’s going to pass out right before he does, but he still tries only barely grazing your neck before the weight of his arm becomes too much to bear. But his hand catches on something before it eventually gives way and it finally falls.

He feels something in his hand but he’s far too tired to speculate, only using the last of both his conscious thoughts and strength to grip on tight to it. But he loses the strength to even keep his eyes open and he blacks out.

He can’t open his eyes, but he’s awake. Though that comes and goes and even then there isn’t much to say about it. He hears a mix of familiar and unfamiliar voices, the bed and sheets he’s laying in aren’t as comfy as he’s used to, and all he can smell is an oddly sterile smell. But something he can definitely feel is your parting gift in his grasp. Everytime he feels conscious he would focus on that and spend his energy trying to figure out what it was in his hand.

Ironically enough what does bring him back to the waking world is when he feels a small hand trying to remove it from him. His eyes snap open to try to find the culprit only to be met with his own blue eyes staring back at him.

“DADDY!” Lisa Marie sobs into his chest. “You’re awake!”

The next hour or so is a flurry of activity with doctors and nurses surrounding him asking him questions and checking the various machines around him. Now that he’s awake he is able to get a good look at what you left him: A small crescent made of smooth white stone and a very broken gold chain.

You were real, he thinks, practically giddy before he’s quickly brought back to Earth as he searches the room only to find you’re not there. Even seeing Priscilla after so long since the divorce doesn’t do much to soften his disappointment at your absence.

“‘Cilla what the hell happened that night?” he would ask after Lisa had fallen asleep tucked into his side. He had avoided the topic as long as he could stand by this point, the doctors keeping quiet about it.

She takes a long sigh, her eyes glassy, before she gazes out the window and upon seeing the International in the distance she hardens herself for what she has to say. “You stopped breathing. From what the doctors here told me, Dr. Nick gave you way too much of something and you just stopped. There was a girl in the front row that was able to keep you goin’ until the ambulance got there.”

“Who was she? The girl who saved me.”

Priscilla shrugs at this, “Just some nurse.”

She has never been more wrong about anything, Elvis decides at that moment. “What was her name?” Elvis questions, maybe a little harsher than needed.

Priscilla looks slightly taken aback at his intensity, “I don’t know Elvis. I got here the day after you collapsed and when I learned what she did, I wanted to thank her personally. But even the guys say she was long gone by the time they got here the same night.”

This makes him incredibly sad, that you would leave him so soon after you saved him.

“Elvis,” Priscilla says severely. “I’m not going to put Lisa through this again. So either you shape up and go to that place in San Diego, or…” she cracks at this one. “Or you’ll never see either of us again.” It’s certainly not a light threat for her to make, Elvis realizes, but nobody wants to watch a person slowly kill themself. And as he rubs his thumb along the pendant of your necklace, he realizes why you had to go.

Jerry finally came to see him the next day, looking worse than Elvis felt. Him and his father had been given the hard job of damage control for the whole incident, as Elvis has now found himself without a manager. Apparently some of the “medicine” in Dr. Nick's bag was at best less than reputable and at worst fully illegal, and when pressed Nick pointed the finger at The Colonel. Both of them were taken into custody and were currently under investigation, but considering the world of shit the two have found themselves in, it looks like their best bet will be to pay damages and more.

In real time Elvis heard as their house of cards fell apart, and suddenly the prospect of his life didn’t seem as daunting as it did when he accepted his death a week ago. Even if he had died, this was all inevitably meant to come out, the only difference being he wouldn’t have been here to see it.

But he is still here, all thanks to you. His Angel.

In one fell swoop, you not only saved his life, but made his life worth living again. Even if you were of this Earth, there is no doubt in his mind that you were heaven-sent. The lord works in mysterious ways and ain’t no way this was all a coincidence. You were meant to be in that audience. He was meant to have gotten to this point. You were both destined to be.

To him the message couldn’t be clearer: He had to leave Vegas, but he sure as hell wasn’t going to leave you.

“Jerry this is it. I gotta get clean,” Elvis says, clutching onto the token you left for him. This has been a long time coming, he didn’t listen when he was told the obvious by Priscilla, by his boys, even by himself. “‘Cilla told me about this place in San Diego, and I think I best go.”

“Course, EP,” he says with a comforting hand on his shoulder. “You take the time you need, and I’ll handle everything from the outside.”

“You’re a good man,” he says as he hesitates about what he’s going to request next. Of course Jerry is no stranger to a task like this, but this ain’t like those other times. Because you’re not just some girl he wants to fuck between shows, you’re his angel. But he himself won’t be able to do this while he’s getting clean. “While I’m in there, I need you to do somethin’ for me” Elvis said, surer in his next course of action than he has been in years.

The next few months were hard, honestly if it weren’t for knowing that he had to get better before he could see you again, he’s not sure he would have lasted. So he followed all the rules, took what the doctors gave him, went to therapy, the whole nine yards. There were even days where he could hardly get out of bed, it was so bad.

