#anyway thank you JADE for tagging me

[keibea]

bold the facts

Was tagged by @lazysunjade and mentally (if they new i was around they would've tagged me...right? right) tagged by @thesimperiuscurse and @amuhav LONG POST AHEAD!!

- PERSONAL -

Financial: wealthy (previously) ▪ moderate ▪ poor ▪ in poverty Medical: fit ▪ moderate ▪ sickly ▪ disabled ▪ disadvantaged ▪ non applicable Class or Caste: upper ▪ middle ▪ working ▪ unsure ▪ other Education: qualified ▪ unqualified (but still highly educated) ▪ studying ▪ other (depends on what time in my non-existent story) Criminal Record: yes, for major crimes ▪ yes, for minor crimes ▪ no BAHAHAHAHAHA CAN U IMAGINE ▪ has committed crimes, but not caught yet ▪ yes, but charges were dismissed

- FAMILY -

Children: had a child or children ▪ has no children ▪ wants children Relationship with Family: close with sibling(s) ▪ not close with sibling(s) ▪ has no siblings ▪ sibling(s) is deceased Affiliation: orphaned ▪ adopted ▪ disowned ▪ raised by birth parent(s) ▪ not applicable ▪ emancipated

- TRAITS & TENDENCIES -

extroverted ▪ introverted ▪ in between disorganized ▪ organized ▪ in between close minded ▪ open-minded ▪ in between calm ▪ anxious ▪ in between disagreeable ▪ agreeable ▪ in between cautious ▪ reckless ▪ in between patient ▪ impatient ▪ in between outspoken ▪ reserved ▪ in between leader ▪ follower ▪ in between empathetic ▪ vicious bastard ▪ in between optimistic ▪ pessimistic ▪ in between traditional ▪ modern ▪ in between hard-working ▪ lazy ▪ in between cultured ▪ uncultured ▪ in between ▪ unknown loyal ▪ disloyal ▪ unknown faithful ▪ unfaithful ▪ unknown

- SEXUALITY & ROMANTIC INCLINATION -

Sexuality: heterosexual ▪ homosexual ▪ bisexual ▪ asexual ▪ pansexual Romance: romance repulsed ▪ romance neutral ▪ romance favorable ▪ naïve and clueless ▪ romance suspicious Potential Sexual Partners: male ▪ female ▪ agender ▪ other ▪ none ▪ all Potential Romantic Partners: male ▪ female ▪ agender ▪ other ▪ none ▪ all

- ABILITIES -

Combat Skills: excellent ▪ good ▪ moderate ▪ poor ▪ none Literacy Skills: excellent ▪ good ▪ moderate ▪ poor ▪ none Artistic Skills: excellent ▪ good ▪ moderate ▪ poor ▪ none Technical Skills: excellent ▪ good ▪ moderate ▪ poor ▪ none

- HABITS -

Drinking Alcohol: never ▪ special occasions ▪ sometimes ▪ frequently ▪ alcoholic Smoking: tried it "NEVER.AGAIN." ▪ trying to quit ▪ quit ▪ never ▪ rarely ▪ sometimes ▪ frequently ▪ chain-smoker Recreational Drugs: never ▪ special occasions ▪ sometimes ▪ frequently ▪ addict Medicinal Drugs: never ▪ no longer needs medication ▪ some medication needed ▪ frequently ▪ to excess Unhealthy Food: never ▪ special occasions ▪ sometimes ▪ frequently ▪ binge eater ▪ at least one treat everyday (usually chocolate-chip cookies that eli makes) Splurge Spending: never ▪ sometimes ▪ frequently ▪ shopaholic Gambling: never ▪ rarely ▪ sometimes ▪ frequently ▪ compulsive gambler

- PERSONAL -

Financial: wealthy (previously) ▪ moderate ▪ poor ▪ in poverty Medical: fit ▪ moderate ▪ sickly ▪ disabled ▪ disadvantaged ▪ non applicable Class or Caste: upper ▪ middle ▪ working ▪ unsure ▪ other Education: qualified ▪ unqualified (but still highly educated) ▪ studying ▪ other (depends on what time in my non-existent story) Criminal Record: yes, for major crimes ▪ yes, for minor crimes ▪ no ▪ has committed crimes, but not caught yet ▪ yes, but charges were dismissed

- FAMILY -

Children: had a child or children ▪ has no children ▪ wants children Relationship with Family: close with sibling(s) ▪ not close with sibling(s) ▪ has no siblings ▪ sibling(s) is deceased Affiliation: orphaned ▪ adopted ▪ disowned ▪ raised by birth parent(s)/but also raised by step father half and half ▪ not applicable ▪ emancipated

- TRAITS & TENDENCIES -

extroverted ▪ introverted ▪ in between disorganized ▪ organized ▪ in between close minded ▪ open-minded ▪ in between calm ▪ anxious ▪ in between but calmer than elodie girl is crazy disagreeable ▪ agreeable ▪ in between cautious ▪ reckless ▪ in between patient ▪ impatient ▪ in between outspoken ▪ reserved ▪ in between leader ▪ follower ▪ in between empathetic ▪ vicious bastard ▪ in between (but more towards empathetic) optimistic ▪ pessimistic ▪ in between traditional ▪ modern ▪ in between hard-working ▪ lazy ▪ in between cultured ▪ uncultured ▪ in between ▪ unknown loyal ▪ disloyal ▪ unknown faithful ▪ unfaithful ▪ unknown (except one time...but that was not with elodie....👀)

- SEXUALITY & ROMANTIC INCLINATION -

Sexuality: heterosexual ▪ homosexual ▪ bisexual ▪ asexual ▪ pansexual Romance: romance repulsed ▪ romance neutral ▪ romance favorable ▪ naïve and clueless ▪ romance suspicious Potential Sexual Partners: male ▪ female ▪ agender ▪ other ▪ none ▪ all Potential Romantic Partners: male ▪ female ▪ agender ▪ other ▪ none ▪ all

- ABILITIES -

Combat Skills: excellent ▪ good ▪ moderate ▪ poor ▪ none Literacy Skills: excellent ▪ good ▪ moderate ▪ poor ▪ none Artistic Skills: excellent ▪ good ▪ moderate ▪ poor ▪ none Technical Skills: excellent ▪ good ▪ moderate ▪ poor ▪ none

- HABITS -

Drinking Alcohol: never ▪ special occasions ▪ sometimes ▪ frequently ▪ alcoholic Smoking: tried it ▪ trying to quit ▪ quit ▪ never ▪ rarely ▪ sometimes ▪ frequently ▪ chain-smoker Recreational Drugs: never ▪ special occasions ▪ sometimes ▪ frequently ▪ tried it ▪ addict Medicinal Drugs: never ▪ no longer needs medication ▪ some medication needed ▪ frequently ▪ to excess Unhealthy Food: never ▪ special occasions ▪ sometimes ▪ frequently ▪ binge eater ▪ at least one treat everyday Splurge Spending: never ▪ sometimes ▪ frequently ▪ shopaholic Gambling: never ▪ rarely ▪ sometimes ▪ frequently ▪ compulsive gambler

[dying-suffering-french-stalkers]

OHHHHH so THAT'S who Mara Jade always sounded like in my head (Jennifer Hale)

[jethrowest]

let me see you stripped down to the bone…

- stripped by depeche mode

congratulations! you’ve been hired as homelander’s entire glam squad! what an opportunity! now let’s try real hard not to let the fumes get to you, okay?

pairing : homelander/afab reader

word count : 5.6k

warnings : homelander in and of himself, toxic workplace environment, something akin to stockholm syndrome, fingering, smut. 18+, mdni

special thanks to @blindmagdalena @sehtoast @homeb0ys and @clockworkzeppelin for letting me scream at you about this!

writing tag

gif credit

divider credit

Homelander is an asshole.

That doesn’t bother you much. You’ve dealt with plenty in this field, which means you’ve learned how to make life easier for all parties. That particular learning curve includes when to stand out and blend in, at times concurrently depending on what variety of asshole they happen to be.

As a whole, the makeup artists and hairstylists at Vought take care of The Seven and go where they’re needed. And as a cosmetologist, you were hired to provide both services for Homelander and Homelander only, which you consider to be one of the most prestigious stamps one could add to their professional passport.

Before you became official, you were colorfully threatened by a Ms. Ashley Barrett, who, after the fact, had no qualms throwing you into the lion’s den to figure your own shit out.

In no uncertain terms were you told that if you fucked any part of this up, your sparkling resume would look best as something to sit her smooth, bare ass on while getting fucked on top of her desk. No lube or protection. It would then be tossed exactly like her salad.

Not an image you could have ever predicted crossing your mind. Honestly, you should have stopped her right there and walked your happy little ass out of her office toward pastures that might have not been greener (you were being handsomely compensated), but certainly not as toxic. While the red flags were a color you couldn’t quite ignore, you were also curious about why they stood out so much more than they did regarding previous employers.

None of this is to say you live under a rock. Anyone who has access to the internet is ambushed daily by these Supes’ personal lives. Homelander’s track record as far as choice in partners went hadn’t been ideal, so you understand that made him less popular at the time. That of course has nothing to do with you or your capabilities.

You opt to wear gray-colored glasses, seeing everything with a neutral blend of black and white. As much as possible anyway.

Nevertheless, curiosity killed the cat. But hopefully not your career.

The first day was awkward to say the least. Immediately, you knew you weren’t going to like your coworkers.

Glints of sympathy changed how they perceived you. A target, whether they intended for this to happen or not, was nailed to your forehead, and it made them buzz around you like avid, greedy wasps keen on seeing how rapidly the honeybee will be brutalized. You didn’t much care for going cross-eyed while staring at that target whenever you crossed paths. They didn’t know you, yet because of who you were working under, deemed you helpless. They didn’t give you a chance to establish yourself before branding you a victim.

Why should you respect them?

Small talk wasn’t entertained either, as their judgment tarnished any future encounters. They ostracized you once you showed no interest in engaging with them. That didn’t disappoint you. You weren’t here to make friends.

You do wonder how those before you fared: if they were jaded when they arrived or if they couldn’t help but succumb to the pressures of being at the top rung of a very unstable albeit sought after ladder.

Ms. Barrett quickly introduced you to Homelander, her parting gift before leaving the two of you alone.

You weren’t completely nervous in his presence. He wasn’t any different to you than the other celebrities you’d worked on, except he could rip you in half like a piece of paper if he was so inclined. But he’s the hero of this country’s story, so really, you should have nothing to worry about.

His demeanor, you noted, suggested arrogance, annoyance, and boredom. All things you’re used to. So you offered your hand to shake, which he eyed with a slightly upturned nose before grabbing, told him it was a pleasure to meet him and got straight to business.

Looking back, he was clearly expecting more out of you. Maybe not a display as excessive as getting on your knees and professing your undying love, but close enough. Somewhere in the middle, perhaps.

Part of you believes he might have also counted on fear. To you, he’s not anything or anyone unknown. Another big name in a fancy suit with impossible demands.

You were given a routine to follow and products to use. You did as you were instructed and found the process to be simple and, as Homelander’s expression revealed, uninspiring.

While you were utilizing a face brush to apply powder, he must have decided he was done enduring your lack of enthusiasm, because he suddenly asked, “What are you wearing?”

You stopped for a split second, no longer than, and continued. “The name of my clothing designer, you mean?”

He scoffed, waving his gloved hand at you, almost knocking the applicator you held to the ground. “No, your perfume. What are the top notes?”

You laughed and that seemed to confuse him. “Why, you want a bottle?”

“I don’t like it.” He sniffed sharply and cleared his throat. “Smells like you should be on the corner selling your used body parts.”

Ding ding ding. Alarm bells and red flags galore. You enjoy a challenge, however, and are a bit of a masochist, so you persevere.

“Well, what doesn’t smell like a cheap hooker to you? I’ll start wearing that instead.”

He cocked a brow, studying you. Trying to figure out if you were being serious or mocking him.

“It’s your first day.” A warning. “Are you on your best behavior, or can you do better?” He leaned forward in his chair, forcing you backward. “You should be working harder to prove yourself. Prove your worth.” He sat back again and shrugged. “Or maybe you really are worth as much as that dumpster juice you doused yourself in.”

At this point, he more than likely envisioned your happy little ass getting offended and storming out of the room. Breaking down, sobbing. Questioning why he was being so rude. One of those or, better yet, a nifty combination.

You’ve heard worse, unfortunately for him. Not always directed at you, but that doesn’t matter. You can handle it.

“You’re absolutely right,” you stated calmly, folding your arms across your chest. He looked at you with pretentious, petulant intrigue. “It is my first day, and I want to make a good impression. Which is why I’m asking you what you would like me to wear so I can continue to keep that good impression intact and, as our professional relationship develops, stay on top of it.”

Homelander’s mouth twitched. He sighed deeply and slouched in his seat, staring at the wall to the left of him. Then he deigned to cast his gaze back at you, resting his cheek on his index and middle finger. He tapped the arm rest with his other hand.

“Ugh, fine. Whatever.” A pause followed that lasted longer than necessary. Were you meant to guess? “Just wear something, I dunno, less. If you would have done your homework like a good little peon, you’d know I have super senses. Highly developed. Can you even imagine what that entails?”

Finally, he freed the canvas you were nearly finished with, and you flicked the soft bristles across the bridge of his nose. You smiled, more to yourself than him.

Felt rather on the nose, as the saying goes.

He didn’t comment on your grin. You didn’t give him time to. But he did huff like you were being obtuse on purpose.

“I can try. And my imagination is giving me some less-than-ideal scenarios,” you replied. Another pause. At least he was letting you do your job again.

You don’t know what compelled you to keep going, but something about his lack of a real answer made you carry on. “Do you have a favorite flower or baked good? Maybe a spice?”

Homelander almost glared up at you. You say almost because, for whatever reason, it didn’t seem like he was directing that harshness at you, though former words and actions proved otherwise. Something inside, perhaps. Or outside of this enclosed space.

“I already told you what to wear. Don’t make me repeat myself.”

You took the hint and remained quiet the rest of your session. Soon, you were done.

As you were packing and tidying up your station, he took it upon himself to stand behind you. He lingered over your shoulder, watching the scene play out like he was director and star and you were barely an ant on the sidewalk he acknowledged before squashing.

The heat radiating off of him was impossible to dismiss, a wall of it barricading your backside. He clasped his fingers underneath his cape and inched closer. You thought he was as close to you as he could get without touching you. He was that warm.

When you glanced up, he was staring at you through the mirror. As absurd as it was, you managed to get chills. Goosebumps broke the surface of your skin.

“Fresh chocolate chip cookies. Straight out of the oven. Like mom used to make.” He flashed an unnerving smile before turning to exit.

From there on out, even after you bent to his will and found a gourmand scent that matched what he described, Homelander tested you. Your work ethic, clothing choice, eating habits, and most of all, patience.

Your parents would ask how you were liking your job, how it was working alongside the Supes- not to mention the most famous of all- and you’d lie through your teeth. You felt you had no choice, Ashley’s threat ringing in your ears.

Resume, bare ass, tossed salad...

Oh yeah, it’s going great! They’re all super flexible. I couldn’t be happier!

At least that pun made you feel a little better about hiding the shame of what you’ve allowed yourself to take on.

This was all in the first few weeks. It started to get a little easier after that, which is surprising considering more was added to your to-do list.

You should have moved on before starting. But, for whatever asinine reason, you didn’t.

Every time you go back to your apartment and assess your appearance in the bathroom mirror, you wonder who’s making who up here. He’s changing your looks more than you are his. You’re like his human doll.

You’ve put up with a lot over the years, but this takes the cake and shoves it in your face. As fucked as it is, the flavor is growing on you. Like a fungus. Growing, nonetheless.

You can’t stop thinking about him.

It’s innocent enough, you try convincing yourself. Making sure you have the right outfit laid out the night before, the right lunch (no onions or fish or anything “freaky”!), etc. He is your superior, after all. You shouldn’t be viewing him in any other light.

He’s the most frustrating aspect of your existence these days, but he’s also the one you’re around the most. His penchant for workplace gossip and how unintentionally funny he is tends to make him palatable, which has regrettably become an understatement.

Months go by. You’ve witnessed how alone he truly is. How he has nothing outside of performing his tricks on Vought’s all-encompassing stage. And when he begins asking for your input, starts doing things for you that are so blatant it’s perplexing, you find your stress and vexation melting into cumbersome fascination.

It’s embarrassing. You don’t have the courtesy of enough time to dwell on your feelings toward the situation either, from beginning to whatever end you might be met with. You suppose that could be beneficial in the long run.

It also hits you when you least expect it; when you really don’t want it to.

Your body doesn’t wait until you finally have a moment alone. It decides, while you’re helping Homelander with his skincare routine that he insisted upon because you know more than these vacuous corporate douche-bags, to heat up without warning and slither from your head to your heart until it grasps you unfairly between your legs.

You try not to step into momentary paralysis. You understand to what extent his powers reach. It’s not like he doesn’t go on and on about them. About himself.

Whatever he notices, it’s not right away. A palpable tension fills the air between the two of you eventually. But it takes a more significant amount of time than you would have anticipated to permeate the natural flow of things.

Fuck, you can’t even be safe inside here, where your thoughts, whatever they may be, are yours. You can’t even have yourself. He has every part of you, and you are willingly relinquishing that control.

Your evening, once you can have it, consists of combing over every decision you’ve made leading up to this strange, disorienting space you find yourself occupying. All it does is leave you exasperated in a much different way than before and with an unsettling observation (or hallucination):

Was that the tail end of the American flag outside your window?

You are unacceptably late.

Rushing around, you throw on the first top and bottoms you see from your closet and spritz some perfume on your neck and wrists. You don’t check your phone. You’re afraid of what will pop up on your screen. And, frankly, you don’t have the time.

Your only option for transportation is the subway, as you’re sure the special vehicle from Vought is long gone. Why would they wait for someone like you, even if you’re practically Homelander’s personal assistant? One of his only friends. You doubt he has more than Black Noir, and that isn’t as perfect as it appears to the casual viewer.

You dread what kind of explosion you’re without a doubt walking into once you show your miserable ass up. You’re going to smell like everyone on this train. He’s going to go ballistic.

The question remains: why are you continuing to put yourself through this? It’s not your circus, yet somehow, the monkeys have become your liability.

You know, deep down, what keeps you going back. It’s simply too ridiculous to admit aloud.

Making your way past security, hurriedly presenting your badge, you realize you forgot to brush your teeth, or at the very least, gargle some mouthwash. You thank your lucky stars when you open your purse to a pack of gum tucked away in one of the compartments.

It will have to do.

When you open the door to Homelander’s dressing room, you see a couple of employees standing near the counter where the bag of supplies has been opened and rifled through, looking like they might soil themselves, a frantic Ashley, and an extremely pissed off Homelander in the middle of it all.

Reflexively, you cringe. You attempt to wipe any trace from your features, but it’s too late. Ashley is glaring daggers at you and Homelander can hardly bring himself to look in your direction. The others don’t matter to you. They never did.

“I’m so sorry I’m late. I know there’s no excuse-”

“You’re goddamned right, there’s no excuse! I don’t give a shit if god and his whole fucking choir of angels came down from heaven and divinely called you to give them a makeover! What were you thinking?!”

You’re about to answer, though you comprehend her query is more or less rhetorical. She interrupts your slightly open mouth while gesturing wildly, proving your point.

“Oh, that’s right! You weren’t thinking at all, were you?! But I do believe you’ve thought long and hard about what’s at stake here. And you know damn well we at Vought don’t tolerate this kind of sloppy behavior. Not to mention the way you’re dressed! It’s adding insult to injury!” Her hand swipes at the air, the length of your outfit, and you glance down, recognizing how comically mismatched you are. Her correct observation affects you more than it would have months prior, stinging your ego- one of the many things that’s been shelved in order to accommodate the person who won’t even grace you with a glance.

A dramatic groan cuts short any further commentary from the redhead, perpetually stretched thin between her absurd duties.

“Jesus Christ, Ashley, why are your big fucking horse gums still flapping?” Homelander’s booming voice slices through your mind like a jarring, dense migraine. He pinches his brow between middle finger and thumb, eyes closed. “I want you and Tweedledee and Tweedledum t’get the fuck out. Now.”

Ashley is plainly dumbfounded, struggling to see where she went wrong (a pattern when it comes to dealing with the volatile leader of The Seven), mouth agape. She shakes her head. “But sir, are you-?”

“You don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about or doing. Clearly.”

Ms. Barrett turns a shade paler, staring at Homelander and blinking owlishly before snapping herself out of her stupor. She hurries her lackeys out of the room, shooing them along like a pair of misbehaving toddlers. She doesn’t give a final look, no further warning. She merely shuts the door behind her.

You also hear it lock.

What the hell does she think is going to happen?

You should have stopped this while you had the chance. You should have never taken this job. You should have stood up for yourself and walked out. You should have you should have you should-

“Who the fuck do you think you are?”

His caustic tone sends shivers down your spine. It’s unlike anything you’ve heard come out of him. And you’ve heard enough.

Again, you open your mouth. It fills with blood, thick and metallic and more potent than the mint from your gum. You’re silenced by it.

He stalks toward you and grabs you hastily by the shoulders, swiveling you around so you’re face-to-face with the choices you’ve made. Your mirrored image is reflected back at you, exhausted and searching for any last shred of who you might be beneath his heavy palms.

“Look at yourself! Do you even recognize who’s staring back at you?” No.

“What kind of game are you playing, hmmm? Is this… humiliating spectacle you’re putting on for the money? Your pathetic career? Like it’s goddamned rocket science to pick up a can of hairspray and use it. Monkeys have hands.” He makes a noise that’s akin to a snorting horse, exhaling forcefully past his nostrils. “I mean, did you really think you could pull a fast one on me?” He clutches your jaw, squeezing it between middle and thumb. Every muscle in your body tenses, your heart picking up rhythm.

“Spit that fucking gum out. Don’t think I can’t hear you grinding it between your molars like a dumb animal. You aren’t a mama bird, are you? Y’don’t have cute little baby birds t’force-feed your regurgitated leftovers, do you? Eugh, gross.”

You take a deep breath and exhale through your nose. It presents you with a false sense of security. You do as you’re told, and it lands on the floor in front of your shoe, saliva dangling on a thread as withered as your sanity.

Suddenly fresh breath seems like the most insignificant issue, when Homelander himself once made it out to be something earth-shattering.

You’re such a fool.

He leans in and sniffs your throat. Your fingers lengthen and bend.

You’re so many things at once. Confused, angry, nervous, scared. And, to your dismay, warm. God you’re so fucking warm. He’s heating you up from the inside out. You clench your jaw, still held in place by a firm bind.

“Get rid of those ugly clothes. I don’t care what you have to do. I can’t stand the sight or smell of them.”

You shut your eyes. When you open them, all you see is red. The other emotions are smothered in favor of that brand of heat. What happens next is a blur. You temporarily leave yourself.

“Fine. Have it your way, Homelander. You always do.”

Breaking free of his fluctuating hold, you start tearing at what you’re wearing, tossing everything- including your bra and underwear- to the ground. Your shirt winds up with the gum sticking to its loose fabric. You even take your shoes and socks off, not paying any heed to where your belongings go. Just that they’re gone.

You don’t process the glaring fact that you made yourself naked in front of your boss. In front of the most powerful man this country, and possibly world, has known. You don’t care that things have escalated this far. That they shouldn’t have. They shouldn’t have. But guess what? They did. And these are the consequences you both have to deal with.

“You wanna know what game I’m playing?” You turn around, forcing him backward. “It’s funny, I thought you’d be able to answer that for me, considering all the hoops I’ve had to jump through to not only save my ass, but make sure you had someone to talk to at the end of the day! Who on your team can you say goes above and beyond like that for you?!” He blinks at you now, eyes wide. Features fall to the floor where your clothes reside. You have his full and undivided attention.

An impressively dangerous thing to have.

“What more do you want from me, Homelander? I practically live with you without any of the benefits that usually includes! You’re really going to stand here and berate me like I haven’t given you fucking everything you’ve ever asked me for? Because I made one mistake? I gave up my entire world, which I know doesn’t mean shit to you. But it does to me.”

You fold your arms over your chest. Nothing covers it. You have to know before you lose all dignity. So you ask once more, hoping it won’t get lost in this bizarre mess.

“What do you want from me?”

Nothing. He can’t stop staring at you. You aren’t aware enough to be ashamed, but you are aware enough to be upset.

His infuriating silence compels you to bend down and gather what was a barrier between the two of you. You are no longer needed if he can’t do what he does best, which is spout off, leaking bottled words everywhere like a broken faucet. It’s a pretty simple question, you think.

That’s when the glass behind you shatters.

You flinch, pause what you’re doing and slowly stand. Cautious in whatever your next approach will be.

Surveying the aftermath, you’re relieved to find that you’re far enough away from the mirror so no injuries were inflicted.

When you finally lock eyes with the source, you see red. The atmosphere surrounding you heaves like the distended belly of a rotting corpse; hisses like an overflowing tea kettle; pierces you like lightning.

Homelander’s expression is rigid. His jaw quivers. Irises are a bright, shining scarlet. If you try anything rash, you might be next. But, having been around him for so long, you’re more inclined to believe he’s having trouble processing his own emotions. And that might have been one of the only ways to release them.

You drop the top and pants you managed to reclaim. Your brain hasn’t fully recovered from the constant devastating hit it’s taken, so you don’t want to put a name to what’s pushing you forward. You don’t stop until you’re directly in his line of vision.

Swallowing, you carefully extend your hand. The ruby color begins to crumble and give way to the vast ocean you might have drowned in one too many times. You lost track, blocking what you could out. Too real and intimate to accept for a realm that thrives off of inauthenticity and misfortune.

Homelander inhales harshly and you retreat, pupils hooking themselves to his. Searching for any sign you shouldn’t be right where you are.

Of course there are several; unfortunately, you are currently blind to them. Blind to everything but him.

That’s how it’s been for awhile, hasn’t it?

He has a habit of not granting you the luxury of time.

Quickly, he snatches your wrist and brings your palm flat against his cheek. He exhales, eyelids fluttering, nuzzling into you.

It’s so simple, yet it disarms you in ways you aren’t accustomed to.

Homelander basks in this chaste display of affection, and so do you, in awe of how enraptured he appears. Soaking you inside of his pores.

In turn, your cognizance reappears. You nearly topple over, realization infiltrating every part of you.

You’re not wearing a stitch.

A knock at the door startles you both. You glance over in that general direction and hear from the other side, “You’re on in fifteen, Homelander, sir!”

Gazing back up at him, you witness that same fire expand at a rapid rate. You use your other hand to bring him back down to reality, to ground him. It rests against his chest, delving into and cracking his ribs, flaying him open.

What strikes you is how vigorously his heart is beating. How you can feel it through his uniform.

This is how much you affect him. (Can you fathom that you’re only privy to a fraction?) Having evidence of the tiniest reciprocation drains you of any unwanted discomfort.

His fury subsides. You breathe out. He does, too.

“Go sit in your chair. I came here to do my job, after all.” The tenderness with which you speak seems to ease him further, his shoulders deflating with each word.

That aside, you’re playing with a lit match. You’re unsure who’s going to set who ablaze, but you’re willing to go down with this entire building to find out.

He does as he’s told, watching you the whole way like a mutilated mixture of a snarling cornered animal and a man fervently in love. He almost trips into his seat, not an ounce of grace in his gait.

Sacrificing his entire image just to get a glimpse of you.

Whipping his cape to the side, he sinks into the cushion. You get things ready as you typically do, your movements a bit jittery from the adrenaline sending haphazard jolts to your limbs. Despite this, you’re focused. You are more focused than you remember ever being.

You work efficiently, keeping in mind the limit that’s been put on your time.

Homelander bores holes through you. He doesn’t need lasers for that. You’re exposed and vulnerable and he pries what he fostered apart until it’s distinguishable by no one else but him.

You relearn his perfectly manufactured features. Different lights shape shadows you either haven’t seen before or feigned ignorance of. You commit to memory how he looks, smells, feels, the side of your hand grazing his cheek and hanging on.

He’s invigorating, your excitement building to a crescendo you can’t neglect. The heat in your core disperses, most of it congregating low in your belly and behind your expanding rib cage. His pupils drink you in, urgently and violently.

Your arousal is heady. He licks his lips. A hint of a whine caresses your ears and it makes you dizzy.

How could you have ever denied yourself?

You decide to take further control, testing the waters to a greater extent.

It’s your turn to watch him the whole way down. You straddle him, easing yourself atop his taut thighs.

After a few moments of humoring yourself, of pretending to concentrate on your work, dusting his nose with powder, you straighten. Eye contact has not been severed.

You motion toward his hands, balled into tense, repressed fists at his sides.

“Take off your gloves.”

Initially, it feels like maybe you said the wrong thing, or said it the wrong way. He doesn’t budge. You’re patient, however, so you wait like you’ve always done, the warmth from your cunt mingling with the hardness beneath you. Your mouth waters.

At last, Homelander nods and removes his gloves, tugging on the index of each. He places them on the armrests and transfixes himself to you once more.

“Do you want to touch me?” you ask, voice and body staying impossibly still in spite of your nerves.

Immediately, he shakes his head, “Yes,” the first time he’s spoken since your outburst, and without hesitation, reaches for your chest. You close your eyes, falling into his snooping lifts and tugs and squeezes, giving yourself permission to become possessed by the inhibited imaginations of how selfish, how rapacious his touches might be. How smooth his bare hands are, how ardent each digit is.

Leaning into you, he sucks one nipple into his mouth and palms the other, moaning and vibrating against your flesh. He digs his fingers into the pliant softness of your hip, steadying you with disciplined pressure. You squirm, attuned to every minuscule shift.

The lit match is tilted toward you now, swift and stunning. Your fingers release the brush you’ve been holding. It aligns with the slit of the cushion, forgotten and purposeless.

You wrap your digits around the hand on your curves and guide him toward your throbbing center. He doesn’t fight you. Doesn’t stop your movements. Doesn’t scold or challenge you. Instead, he curls his fingers in a way that makes you unabashedly moan, cupping your folds and pinning his thumb to your clit, adapting to your anatomy.

Your wants.

It seems like breaking away from you is a daunting task, but he does for a moment, brow furrowed, more engrossed and invested than you’ve ever witnessed.

“Fuck.” The curse sounds downright edible, your new favorite flavor. Your name tumbles from his lips like he’s been practicing, a sweet, rich icing on top. You gasp, his tongue adhering to you again, swirling around your peak before lightly biting it.

Rocking your hips back and forth, side-to-side, you grind hard into his palm. He strokes you like he’s studied what pace you prefer, how much friction you crave. You’re so wet, even you’re thrown off by it.

Once he’s finished with your chest, he’s back against the seat, unable to peel his gaze from you. Your full, swollen, glistening breasts.

His mouth hangs open, obscene, desperate whimpers slipping from it. Pupils are like whirlpools that drive you under. Drive you mad.

Homelander adeptly slips two, three digits inside your sopping cunt, unrelenting in his intentions to make up for lost time. The voracity of his actions propels you forward, balancing against his chest. He grasps and pulls at your other hip, groaning loudly in your ear, confirming his approval of how close you are to him.

It’s still not enough.

Pulling you even tighter to his blinding sun of a body, he encloses his free arm around you and desperately bucks his waist. “I want… I want… I want…” he chants. Your nails drag up his neck and along his scalp, overwhelmed by his warmth, his scent, him. Your lips ghost the sliver of skin above his collar, making him growl.

You anticipate and dread and yearn for what’s been building for so long. You clench and release, clench and release, clench and release, body chanting with him.

You’re intuitively thankful for the chair’s sturdiness; however, if it would have collapsed, you’re honestly not sure you would have noticed. Or cared.

