#he still has wonderful eyelashes tho

[vermwerm]

taking notes from femtanyl

[hannieoftheyear]

Right Time (kmg)

synopsis: a day before your 5 year high-school reunion, you find yourself at your best friends’ party, incapable of escaping your feelings for one of your long-time friends.

genre: kmg x fem reader, friends to lovers, basically pwp, smut, fluff(!!!), a little angst if you squint

w.c: 7,9k

content warnings: lots of teasing, switch!mingyu, unprotected sex, masturbation (m and f receiving), fingering, edging, cockwarming (not on purpose), begging, multiple orgasms, creampie, cum eating, mingyu is strong, he's also a little pussy drunk :p

note: I'm so happy I was finally able to finish this! tysm for waiting and for all the support this acc has been receiving these past few weeks♡♡

I really hope you like this, and I apologize if there are any mistakes.

You're at Seungkwan's place and a few drinks in. It’s a Friday night so you don’t care how much you drink because you have nothing to do tomorrow in the morning, and you’ll feel better at night to go to the dreaded reunion.

Seungkwan randomly decided to throw a party and you thought why not show up. You need something else on your mind and your place is right in front anyway.

You’re talking with a group of people you barely know, maybe from your classes or around campus, you don’t know their names but somehow got inserted in their conversation.

But you tune away from the chat, thinking maybe you should go and try to find your friends. That’s when a hand grabs yours and directs you to the other side of the kitchen.

Mingyu looks proud, giggling as he takes you away from everyone and to a corner. His hand feels right against yours, fitting just like they’re meant to be together.

“Are you having fun?” You’re both now standing against a wall now and he’s looking down to you, right into your eyes, expecting your answer. You just nod as you take another sip from your cup. Maybe the coldness of the drink can help with the dizziness of having him so close.

“Who were those people you were talking to? I’ve never seen them before.” You dare to look up at him and find his glossy eyes still trained on yours, almost like he wants to look inside your soul.

“Oh, I don’t know. I’ve seen them around on campus, but I don’t remember their names.” You look away from him briefly to look around the kitchen to see if they’re still there but find it empty.

“I was thinking about looking for you actually.” His smile widens at your words, and you get to see his little fangs. The butterflies in your belly make an appearance, just like every time he smiles at you like that.

“It must be fate that brought me to the kitchen then.” He faces down a little more and now your faces are merely inches away.

Maybe it’s because you’re a little drunk, but you let yourself stare at his features, he’s so close to you now you could even count his eyelashes one by one. His sparkly eyes were always so pretty to you, you’ve told him several times, but he just shrugged it off. The mole on his nose, you still remember the first time you noticed it and since then you’ve always wanted to kiss it. And his pretty plump lips that always had you wondering how they'd feel against yours.

You think you stared a little too long, but you don’t care and the smirk forming on his face tells you he noticed it too. He was watching you closely too. You feel yourself starting to blush, but you indulge in the fantasy that he also may like you as much as you like him. Just for tonight.

He’s moving closer to your ear, his soft skin grazes yours, and you barely hear him on top of all the noise, “I like your dress, I’ve never seen you in a dress before.” The blush blossoms on your cheeks once more as you register his words, and you shy away from him.

The grin on his face tells you he’s enjoying the reaction he got out of you, and you punch his arm lightly. “Shut up! I was trying something different, but if you like it maybe I’ll wear it again.” You give him a little wink as you finish the sentence. Two can play this game.

Though he doesn’t move away like you did, you can see his ears turning a little red, but it’s nothing compared to the way his eyes shamelessly check you out now that you’re a little farther away than before.

He looks at you up and down a few times, licking his lips lightly. His eyes look different, but you can’t quite decipher how, and right when he’s about to speak, his look focuses on something behind you.

You turn back to see what took his attention away from you. Right away you see Seungkwan coming to take you to play some stupid round of beer pong, saying he made a bet with Minghao and you’re the best player in here right now. He doesn’t even let you speak and grabs your hand, rushing you away to the living room full of people. And away from Mingyu.

You quickly turn to check on him and see he’s smiling at the interaction. Good, at least it didn’t completely ruin the moment. Seungkwan will pay for this.

The night goes smoothly, and Seungkwan is right, you are the best beer pong player at the party. Your side had 4 cups left, while your opponents, Minghao and Vernon, had only one.

After you made them lose three cups in a row, some people started getting engaged in the match - Seungkwan's loud screams of happiness drew a lot of attention- and now you have everyone in the living room paying attention to your last shot.

As you concentrate on your target, you scan the people around you and find Mingyu against a wall already looking at you. You weren’t nervous before, but the need to impress him invades you and without thinking you shoot the little ball. And you miss.

A round of oohs fill the room, everyone was expecting for you to win. Your first instinct is to look at Mingyu, he gives you a nod and reassuring look, but you’re still really embarrassed. You turn to face your opponents, who are rather amused at your miss and tease you before their turn. The game isn’t over yet though.

You lose three more cups as the rounds pass and you still can’t seem to reach theirs. Now both teams have only one cup left. Your competitiveness starts to take over you, you can’t lose this now because it’ll seriously hurt your pride.

Taking a few breaths, you concentrate and actually plan your shot. Where the ball should bounce and how much force you have to put into it. Maybe you’re overthinking it, but you did this with the other shots, and you always got them.

You count, 3, 2, 1 and shoot.

Seungkwan reacts before you, jumping and hugging you like you just won a million dollars. And maybe you did because your pride is worth a lot. You hug him back and waste no time to tease Vernon and Minghao.

But what you want the most it’s to see his reaction. You search around the room and the sight makes your insides turn.

Your mood drops when seeing Mingyu essentially flirt with some girl. She’s giggling at something he said. You watch as she lightly grabs his arm and gets close to one of his ears to whisper something. He doesn’t react at whatever she’s saying, but his eyebrows frown a little as he scans the room and eventually makes eye contact with you.

Trying to avoid him, you go back to Seungkwan, who’s still gloating about the win to the two boys and tell him you’re tired and you’re going home.

From the corner of your eye, you can see Mingyu walking towards you, but you ignore him and keep waking to the door. Maybe you’re being dramatic, but it’s not nice to see the guy you’ve liked for countless years flirt with another girl right in front of you, and Seungkwan’s house is not very big so you only have two options: stay and endure the sight of a girl getting to do everything you want to, or leave and be at peace in your house.

You manage to get out of Seungkwan’s place, but Mingyu’s still following you, calling your name. The door to your apartment opens barely an inch when his hand comes from behind you and shuts it close.

With your arms crossed you turn to face him, “Mingyu I’m tired I just want to go home please.” You don’t look him in the eye.

“Is everything okay? I thought we were having a good time.” He questions very confused at your sudden reaction.

“Like I said, I’m just tired.” You know you’re not being fair. You don’t get to be mad at him, you’re not a couple and he can flirt with as many girls as he wants. You’ve seen it happen before. “Can you let me open my door?”

“Did I do something?” He puts his hand right beside your head on the frame of the door, determined to get you to answer. You stare at each other for what it feels like hours, your eyes stay still watching his, but he’s scanning your frowny face.

“Mingyu please.” You uncross your arms and try pushing him away with one hand. “Nope you’re not leaving until you tell me what’s wrong.” Trying to push him away was the wrong choice because now you have one hand on his very firm chest.

“Look, I really don’t want to do this right now. Just please let me leave, and you can go back to whatever you were doing.” A smirk starts appearing on his face as he realizes what’s happening.

“And what was I doing?” He asks playfully. You motion to get your hand away from his chest, but he stops it and keeps it still.

“Oh c'mon.” Is he really going to make you say it? He’s so exasperating. “I saw you with that girl, why are you here? Just go and talk to her! You seemed like you were having a good time.” You’re lying. You didn’t really see much of the interaction, and he knows it. He knows because he kept an eye on you the whole time.

“Why do you care so much?” His annoyingly pretty face looks so smug as he interlocks his fingers with yours, and you let him. “I don’t! Really, I don’t. I don’t care what you do on your own time. You can do whatever you want!” Sometime in your rant, his face came closer to yours, so close you can feel his breath on your skin. “You seem like you do care.” And you swear you feel his smile before you see it.

His lips are mere centimeters away from yours, but you’re not going to give him the satisfaction of being right, not yet at least, so you turn your face to the side.

“So, what if I did care? Which I repeat, I don’t.” His face doesn’t move an inch, and you know he’s still smirking at you by how he sounds when he says the next words, “Why were you storming off like that then?”

“I wasn’t storming off.” Your head shoots to face him again and you know you’re starting to sound defensive, but something tells you he knows your reasons and he’s just fucking with you, so why not do the same?

Trying not to sound too bitter, you continue, “I won the stupid game, of course, and when I turned around to tell you, you were busy! And I was going to leave after the game anyway.”

“So, just to be clear, you won, saw that I was “busy,” He removed his hand from the door only to add quotation marks as he said the word busy, then returned it to its place beside your head, “and because you were tired you decided to leave. Is that correct?”

“Yes, exactly.” He expects you to continue, but when you don’t, he asks “No other reason?”

“Nope.”

The staring contest between you intensifies, and you see his brain trying to work out an answer, a sentence, anything to get you to say what he wants to hear. You wish you could read his mind. Why was he doing all of this? Why does he care so much about your reaction? So, you ask him exactly that.

“Why do you care so much about this anyway?” The silence is loud while he thinks what to answer, and you’re about to retract your question when he interrupts you.

“I just... I wanted to hang out with you and be with you for a while.” This is not the answer you were expecting. However, it makes you feel giddy inside. “We were having a good time before Seungkwan came to ask you to play, and I thought that after you finish, maybe we could just keep talking like we were before. But you saw me and went almost running to the door.” You thought he finished there with a sad tone, but he continued. “I thought I did something wrong, something that upset you” His regretfulness doesn’t last long, and a smirk creeps back on his face. “But I think I know what happened now”.

“Oh, do you?” You snicker, and he steps back but doesn’t change his look. Your faces are now far apart. He can see your reaction better this way. “I think”, He pauses and makes a thinking face. His eyes go from your right eye to your lips, then to your left eye, “I think you are jealous.”

Heat rushes to your cheeks when you hear those words coming from him. You open your mouth to speak, but nothing seems to come out, too shocked to even react. “Now you have nothing to say huh?”

You feel cornered. Should you just tell him the truth? How the simple thought of seeing him would brighten your days? That when he complimented something you were wearing, you’d make sure to wear it again? That your heart jumps every time he laughs at your jokes? That every time you’d see him going home with another girl, you would cry yourself to sleep? Tell him how you’ve been in love with him for years? Should you?

“You already seem to know everything, so what do you want me to do?” Your voice makes him step forward again, his body so close you feel his hands graze yours.

“I want you to tell me the truth, I want to hear it from you, not the guys, not the voices in my head, not anyone else, you.”

You freeze in place, heart beating so furiously you fear he might be able to hear it. What does he mean by the voices in his head? The words can’t seem to get out of you, and he’s staring so intensely you almost forget how to speak. The noise from the long-forgotten party gets drowned out by the tension, so palpable you could cut it with a knife.

His look doesn’t change as the seconds pass, and your mind is scavenging for the right words to say, but nothing convinces you. He’s being patient, like he always is, so kind and patient with you, but you know if you don’t give him an answer he’ll just give up, believe that you don’t care and go back to the party, to that girl. So, you do the only thing that comes to mind, the thing that you’ve been wanting to do for so long. Your faces are so close you don’t even have to move much. You put one hand on the back of his neck and connect your lips together with his.

The butterflies in your stomach explode when he kisses you back harder and wraps both of his arms around your waist to bring your body closer to his. Is this really happening? You find yourself breaking the kiss to check if it’s real. You kissed Mingyu? And he’s kissing you back? This only ever happened in your wildest dreams.

His lips chase after yours, and when he opens his eyes, you welcome him with the biggest smile he’s ever seen. Both of your hands are now at the side of his neck, caressing him while you look at his blushed face in awe.

“Is this real?” Are the first words that come out of your mouth, and he chuckles. You’re both standing at your door, tangled up and giggling at each other like idiots. “Very.” He gives you a peck, then another, then more, smiles never leaving.

"Do you maybe want to come inside?” You shyly ask. He moves his face closer to yours, slowly, and you close your eyes expecting another kiss, but just when you feel his lips barely graze yours, the door clicks, opening, and he answers, “Please”.

Even though your smile doesn’t break, you roll your eyes at his antics. “You’re so..." You barely step one foot inside, and Mingyu’s got you against a wall, again. His lips trap yours, this time in a much deeper kiss, while his hands roam your body. You're so lost in pleasure that you don’t stop the whine that comes out of you.

“I’m so what?” His lips leave your mouth and go for your neck, “Handsome? Funny? Charming? Good-looking?” He leaves a trail of kisses up your neck until he reaches your mouth again, but he doesn’t kiss you, expecting your answer. You chase his lips, but he moves his head back, smirking at your neediness.

“Annoying” he chuckles, and your hands move to his hair, “You’re so annoying”. You take advantage of your hands in his head and push him against you again.

He bites your lower lip, and when you moan, he takes the opportunity to meet his tongue with yours. His tongue tries to memorize every cavity of your mouth, and you let it.

You tug his hair, and he grinds against you. He doesn’t seem to notice, but you definitely do, so you repeat it a few times. “You have to stop doing that before I take you right here right now”, he’s breathless but starts kissing your neck right after.

You move your face to the side to give him more access and say teasingly “What if that’s what I want?”

You feel him smile against your neck at the same time as he picks you up and moves you two to the couch. He sits down, and now you’re straddling him. You, once again, take advantage of the position and grind against him, and his hard on hits all the correct spots on your poorly clothed cunt.

His hands find their way under your dress, and his direct touch turns your skin on fire. He’s grabbing and squeezing your thighs as you keep grinding on him. You manage to take a few moans out of him, and it’s like music to your ears.

Your dress is so riled up that you could just slip it off like a shirt, so you do just that. As soon as you take it off, you move your hands to Mingyu’s waist and grab the hem of his black shirt. He's staring at your figure in awe but understands what you want right away and takes his shirt off quickly.

The both of you take a few seconds to admire the other’s body, your hands traveling from his defined abs to his chest, and he has to fight the whines that want to come out when you take a second too long on his nipples. He’s so sensitive today, maybe because it’s you.

“Can I take this off too?” He asks with his hands on your back, his fingers holding your bra clasp. You just nod and watch him as he takes your bra off himself. You swear his eyes grow ten times bigger at the sight of your bare boobs.

He's grabbing them as he pleases, and you don’t resist the urge to go and kiss him.

The make out gets hungrier by the second. You grind on him, creating delicious friction and he tugs at your nipples getting you to moan in his mouth, and every time without fail you feel his cock twitch in his pants.

After a particularly loud moan escapes Mingyu’s throat, he separates your mouths, and his hands move to your thighs. You’re both breathless, and when you dare to look at his face, you almost forget how to breathe.

His lips are red and swollen, mouth open, trying to regain a steady breath pattern. His hair is so messy that the hairstyle he previously had practically disappeared. And his eyes are filled with desire, even more so than they were at your door. He’s staring at you too, and you figure you look the same.

“Is this okay?” He asks between heavy breaths, and you nod vigorously. “You have no idea how long I’ve been wanting to kiss you and touch you." Mingyu confesses in a smile, and you can’t help to chuckle a little.

“What? Don’t laugh! I’m serious.” Your laugh is contagious, so he laughs with you, but he’s expecting an answer, afraid you’re laughing at him and not with him.

“I’m sorry, sorry.” You take a deep breath before continuing, “You actually have no idea how much I’ve been waiting for this.” Your hand moves to his face, caressing his cheek, and he leans into your touch. You take your time exploring his face, going over the moles that you memorized long ago with your fingers. Now you want to memorize the feeling of his skin against yours.

You trace his jaw and neck, but his hands don’t leave your thighs, and it’s driving you crazy. “Touch me.” That makes his dark eyes go back to yours again. You don’t know it, but he’s going crazy inside trying to practice the little self-control he has left, “Touch me like you say you’ve been wanting to, please.” You half whisper half whine, and maybe he had no self-control after all.

As soon as the plea leaves you mouth, he turns you around, and now he’s towering over you, your head on the armrest of the couch and his body between your legs. Before you get to say anything, you feel his hand ghost over where you need him the most.

His hand grazes your covered core, and you sigh, pushing your body up. “Eager?” His voice is teasing you, but his hand obliges your needs. His fingers draw slow circles on your clit through your panties and you bring his face to yours to suppress the moan threatening to come out.

You can feel how wet you are already, and you know he can feel it too, because every few strokes, his fingers go down to tease you hole through your underwear and you hear the little grunt he lets out when he touches the wetness soaking your panties.

Starting to grow impatient at his slow motions, you push yourself against him. The movement makes his hand press harder against you, and you suppress a moan.

His mouth leaves yours suddenly and goes to our ear, “I want to hear you princess." He presses harder again, and another moan threatens to leave your throat, but you insist, “Then touch me properly.”

Wasting no time, you move your hand away from his hair to the neglected bulge in his pants. He hisses at you touch, but you don’t leave it there. Instead, you unbutton his jeans and sneak your hand inside his underwear. You grab his thick cock and stroke it a few times, “Like this.”

The moans that he’s blessing you with turn you on even more. You press up to his hand again until he finally moves your panties to the side and presses his fingers against your wet cunt.

He starts kissing and biting your neck while collecting your arousal with his fingers, “You're so wet.” He mumbles against your neck.

“Only for y-you" You barely finish your words because without a warning, he buries two fingers into your hole.

His thrusts are slow but deep, making sure you feel even his knuckles against you. “They’re sliding right in.” You’re not sure if he’s speaking to you or to himself, but you only find yourself capable of moaning in response.

Wet sounds fill your living room. The only other sounds are your moans and Mingyu’s occasional grunts. You feel yourself getting even wetter, if that’s even possible, and his fingers start thrusting harder and sharper, drilling into you like he's spelling his name inside you, erasing any trace of anyone before him.

His fingers fit inside you deliciously and you find it hard to keep up the pace of your hands on his cock. You quiver on top of him when he finds your sweet spot and starts abusing it.

The relentless rhythm keeps getting harder and harder, touching right where you need him with every thrust, and you feel the familiar tightness in your stomach, so close to snapping you can taste it. But it gets ripped out of you when he gets his hand out and away from your pulsing core.

Your mind is so foggy you almost miss his smirk as you recover from your not-orgasm. “You’re… so mean.” You’re breathless and barely get those words out.

He trails kisses from your left boob up to your mouth and gives you a peck that’s a second too long. "What’s the rush?” His hands caress your inner thighs, teasing you even more after your ruined orgasm.

“Why did you stop?” The question comes out more of a whine than anything else, but he doesn’t reply. Before you know it, he’s taking your panties off, leaving you completely naked just for him. He takes a few seconds to admire your bare pussy.

His fingers spread your lips and spread your arousal all around you, but not touching where you need him the most. You're about to complain when you feel his breath on your core.

With his hands separating your legs to give him space, he dives into you, eating you out like a starved man. He flattens his tongue on your lips, feeling every pulse your aching core has to offer. A groan escapes out of him and sends shivers down your spine.

When you look down, your eyes lock onto his as his tongue plays with your clit as he pleases, and all you have to offer him are your unfiltered moans. Your hands sneak to his hair, and you tug at it, eagering him on and triggering more groans out of him.

You can feel the familiar burning sensation coming close, and more arousal starts gushing out of you, soaking his chin. He seems to notice it too, because he slurps it all up like he hasn’t had a drink in ages.

With his tongue preoccupied with your hole, his nose strokes your clit perfectly. You're too lost in pleasure, squirming nonstop under him. Your hands push his head further against your cunt and he speeds up his movements.

You don’t remove your eyes from his as your orgasm hits you hard and fast. You're shaking under Mingyu and can feel his mouth still working on you, drinking all the juices that come out of you. Soon enough, you feel the overstimulation and push his head away from you.

The sight of him leaves you in awe. His hair is even messier now, and the lower part of his face is drenched in your juices. He swipes the back of his hands to clean himself as much as possible, and he licks the remaining juices from his hand.

A new rush of arousal hits you at the sight, and you can only bring him close to you and kiss him. You taste yourself on his tongue. A mix of saliva and arousal makes the kiss messier each second it passes.

“Take off your pants. I want to feel you,” you manage to get out with his lips on top of yours, and he obliges. You don’t separate as he wiggles them out and kicks them off. You hear the faint sound of them hitting the ground. He starts grinding against your bare core, and you realize he also took off his boxers. You moan in his mouth as his grinds against your bare cunt, mixing both of your juices.

You separate your lips from his to speak, but he takes it as an opportunity to start leaving marks against your neck. “We should probably,” you don’t finish your sentence, sighing at the feeling of his teeth biting lightly on your sensitive spot.

“What was that baby?” He teases as his hands sneak up to your boobs and caress them softly. The softness of his touches and the way both of your sexes are grinding against each other contrast so much it’s making it hard to even think.

“W-we should go to the bedroom.”

“Mhm,” It’s all he replies, probably more of a muffled moan due to the grinding pace he’s settled. The tip of his cock perfectly grazes your clit and you almost forget what you wanted to say.

“I’m not fucking on the couch Mingyu,” it comes out breather than you want to, not with the serious tone you were looking for, but it seems to work because his head shoots right up at your words.

“Then let’s go to bed princess,” you see a glimpse of his smirk right before he picks you up. Mingyu knows your place like the back of his hand. He could easily walk around blindfolded, so it’s not hard for him to carry you easily to your bedroom.

He gently drops you on the bed, and, in a flash, he turns on the light and returns back on top of you. Your legs wrap around his waist

The feeling of his lips against yours it’s as addicting as any drug. They move against each other easily, almost like that’s how it was always supposed to be. Your hands are all over each other’s bodies, roaming freely now that you have more space. His skin burns against yours, his touches leave traces you’ll never be able to forget.

Your hand sneaks down to wrap around his hard and leaking cock. You start plumping at a torturing slow pace, feeling every vein against your hand.

A shiver runs through him when your fingers pay special attention to the tip, drawing circles around it. He moans in your ear in response, and you feel his dick twitch against your palm right before a rush of more pre cum leaks out.

The juices make it easy for you to plump it a little faster, drawing little sighs out of him. His cock feels so thick against your hand, it makes you clench around nothing at the thought of having him inside.

“I need you inside,” His cock twitches again at your half-moaned words, exposing the effect your words have on him.

“Are you sure?”

“Please Mingyu,” you place his tip at your entrance at his hesitation. He moans at the feeling of your wet hole covering his leaking tip.

“You’re making me crazy.” He says as you wrap your legs tightly around his waist, and he pushes it inside just a little, but enough to have you both moaning.

“It’s what I do best,” you manage to get out right before he slowly thrusts inside, letting you feel just how much it deliciously stretches you.

The initial burning sensation of the stretch quickly dissolves and turns into pleasure when he bottoms out. He’s so deep inside that you can feel him in your throat, reaching places you’re not sure anyone has even came close to.

He twitches inside you when you clench around him, signaling him you’re ready, but he doesn’t move. His head sneaks down to your neck, and you can feel his heavy breathing.

You grab his face to make him look at you. “What are you doing?”

“I’m not doing anything!" He replies feigning innocence.

“That’s exactly what I’m complaining about."

“Just wait.” He places his hands on your waist to keep you from moving.

He notices your questioning look and rushes to say, “I'll cum too fast and I really don’t want this to be over too soon.” He finishes with an embarrassed tone, looking down to avoid your gaze.

“Who said it has to be over?” You try to sound playful, but he still isn’t looking up. “Mingyu look at me.” His head shoots straight up at your serious tone.

“You know I don’t fuck around and even less with my friends. I don’t want this to be a onetime thing.” He’s looking at you with those puppy eyes that always make you weak.

Mingyu’s fingers draw circles on your sides. The touch feels so intimate, yet so right, because it’s him. “I don’t want it to be a one-time thing either,” He says carefully.

A reminder that he’s still inside you hits when you unconsciously clench around him and you both hiss at the stimulation.

“Then don’t worry.” Your hands caress the side of his face, and he leans into the touch. “We can talk later when you don’t have your dick fully inside of me.”

He chuckles at your words, and the vibrations reach all the way down to your connected cores. You give him a little peck and say, “Now please move because I’m going crazy."

A chuckle leaves his mouth again at your eagerness, but does what you asked nonetheless.

The first drag of his cock has you both moaning on each other’s mouths.

Your walls hug him just right and Mingyu thinks this might just be what heaven feels like. He might get addicted to the feeling of you wrapped around him, a moaning mess under him, because of him.

The pace of his thrusts become hard and fast when he finds your g-spot. His gands grip your hips tightly, and your nails claw on his back, digging into his skin as he abuses the spot and he groans at the feeling.

It's almost embarrassing how quickly you begin to feel the familiar burning sensation on the pit of your stomach. His dick molding your insides to fit him have you in a delirious state, and you clench impossibly tighter around him.

“You’re so tight oh my god,” He sighs against your neck after leaving a trail of marks that for sure are going to be visible tomorrow, but you don’t care. Your walls clench around him tightly, so tight he almost slips out.

“I’m so close,” the words leave your mouth in the form of a moan, and Mingyu responds by lowering one of his hands and directly stimulating your clit. “Cum with me Gyu please."

