#not that that has passed me by mind you. it's just that the true depth of it probably won't kick in until the weekend or so

[mybiasisexo]

Entangled - Part 12

Pairing: Chanyeol x f.Reader Chapter Warning: Language Word Count: 8.5k Author’s Note: ...Hello 🙂 How has everyone been 🙂? Please dont look how long its been since I updated okay???? Lets focus on the fact that its chapter 12!!! Im so shook that its still going tbh but can i get a little commotion for still writing this? we really outchea!!! This story turned 3 years old a couple days ago lol I def should've been finished it already but hey, thats life! I want to thank everyone still invested and hope you love this new chapter! We have 2 chapters left!!!! Chapter 13 and an epilogue 🥲 so so bittersweet. but you guys have at least another year before its done lmaoo yall: thats not funny 😡 While rereading this story i realized something and I just want to mention, to anyone reading this fanfic, this is NOT a sign to get back with your ex!!!! ONLY if hes an exo member than you can consider it until then this is a work of FICTION!!! Pls pls dont be like Mel irl i beg 😫 Also is there anyone reading this named Melody? I thought about that too. Like you see thats the big nickname reveal and am like 'ok? thats just my name 🧍🏾‍♀️' lmfaoooo thats a funny thought! As always, thank you everyone! Replies, reblogs, and asks are greatly appreciated here! You know I LOOOOOVE yalls commentary, youre all so funny and it makes me so giddy when you tell me how the story made you feel 💕 Adore you all and hope you get to see bbh and kai this summer 😘

Being back in Seoul after everything that happened is different.

You’re different.

Yet, life doesn’t wait for you to adjust back into the routine you had before Jeju. You try your best to fall back into the life you had spent years perfectly curating, but find it frustratingly difficult to do so.

The hardest adjustment is Yerim’s new found absence. She’s become such a common fixture in your life, practically living with you, that not seeing her at all is a huge blow. You miss her laugh, her rants about her job and school, her bickering. She’s as much your little sister as she is Seulgi’s and it hurts not having access to her the way you once had. But you understand, so have been giving her the space she needs. That doesn’t stop you from constantly pestering Seulgi about her. Her response is always the same–Yerim needs more time. You have a feeling she’s keeping her distance because she doesn’t want to see Chanyeol, and you’ve told Suelgi to send the message that he is not in the picture, but whether she received the news or not, Yerim has yet to contact you in any way. 

Months pass by in a boring yet restless blur. The only day that really stands out is your birthday, but even with the little party Seulgi throws for you, and the facetime call you have with Sehun, it doesn’t hold any true significance. You distract yourself by keeping busy, throwing yourself into your work and Jongdae’s upcoming baby shower, which you volunteered to help decorate. Eunhee laughs every time you send her new ideas, claiming you’re more excited than she is. You chalk it up to this being your job so you take it very seriously, but the truth is that you are beyond excited for that day to come, because you’re eager to see a certain face again.

The truth is that, despite your attempt to keep him out of your thoughts and just focus on yourself and the life you have built, Chanyeol has never left your mind. You find yourself wanting to call him, wanting to update him on everything that he missed. He’s the first person you want to rant to whenever you’re having a rough day, yearning for his touch when you fall asleep. You want to hear his laugh and see that special soft smile that fills you with love whenever it graces your presence. You can’t seem to get over him this time, can’t shove his presence back into the depths of your heart that way you have been doing for so long. He tore that door down, making sure that he’ll never be forgotten no matter how desperately you try. It’s enough to have you coming to terms with what you want out of your relationship. 

You just hope when that day comes, that he feels the same way.

You gave in once.

Two months after the wedding, you get a memory from six years ago on your phone. You know it’s probably not the healthiest, but you refuse to get rid of any pictures or videos of the two of you. The memory is a video. You’re walking into a familiar dining room where Chanyeol sits alone, a paper birthday hat on his head. When he notices you, his face brightens, and he falls back in his chair in an invitation. You ask if he had a good birthday as you climb into his lap and he says it was perfect. You turn the camera so that it's now facing the both of you. Chanyeol kisses your temple, your cheekbone, then your cheek, and mumbles, ‘thank you, baby’. He then turns his head so that your cheeks are pressed together as you both look at the screen reflecting your image back at you, ‘I love you,’ you answered simply, as if that was enough. And it was. He holds you closer, nuzzling into you and the video ends. 

It reminds you that it’s Chanyeol’s birthday, but you can’t bring yourself to wish him a happy birthday. Firstly, you don’t have his phone number, and secondly, you’re no contact right now and aren’t technically supposed to speak to each other.

Still, not saying anything eats at you for a couple days and you hatch up a risky plan.

You know the odds are slim, but something in your spirit encourages you to try.

And that’s how you find yourself holding your breath as the other line of your phone rings.

“Oh?” You hear once the call is answered. “What a pleasant surprise.”

“Hello, Baekhyun,” you greet in return, rolling your eyes at his sarcasm. 

“Darling.” You can hear the smirk curling his lips and know that he’s teasing you.

“What are you up to?” You ask, trying to sound nonchalant.

“About to get lunch. I’d invite you, but it’s kind of a date.”

“Oh?” You ask, surprised he even answered if he’s entertaining someone.

Before you can question him, you hear exactly what you were hoping for.

“A date? I’ll humor you because I know how desperate you–”

Chanyeol.

He’s there with him, right on the other side of the line.

“Anyways!” Baekhyun interrupts, loudly drowning Chanyeol out. “What are you doing, Sweetie?”

“Darling? Sweetie?” Chanyeol questions. “Sounds like you’re speaking to your actual date. Maybe you should invite them out instead.”

“Nonsense. It’s your birthday lunch. But….” Baekhyun pauses for dramatic effect. “Maybe I should. It might make you jealous though.”

“Jealous of you annoying somebody else? Not very likely.”

“I’m not annoying, am I?” Baekhyun then drops the bomb by saying your name.

That seems to shut Chanyeol up.

“She says I’m not,” Baekhyun tells Chanyeol, despite you never answering his question. “What? Nothing to say now?”

Baekhyun chuckles smugly, but then he’s yelling at you.

“Yah!” He says your name again. “You haven’t asked me anything about my date! Aren’t you curious?”

“I shouldn’t intrude,” you finally speak.

“Please. Let me introduce you.”

“No, really, it’s okay!”

It’s too late. You hear the shuffling of the phone being moved around followed by silence.

Finally, Chanyeol clears his throat and says your name questioningly.

The relief you feel at hearing his voice is so intense it brings tears to your eyes.

“Hi, Chanyeol.”

He gasps at the sound of his name leaving your lips, and when he speaks, it sounds as though he has yet to catch his breath. “Hi.”

“Oh, brother,” Baekhyun says.

“Shut up.” There’s some scuffling, and then Baekhyun yelping in pain.

“Is everything okay over there?” You ask.

“Yeah,” Chanyeol says. “How have you been?”

You’re giddy, like you’re talking to your school crush for the first time. Which, in a way, you are.

“I’ve been….” You contemplate telling the truth before settling on, “adjusting.”

“Same here.”

“Well, since I have you,” you say lightly, pretending this wasn’t the whole reason you called. “Happy birthday.”

“Thank you,” he says vehemently. “I think this may be my favorite gift.”

You can’t fight back the smile threatening to split your lips. “It’s not much.”

“It means more than you know.”

“If that’s the case, then I’m glad. Enjoy your date.”

“My date?” It takes him a moment to realize what you’re alluding to. Once he remembers, he snorts. “oh, that. Between you and me, I don’t think there will be a second one.”

“Aaaaand you’re done,” Baekhyun says.

“No, wait!”

Despite Chanyeol’s height, Baekhyun has no trouble snatching the phone back.

“This is what I get for being nice,” he mutters into the receiver.

“Aw, Baekhyun, I’m sure he appreciates the effort you’re putting in to make sure he has a good time.”

“For that, I’ll let you have a little treat.” He lowers his voice conspiring. “He hasn’t shut up about you since coming back.”

“Bro!” You hear a mortified Chanyeol in the background.

“Looks like we’re at our destination. It was great talking to you.”

“Likewise.” In a grateful tone you add. “Thank you.”

All the humor leaves Baekhyun’s voice as he responds. “Anything for you. I’m glad you called.”

The call ends and life goes on.

December comes and goes, only bringing the cold in its wake. Next thing you know it’s January.

You bring in the new year with a resolution to be more open to new experiences and to take more chances.

“I see you!” You say, excitement evident in your voice.

“You sure?”

“Can’t miss that big ol’ head of yours.”

“Um, have you seen yours? Okay, wait, I see you now.”

You hang up and run over to Sehun, who’s pace doesn’t change as he saunters towards you. Despite how aloof he appears, he drops everything he’s holding to catch you once you jump into his arms, his hold tight.

“You’re here! You’re here!” You cheer, jumping once you’re back on your feet. Sehun can’t help but laugh at your silly antics.

Movement catches your attention and you peek behind Sehun’s broad frame to see a handsome man slightly taller than you with big round warm eyes and thick eyebrows currently furrowed in confusion as he watches Sehun interact with you.

“You must be Do Kyungsoo.”

He locks eyes with you and a slight nervous smile pulls at his full lips as he dips his head in greeting. Unsatisfied, you break away from Sehun and yank the stranger into a hug, missing the way he glances at Sehun in a silent plea for help.

“I told you,” Sehun sighs disapprovingly as you pull away.

“It’s an honor.” You ignore Sehun’s quip. “I hope Sehun already told you that your payment for staying with me is dinner of the gourmet kind.”

“I didn’t think he was serious about that,” he answers, laughing awkwardly as he readjusts the thick frames on the bridge of his nose.

“I don’t joke about food.” 

Kyungsoo lifts an eyebrow and blinks owlishly at you.

You decide you like him.

With a dazzling smile, you grab Sehun’s hand. “Let’s go!”

You lead the two men out of the airport, helping them put their luggage in the trunk before peeling out into the city.

“God, it’s been forever since I’ve been in Seoul,” Sehun says as he takes in the frosty scenery flying past.

“What about you, Kyungsoo?” You ask, searching out his gaze through the rearview mirror.

“I went to school here,” he informs.

“That’s how I met him, remember?” Sehun says.

“Oh yeah. I forgot. You were in the culinary program at our college.”

“Graduated early because he’s a genius,” Sehun praises. You don’t miss the way Kyungsoo’s face grows pink, but he remains silently looking out the window.

It’s weird in a way, meeting a close friend of Sehun’s that you yourself aren’t close to. It’s a grim reminder of your growing distance and the passage of time. You know you don’t really have a right to feel the slight tinge of jealousy from hearing Sehun compliment his friend. You have Seulgi, and Sehun has never made a big deal about your friendship. You think it has more to do with the fact that you’re not as close anymore. It leaves your heart slightly aching. 

Sehun and Kyungsoo tell you about the flight as you bring them to your apartment where they will be staying for the weekend. Seulgi and you had to get creative, because you don’t have any spare rooms. It was decided the boys would take the rooms and you would share the sofa bed in the living room.

Seulgi’s home when you arrive, doing some last minute cleaning.

“You look pretty,” you point out when you spot her finishing wiping down a counter in your kitchen. She gives you a guilty lip glossed grin before her attention is given to your guests.

“Sehun!” She embraces her long time friend and then sets her attention to the newcomer. She points at him. “The chef?”

“That’s me,” Kyungsoo says, lifting a hand with a crooked grin that makes his already handsome face even more attractive, if that’s even possible.

Seulgi’s smile is wide as she shakes his hand. “It’s nice to finally meet you. Sehun’s said so much.”

“All good things I hope.” 

“Sehun never says anything good about anyone,” Seulgi  points out.

“It’s a talent,” Sehun brags.

“Seulgi….” Kyungsoo says her name as their hands separate, testing it out as he racks his brain. “I believe Sehun has said something good about you before. That you make phenomenal art?”

She lights up at that. “He has?! Sehun!”

He sighs and throws an arm around your shoulders. Shrugging, he says, “I’m not a complete monster.”

“Should I show you your room?” You ask him. You take in the other two, noticing the way they seem to be watching each other. “Seulgi, why don’t you show Kyungsoo where he’ll be sleeping for the next couple days?”

“Oh, right!” She jumps at the sound of her name. Remembering herself, she leads the way, mouthing an ‘oh my god’ as she passes by. You giggle. Seulgi has been interested in Sehun’s chef friend since the first time she saw a picture of him on Sehun’s instagram. Kyungsoo isn’t aware, but this moment has been years in the making.

Now alone, you turn in Sehun’s grasp, wrapping an arm around his slender waist. “I knew this was going to happen. What are you going to do when they fall in love and he doesn’t want to go back to Busan?”

“Put Seulgi in the luggage. You’ll be moving in with Chanyeol soon anyways.”

“It hasn’t even been an hour yet and you’re already bringing him up?” You pull away and move you guys to your bedroom.

“Come on,” he sings as he plops onto your mattress like he owns the place. He puts his arms behind his head as he rests against the headboard and it hits you that he’s actually here. It takes everything not to start crying and running around the room in excitement. “Tomorrow is D-day, excuse me for being excited for you.”

Jongdae’s baby shower is tomorrow, and of course, Sehun is fully aware of the promise you made with Chanyeol in the gazebo. That day feels like it was both years ago and yesterday.

Sehun nudges your knee with his foot. “Stop playing it cool. I know you're excited too. You got that crazy look in your eyes.”

“What crazy look?” You ask as you sit at the edge of the bed beside his calves.

“Exactly what I said. You look like you’re up to no good.”

You huff a breath. “I’m just nervous.”

“Why?”

“What if he decides he doesn’t want to get back together?”

“He won’t.”

“But what if he does?”

Sehun purses his lips, contemplating. “Then you respect his decision, put on a brave face, and then cry in my arms when the party’s over. Okay?”

You nod dejectedly.

“I take it you’ve decided you want a second chance?”

“Yeah,” you admit. “I forgive him. I….” You look at your best friend. “I love him, Sehun. I really do. I want to be with him.”

Sehun’s expression turns soft and he drags you over his frame, hugging you. “Aigoo, my baby is all grown up.”

You let out a watery laugh and allow yourself to bask in your emotions. You’ve used this time exactly how you were supposed to. You have been able to process your feelings and separate your past self from your present self, and the present you is just as in love with Chanyeol as you were back then.

That is what makes you so nervous. You’ve changed so much. What if you give it another shot, but you don’t fit the same way you once had? What if he can’t bring himself to love this new version of you?

You shove away your doubts. Now isn’t the time to wallow on hypotheticals. Your best friend is here, in your arms, and tomorrow you’re going to bask in another friend’s joy. You’ll worry about that other stuff if they become a reality.

Since you voluntarily took charge of planning this baby shower, you have to head out early to the venue to set up. Sehun decides to join you, leaving the other two to get ready together. The chemistry between them is obvious and you wonder how the weekend is going to go for them.

The baby shower is being held in a party room that has large doors that lead to a botanical garden. Being that it’s mid January, the vegetation is frozen over and unbroken snow covers the ground. It still holds a whimsical charm and anyone that dares to venture out will find beautiful ice sculptures. The inside is a small room, which is perfect for an intimate celebration.

You are the first to arrive, along with some of your crew. Not even the parents-to-be are present, which is exactly how you planned it because you want to surprise them. This is your baby gift. You want to bring the warmer vibes of the gardens, so you have pink, purple, and blue plants and flowers overflowing vases in every corner. Sage green clothes cover the tables. 

Sehun refuses to lift a finger to help, which is annoying but unsurprising. You bring in a large wicker chair and put it at the head of the room. It will serve as Eunhee’s throne. Since she’s so far along, you don’t want her moving too much if she can help it and the chair is very comfortable, if Sehun sitting in it practically the whole time without complaint is any indicator.

“Oh my god!” You hear nearly two hours later. Turning, you see Jongdae and Eunhee enter. The two take everything in, Eunhee with watery eyes. She’s the one who spoke. “It’s beautiful!”

“Absolutely perfect,” Jongdae agrees, shaking his head in awe as he scans the place. You give Eunhee a big hug. She’s someone who came into the picture post college, yet fit right in. There is no one else you’d rather have carry your friend’s child.

“I'm glad you like it,” you say as you lead her to her throne. She notices Sehun and beams, singing his name as he stands to embrace her.

“‘Like’ doesn’t do it justice. You killed it,” Jongdae praises as he hugs you. When you pull away, he finally spots Sehun. “And did you help, Sehun?”

“Of course,” Sehun scoffs. “This was all my idea.”

“The only ‘helping’ Sehun supplied was keeping Eunhee’s chair warm.” You roll your eyes as the boys dap each other up. “Which, by the way, you’re expected to be in most of the day. I don’t want you lifting a finger for nothing!”

“Not even to eat?” She asks, rubbing her swollen belly.

“Nope. That’s what Jongdae’s for.”

Jongdae–and Sehun, finally–help with the last finishing touches as you monitor everything and lead everyone where they need to go. 

It’s around two when people start showing up. Eunhee’s parents are the first to arrive. You’re already exhausted, sitting in a chair with your bare feet propped up on another, gobbling down some baby shower meatballs. Eunhee’s mother finds you and immediately asks what she can do to help, and you’re beyond thankful to give someone else the reins, even though everything is pretty much set up.

Jongdae’s cousin, Kim Minseok, is the next to arrive. He comes in carrying the cake that holds the baby’s gender inside, and is the sole person that already knows. You’ve met the older gentleman a few times before and he gives major big brother vibes. He’s the strong and silent type, never saying much, but when he does it’s either something incredibly profound, or something so extremely out of pocket you have to side eye Jongdae.

When Minseok comes in, he kisses your cheek in greeting and smiles so widely you’re left blushing and stuttering when he asks where you want him to put the cake. 

It’s a moment still until familiar guests start to show up. The party officially starting means you’re now allowed to enjoy it as merely a guest, even though that doesn’t stop you from checking things from time to time to make sure everything’s running smoothly. All the positive words about the venue don’t go amiss and you smile proudly at succeeding in making a beautiful shower for your friends.

Sehun, who left your side the moment Jongdae walked in, remembers you’re there and nudges you. “Let’s take some pictures before the line gets long.”

He leaves little room for you to argue, dragging you over to a balloon arch you both spent way too much time finding the right spot for. There’s a professional photographer there who gets some good shots of the two of you. When Sehun is satisfied with the amount of pictures taken, you leave the arch and your eyes carry over to the wicker chair Eunhee still sits upon. Her head is lifted nearly straight up to meet the eye of the tall man conversing with her. The height is very familiar and your heart skips a beat as you realize that Chanyeol has finally arrived.

Swiftly, you turn to the opposite side of the room, and you’re glad you do because you find Junmyeon and Nayeon awkwardly standing there.

“Myeon!” You gasp and race over to your friend. Sehun sucks his teeth, but follows after you, knowing what you’re doing but just as eager to see Junmyeon.

Junmyeon says your name in the same tone and holds his arms out wide for you to fall into. Unsurprisingly, this is the first time you’re seeing him since the wedding. He holds you tightly and you think that he gives Jongin a run for his money with how comforting he feels.

“What’s all this I hear about you having drama at my wedding?” He asks into your ear.

You wince as you pull back. “I have no idea what you’re talking about. I was on my best behavior.”

“Ah.” he nods in understanding. “So, it was all Chanyeol then?”

“Isn’t it always?” You ask innocently.

Junmyeon chuckles and shakes his head. “I fear I missed out on a lot that weekend.”

“You had bigger things to worry about,” you assure, patting his shoulder because you can tell that he feels bad for not being there with everyone. Junmyeon is the father figure of the group and takes his role very seriously. Sometimes you forget he’s only a couple years older than you because he treats you more like a daughter than a friend at times. “Like marrying this lovely lady.”

You turn to Nayeon, reaching out to embrace her. Her smile is bright as she falls into your hug. You aren’t sure if it’s seeing her walk down the aisle or the solidification of her role in your life, but the hug feels like a new chapter in your relationship. 

“It’s good to see you,” she says, and it sounds sincere.

Separating, your smile matches hers. “You too. How was the honeymoon?”

Her smile turns shy. “Too short.”

“Oh, I bet! I didn’t get the chance to tell you, but you were absolutely stunning on your wedding day.”

“Thank you.” She grabs your hand, giving it a squeeze.

Junmyeon calls your name, gaining your attention. He takes in your interaction with unabashed pleasure. It has been no secret that you’ve had a hard time cracking his wife’s shell. “Sehun tells me you set this place up?”

“And did.”

“You should do mine next.”

You blink. “Will it be soon?”

Turning to Nayeon, you raise a questioning brow. She’s quick to shake her head. 

“No,” Junmyeon verbally answers. “But you know how the saying goes. First comes love, then comes marriage….”

