#give all the characters silly voices or somethin

[poems-of-a-lover]

agh. wanna play silly games with a silly guy.

[pomefioredove]

I have a silly idea: reader comes with Jade, Leona, or whoever else you want when they get their wisdom teeth taken out, so they can drive them home after, you know, but [Jade, Leona, or whoever] has a strong reaction to the anesthetic and is very loopy (and emotional, and honest) afterwards.

I hope you feel better soon!

arguably leona is the funniest one 😭😭 ty for this anon

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ forget it

type of post: fic characters: leona additional info: romantic, reader is gender neutral, reader is not specified to be yuu, reader can drive, I feel like that needs tagging, I didn't write this about jade but he snuck his way in anyway

"Careful. Mind your head. Let's get you into the car- there we go,"

Leona mumbles something nonsensical, holding an icepack to his jaw.

You'd think, with the pain and all, he'd be in an even worse mood than he usually is.

But then, you'd be wrong. He's full of surprises.

He runs his free hand over the armrest of his seat. "Where'd you get this thing, anyway? I thought you were supposed to be poor or 'somethin,"

"It was a gift, actually," ...from Leona himself, which he doesn't seem to remember. Hm.

"Whoever bought it must like you a lot..."

You give him a strange look before you start the car. "I suppose so?"

"Lucky bastard,"

You laugh. Then he laughs, which takes you by surprise. It's not like him to be so... unlike him.

He's very talkative, too.

Leona's been mumbling nonsense to himself since he got out of the dentist's door, but this is actual conversation, now... if a little slurred.

"'s a good thing you're 'doin this. If it was Jack or 'somethin I'd never hear the end of it... you're dependable, 'ya know?"

Laughing gas. The nurse had warned you he might be a little loopy for a short time after the procedure. Euphoric, is the word she actually used.

You can definitely see that now.

Leona is looking at you like you're the prettiest thing he ever saw, his eyelids lowered.

"Do you got a boyfriend or 'somethin?"

The numb, slurred state of his words makes it uneasy to understand him, but with the look he's been giving you, it's not exactly hard to guess.

"No, not presently," you say, trying to keep your eyes on the road. "Why? You gonna ask me out?"

"Yeah. Maybe,"

You roll your eyes. The nurse had also warned you he might experience some mild memory loss.

An effect of the laughing gas, again.

He won't remember this conversation in a few hours. A sense of disappointment hollows out your chest. You ignore it.

"Okay, then. Meet me on Friday. Six PM. I want dinner and a show, your pick," you say, a smile tugging at the corners of your lips.

"Done,"

"And I want flowers. Imported from Sunset Savanna,"

"Can do that,"

"And I expect a kiss at the end. A proper one, not a teen boy one,"

"Pfft. A teen boy one?"

"You know. Eyes open, dumb look on their face, tongue sticking out. You'll have to kiss me like a gentleman, Kingscholar. I really like you. Like-like you. Make it count,"

"Yeah, yeah..."

He mutters, closing his eyes and kicking back against the car seat.

Not all things are so different about him now- he falls asleep just the same. And he snores. All the way back to school.

You nudge him awake and he only growls, though not very menacingly, and lets you help him back to his dorm, your arm under his. Once he's tucked in bed, medication on the bedside table and a checklist in Ruggie's hands, you're done.

Walking back to your own dorm, you feel that same hollow sense of disappointment. And some relief, too. You confessed to your crush, and he won't even remember it!

"Ah, it's you. I was wondering who might be out so late,"

You jump, and spin on your heels towards the source of the noise. Behind you, the owner of the mysterious voice comes out of the shadows.

"Oh. Jade," who else would you expect at this point?

"Good evening," he bows, a little too formally for the sharp-toothed smirk on his face. "Might I inquire what you're doing, out here so late?"

"I had to drive Leona to a dentist thing," you shrug, walking again. Jade follows alongside you.

"Oh? And that went well?"

You chuckle. "Very. Besides the side effects on the anesthesia they put him on,"

That familiar curiosity gleams in Jade's glassy eyes, giving him a predatorial look. It's... unnerving. As usual.

"Oh? I wish you had told me. I've become quite interested in land creature teeth lately... tell me, what anesthesia was used?"

Creepy. But not unusual for Jade. "Some injection, and laughing gas,"

"...Interesting... you were in the car for a long while?"

"Uh..." where's he going with this? "Yeah, I guess. And we had to fill out some paperwork in the lobby before leaving."

"Interesting... very interesting,"

The gleam in his eyes almost becomes hungry, as if he's feeding off of what you're telling him.

Like... he knows something.

You narrow your eyes. "What?"

Jade grins, showing you rows of sharpened teeth. "Oh, nothing..."

You wait for him to go on. He waits for you to ask. You both walk down the long path to your dorm.

"...It's just that the effects of laughing gas wear off no more than ten minutes after the flow has ended. I'd dare to say that Leona was perfectly lucid by the time you got into the car,"

You slow. Then you stop. There's no way...

That... absolutely bastard of a prince.

Jade's grin sharpens.

"It seems as if whatever secret you have so clearly given Leona while you thought he was drugged isn't so secret now... is it?"

[pearlymel]

Hiii!!

Love your work!! If you’re available, could you please write hc’s of Jing Yuan, Natasha, Kafka, Boothill, Jiaoqiu (OOC is fine!!), Sampo, Gallagher, March 7th, and/or Serval with a reader with low blood sugar? Huge self-indulgent comfort ask, but it might resonate with a lot of other people!

My DM’s are open if you ever would like to learn some major symptoms of blood sugar drops. You absolutely do not have to do all of these characters, just giving you some ideas! Have a wonderful day/night!! ☺️💕

Synopsis: headcanons of the hsr character and reader with a low blood sugar.

Includes: Boothill, Jiaoqiu (might be ooc), Jing yuan, Gallagher, and March 7th.

Notes: i didn't add all of them because i usually write up to 5 characters or so (gonna create my rules sometime this week). But thank you for the request, lovey! I had so much fun writing this, i love writing and exploring new things :) i hope it was to your expectations, and sorry if the symptoms were inaccurate (google was my help i was too shy to dm.)

↳ BOOTHILL.

—we all should agree that this man is a caring lover, although i see him as the type to forget that you're not like him. You're not metal and scraps like him, and that you're a human being who needs a lil extra care.

—he doesn't think much of it when you first tell him that you tend to have low blood sugar, he even asks random strangers at bars he goes to about this sickness.

Boothill loves all types of fun to do with you, and tonight, you suggested you both dance.

Seeing the hint of a smile gracing your lips when you try hiding it by pressing your face on shoulder, Boothill grins. And he makes no attempt to hide his delight, he tightens his grip on your frame, holding you carefully but firmly against his chest.

"Well now, ain't I a lucky devil," he drawls, the evident sarcasm was in his tone, "Looks like I'm gettin' the chance to dance with a lovely person who shares my love for tryin' new things. I must be doin' somethin' right."

Silly, you think. "You were simply just you. And i love being with you."

Boothill grins, his eyes softening at the edges as he gazes down at you.

"Well now, ain't that a sweet thing to say," he replies, his voice gruff yet affectionate. "I ain't used to hearin' such sweet talk, to be honest." He pauses for a beat, his grip on you tightening ever so slightly.

"But hearin' it from you, it's nice," he continued before pulling you a bit closer against him.

You laugh along with him, bringing your hand to brush your fingertips along his hair, your other hand over the metallic surface of his chest before you slow your movements, you feel dizzy. No, it's not from how much you both were spinning, you both were going slow and careful.

It doesn't go unnoticed by him with the shift in your demeanor, a subtle change in your movements that indicates something is amiss.

"You okay there, darlin'?" he asks, his brow furrowing as he looks down at you. He can feel something amiss with you physically.

"Lightheaded." You mumble, holding onto him. "You... You have uhm.. anything sweet i can take?" He gives you a nod, "Reach into my pocket, I'm sure there's a candy sitting there," he explains, guiding your hand to his pocket, taking it calmly.

You give him a small smile when you reach for his side pocket to grab the singular wrapped candy.

Your fingers fumbles with the wrapper before you pop it in your mouth, sucking on the strawberry flavoured candy while resting your cheek on his shoulder.

"Doin' a little better there?"

"Yeah, thanks my hero."

"Don't you go gettin' all sweet on me now," he mutters with that of gruffness, though he smiles. "You're the one who's supposed to keep me from goin' all soft."

↳ GALLAGHER.

—Oh he's ready 24/7 whenever the situation calls for it. He takes this very seriously and will make sure no funny jokes were made about it, because they're certainly not funny to him and he will kick ass if anyone makes it harder on you than it should be.

What a sight for sore eyes. Truly. And no, he's not talking about the view, he's glancing back at you where you sat while looking up at the skies, your head titled as if you're so immersed.

"Anything on your mind?" He was the first to speak as he approaches you, "A lot of things.. clouding my head." You half shrug, watching him as he takes a seat next to you with a can of some carbonated drink on his side, and you hear the slight hiss of it when he open it with his finger. The carbonated drink fizzes a little between his finger and thumb as he pops the tab open, taking a small sip from it before turning his attention back to you.

His crimson eyes were on the direction you were trying to look at but he can't find what's so interesting about tonight's sky.

“I'm willing to stay here all night and listen.” He reassures you.

"Mhm," you stare blankly ahead now, almost zoning out, and you don't notice how sweaty you're starting to feel, or how your heart starts racing.

Gallagher's eyes narrow as he notices your almost zombie like look of a thousand yard stare. The way you look unmoving and not even acknowledging him.

He doesn't say anything and just hands you his drink, gently tapping the can on your arm to bring back your attention. You don't hesitate to grab it, taking small fast sips.

"Careful," he helps you straighten your back, drinking while slouching isn't exactly good.

You sigh when you hold the can with both hands now, letting it rest on your lap, "Thank you—"

"When was the last time you ate today?" He gently cuts you off.

"Earlier."

“And can you confirm that ‘earlier’ wasn’t hours ago?” He asked, his voice now firm but he tries to stay calm.

"I'm sleepy." You brush his question off instead, looking at him while blinking slowly as you lean to rest your head on the side of his shoulder. Gallagher watches you, letting out a soft scoff at how you tried to change the subject. He knew he wasn’t going to get an answer from you, but he also wasn’t going to let you just avoid the problem either.

"We're having dinner after your little nap, deal?"

↳ MARCH 7TH.

—March.. panics when she finds out for the first time. She asks you if you were okay, if you wanted anything, even when you try to reassure her that you felt fine at times, she wouldn't be convinced until you stay under her watch. She bugs Dan Heng to tell her all the possible symptoms so she wouldn't panic more than she should.

Today, you were March's model for photography, well you always are her model because she says you're the best fit for it.

She lets you try out fun clothes and you shyly and awkwardly try to pose in front of the camera at first, but then you immediately gain the confidence after a few more clicks. Smiling and posing while trying out all the fun combinations of colours and clothes.

She looked at you, wearing clothes she had picked out for you. You looked absolutely beautiful.

The enthusiastic girl was blushing a lot as she kept taking pictures of you, giggling behind the camera even.

"March, mind if i sit down for a bit?" You hated to stop her from her enthusiasm, but you feel lightheaded almost. And you were sure it's not from the flashes.

March immediately stopped taking photos and set her camera down when you asked.

She placed a gentle hand onto your forehead, seeing if you had a fever first. "Are you feeling sick?"

"No, don't panic. I just feel lightheaded. Do you have anything sweet i can take?"

Okay, she is prepared for this, "You're low on blood sugar, are you?" She asked, concerned. March then grabbed a small candy—a lollipop, to be exact—from the camera case and offered it out to you.

"And you came prepared." You try teasing, and she nodded with a light laugh. It was a nice-looking sweet lemon-flavored lolliop.

"I carry them with me just in case!" She replied, You both sit down together, she takes out another lollipop for herself so you wouldn't feel left out.

"We can take pictures while eating these lollipops."

March nodded in agreement with your idea, she was happy that you even said that, it meant taking pictures together for an hour now wasn't boring you out.

Then, she pulled out her camera again, a grin forming on her face, "That's a good idea! Alright, on the count of three—" she pulls the lollipop out, posing as if kissing the candy while you smile widely as the camera clicks on both of you.

↳ JIAOQIU.

—sooo, he's a healer. Then that means we all can agree that he's the attentive lover, and strictly cares about your health and diet, but i feel like he'd be playful about it at times.

You don't remember sleeping for so long when you woke up rather confused, shuffling around the blankets and sitting up on the bed while rubbing your head.

Your fault for skipping breakfast and going straight into your work or chores for today.

You fail to notice at first the pink haired figure next to you, sitting beside the bed so silently that it makes you gasp when you turn around to see him.

He was holding a spoonful of some red liquid that you're sure is spicy concoction. He looks at you expectantly, a hint of mischief behind his closed eyes.

“Say ahh,” he says quietly, enjoying the moment. But you almost try not to laugh.

"What happened exactly?" You ask him, refusing to still take that.. extremely dark red soup. It was so dark you can almost smell the spice in the air.

"Someone forgot to eat their meal i prepared earlier," he hums, still trying to pry his spoon closer to your lips, "so i had to find myself misfortune in the of finding you almost unconscious. You're lucky i was carrying some sweet herbs with me." And you frown at his next words, you want to apologize for how he must've been worried.

As if sensing your next words, he smiles, "none of that. Now, open up." He offers you the spoonful again but you pull your face away.

"Are you sure you're not trying to kill me next?"

Jiaoqiu pretends to pout. His fox ears prick and he gives you a slight pout, "You're so dramatic," he says, his tail flicking with amusement. He holds up the spoon again, still waiting for you to open your mouth.

"My soup will fix your blood sugar. Trust me, it's a secret recipe," Jiaoqiu says with a sly smirk.

"What if it tastes bad?" You regret the words leaving your mouth, because he opens his eyes and stares at you with an almost hurt expression. You take the spoonful in your mouth without another complaint, and he hums in approval while closing back his eyes.

The flavours almost explode in your mouth, it.. wasn't spicy at all. It was rather sweet and savoury.

"You tricked me, it's not spicy at all."

"I never said it was spicy, though." He tilts his head, feigning innocence and confusion.

Despite his antics, you instantly feel better, although he doesn't allow you to feed yourself, he'll do it for you.

↳ JING YUAN.

—This man would spoil you rotten. You're feeling unwell? He would love to take the day off and just look after you, although there is a doctor on the side in case anything gets serious. You're simply tired not because of your low sugar levels, but just because you were? He would gladly invite you in his arms or simply sit next to you while you both chat nonstop about eachother's days if that's what will make you feel better.

You were panting when you decided to train alone in the training grounds, Yanqing offered to train with you but you insisted that you needed that full concentration.

After a while, you do feel exhausted and worn out. The spear dropping from your hands as you bend a bit to rest your hands on your knees to catch some breath.

"Now, now, if you want to get stronger, you'll also need a break." Jing Yuan's call for you is what makes you huff out a chuckle. In his hands is what looked to be a bowl of fruits with a water bottle on the other.

"i wanted to build some muscle." You tell him when he gives you that look whenever you start training alone. It's not that he's against your wishes of wanting to be stronger for your own good, but he wishes Yanqing was atleast there to watch you.

"And, I'm not a baby." You roll your eyes playfully and he lets out a deep laugh. "Eat up." You take the orange first, but he was quick to take it from your hands to peel it for you, so you take the grape instead.

You as well take the bottle, gulping down almost the whole thing. Water has never tasted this good.

"You're not a baby, but you drool like one." You almost glare at his words and he only grins while wiping the excess water and fruit juice off the corner of your lips with his thumb. "That was mean, General." You raise both of your eyebrows at him, he only pats your head back, pulling you in with his arm to just hold you.

"when the time comes, you'll be strong enough to protect me."

[merakiui]

The Most Dangerous Game [2]

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“And that is?”

“Whatever I feel like.”

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

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

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

“My, my. Someone’s in high spirits.”

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

“It was my pleasure.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hell yeah! Let’s do this!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hey, guys, fancy seeing you here!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oi, Grim! Sit back down!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The three of them exchange wary looks before attempting chuckles.

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

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

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

“Yeah, that’s what I thought.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yours ain’t any better!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Any closer—mere centimeters—and you could…

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“At this rate, he’ll win.”

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

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

He’s right. You hate that he’s right.

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

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

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

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

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

“Y-Yeah, something like that…”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Floyd?”

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

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

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

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

“Tempting, but nah.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Thought ya’d never ask.”

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

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

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

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

“Shrimpy cares a lot about Jade, huh?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Define weird…”

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

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

Floyd shrugs. “Do ya like him?”

“Like is a strong word.”

“So you love him.”

“What? No. We’re just friends.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Says who?”

“Says me.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He gives you a confused look.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Then practice on me.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Promise not to laugh?”

“Promise.”

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

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

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

“Okay…”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He giggles. “Now it’s all gone.”

He kissed me for real this time…

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Um… It’s definitely someone…”

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

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

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

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

“You sure it ain’t Jade?”

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

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

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

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

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

“Well, if it ain’t Jade, who is it?”

“Guess.”

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

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

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

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

“Sounds like a decent guy.”

“He’s so much more than that!”

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

“It’s not Azul, is it?”

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

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

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

“Guess not.”

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

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

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

“I do. More than anything.”

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

“I…” You purse your lips.

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

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

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

“Mhmmm. Don’t mention it.”

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

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

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

“I’m so sure—very sure! Please!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hee-hee. Sorry, Shrimpy.”

Remorseless. You love him.

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

“Oh… Haa—fuck. Thank you.”

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

“Do you… Do you really mean that?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Fuck me. I was so close…”

“Gonna do that in a sec.”

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

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

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

“I… I wanna feel you.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Lemme know if it’s too much.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“All good?”

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

“W-What about you?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I’ll miss his cooking, though.

“Whatcha thinkin’ about, Shrimpy?”

“No one in particul—aah!”

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

“What if I was?”

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

“Not physically, no.”

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

“Maybe. Maybe not.”

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

You giggle. “Will you pay rent?”

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

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

“Yeah?”

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

“Mhm…”

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

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

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

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

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

“Nah. S’just me and Shrimpy today.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“W-What’s wrong?”

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

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

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

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

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

“Is it really that bothersome?”

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

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

“Oh.”

“Yeaaah. Sucks, doesn’t it?”

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

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

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

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

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

A pair…

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

But right now breathing is imperative.

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

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

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

“I’m yours. I’m all yours.”

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

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

“F-Floyd, please—I’m close! I—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Sorry. Let me silence it.”

“Kaaay.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Who is?”

“Ace.”

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

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

“Maybe he likes ya.”

“As if. We’re just friends.”

“Yeah? You say that a lot.”

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

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

“I… Um. Hm.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah… See ya.”

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

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

No, not a what. Rather, a who.

And you can’t bear to confront that.

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

It’s a glorious day.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“A good morning to you, too, (Name).”

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

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

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

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

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

“It was an enjoyable month.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hey, it’s Shrimpy! Whatcha up to?”

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

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

“Yeah, same here!”

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

“Right! Yes!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“W-What?”

You…misheard him, right? He didn���t just say that, did he?

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

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

“C’mon, Shrimpy. I’m not stupid.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“(Name)?”

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

“I do hope I’m not intruding.”

“You are. Go away.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Surely you don’t mean that.”

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

“Quite the series of unfortunate events, no?”

“So please just go away.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

I’m a mer…

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

“I’m a mer! How cool is that?!”

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

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

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

It hurts.

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

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

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

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

And it really hurts.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The fish scatter.

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

“You’re living up to your surname.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“More miserable than a broken heart?”

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

“Depends. Will you recover from death?”

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

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

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

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

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

“Your what?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“How would you know?”

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

Oh… So he does know what that feels like.

“I’m sorry.”

“Whatever for?”

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

“All the more reason to appreciate her.”

“Why haven’t you given up?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Noctiluca… What’s that?”

“Bioluminescent algae.”

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

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

“You’re really going to stick around?”

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

“You sure you’re not that predator?”

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

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

“It’s simply a hypothetical.”

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

“Do we?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He nods.

“On purpose?”

“Just for fun.”

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

Now you’re really viewing him in scarlet.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Don’t play dumb.”

“Then don’t ask dumb questions.”

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

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

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

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

“How many times has it been now?”

“Shut up.”

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

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

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

“I can be dirtier if it pleases.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Is that so?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Perhaps you’ll never have to choose.”

“What do you mean?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’ll always be here for you.”

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

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

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

“Must it be transactional?”

“What else would it be?”

“A friendly favor.”

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

“And I will rescue you.”

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

He just won’t quit, will he?

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

“What indeed?”

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

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

He’s so annoying.

“Then what, Jade? Stop being obtuse.”

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

“That’s all?”

He nods. “That’s all.”

“I find that hard to believe.”

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

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

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

“Like?”

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

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

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

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

“It’s amazing…” you whisper.

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

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

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

And Jade’s with you.

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

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

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

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

“No. I’m serious. You’re glowing!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What was?”

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

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

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

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

“If you’ll have me.”

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

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

You giggle. “Seems pretty treacherous, too.”

“To think biological imperative would be my undoing…”

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

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

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

“Charming, is it not?”

“Very.”

