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wholoveseggs · 2 months

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Mine

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Part Two

Rebekah talks some sense into you and you aim to repair your relationship with Elijah.

♡♡ Thanks for the request sweet @amournoir ♡♡

3.5k words - Warnings: smutttt, oral, riding, slight dom!elijah, Rebekah playing matchmaker, sprinkling of anal & a birthday boy gets his wishes...

You took a long shower, washing off the sex and party, hoping to scrub your sins away, but it didn't. It only made the marks Klaus left on your body more obvious.

You quickly dried off, throwing your hair into a ponytail and wrapping yourself in a blanket as you walked to the kitchen, not expecting to see Rebekah there, making tea.

"How was your night? I lost you towards the end," she smirked, obviously knowing where you ended up and what you did.

"Oh you know, it was good," you shrugged, grabbing your cereal.

"Good, huh," Rebekah mused, looking over at you.

You shrugged again, your cheeks warming as you refused to make eye contact with her. She giggled knowingly and went to pour the water in her mug, turning her back to you.

"I warned you about Nik," she teased you, and you groaned.

"I know," you huffed, looking down into your cereal, and swirling it around with your spoon. "I made a huge mistake, but please don't tell him I said that,"

She looked over at you and nodded, and then her eyes drifted over you as she smirked, and you suddenly realized your marks were very visible on your skin. You covered yourself up with your blanket, making Rebekah laugh loudly.

"You know, it surprised me that you went with Nik instead of Elijah," Rebekah teased you as she blew on her tea to cool it down.

"Elijah? He's not interested in me, not in that way," you chuckled, but you were frowning internally. He wasn't, was he?

You'd thought of it before, but then quickly dismissed it as just some stupid fantasy in your head, something that could never happen.

"Just make a move, he's far too reserved," Rebekah advised you, bringing her mug up to her lips.

"He's not," you defended him. "Besides, he's only seen me as a friend and I don't want to ruin our friendship. He's really important to me,"

"He's been in love with you since the day he met you," Rebekah rolled her eyes, shaking her head in disapproval at your answer. "Nik said the same thing," she muttered under her breath, and you barely caught it.

"Nik knew?!" You exclaimed, of course Nik knew and he slept with you anyway. He was such an ass.

Rebekah just nodded, taking a sip of her tea and looking anywhere but at you. You sighed, leaning back in your chair as you tried to process this new information.

"I fucked up," you groaned, rubbing a hand over your face.

"You're telling me," Rebekah chuckled in agreement, and you shot her a glare.

You got up from the table, tossing your empty bowl in the sink. You could feel the guilt weighing heavily on your shoulders, and the knowledge that Klaus knew about Elijah's feelings didn't help matters.

"What should I do?" You asked, unsure.

"Tell Elijah how you feel. Ignore Klaus," she shrugged as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

"You're right. I'll tell him when I see him tomorrow," you stated, the plan solidifying in your mind.

Rebekah smiled, "Good. Now come take some of my blood so those marks will heal, it looks atrocious darling,”

A few hours before you were to meet up with Elijah, you snuck into the compound. With Rebekahs help, you knew no one would be home and you could put your plan into action.

You went to Elijah's room, laying out a few more birthday gifts you bought him and decorating the space. You lit a few candles and had some music playing softly. Your nerves were going haywire and you felt like your heart was beating out of your chest. You paced around the room, trying to calm your nerves and keep from backing out.

You went to his bathroom to add the finishing touches to his final present, you. You put on some lingerie, sheer, lace and leaving nothing to the imagination. You added some thigh high stockings, clipping them on with a garter belt.

You took a deep breath and looked in the mirror, trying to stay confident. You were going to go through with this. He would like this, right?

You went out into the bedroom, pulling a robe over yourself and sitting on his bed, nervously fiddling with your hands as you waited. You tried to sit in a sexy position, but every pose felt unnatural.

Finally, after a few agonizing minutes, you heard his footsteps. Thanks to Rebekah you knew Klaus would be away for the evening, which meant you had the place all to yourself.

The look on his face when he walked in was worth it. He paused in the doorway, his eyes widening as they swept over the room. He took a moment before his gaze found yours, and his expression turned soft, a small smile forming.

"I hope you don't mind but I got some more gifts for you," you spoke quietly, feeling your confidence slipping away the longer he stared at you.

You had rendered him speechless, which was not something that happened very often, and that made you feel a bit better.

He slowly walked in, closing the door behind him and setting his things on the desk in the corner. He didn't say anything else and just watched you. You felt like prey being stalked by its predator, the anticipation was killing you.

"I thought we could celebrate alone," you murmured, feeling your cheeks heat up. "Do you like it?" You added, getting off the bed and gesturing around the room.

His eyes never left you, trailing up your legs to the hem of your robe, then to your face. He seemed to be deciding what to do next.

"Yes, very much so," he answered, his eyes still dark, his breathing a little deeper.

"I have one more gift," you said softly, trying to keep your breathing steady. "But you have to close your eyes,"

He hesitated, but complied. He closed his eyes, and you walked closer to him, reaching out to take his hand. You guided him to the bed, and he sat down.

"Keep them closed," you told him, and he did.

You removed your robe, letting it fall to the floor. You stood there, waiting for a few seconds, and then you got up the courage and climbed onto his lap.

He hummed, his hands resting on your waist, he could feel that you weren't wearing much, but he kept his eyes closed.

"You can open them," you whispered.

He opened them slowly, and when his eyes met yours, his pupils were blown wide. You had never seen him look at anyone that way before.

"Happy birthday," you blushed, giving him a shy smile.

He was still silent as his eyes roamed your body. A part of you began to panic at his reaction, were you wrong in thinking he wanted you in this way?

Then he gripped your hips tighter, a smirk playing on his lips.

"Am I being granted a birthday wish?" His voice was darker, just a hint of seduction mixed in.

You looked away from him, blushing even harder, and mumbling a yes.

He pressed his lips to yours and it felt like sparks exploded all around you, the feeling was indescribable. The kiss was desperate and needy and full of so many hidden emotions, all brought out in the space of a minute.