But it was you, his angel, that gave him strength. Those days in rehab when he felt so cold to the point of shaking, he thought of your warm touch, and he could feel himself steady. When he felt his chest getting tight, he imagined your lips on his breathing life back into him, and he would breathe easier. The nights when he could do nothing but pace around his room restless and irritable, he would press your necklace to his lips and recite a prayer to you, and he would dream sweet dreams of a life with you. He made vows of loving and cherishing you once he found you, and promises of everything the two of you would do once he got clean. How the both of you would never see that hellish place again, and how happy you would be together.

Every single success he had in rehab was because of you, but as his leave date approached he still worried about how long he would be able to keep this up without you. However he trusts Jerry, that if you weren’t already back at Graceland, then at the very least he would know where to find you.

But Jerry failed. He couldn’t find you, and Elvis’ subsequent rage was one for the history books. All of them had the gall to be surprised at his reaction, having never seen him getting so worked up about a girl.

They don’t understand, he thought. You’re not just some girl. You’re my angel.

The only thing that was able to reel him back was their hail mary of a plan to lure you out. The closest any of them could come was that you were in some way associated with the ER he ended up at, but nothing else. He hated the idea of going back to Vegas, but if it brought you back to him, so be it. You walked into hell to save him, so how could he do any less for you?

The days leading up to his last Vegas show, he spends time with Lisa Marie, knowing that he won’t be able to do so again until he’s found you. On that last night she ends up asking for a story, and he could only really think of one that was worth telling. He told her the story of the foolish king, the evil wizard, and the beautiful angel. How the angel was sent by the lord himself to save the king from the evil wizards clutches. And it was with her help was the King finally able to banish the evil wizard forever.

“And did they live happily ever after Daddy?” she asked while drawing you as he described.

He pauses at that and looks down as he fidgets with your necklace before he says, “They sure will baby girl.”

—-----------------------

You were not having a good time.

Of course you would be the one responsible for patching up almost ten men after a bachelor party ended in a knife fight. Only in Vegas, you think as you stitch up your third man that night. You scowl slightly at the crooked sutures before you, but you try to hide that considering that the man before you is one of the more affable (read:sober) ones in the group.

I’m out of practice, you think bitterly. Luckily the rest of your lot seem to only have surface wounds that just require bandaging, so you don’t have to see your work get progressively sloppier. Even though you had been back for awhile since your leave, you had been readjusting to the pace of the ward, and tonight was the first night Verna, your Senior Nurse, trusted you to handle more than administrative work.

You’re not sure if you can blame your poor job entirely on being out of practice as there is still some stiffness in your now mostly healed hand, though you’re not about to go saying anything lest Verna hear anything about it. That traitor, you think, who turned what was supposed to be a two week mandatory vacation, and added a three-month paid medical leave for a broken hand, in spite of your protests. So the last thing you want or need is more time off.

What stings the most about the injury to your hand was that it wasn’t the initial injury that did the most damage it was the fact that you kept using it that really fucked it up. And Verna was able to point that out as a metaphor for why you were in desperate need of a break.

Though it’s not like you had a choice but to keep using it that night. And in all honesty you would do it all over again.

Once you finish up on the lot of them and have them on their way out, all under some light painkillers and apparently the best of friends again, you figure now is as good a time as any to take your lunch. It’s a Friday night, from experience you know things are only going to get progressively crazier tonight, and eating now as opposed to later is the way to go. So you make your way to the cafeteria for the blandest food in the world, and find your work mom.

When you first began at this ER, Verna had all but immediately adopted you as her own, and what started out as an overbearing and slightly annoying mentor relationship, turned into a more endearing friendship than you could have imagined. Though that didn’t mean she still didn’t have those overbearing tendencies of hers, as evidenced by her previous crusade to get you to finally use your accrued vacation days. And the way she’s practically buzzing in her seat tells you that you haven’t seen the last of it.

“What are you planning?” you question as you sit down with your food.

“What do you mean?” she says feigning innocence.

“You have that same look in your eye that you get when you’re scheming something that will inevitably teach me a lesson about my life and/or job,” you say, self-aware as to how these things usually go.

“Bones, you’re being paranoid,” she all but sings, and you can’t help but roll your eyes at the use of your nickname. Nurse Bones the rest of the staff call you, after the Star Trek character, and you can’t say it doesn’t fit. Abrasive and brusque is how you’re usually described by patients, and admittedly you could stand to work on your bedside manner. But to be fair it tends to be the very thing that’ll keep most patients alive. Due to your stubborn attitude, you have found that you have a knack for getting answers out of even the most belligerent patients, which has done wonders in saving time and reducing the likelihood of accidentally causing more damage due to a patient lying.

You narrow your eyes at her, but she still maintains that innocent smile.

“By the way, you have next Friday off,” she casually drops, while taking a sip of her coffee.

“Goddamn it, Verna.”

She puts her hands up in defense with an easy smile. “If you want you can think of it as work considering you’re going to be representing the hospital itself.”