Your words snap something inside of him. His quick fingers match his relentless rhythm, and you’re shivering under him, your orgasm so close you can taste it, rushing towards you at the speed of light. His pounds become sloppy, and you know he's close too.

Your chests flush together, making his thrusts impossibly deeper. You’re seeing stars and babbling words out that you can’t decipher, but that seems to eager him on more.

Your bed is squeaking and hitting the wall behind, but it’s just background noise for you. The only thing on your mind is Mingyu inside of you and your orgasm so close so snapping you’re almost screaming every time his cock hits that spot inside you.

When Mingyu gets up from his hiding place on your neck, grabs your legs, and puts them on his shoulders you’re done for.

No less than a few thrusts in the new position, and you’re seeing white. The orgasm makes you shake uncontrollably under him, clenching and moaning with no restriction whatsoever.

Mingyu’s still pounding on you, chasing his own orgasm while maintaining yours on its peak for a record time. “I want you inside,” are the only words you register coming out of you.

You manage to stop shaking just when you feel him twitch, releasing inside of you with a drawn out moan, filling you up with his seed.

He collapses on top of you. You can feel his dick somehow still twitching inside of you. One of his hands finds yours and interlocks your fingers.

You stay like that for a while, his face nuzzled on your neck, your other hand drawing circles on his back, and your heartbeats aligned.

“Now don’t fall asleep on me,” you say when you feel his breathing slowing down and he laughs lightly.

“You’re too comfortable,” he nuzzles his face on your neck and gives you a peck. It’s his new favorite place in the whole world. “I want to stay like this forever.”

“That’s really sweet Gyu,” You look down at where you know his head is, and find him already staring at you, “But you’re crushing me.”

“Oh my god I’m sorry,” He rushes to apologize and motions to get up.

“It’s oka-ay oh my god!" He slips out of you in the middle of your sentence, and you can’t help to moan out. The drag of his cock on your overstimulated hole makes your mind foggy.

But nothing prepared you to feel his digits drag across your lower lips again. He’s almost in a trance, gathering both of your juices and spreading them all around your pussy, like it’s some kind of painting he’s working on.

The light stimulation turns you on again and he doesn’t resist the urge to dive into you pussy again, drinking the mix of juices and cleaning up the mess he just made. His tongue travels across every crevice in search for more of your juices.

When he notices more of his seed seeping out of you, he gathers it with two of his fingers and stuff it inside you again.

The sudden intrusion makes you whine in response. Your hands shoot down to his hair and tug at it. He moans at the feeling, reminding you his mouth is still on your lower lips.

Your insides are still sensitive from your delirious orgasm not long ago, and you feel every stroke raw and deep. His fingers push his seed further inside of you, curling up and finding your g-spot again in record time.

“Oh my god Mingyu!” His fingers abuse your spot while his tongue flattens on your clit.

“Mhm you like that? You like how I’m stuffing you full of my cum?” You can only moan in response as his tongue is back at you.

You grind yourself against his tongue, and he speeds up his fingers, thrusting hard and sharp exactly where you need it. The stimulation on your insides combined with his tongue is too much on you.

“I’m-m gonna c-cum!” You barely scream those words out right before you feel your release. You’re squirming and shaking under him, and his free hand has to hold you down. But his movements don’t stop. His fingers keep hitting inside you, drawing out your orgasm once more.

He slows down as you stop shaking and drags his fingers out of you when you stop clenching around them. His mouth is cleaning all your juices again. You have to push his face away before the overstimulation gets too much.

“Holy shit Mingyu,” you’re breathless, recovering from probably one of the best orgasms of your life.

“Are you okay?” Mingyu says as he lays down by your side, hugging you as you lay your head on his chest. His hands caress your back softly, and you listen to his heartbeat under your ear.

“That was amazing.” You try to escape his arms to go to the bathroom to clean up, but he doesn’t let you.

His arms squeeze you in, “You’re not going anywhere.” You can’t help to chuckle at his reaction. “I’m just going to the bathroom babe, I’ll be right back.”

He reluctantly looses up his arms, but as you stand up, his hand grabs yours. When you look back, you find his endearing puppy eyes watching you, “What?” You ask with a smile on your face.

“Come back?” He simply says, and your smile widens. He’s so cute when he gets so sulky. You crouch down to give him a peck. He tries to deepen it, but you don’t let him, “I’ll be right back, I promise. Count to twenty and I’ll be back here again.”

He let’s go of your hands and starts counting out loud. You laugh as you walk fast to the bathroom. You clean up as best as you can and put clean underwear.

When you’re back, you notice he also put his boxers back on and tidied up the bed a little.

You jump to bed beside him, giving him a kiss after kiss on the lips. You separate just enough to stare at his face. His eyes have a sparkle in them you’ve never seen before, “Is this real?"

You’re both on your sides. Your hands are caressing the sides of his face while his are on your waist. You’re both staring and smiling at each other like idiots when he raises his voice.

“Can I tell you something? But promise not to laugh.” He asks with those puppy eyes, and you wouldn’t be able to tell him no even if you wanted to. “I’m listening.”

“Remember what I said earlier, about wanting to do this for a long time? I” He pauses to think, and you just nod and stare at him, afraid of what he has to say next. “I really meant it, but like, not just having sex. I always imagined doing this on other circumstances, so forgive me if this sounds too rushed, but I really, really like you. I think I’ve had a crush on you since the first time we met, and every year that passed, my feeling never died down. It’s okay if you just want to stay friends after this, but I had to tell you I liked you. I can’t hold back any longer.”

You’re left speechless. Your brain tries to process everything that just came out of the mouth of the man of your dreams. “Are you serious?” Are the only words that manage so escape before you can even think about them.

Mingyu’s taken aback by your answer, but you're quick to continue, “Is this a dream? I must be dreaming.” Your smile widens as you fully understand everything that just happened.

“Mingyu why didn’t you tell me sooner!” Your hand slaps him lightly on his chest, and he gives you a confused smile. “I really really like you too!”

You’ve never seen him wearing a smile so big in your life, and you never want to go back to that dark and obscure world.

His grip tightens on your waist as he brings your bodies together, linking your lips in a soft kiss, letting you feel everything he couldn’t say out loud.

The kiss is sweet and slow, with no trace of hunger or lust. You take time to savor each other, now that you have all the time in the world together.

“We’re really stupid,” Mingyu jokes when you’re forced to separate in search for some air.

“I know right? We could’ve been doing this for a long time, but we’re chickens.”

“Hey! I confessed first! If I didn’t chase after you at the party, this wouldn’t have happened.”

“Okaay you’re right,” You roll your eyes jokingly and cover your bodies with the bed sheets. You give him a little peck and turn around in his arms, and your back now flushed against his chest. “Let’s go to sleep.”

The morning sun and the personal heater behind you wake you up. You feel a hand caressing your tummy softly and turn around.

“How long have you been awake?”

You never want to go back to a time when you don’t wake up in Mingyu’s arms. Him wrapped around you, seeing his bare face just woken up. You think this is how life is supposed to be.

“Just a little while.” He smiles softly, still a little drowsy.

“You should’ve woken me up!”

“I didn’t want to bother you, besides I was just savoring the moment."

You hug him back, wrapping your arms around his back and nuzzling your head on his chest. The silence is peaceful as you both drink up each other’s presence.

His soft touches almost drift you back to sleep, but a little reminder pops up in your head.

“What time is it?” You hurriedly ask, reluctantly separating your bodies.

“I don’t know it’s probably like noon.”

“Oh my god Gyu today is the reunion! I almost forgot about it! We have to get ready.”

“It’s okay we have all afternoon.” He brings your bodies closer again, not letting you out of his grip.

“You don’t understand, I need all afternoon to get ready.”

“You could walk out there wearing a trash bag, and you’ll still be the prettiest, sexiest one there.” Blush creeps in on your cheeks at the compliment, and Mingyu can’t help the need to kiss you at the sight.

“Thank you, really,” you say in between kisses, “but I’ve been stressing about this for weeks and getting everything for the outfit so… you need to get going.”

“Are you kicking me out?” He moves his head to your neck, kissing your sensitive spot.

“You’re distracting,” you sigh out, giving into his touch and flushing your bodies closer. “We really need to get u-“.

His mouth is back on yours, interrupting you and kissing you with lust and neediness. Your actions don’t align with your words, as your hands sneak up to his hair and deepen the kiss.

You feel his growing bulge against your thigh and sigh against his mouth, giving him an opening for his tongue to dance around yours lazily.

It’s when he grinds against you that your mind remembers your original plan, and somehow you break the kiss.

“Let’s go,” you manage to get up before he catches you in his arms again. He’s lost, hair a mess from sleeping and from your hands, and you can see the outline of his growing bulge.

“You’re soo mean,” You put an oversized t-shirt on and drag him out of bed and onto the living room, where all your clothes are scattered on the floor.

“Do you want some coffee?” You ask him from your kitchen while he picks up his clothes and dresses up.

He doesn’t reply, so you think he didn’t hear you and start preparing two coffees just in case. That’s when you feel two arms hugging you from behind. Your back is pressed against his chest, and he’s kissing your neck.

“I think I’ll get going.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t mean to upset you.” You turn around to face him, scared you ruined the day.

“No you didn’t! It’s okay, I understand, and besides, now I have all the time in the world to make you mine.” He kisses you softly for a few seconds before breaking it off, leaving you dizzy. “See you tonight."

He goes directly to your entrance, leaving you shocked on the kitchen, opens the door and waves you goodbye.

Not even one minute later, you hear your phone ding. You grab it thinking it’s Mingyu, but it’s not.

Kwanie: tell me I did not just see

Kwanie: Kim fucking Mingyu walking out of your apartment

Kwanie: all messed up and with the same clothes as yesterday

Kwanie: you have some explaining to do I’ll be waiting but not patiently

note: tysm for reading♥︎

I've been writing this for over a month, I got stuck so many times trying to figure out the best way to end it, ik it's kind of abrupt I apologize :(

[kentocalls]

endo yamato | slipping under this is all @bjorkshire-pudding's fault. was i supposed to stay absolutely normal after he pulls the pose below? nfsw. mdni. use of precious/angel/goddess. toxic ex (but he brings you down to light him on fire). would you like more from this? i have so much more to write.

you know he's there, you don't even bother looking now.  

the guy in front of you is the exact opposite of endo. your date has an  slicked back hair with a nice smile. he's speaking politely, ever the gentleman.  

if you had never, ever, met endo, you could give your date undivided attention. you could smile at his jokes, receive his compliments, feel the fire in your belly when he touches your hand softly,  but no. all you sense is the gloom and doom aura of endo as he sips, feigning innocence, on a melon soda.

you wait but endo does nothing,  sips the drink, eyes on you. 

he's stopped being loud and obnoxious. doesn't barge in when your date says something corny or touches your hand or scoots closer to you.  nope, all that is gone and replaced with this. drilling holes into the back of your dates head as he sits tucked away, hidden from view. eerily silent.

he does still text you tho. points out that this guy didn't let you order another pastry after you didn't like your original choice. and that this guy walks on the inside of the street like some careful kitten when you're the one that's worth diamonds. 

but that's okay, cuz if the date makes you feel happy and can fuck you better than endo,  he's fine with it. take your momentary pleasures, endo wants you to be happy after. he only ever wants you to be happy. he can tolerate you having playmates.  

he can accept you like being social, and that means you meet new people. he accepts you like to doll up and bat your eyelashes, it's game for you now isn't it? the way you ensnare everyone in your charm, your perfume lulling the undeserving, twisting them to your beck and call.

well, why this fucker isn't on his knees is beyond infuriating. 

endo clicks his tongue, clenches his teeth at how much your current date talks about himself. has the pig even asked about your day? bet he hasn't even complimented your jacket and earrings. did little piggy even on notice the color on your nails or the tiny rhinestones on them this time? 

why the fuck does he think talking to you about finances is more important? fuck an apartment on wall street when you're the goddamn whole view.   right there, in front of him. 

endo wonders if you're going to take pity on this blind pig. your date's tall, maybe he's packin', maybe he can take care of you like that.  since you won't use endo anymore. won't let endo be good for you like that.  fucking fuck the pig still talking about his portfolio?

what use is a portfolio if it's not full of sketches of your face? 

endo watches with a glare. you deserve the moon and stars and sky. you deserve a parade of praise and kisses and hugs and fuck fuck fuck, where are you going?

endo stands and follows, outside you give him the shortest glare, that lil annoyed look he understands as 'don't follow me.' 

he stops his right there. watches you get further and further out of reach. makes a call to one of his guys, "yeah just watch, report back to me. yeah every thing that happens. no not every five, every minute. you like your fingers? report every. minute. got it?"

you don't bother to look at endo when you're back in your apartment, he's sprawled all over on the floor, a bag of your favorite chips and soda sit at the coffee table behind him. he's munching on the same brand, watching your comfort show.  there's a smirk on his face but he doesn't make comment about the absence of the pig.

he knew that date was a disaster,  the guy tried to shake your hand instead of a hug or kiss? he said time spent with you was tialics just alright? who fuck would say that to a goddess?

you don't sleep well, endo knows it's because you're so wound up. use him, take what you need from him, he says it every hour of every day but nooo. that's not on the cards anymore because endo and you have "boundaries" because it's  "over" and you're  "not together."  

that he tripping your best friend at her wedding for what he considered was looking at you wrong was the final straw.  if he's honest, maybe he should've waited after she walked down the wedding asile to trip her but whatever, bitch had it coming.

she made your life hell under the disguise of bride of honor duties and endo knows scum when he sees it. you? the precious light of his life, you see the good in everyone.

you only saw the good in him too. 

and he believed in it, cherished it, harnessed it. made himself better because of it.  endo's changed, he doesn't smoke at least two days before he's gonna be at your place. no fights, no dirty shoes, clothes or hair. he is clean, soft, face well moisturized, pearly whites ready, lips buttery smooth --ready for your kisses, for your skin. he maintains himself for you.

he knows you notice, he's felt your hand on his face in the early morning when he feigns sleep when you're not rushing out of the door and accidentally stubbing your toe or hitting your elbow and he get's to hear the melody of your fuck fuck fuck. 

mornings like this, were you needy and the control slips. you allow yourself an indulgence, you're gonna blame the sleepy haze. that you weren't fully awake, it's his fault for crashing at your place unannounced anyways.  

entirely unnecessary, all endo needs to know, all he latches onto is that you dream of him. 

doing this with you.

so he behaves. the way the sunlight drips into your tiny apartment, he knows you're already running late. you're crawling roughly top of him,  less careful, less scared of waking him up. 

push your sweet and soft lips into his neck, curl a hand into his hair and pull. ohhh you're so mad at him. the delicious pain in his neck as you suck and bite, the slow undulation of your hips against his. 

still still still.

he has to stay so fucking still.

the second you know he's up, you're going to disappear. like trying to grab sand, if he grips, if he helps, tries to make the pressure better, you'll fade away. with no pleasure, no relief. all that energy, all that stress, all those pent up feelings dragging you down, snuffing out your laughter.

endo can't have that.

so he's extra still, let's you rub against him however you need, listens to you huff and moan and whine. you're trying to keep your mouth busy on his skin, biting, licking, teasing. you don't have to, you don't need to do this all on your own.

if only if only if only, hands itching, tongue heavy, its been weeks upon weeks, you're finally so close to him. you changed your shampoo. you wore the caramel perfume didn't you? it's scent even mixed with your skin.

and he's been so good this month, hasn't punched any of your dates, waiters or annoying people. hasn't even invaded your personal space.  hasn't held your hand, wrapped an arm around you shoulder or hugged you. hasn't stolen a kiss from you in days. 

fuck. your date had held you close in the movie theater hadn't he?  promised you a good time later and then what? settled for a goodbye handshake?  did that fucker even think to kiss you? did he even walk you back home? and now it's clicking.

your date made you feel unwanted didn't he?  that fucking pig.

why the hell is endo thinking of your date when you're the one moaning endo's name in an unsatisfied tone?

oh, his goddess, his princess, his queen. it's not enough, huh?  you've never enjoyed playing solo.  you keep moving against him, but it's barely building up isn't it? you need endo's hands on you, he knows. you want endo to do the work, don't you? he'd build it up so good for you too, doesn't he always? 

there's anger now, a shift in your tone and his eyes are open. why are you angry, what happened, he was here all night, protecting you from the world, why are you upset?

and it gets worse.

you pull away from, his hands weren't even on you for a full minute and you pull away, sitting, half straddling him. 

oh precious doll.

you're so tired. you didn't get the relief you needed, huh? stayed up all night, no wonder you're so frustrated.  let him take care of it, let him tend to you. and it's that hushed whimper, that shaky exhale, and his name on your lips. the quivering of the bottom of you lip, shame filling you with what you're gonna ask of him.

"endo..."  he won't let you, nu uh. just blame him after, that you were asking him to leve you alone, that you wanted him gone. it's fine, push all that on to him, it doesn't matter. as long as he can keep you happy, satisfied.

"i got you, i know, i know." and he's maneuvering you so smoothly. you move like water,  bending into whatever position he wants. fuck, you really need him. 

"that asshole was a let down right?" you don't want to know why he kisses you all tender and purposeful.  you don't want to know why he grips you enough to bruise. why do you like it? you look away, fuck. 

you broke up with him. 

your hands don't need to be pulling him in, your mouth doesn't need to crash into his, fuck he tastes like your toothpaste, smells like your skincare.

greed gets the better of both of you, messy, rushed, handsy. you feel him hard against you, that last bit of decency snuffed out, he's going to let you take what you want anyways, why stop at messy kisses and petting?  as he rolls his hips just right, your hand flies to his cock squeezes.   finger fumbling for the button of his jeans and endo, fucking endo-- pulls your hand away, kisses your palm, the knuckles, the finger tips.

"don't worry about that" inhales your protest away, kissing deep and hard, his tattooed hand in your hair, pulling you forward, relentless. he went a whole month without this. the softness of your lips, the wet drags of your tongue, the hunger you can't hide. the sounds you make, fuck.

his hand trails down, leaving goosebumps as evidence of his touch. the texture of his calluses hand sinful, he's so determined.  he's going to make you feel good.

he isn't a smartass about your wetness, isn't teasing and coy. moves his fingers deftly, has a crescendo to build before the sinster alarm clock drags you away from him.  he moves with finesee, knows your body so well, can tell the ache was unbearable. you're so wet for him. you needed him.

a taste a taste a taste, he wants a lick but stops himself, he'll have his fill after,  has to take care of you first,  encourages your sounds, nips at your lips when you try to hide them. he's not asking for much here, he's making you feel so good, isn't he? 

he gets to relive his favorite memory the second you grip his hair  harder and pull, the way your legs twitch, the drip of his name, the stuttering of your breath, the tightness around his fingers, the pulsing.  perfect perfect perfect. a goddess incarnate.

his goddess. 

yeah yeah yeah, you want a break.  you need to clear your head. this isn't healthy. you're so serious. 

but what is devotion without penance? 

part 2

[rel124c41]

BACK TO CHEST (SOUL TO SOUL). jade leech

Saprophytic organisms obtain their nutrients by breaking down dead organic matter.

tags: main character death (permanently tho?), dark magic, family dynamics, survivor guilt, established relationship, malleus’s unrequited crush on reader, & happy halloween

a/n: jade & floyd's mother's name siphon from @mochinomnoms

word count: 12, 802

When Malleus Draconia, prince of Briar Valley, overblotted, you were beheaded. 

Jade has been rolling that sentence in his head for the entire month. He has been trying to make sense of it. Like a student retyping a sentence, he changes it up every so often; when housewarden Malleus Draconia overblotted, you were beheaded; when Malleus Draconia, born January 18th, 202 centimeters tall, green eyes, a hundred or so years old, overblotted, you were beheaded; when Malleus Draconia, nicknamed Tsunotaro, overblotted, you were beheaded; when Malleus Draconia overblotted, Jade had to watch you be beheaded from Diasoma’s dormitory barbican. The facts do not seem real no matter how much he edits them.

Part of him deducts that it might be because beheaded is the wrong word. Beheaded implies decapitation: the head fully cut off from the body. You did not resemble a cleanly-made dullahan. The slashing, void magic Malleus Draconia sent out cut from your frontal bone diagonally down to your occipital bone. 

Jade hopes more fiercely than a child wishing on a star that it felt like a painful flick to your forehead than nothing else. He does not want to entertain the thought you might have been conscious, wondering when your hair caught fire as you suffered through incomprehensible pain. Visible brain matter stuttering with a few painful last thoughts as you were cut apart.

So, with that said, it has not really registered in Jade Leech’s own brain that you are really dead. He can find the words perfectly fine. He cannot find the meaning of that mysterious poetry, no matter how embellished or how nudely plain.

Which is why his brother has to say certain words to him real slowly. Make sure the meaning sticks. Elongating them, sometimes repeating, “Today’s (Name)’s funeral, Jade. You have to get up.” Which comes out as fuuuh-neeer-al, yooo-u, and uuuh-puh. 

Floyd has to repeat ‘get up’ four times because Jade refuses to. As he has been for the last month, he rots in bed. Luckily, Jade has always been an exemplary student so he will still be able to graduate his second year with all his high marks. Thank the Seven for small miracles.

“Cooome on, Jade. Jade, please, get up. Jadeee.”

Roughly, and then softly and sorrily, Floyd tries to shake Jade out of his pretend sleep. His brother has been doing that a lot – sleeping and then, not sleeping, but still laying in bed with his eyes closed. Who knows what is so alluring about the ebon made from flesh-shuttered windows. A week ago, Floyd had a thought that turned his stomach rotten. What if Jade has been sleeping so much so he can pretend he is still under Sea Slug’s spell, before anything happened?

He does not like to think about it. To be frank, he has been hating thinking this entire month. It makes bile poke its tiny fingers on the muscles in his throat, watching his mirror reflection lie somnolent in bed, looking halfway dead. Which is why Floyd shifts back to shaking Jade at a harsher pace – which he will eventually slow down again, feeling regret for being rough. 

“Jaaadiooo, waaake uuup. Jade. Jade Jade Jade!” 

Floyd wonders if he has to get Azul to assist him in picking up Jade. It is not that Jade puts up a struggle when getting dragged out of bed; it is just that his weight feels like dead weight and that makes Floyd queasy. He likes having Azul there. Azul dresses Jade; Floyd brushes Jade’s teeth. They both take turns taking cups of water and rinsing shampoo out of his hair.

However, Azul is not needed because Jade voluntarily opens his eyes a moment later. Dull, rusted gold and olive peers through black eyelashes. Lifeless eyes flicker, registering what the waking world is showing him.

Shoes that are worth a king's ransom crease because Floyd decides to crouch rather than kneel by Jade’s bed. His hair is neatly slicked back, gel fixating his black strand behind his piercing. Dressed in a simple black suit, Floyd gives a shy smile and whispers, “Hey.” Jade notices something that makes him close his eyes.

Floyd did his tie correctly this time.

“Hey, no goin’ back to sleep. Ya gotta get up today, Jade, c’mon. I’ll eat one of your mushrooms if ya get up. You can decide which one, whatever works for me. Hehehe, how does that sound? … Jade, please. Get up.”

“What’s the point?”

“Because you’re gonna be pissed at yourself if ya don’t. Ya gonna hate yourself more if you don’t get up.”

“Not possible.” Jade’s nose wrinkles when Floyd starts to run his fingers through his hair, combing back black hair.

“You have to get up today. If you do, next week, Azul and I’ll leave ya alone.”

“Leave me alone now.”

“Ya have to get up to say goodbye. Come on, (Name) deserves you there. You have to get up for (Name).”

Jade does the only thing that allows Floyd to know his brother is not a corpse - he sheds a tear. Dried-up, pruning corpses cannot shed tears. It comes with a double edged sword of relief and pain; Floyd watches the tear escape from Jade’s left eye, descending down over the bridge of his nose, and onto his pillow. 

Emptied of one of a thousand tears, Jade whispers back, tormented, “I can’t.”

In your absence, Floyd’s verbose brother has turned into a man of little words. As if the action of talking is just as strenuous as getting up. It is unnerving for Floyd who is so used to his brother talking so much. 

Grief shackles a body like an anchor. So used to swimming through life with dexterity, grief has tangled itself upon Jade like cutting, tangling fishing gear or stabbing, soda-can-holding plastic. Each limb is ten times heavier than it has ever been. His tongue is an iron paperweight.

And, Floyd knows. That weight has been crushing him too.

Floyd still looks towards your designated seat in Mostro Lounge by mistake. Waits with a heavy heart to see you sitting there, ordering one of their chocolate-or-caramel themed drinks. Waits for your voice to just suddenly be in his ears talking, asking about basketball practice or new menu items.

But, he has been brave for his brother’s sake. Which is why he requests, touching their foreheads together, “Then, get up for me. Get up for me.”

For the first time in the month, Jade brushes his teeth without help. He cannot manage to do his hair but Floyd gives no complaints, slicking his own hands up with opaque green gel.

Only one month after death, a body fully liquifies. Life deflating, the soft tissue starts to decay. Oval holes in the skin appear with the ease of stretched dough. Flesh’s solidity fails and melts like candle wax. In a month’s time, a cadaver is expected to expose its vulnerable skeleton. 

Against all physical laws, you have not rotted away like an apple attacked by fungi and bacteria. In fact, it would be appropriate to say you look alive. It is inappropriate though because of the downward, diagonal scar across your forehead. Magic keeps your body fresh but your grave-ushering wound remains.

