#your awareness of the world shifting and changing it's fine

[pucksandpower]

Seeing Color

Lando Norris x soulmate!Reader

Summary: the average person goes their whole life without seeing so much as a drop of color, so safe to say you’re quite surprised when the sky suddenly turns blue while you’re covering Formula 1 for the first time

The sky’s a muted gray, just like every other day of your life, as you stand in the bustling paddock of Silverstone, trying to ignore the knot in your stomach.

This isn’t what you signed up for. Football’s your thing — sweaty players, goals, and post-match interviews in rain-soaked stadiums. But motorsport? Formula 1? It’s a different beast altogether.

“Just one race,” your supervisor had assured you. “It’ll be fine, Y/N. You’re a pro.”

Easy for them to say. The paddock is a maze of garages, team colors (which are a uniform grayscale for you, of course), and a cacophony of sounds that’s more overwhelming than a packed Premier League stadium.

You’ve been briefed on the basics — Max Verstappen’s the reigning champ, Lewis Hamilton’s the legend, and Lando Norris, the homegrown young talent, just secured P2.

P2. The words feel alien, even though you repeat them to yourself over and over, willing them to become familiar. Podium finish, second place. You’ve got this.

But the truth is, you don’t. Not really. And it’s showing as you fumble with your notes, trying to prepare for the post-race interviews. Your heart’s racing faster than any of the cars on the track.

“Hey, you alright there?”

The voice comes from behind you, startling you out of your thoughts. You turn around and see a young man — not too tall, with curly hair, and a faint smirk playing on his lips. You recognize him immediately, even in black and white.

Lando Norris.

“Yeah, just-” You scramble for professionalism, straightening your back and offering what you hope is a confident smile. “Just getting ready for the interviews.”

Lando’s eyes flicker down to the notes in your hand. “First time covering F1?”

Your smile falters. “Is it that obvious?”

He chuckles softly, and for a moment, it’s as if the world around you narrows down to just the two of you standing there in the paddock, the sounds and chaos fading into the background.

“A little,” he admits, leaning casually against the wall, as if he’s got all the time in the world. “But don’t worry, I’ll go easy on you.”

You can’t help but laugh, the sound surprising even yourself. There’s something about his easygoing manner that puts you at ease, just for a moment. “I appreciate that.”

“Y/N Y/L/N, right?” He asks, and you’re caught off guard that he knows your name.

“That’s me,” you reply, slipping into the role of interviewer as best as you can. “Congratulations on P2, by the way. How was the race for you?”

He glances at you, and for a brief second, his expression changes. It’s subtle — almost imperceptible — but it’s there. Something shifts in his eyes, something that makes your breath catch in your throat.

“Thanks,” he says, but the word comes out softer than you expect. There’s a pause, a moment of hesitation, before he continues. “The race was … it was intense. But honestly? Standing here right now … it feels like something else is happening.”

You frown slightly, not understanding. “What do you mean?”

Lando looks at you again, more intently this time, and you’re acutely aware of the way your pulse is thumping in your ears. “Look around,” he murmurs, his voice low, as if he’s sharing a secret. “Do you see anything different?”

You blink, confused. You glance around, expecting to see the same monotone world you’ve always known, the same dull shades of gray. But instead … you see it. A soft glow in the distance, a faint tinge of color in the sky.

It’s … blue.

A gasp escapes your lips before you can stop it. “What …”

Lando steps closer, his expression as bewildered as yours. “You see it too, don’t you?”

“I-I don’t understand,” you stammer, your heart racing even faster now. “This can’t be real. I’ve never seen color before.”

“Neither have I,” he admits, his voice barely above a whisper. “But … I’m seeing it now. Because of you.”

The air around you feels electric, charged with something you can’t quite name. Your eyes lock onto his, and suddenly, the world isn’t gray anymore. It’s alive with hues and shades that you’ve only ever imagined. His eyes, a stunning shade of fluid green, meet yours with the same wonder.

“This can’t be real,” you repeat, more to yourself than to him. You’re trying to make sense of the impossible, of the vivid blues and greens and reds that are slowly seeping into your vision, like the world is waking up from a long sleep.

Lando reaches out, his hand hovering near yours, not quite touching. There’s a vulnerability in his gaze that’s startling — like he’s just as unsure of what’s happening as you are. “I think …” he starts, then stops, swallowing hard before trying again. “I think it’s because we’re soulmates.”

“Soulmates?” You echo, the word feeling foreign on your tongue. You’ve heard the stories, the myths — how the world is black and white until you meet the person you’re meant to be with.

But it’s just that, isn’t it? A myth? A fairytale? With over 8 billion people on Earth, the chances of actually meeting your fated match are slim-to-none. Most of the population has grown to accept that they will never see anything other than black and white.

“Yeah,” he says softly. “That’s what they say, right? You don’t see color until you meet your soulmate. But I never thought it’d actually happen. Not like this.”

You’re silent for a moment, trying to process it all. The colors, the implications, the fact that this person — this stranger — is suddenly supposed to mean everything to you. It’s overwhelming.

“I don’t even know you,” you whisper, voicing your fears. “How can we be soulmates if we don’t even know each other?”

Lando’s smile is small, almost shy. “I guess we’ll have to change that, won’t we?”

The words are simple, but they carry a weight that you’re not sure you’re ready to bear. But when he looks at you like that, with such sincerity, you find yourself nodding.

“Yeah,” you agree softly. “I guess we will.”

He takes a step closer, and this time, his hand does brush against yours, sending a jolt of electricity through your body. You feel it in every nerve, every inch of your being. It’s like the world has shifted on its axis, and you’re standing at the center of something much bigger than yourself.

“Can I ask you something?” Lando’s voice is quiet, almost tentative.

“Of course,” you reply, your voice just as soft.

“What’s your favorite color?”

The question catches you off guard. It’s such a simple thing, and yet, in this moment, it feels like the most important question in the world. You look around, taking in the colors that are now flooding your vision — the vibrant greens of the trees in the distance, the deep blues of the sky, the bright reds and yellows of the cars and team logos.

“I don’t know,” you admit, and the honesty of it feels right. “I’ve never had a favorite color before.”

Lando smiles, a real smile this time, and it’s like the sun breaking through the clouds. “Pretty sure I’m legally obligated to say mine’s papaya,” he laughs, and you notice it for the first time — the vibrant hue of his team’s colors, standing out against the grayscale world you’ve known until now. “I think you’ll like it.”

You smile back at him, feeling the connection between you deepening with every passing second. It’s terrifying, and exhilarating, and everything in between.

“I think I might,” you say, and the words are full of a promise that you’re not sure you fully understand yet, but that feels right nonetheless.

For a moment, the world falls away, and it’s just the two of you, standing there in a kaleidoscope of color that’s bursting into life all around you. The roar of the engines, the clamor of the crowd — it all fades into the background as you look at each other, truly seeing each other for the first time.

“So … what happens now?” You ask, your voice barely above a whisper.

Lando’s hand tightens around yours, and there’s a steadiness in his gaze that grounds you. “We take it one step at a time,” he says. “We get to know each other. And we see where this goes.”

The simplicity of his words is comforting. There’s no grand declaration, no rush to figure everything out. Just a promise to take things as they come, to let whatever this is between you grow naturally, in its own time.

“I’d like that,” you say, and you mean it.

He grins, that boyish charm back in full force, and you can’t help but smile in return. “Good,” he says. “Because I think we’re going to be seeing a lot more of each other.”

There’s a warmth in his tone that makes your heart skip a beat, and for the first time since this whole whirlwind began, you find yourself excited about the future — about the possibility of what’s to come.

“Yeah,” you reply, your smile widening. “I think we are.”

And as you stand there, hand-in-hand with Lando Norris, surrounded by the vibrant colors of a world that’s finally come to life, you can’t help but think that maybe, just maybe, this is where you were always meant to be.

[milkykotek]

success story: celebrity crush turned boyfriend

First off, I'm aware people may not believe me. However, that's completely fine! I simply don't care, because it happened, and I wanted to share. I will not be sharing explicit details due to privacy reasons for both me and my boyfriend, especially since he is a popular actor.

It took me a few weeks because I didn't want to jump into dating immediately. However, you can immediately manifest anything and quantum jump! I chose to do it step by step.

"Dp" is a term used in the LOA (Law of Affirmation, Assumption and/or Attraction) community to describe your desired person. It can be anyone. 3D is the 3d dimension, the world you see in front of you. 4D is your thoughts and the reality where everything you want is accomplished.

It happened, but... what did?

I manifested my celebrity crush! I've been interested in him for some time now (due to personal reasons me and my now ex boyfriend – whom I manifested, too – have broken up). It was quite a wild ride, to be completely honest, and as always, I turned out successful!

There seems to be a blockage many face while manifesting celebrities, or otherwise famous/popular people. They're putting them on a pedestal, and so shifting the focus from actually manifesting to idolizing them. Of course, if you're manifesting a celebrity sp, you're most likely a fan of them already – that's not the point.

You're god, you're on top of the universe, you're the most important person there is. I don't care, and neither should you, about your circumstances. They're nothing but that – a circumstance in the 3D. As we all know, the 3D reflects our beliefs, assumptions, and the things we attract by engaging them. We engage them by giving them attention and reacting. An example can be someone giving you a dirty look – "Oh my god, they hate me!," you could think, and that is your assumption. You're not sure if they were even looking at you, because they could've been looking behind you, or simply have a resting b*tch face. And so, you thinking they frowned at you is an assumption. It's quite easy to create one.

And it's also easy to change that! The LOA (Law of Attraction, Assumption and/or Affirmation) community likes to overcomplicate manifesting by claiming it is hard to change your beliefs. It really is not. Every time you encounter a negative thought (thoughts create assumptions, assumptions show up in the 3D), simply change it. It's as easy as it seems. "I feel so sad", you can change that by saying, "I'm so happy and relaxed". Don't accept things you don't want to experience. Something happened that upset you? No, it didn't. Instead of dwelling on it, ignore it or affirm "It never happened", create a new story, "(something else) happened".

how did you manifest a celebrity dp?

You manifest a celebrity just like you manifest anyone else. They're human, and I don't believe in free will – anything I don't want, I change. It may sound weird, but is there even such thing as normal when it comes to manifesting and all the possibilities the universe offers?

The only thing you must do is take them off the pedestal and regain your power and control. It's not about them – it's about you. They're the obsessed one, they're the one manifesting you, you're on their mind.

If you're searching for a recipe, there is none. However, I can share a few ingredients – things that helped me:

— affirming. Affirming is nothing more than repeating what you want to happen, ex. "My dp loves me."

— persisting. You really don't want to give up until you see results. Of course, it doesn't mean you have to manifest 24/7, but then again, we think all the time, and so we manifest all the time, too.

— living in the end. Living in the end is living as if you already had your desire. How would you feel? How would you act, what would you do? Surely you wouldn't be stressing over results and whatever it is you're manifesting, because you'd already have it. Belief isn't necessary as long as you affirm and persist, but it sure does help.

— having someone to talk to. Having someone you can talk to about your manifestation journey and being supported was really important to me. I want to thank my best friends Star and Aurora, for always supporting and believing in me ❤️. Others would've called me delusional but you guys stood by my side.

proof:

Just breathe. For this part, I wanted to share some affirmations I used.

"Everything I want is mine. Everything I want, I get. I want it, I've got it. I'm a master manifestor. I always manifest whatever I desire and want."

"My dp (insert their name) loves me. My dp wants me. My dp is obsessed with me. My dp constantly texts me. My dp is texting me right now. My dp misses me. I am constantly on my dp's mind. My dp is constantly thinking about me. My dp is my boyfriend (or girlfriend, partner, anything you desire). I am my dp's best friend and soulmate."

Good luck ❤️. 222

[blindmagdalena]

All of a Sudden, There You Are

3k. homelander x gn!reader. pining. pure fluff! an older fic that desperately needed cleaning up. rewritten for a consistent perspective and added 600-some words. gif credit. AO3 link.

As Homelander's stylist, it's your job to ensure he looks his best, whether he's saving the world or saving face in front of the cameras. After nearly a year servicing him, things between you change abruptly.

Familiarity and consistency feed a base need in all of us. So much of what is best in us is bound up in the permanence of those around us that it becomes the measure of our stability. For Homelander, there are precious few things in his life that offer him any such quality of solidarity. People come and go. It's the nature of the business that has always been his life.

He's stopped paying attention to the PA's, interns and other worker ants that rotate in and out. Their faces blend together in a bland sea of normality and mediocrity. They're little more than cogs in the machine of his contrastingly extraordinary life.

Funny, then, that you should catch his attention amidst the insectoid buzz of it all.

It happens quite abruptly. He's just sat down before a brightly lit vanity where it's your job to style his hair and makeup, as it has been for the last several months. You greet him good morning, as you do every time, but for whatever reason... He notices you today.

"Remind me, what's your name again?" Homelander asks, watching you draw a comb from your kit.

That visibly catches you off guard. You offer only a dumbfounded stare for a moment before snapping to attention, smiling sheepishly as you introduce yourself. The name doesn't sound familiar to him. Had he never actually asked? Probably not. There’s rarely a point in bothering.

He hums contemplatively. "You've been styling me for a while.”

"Yes, sir. About eight months now," you say, using the comb to begin working product through his hair. He’s fairly certain this is the most he's ever spoken to you in all that time.

That sounds like both a long while and yet no time at all. It's nothing in the grand scheme of his life, but in terms of the people he sees consistently, that puts you in a shockingly small pool of individuals. Inevitably they move on, whether by choice or because they’ve found a way to irritate him enough that he has them dismissed.

He can recall his last stylist not by their name or face, but by the way they’d always manage to spray product in his eyes. They hadn’t lasted two days. The one before that he can’t bring to mind a single detail of.

Typically humans only become exceptional to him for how they grate on his patience. You’ve somehow managed to avoid making yourself noteworthy in that regard. Before today you had served as little more than a properly functioning gear in the well-oiled machine of his life.

Now it's as though you suddenly exist to him. Blood, flesh, laughter and all.

"Gooood morning," he greets you the next day, once again triggering another flare of surprise in you. He’s aware of the strangeness of his initiation, but behaves as though he isn’t. He flashes you one of his trademark Hollywood grins.

"Good morning to you, sir," you say with an answering smile that catches his eye. You sound pleased, which tickles something pleasant in the back of his own mind. He likes how well you’re mirroring his shift in mannerism.

He waves his hand dismissively. "Please, Homelander is fine. You keep it awfully formal."

You're actually quite pretty, he notices. Not exceptionally so, not like the celebrities and figures of social influence that someone like him brushes shoulders with on a daily basis, but... pretty nonetheless. He doesn't remember you being this pretty before, and speculates while you work whether you've changed something about yourself. He cannot put his finger on what exactly that may be, though.

He’s perceptive when it comes to the things that matter. Until yesterday, you hadn’t.

You laugh sweetly, pushing your fingers through his hair. His eyes flutter shut as you do. You’re good with your hands, much better than the last stylist. He’s sure he made note of that at some point, but in the same way someone notices when a door stops squeaking. You take it for granted after the first time.

"I'm a creature of habit. Might take me a couple tries to adjust," you warn, covering his forehead with your palm as you spritz product into his hair. You never let any of that sticky crap get on his face, much less in his eyes. You take measures to ensure his comfort, even though he’s never scolded you. You seem to do it entirely out of reflex simply because you care enough to.

"Well, you've made it this far. You've got time to adjust," he says. Now that he's seen you, he finds that he doesn't care for the thought of you being gone. More than that, he starts actively looking forward to the time he spends in the chair with you. What used to be a monotonous aspect of the celebrity side of his life becomes a comforting ritual. 

The two of you chat with surprising ease, like old friends made new. He tells you about himself, vents to you about work and personal business alike. In turn he learns about you and the life you live beyond the time you share with him. It’s nothing extraordinary–not like his–but it's yours, and for some reason, that’s enough to make it interesting.

The more he grasps that you are an entire person outside of the service you provide him, the more he wants to know. He doesn’t give a fuck about your elderly cat, but he does like the way your voice changes when you talk about it. His mind drifts when you tell him these little anecdotes, and he wonders what you tell the people in your life about him. He wonders if your tone similarly changes when you do. Do you speak fondly of him? Days turn to weeks. Little by little, Homelander discerns small changes in himself. There’s a slight pep in his step these days. The sun feels a little warmer, the thrum of crowded events less irritating. His attitude towards interviews flips; even the ones he used to dread he begins to anticipate. He knows you’ll have him looking and feeling his finest. He knows that regardless of what awaits him, you’ll have something to say about it that will make it easier to smile for the cameras.

Thinking of you is sometimes all it takes.

When he has nothing on his schedule to be styled for, he sulks. On those days, he misses your laugh the most. 

He makes sure the products he keeps at home are the same as the ones you use. The smell of them reminds him of the smell of you, of your knock-off Dior perfume that fades too quickly after you apply it, which makes it just perfect for his keen sense of smell. The humble subtlety of you, your sincerity and gentleness, have become a boon against the unfeeling corporate reality of his life. On the days he does see you, he begins to miss you before he’s even left you. Now, as he walks to his next scheduled appointment with you, he’s painfully aware of the beat of his own heart. His stomach is twisting in on itself, though he isn’t hungry. If anything, he feels a little nauseous. The closer he gets to the door, the louder the cacophony inside of him becomes. Is he sick? That shouldn’t be possible, but he can’t understand what’s happening to him. Pausing just outside the door, he takes in a steadying breath.

What the fuck is wrong with me?

Taking a moment to collect himself, he gives his face two quick pats on either side, shaking his head. Get it together, he tells himself, stepping into the dressing room. 

“Gooood morn–” Homelander cuts himself short, looking around the empty room. His brows pinch. He isn’t early. Pursing his lips, he takes a brief stroll about the room, clutching his hands behind his back. He peers down the hallway, cutting through the layers of wall with his vision. No sign of you on the grounds yet. He clicks his tongue. 

You’ve never been late. Unable to settle, he paces for a while. He has the thought to call you, but he realizes he doesn’t have your number. Why doesn’t he have your number? It seems such an obvious thing to have despite the fact he’s never needed it.

He’s just pulled out his cellphone to track it down from Ashley when the door suddenly opens and his head snaps up. The initial relief he feels is cut short, turning cold in his chest when the person who steps through the door is most definitely not you. “Good morning!” the woman greets him, her voice chirpy and grating in his ears. She’s not really happy to see him. She doesn’t know the first fucking thing about him. At most, she’s another sycophantic drone who’s only pleased to breathe his air. In his upset, she looks freakishly distorted, her smile overly wide and fake. His leather gloves creak as he curls his hands into fists. “Who the fuck are you?” he asks, voice as measured as he can manage it. His anger hits in an unreasonable surge, hot like lava from a volcano. This woman’s only crime is the fact she’s not you, and yet it’s enough to make him want to rip her head off her shoulders, spine and all. The woman hesitates in the doorway, her chipper demeanor flipping to a fearful one. “Uhm, my name is Lisa, I’m supposed to style you to–” “Where is my stylist?” he interrupts her, prowling towards her like a hungry predator. He says again, louder this time, voice full of anger and anxiety in equal measure, “Where the fuck is my stylist?!” “I– I don’t know!” Lisa yelps, stepping backwards from him. “I was called in as a last minute replacement! They said– they said there was an accident, or–” Homelander pushes her roughly out of the doorway, blowing past her with a frustrated growl. She hits the wall hard before crumpling to the floor like a lifeless sack of potatoes, but he doesn’t even register it. He calls Ashley, stalking down the hallway, his footfalls loud with fury. Why the fuck didn’t anyone think to tell him? “Ashley!” He snarls into his phone the second she answers. “Tell me where the fuck my goddamn stylist is.”

Homelander is at the hospital within minutes. The staff puts up a meager effort to enforce protocols, but he’s The Homelander, and after a lie or two, they eventually let him through. He hates the smell of hospitals. The sickly mix of bleach and illness, the buzzing of the fluorescent lights. They never should have brought you here. You should be in Vought’s med ward.

You should be with him. When he finds you, you’re sitting with the hospital bed halfway reclined, wearing nothing but a hospital gown. The vibrant reds and blues of his suit paint a sharp contrast to the stark white walls of the hospital room when he steps inside. You have a pudding cup in your hand, though you nearly drop it when you see him in the doorway. His hair is woefully unstyled, splayed loose in every direction from his flight. “H-Homelander,” you sputter, choking on your bite of pudding. You swallow, clearing your throat. He’s walking towards you. The closer he gets, the faster your heart beats in his ears. “What are you doing here?” “Are you okay?” He asks, blowing off your question entirely. He blinks and his vision flickers through your clothes and skin alike. He scans your body for internal damage, for broken or fractured bones. You’re not wearing a cast or anything, but he needs to be sure. You nod, clutching at the blanket, wearing your confusion plainly on your face. “Yeah, I’m okay, it’s probably just mild whiplash, but I’m getting an x-ray to be–” “You’re fine,” he breathes more to himself than to you, his relief palpable. He can hear the flustered patter of your heart clearly. With the adrenaline wearing off, he’s beginning to feel that sickly familiar feeling that he had experienced in the hallway; butterflies rampant in his stomach, battering their wings frantically inside him. His jaw feels tight, his tongue too big for his mouth. Staring at you now, frail and precious as you are in this ugly hospital bed, he realizes what’s the matter–what has always been the matter–he is deeply and incurably in love with you. “Are you okay?” You ask, taking in his tortured expression, his wildly wind-swept hair. The obvious concern in your voice and in your eyes churns his already twisting gut. “No,” he says, the response knee-jerk. Even though the room is still, he feels as though the world is spinning around him. “No, I think I’m in love with you,” he says, expression twisted up, like he’s figuring out each word as he says them. Your heart skips a beat, your breath catches in your lungs. It’s as if the words have paralyzed you. Homelander laughs. It sounds a little hysterical. 

“I’m telling you all of a sudden, but it isn’t new with me,” he says, reaching out to cup either side of your face in his gloved hands. “I love you,” he says, voice firmer now, the realization setting in fully. He looks slightly delirious with it. He’s discovered a secret that he should have known all along, that seems so obvious in hindsight. Of course he loves you, because you love him. The gentleness in your hands as you touched his face, the care in your fingers stroking through his hair far longer than both of you knew you needed to. You dedicated yourself like no other to showing him reverence in service of him, and is that not love in its purest form? And yet, you don’t look to share his elation. You look like you’ve been struck by lightning, expression wide and bewildered. You still haven’t taken a breath. Homelander’s smile falters. “What’s the matter?” He asks, tone dropping a touch. “This is good news! Great, even.” For every second that you do not speak, the beat of his heart feels heavier in his chest. Why don’t you look happy? Finally, you suck in a shaky breath. He watches you with all the intensity of a viper poised to strike.

“I…” You hesitate. You lift your hands and grip his wrists, squeezing them through the thick fabric of his gloves as if to convince yourself that he’s really there. Maybe the accident was worse than he thought. Did you hit your head? 

Panic swells in his chest. It hadn’t occurred to him you might not reciprocate. The thought makes him ill.

“I never…” your eyes turn glassy, welling with tears. “Say it!” he wants to shout, his own heart hammering loudly enough to nearly drown out your words.  “I never would have thought–or even dreamed–in a million years that you might love me back.”

love me back.

Like a dying ember roaring back to life, Homelander’s demeanor reignites, his faded smile broadening once more. 

“I realized it when I was worried fucking sick because you didn't show up,” he says, leaning closer to you. He’s brought the scent of ozone from the sky he tore through on his way to you, but all he cares about is the faint smell of pudding lingering on your lips.

He huffs a laugh. “They sent in some idiot to fill in for you. Like they could replace you. I almost tore her head off,” he says, giddy with euphoria. Your expression shifts, brows furrowing. “Wait, what? You almost-” “I’m gonna kiss you now,” he interrupts, his voice a low rumble. He can already taste you in the breaths you’re close enough to share with him, and he’s never been hungrier for anything–or anyone–in his life. You fall silent with a shiver, nodding minutely, eyes falling shut. “Please do.” His lips meet yours in a gentle press. He deserves a medal for not crushing you with the sheer magnitude of his desire. You all but melt against him, settling into his grip as smoothly as you settled into his life, his mind, his heart. When the two of you break apart, you make a breathless noise that shoots through him like a bolt of lightning. He feels hyper aware of your every sound and move.

God, how he wants to feel every part of you. 

You move your hands to touch his face and he leans into the softness of your caress. You’ve been close enough to kiss more times than he can count. The fact it’s only now occurred to him to do so seems like lunacy. Your eyes dip to his lips, your thumb brushes the bottom one. He catches it with a quick kiss and you laugh your sweet bell-chime laughter.

Pushing your hand into his hair, the wondrous joy in your expression becomes tinged with amusement. “And people wonder why I use so much gel,” you murmur, smooth the wild splay of his hair down with both hands, cupping the back of his head. Homelander smiles wide and boyishly, which prompts you to kiss him again.

“I’m not having some kind of brain bleed hallucination right now, right?” You ask quietly, the tip of your nose lightly pressed to his. He brushes his lips against yours between words. “You’re serious?”

“As a heart attack,” he purrs, stroking your cheek with his thumb. Despite the ugly fluorescent lights and the dreadful hospital stench all around, you look resplendent in your joy.

He had been right. It was love that you touched him with. It had been subtle, imbued in your every movement, and for months he had soaked it up until, unbeknownst to him, he fell into it as well.

“Trust me when I say you’ll be seeing a lot more of me from now on,” he says, brushing your nose with his.

Maybe instead of tearing them limb from limb, he’ll send flowers to whoever the sorry son of a bitch that rear-ended you this morning was. Who knows how much more time he would have wasted before he realized he was utterly smitten with you.

[paradox-the-unimpressed-nun]

Yoriichi x F!reader Minors DNI 18+

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆ REQUEST ARE OPEN

Summary: You and yoriichi have one main thing in common, you both want a family

Warning: breeding kink, creampie, fluff, vanilla sex, oral sex f!receiving , mentions of a stillborn, spit as lube. Not prof read⚠️

A/N: I just wanted to write a little smut for my dear lil sunshine boy, I'm sorry for the all the smut as of late I've been possessed.(>-•)╦̵̵̿╤─ (⊙⊙). I’ve edited some things from the og so if it’s different from the sneak peak thats why :4.

Yoriichi has never been the best at showing emotions, you’re very aware of this. Many are put off by his lack of expression.

You’ve learned that even though his face doesn’t show any emotion, that doesn’t mean he isn’t feeling anything. In truth he feels a lot, he’s an incredibly sweet and kind man.

The main point of your bounding between you and yoriichi is that you both desperately want a family.

You lost your family just like Yoriichi, of course you talked about other things but the topic of family always snuck it’s face into your conversations.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆

You make your way towards Yoriichi with a tray of of food in your hands. Yoriichi is quietly sitting on your porch, he would have been mistaken for a statue if he didn’t shift his head into your direction.

“Forgive me for taking so long, I thought I had sweat tea but I ended up only having green tea” Yoriichi takes the plate from your hands as you sit down, he returns after your fully seated.

“It is fine, I like green tea” his voice bland a quick as usual. You hand him a cup, you carefully watch him take a sip. You’re worried you somehow managed to mess up the tea.

His face doesn’t change as he finishes his sip. “It’s good” again his voice is bland but you know he actually likes it. There’s a awkward silence between you to, your eyes wander trying to find something to make the mood better.

Your eyes fixate on the tea, picking up your own glass you scoot yourself closer to him. You smile at him “I-I heard that green tea is good for fertility” the smile quickly fades from your face as Yoriichi stares at you.

For once you have no idea what he’s thinking or feeling, he just stares directly into your eyes. Panic washes over you as you believe you’ve greatly upset him. Your face turns a beat red and you stumble out an apology.

“I’m sorry! I didn’t mean it-like that!” You avert your gaze away from him being to embarrassed for the prior statement. Yoriichis gaze slightly softens and he opens his mouth “it’s fine, I know you mean well”.

Your gaze makes it back to his, your heart speaks before your mind. “I….I mean…I just thought..what if you got re married” immediately you mentally slap yourself.

In a conversation you had with yoriichi awhile back you brought up getting re married, you said you were open to the idea of getting re married while yoriichi shut down the thought of re marrying.

You’re already about to spill out another apology but yoriichi cuts you off. “If I got re married then this tea would be quite helpful, I appreciate the thought” he’s voice is different you don’t know how but it is, his voice sounds like a new song to you. Your eyes widen as he entertains the thought of getting re married.

You stare at him, and lean closer to him. Slowly you place your hand on Yoriichis cheek, your heart beat fastens. The world feels almost silent as the only thing your able to hear is the sound of your heart racing. Yoriichi doesn't move neither does his gaze, he carefully watches you.

Now you're inches from his face, you pause and stare into his eyes one last time. Next you connect your lips to his soft and warm ones. Your heart flutters as your lips connect, you feel so loved, beautiful and wanted.

Yoriichi shortly kisses you back wrapping his arms around you in the process. Sliding your arms around his neck you both deepen the kiss. As you both kiss Yoriichi gently moves you onto your back and makes his way on top of you. Yoriichi licks your lower lip asking permission to go inside. You let his tongue in as you wrap your legs around his hips. Both of your tongues dance with each other. You feel as if you're melting into him.

You both were so lost in the kiss neither of you realized your hips were grinding against each other. A bulge formed in Yoriichi pants, he subconsciously grinds his bulge harder into your clothed sex.

Yoriichi pulls away from the kiss -much to your dismay- thoughts race through your mind as you wonder what you did wrong in order to make him stop.

“I don’t want our first time together to be on the floor… Can we move to your room?” As he gets up he grabs your to help you up, he doesn’t let go after. “Yes….I think that would be much more romantic” you respond unsure as what to say.

Hand in hand you walk to your bedroom, you open the door for him and went in. You both sit down on the futon, his lips immediately find themselves back onto yours.

Yoriichi once again pulled away but this time he focused on your neck. He trails kisses upon your neck, gently sucking on your neck. There will defiantly be marks on your neck in the morning.

sneakily his hands find their way to your obi, he slowly unties it. Your obi slips off of you and soon does the rest of your kimono. Leaving you in nothing but your panties. In return you undress him, you’re slow wanting to take in all of his image. It seems you aren’t alone, yoriichi takes this opportunity to also admire your body. Feeling his gaze you instinctively cover your breast and stomach.

He stared at you a little dumbfounded, did he not like you stretch marks? Or was he disgusted with your extra pudge? Thoughts started to run through your mind, Yoriichi seemed to have taken noticed. Yoriichi pulls your hands away from your chest, bringing them to your side. While covering yourself you had left finger marks from squeezing to hard.

He makes his way lower down your body, he places kisses on the marks you left behind. You can hear your heart beat, you believe he can to. His hands sneakily makes it to your breast groping your chest. Taking one of your breast into his mouth and while his hand plays with your harden nipples. His tongue swirls around your buds, the other pinching your nipple.

A loud pop sound comes from him letting go of your chest, he looks up at you and squeezes your breast. “These need to be filled” Yoriichis words go straight to your clit making you somehow wetter than you already were.

Yoriichi lays you onto your back, in the process he grabs your legs. He taps two fingers on your thigh, asking for approval. Turing your head you slowly open your legs, your panties were dampen from your arousal . Shivers run up your spine as he place’s sweet kisses down your inner thigh. He makes sure to be slow, wanting to savor the moment. Finally he makes it to needy cunt. Yoriichi simply moves your panties to the side, he is to hungry to fully take them off. You could feel is hot breath against your clit, you instinctively bump your hips up.

He laps at your cunt, instinctively you close your legs. It’s been so long sense you’ve had someone go down on you, the feeling almost feels foreign. You didn’t even realize what you did until you feel yoriichis hand tap your thigh. Immediately you open your legs back up, your face is red as a tomato. “Sorry!!” You squeak out, turning your head to the side out of embarrassment. “It is fine…” is the only thing he said before closing his lips around your sensitive nub, sucking gently and promoting your eyes to flutter shut.

With one hand you grab his neat ponytail to push his him down further, the other grabbing the futon beneath you. Yoriichi fingers prod at your opening slithering into you. Instinctively you arch your back to get more stimulation. Yoriichi slides in another finger which earns him a sweet moan from your lips. A mixture of your fluids and yoriichis spit drips down his chin. Your once free hand moves to yoriichis ponytail “Yoriichi I’m close!” you moan in-between words. He doesn’t stop. Letting go of the futon you grab his ponytail and force his head down more, arching your back and hips in the process. Yoriichi laps at your clit and his fingers curl inside of you. Your vision goes white as you feel yoriichi lap at your sweet release. Your legs shake as you continue to hold yoriichi in place, panting form your high. It’s been a very long time sense you’ve had an orgasm this amazing. Yoriichi takes the initiative and pops his head up then pushes your hips down.

His gaze meets yours instinctively you turn away your arm covering your blushful face. You’re a little embarrassed that your juices are all over yoriichis mouth and chin. Yoriichi pulls your hips towards his, pulling you out of your thoughts. Somehow you feel hotter. He spits in his hand and rubs his very hard, leaking shaft. See his cock makes your mouth water, it’s just as beautiful as the rest of him. Big with a pretty pink tip, you wished he would’ve given you the time to suck him off, perhaps next time… yoriichi rubs his tip up against your entrance, rubbing it up against your soaking cunt. A grunt comes from him as your warm sticky juices cover his shaft. Anxiety erupts over you, hopefully he won’t find you “to loose”.

With a shaky breath Yoriichi speaks “I’m going to put it in now…” his face his flushed and his briefly look up at yours. All you can do is nod as you eagerly wait for him to finally put it in.

Finally he directs his tip to your entrance, slowly he slides in. Both of you moan at the feeling of one another’s body’s finally connecting. Yoriichi is big but you didn’t expect him to stretch you. He stops waiting for you to adjust to his size, he looks up waiting for your approval.

“Con-continue…please” your speech slow from you trying to calm your breathing. Yoriichi starts with slow thrust, trying to be gentle with you and find your sweet spots. His fingers dig into the meat of your hips, surely it will leave marks in the morning. Yoriichi earns a moan out of you as he brushes a certain spot inside of you.

“Right there! Right there!” You wrap your legs around his hips and hands hold onto his back. Keeping him there not wanting him to lose that spot. Yoriichi thrust more rough hitting that spot that made you see stars again. Heading your sweet moans made him pick up his pace his forehead onto yours.