You hear him come first. Feel the temperature rise temporarily. It’s so sudden and all-consuming that you naturally follow, his name an instinct you can’t help but divulge. You haven’t come down from the turbulent emotions rushing through you earlier, and that combination catapults you over the edge.

Your orgasm draws more deliberate, vehement grunts and sighs of satisfaction from him, as if your pleasure is inexplicably the same or worth more than his.

You can’t crumple into a boneless heap like you want to. You just can’t. You have to look at him. Look at his bliss; the glazed, barren-yet-so-full-of-you expression, of what these months of working in close quarters have done to him.

What you uncover is not what you were picturing. There’s a mixture of that haze with something almost apologetic below the teeming surface. Clouds of red to skies of blue. Destructive in and of themselves.

Sliding his fingers from your wetness, he wraps his lips around each one that was inside of you and spreads them apart. Your slick sticks to his glossy skin and stretches between digits, a generous amount. You whimper at the loss- the emptying, hollow feeling- and watch, mesmerized and delirious as he savors you.

Swallowing you whole, Homelander sweeps his knuckles across the apple of your cheek and presses his lips hard against yours. He wastes no time inhaling your gasps and moans, licking your mouth and the faint taste of mint, stealing it from you. You ingest what you can of him as well, exploring what was open to you longer than you realized.

He then seizes your wrists. It’s a rough gesture that evaporates into gentle circles along your pulse points. Still, you know you’re going to bruise where he turned the key and locked you into place: wherever he is.

A visible sheen coats his lips.

“I want you to tell me I’m good. Great. The best.”

His breathing is labored. So is yours.

He kisses the inside of the wrist smeared with perfume, your fluids, his saliva; ends with your hand and rests his cheek against the slope of it.

“I want you to be mine. All mine. Mine alone.”

You’re shaking. He moves forward and pets your hair, twirls it; grabs your nape and holds his thumb to the front of your throat. Securing you. Keeping you there.

“You have to stay. Be mine and stay.”

You thrum with an ache he forced upon you. He’ll claim you were starving and he was the only one who could satiate.

You nod. You were never going to leave to begin with.

Homelander made you his. And you thanked him for it.

[sailorrhansol]

TRICK OR TREAT!!!

fuck, i love this concept.

sour skittles + ghostface + the craft, pls 🤲🏻

(smut is always welcome, although i know that is highly dependent on whatever it is i just chose, lmao)

❀ Pairing: Vernon x afab reader

❀ Summary: Vernon has been one of your best friends for years. Shy, quiet and calm, he’s always been a steady rock for you. He has no idea you’re in love with him, but that’s neither here nor there. After a strange series of events on Halloween night, Vernon seems a little… different, and the new version of him both terrifies and thrills you. 

❀ Word Count: 21,558

❀ Genre: Supernatural, Friends to Lovers, Thriller

❀ Type: Smut, Angst

❀ Rating: 18+ Minors are strictly prohibited from engaging in and reading this content. It contains explicit content and any minors discovered reading or engaging with this work will be blocked immediately.

❀ Warnings: Explicit language, recreational drinking and smoking, crude humor, some of the members of SVT are a bit of an asshole in this - it is not a reflection of how I think of them, mentions of occult practices, a NOT ACCURATE spirit summoning/ritual, mentions of a murder suicide case/event, mentions of murders, light mentions of blood, mentions of infidelity, catching someone in a sexual act (not the main couple), Vernon is a bit of an asshole at times, mentions of insecurities/confused feelings, I owe Chan and Mingyu an apology for how I wrote them, sexual tension, some angst, sexually explicit content including thigh riding, oral (f. receiving), nipple play, a lot of biting and scratching, choking/breath play, vaginal fingering, a lot of spit and cum mentioned, unprotected sex, references to sub space, Vernon takes a dom role but it is not explicitly established, Vernon gets a little bit possessive, calls reader a slut a total of one time, some light finger sucking, reader is at several points annoyed with the women in this fic which can come off a lil bitchy, general creepy scenes in woods and in some dark spooky places. 

❀ Additional Content Warning: It is implied by the end of this fic that Vernon is possessed to some degree by a spirit in this. I make zero distinction as to whether it’s Vernon or the spirit calling the shots or if there is even a difference/distinction between the two, which poses the fair question of consent in parts of this that I do not address or provide nuance to. The lack of clarification is due to the POV of this fic being entirely from reader’s perspective and she doesn’t have a clue what’s going on until the very end, and thus we are unable to unpack to what degree this character is or is not himself. If that lack of nuance bothers you, that is valid but this is not the fic for you. 

❀ A/N: This was supposed to be a drabble. This was supposed to be a drabble. THIS WAS SUPPOSED TO BE A DRABBLE. Anyways, Jade my beloved you got Vernon + Friends to Lovers + Slasher and honestly it’s less slasher and more supernatural so I actually totally apologize but I leaned too far the other way I’m so sorry soifsdiofjdfiogj I love you love all the specific easer eggs for you and also show you to Jade because they specifically helped me write the Mingyu ‘graveyard smash’ line thanks bye

❀ A/N 2: Alternative summary for this fic is Hali repeatedly drags Chan because she loves him so much 

❀ Reader Notes: This reader is never explicitly gendered as girl/she/her etc. so I have listed them as an afab reader. 

❀ Disclaimer: Disclaimer: All members of Seventeen are faces and name claims for stories. Any scenarios or representations of the people and places mentioned in works are not representative of real-life scenarios. Moreover, none of my works accurately reflect, represent or take a stance on the nuances of Korean culture, cities, people etc. Seventeen members are not Seventeen culturally, intellectually, physically, or representationally in my stories, and should be considered name and face stand-ins for made up characters.

Main Masterlist ❀ Tag List Request Form ❀ Ask ❀ Haliween

Cool wind lifts the pages of your book, threatening to flip them over. You press your fingers flat to the page, fighting to keep them from flitting over and losing your place in the story. There’s not much daylight left in the sky as the afternoon dies to make way for the evening, but you’re eager to finish the chapter, craving to unravel the mystery you’ve been working your way through the past week. 

Atmospheric sounds play in your headphones as you read. Your legs are crossed, book in your lap as you sit on the concrete wall separating the quad from one of the sidewalks on campus. Now that there’s a chill in the air, you crave being outside, finding the opportunity to sit wherever you can on campus to crack open a book before the sunlight finally fades. 

Flipping the page, you only get a split second warning of the shout you hear through your headphones before something hits you in the back of the head. You yelp, dropping the book to the ground as your headphones clatter from your head to the grass from the impact. 

Scowling, you swivel around to see Mingyu jogging over, his hand over his mouth as apologies start pouring out of him. A flush creeps up your neck as he approaches, his friends and fellow fraternity brothers watching from afar. Some of them are bent over cackling, the others have their hands on their head, visibly stressed from hitting you with their football.

Again. 

“I am so sorry,” he pleads, running a hand through his sweaty hair. “Seungcheol threw wide.” 

“Maybe play on a rec field, then?” You snap, sliding from the wall, picking up your headphones and book. You kick the football toward him, irritated. “There’s literally so many other places you can play. Don’t you have a yard at your little frat house?” 

“It’s being used for float building for the Halloween parade.”

“Convenient.” 

For the most part, Mingyu isn’t so bad. He’s a little loud and obnoxious, but he’s always nice and he does seem to mean it when he picks up the football and apologizes again. It’s more than a lot of his fraternity brothers would do, though it’s not much now that they’ve managed to hit you twice with the same ball. 

Someone like Mingyu wouldn’t even pay attention to you if it weren’t for Vernon, though. As Mingyu retreats, the reason you’re even friends with Mingyu appears on the sidewalk, coming toward you with his hands in his pockets, hood pulled up on his head and headphones on. He lifts his chin in greeting to Mingyu, but Vernon’s brown eyes focus on you, his true destination. 

Vernon pulls his hood and headphones down when he’s within a few feet, jerking his thumb at Mingyu. “What did he want?” 

“He was apologizing for hitting me with the football. Again.”

“Again?” 

“Yeah. They hit me earlier.”

Vernon hums, displeased. He doesn’t say much, instead turning to lean against the wall, shoving his hands in his jacket pockets again.

The last embers of sunlight hit his side profile, stunning you to momentarily silence. In a halo of fiery light, Vernon looks like a god. His light brown eyes turn burnished gold, reflecting the dying sun. His hair is spun copper, strands dancing in the breeze as he watches the world around him. 

Not for the first time, you think that you understand why Helen of Troy inspired a thousand ships to come after her. Vernon’s face is the kind of thing you’ve read about in all of your mythologies and folktales for your Occult Studies major, so beautiful that it can’t be real.  

If Vernon notices you staring, he doesn’t say anything. Instead, his eyes watch the other members of his fraternity play football, one of them crashing into someone on a lawn chair. He shakes his head and mutters under his breath, wearing his second-hand embarrassment silently as he watches them apologize for the millionth time. 

Vernon is nothing like the rest of his fraternity. You’re still unsure why he even joined. It was something he had done his freshman year going into school, wanting to put himself out there and make friends. 

He certainly looks the part - he’s handsome and in shape from playing soccer in highschool, and he’s got good fashion sense for a college student. But he’s quiet and a little awkward, unsure how to navigate conversations with most people who aren’t in his immediate circle of friends and shy to an almost crippling point. 

It had taken Vernon seven weeks of being your lab partner before he finally spoke more than three sentences to you. For the longest time, you’d assumed it was because he thought you were beneath him. It wouldn’t have surprised you. Greek life on campus tended to stick with their own. 

Now, you know it was because he didn’t know what to say or how to start a conversation. You’d only managed to get him to talk to you when he noticed a song by Frank Ocean bleeding from your headphones, piquing his interest. 

Four years later, talking to Vernon is easy. Well, maybe not easy. You’ve got years of friendship between you now and you know what makes Vernon tick, but the butterflies you get when you’re around him and the way your heart swells when he does something so simple makes it a little harder. 

Like now, as day fades to evening and the world is awash in purple and gold, and he’s looking at the watercolor sky like it's the most fascinating thing in the world, completely unaware that while he’s in awe of the sky, you’re in awe of him. 

Vernon jerks forward, making you flinch. You have no idea what he’s doing until his hand is in front of you, smacking down the football that has been sent your direction again. You huff in frustration, watching as this time it’s Chan who jogs over to get it. 

“Are you all fucking serious?” You demand. He slows his approach, eyes darting to Vernon as though looking for help from his friend. Vernon says nothing, bending over to pick up the football and toss it to Chan. “I should shove that football up your ass.” 

“Maybe not the football,” Chan quips, catching it. He looks you up and down, head cocking to the side a little. His mouth lifts at the corner and there’s a glint in his dark eyes that makes you even angrier. “I’m open to other things, though?” 

“You’re so gross.”

“What? You’re hot when you’re mad.” 

“Go away, Chan!” You shriek, flustered and angry as you spin around to grab your things and storm off. You only get a few feet before realizing Vernon is still leaning on the wall. “Are you coming or not?”

He scrambles after you, nearly tripping over his own feet to catch up. Chan is snickering as he runs back toward where the others wait for him, yelling a trilling bye toward you and Vernon as you charge north toward the main campus parking lot. 

“He’s so annoying,” you gripe, shoving your book in your bag. Vernon hums, noncommittal. You glance at him. “Nothing more to add?” 

He lifts a shoulder. “It’s cause they think you’re hot, Lovecraft.”

You smile at the nickname, fondness sweeping through you. He’d started calling you Lovecraft your freshman year after learning about your major, deciding that it just fit. You like it - at least coming from Vernon, who understood Occult Studies was more than just spooky and magic and the metaphysical. 

“They think anything with a set of tits and a hole to stick their dick in is hot. I’m sure a blowup doll would blow their fucking mind.” 

Vernon’s mouth twitches at that. “You’d hate Chan’s room.”

“Don’t give me that visual!” 

His laugh is warm. He bumps shoulders with yours, grinning at you as the two of you walk. You feel the telltale sign of your traitorous heart beating extra hard at his closeness, your gaze shooting to the floor as you try to hide any evidence of your feelings that might lurk on the surface of your expression. 

Thankfully, Vernon never seems to notice. You’re glad that he doesn’t. You don’t think you’re very good at hiding how you feel, but he is equally bad at picking up on it, totally oblivious to the long stares and the way you fumble over your words when he gets too close. 

Vernon has that effect on a lot of people. His proximity to being attractive has always outweighed his inability to make small talk among the female population on campus. The amount of times you’ve watched girls openly flirt with him and whisper about what it would take to get him to crack was insurmountable. 

Autumn wind kicks up leaves at your feet. Neither one of you says anything as you walk, simply content to be together. It’s one of your favorite things about him, never feeling pressure to perform or to have conversation. Being with Vernon is just… easy. Natural, even. 

The parking lot is slowly emptying as the rest of the late afternoon classes end. A few unlucky evening class students pull in, slamming their car doors and rushing off to their auditoriums. Vernon’s car is easy to find and you let yourself in, sliding into the passenger seat like it’s yours - it kind of is. 

“Pizza?” he asks, engine humming to life. 

“Please.” His lips twitch in a soft smile as he nods, flipping on the radio. You hum, leaning forward and turning up the volume. “I love this song.” 

Vernon’s smile increases as you lean back, the sounds of Emotional Oranges filling the car. He rolls the windows down once he’s on the road proper, cool wind kissing your skin. You pull your feet up onto the seat, leaning toward the window as the fading twilight brushes past you. 

Outside the car, the world smells like pine. You take a deep breath in, loving the way the October air feels just right. Fall is always your favorite time of year, and with the music playing in the background, wind in your hair and Vernon drumming on the wheel, you don’t think there could be anything better in the world. 

Sal’s Pizzeria glows against the dark, a beacon of hunger and hope against the night. The giant pizza slice on the roof blinks rapidly, the neon a little bit broken. Gold light glows through the windows as you climb out the car, gravel crunching beneath your feet. 

A bell chimes as the door opens and a group of students pour out, laughing and carrying boxes. Vernon catches the lip of the door and holds it open for you, gesturing you to enter first. The smell of bread and warm air hits you in the face, your lips curving as you tell the girl at the host stand two.

College students and local residents fill the restaurant. The hostess leads you to a booth in the corner, the vinyl seats creaking under you as you hop-slide your way in. She hands you the menus, her eyes lingering on Vernon as she does, lips twitching when she asks if there’s anything else you need. When he doesn’t answer, you shake your head, shooting her a thin-lipped smile. 

She’s hesitant to leave but she does, casting one last look over her shoulder as she heads back to the stand. You look at Vernon too, studying him. He’s none the wiser, brown eyes scanning the menu even though you know he’s going to order the same thing. 

When the server comes, Vernon does as expected: orders a diablo pizza with a side of fries. You shake your head a little, asking for the white feta pizza, handing over the sticky menus. When the server is gone, Vernon leans back in the seat, sipping his coke as he drinks you in, wordless. 

You kick your feet up on his side of the booth next to him and he lets you, patting your ankle fondly when he sets his drink down. He has no idea how torturous that alone is, the simple comfort of his familiar touch enough to send your eyes averting across the room, trying to control your breathing. 

“What are the favorites and least favorites this week?” he asks, balling up the paper his straw came in. 

Favorites and least favorites is a game you like to play with him. It’s not so much of a game as it is a routine where you tell him your favorite piece of material from your classes and your least favorite. Most people dismiss your major as too peculiar for interest. No one knows what you’re supposed to do with Occult Studies but it fascinates you.

And Vernon, who has always had a keen interest in the goings on in your classes and homework. 

“We’re in the psychology of the occult module.” He nods, eyes fixed on you. “Mostly covering the psychology of community as it relates to the occult. We have sections on covens, clans, actual cults, sects and more modern mass followings.” 

“Hmm. So like… Twitter stans.”

You smile a bit. “Something like that. We covered the maenads in class today. Ever heard of them?” He shakes his head and you lean forward, elbows on the table. “They were women in Ancient Greece devoted to the god Dionysus and they were believed to be possessed by the god. They were said to have wild parties in the woods with one another where they’d do all manner of sordid things, all while under the influence.” 

“A Friday night for Chan.”

“Exactly. A lot of historians call them crazy and speculate they were raving mad, but if I was a woman under the thumb of men in Ancient Greece…”

“Shit, I’d get fucking crazy in the woods with my friends too.”

“Exactly. It was more about reveling in female companionship and being unfettered from the male-dominated societal norms.” 

The arrival of your dinner interrupts the conversation. Both of you lean backward, making room for the hot plates and Vernon’s basket of fries. You slide your feet down from his side of the booth, leaning to grab the red pepper flakes from the corner of the table. He grabs salt, immediately dusting his fries.

“Ugh, you could have at least let me have some first.” He looks up at you through his lashes, brows raised. “They’re already salted, Vernon.”

“Not enough.”

“You know, if you were haunted or possessed you’d never want the salt.” He gives a questioning hum. “Salt is used in purification rituals. It’s believed spirits hate it because it’s used in banishing spells and rituals. It’s why a line of salt keeps them out.”

“Good thing I’m hungry, not haunted.” 

You snort, taking a piece of your pizza from the tray. “Speaking of haunted, are we going to your Halloween party this weekend?”

“My halloween party?”

“You are in the fraternity, Vernon. Yes, yours.” 

He makes a face and tears into his pizza. You shake your head as he lets out a sound, huffing and tilting his head backward as he tries to deal with the too-hot food in his mouth burning him. “Ya,” he says around the slice. “I guess so.” 

“What are you going to wear?” He raises a brow at you, swallowing down the hot bite. You pout, sagging in your seat. “Dude, you have to dress up. You can’t just go in a black shirt and a baseball hat.” 

“Why not?” You kick him under the table and he winces, ducking down to rub at his shin. “Shit, fine. Okay, what do I go as?”

You grin, picking up your appropriately cooled pizza. “Leave it to me.” 

-

“This makeup itches,” Vernon mutters, looking up at you through long lashes. You hush him, putting the finishing touches on the black line down his mouth. “Couldn’t I have gone as something easier?”

“What is easier than black jeans and a jacket you already own, huh? Stop talking, I’m gonna fuck up this line and this makeup is perfect so far.” 

It’s true. You’ve outdone yourself on turning Vernon’s face into a skull, taking inspiration from American Horror Story for the costume. Vernon is a low effort kind of person, so getting him into costume is a lot easier when all it requires are clothes he already owns and makeup that you have to do anyway. 

Stepping away from him, you admire your handy work. His eyes are painted black, hollowed out for the skull. His dark hair is slicked back, the perfect skeleton. He looks… good. Painfully good, which makes you nervous and turn away quickly, heart flipping. You’re not sure what it says about you that Vernon staring at you while painted as a deadly skeleton makes your heart race but… it does. 

“How do I look?”

“Terrifying,” you admit, turning back to him. “But good.” 

He grins and if it were anyone else but Vernon, you’d be terrified. Maybe you did a little too good of a job. 

“What are you again?”

“One of the witches from American Horror Story Coven. Close your eyes, I’m going to use setting spray.” 

Darkness blankets the sky by the time you’re both scrambling down the steps and into an Uber. The driver does a double take when they see Vernon, eyes watching nervously in the rearview as you give him the address. 

“That’s at a closed down gas station.”

“Yep,” you agree, leaning back into the seat.

The driver mutters something about fucking college kids and fucking holiday but otherwise says nothing about the questionable location. He doesn’t need to know that a mile from the abandoned gas station is also an abandoned farmhouse notorious for unsanctioned parties and being distinctly haunted. 

Haunted isn’t your favorite thing in the world. You didn’t like to mess with ghosts, despite your area of study. You were infinitely more interested in the intersectionality of occult studies and modern culture and society and less enthused about the idea of drinking stale beer from a foamy tap in the middle of a murder house. 

If the driver thinks there’s anything weird about other people being dropped off at the gas station - you’re sure he does - he says nothing, ignoring the two of you as you get out of the car and dive into the night air. Vernon is close behind as you take a few steps away from the car, eyeing the old gas station.

The windows have long since been broken and cracked, foggy with time. The stations are stripped of their labels and stickers, just white residue left behind and no pumps. A few people lounge around the building smoking, dressed in a variety of halloween costumes. 

Nervous, you look up at Vernon. His smile is small and he juts his chin toward the dirt road that leads through the woods. Nodding, you both fall into step, sand and gravel crunching beneath your feet as you go. Vernon recognizes a few people associated with his fraternity and others, throwing a casual wave or a nod as you pass by people.

Music echoes down the road. It’s a little less foreboding in the dark trees when you can hear Michael Jackson’s thriller coming down the way and the dull roar of voices. The bend in the road straightens out, the line of trees giving way to flat land. 

The farmhouse is pretty, even in old age. It’s two stories, glowing from within from all of the battery lanterns and lights being used to light the party. A generator roars somewhere behind the house, light flooding the yard where people mingle and crowd the kegs. 

A chill slithers down your spine as you enter the yard, the broken gate doing a poor job at keeping trespassers out. Even with the lighting, shadows dance as you navigate through people, the strange anxiety crawling up your throat worsening as you near the house. 

Vernon pulls the sleeve of your dress so that you’re closer to him, his fingers steady and calm as he leads you up the steps where you can clearly hear Mingyu’s howling laughter inside. 

Bright light fills the house. As do a crush of people and beer pong tables, the abandoned home turned into a raucous display of drinking and debauchery. If you weren’t so distracted by the wave of people pushing you into Vernon’s arm, you might be impressed at how much you could forget the farm home was abandoned because someone had been murdered here. 

“I need a drink,” Vernon announces, continuing to pull your arm after him as he plunges toward what used to be the kitchen.

It’s where you find Mingyu dressed as a lifeguard - and loudly yelling directions. He blows his whistle shrilly when he sees you and Vernon, pointing at the two of you and spitting the whistle out of his mouth to scream, “NOT WET ENOUGH!”

“What a weird way to offer drinks,” you mutter. Chan, who seems to be on lifeguard assistant duty - while dressed in a horrid felt dinosaur costume - scrambles to get you drinks, spilling rum as he tips it over into a cup. “No ice?” 

“There’s not a fridge,” he pouts, shoving the cup in your hand. His eyes drink you in. “Are you a hot goth or?” 

Instead of answering him, you roll your eyes and turn to Mingyu, who blows the whistle again. Both you and Vernon wince, the latter throwing back his drink to chug it all before thrusting the cup back at Chan. “That’s gonna get real tiring.” 

Mingyu comes around the corner of the old island countertop, pumping his fists in the air to the music rattling through the house. “Vernon you look fucking sick!” He and Vernon do the little hand-clap-to-half-hug men do. Mingyu turns to look at you, eyes dark. “Are you like, a hot goth?” 

Your smile is plastic as the whistle around Mingyu’s neck. “Sure.” 

Mingyu, dancing and moving toward the living room, reaches out to you. “Come dance with me! This song fucks.”

“Decidedly not!” 

“Go ahead, Lovecraft!” Vernon urges, pushing you toward the obnoxious lifeguard with a shit-eating grin as he imitates Mingyu’s voice. “This song fucks.” 

Before you can chastise him for egging his fraternity brother on, Mingyu has you sucked into the dancing crowd, throwing his hands in the air as he swivels his way through the crowd. You try to knock back as much of the lukewarm drink as you can, cringing at the burn of cheap rum and not-iced coke. 

Bodies pressed in. Mingyu is close to you, a hand going to your waist. You frown and look over your shoulder, eyes scanning for Vernon. You know he’s probably lingering on the edge of the crowd, watching you with a smirk over the rim of his cup as he watches Mingyu roll his hips toward you.

“Mingyu,” you snap, turning back to him when you don’t find Vernon. “It’s the Monster Mash, it doesn’t require grinding.” 

“I mean, if you wanna graveyard smash…”

“You’re all insufferable! All of you!”

Still, you sway back and forth, trying to stomach finishing the rest of your horrid drink. It takes an effort, but shaking your head at Mingyu and judging him silently gets you most of the way through it until Soonyoung - dressed in the same tiger costume from last year - crashes through the crowd into the pair of you, thrilled when he realizes who it is he has slammed into. 

“Hot goth!” he screams, pointing at your outfit. “Where is your other half?” 

You don’t have to ask what Soonyoung means and both the drink and the accusation have you flushing. You shrug a shoulder, eyes surveying the party. Before either of you can find Vernon, Joshua appears at Soonyoung’s side, leaning to his ear to murmur something. Soongyoung’s face lights up and he grins at you, grabbing you by the wrist to yank you through the crowd. 

“Hello?” you demand, pulling your wrist from his grip. “Have you heard of asking?”

“Come on, I want to show you something.”

“The last time I heard that was promptly followed by you showing me that stupid peach tattoo on your ass.”

“First of all, that tattoo is amazing.” He heads to the stairs, which you eye warily. “Second, Vernon is already upstairs, come on. You like weird ghost shit, you’ll like this.”

Without waiting for a reply, Soonyoung thunders up the stairs. You cringe, waiting for a foot to go through a dry plank and send him falling. It doesn’t happen, though. Tentatively, you creep up the stairs after him, eyes glued to each of the steps as you go. 

It’s colder upstairs, the windows in the rooms open to the elements. You shiver, looking down the hall to Soonyoung heading into a bedroom. You tentatively follow him, stopping at the threshold of the doorway to survey the people inside.

Vernon is one of them, back pressed to the wall near the window, his eyes focused on his boots in front of him, hands tucked into his pockets. A girl next to him dressed as Red Riding Hood is leaning close, speaking to him rapidly. Nothing on his face indicates he’s listening. Then again, his expression is hard to read while painted as a skull, mystifying and dark as you follow Soonyoung down the hall. 

Soonyoung goes straight toward a pile of things on the floor next to Seungcheol’s feet in the corner of the room. The president of Vernon’s fraternity pays Soonyoung no mind, eyes totally focused on the pretty fox in front of him, bottom lip tucked between his teeth. 

Suddenly, the room feels too intimate for you, like everyone is a couple tucked away. You have half a mind to go back downstairs when Vernon looks up at you, dark eyes zeroing in. His face is ten times more intense with the skull paint, pinning you to the spot. 

Everything dulls to the background for a second. You don’t dare breathe, too afraid to shatter the moment as he stares at you, unblinking. His eyes glitter in the darkness of the room, two amber pools reflecting the moonlight. 

Joshua enters the room behind you, shattering the spell as you step out of his way. You turn back to Vernon, clearing your throat. He pulls a hand from his pocket, beckoning you over. Mouth dry, you obey, skittering over toward him quickly as you observe the materials that Soonyoung is sifting through in the corner. Candles. Matches. Salt. A bell. 

“Soonyoung,” you say sharply, slowing your step. “Why do you have ritual materials?”

He looks up at you, his grin wide. “Told you that you’d like this.” 

“What is this?” You turn back to Vernon, who shrugs one shoulder. 

Hesitantly, you take the unoccupied space next to him, casting the girl at his side a cursory glance. She observes your costume. “Are you a hot goth?” 

“Jesus Christ,” you mutter, head thunking against the wall as you watch Soonyoung stand, materials in hand. Vernon coughs next to you, trying to cover his laugh. You glare at him sidelong and he says nothing, but his skeleton mouth is screwed up in a smirk. “What is he doing?”

“No clue.”

Soonyoung walks over to the bedroom door, looking down the hallway before shutting it. You fight a shiver, disliking how quiet the room becomes, cut off from the rest of the world. The window near you is the only source of light, and the only one shut on the second level of the abandoned home. 

“What time is it?” Soonyoung asks Joshua.

“11:45.” 

“Perfect.” Soonyoung spins, eyes falling on you. “Want to talk to a ghost?” 

All eyes turn to you in the room. You open and close your mouth, confused. “What?” 

“Do you want to talk to a ghost? Like someone who died?” 

Your eyes drift to the candle, bell and matches in Soonyoung’s hand. A tingle spreads over your skin and your spine stiffens. “Soonyoung that better not be to invite a spirit in.” 

His grin grows. “Come on, you are the ghost major or whatever. You should be thrilled to do this.”

“Occult Studies. And that doesn’t mean I fuck with the unknown or make a mockery of the dead. We’ve been over this.” 

“It’s basically the same thing, come on. You learn it all in class.” 

“No.” 

He pouts. “You’d be best at it, though. Rumor has it that when the veil is thinnest, you can talk to the spirit that haunts this house.” 

“The murderer? Or the murdered?” Soonyoung shrugs. “I doubt either would be very happy a bunch of drunk college kids are trying to bother them. My answer is no.” 

“Ugh. I was kind of counting on you doing it.” 

“Do it yourself.”

“I don’t study ghost shit!”

“Occult! Studies!”

“Ghost shit,” Soonyoung assures the room confidently.

“I’ll do it,” Vernon sighs, pushing off the wall. “Leave her alone.” 

Soonyoung’s eyes are alight as Vernon steps toward him. You reach out to grab his wrist, pulling him back. “Don’t.” 

“It’s fine.”

“Vernon.”

His eyes are soft when he looks at you. As soft as the terrifying makeup allows, anyway. “It’s fine, Lovecraft. Let me. He’ll stop asking.”

“I’m right here.”

“We know,” you and Vernon say in unison. You feel warm, chewing the inside of your cheek before nodding. You drop his wrist and turn to Soonyoung, eyes hard. “Give me that, you’ll do it wrong. Tell me what the mythos is.”

“What math? You need math?”

“The story, Soonyoung. What is the fucking story of this house?”

“Right. Apparently some dude murdered his girlfriend in here and then hung himself in that closet.” He points to a door you didn’t see when you walked in, dark and far away from the window. “Legend says at midnight, ring the bell three times and step into the closet with a candle. If the candle blows out, the spirit is with you. If it doesn’t, it didn’t work.” 

Grabbing the items from Soonyoung’s hand, you look at Vernon. “When you’re done, ring the bell three times again and say: Thank you, I dismiss thee. Go in peace.” 

“Thank you,” Vernon repeats gently, taking the bell from your hand. “I dismiss thee. Go in peace.”

“Everyone else take candles,” you direct, voice rough with irritation. You glare at Soonyoung and Seungcheol in particular as you shove candles in their hands. “Stand in the four corners of the room. Did you bring sage, Soonyoung?”

“Bring what?”

“Of course not, why would you?” Everyone starts moving to the corner of the room, using matches to light their candles. The room feels unnaturally cold now, despite your long sleeves. Turning back to Vernon, you say, “It’s probably a stupid rumor.”

“Probably.”

“If your candle goes out, just ring the bell, say the words, and dismiss it.” 

“Right.” 

“You don’t have to do it, Vernon.”

His mouth kicks up at the corner. “I’m not worried, Lovecraft. You are.” 

Letting out a breath, you give a laugh that’s only half-there. You are nervous. You don’t like the idea of inviting a spirit into Vernon’s space, and though Soonyoung’s little ritual doesn’t really sound right, you’re not going to correct him. 

Still, you feel unsettled as you light your own candle and then Vernon’s. He cradles it in his hands as you escort him to the door. Tucked under your arm is the canister of salt. Crouching down, you pour the salt in a thick white light in front of the door, careful to ensure that there are no breaks and that it covers the entire entryway from corner to corner.

“Be careful when you step over it and when you open the door,” you instruct, standing up. The candle in your hand flickers unsteadily. “Don’t break the line. The idea is that if Soonyoung’s stupid summoning works, the spirit can’t get through the salt.”

“Banishing and all that,” Vernon recalls with a smile. Your heart flips. “I remember.” 

“Come on, you only have a minute!” Soonyoung calls eagerly. 

Shooting him a glare that silences him, you turn back to Vernon. “Ring the bell three times. Thank you, I dismiss thee. Go in peace.”

“Got it.” 

