#and the hair floating on top of the water!!! not sure how well i managed it tho. was trying to make it look kinda seaweedy??

[undistortedworld]

read @evilhasnever's wonderful meryao series last week and meryao has not left my mind since, i am obsessed with him!!!! the mental image of him peeking menacingly out of the bathtub is especially important to me sdnjhfshj

bonus lil sketch under the cut :3

[supernaturalfreakout]

The Morning After (Sam Winchester x fem!reader)

Summary: You wake up after a wild night with Sam. He refuses to let you to forget how good he made you feel ...

Tags: MDNI, fluff and smut, Dom!Sam, Sub!You, BDSM, consensual kink, aftercare.

Notes: This is part of a wider fic. Reader had mental health issues. Newly-established relationship. Sam is very protective over you.

The next morning came like a declaration. The sun was out, reigning high and bright in the crisp winter sky, and for the first time in years, you felt at peace; awoke without a deep, profound longing gnawing at your bones. The absence was noticeable. So noticeable in fact, that at first, it was almost unsettling. As if a piece of yourself had gotten lost in the night, only to be replaced by a feeling so foreign it felt out of place in your body. Where once stood a well, waters dark and stagnant, now existed an ocean—vast, moving, and alive. So instead of reaching for your phone, squeezing your knees to your chest, or holding your breath to fill the void, you rolled to the side, opened your eyes, and welcomed the day with the deepest sigh of relief you could muster.

Beside you, Sam splayed. His rich brown hair fanned like shards of chocolate over your faded floral pillowcase; his lips parted softly in sleep. His body took up most of the bed, and—as you had realized in the night—had a habit of eating the sheets. You now noticed that was probably because he clenched the edges in his fists, so whenever he rolled, they rolled with him. You smiled at that—little quirks only ever revealed in the midst of intimacy. After-hour truths and early-morning peculiarities. You wondered how many more he had; whether he knew them himself; whether you would be lucky enough to discover them all, one day. It was a wistful thought. A dangerous thought. Yet today, you couldn’t quite bring yourself to deny them.

Sweeping your eyes over his features, you admired the mix of sharp masculine strength, and soft delicate beauty. You observed the rise and fall of his chest in time with his peaceful breathing, the subtle flutter of his eyes beneath his lids, and his jaw; strong, but relaxed, framed by stubble that was getting even longer by the day. You knew that Dean would probably tease him for it, but you didn’t mind. In fact, it rather suited him. And the way it felt roughing up your thighs ...

You shuffled up the bed, wincing softly as you drew your eyes from the scene. It took every fiber of your strength, but you managed. It was too early for those kinds of thoughts, wasn’t it? Plus, you were sore, the ache in your glutes and hips reminiscent of a tough session at the gym.

Next to you, on your bedside table, stood a bottle of lotion, a half-sipped glass of water, and an open packet of Advil; the only evidence of last night’s promiscuities in sight.

After your shower, Sam had diligently stripped the bed, chucking the dirty sheets in the wash along with his soiled jeans.

Your face reddened at the thought, memories of the evening before resurfacing. You hadn’t had sex like that in… well … never.

Your eyes drifted back to Sam’s sleeping form. Your body heated. A selfish thought crossed your mind.

How easy it would be, you thought. To roll on top of him and take what I want. He wouldn’t say no. You were sure of it. Hell, he’d practically sworn an oath of servitude. But no. I can’t. I shouldn’t … Poor man needs his rest.

Sam must have felt your shifting as he groaned softly, then rolled away, towards the window where the morning light was waiting behind the backdrop of the curtain. You lingered for a moment, on the brink of hesitation before delicately slipping your legs out of the sheets, careful not to make too much of an impression in the mattress.

After quickly popping your pill, you padded barefoot towards the door. You floated down the stairs and into your kitchen where you went through the motions, swallowing your vitamins before pressing some fresh coffee for the both of you. Sam liked his black—because of course he did—health nut that he is. But your preferred brew was with oat milk, and a generous helping of caramel.

Balancing the two steaming mugs, you ascended the stairs and nudged open the bedroom door. The room was still bathed in the soft light of morning, the hazy transition between sleep and waking making it feel like you were in a dream. But you were not dreaming. This was real. And way more colorful.

Sam’s back was still turned to you, but he stirred as you set the mugs down on your nightstand. He rolled onto his back, blinking his eyes open. When he saw you, a sleepy smile spread across his lips.

“Morning," you said, your voice still hushed as you slipped back under the sheets.

“Morning,” he replied, his voice deep and rough with sleep. “You’re up early.”

“Made you coffee." You nodded towards the mug. “Figured you might need it after last night.”

A low, rumbling chuckle sent a pleasant shiver down your spine. “You spoil me.” He kissed your forehead as he reached over to grab the mug from your nightstand. “Mm, perfect,” he said, eyes fluttering shut as he took a sip, savoring the warmth on his tongue. “Just what I needed.”

You smiled, took a sip from your own mug before setting it down and snuggling into his side. Into safety. His arm wrapped around you, pulling you close, and you couldn’t help but sigh in contentment as you laid your head on his chest, feeling the steady thump of his heartbeat beneath your ear.

After a moment, Sam asked, “How’re you feeling?” as his hand gently traced circles on your lower back. “Any more aches or pains?”

You chuckled softly, tilting your head up to meet his gaze. Last night, before bed—but not before a thorough debrief and a comforting dinner—Sam had insisted on inspecting the damage, checking your body for any signs of injury or abrasion, making you lie still as he massaged lotion onto your ass, wrists and knees.

“How bad?” you’d asked, looking over your shoulder as you laid flat on your belly, feeling particularly silly as he slathered another cold dollop on your ass cheeks.

The redness was fading, but the most abused patches had already begun to mottle. “You’re bruised.” He’d said it like an accomplishment. Even so, you could tell he felt a little guilty. Dude seemed to find a reason for self-blame in everything, you’d noticed.

Bruises were acceptable, you’d agreed. Favorable, even. As long as they could stay hidden. A secret for you to enjoy. You weren’t a fan of parading your winnings.

“Jeez, baby," he'd said, "you didn’t even stop me once.”

“Didn’t need to. I’m a tough cookie.”

“You most certainly are.”

Sam had continued his inspection of your butt a bit longer than necessary, watching the emerging patterns bloom before him. And you’d let him. It felt nice to be wanted; to be admired.

Now you felt the residual ache of the night before as you stretched out your limbs. A reminder of how he’d marked you. Claimed you. A brand you were proud to bear. The hickey on his hip paled in comparison.

“A few,” you admitted, casting a shy, sideways smile. “But nothing too bad. Just … you know, the good kind of sore.”

Sam’s eyes darkened as he met your gaze, remembering the intensity of your session; how rough he’d been and how you’d embraced it all. Embraced him. He’d get a proper look at you later; get a better idea of your tolerance. But for now, his hand continued its soothing movements on your back, dipping lower to massage the ache in your hips. “Let me know if you need anything. I might’ve been a little too enthusiastic.”

“I think I can manage … Besides,” you added, leaning up to press a kiss to his jaw, feeling the graze of his stubble against your lips. “You more than made up for it.”

His hand moved to your thigh, fingers kneading gently into the tender muscles there, his touch both comforting, and suggestive. “Maybe I should make it up to you again.” His voice dropped lower as his other hand cupped the back of your neck, guiding your lips to his.

The kiss was slow and deep; a languid exploration that sent a wave of heat through your body. You felt yourself melting into him, the soft sheets tangling around your legs as you pressed closer, craving the feel of his skin against yours. Suddenly, the ache in your muscles seemed to subside, replaced by a burning want. It had only been a few hours, book-ended by sleep, but still, you felt the pull, the desire to dive straight back in. When you finally pulled back, both of you were breathing a little heavier, the air between you sparkling with a familiar electricity.

“Careful,” you whispered, lips brushing against his as you spoke. “We might not make it out of bed if you keep that up.”

“Maybe that’s the point.” He slid his hand back under the sheets. Skimmed his fingers across your skin. “I’ll be gentle ...”

You swallowed, moistening a suddenly dry mouth. “You’re not ... tired?”

“Are you?”

“Wide awake.”

“Well, then . . .”

You let him guide you to your back, moaning softly as your head hit the pillow, followed by his mouth at the base of your throat. His kisses cascaded down your chest, between your breasts, down your stomach, tumbling over your hips like waves over rocks until they finally crashed in the hollow between your legs. The place that had become their home.

“I’ll never get sick of this…” A smile lit up his eyes, your sheen glistening like gloss on his lips. “You’re delightful ... Delicious.”

“You’re unreal.”

“No, princess…” A slip of a finger. In and up towards your navel. “I’m very … Real.”

----

This is an excerpt from my longer fic on AO3. You'll find more of this—including what they got up to the night before—here. 😏

[solxamber]

Hello! I saw that you said it was fine to request still, so if it's alright I'll give you my thoughts/promt if it's fine by you.

Also wanted to say i love you're fanfics! Super entertaining and well written so i was wondering if you could write one that's Vil x mermaid! Reader (romantic) the prompt is-

Vil has been slowly falling in love with the reader; not just by her beauty but her personality the two have these little meet ups where she sings/the two talk endlessly and just enjoy eachothers company, but what I'm getting with this,is that Vil would take time to process his feelings but eventually he gets there and confesses. Maybe it could be a friends x lovers?

whatever you want to do with this idea is cool beans, I just really want to see what you come up with!! Alright,that's all much love ♡♡

Vil Schoenheit x Mermaid! Reader

the idea is so big brained!!! I hope you like it <3

Vil has always appreciated beauty. He lives and breathes it—the art of refinement, the craft of elegance. But lately, beauty has taken on a new form for him, and it looks suspiciously like you. He can’t pinpoint exactly when it started, but he knows it’s tied to those secret meetups you two share by the shoreline.

You’re a mermaid, and you make a point to remind him of that every time he mentions something about the "unbearable" human world. You always roll your eyes dramatically, your tail shimmering in the moonlight as you laugh at his over-the-top complaints about fashion disasters, inferior skincare routines, or the latest scandal in the entertainment industry.

"You humans are so fragile," you often tease, resting your chin on your hand as you float lazily in the water. "Honestly, Vil, it’s a wonder you haven’t all crumbled under the weight of your own drama."

He gives you a sharp look every time, but there’s always a trace of a smile pulling at the corner of his lips. "And yet, here you are, meeting up with one of these fragile humans every week."

"I didn’t say you weren’t entertaining," you retort with a sly grin. "It’s like watching a soap opera, except with more skincare tips."

Vil chuckles, running a hand through his perfectly styled hair, which somehow manages to stay flawless even in the salty sea breeze. "You’d be lost without my advice. I’ve seen your seaweed face masks."

You pretend to gasp, putting a hand to your chest. "Seaweed is a perfectly valid skincare ingredient! In fact, it’s far superior to that toxic concoction you call moisturizer."

"Seaweed smells like the bottom of the ocean."

"And you don’t?"

That’s how it always goes—banter, teasing, comfortable silences filled with the soft crashing of waves, and eventually, music. You sing sometimes, when the mood strikes you. It’s never anything planned; it just happens. Vil always listens, captivated, because your voice is something he can't quite describe. It's raw, but pure, untouched by the expectations of the stage or the pressures of fame.

Sometimes he sings back, though he pretends he’s only doing it because you insist. "Come on, Vil. Just a few bars. You know you want to."

"I am a professional," he says, crossing his arms. "I don’t perform on a whim."

But you know how to coax him, and soon enough, he’s harmonizing with your lilting melody, his smooth, controlled voice intertwining with yours in a way that makes the night feel magical.

It’s been months of these little meetings, and Vil has never been quite sure what to make of you. You’re beautiful, of course—stunning, really—but that’s not what has him coming back to the shore every week.

It’s the way you make him feel completely at ease, the way you challenge him without being mean-spirited, the way you listen to him vent about things you couldn’t care less about yet still offer thoughtful responses.

And then there’s that laugh of yours—sharp, like the crack of a wave against the rocks, but warm enough to make him feel lighter every time he hears it.

He’s always valued control—over his image, his career, his emotions—but with you, he’s found himself slipping. He realizes, with some discomfort, that he’s been looking forward to these meetings a little too much. It’s not just the singing or the banter anymore. It’s... you.

That thought bothers him, because Vil Schoenheit does not get "distracted." He doesn’t fall for anyone. At least, not like this.

But here he is, walking down to the beach again, heart beating faster than usual as he anticipates seeing you. Tonight, though, something feels different. Maybe it’s the way the moon is hanging lower than usual, casting everything in a silvery glow, or maybe it’s the fact that Vil can’t deny his feelings anymore.

You’re already waiting for him when he arrives, sitting on a rock with your tail swishing lazily in the water. "Late again, Mr. Superstar?" you call out teasingly.

"I’m fashionably late, thank you," Vil replies, though there’s a softness in his voice. He takes a seat on the sand, smoothing out his coat with practiced precision before looking at you.

"You’re slipping," you say, eyeing him critically. "Usually, you’d have a comeback ready. What’s the matter? One of your beauty products finally backfired?"

Vil snorts softly, shaking his head. "No, though if it did, you’d be the first to hear about it." He looks out at the horizon, his expression thoughtful. "I’ve just been... thinking."

"Uh-oh," you say, folding your arms over your chest. "That sounds dangerous. What about?"

He hesitates for a moment, unsure of how to approach this. Vil has always been calculated, measured in everything he does. Confessing his feelings, though? That’s not something he’s prepared for. He glances at you, and suddenly, the words start spilling out before he can stop them.

"You know, for someone who claims not to care about humans, you certainly seem to enjoy spending time with me."

You raise an eyebrow, clearly intrigued by the shift in tone. "Are you fishing for compliments, Vil? Because I don’t need to stroke your ego any more than it already is."

He chuckles, shaking his head. "No, it’s just... You’re always teasing me about humans, about my world, but you keep coming back. Why?"

You tilt your head, considering his question for a moment before replying. "Because you’re interesting, Vil. You’re not like the others I’ve met. Most humans get caught up in themselves, but you... you’ve got a spark. You’re genuine, even when you’re being all high-and-mighty. And, well, it’s not like I’ve got a lot of options for good conversation under the sea."

Vil’s heart skips a beat at your words, and he finds himself smiling despite the nerves building up inside him. "I see. So I’m just your entertainment, then?"

"Oh, definitely," you say, grinning. "But you’re also... more than that."

Vil blinks, his breath catching slightly. "More?"

You nod, your expression softening. "You’re someone I look forward to seeing. I like being around you, Vil. You make me feel... seen. And I’m not just talking about my looks. It’s like you actually care about me as a person, not just a pretty face."

He swallows, his chest tightening as he listens to your words. This is it. He can’t hold it in any longer. "I do care," he says quietly, his voice trembling ever so slightly. "More than you know."

You look at him, your teasing expression fading as you sense the weight behind his words. "Vil...?"

He takes a deep breath, steeling himself. "I think... I think I’m falling for you."

There. He said it. And now his heart is racing, his palms are sweating, and for the first time in what feels like forever, Vil Schoenheit is unsure of himself. He braces for your reaction, half expecting you to laugh it off or tease him like you always do.

But you don’t. Instead, you blink at him, your mouth opening and closing as you process his confession. "You... what?"

Vil clears his throat, forcing himself to meet your gaze. "I’m in love with you," he repeats, more confidently this time. "I’ve been falling for you for a while now, and I didn’t want to admit it, but... I can’t keep it to myself anymore."

There’s a moment of stunned silence before you break into a wide smile. "Vil, you absolute idiot."

He recoils slightly. "I beg your pardon?"

You laugh, shaking your head in disbelief. "I’ve been waiting for you to say something for months now! I thought I was going to have to spell it out for you."

Vil blinks, taken aback. "You... you knew?"

"I didn’t know know," you admit, "but I had a feeling. You’re not exactly subtle, Vil."

He stares at you, a mixture of relief and embarrassment flooding his system. "Why didn’t you say anything, then?"

"Because I wanted to see how long it would take for you to figure it out yourself," you say with a smirk, leaning forward slightly. "I didn’t think it’d take this long, though."

Vil narrows his eyes, though there’s no malice in his expression. "You’re insufferable."

"And yet, you love me," you tease, reaching out to cup his cheek gently. "What does that say about you?"

He huffs, though his heart is fluttering in his chest at your touch. "That I have terrible taste."

You laugh again, the sound bright and infectious, and before Vil can say anything else, you pull him in for a kiss. It’s soft, gentle, and Vil feels like his entire world is melting away in that moment. The taste of saltwater lingers on your lips, and for the first time in a long time, Vil isn’t worried about appearances or perfection. He’s just... happy.

When you finally pull away, both of you are smiling like fools. "So," you say, your voice teasing, "does this mean we’re a thing now?"

Vil rolls his eyes, though he can’t stop the grin spreading across his face. "I suppose it does."

"Good," you say, leaning in to kiss him again. "Because I’m not letting you back out of this one, Mr. Superstar."

Vil chuckles against your lips, his hand sliding to the back of your neck to pull you even closer. "Oh, trust me," he murmurs, his voice low and smooth, "I have no intention of backing out. But I do expect you to stop wearing those dreadful seaweed masks."

You gasp dramatically, pulling back just far enough to look him in the eye. "Excuse you! Seaweed is nature’s skincare miracle, Vil. Just because it’s not wrapped in fancy packaging doesn’t mean it’s ineffective."

He raises a perfectly sculpted eyebrow, his lips curling into a playful smirk. "Perhaps, but you’ll have to let me introduce you to something a little more refined. If we’re going to be a couple, I simply can’t allow my significant other to use subpar beauty products."

"Oh, is that so?" you ask, amusement twinkling in your eyes. "I didn’t realize I was dating a beauty tyrant."

"It’s for your own good," he says with mock seriousness, though there’s a warmth behind his gaze that betrays his affection. "Think of it as part of your glow-up. You’ll thank me later."

You can’t help but laugh, your heart swelling with affection for the man in front of you. It’s strange, really—how quickly this has all come together, yet how natural it feels. You never would’ve guessed that your casual banter and late-night talks would lead to this, but now that it’s happening, you wouldn’t have it any other way.

Vil reaches out and tucks a strand of hair behind your ear, his touch gentle but purposeful. "You know," he says softly, his usual sharp tone melting into something softer, "I’ve never met anyone quite like you."

You smile at him, feeling the warmth of his words settle into your chest. "I could say the same about you, Vil. You’re not as scary as people think, you know."

He chuckles, shaking his head slightly. "That’s a well-maintained persona, I’ll have you know. Can’t let people think I’m soft."

"Oh, but you are," you tease, poking him lightly in the chest. "At least with me."

He scoffs lightly, though there’s no real bite behind it. "I’ll deny it if you tell anyone."

You laugh, resting your forehead against his as you savor the closeness between you. For the first time in what feels like forever, you feel completely at peace, as if everything has fallen into place. Vil, with all his elegance, wit, and sharpness, has somehow become the person you’ve come to care about more than you ever thought possible. And now, as he holds you close, you know that you wouldn’t trade this for the world.

"I’m glad it’s you," you whisper, pressing a light kiss to his cheek. "I never thought I’d fall for a perfectionist with an ego the size of the sun, but here we are."

He lets out a soft, genuine laugh, his arms wrapping around you more securely. "I never thought I’d fall for someone who argues with me over skincare, but I suppose life has a sense of humor."

"Looks like we’re both in for a wild ride, then," you say with a grin.

Vil hums in agreement, his hand gently stroking your hair. "As long as it’s with you, I think I can handle it."

You smile, feeling your heart soar at his words. There’s a certain magic to this moment—a kind of fairy tale that feels like it’s been written just for the two of you. And as you sit there, wrapped up in each other’s warmth, you can’t help but think that maybe, just maybe, this is the start of something truly beautiful.

"Well then," you say, pulling back slightly to look him in the eye, "looks like you’re stuck with me, Schoenheit."

"Forever, I hope," he says softly, before pulling you in for another kiss—this one longer, deeper, filled with the promise of something lasting.

And in that moment, with the moon shining overhead and the waves lapping gently against the shore, you know that whatever comes next, you’ll face it together..

Masterlist

[crescenthistory]

I saw that you wanted to write the girlies into your fics more often, so I wanted to make a request 8) Can I request a reader x Regulus where reader is crushing BAD on Reggie, and the girlies take it upon themselves to try and do a little matchmaking? I love your work, and your recent Barty fic was AMAZING btw!!!

the girlies<333 oh how i love them and their silly little adventures, thank you for giving me an excuse to write them babes! and for being soso sweet omg you're an angel

Summary: Dorcas has had it with two of her best friends walking on eggshells around each other to avoid their feelings. So, she puts her best meddlers on the case to end it once and for all, and make the idiots kiss.

Words: 5.7k (i am unwell)

Warnings: not proofread, mutual pining believed to be unrequited love, use of y/n, slytherin!fem!reader, background girlies, rosekiller and dorlene, teasing, awkwardness, language, confessions of love, really cliche but makes up for it in sweetness?

Note: who wouldn't be down bad crying at the gym for reggie?

Though you believed being humble was virtuous, you did pride yourself with being a particularly kind person.