You earn grunts and wines from yoriichi as you squeeze around him. Your cunt practically sucking him in deeper yearning for more. Each time he hits that spot he yearns a moan of his name from your sweet lips.

Yoriichi kisses your forehead lovingly, each kiss making your heart and cunt flutter. He moves kisses down your nose to your cheek then to your lips. Yoriichi sucks at your bottom lip making your mouth open, he takes this as an opportunity to sneak his tongue back into your mouth. In between kisses both of your moans can be heard. You feel like it’s your first time all over again, completely lost in the others body, sloppily kissing and humping. Yoriichis thrust turns into sloppy grinds wanting to get as deep as possible inside of you. Yoriichi breaks the kiss leaving a trail of saliva running down both of your chins. His eyes make it towards your chest seeing the stretch marks on your breast. Thoughts of you bearing hid children spread through his head, he knew he wanted a family with you but actually being in the moment? Having the opportunity to have the family he always wanted? It made his head spin.

Yoriichi pulls out completely leaving your poor cunt grasping onto nothing, a whine leaves you as the uncomfortable feeling of being empty flushed over you. What happened? What went wrong? Why did he pull out? You were about to ask why but was quickly stopped and yoriichi grabbed under your knee. He pushes your knees to your chest and lines himself back up to your cunt. Yoriichi quickly waste no time and bottoms you out, You scream and the absolute pleasure. He had put you into a mating press, somehow yoriichi feels deeper and bigger. His heavy balls slap against your dripping cunt. Both your juices and his precum slide down your ass onto the once cleaned Funton.

Your nails dig into his back leaving little red marks. You feel a familiar tightness building up in you. Yoriichi seems to be close as well, with that he picks up his pace.

You try desperately to tell him that you’re close but, you can’t seem to be able to forms the words to tell him. Drool drips down you mouth as your completely taken over by pleasure.

Jerking your head back onto the soft pillow that tightness that had been building up finally releases.

Yoriichi fucks you through your sweet organism, somehow going faster before finally stopping hitting his own orgasm. Thick white strings of cum line the walls of your sweet cunt, filling your womb to the brim.

Yoriichis warm cum seeps out of your pussy spilling onto the soiled sheets.

You both stay there for what feels like forever. Enjoying the feeling of one another’s bodies being against each other.

Looking up at yoriichis face he’s completely flushed, sweat drips down his forehead as he looks down at your also flustered self.

Yoriichi he looks at you like he’s just learned how to love all over again.

You don’t want him to stop and it doesn’t seem that he’s planning on stopping anytime soon. As he starts grinding his hips into yours once more.

You pull him down into a kiss, and of course returns the kiss. It’s sloppy and dirty as your tongues intertwined.

This seems to rile him up as he starts fully thrusting into your filled cunt once more.

God you hope the tea thing was true

🍓 I need to go to bed, my eyes hurt from lack of sleep ( ◜◡༎ຶ). Also sorry for all the smut my brain has just been 𓀐𓂸 all week. ALSO! Thank you for 300 followers ya'll are the best (ง ˃ ³ ˂)ว ⁼³₌₃⁼³

🍓edit: I have 700 followers now THANK YOU!!!

🍓UPDATE 2 800FOLLOWERS?!? YALL ARE INSANE

🍓 Update 3 i no longer like this, I’ll make a remake eventually, but I hope this short sweet fic makes y’all happy. I really pushed this off because I’m no longer happy with it. But I finished it. I wanna move on to other things. But expect more fanfic of him. Actually fuck it if enough people want a part two I’ll make a longer smuttier one. Sorry if you didn’t get tagged when u asked by notifications are all full. Also need more fanfic of this man I’m feral.

@ethereal1l @lovelymiraix @yoriichisc0msl4t2 @yoriichis-love @sush1trasher @aweebontheinternet2005 @xiernia @anemoneorc @lovelymiraix @ethereal1l @weebflames @azuriel-kinayoko @lovingyeet @krillfromsky @rjssierjrie @t0miejins @yuyuchann1 @genshinsimpforlif @hyunjinslefteyeball4 @puddingchoo

[rel124c41]

LABORATORY LOVE. jade leech

It makes perfect sense that you are failing potionology, you come from a world without magic! You just wished your failures weren’t the recent entertainment to a certain vice-housewarden.

tags: developing relationship, character analysis, teeth analysis, teasing, potion accidents, 5 + 1 trope, comedy of errors, suggestive themes, & getting together

word count: 21,656

Since the beginning of your impromptu enrollment in Night Raven College, classes have taken your dizzy brain and swirled it around like mixed cake batter. Uncaring of your blunders, the courses march on. You have had multiple professors pull you aside for hush conversations about how: magic might not be something you should be studying; you’re showing great difficulty with this section, my door’s open for extra help; do you have any hobbies, perhaps you should look to pursue one of those. 

You wonder if they knew you were from another world entirely along with being magicless, their tone might change. Compared to others, you were leaps and bounds above where you should be. 

Not that you are aware of your competence. And, even then, it is never enough. Which is admittedly very frustrating. You do not like to be viewed as a failure or incompetent. 

Back at home, you were always on top of your studies, kept yourself afloat on a little canoe. In Twisted Wonderland, your limbs grow fatigue with how harshly you have to tread water to stay afloat. Constantly, you felt ready to drown. You manage to withstand it though, avoiding going under by keeping water a fine line across your chin and bottom lip. 

And, even then, that is never enough.

I. The scarab beetle was added before ginger root when the correct order is ginger root then scarab.

To be fair, you are tired beyond belief. You had to pull off your gloves multiple times to rub sleep out of your eyes. Switching up the order of the ingredients … This is one of the stupider mistakes you have made in Professor Crewel’s class. To be thoroughly fair, the anxiety about your recent situation coupled with sleeping on the uncomfortable spare bed in Leona’s room has been starting to kill your restful nights. 

What a well devised strategy. Chip away at the mental fortitude of a person by taking away physical comforts. Azul Ashengrotto truly knows where to point the arrow notched in his bow. 

You just wish he had chosen anyone other than you.

Yawning, you deposit the comatose scarab beetle into the cauldron. One second it is a black freckle on the gray-blue mixture, and then the next second it has been dissolved down to the bone. It ate it as quickly as acid does, you think awestruck, I’m glad I’m wearing gloves. Said gloved hand holds itself outstretched towards Ace, your lab partner, as you murmur, “Okay, hand me the ginger root now.”

“Huh? I already handed you that though,” Ace says, looking up from the logs of cinnamon he is cutting as instructed.

Usually you two have Grim do the physical labor, cutting up ingredients, while you and Ace uptake harder tasks. However, Grim is not free, called in for an impromptu shift during school hours. Part of you cannot comprehend how that is possible – to work during school – but another part of you cannot comprehend magic, so really the whole globe, this Twisted Wonderland, is incomprehensible. 

An incomprehensible globe where you make friends with the stupidest of the bunch. 

“No you didn’t; you handed me the next ingredient that had to go in.”

“Yeah, which was ginger root. Don’t tell me the fumes in here are making you stupider, Prefect. Your brain fried or something,” Ace asks. He tilts his head in a taunting way that is not effective due to the anemone sprouting from his skull.

“Says the one with the anemone coming out of his brains.”

“Hey! Just because you’re being forgetful doesn’t mean ya get to insult me!”

“Please don’t play smart with me right now. I just need —.” Your words fall out of your mouth as you catch the sight of ginger root sitting pretty on your side of the lab table, untouched and not in the potion. You blank, dumb, until a sudden heat wave washes over you.

Not a blush though you realize as a smoke cloud of brimstone blooms up mushroom-like from your cauldron. Your once squinting eyes widen in fear.

The potion releases a wave of gas as it evaporates away in seconds. It feels like getting punched with heat after opening an oven. As you stand there looking at the bottom of your cauldron, mourning your potion, you suddenly hear laughter in the midst of this new humidity.

“... No — HAHAHA — No fucking way! HAHAHAHAHA!!”

Dread fills you first upon hearing it. Whatever has Ace laughing and pointing at you is definitely not a positive in your book. Sevens above, you are not dealing with being potion-ed cat ears again. It must be something physical on you at very least. Because, Ace has not stopped pointing and bursts out between his bellows, “Now you match the part of looking like an idiot! HAHAHA!”

Annoyance quickly shoves dread to the side. Gut-instinct guides your hand before your brain can catch up. Clutching ginger root, you reel back your arm ready to whack Ace with it until a certain hand shackles your wrist. Shit.

“Ace! (Name)! Once again, this is unacceptable behavior from both of you. Did your parents pick you off the streets and neglect training?” Ah, you recognize those dog analogies anywhere. Curling in on yourself, you turn around to give Professor Crewel a sheepish smile while he keeps your wrist hostage.

“Sorry, Professor Crewel.” 

You would be delusional to think your potionology professor has a soft spot for you; he probably only sees you as a nippy Pomeranian or a Retriever freshly showered in mud. The scowl on his face is something you have come to be familiar with from August to November. 

Crewel sighs, “Luckily, these supplies are not hard to obtain. I’ll be sending both of you to fetch more ginger root and scarabs from the botanical gardens.” His steely eyes aim at you. “And Prefect, I suggest retrieving a hat for yourself. An unsightly look is one step away from a disorganized headspace. Try to be a bit more mindful, pup.”

“Yes, Professor Crewel.”

You have no idea where the fashion advice came from. However, you are not going to dig yourself a deeper hole by asking the Professor what he means by unsightly look and disorganized head. Besides with the way Ace is still biting down a grin, you expect that you will privy to it soon.

“Dismissed.” Professor Crewel sends you on your way.

As soon as you two round the cauldron, you and Ace are both immediately on one another. He grabs the back of your neck as you kick his shin. Idiot! No you’re an idiot! Says the idiot! Ace pinches your cheek as you give him a Chinese burn, grabbing his forearm and twisting it in your grip. I can’t believe you messed that up! At least I’m not signing contracts to cheat! Stumbling to the door, kicking and fighting with each other, you just barely catch the glimpse of Deuce sending a wince of sympathy your way. 

Ace sticks his finger in your ear. His spit-coated touch sends a shiver down your spine. Breaking your whispering, you caterwaul just as you push Ace and yourself out of Crewel’s classroom, “I’m gonna kick you where the sun don’t shine, asshat!” Ace’s cackles are the last thing the classroom hears before the door shuts firmly in place.

The botanical gardens are not somewhere you find yourself often. The mere size of it intimidates you greatly. Plus, it has so many dangerous things lurking inside of it like lion tails, man-eating plants, and carrots that when plucked incorrectly can send you into a coma just from a single scream. For your own growing trepidation, you choose to stay out for safety reasons.

Though splitting up is not your idea, you still concede to it. The guilt over your sleep-addled mistake speeds up your agreement. After all, it was you who switched the order. Thus, you walk around the botanical gardens looking to grab dandelion root (which came before the scarab beetle and ginger root) while Ace gathers a single scarab beetle. 

At least Ace takes up the more perilous task for you. Scarab beetles when provoked flicker on and off in a brilliant light display of red until it explodes. If the mage cannot match the rhythm of beeping reds with the light of their magic pen, the scarab self-destructs. It is hazardous for you to anywhere near an alive scarab. Besides …

Danger finds you like a faithful, old friend.

Standing on the little bridge that curves over the miniature river, danger arrives at your side like a mistress. “So pretty,” someone whispers breathlessly. You choose to ignore this, thinking someone is appreciating the flowers. Pamphlet in hand, you worry your bottom lip and consider which side of the bridge you have to walk down to find the dandelion roots. 

“He-Hello there, Prefect. Quite a nice day for a stroll, don’t you think?”

Caught off guard, you turn to see who is addressing you. It is one of those Octavinelle twins. He holds an empty  jar in his gloved hand. However, you are unsure of which one you are dealing with.

“Ah … yeah,” you twitch as you respond. Where the hell is Ace? You would rather not be alone with a mage that you saw send multiple students to the infirmary only two days ago. You remember it vividly: all the students rushing forward to tear up the contract, as Azul stood on the table, saying with fake direness, “Dear me, I really didn’t want to resort to violence, but alas. Jade. Floyd. Play with them for a bit.”

You shift your eyes away like one might avert the gaze of a stumbling, rabid raccoon. “Sure is … a nice day?” Truthfully, you don’t think you have had one of those in Twisted Wonderland. Your day has just gotten worse in the twin’s presence.

Under the canopy of black walnut leaves and palm washingtonias, you assess all your escape routes. Whichever twin this is, he is looking at you so intensely, eyes half-lidded and the faintest dusting of pink on his cheeks. It takes only a moment for you to realize he is staring at what lies on your head, but you have enough time to map your escape route.

“Well, it was nice seeing you –,” you start, heading down the bridge, in the opposite direction of the Octavinelle twin. You just barely make it a step and a half when he catches you off guard again.

“You have Potionology this period, yes? It is a Wednesday after all.” How the hell does he know that? 

Yet, hearing how he structures his words, you think you finally recognize which one it is … Jade, who had said to you just yesterday, “And if you’re in need of lodgings, feel free to come and speak with us. Reservations for guest rooms in Octavinelle dorm starts at 100 thaurmarks a night.” The last conversation that happened between you two. Eyes pinching down, you think, he’s such an asshat for saying that to you who is very much broke beyond broke.

“Yeah, I do.” You resume your steadyfast escape route. You can clearly hear Jade walk over the wooden bridge, following after you. 

“If my deduction is correct, it seems you have been caught up in the potion accident. What a most unfortunate turn of events; potionology is often a tricky subject for students to grasp.”

Yeah, and without magic or a basic education on this stuff, it’s impossible for me.  You send Jade a wary glance. Now matching strides, you really have no choice but to converse with him or your friends will probably suffer more during their shifts. “Yeah, I messed one up.”

But no one says you have to be verbose during it. 

You ponder on why Jade is so interested in the multiple sea anemones blooming from your head. When your scuffle with Ace finally ebbed, the Heartslabyul student turned on his front-facing camera so you could finally see what made you look like an idiot. A glowing crown of blue sea anemones form around your head.

You cringed, your matching visage on Ace’s phone doing the same. Of course you are not spared any break from humiliation; when you come back to your temporary lodgings, Leona is probably going to laugh up a sandstorm. Ugh … you hate that stupid lion!

Jade says, “I’ve noticed this happens to you frequently. In August, you gained cat ears and could only speak in crying meows. You were deaged down to a toddler on September 14th. Then in October, you underwent a body swap with your friend, Ace Trappola, for a full five days; Thursday through Monday. Am I correct?” How the absolute fuck does he know that?

“...Yeah.”

“You know, Octavinelle is always willing to help those in need. I, myself, can offer –”

“No thanks.” You glance at the pamphlet and take a sharp left turn. Jade follows.

“My, what a harsh rejection. How audacious of you to deny me when I am scheduled to train Deuce and Ace later on tonight. But, I suppose if that is how you feel –”

Begrudgingly, you turn around and frown, “Be easy on them, won’t you? Bye, Jade.” Snapping your pamphlet open wider, you continue on your way. 

What an idiot. You already stuck your neck out enough for them by signing Azul’s contract. Keeping polite conversation with Jade? You could do that. However, you will not take up another deal with Octavinelle anytime soon, unless … well, no, you think to yourself. That hovering ‘unless’ probably won’t happen with Jade. Whatever Jade needs, he can find elsewhere.

Dandelion roots should just be down a little farther; another right turn and you should be upon them. At least that is how your route would have gone if you were not grabbed and spun around by your shoulders. You stare into Jade’s dilated eyes in shock.

“Prefect,” his voice comes out more growl than speech. He soothes his fake humanitarianism voice with a cough and repeats, “Prefect. Just hear me out.” The vice-housewarden almost sounds desperate to keep your attention on him.

“Okay.” You try to ignore the close-lipped smile on his face as you fold up your pamphlet. “Okay.” Dandelion roots are one of the few non-sentient plants in this twisted wonderland, so you can pause your search for Professor Crewel for a mere moment. “I messed up a potion today, but I don’t need your help with it.”

Tutoring … from anyone. You despise the very thought. Before, you were so capable and so independent; now, you have to waver and bend yourself to the assistance of everyone in this alien world. God, you cannot even protect yourself from your day to day. The entire world outscales you like a final boss compared to a NPC.

“Are you absolutely certain? Who knows what kind of misfortune can fall upon you at the hands of a botched potion? Who knows, you could find yourself breathing in poisonous gas or having your intestines turned inside out. What an excruciating sensation.”

A whole body shiver runs down your spine. The fact that that is not out of the realm of possibility makes you loathe your existence in this world even more. Still … “What do you want from me?” … you have Ace and Grim at least making sure you aren’t blown to bits by an exploding cauldron.

“It is just a simple matter of the fungus growing from your head.”

“Fungus?”

Jade’s voice turns so fond that it startles another shiver from you. His lovestruck gaze fastens itself to the apparent mushroom crown sitting on your skull. “Entoloma Hochstetteri mushrooms. The non-scientific name is blue pinkgills.”

Bored and tired, you yawn. Jade glances down at your mouth with pervertish intrigue. It might just be the same amatory he regards the blue pinkgills with staying in his eyes. However, you can imagine him mocking you about having to sleep in Leona Kingscholar’s room so you screw your mouth into a frown.

And, as if reading your body language with ease, Jade offers, “If you are still having troubles with your lodging, I’d benevolently suggest a trade.”

“A trade?”

“A room in Octavinelle, free of charge; all to yourself and your dire-beast for the full two days left in your contract. In exchange, you will give me the Entoloma Hochstetteri blooming from your head. An item for another item. Fair, yes?”

“No.” You straighten your posture. “I want something everlasting; not just temporary satisfaction.”

“Oya? Whatever did you have in mind?”

This is something you have been pondering about for a while. Truthfully, you were considering it your very first week after the encounter with the overblotted creature in the mines. Taking a deep breath, you announce your only term, “I want protection against overblots.”

Jade’s optics grow, dilating and blinking in surprise. It is … simultaneously an extremely well thought out and dumb request. Protection is something you need. But with Jade, someone you barely just met, providing you protection? You neither seem like the type to trust people too quickly or too hold out trust until the very end. 

Immediately on detective mode, Jade tries to figure out your aim. “Overblots are very rare phenomenon. Do you –?” 

“Tell me more about these pinkgills,” you suddenly interrupt, noticing that he is slipping into doubt over this deal.

A hand covers over his erratic heart, and a small sliver of teeth peek through his smile. “Ah, I’d be delighted to. Blue pinkgills are quite mysterious. No one knows if they are edible because no one has dared to try them. There is a peninsula that features them on their currency as well. It is the only country to have a piece of currency featuring a mushroom on it; I’d be delighted to have the opportunity to visit it someday.”

“That’s really interesting. Are they rare to cultivate,” you ask, faking genuine curiosity. 

“Unfortunately, yes. They are native to that one peninsula and thus –”

“Hard to come by? Rare?” 

You supply Jade with the words he is looking for. Subtly, you remind him of the fact these limited mushrooms are just a person’s deal away. The blue halo on your head becomes more and more enticing to Jade by the second. Blue that also bleeds with the color, such a psychedelic hue that almost hurts to look at.

You look like an angel under it … You? Jade hesitates at his train of thought; that is not the conclusion he thought his mind would go to. 

“What a surprise fufu; you are not as brainless as I intentionally presumed, (Name).” Smitten emotion slowly drains from his dual-eyes as he takes in your visage whole, not just the prize hanging above your head.

This is good. Jack could protect me but he is only a first year mage. Ace and Deuce do a good enough job. Grim is only food motivated. Jade did send multiple students to the infirmary by himself. This – “I’m glad to prove such an intelligent mage such as yourself wrong. It’s the first time I have ever done so.” – This is good. This deal will keep me alive and safe.

Jade shakes the hand you have offered up to him. However, before you can end the contact, he yanks you towards him. A groan of pain bleeds from you as you are pulled chest to chest with him. Chin pinched skyward by his other hand, you look into two halos, one gold and the other umber.  

Right away, you clock it as an intimidation tactic, so you do not let yourself appear frightened. Compared to those overblots you faced … 

“However, it would not be fair if I did not receive something everlasting as well. Not just temporary satisfaction.”

Subtle eyes dart around the botanical gardens, trying to find Ace, but halos are all you see. “Okay, what do you want on your end?”

“It is quite common for you to find yourself caught up in the misfortune of a poorly made potion. I want to be there – to watch you struggle and to watch you be powerless. That is all you need to give me.”

“I … I can do that.”

“Then, it’s a deal.”

When you met Jade officially in the cafeteria, you picked up his subtle habit of bringing his hooked index finger up to his mouth before he could smile too wide. When meeting with Azul in the VIP Room, he was very subdued and subservient unlike his twin, listening instead of laughing and nodding along instead of nagging vexed. Now when making a deal with the vice-housewarden, you find yourself peering through a tear in the fabric that envelops him day to day.

For the first time ever, you get to see Jade smile with all his teeth. They curl down and up, reminding you almost of cat claws, with an acute sharpness in each individual tooth. They ensnare you.

II. Your basilisk's egg was not incubated at the correct temperature of 2300 degrees fahrenheit.

Your basilisk’s egg is colder than the collective’s by many, many degrees. Honestly, you blame this one on Professor Crewel for not putting the much needed comma between the two and the three; it was completely natural of you to assume 230 degrees fahrenheit was correct when 2,300 is an outrageous temperature. Regular incubators in your world could not even reach that level of heat!

When you cracked the unfertilized eggs of a serpent king into the cauldron, you sheepishly noticed how much lighter the shade of red yours is compared to others. Almost the pink of a flamingo’s feathers, not red like cranberries, not red like everyone else’s. 

Already too late though; the pink-hued yolk has already sludged into the cauldron. Gravity, such a conniving bastard. You can only watch helplessly as impact is made; the eggshell in your hand is now empty. 

Then, all the liquid in your cauldron rises up like a geyser. 

“Woah!” 

“Holy shit!”

“(Name)!”

Ducking behind your hands, you yell back at Ace, “I didn’t!” That is all you get out before the potion shower lands all over you. You spit out what got into your mouth, “mean to … bleh!”

Magenta sludge drips off your uniform in thick plopping sounds. It is the consistency of a milkshake and you shiver when you realize some has definitely gone down the back of your shirt. 

“Why are both of you clean,” you whine, disassembling the poorly made umbrella your hands made. They drop away from your temple, coated in magenta. Shaking the potion off your gloves, you frown at seeing how both Ace and Grim are unaffected by the geyser that just drenched you. The clumps of potion in your hair make your frown evolve into a grimace.

Grossed out at the sight of you, Ace winches and waves around his magic pen. “Used-a protection spell. Dude, you look ridiculous, haha. Doesn’t that burn?” 

“No, it’s oddly really cold.” 

Definitely the consistency and temperature of a milkshake. You strip yourself of your gloves, carefully folding them inside out. “Ugh, this is going to take forever to wash off.” You do not even know which part of your body to start shaking off like a dog. Your one good lab-coat and your one good uniform, ruined and presumably stained.

An alert shiver zigzags up your spine, and you turn around just in time to see Professor Crewel come out of his horrified stupor. 

As he stands up from his desk, you get this overwhelming urge to run away. You have to physically focus on planting your feet down so this psoriasis itch does not cause you to turn tail and flee. It’s my fault, so I need to accept punishment. Unconvinced by your self-loathing, your body shakes in jitters, ready to rush out of the room should mental resistance let up.  

You are unaware of it, but those emotional cactus pricks of needing to run away from danger will follow you all day long today.

Once finally released from Crewel’s classroom — you had to scrub down everything from the floor, use the emergency shower to peel sludge out your hair, and are given the briefest pat of sympathy on the shoulder — you run into Ace on his way to his club meeting. Is it really that late, you think. Grim left to attend all your other classes, skimping out on the cleanup that was ‘so not his fault! see ya!’ Now you wander, weighing if you should go to Octavinelle first or Ramshackle first. Find Grim or Find Jade?

“Can I join ya,” you ask as you slot yourself next to Ace in the hallway. If Floyd is at practice, you might be able to ask him where Jade is which ends the search for one person. However, it a mute point when you realize:

“It’s kinda a coin-toss if Floyd shows up or not,” Ace responds to your question, both of you standing in the doorway of the gymnasium. Where’s Floyd was what you had asked. Diligently, you search the crowd now. With his height he should be easy to spot; you worry your bottom lip with your teeth. There is really no way you can contact Jade as you do not have his number or know his schedule.

What an asshat. You bet Jade just loves the idea of you squirming around to find him. While he can descend on you like a vulture without any forewarning with his sixth sense for entertainment, you have a harder time locating him. 

Without any warning, you suddenly sidestep away from Ace. The redhead raises an eyebrow curiously before his expression drops in shock. In the spot where you were standing, Floyd trips and hits the ground hard.

“Woah!!” You and Ace shout in unison. 

On the ground, Floyd has the same expression of shock that you two do. Though, it slowly morphs to sadness as he rubs the back of his skull. Seated on the gymnasium floor, rubbing his bruise, Floyd grumbles sullenly, “Why ya do that, Shrimpy? I just wanted to squeeze ya. Haven’t seen you all December.”

Ignoring that, you ask, “Floyd, do you know where Jade is?”

“Ya wanna see Jade?” That relights the eel’s energy. He smiles like he knows something you don’t – which is probably a lot of things, considering where you come from and where you are. “Sure, I’ll take ya. I wasn’t feelin’ basketball practice anyways.”

So, thus you end up following Floyd and Ace like a duckling. Thinking to yourself that this will have to be what happens more in the future. Find someone who knows where Jade is, glue yourself to his side after you messed up a potion, conclude a trail of test runs that borderline on torture. Yet … it is worth it to some extent. 

Vividly, you recall each instance where Jade Leech put himself between you and your faithful friend, Danger. He protected you with a variety of spells the first years have not learned yet in NRC’s curriculum. It really is a valuable deal. 

After Azul Ashengrotto’s overblot, talk between you and Jade has been sparse. It is not like the two of you are going to become friends. A mouse does not become buddy-buddy with a cat. There will never be mutualism between the two species.

Your train of thought slowly ebbs when you realize Floyd, Ace, and yourself are nearing up on Jade. Floyd seems to be crouching forward, in a way that you assumed he did earlier when trying to ambush and scare you at the gym’s entrance. This should be interesting, seeing if Floyd could succeed in getting the jump on his twin. At least it would have been if you didn’t feel like a sword sliced down your spine, spreading heat all over the planes of your body.

“Shit!” You shriek, rushing and bumping into Floyd, seconds before someone yells:

“Hey! Look out!”

In the exact spot you were standing, a framed portrait makes a crashing descent. Well, it would have been crashing if not for a lilac spell wrapping itself around the portrait. Quick and alert, Jade holds out his magic pen, levitating the talking portrait while you and Floyd gather your bearings.

“Geez, Shrimpyyy, what was that for,” Floyd groans, rubbing his arm with a sour look. “You’ve been more like a jumpin’ fish than a shrimp. All skittish and squirmy.”

“I’m sorry, I just felt – Jade, cut it out!”

It is not that Jade is doing anything particularly mischievous. However, when the spell rotates the portrait to face you instead of with its back facing all of you, a shiver that is painful and palpable burns all your pores. The portrait is of a lich, rotted gray skin with curling yellow horns and piercing red eyes.

The voice that comes from the portrait sounds like dark corners of a dangerous night. “What are you mortals looking at?”

Run away, each branch of the nervous system agrees in unison. Terrified, you push off Floyd and rush behind Jade, innately remembering he is supposed to protect you. 

“Wh-What are you doing, (Name)?” Ace asks, glancing at you in confusion. 

The Horned King seems just as skeptical towards you. Jade, raising a perfect eyebrow, looks back at your cowering form and the portrait. 

You can see all the calculations erasing, rewriting, and improving themselves in his head. His million and one hypotheses about the world around him.

“Hm, this is curious,” Jade murmurs just as the person who dropped the portrait calls out:

“My bad man. Stupid spell.” Over the railing of the stairwell, the student setting up the portraits sends you all an apologetic look. Then, noticing the nefarious grin on the vice-housewarden’s face, says quicker, “I’m so sorry about that!”

“Nonsense, I think this has caused an interesting revelation.” Slowly, Jade levitates the portrait up to the student who is very skittish to carry it on with his own spell. “Prefect, how do you feel right now?”

“I don’t know how to describe it … Like a bunch of fire ants just crawled on my skin and bit me all at once.”

“Seems you do know to articulate your thoughts.”

“You’re a pain in the ass, Jade.”

He smiles as if you have just complimented him. “Did you mess up a potion beforehand?”

Your eyes squint in suspicion. “Yeah, I uncooked my basilisk egg. How did you know I messed one up though?”

“Simply an observation. I think the potion causes you to have a heightened sensitivity to danger. You knew when danger was coming and rushed away from it. Foresight?”

“I suppose, who knows,” you say, watching the portrait like a bunny in a burrow might watch a predator, waiting for it to slip away to another area. Tension ebbs from you as the other student takes it and begins his task of rearranging them. You step out of the protective shadow of Jade Leech.

“Who knows,” you repeat, intrigued. “Maybe if I mess up a potion like this again, I can call our deal off. I won’t need your help.” A smile comes up to your face, imagining yourself independent.

Jade only scowls. You wonder whatever for but —

“What did you do to mess up the potion, (Name)! Please, I need it! This would be like an alarm for whenever Riddle’s nearby! I could get away with so much!” Ace squeezes your shoulders with a bruising intensity. 

Ripping yourself from him, you stumble back. A soft ‘ow’ parts your mouth when you collide with something, spine to chest. Jade’s gloved hands come down upon your shoulders unexpectedly, pinning you in place. “Basilisk eggs are a delicacy. They aren’t hard to obtain but they are certainly pricey. However, if you are ever serious about your inquiry, Ace … Azul’s office is always open to help.”

It seems that Ace’s sense of danger is alive and well too, for he takes several steps back at Jade’s words. “Well … when you put it like that, heh. I suppose I’m alright.” His eyes shift to the hold Jade has on your shoulder, not shaken off or side-stepped.

“But you were so eager before.” Jade frowns, putting on an act. He looks awful sorry to see Ace skirter away like a crab poked by sticks at the beach. It is a mere masquerade.

“Naah, I’m good. Have fun, (Name)!”

“Ha-Have fun?!” You sputter indignant. 

But Ace has already left with Floyd in tow. Basketball practice waits for no man. Left alone in the hallway, you shudder in the delicate embrace of a dangerous predator. 

“Have fun … what an appropriate saying.” Jade leans down over you with a smile. You should have known from that smile alone it was going to be bad. And it proves to be bad! Because, of course, it has to do with mushrooms again.

Jade takes you hiking. Apparently, his club starts around the same time as Floyd, and Jade is nothing but meticulous about schedules. So, you are going to be alone in the mountains with Jade … it does not take a magical potion to know that it is a new episode of a true crime podcast waiting to happen.

You tell the three Ramshackle ghosts if you do not come back to treat Grim kindly as you zipper up the hoodie Jade said you would need. The knock on your building’s door sends a shiver down your spine that burns. Like a lightning bolt of prickling pain that makes each pore tingle with fire. You are starting to regret this contract.

“So what exactly am I going to be doing?” You ask Jade as you two make your way down a beaten trail. A heightened sense of danger seems quite trivial for a walk in the woods.

“I was rolling the traits of the potion over in my head,” Jade says, his back to you as he leads the way. “And I was thinking, what a perfect opportunity to unearth the mystery of blue pinkgills.”

“What do you mean?”

“No one has gathered up the courage to test if they are poisonous or not. Being poisoned is an obvious endangerment to a body’s health, don’t you agree?”

“You can’t be serious.” His back never turns. “Jade, no way!”

The smile in his voice is palpable as he teases, “I am only joking. After your potion wore off, the blue pinkgills you gifted me decayed instantly.”

You breathe a short-lived sigh of relief. “However, that doesn’t mean your potion can’t be utilized on this hike.”

“I’m not going to eat a single mushroom.” You vow.

“Nothing of the sort. The hypothesis I want to test out is a bit different.”

Hypothesis? This relationship via contract is akin to a type of scientist’s experiment. Before you can think about the roles of yourself and Jade, your entire body is engulfed with a terrible sense of burning like each particle suddenly was torn in two. It is an appropriate reaction when you realize an entire uprooted tree is rocketing towards you with high-speed velocity. 

“Shit!” You shriek. That is far as your body stays your own. Each atom of the muscular system is possessed by the potion. The potion puppets your body and you find yourself successfully leaping over the horizontal tree-trunk. One hand plants itself on the wood; your legs bunch up to your stomach and then you are catapulting yourself over a log. 

When you plant yourself on the opposite side, feet landing perfectly, your gaze hardens into a glare. “What the hell, Ja–!” An uprooted bush tries to ambush you. Shrieking, the potion puppets all but your fearful vocal cords.

“Now, let’s see,” Jade muses, waving his magic pen. His gold and olive eyes study you. “If I attack from both the front and the back, does it react simultaneously?”

“Jade!”

“Excellent, it does,” Jade celebrates with a sadistic gleam in his eyes.

So, thus it begins. Your first real experiment with Jade and he is throwing an entire forest at you. Frantically, your body jumps and leaps out of the way of roots that try to sweep your legs and rocks that try to cut your arms. You even do a front flip to avoid a particular rock being thrown at you. You don’t know how to do flips unless on a trampoline! Nine of our ten times, you land on your butt performing them; yet, on solid ground you just completed your first front flip on land. Precise yet abusive, your body is puppeted by the potion and Jade’s ministrations. 

If you had known you were going to be attacked, you would have never chosen Jade as your protector.

Suddenly, in the hurricane of foliage and earth, all it changes track and aims away from you. Each individual part – rock, tree branch, colt of dirt, flower and mushrooms – splits. Ignoring your body, the hurricane slips behind you in a frenzy. Wind magic maneuvers your hair in the same direction of all that flying fauna. Then, a fist is in front of your face. 

Your body does not dodge. Rather, it plants itself like stone, sensing all the danger is gone.

You hear all the uprooted discord crashing behind you. Each rock lands like a meteor into the ground, tree branches nosedive down like crashed airplanes, and flowers are shredded apart like brittle paper. It is like when the hatch of a truck’s cargo bed opens on the highway, everything crashing yet the front seat is all calm. All is calm besides the paused fist inches from your nose.

