#and now i keep falling into acid | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

saturnsorbits · 6 months ago

Text

LiSyK: Lesson One

Fandom: My Hero Academia, Warnings: Prince!Bakugo, Concubine Reader and Kirishima, Smut, Voyeurism, Unprotected Sex, Unprepared Sex, Cum Eating (Kinda). Word Count: 5k.

A/N: So, it's a series... No regular uploads, I'm just going to see where it goes.

Bakugo claps his hands, the sound echoing around the chamber like a rifle shot. 'You'll find my bed behind you.'

You blanch. 'Your bed, my lord?'

Concubines were a fixture of the royal rooms and have been for as long as anyone could remember. It wasn't unusual to see a collection of beautiful men and women lounging in living rooms or bedrooms, their skin almost entirely bare with only silk and gold to adorn them. Some, if favoured enough, were even gifted their own rooms were they could entertain their lord at their leisure.

And yet, it was unheard of to entertain a prince in his own chambers.

'Is there something wrong with my bed?' Bakugo's voice is a growl, low and deadly in the back of his throat. The idea of seeing you, the two of you, in his own bed sets up a stirring in his groin – one the demands to have its reward.

'No... No, I -.'

Kirishima's voice is an even timber when he steps in, easily picking up where your babbling had left you off. 'To share your personal bed chamber is a true honour, my lord.'

You curtsey, bowing you head low, thankful for the out.

The implications of Bakugo's excitement swarm in his head, but the buzzing never comes close to dampening his desire. Nodding towards the bed, he clenches his jaw tight. He'll deal with whatever fall out that comes later, right now... Both his heart and cock are set on this. 'Continue.'

Perching on the edge of the bed, you scoot backwards until your back presses against the plush cushions piled at the headboard. You can feel your pulse migrate, its steady rhythm sinking lower and lower until you're forced to resist the urge to cover your sex.

At the foot of the bed stands Kirishima. He smiles, soft and without his teeth, the apples of his cheeks swelling as he tries to render you at ease. The bump of his throat bobs as he leans forward, hands braced on the mattress as he prepares the advance on you, but before he can move, Bakugo's voice is ringing out clear from across the room.

Even across the room, Bakugo's throne feels far too close for comfort. He perches there, one knee raised with all the posture of a boy king. Atop his head the gold circlet of his crown sits off centre, the mess of his hair forcing it to tip towards his forehead. Beneath, his ruby eyes shine – deadly in their stare as he grips the edges of his chair with an almost white-knuckled force.

'Strip.' It's a command. One he's glad doesn't slip from his tongue with the anxiety that bubbles in his stomach. The acid is thick there, anticipation turning to bile as he fidgets, hoping neither of you can see his cock already raising to half mast under his trousers. 'Bare yourself to us.'

You swallow, tasting trepidation at the back of your tongue as you sit up and work at the straps of your covering. You'd been gifted new clothing after being chosen by the prince, upgrading your simple cloth rags for finer silks and golden bands. Now, a thin silken top cascades over your chest, the folds of the material deep and red, like waves of fresh fire licking at your skin. At your neck, a chain keeps the material from falling as it hangs from your golden collar.

The collar bares a series of symbols. Those for both the house of Bakugo, granting you movement throughout the entire fortress and those for the prince himself: a mark of his ownership. The chain wraps your back too, meeting in a clasp that you quickly undo, allowing the material to sink and expose the edges of your breasts as you work at loosing the chain to let the entire article slip away.

Kirishima's eyes linger. He can't help it. The fabric covering you slips to the mattress and immediately leaves you bare. Soft tits fill his vision, the gentle rise and fall of your chest making them jiggle slightly as you try and calm your breathing. His palms are sweating, making him thankful for the bedsheets under his hands and his voice demands he speak words of praise and devotion, even despite his not having permission to utter a word.

For the prince to be able to touch you seems obvious, for you're nothing short of a royal gift, but for him... He's not quite sure how he managed to get so lucky to be allowed to lay his eyes on a treasure such as you.

'Show him everything.' Bakugo clicks his tongue. His fist is balled in his pants, pulling them from his crotch to save their staining. Shifting in his seat, he attempts to hide his arousal. Not for the first time, he's glad he placed himself away from your gazes.

'Yes, my lord.' Your breathing catches as you unbuckle the silk skirt at your hips. You'd been denied underthings. Such items are inconvenient for the prince, should his cock wish to be buried in your tight heat at short notice. Instead, leather straps sit at your hips with long silken strips of material stitched to their edges. Falling to mid calf, the material flows effortlessly with your movement just as it drifts easily to the floor now as you unbuckle it.

'Knees apart.'

You comply, sensing the tightness in the princes voice and drop your knees, exposing the softness of your inner thighs and the sweetness of your sex to the air.

You're dripping. Even from this distance Kirishima can tell. There's a sheen coating your skin, a slick mix of arousal that gives off a heady scent. It infests his lungs, soaks into the roof of his mouth as he drags more of your aroma into him with each breath. His fingers twitch on the mattress gathering more sheet between them as he tries to stop himself from moving too soon and gaining the punishment of the prince.

Bakugo leans so far off his throne he's not confident he won't fall. He's never smelt sex before, but if it smells anything like you do, he's not sure he'll ever be able to be without it. Your musk is an aphrodisiac, making his mouth water and his cock twitch as he gives up attempting to hide his erection. Reaching for his belt, he loosens the buckle and reaches into his pants squeezing around the base of his cock as he pulls it into the air.

The princes cock is average in length. Delicate, almost, in how it bends slightly to the left – the rose petal head rounded and plump, dribbling more than it's fair share of pre-cum down the man's fist. Along the pale shaft, a series of purpling vein's break up the tone. Most are wide, pulsing with his heartbeat and splaying as they reach his base, where a delicate crop of blonde hair obscures the rest. It's darker than the hair on his head, closer to the brown of his fathers as it trails, reaching up over the muscle of his stomach and beyond.

Kirishima gulps, quickly snapping his gaze from over his shoulder and back to you. He can't say for certain, but he's pretty sure he has a bigger cock than the prince.

It should be an ego boost, something to brag about in those few moments of peace he's awarded outside of his royal duty, except there's just one thing he's worried about.

You.

'Stretch yourself...' Clenching his teeth, Bakugo refuses to show his breathlessness. His cock kicks in his hand, demanding a friction he withholds; but even with his precaution, there's no removing his affliction entirely from his visage. He straightens, rolling his shoulders to flatten against the back of his throne. Still, greed and longing sink into his tone. 'Let me see.'

Reaching between your thighs, you do as your told. The stickiness of your cunt clings to your fingers immediately, your clit twitching as clumsy fingers spread into a 'V' to expose your insides.

'Fuck.' The word trips from Kirishima's tongue carelessly and drops into the air like the last firework at new year. Around him, the world freezes – the muscles of his shoulders tense as he watches your abdomen hitch. He hadn't been given permission to speak. For all he knows, your allure has truly become the end of him. After all, it isn't unknown for rulers to punish their concubines for far less than speaking out of turn.

Bakugo clicks his tongue against the roof of his mouth and savours the knot that appears in the centre of Kirishima's back. The muscles bunch, writhing in a manner that makes him wonders if he could recreate it. 'Yeah...' He sighs. 'Fuck.' Coughing the delicacy from his voice, he licks over his lips before addressing the scene again. 'You. Kirishima. Strip.'

Kirishima complies in a heartbeat.

His loin cloth is much like yours in design, a thick strip of leather wrapping his waist just below his navel that buckles at either hip. Attached is the same material, thin and translucent and falling to mid-thigh; sheer enough to almost see the heft of his cock as it lays against his thighs.

Thick fingers work at the buckles, nimbly loosening the leather until he can swiftly shuck the material down his legs and discard it with a flick of his foot.

From his throne, Bakugo has to bite back the groan that threatens to rock through his chest and spill into the air. His mouth waters. Kirishima's cock is larger than he'd expected... A lot larger than he'd expected.

It bends under it's own weight, almost hanging despite his being fully hard. His foreskin is dark, a flush of deep mauve that slips back just enough to expose a slither of dark cherry head. Pre-cum leaks from him like a tap. It glistens on his skin, making the two thick vein's that raise from his skin just below his head glow in vague purple as they pulse. The crop of hair at his base is thick and black, a stark contrast to his own pale, downy hair.

Bakugo swallows, ridding his throat of the desire to be full. His tongue flattens to the roof of his mouth, his taste buds desperate for a lick of whatever divine nector drips from the pair of you. 'Go on then...' He barks, excitement flooding his bloodstream as he attempts to maintain some kind of dignity with his hand still squeezing the base of his cock. 'Fuck her.'

'I... Uhm,' Kirishima's cock bobs, threatening to steal his cohesion. He struggles to remember his teachings, a million and one things racing through his mind as he tries to remember the diagrams and words of the old mothers. 'I need to, to... Prepare her first.'

'Of course.' Bakugo frowns. He knew that. Of course, he knew that – he's eager, that's all. Maybe a little too eager.

'Can... Can I?' Kirishima's eyes shine when he brings them up to meet you. There's a gentleness there, a softness that barely disguises the blind pleasure that coils his stomach into knots. He reaches forward, a hand brushing the skin of your shin as his thumb draws an awkward half-circle in your calve.

You nod. With your fingers still spreading your cunt, you can feel the rush of slick that gathers there as you wait under his gaze for your devouring. It coats your fingers, leaving strings of pearl on your skin like jewellery.

Kirishima climbs up onto the bed, forcing it to dip under his weight. You feel bare laying there, exposed, as you watch his eyes dip between your legs and grows hungry. Fighting the urge to snap shut your legs and scramble away, you force yourself to relax. No-one has seen you quite like this before. Your intimacies have always been your own, exposed only to the King's consort Inko to confirm your virginity before a bright 'V' had been painted on your chest.

You wonder if you're pretty down there. If you look appealing... Fuckable.

A large hand wraps your thigh, a reassuring squeeze drawing you from your thoughts and back into the moment. Kirishima smiles, the tips of his teeth worrying his bottom lip as he reaches out with his other arm and hovers centimetres away from your sex. He catches your eye, eyebrows raising slightly on his forehead as the corner of his mouth twitches upwards. 'You'll tell me if you want me to stop, won't you?'

There's a trepidation lingering under his skin, the kind of anxiety that is laced with excitement and easily highlights his inexperience and yet, his movements are sure when he finally touches you.

The pad of his thumb swipes at your clit making your back arch. Your eyes widen as the breath is taken from your lungs, a soft gasp leaping from your mouth. You become aware of your body then, more aware than you've ever been as the tingles of pleasure begin to recede with his touch. It leaves you raw and desperate, hips lifting from the bed in order to seek him out once more.

'Louder.' Bakugo's voice is broken. His cock still sit in his hand, pulsing angrily at it's neglect. Already he can feel his balls pulling up tight against him, threatening an end to something he hasn't even been able to start yet. 'Make her louder.'

Kirishima repeats the action. This time, the pad of his thumb presses harder, circling, until he earns another gasp from your lungs. He's surprised to learn that you're soft. Softer than he'd expected. You're so wet he can feel it clinging to his skin, the heat radiating through his thumb and making his mouth water. Against the mattress his cock stirs, smearing pre-cum against his stomach as he grinds down, offering himself only the smallest amounts of relief. He licks his teeth. 'Can...' His thumb moves lower, slipping off the wet hood of your clit and hovering over your entrance. 'Can I?'

'Please.' Lifting your hips from the bed, you attempt to rub his thumb back over your clit, desperate for more of his touch. You don't know what he's offering, you're not sure you care as long as it means you get to feel his hands on you again. 'Please...'

With your permission, Kirishima presses into you until you squeeze around the base of his thumb. You're hot inside, your walls silken and soaking, tightening around him as he pulls back out, testing your reactions. His eyes flicker to yours, a quick check in before he twists his wrist and offers you two fingers. This time you struggle with the stretch. He can feel it, the flutter in your walls as you breathe through the intrusion, but soon enough, you're relaxing, sucking him in and whining soft and breathy above him.

Your voice doesn't feel like your own. Each noise that escapes you is new, sinfully sweet as it escapes your throat and floats through the air. The women at the temple may have trained you, but they had never prepared you for this. Their lessons had always been focused on pleasing, not being pleased – the pillow dances and allure routines, all of it was useless here with you on your back and a man's thick fingers pressing up into the spongy roof of your cunt.

You writhe as a pressure builds below your pubic bone, encouraging a series of moans to leak from your mouth. It feels as though you might burst as your cunt clenches, but before you can discover just what comes next Bakugo's voice is spilling into the room and Kirishima's fingers still inside of you.

Bakugo is hanging on by a thread. His cock has gone pale with his grip around the base, his balls pulled so tight he can feel his pulse beating through them. Still, he refuses to embarrass himself. Not without seeing what he came to see. 'That's enough...' He speaks through his teeth, gritting out his words. 'Fuck her already.'

Kirishima looks to you before he moves. His brow is set, his eyes cool as he waits for your permission once again. He crawls over you until his arms bracket your shoulders, your chests almost level.

You look stunning like this, your lips shining, eyes wide and watery as you heave in deep, steadying breaths. There's no denying that he wants you, the sheer fact he's been allowed to touch you alone has his cock jumping against his stomach, but his mother's taught him to be respectful before anything else and so, he waits...

'I said...' Bakugo growls, but before he can finish his sentence, you're shifting.

Looking between you body and Kirishima's, you stifle a squeak as you see just what you have to contend with. Lined up as he is, it seems as though he'd reach your navel with ease – a far from appetising idea and yet, there's a yearning that spreads from the curve of your stomach to the depths of your cunt. One that has your insides tingling.

You don't care how big he is.

Don't care if it'll hurt.

As a matter of fact... A small piece of you wishes it will.

You reach between your legs, petting over your pubic hair until you can smooth your fingers across the twitching peak of your clit. A breathy whine slips from between your lips, but you continue, denying yourself in the quest for something more. Slipping further, you take two of your own fingers and arc your spine, feeling the beating of your cunt squeezing around you softly. With the other hand, you lean forward, taking Kirishima's cock in your palm and giving it a slow, gentle tug.

The man shudders at your touch. His whole body quakes at the faintest gripping of your fingertips, thick muscles rippling like he might collapse. Locking his elbows, he narrowly avoids falling on top of you as you ease him down and press his tip to your clit. He's panting openly now, his chest heaving as he struggles against the sin of your hands. If he's like this now, he dares not to think of what the tight heat of your cunt will do to him.

Tapping him against you once, twice – you enjoy each jolt of pleasure as it zips down your legs. It leaves you tingling and wanting more as you finally, finally line him up with your entrance. His cock catches against you, but before you can bask in the power you hold over him, Kirishima slips his hand between your bodies and collects your wrists in one, large palm.

He doesn't speak when he pins your hands above your head, he doesn't think he can. Instead, he holds your eye and hopes you can see what you're doing to him. Shifting his hips, he rocks into you and almost sees the Gods when the head of his cock sinks into you. You feel divine, hot and wet and tight and begging for his release. He breathes, unsure just how long he'll last. For a moment he waits, giving you just the tip and nothing more, waiting for the both of you to adjust.

The stretch he gives you is impossible. Even with so little of him inside of you, you feel full, incapable of taking the more you know he's going to give you. There's a burn radiating through your pelvis, a persistent, but delectable pain that subsides only as you breathe through it. You moan, a pretty noise escaping your throat as you feel him rut just a little deeper, taking the air from your lungs. Fisting your hands in whatever bedsheets you can find, your ribcage lifts from the bed, tits pressing flush with Kirishima's chest.

Bakugo thinks he might explode. He can see the rim of your cunt, Kirishima's cock stuffing it full and barley a quarter in. It's exhilarating as he watches both of you shiver, trying to hold it together as much as possible. Loosening his grip on his cock, he chances a slow, but firm pull upwards and quickly regrets it.

You moan, eyes rolling as flick up your hips as harshly as you can. The movement sheaths him further inside of you, dragging a harsh grunt out of his lungs as he falters. His cock presses up into you, bringing tears to your eyes as he slides back out almost immediately, but his fullness isn't a sensation you're willing to give up. Desperation claws at you, begs you for more, for a release you're dying to experience. 'Please, please, please...'

You're incensed, but then again, so is Kirishima.

Maybe that's why he gives you what you want, despite knowing you probably can't take it. Dipping his head to your neck, he rolls his hips to fill you completely and hopes he he can hold out long enough to please both you and the prince.

Your body struggles, cunt pulsing with that familiar sweet throb as he stills his movements once more and waits. You feel light headed, your body pulled taught as you hiccup through your next few breaths.

Teeth graze the junction of your shoulder, a whispered 'Is it too much?' tickling your ear before you feel the slow sensation of him pulling out. You move instantly. Wrapping your legs around him, you stop his retreat and squeeze tight, anxious to keep him inside, to be stretched and full.

The moan he lets out is pure sin. It's deep, guttural, lingering in his throat as he rocks his hips back into you and basks in the heaven that your cunt provides. With your ankles locked at the base of his spine, he's forced to bottom out – his thicket of pubic hair brushing against your clit making you twitch and writhe against him.

A strangled whine leaves Bakugo's throat as he comes to terms with his nearing end. He fucks his fist, hips lifting from the cushioned throne seat as he quickens his pace, eyes glued to were your two bodies meet on the bed. It takes barely a handful of strokes, especially when Kirishima's hips begin to move earning a cacophony of moans from both of your throats.

You can't help it. Neither of you can.

Both of your eyes drift to the back of the room, stealing quick glances at the prince. He looks ethereal, lost to his own throws of pleasure with his eyes squeezed shut and his head tipped back. A trickle of moans sneak from his lips despite his breath catching behind his Adam's apple, making goose flesh prickle on both of your arms. It feels wrong, to watch him like this – to see him so vulnerable, throat exposed, cock in his hand and cumming in his own fist, but you swear you've never seen a more beautiful sight.

He cums in waves. His body shaking as he coats his fist, his hand still smoothing the rest of his orgasm from his body. Eventually, his breathing levels out, the faint tingle from his release making him loose and light-headed. His skin prickles. The odd tug of being watched itching at the back of his neck, but when he finally blinks open his eyes there's no-one watching him.

Kirishima groans. He could feel you, your cunt pulsing around him as you watched the prince come undone. It spurs something inside of him, calls on him to please you in the way your body so desperately wanted to be pleased. Spreading his legs a little wider, he forces your hips open allowing him to reach even deeper inside of you and begins to rock his hips.

Something spoilt bubbles in your stomach. Watching the prince has made you hungry, but before you can get carried away feeling jealous of his release Kirishima begins to fuck you. Each of his thrusts gets deeper, his pace quickening until it becomes hard to concentrate. His cock fills you perfectly, making your whole body raw in a way you've never felt before.