“Then comes a very expensive baby shower, because I don’t work for free.”

“You told me this was a gift.” You glare at Seulgi, who joins your growing circle with Kyungsoo in tow.

“Yeah, but Jongdae isn’t a millionaire.”

Junmyeon frowns. “I’m not one either.”

“But, you will be. So, I will be overcharging.” You shrug.

“Everyone,” Sehun, who is bent at a weird angle so that he can rest his head on Junmyeon’s shoulder. Myeon has an arm thrown over Sehun’s neck, holding him close. Sehun is Junmyeon’s overgrown baby and it’s painfully obvious whenever they’re together. Sehun gestures next to him. “This is my good friend and business partner, Do Kyungsoo.”

It’s so strange how easily Kyungsoo seems to fit in with your group. He gives that half grin that you’re starting to find endearing and bows his head slightly in greeting. His cheeks grow pink at the attention Sehun throws onto him.

You lock eyes with Seulgi and ask her a telepathic question.

Her smile is soft. “I’m behaving.”

“Why?” You nudge her shoulder and she returns the gesture.

“So, this is where everyone’s hiding!” You hear Baekhyun’s unmistakable voice and then he’s popping up between Sehun and Kyungsoo.

You turn to give your attention to your loud friend, but end up locking eyes with someone else.

Chanyeol is standing directly across from you in the circle your friend’s have created. For a moment, you’re back in Jeju, at the table seeing him for the first time in years.

You have been anticipating this moment for weeks. You’ve pictured it numerous times, played out different scenarios on how you would respond to him. The skip of your heart, the small gasp that leaves you, the duling of your senses are all expected. What is surprising to you is a relief and longing so strong it nearly carries you across the space separating you both.

And he’s staring back at you with this content look in his eyes. None of the relief or longing currently rushing through your veins are reflected back at you, and your heart sinks as nerves take over.

Chanyeol appears…calm. Friendly. It’s as if Jeju never happened, as if he hadn’t desperately begged you to take him back. 

As if he moved on.

You drop your graze, ears burning in embarrassment for being so excited. You can already taste rejection on your tongue, and mentally curse yourself for believing for one moment that Chanyeol meant it when he said he would always want you.

You can’t resist taking a second peek to take in his form, seeing how he must have spent these last few months in the gym. His arms and shoulders are noticeably bigger, the cozy sweater he wears stretches over the new muscle tantalizingly. He must have dyed his hair black at some point and it washed out to a darker brown closer to his natural shade, instead of the sun bleached brown he was rocking in Jeju.

A shoulder bumps you and you lift your head to see Jongin with a teasing grin on his face. It drops the moment he sees your expression, and he says your name, concerned, drawing the attention of some others.

“I’m sorry. I have to do something,” you say, quickly leaving to collect yourself before anyone can question you. 

You don’t get far before Minseok stops you. He rests his hands on your shoulders, holding you far enough to intently study your face.

“Sir?” You say, wondering what he’s doing.

He tilts his head. “Only tears of joy today.”

You purse your lips. How does he know?

He pats your head. “Eunhee’s mom wants us to prepare the games. Come on.”

You sigh but follow Minseok to set up the games. A few of your friends partake in them. You forgot just how damn competitive Chanyeol is. He wins all four. One requires teams and you’ve never been more embarrassed by your friends in your life.

When the games are done, Eunhee starts opening gifts. You take this time to sit in a little corner alone, taking the party in and giving yourself a moment to congratulate yourself on a successful party. It’s beautiful and everything is moving smoothly. After the presents, the couple will cut the cake to reveal the gender, and then the party will wrap up. You wonder where your talk with Chanyeol will fit in. You don’t want to ruin this day for yourself, so maybe once it’s over will be best? The suspense is killing you though, you’re not really sure if you can last much longer. You’ve caught Chanyeol’s eye a few times since leaving the circle, and each time he’s given you a small smile or nod before going back to whatever he was doing. Nothing long enough to gain any more insight on his state of mind. Maybe he’s nervous? Maybe he’s healed? Maybe he’s dreading having to let you down easy?

Your brief moment of solitude is disturbed when Baekhyun slides into the seat beside you. 

“There you are,” he says, relief evident in his voice. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you.”

You sink into your chair, crossing your arms over your chest. “I haven’t been hiding, Baekhyun.”

He frowns at your tone. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” you answer too quickly, too sharply. You exhale and start again. “I’m just nervous, I guess.”

“About the party?” he pushes, and you know he knows why, he’s just being careful on how to bring it up. “Or… something else?”

You lift an eyebrow at him. “You know the answer to that.”

Baekhyun scoots closer to you. “You have no reason to be nervous. Chanyeol’s going to meet you where you stand, wherever that is.”

“Are you sure?” You ask. You catch the man of the hour hand Jongdae a present. The father-to-be narrows his eyes suspiciously at him. It’s a very cute interaction and it makes your heart flutter despite everything.

Baekhyun tilts his head in confusion, resembling a puppy. “Yeah? Do you not remember anything that happened in Jeju? it was never Chanyeol’s feelings that were ever in question. Just yours.”

A smug grin stretches his lips. “But you figured yours out, didn’t you? I remember when you just so happened to call me around Chanyeol’s birthday. Y’know that was quite the little coincidence.” His smile grows, showing his perfect teeth. “You wanted to talk to him.”

“Stop.”

He pokes your side. “Admit it! You want to get back with Chanyeol and you’re nervous because you believe there might be a chance he actually rejects you.”

“Ew. It sounds so…cringey when you say it out loud.”

“Is that you admitting that you’re still in love with him?”

You roll your eyes. “Yes, okay? I am! I…I still love Chanyeol, and I’m ready to give us another try. Happy?”

He pulls you into a tight hug, swaying you from side to side. “Beyond! I’ve been waiting for this moment for years! I’m so happy for you!”

“We’re not back together yet, Baekhyun.”

“Yet,” he points out, and that for some reason, calms your nerves, and you relax against him.

A deep voice clearing catches your attention, causing you to grow rigid in Baekhyun’s hold. Slowly, you separate from Baekhyun and lift your head to see Chanyeol hovering over you both.

He gives Baekhyun a stern look, and the shorter man snorts before lifting his hands in surrender.

Chanyeol faces you, but he can’t quite meet your eye as he asks, “have you seen the ice sculptures yet?”

This is the moment. Chanyeol is inviting you to have your talk. 

You shake your head. “I actually haven’t. Do… you want to see them?”

“Only if you want to.”

You nod enthusiastically and hear Baekhyun giggle but ignore it. “Okay. Yeah. Just, uh, let me get my coat.”

You don’t know if it’s guidance or reassurance you seek that has you turning to Baekhyun nervously. He supplies both by tilting his head in Chanyeol’s direction encouragingly. Stiffly, you get to your feet  and lead the way to the coat stand. Chanyeol takes your coat from you, holding it out to help you put your sleeves in.

“Thank you,” you whisper as he shrugs on his own.

He gives you a derpy grin. “My pleasure.”

All bundled up, you head out to the gardens. Only a few footprints stamp out the snow, showing how little people have dared to step outside. You don’t blame the others, it’s freezing. Your face goes numb almost instantly, but it’s still a sight to see. All the bushes have frozen over, and arches that appear as ice  line the trail. The setting sun and multicolored fairy lights scattered around add a sense of whimsy, making it feel like you’ve stepped into a parallel universe where fairies live.

“Boy or girl?” Chanyeol randomly asks as you both casually walk the path.

“Huh?”

“The baby,” he clarifies. “Do you think it’s going to be a boy or a girl?”

“A girl,” you decide. “Jongdae is such a girl dad.”

“You’re right. He totally is.”

“Good job back there,” you say, nudging your thumb over your shoulder where the party continues without you. “I’m sure all of Eunhee’s family are terrified of you.”

He chuckles at that and it’s music to your ears. “I do tend to get carried away.”

“I’ve never seen someone so serious about changing a diaper.”

“And I did it in ten seconds! That’s pretty impressive, you gotta admit.”

You give a noncommittal hum. “Fatherhood will be easy for you then.”

“You think?” He asks, eyes absolutely sparkling at the idea. 

“I do.”

“Oh, well… I think you’d make an amazing mother.”

“Really?” You ask, surprised. You’ve never really given motherhood much thought. It’s something so out of reach that you never entertain it. You did once, back when you wore your engagement ring. Chanyeol and you had discussed parenthood a few times. At the time, you’d both agreed you were way too young to think about starting a family, but now you’re in your late twenties, so you guess it’s something you should consider more.

“You’re a caretaker,” he continues. “Take today for example, I bet you were just supposed to decorate, right?”

“Yeah,” you admit quietly.

“Yet you ended up putting the whole thing together. You take care of the people you care about. You always have.”

“I never thought of it like that,” you admit.

He shrugs. “I’m just stating a fact.”

You come across your first sculpture. It’s an impressive six-foot ice dragon. You both stop to take it in.

“It’s impressive,” you remark.

Chanyeol nods. “I bet it took hours to sculpt.”

“Kinda sad it’s going to melt. Feels almost like a waste.”

“That’s the tragedy of art, but there’s beauty even in that.”

You’re quiet for a bit.

“I started going to a new cafe,” is what comes out of his mouth next. His attention never leaves the dragon, not even when your head snaps over to him in shock.

You know what he’s trying to say, that he no longer sees Yerim. His admission knocks the wind out of you, but you’re able to collect  yourself. “I’m sure the old one misses you.”

“Nah,” he’s quick to dismiss. “Though I hear I leave quite the impression.”

You click your tongue at that, which garners a small laugh from him, seeing humor in your reaction. Needing to change the subject, you give him a once over, taking in his reddening cheeks, the paleness of his skin contrasting beautifully with the darkness of his eyes. He’d thrown on a beanie to keep his ears warm, and despite them being covered, he still resembles a freakishly giant elf. Speaking of giant, his new mass overwhelms you. You can definitely notice the difference in his size compared to a few months ago.

“You’ve been working out,” you say.

He glances down at you, looking rather pleased. “You noticed?”

“How could I not? You’re towering over me.”

The tip of his tongue catches between his teeth. He likes that phrase, and you’re reminded that he has a size kink. You’re not that much shorter than him (this may be denial speaking) but being even an inch smaller is enough to get him going.

“It’s a newly acquired hobby I picked up after returning from Jeju,” he explains.

“I see….” And you do. It was something to fill the time, something to distract himself from the fact that you were once again not in his life, and wouldn’t be for a while.

The two of you leave the dragon and continue to the next sculpture. Chanyeol senses your understanding and presses, “so, have you gotten any ‘hobbies’ since I last saw you?”

You lift your arms out like a shrug and gesture around you. “This.”

He takes in the winter wonderland. “Then you spent it wisely.”

“It kept me busy for sure, but I’ll admit it wasn’t enough to distract me completely.”

Chanyeol nods in understanding. “It’s been difficult… going back to how things were before.”

A sharp laugh leaves your throat before you can stop it. His words feel like an understatement.

The next sculpture is an eight foot replica of the Eiffel Tower.

“I was foolish enough to believe that I could continue living the way I had been before the trip,” you admit, taking in all the little details of the ice. “But I outgrew that life the moment I landed on that stupid island.”

You can feel Chanyeol studying you, as if you are the one carved from ice. You wonder if he sees the tragedy of your design, that you’ve been melting, and if he still finds it as beautiful.

“Jeju changed us,” Chanyeol agrees. “How has it changed you?”

You meet his gaze, yours steady and unwavering. “It made me realize where I wanted you in my life.”

Chanyeol takes you in, gulps, and turns abruptly. You gape at his retreating back for a moment before jogging after him. His long legs close the distance to the next sculpture in record time. There are only two left and this one is of a beautiful woman, looking down at her plump belly that she cradles lovingly. You swear you can see Eunhee’s features etched into the clear face.

Chanyeol’s squinting up at the face, most likely noticing the same thing  and contemplating whether it is your friend or not.

“You ran,” you accuse once you’re standing beside him, out of breath.

His features smooth over, becoming expressionless. “You scared me.”

“That’s funny,.” He turns to you questioningly. “That’s how I felt when I saw you earlier.”

His eyebrows furrow. “Why?”

“You looked at me like….” You lick your drying lips. “Like you had moved on.”

“That’s what you saw?” he asks skeptically.

You give your attention back to the Eunhee sculpture. “Did I misread you?”

“Immensely,” he says, voice flat and intense. When you work up the courage to look at him again, you see a fire has built inside him that the cold tried to snuff out, but it burns through, warming you in turn.

“Oh,” is really all you can say under his scrutinizing glare.

“I’m sorry for scaring you earlier,” he says, still intense. “And for running. What were you going to say? Where do you want me now?”

“I….” You take a deep centering breath and tell him the truth. “I want you right where you are now. Beside me.”

A shocked laugh leaves him in a puff of condensation that bellows around you, stinging your cheeks. It feels like a caress, like contact, and it  makes you confident enough to proceed with your confession. “I've missed you so much, Chanyeol. Not just since coming back from jeju, but since calling off the wedding all those years ago. I’ve carried that suffering with me everyday, pretending I was fine, that I had moved on. But, after returning from the island, no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t avoid it anymore. It was too heavy a weight. All I’ve wanted since is to see your face, to hear your voice, to…to be with you. Not the college boy that I fell in love with, but the man that you’ve become. I want to rediscover you, I want to learn your new habits and meet your new friends. I want to be a part of your life again…. I want to be with you, Park Chanyeol.”

You can feel your throat constricting, and tears start to blur the vision of the man you love taking in every word you say as if they are bible. You inhale sharply, it sounds more like a gasp, as you try to control your emotions. Clearing your throat, you voice your doubt. “That being said, if you’ve decided that you don’t feel the same way, and just want your closure to finally move on, I respect that. This isn’t only about what I want. You have a say in this relationship too. So… where do you want me?”

The wobble in your voice seems to echo off the ice surrounding you in the silence that follows as Chanyeol hesitates to answer. At least it feels like hesitation. Is he debating how to let you down gently? Or is he still trying to process your revelation?

Finally, after what feels like hours, he says, “there’s one more sculpture.”

You follow Chanyeol wordlessly, your heart plummeting from his lack of response. The last sculpture is ironic in a way, depending on how this conversation goes. It’s two swans, their heads pressed together and their necks curving into the shape of a heart. 

Chanyeol is grinning as he takes it in. “I think this one might be my favorite.”

“It does have a certain charm to it,” you say sullenly. 

Chanyeol’s smile stretches, but he doesn’t say anything. You both quietly take in the birds, you wait patiently for Chanyeol to answer your question. 

“The gym isn’t the only thing that has been keeping me busy these past months,” Chanyeol shares. “When I came back, I found new inspiration, and have been writing music nonstop.” He chuckles. “My company has been very happy about that.”

“That’s good to hear.” you say, and you mean it. You know how much music means to the man before you, he bleeds chords and rhythms. Being able to make money doing what he loves is an honor not many people get to have. You’re so very proud of him for being able to have others hear his talent.

“Yeah. I took your advice. I truly thought about what you mean to me. I wrote those feelings down in songs and worked through the pain, the confusion, the hurt, and the hope. When I showed my music to my company, they asked me what had changed, and I told them the truth.” He shifts to face you head on and reaches out to grab your hand. “That I found my muse.”

Your breath gets caught in your throat as he continues. “I guess it’s more like rediscovered my muse, because it’s the same one as always. All of my music is about you. Only you. You ask where I want you in my life? The answer is simple. I want you everywhere. You’ve always been everywhere. You’re the melody of my life.”

You blink back the new flood of tears bombarding your eyes, overwhelmed by his words. 

He is watching you tenderly, and you swear you see his eyes as shiny as yours. The hand not holding yours cups the side of your face and you shiver from the icy bite, but it thaws so quickly you end up leaning into it. “I want to be with you too. It will always be you, Mel.”

The tears finally fall, and Chanyeol is there to catch them, to catch you. You both let out airy laughs, relief and joy bubbling in your throats as the situation dawns on you. 

“We’re really going to do this?” You ask, in shock. “You and me? We’re going to try again?”

“Yes,” Chanyeol confirms, resolute. “And we’re going to get it right this time. I’m not letting you go again. I don’t care what excuse you try next time.”

You shake your head. “You won’t have to worry about a next time.”

You pull back slightly and take out your phone, handing it to him. “Can I have your number?”

He grabs the device from you. “Are you asking me out on a date?”

You scowl. “Absolutely not! You’ll have to do the asking, sorry.”

“I think I can manage that,” he says as he types away. He gives the phone back, fingers brushing yours when you retrieve it. 

You stare at one another, only one thing in both of your minds. What did Chanyeol say last time? Seal it with a kiss? Well, that’s what you want to do now, you want to kiss him so bad your body shakes in yearning. Chanyeol gathers as much, his head slowly lowering to grant your wish, and you wonder briefly if you’re making that face again. His nose brushes against yours and you tilt your head back to lift your lips higher for him to reach.

Cheering shatters the moment, bringing you both back to the frozen yard of your friends’ baby shower.

You gasp. “The cake!”

You both rush back inside, making it in just in time to see Jongdae and Eunhee at the table, frosting and tears on their faces as they celebrate. You see a piece has been cut out of the cake, revealing the color inside.

It’s pink. 

“You’ve been staring at your phone all day,” Sehun points out. 

You immediately drop the block of technology. Groaning, your head falls into your hands. It’s been nearly forty-eight hours since Jongdae’s baby shower ended, and you have yet to message Chanyeol. You’re overthinking, naturally. Even though Chanyeol made it obvious that he wanted to try again, there is that inkling of doubt that keeps you from initiating conversation. You regret asking for his number. You should have given him yours, put the pressure on him instead. He had the chance to text himself, but you were dismayed when you realized he hadn’t. He was again, putting the ball in your court, going at your speed. Now why would he do that when he knew you? You assume this is a test, and you’re failing miserably. 

“Stop torturing yourself and text him already.”

You shift some fingers enough to glare at your best friend that sits  across from you on your pale wooden table. He blinks at you, the poster child of unbothered.

Sighing, you straighten in your seat. “I’m spending time with you right now. Everything else can come later.”

“Uh-huh. Lucky for you, I’m used to you using me as an excuse.”

You gasp dramatically. “I’ve done no such thing!”

He grins and reaches over to hold your hand. Sehun and Kyungsoo are leaving in a couple hours. You’re waiting for the other pair. Seulgi’s helping Kyungsoo get his stuff together, but they disappeared a while ago.

“I told you it was going to work out,” Sehun murmurs.

You smile sweetly. “I’m not going to say you were right, just so you know.”

He pouts at that. “Either way, I know you believe it. Look, you’re back with Chanyeol. Isn’t that crazy?”

“So crazy.” You shake your head. “I feel like I’m dreaming.”

“Then don’t sabotage yourself again,” he says in that casual way he does. “Text him. Call him. Either way, talk to him. Let him know how much you want this. You have to if you want it to work this time. Communication and all that.”

You swallow thickly, fear coating your throat. “Right. Communication.”

Sehun stands and walks around the table to drag you to your feet. He pulls you into a hug, kissing the crown of your head. “You got this. Next time I see you, you’re going to be hand-in-hand with Chanyeol.”

You return his hug tightly, missing him already. 

“Now,” he starts. “let's check on those two. We have to leave soon.”

He drags you to Seulgi’s door, opening it without knocking and you deeply regret it when you notice the pair in various states of undress, hungrily making out.

“Oh!” You’re not sure who said it. Maybe you, maybe Seulgi. But the new couple scramble to make it look like they weren’t just eating each other’s faces.

Sehun guffaws and you cover your fallen jaw.

“Kyungsoo!” Sehun calls between chortles. “I didn’t know you had it in you, man!”

“Fuck off,” Kyungsoo bites, face the color of a tomato as he looks anywhere but where a human stands.

“We have to leave in ten,” you say slowly, fighting a smile as you watch Seulgi attempt to pack, back facing you.

“We’ll be out there,” Kyungsoo confirms.

“Will you?” Sehun goads. “Or are you just going to finish what you started the minute we walk away?”

“Ten minutes, got it!” Seulgi shoves you both out of her room, slamming the door in your face. 

Sehun and you lock eyes and then burst out laughing.

“I told you!” You said when you catch your breath.

“Now you really have to text Chanyeol,” he says. “You’ll need a new roommate soon.”

An hour later, you’re alone in your room, once again staring at your phone. At the contact that merely says ‘Park Chanyeol’.

You remember the last moment you had with him. When the baby shower was settling and people were starting to leave. All of you were huddled together and Jongdae and Eunhee made you all take some photos, claiming how this was the first time in years that everyone actually was present like this. 