Most people in the castle got over well with you, and you had been able to float in and out of all the major friend groups in your year. The self-declared Marauders often ran to hide with you when chased by a consequence in one form or another, and the Hufflepuff quidditch team seemingly adopted you after you cheered them up after their first loss of the season. With all the pressures of Hogwarts and the lives you were soon to embark on afterwards, it was the least you could do to spread some joy, and perhaps receive a bit in return.

At the end of the day, you always came back to your friend group, though – a heap of entangled limbs and snickering, usually found in the same trusted corner of the Slytherin common room. Barty was always in some way or another physically on top of Evan, rarely conventional cuddling positions, while Pandora sat cross-legged on the floor by them, preferably braiding someone’s hair. Dorcas would sit on the table or lounge chair, waving her arms emphatically, often hitting either you or her girlfriend Marlene – the one Gryffindor you all collectively accepted – square in the face, multiple times throughout the night.

Oh, how you loved them.

And if their cheers every time you returned to them from your little friendship tours, as Barty called them, were anything to go by – they loved you too.

Then, there was Regulus Black.

The victim of whatever positions Evan and Barty felt like sitting in, as he always sat at the other end of the sofa they inhabited. The calm and collected of the bunch, except for when Dorcas or Barty said something particularly outlandish he just had to argue with. The multitasker, always with a book in hand, whether for personal enjoyment or study-related, somehow devouring them while catching every word around him. The wittiest one, well-timed remarks hitting people – usually Barty – square in the chest.

The object of all your desires.

Because while you were a kind person, and arguably well-liked, Regulus was the one person you never managed to get quite close to. You were in the same little circle of friends, sure, and had been having friendly conversation and banter for the past 7 years. In theory, you know each other like the backs of your hands, but in practice you had never been alone in a room with him for more than a few minutes before he runs off.

It hurt you once upon a time, wondering what was wrong with you to make him seemingly be repelled from you like oil from water. Over the years though, you realised that is just kind of how Regulus operates. There is some reason behind all the mechanics, but they are not for others to know, just him to sulk over, and you have to accept what you’re given until he’s ready to offer more. Though you tried not to dwell on the fact that it was only you he seemed to avoid to that extent. You had to leave it to him to figure it out, you had decided.

You could live with that, but distance unfortunately made your heart grow fonder. Painfully so.

Regulus Black with his gorgeous black curls that have been so soft to the touch every time you have been close to it during your late nights around the fireplace. Regulus Black with his flowy white shirts and silver rings, gleaming in the glow of Hogwarts’s many candles. Regulus Black with his stupidly beautiful laugh whenever one of his friends could withdraw a real one from him, as if fished from the depths of his chest. Regulus Black with his striking grey eyes that you could get lost in, and have embarrassingly so, many a time. Regulus Black with his–

“Y/N would you quit pining for just a second and listen to me!” Dorcas’s exasperated voice cut through your musings, as you looked up at her with a non quizzical hum, only causing her to groan louder.

You were laying on your bed, almost ready for the night, while Dorcas apparently had tried to get through to you from her own bed mere metres from yours. Your best friend was sat on her bedside, hands on her knees as she looked just about ready to tackle you. Lovingly, of course.

“How’d you know I was even thinking about that?” you challenge, but there is no real fight in you as Dorcas’s gaze has already levelled you.

“You think about much else?”

“Rude.”

“Ruder to call him ‘that’. Put some respect on Reggie’s name.” You rolled your eyes, and had to fight the urge to shush her.

“Oh, don’t worry, he can’t hear us all the way from the boys’ dormitories.” 7 years of friendship had taught her almost too much about you.

“Would you stop trying to read my mind?” You climbed over in her bed to give her the attention she so craved. “It’s a bit intense.”

Dorcas flopped down on her back, sighing at nothing in particular. “You love that I know you so well. And someone ought to read your mind, if you’re not going to speak it.”

“Maybe some things are better left unsaid,” you teased her, but she kept giving you a narrow stare.

“I simply refuse to believe that.”

“Hey, where’s Marls?” you ask, not necessarily because you missed the blonde and pink haired menace you had come to view as a sister. Mostly just to shift the topic at hand. “Wasn't she supposed to stay the night?”

“Yeah, but she’s running an errand for me.”

“An errand?” You quirked a brow at her, looking over at a clock you kept by your bedside. “12 minutes before curfew?”

“Yes,” Dorcas said, giving you a duh look. Stupid you.

As if on cue, Marlene all but kicked down your door with a grin plastered on her face. “How ya doin’ ladies? I brought friends.” In behind her came Pandora and Lily, smiling a bit more softly, though there was a mischievous glint in Lily’s eyes that could only be a poor habit picked up from a certain Gryffindor bunch.

You gave enthusiastic greetings in return, happy to see your friends, but your brow still furrowed at the unexpected guests. A quick glance at Dorcas, whose lips curled into a grin so innocent that it immediately raised suspicions, only deepened your confusion.

“What’s this about?” you asked, voice laced with curiosity but also a growing sense of foreboding. A roomful of your closest friends this late at night – this had all the hallmarks of an ambush.

“Oh, nothing,” Dorcas said, too casually. She was still sprawled on her back, her eyes half-closed, but you didn’t miss the smirk playing on her lips. “We just thought it would be super fun to have a little... chat.”

Pandora was already situated on the floor right in front of you, humming some unfamiliar tune as she twisted her locs absentmindedly, while Lily leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, a knowing smile dancing across her face. Marlene, never one for subtlety, was practically bouncing on the spot, barely containing her excitement.

“A chat?” You narrowed your eyes at them, already sensing that you were the centre of whatever this was. “That everyone knows about beforehand except me? I think that's called an intervention.”

Marlene’s grin widened. “You’re smarter than you look.”

“Hey!” You threw a pillow at her, which she easily dodged, cackling. “Okay, seriously girls. What’s going on?”

Lily stepped forward, eyes twinkling with mischief. “We’ve been talking. Well, more like observing.”

“Observing what exactly?” you asked, a sinking feeling creeping into your stomach. You knew these girls, and you knew when they were up to something.

“More like observing who,” Marlene interjected with a wink, as she casually threw herself onto Dorcas’s bed beside you, almost kicking her girlfriend in the face.

Pandora hummed softly, eyes now trained on her chipping purple nailpolish. “It’s just… you’ve been staring at Regulus like a lovesick puppy for years, and he’s been acting all distant and broody in response. Now that we're in our final year, the harmony should be set right before we all leave.”

You sat up straighter. “I have not–”

“Oh, come off it, Y/N.” Dorcas finally sat up, folding her legs beneath her. “You practically melt every time he so much as glances your way, and we’ve all seen the way you fawn over his hair like it’s spun silk. It’s borderline painful.”

Your face flushed, but you tried to play it off with a wave of your hand. “I don’t fawn.”

“You do,” Lily said, with the smallest hint of a smirk. “And Regulus? Merlin, that boy has been pining for you for too long. If you're a lovesick puppy, he's a kicked street dog.”

Your heart stumbled in your chest. “Wait– what?”

Marlene clapped her hands together in delight, as if she had been waiting for this exact moment. “Oh, darling, it’s so obvious. He’s completely smitten. Why do you think he’s always avoiding you? The boy’s terrified he’ll do something stupid like… I don’t know, confess his undying love for you in front of everyone.”

You blinked, completely taken aback. You expected them to give you a get it together speech, not... whatever this is.

“But– but, what, no, he’s always so cold around me. I thought–”

“That’s because he’s a socially inept idiot when it comes to feelings,” Dorcas interjected with a shrug, never one to sugarcoat it, though her voice softened when she took in your confused face. “Look, Regulus has spent his whole life trying to remain in control, but when he's around you he can't. So, if he can’t figure out how to act, he just… doesn’t.”

Lily nodded. “He’s not used to wanting something as much as he wants you.”

"Oh, he would not be happy knowing you're psychoanalysing him like this," you mumbled, mind whirling, to which Marlene and Dorcas just cackled.

Humour at the expense of their friend – what could be better?

You struggled to process this new information. You had left your relationship with Regulus to fate, an open invitation for friendship without pursuing anything more than that. As long as you could admire him from afar, you figured it was enough. The thought that he might have felt the same, but not know how to go about it felt foreign to you. It seemed impossible, and yet, when you thought back, the signs were there. The way his eyes lingered on you just a bit too long when he thought you weren't looking. The way his laughter – rare and beautiful – sounded a little softer, a little more genuine, when you were around. The way he physically ran away from you when you got too close, always some handy excuse ready...

You had chalked it up to his aloofness, to his enigmatic nature. A large part of you, fragile and uncertain, still wanted to.

“I don’t know…” you started, still hesitant. “What if you’re wrong?”

Pandora smiled softly at you, her eyes gentle but firm. “We’re not wrong, Y/N. The stars told me as much. But if your heart needs proof, we’re going to help you get it.”

Your gaze snapped to her, as blood rushed through your head. “Help me… how?”

“That’s the best part!” Marlene all but squealed, bouncing up from the bed and throwing her arm around you. “We’re going to play matchmaker!”

You stared at them, wide-eyed. “What? No! You’re not– no meddling! You’ll make things worse.”

Dorcas just gave you a knowing look, leaning back on her hands. “How can we make things worse if there is nothing at fuck all going on between you right now because you can't get your heads out of your asses?"

"We're friends, Dorcas!"

She sighed, as if you were a child, but gave you a soft look. You think she was trying to be reassuring. "We’re not going to make things worse. We’re going to force you two to face each other, and maybe then you’ll finally stop dancing around your feelings.”

“I don’t–”

“Too late, darling,” Marlene interrupted, her grin wicked. “Plans are already in motion.”

Lily smirked. “We’ve got it all figured out.”

You were about to protest again when Pandora placed a soft hand on your shoulder. “Trust us,” she said, her voice a soothing balm against the rising anxiety in your chest. “This is going to work.”

You sighed, rubbing your temples. There was no stopping them, you knew that much. Once this group had an idea in their heads, there was no turning back. Still, the thought of whatever they had planned made your stomach twist in both excitement and dread.

Marlene clapped her hands together once more. “Right, first things first. Tomorrow, we’re going to get you two alone.”

“And then what?”

Dorcas’s grin widened. “Then, you’re going to talk to him.”

"Talk?" you repeated, your voice squeaking slightly.

"Yep," Lily said with a satisfied nod. "Just talk."

"That's the worst plan I've ever heard in my life. Scratch that, not even really a plan. Just the worst I've ever heard."

"You're lashing out 'cause you're scared." Marlene said in a fake-hurt voice, wiping invisible tears from her eyes as Dorcas shoved her.

You swallowed hard, your mind spinning with a hundred different emotions.

“Don’t worry, love," Lily almost cooed at you. "We’ll make sure everything goes perfectly.”

"How?"

"We'll see where the day takes us."

Your eyes flitted between the four of them, realising then that there was no getting out of this, and that you were not sure any of you even knew what this was yet.

You let out a groan as you flopped ceremoniously down on the bed, hiding your face in your eyes.

All girls cheered as they knew that was your sound of defeat, and thus their green flag to go crazy.

The next day, your nerves were buzzing like a poorly-executed Cheering Charm gone wrong. The plan – their plan – was apparently in full swing, and you had absolutely no control over it. In fact, your only plan was to somehow avoid being alone with Regulus Black at all costs.

Despite Dorcas's little lecture to you this morning about just ripping the fucking bandaid off love, gosh, you were entirely not on board anymore. Not that you ever were.

You had tried pleading with them again at breakfast, but they had brushed you off with reassuring pats and sly grins, as if your rising panic was nothing but a trivial detail. And so, here you were, pacing in the common room while the rest of the girls casually lounged, casting side glances at you and whispering like they weren’t blatantly scheming.

“Stop fussing, would you,” Marlene drawled, draped across one of the armchairs, looking far too pleased with herself. “We’ve got it all handled.”

“You’ve got nothing handled,” you hissed, feeling the dread creep up your spine. “You’re going to ruin everything. I mean, what if he freaks out? Or worse – what if he laughs at me?”

Lily, who was lounging with a book in her lap, raised an eyebrow over the top of it. “Y/N, Regulus Black doesn’t laugh at anything that isn’t Junior falling down the stairs. You’ll be fine.”

“Yeah, and even if he does freak out,” Dorcas added, casually tossing an apple in the air, “it’s because he’s an emotionally stunted mess, not because he doesn’t like you.”

Your face burned. “That’s not exactly comforting.”

“Trust us, Y/N. We wouldn’t be doing this if we weren’t sure," Marlene groans. "He likes you, okay? He’s just too much of a brooding, melodramatic git to do anything about it.”

You opened your mouth to protest again, but before you could, Pandora, ever the quiet voice of reason, gave you a soft smile. “It’ll be okay. Just be honest. You might be surprised by what he says.”

For half a second you dwelled on the fact that Pandora was the one everyone went to as their little therapist, and maybe her reassurance is not just speculation, as with the other girls.

You didn't allow that second to drag out, lest your head explode.

The sincerity in her voice almost made you believe them, though. Yet the idea of being locked in a room with Regulus, of all people, and forced to confront the swirling mess of emotions you had been harbouring for years? That was terrifying.

“I don’t know,” you said, backing toward the door in a desperate attempt to flee. “Maybe we should just–"

Dorcas was quicker than she looked. She slid in front of the exit, blocking your escape route with a triumphant grin. “Nope. You’re staying put.”

Before you could make a break for it, Marlene hopped to her feet, suddenly all business. “Right. It’s time. Pandora, Lily, you ready?”

“Ready,” they both said in unison, as if this were a Quidditch match and not the absolute destruction of your sanity.

“Wait– what’s happening?” you asked, voice rising with panic.

“We’re just going to have a little chat with Regulus,” Lily said with a wink, standing up and smoothing her skirt. “Should only take a minute.”

You watched in horror as the three of them sauntered out of the common room, leaving you in a state of rising dread. Dorcas remained blocking the door, arms crossed and a gleam of determination in her eyes.

“You don’t have to do this,” you said, trying one last desperate appeal to her better nature.

“Oh, I really think I do,” she replied with a grin. “Now, be a good sport. You’ll thank me later.”

Dorcas with her quidditch strength, picked you up and carried you to your dormitory despite your many loud protests. She practically shoved you inside, landing awkwardly on the floor, heart pounding in your chest.

“Just… read something and try to relax,” Dorcas called over her shoulder, slamming the door shut behind you. “We’ll handle everything.”

“Dorcas!” you yelped, but she was already gone.

You groaned, pushing yourself up off the floor and onto one of the beds, grabbing a random book from the bedside table in a futile attempt to calm your racing thoughts. It didn’t help.

Not even five minutes later, you heard the faint sound of footsteps outside the door, accompanied by hushed whispers that made your stomach drop.

“Marlene, what are you up to?” you muttered to yourself, sinking lower into the bed. You barely had time to brace yourself before Marlene’s voice echoed from the hallway, far too chipper for the situation.

“Oh, Reggie!” she called out in a sing-song voice that was dripping with false innocence. "I think I saw the creature run in here!"

Your heart immediately stuttered in your chest. No, no, no–

“In behind this... closed door?” came Regulus’s unmistakable voice, low and suspicious. There was always something about his tone, that subtle roughness to his otherwise smooth words, that made the hairs on the back of your neck stand on end.

“Ugh, yes, please go fetch it,” Lily chimed in, her tone too casual to be convincing.

There was a beat of silence, and you could practically feel Regulus’s confusion through the door. “In the girls’s dormitory?” His voice was flat, unimpressed. "Can't you guys?"

"No, you're the one who got an Outstanding in Care of Magical Creatures. Please."

They couldn't be serious. What a master plan.

“It's important, Reg,” Pandora added, ever so softly, but with an edge of persistence that could sway anyone who wasn’t keen on questioning her.

There was another pause, and you held your breath. You could picture Regulus now – his sharp, silver eyes narrowing, a flicker of doubt crossing his face, his brain probably piecing together that whatever this was, it wasn’t something he should agree to. Not even Regulus is immune to charm and coercion from his friends though –and he probably couldn’t fathom the idea of Marlene calling for his help if it weren’t truly necessary – and you clearly heard his reluctant sigh through the door.

“Fine,” he muttered, footsteps nearing the door.

You had just enough time to consider how humiliating it would be to try and throw yourself out the window, but alas, Hogwarts windows didn’t accommodate such escapes.

The door creaked open, and there he was.

Standing in the doorway, looking like the very embodiment of a storm in human form, all brooding energy and understated elegance. His black curls were slightly dishevelled, his usual pristine appearance marred just enough by the casual looseness of his shirt collar, which somehow made him look even more effortlessly intimidating.

He looked around the room, eyes landing on you and widening slightly.

"Oh, hey Y/N, have you seen–"

Before you could answer or before he could even finish his sentence – slam. The door shut behind him with a loud click, the lock snapping into place.

Regulus’s head whipped around, his hand immediately going to the doorknob, shaking it lightly. “What the bloody hell?”

You watched in horror as the unmistakable sounds of footsteps retreated down the hallway, followed by Marlene’s faint, gleeful laughter.

“I’ll kill her,” you whispered, more to yourself than anyone.

Regulus sighed deeply, his hand dropping from the door. He turned back to you, jaw tight, a muscle twitching at the corner of his mouth. "That makes two of us," he said, having clearly heard you across the room that felt increasingly smaller.

You laughed lowly, but couldn't quite meet his eyes.

“So… I’m assuming this beast was part of some master plan.”

You nodded, feeling your face heat up. “Yeah, pretty much.”

There was a heavy silence between you, the kind that felt both unbearably awkward and strangely charged. Regulus stayed by the door, leaning against it as though contemplating whether he could somehow break through it with sheer willpower. You, meanwhile, sat on the bed with your heart pounding in your chest like it was trying to escape the mess your friends had created.

Regulus’s eyes flicked to you, his expression guarded but curious. “You don’t… know what this is about, do you?”

You tried to swallow past the sudden lump in your throat, your fingers gripping the edge of the book like it might anchor you to reality. “I have a guess.”

He raised an eyebrow, crossing his arms over his chest in that way that made him look even more imposing. “And?”

“And,” you echoed, your voice faltering under the weight of what you were about to say, “they seem to think that locking us in a room together is the perfect opportunity for us to, uh… talk.”

Regulus let out a humourless chuckle, shaking his head as he leaned his back fully against the door. “Talk. Of course. That sounds exactly like something Marlene would come up with.”

There was a pause, and his gaze, which had flickered away momentarily, settled on you again. You could swear his eyes softened ever so slightly as they swept over you – taking in the awkward way you sat on the bed, your hands still gripping the book like it was a lifeline. You noticed the way his shoulders, usually squared with tension, seemed to relax just a fraction, as though being here, with you, wasn’t as unbearable as you had feared.

He cleared his throat, clearly struggling to find something to say. “So… what were you reading?”

“Oh, uh…” You squinted at the title, stifling a laughter as you realised what it was. “It’s, um… Hogwarts, A History.”

Regulus’s lips twitched, amusement flickering in his eyes. “Really? You’re reading that?”

Your face heated even more, and you quickly abandoned the book, tossing it to the side. “Okay, no. I was trying to look busy while panicking over the fact that I was about to be locked in a room with you.”

"You knew?"

"I got a small warning after I was thrown in here."

"By Dorcas or Marlene?" he asked, amusement gleaming in his eyes because he knew you meant it literally.

"Dorcas."

He hummed in approval before his brows furrowed, as if registering your whole conversation, and he took a step closer, his usual guarded exterior slipping just a bit. “Why would that make you panic?”

The one question you didn’t have a safe answer for. You could feel your heart racing again, but there was something about the way he looked at you, something soft and searching in his gaze, that made it impossible to retreat.

You swallowed hard. “Because… I don't know. You’re Regulus Black.”

The words came out in a rush, like they explained everything, and to you, they did. Regulus, though, just stared at you, his expression unreadable.

“I don’t understand,” he said quietly, his voice low but noticeably not cold. “Why would my family matter?”

You laughed nervously, standing up from the bed as if that might help calm the chaotic swirl of emotions in your chest. “Not your family. You. Regulus. You’re just... you. You’re smart and brilliant and intimidatingly beautiful and–” You stopped yourself, suddenly horrified by the direction your rant was going. “And it just didn’t seem like you’d ever want to be stuck in a room with me.”

Regulus blinked, his posture stiffening as if your words had physically hit him. For a moment, the usual cool facade he wore cracked, revealing something vulnerable beneath.

“You think I don’t want to be around you?” His voice was barely above a whisper, but there was an edge of disbelief in it.

You looked away, unable to bear the intensity of his gaze. “I mean, yeah. You always seem so distant when I’m around. Like you can’t wait to get away.”

Regulus was silent for a moment, the air between you growing thick with tension. When he finally spoke, his voice was softer, quieter. “That’s not because I don’t want to be around you.”

You lifted your eyes to meet his, surprised by the raw honesty in his voice.

He stepped closer, his movements slower, more deliberate, like he was unsure of what he was doing for the first time in his life. “I… avoid you because I don’t know how to be around you without making a fool of myself.”

You blinked, completely thrown by his confession. “What?”

Regulus exhaled a shaky breath, running a hand through his hair, clearly frustrated with himself. “I’m not good at this – at feelings. At talking, like the girls wanted. You make me feel things I don’t know how to handle. So, I do the only thing I know how to do. I keep my distance.”