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

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

“After this—”

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

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

“Is everything all right?”

“What will we be after this?”

“What would you like to be?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hmm? Jealous you’re not first?”

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

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

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

“Yeah, yeah. Gloat all you want.”

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

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

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

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

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

You shouldn’t, but you do.

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

“Then allow me to return the favor.”

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

“Now we’re a rightful match.”

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

“Would you like an experiential lesson?”

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

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

“Coitus isn’t doing it for you?”

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

“‘Make love’ sounds a little…”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Truly. Would I lie about that?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

In reply, he simply smiles.

“You look so creepy!”

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

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

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

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

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

“Plenty. That I can assure you.”

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

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

“How badly?”

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

“Then you won’t receive it.”

“Please? What happened to friendly favors?”

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

You mumble a desultory reply.

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

“I want it more than anything.”

“More than what?”

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

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

“You’re so mean! I won’t say it!”

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

I’m going to kill him.

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

“Oh, very much so.”

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

“Asshole eel.”

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

Comprehending the message, you gape right back.

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

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

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

A dream…

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m flattered.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Because I love—”

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

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

Plenty of times, in fact.

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

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

“I… I’ve always kinda known, Jade.”

“Have you now?”

“You weren’t very covert with it.”

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

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

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

“I see…”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I do. I hear you.”

“Thank you.”

I should be thanking you, dummy.

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

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

It’s perfect—a puzzle finally pieced together.

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

Next time I’ll ask.

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

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

“Mm.”

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

“Mm.”

“Huh…”

“Mm.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“He’ll live.”

“I’ll be indebted to him.”

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

“You’re seriously the worst!”

“You don’t mean that.”

He’s right; you don’t.

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

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

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

After all, nothing’s changed.

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

“What?”

“Nothing,” he says with another snuffle.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Nice try. Like I’d fall for that.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You get enough sleep?”

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

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

“H-Hey! What was that for?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m serious!”

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

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

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

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

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

“Okay… Cool. Thanks for the input?”

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

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

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

Nothing has changed between you and him.

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

“As a peach.”

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

“And for what contingency must I plan?”

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

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

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

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

“You’re not even romantically involved.”

“Not by human standards.”

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

“As are twins.”

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

“Moray eel intuition.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Aren’t we just?”

[miintsprigz]

Hi again!! Was wonderin if ya could do some hcs of Scout, Pyro, Sniper, Engi, and Medic with a reader who loves to give and show them drawings they made, but gets pretty nervous when they watch them draw? If this isn't exactly yer cuppa tea or you just genuinely do not know how to write this, feel free to just ignore this request:]

Hope you have an excellent day/night/evening/afternoon/noon!!>:DD

Ah, I think I recognize you there! Good to hear from you again. I’ll give it a shot!

GN! Shy Artist Reader x Mercs

Characters: Scout, Pyro, Sniper, Engineer, Medic (TF2)

Warnings: None

Scout ⚾️

• The two of you tend to draw while you hang out, just chatting in the meantime.

• He absolutely adored your work, and loved watching you make it.

• But when you pulled your sketchbook to your chest quick, he seemed confused.

• “Hey! You good?” “Yeah, I uh…I just feel weird when you’re watching me draw.” “Huh? You don’t gotta feel embarrassed, doll!”

• “…You know when you tried to pull off a jump while Spy and Demo were watching the other day…” At this reminder, Scout gave you a teasing scowl—not genuinely mad, just embarrassed remembering that.

• “Ah geez—yeah, if they hadn’t spooked me by starin’ at me like a buncha creeps—oh.” “You get it now?”

• He got…a little confused. “Am I makin’ it worse? Aw man, I’m sorry—” “No, no! I just—that awkwardness? Yeah.” “Ohhh, I think I gotcha…”

•Scout, uh, scooted over on the bed a little and eventually sat back down with his back against yours. “There. This’ll fix it!” Both of you erupted into laughter.

•In all seriousness though, he respected your wishes. He keeps everything you make for him in his room, aside from a small doodle or two that he carries on him to work at all times…awww.

Pyro 🔥

•You and Pyro lay sprawled on the floor, with a can of colored pencils and a box of crayons respectively.

•They’re actually quite good when it comes to color, pairing different hues together. It’s hard to tell exactly what they’re drawing, but sometimes you can faintly make it out.

•You suddenly felt eyes very intently locked onto you and jerked your head up.

• “Hm??”, came through the mask, muffled. “Uh…could you um…”

•They did that curious little head tilt, tenderly reaching for your hand. If you needed to tell them something, they wanted to make sure they heard it!

• “I feel nervous when you watch me draw. I know it’s silly, but—” “Ah!” Genuine surprise from the masked figure. They’d had no idea.

•Immediately, there were muffled apologies from under the mask, quickly hugging you. “Hey hey, it’s okay! I’m not mad. I just figured I should tell you. You’re okay, Py.”

• “Mmph?” “Yes, dear. I promise.” Giggling a little now, they pulled their free hand over the eyeholes of the mask like a visor, blocking you from view. You chuckled along with them.

•Later on, as the two of you shared drawings, you made out a familiar visage—that of you, with a couple bright red hearts drawn nearby. “Hehe, I love you too.”

Sniper 🏹

• Mick didn’t often watch you draw, honestly. The two of you tended to do your own thing in the same space, talking occasionally. Even that was enough.

• Once you caught him watching on what was kind of an off day though. You kind of just stared back up at him.

• Sniper cocked an eyebrow. “Why’d ya stop?” Biting the inside of your cheek, you looked off to the side.

• You felt the bed next to you sink down a little as he moved closer. “Hey. Ya got somethin’ ya wanna say?” His voice was softer, more cautious. “…cuz ya know, I’d like to hear that.”

• Shuffling a bit to get more comfortable next to him, you sighed. “I don’t know how to explain it, but…I feel weird when people watch me draw.” “Yeah?”

• You nodded. “Kinda see what ya mean, I guess. Ya think they’ll judge the work-in-progress?” You silently agreed.

• A slight smile brightened his features. “Well, dunno if it helps, but I know a lil better, love.” His shoulder brushed against yours as you moved a bit closer.

• “I love everythin’ you make. And I know that you know what yer doin. But…if you’re more comfortable with me not lookin’, I get that too. That’s fine.”

• He went to move away, but you quickly clasped his shoulder softly, indicating that he could stay. “Maybe, I could try to keep going?” A laugh broke through as you admitted, “Besides, I like sitting next to you.”

• Humming contently, the Aussie planted the briefest of kisses on the top of your head. “Arright, darlin. You just lemme know.”

• As you kept working on that page, you did notice when he was watching, and it wasn’t easy, but after that he would have periods of staring off into space instead.

• There was a conciseness to it. He’d taken what you’d said to heart. Still, though, he seemed happy…and you were, too.

Engineer 🔧

• Dell had gathered quite a collection of your art by now, kept it on the wall of his workshop. He showed it off proudly to anyone who happened to enter, even if visitors tended to be few and far between.

• One night, you kept him company as he worked overtime on a new design for a model. While he worked, you did too.

• After a while though, you could tell someone was looking at you. As your gaze lifted, you caught him sneaking a peek from his desk, right next to the table where you sat.

• “Aw, did I break yer focus there? Sorry, honey.” “No no, it’s okay, Engie…I could put it away for now anyway, if you want something—”

• “No problem, (Y/N)! You can keep right on with that if ya like.” A somewhat sheepish smile came to your face.

“Hey, Engie…can you keep a secret?”

• “Mmm?” “…I get sorta nervous when people watch me draw.” A knowing sort of smile slowly crossed the Texan’s face, sliding his goggles up to rest on his forehead for a moment.

• “You wanna know a secret?”

“Hmm?”

A nostalgic sort of thoughtfulness crept into his voice. “I used ta be the same way.”

• “Really?” You never pictured the mellow, easygoing Engineer to ever be self-conscious in that way.

“Yup.”

• “People would ask me all sorts a’ questions while they watched me build. ‘How ya gonna make that work?’ ‘What’s that do?’ ‘Why’d ya put that there?’ Drove me crazy. Part of the reason I got a shop, I s’pose.”

• He held a spare nut and bolt, twisting them together and apart as he talked, somewhat absentmindedly. Eyes wandering a bit, but always making their way back to you.

• “But here’s somethin’ I think you oughta hear, although I’d never try ta make ya change. Your work is yours, darlin’. Yours and yours alone. Ya make such beautiful things. I’m not askin’ myself what you’re doin’ when I watch, cuz I already know.”

• He put the fidget aside and reached for your hand with a sweet smile. “Why do you like to watch me work?”

• You could feel your face redden just a bit, and grinned at the floor for a moment. He chuckled at this, in a lighthearted way though. “Cuz it’s really cool how you make everything work, and how smart you are with your designs.”

• “Yep. That’s why I like watchin’ you work. Own the process, (Y/N). It’s all yours. You know exactly what you’re doin.”

• “Thanks, Dell.” “Of course, honey. Of course.” From that moment onward, it seemed like he tried not to watch for too long, but when he did, you remembered his words. And it didn’t feel quite as nerve-wracking then.

Medic 💉

• Medic absolutely loved to watch you draw. It was fascinating to him. Seeing how giddy he got, it took you a while to work up the guts to tell him.

• “Is something wrong, Liebe? You’ve been stopped for a while now.”

“Yeah, uh…Medic, I wanna tell you something, but it’s weird.”

“Oh?”

• “I uh…I feel kinda…nervous, I guess? When people watch me draw.”

“…might I ask why?” He seems genuinely perplexed by this. “I think it’s fascinating.”

• Yeah, yeah he would. You weren’t sure how to explain this to him—you knew for sure that he didn’t mind when people watched him at work, he operated on fully conscious people!

• You sighed softly, unsure of how to make this make sense to him. A hand rested on your shoulder for a moment. “(Y/N), I can see this means a lot to you. And as much as I love watching you at work…I love you even more. So I’ll stop doing that.”

A smile crept up on you, glancing back up at him.

“I appreciate it a lot, love. Sorry I can’t put it into words.”

“No need to be sorry! But…I do have one request.”

“Yeah?”

• A sheepish sort of smile came to the doctor’s face. “I can…still see the finished product, right? And maybe, instead of me watching, you could tell me how you put everything together?”

“Of course! No problem.”

“Ah, wunderbar!”

I’ve been very tired lately so I’m sorry this took me so long, and that it’s sorta short/repetitive. I appreciate your patience!

[acidiccherry]

A little fic that I wrote today.

I don't even know how to write a new post here, I was absent for a SHAMEFUL amount of time.

My current goal is to put myself into creating field again, and in order for doing so I've decided to take baby steps in that direction. I'm gonna be honest - I'm scared to take a tablet pen in my hands again, so to give myself a little push in the back, I thought "why not write a little fanfic?"

And here it is :D

Recently I've started a new playthrough of Fallout: New Vegas (ughhh my beloved) and, of course, I can't resist all the headcanons that overtake me when my character and a certain beret-wearing grumpy award-winning sniper cross their paths.

My Courier is 1) a girl 2) short-tempered 3) sharp tongue, "say now - think later" 4) blonde middle length hair tied in a ponytail, if that matters

It's more of a sketch than a fic, but nonetheless, I hope you enjoy it.

***

Amy was sitting on a windowsill, resting her back against hard jamb, letting out a big tired sigh. Compared to what she and her friends has been through today, it felt as comfortable as a cloud. Boone took a sit next to her, by the table.

They would often share such moments at evenings, returning after day's mission. Even when the crew was full, these two always found time and place to share their thoughts in private.

She was looking into the distance, at the mesmerizing dance of city lights, enjoying the moment of peace. The thought of how beautiful she was in that moment did not miss the sniper's mind.

Although, the conversation was getting a bit heated.

"…You speak of it as of somethin' small. Death is not a joking matter, we both know it well." Boone started to get irritated by Amy's words, his tone sharpening.

"Yeah, you're right." - She went quiet for a moment, turning her head to look outside the window at Strip's nightlife. "Still, if I ever die, in that moment I'd like to rather have a smile on my face than not."

"…What do you mean 'IF'?"

She made something of a semi-dramatic pause and took a brief glance at him.

"Well, I never died before. Might as well never happen."

She caught him off guard there. He couldn't help himself but chuckle at that silly point. Six has always managed to find a way to melt his ice.

"…but getting lead in a skull and surviving after - c'mon, that's endless joke material! At least you can let that one slide, can’t you? Just a little bit?"

"As if I didn't hear you making fun of that million times already", he said with a tired voice, almost smirking.

She smiled back and didn't quite notice that her eyes lingered on the man for just one bit too long.

But he for sure did.

[xyaehir]

how sweet ! —

SYP — silly shenanigans 😸

GEN. — fluff, crack

WARN. — f!reader, not proofread or edited.

REQ. — “hi pretty!! can i request a drabble with nagi, camilo and other characters playing roblox together? it can be any game just roblox in general! love you <33”

NOTES. — omg!! xyae being active???!!! also cha eunwoo the man that u are😕 i literally dont write for encanto anymore but 🤡

“babe.”

you freeze for a moment and gulp before slowly moving your arm to peel back the duvet from your body. you hear shuffles before a hand grips your arm firmly but gently.

“just where do you think you’re going, hm?” he huffs, voice raspy and deep before his arms wrap around your waist and pull you back to his side.

you curse under your breath and give in, deciding that this is the only logical decision compared to the ones you’ve made in the past. you’ve learnt from past mistakes.

you see, your boyfriend would rather let the world burn under his touch than have you slip from his arms before he awakens from his slumber, especially in the morning. (he’s more prone to grouchiness and a bad mood throughout the day without his morning cuddles but he argues that it’s just too early to wake up.)

“i was just getting up to get some water. i was g’na come right back, honest!” you nod your head and muster your best convincing smile as he watches you lie straight through your teeth.

he looks at you, unamused eyes drooping after every second.

“could you lie a little bit better? theres a full glass of water near your nightstand,” he yawns, lying down on your chest and using you as a pillow. you curse softly again and he chuckles quietly, his shoulders shaking.

he nuzzles into you and tightens his grip on you. “you’re not going anywhere, stop trying.”

you sigh. you’re definitely aware with the amount of times you’ve attempted to escape the warm confines of his bed and arms. it’s always resulted in you getting dragged back and plopped on the bed.

still, it’s charming and flattering how willing he is to spend time with you by his side in the mornings, despite it ruining your motivation to be more productive in the early hours of the day.

“15 minutes and we have to get up,” you hum, playing with his hair.

“noo,” he whines. “at least an hour..”

you sputter a little, “an hour? we have to eat something soon.”

he huffs, leaning into your fingers as they gently card through his hair. “just order off of doordash or somethin’,” he trails off, dropping all his weight on you before falling back asleep.

you can feel your eye twitch.

“OH MY GOD, NO!” you scream, leaning back on your chair and almost falling over. you toss your phone on the loveseat nearby and scramble to hug your legs together.

he lets out a few chuckles before full on laughing. “’s not even scary, why are you screaming?” he puts his phone down, looking at you with a boyish grin.

“no! im not touching that game,” you sulk, still trembling from the (not-so) terrifying jumpscare you were a victim to.

“baby,” he purses his lips together to suppress his laughter. “its a block game! you can’t be seriously scared of it, right?”

you look at him in disbelief and scoff, “beat the game yourself then!”

he shrugs, flashing you a smug smirk. “let’s make a deal. if i don’t flinch throughout every level of this game, you have to pay for the takeout.” (you both know its a lie, this man will die before he lets you use your money to pay.)

you huff, “sure. but if you do, i get to pick the movie.”

“deal, i’m not ‘bouta watch ‘Tinkerbell and the pirate fairy’ again,” he shudders, picking his phone back up and progressing through the level.

“its a good movie!” you argue.

“mhm, sure. but when i win, we’re rewatching gossip g-AH!” he yelps out a girlish scream, scrambling off of the couch and dropping his phone without hesitation.

your shoulders shake from the cackle you let out before the uncontrollable giggles follow after.

you wipe tears gathering on your lashline, “wow, real brave, babe.”

he crosses his arms, face turning red as he juts his bottom lip out a little. “whatever, it just caught me offguard!” he tries to justify, looking away from your smiling face.

“it’s okay, baby. its totally normal to scream even louder than your girlfriend when you play a horror game in a block g-”

“SO TINKERBELL RIGHT?” he suggests loudly, trying to change the subject.

you giggle and he groans. (yea, you’re definitely not letting this go.)

@xyaehir 2024. This is my content, inspired or not. Do not translate, copy or plagiarise my works in any way. Reblogs and likes are greatly appreciated. <3

#1

— (bllk) NAGI, sae, REO, rin (genshin) KAEYA, CHILDE, ITTO, diluc, wriothesely, alhaitham (star rail) sampo, JING YUAN (haikyuu) SUNA, tsuki, KUROO (KNY) tengen, giyu, sanemi (assclass) KARMA, gakushu (jjk) GOJO, geto, megumi () YOUR FAVES

#2

— (bllk) REO, isagi, bachira (genshin) CHILDE, ITTO, KAVEH (star rail) sampo (haikyuu) SUNA, OIKAWA, ATSUMU (KNY) TENGEN (jjk) GOJO, yuji (ENCANTO) CAMILO () YOUR FAVES

[pandoa]

it's the little things

~the little things they do for you~

~feat. jamil viper, kalim al-asim, epel felmier, rook hunt, and vil schoenheit~ ~twisted wonderland characters x gender neutral reader~

~headcanons~ part 1│part 2│part 3

it's been some time since we had a non-event post, so here we go~ first time writing hcs! i promise to go back to the event rqs i just got distracted with this heh

jamil viper lets you stay and watch him dance as he practices his mesmerizingly enchanting movements. he’s typically not very open to allow someone to gaze at him so earnestly as he was never one to bask in attention. however, there was something in the way your eyes twinkled at the sight of him that persuaded the scarabia vice housewarden to ignore all the usual habits he harbored, if only for you. but be careful. just as the snakes entrance their prey, jamil is equally as capable in spellbinding your heart to his with a swift twirl of his lithe figure.

"Oh... you wish to see me dance? I will not object to it, but please do not expect much from me. I am quite boring, after all."

"No no, straighten your back, raise your head, and keep your hands resting on my shoulders. When dancing, it is important to have complete faith that your partner will always be there to support you."

"Focus here, Prefect. You’re looking quite dazed at the moment."

"Hm? You can't? And why might that be?"

"Your cheeks have turned red… Could it be that you are embarrassed to be this close to me?"

"Ahem, n-never mind that. Please forget that I had said anything. It must have been my imagination... I shouldn't be so hopeful..."

"Hm? Ah, no it's nothing. Just mumbling to myself, that's all."

kalim al-asim gifts you small things that remind him of you. most of the time, kalim is either just simply strolling down the sunlit pathways of nrc or browsing in the endless wonders of sam’s mystery shop. he finds the most tiniest and random items in the most unexpected places—claiming to have somehow seen you in them. but not without jamil sending him a questionable and deadpan stare. he’d find anything to be just like you, really. he views the whole world in rose-tinted glasses, but could you blame him? you were so precious in his eyes!

“(Y/n), look! This tiny button is just like you!”

“Hm? Why you ask? Oh, that’s easy!”

“It’s cute, fun to look at, and matches your eyes, haha!”

“Oh my Seven— (Y/n), look here, look here!”

“It’s a cuddly bear stuffie, hehehe~ C’mon! Take it back to Ramshackle!”

“I’m giving it to you because I love you, silly!”

epel felmier gives you hand-carved apples of your favorite things whenever he is sure that he will see you that day. you mentioned your favorite animal during your lunch break? he's already carved a perfectly cut apple in the shape of it! you say you like a particular flower growing in the botanical gardens of nrc? epel had immediately taken an apple and carefully attempted to carve it right after vil's incessant voice lessons! he says he only does it to make use of the endless amounts of apples his family send him, but surely you can see past this small, charming lie, hm?

"(Y/n)! Thank the Seven I found you!"

"I had some extra apples laying around in my dorm, so I decided to carve some for you. What do you think?"

"Ah— and b'fore yer say somethin', carvin' apples ain't supposed 'ta be cute!"

"O-oh...you weren't going to say that? Well, um, thank you then, heh heh."

"You actually like them? Really? Then, I'll make sure to carve more for you if you like them so much!"

rook hunt kisses every dimple, scar, mole, beauty mark, freckle, and stray mark on your resplendent body. he thinks they're like little stars and galaxies on your delicate form; how could he not shower them in adoring pecks of his love? it's become a daily routine for him at this point. holding you in his welcoming embrace as he brushes your marks with butterfly-like caresses, that is.

“Every single blemish on your flawless skin holds an untold story I wish to know, mon amour.”

“I cannot even begin to tell you how captivated I am by you. You’ve charmed me, and now I am pitifully here standing in front of you, memorizing the lovely constellation known as you.”

“I’ll adore each and every crevice of your mind, soul, and body.”

“If only you’ll allow me to…”

vil schoenheit leaves you neatly written notes in every corner of the room before he goes on about his busy day. the daily life of a celebrity is certainly no easy feat, but he still wished to make sure you were well cared for while he was away. so, spreading little reminders on how to take care of yourself and placing them across the bedroom and dorm walls wouldn’t hurt anyone, yes?