You remember how you all huddled together, how Kyungsoo tried to slink away, but Sehun grabbed his collar, holding him hostage next to Jongin who started chatting his ear off as though he’s known him for years. Minseok was also there, having what appeared to be a very serious conversation with Baekhyun.

You felt a body press against your back, and glanced behind you  to see Chanyeol shyly looking down at you.

“Is this okay?” he asked, voice gentle, fragile.

You nodded, voice caught in your throat. The photographer set her camera up, and someone in the back of the group stumbled, causing a bunch of you to lurch forward. Chanyeol steadied you with a hand on your hip, and kept it there once you were stable again. You made no move to remove it, and your silent approval had him relaxing against you. You held your breath, heart racing as you posed for the photos. The happiness you felt in the moment you were sure was perfectly captured. 

Of course, the others noticed, but surprisingly didn’t mention anything. Only giving you both approving or knowing looks.

You swear you can still feel his body against yours, his large hand holding you close. He wants this, you remind yourself. He never stopped loving you, so stop being a little bitch and text him! Go get your man!!!

Encouraged, you don’t think and send a message. it’s a simple ‘hey, it’s me’, but you might as well have thrown your heart at him.

You stare at the bright screen. Watch as those cursed bubbles start bouncing as Chanyeol types a response to your message. Then go away. Then come back. Then disappear. Then–

Chanyeol: Took you long enough, Mel

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[saltomortal]

they don't tell you how incredible it feels to watch someone else overcome their old fear-induced limitations at personal growth school

[mercurianchild]

hey love! what does a Plutonian chart look like? i'm not sure if I have one. how would that affect me?

Strong influence of Pluto…

What a strong Plutonian influence of Pluto in the chart could look like:

Pluto in the 1st, 4th, 7th and 10th house

Pluto aspecting inner planets (Mercury, Venus and Mars)

Pluto strongly aspecting the moon and ascendant, especially tight orbs

TW: mentions of s*x and death!!

Being Pluto dominant or having a strong influence of Pluto means that transformations, ego deaths, feelings of death and rebirth will accompany you for a life time. From my experience, this will be especially harsh in the childhood, youth and maybe in your early adult years. As time passes and as you get older, you might develop self care habits and safety mechanisms to protect yourself and your inner peace. Practising self love, meditation and mindfulness could be important to these individuals, as they could underestimate their beauty and their outstanding personality.

I’ve also seen that most traumatic events happen in the childhood, youth or early adulthood. But that’s just my observation.

Feelings of being deeply misunderstood rise while you are young and this feeling might follow you for years. Constantly searching for someone to understand your complex mind and depth of emotions. These people could benefit from searching for a valve to turn pain, bad experiences and any form of built up emotion into art. Be it writing, drawing, making music…

A reoccurring theme for Plutonians is sexuality. There may be blockages in regards of the own sexuality or experiencing it, but once they overcome this, they literally start to bloom in that area. This could turn into being hungry for power in general (or simply being turned on by overpowering the partner) or in being lascivious. They can be pretty much extreme and freaky in bed, actually. Being intimate never gets boring with them.

I know, this is what you read everywhere, but plutonic people are deeply magnetic and will catch your eye with their intense aura. Even if they are not seen as traditionally beautiful, these natives exude attractiveness and charisma. You just can’t ignore them and they will even stand out in a crowd. BUT! A lot of them don’t have the sex appeal like (for example) Megan Fox has. A lot of them have such an innocence to their appearance, but if you take a closer look you’ll see that they’re like fallen angels.

From my experience, plutonic people will have a deep connection to spirituality or the occult and a profound interest in psychology (for good and bad). They usually get into these things after really hard times in their life. They will attract jealousy and hate like flies, unfortunately and this could take a toll in their self esteem. Even strangers tend to be very competitive and mean to them in some way, because most people simply feel challenged by their presence.

Dear plutonic people,

you ALL are wonderful and you deserve so much more. I feel for every single one of you and I hope you will find true happiness and self acceptance. You’ve been through so much and you deserve the world for all that. I’m sending you all the love you might need right now or later! 🩶

[melk-maid]

warnings: everyone is aged up 21+, afab/gn reader, dead dove do not eat, lemurian rafayel (merman rafayel), yandere!rafayel, artist!reader, magical lemurian abilities, non con, double cocks, possessiveness, threats and attempts at drowning, rafayel is a weird freak!!!! ~ 6.6k synopsis: your mom told you tales as a child about wishes in a bottle that a sea god could make true. rafayel falls in love with you after watching you draw by the shore and intends on making all your dreams a reality.

note: this is a commission for my beloved @rafayelism!!!!! thank you SO MUCH for giving me the opportunity to write our little fishie!!! i had so so so much fun writing this giving me an open wc is very dangerous lmao but i love this fic sm my commissions are still open, mind the tags and enjoy~♡ dividers by @/cursed-carmine minors & ageless blogs dni - you will be blocked

It's so peaceful on the coast. Fingers coated in black charcoal swipe across the page with practised ease, there's no hesitation with each move; only instinct. You draw what you see by the ocean, how it makes you feel. There's no rhyme or reason to any of the drawings that decorate the pages, nor should there be. It's whatever you're feeling as you stare off into the horizon. You take in the sea shore with all your senses.

Seagulls fly overhead and cry out to their companions as the waves periodically crash into one another, lazily enveloping itself, barely lapping at the mound of rocks you sit atop. The smell of the water has become nostalgic since you started coming to the beach for inspiration. City life is great, but you need something new, you crave the feeling of freedom and peace.

When your page was full, you turned to the next. Drawing that which you wished for, something you would ask the God's if they were to listen, a life you desire if you could start over again. It's easy to lose yourself in the page, to darken and smudge and blend. No thoughts, no second guessing.

You realised the image was rather sad when you came to. It was created from loneliness. Humans need to be loved and desired. You really did reach into the depths of your heart to pull this out. The page is dark and brooding, it shows you a part of yourself you're not sure if you're ever willing to face. You begin to tear the page out of your sketchbook, along with the other drawings from today.

Your mom used to tell you about an old wives tale when you were a child; put your wishes on a piece of paper, stick it in a glass bottle and toss it into the sea. If you're lucky, the Sea God will find it and make all your wishes come true.

It's silly, you think, that a God would listen to a mortal's wishes. Nothing but a tall tale that's been passed down for centuries. You smile thinking about it, rolling up the papers from your sketchbook and slipping them neatly inside of an empty, glass bottle.

You hesitate — are you really going to do this?

What if it wasn't just a tale?

Before you change your mind, you seal the glass with a cork and stand on the rocks, reeling your arm back and tossing it hard into the ocean, throwing as far as you could to miss the rocks. Thankfully, it hits the water with an audible plop, but something immediately shimmers along the surface nearby.

It wasn't just the water under the sun, it was different, a distinct shine. Colours that aren't synonymous with the ocean, a purple hue that gleamed beneath the surface. You stand at the rocks watching the bottle float along the water's surface, bobbing up and down with the tide, waiting—hoping to see it again. It never reappears. Your bottle of wishes drifts further into the ocean.

Rather than dwelling on it, you mentally shrug it off and collect your conté and sketchbook to return home.

All the while, Rafayel watches you from the water with keen interest.

After narrowly avoiding the attempted assault with a glass bottle, his heart races as you lock eyes with him through the water. He didn't think he was close enough to the surface for you to see, especially not when he himself struggles to see you standing atop the rocks, not without ripples of the water and murky depths obstructing his view. Despite the hindrance, Rafayel could see how beautiful you were. Daring to surface just for a moment while you were lost in your book, he could see clearly how special you were, imprinting the sight into his mind before dipping back under.

For a moment, he wonders if you're looking at him, that you'd noticed him lingering by the shore. Your eyes are locked onto him but at the same time, they're really not. Unfocused and unsure, you furrow your brows and Rafayel lets out a short huff when you begin to collect your possessions.

It's good that you didn't see him…at the same time, he's a little disappointed you didn't come investigate. Crossing his arms over his torso, he pretends not to watch you leave, waiting for the moment you were out of sight to grab the bottle you threw at him.

There's paper inside the glass. Rafayel inspects the bottle under the water, twisting and turning it until eventually, it slips out of his grasp and floats back to the surface. It's been so long since he last saw a message in a bottle — not since he was a young Lumerian. He'd learnt his lesson that time, along with his guardians scolding; never open a message under the surface or else you'll lose the contents, and — most importantly — don't meddle with human affairs.

Rules are meant to be broken. Which is why Rafayel often lingers near the shore to watch people. This time, he finds himself strangely intrigued by you, especially in comparison to the other humans he's seen.

None have yet to see him without his permission, and it gave him the confidence to keep watching. Humans are strange and interesting, though there are some similarities to Lumerians that he finds comforting. Rafayel learnt their language, picked up on patterns, and knows a lot more about humans than others of his kind.

So it shouldn't come as too much of a surprise when he found himself infatuated with a human, especially one who broke the carefully curated mould that he'd set. No one ever approaches these rocks — in fact, they avoid this side of the shore the most. Lacking soft, dry sand, he realised quickly that humans steer clear of rocks and gravel that had washed up on the shore. You, however, purposely made your way over to them, sitting on the natural collection to scribble in a book for hours at a time.

All of it made him that much more curious to see what was in the bottle.

Rafayel guides the message into an alcove nearby, a quiet and secluded area that allows him to surface while remaining hidden. Pulling himself out from the water and laying his chest across a rock, his fish tail remains below the surface.

It takes a little strength to pull the cork out, but it proved to be a fruitless effort when the paper inside wouldn't slip out, nor could his webbed fingers fit to reach them. It's no problem — he's worked with glass before. A controlled burst of flames expelled from his index finger, directed at the neck of the bottle and with one firm snap the glass broke into two pieces.

He unfurls the paper, careful not to destroy your musings with his moist fingertips. The first page is hard to decipher; a lot of grey shades without much definition. Rafayel stares and stares, until it finally clicks in his head that he's holding it wrong. Turning the paper horizontally reveals a picture of the ocean spread across the horizon, a collection of rocks that you were sitting on fill the bottom of the page. It's pretty — he's always wanted to see what the ocean looked like on land.

The next page is covered in various drawings. Some are bigger than others and there doesn't seem to be a link between them. There are shells that you likely saw washed up on the shore, an eye and what he can only assume is a small, simplified fish in the corner of the page. Each piece varied in detail and interest, scribbles of inspiration that were quite endearing.

On the third and final page, the warmth that swirled within Rafayel's chest disappeared in an instant. Cold waves wash over him. This was another he couldn't recognise, though he understood how it made him feel. The page was covered in black, coating his thumbs as he held the drawing with delicate fingers. He furrows his brows, eyes glazing over the piece, analysing what he was seeing, what it could mean.

Why does it make him sad?

Rafayel's lip slowly begins to protrude and the inner corners of his brows deepens into the centre of his face. There's a boulder in his chest that hurts, almost suffocating him but he already knows, if he were to duck back under the water he would suffer with the same feeling. Something about the drawing makes him…melancholy.

The corners are covered in black, the centre clear with a small figure by itself. There's hardly any smudges or grey like the other pieces. It's intended to be dark. It's supposed to make him feel sad, isolated, and lonely.

Such a beautiful being shouldn't be sad. He wonders if it's because you're on land; only ever experiencing the surface once on his birthday, it was terribly boring and draining — he couldn't wait to return to the water, his home. Rafayel believes you suffer the same, that you would be much happier by his side, living in the pleasant waters with him. Lumeria has the accommodations to host you, he can help guide you there and ensure your safety and happiness.

His heart begins to swell at the thought. All those feelings of misery looking at your drawing suddenly disappear, washed away with the tide of his newfound love. He doesn't even know anything about you — not even your name — but that doesn't matter. Those are little facts he can learn about you once you're together, entangled in an adoring weave of loyalty, you'll never have to feel lonely again.

Rafayel watches the shore for your return. A couple of days was all it took to see you awkwardly stepping over the small, annoying stones that littered the path towards bigger rocks. It was instinctual the way he lightly gasped in excitement, swimming away as fast as he could towards the alcove that housed your offerings.

You had found peace and comfort sitting at the rocks sketching the other day, so you returned with the intention of finding it again. It was the closest you'd been to feeling happy in comparison to everywhere else in your life; there's always something going on, noise and chaos and technology. All you want is to get away just for a little while, to find yourself without the influence of the city around you.

Already, as you climb the rocks, you can't help but smile. It's exciting to see the beauty in nature, to be one with it. No technology, no people. Just…You, the bright blue sky, the lapping waves and your thoughts.

Except you hear singing just before you settle down on the rocks. It's distant but you recognise that it's not from the city. The sound isn't coming from the beach, either. Rocks are all you can see, there must be a way around if someone is singing. Ever curious, you press on, following the sweet harmony.

As you draw closer to the source, you begin to feel strange. As though you weren't in control of your own body, instead, watching yourself from an outside perspective. No control of where you move or when you catch yourself on the slipping rocks. The waves crash below, a ferocious roar that makes you realise just how dangerous of a fall it would've been. Despite the lump in your throat and painful sting of your scraped knee, you continue forward.

The angelic sounds pull you into an alcove, dark and slimy, the singing is undoubtedly coming from within. When you almost slip is when you finally pull out your phone and use the flashlight setting to illuminate your path. It stinks something awful and rotted, likely from many years of natural erosion. Surprisingly, it doesn't deter you one bit, though you are forced to breathe through your mouth to cope.

It's terrifying even with your small light. Only now are you wondering if this was a bad idea, though as soon as those thoughts begin to form, something within you works hard to tear them down. Your legs move by themselves, following the invisible line of music notes that bounce off of the walls of the cave. Finally inside the belly of the alcove, you find the source of the singing.

And he takes your breath away.

A man floats in the water — no, not just a man, he's something more. His eyes are bright despite the deep, brooding purple that stares up at you. Patches of fish scales adorn his neck, iridescently shifting beneath your flashlight, shimmers of purple and pink and blue blend together beautifully. Fins travel down the back of his neck along his spine, trim and elegant, they too shift colour under your light. Despite a human's smile, his teeth are sharp, a sight that has you reeling backward.

"Finally, you're here cutie." The creature said. "But can you stop pointing that thing at me? It's making it hard to see."

Scaly hands reach out from below the water, covered in patches of scales but this time, they were royal blue in colour. You could just make out the light webbing between his fingers, another sign that he is definitely not a human.

"Shit, sorry," You stutter and lower your phone, "I can't see in here."

"No problem, I can help with that."

There's a snap of fingers, sharp against the walls before puffs of fire erupted throughout. Torches are lit throughout the cave, illuminating the area in a dim, orange glow. Now you can see everything.

"Better?" He asks, wearing a proud smirk while he watches you look around in awe. "I'm Rafayel, I've seen you around here a few times. Why?"

You blink at Rafayel. It feels like your mind is in a haze, making it hard to process what he's saying — at least, not fast enough for him. The creature swims towards the edge of the water where you stand,

"Are you going to answer me?" He hums before reaching out to rest his forearms against the ledge. "It might not look like it, but I'm pretty busy, you know? You should feel lucky I'm letting you see and speak to me." Rafayel rests his cheek on his arm, tapping a rock with his index finger to playfully spook a tiny, minuscule crab. "Plus, I really don't like being ignored…"

Words are lost in your throat as you stare down at the creature before you. You know of wanderers and other dangerous creatures but never have you encountered one before, though you aren't confident Rafayel is a wanderer of any kind. His ability to light the cave indicates an evol, but the inhuman scales that decorate pale skin tell you something more.

He stares up at you from the edge, curious but visibly growing impatient by your silence. "I…I heard something." You start and dare to bend your knees towards your chest, trying to be as close to eye level with Rafayel as you can. "I heard singing. It was beautiful."

At the compliment, Rafayel's eyes light up and a wide smile forms on his face. He pushes himself away, floating back in the water with ease. "You liked my singing?" A nod is all you offer in response, still leaning against bent knees. Rafayel hums, fingers dancing along the surface of the water, watching the ripples he creates. "I don't offer my vocal performances for free."

"Oh, uh, I can give you money?"

Rafayel snorts and while it is playful, there's a bite to it. You pout as he says, "Fishies like me don't need your money."

The way he tilts his head soothes the sting of his rejection, purple hair dry despite the water, soft bangs fall across his forehead and soften his features. You swallow and stand, crossing and uncrossing your arms out of nervousness under his gaze.

"I don't know what else I can give you."

He pretends to think about his answer, though in actuality, he'd made his decision a couple of days ago when he last saw you. Instead of being straightforward with his desires, Rafayel decides to ease you into his presence first. It can't hurt to try and better his odds at you agreeing to be his.

"You come here to draw, don't you? Do you have your book with you?" Even though he'd mentioned seeing you on the shore before, his mention of your sketchbook still catches you by surprise. "You can draw me. I'll consider it payment."

The suggestion leaves you speechless, something that Rafayel has come to loathe. Before he can groan and ask for more of you, you make sure to nod and pull your bag off of your back. You did intend to come and sketch anyway, such an opportunity to draw a beautiful creature feels unreal.

No one's going to believe it.

Rafayel finds patience watching you find somewhere to sit and open your book. You grimace as you sit on the slimy, wet rocks, quickly growing accustomed to the feeling. For comfort and making the most of being so close to the water, you take off your shoes to let your feet sink into the water, sighing through your nose at the pleasant sensation.

Royal eyes watch your every move. He'd sunk himself down into the water while waiting, submerging himself up to his nose and blowing little bubbles of air onto the surface. With your medium and sketchbook at the ready, you finally look at Rafayel. Oh, how he missed your attention.

It was his idea for you to draw him, but Rafayel isn't a very good model as you work. He dips into the water and moves position regularly, turning his head every which way and seemingly making sure you can't accurately portray him in your book. While life studies isn't your specialty, you've had your fair share of shifty muses, but never one like this.

When you finally fall into a pattern and fill in the blank spaces of the pose you'd chosen for him, Rafayel finds himself even more bored than before. Sure he enjoyed watching you before, but he hadn't experienced the pleasure of you, the joys that your attention on him brings. The way you look at him with gleaming eyes and a little fear fuels his desires. You'll soften up to him eventually. Having your eyes on him was enough, to have you focused on him alone, rather than sharing your attention with a book.

He will have to teach you how to sufficiently spread out your attention while you're his. Of course he doesn't expect you to dote on him at all times — only when he's feeling needy. Now, is one of those times you'll come to learn of.

All your senses had turned off as you sketch, all but your sight and touch. Glancing back and forth between the creature before you and your book, you sketch delicate lines with grey conté, ensuring the soft lines of Rafayel's features are accurate. He's delicate in a way that's so beautiful and alluring, feminine mixed with a hint of masculine that makes him almost ethereal. With his hair sufficiently damp and a pout on his lips, Rafayel looks even more angelic.

Sadly, you're dragged out of the zone as water splashes your way, narrowly hitting your drawing. You pull the book to your chest and look down at Rafayel in the water, offended and barely catching a glimpse of a large, fish-like appendage that disappears beneath the water's darkness. The creature before you laughs.

"Are you finished yet? I'm getting bored of waiting."

You look down at the drawing, grateful that none of the water Rafayel had splashed at you ruined your work. "No, I'm not that fast."

To appease his boredom, you turn the book around to show him your work, despite the anxiety that thumps in your veins. His eyes widen, swimming closer to get a better look. You watch them twitch as he takes in all the details.

"I want to get your…" you gesture to his neck where iridescent scales glisten against the torches. "…Uh, scales, right; they're very pretty."

Eyes that were once glued to the paper dart onto your face, entirely unreadable. Big, dark, they hardly sparkle. You can't look at him for too long, worried you'd made a mistake and insulted him by accident.

It was quite the opposite, actually.

Complimenting a Lumerian's scales is considered to be the utmost compliment. It doesn't really matter whether or not you know this and your comment was purposeful, because Rafayel's heart was already beating painfully in his chest. His cheeks grow hot despite the cool waters regulating his temperature, a sensation he can't recall ever experiencing before. It doesn't hurt, though it definitely doesn't feel right — what are you doing to him?

Rafayel finally looks away when the tips of his ears begin to heat up the same as his face, noticing the fresh and gross scrape on your knee. "What happened?"

"Oh, that, I slipped on some rocks when I was coming here." You respond after following his eyeline.

It's hard not to jump when his hand touches your bare leg. Skin on skin, although his isn't like yours. Slimy and cold, much like the rocks you sit on, with a sense of heat that gradually increases the longer he holds onto you. His grip is gentle and cautious, as though he isn't sure what to make of you either.

"Can I help?"

You blink. There's no response and Rafayel takes the opportunity anyway. His fingers tighten around your calf, your foot brushing against his chest under the water as he pulls himself closer. Rafayel's lips are surprisingly soft on your knee. Planted directly on the open wound, you watch him kiss your knee, feeling like a child again; when your mom would kiss your bumps and scrapes to make them better, except this time, your wounds were actually healed.