Your heart thudded in your chest, a mix of disbelief and hope rising in your throat. “Regulus…”

He met your gaze, and for the first time in the years you had known him, you felt as if you actually saw him in his eyes. The real him.

“I’ve liked you for longer than I care to admit,” he said, his voice low and steady now. “And it scares the hell out of me.”

You felt your breath catch, his words sinking into your chest and settling there, warm and heavy. It was as if the entire world had shifted in that moment, the tension between you now a living, breathing thing, pulsing with the weight of everything left unsaid.

"L– liked me?"

Regulus couldn't do anything but nod.

Without thinking, you closed the distance between you, stepping closer until you were just a breath away from him. You could see the way his chest rose and fell, his eyes flickering down to your lips for the briefest second before he caught himself, jaw tightening.

“Regulus,” you whispered, the world narrowing to just the space between you. “I’ve liked you too. For so long.”

His breath hitched ever so slightly, eyes wild.

He didn’t respond with words – he didn’t have to. In one swift motion, he closed the remaining gap between you, his hands gently cupping your face as he leaned in and pressed his lips to yours.

The kiss was tentative, as if both of you were still testing the waters of something too fragile to fully comprehend. Regulus’s hands, cool but steady, cradled your face with a gentleness that sent shivers down your spine. The rest of the world faded away – your racing thoughts, your anxieties, the locked door behind you – none of it mattered in that moment.

It was just him. It had always been him.

As the kiss deepened, Regulus’s usual restraint seemed to dissolve, replaced by something raw and urgent. His fingers curled against your skin, one hand suddenly on the small of your back, drawing you closer until there was barely any space left between you. You felt his heart beating against your chest, fast and unsteady, matching the erratic rhythm of your own.

It was everything you had imagined, everything you needed.

You melted into him, lips, body and soul, before you pulled away breathless. The room felt impossibly still around you.

You were both standing there, eyes wide, inches apart, as if neither of you could quite believe what had just happened. Regulus’s lips were still parted, his gaze flickering from your eyes to your lips and back again, as though he was trying to memorise everything about this moment.

"Do you mean it?" he murmured. You felt his lips brush yours as he spoke.

You didn't need to ask what he meant. Instead you whispered a passionate yes before kissing him again, lingering against him. You could feel him begin to smile against you.

"This is not what I expected to come out of this," you whispered, your voice shaky but filled with a quiet, disbelieving laugh.

Regulus let out a breathless chuckle, one that sounded almost surprised, like he couldn’t quite believe it either. “I can't say I did either.” He paused, his thumb brushing lightly against your cheek. “But I’m not complaining.”

You smiled, warmth flooding your chest, and for the first time in what felt like forever, there was no uncertainty hanging between you. Just you and Regulus, and the quiet realisation that maybe, just maybe, all those years of longing and misunderstanding had led you exactly where you were meant to be.

You were about to say something – something witty, maybe, to break the tension – but then–

BANG!

The door flew open, slamming against the wall with such force that both you and Regulus jumped apart, your heads whipping toward the entrance just in time to see Marlene, Lily, Dorcas, and Pandora tumble inside, practically tripping over each other in their mad dash to get through the door.

“There they are!” Marlene shouted, grinning like the Cheshire Cat. She pointed dramatically at the two of you, looking like she had just witnessed the Quidditch World Cup. “I told you it would work!”

Lily snorted, pushing past Marlene and raising an eyebrow as she glanced between you and Regulus, both still slightly dishevelled and very much caught in the act. “Honestly, Marlene, you could have given them a few more minutes.”

You groaned, heat rushing to your face as you buried it in your hands. “Were you all just waiting outside the entire time?”

Pandora gave you an apologetic smile, but there was a mischievous twinkle in her eyes. It made her look all the more like Evan. “We were just… keeping an eye on things.”

Regulus, who had taken a deliberate step back when the door burst open, gravitated slightly more towards you again as he ran a hand through his hair. “I can’t believe you lot talked me into this.” For all intents and purposes he looked exasperated – but his lips twitched in amusement.

“Oh, don’t act like you hated it,” Dorcas teased. “You’re welcome for the facilitation by the way.”

“Facilitation?” Regulus repeated, his voice dry as he glanced around the room full of over-enthusiastic matchmakers. “That’s one word for it.”

Marlene was practically bouncing on the balls of her feet. “I have no words for how pleased I am with myself right now.”

"Evidently." You and Dorcas chorused at the same time, causing you both to giggle, though you tried to stifle it.

“You’re all completely insufferable," you said through an ever-growing smile.

“And yet,” Marlene drawled, throwing an arm around Dorcas’s shoulders, “you love us anyway.”

Regulus caught your eye, and despite the absurdity of the situation and the embarrassment of being ambushed by your meddlesome friends, you couldn’t help but laugh. His lips quirked up in that rare, almost-hidden smile he reserved for moments like this.

“Alright, alright,” Lily said, clapping her hands together as if trying to herd a group of first-years. “Now that this mission is accomplished –” she shot a pointed look at you and Regulus, “– we should probably leave them alone.”

Marlene looked like she was about to protest, but Pandora nudged her toward the door. “Give them some space.”

As they filed out, Marlene shot you one last wink over her shoulder. “Don’t worry, I expect all the juicy details later.”

You groaned again, shaking your head as they finally disappeared down the hallway, their laughter echoing faintly behind them. When the door closed with a soft thud, the room seemed impossibly quiet again, save for the soft crackle of the fire in the corner.

You turned back to Regulus, who was watching you with a look that was both amused and affectionate, his usual mask of indifference nowhere to be found. He stepped closer to you, arms circling around your waist.

"Your friends are idiots," he said with no real malice in his tone.

"Yeah, but so are we."

In privacy with you, Regulus's smile widened in a way that made your stomach flip, as he leaned in for another kiss.

[dantakeyoman]

omg.. i need a pt 2 to the seeing you for the first time :") it was so well written!! maybe something where he keeps staring at her and not doing well to adapt until his parents scold him?? if ur too busy then no need obv, but yeah i like ut writing alot !! 🫶🫶

Neteyam Is Struggling In Learning The Metkayina Ways, So You Give Him Some Encouragement (SFW)

Part 2 of "Head Over Heels"

CW: simp Neteyam, touchy reader, Lo'ak and Kiri duo, annoyed Ao’nung, reader is lowkey kinda crazy lol ( but in a good way i swear ), i headcannon that the Sully kids use beads as a barter system of some sort, and the person with the most beads has the most bragging rights, which is why Lo’ak and Neteyam have so many in their hair ( they bet a lot), Kiri has a few, and Tuk has next to none ( she doesn’t really understand it, but still attempts to )

“Neteyam, how many times have I told you? You must breathe from here, not here,” you playfully scolded, placing your hand on his chest and stomach to show how he was doing it wrong.

Neteyam’s breath hitched, already feeling his heart rate pick up.

Shit.

You moved you hand from on top of his lungs, to on top of his heart, and sighed.

It was practically going a mile a minute, like every other time you had checked these past two weeks.

“And your heartbeat. You must calm down, Neteyam. Allow your mind to go blank, and your heart rate to slow.”

It had been the same shtick since the boy got here.

All of the other Sullys had taken to their lessons swimmingly, now able to keep up with Ao’nung and Tsireya.

But Neteyam was the only one that couldn’t quite get the breathing right.

When Ao’nung taught him how to ride an ilu, he got it almost immediately. It only took him two tries.

When Rotxo taught him some basic sign language, he got each gesture the moment it was shown to him.

So why was he having so much trouble when you showed him some simple breathing techniques?

Little did you know, the boy could to do the breathing perfectly fine.

Practicing in his free time, he had managed to get it on his own.

But in order to graduate from his lessons, he had to keep up the technique for 5 minutes, with you checking to make sure he maintained the proper form.

And that was the root of the problem.

In order to check, you had to touch him, feel up on his chest.

And that always sent his heart into a frenzy, making all memory of the technique go out the window.

You were just so...you.

Every time you got anywhere near him, everything about you would flood his senses.

Your smell, your voice, hell, just your aura in general. 

It would all cloud his mind, and leave him unable to think about anything else.

It was overwhelming, and made it so he couldn’t be anywhere near you unless he wanted to become a stuttering idiot.

Which was, obviously, impossible to avoid during your lessons.

How does Dad do this everyday?

Who knew having an angel could be so frustrating.

“Here,” you started, snapping him out of his thoughts. “I think I have one more way to help you get it.”

He watched you, intently, as you tied a large rock to a really long stalk of kelp, then tied it to your ankle.

Once it was secure, you gave him a warm smile, which practically turned him to putty.

Fuck.

“See you later,” you winked, pushing the rock in the water and jumping in after it.

Neteyam stared, confused, as he watched you sink.

What is she doing?

2 minutes go by.

Is this normal?

4 minutes go by.

Okay, something’s up.

5 minutes go by.

That’s it.

Neteyam quickly dove into the water, frantically looking around to find any sign of you.

When he couldn’t see anything, he swam deeper, turning at a large coral reef.

There was no way you could’ve disappeared. So why couldn’t he find you?

It was scaring him.

What if you drowned? What if you were attacked by a predator? What if you had been swept away by the current?

These thoughts only fueled him more. And when he made it past this giant school of fish, he saw you.

The fish had been obstructing his vision at first, but he could now see that you were floating in the water, limply, as the rock from before kept you tethered to the ground.

Without hesitation, he swam towards you, whipping out his knife and cutting off the kelp stalk, before taking you in his arms, dragging you up.

He could feel himself slowly running out of air, but he had to stay strong. He couldn’t let you drown, not like this.

Not when he could’ve saved you sooner.

“Sure, men can have angels. But only real men can protect them,” his father’s words repeated in his head, keeping him going.

He was a real man.

And he was going to be his angel’s protector.

When the two of you broke the surface, he let out a loud gasp, flopping the both of you back onto the rock, panting.

When he turned to you, you were unconscious, laying still on the stone.

“(y/n)! (y/n), are you alright?!” Neteyam frantically asked, trying to shake you awake, pressing on your chest a few times.

That seemed to do the trick because you gasped, coughing up a little bit of water as your eyes snapped open.

“For Eywa’s sake! You surely took your time,” you breathlessly laughed, looking up at the boy with a smile.

“I-...wait....YOU DID THAT ON PURPOSE?!” he exclaimed, shocked.

He was absolutely befuddled. You scared him half to death, and you did it on purpose?

“I’m sorry I tricked you. But that was the only way I could see the breathing get through your thick skull,” you apologized, giving him a little flick in his temple, making his nose twitch.

It made your smile grow.

He looked cute when he was shocked.

Without warning, he pulled you into a bone crushing hug, burying his face in the crook of your neck.

“Please don’t scare me like that ever again,” he asked, his voice quiet and slightly broken.

It made you blush, and your heart wrench, at the same time.

You hadn’t thought he cared for you that much. Not to the point where he sounded like he was on the verge of tears at your death.

It made you guilty for pulling such a cruel stunt.

But it also made you feel loved, loved in a way you had never felt love before.

“I am really sorry, Neteyam,” you apologized once more, your joking tone gone.

You wrapped your arms around his neck as he backed out the hug, keeping him close.

He expression turned confused, and you gave him a chaste kiss as an answer, making his eyes blow wide.

This was really happening. You were really holding him. You were really kissing him.

Eywa, please don’t let this be a dream.

You kept it short and sweet, long enough to let him feel your emotion, but short enough to make him want more.

When you pulled away, his lips chased you a little bit, mindlessly, and you giggled.

“Let’s take it slow, forest boy,” you smiled, placing a hand on his lips.

He nodded frantically, like a child being promised candy, and it made you burst into full laughter.

This boy made you feel happier than you had in a long time.

“C’mon, let’s go for a swim,” you suggested, moving your hand from his mouth and nodding towards the water.

“I’m in,” he smiled, staring at you with an enamored glint in his eye.

That’s when you remembered.

“Hey, if it makes you feel any better,” you started with a smirk, turning to him and resting your hands on his chest.

His breath hitched, and his heart picked up speed yet again.

You leaned into his ear, dropping your voice to a whisper.

“You passed.”

The way you said the words made a shiver go down his spine, and a warmth spread through his body, it’s origins being your hands.

You pulled back, flashing him an innocent smile as if what you did was the most natural thing in the world.

But he knew better.

You knew exactly what you were doing to him, hiding it behind that beautiful smile and those gorgeous eyes.

Little did you know that that was making you all the more enticing.

Who knew his angel could be such a little troublemaker?

bonus !!

Lo’ak, Kiri, Tuk, and Ao’nung watched you kiss Neteyam in the distance, their ilu lessons being put on hold for the spectacle.

“Look at my bro. It’s only two weeks and he’s getting some tail in,” Lo’ak smirked, setting a reminder in his head to congratulate his brother the next time he saw him. 

“You better tell him to keep his hands to himself,” Ao’nung grumbled, turning to Kiri.

He did not find the situation as amusing as Lo’ak.

“Tell her that,” Kiri playfully scoffed, watching you move your hands down to his chest.

“Are Neteyam and (y/n) mates now?” Tuk asked, tugging on Lo’ak’s arm.

“No. But it’s only a matter of time,” he shrugged, ruffling her hair.

“Hey!” Ao’nung exclaimed, shooting the boy a sharp glare.

“I’m betting a week,” Kiri smirked, crossing her arms as she turned to her brother, holding up a satchel of beads.

“I’ll take action,” he smirked back, holding up his own.

“I hate you all,” Ao’nung groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose.

But in all honesty, knowing his sister, he gave it a few days.

[flwrior]

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤSWIM

엔하이픈 제이크 ୨୧ swimming lessons with your neighbor don't go as planned , fem reader | 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 skinship, nicknames, death (mentions) ﹑（taglist）

✉️ ,, why is jaehyun in the military rn 😢

“That’s one hot scene.” 

A voice called from behind you, shadowing the warmth on your body. Sunbathing had become one of your many habits during the summer, as well as trying to ignore your neighbor’s crude remarks. “Do you ever disappear?” You spoke, squinting through the sun to see his face.

“Only if you really want me to.” He leaned towards your ear, circulating more body heat than necessary. “But of course, that’ll only happen when you manage to get rid of me, which you never will.”

Shoving him away from your warming ears, you frowned in his direction. “Just do your job and go away.” Without waiting to hear his reply, you dived into the pool, drowning the heat in the cooling water.

He followed after you, using your inability to swim away from his body as an advantage. “Good attempt at trying to get rid of yourself, princess.” He gripped your waist, moving you to float on your stomach, steering you to the edge of the pool and letting your feet touch the steps. Placing your hands on top of his, you pried him away from you, shooting a look at his brash expression. 

“Stop being so resistant.” He spoke, brushing wet strands of hair away from your shoulders.  “Stop being so persistent.” You replied, shrugging him off and squinting from the sunlight shining directly above you. 

Holding his gaze for what seemed like an age, you broke eye contact, staring at the bright blue water, swaying leisurely by the breeze. Motioning down the pool steps, you turned your head to look at him. “Aren’t you coming?” 

Reluctantly, he moved towards you, slowly peeling off his semi-wet shirt, revealing a glistening built body, lightly coated by the water he was swimming in. In a daze, you stared at his tan figure closing the gap between you. Waving a hand in front of your face, he brought your attention back to him. 

“Shall we start?” His expression radiated cocky, watching heat rush into your cheeks. Looking away from him, you advanced into the shallow part of the water, allowing your body to float lightly in his grip.

Beginning your practice of floating on the water, you were flipped over to your back, feeling the water encircling your head, freeing your hair from its put together position. Jake’s hand found the small of your back, supporting your body. He spoke out instructions, gently sustaining eye contact. The session remained professional for what was longer than his usual record, before he moved you to your stomach, making you practice stroking in the water. 

“Good girl.” His voice sounded in your ear, leaving chills down your back despite the heat of the sun scorching it. You swallowed thickly,  ignoring his remarks and busy hands. 

“You look even better in water, you know.” His whisper startled you out of your focus, causing his grip to tighten on your waist for balance. “I didn’t ask for your input.” You spoke, shooting a glare at the boyish grin growing on his face. 

“Sure you didn’t.” He spoke, moving you to float upright in the water, pulling you closer to his body. “I’m not interested in being another one of your toys, Jake” You spoke, pushing his face away from yours. “You’re not going to be one of my toys,” He replied, ignoring your sarcastic scoff. 

“Prove it then.” You challenged, lingering in the depth of his eyes to read his true intention. Stillness washed over you as you bored holes into each other’s eyes, waiting for the other to give in. Watching him inch closer into you, you didn’t resist his movement, giving in to the temptation of his lips.

He steered your bodies to the rim of the pool, pressing your back against it. Pulling away, he pressed a kiss down your jawline, then moved to your ear, whispering against it lightly. “How about we ditch the swimming and do something else?”

all rights reserved, flwrior

[matchingbatbites]

drag me under

Written for the @steddiemicrofic challenge prompt charm.

Word count: 548 | Rating: T | CW: creature!Eddie, possessive behavior, compulsion, ambiguous ending

I have written absolutely nothing in like. A solid two weeks. And then @sentient-trash mentions swamp monster Eddie, which makes me think of lake creature Eddie, and somewhere around working I actually managed to write something. So, thanks Simon. <3

Eddie's beloved is perfect. 

The human has been coming to the lakeside for years, and Eddie's been watching him for just as long, has seen how the sunsets make his skin glow and marveled at the way the moonshine turns his hair to strands of starlight. He's witnessed innumerable smiles and lilting words, none ever aimed at Eddie himself, and yet the boy charmed him regardless, he wrapped the creature around his finger simply by existing.

He brings with him waifish, ungrateful girls, ones who don't appreciate Eddie's beloved the way he does. It pleases him to see that they rarely repeat more than once or twice; each time his sweetheart returns he seems to have a new one with him, yet none who hold any true affection for him, who use him for their own gain before moving on.

There's a long stretch of time where it's the same girl, over and over, his darling always looking at her like she's something special. It makes jealousy curl in his stomach, bright and acidic; makes him want to pull the wretch into his lake, to drag her down so she'll never see the light of day again.

So Eddie's love understands exactly who he belongs to.

One night, unexpectedly, Eddie's beloved arrives alone. 

He shows up with his pretty face bruised and bloodied, and Eddie is instantly worried, finds himself swimming closer to the edge of the water, needing to assure himself that his sweetheart is okay.

The moonlight reflecting from the surface makes his darling look otherworldly, like he's something closer to Eddie's kind than the human he actually is. The desire to be nearer to him swells and crests, and Eddie needs him closer.

He starts with a hum, something gentle that floats over the top of the water and finds its way to the boy. Beautiful, warm eyes turn to find the source, and Eddie sings louder, the soft melody becoming words, and he can see the way his shoulders tense before they drop, slowing relaxing as he hears Eddie's call. 

The human walks over, the expression on his face dream-like as he steps into the water, as he wades in until he's submerged up to his chest. Only then does Eddie move closer. 

The world shakes as the creature touches him for the first time, as he cradles that beautiful, broken face in his hands.

"Oh you sweet, pretty thing. Who hurt you, darling?"

It takes the boy a moment to process, he blinks like he's fighting sleep and mutters "Billy. Was protecting the kids, needed to keep them safe."

So selfless is Eddie's beloved, the protector, the caretaker. 

He's going to get himself killed, and the creature can't stand for that.

"I'm sure you did well, sweetheart, but it's time to rest now, yeah?"

He blinks, confused. "Rest?"

"Yes, darling." 

Eddie leans in and presses their mouths together like he's watched the boy do dozens of times, and suddenly understands why the humans enjoy it, the tender intimacy of it. His darling looks dazed when Eddie pulls away, and doesn't fight when his hands are taken in two chilly, clawed ones. He follows dutifully as Eddie begins to step back, guiding them deeper into the water. 

"Just let me take care of you."

[emeryhall]

for @wolfstarmicrofic: prompt #22, Azkaban also for @r33sespieces: my #1 wolfstar cheerleader rating: M word count: 1460 (sorry!)

The North Sea feeds into the Thames, and Padfoot—aka Sirius Black���is too exhausted to do much besides, well, doggy paddle. Float, paddle, float, paddle. He passes the Tower of London and shivers at the thought of imprisonment, or perhaps just the bitter cold water that’s bled through his mangy fur and into his barely covered bones. Under London Bridge, which still hasn’t fallen, even after his twelve years of absence. He doesn’t clamber out of the river until he sees Big Ben. Then he locates a cluster of tourists and gives himself a good shake, flinging wet-dog-river-once-used-as-London’s-sewer-system water onto them, before transforming back into a skinny, tattoo-encrusted naked man who cocks an eyebrow at the oldest tourist who faints dead away. He snorts, flips the V to the rest of the crew, and sets off to find clothes. 

He lands in some muggle used clothing store where all the garments are organized by color, the reds being nearest the door, so he snags a couple of red items and yanks the trousers over his skinny hips before the other customers can get too hung up on his dick which is definitely hung if not up. Weirdly, the red jeans he’s grabbed button up the flies instead of zip, so he buttons away trying not to snag his pubes. He should steal some pants next. The top is apparently a red sweater vest. It’s not a good look, but he’s not in a position to be picky. 