It isn't long before Kirishima feels the tell tale pit in his stomach begin to swell. His balls pull up tight, the muscle in his abdomen twitching as he holds onto his composure with his finger tips. Still, he knows exactly what he has to do. Angling his hips down, he ensures his pubic bone brushes yours with each stroke, the thick mess of hair at his stomach tickling over your clit with each stroke.

You moan with each of his thrusts. There's no pain now, no sharp stabbing as his cock presses up inside of you. Instead, there's the dullness of a rising pleasure, one that threatens to tip you over the edge at any moment as you hold on for dear life. With your wrists still bound in his, it's impossible to pull him as closely as you want him, but Kirishima seems to read your mind.

Without pausing his rhythm, Kirishima presses his forehead to yours. Your eyes lock, the wildness in your iris' laid bare for him as his brow scrunches in concentration. He learns more about you in those following few seconds than he has for the week you'd been sequestered together before the selection. It's as if he's attuned to every inch of you, every hitch of your breath, each twitch of your lip and pulse of your cunt.

That's why he sees it coming.

He watches as your eyelids flutter, eyes rolling back towards the ceiling of the bed chamber. Your chest heaves, breath lodged there as a wave of pleasure strong enough to steal your breath rolls through you. Your mouth drops open, lips spit slicked and shining.

And then, then he feels your cunt pulse.

You milk him endlessly. Tightening around him in a vice he's not sure he'll ever want to escape, your pleasure is the most delectable thing he's ever experienced. A groan leaves his throat raw, his biceps shaking as he keep fucking your through your high, prolonging it for as long as possible. There had always been talk of what it was like to make a woman cum, the teachings endless, but none of it had come close to the real thing.

'Not...' Bakugo is breathless. His crown is still lob-sided, his smile lazy and satisfied as he kicks a leg back over the arm of his throne. 'Not inside. Don't come inside of her. That's an order.'

'Yes... Yes, my lord.' With his composure waning, Kirishima waits barely a beat, just until your cunt relaxes, the ghost of a smile tugging at the side of your lip. And then, he pulls out.

You whine, lurching forward as your wrists are released, but you don't get very far before thick strings of pearl are being lashed over your tits. The liquid is warm and coats your skin generously, painting you in his release. Above you, Kirishima fists his cock. His abdomen is tight, his nose scrunched, eyes heavy and half-lidded as he fights to keep looking at you.

And then, just like that, it's over.

The prince allows you a moment of reprieve, a minute or two to bask in the enormity of what has just occurred. The deflowering of a concubine was often a ritualised event and yet, here you were, with the spend of another concubine on your chest having just been taken for the first time. Kirishima's palm curls around your shoulder, steadying you as your world spins. His comfort is welcomed, something you offer him back with a hand on his thigh.

Bakugo clears his throat. 'Go...'

Your head snaps towards him, eyebrows scrunched. There's a shake in your knees still, one you're not sure will support you if the prince chooses to toss you out of his chambers so soon.

Licking his lips, there's a new softness in Bakugo's tone when he speaks again, shifting in his seat as he does. 'Go clean yourselves up. There's a bath through those doors, the servants should have it warm by now. You're welcome to it and whatever you wish to use in there. Sooth your muscles and return to your own quarters. I'll call for you again tomorrow.'

Kirishima glances at you and shrugs. There will be time to talk about the princes strangeness later, for now, you're not about to turn down a chance for a dip in the royal baths. Scrambling to your feet, Kirishima supports you into a messy curtsey before the prince before you slip out of the room and descend upon a world of luxury.

The door to the baths slams shut behind you, leaving Bakugo alone once again. He shouldn't have let you in there either, people will certainly talk if you're discovered, but the servants are obedient folk and his harsh nature keeps away the other prying eyes efficiently enough.

Springing from his seat, he crosses the room in barely two strides before he's at the bed. He crawls across it, feeling the warmth of your bodies still radiating through the sheets as he goes, imagining what it will feel like to be caught between the scene he witnessed only moments earlier. There's evidence of the act. Dips where you'd been lying, the sheets rumpled and tossed, but the thing that catches his eye is the darkened wet patch clear on the bed.

He doesn't think, he just moves. His chest meets the bed, his tunic falling open to allow rosy nipples to rub against the sheets as his tongue slips from behind his teeth and drags across the wetness. The taste of you bursts across his tongue. A deadly mix of both you and Kirishima ensnares him, causing him to go back for more. He laps at the sheet until his saliva mixes with your essence overpowering your tastes, leaving him wanting.

Collapsing on the bed, Bakugo stares up at the ceiling and listens to the hushed tones and splashes of you in the next room.

Tomorrow. He thinks.

Tomorrow, he'll have you...

Or, at least some of you.

<- Previous Chapter Next Chapter ->

-> Series Masterlist -> Full Masterlist

#bakugo x reader smut #kirishima x reader smut #kiribaku x reader smut #mha smut #bakugo x reader #kirishima x reader #kiribaku x reader #saturnsorbits #saturnscribbles #LiSyK: Lesson One

2K notes · View notes

peachesofteal · 5 months ago

Text

Through Me (The Flood) - secret baby fic Simon Riley / female reader requested by multiple: doctor visit

The pediatrician's office is very bright.

Bright walls, bright furniture, bright toys. The hallway is painted a bright blue, dotted with wispy, spongey clouds, spiraling in patterns from floor to ceiling.

The exam room is not much better. It's yellow. Supposed to be soothing, you tell him. It's anything but.

The bright colors unsettle him, but he shoves it down. Swallows the gnawing anxiety brewing in the back of his mind, forces away the spiral attempting to swallow him whole. He falls back on what gives him comfort, what allows him to sleep at night, what makes him feel whole. The only one who doesn't make him feel torn to shreds. The one who can touch his bare skin without making him shake. You.

You're nervous too. It started when you got the baby undressed, and has only gone downhill from there. He can see it in the way you pace back and forth in the room, holding Ry to your chest, bouncing him, rubbing his back. There's dread scrawled into your expression, grim unease radiating from your bones.

"C'mere mama." He reaches, pulling your forearm and tugging you close, resting his chin on top of your head. You relax, but barely. "Everything's going to be alright."

"He hates shots."

"He's a baby, course he does. Can't blame 'im. Huh bub?" He strokes Orion's chubby and round cheek, tilting his head to press a kiss to your temple.

Someone knocks on the door, and it creaks open.

"Hi!" A young woman in a white coat smiles at them, giving Simon an odd look before stepping forward. He swallows the acid burning the back of his throat.

"Hey, Dr. Marsh." You greet weakly, face pinched. She says hello, and washes her hands, keeping a stream of chatter until she's seated on a rolling stool with an iPad in her hand.

"How's our big man?"

"Still big." You quip drily, and she laughs, glancing up at Simon. You look at him too, and then your mouth drops into a little o. "Sorry, this is Simon. Orion's dad." She stands, extends her hand. He takes it, careful to not squeeze too tight before letting go and hanging his own rigidly by his side, tense, like he's priming for a fight of some kind.

"I guess we know where he gets his size from." Fingers tap across the screen, and then she sets it on the examination table. "So, how is it going?"

"Fine, good, I think. He's still feeding every three hours. I feel like he's gained ten pounds since our last visit." She nods. "I've been trying to pump as much as I can but... there's just... not as much."

"That can happen. If you're still happy with breastfeeding, I don't have any concerns. Of course, if you want to stop, that's more than okay. As long as he's getting what he needs, there's no wrong way to feed him." You nod, rubbing his back. Dr. Marsh asks about any other concerns, and after you say you have none, she reaches for him. "Let's see if our guy is still a ninety nine percenter, huh?" Simon frowns.

"Ninety nine percenter?"

"He's uh, in the ninety nine percentile. Very big."

"Very big, and very tall." Dr. Marsh says from over her shoulder, where she's now got Orion on the baby scale. "Born at what mum, four and a half kilograms?" Simon blanches. Bloody hell. You haven't really told him too much about the birth, and he hasn't pushed you on it. Maybe this is why. You don't have a c-section scar, and he winces thinking about you giving birth, naturally. He should have been there. Should have held your hand, told you how amazing you were. How strong. The familiar feeling of regret resurfaces, and he gives you an apologetic look. You shrug with a little smile.

"He looked like a giant in the nursery, next to all the... regular sized babies." Dr. Marsh laughs, but Simon grimaces. Guilt settles in his stomach like a rock.

"Sorry, mama." He apologizes sheepishly, squeezing your hand, and you rub your thumb over his knuckles.

"It's okay, I kinda," your eyes sweep over him from head to toe, "expected it."

"Alright, so," Dr. Marsh brings Ry back over, handing him to you, but Simon intervenes, pulling him into his arms. He worries about your back. She smiles again, types something into the tablet, and then clears her throat, "growth is slowing down."

"Is that bad?" You sound alarmed, and she shakes her head.

"Not bad, considering he's been outperforming in height and weight since he was born. This happens, it's normal, there's nothing to worry about. However, he's still in the nineties. Just shy of eight kilograms."

"What's normal?" He's curious now, wondering how big his son is really, compared to others. He'd even feel proud, if he wasn't worried about the trauma having him may have caused you.

"Fiftieth percentile is around six. Now," she rests her hands on her thighs, and levels a serious look at you. "How are you? Sleep getting any better? Are you keeping up on hydration?" Simon peeks down at you, lips tugged into a firm line.

"He still feeds every three hours, and I'm the source so... not really."

"Any more dizzy spells?" What? His head snaps your direction. Orion gurgles, and he pats his back absentmindedly. Dizzy spells? Why haven't you said anything?

"Uh, not really. Maybe a few."

"Breastfeeding can take a lot out of you. It uses a lot of metabolic energy, so try to make sure you're eating enough and drinking a lot of water. It's normal to feel exhausted or fatigued, but taking care of your nutritional needs will go a long way. I know I sound like a broken record but, I think it will help. You might also try talking to your OB, since you know... I'm only a little human doctor." You swallow.

"Okay." She gives you a serious look, and you nod.

"Alright then, let's move on to everyone's favorite part."

He holds Orion for the entirety of the rest of the visit. He squirms and screams as he gets his shots, crying at the top of his lungs, and Simon closes his eyes at one point to take a deep breath. He's okay. He's safe. They're both safe. They're here.

You take him afterward, lips to the top of his head, eyes closed as you whisper. "Shhh, I know baby, I know. It's over now. All done. You were so brave." Simon's heart aches. It hurts to know you're struggling, that you see yourself as a failure, when it's so blatant that you're anything but. He's going to fix that.

You stop at the reception desk, lingering until the girl behind it gets off the phone. "Um, can we update Orion's emergency contact list? I want his dad to be on there, too." Simon looks down at you, momentarily dumbstruck. Sweet, sweet girl. Sweet little kitten. The receptionist smiles brightly, taking the information he provides, phone number, back up phone number (work cell) and his name.

The two of you head towards the elevator, and you give him a hesitant look as you step inside. "You don't mind right? I didn't want to overstep but... you're his parent too, I thought you might want to be-" You don't get to finish before he's swooping down with a hand at the small of your back and another on the baby's head, slamming his lips to yours so fiercely your breath hitches.

"Mama," he kisses your forehead, and then cups your chin. "You and Orion are my family now. You're it for me, and I'm chuffed you'd think to put me down as an emergency contact." You jerk back at his words, eyes wide. Too much? Too soon? Too strong? He doesn't care. He needs to start easing you into it, getting you used to the new reality, before he's moving you and the baby out of your flat and giving you a new last name.

"Simon." You whisper, but he shakes his head.

"I told you. I wanted you the night we made him, and I still do. You're everything. You're mine. You and our boy." You don't say anything, and the silence kills him until you reach for his hand, interlacing your fingers with his. "An' we're going to have a talk about you getting dizzy and not saying anything to me. Alright?" You gulp.

"Alright."

#grits teeth #these are getting longer #through me (the flood)#peaches writes #simon riley #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost x reader #unedited so mind the mistakes

2K notes · View notes

iceunhie · 7 months ago

Text

HEART TO HEART — aventurine

premise ⁠☆ the five times aventurine bares his heart out to you, and the one time it works in his favor (or, in which aventurine says he loves you, in his own little ways.)

a/n ⁠☆ lovesick aventurine, i repeat super lovesick aventurine this is not half-assed, reader is the same reader from make a bet !!

The first time Aventurine opened up to you, he thinks that you looked like what starlight could be in human form.

He speaks your name like a victory falling upon his lips, a measured weight in its cadence. Aventurine relishes in the way you look alert, placing your attention on him (and him alone), sticking to his side like the faithful subordinate that you are.

He's come to learn that you don't exactly do friends—you are the very image of professionalism, never crossing the lines you shouldn't cross; and if he’s not careful, you could disappear at the slightest touch, just like starlight. (Would it kill you to stay just for him?)

“Have I ever told you that you look prettier when you smile?”

You pause from your game, looking up from the chessboard you and your co-worker, boss, and give him a look that one can truly only enjoy if they were either a masochist or someone who enjoyed another's disgust of them. “About 25 times now, Aventurine.”

“You've been counting? I didn't know you loved my praise that much.”

“Does every word that comes out of your lips lack sense, or is it just me?”

“Haha, it's just you.”

“Lucky me.” you roll your eyes. Aventurine's eyes melt, like butter in the sun.

Sometimes he feels the urge to always compliment you—because this is the only way for you to keep your eyes on him, to only look at him, and Aventurine has always loved looking at your eyes.

(If he kept looking, would he convey his heart to you?)

You scrunch up your face. Cute. “What?”

“Nothing.” Fondness bleeds from within him, the Kakavasha of old seeping into the cracks of his hollow shell. Aventurine plays gambles, risks death, yet this feeling of elation is something that triumphed in all of that.

He wonders if you notice; if you know that his honeyed words are genuine, as genuine as a liar like him can be. Aventurine wonders if you can tell that every poke and prod hides the underlying meaning of desperation—the words he can never bring himself to say because he thinks he's far too unworthy (for you). Still…

“I hope you know that it's true.” Just this once, he’ll let you see, just this once. “I mean it. You look prettier when you smile.”

Just this once, Aventurine thinks. He’ll bare his heart to you just this once. It's a gamble, a risk; a gamble he wants to risk.

And indeed, perhaps this is what Gaiathra’s blessing is for.

He sees you bristle like a cat, so wary—but he sees the flush coating your cheeks, reaching well up to the tips of your ears, and he knows he's won. Checkmate. “That's such a lame compliment. Is that best you executives can do?”

“Mm, wouldn't you like to know?” (To love is such an unpredictable thing.)

Aventurine may be a liar, but Kakavasha isn't, because Kakavasha strung together his remains in hopes of perceiving you.

In hopes of loving you.

—

Aventurine has only three words to describe himself: loser, liar, and murderer.

He can think of other words too, like Sigonian, IPC lapdog, coward, unworthy… a plethora of ugly, demeaning, visceral words— it makes his throat bubble with acid, coiling ang churning under the weight of his own existence. Disgusting.

There's another, too. Greedy. He's greedy. Whether as Kakavasha or Aventurine, the hunger to consume all lingers fresh in his mind. The strong takes all, and the weak is left to suffer. It's a need that knows no end, embittering all he cherished, cherishes. Like an iron chain upon his neck. He's greedy for solace, freedom; death, and—

“Aventurine, are you okay?” you.

How truly fortunate he is to behold your expression, when your concern is as slim as the chances of a collision of planets; when the expressive range of your emotions towards him range from either exasperation or irritation.

His smile feels rotten today, unbearably sweet. The smile of a thief. A liar. A Sigonian. “Are you worried about me?”

“You…” the traces of care don't slip from your expression despite the annoyance that betrays your tone. “Be serious here—you haven't been sleeping, have you? What is it? Is Sir Diamond assigning you yet another impossible mission?”

“No. Nothing of the sort, my friend.” His voice is flat. He doesn't know what's more agonizing. Knowing you care (and always have cared) for him, or knowing that he's making you go through all this trouble just to care for him.

He smiles, but it doesn't quite reach his eyes. “It's just a minor upset, don't worry.”

(How could you even care about someone like him? Is this love? Care? How could you look at him like he's worthy of being perceived? He is a liar, a cheat, a coward.)

He doesn't want to be indebted to you. Rather, he doesn't want you to see him; vulnerable, weak. Allowing you to freely enter his study as he's buried under piles of duty bound work just to come across one of the rare times where he's just Kakavasha—alone, weak, and fickle.

(Because as Kakavasha, Aventurine cannot hide his yearning for you, for deceit is unworthy of you; just like he is for you.)

Worst of all, Aventurine feels that if you see him, you’ll find out just how ugly he truly is. You'd slip away from him, like starlight. Out of reach; never to be seen again.

(Humans cannot survive without the light. Aventurine is starting to understand why.)

“Then I'll get you something to eat at least, so you can-”

“No, wait.” He speaks your name like a plea, and you stay. Relief floods through his senses.

Aventurine thinks that perhaps because of the vulnerability he's exposed, you've even become softer. Because why else would you look like that, looking at him like he's worth something? “What is it, Aventurine?”

“Can you stay by my side?” There's a crack in his voice that he wishes to hide, but you don't mind anyway. “Just this once.” Please.

A part of him hurts, having to beg. It reminds him all too much of days when the commodity code on his neck defined the crux of his existence; it is all he will be, will continue to be, all he is allowed to be. But Aventurine is no longer Kakavasha; hiding away from the world.

“...Okay.” Aventurine’s heart throbs when he sees your concerned expression. You know better than to ask questions, something he deems both a boon and a bane. “I'll stay. As- As much as you want.”

Why is he just like a fool whenever he's with you?

They say that to covet what must not be coveted is one’s downfall, and Aventurine is no different. His eyes trail over your form, every inch of the stardust that make you. “Thank you. Really.”

Aventurine has only three words to describe him: liar, loser, and murderer. There may be others, but this defines the very tapestry of his lamentable existence, from the moment he was brought forth upon the world; that of which no longer exists, dissolving like the sand of Sigonia’s deserts.

“Don't thank me, Aventurine. Just—get some rest. I'll be there when you wake up.”

“Nn. You're too kind. Should I double that paycheck of yours next month?”

He can hear you scoff, that bit of mirth you let slip reinvigorating him, sustaining him. “....Sweet dreams, Aventurine.”

And if Aventurine strains his mind enough, deludes himself enough; he can hear you say in a voice that's tender, warm; like the warm embrace of his sister, honeyed Avgin spilling from her lips. Brimming with love. Brimming with care.

‘May the Mother Goddess thrice close her eyes for you,’

Aventurine is a Sigonian lapdog, an unfettered gambler. He needs no tears, for there will be none to shed in his victory. He has never lost, and sees no need to shed tears for something that he will never experience. (His hand still shakes, betting on his life.)

‘keeping your blood eternally pulsing.’

He feels your fingers brush against the strands of his hair, taking off his glasses. Aventurine stills. Kakavasha falls, full of love, loving you.