You clutched at his shirt, gasping into his mouth and moaning softly. This is what you'd always wanted, what you needed. He could give it to you, he always could.

"How long have you wanted this, sweetheart?" Elijah asked, a jolt of heat racing through your veins at the tone of his voice.

"Years," you whispered against his lips, it was all you were able to get out before he was kissing you again.

One of his hands came up to tangle in your hair, pulling lightly and tilting your head to deepen the kiss. You moaned into his mouth, panting and whimpering as he got more and more aggressive and rough.

He snaked a hand down between your legs, pushing aside your panties and finding you wet. He hummed in approval, and you pulled away from his lips, letting out a soft cry when his fingers slipped inside you.

He teased you, not giving you enough pressure where you needed it most. It was slow and you squirmed, wanting him to give you more.

He sensed your frustration and smiled, "I can do whatever I want with my present, be a good girl now," he whispered, making you whine and blush more.

You were surprised by how dirty Elijah was being and what turned you on even more, was knowing you would be the only one to see this side of him.

"Yeah, I'll be good," you huffed, pouting a bit. You really wanted him to fuck you.

"I'd like to unwrap my gift now," he was smirking at your frustration and then unclasped your bra, tossing it aside. He held you firmly in is his lap as he looked you over.

You felt shy and exposed as his eyes studied your body, his hands coming up to touch the soft flesh of your breasts, squeezing and then rolling your nipples between his fingers, until they were stiff and aching. He gave you a wicked smile as he licked at one, feeling you tremble beneath him.

He pulled you up further on his thighs, so your chest was level with his mouth.

You had no time to process what was happening before he had his lips wrapped around one of your nipples, nipping lightly and licking, while his hand tweaked the other one. He repeated this action with both of your breasts, as you arched your back, whining his name and pleading for him to give you more. You enjoyed the light tease, but if he didn't fuck you soon you were going to lose it.

He pulled back and let you undue his belt, tugging his pants down just enough to free his cock. He was still fully dressed, while you only had your panties and stockings on. His cock sprang up, and you reached down between the two of you to wrap a hand around him, stroking gently.

His hands gripped your ass and lifted you up, lowering you down on his cock. Your eyes locked and a whimper left your throat, the stretch was delicious and felt so good.

When you were seated fully on him, you both took a moment to breathe. The connection between you felt new and deep and unlike anything you'd ever felt before. It was terrifying and thrilling all at once and you were desperate to have more. You wanted to be consumed by him, it was the only thing you knew would sate the intensity you were feeling.

His dark eyes conveyed the same feelings and he began lifting you up and down. Your hands finding purchase on his shoulders as he controlled your movements. He was using you as he pleased, and you didn't mind one bit.

The sound of slapping flesh filled the room, and it sounded obscene. Your mind clouded with lust and emotion. His lips on your neck, sucking and biting, he let his fangs graze your skin to feel your pulse under them.

"Making such a mess on my cock," he murmured against your neck, smirking at how wet you were. You were so embarrassed by how he was talking to you, you shouldn't have liked it, but God it was making you wetter and you could feel his pants getting damp from your cum. You were mortified.

This only made him grin wider, licking a stripe up your neck and then sucking bruises across your neck and chest. He watched your face contort with pleasure as his grip on you got tighter and he thrusted up into you.

"I'm going to claim every part of you, so when Niklaus sees you, he'll know he failed," Elijah's voice was stern, but the growl behind it made you shiver.

Just when you are about to hit your peak he flipped you onto the bed, keeping your bodies connected. He pressed himself against you, fucking into you deep and slow, his breath hot in your ear, praising you for being so good for him.

You felt your climax hit you hard, crying out his name and clawing at his shirt. Elijah drank up the sight of you beneath him, your pupils blown and your body trembling through your high.

He was still buried inside you, and he stilled for a moment, staring down at you with an expression of awe and affection. It made you flush under his gaze, unable to maintain eye contact for long.

He reached between your bodies, rubbing your swollen clit to push you over the edge again, catching your lips in his so he could swallow your moans, smiling against you.

"So beautiful," he breathed against your lips, kissing you once more before pulling out. He seemed unconcerned with chasing his own release, instead focusing on you.

You tugged at his shirt, desperate to feel his skin against yours, he pulled it off quickly and then his lips found yours again.

His hand moved down to your thigh, his fingers dancing over the lace material of your stockings. He broke the kiss, his lips going down to your neck, his fingers finding the clasp on the one of stockings, unclipping it with a snap.

He hummed and moved down your body, his lips pressing kisses over your collarbone and down the valley of your breasts. He unclipped the other one, and his mouth went down your stomach. He pulled the panties off you with his teeth, smirking as he went, then looking up at you.

You were sweating a little, your hair a mess and you were panting. He'd done a number on you already and it made him ache, knowing no one had ever seen you like this. Only him.

He leaned in and tasted you, his tongue lapping up the slick from your previous orgasms. You were over sensitive and tried to close your legs, but he held them open, sucking and licking, rubbing your clit in gentle circles.

You were close to coming again and then he pushed one of his fingers into your ass, making you gasp and squirm.

"Eli!" You breathed his name, blushing. You had never had anyone do this before, and it sent a strange thrill through your body.

He removed his mouth and looked up at you, moving back up to hold your gaze, "I want to have all of you," he explained and waited, not wanting to pressure you into anything.

"You can, but no one's ever..." you trailed off, squirming under him, suddenly too embarrassed to look at him anymore.

He squeezed your ass, pulling your thigh up over his hip as he moved beside you. He brought his lips to yours in a soft kiss, distracting you as he moved his hands down to your ass. He began massaging the flesh, spreading your cheeks and a finger breached the entrance to your ass slowly.

"Relax," he whispered against your lips, his free hand gripping your hair and tugging it. You mewled and he kissed you harder. He swallowed your whimpers, his thumb pressing against your clit and his fingers pushing into both your holes.

He stayed gentle, knowing it was a little different than vaginal sex. You did like it, the unfamiliar pleasure warming your belly.

He stretched and worked your body slowly, trying to relax you. Your lips were puffy and your eyes were hooded as he continued, sliding a second finger into your ass, stretching you. He listened to your erratic heartbeat as you watched him.