Jade’s leather gloves. The ridges where leather sits to make the indents and folds of his knuckles. You are not graced much time to analyze the sight, to analyze the fist that most certainly would have broken your nose into a bloody pulp.

Deliberately, Jade straightens out. A lot of momentum had been used when rushing towards you, aiming his gloved fist like a tracking missile. Unraveling himself from his crouching position slowly, his dual-colored eyes fix you with an intrigued look. He withdraws his fist to rest by his side. “Hm.”

Now that everything is tranquil, you realize how ragged your breath is as you question back, “Hm?”

“The spell did not have you jump out of the way when I went to attack you. Perhaps it could not differentiate between all the foliage around and a person.” The same hand, that would have swirled up all your nasal tendons and bones into some crude red salad, moves to rest quizzically under his chin. 

Chest pounding, you spit out, “I don’t get it.”

A diagram blooms by the left side of Jade’s head. Despite your words not being an invitation to explain, he does deliberately like you are some foolish student. Like you are someone stupid. He is probably using some elementary magic too, two figures, one red and one blue, appearing from the simple spell. “It is quite simple,” he says slowly.

Asshat, you think.

“Since your botched potion has increased your sense of danger, I decided to test what kind of variables would get a reaction from you.” On the diagram, the red figure has wormlike lines squirming out of its head. 

“I threw a wide variety at you: clumps of dirt, mushrooms, tree branches to whole trees, even the smallest flowers you would dodge.” In the hand of the blue figure, a gold ring has surrounded his fist and crude drawings of all that Jade listed start to throw themselves at the red figure. Wildly panicked, the red figure hops and twirls around to avoid everything. “However,” Jade continues, a frown forming.

“When I added myself to the mix,” the blue figure suddenly appears in front of the red figure, posed like a superhero about to punch through an impenetrable wall, as all the crude drawings of rocks and trees clatter to the diagram’s ground, “I anticipated the usual reaction,” the red figure finds itself in comatose, “the reaction changed though. You didn’t move. In fact, you stood there almost confidently.”

By now, you finally manage to get your breathing under control. With your first solid breath, the diagram of magic starts to flicker into nothing. Crossing vexed arms, you hypothesize aloud, “Perhaps it has already worn off.”

Electricity sparks harshly on your nape; a sudden thought forms. Move your head right now, your bones and flesh say in unison. Involuntary, your neck tilts until your left cheek collides with your shoulder. A whooshing sound darts past your ear. You watch stunned as the bullet-esque rock Jade controls with magic buries itself into a nearby tree. As if it was fired from an assault rifle!

“An incorrect assumption; you are still responding so we’ll rule that thought out.”

The adrenaline that keeps you docile, almost sedated like a syringe-given drug, slowly drains from your body. Your typical attitude resurfaces and – “You –!” A skirmish between shock and anger pulls your face into a constipated look. “You could have killed me! What if that went through my head!”

“Please,” he tuts with pretend exasperation, thoroughly amused at your reaction. “I’m a capable mage who has mastered many tricks. Losing control on something as tiny as a pebble is never going to happen. Besides, I am to not harm you or risk losing my entertainment.”

Like you would believe that. Which you tell him, stomping your foot and pointing an acute nail at him, “Like I have any reason to believe a grand lie like that! I think you’d laugh over my injured body if you got the chance. You know what, Jade? Deal off! I’m not going to be used like a lab rat.”

Having said your piece, you whirl on your feet. There is a lot of debris and a fallen tree or two … no more accurately ripped and thrown tree or two you will need to climb over, but you are going back to Ramshackle. Tucked in a safe bed, letting this potion shed from your system, that is where you are going to. If only your wrist was not grabbed.

Shouldn’t I have yanked my wrist away before he could touch me, you think, glancing up from the point of contact into a pair of deplorable eyes. Who the hell does he think he is, batting you with sharpened paws as you squeak and scurry back and forth in a rodent panic. 

The cat keeps his teeth hidden as he says, “Now, let’s not be so rash. After such a strenuous exercise, the natural course of action is to stop and replenish yourself; not exert yourself more by taking a long, long walk back to the school. I’ll prepare something for us.”

You yank your wrist back. “No way – what you want me to eat those mushrooms; help you identify which one is poisonous or not? You’re sadistic.”

“I have been called worse. However, must I remind you what you stand to lose if you call off our contract?” Your feet pause in their retreat but you dare not turn around. “It would be most unfortunate if this ends so early too.” 

Part of you imagines how his face splits into a grin like those shapeshifters in old horror movies, splitting a jagged line across his features; perhaps he even tilts his head seductively to the side so the sunlight catches his enamels in a perfect way; you know from tone alone his smile must be the cat who got the cream.

Which is why when you turn around, you keep your eyes focused on his knees – trying to avoid looking at the thigh straps of his outfit. You almost feel a bit patronized when Jade says, “If anything happens to be poisonous, I had some Ipecac medicine on me.”

You try your best to not look so sad and slouched when you follow Jade.

From the impromptu clearing where trees were ripped up, or perhaps it was all planned down to last detail even this intentional clearing, Jade unloads his backpack. He sets down this small, portable grill table, unfolding the legs to stand upright. Miniature chairs for two with a pine green and sea green triangle patterns are propped upright. Exceptional care is taken when he removes his blue jacket and white hoodie, leaving himself in a black turtleneck. 

Just how strong is the guy, you wonder, watching him pull out of this out of a seemingly bottomless backpack. It is only when the hoodie is gone that you get the answer. The sharp curvatures of his biceps are visible because the turtleneck is so tight. A hormonal part of you squeaks in fear like a mouse.

You busy yourself with poking the fire Jade has started in the grill’s belly-like canopy. Whatever chunks of logs were thrown at you now stir under your ministries, distracting yourself from the man of the hour. As you prod with your lone stick, Jade starts to prepare your shared meal.

“So, why do you think it happened?”

“Hm?” Jade looks up from the kebab stick in his hand.

“Why do you think I didn’t move when you went to punch me?”

“Ah,” Jade adds another mushroom to his equally odious, fungi version of Vlad Tepes’s impalment displays, “I have several running theories. Though I most strongly attribute it to confusion.”

 “I quite understand what a fist in my face means.”

Jade laughs. “I’m glad but rather I am hypothesizing that it was confusion over me, the flesh I’m in.”

“That makes no sense; I definitely react to people. I reacted to Floyd, and you and him are cut from the cloth.”

“Yes, however there were many variables in the air. As a result, the possibility that the potion saw me as an outlier is not so far-fetched. You were so focused on all the soil and rocks; thus, you ignored me.”

“But the potion reacts to impending danger or whatever is trying to harm me. And I totally see you as a danger.”

“How kind of you.”

“Ugh!” You push the logs more aggressively and fire pops in bigger bursts.

“You reacted to Floyd just fine. When the talking portrait fell, you side-stepped. However, these were all separate instances and not together.”

You consider this, face scrunching. Jade does have brilliant deductive skills; now contemplating it, it is not so far-fetched like he said. Perhaps the potion can only react to living things and similarly only react to non-living things. Yet when Jade grabbed your wrist … you start to ponder on that … but your thoughts disintegrate when Jade starts to fill the grill-plate with his mushroom kebabs. 

“I’m not eating those.” Your face keeps that scrunched up expression. 

“While not equal to red meat, mushrooms still are a good source of protein. Truly, after your little squabble with nature, I think you might find you quite enjoy these.”

“Not a chance in Hell. They don’t look appetizing at all.”

“Have you ever had them before?”

“No but —.”

“How will you know you don’t like them if you never try them?”

How annoying; Jade sounds like every adult you ever met in your life. Really, you are fixated on wearing this scrunched look like a model with the latest trends. Nose wrinkled and brow furrowed, you look down at the arrangement of your presumed next meal. “I’m just a picky eater. You don’t have a sandwich in that bag of yours?”

“Afraid not,” Jade apologizes without an apologetic expression. “I find relying on nature to remind me of home; a hunt is a hunt no matter whether below or above.”

“So you must have some berries on you or something,” you deduct, trying to find yourself an out.

“Afraid not.” Again, this is said very unapologetically. “Though you are most welcome to wrangle yourself a worm out of the ground. Maybe that potion will help you locate a squirrel that you can overpower.”

“You’re lucky you don’t have this potion on you, or else you could sense my foot’s about to hit your crotch.”

“So violent,” Jade smiles behind the fist which curls up to his mouth, “Please, I implore you: try.” Now he is just teasing you instead of being malicious. 

You punch the side of his thigh then go back to observing. There is a decent char on each mushroom now that is more a golden brown than a deep caramel brown. 

“You know, if you brine and deep-fry gray oyster mushrooms, they take on the texture of fried chicken. The taste is similar enough when a simple illusion spell can get the pickiest eater to try them.”

“Don’t even think about it.” Your spine pricks with that familiar, forbidding sense.

“Oh no, you misunderstand.”

Jade says before he starts leaning in to regale you with a story of how he managed to trick Azul their freshmen year to eat mushrooms for five months straight. Azul’s comfort food almost ruined evermore. It is odd to see such a mélange of fondness and sadism on a person’s face but Jade wears it well.

Eventually, you are graced with other food: grapes that Jade has in his backpack. Apparently there are some ducks a little ways down the hiking trail that Jade feeds. They aren’t the type to hibernate or fly south for the winter, the Twisted Wonderland version of mallards. Excited, you implore him to show you them as it is only right after tormenting you so, paying you back for the maltreatment.

He says you need to raise your price for torment or else the entire school will abuse you, but he takes you to the ducks all the same. 

III. The measurement for Eastern bat’s blood was off by 1.5 ounces. 

“Usually when you hold out a hand, there is something in it to offer up,” Jade says analytically. In front of him, your right hand is outstretched.

This world really is out to get you. Not only are you fumbling along in a university that requires a knowledge of foreign, elementary knowledge and has an entrance exam people only pass with Willy-Wonka-ticket luck, but the units of measurements are completely alien to you. Incorrectly, you drained your Eastern bat for half a second too short. Blame can always be pinned on Ace just shrugging when you showed him the beaker; Jade probably will tut and tell you to uphold responsibility. 

So, facing him now empty-handed, you say sullenly, “I messed up a potion.” You try your best to ignore the absolute glee that overtake Jade’s features. “You … The effects when … Well, just take off your glove, touch my hand, and you’ll see.” 

Today is going to suck majorly. Part of you cannot comprehend what odious, monstrous things Jade Leech will do with. Your foresight with him really needs improving; Octavinelle’s vice-housewarden is an enigmatic mystery to you. When flesh mets flesh, the touch of it stings you like a jellyfish. 

His hand is nicely manicured you observe. Just an appropriate enough free edge of the nail to be unamusing yet secretively sharp if need be. His nails won’t cut you up into ribbons without speed and force. It is also a cold hand that feels like resting your cheek on silk when feverish.

Must be because he is cold-blooded and winter is still being stubborn. Taking a deep breath, you look at Jade who is looking intently at you with intrigue. “Was this just an excuse to hold my hand? How quaint, Prefect,” Jade teases when nothing extraordinary eye-catching happens.

Shouldn’t he know to observe the subtleties? You decide to embarrass yourself further by answering, “Just be patient and observe.” Then, hands still stacked upon one another, you turn a bit towards the open hallway you had stopped Jade in.

As the nominated test subject, you had drank the potion when Crewel instructed you to in potionology. Nothing happened and you were given an F. Then, humiliated in front of the class, you realized later that the potion’s intended effects were skewed slightly.

It had taken a lot of trial and error to realize the effects of the potion when first infected. Upset at Ace for not thoroughly reading the measurements, you had taken him by the shoulders and shaked him. In retaliation, he took your cheeks and squished them together to cut off your bemoans. You pinched his cheek in retaliation and then Grim suddenly caterwauled that you two had … disappeared?

Like you said, it took a lot of trial and error. You experimented with Grim, Deuce, and Ace outside the hallway in the main yard. Seeing if it worked skin to fur, seeing if the effects lasted after a quick high five, and figuring out it took a constant touch between two to work but did not work on a third touch.

Now, you have to explain to Jade that both of you are under an invisibility potion that is skewed. So you demonstrate by reaching out and slapping the nearest student across the face. It takes you a while to sum up the courage, the crowd swimming past you. Jade almost grows impatient and tries to retract his hand. Yet at the moment, you remember Schönheit’s face. It feels so satisfactory after being pushed around all the fucking time (especially during VDC) to watch the Pomefiore student stumble in shock. Your hand stings pleasantly.

Jade flinches in surprise and you quickly squeeze his hand tight. Having the contact break after striking a random student is not ideal. 

Background Pomefiore student – you decide his name is C – holds his flushing cheek and whirls around, head on a swivel. He finds no culprit. “Hey! … did you just – Um … Who did,” C’s hair shakes back and forth with his frenzied head turn, “Someone … Someone just hit my beautiful face!”

Behind you, watching C with you, Jade starts to chuckle. The knuckle of his left hand comes up to his lips as he fruitlessly tries to cork laughter. Then, inhibition escaping him, he is suddenly laughing like an amused teen instead of some super villain. His shoulders bounce in time with his mirth.

“I see,” he says a bit breathlessly after his laughing fit. “We are under a potion of invisibility.” His eyes track the Pomefiore student. “A potent one too if that student was not able to even sense us.”

C has already left so you release Jade’s hand slightly, still keeping them sandwiched on one another. “Exactly. Unfortunately, it only works with skin to skin contact. We were supposed to brew something that turned a person invisible but this one requires a second body.” 

For a moment, Jade’s eyes burn with a dangerous intrigue. Dread fills you like a river. Part of you surmises that you will not be able to predict what malicious actions he will have the two of you perform to terrorize the entire school. As if wanting to pry your ribcage open, Jade repeats your explanation to make sure he has all the available information, “So no one can see us or hear us as long as we touch?”

You shrink away at the dangerous lilt in his voice, so Jade takes to interlocking your fingers together. “Yeah, that’s the basics of this potion.” You look at your interlocked fingers as if they are a threading nest of rattlesnakes instead of fingers embracing.

“How quaint. Typically invisibility potions and spells are traceable through the wisps of magic they leave behind. Perhaps that side-effect is neutralized because you are magicless.”

“Maybe … I don’t really know.”

“Hm,” Jade studies your desolate look. “Let us be on our way then.”

“Wait!” You dig your heels into the ground. “Where are we even going?”

“To my dormitory. I need to retrieve some supplies before we utilize this potion’s potential.”

“Wait!” You dig your heels into the ground. “Why can’t we just interlock elbows!”

Finally, that seems to reel Jade out of his steadyfast mission to bring you to some second location. Gold and umber eyes glance down to your intertwined fingers. The bridge of repeating Zs which the heat from you and him met together. His hold is not so outrageously tight where you have no choice to stay.

“It would be most unfortunate if you were to slip and lose your grip. With a tighter hold like this,” he readjusts your contact to passive hand holding, your fingers unlocking from one another, “I’m assured that we will not break contact.”

“I guess that makes sense.” You … mourn? that you no longer get to hold his fingers equally in yours. But you asked for interlocking elbows. You grimace. “... Hey! Why do you say that like I’d trip! You could trip too.”

“With all the trouble you stumble into, it would be imprudent of me to not prepare for you falling in the literal sense. Do not worry though; I will be there to catch you.”

“Who says I want you to catch me? Hell, I think you’d catch me, only to fake out, and then drop me a second later.”

“Fufufu, I wouldn’t be so sure.”

“Ugh, don’t smile like that.”

So, doubly regretful and relieved that your hand-holding formation got a new look, you allow yourself to be dragged off to Octavinelle. This you could probably achieve without hand-holding but you like the secrecy. Plus, you got to flip off Riddle Rosehearts and Leona Kingscholar without repercussions. Eventually, Jade steers you towards the bedrooms located in Octavinelle. Wholly relying on him, you give him a withered olive branch of trust to not torment or abuse you too much. 

“Do you share a room with someone,” you ask as Jade lets go of your hand. The door to his dorm is closed currently, so secrecy lives on. Your eyes are glued to the opposite side that Jade did not walk towards. 

“My brother and I signed up for a double dormitory in middle school.”

“Makes sense,” you say. Sheets scrunched up, shoes and crumbs peppered all over the place, and a horrible sense of cleanliness? You doubt Jade would put up with this from another else but his brother. 

Attention drifting, you turn and watch Jade shift through a thick binder on his desk. He takes it from this apparatus of gold that sits on his neat desk. Teal with golden edges, it is one of three heavy binders. Seriously, the thing is at least a good eight inches thick with papers. “What’s that?”

The smile on Jade’s face tells you that is either going to regale or inform you about something sinister. Each sharp, serrated edge gleams like secrets spoken under candlelight. Though gloveless, his hand still perches under his chin. That tunnel of fangs opens. “Simply some information I have had to collect for Azul. It dates all the way back from our first year, down to Orientation Day. Would you like to see?”

Curiosity kills the cat; too bad you are more like the lab rat. Your eyes drawn down to the now open binder thoroughly intrigued. “Wouldn’t Azul be pissy at you for showing someone such valuable information?”

“Perhaps. But, I thought you disliked each housewarden with a vengeance.” Seeing you are still unconvinced, Jade assuages your worry, “All this information I have collected painstakingly by myself. It is under my jurisdiction who I choose to share it with.”

“And that just happens to be me,” you ask, anticipating some catch. Still, you shuffle over to the desk quite eagerly. “What do you get out of showing me this?”

“Just the pleasure of seeing you squirm.” 

“Ha. Ha.” You laugh dryly. Electing to ignore that little comment, you turn your attention towards the binder’s pages. 

Painstakingly proves to be an appropriate way to describe how detailed the pages are. Reports upon reports of different students stare at you, even with photographic identity in the top corners. It looks more like a report on prisoners than something a student has made. As you flip through, you do spy dates from last year. The margin of notes detail a number of things: past deals made with Azul Ashengrotto, a list of allergies, schedules of classes for each individual student, and a few have their Unique Magics column filled (which you have been told most mages keep those specific spells very private). Some students even have a column labeled Weaknesses on them. 

“God, this is,” you say awestruck. You flip through some more. In alphabetical order, Bucchi, Clover, and Diamond are the ones you recognize first. You wonder if at the beginning there is a section detailing Al-Asim too. The absolute punctiliousness of Jade has some students taking up ten to fifteen pages. “This is –”

“Terrifying?” Jade incorrectly supplies the word.

Attention finally broken from the binder, you look up at Jade who is leaning into you slightly. There is an unreadable iota of something in his eyes. Was he hoping to scare you away? “No, not at all.”

“You’re not off put?”  

“I’m more impressed by it. I mean, I know how Night Raven College is now. Trust me; been pushed around since day one by students and the classes. This … This is what you have to do to survive here.” You overlooked the page you are on, some random Ignihyde student with a D surname. “I don't, however, think sunlight is an allergy.”

“Trust me,” Jade takes your hand, “for students of that dorm, you would be convinced otherwise.”

“So, what are you going to do with this?”

“We are going to be adding to it.”

So, that is how you and Jade spend your day. Trekking through the hallways of Night Raven College and sometimes even walking unnoticed through certain dorms, you both collect information on students. Filling in the blanks in Jade’s sheets and dating new, unexpected information that you happen to stumble upon. 

It is fairly entertaining. Yours and Jade’s preferences towards entertainment are obviously different, but … this is fun. Jade keeps it fun. Initially, you thought intel gathering would be dull and tedious like bird watching, bidding time for a certain student to let something slip. Somehow, you find yourself stifling chuckles that no one could have heard anyways.

This impromptu espionage is much better than how you would have originally spent your afternoon. Leaning into Jade (just to make certain you stay physically touching) you joke about all the embarrassing scenes you two stumble upon. Night Raven College students really are magnets for trouble. You are pleasantly shocked when Jade, smiling with all his predator teeth, suggests you go up to a student and give them a wet-willy. 

You never knew Jade could be this fun to hang out with!

You understand that Twisted Wonderland is an eat or be eaten world. And, as Floyd calls you, you are a shrimp. A shrimp with a drizzle of cajun sauce and seasoned with red pepper flakes to be the most appetizing for: picking on, abusing, and just overall suffering from overblots, potions, and plain old magic. It feels nice to regain a bit of power. To see that even mages have weaknesses is a nice balm to your endless ache. To laugh at their misfortune for once.

For the first time in a while, you do not feel that weight of being a failure. That everlasting pressure of having the lowest marks lightens. With an eel at your side, you find yourself a bit elevated on the food chain with certain privileges. 

Hand in hand with Jade, you two find yourself walking down a corridor. You have taken to holding a few of your own notes in your non-dominant hand. In front of Jade, his binder is hoisted by a levitation spell as his pen works on writing the information he finds useful. 

The binder is under an invisibility spell; so are your notes. However, this kind of magic leaves a trace of smell that high-ranking mages and beastmen are privy to. Magicless as you are, you do not notice a shift of fragrance in the air but you take Jade’s words at their face value. 

His levitating pen has been consistently moving across pages. Even when Jade turns to you, smiling widely and joking about today’s events, his pen keeps moving like a restless shark. So, you are wholeheartedly caught off guard for Jade to suddenly halt in his steps. The pen dots its punctuation then hovers still as death in the air. “Jade?”

“Shush,” Jade snips. You almost have half the mind to remind him that no one can hear you under the botched potion. Instead, you turn your attention towards what has stolen the smile off Jade’s face and grabbed his attention so thoroughly. 

An Octavinelle student happens to be walking out of a classroom. He has blonde hair swept messily like a tumbleweed and that recognizable armband on his biceps. No one you recognize though. Someone Jade must know, given how intensely he is staring. Before you know it, the binder has been magically closed.

“(Name).” You turn when he calls your name. “May I suggest a little detour? Won’t take longer than a minute.”

“Uh yeah,” you nod dumbly. “Sure.”

So, where the Octavinelle student exits, you and Jade enter. No one notices you entering as is the new normal. It seems to be an after school project group. A few students have pushed two laboratory tables together and are in the middle of writing notes. Jade makes a bee-line for the table which worries you – having been content with hiding in backgrounds and shadows with him.

On the table, there is a coffee thermos right where the only empty seat is. None of the mages are alert enough to notice Jade unscrewing the thermos’s top. You are acutely aware of each move Jade makes though. Paralyzed, you observe like a student watching their scientist experiment combusting. It feels very similar to watching a burning train-wreck, enough to make your jaw drop. 

In the pocket of your stunned silence, Jade delicately tucks the black strand of hair behind his ear. His Adam’s apple bobs up and down thrice; a deep phlegmy sound vibrates out his throat. When Jade (out of all the students in Night Raven College!!) hacks up an impressively huge, light yellow spitwad which falls out of his puckered lips into the awaiting cup of coffee. 

When he straightens up to you, black hair split behind his ear and framing his cheek, he smiles with the satisfaction of a job well done. “That is all I needed to do. We may carry on; I believe jurisdiction of our next rendezvous falls upon you.”

You get to pick the next student you two humiliate or gather notes on … you know this, it computes in your brain, but … you gape at Jade with a wide mouth, “Who are you and what the fuck have you done with Jade?”

Because gathering information on students and maliciously keeping them in a binder? You can imagine Jade doing such a thing. Taking the opportunities that this botched potion has given him and causing a bit of mischief with you? Well, that is what you are doing right now so it is very easy to imagine. Jade spitting into a student’s drink as a form of revenge or entertainment? Even after seeing it with your own eyes, you cannot fully believe it.

“I assure you, I have not undergone any body-swapping potion at this time.”

“I just – Dude. Dude,” you huff out a laugh. “That was –” Then, suddenly, you are laughing uncontrollably. It is really an advantage that this potion makes you invisible to the ears too. “Hahahaha!! Oh my – hahaha!!” 

It surprises you a second time when Jade joins in. “Fufufu … heh … Hahahaha!”

In the afterglow of shared laughter, you and Jade look at each other. His eyes are sharp like his teeth. There is a sensation in the air; you can only akin it to walking on a balancing beam and being brave enough to walk across the soft foam for the first time. Like you are trying something new, here with him.

“I just can’t believe you would do that. You of all people.” Your eyes linger hard on the thermos.

“I do admit it is a bit juvenile of me. Typically, Floyd spits in drinks while I add a certain fungal toxin. This was a bit more personal.”

“Remind me to never get on your bad side.” Yet, you have a smile glued to your face. As does Jade. The hand holding does not help with your growing fluster.

Yet before Jade can respond, the door to the classroom is thrown open. The Octavinelle student comes stomping in with a vengeance. Irritation on his face and phone in his hand, he howls, “Fuck Azul Ashengrotto!” You happen to share this sentiment wholeheartedly. “I swear, I cannot even piss without him needing to know! Why did I get saddled with the worst housewarden!”

One of Azul’s contractees, you think just as a student from the table pipes up, “What does he need from you this time?”

“Ugh,” the Octavinelle student groans. He sits down in the empty stoll with a thud; his arm comes up to rest on the table but he does not grab the thermos. “‘Parrantely, our vice called out for his night shift. So, Azul has to schedule three guys just to replace one.”

The Octavinelle student takes a big sip of his coffee. You watch the smile grow on Jade’s face, teeth gleaming. As he sets down the thermos, he continues complaining, “It’s so unfair. I have to drop everything I’m doing just at the drop of a hat for this bitching guy, or else ‘there will be repercussions for breaking contract terms’. What bullshit.”

“Didn’t you break your terms last week,” a Heartslabyul student questions.

“Yeah, when you skipped your shift to go Foothill Town for the weekend,” another Octavinelle student, different from the blonde, pipes in.

“Yeah, I was supposed to taste-test some potion for our vice. Told them I had a family birthday to go to; he won’t find out.” 

“I already found out,” Jade leans in and whispers, his breath warm on your neck. He gives a discreet little point towards the thermos. You stifle a chuckle behind your papers. As Jade pulls away, he looks awfully pleased.

“I mean,” the blonde Octavinelle student continues, “the guy’s a total creep! Who knows what would have happened if I drank that potion; would’ve seen me walking around with a third arm or gills. My housewarden and vice are two peas in a pod: complete and utter monsters.”

Laughter blooms up from the table in agreement. Features wilting, you cannot find yourself agreeing with the student’s sentiment. Sure, you can see that description fitting Ashengrotto for how utterly horrendous and repulsive he was during his overblot. But Jade? Well, he is not innocent-incarnate but a monster is a bit much.

If Jade overblotted, would I share that sentiment? No, I don’t think so. You do not get to entertain that thought further as the Octavinelle student, who is not blonde, pipes up in agreement, “At least Azul has some humanity about him … Jade?” The student fakes a shiver. “Wouldn’t be caught dead alone with him.”

Eagerly finishing off his second sip, the blonde Octavinelle student jumps to add his input, “Have you seen how he looks smiling – it’s like a rabid animal trying to appear less rabid. If you’re going to undergo a transformation potion, at least have it do the job.”

“He’s only got himself to blame for having zero friends, looking like that.”

The hand in yours suddenly squeezes at those words. Concerned, your gaze flickers up to Jade. For a foolish second, you really are expecting his face to pull into that familiar grin of shark daggers. Prideful that his reputation is kept so neatly and undamaged. 

A scowl is not what you are expecting to see. His nose and upper lip twitch like he is pushing whatever is bubbling to the surface of him back down. Just as quickly as the twitch happens, it goes. A firm lid now placed over Jade’s expression, he turns demure to you and politely says, “Shall we take our leave?”

You can only nod along, confused over the whole ordeal. 

You and Jade have this thing going on – no, it is not the potion contract; it is actually something that happens specifically outside of contractual hours. You both have started to smile at one another when spying the other walking down the hallway. To be honest, Jade smiles, you mostly stick your tongue out at him or throw him a peace sign depending on your mood. 

The thing is Jade’s grin has always been big, revealing all his predatory teeth and causing wrinkles to form under his eyes. The next time around, passing by one another near the gymnasium, Jade smiles. He smiles tight-lipped, some subdued version of himself. 

IV. No mistakes were in the mixture, but it had been splashed on you all the same.

“Grim!” You caterwaul as two bottles of salamander eyes fall into your cauldron. 

Ace has been teasing Grim for the better half of this assignment. Something about your low stash of food or something else because really, anything about you two is fuel for teasing. The verbal sparring mattered little to you as you were managing to get this potion right for once! At least, it mattered little until Grim decided to hop over the desk attached to your cauldron. 

Down, those two bottles drop into the cauldron with an expressive ploop!; liquid hits you in the backsplash. All you can think about at that moment is what you are going to owe Professor Crewel. You refuse to be scavenging the mountains for salamanders to pluck the eyes out of. 

Furious and with canary yellow droplets rolling down your face, you reach across the top of the cauldron. Your fingers hook into Grim’s collar, pulling him towards you as the fireball he was going to strike Ace with evaporates on his tongue.

“Myah!”

“You little –”

“What’s your problem, Henchman!”

“My problem is that you just messed up the first potion we’ve ever done correctly in this class! How could you be so careless! Do you have any idea what it took to pull my weight and make that without a mistake!”

When Grim refutes that Ace called his legs stubby, you swear you could almost combust into flames like the King of the Underworld. It would be a fitting reaction. Yet, all you can do is shout, “Your legs are stubby! You’re short! God, your height being teased should not cause you ruin a perfectly made potion. We are a team; this comes out of your grade too you know! Seriously Grim, I can’t –” And then, you cannot even shout anymore in reaction. 

I can’t breathe, you realize with wide-eyed panic just before your legs give out beneath you. “Henchman!” You manage to safely deposit Grim on the ground in midst of your rough fall. However, it does not curb your impending face-plant away. 

Why can’t I breathe, you think. You try desperately to will yourself to breathe automatically through your nose or mouth, eagerly willing to take up the torch for your stressed brain. Nothing. Instinctively, your hand flies up to your throat. Under your fingertips, serrations that open in twelve inch wide cuts brush against your hand. You feel rubbery bristles and sleek skin not wet from blood. 

Huh? You do not get to ask about it as a spell suddenly lifts you off the ground. Second later, you are dumped inside an empty cauldron Deuce has summoned in the midst of discord and you are dampened by the raincloud Professor Crewel has summoned over your head. 

Fresh air, you think while breathing in water. You are knocked out momentary reprise, your new found respect for life after being able to breathe again, when voices suddenly start shouting. 

“(Name), are you okay!”

Over your right shoulder, your vision is swallowed by Deuce’s frantic expression. Half of his goggles are pulled up to his forehead but the left side still suctions to his skin, extending up his eyebrow unnaturally. Quizzically frantic, his eyes race over your body. 

“I’m fine now, I think –”

“Bad dogs!” You do not finish the sentence. Professor Crewel uses some sort of spell and you watch vindictive as Ace’s and Grim’s heads are pulled together by harsh magnetism. They fall to a heap like knocked over bowling pins. “This is a laboratory! Not a playground! To be standing on desks like that is completely unacceptable!”

“Grim was the one jumping around; he ended up knocking over everything!” Ace jabs a finger in the direction of the dizzy dire-beast. 

“He called me stubby! No one insults the Great Grim and gets away with it!” Grim aims a tiny, blue flame in the direction of the Heartslabyul student. A tiny one is only a forewarning of more to follow. 

“Enough the both of you! Your absolute foolishness lead to —

“Ow,” you cry, pained. You had only meant to join in on scolding Grim, not interrupt in such a piercing fashion. Wincing, your dominant hand flies up to your mouth. Strings of metallic red connect your finger to your lip, and you wonder what you are going to do now as the rain washes away the red. 

Because that potion you were brewing correctly … “You dogs and your insolence led to one of your classmates becoming a merfolk.” … was a mermaid transportation potion. 

Now that panic has dwindled away, you suppose it makes sense your momentary lapse of breath. The rain cloud slowly dissipates over your head. With the water in the cauldron reaching the top, there is no more reason to keep it raining indoors. You take the opportunity to survey the damage of another disastrous potion accident. 

The complexion of your tail is a mixture of olive gray with yellow undertones. Truly, you are not sure how to describe the texture of the canvas besides resembling a stingray or perhaps a shark. Your tail breaks off into the shape of an uneven boomerang. Against the rough cauldron’s innards, you definitely feel a dorsal fin scraping on the cast iron.

The crowns of your teeth have elongated into sharp points which is why you keep your jaw hanging open. You are not going to risk biting off your tongue, unaware that magic could repair it. 

“Henchman, you have teeth just like me!”

Oh, you love Grim dearly like an annoying little brother, but you yearn for nothing more than to bite him hard. Painful enough where he learns his lesson. Your lips pull up into a smile when Professor Crewel hits him on the head. Then, you drop your open maw into a crude caricature of a frown when Crewel turns around. You don’t want him to misread your smile; you promise you are not finding this situation funny.

Because, to you, this is the worst. Your legs – your tail – no, your legs feel disgusting. So conditioned to have two separate legs, the innard combination of muscles and bones melting together causes a shiver up your back. Absent of piggy-toes to wiggle, lower limb bones suddenly hollowed out of you, fat and epidermis shifted into something supernatural. Get me out of this body! 

Your pyramiding nausea must be shown on your expression; Professor Crewel gives you a sympathetic look for someone you thought so apathetic. He surveys you before saying, “It will take until after school for me to have the reversal potion brewed. Even then, I cannot keep you in the laboratory.

“Usually, I would pin the responsibility on you two mutts,” he sends a glare at Grim and Ace, “but then I would risk endangering the Prefect further. Perfect.” You grow more very nauseous because you know where this is going. “I think it would be ideal if you stay in Octavinelle for the time being.”

You must be an edible species of mermaid right? Maybe, with enough begging, you could convince Deuce or Grim to set a fire underneath the impromptu aquarium tank you sit in.  “Ashengrotto can escort you. My 2C class is next period.”

You can’t even drown yourself; a whimper breaks your lips. In a kiss that is more a punch, your forehead and the side of the cauldron met like two angry lovers. “Just cook and eat me,” you moan sullenly.

“Yay, sushi!”

“Grim!!” Deuce shouts, mortified. 

When Azul does come in next period, five minutes before the bell like the attentive student he is, you glare at him over the side of your cauldron. It takes all but seconds before his stunned expression to melt into that sinister, scheming smirk. He really is such a snake even after his overblot. You would normally say this little favor is going to cost you an arm and a leg, but you already lost two legs. No way are you parting with an arm. 