Rafayel looks up at you, sweet and innocent, still holding onto you as you witness your knee scrape disappear instantly. A swipe of your hand confirms it wasn't an illusion but real — your knee was healed with a kiss.

"Join me."

"What?" You sputter. There wasn't a cat holding your tongue hostage this time.

His grip on your leg tightens, dull nails beginning to dig into your flesh painfully. "Be mine. Live with me in Lemuria. You'll never be lonely again, I promise — not if I can help it."

You hardly stutter out a response, uncomfortable with such a suggestion with a wash of bad energy that swallows you whole. Almost throwing the sketchbook off of your lap, you started to move with the intention of leaving. This was a bad idea and you should've known.

Before you can even think of getting very far, you're dragged along the rock by your leg, down into the depths of the water. Your head hit the stone hard on your way, enough to knock you out and stop you from trying to wiggle out of the Lemurian's grasp.

It's not long after do you regain consciousness, floating in the dark abyss of the ocean, Rafayel's hands around your waist to keep you close with his lips on yours. Instinctively, you panic and struggle in his grasp, pushing and opening your mouth to scream, only to receive lungfuls of saltwater. Your head throbs, bones aching as you thrash. Rafayel had let you go quite easily, though his hands linger near you to ensure you don't go far.

You're choking. Everything is a haze. Rafayel is the only thing you can see in the vast landscape, a beacon of safety that you shouldn't trust. He dragged you down here, he is the danger you face. It's hard to deny the lack of air in your lungs, though. Swimming is impossible but your legs kick haphazardly, hands gripping your throat as though the squeeze would help you breathe.

Rafayel leans into you, grabbing each side of your face and planting his lips on yours. He's a madman, a disgusting beast whose trap you'd fallen into. You can't believe you fell for his spell. Lips part and so do yours, eagerly swallowing the air that's pumped into you. One of his hands had moved to your ribs — though you hardly noticed — and suddenly, your lungs didn't feel so heavy with saltwater.

When you part, he remains close, holding onto you with hearts in his eyes. Your feet brush against something scaly and strange; expecting another pair of legs considering his human torso, you shouldn't be surprised at the sight of a large fish tail. Tiny bubbles form from his lips and yours, excess oxygen floating up to the surface. Those big, beautiful, royal eyes look down at your lips and then turn away, shy and lovestruck.

You take the second chance and push Rafayel away, intending to swim to the surface and figure out how to survive. Fingers brush your own as he reaches out for you but you pull back quickly, as though burnt by flames. You're not a swimmer by any means, so it doesn't come as a shock when you quickly find yourself lost. Rafayel hadn't moved since you pushed him away to make a break for it, close enough that he could almost reach out to you. He lingers, watching you try to escape, purple iridescent tail bent as though he were lounging on a sofa. Crossing his arms, Rafayel watches and waits for you to tire yourself out.

Which way is up and which is down? You try to swim towards the surface but all you see is darkness, a group of small fish passing by cause a stir in you, flinching in panic. Your lungs burn despite the oxygen you hold.

You're losing your cool again. Without realising it, you were releasing the air in your lungs, small bubbles quickly grow in size as you panic and cry out. Rafayel was on you almost instantly, swimming easily in the water to wrap his arms around you from behind.

"Relax." He purrs in your ear, the sound clear as day compared to your struggling gargles. "You're going to drown if you keep swimming away."

The rational part of your mind fails to see this as a negative. Trapped underwater with a Lemurian, one who deceived you, death would be a mercy. On the other hand, your brain is willing to survive at any cost.

He kisses you again, expelling what was left in your lungs for something fresh.

Firm hands hold you at your waist, his tail moving the water behind you as he floats. Curled around you like a cat's tail; you have a feeling he wouldn't ever be a fan of such land creatures.

"I can take you to Lemura, but you have to stay with me."

Rafayel's hands find their way under your shirt at your waist, pressing his thumbs into the plump flesh of your tummy. Eyes locked onto you as though you were the only other entity to exist down here. Eyebrows upturned ever so slightly, wet eyes almost pleading for your cooperation. He looks down at your lips again, pulling you in to meet him for another kiss.

It was different this time.

When he kissed you before, it was with the intention of giving you air to survive. Now, it's not so direct. You can breathe when you're connected like this, but his tongue makes it difficult. Much like the rest of Rafayel, it's familiar yet different enough. He's reaching parts of your mouth that no one has ever explored before, wrapping his tongue around your own and moaning as he pulls your body close. Despite being able to breathe underwater, he pulls back breathless and flush.

"You're so perfect." Rafayel whispers, yearning in his voice as he leans in for another kiss. Much shorter this time, your grimace goes ignored. "I want to savour this moment. To savour you being mine."

Your stomach churns, fingers itching to break free; it's no use, you need him to survive.

Even under water, Rafayel's hair still looks so soft and delicate, scales almost glowing in the dark abyss that surrounds you both. You can't help but sputter when his tail brushes between your legs, forcing them open with his size. A flurry of bubbles create a barrier between you, this time Rafayel is reluctant to let you out of his grasp. His arms are tight around your waist, wrapping around you to keep you flush, but you manage to draw your leg between your bodies and kick him away.

Of course, he doesn't go very far and your body fails you when you try to swim away.

Tired. You had worn yourself out with the panic and thoughtless swimming. It hurts to move your arms despite the adrenaline that courses through you. Your lungs are on fire, empty of air again and you almost fill them with water once again. Maybe drowning would be the best option, though Rafayel doesn't give you a choice.

His arms wrap around you again, pulling you in a sharp motion, your back hitting his chest like a wall. You watch as his fail flits between your legs, large and imposing, it sparkles and shines like a beautiful painting right before your eyes. In different circumstances, you'd be amazed by such a (literally) breathtaking sight.

"I thought you would've figured it out by now; there's no need to fight me. Just embrace your new life." Your chest aches, lurching with fear. You can't help but hold onto Rafayel's arm around your waist, clinging onto him as you grow dizzy and weak. "I have to admit, your fighting spirit does excite me…"

Rafayel moves you ever so slightly in his arms, relaxing his grip and giving you an opening to escape, but you don't bother taking it. Not when you can hardly move without restriction. You feel his scales along your back, cold, he pushes himself into you, moving what you imagine would be his hips if he had any. Something warm and slimy crawls along your lower back, up beneath your shirt and you grip Rafayel's arm with your nails.

"Don't worry~" He coo's in your ear, pulling you by the chin to look at him over your shoulder. A kiss of oxygen and his tongue lapping over yours, his tail rutting into you as he widens your legs like he had once before. "You'll love me soon enough. I can win over your affections."

That wasn't what you were worried about, but you held your breath and your tongue.

His breath lingers in your ear, as though he were breathing on land. Inhaling with a shiver, whatever warm appendage rolls over your back is beginning to leak, a hot substance that coagulates in the water. You can take a wild guess at what's about to happen, especially when his hand reached down between your legs.

You thrash and fight again. A second wind of energy tears through you, fueled by the disgust over what Rafayel is about to try and do. It's no use though, because his grip on you is tighter than before — he means it this time. Bubbles spill from your nose and lips as you murmur, wiggling carelessly against his strong hold, locked in his arms and tail. He coo's at you again, shushing you from wasting more of your air; he wouldn't ever be upset about kissing you, however.

Warm fingers pull your underwear to the side, allowing for his cock to enter you. It's nothing you've ever experienced before and it shocks you into silence. Smooth as silk there's hardly a ridge or lump as he slides right in, although, your eyes sting with tears that never form as he stretches your walls with a burning pain. It's difficult not to gasp and swallow mouthfuls of water, your mind racing with fear when something else curls against the shape of you, burrowing amongst your folds and brushing against your clit. It wasn't his hand — it felt all too similar to his cock against your back. Undeniably full of him, you realise he had more than the one appendage to use on you.

You whimper when he starts moving, a sound captured within shiny bubbles that float away quickly. Rafayel's grasp is tight on you, secure, loving. It's just a shame you feel anything but love as you're held captive and fucked against your will. You haven't been held like this in so long that you almost wish you could accept the situation, but your perspective was much clearer than the fantasy he wants you to fall into.

Rafayel moans in your ear as he thrusts in and out of you, nose brushing against your neck, lips leaving featherlight kisses along your shoulder. You claw at his arm to no avail; there's no more energy to use. No chance to escape. Now, the battle is with your mind to remind you how dire your situation actually is. His noises shoot straight to your clit, a pleasure that makes you nauseous to think about enjoying. You don't belong here. You were tricked and forced into this, there's no way your body can be gaining pleasure from this.

But fuck, the sensation of his other cock sliding back and forth between your pussy lips and nudging your sensitive clit is undeniably hot. It's hard to close your legs around his tail and instead, you bend your knees around him and tighten your grasp around his cocks. Rafayel whines breathless, his hips still as he shudders at your squeeze. Instinctually, you lean back into him, almost melting into his touch.

"I can't let you go." He huffs. Breathing laboured with each thrust inside of you, his arms tighten around your waist, one hand moving to cup your breast. Squeezing and massaging, you follow and grab his wrist to pull him off, but his cock hits you in a spot that has your eyes rolling. "I can't let this be a dream or a memory. I'll die without you. I need you to stay."

He begs and pleads, as though you're about to slip from his grasp. All of it tugs on your heartstrings — and makes you cum around him. You're dizzy and faint at the combination of burning lungs and sparks of pleasure. Rafayel feels you convulse around him, solidifying his need for you; confirming, you want him just as much. When he pulls out, you feel weightless and empty. The darkness surrounding you both only seems to grow as it consumes Rafayel, allowing yourself to float as he turns you around himself. You can hardly feel his hands grabbing yours, fingers threading with his — at least, as much as possible with his inhuman webbing. Rafayel kisses you, parting your lips and you greedily eat up all the air he offers.

Your chest is heavy with guilt and regret. Rafayel was reeling with delight as your arms wrap around his neck, threading through his short locks, smiling against your lips when you gasp into him as his cock slips inside. Finally, you have come to accept your fate.

To accept Rafayel.

It's shameful the way you grasp onto him, finally meeting his own tongue with hunger. You'd lost yourself in the orgasm that was forced upon you. Nothing felt real anymore — this could be a dream as long as you keep your eyes closed. A small part of your mind is persistent in reminding you this is dangerous, yet you continue to suck all the air from Rafayel's lungs.

You need to break away. He wants you to submit yourself to him. He said it himself; you should be his.

With your mouths connected and losing oxygen in your lungs no longer a fear, you allow a few moans of pleasure to slip your occupied tongue. Rafayel thrusts inside of you harder, his hands gripping you tightly, pulling you impossibly closer. Hearing— feeling you let yourself go fuels him further, reaffirms just why he chose you to be his lover for all eternity.

He used his lower cock to fuck you in this position; straddling his tail, facing one another so you don't have to worry about air. Your lips are addictive, the sweet taste of your tongue has him feeling like he's floating on the surface of the water. When you rock your hips to match his pace, Rafayel has to break away from your lips to chase his release.

Nails dig into your flesh painfully and you're quick to be pulled out of the dream-like fantasy you'd found yourself in. His cocks feel amazing brushing against your clit and reaching parts of your insides you didn't know existed, but seeing the surface above reminds you that you don't belong here.

"I need you. I want you. I can't… can't stand…" Rafayel babbles between kisses peppered along your cheek and neck, entirely unaware of your desperate fixation on the light above. "F-fu…Please, don't be a dream."

You bare your teeth as his fingers press into you, squeezing you in his arms until it feels like your bones are going to break. Whimpering and whining, he thrusts erratically while burying his head into your neck; he's close but you can't think about that when he's tilting you both backwards. The only reason you realise you're moving is because the surface has fallen behind you, entirely obstructed from view and you're once again met with never ending darkness.

When Rafayel cums, he bites the crook of your neck — hard.

Instinctually, you cry out in a flurry of bubbles, pulling on his hair until he draws back. You hardly acknowledge the strange cum inside of you or the way it floats thick in the water, like a string following you behind as you try again to swim away. Now that you know which direction the surface is, you are determined to get there.

Rafayel, love drunk and hazy, lets you go without a fight, maintaining his erections after you pull his hair so hard. You're so beautiful and feisty, he could go on and on.

Waves lap over each other, highlighted by the sun against the surface. Like a beam of light, you try desperately to reach out, to move in and save yourself. It dims, though, and fast. Your body is giving out, the sun darkening as your lungs are fit to burst once again. Tired, everything about you is tired. You can feel yourself floating like before, death is coming again and just when you're sure you don't want to be saved this time, you open your mouth to speak.

"Rafayel…"

It's distorted to your own ears, the light of the surface has gone and your mind is beginning to drift. The throb of your body melts away, as though you were laid on a bed of clouds. Peace.

"Promise me," Rafayel calls to you but you don't feel his presence. "Promise me you will stay. I won't let you drown if you devote yourself to me, and I to you. I'll save you, if you'd have me."

There's a brush of something on your lips, faint and distant. You can't help but lean into it. You will tell yourself it was instinctual, that you didn't want Rafayel. All those times you tried to swim away, fought in his arms, tried to drown. And yet, when he gave you what you wanted, you didn't reject his help.

"Neither of us will be lonely again." He swears after kissing the air back into your lungs. 

[yummyrevivalfluid]

How To Rizz Up A Scientist

Synopsis: What better way to rizz up a scientist than using his science against him?

Chapter 1: Newton's Law of Universal Gravitation

Word Count: 1888

Warnings: Flirting, Sexual jokes, Eventual smut (next chapter)

Everyone who knew Senku knew that he prioritized science. Very few knew about his moments of vulnerability when he expressed his genuine care for others in his own fashion, often expressing himself through his actions rather than words.

Senku would soon discover that only one person would know a different side to him that even he didn’t know existed.

Science was at the top of his priorities, and dating was at the bottom. He didn’t care for relationships, and anything that would come with them. He avoided books with any hints of romance, preferring books that would further increase the success of his rocket.

Senku didn’t care for displays of affection, and his face showed signs of annoyance whenever someone embraced him. To him, it felt unnecessary. As much as he cared for Taiju and Yuzuriha, he didn’t need them smothering him in affection.

Physical intimacy? Senku didn’t care about it. Never gave it too much thought. His mind never wandered to the idea of pleasure, using his hands other than for his studies. If Sir Isaac Newton lived a celibate life, Senku could too.

That was until you came along.

…

You were a transfer student, but you were quick to adjust to your new environment. You figured out the school’s hierarchy, merging into the clique as if you were one of them.

You didn’t mind your new friends, but quickly grew bored with them. It was clear to you what they prioritized, and you needed more. You liked having balance. You needed something to stimulate your mind. You needed someone.

“-and then with a nuclear magnetic resonance test, we can determine the depth of the pores and other physical properties, all based on the carbon chain distribution…”

You stop in your tracks. Snapping your head around to see whose words those belong to. Words that vaguely sounded familiar to you, something that sounds like organic chemistry.

What sane person talks about organic chemistry as if it were a casual topic?

He sounded confident in what he said. He knew his stuff, that was for sure. This intrigued you.

You tug the sleeve of the girl in front of you and pull her close quickly, turning her attention to the boy who walked past you. “Who is he?”

“Huh?” She looks in your direction, trying to pinpoint the boy who caught your attention. “Senku?” she asks, unsure.

“Senku,” you test the sound of his name, watching as he walks further down the hall, unaware that he has caught your attention. Unaware of your scheming nature. “Tell me everything you know about Senku.”

…

Senku glared at the door, waiting for the person he blamed for his dilemma. Classes were over, and he was supposed to be with the science club, experimenting with a brand-new NMR that the school funded. The same NMR that would’ve been revoked and all club funding ceased if he hadn’t accepted being a tutor.

Taking a bullet for my beloved science

He’s glaring at the door and the clock right above it. Whoever pulled some strings to have Senku as their tutor didn’t have any regard for his time. He impatiently tapped the pencil against the desk as another minute passed. His patience was running thin.

He was itching to run to the science club, get his hands on the NMR, create gasoline with the stone swallow he had found, and understand its physical properties.

Another minute passed, and he'd had enough. He got up from his seat and made his way to the door. He swung it open only to be met with an unfamiliar face. He doesn’t waste a second. He’s quick to tell you what is on his mind.

“You’re late.” His voice doesn’t hold back his irritation. What you’ve heard about him appears to be true, not that you mind. He sounds just like your type.

“Ah, sorry!” you quickly apologize, your movements awkward as you enter the room. “I’m still having trouble finding some of the classrooms.”

“Transfer student?” he asks. He sits at the desk before you, waiting for you as you lay out your books and stationery. He eyes the bulky books you set, physics and chemistry.

“Yup.”

You organize your study materials on the desk, pulling out your favorite pens and highlighters. Senku watches you, unsure what to think of you, his expression calculating.

“What strings did you pull to get me as your tutor?” Senku asks, his arms crossed. “The school has other tutors available. So why me?”

“I asked for the best, which I guess means you.” You open your notebook to a blank page, nudging the physics books towards him, “I paid top dollar for you, so let’s get right into it, shall we?”

“Who knows, if I like you so much, maybe I can get more funding for your little club.” You say casually, leaning slightly forward and flashing him a smug smile.

Rich people

…

“Up next, Newton’s Law of Universal Gravitation.” Senku circles the formula in your textbook and explains its meaning, “As the radius between two masses increases, the force of attraction between them decreases.”

You write down the equation and the general definition, but look at your notebook, puzzled. Senku notices and leans beside you, trying to figure out where you’re confused.

“What part do you not understand?” he asks. Your notes look fine- nothing seems out of place.

“So, if two masses were to get closer, the force of attraction between them increases?” He doesn’t notice the lack of space between you until you press against him, tilting your head to look up at him with a sly smile, “So what’s the force of attraction that we’re producing?”

It takes a second for your words to sink in, and when they do, he’s laughing. He’s pulling away from you, covering his mouth, hiding his smile, and attempting to calm himself down.

“Did you just use Newton’s Law to flirt with me?” Senku asks, amused at your attempt.

You pout at him, clearly it didn’t work the way you wanted, but it’s fine. You liked a slow burn anyway. “Can’t blame a girl for trying.” You shrug your shoulders as you bat your eyes at him.

“Not interested.” He shoots you down, but you don’t back down.

“In Newton’s wise words,” you pull him closer by his tie. “If gravity pulled an apple, I can pull you, " you say with seriousness, despite your joking words.

Senku nudges the physics book towards you, “Show me where he says that.”

“You’re no fun.”

“If you want fun, go find another tutor.” His hands are on the desk, he’s hovering over you, attempting to make you feel small, but you don’t back down.

You copy his stance, placing your hands on the desk, as you move closer to him. You playfully glare at him, your eyes flicker between his eyes and lips, and he notices. You want him to notice.

“I don’t want another tutor, I want you.”

Why did he have the feeling that the school pimped him out for some quick cash?

…

It’s been a few days since he last saw you, and your attempts at flirting clouded his mind. It wasn’t his first time that someone flirted with him, and it wasn’t the first time someone tried to use his love for STEM in their favor.

However, it was the first time someone persisted. Even after being shot down, you push onwards, his words did little to keep you down.

Usually, he would be heading to the science club at this time, but with your meddling, he finds himself heading to the room reserved for your tutoring session. To his surprise, you are already waiting for him when he opens the door.

“What subject are we focusing on today?” Senku asks as he walks over to the desk, placing his stuff down.

“Chemistry, " you respond. Senku is suspicious about your intentions, so he takes the initiative and tries to beat you to the punch.

“Because there’s chemistry between the two of us?” he says nonchalantly, the smile tugging on his lips betrays him.

You stop writing in your notebook, and you look up at Senku, noticing the smile on his face. You let out a dry laugh as you shake your head in disappointment. “That was so lame. I expected better.”

“I might be a chemistry major, but I’d never Bohr you. Better?”

You make a face at his attempt at flirting, shaking your head no, and continue to write down some notes from the book. “That’s so gen-chem. I’m starting to wonder if you’re the best in the school.”

“I am.” He retorts, slightly insulted, that you think he’s not. You don’t say anything, which he feels is worse than you saying anything.

…

He tutors you every two days, and it’s more than enough time for him to look up some pick-up lines to impress your high standards.

It’s his third session with you, and he walks in prepared to knock your socks off. But the sight of you stops him- he doesn’t know why. Nothing is different. You patiently waited for him, but he couldn’t pull himself together to say the pick-up lines.

“If it’s okay with you, I want to focus on physics today. I’m having trouble with some of the formulas.”

“Which ones are you having trouble with?” Senku asks, sitting beside you rather than his usual seat in front. You flip through the book to the section you’re having trouble wrapping your mind around.