Unsettled you shuffle back from the door a little bit. You don’t go to a corner of the room like you’ve asked everyone else, unwilling to totally leave him by himself. Heart hammering, you hold your candle in front of you, cradling the warmth like a second heart. 

Vernon is unbothered. You can see it in the loose set of his shoulders and the way he sighs, already tired of Soonyoung’s antics. The party downstairs feels a million miles away as you watch Vernon stand in front of the closed closet door, looking up at it, unimpressed.

“It’s midnight,” Joshua whispers from the corner. 

Vernon doesn’t make any sound that he’s heard Joshua, but he lifts the little bell in his hand. It’s a hand bell, the wood grip worn and cracked. You wonder where Soonyoung got it from, having half a mind to ask him when the first clear ring of the bell disrupts your thoughts. 

The note sings through the air, your blood turning to ice in your veins. It feels like your pulse is throbbing in your neck as Vernon rings the bell hard a second time, the sound chasing the echo of the first. The third ring feels like a tremor in the air, warbling as Vernon quickly sets the bell on the floor, careful not to extinguish his candle flame. 

You hold your breath when he sets his hand on the doorknob. No one makes a sound as he twists it open. He pulls on the door and it comes away with a silent swing. The darkness on the other side is gaping, like there’s no back to the closet, just a wide hole of nothing. 

Vernon doesn’t seem to mind. He steps over the line of salt carefully until he’s in the middle of the closet, pivoting to face you. The orange flicker of his candle casts a haunting glow over his skull face. You swallow down a brief moment of fear before he winks and leans forward to pull the door shut.

For a long moment, there’s nothing. You feel your heart hammering in your chest, the thudthudthud so loud you swear everyone else in the room can hear it. No one moves, everyone fixated on the door. The silence is so piercing that your ears start to ring, the sound of the party completely unreachable over your mounting anxiety. 

“Well?” Soonyoung whispers somewhere behind you. “I guess it didn’t work.” 

Vernon begins pounding on the door. Someone screams behind you followed by a bunch of curses. You leap forward, heart in your throat as Vernon screams something unintelligible on the other side. You drop your candle, completely throwing caution to the wind as you grab the doorknob and twist. 

It doesn’t move.

“Vernon?” you ask, voice spiking with fear. “Let go of the doorknob, let me turn it. Vernon!”

The pounding doesn’t stop. He is screaming in a way you’ve never heard before, his fists rattling the door against the frame. You shriek his name back, yanking at the door frantically, your panic mounting as he screams and- 

When the door opens, you nearly fall backward with the force of it, stumbling over your feet. Soonyoung steadies you, to your surprise. You hadn’t realized he had left his corner of the room to help, his hand warm and firm. 

Vernon stands on the other side of the door, mouth pressed in a firm line. 

“You fucking asshole,” Soonyoung swears, throwing his unlit candle at Vernon. Vernon laughs, dodging it. “You fucking suck.”

“Yeah, well don’t ask me to do stupid shit.” Vernon steps out of the closet, eyes dropping to you. His mirth is edged with something sharp, a glint in his eyes that is wholly unfamiliar. “I was kidding.”

“You fucking asshole!” You screech at him, slamming your hands into his chest and knocking him back a little. He smirks and says nothing, letting you hit him a few times. “Why would you do that to me? What is wrong with you?” 

“Sorry.”

“Yeah, you sound really fucking sorry.” Anger sours your mouth. Turns your words to poison. Your throat tightens up and you feel the telltale sign of tears, equal parts livid, embarrassed and offended that Vernon would do such a thing. “Fuck you, Vernon.”

Someone laughs awkwardly as you storm off. Vernon calls your name but you ignore him, bolting down the hall and down the stairs. The wood creaks uncertainty under your feet but you don’t care. You want to be anywhere but here, the hot lick of embarrassment burning your heels as you go. 

You blow past Chan on your way out, his bleary eyes following you. “Nooo,” he whines. “Hot goth, come back to me!”

“Shut up, Chan!” You scream, slamming down the steps as you go.

People nearly dive out of your way, swiveling to watch the wake of your wrath as you leave the party. You ignore them, not wanting anyone to see the hot tears that spill over as you hit the dirt road, boots crunching. 

It’s hard to tell what’s worse. The fact that Vernon had played a joke on you he knew you wouldn’t like, or the way you had panicked and lost all resolve to be the one in charge. Both feel awful, but the sting of Vernon’s joke is the sharper of the two, cutting you to the quick.

Vernon has never dared to do something like that in your entire friendship. You have no idea why he did it now. Was it because he had an audience? Was he drunk? Was he actually like the members of his fraternity he associated with? 

You had no idea, which only made things worse. Above anyone else, you thought you knew Vernon best. But perhaps, you didn’t know Vernon at all, which was far worse than any sort of haunted spirit you could imagine. 

-

The next morning, you don’t hear from Vernon. It makes your blood boil, a nasty feeling forming in the pit of your stomach as you put your phone on Do Not Disturb. You put on a big set of headphones, blaring music to keep you sane as you set about cleaning your apartment furiously. 

It’s an okay distraction. The lull of clinical cleaning is nice and the music soothes the sting that nips at your heels like an incessant hound. When you run out of things to clean, though, you’re forced to face the fact that it’s nearly evening and Vernon still hasn’t said anything to you.

You don’t want to text him first. Your pride is wounded from the night before and you’re shocked he hasn’t apologized - he should apologize. The silence only makes you angrier, and with nothing left to clean in your apartment, you decide to think of all the things you’re going to say to him when he does finally reach out to you. Because you’re not saying anything first. 

Vernon’s radio silence makes it nearly impossible to sleep. You toss and turn in bed, unable to get comfortable, checking your phone and social media. It’s difficult to remember the last time you went over twenty four hours without hearing from Vernon, and the realization forms a pit in your stomach.

Maybe the silence was good. Maybe you were too reliant on his friendship, the one constant that you had grown far too fond of. Maybe he was into that girl last night, making a show of you because he wanted to make her laugh or maybe he was just putting you in your place.

The insecurity wars with your logic that Vernon wouldn’t do that. He’s never had a history of that kind of behavior before, and though he might tease you on occasion, you have never been the butt of his jokes or the target of his humor. 

Jokes like that aren’t even Vernon’s style. He doesn’t like cruelty, and that’s what pretending to be screaming for help was. It was cruel, and strange and it hurt. 

What hurts more is the silence continuing into a second day. By the late afternoon, though, the hurt has morphed into something else. You sit on your couch, staring at the phone on your coffee table. Your pride was begging you not to text him, but your worry was starting to chip away at you. 

Heaving a sigh, you pick up the phone. The tap of your nails against the glass screen is loud in your quiet apartment, the final rays of sun melting through the blinds while a candle burns on the counter. 

[You 5:14 PM]: So are we not talking? 

Setting the phone down, you immediately start making dinner. It doesn’t matter that you’re too early. You’re nervous waiting for his text back, which makes you feel ridiculous. Then you feel ridiculous for feeling ridiculous, validating yourself that it is totally okay to have feelings and be nervous.

“God,” you mutter under your breath. “I’m exhausting.” 

By the time you’ve had dinner and watched a full episode of Alice in Borderland, Vernon has said nothing. Worry eats away at the lining of your stomach. You pause the show and pick up the phone again, dialing his number.

On the other side of the line, the phone rings. And rings. And rings. 

You hang up when you get the automated voicemail, frowning. It’s all strange, and a nagging feeling tugs at your nervous system but you can’t put your finger on it.

Just as you set the dishes in the sink, your phone starts to ping. You’re grateful no one can see you in your apartment as you lurch to the phone, picking it up and unlocking it to see if it’s Vernon. It isn’t, but your heart starts to thud when your group chats with other friends and classmates in projects flood with the same rumor over and over.

A dead body had been found on campus. 

Vernon doesn’t live on campus, but it doesn’t stop you from calling him again. And again. And again. When the voicemail turns on a fourth time, you seethe into the phone, fingers gripping it so hard it feels like it’ll break. “Call me back you fucking asshole! Someone died on campus and you’re not answering and I just need to know it’s not you. Fuck!” 

Time passes and you get so desperate you do the one thing you didn’t want to do unless it was dire circumstances. You hit dial and bring your phone up to your ear, pinching the bridge of your nose to prepare yourself for when Mingyu answers the phone. 

“Am I dreaming?” he says by way of greeting. “It was the life guard costume, right?” 

“Mingyu, it wasn’t a costume. You were shirtless with board shorts.” 

“But it worked, right?”

“Have you heard from Vernon?” 

“Nah, why?” 

“Like you haven’t seen him at all since the party?” 

“Mmm. I don’t think so.” There’s a muffled sound on the phone like he’s trying to cover it when he yells, “Chan, have you seen that fuck head Vernon?” You wait impatiently, holding the phone further from your ear as Minguy yells. “Chan hasn’t seen him either.” 

“Isn’t that weird? I haven’t been able to get a hold of him.”

“Nah, I mean we never really see him. Usually he’s with you.”

“Right. And he isn’t with me, I haven’t seen him since the party.” 

“Well have you checked his apartment?” You hesitate. “Helloooo?”

“No.”

“Well. Do that. He’s probably sleeping or some shit, who knows.” 

“Great. You were so helpful,” you deadpan.

Mingyu sounds genuinely happy when he says, “I’m so glad!”

You hang up the phone before he can say anything else. 

Chewing your nail, you stare at the wall, mind racing.  Mingyu has a point that it’s normal for them to never see Vernon. He is usually with you, or he’s solitary. There is little in between. He also has a point that most of the time if you were looking for Vernon, you’d just swing by his apartment. 

The thought of seeing him again makes you want to curl in on yourself, but your concern weighs out. You get dressed and grab your keys, trying not to let your fear of what you might find there keep you from leaving. 

Opening the door to your apartment, you get one foot out the door and then slam directly into Vernon. You reel backward, eyebrows shooting up as he steadies you by the elbow, equally surprised to see you as though he wasn’t at your doorstep. 

“Easy there,” he greets, a half smile on his face.

Vernon looks totally normal. He definitely doesn’t look like he was murdered, and he’s dressed in his usual jeans, plain black shirt, and a backwards hat. For a second, you just stare at him, totally shocked and utterly relieved he isn’t dead.

Then, the anger comes. 

You slam a hand into his chest, cursing at him. “Where?” Slap. “Have?” Slap. “You?” Slap. “Been?” 

He takes the blows in stride. His chest is firm beneath your palm, heart beating steadily. Alive. And now that you’ve established he’s not dead, you feel so much anger ripple through you that you don’t let him answer before you’re pivoting on your foot and storming back into your apartment.

The sound of the door closing behind you followed by his shuffling as he takes his shoes off tells you he hasn’t left. A small part of you curls in satisfaction with the domesticity of his arrival, but it is blotted out by the hurt and rage at the surface of your emotions.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” You demand. It isn’t as eloquent as your practiced rant, but it’s something. “You better explain yourself. And quickly.”

Vernon’s dark eyes connect with yours, simmering. You feel your heart lurch as he slinks over to the kitchen, never taking his gaze off you. The back of your neck tingles. Vernon never keeps this much eye contact and it’s both thrilling and unnerving. 

“I want to apologize,” he murmurs, pitching his voice low. You watch with trepidation as he reaches out to gather your hand in his. He folds your fingers under his, pulling your hand to his chest. Your breath quickens, pulse throbbing as he cradles your fist to his chest, his heartbeat steady. “I fucked up. I wanted to fuck with Soonyoung but I did it at the expense of you, and for that I’m deeply sorry.”

Warmth spreads from his hand to yours. You don’t know what to make of the apology - it’s so unlike him. Vernon has no problem apologizing when he’s wrong, but he’s usually not so confident, so well spoken. You stare and stare, that pitless gaze of his pinned on you. 

“I just…” You chew the inside of your cheek. “You really hurt my feelings, Vernon.” His hands tighten around yours and he tugs a little, pulling you closer. It’s harder to think when you’re this close, fingers wrapped in his. “You really scared me and then you vanished for nearly three days. Why did you do that?” 

“I wasn’t feeling well and I slept most of the days away. Honestly.”

“You weren’t feeling well?”

He gives you a look. “I see the skepticism. I’m serious, I just… wasn’t myself. I tried to rest and I didn’t hear my phone and I’m sorry. Really.”

Vernon’s apology settles around you like a weight. You watch him, contemplating what to do next. He doesn’t look ill, his gold skin as flawless as ever, his rosy lips tucked under his teeth as he watches you, waiting. His heart thuds under your palm, his thumb absently brushing back and forth over the top of your hand.

Breathing becomes difficult. Vernon isn’t overly affectionate, but the way he presses your hand to his chest now sends you down a dangerous path. The desire for him bubbles just below your surface and you’re terrified it’ll boil over, exposing everything you’ve ever thought about him.

“Alright,” you say softly, pulling your hand from his. He lets you. “Don’t ever do something like that to me again. It was scary and I felt stupid. And I thought you were dead.”

“Why?” 

Gesturing to the couch, the two of you plop down, seemingly back to normal. You’re still a little off kilter, but you report back to Vernon what your classmates had been saying. He grabs your remote and turns on the news, settling close enough to you that your thighs brush against one another. You shoot him a questioning look but he’s fixated on the TV, leaning forward to press his elbows into his knees.

The reporter on the news confirms the body of one of your fellow students had indeed been found on campus. Names and details were not yet available, but they were interviewing students about whether or not they felt safe on campus. By the second interview, Vernon was turning off the TV and leaning back.

“Freaky,” you murmur, tapping the arm of the couch. “Weird timing, right?”

“How so?”

“We just had a Halloween party in a weird murder house.”

Vernon goes silent. You turn to look at him, eyes searching. He stares at you, again the eye contact unsettling. Even though it feels like your Vernon sitting next to you, there is an edge to him that’s new. You don’t know what to do with it, shifting in your seat a little.

“Forget the murder house,” he says eventually, flicking his fingers in dismissal. “That party sucked and I’d rather forget it.”

“Yeah,” you murmur, eyeing him as he looks out the window. You swear he’s agitated, but you can’t pinpoint why. “Me too.”

-

Someone sitting down roughly next to you draws your attention away from your essay, barely audibly over the sound of Current Blue playing through your headphones. You raise a brow as Vernon slings his belongings on the table unceremoniously, uncaring how loud he is in the library.

You glance around, seeing that he’s attracted the attention of a few people at nearby tables, some scowling, others blushing. When you turn your gaze back to him, you see his mouth moving as he divests his bag of its contents, but you can’t hear him. 

Pulling your headphones from your head, you ask, “What?” 

“Can you help me with my organic chem assignment?” 

“I hate chemistry.” 

His mouth twitches as he opens his laptop. “Right, but you’re good at it. You’re the smartest person in school.”

Again, something nags at your instincts. You can’t pinpoint it, examining Vernon more closely. He looks totally normal, dressed in black jeans, a black shirt, and a jean jacket pulled over it. He’s without a hat today, his hair falling in messy strands over his brow as he sets up his area to study.

Sensing your gaze, he turns to look at you, eyebrow raised. “What?” 

“You seem different.”

“Different how?” He types on his computer to start bringing up his chemistry homework. “Different as in going to fail organic chem without your help?” 

“Oh shut up. I’m obviously going to help you.” 

His mouth is wicked when he grins. “Good.” 

When Vernon looks up at you, the world stops a little. His gaze today is fathomless, dark eyes smooth like the surface of a lake with no end. You tip into that gaze, letting yourself drown in it for a moment. Normally, Vernon would break eye contact by now, easily distracted or unrealizing that he’s got you stuck on him. 

Now, he doesn’t do that. He looks right back at you. Heat crawls up your neck and your breaths quicken. For the first time since you’ve known him, Vernon looks at you like he knows everything inside your locked-tight heart. 

You lick your lips and his gaze dips to your mouth. Inside your chest, your hummingbird heart hammers, threatening to break free. The corner of Vernon’s mouth tilts upward as his eyes meet yours again, and you watch, completely frozen, as he leans toward you. 

Vernon is so close you can smell the spicy cologne on his skin. It’s heady and makes you dizzy, and you watch, totally lost as he wraps his hand around the leg of your chair and tugs hard. You yelp, startling a few people around you as he yanks your chair next to his, your thighs pressed together. 

“What are you doing?” you whisper harshly at him, throwing an apologetic look at the people you’ve disturbed for a second time. 

“How are you going to help me from over there?”

“You could have asked me to move my chair.” 

The problem isn’t that he moved your chair. Not really. The problem is how close he is, leg pressed against yours and elbows touching as he shrugs and turns his computer screen toward you. The problem is how at ease he is with you nearly on top of him, his lazy smile making your thoughts tangle and your breath quicken. 

This Vernon is still the one you’re used to but there’s something about him that keeps you on edge. Keeps you looking at him when his hand brushes against yours to grab a pen, or when he leans back and puts his arm across the back of your chair, idly playing with the hood of your jacket.

It’s almost like he’s flirting, and you spend half the time stumbling through his homework, barely able to assist him in a meaningful way because you’re busy decoding the subtle touches and the light teasing. You feel yourself blush more and look the other way to collect yourself more in the hour you help him than you have your entire friendship, unsure what’s happening or how to handle it. 

Homework completed, Vernon stares off into the distance, his finger twisting in the string of your hoodie absently as you try to write the rest of your paper. It’s nearly impossible to concentrate like this, the intimacy more than you’re used to. 

“You’re very distracting today,” you comment as you reference a text to the right of your screen. “Are you aware of that?” 

He hums. “This is hardly a distraction. I could try harder, though.”

You cut a glance at him. He seems utterly serious, any sort of mirth nonexistent in his expression. There’s just that shadowed gaze, that spark of something right where you can’t reach it. You abruptly stand, surprising him as you knock his arm away from you and clear your throat. 

“I need a different text. It’s downstairs, though.” 

“I’ll come with you.” You raise your brows and he shrugs. “I’ve got nothing else to do.” 

“Sure.” 

Without another word, you pivot on your heel and nearly run for the far set of stairs that lead to the subterranean level of the library where all the old texts and books exist. Vernon follows you at a casual pace, still totally at ease despite the fact that you’re obviously unraveling.

You have no idea what his sudden interest in you is and it’s making you unspool, thoughts wild and racing as you reach the stairwell that leads down. 

Damp air greets you as you start down the steps and it smells like wet carpet. You cringe, hating every time you have to come here. It’s always poorly lit and damp, not at all what one would expect from a library trying to keep books from molding. But no one really comes down here anyway, only the history majors and people like you, who require weird books long retired from the main shelves.

It’s eerie in the old stacks. There are lamps above head casting a burnt orange glow over the green, shag carpet but otherwise it’s nearly impossible to see in the shadowy parts of the room. You certainly could never read a book down here. 

Vernon is silent behind you but you can feel him, his gaze burning into your back as you navigate toward the last set of rows. As you approach, you hear a sound, stopping you dead in your tracks. Vernon crashes into you, nearly knocking you over but his hands grab you, steadying you and holding you close to his chest. 

For the first time today, you’re able to ignore his nearness in favor of straining your ears for the sound you heard, a small whimper, perhaps. You hear it again, distinctly human. Your heart starts to pound as you remember that just the day before there was a body found on campus, mind racing with thoughts as you stand rooted to the spot, Vernon pressed against you.

Craning your head, you look up at him. His expression is unreadable as he looks at you through long lashes, face shadowed. There’s a soft bang, like someone knocking something over. He looks over your head and back at you, shrugging his shoulder as if to say your choice. 

Slowly, you move forward. Vernon keeps close, his heat radiating behind you like a furnace as you creep through the last few rows of shelving. As you near the third one, you stop and peer around the corner, eyes trying to adjust in the shitty lighting. 

What you see has you snapping back around the stack, mouth dropping open. Vernon, curious, leans around you to peer around the stack. He raises his brows and steps backward, mouth pressed in a firm line to conceal his laugh. 

In the next row over is a girl you vaguely recognize, naked from the waist down while someone who is very much not her boyfriend, pumps their fingers between her legs. Slapping Vernon’s chest you point toward the door, silently screaming at him to turn around and hightail it out of there. 

Vernon, for a second, bites his lower lip and wags his eyebrows at you, suggestive. You glare and shove his chest. He goes easily, grinning at you playfully as he turns on his heel and heads back up to the main floor. 

When you reach your table, you drop down in the chair, totally shocked. Vernon drops down next to you, laughing. “Listen, when the urge hits, I guess.”

“I guess,” you agree sharply, shaking your head. “That was not her boyfriend, though.”

“No shit?” 

“Yeah. She’s dating some dude in Sigma whatever.” 

Vernon’s gaze turns sharp and his eyes trail back toward the far side of the library, resting on the stairs. “Interesting.” 

“Not really. That seems to happen a lot among you Greek lifers.” 

“I would never do that.” The severity of his declaration has you looking up from your notebook. Vernon’s expression is cutting, his jaw flexing. “I would never participate in infidelity. Ever.” 

“I didn’t mean you, Vernon.” 

“I’m not like that.” 

You soften a little, guilt tugging at you. So often you remember that Vernon isn’t like a lot of the people around him and grouping him in is unfair and insensitive. 

“I know. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it like that.” 

He nods once, turning from you to pack up his stuff. Somehow, you can’t help but feel like you’ve said the wrong thing. 

-

“Oh shit,” Vernon mutters. You look up from where you’re flipping a grilled cheese in the pan. He holds his phone out to you from where he leans against his kitchen counter. “They found another body. Same MO or whatever as the first.” 

“No way?” 

Putting down the spatula, you grab his phone from him where he has the article pulled up. Sure enough, there’s been another murder on campus. Your eyes drink in the details, similar as before: student victim, stab wounds, message written on the wall. 

“What is the Hello Darling Murder?” you ask, more to yourself than Vernon. “It’s linked here as a reference to these being copycat murders.” He says nothing. You read out loud, “The Hello Darling Murder is a case of a murder suicide that happened in the same town in 1979. It was the town’s first violent domestic crime in years, and drew national media attention for the gruesome crime scene in which a message had been written on the wall in blood.” 

Vernon makes an amused sound. You look up at him sharply, staring. He has his arms crossed over his chest, staring at the floor with a mildly bemused expression. You kick him and he looks up at you. “What?”

“Why are you laughing? That’s not funny.”

“The way people sensationalize murder is weird.” 

“I mean, I agree. But what is funny?”

“It’s not funny as in funny ha ha,” he clarifies. “It’s funny stupid. The media is going to sensationalize this and turn it into an entire thing.” 

“Yeah, well. That’s their job.” 

Off put by his dark mirth, you turn back to the article, reading further. You skip over the old murder, more interested in the details of the two new ones. Your heart seizes in your chest when you see the name and picture of the second victim, stomach roiling. 

He sees your expression, pushing off the counter toward you, hands shooting your arms. “What? What’s wrong?” 

In any other scenario, you’d be overwhelmed by the sudden care and affection. Now, you just turn the phone toward him, showing him the photo. “It’s that girl from the library. Her name was Sidney. She’s the one I told you was cheating on her boyfriend.” 

Nothing registers in his face when he looks at the phone, his hands still resting on your arms lightly. He looks away from the screen and at you instead, a sharpness to his gaze that’s there so often you’re starting to grow used to it.

“You’re burning the grilled cheese, Lovecraft.” 

-

Mosquitos nip at your skin as you walk down the narrow path between trees. You slap your hand against your neck again, muttering under your breath. Vernon chuckles next to you, keeping his pace even as you struggle to step over a fallen tree branch. 

You hate the woods at night. It’s not your first time going to a bonfire deep in the woods off campus, but you don’t know why you keep coming back. Tripping over another branch, Vernon catches you by the arm and steadies you, stopping to make sure you’re okay before he lets go.

Scratch that. You do know why you keep coming back. For as long as you’ve been friends, you’ve been Vernon’s permanent plus one to all of his parties, formals and events, even if both of you hate going. It’s become a weird obligation to show up at things like this as a pair. 

They aren’t always terrible, you have to admit. When Mingyu isn’t absolutely hammered, he’s mostly tolerable to be around. Soonyoung isn’t bad either, though you’re still pissed off at him for the Halloween party incident, unwilling to talk to him. 

But nights like this where you have to trek out into the middle of the woods using your phone’s flashlight to navigate, you sort of loathe your unspoken oath to attend with Vernon. 

Instead of focusing on the distaste and the inherent anxiety the shadows of the trees give you, you let Vernon help you slide down a ditch and climb up the other side. His fingers are firm on your wrist, not quite holding your hand but keeping you connected. 

Your skin is warm and tingles when he lets go, deeming it safe enough to let you walk yourself. It’s easier to see now, too, the orange light of the massive bonfire casting a circle of orange glow that only grows as you near the party. 

Party is perhaps too strong of a word for it. There can’t be more than twenty people in the small clearing surrounding the roaring fire the Soonyoung tends to, foldable chairs and coolers arranged in a circle. Chan is trying to roast a marshmallow and failing, the white snack immediately catching fire and singing in the heat of the fire. 

Mingyu whistles when he sees you, catching your attention to wave you over to a pair of seats by him and Chan. You make your way there, navigating through groups of people clutching plastic cups and stepping over various sizes of coolers. 

The heat from Soonyoung’s inferno is nearly unbearable, making you cringe back as he adds something that cracks and pops, sending bits of orange ash floating toward the sky. 

“Jesus Christ, Soonyoung!” Seungcheol complains from his seat where a girl sits on his knee. “Enough, it’s fucking hot!” 

“Sorry,” Soonyoung answers, sheepish. 

Backing your chair away from the fire a little, you sit down and curl into the folding chair, accepting the drink Vernon hands you before moving his chair closer to yours and sitting down. A shiver ripples through you at the cool can in your hands. You crack the top and take a sip, trying to cool down from the blast of heat you’d taken while passing the fire.

Mingyu turns to you and Vernon as Chan pops a burned marshmallow in his mouth, the two of them immediately launching into discussions of the murders. You shift uncomfortably in your chair, listening as they recount the details in the news mixed with the rumors on campus. 

So far, two bodies have been discovered and linked together. The authorities don’t want to call it a serial killer, attempting to avoid a media craze and inspiring the killer to go on a spree, but denying the murders are connected is impossible.

You’re unsure what the victims have in common. The first had been a male senior who was in the business track, discovered by the dorms near the lake on campus. The second had been the girl you’d seen in the library in her apartment off campus, and Sidney had been in the education track and a junior. 

Neither of them were friends. You don’t go to a large university, but there are enough students that it’s normal to have a ton of people that you don’t know. From what anyone can tell, there was nothing the two victims had in common.

Except that they’d been murdered by someone who had left a bloody Hello Darling written at the crime scene.

A chill sweeps over you as Mingyu mentions the Hello Darling Murderer. It was the same story as before - a man had murdered his girlfriend in the 70s, a shocking and violent domestic crime that had unsettled the citizens and local university. He’d promptly killed himself after that, leaving only a bloody Hello Darling on the walls.

Authorities didn’t even know who the blood had belonged to - it took them so long to realize the couple was missing before they did a wellness check that by the time they investigated, they’d been dead a week. 

Vernon snorts at that and mutters something about the ineptitude of law enforcement. You cut your eyes at him. Though you agree, Vernon is usually the last person to make degrading comments - or comment at all really. 

Not for the first time in the last two weeks, you can’t help but sense that honed edge to him he has now. You’ve attributed it to him moving with more confidence, talking to people directly and making actual eye contact. You don’t know where the sudden swell in self-conviction has come from, but you’d be lying if you said it didn’t look good on him.

Still, it’s got you a little uneasy, trying to adjust to this version of him. 

The topic shifts to football and you find yourself tuning everyone out, sipping your cider and staring at the fire as it warms your feet. More people arrive and drag chairs up. Someone hauls a few kegs into the firelight, cheers going around the fire.

Vernon stands and holds his hand up for your empty can. You give it to him wordlessly and he heads to get you a refresh, tossing the trash into one of the trash bins.

Turning to Mingyu as he goes, you ask quietly, “Has he seemed different to you lately?” 

“Who?”

“Steve Jobs,” you deadpan. “Vernon, obviously.”

“I don’t think so? He’s around a lot more lately and actually talks to us.” Mingyu pauses, thinking as he cocks his head to the side. “I mean, I guess that is kind of weird for him. He also actually goes to places with us now.” 

“Exactly what I mean.”

“Hey! We are friends, you know?” 

You hum uncertainty, your attention trailing back to Vernon. You observe him, noticing all the little details that are different. He stands a little bit straighter, inserts himself in conversations where he didn’t before.

Now, he stands near the keg, nodding along to something the girl next to him is saying. They’re standing close - you realize it’s the same girl from the Halloween party that had been talking to him, except this time, he’s talking back. 

Vernon leans in close to her and says something, making her laugh. He bites his lower lip a little, watching her with half-lidded eyes. Your stomach turns a little, eyes glued as he brushes her arm when he reaches for the cup that Joshua hands him. 

Turning away from them, you tune yourself into Chan’s conversation, needing a distraction. You try not to count the minutes until Vernon returns. When he does, the girl is with him. He drags a chair over so she can sit on the other side of him. 

It’s close, their knees touching when he sits and hands her the drink he was holding for her. He turns and holds out your drink to you, which sloshes a little when you snatch the cup from his hand. He arches his brows but you say nothing, taking a large gulp and turning your back on him to ask Chan about football instead. 

“You watch football?” Chan asks cryptically. 

“Sure. Go Green Bay Ravens.” 

He stares. “Packers. Green Bay Packers.”

“That’s what I said.”

“Hey, I’m not arguing with you. In fact, if you want to tell me what’s what more often-”

You scoff. “Shut up, Chan!”

Stuck between Vernon flirting with the girl next to him and Chan and Mingyu being - Chan and Mingyu - sours your mood. You try to lose yourself in your cup, going mute as you stare at the fire. Vernon hardly notices the shift in your mood, leaning in to the girl as they chat. 

You can’t help but notice everything about them. It’s impossible not to see the way she leans into him, bumping shoulders when she laughs. He lets her, watching her with a gaze you can only describe as hungry. The grip on your cup tightens as he knocks their knees together when he shifts in his chair, leaving it pressed against hers. 

It reminds you of the way he’d behaved in the library with you, brushing against you on purpose, making his words come out in a playful pur instead of what you’re used to, and seeing him do it with her now makes you snap. 

You stand abruptly, drawing the attention of Chan and Mingyu but not who you want. 

“I’m going for a walk.”

“Need company?” Chan offers. It seems genuine, but you give him a sharp no before you’re walking away, sticks snapping underneath your boots as you go. 

Chill air licks your face as you get further from the fire. There are plenty of people dispersed throughout the general area, some people pulled far away for intimate conversations, others pulled away to pass a joint in a circle, the pungent smell chasing you as you pass them. 

Away from the smoke and the noise, you feel like you can breathe a little more. You find a fallen tree, thick enough to sit on. You test your weight on it first before deciding it’s safe, swinging your leg to straddle it and look off into the dark trees.

There’s just enough light from the silver moon above your head and from the distant fire to feel safe. Wrapping your arms around your middle, you hug yourself and close your eyes, breathing in deep. The fire smoke isn’t strong here, the air clean and crisp.

Opening your eyes, you look at the sky. This far out in the country, you can see the stars. Out of habit, you start mapping out all the constellations you know, eyes tracing Orion the Hunter. You skip over to Andromeda, counting each star before moving to the east to spot Cassiopeia. 

It reminds you of the time you taught Vernon all the different constellations. He’d been a silent and attentive listener, watching as you’d pointed them all out while sitting on a bench at the park. You’ve caught him drawing them more than once in his chemistry notebooks, little dots of perfect constellations memorized. 