You sigh in defeat knowing you can’t say no to her. “What is this all about?”

“Oh just about a certain rockstar who's doing his final performance in the city and he wants the entire medical staff that saved his life present,” she says, all the while, still able to maintain the coy act.

It admittedly takes you longer than it should to put the pieces together because you honestly haven't thought about that night in a while. When your sisters had come to you with the extra ticket to the concert you had been excited for it, even going so far as to plan for it to be the kick off to the vacation Verna had been bullying you into taking.

“You’re one of my best nurses in the ward,” she had argued. “The last thing I need is for you to get burnt out from working too hard.”

You didn’t expect much from the vacation itself, you just wanted to sleep, see a couple movies, maybe finally get around to saying yes to that drink with that cute x-ray tech.

Only as usual the lord himself laughed at your plans. The girl you asked to sub your scheduled shift came down with a bad stomach flu, and was unable to make it, forcing you to work a double. And even when you were officially over with your shift, you were reluctant to leave due to how full the waiting room looked. If it weren’t for Verna all but shoving you into the cab meant for the International, putting a twenty in your hand, and ordering you to have fun, you probably would have skipped the concert entirely.

You were still dressed for work, so you were forced to try your luck with one of the shops at the casino, and the best you could find was a white sundress. You usually try to avoid white, because something about it being the color of your uniform just made you antsy as though you were still on duty. But the alternative was going to a show in your dowdy nursing gown, so you ended up buying it anyway.

When you were able to meet up with your sisters, they were both in contrast dressed to the nines, making you feel even more underdressed. In spite of the less than ideal start to the night, you were determined to enjoy yourself. After all this concert was supposed to be the official marker to the start of your vacation, and it was also fulfilling one of your childhood dreams of seeing him live. And while your “love” for him had cooled since you were 12, that didn’t mean you were any less excited when one of your sisters had won front row seats to his show.

When he walked out onto that stage all your troubles were seemingly forgotten and you could focus on this captivating man. He was nothing short of amazing to see live, and you truly believe that your younger self simply didn’t think big enough when picturing what it would be like to see him up close and personal, especially with how good the seats you got were. He took all of your expectations of it and blew them all away.

Then he started getting a little wobbly.

Then he started getting very wobbly.

Then Elvis fucking Presley had the audacity to nearly slip into a coma right in front of you.

“Ok, but… I wasn’t officially on the emergency team, so I don’t technically count,” you say in an attempt to worm your way out of the night off, all the while stabbing at your potato salad in your frustration.

“Ok, but technically,” she teases. “You belong there more than anybody considering you did pretty much all the work of stabilizing him.”

“I was just doing what anybody would have done,” you downplay.

“Y/N, you were literally surrounded by hundreds of people that night, and nobody acted like you did. Hell not even that doctor that was there did what you did.”

You huff at that, because thinking about that fucking doctor will always get you heated. You’ve encountered your fair share of inadequate doctors before, but Elvis’ personal physician crossed over into cartoonishly incompetent. What kind of doctor who is not only prescribing morphine, let alone over-prescribing it, doesn’t carry any goddamn naloxone on him. And just as the cherry on this very fucked up sundae he tried to use an amphetamine in an effort to cancel out the opioid effects. That is the kind of logic that has brought many users to the ER or worse the morgue, and you at least expected better from a trained medical professional.

But nothing pissed you off more than the penguin looking man, who you would later learn is/was Elvis’ manager, asking if he would still be able to do the midnight performance. You remember just giving him a look, all the while maintaining your rhythm on Elvis’ chest, and you were able to make that man take a step back in fear. The way he stood there and watched as he shook like a leaf, you could tell whose fault this was.

Truly that entire night experience should serve as a testament to both your focus and your patience. Though you did have to remind yourself after every stupid question and comment that came from either of those mens mouths, that you had to focus on preventing brain damage in Elvis, and not try to induce it in those two. You were so fucking close to trying it when Penguin man had the audacity to criticize you on being too rough with your CPR technique, but lucky for him, the EMTs had finally gotten there.

On the other hand, the luckiest break you had all night was that you were familiar with one of the paramedics, so you were allowed inside the ambulance as an extra set of hands, and because no immediate family could be found. After you were able to stabilize him with the Naloxone and the paddles, you were able to catch up with Verna at the ER, and warn her of what that stupid doctor was trying to do back there.

Though by the time you had gotten there, the adrenaline had subsided and you finally noticed the throbbing pain in your hand. You had caught his head before it could hit the floor, which you knew was the equivalent to a bowling ball dropping on to your hand, so you’re not surprised that it did cause some damage to you. You put a brace on your hand and end up sleeping in Verna’s office until her shift ended and she could take you home. The injury turned out to be more severe than you initially thought, and you were put on Medical leave against your will for months.

“How ‘bout this Bones,” she says. “As repayment for losing your necklace, you’ll be my date to the concert.”