“Hey! Mister! You gonna pay for those?” some minimum wage brat demands. 

Sirius considers. He’s got no money, no wand, no pants, no shoes, no friends (as far as he knows). What he does have is fucking dead-ass eyes and a brain full of nightmares and revenge fantasies. 

“How about, rather than pay for these, I promise not to pull off every single one of your fingers and feed them to your arsehole?” His voice comes out strange—scratchy, barely a whisper—which turns out to be more effective than a shout in this situation. 

The kid nearly pisses himself and Sirius walks out of the shop looking like a cherry lollipop. 

Next up is food. There are rats to be had everywhere, scurrying about the London streets, but he walks down Haymarket until it turns into Regent and finds a chippy. (He’s not in the mood for rats. Not just yet, that is.) He orders chips with cheese and a slice of pizza on top and tells the kid behind the counter that if you break a rat’s spine you can spatchcock it just like a chicken. Then he laughs because rats don’t have spines. He’s not sure if it’s the laugh that does it or the spine comment, but the kid doesn’t bother asking for money—just looks like he’s trying not to breathe through his nose, which, fair enough. Sirius smells like arse. 

He leans against the wall of a building in Soho and licks pizza grease off his fingers, licks down his arm where it dribbled, and pays no attention to the posh bloke in khaki trousers and a pocket tee standing next to him until the man holds a lighter to a fag, inhales, and says in a waft of delicious smoke, “What’s your sign?” 

“Go fuck yourself. But give me one of those ciggies first.” 

The man is not put off. Instead, he scans Sirius from his grungy bare feet to his tangled hair, taking in the button flies, sweater vest, and neck tats. Sirius tugs at a belt loop where his hip bones jut above the waistband. 

“How’d you like to make some money?” The man’s accent is sharp. American. 

“How’d you like to fuck yourself?” But Sirius considers. Money could be useful. He’s gotta get to Hogwarts, after all. 

“Ah, if only I were that flexible.” 

Sirius snorts. “I’m not a charity case.” 

“Never said you were. You’d have to earn it.” 

What’s this guy want? His dick sucked? Sirius could probably manage that. It’s been over a decade but the dementors couldn’t have sucked—ha!—that knowledge entirely out of him. Must be like riding a bike. 

“How much?” Sirius asks. 

The man eyes him. “I could make you rich.” 

“From blowjobs? No thanks. I just need to get to Hogwarts.” 

Now the man looks puzzled. “I’m talking about your dreams.” 

“My dreams?” 

“What are your wildest dreams?” 

Sirius is a simple man, or at least he’s become one, so he ticks his dreams off on his fingers. Doesn’t even require a whole hand. 

revenge

Remus

a cigarette

“That’s it?” 

“That’s it.” 

“Well, I can help you with all three.” 

“You can help me find Remus?” 

“When I’m done, Remus will come to you. I’m assuming Remus is a person.” 

“Remus is a person.” 

“And revenge?” 

“Revenge takes money. I’ve already promised you that.” 

“The cigarette?” 

“You smoke?” 

“Quit twelve years ago.” 

“You sure you want to start back up?” But the man pulls a fag from his pack and hands it to Sirius. Even lights it for him. “So, should I get you a contract?” 

“For what?” The first sip of cigarette burns his insides. Cleans him out. Phoenix rising from the ashes and all that. (The metaphor matches his outfit.) 

“Modeling.” 

Sirius laughs so hard he chokes (although that may be the cigarette). The laughter feels good. It’s been a long, long while. “Sorry, did you say modeling?” 

“I did.” 

“Modeling, like Jerry Hall.” 

“Mick Jagger’s wife? Well, yes. Or Cindy Crawford.” 

“Who?” 

The American raises an eyebrow. “Have you been living under a rock?” 

“On, under. Something like that.” 

“Cindy Crawford.” The man points with his cigarette at a newsagents on the corner—racks of glossy magazines on display. 

Sirius squints. “What am I looking at?” 

“Far right. Rolling Stone cover.” 

There’s a bird with big hair and bigger tits on a beach, pink leopard print fabric fwapping about her. 

“You want me to do that?” Sirius glances down. His stomach is so concave you could serve ice cream in it. 

Khaki trousers laughs and fluffs some of his greying hair. “Not at all. I want you to be the opposite of that. I want you to be the face of my new fragrance.” 

Sirius doesn’t even have to lift an arm to smell himself. “Not sure that’s a good idea, mate.” 

“Oh, it is. Your look is perfect. Skinny, strung out, haunted eyes, gender uncertain, those tattoos that look like they’ve been done with a ballpoint pen and knitting needle. We’ll wash your hair a bit but leave it the same length.” 

The man touches Sirius’s hair. His finger gets caught in a gnarl and he has to tug it out. 

“Problem is Mr.…” Sirius waits for the man to fill in the blank. 

“Klein.” 

“Problem is Mr. Klein.” 

“Call me Calvin.” 

“Problem is Mr. Calvin Klein, I’m a wanted criminal. Convicted felon. Just escaped prison. You put me on a magazine cover like that broad”—he gestures with his cigarette towards the newsagents and the bird with the big, smooshed tits—“and you’ll have the whole Wizengamot down on the both of us, and I can’t have that. I’ve got a rat to track down and—” Sirius makes a slitting motion across his throat. 

Mr. Calvin Klein considers him. “I take it you’ve been wronged.” 

“Completely.” 

“Convicted felon but innocent man?” 

“That’s right.” 

“You’re a real life The Fugitive.” 

“What’s that?” 

“Harrison Ford.” 

“Like Han Solo?” 

“Never mind. And I take it the rat’s a snitch?” 

“And not a golden one either, if you know what I mean.” 

Calvin clearly doesn’t know what Sirius means. 

“Then we’ll have to make you too big to fail.” 

“Sorry?” 

“There are two ways to avoid re-imprisonment. One: below the radar. Sneak about. Avoid detection. I imagine that’s what you’re aiming for, but trust me, dressed like that, you’ve already failed. Option two, and the one I’m proposing: I’m going to make you so famous they can’t arrest you. See Cindy Crawford over there? You can’t arrest Cindy. There would be public outrage if you jailed Cindy.” 

Sirius must look skeptical because Calvin goes for another analogy. “How about Brad Pitt? You can’t imprison Brad Pitt.” 

“Who?” 

“Patrick Swayze?” 

Sirius shakes his head. 

“Burt Reynolds?” 

“Smokey and the Bandit?” 

“There you go. Now imagine imprisoning Burt Reynolds.” 

Pffff. “Please. You can’t lock up that ’stache.” 

“Exactly. We’ll make this—” Calvin waves his hands all up and down Sirius’s ‘look’—“so known, there’ll be mob justice if anyone comes for you.” 

“You can do that?” 

“I’m Calvin Klein and this is 1993.” 

“Is it now?” Sirius ashes the cigarette onto his bare foot. Cracks his toes on the pavement. “Where do I sign?”

Hi, Reese! One day I want to gift you a full-length wolfstar, but in the meantime, have this ficlet as a thank you for always supporting my weird-ass wolfstar ideas ❤️

Was this story inspired by the thought that Sirius escaped Azkaban in the mid-90s looking like the epitome of heroin chic? Yes, it was.

[surreal-duck]

the farmer, the drawing and spring onions

Quitting his job was easy enough. Throwing everything away to follow his late grandfather's letter to a small town in the middle of nowhere, not so much.

It's been a couple weeks since Midori had moved into Stardew Valley. The old, abandoned farm was a piece of work, nothing like Midori remembered when his grandfather was still alive. Looking over the field, he could clearly recall his grandfather's figure, hunched over and hard at work among the season's harvest. After his retirement, and Midori's parents setting up shop by the city instead, the place eventually fell into disrepair. Instead of the carefully planted crops and lovingly cared for fields, in his view was a thick, overgrown forest, scattered boulders and logs, and an only growing invasion of weeds.

Trudging along the dirt path with the morning harvest, Midori made his way into the nearby town. Birdsong filled the air, the crunching of fallen leaves beneath his feet offering accompaniment. Upon arrival, a familiar voice called out to him.

"Midori-kun! Already hard at work this morning, huh?" Black hair with red streaks bounded towards him.

"Just the usual, Tetora-kun," Midori sighed, "I didn't think managing a farm on my own would be this much work..."

Between wrangling the ever-expanding weeds, tripping over rocks and fending off crows, he could only wonder how his grandfather had dealt with it all on his lonesome. An especially nasty one had nipped at his hands in a show of challenge. How gramps put up with this for decades remained a mystery to him.

His friend laughed, "Well, if you ever need any help, just give me a shout! I'm sure Shinobu-kun wouldn't mind lending a hand either."

The townsfolk were nice, and he had made a few friends already, like Tetora and his friend Shinobu. The saloon's bartender Morisawa had given him a hearty welcome despite Midori's protests, and his partner Shinkai was... rather eccentric, having beckoned Midori to the beach with a barely legible soaked note in the mailbox, only to appear out of the water to hand him a fishing rod and float away. He tried not to think much of it.

Parting with Tetora, Midori watched as his new friend raced away to the side of tall, slightly intimidating, muscular man. Must be the chief he's talked so much about, he thought.

Midori stopped by the bulletin board hanging outside the general store on a hunt for new requests. With the farm needing repair, money for buying new crops and setting aside any change for food, any extra funds would help. Whether its slaying slimes, mining copper pieces or fishing for sea cucumbers, he'll take them if it's within his ability.

The board was as crowded as usual, fresh papers stacked on top of the torn, weathered ones. Midori's eyes skimmed through the calendar, taking notes on the few upcoming birthdays of the various townspeople. Maybe he'll pick up a present or two if he had the time.

That was when a certain poster caught his eye.

Obscured by and tucked away behind several other fliers, a request for spring onions was put up, accompanied by a crudely drawn illustration. Shaky lines drawn haphazardly, a misshapen silhouette, and something curiously akin to a pair of eyes. One might have mistaken it for a sort of cursed talisman, it was almost as if some malevolent aura was emanating from it.

Horrendous as it may be to anyone else, Midori was awestruck at the masterpiece before him. Was it hand drawn? Who was responsible for such a work of art? How could anyone hide it away like that? He was brimming with curiosity. After a few moments of admiring the drawing, he turned his attention the the words below, where 'Please contact Fushimi Yuzuru' was handwritten in a neat font.

Midori couldn't recall meeting a Fushimi Yuzuru before. Maybe he missed someone while greeting the townsfolk? Pelican Town wasn't very big, but the possibility remains.

I'm sure I have some spring onions with me from yesterday... Midori rummaged through his bag, confirming as such, and proceeded to enter the store. Though, instead of the old geezer that usually manned the cash register, he was met with the sight of a dark blue-haired man, one who seemed not much older than him.

With his back turned towards the door, he had yet to acknowledge Midori's presence. He wore a gentle smile as he talked into the phone by his ear.

"...Yes, Young Master, I understand. Are you eating well? If I so much as catch word of you slacking on your studies, please bear in mind I won't hesitate to head there myself and whip you back into shape." A few audible protests spilled from the speaker as the man only chuckled. "Then, have a good day, Young Master. You know you can always give me a call. I know you weren't very thrilled by the rooming arrangements beginning this semester, but please do try your best to get along with Tsukasa-sama."

Having noticed Midori's arrival, the unknown cashier quickly ended the call and turned towards him with a polite smile.

"How may I help you?"

"Oh, um, I have some crops from my farm I wanted to sell..."

Midori quickly unloaded the contents of his bag, looking up for a moment at the young man as he priced his crops accordingly. Upon closer inspection, he found that his slightly messy blue hair, long eyelashes and the mole under his right eye were rather... attractive?

He said something about a young master... is he from some well off family? Assorted theories crossed Midori's mind. What would someone like that be doing out here in the middle of nowhere?

Midori snapped out of his thoughts once the young man spoke up.

"You must be the new farmer, I presume?"

"Ah, yes! It's Takamine Midori."

"Then, it's a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Takamine-sama." He handed Midori a sack of coins in exchange for his crops, once again with that perfect customer service smile of his.

Takamine-sama? "A-ah, same here..."

Midori turned to leave the store, before suddenly recalling the request for spring onions he had taken earlier. Whipping his head back to the sales counter, he asked, "Actually, before I go, do you know anyone who goes by Fushimi Yuzuru here?"

The cashier stared at him with slight surprise. "Yes, that would be me. Is there something you need from me?"

Midori's face quickly morphed into that of surprise, and then awe and excitement. He attempted to stutter some sort of reply, to no avail, before remembering his original goal. After a few moments of fumbling around his bag, Midori took out the spring onions and held them towards him.

"Um, I saw you were looking for these from the request you put up outside, and I just happened to have foraged some last night, so...!"

"Oh! Why, thank you very much."

Yuzuru inspected the the vegetables closely, brushing off dirt here and there, before returning to meet Midori's gaze with the brightest smile of the day. He took a handful of extra coins from his apron pocket, much more than what was initially promised on the poster.

"Do keep the change. I've left that request up for a few days now, and was beginning to doubt anyone would take it." A drop of sweat trickled by his face. "Perhaps adding the illustration wasn't the brightest idea..."

Midori's eyes widened.

"Wait, so... you really did draw it yourself?"

"Hm? Yes, why?"

He squeezed the poster a bit closer. Midori couldn't believe his ears. Here, right here in front of him, was the very genius whose undoubtedly skillful hands had drawn the most awe-inspiring piece he had ever laid his eyes on. A grin tugged at the corners of his mouth, any sign of his usual tired expression was now wiped away with the pure, unbridled excitement he displayed. By no means would he let the chance of a lifetime slip right past.

A few onions were knocked aside as Midori fervently reached across the counter. Taking Yuzuru's hands in his, not even the man's startled face could deter the sparkling eyes focused solely on him.

If there was anything Midori knew at that moment, it was that he'd want nothing more than get closer to the wonderful artist before him.

"Fushimi-san— no, Master Artist!"

"...Pardon?"

[cheerycherrycandy-resurrected]

What You've Done, You Cannot Undo (Medieval AU)

Chapter 18

"Who made the final move, Dew couldn’t say. All he knew was his gasp at how Rain spoke his name, like addressing a deity, was swallowed up by the press of his cool lips to Dew’s own."

It's been a long time coming...

Rating: M Content: kissing, coming out Words: 8257

Links to full fic: Tumblr | AO3

@everybodyshusband 45 days later... you're welcome x

Read below, or on AO3!

Rain and Dew awoke the next morning, totally alone for the first time. Their packmates were nowhere to be seen; either in the nest with them or camping on a bedroll nearby. In the cosy solitude of the morning though, far from watching eyes, Dew somehow felt more exposed than ever.

They had barely moved during the night, and Dew found himself still half on top of the water ghoul beneath him with his head pillowed by his chest. It was slowly rising and falling with Rain's breathing, and Dew felt like he was being rocked back to sleep. He went to raise his head and saw Rain already watching him through half open eyes. Suddenly feeling awkward and acutely aware of just how bare Rain's torso was, as well as how he was practically straddling one of his thighs, Dew tried to move from his position.

Unfortunately, or not, the water ghoul didn't seem willing to release him. His arms pulled him back into his previous position, and his tail twined around one of Dew's legs, the spade at its end just reaching the hem of his pyjama pants and worming underneath to stroke against the fire ghoul's calf. Happily resigned to his fate, Dew returned his head to its previous cool pillow and relished in the sound of Rain's low purr rumbling to life.

“Warm.” The water ghoul croaked out, releasing him and moving a hand to stroke through Dew's hair as soon as it became clear he wasn't going anywhere after all. Dew leaned into his touch, the feeling of cold fingers on his scalp so satisfying that he felt like he was floating away from his body. He held on tight before he could drift too far.

Whether they fell back to sleep or not, Dew couldn't be sure. All he knew was the next time he opened his eyes, the light filtering through his tiny window that faced an interior courtyard was much brighter than before, as the sun rose above the top of the building and peered in at the two ghouls. This time when he wriggled to better look at Rain, the water ghoul didn't stop him.

“Mornin’.” Dew whispered sleepily, his voice cracking and making him sound uncannily like a frog. This caused Rain to giggle, and the tickling caused by his shaking set Dew off in turn.

The pair's silliness seemed to feed off the hazy atmosphere in the room, feeling like they were drifting untethered from reason and consequence as they dissolved into fresh fits of laughter. In Rain's distraction, Dew squirmed free of his grip and up to be closer to his eye level. It was only once he was there, that he realised their situation was now far, far more dangerous for his fragile self control than before. Now at eye level with Rain, Dew found the water ghoul's face only millimetres from his own on the pillow, their noses almost touching. He could feel the huffs of his breaths tickling against his cheeks, which he was sure were as flushed as Rain's were.

“Did you sleep well?” Dew finally managed to speak both clearly, and between his own laughter and caught breaths. He was sure he would have woken if Rain had had another nightmare, and his joyful behaviour certainly implied that he hadn't, but he needed to check for his own sanity.

“Of course,” Rain grinned at him, “I had a hot water bottle all night.”

His arms, now looped over Dew's waist next to him briefly gripped him tighter for effect. Whether it was simply the closeness, or the slight edge of possessiveness in the way Rain held him with his large hands pressed against his lower back, fingertips grazing his hip bones, Dew couldn't have said. All he knew was he instinctively pressed himself all the closer to Rain's body, stuttering a breath as he felt his whole body flush hot. Mortified at his reaction to such a small action, Dew desperately tried to play it off.

“Like that?” He said with a weak chuckle. “I see why you wanted to sleep in here with me, now.”

Rain tilted his head forward, until their foreheads were touching. He whispered his next words so close it was as though he spoke them directly into Dew's mouth.

“You know it's not just that.”

Dew nodded against him, drawing in another ragged breath. He felt an almost magnetic pull to the water ghoul; like they would never be close enough until every centimetre of them that possibly could be touching was. Despite this, he forced his forehead away from Rain's so he could once again look him in his swirling blue eyes. The pure affection he saw there hit him like a slap in the face. He felt the strange tug again, this time starting as a buzzing in his lips, begging him to close the final distance and press them against Rain's. It would be so easy, given how close they already were. Just a few more millimetres, and he could have the very thing he had been dreaming about. There was no doubt in his mind that Rain wanted the same thing: the almost desperate intensity of his gaze pleaded with him to cross the gap between them that seemed both negligible and utterly insurmountable at the same time.

Without breaking eye contact, Dew leaned in just a bit closer, psyching himself up to make the final move. Rain's eyes fluttered closed in anticipation before Dew was suddenly hit with a wave of anxiety. He couldn't place the exact reason behind it, but it sent him lurching back as he saw Rain's eyes snap open in panic. Dew tried to tamp down the disappointment he felt burning in him, that was mirrored in Rain's own conflicted expression of hurt and concern.

“I'm sorry.” he stuttered out, as much to himself as to Rain. He had come so close to taking what he wanted when it had ostensibly been handed to him on a plate, and yet he still couldn't do it. As though he sensed Dew was about to start spiralling, Rain shot out a hand to grasp Dew's in his. He let him pull away from the rest of their embrace but the simple touch of his hand kept Dew grounded and from running away to hide in shame.

Miraculously, Dew was able to calm his breathing again shortly after. Rain's eyes still hadn't left his face, searching for any indication of what was racing through his mind. He didn't know what had come over him other than an intense feeling of uncertainty. It had been clear to him, he had thought, that Rain had wanted the same as him and yet how could he be certain of that? Dew needed to hear confirmation directly from the lips he so badly wanted to kiss in order to put his uncertainties to bed.

“Talk first.” Dew whispered, squeezing Rain's hand. Rain squeezed back; maybe all hope wasn't lost. He knew enough about Dewdrop and his many insecurities by now to recognise that this wasn't a rejection; it was simply a not-just-yet.

“We can talk.” Rain promised, at the same time as his stomach loudly rumbled in protest at their delayed breakfast.  He looked down at his bare torso with a pout, as though the interruption had been purposeful. Dew couldn't help but chuckle at his put-out expression, everything the water ghoul did was unabashedly cute; he was surely going to be the death of him.

“Breakfast, then back to our spot at the lake?” Dew suggested, quietly. The open expanse of the outdoors felt like a less threatening space for their important conversation, better than his room where he was afraid the walls – or possibly the ghoulettes lurking on the other side of them – could overhear. Rain nodded enthusiastically, and gave Dew's hand a final squeeze before releasing him so they could scramble their way out of the nest.

When they emerged into the common room, Rain clinging to Dew's hand again, they were met by stares from all four ghoulettes and a sudden, conspicuous silence. As Dew bustled around the small kitchen making tea and scouting for anything suitable to eat, he could feel all four pairs of eyes – in addition to Rain's – following his every move.

“What are you planning?” He asked, suspicious.

“Nothing, dear Dewdrop,” Cumulus trilled, “don't you worry your pretty little head about us!”

Dew scowled playfully, making Rain giggle. He had finally released Dew upon seeing that he was rather hindering his progress at foraging breakfast for them, and now was content to hover and watch.

In anticipation of a possible swimming lesson, Dew had chosen a tighter shirt than normal to avoid being dragged down by loose, wet fabric. He knew the easier option would be to eschew the item altogether, but he didn't think he was quite ready yet, especially if other ghouls decided to crash their day at the lake again. As he felt Rain's gaze boring a hole in his back, he felt reassured in his decision. That kind of intensity was not something he thought he was used to.