An ache you’re familiar with fills your chest. It’s the same ache you had when you realized you had feelings for him but didn’t want to tell him. The same ache you had when he’d hurt your feelings on Halloween. The same ache as when you’d seen him actually look back at someone who's interested in him, for once. 

Crying seems silly, but suddenly you have the urge to, throat twisting as you stare at the sky and try to puzzle out the direction your friendship has gone since that night. As you sit on the tree, a prickling sense of awareness creeps up your spine, tugging at you. 

Looking around, you see nothing. You can generally see in a good circumference, but the sudden instinct that something or someone is watching you drives you to get off the branch, hitting the ground with both feet to stride back toward the fire. 

As you go, your foot gets stuck in a tangle of tree roots again, making you stumble. You curse, bending down through squinted eyes to untangle your foot. Your fingers are a little cold and shaking, anxiety creeping up slowly as you pull the weeds and roots away from your shoe. 

Something snaps behind you. Your fingers freeze, head whipping around to look for the source of the noise. Again, you see nothing but your heart is hammering. You don’t dare to breathe, holding your breath as you strain your ears to hear anything else. There’s only crickets and an owl in the distance, no more snapping branches.

In that moment, it occurs to you that you’ve decided to wander out in the woods at night and alone after two recent murders. The stupidity of your actions land like a blow.

Turning back around, you wrench your shoe free and stand up, nearly colliding with Vernon who leans backward to avoid smacking into you as you shriek in surprise, stepping backward. Vernon’s hand darts out to grab you, catching you and tugging you forward into him before you can lose your balance fully.

Heart hammering, your fingers dig into his biceps, keeping yourself standing as you hiss, “What are you doing?”

“What do you mean what am I doing? You’re wandering out in the middle of the woods while there is an active serial killer in town.” 

“Oh please, like you noticed.”

He frowns. You drop your hands and try to step away from him, eager to put some distance between you. Vernon’s grip on you tightens though, keeping you where you’re standing. “I’m here, I obviously noticed.” You snort derisively and his grip tightens a little. “Is there something you want to say?”

You open and close your mouth, scowling at him. He’s never so direct you’re unsure how to approach the question. So you try for a little bit of honesty. “I wasn’t having fun.” 

“Okay, so let’s leave.”

“You look like you were having fun.” 

Silence hangs in the air. Vernon’s face is indecipherable. Then, “Are you jealous?”

“Don’t be ridiculous.”

Your response is so fast that it even sounds practiced and hollow to you. It’s hard not to wince, hoping that as always, he doesn’t see through your cellophane defense. Vernon’s touch drops from your biceps to your wrist, delicate. You’re afraid to look him in the eye, instead staring at the buttons on his jean jacket. 

“I noticed you were gone.” His voice is gentle, a low purr. You dart a quick glance at him to see the intensity of his gaze. It makes you squirm, unsure how to respond. “I always notice when you’re gone.”

“Alright. Well.” 

“I notice everything about you.” 

The way he says it is a soft whisper. A promise, a suggestion. Again, it feels like Vernon has discovered your loose thread, tugging lightly on it. If he tugs again, you think you might unspool all the way, showing him everything you don’t want him to see. 

It feels like he wants to, and that’s what scares you more. That suddenly he’s looking at you like he wants to see past the veneer of your words, like he’s ready to look inside. You hear the double meaning. It’s so terrifying that you look away from him, ready to hide. 

“Don’t tease me,” you whisper. 

“I’m not. If you’re not having fun, let’s go home. I came here with you.” He tugs your wrist. “Come on. You can’t be walking around out here alone with a killer on the loose, Lovecraft. I’ll be forced to fight them off.” 

The tension fades. You let out a breath and laugh, looking at him skeptically. “Yeah? You’re going to fight for me?” 

His grip on your wrist tightens. You wonder if he can feel the speed of your pulse under his thumb, the way it hammers when he smirks. “Yeah, I am.” 

-

Sal’s Pizzeria isn’t your favorite place to do school work. It’s too loud and bright, the promise of food is way too distracting for you to focus for much longer than a few minutes at a time, and usually your fingers are too slippery with pizza grease to type properly. 

You only have a narrow window to finish writing your paper before going to the bar for Jihoon’s birthday. You barely know him, but he’s someone Vernon is decently close enough too that you feel obligated to attend. More importantly, you’re finally almost done with your paper you’ve been working on for two weeks, eager to celebrate hitting submit. 

“You know that dude who was killed first was a rotten cheater?” 

The girls sitting behind you catch your attention. Your brows knit together and you turn your head a fraction to eavesdrop, eyes unfocusing on the words on your screen. There are four of them behind you that you don’t recognize but assume go to the same school as you, based on the attire and the backpacks. 

“Yeah! Sam told me about that. Apparently he was sleeping around with a bunch of freshmen. Maybe his girlfriend found out and went all psycho killer on him?” 

“Ew, how scummy. But what’s with the hello darling message shit? Can you say weird?” 

“I know, right?” 

Their words give you pause. The first victim had been someone known for his infidelity too? Turning back to your screen, you pull up your web browser and type in Hello Darling Murderer to the search. The original murder from the 70s hadn’t given you much thought beyond assuming someone was being a copycat, but now you feel something nagging at you. Something you’re missing. 

All of the top stories are of the recent murders. You amend your search to the 70s and get older articles and links to podcasts covering the initial incident. Clicking on a story from a reputable journal, you start reading in detail about the first murder and his victim, skin prickling as you go.

As an Occult Studies major, a lot of people think you’re into murder mysteries. In truth, you’re not. They have little to do with what you study, and you’ve spent countless times telling people that occult and people obsessed with true crime are two totally different things. You have no idea why they’re lumped together so often, but on more than one occasion you’ve had to explain you’re not interested in serial killers or their stories.

Except now. Chewing the inside of your cheek, you unwind the story of Thomas Ellswater, who had apparently murdered his girlfriend at the time before promptly killing himself. The initial investigation hadn’t dug up much, assuming that it was a case of domestic violence gone as bad as it could. 

But the journalist who had written the story had other details. Accounts from family friends that detailed Elsswater’s girlfriend, Maya, unhappy with their relationship. One even insinuated that she had been cheating on him for a long time, though with who, they were unsure. 

Further down in the article, you stop. Read the paragraph again. Look at the picture of the house. A sickly chill coats your skin as you lean forward, taking in the details of the house. You’ve seen it before, though your memory of it at night surrounded by floodlights and full of drunk college students makes it almost unrecognizable when you see it on the screen. 

Thomas Ellswater lived in the same house that you’d partied in on Halloween night, where Vernon had played that horrible prank in the closet. Thomas or Maya had been the haunting spirit Soonyoung had been attempting to summon.

And now someone was killing in the same exact style.. 

The server bringing you two trays of pizzas and a basket of fries breaks you from your trance. You close the article, a sick feeling in your stomach as you try to piece together the puzzle. Was it just a spurned lover who was paying homage to someone who related? Or was it a serial killer poking fun at the MO?

Vernon crashing into the seat across from you startles you. He gives you a grin, eyeing the pizza in front of him and rubbing his hands together. Rolling your eyes, you grab the red pepper flakes and salt, passing the latter over to him. 

“So I learned something weird today,” you venture, pulling a slice of pizza from the tray. 

“Tell me,” he answers over a mouthful of pizza, once again burning himself. You roll your eyes, shaking your red pepper onto your slice. “What is going on in the world of occult today?”

“Actually, not occult.” He gives you an appraising look, popping some fries into his mouth. “What, no salt today?”

He pauses, looking at the basket of fries. “Nah, I need to cut back on the sodium.”

“Good idea. Anyway, it’s about the murders.” 

“Do tell.”

“The girls behind me said the first victim was known for cheating.” 

“It’s college. Apparently there is a lot of that.” 

“But remember that day we saw Sidney in the library? She was cheating too.” 

“Right.” He rips into his pizza, gaze sharp as he looks at you. “So this town is full of a bunch of lowlife fucking cheaters.”

You flinch at his vehemence, leaning back in your seat. Vernon drops his gaze, tearing into his slice in silence. “Sorry,” he says after swallowing. “I’m hungry.”

“Right. As I was saying, I looked up that Hello Darling Murder.” 

He pauses, gaze flicking to you. “And?”

“And it was ruled as a case of domestic violence gone wrong, but there were some people who think the Maya Caravalo was cheating on Thomas Ellswater, who killed her.” 

“I’m sure cheating is the leading cause of crimes of passion.”

“In the house that we were in on Halloween.” 

Vernon frowns. “Ah. Weird.” 

He doesn’t elaborate. You watch him as he chews on more pizza, shoving fries into his mouth on occasion too. He seems totally at ease - and more normal than he’s been in weeks. You watch, mildly disgusted at the way college men eat. 

“That’s all you have to say?” You ask. “Weird.”

“It is weird.” 

“Kind of an insane coincidence.” 

He becomes still, only his eyes moving as he settles his inky gaze on you. For a second, you can’t help but think he looks a bit like the cat who ate the canary, eyes glittering. “So tell me what theory is in that pretty head of yours, Lovecraft.” 

Ignoring the way your heart leaps at him calling you pretty, you sigh, picking at the wooden table with a thumb nail. “I don’t really have one. I just think someone came across the original murder and thought I could write that at my crime scenes. I don’t study criminology, I can’t figure out motivation.”

“You’re the smartest person in school, Lovecraft. Try.” 

“I guess… I don’t know. The new killer was probably cheated on recently, came across what happened in the 70s, and has been taking out their rage on other adulterers because they feel some sort of kinship with Thomas. Maybe like finishing his work or ridding the world of a common enemy.” 

Vernon hums. “Maybe so. Do you think they deserve it?” You look at him sharply, mouth downturning. “The victims. Do you think they deserve to be killed for their infidelity?” 

“I don’t know that anyone is deserving of murder.” You chew the inside of your cheek, watching Vernon’s face for any sign of what he’s thinking. He’s totally closed off, a blank canvas. “This is why I’m in Occult Studies and not law, Vernon.” 

He gives a wolfish grin. “Touche. Come on, eat your pizza. We have a bar to go get drunk at.” 

-

The bar in question is teeming with people. You’re immediately overwhelmed, squeezing your way between chairs, tables and people as you navigate to your group of friends. Vernon keeps you close, his arm encircling your waist as pulling you to him as you go. 

He either ignores or doesn’t notice the sharp look you give him. Instead, he’s focused on keeping the two of you attached, shouldering his way through the crowd, the press of his fingers on your hip dizzying and steadying at the same time. 

At the far back of the bar, an entire section of people associated with Vernon’s fraternity crowd from wall to wall. Vernon manages to get you onto a stool at the bar top, shouldering one of the pledges off the seat with a narrow-eyed look. You raise your brows at him and he winks, leaning his elbow on the bar top to order you both drinks.

Spinning to face him in the stool, you give him a quick once over. You’d been so engrossed in your murdery mystery findings at the pizzeria that you haven't really looked at him until now. He looks good, dressed simply in dark jeans and a dark, long sleeve shirt that shows how broad he is. Has he always been that broad? 

Vernon catches you staring. “What are you looking at?” 

“Nothing.” 

He grins, accepting drinks from the bartender and sliding one over to you. You burn under the full weight of his attention as he pops his straw into his mouth. “Tell me.” 

“You look nice tonight.”

“You look nice every night.”

“Oh shut up.” 

“What?” he laughs. “I mean it.” 

“Whatever.”

Spinning in the chair again, you place your back to the bar, facing the crowd to watch people. Vernon is content to stand next to you in silence, both of you sipping your drinks as you observe the people around you. Someone jostles him a little closer, his arm shifting to lay across the bartop along your back. 

Heat creeps into your cheeks and you try to remain breathing normally. Vernon leaves his arm there, pressed against you but not exactly wrapped around you. There is a distinct difference, but this is still new. Still confusing. 

People who recognize you both come up and say hi. You keep the conversation polite and short, especially when you see the girl who has lingered at the last two parties slink toward you, her eyes only for Vernon. 

“Hi,” she yells over the crowd, totally ignoring you. “I didn’t expect to see you tonight!”

“Why wouldn’t you? I’m friends with Jihoon.”

The girl opens and closes her mouth, lips pursed at that. You sense the serrated edged to Vernon’s words, casting a glance his direction. He’s not looking at her, eyes instead scanning the crowd. Uninterested. Even you know she didn’t literally mean she wasn’t expecting to see him - it was just a conversation starter. 

Using the opportunity to sip from your straw to hide your laughter, you have to admit you’re a little relieved to see Vernon missing social cues again. It’s more him, a Vernon that you're used to. Maybe a little meaner than usual, but this is closer. 

“Right,” the girl says. Her eyes flicker to you for the first time. “It’s his birthday, right?” 

“According to the giant sign in the corner and all the balloons, yes.” 

Okay, maybe it’s not entirely normal Vernon. Usually he isn’t so callous. In this case, you don’t mind, watching as she tries to puzzle out how to keep the conversation going. Vernon decides for you, turning from her to press his mouth close to your ear. 

“I’ll be right back,” he murmurs, breath hot against you. “I’m gonna greet Jihoon really quickly.” 

All you can manage is a breathy, “Alright.” 

Vernon finishes his drink and pushes off the bar, fingers dragging against you as he goes. He ignores the girl standing and watching, her eyes darting from you to him until he vanishes in the sea of bodies. Without Vernon there, she has nothing to do. She tilts her chin up, sucking up her pride and turns on her heel to walk a direction distinctly not the same way as Vernon.

Alone at the bar, you swivel in your seat to order you both another drink. You assume Vernon is drinking a whiskey coke, hoping that’s right as you flag down the bartender. While you wait, someone slips into the spot next to you. You turn, thinking Vernon’s already back only to find someone you definitely don’t know. 

“Sorry,” he shouts over the loud voices and music. “Did not mean to get in your personal space, this spot was way smaller than I thought it was.” 

“That’s okay! Getting a spot kind of sucks.”

“No kidding.” He grins at you, turning his attention back to trying to get anyone to take his drink order. “How long do you think it’ll take for them to notice me?” 

“About seven years.”

“Yikes. I’m Seokmin, by the way.” You give him your name and he grins. “What brings you to this shit hole ass bar?”

“A friend of a friend's birthday. You?”

“A friend of a friend's birthday indeed.”

A bartender finally comes over to take Seokmin’s order. He leans forward to shout over the crowd, his shoulder knocking into yours. You don’t mind - he’s nice. He looks over at you, a question on his face. “You like tequila?”

“No!”

“Let me rephrase - want a shot of tequila?” 

“She doesn’t.”

Vernon slides behind you, his palm pressed flat to your back. You startle, looking up at him in surprise. He isn’t looking at you, his eyes zeroed in on Seokmin. You slide Vernon’s drink toward him, eager to dispel the sudden tension thrumming through him.

“Whiskey and coke?”

He looks down, eyes rounding out a little as he softens. “Mhmm. Thank you.”

Drink in hand, Seokmin turns to you both and waves. “Y’all have a good night!”

When he’s gone, Vernon leans against the counter again, his tone flat as he says, “He was nice.”

“He was, but what do you sound bothered by it?”

“Maybe I am.” 

“Why?” 

He lifts a shoulder. Instead of answering you, he picks up the lime in his drink and squeezes it, stirring it with his straw before taking a long pull straight from the rim of the glass. 

You nudge him. “I’m going to say this again: you’ve been different, lately.” 

“Different how.” 

“I don’t know. You talk more. You’re a lot more engaging. You’re a little…” 

“A little what?”

“Cockier?” He hums, eyes dropping down to your mouth. “Like that,” you point out, voice a little weaker. “You do that now, and you didn’t used to.”

“I always did. I’m just a little more obvious about it now.”

Tension crackles between the two of you. Your mouth feels dry as you watch him, reading the minute expressions of his face. Finally, when you can’t unpuzzle him, you say, “I don’t know what you’re doing.”

“What do you mean?”

“I can’t tell if you’re coming onto me or if it’s some sort of game to you.” That makes him frown as he sips his drink again. Your fear and frustration clash, wrestling for dominance. “It makes things confusing.”

“Why didn’t you say so? I’m happy to clear things up.” 

You grip your glass, trying to keep your fingers from quaking. This moment feels like it’s all or nothing. Vernon puts it out on the table so easily, leaving the option to you. Either you can ask for clarity, or keep playing this new game of cat and mouse. But you have to decide. 

“I would appreciate it if you did,” you say eventually. 

Vernon nods and finishes the rest of the drink. He sets the glass down before he leans forward, hand going to the underside of your chin to lightly tip your face upward with his knuckle so he can press the world’s most gentle kiss to your mouth. 

You freeze. When he doesn’t pull away, lips soft and warm, you sigh into the kiss, eyes fluttering shut. He feels you relax, mouth curling in a smile against yours. He steps into your space without breaking the kiss, finding the space between your legs as his lips press firmer to yours. 

Vernon smells like his cologne and something distinctly him. It makes you dizzy, and the way he tastes like whiskey and lime makes the room spin. When he pulls away from him, you feel like you’re going to fall from the stool, leaning toward him. 

His hands grip your thighs, squeezing generously as he leans in and drags his mouth to your ear. “Does that clear things up?” 

“Actually, no?” 

His groan is throaty, turning into laughter as he buries his face in your neck. Your hands tentatively settle on his waist, a little hesitant. “I always said you were the smartest person at school, but maybe not.”

“Hey!” 

“Come home with me.” He feels your delay, laughing. “Come home with me because I like you. Is that clearer? Because I want you to come home with me, and I don’t want anyone else here.” 

Your heart goes bolting like a rabbit, running in circles. Vernon pulls away from you to study your face. You watch him for any sign that he’s kidding, that he doesn’t mean it. You find none. In its place, you only see honesty. Hunger. Fiery desire burning at the surface. 

“Really?” Your question is small. Vulnerable. “Do you mean that?”

“I do.” He tugs on your thighs. “I’m not playing games with you. Come home with me - I’ll prove I’m serious about you. You are what I want. I just had to be sure.” 

Lightheaded and heart slamming, you let Vernon pull you from the seat and lead you out of the bar. 

-

Vernon’s apartment on the north side of town is a place you’ve been a million times. You recognize all the cars in the parking lot, and you know exactly what building and floor belongs to him. You even recognize his neighbors come in mat that you’ve always hated. 

He catches you staring at it with distaste now, laughing as he shakes his head and inserts his keys. “You and that mat.”

One hand works the keys into the door while the other is stretched behind him, fingers linked with yours. Your hand is warm and your heart is still racing as he gets the door open, pulling you inside the dark of his home. 

“They could be inviting anything in,” you assert, a little breathless as he pulls you to his chest. He kicks the door shut, the frame rattling as it slams. “You should never have a doormat that just welcomes whatever shows up at your door inside. You could end up with a vampire in your home.”

“A vampire, huh?” Vernon ducks his head towards your neck, lips skimming your throat. Your fingers twist in the hem of his shirt, eyes fluttering closed as his teeth scrape against your pulse point. “Sounds scary.” 

“It is. There’s nothing to disprove that vampires exist.” 

Vernon bites down and you whine, melting into him. His laugh vibrates through his chest as his tongue presses to the bite mark, soothing the pain. His mouth closes over the spot and he sucks gently, sending a shiver through your body. 

“I promise the only thing biting you will be me.”

The full weight of his words hit you between the legs. You feel like putty in his hand as he navigates you to the island counter in his kitchen. He presses your back into it, careful not to jam you too harshly against the marble. 

Heat licks through your stomach as Vernon steals your lips in a kiss. It’s different from the gentle one he gave you at the bar. This one drinks you in, pries you open and lets you spill out into him, all the feelings and bottled thoughts you have free for the taking.

You get lost in him, hands wrapping around his neck to pull him close, fingers sliding through his hair. He moans and you respond, curling your fingers to scrape your nails against his scalp. His hips twitch forward, pinning you between him in the counter as he sucks your bottom lip harshly. 

“Be careful,” he warns, a hand drifting from your chin to your neck. He doesn’t wrap his fingers around your throat, but his hand rests there, heavy and wanting. “I’m trying to be gentle.” 

You steal a kiss, nipping his bottom lip sharply. “Don’t be.”

His resounding groan makes you dizzy. His kisses become rough and heated, using his tongue as much as his teeth. He presses you hard into the countertop now, the marble digging into your back as he nearly folds you in half with the weight of his body. 

It feels like the air has left the room. Vernon is the only thing you need to breathe in, fueled by the way his tongue licks into you, the gentle squeeze of his hand at the base of your throat. His fingers press against your pulse, not enough to cut off any airflow but enough to send a bolt of pleasure and thrill through you. 

“You have no idea,” Vernon pants, pressing sloppy, wet kisses to your jawline. “How long I’ve waited to do this. I could have had you this entire fucking time, but I held myself back.” 

His thumb presses under your jaw, angling your head to the side. With more access to your throat, he peppers you in bites and kisses, tongue soothing each sting. “I have wasted so much time,” he mutters, almost like he’s talking to himself. “Being a fucking coward.”

“Don’t say that,” you gasp as his other hand presses between your legs. The ache in your cunt is already throbbing, and he does nothing but make it worse by adding pressure but doing nothing more. “Please don’t tease me.”

“I’m not.” He pulls away from you. Before you can complain, he gives you a quick kiss, tugging you toward his room. “I shouldn’t have waited until I had a little… encouragement to do this. I’m going to give you everything you want, love.”

A quiver slithers down your spine at the shortened version of your nickname. The new endearment hits home when you see the way he looks at you, the want and desire more unrestrained than anything else you’ve ever seen on his expression. 

Hand in yours, he pulls you into the bedroom, spinning you to sit you down on the edge of his bed. You look up at him through your lashes, admiring the shape of his face and the way you can just barely see his freckles in the soft glow from the nightlight in his bathroom as he slots himself between your knees. 

“I’ll give you whatever you want,” Vernon whispers, voice like velvet. He slides a finger under your chin, tilting your gaze even higher as he watches you, eyes blown. “I’m entirely devoted to you and you only. You know that, right?” 

Vernon’s thumb pulls at your bottom lip. You open your mouth on instinct and he growls low in his throat. He pushes his thumb past your swollen lips, pressing down on your tongue. You taste the lime from earlier and the hint of salt on his skin, closing your mouth as you suck gently. 

“Fuck,” he swears, thumb pressing harder. “You really have been a little slut for me this entire time, huh?” 

Hearing Vernon say it in that deep, whispered voice of his does something to you. There’s a note in his voice you’re unfamiliar with, a dangerous edge that you want to lean into and cut yourself on. So you nod, lashes fluttering as you bat them up at him. 

“Yeah, thought so.” He pulls his thumb from your mouth, dragging it spit-slicked down your chin. “Lay back on the bed for me, love.” 

You do so immediately, shuffling backward so that you can lean back. The sheets smell like him and you tilt your head to the side, nuzzling his comforter a little. You try to ground yourself, feeling a little staticky as he kneels on the bed, mattress dipping. 

Vernon plants a knee between your legs, leaning forward to cage you in with a hand on either side of your head. His kiss is all consuming, any sense of delicacy gone. You let him devour you, your hands pulling at his belt loops to bring him closer.

He’s not close enough, never close enough. 

Having him like this is everything you’ve ever wanted and more. He’s familiar, the scent of him and the warmth of his skin and the little sounds he makes but he’s also entirely new. He is rougher than you imagined, sharper than you thought. He drags his blunt nails over your collarbone as he pulls your shirt away from your neck, giving his mouth access to litter your skin with kisses. 

Your hands slip under his shirt, curious as you press the pads of your fingers into his stomach. You feel the muscles flex and he hums low in his throat, enjoying your exploration as you slide your hands around the perfect taper of his waist to the small of his back. 

Vernon slides his knee higher, pressing it directly to your clothed cunt. You twitch against him, a questioning sound leaving your lips as you breathe in sharply. 

“Go ahead,” he mumbles against your chest, one pulling sharply at your shirt. You hear the seams rip and you don’t even care. “Take what you need, love.” 

The rawness of his words fucks you up. You do as he says, rolling your hips against his thigh for any sort of pressure and friction. It helps relieve the tension a little, but not nearly enough. Your breathing turns ragged as he harshly bites and kisses his way to your bra. 

Yanking hard, he rips the rest of your shirt. You let out a throaty laugh and he looks up at you, eyes like burning coals. “What’s so funny, hmm?”

“I did not expect you to be able to rip my shirt.” 

“Oh?”

The dangerous note in his voice makes your hips stutter and stop. He runs the tip of his tongue around the soft curve of your chest, watching you all the while and fuck. If you’d realized that this was the type of Vernon you’d get, maybe you’d have been braver sooner. Because this Vernon is something else, confident and cocky and ravenous. 

“Want me to rip this too?” He teases, teeth pulling at the cup of your bra. Your chest rises and falls as you try to catch your breath, a little overwhelmed. “Say the word.”

“Maybe salvage some of my clothing, Vernon.”

“Fine. I will not salvage you, though.”

You believe him. Nothing about the way Vernon peels your bra off of you is gentle. Nothing about the way his hand cups your breast, squeezing before he lowers his mouth to give a generous suck to your nipple feels like he has your survival in mind. 

Squeezing your eyes shut, you let Vernon have his way. It feels like he’s peeling you open layer by layer, plucking every string connected to your pleasure that he can find.

His mouth is a weapon, tongue lazily circling your pert nipple until you’re whining and squirming under him. He laughs and drags his tongue to the other side of your chest, licking his way to your peak to tease you further. 

“Shit,” you whisper, one hand leaving his back to tangle in his hair. You don’t know if you’re pulling him away or pushing him closer - maybe both. “Vernon.”

His teeth scrape your nipple and you whine. He shuts you up by closing his mouth around you, sucking sharply. When he pulls away with a loud pop, you let out a shaky breath. 

“You can barely keep it together,” he observes. He placed closed mouth kisses on your stomach as he descends, pulling his knee from between your thighs. “What are you gonna do when I eat you out, huh?”

Flushed and embarrassed, you cover your face as his tongue licks the skin above your jeans. “Cat got your tongue, love?” 

“You - you’re - ugh!”

He chuckles, popping the button of your jeans. “I’m ugh?” 

“You know what I mean.” 

Vernon tugs on your jeans. You try to lift your hips to help him, but your thighs are like jelly already, turning you useless. He coos at you, pressing a kiss to your hip gently. “I got you.” 

Unsure if he means about your inability to get out your fucking pants or he understand what you mean, you let him peel them down the rest of the way. His hands skate up your calves, squeezing and firm as he sinks to his knees on the floor. 

Bracing yourself, you brave a look between your legs where he presses your thighs open gently with his palms. Veronon’s eyes are on the apex of your thighs, entirely focused on where your underwear stick to your folds. He licks his lips, hand brushing up and down your thighs. 

His gaze flickers to you. For a moment, the two of you just stare at one another. You feel overly exposed, naked from the waist up, cool air pebbling your spit-slicked chest. The weight of his gaze presses you down like a physical thing, but it’s comforting. Warm. Reassuring. 

The air is charged between you as he keeps watching you while he drags a hand up and between your legs. He presses a thumb between your folds and you whimper, feeling the way he prods at your aching entrance, only the thin fabric keeping him out.

“Are you always this wet for me?” he asks, thumb slowly dragging up the damp patch to your clit. He digs in sharply, pressing firm enough that your pleasure spikes and your hips pop off the bed. He hisses at you and smacks your thigh, making you lower your ass to the bed again. “Everytime we were together, did you get like this?” 

It takes effort to rasp, “Sometimes.”

Vernon hooks his thumb in the side of your pants, pulling. The fabric peels back achingly slow, cool air hitting your cunt and making you whine. He hums thoughtfully, placing the fabric to the side.

“Like what times?” he questions, blowing cool air against you. You thrash and he laughs, pinning you down by the hips. “I’m curious. Elaborate for me.” 

“Umm.” 

It’s the only word you can get out before he renders you speechless, the flat of his tongue sliding slowly up your pussy. You go boneless, breath stuck in your chest as his tongue lazily circles around your clit and drags back down. He repeats the motion, the slow-soft brush of his tongue driving you insane instantly. 

“You’re not elaborating,” Vernon notes. He presses a kiss that is far too sweet for the moment to your bundle of nerves. “I wanna know all the times you were with me where you felt like this. Go on.” 

“I don’t,” you breath catches when his tongue curls through your folds. He’s soft and slow as he licks you, a lazy smoothless to it that makes you see stars. “Know how to speak when you’re doing that.” 

“Should I stop?” 

“No.”

“Try,” he murmurs, dipping his tongue in your dripping entrance. “I want to know.” 

Fuck. Trying to pull together any coherent thoughts is like wading through thick water. You’re distracted by the way Vernon’s mouth closes on you, sucking gently. He takes his time, fingers pressed into the meat of your thighs as he keeps you open, enjoying you fully. 

“I - shit - I guess sometimes when we go out,” you manage. “I like when you wear your hat backwards.” 

He flicks his tongue back and forth over your clit, making you clench, toes curling. His mouth is wet and warm, closing around your throbbing bundle and sucking gently. Your hips lift but his grip is firm, keeping his mouth to you. 

When he pulls away, the suction is audible, a string of spit and arousal connecting his lips to your pussy. “Taste so fucking good,” he whispers. You think it’s more to himself than you, his tongue carving through you again. “Tell me more.” 

“Halloween night. When you were in skull makeup.”

His tongue starts circling your clit again, the indirect stimulation driving you wild. Your hands tangle in the sheets, sweat slicking your skin as Vernon works to firmer motions. You realize he knows exactly how you like it, gentle to start, working you to firmer motions, a little hungrier. 

It makes him all the more lethal, the way he can just figure you out like that. “Yeah?” he asks, sucking harshly against you. “Wanted me to fuck you like that?” 

“God, yeah.”

“You should have asked. I’ll fuck you however you want.” 

“Didn’t think you liked me.” 

Vernon is too busy to answer, increasing the attention of his mouth. Your hands slide down to his, nails digging into the tops of his hands where he holds you. He lets go of your hips in favor of linking your fingers, pressing your clasped hands to the mattress. 

His name drips from your mouth, eyes falling shut as you sink into the pleasure deep in your stomach. He makes little sounds of pleasure, grunting and groaning as his mouth becomes more fervent. You feel yourself toeing the edge of an orgasm, so so so close.

He can tell too. He finds a harsh rhythm, pulling you closer and closer to your high with each sharp suck of his lips. You twist in his grip, fingers squeezing his so hard you think you might break his hands. You don’t, feeling your breath catch and hold as you come hard, thighs squeezing as you writhe on the bed.

You draw in a ragged breath, desperate for air as he kisses your cunt once. Twice. His slick mouth presses against your thighs, teeth dragging against soft flesh as he mouths his way to your knee. He gives you a moment, letting you pant against the sheets. 

Fabric sticks to your skin as you wiggle against the bed. He stands up, crawling up you again to find your mouth. You lean forward, catching him in an open-mouth kiss that is more tongue than anything, your taste heady in the heat of his mouth. 

“Turn over on your stomach for me,” he groans. His hands squeeze your side as he gives you room to follow his direction. You do, but not without his help, your orgasm making you a little clumsy. “Can you get on your knees for me?”

“Maybe?”

“I’ll help you in a second.”

Instead of moving, you lay slumped on the bed, fully intending to let him do the work. You turn your head to watch him pull his shirt off, revealing firm, tan skin. Vernon is beautiful, the sleek lines of his body reminding you of a painting. He kicks off his jeans before shuffling back on the bed behind you, looking down and snorting.

“Didn’t want to move like I asked?” You shake your head. He pats your ass lightly. “Come on, darling. Help me get these panties off or I will rip them off.” 

Huffing, you do as he says. He does lend you his strength hauling you up by the arm as you lean up on your knees. The room is cold, making you shiver but he presses your back to his chest, mouth dusting kisses over your shoulders. 