They stitched you back up? Jade wonders which friend of yours had picked the top part of your cranium off the rain-soaked ground. 

Even though Ace and Deuce were the closest to you – both physically, you had thrown them out of the way of that slashing attack and emotionally, you had thrown them out of the way of that slashing attack –he cannot picture them picking it up. Neither Grim; paws are too small. Perhaps, aspiring not-yet-doctor Riddle Rosehearts had the guts in his tiny stature to scoop up the top half of your brain. Holding a hand under like one does with a napkin full of broken eggs, making sure nothing drips onto the floor. Jade grows too sick to think of the hypothetical of who stitches you back up. 

Jade only remembers shaking, cold due to the rain and the sight. A hand reaching up to his breast pocket to grab his magic pen. Then, Floyd grabbing his shoulders to stop him from making the awful mistake of firing a spell at THE Malleus Draconia. Jade forgets the rest.

Apparently, he screamed himself hoarse. Apparently, Floyd got a broken wrist from their tussle. Apparently, Azul knocked him out with a powerful sedative spell. Apparently apparently apparently. 

The following memory goes like this: waking up in bed the next morning, throat sore, thinking about what tea you might generously brew for him to fight off his evident illness. Usually in good health, Jade is a bit surprised that morning to wake up with a flu. Then, his world is torn apart. Then, Azul and Floyd explain to him slowly – they are always talking to him slowly now – why his throat burns. Not from bacteria-made illness, from screaming, from losing you.

Sometimes, just for a span of a few moments, Jade wishes another thing with childish ferocity — prays to a shooting star. 

He wishes he could have stayed in that peaceful dream — “There is no need to shed tears nor are farewells necessary! … A new world in which none shall ever experience the pain of loss!” he had said — that Malleus was bestowing upon them. I wish Malleus had succeeded in his overblot. With a similar vehemence, he wishes Malleus Draconia died. 

There is no graveyard on the northside of Sage’s Island. No one expects to bury a student. So, someone, perhaps Dire Crowley or your trio, has chosen to bury you just a bit off the hiking trails you and Jade use to venture on. A glade chosen by someone to put a coffin smack in the middle of, still on land owned by Night Raven College.

Your dead body rests ahead, laid in a virgin’s coffin. A tree line formed by an expanding corpse of trees marks a clean circle. Him, Floyd, and Azul come upon the funeral last. Right at the start of the column and rows of seats, Jade’s feet suddenly grow roots into the ground, on par with a neem tree which has the strongest taproot system. He is paralyzed by the sight: you, arms resting on your abdomen, laying in a fairytale’s glass coffin.

The casket is elegant beyond elegance. Silica sand dug from Al-Asim’s numerous deposits was smelted for the glass. Inscribed with gold, your name playfully stretches its arms across the coffin, bordering angels and swans kneeling before it. 

Your head rests on a pillow-bouquet. Speckles of white daisy, ivory white carnations, and eggshell white spider mums kiss your hair. The centerpiece flower is Easter lilies, though. Trumpet-shaped, with shooting stars of pollen branching out from the center of them, Easter lilies crowd the bouquet like purple prose in a literary work. They crowd around your resting, stitched head with delicateness. Another bouquet of identical pattern rests too in your hands.  

The fairytale ensemble makes you look like a martyr. 

You are not a martyr. Jade hates the very thought that that could become your legacy. Wrongly transcribed and reprinted, a publisher who does not know you writes you as martyr. It makes his stomach rot. Neither hero or villain, you are not to be idolized. Bread should not be broken in honor of you and wine should not be drunk in honor of you.

You were wonderfully simple, with flaws and strengths. Now, you are gone. 

“Jade, come. There is a spot up at the front for us,” Azul says softly and slowly. 

A gentle hand pushes on Jade’s back — Floyd’s hand. “They’re not goin’ to start without us.”

That’s not what I’m worried about. I’m worried that —! Jade, not really thinking well, rips himself away from his brother too fast. 

“Woah,” Floyd shouts like a cowboy whose horse has started acting erratic. His gold and olive-brown eyes flicker with concern. Once more, Floyd goes to put his hand on the back of Jade’s suit, only to feel more like he is touching stone rather than flesh. Hm?

Out of Floyd’s knowledge, students, close friends of yours, have started to turn around, and one of them happens to be Malleus Draconia — who makes direct eye contact with Jade Leech.

I can’t breathe. 

Eyes that shimmer like Sheecle’s green take their poisonous green hands, stealing oxygen from the eel-mer’s body.

Jade finds himself breathless. In his chest, his heart grows in weight tremendously. All of the hurt in his bones is pulled towards his center, acceleration like fire. Heavy as osmium. Heavy as tungsten. He feels like something is crushing him with a sleep paralysis-esque weight. Out of his nose, his last breath slithers away; out of his brain, all his thoughts file out of the building in fire-drill-fashion. Buh-bye, Jade! his thoughts wave as they go. His breath walks out like a scorned lover, never to be heard from again.

I can’t breathe. 

Suddenly, Jade’s motionless chest is grabbed by a wayward arm. His spine collides into a breathing, functioning chest. Over his shoulder, Floyd whispers to his brother, lazy drawl slithering in Jade’s ear:

“Follow along to my breathin’ pattern. Try-a match your breath to mine.”

The words are spoken carelessly, with a lazy drawl, but the intent is vigilant. Seeing his brother needing help, Floyd reacts. He holds him close enough to feel the bones of his ribcage. 

On Jade’s back, he can feel the rise and fall of Floyd’s chest — Floyd elongating his breaths to gather deep oxygen in the very bottom of his lungs. They come in slow, constant waves. An inhale causes his chest to expand. An exhale causes his chest to flatten. Each slow rotation hits Jade’s spine in measured breaths — that I’m supposed to follow along to. Match the tempo of. 

Jade closes his eyes so he can focus upon the rise and fall of Floyd’s living lungs. It proves difficult to hear the sound of breathing over the ringing in his ears, like detecting a single scent in a saturated perfume store. Earth makes itself into a curlicue of sensations. Amongst the raging riptide, Jade tries to grab his brother’s hand. Grab onto it and share the same breath. 

It takes a few moments, a continuous rise and fall. Deeper lungfuls of oxygen push at his spine; heavier exhales stir through his three-piece earring. In. Out. Jade is trying. In. Out. In. Out. 

He breathes in through his nose and out his mouth until he can complete the cycle of in and out with a skip between the steps. When he takes his first complete breath, eyelids fluttering open, he sees only the back of Malleus’s haircut and curling horns that hook up like antlers. As he studies ebony locks cascading into layers, Floyd whispers in his ear, “We don’t gotta go up. I’ll stay back with ya.”

A coward down to the bone, Jade nods his head. Well, not always a coward; he is quite a capable eel-mer. In this particular setting, he finds himself to be as cowardly as the lion in The Wizard of Oz. For this month, he has felt that only the worst traits of his personality have survived the aftermath of a torrential blot-storm. 

He lets Floyd push him down to sit at the last row on the right. Your friends in Savanaclaw and Pomefiore are in the back rows as you are not too close to either. Diasomnia and Heartslabyul are gathered close to the front. The remaining dorms are in the middle. 

Ebony locks styled into a jellyfish cut sit in the second row, left side. If Jade looks straight, he can completely dispel Malleus Draconia from his eyesight. Azul moves up to the front, perhaps to tell Dire Crowley or your friends that everyone in attendance, time to start. Jade is beyond grateful for the hand rubbing circles into his spine, as if the touch keeps his breath circulation working.

There are a few moments of talking. Deuce Spade shuffles a bit closer to hear what Dire Crowley is saying; Azul gestures with his hands and when passed a paper, passes it back in rejection; Grim, who now attends in Heartslabyul, starts to grow louder in volume but so far Jade cannot catch a word. Eventually, it is Riddle Rosehearts who stands up. In his hand, the paper that Azul recently rejected.

Even though it is given an introduction, explaining the contents, Jade would have known it without prelude. Off Riddle’s tongue, your poetry falls like a meteor shower, silver fish-tails stretching with warm tenor. The title and author already given, Riddle reads:

“In a sea of nightmares, I spy a rock

Smooth, with a thousand freckles of fresh rain

The maelstrom brings inky monsters and villains

When I place myself upon your shore, I stop drowning

Across the water, you and I are on a rock, braving the storm.”

You wrote a lot of poetry. You were never good friends with Rook Hunt though; you clashed a lot with Pomefoire, unable to make friends with them. Perhaps because your poetry and beauty is different. Not very often did you string words together amorously, rather the words were desolate. 

Your persona – the cultivated, embellished image of the artist you were – was always sort of tortured and damaged. That worst of you created poetry with the rigorousness of an inventory. This one Jade knows well – you wrote it for him. You were embarrassed about it but brave enough to tell him: “I wrote something. I feel … I feel it describes us.” 

He misses those nocturnally active times in the botanical gardens. Transcendent music playing between the spaces of silence, filling you with his feelings, sharing feelings like they were heat and you too were cold-blooded. Under a gazebo of stars on the edge of the universe, you once said. A pocket of paradise stolen was found in the moments creating and cultivating with him, you once said. It feels like a dream, you once said.

Jade stands up from his seat, not able to withstand hearing another word. This gross, wrong interpretation of your work feels like dirt and maggots grinding his mouth. It is not a poem meant for a funeral. Between Floyd’s knees and a chair, he squeezes himself tight to escape. 

Bystanders expect him to do just that: escape. Floyd anticipates it too. He takes those expectations and breaks them. In a domino effect, row by row, people notice Jade drawing closer. Murmurs start to rouse awake the sleepy, forlorn crowd. 

Undeterred, Jade walks closer and closer. When he briefly passes the second row, he lets his gaze flicker over to his left. Eyes pinched together in small slices, gold and brown irises catch just the briefest glimpse of rotating horns and a sharp nose. The curious quirk of Malleus’s lip has his heart electric with lightning bolts of hate. 

Across the water, across the wave, Jade approaches you on that lone rock. He is going to save you from the grave and help you weather this maelstrom. The divide between you and him in life and death is a thin, easily breakable glass barrier. 

“Jade,” Riddle questions.

Back to him, Jade responds, “You should sit, Riddle. Your words were very courteous but I have a few of my own to say. Can I ask you to forgive my gross impoliteness?”

“No,” Riddle fumbles with his words, “no, no it is quite alright. Go ahead … I’m - I’m sorry for your loss.”

“Your sympathy is much appreciated.”

The crowd watches on with gross intrigue, wondering what your boyfriend could possibly be thinking of or what his next move might be. Is it not obvious from your poetry – he is going to outstretch his shore towards you. He does this through violent action. 

Jade brings up a fist. Jade brings down a fist. 

Though it does not give easily, the glass still breaks in fractures. Triangles and rhombuses branch out from underneath Jade’s fist. Jagged, uneven connect-the-dots shapes make up a circular pattern that splinters from the point of contact. A little less than ten pieces fall into the tomb, landing on your ebony dress and bouquet. 

Steeling himself, Jade turns his attention to your face. Gloss from the glass makes you look angelic, like a shimmer of makeup glitter. Someone has painted your lips in a dark, blood red – (“I can’t stand bright lipstick! It makes you look like a clown. Jade, you’ll catch me dead before you catch me in dark lipstick”) – which boils up Jade’s month long, hidden away anger. 

His second punch causes glass to land on your dress like snow knocked off a branch, heavy with volume. The plummeting glass is also followed by a trickle of blood. Jade pulls back his bleeding hand, hooks it underneath a section of glass, and pulls it up like one might do with rotten floorboards. Glass pierces through the material of his glove, hitting bone. He grabs another part of the coffin, snaps it off like it is a mere graham cracker, and forms a fist with shrapnel of glass embedded in fingers. Fragile glass hovering over your face breaks and showers down like freckles. Steadily, he keeps punching and breaking off glass until none remains.

When he pulls back his right hand, the leather is thoroughly drenched in a red flood. Instead of spraying bloody water in thin sheets, it flows off his fingers like a spilled milkshake. Black and red combined, Jade adds the last color to the Snow White triptych. 

Avenging, he takes the bouquet of white flowers from your hands. The stems crunch in his harsh grip; the flowers sway in their downward descent. He brandishes them down by his thigh like one might hold a sword in the midst of battle. Nitroglycerin sweat bubbles and propane sweat pops on his palm. His black gloved hand catches fire, enveloping the bouquet in a blaze that rises vindictively up to his shoulders.

As the last bits of a fire spell, done without the conductor of his magic pen, start to shimmer away in ash and smoke, Jade lets the incinerated, curled inward, black flowers fall to the ground. He takes his dominant hand and slowly places it upon your cheek.

Soft. You are so soft. I should have taken off my gloves. His bleeding hand infects your skin with a new paint. Jade puts his thumb over your lips where someone has put clown lipstick on you. When your lips part slightly under his ministrations, no breath hits his thumb. 

His precious pearl, breathless. He wishes nothing more for you to open up your eyes and dispel his worries. 

“Jade!” Ah, it seems people are starting to come out of their stupor at the display Jade is presenting. He looks vexatious over his shoulder, briefly catching eye contact with Azul. “What are you possibly doing!” Jade also manages to catch his brother breaking comatose to stand up.

“There is no need to fret about me overblotting. I have a secure lid placed on my emotions. Unlike others.”

Hurt flashes in Azul’s eyes. Jade cannot stomach to check if his insult hurt who he intended it to hurt. Instead, he gingerly lifts you in his arms. Limp, you tumble into his embrace with gravity-obeying limbs. Your neck tilts back and your toes point down in Jade’s careful hold.

“Jade!”

This will prove difficult with both my hands holding them and no magic pen as a conductor. It is the only thought in Jade’s head as his brother shouts his name. Worry rarely crosses his twin’s face with such an intensity; most would judge it as anger. Ah, I am really being so impolite today. Sorry Floyd. The starting sparks of a teleportation spell start to pop around his shoulders and torso like fireflies. 

With a deep breath, Jade disappears in a supernova. 

More or less, Jade Leech has returned to being himself. Verbosely polite and formal; eager to lend a helping, subservient hand; jumping right back into the schedule he has: classes, duties for Azul, Mountain Lovers club activities, etcetera. He is a different picture of the man laying in bed, stricken with your absence; now, he has returned to the man he was in your presence. 

Is it because you two are reunited in presence? That old tale of Hercules and Meg, interlocked souls, finally touching again? Are you reunited? Azul cannot be certain that is true. Nobody has been able to locate your body since that day. 

Behind his glasses, Octavinelle’s housewarden traces the motions of his vice. He cannot see Jade’s expression, only scrutinizing over his back as he pens the order of a customer. It is a week after your uncompleted funeral. Azul’s stomach turns sick, watching Jade work effortlessly in Mostro Lounge, not knowing where Jade keeps your corpse. 

Corpse … All his limbs shudder at the word. It could be hidden under his own bedroom’s floorboards or locked away in Ramshackle with your three ghost companions. You could be anywhere.

Every thought Azul has on the situation makes it feel like salt and ice are colliding in his abdomen in a hissing burn. So, he decides to stop thinking about it. Which is why he is almost grateful when Jade comes up to him, distracting his mind from slipping into darker speculation.

Hand on his heart, Jade says, “Table Fifteen is requesting your presence. They have a question about one of our discontinued menu items – the salmon and lemon-ricotta pasta. I already divulged about the excess supply getting thrown out because of low demand. However, your presence was requested nonetheless.”

“Ah, thank you, Jade,” Azul says. It is just the distraction he needs before he thinks about anything more ghastly. Stock issues and dining will not haunt him with goosebumps and night terrors. He starts towards Table Fifteen.  

“Though … I can return and take care of it, if need be.” 

It is that odious sentence that gives Azul pause. Because that is exactly what the old Jade would offer, using a bit of rough, predatory treatment to de-escalate an issue. Same old Jade Leech, hiding a corpse somewhere on campus … who even knows if your body is on campus. 

“No … No, you are dismissed from the issue. Do whatever you please for the rest of your shift.”

“Very well. If you’ll excuse me.”

I have to go make preparations, Azul thinks as he goes to greet Table Fifteen. I don’t see it as necessary but, Azul glances one last time at Jade as the distance between them grows, Jade’s spine once again all he sees, I should prepare for the event of him overblotting.

Saprophytic organisms obtain their nutrients by breaking down dead organic matter. Fungi, bacteria, and water molds all have an exclusive diet of nature’s cadavers. In the simplest of terms, they eat death to sustain their own life. 

Not all mushrooms are saprotrophs. After all, mycorrhizal and parasitic and endophytic mushrooms have a different diet; it is just that a majority of the mushrooms one finds, one will find them living among them dead. As active decomposers, they refuse to let death be finite. As Jade opens his terrarium, chip-esque mushrooms that mimic the look of a body’s heat signals, he recalls fondly how saprotrophs are the easiest to cultivate. 

He takes out the turkey tail mushrooms, ripping them from their roots. Well, mushrooms have no roots but the image is still true. Turkey tail mushrooms are fascinating – they look so much like thermal heat vision, little branching waves of red, yellow, and white, thus making them look alive. And, they have a history of being used as medicine.

So vigorous with life yet bloated after a meal of death. 

Jade opens the book on his desk in the botanical gardens. People always chastised him for his love of mushrooms. If he had an affection towards flowers or perhaps even pretty yellow weeds, he supposes it would not be as frowned upon. He has always been this way, preferring the ugly duckling over the swan. You were of a similar disposition. 

Around his work station, an incense holder burns wisps of Worm’s Wort – which can dull the odor of anything. He flips through pages at a languid pace. From the window panes, moonlight slithers down a thousand maggots and makes their congealing home on Jade’s desk. Interlocking light lies down to rest as Jade stays awake into the night.

I’m so tired. The thought seeps in like a maggot in the ear of a cadaver. Numerous times, Jade changes his pair of nitrile gloves to rub at his eyes, warding off sleep. Moonlight maggots crawl over his skin.

It is only after his sixteenth failed potion (eighty-first if you count the others he has made in the past six nights after your funeral) with the wrong color, wrong texture, or wrong smell, does Jade’s head start to slip off his neck. On the verge of burning out, eyes blinking close, the desk rushes towards him like ground to a meteor, about to kiss his nose and face with pain, and – you catch him in your hand despite the smoldering sting of touching a meteor.

“You make and pick the strangest beds to fall asleep in. I can’t take my eyes off my Jade for a second, can I?” 

Jade blinks to see you resting next to him, forehead on your forearm which lies on the table. His cheek is warmed by your right hand which acts as a bridge between his flesh and the desk. Even though some of your hair is in the way and the left side of your face is shielded in the cradle of your arm, Jade can see it clear as day. There is no scar threading itself across your forehead. 

You give him a warm smile and Jade, who is a cold-blooded creature, replicates that warmth. The last exhausted fuses of energy left in him lift up his lovestruck lips. “Tired, baby,” you ask him.

“Mmmmh, just a bit. I have been at this for quite some time.”

“We should head back to Octavinelle then. Can’t have you knocking over a potion in your sleep.”

“No, no. Let’s stay here a little longer.” To bask in your presence, Jade needs that to a higher degree than he needs water or air. “Don’t go so soon.”

You are dressed in your school uniform. It has all of your soul’s idiosyncrasy in each article. Not really enrolled in Night Raven College, therefore lacking a uniform, you wear a leather jacket without pockets and a grid pattern collared shirt. The sleeves of your button-up gently pull away from being sandwiched by his cheek and desk. You busy yourself with brushing strands of black hair into its correct placement.

“Okay, okay. We can stay here for a while, but you’re definitely going to have a sore neck and sore shoulders in the morning.”

“Pamper me tomorrow?”

You hum, considering it. By now, most of the mismatched, colored tresses have been tucked gingerly behind his ear. You follow the diamond outline of a single sturgeon scale with your finger as you say, “If the price is right.”

Jade's smile grows stupid at that, showing just a sliver of his teeth. You always did like poking fun at his Octavinelle habits. Allowing himself to melt under your ministrations, he murmurs, “Anything for you.”

“Happy to do business with you then, Mr. Leech.”

You move the nail of your index along diamond scales’ edges, content to do as he says. Stay here a little longer under a gazebo of stars. Sevens, it might have been cheesily poetic what you said in the past, yet Jade agrees in totality with your poesy. The universe has collapsed, burnt away worries and responsibilities, and all that remains of creation is you and him. 

Jade lifts his face so the hand playing with his earring falls over his mouth. With pouting lips, he plants a field of kisses on your palm. Such a warm palm. Your hand smells of raspberries and whipped vanilla from a foam soap you were particularly fond of. Jade can even smell it over the Worm’s Wort. And, Worm’s Wort – that is meant to keep his potion-making a secret – is an overwhelming, astringent scent that blankets other smells with high efficiency. 

Everything, even his nose, narrows down to you. It is not an unpredictable feat. Azul once said your voice drags him out of any task with the ease of a siren working to drown a sailor. Which is why he hears you clearly even as you mumble, “Oh, I have this poem I want to workshop with you.” 

Jade mourns the loss of your hand when you move energized. Leaning back in your stool, both hands fall behind you to grip under the seat. You throw back your head, conjuring all the verses up in your head. When you tilt your eyes to look at Jade, you have this grin on your face that balances on the fence of being sleazy with gross intent or being liberative with genius intent. Like you will either tell him you found a dead animal or you found the cure to cancer. He is all ears for whatever you throw. 

He is only thrown for a bit of a loop as you swing your feet to the side and leap off the stool. Not perturbed over your body but rather an article of clothes. The noose around your neck is a blood-red tie with a stark white pattern of skulls upon it, mimicking the look of cut-out paper snowflakes. Patterned by two distinct rows: skulls connecting forehead to forehead then skulls facing the viewer. It vanishes from his sight as your back faces him. 

Out of your mouth, poetry diffuses in the heavy, wet air of the botanical gardens. 

“Wake up. (your feet carry you out towards the stretch of cobblestone, then playfully, you turn and disappear behind large, flowing leaves and unusual flowers)

Door Death, I knock upon thee (“(name)?” jade springs up, a deep fear swimming through him because you are out of his sight)

I ask the eternal question (when he pushes back the large leaves and peculiar flowers, you are no longer in that same spot; his head moves on a swivel, looking for you)

Has my life all been a dream? (your voice carries on the eastern air)

Has all my life been a dream? (your voice carries on the western air)

The eternal question unanswered (pressure falls over his eyes and heart, where are you!)

Door Death, I knock upon thee (a finger taps his shoulder-blade)

Wake up.”

When Jade turns, your embrace retreating slowly, you are holding out a solitary Easter lily out towards him. The gesture plainly tells him to take it. A white trumpet-shaped mouth yawns at him, five or so tongues of yellow pollen sticking out. It looks so correct in your hold that Jade almost doesn’t want to accept it.

Heart knocking with lingering desperation, he takes the Easter lily in hand all the same. In replacement to his palm, he rests his knuckles to his avalanching chest, careful of the flower in his caress. Before he can comment on the verses, you beat him to the punch. “Don’t do anything you’ll regret; my Jade isn’t stupid.” 

He chuckles at that, eyes squinting with mirth.“Don’t I always say you should set your expectations upon higher platforms when with me?” 

“My expectation towards your stupidity or your intellect?” 

“Oya? I’d prefer the latter.” A teasing eyebrow is raised.  

However, you grow grim like this is a matter of life or death. You twine arms around his neck and ensnare him to lean down to your height. In your eyes, a maelstrom of mental unease rages and causes your hues to appear milky-gray with worry. Under the concern of your bruised eyes, Jade responds, “You think I’m making a rash decision? Or perhaps, one that is not fully educated. I assure you that I have rigorously studied this.”

Your mouth quirks. “I think you are choosing the wrong method.”

“Then, enlighten me please.”

You lean close to him, nose to nose. Unlike the sweetness of raspberries and vanilla, your breath is something foul. Cadaverine and putrescine scent that he can only compare to the smell of his mushrooms at peak rot. Jade cannot focus on the scent because your voice hypnotizes him. 

Slowly, you recite a song like it is poetry. “A dream is a wish your heart makes; when you’re fast asleep; in dreams you will lose your heartaches; whatever you wish for, you keep.”

Whatever dust of happiness is holding Jade’s lips blows away. The frown cuts his features. It takes a great deal for him to respond over the commotion of rain and lightning storming around in his ribcage; he only manages one word, perfumed in hurt and hate. “Him?”

Your next breath smells like mint.  He imagines it would be something lovely to taste in a kiss. “I trust him. He is dear to me.”

Hate and hurt dull Jade’s casual loquacity. “But he hurt you.”

“So have you.” Now only hurt remains on Jade’s tongue. You do not let him refute, listing off, “So has Riddle, so has Leona and Azul, so has Jamil, so has Rook, so has Vil and Idia, so has Sebek, so has everyone that has known me. What is one more scar?”

It is the harsh truth, Jade knows. Magicless and fragile, you have been in the infirmary as often as an alcohol back to the liquor cabinet. Nothing worse than scratches and one broken wrist, nothing like this, Jade wants to desperately argue but your eyes silence him.

“So please,” you continue. “Please, give him a chance … You know, I’m still so sad that I never got to arrange that joint club meeting – Mountain Lovers and Gargoyle Research Studies. I think it would have been a peaceful walk at night, looking out for mushrooms and gargoyles. 