‘…may your journey be forever peaceful,’

He watches you, staying by his side; and Aventurine can't help but add another name to define him.

‘and your schemes forever concealed.’

A fool. (a lover.)

Two system hours later, Aventurine wakes to the scent of lavender scented candles and a blanket covering his body, with the paperwork neatly handled, your writing scribbled on some of the pages.

Get well soon.

—

Envy is a face Aventurine has long grown accustomed to seeing.

He saw it as Kakavasha; the look others give when they see his eyes, when they look at his profile. As Aventurine, he sees it in the eyes of space traders as they gaze upon his wealth, how the eyes of others fall onto him as he walks past.

Others get consumed by it, others deny it; Aventurine embraces it. He knows the feeling of having nothing and wishing he could have things others can have with little effort.

But the fact that he also wears its mask is ironic, especially given the subject of his envy.

The third time Aventurine bares his heart out to you, it had been an accident.

He shouldn't be jealous, envious of those who get to help you with the IPC’s missions. It is the right, sensible thing to do; because you make him feel illogical, unable to comprehend in the haze of longing.

(Perhaps lovesickness isn't too far off a word.)

This is why you make him break free of his self-imposed apathy at seeing you off. Aventurine checks the file you'd be heading off to, letters in pristine print along with his signature, an indication of his approval. Pier Point. The name besides yours that indicate that you will be travelling together burns him like scalding iron, stinging like a brand upon his skin. Something green and uncomfortable in him roars.

In a sense of uncharacteristic recklessness and perhaps brought upon by his longing; Aventurine ends up seeing you off.

“I'll get going now- Aventurine….?” your words falter when you watch as your co-worker strides toward you, terribly fast. “I thought you weren't coming to see me.”

“I can't have my dearest friend leave without seeing their handsome colleague’s face.” he says, like a liar. Small mercies to his ability to divert his inner feelings—and to not think about the fact that seeing you makes his heart throb in an ache no hunger can satiate.

You scoff, and thankfully you don't seem that irritated. If anything, you're in a good mood today. Even let him see the way your head tilts to bite back a smile. “How fortunate of me then.”

(He is.)

“Extremely.” he calls your name like a wager, seeking an answer. “How long are you going to be away this time?”

“Almost a month, maybe. I was told that since the Pier Point Incursion, many of those under your department have been stationed to help sustain the damage.”

“...I see. My well wishes to you then, friend. Seems you've got your work cut out for you.”

He's sulking, and you can't help but laugh. Like a golden retriever. “Why so glum? Don't tell me you'd miss me.”

And for all his grace at maintaining his carefully crafted mask, Aventurine's whole world stops when he hears the sound. “How could anyone ever not miss you?”

You pause mid-laugh. Aventurine feels his face heat. He slipped up. Again, because of you. Because you always made him feel as though the universe could stop and end with you; and that this rotten hunger that gnawed at his bones might just be that he cared for you far too much for his own good.

…And now he felt like he wanted to fall back into a sandpit and hide there forever. “Is that what you think, Aventurine?”

The way you say his name is so intoxicating. It sounds hesitant, seeing through him in an instant.

“Maybe.” He can't look at you right now, or else he'll imagine it—how could you ever feel the way he feels for you? When you were you and he was… him. “I'm afraid I've been too reliant on my closest colleague.”

“Then come with me next time.” you look at him as though he'd break at any moment; tender. There's something else, too. “If you'd miss me that much.”

You flash him a cheeky, lovely smile, and Aventurine loves, loves, and loves.

How unfair you are, capable of reducing him to bits; bringing him to your light and making his heart set off like fireworks in the night.

For now, he will be Aventurine—he could never resist such a tempting offer, not when its weight was far more valuable than any treasure of all.

He smiles, business-like in nature, one used to deceive, to lie. But Aventurine—Kakavasha smiles in fondness, in adoration. “It would be my pleasure.”

—

Aventurine has always thought that the space in his heart is empty because it was meant to be.

Because he is not worthy of feeling—he is a tool to be used; every part of him taken away and exploited away by others at their whim. In short, he is his best bargaining chip at any stability in his life.

“Aventurine, you’ll catch a cold if you keep forgetting to remove your coat.”

But you don't think that way, and it confuses him, to say the least. Like a shooting star, traces of your existence are specks in his life that have become far too important for him to let go.

Whether it be indulging in his whims of poker, allowing him to see the sight of your expressions in embarrassment and resignation, or the subtleties that have led him to believe (at least, he hopes to believe) that you do care.

And each time, Aventurine embeds your name into his heart even further, dreams of you in the far corners of his heart reserved only for the dead he needed to bury. His feelings, his family, and this growing attachment to you that became too difficult to hold back.

Even now, as you hand him a towel and take his wet coat out of the way, Aventurine doesn't know if this is a blessing or a curse. You are always like this—overwhelmingly blinding, tethering himself to you without warning with your compassion. “I won't get sick.”

“Uh huh.” your eyebrows raise, and you take him inside. “That’s what all the people who get sick after being soaked in the rain say.”

“Well, aren't you just charming.”

“Thanks, I'm told it's one of my defining qualities.”

He laughs, genuine. You're probably the only one to be able to bring out this part of him. “Such an angel you are.”

“Yes, yes, very much.” You smile with faux sweetness, though Aventurine's heart stutters anyway. “Stop patronizing me and dry off already.”

“Alright, no need to get so fussy.” he throws up his hands in surrender, and he waits until you leave his quarters, strides measured as you give him privacy to change.

Aventurine wonders if you know just how much he loves you. Because he knows he does.

Recently, Kakavasha has come to a dangerous conclusion.

Perhaps the reason the space in his heart is empty was because you had been dictated to fit in it, and that Aventurine knows he’d never want you to leave.

—

Grief haunts Aventurine like a ghost, an old friend. Anguish whispers in Kakavasha’s ears and dictates its path to be his destiny.

But love comes in the form of Aventurine’s adoration for you.

“Have you ever wondered what it would be like to die?”

“No.”

A lie. Aventurine has always had a morbid, twisted curiosity of death. Death is the earliest lesson taught to him, among the lessons of Mama Fenge and the cruel acts of the Katicans. Death is his companion, a reminder that his life is merely defined by his usefulness, his luck.

“Why are you asking?” It is a mundane question, spoken atop the glamourous balcony as you and him look down at the glittering streetlights in Penacony below, watching the people of the dreamscape live the life their reality never brought them.

“No reason. Just… I wondered.” You hum, and Aventurine notes the miniscule shiver of your body, the lowering of your gaze; you're thinking about something again. (He wonders if you'd let him listen to what you want to say.) “What death might be like in this dreamscape.”

An underlying feeling of tension. You know what Aventurine's been up to. What he's been searching for in order to act out the IPC’s plan. Though it infuriates you to know he's doing this to himself, you're powerless to do anything about it. There is a wall between you that Aventurine refuses to cross.

Instead, his silent question comes in the form of his coat draped around your back. There's no motion of rejection from you, which makes him feel nice—even if it's just for a while. “Thank you.”

You didn't need to thank him. Aventurine knows that he'd do anything for you anyway even if you don't ask a thing. But you do anyway, because you were lovely and blinding; and he yearns to grasp at even a single wisp of your reality.

“For what it's worth,” Aventurine says, the characteristic lilt of amusement in his voice gone, replaced with something authentic, “I wouldn't want you to die. Such a thing would be unfortunate for someone with lots of promise in the economic field.”

You glance at him with a funny look, exasperated but not surprised. “Well, I'm glad you think so highly of me...?”

He cringes at that, huffs out a weak ‘naturally’ as he stares out at the distance. The wall between you weakens.

“And, well, the sentiment is the same for me. I don't want you to die either.” you say, and the glow of the streetlights illuminate your face, and Aventurine's eyes don't leave your presence, wanting to burn the sight to his irises, to his pupils; never letting a fiber of your being go unloved. Retaining you and keeping you close when his hands cannot.

(If only you knew.)

“I wouldn't go down without a fight.” he says, and Aventurine takes you in—the ways in which you gaze upon the scenery below, watching how you chuckle as you hear the loud countdown to the fireworks, the way your voice has always been the light, his adoration for you a stone to grab on in his gamble in life.

There's silence. Loving you is like loving the way the air fills your lungs as you breathe, because loving you was as natural as breathing in the sandy dunes of the place he once called home, as natural as the Avgin that filled his ears, and loving you is everything to him, for Kakavasha was a dreamer, and you are his dreams personified.

Loving you reminds him of home, because you have burrowed your way into his bones, his lungs and his skin, and Kakavasha fills himself with your existence and lives. Loves.

He speaks your name like it's the last thing he could ever do, and that through you, Kakavasha lived, and Kakavasha loved you.

And like always, it's there. Your attention, on him, as he always knows it will be (and as he always hopes it shall be.) as you gaze at him like he's the brightest star in the sky. Or maybe it's the light refracting in your eyes. Aventurine doesn't really care which. “What is it?”

The wall between you two disappears completely, and Kakavasha begins anew, his heart undone.

When Aventurine finally bares his heart to you for the fifth time as the burst of fireworks ricochet across the skies, he hopes those three words will reach you.

bonus: the one time aventurine bares out his heart to you, and he gets rewarded.

Aventurine’s hair has always reminded you of the color of gold.

It is the color of the sunlight as it gently basks against your skin, the color of expensive champagne the man next to you so favors, and the color of the edges of his sunglasses.

(You've always been fond of yellow.)

“Aventurine?” you say, tone light, urging him to wake up. He's truly relentless, adamant on sulking as though his most valuable treasure would slip away from his grasp like you are right now because you were running late. “Can you let me get up now?”

“Good morning to you too.” purple eyes greet your form and an arm winds itself around your waist, pulling you even closer. “And unfortunately for you, I'm afraid I don't want to.”

“I'll be late. You know Jade hates tardiness-”

“-And I would be devastated to not have my lover by my side and leave me heartlessly.” Aventurine feigns, the falsity of his hurt not affecting you at all.

“You…” You frown at him, and Aventurine kisses the crease of your eyebrows of your face, enjoying the way your cheeks flush the like burn of alcohol down one’s throat. “You're so insufferable.”

“Mhm, whatever helps you let out that ire of yours.” he looks at you like he would the most precious of ores, the most valuable of cards—Aventurine looks at you unabashedly, wholly, in affection.

“Will you ever let me be on time?”

“Would you ever let me stop loving you?” he presses a kiss to your palm, tender as his hand traces circles on your palm. Aventurine already knows the answer.

“Thats two completely different things.” you sigh, but it's exasperatedly fond, and Aventurine’s heart skips a beat. He finds his answer when you press a chaste kiss upon the edge of his mouth. “Don't answer a question with a question.”

“It's a great conversation tactic, though. And to answer your question, no, I don't think I will.”

“Kakavasha.” You warn. His name on your lips feels a little like salvation, and Aventurine feels a warm ache fill his stomach, blooming into something not so dissimilar to devotion.

With you, there is no Aventurine of Strategems, no Aventurine of the Ten Stonehearts. All that remains is Kakavasha, one that loves you, and one that you love too.

Aventurine laughs, and the die is cast. “Let's make a bet then.”

“Ugh, not another one of those.” you groan, but you make no notion to refuse anyway.

“Sway my heart enough to let you go.” he smirks, cunning as ever. You roll your eyes, though it's nothing if not affectionate, determined glint shining in your eyes just like starlight.

“Oh, that's way too easy. Deal.”

Recently, he's come to a conclusion; Aventurine thinks that if it's with you, no gamble is worthier than this.

(With you, Aventurine is whole, and he is home.)

end notes im gonna kms i hate the ending like actually hate it this fic is the product of boundless hatred and the urge to never show it to the light ever but here i am

#mhie's spirals #—stellaronhvnters #aventurine x you #aventurine x y/n #hsr x gender neutral reader #hsr x you #hsr x reader #hsr aventurine #aventurine HSR #aventurine x reader #everyone say thank you to ieyn because she was the one who said the ending had to be fluff instead of aventurine dying in reader's arms ^^

1K notes · View notes

razzle-n-dazzle · 9 months ago

Note

saw u wanted more Adam fics

Adam x f!reader

reader is trying to sleep but Adam keeps trying to show her and tell her stuff. “Like babe hey babe look at this!”

“Babe babe wait did I tell you?”

“Babe holy shit wait guess what!!”

*meanwhile she screams into her pillow*

ᯓ★ "Adam, Love, SHUT THE F-" Adam / Reader | Drabble-ish

ᯓ Do you know those days where you just need a little piece and quiet? Like after a long day of work, where your boss was being unreasonable and your coworkers were being even more unbearable than usual. A long day when you go out to eat for lunch and yet the place you decide to go is busy more than usual, and of course it's on the one day you just wanted an easy meal, so you decide to sit and wait. What is the harm of that? Apparently, a lot. Especially when everyone has a stick shoved up their ass today, and when running over your lunch would have been understood and excused any day sparked a fire from Hell in Heaven. And it was only my five minutes! You were late to the office by five minutes despite having been sitting, waiting for lunch for twenty out of your thirty allotted minutes, and doing work to be ahead of schedule for your boss! You were late by five minutes because the sidewalks had been unreasonably crowded for that time of day and you had sprained your wing rushing not to be late earlier that morning because your boyfriend wanted to be up your ass for an extra five minutes this morning!

ᯓ Safe to say you just proved that there could be bad days in Heaven, no matter what anyone else said and you desperately needed a nap. Or maybe you just needed to knock out for the rest of the day, you weren't sure, all you knew was that your bed was calling your name and that was the only thing on your mind right now. Well, it had been the only thing on your mind until you stepped foot into your shared apartment. "Oh perfect fucking timing, Sugartits, come here!" Adam, with an obnoxious amount of energy today, waved you down to the couch. "Hurry up! You know I love to see that ass move when it walks, but this is super fucking important." And what could entertaining your boyfriend before you went and knockout for the rest of the night do? You mean, it was only thing he wanted to show you.

ᯓ "Fucking, look. Look!" Adam exclaimed as you heavily sat down next to him, allowing for him to cheekily swing an arm around your shoulder. This promptly led him to lean against you as he stuck his phone out, a video pulled up. You watched it to entertain him and his little fancy for whatever he had found; Being able to snuggle into his side in the process and listen to his hysterical laughter during the whole venture. It wasn't nothing too exciting, some sort of slapstick humor video and you understood why Adam found it hilarious, but you just didn't have the energy to laugh at it today. So you gave him a small chuckle as his arm found itself crossing down your back and wrapping around your hip, his hand resting on your thigh. "Oh fucking shit! You see, now that shit if fucking humor, comedy gold!" You needed whatever acid trip Adam was on and desperately.

ᯓ You would hum briefly in agreement towards his statement, feeling as his chest quickly rose and fall as he choked out laughter. Even with such motions you couldn't help but be drawn in by his warmth, snuggling closer to him. And you're sure he noticed, as he was sneakily trying to coax you more and more, using the hand that now was daringly close to your ass, to sit on his lap. Against his harsher, more lively breath, yours was slower and shallow, and as Adam managed to get you to snuggle up to his chest while on his lap, he took notice. It was hard to not to, especially when the sound of you not laughing with him just hit his ears. So confused, Adam would pear down at you. A few nervous bits of laughter left him, a silent signal for you to take notice of how he noticed your odd behavior, yet he died down as you didn't seem to notice (or care) much. Which caused his eyes to narrow and his eyebrows to frown up, a worried frown tugging onto the side of his lips. "Uh, Babe, you good?" His question was accompted by his gravely voice, which was now lower in volume and a lot less sure of himself. "You didn't fucking laugh at the video."

ᯓ "You do know this is comedy gold right? Gold! Not laughing at it would be a fucking crime." Adam would wave his cellphone near your face, flashing you with the bright light which caused you to promptly turn your head away from him. He noticed as your face scrunched, yet you didn't use your wings or hands to knock the phone out of his hand like usual. And that's when he really started to become concern. You weren't acting as you normally would with him, you weren't laughing at the videos he founded or retorting to his antics with your own. You were just laying there, curled up onto his lap with droopy wings and a weak hold around his chest. "Holy shit, Babe, you're not dying are you?" Was the first thing that blurted out of Adam's mouth, being the first thing thought that crossed his head as finally took a real notice of how bad of a state you're in. How the feathers on your wings seemed all out of sorts, how one wing was a little more puffed than the other, how eyebags had began to form under your eyes, and just how tired and weak you looked.

ᯓ "...and you're not getting fucking ugly either are you? It's not contagious is it? Because I can't be fucking ug-" You were swift to cut Adam off, pressing one of your hands against his mouth to muffle any more stupid shit he had to say in this moment. To which Adam drew back a little and started down at you, a moment of shock before unamusement crossed his face. He was gentle, more so than usual, as he picked up your hand by the wrist and drug it away from his mouth. Though he didn't say anything for a good moment, silently (and a little anxiously) waiting to see if you would say anything to him. And maybe it was the nerves on being the on the battle field too many times, or the anxiety of losing another lover, but Adam grew more and more disturbed at your lack of communication or movement the longer the silence wore on. "Babe," He gently nudged you, watching as you just let yourself roll back into place. You didn't even give a hum that time. Now Adam could feel his stomach doing little backflips. "Babe." This one came out a bit more stern as he nudged you a little harder. Yet, you only rolled back into place, not acknowledging his efforts on trying to make sure you weren't dying. Were you fucking dying? Holy shit, that would not be something Adam would want to go through today. "Babe! Sugartits!" Adam shouted, forcefully shoving you away from his warmth by the shoulders, "Please fucking tell me you're not about to die on me because that would be really fucking traumatic!.. If you're going to die at least do it in like, the bedroom or something!"

ᯓ You knew Adam didn't mean it, that he was just trying to stir a reaction out of you to make sure you were alright, yet his comment kind of pissed you off. Less so than when he forcefully drew you away from your only source of heat and comfort from the cruel reality you had to live today. So, reluctantly, you gave our a murmur, "...tired... shut up.." and forcefully tried to lay against Adam again; Trying to just take a small nap, or simply hide from the day you had today in your boyfriend's arms and warmth. Even if one of his hands had been resting on your ass. "Babe, you can't be fucking tired, it's not even dinner. Who the fuck is going to cook because last time I fucking remember you telling me I couldn't." Adam asked in a huff, though was silently relieved that you weren't just about to die in his arms like some dramatic soap opera. So, he let you lay back against his chest. It felt nice to have your weight there anyways. "Adam... shush.." Again, you tried to hush your rather obnoxious boyfriend, even for a little. And you knew he knew that you were tired, on the verge of passing out; It was a dead give away when he fluffed out his wings and wrapped them around you, noticing had dead you felt against him.