"You okay, sweetheart?" He asked softly, rubbing your clit with a little more pressure to distract you.

Your nails were digging into his chest, your mind foggy with a daze of pleasure, nodding your head. His lips were feather light against your neck, and he smiled, noticing how flushed and turned on you were.

"Are you ready my love?" Elijah's voice was soothing and had no pressure behind it, which only made your love for him grow even stronger.

"Yes," your voice was breathless and pleading, you needed this, needed him, needed to be closer and to share this experience with him. He was the only one you trusted to give yourself to him.

He rolled you onto your back, pushing your thighs up and nudging your knees apart. He spent a few moments drinking in the sight of you beneath him, his eyes skimming over every inch of your body with reverence.

His thumb played with your clit as he prepared his cock. Your arousal coated his fingers and he spread it along his length, slicking his cock up. He got into position and started to push into your tight hole.

"Look at me," he said softly as he hovered over you, continuing the process of taking you slowly.

You did as he commanded, eyes locking as he moved inside you. You clung to his arms, panting at the sudden stretch. He pushed in another few inches, watching your face carefully, listening to the reactions your body gave.

"It's okay," he assured you, rubbing your clit with his thumb and pushing the rest of the way in.

You squirmed and mewled, but he stilled, letting you adjust before he began to move. Slowly rocking his hips, easing in and out, hissing and biting his lip at how impossibly tight you were.

He pushed your legs up further and eased two fingers inside your pussy, pushing in and out slowly and timing it with his thrusts.

He worked you up, moving slow and deep, filling you up. You were a whimpering mess and looked so beautiful to him, the sight of you and the feeling of you completely submitting to him was intoxicating.

You couldn't speak, the pleasure overwhelming, your hand reaching out to cup his cheek, and he turned his head to kiss your palm.

He leaned down and claimed your lips in a soft kiss, his hips moving just a little faster, rocking deeper inside you, touching every part of you and making you his.

His fingers in your pussy were moving just right, brushing against that spot inside you. His kisses grew sloppy, with you panting into each other's mouths and struggling to breath through the pleasure.

"Eli..." you gasped, shaking beneath him, knowing you were close. He was starting to fall over the edge with you, pushing you both towards oblivion.

He pounded into you, rolling his hips harder and faster, making you moan louder. Then everything snapped, you back arching, your mouth open in a silent scream of pure bliss.

Your pussy clamped down around his fingers and your ass squeezed his cock, and he let out a low groan, grinding deep into you as he came.

He found your lips again in a sweet kiss, brushing your sweaty hair back and keeping the both of you connected for a few moments longer. When you had come down from your high he slowly slid out of you, keeping an arm around you as you turned onto your side to cuddle against him.

The both of you just kept kissing, holding each other close, not wanting the moment to end.

He reached down and pulled the comforter over the both of you, tucking it around you. Elijah kissed the top of your head as he held you in his arms, his hands sliding all over your body, mapping it out in his head.

"Happy Birthday, Eli," you whispered softly, your cheek pressed to his shoulder.

His heart swelled and he smiled, his hold tightening on you, he loved hearing you call him that.

"Can I have another birthday wish?" he asked softly, running his hands over your body, holding you in a way that was almost possessive.

"Of course," you flushed with excitement as you waited to see what he was going to ask.

"Will you be mine?" He asked, holding your gaze and looking uncharacteristically nervous for a moment.

You were so overwhelmed by his request, but it only took you a moment to respond, "I am already, Eli, I've been yours for a long time," you assured him, and the words made him let out a breath he didn't know he was holding.

"I love you," he said, saying the words he never thought he'd say, feeling so much lighter now that he said them, and finally knowing what it meant to be with you.

"I love you, too," you felt a bit shy but couldn't hide the emotion in your voice.

He was relieved, burying his head in the crook of your neck.

You smile and laugh softly, running your fingers through his hair, massaging his scalp. He mumbles some incoherent words into your neck and you love the sound.

It felt good to be with him, like it was always meant to be.

♡♡ Tag-List ♡♡

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blueparadis · 1 year

Note

a concept:

tattoo artist kaeya having a thing for u, his regular client rosaria's cute little roommate, who is the exact opposite of her. he feels bad for touching himself to the thoughts of u but he can't help himself bc he likes u so much

❝ INKED SECRETS ❞ + KAEYA ALBERICH !

+. CWs —» tattoo artist au + modern au, f!reader, fluff, light angst with comfort, some canon elements, love at first sight, mention of cigarette smoking, bad relationships, hookups, stranger to lovers, smut ( fantasies, m-mastarbation ) ; word count — 2k.

+. NOTES —» thanks to my beloved yoru ( @anantaru) for helping me and beta reading this otherwise i would've opened the gates of kaeya-brainrot; also, thank you for being patient. This ask was almost a month old and I know this was supposed to be short but the thing is kaeya is the one who had me invested in genshin impact. However, surprisingly I've never thought of writing about him so thank you for your muse. I loved writing this so fucking much. Thank you. Tattoo artist kaeya shall live forever in my mind. If you wanna check more of my writings, click here.

Kaeya Alberich. The name of the mystery man who would always be the talk of the topic for Rosaria. He was more familiar to you than your roommate ever was. You two shared a room yet you could never read Rosaria but she was thorough with you; maybe that is why you two clicked. Every one of your friends considered it a mystery how a sunflower like you would ever survive in the company of a moon. Everyone including Kaeya. He had his own proportion of confusion every time Rosaria talked about you.

Kaeya knew how you looked, talked, and liked to eat ice cream in winter. Not only that, your favorite colors, bits and pieces of your small dreams were known to him. And all because Rosaria wouldn’t stop with the constant blabbering about you whenever he directly hung out with her, emphasizing the fact that you were nothing but an angel in disguise. Kaeya had to endure all of it, every bit of you that Rosaria seemed to find alluring. At moments like this, one could say that they exchanged personas since Kaeya was a guy of smiles and chitter-chatter while Rosaria was quite the opposite.