“You two are so alike. It amuses me.” This truth takes its knife and thunders itself into Jade’s gut. Maneuvering with incredible dexterity, truth stabs into the eight tic-tac-toe regions of his abdomen, cutting deep red mouths into pallid flesh that tell him: yes, this is a truth. We love the same person. Jade does not voice this growing pain. 

“I assure you, it is beneficial to have full faith in me. Have I ever made a split -choice decision? Do I not map out everything ahead of time? Besides, failing to my weaknesses in magical areas is not something I’m inclined to do, my dear.”

“Consider it. Anything for me, right?” 

Ah, how villainous you are. To use his own words against him like that is a quality he both adores and loathes. Jade maneuvers the Easter lily so it sits in his hand like a cigarette. A loving hand raises up to one of the arms entwined around his neck, rubbing along the sleeve, as he slyly objects, “Surely you can understand my hesitation. After his -”

“I almost died –” Jade’s heart stops beating, fear is a powerful clog to all his heart’s arteries. You continue softly, “ during Azul’s overblot. What happened –”

“Let’s not talk about it. Just trust me.”

“Jade.”

“(Name).”

“No matter how your heart is grieving, if you keep on believing, the dream you wish will come true … Please, consider it for my sake.”

“... I will play around with it in my head … No promises that I won’t crush it like it’s a bug.”

The tone of the conversation turns light. “I hope the sound of it buzzing annoys you.”

“How cruel of you.”

“Ah, NRC has really rubbed off on me. I’m just too wicked.” A laugh breaks your lips.

“The worst. Worse than the worst. Vile.” Smiling with a mouthful of glass, shark-like teeth, Jade finally closes the gap between the two of you. The scent of mint too enticing and the sight of you too dopamine-inducing, he has to kiss your lips until you cry or moan. It is in his biological nature. 

The gazebo of stars rebuilds itself. Each cedar wood paneling falls back into perfect placement. Yours and Jade’s lip find all the old familiar spots of pleasure; first just lip fat smooshing together until you both in perfect sync open your mouths to each other. It might be seen as tedious already knowing the moves but Jade thinks it is a testament to how truly made for one another each of you are.

And, of course, he never allows it to get boring. Tongues like magma flowing in combining rivulets, Jade takes to moving his hands down past the curve of your shoulders to the side of your cheeks. He tilts your head in the opposite direction of how he moves his, deepening the kiss. 

You grip the back of teal strands and real pain ignites on his skin. Pain made by your physical grip. Jade follows along to mimic that harshly loving gesture. However, when he rests his fingers to cup the back of your head, he stumbles upon a scar line. A few inches above your nape. It lies like a jagged river cutting apart two pieces of land.

A warning bell blares in Jade’s mind. The sound causes him to break away. It is not buzzing though, like you were predicting. 

Night Raven College’s clock chimes twice, deep in the bowels of dark, interlocking hallways. It knocks on Jade’s skull and pulls him away. When he lifts his head off the desk, blinking at the sight of potions, his shoulders and neck are incredibly sore. 2 A.M. Two chimes after all mean 2 A.M.  The air is so thick with Worm’s Wort that he almost chokes on it. 

He does end up choking. Not on something as flowy as Worm’s Wort smoke. Rather, he chokes on something rather salty and dangerously watery. 

At 2:47 A.M, Jade Leech walks into the Diasomnia dorm.

At 3:08 A.M, Jade Leech walks out of the Diasomnia dorm, a deal made.

Floyd wakes up facing an empty bed. This is not entirely odd; Jade has a scheduled A period while Floyd opts to keep his first period free. With thick fog still lingering in his brain, it does seem a bit odd not to see Jade because for the past month he has remained in bed. But – Jade is doing better. What gives Floyd pauses is the lingering thought: did I hear Jade come in at all last night? 

Floyd is a light sleeper, always has been, so he should have been able to hear him at least enter the dorm last night or exit the dorm this morning. He doesn’t even think he heard a ladybug on the creaking floor; all of Octavinelle was unnaturally still last night like a graveyard. Before he can ponder longer on dead silence, his phone rings. 

What Azul hisses over the phone has Floyd kicking his covers like they have caught fire. “Tell me you know where Jade is. Tell me right now; where is your brother?”

From point A to point B, Floyd and Jade Leech’s dormitory to Mostro Lounge’s VIP Room, the distance is about eight minutes for a normal person. Due to their longer strides, Floyd and Jade can cut this measurement by two minutes while Azul takes the full eight. It takes Floyd three minutes to point B, as while Azul curses his ear and Floyd curses under his breath. 

Floyd knows it bad when dogmatic Azul does not scold him for walking through numerous hallways and his precious Lounge without a pair of socks, and it gets worse when Azul does not scold him for still being in his pajamas – an XL shirt with poetry in a downward pattern saying: “®, 40S & SHORTIES, BAD DECISIONS. GOOD TIMES., WORLDVIEW” with a pair of white striped, blue cotton pants – at nine on a Tuesday morning. Two Azuls speak in unison, one on the telephone receiver and one in front of him, “I think he has sealed it up with magic.”

It is a book. Just as Floyd’s hand had fallen on Mostro Lounge’s  VIP door, he had inquired why Azul Ashengrotto of all people was having such a hard time getting a single book open. A book is easy to open; a book sealed with magic should be easy too, for a mage of Azul’s talents. 

“Well, can’t ya just break it? It can’t be anything stronger than what we learned in Practical Magic?” Floyd disconnects the call as he talks; he does not need two Azuls in his ear. 

“If the charm was something from that course then of course. This is more on par with the third year Conjuration course … or Ancient Curses.”

Though only seventeen, one would think with the maturity etched in Azul’s features that he was nearing twenty-seven instead. He has a hand depressed on his face and his eyes drawn into a sharp squint. Behind the shield of his glasses, a dozen speculations and calculations dance like sparks of lightning. Floyd hates it as much as he is glad to see that incisive prowess.  

“But … it’s just a book about mushrooms.” Which is entirely true. The book that Azul’s stare is burning a hole through has written plainly on it: Chanterelle Dreams, Amanita Nightmares. 

When considering current events, the title causes Floyd’s stomach to turn inside out. However, it is something Floyd has seen Jade read before Malleus’s overblot. It is just a boring book. A boring book that for some reason won’t open.

Azul verbalizes Floyd’s inner doubt, “A book that Jade left behind. A book that is not opening no matter what elementary magic I throw at it.” 

Left in the botanical gardens. Left there overnight when Jade said he was going to be right back after tending to his terrariums. Getting back into hobbies was a sign of healing from trauma, right? Floyd feels like the skin of stomach is not only inside out but being torched by fire.

“I‘ll open it. I’m on the same level as Jade. Can’t be too hard.” Just as Floyd starts walking up to Azul’s desk, he is stopped. 

“No! No … we shouldn’t risk your health if this takes something more to open.”

Vexation falls on Floyd’s face. His teeth displayed and brow crinkled, “Huuuh?” He stomps over to the desk. “It’s Jade magic. It ain’t gonna kill us.”

“No, but it might drain one of us. And,” Azul hesitates. But when Floyd slams his hands down on the VIP desk, determinate coals burn in his sky-blue eyes. He stares down Floyd without a single flinch. “And you run the fastest out of the two of us, so we cannot risk your energy.”

It takes a moment for him to back down. Reading the map of the plan on Azul’s expression, it comes to Floyd’s attention what exactly Azul is hinting at. “Fiiine.” Floyd’s dominant hand still crosses up to rest on his right shoulder. “Doesn’t mean I’ma be happy about it though.”

“Trust me, neither am I.” And he really isn’t. This entire situation leaves a bad taste in his mouth. 

On the ledge of Azul’s desk rests his staff. The octopus’s bulbous head keeps it steady on the surface. Authentic silver shines elegantly under the expensive lighting. Between the nest of curling tentacles, Azul’s gray gemstone sits, ready to be utilized. White gloves wrap around the sleek black handle.

When Azul holds his staff above the book, Floyd interrupts, “Ma called me two nights ago and said – (Floyd sits in his bed, stricken by the sound of his grown, emotionally shielded mother crying. The sound of her sobs feel so artificial in his left ear, like hearing a creature trying to mimic human speech patterns. Something so visceral wrong laced in the vocal cords of it. 

“Mama, Mama, what’s wrong,” Floyd pleads, about one breath away from grabbing a transformation potion and rushing to the Mirror Chamber. 

“Tell – Tell Jade to pick up his phone please – I just! I – auh – Floooyd,” his mother sobs. 

“Mama, he’s in class. He can’t pick up his phone right now. He’s in class. What’s wrong? Ma?”

That seems to soothe something in Narissa Leech. There is a slick sound of her wiping away tears, probably bringing talons under her eyelids and probably bringing her forearm across her nose. After a few tearful breath, she whispers, “He’s not sleepin’?”

“No, he went to his A period class. Mama, what’s wrong?”

“I,” she sniffles, “I had this awful dream. You and Jade were tiny and still sharing your bedrooms. I went to wake up both of you for breakfast but Jade wouldn’t wake up. I kept shaking and shakin’ him. It was like he was in a coma and just wouldn’t get up. He looked like a tiny corpse. 

“I kept calling for you and Dad, but neither of you would come help. My little baby. I kept trying to wake him up. I just tried and tried. Then, I pried his left eye open and ah!” His mother cries once more. “He looked so dead in his sleep!”). – and I haven’t been able to stop thinkin’ ‘bout it,” Floyd finishes.

It is very rare for either of the twins to show their fears. Fear is a delicious seasoning that gets you devoured in the Coral Sea. Though it wears a mask on Floyd’s face, fear is still evident in his voice despite the steadiness of each syllable. Sometimes friends can just measure how much fear the other has, even when it is not shown.

Azul frowns sympathetically. He has only really had his mother and step-father; worrying about a sibling is uncharted territory for Azul. However, if he had friends with a bond as close as a sibling relationship, it might be Floyd and Jade. It just might. 

It probably is not though. Probably.

“Since we were little, your brother has always been capable. Both in his magic and in his wit. Even … even in this instance, I doubt Jade will ever make a decision hazardously.” Which is exactly what worries them; Jade is brilliant, who knows what an odious mixture of intellect and grief could end up making.

Azul touches the octopus’s forehead to the cover of Chanterelle Dreams, Amanita Nightmares. In reaction, the room explodes with the power of a violet tornado.

“Fuck,” Floyd shouts as wind body-checks him like a obese linebacker. 

Azul’s hat flies off his head. His glasses would risk being magnetized into the same wind-polarity if he tilted his face away from the shimmering violet. However, Azul does not wither even once at the tremendously powerful locking spell. The violet that stains his face like grape only hones him into the irrefutable fact that this is Jade’s magic. Despite being on the verge of being knocked over by it, the realization fills Azul with relief. 

Floyd’s violet nails scrap lines into Azul’s desk but Azul does not twitch out of his resolve. Papers lying on his desk go airborne. The housewarden grits his violet teeth so hard that he risks breaking his jaw, his mole stretching down with the shape of his grimace. 

C’mon, c’mon! Slowly, the tentacles on Azul’s staff start to unfurl from their comatose state. His gem stone and the octopus head remain fixed to the handle unlike the squirming appendages. Silver metal moves fluidly and wraps itself around the cover of the book like a starfish. 

Then, with a burst of brighter violet that fades away to nothing, chanterelle dreams and amanita nightmares reveal their faces to the two of them. Well, not to Floyd. Temporarily blind due to the atomic explosion, he is wiping his eyes with his knuckles, blinking away little spots of endless black and blinding white. Which is why for a vital moment, Floyd misses the look of absolute horror that paints Azul’s face.

“Th-This –.” As the tentacles of his magic staff congeal back into their normal state, Azul sets the handle’s end down on the ground. Uncoordinated, it tumbles to the ground just as Azul picks up the book, holding it close to his chest.

“Wha? What’s in it? Shit, this kills,” Floyd hisses, hunched over. A stray tear falls down Floyd’s left eye as he slowly straightens out. “Stupid Jade.”

With each page flip, Azul’s face turns a lighter shade of white. When a hand reaches out to grab the book, Azul slaps it with so much force that Floyd groans in pain. 

“C’mon, let me see,” Floyd whines. It is not a childish whine but more of a warning, he is going to get violent if Azul does not hand over the stupid book now. Floyd grabs the desk and leans over the top, trying to get a glimpse of whatever Azul is hiding. All he sees is paragraphs of text and a block where an image is drawn.

He does not get to know what the image is because Azul slams the book shut and demands with urgency, “Where is your brother, Floyd?”

A dragon’s treasure is guarded and hoarded with a shield-and-sword-heart acting as its knights. Malleus has found his treasure to have become his memories of you. If each recollection was a shiny ruby or bright diamond, Malleus puts them all in an isolated, inaccessible cache. In times where comfort is needed, he returns to roll a precious gem in his talons, moments of just you and him unshared with others playing in his mind. Right now, Malleus rotates a rose quartz.

This particular rose quartz was formed by magma crystallization as all are. The time period it was formed in was before you knew his true identity. 

You two are perched miles above the ground, on one of the eastern turrets of Night Raven College. You curl into your notepad as Malleus takes in the scenery. 

He took you up here by teleportation. You have improved in leaps and bounds from your first time being maneuvered about the earth by a teleportation spell. Unlike your first time, you only gag now rather than puke. After a spell (not performed by his hands) of dizziness, you two took your seats upon the roof. Meters in front of you lies a single gargoyle. Wingspan extended out and the spine facing you. 

He has already explained it to you in great detail, and you listened. Really listened. So used to be stared through, Malleus has recently been finding his ears turn pink at how you look at him. Tonight, he has cut off his presentation earlier than normal. Bashfully empty of words burnt out from your smoldering eyes.

Malleus welcomes the reprieve with gratitude. Chirping crickets and grinding graphite is the only music playing in his ears – though he can sometimes hear the jazz notes of you going no, no, that line does work, no, what’s another word for … no, too pretentious and has to keep himself from chuckling fondly.

Soon, the crickets find themselves without any further accompaniment; you have stopped writing. Curious, Malleus looks away from the stone he has been studying. His neck rolls. Rejuvenated, his pulse pounds in the taut muscles found in his throat at the sight of you. What a sight you truly are, unafraid to be here with him. 

You catch onto his unshakable staring. Tongue in cheek, pencil clenched in hand, you announce “I.” The pencil weeps under your strength. “I think I got it now.”

Malleus raises an eyebrow. “Oh?”

You tap your pencil on the edge of your notepad anxiously. Then, taking a deep breath, you read your haiku:

“Apathy on stone

My prince, do not reveal tears

Gargoyle, keep your face.”

The look you give him is uneasy. He imagines you are anticipating harsh criticism, writing a poem on a subject matter he is so endowed in. Rather than criticism, the only thing in Malleus’s heart is a quick skipping beat.

You have such a way with words that it leaves his spellbound despite the unequivocal fact that you are very magicless. The words seem so knitted together for his especial heart. His own face of stone. However, knowing you do not know he is a prince, he considers the five-seven-five syllable poem and covers up his growing blush with one inquiry , “tears?”

“Because gargoyles are waterspouts. So, I wanted to layer an emotion to the functionality, the rigid job.” For a moment, you consider the poem in your hand then your mouth moves a mile a second. “Ugh! Truthfully, I wanted to say ‘a prince must never cry’ so it can keep the chain of commands like ‘keep your face’ but then the line would only be six syllables! Ugh, I hate haikus! I can’t write a single good one.” 

You look about ready to crumple up and toss the note away with hatred. It would not be surprising, you do this a lot. Enough to the point where Malleus has a collection of crinkled up poems — “If you want them, you can have them. They fucking stink though,” you had first bemoaned when Malleus first asked to keep your workshopping words. This one though, Malleus wants you to be proud of it.

“I happen to think it is quite beautiful, spellbinding almost.”

The way your eyes shimmer when looking at him leaves Malleus choking on the night air. He continues despite his temperature rising in his gut and nape.

“The first and third lines feel impersonal, but the middle line is soft. It is the gentleness sandwiched and withered away by the stone. Despite the cold exterior, there is a heart in there.”

The way you look at him — all the ways you look at him, but even more so now — has him falling helplessly in love with you. Stars blaze in your eyes like he has opened up the jaws of the universe and plucked your favorite part of the cosmo down for you. He would do so for you. He would do so much for you – divide the ocean down the middle, change the phrase of the moon, or tear the sky in two. Wounded so tightly across your finger that it surely cuts off circulation. You look at him so sweetly, bathed by the night’s glow. Malleus bites his tongue bloody to keep from telling you that you have the prettiest eyes. 

“That’s — That’s actually really a revolutionary way to look at it. I —,” you glance down at your work, “I really didn’t have the optimism to see it that way.”

“You should be more prideful of what you create. Your work too has a heart despite its cold exterior, even at its most tortured.”

“Stooop, I’ll blush.” You raise a hand over your eyes but a sleazy grin is underneath your fingers. You enjoy praise a lot.

“I am just being honest with you, Child of Man. You always asked me to be.” He pauses then asks, “however, may I inquire why use the word prince?”

“I don’t know. Don’t they seem regal to you at times?”

“Hm, there seems to be a resemblance.” 

“They remind me of you a lot. Regal. Ah, not that you’re a prince though … What’s that grin for? Don’t tell me I inflated your ego.”

“Nothing of the sorts, Child of Man.”

“Ah, whatever.” Despite your grumbled tone, you flip to the next notebook page. It is the first one he has seen you save rather than tear up. 

Rain pitters on the building, starting out soft like the languid pop of popcorn in a microwave. No, not on Night Raven College’s roof. Rainfall taps like fingertips on Diasomnia’s dormitory, and Malleus realizes it is time for him to put this rose quartz back in his treasure hoard. When his and Jade’s eyes meet across the room, his breath grows thorn in his lungs. Now is not the time to reflect.

From the towering polygon windows, the icy clouds heavy with rain are just barely visible through the shower sticking to the panes. Worser weather is certain to come like an expected guest. Malleus, tongue heavy, announces, “All that is left now is to retrieve their body.”

Diasomnia’s lounge has been cleared of all its furniture and rugs. Tables teleport away and rugs roll themselves up. Black leather couches and chairs are depressed tightly on the southern wall behind Jade and Malleus, blocking the entrance. Not that they are necessary barricades when the bombay blackwood doors are locked firmly with ancient magic. 

It is set in motion to take place in the lounge’s heart. The nook bordered by two grand staircases and twenty feet below where Diasomnia’s throne resides. Upon the cement ground, illuminated by no light, lies a circle of complex patterns and symbols made of thorns. In the middle of linking sigils, Octavinelle’s vice-housewarden stands with an apathetic, stone face. The same expression he had worn when he and Malleus made their contractual deal. 

He keeps his cards so close to his chest, you once bemoaned on your nightly ventures. Malleus remembers it well; you were reaching tear-out-your-hair hysteria due to cooking a meal for Jade Leech and not receiving a clear glimpse into his opinion. He’s impossible to read!  Your teeth flashed with frustration. 

It is an appropriate analogy. Like an experienced gambler, Jade knows not to leave his hands vulnerable to any ill-intent strikes. At first, he was incredibly suspicious of your kindness until evolution changed your kindness to a craving. With Malleus, Jade hides his cards behind his back and then shields them with an illusion spell to change the faces of the playing cards.

Making this shrewd deal was one of Jade’s finer moments. Like an experienced brain surgeon, he knows where to pull with roughness or push with softness in the intricate webbing of nerve-endings. Using survivor’s guilt as keen forceps and using his own signature spell as hooks, Jade performed a deal Azul would have been praiseful of. 

Which is why he will comply with the terms, because he has already prematurely agreed to them. Green eyes watch him pull black gloves carefully from his hands. He folds them once, pockets them, then unclips his magic pen from his breast pocket. A collision of two stars bursts in bright colors on the surface of Jade’s pen.

From out of thin air, you appear. You fall into Jade’s arm with all the grace of a dead body. Jade catches you in a dancer’s standard dip. Limp, your neck stretches as far as it can while dangling strands of hair point down at the ground like a thousand knives. 

He plants a gentle kiss on your cheek. Mourning and love mix in his heterochromic eyes. Jade takes to silently brushing away the pieces that cover up your forehead’s scar as if to almost say to Malleus who watches Jade lift you bridal style: look at what you did to them, look. 

Malleus’s otherwise imperative stare moves to a window. The rain is starting to get gradually heavier. When Malleus looks back, Jade is kneeled in the middle of the circle of thorns, as was pre-planned. The stone-faced prince of Briar Valley interlocks his gloves underneath the gem’s handle base instead of just holding it in one hand.

“No matter what you see or hear, your focus must never flicker from the Child of Man. A single interruption is a breakage in a dam of irreversible consequence. I ask you to heed these words carefully … Jade.”

“Of course.” Curt and clip, Jade’s confirmation is nothing more than contractual obligation. 

The vines from the head base to gemstone bring to shift. Two interlocked vines rotate in a downward spiral, dancing around one another. 

“Then, let us not waste another second.”

The spindle’s wheel starts to spin. Slowly at first, it moves at a pace where one can keep track of the mismatched sized spokes. Gradually, the spindle picks up pace. Inner spokes start to move in a heartbeat-esque pattern, up and down from long to short to long to short. Bombay blackwood twirls; the natural grain melts together into one smooth surface. It keeps picking up pace, twirling faster and faster. It is now impossible to distinguish where the spokes lie as they all melt into nebulous black. Accumulating to its peak, Malleus’s spindle moves so swiftly that it appears to slow down, moving counterclockwise. 

Wind picks up in Diasomnia as if a tornado is tearing through the stone ribcage. Malleus’s hair flies around him like ebon seaweed caught along a boat’s racing hook. The obsidian markings on his forehead stay relenting to the fierce winds, tight upon his increasingly crinkling brow. Behind his pointed ears, ebon strands whip back and forth with a vengeance. 

Jade’s and your hair move in tandem, blown in the same direction. Despite the discord around, despite when Malleus starts to chant, nothing tears his gaze from you. His eyes are intent on you like a mere blink would cause you to dissolve into seafoam. Despite the lighting hitting the ground, he keeps his stare. 

A breath later, the lounge is plunged into green. 

On the tongue of a stone bridge, Floyd and Azul appear out of thin air. Not entirely out of thin air though; around their shoulders, the shimmer of the transportation mirror into Diasomnia fades over their bodies. Rain smacks them in the face with a grievous scorn. Azul loses his footing temporarily but Floyd catches him by the elbow.

He pushes up his glasses, rain falls so hard and fast that they become more of an obstacle than a helper for sight. Getting drenched by the second, Azul stops with Floyd to watch the show of dancing lightning. “By Sevens, do you really think Draconia is overblotting again?”

Diasomnia staff and students in Mostro Lounge had started checking their phones as Floyd and Azul stepped out from the VIP room. Apparently, there was a storm brewing in the Diasomnia dormitory. Apparently, the main foyer was closed off and the vice-housewarden was evacuating students. Apparently, Malleus Draconia is overblotting a second time. Who knows if the information is reliable. All that is important is Jade was seen days ago, walking on this very stone bridge past midnight.

“I don’t care. I know Sea Slug knows where Jade is.” Floyd’s lips pull into a beastly snarl. “C’mon.” 

A cold sweat breaks on Malleus’s forehead. From the two connecting diamonds imprinted on his forehead, sweat drops. It trails down over his nose to his lips which are harshly breathing air in and out. 

Malleus Draconia has to minutely remind himself how breathing works as the tornado rips through Diasomnia like a savage bear. Pressure stomps on his chest with an iron boot. Through all his wild chase to keep oxygen in his lungs, he recognizes it not as pain but rather a deserved punishment. I’m sorry, Child of Man. It is an unheard sentiment; even if said, it would be torn from his lips and thrown yards away by the wind. 

There are many unheard sentiments chopped by the furious air. Most of them come from Silver, Sebek, and Lilia, behindthe barracked door, drowned out by turbulent winds. Harsh air chops up the syllables like a knife, turning them into incomprehensible poetry. The sentiments matter little until among them a single voice shouts, “JADE!”

Stricken, Jade tears his hell-bent gaze away from you. He does not answer loud enough to be heard over the maelstrom but the sentiment is still sincere. “Floyd?”

“Ignore it! Focus on them!!” Under Malleus’s instructions, Jade fixes the nucleus of his sight back onto you. A resurrection can only be completed with the kiss of true love. Without that passionate embrace, the body will lose the returning soul it momentarily holds. A true love’s kiss seals it back in the body. He waits for the predestined moment where he can connect your lips together with unwavering focus. 

“Just a little longer now, my love.” Jade’s lips pull into a lovestruck grin. “Soon.”

Among the wind, voices converse:

“Pry open the door!”

“We have been trying to!”

“Your hands are not broken or bloodied! You obviously have not!!”

“Malleus, this could kill you! This could kill you both!”

“ Malleus!!”

“Jade, you fuck!”

Azul shouts with all his remaining strength, “Jade, don’t do this!!”

A black star forms silently over Jade’s head. 

All of his life, he has been unapproachable. All of his life, people have found his teeth nightmarish and his eyes ghoulish. All of his life, he has waited for someone like you. You mean the universe to him; driven to the point where he would do something as forbidden as this. Malleus grips his staff tighter and Jade grips you tighter.