ᯓ "But you're still fucking making dinner though, right?" He would quip, a snicker growing on his dumb face as he leaned down to the side, promptly laying you both down. Now you knew he was just being a dick about it, that or he was just glad that you weren't silently suffering and dying against his chest. But either way, you were going to leave his question unanswered as you buried his head against his chest. No matter how much shit Adam might give you, you always found comfort in his warmth and with him being near. It was kind of like having an annoying dog that looked and sounded all tough and scary and was sometimes a big dick, but secretly cared about you under all the gunk. "Fuck it, I'll just order in." Adam muttered, placing his chin on the top of your head (having to curl around you a little to do so) as you were sure he began to pull up menus of restaurants nearby that delivered. And as you drifted off to sleep, you liked to believe he did so, so you didn't have to worry about cooking when you woke up. But you knew that was only half the truth, the other half was that he was probably craving those lamb chops he absolutely adores. And you were fine with that.

Home | Masterlist

ᯓ★ All posts/fanfictions posted under this blog is owned by @razzle-n-dazzle. Please do not steal, copy, or plagiarize the works! Likes, reblogs, and comments are always appreciated.

#hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin adam x reader #adam x reader #hazbin hotel #hazbin adam #adam x you #hazbin hotel headcanon #hazbin hotel adam #adam hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel season 1 #x reader #not proof read #not proofread #hazbin #hazbin x reader #hazbin hotel imagine #hazbin imagine #hazbin hotel x you #hazbin hotel x y/n

1K notes · View notes

shotmrmiller · 4 months ago

Text

forcing your presence onto simon late at night because insomnia and a cup of tea always helps, or so they say, but you were taught better than to not offer others some but now the steaming cup is just sitting on the table to cool while you carefully sip on yours.

he doesn't look at it, you, nothing. keeps his eyes fixed on whatever he's doing, maybe cleaning his gun or something. fine. what matters is that you did your part.

and it eventually becomes routine. every night, like clockwork, he's darkening a corner in the coffee room and you've got a kettle warming. and every night, he ignores everything in his peripheral.

until he doesn't. it starts slow. you're already headed for the door, hand covering your yawn when he picks up the mug and takes a sniff. then, it's the tiniest sip, as if it's got teeth. come morning, the mug you used and his are clean, drying on a dish mat.

the following night, he waits for you to put it on the table before grabbing it. "you've a shit hand," he mutters. "left to steep too long. more bitter than the cigars price smokes."

okay. bastard. the next pot is too bland. calls it dog water. but he drinks all of it just the same. little to no sugar, splash of milk. the stare he leveled your way when he added milk could've destroyed the block.

"secrets safe with me, lieutenant. swear it."

unless he's tearing your ego into tatters with his scathing tea critique, he says nothing else. listens well enough, though. maybe. his eyes look blank most of the time. but he lets you ramble without interruption about nonsensical stuff; your day, your job, soap being the usual nuisance.

it's nice.

and then you fall ill. nothing water and cocooning yourself with your bedsheets for a day or three can't fix.

but then there's a very violent knocking on your door, hard enough to rattle it in its hinges, flaring the already painful throbbing that sits behind your eyes. no matter how hard you try to tell them to piss off, they don't.

"open the door."

now you've got a 6'2+ man barreling into your bedroom, turning his unnerving gaze your way. his eyes flick to your runny nose, chapped lips and wrinkled sleeping clothes.

"you're sick." brilliant observation. truly a man worth his sniper position.

"yes. i'm quite-" your words come to settle behind your clenched teeth as you watch him dig into his front pockets and pull out crinkled tea bags. and open your cabinets because now you're the visitor and he the (g)host.

you'd rather drink battery acid than another one of his brews. it made your eyes prick with tears, burned as it went down, warmed your chest. it was lukewarm when you drank it.

(he clears up a space on your foot table, and by clear up i mean use an arm to shove everything off the edge so he can continue to clean his weapons. has your couch always been that small?)

#he still doesn't talk #just listens to you mouth breath #what puts you to sleep that night is the constant clicking of metal against your wooden table #the next night it's his tongue #SORRY HAD TO SAY IT #ITS PURELY FACT #also mr. lieutenant sir can you let me sleep i am so tired and not everyone has incredible stamina like you do #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley

745 notes · View notes

rel124c41 · 4 months ago

Text

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.

#twisted wonderland x reader #jade leech #jade leech x reader #twisted wonderland #twst jade #lwk hate this but we UP‼️‼️

698 notes · View notes

gothamhappiness · 3 months ago

Text

The nightmare (Jason Todd x GN!reader)

Warnings: no proof reading, angst, kinda comfort but not really, mentions of blood, violence, Joker, dark!Jason at the end

You woke up sweating and your heart beating so fast that you thought it was going to explode inside your chest. You sat up before frantically looking for your boyfriend Jason in the bed. You needed several instants to collect yourself and remember that he was patroling away tonight.

You couldn't stay in bed, not after the nightmare you just had. You needed to busy yourself until Jason came back. You went into the kitchen and started to prepare some tea. Hopefully, it could calm down your nerves. You wanted to call Jay, but you were worried you would distract him during a mission.

The tea didn't help. Your eyes were focused on the time passing by. You were getting very distraught now. What if something had happened to Jason?

Just like in your nightmare.

At the instant you heard the window getting opened, you rushed to it. Red Hood barely had the time to get inside; you were already hugging him before checking him for any injuries. If your warm welcome made Jay smile at first, it was until he noticed how anxious you were. He removed his helmet, let it fall on the ground before gently cupping your face into both of his hands.

"Hey babe. Is everything alright?" he whispered to you

"I'm just... so happy to see you're all good" you replied, starting to cry.

Jason panicked. He wasn't standing to see you in such a bad state of mind. He quickly sat you down on the couch, then knelt down in front of you, trying to comfort you with gentle words and touch. You managed to calm down after a little while.

"I'm so sorry, this is so silly. I just had this nightmare and I worried about you and..." you babbled

"What nightmare, love?" Jay asked

You didn't reply. You weren't too sure you wanted to talk about it to Jason. He took your hands in his and stroked them.

"Alright, I'm gonna grab a shower and..."

"Let me take care of you" you asked

Jason simply nodded, he couldn't deny you anything.

You helped him undress and then washed him with great care and tenderness. It was allowing you to stop thinking about the nightmare. Jay enjoyed your quiet love for him. You were the only person who ever cared for him like that. He was so grateful you were part of his life. He didn't know how he could live without you.

He also looked after you in a comfortable silence even though your boyfriend hated to see you so tense. For the moment, he allowed you to keep your thoughts to yourself.

But at the instant you both settled in bed, he gently guided you on his lap. You instinctively snuggled against him.

"So, what's going on?" he whispered

"I'm not positive that I want to tell you about it..." You admitted

"Why not?" He stroked your cheek

"It was about... him." You said

"Him?" Jason asked even if he guessed your answer

"The Joker." You replied

"Alright, what happened with him?" He asked, his jaw clenched

"He... kidnapped the two of us. You were tied up on a chair, and his goons took me on top of a pool full of acid. Joker told me I had the choice. Or I could watch him club you to death, or I could jump in the acid." You explained.

Jason's face was unreadable, but deep down, he was losing his mind.

"And what did you say, love?"

"I jumped of course, and I woke up" you murmured.

Jason instantly grabbed your face and brought you even closer to him.

"My love, I need you to make a promise to me then. Even if I'll do anything to keep you safe, if one day something like that happens, never choose me over yourself. Promise me you'll do everything to stay alive." he was deadly serious

"But Jay..."

"No but. I don't matter."

"How can you say something like that! This is not true! I love you" You cried out

"Let's me rephrase that. If I die, nothing bad will truly happen out of it. You'll get upset, but it'll pass. On the other hand, I can assure you that no one in Gotham would want to deal with the aftermath of your death."

"What... what do you mean?" You frowned

"That if anything happened to you, I'll burn this whole city to the ground and there would be no survivor. Not even Batman." Jason darkly promised

"Jay..." You were speechless

"You are my world, my everything, and if I lose you, everyone goes down with me. So now promise me you'll always pick yourself over me and anyone else, baby." He continued

"I... I promise you." You replied as you realised it was the only answer you could give him.

#jason todd x reader #jason todd x s/o #jason todd x you #jason todd x y/n #jason todd imagine #dc characters #dc joker #batfam x reader

496 notes · View notes

ice-cream-writes-stuff · 3 months ago

Text

Spider and Bats Snippets 2

[0.] [1.]

I headcanon Spider!(Y/N) meets Clark/Superman on accident before Batman does.

Just, imagine. Your heading to a part time job, super excited about it! Get on the bus, and wait... Then fall asleep..

The bus driver kicks you out at the Mertropolis bus station. Not good! You don't have enough for a ticket back to Gotham so you managed to get a part-time job at The Daily Planet, as the coffee runner! Simple enough?

Bumping into a meek Clark Kent, who is shyly thanking you for his cup of joe'. Then you, eagerly wanting a new friend in a strange enviorment, (again), asking about what he's writing.

"Wow Kent, didn't expect you to snag the new girl."

Lois teased light-heartedly. "Oh, ha-ha it's nothing like that. They're a good friend."

He shrugs it off as Lois shakes her head. "Sheesh, a lot of fella's make a LOT of trouble with that word. Good luck Smallsville."

Blinking in confusion, you were suprised she didn't notice you as you walk up beside him. "Huh... Wait, you think were good friends!?" You beam in awe at Clark, happily spinning around his desk chair. "Clark! You should of said something sooner!"

You let go, now thoughtful. "Hmmm, we should do friendship bracelets then.. I mean, I did make one with another friend of mine.. OH! I got an' idea-" "-Guh.. I-I think I.. Need to rain check.."

"Hm? What's wrong? You look dizy... Vomit-y."

I know there's different versions of how Batman met Superman. Personally, I perfer The Animated Series Ver!

I would like to think, Robin and Nightwing asked her to get Superman's autograph as a casual comment if Spider(Y/N) went to Mertropolis.

So during her "stay" at the other city, she'd often patrol and help a bit when she could.

Would totally meet Supes' on acident.

"Wow! Hello! Why is your city so much cleaner? I like your cape! Reminds me of Miguel-!" You try to descalate the situation.

You happily greet him, babbling as your buddy glared at you. You shrug at Batman's gaze, giving him a slight push. Herding him close to your side incase of any... Bad, course of action, between you and the supposed "Man of Steel".

Superman paused at the greeting, after thrown into a wall. He expected more hostily from you as well, since he read most crime-fighters were, due to the Gotham Gazette. Yet you seemed more occupied with keeping the Batman away from HIM.

Using his x-ray vision, he peaked underneath your masks.

"Bruce Wayne..." He mumbled under his breath as Batman shoved you to the side. Glaring at the super-powered male, "You peeked.."

"Hm? He did what?" You weren't paying attention, more focused on the destruction and damage. Frowning worriedly, knowung your "unexpected vaction" would meet it's end.

Superman The Animated Series: Season 1 Ep 16 - World's Finest Part 1

I can see Spider!(Y/N) being pen-pals with lot's of heros and vigilantes. Possibly even anti-heros and villians?

Carefully web-shooting the civillians away, you keep squint as you watch them dance in sync. Slightly envious, before shooting a glance at Batman.

He collapsed as groups of Music Meisters pawns held him down. Grunting as he tried to move away. You used your web to toss them away quickly. Huffing as you glanced down at your comrade.

Even with the ear-plugs, you couldn't help it!

As if spotlight shone on your cue, you sang encouragingly. Smiling underneath your mask, you hold out a hand to him. He grasps it as you slowly pull him up.

♫⋆｡♪ ₊˚♬ ﾟ."And you can rise above...!" ♫⋆｡♪ ₊˚♬ ﾟ.

The Brave and the Bold Season 1 Episode 25 Mayhem of the Music Meister!

We all know that THEE Batman has a certain type.

But this is for fun, so, (。ゝ(ェ)・)-☆

Overall, I stated perviously, it's more a comedic pairing that has many set-ups to be serious.

Watching Catwoman flee once more, you walk to Bat's side. Standing beside him politely, before.. Slowly... Reaching out your hand to his. Holding it firmly with no caution.

The vigilante glares at the action, yet you don't let up as he tries to shake your hand away.

You giggle as you watch your arm swing with his, your laughter becoming louder as he finally gave in.

Batfam relationship depends on if Spider!(Y/N) came before or after the Batfam was formed.

Personally, I perfer it before. I feel like it would show growth in Bat's and Spiders dynamic.

I sorta wanna explore it, but if ya'll got ideas Im open to it.

{Yay! Another self-indulg work! Lol. I was inspired once again, I really just love that more people are intrested in the idea than just myself! Horray! Comments, art, reblogs are always wanted! This is purely for fun! If anyone gets the easter egg I put, let me know!}

456 notes · View notes

darylssunshine · 5 months ago

Note

daryl x reader

“whoa hey, you’re bleeding.” reader maybe not realizing it until she looks down. falling into his arms and daryl callin for help. whump whump whumppp . set at the prison ?