True, the friendship between Kaeya and Rosaria was another talk of Mondstadt’s inhabitants, but they both did not seem to react as people expected, as people thought they should. You would, barely, call them lovers. While Kaeya enjoyed different takes of his customers about Rosaria, she, on the other hand, brushed those petty rumors off, with just a glance keeping her stoic persona.

But, among all these happenings, Rosaria had the front-row seat of the chaos that was about to unfold. She had her beauty salon just above Kaeya’s tattoo parlor. They have been working together for at least five years. Rosaria had her shop on rental and the five-storied complex was owned by none other than Kaeya Alberich himself.

Anyone who wanted to go to her parlor had to cross Kaeya’s floor; hence, no one slipped past the grip of his galactic eyes. He knew the regulars of her shop and had an immense influence on them. He believed it was his charms while Rosaria begged to differ.

But she was just being professional, clearing non-financial tabs that she owed to him, for bringing the immense influx of customers to her salon. Sometimes, it worked both ways, but whenever they fought, the elders of the locality had more spice to flavor the rumors that had just started sedimenting.

January, the prime of winter, of snow and the freezing cold, Kaeya laid his first glance at you. Warm and alluring: you were every bit of beauty that Rosaria spoke of, in fact, now that he had finally seen you in person, he thinks Rosaria fell short of speaking of your angelic aura.

“Hello, I have a parcel for Rosaria, could you please deliver it to her? I would have done it myself if I wasn’t in such a hurry.”, you kept the package on my desk, “Thank you very much, Mister . . .”, you looked at his batch that reads Kaeya Alberich, “. . . Thank you so much, Mister Kaeya Alberich.” And before Kaeya could say anything back, you fled out of his sight like a bird.

He watched you get into a cab holding the package in his hand, barely registering what you asked him to do. His mind had drifted far off to all those times when Rosaria was talking about you. He checked his watch and smiled to himself. Oops! Rosaria’s smoke break was ruined since he joined in with the package you had left for her, with many questions.

For a tattoo artist, Kaeya seemed the least bit invested in its antics, yet he had a steady influx of customers, mostly because he is very professional and dedicated to his livelihood. He pays special attention to his regular customers, sadly, you weren’t one of them, not yet.

Still, he would stand and smoke at the corner of the entrance so that he could watch you go like the wind to meet your roommate with a package in hand. He would notice the color of your dress, the matching nails, shoes, and every little detail thinking how flawlessly sexy you looked.

But he abruptly stopped the second he had bruised his fingers with the cigarette burn. Fortunately, it was his left hand but with his line of work, he needed both.

Today, during the lunch break when Rosaria told him that y/n wanted to have a tattoo, his blood rushed to his cheeks and ears. He did not think you’d be interested in tattoos or piercings. He definitely did not see the next blow coming. “Yep. sure.”, he supplied, coughing back the lump in his throat. Of all the parlors you could choose you had to choose his. What in the lord’s fuck was going on?

The day came faster, faster than he had anticipated. Needless to say, it did not go like he thought it would. It was safe to say he was more nervous than you were. “Are you sure about this?”, “Ya’know it’s gonna hurt, right?”, “Should I use some anesthetic on the area?” His questions wouldn’t stop and you were trying your best to stay as patient as possible It is true, part of him was nervous but another wanted to spend and enjoy some time with you.

“And done!”, Kaeya playfully mused as he wiped over the work of ink, careful enough not to accidentally graze his fingers over your inner thigh but of course, he did want to.“y/n” he spoke, his tone low but clear enough for you to hear, “so, how many tattoos do you have now?” Kaeya shifted in his chair as he intently watched you normalize your heightened breathing

“Didn’t you keep count?”,

“nine”, he said, letting out a breathless laugh. “which means you dumped your ninth partner.” and he was not wrong. Of all the regular customers he had, you were his favorite because you had an amusing story to tell whenever you had visited his parlor. He would listen to you the moment he was finished with his handiwork.

But this one in particular, was quite a different story. You never told nor was he allowed to ask about the guy you dumped, ever. Part of him wanted to console you, and tell you that good things take time but another part of him was too afraid to lose you, realizing it was unprofessional of him to offer any form of painkiller against a situation like that. Because on any other occasion, his usual customers weren’t as chatty as you were.

He never thought of a case where it might be the opposite. With that, he thought that you, of all people, being dumped by someone was utterly ridiculous, because who wouldn't want to date someone like you? He knows he would, after all, and if he could, he would make sure the ninth tattoo is to be the last tattoo on your body.

“What about you?”, you asked, swinging your legs in the air while sitting on the bed. “For a tattoo artist, you are awfully blank.”

“It’s somewhere. . .”, he started, “wait I’ll rather show you . . .”. and when you, in a sliding second, unexpectedly flashed him, his hands immediately found their way crawling at the hem of his turtle-neck.

“Wait. wait. Wait. stop. Just stop.” kaeya panicked as you partly opened your eyes. He crossed his arms over his chest while your eyebrows jumped and stayed intact for seconds. Pin-drop silence and then both of you simultaneously laughed. Some might think it’s corny, and maybe you did as well but it doesn’t matter, what matters is that you were smiling right now.

That’s good. That’s really good.

Kaeya checked his watch as you left his place to run upstairs, checking to see if Rosaria was done with her chores; after all, she was almost approaching the closing hour of her shop so she should’ve been done by the time you had arrived at her place. Fifteen minutes, fifteen minutes before you and Rosaria would come out of the elevator to go home; maybe he could if he’d finally stop thinking about it in such an unhealthy calculative manner.

Yet, well, there was just one problem. His ears felt hot, his mind was restless and he couldn't focus on a single task. Generally, it took ten minutes to close his shop and he does it every day, all alone so if not his mind, his muscle memory should be functioning properly. But all he desired to do was to touch himself and relieve himself from the agony of months boiling in his core.

June, the prime time of summer and ice cream. Kaeya slides his right arm under his vest while grazing his lower belly, eagerly thinking of the last time, but eventually, his arm ends up slipping into his pants, his fingers clamping around his length, and finally, a soft groan escapes from his mouth. The tip of his tongue kisses the corner of his lips as he takes out his cock which was coated with warm white fluid, at the tip pre-cum.