The black star is an abomination. Quantum processes work in rotation, lapping over each other like yin-and-yang. Ebony water shimmer in the middle of the black star while the outer ring strangles the air atoms with thorns. Atomic particles split into twos, going smaller than scientists thought possible, with the strength of the semiclassical, gravitational abomination. 

It thumps like a grotesque, wet heart and churns with the sound of visceral tearing. From the black thorns, the atmosphere collapses into blue-gray dust, destroying the atoms in its way. The black star gives a pained groan before it expels what it has taken.

From the inky depths of a black star, wisps of smoke start to seep down like water from overhead greenhouse hoses. The plumes of cloud hiss with head-splitting volume. Slowly, those misty clouds spiral back into a congealing mass. A split tornado swirling back into its original shape. Smoke tightens and arrows down before erupting into a cloud over your face. You swallow it; from your eyes, to your nose, to your ears, to your mouth, you swallow all the mist until there is nothing left in the collapsing air. 

Perhaps you are not swallowing; perhaps it is entering.

Jade watches intent each centimeter square of your face with glassy eyes. He waits until each wisps of vapor diffuses into the very pores of your skin. When the air is clear of the smoke, he brings up his right hand to move hair that has fallen over your features.

Onto the skies of your lips, Jade Leech whispers his heart. “I love you. I cannot live this life without my heart and soul. Come back to me; where you belong, my love, is with me.” Under a gruesome black star, he kisses you. 

It is an unreciprocated kiss. When kissing a corpse, one should never expect to be greeted with tender amorous sensations. This is why Jade does not despair when he feels nothing, suctioning your lifeless lips in two kisses before pecking harshly for the third and final kiss. It is alright – he can have his real kiss soon – because the black star is killing itself. 

Collapsing air closes in a snap. Leftover blue-gray powder hangs in the air like dust particles seen from the sunlight’s rays. Slowly, green light starts to slither away, dimming in quanta measures. All is so tranquil; even the tornado winds bottled in the lounge start to dim away. Then, like your heart is trying to jump from your chest, you start to hyperventilate in Jade’s arms.

“(Na-Name) … (Name),” love washes over Jade’s tongue. You twist violently in his arms, throat and chest pounding up and down with irregular breaths. Like a cornered prey, your eyes are wild with confusion. “It’s okay … I got you. You’re safe … Oh, you’re so beautiful. My love.” 

Neck rolling back, seizure-like eyes go white and you cough out a mushroom-shaped cloud of blue-gray dust. Black blood drips down your left nostril and trails like a tear off your cheek. Exhaustively, your chest continues to punch in and out with air that misses their connection in your lungs by centimeters. If you do not find a way to breathe, you will surely die a second time. 

Not that Jade would let that happen after just getting you back. Jade maneuvers you with ease. He moves your back so it lies on his chest and whispers,  “I know it will be difficult but follow along to my breath. Feel it go in … out … in … out … in … out … there, there … out … in … good, so good.”

Your chest beats wildly like the tempo of a metal song while Jade’s chest beats with the measured drum of rhythm and blues. Ungloved skin rests, fingers spread wide, on your chest. Each groove of each other’s bones are felt. Past the layers of muscle, skin, and clothes, your lungs touch together in a kiss. Jade depresses his chest on your back, bending you into a hunch. His words are almost delirious.

“I love you. I love you so much. I love you, please see it and believe it. I would do anything for you, (Name).”

Slowly, the tempo of your lungs start to dim like the lightning, green lights, and wind do. Jade moves his hand from your chest to your left shoulder. He depresses his lips on your neck, holding onto you painfully tight. 

“ … Right where I want you to be again. Be here with me. Be awake with me. I love you.”

You capture your first real breath as the door to the lounge bursts open.

You turn, eyes wide as saucers. Behind you, Jade’s timid smiling face greets you from your eternal sleep. Another string of black blood drips down your face, this one coming from your right nostril. Your brows creases then flattens out, recognizing the face after a moment of hesitation..

“Jade?”

In response, Jade smiles with all his teeth.

Separate from you two, Malleus lies on the floor. His own heart and lungs beating erratically, panting like a dog on a smoldering summer’s day. Lilia may put his hand on his shoulder to try and vanquish the tidal wave of breathlessness but Malleus shrugs it off. His staff is knocked by his side from the explosion of the black star collapsing. Malleus uses it to push himself up on his knees. 

His heart floods with relief and love at seeing the sight of you breathing in Jade’s arms. Besotted beyond belief, he whispers lovestruck, “Child of Man.” Then, the calm expression melts off his face and reveals panic. Because that is not –!

“Jade!”

Floyd breaks into the room like a storm; shoulder-checks Sebek who is trying to reach Malleus; jumps over the furniture that prove to be useless barracks. “Jade,” he shouts again when he notices his brother has yet to turn away from you. 

Their eyes find each other across the room easily. It is incredibly hard to see in the Coral Sea, biological and environmental factors working double-time together to ensure they stayed in the middle of the food chain. Their shared beacon of gold keeps them tethered together in the sea and on the land. No one else, not even their parents have an eye similar to theirs. That’s my brother is what that single ring of gold means.

Floyd can recognize Jade as such even now at the worst of times. However, a marginal note is stapled onto the thought. That’s my brother and, right now, I’m terrified of him. It is an odious thought. Sevens, Floyd can feel the tap-dancers of bile make their merry way up his throat at this very moment. What keeps them tethered together feels more like a chain than a security line to use.

“Bad decisions, good times,” Jade reads off his t-shirt. “Hm, Floyd?”

How can he speak so calmly with that in his arms? Perhaps, that too is part of why Floyd feels goosebumps on the back of his thighs. A prey or lower predator has signals receptors to recognize danger. A cat shows its fear in a twitching tail; Floyd wonders how he must be showing his own fear. Call it animal insight but a part of Floyd knows deep down, that is not you in his brother’s arms. 

“Ja-Jaido.”

“Florido.”

Do this for me, Jade’s eyes seem to implore. Ah, you asshole, Floyd’s eyes respond. 

He walks forward through a graveyard of thorns. “They probably can’t walk that well. Gotta be winded.” Floyd outstretches his left hand; Jade’s eyes squint in gaiety and your own gape wide in curiosity. The grip Jade has around you is protective.  “C’mon, get up.”

“Thank you, Floyd,” Jade says, placing his hand on his brother’s. 

[demonic0angel]

Anger Management prompt where there is a car accident, except it's in space, between Team Phantom and The Outlaws.

(Lmaoooo this is so freaking funny bc my sister got into a car accident just a week ago. She’s fine tho, dw)

“Fuck you!” The teenager immediately screamed. “Where the hell did you learn to drive?! Go back to school, fucking dumbass! You can’t even drive, you piece of sh—”

He was then pulled back by one of his friends, who grabbed him and dragged him back to their normal looking, definitely not broken spacecraft. A girl, dressed in a very distinctive style of goth, then made an awkward face, popped her gum, and said, “Sorry about him. He has really bad road rage.”

Jason’s eye twitched. “I can see that. So what’re we going to do now? You crashed into our spacecraft!”

“Well, you don’t have spaceship insurance, do you?” The girl drawled.

Jason was suddenly reminded of why he hated Tim Drake and Damian Wayne. They were goddamn insufferable, obnoxious, annoying, irresponsible teenagers.

Jason suddenly felt like he aged 20 years in an instant and wondered if this was what Dick felt like, being so old.

Roy patted him on the arm. “Want me to take care of this?”

Jason gestured for him to go ahead, already feeling a headache. Roy walked forward and smiled charmingly. “Hey, kiddo! So, it’s not a big deal that we got bumped into— happens all the time! But we just want to know where your parents are! And why you’re out in space! And how we’re going to get back to earth, since our shipped is now wrecked. You know what earth is, right? Earth is—”

“We know what earth is,” the same cursing teenager from earlier said with a snide tone, “We live there too.”

Roy and Jason blinked.

Then Jason spat, “Well, that doesn’t do us shit! We still have a wrecked spacecraft and we’re stuck here on this moon until you fix it! Don’t think you can just fly away! We’re stranded because of you brats!”

Kori then appeared out of the spacecraft and flew down to them all. The kids all immediately stopped, eyes wide in awe. She smiled and said, “Hello, children! Is there anyway you can help us? You did wreck our spacecraft after all.”

Immediately, in the most respectful tone Jason had ever heard, the two-faced brat from earlier then said, “I’m so sorry, miss. We didn’t think that anyone would be exploring this part of space out here, so we weren’t looking! We’re sorry. We don’t have the tools to fix it either.”

Jason’s entire face suddenly wanted to break out into the nastiest glare he could muster. So not only did this kid blatantly show favoritism to Kori (even if she was definitely super cool), he also couldn’t help at all despite the fact that he completely stranded them in space after being careless with a spaceship?

Kori frowned and they all shared a look. Now what? Jason could feel the migraine get more annoying and he almost wanted to pull out his gun just to kill some kids and feel better about his shitty fucking day, when the other teen, who had pulled away the feral brat, spoke up and said, “We can call Jazz!”

“Oh yeah! Jazz! Quick, Sam, call her up!”

Roy narrowed his eyes. “Who’s Jazz?”

“My big sister,” the brat said, “She’ll fix this.”

Great. Another annoying person who would only make his headache worse and possibly piss him off even further. However, just as he finished thinking this and sharing another annoyed look with Roy, a green portal opened up and a goddess stepped down.

She was tall, with a curvaceous figure wrapped in black and blue robes, as well as a fluffy cape around her shoulders. Her hair fell down over her back, colored red like fire and sunsets and calla lilies, and her face was that of a statue, carefully designed, crafted, and admired by all. She was so beautiful and picturesque that the air around her seemed to glow like a halo.

Just looking at her made Jason’s sorrows disappear.

She blinked her fluttering eyelashes over her turquoise eyes and then asked, “What seems to be the problem?”

Her voice was so angelic that Jason didn’t even feel his headache anymore.

“Nothing now that you’re here,” Jason said dreamily.

“Oh my god,” Roy said, hand over his mouth as he stared at Jason in shock. Even Kori looked shocked and amused.

The boy with black hair shared a disgusted look with his friends. “I thought that would’ve been my line.”

[buzz-in-your-veins]

angel dust x insecure transmasc reader smut?

Hi!

Thank you for your ask! I hope I gave it justice!

-if it’s not what you were looking for exactly feel free to leave another ask with more details! It’ll be fun to do it again.-

Perfect Boy<3

Let your boyfriend soothe you.

Then work you up.

CW: Mean Thoughts, PinV, Smut, Oral(reader reviving), clit called cock.

You had been dating Angel for a few months now, and you loved it.

Angel is everything a boyfriend should be. He’s kind, give you flowers, takes you out, and takes you apart so sweetly, always calling you his darling boy as he pushes you higher and higher.

But…

Angel is constantly worried about Valentino seeing you.

It’s sweet. Really it is..

Angel just wants to protect you, keep you safe and secure.

You were always an over-thinker. And this time is no different.

“Sorry, baby boy, not tonight.”

You were barely holding on, and that sent you spiralling.

‘Am I not good enough?’

You smiled softly and told him you understand, and waved him off as he walked out, before you ran to your shared room.

You changed into Angels hoodie, and laid down in bed, trying desperately to ignore the thoughts of not being man enough for your gay boyfriend.

You weren’t entirely successful.

Tears started falling down your face as you were bombarded with thoughts of Angel leaving you for someone else, not being satisfied with you.

When Angel finished his shift, that was how he found you. Curled up in his hoodie, Fat Nuggets cuddled into your chest as you hiccuped on sobs, cheeks wet with tears.

It wasn’t rare for Angel to find you this way, but it still broke his heart everytime.

Carefully climbing onto the bed, Angel took you into his arms whilst trying not to move Fat Nuggets, and hummed to you.

When the hiccups and sobs died down, Angel picked Fat Nuggets up and set him down on the bottom of the bed, before picking you up and cuddling you into his chest.

“Hi Baby, is your head all noisy?”

You nodded wetly against his chest.

“Can you ask it to stop being nasty to my darling boy?”

Angel felt renewed wetness against his chest.

“Honey? What’s wrong? Talk to me handsome?”

You mumbled all the thoughts that had been plauging you, and Angel felt his heart break as you told him you weren’t ‘man’ enough for him to want to stay.

Angel pulled you away from his chest to look in your eyes.

“Sh sh, listen, listen to me okay Mister?”

Angel waited for you to nod before continuing.

“You are all the man I need. Every part of you is perfect. From your fluffy manly hair,” Angel kisses your head. “To these manly feet,” Angel pauses to tickle your toes getting you to giggle, “And every part in between. This handsome body, these toned manly legs, this pretty boyish face, even these adorable manly eyelashes. Every part of you is completely manly and perfect. I love everything about you, even your smelly farts.”

Angel smiled as you giggled again. He noticed Fat Nuggets had snuck out the doggy door, probably going to bug Husk.

“And you know what my favourite part is, Prince? This beautiful masculine smile you have, so don’t cry handsome, my perfect boy has no reason to.”

You’d stopped crying in the middle of his speech, and now your emotions were slipping south.

Angel of course, noticed.

“You know what else I love?”

Angel began to lift his sweater, hands caressing your top surgery scars.

“These marks of your bravery. How pretty your little pecs are, the muscle in your chest, your handsome nipples.”

Your breath hitched as Angels top hands slowly pulled the sweater of, and his lower pair skimmed back and fouth over your nipples, body jolting as he quickly changed tactics to pinch and tug on them, revelling in the pretty sounds he was pulling from you.

“This manly sthomac, allll the way down tho this handsome happy trail.”

You sucked in a sharp breath as Angel began working your pants off, still playing with your nipples.

Pants finally off, Angel continued.

“I wonder where it leads.”

You jolted as his lower hands slowly dragged around your clit.

“This pretty little cock, look how responsive it is.”

You moan and whine, body spasming as Angel played relentlessly with your cock, never letting up his administration, or stopping his words.

“Look at my Princes cock, how perfect it is to play with.”

You screamed as you came on his hand, Angel changing his rythm, gently grinding you through your orgasm.

“Fuck baby, shit.”

Angels voice was low and raspy, and you felt the spiders cock poking you as Angel moved you off his chest and laid you down, before sinking down the bed.

“Lemme taste my prince.”

That was all the warning you got before Angels tounge meet your cock, lapping at the folds around it and coaxing more sounds from you, a few times his tounge dipped inside you, but the majority focus went on your cock, podding and probing the sensitive bundle.

Your back arched as you came with a second scream.

Angel lapped hungrily at the juice that flowed from you.

Before slowing working how way back up your body, trailing kisses over his ‘perfect boy’ as he went.

“Good boy, pretty boy.”

You whined, drunk on the double orgasm and freeing feeling your boyfriend always provided.

Angel slowly pumped his two fingers in your swollen hole, thumb gently grazing your cock, drawing needy whines and pleas from you, before Angel dragged your lips into a soft kiss and pushed his heavy cock into your hole, mumbling how perfect you were against you lips.

You yowled as Angel slammed his cock in fully, eyes rolling back.

Angel repeated the movement, enjoying the noise you were making.

It didn’t take long for Angel to cum, already worked up from the earlier activity’s, and he shoved his cock as far as he could, pushing against your cervix as he did.

At the first pulse of hot cum, your eyes rolled back and you howled as you squirted over Angels cock, blacking out.

When you came too, Angel had cleaned you up and was making the bed. He noticed you were awake.

“Listen, Handsome, you are more than man enough in every way. I love you for all of you, not just some parts. I will always love all of you.”

Your thoughts were soothed as you heard the sincerity in his voice, for now at least.

Angel picked you up and laid you down on his chest in the freshly made bed.

“Sleep now prince, I’ll be here when you wake up.”

You feel asleep to the sounds of his breathing, and dreamt of a pretty blond boy with hetrochromia.

Feedback is always appreciated.

Comments are my high.

They make me write faster.

I hope you like this and it lived up to your expectations!

~Vyrus

[miioouu]

Hehhe🥴💕

Ghost with temperature play tho🥴💕(i think its temp play or kink but whateves its the same thing, i think??)

This request reminds me of the time when I used to write anime smut and I'm here for it!!! Also after some thorough research ;) I have concluded that yes, temp play and kink are the same. Anyway, hope you enjoy it, thank you for blessing us with your unholy thoughts bbg!

Tw: smut, temperature play, oral (fem receiving), orgasm denial, fem reader

The room was hot, sweat drops running down your spine and your chest heaving as you tried to catch your breath. Your body was blazing, scorching even…

The chuckle coming from between your thighs didn’t help the situation either. His warm eyes looking up at you through his long eyelashes. “What is it, love? Are you feeling hot?” He’s mocking you, for sure. And you wonder why he even bothers asking you this question, Simon would never let you talk back. In fact, he likes your silence, maybe that’s why he has his glove shoved deeply into your mouth, your drool coating it, dripping down your chin.

The room was hot, like a sauna, honestly what did you expect when your latest mission is right in the middle of the desert. Luckily though, your captain isn’t cruel enough to let you die from a heat stroke, the place he rented for you has perfect air conditioning. But your lieutenant on the other hand, he’s nasty and dirty. “Turn on the AC? We’re in the military sergeant, you should be able to handle heat” And that’s true, and you usually were perfectly fine sweating in the dry sandy air, but usually he wouldn’t have his tongue swiping at your slit, sliding between your folds to have a taste of your arousal. Usually, you wouldn’t have to hold your breath, be scared of letting out a sound, afraid that your comrades next door would hear. He took pity on you, the moments your eyes flutter, your fingers grasped his, gosh you’ve always been so beautiful to him, but something about seeing you almost slip out of conscience as you body sticks to the sheets with perspiration has really got him thinking of you as a the most beautiful angel that has ever graced the surface of the earth. “Ah, relax… I know a way to cool you down, love” He’d murmur against your soft thigh before straightening up. His hand quickly found the mini fridge, a smirk adorned his face when he saw the tray of ice cubes, that’ll definitely cool you down. He slipped one between his lips, letting it melt on the tip of his tongue slightly before going back to the place where he belonged; between your legs.

The ice cube, now a little smaller, falls from his mouth, placing it right above your bundle of nerves. The contrast between your hot body and the glacial crystal has you arching your back and a whimper of his name choked itself out from between your lips. This reaction earned you a chuckle from the man above you, his eyes shining in mischief, trying but failing to feign innocence as he kisses your inner thighs, slowly, coldly, making his way to your drenching core. Tongue still frozen, he swiped it between your folds, tasting you had him humming out loud. “You always taste so good, love.” His compliment is mumbled against your skin as he’s still sloppily making out with your heat. He sucks on your clit, the tip of his tongue draws languid circles, making sure to always add a little more pressure to that place that would usually have you hiccuping for air. His lashes flutter shut, enjoying your arousal a little too much, his nails dig in the soft flesh of your thighs. Enjoying you a little too much, his hips grind against the mattress below him. Enjoying the way you tremble and shake beneath him, not even his glove can restrain your whines for more, he can almost hear your voice in his head “More sir! Please, please, I need more, more than just your tongue” The memory has him moaning, the vibration of it making your toes curl.Oh you were so close, and he knew it.

The ice cube now long melted, the cold water running down your thighs, spilling on the sheets and whenever your skin ever so grazes the drops, it sends electricity through your body. “Still hot, hmm?” Simon teases, his voice laced with a hint of arrogance as he sees the desperation in your teary eyes. He pulls away for a minute, finding the tray again, and it isn't Ghost if he gives you warnings, right? Where's the fun in that? With that he dumps the rest of the ice cubes onto your stomach, relishing in the way you quiver and squirm, a proud smile drawn on his face.

Quickly, his hands still cold, he grabs your hips and pulls you closer to him, he hovers above you, face mere inches away from yours “What? Are you feeling cold now, sergeant? Don't worry, I've also got a way to deal with this too…”

[v3nusstardust]

💋”Kiss me”💋

Pairing : Kim Sunoo x you🤍

Genre : Fluff!:3 .. lowkey gets heated at the end tho idk what to call this🗿

Summary : Though it’s been 2 months since you started dating Sunoo, he still has a massive crush on you. All y’all ever did was hold hands, small pecks on the lips & cheeks and sometimes lean on each others shoulders. Even those things were enough to make Sunoo a blushing mess.

It was Sunoo's day off, and he surprised you by showing up at your apartment in the cutest pajamas.

You loved your boyfriend so much, he was so pure and sweet. You greeted him at the door with a hug, “sunoo! You didn’t tell me you were coming!” You exclaimed, wrapped in his embrace. “I missed you.” He planted a small kiss on your forehead, earning a giggle from you. You noticed Sunoo carrying a bag of groceries. “What did you bring?” You asked, peering into the grocery bags. “Oh I brought Mint chocolate chip Ice cream and some of your favorites.” He responded. “Wanna watch some movies?” you suggested. Sunoo nodded in agreement and followed you to your room.

You chatted with your boyfriend in your room and caught up on small things that happened recently. You both sat on your bed away from each other.

To be honest, your boyfriend made you so shy. He was so pretty and perfect and you felt like you were just.. plain. Little did you know, Sunoo felt the same way. You made him so bubbly inside, he never felt that way before, so he didn’t really know how to handle the overwhelming emotions he felt around you.

“What should we watch?” You asked, scrolling through movies. “You pick.” Sunoo replied. “Pick one! I’m indecisive” you giggled. “Okay fine. Horror movie?” He suggested, a mischievous grin on his face. “YES!” You exclaimed excitedly. You scrolled through all the available movies and picked your favorite horror movie.

As the movie started, you and Sunoo maintained a comfortable distance from each other. Sunoo's reassuring presence was everything, but you couldn't help but wonder if your relationship would eventually embrace more physical closeness. His limited free time as an idol added an air of uncertainty, making you ponder the possibility of cuddling or ever being close.

During the movie, a surge of boldness came over you. You knew Sunoo wouldn’t make the first move, plus he looked a little too interested in the movie. Slowly inching closer, you delicately rested your head on his shoulder. “I miss you.” You whispered. Sunoo’s attention went from the movie and onto you. “I missed you too y/n.” His fingers intertwined with yours, tracing soothing circles on your knuckles. “Can I have a kiss?” You asked, looking at him through your eyelashes. Sunoo met your gaze, responding with a swift, sweet peck on the lips. “I want another one.” You laughed shyly. A small giggle escape Sunoo’s lips. He kissed you again, but this time you cradled the back of his head, running your fingers through the softness of his hair.

He pulled away, leaving you with a small pout. You felt needy for more. His face was flushed bright pink.

“I’m… gonna go get your snacks. I’ll be back.” He said hastily before leaving your room.

You sighed as he left. Maybe he didn’t want to kiss you yet? Maybe he wanted to take everything slow and your sudden move scared him.

When he came back, he came back with two bowls of mint chocolate chip ice cream. He sat next to you, handing you the bowl of ice cream and your snacks. You resumed to the movie with your head on his shoulder. You couldn’t focus because your overthinking was bothering you.

In a soft, hushed tone, you asked Sunoo, "Do you love me?" His response came with a reassuring certainty, "Yes, of course I do y/n."

“Do you like kissing me?” You mumbled, but it was loud enough for him to hear. “Of course I do. Why?” Concern flickered in his eyes as he replied. “You left so abruptly earlier. I just wanted our kiss to linger a bit longer than usual. I'm sorry; I just felt a bit needy." you apologized. “No no, I’m sorry. I was afraid of messing up. You're an amazing kisser, trust me. I had to leave because... because you were making me feel .. flustered," he admitted, attempting to look away from you. The confession hung in the air, deepening the connection between you.

You carefully placed your index finger on his chin, making him look you in the eyes. The atmosphere was warm and charged with undeniable tension, hinting at the unspoken desires in the air. You inched your face closer and closer to his. You ran your thumb along his lips, Sunoo was a cute blushing mess.

“Kiss me.” Sunoo shyly mumbled. Your lips met his in a tender embrace. His hands found their way to your waist. You changed your position from sitting next to him to straddling his lap. You threw your arms over his neck, kissing him passionately. His hands were shaking, it was the cutest thing ever. He had one hand on your waist and one gently tangled in your hair. A soft whimper escaped Sunoo’s lips “I love you.”

Before you could reply, his lips slowly started to travel down to your neck. You moaned at the feeling.

“Up, put your hands up for me.” He demanded in a seductive tone, tugging onto your shirt.

You pulled away, your eyes widened in astonishment, your features betraying a surprised expression. Your face was bright red. Sunoo’s eyes were full of lust, but quickly he turned embarrassed once he saw your expression. “I-I’m so sorry! I didn’t even ask first.” He put his hands in his face, trying to hide the blush on his cheeks. “It’s okay..” you placed a soft kiss to his forehead. “I never heard you talk like that.. it took me by surprise. I didn’t say I didn’t like it though.” You chuckled. He swiftly reclaimed your lips, continuing where you left off.

(A/N : omw to my soccer tournament rn and I have to take a pre-game fat shit 🗿if there’s hella mistakes it’s Cus I’m running off a bag of Takis w no water 🗣️.. SOMEONE PLEASE SEND LACTAID PILLS.. lmk if u fw this though bcs I’ve never wrote shit like this bro😝)

[manwiththemagic]

spn s1 ep3 "Dead in the water"

more rewatch notes/commentary I have while watching!! :9

Ew Wisconsin okay...

“guys don't like buff girls.” WHO ASKED?? dumbahh person of the week. I don't even REMEMBER this episode and honestly, I blame you pal. I. Blame. You.