“My, it seems you have gotten yourself into an unfortunately tight spot, Prefect. I’ll be happy to write up a contract that alleviates you from this certain predicament.”

Now, it takes luck and hard coordination, but you manage to splash Azul just as he finishes his sentence. It feels like stretching out a knot in your leg when you use your tail to propel water out of your cauldron. 

As Azul simmers in shock, you snicker in satisfaction. Serves him right. 

Soon enough, you are brought to Octavinelle. Hypothetically, it would take Azul two days to finish a reversal potion, which is better than most students who would need five days. But since Professor Crewel is working to ‘alleviate you from this certain predicament’, there is no need for a contract. Thus, the housewarden carries your cauldron through the school with magic.

There are so many questions running through your head that you and Azul remain silent during the trip to the Hall of Mirrors. Are you going to get dumped outside in Octavinelle’s waters to fend for yourself, or are you going to be thrown into the pool left to starve? What can you even eat in this form? It is already so hard to talk with the fangs in your mouth. Blood stains your lips like lipstick. You are deathly afraid of biting off your own tongue.

This is the worst potion accident I’ve ever had, you sulk, chin on the edge of stone. You want an easy life like everyone else but destiny has deemed you a magnetic force for chaos. Like there is something sweet in your blood or on your skin that attracts misfortune to you.

No one else in your first year class had experienced either a multitude of potion mishaps or a multitude of overblotted students. There has to be something in you that causes misfortune to suction to you with eagerness.

It is only when Azul speaks, carrying you through the Hall of Mirrors, do you stop your petite mopeness session. “Now, Octavinelle’s pool is never emptied so it will take some time to arrange it to be closed for the day. As a housewarden, it won’t take more than an hour. In the meantime, you are going to have to swim outside the dorm.”

“You can’t just keep me in the cauldron? I figured you shove me in some broom closet.”

“Now, do you really think I'm so cruel?”

“I do.” 

A scowl moves Azul’s lips. As he carts your cauldron through the mirror, violet sparks shimmering on the bottom like bugs drawn to a bowl of overripe fruit, he smiles cruelly, “Well, I’m glad to prove your expectations right.” Then, without any care, he vindictively dumps you out of the cauldron and into the mirror’s tensile surface.

“Asshat!” You manage to shout breathlessly before you find yourself on the other side of Octavinelle’s mirror.  

The pressure of water is unfortunately reliving to the pressure of suffocation on your chest. In the cauldron, you felt mildly asthmatic. It is certainly easier to breathe now. Which you do, you take a deep breath and then into nebulous waters, you shout out your frustrations. “ugh … UUUGH! AAAAAGH!!” Left alone in the blue, you sink down and down like a stone with each of your thoughts.

Hollowed out the bones in your lower limbs and trapped in skin made of dermal denticles, you eventually force yourself to learn to walk. 

It takes a great deal of try and fail, rinsing and repeating the process. Stubbornly, you refuse to just lie at the bottom of Octavinelle’s water to die and join a whale’s skeleton … or just wait until Azul comes to retrieve you, fake sympathy on his tongue … the mere notion of the latter causes your teeth to grind.

Thankfully, the waters are empty of any merfolk. A dagger named Embarrassment would have punctured your heart if otherwise. Having your multiple face-plants into sand and multiple collisions with reefs being seen by a single spectator makes you grimace. Eventually, you learn to use the yellowish-gray tail with the dexterity found in a squirmy newborn. 

An average person would have taken longer than an hour to learn the motions. You take to it like a duck to water. Impressively, it takes you only twenty-five minutes. Of course, you are arrogant of this fact. Limbs bruised from the rocks you have crashed into and mouth salted with the sand you accidentally swallowed, you sulk. Terribly miserable at the bottom of the sea, thinking yourself the biggest fool in Twisted Wonderland, you sulk at your falsely perceived failures but keep at it.

Moving with a tail mimics the sensation of sprinting. It is a constant motion that you must fall into smoothly. Once you start, you cannot risk a slight falter because that will send you barreling back to the ground. You must be confident about your motions. 

Tail oscillating back and forth, you push yourself off the seafloor for hopefully your last time. You wade gently off the seafloor like a bumpy airplane hopping off the runway. And then finally something happens in your abdomen and in your legs. Finally! Finally, you manage to find your rhythm. 

As if pulled there by an invisible thread, you find yourself swimming over to Octavinelle. Unconfident about your agility, you keep to the eastern side of the dorm, away from the towering spirals that look like a homunculus birth between a crab hand and an octopus, and you keep yourself away from the main building, wary of what could happen if you interact with other students. 

You wrap yourself around stone structures shaped like pointy fish-heads. Glide up the natural pattern of stairs made of the seabed floor, testing your ability to elevate yourself. Brush your hand briefly over a certain gray stone shaped oddly like a circle head with two circular ears, reminding yourself of that mouse creature you saw in the mirror days ago. Then, you turn yourself on your spine, belly up, and propel yourself towards the tunnel in Octavinelle with experience that grows second by second. 

The ‘skies’ are filled with starfishes suctioned to the edges of purple-gray arching stone, a school of moonfish with shining silver bodies with the edges of their fins kissed by orange sunshine hues, and moon jellyfish that move hypnotically like a multiple aliens made of clouds of milky-coral intestines. How phantasmal and pretty.  

Despite being in another world full of alien creatures like beastmen, mermen, and fae, at least the ocean has not changed that much. Now, impromptu and unplanned, you are thrown into the chance of a lifetime. Despite yourself, a smile grows on your lips.

Flipping yourself belly down, you glide over the tunnel system. It is a sectional hallway of Octavinelle that goes from the main building towards the dormitories. The unique faucet about the long hallway with the overarching ceiling is that the ceiling is made of glass. 

You meant to swim over the glass structure but you stutter in your motions when you make eye contact with a certain someone walking down the hallway. Even when separated by a barrier, that mountain landscape of smiling fangs manages to send a shiver down your spine. Why is that asshat’s eyes half-lidded like that?

Regaining yourself, you swim fast inches above the tunnel and ignore Jade Leech who watches you fondly in Octavinelle’s aquarium hallway, a few school books in his hand. You come to regret it later because:

“You broke contract terms earlier,” is the first blasted thing out of Jade’s mouth when he enters Octavinelle’s pools just as Azul exits.

“How so,” you grumble. After his classes, Azul retrieved you from Octavinelle waters with all the grace of a dog owner picking up their mutt from a park after hours of neglect. He leashed you with a spell and dropped you into Octavinelle pools. Now, lying on your back, you glide aimlessly in water like an adrift pool-float.

Didn’t matter where you were though as you knew Jade would come find you. But – “Earlier, when we made eye contact through the tunnel, you swam away like a shy clownfish.” – seems you forgot how rigorous people in this specific dorm were about terms.

Mouth opening to defend yourself (more correctly, lie and say you did not know how to stop), a certain tantalizing scent catches your attention. Flipping yourself upright, you glance towards the edge of the pool when Jade stands on the steps, ankle deep with his pants rolled up and footwear off. In his hands are two steaming plates.

“Oh thank God, I’m starved,” you say, swimming over.

Yet Jade chuckles, “Food is for well-behaved fish who uphold their contract terms.”

“Oh God,” you groan. “Listen, I didn’t know how to stop.” A lie but you tack on, “And it’s not my fault I wasn’t with you. Azul dumped me into Octavinelle. He pushed me in there like a bird kicking her chick out of the nest.” 

“Still, I would have come to retrieve you had you not darted away. Did I perhaps frighten you?” 

“Jade, just tell me what you want to hear and I’ll say it. I’m starving.” You had not realized how famished your new body had grown in such a short time. Swimming is a rigorous exercise but you never thought it would hollow out your stomach so thoroughly. 

“My, what an opportunistic sentence. Anything I want you to say … just like that? Sevens, which of the hundred self-deprecating phrases could I move your tongue into?” The smile he aims at you is a perfect mimic of some villainous character reveling in the downfall of a hero.

“You’re a pain in my ass, Jade. You know that? A real thorn in my side.” 

“A leech on your ankle?”

“At least you’re self-aware.”

“Of course. Any self-respecting person should be able scrutinize and recognize who they are in the eyes of those on the outside looking in.”

“Then you must know I see you as a real asshole for not feeding me.” 

You hold up your hand to accept the plate. At the end of this verbal maze, you will be rewarded with food. Like a mouse who is eventually given cheese after all those twists and turns. However, you do not expect his next sentence:

“You’re hurt.”

Are those the words you must repeat? “I’m hurt?”

Jade shakes his head at you. You watch in surprise as he sits on the edge of the pool, leaving his ankles in the water. You have never seen him look so casual in his dorm uniform. Sure everything is tightly buttoned and hastened in place, yet there is an air of permissiveness around him. “Your arm,” Jade clears up confusion as he sets the plates down. 

When you check the appendage, Jade’s words are proven right. A mark that is sure to turn violet and black runs across your forearm. Must have happened when you were trying to learn how to swim, bumped too hard into a coral reef perhaps. 

“Oh damn, that is going to ache tomorrow.” Hissing through your fangs, “Shit.”

Jade hums in consideration. “Give it here.” He gestures to your arm.

After a moment’s hesitation, you extend your forearm so it rests in Jade’s hands. You expect him to dig his nails into the area, to test what will make you wince. However, he just carefully maneuvers it in his hold, mapping out the bruise’s perimeter with his eyes. Then, he unclips his magic pen from his breast-pocket. 

You rest your head on your shoulder, peering up at Jade with tired eyes. Violet light orchestrates a ballet across his feature, dipping and pirouetting on each sharp curve. It reminds you of how he fought in the violet drenched nightmare of Schoenheit’s overblot to keep you safe.

As the perimeter of your bruise shrinks, you realize something and have to force down a twitch.

Oh.

Oh!

Juxtaposingly, it seems so natural and it seems so artificial. You have feelings for Jade Leech?

‘Please, be serious’ you want to chastise yourself. However, it feels like something that has grown inside your heart naturally. However, it too feels like it was something born of blasphemous methods that would offend Mother Nature. Perhaps that is your own hesitation to admit to having a crush.

Bruise completely gone, lavender light falls away from his face. “There we go.” He looks up from your arm to your body. Seemingly, his eyes flirt about to assess whether there is any more mark from your old, faithful friend Danger you have inevitably fallen into. Does he think you are a failure? The thought makes you sick. You don’t want Jade to ever think that about you.

As you take back your arm from his lap, curling and twisting it experimentally, you thank him.  He responds,“It’s no trouble at all. I uphold contract terms … unlike others.” 

“Oh, climb off it.” 

When you enunciate your sharp ‘t’, Jade’s eyes are magnetized down to the rows of razor daggers in your mouth. If Jade Leech could look stunned, you think this is the closest you have ever seen him do so. A subdued version of the facial expression. 

“What,” you ask. “Something on my face?”

“No, no,” Jade smiles like it is nothing. He picks up the plates previously set aside. He balances each like a veteran waiter, showing you the beef wellington he has cooked for you two. It is paired with a brown sauce underneath the pastry. “I’m glad to see that my preparation was prudent to all the changes the potion did.”

“You aren’t going to change into your mer-form? Show me how to eat and swim correctly so I don’t injure myself?” 

“Now, I don’t want to be too honest with you.” You simply swipe your plate, because God, an honest Jade Leech is scarier than a dishonest one. 

When you head out of Ramshackle the next day, waving goodbye to the ghosts and dire-beast on your shoulder, you come to an unexpected stop on the rickety porch. “Huh, what’s that,” Grim asks as you lean down to pick up the two mysterious jars. Underneath glass, a hundred or so slimy salamander eyes peer at you. And you suddenly recall what you had bemoaned to Jade, Crewel’s going to have my head if I can’t replace his supplies.

Around the neck of each jar, a periwinkle bow has been tied with expert care. You know which dorm that color signifies. For the first in a long time, you walk the hour trek from Ramshackle to Night Raven College feeling light like a feather.

V. Lilies were selected and arrogantly substituted for asphodels.

“So, how did this come to be again,” Jade asks … just for clarification.

Even though it was Grim who grabbed the lilies, it can still be attributed as your fault. If you were in the right mind to speak, you would blame yourself. For one, you used poor judgment to trust Grim would be able to handle selecting ingredients. Secondly, when handed the lilies, you did not check if they were the shape of asphodels. In your vocal absence, Grim clarifies to Jade, “My Henchman messed up the potion!”

“You little weasel!” Adding injury to his insult, Ace whacks the back of Grim’s head. 

“Ow!” Grim cries on Deuce’s shoulder. “Well, they did! Myah, it's not my fault they put it in.”

“You’re the one that picked out the wrong flower, so you’re ultimately at fault,” Deuce sighs. Turning back to Jade, the freshman laments, “Though, we’re not quite sure how one little flower could cause such a big difference. Or when it’s going to wear off.”

With the last sentence said, Deuce sends a wary glance to you. All of them know about the contractual agreement between you and Jade. Obligations stitch you two side by side until the effects of a botched potion wears off. However, he thinks this time should be the expectation. 

“I hope it never wears off,” Ace snickers, undeterred by the glare of Deuce and Jade. 

Originally, none of them knew if the potion was working wrongly, which is quite ironic. Working wrongly … ah, what an odd way to put it. But, when Professor Crewel dipped the rectangular slip of perfume-testing paper into your cauldron and it came back a neon pink instead of a dull orange, you knew you had to make the venture to find Jade Leech. 

Even if I breathed in just a sniff, I have to do this, you griped when your trio asked why you were even heading in the direction of Octavinelle. Sadly, it is an obligation. Your contract has you and Jade spending a large amount of time together.

Out of all the mishaps, this one crept on you silently. Without any forewarning and without any subtlety. One minute you were standing idle by the Mostro Lounge’s entrance and then, Deuce cringes at the memory, you were like this.

“Jade, can I have another kiss pleaseee?” 

Clinging like an eel with captured prey, your arms are wrapped tightly around Jade’s waistline. He cannot seem to pry you off. In honey-laced tones, you bat your eyelashes prettily up at Jade as you ask for your second kiss from him. Hopefully this one will be reciprocated. 

As if the entrance to Mostro Lounge was enchanted with a changeling circle, something shifted in you when you saw Jade. In the crowd of waiters and customers, you found Jade working. Your pupils dilated; your breath hitched; Cupid’s arrow pierced into the cotton-candy red of your beating heart. At the sound of a flustered breath, the trio only got a second to view your visage – a magical cocoon of lovestruck emotions wrapping around you – before you run up to Jade, calling his name in phony passion. 

The first kiss you stole, lip to lip, when you two collided in greeting. The look of disbelief on Jade’s face had Ace sputtering with laughter. 

Deuce was quick to explain everything before Jade … Well, it was difficult for Deuce to tell what Jade was even thinking, or perhaps plotting.  He cannot stomach hypothesizing upon the torment you might be subjected to because of how you are acting. Would Jade feed you poisonous mushrooms for all your non-consensual actions – non-consensual on both parts, you hardly seem right in the head. 

For your sake, Deuce hopes Jade goes easy on you. Speaking of the eel-mer.

In response to your amorous inquiry, Jade tilts his head to look down at you. His eyes are unreadable shields. Though his voice has a tint of minacious teasing in it, “Perhaps we should find another activity for you to take part in? Dishwashing perhaps?”

Grim makes a whine at the memory of dishwashing months ago. Deuce breathes a sigh of relief, dish-washing duty is a low price to pay. It seems Jade might actually be merciful to your unfortunate soul.

“I’d get down and dirty with you in some bubbles.”

Deuce’s face pinches in worry. 

“HAHAHA!” Ace full blown cackles, holding onto his stomach. “Oh, this is great!” He exclaims, sneering at both you and Jade. 

That passive mien on Jade’s face has not even dimmed once at your prevetish intents. Polite disinterest is a mask welded firm to his visage. “My, what a crude innuendo. I must inform you, Mostro Lounge is rather firm on its policy on keeping professional conduct.”

You frown at this sentiment. One could even call you distraught over it. But then something sparks in your lovestruck brain, and you lean harder into Jade like you are trying to fuse yourself to his skin. “Well, is there anything else in Mostro Lounge that is fir–umph?” Jade’s hand covers your mouth swiftly. 

You waste no time, pressing a kiss to the glove and staring up at him with half-lidded eyes.

Composure not slipping for a second, Jade turns to your friends who look on with expressions ranging from horrified to amused. Ah, Isn’t amusement most gratifying when found in the horrifying … Jade thinks so wholeheartedly. With a slight incline of his head, the vice-housewarden says, “As per our contract, I’ll take (Name) for the time being. You three are welcome to stay and enjoy our new spring menu.”

Your friends give various grumbles as Jade guides you away. Deuce even yells out a quick, stay safe, which makes sense when one is in the presence of a predator. However, your entire body is lax and void of tension. You follow after Jade, looking like you would follow him to the ends of the earth.

It is world-altering, tray slipping and dropping glassware type of world-altering, accidentally burning their hand on a hotplate type of world-altering to the staff of Mostro Lounge to see their second boss (and to some their own vice-housewarden) walk arm in arm with the Ramshackle Prefect. The rumors will infect the school for at least a whole semester. Yet despite the obvious euphoria flowing out of the Ramshackle Prefect as they cuddle up to Jade Leech, the side profile of the eel-mer is frozen in polite apathy. 

His cheeks aren’t even pink when the Prefect presses close to him. And you are attractive to have a few admirers who would enjoy having you cling to them. Courteous, Jade opens the VIP room up to you, but you drag him in, refusing to be separated from him for a moment.

When the door clicks shut – thankfully Azul happens to be either in the kitchen or on the floor – with you pulling Jade’s hand and stumbling backwards towards the couch like it is a bed and you two are on your honeymoon, Jade’s stone composure fractures. It all comes spilling from him like an ocean free from the hold of a petite water bottle.

“Fu-Fuck (Name),” his voice trembles against his unoccupied gloved hand. Jade’s skin hue rockets from pale to pink to a red that makes him seem like he is overheating. Resolve wavering, Jade allows himself to be magnetized down to the couch. 

In the sweetest voice that would put sirens to shame, you croon in his ear, “Jade; my lovely Jade; my strong Jade; mine, mine, mine.” You start to press deliberate kisses over his neck, seeing how much resistance his bowtie is going to give to your ministrations.

Jade is on his knees for you. His hands may be planted by your shoulders, but his lower body is completely off the couch. Amorously, you wrap legs around a slim waist and wrap hands around a forest of teal locks. He won’t kiss you back; he cannot find it in himself to, not when you are under a potion’s effect at least. However, he moves his head to an angle like a pleased cat to allow the kisses you litter on his neck.

“Take this off. Jade, off.” Vexful, your fingers pry at the bowtie fastened properly to his uniform. The white article is unapologetically firm against your inexperienced tugs. “Please.”

Something alive wiggles in Jade’s stomach like a spiral. Air crackles with a snap of fabric; the speed Jade rips his necktie off is intense. He undoes his silly bowtie with the eagerness of a highly anticipated Christmas present – good; because, under this potion, you are so eager too.

“(Name), you’re so …” He stops himself, not knowing whether you will remember this later.

As kisses burn his skin, Jade hopes he never scares you off. During Idia’s overblot, he had been so selective with how he fought to protect you – not wanting to mimic the ugliness you say you found in people who overblot. You, with a magic broom in hand, had asked him to abandon his post as vice-housewarden to help you find Grim; he would have abandoned his entire education for you like how the Mermaid Princess abandoned the sea all those centuries ago.

That train of thought is so dangerous though.Your friendship is so incredibly dear to him. Jade wants to take it slow. 

Human courtship works in such mysterious ways that he sometimes feels like a failure at the methods and execution on his end of things. If he were to be truthful with you, pull back the floorboards of his facade to show you the concert of lovebugs thudding in their moshpit underneath … ah, he hopes so passionately to never scare you off. 

As two of his dress-shirt buttons are undone, Jade leans his cheek against your temple. Like an efficient undertaker, he will bury himself under pleasantries to make himself appear more human and subdued. Even in dishonesty, he will love you honestly.

Your teeth are dull. His are not.

Said teeth burrow themselves into the juncture of his neck. Groaning, Jade is ashamed to feel his toes curl in his socks at the bite of such a prey. Sevens, he is stronger than this. 

With spit and teeth, you start to suckle and break the blood vessels in his skin like they are merely thin glow-sticks. He feels each thread of his self control break with them. Serrations from his clenching hands are made in the VIP couch as Jade lets you paint a hickey on his neck. 

The violet in his future bruise is sure to make a perfect matching garish for the color scheme of his dorm uniform.

You take exceptional care to hold your protector gently in your hands as you bite like a rabid animal. Like squishy dough, his skin rounds itself up and into the empty space of your mouth. It is a warm sensation that causes even his knuckles to tingle with the blooming heat.

“(Name)?” Your name falls husky out of Jade’s mouth. He did not think his vocal cords could wither to something unprofessional. “Uuh,” he moans from the sarcophagi of his throat when you chomp harder. 

“So beautiful, so gorgeous, so … so Jade.” You punctuate these sentiments with pecks that move up to his cheek. When you say the last one, you cradle the left side of his face in your hand. You press your lips to his cheek as if trying to fuse with him. 

He kills sentimentality from his voice thoroughly, but Jade has to know, “So Jade? Is that good?”

“It’s perfect.”

Jade drops you off at Ramshackle when your body slips into sleep. When he arrives at his dorm, he lands hard, supine on his mattress. Floyd glances up from his phone, not used to seeing Jade lie in bed so haphazardous without doing his whole routine. Lying in bed, the eel-mer takes his finger to press on the growing bruise on his neck – your own personal attack on him.

“I just had the best day of my life,” Jade muses. A smile wide and wicked blooms on his face as he looks at the ceiling. It only disappears when a pillow is thrown at him.

Reversed I. Jade rarely makes mistakes, but he had forgotten which came first: the live, squawking chicken begging to not be killed or the still, docile egg which could not voice the same plea, begging to not be killed.

Walking out Crewel’s class, having just aced a potion with your lab partner Ace (no pun intended), your eyes expand in surprise when you see one of Octavinelle twins stalking on the opposite wall. Grim bristles in your arm cradle and Adeuce falls silent in their conversation. Tension paints the air. Especially when said twin says:

“Ya breakin’ contract terms, Shrimpy. Can’t believe I gotta do the chase-and-catch act with ya.” His bored look morphs into a smile. “Though Shrimpy’s probably super fun to squeeze. Too bad Jade won’t let me.” His look morphs right back into boredom at his last sentence.

Whiplashed by his chameleon-ing expressions, you stand there numb. His words also make you pause because as far as you are concerned, you are not breaking any terms. The potion you just made went off without a hitch. Bsides, if it went wrong, you would be heading to Octavinelle, obedient to your terms. 

“How am I breaking the terms? I haven’t messed up a potion since …” Since that time you were acting like a spellbound lovestruck fool, “since you know.” 

You trail off. All you know about the last incident comes secondhand from your trio, having woken up in Ramshackle the day after with no recollection of the events. Stricken by only the prologue of a story you do not know, you went about classes in Night Raven College with a lingering sense of uneasiness for two weeks. You think to yourself, Jade must be livid, and start anticipating his revenge at any time. Yet, in the interlude of this horridly put together fantasy comedy that you have been thrown into, teal hair and sharp teeth never make an appearance until now. 

… And the appearance is flipped like a mirror and yawning out, “Uuuh, yeah ya did. If one of you messes up a potion, you guys gotta be with each other.”

“But I haven’t messed up –”

Grim leaps out of your arms when you are grabbed but you do not have the luck to make your own escape. 

Floyd ignores your words. “So, ya get to come with me, lil Shrimp,” he exclaims with a happy lilt, pulling you hard by the forearm. How the hell does a guy of his stature have the strength of a bodybuilder! “Tired of Jade being all boring and not comin’ to find ya. So, I thought I helped!”

“Oh, no, Floyd, that’s not our contract terms. The terms are –” You are cut off abruptly.

“Ya callin’ me a liar, Shrimpy?”

“EEK!”

The face in front of you – that leans down and covers you in a heavy shadow – is reserved for breakers of Azul’s contracts and those who have messed up majorly in Floyd’s book. Unbeknownst to you, you are the breaker of Jade’s sensitive little heart – he has been bemoaning how he probably scared you away two weeks ago, much to Floyd’s annoyance – and that means you have majorly, in behemoth portions, messed up in Floyd's book. 

Staring into those pin-prick eyes and open mouth leer, you almost feel your bladder go slack in fear. With how nice, although a bit devious, Jade expressions have been around you, seeing this twisted version of those features makes you shudder. Don’t forget how vulnerable you are, it warns.

Luckily, there are three glorious idiots in this world that love you dearly. So, when one of them goes, “Hey, my Henchman ain’t no liar, liar!” you relax just a bit. Though Grim’s bravery quickly vanishes with a squealing EEK! when Floyd looks over your shoulder to make eye contact with him.

“Now, you’re someone I can squeeze, Sealy. Don’t get so noisy, ‘kay?” Those hostile eyes land back on you. “Don’t make me drag ya, ‘kay?”

“Hey, you can’t just talk to them like that!” Deuce defends.

“Ya tellin’ me what to do, Little Mackerel? I can talk to anyone however I want.”

“No, you can’t –”

“You can talk to me like that!”

Everyone, even you turn your own head, stares at Ace with wide-eyed expressions. “Hey! Sue me for having self preservation. I for one wouldn’t make such a stupid deal.”

Bristling, you bite back, “I literally devised a plan to save you from a deal with Azul months ago, asshat.”

“That was Azul; not one of the twins. ‘Sides, I’m sure Jade is so eager to see his little boyfriend/girlfriend again. Probably needs another kiss,” Ace teases with a shit-eating grin. 

Your eyes go small in anger, a poor rendition of Floyd’s but still powerful. For these past two weeks, Ace has been referring to you as Jade’s partner and been hinting at more below-the-belt activities. Who knows what could have happened in Octavinelle, you and him all alone for a full day, he teases for the duration of fourteen days, hands steepled in mischief. Just as you open your mouth, ready to rip Ace a new one, you are lifted off the ground like a mere household pet.

“See! Crabby gets it!” You wrestle and twist in Floyd’s tight hold. “Ya both just need to kiss it out!”

“I think the phrase is talk it out,” Deuce adds helplessly as you dragged off by a 6’1” eel, screaming:

“Ace. Ace! When I get my hands on you! ACE!” 

Thus, you are once more brought to Octavinelle against your will. Instead of being cradled by a cauldron full of water and Azul’s magic, you are held tentatively in Floyd’s arms as you wiggle and thrust in hopes to escape. He does not break your ribs or your arms luckily. You whack Floyd with all your might the entire way.

Heels dragging across linoleum, you watch the ground move under you like an escalator. Floyd is still effortlessly dragging you, much like a body-bag. Already, you have tried to bargain with Floyd on getting your tedious freedom. Offering up pieces of candy you have in your pocket, labor you could perhaps do in the Lounge; offering up one day to ransack Ramshackle of any objects he wants, labor you could perhaps do by helping him complete parkour tricks or basketball. 

His mouth twists in contemplation when you offer to let him use the rocky, uneven terrain of Ramshackle’s backyard. Offer it for what? To Floyd for free-use to test ride for his new Blastcycle. You thank your very low population of lucky stars that Jade mentioned offhandedly Floyd was planning to join one trip of the Mountain Lovers Club to test the motorcycle on new environments for tricks. 

You can deal with another deal with an eel! As long as you can avoid seeing the eel you were trying and probably failing to seduce due to a botched potion! Thinking you have Floyd hook-line-and-sinker, you completely stop struggling. 

Until he hums, “Naaaaah!” and you two are jumping through Octavinelle’s mirror in the Hall of Mirrors. If the world has decided to give all its troubles to one person, the world has picked you from the pile. A part of you hates how much this cursed, twisted world has knocked you down repeatedly.

When the bubble pops, Floyd finally lets you walk with him. Though the arm looped around your shoulder feels more like a pillory than a friendly gesture. Devil-toothed, he smiles at you and says, “Sooo you and Jade, huh?”

“Huh!” You shout indignant. 

“Hey, it’s cool. I approve so no sweat. Just unexpected ‘cus I thought this was just an experiment for Jade; then he got serious so I was thinkin’ wooow, weird, ya know?”

Confused, you just blink at Floyd’s words. This contractual agreement between you and Jade is more cat hunting the mouse then cat watching the mouse navigate a maze. It has a very hands-on experiment with you as the main test subject. But serious; why would it be more or less serious now? 

The smile drops off Floyd’s face. “No way you’re this dumb, Shrimpy. I know ya suck at potionology but c’mon.”

“I just don’t understand what you mean by serious.”

“Sevens, you two would be pinin’ till your fourth year without me.”

“Pining?” … That involves your feelings being mutual? Jade doesn’t – “EEK!”

Floyd’s eyes go back to that pin-prick size again. He even halts both of your walk towards his and Jade’s dorm. Without your trio here, you sincerely doubt how much Floyd is going to uphold his decision not to squeeze you. Instead, he just throws back his head and groans. “He owes me a month worth of pickin’ up my shifts after this.”

You have numerous questions on what Floyd is alluding to but you are suddenly pushed into a more brisk walk. Floyd’s hand steers you. “‘Kay, I’ll give ya the rundown so ya don’t act like an idiot. Jade messed up a potion. And, your guys’ contract says you have to be around each other when that happens.” Incorrect but you let him continue. 

“Jade … ya know him, Jade, my brother? Well, he’s the secretive typa-guy. Has a hard time lettin’ people get close. Mama calls him super shy. But, you, got to go hikin’ with him, see our dorm, and even eat a meal with him. Jade doesn’t do that with just anyone.”

Even though there is no botched potion ingested right now, you feel something fluttering around your stomach like a bubbling elixir at Floyd’s words. He continues, “And, right now, my oh-so-tight-lipped brother is under a truth serum potion.”

The world stops. One, because you come to the world-halting epiphany that you have been seeing a side of Jade that no one other than Floyd and Azul might be privy to view it. Two, because Floyd stops steering you in the direction of the dorm due to arriving at the very designation. The guy who keeps his real thoughts tucked behind layers upon layers of purple prose is under a truth serum; the guy who would rather shrivel up like a beached fish than reveal his heart is under a truth serum; the guy whose Unique Magic forces people to tell the truth is under a truth serum. The irony is not lost on you, and thus the world stops.

“Jade’s under a –?”

“Yeah,” Floyd laughs, tickled pink with amusement. 

In sync, you both glance at the dorm’s door like it is a monolith dropped out of the skies. Who knows what might be held inside it? Venturing in might reveal some eldritch secrets that primitive extraterrestrials hid away thousands of moons ago. 

“You can go in there, ya know. Contract says it’s fine.”

A part of you wants to finally clear up the confusion between Floyd and yours and Jade’s contract. Yet, a bigger part of you, oh that part has to see what is behind Curtain Number One more than anything else. An honest Jade Leech is like finding life on Mars. Deluding yourself, you think: Well, the contract never outlined the terms for the other party being compromised by a potion sooo … You glance at Floyd.

“I don’t understand what you get out of this.”

“Hehe, entertainment.”

That tracks well enough that you do open the door. 

Hand on the knob of the monolith, you glance into rather tenebrous darkness like looking under the bed for monsters. Behind you, Floyd flicks up the switch with his index. Light floods the room. On the bed to the right, Jade lies peacefully on his side, hugging a pillow. 

“You’re gonna need to shake him awake. Jade sleeps reeeal deep.” Slack-jawed, you turn around with indignance on your tongue. As a mouse, you refuse to be sent in to poke a slumbering cat. Yet, Floyd has already departed without another word.

“Asshat,” you mumble at the closed door. It is completely unlocked and you know you could leave anytime but … well, let's just say Jade is not the only one who likes to lift up rocks and see what squirms underneath. Besides, you have contractual terms that keep you protected. 

“Okay … okay.” You steel yourself in your resolve. Despite this, you tiptoe your way over to Jade’s bed, hyper aware of what floorboard looks like it could possibly make a creak. Floyd is not under a truth serum; he could be lying about Jade being a deep sleeper.

Jade looks quite innocent when asleep. It is probably the last adjective anyone would ever use to describe him but it is the bone deep truth. Facade and stress melted from his features, there is this alien beauty resting peacefully on pallid skin. His hair is a bit more unruly; teal wisps all still flow in the same direction but they separate more openly. It kind of looks like someone took a balloon to his head and rubbed until static engulfed it. Oh, and his nose is so cute when he has his cheek depressing down on a pillow like that.

Smile stolen, you blink once in surprise from your own thoughts, despite knowing they have become like that overtime. “Aaah forget about it,” you murmur. 

Reaching over, you gently grasp Jade’s shoulder. You have had a question on your mind for a while. Quiet as a mouse, you urge, “Jade. Jade, wake up.”

Nothing. He is sound asleep like a rock. “Jade?” However hesitant, you still try to shake him a bit more forcefully. “Wake up, Jade.” 

Ugh, this is getting you nowhere. Part of you thinks he is putting up another identity and pretending to be a deep sleeper. Jade is rarely truthful. He always speaks in rhymes and half-truths. For a simple potion to untangle his tongue so thoroughly wants you yearn to discover just a bit more about him. 

In this uneasy friendship of mouse and cat, you have found yourself enjoying discovering the hidden, earnest parts of Jade Leech. It is an unexpected development. 

Though, it stings that he only keeps you around for entertainment and abuse.

Cringing, you think you stumbled upon what will finally rouse him from his sleep. You lean down to his ear and lie, “Jade, I was wondering if you would feed me some of the new mushrooms from your hikes? Pretty please?” 

Unamused, you watch Jade’s eyelashes serenely flutter open like he is Sleeping Beauty. Asshat. Groggily, a pair of eyes stare up at you in disbelief, probably anticipating his brother or his housewarden. But, those blissful words you said seem to have him arouse as he stretches from his bed like a rising cat.

“(Name)?” He asks, sitting up in bed. “What are you doing in my room?”

A sheepish hand travels up to cover your pulse. Leaning heavy on your right foot, you lie with a chuckle, “Ah, Floyd dragged me here. Said you were sick with a fever. I’m not sure how he expects me to help though, heh.”