“Prefect,” an elegantly dashing note written on a violet slip of paper called out to you from the bedside table. "The weather today will be rather chilly. I have left one of my sweaters here on the table for you. Do not ruin it."

And another one taped to the bathroom mirror.

“Remember to use the new facial cream I have recommended to you. It is applied twice a day; once in the morning, and once at night.” 

The hallway walls...

"I've framed the photograph we took together yesterday, as per your request. I do hope it is to your liking."

Kitchen...

"There are perfectly balanced meals in the refrigerator for you. I've made sure that it suits your taste while still maintaining the initial nutritional value of the meal. Please also drink water. I know you greatly struggle with doing so."

And finally, the doorway before you leave.

"I worry for your welfare, (Y/n), so please do follow my advice. I love you. Ah— I mean... You are very important to me.

—from, vil"

a/n: writing dialogue like i'm the writer for an op otome game yes yes

[sublimecatgalaxy]

HOHOHOHOHOHOHHOHOHO

H O H O H O H O

ITS A YA BOY CHAI. COMIN TO YOU LIVE. W ANOTHER REQUEST. LESSGO.

Hey remember that silly goofy little request from the other night?! What if we got like a part two mayhaps or something of the sorts of Elliot + reader at a party, she’s wearin somethin scandalous, besties bangin for the first time, with prompt numbers 4 and 8 I think?? The “I’ve never wanted to fuck someone this bad before” and “why are you such a tease?” Ones?? Or just one of them!! Maybe a lil exhibitionism?? Up to you!! Thanks bae 😩💞

BESTIEEEE THIS IS HOOOOOOOT. This is so slow burn holy shit; no fucking in this but I encourage you to send in a part 3 request lol. Man you always come up with the best stuff ever. I could never fail you on this one. This man, the things I feel for this character is all coming back dude.

TELL ME WHY THIS IS A WHOLE ONESHOT DUDE THIS IS SUPPOSED TO BE A BLURB LMAOOOOOOO!!!! This is possibly one of the best things I've ever written.

READ PART ONE HERE

"So you're telling me I could be at home right now, eating a tub of ice cream, but instead you had to drag me out to a party?" I ask, flashing Elliot a tired look as he holds the door open for me, allowing me to slip under his arm as his hand rests on my back, helping me as I step into the booming party.

"Wanted to see this dress in action." He flirts but his jaw is clenched as his eyes scan the room, already so protective of me as we step into a new setting. He navigates us into the kitchen, quickly pouring himself a glass of the nearest alcohol he finds. Getting on my tip toes, I press a lingering kiss to his cheek as my hand snakes down his waist.

"Calm down, pretty boy. The night's young." I whisper before pushing away from him, sending him a wink over my shoulder as I make my way out into the living room, looking over the large crowd of dancing teens.

"Why are you such a tease?" Elliot's hot on my trail, reaching out to grip onto my waist, the drink in his cup sloshing around as I spin in his grasp. His eyes are darker, darker than I've ever seen them, as his gaze travels down the front of my dress.

"Because you like the chase." I jest with a grin, taking the cup from his hand and taking a sip as he watches my lips wrap around the edge of the cup. His tongue sweeps out to wet his lips as he pulls me tightly to him, forcing my gaze to flicker around us. "Everyone's looking at me." I smirk wolfishly and I make eye contact with a few of the men swaying in the crowd, their girlfriends only inches away from them.

"I know, it's pissing me off." Elliot mumbles, pressing a messy kiss to my temple and he downs the drink in his cup in seconds. "You showed up with me, can't they get the hint?" He scoffs, the twinge in his jaw telling me that he's not messing around, that the looks that the other men are giving me are truly bothering him.

"What hint? I'm not yours." Elliot gives me a testing look, silently arguing with me but I stand my ground. "They'll never believe I'm not taken- not unless you prove it to them." I offer vaguely, watching a glimmer of mischief pass through his gaze as his eyes move back and forth between my eyes and my lips.

"And how do you suggest I do that?" He whispers lowly, his gravely voice rumbling from his chest, the boyish, teasing nature that he typically holds now completely gone.

"Mark your territory." His brows twitch subtly at the arousal lacing my voice as I step towards him, testing his limits and patience in front of everyone.

"I will make you cum so hard right now, right here, if you don't stop talking like that." His threat shocks me to my literal core, thighs clenching around nothing as a shocked laugh leaves me. My whole body is twenty degrees warmer than it was five minutes ago, my eyes now flickering everywhere but his as I shrink bashfully in on myself, not expecting him to say something that vulgar. Not that I'm complaining. "You got a mouth on you."

"Then put it to use." The words leave me faster than I can control them, my lips parting in quiet shock as I look up at him, realizing there's nothing to blame this on. We've only had sips of alcohol, we haven't consumed any sort of aphrodisiac other than each other's presences- if we go further, there's no going back, nothing to blame other than ourselves.

"Are you offering?" He asks, caught of guard too as he clears his throat, brows furrowed as we both realize that this isn't some sort of playful flirting match that we mutually take part in, no, this is much more than that.

"Are you accepting my offer?" There's butterflies in my stomach as he gives me a stuttered nod and I can see the faintest of blushing rising up his neck and past his collared shirt.

"You really want me to fuck you?" He asks, dipping down to brush my nose with his, our lips practically brushing as I suck in a breath. His hand is now on my hip, sliding down my back and to the curve of my ass, holding me tightly to his chest.

"I've never wanted to fuck someone this bad before." My voice is shaky as my head shakes in shock at my own realization, watching his eyes widen and I look up at him through my lashes.

"So you want to fuck me? Not the other way around-"

"Elliot, for the love of god." I take the cup from his hand and place it on the nearest table and I quickly pull him in the direction of the dimly lit, almost empty hallway, an eager Elliot following closely behind me with his hand in mine.

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[belphie-core]

How do you think the Obey me brothers would react if they heard this conversation:

The demon who didn’t do their half of the work in a group project with MC: why did I get a bad grade?! Does the teacher think I’m an idiot?

MC, completely sincere with no hesitation: yes. And so do I.

Summary: The demon brothers react to an exhuasted, overworked MC finally snapping back and saying what's really on their mind.

{Ahhh! I'm so sorry it took so long to get this done. It's my first request and I wanted it to be good. As a note, I did change it a little, so I hope it's still okay and what you wanted! Please tell me if there's anything that needs changing, or if you think it's too OOC (out of character), because a lot of this ended up as HC rambles and I can only hope it's still enjoyable. I added Luke as compensation for the late completion. Feel free to ask more requests!}

CONTENT WARNING(S): mentions of food (Beel's part), angst (in parts), being used (/overworked) by someone, insomnia, (fast scroll warning) non-moving bright colour banners, (tell me if there's anything else you need tagged here, no matter how small or silly you think it is)

It had been a long few weeks in the Devildom- countless exams, endless nights spent cramming useless information into your brain (only to be forgotten for all eternity again in a few weeks), and now, on top of that: you'd been given your group project.

Initially when you were partnered up with your white-haired housemate, you'd expected, or at least hoped, that he would take some responsibility and do his share of the tasks. But unfortunately for you, whether for good reasons or bad, he didn't- leaving you to take up his side of the work as well as your own.

Fast-forward to a few weeks later, and- exams over and group project handed in- you can finally find yourself able to relax and trying to rest your exhausted mind. Only... this is the House of Lamentation, so... good luck with that.

"Heeeeey, MC...!"

You roll your eyes as you immediately recognise the voice, but try to ignore it rather than stressing yourself out even more. Just keep calm, MC, and things will be fine.

"Leave me alone, Mammon. We can talk later."

You hear the demon splutter behind you. "N-no, no, no! This is important!"

He steps forward to be closer to you.

"Look, it's about that stupid project thing- my grades are even worse than last time! I mean, does that teacher think I'm an idiot or somethin'!?"

'Stupid' project...? The, uh... the project you'd just spent weeks working on and had had to work extra, extra hard for because it was a course meant for demons? All for his benefit?

Well, nu-uh! Okay! Nope! That's it- you've had enough.

Spinning on your heel to face the clueless demon, you grit your teeth and glare.

"Yes. And so do I."

Everyone in the hallway immediately freezes.

⋆ The very first thing this man does is smirk

⋆ You know, the Smirk™

⋆ "Well, well, well, MC. Who knew they had such a little savage on their hands?" (He did, of course)

⋆ But the second thing Lucifer does is-- “MAAMOOOOON!”

⋆ Extra catchup classes for a month (to equal the time it took for the group project), then beg for forgiveness apologise to MC immediately, and no, don’t even THINK about using Goldie for the next... millennium

⋆ As soon as he’s finished personally hanging Mammon up from the highest chandelier he can find, Lucifer is immediately making his way back to your room with a handwritten apology note (and if you listen closely, you might actually be able to hear Mammon’s tears through the paper) and a promise that you’ll never have to deal with this again

⋆ “You should’ve told me he was slacking off, MC…”

⋆ Hmm... sometimes, you really are too kind for your own good...

⋆ Still though, it’s not all bad

⋆ Lucifer quietly suggests that the teacher give you extra credit on account of you working so hard (though this unfortunately gets denied), and then he even invites you to spend a relaxing evening in his office for a while as a chance to unwind after all your hard work

⋆ You end having a rather pleasant time with eldest- a wonderful night filled with soft chatter and gentle music from the gramophone as you both sip on a couple glasses of Demonus and enjoy the comforting feeling of simply just being in each other’s company

⋆ (But of course, Lucifer has a but of a soft spot for Mammon {though not that he likes to say it} and so the next day he pulls Mammon up to ask about why he was avoiding the work, and then helps him with whatever he can, before reminding him again that MC is not just simply a human to be used at will- they are extremely special, and should never be made to feel tossed aside)

⋆ "H-hey! Wh-what was that for?"

⋆ He'll have you know he worked extra hard on writing that… that... tiny sentence in the corner!

⋆ ...Whilst you all did the rest.

⋆ At first, Mammon reacts with flat-out denial that he did anything wrong.

⋆ "Whaddya mean, 'it's my fault'? You were supposed to help me!"

⋆ And he'll probably be really touchy about it for a short while.

⋆ But then it'll be followed up with guilt- the dirty shame of knowing that he treated you (his wonderful, his precious human) the same way as others have treated him before, and then even got angry at you for something that wasn't even your fault

⋆ I mean, if we're being honest, Mammon probably didn't mean to lump all of the work onto you- or at least not at first

⋆ It's just that he had so much to do, like doing homework, and cooking dinners, and going on Akuzon and… also going to the casino and… making stupidly-high bets on things and…

⋆ Initially, when he noticed that you were (seemingly) doing just fine by yourself, he just left you to do what you want and gave you the occasional suggestion, letting you take the lead

⋆ But then as time went on, he started to feel more and more guilty for not helping you, so, very quickly, he started to pile up more and more of his project tasks onto you instead of actually facing the problem

⋆ Once he realises exactly how terrible of a project partner he was to you, though and how far he pushed you to save his own ass, he decides he's going to make it up to you… in any way that he can

⋆ Here is where he actually shows his responsible side (and yes, he does have one)

⋆ He'll (willingly!!) ask Lucifer to keep him in line, and also maybe ask Satan to lend him a few study books

⋆ He'll insist that he does his studying alone this time, but if you do intend on accompanying him, he might start asking you light questions about some of the work, wanting to make sure you know that he's trying to learn

⋆ He'll also make sure he apologizes in person (once Lucifer de-strings him from the chandelier) and tries to explain his actions so that you know why he did it

⋆ He'll still feel guilty either way though (I mean, he hurt his beloved human, his treasure, the one he was supposed to protect)

⋆ So this'll either lead to a good ol' Unexpected Cuddle Up & Cry And OH GOD I'M SO SORRY MC™ session or a long period of I Can't Believe I've Done This Don't Come Near Me I Don't Deserve You™

⋆ And yes, he messed up… he messed up big time. But please, MC, go comfort your big silly demon, or at least try to hear him out, because he knows what he's done and he's genuinely sorry- and he's also about to fall to pieces

⋆ g-g-g... get...

⋆ ( ‾́ ◡ ‾́ ) get REKT bíAtch

⋆ Memes the hell out of it

⋆ "LMAO I'm at #HOL right now and I'm pretty sure MC just roasted Mammon alive LOLOLOLOL XD 🤣🤣🤣"

⋆ Originally heard the conversation from his room, but likes to imagine you looked all cool and sassy whilst saying it, like the protagonist in the anime he's currently watching

⋆ +10 Respect

⋆ Finds it funny at first untiiiil he realises what's actually going on and that you were technically being used, even if it wasn't on purpose

⋆ Passive-aggressively suggests taking a "quick visit" to Mammon

⋆ You have to bribe him to stay with an episode of Ruri-Chan and some quiet chill time playing games

⋆ ...That is, unless you fancy having roasted Mammon for dinner...

⋆ But assuming you don't, you'll end up spending some good quality time with Levi as he (awkwardly; trying to disguise it as a casual friendly offer) makes you promise to ask him for help if you ever need it

⋆ After all, most of the time his schoolwork is done at home, so if you ever need a place where you can chill out whilst you learn, he'll be happy (albeit a bit blushy) to let you study with him together

⋆ For the rest of the night, Levi and you end up having a great night filled with laughs and the occasional infodump (though this is mainly on Levi's side) as he takes you through a taster session of some new comedy animes he'd found after you both watched that episode of Ruri-Chan

⋆ He's the king of pulling endless all-nighter anime streams, so he knows how to help you relax and try to catch up on sleep

⋆ As a "one-time" (or so he says) offer, Levi will let you spend the night in his room if you want, tucking you up in his weighted blankets to help you feel comforted, and then curling his tail around you as you drift off to the soft sounds of his controller clicking, the gentle sound of Henry's tank filter bubbling, and the quiet calm of anime music drifting in the background... all helping to lull you down to the wonderful Land of Nod...

⋆ If you decide to go back to your own room, Levi will pause his game for a second (a loving gesture reserved for only the people he cares about most- that currently being you, and a fish 🐟) and, if you're okay with touch, will shakily give you a (somewhat clingy) hug before wishing you goodnight (and stuffing one of his secret stash of enchanted plushies designed to help you sleep- previously used on a recent anime binge that lasted two whole weeks) and then awkwardly walking you down the hall back to your room

⋆ Levi'll likely avoid Mammon come morning, and will maybe even find some small way to get back at him, as well as also constantly bring it up to the white-haired demon in subtle ways out of spite unless someone tells him to stop

⋆ For the most part, though, he's just very protective of his brave, kind Henry and tries to make sure you know how important you really are to him (in his own awkward, weeby, but loveable way)

⋆ ...Still memes the crap out of it though because hell yeah, MC, that was freaking awesome!

⋆ Today we are here to mourn the loss of Sir Mammon, the Avatar of Greed

⋆ To be honest, he follows a sort of similar pattern to Levi in the order that he reacts

⋆ At first, he simply finds it amusing

⋆ Like, he'll smile from the sidelines and let out a small chuckle before patting your shoulder as you walk past

⋆ Invites you back to his room to hear all about this newfound savagery whilst stirring away at some tea, casually, like "Mhm. Mhmm. Tell me more, MC. I'm liking this side of you."

⋆ But you get about five minutes in when Satan suddenly realises how much extra work you've had to carry by yourself the last month

⋆ It was way worse then he had thought...

⋆ Slowly, he feels the little flicker of indignation crackling inside of him starting to grow stronger, feeding itself more and more, getting bigger and bigger the longer you go on talking about all the hard work you were forced to do

⋆ And the way you just… smile and laugh and talk about it so casually doesn't help either at all

⋆ Don't you see what you've had to do, MC? Don't you see how you've been used!? And by his own scummy brother, no less!

⋆ Of course, he doesn't blame you for it. In fact, on the inside, he finds your stubborn perseverance to be quite endearing actually, and it's fascinating to him

⋆ But on the outside, it's… a little different

⋆ It takes you about 4 hours to get him to calm down (which to be honest, when it comes to Satan, is a record speed- all things considering) and stop swearing through the House and trying to wreck Mammon's room out of pure spite

⋆ Oh, don't you worry, MC, this will NOT be happening ever again

⋆ He'll make sure of it

⋆ If Mammon hasn't already apologised, then Satan will be dragging his sorry ass over as soon as he dares even show his face around you

⋆ Satan takes you to the library to relax for the rest of the evening after that and you both share a warm cup of hot chocolate over a cosy fireplace reading session

⋆ And also, like Levi, he makes you promise to come to him if you ever need help on something like this again, also making sure you know just how very important you are to him

⋆ He reassures you that he would never think of you as just something to use or to take advantage of for his own gain, and then you cuddle together and read

⋆ (°▽°;) oh,, oh lord

⋆ Asmo's going to faint

⋆ Someone HELP, man DOWN, man DOWN--

⋆ Proud of you in the "yass gurrll/queen 👑 ("/boi/pal" if you prefer), teeeell hiiim" sense, the "what happened to my sweet innocent bean" sense, the "my baby's finally growing up" sense AND the "well damn that's h ot" sense

⋆ Sidles up to you in the corridor and takes your arm with the biggest shít-eating grin you've ever seen

⋆ Ignores Mammon balling his eyes out behind you (🥺)

⋆ Looks back with this [😃] face and struts down the corridor, linking arms with you

⋆ Similar to Belphie, he's more focused on the fact that you sassed his older brother than the reason why you sassed him

⋆ But don't worry- Asmo may get a little (a lot) distracted, but he's also very attentive

⋆ He's quick to notice if you aren't feeling great or any changes in your mood

⋆ So, Asmo excitedly drags you back to his room to gossip over your unexpected sassing, already (of course) having snapped a picture of you in the moment

⋆ But it's only as he's painting your chipped nails anew, or rubbing cream into your sore hands (almost like you'd been doing an excessive amount of writing/working recently, huh…), or straightening out your outfit of any crumples, that he begins to notice those Little Things™

⋆ Like how your eyelids droop slightly, and your posture slumps a bit in the chair; like how you yawn and cover your mouth with your palm, apologising for your sleepiness but seemingly being unable to shake off the tired haze

⋆ Like how you seem much more content to just sit and listen to his rambling, rather than engaging in it as you usually would

⋆ When your head almost slips off the table for the fourth table, Asmodeus decides something is wrong

⋆ He quickly finishes up whatever he's doing, and insists you lay on the chaise longue (yes, he has one of those, don't fight me on this; you KNOW he has one) whilst he brews up a tea, or coffee (or whatever you like to drink usually; trust me, he'll have one hundred of them already stocked up in the cupboards- he's the king of self-care, after all)

⋆ Asmo will make sure you're nice and relaxed, turning the lighting down a tad so that it doesn't hurt your eyes and offering you a snack, and then he'll ask you what's really been going on in the last month

⋆ Once he knows what's happened… there's no stopping the endless torrent of words practically streaming out of his mouth, for at least an hour

⋆ At first, he devolves into an "Ooh, Mammon So Bad"™ rant (however, if you seem uncomfortable or you've told him in the past not to talk about his elder brother in that way, he'll stop)

⋆ Then he launches himself into a "*Gasp* I Would Never Do That To You, MC"™ rant

⋆ Next up is the obligatory "It's Because I'm So Perfect™" routine

⋆ And he'd probably go on and on for hours if it wasn't for him noticing that it was getting late

⋆ "Oh! Gosh, MC, is that the time? I've kept you here far too long; remember, you need your beauty sleep to stay healthy!~"

⋆ He'll offer for you to sleep in his room (with the completely serious promise of "no funny business"- unless, of course, that's what you want 👀)

⋆ If you accept the offer, he'll guide you over to his bed and (if you're comfortable with touch) cuddle you close, probably humming something quietly under his breath as you close your eyes

⋆ (Plot twist: It's a song *Someone™* used to sing to him in the Celestial Realm)

⋆ He'll find it a little harder to fall asleep that night than usual, wondering if he could've prevented you being overworked and saved you all that stress (for a demon of vanity and lust, he sure does have a few issues with self-confidence and self-love (ﾒ﹏ﾒ)...)

⋆ If you refuse his offer, he'll help you back to your own room and ask if there's anything you need

⋆ He'll make sure you're nice and snug in bed and then leave you to sleep, giving you a tight squeeze-y hug before he leaves

⋆ When you wake up, you'll find a mug of tea or coffee by your bedside, along with a pink-hearts Post-It left with a '💋' in the middle- a handwritten note in the corner telling you to take it easy today

⋆ You chalk up the kiss mark and the glittery white mug (with your name etched into it, no less) to mean it's from Asmo, and then look over to see he's left a small present on the end of your bed for you to open (and it'll be something he knows you like :3, of course)

⋆ Asmo's going to be taking VERY good care of you over the next few days, don't you worry

⋆ Oh, MC, you shouldn't have…

⋆ Doesn't even really register it as an insult

⋆ He just focuses on the fact that you tried to finish the group project without any help

⋆ Thinks you're such a kind soul for helping out one of his brothers

⋆ This man has no filters so he will just blurt out loud (to Mammon): "Why did you let MC do all the hard work? If you needed help, you could've asked."