“be careful.” Okay so she's going to die then.

I wish I lived on a lake :(((

HELP THE SLOWMO... uhhh rip girl?? Ig..

Why does Dean look actually insane. He has like 100 newspapers, and his scribbling out faces and circling others 😭😭 i'd call the cops tbh..

Episode three, and second chick we see hitting on dean. It's just bc of his long eyelashes I bet.

LMAO “can I... get you anything else? 😏” “just the check please ☺️” LOVE YOU SAM.

The way dean immediately gives up trying to convince Sam about hookups bc lil bro is still distraught about jess. Like yeah... no way is a hookup gonna seem "fun" to a grieving man

The side eye Sam gives dean when he's telling him about how the people had a funeral for a missing person.

“a funeral?” “yeah for closure or whatever” “closure? What closure. People don't just disappear Dean, others just stop looking for them.” WOAH NELLY... I get it. Bro wants to find dad, dad to find monster, monster to be KKKKKKKKKILLED‼️

vaild.

Okay so Sam is tweaking because he wants to find John, and Dean is— NO WAY HE JUST SAID THAT. “im sick of the attitude.” DAD DEAN CHAT!! also no way he pulled the "I've been with him everyday for the past two years while you were off at school—" BRO.

Great more depressed. old. MEN.

does the loch ness monster exist?

Oh shoot broke dam!! More like... Dam I'm BROKE!!

Dean being good with kids part 1!! Also this is why I have a hard time believing he's so bad with Jack like... LOOK ST THIS.

Dean and his 3 woman in three episodes.

“must be hard with your sense of direction.. trying to find your way to a decent pickup line.” HEYOOOOO!! she ate that.

“‘i love kids’?? You don't even like kids.” “yes I do!” “name 3 kids that you even know.” LMAO NOT SAM GATEKEEPING KIDS LIKE ITS AN INDIE BAND!!! also yes he likes kids, he literally raised you Sam wtfdym?

Wait so late monsters do exist?? THE LOCH NESS IS CANON?? just not here..? Damn I thought since bigfoot was fake that would be too.

I'm pretty sure it's some ghost chick.

Yikes more dead...

“no wonder that kid was so freaked out, watching one of your parents die isn't something you just get over..” DEAN :((( I always forget he watched Mary die, cause like Sam too, he just doesn't remember it.

Dean is so good with kids :(((

STOP THEY'RE SO CUTE.

“when I was your age I saw something... anyways..” FUCK.

DWAHHH LUCAS TAKING THE PICTURE DEAN DREW ☹️

AWH HE GAVE DEAN A PICTURE!! they made a connection.

Oh shoot.. that man is so dead. “im gonna make some dinner”

OH SHIT ITS IN THE PIPES

your dead kid. D E A D. IDC tho you ain't Lucas

Ew don't dig in the dirty water. HOLY SHIT HE DROWBING. HE DROWBNIN

Damn.. and in dirty water. I could never.

Bill Carlton is cooked. Literally everyone he knows is dead now.. like damn. Wtf did he DO.

“my children are gone..its worse than dying..” MORE SAD OLD MEN OMFG.

Lucas drawing is important!!

Why don't these people ever be like “yea.. serial killer man..” LIKE A BELIEVABLE BUT STILL CRAZY LIE. "Why the FBI here?" "Serial killer." ITS THAT EASY.

Dean getting help from a kid AHHHHHHHH!!

“your... scared..? I understand.. you see when I was your age, I saw something real bad happen to my mom, and I was scared too.. I didn't feel like talking, just like you. But see my mom.. I know she wanted me to be brave. I think about that every day.” FUCK. JUST TEAR AT MY HEART STRINGS THEN DEAN. “and I do my best to be brave.. and maybe your dad wants you to be brave too.”

LUCAS YOU THE GOAT!!!

so now they are looking for the house Lucas drew and Dean like "man where tf is it?" And Sam's like "uh.. maybe let's look for the church?"

“ohhh collage boy thinks he's so smart!!” Dean the goat of this episode

Sam twitching because he doesn't know if or how he should bring up deans speech. Honestly now that I think about it Sam digs into deans personal stuff alot, mostly because Dean is jaded and hides stuff but IDK it's interesting.

“oh God we're not gonna have to hug or anything are we?” like you wouldn't enjoy that..

The churchhhhh

OMG THE BIKE. IT WAS BIG IN A DIFF DRAWING AND HERE IT IS AGAIN. omg wait it is important.

He's missing.. the kid with the bike.

HOLY COW. all the parents talking about how losing a kid is worse than death, and hey I know what canonically happens in death and uhh, idk if your right about that. Hell? eck.. ghost life?? yikes.. heaven? good but.. mehh...

Rip lil kid. Rip

HE KNEW BILLY. holy cow. Dead kid knew billy. Billy Carlton knows something is going on?? WAIT WHATS HAPOENING.

So wait is the dead kid the ghost..?

HOLY COW THAT BOAT FLEWWWW!!

Lucas having another vision??.. OH SHIT YEA THE GHOST GIES AFTER HIS MOM OR SMTH RIGHT??

THIRD TIME GETTING CAUGHT LMAOOO. “and your not really wildlife service..” HELP.

this cop made sus. Why you so mad these guys are investigating a murder?? They weird but like..

LUCAS KNOWSSSS..

This is kinda like a call forward or uhh foreshadowing to Sam's visions, which is kinda dope

LADY DON'T TAKE THAT BATH. NOT JUST CAUSE I DONT WANNA SEE YOU NAKED..

deans going back to town even after being threaten because lil kid was scared. GOAT. the goat I tell you.

“who are you and what have you done with my brother??” it's really not out of character for him Sam😭

DON'T TAKE THAT BATH LADY. YOUR DEAD. DOOMED.

oh whatever. I give up. EW MURKY WATER. CAN'T YOU FEEL IT LADY.

poor lucas.. lil bro bouta become an orphan.

LMAO DEAN THREW LUCAS OUTTA THE WAY. and Sam actually saved her 🤷

So wtf is after them. I DON'T REMEMBER.

Oh shoot puppy dog eyes Sam is back. “tell me what happened. Everything. 🥺”

More Lucas visions..

THEY FOUND THE BODY. or no? THE BIKE.

THE SHERIFF DID WHAT NOW.

No dead ghost Peter LEAVE LUCAS ALONEE!!

oh shit he did kill someone.

OH SHIT.

YOU WERE A BULLY?? EE. I HATE YOU. YOU KULLED HOM?? WTF.

dude no your daughter should stay away from you you freak.

LUCAS IS DROWNING.

Mermaid Dean 🧜

Sacrifice yourself for Lucas? Valid sheriff. Valid.

WOOO ITS OVERRRR!! MYSTERY SSSSOLVED!!

AW LUCAS IS TALKING AGAINNN!!

Dean teaching random kid his morals and tastes in music LMAO.

dean pulls yet NAOTHER woman. Are you fr?

One of my least favorite episodes tbh..

[arcplaysgames]

Omg Yosuke that's so thoughtful of you, organizing the "we ain't got dates" conciliatory orgy event for the holiday! I mean, we all know it's his in with Reverie but I am not gonna rat him out, let him shoot his shot! Literally! Or, figuratively, but-- you know what I mean.

ALSO THIS IS A WONDERFUL FUCKING DETAIL BUT this game is set in the era of flip phones, not smartphones, and the specific way that Yosuke types is emblematic of the way you would use a shitty ten-keypad for typing, and it's SUCH a specific touch.

oh my god now i'm curious how Japanese text messaging worked in that era. if i remember, I wanna look into that later.

yeah you know what that's fair you all can stay here forever. i grew up in florida is palmetto bugs, aka The Big Roaches That Can Fly. my fear is intense and well-founded.

Yosuke you lie like a fucking rug, you literally texted everyone and picked the folks. It would have been JUST as easy to invite EVERYONE to Aiya or something. You cannot fool me, Hanamura, I'm a higher level gay than you are.

TROY BAKER SING TO ME /slams hands on table

I see u blushu, Kanji. /bats eyelashes at Kanji

also the sad hilarity of Teddie knowing the social script more than Yosuke does occur to me, yep.

YURI LOWENTHAL, SING FOR MY AMUSEMENT

gdi no one fucking sings in this scene, what a fucking rip off! booo! zero out of five, worst game i ever played.

anyway, for Christmas proper, NANAKO AND DOJIMA ARE HOME AND I COULD FUCKING CRY ABOUT IT. nanako i am gonna squish ur lil round face i love you mwah mwah

anyway

GOT MY INSURANCE CARD MIGHT LITERALLY BE THE FUNNIEST LINE IN THIS FUCKING GAME, I'M WHEEZING. god the line read is so fucking good on it too, I love Kanji. I would kill for Kanji. He's the best fucking character in Persona and it's not even close.

anyway, shock of shocks, the cake is not poisonous this time and everyone gets to enjoy it (tho Naoto reveals it was their third attempt at making one, lol)

Teddie made Nanako a teddie doll and I want a fucking teddie doll, goddammit

don't even fucking worry about it, dojima, it's fine

Dojima accidentally brings up the fact that Reverie is leaving soon, which Fucking Sucks. but! it sucks less than being a human sacrifice to fuel a seal to prevent the fall of Nyx, The God Of The Dark Hour, so really, can't complain!

I am pretty sure Reverie is gonna live through all this. I think getting his ass shot by Adachi was the only chance of for real dying, so we should be good.

god, I would sacrifice Reverie for, uh, P3P Reverie in a heartbeat.

(I remembered in literally the middle of that sentence that all of my characters are named Reverie Vantas lol)

NANAKO I LOVE YOU can we finally finish your fucking slink tho, is that now allowed again?????

anyway the game is wrapping up and I am anticipating another P3P-style time skip to when Reverie leaves but

one, I am still sort of... not actively sour on but ambivalent about the entire Midnight Channel thing. I feel like the final explanation had a lot of plot holes and didn't really make sense if you thought about it.

two, this is not a game about dying like P3P was so there is a lack of finality to everything honestly, which has less bombast than i anticipated

three, I STILL WISH I FUCKING KNEW WHY NAMATAME, ADACHI, AND REVERIE HAD THIS POWER. like, the big eyeball mentioned it granted powers to those with the fortitude to traverse the hollow forest but WHY SPECIFICALLY THESE THREE DUDES ugh whatever

four, i hope the bonus dungeon boss has some fucking Shenanigans bc Ameno-sagiri just does not compare to Ryoji-Nyx and the multiphase shit that was so fun.

sigh! sigh!!!!!

I did max out Marie tho so I will see about that at some point I guess?

[valentinehorrors]

Drawn to you like you're drawn to me

(TW: Mikey POV, dude's kinda fucked up ngl, mental torture, just a sprinkle tho)

He could smell it, both literally and figuratively. It was absolutely thrilling, seeing Casey so shaky and paranoid. He could hear the cracks in the human's sanity, and could see the fear every time he realized he was being watched.

Mikey will admit, he thought Casey would question him more about his... more interesting abilities. But despite his sanity holding by a thread, the human was still not pushing, allowing Mikey to explain at his own pace, reveal at his own pace.

It was adorable.

God how he wanted to devour him whole.

If he didn't heal quicker than most, his tongue would be severely scarred by now. His own blood was meant to be a deterrent from his bestial thoughts and instincts but it was having less and less of an effect. And one human is to blame, good thing Mikey is very in control of his darker side.

...

He was hungry, he hadn't been able to hunt for a while. With the Kraang invasion looming over their heads, stress was high, his absence would've been noticeable. At least for his and his human's late night talks, he had an alibi. Casey would say whatever he wanted him to say after all.

Yes, Casey wouldn't even question it, just say whatever Mikey wants him to say. His obedient human, so precious, so stupid and all his.

He was so hungry, good thing he had impeccable control. He'll probably sneak out to eat a rat or two, but it's fine, he has it under control, it's fine.

He really did not like April.

She was annoying, and he didn't know her well enough to cast out his strings. At least she was fuel for strengthening Donnie's strings, that was the only thing she was good for.

And she was a brat. Her complaining almost made him want to break his mask just to shut her up.

And he hated how friendly she was with Casey. How she smiled at him, batted her eyelashes and flirted. At least Casey was very clearly joking, that gave him peace of mind. And when he admitted this, Casey even offered to stop it completely, how adorable. Casey cared so much for Mikey, yes he feared him, but there was care as well. Genuine care, not a joke, not just some game, genuine care.

He didn't like April. She shows interest in Donnie and in the same breath acts disgusted of him. She treats him like a toy. Using him like the entitled brat she is. Stringing him along with hope then leaving him out to dry.

And she wasn't too different with Casey, at least Casey didn't actually have those feelings, so he took all of it as a joke. But with Donnie, he was crushed and hurt every time.

He hated April. How dare she lay there, peacefully sleeping in their lair? Laid against a passed out Donnie, leading him on like she always does. Donnie for all his smarts is so very weak, all she has to do is bat her eyelashes, give him a kiss and he forgets it all the same.

Fucking brat.

He hated her.

It would be so easy, she slept over so often. Getting rid of her would be so easy. He wouldn't even eat her, he just wanted her gone. She didn't deserve the space in his stomach, she'd probably be disgusting anyway.

Michelangelo blacked out.

That hadn't happened in a while. Actually, it hadn't happened since he first ate a human.

It happened just like last time, he blinked and he was gone. Mikey found himself in a dark void, a twisted dark version of the dojo's tree stood high and large in the distance. The turtle himself was stood on an ocean of inky black that stretched on for eternity.

The second he saw the scenery, he knew what it meant.

"Fuck..."

Thankfully, he's not there long as the inky black thick waters dragged him back down underneath their depths.

When he came to, Casey was holding his wrist with one hand, the other was wrapped around the turtle, pulling him tight against the human. Said human was trembling, and that smell of fear...

Ah, that's what brought him back, that wonderful smell. He didn't even realize he was holding his kusarigama until he dropped it, Casey letting out a sigh of relief as he did.

There was only a beat after the sigh of silence before both human and turtle whispered to the other "we need to go." The sound of Mikey's kusarigama falling to the ground, caused Donnie to stir. They only heard a slight grunt from him before they were suddenly enveloped by the very shadows swimming beneath them.

The feeling was not unfamiliar for Mikey, he had used this ability before while both experimenting as well as hunting. But he'd never brought company before.

Shadow stepping is what Annabeth had called it once. The art of using shadows for transport, the shadows felt comfortable to him. Having his form enveloped and dragged through shadows never bothered him. Clearly, this was different for the human who was shaking horribly once they appeared on their usual rooftop.

Mikey immediately leapt into covering their tracks, digging into Casey's pocket and finding his phone. He then took out his own phone as he called himself from Casey's phone, answering the call and then hanging up. While doing this, the human hadn't let go of the turtle.

Once the explanation was set, Mikey's focus shifted back to his human who seemed deeply disturbed, and much colder than before, both explained his shaking. Hell, it looked like if Casey did let go he wouldn't be able to stand. The turtle wrapped his arms securely around his human.

"I have you..." He whispered, slowly lowering them so they were sitting on the rooftop, Casey needed some guiding as he struggled to move. "It's okay... You're okay... I'd never hurt you..."

He felt Casey's shaking breaths against his neck, the human was almost as cold as his brothers. Mikey's hand softly pet Casey's head, fingers running through his hair as he held his precious human.

"It might be dangerous if you're cold for too long Case..." Mikey said as he thought about getting Casey to his room. They were quite a ways, he could try carrying him but the human had quite the tight hold on him. Shadow stepping would take less than a second, especially considering Mikey was familiar with Casey's room.

Casey tried to talk, the turtle could feel him trying to move his mouth, but he was trembling so much that only whimpers left his throat. And the sound had Mikey feeling a variety of emotions, but it also led him to make his choice.

"Casey, can you nod your head?" It took a second, but Casey shakily managed to. "Okay. You need to get warm, and as much as I want to be the one to help you, I am aware that I can't. You need blankets and your room. What I just accidentally did is called shadow stepping. It'll only last a second and it'll get us to your room quick, are you ready?" Mikey explained fast and clearly.

Casey seemed to be thinking it over before he nodded. "Alright...three..."

The shadows around them became darker, more solid.

"...two..."

The darkness started to slowly flow up both of their bodies, rising like water, Casey shivered again, another whimper coming from him.

"Three."

And once again they were enveloped into the dark nothingness of shadows. In the blink of an eye, they were in Casey's room, Casey was shaking violently but was picked up effortlessly by the mutant(?)

The human was laid in bed but struggled to let go of his turtle. Mikey paused, first he took off his mask, letting it hang around his neck. He doesn't need it to drop his mask, but its visual significance is something he knows Casey appreciates.

"Casey, I need you to let go so you can properly get warm."

He shook his head. Mikey couldn't help the small genuine smile that took over his lips.

"Casey."

He shook his head again, his arms trying to pull him closer.

"Casey, you can barely move on your own, I need to cover you in blankets." He didn't stop the slight warmth that tinted his monotone voice from being known.

Casey just hugged him tighter.

Mikey just sighed and laid down with Casey, holding him as he tried to at least semi get a blanket on Casey. "I'm too cold for you Casey."

Casey shook his head again.

The turtle gave in and just held him. At least they were no longer outside, and Casey's room was warmer than outside.

Then again, Mikey was unnaturally cold.

Hm.

They lay there in silence for a few minutes, Mikey just feeling Casey's trembling slowly start to die down.

"Casey, not that I don't enjoy this, but maybe you would warm up faster without me."

"M-M-M-Mike..."

"Yes?"

"Sh-Shut the f-f-fuck up..."

Mikey's smile grew "Giving me attitude now?"

Casey flinched and looked up at Mikey.

Oh...

Now that was utterly precious. Casey's eyes were pools of horror. He was absolutely terrified, Mikey could practically see the thread of sanity in those gorgeous eyes. How it hung so precariously.

How Mikey wished he could reach in and cut it, witness as the human broke. He wanted to be the one to cause it, to see it.

Casey truly was his favorite plaything.

"P-Please..." Casey's voice was so small and vulnerable, it was music to his ears.

"What are you asking for?" He could see his own glowing eyes in the reflection of Casey's. He wasn't even hiding the unnatural icy glow, the white slits dilated like a cat observing its favorite toy.

"D-Don't... hurt her..."

Oh, Mikey had almost forgotten what had gotten them into this situation in the first place. It caused an involuntary laugh to come from him. Such a silly situation, and a silly notion, he'd never truly lose control like that. Yes, he did not like that human brat girl, but he would never risk his mask in such a ridiculous way.

He saw the confusion in Casey's eyes as he laughed. Adorable.

"Oh Casey... I'm so sorry you had to see that... I'm afraid it's the unfortunate side effect that happens when I'm hungry."

"Y-You're hungry...?" The fear was still there, but it lowered to the usual fear, though he still trembled from the cold.

"Yes." He had no doubt it was unsettling how he said this while brushing his hair out of his face, smile not leaving his face. "But don't worry, I have a hold on it."

"Yeah, c-cuz you almost k-killing my friend is, a h-hold on it..."

"I," He suddenly got closer to Casey's face, and he reveled at how the human flinched back, "just need to eat, and I'll be fine. But I appreciate how you worry for me." He knew that's not why Casey was worried, at least not mostly.

"But... w-why have ya not?" That curiosity that mixes with the human's fear appears. Mikey's pretty sure that it's part of the reason Casey stuck around, at least initially.

"I'm not sure if you've noticed, Jones. But we are dealing with an impending alien invasion for the second time now. My brothers, especially Donnie, are on high alert. Missing people bring alarm and even if I had you as my alibi, there's still a chance you would be found without me. Plus our T-phones are trackable, so even if the missing people weren't a problem, I'd have to bring you with me to ensure the alibi stands."

There was a pause as Casey processed the infodump. "But M-My phone ain't a T-T-phone."

"Casey dear, do you really think Donnie wouldn't be able to track your phone?"

Even through his fear, the blush that crept into Casey's cheeks was noticeable. "Kay... You got a p-point... So, how ya g-gonna eat? If you c-can't eat like usual..."

Mikey hummed as he idly played with Casey's hair, removing his bandanna from his head. "That is the question... Before we went to the surface I used to eat rats, maybe I'll just have a few of those... Maybe a cat... maybe some dogs... It's a pity too. I don't feel a lot often, but I admit I feel bad eating those poor creatures..."

Casey snorted, "You feel bad for stray dogs and cats but not for literal humans?"

"Of course not, many humans are absolute monsters, even worse than me. You don't count of course~" He practically cooed as he cupped Casey's cheek, feeling the soft skin, he was getting warmer, that was good.

"Not gonna lie, you're k-kinda right on that... p-people can suck ass..." There was a question in mind he wasn't voicing, he could see it bouncing around from behind those dark orbs.

He was avoiding his eyes now, he wanted to EAT HIM AND WATCH HIM CRY.

"Casey~" Mikey held the human's chin and made him look at him, "You know better than anyone I can tell when you have questions."

"You're... right..." Casey shivered as he looked Mikey in the eye. "Okay... Imma be honest Mike... I need to ask this...."

Casey took one more deep breath as he finally asked the question that's been on his mind since he witnessed the turtle tear apart and eat several thugs in front of him.

"What are you?"

And the demon in Mikey's head chuckled.

"Good luck." Annabeth sneered.

[gollumsmygel]

sometimes thinking bout how Hansuke wonders what would life be if her grandfather didn't go to jail and he's still the lord of the family.

would he put her in an arranged marriage? with someone with a fire quirk? someone who has political power? someone who is wealthy?

she's thinking what would she do if put into that scenario.

sometimes she thinks about what if she had the same mindset as her grandfather, marrying and bearing kids with people who have quirks that can make their fire quirk stronger. she blames Kirishima and Kaminari for the thought.

thinking about that how she's never bat an eyelash at Todoroki, never blushed and never giggled about how good looking he is. Tho she didn't really have an idea he's Endeavor's kid until she connected his glare and when the hero showed up at the sports festival. She thinks he's good looking, she just isn't interested with romance.

Finds it absolutely hilarious that her friends think something is going on between her and Haruo.

[anakin-pilled]

OOOHHH IM SO EXCITED ABOUT THIS ANDRA!!!! and HAUNTED???? such a good song choice omgggg the intensity of the song matched the intensity of this chapter 100% ughhhhh i love!!!! i am so sad for MiM to end, but you are doing such a great fucking job at it!! this chapter may be my favorite so far AHHHHHHHHH hugs and kisses for you 🥰💖😮‍💨

Like this, in this light, with a peaceful look on your face, eyelashes casting shadows over your lapis cheeks, your tahni glowing dimly and flickering softly, your lips slightly parted as you breathed in and out, you reminded him a lot of the Vi he used to love

i always love how you are able to perfectly describe a scene using such imagery like i literally feel like i am watching this scene play by play in my head and its because you are just so wonderful at setting the scene and making it translatable to images (i hope that makes sense)

In your dreams, you fight and make up, and he tells you he’s sorry and that it was just a misunderstanding and that he’ll do whatever it takes to win you back

OUCH!!!!!!! i feel like this really portays the hurt vi has for her lost relationship with teyam cause like...if something is haunting you so much that it's appearing in your dreams then you know it's real!!!! imagine being so hurt that your brain literally has to come up with fake scenarios to cope and ease the pain (too relatable actually)

....your ikran still played with each other even mid flight....

NOOO WHY WOULD YOU SAYYY THIS plz its probably so awkward and embarrassing for them when this happens 😭 but also its a sign that they are meant to be...rip oare tho 😭

“Please tell me everyone’s alright. Please.” 

“It will all be alright, son. Everything will be alright.”

DAMN NEYTIRI WHY ARE YOU BEING SO VAGUEEE. Neteyam after Neytiri doesn't answer his question AHAHAHAH but also andra im scared because i don't know if this means something bad has happened or not.......

You would make sure he regretted it - you have always been wild and creative, and without him, you now had heaps of time to be both, at the same time, all towards him. 

ENSUES THE CHAOS!!!!

“Also… do I get a special reward for beating the Iknimaya in record time, the fastest it’s ever been done? I feel like I’m well on the way to stealing Neteyam’s spot as the next Olo’eykte. Wouldn’t that be just a riot?”

LMFOAFREHGIGHIEGBEHG NOOOOOOOOO

Because while he might have been comfortable with the quiet, you wanted yelling and chaos, to reflect the hurt in your heart that hasn’t diminished even after all this time. You wanted to make him pay for banishing you from his mind and heart, from his life that you used to know so intimately, and you were good at payback, and continued to get better over time. 

I LOVE THIS!!!!! Like I think in order for the whole MiM dynamic to work and make the story good...you have to realize just how much of a role Vi has in this hate-filled relationship as well. Like yes, Neteyam started it and was wrong for not communicating. But it's not like Vi is any better because she's also vindictive and petty. It's the both of them, no matter who started what, that are both at fault of continuing the toxic, nasty cycle of revenge and one-upping each other. Much like in life, nothing is black and white and their relationship is an example of this. You can't point fingers even if you wanted to! (but i will point my pinky at Neteyam just a little bit).

Whatever you saw here, and there were some wild things,

VI, YOU LITTLE VOUYOURIST HAAHAHAHA. i cant imagine hating someone so much i would watch their sexacapedes just for ammo 💀

You were just mad that you lost a subject that you knew got under his skin. That’s it. That must be it

SHES DELUSIONAL YOUR HONOR!!! im sure there's no other reason....