You know you should not … but you want to play with this. A sadistic part of you wants to watch him squirm and wiggle. Under the guise of coming over to assist him with a fever, you can only imagine Jade will try to hide the fact he is under a truth serum. 

“Ah, Floyd is mistaken. I am not sick.”

That response is unusually curt for Jade; it seems he is going to try to conceal this as long as possible. You cannot wait to stretch out his resistrant like it is a stringy ligament you are drawing and quartering until it snaps. “Oh, that’s just unusual because you are sleeping when you should be in class. Slacking off?”

“Yes, I should be in class.” Jade remains firm in his bed, giving you a polite smile. Additionally, he is firm in his resolve to not give up any information. Even under a botched potion, his self control is strong; you wonder if there is anything that could ever make him act out.

Once again ignorant, you do not know that answer is quite simply: you.

However, there is one question you have been burning and yearning to know. Coy, you ask, “Well, that’s no good. Skipping classes like that. Though, you know I was wondering …Did you put mushrooms in that beef wellington a few weeks ago?”

“Yes.”

Something in you snaps. “AH, I knew it! You asshat!” You raise a fist, throwing yourself at Jade. “That’s disgusting, Jade! A violation of friendship! Where was it!”

As Jade bats away your flying fists, he says without much resistance against the truth serum, “In the duxelles sauce.”

You punctuate each time you call him a donkey wearing a tophat with a hit to his shoulder. Stronger than you, as natural of your protector, Jade is able to evade your hits well. The ones that land he lets land. Yet, having had enough, Jade soon grabs your wrist and with a laugh says, “Fufufu, you are so utterly adorable with your instinct to hit things.”

Blank-faced, you blink at Jade. “... Adorable?” It is not a world altering sentence; you bet Jade finds the prey that skitter away from him back home in the Coral Sea pitifully adorable too. Still, the revelation is a bit of a shock to the heart.

“Well, not solely adorable. No, there is a whole library in my soul dedicated to describing you. There are moments when you are irresistible as  –” Whatever poetry Jade was going to wax, he halts it by slamming a hand over his mouth, horrified. Your eyes lock in shared terror.

“Wh-what,” you stammer, pulling away from Jade.

He grabs you by your shoulders before you get too far. With desperation, he pulls you right back to him. Then, Jade appears stricken, dueling in his head whether he should force you to stay or allow you to leave. It is like both of you have stumbled upon something horrifying and left speechless. Speechless at least until Jade grits out, “I … I think you should go.”

Having the upperhand of remembering he is under a truth serum, you ask softly, “Do you want me to leave?”

“No. I ache when you leave. I wish I had the foresight to length out our contract terms, so I could see you more.” The sheets look like they could tear like paper mache under Jade’s grip. With wobbling lips, he forces a smile full of teeth onto his face. “Don’t you think this humiliation is quite enough?”

To be honest hypotheses have been forming in your head quite some time ago. However, after your last botched potion, embarrassment ate up your speculation on if Jade reciprocated what you felt growing in yourself over time. Now, variables are tipping in your favor. And he has been such a mean cat to you so …

You sit yourself on the edge of Jade’s bed; the first sadistic grin you have ever shown him blooms on your face. “Why, no, I hardly think I’ve done enough.” Leg now up on the mattress, you hook your arms around the body part and lean forward, teasing, “You’re never this honest with anyone, Jade.”

“Best to keep one’s cards close to the chest, don’t you agree? With the way you were acting last time we saw each other, it was like you fumbled the entire deck.”

Your left eye twitches. Cracks appearing in your confidence, you grit out, “Oh, did I? I actually don’t remember all that happened; perhaps you can enlighten me. How did it feel to be so … seduced?”

“I have never known such bliss … Really, (Name), this is painful for me.”

As sheets tear under Jade’s twisting fists, your confidence refuels itself. Being in control like this is exhilarating, you can see why Jade enjoys it so. His squirming is so cute! Smug, you purr, “Oooh I see~” You take in Jade’s grimace with satisfaction and ask, “So, me? Really? When did that start?”

“Since that day in the botanical gardens.”

Your smile drops. “Huh?” Slowly, the landscape of your flesh succumbs to geysering blood. Flustering heat rises and lives on each inch of your face. Because – “Ha … heh, huh?” – you started feeling something naturally after the potion incident where you were turned into a mer. To know his emotions have been kept classified, under lock-and-key for so long; it leaves you dizzy with a blush. Perhaps you aren’t fit for the role of the cat.

However, Jade misjudges your sudden silence for fear. He does not dare to reach out. “Please, don’t be afraid of me.”

“Jade?”

“The very thought that you could makes me sick.” 

You take in Jade’s cumbersome words, speechless. They soak into you like blood to a sponge. Fragile and human, your eyelashes twitch over your eyes, jittery until you half-lid your vision. A charmed chuckle escapes your lips, “oh Jade.”

His skin is so smooth. Cradling his cheek in your metaphorical claws, you smile lovestruck without the love potion. His face starts to beam a light, delicate pink. Cute and delicate and innocent … These are things that Jade is not. But under your warped vision, and through countless new experiments, you can squeeze him to fit the description. 

“I could never be afraid of you. After all you’ve done for me … How you protected me? I don’t care about the teeth; I don’t care about the biology. I don’t need deep sea knowledge to know I like you … and I hope you like me too?” 

You do not let him answer, fearful of the raw truth that could possibly be not what you want to hear, pressing a kiss to his lips. 

His answer –the solution to the hypothesis – is given in his kiss.

[binniesbooks]

• YOU DON'T WANT HIM TO KNOW, DO YOU?

SB 000 .F23 2024

wc 4k

pairings brother'sbestfriend!Soobin x fem!reader

warnings lot of curses, mouth to mouth passing of liquid, making out, oral sex, slight somno, degradation, protected sex, pet names, dom!soobin (idk what else did I miss)

faye's note I saw Soobin's ig post last night and the cogs and wheels of my brain started working lmao. But I wasn't able to post it immediately because of power interruption, it sucks. Tsk. Anyway, hope you enjoy this! Oh, btw, fuck Tumblr for messing it up again agh!

You had known Soobin for years now. He was your brother's best friend, the kind of guy who was always around, cracking jokes and lending a hand in whatever task you were working on. Soobin has been the most gentle person you've ever met, or so you thought.

But lately, things have shifted. You found yourself drawn to him in a way that was more than just friendship, a stirring attraction that you couldn’t seem to shake. Soobin is not that dumb to not know and knew how to connect the dots.

From the way you welcomed him even if his best friend was not around, the way you gave him water or food, the gazes he could feel you were throwing at him even if his back was turned to you, the lingering touches you were giving with simple grazes of fingers, the way you changed your hairstyle to a high ponytail, the way you kept on using thin clothes whenever he was around and the way you join them whenever they are playing because you never did these things before.

On your brother's birthday, the three of you had been hanging out in your brother's house. Laughter echoed through the rooms, and the smell of barbecue wafted from the backyard where your brother was busy grilling. The moment felt all too ordinary, yet sparkles of tension crackled between Soobin and you when you found yourselves alone in the living room, the rest of the world felt like it was fading away.

The air thickened with unspoken words as you sat close, the TV flickering in front of you. Soobin was just as aware of the shift, glancing at you from the corner of his eye, his usual carefree demeanor replaced with something more serious.

Your heart raced as your knees brushed against each other, a simple contact that sent electricity coursing through you.“Do you think he’ll be done soon?” you asked, trying to lighten the moment as you rocked yourself back and forth, but your voice trembled slightly.“Who, your brother? He loves taking his time,” Soobin replied with a smirk, but his gaze lingered on your lips for a moment too long.

"I'm done grilling, let's start drinking!" your brother announced as he marched with the container of barbeque in his hand.

The night passed with your brother's blabbering and boasting about things, like how he managed to raise you alone even when it's just the two of you, how he takes care of you and he doesn't want you to be taken by a man who didn't treat you with respect. You throw a few more glances at Soobin who's just sitting across you, and you can tell he's staring at you as well with the simple grins he shows whenever your eyes meet.

Your brother is most likely the kind of guy who can't handle his liquor, Soobin does handle his oddly fine, enough to stay conscious and aware of his surroundings. Aside from the bit of redness on his cheek and ears, you couldn't tell he was tipsy.

"He's out." You muttered as you stared at your brother snoring with his cheek pressed on the table, causing Soobin to snort as he poured the remaining alcohol into his glass. It's almost two in the morning.

"Can you carry him to the couch? I'll grab his blanket and pillows," you said dusting your shorts from anything you have sat on. Soobin just simply nodded.

"Stop staring, you'll end up making a cave in my head." You can feel how he's watching you behind your back as you are tucking your brother to sleep. Giving him pillows for him to sleep comfortably at least.

"Y/n," Soobin called the moment you're done. You replied with a simple "Hmm?" as you started to pick up the bottles, glasses, and plates cluttered around the table.

You turned your head to him when you did not hear him answer. He's sitting on one of the couches across the one you're brother was sleeping on, your eyes meet, the ends of his lips curving up.

"Have you tried drinking?" he asked, swirling the liquor in the glass he was holding. "I haven't. I wanna try though, I'm already beyond my legal age. But this asshole brother of mine does not want me to do so." You pouted as you jokingly raised the bottle you were holding to hit your sleeping brother.

"Your brother does seem to care for you so much." He grins once again, sipping on the alcohol.

"Why, of course. I'm his only family." You say as you sit at the armrest of the couch where your brother sleeps.

"Say, have you broken any of his rules?" he asked, running his hand through his hair. You nodded, causing his plump lips to stretch a bit.

You looked at your sleeping brother, "He used to tell me not to go out at night, but well, sometimes I sneak out, to be with my friends." You chuckled as you bit your lip. "Please don't tell him." You looked back at Soobin again. "Anything else?" He tilted his head to the side, still staring at you. "I...I was told not to be too close or friendly to other guys. He also told me not to like any of his friends because they're total assholes." Your voice slowly becomes faint as you fidget with your fingers.

The clink of glass he picked up on the table made you realize you were straight-out confessing, to one of his friends. You snapped back to him, "I-i mean..." You were out of words as you stared at his mused expression. Scared that he might tell your brother. You're screwed.

"Come here," he motions you to come in front of him. "You don't want me to tell this to him, is that right?" You nodded, embarrassed at what you've said and done. "Only if you do me one thing." He leaned back to the couch he was sitting on, his hand once again running through his hair. "That is...?"

"That is if you break one more damn rule of your brother. For me." He smiled at you, purposely pausing, emphasizing the last two words."I... I'll do it." He feels you're desperate as he watches you ball your fist while he can hear your thumping heart in the dead of night.

"Sit here." He tapped the space beside him as he picked up his glass of alcohol once again, his face painted with pure amusement. Just like being bewitched, you obeyed, sitting beside him.

He places his hand on the space behind you, "Pft, you're so tensed," he snickers. "One more rule, yeah?" He inquired, bringing his face closer to yours. "One..one more. Just one only..." You confirmed voice barely above a whisper.

He sipped on his glass as he held and tilted your face towards his. You breathed, gripping the couch to steady yourself. In an uncharacteristically bold move, Soobin closed the gap between you. You were too stunned to push him away. Hell, you liked it too much you couldn't push him away. He brushed his thumb on your lower lips before pressing his lips on yours, slowly letting the liquid flow out from his mouth to yours. That was it—the final push you needed. Maybe it was the fear you felt that he might tell your brother about your secrets or him being the reason you're breaking the rule, but at that moment, you wanted to break every unspoken rule. You parted your lips, you loved the taste, either his lips or the liquor, you don't know anymore. You place your hand on his chest ultimately clutching on his button-up shirt. His lips danced skillfully on yours, the liquid escaping, dripping to your chin.

He pulled away for a bit to look at you. Only to see you drooling as you look up at him with your hands tightly clutched on his button-up. "More... Please." his smile widened at you begging. "Greedy little girl, aren't you?" You lean unto his hand that is gently caressing your cheek. "Please.." you begged once more. He chugged the remaining liquor in his glass as he held your nape, crashing his lips on yours a little bit harder than last time, his other hand flew up your neck, feeling how you slowly gulped on the liquor mixed with his spit, he gently squeezed your neck, emitting a soft gasp from you as you sightly opened your mouth. He wasted no time shoving his tongue into your throat, practically making the dirtiest and nastiest kiss you've ever experienced.

You rubbed your thighs when he gently pulled at your hair, he's rough yet gentle. He's aggressive but careful. How ironic. You know this is wrong. You're kissing-- no you are making out with one of your brother's best friends, who was sleeping in front of you.

"You like this, don't you?" He taunted as he pulled your hair once more. It takes everything in you to not scream out in pleasure. His lips captured yours once more in a fervent kiss that ignited a wildfire within you. You melted into him, the taste of anticipation on your tongue, the weight of what you were doing fueling the heat of the moment. The kiss deepened, and you felt yourself surrender to what was happening. You pressed your body closer to his, your connection growing more urgent. It was reckless, forbidden—everything that made your heart race. You knew the stakes: if your brother found out, you're done. Yet, that thrill, that desire to break one of your brother's rules, is pulling you closer to Soobin.

He pulled you by your hair once again, a string of saliva hanging on both of your lips, you're panting as you snap your head towards your brother. Thankfully, he's still sound asleep. You looked back at Soobin, plump lips red from the pressure and heat of the kiss. He licked his lips, "Such a good girl for me," he chuckled, his hand still on your nape. "Now, come here, we're not done yet." He stood up and grabbed you by your wrist marching towards your bedroom, turning off the light in the living room in the process. Hearts pounding, adrenaline coursing through your veins as he locked the door behind.

The moment you two stepped inside your room, your mind immediately processed what would happen. You are in your room with a boy, Soobin. Your brother's best friend. Whom you recently grew interested in. You even made out in the living room with him. He even made sure your door was locked. What makes you think this won't reach the most intimate part? There’s no doubt about it—something significant was bound to happen. Why wouldn't it? Soobin is experienced. You've heard him and your brother talk about it multiple times. How they shared the same girl, how he ended up with a one-night stand with the girl from the bar, how he made his enemy's girlfriend sneak out with him, and many more nasty things they've done.

"Climb up the bed, pumpkin." He's ordering you around again, yet you are following him without restraint. He unbuttoned his shirt as he was staring down at you sitting tensely on the bed, with your hands in between your folded thighs. You were staring up at him, eyes blown, maybe you just can't handle the shots of liquor, or maybe you're eyes were just filled with lust. He scoffed, running his hand through his hair for the nth time today. He climbed up the bed, the black piece of cloth he was wearing long discarded.

With his back pressed on the headboard, he motioned you to move closer to him. "C'mere pumpkin. I won't tell, any of your little secrets to your brother~" his voice clearly mocking you with a sing-song tone. "Can't afford to let you get screwed, anyway." You were sitting between his legs. You can't decline to anything he wants. Aside from you being scared of your brother, deep inside you, you also wanted this. You also want to break the rules just to be with Soobin.

Your eyes ran through his long legs, his dress pants comfortably hugging the lean muscles of his legs. "Your hands are pretty, you're actually creative," he was probably referring to the artworks you've been doing, "I wonder what else these pretty hands can do." He unzipped his pants as he grabbed one of your hands, placing it on his aching bulge. He rubbed himself with your hand, humming at the sensation. His other hand flew to your lips, rubbing your lower lip as he stared at your eyes filled with need. "Soft lips that give tender and sloppy kiss," he muttered, "What else can you kiss better, pumpkin, hm?" He pressed his thumb on your lip.

You scoot closer, moving your hand on its own accord as he lets go of your hand, eyes still looking at him with unfulfilled pleasure. He pushed your head down towards his bulge, "Why not try going down on me, let's see what you can do." You carefully stroke him once more within the confinement of his boxers. "Fuck. Your hands are quite good." He moaned as he gripped your wrist. You pulled his boxers to expose his girthy length. You're not bewitched, you want him. He stroke his exposed cock as he pushed you down a little bit more, making you almost kiss the base of his cock.

Your tongue prodded out, licking the base of his cock as both of your hands were holding to his legs to keep yourself steady. "Shit!" His cock pulsated as he flinched, he was unprepared. He chuckled at your quirks. "Start. Your secrets depend here." He taunted.

Your dainty fingers wrapped around his cock got him reeling. You licked the tip of his cock, it's red and it feels burning. You slowly took him in your mouth as he puffed out muffled moans and grunts. He crossed his arms behind his head, " Wondering how your brother will react if he finds out that this precious little sister of his is doing something very very naughty behind his back." You took him whole in your mouth, gag reflex kicking in. "Fuck angel, you'll be the death of me." He huffed as he tightly closed his eyes. He's restraining himself to hold you, keeping his arms behind his head.

You continuously bobbed your head with your tongue occasionally wrapping around his cock. "You're quite skilled. Have you ever done this? You don't look and act innocent at all." His grin grew wider at the thought. You pulled away, shaking your head.

"N-never... But I f-fantasize over you." You admitted. The smug look on his face becomes heavier as he lets out a mocking laugh. "Look at you acting innocent and all. Yet you have a dirty little mind." The shit-eating grin on his face looks devilish. "My little slut." You tweaked at his words. Embarrassed at where you have put yourself into. "Now don't be shy and show me who you really are, kitten." The pet names he's been calling you, you can't react to it other than getting wet. You wanted to be degraded by him. You've wanted this for so long.

You continued giving him head, " shit, you are so dirty," his light laughs makes your heart flutter, and his degrading words make your pussy clench. He started thrusting carefully in your mouth when you started moaning, the vibrations giving him extra sensation. He holds your head to stay still as he started fucking your mouth, you could tell he does not care about hurting you but his thrust was controlled, holding you as if you'll break easily, just letting the tip of his cock kiss your precious throat. "Delicious. Fucking. Mouth." He grunts at every thrust. He stilled, your mouth overflowing with his white sticky cum.

He gently pulled you on his lap, "Did you just swallow it?" He asked, his stares at you were intense. You simply nodded "I did, am I good?" You were seeking validation amidst the forbidden thing you two have done. A playful smile shined on his face, "More than good, angel." He gently lays you on his chest, and you could feel his heart thumping as if it were about to burst out of his chest.

"Rest for a while, I'll wake you up before I leave." He said as his long fingers combed your smooth hair, he hugged you tight, pulling your blanket to cover the both of you.

He was in awe, how can you possibly sleep when it's still dangerous around you? He lays you on your bed, registering in his mind how you look. His hand travels around your body, lightly squeezing your neck as you gasp in your sleep. He pushed your shirt above your chest, scoffing at the sight, did you purposely not wear a bra the whole night he was here? He lightly pinches your nipple, rolling his fingers on it, making you squirm. His eyes traveled from your chest to your waist as he hovered above you.

His warm hands enveloped your tiny waist, smiling at how it first perfectly on his huge hand. His hands moved down, gently tugging your shorts off you. "What a little mess we have here." He mumbled, staring at how your panties stuck at your cunt. The baby blue piece of cloth was drenched with your slick. He moves it sideways, prodding his middle finger in your wet pussy. He touched you achingly slow, causing his cock to twitch inside his pants.

His hot tongue finally comes in contact with your cunt. He knows that you'll wake up anytime. "Wake up, pumpkin," he mumbles while lapping on your pussy. You grunt and squirm, feeling the uncomfortably extra wetness in your cunt. Your eyes fluttered open at Soobin eating you out. Your hands immediately clutched your mouth to refrain from being noisy. His tall nose kept on touching your clit, making it more sensitive. You clutched his blond locks, pulling him closer to your cunt as you chase your high.

"I-i'm gonna cum," you whispered, voice muffled as you were almost biting your hand. His two fingers entered you freely, pressing inside, finding your sweet spot. "Let me have a taste of you, kitten," he kept on lapping and pushing his fingers in and out of you, making you shudder and grip his hair tighter as you came on his tongue. Soobin gently sucked on your clit emitting soft whimpers from you.

He hovers above you once again, his veiny hands propped on both sides, his chest rising and falling, toned abs clenching. He pulled his wallet from his back pocket, bringing out a condom packet. He wraps his cock in one swift motion, as he prepares at your entrance. He penetrates slowly, grunting at how tight you feel on him, he covers your mouth, "Don't you make a noise-fuck, I'm warning you pumpkin." He stilled inside as you gasped for air, "Stay still, I won't move for a while," he muttered as he kissed your forehead.

The once dark and dead night is almost gone. The bluish color of the sky makes the surroundings a little bit easier to see. You two came to your senses when you heard a knock, then the rattling sound of the door knob. "Fuck!" You shout-whispered, pushing Soobin off of you. He pulled out, both of you immediately wincing at the pain.

"Y/n?" Your brother called you, you panicked as you stood against the door instead of lying down on your bed. "What the hell are you doing there?" Soobin's furrowed as he whispered enough for you to hear.

"Have you seen Soobin?" Your brother asked, you were about to answer when Soobin pinned you on the door.

"Hey, is everything fine? I heard a noise." The rattling sound of your doorknob can be heard once again.

You faked a yawn, "I-i'm good! I just fell from bed! Ouch!" You made your voice as sleepy and hurt as possible but ends up shaky. "You sure? Should I come in?" He asked. "No! No need! I'm fine! I'm good!" You panicked.

"W-what were you asking again?"

"I said if you saw Soobin? Or did he talk to you before leaving or something?"

You gasped when you felt something penetrate you once again.

"Fucking tight, pumpkin." Soobin was gripping your waist, penetrating you from behind. He covered your mouth.

"Y/n?" Your brother knocks again.

Your legs were wobbly, about to give up. "Answer him. But be careful, you don't want him to know, do you?" The grin of mockery is once again plastered on his face. He started thrusting in you. "Shit, what a dirty doll. Likes being taken from the back." He pinned you more on the door, no longer muffling your mouth, making you whine and whimper, you clenched on his cock.

"What the fuck? Are you turned on? Oh fuck, you're really dirty." Soobin whispered in your ear.

"Hey, y/n, if you don't answer I'm gonna break this door open." Your brother's voice is irritated.

"Answer him, doll." Soobin taunted.

"I... I did not see h-him.. mmhhh.. maybe..maybe he had gone h-home." Your voice ends up whiny. "Please s-stop banging the door, i-i'm... I'm gonna sleep some m-more.." you tried your best to answer your brother. Soobin smirked.

"Maybe he did go home, his things are in no sight. Well then, I'll just call him later, rest more, I'll go to my room my head is spinning." You heard the footsteps gone faint. That's when Soobin started thrusting a bit harder on you.

You clawed the door, face pressed on the cold wood. Taking every thrust he's giving you.

"Shit, such a dirty slut." Soobin has been gripping your waist for too long, that you're sure it will leave marks later on. You clenched at his words once again. He scoffed, "Wow, you really love being degraded?" His hand wrapped around your neck, squeezing it a little to restrain your lungs from acquiring oxygen. It makes you dizzy. Yet you love it. It makes you dizzy but you want him to cum inside you. It makes you dizzy but you crave for more.

"Good for nothing, cocksleeve." He keeps on pounding into you, bending you on the table near your door. You can't help but clench at his every word as he laughs lowly, enjoying what you two are sharing.

Your knees grew weaker. "Cum on my cock, I know you want it." He taunted. It was your last straw, "S-soobin.." you covered your mouth as you come undone, squirting all over his cock.

He bent down to your ear, licking your earlobe as he kept on pounding chasing his high once more. "Dirty. Fucking dirty. Fantasizing over her brother's best friend. Getting fucked and squirting on their cock." You wanted to cry at his words but it turns you on so much. He pulled out of you, discarding the condom and pumped his cock as he cums on your back.

He turned you around and kissed you, carrying you to the bed as he carefully laid you down. He picked up his discarded button-up shirt and wore it again.

"P-please don't tell him..." You tug at his shirt while he's buttoning it up.

"Your secrets are safe, my pretty slut." He saw how you melt at his words, he heard how you whine at his words. He pulled you for a kiss, a deep and passionate kiss. He removed something on his wrist and kissed your hand. His silver bracelet is now tied to yours, the cold metal kissing your skin makes you remember the heated moment you and Soobin shared.

You watch him peek outside your room as he steps out, tiptoeing to the front door.

@binniesbooks 2024

[successfulgoddess333]

MENTALLY JUST BE, PHYSICALLY JUST SLEEP

The 3D is a RESULT

If you assume something in the 4D(your mind) watch it unravel in your 3D

Why is this???

I’m gonna yell at you now

BECAUSE THE 3D IS CHANGEABLE AND IT IS SO BECAUSE OF THE FACT THAT IT IS A RESULT

The 3D is a result of assumption

The assumptions you created yourself subconsciously

Manifesting a new job is the same as manifesting

A billionaire status

Stop doubting something that’s so easy

Whether you manifest through The void or whatever other methods it is sooo easy

Quit victimizing and babying yourself and get it the fuck done

Ain’t nobody gonna do it for ya

It’s your life baby you write it design it however the heck you want it to be

I’m not one of those bloggers to be be like “it’s ok pookie if you fail🥹”

NO BITCH YOU CANNOT FAIL

THE VOID IS LITERALLY YOU

YOUR GORGEOUS SELF IS THE REASON WHY IT EXISTS AND YOU OVERCOMPLICATING IT FOR WHAT???

Ignore the 3D

It’s physical

The jeans you’re wearing right now or that hoodie

Is physical

You can change it up for you want

The 3D is that

It’s those jeans that hoodie those socks

Change it

If you don’t wanna wear it

THEN DONT

If you feel like you deserve better

ASSUME BETTER

LOOK IN THAT MF MIRROR AND TELL YOURSELF YOU ARE BEAUTIFUL AND YOU ALWAYS BEEN THAT BITCH NOBODY IS ABOVE YOU WE ALL FINE AS HELL

JEALOUSY FOR WHATTTTTT

BBY GIRL ITS ALWAYS BEEN YOU YOU ALWAYS BEEN THAT BITCH

YOU TOO PRETTY TO BE SAD YOU KNOW ABOUT THE VOID CUZ THE UNIVERSE SHOWED YOU YOU ARE THE CHOSEN ONE

ACT LIKE IT GIRL!!!!!!

THIS IS YOUR SIGN TO STOP READING AND GO GET THAT DREAM LIFE

LIKE TF YOU STILL READING FOR

TAKE YOU FINE ASS TO THE VOID AND GET WHAT YOU ALWAYS WANTED

WITH YOUR CUTE SELF😏

I LOVE YOU ALL SO MUCH

BUT STOP SAYING “hoW dO EnTEr tHE vOiD?”

👁️👄👁️

Bitch you just did

YOU ALWAYS DOOOOOO

Jesus peanut butter Christ

Cmon y’all

yOu HavE alWayS dONe tHis!!!!

Every time you go to bed

You’re detaching from the 3D(physical reality)

To be in the 4D reality

All you’re doing is becoming aware of it

Oh my god

How hard is that?!!!!

You’re killing me babes😔✋🏾

Please for the love of jell-o

Understand how easy this shizzz is

Bruh

You’re in the 3D void rn

I know that probably doesn’t exist but hear me out

You’re so attached to this reality right

Every day you are aware that you’re here living in this physical world as a physical being

This is like our 3D version of the void state

It’s not actually the void

But it’s like our state of awareness

Just in this 3D world

We’re aware that we are physical

So to shift your awareness to the 4D simply just

Be aware

Just like you’re aware now

“BUtt hoW dO sTaY aWAkE?”

Who said you gotta be sleepy??

Bitch you could do it rn if you really want to

It’s dumb to think you gotta be tired at to enter the void

NOOOOO

You literally are mentally awake

Your BODY is asleep

So why should you??

It’s different if you wanna tap into it WHILE asleep

Like waking up in it

But you don’t need to be dead tired to do it y’all

Listen bitch

You will never make it if you don’t claim your power and go get it

Stop wasting time stop assuming you fail or it’s hard

YOU DA POWERFUL ONE BABE

Sugar baby it’s all in your hands

You’re the God of your reality

Go make your life the way you want it

Quit spending hours trying to find methods to something to you naturally do every night with NO method

When you go to sleep

You are in the state of just being

You’re just sleep

When you’re awake you’re in the state of awakened awareness

You’re just awake and aware

Soooo in the void mix those two together in the void

Mentally Just BE

Physical Just sleep

Omg my new motto

The key to the void state is

“MENTALLY JUST BE

PHYSICALLY JUST SLEEP”

That’s it

That’s all

And If your favorite celebrities can manifest so can you

[girllblogging777]

𝑅𝐼𝐷𝐷𝐿𝐸𝐷 𝐵𝑌 𝐴𝑁𝑋𝐼𝐸𝑇𝑌

↳ mattheo riddle x fem!reader with anxiety (drabble)

↳ 𝑤𝑜𝑟𝑑 𝑐𝑜𝑢𝑛𝑡 : 0,7k

𝑠𝑢𝑚𝑚𝑎𝑟𝑦 : your bf’s brother really seems to hate you, but thankfully mattheo is here to comfort you (tw : slight panick attack ?)

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

“riddle literally changed my life.” those words had always carried a special meaning for you, being related to mattheo, the boy who made you feel complete. ever since the two of you started dating, life seemed to be unfolding perfectly and the two of you were the happiest together.

you never imagined that those words would take on another signification. when mattheo’s older brother, tom, transferred to hogwarts, things became different. where mattheo was warm and understanding, tom was the opposite : cold, arrogant, and always looking for ways to make others feel small. mattheo hadn’t even mentioned his brother until tom showed up on the first day of sixth year, and you quickly understood why.

even though they were brothers, mattheo and tom couldn’t have been more different. while mattheo tried to shield you from the world, tom seemed determined to break down whatever walls you’d built. you’d always struggled with anxiety, but you’d learned to hide it behind a mask of confidence. it worked with most people, but your boyfriend saw right through it and unfortunately, so did his older sibling.

it started with little comments here and there , barely noticeable at first but enough to make your smile drop. tom seemed to enjoy aiming for your weaknesses, knowing exactly where to strike, obviously not fond of his brother being in love with someone. mattheo tried to keep him away from you and threatened him so that he’d stay away from you, but tom always found a way to make his presence known.

one morning in the great hall, you were sitting with mattheo and trying to focus on your breakfast while pretending you weren’t hyper aware of every person around you. it was one of those days where the anxiety felt more present than usual, making you fidget with the rings on your fingers and bouncing your knee under the table. you forced yourself to smile and act like everything was fine, but your boyfriend’s reassuring hand on your thigh was a proof that he saw right through you.

tom walked in, looking as sinister as usual. his dark eyes scanned the room until they landed on you and a smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth as he approached, looking . “morning, mattheo, morning…” he spoke roughly, pausing as if he’d forgotten your name on purpose. “you look… different today,” he said, his tone dripping with false politeness. “trying a new look, or just didn’t have time to put in the effort?”

the words hit you like a slap. feeling too anxious today, you hadn’t bothered paying as much attention to your hair and makeup as usual. still, you looked dashingly beautiful in the eyes of everyone here, except yours and well… tom’s. your mask of confidence cracked but you quickly forced a smile, trying to brush it off. “just felt like being casual,” you said with a steady voice but mattheo knew better.

he could see the way your hands were trembling slightly and how your eyes flickered with unease before you quickly looked away. mattheo’s expression darkened as he turned to his brother. “knock it off, tom,” he growled, his voice low and firm. “stay away from her, she doesn’t need your comments.”

tom raised an eyebrow, clearly enjoying the tension he’d caused. “just making conversation,” he said innocently, though the glint in his eyes told a different story. mattheo shifted closer to you and interlinked your fingers together under the table, giving your hand a reassuring squeeze. “ignore him,” he whispered, his voice gentle. “he’s just trying to get under your skin.”

you nodded, being grateful for his support but the anxiety still gnawed at you. “i’m fine,” you lied, trying to keep up the facade but he wasn’t fooled. “you don’t have to be,” he said quietly as he brushed over your knuckles gently with your thumb “not with me.”

his words broke through the wall you’d put up, and you felt a wave of emotion wash over you. “it’s just… hard, and your dickhead brother isn’t making it easier.” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. “i know,” mattheo replied, his gaze softening as he looked at you. “he just hates to see me happy,” he admitted to you, “we weren’t raised to believe we could be loved, he doesn’t like the fact that i have you now.”

tom had moved on, losing interest when he didn’t get the reaction he wanted but mattheo stayed by your side grounding you in the moment. with him there, the anxiety slowly began to fade, replaced by the comfort his presence and love for you. you chuckled, “i’m glad i picked you… although why is he kinda… ”

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

a/n : i decided to mix two different requests so i hope you like it ! please reblog/like/comment and leave other requests xx

tag list (comment if you wanna be added) @tateshifts @redeemingvillains @helendeath @jolly4holly @larmesdevanille @dexoq @reys-letters @shiftingwithmars @shiftingwithleah @fbvreadingblog @moonlightreader649 @bellatrix-lestrange5 @sp7-mr @icantkeepmyplantsalive @chelawrites @myunperfektstorys @iris-qt @yikesitslush @clar2aa

[violentdelightsandviolentends]

☀️ with evan buckley "I would choose you over anyone." { keeping the relationship a secretl and catching eyes in a crowded room} pleaseeee

Fire Hazard.

l. Catching eyes in a crowded room + m. Keeping the relationship a secret + 17. "I would choose you over anyone."

Author's Note - this is a drabble written as part of my 500 Followers Celebration!! find that post here if you're interested. my first buck fic!! love him so much, he's an angel :((

Pairing - Evan Buckley x Female Reader

Age Rating - 16+

Warnings - none!! just tooth rotting fluff x

Word Count - 710

Masterlist. 500 Follower Celebration Masterlist.

It's absolutely against the rules.

There's a strict no fraternisation policy in place in every firehouse. It's there for a reason, after all. The city can't have all of its firefighters totally distracted because they're in love with each other.

Buck has never been one to follow the rules.

The minute he saw you, he knew he was in trouble. You cruised into the 118 with your sun kissed skin and gentle eyes and he knew there was no turning back. You flashed that million dollar smile in his direction and he could have sworn his heart skipped a beat. Yeah, he was screwed.

Little did he know, the feelings were very mutual. The first time he laughed at one of your jokes, your knees almost gave way. He looks at you like you're the only girl in the world. You feel like it, when you're with him.

At the 118, they call you Hazard. No one knows the meaning of the nickname besides Buck. Your little secret.