For a moment, he is surprised, and then he suddenly is not. There is a crescent formed along his lips as he taps the tip of his cock, smearing the reddened end with its pre. “Oh fuck. This feels so much better.”, he groans, mumbling to himself, thinking why he didn’t do this way sooner.

He palms his member, a little harder, this time trying to imagine how it would feel to be sheathed by your gummy walls. He started to pump his cock as his pants slipped, now clustered at the bottom of the chair while his legs were trying to give as much space as possible by spreading them further apart.

With half-lidded eyes, he checks if you had locked the door before leaving or not. You did not and the thought of you walking onto him turned him so bad that he thought he might cum right away.

The moment he closes his eyes he could see you, your calloused fingers around his cock and now he is pumping his cock rashly, the hem of his vest being buried in between his teeth, muffled moans escaping his mouth as the squelching noises had gotten louder and louder.

His other hand gradually made its way towards his nipples, pinching and circling around them thinking of your lips instead. “Oh fuck.”, he hisses as his toes curl, his hips bucked up with a force as he thinks of how euphoric it would be to have your soft lips wrapped around his cock, to have your puffy lips on his, to have your boobs tightly pressed against his bare chest, pronounced nipples grazing against each other while Kaeya’s cock is hitting your sweet spot with precision, blessing his ears with the prettiest desperate moans from you.

He squeezes his eyes shut as his hands move up and down his swollen cock, hitting his girth with calculated thrusts. He paces up as he feels his orgasm approaching, huffing and panting, not caring how vocal he has become until the coil at the core of his flat belly snaps, making him dizzy, his hand movements sloppy, and his inner thighs gradually closing, relishing in the high he had just experienced.

Kaeya’s chest rises up and down frantically as he finally opens his eyes, watching the spurs of milky white fluid all over the floor and his study desk. A heavy sigh leaves his body as his breathing normalizes. “Fuck . . .”, he mumbles throwing back his head before closing his eyes and thinking of you, again. He takes a few deep breaths to relax before cleaning the mess.

Yet, when he suddenly heard the footsteps, his heart sank. He regrets touching himself while thinking of you, he regrets not saving himself for you, he regrets chasing love so fast, so insanely that he almost lost his hope for finding the one.

“Hey Kae-ya, you done?”, you asked, opening the door, “Rosa is gonna be late today. So, I’ll stay and help her. I’m going out to buy some food, you wanna come with me?” You let your exhausted body lean against the door frame while Kaeya remained silent.

It just made him crazy how blatantly you ignored him, his magnetic affection for you, and the truth was, he cannot even blame you for that. He has always enjoyed this feeling, to like you in secrecy. The more you are unaware of his emotions, the greater chance he has to be around you. Kaeya does not ask for much, just a few more days till he musters up enough courage to finally ask you out.

—

@tokyometronetwork

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jessamine-rose · 2 years

Text

꧁⪡ Alea Iacta Est ⪢꧂

Aaahh so here is part 2 of Housecat!! This continuation is written from Pantalone’s POV and features much darker content. Read the first fic before you proceed :>

Once again, thank you to @bye-bye-sunbird and @ddarker-dreams for the inspiration!! Same goes to @diodellet for your entertaining peer review and @yandere-romanticaa for your interest in reading this (*´∇｀*)

Tw:: YANDERE, unhealthy relationships, manipulation, coercion, electrocution, offscreen death, psychological damage, Dottore is here, mention of drugging, mention of nsfw, dubcon, spice, MINORS DNI

Note:: Female cat-hybrid reader, pre-release Pantalone based on current lore crumbs

♡ 5.5k words under the cut ♡

i. the red string of fate

Love is nothing more than a contract.

The Regrator, of all people, is well aware of this fact. Love is an agreement easily forged and broken, an attraction founded on set conditions and self-serving fantasies. In a world of inequity, it is impossible for any relationship to be purely selfless nor unconditional.

The illusion of love persists, however, supported by centuries of myths. Soulmates. Star-crossed lovers. The red string of fate spun by the will of the gods.

How romantic.

Many would claim that Pantalone’s feelings are anything but love. They would dub him greedy, ambitious, obsessed, possessive, and so many other negative traits which ironically constitute the true essence of love. What he finds most insufferable are the claims that his efforts are futile against destiny.

If the gods deem him unworthy of love, he will pursue it on his own volition.

If the red string of fate ties his beloved to another, he will sever the threads and bind her to him with his own chains.

If his precious jewel rejects her owner, he will ruin her until she finally accepts her place in the world.

⬩◈⬩

Since her horrific revelation, his darling has become an amusing juxtaposition of obedience and defiance.

“What do you think of the present, my darling? Isn’t it a perfect fit?”

Pantalone clasps the jewelry around her neck. ______ blankly stares at her reflection.

The necklace is a simple accompaniment to her collar. The silver bell pendant makes soft tinkling noises with every little movement.

Its luster cannot compare to his darling’s tears.

“It’s…minimalist,” she answers. Her ears fold back. “But the bell is in poor taste. Do you expect me to wear this at all times?”

Pantalone smiles at her in the mirror.

“You wound me. And you are normally so enamored with my choices,” he replies. His hands rest on her shoulders. “The collar is already a perfect statement piece on its own.”

Zero wounds from the Electro Crystals. Sandrone’s craftsmanship is commendable.

Her tail relaxes. The violet bow is slightly askew; she must have been extra agitated today. Pantalone unravels it and reties the ribbon.

His hand brushes against her Vision. ______ immediately covers it with her own.

“You should get back to work,” she tells him. “I saw the reports on your desk earlier. What would the Tsaritsa say if she knew you were wasting your time on me?”

How foolish of her to bring up Her Majesty’s name.

“Matters of the heart do not concern Her Majesty so long as my work is unaffected. I can assure you that I am perfectly capable of separating my private and professional lives.”

His hand wraps around her tail. His grip is light but he can already feel the soft fur standing on edge.

“You know, it has been a while since I last saw you use your Vision,” he muses. “I’ve been waiting for a chance to watch your enchanting display again.”