You know better than most that Verna is not one to be messed with, and the fact that she’s resorted to guilt tripping this early, means she desperately wants you to go. The necklace in question is the one she gave you after your first successful year in the department, something she gives all the nurses that choose to stay put in the hell that is Vegas’ premier Emergency Ward. Each one was unique to the recipient and yours, in reference to your nickname, was a small ivory stone shaped like horns held by a delicate gold chain. So delicate in fact you somehow lost it somewhere between here and the International with no clear picture as to when exactly it happened.

You let out a long sigh before conceding. In response she mockingly rubs her hands together like a supervillain, and says, “Haha, my dastardly plan to get you to have a fun night has worked.”

“I had fun at the last show,” you argue.

“Y/N, I worry about you if that was your definition of fun.” she says, and you throw a pea at her. “Also I hear rumors that a certain x-ray tech also got a ticket.” she whispers conspiratorially.

This does get a bashful smile out of you. If you can take one thing away from that forced medical leave was that you did end up having those drinks with Ricky. And a few more after that. And then some dinner. Currently you’re in that awkward “what are we” stage that neither of you are too eager to be the ones to define. But hopefully this concert will be the turning point for that.

“By the way, we were asked to wear all white,” Verna casually drops, as she walks away from the table.

“Goddamn it, Verna,” you curse with a mouthful of jello.

The week passes faster than you would have liked, and suddenly it’s friday night. You didn’t really have the time nor the motivation to buy yet another white dress that would sit in your closet, so you end up once again in front of the International in the same sundress, though this time with notably better company.

Though that feeling of being underdressed is somehow worse considering who could actually afford to go to his final concert this time around. His near death experience and the accusations that his previous doctor and manager were facing had caused his fans to rally around him after this, and factoring in that this is going to be his last performance stateside, the tickets to this show were perhaps some of the most expensive in the history of Vegas. There were rumors that even the nosebleeds would cost you somewhere in the $70 range, so you could only imagine what your front row seats would have cost. But the fact that these tickets apparently sold out within minutes was a testament to how beloved he still is.

It’s not exactly a secret amongst the staff that you had been the mysterious good samaritan at the concert, but by the time you had gotten back from leave, Elvis being in your ward had become old news. You weren’t exactly eager to spill, and no one was curious enough to ask. Though you did get a few questions this week from some of the more vulgar nurses asking if you had tried to slip a little tongue when giving him mouth to mouth. You laughed it off and half-jokingly replied, how if anything he did. You’re seated between Verna and Ricky, who had the honor of making sure you hadn’t accidentally cracked a rib when performing CPR on the King, farther away from the stage than you were last time, though you weren’t too cut up about it. You’re one for one for people nearly dying when you’re in the front row, and you figure if there’s a repeat performance tonight someone else can take over this time.

As you’re talking to Ricky as to what songs he’s hoping to hear, you don’t so much as hear but feel the familiar horns start to blare, building anticipation amongst the crowd, and evidently yourself as you’re teased over the little dance you’re doing in your seat. And as the music starts to build, you have to remind yourself that you’re still technically at a work event, so you can’t get too wild. Though with the atmosphere you find yourself in, you can’t guarantee your best behavior if you can get Ricky alone.

Then he finally steps out and it’s just as magnificent as you remember. He looks alot better this time around, far more sure footed in his steps and the white jumpsuit with its gold accents stood as a nice contrast to his tanned skin, and you and the rest of the crowd show your love when you see the cape in all it’s angelic winged glory. Even the light sheen of sweat already on his face is doing wonders of making him look as though he’s glowing, as opposed to sickly like his last show.

Considering how well you thought his last concert was when he was high off his ass on morphine and on death’s door, it’s no surprise how incredible this one is, when he’s far more present and alert this time around. Though more being the operative word, as he does seem to be somewhat distracted this time around, and he does seem to hover around the two tables the hospital staff are at.

You can hardly fault him for feeling a little uneasy about being back on stage again after he nearly died on one. Oddly enough you can even see the logic of having an entire medical team ready at a moment's notice for his return if nothing but for the comfort of that extra level of security.

But you’re not here to analyze why a famous man does what he does, you’re here to have a good time, so that’s what you do; You sing, you dance, you laugh at Elvis’ jokes, you flirt with Ricky, you take advantage of your tables covered tab, the whole nine yards. All too soon though it feels like the concert wraps up quicker this time, though you figure he’s simply eager to get his world tour started as soon as possible.

“I’d like to turn the house lights down,” he says.“Now that you’ve seen me I’d like to take a look atchu.” This seems familiar, you think flippantly. “Before I go, I wanna give a special thanks to a few people up front here. The emergency staff of UMC Hospital, Ladies and Gentleman.”

There is a resounding round of applause for your group as the spotlight hits the tables, and you’re just drunk enough to not retreat from the praise and recognition and simply give a cursory wave to the crowd. “But there’s one special lil’ lady here that deserves recognition. Without her folks, I can promise I wouldn’t be here tonight.”