⋆ He doesn't lay into Mammon like the others, per sé, but he is very Disappointed ™

⋆ And there's a silent consensus amongst everyone, that if you've disappointed Beel, you've disappointed the entire House

⋆ Gingy boi is precious

⋆ Anyway, Beel adoration aside (for a moment), he'll invite you to come along with him to that all-you-can-eat restaurant he was planning on taking you to on the weekend

⋆ He moves it forward to tomorrow instead, and for the rest of the evening, he'll ask you back to his room to just chill for a bit

⋆ You end up having a 'Fanta, Fangol and Chill' session: which is to say that you both sat on the bed together watching a Fangol match (that Belphie had recorded from the sidelines earlier that day- supportive twinsies goooo 💜🧡), with as many snacks as you could possibly ever ask for or want to make you feel better

⋆ Food makes him feel better, so he hopes it can make you feel better too

⋆ If you're still feeling stressed afterwards, he might offer you a gentle massage (trust me, he's really good; Belphie will definitely vouch for that) to help you relax if you want

⋆ Basically, it's comfort and cuddles all round

⋆ Heh. Nice job, MC.

⋆ Honestly? I really wanna say he just Doesn't Give A Shít™ because at first… well, he probably wouldn't

⋆ Maybe a smirk, maybe a snide comment thrown towards his (currently ceiling-bound) older brother in passing, maybe a snicker as he catches your eye afterwards

⋆ He's not really gonna be bothered at first; he just finds it amusing and then brushes it off without thinking too much into why you'd said it

⋆ It's not until late that night, when he's lying awake in bed like he always does, contemplating the mysteries of the universe- whilst his brother snoozes with an old, dog-eared hamburger (specially chewable) plushie that was bought for their birthday a few years back- that he realises something might be wrong

⋆ He looks back on the evening, and with increasing alarm as he begins to notice how ignorant he'd been to your struggles, he realises how strange you were acting before

⋆ He remembered how tired you'd seemed when you got back from RAD that evening- like you hadn't gotten proper sleep in a month- and how you'd excused yourself early from the dinner table to lay down in your room

⋆ He remembered how, conversely, restless you'd seemed- like you'd spent an awful lot of time studying for weeks and now that the projects were over you didn't know what to do with yourself- and how you couldn't sit still in the common room during one of Lucifer's lectures (something about Mammon and overworking- he couldn't give a rat's áss, to be frank, unless it was to laugh at someone)

⋆ He remembered how bitter you'd seemed towards the white-haired demon, avoiding him in the hallway for long enough before you finally snapped from him puppy-trailing after you and told him how you felt in the heat of the moment

⋆ Belphie immediately starts out of bed- something very unusual for the sleepy cow-boy unless it involved Satan's schemes or Beel, and now, of course, you- and paces his way down the corridor

⋆ ((I'm sorry, this is a quick detour from the story bUT--)) He hears music coming from Levi's room on the way and sees that the door is left ajar and quickly peaks inside

⋆ He sees that the purple-haired otaku has fallen asleep at his desk (mhm, too many coffee-fueled all-nighters can do that to you, unfortunately) and decides to tuck a pillow behind his head and lay a blanket over him to make him more comfortable because despite his spontaneous homoc*dal tendencies, Belphie's actually quite sweet (like a Princess' Poison Apple, if you will)

⋆ Belphie then turns to the fourth wall and tells the writer to shut up and get on with story because the readers are getting annoyed

⋆ Anyway, Belphie paces very quickly over to your room and gently knocks on the door to check if you're asleep

⋆ If you are, he'll quietly inch his way in and make that you're all tucked in and cosy and press an apologetic kiss to your forehead for not noticing your exhausted state before, along with a note asking you to come to his room in the morning for a surprise

⋆ If you aren't asleep, he'll ask to come in. If you allow him in, (and depending on whether you're comfortable with touch- as with all of the brothers, he'd ask your permission first), he'll give you an apology hug and snuggle up to you 'till you're nice and warm.

⋆ Don't worry about not being able to fall asleep, though, because as he cards his fingers through your hair and whispers sweet words of love, affection, and occasionally soft apologies into your ears, you'll feel yourself start to get hazy and very soon you'll be asleep as the demon carefully weaves his dream magic through your mind and guides you to rest (steering you away from bad dreams)

⋆ But if you don't give him permission to come in, he'll respect your wishes and stay firmly outside the door- where he'll voice his apologies to you, asking you if there's anything you need or want and if there's any way he can help

⋆ Either way, he plans to make it up to you in the morning by constantly (albeit sleepily) asking you if you're okay and sticking to you like glue

⋆ If Mammon so much as flashes a smile around you, Belphie will (attempt to) drag you away or throw a quick retort at him, making a half-scowling, half-huffing sort of expression the entire way

⋆ Basically, he's not gonna let you out of his sight for a week, and even if he does, he'll "have quick words" with the first person who shows any signs of bothering you (except Beel, of course- the exception is always Beel; Beel would never try to bother you anyway :3)

⋆ (・-・)

⋆ The poor bubba doesn't know what to even say to that

⋆ Mostly because Simeon is covering his ears, but still

⋆ Even if he can't quite hear exactly what was being said, he can still sense two things

⋆ 1) You're upset (or angry, rather) and

⋆ 2) There's a demon in front of you

⋆ So, of course, there's only one explanation…

⋆ "M-Mammon! You wicked monster, you… you nasty demon! What did you do to MC!?"

⋆ *'Angey chihuahua rage mode' has been activated*

⋆ R.I.P. "stupidmammon, Avatar of Greed". He will be dearly missed 💀

⋆ Judging by how red Luke's face is right now, he hasn't stopped ranting for the last two minutes, and-- please take a breath, sweetheart; breathe, Luke-

⋆ Poor Mammon is lost for words. This… this ten year old has just… roasted him on the spot… and he can't even fight back because he can't possibly hurt a child

⋆ ;-;

⋆ But the situation doesn't last for long however, because in a matter of moments, Simeon is hushing Luke and grabbing him up in his arms (not that the younger angel notices this; still too busy yelling all sorts of *celestial* insults at the shocked demon)

⋆ Simeon just gives an apologetic sort of look towards Mammon (though if you look very closely you can see there's a slight smirk, a twitch of his upper lip)

⋆ He doesn't comment on the other brothers spluttering with laughter behind them

⋆ The next day, and for weeks after that, Luke somehow always seems to turn up wherever you are, grabbing your hand so you'll stick close to him

⋆ And trust me, it's impossible to ignore him with those big, cute puppy eyes begging you to stay with him

⋆ It may be slightly irritating after a while, but don't turn him down

⋆ It'd break his heart and his ego, and besides, he's only trying to keep you safe

⋆ Just let him do it, MC; please. Do it for him ಡ ͜ ʖ ಡ

No-one so far. Just ask if you want me to add to you to my taglist, and you'll be notified each time I post a new story/headcanon list (this also goes for character taglists, where, for example, if you ask, I'll add you to a Mammon taglist and you'll only be tagged if the post features Mammon in some way!)

Feel free to ask any more requests you might have, peeps! Anons and asks are open, and you can also just leave your requests/feedback in the comments. Have a simply marvellous day, everyone (人 •͈ᴗ•͈)

-Star/Bunby 🌠🐇

[titan-fodder]

Prima Vista Part IV

[ previous ]

Rating: E (explicit; mdni) Pairing: Mike Zacharias x fem!reader wc: ~ 9.6k

Warning: a big helping of abandonment/daddy issues, lots of feelings, explicit sexual content A/N: y’all are gonna be so soft and then so mad lmao. 

The plan was to go to Mike's house then back to campus. You said you didn't have anything to do at your mom's, that a long phone call would suffice, which is why Mike is confused when you ask him if you can stop by before going back. It's an hour out of the way, but it's not like he has anything better to do, and he'd be lying if he said he wasn't curious about your humble beginnings. 

 The house is in a decent-looking neighborhood, small, nearly identical one-story homes surrounded by cracked sidewalks. He has to be careful not to trip as you make your way to the front porch, pots of dead or dying plants along the edges of it. You shove your key into the lock, twist and open, then motion for Mike to follow. 

 The den is dimly lit, ceiling fan above with only one working bulb. A crime show is playing on the TV but there's no one watching. There is, however, another light pouring from a back room, and as soon as you drop your bag on the couch, a head pokes out from the doorway. 

 "Baby girl!" A shrill voice cries, and Mike sees you grimace. "I thought you weren't coming by!" 

 A woman walks into the den wearing long, cotton shorts and an old tie-dye shirt then pulls you into a hug so tight that it makes you cough. 

 "Mom," you take a deep breath as if to refill your lungs with all the air that was pushed from them. "This is Mike."

 He holds out a hand and smiles, but all your mother does is stare with round eyes and blurt, "Oh, he's a big boy." 

 "My fucking god." You don't yell or whine, just pinch the bridge of your nose and mumble, "Just shake his hand please." 

 "Sorry, I'm sorry, just was not expecting… You didn't tell me how tall he was."

 "'Cause it doesn't matter. Why would I—nevermind," you cut yourself off, face falling flat just like your voice. 

 Mike isn't sure if he should be flattered or offended or embarrassed, so he just ignores the comment entirely and says, "Nice to meet you." 

 You make your escape to the back, dragging Mike with you before shutting your bedroom door and leaning against it. 

 "Mom is a little weird, but you'll always know where you stand with her," you tell him. "Also, sorry about the house. She’s a teacher, so she’s usually pretty beat at the end of the day. Not enough energy to do a lotta cleaning."

 "Didn't even notice," he reassures you. 

 Mike unpacks his bag next to you, and you gather the dirty clothes from both yours and his, balling them up and taking them with you out to the garage to throw into the washing machine. Mike should have done it at his parents', but as you were packing up that morning, his mother got all teary eyed and his dad just kept shaking your tiny hands and telling you to come back, so it just didn’t happen. 

 Back in the living room, your mom is sitting in an old rocking chair, and Mike thinks you'll take a seat on the adjacent couch, but instead you ask, "You need help with anything? Dishes or vacuuming or somethin'?"

 She looks up at you, fly-away hairs sticking out around her temples and forehead and responds, "It'd be nice if you could do the dishes. I just haven't gotten around to it."

 "Can do," you nod and walk into the kitchen, opening the dishwasher and making a displeased noise at the dirty plates and bowls inside. There's room for a few more, but once it's full and running, you just clean what's left in the sink by hand. Mike finds a towel, stands next to you, and holds his hand out for every scrubbed dish, drying it and placing it in the rack to hopefully be put up later. 

 "You hungry?" You ask when you're done and drying your hands. "It's almost one."

 "Uh, yeah. I could eat." 

 Truthfully, he's starving having only had a small breakfast at his parents'. He doesn't want to say that, though, doesn't want you making a big meal for him or apologizing for anything. 

 "Sandwiches okay?" 

 Something in your tone has him on edge. Your voice is too quiet, deflecting downward as if you're forcing each word from your mouth. 

 "Yeah," he nods. "If you get the stuff, I can make 'em." Mostly so that you can relax but also because there's no way he's gonna let you make him a fucking sandwich. 

 You shrug your shoulders, grab bread, lunchmeat, cheese, and condiments, then say, "You can make ours. I'll make mom's."

 He knows he's missing something, but he doesn't know what, and right now he's too afraid to ask. 

 He eats next to you on the couch, you and your mom watching TV as Mike tries to subtly glance around. Mounted shelves are decorated with dusty, mismatched figurines, cracks opening at the corners where the walls meet the roof. The brick fireplace is stacked high with plastic tubs and books, probably from your mother’s classroom, and the carpet has seen better days. 

 Mike isn't judging—not in the least—but he has a feeling he knows why being here puts you in a sour mood. The house feels lived in, cluttered and cozy and worn around the edges, but it's still empty somehow. 

 After the three of you are finished eating, you take the paper plates and dispose of them, then tell your mom that you'll be in your room. She gives you a soft smile that you struggle to return.

 It's a little more you in the bedroom, blue walls covered in old posters and collages, a quilt similar to the one in your dorm folded at the bottom of your bed. Your pillow cases are faded and covered in an old flower design that matches your sheets, and there's a small nightstand next to the headboard that's bare on top with wrinkled papers poking out of the bottom drawer. 

 "It's not much, but if you wanna snoop around like I always do, feel free." 

 Mike doesn't really want to, especially since you already seem so uncomfortable in what should be a safe space for you. The only thing he feels okay investigating is the old bookshelf next to your closet—mostly YA novels, some poetry books, an old set of The Lord of the Rings series, a textbook over rocks and minerals and another over volcanoes. Tucked away in the bottom shelf is a tiny booklet that looks like a photo album, and Mike has to fight the urge to pull it from its place and flip through the plastic pages. Anything to get to know you better. 

 You lay in bed, eyes locked on the ceiling, and Mike doesn't know what to do. There's a very small TV sitting on your dresser, an old DVD player next to it, so he figures he'll save both you and himself from talking by picking out a movie. 

 He fingers through them, not that there's a lot, just skims the spines until he pulls out a copy of Space Jam. You only glance at the screen when the intro starts, and Mike immediately zeroes in on the way your jaw sets and your brows furrow. 

 "I can pick something else," he tells you quietly. 

 You take a deep breath and shake your head. Slowly but surely your features begin to soften. 

 "'S'fine."

 "Are you sure?" 

 "Yeah. My, uh…" You swallow loud enough from Mike to hear, neck bobbing with the motion. "My dad and I used to watch it all the time."

 He doesn't know what to make of it or how to respond. In the months he's known you, Mike has never heard you mention your father a single time, and he's never asked in fear of what your response might be. 

 He moves your quilt to sit on the very edge of the bed, a little too tense as he heavily contemplates ignoring what you'd said and still switching movies. 

 "You can lay down, you know," you mumble. "I'm not gonna bite you."

 "You have before," he tries to act casual, but it comes out too stiffly.

 You laugh through your nose— "Suit yourself—" then get more comfortable on the mattress. 

 Michael Jordan gets pulled into a golf hole and the Loony Toons journey to retrieve his shoes from the real world. Mike is barely paying attention, more focused on the way your breathing evens out until it becomes slow and deep. 

 That's good. You could use a nap. 

 He watches you for a while, the way your eyelashes flutter against your cheeks and your lips part. You're all curled up on yourself, hands tucked under your chin, knees to your stomach, and Mike wants to slip behind you so badly, to pull you to his chest and lay with you until his heartbeat syncs with yours. 

 But first. 

 As carefully as he can, Mike stands from the bed and glides to the bookcase. He lowers himself in front of it, quickly finding what he's looking for and pulls it from the shelf. 

 It's a small little album, full of polaroids and old pictures cut in half. The first page sets the tone for the rest of the booklet, a photo of a very small you outside eating a popsicle next to a man that is most definitely your dad. You've got a similar facial structure as well as his coloring. Not to mention the expression he's wearing is one Mike has seen you make many times before. 

 The next picture is the two of you dressed up for an event. He's in a striped Polo and slacks while you're in a little checkered dress, a rose corsage on your tiny wrist. Some kind of father-daughter dance, Mike guesses. 

 Sitting on his lap at a fair, a chubby little boy a few years older than you standing close with a stuffed snake around his neck. A party where you're posed with an honestly frightening costume character. You in a bright, mesh jersey standing back to back with your dad, arms crossed, looking at the camera with your chins tilted upward. 

 They all look like good memories. The little boy in the fair picture appears several more times, and as he loses his baby fat, Mike sees the resemblance he shares with you and your father. It's too close to be a cousin—your eyes and mouths shaped the same—so he must be your brother. 

 Mike doesn't know how to feel about that because again, you've never uttered a word. As far as he knew, you were an only child, so why…

 He gets lost in the pages, watching you grow and pose mostly next to your dad. Smiles and laughs and silly faces with your tongues sticking out. Your mom is in some, brother in others, and then, you're in a cap and gown, grinning widely next to your dad who's beginning to gray at the temples. His own smile is barely there now, a ghost of what was seen in the previous photos. It's forced, it's sad, and it's the last picture in the book. 

 Mike's chest hurts. He wonders what happened, when exactly you'd lost him. Was it a quick goodbye, or had it been drawn out and painful? Had he been sick for a long time? He'd looked perfectly healthy in all the shots. Maybe a car accident that took both him and your brother…

 He flips to check for one last photo on the back of the page, but it's empty. However, tucked in a tiny, paper pocket is a folded up note that Mike stares at for a few solid minutes, debating the pros and cons of reading it. He knows he's already violated your privacy by looking through the album, and fuck, he's only been in your house for a couple hours at most—how has he already managed to tumble down such a humongous rabbit hole? 

 Your tiny snores reach his ears, and Mike gently pulls the note out, biting his lip as he unfolds it as quietly as possible. It's soft, like it's been read too many times, and the letters scribbled in all caps are beginning to fade, but the words are still legible. 

 It starts with your name, and then it's all apologies—sorry I can't stay, I have to leave, you don't understand how much this hurts me and so on. 

 Mike's eyebrows pull together the further he reads, blood pounding against the walls of his arteries, pulse picking up because he understands now.

 Your father wasn't in any sort of accident; he just left. 

 The letter ends with a gut-wrenching, You'll always be my little girl, and Mike nearly crumples the paper up to throw away. He resists somehow, simply folds it with shaky hands and slips it back into the pocket at the back of the album. 

 He's never been so mad at a stranger in his life. This must be it. This must be why you are—

 "Should've known you'd go straight for the photo album." 

 Your voice makes Mike's body jolt, his face heating as he turns to look at you with wide eyes. 

 "I'm so sorry. I didn't mean—"

 You wave him off and prop yourself up on an elbow. "It's whatever."

 But, it's not. It's this huge part of you that still affects you to this day. Mike is no psychologist, but he has a pretty good feeling this is the main reason you hold everyone at arm's length. 

 "Why didn't you ever tell me?" 

 "What's there to tell?" 

 Sitting up fully, your gaze moves to the screen just in time to see Michael Jordan step off of the spaceship and onto the baseball field. I Believe I Can Fly is playing, and you're gritting your teeth. 

 "It's not anything that comes up in normal conversation anyway. I wasn't just gonna hit you with it outta nowhere. Also," you look back to Mike, eyes still sleepy, lips pulling downward in a frown. "I'm not the only one who hid stuff about my family."

 Mike sighs and quietly tells you, "That's different," as he closes the album and slides it back into the row of books. 

 "Is it, though? Is it really?" 

 "I..." 

 Mike shuts his mouth and actually thinks on it. He wasn't trying to lie to you about his home life or his heritage. He's only half Greek on his mom's side, after all, and he's only been to the country to visit family a couple of times—once when he was a child and once right before college. The culture is a little different over there, but it all seems so natural to him, especially after being raised to speak the language. 

 Honestly, he didn't ever tell you because he didn't think to, but Mike can understand the shock of walking into his childhood home and getting thrown through that loop. It must have been jarring for you. 

 It's a positive aspect of his life, though. It's not something that's damaged him or made him cold toward others. And, he hates describing you in such a way, but it's true.

 At least it makes sense now. 

 "I guess not," he shrugs. He's not about to fight you on it. 

 You stare at him for a while, waking up a bit more as you rub your eyes and stretch. 

 Then, you flop back down on your pillows. 

 "So. Any questions, Zacharias?" 

 He's surprised that you're asking, and though he doesn't want to twist the metaphorical knife in your gut, he still replies honestly: "Too many."

 A long exhale through your nose, and then you're patting the mattress next to you and grumbling, "Fine, I'll do my best, but you gotta come up here."

 "Why? You gonna need to cuddle afterward?" He can't help but tease. 

 "Fuckin' maybe, dude! We're about to get into my god damn trauma so—"

 Mike is up on his feet and flying toward the bed. He isn't about to sabotage the one fucking moment you're opening yourself up. 

 "Alright, what first?" You ask, trying to look bored, but Mike can clearly see that you're nervous. 

 "He left." 

 "Yeah."

 And then he gets the full story. 

 Your dad was pretty perfect during your younger years—a bit of a workaholic but still good. He took you to dances like the one you'd both dressed for in the photograph. You'd spend days at amusement parks where he'd carry you on his shoulders. He coached the basketball team you'd played on as a child.

 "Not saying he played favorites, but I was definitely closer to him than my brother was."

 The brother who developed a drug problem at fourteen, who was always either out with his little addict friends or at home where he would just scream at you and your mom. 

 "He went to rehab a couple times, but it didn't stick." 

 He left home at seventeen and hasn't gotten in touch with you or your parents since. 

 "I keep thinking one day we'll get a call from the police saying they found his wallet on a fucking corpse, but who knows. Maybe he got clean. Maybe he started a family somewhere else. He'd be twenty-five now."

 "Were you ever close with him?"

 You shrug. "We spent a lot of time together when we were really little, but even back then he was kinda a mean kid."

 It very quickly circles back to your father. Mike still doesn't feel like he has all the answers, so he asks through the skin of his lip, "Why'd he leave?"

 At this point, you've got your head in his lap as he sits against the wall. He smooths your hair back from your face every once in a while, something his mom used to do to him when he was very young that always soothed him. 

 He hopes it's having the same effect on you, thinks it might be considering you've had your eyes closed for a while now, humming now and then as you talk. 