“...All right.” His darling stares at her collar this time. “If that is what you want.”

Her hands are shaking. The sparks and red threads are thinner than usual.

Her fire is such a pretty spectacle. But it can only be viewed from a distance, a beacon of hope untouchable to its audience.

“There is no need to hold back, my love.” Pantalone waits for the fire to extinguish before he wipes her tears with his handkerchief. His other hand taps her collar. “You will only get shocked if you abuse your Vision. You won’t do that again, will you?”

She does not look at him. Recalling her previous attempts, most likely.

“I won’t. The last thing I need is to wake up to another one of your lectures.”

There is a bitter edge to her voice. Her tail slips out of his grasp and knocks over the empty necklace box.

He pats her head, smiling. “What a well-behaved pet. If I finish work early, I can take you to the shopping district tomorrow. We haven’t gone out in weeks.”

“I see. Do keep track of my purchases. I might just exceed my allowance.”

With that, ______ takes off the necklace and leaves the vanity table. She makes a point to push her unused shackles onto Pantalone’s side of the bed.

Despite her denial, she truly does act like a housecat at times.

As petty as she has become, his darling is making the most out of her cage. A pampered pet can never hope to gain the self-sufficiency of a stray. Any escape attempts would only bring her back to her owner.

Pantalone returns the necklace to its box, humming an old tune from Liyue. ______ covers her ears with the pillow.

Her neediness is sorely missed, however. He could easily demand her affection through more threats and gifts, but that would not be enough to satisfy his greed.

He would rather have her seek him out willingly.

ii. fool’s gold

A formal invitation announces a grand ball held in the capital of Snezhnaya. Another opportunity for the Regrator to make new business connections and to show off his darling wife.

“There should be a limit to the number of times I wear your colors,” she tells him. “By now, they likely view me as your little dress-up doll.”

“You are overthinking this.” Pantalone fastens the final accessory and fluffs up her tail. “We would not be the first couple to wear coordinated outfits. And think of it this way: An object takes after its master.”

He stands beside her in front of the mirror. They are only wearing matching jewelry this time. The violet jewels twinkle like artificial stars against their dark clothing.

______ frowns. “This necklace is too ostentatious, wouldn’t you say?”

Ungrateful pet.

“My priceless treasure,” he replies, the smile leaving his face, “you would do well to appreciate one’s generosity.”

A necklace of this price could feed so many empty stomachs in Liyue.

He grips the chain, allowing the jewels to press against her throat, and glares at her in the mirror.

“I’m sorry!” she says quickly. Her hands move to her neck in a futile attempt to relieve the pressure. “It must have been expensive. The…the design simply isn’t my type.”

“It is either this necklace or your collar, ______. Or are you secretly impartial to showing off my marks to the world?”

His other hand touches the love bites dotting her neck and chest. He had chosen an off-shoulder gown and an elaborate festoon necklace for that reason.

She averts her gaze. “...No, I’ll go with the first option.”

He lets go of the chain and readjusts the necklace.

His darling grips her tail with both hands. Her nails are newly trimmed and manicured after their last night of intimacy. Pantalone’s back is still healing from her scratch marks.

Even when he was kind enough to pleasure her, his darling took the opportunity to spite him. He had to use the shackles for their remaining rounds and her declawing session.

He adjusts her Vision this time. “I trust that you won’t cause a scene.”

“Of course.” She turns around and gives him a false smile. “This was part of our marriage contract, after all. I will assume the role of a loving wife for my sake.”

That is all. No clauses requiring loyalty or affection.

Pantalone’s smile is equally deceptive. “Stand by your promise. I will keep a close eye on you.”

⬩◈⬩

The ball is a waste of time—just the usual congregation of humorless businessmen, proud aristocrats, and annoying social climbers. The gilded superficiality of high society is no longer an otherworldly realm to the Regrator, but he is still grateful to have a companion.

It is more enjoyable when his darling is clinging to him like a frightful pet.

“My dear, you don’t need to stick to my side all night.” He shakes her tail off his wrist, smiling. “Are you that afraid of losing me in the crowd?”

“I’m not,” she whispers. Her hand grips his arm. “I don’t know anyone. They will just rope me into some meaningless conversation and gossip about ‘the Regrator’s trophy wife’ later on.”

They are nothing more than a crowd of foolish sycophants. But his darling is no different from them. If not for his riches, Pantalone is certain that she never would have spared him a glance.

Another admirer greets them and initiates a long speech about their loyalty to the Tsaritsa—a desperate farce before a Harbinger of all people. ______ smiles and nods along.

Well, the same may be said for his own attraction. He could have been apathetic to his darling’s existence had he not glimpsed her at the Shang family’s gala. She had looked so reserved, so pristine, until he came close enough to notice her cracks. Until he decided that he would be the one to break her.

The orchestra begins playing a lively symphony. The guests disperse to the dance floor and the edges of the ballroom.

“Would you care to dance?”

His darling’s thinly-veiled desperation is truly entertaining, especially as her gaze darts to the still-blabbering admirer.

He takes her hand, smiling. “Of course, my love.”

iii. odi et amo

Another letter is intercepted from Liyue.

Pantalone dismisses the messenger and opens the envelope. The letter is from his sister-in-law this time. Less valuable information, then.

It is just the usual family update, sans the necessary details which his darling would like to know. It ends with a sermon about marital conduct and the importance of “not being a nuisance to the Regrator.”

He smiles at the last line. The Lai family must have been quite shaken after the visit of the last Pyro Agent. Their previous letters are written in a similar fashion, all formal lectures with no ounce of concern for their little ______.

Had they met years ago, he would have envied his darling to the point of hatred. But now he can only feel pity for her.

Unfair as the world may be, there will always be certain pros and cons to one’s social status. Competence or inadequacy. Independence or loneliness. Ambition or sorrow.

Another agent knocks on the door.

“You may enter.”

They open the door and kneel. “My lord, your wife is returning to your office. As per your orders, she and her guard were only permitted to roam the eastern wing of Zapolyarny Palace.”

“You are dismissed.”