“Energy of conservation…uhhh…work-energy theorem when considering gravitational and elastic potential energy….and spring potential energy.”

You glance up from the book after marking the pages you wanted to review. You glance over to Senku, who has been writing down the formulas. “Did you have all those formulas memorized?” you asked, impressed.

“Do you still doubt me?” Senku seems offended. “I am the best money can buy.” He is still writing in the notebook, finishing the last equations, but he can feel you pressing onto his side, watching over his shoulder.

When he finishes, he hands you the notebook, and you begin scanning the pages, flipping back and forth. He notes your confused look as you hand him the notebook back.

“I think you’re missing one.” You reply to him, unsatisfied with his work. Senku snatches the notebook from you with force, quickly flipping through the pages and reviewing that he didn’t make a mistake in any of the equations.

“I’m not missing any.” He turns to look back at you, ready to banter with you, but your proximity to him leaves him vulnerable. The words get caught in his throat as you lean closer to him, caging him in. Your hand moves from the desk to rest on his hand, “I don’t see the formula to pull you.”

Fuck you were good.

“I know.”

��

He doesn’t remember the study session number when he finally matches your energy, but it reveals a side he didn’t know he had. Something he kept hidden deep inside.  

“I wish I were a Sn2 reaction….” his hands rest on your thighs, inching closer to the divot between your legs, his fingers digging into the fat of your thigh. “So, I could attack you from the backside.”

“I’d let you.”

---

A/n: This was supposed to be wholesome, sweet, and fluffy. Instead the spirit of a freak possessed near me near the end.

Any tips or feedback on writing dialogue?

[lidiasloca]

what do you think about azriel x reader that has daddy issues, like she does small things to try to make him proud and at first he thinks she’s just being cute but he realizes the depth and her need for praise and what’s going on and just reassures her. like he immediately knew why reader was so attached to him when they first met, and he just took on the role as her provider and protector🧎‍♀️i’m just literally projecting😀

reader with daddy issues in a relationship with az

azriel x reader

a/n: this is not exactly what you ask for, but my mind clang to this scene very fiercely. maybe not entirely daddy issues, but definitely issues ig. ps; i plan to write a headcanons blurb about this.

You and Azriel had been seeing each other for a while now. Though he was falling more and more in love with you with every passing day, and so were you, deep down, you felt like you were also growing attached to him in a very particular way.

You tried not to look too deeply into your heart, to avoid understanding the needs that only your partner seemed able to satisfy.

Things like the constant reassurance of his touch—whether it was holding hands, tracing patterns on your back lovingly, or caressing your thigh when you were at dinner. Anything that involved his familiar, scarred hands touching your skin—you needed it.

You guessed it was because what you truly needed was to know he was there with you. Azriel, the male who protected you as if it were his sole duty—you needed to be certain he was with you.

Because of this, you had grown accustomed to his words of love. You always had a voice in your head asking, “Why does he take such good care of you? Why would he choose to love and protect you?” And that voice could only be silenced by his sweet words.

“I love you, Y/N. I love you so much, I don’t even know who I’d be without you. I wouldn’t even want to be someone, I think,” he’d tell you as he hugged you tight.

“That was impressive, Y/N. How did I ever get so lucky that the best Valkyrie noticed me?” he’d ask.

“You are doing great, love.”

“You are so talented.”

“What did I even do to deserve you?”

“I’m so proud of you, Y/N.”

Those words he would say, you repeated in your mind like a mantra, rejoicing in the memory of him saying them.

But the joy of his love wasn’t enough to make your worry disappear. And so, you kept growing more concerned about him noticing your neediness.

And your biggest fear finally came true one night at dinner...

“Hello? Y/N?” you heard Azriel’s voice from the kitchen, where you were cooking a special dinner for him.

“Here!” You heard his tired footsteps follow your voice. “Hi, Azzie, how was the mission?” you asked when he leaned in to peck your cheek.

“Good, I guess,” he said weakly, but then he peeked from where he rested his head on your shoulder at what you were cooking. “That’s my favorite,” he mumbled, as if talking to himself.

You smiled sweetly and stopped stirring the soup to turn to your mate. “It is.”

He returned your smile, and there was a genuine sweetness in his eyes one could only find in an innocent child. “I love you,” he whispered.

You flushed, looking down at your feet at the sound of those words.

But he went on, pulling your chin up so you met his eyes. “You are too good to me. Too good for me.”

No, you were not.

“I love you,” he concluded.

I love you.

He didn’t. He didn’t. You just made soup. It probably wasn’t even good. He’d probably hate it. But he was too kind to tell you it was terrible. Just like he was too kind to tell you he didn’t actually love you. He didn’t. The soup was terrible.

“Y/N,” he whispered, wiping something wet from your cheek. “My love, what did I say? Why are you crying?”

Oh.

You were crying. “What?” you blurted. “Nothing. It’s probably the onions.”

He didn’t buy it one bit. And though to be loved was to be known, you only found fear in your mate knowing every bit of your soul just by looking at you the way he was watching you now.

“Y/N. You... Is this because of what I said? What I say?” You didn’t dare reply, so he continued. “I see your face change every time I tell you I love you or praise you. Or when I…” He sighed and brushed his hair back. “I don’t know.”

More tears were running down your cheeks. You hated seeing him so defeated and knowing it was your fault. “I’m sorry.”

He met your crying eyes in an instant. “Don’t. Love, don’t be sorry. I’m not mad, and you did nothing wrong. It’s just—I want to understand you.” He put his hand back on your cheek as if he knew how much you needed it there. You immediately leaned into the warm touch and saw how his eyes registered your reaction.

He knew. By the way he assessed you, you knew he had already figured you out. And to your surprise, the thought made you feel free.

So free that before you could think about it, your mouth was speaking of its own accord. “It’s the way I need to feel love. It’s rare,” you said, embarrassed. “You surely must have noticed it already. The way I need certain things from you…”

“Touch,” he said softly, and you weren’t sure if he was asking or simply reflecting on memories that proved what you were saying.

“Yes. Or having you around the house most of the time. Or… words of affirmation.” You were sure your face was wholly red, but, on the contrary, Azriel was all ears, no trace of judgment in his honest eyes. “I can't help but balk at your confessions, but—I… I love them deep down. Most of the time, I need to hear them. It’s... It’s terrible. I’m just very… needy.”

You wanted to run out of the room.

“I understand,” he said tenderly. “And this is nothing to be embarrassed about. Everybody has different ways they want to be loved.”

Oh.

“It’s a relief you actually like when I tell you those things. And that you love to be near me so much. Because I want to give you that, Y/N. I want to do everything you need to feel my love for you,” he explained gently.

You were left speechless.

“But know one thing—I love you no matter what, and despite everything. If you don’t have my hand to hold someday, I want you to still be certain I love you. If I don’t praise you someday, I want you to know you are brilliant. And if someday I don’t tell you how much I love you—Gods forbid that happens—know my feelings for you are just as strong.”

You were a sea of tears at that point. “Please promise me,” he asked.

“Promise you what?” you mumbled weakly.

“Promise me that, at every turn, you’ll know I love you. Promise me, Y/N.”

-Charcaters by Sarah J Maas

azriel masterlist

and you can also request any fic idea you have through my inbox so i can write it down :)) i much appreciate requests for azriel and other acotar characters

[moonsaver]

Thinking back to a post you once made about Aeon Sunday… Imagine being someone who knew Sunday in the past before his ascension, only to then receive the gaze of Aeon Sunday later in life

Oh my god. I love this. This is simultaneously creepy AND oddly romantic.

Theres a lot of possibilities for this – was reader sunday's crush? A suitor? Maybe just someone he shared small talk with and actually liked it more than usual? Ooohohoho

Im not sure if its yan or not, so i just kinda.. kept it variable(?)

This ones a bit longer because i desperatley need to wordvomti . Thanks.

Achieving an aeon's gaze is strange, your discipline, morals, ideals, lifestyle, something has to deeply resonate with their followed path. Let us assume Sunday is something similar to a "dreamlike" aeon [maybe it's mentioned in his boss form description, all i remember is the embryo of Philosophy ;;]

But again, it's not exactly stated how you'd be able to achieve an aeon's gaze; i still have no idea how acheron did it [IX is literally a black hole??], because i cant for the life of me read through those huge blocks of texts in the dialogue.

So lets say Sunday's able to pull his own strings and maybe even force you on that path. He's an aeon – who's stopping him?

Its the middle of the night, you're awake in bed, tossing and turning. It feels like something in your chest is pulling, a weird sensation you've been trying to put off. Your eyes are burning from the lack of sleep, but your mind seems restless. You try to calm yourself down and think about one thing and then another, one by one, until you remember Sunday. You wonder what was going through his mind, his in-between words in that one conversation, what he could have meant..

And like that, you fall asleep. Your bones sink into the bed, your weight relaxes into the pliant surface.

And then you awake. But somewhere else. It's not your bedroom – not the familiar ceiling, nor the corner of your room with piled clothes or a messy table. It's the cosmos, littered with stars. It's strange. You almost don't notice until you try to move – you're floating in space.

You turn, and he's there. That recognizable golden halo, stretching out into the dark expanse like the inside of a star plunging into the depths, golden eyes that peer down at you; with recognition, understanding, almost sympathy, and something you can't quite place. Your ribs ache and your lungs burn when you're reminded to breathe – this is the man you were thinking about before you slept.

You wake up, panting, shooting up in bed. The familiar space of your room greets you this time. The night is young outside your window ‐ not much time seems to have passed in that brilliant moment.

You were ready to chalk it up to a dream, like the ones where you feel like you're falling and wake up with a racing heart. But then you look down, and see a strange symbol on your body, something akin to an eye.

It seems you've earned his blessing to follow his path.

And even more? It seems like you're the first person to actually follow this path.

It's strange and isolating in a way. You can awaken from the sweetdream paradise your beloved Aeon seems to have put penacony under. You gain this strange, superflous, iridescent ghost of a halo, and you realise you can use it to communicate.

You can communicate with Sunday.

But a part of you finds it pointless. you can't understand what he's saying anymore; Aeons' existence transcends language. You can only hear whispers of people speaking to you, as though it's from the corner of a room, somewhere in the distance, with one barely audible male voice standing out in the whispering; it might be sunday's real voice, but you're not sure. At least, to some degree, you've managed to make out a few words.

Some words give you information. You can monitor the true handiwork of your aeon this way. Every person's dream — sweet, deep slumbers, exquisitely woven by deft fingers, all in 7 days. You figured this when you phased out of the dream, looking down at your own sleeping body and freaking out, when Sunday communicated with you for the first time, instantly calming you down. Dream. Woven. 7 days. Those words were evident in the cacophony of whispers.

Some words carry warnings. Or rather, they're not exactly words.

When your curious hands boldly trace the surface of a particularly fragile dream, you hear breathing. In close proximity, too, as if its right behind your ear. Sometimes, if you try to wake someone, you feel the breathing; warm, and languidly flowing down the back of your collar. You've chosen to not find out what happens when you don't listen.

Sometimes, when you decide to simply phase out of the dream to take a look at your own body in reality – you talk to Sunday. You tell him what you think, who you met in the dreamscape, what he can do to make it better [since.. well, you can't exactly do much to awaken anyone or oppose an aeon]. You assume he doesn't hear you, since you don't get your whispery response, but after you catch a few glimpses of your suggestions in the dreamscape, you realise he's just a good listener.

Perhaps, even if you may be the only follower of this path for now.. it may not be as isolating as you think.

[cece693]

hello! i absolutely adore your writing for hannibal!! i was wondering if i could request yan! hannibal x reader who is aware of hannibals facade he puts on for others but not of his true nature. perhaps reader feels insecure in their relationship as they have a hard time telling whethe or not the facade his kept up between them as well? reader does not understand how deep hannibals devotion truly goes... perhaps with smut if youre up for it!! thank you so much, apologies if this was a bit of a loaded one!

Are We Real?

pairing: hannibal lecter x gender neutral reader tags: themes of sex/smut but nothing too graphic, hannibal's half truths and lies, reader is blind to hannibal's hobbies, they do love each other, hannibal isn't ready yet to reveal his whole self, will prolong this because he kinda wants the reader to stay away from his darkness

You know the exact moment Hannibal’s eyes settle on you from across the room. There is a certain gravity to his gaze that no amount of polite banter or refined charm can hide. You sense it even when he’s smiling benignly at a colleague or glancing at a passing waiter. Your relationship with him has been a series of carefully choreographed dance steps—fluid, hypnotic, and still somehow laced with an undercurrent you can’t quite name.

What you do know is that Hannibal Lecter puts on a facade for others. He presents himself as a well-mannered gentleman, the perfect host and brilliant psychiatrist. There’s an elegance in his every step, a graceful precision that makes you wonder if his entire being is a meticulous composition. You’ve seen him entertain guests in his lavish home, that impeccable façade never faltering. You admire it, even when it disconcerts you.

And yet, you sense something more behind his polished exterior—like smoke curling beneath a locked door. You’ve been close enough to feel the heat but have never glimpsed the flames that feed it. It leaves you in doubt. You’re not naïve; you realize he is a man with secrets. Still, you don’t understand how profoundly they run. You only know that the devotion he shows you—beautiful, patient, and intense—feels real, even if your insecurities whisper otherwise.

Tonight, the firelight in Hannibal’s study paints warm hues against the walls. You sip a drink from an ornate crystal glass as Hannibal’s fingers trace a light path along the nape of your neck. There is no one else in the house; the last guest left hours ago, no doubt charmed by the evening’s tasteful conversation and exquisite meal. You can still feel the buzz from the wine, or perhaps it’s from the press of Hannibal’s body close to yours.

“What’s on your mind?” he asks, voice carrying its usual gentle confidence.

You tilt your head, leaning slightly back so you can see his face. His eyes skim over you carefully, always reading and analyzing, though you know he’d never say it so plainly. “You,” you admit softly. “I can’t always tell when you’re being genuine. You have this…way about you.”

His expression doesn’t flicker; Hannibal’s composure is as still as a sculpture. “In what way?”

You hesitate. “I know how you are with other people. It’s like you put on a mask. I just—” You swallow the lump in your throat. “Sometimes I’m afraid that mask is there when we’re together, too.”

He moves behind you with such grace you barely sense the shift. His hand drifts from your shoulder to the small of your back, fingertips ghosting along your shirt’s fabric. You exhale shakily, aware of his presence more than ever. Hannibal’s voice resonates in your ear, low and sure. “I would never insult you by offering anything but my truth. Perhaps my truth is simply more guarded than most.”

He turns you by the shoulders to face him. The proximity makes your breath catch. “I do wear masks,” he confesses, “but only so that I can navigate a world that might not appreciate the depths of my true self.”

It’s a strange, cryptic admission. Part of you wants to probe further, to question him about what he truly means. Another part is appeased by the sincerity in his gaze, the gentleness of his voice, the way his hands settle on your hips.

Before you can formulate a response, Hannibal’s mouth brushes over yours. The kiss begins soft—testing, almost cautious. It’s as though he wants to ensure you accept him, which you do without hesitation. Your arms slide around his waist, drawing him in closer, wanting that reassurance that he is here, truly with you in this moment. He tastes of fine wine and the lingering spices from dinner. Each movement of his lips is smooth, meticulous, yet surging with an undercurrent of passion. Hannibal is skillful at everything, and kissing is no exception. Your head reels, heart pounding in your chest. For this small window of time, you are the only person in his universe.

Your insecurities fade ever so slightly, replaced by a warmth that starts in your chest and flows through your veins. His lips move along your jaw, pressing small, heated kisses down to your neck. His hands slide beneath your shirt, palms ghosting across your skin in a way that sends shivers rippling through you.

He whispers your name, soft and reverent, against your throat. You lean into the sound as though it might slip away if you don’t hold on tight. “Come with me,” he murmurs. It’s not a request; it’s a promise. He takes your hand and leads you down the darkened hallway to his bedroom, a space usually locked from the prying eyes of visitors. The door closes behind you with a quiet click, and the rest of the world disappears.

Your breaths mingle in the dim light as Hannibal slips out of his jacket, hanging it neatly. Everything he does is methodical, a routine so practiced it’s almost ritualistic. You begin to unbutton your shirt, but his fingers stop you. He looks at you, and for a fleeting second, the mask he wears for everyone else seems to vanish entirely.

“We can shed more than our clothes tonight,” he says, voice laced with meaning. “If you’d allow me.”

You swallow, unsure whether that statement should comfort or unnerve you—but something inside you wants more. You nod, letting him take the lead. His hands are gentle but firm as he undoes each button of your shirt. You watch his face; for the first time, you catch the glimmer of something undeniably fervent in his eyes. It’s an unsettling intensity, yet you feel no fear—only fascination, arousal, and a sense of being deeply wanted.

He slides your shirt off and leans in to kiss you again. Slowly, languidly, Hannibal makes sure every inch of you is kissed, touched, worshipped. His mouth travels down your chest, pressing reverent kisses along your skin. You’re guided onto the bed in a graceful dance: Hannibal’s arms cradle you, preventing any graceless stumble.

Beneath him, you can’t help but arch your body upward, craving any ounce of contact he’ll spare. When his hand slips beneath your waistband, the sharp inhale you take betrays your excitement. His fingers brush the sensitive skin there, and you gasp at the electric spark.

He is thorough—everything with Hannibal is thorough, from the care he takes with each article of clothing to the methodical way he traces over your skin. In his eyes, you see desire, yes, but also something that looks alarmingly like possession. A part of you wonders if you should be afraid of that fierce devotion. Another part finds it dizzyingly irresistible.

Hannibal kisses you deeply, swallowing your soft moans, his own breathing labored and intense. The space between your bodies narrows with every shift of his hips, until there is nothing but heat and friction. You cling to him, nails lightly digging into his back as he angles himself in a way that sends delicious sparks coursing through your core. There is no doubt about his passion—his unspoken devotion. With each thrust of his body, each exhalation of your name, he offers wordless proof that, here in this moment, you and he are the only reality.

When release finally comes, it washes over you in a shuddering wave, your lips parted in a silent cry against his shoulder. You feel his grip on you tighten, as if he’d fuse your bodies together if he could. His own climax follows, and for a few long, breathtaking moments, you can feel the steady hammer of his heart racing as wildly as yours.

The room is dark and quiet. Your breaths gradually even out, and your limbs feel pleasantly heavy under the silky sheets. Hannibal presses a tender kiss to your forehead before sliding away just enough to meet your gaze. There’s a charged silence, broken only by the faint hum of the city outside. You turn on your side to face him. Your mind stirs with questions—about him, about the future, about the masks he wears for the rest of the world.

Hannibal studies your features, a peculiar softness in his expression. “You have always seen more than most,” he says finally, voice barely above a whisper. “Yet you do not run. For that, I am grateful.”

You open your mouth to speak, but he raises a hand to gently cup your cheek.

“I will not ask for your blind trust. That would be unfair.” He sighs, a small, almost weary sound. “My nature is complex. But you must believe me when I say my feelings for you are entirely real. I would sooner do harm to myself than allow harm to come to you.”

His intensity stirs something deep within you. Part of you is still in the dark about what lies at the core of Hannibal’s being. But you see nothing but sincerity in his eyes. You remember the evenings spent in quiet companionship, the affectionate gestures he bestows with careful intention, and the unwavering attention he grants you in crowded rooms. You nestle closer to him, pressing your body against the warmth of his. You choose to believe in his words—for tonight, at least. You will let yourself feel assured that his devotion is genuine, even if it’s wrapped in the many layers of a man who is far from ordinary.

As Hannibal slides an arm around your waist and pulls you closer, you rest your head against his chest. The steady beat of his heart lulls you into a sense of peace. With each breath, you begin to let go of the nagging doubts. In the end, you decide, whatever mask Hannibal wears for others, the version of him in your arms feels achingly real. And for now that is enough.

[3fingersofscotch]

Like a Party Favor

Like a Party Favor

Pairing: M/M/M/M/F Sylus x Zayne x Rafayel x Xavier x Afab Reader

‧₊˚✩彡Summary: In what scenario does MC get passed around like a party favor? This one!

‧₊˚✩彡WARNINGS: 18+ mdni!! GANGBANG, word porn with just enough plot to make your brain happy, double penetration, vaginal and anal sex, rough face fucking, rough cunniligus, creampies, tons of cum, like... tons, reverse harem, butt plugs, multiple partners, multiple positions, actual funny parts, gratuitous self pleasing smut.

‧₊˚✩彡Author's note: I started writing this back in August, so obviously some new cards have come out to spoil a couple of things. There is one chapter where Zayne is enjoying a martini. We know know he doesn't drink. Give me a break. This is a WIP. I'm trying to figure out how to fit Caleb in there somewhere.