 "Honestly, I don't really know. I don't think he and my mom were ever in love. Like, they just kinda settled for each other," you sigh. "They didn't have a lot in common. They had different upbringings. But, they didn't fight or anything—not in front of us. They were good at hiding the hard times from me and my brother. They just didn't… click."

 Mike bites his tongue, wonders if that was hard to watch or if you'd been too naive to notice. 

 Then, there's his second train of thought that's really just the voice in his head screaming, we click, though! You and I work! But he keeps it to himself. This isn't about you and him. 

 "I think maybe dad had, like, a 'stay together for the kids' mentality 'cause as soon as I graduated, he was fuckin' gone. And, I mean gone. We went to a graduation party the next weekend that lasted a few hours—just me and mom—and when we got back his truck wasn't in the driveway and his drawers were empty. He left that note you read on my desk."

 Mike breathes. Just breathes. He tries to make sense of it, how someone could just do that without a real reason. There hadn't been any explanation in the letter, only apologies. 

 "Have you seen him since?" 

 You open your eyes and reply, "Nope," popping the 'p'. "I don't know where he is, and he hasn't reached out. Mom made the drive to my grandma's—his mom—but she said she didn't know where he was either. Pretty sure she was covering for him, though. She was always kind of a bitch. You know, save for the whole paying for my college and all."

 Mike snorts at this, not that there's anything funny about the situation. It's just his first reaction. 

 You ignore it, moving on with an, "Anyway."

 "Anyway," he mimics. 

 "I don't know if you've noticed in the short time you've been here, but my mom is a little… off. Not super good at taking care of herself."

 "Is this why?" 

 "Clever boy," you show a bitter smile. "I didn't really understand since they weren't, like, in love or whatever, but… I think it was the betrayal more than anything. Like, it came outta nowhere, a big ol' slap in the face."

 "Plus, he left you behind," Mike adds, as if you don't already know. 

 Looking up at him, you raise your eyebrows and smirk. "And, now you know about my abandonment issues." The last part comes out in high-pitched, melodic syllables, a little song that would be funny if Mike didn't know it was a coping mechanism. It most definitely is, though. He can tell that you're the type to mask every issue with humor and sarcasm. It's how you've been dealing with him for the last several months. 

 "So, that's my story," you conclude on an exhale. "Now you know all my dirty secrets."

 "For some reason I don't think that's all of them," Mike pets your hair again. "But, probably the important ones."

 "Mm. I guess."

 The rest of the day is really just spent killing time. You cook an easy dinner that you refuse to let Mike help with, then sit in the den with your mom just like you did at lunch. A medical show is playing. Then a reality show. Then a game show. None of you say much of anything, and it's painfully awkward for Mike now that he knows what happened, but he can power through a few days of this if it makes you feel better. 

 Hours pass until you can retreat, and moonlight shines through your bedroom window, not that Mike needs it. He's memorized your body at this point, knows where to touch without even seeing. He makes sure to be gentle, to suckle and blow on your pebbled nipples as you card fingers through his hair and breathe faster and faster. 

 Leaving love bites down your chest and stomach, he sucks on your skin, gently grazing his teeth over every bruise. Mike wants you to see them all the next day—not a staked claim, just something you can't ignore when you look in the mirror, evidence of his feelings in every mark. 

 When you're finally nice and relaxed, he spreads your legs and licks into you, trying not to be too rough with his beard, but a few swipes of it over your clit leave you shaking in his grasp. You whisper his name, the common one that everyone knows him by, but then, rolling off your tongue like a prayer, you call him, "Miche," and he can't help the rumble that rises in his chest. 

 It should be strange. That's the name only his family uses, the one he was born with. He only simplified it so that kids in school wouldn't ask questions or make fun of him, and after that, it just sort of stuck. But, here and now, falling from your lips, it's so soft. So intimate. 

 You whimper when he sucks on your folds, making them swell, making them sensitive. And then, he's pushing his tongue inside of you and humming happily at the taste. His nose is bumping against your clit, and Christ, you even smell good to him—that ripe, tangy aroma that has Mike going a little crazy. He has to make sure he doesn't get too carried away. You can't make very much noise even with the rattling of the air conditioner, but as he slowly slides a finger into your pussy, he hears you moan around the fist you're holding to your mouth. 

 He stretches you just enough to get you ready, then he holds himself over you and pushes into your wet cunt. Your eyes are open, locked with Mike's as your brow raises and your jaw drops. It's erotic, something you've never done with him before. You typically either gaze somewhere other than his face or keep your eyes squeezed shut. 

 Tonight, though, you've been vulnerable and apparently want to stay that way for a little while longer. 

 He bends to catch you in a kiss, lips and tongues moving just as slowly as his hips, and when you reach to tug at Mike's hair, he pants into your mouth. 

 Those words are there again, stuck in his throat but slowly crawling upward until they're just there, pouring from his tongue, "I lo—"

 Until you cut him off with a sharp, "Don't."

 He makes a noise of frustration, wants to protest because he's so deep inside of you, and you're holding onto him like you want him—truly want him, but you mutter once more against his lips, "Don't say it, Miche."

 So, he doesn't. He bottles the confession up and keeps it locked away, hoping like hell that one day you'll let him tell you. 

 After you climax and coat his cock in slick and cream, he gives a few more thrusts and comes inside of you, filling you with himself and wondering why you're so willing to accept him in that way but not in any other. 

 He's hurting again, like he did at his parents' as you walked around like you belonged there. Except it's worse now. 

 If you don't want him to say it, that means you don't want to say it back. 

 He stays with you for a few more minutes before pulling out. You leave to clean up, and while you're gone, Mike sits on the edge of the bed, head in his hands as he tries to get it all out of his system, whispering it out loud to himself: 

 I love you. I love you, I love you.  

 You still let him hold you as you fall asleep, gripping his hand until you can't anymore, and as Mike drifts off behind you, he has one last thought—Just let me.

* There’s only three weeks left of the semester when you head back to campus, and you intend to make the most of every passing day. 

 You pay better attention in class. You study harder in the library to prepare for final exams. You go to a few more Pi Alpha Kappa parties, making sure not to burn yourself out. And, you let Mike fuck your brains out every few days. Sometimes it’s late at night after those parties. Sometimes you're too tired after the nights of drinking and end up just going to bed only to wake up in the morning and have slow, sleepy sex. Sometimes it’s in the middle of the afternoon when you both have breaks between classes.

 Neither of you bring up anything that happened over the break—meeting families, details about your childhoods, how much you learned about one another in general.

 Most importantly, neither of you address that first night at your mom’s, the way Mike had basically worshiped your body, how he’d come so close to uttering the three words you least want to hear. 

 Thinking about it still makes your chest tighten, your heart beat faster. Sometimes when you’re sharing his bed with him, back pressed to his chest, large arm slung over your waist, you think about why it is you’re so vehemently against it. The two of you already act like a couple most of the time. You walk with each other to class when you can. You stick to each other’s sides at parties. You fuck like rabbits and don’t care who knows about it. 

 And, though you’re hesitant to admit it even to yourself, you’d be lying if you said you didn’t have feelings for him. Mike is your best friend at this point. He’s insanely hot. He’s goofy. He’s kind. Yeah, the frat boy persona he puts on around his friends is annoying, but you understand it a little better now. Plus, he always takes off the mask when he’s alone with you, giving both you and himself a break from it.

 You know your time with him is quickly coming to an end—for about two months, at least—and whenever you think too hard about it, it makes you pout and huff. You’re not looking forward to your summer classes without him, but he promises on several occasions that you can call him while he’s at his parents’ if you ever need help with the material.

 It’s impressive, the way he’s able to act like nothing happened. You know it must be troubling him, but it’s not like you can do anything to soothe him. If he was really upset with you, he would have stopped spending time with you, but he hasn’t. He just bottles it up, keeps smiling at you all crookedly, and keeps satisfying you in the bedroom (more than satisfying honestly. There’s really not a word to describe what he does).

 He’s back to getting along with everyone in the Pike house, everyone being Erwin. It’s a relief just because you don’t have to put up with the tension between them, but it’s also awkward. And, a little frightening. 

 The brothers have Smash Brothers tournaments and movie nights, a few date parties here and there, and it never fails that at some point during the evenings, you find your neck prickling as it always does when you feel someone staring at you. You always hope it’s Mike. Fuck, you wish it was him. But, when you glance up and around, it’s Erwin. Every time. His deep blue eyes are trained on you, the corner of his mouth twitching upward on one side. It doesn’t matter if he’s alone or if he’s got Maddie or some other girl sitting in his lap. He's fucking shameless, and it makes your stomach hurt.

 You keep your mouth shut for the sake of the friendship but also for the sake of Erwin’s pretty face. If he and Mike ever got into an actual fight, Erwin would probably be able to get a good few punches in, but you’re nearly positive Mike would end up destroying him in the long run. That could get him kicked out of school. That could get him thrown in jail. 

 Finals roll around, and you manage to pass all of them without issue, even getting grades above the class average. You feel fantastic, like your long term goals might actually be attainable. You have a long road ahead of you, but your GPA at the end of the year is more than enough to raise your confidence. 

 Mike asks you to come back to his house for the couple weeks between the end of the semester and the start of your summer courses, but you turn him down, too scared of what might happen while you’re there. Acting like a couple in front of his parents will only exacerbate his feelings as well as yours, and you’d like to avoid that as best you can. 

 Even now as you’re standing outside by the Jeep, he tries to persuade you one last time, almost pleading, “Are you sure you don’t wanna come?”

 “Miche, I’m sure,” you tell him, trying to stay stern, but it’s hard when his sea glass eyes light up at the sound of his real name. It’s a habit you’ve gotten into, a bad one considering how much he likes it. How much you like it. “I already told you I wanna spend the free time I have at mom’s. I need to check up on her and… Probably clean, honestly.”

 He lets out a little grunt of disappointment, then nods. “Yeah, I get it.”

 “You saw what she’s like,” you remind him. “Someone needs to drop in every once in a while to make sure she isn’t, like, wasting away or something.”

 “Makes sense. I’ll be bummed, though.”

 “Be bummed all you want,” you smile. “I’ll probably still bother you over break. A lot.”

 He sounds terribly sincere when he mumbles, “You never bother me.” It makes your stomach flip in the way you do not enjoy.

 Mike sighs, taking in one of those deep breaths that makes his broad chest rise then fall, calling attention to it and making you bite your bottom lip. 

 “Alright, I should get going,” he concedes, bending down to kiss you too deeply for simple friends with benefits. It doesn’t stop you from humming into his mouth and smiling against him. You hold him by the back of his neck as he pulls your body close to his, his voice muffled when he tells you mischievously, “Don’t forget to send pictures.”

 It makes you laugh, and you lean back to swipe your tongue over his lips so that he groans and chases after you. 

 “I promise I will. Perv.” The beating sun is nothing in comparison to the way your body heats at the thought. You’ve sent him nudes before, but the idea of him looking at them from hours away, fisting his cock as he admires your body through his phone… It makes seeing him off even harder.

 After a couple more softer kisses, Mike swings into the Wrangler and pulls out of the lot. You stand in his parking space and watch him until he’s out of sight, then walk back to your dorm, dragging your feet the whole way. 

 You only stay at your mom’s house for a week, and just like you predicted, you spend most of it cleaning. She thanks you the whole time but makes excuses in between. You just reassure her that you don’t mind even though you do. She really should see a therapist and sort out the depression she’s been stuck in for a few years now, but telling someone they need professional help is easier said than done. 

 Sleeping in your old bed is much harder this time around. You're all too aware of the weight that isn't behind you, and most nights you lay awake for at least a couple of hours trying to imagine it. 

 Like you’d promised, you send him a few pictures, some of them just lewd selfies with your tits pouring out of the cups of your bra, but others are of your naked body in the bathtub, sometimes a shot of you with your hand between your legs. It feels wrong to touch yourself in your childhood home, but it’s necessary, especially when Mike sends you a few pictures of his own—one with his torso on display, defined abs absolutely mouthwatering and the V of his hips suggestively leading into mesh shorts. Another is of him in the gray joggers he wears all the time, the ones that always show off his cock. 

 He’s so fucking hot it atually hurts, makes your pussy throb as you crave his touch. It’s an awful feeling honestly, but even worse than that is the way you miss him. You aren’t supposed to miss him. You’re just supposed to be friends who have sex. Nothing more than that.

 It's why you’re glad to go back to school. Your classes will distract you, keep you from thinking about him too much. The semester is shorter during the summer, so you have to work even harder than you do during fall and spring. You don’t really think it’ll be a problem since you’re trying to cram your brain full of anything other than Mike which is great motivation for studying. 

 Nothing is gonna get you off track, you tell yourself. Nothing will interfere with your studies. That’s the plan.

 Then, you meet Zeke Jaeger. 

* You're studying in the library. It seems like you spend most of your time here, nice and quiet and empty. The campus isn't nearly as busy in the summer as it is during the rest of the school year. No parties, no sporting events, just you alone with your books. 

 It's nice. Most of the time. A little boring but mostly nice. 

 Your eyes are getting tired, and when you check your phone, you realize why. It's almost eleven PM, meaning you've been studying for about six hours. You've had longer nights, usually spent on the phone getting quizzed on the information you're learning with a few breaks in between, but that wasn't the case tonight as Mike had to spend the day with family from out of town. 

 It's okay. You're supposed to be distancing yourself anyway. 

 Taking a deep breath, you pack up your books and slide your laptop into your bag, then stand and swing it over your shoulder. 

 The strap is too long. The bag swings too hard, and your heart sinks when you hear a little grunt followed by a, "Agh, hot!" 

 Turning with wide eyes, you immediately start apologizing, "I'm so sorry, oh my god, fuck, I'm so sorry!"

 A head of light blond hair looks up from the brown stain on his white t-shirt, icy blue eyes narrowed behind wire-rimmed glasses, but when he sees the mortification on your face, his own expression softens, and he chuckles. 

 "It's fine. You can calm down."

 You're still breathing heavily, guilt making your hands shake, but he really doesn't look angry. In fact, he's grinning now, eyebrows raised like he's amused. 

 The longer you stare at him, the more familiar he looks. You're pretty sure you've seen him before. Many times before, actually, and then it clicks that this guy is on the front page of the school website. You see him every fucking time you log in, looking much more stern than he does now. Baseball hat and jersey, mitt on one hand as he hides his other in it, and yeah, you know him. 

 "You're Zeke Jaeger."

 He makes a face, scrunching his nose up and squinting. "Yeeeeah, I guess I am."

 Best pitcher in the college league despite being a sophomore like you. He's beaten the records of some major league players. 

 You don't give a fuck about baseball, have never even been to any of the school's games, but you've been hearing about Zeke since the last season. You've learned to tune it out because, again, no shits given (and also you're much more partial to lacrosse now), but he's hard to ignore when he's staring you right in the face. 

 "Well, uh," you try to act casual. It's something you're pretty good at these days. "Cool."

 He snorts, picking his shirt off his chest to air it out like it'll help, then says, "I don't know your name, though."

 You run your tongue over your teeth, wondering why he cares, then introduce yourself. 

 "Oh, you're Zacharias' little girlfriend, aren't you?"

 Your stomach flips at the mention of him. 

 "We're not dating."

 Zeke cocks his head to the side. "No?"

 "No. Just friends."

 He hums but doesn't say anything, and your eyes are once again drawn to his chest as he fans over the stain. 

 "Okay, let me get you a new shirt or something," you try. 

 He laughs again. "I highly doubt you've got a men's shirt tucked in that bag of yours, sweetheart."

 "I—" you pout for a second, mumble, "Okay, yeah, fair point."

 "Another coffee, though," he muses out loud. "Wouldn't be the worst thing."

 You shoot him a finger gun and smack your lips. "On it. Where do you get coffee at eleven o'clock?"

 "I'll walk with you," he states more than offers. 

 Then, you're both leaving the library, leaving campus, and going to a little 24 hour cafe where you blow on lattes and cover the basics about each other—philosophy major, valedictorian of his high school class, playing baseball since age seven, etc. You should sleep. You should get ready for another long day of studying.  

 But it's hard to make good decisions when Zeke Jaeger is smirking at you from across the table like you're the most interesting thing he's ever seen. 

* Zeke gets your number that night. You're not exactly sure how, but he does. 

 Then he doesn’t text you for three days. It doesn’t bother you that much. You figure he has other things to focus on. He’s on campus to take a couple courses and practice for the upcoming season, so he’s probably just busy. If that night had just been a one-off, it’s fine with you. It was cool to talk to him, but your heart isn’t broken.

 These are all the thoughts and justifications running through your head when you’re in class on Tuesday and your phone lights up during the PowerPoint lecture. You glance down, expecting Mike or Hitch, but it’s an unknown number instead. Eyes flicking from the projection screen to your much tinier one, you slide to open the message and chew on your lip. 

 Hey, it’s Zeke. You have classes this afternoon?

 You do not. And, you are too quick to tell him that.

 He takes you to a little Mom and Pop restaurant, too far to walk so you end up riding in the black Bronco he drives, trying to convince yourself that it definitely does not make him any more attractive to you. Because you aren’t attracted to him in the first place. Right?

 You sit at a table for two eating paninis and fruit. Zeke asks how classes are going, you ask about practice, and as you talk, he gets that look in his eyes again, like you amuse him or interest him or something.

 It confuses you, and for a moment, you’re taken back to last fall at that first Pi Kappa Alpha party, the one you met Mike at when he tried to get you to shotgun a beer. God, he had been so obnoxious back then, always following you around and flirting and—

 “You listening, sweetheart?”

 Your eyes refocus on the man in front of you, his raised eyebrows and little smirk. “Looks like you’re a million miles away. Sorry if I’m boring you.”

 “No, no,” you try to defend. “I just zoned out for a second. Realized I, uh, got an answer wrong on the quiz I took today.”

 “That sucks,” he hums. “Anyway, I can stop talking about baseball.”

 “It’s okay. Just go over the last, like, ten seconds,” you say with a laugh, hoping your cheeks will stop burning sooner rather than later.

 Zeke chuckles and does just that, doesn’t seem irritated or put out. He tells you about how he has a new trainer this year to warm him up and make sure his throwing arm is in top shape. “I hope he’s as good as my last. Colt was always on it, knew exactly how hot to make the warm compresses and how cold to make the ice packs. Stuff like that. He learned my needs.”

 You both laugh, and if it was anyone else, you’d have an innuendo sliding off your tongue, but for some reason, you don’t think Zeke would want to hear it, like he’d be unimpressed with your vulgar humor. 

 Back at the college, he drives you to your dorm, explaining that he lives in the apartments on the other side of campus and wouldn’t want to make you walk that far. Then, as you slide out of the Bronco, he stops you with a smooth, “Hey,” that makes you look over your shoulder at him. “Make sure you save my number in your phone, okay? I’ll text you soon.”

 The way your stomach flips is worrisome, a feeling you’re only used to when you’re with…

 “Yeah, okay.”

 He grins widely and nods, then waits for you to get a good distance away from the car before driving off.

 No distractions, you’d said. It’ll be good for your focus, you’d said. 

 What a fucking joke. 

*

Mike has to help you with some homework that weekend. You can hear his smile through the phone, snort when he makes his little nerd jokes, then sigh when he gets to the actual subject and explains it to you without a problem. His brain is incredible, and when you think about it too hard, it makes you warm inside. 

 “You’re so fucking smart. Why don’t you let people know?”

 “Maybe I just want you to know,” he chuckles. “You think I wanna spend my days tutoring every idiot who needs help?”

 “Miche, did you just call me an idiot?”

 You hear another breathy laugh followed by a sigh. “I have many, many names for you, but ‘idiot’ isn’t one of them.”

 “Oh yeah?” You play. “And, what might those other names be?”

 He lists a few, all of them making your face flush and your body tingle, and before you know it, you’ve got your pants off and your fingers between your legs. You can hear Mike’s heavy breathing on the other end, the wet sound of his hand stroking his lubricated cock, and when you reach your climax, you moan out your usual, “Oh fuck, oh fuck, Miche.” 

 He tumbles down right behind you, panting and telling you in a voice of disbelief, “Jesus, it just keeps coming.” It makes the pulses of your orgasm even stronger, remembrance of all the times he’s painted you in white, and God, you are so ready for him to get back to the school.

 Then, there’s the voice in the back of your head that makes you think maybe it’s better that he’s gone for now, that he might not be too pleased that you’re spending time with another guy. But, it’s not like things with Zeke are going anywhere. You wouldn’t even call him a friend. You text on and off, have brunch or lunch or coffee depending on the time of day. 

 And, yeah, he calls you pet names, tells you that you look nice even when you’re just in leggings and a t-shirt, talks about his family and…

 Okay, it could potentially lead to something more, but it’s only been a week, and considering his golden boy status, he could have anyone he wants, so why would he even be interested in you in any way, shape, or form?

 Naturally, your thoughts circle back to Mike and the way he could have any girl on his arm, but he still chooses to spend time with you. To fuck you. To nearly confess his feelings to you. You have to wonder if you’re emitting some kind of scent or beacon, if there’s a sign hanging above your head with an arrow pointing down. Sports gods, come get a piece. 

 If only you’d never gone to that party. If you had just kept your head down like you had freshman year. Your life would be so much easier now.