Vernon’s fingers dance along your sides until he’s pulling your underwear the rest of the way down your thighs, helping you kick out of them. When he’s got you full naked, he presses your back to him, crowding your space as he angles your head to kiss you slowly. Fully. 

Behind you, his cock presses firmly into your ass. You push back against him, putting pressure against his shaft. He hisses, biting your shoulder harshly. 

“Careful,” he growls, teeth at your neck. “Or I won’t be very nice.” 

“Want you, though.”

“You’ll have me when I say you can.” 

One of his hands slides up to your neck, gripping your throat lightly. He pauses, leaning to catch your gaze. His eyes are round and soft. Honest. Open. “This okay?” He questions gently. He gives a little squeeze to indicate what he means. You nod eagerly, reaching a hand to close around his, making him press harder. “Fuck you’re perfect.” 

You lean your head back against his chest as he holds you by the throat, one of your hands dropping to his elbow, the other reaching behind you to sink your fingers in his hair and tug. The sound he makes is feral, the hand he has placed on your waist dropping between your legs, fingers pressing between them. 

“Oh,” you squeak, feeling his deft tough on your clit. His movements are aided by your earlier release, fingers circling smoothly as he squeezes your throat, thumb pressed perfectly, to make it just a little harder to breathe. “Shit.” 

“Can you tell me a safe word? Not gonna go hard, just wanna know if it becomes too much.” 

“Maenad.” He snorts and you huff. “I just wrote an essay on them, don’t start.”

He laughs, pressing a kiss to your shoulder. “Alright. Just please use it if it’s too much - any of it. If you can’t talk, pat my arm, alright? Just wanna do this right.” 

You nod, so in love with him it takes all of you to stop yourself from blurting it. 

Vernon shuffles behind you, letting you tilt forward a little. The hand between your legs leaves and he instead brings it behind you, prodding at your pussy with his fingers from behind. You let out a loud sound and you can almost feel his grin as he presses a finger into your heat. 

He’s slow at first, the same way he was with his mouth. He explores what you like, testing the way his fingers drag against your walls combined with different grip strengths on your throat. You feel light headed. The room spins as he finds a rhythm that draws the most noises from you, that makes you clench down on his finger the most. 

All of your weight is against the hand around your neck, barely able to hold yourself up as he presses another finger in. This time, his fingers prod right against that soft spot inside of you, making you see stars. He must realize he’s found it, because he starts finger fucking you in earnest. 

The grip on your throat loosens a little, careful not to keep you short of breath for too long as he works your cunt with his hand. His lips find your shoulder, peppering you with light kisses that are delicate and butterfly soft in comparison to the way his fingers fuck into you. 

“Vernon,” you whisper, only able to think of his name. “Vernon vernon vernon.”

“Doing so good, darling,” he whispers against your skin. He kisses his way to your ear, sucking the sensitive spot on your neck. “So fucking good for me.” 

His words hit below the belt. You shudder in his hold, letting him drive you toward another release. You never imagined Vernon to be talkative in bed, but he is, his voice like velvet. Just like that. Perfect for me. There you go, come on. 

Everything about him is perfect, driving you to mania. His grip on your throat tightens suddenly, sensing how close you are to your second peak. Your breath quickens until you can’t breathe, going mute against him as his fingers press hardly into that spot over and over and over.

A high-pitched ring winds in your ears. You hold and hold and hold and when Vernon lets go of your throat, a gust of air flooding your lungs, you shatter around his hand. You collapse backward against him, head knocking into his. You don’t even care, twitching and gasping against him as his hand stills. 

For a few moments, you just lean against him like that, sweaty and lost and in a dream. Slowly, you become aware of his pounding heart against your back and the slick between your thighs. Vernon’s mouth is pressed to your shoulder, waiting patiently as you blink a few times, the room swimming into view.

“Hi,” he murmurs, watching you with shadowy eyes.

“Hi,” you croak, voice rough.

“Good?”

“Very.” 

“Want to stop?”

“No. Unless you want to.”

His gaze darkens. “I don’t.” 

“I want more. I can take more.” 

He lifts his head and presses a sweet kiss to your temple. “You’re perfect for me. Do you know that?” 

Reverent hands help you lay back against the pillows. Vernon touches you like you’re something delicate - not because he thinks you’re fragile, but because you’re something important to him. Valuable. You see it in the way he looks down at you, taking a moment to drink you in. 

There’s something else there too. Something edged with a knife, a little wild. Covetous. There is something in the way Vernon grips your leg briefly, a language he’s trying to communicate to you with touch. 

Mine, it says. Mine and no one else's.

With hooded eyes, you watch him peel his briefs off. Your eyes shoot to where his cock hangs heavy, beads of precum dripping at his tip. You reach a hand up toward him but he shakes his head, careful as he shuffles toward you.

“Later,” he promises. “I like touching you.” 

“I want you to feel good.”

“You make me feel good. Seeing you unravel makes me feel good. I like seeing how much you enjoy me touching you.”

You can tell he means it. His lips are swollen and soft when he kisses you. You open your legs open for him, letting him settle between the softness of your thighs. Vernon runs the head of his cock through your messy fluids, earning a whine for you.

“Sensitive?” he asks against your lips, nose nudging yours. You nod and you feel him smile. “Sorry.”

“Feels good,” you assure him, pressing a kiss to his jaw. “Want more.” 

“Greedy thing.” 

“I’m Your greedy thing.”

Your words have the desired effect. You feel a shiver ripple through him, Vernon’s grip on your leg turning to iron as he opens you up wider. He presses his cock into your entrance slowly, pausing just as the tip pops in. You throb around him, whispering his name - begging him to keep going. 

Vernon’s grin is sharp as he sinks in further, the slide tortuous and wonderful and so much as he finally finds home, hips pressed as far as he can go. He stays like that, tangling your tongue in a messy kiss as he sits there, fully seated in your heat. Your pussy spasms around him, pressed open to the max. 

“Feels so good,” he whispers, dropping his forehead to yours. “I’m going to come embarrassingly fast.”

“So do it.” You wrap a leg around his waist, your hips tilting upward. Both of you moan at the angle change, so close to breaking. “I wanna see it.” 

Instead of answering, he nods. He drags his hips backward slowly before slamming back in. He punches the breath out of your lungs with each slide home, the stroke slow but deep. Your head falls to the side, breaths rasping as he sets a steady, slow pace. 

It feels good, your legs curling around him to keep you close, hands tangle in his hair to keep him tethered to you. His hair is damp with sweat, your fingers curled in the strands, tugging a little. He seems to like it, making a needy sound in his throat that has you grinning. 

“Mine,” Vernon whispers to you, words muffled by your neck. “You are only mine, darling. You will only ever be mine. You were made for me. No one else.”

“No one else,” you agree. 

His hips move faster, a little messier. You egg him on, legs squeeze, cunt spasming around him. He lets out a feral sound, driving himself further to his orgasm. He drags you with him, another swell reaching you. Vernon can tell, chasing it like a predator, pinning you down and slamming his cock into you until you’re melting around him again, vision blotted out. 

Vernon comes to the sound of his name on your lips. His movements become sloppy until he can’t go anymore, holding himself above you, trembling. Carefully, he drops next to you, pulling his cock free. You feel your joint fluids run down your leg, but you’re too tired to care. 

Reaching for him, your hand finds his chest. He wraps his fingers around yours, holding your palm to him, his heart thudding wildly under your touch.

“For you,” he mutters. “Only for you, darling.” 

You fall asleep like that, hand pressed to his chest.

-

Waking up in Vernon’s bed is not new to you. You’ve fallen asleep numerous times at his apartment or stayed the night after going out, but you’ve always had the bed to yourself, Vernon opting to take the couch. 

The bed is empty now, but still warm. You stretch as you roll over in his sheets, groaning as you feel the soreness between your legs and mostly everywhere else. Pressing your hand to your chest and shoulders, you feel all the tender places Vernon mapped his affection with tongue and teeth. It makes you smile fondly as you lay in bed alone for a minute, breathing in the scent of his room.

Slowly, you peel yourself from his bed. With an awkward waddle, you make it to the bathroom, flicking on the light. You shield your eyes at first, going about your morning routine and washing your face to try and feel human again. 

On your way out, something catches your eye. You frown, walking back toward his laundry hamper where you see brass glinting in the light. You reach for it, pulling the bell from the tangle of his clothes. It has an old wooden handle with cracks, a little hand bell used for-

Well. Used the night of halloween. You have no idea why Vernon still has it, the memory of that night like poison in your mouth. You toss it back into the hamper on top of another shirt that catches your eye. It’s one of his dark green t-shirts, but the collar is stained dark brown.

Curious, you pull it out, shaking the shirt out in front of you. It’s mostly unmarked, save for the spatter of something dark brown and dried. You run your finger around the edge of it, puzzled. It looks like dried blood, but you can’t recall any injuries he’s suffered recently. 

You take the shirt with you into his room, tossing it on his bed as you get dressed, stealing sweatpants and a hoodie. Grabbing the shirt again, you trail out toward the kitchen where Vernon is making breakfast, the smell of bacon crackling in the pan.

You grin, leaning against the doorframe for a second to watch him. He looks so at ease, flipping pieces of bacon while he sings to some seventies song you don’t know the name of. 

Pushing off the wall, you head toward him. He catches you in his peripheral, turning his head and smiling at you. “Hello, Darling.” 

The nickname gives you pause. You slow as you come around the corner of the counter, stopping completely as the endearment pricks you sharply on the back of your neck. Vernon goes back to flipping bacon, singing along a song you vaguely know, but don’t know why Vernon does. He’s never liked music from the 1970s, and-

Your ears start to ring. Several things occur to you at once. 

The memory of Vernon screaming and banging his fists against the door, begging for help. You’d been so afraid that you ripped the door open, crashing through the line of salt. 

Vernon, sharp and confident, the new edge to him as he interacts with people, a little harsher. A little darker.

Nah need to cut back on the sodium had said when you asked about the lack of salt on his fries.

The way he’d called you darling the night before, whispering it against your skin. 

70s music that Vernon has never listened to since you’ve known him.  

The bell sitting in the hamper used to call a spirit on Halloween. 

In the house that belonged to the Hello Darling Murderer.

Brown stains - like blood - on his shirt. 

Carefully, you learn toward the middle of the counter, watching Vernon like a prey skirts a predator. With trembling hands, you gently grab the salt from where it sits next to the pepper. You hold your breath, trying not to draw his attention as you unscrew the top of it, placing the metal lid on the shirt to keep it quiet. 

With as silent steps as you can manage, you cross to the other side of the kitchen where you’re out of his line of sight. Tipping the salt over, you pour it across the tile from counter to fridge, eyes darting between the barrier of white and the man standing in the kitchen humming. 

Your heart hammers. 

Your hands shake. 

Salt shaker empty, you set it on the counter and take a few steps back. It’s an unbroken line of salt, and though it doesn’t trap him in the kitchen, at least it’s there. 

Vernon turns around with the pan of bacon. He sees you and his humming stops, cocking his head to the side. He notices the empty salt shaker. Frowns. Looks at you. Looks at the ground where you’ve drawn a line of salt. 

For a second, he just stares at it. His eyes flick back up to you, warm and brown but narrowed. 

“Why is there salt all over my floor?” 

“Cross it.” 

“Huh?”

“Step over the line of salt.” 

Silence stretches between you. He remains standing in the kitchen, pan in hand, music playing in the background.

When Vernon doesn’t move, you can see everything so clearly. 

Vernon hadn’t been joking when he slammed his hands on the door begging for help on Halloween. A sick feeling roils in your stomach as you remember the panicked screams, the way his fists hammered the door. 

Your next words come out as a hiss. “Cross the line of salt, Vernon.”

He looks at the salt and purses his lips before sighing and setting the pan down on the stove. He tosses the rag from his shoulder and shakes his head, striding over to the white line you made against his tile. He stops in front of it, looking at you with his eyebrows raised as if to say really?

“Well, do it.”

Vernon looks down at the salt. Looks back up to you. Down at the salt. 

And then he laughs. 

“Fuck, you really are the smartest person in school.” He sighs heavily, a gaze darker than anything you’ve ever seen on his face as he stares at you. “You know I can’t cross that line of salt, darling.” 

-

TAG LIST:

Tag list has not been used for this fic - there weren't enough character blocks left over for it because Tumblr sucks.

[mochinomnoms]

The Private (not) Thoughts of a Moray Chapter 5: I wanna go on walks with you, I wanna have long talks with you

Gender Neutral Reader x Jade Leech

Chapter 5 preview:

The fall was much shorter than you anticipated, as you felt yourself fall against a soft body. You opened your eyes, but found that the room was dark. Or a tunnel? Hole? Whatever it was, it was a tight fit as you shifted around to get back on your feet. You dug your elbows against the soft floor to get up, which subsequently moved and grunted.  “Ow. That was my rib.” Jade's voice grunted against your ear, his hold around loosening as he also moved to stand.  “Jade? What—oh my god!” You tried to scramble off of Jade, harder said than done in the space you two had found yourselves. Shifting around, you were sure that you’d just made the situation worse, as Jade lit a light with his wand. How in the world you managed to find yourself straddling Jade’s waist in the dark was a mystery. Though, with the flush look on his face, you weren’t sure he minded. Oh…by the Abyss itself… you’re such a pretty sight.

[wc} - 9,838

[notes] - let's gooooo! My editors still need a chance to comb through but I really wanted this out, so I will update with their feedback later so they don't have to stress! Anyway pls gimme your thoughts! I'd love to hear them!!

[tag list] - @simpingforbelphegor @myteacupisempty

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Chapter 5: I wanna go on walks with you, I wanna have long talks with you)

It had been roughly two months since the year started and you’d been housewarden. You’d like to say that it had been smooth sailing, and it mostly was. Mostly.

Epel had taken you to the Mostro Lounge of all places to get you to relax after a fight broke out between a few of the Ramshackle students over how they should decorate it for Halloween. A Diasomnia student that had managed to sneak into your roster a month ago had wanted to turn the dorm into Malleus’s usual haunted house, but Wynfred and the others wanted to do something new. 

Then it turned into another argument over what that new idea would be, which caused a fight to break out between the different students. If it hadn’t been for Wynfred bluntly calling them all whiny and suggesting that they just drew written suggestions from a hat. While most of them bristled at the remark, they’d agreed to follow his lead. After Albert had so kindly offered his hat, the winning idea was a screampark with clowns.

You’d thanked Wynfred for managing to wrangle them in, as you’d been out at a housewarden meeting at the time and did NOT feel like returning to a warring dorm. The redhead has flushed and beamed at your praise, something he’d been doing for a while you’d notice. At first, you thought it was just him being happy at being recognized for his efforts. 

“You know, Wynfred talks a lot ‘bout you, calls you all sorts of sweet names.” Epel had a gleeful smirk as he teased you. “Sounding like someone’s got a little secret admirer!”

Now you know why Wynfred had been so keen to seek your praise.

“Shut up Epel, you know I still have Vil on speed-dial, and I’ll tell him about you cussing out Yev, again.”

Epel wrinkled his nose and stuck his nose out at you, which you returned in kind. 

“Mmmeeh! Don’t worry about it, Yev has snitched on me plenty of times. Vil tells him to get it together and wrangle me in.”

The small man sipped on his smoothie before continuing, “Vil knew how to fight at least, I respect that. Yev’s a big ol’ wuss. He’s like a peacock. Or a chihuahua.”

Both of you giggled, you particularly at the image in Epel’s head of Yev’s head on a brown shaking chihuahua. Your fit of laughter was interrupted by a familiar presence and the thoughts of a familiar twin. 

Hehe, little shrimpy~

“Hi Floyd, what’s up?”

You craned your head to look up at Floyd, who was peering over the booth with a grin, his gold eye glinting at you. 

“Boo!” Floyd pouted, resting his chin on the top of the booth and draping his arms over to essentially trap you between them.

“Was tryin’ to scare Shrimpy, not fair!” 

You giggled at the whiny tone, though Epel looked a bit off put by Floyd, which wasn’t surprising. 

It’s like Shrimpy can tell when I’m nearby, totally not fair!

“Did you need something, Floyd?” Epel was still polite even after Vil left, so you suppose some of the habits instilled in him now came second nature. 

“Nah, just wanted to bother ya. Hey Shrimpy, Tony said you guys are doing scary clowns for Halloween? Never seen that, are clowns really that scary to humans?”

“Oh yeah,” You responded while Epel nodded along. “I don’t know about here, but back home it was a whole deal, we had like a whole scary movie franchise based on a scary clown that stole and ate children.”

Epel added, “Yeah, and we had a whole thing like two years ago where people were sighting killer clowns on the street! Like, just randomly in the middle of the night!”

“You guys had that too? Oh, that’s weird.”

Floyd made a disturbed face at your comments. Humans are weird. He hummed, moving to further shove his body over your booth. You wouldn’t be surprised though if his feet were still on the ground. 

“Killer clowns? Just beat them up, I don’t know, humans get scared of the weirdest things.” 

The twin perked up as he held up a finger to shush you as you opened your mouth to rebuke. 

“Wait a sec, I got something for ya!” Floyd brought his hand up to his mouth and shrilly whistled a small tune. “Hey Aspen!”

Watching with mild curiosity, you watched as the pink-haired man froze at Floyd calling for him. Staring at Floyd with wide eyes, he briefly darted his gaze to you, and back to Floyd.

“Bring the calamari over for lil’ Shrimpy!”

Aspen made a face, scrunching up his nose as he did what he was told as he internally complained. 

I can’t believe you’re making me touch this stuff, I just—I can’t with you! How can you have Jade’s sweet face, and yet be such an ass, Floyd.

Placing the plate before you, Aspen gave you and Epel a polite nod. “Here you are, please enjoy.”

“Yeah, Aspen’s reeeal fond of squid, ain’t ya?” Floyd giggled as Aspen took a deep breath, glowering at him as he turned his cheek and trotted off. 

Stupid, it’s no wonder you can’t court your mate, you brute.

“I believe my shift has ended. I’ll be setting off, I’ll see you at Ramshackle, Housewarden.”

You watched from the corner of your eye as Floyd grinned wryly at Aspen’s retreating form, looking back at you and Epel to pout and mockingly sniffle. 

“He’s always been so mean to poor ol’ Floydie!” He giggled again, tilting his head as you rolled your eyes. “He ignores me all the time, even when I’m trying to have fun with him! It was just a joke!”

You gave a light-hearted scoff, as did Epel who froze at Floyd squinting a golden eye at him. 

“Right, a joke. Like when you ‘accidentally’ served Azul your takoyaki. Didn’t he smack you hard enough to bruise you?”

Floyd blew a raspberry, cocking his hip as he leaned further against your booth. At the angle you had to crane your head to look at him, he almost looked like his brother. 

“Yeah, he was so mean for that! It’s fine, though, he kept serving me unagi for like a week after that to get back at me.”

His eyes dulling a bit, you could tell Floyd was getting bored now that his ‘fun’ had left. Though, he seemed to perk up as you popped a calamari ring into your mouth, studying your reaction as you chewed. It got a bit awkward as you made eye contact with Epel, who shrugged. 

I wonder if he’s waiting for the Prefect to say something about the food. Maybe he made it and wants praise?

You swallowed and cheerily told Floyd, “Hey, this is really good! Tastes great, did you cook it, Floyd?”

Floyd held his chin in his hands, grinning again as he watched you take another ring. 

Waiting until you were mid-chew, he purred out in a teasing tone, “Oh, no I didn’t make that. Jade made it. For you.”

So sappy, an’ such a basic courting gift too!

You choked on the calamari, coughing and frantically hitting your chest. Epel yelped as he nearly jumped over the table to shove your glass of water in your face, which you accepted. 

“Oh? You good Shrimpy?” Floyd, unbothered as ever, grinned as he watched you chug your water. “Something got you all flustered?”

“Floyd! Don’t make jokes, they’re chokin’!” Epel scolded Floyd as you finally took a heaving breath, waving your hands to cool off your burning cheeks.

“It’s fine, just went down the wrong throat. Um,” You shakily smiled at Floyd as you replied, “Thanks for letting me know, I’ll be sure to thank him later.”

As if, I don’t need him getting the wrong idea. 

“Oh good, Jade wanted to talk to ya ‘bout something anyway. Can’t remember about what.” Floyd gave you a lazy smirk. “He was gonna visit ya at your dorm, but what if I pop you in his room as a surprise? It’ll be reeeal funny!”

“Nope!” You popped your lips, blanching at the thought of Jade finding you alone in his bedroom.

“Kayyy!” Floyd shrugged, sliding his upper body against the top of the booth as he sauntered away. “I’m sure Jade will be back soon anyway. I’ll have someone come top off your waters while you wait.”

An exhausted sigh left your mouth as you rested your head against the cool table while Epel did the same, in solidarity you think. 

“Ya good? I’ve heard that Jade has been hovering around you lately. You don’t like, owe him anything, do you?”

You slid your head up to meet Epel’s gaze, who was currently giving you a curious look. 

Ace mentioned he’s been around you a lot lately. 

“Ah, no he’s just been, ummm—” you hummed as you considered how to word your circumstances without telling him about your telepathy.

Maybe I should tell him anyway…

“If it helps, I don’t think it’s anything bad!” Epel tried to reassure you with a small smile. “You two walk together after your potions class, right?”

You blinked in surprise, raising a brow. “Yeah? How’d you know?”

“Oh, he’s in the remedial second-year flight class with some other mermen. And I see you two walking when I’m coming from astronomy, it’s on the way.”

Every day too, without fail. 

Epel waited for you to take a sip of water before giving you a wry grin. “It’s cute, you guys look like a couple.”

Choking on your water, you coughed as Epel giggled at your flustered reaction. Unfazed by your glare, Epel happily continued. 

“Ha! I thought Ace was joking, but you really do get all embarrassed talking about Jade. What? You got a crush on him?”

“NO!” You shouted, nearly flying out of your seat. The dining room got quiet as you did, several eyes staring at you. From the corner of your eye, you could see Floyd smirking at you. Like he knew what you were talking about. 

Oh, geez. Epel was leaning back against his seat, eyeing you up and down. Dramatic much?

“I mean, uh, no.” You hastily mumbled as you settled back in your booth, wishing you could just sink into the cushions. 

“Sure, yeah.” Epel scoffed, and relaxed, smirking at you again. “You know, he’s real happy during flight class, even though he can barely make it off the ground. Might have something to do with a certain someone, you think?”

You laughed and dryly responded, “I wouldn’t know.” Liar. “Besides, it’s not like I ask for him to hover over me all the time. It gets annoying sometimes”

Epel now looked at you puzzled. “Ace didn’t mention anythin’ like that. He’s not like…stalking you or anything, right?”

I’ll beat him up if he is. He might got a foot over me, but I can take him!

The sentiment was sweet, but the thought of Epel confronting Jade made you uneasy. With how intense his feelings were for you, you couldn’t imagine Jade willingly backing down just from a few harsh words or threats from Epel of all people. 

“It’s nothing to worry about. Promise!” You straightened and frantically waved your hands at the doubtful look he gave you. “Jade’s been nothing but helpful! He’s probably just being nice.”

“Jade, being nice? Sure, yeah right.” He snorted, amused again. “He’s as nice as a bull seein’ red. He’s like his brother, nothing but a big and mean bully.”

You clicked your tongue, now annoyed. “That’s not fair, Jade can be nice! Like I said, he’s been nothing but helpful to me since the year started.” You weren’t sure why you were so defensive. Jade had been as much of a nuisance as he was helpful since the year started. 

Though, if I couldn’t read his mind, he probably wouldn’t actually be such a nuisance to me. I guess he hasn’t actually done anything to make him annoying. 

“Hmm, awfully defensive, Prefect.” Leaning in, like he was sharing a secret, Epel slyly whispered, “You sure he’s actually annoying, or are you just pretending? Cause you’ve been getting redder since we’ve started talking ‘bout him.”

You smacked your hands against your heated cheeks, scowling at the cackling Epel. 

“I’ve not! Liar!”

“Ha! Look at you!” Epel teased, stealing a piece of calamari as he continued making fun of you. “Why you all red, then?”

“Oh, shut up!” You pouted, sticking your tongue out at your friend before sighing. “Look, there’s more to it, I’ll tell you about it later, just stop making fun of me!” 

Epel nodded in understanding, popping one of the calamari rings in his mouth.

“I’ll hold ya to it! Oh, I almost forgot to tell you about one of the guys in my class almost eating a poisonous plant in botany!”

You spent the next half hour listening to Epel recount the stories about the guys in his botany class. You liked being around Epel, even though he wasn’t aware of your telepathy. The way he spoke out loud and in his head were different, since he still spoke to himself internally with his normal accent. 

“And then, he cut the bloom off, which made the entire glasshouse fill up with this pink gas!”

It smelt so awful, I'd rather have my face shoved in a cow's hind end!

“It smelled reeaaally bad!” Epel barked a laugh as you two got up from your seats, your waiter had finally given you your receipts. “It was a whole deal, Professor Kallpa was sooo mad!”

“Oh, really?” You laughed alongside Epel as you two walked out of the dining room. “I’ve never seen him mad, it must’ve been really bad!”

As you two turned the corner of the hall leading to the door of the Mostro Lounge, Jade was just exiting his bubble, too preoccupied by the small notebook in his hand to take notice of you. 

“Oh shit—Epel hide me!” You spun back around and plastered your back against the wall, freezing like a deer in headlights. Epel yelped as you snatched the back of his collar. He followed suit, crouching against the wall under your arms as he looked up at you with an amused look. 

“Seriously, what—” you smacked a hand over his mouth, listening for movement or thoughts.

Hmm? Interesting, is there a little guppy hiding from me? I hope they’re aware I can smell them.

You tried to make out Jade’s footsteps as you could hear his thoughts come closer and closer. You looked at Epel mouthed out, ‘He’s coming.’ Epel blinked rapidly in confusion, shrugging as he waved his hands in front of him. 

‘What do you want me to do?’ He mouthed back, standing and holding his hands up still in confusion. 

Though am I mistaken, that familiar scent of lavender…is that you, my love?

You stopped breathing, shoulders hunched up as your brain rapidly ran through various escape plans before finally settling on one. 

“Sorry, Epel,” you whispered, giving him a nervous smile. “I’ll make it up to you later.”

Just as Jade was turning the corner, you shoved Epel into the tall man, the force causing the two to barrel into the ground with a loud ‘thump’ and groans. 

While they, and most importantly Jade, were down, you swiftly and sneakily sped past them. 

Ow! You ASS!

You turned as you opened the lounge entrance, pushing your back against the forming bubble as Epel looked up at you from the ground, glaring at you as if he could form a hole into your skull. 

Ugh, is that Epel? Gah, I hit my head against the wall…

Jade looked up from his place on the ground, following Epel’s gaze as the bubble lifted you from view. He looked surprised, if a bit sad to see you go, opening his mouth to call out to you.

“Pearl?”

You sighed, feeling a bit guilty as you let the bubble take you to the mirror. It was just a few minutes to get to it, but that was enough to let you stew in your own thoughts for once. 

Aw, he looked kinda sad. Maybe I should’ve just sucked it up and let him say hello. 

You leaned against the cool wall of the bubble, watching as a small school of fish swam by. If you’re being honest with yourself, if it wasn’t for the fact you knew about how Jade felt for you, you probably wouldn’t have such a hard time interacting with him. You’d be blissfully unaware, making your way through life without a concern in the world.

Probably. Maybe. What if he tried confessing then? Would I still be avoiding him if I didn’t know what he thought of me? Ugh, but they’re such weird thoughts! Is it too much to ask for him to be normal?

From the distance you could see another bubble form from the Mostro Lounge, no doubt Epel following. As you turned to press through the mirror into the Hall of Mirrors. You sighed again.

What am I talking about, no one at this school is normal. 

Stepping aside to wait for Epel, you took your phone out to check your texts. You blanched at the sight of several missed Magicam messages, mostly from Wynfred and Silas.

winniethewitch: Hi Prefect! Just a suggestion, can we invest in pest control? I think it would be really beneficial for us all :) sysalson: ignore my brother, there are no issues with bugs. The bugs are fine, the bugs are my friends :D winniethewitch: Hi again, Prefect! Please ignore Silas. The bugs are very much NOT fine. The bugs are not our friends. The bugs must go. winniethewitch: Hi Prefect, this is Wynfred, your unofficial Vice Housewarden. Please ignore my previous messages. Silas is right, the bugs are our friends and I made a haS42q vhq0[p;’M  winniethewitch: That was not me. Please as the Headmage for pest conlk10vg n  319jioqajn13pn

You read through a few more messages, each harder to decipher than the last, as Wynfred and Silas evidently fought over the phone. You noticed that the last messages were actually readable.

winniethewitch: Prefect! I have taken care of the problem, there is no need for pest control now. Evidently, please ignore the smell when returning. It turns out that Aspen can make quite the strong pest repellent, it just happens to smell very strongly of garlic.

“Oh god, are you kidding me?” You chuckled to yourself, the sound of the Octavinelle mirror shimmering catching your attention. Turning to greet Epel, you noticed a smug look on his face instead of the annoyed one you expected.

“Heyyy, you know I didn’t mean to shove you so hard, right?”

“Mm-hm.” Epel hummed, walking past you and out the building. You followed, if a bit confused. 

“I just panicked, and wanted to get out of there.”

Epel replied, “Away from Jade, right?”

“Right! You heard me earlier, it’s been a little weird being around him a bunch, so I just wanted to—”

“Yeah, don’t worry, I made sure to tell him that you weren’t trying to be rude or anything.” 

You stopped rambling, now silent as Epel continued to offhandedly comment. 

“Yeah! He seemed real worried that you were in such a rush to get away from him. So I let him know that you were just being shy, that you’d been getting all red and flustered when talking about him earlier—”

“WHAT!” You screeched, running ahead of him to stop Epel in his tracks, by now Ramshackle was in view and there were a few students on the porch staring after you yelled. 

“Yeah, he didn’t say anythin’, but I could tell he was reeeal happy to hear that. I mean, he nearly, tripped over himself trying to follow you out, but Azul came over for him.”

Scoffing, you tapped your food as you angrily placed your hands on your hips. Epel looked at you, still smug. 

That’s what you get for leaving me behind. Trying to sacrifice me, hmph!

“By the way, he asked me to remind you that your potionology group is still meeting at 3 later today. He said Yev was throwing a fit over you not texting him back, and he wanted to get work done.”

“Oh shit, I forgot!” You groaned, rubbing the palms of your hands against your eyes. “Ugh, I gotta get dressed in my lab uniform.”

Epel laughed, nudging you with his shoulder to push you towards Ramshackle. He cooed in mock sympathy, “Oh, too bad, so sad, better hurry up then.”

You ran, Epel laughing as you made a panicked screech, to Ramshackle. You zoomed past the group of freshmen on the porches they greeted you, stumbling into the foyer. You notice Grim in the living room, standing on the table as he told some sort of story about fighting an overblot monster in the mines. No doubt overinflating his part in the story. 

“And then it raised its pickaxe to my hench-human while the other two ran for their hides! But, as the brave and mighty Grim, I used my most powerful spell—”

“GRIM!” You slid on the hardwood floors, huffing and pointing at the gray familiar. “Was laundry done yet!? I need my lab pants!”

“Nyah! Uh.” Grim jumped as his ears pinned down, and he sheepishly mumbled, “Nooo, I forgot. But I was telling these guys about the mines and—”

“GAAAAH!”  

You ran up the steps and flew into your room, slamming the door behind you as you shuffled through your clean clothes to find your oversized lab coat, goggles, and pants. You managed to find the first two, but the third was indeed still in your dirty clothes hamper. 