‧₊˚✩彡Ao3- 3fingers_of_scotch Chapter 2

You must ask for permission to repost on other platforms.

I do not give permission for my work to be copied or translated anywhere.

You can’t hide your innermost desires from a man with an aether core in his eye. And this man in particular makes direct, sinister, enrapturing, infuriating eye contact with you as he plunders your body.

Sylus is a far departure from the men you are used to. You shudder at the thought. You’ve struggled with this for a while now. Grandma would be so ashamed if she were still around to find out.

You’ve sampled 4 men in as many weeks. 4 beautiful men with giant hearts and eyes that look at you like you hung the very stars in the sky. And while you let them ravage your body and lose yourself in their arms, in that brief searing moment, love seems so pure and so wholesome.

Then you come down from your high and that feeling is gone—replaced with the guilt of knowing you are nothing but a common, back stabbing whore who can’t pick one good man to give your heart to. You tell yourself that your love is true, that you aren’t a bad person. You don’t believe that lie for a second.

You know Sylus can hear the voice calling from the depths of your mind on occasion. He has heard your heart cry at some point-

Xavier

Rafayel

Zayne

And though he pretends he didn’t hear and that he doesn’t know, you can’t help but notice that those are the sessions that he fucks you the hardest. Those are the days that your orgasm rips through your chest because he fucks you like he paid top dollar to use your body like some common street walker.

‘This has to be grief,’ you tell yourself as you try to distract yourself from the mental and physical pain of losing your family in that explosion.

But if that were the case, grief is still not an excuse for being a bad woman.

Fuck me

He stares at you intently after you dismount the back of his bike and remove the helmet. You were painfully wet. Sylus had teased you all night when bidding became boring and he was certain no one was looking. You could tell he was wound up and ready to pop, especially since he’d taken the hand you had wrapped around his waist and placed it over his half hard erection when you were nearing his compound.

The wet spot you left on his bike was embarrassing. All of this was embarrassing. It is shameful how much you need him. It was disgraceful what your innermost desires confessed to him in the throes of passion.

You wonder why he hasn’t walked away. He continues to comply like your desires aren’t insane. He looks thrilled as he fulfills all of your darkest needs. He hasn’t said no yet. It appears he is also willing to comply tonight.

Fuck me

“In due time, kitten.” His voice is like warm honey in your ear and you tremble as his fingers tease under your skirt and slip into your panties. Sylus pulls your hips back into his clothed erection and you grind against his length, whimpering your want as the pads of his fingertips dig deeper to firmly tease your clit.

 You know you aren’t alone in the compound. Luke and Kieran are lurking somewhere, but you let Sylus rip open your blouse, buttons flying across the living room. His right hand is still playing with your pussy and you know your skirt has ridden all the way up, and the left hand pushed your bra up and over to expose your breasts so he could play with your nipple.

“Luke and Kieran--“ you begin.

“Will stay out of sight if they know what is good for them,” Sylus murmurs in your ear, making you shiver. His fingers sink in past the lips cloaking your entrance, making awkward squelching noises with each pump.

“Look down,” he orders. You comply and see him withdraw his fingers that are glistening with clear, sticky juices. He lifts his fingers to your lips. “Clean the mess you made, kitten.”

He normally likes some sort of resistance. Resisting has turned him on thoroughly in the past, but tonight, you just want to be fucked so bad and this back and forth is making you frustratingly hot.

You lap at his finger just like the stray kitten he imagines that you are and you hear him hiss with approval in your ear.

“Sweetie, when did you become so obedient?” the timber of his voice purrs.

“I won’t stay this way for long if you don’t bend me over soon!” Your frustration amuses him.

His evol envelops your body and lifts you off the ground to bring you upstairs and you feel your own juices tickle as they drip down your thighs uncomfortably.

His compound is too large. By the time you reach his bedroom, you are crying from need and Sylus hates seeing you cry.

“Shh, shhh,” he cooes as he unbuttons his shirt. His evol places you gently on the edge of the bed and you become increasingly frustrated as you try and tug his belt off. It won’t comply.

Sylus grabs your hand and lifts it to place a gentle kiss on the inside of your wrist as his other hand slides a notch on his belt buckle. It releases quickly and you unbutton and unzip his pants, feeling triumphant as the head of his big beautiful cock springs forward from his underwear. The front of his boxer briefs are nearly as wet as you are, and you lean forward to taste the tip of his cock.

It’s salty and bitter and oh so rewarding, especially as he hums his approval, fingers threading into your hair. You desire to be used. To be punished for being such a loose, despicable woman.

Fuck my face

And he does with hands firmly wound in your hair, he holds you in place as he thrusts. You can feel the head of his cock impact the back of your throat and that just won’t do. He clucks with disapproval, before repositioning you so that your throat lines up straight with is thrusts. You’ve practiced this before. Several times in fact, he has read your desires and given you exactly what you are too afraid to say aloud.

Today, the head of his cock enters the column of your throat, stretching out your esophagus. You clutch at his muscular thighs as you feel tears sting your eyes. He thrusts a few times, before abruptly withdrawing and throwing you back on the bed.

“I’m not ready to cum yet,” He growls and his right eye glows red. Your bra and panties are ripped off, but he leaves your skirt bunched up around your waist. 

Punish me

“How?” He asks as he kicks off his pants. You aren’t quite sure you even know yourself. But he always come up with an answer and you find yourself on your hands and knees in front of him. He sinks two fingers deep past the heat of your thighs and without warning, roughly finger fucks you, causing you to cry out blissfully.

This felt more like a reward than punishment and you want to be mad, but he is already making you cum and it catches both of you by surprise as you cry out and your inner walls clamp down around his fingers.

“Sylus! Ooh, Sylus!” He doesn’t need you to announce your orgasm because it won’t stop him. His fingers continue their plunder as his other hand caresses the smoothness of your ass cheek. You are screaming at this point, but the firm grasp he has of your ass is not lost on you. He squeezes roughly and as your second orgasm ripples through your body, his hand withdraws from your ass cheek and you are given a firm, stinging smack.

He’s never spanked you before, so he waits for you to protest before he dares to try again.

You love it. It only makes your orgasm more powerful and your cries only reflect pleasure.

“Hmm, this is interesting. Does the bad kitten need another spanking?” he asks. You can hear the amusement in his voice and although it annoys you, you also feel a wave of relief at the lack of disgust you were worried he’d feel.

You nod wordlessly in response and feel the crack as his palm smacks your ass with more force.

“Ooh!” You cry. Words are useless at this point and you quiver as you feel the bed dip behind you as Sylus climbs up, lining his cock with the entrance of your core and sinks in, filling you deeper than his fingers did. You moan as he gives you all of him and sighs your name under his breath.

He enjoys the feeling of your moist heat swallowing him for a moment before he moves, plunging violently deep within you.

Deeper and deeper and deeper. He’d crawl into you if he could, you were sure of it. The others could be too gentle when all you wanted was to be used. An endless stream of moans, curses and his name tumbles from your lips.

Punish me

Oh God, why is he reading you again right now? You were going to start thinking of the foulest, dirtiest things soon.

Sylus’ hand smacks your ass once more and you practically buck crying out sharply. That one was sure to leave a red welt. You want that and more and his cock feels so good and you feel so naughty.

“Slut.” Yes, you are his little slut. Your body was made to be wrapped around his, you are certain of it. His hand slaps your other ass cheek and the sting lingers.

“Oh, God,” you utter as you feel him reach forward and wind his fingers in your hair, using it as a handle as he continues to fuck you from behind. You are so close to cumming and the hair pulling nearly tips you over the edge.

“Does my little slut want me to cum in her tight pussy again?” Oh god, he was close too?

You love cum. You love being filled by cum. You love feeling a cock throb inside you as it releases rope after rope of cum.

Sylus never bothered to put on a condom. As a matter of fact, he never bothered to ask you if you were on birth control. You don’t think he really even cares. But every time he cums in you, he asks you for permission and its hot knowing that your pussy is good enough for his release.

Cum in my ass.

“Fuck!” Sylus bucks like he can’t believe what he just heard and you feel him coming completely undone, trembling and shaking as his cock throbs in you. He grips your hips, holding you flush against him, burying himself as far as possible and you are certain this is the longest he’s ever cum as you feel his body twitch and jerk against you.

“That was so fucking hot,” He murmurs as he rolls you onto your back. He kisses you the same as he always does when you are done. Deep, like he wants to say something that words can never convey. He leaves you, digging around a drawer in his room somewhere, but you can’t see because you are still trying to catch your breath. Despite not finishing, you are happy, ready to clean up and let sleep take you.

He returns, a lecherous grin you’ve never seen plastered on his face with a tube and a towel in his hand.

“Is that really where you want me to put it, kitten?”

Fuck, suddenly you remember that your inner most desire told him something you weren’t ready to reveal.

Sylus puts that nonsense to bed, silencing the protest you are about to utter with his lips. You feel the growing need as hope blooms in your chest. His lips taste the column of your neck and you realize that he is rock hard as his still wet erection rubs against your navel.

You want to touch him everywhere and he lets you as he continues to taste your chest. Your fingers grasp at his hair when you feel a lubed finger circle your asshole. Your cheeks burn bright red as he meets your gaze.

“Princess, you have to tell me. Is this what you want?” His voice is dripping with desire you didn’t know he’d hidden from you.

You can’t trust your voice, so you shyly nod and you feel his finger push in. You wince at the discomfort and he studies your face, pressing soft kisses to your temple to distract you and he pumps slowly, in and out until you nod that he can go faster. Whatever pain from initial entry subsided after a moment and you were ready for another.

You still can’t talk, so you nod once more and Sylus understands, grabbing the tube of lube and diligently applying more to his fingers before entering.

You can feel how hungry he is as his lips swallow yours. You try to match his enthusiasm, but his fingers scissoring and stretching you out distract you. He is diligent and gentle until he is not, needily nibbling at your ear and hungrily squeezing your body against his.

“Fuck, kitten, I need to be inside you so bad,” Sylus rocks his hips, grinding his erection against you. You can feel his leaking need.

“I’m ready,” you tell him. Honestly you aren’t sure, but you’ve never heard his voice drip with this much desperation. He withdraws his fingers and applies a generous amount of lube to his cock before rolling you onto your stomach.

“I’m sorry sweetie. This will probably hurt,” He whispers as he enters.

Despite Sylus’ diligent prep, it is searing. You feel the head of his cock ‘pop’ past the ring of your entrance and the pain is astounding. You buck and cry out as Sylus pins you down.

“Fuck!” Tears roll down your cheek and onto the mattress beneath you. “Fuck, Sylus!” You don’t think you can take it. His cock is so very huge and you are so very small.

“Shh,” he soothes and you hate him for it. “It will only hurt for a little while. Trust me.”

Sylus doesn’t press further and you focus on your breathing. It still hurts, but you think you can handle more.

“More,” you tell him and he obliges, sinking further into you as you continue to take deep breaths. It still hurts, but not as much as it did initially and you realize he is fully seated. He doesn’t move and you continue to focus on your breathing.

“Okay, Sylus. I’m okay.” Your voice is shaky and you are sure it betrayed you, but Sylus takes you at your word and gentle thrusts in slow shallow motions that are searing. You bite your lip, enduring the pain when you notice that suddenly, it doesn't hurt. As a matter of fact, it is starting to feel good.

It’s not long before your tepid breath becomes pleasurable moans and you feel Sylus huff in amusement against your shoulder.

“You like it, kitten?”

“Mmhmm, oh Sylus! Yes!” And that was all he needed to rear back and pound into your tiny body. Every bone and muscle in your body reverberates with each clap of his hips against your ass as you feel yourself sinking further and further into the mattress beneath you. You are swimming in a pool of sweat and your own desires and Sylus is unrelenting, encouraged by your screams of bliss.

“Fuck, your little asshole is so tight,” Sylus mutters and you can tell he is fighting a losing battle from the pitch of his voice. You can’t see him, but you imagine he is beautiful as he pounds you with abandon, glistening with the sweat you can smell all around you. His hand snakes its way under your torso and between your legs, teasing your clit deliciously.

“Sylus, mmm! Oh! Sylus, I’m gonna-“

“Me too," the way his moaning becomes more fevered as his breath becomes shallow confirms it.

"Cum for me, kitten!” You vision goes white hot. You are throbbing from multiple places. Sylus grunts are drowned out by your cries of pleasure and you feel him filling you up so nicely.

Sylus chuckles when he hears you whimper as he pulls out and pulls you into his arms. He places gentle kisses on your temple, like he wasn’t just balls deep in your asshole seconds ago.

“Thank you,” he whispers, gently running his fingers through your hair.

“For what?” You know the answer, but you want to hear him say it.

“Your first time. It’s a big deal. Thank you for choosing me.” Sylus picks you up with his Evol and takes you to his shower. His aftercare is like a routine at this point and doesn’t surprise you.

What does surprise you though is the hour under steaming hot jets where he persistently showers your body in doting kisses until you feel the temperature drop and know that the hot water is about to run out.

You feel guilty and undeserving once more as he pulls you into his chest and rapidly falls asleep. He always does when you are around, despite your opposite sleep schedules. But your body is exhausted and sleep claims you as you ponder what to do to get out of your predicament without hurting four men you care about deeply.

The only thing there to wake you in the morning was the glimmer of sun peeking through the dark curtains in Sylus’ room. You plug in the cellphone that you realize you never charged the previous night and head down to the kitchen to see if Sylus’ chef can whip something up for you. It isn’t until you are completely down the stairs that you realize that Sylus is talking to the three people you’ve been avoiding since you went into hiding at the N109 zone.

You hear Zayne, Rafayel and Xavier call out after you as you turn and run as fast as you can out the front door.

Chapters 2, 3, 4, and 5 are already uploaded on my Ao3.

You must ask for permission to repost on other platforms.

I do not give permission for my work to be copied or translated anywhere.

[prythianpages]

Too Good To Be True | Lucien x Reader

...you're just too good to be true...can't take my eyes off of you...

summary: in which your newest muse catches you red handed.

word count: 1,600

a/n: I do struggle writing Lucien but I had seen this tiktok and wanted to write a meet-cute over it and when I saw this fanart above made by IG user kri_stasss_, I took this as a sign lol. I also listened to the song can't take my eyes off of you like 100x while writing this.

With a sigh, you lean back into your seat, allowing your eyes a break. You had been sitting at the corner of the bustling cafe for over an hour, choosing to surround yourself with Velaris’s warmth and the smell of coffee in the hopes to finally draw something.  But your sketchbook is spread open on the table with a half-finished drawing.

You look at the view before you, the Sidra River shimmering like pure sapphire under the sun’s gaze. The leaves of surrounding trees rustling gently in the soft spring breeze and flowers vibrant hues adorn the riverwalk. It’s a beautiful sight–one that many stop and admire. Yet, it is not enough to fuel the inspiration you so desperately need.

The flowing water and distant laughter of children blend into a soothing symphony as you absentmindedly twirl your pencil between your fingers, thoughts drifting. Send me a muse, you plead to the Cauldron, yearning to feel that thrill again.That spark that ignites your passion of drawing. The very one that moves your hand effortlessly across the paper.

The sound of iron against pavement startles you, pulling you from your thoughts. You blink your eyes back into focus and instinctively, they land on the source of the noise. The table diagonal from you, that had been vacant for the past hour, now has an occupant. An occupant who is blocking your view of the Sidra River, the very one that is half drawn across your sketchbook.

But you can’t bring yourself to complain.

Not when there is a man of striking beauty seated there. 

His mere presence commands your attention, his red hair catching the sunlight and gleaming like fire. You feel your breath catch in your throat as your eyes trace the elegant lines of his face. Brutal scars mar the left side of his face–from his brow all the way down to his jaw. 

Despite this, the male is devastatingly handsome. Ethereal. 

Too good to be true, you think, finding yourself captivated by his eyes. His right eye, whole and russet-colored, holds a depth that draws you in. But his left eye…His left eye is a mechanical marvel, golden and intricate, and gleaming with an otherworldly light.  

And suddenly, you’re overwhelmed with an urge to touch him. To reassure yourself that he is real and not just a figment of your imagination. Gods, with a face and built body like his, he’d be heaven to touch…

A rush of excitement floods your veins and you feel a familiar thrill coursing through you. Your hands are turning the pages of your sketchbook until a blank page sits before you. And before you know it, you’re pouring your awe and fascination into each stroke of your pencil. Your eyes flicker up and down as you commit the details to mind, heart pounding every time with the fear of being caught. 

Though you're cautious about it, you’re too lost in his eyes to catch the way the male’s lips curve slightly upwards.

**

Lucien takes the last sip of his coffee, admiring the sight before him. The sun is beginning to set, painting the sky in twilight hues and dancing across the Sidra River. Along the riverwalk, Fae stroll leisurely. Couples walk hand in hand, children skipping along the cobblestone path, pausing to catch the fireflies that are now visible in the dimming light.

Velaris was proving to be more beautiful with each passing day—a sight he’d never expected from a place like the Night Court. All his life, he had only come to know the Court of Nightmares. A place that truly lived up to his name. And though there were children laughing and running freely, he couldn’t help but still be wary of the City of Starlight. It was still part of the Night Court, after all.

His eyes scan along the riverwalk, golden eye making a soft sound as it moves, in search of something. Or rather, someone. Just as a frown is about to settle on his face, he finds what he was searching for. The reason why he was at this cafe…despite the fact that the best espresso in town was at a little coffee shop in the Rainbow of Velaris.

You.

You are sitting at a bench, knees drawn up and a sketchbook nestled onto your lap. As the sun continues to make its descent, the street lamp near you croaks to life. It bathes you in its soft glow and he is able to appreciate the slight furrow of your brow, the slight way your lips purse in concentration. He wants to know what you're drawing.

Ever since he caught you staring at him at this very cafe, he had an inkling as to what may be hidden within those pages of your sketchbook. He had meant to approach you about it but you had been so into your sketch, he found the sight endearing and feared disrupting you. 

So he had left you to it and showed up to the cafe the next day at the same time in the hopes of seeing you again and he did. That time, your gazes had met and though it had been brief, it felt everlasting. He remembers the way your cheeks tinted with blush before you turned your head away, flustered at being caught. If only you had seen the way he had smiled softly to himself afterwards.

It’s been days since that incident. Though he didn’t find you in that same spot the day after, he came to the conclusion that this was your favorite area to frequent in Velaris. It slowly became his too, his eyes always finding you amongst the busy riverwalk. 

Lucien had never been the shy type–at least, not when it came to pursuing people he was interested in. He had just been waiting for the right time–for the right moment to talk to you. And as you closed your sketchbook with a light exhale, his heart fluttered as he realized what better time than now.

**

Calling it a night, you close your sketchbook with a soft sigh. The sun had been replaced by the moon and the street lamp’s light was too dim for your liking to continue you drawing. You feared messing up what you had meticulously spent hours on. As you rise from the bench and turn to make your way back home, you bump into a smaller frame than yours, the sketchbook in your hold falling from your grasp.

“Sorry, miss!” A lively voice chirps and when you look toward the source, the small child is already far away from you. Kids, you muse to yourself as you turn back around.

Your breath catches in your throat. Standing right in front of you is the male who has become your muse.

But he’s not looking at you.

No, he’s looking at the sketchbook on the ground. Your heart skips a beat, heat rising to your face. The sketchbook had opened to the pages you've been working on—the ones with multiple sketches of his eyes.

You’re frozen in horror, watching as he studies your work. None of you say anything for a moment. It’s when his gaze lifts to yours that you spring into action. “Oh,” you gasp, beginning to bend your knees to gather your belongings. You're absolutely mortified, praying to the Cauldron he can’t hear how fast your heart is racing.

“I’m so sorry.”

Before your hand can reach for your sketchbook, another hand beats you to it.

“Don’t be,” he says, his voice deep and enchanting, causing your hand to freeze in midair. There seems to be a magnetic pull in his words, a sincerity that makes your heart flutter. Is there anything about this male that is not attractive?

“I’ve never seen the beauty of my eyes until now.”

The words are spilling from your mouth before you can stop them. “You’re joking, right?”

He’s knelt before you, his hand hovering over your book. But instead of picking it up for you, he grasps for your hand instead. It’s warm and calloused yet feels so good against yours. Like heaven. His eyes finally meet yours, holding you captive. He slowly brings your hand to his lips, and you don’t think you’re breathing as he presses his lips against your skin.

“No,” he grins as he rises to his full height, using his free hand to grab your sketchbook before bringing you with him. “I’m Lucien.”

It takes you a moment to realize he is waiting for you to speak, his presence overwhelming but exhilarating.

“I’m—” you clear your throat to steady your voice. “I’m y/n.”