 But now you’re in Zeke’s apartment listening to him rant about some philosopher you’ve never even heard of. He’s gesturing with his hands, flipping curling, blond bangs from his face, and whenever he pauses to think, he scratches his beard. He’s very fond of the white t-shirts and jeans get-up, sometimes switches it up and wears a button down under a sweater vest. Both looks are becoming of him no matter how much you try to deny it, but when he drops down onto the couch next to you and peers into your god damn soul with those piercing, blue eyes, you have to choke back a dreamy sigh.

 What is happening to you?

 “So, what do you think about it?” He asks, looking hopeful that you might have some insight on this matter.

 But, you simply laugh and shake your head. “Zeke,” you start. “I’m gonna be real honest with you here. I didn’t understand a fucking thing you just said.”

 You assume he’ll be disappointed, maybe tire of you since you can’t be as intellectually stimulating as he’d like you to, but Zeke exhales in a lighthearted sort of way, shows one of those amused smiles, and tells you, “You’re cute.”

 Anyone else and you would have snapped back, something along the lines of, don’t fucking patronize me, but with Zeke, all you can do is stare at him and let your lips part, silently asking for something you won’t speak out loud.

 His gaze moves to your mouth for a split second. That soft smile turns into one of his famous smirks. Then, he’s back on his feet and asking, “You wanna go to dinner?”

 You are more than relieved at the shift in atmosphere, but your heart is still beating too hard as you follow him downstairs and to his car. 

* Summer is passing quickly. Too quickly. The eleven week classes are kicking your ass, or are close to kicking your ass. Lucky for you, you have your own private tutor just a call or text away. Mike helps you, and you laugh and goof around, shoot off innuendo after innuendo, but the phone sex slows to a halt eventually. You tell him that you’re tired, and you are. It isn’t a lie. But, it also isn’t the full truth.

 Between classes when you could be resting, you’re eating out with Zeke. Or, watching him and the rest of the baseball team practice for the upcoming season. Or, sitting in his apartment, watching movies and chatting about all manner of things. Nothing important, of course—there’s no diving deep into your life story like you had done with Mike over Spring Break, but Zeke still learns the little things about you. Why you’re majoring in geosciences and how you became good friends with some of the Pike guys. You don’t give him the full details on that one—that you got blackout drunk and fucked Mike and just couldn’t stop. You don’t think Zeke would be interested in hearing about it anyway.

 You learn a bit about his dad and stepmom, the latter of whom he isn’t very fond of. He also has a little brother who’ll be attending the college starting this fall, and he’s interested in the Greek life. Naturally, you build PKA up. Even if there are some… Problematic people in the house, there are also a lot of really good guys. 

 “I’ll make sure to pass it along to him,” Zeke tells you one evening as you’re both sprawled on the couch, backs against the armrests as you face each other. It’s how he seems to prefer to sit when the TV isn’t on. When you asked him why, he had told you, “Just like looking at you,” and you didn’t know how to respond. You still don’t know how to respond.

 “Eren thinkin’ about joining any sports?” You ask now. “Does baseball run in the family or anything?”

 Zeke snorts. “Kid couldn’t hit a baseball even if it was on one of the t-ball stands.”

 “I’ll take that as a ‘no’, then.”

 “I would say he’s more academically inclined, but,” Zeke sighs. “That would be a lie.”

 You can never tell if he actually likes his brother. Most of the time he complains about him, but every once in a while he’ll bring up something cute Eren did as a little boy, and you see a fond glimmer in his light eyes. 

 “Anyway,” Zeke waves off the subject and transitions to a new one—one that makes your stomach drop. “Are you gonna tell Zacharias about us?”

 You choke on your own spit, leaning forward to cough a couple times, then challenge him with a nervous laugh, “I wasn’t aware there was anything to tell him.”

 Zeke tilts his head, mouth pulling up as he raises his eyebrows. “Come on,” he chuckles.

 “Come on, what?” You frown. If you were with Mike, you both would have died at that. Come on my face, you can hear him say, and you have to fight a smile because there’s absolutely no way you could explain that to the man in front of you.

 “You don’t have to play coy, sweetheart. We both know there’s something going on between us.” He says it with such confidence that even if he wasn’t right you wouldn’t be able to argue with him. The assumption should annoy you, should make you scoff and leave, but instead you sit there staring, caught up in his gaze and cocky grin.

 “I—”

 “It’s okay, you know. Not like you’re alone in this.”

 Those questions swim through your mind again, all the insecurities that you’ve been sorting through with Mike, but now that voice is louder because that sense of trust hasn’t formed yet. You’ve only connected with Zeke over meals and movies. It sounds domestic, but despite your apparently obvious attraction to him, you still don’t feel like you really know him. 

 But, he draws you in, like a moth to a flame. You can’t help it. There’s just something about him that makes you want him to like you, like you want to impress him, like you want to be good for him. You’ve been trying to ignore those thoughts, but they’re much harder to fight now that you’re sitting in front of him, taking in his wavy hair and pale blue eyes, that ever present smirk on his face, the curve of his neck that disappears into his shirt.

 He could just want sex. He could just want a fling. Wait for everyone to get back on campus and drop you for another girl. You tell yourself you wouldn’t care; you’re good at keeping things casual.

 Wouldn’t it be fun to be his arm candy for a while, though? Let people look at you and whisper louder than they did when they’d see you and Mike together? You don’t care about status, about being in the spotlight. It’s more for the experience, dating someone who could teach you things.

 Mike teaches you things, that voice pops up again. He’s been helping you with your work for almost a year now. You can’t just overlook that. 

 “What, are you weighing the pros and cons over there or something?”

 You snort. “Maybe. We still don’t really know each other all that well, Zeke.”

 “Might I remind you that we’ve been hanging out all summer? Did you honestly think it wouldn’t lead to anything more?”

 “Honestly,” you mimic, “I never thought you’d be interested.”

 “Why wouldn’t I be?” His brow furrows like he’s genuinely confused. “You’re smart. You’re funny. You’re cute.” 

 God, you can’t even count how many times he’s called you ‘cute’, how many times it’s made you blush over the last several weeks, just like it does now.

 Then, he pushes, “Do you not find me at—”

 “Of course I do,” you cut him off. “I don’t know who doesn’t, which is exactly why I don’t know where this is coming from.”

 Zeke sighs like he’s annoyed, then turns the hand on his thigh palm up and beckons you with two fingers. “Come here.”

 “What?”

 “Come here.”

 Your blood pressure spikes, breaths coming in little puffs that have no way of getting to your brain. It’s probably why you obey, rolling to your knees and clumsily crawling over to him. You stop short, right between his bent knees, but Zeke sits up, straightens his legs, and pulls you into his lap.

 More of that precious air leaves your lungs as you exhale too sharply, staring at him with huge eyes. You don’t know what’s happening, can’t believe it’s happening. It doesn’t feel real even as you rest your hands on his shoulders, even when he holds your hips and pulls you so that your full weight is on him, but fuck, you can’t say anything. You can’t make a sound. All you can do is wait for him to make his next move.

 “Why do you look scared?” His voice is just above a whisper, but at this proximity you can hear him without a problem. 

 “I don’t have a lot of experience sitting in men’s laps,” you manage, trying to keep your usual careless tone, but you doubt it works.

 “For some reason I don’t believe that.”

 You rear back, actually offended. “Excuse m—”

 That ire, however, melts away as quickly as it arose. Zeke slides fingers up your waist, all the way to the back of your neck to bring your face to his—your lips to his. 

 He feels different, not at all what you’re used to. His kiss is more demanding, hungry, and God, you still can’t breathe, can’t think straight because his tongue is moving past your lips, and you’re letting it, letting him taste you as your fingertips dig into the flesh of his shoulders. You lift yourself from him just a little only for Zeke to pull you back down with the hand still gripping your hip. He makes sure you feel him when he grinds up into you, the zipper of his jeans rubbing you through your little shorts so that you gasp into his mouth. 

 You both stay like that for what feels like a fucking eternity, biting and sucking on lips, stroking over each others’ tongues until you absolutely have to break apart. You’re panting now, body still tense on top of his, and Zeke stares at you with half-lidded eyes and shows the ghost of a smile.

 “Oh, I’m gonna have so much fun with you.”

 The statement sets you on fire, so much so that all you can do is whimper quietly and lean in for more. 

  And, as you get lost in Zeke Jaeger, you decide for yourself.

I need to tell Mike

[ next ]

[wondersofdreaming]

Keepsake

Characters: Captain Syverson x female reader (3rd person)

Word count: 1.827

Warnings: Death, loss, hopelessness, light cursing, sadness, melancholy, grief, heartache, mourning.

Author’s note: This story was inspired by the song 'Everglow' by Coldplay.

Do me a favour and listen to the song, while reading this, I'll link to the different versions, depending on your mood.

Everglow (original) by Coldplay

Everglow (acoustic) by Coldplay

Everglow (instrumental) by Alexandre Pachabezian

The links are for Spotify, if they don't work try this link for YouTube

I do not own any characters in this short story, except the wife, son and Elijah Reed, who are figments of my imagination.

A massive, MASSIVE, thank you to my beloved angel, @radaofrivia, for giving me the idea from just a few thoughts, for sitting through with me while I wrote this, for giving me advice and for just being there.

Please check out her stories right here: RADA'S MASTERLIST

MY MASTERLIST

Feedback is appreciated.

(Young Syverson, picture credit to @killjoy-assbutt-1112 - find it here)

Oh, they say people come Say people go This particular diamond was extra special And though you might be gone And the world may not know Still I see you, celestial

Lyrics are from Everglow by Coldplay.

The looming grey clouds were moving closer towards him. He could hear the distant sounds of the rumbling thunder. Before long it started to rain and lightning lit up the entire house. The dirt road was flooded in no time, giving the crops the liquid nourishment they needed.

The former army captain was restless. It was on days like these he missed him, more than anything else in the world. He couldn’t sit still and had planned on working on the house, but the coming storm was putting a stop to that. Instead, he sat on the porch swing he built with Elijah when Lucas bought the house.

The Syversons had moved to their farm when Lucas was 4. A few days into the move, their neighbours had stopped by with some casserole, and to welcome them to their community. Mr and Mrs Reed also had a son who was a few months younger than Luc. Elijah had hidden behind his mother’s leg, a little shy, but with some encouragement he greeted Lucas.

“I’m Lucas, but my baby sister can’t say it yet, she keeps babbling Luc, so if it’s easier, you can call me Luc too.”

“I’m Elijah.”

Sy remembered he was trying so hard to pronounce his new friend’s name. He smiled at the memory, the name had been permanent in Lucas’ mind, only using Elijah, when he was mad at him or thinking he was about to do something stupid, which he did often.

“Lija, wanna play?” Lucas asked awkwardly.

“What?” Elijah looked profoundly confused. “I… don’t know.”

“Go on, son. It’s okay,” Mr Reed tried to encourage him.

“Come with me, Lija. I wanna show ya somethin’.”

Lucas had shown Elijah his new toy tractor that his parents had given him for his birthday. The two young boys had played together, and before long were inseparable.

A round yellow object in the palm of his hand. He was fiddling with it. The coin was always in his pocket, so he could keep his best friend close to him at all times. It was an old arcade coin that you could plot into any machine and play one game.

The two best friends had each gotten a dollar’s worth of coins, but the man at the ticket booth had miscounted, so Sy had gotten an extra coin, which the two friends had fought over during their time in the arcade. Lucas being the protector he was, lost to Elijah on purpose, so his friend won the coin.

“I’ll savour it, it’s going to be my lucky coin!” Elijah has announced.

Syverson swung the porch swing with his booted foot. He stared at the coin, wondering why he had been the lucky one. Luc shook his head faintly, his face full of pain and sorrow.

The coin became a thing that decided their fate. When the boys couldn’t agree on something, they would flip the coin. The picture side was heads and the text ‘No cash value’ side was tails. It might have been worth nothing, but it was a priceless item to the two friends.

“Heads: I ask her on a date, tails: you ask her,” Elijah flipped the yellow coin and covered the back of his hand as it landed. The two teenagers looked over at the brunette cheerleader, who was laughing with her friends. Prom was upon them and they both wanted to ask her. Elijah lifted his hand, it was heads.

The dumb coin was always on Elijah’s side. Lucas let out a soft laughter of the memory. Elijah’s face had been priceless, Sy wished he had taken a picture of it. It had been Elijah’s first kiss that night.

When Lucas decided to enlist, Elijah followed him, even with a lot of arguing against it from Sy’s side. He didn’t want his best friend anywhere near a warzone but in the end, he was glad that Lija was there with him through every hardship during training, when they lost people on their team, when they had to carry the dead back to base, it was better to have a friend by your side and share the pain with.

It didn’t take Syverson long to rank up and become captain. He ended up leading a large group of soldiers in a village in Iraq, with Elijah as his lieutenant, he felt like he could conquer the world.

During one of their trips home, Sy had bought a house he wanted to renovate, maybe start a family in. Elijah had spent every moment he could, helping Lucas with the house. It had made them closer as friends, and they had heartfelt talks about their future. Elijah wanted to come home and help his ailing parents with the farm, maybe get into breeding horses, preferably racehorses. Sy hadn’t thought of his future in that sense by then. He just wanted to relax, drink beer and ride his motorcycle.

There was hardly a moment in Lucas’ life where Elijah wasn’t a part of it. Elijah was his best friend, and if he had to be a little girly, they were BFFs. His best friend’s presence had made every moment special, made them better. It was the hardest part, to not have Elijah by his side anymore. He missed Elijah’s silly, huge and sometimes irritating grin, which somehow made the world seem a bit brighter during the dark times. Elijah made his life easier… he just made it better to have a friend to share everything with.

His heart had broken in a million pieces when the building collapsed on top of his best mate.

“Captain, we need a scouting team. I’m taking three soldiers towards those buildings and see if there are enemies up ahead,” Elijah had suggested.

“Lieutenant, I make the orders here. I’m going,” Lucas commanded.

“Heads or tails, Luc,” Elijah picked out the coin from his breast pocket.

“This is no time for such thing, Lija,” the captain grumbled.

“This is the perfect time, Luc. We promised that whenever we couldn’t agree on something, we would use the coin. So, heads or tails, captain Syverson.”

“Heads.”

The coin had landed on the tails side. Lucas had cursed the coin, fuck, shit, crap, dammit!

“It’s my turn to protect you, Luc. I’m not the scrawny little kid anymore, let me show you!”

Elijah had gathered three soldiers and run between two concrete buildings with a big smile on his face. Sy would never forget the smile. It was a grin of pride and determination. And it was the last time Lucas would ever see his best friend.

Moments later a huge explosion shook the ground they were standing on. Sy watched with horror as the buildings collapsed, trapping Elijah and his team. What they didn’t know then was that the impact with the concrete walls had killed him instantly.

The rest of the soldiers watched as their captain went on his knees. Utter despair and anguish plastered on his face, tears about to escape the corners of his eyes. The usual strict army captain, the man with the muscles, the tough guy who could break you with a stare, was breaking down.

“Lija…” he whispered into the dust-filled space, his voice breathless like somebody knocked the air out of his lungs.

At night he had screamed in pain of the loss of his most beloved friend. His days were filled with hopelessness as he prepared to fly home with Elijah’s corpse in a coffin. The nights only brought nightmares, so he started writing a letter to his best friend and thinking of how to tell Elijah’s parents.

“Dear Lija. I can’t believe you’re… Shit, I can’t even write the word. Just a four-letter word, and yet I can’t fucking write it down on a piece of paper. I wish I could have taken your place, man. It should have been me. I hate you for forcing me to pick a side on that stupid coin. I hate you for being so brave. I hate you for wanting to protect me. Fuck you for dying. Fuck you for leaving me. Here. All alone. What about your parents? How am I going to tell them that you’re… how am I going to face them? You are and will always be my best friend. I wish you could go back to your parent’s farm on your own two legs, not in a fucking box. I miss you, Lija. You’re the closest thing to a brother I will ever get. So rest in peace and keep the seat next to you warm, I’ll see you on the other side. - Luc.”

Lucas had sneaked the letter into Elijah’s breast pocket of his uniform before they had shut the coffin. The coin that Elijah had on him, had been put in a plastic bag with the rest of his belongings, prepped to be given to his next of kin, his parents. But Lucas took the yellow token. He needed a memento to remember his best friend by, something that he could keep with him always. A keepsake.

It had taken every ounce of courage for Lucas to step up to the front door of the Reed’s farmhouse. A house he was so familiar with and had so many adventurous sleepovers in Elijah’s space-themed bedroom. He could smell Mrs Reed’s famous peanut brittle, making it harder for him to knock, but he did it anyway. Standing there in his military uniform, he told the two people, who had acted as a second set of parents to him, that their only son had died heroically in battle. Lucas stood frozen, watching them mourn the loss of their son. He was about to step away to give them space, but Mrs Reed grabbed his wrist and brought him into the hug.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t protect him,” he pleaded, his voice breaking slightly.

“Was he in pain?” Mrs Reed asked, breaking Lucas’ heart all over again.

“No, ma’am. It happened really fast.”

Sy fiddled with the arcade coin. Having zoned out the thunder, not noticing the storm had come and gone. The sun was slowly setting on the horizon. It was a peaceful ending to an emotional day.

A loud wailing came from inside the house. The front door opened and out came his beautiful wife with their young son in her arms. His face was stained in tears. The tiny boy reached towards his father the minute he saw him. In his father’s arms was the only place the boy was happy and content. Sy’s face broke into a happy grin at the sight of his son. His tiny fingers trying to grab the coin in the former captain’s hand.

“This,” Sy showed it to his son, “will be yours when you’re old enough not to eat it.”

He chuckled at the frustrated look on the boy’s face. Sy kissed the top of his son’s head.

“I love you, Elijah.”

[snarkwrites]

six sexy words | lip gallagher ; wondering what your kiss feels like.

Notes:

Oh hello, hi. Guess whose inspiration has finally come back from the war? A while back, I was linked this really neat prompt list by a dear friend of mine and it.. Sparked a few things. So... I guess this is me, starting a new one shots collection?

All of these come from my own mind and I don't take requests for one shots / prompts, btw.

Prompts:

taken from either [ here ] or [ here ] give or take. It could be one or the other or a mix of both at my own choosing.

wondering what your kiss tastes like, be careful what you ask for and a swirling tongue and nibbling teeth were the ones I used / hinted at here.

Fandom / Character:

Shameless | Lip Gallagher x OFC.

Warnings:

Uhh.. Given that it's been a few minutes since I wrote any actual decent smut content (and that's not me being hard on myself, that's me being totally honest, lmaooo) I'm choosing to start this off a little bit tamer.. Dipping my toes in here. Kiddos can stay for now because as spicy as this gets is a heated makeout?

Making out. Kissing. Swapping spit. Thas all, folks.

Tagging:

@brithedemonspawn is the only one currently on my Shameless tag list, so...

** if you want to be tagged in my Shameless stuff, lmk!!**

Other Stuff:

[ about my writing | tag list doc - if you want to be tagged, that is. | fandoms I write for]

“ Are you even listenin to me, doll?” Lip’s voice cut through yet another daydream and I muttered a quiet,dazed response as I glanced up at him. He snickered and then with a smirk, he asked me to repeat what he’d just explained to me.

My mouth opened and closed and the more I tried to focus and remember what he’d been telling me about the equation, the more I struggled to remember. My face burned hot and I tensed a little, huffing out “When will we ever even use this?” in my own defense.

“Svetlana asked me to tutor you. To catch you up.” Lip explained patiently. He gazed at me and I could feel myself slipping out into la la land all over again, imagining what would happen if I just leaned in a little… Maybe grabbed the front of that blue thermal shirt and pulled his mouth against mine. The contrast of his rough mouth against the softness of mine. The taste of cigarettes and soda. My fingers dragging through his hair.

Just the vivid scenario my mind created had me biting my lip. Lost in his eyes and in my daydreams all over again. I shook my head when he snapped his fingers in front of my face.

“Yes?” I asked, a brow raised.

“You’re a million miles away today, Sveta. What’s up?”

I gulped.

Every part of me wanted to tell him exactly what was going on in my head, but there were more than a few things stopping me. For one, there was the fact that my older sister Svetlana would most likely be disappointed. I didn’t want to disappoint her. For another, I was quite sure that I was nothing more than a novelty to Lip. An outsider with a funny accent. A friend, maybe. He has a girlfriend.

,, He has a whore who calls herself his girlfriend and doesn’t treat him the way he deserves.” the thought was enough to have me wrinkling my nose in disgust. Anything involving Karen Jackson tended to do that to me, if we’re being completely honest.

Lip must have noticed the look of disgust. He chuckled and shut the book firmly. Then he rose from the sofa in the Gallagher’s living room and held out his hand to me.

I eyed his hand and gradually, found my gaze drifting back up. Settling on his face. The amused look in his eyes.

“C’mon. Your stomach’s growled at least twice. And I saw ya give Mandy your lunch money earlier, Sveta. We ain’t got much.. Maybe if you get somethin to eat in ya, you’ll pay attention better...” Lip smirked at me as he suggested it.

After finally managing to tear my eyes away from the high definition baby blue gaze I was currently drowning in, I reached out, taking hold of his hand. Letting him pull me up. When he did so, I wound up smashing against him lightly. Our eyes locked again and I licked my lips as my gaze wandered down, settling on his. “Maybe food will help me concentrate.” I agreed quietly.