Damn it! Ugh, where are my tights?

Crewel had often chastised you when you wore your skirts to lab classes, as it didn’t follow lab safety protocols. Vil had helped you make outfits with opaque black tights to help cover your skin for lab, though you’d stopped after the last class when you spilled a potion over your legs, causing your favorite tights to bleach an ugly white, splotchy pattern. 

You learned the hard way why none of your other classmates wore their skirts to lab either. Now you had a dedicated pair of pants for all labs, also bleached but comfortable. Unfortunately, they were still buried under a pile of dirty clothes. 

Groaning, you slipped off your shoes and socks as you pulled out a pair of black tights, slipping them on, along with your lab coat and goggles around your neck. You had to fold your sleeves up to prevent them from engulfing your hands, easier said than done as you tried to smoothly slip on your shoes again. 

Stumbling back out of your bedroom, and tripping a bit over the stairs, you managed to make it to the main hallway before being interrupted mid-walk. 

“Prefect!” Perfect, they’ve still here! You looked up at Aspen, who looked strangely happy to see you. Behind him was Wynfred, who was blushing and staring down at his feet. 

“Prefect,” Aspen chirped, gesturing to Wynfred with a flourishing wave. “Wynfred has something very important to tell you—”

“Sorry! Can’t talk! Ask Grim if you have any dorm related questions!”

“But, wait!” You ignored Aspen’s calls and him cursing you out in his head, while Wynfred also called out. 

“Prefect, I—”

“Can’t talk! Bye, bye, bye, bye!”

You ignored their shouts as you leaped over the Ramshackle steps and ran as fast as you could to the castle. Maybe Vargas had a point trying to recruit you to the track team, as you managed to make it to the hallway that Yev’s lab was in just five minutes shy of three o’clock. You nearly rammed into Riddle’s back as you slid across the floor. 

“Oh my!” Riddle stumbled forward, his goggles falling lopsided over his head, turning as he heard the trample of your steps. He stumbled backwards as you keened over, hands on your knees as you heaved for air.

“Prefect! Mind where you’re going!  You nearly trampled me over!”

“Sorry! I just didn’t want to be late.” You took a final deep breath as you smiled up to Riddle. “Just 5 minutes to spare!”

Riddle chuckled as he lent a helping hand to get you back up, pulling you along to the classroom Yev had instructed your group to meet at.

“Very good Prefect, let’s not hurt ourselves, though. I already checked in, it’s just Jade. No sign of Yev quite yet.”

“Wasn’t he the one who insisted that we meet at this specific time? I’d thought he’d been here already.”

Riddle chuckled as you two made your way into the classroom. As Riddle had said, Jade was sitting at the end of the classroom in a desk closest to the wall. He’d been studying the stones that made up the wall rather intently before notice you and Riddle enter. 

“Why hello Riddle. And Prefect, we’d bumped into each other earlier and didn’t even manage to say hello.”

Gave Jade a polite wave and a sheepish smile as Riddle greeted him. 

“Still no sign of Yev, Jade?”

“Oh, no. How strange, especially since he insisted on us meeting at this time.”

Jade’s eyes briefly locked on your form, eyes drawing up and down. 

There you are! My darling! My pearl, you’re wearing a skirt again! I can’t believe I didn’t notice earlier! And you’re acting all shy! Your little friend was right! Cute, cute, cute!!

“Hey, Riddle, what if I jumped off a bridge? For fun?”

Riddle sharply inhaled, slowly turning his head to give you an unamused glare. 

“What if I tied a leash to your neck? For fun?”  He scoffed, pulling at your cheek like a mother to her child. “Honestly, you worry me at times, I may have to anyway.”

Hmm, not a bad idea Riddle…

Jade’s mind conjured up an image of you on your knees, in the maid outfit again, a leash tied to your neck leading up to his hand as he cooed over you. 

You made a low-pitch whine as the two of you made your way to where Jade was waiting at the end of the classroom.

“No, I’m fine actually, no leashes here. Hate them.” You made an ‘X’ with your hands as you turned and walked backwards, puffing your cheeks. “Not something I want on my person, at all!” 

Really? You heard Jade shift in his seat, standing to approach you and Riddle. Hmm.

You smiled to yourself for effectively shutting down the latest dirty thought. 

At least, until Jade conjured up another image of you straddling him in bed, using his tie as a leash to pull his face to yours. 

“Jade, you’ve been naughty~” You giggled, pulling on his tie, further tightening it as his own hand clasped yours. “Maybe I ought to collar you up? Tie a leash and drag you around like a pet?” Jade gasped, pupils blown wide, as he let out an uncharacteristically high-pitched whine. A sound reserved just for you.  “Anything you want, just for you, my love.” Jade groaned as you licked a stripe up his throat to meet his lips in a messy, wet kiss.  His words muffled as he spoke against your moving lips, “I’ll be your pet. I’ll let you use me. Please—” Grasping the ends of your shirt, tugging at them like a lifeline, Jade started muttering nonsense as he ground his hips against yours.  “Please, please, please, I’ll be so good to you! I’ll fuck you so good, I’ll make you feel good if you’ll just let me. Let me love you, please, please, please—”

A sharp pain flew up your neck to your head as you collided with the stone wall, tripping over a table leg while walking backwards. Your face was burning, as was the heat in your gut. Riddle and Jade both made noises of concern as you clenched the back of your head. You were glad that they assumed your red face was due to your embarrassment, as Jade’s last rambles were still echoing in your head. 

“Oh my, Prefect! Are you alright?” Riddle's voice was full of concern, but also slight amusement as he grabbed your left arm, Jade the right, to pull you up. 

“Yes, that looked like it hurt quite a bit.” Jade murmured, moving his hands to gently move your head. “Allow me to check your head.”

“No, I’m—ow!” His hand brushed on a tender spot on your crown, making you wince. ”Ooooh, that hurt!”

Ah, I’m so sorry, my pearl, but you make the cutest sounds sometimes! You heard Jade tut as he leaned down to closely inspect your head. I just wonder what kinds I could pull from you.

You cringed, leaning away from his hand and shooing both boys away. “I’m fine, guys, it’s just a bump.” 

“Are you sure you’re okay? It does none of us any good if you’re hurt and can’t focus, you can go to the nurse.” Riddle replied, pushing you towards the door.

“Yes.” Jade chirped in agreement, ignoring Riddle’s side eye at his abnormally happy tone. “Allow me to take you—”

“Oh no! I don’t think so!” Yev came barreling through the classroom door, looking rather disheveled. Compared to his rather clean, prim appearance, he looked as if he’d been run through the wringer. 

Oh my, I would have never seen Vil in such a state. You heard Riddle stifle a chuckle as he eyed Yev fixing his messy hair. Said man was huffing, no doubt from running. 

“Ugh my hair! Look,” Yev said, eyeing you in particular, “It took forever for us to find a spare day to meet up. I won't go through the effort of rescheduling it when one of you just happened to bump your head.”

Besides, I have a potion in my lab you can take anyways. 

“I really must insist that the Prefect get checked up.” Jade argued, giving Yev a polite smile. Though, his eyes were quite firm. 

“And I must insist that we get started.” Yev scoffed as he pushed past the three of you pressing against the stones in the wall as he continued talking. “I have pain medicine in my lab, just…ugh. Where’s that damn button!”

Your group shared looks at Yev’s muttering, moving closer to huddle around Yev as he pressed hidden buttons along the stone wall. He pressed one, the lights flickered off and back on as he pressed it again. 

Riddle yelped as the bookshelf next to him spun into the wall, turning around to reveal its other side blended into the wall. He jumped back as it spun again, nearly hitting him. 

“Yev! Be careful!.” Riddle yelled, cheeks turning red. “I thought this was your secret lab, how do you not know how to get in it?”

Yev yelled back, “I know! I’m just having trouble—you know, I didn’t have to let us use my lab for our project!”

As the two started arguing, now the blackboard and teacher’s desk shaking as Yev pressed more stone buttons, Jade shuffled closer to you. 

“You know…” Jade leaned down to softly speak to you. “I can still take you to the infirmary, if you’d prefer?”

You looked up at Jade, surprised at the tender look in his eyes.

I really shouldn’t be, though. 

“I, uh—” You turned away shyly, reaching up to touch the still throbbing spot on your head. “Maybe that wouldn’t be such a bad idea—”

“Wait! Don’t press that one, it’s the wrong—”

Your stomach dropped as the floor beneath your feet disappeared. Specifically the square panel you and Jade had been incidentally standing on, the trap door opening as you two started falling down the dark pit. A scream left your mouth, arms reaching around your midsection as you clutched onto them and shut your eyes. 

The fall was much shorter than you anticipated, as you felt yourself fall against a soft body. You opened your eyes, but found that the room was dark. Or a tunnel? Hole? Whatever it was, it was a tight fit as you shifted around to get back on your feet. You dug your elbows against the soft floor to get up, which subsequently moved and grunted. 

“Ow. That was my rib.” Jade's voice grunted against your ear, his hold around loosening as he also moved to stand. 

“Jade? What—oh my god!” You tried to scramble off of Jade, harder said than done in the space you two had found yourselves. Shifting around, you were sure that you’d just made the situation worse, as Jade lit a light with his wand. How in the world you managed to find yourself straddling Jade’s waist in the dark was a mystery. Though, with the flush look on his face, you weren’t sure he minded.

Oh…by the Abyss itself… you’re such a pretty sight.

“You say that often, ‘my god’, what does that mean if you don’t mind me asking.” Jade pushed himself up by his free elbow, the other arm busy holding up your only source of light. “It’s an expression, yes?”

“Y-yeah, it’s like when you guys say things li-like ‘by the Seven’ or—I’m sorry. Let me try to get off you!”

You started rambling, looking around for a way to put some distance between you and Jade. However, you only saw black walls around you. Looking up, whatever panel had been above you was closed off, black stone closing you in. 

“Well, there’s not much space for you to move.” Unless you want to keep moving those hips against me… “Perhaps relax, there’s hardly any space between the two of us.”

“Right! Of course, but I think I can…” Carefully, you managed to stand in the small space, trying to avoid moving against him. Harder said than done, but you managed, reaching down to lend a hand to him. “Here.”

Jade smiled, something soft and sweet, as he took your hand and awkwardly shuffled against the wall as he slid up. 

Though, this is just as nice as well. 

“I think I can hear them shuffling on top of us. Do you think one of them noticed us falling?”

“Ha, with the way you screamed? Without a doubt.” Jade managed to stand straight, a good chunk of space between the tops of your heads and the trap door panel. 

He attempted to reach up to knock the top of the panel. Despite his height his fingerprints barely brushed it. Luckily, you could hear Riddle and Yev’s panicked footsteps stumble around. 

Riddle’s voice came through the floor, muffled and frantic.

“Prefect? Jade? Prefect!? Yev what in the world was that!? Where did it send them? Prefect! (Name)!!”

“We’re here!” You called out, smacking the wall in an attempt to make more noise. “We’re fine!”

“Oh good!” You heard Yev laugh, then yelp as you heard a smack. “What?! Usually it would send them down to the lake! They got stuck in the trap hole since you pressed the button twice, usually it would’ve sent them to a nice midafternoon bath!”

You heard another smack and yelp, then some scratching against the wood.

“Prefect, we’re going to get you and Jade out! Let me just figure out how to get the panel open.” 

Listening to some more footsteps, Jade leaned down to murmur, “There goes our plans then. You don’t suppose they’ll get us out of here before 3, do you?”

You snorted, stifling a laugh, failing to do so at the sound of more clamoring and arguing above you. 

“Give Riddle some faith at least. He’s always been smart. And resourceful! You should’ve seen him over the summer, he got through every training simulation thrown at us.”

“Ah, I never did learn about what happened at that camp the headmage had you all attend.” Jade leaned down, studying your features. 

Oh, such a wonderful smile! I wished you’d do that more often around me.

“Azul’s been tight-lipped about it as well, perhaps you’d be willing to share with me?”

You blinked up at him, shuffling a bit as he leaned down to whisper against your ear. 

“You can trust me, you know.” His smooth voice drew a shiver down your spine. You think that he noticed your blushing face, based on the way he took a sharp breath. 

Please, please, please! Don’t be nervous, there’s no need to be shy with me! I know you are, but you don’t need to my love!

You really wanted to wring Epel’s neck for that comment, though it was hard to focus. Especially with the lack of space between you two. 

“I’m happy to lead an ear. There’s no need to be shy.”

You shuffled against the wall to place some distance between you two, squinting at his smile. You half expected him to cage you in with his long arms, though he seemed more amused at seeing you try and escape him. 

Ah! Look at you being shy! So cute, cute, cute! 

You wanted to roll your eyes at him, more annoyed now than anything, even with your blush. 

“I’m fine, thank you. I can handle myself just fine.”

Jade chuckled, “Ah, I forget how spirited you can be.”

Before you could retort back, a bit of light from the opening panel shone through. Both you and Jade looked up to see Riddle’s gray eyes peering through the small gap he made. 

“Prefect!” shouted in relief, looking at the twin. “And Jade. You’re there too.”

“Oh, Riddle. Your concern is most kind.” 

Ignoring Jade’s thinly veiled sarcasm, you smiled and reached up with both hands to wave at Riddle. 

“Hey! Let’s go! Can you open it more to get us out?”

“Yes, but I can’t reach you. Yev has to stand by the button that opens this panel up. He’s using a spell to hold the button so that it won’t open the panels beneath you while I pry this one open.”

Riddle briefly disappeared, the panel moving slightly more as he pushed it into its slot. The floor beneath your feet also shifted, vibrating as if it too wanted to slide away and disappear. 

“Ah! Careful, the panel here is moving!” 

You stumbled, Jade catching you by your waist to help steady you as he also called out. 

“Riddle! I’d rather that we don’t plunge into the lake! I heard it’s quite slimy!”

“Ew what? Riddle!” You panicked, shouting for Riddle and jumping on your toes. “Get us out!”

Riddle huffed, crawling back to poke his head through the now large hole. 

“I’m trying! Jade, can you lift the Prefect on your shoulders.” Riddle ignored your protest and continued to speak. “Just lift them, so I can pull them up, then the two of us can try to reach for you.” 

You blinked in confusion, processing Riddle words before paling. 

“Wait, what—AH!” You felt Jade’s hands grab your knees, looking down to see the back of Jade’s head settle between your thighs as he lifted you on his shoulders. A small shriek slipped your slips as you grasped at Jade’s hair, pulling hard enough to make him wince, so that you could steady yourself. 

Oh, fuck. Their hands, their thighs, it’s better than anything I could imagine…

You panicked at another one of Jade’s daydreams. This one of Jade between your legs, thighs squeezing the sides of his head and hands pulling the teal strands in his head as you arched your back and cried out his name. You tightened your thighs instinctually, regretting it as you felt Jade’s breath shudder. You felt it, even with the tights blocking your bare skin. 

“RIDDLE! GET ME OUT!! NOW!” You launched your hands and body up, making Jade stumble forward as you tried reaching for the ledge that was still out of your grasp.

“I’m going! Do not yell at me like you’re me!” Riddle’s hands were now within your reach, the tips of your fingers brushing against each other. “Jade, push them up higher or something. I can’t reach!”

You felt Jade move his hands to cradle beneath your thighs, lifting you as you nearly made it to freedom’s grasp. 

“Riddle, have you managed to get—Aye, hijo de puta!” 

You felt yourself dropping again, Riddle’s hands now quickly fading away while Jade’s grasp tightened against your legs. 

You heard your scream echo against the stone walls as you two fell through the tunnel. At some point, Jade had let go of you to grab at your waist again, tucking you against his chest as he curled around you and braced. 

It certainly helped, as he took the brunt of the fall against the cold waters of the lake underneath the school castle. 

Chill seeped through your bones, hair and lab coat billowing around you as you finally opened your eyes to see nothing but dark, green murky water. Below you was more darkness, the tops of a seaweed forest underneath your feet. You think you could make out a few fish, even one of those giant catfish Vargas made his camp attendees fish for. 

However, you missed the large, silver large-toothed fish darting between the seaweed, only noticing it as it was charging at you. Bubbles flew out of your mouth as you screamed, shutting your mouth again, and attempting to swim quickly to the surface. Luckily for you, you made it rather quick as a familiar webbed, green hand snatched your hand as Jade bolted to the surface. 

Breaking the water, you gasped for a deep breath, brushing your bangs from your face and blinking away water from your eyelashes. You frantically whipped your head around, searching for Jade, as you called out his name in a panic. 

“Jade? Jade! Where are you? Jade!” You yelped as he breached the water, brushing his hair back. He had a scrape on his arm that he was studying with mild irritation.

“What an annoying creature—oh!” Jade grunted in surprise as you threw your hands over him, clutching at his shoulders. 

“Jade! Are you hurt? What was that? Is it gonna get us?! Oh my god, JADE IT’S GONNA GET US, WE GOTTA GO!” You babbled on and on, hyper focused on looking at the water below you for signs of the aggressive fish. Which proved meaningless, as you couldn’t see anything besides the dark green water. 

You paused at Jade’s sudden laughter, growing louder as his chest shook, and his eyes squinted in mirth. Looking at him with furrowed brows, you tilted your head as he reached over to cup your cheeks. He squeezed them together, making you pucker your lips as his laughter died down. 

He’s…laughing! Like, fully laughing! I’ve…ever seen him laugh! Woah!

“My dear, relax!” Jade managed to stifle his laughter, now softly chuckling. Something more characteristic of him. 

He has a nice laugh, actually. Not like Floyd’s, it’s just more… Jade. I guess…it suits him!

“I can assure you, I am just about the scariest thing in this lake at this moment. Nothing is going to come for us as long as I remain in my merform. But your concern for me is delightful.” 

So sweet. 

Jade looked at you fondly, eyes darting down to your lips, making your breath catch in your chest. 

Is he gonna…?

“We should head to the shore and start heading back up. I imagine Riddle is quite worried about you.” 

Jade suddenly let go of your cheeks, instead moving to swim on his stomach, gesturing for you to grab his back. 

“Here, allow me to help you to shore.”

You nodded, wrapping your arms around his shoulders as you carefully maneuvered around his dorsal fin. You were reminded of the time you got trapped in the Scarabia desert and had to swim through the river Kalim made. Though this time you had a different twin to be your ride. 

“Heh, kinda familiar, huh? Though you had Grim and Azul with you back then, right?” 

Jade started wading through the water, one of his own hands reaching up to hold yours on his chest. 

“Yes, you were with Floyd last time. That was quite the time, wasn’t it? You found yourself in trouble more often than the average person.”

“It’s not like I mean to! It just sorta happens!” You pouted, debating on pinching Jade, as he chuckled at your offended response. 

You decided to look up at the shore Jade swam to, noticing two figures walking along the coliseum pathway. 

“Hey, I think that’s them! Hey! Riddle! Yev!” You called out to the two figures, drawing their attention. You waved a free hand, squealing as Jade sped up, making you fall against his back and clasp onto him again. 

“Jade! Careful!”

“Now, now, my pearl.” This was the first time he’d ever refer to you as ‘pearl’ outside his thoughts. Though, he was more focused on your arms around him rather than the words coming out of his mouth. 

“Have faith. I would never let you get hurt under my care.”

Jade sped back up, and despite yourself, you let out small screams of glee as adrenaline ran through your veins as you rode on Jade like a rollercoaster at a water park. 

It took but a minute to make it to the shore, much sooner than the pair of students who were still making their way over. You crawled off Jade and up the sandy shore, grabbing your hair and wringing the water out. You hear the shimmering sound you’d associated with the twins and Azul’s transformation, turning to see Jade dusting himself off, perfectly dry in his lab uniform. 

“…Are you kidding?”

Jade looked up, looking at you with confusion. 

“I beg your pardon?”

“You’re dry! You literally were just a merman, in the water, and now you’re just dry!?”

Jade looked taken aback, before laughing at your angry face. 

Oh, my! How cute! You’re almost never angry, what a delightful view!

“My apologies for not being courteous enough to suffer alongside you.” Jade walked over to you as you started working getting the water out of your goggles. He was still chuckling at you.

“It’s a perk of our transformation potions. Quite convenient, yes. Oh, but you poor thing. All soaked.”

Jade stopped, a blush filling his cheeks as he stared at your torso. He turned away, clearing his throat.

“I do believe that the water soaked through…ah…your shirt.”

A gasp left your mouth, looking down to quickly snatch your lab coat closed and button it up. It didn’t really matter, though, as Jade’s mind was filled with the image of your wet, seek through shirt and the view of your chest. 

Today…has…been so, so wonderful~

You sighed, looking over to the students walking over. 

“I’ll ask Riddle to help dry me off with a spell or something. Though…that’s not him.”

You squinted at the pair, now within a reasonable view, realizing it was Aspen and Wynfred. 

Did you? Did they follow me here?!

“Prefect, there you are—why are you wet?” Aspen stopped, looking your sopping form up and down with a raised brow. “And Jade too—ugh, never mind.”

“Wynfred here has something he’d like to tell you, but you left before he could. It’s something incredibly important! Go on Wynfred, tell them!”

Aspen turned around and pushed Wynfred, who was digging his feet into the ground, towards you and Jade as you wring water out of your clothes. A small trench was forming as Aspen continued to push the frozen ginger closer to you, who was currently clenching his fists to his sides. Staring at you wide-eyed, Wynfred’s eyes darted between you and Aspen, who was smiling and gesturing to you. 

“Go on…” Do it, you idiot!

“Uh, is everything alright? Wynfred, are you okay? Did something happen? Did you get hurt or—”

“PLEASE GO OUT WITH ME!” With a sudden burst of confidence, Wynfred ran forward to grasp your hands with his. “I think you’re a wonderful housewarden! And I am equally great, so we’d make a great pair!!”

His sparkling eyes would be cute, if it wasn’t for how tightly he clenched your hands. And Aspen, of course. 

Yes! Go out with him, so I can get you off of Jade’s back! Come on! Say something! Do you know how hard it was to convince him to ask you out?! Say something!

Wynfred’s very sudden confession, which you're doubting was a real confession and not just a misguided push from Aspen, shut you and the surrounding area up. The silence was deafening. Even the birds and the breeze stopped, as if mocking your predicament. Minus the scandalous gasp from your left, no one spoke. 

Wait, who the hell gasped?

You turned to look at Riddle and Yev, who had run down the castle to meet you and Jade. Though, Riddle looked like he just swallowed a lemon, while Yev was clutching a hand to his chest as he looked at your group with an open mouth. 

“Oh my—WYNFRED SALSON!” Yev marched over with a furious look, snatching Wynfred by the ear to scold him. “What in the world makes you think you can just go up to a housewarden and demand a date from them! That is not how a proper Pomefiore student acts!”

You backed away as Yev continued scolding Wynfred, pitying him. Riddle walked over to you and leaned down to inspect your face and arms, prodding at you and checking for any wounds.  

“Well, that is certainly awkward. Are you alright? You didn’t get hurt, did you?” 

“Ah, no.” You shook your head, smiling as you turned to look at Jade. “Jade actually…”

You froze, as did Riddle, upon noticing Jade’s expression. Or, more accurately, the lack thereof. Instead of his usual smile, or even the sweet ones he’d been giving you earlier, Jade’s face was a blank slate, eyes focused solely on Wynfred’s form. 

I will drag you into the deepest depths known to man until the pressure pops your eyes out of your sockets, your heart bursts, and your lungs fill with the bitter cold of the sea. I will watch your body turn into bloody, liquified mush you stupid, arrogant, waste of space! Stay away from my mate! Mine! Mine! Mine! MINE!

Jade's expression quickly changed back to his usual smile, though he was still emanating an aura that could be best described as “bloodthirsty”. Murderous even! Sanguinary, if you wanted to be poetic. Riddle at least had noticed it, as he leaned close to whisper. 

“Did something happen with Jade? I figured he would be annoyed that he fell into the lake, but he seems…rather….”

“Homicidal?”

“I was going to be nice and say ‘furious,’ but yes. Homicidal fits quite well.”

“Ugh!” Wynfred started shoving against Yev, who was still rambling angrily at Wynfred for his ‘lack of etiquette’ apparently. 

“Look, Prefect! I would quite like to go out with you on a date! I think you’re very nice to everyone in the dorm, and I am also nice!” 

You think Wynfred chose to ignore Aspen’s snort, green eyes darting to him and back to you. 

“Besides, I’ve been told that we’d make a great match! Just ask Aspen! He’s the one who suggested that I—MmmPh!”

Aspen ran over to slap his hand over Wynfred’s mouth, laughing nervously as he glanced at Jade. Said man was now squinting at Aspen with annoyance and distaste. 

Really, Aspen? I expected better from you, little squid. 

“I was just, uh, supporting my fellow roommate!” The pink haired boy continued to nervously laugh. “You know how it is! I’m just being benevolent, l-like the Sea Witch!”

Jade let out a small chuckle, tilting his head. “Is that so?”

“Yes!”  Wynfred managed to shove Aspen’s hands away, reaching for yours again, though his smile faltered as you stumbled back. “Sorry! I don’t mean to be so forward. But I know how busy you’ll be getting as Halloween comes up, and I wanted to ask you on a date during the celebration so that—”

“Oh no. I’m afraid that simply won’t work.” Jade finally stepped forward, wrapping a hand around your shoulders and bringing you close.

Riddle made a noise, and from the corner of your eye you could see him give Jade a disapproving glare. 

“W-what? Why!” Wynfred thinned his lips, glaring at Jade and his hold around you.

I’d make for a great date! My siblings say so! Aspen says so too!

Jade titled his head, giving Wynfred a mock sympathetic look. 

“Well, the Prefect will simply be too busy with helping me with selling products for Octavinelle during Halloween. After all, Ramshackle’s haunted amusement park makes for the perfect environment to sell food and drinks, especially at the prices Azul places.”

I’m sure I can convince him to do so easily enough.

“What?” Aspen scoffed, blinking at Jade incredulously. “Azul never mentioned that!” 

“Oh, we were still figuring out the details. Our lovely Prefect here was going to help us.” Jade cooed as he leaned down to rest his cheek against the top of your head. 

Mine. 

“But we can discuss more once Azul has the finer details figured out. Now, if you two don’t mind, we all need to be heading back to Yev’s lab and get started on our project. We’ve lost valuable time with this trap door fiasco, haven’t we?”

“Right…” You slowly answered, looking at Riddle who nodded, still eyeing Jade. Yev perked up, wiping imaginary dust off his lab uniform as he too agreed.

“Right, you are Jade. I’m not done with you, Wynfred. I will be speaking to you about your manners later this week.” 

Yev sneered at Wynfred, who scoffed in return, as he turned his heel and waved for your group to follow. Jade did so, giving Wynfred another blank stare before turning to you and smiling. 

“Shall we?” Let’s go, my pearl.

“Uh, give me a sec. Riddle, can you help me with a drying spell?”

“Oh, of course. Excuse me.” Riddle walked around Jade as he took out his wand, shooing Jade and the two freshmen still lingering. “Go, we will meet you there. And you two.”

Both of the younger students froze under Riddle’s gaze. The redhead’s reputation and strict gaze followed him everywhere it seemed. 

“You’ve made the day excitable enough, off you go. Perhaps think about learning more tact, especially around your upperclassmen. Go”

 The stern end of his sentence spooked the two to run off to Ramshackle, you presume. Riddle cleared his throat, drawing your attention as the tip of his wand glowed a soft red. 

“Do you want to tell me what’s going on with you and Jade?” Riddle asked, showing you the pattern he waved his wand in for you to copy and use on your legs. Your friend focused on your arms and back. 

“Nothing! I don’t know what you’re talking about.” You quickly replied, focusing on keeping the spell up.

“Oh? So he wasn’t all over you when that fresh tried asking you out? He didn’t shut him down and stare him down like he wanted to tear him apart with his teeth? (Name), please. Don’t take me for a fool.”

“I’m not! It’s not what you think.”

“And what do you think I think?” That I’m a dullard?

“I don’t think you’re a dullard, or whatever, it’s just complicated!”

Riddle huffed, giving you a once over as he hooked his arm with yours and dragged you up to the castle steps. 

“I didn’t say that part out loud, you know.”

…Huh?

“What are you talking about?”

Riddle scoffed, reaching over to adjust your tie. Something he’d often do for you. 

“I noticed pretty early on. It’s quite easy to tell when someone is reading your mind when they react to each and everything you say and think.”

“What! How do you—”

“That, and also Ace is known for his loud mouth.”

You tossed your head back, groaning as you pinched the bridge of your nose. 

“That dumbass.”

A small laugh left Riddle’s lips, smiling as you glared at him. “Don’t worry. I gave him a stern talking to. If it helps, he was only discussing it with Deuce, who I assume you also told?”

Nodding in affirming, Riddle continued, “I guessed. It certainly explains your strange behavior at times. Though I do have one question.”

“Shoot.”

“How long have you known about Jade’s feelings for you?”

“WHAT—oof!” You tripped over the castle steps, just barely catching yourself with Riddle grabbing your arm. “What are we talking about?”

“Floyd cornered me a few weeks ago. Both of our clubs got off at the same time, and he chased me around until he cornered me in one of the stables. He was complaining about how Jade got to be around his ‘mate’ all the time for class, but he barely saw his own.” 

Annoying eel he is. Why would I care about his damn love life? 

Riddle rolled his eyes at the mention of Floyd, though he continued. 

“It didn’t click until earlier, when I saw how…hmm…handsy he was with you.” 

You sighed, “It’s that noticeable?” 

“Only sometimes.” Riddle shrugged, patting your shoulder consolingly. “Especially when that poor freshman tried asking you out. Speaking of that, what are you going to tell him?”

You blinked at Riddle, confused. “What do you mean?”

Oh dear, catch up, Prefect. 

Riddle sighed, “Well, it’s not always appropriate for a housewarden to date one of their students. You’ll turn him down, yes? Besides, with how your admirer was looking at him, it would most likely be better for Wynfred’s well-being anyway.”

“Oh, yeah. You’re right…” 

You let out a tired sigh. Most likely, you’d have to take an extra long bath tonight to get the stress out of your bones.

“I’ll let him down gently later. Apparently, I have to talk to Azul about being a food vendor for the dorm’s haunted house.”

When you finally made it back to the classroom, a panel in the wall revealed a staircase, which Yev and Jade were waiting by. Jade’s eyes lit up at the sight of you, though he physically remained poised and proper. 

Welcome back, my darling! I hope that nasty little barnacle didn’t ruin your mood!

You chose to ignore Jade and called out to Yev, “So you said you had an idea for our final project. What kind of potion were you thinking?”

Yev perked up, proudly puffing his chest. “Oh yes, you two should love this! We will be making a blot preventative! I bet you two wished you had that last year, hm? I know, I’m brilliant!”

Both you and Riddle stared blankly at Yev, who was still standing proud, as Jade eyed him disapprovingly. 

“Hey, Riddle, what if I jumped out the window? For fun?”

“I’d still put a leash on you.”

“Damn.”

comments and reblogs appreciated 🩷

[yuri-is-online]

Hi! Congratulations on getting more followers! You totally deserve it:)

Can I ask for prompt 5 with Floyd, Idia and Leona?

Thank you<3

5. Jealousy pt.1- seeing their partner wearing someone else's jacket

（＾ワ＾） thank you annon, your words mean a lot. Of course you can! how did i know Floyd was gonna get this prompt

notes: they/them pronouns used for Yuu, miscommunication and jealousy but everything ends happy. Check out the rest of the event requests here.