Rain, meanwhile, was perfectly content to trail behind Dew as he pottered back and forth. He couldn't stop staring at Dew; his unusually tight choice of clothing today revealing a figure that he normally hid behind layers of dark and baggy fabric. His wall of blond hair tantalisingly grazed his lower back as it flowed behind him, highlighting the curve of his spine. Peeking out from the pale curtain were his prominent shoulder blades, sharp and purposefully carved. In a lustful confusion, Rain was almost salivating as every urge told him to bite.

He was briefly freed from the whirlpool of emotions Dew inspired in him as he turned to face him, removing the distracting subject of his gaze from view. Rain was soon wishing he would turn back around again though, as he was faced with a view of Dewdrop entirely unimpeded by his hair. Rain's eyes wandered beneath his angular, exquisitely sculpted face which currently wore an amused and knowing expression, to the small roll of his tummy jutting out above his waistband. Dew had always been slim, and Rain had heard about just how painfully skinny he had been when he was taken in, starving, by the pack. This tiny sign of the care he had received over the last few years drove Rain slightly mad. He ached to see just how much of his waist he could encircle in his own long fingers, pressing his thumbs into that soft layer over his stomach and running them through the pale and undoubtedly soft hair below his navel.

Rain forced his eyes shut and tilted his chin up, to make sure he re-opened to them to Dew's face. He imagined the flush he saw there was reflected in his own. Dew raised an eyebrow, a smirk pulling at the corner of his mouth, and Rain had the grace to at least look slightly guilty at being caught ogling him. There was a time and a place to act on his thoughts, he thought. That time was after they had properly spoken about the almost-kiss of the morning – providing that conversation went the way Rain hoped it would – and the place was not in the middle of the Den, with four ghoulettes smirking at him like the cats that caught the canaries.

“Wanna take this to-go?” Saving him from further embarrassment, Dew gestured at the now brewed tea, and plates of toasted bread and fruit on the counter.

Rain nodded dumbly.

The ghoulettes watched as Dew gathered up everything and shuffled quickly out of the Den, Rain traipsing along behind him. They waited until they heard Dew’s door close again before falling into peals of laughter.

“So, do you think anything happened last night?” cackled Sunshine.

“We definitely heard them sneaking out, and getting back hours later.” Mist added.

“They’re better at hiding it than I thought, if so.” Cumulus looked mildly impressed at the idea.

Cirrus simply rolled her eyes at the rest of her pack; it wasn’t often they were handed something as juicy as this to speculate over, but she was sure Dew and Rain would be just fine without their interference.

One room over from where Rain and Dewdrop were purposely sitting a very respectful distance apart to eat their breakfast, Mountain was slowly waking up. At some point during the night, Swiss had rolled over to face him, his face now buried in the crook of Mountain’s neck. He sounded so peaceful, his breathing slow and deep, quite the opposite of how panicked he had looked the night before. Mountain couldn’t think what had caused him to come knocking, but it had clearly spooked him badly.

Selfishly the earth ghoul had been delighted to have him back in his arms, even if it was just for one night. The bed had felt empty and cold without him, in a way that was completely unexpected given how unfamiliar he was with sharing his space. Mountain had always valued his alone time, needing a break from his pack to recharge from time to time, but somehow Swiss didn’t seem to count in that regard.

Checking that Swiss really was soundly asleep, Mountain pressed a kiss to the top of his head. If he was being selfish, he was going to do it properly; commit to playing make-believe that they were two happily mated ghouls waking as they did every morning. Next on his personal agenda therefore was to provide for him. So, with great care not to disturb the sleeping ghoul, Mountain disentangled himself to pad to the common room in search of breakfast. If he was lucky, he could return with it before Swiss woke.

He didn’t like the thought that whatever had upset him the previous night may still remain, and that he was abandoning Swiss when he had clearly come seeking company. Equally though, he knew he had to get out of there before he fell too deep into his own fantasy. He was additionally relieved that he could avoid having to explain the intimate position in which they woke, in case that hadn't been Swiss’ intention. Mountain didn't think he was quite ready to address his feelings yet, especially not to the very subject of them. When the whole pack had been crammed into one bed, there was the implicit excuse of limited space but now, with acres of mattress surrounding them, that excuse would not hold. Quickly he plodded down the hallway to gather them a breakfast, the common room thankfully empty.

Swiss was just beginning to stir, reaching out to pet at the warm, but empty, spot where Mountain had been laying, when he returned from the common room.

“I'm right here,” the earth ghoul laughed quietly, setting the tray of food down on the bedside table and getting back into bed, only sat up against the headboard, “I brought us breakfast.”

Swiss rolled onto his side to look at Mountain through sleep bleary eyes. He had the sudden urge to put his head in the earth ghoul's lap and demand he play with his hair. Instead, he also wriggled into an upright position beside him, and accepted the offered teacup. As they sat there in comfortable silence taking synchronised sips of the hot drink, Swiss couldn't quite suppress the giggle that bubbled up and escaped his lips at just how much like an old married couple they were acting.

The peaceful quiet lasted until their teacups were empty and all the food had been eaten.

“Thanks for letting me join you last night,” Swiss looked up at Mountain, the gratitude clear in his eyes, “sorry I just kind of… appeared.”

“Don’t be,” the earth ghoul hummed, “are you alright, though? Want to talk about it?” Mountain didn’t want to push him to talk, but even in the dark it had been clear to him that Swiss wasn’t in a good way.

“It was the room,” sighed Swiss, “the stone walls… It reminded me of the cell Rain was kept in.” He shuddered involuntarily, and Mountain put an arm around his shoulder pulling him into his side without even thinking about it, needing to give him comfort.

“Do you,” he started shyly, steeling himself for rejection, “do you maybe want to stay in here with me instead? Permanently?”

Swiss was so glad he didn’t have to ask, and not just because he couldn’t stand to be in that cold prison of a room; he was more than happy to have Mountain all to himself at night.

“Are you okay with that?” He asked, not wanting Mountain to feel pressured into giving up his privacy. “I know you like your space.”

“Not from you.” Mountain almost whispered into his hair.

Swiss leaned his head on Mountain’s muscular shoulder, that was at the perfect height for him.

“Thank you.” He breathed back. Mountain tilted his own head to rest on top of Swiss’ with a low purr.

It was a while before they moved again, with no real plans for the day to motivate them to venture out of the warm nest. Now that they had decided to stay at the Abbey, Mountain wanted to have a chat with the earth ghoulette Delphinia at some point to accept her offer to work in the greenhouses. However, he could clearly sense that Swiss was still feeling a bit lost about his new role here, and was especially fragile after last night, so that could wait. For today, he would stick with Swiss and see where the day took them.

Eventually, they wandered back out to the common room to see if anyone was still around. They found Aether sipping tea, leaned against the counter. The deep purple bags beneath his eyes were finally fading, noted Mountain, and the quintessence ghoul looked well-rested for the first time in weeks.

“Morning Aeth.” Mountain nodded, startling him slightly as they entered.

“Hello you two, sleep well?” If Aether had any questions about their sleeping arrangements last night, he was tactful enough not to say anything.

“Not too bad in the end,” Swiss shrugged, “got any plans for the day?”

Aether shook his head.

“Nothing yet.”

“Us neither.”

“Any signs of life from Dew and Rain?” Mountain asked, unsure if they were going to rise even later than them, or if they had already been and gone from the common room.

“I saw Sunshine just now, she said she heard them leave the Den already,” said Aether, “so they’re probably at the lake for the morning.”

Rain and Dew had not been at the lake for long before they were interrupted by their packmates arrival.

As they got to the pier that Dew was already thinking of as theirs, Rain had done as he wanted to the night before and plunged straight in, unable to hold back. The water was still cold, but the sun was warm, so it was nothing like as bad as it had seemed last night. Almost as soon as he hit the water, he remembered that he had promised Dew he would start teaching him to swim today, so he clambered back out again until the fire ghoul was ready to start.

Dew was sat with his legs overhanging the edge of the dock, swirling his feet through the water and staring into the dark ripples Rain had left behind, psyching himself up.

“We’ll walk in, to start with,” Rain pointed out, “make sure you can still touch the bottom. So, waist deep for me.” He grinned at his poor joke, hoping to dissuade Dew’s nerves. It seemed to work, as his tense shoulders slowly bean to slip down from his ears. Rain continued chattering at him about nothing, while they both admired the sparkle of the sun off the lake’s surface.

The relative calm of the bubble they were existing in was shattered when they heard the sounds of three pairs of boots clattering along the dock towards them, accompanied by the voices of their packmates. Dew flopped onto his back in frustration at their not-unexpected interruption, and Rain growled slightly before twisting and diving back into the water.

Since his mission with Dew was now clearly on hold, maybe he could find another little gift for him at the bottom of the lake. He had spotted the shell he gave him the other day taking pride of place on Dew’s nightstand, its glistening silvery surface the only decoration against the bare wood of the room. Even if Dew wasn't one for decoration – and judging from his room back at their farmhouse that was possible – Rain certainly was. He'd lost his collection of pretty trinkets gathered over the last year, and building up a new one excited him. Besides, the small window in their room was crying out for a rainbow crystal, or five, to scatter the morning sunshine around in a play of a thousand colours.

On the pier the three new arrivals sat down around Dew making themselves comfortable, and he quicky realised that his much-awaited talk with Rain was clearly going to have to wait a bit longer. Swiss had finally brought his guitar out, the first Dew had seen of it since they left their village, and he set about tuning it carefully after its long journey. Dew was grateful he had brought it after all, one of the few bits of his advice the others had taken, besides evacuating, as he knew how much joy making music brought the multi ghoul. Especially with that specific guitar: as far as Dew was aware, it was the only one he had ever owned, being dragged around from place to place with him his whole life.

Swiss began tentatively picking out a tune, revelling in the way even the quiet notes soared across the lake. Rain bobbed back up to the surface, and propelled himself over to join the others sat listening on the warm wooden planks. As Swiss' muscle memory kicked back in and his strumming grew more confident, Mountain started tapping out a beat for him on the decking, as he had always done on whatever variety of percussive pots and pans were around their home before. It felt so familiar, sat in a circle like this listening to Swiss play the melodies they had heard a hundred times before.

The sun beamed down from overhead, and before too long they heard the patter of more footsteps as Sunshine skipped towards them clutching a tambourine, Cirrus and Cumulus in tow. Happily, the ghouls made space for them to join their little circle and before long they were humming along with him, their higher voices harmonising perfectly. The Abbey choir practices Dew fondly remembered may have fizzled out over the years, but their love for singing clearly had not. For the first time, Swiss saw a real future here at the Abbey; he had his pack, new friends, and maybe in time he really could make a go of this music thing with Copia.

Eventually, their music faded out until Swiss was just plucking absently at the guitar strings while the others listened quietly. Rain had led Dew by the hand back along the pier to paddle in the shallows and help him become acclimatise to the feel of the water, while the rest of the ghouls were tried to pretend that they weren't intensely fascinated by them.

“You wouldn't think that was the same Dewdrop, would you,” Cirrus mused aloud, as a peal of carefree laughter rang out at something inaudible Rain had said, “he's a totally different ghoul to the timid little scrap he was when he was first here. Maybe if he'd been here a bit longer things might have improved some, but whatever you've done has made him blossom.”

“He's changed a lot, just recently,” Aether pointed out, “Something about everything that happened with Rain seems to have shaken him up completely.”

Cirrus hummed in acknowledgement.

“Still, I need to thank you lot for taking care of him. We were so worried when he left before, we had no idea how he'd survive out on his own again. Our premonitions stopped after he got too far away from us.”

None of the ghouls really knew what to say: Swiss hadn't even been there when the others found Dew, and neither Aether nor Mountain thought they had done anything exceptional when it came to helping Dew. It couldn't even be said that Dew's opening up was wholly due to Rain's presence, as he had been his usual defensive self around him right up until recently.

Before they could think any further on Dew's night-to-day shift in attitude towards the water ghoul, Swiss suddenly clutched his forehead and winced as another one of his visions hit him. As they had all been recently, it felt fragmented, only showing him individual puzzle pieces. The others looked at him in concern.

“I’m fine, I’m fine,” Swiss waved his other hand in casual dismissal, “it’s just another vision.”

“Are they still not back to normal?” Mountain asked, concerned. Swiss shook his head.

“Not since a few days out from here. They’re still all bitty and disjointed, and there’s so many faces I don’t recognise. I’m used to getting only a few complete ones about the pack.”

Cirrus and Cumulus exchanged a look.

“Is air one of your dominant elements?” Cirrus asked.

“I guess, why?”

Cumulus smiled sympathetically.

“Welcome to the hive. Pure air ghouls get lots of snatches of the future, both their own, and bits and pieces of each other’s according to our own particular strengths. Then we share what we see and sort it out in a kind of swarm. Your proximity to all of us here has probably got you tangled up with the rest of us air ghouls. It’s not that you’re in a pack of a hundred now, but there are probably a dozen new threads of consciousness passing through you here!”

Swiss still looked confused.

“So I’ll get visions about everyone now?”

Cirrus shook her head placatingly.

“We can bring you to the next swarm, we’re due one soon. There you can get a feel for everyone’s energy and you’ll be able to sort your own visions out again. Swarms are an old defence tactic from when we used to get hunted by other ghoul clans. We can combine our premonitions together to get a full picture of the future rather than the snippets we get personally.”

“A new ghoul just shakes up the balance a bit,” added Cumulus, “I can see pretty complete pictures usually, but when I saw Dew and you all coming back here, it was fuzzy. I guess the wind caught your presence and told you the parts I was missing. The other air ghouls probably felt you too.”

“So things should go back to normal for me?” Swiss asked, shoulders sinking in relief.

“They should do! We can try and help you tune things out in the meantime; if you’ve only ever heard your own before I imagine it’s quite overwhelming. When we swarm it should become easier, and then you'll be able to see your own visions as before, plus share in the collective ones of us Abbey air ghouls.”

Swiss had never realised how similar his premonitions were to pure air ghouls before. Somehow, having this in common with them here made him feel less alone, like he could fit with a community in the same way his packmates were quickly meshing with their elemental peers. The only other multi ghoul he had met here so far was Sunshine, and she seemed to be especially close to the fire ghouls, closer than Dew even appeared to care to be. Maybe he wasn’t such an outsider, and had a place here after all.

Down at the water’s edge, Rain was slowly leading Dew deeper into the water. Rain was facing Dew and the shore, walking backwards holding both of Dew’s hands between them. They were about knee deep by now, and Rain’s tail was flicking with a mind of its own, keen to be fully immersed in the water. It kept splashing both of their sun-warmed thighs with the chilly water as it lashed across the surface, making them squeal at the cold pinpricks.

Dew wasn’t sure what he was hesitant about: the cold was no real issue since he’d already given in and heated the small envelope of water around him. He didn’t even think he was that scared of the water – for as long as he could touch the ground, it was no different to the countless times he had bathed in the river. There was one thought that remained strong in his mind however that was causing at least some of his apprehension: imagining them skinny dipping in the lake at night. The thought from the previous night occupied his mind as he imagined them being so utterly free of inhibitions, disguised by the dark.

As a distraction, he allowed himself to stare at Rain instead; admiring the planes of his shirtless chest that he had seen so many times in the last few days it was beginning to become almost familiar to him. He longed to map out the contours with his fingertips, with his mouth, commit it to memory with all his senses.

Back in the real world, Rain had used his daydreaming to lead him further out, the water now grazing the tops of his thighs.

“It's gonna be cold at first,” the water ghoul warned, “best to just crouch down now and get the worst over with.”

Dew looked at him, sceptical.

“I can count down from three?” Rain suggested. Dew gritted his teeth and nodded sharply.

“Three... Two... One...”

“Fuck!” Screeched Dew as Rain pulled him down into the water. He thrashed around as the water ghoul grinned evilly at him, but he had to admit Rain was right – now he was in up to his chest, the final step of getting his shoulders wet didn't seem as bad.

They continued inching deeper, sticking to the side of the dock so Dew had something he could hold onto if he needed it. It wasn't long until he was neck-deep, the water pulling him up onto his tiptoes as he bobbed around in it, his hair that he had failed to tie up beforehand floating around his shoulders. This was only a little bit deeper than he'd been before, and he realised the buoyant feeling of the water was actually very comfortable and secure, when he paid attention to it.

“You doing alright?” Rain smiled encouragingly. “Do you want to try floating?”

Nodding apprehensively, Dew agreed. He knew Rain wouldn't let him come to any harm. Slowly, Rain guided Dew to lean his head back in the water, his hair fanning out around him in a platinum halo.

“I'll support you until you get used to the feeling,” he promised, “it's easy once you get the hang of it.”

Dew nearly backed out of the whole affair when he felt Rain's large hands come to rest on his hips. How was he supposed to concentrate? Rain didn't give him time to start spiralling however, before he was encouraging him to put his arms out and kick his feet up to the surface. He closed his eyes against the bright sun overhead and spread out like a starfish, acutely aware of Rain's hands wide and steady against his lower back.

“That's it,” he cooed to Dew, “try to relax but keep your hips up, and you'll be floating all by yourself!”

Focussing hard on keeping himself afloat, Dew barely noticed when the pressure of Rain's hands grew lesser and lesser, until he was hardly touching him at all. He could see why Rain enjoyed floating around like this, steering himself through the water with his strong tail. The water lapping at the tops of his limbs and side of his face was strangely relaxing, the world quieter with his ears underwater. It was as though nothing outside of the sensation of the water mattered. If it wasn't for the small amount of effort he was still putting into keeping his body afloat, he thought he could have fallen asleep right there.

His peace was shattered when a shadow moved across his face, blocking the faint red light of the sun passing through his closed eyelids.

“Dew? Are you swimming?” a smooth, alto voice laughed incredulously.

Losing his focus and lifting his head to look at Mist looming off the edge of the dock above him, Dew folded in the middle, his hips sinking and the rest of him soon following. He thrashed wildly at the sudden shock of cold as his head also went under but was soon back on his feet and clutching the side of the pier for balance. Rain's large hands also supported him once again as he gained a stable footing, holding him tightly around his waist in a way that made his head spin, and not just from the sharp spike of adrenaline.

“Can I help you?” he snapped, tossing a wet swathe of hair over his shoulder.

“Nah, carry on,” she gave a mock-salute, before rocking back to sit on her heels, “you good today Rain?”

He glared at her silently, his expression clearly saying that he had been doing better before she distracted his student.

Standing back up and sauntering off with a cackle, Mist left them to resume their swimming lesson. It took longer than was strictly necessary for Rain to release Dew again, but by the time they were ready to head back inside for lunch, he could confidently float unaided and was happily swimming around after Rain in some form of a doggy paddle.

They all went their separate ways after lunch.

Cumulus left first, having plans to meet with Cowbell in the stables for tea as she did every week. The ancient ghoul was somewhat shy and found the general ghoul population to be very overwhelming, preferring the company of animals and taking great pride in caring for the Abbey’s horses. Somehow though, the chatty and sweet air ghoulette had worked her way past their shell, and now frequently met with them to trade Abbey gossip. Even if they didn’t always contribute much to the conversation, Cowbell was more than happy to sit and listen to Cumulus. Aether recalled the intriguing ghoul with hoofed feet and tagged along with her, interested to meet them properly.

Swiss and Mountain decided to continue their exploration of the Abbey grounds, this time starting from the lake and continuing round its shores along a well-trodden path next to the tree line. They made quiet conversation as they walked, just enjoying each other’s company. Swiss figured he could get used to afternoons like this; basking in the natural beauty of their surroundings.

Rain and Dew retreated to their room however, Dew making the excuse that he needed to wash the lake water from his hair, hastily tied into a haphazard bun, but really they both knew there was an important conversation that needed to be had. Since their attempt at finding peace by the lake had been throughly disturbed, their room would have to do.

True to his word, Dew had quickly gone into the bathroom to rinse his hair, before combing heated fingers through it as he re-emerged in a fresh but still slightly too-small shirt. He couldn’t deny that he had liked Rain’s attention with the one earlier, and he figured that the slight confidence boost it gave him to have the water ghoul’s eyes wandering appreciatively made the impending conversation feel a lot easier.

Rain had pulled the blankets on the unmade nest up as neatly as he could, settling himself halfway up the bed and leaving Dew plenty of space for however far away he needed to sit from him in order to be comfortable. The fire ghoul didn’t seem to need too much however, as he crawled across the bed to sit cross-legged, matching Rain’s position, with their knees touching.

“I’m sorry for this morning–” Dew started before cutting himself off, eyes fixed on his hands in his lap. He tried again. “I'm not sorry for what happened, or nearly happened. I’m sorry I pulled away. I didn’t mean to confuse you like that. I wanted that, I still do. I want everything with you, but I need you to want it too.” Pausing in his ramblings to take a deep breath, he continued, grateful for Rain’s quiet nature giving him the space he needed to talk freely.

“I still have secrets, about who I am. Who I was.” A part of him internally begged Rain to read between the lines, to make it so that he didn’t need to say it loud. Rain looked nonplussed however, and Dew knew deep down that he had to speak the words out loud for his own sake, and to know that he fully understood what he was saying.