It came about one Friday morning shift. You weren't supposed to be working that day, but Hen called in sick, so Bobby asked you to cover. You were actually planning on going to the farmer's market, but you diverted your journey and made your way to the firehouse.

You weren't exactly dressed for work. You were wearing a pale yellow floral sundress that fell mid thigh, paired with sneakers and sunglasses. Buck took one look at you and almost passed out.

"Thank you so much for coming at such short notice. You're the best," Bobby says as you walk across the floor.

"It's no problem," you smile, making your way upstairs to grab some water.

Everyone goes back to their tasks, but Buck's eyes are glued to you. You look at him through your lashes, and he abandons cleaning the truck to run after you.

"Hey, you," he grins.

"Hey! You're in a good mood today," you wink.

"Well a pretty girl just walked into the room, so."

"Really? Where?"

You look around while laughing, and he shoves you playfully.

"You're an idiot," he chuckles.

You look at each other for a moment, before you realise what you're wearing.

"Well, I guess I better change," you tell him, turning to leave.

"Wait!"

Buck grabs your wrist and spins you back around, pulling you into him.

"Can you just give me one more minute to admire you in this dress?"

You look down at your feet, slightly taken aback by his boldness. Buck is not one to ever hold back, but he seems to with you. If only you knew it's because he's worried he'll accidentally tell you how he feels - or worse.

He uses his thumb to tilt your chin up so you're looking at him.

"You're so beautiful," he whispers, aware of the other people on the level below. "Most beautiful girl in the world."

"In the entire world?" you tease.

"Are you kidding?" he asks sincerely. "I would choose you over anyone."

He leans in without hesitation and presses a kiss to your lips. It's sweet and chaste and a promise of so much more. When he pulls away, you're both grinning like idiots.

"I've been waiting to do that since the first day I met you," he confesses.

"Well I've been waiting for you to do that since the first day you met me," you giggle.

He kisses you again quickly, before grabbing a hold of your hand.

"Wear this dress again tomorrow night."

"Tomorrow night?"

"When I take you out on a real date."

You aim a beaming smile at him, and his heart skips a beat.

"Fine, since you asked so nicely," you wink. "I can't wait."

You lean up to kiss him softly. You both can't get enough.

"If I knew that this dress is all it would take for you to ask me out, I would have worn it months ago," you laugh.

"You walked in and I thought I was gonna burst into flames. You're a fire hazard, woman."

You shove at his arm jokingly, smiling as you do it.

"Well it's a good job I'm a firefighter, huh?" you tease.

No one needs to know how you got your nickname. It's your little secret.

[little-diable]

Our sinful secrets - Priest!Loki (smut)

Y’all voted for priest!Loki, so here we go. This is super filthy, as a warning. Please like and reblog, if you enjoyed reading this, your comments keep us writers motivated! Enjoy my loves. xxx

Summary: Priest Laufeyson went with the reader’s father to war, returning with him years later. Many things have changed over the years, just like the reader has, finally all grown up and ready to sin with the handsome priest.

Warnings: 18+, smut, unprotected piv, oral (m), age gap, secret relationship, loss of virginity, religious connotations, power play

Pairing: priest!Loki x fem!reader (4k words)

“Stop fidgeting, (y/n).” Her mother’s sharp voice rang through the afternoon, forcing (y/n) to stand still. She had been shifting her weight from one foot to the other, eyes focused on the end of the street their house had been built on. Her heart was racing, fingers interlaced in front of her waist in order to stop them from moving around with her nervousness filing her veins.

“When do you think–” the rest of her sentence was left unspoken as (y/n)’s eyes found a black car turning into their street, driving towards their house. A cry left her mother as the car came to a halt in front of their house, exposing the man the two hadn’t seen in years.

(Y/n) stumbled down the stairs with tears rolling down her cheeks, her mother hot on her heels. Before either one of them could speak another word (y/n) had flung herself into her father’s open arms, pressing herself as close to him as humanly possible. Her mother followed her movements, pushing herself closer to him with cries leaving her.

“How I missed you two.” The all too familiar voice of her father left (y/n) chuckling with glee, finally stepping away as someone cleared their throat, forcing all eyes to snap towards him. A man with black hair stood a few steps away from them, smiling at the two women whose eyes flickered between the ones of (y/n)’s father and the ones of the stranger.

“Girls, do you remember Priest Laufeyson? I invited him to stay with us for a few weeks, at least as long as the wounded soldiers are still taking up the church rooms.” The handsome man stepped closer, allowing (y/n)’s eyes to wander up and down his frame. Fuck, had he always been this handsome? (Y/n) couldn’t remember much about the man who had joined her father at war, giving those in need a guiding hand, taking their pain and sorrows from them.

“Of course we do, what a joy to see you, Priest Laufeyson! A man of God is always welcomed to stay with us!” (Y/n)’s mother wrapped her arms around the priest, pulling him in for a loving embrace before she searched the closeness of her husband again. “Please, come inside, we’ve prepared some food!”

“Oh please, Loki is just fine, Anne! Thank you so much for welcoming me into your home.” His voice shot shudders down (y/n)’s spine, leaving her choking on the improper thoughts filling her mind as her gaze found the cross dangling from his neck. (Y/n) could almost imagine it hitting her chin as he fucked her, how she’d gasp whenever she’d get to trace the cool metal with her curious fingers.

“It’s good to see you again, (y/n), do you still remember me?” It took her a few seconds to reply, trying to wet her all too dry mouth.

“Uhm, yeah, I think so?” He couldn’t help but laugh at the words rolling off her tongue, forcing a smile to widen on her lips as she followed her parents inside. (Y/n) could feel his eyes on her, studying her every move as if he was all too aware of the thoughts racing through her mind. She tried to wreck her mind for any memories, days where their paths have crossed, but all (y/n) could now focus on was the burning fire simmering deep inside of her, about to take over like the waves of the roaring ocean had taken over God’s first try to create this very world.

“Please, sit, (y/n) will help me bring out what we need.” A sigh threatened to leave (y/n) as she followed her mother into the kitchen, not daring to look back in fear that the handsome priest was still looking at her, forcing her knees to give out. (Y/n) didn’t speak a word as she kept carrying different plates and bowls filled with food out into the dining room, catching a glimpse of the man’s neck as he undid his collar, placing it down on the table with his rosary following moments later.

“Mhm, look at you pet, I should paint you, naked with just my rosary on.” Heat flushed through her as she looked up at the man. She was kneeling in front of him, naked without any clothes on to hide the body he had claimed numerous times before. His marks littered her skin, marks from his teeth, his lips, and his fingers, marks (y/n) never wanted to get rid of. “I can’t wait to feel your pretty lips wrapped around my cock, but first, you shall read to me.”

Trembling fingers grasped the bible he reached out for her to take, glassy eyes struggling to take in the words that had been printed into the thin paper. His hands began to move, slowly popping open the buttons of his black shirt, exposing his muscular upper body to her wide eyes. No air was sucked into her lungs as (y/n) averted her gaze, desperately trying to concentrate on the psalms he wanted her to read.

“Are you alright, (y/n)?” Her father’s voice ripped her out of her thoughts, trying to bite down the heat that now flushed through her. Without even trying to do so her eyes found Loki’s, the smirking man was already staring at her, as if he knew just what she had been thinking of. A small “Yes” left her before she sat down next to her mother, across from the grinning priest, whose eyes kept meeting hers like a moth drawn to any source of light.

“Why don’t you pray for us, Loki?”

……

“I didn’t take you for an early riser, (y/n).” His voice was softer than any fabric she had ever touched, eyes threatening to flutter shut to relish in the emotions he pushed through her system. She turned towards him, staring up at the priest who smirked at her, one hand holding onto a cup of coffee, the other grasping his bible. “May I?”

All (y/n) could do was nod her head, watching him sink down on the cold wood leading up to the entrance of their house. It was still early, barely any people were roaming the area, nothing but the all too familiar quietness (y/n) had learned to appreciate after being forced to prepare for bomb raids, not adjusting well to the sensory overload.

“Can I ask you something?” Her small voice broke the quietness, coaxing a hum out of the man who kept watching her, studying the woman as if he was a book written in a foreign language, needing to figure out its meaning.

“What did you do at war? Did you pray with soldiers?” He took a sip of his coffee before he placed it down, body fully turning towards (y/n). Their eyes met just like they had moments ago, forcing her to straighten her posture, not wanting him to ever avert his gaze again. She could almost feel his hands on her skin, how his thumb would stroke over her swollen lips before he’d push his digit down on her tongue, preparing her for his cock. Fuck, she needed to snap out of these daydreams of hers, quickly.

“I did, I prayed with those that were close to dying, with those in need of a guiding hand. Whoever needed a calm word, I was there for it all.” A proud smile tugged on Loki’s lips as he reminisced in the memories, making (y/n) hum in approval. She had always been intrigued by religion, by God, and by the holy book, even though she wasn’t nearly as religious as her mother. “If you want to, you could join me when I visit the church today.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t want to intrude.” (Y/n) averted her gaze, eyes finding her hands, watching how she fumbled with the fabric of her dress. Before she could even catch up with his movements, the priest had softly grasped her chin, touching her as if she was the holy book itself, careful not to hurt her. He tilted her head up, forcing (y/n) to get lost in his piercing eyes.

“I’d be an honour to have you there with me, I’m sure you’d be a joy to have around for those that are still struggling as well. Please, join me, (y/n).” Her cheeks grew warmer by the second, eyes struggling to hold contact. No man had ever managed to hold such a power over her, forcing her to back down from any fight she’d gladly take on.

“It’s been a while since I’ve stepped foot into a church, if I’m honest.” Her voice wavered, teeth buried in her lower lip. His chuckles had an addictive touch to them, forcing a few soft chuckles out of (y/n).

“Well, it’s been a while for me too, love. You have nothing to worry about.”

……

(Y/n)’s eyes didn’t know where to look first, at the wounded soldiers pacing around the quiet hallways, at the altar that pictured Christ and the heavy wooden cross he had once carried, or at the white collar that was wrapped around Loki’s throat. He guided her, hand placed on her lower back, murmuring soft words to her, explaining to her who was who and how some of these people have ended up here.

“How do you know all of this? I thought you hadn’t been here since the war had started?” Both were sitting on a wooden bench, eyes focused on the cross, watching the sunlight break through the colourful glass windows. It felt as if God himself was speaking to the two, with the dancing sunrays telling a story of love, of lust, of heartbreak.

“The nuns around here mailed me enough letters to keep me updated, they told me about those that were brought here, those that died, who I should pray for with them from afar.” Her eyes were drawn to his fingers, watching his digits fumble with the beads of his rosary, focusing on the silent prayers he should speak.

“I admire that, it must have been hard to be so far away. I missed my father every day, but I can’t even begin to imagine how it must feel to miss your home, your church, and those that work with you in God’s name.” Loki’s hand found her knee, slowly stroking the fabric of her see through tights. Goosebumps rose on her skin, body trembling from the soft touch that felt as if the holy spirit itself was guiding the priest.

“It was hard, but I was surrounded by people who gave me enough strength, like your father. I owe him a lot for his kindness, and yet here I am, betraying him.” The last part of his sentence was whispered, quiet words that left (y/n) frozen, wondering what the priest was talking about. He drew his hand from her knee, finding its way back to his lap, to the rosary that dangled from his other hand.

Once again (y/n) found herself dreaming of laying close to the man, she could almost feel his soft fingertips stroking up her spine, drawing shapes into her skin as if he was writing words into the body he had claimed the night prior. God, she’d burn in the eternal fire for her sins, but (y/n) couldn’t care less about what may await her, couldn’t worry about the punishment for her sins, all she could care about was Loki, the priest she found herself longing for.

……

“You like this spot, don’t you?” His voice ripped her out of her thoughts, eyes fluttering up from her book to look at Loki. The sun was just about to go down, drenching the sky in a deep orange that left a shadow on his features, making him appear like a demon crawling from the ashes rather than a man walking with God’s grace guiding him.

“It’s so calm out here, I enjoy it more than the thin walls in our home that don’t seem to swallow whispers and conversations I’m no part of.” Slowly she closed her book, letting it rest on her lap as she kept tracing the worn out edges with her fingertips, waiting for him to move closer.

“Well, I don’t want to disturb your peace.” Priest Laufeyson turned from her, about to walk back inside, but the small “Stay, please” rolling off (y/n)’s tongue left him halting in his step, turning back towards her to sit down on the spot he had sat on this very morning.

“Can I ask you for your guidance?” All he did was nod his head, asking her to speak on without using any words for her ears to pick up. He watched her, watched how she furrowed her eyebrows, how she grazed her lower lip with her teeth, her nervousness thumped through her system, leaving (y/n) trembling.

“Is it wrong of me to want something I should have no interest in having?” (Y/n) avoided his eyes, not daring to get lost in the pupils that have seen more darkness than a woman like her could even dare to think of. His hand found hers, squeezing her palm in a comforting manner.

“It depends on what it is you desire. Tell me, what is it you so desperately want, (y/n)?” The longer he spoke, the quieter his voice grew, eyes turning darker with every word he spoke. Both knew that they were walking a dangerous line, crossing a border far deeper than the trenches the soldiers had been forced to hide in as they fought for their country, surrounded by soil so rotten and dark, no living being could escape death’s cold grasp.

“Priest Laufeyson, I-” no further word managed to roll off her tongue, nothing but a breath of air managed to leave her as their eyes met. Both moved slowly, chasing their touches even though both knew that there was no going back once their lips met. It was a slow kiss, it had something almost loving to it, allowing the two to adjust to the new sensation.

“You’re testing me, sweet thing. It feels as if God is trying to see how loyal I am to him. But how can I deny such a sweet temptation?” His words forced a soft laugh out of (y/n), pulling away from him to watch the setting sun with her racing mind. Without speaking another word, his hand found her chin, making her look at him so that he could chase her lips again. Both found themselves longing for one another, they have tasted the sweet temptation, have given into Lucifer’s call, there was no escaping from the hell they now called their home.

“(Y/n)? Is Loki with you? We are about to have dinner.” Her mother’s voice echoed through the evening, forcing them to part with wide eyes and heavy breaths ripping through them. Their lips were swollen, pupils dilated from the lust swimming in them, a sight so sinful even God would turn away from them. Loki cupped her hand, thumb swiping over her lower lip like he had done in most of her daydreams, forcing heat to pool between her thighs.

“I’ll come to your room tonight, leave your door unlocked, if you want to wait up for me.” And with one last glance thrown her way, Priest Laufeyson disappeared inside the house, leaving (y/n) behind with a confused, hazy mind.

……

“Shh, you have to be quiet pet.” His voice broke through the dark night as he pulled her into his embrace, pushing (y/n) against the now locked door of her room. Their lips found back together, eyes fluttering close to relish in one another’s touch, making them feel as if the world had stopped spinning.

“You’re the sweetest temptation He has ever sent my way, I’ll happily sin if it means getting a taste of you.” (Y/n) couldn’t stop her moans from rolling off her tongue, spurred on by his praises. No clear thought managed to break through the hazy cloud of lust filling her mind, forcing (y/n) to rely on his guidance, like a lone sheep lost from the flock He guided.

With their lips still pressed together, Loki pulled her towards her bed, pushing (y/n) down on the mattress. His knees kept pressing against the edge of the bed, allowing him to stare down on her as his slender fingers began working on his black dress shirt, falling to the ground with his collar following. (Y/n)’s eyes ranked over his naked upper body, sight caught on the cross dangling from his neck, reminding her of the daydreams that have left her heart racing and her thighs quivering.

“Take off your dress for me, let me see you.” She couldn’t stop shaking as she pulled her dress over her head, exposing her underwear to the man’s curious eyes. Almost as bare as Christ on the day of his crucifixion did (y/n) kneel for him, knees pressing into the soft blanket of hers. His fingers danced along her arms, finding the straps of her white bra to pull them down her shoulders, undoing the piece of fabric to let it fall to the ground. “Such a pretty sight, may He forgive me for tainting a pure body and soul like yours.”

“Can I touch you? Please, I want to feel you.” Her quiet whispers filled her room like a prayer spoken in an empty church, echoing through the hallways. Loki kept studying her, hand resting comfortably against her cheek and jaw before he nodded his head, stepping out of his trousers. His raven dark hair perfectly framed his features, reminding her of a demon that had crawled straight from hell, one with the darkness of its home, one with the sins it commits on a daily basis.

His hand found hers, guiding her towards his growing bulge, cock pressing against the thin fabric of his underwear. (Y/n) had her eyes focused on his hands, watching him free his cock, allowing her to marvel at him as he shot her an encouraging smile. Not once had she touched a man before, and yet (y/n) found herself grateful for the books she had read, stories no woman should ever read, and yet her curiosity had spurred her on. She trusted her instincts, softly wrapping her hands around his cock.

“Use your mouth, pet.” She hesitated for a second before her eyes fluttered up to meet his. Slowly (y/n) parted her lips, tongue stroking over his precum-bearded tip, moaning at the taste. The priest’s hand found her hair, guiding the slow bobbing motion of her head, groaning whenever she choked on his cock, too eager for her own good. Saliva dripped from her mouth, making a mess neither (y/n) nor Loki could care about.

Both knew that they were sinning, breaking a promise they have once sworn to live by, and yet sinning has never felt this good. Their bodies moulded together, perfectly complementing one another like lovers made to love, to support, to guide. An unbreakable bond started to form between these two beings who shouldn’t do the things lovers did in the dark.

“Fuck, feels like you’re holy, you’re too good for me, but I can’t get enough of you.” Loki’s words made her want to smile, struggling to move the corners of her mouth, stretched by his heavy girth. Whenever he twitched in her mouth, an unfamiliar spark was shot down her spine, making more arousal pool between thighs. Their eyes met as he jerked his hips, forcing her to claw her fingernails into his thighs, holding on as he abused her mouth.

Jesus had died for their sins, but not for sins this devilish, for acts so dark, for acts so wrong, for acts that made them both want to leave their belief behind, following the call of darkness.

“I want to fuck your mouth full of my cum, but for now I need to feel your cunt around me.” With a harsh tug (y/n) was turned around on her bed, face pressed against the covers that haven’t ever been blemished with what the priest was now doing to her. She trembled, needing to hold onto the soft fabric as her nervousness got the best of her.

This was new to her, completely new, but (y/n) trusted the man, laying her fate in his holy hands. She felt his fingertips graze the back of her thighs, pulling her soaked panties down her legs, letting the cold air lingering in her dark room clash against her dripping cunt.

“Deep breaths for me, love, I got you, let me take care of you.” A moan bubbled out of (y/n), eyes squeezed shut as she felt the tip of his cock brush through her folds, slowly spreading them. With one last shaky breath inhaled into her lungs, (y/n) forced herself to relax, allowing him to push into her cunt.!

For a few seconds neither of them dared to move, while (y/n) tried to swallow down the unfamiliar stretch, Loki had to force himself to calm down, not daring to hurt her with rough thrusts that would leave her crying and begging for him to stop. His fingers danced up and down her sides, stroking soft patterns into her skin till he felt her relax once again.

The priest started with slow thrusts, giving the both of them the chance to adjust, to get to know one another’s body. The cross dangling from his neck clashed against his front with every thrust, leaving God shaking up above, covering his eyes as one of his most trusted men went against his every law. But she was worth breaking them all, was worth the heaviest sin.

“Tell me, love, how does it feel? Talk to me.” She tilted her head to the side, warm cheek pressed against the covers to give herself enough space to speak up. Her voice trembled, just like her body, and yet her words dripped with lust, telling the priest everything he needed to know.

“So good, never stop touching me, please Loki.”

A sharp breath was inhaled into his lungs as he clicked his tongue, tightening his grip on her hips.

“That’s not how you shall address me, you know better, pet, don’t you?” His voice had an unfamiliar touch to it, leaving her heart racing and her cunt clenching around his cock. It took her a few moments to speak up, eyes squeezed shut to try and find the right words he asked her to speak.

“I’m sorry, father.” Her teeth were forced into her swollen lower lip, leaving marks he’d soon kiss with his tongue, swiping along the soft skin. A satisfied hum left him, grinning down on the woman he kept fucking with thrusts that kept growing rougher with every passing second. No longer was he holding back, no longer was he trying to be gentle with her, chasing his release.

Loki could tell that she was close, about to let go for the first time with a man around, for the first time with a cock buried inside her tightness. (Y/n) had to force herself to remain quiet, not daring to wake her parents, not daring to let them in on the secret that would lay heavy on their hearts.

„You can let go, give in, love.” With another moan leaving her, (y/n) gave in, eyes rolling back into her head, hands tightening their grip on the covers. He fucked her through her high, leaving marks on her as he kept holding on, pulling out of her to release himself on her behind and thighs.

“Here, let me clean you up.” Loki let go of her, moving slowly to reach for some tissues, gently cleaning her up. No words were spoken, guided by their tiredness. She turned towards the grinning priest, chuckling as his lips met hers in a soft kiss. With his hand cupping her cheek, he looked down on her for a few more seconds before he let go of her, “This has to be our sinful secret, I’ll expect you in the confessional tomorrow morning, love.”

[all-timelee]

To be loved || O.G.

//clearly I’m going through a bit of a phase here 😅\\

Word count: 1.8k

Warnings: use of female pronouns

Masterlist

Being born blind certainly came with it’s challenges. It was something that made life difficult, for sure, but it also had it’s set of advantages.

Ominis had grown more than used to the dark world he navigated through daily, his other senses had seemed to adapt as well, almost overcompensating for the one he lacked. He considered himself to be a very perceptive person, especially due to the fact he lacked eyesight.

He’d been the first person to pick up on your change in attitude. His ears recognized your sudden dreary tone, he could almost feel your deamnor shift into one of resignation and weariness. It was so different from the Y/N he was used to, he wondered how no one else had noticed.

It bothered him, the way things had changed between you two, and while you tried to act like nothing was wrong, he knew better. You weren’t being rude when you turned him away, you were simply exhausted. He could tell you needed time to yourself – he had his own ways of knowing. You didn’t want to bother anyone if you could help it.

But it had been months of this and Ominis’ concern was growing by the day. The way you had become so distant with everyone, even the people who meant the most to you, was worrisome. And it just wasn’t you.

He’d spent countless days trying to approach you to talk, but the last thing he wanted was to make matters worse, so each time he found the courage to do so only to find the conversation falling flat at his hands.

When he finally managed to ask what was bothering you so much, you brushed him off, doing your best to assure him everything was normal. But Ominis saw straight through it all, despite how good at lying you thought you were.

But he dropped it. If you weren’t ready to talk, he wasn’t going to force you. At least, not yet.

—————————

“Have you noticed anything strange about Y/N lately?” Sebastian asked, pulling Ominis’ attention away from the parchment sprawled out in front of him.

“I can’t believe you’ve only just noticed,” the blonde remarked, turning his gaze towards the other boy with a sigh. “Of course I have.”

Sebastian frowned, tilting his head questioningly. “What do you mean? When did you notice?”

“I don’t know… maybe a couple months ago? I’ve tired to ask her about it, but she told me she was fine. Obviously, I don’t believe that for a second, but I can’t force her to tell me.” Ominis scratched absentmindedly at his arm, trying hard to keep his frustration to himself.

“I’m worried, Ominis. Poppy told me Y/N’s been having nightmares. They’ve gotten bad enough that she woke up screaming in the middle of the night.” That caught Ominis’ attention quickly, the blonde sitting up straighter in his seat.

“Y/N wouldn’t tell Poppy what they were about, but she seemed pretty concerned.”

Ominis could feel the frustration growing in his body. He was well aware it wasn’t fair to be upset with the girl, she was clearly dealing with something, but he just wish she’d confide in him. He hated that Y/N continued to suffer in silence when she was surrounded by friends who only wanted to help.

Ominis abruptly stood, leaving his things spread out on the common room table, making large steps towards the exit.

“Where are you going?” Sebastian called after him, looking bewildered.

“I’m going to find Y/N.”

He left without another word, walking briskly towards the Astronomy tower. He remembered Y/N telling him she liked to star gaze when she couldn’t sleep, maybe that was where he’d find her.

The walk there only took a few minutes at his quick pace, but he couldn’t help the unease that had crept into his body. As he approached the tower, he felt his heart rate begin to pick up its pace.

His thoughts were racing when he finally reached the top of the steps, taking them two at a time in search for her.

“Ominis?” Her voice was soft but surprised, and he stopped dead at the sound of it. “What are you doing up here?”

He approached you cautiously, unsure of what to say next, “I was looking for you.” He heard the small sigh that fell from your lips, the rustle of your clothes as you stood.

“Whatever it is, it’s probably best we wait until tomorrow. It’s late, Ominis. You should get some rest,” you spoke softly, causing the boy to frown. He should’ve expected you to dismiss his concern yet again.

“No,” he spoke firmly, completely aware that his body was blocking your way through. This had gone on too long, he would not let this continue.

“No?”

“No, Y/N. I can’t watch you suffer anymore and I won’t let you push the help I’m offering you to the side yet again.” He spoke with such conviction that it was almost a little intimidating, especially coming from someone as kind as Ominis usually was.

You weren’t going to crack that easily though. You gently placed a hand on his shoulder, trying to push him back enough you could squeeze through. “I’m serious, Ominis. I’ll be fine, just go back to the common room.”

His hand quickly wrapped around your wrist, keeping you exactly where you were. “If you can’t trust me to help you in your time of need then why should I trust you when you say you’re fine?”

Ominis hadn’t meant to sound so angry, but he could help the hurt slowly growing in the pit of his stomach. He considered Y/N one of his closest friends, (he sometimes thought of her as more than that), she was one of the few people he undoubtedly trusted. Did she not share that sentiment with him?

“Let go of me,” you said quietly. There was a slight tremor to your voice, betraying your emotions. He used his taller frame to walk you back to the railing behind you, his arms moving to trap you against the metal. Your eyes widened, unable to fight him off.

“Please, Y/N….just tell me what’s wrong,” his tone was softer than it had been before, his words full of desperation and genuine care. You could see the worry on his features and you could feel the walls you’d put up slowly cracking.

It was silent for a few moments, you debating on whether or not to confide in him, and Ominis desperately wanting to know what was plaguing you. The tension in the air was heavy and thick, it was getting harder and harder to breathe under the pressure.

Eventually, you sighed, giving in.

“No one asked how I was doing during our fifth-year. They put a wand in my hand and suddenly it was my duty to save Hogwarts. They gave me a role to play, a responsibility to uphold.” You paused, furiously trying to blink back the wetness steadily growing in your eyes. Ominis stayed quiet, allowing you to finish before giving his input.

“No one cared that I was a child dealing with the weight of the world. No one noticed or cared about how I was feeling, no one noticed how much it was hurting me. And every single person that should’ve known didn’t care.”

Ominis slowly moved his body back, a sense of shame washing over him. He hadn’t realized how much it all had taken out of you, and now he was forcing you to relive it for some selfish need of his.

“You all just looked at me and saw my magic, not the teenager who needed help.”

The sadness in your voice nearly broke Ominis’ heart, he nearly collapsed when the first sob reached his ears.

Without hesitation, he pulled you into his arms, wrapping his arms tightly around you, holding onto you with both arms as if his life depended on it. His face pressed against the crown of your head, letting you cry onto his shoulder while he held you close.

For a moment, you forgot all about the tears that were streaming down your cheeks. All your pain melted away the longer you buried yourself against him, feeling his heartbeat calm down your own heartache. His warmth radiated from him, warming you up in a way nothing else could.

After a few minutes, you calmed down entirely, feeling more relaxed than you had in weeks. You pulled back slightly from the embrace, looking directly at the blonde, wiping the tears from your eyes.

“I’m sorry you went through everything by yourself. If I’d known, I would’ve done more to support you,” he whispered, cupping your cheek in his palm. “And I’m sorry I didn’t notice how much pain you’ve been carrying until now.” His thumb caressed the corner of your eye, wiping the remnants of stray tears.

“I didn’t tell you all of that for an apology, I’m not angry, Ominis,” you assured, leaning into his touch. “It wasn’t your fault. I don’t blame you.”

“It still hurts to think I failed to notice all your struggles.”

“You and Sebastian were dealing with struggles of your own, it’s okay.”

“Struggles that you helped carry. You went out of your way to help so many people, the least we could’ve done was notice how much you were cracking under the pressure.”

Without much thought, you placed your hand on top of his, pulling your lips up into a small smile. “Don’t do that to yourself, Ominis. Stop blaming yourself. You’ve always been a source of light for me, I promise.”

His eyebrows rose in surprise, “Really?”

“Really. I’m grateful to have met you.” Your words made Ominis blush deeply, making your heart skip a beat. His own smile grew wider once he recovered and he brushed the tip of his finger across the edge of your mouth lightly. A shiver ran down your spine, your heart pounding in your chest.

“I wish to always be that light for you, Y/N. If you’ll have me.” His expression seemed pleading, begging for your answer.

As if on instinct, you leaned in to press a quick kiss to his soft bottom lip. A soft gasp escaped you as soon as he responded by placing his fingers on either side of your face, deepening the kiss.

His lips were warm against yours, his tongue slipping between them and exploring every inch of your mouth. You couldn’t contain the sigh that left your lips, relaxing into him as he continued the kiss.

This was what you wanted, you told yourself. To be loved like this. To be desired. And you found it, in the arms of another human being, you found happiness.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Silver Lining 8

Warnings: non/dubcon, speech impediment, bullying and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

Characters: silverfox!Bucky Barnes

Summary: You have an unpleasant encounter with an older man.

Part of the Silverfox AU

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.

You lose yourself in the trance of your work. Just like you used to in the office. You have a way of blocking out the entire world when it's just you and words. You have your fingers curled into your lower lip as you reread what you hope it the last version.

You have one leg crossed over the other, jittering as you scroll. A sudden squeeze on your shoulder makes you jump and you clap your hand over your mouth to catch your scream. You swivel in the chair to face the disturbance.

Bucky looks amused as he steps back, dragging his hand away, "sorry," his voice is low and gritty as he tries to upset the quiet, "I called your name."

"S-sorry," you nearly hiccup, "I was f-focused."

"Seems like it," he hugs an armful of books, "almost done?"

"Y-yeah, the doc-- sh-should be up-da-dated."

He dips his chin and his eyes narrow just a bit, "you alright?"

"Ye-yes, you d-don't ne-need to w-wor-r-ry," your voice cracks as you check that all the changes are saved and log out of your account.

"Just.... checking," he murmurs. "I just know..." he clears his throat and shifts the book in his arm, "when you're worked up, you tend to.... never mind."

"St-st-stutter," you click out of the session and the PC returns to the login page, "I kn-know."

"I wasn't meaning it as anything."

"It i-is what it i-is," you shrug and stand to pull on your coat then gather your purse and your zip up folder.

"I really hope you're not upset."

"D-do you?" You counter, "you d-don't have to p-pretend."

"I'm not," he frowns, "look, I know I was a bit of a prick before but I'm tryna make up for it."

"S-sure," you say dully, "i-it r-really is f-fine. Let's get th-this done."

He's silent as his nostrils flare. He looks around then looks at you, taking in your purse and your lilac leather folio.

"So... what happened to the computer?"

You look away, "y-yeah, it--it fell," you sniff, "I-I'll get s-something else."

"Explains a lot."

"Wh-what?"

"Why you're at the library. I get a very homebody type sense from you."

"Y-you d-do?"

"I'm the same way," he says, "I'm not a fan of the general public."

"F-figured," you agree.

He tilts his head, "I deserve that."

You don't reply. That's that. You're both socially inept.

"Ready to go? You wanna look around first?" He asks, sweeping back a grey swoop of hair as he it falls forward.

You shake your head. You're really not feeling well. You don't know if it's the lack of sleep or the dregs of your flashbacks, you just feel so off. Like something really bad is going to happen.

He gestures you ahead of him as he pivots on his heel. You take the lead and head for the front doors. He follows not far behind. He must've already checked out as the censors doing chime at his passing. Outside, you stop short, realising you don't know where you're headed next.

He collides with you from behind, grunting as his hand briefly clutches your side. He apologise and sidles away. The contact makes your face burn against the bitter chill.

"Parked over this way," He points ahead of himself.

You walk beside him and turn off into the lot. There aren't many cars and you wait for him to get in before you claim the passenger's side. He starts the motor and adjusts the heat, asking if you're cold but getting only a shrug in return. Your mind is far off and hard to rein in.

Before you know it, the car is moving. It isn't until the tires crunch of snow and he turns into a driveway that you fully process what's going on. You agreed to go to his place but why would you do that? Why didn't you ask yourself that earlier. Oh gosh, you need sleep. You need to get your head straight.

This is exactly why you're in therapy. It's why you're trying to change. You want to stop being that person who just lets things happen to them.

He turns off the engine and you just sit staring through the windshield. You want to go home but not really. Your family doesn't want you around to stain their perfect image. You're clearly better off with this man who can only tolerate you professionally.

“You okay?” He asks yet again.

“Yep, all g-good,” you shake it off. “Y-you said you h-had a re-re-recording set-up?”

“Sure, yeah, been working on it a while now but with the script coming together, I finally got my ass in gear and got the last few pieces,” he explains.

“Must h-have been ex-expensive.”

“Eh, I budgeted,” he pulls the handle on his door, “no use staying out in this cold.”

He gets out and you do the same. You trail him up the shoveled walk, glistening with a thin layer of sparse snow newly fallen. The house is pretty nice. It's not too dissimilar to your parents but there are no bright Christmas lights or ridiculous inflatable decorations on the lawn.

He unlocks the front door and holds it open, ushering you in first. You're mindful not to step off the mat as you bend to unlace your boots. He steps in close and slips out of his own bulky boots. He stands first as you balance your purse and folio in one arm.

“Want me to take all that?” He offers.

You shake your head and straight, “g-got it.”

“Right well, you want something to warm up first?” He unzips his jacket, “I have some tea or coffee.”

“No, th-thanks,” you unbutton your coat, shrugging off one sleeve at a time. He takes it from you and hangs it with his own.

“Okay, I suppose I should show you around,” he sighs, taking out his phone as a soft buzz vibrates the case. “Not this guy again.”

He ignores the call and slides his phone into his back pocket, “the studio is in the basement. Best place to soundproof–”

He stops as you hear a car outside. He brushes by you in the entryway and pulls back the curtain over the window set into the door. You huffs again.