Floyd

Floyd unceremoniously dumps you off his in a secluded corner of the gymnasium hallway.   “Shrimpy…" he whines, yanking on the hem of the used gym shirt you are wearing as he uses his other arm to cage you against the wall "where did you get that shirt?” “From the laundry basket in your room this morning?”  He had stolen your blazer a few days ago to as a joke so you had impulsively decided to pay him back by snatching something of his. He's always whining about wanting you to wear is clothes anyway, why is he so upset? “It’s yours isn’t it?” “Nah.” Floyd's lips purse in displeasure.  “Nah, that's Jade’s not mine.  If ya look, he has his name written in stupid little letters on the tag.”  Oh.  OH.  Well, now you just feel stupid and fix your eyes firmly on his shoes. How could you be so stupid? Of course, some of Jade's clothes would be in the room's ONE laundry basket. Hell, you aren't actually sure Floyd uses the hamper now that you think about it. You take a deep breath, bracing yourself for the teasing as you look up prepared to apologize, only to completely lose your train of thought at the sight of Floyd yanking his jersey over his head. “FLOYD!”

“Huh?  What’s wrong lil shrimpy?" A very sharp grin emerges from the cloth, though he doesn't bother to take his arms out of the shirt just yet. "I'm on the bench aaaaaaaany way ‘s not like I need it.” “You’ll be cold!” It's the wrong argument to make when he practically has you pinned to the wall. “No I won’t,” he giggles, good mood blown back to life by the flames of your embarrassment “and if you’re that worried just stay here and squeeze me.”

Idia

"You're seriously too unaware for your own good." Idia mutters, wrapping himself further into Jack's jacket as you try to hide yourself in his hoodie. The outline of his hair flickers a gentle pink as the two of you try your best to avoid looking at each other.

"He was just worried about me being cold because I wouldn't stop sneezing during class." Idia's sweatshirt smells surprisingly nice, and once you get the courage to look up at your boyfriend he doesn't look bad in the regular uniform jacket either. Though you have to admit, he is at his cutest when he is comfortable and he definitely is not right now.

"We aren't in the same classes so I miss out on time limited quests like that, huh." He mutters, reaching up to fidget with his headphones while you wonder if touching him would spook him too much. "It's almost like everyone forgets we're together."

"I'd never let them do that!" You decide to risk it, wrapping your arms around Idia's torso in a loose embrace he can escape if he needs to. It forces him to really look you over, taking in the full sight of you in his hoodie and a deep, deep breath.

It makes his hair explode into a beautiful hot pink display.

"On second thought take it off." He squeaks, jumping back from your hug and burying his face in his hands.

"Idia-"

"Quick, I can't handle this much agrro!"

Leona

There is an angel at rest in the furthest corner of the NRC library. Their head is firmly smashed against a text book, leaving a clear dent in their cheek that is threatening to turn into a series of paper cuts. Anyone would look at them and be drawn in...

Which was precisely the problem. Someone had forgotten they had a much more comfortable place to nap and a much more comfortable partner than a stack of old books, and hadn't gone looking for him, forcing Leona to do some work for once. And good thing he decided to go on patrol too, some small brained herbivore had decided to try and push in on his territory. As if sensing his presence, you stir in your sleep slightly and Leona suppresses a smile. Barely.

"Oy." Leona bats the offending jacket off from around your shoulders, resisting the urge to turn it to sand, reminding himself that would be petty and beneath him.

Exactly where that jacket was right now.

"Leona?" You murmur sleepily, trying to resist the temptation to rub your eyes. His heart clenches painfully in denial of how cute you are.

"What are you some sort of cub? Making me come looking for you like this." His insults make you smile for some reason as you reach to shove your books back into your bag blissfully unaware of the jealousy storming behind them.

"Let's go take a nap," you hum, well aware those are some of Leona's favorite words "I had a really nice dream about you, wanna actually wake up in your arms next time." Well now, Leona certainly isn't going to argue with that.

[taurusdesign]

Lilith Chillin' Areas - Part 1 (Home Bar) Availible for Everyone!

Hi everyone!

A new year, a new set. (I'm not counting Jade Build Part 2 as a set from this year, because I started making it last year.) Anyway. The first theme of Chillin' Areas series is "Home Bar". The set contains 50 items. What makes this set special for me is that I have tried a brand new color palette. Actually, I chose the colors used in packs such as Dream Home Decorator. You can see the new colors and items in the gifs at the very beginning. The items included in the set are as follows.

Bar

Back Bar

Back Bar Drinks (This item allows you to use the back bar as a functional bar.)

Bar Stool (2 versions)

Ceiling Extension

Deco Drink Bottles (10 different styles)

Deco Glasses (20 different styles) You can place these glasses on the rails located on the bar, the back bar and the ceiling extension. When you place the cups here, it will automatically turn upside down.

Deco Beverage Dispanser

Deco Beverage Bucket

Deco Bartender Kit

Deco Straws

Wine Cabinet

Wines (This item allows you to use the wine cabinet as a functional bar and this is referred to in the game as nectars.)

Side Cabinet

Sink (This sink is specially designed for the back bar. It may look strange if you use it elsewhere.)

Sul Sul Sign

Water Glass (I extract this out of the base game to use as a decor in the sink. But when I added a slot to the sink, it became unusable.)

LED Lights (for Bar, Back Bar, Nectar Cabinet and Side Cabinet.)

I guess that's it.

All items are Base Game Compatible.

The color tags are marked correctly.

You can find everything by typing "Lilith Chilling Areas".

I'm going to get some rest and start making the new set. It seems impossible for me to make it to this month.

While the infant update is coming, I'm planning to prepare a set for babies and toddlers as well. I hope my plans will work out smoothly.

I hope you enjoy the set. Thanks for everything 💖💖💖

(Public Release February 18th, 2023)

Download at:

Patreon

CurseForge

[zgvlt]

sending your crush a survey form hcs part 2 second years x reader (separate) -> riddle, ruggie, azul

author's note: jade, floyd, kalim, jamil, and silver will be posted separately because of the tumblr image limit, i can't fit them all into one post (also i'm having trouble with massive lag for this post as is huhu)

general tags: gn reader, fluff + attempt at humor, sfw, not beta read, mix of text and images (for images, alt text/image description available)

part 1 w/ first years

character: RIDDLE ROSEHEARTS premise/trope: sending Riddle an "academic survey" to answer

HOW HE REACTS WHEN YOU SEND THE FORM LINK

You've done too good a job at making the link look legit, at hiding your intentions. Using a link shortener like twst.ly so that no preview would show up, talking about how you needed respondents, all that jazz.

Riddle would help any student in need (academically) if he was capable of doing so, he was just that kind of person, but because he liked you he was very willing to go above and beyond.

He was going to help anyway, but telling him things like "I really appreciate you doing this for me," seals the deal for him.

You had a survey that needed answering and you wanted him to answer it because you needed respondents? Well, what if he sends the link to other people as well?

He asks you about how much respondents you still need, though you don't respondent yet. He decides to delay sending it to the rest of Heartslabyul for now, only sending it to Cater and Trey.

Thank the Sevens for that.

Trey and Cater are immediately poking fun at him, telling him to actually open the survey first because they knew that he wouldn't want to send it to anyone if he saw the contents.

"Aren't you lucky you sent this to us and not the rest of Heartslabyul?"

"How embarrassed would you have been if you sent this to the Dorm Leaders gc?"

"Or worse... to Ace and Deuce."

He's rather angry, not necessarily at you (though he is a little bit annoyed, could you not have done something else less... troublesome?) but mostly at himself for not checking first. He should be more vigilant next time.

RIDDLE: Cater said this was a trend, but... I still don't understand why you would make something like this.

You haven't responded yet, so Riddle decides to answer the form all the way through.

In his head he wonders, whatever happened to regular courtship? Like he's not flustered by the whole situation.

Riddle's answers carry that tone where it feels like he's seriously questioning your intentions/decisions, but also like he's trying to answer genuinely. It's almost like he's trying to let you have your cake and eat it too (that is to say, letting you have your fun) despite not being quite sure of how to go about it.

The point is, the fact that he actually answers it is a miracle in itself, and you don't shy from letting him know you appreciate it.

HOW HE ANSWERS THE QUESTIONS

AFTER HE ANSWERS THE FORM

Actively seeks you out in person to confront you about the form. He has a feeling you were being serious about it despite the formatting, so he pretty much confirms that you do like him.

Also asks you why you would want to go about it this way, and most answers don't exactly satisfy him, but at the end of the day he's happy about the results.

You like him, he likes you, and that's what's important, really.

(Though he has no real intentions of telling his mother that he's getting into a relationship, he wonders how she would react if she found out not only did he not ask his s/o out first, but that you did it in such a bizarre manner)

"I don't think I would even give this the time of day if someone else sent it," Riddle tells you honestly, "but because it's you... even something this weird is endearing."

character: RUGGIE BUCCHI premise/trope: sending Ruggie the classic crush form, except you send it when he's busy with work and now he can't concentrate because he's too busy blushing and giggling and kicking his legs at the thought of you 👍👍

HOW HE REACTS WHEN YOU SEND THE FORM LINK

He hadn't planned on viewing any of your messages at first (or anyone's messages, really). He planned on viewing them once he finished up for the day.

But Leona was getting annoyed with the constant beeping, and honestly he was too (like, couldn't they just send it all in one message, whatever it was they wanted to say?) so he moved to view the messages quickly, maybe answer if he felt like it, then mute his phone for an hour.

Except he saw that the messages were from you, and he caught a peep of the link preview... and then he just lost it.

"It" being all sense of focus and comprehension and he knows it's bad because Leona's staring at him weirdly.

"Why are you blushing and giggling like a school girl what the hell..."

Leona just doesn't get it, Ruggie justifies. When the actual love of your life confirms their feelings for you it's enough to make anyone collapse to the floor and weep, and if anything Ruggie is holding up pretty well by, well, still being able to fold a shirt properly in spite of it all.

And then he almost messes up the laundry by mixing the colors with the whites, so maybe he is too distracted after all.

RUGGIE: ya rly hda to go send it now of all times, dontcha?? do ya want me to embarras myself in fornt of leona or smth???? wth have mercy on me

He makes a bunch of typos but he can't be bothered to correct them.

He can't really focus for the rest of the day, and when he's free from his assigned tasks he heads straight for his phone. He should be studying, but he doesn't think he can focus on that at this point without reading the form and just... seeing if you're for real, for real.

Ruggie answers like he's trying to be slick but he also can't help but slip in just how much he likes you and the types of reactions you get out of him.

HOW HE ANSWERS THE QUESTIONS

AFTER HE ANSWERS THE FORM

He needs to call you (honestly would prefer to meet up in person, but it's pretty damn late and he wants you to get your rest and... yeah, the in person talk can wait for a little bit)

Honestly you've just... lightened up his mood, like a lot. Like he just knows he's going to be full of energy and motivation tomorrow, and maybe the days after because of how much happiness you've given him.

You can tease him all you want for his answers and the spelling/grammar mistakes (in his defense, his hands were shaking the whole time!) but he can't even get himself to be too upset by it. You're laughing and giggling and that's all enough for Ruggie's good mood to skyrocket.

After that dies down, though, the two of you end up planning for your upcoming date.

"Don't think I'm not gonna getcha back for this, shishishi..."

character: AZUL ASHENGROTTO premise/trope: sending an s/o application form to Azul, who's been crushing on you for a while now

HOW HE REACTS WHEN YOU SEND THE FORM LINK

Makes sure to check the link properly first since bait links are popular these days (he learned his internet safety from Idia). Messages you in a different platform to ask if you've been hacked.

When you tell him you were the one who sent the link, it still doesn't quite sink in that you're being genuine. Before a crush you are a friend and he does trust you, but a part of him wonders if this is some prank or if someone forced you to send him something like that. You must know how badly he likes you, don't you? Please don't make fun of his feelings like this.

He calls you to really make sure, and with some reassurance from you he finally understands that this isn't something mean, that it was a trend you wanted to hop on, and that you won't judge him for his answers

You tell him that he doesn't have to answer if it makes him uncomfortable, that you just thought it seemed fun, but he tells you he does want to answer it.

"If... if you really consider me as someone who could become your partner... When opportunity knocks on my door, who am I to not answer its call?"

He tries to sound more confident, but inevitably hangs up because he doesn't think he can answer properly with you on the phone. He might end up typing a bunch of nonsense!

Azul struggles with having a fun answer and answering completely seriously, almost like it's a job interview or something. Doesn't realize until the last few questions that there are no other candidates to compete with. Maybe he should have skimmed all the questions first before answering.

The good thing, though, is that you do learn about how Azul sees romance, so even if the whole form was meant as something silly at first you do learn more about him.

HOW HE ANSWERS THE QUESTIONS

AFTER HE ANSWERS THE FORM

The last two questions gave Azul some confidence when it came to pursuing you. There's just something reassuring about actually knowing that his feelings weren't unrequited as opposed to having to make assumptions or having to make the effort to get you to fall for him.

You've already made most of the first moves, from confessing your feelings (albeit not quite in person, maybe he could try doing that...), to being the one to ask him on a date... There must be something he can do. He wants to play on equal ground, make the first move as well.

That's when the idea strikes him. It's not very innovative, but there's no need to fix what's not broken, is there?

Azul sits in front of his laptop for approximately an hour, and when he's satisfied he converts the file into a PDF. It's not a very serious document, even if it's formatted as such, and that's how you know that he's finally eased up.

"Since I've passed the application period, the next step is to sign a partnership contract, is it not?"

masterlist | end notes

[ 1 ] twst.ly is basically bit.ly, the link shortener

[ 2 ] compared to part 1 (the first years) where it was set post-NRC, this time i set it during NRC. the remaining second years will also be set during NRC, though the third years is mixed 👍

[ 3 ] the text versions of the images are in the alt text/image description but do let me know if you would prefer it to be in the post itself!

[ 4 ] i'm thinking about whether i should continue making the forms manually instead of just using the actual google forms app, it's such a hassle my laptop keeps overheating these days huhu

[huffelpuff210]

His Obsession

His Obsession 

Chapter 1

:Jordan didn’t exactly know what she was getting into when she accidentally bumped into Bucky Barnes aka The king of New York the boss of the Mafia 

Warning:Stalking, kidnapping, Forced relationship, Forced Marriage, NonCon.

You were running down the street bumping into people every now and again. 

“Excuse me. Sorry.” You say as you continue to run

You were running late. You are a RN in the Emergency room. Working sometimes double even triple shifts. Not really having a personal life, Always working and if you weren’t working you were home sleeping. 

You turn the corner only to be knocked off you’re feet, about to fall on you’re ass. 

But you were quickly caught by the wrist and quickly pulled to you’re feet. 

“Sorry about that.” You hear 

You look up and see a man in a black suit. Rings on his left hand. Tattoo on the top of his left hand and it loos like it goes up his arm the way it disappears from the sleeves of his suit. 

He had dark hair that was almost shoulder length and icy blue eyes. 

“Oh no I’m sorry I wasn’t watching where I was going.” You say as you smile at him. 

You’re watch beeps. 

“Oh sugar plumbs I’m late! Sorry I have to go thank you for saving me from a nasty fall.” You say as you run down the street. 

Bucky watches as you disappear in the crowd of people A smirk on his face. He didn’t think there was anyone in this city that could smile at him like that. Most people take one look at him and shiver in fear. It did something to him, You’re long dark hair and Jade green eyes that reminded him of freshly cut grass, 

He didn’t fail to notice You’re name tag, Jordan Cross He smirked 

“I’ll be seeing you real soon doll.” He smirked 

He pulls out his phone hitting the contact number. 

“Natasha I need you to find an address for me.Jordan Cross She works at Mercy Hospital” He says 

“Okay, Text it to me when you find it.” He says hanging up the phone

He smirked knowing that he just found the one person that wasn’t aware of who he was or the profession he was in. 

It didn’t take long to locate you’re apartment, And it didn’t take much effort to get the key from the manager, All he had to do was give him a look. Which was very concerning. As he looked around you’re house he noticed there wasn’t much. No picture’s on the walls. The fridge and cabinets were empty. A TV and love seat in the main room, A a queen size bed in the bedroom. 

“Seems pretty basic.” Steve says as they look around

“But no personality to it.” Nat says 

“Start hiding the cameras.” Bucky says everyone nods 

You were dead tired after working a double shift. All you wanted to do was shower and sleep screw eating it was way too much work. 

You unlock you’re door shuffling to the bathroom stripping you’re scrubs off and jumping in the shower for a much needed shower. 

After you’re quick shower you dress into a pair of plaid black and white shorts and you’re old collage jersey. Flopping on the bed without covering up you just fall into a deep sleep. But unknown to you, Bucky stood over you, His knuckles brushing against you’re cheek. 

“Soon doll. Soon You’ll be mine.” He whispers with a small smile on his face.

The next day you were running late again, Rushing out the door, and running down the streets to the hospital, You always end up shutting you’re alarm off to get a little extra sleep, You’re boss doesn’t ever give you a day off or ever cut you any slack when you are late he retaliates by making you work a double shift, He’s a complete tool in you’re eyes anyway, Bucky watched as you ran past the many people on the side walk bumping into a few on the way. He smiled knowing he was going to bide his time to set his plan into motion, He had been waiting to find someone like you for a very long time and He knew that you were a hard working woman who barley had a social or private life because of you’re job. From what he dug up on you you’re mother died when you were only five years old leaving you to be raised by you’re step father. In and out of the hospital a lot with mysterious injuries broken arm, cracked ribs, broken tail bone, the list went on and on it’s no mystery what was going on, You left for collage at the age of eighteen, graduating not long after. went for you’re clinical at the same hospital you currently work at now. Never had a vacation or personal day. This was a bit concerning for Bucky you didn’t have a life, all you did was work and sleep, hell you barley had any food in you’re apartment. He knew tonight he was going to take you away from this life, that you were going to have a better life with him and his men. You wouldn’t have to work hard just to get by anymore he was going to make sure of that if it was the last thing he did. He smiled and walked towards you’re apartment. 

He made himself comfortable sitting in you’re love seat in the main room and waited 

You sighed grabbing you’re purse and walking out of the hospital Eric you’re boss made you work a triple shift you were exhausted, You have a bruise on you’re bicep from him grabbing you when he called you to his office when you were late today. He said one more time and you are fired. What does he expect you work double sometimes triple shifts then he expects you to come in the same day after only a few hours of sleep. 

You unlock you’re apartment door, closing it behind you setting you’re purse on the counter. When a hand covers you’re mouth. 

“You’re late doll.” You hear from behind you. 

You try to struggle but the intruder was too strong you feel a prick in you’re neck and you can feel yourself getting weak and tired 

“Don’t worry doll you’ll be home soon.” Was the last thing you hear before falling into a deep slumber.

[wildlife4life]

Happy Birthday to ME!

In honor of my birthday today, I am celebrating by dropping chapter 2 of Three Taps for the Lombardi aka NFL Buck! YAY!!!!!

All the love and major props to @hippolotamus for beta reading and for the edit of Red's door in the fic!

Three Taps for the Lombardi

Mature // 3.9K // Chapter 2 “Chimney basically outed me to the team today. So now they all know I’m gay and have a boyfriend,” Eddie tells Buck when he slides into the bed later that evening. He gently nudges Jade, their black coat retriever mix, from her resting place next to the man who first bought her home.  She huffs in displeasure and leaps down, padding out of their bedroom, most likely heading to Christopher’s room. His boyfriend quirks an eyebrow. “Outed you? Have you been trying to hide it? I thought we agreed-“ Eddie groans. “I know what we agreed to, and I wasn’t hiding that I’m gay, but I’m not going around saying, 'Hi I'm Eddie Diaz from Houston and I only like dick.” Buck chokes on a laugh, but lets him continue. “I’ve been calling you my partner, no gender attached.  But then there were these girls at this awful country bar and they were being very persistent-“ “And you got annoyed, so you pulled the gay card,” Buck says with understanding. The fireman snorts. “Told them I have a boyfriend and I guess the team overheard, or my voice carries really well, I don’t know. But anyways we get in the truck and Chimney blurts out, ‘You’re gay?’ and it was all downhill from there.” Buck is shaking the bed with how hard he's laughing. "Oh my god, Eddie! He didn't out you, you did that yourself!"

Counting this as my seven sentence sunday as well... So thank you for the tags @diazsdimples @wikiangela and @daffi-990

Tagging (no pressure): @exhuastedpigeon @fortheloveofbuddie @rogerzsteven @disasterbuckdiaz @tizniz @lemonzestywrites @evanbegins @buck-coded @devirnis @glorious-spoon @thekristen999 @theotherbuckley @spotsandsocks @cal-daisies-and-briars @aroeddiediaz @sunshinediaz @watchyourbuck @lover-of-mine @hoodie-buck @elvensorceress @gayedmundodiaz @giddyupbuck @jesuisici33 @jeeyuns @bekkachaos @buddierights @try-set-me-on-fire @rainbow-nerdss @thewolvesof1998 @eddiebabygirldiaz @eddiiediaz @spaceprincessem @honestlydarkprincess @doublecheekeddiaz @prosperdemeter2 @transboybuckley @nmcggg @monsterrae1 @loserdiaz @perfectlysunny02

[scoonsalicious]

Unwanted: Chapter 15, Undermined - Pt. 3

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Avenger!Fem!Reader

Summary: When your FWB relationship with your best friend Bucky Barnes turns into something more, you couldn’t be happier. That is, however, until a new Avenger sets her sights on your super soldier and he inadvertently breaks your heart. You take on a mission you might not be prepared for to put some distance between the two of you and open yourself up to past traumas. Too bad the only one who can help you heal is the one person you can no longer trust.

Warnings: (For this part only; see Story Masterlist for general Warnings) Language, Jade Carthage (she's a warning), delusions.

Word Count: 661

Previously On...: You confronted Sam to question him about Bucky's claim that he happens to get hard when he fights. Fortunately, it seems like he was telling you the truth... about that, at least.

A/N: Ah, tis my final day of Spring Break. Back to regular life tomorrow, and no further breaks until the end of the school year :( Well, we have Memorial Day and now Juneteenth, so that's something, but it's still gonna be a loooong 11 weeks :/ But I gladly welcome the better weather. Did anyone watch the eclipse? I'm in the path of totality, but I slept through it, I think lol. It was cloudy here, anyway, so I didn't even notice.

Banner By: The absolutely amazing @mrsbuckybarnes1917!

Thank you to all those who have been reading; if you like what you've read, likes, comments, and reblogs give me life, and I truly appreciate them, and you!

Taglist: (Sadly, tag list is closed; Tumblr will not let me add anyone new. If you want to be notified when I update, please Follow me for Notifications!) @jmeelee @cazellen @mrsbuckybarnes1917 @blackhawkfanatic @buckybarnessimpp @hayjat @capswife @itsteambarnes @marygoddessofmischief @sebastians-love @learisa @lethallyprotected @rabbitrabbit12321 @buckybarnesandmarvel @fanfictiongirl77 @calwitch @fantasyfootballchampion @selella @jackiehollanderr @wintercrows @sashaisready @missvelvetsstuff @angelbabyyy99 @keylimebeag @maybefoxysouls @vicmc624 @j23r23 @wintercrows @crist1216 @cjand10 @pattiemac1@les-sel @dottirose @winterslove1917 @harperkenobi @ivet4 @casey1-2007 @mrsevans90 @steeph-aniie @bean-bean2000 @beanbagbitch @peachiestevie @wintrsoldrluvr @shadowzena43

Tumblr will not let me directly tag the following: @marcswife21 @erelierraceala @jupiter-107 @doublejeon @hiqhkey @unaxv @brookeleclerc

True to his word (almost as though he were actually trying to make it a habit), Bucky kept his distance from Carthage. Several times, FRIDAY had alerted you that Bucky and Jade had crossed paths somewhere within the Tower, and you would review the footage with bated breath, always expecting to see the worst, as if they would strip off their clothes and start fucking in the common room. But you were relieved to see that he continued ignoring her, acting as though she truly did not exist, and it seemed to be driving her mad with vexation. 

She was so perturbed by it that she eventually came to you looking for a way to get to him.

“I need to talk to Jamie,” she said, interrupting you mid-conversation with one of the scientists in your lab. 

“Okay,” you said, dismissing the scientist. No reason multiple people should have to suffer through this. “Then talk to him. It’s a free country.”

“He isn’t speaking to me,” she pouted. “He’s acting like I don’t exist!”

“That sounds like a ‘you’ problem,” you told her, trying to keep the smile from your face. “I’m not sure what you want me to do about it. Or that I’d actually want to do anything about it, even if I could, if I’m being completely honest.”

“I just don’t know what I did wrong!” she whined. You sneered at that. How could she be so completely lacking in self-awareness? Especially to come to you, of all people, after the things she’d texted to Bucky, after trying to destroy your relationship.

“Would you like the list alphabetically, or in chronological order?” you asked. 

She rolled her eyes at you. “You know, you should have just stayed away from him. Everything would have gone according to plan if he wasn’t so fucking obsessed with you.”

“According to plan?” you asked her, eyebrows shooting to the top of your forehead. “What the fuck do you mean by that?”

Jade seemed to stumble for words. “I– he– you knew I liked him when I first interviewed. And just to get back at me because I was maybe a little bit rude to you, you went and stole him for yourself!”

You sighed and pinched the bridge of your nose. You wondered if you should ask Tony for a raise, because while you were paid extraordinarily well, you sure as shit weren’t paid enough to deal with this. “Listen, Carthage,” you began, “because I’m just going to tell you this once: My relationship with Bucky started long before either one of us ever even knew of your existence.” Technically not a lie, just a small fudge on the truth. Friendship was a type of relationship, after all. “And it’s going to keep going long after both of us have forgotten your name.”

“You don’t understand what you’re putting me through!” she cried, tears forming at the waterline of her eyes. 

You stared at her for a moment, unblinking. “What I’ve put you through?!” you asked her, clenching your fists to keep from punching her in that annoyingly pretty face– you knew that would lead to a fist fight you had no chance of winning. “You have been nothing but a thorn in my side since the moment you first walked into this Tower. Before you showed up, I was the happiest I’d ever been, but you had to come along and try to sink your claws into the man I love. You ruined my relationship; fuck, you ruined my life.”

You didn’t know what effect you expected your words to have on Jade, but you weren’t prepared for her insidious smile as you finished speaking. “Maybe you should be asking yourself, if Jamie loved you as much as you love him, why your relationship was so easy to ruin.”

With a flip of her hair over her shoulder, she was gone, leaving you alone, speechless and freshly betrayed all over again.

<- Previous Part / Next Part ->

[thegoldencontracts]

What's In A Bird: The Topsy-Turvy Ceremony

Many folks say that the freshmen of Night Raven College grow odder and odder by the year. And, of course, in this year, Riddle Rosehearts, Ruggie Bucchi, Azul Ashengrotto, Jade Leech, Floyd Leech, Jamil Viper, Silver, and one transfer student soon to arrive from Royal Sword Academy - Kalim Al Asim - will prove this notion correct for yet another year.

Length: 2.4k words

Notes: A fic of the sophomores in freshman year like I promised, at last! Here's to hoping this doesn't completely flop. Let me know if you'd like to be tagged!

This also serves as a kind of 400 follower special (not really though), I'm very grateful to everyone who's supported my fics, and feel free to send in any requests for this series! Anyways, on with the fic.

It was a known fact among the students and staff of Night Raven College that every single year of freshmen was odder than the last. For the one-hundred years or so that Dire Crowley had been headmage, he had never once been proven wrong.

And it seemed as if the headmage would be proven right once more.

This year's freshmen were all an odd bunch, it seemed. Divus looked over them scrutinizingly.

"Have any of them caught your attention?" Mozus asked. "I for one find the notion that you've deigned to pay attention to the ceremony and ensure no mishaps occur for once much too good to be true."

Divus merely sighed.

"The ceremony's going wrong either way, no need to be so uptight about 'supervision', or whatnot. The pups'll turn out just fine."

Mozus scoffed.

"Even some of our incoming freshmen have more responsibility than you, it seems," he said.

"Like that one redhead?"

It was so odd how - despite red being a common hair color - they immediately knew which boy Divus was referring to. Oh, Dire was so magnanimous for putting up with all these peculiar students!

"All of you, get in line at once, or it shall be Off With Your Head!" said the redhead boy in question. Threatening to- chop people's heads off? How odd.

Dire knew his name; like the kind and attentive headmage he was, he always cared for his students!

Yes - Puzzle Flowershape. Something like that.

"Riddle Rosehearts, no?" Mozus said. Close enough! "He's a rather good student from what I've seen."

Come to think of it, why were so many of the freshmen wearing clunky looking collars? That was a horrible fashion choice, was it not?

Oh, well. Dire would put up with that terrible fashion choice. The things he did for his students!

"Those things around their neck'll really get in the way of their exercise!" Ashton scoffed. "It looks like I'll have to teach these kids the proper way to dress for maximum power!"

"It looks like those kids have no magical aura! The collar's a curse, now isn't that tragic?" Sam said. "I'll be there if those poor kids need any help undoing that curse of theirs."

"I do hope you'll provide the aid for free?"

"No promises!" Sam said, before looking at the students in curiosity.

A few seconds later, Sam pointed to two of the students in the crowd.

"Those two seem smart," he said, pointing first to a hyena beastman, then to a grey-haired boy. By sharp, of course, Sam was referring to business-smart. There was quite a difference between that, and academic prowess. The hyena boy only seemed to possess the second with those wide eyes of his, and the grey-haired boy, hiding behind two identical twins, seemed to possess neither.

Of course, Dire was a kind man. He'd give Sam a chance to explain his reasoning.

"Are you certain?" Dire asked. Sam merely nodded with a chuckle.

"Clever hawks hide their talons, you know," he said. That was true.

And, come to think of it, the boy's behavior still required observing.

"Hey there," said the boy to the Pomefiore Housewarden. "I got you that makeup you wanted."

How exactly had he acquired that brand? Dire vaguely recalled some talk of how difficult it was to acquire. Truly, he was such a good headmage, always listening to his students!

"Thanks," said the Pomefiore Housewarden in turn, handing the hyena boy a massive wad of cash. How- How had the boy already acquired that much money?

"Those wide, shrunken eyes are likely a product of a lack of access to food," Sam said. Come to think of it, the boy was, well, a hyena. Did that not mean he was from the slums? And, considering the ingenuity required to survive in the slums as a mage, well-

"You're quite right!" he said with a laugh. "But what of the other boy?"

Of an average, unremarkable height, and a frail stature, the grey-haired boy had lodged himself between two twins.

"We should be looking at those two!" Ashton said, pointing to the tall, muscular twin boys. "They'd be great for the basketball team with those athletic reflexes of theirs!"

It would be best to observe first before coming to judgments,

"Dude," said one of the twins, practically shoving the phone into the grey-haired boy's face. "Check out this rare pepe."

The grey-haired boy scoffed, pushing the phone away with a scowl.

"The only thing I'll be 'checking out' is the socials of our peers," he said. "And the picture of the dearest headmage looking at cat photos while a student is attempting to get his attention," said the other twin.

How- How had they even seen that? Dire would have to do whatever it took to ensure that photo for the sake of avoiding bad PR- er, avoiding the entirely false notion that he was anything less than a kind-hearted and diligent headmage who would never ignore his students!

"I think you understand what I mean now," Sam said.

"Indeed," said Dire. "To think, he'd so viciously use photoshop to make it seem as if I'd ever do such a thing!"

"You would," Mozus said. "I find myself more concerned with how exactly they attained that picture."

However, before any further discussion could occur, a shriek was heard.

"Ugh!" said one of the twin boys - the droopy-eyed one. "This is boring."

That was never a good sign. 'This is boring' was the last thing said before the ceremony had gone wrong ten years ago, or twenty-three years ago, or thiry-five years ago, or fourty-two years ago, or fifty-two years ago, or during one of those ceremonies over sixty years ago that Dire had forgetten about.