You look around expecting to see Priscilla or maybe even his daughter somewhere around here, but you’re quickly wrenched from your thoughts as you feel the table beneath your elbows jostle a little. You look back toward the stage and find that Elvis no longer occupies it. Instead he is walking on top of your table and giving no regard to the glasses or items atop it, your co-workers acting quickly to save what they can. Before you can even put together who exactly he’s walking toward, you find the king of rock and roll crouching down before you.

“What’s your name angel?” he asks you with the biggest grin on his face, before putting the mic in front of you. The room itself is dead silent, everybody apparently eager to hear your answer, and Elvis, even more so, with the way he’s looking at you. You even move slightly to the left in some vain hope that he’s talking to someone behind you only for the mic to follow you. Whatever drunkenly warm feelings about attention you had quickly vanished, and the only thing stopping you from crawling under the table is that you’re not sure he wouldn’t follow.

You’re floundering and also painfully aware of the seconds that are ticking away, making your pause all the more uncomfortable, and you’re barely able to squeak out your name.

Oh my god, do I really sound like that? You think mortified after hearing your answer repeated through the amplifiers.

“Beautiful,” he says, his eyes shining and he looks at you as though you hang the stars themselves. “Folks, y’all don’t know it, but Y/N here is my very own Guardian Angel.” His statement generating “awws” from the crowd. “Last time I saw her, she left something with me and I think it’s high time I give it back.”

And with a flick of his wrists he produces a gold chain with a bright white pendant at the bottom of it, and you’re stunned when you recognize it, truly believing it was lost forever to you. It’s mind boggling to think it had been with him this entire time, having figured it was in a ditch or melted down by this point. You reach out for it hoping this will be the end of the interaction and you can begin to work on forgetting this ever happened, only for him to pull back.

“...but only if she goes to dinner with me first,” he says mischievously. At his proposition the audience responds with a series of wolf whistles and applause, which only amps up your anxiety of being seen, and it’s made all the worse when some women (some of whom you know) are trying to answer yes for you.

Pressure and stress is something you’re familiar with, but the scrutiny you're currently under not only with your co-workers, but an entire room full of strangers makes you want to shrivel up and die. This feeling is only further perpetuated by the dazzling grin he’s giving you. Words fail you and you doubt anything that comes out of your mouth will be even the least bit coherent, so you instead shake your head in the affirmative before you bury your face in your hands.

“She said yes folks,” he says, his grin going from ear to ear at this point, and the crowd goes wild. This is all punctuated by the return of the music as Elvis winks at you and makes his way back to the stage. The music itself stands in stark contrast to how you’re feeling, sounding bold and triumphant, as you’re escorted backstage trying to hunch in on yourself and avoid being seen. You’re even more mortified as you recognize the lyrics he’s singing, and you purposefully try to avoid looking at him.

Take my hand

Take my whole life too

For I can’t help

Fallin’ in love with you

You’re used to the break neck speed that comes with the territory of working in the ER, but even this is going far too fast for you. Not even five minutes ago you were trying to figure out if you were too dressed up for a burger with Ricky, now you’re standing alone in a penthouse suite waiting for the most famous man in the world for a … a date?

Oh god Ricky, you remember. How are you going to explain this to him? Things were going so well, and you planned to finally sleep with him tonight, but now this happened. And oh… fuck, that’s what people are going to assume what’s happening right now isn’t it? Given Elvis’ reputation, you can deny until you're blue in the face that nothing happened and you’re still unlikely to be believed.

…Because nothing will happen, you’ll eat, you’ll make small talk, he’ll thank you for your part in his life being saved, and you’ll never have to think of this night again. It wasn’t so much that the necklace meant that much to you, but you weren’t exactly in a place to say no to him at that moment. So maybe if you leave right now…

Your fleeting thoughts of running are interrupted by the hand suddenly on your shoulder, making you nearly jump out of your skin. “Woah there angel, settle down now. It’s just me,” he says softly.

That’s hardly comforting, you think. You open your mouth determined to leave at this point only for him to hold up a finger to you before grabbing a folded piece of paper from the piano and handing it to you. You’re hesitant to open it until he says, “my daughter begged me to give this to you if I ever saw you again.” You unfurl it to find what is clearly a child's drawing of an angel with a nurse cap, though with seemingly your general coloring as well as your necklace. The bottom reads “thAnK U 4 sAVing mY dAdY, love lisA.” You can’t help but crack a smile at this, and you feel yourself lose some of that tension you walked in with.

He seems pleased with your reaction, rubbing the back of his neck as he explains how his daughter came up with the angel moniker for you and it kind of stuck for him, considering how he didn’t know your name.

“It’s fine,” you wave away. “I get trying to explain it to her in a way she’d understand.”

“She’s been sayin’ for awhile now that she wants to be a nurse when she grows up,” he admits with a bit of a chuckle. You can’t help the way your heart melts at that. “Hope you don’t mind, I ordered food already. I-I figured you’d wouldn’t want to eat so late.”