Family

word count: 1.1k

a/n: finally getting into the swing of things with requests. hope you enjoy anon <3

~~~

The sounds of people yelling and the banging of chain link fences echoed throughout the prison courtyard. You jabbed your knife through yet another walker, grunting as you pushed it through its thick skull. You, along with everyone else in your small group, including Carl, had been at this for at least an hour now, but it was necessary to keep the prison safe. Still, the constant stabbing motion had your upper arm aching. Probably acid and bile rising up from your stomach, too.

“I got the last one!” Glenn called out from the middle of the formation, sticking his knife right in the middle of the walker’s eye. Audible sighs of relief could be heard from the group, along with a victory ‘whoop’ from Carl. Standing right beside you, Daryl was flicking the excess undead blood from his knife and his hands, wiping the rest on his pants. He shaked a stray hair out of his eye then wiped a hand down his face, sighing and sheathing his now blood-free knife.

“Jesus. Glad that’s over. Can’t wait to do that again tomorrow.” He scoffed, leaning against the fence and stretching his overused right arm.

“I know, right? My arm is killing me. Gonna have to… ” You trailed off, suddenly feeling a wave of dizziness wash over you. You leaned your arm against the fence for support and lowered your head, squeezing your eyes shut.

Daryl stopped leaning against the fence and took a cautious step forward towards you. “Hey, you okay?”

You immediately snapped your gaze back up to the archer, desperately trying to seem like you had your shit together. “Yep. Yeah. I’m okay.” You placed your free hand on your hip to simulate normality. That’s when Daryl looked you up and down and his eyes suddenly went wide.

“Woah, woah, woah, hey, hey! Yer bleedin’!!” He quickly stepped toward you, glancing down sporadically.

You placed your hand on your stomach, discovering the right side was wet and sticky. It was, in fact, blood.

“Fuckin’ damn it.” You mumble, before going limp and falling into Daryl’s arms, him catching you by the armpits.

His heart immediately started racing when he caught you and layed you carefully on the dying grass. The few that surrounded you stepped back to give you some space. He instantly got on his knees and inspected your injuries, praying to whatever deity was listening that you hadn’t gotten bit. After a string of mumbled expletives, he shouted, “I need some fuckin’ help over here!” To no one in particular, his frantic eyes never leaving your closed ones.

What he didn’t see happening behind him was Rick rushing to get Hershel, while Maggie and Glenn hurriedly grabbing a makeshift stretcher and bringing it to wear you laid. He quickly got to his feet and helped you onto the stretcher. He was by your side the entire time and throughout all of the noise and chaos, you could swear you could hear Daryl whispering, “They’re gonna be fine. They’re gonna be fine.”

—

You groggily opened your eyes and instantly felt a stinging on your right side. The events of the past hour flooded back, and you wince. You cautiously felt the area, and thankfully you felt a clean bandage.

Judging by the beige ceiling and the firm yet surprisingly comfortable mattress you were on, you had been placed in Hershel’s room. You slowly moved your head to the side, expecting to be met with an equally beige wallpaper, but to your surprise, you were met with a sleeping, hot headed, brunette, redneck.

He was spread out in a chair he had brought from the dining room. His head was lolled towards you, his hair in his eyes and snoring quite loud. You smiled, heart slightly skipping a beat at the thought of him not wanting to leave your side.

“Hey.” You rasped, cringing at your own voice.

Daryl, being a naturally light sleeper, immediately blinked awake. It took a second for the fog of sleep to leave his brain, but it left fast when he realized that you were awake. That you were alive.

“Holy fuck. (Y/N.) Hey. How’re ya feelin’?” He rambled, scooting the chair closer to the bed and sitting on the edge of it.

“Like shit. But I’ll be fine.” You sighed in response.

“Good.” Daryl said softly, letting out a breath he didn’t even know he was holding. “Hershel said you probably got scratched by a walker. That true?”

You averted his gaze from his and started picking your fingernails, a nervous habit you’ve had since you were a child. “It happened while we were dealing with that hoard. I didn’t wanna make a scene.”

You heard him sigh deeply and didn’t speak for a moment. You turned your head back towards him, and he had his head in his hand, almost willing himself to speak. He looked up and his eyes looked redder and puffier than they were before. “Why th’ fuck would ya do tha’?”

You slowly sat up in a somewhat sitting position to better look him in the eyes. “We all have to protect this place, Daryl! This family! It’s something that most don’t have these days.”

“We coulda had one less person in th’ family if you’d told me about tha’ any later.” He motioned to your wound with a nod of his head.

“You guys can function without m-” You were cut off from your half-joking comment.

“I can’t, ‘kay?! I can’t. So shuddup. Don’t say tha’.” He suddenly raised his voice a little, making you shut your lips and look at him with your full attention.

“Look. I don’t want ya gettin’ hurt. I care about ya. Always have.” He gazed into your eyes with such a fondness you could’ve started crying right then and there. And you would’ve, if he didn’t look away from you in sudden embarrassment. “Yer the only one who keeps me sane ‘round here.”

You sniffed, chuckling to cover up the tightness growing in the back of your throat. “That why you stayed and kept me up with your snoring?”

“Shuddup.” He repeated, sounding exasperated, but you didn’t miss the slight smile on his face.

He then stood up, flexed his probably sore neck, and put a reassuring hand on your shoulder. More heat blossomed onto your cheek at the sudden contact.

“Gonna go get Hershel now that yer awake.” He said softly before walking towards the door.

“Can you bring me dinner after pleeeeease?” You asked, your hands in a prayer motion and your eyelashes batting.

He turned around in the doorframe, his hands in his pockets.

“Sure. ‘S a date.” He drawled, winked, then walked away like nothing happened.

Maybe you should have thanked that walker before you stabbed him.

#daryl dixon #twd #the walking dead #twd daryl dixon #daryl twd #daryl dixon fanfiction #asks #daryl dixon fanfic #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon the walking dead #daryl dixon x gender neutral reader #gender neautral reader #daryl dixon x you #daryl dixon x y/n #daryl dixon whump #daryl dixon angst

468 notes · View notes

courtofparrots · 3 months ago

Text

Luis is the only motherfucker in the whole cult that knows how to store chemicals

I'm being so serious right now, thanks to @geddy-leesbian and her screenshots I've learned the hazardous waste management in the Los Illuminados labs is ABYSMAL.

Now the game doesn't put a ton of variety into the chemicals that can be found in the lab, it's most often two different things: Iron chloride and hydrochloric acid. You shouldn’t leave random chemicals out anywhere, but especially hydrochloric acid is DANGEROUS and these bitches leave bottles EVERYWHERE!!! Look! Out in the open! On the concrete floor tipped over! RAWDOGGING IT

But Luis Serra Navarro knows better. He's an Umbrella-trained scientist. He keeps his shit locked up correctly AND he stores his hazardous waste collections in a proper containment area (in the states at least it's required that we have them in a bin so we don't risk it falling off the counter, and then all dangerous chemicals currently in use get locked into cabinets.) Look at Luis's chemical storage area:

Gorgeous. Immaculate. All chemicals in a cabinet and waste collection bottles in the yellow tub. He does lose some points for the castle lab tho where he has some HCl sitting on the shelf

But all in all Luis's lab is a breath of fresh air after seeing the rest of the island facilities, and I thought it would be fun to draw attention to.

Also for extra funsies here is the waste containment corner in my own lab as a comparison. Note how similar our chemical bottles are to the ones in game UGH I love the detail it's so cool. The little side handles and everything!

(The bottles in front of the bins don’t have anything hazardous in them it’s just ethanol)

all RE4R screenshots by geddy-leesbian!

#also realized that all the dead fish in the lake and fish farm might be due to poor hazardous waste management #I just know they're dumping all their shit down the drain #luis serra #resident evil #re4 remake #science posting #writing resource

277 notes · View notes

nikki0606 · 20 days ago

Text

my man | aizawa shouta X reader

[oneshot; (part 1) . (part 2 will be out soon)]

It's bittersweet walking through the gates of the school building you would run around in with your friends almost a decade ago now.

Not a thing has changed, you can still imagine yourself chasing Shirakumo to get back your lunch while the other girls leave you behind not wanting to deal with what comes next.

This 'next' is Yamada's loud calls. Obviously, the whole of the school would know who he is looking for during the breaks. His voice made it from one end of the school to the other and that, when U.A. covers a massive swathe of land.

One of the only unfamiliar places of the school is where you're headed now– the teachers' lounge.

It's going to go well.. relax.

You're nervous, not because you've now chosen to teach in the very school you yourself became a hero but because you will finally be in front of the faces you haven't seen in ages having needed to move abroad immediately after school for your mother's cancer treatment.

The door opens before you can hold the knob revealing the same principal from years ago, you wonder if he ever ages at all.

"Just in time, (L/n)-san. I just briefed the other teachers about you." his lips curve to the same smile you've known forever and instantly, one rises up your face, he continues, "How have you been?"

"I've been doing well." you smile and enter as he open the door thereby coming into sight of all the people sitting in the room.

"That's brilliant to hear." Nezu lifts his paw, but before he can say anything else, a way-too-loud call of "(Name)-chan! You're the new teacher?" cuts in.

Nezu doesn't hold you both back from having your moment. Instantly, Yamada hurries in for a hug, "You're back– wait, I should be mad at you for not keeping in touch!"

Midnight is next, she calls you her favourite Kohai from school times and brags to everyone about the fun you all would have fun after basically lifting you and swinging you around in the hug.

The others teachers chuckle and them and tell you they haven't been their chaotic selves in some time before this.

It is during the talk with the new people around that you notice Aizawa Shouta leaned against the wall in the corner of the room, his face turned to the ground in front and a conflicted look adorning it.

Your lips twitch– he hasn't even come to greet you despite you having returned after almost a decade.

Something tells you you shouldn't be surprised, however. He has always been his 'stay out of attention' self. Maybe he didn't want to draw too much of attention to the fact that he knows you too?

But he is a teacher here so he shouldn't be complaining about attention in the first place.

Oh, whatever reason it is.

You make your way to him while the fuzziness from years ago enters your chest again. It's alright– you know you feel exactly the same way for him as you did years ago.

Or maybe whatever this is more intense. You've longed for him for almost a decade now after all.

"Shouta-kun." his name sounds melodic as it leaves your lips, "H-How are you doing?" there is a small pause, "I mean.. y-you remember me, right?"

The indifferent, unfamiliar look in his eyes makes your throat fill up with an acidic doubt. You swallow hard.

"I don't have the memory of a goldfish, (Name)-chan." he sigh and turns his head to the side, "Of course I remember you. You were way to noisy to forget back then."

"I can't tell whether that's a compliment or an insult." the laugh that escapes your lips is more of relief than amusement.

He hums, then steps away from you, turning to say, "Go figure out." before he walks off.

You halt, blinking a few times at his figure leaving the room.

"It's time for class." Yamada's arm falls on your shoulder, "It's not that he's running from you or something, okay?"

You let out a snort, "As if I'd assume that." but you partially have.

"Lie to someone else." he shakes his head, then holds his hands in front of his face, "Shouta-kun's mind is tunnel visioned to his students like this during work hours here. All of ours are– minus Nemuri-chan because she's.. well forget it, you'll get to know –but, point is, you'll have to work hard here, (Name)-chan."

"Oh, hit me with anything, Hizashi-kun." your lips tug upwards.

He frowns, "But that day I hit you with the iron rod, you cried."

_______________________________________________

"What does go figure out even mean?" your head rests against the glass window. Classes ended half an hour ago and you're proud to say you did pretty well for a first time.

"It means go figure out." Yamada gives you company to act like an idiot in front of the departing students, "What do you think it is, a compliment or an insult?"

"Totally an insult." you deadpan at him.

"At least your retardation hasn't gotten worse over the years." Aizawa's voice walks past the both of you and you and Yamada immediately jolt straight and turn to see him walk away with test papers.

"A test on the first day of school after summer break?" you shiver, "Shouta-kun's the devil to his students."

"Oh," Yamada shakes his head pitifully, "he is. Before the last year, he always told the whole class they've failed and are expelled from the school just to give them a near death experience."

"That idiot.. " your gaze lingers on his figure walking further away in the corridor. The boy you knew was just nineteen when you last saw him.

He's a man now.

They both really did age well.

Your mind prefers to place Aizawa on the top of this 'aging well' hierarchy until Midnight comes into your mind and you have to readjust with a chuckle.

To celebrate your return, Yamada drags you all into a restaurant he owns for dinner later that evening.

Partially, you hope he would have given you time to get dressed pretty for a certain pair of tired black eyes but the other part argues you've lose your head in stress of what to wear and what to not if that happened.

Conversations drag on at the table while plates empty into all of your stomachs. Being heroes means a massive diet after all.

"And then there was this weird self-obsessed-ish kid." you did try to eat decently in front of the others but they remembered how rabid you are so it was no good.

"Who– wait, I know. It's Monomoa." Yamada laughs, "No one else in 2B fits under that terminology."

"He's not self obsessed, come on." Aizawa sighs and shakes his head, "Are you seriously considering teaching at U.A. a joke?"

"I mean.. " you shrug, "they took you in so it would be pretty lousy here, wouldn't it?"

Yamada and Kayama laugh.

"Oh?" Aizawa's eyebrows raise, "Says the girl who lost a Sports Festival match because a bug got into her costume."

"For your information, it was a worm." you gag at the memory, "And it reminded me of you and your yellow sleeping bags, Shouta-kun. Now tell me then, do you want something that reminds me of you to be wiggling around my boobs?"

Yamada snorts out a glass of water to the side. Aizawa scoffs though he clearly is surprised to see you're just as shameless as you were back then.

"When will you ever grow up?" he rolls his eyes.

"When you get your hair cut short." you place the glass on the table with full confidence, ignoring the way Yamada signals you to change your statement from the side.

"Tomorrow then." Aizawa nods, his lips pulling into his signature shit-eating grin, "If you don't grow up tomorrow, you're responsible for cleaning up all toilets in the staff room."

You realize he would definitely have his hair chopped if it means rubbing this into your face, "Don't you dare touch your hair, Shouta-kun." you life your knife up at him, "Those luscious locks must stay."

While Aizawa facepalms, Kayama laughs out loud in laughter. You tell her she's laughing at anything and she replies telling you you're hilarious.

"And," you turn back to Aizawa, "if that's your way of inviting me to your bathroom, Shouta-kun, I accept the offer." the way he rolls his eyes is enough to make you stop using the playfully seductive tone.

Yamada rubs his cheeks, "Man, living with Shouta-kun's going to give me depression. I haven't laughed much yet but my cheeks already hurt. I'm so glad you're back, (Name)-chan."

"Me too." your expressions melt like butter, you flash them all a beautifully genuine smile, voice getting the slightest bit heavy, "I missed you all so much."

"If you cry, I'll puke." Aizawa comments.

"If I puke, I'll make you lick it all off." you comment back, expressions stoic and staring into space.

Aizawa makes a disgusted face. Kayama has almost actually puked out something at the thought. This sort of talk while eating effects Yamada as little as it does you.

"You took general studies too?" Aizawa sighs and decides to change the topic before you say something more gross.

"Yep."

"Anyone noticeable?"

"If you mean that purple turnip head boy with eyes as head as yours, yes. If you mean anything other than the fact that he's probably an insomniac, no." you shrug and take a bite of your food.

"That's Shouta-kun's son." Yamada snidely mentions. You choke and cough out the contents of your mouth.

"Stop it, Hizashi-kun." Aizawa tiredly leans in his chair.

"You know I won't, don't you?" he grins, "That's the kid Aizawa gives personal lessons too because the kid's quirk is brain related and– oi, he's not actually Shouta-kun's son."

"Oh?" you'd been moments away from hyperventilating and talk airily, "O-Of course.. I-I mean why would he be.. Shouta-kun's too young to have a kid that old."

"Shouta-kun wouldn't have a kid at all because he would sleep through the wedding." Kayama repeats an OG joke from the childhood and you and Yamada laugh nostalgically.

Aizawa's head lolls back tiredly, "So this is a one-sided bullying session against me?"

"Aw, don't be sad about it, Shouta-kun." you coo, "They say only the prettiest people get bitched about. I'm sure you wouldn't mind."

He turns to you, "What stupid romance novel did you read this in now?"

You blink, "What do you mean romance novel?"

"Considering your life outside fantasy is non existent." he tilts his head, "What was that fiction you would read back in the day? You remember it, Hizashi-kun?"

"Ah.. " his eyebrows raise as your ears glow red, "I'd totally forgotten.. don't remember what it was about, though."

Aizawa's grin returns, "A weird hero with silky black hair saves a girl from death and they fall in– " you cut him off before he can say something more to embarrass you.

Just as fucking oblivious about it now too, aren't you, Shouta-kun.

"You paid a lot of attention to me back then, eh, Shouta-kun." this gives you the responsive pause you need, "You even remember the details of the story. Oh my, you weren't jealous, were you?"

Take that, bitch.

The voice in your head says it in too adoring a way for you to be able to muster any sassy expressions. A soft look adorns your face instead.

Aizawa's expressions have dropped to zero. His ears well hidden under his own hair are radiating heat now, it's obvious by the unusual tint against his pale skin.

"Exposed." Yamada snickered, "Poor boy Shouta."

"Shut up, will you?" the man frowns and drops himself against the chair once more, "Fucking noisy, both of you."

"Oh my," your hand comes to your mouth, "did I just hear sensei swear? How dirty."

"I will kill you." he threatens, head turning away.

"Oh," you say in a dramatized tone, "don't you already?"

Aizawa huffs, his scarves covering his cheeks to hide the tint of pink. Kayama realises she wants to see the same colour on your face.

"First day back and she's already flirting with Shouta-kun." her snicker punches your guts, "How obvious you make your crush on him, (Name)-chan."

The effect is immediate, hot red pumps into your face. You pass her a betrayed look but she and Yamada are too busy grinning at each other to care.

Aizawa doesn't interfere or even choose to take a shot against you at this. He pretends to not have heard this at all.

Your lips curve low, it bothers you that he would not react in any way on hearing something like this.

Even if he is not interested in you, you still do wish to have some or the other sort of response from him whenever you gather the courage to confess to him but this firsthand scenario doesn't bring in much.

The cold look from the teacher's lounge appears in your mind momentarily.

You find the need to take a bathroom break.

_______________________________________________

It's been some time since you've been teaching at U.A., though it was mostly a behind-the-curtain work schedule.

Nezu has decided to make you an official homeroom teacher the next year which means you get teacher training.

"What are we doing?" you're not very sure about what Yamada is leading you into. Principal Nexu did say there is going to be a new task for you today and that your loud friend would take you to it but it definitely has nothing to do in front of Aizawa's classroom, right?

Yamada barges in, "Yeeaah!" he's just as full of energy as ever, "Good morning my lovely little listeners!"

There is a decently energetic response.

While Aizawa tells him to get out, Yamada makes an annoucement, "I'm going to introduce a new teacher to you all today! She's your sensei's very special friend."

You're not the only one who has facepalmed. Aizawa tiredly begs you to take him away with the look on his face.

The students beat you teachers to making a move, though.

"Are we talking about the new teacher you were standing beside with your head against the window with yesterday?" a girl asks.

"Bingo!" Yamada's hands point to her, "This new teacher is," you're dragged inside with one hand, "(L/n) (Name) sensei! The one person in the world who knows how to bully your sensei!"

Aizawa claps sarcastically, "Wow, what an enlightening introduction."

"You really could have done better, Hizashi-kun." you feel embarrassed to be pulled in front of everyone like this, "That's just.. "

"Whatever it is, out, both of you. Now." Aizawa orders.

You hold back from making a 'hot sensei giving orders' joke about him in front of the kids and choose to focus a little longer on the way his hair hangs around his face.

"Oi, her training session briefing is under your surveillance." Yamada tells him and Aizawa mutters something about wanting to be dead, "Take care of the both of them, you all!" he turns to the students.

They don't immediately understand.

"They could either A, fight and kill each other or B, make out and be kicked out from the– " you grab his arm and throw him out, then instantly turn to the class with a strict look.

"Don't you all dare get any funny ideas."

They all clearly push the gossip for later when they reply with a "yes ma'am".

Aizawa behind you looks like he's about to bang his head to the wall. Clearly, he isn't very eager to see his students get the wrong idea and thereby become a topic of gossip.

You honestly wouldn't step in that pit either.

"I'll only be joining you all for training session today." you have your strict face on, "If you think your sensei is bad, I'm a nightmare." but it just so happens that Aizawa snorts at that spoiling the seriousness behind your words.

When you turn to him, you find him trying to make a straight face through amusement. That, but the students can see because he's turned away from them and is walking towards you.

"Grab your suits and hurry down to training." he tells them, "And you, nightmarish teacher, come behind me."

Your jaw drops, "Are you ridiculing me, Shouta-kun?" of course the kids wouldn't mind some drama from you too, right?

Well Shouta's fault, not mine.

"Yes. I'm surprised your pea sized brain can tell." he walks out of the class leaving you behind but not any chances for you to cause the drama until the students turn to you.