His darling’s letters are beginning to take up space in his desk. Pantalone adds the missive and locks the drawer.

The Fen wife recently wrote about a charm bracelet which his darling might like. He should add that item to his shopping list.

⬩◈⬩

Another obstacle to the Fatui brings extra work hours.

“Are you almost done? It’s late.”

Pantalone opens a new document. “I still have mountains of paperwork to go through. If you are tired, you may go to bed without me.”

The Northland Bank will be flooded with blood as soon as he catches those traitors.

His darling remains on his lap.

“It’s fine. I’m not sleepy yet,” she replies. She points at the stack of unchecked reports. “What are these about, anyway?”

“A few traitors. Some unforeseen interferences. A pesky little Traveler who has proven themselves to be quite the infernal threat.” He takes off his glasses and polishes the lenses.

He is due for another all-nighter.

______ turns her head. “Is there anything I can do to help?”

He gives her a wry look. “You seem awfully concerned about my wellbeing. If you plan to take advantage of my current state, you are better off using subtler tactics.”

Her ears twitch. “You are still my husband. If anything happens to you, my welfare is at stake. I can’t assist you with work but I can at least provide some stress relief.”

Stress relief, huh?

His darling faces forward again. Her ears are pushed back, a clear indication of anger. It is an ineffective warning—they are nothing more than the soft, fluffy traits of a domestic cat.

Pantalone puts his glasses back on and pets her ears.

Her gasp is preceded by soft purrs. “What are you—? Stop! My ears are—”

He laughs, pressing a kiss against the back of her ear. “I know. So sensitive.”

His hand moves to the front of her dress and pulls down the neckline. Her love bites have already faded to near-invisible spots. It is about time for him to renew his marks.

“Pantalone.” She stands up and turns around, tail puffing up. “You still have work.”

“It won’t take long. Besides, was it not you who offered to alleviate my stress?”

He pulls her towards him, forcing her to straddle his lap, and touches the base of her tail.

“But still!” She bites back another purr. “Could we at least do this in the bedroom? The servants are still in the corridor. They might hear us—this is hardly appropriate!”

Until now, she still finds it necessary to retain her modesty. Her debauched noises during the act say otherwise.

It only takes a kiss to shut her up. He cups her face, smiling at every hitched breath and plea for air.

He will never grow tired of tainting her.

“My love,” he murmurs. He breaks off the kiss and presses their foreheads together. “Just think of it as fulfilling the contract you agreed to.”

⬩◈⬩

“Pantalone?”

“Yes?”

“Do you…plan to have children in the future?”

The pen hits the desk. It rolls across the wood, stopping just short of falling off the edge.

This is unexpected.

Pantalone clears his throat. “Can you repeat that?”

For someone who had made such a serious inquiry, his darling refuses to even look at him. She shifts in his lap, staring at his unfinished report.

And to think that he would not be the first to initiate this conversation.

“If this is about the contraceptives, I already told you that we are using a high-quality medication with no side effects. It is my turn to take them, anyway.”

Her tail thumps against his chest. “It’s not about the birth control.”

“Then what is this about? If you remain ambiguous, I may assume that you are asking for children.”

That would be a delightful surprise. Families do make for efficient binding agreements.

“I don’t know if I want that,” she mumbles. Her hands grip the desk. “It’s just…if you have any plans for the future, I want to be prepared for it. I spend enough time idling about and causing trouble for you.”

Not a direct refusal. What an interesting answer.

Thinking about it now, she had broached this topic in the early days of their marriage. Something about her lack of responsibilities and the Fen wife’s maternal duties.

Pantalone picks up his pen and continues writing. “As of now, starting a family is of low priority to me. We may continue this conversation once the Tsaritsa’s perfect world has been achieved.”

And when that happens, he will have all the time in the world to enjoy the fruits of his labor.

Ironically, that statement only makes his darling more agitated.

“I see. I’ll enjoy my last pieces of freedom,” she mutters.

He puts down his pen. “My darling, are you merely bored with your current routine? Or are you looking for an excuse to devote your time to someone other than me?”

At the last statement, she turns to face him.

“Not at all!” she exclaims. Her eyes are wide with panic. “I like your company; I really do! Anyway, I couldn’t possibly treat a child with your degree of care and attention.”

It is good that she knows that.

“That is good to hear.” Pantalone smiles and wraps his arms around her, pressing her back against his chest. “I won’t demand a child or anything else from you. End of discussion.”

“I see…thank you for telling me.”

His darling stares ahead, but the relaxed positions of her ears and tail are a substantial response. He rests his chin on her shoulder.

“Besides,” he adds, “I would rather have you all to myself for the time being.”

iv. faustian bargain

The next few months are relatively peaceful. A pattern of gifts, dances, galas, red threads, intimate nights, banter, and mind games. Pantalone is pleased to note that his darling is gradually becoming more resigned to her cage. She has almost reverted back to her needy, pliable self.

Unfortunately, the gods always choose the best of times to tip the scales.

“I’m home.”

Pantalone has barely closed the door before his darling stomps over to him.

“My necklace is missing,” she informs him.

He pauses, coat in hand. “Which one?”

She leads him to her dressing room without so much of a word.

The farthest corner of the room is reserved for her old accessories. It is a haphazard mess of half-opened drawers and scattered jewelry boxes.

______ opens the topmost drawer and points at the necklace section. There are large, even spaces in between the necklaces.

“Someone rearranged it. My brother’s wedding gift used to be on the far left,” she explains. “It was a gold necklace with a pendant shaped like a Nilotpala lotus.”

Pantalone glances at the boxes on the floor. “Are you sure that you didn’t misplace it?”

“How could I? You don’t let me wear it to begin with,” she snaps, gesturing to her collar. “This isn’t the only one. I can’t find the box holding my Sango pearl necklace.”

A thief in his own estate. What a wonderful surprise.

In their entire marriage, this is his first time seeing his darling in such an incensed state. Aside from her swishing tail and folded back ears, her eyes are filled with enough burning fury to rival his own glare.

“It was you, wasn’t it?”