“Let’s hope so, huh? You got that test tomorrow, right? Yeah, Mr. Ventura’s a dick, so if you don’t pass it’s gonna make it three times as hard to catch up.” Lip mused as he stepped back a little and turned, wandering into the kitchen. I pouted to myself at the broken physical contact and followed him into the room, leaning in the doorway.

Watching him as he fixed two huge sandwiches and then helped himself to a beer and asked me if I wanted anything.

,, to kiss you.” i thought to myself, but I shoved the silly thought out and stepped into the room fully. Slinking over to the counter and picking up the sandwich he’d made for me, taking a big bite. Groaning as the flavors exploded in my mouth, wiping the back of my hand at my mouth because I just knew that I had mustard on my lips.

Lip was the one staring at me now.

Intently.

I lowered my hand and after swallowing the bite I’d taken, I tilted my head slightly. “What? Is something wrong?”

I hate the sound of my own voice, my Russian accent so thick that it definitely stands out.

Lip leaned in and down a little, raising a hand. Taking the edge of his long sleeve top to wipe at the corner of my mouth. “You uh.. Mustard. You had mustard on your mouth...” he muttered quietly, his gaze lingering on my lips.

I licked my lips and swallowed hard. “Is it gone?”

“Yeah. Yeah, it’s gone.” Lip answered quietly, his words trailing off as his mouth inched just a little closer to mine. His hand moved to my hair, smoothing my bangs back out of my eyes and then lingering on the side of my face. He gulped. Took a long and deep breath.

“Now you’re the one whose mind is wandering.” I frowned, confused.

What Lip chose to respond with caught me totally off guard. Not nearly as off guard as what came after that, but it left me wide eyed in shock.

“Just wonderin’ what would happen if I kissed you right now… How it’d feel.” Lip mumbled quietly right as he closed the distance between our faces and his mouth met the corner of mine clumsily.

I wasn’t so shocked that I froze.

Instead, I raised a hand, resting it across the back of his neck as I molded my body against his and used my grip to pull his mouth back against mine, muttering softly in response, “If you want to do something, Philip… Do it. Life is too short to wonder.”

Lip’s hands wandered down, settling on my ass as he lifted me and sat me on the countertop, moving to step between my legs. His mouth crashed against mine deeper, the taste of beer and cigarettes and the sandwich he’d been eating filling my mouth. The scent of his body wash filling my nose and sending a warm shiver through my body. His tongue parted my lips and I dug my fingertips into his neck as I worked to keep up with the frenzied pace of it as it clashed with mine, swirling.

I nipped and tugged at his bottom lip and he gave a quiet groan, scooping me forward on the counter so that I was totally pressed against him. A whimper rose up from my throat, escaping my mouth and lingering in the air between us as the kiss broke and we pulled apart to breathe.

Lip wiped at his mouth, taking a few shaky breaths as he stared at me, unblinking. In a thoughtful daze.

“Well?” I questioned, leaning against him just a little. Awkwardly. Ready to move the second he indicated that he’d made a mistake. I fully expected that to be what happened next. When it wasn’t, I was the one staring at him in a daze this time.

Lip was already leaning back in, going for the kill as he gave a goofy smirk. “Something I wouldn’t mind doin again.” he muttered right as his mouth crashed into mine and my lips parted in anticipation...

[kanonsarchivedblog]

Might Be Onto Somethin' (Kiss Me More)

Word Count: 2142 Rating: E Character(s): Mitsuri Kanroji Ships: None; Mentions of Rengoku Kyōjurō, Iguro Obanai, Sanemi Shinazugawa Genre: Smut Author's Notes: I... Have no excuse other than the fact that Mitsuri is cute and she deserves so much love. And many partners. Give her all of the partners please. She has so much love to give- This can also be read over on my ao3! ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━ The perks of having your own portion of the compound meant the peace and quiet that came with it. It was nice to be able to just relax, to not have to worry about being walked in on. A nice soak in the hot spring had been well earned! A trim to the ends of her hair to get rid of any split ends and to keep the long layers still looking good, and then a bit of skin care! Mitsuri was even able to paint her nails! And her toe nails!

Evening was falling, the sounds of laughter coming from her siblings filling the air as she closed the shoji. Dinner was already done; they would all be retiring to their own spaces soon enough. Summer was in full swing, the heat of the day melting away, though that didn’t mean it still wasn’t warm- too warm to wear proper clothes. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d stripped out of her dinner kimono so quickly; she took a moment to simply stand in the nude, enjoying the slight cool breeze that drifted through the room from an open window.

Open window. Naked. Oh, no!

A squeak escaped her as she grabbed hold of a light cotton yukata, slipping it on to cover herself, cheeks growing rosy in embarrassment. What if someone had come by? And seen her? That would have been so awkward! What if it had been Tomioka-san? OR Shinobu-san? Oh, she wouldn’t have been able to look them in the eye! Or even Uzui-san!

… Or Rengoku-kun.

Or… Or Iguro-san…

Swallowing roughly, Kanroji turned on her heel and marched herself to her bedroom, chastising herself for even considering those thoughts. That- that wasn’t ladylike! Was it? No- yes? A groan slipped free as she flopped onto her futon, face pressed into the blankets. It wasn’t… Wrong to feel lust. She knew this. It also wasn’t wrong to feel love! And it… Wasn’t a bad thing to be attracted to people- to people she knew well! There wasn’t anything bad with that at all!

Kyōjurō had been her friend for years- they’d known each other long before they became Hashira. He’d been her teacher, even! And she’d watched as he grew- as they both grew! Cheeks tinting with an emotion she couldn’t quite place, she rolled over onto her back, staring up at her ceiling. Her window was open in here, too; from there, she could see down the hill to where the Rengoku compound sat.

Her gaze drifted to the window, watching as clouds began to drift across the night sky, the stars peeking out from behind clouds occasionally. It wasn’t a bad thing to… Want. Everyone wanted something, someone- it was natural. Her thighs clenched, an unconscious movement that drew a soft gasp out. Her eyes slid shut, the battle beginning to wane in her mind. This was okay. It was! Especially with… How good it would feel, oh- oh, it would feel good.

“This is okay,” she decided, speaking softly to the empty bedroom. Pushing herself up, she glanced around- as if making sure she was truly alone. Which was silly- of course she was alone! She would have heard if someone came in. A giddy smile curled her lips as she settled back down against her pillows, nimble fingers quickly undoing the tie that held the yukata together, allowing for the fabric to shift.

Her eyes slid shut as she drew in a slow, nervous breath. It wasn’t as if she never touched herself- she did, more often than she really wanted to admit. The tint in her cheeks darkened as she squeezed her thighs together again, creating a gentle sort of pressure that had a sigh slipping free. A hand raised- not her own, not in her mind, no, this hand was much larger than her own, somehow still so soft despite wielding a wicked blade- and came to peel away the yukata, baring her naked form to the room. She was proud of her physique- she was soft, her tummy softer than her fellow Hashira, but beneath that layer of softness was muscle she’d always had, would always have. She liked it- liked having soft hips, a soft tummy, soft thighs.

Iguro-san liked her thighs. He’d complimented her on them a few days ago- when they’d all been granted time off to have their blades sharpened. It had been an idle comment in a conversation with Shinobu-san, who had brought up the idea of a lighter fabric for their summer uniforms. They’d all agreed- it would be nice not to smother in the heavy, dark fabric. Tengen had mentioned how it was smart to have a uniform like her own- a skirt, which did mean she was able to cool off faster than her companions.

The conversation had drifted, which let Obanai murmur close to her ear that he enjoyed her uniform quite a bit- after all, it allowed him to see her beautiful thighs. It had made her blush, had made her squeeze her thighs together and hide a smile.

“Iguro-san,” she sighed out, hand drifting lower, nails ghosting against the skin of a thigh before digging in in a way that gave both pain and pleasure- something she was certain he would enjoy. Something he would do. “Please…”

He wasn’t the only one who looked- she would never admit it aloud, but she caught Kyōjurō looking at her chest a few times, his gaze soft, lids heavy before he caught himself and looked away, cheeks rosy. She thought it was cute! She was more than aware of her bust- it caused her problems at times, especially if she couldn’t bind the proper way before a mission. But oh…

A hand cupped her left breast, fingers squeezing the soft flesh. She pictured the hand to be larger, much larger and warmer, massaging and squeezing, pinching at her nipples just so, drawing out a soft squeal because oh, that’s sensitive! “Kyo-” she whined, head turning to the side, thighs parting as the hand shifted to the other, giving it the same treatment. “Sensitive,” she whispered, though she didn’t hear her own voice- the rasp of another, of a tongue drifting across her nipple, of silver hair and wild eyes.

The hand on her thigh slipped upward, dragging sharp nails along the inside of her thigh. It sent a shock through her system, her legs jolting with the pleasure it drew forth. “Iguro-san!” She gasped, and for a moment, she swore she heard a chuckle- his chuckle, but it only made her hand settle over herself, adrenaline and lust mingling in her veins. Her toes curled as she slipped her middle finger between her folds, surprised to find herself already wet. Then again-

She had been excited for days now, hadn’t had time to handle this.

Oh, but the finger pressing against a bundle of nerves drew her from her thoughts quickly, a moan drifting into the open air of the bedroom at the relief that brief touch gave. Her eyes opened, blinking in the darkness of her bedroom, the images dispelling for a moment.

Toy. She needed something. She needed to be filled- to feel full. It wasn’t as if she could just… Go get the real thing! No, instead she rolled over, grabbing an ornate box that looked as if it should hold jewelry, and tugged it closer. It was inconspicuous; no one would ever think of what it would hold. The toy itself was a good replica of the real thing, thicker near the base, thinner towards the top with a flared head. The material used was soft so as to not cause discomfort- perfect for her, considering how sensitive she could be sometimes. And tonight was certainly one of those times.

Rolling back onto her bed, she took hold of another pillow and slid it down, settling it beneath her rear. Eyes closing once more, images flooded back to the forefront of her mind. The toy pressed to her lips, and if she thought hard enough, she could imagine it having heat along with the weight it held. Her lips parted, the toy slipping in, her tongue curling around the head before she forced her jaw to relax. She’d never admit it out loud, but she’d trained herself with this toy, her throat relaxing. Fingers of another hand drifted low, gathering the slickness that had formed between her lower lips before slipping inside, drawing out a whine around the toy. Her brows furrowed as she tried to time the thrusts with the toy in her mouth, brushing against that one spot every now and then.

In her mind, it wasn’t her fingers in her, or a toy in her mouth- no, the fingers belonged to a man with golden and ruby hair who pressed kisses to her thighs as he opened her up and tore her apart, as he coaxed her closer and closer to the edge with his delicate touches. In her mouth sat the cock of the Snake Pillar, thrusting slowly, deeply, fucking her face.

Too close, too close- she pulled her fingers free and slipped the toy from her mouth with a whine, head falling back. Not yet, she didn’t want to stop yet. Licking her lips, she readjusted, bringing the toy down to settle between her lips, rocking slowly, the head nudging against her clit with each rock until she couldn’t handle it, slipping the toy inside slowly, a hiss slipping free at the stretch. It wasn’t painful, not in the least- no, it felt good, wonderfully so. She whined, nose scrunching up as it bottomed out. She took a moment to adjust, shifting her hips to get a more comfortable angle.

A hand settled at her breasts once more, groping, teasing as she began to move her hand. “Oh,” she whispered, brows furrowing, “yes- yes, like that! I like that, please, yes,” she began to babble as the toy sped up- no, not a toy. Obanai was between her thighs, Kyōjurō behind her, holding her, his hands on her chest as Obanai used her. “Harder, harder, harder- please, I’ve been a good girl!” She whined, lost to her fantasy. “Obanai- Obanai, please.”

'Only good girls get to cum. Are you sure you've been good?' The phantom image asked, voice gruff- Oh. Oh, that would be Sanemi.

“I have!” She squealed, hips rising as the toy began to hit that one spot dead center. “I have, I’ve been good! ‘Nemi, ‘Nemi!” She whined, body moving with the force she used. “Kyo- Oba- oh, there, there, there, don’t stop!”

'We won't stop,' Kyo’s voice whispered in her ear as his fingers played with her nipple, twisting, pinching, massaging. 'Not until you're sobbing and making a mess for us.'

“Fuck me!” She pleaded, something so vulgar that, had she not been in such a worked up state, would have embarrassed her. “Please! I’m a good girl! I’m your good girl! Fuck me, please, God- Obanai, you feel so good! So good in me, so good, yes, yes, 𝘺𝘦𝘴!”

'Gonna be a good girl and cum for me?' Obanai asked, panting. 'Cum on my cock like a good girl, Mitsuri?'

“Yes, yes- Obanai, Ob-” She clamped a hand over her mouth to muffle her scream as she tumbled over the edge, legs twitching, chest heaving as she kept fucking herself. “Harder, harder, please-” she begged, working herself higher and higher up before her hand stopped, body stilling. Tears spilled free, trailing down her cheeks as she removed her hand from her mouth, panting harshly. Wet- very… Wet? Blinking to clear her vision, Mitsuri shifted her hips.

Oh.

Oh!

“Oh, no- that’s- that’s new, oh dear, oh no,” she whispered, pulling the toy free so that she could sit up and gawk at the wet… Puddle. That was a puddle. “OH-” She squeaked, cheeks red as strawberries as she realized what she’d done. She couldn’t stand to clean off her bed- not yet, anyway. She’d clean the blankets and sheets tomorrow, but that poor pillow… “At least you were already ready to be tossed,” she murmured, a giggle bubbling up.

She settled back down on a clean portion of her bed, body relaxing. Sanemi? Kyo? And Obanai? Oh, my! She covered her face with her hands and let out a soft squeal. How would she look them in the eye tomorrow! She shifted, staring at the window- were her eyes playing tricks on her? Brows furrowing, she rose to her feet and stepped closer, poking her head out. No one was there.

Huh.

She could have sworn she’d seen golden and ruby hair. Strange.

Perhaps it was wishful thinking. Shrugging, she turned back to the mess she now had to clean up. Or…

“Or I could… Have some more fun?”

[mummybear]

Help You Out

Words: 3483

Warnings: Massage, Swearing, Smut, Major Dirty Talk (Really Guys What’s New?), Girl On Top, Topping From Bottom, Oral (Female Receiving), Biting, Slightly Possessive Dean, Multiple Orgasms. Think that’s it.

Characters: Dean Winchester, Reader, Mentions of Sam Winchester

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Summary: Dean’s back hurts after so many nights in different motels, so when he and Y/N are forced to share a bed she offers him a hand to get rid of the ache, will he agree to her help when he’s been so distant with her lately?

A/N: @spndeanbingo Square filled - Motel Room. And a big thank you as always to my amazing beta @negans-lucille-tblr

Dean grumbles something under his breath, shifting awkwardly in his seat as he drives, mere minutes away from the motel. You couldn’t wait to get inside the room and take a shower, you were still feeling a little grimy from the previous motel, but luckily Sam actually seemed fairly impressed with the ones at this motel, and Sam Winchester was very rarely wrong when it came to showers.

“This bed better not be as bad as the last one, my back still hurts, damn lumps, I miss my-” Before he can finish his grumbling complaints, you cut him off already knowing what he’s going to say, safe to say this was far from the first time you’d heard it even in the past ten minutes.

“You miss your memory foam mattress back at the bunker, yes I know, and yes I also know that it remembers you.” You sigh loudly, before continuing with a lighter tone to your voice. “Look Dean, we’re here now, we can sleep for a bit then hit the road in the morning, okay?” You try and reason, doing your best to keep the annoyance from your voice.

Dean wasn’t much fun to be around when he was cranky and tired, nor when he was hungry for that matter. They were two of Dean’s biggest weaknesses. He kept insisting he was fine, but Sam and you had known better.

The two of you climbed out of the Impala and headed over to the main office, where a grumpy looking old man was thumbing through the paper.

“Good evening, could we get a double room please,” you ask as nicely as possible, the guy looks up and barely grunts, so you try a different tact, “two beds. One room.” You tell him, trying to keep the edge out of your voice.

“Only one double bed, one room.” The man tells you barely above a mutter, “take it or leave it.”

“We can go somewhere else,” Dean mutters quietly, turning to walk away from the counter. You frown in confusion looking back at Dean, with the key already in hand as you shake your head at the elder Winchester’s behaviour.

“We’ll take it.” You tell the man begrudgingly, not missing the slight hint of panic that flashes across Dean’s face when he looks back at you. You watch Dean with confusion as he turns and leaves you behind. You can’t put your finger on what the hell is wrong with him, and the last few days it has only gotten worse, but you follow him out of the office regardless.

-

You both grab your duffle bags from the Impala’s trunk, an uncomfortable silence surrounding the two of you, which was something you weren’t used to when it came to Dean, no matter how grumpy he was the two of you never really seemed to be affected, but the last few days you noticed there had been something that changed between the two of you.

When you stepped inside the room it already looked at least a little better than the last one you’d had to stay in. From what you can see the bathroom is cleaner and the bed looks a lot more comfortable and sanitary, though you were sure not all things would be coming up roses.

“You take the bed, I’ll take the sofa or something,” Dean offers, tossing his bag onto the small sofa, which was most definitely not going to work for a Winchester, not in a million years.

“Don’t be silly, Dean, we can share. We’re both adults. Or you can take the bed and I’ll take the sofa, because you couldn’t fit on that even if someone cut your legs off at the knees,” you half laugh, making your way into the bathroom with your own bag. Dean follows you to the doorway and leans against it. “Dean, it doesn’t make sense for us to stay here if you can’t even sleep. And I guarantee you, there is no way that you’re getting any sleep on that couch,” you reason, as you adjust the temperature of the shower and pull the curtain closed.

Dean scratches at the back of his neck and shifts awkwardly on the spot, “I uh, move a lot in my sleep, especially when I’m tired. Wouldn’t wanna hurt you or somethin’. I can just go sleep in the car.”

“Don’t make me throw you on that bed, we both know I can do it,” you warn him playfully, a little confused when you see a blush on his cheeks. You pull off your flannel and drop it to the floor.

“Now go get your butt in bed, please, we can share. But I draw the limit at you watching me get undressed.” You see him shift on the spot again. “I promise, if you get too aggressive at any point then I can sleep on the couch,” you assure him, finally earning yourself a slight nod.

“O-Okay, if you’re sure,” Dean stutters his half answer before stumbling out of the door and closing it behind him.

“So adorable sometimes,” you laugh to yourself, now fully undressed you climb into the shower, letting the hot water take you away for a little while.

-

By the time you come out from your shower Dean has collapsed on one side of the bed, fast asleep on his stomach, his jeans still clinging to his ankle as he groans something into the pillow his face is squished into.

You can’t help but admire the way he looks, even with his face pressed into the pillow he’s still one of the most handsome men you’d ever met. Those strong legs and the curve of his firm ass in those boxers, or the strong lines of muscle which are more visible in his back from this position, then of course, there’s dimples at the base of his spine that you’d never noticed before. His arms are under the pillow beneath his head, but you can see the defined muscles in them. You’d always had a thing for Dean’s arms, even though you’d tried not to let yourself look for too long, for fear he or Sam would catch you.

You shake yourself from your slight daze and throw your duffle down alongside Dean’s. Carefully tugging his jeans from his ankle and leaving them with the rest of his clothes, before pulling the covers over his body.

You freeze as he shifts in bed, worried that you’ve woken him up, but instead he curls slightly into the covers and onto his side, one arm beneath his pillow as he gets comfortable again. You breathe properly again when he settles, and you climb into your own side, pulling the covers up.

Dean’s body warmth and his light snores eventually lull you into a surprisingly peaceful sleep.

-

You practically jump awake from your peaceful sleep, it takes you a minute to remember where you are, then you hear that noise again, Dean’s angrily grumbling something beside you as he tosses and turns in bed.

“Dean? What’s wrong?” You ask quietly, voice still heavy and thick with sleep as you turn to look in his direction.

“Jus’ my fuckin’ back, sweetheart, sorry, go back to sleep,” Dean growls in sleepy irritation, throwing himself onto his back again.

You sigh and sit up, turning on the bedside lamp, “turn over, lay on your stomach. I can give you a massage. I’ve had to do it before, Dean, when I was on a hunt with a friend of mine who fucked up her shoulder.”

“I’ll be fine. Just go back to sleep. Besides, massages never work on me,” Dean argues, only annoying you that much more.

“Dean, stop arguing, just let me try and help for fuck's sake.”

“Fine. Don’t say I didn’t warn you,” he grunts shifting onto his front.

You feel him stiffen beneath you as you straddle his ass, “just shut up grumpy ass. Listen to me, close your eyes and take a deep breath, relax,” you tell him as quietly as you can, trying to keep your voice soft, your ass hovering above his as you lean forwards and firmly grip his shoulders. He’s so tense and as you move your thumbs over his knotted muscles, you can tell you might be here a little while. Dean lets out a groan as you press and rotate your thumbs at the base of his neck, slowly making your way down his spine, digging into the knotted muscles as you move.