Rain continued staring at him with unwavering affection. He saw Dew’s hands fidgeting in his lap and grasped them in his own, intertwining their fingers and pressing their palms flat together, hot against cold. In another beautiful contrast, Dew’s deep amber eyes finally met Rain’s bright blue ones. They contained only unfiltered adoration.

“You don’t have to say it now, not if it’s too hard. I want you too, I will want you no matter what, and nothing you can say will ever change that.” Rain promised.

Dew was too deep in his own head, steeling himself for the conversation to come, to fully comprehend that Rain had just said, out loud, that his feelings were reciprocated.

“I wasn’t born a ghoul, I was born a ghoulette.” He finally said, words coming out in a rush. Even with the slight surprise running through them as Rain finally understood what Dew meant, his eyes never left Dew’s for a second as they crinkled into a smile. “I hope that won’t change anything, or make you mad that I didn’t say anything sooner or that–”

“Dew.” Rain squeezed his hands, not wanting to interrupt, but also needing to pull him out of his spiral. “Dewdrop.”

Dew finally paused for air.

“My Dewdrop.”

Rain smiled wider at him, pulling their hands into his own lap with nothing but love for the fire ghoul in his heart and words, “I’m so happy you’ve told me, but I need you to know you’ll always be my Dewdrop, nothing can change that.” ‘I’d be this hopelessly in love with any you, in any universe!’ he wanted to scream.

My Dewdrop. Dew thought, a hysterical giggle bubbling up his throat. Whether Rain intended it like that or not, he could get used to hearing it.

In that moment, Rain seemed to take note of what he had said.

“If you want to be, my Dewdrop, that is,” he stuttered out, now the one struggling for words and rambling, “I want you to be. We can take things as slow as you want, I promise I won’t push you. I just want you.”

Rain finally managed to clamp his lips shut, before any more words could slip out, ones that his heart wasn’t ready to spill just yet. He recognised that he was starting to sound like he was begging and desperate, when really it was still Dew’s place to talk and not his to interrupt.

Dew meanwhile was feeling an immense weight lifting off his shoulders that he hadn’t even known he was still carrying, as well as suddenly realising what Rain had said.

“You want me too?” The disbelieving hope in his eyes made Rain smile even more fondly at the ghoul he was starting to realise meant everything to him.

“Of course I do, Dew. More than I need air to breathe, or the sun to rise each day. More than anything.”

Dew leaned in closer to him, as though to check if the ghoul in front of him wasn’t just a hallucination of his desperate mind. He resisted the urge to poke him. Dew's slightly damp hair fell into his eyes as he did so, and Rain raised their still-joined hands to brush it back behind his ear. Rain wriggled his fingers free and gently stroked forward along the sensitive skin he found there, making Dew shiver, until he could cup his jaw in his large palm. He bent forward himself, dipping his head so he was eye level with Dew, although so close that his face was blurry and unfocussed as he whispered millimetres from Dew’s lips.

“My Dewdrop. My beautiful Dewdrop.”

Who made the final move, Dew couldn’t say. All he knew was his gasp at how Rain spoke his name, like addressing a deity, was swallowed up by the press of his cool lips to Dew’s own. Dew had wondered, so many times recently, how Rain’s lips would feel. Nothing could have prepared him for the electrifying spark that passed between them, as though Rain was shocking him with his magic. It was nothing of the sort however, and Dew pressed himself closer to the addicting feeling, slinging his free arm around Rain’s neck to hold him closer and revelling in the sharp intake of breath he drew from the water ghoul as he drunk it directly from Dew’s mouth.

“Rainy,” Dew breathed against him, “all mine. I want all of you. Need it.”

Rain purred, so low it was almost a growl, at the possessive nature of Dew’s words as the fire ghoul set about clambering into his lap. He lowered his hands to rest on Dew’s hips and steady him as he continued kissing him with abandon, like a man starved.

“You can have me,” he gasped out when Dew broke away for air, “my body, my soul; it’s all yours.”

The noise Dew made could almost have been a sob, were he not still suppressing a smile behind his kisses. Both his arms were slung over Rain’s shoulders, almost as haphazard and carefree as the movement of their mouths against each other. Any of their usual gracefulness was long gone, replaced by the messy clacking of teeth and fangs as all of the pent-up longing fought its way to the surface. Despite the raging inferno of lust they had unleashed, their movements were still punctuated by euphoric giggles, the pair lightheaded and giddy with want.

Rain was sure their kisses were far too wet to be attractive but Dew didn’t seem to care, and he certainly didn’t either. He relished in the glide of their lips, at both the slick noises they made, as well as the myriad little sounds Dew was subconsciously producing. Each breathy little sigh and moan sent Rain slightly more insane, coupled with the way Dew’s slender fingers walked patterns up and down his back, clenching at his shirt and combing through the back of his hair. He was sure it was the hottest thing he'd ever experienced.

He thought Dew must feel the same, as his whole body burned warmer and warmer until Rain thought he could feel trails of fire along his skin wherever they touched. His hands, still gripping to Dew's hips like a lifeboat in a storm, felt like they were on fire. Rain thought he would be fine if his fingerprints melted off, if it meant he got to hold Dew a second longer.

The fire ghoul was still in that goddamn skin-tight shirt, looking criminally attractive to Rain as he fought against every thread of his being that itched to slide his hands beneath it and feel Dew’s scorching skin directly, craving his warmth. At the way he tensed as Rain instinctually ran his hands up and down his sides, grazing the small patch of skin between the hem of his shirt and the waistband of his shorts, Rain’s hands stilled. He knew he needed to be careful and let Dew lead the way, desperate not to push his boundaries as Rain battled his own raging desire. Looking at Dew, the way his topaz eyes sparkled at him with his pupils blown wide, he got the message to carry on with his slow, cautious movements.

Rain’s cool hands were slowly driving Dew mad, he was sure. He had shivered slightly at their temperature at first, but the more Rain held him, as though he were a sacred object to be worshipped, his hands had warmed up. The thought that he was transferring some of himself to the water ghoul, even in the tiniest, most insignificant way, made him want more, crave it even. He needed every inch of Rain’s skin to cling onto his warmth, his name to fall from his plush lips, even in the most feral parts of him, he needed Rain to smell of him. He murmured words to that effect into Rain’s ear, and Rain practically groaned in response. Dew felt himself flush even warmer, practically burning up with the new feelings and want that consumed him as he pressed himself closer to Rain.

Afraid he was beginning to lose his mind, and fearful of also losing the tenuous control he had over his desperate hands, Rain flopped onto his back. He pulled Dew down with him, the startled fire ghoul catching himself on his hands and bracing himself above him. Dew hovered with his face directly above Rain, his hair falling around them like curtains separating them from the rest of the world as he leaned down to kiss him again.

From Dew's new position, he could see the way Rain stared up at him like an angel here for the Rapture. He certainly felt like a divine being, as he was suddenly thrust into control. It was clear Rain was waiting for him to guide them forward, to signal what he was and wasn't comfortable with through his own actions. Gently lowering himself down onto Rain's chest, he picked up the water ghoul's empty hands and placed them back on his waist, before tangling his own into Rain's dark waves. As Rain had done to him that morning, he lightly scratched his fingers along his scalp, drawing a purr from his chest that made Dew's own body shake with the vibrations. He felt his lips almost buzzing as he pressed them to Rain's again.

After what felt like hours of them trying to memorise the feel of each other's lips, learn the taste of each other's mouths, their deep kisses turned to sleepy, chaste ones snatched in-between whispered sweet nothings. The sun outside was beginning to set, bathing the whole room in a thousand shades of orange to match Dew's eyes.

Dew figured they must have fallen asleep eventually, although he had no memory of wanting to, as it was the middle of the night when he next woke. The room was in near darkness, lit only by the moon outside as he woke on Rain's chest. His stirring also roused the water ghoul, who instantly started nuzzling into his hair. This was it, Dew realised. This was what he had been dreaming about for what felt like a lifetime, but was in reality barely a few weeks. Rain seemed to be thinking the same, as he held Dew close and breathed in his scent. Dew chittered softly at him, reassuring him that it hadn't been a dream, everything was real.

Laying in the dark, still navigating their way back to reality, Dew quickly came to realise two things: firstly, they were still fully dressed, even down to their socks and secondly; they had completely missed dinner. His stomach agreed with that assessment, growling in protest having gotten used to the veritable feasts available to them here. Dew moved to rest his chin instead of his cheek on Rains chest, looking up at him from his strange angle to catch his eye and found the water ghoul staring back at him fondly.

“Midnight snack raid on the kitchen?” Dew suggested, loath to move but getting hungrier the longer he lay there.

“Can’t I just eat you?” Rain asked cheekily, craning his neck and making little snapping motions at Dew’s horns. His own stomach had other ideas though, as it rumbled in agreement with Dew’s suggestion. He let his head fall back to the pillow in defeat as Dew slowly rolled off of him and groggily got to his feet. As Rain watched the fire ghoul stretch his arms above his head, his already cropped shirt rose up higher and Rain licked his lips: maybe he was hungry after all.

Finally they made it to the common room, tiptoeing long the corridor while trying not to wake their packmates with their hushed giggles and whispers. Immediately they found a plate of food set aside for them on the counter, with a note that was clearly written by one of the ghoulettes. As well as their names, the drawing of a heart and several ‘x’ kisses felt rather pointed.

When they did ultimately make it into bed for real, bellies full and changed into pyjamas, the pair fell asleep almost immediately. Comfortable in each others arms, they were both as happy as they could recall ever being.

[leggerefiore]

A silly idea for MerMay:

You get gifted a bottle of perfume that contains ambergris (a substance that comes from sperm whales) and decide to try it. How would it affect merfolk?

It would be funny if different species had different reactions from smelling it. For one species, they might think this means you’ve been marked/scented by another merfolk already, but another smell it and think it’s like a distress signal.

And (of course) one species immediately assumes it’s a pheromone signaling fertility, because of course it does.

cw: sexual mentions in Grimsley's section, pokehybrid au, mermen,

characters: Emmet, Volo, Grimsley, Ingo

▽Eelektross Emmet△

○ As Eelektross would likely have to produce a similar substance due to how they can eat many indigestible things, his first thought is that a pokemon has eaten you and, hopefully, vomited you back up. There's likely been horror stories about Wailords accidentally doing so.

○ Expect him to awkwardly sniff you over before pulling you tightly into a hug and looking around as if something were coming to attack you. After he manages to calm down from his momentary panic slightly, Emmet asks if you experienced something life changing with a cetacean recently, obvious distressed still. You turn to him with a confused expression and reply you have not.

○ “Darling, you smell like a digestive fluid,” he whispers like whatever supposedly ate you and somehow erased your memory lingered nearby. You pull away from him with bold laughter, staring at the worried Eelektross hybrid with a hysterical expression. His yellow patches of flesh glowed with light electricity, obviously ready to protect you.

○ “I think that's the best yet worst way someone has ever said my perfume stinks,” you told him. Emmet gasped. He was now pondering why humans would spray digestive fluid on themselves. A defence mechanism? He could not be sure. “... Ah, it's the ambergris in it, isn't it? That's why you think I got swallowed by a Wailord,” you realised.

○ Emmet really wasn't a fan of the perfume, alas. He is still not completely certain it was not some human defence mechanism against marine life.

💫Milotic Volo📜

⭐️ Milotic hybrids also recognise it as a digestive fluid scent, not as they contain it themselves, but as when Wailord drops happen in the deeper parts of the ocean, the scent mixes in with the stench of death. That is why he hops onto a similar concern that you were eaten by a Wailord (or, much to an improbable horror, an Eelektross). Well, until he recalls how the scent would cling to Mistress Cogita, too.

⭐️ He likely tugs you into the water and pulls you under with him, whether you are in swimming attire or not, to wash off the heavy scent from you. The ambergris overpowered whatever scent the perfume was actually meant to be in his senses. You likely are confused by the sudden embrace and dip into the ocean, but let it happen, as Volo wasn't exactly know to be easily evaded.

⭐️ He places you back on the shore and gives you an icy glare, a reminder that he preferred to take the siren route rather than be a beautiful, helpful water visage. “That perfume you wore,” he explained, “Smelled like someone vomited on you.” You gasped. His harsh words stung, and he obviously took note as he reached out to grab you. “It was the ambergris in it, not whatever sugar sweet delicacy or floral and herby notes it claimed it had,” he corrected himself, feeling admittedly a bit guilty about upsetting you.

⭐️ “... You still manage to be the evil fish I first met,” you sighed and leaned against him. Water dripped from you. You pressed your face into his nape as he took to floating in the water with you on top of him, golden hair floating behind him beautifully. “You don't like that scent?” you asked him, unsure as to why he had strong opinions. His face scrunched up as he had to explain his preferred krill had been coated in it for a while due to a picky Eelektross. You laughed.

⭐️ You have to take a bath in the ocean if you wear it around him. He claims it gives him a headache and bad memories associated with a certain bite mark on the upper part of his tail.

♠️Sharpedo Grimsley❤️

♤ Sharpedo hybrids, unfortunately, are the ones who take it as a horny thing. Grimsley approaches the shore where you sat to greet him with an odd smile on his lips. You thought little of it until he grabbed your wrist and pulled you into the water, swimming away from the shore as fast as he could. It was mostly deserted, but there were one or two people who took notice of the “Shark Attack” and freaked out over you being whisked away, assumably to be eaten.

♡ This was not so uncommon for Grimsley, as there were times he grew tired of humans asking him endless questions about his species. That and he enjoyed a good thrill, and there was nothing like having someone try to “rescue” you from a terrifying man-eating hybrid. When you end up far away from the shore, he slows down and leans over you.

◇ “Oh, man, I didn't think normal humans had a mating season,” his voice was teasing, “You must have wanted to gamble whether I would take you on the beach or not.” You gazed at him with a confused expression, causing him to also grow a bit confused. You obviously had come to him reeking of pheromones to mate, right? He didn't understand why you looked so confused. “You are emitting pheromones,” Grimsley told you boldly.

♧ “... My perfume makes Sharpedos horny, got it,” you said to yourself and him, causing him to nearly lose his grasp on you. His mouth fell open, exposing his sharpened teeth for a moment before it closed. You sighed, “Uh, I think unless flowers have this effect on you, it was probably the ambergris, right?” Grimsley felt even more horrified at your words. Had he been aroused by the scent of Wailord digestive fluids? It… It was honestly not the worst thing that had got him hard.

♤ Grimsley demands you wear it whenever you meet for a night together. In fact, he requests the bottle itself for unknown reasons.

bonus joke:

▲Incomplete Eelektross Ingo▼

● You had entered his office to bring the humanoid fish man a surprise lunch. It was admittedly all run-of-the-mill for you two. A kiss and light conversation were expected, but not him suddenly pulling you into his chest while breathing heavily. You could feel even his gills pulsing on his chest. What had brought out this sudden behavioural shift in him?

● You tried to pull away, but he only held you tighter. The scent that came from you was familiar to Ingo. Something that he knew from his time in the water. His brain rushed with terrifying scenarios of a visit to a beach turning into you getting claimed by some horrifying fish hybrid. What if you loved them more than him, as they were proper hybrids unlike him?

● “D-dearest,” he stuttered out, gazing deeply into your eyes, “Did another hybrid claim you?” Your heart had clenched at his pathetic tone before bleeding into complete confusion. Claimed? By another hybrid? You certainly did not recall anything like that, and you told him just that. “You smell of another hybrid!” he cried, burying his face into your shirt. You realised then.

● “Ingo, that's my perfume,” you corrected him, “I think it had ambergris in it.” He turned his head up to you before going back to take another sniff of your shirt. His face was stiffer than it even usually was as the gears turned in his head. Soon, he politely released you and walked back to his desk, where he hung his head in shame. As much as you wanted to giggle at his overreaction, you felt a bit bad seeing him in such a state.

● Ingo politely requests you not wear it around him, too embarrassed about the reaction he had to it. He will never forgive himself for mistaking a digestive fluid for a mating smell.

[cloverthebarbearian]

Secret Meetings (P.1)

Uktar x GN!Tav 3,380 words (Suggestive not explicit) (P.2, P.3)

Tav's tongue ran down his exposed skin as far as his clothes allowed, before trailing kisses back up his neck, nibbling his ear as he ran his hand from their hair down their spine. "I wish I could kiss you," Tav sighed. "You know why you can't," Uktar muttered in response, wrapping his hands around the small of their back, pulling them closer. They felt his hands creep under their top, warm and welcome against their bare skin. "What if I promised to keep my eyes closed," they teased, nuzzling their nose against him. He let out a gentle laugh. "Not good enough, Sweetness," Uktar ran his hand up their spine, reveling in the touch of their bodies together.

Dusk was fast approaching, threatening storm clouds of grey and blue rolling across the horizon. The evening air was welcome in the busy streets of Wyrm's Crossing. That crisp and haunting chill of promised rain tickling Tav's skin as they approached Sharess' Caress. The familiar warmth of the brothel greeted them when they opened the front door, heady incense wafting through the air.

"Hello, Darling!" Mamzell Amira strolled elegantly from behind her workspace to give Tav a friendly hug, kissing both cheeks in greeting, "How was the trek today?"

"Nothing special, Mam," Tav removed the cloak draped across their shoulders and handed the Mamzell their outerwear to check in behind the counter, "Looks like a storms approaching. Lots of travelers needing rooms tonight, good for business I bet?"

Amira tutted playfully, "And what better way to shield from a storm than the warm embrace of a beautiful stranger, hm?"

She practically floated as she moved about the lobby, "Same room as always, dear?" she called to Tav while working through the Caress' room keys.

"Yes, Mam," Tav replied, "Everything cleaned and prepped I take it?"

"Of course, darling," Mamzell Amira handed them their room key. Just as Tav was about to take it, the Mamzell yanked it back, eyeing their patron playfully, "You know, I'm rather curious who this mysterious little client of yours is."

Tav rolled their eyes with a grin, "I'm sure you are Mamzell, but I've made it very clear they've requested discretion. You know how many powerful individuals come around here requiring silence, often times for our own safety."

Mamzell Amira pouted, "Oh, I know darling. But I can't help that my mind wanders. They're so mysterious! No one's even caught a glimpse of them, the way they manage to sneak in and out with such ease," she sighed, glancing at Tav again before handing them their key in earnest, "Well, I suppose as long as you feel safe and I get paid, that's all that matters," she waved Tav off nonchalantly, "Have fun, dear."

Tav took the key with a smile, a light blush creeping across their cheeks, "I always do, Mam."

Tav locked the bedroom door after checking the room thoroughly. All their standard requests were abided, as usual. Fresh water, sweet wine, and a small fruit and bread platter set up on the tea table. The inset stone bath was full and warm, their closet stocked with clean robes, fresh clothes, and warm towels. A few simple toys and tools by the bedside, in case the mood struck them.

No poison in the wine, no assassins hiding in any unlit corners. Old habits die hard.

They took a deep breath and unlocked the door to the balcony, leaving it open a crack and placing a small wedge of wood in the frame as a stopper. The wind of the incoming storm brought in a bit of mist and drizzle, and Tav shivered. They turned to the bath and began discarding their clothes, submerging their tired feet into the hot water with a sigh. They walked to the center of the large tub and sat down, curling their knees to their chest and closing their eyes as the hot water soaked into their aching bones.

And now they wait.

The waiting was always hardest. They never knew when he'd arrive. He's never missed a date so far, though there have been times he hadn't shown until the morning sun was already teasing the horizon. Tav's only knowledge he had even come at all from feeling him slip into bed to hold them as they slept, and a note left behind by their pillow when they finally woke.

They watched the steam rise from the tub as they listened to the rain. It was coming down steadier now. Rolling thunder echoed in the distance. They began wondering if he'd show up at all tonight, what with an impending storm fast approaching. This was supposed to be casual, and technically all just business. But they'd be lying if they said their heart didn't sink at the idea of a night without him.

They tipped their head back, submerging themselves completely in the heated pool. Their hair wisped around them as they gazed at the ceiling through the haze of water. The rhythmic thumping of their pulse in their ears acting as a metronome, counting seconds as they waited. Seconds that felt like minutes as they held their breath.

A muffled bump shook them from their trance, bolting upright and cresting the water with a deep breath of cool air. They stared at the balcony door, eyes wide and body crouched as if ready to pounce before registering who was causing the racket.

Uktar stood drenched in the open doorway, the earlier drizzles having turned into torrential downpour. Sheets of rain crashed like waves as he fought with the door against the wind. A comparative silence followed the slamming wood as he stood with his back against the door, chest heaving, head low. He finally glanced up and saw Tav, their head resting on folded arms against the edge of the bath, an amused smile across their face.

The masked man gestured to the door, "Couldn't help me with this then?"

Tav suck into the water, running their fingers along the surface, "I was a bit occupied," they said as they took in the sight of him, stifling a laugh, "Looks like you managed a bath before arriving for a change! I appreciate that."

"Ah Ha. Ha Ha Ha. You're hilarious," his head tilted with a mocking laugh as he shook his hands and removed his boots. He walked to the wardrobe, grabbing a change of clothes and moving behind a divider to change out of his now soaking wet attire. Tav watched with an anxious curiosity as he removed his mask and placed it on a table beside the wardrobe, straining to peak between the cracks of the divider's wooden panels. All in vain, they were already certain, but it didn't stop them from trying.