"Good luck, new sensei." one of them says, "Go turn the look in your eyes to words and he'll say yes for sure.. maybe.. "

"Hey, what the hell?" you snap your head towards this blond boy with the black lighting bolt in his hair, "Behave." but he looks too conflicted to pay attention.

"Actually, he's definitely going to reject you." he speaks up a moment later, "B-But that's because Aizawa sensei has zero romance drive, not because you're not cool or something. You're super cute— ah, nevermind."

His face buries in his hands.

You don't understand whether to coo at the kid or just laugh out loud. Aizawa peeks in from the side of the door a moment later and you decide to just escape the odd situation.

Some strict nightmarish teacher you are.

_______________________________________________

"Oh, you fucking monster." your body is sore, "This was supposed to be training for the kids, not me."

"Right?" Aizawa lazily examines the papers, "It's such a shame you're so out of shape. How good you were back when we were kids."

"Says the guy who always defeated me in the sports festivals." you frown.

"You never even tried to fight." he hums, eyes focused on the training report sheets he made the students write, "Never understood that. I do remember how mercilessly you threw Hizashi out of boundaries."

"Couldn't hurt your pretty face, you know." you shrug, heat rising to your cheeks but you play it cool, "Plus Hizashi was just annoying during sports festivals."

"His quirk is being loud, (Name)-chan." Aizawa's eyes roll over to your for a moment. You find yourself admiring how well he has matured once again, "But that being put aside, how come you're this out of shape?"

I'm not out of shape, Shouta-kun..

"I was distracted by how handsome of a man you've become." you word it in a ridiculing tone but there isn't an inch of your statement that isn't true, "Oh, the jawline, the super pull-able hair and the muscles."

Aizawa rolls his eyes.

"And the eye rolls." this comes out a lot softer and warmer. You've missed his eye rolls for so long now.

"Uh-huh?" Aizawa takes half his pile of papers and gives them to you to check promising lunch if you help him with it, "What, has being single for so long started getting to you?"

An amused giggle leaves your lips, you cuddle into the couch ignoring the papers completely, "People think you're such a nice, serious guy, Shouta-kun. Me and Hizashi know."

"Know what?" his eyes linger at the papers for a little, then on a cut on your ankle.

"That's you're such a dirty little boy." you lean towards him, "Being single has gotten to me? Oh no, babyboy, you've gotten to me."

He makes a face, you immediately dramatize gag at your words to not make him doubt your words to be true.

"You're disgusting." he tells you.

"You're disgusting too. What was the need to toss me around like that in front of the students?" you frown, "I've got cuts and bruises all up my legs."

His eyes rest on the little cut on your ankle again, "Why didn't you go see recovery girl?"

"Recovery grandma?" your eyebrow raises, "She's still here?"

"Oh she is." he drops his pen and leans back into the couch too. Aizawa is tired, he needs his coffee. It's already the time of the day when Hizashi comes in with a cup of coffee for him, Aizawa doesn't understand why he's late today.

"There isn't much that has changed." you hum, head turned up towards him while leaning against the couch, "It's just you and Hizashi."

"We've changed?" his head rolls to you.

"Physically." you say, "Plus Hizashi-kun said he's seeing someone so that has changed.. are you?"

"Am I seeing someone?" Aizawa's eyes blink lazily, irises focused into yours, "The only thing I'm seeing is papers." he pulls his boots off, "So many of them."

"Do you not take breaks?" your eyes focus on the bags under his, finger going up immediately to touch the skin, "I'm worried you'll get too stressed like this and— " you're cut off by him.

"What are you doing?"

You blink, "What?"

"What are you doing? Your hand is on my face, (Name)-chan." there's a pause as he pulls his head away, "That's.. weird."

Your lips tighten, "R-Right.. sorry."

"It's fine.. " tension fills into the air, "Just.. don't do it again."

"Sure.. " your head droops along with your expressions. It's odd hearing this— it could still be him messing around with you but he'd give you an indication then.

You feel dejected, as though he's throwing you off before you even tell him how much you'd wish to drown into him.

Should I.. ?

But how can you indirectly relay your feelings to him just to make sure he doesn't actually with to reject you if you ever do.

It may just be under the tag of friendship, but there is still warmth in Aizawa's eyes when he looks at you. You know to not classify this as just friendship.

"Ah.. " your hands cover your face, "Life is moving forward, no?"

"Obviously." his head rests back.

"I knew you as a young boy, Shouta-kun. You were nineteen when I had to leave." a smile slips up your face like butter, your tone is adoring, "You've become a man now."

"What else do you expect me to become?" he shifts to the side to get better view of you.

You roll your eyes, "You probably feel what I'm talking about too, right? I was just a little girl when you last saw me."

"It just so happens that you've not grown at all." he shrugs, "Not by brains, not by height," his eyes lower from your face for a fraction of a second but Aizawa happens to have the best control over himself, he doesn't let his expressions show this at all, "so, no. I can't tell."

You, on the other hand, are shameless. Mostly.

"If what you want to say is that my boobs and hips have grown, don't be shy, Shouta-kun." you wave your hand at him, "It's not like I don't notice when you stare."

He makes an odd expression again, then turns away.

"That's weird, (Name)-chan. It's not right, don't say stuff like that."

You blink, "Not right?"

He shifts uncomfortably, gaze flickering in the air before he gets up and walks away muttering something about you stepping over boundaries.

You frown, instantly getting up and following after him.

"What's weird, Shouta-kun? What boundaries am I stepping? Let me know at least."

He doesn't stop, neither does he reply. When you don't stop following him, Aizawa just walks into the men's bathroom.

"Bitch." you cuss under your breath, eyes getting glassier for some reason. It's odd to see such behaviour from his side.

It's already been some time since the both of you have been spending breaks together, it's a coincidentally convenient schedule.

Every single time, however, there is either one or another moment where something odd crosses over Aizawa and he wouldn't talk to you anymore.

You hate it when he does this.

You hate him not talking to you and treating you like you're just any friend.

"Oh, (L/n)-san?" Toshinori Yagi steps out of the bathroom, "How come you're standing in front of the men's bathroom?" he chuckles, "Am I getting fangirling for going to the bathroom this time?"

"O-Oh.. nevermind." you're not in right headspace to pay heed to what he has just said, "Wait.. actually, please just drag Shouta-san out, sir."

He blinks, "What?"

There's only one way to end the whirlpool of anxiety in your guts.

"Just.. please drag him out of the bathroom. He's only waiting for me to leave, I'm sure."

All Might blinks but doesn't say anything as he turns and reenters the space restricted from you.

Luckily, he manages to succeed. A tired looking Aizawa steps out and sighs, "What?"

Your eyebrows twitch in annoyance, "What do you mean what, Shouta-kun? You— come with me." you grab his arm and drag him away into the pantry of the teachers' lounge.

"What do you want, (Name)-chan?" he wouldn't look at you now.

"I want to tell you you're a bitch." you huff, "A-And.. " your lips press tight, "I.. w-want to tell you.. "

"Hurry up, I have papers to check." he's clearly looking for excuses to avoid you but you don't intend to let him get his way.

"Shouta-kun.. I.. " it's so much harder than you thought it would be, you feel like crying.

Oh fuck, just let it out.

"I just.. I've always.. " a shaky breath leaves your lips, eyes closing to avoid your eyes from popping out with how fast your heart beats, "I love you."

Absolute silence follows.

When you can't take it anymore, you shoot your eyes open only to find a look of conflict and frustration on Aizawa's face. It's spontaneous– something stops in your chest and a loud ringing fills your ears.

"You.. shouldn't have said that." Aizawa's words are the only that make way to your ears though the buzz, "That's not good. It's– we're not doing this, (Name)-chan. You.. shouldn't be doing this."

Your lips shut tight, throat too dried up to speak all of a sudden.

Aizawa inhales, his face turning away and voice low and heavy, "I don't feel the same, (Name)-chan. It's concerning you feel this way.. it's hilarious of an idea in the first place."

His words act as daggers stabbing your heart.

"And.. I don't think.. I mean, of course you know I wouldn't fall for a person like you even in my nightmares." a hollow, dry chuckle escapes his lips before his head drops to the floor with his lips pressed in a thin line.

The worse they can say is no?

A voice inside you laughs at your stupid self.

" ..Right.. " your voice barely makes it out. The tear rolling down your cheek beats it, " ..Uhm.. I-I'm just gonna go.. " your feet drag you away silently.

It's hard to walk through the teachers' lounge without breathing at all. The moment you've stepped out into the empty hallways, a deep, broken exhale brings down streams of tears.

Your legs beg to give out, chest throbbing painfully making ripples of stress travel throughout your body.

Somewhere to your side, Yamada's voice calls out to you. The next moment you know, you're running out of the school building towards the teachers' dorms.

"How long is he going to take today?" Shinsou's feet tap against the ground, "Sensei's here around this timegenerally."

Yamada hums, his gaze focused on the ground, "You know.. I think there might be some connection to (Name)-chan and Shouta-kun's spoilt mood recently."

Shinsou blinks, "I'm not going to act like you saying that should mean anything other than them being on bad romantic terms considering there is no other sensible interpretation to your words."

The hero nods, "Yup."

"What?"

"A few days ago, I saw her running away after crying outside the teachers' lounge. I chased after her and talked but she didn't say much. Shouta-kun was gloomy that day."

"What did he say?" Shinsou throws his mask to the side and hurries to sit in front of Yamada, "You did try to talk to him, right?"

Yamada shrugs, "He wouldn't talk. Quietly walked away. He hasn't been talking much to anyone since then."

"He wouldn't even say much in class." Shinsou's head falls to his lap, "What do you think could have happened?"

Yamada turns to the side, "I know them enough to say this, I'm sure either one confessed or proposed and the other said no."

"But Aizawa sensei– (L/n)-sensei was crying, you say?"

"Yeah." the man sighs, "Two of my best friends getting off with each other. What am I supposed to do?" the both of them share looks for a moment.

Shinsou nods, catching the signal Yamada has been trying to give him all this while, "You're right, what are you supposed to do?"

It takes a couple of days to set everything up but he manages to "coincidentally" make Aizawa and you end up together for dinner with Yamada.

Neither of the two of you are happy with this, it doesn't take a genius to figure that out.

"Sit, you both." Yamada knows you both are hiding whatever happened from him so wouldn't refuse now that you both are already only so he wouldn't know.

"So you planned dinner?" your voice lacks any emotion at all, it is hollow and low, and is addressed only to Yamada as if sarcastically commenting on his decision.

"I did." he smiles, "Hope the both of you don't mind. I realised we need to have a talk over something."

Neither you nor Aizawa look up. Over a week of avoiding him does nothing at all to ease the pain, and you don't wish to increase the weight in your chest by catching sight of his unaffected expressions.

Yamada doesn't speak up for some time, he allows the tension in the air settle to the ground until there is more of pain, guilt and longing at the table than suffocation.

"We met first in the sports festival of the first year." he begins once the waitress has left. He's hesitant to bring this up but there's no other way, "Shirakumo-kun was against (Name)-chan. She lost but was introduced into class A and shifted from class B."

"Yeah.. w-we know the story.. " you look to the side, eyes glassy and fingers fiddling with each other.

Clearly, you're not in the mood to get nostalgic.

"It was funny to see you fall for Shouta-kun while Shirakumo-kun flirted with you all day long." Yamada lets out a chuckle as Aizawa's head snaps up at you.

You, on the other hand, widen your eyes at him in shock– you'd never expected him to bring this topic up. It feels like betrayal.

Yamada inhales, then exhales deep, "Shirakumo-kun had a crush on you, you know."

"What?"

"Yeah.. " he gives you a small smile, "He did, but he noticed your feelings for Shouta-kun and then his behaviour changed. You remember when– "

___________ May, Second year at U.A. High ___________

"Hey Shouta," Shirakumo says, "It's just ice cream. Stop licking it as if it's Yamada's popsickle."

You begin giggling, drawing attention to yourself. Aizawa feels his lips twitch into a small smile, he loves it when you laugh though this isn't something he wishes you find amusing.

He composes himself immediately and turns to Shirakumo with a frown, "Don't open your dirty mouth like that in front of a girl at least. Have some shame, Shiro." but he is ignored.

"(Name)! (Name)!" Shirakumo is busy coming up with more nonsense, "Okay, I got an idea." the rest of you turn to him, while still licking all your ice creams.

"How about you give us some advice?"

"What sort of advice?" you ask and he smirks.

"We're all poor little dreaming boys who all definitely have some or the other crush on some or the other cute friends of ours, don't we, Shouta-kun?" the boy in questions freezes, "Why don't you rate us.. or give us an overview from a girls' angle? If we're in luck, it might help some oblivious idiot see through".

"That's random." you hum, "But," there is a pause, "I'll say.. Hizashi-kun is bright, awlways optimistic and loud one. You're gonna be probably.. well, charismatic, energetic and you know what, there's some girls in our class who call you husband material."

"They do?" Shirakumo is pleased, "Did you hear that, guys?"

"Go on, bitch some more about your friends, (Name)-chan." Aizawa rolls his eyes at Shirakumo's smug expression, "You're snitching on them."

"Sometimes you should take that stick up your ass out and try some fingers." you close your eyes and give Aizawa a firm nod. Shirakumo and Yamada burst out laughing.

"What about Shouta-kun, though?" Shirakumo elbows the boy and turns back to you when his laughs dies down to chuckles.

You hum, "To me, he's like.. the definition of manliness. If testosterone is something, it's him. You know what, it's not my choice at all– Shouta-kun in general looks like a sexy tsundere guy who the girl would call daddy or something, you get what I mean?"

"Boy boy, someone's all red." Shirakumo laughs at Aizawa who just grunts and looks away. You don't have the confidence to look towards his face after all you've said either.

"He'll get lots of options for wives.. only if he didn't doze of mid-wedding." you crack the OG joke and everyone other that Aizawa snorts.

"Ay, don't be too rough with him (Name)-chan." Shirakumo exaggerates scolding you, "Our sweet sugar daddy is blushing. He might just burst if you keep this up."

Aizawa turns to him instantly and mutters a "what the fuck?" under his breath.

But Shirakumo isn't the only cheeky bitch in the group.

"Come on, sweet daddy.. " you exaggerate a coo, "Don't get mad. I'm scared you'll be too rough." and as you do, you realise Shirakumo isn't lying when he says Aizawa might burst.

His ears are steaming, cheeks blood red already. You doubt he'd be able to take another tease.

"Little kitten's blushing." Shirakumo laughs, "If I were gay, I'd be totally into him. It's too sad I'm not a single girl among us four who can crush on him."

Shirakumo gets a glare from you, you're thankful Aizawa hasn't heard him well.

___________ - ___________

"Why would you suddenly bring that up today?" Aizawa understand your behaviour from back then now only now that he has been confessed to, "Things of the past should stay in the past."

"Misunderstandings of the past should stay in the past too." Yamada looks up, "Shirakumo realised (Name)-chan's interest in you too early on. He liked it, actually. He always thought you were perfect for her and the other way around."

Aizawa's expressions drop to zero at the revelation.

"Actually.. " Yamada clears his throat, "He'd always known you push your feelings for (Name)-chan down because of his crush on her."

Your head snaps up at what you've heard.

..Shouta-kun had feelings for me back then.. ?

"He'd been trying to set the both of you up for over an year already before he.. died." silence spreads at the table, "You don't need to reject your feelings for (Name)-chan anymore, Shouta-kun."

Aizawa stares hard at the table, you look between him and Yamada. Nothing seems to set properly in your brain, you don't know what's going on.

"You don't need to reject her in loyalty to our dead friend. He didn't die loving her, he died hoping the both of you would give each other a chance.. "

Aizawa doesn't know what to say, his lips part to speak but no voice leaves.

"She's not his, dude. Don't label her like that.. just.. free yourself from this burden. Shirakumo-kun didn't die loving her."

Silence prevails at the table for far too long. Yamada looks uncomfortable with this silence. He keeps on looking between your and Aizawa's fallen faces.

"Why didn't you ever tell me?" Aizawa's voice is so low it barely feels the words have left his mouth.

Yamada sighs, "I thought you knew.. " he waits for a little more time before getting up with an "enjoy dinner, you two. Talk it out." and leaves.

Neither you not Aizawa says anything for even longer– you're losing your patience now. Tears build up in your eyes.

You do understand that he needs time to digest the revelation as much as you do but the past week of heartache has barely left anything for you to stay silent with.

The only desire you have is to know how he feels about you now. That, but you don't know how you'll ever talk to him again after all he has said.

Aizawa looks up a moment later, his eyes unusually and surprisingly glassy, "I'm sorry.. " he begins, " ..for everything."

And though you did not think this could ease any of your pain, you find yourself crying into your hands a moment later. This time, he's there to calm you.

291 notes · View notes

moonydustx · 7 months ago

Note

how they would react to F!Reader saying she's pregnant but with Shanks, Rayleigh and Law?

Oi oi! Turu bem? Vou deixar até o comecinho da resposta em português porque sim hahahahah primeiro, obrigada pelo pedido e segundo, eu acho que me empolguei escrevendo de novo, sou inimiga do resumo. O do Ray acho que pode ter ficado um pouco confuso porque tentei usar as duas eras (como pode ele ser tãão saborosíssimo toda vez que aparece, af). Mas é isso, obrigadão e espero que goste <3

And here’s the translation of the day: Hey Hey! How are you? I'll even leave the beginning of the answer in portuguese because yes hahahahah (for those who don't understand PT-BR, I discovered that the requester is brazilian like me) firstly, thank you for the request and secondly, I think I got carried away writing again. I think Ray's might have been a little confusing because I tried to use both eras (how can he be so delicious every time he appears, haha). But that's it, thank you and I hope you like it <3

Oh, and hello @badlandsx! I'm tagging you here because I saw your request about Law, but don't worry, I'll soon write the other part that you also requested. Thank you <3

requests open | one piece masterlist (other pregnancy stories are here)

Warnings are place individually in each story.

Rayleigh

Warnings: mentions of new and old Ray, like I said I love them both. Buggy and Shanks kids are one of my favorite things about Roger's era, so we have them here. Mention to F!Reader being an herbalist. Brief not-so-canonical mention of Sabaody's arc.

Acid temperament, answers on the tip of the tongue, a captivating smile. Rayleigh didn't have much of an option but to fall in love at first sight when you two bumped into each other in a random bar on a random island. It didn't matter anymore when he managed to convince you to be part of the crew. Your knowledge of herbs and medicines was just an excuse he used to get the captain to accept - and Roger knew Silvers Rayleigh enough to know it was just a pretext for you to get on board.

It didn't take long for the glances exchanged and toasts proposed to turn into hidden moments at Oro Jackson, kisses stolen when others weren't looking, that turned into a golden ring around your finger. Now, such moments had turned into a new life being generated in you.

"You should stay less agitated for now, please." Crocus asked. You had come up with a lame excuse for him to stay on the ship with you while the others had disembarked. "By my reckoning, these are still the first few months, it's the most sensitive period. Any more aggressive activity can bring risks."

"You will die?" Buggy's squeaky voice caught the two of you's attention. When you found the spot where the boy was hiding, you saw Shanks cover his companion's mouth.

"Nothing like that, come here." you leaned on the counter, calling out to the two who soon stopped in front of you. "How much of our conversation did you hear?"

"That you don't really know what to do, and that you need to be less agitated and that you're sensitive." Shanks took the lead, listing, Buggy came further behind, eyes attentive to your every movement.

The two boys already saw you almost as a motherly figure, always trying to hide and lean on you whenever they got into trouble, of course they would be scared to hear such loose information.

"I'll trust you two, but I want you both to keep your mouth shut." you bent down to his level. "I'm pregnant, but it's too early for anyone to know, okay?"

"Pregnant?" they both screamed and you covered their mouths. Further behind you, Crocus was deliberately laughing at the two boys' reactions. "Does that mean it's the baby that's hurting you?" Buggy completed.

"No one was hurt." the doctor took the lead, explaining to both of them. "A pregnant woman requires more care and is also more sensitive. Well, you knowing this can be of great help."

"What do you mean by that?" Just like you, the boys seemed to have doubt written all over their faces.

"Someone here loves to get into trouble, until Rayleigh finds out and can keep an eye on you, you two are responsible for it. No fights, no crazy adventures, no almost anything." the man laughed when he saw your indignant expression.

"I promise to keep her and the baby safe." Shanks puffed out his chest, taking pride in what he had said.

"What? I promise more than him." Buggy grumbled.

"As long as you both promise to keep quiet, that's fine with me."

When the two youngest saluted, you knew you were screwed.

It was difficult to disguise such a situation when in the following days the two of them became your shadow. The only time you could see yourself alone was going to the bathroom. If you went to your little corner to work, one of the two would be sitting next to you, following everything you explained to them - since they were there, they would learn something. In day-to-day tasks, one of them always set out to do his part. Rayleigh was already finding their little movement strange, but he knew how attached you were to both of them, so it wasn't something that bothered him.

"I'm going to take advantage of the fact that it's our last day here and I'm going to go down to the village, I need to get some materials." you announced. "Does anyone need anything?"

"Everything's fine here." Gaban warned and one by one, the other companions agreed.

"Wait!" a panting Buggy ran across the boat. "I'll go with you."