“I don’t mind,” you reassure, amused at his slight stutter. “The job’s made me a bit of a night owl, so I’m more on lunch time right now.”

“Guess we got time then,” he says, settling down with a bottle of wine at a table by the window.

“I guess we do,” you say, unable to hold back a smile..

The longer you stick around though, the easier it is to talk to him, his hair is messy and he’s out of the jumpsuit so it’s easy to forget that you are talking to the one and only Elvis Presley. So engrossed in your conversation you hardly notice when the food arrives, and the two of you hardly touch it. He looks at you with that same dopey smile as you talk about your life, your job, anything really. And he reciprocates talking about the places he’s been, the places he’s going and beyond. He even bashfully admits he came back to Vegas for the last time in order to find you and thank you properly.

“I swear Angel, I tried lookin’ for ya after I got out,” he sighs, sending a dirty look at the city right outside the window, his face highlighted by the neon lights below. “I was afraid this godforsaken city swallowed ya whole.”

“Yeah Vegas’ll do that to you,” you commiserate with him, a smile on your face gazing out the window. “It’s an absolute cesspit here.”

“You ever think about leavin’?”

“No, not really,” you say, hardly needing a second to answer, as you take a sip of your drink. You grew up here so you hold no illusions to the glitz and glamor that the city holds. Not to mention your job primarily consists of dealing with patients who are often the byproduct of this awful city. But this is still the city where you were born, where you’ve made your life. A life you’re honestly proud of.

He looks taken aback by your response, and in that moment you have the pleasure of seeing a man who has been nothing but confident and sure of himself stumble over his words. “Re-really? There ain’t no place in this whole world y-you’d rather be.”

“Nah,” you say casually, holding two fingers up. “There are two types of people who live here, ‘This place is a pit and I’m leaving’ or ‘this place is a pit and I’m never fucking leaving.’ No real reason beyond just… liking it here,” you guess shrugging your shoulders. “Besides, I just got back from medical leave, I think I've had enough of a vacation for awhile,” you say, your drink having loosened your tongue.

“What happened?” he asks, his brow furrowed, looking genuinely concerned for you.

“Oh, umm…” you say, sucking your teeth. And that’s really the elephant in the room neither of you are addressing. The fact that you’re only here because of what you did for him. “Well I kinda broke my hand… that night… when I caught you.” You follow this with perhaps the most awkward laugh, which you quickly cutoff when you see the guilty look on his face.

As you're floundering for some sort of recovery, he gently takes your previously injured hand in his, as he places a small kiss to the back of it. “I’m sorry I put you through so much trouble.” he whispers against your hand. “I can’t thank you enough.”

“Oh don’t worry about that,” you say, trying to even out your breathing, suddenly going from pleasantly to too warm in a matter of moments. “I would have done the same for anybody else.”

“But not anybody else coulda done whatchu did.” he says. “It’s almost sounds like it was all meant to be,”

“That’s one way of looking at it,” you say, sipping your drink. “But if this city has taught me anything in all the years I’ve lived here, it is that luck, good or bad, has its hands in almost everything.”

“You’re too good for this rotten city,” he says, softly rubbing his thumb along your knuckles, his ocean blue eyes piercing into your own. “Y/N, this city ain’t good for no one,” he says. “You gotta get you outta here.”

“Elvis…” you say, putting down your drink. “I’m not saying this city is good, but I’m not saying it’s all bad. It just… is. And I’m fine here. I’ve built my life here and I’m really not interested in leaving.”

“Not even for me?”

That catches you off guard and you’re at a loss for words, because who says that to someone they’ve only just met. And instead of giving an actual answer, you give a short, nervous laugh, and make a comment as to how funny he is. Though internally you’re questioning if his eyes have always been this intense.

“You know when I was in rehab,” he trails on looking at your connected hands. “That necklace a yours, got me through some of the darkest times I been through.”

You swallow thickly at his admission. “Well rehab is one of the hardest things to do. If you want to hold on-”

“No, no Angel,” he chuckles in that deep baritone of his, as he removes the pendant from his wrist. “I’m a man of my word. And I promised to give it back.” He stands up from the sofa, and holds out his hand to you. “But first, I at least want to see you wearin’ it.”

You’re not really thinking anymore, or maybe your thoughts are being drowned out by your pounding heart beat, as you stand up and turn away from him, allowing him to put it on you. Whether it’s the heat radiating off of him from his close proximity to you or the way his hands feel brushing lightly against your neck, your decision is made even before he plants a kiss behind your ear.

Your relationship prospects with Ricky are shot, most of the people you work with saw you leave with him, and they are all gonna assume what they want about what the two of you did. So why not do what you’re going to be accused of? Really there are other reasons not to, but they all die as soon as your lips meet his.

It only occurs to you now that this is not the first time this has happened, but you could hardly compare either experience. The mouth that ravages your own is worlds different from the cold lips you breathed life back into, and you find your hand even wandering into his open shirt as you relish in the now strong and steady heartbeat beneath your palm. He stops at that, noticing what you’re doing, and you see his eyes go glassy for a moment before he goes right back to kissing you, though this time around it’s slower, more… tender, as he leads you back to his bed.