"You actually showed up fairly early tonight," Tav commented, "Usually I'm here at least an hour before you arrive… Thought you'd choose to wait out the storm or something," they bit their lip as they watched his silhouette.

Uktar draped his wet clothes over the divider, toweling himself off as he spoke, "I knew the rain was coming. Managed to talk my way out of any deals going on too late. Scared folks into thinking the sewers may flood. Gave me plenty of time to haul ass over here," he threw his towel over the divider and it landed on the floor within Tav's reach, "Didn't think I'd get caught in the storm though."

Tav picked up the towel and wrapped it around themselves as they begrudgingly left the warmth of the pool. Uktar was busy tying his hair back up and pulling on a fresh pair of underclothes as Tav approached. They glanced at his mask left laying on the side table, gingerly running their fingers along the cool, glossy porcelain. Still spattered with rain, it seemed like it were made of crystal with the way it twinkled.

They heard Uktar clear his throat loudly from behind them, and Tav swiftly turned their back to the divider. Carefully, they picked the mask up and held it out behind them until they felt it leave their grasp.

"Thank you," his low voice replied. His cadence still perpetually annoyed, but Tav could hear the shame tinged below it all. They gave him a few beats to shroud himself, rocking gently on their heels before glancing over their shoulder.

"May I?" they asked, their eyes still trained on his legs.

"You may, Highness," he said with a tease and an exaggerated bow. Giggling, Tav turned around to face him. He leaned back up, adjusting to finish tying his robe as they looked at him.

Tav walked slow, still wrapped in their towel, running their hands under his arms and around his waist, looking up into the eyes of his mask.

"Hi," they said, coy smile betrayed by the blush on their cheeks.

"Hello, Sweetness," he responded, caressing their head in his hand, stroking down their cheek and pulling them close to his chest. The smell of rose oil and ivory soap from their bath still lingering.

Uktar could feel Tav's damp skin seeping through his fresh clothes, "Could we get you properly toweled off?" He quickly ran his arms up and down their shoulders as he pulled away, turning to grab them another towel.

He draped the fresh towel over their head, running the ends up and over their face, down their cheeks, watching the way they seemed to melt against his touch.

"We need to get you dressed," Uktar muttered as he dried their hair.

"What's the point if I'll be taking it all off in a moment?" Tav teased, loosening the towel tied around their torso, letting it fall to their ankles. They stood damp and bare as Uktar continued to dry their hair, pretending he hadn't even noticed his partner's playful advances.

He took the towel off their head and held it against the small of their back, pulling their naked body into him, "The point's in how much fun it'll be to get you out of them myself."

Tav felt their cheeks flush. They reached their hands up to his neck and pulled him down to meet them. They kissed the cold lips of his mask as if they were truly his, before moving down to his chin and neck. Their skin still warm from the bath, they made sure to hold their lips against him long enough to share their heat.

Uktar dropped the towel he had been using to hold Tav against him and wrapped his hands around their bare back. He relished the softness of their skin, squishing the plush spot where their hips met their thighs, running his fingers down the curves of their ass while they kissed him.

He tasted like he had actually bathed before coming, outside of being caught in the storm. There was a taste of earth from the rainwater, but beneath it was a musk of soap and… aftershave?

Tav pulled back and glanced up at him, "Are you… wearing cologne?" They smiled as their eyebrows twisted, once again trying to stop themselves from laughing.

Uktar gently pushed Tav away from him, "You get mad when I come in smelling like the sewers, are you really gonna give me shit for trying to clean up for a change?" Tav covered their mouth as to not be rude, hiding their smile.

After the first few times they teased him, Uktar had either bathed before arriving or bathed at the Caress when coming straight from the Guild. But this was the first time he seemed to have put on some sort of fragrance oil, and it had caught Tav by surprise.

"No, no, you're right," they tried to calm their giggling, "Its sweet. And preferable. Thank you," They pulled him back into a hug, kissing the exposed skin on his chest that his shirt and robe didn't quite cover. Tav turned and made their way to the wardrobe as Uktar sat in a plush armchair. He took the opportunity of Tav standing behind the divider to lift his mask and expose his lips, picking off grapes and sipping wine as he waited for his partner to dress.

"What would you like me to wear?" Tav called out to him, lilt in their voice sounding coy and seductive.

"Whatever you want, Sweetness," Uktar replied nonchalant, popping another grape in his mouth. Tav groaned. It was so hard getting him to play along sometimes. They threw on undergarments, and settled on a thin, billowing shirt. It reminded them of something Astarion might've worn, though a bit see-through with the light weight fabric.

Seeing no point in wasting time with too much clothing, they cleared their throat before coming out from behind the screen. Uktar took one large sip of wine before lowering his mask again, and Tav gradually slipped their body out into the open.

They ran their finger along the edge of the wooden divider, looking up at the man sitting a few feet away as they took their time approaching. They saw Uktar shift in his seat, gripping the arms of his chair. They could practically feel the way his hungry eyes devoured them, hidden behind his porcelain guise.

Tav reached out for their own glass of wine and drank readily, letting one hand run up Uktar's thigh as they placed their goblet back onto the table.

Immediately, Uktar had their wrist in his hand. Pulling them down to him, he wrapped his arm around their back and practically threw them up onto his lap. Tav laughed at the way he tossed them around, letting their hands settle on his chest as he ran his own hands down their back.

"Sooo… what's on your mind tonight?" Tav asked teasingly. The man beneath them let his grip squeeze into their hips as he subtly rocked himself against them. Tav's mouth opened in a silent moan, smiling and running their hands up to his neck.

"Same as always, gorgeous," Uktar's thumbs pushed into the dips of Tav's hips, where their thighs curved in towards their core, "Let's just see what gets us there."

They let their fingers trace along his neck, the tips of their nails ever so delicately gliding across his skin. He sighed, letting his head rest back against the plush arm chair. He watched as Tav took the opportunity to plant kisses on his neck, running their hands down under the tops of his robes. His chest rose, taking in deep breaths under their touch. Tav could feel the warm air building under his porcelain mask - his breath smelling of wine, mint, and molasses. His hands ran up and down their sides, hips gently pushing up into them. They rolled their own body in response, tracing their tongue along the risen veins against his skin.

Uktar's hand knotted into their hair, holding them steady and forcing them slightly away from him. Not enough to stop their touch, but far enough to make them really have to work to keep their lips and tongue against his skin. They smiled and laughed wantonly, pulling at the collar of his clothes.

They felt the strength of his raw desire in his touch, and the ever stiffening length between his legs. Tav's tongue ran down his exposed skin as far as his clothes allowed, before trailing kisses back up his neck, nibbling his ear as he ran his hand from their hair down their spine.

"I wish I could kiss you," Tav sighed.

"You know why you can't," Uktar muttered in response, wrapping his hands around the small of their back, pulling them closer. They felt his hands creep under their top, warm and welcome against their bare skin.

"What if I promised to keep my eyes closed," they teased, nuzzling their nose against him. He let out a gentle laugh.

"Not good enough, Sweetness," Uktar ran his hand up their spine, reveling in the touch of their bodies together. It was short lived, however, as Tav groaned and pulled back, hands resting on his chest as they propped themselves atop him.

They toyed with the edge of his robes, untying the clasps and running their hands over his plain undershirt. Uktar watched them from beneath his refined veneer. Their hands weakly attempting to undress him, their expression seemingly disinterested now. Or rather... distracted. A slew of emotions were obvious across their face, now clearly frustrated and discouraged.

He removed his hands from Tav's back and ran them over his chest, meeting theirs and resting his hands atop their own. He brought their knuckles up to his masked lips, making Tav smile at his attempted thoughtfulness. He took their hands and moved them again. Letting each of Tav's hands rest on either side of his neck, directing their thumbs under the very edge of his covering.

Tav's heart fluttered, gazing into the doll-like eyes of Uktar's mask. At times, they swear they could see his true eyes peaking beneath, watching them wistfully. Swirls of grey and green. Maybe it was just wishful thinking, of a day they could gaze into his eyes in truth.

He nodded as Tav paused, a small gesture allowing them to continue. They let their thumbs travel the length of his jaw, stilling by his chin. His hands held their wrists loosely, allowing them the freedom to move them as they wished. Tav hesitantly ran their thumb over his chin and across his bottom lip, concealed beneath his veil. Their breathing shuddered in tandem at the tenderness of Tav's soft finger against his dry lips, shocked to feel a ring pierced through the center. Uktar went to lick them instinctively, grazing Tav's thumb in the process, causing them to release a breathy moan.

They dropped their forehead against his own cold ceramic disguise, cupping his head in their hands and kissing his porcelain lips with fervor. Short lived - their kisses slowed to a halt, and Tav's chest eventually started heaving.

They didn't cry. Gods, they couldn't cry in front of him. But the ache in their gut was all consuming. They held their forehead against his, praying he couldn't see the tears building up within them from behind his covered eyes. They managed to turn their growing sorrow into a weak laugh.

"This is torture, you know," they pushed themselves from his chest and off his lap, pacing around the room.

Uktar ran his hands over his mask and slumped into the armchair, "Gods, Tav, not this again."

"No, it's not fair, Uktar! We've been seeing each other for months. We're both involved with the guild now - If I found out you're hiding some sort of 'secret identity' and ratted you out, I'd be killed…"

"And we can't have that," Uktar interjected sarcastically. Tav shot him an annoyed glare, and he responded with an exasperated shrug before pushing himself to his feet, "What do you want me to say, Tav? We've been over this! I just…!" He gestured to himself, frustrated, "I just can't, okay? Can we leave it be?"

Tav folded their arms across their chest, looking away from him to hide the tears they felt creeping up on them once more.

"I'm not going to judge you, you know," they said, quietly, "I wouldn't do that. I wouldn't think you were…" they bit their tongue, careful not to inadvertently say something hurtful, "I wouldn't be scared of you."

The air went silent in the room above the caress. They heard Uktar's heavy footfalls approach cautiously until his presence could be felt behind them. Their breath faltering as they felt his hands running over their shoulders, down their arms, slowly enveloping their folded limbs in his own. They felt the rise and fall of his chest pressed against them as they stood together.

"I know you think that, Tav," he murmured, his chin resting on their shoulder.

"I don't just think that," Tav snapped back in defense, "I'm not heartless. I'm not some kid scared of a boogie-man. Need I remind you what my teammates looked like after eating Ilithid worms? On purpose? Hells, I honestly thought Gale looked better for it," Uktar scoffed as he tried to hide his laughter. Tav leaned their head against his, a hand snaking up around the back of his neck, "Besides… as much as I would love to see you, that's not even what I'm asking," they nudged into the exposed skin at the crook of his neck, "I just… I want to feel you, Uktar."

They felt his body tense at their words, gripping them tighter, humming to himself. Time slowed as he gently rocked his body with theirs, eventually relaxing, running his hands along their arms before releasing them slowly.

"Perhaps," he spoke at first with a small hint of unease. But after a pause, he continued, his tone shifting into something more alluring, shrouded in excitement. Tav turned to look at him curiously.

"Perhaps, we can… compromise."

[spybrarian]

For Tanth'amour - here's an except from Firelight, warm as a kiss (AO3 link, Jade Claymore/Kit Tanthalos, E-rated)

Sitting in this copper bath by the fire together, all Kit can think (between dull bursts of pain) is how badly she’d like Jade to stroke her hand effortlessly through Kit’s hair. And then down her back. And over her shoulders and down her arms. And around her stomach. And maybe up over her breasts as well. Maybe. If Jade would want to.

She really hopes Jade wants to.

She’s so, so aware that all she needs to do to feel Jade’s naked chest pressed against her back is to lean backward, just a little. She can imagine how soft Jade will be, made even softer by the steaming, scented water, and – screw it, you know? They fought their way to the edge of the world and back, why shouldn’t Kit indulge a little?

“Kit, I wasn’t quite finished,” Jade says, as Kit’s head suddenly leans back to rest on Jade’s collarbones, her still-tangled hair dipping beneath the water.

“Yeah, I know, but…” Kit says, as her hands drift up to Jade’s knees which are poking out of the water on either side of Kit’s body. Kit’s palms slide down the outside of Jade’s strong, warm thighs, and press Jade’s legs in against Kit’s. She’s also so, so aware that Jade’s legs are… open, like this, and right against her back. She’s trying to gather her courage to turn around. “Hair can wait, right?”

Jade’s voice has a smile to it, and a rich, sweet flavour of indulgent desire. “Hair can wait,” she agrees, and dips her head to nuzzle Kit’s to one side, so she can kiss Kit’s cheek, and the dimple that appears the instant Kit smiles. That dimple stays there, firmly in place, as Jade kisses a path down Kit’s neck and lingers there on the top of Kit’s shoulder, almost like she’s forgotten how to kiss.

“Jade Claymore,” Kit says, feeling bold despite the warm flush she feels creeping up her face and down her chest. Her chest which is… floating, a little, the gentle curves of the top of her breasts caught by the golden firelight. “Are you ogling me?”

She can feel Jade smile against her skin. “Maybe,” Jade admits, managing to sound coy about it, and then, with a gravity that pulls Kit’s heart toward her as sure as the moons do the tide: “You’re the most beautiful thing I ever saw, you know? I can’t take my eyes off you.”

[creatorofuniverses]

Day 17 – Size Swap

Today's prompt is size swap! For this I decided to go with a size-swap AU for In Deep Waters (regular story here), because it's a thought I've had for a while now and this is as good an excuse as any to write some of it. Enjoy!

____________________

My name is Jeremy Waters, and I have never left New Mexico.

I say this just to point out how mundane my life should be. I don’t take risks, I don’t put myself in dangerous situations. I’m not the kind of person who would, say, go hiking through the Alaskan wilderness. The most excitement I normally get is going out to happy hour with some friends.

I’m fine with that. Really. I don’t need or want much more excitement- I get anxious when there’s more traffic than usual. Boring suits me just fine. Hence why I live in the same town I grew up in, less than an hour from my aunt and uncle, in an apartment owned by a friend of a friend. The college I recently graduated from is a few blocks away, and my upcoming job as a court stenographer only necessitates a fifteen-minute drive.

My life, by all rights, should be entirely normal. Yet, recently it’s been nothing but strange.

Strange, and dangerous. 

It started with a walk in the park.

Well, not really, I’m sure it started in some other strange place with a much more unusual set of circumstances, but for me it started then and there. The park was a familiar one to me, being on the walk from my current apartment to the college I’d just graduated from a few weeks ago. Now, in the decent chunk of summer I had between graduation and the start of my new job, I often wound up at the park just to relax. It had a few trees for shade, as well as a retention pond, where ducks liked to hang out. Sometimes I would come and feed them lettuce, just for something to do.

I actually had brought lettuce that day – there was some in my backpack, flat and nearly-empty given that I had no plans for the day and no classes to go to anymore – but there were no ducks in the pond. Looking back, I think that’s why I wandered over rather than staying in the shade of the trees. It was kind of strange to not see even one bird there. The day was hot and dry enough that they would surely seek out the water.

I stepped off of the paved sandstone path and into the scraggly grass, which was doing its best to be green but had only reached a sort of parched greenish yellow. They didn’t waste much water on a sprinkler system for a park that was mostly rocks and benches. The grass got a little greener near the edge of the retention pond, and I stopped there, looking out at the relatively small body of water.

The surface was still. There wasn’t much wind that day, and no birds, so that didn’t strike me as odd at the time. What did seem odd was the amount of wood floating on top of the water, like some rotted old tree branch had crumbled into the pond. Only, there weren’t any trees close enough to do that, and all the trees in the park seemed perfectly healthy. Weird.

I crouched down near the edge of the water, watching the pieces bob slowly. One of the larger bits of wood, a few feet away, seemed to have something on it. I squinted for a few moments before realizing that it was a… doll? Must be. It was only about four inches long, though it was curled up with its eyes closed, as if it were sleeping. It was probably made to look that way. It was all wet, from its short black hair to its little boots, and I looked around with a furrowed brow, wondering if some kid had lost it here or if it had somehow been washed into the pond with the rest of the debris. There had been a bad storm the night before, though I hadn’t heard about anything drastic happening.

Maybe there was a parks and rec lost-and-found I could turn it in to or something. I leaned forward and reached for it, my arm outstretched and my fingers barely brushing against it before I managed to snag the edge of the wood and drag the whole thing closer.

Then it opened its eyes.

I yelped, caught by surprise with my own eyes wide, and then the little not-a-doll shrieked in return. It scrambled to its hands and knees – dexterously, way too naturally, oh my god it must actually be alive – and skittered away.

And fell right off the edge of the wood and into the pond with a quiet plop!

“Oh shit,” I breathed, at a loss for anything else to say for a long moment. Too long, my brain clamored at me, what if it couldn’t swim? I pushed past the impossibility of it all, which was conspiring with my anxiety to grab my full attention, and after only a moment of twitchy hesitation I plunged my hand into the water after the little thing.

I waved my hand around in the water blindly for a moment before feeling some movement, and I managed to cup my hand around something small and flailing and pull it up out of the water. I had barely managed this, my hand and wrist dripping water and my fingers loosely holding onto the little whatever-it-was, when a tentacle – yes, you read that right – shot up out of the water after me and wrapped itself around my wrist.

I shrieked. It was an embarrassing shriek, far from manly, but in my defense I was thoroughly freaked out by this point. I waved my arm madly, trying to dislodge the slimy, completely unwanted grip of the tentacle even as I tried to backpedal further from the edge of the water. It clung to me, slick, sucker-covered muscle squeezing my wrist with shockingly strong tension, until I’d pulled enough that a good length of the tentacle was stretched out of the water. I caught a glimpse of something, a shadowy suggestion of some larger body coming towards the surface, before it finally let me go. The tentacle whipped back into the water, which rippled with the motion before falling still again, as if nothing had ever happened.

 Rubbing my wrist with my other hand, I scrambled to my feet and made it all the way back to the benches before I remembered why I’d been reaching into the water in the first place. Peeling open my fingers, which had clenched up in a loose sort of cage around the little doll-thing, I looked down and tried to assess what the fuck was even going on. My heavy breathing and pounding heart settled a bit as the confusion of this new mystery overwhelmed my previous panic.

Whatever it was, it was definitely alive. It pushed against my fingers with weak little hands and feet, struggling to sit up in my palm. Upon closer look, it seemed to be dressed in teeny furs, which were drenched after being submerged in the pond. It had short black hair, dripping with the tiniest droplets of water I’d ever seen, and its features looked vaguely indigenous. When it finally managed to sit up, it looked up at me – with a little face so round and babyish that it must be young, whatever it was – and babbled out something miserably. “Na’awa eren al? Eren al an ch’itok?” I didn’t recognize the language at all, much less the strange clicking sound the little thing added right in the middle, and my confusion must have shown because that tiny expression only got increasingly distressed. The little thing sniffled, face contorting into pure childlike dismay, before it burst into tears. “Il ta-impi ilo nani!” it wailed, before curling up even smaller and sobbing as noisily as something that small could.

When I say I was both heart-stricken and shocked, both are an understatement. No matter how impossible the situation, the fact remained that for all intents and purposes I had a four-inch-tall child crying in my hand, and there was nobody and nothing around to help or explain. A quick glance showed that no other regular people were around, and there weren’t even any other impossible, tiny people floating on the pieces of wood that remained in the pond. This was up to me, and I had absolutely no idea what to do.

So I did what I do whenever any situation gets strange and unpredictable- I went home.

I tucked the sobbing little kid close to me, hoped like hell nobody would notice, and walked on home at the fastest casual power-walk I could manage. It probably didn’t look casual at all, but thankfully nobody looked at me twice (even if they did look at me once, something my social anxiety couldn’t help but clock, and the fear of being asked what I was doing chased me all the home).

My brain raced even faster than my feet along the way. This wasn’t supposed to happen. Tiny people weren’t supposed to exist, and the retention pond in a city park sure as hell wasn’t supposed to have anything in it with tentacles like that. The storm last night couldn’t explain that. I’d heard stories about creatures in the ocean getting picked up and put somewhere else during hurricanes, but the storm had hardly been a hurricane, and besides, this was New Mexico. We were way too far from the ocean for that to be a thing. Had an octopus escaped from the local aquarium? Did we even have an aquarium in town? I was positive we didn’t, actually.

I arrived home with a lot of questions and a total of zero answers. Still, shutting and locking the door behind me was a huge relief. I might still have a reality-breaking little kid in my hand, but at least no zoo-escapees were about to lunge out at me here. We were safe.

Looking down, I carefully pulled my hand away, peeking in at the tiny anomaly. The miniature child looked back up at me with obvious fear and hesitation; they’d stopped crying, but their expression still held all too much misery, their dark little eyes watery and their cheeks flushed with emotion. Poor thing. I hadn’t exactly made the best impression.

“It’s okay,” I told them softly. They startled at my voice, flinching back against my fingers, but still stared up at me. Maybe they were trying to understand; I had no doubt that they understood my language about as well as I understood theirs, but I was hoping my tone might come across all the same. “I’m not going to hurt you.” They kept staring for a moment before sniffling and rubbing their eyes with the back of one teeny hand.