“Can't take a hint.”

“I c-can g-go. C-come back later.”

“Nah, it's fine,” he dismisses you as he opens the door, “go home. I'm busy.”

“Ah, come on, Buck, you're gonna ditch me out in the cold,” the voice wafts back on the crisp air as treads mulch in the snow. The timbre makes your heart knot, you swear it's familiar.

“I can and I will,” Bucky avows as he starts to close the door.

“Wait, wait,” the footfalls pick up and a large hand catches the door, “I'm here on business–”

“I told you, Steve…”

The name plummets in your chest. No, no, it can't be. It can't be him. It's a coincidence. The peek of a rolex under his jacket sleeve is just a coincidence, the voice is not the same, just familiar.

“Just hear me out, okay? You're gonna love this project,” the man bulls his way through the door, getting a grunt from Bucky in return. “I'll even pay you this time–”

The man's voice halts as he senses your presence, your dumbfounded gaze, the whole word zeroing in as your ears ring. It is him. It can't be. This has to be a dream. He only comes in your nightmares.

He looks at you and you know. He's real.

[fafnir19]

I did'nt know if you still took requests but I grew up kind of nerdy. I had a dad that was like that, always into computers and books. As I am now almost 40, I would like to know what my life would have been like had my dad been a bodybuilder or just more athletic.

As you step into the sleek, futuristic VR lab, a tingling excitement fills you. The dimly lit room is filled with humming servers and flashing monitors. Dr. Smith, the head of R&D, greets you with a warm smile. "Welcome. Are you ready to test our latest creation?" You nod eagerly, fumbling with the VR-remote as Dr. Smith explains, "This prototype VR system can simulate alternate timelines based on your past decisions. It's a glimpse into what could have been if you made different choices." As you step into the sleek, futuristic VR chamber, the air hums with anticipation. The prototype VR system gleams with promise, surrounded by a tangle of wires and blinking lights. Your heart races with a mixture of excitement and apprehension.

"Are you ready to begin the simulation?" a voice crackles through the speakers. You nod, swallowing hard, your father's IT prowess echoing in your mind. "What would you change if you could?" the voice whispers in your ear. "Hmm, I wonder how this will turn out," you mumble to yourself, take a deep breath and declare, "I want to change my father from being an IT-nerd to a fitness coach." As the words leave your lips, the room shimmers and shifts before your eyes. The room you find yourself in is eerily familiar yet strangely different. The walls are plastered with posters of modern-day superheroes instead of the old-school bands you used to love. Your gaze falls upon the sleek gaming setup in the corner, a stark contrast to the clunky computer your younger self once had. Your reflection in the mirror reveals a scrawny teenager staring back at you, a stark contrast to your 40-year-old self. The VR system's effects seem so real, yet you're aware it's still the current year.

As you sat in your room, immersed in the virtual reality experience, the door creaked open, and in stepped your father. His appearance had transformed into that of a fitness coach, looking determined and energetic.

He began, "Son, I've found the perfect sport for you." "Sigh... Dad, can we talk about this? I've tried so many sports already, and they're just not my thing," you countered, a hint of frustration creeping into your voice. Your father, now fixated on his newfound passion for fitness, insisted, "But you haven't tried cycling yet! It's the perfect blend of exercise and fun. You'll love it, I promise." Frustration turned to exasperation as you realized he wasn't going to back down. "Dad, I appreciate your enthusiasm, but I'm just not as sporty as you. Can't we find something else to do this summer?" His brow furrowed, and with a determined gleam in his eye, he declared, "No arguments this time, son. You're going to that cyclist's camp for the summer, and that's final." You let out a defeated groan, knowing it was futile to fight against his newfound fitness obsession. Reluctantly, you mumbled, "Fine, I'll go to the cyclist's camp. But I'm not promising I'll enjoy it." Your father nodded, satisfied with your acceptance, and left the room, leaving you to contemplate the summer ahead filled with cycling adventures.

Some weeks later you find yourself among picturesque mountains in the hated cycling camp. You pedaled hard on the race bike, feeling the strain in your muscles as you tried to keep up with the rest of the cyclists in the camp, but to no avail.

You were feeling the strain in your muscles and the sweat running down your back, as the coach approached you. "Hey, I've got something for you," he said, handing you a pair of sleek glasses.

You put them on, and suddenly the world around you shifts, numbers and data streaming across your vision. Your speed and heart rate, along with the optimal pace and cadence – all displayed in glowing letters.

The information overwhelming you at first. You let out a frustrated scream, "What is this? I can't see anything with all this data in my face!" The coach chuckled, "Just give it a chance. Focus on the line, that's all you need to see." Despite your initial resistance, you forced yourself to concentrate on the slim line that appeared amidst the sea of statistics. It was the perfect course, guiding you through the twists and turns of the cycling track. As you continue riding, the glasses gradually limit your view of the environment until all you can see is the slim line indicating the optimal course. Finally the environment fades away completely, leaving you with only the essential data.

You panic at first, feeling disoriented without being able to see your surroundings and so you couldn't help but protest, "I can't see anything else! How am I supposed to ride like this?" The coach's voice was stern, "Trust the glasses, trust the process. It will help you focus and improve your skills." Reluctantly, you continued to ride, adjusting to the restricted vision. It was frustrating at first, but gradually, you felt your mind quieting down, focusing solely on the slim line in front of you. It was strangely calming, allowing you to block out distractions and concentrate solely on the ride. As days turned into weeks, you found yourself improving dramatically. Your movements were smoother, your reactions quicker. The coach nodded in approval, watching as you navigated the course with precision. Despite the progress, you couldn't deny that you still didn't enjoy sports.

One day, as you pedaled through another successful training session, you felt an unfamiliar sensation stirring within you. Arousal. At first, it was a mere flicker, but soon it blazed through your veins, igniting a fire you never knew existed. Your body reacted without your consent, your member throbbing insistently within the confines of your tight cycling suit, creating a visible bulge that couldn't be ignored. Just as you were lost in this strange mix of pleasure and confusion, the VR system abruptly announced, "Ending VR-Test; leave VR experience or stay to turn VR into reality. VR conversion to reality starts soon." At that very moment, your glasses projected a command to accelerate your speed and cadence on the bike, a directive you found impossible to resist. You obeyed, feeling the rush of the wind against your face as your pleasure heightened with each passing moment. Faster and faster you rode, your body responding eagerly to the physical exertion. Your arousal peaked, your cock growing so hard it felt almost painful. And then, in a climax of both pleasure and exhaustion, you finally succumbed, falling from the bike in a euphoric daze. Your breath comes in ragged gasps, a sense of both satisfaction and confusion washing over you. "Conversion VR to reality completed in 3 ... 2 ... 1," the VR system announces, jolting you back to reality. Panic sets in as you desperately try to end the experience, but it's too late. The VR remote dissolved into thin air, leaving you trapped in your teenage-self in this new, perplexing reality.

As you lay there, grappling with your newfound circumstances, the coach approached with a knowing smile. His gaze fell upon the cum-stained cycling suit, a clear indicator of the glasses' influence on your desires. "The brainwashing glasses have obviously done their task," he remarks, his tone laced with amusement. "Your body's desire is now intertwined with cycling. You'll become a pro cyclist in no time." Still grappling with the bizarre turn of events, you reluctantly nodded in agreement. What choice did you have in this altered reality?

With a gentle yet firm tone, the coach suggested, "You might want to consider shaving your body hair. It could make you faster on the bike, you know." Feeling overwhelmed by the abrupt changes thrust upon you, you hesitantly agreed and made your way to the shower after the grueling training session.

As you attempted to shave yourself, the unfamiliarity of the task led to a few accidental cuts with the razor. Suddenly, a fellow cyclist appeared by your side, offering a helping hand. His touch was surprisingly gentle as he took over the task of shaving you, his skilled hands gliding smoothly over your skin. The sensation of the razor against your inner thighs and pubic area triggered an unexpected reaction. A rush of arousal surged through you, causing a noticeable reaction in your groin. Embarrassment flushed your cheeks as you struggled to contain your body's instinctual response. The other cyclist, noticing your discomfort, reassured you in a calm voice, "Getting a boner is a completely natural reaction, especially in a situation like this. And besides, you're rather cute." His words were oddly comforting, easing some of the tension that had coiled within you. Before you could fully process his kindness, he leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to your lips. Surprised yet strangely intrigued by the unexpected gesture, you couldn't help but entertain the fleeting thought, "Maybe my new life isn't that bad after all." Meanwhile, the coach, who had been observing the scene unfold, couldn't help but smirk at the dynamics taking shape within the team. "The side effect of the glasses, turning the boys bi, certainly creates an interesting new dynamic, wouldn't you say?" he mused, his eyes glinting with amusement at the unfolding changes in the team's dynamics.

Enjoy the ride of your new life, cyclist!

[jerzwriter]

Kaycee has had an exceptionally rough week and is nearing the end of her rope. That's when her secret boyfriend, Ethan, comes up with a plan to help them both recoup. But will their cover be blown? Book: Open Heart (Late Book 2 Timeline) Pairing: Ethan Ramsey x F!MC (Kaycee MacClennan) Rating: Teen Words: 2,300 Trope: Hurt/Comfort; Secret Romance Summary: Above A/N: Participating in @choicesaugustchallenge - Day 2 - Beach Date; also sundress & fireworks. I did not have time to edit much, so be kind :)

It had been the week from hell. Kaycee glanced at her watch and grimaced. Slumping against the nurses’ station, she rubbed her temples with a sigh as Sienna looked on sympathetically.

“I’m never going to make it,” Kaycee groaned. “Five more hours? Nope. I’m not going to make it.”

“You’ll make it just fine,” Sienna said with a reassuring smile. "But what’s going on?”

“It’s been a very tough week.  Two double shifts, code after code, too many accidents, several difficult patient losses... I’m just... I'm burnt out. I need a break."

At that moment, Ethan approached the nurses’ station. Deeply involved in a conversation with Harper, he hadn’t noticed Kaycee at first, but he raised his eyes with concern when he heard the tail-end of her conversation.

“That’s a lot,” Sienna replied. “We've all had those weeks, and they're hard. So, besides the batch of Snickerdoodle cookies that I'll be making for you, is there anything I can do to help you?”

“I'll be fine,” Kaycee half-smiled, angry at herself for the tears rising in her eyes...she should be stronger than this. “But I could really use a hug.”

That’s all she had to say. Sienna jumped up from her chair and wrapped Kaycee in a warm embrace. “Hey,” Sienna whispered. “When’s your next break? Why don’t we take a walk to Derry’s? The change of scenery might help.”

“I’d like that,” Kaycee smiled softly. She wiped a tear that threatened to fall from the corner of her eye and turned back to the station. That’s when her eyes met Ethan’s.

His heart had been clenching in his chest as he watched the situation unfold. He understood her more than most, and with just a glance, he could see her pain and self-doubt forming.  All he wanted to do was hold her, but he couldn’t. Not here. The rumor mill was already abuzz with gossip about the two of them, but they decided to keep their relationship under wraps. It was best for everyone, but at times like this, it didn’t feel ‘best’ at all.

All he could do was nod sympathetically in her direction, aware that this act alone could raise brows. After all, in the past, catching a resident in Kaycee's condition would have launched him into a tirade advising them to reconsider their career choices... now... he no longer felt that way, and it wasn’t only with Kaycee. He had to admit, she had brought a level of humanity back to him, one he thought for sure had been lost for good. Kaycee had changed his world for the better in so many ways, and here she was suffering, and he had to pretend he didn't see.

“Harper,” Ethan interrupted. “Would you mind if we scheduled sometime later to discuss this? I just remembered I have to tend to something right now.”

He headed to his private office and texted Kaycee to meet him there. In case prying eyes were around her, he made it professional but included a code they had created.

“Dr. MacTavish, can you please come to my office? I’m questioning your judgment on her treatment plan for the patient in 215."

“I’m questioning your judgment.” Kaycee hid her smile when she read those words. That’s what he told her the first time she told him that she loved him. “I question your judgment, Rookie,” he grinned. Now, when they sent those words to each other, it was code for "I need you."  

Kaycee rushed to his office, assuming he needed help. When she stepped in, he greeted her with a stern gaze and gruffly instructed her to close the door. She complied at once, and by the time she turned around, he was already there – wrapping her in a warm embrace.  

“What’s going on, Kaycee,” he said with a kiss atop her head. “I can tell you’re having a hard day.”

“I am,” she said, resting her head on his shoulder and clutching the lapels of his lab coat. "Don't worry. I’ll get through. Sometimes, it’s just... hard."

He led her to the sofa, where he watched intently as she talked. “It’s not one thing; it’s a myriad of things that all add up. I’m working more than usual this week, so I'm exhausted. I’ve had a bunch of difficult cases. I haven’t been eating or sleeping right, and...” she hesitated.

“And?”

“And sometimes all I want is my boyfriend to squeeze my hand as I pass him in the hall to reassure me that everything will be OK, but we can’t even do that.”

“Kaycee, you know I want to. It's just...”

“Shhh,” she smiled sadly, silencing him with a kiss. “I know why we can’t, and I agree with our decision. But that doesn’t make it easier.”

“It’s not forever,” he reminded as she nuzzled closer, her arms pulling her tight.

In an attempt at levity, he chuckled. “Hey, at least you didn’t catch anyone flirting with me today.”

Kaycee’s hand was already on the doorknob when she turned around and smirked. "Fifth floor, by the elevator. That damn nurse from peds that still thinks she has a chance with you.”

“You caught that?” Ethan winced.

“Don’t worry,” Kaycee winked. “You handled it like a pro.” She mouthed I love you, as she opened the door, and he did the same. The situation wasn’t ideal, but Kaycee had to admit she felt much better.

Unfortunately, Ethan did not. He loved and admired her more than he could express. He needed to offer her more than five minutes of support hidden in the shadows as if they were doing something wrong when nothing could be further from the truth.