“This is for ruining my hiding spot. Enjoy hearing all the girls who don’t recoil at the thought of being in my presence.”

IM FUCKING CRYINGNDKRJGNDJRKGNRKGB HES SO FUCKING MEAN!!!! i'm sorry, but neteyam lowkey ate vi up. he got her ass!!!

“I heard you.”One tear. “That night, the night after the Iknimaya.” Two tears. “I heard you telling grandmother how you want her to be Olo’eykte in my stead. How she deserves it.”

NOOO NOW IM CRYING IN A BAD WAY!!!! LET IT OUT POOKIE!!!!!

That even back then, as nothing more than a child, he knew that she was special. That under other circumstances, she would have, no doubt in his mind, become the next Olo’eykte. That she was born for it, made for it. 

LMFOJFOINKEK ANDRA WHY WOULD YOU DO THIS!!!! IM CRYINGGGGG because i did not expect this but also that was a very good twist. Now i cannot wait to see how neteyam and vi get themselves out of this mess he (they) made. I think this is funny and you got me there. Classic miscommunication trope x100 but throw in some blood, revenge, death.

“Have you seen her? Have you seen syä?”

“What do you mean, Lo'ak?”

“She’s gone, bro. She’s not in grandmother’s tent anymore.”

UGHHGIRGIG YOU ALWAYS LEAVE THE CHAPTERS OFF WITH THE MOST JAW DROPPED ENDING I CANT but also i love it because it keeps us waiting more i am insatiable for your writing

𝕄𝕠𝕟𝕤𝕥𝕖𝕣 𝕀𝕟 𝕄𝕖 | ℂ𝕙𝕒𝕡𝕥𝕖𝕣 𝕍𝕀: 𝕊𝕠𝕞𝕖𝕥𝕙𝕚𝕟𝕘'𝕤 𝕄𝕒𝕕𝕖 𝕐𝕠𝕦𝕣 𝔼𝕪𝕖𝕤 𝔾𝕠 ℂ𝕠𝕝𝕕

Pairing: Neteyam x (f)Omaticaya!Reader

synopsis: Even in your state, memories of your past can't help but flood your subconscious, as Neteyam has a conversation with his father that will change the way he's viewed the last seven years of his life.

warnings: 18+ minors DNI, aged-up! Neteyam/Reader, enemies-to-lovers, angst (mentions of violence, battle, blood, death), strong language.

wc: 6.8k words

a/n: this chapter was written to pretty much be a mirror of last chapter, with the same concept of flashbacks vs present time, except this time we get to see Vi's memories from the 7 years they hated each other, which will hopefully provide context for why Neteyam's hatred doesn't only stem from that fateful conversation he overheard, but also from her petty, vindictive actions, that only grew as time went on. i hope you enjoy this chapter, besties (i feel very insecure about it so pls go easy on me, i'm still recovering hahaha) x there's only two chapters left, and i'm already sad about this story coming to an end, but i hope you enjoyed the ride. pls don't forget to leave a comment or a reblog and tell me your thoughts, i loveee to hear from you so much!

na'vi compendium: txepvi  - spark, sa'nok - mother, ite - daughter, Olo'eykte - female Olo'eyktan, oare - moon, nawm - great, syä - bitter

: ̗̀➛ previous chapter (x) : ̗̀➛ series masterlist (x) : ̗̀➛ series playlist (x)

You and I walk a fragile line I have known it all this time But I never thought I'd live to see it break

Neteyam hasn’t blinked since the accident, it feels. He definitely hasn't blinked since he did last, when you opened your eyes and then closed them again, never to be opened since. He doesn’t know why. He doesn’t know why it matters so much that he stays so acutely present and aware, so that his eyes are locked onto your sleeping frame, doesn’t know why the thought of falling asleep and missing you, missing your eyes fluttering open or staying shut forever hurts him so beyond reason or words, so beyond anything he’s ever known. So he hasn’t blinked. Everyone else was long gone, including his grandmother, who hurried to the tree of souls to pray for the safe return of her family and the rest of the brave Na’vi warriors who were still fighting in that wretched battle, the one that seemed never-ending, the one that riddled Neteyam with guilt for not taking part in. 

“There’s nothing we can do for her now, ma ‘itan. She’s in Eywa’s hands now, we just have to wait and see.”

Neteyam hated those words. With a burning passion. Wait and see. So passive, so out of his control, so… hopeless. And yet here he was. Waiting, to see if you’d ever wake up, to see if his family, his mother and father, his friends, his clan members would survive the night and the challenge that might overtake them without him being there to help or stop it, or even witness it. Seeing, seeing you, powerless and lifeless, just a flicker of the bright spark you've always been, it stirred something in him.

You were so beautiful. He hated himself for realising it, but you were. You always have been, and although so much of your beauty came from the soul that was wild and untamed and too big to be contained inside you, still, you were beautiful. And like this, no usual frown or defiant smirk that you reserved for him, he could focus on your face and realise that you haven’t changed that much in all these years, not as much as he has led himself to believe in time. Like this, in this light, with a peaceful look on your face, eyelashes casting shadows over your lapis cheeks, your tahni glowing dimly and flickering softly, your lips slightly parted as you breathed in and out, you reminded him a lot of the Vi he used to love, the Vi before the ugly fights, and the constant war, before the hurt and the pain, before every day was just another opportunity to see who could hurt the other the most. He always thought you won those, all of those. 

“T-tey…”

His musings come to a swift closure as your lips move minutely, air barely getting pushed past them. You were speaking, and he felt himself coming back to life with each sound coming out of your mouth. 

“Teyam…” 

It's getting dark and it's all too quiet And I can't trust anything now And it's coming over you like it's all a big mistake

“Teyam…” 

You wake up in a sweat, like you did most days these days since the Iknimaya, whimpering the name of the boy you used to call your best friend, that you no longer could, for reasons you still couldn’t understand, that you feared more and more you never would. In your dreams, you fight and make up, and he tells you he’s sorry and that it was just a misunderstanding and that he’ll do whatever it takes to win you back, because just like you’ve gotten used to over the last few years, you two will always be bound by the hip and there was nothing that could ever come between you. It was a nice sentiment, but one that never manifested itself to you in any waking moment, as, since your Iknimaya, Neteyam has treated you like a stranger, like an ugly thought he fought his hardest to banish from his mind.

With a deep sigh, you put new clothes on and struggled to eat a few pieces of yovo fruit you picked up off the floor on your last hunt. You missed the food Neytiri made, and although they still brought you nourishment fresh every time they made it, it wasn’t the same without the familial, loving atmosphere you’ve come to rely on all these years, so you barely touched it, choosing instead to give it to the other orphans of the war that hadn't been as fortunate as you. You couldn’t bring yourself to go back to them, no matter how many times they asked. Not when you knew that if you did, you’d be met with a dead stare you couldn’t handle looking into, not without crying, and there’s nothing you hated more than crying in front of people. There’s nothing you hated more than showing weakness, and he didn’t deserve to see you weak. Not anymore. 

Days dragged in training without someone to help time pass faster, without someone to brighten up your days, but they did pass. You had to sit next to Neteyam in briefings and in shooting practice, your ikran still played with each other even mid flight until one of you had to will them away from one another so as to avoid an awkward interaction, his presence and spirit was everywhere around you and in you and yet, it’s like you didn’t exist in his life anymore. 

"Come over for dinner, kid. It's been weeks. We miss having you."

You didn't know how many more excuses you could come up with to not do as Jake said, although you did suspect they knew about your and Neteyam's fallout. It was hard not to know, when the air shifted whenever you were in each other's presence, when it became icy and glacial and empty like a vast, cold tundra that you couldn't escape no matter how much you tried.

"Jake..."

"I know, you're sick and you don't want to get Tuk sick, you're too tired for food so you're just gonna crash in your tent, you have discovered a new allergy to an ingredient that Neytiri uses that's never been a problem in the years we've known you, but it suddenly is now... still, just come, okay?"

"Look, I promised your dad I'd take care of you. I can't do that if you're gonna push us away. Whatever it is between you and Neteyam... it will pass. You love each other too much for it not to pass. But hiding, moping, walking 'round looking hopeless and aimless - it isn't you. I need you to be the spark I know and love and fight. You've never gone down without a fight - don't start now. Ok?"

“Ma ‘itan.” 

Neteyam’s eyes snapped in the direction of the tent flap prying open, his mother’s lean, graceful figure emerging and he immediately rose from his spot to hurry to her side and envelop her in a hug they both desperately needed. She was fine. She was here, and walking and standing… alive. She was alive. 

“Sa’nok! Where’s father? What took so long? Is everyone ok? I am -”

“Shh, Neteyam.” His mother was a warrior, always. She was strong and capable and skilled, she was tough and knowledgeable. And yet somehow, beneath it all, she was still soft and kind and caring and empathetic, she knew exactly what her kids always felt, and she knew exactly what to say to make it better. When she her hand found the back of his neck, guiding him into her embrace, his face gently tucked in the crook of her neck, Neteyam found himself sobbing, finally able to let the pent-up emotion surface, all the anger, and sadness and guilt, and relief the last few days have brought washing over him and onto his mother’s shoulders, and she cooed affectionately, not saying a word. She knew there was no need for words, no words could ever made this better. 

“She’s dead, mum. Oare’s dead.”

“I know…” 

“Please tell me everyone’s alright. Please.” 

“It will all be alright, son. Everything will be alright.”

It will be alright… Everything will be alright.

Oh, I'm holding my breath Won't lose you again Something's made your eyes go cold

“Alright, now that you’re back in our tent, where you belong, we thought we’d celebrate both your and Neteyam’s incredible iknimaya! You both did phenomenally, kids, and we are so, so proud of you both. The youngest to ever have done it, too! I mean, I don’t want to brag, but I’m pretty sure it’s all my training regi-“ 

Jake ceased his monologue as soon as he noticed the dead silence in the tent, and the awkward looks that Neytiri kept shooting him when she discerned both your and Neteyam’s gazes stuck to the floor, a cold look on his face and an uncomfortable one on yours, neither of you in a celebratory mood, neither really ready or willing to relive the Iknimaya and how a beautiful, ethereal day turned into a nightmare in hindsight, plagued forever by the ill-feelings now tugging at both of your hearts.

You stared at Neteyam, as did most of his family, even the young Lo’ak who could not truly understand what was happening, why people were quiet, but could still feel the atmosphere shift, the air thicken, the silence linger and weigh heavily on all the people present in the room. Despite it all, you kept staring, kept hoping that throughout the newfound ice that enveloped the golden aura that he always exuded, that was your home and your light, your biggest question and adventure, your safety net and peace all in one, the memory of that night, so beautiful and far-removed, would bring him back to the boy you loved, the boy you needed, the boy you missed.

He was silent, still, a frown on his face and anger clear as day in his beautiful eyes, that you barely recognised, that you couldn’t believe belonged to Neteyam, your 'teyam. You kept staring and kept staring, until you felt the so-far unflinching sadness and despondency stew and seethe, until it changed and evolved, until you felt the familiar bubbling of anger remove reason or rhyme from your soul, until all you saw in front of your eyes was red, and Neteyam was the one taunting you with the blood-coloured cloth dangled in front of your face. Neteyam wanted this? Wanted to dismiss you and discard you like a toy he outgrew? Fine. You would make sure he regretted it - you have always been wild and creative, and without him, you now had heaps of time to be both, at the same time, all towards him. 

“Thank you, Jake. We couldn’t have done without your help and guidance all these years. Thank you for everything you and Neytiri and Mo’at have done for me, and I’m happy to tell you that, despite my momentary lapse in judgement, I am not going anywhere. I want to be here, I want to be part of your family if you want to have me, and I will let nothing stand in the way of that.”

As you talked, you rose from your spot to hug your adoptive parents, and they happily returned the gesture, pulling you tightly against their chests and pecking the top of your head. Lo’ak and Kiri joined enthusiastically and before long, you were suffocating in love and care and familial affection, Neteyam nowhere to be found. You were sad about it, you couldn’t help it, but for the first time in weeks the sadness was second-place, and so you found a small smirk haunting you at the prospect you were hurting him even a small amount - maybe a small fraction to the hurt he’s caused you, but there nonetheless. 

“Also… do I get a special reward for beating the Iknimaya in record time, the fastest it’s ever been done? I feel like I’m well on the way to stealing Neteyam’s spot as the next Olo’eykte. Wouldn’t that be just a riot?” 

Come on, come on, don't leave me like this I thought I had you figured out Something's gone terribly wrong You're all I wanted

"How is she?" Neteyam's eyes were heavier by the second, so tired and spent in light of everything that's transpired, in light of the bustling of crowds outside meeting what remained of the Na'vi forces that fought in a battle that while Neteyam wasn't sure, he suspected took more lives than he'll ever be able to live with. Kiri was quiet as she entered, and Neteyam was grateful for his sister, who stood with him most of the night, who checked in on you while the Tsa'hik was preoccupied with other, more pressing matters.

"The same, I think. She hasn't woken up, I don't think. She hasn't moved."

Kiri walked the length of the tent until she reached you, kneeling by your side and pressing the back of her palm on your forehead. She had something wrapped in a leaf that replaced her hand and Neteyam watched with curious eyes, hoping that by paying special attention to whatever remedy that was, it would work harder and faster, would bring you back screaming and thrashing and cursing him out, because if there's something that he's realised since your accident, it was that anything was better than the deafening silence that he couldn't escape and couldn't imagine living in for a second longer than he had to. Anything was better than this.

"Her fever's not going down. I think whatever it was she scratched herself on while she fell was poisonous. That, combined with the impact of the fall... she's lucky she's alive, Neteyam."

Neteyam couldn't help the shudder that took over his body. He didn't have any hair, the way that humans did, but he imagined if he did, it would all be standing up like blades of grass on the ground, taut and barely-moving in the warm breeze. He shifted slightly so Kiri could perch herself next to him, arms touching as she leaned on him, before placing her head on his shoulder.

"Why are you still here, big brother?"

Neteyam thought about it, until he couldn't anymore, because the thoughts weren't making sense, because they all contradicted each other, because he was tired and heartbroken and distraught, and losing Oare was obviously making him soft and delusional.

"You know you're in love with her, right? Please tell me you realise this, at least now, after all this time, in light of everything that's happened, in light of how you've acted it because of it. It's been so long, Neteyam. So long of us watching you be horrible to each other and hope that one day, you'd both wake up and realise the only reason you're acting like this is because you're too blind to see what's right in front of your eyes."

Neteyam's eyes widened progressively more with each word uttered, until they were so wide it hurt. To hear it out loud, spoken so casually, as if it were a fact, shocked the Sully man. Us? Who else thought this? Who else could possibly be blind enough to perpetuate such disparaging ideas that made Neteyam's skin crawl even at the notion.

"I'm not in love with her, Kiri. I can't be in love with her. After everything she's done... everything I've done... this can't be love. Maybe it was, once. Maybe I loved her once. Maybe I loved her so much I couldn't imagine my life without her." Neteyam sighed, looking at your face, tears pooling in his eyes as early memories of young Vi juxtaposed against later memories of you, so many memories he wanted to forget and banish from his mind, so many cruel, harmful, ugly memories that made up most of his view of you now. "But not anymore."

Kiri rises from her spot with a sigh, patting her brother's head with an exasperated sigh, before she leaves.

"You haven't moved. You haven't slept or eaten, you haven't blinked. Our parents need your help bringing back the injured, the clan needs your help as the future Olo'eyktan, and yet... you haven't moved. I think that says everything. The first step in solving any problem is recognising there is one, brother. The sooner you admit your feelings, the sooner you can work towards fixing your broken relationship."

Stood there and watched you walk away from everything we had But I still mean every word I said to you He will try to take away my pain and he just might make me smile But the whole time I'm wishing he was you instead

Desire burning deep in you was the only thing you felt as Akxo continued to trail kisses on your neck, a string of saliva connecting the purple lovebites that still stung slightly from when he marked you with them just a few minutes ago. With your eyes closed as they were, it was almost easy to imagine you were all alone, just you and this guy you’ve known your whole life but only recently realised had become a man, powerful and strong after just completing his Uniltaron just a few days ago. Despite your imagination, though, you were, in fact, not alone, nor isolated, but in plain view, propped against a tree of the clearing where you all trained in, that still had people working hard to improve on their skills, which is probably what you should be doing. But there was something so innately satisfying about doing this instead, as soon as Jake had to leave and tend to his other Olo’eyktan duties and left you and Neteyam in charge, doing it so he could watch, so he could stew in the bile that was his existence and know there’s nothing he could do to stop it, because he had no leverage over you and no power to hold over your head. Not now, and never again.  

Jake had been wrong. Whatever it was that happened between Neteyam and you didn’t pass, not a few months and definitely not now, years later. If anything, it got a lot, lot worse. Because while in the beginning it was uncomfortable silence and cold and unwieldy dejection, it was now fire and blood, it was teeth and claws, it was anger and resentment. You recognised a lot of it came from you. Most of it came from you. Because Jake might have been wrong about some things, but he was right about others. You’ve never gone down without a fight - and if a fight was what Neteyam wanted all this time, a fight was what he was going to get. Because while he might have been comfortable with the quiet, you wanted yelling and chaos, to reflect the hurt in your heart that hasn’t diminished even after all this time. You wanted to make him pay for banishing you from his mind and heart, from his life that you used to know so intimately, and you were good at payback, and continued to get better over time. 

“Are you trying to derail this whole fucking training session?” His voice, that you wanted to say hurt your ears, but if you were honest with yourself, it never could, not when it was melodic and beautiful, not when it still haunted your dreams, made Akxo straighten up faster than you could tell him to not bother, and you chuckled, a low and humourless sound that you’ve come to associate with dealing with Neteyam. 

“Don’t tell me you can’t ever handle a bunch of 13 year olds, Neteyam. I knew you couldn’t do anything right without me, but still, this is low, even for you.” 

“Akxo, I don’t think I’m making myself clear. She may be immune from the Olo’eyktan’s judgement, but you, my friend, are not. I’m sure there’s better ways to spend your days than wasting your breath on her. Trust me, she’s not worth it.”

“Ah, Neteyam, there’s no need to be bitter.” Your smirk only deepened as you ran your hands over your new flame’s abdomen. “One day, you too will find someone who won’t recoil at the thought of being in your presence, but you might need to work a little harder to not be so hard to stomach all the time for that to happen. I can coach you if you want, I mean… it wouldn’t be the first time I’ve had to help you, and I’m sure it won’t be the last.”

I know, I know I just know You're not gone, you can't be gone, no

“These are the last of them.” Neteyam tried not to recoil in agony at the sight of so many dead Na’vi and pa’li, so many ikran, so much loss, more than anyone should ever know, but especially their tribe, that has had to come to terms with grief in a way most other tribes aren’t, in a way that’s unnatural and premature and wrong. It was all so wrong.

Kiri was right, he had to help. He had to help not because it was his duty, but because it was right. He couldn’t keep looking at you, not when every second he did, Kiri’s words rang in his ears and made his eardrums pound so hard it felt like they were about to explode, not when every second he spent thinking of you was making him feel a mix of emotions that he didn’t, couldn’t understand, not when the exhaustion from the last few days made him question himself and ponder if his sister was indeed right all along. So Neteyam left you in that tent and put you under lock and key in the back of his mind, and dealt with the immeasurable loss that once more plagued his clan. 

“Nawm Sa'nok, why?! My son, my son! There is supposed to be a balance! This isn't balance!” The wails of the woman, whom he’s known ever since he was born, that he can still remember playing with him when she brought his son over his family’s tent, hurt beyond comprehension. The usual peaceful, harmonious laughter and chatter intertwined with the sound of leaves rustling in the wind and soft, distant songs of animals and birds were gone, drowned by the cries and screams by the people that were trying to identify the dead, and figure out if life would ever be the same again. 

"Neteyam, ma 'itan. He's gone, he's gone! Oh, Great Mother!"

Neteyam's breath got pushed out of his lungs at the impact of her body crashing into him, that he struggled to keep upright as she was buckling under the weight of her loss. Her son was a good warrior, and a friend. He couldn't come to terms with his death, couldn't understand what was truly going on, his mind almost protecting him from the overwhelming grief by numbing his thoughts, by removing him slightly from the realities clearly displayed to him, that he experienced almost like in a dream.

"It's going to be alright, auntie. We're all going to be alright." His mother's words, a mantra he repeated to himself every second, now the only thing that he could utter, the only thing that didn't feel redundant... even though it was.

Come on, come on, don't leave me like this I thought I had you figured out Something's gone terribly wrong Won't finish what you started

Well, here you were, ready to eat your words, as the curiosity got the better of you and you found yourself sneaking to Neteyam’s new hiding spot, that he didn’t know you knew about, that you found yourself coming to a bit too often to call it nonchalance and yet, you just couldn’t help yourself. It was an itch you had to scratch, seeing what he was doing, who he was with, finding new ammunition for your petty revenge, it was all for research purposes, you always told yourself.

Whatever you saw here, and there were some wild things, you always kept quiet and left without ever being spotted, maintaining your cover and whatever dignity you knew would disappear if your friends found out you were stooping so low. But somehow, right now, watching as Neteyam was whispering sweet nothings in a stupid little healer’s ears, telling her how good she’s taking his cock and watching her eyes roll back in her head, your blood was boiling.

You didn’t know why it was boiling, it’s not like you haven’t seen him fuck girls before, or try to, it’s not like this was a completely unusual occurrence, but it was new just how into it the girl seemed to be. How desperate for his touch, how needy to feel him. Your fingers twisted around a branch so hard it snapped and you ducked as their heads snapped into the direction of the noise. You were just mad that you lost a subject that you knew got under his skin. That’s it. That must be it, not at all because your mind was conjuring all the ways that you should be in that girl’s shoes, and how he should be making you feel this way. No man’s ever made you feel this way. No man’s ever made you cry, the way she was crying, gripping at his back and shoulders so hard his skin was broken and bleeding. You hated him, that’s all. That’s why your blood was boiling. 

Well, he wouldn’t get the last word, not if you had anything to do with it. You returned to your spot around an hour later, half happy, half annoyed out of your mind that they were still going at it, and she was still screaming and crying, and he was still whispering praises in her ears, although they did have the decency to change position so at least you couldn’t see much anymore. With a wide smirk on your lips, you waited, until the unmistakable sound of footsteps echoed through the endless green forest. 

"Neteyam, are you there?"

Jake sounded angry, and you stifled an evil laugh as you saw them both scramble to untangle themselves from each other and from the floor, the girl's cries no longer of pleasure as she couldn't figure out how to tie her top around her neck anymore.

"Nete-, oh, my fucking God!" English came naturally to Jake, even 20 years later, whenever he was feeling any extreme emotion, and you were happy for the strenuous effort you put into learning it as a child just for this one moment, right here. This was all worth it. "Kole, your mother was looking for you. Can you just- oh, fuck - can you just go and meet her, please?"

"Yes, of course, ma Olo'eyktan."

You were still grinning about the interaction and the ass kicking that followed a couple days later, as you came back to your tent for the night. The smile faded progressively as you neared the entrance, as small whimpers and pleasured groans could be discerned vaguely, coming from behind your tent, a small nook that only you really knew about or frequented, that now was obviously occupied, by a person whose voice you recognised all too well. No way. Sure enough, as you snuck around the tent, a continuation of whatever it was you interupted a couple days ago was well underway, and you bit down a curse, enraged at the way not only did you not, in the end, get the last word, but Neteyam's new hiding spot was just about to ruin whatever remainder of peace and sanity you had left.

When you entered your tent, a small piece of paper with some writing rested on your sleeping mat, yet another human skill Jake insisted on his family to know, that you now regretted.

"This is for ruining my hiding spot. Enjoy hearing all the girls who don't recoil at the thought of being in my presence."

Come on, come on, don't leave me like this I thought I had you figured out Can't breathe whenever you're gone Can't go back, I'm haunted

Neteyam watched as his father entered the tent, a heaviness that he rarely lets people be privy to wearing him down and slouching his shoulders. Neteyam couldn’t imagine what his father was going through, couldn’t imagine how someday, he’ll have to bear this burden and do it well, do it honourably and proudly and still keep a head held high and keep it all together so other people can fall apart around him.

Neteyam had mostly love for his dad - deep, unconditional love that will never falter, not even in the face of adversity, or in the face of the deep seeded resentment that Neteyam still had after the years of torturous training, of pressure put on his very young shoulders, of guilt-tripping and being blamed for his brother’s mistakes, of being pushed aside and replaced with you, the perfect daughter who could do no wrong in his father’s eyes. Even despite all of this, Neteyam loved his dad. And yet, watching him come in, sad and worried sick about you, his lips pursed in a straight line, words on his tongue that Neteyam knew were coming and was terrified of… the love faltered just a little. 

“Mo’at said she got poisoned falling off her ikran.” 

“Yes. Oare’s dead.”

“I saw her in the line-up.” His father turned his sights from you to his oldest son, sighing as his eyes set on him, anger flashing in his eyes briefly before composing himself.

“What the hell happened out there, Neteyam? We were counting on you. On both of you.” 