They were still soggy – holding them so close had made a little wet spot on my t-shirt – so I figured the first order of business was to get them dried off. I hurried to the bathroom and rummaged around in the linen closet for a washcloth (a whole towel would obviously have been overkill). Setting them down carefully on the bathroom counter, I watched them get to their feet before hesitantly offering the washcloth. “Do you… want to get dry?” I asked, hoping at least the question would come across. It suddenly felt awkward. This was a kid, impossibly teeny or not, and they weren’t my kid. I was hoping they were old enough to be able to do stuff for themself, like drying off, because I suddenly very much didn’t want to come across as some weird stranger trying to do that for them.

To my extreme relief, they looked at me quizzically but reached out for the washcloth with two teeny little hands. I let them take it, though the moment I let go their arms fell down with the weight of it, and they had to work hard to wrangle it enough to wipe their little face with. They were just so small. How was this even possible?

I ruminated on that as I took a seat on the edge of the nearby bathtub, putting me a little closer to their level but far enough away that I didn’t feel like I was hovering weirdly. The tiny kiddo barely seemed to notice anyways. They gave me a few little glances – more curious than scared, though that might have just been me projecting my own hopes there, as the miniature expressions were hard to see to begin with – and started toweling off their hair.

They then plunked themselves down to a seat, with a motion that only enforced my idea that they were just a kid, and pulled off their little boots. They emptied the water (barely a droplet) out of one with a small “egch!” of disgust and I couldn’t help but smile at the tiny theatrics. Once their boots and socks had been peeled off – revealing the tiniest little toes I’ve ever seen – they set them next to each other with fastidious perfectionism. They then patted down their hair, attempting to get it into order, before unfastening their leathered fur jacket with little toggles that were almost too teeny for me to see. They had on a little fabric shirt on underneath, a deep red in color, that they then dabbed at with the edge of the washcloth. They’d been soaked through, poor thing, but at least they seemed content to get dry now. Children were pretty resilient about that sort of thing; my entire day would have been ruined for sure. The jury was still out on whether my day had already been ruined by a sudden octopus attack.

The careful way in which the tiny kiddo arranged their jacket to dry and the little ways that they kept taming their drying hair made me guess that this was a little girl rather than a little boy. I leaned forward a bit, trying to see if the features of their face matched this assumption, and they turned toward me with wide, dark eyes and a look of surprise on their tiny face. It was hard to tell with kids, but I was pretty sure I was right. I could at least go on that assumption until we figured out enough communication for them – her – to tell me otherwise.

Once she seemed to have dried herself off as much as she wanted to, I reached over to grab the washcloth. The tiny girl flinched, looking alarmed, and I suddenly realized that she probably thought I was going to grab her up again. Whoops. “It’s okay,” I assured her, making my voice as gentle as I could. I tried to move more slowly, curving my hand around her to pick up the washcloth. “All done?” I asked, gesturing with the cloth as much as I dared.

She tilted her head a little, looking between me and the washcloth with utmost concentration, before nodding. “Tyo,” she announced. I took that as a yes. I pulled away the washcloth slowly, giving her time to protest, but she didn’t.

Well, that was our very first tally mark under “successful communication”. Here’s to hoping we could keep that up.

I stood, eliciting a wide-eyed stare from the teeny girl on my counter, and hung the washcloth on the shower curtain rod to dry. A strange smell wafted towards me from it, and I sniffed the washcloth a bit to double-check. It smelled like… salt. Like seawater. Brow furrowed, I lifted up my own shirt, smelling the damp spot that had been formed when I carried the drenched little girl home from the park. Saltwater again.

That made no sense at all. It was a retention pond in the middle of a landlocked state, it shouldn’t have any salt in it, much less smell like the ocean. I stared down at the little girl on the counter, and she looked up at me, tiny and impossible and unable to give me any answers even if she knew them.

Just what on earth was going on?

[lurkinglurkerwholurks]

Dry Drowning

First posted: May 25, 2018

Focuses on: Damian and Dick

My favorite bookmark: "pneumonia (kinda)" no???

Tier: Feels like a quieter fic but it's in my top ten in terms of hits and bookmarks? Weird.

This is my "behind the scenes" series where I indulge myself frightfully by annotating my fics. Link to the fic itself above. Thoughts below the cut.

This one, I believe started as a note on my phone after the 1000000 fic I'd read with a near-drowning that didn't deal with the potential for secondary or dry drowning. Seemed like a missed opportunity.

It was my first time writing in Damian's voice, and the first is always super scary. I like where I ended up for him, though, and I feel like I've kept the voice pretty consistent over the years.

Damian knew the others found him unpleasant on a normal day, and he told himself that he didn’t care. Al Ghuls didn’t have a use for white lies and discussions of feelings. But Damian tried, sometimes, even if the others didn’t recognize his attempts.

That's him. That's the boy.

School in general was “the pits” (a Todd phrase, and one Damian found most apt, having had his face locked into that particular region of Todd’s anatomy once or twice.) Homework was just the greyed deodorant clump that crowned the whole smelly mess.

I don't remember writing this. It's gross and I'm still proud of it. It's also super interesting to note which bits of fanon I had already ingested at this point.

Drake would think it funny to see him festooned with the symbol of an anthropomorphized rodent, but all Damian cared about was that the fabric was soft and smelled of Alfred’s laundry detergent.

That's a slip. Alfred should have been Pennyworth there. Oh well. But also no one commented on Damian wearing Micky Mouse matching pjs!

Dick and Jason come in squabbling and at the time I did have a general idea of what they were fighting about, to keep the dialogue on track, but I've forgotten it now.

“Damian? What are you still doing up?” Frowning, Grayson turned and leveled his full attention on the presumed responsible party. “Tim? Why hasn’t he finished his homework?” “Why is this my fault?” Drake demanded. “How is it possibly my fault for the little gremlin being slow?”

The elder sibling curse. THE WORST.

Only Todd’s head swiveled his way,

I love smart Jason.

From somewhere far away, he thought he heard Todd’s rasping voice shout, “Catch the kid catchthekidcatchthekidcatchthe—”

This is usually the only line I remember from this fic because I can hear it. It is also something I do, repeating the same information rapidly when panicked rather than giving new information.

If unconsciousness had been a crashing tsunami wave, regaining consciousness was like floating upward in a peaceful lagoon.

Friggin water metaphors.

“Oh sh—Tim, turn the dimmer,” Grayson called

I worked very hard not to use any profanity for the first however many fics I wrote. I don't use profanity IRL as a general rule, and it was a challenge to find a way to keep the dialogue natural. I think I did okay but it definitely was an exercise in creativity.

Signing didn’t come naturally to Damian, but he was pretty sure he could remember what Cass had taught him even through his headache. 

Another slip with the name. My bad. I don't go back and edit posts but this one is testing me.

“Thanks, Timbo.” 

Behold, the only nickname I'll allow for Tim. If I ever use "Timmy," it's a cry for help.

I managed to work in hair stroking, cuddling, and a forehead kiss into this one. Go me.

[drarrily-we-row-along]

Making It Work (Chapter Eight)

The next morning when Harry woke up, he couldn’t remember ever feeling quite as disgusting as he did in this moment. He stumbled to the bathroom and relieved himself before making his way out to the kitchen and pouring a large glass of water.

The door onto the porch opened and Harry glanced over at Malfoy who was wearing his tight teal yoga pants and a loose fitting tank top, his hair in a top knot again. “Potter, you smell like a distillery. Have you never heard of a hangover potion? Or a shower?”

Harry groaned irritably. “Get off my back, Malfoy.”

“Here,” he said, handing him a vial with a potion in it.

And it probably spoke to how awful Harry was feeling that he simply took the potion and drank it down. He shuddered as the sledge drained down his throat and for a horrifying moment, he was quite sure he was going to be sick all over the kitchen counter. After a moment it passed and he suddenly felt much better. “Thanks,” he said, not feeling outstanding, but not feeling like he’d been hit by the night bus, either.

“Go have a shower, you’ll feel better,” Malfoy said. “And I’ll feel better because I won’t be able to smell you.”

“You’re such a wanker.”

“Yes, well, honesty does seem to be the best policy with Auror partners,” he said with a shrug. “Now, off you pop; to the shower with you. I’ll make breakfast.”

Harry was loathe to admit it, but a shower went a long way to making him feel a little more human. The house smelled divine as he came out into the living room and made his way to the kitchen.

“Ah, just in time,” Malfoy said and a cup of coffee floated over to him followed by a waffle and a plate of bacon.

“You made waffles?” Harry asked, oddly touched.

Malfoy shrugged, not looking at Harry, “They’re good for absorbing alcohol in your stomach. You’ll function better.”

“You’re-” Harry started before cutting himself off.

“What?” Malfoy asked, glaring suspiciously at him.

“You’ll murder me, but I was going to say sweet.”

Malfoy blinked, mouth opening indignantly for a moment then snapping shut before he groused, “I am not sweet, Potter! I am a Malfoy.”

Harry laughed at that, he couldn’t help himself, “I know, you’ve kept it under wraps very well. I never would have suspected it.”

“Potter, I will curse you into next week.”

“Will you make me waffles when I arrive in next week, too?” Harry asked with a huge grin as he stuffed a bite of waffle into his mouth. He groaned at the fluffy, sweet confection in his mouth, “They’re very good.”

Malfoy rolled his eyes and grumbled under his breath.

“This is the nicest start to a Thursday I’ve ever had.”

“Thursdays are particularly heinous, aren’t they?” Malfoy agreed trying, Harry suspected, to steer them away from the topic of his kindness.

“They’re the worst. Second only to Tuesday,” Harry replied easily.

“You’re right about that, Potter.”

He hummed and took a sip of the coffee that Malfoy had managed to make perfectly for him. “I always spend Thursday mornings daydreaming about flooing in sick to work,” Harry said before taking another large bite of waffle.

“What would you do with a sick day when you’re not sick?” Malfoy asked before taking cutting a small piece of waffle with his knife and delivering it to his mouth. How was he so bloody graceful in everything he did?

“Well, I’d go back to bed for starters,” Harry told him. “Then I’d get up again around 10:00 and I’d make myself a big breakfast, maybe waffles or something,” he said with a grin that Malfoy rolled his eyes at. “I’d pull out one of the two dozen books I have on my to-read book pile and I’d curl up in my favorite armchair and read for a few hours and drink tea. Then in the afternoon, I’d put on a glamour to disguise who I am so I don’t get caught out and I’d go find a farmers market. I’d find the local honey booth and I’d probably fall in love with the bloke who ran it,” he paused then added, “or the girl who ran it. That part changes depending on my mood. I’d stay the rest of the afternoon at his stall just talking and laughing, we’d go to dinner together, and that would be it. The beginning of the perfect life.”

“That’s a very detailed daydream, Potter.”

Harry shrugged, “It changes a bit depending on the season, too. Can’t be daydreaming about farmers markets in the winter.”

“Indeed.”

“Alright, what do you daydream about when you want to play hooky?”

Humming thoughtfully, Malfoy said, “I don’t generally. I like going to work most days, I liked working with my partner. He was kind and he taught me a lot, we worked hard and I always felt good about what we were doing. I didn’t really feel that way about my life until I became an Auror.”

Harry listened attentively, there was something about the little glimpses Malfoy gave him of his interior life that always left him wanting to hear more, his waffle and coffee forgotten for the moment.

Draco cleared his throat, “I’m more likely to daydream about what my evenings after work could be like someday. I imagine having breakfast with my husband or boyfriend or whatever, then going off to work and tracking down criminals. Then I imagine coming home to a warm house with all of the lights on and a fire already lit in the hearth. I imagine making dinner together or curling up on the sofa to read or just talk.” He shrugged, his cheeks faintly flushed. “It’s stupid really.”

“It’s not,” Harry said softly, and he wanted to reach out and cover Malfoy’s hand with his own, but he didn’t. “It’s not,” he said again, more softly.

He wasn’t quite sure what it was that was happening, what had shifted over the past 12 hours between them. He opened his mouth to say something when Malfoy’s tempus charm went off, startling them both.

“Circe,” Malfoy cursed, waving a hand to stop the alarm. “I have to get ready, enough daydreaming for me.”

And if Harry fancied he heard a bit of wistfulness in Malfoy’s voice, well, he kept his thoughts to himself.

———

Harry was no stranger to the desire to watch Malfoy. He’d spent a fairly large amount of time watching the other man when they were just boys and he could admit, if only to himself, that whenever the two of them had ended up at the same events his eyes stayed glued to the other man, watching him suspiciously.

What was more unfamiliar were the feelings behind his desire to watch him now. Throughout the course of the morning, Harry couldn’t fight the impulse to look up at the other man while they filled in paperwork.

And he’d stare at him, trying to reconcile the pretentious, rude, bigoted boy he’d known in school with this graceful, elegant, hard-working man who daydreamed about coming home to someone at night and who wanted a tiny cozy house. He was nothing like what Harry had imagined.

“What, Potter?” Malfoy finally asked, after looking up for the sixteenth time to find Harry watching him. Harry always tried to avert his eyes, but didn’t manage it well.

“Nothing,” Harry said.

“You have your sixth-year-stalker face on,” Malfoy said with a raised eyebrow.

“What?”

He rolled his eyes, “Every time I look up I see you staring at me and even when I’m not looking at you, I can feel your eyes boring a hole into my skull. It’s like 6th year all over again.”

“This is nothing like that,” Harry replied, his neck growing warm.

Malfoy merely raised one infuriatingly elegant eyebrow at him.

“It’s not!” Harry protested. “Then I was just trying to figure out what you were up to and now,” Harry trailed off, not really sure what to say.

“And now…” Malfoy prompted.

“Now I’m just trying to figure you out,” Harry finished lamely with a shrug.

His brow furrowed, “What about me are you trying to figure out? I’ve been very upfront with you, Potter.”

“I know,” Harry said, “I just sort of like getting to know this you.”

Malfoy stared at him for a moment, then narrowed his eyes, “Are you still drunk, Potter?”

“You’re a prat,” Harry said with a laugh.

“I might have always been amazing to know at Hogwarts,” Malfoy said haughtily. “You don’t know.”

“I don’t,” Harry agreed. “You always seemed to have plenty of friends.”

Malfoy shrugged, “Yes and no.” There was a sadness around Malfoy’s eyes and in the twist of his mouth that made something twist uncomfortably in Harry’s stomach. "I certainly had my faults."

“I was a delight to be around as a teenager, let me tell you,” Harry replied, trying to steer toward something that would make his melancholy disappear.

That startled a laugh out of Malfoy, “Oh, I’ve no doubt. Only you were weirdly moody from like 5th year on.”

“I was not!” Harry said, trying to feel offended but not quite managing it.

“You were,” Malfoy said. “Always glaring into you porridge in the morning and skulking about as though the world was out to get you.”

“It was!” Harry exclaimed. “In fifth year, Voldemorte’s thoughts started leaking into my head and if you think teenage hormones are bad, you’ve got no idea what it’s like to also be sharing thoughts with a mad man when he’s most upset.”

“Sorry,” Malfoy said incredulously, “Did you really just tell me that you were sharing thoughts with Voldemort?”

Harry suddenly wished he hadn’t brought this up. He gave a small nod.

“And no one helped you stop them? No one wanted to, like, protect you?”

“People wanted to protect me,” he said a touch defensively. “Dumbledore made Snape start teaching me occulmency and-”

“Snape?” Malfoy asked incredulously. “He wanted Snape to teach you occulmency.”

“Well, yeah,” he said. “He was really good at it.”

“But he was a bloody awful legilimency teacher,” Malfoy replied. “My parents wanted him to teach me, too, but one lesson and they swiftly changed their minds about that. And he liked me.”

“Yeah, it was pretty awful. That was a bad year. After Cedric died, everything sort of went downhill, you know? It was like the war became something real, something that could actually hurt people I loved.” He swallowed, “I was just a kid, you know? And it felt like I had all of this pressure on me that no one understood. And I just felt really alone and isolated from everyone else, like sometimes it was like I was watching everything through a window. People would laugh and talk and I just felt angry. All the time. For no reason at all. And some people wanted to treat me like a child, because I was one, but I didn’t feel like I should be treated like one. He was in my head, and I was the one who saw him when he came back, I was the one he was after, and people were dying. For me. And I just hated that. I hated all of it.”

The room was quiet and Harry glanced over at Malfoy, who was staring at him calculatingly. “That was sixth year for me,” he said, surprising Harry with his honesty. “Not the bit about Voldemort, although he was living in my house and I, too, had to learn occlumency. But realizing the actuality of the war that was brewing, seeing the effects first hand. My friends didn’t really get it, not even the ones whose parents were supporters of Voldemort, he didn’t live with them, he didn’t torture people in their homes. Their parents were similar to mine, I think, but no one like my Aunt Bellatrix, no one in appearance like Severus, who was my godfather. School seemed so pointless. Everything seemed pointless. I was going to fail and then I’d be killed along with my mother,” he shrugged helplessly. “I was angry and trapped and I felt like there was no way out.”

Harry was quiet for a moment then he asked, “Do you ever think about how crazy our school was?”

Malfoy let out an undignified snort at the question.

“Seriously!” Harry said. “If I were a parent, I’d never send my child to the Hogwarts I went to. I mean, maybe now with Minerva in charge and with people in the Ministry who actually understand the way children learn pushing for solid education reform. But the Hogwarts we went to? No bloody chance. They had us wandering around looking for some dark being who was killing unicorns when we were eleven, Malfoy. Eleven. That was fucking Voldemort that we stumbled across that night, by the way. Two children, wandering around in what is literally called the forbidden forest at night with no adult.”

Malfoy's open laughter made the corners of Harry’s lips tilt up at the sound, so he continued.

“Not to mention our teacher had, you know, Voldemort sticking out of the back of his head. Then second year, children are getting petrified left and right, they hired a complete sham of a teacher who set pixies on students and who was completely incapable of teaching anything. I mean, shouldn’t there have been some practical aspect of his interview where he had to demonstrate some skill?”

Malfoy was chortling, his cheeks pink, “You’re right, that is awful.”

“Like they were debating closing Hogwarts, but I would have marched my child straight home the moment someone ended up petrified and not returned them to the school until the damn basilisk was killed. Then third year, parading in a bunch of bloody dementors-” Harry started.

“Well, you were more strangely affected by them than most.”

“I had two souls living inside of me,” Harry replied and Malfoy let out a surprise bark of laughter. “I'm sure they thought I was a complete freak. Regardless, they’re dementors around children and teenagers who are already hormonal,” Malfoy started laughing again at this, “It can’t have made hormones any better.”

“And fourth year with the triwizard tournament,” Harry said. “Are you kidding me? I would never let my child participate in something like that. Who makes children try to steal eggs from a dragon? Or throws them into a lake with mermaids and a giant squid? Who sends children into a maze packed with all sorts of terrifying things all alone?” Malfoy just shook his head at him. “I mean, a child died.” Harry said and at that, Malfoy frowned. “Literally died. And granted they couldn’t have known that the cup could have been switched for a portkey but surely someone should have seen the signs that that man was not Alastor Moody.

“I would have thrown a hissy fit about Umbridge being placed in the school,” Harry continued. “She blatantly abused her power and abused children. Everything was in chaos by the end of the year.” He rubbed his forehead, “I mean, I wasn’t raised in a magical household so maybe wizarding families just always expect this crazy stuff?”

Malfoy shook his head, “No. There were plenty of times in the early years when my parents talked about sending me to a different school. We have family who go to Beauxbaton, so they often talked about sending me there instead.”

“So I’m not crazy.”

“Well I wouldn’t go that far,” Malfoy replied with a smirk. Then he added, “And you got into more trouble than everyone else.”

“But I only mentioned things that affected all of the students! I did plenty of stupid things on my own, admittedly, but there were a vast array of things beyond my control that were not well thought through by adults in power.”

“What can I say, Potter, when you’re right, you’re-”

He was cut off by a knock on the door and Helena coming in.

“You have the worst timing,” Harry teased her with a smile, “He was just about to tell me that I was right.”

“Oh, shut up, Potter,” Malfoy replied without any bite in his tone.

“Well, you two seem to be in fine spirits today,” she commented as she leaned against the doorframe.

“Malfoy made waffles for breakfast.”

“I will hex you, Potter.”

“Oooh!” Helena crowed, crowding into the office and sitting on the corner of Harry’s desk, as though readying herself for prime gossip. “Spill! Did you sleep together? Why was he making breakfast?”

Malfoy groaned, “Do you see what you’ve started?” he asked Harry. “No,” he said firmly in response to Helena’s question. “We live together because we are mandated to until we pass our compatibility tests and Potter got stupidly drunk last night and forgot that we are wizards who can take potions to get rid of hangovers before they even happen. Waffles are the best thing to absorb alcohol out of a stomach.”

“You’re sweet, Auror Malfoy,” she said, obviously quite smitten.

“Draco,” Malfoy corrected as Harry said, “That’s what I said.”

Malfoy sent a mild stinging hex at him and Harry laughed.

“He’s a keeper, Harry,” Helena said with a wink at Malfoy. “Don’t mess this one up.”

“Why is it everyone always assumes I’m the screw up?” Harry whinged and Malfoy smirked at him.

“Because, Potter, I am easy to work with.”

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Chapter Seven | Chapter Nine