He probably has reasons of his own for this, though you struggle to understand them. Initially you think, rather crudely, that since he’s leaving in the morning, never to return, you suppose you’ll be his final ‘what happens in Vegas.’ But everything he does once you’re in his bed doesn’t quite match up with this assessment.

The way he touches you, it’s not sex, it’s not fucking, it’s not even love making, if you had to call it anything, more akin to worship. Leaving not a single inch of your body untouched as he undresses you, he takes his time to kiss every spot and blemish on you, even paying special attention to the hand he had inadvertently broken, as though in penance. He whispers something into your skin with each kiss, and you’re not able to make out what, but he has an almost reverent tone, as though he were praying. Though any curiosity you had for his words is quickly lost when you feel him bury his face in your cunt.

He’s still fully dressed, you notice, the silky caress of his shirt on the back of your thighs, as you feel his wicked tongue spear inside you. The idea of being so exposed is usually horrifying to you, but now, here with him, you don’t even think about that, truly lost in the pleasure he’s giving you, and you’re sure to be very vocal in your appreciation. He eventually removes his mouth, and you let out an embarrassing little whimper at the loss until you feel the cool metal of his rings brushing your burning core. You can only imagine what kind of image you make right now writhing and unraveling on this man's fingers, wearing nothing but your necklace. From the pleased rumble that emanates from his chest he approves wholeheartedly as he sits on his knees to get a better look at you. He even goes so far as to readjust your necklace so it rests prettily between your breasts, looking for that perfect image of you.

Much of the night proceeds like that, his own pleasure apparently put to the side, as he adjusts you into whatever position he cares to see; sideways, on all fours, above his face, on your knees with your hands holding the headboard, standing up with your back against the window, etc. For his part, he simply watches you fall apart over and over again on his tongue, his fingers, or whatever body part of his you wrap your legs around.

You begin to suspect that this is some fucked up form of repayment for what you did, and several times through out you quite literally paw at his belt in an attempt to get him to join in. Each time he gently takes a hold of your hands, reassuring you each time he’s focused on you alone.

What finally gets him to crack is when you beg tears streaming down your face, “please I need it,” your voice whiny and your eyes frantic to behold all of him. You bring your mouth to his as you whisper, “I need you.” He’s quick to strip down after your plea, and seeing him fully leaves your mouth as dry as the mojave. For both personal and professional reasons, you’re no stranger to the male anatomy, but seeing his is… baffling, simply put.

You feel like a teenager fantasizing in your room about your favorite celebrity again, simply due to how perfect this all feels. Too perfect in fact. You’ve lived long enough to know that things that are too good to be true, usually are, especially in this town. But these lessons are far from your mind as he goes at an agonizingly slow pace to push himself into you, reaching depths you’ve never even imagined ever reaching. You’re left a panting mess beneath him savoring the delicious stretch he’s causing you, and you’re only quieted as he takes your lips once again.

Once you’ve had time to adjust to him being buried to the hilt within you, you beg him to move as you feel that knot in the pit of your belly begin to form once again. He seems charmed by how needy you’ve become, going at a near snail pace within you, telling you to say how you were his. So desperate were you, that you agreed without even thinking about it.

He rewards you with a sweet kiss, as he starts to pick up the pace. You throw your head from side to side as aching whimpers escape your lips, eyes squeezed shut because dear lord, does he know how to move his hips. He takes a hold of your chin, “look at me Angel. Look only at me.” he orders, his lips barely brushing your ear. You're in no position to argue, and especially as he pins your wrists above your head.

He’s so beautiful, you think to yourself as you open your eyes to see him; the light shimmer of sweat on his brow, the slope of his nose, the fullness of his lips, truly this man is too good to be true. But as he picks up the pace to be far more brutal and punishing, you become lost to all the sensations he’s causing you. Despite the tears streaming down your face you can’t say you’re not enjoying yourself, reveling in his incoherent whispers in your ear and begging for him to fill you up over and over again.

By the time you both finished, the two of you have been at it for what feels like hours at this point, and it is only now as the early morning rays of the sun hit the side of his face do you realize how late (or early?) it is. And as he takes in the image of you below him in the light of day for the first time, your angelic image is only further cemented in his mind, he gives you a tender kiss as he has the curtains closed and he’s absolutely sure of what he has to do next.

You wake up to the sound of voices and rummaging in the other room, and the taste of regret on your tongue. Regret tastes a lot like dehydration, you think, helping yourself to both the full glass of water and the tylenol on the nightstand. The curtains and your pounding head make it impossible to tell what time it is or how long you slept. You know you’re in no condition to work, but contemplate going anyway, as you can only imagine what kind of shit you’re going to get from doing so. But with the state of your back right now, you don’t really have a choice.