"Get out you fool, I'll go." Shanks shouted from the other side.

"Come on, the three of you, what do you think?" you suggested, before his little fight escalated.

"You two don't think you're stealing much of my wife's attention, do you?" Rayleigh proposed, seeing the two swallow hard and deny it. "Alright, enjoy the little walk."

It was supposed to be a quick visit to the island, if the boys didn't decide to start trouble with one of the sellers, you got in the middle and now you were lying on your ass on the floor - in the pushing and shoving, there ended up being a push for you while arguing with the seller . Before you could calm the boys down, you saw them running towards the ship, shit.

Rayleigh's attention was stolen when he saw the two crew members rushing into the Oro Jackson. Buggy burst into tears and insults directed at his friend, while Shanks seemed to be looking for someone specific. You, however, were not with them. It didn't take much to connect the facts.

"Where is she?" He approached the kids, completely ignoring them. "What happened?"

"A tragedy." Buggy, dramatically, started crying even more.

"You idiot! We can't tell them anything." Shanks poked Buggy, who immediately retaliated with a push.

"Crocus said we should keep an eye on her and now she's fallen and is going to die!"

"She fell?" Rayleigh was already impatient with their drama, unable to find any connection in their grumbling. "Explain this properly."

"It was just a fall, nothing big." the redhead tried to alleviate the situation.

"Boys, it was just a fall, she's definitely gotten herself into bigger trouble." Roger laughed, watching the two boys pushing each other.

"I don't want to know. Where's Crocus?" Buggy grumbled, ignoring the captain's own laughter and his friend's false calm temperament.

"What kind of fall was that for you two to be so worried about?" Rayleigh held out his hands, pushing the two boys apart by their foreheads.

"This idiot went looking for a fight." Shanks tried to reach the clown, stopped by the first mate's hand.

"And this idiot who doesn't know how to keep his tongue in his mouth." Buggy fought back, only hitting the air.

"First she said we were supposed to be quiet."

"You knock down a pregnant woman and I'm the one who has to stay quiet!" The words that came out of Buggy were able to provoke silence among the other pirates. "Shit!"

"She's going to kill us man."

"Where is she?" Crocus appeared, stopping in front of the boys and an astonished Rayleigh. "How did she fall? What's all that crying, Buggy?"

"Is she the pregnant woman?" Rayleigh asked in a much calmer tone than usual.

The hands were now no longer used to separate the boys, they just hung beside his body. Seeing the two kids swallow hard and look at each other, Rayleigh no longer needed any more answers.

"Rayleigh, Crocus go to her, now." Even with Roger's orders, Rayleigh was already heading in the direction of leaving the boat, not worrying about who would follow him.

Upon entering the village, it didn't take many steps for them to find you - only then did Rayleigh notice the doctor's presence. What was strange was finding you still lying on the floor, your elbows propped up to keep your face up while you were still arguing with the man in front of you. You didn't look hurt, you just looked mad at the man.

"It was just some herbs!" you shouted, excited.

"You idiot! If it was just some herbs, you should pay." the man shouted back.

Before you could respond, a body appeared in front of you and you didn't need much to recognize that it was your husband.

"What is happening?" his patient voice asked, looking at you over his shoulder. "I see that you seem to have problems with my wife."

"You see, she allowed two boys to steal herbs from my store."

"That is true?" he turned to you, finding a wry smile. Your permissiveness with the boys would still kill him. "How much does she owe you?"

The man spoke and almost as if predicting the problem, Crocus threw some coins to Rayleigh, who handed them to the man. A few seconds later, they were both around you.

"Did you get hurt?" the doctor asked, seeing your eyes dart from his to your husband's. "Buggy accidentally told him that little secret."

"Shit." your grumble was low, in a way you avoided looking at Rayleigh. "Maybe I spent my money buying some sweets for the three of us, but I needed those herbs too." you list, feeling your face burn with guilt and shame.

"Do you feel any pain?" Rayleigh asked, his voice almost forcing you to face him. Without finding words, you just denied it. "Great. Let's go back to the ship."

Crocus supported you by the waist and as soon as you stood up, you bitterly regretted having denied the question your husband had asked. The excruciating pain that shot up from your foot made you scream and fall forward, being held by Rayleigh.

"I was wrong, so wrong, what the hell." you grumbled, taking your aching foot off the ground. "It fucking hurts, it really hurts, Ray, do something." your teary eyes searched for his, who looked attentively in your direction.

"First I need you to calm down, sweetheart." he asked, wrapping his arm around you and providing even more support. "Crocus, what do we have?"

"Let me see." he bent down again, finding a swollen ankle. "It could just be a sprain or it could be broken, let's go back and that way I can see calmly."

"Go ahead, I'll take her."

The doctor took a few steps away and the two of you remained there for a few seconds, until Rayleigh took you in his arms and took you back to the ship. You knew he wanted to tell you something, but you also knew that that wasn't the appropriate place.

Before you could receive the necessary medical attention, you needed to calm both boys down. Maybe the explanation you and Crocus gave the two of them earlier had been too much for them to think that a little fight would bring you down. Rayleigh ushered them both out and closed the door behind him.

"When were you thinking of telling me?" he asked, still distant.

"To be honest, I still don't know." a light laugh escaped your lips. "They both found out by accident, hearing me talk to Crocus."

"I still can't believe those little idiots found out before me." his expression softened as he approached you.

"Are you mad at me?" His hands circled your waist, pulling you to the middle of the bed.

He gently created space for himself between your legs, taking care to place your bandaged ankle to the side. The fierce kisses this time were replaced by some caresses along your lap, some quick kisses on your lips.

"Furious?" His smile floated to your forehead, turning into a small kiss. "I just found out that the woman I love most is about to bear me a child. How can I be furious with such good news?"

His mouth once again met yours and despite the softness in which your tongues tangled, the gentle touch of his hand sliding down your side - curious fingers floating over the fabric on your belly - before your dress found a different path than your body, a small external noise caught the attention of both of you.

"Sure." Rayleigh pulled away just enough, allowing you to still feel his breath against yours. "You know it's Roger who's waiting, don't you?"

"Yeah." you laughed, seeing him groan as he let go of you.

"And that he's about to come out screaming with joy" he asked again and you nodded, trying to adjust yourself in bed and hide any evidence of what was about to happen.

Rayleigh barely opened the wooden door and Roger followed by other companions entered, a smile from ear to ear.

"A child!" He pulled you from the bed, hugging you tightly. "Another crewmate for us! This is incredible, get ready today we're going to drink, we're going to celebrate."

"Oi! She can't drink." Rayleigh pointed out and saw Roger let go of you a little and then hug you tightly again.

"Then let's eat, eat a lot. I'm going to order an incredible feast!"

If before your concern was to escape the needy and attentive claws of Buggy and Shanks, now the two boys seemed to have found company. Your other companions - being practically led by Rayleigh made you feel adorable all the time. Even with your hormones screaming at the top of your skin, even with all the strange desires and the constant need to be attached to your husband, everyone seemed to be ready and happy to see you pregnant. Rayleigh felt proud and a little overprotective of you, no wonder, since you had already returned to the boat covered in blood that didn't belong to you just because someone had tried to rob you or when you almost convinced Roger to loot a village because you wanted cakes from a bakery that was closed when you docked. You still preferred to stick to your herbs, but that didn't mean you were harmless.

Little Arthur came into the world calmly and quickly, as if everything was meticulously planned for him to arrive on that peaceful afternoon. Even though you were still uncomfortable and tired after giving birth, you couldn't contain your laughter when you saw the two youngest members of the crew fighting over who would pick up the little one first. Knowing the affection and care attached to you, you proudly allowed the two of you to carry the title of little Arth's uncles - provoking yet another argument over who was the favorite.

The bonds between you and Rayleigh became even tighter after the birth of Arth and, shortly after, little Dalia. A few years after the gang broke up and Roger was executed and on that day, you and your husband stepped back from the role of parents and allowed yourselves to cry on each other's shoulders. The tears of pain at the loss of Roger soon turned to missing your eldest son, a fruit doesn't fall far from the tree and of course, Arth never let you two tell him everything you knew, he would find a crew so that together they could find the One Piece.

The door to your house opened and you saw a familiar face enter. A mother knows very well what each child's traits could bring and when you saw an almost identical copy of Rayleigh rush through the door, you knew it was your boy back. He had finally found a crew - one that carried a straw hat familiar to the one you knew.

"What?" the voice of his companions shouted in unison as Rayleigh properly introduced the two of you.

"You mean you know everything?" Usopp turned to Arth, who just shook his head. "Oh, that's a lot of information at once."

"We never told him anything." you explained, holding your third child in your arms, a girl who had just turned four years old.

"You said your parents were pirates, but you never specified which ones." Luffy pointed out, his mouth full of food.

"My parents already had their time, now they have other priorities." Arth took little Lure from you, the girl's laugh echoed throughout the room. "Just like this little one here."

"You only have these two children?" Nami asked, interested in the difference between you and Rayleigh to the white-haired child.

"In fact, only Dalia and Arth were born to me. Ray saved our little Lure from being sold to those damn nobles. Unfortunately, we didn't have time to save her family, but we took it upon ourselves to take care of her."

"And Dalia is also a pirate?"

"Not for now, but she's on an island with some of our friends, training." you simply informed, seeing that Arth had understood the message.

That same day, you saw your son disappear before your eyes, into the hands of the tyrant Kuma. Luffy looked desolate and you followed suit, both screams echoing through the damp Sabaody forest. Only when Rayleigh managed to drag you back home did you understand that your boy would be far away, safer and according to Kuma himself, with someone you both would trust with your eyes closed.

Almost two years have passed since Rayleigh took on a mission and left you alone on the island, taking care of what was left behind.

"Father?" Lure's voice caught your attention. At the door, Rayleigh crouched down, waiting for the white-haired girl to jump towards him.

"My sweetie you are so huge!" he let the girl hang onto him, filling the top of her head with kisses. "If I took a little longer, you'd be bigger than me."

"I missed you so much." she clung to Rayleigh, who was walking towards you. "Mommy too."

"I bet she felt it too." With one of his free hands, he circled your waist, lightly kissing your lips. "I hope two of my favorite girls are okay."

"Dad, did you know that Uncle Duval asked Mom to stay with him?" The girl laughed at the little gossip told, earning a reprimanding look from you, even if it was a joke.

"Uncle Duval, hm? I'll have a little talk with him." Rayleigh placed her on the floor, yet the girl remained there beside you, paying attention to everything.

"Just a friend of the Straw Hats, we took care of Sunny while you were gone. I even tried to start the plating, but I'd rather focus on my teas." You explained, allowing yourself to hug him completely. "How are things over there?"

"By things, do you talk about our Dalia?"

"Perhaps." the passive tone in your voice became even calmer when your face was buried in his chest. "I miss my little girl."

"She promised to come soon and she's doing great, she's been one of Kikyo's right-hand men. She's so strong, you'll be proud." he felt you nod against his skin, the distance of two years seemed too far for a quick hug to satisfy. "Want to know about Arth?"

"Have you heard from him?"

"Is little brother Arth coming?" Lure clung to Rayleigh's leg, watching her father. Even without the blood connection, the black king found it comical to say the least how similar you two had become.

"Not yet, my dear. And I haven't heard from him exactly, but rather where he is." Rayleigh began to explain, meeting your curious eyes. "I only received a small note."

He took it out and handed you the small crumpled paper. The tranquility that had been missing for two years invaded you as you read each word.

I hope this reaches you and your wife, Rayleigh-san. Knowing her, I believe she is distraught over Arth's disappearance. He has been training with me and I promise that I will keep that old promise to keep him safe. No clumsy clowns this time.

Shanks.

Shanks

warnings: F!Reader and Shanks don't have a fixed relationship at the beginning of the story, F!Reader has a restaurant. Maybe wrong use of haki, brief spicier section and brief mentions of childbirth. Shanks is an adorable girl dad here. Emony, in some language that I don't remember, is a name related to treasure.

"When are you going to go to sea with me?"

That question had already been repeated countless times every day that Shanks decided to stop at your restaurant. He always made up a little excuse that his crew was hungry and that no other place in that city would be able to fulfill his orders. He repeated every time you served dishes wearing the apron he said made you look amazing, every time he convinced you to stop working for a bit and share a dish with him, every time he was on top of you. you on the bed, as you asked for more and more.

However, every time the answer was the same.

"Give me a good reason red-haired, one other than me ending up in your bed, and I will."

You had already lost track of the times he did this, that he asked and you refused, that you shared hours together and the next morning he left you to return a few months later. This time however, it was difficult to lose track of time, as with each passing day, you discovered a change in your body. It started with irritability, then the aching body, nausea and finally, the positive test on your hand and your shocked family right behind you.

The whole city already knew that you were the redhead's favorite person and at that point, no one dared to mess with you or insinuate anything. Knowing how quickly rumors could spread, you chose to keep it a secret until it became impossible. The secret only lasted four months before his jolly roger appears on the horizon. Already knowing the routine he used to have on the island, you prepared yourself to soon find him entering the door.

"Finally, my favorite cook." his voice hit you before you even saw him. "Long time no see you."

"Yeah, it's been a while." out of habit, you allowed his hand to hug your waist, but you tried not to tighten yourself too much in his embrace.

"Everything is fine?" he asked, noticing your more distant behavior.

"Yeah, it's just been a busy day. What can I get you guys?"

"What's good on the menu today?" Lucky Roux asked, his typical piece of meat at hand had already reached its end.

"A fish stew, we also have some pies. Did you bring any new recipes for me?" You reached out to him.

Since the first time you met the red-haired pirates, you and him had gotten along well and the little deal was that he would always bring new recipes and in return, he was the only one who didn't pay at your family's restaurant.

"Spicy noodles and oysters with honey." he stretched out the two papers in his hand. "Two recipes, two dishes."

"Okay, you win. Anyone else want some stew?" the men piled in, affirming yes. Before you could leave, you felt Shanks' hand grab yours.

"Wait a second." a chill passed through your body as his eyes analyzed you. "You look different, I don't know. It's like you're even more beautiful."

"Don't give me those cheap lines, redhead." you warned in your playful tone. "A stew for you too?"

"The day I deny this could rip my other arm off."

Like the other times they appeared there, Shanks and the others stayed almost the entire day. Much of the food at that point had already been replaced by drinks, which forced you to practically dodge the glasses that were offered to you.

The restaurant was already empty, even your brothers who used to help you had already left, leaving you alone with the leftover dishes and tables to organize for the next day.

"It doesn't seem very gentlemanly to me to leave a lady alone." Again, just like that afternoon, you saw Shanks enter the door, ignoring the "closed" sign.

"You don't need to worry about me, I'll sort it out in a few minutes." You gave your best smile, seeing that he wasn't convinced.

"Then I can help you solve something else."

Not giving you much room to deny it or to at least try to address the issue that was hovering between the two of you, Shanks revoked his right over your mouth. Amidst the scattered tables and trying to turn off the light in the room so as not to attract so much attention, you went unnoticed by his hands taking off your apron and immediately undoing the buttons on your t-shirt. When the piece became a small puddle of fabric on the floor next to your apron and Shanks slid his hand down your torso, you realized that he had indeed noticed.

"What is that?" his voice was low, even though there were just the two of you there.

"I think you're smarter than that, redhead." you tried to alleviate the situation, seeing that it had been in vain.

"It's mine?" His eyes met yours, his serious expression made chills run up your body. Shanks was adorable, one of the kindest people you'd ever served at your restaurant, but he was still a pirate. "Hey, look at me, is it mine?"

"What do you think?" you responded immediately, seeing him take a few steps back. "I found out a few weeks after you left here last time, so far it's been easy to hide with dresses and aprons, but it looks like it won't last long."

"So it's mine?" he insisted, making you huff in frustration.

"The last time you came here, I remember you making me scream a few times that I was yours. I am a woman of my word, there is no one else who is the father of this baby but you."

His expression soon contorted from something serious to a slight smile that turned into a loud laugh. His hand found your face, stroking it with some delicacy.

"You told me you needed a good reason to leave with me." he started, seeing you already look disbelieved. "And no, I don't want you just in my bed. I want you by my side, forever. I want you to leave with me so I can make you my wife. To make you the mother of all my children." his hand reached down and caressed the bump on your belly. "This explains so much."

"So much, tomato head?" You let your hand rest on top of his, enjoying the affection.

"Your bad mood when you saw my face or you refusing to drink with me." He approached, pressing his face to yours. "You look even more beautiful than the last time I saw you."

"Shanks…"

"Please say yes."

He used that entire night to convince you to go on board with him and the next morning to help you pack your bags and head to his ship. When the other companions saw your face, they were in disbelief for a while until the true reason for your presence was explained, to everyone's delight.

For a moment, it was too much information for your head, learning a little about the life of a pirate, understanding what Shanks was like as a captain and the changes in your body seemed too much for you. It wasn't surprising that you had practically hijacked the ship's kitchen all to yourself and it was very common to find you in the early hours of the morning, up to something.

"What's the recipe for today, mummy?" Shanks appeared, his face still crumpled indicating that he had just woken up from a good sleep.

"A cake, that's all." you just responded, feeling him press himself behind you and slide his hand over your big eight-month-old belly.

"And what's the name of the cake?" He leaned over your shoulder, still caressing you. "Is it "I'm worried about my baby's future." or "The baby woke me up by kicking me in the ribs"?

"How do you know that?" you laughed, taking some of the still raw dough for him to taste.

"Delicious." he muttered before he could follow up on any thoughts. "Daddy's Haki. I always know what's going on with my baby."

"Oh, of course." you laughed and immediately felt the same pain that had gotten you out of bed a few hours ago and had been recurring in the last few moments. You knew what it was, you just wanted to enjoy the time you still had with your baby inside.

"Honey?" Shanks asked as he saw you lean your body against his and groan in pain. "My love, what is it?"

"Didn't daddy's haki help you this time?" you tried to laugh but the pain hit you again. Before you could continue your sequence of laments, you felt your dress and as a result of the proximity, Shanks got wet.

"No, it didn't help, it's happening now, isn't it? Hongo!" he started screaming, trying to pick you up.

"Shanks, what if…" your eyes moistened with anxiety and accumulated tears. "What if I'm a terrible mother? What if nothing works? What if I can't bring our baby into the world?"

"There's no what if." he pointed out, gently pulling your chin. "Look at me, we're going to bring our first child into the world and everything will be fine. Come on, it's time to meet our baby."

Emony was born after long hours of labor. The small tuft of red hair was identical to Shanks's and her cry was celebrated by the entire ship who had woken up with your screams of pain and with Shanks running back and forth behind Hongo.

The girl was a little copy of her father, from her red hair to her attitude, which made you constantly laugh - after all, at the age of five she had already declared that she was going after One Piece alone when you two gave her a little scolding for her coming out of hiding during a fight you were involved in. You should also anticipate that the girl's strength would be derived from her father and not hers. A break on an island meant having the two of you spotted by enemy pirates while you were taking a walk with little Emony. After trying to escape and fight, you both ended up surrendering, you were on your knees, a gun against your head and little Emony was lifted by the collar of her dress.

"My daddy is going to finish you off, your shit" she declared, trying to kick the man, completely in vain.

"Will he really do that?" the man teased her, seeing the girl become even more nervous. "I'll be waiting for."

"You know this is his territory, what do you want on this island?" you asked and felt the gun being pressed even more against your head.

"Take it away from my mommy!!" Emony screamed and you felt something different in the air.

The man who was pointing the gun at you fell, fainted, as did the other men who accompanied the pirate. Their captain let out a loud laugh, pressing his hand even tighter against Emony's dress.

"Haki? At such a young age?"

"Mommy!" the girl jolted towards you, seeing you get up and walk towards her.

"I suggest you take your rotten hands off my daughter." Shanks' voice came from behind the man.