Neteyam had no answer to that. He’s tried so hard to bury the thoughts, because he knew that if he succumbed to them, the guilt would eat him alive and pick its teeth with what remained of his frail bones. He didn’t think of how this was his fault, your fault, how if these stupid fights, that now seemed meaningless and daft, didn’t occupy so much space and time in both your minds, you would have slept, you would have not been tired and distracted, Oare wouldn’t have felt the nerves and fears emanating from you, and you would’ve done what you do best, inspire some people, kill others, be next to Jake, like you always were, like Neteyam was normally next to his mother, and get it done. The two of you were indispensable to the clan, as much was clear now. And although it wasn't fair, how much pressure there was on both your shoulders, it was the way things were. And now both of you will have to live with the consequences of your actions, will have to find a way to look the people in the eye again, knowing that you directly caused their family’s demise and the clan’s sorrow.

“Do you understand how serious this is, Neteyam? We lost good people today. Good people, strong people, dependable people. And the two people who I counted on the most left us all for dead, to fend for ourselves. This isn’t what I taught you. This isn’t who I raised, Neteyam. Even Lo’ak pulled his weight. We’re going to be reeling from these losses for the rest of our lives, and this has set us back months, and I need you to understand the weight of your actions.” 

Another sigh and a frown that aged the Olo’eyktan by a good 10 years was the last sign of disapproval before his attempt to leave Neteyam by himself, but for the first time in his life, Neteyam couldn’t let that happen. He didn’t know whether it was his words, or the continuous battle with you that he’s had to fight for the last 7 years, all years in which he’s felt heartbroken, and resentful, and inadequate, and pushed to the side, and ignored, and worked to the bone for very little appreciation, or the fatigue wearing him down, or the loss of your ikran, or the guilt that’s been gnawing at him long before his father’s contribution, but for the first time in his life, Neteyam’s anger was directed at someone else rather than you. 

“Understand the weight of my actions? Do you hear yourself right now? This whole mess, this whole shitshow that I’ve gone through, that we’ve both gone through, it’s all your fault. All of it.  This is going to weigh on me just as much as it will weigh on you, and the loss of these people, of Eywa’s children, will haunt me for the rest of my life. Of our lives. So don’t sit there and talk to me about responsibility, and about losing people.” He couldn’t help look at your unconscious form, that more and more felt like your own body was trying to protect you from the sadness that would wait for you when you woke. “I lost the person I loved the most, that was my shelter from the storm, a storm you caused. All you do is push me, and push us, and I’m so fucking tired of it.” a sob is all it took for his father to rush to his side, concern and confusion deeply rooted on his face as it met Neteyam’s, when his hands found his face and rose it to his level. 

“What are you talking about, son?” 

Neteyam’s chest was heaving with unshed tears as he looked in his father’s eyes through the fractured, refracted lens of the liquid threatening to spill. 

“I heard you.” One tear. “That night, the night after the Iknimaya.” Two tears. “I heard you telling grandmother how you want her to be Olo’eykte in my stead. How she deserves it.” Six tears. “I heard you… as you told her Vi would never have me. That she said she would never want to be my mate.” Too many tears to count. 

“Oh, Neteyam…” 

“I worked so hard, my whole life. I sacrificed more than anybody I know. And I did it all to please you, to live up to you. I did so you’d be proud of me, so you’d love me, and accept me. I did it all so I’d a good leader, a worthy Olo’eyktan, someone the clan can rely on to protect them.

I spent my whole childhood crying and aching, hating my life, wishing I could be anyone else instead, but I thought it would all be worth it one day because you told me as much, and that I have a title to live up to. And then I met Vi, and she changed everything… and I loved her, dad. And in one night you managed to take everything away from me.

Do you have any idea what that did to me? What the next seven years, in which we hated each other and competed for your love and praise, for your attention and affection, did to me? I’m there for everybody all the time. Every day and night, I am here for you, and for mum. I am here for Kiri and Lo’ak and Tuk. I am here for the clan. I am the mighty soldier, the doting brother, the dutiful son, the concerned clan member, the understanding karyu, the unbroken arrow in the quiver of your army.

Do you know there’s not a single day that I don’t hurt, that it doesn’t kill me inside, little by little, without a single soul to talk to, that cares or bothers to listen to my struggles?”

Sometime during that monologue, that Neteyam’s kept in his soul his whole life, he found himself in his father’s embrace, who was quiet and listened, who said nothing and just waited. Neteyam was sobbing in his father’s shoulder now, and he couldn’t find it in him to stop, like a spring that was buried underground with none the wiser until poked in just the right way, with unending streams now able to either fill a dam or flood a village. 

“Neteyam… fuck. I’m so sorry, son. I didn’t know. Any of it, I didn’t know. Neteyam… you never said anything. You never brought up that night, and I wish you did, son… I wish you did because if you had, then you would know that those words that you heard… those words weren’t mine, Neteyam.” 

There are very few moments where Neteyam feels like his soul has somehow exited his body and he’s experiencing a moment almost like from outside himself, like a stranger looking in. That’s how he felt now, as he could see himself removing his head from his father’s embrace, a dazed and almost uncharacteristic expression trying him. 

“What did you say?” 

“That night, if I remember correctly… we were talking about how well you did, both of you, in the Iknimaya. We were laughing at the fact you were both late, how I’d have to pretend to be mad and punish you, when in reality I not only expected it, but almost desired it, that you took that day to enjoy yourselves, to feel free of some of the burden I know I’ve placed on you.

I was reminded, seeing her, of her dad. Her dad who asked me to take care of her before he passed. Of the words he told me. That even back then, as nothing more than a child, he knew that she was special. That under other circumstances, she would have, no doubt in his mind, become the next Olo’eykte. That she was born for it, made for it. Those words always echoed in my ears as I watched her grow, and seen for myself the talent that comes so rarely, it seems almost like a fable. That I only ever saw in you. I considered it, making you both leaders at the same time - unheard of, maybe, but you both deserve it, you’re both made for it, and you used to complete each other, like two pieces of a perfectly fitted puzzle. That’s it, son. I would never want to replace you, Neteyam. I would never even think of it. Not only because you are my son, but because you are the greatest person I've ever met. Because there's no one else, there can be no one else.” 

Neteyam saw his face drop, his entire body shuddering under the weight of the new information, that changed everything, that he could have known all these years and yet didn’t, that shifted Neteyam’s whole world on its axis yet again and he almost wanted to reach out and console himself, the man that looked as young and scared as a pup lost in the woods, like he used to look all the time before he met you, like he swore to himself he’d never look like again after he lost you. His dad didn’t want to replace him. He never wanted to replace him. What was he supposed to do now, with this momentous information that he never thought he’d get to hear?

“I’m so sorry, son, that you’ve had to bear this weight all by yourself. I’m sorry for my contribution in it, and that I failed to see how I made it all so much harder to stomach. Your mother and I love you so, so much, Neteyam, and we want to be there for you, but, son… you don’t talk to us. You keep everything buried inside. We can’t help what we don’t know. We try our best, and we’re so sorry we failed you… that I failed you. And about Vi… Neteyam, you have to speak with her. You’ve carried this in you for far too long. You need to let it out. Let her explain. Let her give you an answer, or closure.” 

“What if she doesn’t wake up?” 

Neteyam didn’t know if his dad was saying this more to his son or to himself, but right now, it didn’t matter. 

“She will, son. She’ll wake up.”

The only other time Neteyam's left you since the accident was after the talk, the overwhelming urge to wash his face at the nearby river finally too great to be ignored. The water helped a little. It grounded him and nourished him, as much as it could, and Neteyam was slightly taken aback at the way his soul felt just slightly lighter, how his father's words, and the conversation he should have had years ago and didn't, changed so much in his mind. His father was right. Kiri was right. It was time to talk. Years and years of torture and pain, and it was finally time to talk. He just hoped you'd actually be there to listen.

Neteyam was startled by a frenzied Lo'ak, rushing to his side, panting as he put a hand on his chest, trying to catch his breath as he spoke.

"Have you seen her? Have you seen syä?"

"What do you mean, Lo'ak?"

"She's gone, bro. She's not in grandmother's tent anymore."

You and I walk a fragile line I have known it all this time Never ever thought I'd see it break Never thought I'd see it

taglist: @fanboyluvr @theycallmesia @afro-hispwriter @soleilmoon @crazy4books1 @bakugouswaif@randxmthxughts @xreadersstuff @sirezaya @kimberlyshailany-blog @gyuventure @jujudsmyst @kikookii @nxptury @nonniesworld @koing-slvt @bakugouswaif @isnt-itstrange @tpwkforevermore @alahamums @tallulah477 @gknj9495@aquamarine001 @itssomeonereading @yumimak@sweetbread-m@eqgroil @im-in-a-pansexual-panik @juneonhoth @yagirlheree @jackiehollanderr @legendarynoodlebowl @iameatingmyhair @justasimps-blog@hannabanana-09 @xylianasblog @misscaller06 @yeosxxx @myh3artttt @teyamsbitch@musicownsme @i-live-in-a-fantasy-daydream @zoetrope1997 @itsmy-alteregohere @ntymavtr @curlszx88 @maki-z @riatesullironalite @baahsaama @luna-salem @teyamtesuli @koing-slvt @call-me-doll-face @puresirius-things @saturniac (sorry if i missed anyone this list is getting so longgg)

[our-gentle-tide]

If that's okay could i request the demon brothers watching encanto? They would all relate to the characters in someway!

(bonus if when surface pressure comes on MC looks at Mammon and Lucifer and goes, this you?)

The brothers reacting to encanto

Warning: none?

A/n: I'm so sorry this took so long :') the mid-terms were a pain in my ass tbh, I didn't do too good tbh so I'm going back to studying so I can prepare myself. I'm also thinking of changing my writing style, On the bright side my kitten will be coming home tomorrow!! I'm naming them Milo :)

Also I didn't put levi in cos I didn't know what to write, sorry love 😅

Reader: gn (they/them)

Lucifer:

A movie about a family? Okay he thinks it's fine

..he changed his mind- MC what exactly are you implying here???

When luisa sings her song, he sees you staring at him in the corner of his eye-

When the movie ends he is silent for a hot minute but started to speak after a bit

His pride won't let him react too much so don't get your hopes up darling

"What do you mean I act like abuela alma but worse? Of course I don't satan, stop being ridiculous"

He sees it, he just won't admit it

Mammon:

MOVIE NIGHT!!! WHIP OUT THAT POPCORN AND PUT ON THE ACTI- huh? What do you mean it's not and action movie???

Pouty baby

Wait- it's not horror is it?..it's not?! Thank diavolo!

!! Not like he was scared or anything! This is THE GREAT MAMMON after all!!

Did cry his eyes out when mirabel and alma fought tho-

"That shape shifting human lied! Where is the 7 foot frame huh?!?"

Satan:

Oh? A family movie that resolves around trauma and how that trauma passed on for one, almost-kinda two generations?

Sign him up-

Analysis the entire movie tbh

I feel like he either likes camilo or isabela or mirabel, there can only be one-

"Hmm alma reminds me of someone" continues to stear at Lucifer

Move over Mc, I'll be taking the unlicensed therapist role for a bit-

Asmo:

MC, come sit next to him so you can cuddle him-

Oh! The flower girl is so pretty! Not as pretty as me ofc, right mc? *bats eyelashes*

Huh?!- five? FIVE BABIES?!! WHAT DO YOU MEAN "WONDERFUL "!??

When isabela let lose he was so hyped

Stayed silent when she said she was marrying for the family tho-

Likes Delores too but prefers isabela

Beel:

Movie? Is there gonna be popcorn?

Sits next to you with belghie leaning on his shoulder

Offers food

Pays enough attention to understand what's going on but not really

Likes antonio and mirabel

Not the biggest fan of alma but understands her pov and what she's been through

Still doesn't excuse how she treated mirabel

Belghie:

Was he asleep minority of the time? Mayyybe

But at least he has a favourite character!

It's Bruno-

Man seems chill and nice to hang with-

"Mc what's that thing he's wearing? A ruana? Oh okay, I want one. It looks comfy"

If mc knows how to make clothes and makes one for him he'll wear it then and there and tackle them with cuddles-

I hope this is good! I'm trying to get back into writing but it's been tough so idk when I'll write anything else but I had to basically juice my brain to get this going. Hope you like it :)

[miekasa]

mie….could we please get college au eren headcanons👉🏽👈🏽

Of course. I’m always thinking about his big head anyway <33 might as well put it good use.

One thing he learned in college is how to make his hyperfocus/fixation episodes work for him; that’s why he schedules all his classes as close together as possible. He’d rather have class back to back for 5 hours, than have it spread out with hours in between lectures, because that increases his changes of cutting.

You can always tell when he’s in class and/or what class he’s in by how much he responds to your messages. If he doesn’t text back at all, he’s in a class that hard or one he enjoys, or both. But if he’s sending you iMessage games, then you know he’s in his elective that he couldn’t care else about (and is probably cheating in someway somehow lmfao). 

He usually puts his phone on dnd when he’s in a class that’s important, but you’re in his favorite contacts, so your messages always ring through. What if it’s an emergency and you need him for something? Advanced Roots of Human Biology can wait. 

Some days there are one or two our breaks between his lectures, that’s just how the scheduling works out. When that happens, he usually sneaks into one of your lectures, or goes to your place to take a nap. Your roommates have become accustomed to him, honestly they’ve been considering giving him a key. 

Once, he didn’t realize that your lecture was basically a seminar, with you, the prof and maybe six other students. He still stayed lmao, and the prof was so amazed by his dedication, that she didn’t even mind. Occasionally, you’ll catch the two of them talking after lecture. It’s pretty cute the way she’s adopted him into the class even tho he’s not on the roster. 

You... have to show him where the library is lmfao. He genuinely has not stepped foot in one until you bring him to one. He likes it tho lmao once he gets used to it. 

Speaking of which, do not give him standard directions to find your classes on campus because all you’ll get is, “Babe, I’m gonna keep it real with you, I’ve never heard of the ‘West Quad’ a day in my life. What building are you near.”

He usually comes to see you in the library after all his lectures are done for the day. Sometimes he does homework, sometimes he’s just fucking around on his computer, sometimes he’s just bothering you. When you have to leave to go to class, he stays behind to watch your stuff so you don’t have to pack everything up and come back. 

Very protective when it comes to keeping your seat for you. No, you cannot take that chair to your table you good for nothing freshman; it’s reserved for you. 

He’ll drag you out of the library if you’ve been cooped up all day, tho. Eren will use his height and his strength against you to get you up. Placates you with kisses when he sees your angry expression, and promises to buy you food.

He takes your backpack for you when you’re walking together,m. His backpack is frustratingly light all the time, even during midterms. You swear all he’s got in there is a pencil and some flashcards. 

If you have night classes, he sticks around to walk you home after, especially in the winter when it gets dark faster. If he’s not already on campus, he’ll walk/drive back to meet you; he just doesn’t like you going home alone. Even if your friend/roommate is in the class with you, Eren will walk or drive the both of you home for his own sanity. 

He plays sports, so he usually has practice most evenings, but he’ll find a way to make time. If practice was particularly brutal, he’ll probably crash at your place.

He loves it when you come to meet him after practice. His whole face lights up and he waves obnoxiously, before he gathers up his stuff and all but sprints towards you. You get a cold water bottle to the face, or a bit of water splashed on you usually, which he takes immense amusement in. 

He knows it’s not possible for you to make it to all of his games, and usually it doesn’t bother him much; you’ve got your own life, and work to worry about. All he asks is that you wear his jersey, or any item of his sports apparel/merch on game day (he’s partial to hoodies).

By the time junior year rolls around, he’s not all that interested in attending parties that aren’t hosted by your friends; so, unless it’s at Connie, Jean, or Reiner and Bertholdt’s place, Eren will usually decline. Even team parties, he’s not crazy about unless it’s to celebrate a championship or something. He’d much rather celebrate with you. 

He does get excited about hosting parties though, and he and Jean become pretty damn good co-hosts. They don’t throw ragers, and that’s probably why Eren likes it so much. It’s usually your friend group and a couple plus ones, some good music, games, weed, and take-out. 

He’ll buy you coffee whenever you ask for it. The first time, he just orders something plain, not really knowing the difference between anything; but give it two or three tries, and he’ll get it perfect. He becomes so good that he can order you something new/different and you’ll love it. 

That’s kind of the start of his own coffee addiction, and more often than not, when he buys you a cup, he’s on his second or third of the day himself. The flavor has really grown on him, okay. 

He much prefers your apartment, but on occasion, he’ll ask you to come to his. You’ve been studying for so long, a change of environment should do you good, he claims. He’s a fucking liar tho because that’s all Eren Talk for “I do genuinely want you to come over, but my plans are to coerce you out of doing your assignments and doing me instead.”

Lmfao he adds you on Apple Watch Rings just so you can see him close his rings every day and laugh at you. Even if yours get closed by virtue of walking around campus or working out or whatever, his numbers are stupidly high because he fucking has practice at least 4 days of the week. 

Of course when you’re running on a soccer field for 2 hours every day, you close your Move Ring five times, Eren. Leave the rest of us alone.��

He buys you guys matching accessories for your keychains. It’s something pretty cute, and slightly random, but it reminded him of you. It also serves as a reminder to himself to take his fucking keys with him when he leaves his house. 

He sleeps like a fucking rock, so do not let him fall asleep in the library. Waking him up is a mission, and he’s never happy to be woken up. He looks kinda cute tho. 

He schedules dates for you and his friends. Usually by accident, but hear me out. Sometimes he’ll make plans with Armin, then forget that he has class or a test or something; so his solution is to text you, “hey, i forgot min and i were supposed to go some aquarium tomorrow but i have a midterm so here’s the pdf of my ticket, go with him for me, thanks babe love u” then, boop, you and Armin have an aquarium date Friday evening. 

The same thing happens with Mikasa, though, she usually catches the scheduling conflict before Eren does, and invites you out herself. You and Mikasa hang out quite a bit anyway, so it comes to the point where she tells you when she’s gonna hang out with Eren, so you can make yourself free for when he inevitably remember he has a game that day. 

Mikasa is most amazed that you’ve put up with Eren this long lmao. You’ve certainly lessened her Eren & Armin babysitting hours, and for that she’s eternally grateful. Also, she’s just happy to have another close friend. She loves Eren and Armin, but they’re not the most social beings, and she was literally their only friend besides the other for all their childhood PLEASE she’s so happy you’re around. 

It’s Mikasa, however, who babysits you and Eren whenever you both get too drunk. Says you guys are two peas in a pod (affectionate<2)

If you tell Eren something important that happened, like an internship you got, or a good grade in a class, or something, he usually relays that information to his mom pls. He texts her every day, and if she doesn’t ask for an update on you first, he gives her one.

Carla calls you sometimes, too. At least once every few weeks, just to check on you herself. She really likes you for Eren, and is grateful someone is willing to put up with her hotheaded son. 

Eren’s always using your fucking chapstick. Always. You know he has his own, so why he needs to use yours is beyond you. Finds time to make some dumbass comment about how it’s an “indirect kiss” every time he uses it too. Like bro, we’re dating, and have had many direct kisses why are you like this.

He posts on Instagram every few weeks or so, but you’re on his story every few days. Usually, it’s just a video of you minding your business and doing your work while Eren slowly zooms in before making some loud noise to surprise you, all so he can get your reaction on video and laugh at it. He’s annoying. 

He’s a bit of a copycat when it comes to the products you use. He’ll buy the same brand of pens as you (for that matter, all of his school supplies mirror yours because what does he know about the difference between A4 and A5 notebooks?), put a little hand sanitizer on his backpack like yours (and a lotion, too, for good measure), he even copies your Starbucks order until he finds one he likes for himself. It’s one of his love languages <3

If you’re wondering where your eyelash curler went, Eren stole it to try it on himself, hurt himself, vowed to never use it again, went back because he wanted to “do it right and not give up,” liked the results when he didn’t pinch his eyelid, and now it’s his. 

That being said, stop trying to put your Fenty lipgloss on him, it’s never going to happen. Eye makeup, maybe, only if you sit in his lap and he can have his hands on your ass while you do it. 

What he does love is letting you do his skincare. He will set aside dedicated skincare nights, he adores it. Easily one of his favorite things ever. 

You have his wallet. Not because he’s your sugar daddy or anything (although, if you want something, he’d definitely let you use his card to get it; and even if you bought something without asking, he wouldn’t think twice about it), but because he put it in your bag once and never took it out. 

When you tried to give it back, he just shook his head and told you to keep it, “I have my ID in my phone case anyway, and you’re less likely to lose it. Plus I put all my cards on Apple Pay, so I’m good.”

When you do make it to a game of his, he’s all over you when it’s over. Not in a cocky athlete boyfriend kind of way; in a very sleepy boyfriend kind of way. He’s usually got ice on at least one part of his body, and he’s got half his body weight on you as you walk to the car. 

By the time you guys get back to your place, he’s practically sleep walking. The only thing on his mind is taking a hot shower to soothe his muscles, and heading to bed. The aftermath of game days aren’t all that bad though, because even if you didn’t show, you’re always there to kiss him when he’s home and massage his shoulders, and cuddle him to sleep; and that’s his favorite part. 

[martianbugsbunny]

OUAT Thoughts Pt.32--Episodes 22-1

I have watched through S4E1; spoilers DNI. Also, spoiler warning for anyone further behind than I am.

—My feels have been decimated. I should’ve expected a scene wherein Rumple visited Bae’s grave, but I didn’t. OUCH. —It’s pretty cool that Snow and Charming named their son Neal. I wonder how Rumple feels about that.

—Men who wear rings are>>>>>>>>

—I just can’t stand that Dr. Hopper officiated Rumple’s wedding. *weeping happily* *definitely got hit in the feels again* *actually having a pretty good time for once* Is he licensed to do that tho? Also, I adore that he’s the kinda guy who cries at weddings 🥰

—I knew it was a bad idea for Emma to bring that lady back, but I didn’t know it would be this bad! Of all the ladies sentenced to death she could’ve saved, she had to save Marian?

—Look, I love Elsa more than life, but there ain’t no way she’s not gonna hog the spotlight at some point. Her own sister gets trampled to tell her story—which I don’t mind, because Elsa’s story kills me me in the most beautiful way—but these others characters don’t stand a chance.

—It’s so fun that Emma gets to be in the book now!

—I want Hook and Emma to be together, but I’m not entirely sure I have faith in her feelings for him. She’s acting kinda weirdy, so I’m not sure it’s completely legit.

—I’m so sick of Aurora and Philip. I hate them for being in Storybrooke.

—Time will tell whether I end up pleased with the Frozen characters or wish they’d just gone for a fresh Winter’s Child idea. So far, this is much more Frozen than any of the other stories have been their source material.

—I do know that I’m not thrilled with Elsa’s design. I would’ve liked her face to match her original design more—some purple eyeshadow, a darker shade of lipstick, and if not thick, at least full eyelashes. And her dress should’ve gone in the opposite direction; her ice clothes are literally impossible to recreate in a satisfactory manner. Besides, the other princesses don’t wear their signature clothes. (Hmmm…I’m starting to see a trend here.) I really would’ve loved to see a new Elsa dress, maybe reminiscent of the original, but something new and different. Also I’m mad that Anna is just wearing her movie outfit, too.

—But Elsa is still a gorgeous gorgeous girl. So pretty. Stunning.

—Sydney has really just been in the basement this whole time. Poor guy.

—The dancing scene with Belle and Rumple was outstanding. Using the Beauty and the Beast song? Iconic. Finally getting see Belle in a proper princessy dress? No complaints there. RUMPLE IN A FAIRYTALE PRINCE OUTFIT? I’M ABOUT TO COMBUST!!!!

—I’m glad I’m not Regina. Having Robin reaffirm his commitment to his marriage (note: not necessarily to Marian herself, cause he’s lived without her for a while) would’ve just made me fall in love with him more.

—I love the way this show depicts the way people change each other. It’s not just the big, dramatic things, like how Henry changed Regina or how Belle changed Rumple; it’s the little flashbacks that show us how Baelfire shaped Emma’s worldview. People are like different waves in the ocean: we bump into each other all the time, flowing into each other’s lives and experiences, and each time we do we shift each other’s trajectories ever-so-slightly. It’s beautiful.

—Yeah, I’m putting myself off the fence. I do not like the start the Frozen stuff has gotten. It’s too much like the movie.

—Lmao Belle’s last name is literally French.

—Is that the hat from the Sorcerer’s Apprentice? Because good golly I would like to see Yen Sid. Mickey Mouse might be a lil preposterous for this show, but Yen Sid could work.

—It’s kinda funny how all the important stuff just ends up in Rumple’s store. It’s also kinda funny that in all of Storybrooke’s crises, there hasn’t been a single mob raid on that store.

—Anna is serving some young Natalie Portman vibes (specifically, Padme) and I’m low-key here for it. I mean, I have my issues with Padme, but goshdarnit was she ever pretty.

—Am I finally get to know who wrote that book? I’ve been wondering that since the first season.

—The ice trail Elsa left behind while she was walking through Storybrooke had some major slug energy. Lol

—It might be kinda fun if Elsa and Anna’s parents were sort-of badguys in this movie. They were kinda s u s to begin with, might as well just go whole hog on it. Besides, bad parents are a theme in this show, so it wouldn’t even be out of place.

—I hope we get to see Elsa’s coronation. Have I already said I’m dubious on the Frozen stuff? Yes, I have. But…it has capacity to be different. It has the potential to tell Frozen’s story in a somewhat new way. And most importantly, it has the possibility of seeing Elsa in a pretty coronation outfit and crown.