Well fuck, that may have been the sexiest noise that you’d ever heard. You try and ignore the way his groan shoots arousal straight between your legs, but you have to bite your own lip when you watch the way his hands fist at the sheets beneath him.

“How’s that feel?” you ask him, just above a whisper as your thumbs press into the muscles around his shoulder blades. Dean turns his head to the side and moans as you press against a particularly stubborn knot. You have to fight with yourself not to roll your hips against his ass.

“Fuck, sweetheart, you’ve really got somethin’- Oh God,” he groans deeply and you swear your heart is pounding when he continues to talk in that same deep voice. “Your hands are like fuckin’ magic, I’m gonna have to listen to you more often.” He moans again as you move lower, sliding down so you're sitting on the backs of his thighs, your thumbs pressing into the bottom of his spine and the top of that firm ass of his.

You hate how shaky your voice is when you reply and how uncomfortable your panties have become. “Yeah, I guess you will. Glad you’re finally seeing sense.”

“You could charge for this, damn,” Dean rasps, as you lift yourself off of his thighs, terrified he’ll be able to feel how damp your panties are against his skin. You gently pull down the top of his boxers, digging your thumbs into the firm muscles feeling him relax under you. Then your hands move down further, gently pressing your thumbs under the curve of his ass and down his strong thighs.

“Holy fuckin’ shit, Y/N,” he all but growls and it takes every ounce of self control you have not to moan his name, practically biting into your tongue.

You take a deep breath and tap Dean’s shoulder gently before you lose your nerve, feeling the lump pressing at the base of your throat.

“You wanna turn over? So that I can do the front,” you explain just above a whisper, feeling him stiffen beneath you.

“That might not be such a good idea, Y/N,” he warns you, his voice taking on a deeper and rougher tone than before.

“Please Dean, thought we agreed you should listen to me more often,” you joke shakily; even you’re not sure if this is a good idea anymore. You think that you might know the reason he doesn’t want to turn over, but the thought alone only makes you want him to do it more.

“Okay, don’t say I didn’t warn you,” he rasps, as you sit up a little higher, allowing him to turn onto his back beneath you. As soon as they’re able to, his big green eyes lock on yours, looking a little panicked, and you quickly notice that his face is flushed.

You gasp as you lower yourself into his lap, feeling the impressive bulge that’s currently pressing between your thighs. You do your best to ignore it as you press your thumbs into the front of his shoulders and down his collarbone and over his pecks, before looking into his eyes again. Safe to say that was a big mistake.

His big hands grip your thighs when you involuntarily roll your hips against him, feeling his thickness press against you clit. Your nails sink into his pecs and he moans your name, “feel better, Dean?” you ask barely above a whisper as his hands drag roughly up your thighs and grip your ass tightly, finally pulling a whimper from your parted lips.

“Oh yeah, so much better, sweetheart,” Dean all but growls, nails sinking into your ass as his grip tightens.

You slump forward, letting your hands rest either side of his head as you look into one another’s eyes. “Is this why you’ve been weird around me lately? Because your back hurts? Or does it have more to do with the raging hard on between your legs?” you question him, unable to stop the smirk from curling at your lips when his cheeks blush bright red.

“I uh… I guess the last one,” he tells you quietly, swallowing hard and squeezing your ass harder. You cock your eyebrow in confusion as you look down at him, “look, don’t laugh, but I’ve kinda had this… thing for you lately,” he tells you quietly, a look on his face that tells you he’s worried about what you might say.

“Show me then,” you tell him, biting into your grin.

You squeal in surprise when he practically throws you onto your back and is hovering over you seconds later, a smirk stretching over his plump lips.

“Oh, I’ll show you alright,” Dean all but growls, the nervous side of him has seemingly disappeared as he kisses his way down your neck. You whimper as he sucks a mark into the skin, and drags his teeth over your collarbone, continuing to leave his marks across your body.

Dean settles between your legs and tugs them over his shoulders. You sit up, unable to stop yourself from watching. His eyes remain on yours as his thick tongue moves through your slick, the heat in his gaze makes your stomach roll, and you can’t help but moan his name desperately when his tongue circles around your clit slowly.

Your fingers thread through his hair and your breath catches in your throat when he finally sinks two thick fingers into your wet heat. It’s been ages since you’ve been with a guy, and even longer since you’d been with someone who knew what he was doing - safe to say Dean was a guy who knew what he was doing. With that perfect mouth of his, he's alternating between kitten licks and nibbling and sucking at your sensitive bundle of nerves, and your entire body feels like it’s on fire.

“Dean, get up here, please, I need you inside me,” you whimper as he starts curling his fingers inside you, stroking against that spot which makes your toes curl and your eyes roll back.

Your fingers tighten in his hair, and Dean’s groan vibrates through your pussy, causing a shiver to edge its way up your spine.

He finally relents, easing his fingers from inside you and sucking them between his lips, throwing you a wink as he pulls them free with an audible pop.

“Want my cock that bad, do ya sweetheart?” Dean chuckles, kissing and sucking at your skin as he crawls back over your body.

“Yes I do, you dork. Now get up here and fuck me.”

You giggle when he practically pounces on you, his lips immediately finding yours in a frenzied kiss. Dean shifts between your legs and you hook them over his hips as the tip of his cock nudges at your dripping entrance. Your hands grip at his shoulders, nails digging into his skin, as he pulls away from your lips letting you both gasp for much needed breath.

Dean sits up on his knees, spreading them with his big hands and pulling you closer until your legs are pressed against his chest and your ass is resting on his thighs.

“Fuck, look at you sweetheart, so perfect, can’t wait to feel your tight little pussy wrapped around my cock.” Dean groans as he pushes forward slightly, and you feel your pussy stretch around the wide head of his perfectly thick cock.

You cup your tits, feeling your nails biting at your skin as Dean pushes forward a little further, until he’s fully seated inside you. Dean grips the tops of your thighs as he starts to move, slow and calculated, his grip tightens on you when you try to rock against him.

“Fuck, Dean, more please,” you whine loudly, feeling him hitting that spot repeatedly.

“Don’t worry baby girl, you’re gonna fuckin’ come all over my cock real soon,” he rasps, turning his head to nip at your calf as his thrusts speed up, one of his hands splaying over your stomach, and you swear you can feel his cock bulging under your skin. You look up at Dean in awe, feeling that familiar feeling rising fast, your pussy fluttering and your stomach tightening.

“I can feel my cock against my hand sweetheart, so fuckin’ deep inside your sweet little cunt. You gonna come for me? Wanna watch you bounce on that cock, you gonna do that for me, baby?” Dean rasps as his thumb starts to rub at your clit.

“Oh… oh God! Dean! Fuck anything you want… I’m gonna-” You cut yourself off with a silent scream, feeling your entire body go rigid as you gasp for the breath you don’t even know if you need.

You’ve not even had time to come down from your orgasm when Dean rolls you both over, so you’re on top and he’s on his back, a cocky smirk on those perfect lips of his. You slump forward slightly with your hands on his chest, still panting hard.

“So sexy when you come for me,” Dean purrs as you start moving your hips over him, rocking back and forth.

“Love your big cock, Dean, fills me so good,” you whimper, already feeling another orgasm burning just out of sight.

Dean brings his legs up higher on the bed, so his legs are spread slightly behind you. Your nails bite at his skin when you start to rise and fall over him, feeling his thickness fill you and leave you repeatedly, quickly picking up speed. Dean cups one of your breasts and pinches the nipple between his thumb and forefinger. The slap of your skin against his mixes with your moans and whimpers and Dean’s grunts and groans.

“Gonna make me come, sweetheart, so fuckin’ close. Can’t wait to fuck you full baby girl, you’d like that wouldn’t you, huh? Wanna feel my come dripping from this tight little cunt? Wanna remember who made you scream like a little slut while we’re drivin’ home, don’t ya?” Dean all but growls, snapping his hips to meet yours with the end of every question. His fucking mouth and his perfect cock have you close to losing your damn mind.

“Yes Dean, please. I want it, wanna feel your cock for days. Give it to me, Dean. I need it, please, only a little slut for you,” you whimper feeling your arms shake as he pulls you flat against his chest.

His grip is unyielding as he grabs your ass tightly in those big hands of his, “gonna fuckin’ ruin you princess, ain’t nobody gonna fuck you like me.” He grunts possessively as his hips begin to slam up into you at an inhuman rate. You’re sure your heart is about to thud out of your chest, all you can hear is Dean and the blood that’s rushing through your ears.

Your orgasm sneaks up on you out of nowhere, squeezing tight around Dean’s throbbing cock. White light explodes behind your eyelids, but Dean doesn’t stop moving until you’re practically shaking on top of him, feeling his come trickling down between you.

“Fuck.” You gasp against his sweat slick chest, feeling his fingers running through your hair as he shushes you.

You’re surrounded by him in the best way, and you can feel your body beginning to calm down.

“One word for it,” he chuckles breathlessly, before finally opening his eyes and looking at you.“You okay?” he asks, voice still deep and thick with something so sexy you involuntarily shiver again as Dean rolls you both onto your sides.

“Best I’ve ever had,” you tell him honestly, watching the grin that spreads across his lips. “So, are you finally gonna quit acting weird around me?” you ask with a teasing smile.

“Probably not, sweetheart. You drive me crazy, in every way possible. Anyway, can’t be that bad if it got us here,” Dean grins, pressing a chaste kiss your lips.

“Well, I guess you got me there. You ever want another massage you know where to find me.”

“Oh, I will definitely be taking you up on that.” Dean smirks pulling you against him, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “Now sleep, we’ve got an early start. I wanna see if we can make my memory foam remember you too.”

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[vaguely-concerned]

TF x Graves, 2500 words, complete and utter fluff

Stifling another yawn against the back of my hand I glance over at the window, which shows only the flat dark of a moonless night outside, before turning my eyes back to the line of T.F.’s naked back.

I’m already undressed and perched on the side of the bed, watching as T.F. is still in the middle of his nightly ritual of hanging or folding his fine clothes up all properly and neatly, lest they, I don’t know, unduly crease somewhere they ain’t meant to or somethin’. Listen, I keep my clothes in a pile on the floor by the side of the bed, right next to the shotgun, both within easy reach in the case of a middle-of-the-night emergency skipping of town. Our priorities in these matters don’t really intersect much, but to each his own and so on.

I don’t know why I’m waiting for him to come to bed to lie down myself, exactly — my eyes are already making a spirited attempt at staying shut on me whenever I blink, I’m pretty sure I’d be out and snoring in about three seconds once I got settled — but my skin has that thin restless thrum all through it that I know from experience won’t be satisfied until he’s settled into place against me and besides, the view is nothin’ to sneeze at in the meantime. He stands there shirtless, belt unbuckled and hanging loose around his narrow hips, though the fastenings of his trousers are still done up. In the light of the oil lamp across the room he’s in a rare state of relaxed unselfconscious disarray, his hair grown out long enough again that it spills over his shoulders and down his back while he fastidiously fastens the cufflinks back into place on the empty shirt so they’ll be easy to find in the morning. As he finishes up with the cufflinks he sings to himself under his breath, a good-natured jaunty little tune I vaguely remember the Brick would sometimes break out once you got a couple of drinks in him.

The hum under my skin grows higher and keener.

Stretching an arm out I hook my fingers into one of his belt loops and gently pull him in by it towards the side of the bed, until he’s standing between my legs. It prompts a half-bemused noise from him, but he goes along easily — when I wrap my arms around his waist and rest my forehead against his belly he seems to catch on, though, a sound of amusement vibrating through his chest.

He slides his hand to the back of my neck, twining his fingers into the short hair there, thumb trailing back and forth along the hairline.

T.F.’s too damned scrawny to have much in the way of padding anywhere, but there’s the warm body softness to him here nevertheless, the sweet yield and shift of a living thing whose pliancy belies the supple strength beneath. I rest my cheek against the flat of his stomach and sigh, moving my hand at the small of his back in slow caressing circles.

“Come to bed already,” I murmur, too sleep-softened along the edges to worry overmuch about makin’ sense.

He chuckles, fingers stroking through my hair. “Well, I was on my way, but then I was waylaid by some deplorable fellow in the process. Hell of a thing.”

I grin and turn my face up to him, so that my chin is resting against his belly and my lips brush his skin when I talk. “Huh. Sounds like a real shady character. You want a trustworthy sorta guy to escort you safely the rest of the way?”

“With such dangerous reprobates skulking around in the area, that’s probably for the best,” T.F. nods somberly, fond amusement deepening his voice. He runs his thumb down the bridge of my nose. “Could I afford to hire the services of a strapping upstanding gentleman like yourself, though?”

I make a nonchalant sound in my nose, squeezing him closer against me for a moment. “Eh, don’t worry ‘bout it, this one’s on the house.”

His thumb drifts down to rest at the upturned corner of my mouth as he grins back at me. “Hey, looks like it’s my lucky day.”

I kiss his stomach and lean back enough so I can start in on the fastenings of his trousers — not with any sort of heat behind it, there’s no hint of sex in the air, but in a weird way this is equally satisfying, the everyday-textured contentment of being close without any particular purpose, being the one to slowly render him naked in front of me for no other reason than that he lets me, his hands still smoothing patiently through my hair while I work.

Once I’ve got all the buttons sorted I run my thumb along the sharp edge of his hip bone until I can tuck it into the waist of his trousers and use it to tug them down. We get them about half-way down his thighs like that before we have to pause for him to shimmy out of them the rest of the way on his own, his hand resting on my shoulder for balance as he does the traditional one-legged hop to extricate his foot. Serves him right for only ever wearing pants that might as well have been painted onto him. I mean, not that I’m complainin’, mind.

“Whoa!” he says, laughing as he almost overbalances at the last hurdle, but my hand shoots out to steady him by the hip before too much disaster can be wrought. “Well, not the smoothest strip tease I’ve ever pulled off, sorry about the inconvenience.”

I nose at the newly revealed crease of his hip over the edge of his underwear. “Eh, that’s okay, if I actually wanted a proper show I’d just suggest a round of strip poker again and sit back and watch while you lose.”

“Oh, that’s a strange yet beautiful dream world you’ve made up for yourself there, Malcolm. It’s touching, really, the things the mind will do to protect itself from the truth. Positively — aah!”

T.F. jumps as I draw some of the skin of his hip between my lips and use them to nip sharply at it. His startled yelp turns into a snigger as I let go, possibly ruining the castigating effects somewhat when I brush my lips soothingly over that spot right after.

“Let that be a lesson to ya,” I say sternly.

“A lesson on what, that your mom was apparently half turtle?”

I grunt, still trailing soft kisses over his skin. “That judge in Piltover was right back then, you are an incorrigible menace to all decent and right-thinking people everywhere.”

“First of all, that might be the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me, Malcolm, thank you. Two, including yourself among the ‘decent and right-thinking’ feels like the invention of some fresh new form of fraud by way of imposture unfolding before my eyes, and it’s an honour. And third, that seems to me to be some very selective memory you have there, considering His Honour Judge Highton had some even more colourful words for you after you blew up the entire north wall of the court building breakin’ me out.”

“He might’ve been given to wearing a damn silly mop on his head, but you couldn’t fault him on his vocabulary,” I concede. Before that whole incident I’d honestly thought the wigs were some sort of practical joke the Pilties would play on gullible outsiders, but as it turns out no, if you get sent to jail in the twin cities they add the indignity of makin’ someone wearing a dead badger on their head break the bad news to you. It’s a strange ol’ world out there, alright. In Bilgewater, where people are much more sensible, the justice system basically boils down to the bounty board, or — if you’ve really managed to make a nuisance of yourself — a bunch of captains may call a temporary ceasefire with each other and go get your ass together. I’ve found that the risk of getting on the bad end of an unfair trial is about the same in both places, though of course the Bilgewater one tends to be harder to come back from if carried out to its fullest. I consider myself a bit of an expert in these things.

T.F. makes a thoughtful sound. “To be fair I don’t think anyone had ever given him cause or inspiration for profanity like you did.”

“Aw. That’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.”

He leans down and kisses the top of my head before he straightens for long enough to work his second foot free as well, standing there in just the sleek silky underpants he somehow seems to have an endless fresh supply of wherever we go. (My money’s on some sinister underground ring of lingerie-oriented tailors across south-eastern Valoran, for the record; when it comes to secret societies the Noxians just can’t help themselves.)

“I do my best. Hang on just one moment, I’ll be right back,” he says and ruffles my hair before he turns around, which I would complain about except that the view is, as previously mentioned, impeccable, and I’m sleepy enough to be magnanimous.

After meticulously folding his trousers and leaving them with the rest of his clothes, T.F. moves over to the table across the room and extinguishes the oil lamp, then whistles under his breath as he produces a card from somewhere — he does this, seemingly from thin air and no matter how little he’s wearing; I prefer not to speculate too much about how, exactly — and lets a little magic into it so it gives off a low glow, only enough to light his way the short walk back across the room, ‘cause in T.F.’s world the stubbing of toes and smacking of shins against unexpected furniture in the dark is somethin’ that happens to other people. That probably says some things about him I’m not ready to go puzzlin’ out at this time of night, and that he wouldn’t want to have anyone go puzzlin’ about too hard in the first place anyway.

When I hold out my hand for him in the dark he smiles and takes it, twining our fingers together, and I use the hold to tug him in and deposit him, in a neat controlled wrestler’s roll held close against me as I lay down, to his side of the bed. He laughs again at that, a surprised delighted sound that edges dangerously close to a giggle but hey, I ain’t no snitch, so who’s gonna testify against him, huh?

The card ends up on the far side of his pillow after the tumble, still giving off a glow, enough to illuminate the bed and lend the shadows around it some warmth. It makes the bed seem a small cozy island, the rest of the world rendered a not-unfriendly ocean of darkness around it.

T.F. looks at me like the world’s most contented castaway, bourgeoning crow’s feet punctuating his smile on either side and fingers still linked with mine. His hair is mussed from the meandering fall onto the bed. If I were only fractionally less about five seconds away from fallin’ asleep, my body might start to get ideas about it. Well, tomorrow is always another day.

With the back of my free hand I brush some of his hair away from his brow, and he cranes into it like a well-pleased cat. Even with the blankets tangled around our feet and the not-quite-right positions we’ve ended up in, having tumbled into place rather than settled ourselves with purpose, everything feels warm and loose and comfortable, like I could fall asleep like this even with the decidedly odd angle my arm is at.

As if sensing that the drowsiness is about to claim me for real, T.F. brings our linked hands up to his face so he can press his lips to my scarred knuckles before he lets go, then reaches to pull the covers over us, taking a moment to tuck the blanket around my shoulder properly before snuggling under it himself, hooking his leg over my thigh as he settles into place. I shift until we fit together, the familiarity of how to rest against each other just right comfortable like an old and well-loved piece of clothing. On a sigh he rests our foreheads together, craning forward the tiny amount needed to brush our mouths together and humming contentedly when I meet him there. It’s a slow kiss, but it lingers, a dry sweet press of lips like one last spark sending the day off down into the gently drifting murk of sleep that’s about to claim me for a few hours.

When it ends — I don’t think either of us was really the first to pull back, at some point the kiss simply, in the way of snowflakes on tongues, melted into something different and less defined with the warmth — there’s a moment when my eyes can still fight against slipping shut. It’s weird, the way you can look at someone every day for years and still not feel like you’ve had your fill. T.F.’s sharp narrow face, his high pointy little cheekbones and mouth still curved with a smile as he watches me back — there’s something to knowing I’m gonna see all that again tomorrow morning that all the damn money on Runeterra couldn’t get you. And take it from me, from what I’ve seen of the world there ain’t a lot of things in this life enough money won’t buy. Stumbling across one of them long before we even knew what we had, by a stroke of little more’n dumb fucking luck… sometimes it feels like the biggest heist we ever pulled.

“Hey, Tobias?” I say, brushing the tip of my nose against his as my eyelids finally give up both the battle and the war and slide closed.

“Hmmm?” he says, cheerfully drowsy as well.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” I murmur, because I can’t think of any damn happier thing in the world to say to him.

He wraps his arms around me, his hand stroking meanderingly up and down the scar-crossed span of my back, fingers trailing over my skin with the perfect amount of firmness because he’s taken the time to learn exactly how much pressure it takes to make it comforting. As sleep starts pulling me under to calmer depths I tuck my head under his chin, so my face is pressed to the line of his throat and to his chest. He smells so nice, all warmly real and well-known like my own breathing.

“Tomorrow,” he agrees on a yawn, nuzzling at the top of my head and tightening his arms around me, just for a moment.

I've been trying to write stuff -- literally just anything, no matter how meandering and nonsensical -- to try to break out of a writer's block; it's not really working so far but at least I've got SOMETHING tangible to show for it at the end of the day, so, you know, uh... partial success I guess?? haha

The idea of T.F. having a judge somewhere out there who considers him the One True Nemesis of his career, J. Jonah Jameson style, even though T.F. barely even remembers his name, came from a wonderful conversation with @inversway, and the idea makes me laugh so hard every time I think about it.

ETA: Also put this on AO3, so I have somewhere to put these ficlets that isn't just tumblr! I'm grimly clinging on to this blue hellsite like a obstinate barnacle to the hull of the Titanic, but I do realize it's not the best place to archive uh anything lol