You’re using the low light peeking beneath the door to gather what you can of your outfit, though as you blindly scour the room, you would settle for your dress and purse at this point. Your head is fuzzy at best so you hardly notice that the white dress you put on is completely different from the one you arrived in, nor did you pay any mind to the salty aftertaste on the back of your tongue that the pills left.

There’s no getting around that you’re about to embark on the most humiliating walk of shame in history, but you were at least grateful that he hadn’t been there when you woke up. You’re glad to have avoided that awkward encounter at the very least. But this small mercy was quickly snatched from you as you open the door only to walk right into the back of the man you were hoping to avoid.

Wait… how did I miss that? You think blearily. You don’t have the luxury of an answer as he quickly turns around and you watch as his face lights up upon seeing you.

“Sorry for waking you Angel,” he says, as he wraps an arm around your waist to give you a quick peck on the lips. “Just had to pack up a few things before we go.” While you aren’t someone prone to having one night stands, you also can’t think of anything to say to this man whom you’re never going to see again. At least he won’t see you, while you’ll probably have to live the rest of your life seeing him as a celebrity.

“It’s fine” you say as you look around the room behind him for your purse. A hopeless endeavor as there are far too many men in the room, who all quickly avert their eyes from you. Though you do see it’s well past sunset, and that just adds to your embarrassment.

“How ya feelin’ Angel?” you hear from him as he puts a hand on your forehead. The cool metal of his rings feel heavenly, but you are also a woman on a mission. The mission being get the hell out of here.

“I’m okay,” you answer, pulling away. “I-I hope you don’t mind I used the aspirin on the nightstand.”

You see his smile lift ever so slightly at that, “That’s why it was there Darlin’. Why don’t I take you home now?”

“Oh you don’t have to do that,” you wave away as he’s walking you to the door.

“You don’t gotta worry Angel,” he reassures you, his arm already slung around your shoulder. “I don’t mind one bit. Hell it’s probably on my way.”

“...ok.” You answer, unenthusiastic at the prospect of having to see him more. But being seen by others as you are right now doesn’t sound any more appealing.

As you're making your way down the hallway with him, you remember your purse that is back in the room. And as you swivel around, you feel the night hitting you all at once, and you’re forced to lean on Elvis to keep your balance. He catches you and with an arm around your waist he helps you to the elevator.

“Wait,” you say weakly. “My purse.”

“Don’t worry, Angel,” he says, kissing your hand. “It’s downstairs already.”

That’s not where I left it, you think, when you do in fact find it already in the backseat of the town car. You tell the driver where your apartment is before pressing your head to the cool glass of the window, your eyes closed. Even with the tinted windows, the neon lights of the strip are doing a number on your eyes (later you would wish that you had chanced it and gotten one last look at home). You don’t understand how you’re this tired considering how much you’ve already slept and you simply lean in further into him, waiting for that aspirin to kick in.

You’re not sure as to how much time passes, but eventually he does help you out of the car and up some stairs. You’ll kick yourself later for not realizing sooner where you were until you felt Elvis start to buckle in your seatbelt. You open your eyes, but even with your blurry vision you recognize that this is definitely not your apartment.

You struggle at your harness, but your fingers aren’t cooperating whatsoever and you’re left helplessly pawing at it. You see others enter but your pleads that you have to leave fall on deaf ears as they all conspicuously avoid looking at you.

You don’t understand why you’re like this, because other than the drinking from the night before you hadn’t had anything other than… the aspirin.

How could you be so stupid? How could you have walked into this trap? Why did you think you could trust him? You start sobbing as you hear the cabin door close, because you have no answer for any of these.

“Please I have to go home,” you weep.

“I am takin’ you home Angel.” and you have no choice but to lean on him as he brings you closer.

Finally once you’re in the air he unbuckles and stands the both of you up. Men you vaguely recognize from the hotel, all again avert their eyes as Elvis proceeds to walk you down the aisle and you beg them to help you. You’re still feeling the effects of whatever he gave you so you don’t really put up much of a fight until he opens the door and you see a bed on the other side.

“I ain’t gon’ hurt you Angel,” he says soothingly. You don’t believe him. “I know you’re mad right now, but I know one day you’ll forgive me. Because this is for your own good.”

“Why?” you sob into his shoulder as he lays you both down. “Why me?”

“Because the lord himself brought us together, Angel.” he says and you see that manic look you’d only gotten glimpses of in your short time together on full display. “And what God has brought together, let no man separate.”

“What?”

“Angel I know you may not believe in all of it,” he says, rubbing your cheek. “But I don’t believe it was just a coincidence that you were there that night. I know someone up above sent you to look out for me. And I ain’t gon’ let you slip away again.”

This man… this man had no issue ripping you away from your life all under some delusion that you needed saving, because that’s what he needed. You’re under the control of a man that cast you as his savior… and god forbid should you ever turn out to be otherwise. This is your life now, because no good deed goes unpunished.

“You and me, Angel.” he says merrily into your hair, holding your hand that rests above his heart, giving you a tender kiss on your forehead. “Today we’re flyin’ away for good.”

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