He immediately checked their schedules; they were both off this weekend, and his wheels began to spin.

~~~~~

Saturday morning, Kaycee was waiting on the front steps when Ethan pulled up to her home. He smiled as she approached the car wearing his favorite sundress, a pair of sunglasses covering too much of her beautiful face, and a big floppy hat perched precariously atop her head. She was adorable, but he hoped this was just her style and not an attempt to disguise herself. After all, that’s exactly what he hoped to avoid this weekend. She slid into the passenger seat and squeezed his hand, giving him a surreptitious kiss on his cheek.

“You look adorable,” he smiled.

Kaycee lowered her sunglasses and shot him a look. “I’ll take it... though usually for hot with you... not adorable."

“You’re always hot,” he growled. Kaycee went to put her sunglasses back on, but he stopped her. “Nah-ah-ah. Take those off.”

“Why?”

Ethan reached into the glove compartment and retrieved a black blindfold. Kaycee raised a brow. “What’s that for?”

“I don’t want you to know where I’m taking you. It’s a surprise,” he held the blindfold up. “May I.”

“Fine. As long as this isn’t something kinky,” she smirked.

“It’s not,” he laughed. “At least not now.”

The ride was longer than expected, and at times, the blindfold became a bit annoying. But the constant conversation and Ethan not letting go of her hand helped. Then, he even put on her playlist, and she had to ask what he was up to. But all he did was chuckle and kiss her hand.

When the car finally stopped, and he opened her door, a smile crept onto Kaycee’s face. She could smell the salty air and knew they were at the beach at once. It had become a special place for him, though this summer hadn’t afforded them many chances to go. He helped her to her feet and untied the blindfold. She couldn't stop smiling when she saw where they were. The little cabin they had rented on the Cape once before was right in front of her.

“I thought this place was rented straight through next summer!” she beamed.

“It is,” he said, grabbing a bag from the trunk. “I’m not going to tell you what I had to do in order to get this.”

“Hey, as long as it has nothing to do with that hot nurse in peds, I’m OK with it,” she winked.

He took her hand and led her toward the front door. “It’s only for one night,” he said. “I’ll be sure to have you back for your evening shift tomorrow. But, I thought we could use some time away from Boston. I wanted to be someplace we can be ourselves and where we don’t have to hide. Here, I’m not Dr. Ramsey, and you’re not Dr. MacTavish – we’re just a couple – enjoying our time together.”

Kaycee’s face lit up. “God, Ethan... I love you,” she beamed. “But I didn’t pack. You didn’t say it was an overnighter.”

He lifted the bag at his side with a smile. “I packed for you. Besides, once we return here tonight, clothing will be optional.”

“I like the way you think,” she purred.

They spent the day strolling the beach, splashing in the surf, and stopping at quaint shops in town. Ethan took her to a little café that he used to visit with his parents years before and was delighted to see they still served old-fashioned egg creams, and he ordered two right away. He held her hand as they watched children flying kites, and he had to smile at how Kaycee stopped to make friends with every single dog they passed along the way.

“If medicine doesn’t walk out for you, I think a doggie daycare is the way for you to go,” he laughed.

“Please! Don’t tempt me!”

They sat on a dock as the sun began to set, their feet dangling over the side as they worked quickly to lick their ice cream cones to prevent the melted ice cream from falling onto their hands.

“What’s next?” Kaycee asked.

“Fireworks,” he grinned. “They’ll be starting as soon as the sun sets.”

Kaycee nuzzled her head into his shoulder, and his hand looped around her waist.

“This has been the perfect day, Ethan. This is exactly what I needed.”

It was what he needed, too. A day when they put their professional lives behind them. A day away from prying eyes and gossiping lips. He was just Ethan. She was just Kaycee. Just a couple lost in each other on a beautiful beach.... and they didn’t have to hide!

They were basking in the glow as the sun descended, and the fireworks were about to start. Kaycee giggled with anticipation as she held Ethan’s hand when...

“Ethan? Ethan Ramsey? Is that you?”

Ethan's body stiffened, and Kaycee’s heart skipped a beat. “Is that?” she asked, immediately dropping her hand from his.

“It is,” he sighed.

Peter Blumenthal, from Edenbrook’s Board of Directors. With him are his wife, Eugenia, and their daughter, Kimmie, whom Peter had been trying to push Ethan for years.

“Don’t leave me,” he winced, though he knew she had no choice. Adjusting her hat to conceal her identity, she managed to tell Ethan she’d meet him back at the cabin, and then she disappeared into the crowd that had assembled on the pier.

From a distance, Kaycee heard them exchanging pleasantries. She could sense Ethan’s discomfort in his voice, and she wished she could swoop in and save him, but she couldn't. Her hat bopped on her head as she moved along, apologizing as she bumped into people as she pushed her way through the crowd. She reached their little cabin and shut the door behind her just as the fireworks began, her face faltering when she realized they’d have to be missed.

She sat on the couch and waited for him to return. With each passing moment, she missed him, but in this instance, she got the better end of the deal. She knew how much he hated dealing with Board Members at work; she could only imagine how irritated he was having to do it now. Her heart fluttered with delight when she heard him at the door.

“Hey,” she beamed. “Are we safe? They didn’t see me, did they?”

Ethan sat beside her, wrapping her in a tight embrace. “If they did, they didn’t let on. They were too busy trying to marry me off to Kimmie.”

“Oh, hell no!” Kaycee laughed. “Sorry, Kimmie, but this man is all mine!”

"You better believe it!" Ethan looked at her with sympathetic eyes. “I’m so sorry it's like this, Kaycee. We shouldn't have to be a secret and I know how hard this is."

Kaycee waived her hand, easing his concern. “Baby, it’s OK. I don’t like it either, but we know why we’re doing it. In the end, we’re protecting me most of all. I worked too damn hard to get to where I am for anyone to suggest I slept my way to the top.”

“Well, on an up note, Edenbrook and Boston are rather progressive. If we were caught, there would be at least as many people who believed I was a vile man preying on an innocent young resident. So...” he grinned cheesily. “Both of our careers would be ruined.”

“Good,” Kaycee laughed, “That makes me feel so much better.”

Ethan pulled her closer, and they kissed passionately as the boom of pyrotechnics exploded in the distance.

Kaycee pulled away, a hint of sadness in her eyes. “It was a perfect day, Ethan. But I hate that we have to miss the fireworks!”

Ethan cupped her cheek, and she knew that look in his eyes. “I wouldn’t say we’re missing the firework,” he said, pushing her sundress strap off her shoulder and gently kissing the bare skin left behind. “We’re going to have fireworks right here, just not the kind that blow up in the sky.”

"Oooh," Kaycee groaned with delight. “I like that kind so much better."

"As do I," he replied, scooping her up and rushing to the bedroom.

While tourists and locals spent the night watching the spectacular show in the sky, Ethan and Kaycee spent it lost in their own world, lost in each other. While they wished they didn't have to hide at all, tonight, they had to admit, they wanted nothing more than to hide away—together.

@choicesficwriterscreations @openheartfanfics

Tagging others separately.

[ryuzakemo128]

The Carina's Heart Galaxy

Chapter One: Terms & Conditions

Pairing: Poly!141 x Female Reader/ You

Content Warning: Drug use, Emotional Distress, Grief, Humiliation, Disarray and Chaos.

Words: 1398

Masterlist

Note: Up to you to on which one from task force 141 should be talking to you in the diner.

Credit for Dividers (And Template): @cafekitsune + @strangergraphics

Summary: Why would you? Who would date a nerd like you? No one ever did during high school or college. So why would anyone date you now?

You are a qualified Physicist working in Quantum Physics and Quantum Computing. It is two subjects near and dear to your heart. Something you have poured ten years of your life into. A love you knew only in romance movies and cheesy romance novels. You had no intention of dating an actual person. Why would you? Who would date a nerd like you? No one ever did during high school or college. So why would anyone date you now?

You had a roommate who had more boyfriends than you had chances at dating. You are an anomaly, you had expertise in areas like gaming, physics, Krav Maga and Taekwondo. Pottery and ceramics were your way to soothe yourself when you felt like your world was ending. Even though everyone else seemed to be fine.

One afternoon while you were clearing out the at the end of your shift. You were about to leave to head to your black vintage impala. Your father had it, and he passed it down to you when he passed from liver cancer. You packed your gear from the day's failed experimental trial.

When you reached home, crashing in your basement bedroom after changing into something more comfortable. A black turtleneck and a deep brown cardigan, followed by grey sweatpants.

You made a dating profile months ago. Discarding it when you didn't have any luck through it or offline. Your bio had “I'm a former fat kid, turned physicist nerd, cat person and prefers cats. A master of Krav Maga and Taekwondo. Studying in Astrophysics to broaden my array of knowledge. If you're willing to put up with a nerd like me, then let's talk otherwise. Thank you for your time and consideration.”

Your roommate found your dating profile and laughed hysterically. “You actually made a dating profile?” She gasped, her laughter turning into a wheezing fit.

“I made it years ago. I stopped looking at it when I had no luck in the realm of dating.” You told her. “As far I am aware, a nerd has no chance in that world.”

While you were talking with fervent, frenetic, frantic passionate lecture of Quantum computing, your roommate was talking to guys at the charity ball, you were so into it. Your roommate told you to stop talking about your work, but it came out accidentally. You stopped after apologising and when you attempted to leave early.

You never felt so embarrassed in your life. “What is the use of a charity about quantum physics if no one talks about it?” you said to yourself, mostly.

“You're so weird,” she scoffed, her voice dripping with disdain. “People want to talk about fun stuff, not quantum physics.”

You didn't speak for the rest of the night, mainly hiding at your table until your roommate left a random. You walked to the diner to eat something. The starry dress you wore felt more like one made for a child. A childish desire. You didn't feel pretty as you thought you were.

You sat in the booth in the dim lit diner, hoping to hide in your shame. You ordered two burgers, a heap of sweet potato chips and three sodas. All for yourself. “My diet is in ruins.” you muttered to yourself.

You were interrupted when a figure slid into the booth across from you, their presence commanding a blend of confidence and casual ease. You glanced up, the dim light revealing a man with a rugged demeanour and an aura that suggested he was someone who had seen and experienced much of the world. His dark, intense eyes met yours with a mixture of curiosity and amusement.

“Mind if I join you?” His voice was deep, tinged with a faint accent that was hard to place. He settled in before you could respond, seemingly unaffected by your surprise. “Seems like you're in need of some company.”

You hesitated, momentarily caught off guard by the intrusion. “I, uh, wasn't expecting anyone,” you stammered, your fingers nervously fiddling with the edge of your starry dress. “I'm just here to... eat and wallow in my embarrassment.”

He chuckled, a sound that was both soothing and unsettling. “Well, that makes two of us. I was just looking for a place to unwind and maybe drown out some of my own frustrations. Seems like fate brought us together.”

“I don't believe in stuff like that. Reserved for romantic novels and romantic comedies,” you snorted. “Quantum entanglement disproves it too sufficiently. You know, when two particles link together in a certain way no matter how far apart they are in space. However, no one takes it as romantic as I see it most of the time.”

The man leaned back, crossing his arms as he studied you with an expression that was both intrigued and amused. “Quantum entanglement, huh? Sounds like you’ve got quite the mind for this sort of thing. Most people wouldn’t bring up particle physics at a diner.”

“Limited areas for lectures and what not.” you sighed as you went back to your wagyu burgers. He commented on them with, “Wagyu burgers, huh? You’ve got good taste. I wouldn’t have pegged you for someone who indulges in such luxuries.”

“You should see me with sushi, I eat more there. It's my ultimate guilty pleasure, well of them. Another is breakfast quesadillas.”

The man’s eyebrows lifted, a smirk playing on his lips as he leaned forward, clearly intrigued. “Sushi and breakfast quesadillas, huh? I have to admit, you’re full of surprises. But tell me, what brings you to a diner late at night, eating your way through the menu?”

“Other than eating my feelings?” you snorted. “I guess I’m just feeling a bit out of place. There was this charity ball earlier tonight, and let’s just say I wasn’t exactly the life of the party.”

The man’s gaze softened, his earlier amusement giving way to a more empathetic expression. “Sounds like you had a rough night. I get it—sometimes we all need a bit of solace, a place to be ourselves without the pretence. I’m more than happy to lend an ear if you want to talk about it.”

“Eh, at this stage. I think it's better to forget it happened.” You replied. “I have Stella and my new kittens to worry about.”

The man’s interest seemed to intensify at the mention of your pets. “Stella and your kittens, huh? They sound like a source of comfort for you. I’ve always found that animals can be some of the best company when you’re feeling out of place.”

“Stella is my car out there.” you said, pointing to a vintage black Chevrolet Impala 1967. “My old man loved his coffee and dipping stale bread inside it. Loved take-out more than anything. Died from liver cancer when we all thought it would be cardiac complications. I never expected him to go, not this soon. I guess he’s the reason I keep the car and the habits he loved alive. Stella’s a relic of him—there's something comforting about driving her, like I’m still connected to him.”

The man leaned in, his expression a mix of curiosity and genuine interest. “I can’t help but be intrigued by your story. You’re not like anyone I’ve met before. Most people wouldn’t open up like this to a stranger in a diner.”

“Well, when you have nothing to lose. You end up making weird choices.” you commented. “Or in my case. Get sucked into probability and win heaps of money during a trip to a casino.”

The man’s eyes widened slightly at your unexpected confession, his curiosity piqued even further. “A casino, huh? You’ve had a run of luck, it seems. Most people would shy away from such bold revelations. But here you are, sharing it with a complete stranger.”

“Like I said, when you have nothing to lose. You end up making weird, odd choices with reckless abandon.” you confessed, “I guess you could call it a form of catharsis. Or in this case. Getting high as a kite.”

The man chuckled when you said, ‘getting high as a kite.’  He leaned back in the chair, “Interesting way to cope. But you do you, I guess.”

By the time you were home, you walked into a mess, you frowned thinking, ‘What on earth happened while I was gone?’

[boundinparchment]

Let’s Fall Silent

He was created as a companion to a capricious dawn; rejected, he haunted the waters of Snezhnaya until he grew bored. Saved by a foolish inventor, he wonders if there is more to life than his rejected purpose.

Or: whatever happened to that merman Dottore segment?

Sequel to my fic, “Endless.”

RATING EXPLICIT. MINORS DNI. ON AO3 HERE.

Water rushed through his gills and oxygen flooded his system in steady, rolling waves.  He didn’t need to breathe but yet his body seemed perfectly suited to do so, yearned to.

He looked down, the shining blue scales of his tail resembling stones he knew only in name and vague understanding.  Knowledge that was not his but readily given, as if he’d already read ten thousand books.  Webs between his fingers were gossamer thin and yet seemed to catch and push water as if made of the strongest steel blades.  

His fingers looked as if he’d dipped them in the reflections of the night sky, scales shimmering and shifting with the light.  

There was a weight on his right ear, a glass tube that seemed to contain a type of water.  Touching it sent faint shockwaves through his fingers and head, voices echoing distantly.

He assessed his surroundings: a tall man with blue hair and a white coat, eyes hidden; a clear boundary between them; a flicker of sunset out of the corner of his eye.  The creature titled its head, the fins on either side of his head flitting with the motion.  

Creator.  Right.  His image was almost identical to the bipedal human before him.  Intended for…

He turned his head, garnet eyes falling in the direction he felt another presence.

A flash of a memory—not his—told him everything.

Rejected without ever having a chance.  The dawn would kill him for carrying out his purpose if he ever so much as approached her.  Understandably so.  Sensations welled up inside him, foreign and intruded upon, not his to feel.  Although the man on the other side of the glass (yes, that was the word) had made him, he was nothing but a vessel for wish-fulfillment.  A bridge built to cross a too-large gap.

His Creator was a curious man.  Whether he wanted to see the dawn’s reaction to the addition to her tank or because he was too far along in the process to stop didn’t matter to the finned mirror image.  The result was the same.  The merman was awake and contained every awareness that already, the tides had changed. 

An existential crisis was not on the agenda.  There was still plenty more to do.  An entire world outside of this tank.  The dawn came from somewhere, of course, and water was the necessity for all life.

He swam, gauged how far to move his arms and the proper movements of his tail.  Easy, fluid motions that allowed him to cut through water came from somewhere deeper than muscle memory.  Base instinct left little room for error.

“Our observation time is short, Nadir.  How do you feel?” 

The voice did not vibrate the water in the same fashion other sounds did.  The Creator’s mouth did not move as it did with her.  It felt as if the words floated in his mind like driftwood waiting to be collected.

And what was it he was called?  Nadir?  He was named?  Given an…identity?

He wracked his pre-filled memory banks.  The merman held back the biting laugh that threatened his lungs for a moment.  An amalgamation of both living creatures and he was named after the lowest point of the sun’s daily descent in the sky.  Arguably, he was also the lowest point in his Creator’s infatuation, given her blatant rejection of his attempt to give her companionship.

The man stared, awaiting a response.  His patience was thinning, lips pressed together.

“I am…fine.  I experience no pain.  I can see, hear, breathe, and move,” the Segment spoke.  

The sounds were strange and guttural and his mouth moved in unnatural motions.  His vocal cords did not like it.  They felt too loose and lacked control over the sounds.

“Can you not respond without moving your lips?  Without making a sound?” His Creator asked.

The merman, for he was beginning to understand the differences biologically and his own identity in more depth, schooled his expression and focused.  He tried to feel anything beyond himself, than the water on his skin that rippled his fins and the hum of the filtration system and the low hissing from the far corners of the tank network.  He could see his Creator, sense his presence in a physical understanding of him occupying space facing the tank.  Whispers crept up into his ear and throughout the base of his skull but it was akin to the way his Creator once pressed an ear to a closet door as a child.

One way.  He could listen and observe, distantly, but he could not partake.

All the better, really, Nadir considered.  The others were very loud and boisterous and clambering for attention.

The only attention the merman wanted was that of his intended companion.

But he was not eager to have his existence snuffed so quickly.

When Nadir did not reply, and instead shook his head, the man on the other side of the tank brought a hand to his lips.  Silence dominated.

Until the Creator’s shoulders rose and fell in a single motion when he reassessed what the Segment could only assume were notes. 

“Perhaps it is the medium required for your physical form that prevents the connection.  I had to make several modifications to account for waterproof mechanisms.  Sound travels differently in water.  It stands to reason that water would slow other waves down as well…”

The bipedal man dropped the papers with a flick of his wrist, uncaring and bored.  They were worthless now, in the face of recent events.  He approached the tank, arms behind his back.

“I am otherwise quite proud of this particular specimen, Fjar.  If he were to reside in the far reaches of the waters here, or live elsewhere, would you object?”

Ah, so that was her proper name.  The word was familiar, danced across his mind when he recalled memories of a name and another land.  Once again, none of it his .  Nadir had not existed properly until roughly twenty minutes ago.

The dawn spoke, her voice made for water, beautiful as the sunrise she represented.

“As long as he stays far away from me.  From us .  Your work is appreciated, my Zandik, but you know how I feel.  I will have you , not an imitation of you.  He will be safe provided he never approaches me.”

Nadir stared at his Creator, who raised his head a fraction before removing his mask.  Eyes as red as a blood moon watched the Segment in return.  Exhaustion tugged at the skin beneath his eyes and Nadir caught a flicker of hurt well-hidden behind a cold and calculating demeanor.

“There is no shortage of food and means to occupy yourself past the hole in the ice,” the man called Zandik said.  “Her territory does not extend past that delineation.  She has never been one to stray far from comfort.  I do not anticipate requiring your presence as I do the others, so you are free to go where you wish.”

The Creator returned his mask to his face and turned away from the tank before leaving the room.  He did not look back nor hesitate before he crossed the threshold and the door shut behind him.

Something constructed in Nadir’s chest and he could not, in all of the databanks and memories he was connected to, put a name to it.  It was not sharp, like a knife, but it persisted from his chest up through his throat and crawled over his tongue.  The sensation grew worse as the tank shimmered and flowed, the source obscured but unmistakable.  

The Segment dove and found the pipeline connected to the ocean depths.  His skin prickled as the temperature changed and the balance of minerals shifted.  

At first, he lingered.  How could he not?

The only other of his kind, manufactured though he was, lived in these waters.  He held memories of what it was to be on two legs and feet, feel sand between toes and the sun on a face that was his and yet not.  

The best way to learn and understand was to observe, watch, see what unfolded without interference.  

There was no point in staying where he was not wanted.  But if nothing else, such knowledge would help him survive elsewhere.

___________________

He grew bored within the year and set out from the reaches of the far north, with nothing but the currents and memories of maps as guides.  

Down here, beneath the ice and at such depth, hardly any sun reached through the frigid waters.  His Creator saw to it that his vision was intended for all environments but the winter months made it especially difficult when light was so infrequent.

The overworld was vast but the bodies of water were far larger still.  Nadir had the world between his fingertips.  Anywhere.  Everywhere.  He could go to the land of Freedom, where it was said the air was clear and the water even clearer; or perhaps to the reaches of the land of Eternity, where he might have better odds among the yokai; the nation of War was far too hot for his liking and the adepti of the land of Contracts were protective of their legacy.

His Creator spent time in…what was it…a fountain…ah, Fontaine!  Although the nation embodied Justice, it was said that all life sprang forth from the waters of the land of Hydro.   Zandik had enjoyed it there under a guise that had no name and was never recorded.  No doubt the waters would be crowded but of all nations, it seemed the most promising.

He stuck to the shadows of the water.  The voices at the base of his skull whispered, screamed, and shouted all the while.

Until one day, his ears began to ring after a muted pop and his vision went dark as he caught a glimpse of a waterfall in the moonlight.  ___________________

When he opened his eyes again, he felt rocks and silt beneath him.  Everything felt dry .  Disgustingly so, as if every water droplet was sucked from his entire being.  Something bright and painful winked down at him and with difficulty, he raised a hand to cover his eyes.

Pale strands of aquamarine hair clung to him, long and tangled.  Despite how arid everything felt, his hair continued to stick to everything.  When he was swimming, it didn’t matter much but now?  It just made his dry skin itchier.

He heard the splashing of water and his…tail, yes, that word seemed correct swayed with the soft current.  He couldn’t recall how he arrived here.  All he remembered was ringing, like high pressure, and darkness.

There was a sudden rustle and then another sound, foreign but soft.  

“Are you alright?”

He gritted his sharp teeth and lifted his arm.  What language were they even speaking ?  The light was now obscured and instantly his skin felt several degrees cooler.

His bleary garnet eyes focused on the object, no, person before him.  Backlit by the brilliant light in the sky (was that the sun?), he could make out wide eyes shot with concern but as stunning as gems, lips slightly parted as if to speak again, and colors framing you that he had no name for.

You.

You were beautiful.

He couldn’t help the smirk that crossed his face as a distant sensation swam in his mind that another might be jealous of you.

“Can you speak?” you asked.

His throat was arid, his tongue thick and rough.  He dared not trust his vocal cords and instead shook his head, grits of sand embedding into his hair.

You made a sound that made his heart jump, a rush of air passing through your lungs that mimicked bells.  Your smile was apologetic, sweet in the way your lips curved and your expression conveyed your sincerity. 

“Silly question, this place is eternally dry and you clearly belong in the water.  Let’s at least get the rest of your lower half in the water first.  You’re too striking and handsome to dry out.”

Forward, too.  Had he met others like you before?

Your hands were warm, a little rougher, and with a little assistance, he was sitting upright with his tail properly in the water.  He was already feeling a bit better, even if his gills felt dry as they laid flat against his neck and his second respiratory pathways took over.  His hair, he realized, was much longer than he initially thought, tickling his back.

He watched as you pulled out a flask, opened it, and held it out to him.  His red eyes traced the line from the canteen, to your hands, your arm, and then your face.

Human.  You were human, same as…

Same as who?

“At least take a sip so your throat isn’t dry,” you prompted.  “It’s safe, I swear.”

He took it and put the metal to his lips, which he now realized were painfully cracked, and let the water pass across his tongue and down his throat.  The water tasted of iodine and he gagged as he swallowed.

So he not only needed to be in water but he needed water to survive.  That seemed counter-intuitive.  After all, he was mechanical .  Or partially mechanical.  What purpose did such a thing serve?

“Certainly tasted otherwise,” he managed to choke out, holding the container out to you.

Your fingers were warm against his webbed fins and you didn’t even hesitate when your fingers brushed his claws.  He could not determine if you were very brave or very stupid for that, with the way your touch sent a jolt down his spine and into his tail.  

Thankfully, his lower half was in water as he silently cursed at the other sensations that arose.  He would have to research this experience further…

“Out here, the water has to be purified before it can be consumed.  At least for me, at any rate,” your smile showed your unspoken apology.  “Do you have a name?”

A question he could not answer.  At one point, he had to have.  Someone gave it to him.  The opposite point of the rising sun…

Before he could respond, your hands found his hair and settled on something he didn’t feel until you gave a gentle tug.

“Oh, that has to hurt, no?”

He liked when your voice was tinged with worry, especially for someone you barely knew.  That was kind of you, if not incredibly foolish.  So many in the water gave him a wide berth, avoided him, and for good reason.  Or so it seemed.  In hindsight, he had no explanation, no context, just…end results.

You tugged on a different spot and he gritted his teeth again.

“When you pull on it, human , yes, it hurts,” he spat.  “Are you always so callous with all you come across?”

“I’m sorry.  You have…that’s a fishing lure…and a piece of a net…that looks like some kind of mollusk…if you’re going to have long hair, you have to care for it…this isn’t salvageable…”. You sounded almost sad and you reached around to show him a crude pair of shears, large and clearly intended for working with harder materials than hair.  “I can cut it but I’d have to remove most of it.  Your neck would be bare.”

“Why would I trust the one tugging on me to use anything with a blade near me?” 

The question felt logical.  After all, you’d caused him great discomfort.  Interrupted what was likely meant to be the embrace of death.  Maybe death was the purpose, the point.  After all, he hadn’t felt anything other than the drive to explore and understand.  And if his body couldn’t go on, then what use was…

“I can leave it if you want but it’ll weigh you down and create more drag when you swim.  Not very aerodynamic, you know?”

He turned his head and felt his skin grow hot at how close your face was to his.  You smelled of sweat, dirt, and something uniquely you and his heart began its own unorganized rhythm.  That sensation that sat at the base of his spine tingled and turned into an ache as it ran through him, ruining whatever trains of thought he had.  Now, all he could think of was your lips and how much he wanted to feel your heat against him, around him, how he wanted to see your eyes blown dark with base need…

He swallowed when you smiled and your low laugh jostled your torso into his.  You were soft , Archons above, so soft…

Your eyes seemed to marvel for a moment, dropping to the bottom half of his face, before you spoke again.

“I gave you water and made sure you didn’t dry out like a raisin; surely that’s enough reason to trust me?  All I ask in return is your name.  So if our paths ever cross again, I know what to call you.  It’s only polite.”

He couldn’t reply, too preoccupied with preventing you from realizing whatever was happening under the water.  He did not remember much but he did recall that such base needs were…a boundary for most.  One he could not get a grasp on but you were far kinder than he anticipated…

Why did that preconceived notion exist if there was no evidence to support it?  What happened ?

He felt the wet hair fall away in chunks, his neck muscles instantly relieved as soon as most of the weight was gone.  You worked carefully when the locks were short enough and only twice did you ask for him to wet his head.  Something about an even plane to work with.  He closed his eyes and leaned back a little into your gentle touch.  You knew exactly how to run your hands through his hair against his scalp.  The only sounds between the two of you was the harsh click of the shears as you worked.  

All the while, he resisted the urge to place one hand in his lap.  He couldn’t determine if he wanted to hide his protruding appendage or stroke it.

No one had touched him.  Ever.  Whatever memories of who he was were vague if not outright gone entirely but he knew that much.  His life had been solitary and this need had never existed before.

“There, all done!” You chirped.  “It’s actually quite curly when it dries.  Suits you better, if I can say so myself!”

Curly?  

He brought a hand up and felt the locks, shorn and…oh, they flipped and had patterns of their own…

You stepped away and from the pack you had thrown down, you pulled out a panel of reflective silver.  

“Here.  I’m an inventor, not a hair stylist, but I think I managed to keep your handsome visage from being ruined.”

He stared at you, and then the object, and back at you.  Didn’t people use that word for those they held affection for?  Or was it a general descriptor for someone who was pleasant to look at?

He would need to do a significant amount of research on human customs.  The knowledge he did have was insufficient and vague, like he had swallowed it without understanding its contents.

The merman took the shining glass and almost dropped it.  Familiar red eyes stared back at him, sharp teeth that tore through the flesh of any creature winked in the mirror, and his hair…

Oh, that was much better.  It wouldn’t get in the way, easy to maintain…

His right ear sported a broken piece of glass on a wire.  What had that been?  Could that pop have been…?

“Well, I don’t look like a shark attacked my head,” he muttered in amusement when he handed back the mirror.  

That earring should come out.  If it was broken, there was no point in keeping it.  Maybe he could replace it with something else.  He tilted his head to get better leverage on the post, his claws making the task harder.  Ridiculous.  How did that thing get in, then?

“I’ll take that as a ‘thank you’, Mister…?”

Your patience ran out, it seemed.  He returned your expectant look with a weary expression.  Truth would be prudent.  He had no one else to turn to.  And if you did run your mouth when you returned to wherever you were from, no one was liable to believe you, were they?  

After all, that was a large backpack for a day adventurer and you had absolutely no fear helping a strange creature survive.

No, you, too, were an outcast.

“I cannot recall my name,” he said at last.  “The last thing I remember is a high-pitched ringing before waking up here.”

“Nothing?  Not even a nickname?  A notion?”

Your persistence might have been charming if he wasn’t so focused on not ripping his ear fin.  Was the stupid thing sewn into his flesh?  

You clicked your tongue and knelt down beside him.  Your softness pressed into his shoulder as you brushed away his hands and worked with the clasp and post, pulling the wire from the piercing.  When you offered it, he shook his head and you reeled your arm back and flung the broken thing into the water.  It landed with a plunk and sank where it hit.

“I do have a notion, if you must insist on information.  But you have not shared your name, only your profession, inventor .”

His eyes locked with yours and you never looked away, never so much as stepped back.  No, this lack of fear wasn’t confidence, it couldn’t be.  Perhaps you were touched in the head or just absolutely without sense from the high sun.

You tilted your head and he had to close his mouth to repress the urge to latch onto the column of your neck.

Killing you would do nothing but potentially result in people looking for him.  A dead body, even that of an outcast, brutally torn apart?  It would only reinforce whatever superstitions existed in these parts.

Your name was nothing more than a whisper across your tongue.  He wondered, briefly, if the jolts that ran through every part of him at the syllables was anything like being electrocuted.  He repeated your name as his tail fins twitched and he throbbed again beneath the water.

“Mmhmm.  Your turn.”

He paused, licking his cracked lips before attempting the name that lingered in his memory banks like a ghost.

“Nadir.”

“The opposite of zenith,” you replied.  “Where someone’s shadow would appear…the lowest point of someone’s spirit…” You frowned, almost wounded. “Sorry, I shouldn’t have said that last one.”

“I did not know its true meaning.  That is beneficial.”

You shook your head and gave a smile that was too tight to be kind.  You had embarrassed yourself and whatever glimmer of enthusiasm had existed was snuffed out with regret.  

“Its meaning is irrelevant.  You look like the evening sky out here, when the sun finally falls and fades from a light blue into the shades of night.  We are not our names given to us.  I think there might be a more suitable one for you out there.”

You returned to your pack and fiddled with something.  A rag and a bottle and small pieces of metal.  The merman inched himself towards the deeper parts of the water, not intent on leaving yet but itching to test his physical capabilities.  You stepped into the water with ease, legs protected by leather, and you reached down, experienced hands sliding a post into place through pierced flesh.

Nadir, for he had no other name to refer to himself, touched his fin and felt the small earring.  A stud, nothing fancy.  When he looked up, he noticed the gold and tanzanite gem from one of your own ears was missing.

“Whatever you call yourself, as long as you have that, I’ll know it’s you.  If we ever meet again.”

___________________

Without a past and without more than loose tendrils of memories, Nadir found himself wandering the coasts of an arid desert beneath high waterfalls.  He kept his hair short, as you had shaped for him, and he quite liked the way it retained a fluffy volume, curling in a wild fashion.  

In the depths, he found caverns and ruins, documents preserved through sheer luck and machinery that sputtered and whirred.

So much of the machinery felt familiar, although he didn’t know why.  He knew exactly where to touch, how the joints held together, and the distance to keep from those blasted sensors that targeted enemies.  Working with them was as easy as swimming and converting hydrogen dioxide into its smaller compound to oxygenate his circulatory system.

Presumably, whatever past he held and whatever memories were once in his system held the answer.  But he was not likely to obtain them again.

Language was retained.  The world’s history, such as it was, and its geography, were readily available.  He knew he was on the cusp of Sumeru and Fontaine.

But he did not know how he came to be.  Nor understand why he was so fascinated with the notion of artificial life (other than, perhaps, that he was not quite organic nor mechanic).

Above the waterfalls was a large statue that glowed bright at night.  The water there was purer, crisper, tinged with a sweetness that came with the surety of one’s actions.  Climbing it would not be impossible, even for Nadir; he did not lack the muscles to achieve it.

But it would be a waste of energy and time.

Where there were steam engines and mechanics, there were pipes to provide water to the various parts necessary.  He could only conclude that there were other means to make one’s way into Fontaine.  

The Fountain of all life.

Part of him wished to stay here, in the seams of the nations, perhaps even set up a workshop.  There was plenty to explore and play around with.  Ships came through here regularly and superstitious sailors would be easy to bargain with.

But Nadir was never one for staying idle.  The world waited for no one and there was so much more beyond his tiny scope.

And so, upon several inspections and tracking of schedules, he entered one of the pipes at the most opportune time and came out of the darkness to shining brilliance and crystalline waters.  The shallows were tricky for a creature like him, for he could not easily hide and there was too much activity around for his liking.

The other creatures were friendlier than he expected.  Otters tumbled with their shells and presented him with a rock to tuck away.  Blubberbeasts rumbled and invited him to swim with them.  The crabs were troublesome but nothing he couldn’t handle with a hard thwack of his tail and a slash of his claws.

Glowing crystals, flowing fauna, coral reefs…everything here teemed with life.  

And below Fontaine City, there was plenty to explore, it seemed.

Yes, this would do quite nicely for now.

___________________

He settled in quickly.  Food was abundant and there were so many caverns and old ruins that Nadir was not without shelter.  Some of the ruins appeared to be some kind of research facility or library, which suited him just fine.

What did not suit him were the random devices that would find their way to his usual hunting ground.  They often scared the fish away and he would return to his vast underground network with only metal cogs and curiosity, his stomach grumbling all the while.  Many of these things were almost operational as well.  It was like someone tired of the project or could not finish it through and flung it out the nearest window.

Ridiculous.  Wasteful.  Pathetic.

Nadir fixed the contraption once he understood its mechanical intentions and returned it to the shoreline.  On more than one occasion, he tied a bow on one out of seaweed, just to be, well, petty and make it harder for the owner to pick up.

The devices were always gone within twenty-four hours and in their place, he found mora.  Which he had little to no use for but at least the sailors he traded with never questioned its origin.  

One day, Nadir was unlucky enough to be caught as he was placing an unfortunate device back onto the ledge.  

“So you’re the reason I’ve yet to be fined, huh?”

His garnet gaze burned as he laid eyes on familiar hair, shining eyes.  He would know you anywhere.

Surely not.

Surely you had more sense than to throw away your projects.  To complete them yourself.  

He couldn’t determine if he should be angry or ravenous.  You, in Fontaine?  It must have been fate.  But then again, fate implied agreeing with the Heavenly Principles and partaking in the constant samara cycles of the world.  Which Nadir wanted no part of.

“And you call yourself an inventor,” he muttered, running his tongue over sharp teeth.  “Can’t even follow through on your own work.”

“Not my fault everything’s been done before.  Just when I think I’m making progress, turns out seven other people did the same thing.  Nothing’s original.”

“So have I been fixing garbage for nothing?”

“No.  I did earn a position in research and development for a private company that works with the Palais thanks to you.  And I have been fairly compensating you…although in hindsight perhaps I should have asked if mora was the best way to do that…not many places to use it for those who live in the water…”

You trailed off, face alight with embarrassment.  Your attire was dingy and looked like you’d endured an explosion.  Nadir sank into the water, keeping his eyes and ear fins just above the surface.

“How long have you been in Fontaine?” You asked, settling into the ledge.

You removed your boots and stockings and stuck your feet into the water.  Nadir couldn’t help but admire your bare skin for a moment before raising his head.

“I do not know how you track time but I have seen winter and spring already.  That is roughly…six months, if I calculated correctly.”

“You were okay when the waters froze over?”

How did he tell you that he held memories of ice far thicker and water far colder?  

“I am here, am I not?” Nadir shot back.

You gave a wry smile in return.  Silence dominated as you watched him, just as he watched you in return.  

“You kept it,” you pointed to your hair and then your ear.

“Short hair is far more practical and the earring is quite pretty.  It reminds me that some humans can be kind.  If not a bit…lacking in self preservation.”

“Oh?”

Nadir gave a wide, toothy grin and you didn’t so much as flinch.  When you didn’t react, he slid his tongue out slightly, the exact way he would when eyeing prey.

“I could have killed you in the desert.”

“But you didn’t.”

“And I could kill you now.”

“You won’t.”

Nadir barked a laugh.  “What makes you so sure?”

Your smile widened.  He watched as, for the first time that evening, a spark shimmered in your eyes.

“Because you enjoy tinkering.  If you killed me, what else would you fill your days with, Nadir?”

“You think very highly of yourself, Inventor.  There’s plenty of underwater devices, I’ll have you know.  Some of the Research Facility fell into the water, after all.  And it’s quite easy to find the parts I need from defective mechs or bargaining with divers.”

“And who else would you talk to, hmm?  Who else is brave enough—”

“Stupid enough,” Nadir interrupted.

You raised an eyebrow but continued, “—to try and bridge the gap?”

Nadir’s gaze dropped to your bare knees and feet, where your skin met the water, before he flicked his eyes back up to you.  Even now, months after you saved him, you sat with him and treated him as an equal.  Anyone else would attempt to bargain with him, keep him at arm’s length but here you were, feet in the water, treating him like…

Like you wanted him.

His chest constricted.  In the deep reaches of his mind, he tried to remember a time or a place someone wanted him and he came up short.

He reached a webbed hand, mindful of his razor-sharp claw, and danced a finger on the sole of your foot.  When you didn’t react, he swam closer, skimming his palm across the muscle of your calf.  

“And what gap might that be, hmm?” He asked as he situated himself between your open legs.  

From this angle, you were smaller than he originally thought (or perhaps it was the ledge height); he towered over you regardless.  His heart danced in time with the cadence of your laugh when his nails tickled your skin ever so slightly.

You smelled different than the last time he saw you.  Metal, soot, and the air of the thunderstorm just before the crack of lightning.  

He expected cockiness, a sharp remark.  But all Nadir found was a simmering gaze and parted lips, perfect for the taking.  Your breath mingled with his and he couldn’t help but wonder what you might taste like.  

“This one,” you whispered.

You leaned forward and Nadir gripped your legs to keep you from falling as your lips crashed onto his.  You were all softness, eager heat, and searing touches as you rested your hands flat against his bare chest.

His head swam as you pressed exploratory kisses to his mouth and jaw.  He read about this, along with many other things regarding human courting and mating.  Few researchers knew of or studied the creatures he was created to mimic.  But he knew enough to recognize that his body’s responses were normal, even if he disliked the loss of control.

Nadir gave a hiss as your dull teeth grazed the curve of his neck before you swirled your tongue across his skin.  His skin felt as if he were on fire.  A shiver ran down his spine and a throbbing ache settled in his lower belly as he hardened at your teasing.  

As long as he kept himself in the water and you stayed on the ledge, he might survive this encounter with shreds of self-control.

“You’re playing a dangerous game, human ,” he murmured.

“Am I?” 

You laughed softly into the soft flesh of his neck and he twitched beneath the water as a jolt ran straight down to his member.  Your warmth left him as you pulled away and he gripped your legs harder when you cupped his face.

“Looks like you’re liking it, though.  Flustered just like when I cut your hair.”

Well, that left him with no choice.

Nadir pulled you into the water with a splash and he dove, crashing his tail on the surface once to create additional spray.  He heard a cry as you flailed, your head bobbing above water once, twice, and then you began to…

Panic shot through him, killing everything else as he darted towards you.  In one swift motion, he scooped you under your arms and brought you back to the surface.  His heart calmed every so slightly when you gasped and coughed (although he would not have minded pressing his mouth to your again).  The ledge you were on was too high to easily reach, he realized, and he brought you to the nearest patch of shallow water.

“You could have mentioned that you couldn’t swim,” he muttered, settling you into the shoal.

“Right, yeah, because I’m going to admit that to a man with a tail and fins who lives in the water.  That’s like telling your murderer where to shoot you.”

Your voice cracked.  You sniffed and then coughed again before getting to your feet.

“Am I not allowed to tease you back?”

“ Teasing would be pulling away and splashing me,” you shot back, extending an arm out in emphasis.  “Finding something else about me to make a flirtatious response about.  Not putting me in danger.  What if I hit my head going down?  What if you didn’t have the reflexes you do?”

You wrung out your clothes and tried to make yourself presentable.  The previous flush across your cheeks was no longer soft and endearing; you instead looked like you were trying to embody the red creatures he saw in the regions near the Fortress.  Your eyes shone but not with the usual enthusiasm nor vibrancy he liked.  In fact, you didn’t look at him at all.

“For the record, most people apologize when they hurt someone else.”

He wanted to call after you as you trudged through the water, your name (your beautiful, brilliant name) on his lips.  But he didn’t want to taint it.  You didn’t deserve that.

Nadir watched, only the top half of his face to the bridge of his nose above the surface, as you made your way back into the city without sparing a glance back.

___________________

He never had a single device thrown into the nearby waters after that encounter.  

And you never came to claim the one you left behind.

It glared at him every time the morning sun glinted off the metal and he caught the stupid thing out of the corner of his eye.  A constant reminder of you , as if the pangs that shot through his arms and chest weren’t enough.

He hadn’t wanted to hurt you.  In fact, despite his words, he never would have been able to bring himself to truly sink his teeth into your flesh.  Nadir would never be able to live with himself if he watched life fade from your eyes and your body slump.

Which made him all the more frustrated with himself.  Pulling you into the water had been a gut reaction, a way to equal the playing ground when you were so intent on mocking him.  He did it with sailors who tried to cheat him out of an agreement.

How was he supposed to know you, someone who lived in the city of Hydro, couldn’t swim ?

Part of him tried to simply forget you and move on with his existence.  That’s what any normal creature would do, after all.  You weren’t like him and you certainly weren’t as clever as he was, at any rate.

But he never heard anything as beautiful as your laugh and the way you smiled at him…

He tried not to take the physical reactions into consideration, how he imagined you might feel beneath him, what coupling with you might feel like as you squeezed him, your lips parted and eyes lidded…

His seed joined the seafoam one morning before he grabbed the stupid contraption and brought it back to his workshop.

How did one apologize ?

This device was meant to be a timed lantern; the user would set the amount of time on the bottom in increments of five, ten, fifteen minutes up until a full hour.  You had not positioned the heat sensor right and it kept turning off before the actual timer recognized the appropriate measurement of time.  It was functional now and to change anything would render it useless for its intended purpose.

Nadir frowned.  He’d had a purpose once, hadn’t he?  His creation was not random; one did not just assemble pseudo-biological systems for no reason, after all.  Despite having no memories of his creator, he knew his muscles were synthetic and his biological systems were as functional and necessary as any other living creature.  Granted, he never tried not eating, but why else did he physically respond to your touch at all, if nothing was functional ?

He shoved the thought aside as he disassembled the housing on the lantern and removed the bulb, leaving only the lighting node itself, the sensors, and the glass panels through which the light shone.

The timer moved a set of cogs as it counted down and the heat sensor had a little lever to insert a piece of non-conductive material into the circuit, cutting off the flow of power.  Simple and basic wiring and cog placement.

But…

He rummaged through and found a comb and wheel, the pieces sliding home as if they were meant to be there.  Thorough testing revealed that another song might be needed, both because this one was grating to listen to and because he needed to take the extended intervals into consideration.

While he continued to work on the abandoned device, he sought pathways into the city itself.  Just like with the waterfall and the elevator’s steam engines, there was no way all of the machinery in the city operated without some kind of system to pump water through the streets.  Eventually, he came upon pipes and underground tunnels, entire networks of stairs and walkways far beneath the sunlight of the city.  

Small houses, crammed in next to one another, food stands and market stalls packed as vendors bargained and shouted.  Children ran along the waterways, pretending sticks from the surface were swords.

He never allowed more than his eyes above the surface and never for too long.  This was too close for comfort.  The last thing anyone down here needed was a rumor of a monster lurking in the water.  

It took weeks but he finally heard murmurs of your whereabouts.  A child, knelt down next to a broken mechanical animal, was told your name and that you fixed machines all the time.  That you could be found on the outskirts of the market when you weren’t working on the surface.

The sections there were shallower, if not outright inaccessible Nadir recalled.  Perhaps not quite a problem but admittedly, it made this all the harder.

Upon hearing your voice from one of the tiny cramped living spaces, he burned the image of your door into your mind until he finished the device.  He wrapped it carefully and made his way back to your location, the invention clutched tight to his chest.  Knowing at this hour that no one would spot him, Nadir lifted himself out of the shallows before the grating covered the waterway.  He pulled himself along with one arm until he reached your door, carefully placed the gift where you would see it and not break it, and gave your door a good thwack with his tail.  You grumbled a threat to supposed intruders as he made his way back to the water and he dove just as he heard your door open.

Quietly, he surfaced and watched as you picked up the wet oilskin package and opened it.  You froze almost instantly in recognition (he had not changed the shape in the slightest, despite his modifications).  Nadir’s heart hammered in his chest and his mouth became surprisingly dry when you wound up the key on the bottom.

The lantern flickered to life and images began to move between the bulb and the glass panels, casting shadows on the metal walls.  Notes from a song he only knew in composition danced in the air as you watched the shapes.  Nadir’s eyes were glued to your face.

A tail became legs.  The figure walked to another.  A kiss.  A house.  A life.

He once read a tale about a girl from Remuria, born partially in the image of an Oceanid, who fell in love with a person on the surface.  She made a bargain for her voice in exchange for the excruciating experience of legs, endearing pain with every step just to be with her true love.

It was too flowery for Nadir’s liking and seemed to reinforce the idea that people should stay where they belonged.  Nonetheless, the base sentiments were there.

You closed your eyes and clutched the lantern to your chest when the song ended.  

“I’m sorry, too,” you whispered, the words as loud to him as though he spoke them right next to him.

He did not expect you to join him the following evening.  But when he heard the notes as he was hunting for dinner, he could not help but heed the call.

You stood on the ledge, lantern in your hands.  Your face was puffy and you looked like you hadn’t slept.  A terrible look for you, if he were honest, but now was not the best time to say such a thing.

“Is this how you feel?” you asked.  “About me?”

Your words were soft and you broke your gaze away to look at the lantern you held.  He should have had a speech prepared.  Or at least a sound argument.  In actuality, he never expected you to show up again.  It had been enough to express how he felt through the shadow art and he would have been content with your apology, even if he wasn’t supposed to overhear it.

The longer the silence stretched on, the thinner your patience became.

And you were gracious enough to make the trip.

“If you are asking if I love you, the answer is truthfully that I do not know,” Nadir admitted.  “I have never had the life experience to tell me one way or the other and it is easy to mistake infatuation and lust for something more…foundational.”

He ran his tongue over the sharp points of his teeth.  

“But I do know that I never meant to harm you, that I never wanted to harm you, and I think I would be quite happy seeing your face every day of my existence.  However long that’s meant to be.”

He could see by the way your expression shifted that you had plenty of words to say.  For the first time since he met you, however, you opted for silence and instead placed the lantern down on the ground.  You removed your boots and uniform, leaving yourself only in the thin underclothes that gave the vague outline of your true form.

And then you jumped.

Your name left his lips as soon as you broke the surface and Nadir flicked his tail, propelling himself forward.

Was the idea of loving him so abhorrent that you could drown yourself to be rid of him?  Did you truly have a death wish?

Hands found his chest before arms wrapped around his neck and he surface with you clinging to him, your feet kicking.  Nadir glared down at you, a cheeky smile across your face the whole while.

“What were you thinking—” he started.

Wait, kicking?

You giggled and pushed away from him, moving your arms and legs to keep yourself afloat.

“Forced myself to learn.  I didn’t have a lot of time after my shifts for much else.  But I realized I was actually angry at myself,” you said.  “Had I known how to swim, that night would have gone differently.”

Your movements were clumsy but calculated.  Swimming wasn’t even second nature to you, or even third; he could see it in the way you expended too much energy in treading, in the clear discomfort of you submerging yourself under water.

“I’d like to try again,” you said, swimming slightly closer.  “If you’d be open to it.”

Nadir couldn’t name the feeling that seemed to stem from his fins and reach all the way into his head, making him dizzy.  

“You… want to…”

“Would I be here if I never wanted to see you again, Nadir?”

No, you didn’t seem the type, he wanted to say.  But sometimes, silence was better.  It didn’t weigh everything down.  And he very much enjoyed this warm feeling swelling inside of him seeing you in the water with him.

“I can’t think of anything I’d like more.”

___________________

It took time, as all things did. 

You moved out of the undercity and, with a little help from a few colleagues from your company’s engineering department, assembled a house over the water just northeast of Fontaine City.  The trip into the city was the same length of time as before.  Only now, there were beaches instead of stone ledges and you had plans for creating underwater parts of the house for Nadir.

The lantern often lit up your room at night when the two of you went to sleep, both of you keenly aware of the other’s absence.

You didn’t want a solution that involved changing him, you said one night, toes in the sand.  Although you might never share the same bed nor eat at the same table, you were content to have dinner in the same space as him and to sit on the beach and discuss various mechanical ideas until the early hours of the morning.

At some point, he confessed to knowing that he was not entirely organic and that he hailed from a frozen country.  Beyond that, he held little to no recollection; when you protested about closure, he pressed his lips to yours and said that you were all he needed.

Hearing your resolution on not changing him meant more to him than he could truly put into words.  Finding a way to give him legs would be more practical but there was so much of human life that he didn’t understand nor wanted to.  

So instead, he opted to hold you close, tail in the tide, and point out the available constellations.

Until your breath was too hot on his neck and he lost the ability to concentrate.  This close, your scent mingling with the fresh evening breeze, your soft warmth pressed against his side, Nadir wondered if he might combust.

Discussions of logistics happened, of course.  You were no biologist but you admired his form on more than one occasion and took to sketching him when you needed a break from schematics.  He had felt your wet folds before when you directed his hand through your panties and demanded he understand just what his affections did to you.

He did. All too well.

Nadir grew hot when your hand wandered, tracing his slit and the tip of his member.  He gasped when you coaxed him further, your lips on his neck and his cock in your hand; he turned his head and found you gazing not at the stars but at him, every bit of you burning with a deeper yearning than mere lust.  

“I mean it.  I don’t want anything different.  Just you.”

You ran your hands through his hair, tugging slightly and he swallowed hard, his mouth suddenly dry.

“I want to taste you first,” he panted.  “Properly.”

Before he could rearrange either of you, you remove the remainder of your garments and situated your legs around his neck.  Your folds were glistening with your own slick and he only caught a glimpse before his nose was pressed against your clit and your scent and taste overwhelmed him.

Nadir gripped your thighs tight, nails digging into the soft flesh as he licked and teased.  He did his best to keep his teeth covered as he dipped between your folds, feeling your velvet walls against his tongue.  He pulled away only long enough to nibble at your thighs and nuzzle between your folds, reveling in the way your desire dripped down his chin.  

Your taste made him dizzy and served to only harden him further.  Your feisty hand reached behind you and squeezed his length and he groaned, the edge already closer than he wished it was.

No, not yet.

He pulled your hips down onto him and pushed his tongue into you as far as it would go.  Judging from the jolt that rocked both of you, that was much deeper than you anticipated.  He flicked across one particular spot and you bucked again as you gave a low whine.

Now that was interesting…you enjoyed that…

Nadir repeated the motion and you clenched around his tongue with a louder cry.  He continued, unrelenting, until you shuddered, walls fluttering as your taste changed and you gushed atop him.  You were breathless, chest heaving, glowing with a desire yet to be extinguished.

He licked every drop from your lips and your thighs.   You tasted magnificent and he couldn’t let that go to waste.

Your hands reached for him again but Nadir leveraged you with ease and flipped both of you over, your back on the sand and legs wrapped around his waist.

“I need all of you,” he whispered.  “Just you.”

You felt absolutely divine against his tip and he eased into you slowly, inch by inch, your swollen walls still fluttering.  He watched your expression, eyes widening and lips parting in pants as he finally bottomed out.  You were already beautiful but like this? 

Such things were not meant for this world.  And yet you were all his .

Your hands trailed across his back and down along his hips, tracing the scales of his tail.  He moaned when, as he pulled out slightly to simply steady himself, the heel of your foot pressed against his tail and pushed him back in and you held him there, filling you entirely with his length.  He nipped at your neck in retaliation.  

“Nadir…”

Oh, when you said his name like that, dragging out the last syllable…

He pulsed inside you and you had the gall to bring your other leg up, pinning him inside you.  Nadir gritted his teeth and, claws digging into your waist, pulled you further down the shore and into the water.  He flipped both of you so you rested atop him, legs encircling his waist, and your bodies still joined at the hip.  You sputtered for a moment but were wholly undeterred

He continued to thrust into you lazily as he floated along to deeper water.  He held you tight, and pulled your body further underwater, until only your heads were above the surface.  You were weightless on top of him, shrouded in his element, and he dragged out both of your releases until you convulsed on top of him, moaning incoherently.  

Nadir buried his face in your neck, teeth sinking into your shoulder to muffle his guttural groan as he released deep inside you.  He shuddered as you peaked again, the intensity too much for him to bear so soon.

He kissed and licked your shoulder apologetically as you both came down from your high, tangled in one another.  In the distance, the water sparkled with the promise of daybreak, the sky already full of soft pinks and oranges.  Had you truly been up all night?

“Have you ever seen such a beautiful sunrise?” you whispered, nuzzling closer to him.

A vague memory tickled his mind.  A flick of fins, a touch of dawn, possessive glares.

If that was beauty by most standards, then he wanted no recollection of that.

“No.  No, I have not, my love.  But every day with you will contain such light.  I’m sure of it.”