By dodging a little, you can see the crew approaching. Benn was already pointing a gun, almost glued to the head of the tyrant who had his hands on your little Emony.

"This here?" he shook the girl dismissively, turning to face Shanks. "You know, lately the navy has been investing a lot of money in Yonko's children." the man threatened, a stupid smile adorning his lips. "What's your offer for the brat?"

"Lucky, Yassop?" Shanks just signed. "You guys take my girls inside."

Without waiting for the man to respond, the redhead punched him in the face and before Emony could reach the ground, Lucky caught her. The two of you were taken inside a small store, where some vendors offered water and a place to calm down.

"Where are my girls?" Shanks' voice reached the two of you, but your daughter ran to him, hugging her father's legs, who picked her up. "Are you hurt, my little one?"

"No daddy." she smiled, victoriously. "You see, I'm ready to be a pirate." the joy in her voice brought some peace of mind to both of you.

"I thought you were already a pirate." Benn, who accompanied Shanks, commented and got the girl's response by sticking her tongue out at him.

"I'm going to be the greatest pirate! Just like dad." she replied, shaking herself off Shanks' lap. "Come on Uncle Benn, I bet I beat you."

"Bet? Let's see." The first mate let the girl hit him a few times, laughing at her effort.

"And you, love, were you hurt?" Shanks stood next to you, holding your shaking hand.

"I just got scared. Shanks, she…"

"I felt it. That's how I knew she was in danger." he replied before the question even left your thoughts. "She's barely trained and can already do this? She's really going to be a great pirate."

"Babe…" your warning tone made it clear that this was not the time for him to encourage such ideas.

"Imagine, she's a captain? Our daughter has a big future. In fact, we know who she takes after." the man boasted, earning a shove in response. "I think she needs companions."

"She can arrange it over time."

"Or we can help." the mischievous tone was already almost inert to the way he spoke to you. "Just a few more babies, a first mate, a cook." He started to list, seeing you deny it. "But you look so beautiful pregnant."

"Forget it Shanks."

"Daddy, mummy!" Emony's voice drew you both in. You watched the girl pose as victorious, on top of a Benn Beckman, Lucky, Yasopp and Limejuice piled on the floor, pretending to be defeated. "I won!"

"Now I challenge you, my little fire hair." Shanks joined in the game, going over to the girl.

Maybe some brothers for Emony would be nice - and maybe Shanks would have given you a good reason to accompany him every time you saw him love your little daughter.

Law

Part 2 here

warnings: angst, more angst, arguments with a fluff and happy ending. I mean, do I really need to inform you that our boy is going to freak out about the possibility of amber lead in his baby? Perhaps not very common uses of his DF, Law freaks out for a while, but then becomes the best dad in the world (we saw so little of Law with Lammy, but I bet he was an amazing brother and that he would be such a great girl's dad). And of course, Rosi comes from Rosinante. This text here is huge, sorry.

Being subordinate and companion to a captain who happened to be a doctor was one of the most practical things in your life. Did you catch the flu? He would solve it. Were you injured in battle? Just call the captain.

This meant not having any problems, especially after you decided to start dating. Law became even more attentive to every detail of your health, which made you realize that you didn't have much time to deal with the situation in your hands - more precisely, the situation in your womb.

The tests remained hidden in Ikkaku's drawer, with her being his only confidant at that moment. You wanted to know how many months it was, to be able to share such news, but you knew that as soon as Law found out, he would freak out and that's why you were avoiding him.

Avoiding, in the past verb, after all, he had already noticed something wrong between the two of you. Two knocks on your bedroom door startled you and your roommate.

"Hey." he looked dejected when the door opened, his attention automatically turned to Ikkaku. "Mind leaving us alone for a few minutes?"

"Of course captain." a pious look came from her towards you, before the woman disappeared from your field of vision.

Law, not knowing what to say, sat next to you. As you tried to grab his hand, you felt him move away. Damn it.

"How long have you known?" his cold tone dictated that he was probably not happy at all with the news.

"How do you know?" you answered his question with another, trying to buy time before the approaching storm.

"Today marks two months since you haven't asked me for help with any colic or complained about being sinking in a red river." he laughed, even though he didn't look happy. "By my reckoning, it's also been two months since that day in the kitchen."

Of course, the day in the kitchen. You and Law were always careful, even if you already used your contraceptive method, you preferred to use other types of protection. Except when you arrived at Polar Tang drunk and alone, which resulted in a unprotected sex session on the shared kitchen table.

"Quite a recipe we made." You tried to make fun of him.

"What do we do?" For the first time at that moment, you saw Law's eyes actually find you, worried and afraid.

"What do we do?" you repeated. "I'm pregnant Law, I don't know if there's much to do other than wait for the baby to be born."

"You know what worries me." his harsh response cut through any kind of excitement you held back. "You know very well what will happen to this child."

"What can happen." you corrected him.

"Would you rather risk waiting the nine months, giving birth and seeing your child die some time later? Sounds like a great idea to me." Cynicism echoed in his words just as your two voices were already much louder, taking your hatred to levels you didn't yet know.

"Would you rather I have an abortion and then spend the rest of my life wondering what if my baby had been born healthy?" his silence was the answer you needed at that moment. "You know what? Leave me on the next island, I'd rather take a risk and have my baby happy than have to abort it or even worse, my baby has to live with a parent who hates its existence."

"You don't understand what this could entail." He stood up too, trying to put something that looked like sense into your head. "You stay here until this is resolved."

"This has already been resolved and you don't need to have any involvement in my baby's life." you were sure the entire submarine was already listening to that argument between the two of you. "Get out of here, Law."

"But…"

"Get out of here!" you screamed even louder, seeing the man give up and leave. It only took a few seconds for Ikkaku to appear and allow you to cry for hours on her shoulder.

Anyone looking from the outside could see that you two were in pain. Law had become a shadow of the captain he was, only having small appearances to issue orders or to follow you - even without saying many words - every time you approached an island, fearing that you would leave the crew. Even though the two of you didn't talk anymore, you knew that his disappearance was related to studying everything he could about the disease that ravaged his country and was also present in him.

In the two months that had passed, Law had stopped being your boyfriend and practically become your doctor. Without exchanging many words, you only met when he decided to do some examination on you. To break the mood, you always took one of your friends along. The little information you had about Law came from Bepo, Shachi or Penguin, the only ones who were still able to invade his room and talk to him. Like that afternoon, when they insisted that you convince him to leave the room and have dinner with all his companions.

"Law?" two knocks on the door accompanied your voice. His tired look hit you immediately.

"How can I help you?"

"I wanted you to come have dinner with us." you tried to appeal to what you want. Many times, before pregnancy, that had worked.

"I am a little busy."

"I can bring something here." You suggested, approaching him. On the table, you saw accumulated papers, the vast majority of which titles were not related to Amber Lead.

"No need to worry, I'm fine." he simply replied, seeing that you were reading the papers on his desk. "I found some new studies."

"Law, I told you that you don't need to worry about that right now, we don't know yet…"

"When would you rather I worry?" the cynicism was once again there in his voice and he knew how much you hated it. "When you die on the table because for some reason this shit got to you? Or when I watch our baby die?"

"Now is he our baby?" you used the same resource as him. "From what I remember, I had made it very clear that I didn't want you to be involved in this."

"But it's my obligation."

"Your obligation as a father? I think you lost that right when you made it very clear that I had to take my baby away." you started to walk away from his desk. "Or your obligation as captain? As a boyfriend that isn't, I don't know what it's like to have a boyfriend for a good few months."

"I was busy, trying to find a cure for you two."

"We're both not sick." you sounded offended by what he had proposed. "But keep it up, sink into your books, don't worry when I disappear from this fucking submarine."

You left slamming the door, stressed. The looks that reached you seemed full of pity and concern. You only managed to get as far as the kitchen before a pang hit your head and stomach. Being supported by your colleagues, the only request you made was that no one tell Law about it. You wouldn't give him reason in his incessant search for something he didn't yet know.

Alleviating your worries, the diagnosis arrived quickly: just a spike in high blood pressure. A few hours of rest and an IV should do the trick. When you saw Bepo murmur an apology, you knew exactly what he was going to do and so did your friends, as little by little they left you alone. You remained turned away, even though you heard the door open. Something in the air had changed, it was as if you immediately felt more tense and prepared for another argument.

"Babe, can we talk?" Law's voice sounded much lower than normal, definitely attracting your attention. His affectionate way of calling you was an easy way to make you fall for his words. You turned around, facing him and started to adjust yourself to sit on the stretcher. "No, please, stay still there."

"I'm just going to sit down." You did so, your movement being followed to the millimeter by his eyes. "Just to be clear, I don't want to fight."

"I didn't come here for that reason." he approached, hesitating with every step he took. "Actually, I know you didn't want me to come here for any reason."

"I just don't want to have to hear from my doctor that I'd better have given up on the idea." you turned around, allowing your legs to dangle. "I understand your concerns Law and I would be lying if I said I haven't been terrified of the idea since I saw the first positive test."

"I know." He finally stopped a short distance away, but he still didn't touch you. "I… I-I, damn, why is it so hard?"

"Just let the words come, don't think about them." you suggested, figuring it was just pride keeping you from apologizing for all the previous argument.

"I-I feel like shit." a sigh came out along with the words. "You're right, as a boyfriend I've been terrible, as a doctor then, just look at the fact that you're in a hospital bed and the last person to be informed is me." his fists clenched and then loosened, his tattooed hands rubbed against his face, perhaps in an attempt to get the words out of him.

"Law?" your heart broke when you heard a sniffle come from him, it was the last gesture you expected after everything, it was difficult to connect the information like this.

"I can't lose you and I know it doesn't seem like it, I know I've been a terrible person, but I love this child. I can't lose this too." For the first time after so long together, you saw tears run down your loved one's face. His hands stuck to his hat, pulling in a failed attempt to hide his face. "I can't stop regretting saying that to you, what if our baby hates me for it? What if our baby knows that for a moment, even a small moment, I didn't want him or her to exist."

"My love?" You extended your hand, being accepted by him. Law fit between your legs and buried his face in your neck, even with the muffled sound, you only heard his murmurs and sobs.

"I'm sorry, please. For yelling and being an idiot." he asked, still not letting go of you. "I just can't deal with the thought of losing either of you."

"My dear, look at me." his irises remained almost hidden by the tears that accumulated at his waterline. Your hands dried his face and you didn't know how you weren't crying together. "We still don't know if our child will have amber lead disease, we don't know the scope of your fruit in the cure."

"What should we do in the meantime?"

"As I told you, wait. Make the best of this little time we have until the baby is born." you suggested while your hands traced caresses on his face. "And I just want, I need, my boyfriend back. I don't know how far I can go without you by my side."

"I promise to get better, I promise to take care of you." he replied, taking a deep breath and composing himself. With his hands rubbing his face, Law looked much more centered. "What happened today? When Bepo called me, he just told me it was a blood pressure problem and that you were resting."

"I said I want my boyfriend." you insisted with a smile on your face and saw a small ghost of what would be a smile on Law too.

Law first checked the serum that was being applied to you and then took off the hat he was wearing, placing it on your hair. With his face millimeters away from yours, he placed a quick kiss on your lips, followed by one more and another, until finally you gave way to him. The skin of his face was still damp against your face and your fingers caressed his scalp, the gesture he loved so much and god, how he had missed it. When Law pulled away, you almost pulled him back. Two months were too long apart - even under the same roof.

"I missed you so much." You confessed, not wanting to let go of his hand.

"I missed you too my love, I'm sorry for being such an idiot for so long." He sank against your skin again, this time stealing a few kisses along the way. "What do you think we make up for lost time?"

"That sounds interesting to me."

"No, no sex." he cut you off as soon as he saw you smile mischievously. "Room."

You were back in his room, now lying on the soft bed with gray sheets. Along with the two of you, only the serum and support tied to your skin had come. Law adjusted himself, sitting with his back against the wall and adjusting your body to be against his skin. You saw from the corner of your eye his hand go towards you and retreat, ignoring any complaint he would make, you pulled it back and placed it flat against your belly.

"I don't think you can feel it yet, but I've already started to feel some small movements. In fact, I thought I had stomach gas, until Ikkaku and I found a book explaining that it was the baby." You explained and looking over your shoulder, you could see bright gray eyes staring at you. "Right now, from what I feel, the baby is here." you slid his hand away, stopping next to your side.

"Can I tell you something?" he asked, using his other arm to hug you even tighter. You nodded and saw him smile at the likely thought that crossed his mind before the words came out. "The other day, I accidentally spied on you in your room. I think you had just gotten out of the shower and were in front of the mirror."

"Oh no Law, I don't believe it." you laughed, already knowing what day it was.

"I think you spent about fifteen minutes posing in front of the mirror, caressing our child in your womb. God, you looked so beautiful, so radiant." he allowed himself to almost melt against the wall behind him. "I'm sorry I wasted so much time, so much stuff."

"Can I tell you something too? I actually need to update you on a few things." you asked and felt his face move against your skin, nodding. "Did you know that our baby is already just like you? I can't even see a piece of bread before I'm ready to spill my stomach."

That night, the two of you spent a lot of time there. You telling him about the little news that Law had missed in the time you didn't talk and him explaining little curiosities to you, things that seemed incredible to him because they were happening in the body of the woman he loved and he didn't have the courage to tell you before.

In the fifth month - now with a new version of Law, one much more adept at the idea of being a father and much more attached to you. You were dragged by him to a small room, finding Ikkaku, Shachi and Penguin sitting at the table waiting for you.

"What is that?" You sat down in the chair that Law arranged for you, he soon took the place next to you.

"You said you didn't want me as a doctor, so if you want and you have time to think about it, they will be your doctor."

"And you?" your voice was almost cornered, trying to connect the pieces of the situation that was presented. "Aren't you going to be at the birth?"

"I'll be there all the time and any problem, I'll take care of it. But I want to be there for you, for our baby. Instead of scalpels and speculums, I just want to hold your hand." Law chuckled as he saw your little pout that you made start to tremble. "Sound like a good idea to you?"

"T-This is in-amazing." despite Law seeing you get emotional, the loudest crying came from the other side of the table.

"Man, that was beautiful." Shachi was struggling, leaning on Penguin.

"It's so good that you guys are back."

"Idiots." the woman commented, turning to you. "Come on, tell me everything you expect from the birth of our little baby."

After spending the remaining months buried in books next to him, this time looking for good information and not just a cure for an illness, you learned that the stretcher was not a good place to give birth and that sensations were an important part of the process, in other words, goodbye Ope Ope no Mi's anesthesia powers. Law seemed to want to make up for the distance by always staying close to you and always reminding you how special you were to him, like when you looked adorable when the jumpsuit stopped fitting around your belly or when you and Bepo joined in complaining about the heat.

With the help of your own nature, the chosen doctors and Law behind you in that hot tub, your girl arrived into the world quickly and much less painfully than you thought. In the first few hours, little Rosi didn't let go of you and only when the water around the bathtub became cold did Law manage to take his focus off the little baby to take you two to a more cozy place.

In the early days, Law's hands seemed tied to Rosi. When the girl with eyes as gray as her father's wasn't on his lap, Law was following you like a shadow to ensure the health of both of you. Sometimes looking sideways, you could see Law observing every inch of the girl, in a constant search for signs of the cursed disease that had once taken his family from him. He would never allow that to happen to his little girl.

The worry lasted for years and there was never a sign of the disease or any other illness. Before, if everyone at Polar Tang had a strict health care schedule, with the arrival of the girl, attention redoubled.

Rosi was like seeing a mini-version of Law walking around, especially because of the copy of his hat that he had gotten for her. All the love that Law took to give you and her, when it was just a fetus inside you, the doctor seemed to make up for it with the girl, there wasn't something she wanted or asked for that he wasn't ready to do.

Rosi seemed to love accompanying her father in laboratories and studies, this seemed to change when she was once injured in an attack, in fact Rosi lost her balance with the Polar Tang speeding into the sea and ended up getting a cut on her forehead, patched by Ikkaku since Law was busy fending off enemies. That had been enough trauma for little Rosi to not want to know more about medical things.

"Please, my sweetie, it's just a small remedy." you tried to pull the girl out of the closet.

"No, no, no." she grumbled. The little gray eyes full of water. "It's going to hurt a lot."

"It won't hurt, my love." you insisted, seeing her deny it.

"My princess?" Law bent down, reaching her height. "Come on, this is to make you okay."

"Daddy, it's going to hurt a lot, I don't want it." she grumbled even more, knowing that Law was much easier to convince.

"Doesn't your throat hurt too?" he asked and the little girl nodded. "I promise it won't hurt anymore."

"But what about the injection?"

"Daddy also promises it won't hurt at all." he reaffirmed and saw the girl come out of hiding, heading straight into his arms. "Babe, she's a little feverish." he murmured to you, almost despair forming on his face.

"Law, it's just a cold." you warned him, following him as your daughter rested against his shoulder. You knew that when it came to Rosi's health, Law was the most concerned of all.

"Daddy, it's because I was lying on the ice with Bepo." the girl confessed the information, adjusting herself to reach Law's field of vision. "I'm just a little sick, that's it." she created a small space between her fingers.

"That's great, my love." He placed the girl sitting on the stretcher. "It means it'll only take that long for you to get better." he repeated the gesture she had made with her fingers. "Ready?" he saw her deny it, laughing. "Do you want mommy to hold your hand?"

"Yes!" She reached out her little hand to you. "Mommy, what is this?"

"It's dad's way of taking care of us." You tried to sum it up the best way. Maybe she was too young to understand how akuma no mis works.

"Ready? First take a deep breath…" Law imitated, holding the air for a while and making her laugh when she saw him puffed up. "And now…" he applied the injection to her arm. He knew it hadn't hurt at all, but the girl automatically started to pout. "My little princess, what happened? Did it hurt?"

"No." she said, her voice breaking. You both had to laugh when you saw her asking you to hold her without even moving the arm that Law had given the injection to.

"My love, what do you think…" Law bent down to look into her eyes as he spoke. "We can go to the kitchen and steal…"

"Bepo!" the girl stretched her arm towards the bear that appeared in the field of vision. "I want to be with Bepo."

"With Bepo?" Law pretended to be frustrated.

"He's warm and I'm cold." you passed the girl to Bepo, who was her favorite company. Law insisted that it was because the mental age was identical, but you always laughed at the accusations while the bear grumbled.

"What do you say we read a little?" Bepo suggested, letting Rosi climb onto his shoulder.

The two of you accompanied him to the living room, giving Bepo information about the girl being feverish. It only took a few words from the bear who started reading one of her favorite stories for Rosi to fall asleep. Law carefully took his daughter from him and started walking alongside you to the girl's room.

"I can't believe she chose to go with him."

"Well, you had just given her an injection, she harbored some resentment." you joked and saw him frown. "Maybe the next one will like us more than a huge, cuddly bear."

"Next, huh?" he spoke in a low tone, not wanting to wake the girl in his arms.

"Exactly. Or have you forgotten about the ten minutes hiding in your living room when Ikkaku was having a girls' night out with Rosi?" You saw his expression light up, a smile that you hadn't seen the first time you had this kind of conversation and that was one of your favorite things in the world.

"How long, is a month half?" he tried to hold back his louder, surprised voice.

"Yes, I took the test last week." you watched him open the door and place little Rosi on the pink bed. Before you could return to the subject, you felt him take you in his arms and lift you up, filling your face with kisses.

"I love you so much, I love you both." he put you down. "To be more exact, the three of you."

823 notes · View notes