Out of all the phrases said before ceremonies had gone wrong, 'This is boring' was - by far - the most common.

"Hey!" the droopy-eyed boy said, eyes on that one redhead who was surrounded by students in collars. "You look interesting, Goldfishie."

"My name is Riddle Rosehearts, not 'Goldfishie'," said the redheaded boy, Riddle. "And you'd do well to return to your place in the line."

"Nah," said the droopy-eyed boy, flicking his pen and causing a vine to settle itself on the ground. "Hey, this stuff's pretty cool!"

"I will not stand for this insolence! Off With Your Head!"

A collar wrapped itself around the droopy-eyed boy's neck.

"H-Huh?" he said, pulling at it in confusion. Riddle smirked.

"I warned you," he said. So that was what he meant by 'off with your head'. "You've broken the rules, and now you must-"

And then the fire-bolt was hurled.

It was a terrible, terrible thing, catching fire on the conjured vine and spreading further from there, sending students fleeing.

"Holy shit, dude!" the droopy-eyed boy said, eyes sparkling with glee. "You really are interesting, Goldfishie!"

Riddle had been the one to send the fire-bolt? This whole thing was simply growing more and more absurd!

"I didn't send that!" Cried Riddle.

...T-Then who had?

"Dire," Divus said through grit teeth. "Our top priority right now is ensuring no one gets burned. We can figure out which naughty pup did this later."

That was true. There was a bit of panicking, to say the least.

Which was to say that every student was in a frenzy.

"We're all gonna die!"

"I'm too young for this, Lord Hades! Spare me!"

"Take him instead!"

"H-Hey, don't take me, take him!"

"Are you going to put out the fire, or what?" Divus said, tapping his foot impatiently. Dire could somewhat hear him over the sound of screams.

"What have you done, Floyd?" said the grey-haired boy. "From now on we'll all be labelled as delinquents!" "Hey!" The droopy-eyed boy - Floyd - said. "Don't blame me for that thing, Azul!"

Azul just sighed.

"Jade, was this your doing?"

The other twin - Jade - shook his head.

"I do look forward to seeing the face of the man who disrupted the ceremony in such a manner," he said with a laugh.

Those three were odd. But even odder was the raven-haired boy who seemed entirely calm in the midst of the mess, merely putting out the fire gathering around him.

"Hello there," he said without so much as a glance as the hyena-beastman approached him.

"Heeeyyyy there, bud!" The hyena boy said. "You seem- not freaked out."

"My name is Jamil Viper," said the raven-haired boy - Jamil - almost robotically. "Please do not concern yourself with my affairs. I am but a humble se-"

And all of a sudden, Jamil snapped out of his robotic little monologue, looking down at his hands in shock.

"Nevermind," he said, mumbling a smug "I'm free for now" underneath his breath. The hyena boy blinked in confusion.

"What?"

"Nothing, nothing," Jamil said. "What's your name?"

"Ruggie," Ruggie answered hastily. "And what's got you so calm? Isn't the school on fire or something? Don't tell me-"

Ruggie flashed a conspiratorial grin.

"Did you start it?" He asked. Jamil shook his head.

"I didn't," he said. "This just isn't all that severe an emergency. We'll put out the fire with ease."

With ease? By himself? Was Jamil not a mere freshman? He knew naught but basic magic, certainly not enough to put out a fire as big as this one!

"Uh, putting it out ourselves?" Ruggie said. "Don't you wanna get like, the headmage or something- Oh, hey there, headmage!" Ruggie shouted in an attempt to be heard through the screams of other students.

Ruggie had finally noticed him, it seemed.

"Hello, esteemed students!" Dire said. "My name is Dire Crowley, headmage of Night Raven College, a-"

"Can you put out the fire?" Ruggie shouted. Why did no one wish to hear about his extremely important information?

"Yes, yes, of course," Dire said. "I will put out the fire."

But he didn't have to. Divus was already there, getting the students attention with the crack of his whip.

"Pups!" he said. "No need to panic. The fire will be put out shortly. Next time any such emergency occurs, I expect you all to follow the procedure constantly taught to you during fire drills instead of flailing around like blind chihuahuas."

A thin sheet of water was summoned upon the floor, Divus flicked his magic-pen. The fire was put out. Phew.

Floyd raised his hand.

"Yes?" Divus asked.

"What's a fire drill?"

"Keep quiet, Floyd," Azul hissed to him in what he likely thought was so quiet no one could hear. However, on top of immense magnanimity and diligence, Dire also had impeccable hearing. One of the many blessings of being a fae, before turning to the Octavinelle housewarden. "I apologize for any inconvenience you've been caused."

He knew he was going to be sorted into Octavinelle, didn't he? Azul was most likely correct about that. However, it would be rather comedic if he was sorted somewhere else.

"You'd do well to apologize to everyone, er- Floyd," said Riddle. "I shall take off the collar if you can prove you've thoroughly repented."

"Uh," Floyd paused, before going completely off-topic. "I think the guppy that's under the chair next to me leg should wake up."

Riddle looked at him incredulously.

"What in the name of the Seven are you blathering on about-" A glance underneath the chair next to Floyd's leg revealed a silver-haired boy, a thin shield of water conjured around him.

Smart.

He'd fallen asleep though.

Ruggie creeped over towards the silver-haired boy, shaking his shoulders awkwardly.

"You good?" Jamil motioned for him to stop.

"He likely has some underlying condition," he said. "I'd wager it's magically induced narcolepsy."

All the oddest freshmen, gathered in one place while the others celebrated the fact that they weren't dead. How- quaint.

A few seconds later, the silver-haired boy's eyes fluttered open, as he took a second to process his surroundings.

"H-Huh?" he said, before realizing what had happened. "E-Er, apologies."

"Please prepare yourself for sorting," Riddle said, voice much less snippy than it ordinarily was. "You've managed to wake up just in time."

"T-Thank you," said the silver-haired boy. The quiet sort, it seemed.

"You really ought to get back in line yourself, dearest Riddle!" said Azul, bearing a saccharine grin.

"The same would go for you, I believe," said Jade with a grin even more sickly sweet. Azul groaned.

"Tell Floyd that."

"Yeah, yeah," Floyd said. "I'm gettin' in line."

Azul glared at him. "And I'm sorry," he said, despite the fact that he clearly didn't want to. Azul looked at Riddle expectantly. Riddle merely sighed.

"I wouldn't call this thorough repenting," he said.

"Please remove the collar from my business partner's neck." Business partners? Was that was kids these days callhed their friends? Dire had clearly fallen behind on trends.

Riddle scoffed.

"Have him apologize to me personally first," he said. Floyd rolled his eyes.

"Stop talking' about me like I'm not here."

"I do believe that collar restricts your magic, dearest brother." And all of a sudden, Floyd had become the most positively contrite person to ever grace Twisted Wonderland.

"I'm so, so sorry," he said through sniffles. "I'll never do it again, honest!"

It was only when Floyd conjured a ukelele that Riddle finally backed down, removing the collar.

"T-That's more than enough!" he said. "I do hope you've learned from this."

But Floyd wasn't listening.

"Whoo!" he said, all contriteness gone from sight. Floyd was quite the good actor, thought Dire idly.

"Get back in line quickly, pups," said Divus with the crack of a whip. The students scrambled to fall in line.

Well then, at least the chaotic part of the ceremony was over.

--------

A few hours later, the sorting was over. And frankly, Dire was most interested in the positions of seven particular students.

"The Rosehearts boy was placed in Heartslabyul," Mozus said in the break-room, sipping on a cup of tea.

"No one was shocked by that," said Divus. "The sortings were quite obvious. Bucchi in Savannaclaw, Viper in Scarabia, Ashengrotto and Leech in Octavinelle, and Silver in Diasomnia. And that means-" he turned to Dire. Curses. "I won all the bets. Pay up."

His poor wallet was aching, crying out in pain!

"Fine, fine," said Dire, forced to cruelly rip those precious thaumarks from their home in his wallet. "Here you are."

Mozus sighed.

"This school is known as Night Raven College," he said. "I was under the impression that - despite their mischievousness, ravens are smart. Not foolish enough to start fires before the first day."

Dire merely laughed.

"Well, Mozus," he said. "Do recall the old adage 'What's in a name'? The name of the school won't change the intellect of our students!"

"Yes, yes."

"So tell me," he continued.

"What's in a bird?"

[sweetteainthesummerx]

THE LOVE LASTS SO LONG (5)

In which ollie and aubrey text for the first time

series masterlist

★・・・・★・・・・ ★・・・・★

whitejadetigermovie posted

whitejadetigermovie our stars at the premiere!

WHITE JADE TIGER OUT IN THEATRES NEAR YOU

tagged: dallasliu, aubreyyang

liked by alexandrasaintmleux, walker.scobell and 882,007 others

view all 751 comments

aubreyyang WOO HOO LET GO!!!

dallasliu so proud of everyone who helped make this happen

username1 wow they look so good

dior.n.goodjohn YES MY BABIES YOUVE SLAYED SO HARD

-- aubreyyang ILY DIOR

CNO MEDIA

NEWEST ARTICLES

White Jade Tiger, the newest historical drama premiered January 20th, 2025 at the TCL Chinese Theatre. The event was gorgeous with contemporary art featuring Asian artists. CNO media managed to snag a couple of interviews. View them down below.

Clip: An interviewer smiles at Aubrey, and she greets him with a wave and an excited grin.

I: Hey, it's great to see you!

A: Thanks! It's so nice to see everyone here to support the movie.

I: Speaking of the movie, are you surprised by the success?

A: Honestly, yeah. Very much, actually! Especially with a predominantly Asian cast, not a lot of movies like White Jade Tiger get so much traction. John, our director is an absolute genius. I learned so much from him.

I: Yeah, very true. Crazy Rich Asians was a complete hit. Anyways, congratulations! I just have a few questions for you.

A: Ooh, okay!

I: Alright. What is your favourite Asian snack?

A: Definitely boba. Does that count?

I: Haha, sure. What was your favourite scene to film?

A: Um, I think anything that was in the nature. I love B.C..

I: What was your go to entertainment on set?

A: (laughs, and flushes slightly) I watched a lot of Formula 1 and 2 on set. I got to go to the Monaco Grand Prix like what, four months ago? It was super fun.

I: Would you like to go again?

A: Well, yeah, of course! It's Formula 1, who wouldn't want to go? (smiles and shrugs)

I: Well, if anyone wants to sponsor her...

A: (looks and points at camera) You heard it here! (giggles)

I: Thanks for your time Aubrey, enjoy the night.

A: Thank you! I hope you like the movie. (waves and starts off towards the next press interview)

aubreyyang posted on their story

Caption: White Jade Tiger premiere! Go check it out in theatres near you 🐅

olliebearman replied to story

hey! congrats on the movie 😁

aubreyyang

hi and ty :)

olliebearman

it was really nice meeting you in monaco

aubreyyang

yeah! I had so much fun hopefully I can come to another race soon

olliebearman

let me know if your coming and we can get together w Charles and alex

aubreyyang

for sure ☺️

I need to head off to bed, but see u soon!

olliebearman

goodnight 😴

aubreyyang posted

aubreyyang coming soon...

liked by olliebearman, cnomedia and 662, 173 others

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user1 UAHEHKFN DIRECTOR ERA WHAT WHAT WHAT

dior.n.goodjohn can't wait 🤫

-- aubreyyang hehehe

alexandrasaintmleux text me rn!!

-- aubreyyang yes ma'am!!

-- smoothoperatorrr55 their friendship means everything to me MOTHERSSS

dallasliu working hard or hardly working

-- aubreyyang shouldn't u be on set rn go get that bag

-- user2 theyre so sibling coded

-- daubrey009 NOOO

-- f1girlypop sorry y'all after that vid w ollie theres no way

ACTORS NEW E-MAGAZINE

AUBREY YANG'S DIRECTING DEBUT

Aubrey Yang, Hollywood's sweetheart at age 18, announces her directing debut with short film Pelt, a coming-of-age story discovering the complexities of femininity and identity. Attending New York University as a film and classics student since age 16, the former of her majors is coming to use as this film started off as a finals project.

"It's so crazy," Yang tells us over coffee, "that my school project is being bought out and brought to Hollywood". The young actress turned director "loves acting with [her] whole heart" but working behind the camera certainly has intrigue.

Filming took place over the last five months, only weeks after her movie with up and coming star Dallas Liu premiered. Her success is astounding: she has won more awards before she can legally drink than most people in this industry do in their whole careers. Maybe another award is coming for this young star, only in the creative category.

dior.n.goodjohn posted

dior.n.goodjohn Pelt has been nominated for Best Short Film and Best Screenplay for London Film Week!

I am so honoured to work on my best friend's debut as a director and screen-writer. There are no words to describe seeing someone so passionate for something they do and be recognized for it. This film is our baby, so go watch it, out now on multiple platforms!

tagged: aubreyyang

liked by kimi.antonelli, londonfilmweek and 739,809 others

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aubreyyang when I asked you to play este in the film, I knew you would kill it. The insane vulnerability and dimension you brought to the character and screenplay is the only reason we're being nominated. you have exceeded my expectations for my finals project, and helped me bring my vision to life. London here we come baby ❣️

-- diorrrdear IM GOING TO CRY I JUST WATCHED IT AND ITS SO GUT WRENCHINGLY SAD AND ANGSTY

-- user1 "Hollywood never writes complicated female characters" UR WRONG BC AUBREY YANG IS HOLLYWOOD

dallasliu ate 🍽️

-- dior.n.goodjohn 4 + 4

user2 literally no one cares stop pushing this narrative of being a woman is hard like shut up u don't even deserve the nominations

-- aubrollielovess who?

-- user2 ?

-- aubrollielovess who tf asked u get outta here

olliebearman posted

olliebearman Home race this weekend, feeling like P1 🫡

tagged: scuderiaferrari

liked by kimi.antonelli, aubreyyang and 699,007 others

user1 photo 2 is so slutty he knows what hes doing

-- user2 he turned 20 got a f1 seat and is living the life I too would be a little slutty

scuderiaferrari sliverstone circuit you never disappoint ❤️

smoothoperatorrr55 MY PIPELINE AUBREY IS GOING TO BE IN LONDON

-- user3 stop ur embarrassing urself

kimi.antonelli 💪

user4 hes doing so well for his first year on the grid PROUD OF U BABY BEARMAN

★・・・・★・・・・ ★・・・・★

Taglist: @callsignwidow @honethatty12

© sweetteainthesummerx.tumblr. all rights reserved. unauthorized copying, translation, or claiming of my writing or any works as your own is strictly prohibited.

[tree-obsession]

2.2 SPOILERS!! PROCEED AT YOUR OWN RISK

this is a small lore discussion! mostly speculation and theories- i have not seen leaks about 2.3 plot yet, but i have seen a couple about boothill's character stories, so please keep that in mind!

trigger for mentions of suicide(aventurine) and mega corps(the ipc)

we have to talk about the ending cutscene with aventurine and boothill more! i'll start with my fav parts that no one really has brought up yet:

Aventurine intimidating Boothill after mentioning the guards are out- Boothill sounded so offput and hasty while reassuring him they were just knocked out, and we have to talk about aventurine himself just being intimidating more honestly his glare actually did kind of scare me.

Boothill pointing a gun at aventurine was. well. i'm sorry i did actually laugh at that. boothill i think you should research your targets a bit more honestly that guy is NOT afraid of guns. he fully walked into the nihility and pointed at least one gun at himself, and just got out of his own meticulously-planned suicide. threats of death won't work, sorry. also he has good reason to hate oswaldo schneider as well- threats didn't even have to be used, probably! he would kill him too, probably(revenge arc go go go!!)

the convo between aven and jade was. yeah. why he's betting his life again, i don't know (maybe sarcasm? or it was really just banter?) but it does seem like the two of them aren't super close at all, at least from what little i could gather. also if diamond hurts aventurine the entire fandom will kick his ass, emanator or no, so he better be prepared for that too lol. also, it was a pretty common theory aventurine would leave the ipc after exiting nihility, since acheron presumably broke his ties- i wonder why he went back? perhaps he had no plans as to where to go, or he has some ulterior motive?

how did he get out of nihility so unscathed? (for context, i haven't gotten aven's text messages yet, but i'm aware of some of their contents since they've been floating around w/out spoiler tags. the messages are mentioned a bit here if you wanna avoid spoilering!) i know argenti got him out, but 1) why was argenti there, or where did he even find him? and 2) that seems so random- both argenti and jade confirmed it, but plot-wise what's even the point of argenti pulling him out? also argenti said he was in a "woeful state" when he got out, and apparently the stonehearts are willing to give aven a break (which i'm assuming is major, since stonehearts are super important and have a lot of responsibility, plus he just destroyed a cornerstone) so him already being back on his feet when we see the phone call is a bit weird right away. he doesn't even sound sick, and ratio or any other doctor is nowhere in sight! (message spoilers start here) i'm aware the aventurine cornerstone was fully shattered/destroyed while protecting him from nihility- was he really in there for who-knows-how-long without any protection at all? he's apparently having nightmares and the ipc needed to call in a doctor of chaos to treat him, which is concerning considering his mental health and general will to live were extremely low even before walking into the nihility. like he genuinely has some of the worst will to live i've ever seen in a character or human being- walking through the nihility should have utterly destroyed him mentally and physically, but it didn't. 2.3 HAS to give us a whole lotta context, especially with nihility lore (my favorite aeon, i may be biased) and more about the ipc!

anyway, thank you for reading this poorly formatted, stream-of-consciousness word vomit about 2.2's aventurine lore. hope you liked it! drop ur thoughts in replies and reblogs plz they give me life(although i will be very busy next few weeks, so please don't be offended if you want a reply and don't get it, im so sorry!)

2.2 was peak- a bit slow, but the story was some of the best, if not the best stuff hoyo has given us in terms of writing quality. so great! i cried for sure, and that boss battle was just everything- especially the music. robin my lesbian queen if i didn't have to pull for firefly i would get your lightcone for sure...

see you all next time! thx for sticking around (:

[sleepyconfusedpotato]

Behind The OC Name

Thank you @kaitaiga @alypink @welldonekhushi @revnah1406 for the tag! Let's do this!

OKAY. I'm gonna turn into a bachelor of yappology here so bear with me ☝️🤓

🌹 Charlotte 'Jade' Le Jardin 🌹

Initially, I wanted to name her 'Roxanne'. Some of you might know this, but Jade used to be my original story's main character called Louisa. BUT, Louisa's initial name was Roxanne. I didn't know why, but elementary school me liked Roxanne so much (I didn't even know that it's also a song title by The Police back then HAHAH). I wanted a very recognizable name, but I think it was a bit much, so I switched to Charlotte because of Charlotte Bronte, the writer. Also, it turns out that 'Charlotte' means 'free man', it's pretty cool since Jade's story is mainly about breaking free from MI6's influence and shackles along with her parents. Meanwhile, Le Jardin was the result of Jade's family's occupation as a florist. I mean, it's a fake last name anyway as they were making an entirely new identity after escaping from MI6.

Jade was literally just because she had a green eyes, but I felt it's too cliche so I made an entirely new black division of MI6 where each agent is named of a type of ore/jewel. Plus, Jade is just easy to pronounce and recognizable, perfect for communication purpose!

🐞 Eleanor 'Ladybug' Graham 🐞

Eleanor's name came up just out of the blue from my mind. I drew Lady's design first, and then decided to make a name for her, and it's either Eleanor or Claudia, and I thought Claudia doesn't suit her at all, so I stayed with Eleanor. Eleanor means 'Light-hearted' or 'shining light', kind of goes along with her 'take-it-easy' attitude and how she's a medic and becomes the light of hope for the wounded. The surname Graham is literally just my obsession with Will Graham from Hannibal. My 14-16 year old ahh was obsessed with NBC Hannibal, and Will held a special place in my heart LOL.

When I created Ladybug, I knew I wanted a special and a cheeky callsign for her to pair with Gaz. I never really liked bugs, but I thought back then that a ladybug's shape and pattern is so damn cute and endearingly silly. So I just went with Ladybug. AND THEN, The NFC Championship 2023 game happened between 49ers vs Lions. Brandon Aiyuk caught a pass from Brock Purdy after the ball straight up bounced from Kindle Vildor's helmet, which resulted in a touchdown in the next play. At the interview post game, Aiyuk said "a ladybug landed on my shoe." JUST THEN I KNEW THAT LADYBUG MEANS 'GOOD LUCK'. And then the gears on my brain turned, and I can connect with how Gaz is always unfortunately hanging/falling from an aircraft, be it an airplane or a helicopter. The fact that he's always came out ALIVE after those events just tell me, there's gotta be a ladybug that's always with him 24/7!

🔥 Barandos 'Bara' Tarigan 🔥

For Bara, I just KNOW that his name's gotta be Bara because there's a celebrity chef from Indonesia called Bara Patirajawane, and it's such a sick name that I just had to make it into a name of my OC HAHAH. Bara also means 'fire embers' and it's pretty cool ngl. Tarigan is a Batak tribe surname (I'm half Batak from my name), so I just wanna have that element on my OC.

⏳ Silja Freyrsdottir ⏳

For Silja, I actually had quite a hardtime to name my OC. I didn't know what her appeareance yet, her story yet, and like what her role was in the God of War Ragnarok storyline. So I started to think of what goddess she was, and I wanted it to be close to Heimdall, so the Goddess of Memory and Remembrance it was. I then searched for that kind of god in the Norse mythology, and I didn't really find anyone that came close to what I imagined, so I just started from sratch. I sketched her character, and as I draw her I make up a story in my mind. Oh, she's an adventurer, a rogue princess, hmmm from what realm, Alfheim? Let's do that cuz I love Freyr. I wanted her name to be either 'Silja' which ironically means 'blind', or Ragnhild, which means 'battlecounsel'. QUICKLY I feel that Ragnhild sounded to professional for her adventurous character. Silja sounded so right, and her name could be like a contradiction to what her ability is, which is seeing people's pasts, but blind to the present (a flaw much like Heimdall's).

Tagging YOU 🫵 Reblog this with your OC's name lore!

[cannedpickledpeaches]

Insert Your Name: Side Story 3

Mafia!Jade Leech x Mafia!Reader

Link to series masterlist!

Notes and TW: Third side story is visiting the Leech parents. Do you guys ever forget how to talk in front of beautiful women or is it just me? Anyway, please enjoy!

Tags: @guava-enjoyer @itszzmoon @twstsandturns @myteacupisempty @rou-luxe @chikitasmol @night-shadowblood-writes2 @haveneulalie @owodi @viperwhispered

Visiting the trio at the “land bootcamp,” as you so affectionately called it, became part of your routine after summer school. Your classes ended earlier than theirs, so you had plenty of time to yourself before Floyd was eating asphalt (which he managed to do every single time so far). You didn’t mind. Being alone charged your battery before you’d have to interact with three people at once.

You usually occupied yourself with homework. But recently, you discovered your ability to use magic. Time spent waiting on the twins and Azul became your magic practice sessions. Mages were hard to come by and your family couldn’t give you proper lessons, so much of what you learned was theoretical. Textbooks from public libraries piled up in your room. You had never seen someone levitate a feather or change the colour of a rose, but you were damned if you weren’t going to try.

Your sneakers hung high in the branches of a tree by their tied laces. Throwing them up there was easy. Getting them down would’ve been easy, too, if you decided to scale the tree. But your goal was to practice magic. You pointed a stick at the scuffed soles and concentrated. The textbook said a wand wasn’t strictly necessary without a magestone, but it was helpful for visualizing and directing your focus. Theoretically.

Lift up. Come on. Levitate. Do something. The shoes swayed. You couldn’t tell if your magic was doing anything or if it was just the passing breeze. Frustration was unavoidable, but you were a patient person. It would come with practice. Theoretically.

Just as you put your “wand” down, your sneakers lifted and untangled themselves from the spindly branches around it. Excitement surged in your chest. Did you do that? You weren’t even trying—

Oh, of course you didn’t. You turned to see a woman a little ways down the sidewalk with a slightly raised hand.

Long, blue-green locks of hair swirled and twisted around each other like waves on the sea, cascading to her lap against the backdrop of her seafoam white dress. Eyes like the rising sun eclipsed into a smile. Long lashes framed them like art. You had never known a person this bewitching could be real.

Her willowy fingers flicked down. Your shoes followed suit, settling neatly in the grass by your feet. When her hand returned to her lap, her wheelchair brought her closer. The back of it bloomed with corals surrounding seashells. She was the most beautiful aspects of the ocean brought to life.

“I thought you might need some help.” Even her voice was beautiful, clear like a mountain spring.

“That, um, yeah. Thank you.” You stuttered. Immediately, you looked down at the shoes by your feet, embarrassment turning the tips of your ears red. You just had to go and stutter in front of such an unrealistically beautiful person. Although her kindness was mistaken, you didn’t have the heart to correct her.

“How did your shoes get up there, my dear?”

Now you had to tell her. “I threw them up there.”

“Really? Why is that?”

“I was trying to get them back down,” you said hurriedly. Obviously, you scolded yourself, she could see that. “Um, with magic. I’m trying to practice.”

Her eyes glimmered in interest. “So you’re a mage. How lovely to meet you—there aren’t many of us. What’s your name?”

Us. You weren’t sure if you deserved to be grouped in the same category with this ethereal woman.

You introduced yourself, internally grateful that you didn’t stammer this time. She told you her first name and extended a graceful hand for you to shake. Her skin felt silken in your hand.

“I don’t suppose you have a magic tutor?”

You shook your head. Such a thing was a luxury. Most people learned magic at specialized schools, like Night Raven College. Co-ed and all-girls schools for magic existed as well, but they were all prestigious. You weren’t sure if you’d ever receive an invitation.

“I see. In that case, here is some advice.” The sneakers floated back onto the branches of the tree, swaying once they settled. “Try imagining two points, one on each shoe. For instance, on the tip of the toes. Now, only focus on those two points, and imagine lifting them with your magic.”

At once, a colossal, insurmountable problem was reduced to a tangible one. Instead of a complex shape, you only had to focus on two points. You renewed your efforts. To your own surprise, the tips of the shoes lifted. Just a little bit. Nowhere near enough to clear the branch. Despite that, your earlier frustration cleared like a bad dream.

She continued giving you pointers until the sneakers lifted off the branch. In your excitement at your success, you lost concentration. They bounced onto the grass with dull thuds. Mortification left you as quickly as it came when you heard her quiet laughter and saw her encouraging look.

“I’ll work on it,” you promised, putting your shoes back on. “Thank you very much.”

“Don’t worry about it. I have some time, anyway.” She clicked her tongue. “I’m here to pick up my sons and their friend from their summer classes. My husband should arrive soon as well.”

You traced her line of sight to the bootcamp. If her sons were there, she was probably also merfolk. You wondered if that was the reason behind her otherworldly beauty.

“I’m also waiting for my friends. Three of them are at that school.” If she was surprised you had merfolk friends, she didn’t show it. “They know magic, too, but they’re definitely better at it than I am.”

“Why don’t you ask your friends, then? I’m sure they’d be happy to assist you.”

“I wanted to try doing it on my own.” That’s not entirely the truth. You would’ve taken any tips you could get, but you were certain those three would consider it a favour and charge you accordingly. Jade, even more than Azul, liked to put you in his debt for the smallest things.

She chuckled. “It is a good thing for you to overcome obstacles on your own, but don’t be afraid to ask for help when you need it.”

At that moment, as though she sensed something in the air, she turned and looked down the street. A tall man strode up to her, every step purposeful and confident. Although he was dressed casually, you had seen anyone casually wear such expensive-looking clothes and slicked-back hair. He was handsome, too, but the woman outshone him by leagues. In your opinion, anyway.

He leaned down to place a cup of coffee in the cupholder of her wheelchair and kiss her hair. Such a nonchalant display of affection had you wondering if you should look away. A radiant couple like that wasn’t something you saw outside of television.

“I’m sorry I’m late, my love.” He said the pet name as if it was the most natural thing in the world. “There was quite a line.”

“That’s alright. I had a wonderful time chatting with this young person.” She gestured to you with her graceful hand. You barely managed to squeak out a greeting, not having expected her to bring attention to you at all.

“Pleasure to meet you.” He shook your hand with a firm grasp. “Thank you for keeping my wife company.”

“I had a wonderful time with her indeed,” she said. At the time, you had no idea that her conversations were often riddled with double-meanings and nefarious intentions. There was no way you would’ve known she found a simple conversation with a middle schooler about the basics of magic to be a refreshing topic.

The bell rang from within the bootcamp. In moments, the first people to leave were your familiar group of friends. From this distance, you couldn’t see their expressions, but Floyd used his entire body to express his mood. His arms flung into the air, his cane once again flying off to the side as he ran towards you. He managed to make it halfway there before his face met the asphalt. The woman next to you merely laughed, her wheelchair taking her to meet him halfway. It vaguely occurred to you that it might have been powered by magic, but that wasn’t the main thing on your mind. Rather, it was the fact that they seemed to know each other. Floyd’s next words illuminated what exactly their relationship was.

“Mama! What are you and Pops doing here?”

Mama? You had to take a moment to process this. Did you accidentally meet the twins’ parents?

“We’re here to pick you three up, of course. Did you forget it’s the weekend?” She waved a hand and his body floated before lifting into a standing position, his cane drifting back to his hands. “We couldn’t very well ask you to walk to the beach.”

“Thank you very much for coming all this way,” Azul said, but he was quickly interrupted by Floyd’s much louder voice.

“Right. Didja meet Red Handfish?” Floyd draped himself over his mother’s shoulders, hugging her tightly. “Didn’t think I’d see all of ya standin’ together.”

Mrs. Leech didn’t even hesitate at the nickname. She must’ve been used to using context clues to figure out who he was referring to.

“Yes, we met while waiting for your classes to end.” She glanced at her husband for just a second. Some sort of knowing look was exchanged between them. Then, she smiled at you, somehow more radiant than before. “So you’re ‘Red Handfish.’ My sons talk about you often.”

“They do?” You hoped she didn’t know you extorted Jade on your first meeting. That would surely leave a bad impression.

“Mother,” Jade suddenly interjected, his smile tight on the edges. “I hope you didn’t wait too long for us.”

“Oh, not at all. Your friend here was wonderful company.” She easily brushed off Jade’s attempt at diverting the conversation, still focused on you. “Your stories didn’t do your friend justice. I had such a pleasant time that the minutes flew right by. Why don’t we invite them to the Coral Sea? I would be thrilled to accommodate a few nights’ stay.”

“They wouldn’t be able to survive under the sea.”

“Not an issue at all.” Mr. Leech sported a winsome smile on his face, mirroring his wife. “We have potions that would make it a simple matter to bring you under the waves.”

You weren’t going to lie. Part of you was desperately curious what life was like under the sea. Merfolk communities were very isolated from human ones, and you were always thirsty for more knowledge. But above all, your sense of self-preservation prevailed. Don’t take potions from people you don’t really know would apply anywhere, even the parents of your friends.

“I’ll think about it. Thank you for your offer.”

“Don’t worry about a thing, my dear. You’re welcome anytime.” Not a trace of offence in her eyes. “I’m very happy you’re friends with my sons. Jade, especially, needed someone like you.”

Jade tried to redirect the conversation again, an uncharacteristic fluster in his mannerisms. You didn’t understand her words fully. You didn’t know that Jade, for all his pleasant masks, thought all humans were beneath him. That he was usually one of the toughest beings around in his age group. That the first time he was stumped was by a human his age. She was glad you were challenging his worldview, broadening his perspective bit by bit. As a mother, she was thanking you for opening her son up to change. To this day, she and Mr. Leech are grateful to you for introducing their sons to the idea of human capabilities being on equal footing with those of merfolk, even before they entered Night Raven College.