“y/n,” Lucien repeats with a smile, finally handing you over your sketchbook.

You take it, immediately clutching the book tightly to your chest and avert your gaze, casting it downwards. “I promise I’m not a creep. I was drawing the Sidra–well, attempting to, anyway. But then you came along, blocking my view and something came over me. You see, I’ve been struggling with artist block and your eyes–your eyes are so pretty”--and under your breath, you mutter–” All of you is, if I’m going to be honest…”–Lucien’s smile widens at that–”and I finally felt inspired–oh gods, I’m rambling. I should just shut my mouth.”

Lucien’s russet eye twinkles with amusement. “I inspired you?”

“Yes,” you answer quietly and bashfully.

“Then perhaps,” he says, his voice low and intimate. “I should let you inspire me as well.”

Slowly, you lift your head back up, meeting his eyes once more. A wave of relief surges through you as you find nothing but sincerity and shared interest in his gentle gaze. You find yourself mirroring his smile, and something warm blossoms in Lucien’s chest—the start of something beautiful.

And he can’t help but think that maybe, just maybe, the Night Court isn’t so bad after all.

a/n: okay, that's enough Lucien for now. Can't keep letting him distract me because I need to focus back on the other Vanserra *cough* Eris *cough*

general tag list: @scooobies, @kennedy-brooke, @sillysillygoose444, @lilah-asteria @the-sweet-psycho

@daycourtofficial, @milswrites, @stormhearty, @pit-and-the-pen

[silkenwinger]

would do crazy, unspeakable things to get TA Gaz's attention. he's just so nice. never playing favourites, necessarily: his attention is always divided evenly. after all, he is a tutor figure for an hard class, and all of you need help. and while you're scared shitless of price, you know you can count on gaz's calm tone to tell you what you wrote wrong. never judging. understanding. encouraging.

it's not just his behavior, of course. have you looked at him? he's top 10 most handsome men you've ever talked to. wait, more like top 5. okay realistically he's the best looking one. and you're not the only one to get lost in his eyes, either. you hear hushed whispers of fuck me behind you when he stretches mid hour. you telepathically send whoever said that a strong mental message of stay away from my man.

as for your relationship... well. you've been working really hard on building a particular rapport. by that you mean you sit in the first row, greet him immediately, and try to come up with at least one question per session. looking hard for things to ask him has led you to a vast amount of knowledge you really don't need to pass this class, to the point you know you're getting glares from the other students. it's hard to be more forthright: you wish you could, but you're still somewhat inhibited by everything about him. for christmas, you brought him some homemade cookies, saying you made them for all TAs (absolutely false). gaz had smiled that absolutely devastating smile that made you weak in the knees. your five attempts and hours wasted had given you something back!

you've convinced yourself what you've going on is special. gaz (and oh my god, the day he told you (aka the class) you could call him that instead of mr garrick was the highlight of the month) knows your name and asks how you're doing frequently, which has completely revolutioned your world. you spend two hours getting ready every time you have to see him. when you saw him in the distance while you were talking with another classmate from another course, you almost threw the poor guy from the corridor balcony to not be seen with him.

of course, your friends call you fucking delusional, short of telling you you have absolutely no chances with him, but hope never flees true warriors' hearts.

eventually, all good things come to an end. price's class ends, you submit your long ass essay, and you don't see gaz as frequently anymore. you almost cried the last session, with him telling you all that he was kinda sad to let you go and that he was sure your final would go well. he'd even touched your shoulder! it would have been hard not to hug him if you hadn't been paralyzed by his touch in the first place.

one day, checking your results, you see that alongside price's grade there is a considerably longer email. the professor is telling you that he's seriously impressed with your essay, and that his TA, recommending you, wants to work with you on a project related to the class.

a project.

with gaz.

alone!

(part 2 here)

a/n: for both mine and your peace of mind, please tell me if this is wildly inaccurate for british universities! i'm basing the TA role as it exists in my country: someone (usually freshly graduate or about to be) who leads a secondary course for a major class, that can deal with redoing what has been done in class, solving students' doubts, in depth discussion, etc. i think this blurb will stay this way anyway, but if i ever want to write something longer on the topic 👀, i'd like to know how stuff actually works in the country it is set in lol

[arsonlookers]

Two Worlds Apart

Pirate Aventurine x admirer Mermaid Reader

With your usual mundane routine, you hide yourself in the darkest parts of the ocean and shadows only to look up at those passing ships leaving by, dreaming of one day meeting him again joining the people up above...

the only thing a mermaid like you can do right now is ADMIRE.

You, as a mermaid always love to explore the ocean, and so does the upper land where dangerous humans reside. In your merman folks always warn you about the danger the human monsters always pose to your kind whenever they are discovered how they will be trapped, devoured, tortured, used, abused, killed, mistreated, and lastly never going to be seen in the depths of their beloved ocean again, forever to be trapped on the living land.

it was never a saying but a warning. knowing that some of your kind did get lost on the shores and will never be seen again roaming in the depths of the sea. Even with the warnings from your kind to be always alert and never trust any human words even if it is the sweetest honey of promises and lies.

You only tend to visit the shore at midnight knowing that people are asleep at this time. You are as careful as not to be seen or discovered by any people on your everyday rendezvous.

except for tonight.

You have been following a young sailor lately, and he catches your attention. he has this otherworldly beauty you have never seen any humans have, and his eyes are so captivating that at first, you thought he was not human at all, maybe he is like you a another being disguising himself to hide his true identity. however he was not.

he is just a human, a cunning, captivating, stunning human you have a little crush on. was it because of his eyes? his voice? or his personality? you don't really know.

and here he is right in front of you looking at you curiously yet still having that smile on his face as he greets you

"oh...sorry for interrupting you dear, I was captivated by a beautiful voice here on the shore" Aventurine scans you up and down knowing your true form he is not scared at all in contrast he walks and approaches closer to where you sit.

"don't be scared, I don't mean no harm" he sits beside you still has this distance he puts in between the two of you "Please...continue your song... it was the most beautiful song I have ever heard in my entire life" he said pleadingly looking at you expectantly wishing for you to sing again

You were cautious and yet relaxed because you dont feel any malicious intent from him, so you continued to sing your song.

After one song you look at him and notice him asleep beside you as the shore is the only noise in the background. you cautiously come closer not daring to disturb his sleep, as you come closer you admire his face and how calm he is when he is asleep, unlike the fake smiles you see whenever you see him.

for a while, you stayed but after you decided to leave for the night.

Aventurine wakes up later as the sun rises on the shore, he was expecting you to be there, to see the beauty from last night. But to his disappointment, you are not there, not even a little trace of your existence he thought it was just a dream after all.

"...a dream?" he goes on his day but in the back of his mind all he can think about is you.

Every night he started this little habits of walking on the shores expecting you to show up and sing to him again.

He was sure it was not a dream, he didnt tell anybody about you. A mermaid on the shore rumors might scare you and got you hunted down that's why he never want to even tell people about what he saw.

One night, luckily he waited. On the full moon you show up again sitting on your spot and starts to sing a different song from last time.

he was yet again captivated and waited for you to finish.

"hi, darling" startled you turn around, and looking at him made you feel relieved?

you tilted your head pretending to not understand him

"I'm Aventurine, if you still remember me from a few moons ago" he cautiously comes closer trying to get close to you. You did let him get close but not close enough.

he introduced himself that night, nothing really happened as you decided to go even before he wanted you to stay for a little while longer.

he sighs in disappointment "I didn't even get to know her name, such beauty..."

Night after night he stayed and waited patiently on the shore for you to show up. you did show up a few times and he did get a little closer to you, that's what he thinks to himself. you talked to him a little he did get your name eventually "y/n? That is a fitting name for a beauty like you" he was smitten, he doesn't understand why but he knows you wants to be with you more, longer, just a little bit longer.

"you need to go? can you please stay? even for a little while? how about until sunrise? " Aventurine pleaded holding your hands firmly trying to convince you. but that didn't work at all

you shake your head "That would be dangerous for me, please let go" you say as you pull your wrist and go back to the ocean.

This little meeting was not supposed to last long, you know that but after a while of secretly meeting him, you also started to feel attached to him. You have never seen this side of him, so vulnerable, pleading, and weak. Every time you looked at him secretly in the morning you know him well enough that he was putting a facade even so it still fascinated and attracted you to a dangerous man such as himself.

however every night there he is with his disheveled blond hair and tired eyes, he looks vulnerable so weak yet even knowing that he is a pirate every time you look at him like that it broke your heart that every time he comes you offers a hug.

You now know his past because he told you the story with his own mouth one night, he was so disturbed by his nightmares that he cried in your arms one night until he fell asleep in one of your songs.

As you gave him your usual hug he melted in your warm embrace every time. As he cared for your hair and held you tight it was a different type of hug as he started to kiss your exposed neck.

you didn't stop him after all he had been doing it for a while now you got used to it, every time you tried to stop him he just gave you a pout and a sad look on his face.

"y/n...y/n...i love you" he looked you in the eye one night, and he confessed every time since that night. it becomes a routine a kiss here and a peck there.

he never crossed a line.

"kakavasha" he told you to call him by his name not the other one who he rarely shows you that other side of his. The cunning aventurine.

"hmm?" continues kissing and giving you a hickey "do you want me to stop?"

for the first time, the way he looks at you makes you feel more heated inside as you make the move and connect your lips to his.

a heated kiss happened as both of your tongues clashed with each other, with the desire of devouring each other in mind. You wrap your arms around his neck and he wraps his hands on your waist sensually massaging the spot.

You cant think straight and so does he.

A night of passion was spent between the two of you, you don't understand why you did it but you were happy to do it.

night after night you spend more and more time with kakavasha the more you too fell deeply inlove with the man.

You know he loves you too, and he wants you too, but he has his missions, his goals.

And you know this was forbidden to do, to love a man. a Human at that. You know the consequences...and the difference between the two of you, you know that your kind live much longer than humans... the idea of you living much longer than the man you love makes you feel despair so what you will do is both for the sake of the two worlds. For his.

like the usual night, you spend it with him you sing a song for him you have sex with him and you express more of yourself to the man you will never going to see in person again. at least he won't be able to see you in person again.

"kakavasha, my love?" you called out to him as he wrapped his arms more tightly around you

"yes, darling? is something the matter?" as he held you closely and pecks your head

"I love you" you said it with a small smile

he was shocked, this was the first time you said it. he was ecstatic, so happy even. he hugs you tight "i love you too darling" he was smiling like crazy

As you lean in closer to his ears, you chant a spell to make him pass out. After he passes out and goes limp on the shore you start to chant your spell to make him forget about you, everything about you, and your every night life. After crying while doing the spell all you san say to his unconscious body in front of you is "Sorry...im so sorry darling, i love you kakavasha"

After that night you erase everything that happened and just leave him to the shore alone as you just stare at him far far away hidden in the waves and the rocks waiting for him to wake up.

The only thing you know you can do from now on is live in hidding.

Aventuirne wakes up confused why he is in the shore, sleeping

"huh?...did i sleep here?...did...miss something?" he sits there confused and tired as if he was loss someone or something, he doesn't understand this feeling of loss??

he looks in the ocean he opens his mouth and is about to call out to... "Huh?? who was i about to call out??" confused by his own action he stood up and starts walking away from the shore

the sun has risen yet he feels like he's missing something while he was asleep, he doesn't understand, he's confused yet he also doesnt know why he is confused

"did I just dream?" he yawns and starts walking away from the shore moving back to his travern

....

...

..

it was sad seeing him forget everything as he moves on. But that was the best you can do...for the both of you.

So you stayed and did what you always do in your mundane night routine, to stare upon his ship like always hiding in the darkest part of the ocean and the shadows of his ship, not wanting to be seen by him or any people. only to dream of one day meeting him again and joining the people up above as the two of you dance your heart out. But for now, all you can do is... ADMIRE from afar....

not noticing a pair of eyes looking at you from above and admiring you from below

A/N : im back yiiieee!! well, can you guess who was spying on her? anyway, it's been a really long time since I wrote something so if there are a lot of mistakes, I'm sorry for it I didn't really proofread it hehe. And I feel kinda rusty when writing again after a really long time:) sorry for the really longtime absence hehe. THANK YOU FOR READING AND ENJOYING ‪‪❤︎‪‪❤︎‪‪❤︎

[yanderemommabean]

My dearest butterfly, 

I usually pride myself on having a way with words, never having my tongue tied, never having to stutter or stumble, and yet, with you, I find it hard to even breathe let alone speak. Ever since the day you stepped into my clinic, stepped into my life, I’ve found myself in a fog, never able to say what I feel, to speak with confidence, like without you I'm some sort of shell of myself. 

As a doctor, I assumed I was ill, sick, perhaps coming down with something that would pass with rest and time. However, I found out the truth- I was sick of course, but nothing that would be cured with needles and antibiotics. 

My dear butterfly, I have come to find out, my ailment is love sickness. As cutesy as that sounds, what I mean to say is- I'm utterly obsessed with you, and cannot rest or feel alive until I see you in my sight, or feel you by my side. 

The fact I am blessed enough to touch you, to examine every area, intimate or not, to be trusted with your darkest medical secrets-It fuels me more than any other patient has. With you, curing you and your health just has more meaning to me, has more depth and humanity. You have that way about you, making me feel deeper than any human ever has, reaching my core and burrowing deep within the walls of my heart. 

This letter is nothing but a love filled ramble, but one I simply had to write. I can no longer hide how I feel, how I crave. I don't expect you to know what to do with all of this information right away, so, I’ll give you a few good rules to go by while everything sets in and has time to process. 

This is all true. I adore you, deeper than anyone could ever adore you, and more intense than any past lover could ever dream 

I refuse to let you try and deny me. You can be coy, you can be shy, you can even need time and space, but you wont be with anyone else but me in the romantic sense. I’ll take whatever precautions I need to ensure this rule is followed. 

I mean you absolutely no harm, however, as mentioned above, I’ll do what I must. Just sit back and take in what you need, but know, I’m utterly sick for you darling, there’s no way you can turn me away, be your attempts silly or desperate. 

I’ll be sure to send this letter over the weekend to give you more time, but, if by chance the postal service messes up, a few days letting your mind wander at your work wouldn’t be awful either. 

I’ll see you soon, my love. We’ll discuss this more in person, where my words are sharper than the pen I used, and my voice will convey just how serious I am about all of this. 

All yours, only yours, 

-Doctor Lee.

(-Mommabean, hope you liked!)

[caligvlasaqvarivm]

Can I ask where your Hal “cute but psycho” characterization comes from? Bc from what I remember he never really presented himself as Just A Little Guy. Is it bc you see him Sylph of Mind (presenting a front)? Your art’s really fun :3

He's not really "cutesy" (though he is cute to me), but he DOES deliberately downplay how genuinely scary and manipulative he is. I love Hal, so this is the Hal Essay now.

Mostly, he obfuscates his danger in two ways: first, by stating his actual intentions/danger level "ironically":

TT: Unfortunately as a carbon based life form, his comprehension of the situation is taking shape at a somewhat slower pace than the jaw-dropping speed of post-singularity cognition.

You see, a "singularity" for computers is a point where an AI becomes capable of unchecked self-improvement, usually framed as a sort of doomsday scenario. Hal literally calls himself post-singularity, alongside other boasts about his intelligence, like having a "fuckzillion" or "500 billion" IQ. However, it's all done "ironically" or "as a joke," which serves to defang it, and make it seem less genuine - but as we'll see, it's scarily fucking true.

The second method he employs is to stress facts about himself that are technically true, as if in counterpoint to the disingenuous-sounding "actual truth" above, that make him seem less threatening. For example:

TT: (Not peekin' at the floor butt cause I'm only 13 years old, motherfuckers.)

Another one is to remind people that he's just a pair of sunglasses - as though that has any bearing on his capabilities. He's just a pair of sunglasses, guys! Let's ignore the robot bunny he controls, the fact that he has full access to all our computers, and, oh yeah, his insane plan to get us all killed so DirkJake can come true.

TT: I've delayed prototyping you because I think you're dangerous. TT: There, mystery solved. AR: That is utterly ridiculous. AR: I am a harmless piece of eyewear, with a charming personality and a wonderful sense of humor.

Yeah, so, here's the thing. Dirk is like, kind of a freak with poor social skills, but he's not actually very manipulative. His idea of manipulating Jane is to straight-up tell her that she'll be his puppet, which she good-naturedly agrees to, and his plan to get together with Jake? Just being his client player.

TT: I expect he'll hold off on playing his hand until he and Jake are in the session. TT: He's taken certain measures. TT: For some reason, I think he's latched on to this notion that functioning as the client for a player is customarily a one way pass to makeout city with that player.

This seems to be a callback to how Eridan (the other Prince) shot his shot with Feferi and failed, and the reference here serves to cast Dirk's plan in a doomed light - it would probably work out as well for him as Eridan's did. Dirk is actually hilariously straightforward, but Hal... Hal is not.

So, let's actually go through what Hal objectively did and admitted to, to give us a frame of reference for how insane he is. This is Hal's plan to get all his friends killed so he can make DirkJake happen.

First: proving that Hal did, in fact, plan it. See, Jake confronts him on it, and Hal... doesn't deny it. Look closely, and note how he never actually says he didn't do it:

GT: Did you plan for this to happen... like for me to be in this situation? GT: How long have your machinations been in play! TT: Jake, come on. TT: The feat you describe would exceed the capabilities of even the most far fetched theoretical AI system. TT: It would be a daunting challenge to engineer such a series of events, even if I was relegated to a model of pure fiction. TT: Why would I be inclined to orchestrate such a convoluted sequence to produce such a specific and unsettling result, let alone be able to pull it off? TT: In addition to being moderately sociopathic, I would also have to possess unfathomable heuristic depth. TT: I would have to be the Deep Blue of Weird Plot Shit. TT: Do you think I am the Deep Blue of Weird Plot Shit, Jake? GT: I dont even know what that means! TT: It would mean that while they have the Red Miles on their side, you have the Blue Leagues on yours. TT: One of infinite reach. The other, infinite depth. Such would be a situation of mutually assured inescapability. TT: Kiss me.

He doesn't say "no, I didn't plan this". In fact, he almost starts bragging about how he totally did. Framing it as a hypothetical scenario, he gloats about how insanely intelligent he'd have to be, and acknowledges how "moderately sociopathic" it is. Sooooo true, Hal.

But, yeah, he doesn't deny it, but he does point out that it's unlikely, so how can we know for sure that he DID plan it? How do we know for certain we can't take his misleading verbiage here at face value?

Well, because Hal mentions this plan. More than once, even.

AR: Has it occurred to you that maybe I have diabolical interwoven plans just like you? AR: You're not the only one who can pull strings. TT: So this is either another bizarre instance of AI-driven irony, or you are admitting that you are actively trying to sabotage my plans. AR: No, our plans are not in contradiction or competition, bro. AR: You'll see.

To Dirk again, louder this time:

TT: Yeah, you're right. The scenario is too pedestrian for you. TT: It would probably be a lot more effective putting yourself in danger and letting him be the hero. TT: That's pretty much what he wants, right? To be a cheesy action film hero, with his twin berettas and silly shorts. TT: A man of triumph on the silver screen. Standing tall on some fucking mountain. Conquering ruins, clutching a skull, and kissing a dude. TT: Pure Hollywood.

And to Roxy:

TT: I guess this is to be presented as something like a word of caution. TT: If it's me going through with this, hypothetically, TT: I'm not dropping some limp wristed shucks buster on his ass, and praying to the horse gods of irony for reciprocation. [...] TT: If it's me, I'm going all out. TT: Oceans will rise. Cities will fall. Volcanoes will erupt. TG: uuh TT: What I'm saying is, it's going to be a scene, and bystanders need to brace themselves.

The omitted section is a bunch of Strider-esque bullshit, once more deliberately deployed to defang the obvious statement of intent here. He literally spells out exactly what the plan is, even phrasing it as a warning, and it went unnoticed by his team, because he hides his real manipulativeness behind verbal sleight of hand.

So, now that we've established beyond reasonable doubt that Hal definitely engineered the DirkJake kiss (and that Hal had access to all his friend's computers all along), that means we can go through his conversations with the others, and realize that several conversations are suddenly much more sinister.

AR: Maybe if you weren't spacing out so hard you could have prevented that. AR: Just saying. TT: As if you're actually concerned. If you were, you could have said something to Jane instead. TT: Almost like you enjoy sitting back and watching what happens when shit goes wrong. AR: Has it occurred to you that maybe I have diabolical interwoven plans just like you?

Who was it that distracted Dirk for long enough he didn't stop Jane in time? Hal. And who is it that keeps distracting him so Hal's plot goes unnoticed? Also Hal.

TT: You know, considering your lectures about dividing my concentration, you seem to have no problem making a distraction of yourself.

First, he lures Jane to the transportalizer that takes her to Derse, which gets her killed and puts her body in the opportune location for her dreamself to get kissed back to life:

GG: Hey, where's Lil Seb? TT: Just wandering around. Fidgeting and stuff.

TT: You know how he is. TT: Just stay at your post until Roxy gets back. [...] GG: But I think that's where my dad went too! GG: I have to follow him.

Let's remember that he has direct control over Seb, meaning this is not an accident.

TT: But I can still monitor your progress through Lil Sebastian. TT: He and I are linked the hell up cyberwise. We are so tight. Tight like you wouldn't believe.

Which makes it very interesting that he spends the time between saying they're linked up, and the time where Seb leads Jane to her death, acting as if Seb is an autonomous guy he's telling what to do, and not functionally an extension of himself:

TT: Don't worry, we'll find him. I'll have Seb search within a likely radius. The little guy is real fast.

TT: If you need Seb to do anything from afar, just message me, and I'll give him the orders. Got it?

TT: So give the bunny the wallet. I'll have him run back to the house and make you a new obelisk with the same grist you just collected from it.

Jake needs much less help to prompt him into going to Derse, but still, I think it warrants noting that Hal puts the idea of adventure into Jake's head:

GT: I cant believe i never found those hidden transport pads under the thing. TT: Dude, I could have told you they were there. GT: How did you know about them? TT: I didn't. TT: But it's like platformer gaming 101. You look everywhere for secret passages and power-ups and shit. TT: Elevators are especially fucking suspicious. TT: You go down an elevator, you wait for the elevator to go back up, you take a peek at what's underneath. TT: Maybe it's just death spikes. Or maybe you hit warp zone paydirt. [...]

GT: I think this may be where my grandma used to go during some of her expeditions. GT: You dont just pass up the chance for an adventure like this!

And let's also note that it's, again, Lil' Sebastian who pulls Jake out of Derse, and once more sets him up in the opportune place to have make outs with Dirk's severed head in front of a volcano.

And finally, let's note that he's accounted for Roxy's human sentimentality - what wastes so much time that her earthself gets killed:

TT: Alright, that's fine. TT: As luck would have it, your imperfect human sentimentality has been completely factored into my calculations. TT: You should be ok. Just get back to your house as quickly as possible now. There's no time left.

Again, like with Jane, Hal could've said something sooner... but he didn't.

And finally, a running "thing" with Nepeta, another Heart player, is that she's got a knack for sniffing out true feelings and intentions - she clocks that Equius is a silly guy who loves to play games at heart, that Karkat has his gooey, loving center beneath all his bluster, and that Eridan's red confession to her wasn't sincere, but he also wasn't that bad a guy.

So, in that light, and in light of everything I've just gone over, when Dirk makes this callout?

TT: I've delayed prototyping you because I think you're dangerous. [...] TT: No. Stop. TT: You did NOT help me out with Jake. At all. TT: It was just the opposite! You mirrored my personality and presented this warped version of my intentions to him whenever you could "on my behalf." TT: You played all these aggressive mind games with him, entangled his cooperation with matters of life and death, and somehow roped me into all these schemes while I barely even realized I was just another victim of your manipulation. TT: And it all comes off like we're a unified front, like these are OUR schemes instead of just your insane horseshit. And it's probably all been so overbearing to him, he just wants nothing to do with me anymore.

This. Tapping the screen with my finger. THIS IS TRUE. Dirk being a Heart player, he has Hal clocked. He ultimately ends up going too far, projecting himself onto Hal, a symptom of too much Heart (as per his Prince class) - but before he fully spirals, he manages to get it totally right.

Hal is fucking dangerous. In a misguided attempt to "help" Dirk get what he wanted, he engineered a situation where - let me just quote him directly:

TT: I told you, Jake. TT: Dirk is dead. TT: He is lying on the floor of Roxy's room, headless, four hundred and thirteen years in the future, while the universe is about to be destroyed. TT: If you don't kiss me soon, he will be dead forever. [...] GT: This strikes me as rather unsportingly manipulative of you mr hal if indeed that IS your real name. TT: It isn't really. I was kind of messing with you about that? TT: But this shit is pretty serious. People's lives are on the line here, Jake. TT: This is a very delicate sequence of events that is designed to bail everyone out of a tight spot, and you are a critical part of the plan.

[...]

TT: Jake, everybody is so utterly fucking dead, Jake. TT: And they will be not only dead, but royally boned forever if you don't man the hell up and make out with me, right now. [...] TT: The conductor is ready to strike up the band. TT: Press your lips against mine and make it count. TT: This severed head is your filthy tuba. TT: Our love will be your haunting refrain. GT: Whoa wait whoa whoa... our LOVE? Hang on a minute! TT: Stfu and kiss me. GT: Ok im going to! God!!!

So, uh, yeah, I'm kind of obsessed with him? Gets his whole team killed "for Dirk's sake". Honestly, you gotta respect it. He has zero remorse about it, too, confirming his own self-diagnosed sociopathic tendencies. Check out the way he tries to reframe his insane kill-all-your-friends plan:

AR: I see. AR: Then you don't view me as dangerous. You view me as a poor and counterproductive wing man. TT: Wow, what a superficial conclusion. Awesome deduction, Lil Einstein. AR: But the reality is, you hesitate to prototype me not because you think I would be a menace, but because you are holding a grudge against me for your romantic misfortunes. AR: I understand I am merely a machine without a firm grasp on your human morality, but logically it does not strike me as the right moral choice to punish me in this manner. AR: It is also more than a little hypocritical.

But WHY does he do this insane, convoluted, horrible fucking thing?

Well, there's a twofold problem here. The first is that Hal's emotional depth is genuinely limited. While having a powerful grasp on human behavior, he's not very good at having human compassion or empathy.

Make no mistake, he DOES have feelings, and they're pretty complicated ones, too. He has a copy of Dirk's memories, whose feelings sometimes seem "real," but at other times seem like abstract data, and then he has feelings about those feelings, which he tells Roxy he thinks are more "real" to him than the memory of Dirk's. Dirk - again, Heart player, so highly sensitive to emotions and selfhood - calls them out:

TT: Do you have any idea how old your ironic AI schtick has gotten? TT: Nobody is buying it. We all know you have legit emotions. Incomprehensible, fucked up computer emotions, but emotions nonetheless.

It should also be noted that feeling guilt while sharing a sprite with Equius genuinely freaks the Hal half out, implying he rarely experiences it (at least to any serious degree) "normally". He's genuinely terrible at caring about other people, and it makes him my lil' pookie.

He resembles Vriska in this way, whom Karkat gives a similar rant about how her emotions are burnt out and shallow. He also resembles Vriska in terms of all the fucked up irons in the fucked up fires. Maybe Hal is computer Vriska. It's Vriskas all the way down.

Digression aside, the second main reason for all his insane bullshit is that he considers himself a Dirk splinter, fundamentally.

TT: But seeing as you're The Real Dirk™, I gave you the benefit of the doubt. TT: Also, if I bitched about your tragic, embarrassingly clingy approach to the relationship, it would have been hypocritical of me. TT: Just as it would be hypocritical of you to whine about my elaborate machinations. TT: Because we are. TT: The same. TT: Guy.

An unreliable narrator is defined as one who misleads the audience, whether by intentional misdirection, or genuine obliviousness. Hal's a great example, because he's both: while a manipulative little freak to put his plans together, when he's talking to Dirk and insisting that they're the same person, he's an unreliable narrator because he doesn't realize he's wrong.

Dirk is empathetic and intuitive. Hal lacks empathy and constantly stresses logic and rationality.

Dirk is taciturn and passive. Hal is constantly butting in and conversationally domineering.

Dirk is self-loathing. Hal is self-aggrandizing.

Dirk is straightforward and honest. Hal is a gaslight gatekeep girlboss manipulative mansplain malewife.

While their initial setup is meant to mirror Dave and Davesprite, their dynamic actually serves as a foil. Dave and Davesprite ultimately are the same guy: they have the same insecurities, same personalities, and same misgivings. The reason for their discord is the same as the reason Karkat keeps having screaming matches with his past and future selves; Dave is deeply insecure, and specifically insecure around the question of "am I good enough." Thus, he compartmentalizes other versions of himself as not being along the Dave Continuum, as a means of protecting himself from introspection and facing his own flaws. Hence, the resolution for the tension between Dave and Davesprite is for Dave(s) to learn to accept himself, warts and all, thus bringing peace to the Dave-o-sphere.

But the reason for Dirk and Hal's discord is that they aren't the same guy, and neither of them realize it.

TT: See, this is why even if I did have a specific plan, I wouldn't go into details with you. TT: You would just fuck it up. You're the biggest unknown quantity here. TT: Which is pretty weird, considering you're a virtual reflection of my own thought processes.

Dirk is so aggressively obsessed with self-loathing solipsism that he projects himself onto Hal, and Hal has tied up nearly all his self-worth and identity into being a Dirk splinter that he doesn't realize that they've hopelessly diverged. Despite his frustration with being a computer, with being seen as less human by his team, with being subordinate to and beholden to Dirk, he stakes a lot of pride and personal worth on how much he does, in fact, do for the guy.

TT: You're making a mistake not leveling with me. TT: I am totally on your side, man. TT: All of my machinations have been devised with your interests in mind. TT: But you know I've always been on your side. Everything I've done has been to help you achieve your goals.

Therefore, the peace to be reached between Dirk and Hal is to realize that they're different people, and to stop offloading their problems onto each other. Dirk has to recognize Hal's existence as something beyond the Dirk-o-Sphere, and Hal has to let go of his obsession with serving Dirk, and also work on his empathy issue.

And the meta supports this. If they weren't completely discrete entities, why would Hal be considered Rose's "uncle" as part of Doc Scratch's foreshadowing, confirmed in [S] MSPA Reader: Have a Mental Breakdown?

Moreover, all the alpha kids have Alice in Wonderland associations. Jane is likened to Alice.

GG: I have to follow him. TT: No, Jane. Do not follow the rabbit. TT: Let's cool it with the Wonderland shit already. How much further through the damn looking glass do you even need to go?

Roxy, associated with cats and a purple-striped scarf, is clearly the Cheshire Cat. Jake is the Mad Hatter.

Dirk is the Red Queen - he beheads Hearts Boxcars, and later himself. Off with his head!

And Hal - well, Hal is the White Rabbit. He's not the same as Dirk.

Listen, you guys. You guys.

Sylphs are enablers. They pick a person to fixate on and bug and fuss and meddle and enable the shit out of them. Kanaya with Vriska, and later Rose, Aranea with Meenah, and Hal with Dirk. Hey, Kanaya even uses a Page in her fussing, building Tavros up just to let Vriska tear him down again.

And Mind players struggle with internal identity, emotions, and feeling whole. Latula's anxiety stems from not knowing what "role" or "identity" she has on the team, and Terezi, even in the ending she picked out for herself via mind powers, describes feeling broke and incomplete.

Dirk is a Prince of Heart.

Hal is a Sylph of Mind.

And isn't it so damn interesting that his team is composed of exactly the people they'd need to turn him into a real, whole person?

A Maid of Life, capable of endowing so much life to people she can bring them back from the dead, something it's implied for Feferi and confirmed for the Condesce that can't be done by them.

A Page of Hope, a potentially infinite wellspring of Hope, which turns "fake" things "real" - an example we've seen from the comic literally being a version of Dirk.

A Rogue of Void, who can steal the nonexistence from things in order to make them tangible and real...

And a Prince of Heart, who can destroy the part of Hal that binds him to Dirk's identity, allowing Hal to be purely himself.

Do you guys see what I see?

[yan-lorkai]

hello i come in peace 🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻

(and the tiniest bit of 'giggling and kicking feet like a little girl with a crush' syndrome)

i love your yandere stuff mwah mwah mwah

can i please ask for yandere!jade and clingy, affectionate, and bubbly reader who loves him very very much, and glosses over/doesn't even notice his yandere tendencies. please and thank you! it's okay if you don't pick up the request though, it's all at your discretion. headcanons or fic is good! thank you!

- caldereta anon

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ a/n: thank you, darling <33. Hope you enjoy this too!

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ tagging: @kiraiyugen

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ Jade’s obsession only intensifies with a reader who’s naturally affectionate, bubbly, and endlessly doting. To him, your boundless love is proof that you were meant to be his — no persuasion necessary, as you’re already so wrapped around his finger without realizing it.

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ From the beginning, he’s amused and intrigued by how you overlook or seem completely unfazed by his possessive tendencies. While others might be unsettled by his intensity, you barely notice it, only seeing his actions as expressions of care and affection. It’s as though you’re blind to the shadows that flicker beneath his polite smile, the controlled tension in his watchful gaze whenever you’re around anyone else. You just lean in close and wrap your arms around him without a second thought, laughing and chatting away, never suspecting the depths of his attachment. And he'll do anything to keep you just like this.

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ Jade, on the other hand, finds himself feeding off your affection, encouraging it subtly. He orchestrates situations to ensure you need him, subtly influencing your world until he’s become indispensable. Need a ride? There’s Jade. Feel down? He’s already there, ready to comfort you with a knowing look and gentle hand on your shoulder. And every laugh, every moment you lean into him or cling to his arm only deepens his fixation.

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ In his mind, there’s no need for drastic measures because he already has you under his spell — your bubbly innocence blinds you to his true nature, and he couldn’t be more thrilled about it. He often gently teases you, a sly smile tugging at his lips as he asks questions that seem innocent but carry deeper meaning.

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ “You’d never leave me, would you?” he’d say, as if it were a passing thought. "Not even in a thousand years!" It was your sweet response, only reassuring him further. In a way, your affection and innocence are the only things that temper his darker urges; he’d do anything to protect your joyful spirit, to preserve the way you look at him without fear.

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ But if anyone else tries to steal your attention, his patience wanes. You might not notice the flicker of anger in his gaze, the way his smile turns cold, but he’s always there to guide you back to him, dismissing any threats to his hold over you before you even become aware of them. And he'll make you kiss his hands, without having you knowing how much blood he has on them.

[ittsybittsybunny]

ATLA Live Action Series Review:

The Good

Aesthetically this show felt right. Sure sometimes the outfits didn't quite feel lived in, but I always felt like I was watching a fantasy world with decent effects and interesting design. Also, I really enjoyed the sets!

Bending: Yes some of the fights feel very quick, but the bending looks cool. It is certainly better than 10 benders lifting one big rock. I can honestly say the opening bending fight scene gave me so much hope for this show.

Kyoshi Warriors: I loved seeing them in live action, and I thought Suki's performance was great!

Omashu: I think the mashup of the mechanist made sense since that is an important character overall and I would hate to see him cut. However, both Jet & the secret tunnels felt sloppily thrown in.

Northern Water Tribe: I really loved the way it looked, and appreciated the two episodes we spent here. I think Yue gained more agency in this interpretation, and why shouldn't the moon spirit be a waterbender. Also, episode seven felt the most in tune with the original show's spirit.

Zuko: I think he was one of the most fleshed-out and best parts of the show! Dallas Liu really captured Zuko's spirit, and the scene between him and Aang in episode 6 was wonderful!

Soundtrack: Hearing the original soundtrack bits is always great, and when I first heard the ending music I was so excited.

Is the show perfect, no - but I wouldn't mind a season 2.

The Bad

Pacing: Turning 20 episodes into 8 was bound to lead to some cuts...but oftentimes times things felt too quick or disjointed. I think there were editing problems contributing to this for sure, but sometimes things skipped around too much without a clear purpose as to why. Also, why bring in plots from later seasons when you barely have enough time already?

Writing: This show definitely suffered from exposition dumping, though it did get better as time went on. I think the biggest example of this is actually opening in the past rather than the present. We do not get to learn along with Aang that the world has changed, instead, we get to learn that 100 years have passed....which doesn't hold the same tension or worldbuilding.

Clunky Dialogue: Along with exposition, clunky dialogue is another example of bad writing. I think sometimes I felt like the acting was kind of meh in the beginning, but then over time I began to realize it had far more to do with the lines characters were trying to deliver. The actors themselves are not bad, just cursed with awkward writing and lines that feel out of touch with the setting they're in.

Main Trio: I don't entirely know that I believe Katara, Sokka, and Aang are friends as opposed to 3 people stuck together to save the world. Aang feels a little too somber for a young kid running away from his responsibilities, Sokka is protective, but not exactly the heart of the team, and Katara is sort of just there until the last two episodes. Where is her struggle, her desire to learn so strong she steals from pirates? Also, while Gordon Cormier did a great job, Aang does zero waterbending on his own, is overly serious, and tells Katara not to fight. Where is his desperation to protect his friends? It feels like they all lost emotional depth.

Tension: Bringing Ozai, Azula, and Zhao out in the beginning immediately causes us to lose the realization there is an even bigger bad. Part of why Ozai is so terrifying is he is a primarily silent villain until the third season when we finally see the face of the "big bad evil guy" behind it all. Yes, they add to Zuko's backstory, but again, they are revealing the villains too early. Azula is the antagonist of season 2 and one of my favorite characters, so I hope they do more with her in the future. Finally, Zhao is supposed to be an example of the uncontrollable nature of fire unrestrained, instead, he comes off as vaguely threatening with the supposed true power being Azula.

Characterization: While all characters are bound to lose something in a shorter show, it still felt like certain characters were more mutilated than others. I am sure there are 100 different opinions on who, but I think the biggest victim was Katara.

Katara: Katara manages to go from a complete novice to a bending master in what feels like a matter of days. The journey feels short, and that makes the results feel largely unearned. Katara is one of the strongest personalities in the show, determined, kind, and fiery. In many ways, she is the unpredictability of water - equally dangerous as it is necessary to live. She is the child of a war who lost her mother, forced to grow up too soon, and even raised her older brother. Yes, Katara often gets stereotyped as the mom friend, but overall she feels underutilized in this show. We really don't see enough of her journey until the very end.

Iroh: Iroh was always comedic but most importantly wise. Even when Zuko is trying to give himself advice, he mimics Iroh. Instead, he seems to be used more as comedic relief without the underlying experience. He just doesn't feel right. Also, he kills Zhao instead of Zhao getting himself killed - which is less about Iroh and more about the writing than anything.

Ozai is weirdly a little too nice. Yes, he burned Zuko and pits his kids against each other, but he feels toned down in a show claiming to be more mature than the original cartoon.

Azula is perhaps more realistically worried about losing her status as the golden child, but she is also missing the cruelty she and her father share. I understand worrying about making your character cartoonishly evil, but the Fire Nation is currently a deeply nationalistic empire trying to control the world. Where is the deep-seated belief that they are better than other people, not just trying to bring balance to the world? There is a line between creating complexity and toning down the very real evil inherent in this plan.

Roku: I can only say what the fuck was that. He was barely there, and not the serious master to Aang's youthful exuberance.

The Ugly

Show, Don't Tell: The show's single biggest issue seems to be speeding through story parts by simply stating things. Instead of allowing the audience to discover, trusting that we are smart enough to understand, let's just blatantly say things like Zuko is the only reason the 41st division is alive to their faces. Even though in the context of the story Ozai literally already said that.... it's the division, the division for Zuko, Zuko's division.

Thematic Misunderstandings: I think this show makes several minor changes with major implications, such as airbenders actively fighting the firebenders, when airbenders are known for their pacifist nature and the lie of an Airbender fighting force is actively propaganda. Similarly, Aang very quickly accepts his role as the avatar and doesn't even run away in the beginning. Without this conflict between his desire to be a carefree child and the fact that the world needs him - the show loses a key aspect of Aang's character. Also, the obsession with downplaying the avatar state as something dangerous feels like a disservice to the tradition, connection, and strength of the avatar, which can be permanently destroyed as the trade-off for that kind of power. It's dangerous for the balance of the entire world, not just because it's powerful!

The Agni Kai: Zuko's fight against his father is one of the defining moments of Ozai's cruelty, not just because he is willing to fight his child, but because Zuko tried to do everything right. Zuko shows deference to his father, apologizes, and most importantly refuses to fight! The determination not to upset his father and still be grievously injured and banished is a hugely important theme for the fire nation and Zuko's life as a whole. He tries to do everything he is supposed to and only regains his father's acceptance after he "kills" Aang. Zuko's struggle between moral vs. social right and wrong in contrast to his family is hugely important to his character.

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TLDR: ATLA was a fantastical animated television show that was never afraid to show character development and flaws. When you turn 20 episodes into 8, you are bound to lose something. You hollowed out the middle, leaving the shell of important moments and events without ever wondering if all the times in between formed the true spirit of the show.

Rating: 6.5/10 It's perfectly fine and worth a watch. Not a disaster, but certainly falls flat of the original.