He raises an eyebrow at her. “My darling, for what reason would I engage in petty theft behind your back? I could easily confiscate your possessions.”

“I don’t know. But I am not trusting the same person who chose what I could bring to Snezhnaya.” She glares at him, eyes filling with tears. “I am fine with wearing your gifts, but is it too much to even look at my old belongings?”

“Wild accusations will do more harm than good,” he shoots back. “Did it not occur to you that someone else could have done it?”

His darling only laughs. “The servants, maybe, but they wouldn’t dare to steal from you. Unless you paid them to do it on your behalf.”

She opens the closet and takes out her coat.

“______.” It takes effort to maintain his composure. “Where are you going?”

“To the gardens. Forgive me for not being able to stand your presence.”

She leaves the dressing room. Pantalone follows her.

He reaches for her hand. “Darling, I—”

“Just go away!”

A burst of flames appears out of thin air, almost grazing him. Pantalone stumbles back, glasses clattering to the floor.

The sound of glass breaking is followed by the shock of Concentrated Overload.

His darling screams and collapses to the floor.

Pantalone takes a step closer. “You shouldn’t—”

“Don’t get any closer!” she shouts. She claws at her collar, tears rolling down her cheeks. “You ruined my life. I wish I never met you!”

Her honesty could not be any more brutal.

Pantalone draws back as though he has been slapped. His darling’s glare remains fiery.

At this point, diplomatic attempts at reconciliation are futile.

He picks up his glasses. The frames are warm from where the fire touched them. The chain is broken and one of the lenses is cracked.

“I do not blame you for your lack of trust in me,” he says coldly. He walks past her and opens the door. “I will give you some space if that is what you truly want.”

More sobs. Pantalone leaves the room and almost crashes into one of the servants.

“Lord Harbinger!” she squeaks. She bows immediately. “I apologize for not seeing you!”

“It is all right,” he replies, trying to keep the irritation out of his voice. He glances at her uniform. “You are one of my wife’s handmaidens. You go by the alias Myshkin, correct?”

“Y…Yes, my lord!”

A glint of silver flashes in her hand.

He frowns at her. “What are you holding? Have you found my wife’s missing jewelry?”

She jumps and averts her gaze. “What? I…yes, I did!”

Her hands are trembling. She opens her palm to reveal a familiar Vajrada Amethyst ring.

That little rat.

Myshkin is speaking a mile a minute. “I found it in the living room and was just about to return it. As soon as I saw it, I knew it must have been the ring Lady ______ was looking for!”

His darling has not worn it once in Snezhnaya. Neither did she mention the disappearance of that ring.

Pantalone takes it, a grateful smile on his face. “Thank you, Myshkin. I will remember this.”

She turns to the door. “Is Lady ______ all right?”

“Just a little shocked. Go tend to her.”

“Yes, my lord!”

Had she entered the room a second later, Myshkin would have witnessed the Regrator’s death glare directed at her.

⬩◈⬩

The Doctor’s office is a place of nightmares. Beyond the laboratory, his section of Zapolyarny Palace is filled with preserved specimens, glowing test tubes, anatomical sketches, and a pervasive aura of malevolence. Even the meeting room is far from welcoming.

“Ninth, I assume you summoned me for another private commission. How is your wife? I believe your wedding anniversary has recently passed.”

“Spare me the formalities, Dottore.” Pantalone takes a seat on the sofa. “I received your request for additional funds. The numbers are out of proportion, but I can overlook that if you throw in a personal favor for me. I believe you will find this commission more suited to your preferences.”

Dottore puts down his test tube and sits across from him. “What do you mean?”

Pantalone gestures to the package on the table.

“I would like you to soak these garments in a flammable substance, one so potent that it would guarantee inescapable death for the wearer once they come into contact with fire. The chemical should have an inconspicuous scent and remain effective after numerous washes.”

“What an interesting request. And who is this unlucky victim?” Dottore opens the box and takes out a set of maid uniforms.

That Myshkin had been stupid enough to steal memorable jewelry. Everyone knows that the wealthy are less likely to notice the disappearance of smaller pieces, moreso if those items are sold to a reasonably far-off pawnshop.

“You are quite literally playing with fire, and it seems that your employee is not the only target. Tell me, is it not easier to deal with them and your darling separately?”

Pantalone straightens his glasses. The new chain twinkles under the dim light.

“Think of it as killing two birds with one stone. It would be uncharacteristic of me to ignore an opportunity when it is presented to me.”

Dottore snickers. “Your poor little housecat. And to think you started out with something as innocent as catnip-laced perfume.”

“That is none of your business. Do we have a deal?”

“Deal.” Dottore sits back, a maniacal grin on his face. “Though I must demand payment. A chemical of this potency will be costly to produce, especially if I am to ensure maximum quality by using test subjects.”

Pantalone clasps his hands together, smiling. “Name your price.”

v. alea iacta est

Pantalone upholds his promise and grants his darling her desired solitude. He moves her to a different bedroom and works longer hours in Zapolyarny Palace. On the rare occasion that they cross paths in the estate, he scarcely acknowledges her.

Myshkin and her fellow handmaiden provide daily reports of ______’s activities and behavior. The former wears her new set of uniforms.

His darling holds on to her pride. She makes no requests for gifts or company. She continues her flimsy pastimes, sans the use of her Vision. She bristles at his silent treatment but makes no effort to approach him.

This is what her life could’ve been like had she married Chairman Jin. If she knows what is good for her, she will not compare that nullified fate to her reality.

The days are longer for Pantalone. The situation reminds him of their former days, that year spent patiently waiting and working behind the scenes and settling for the lightest of touches. But the reward had been worth it.

This time, he must only wait for his darling to come to him.

⬩◈⬩

“Lord Harbinger!”

The door slams open. The agent does not bother to kneel.

Pantalone barely looks up from his contract. “We are in the middle of a meeting. What matter is so important that you must disturb me and my client?”

“It concerns your wife, my lord! An accident has occurred in your household.”

About time.

He faces his client. “My apologies, but I must ask that we resume our negotiations some other time. I am afraid that my wife’s situation seems to be of dire urgency.”

“Naturally! It isn’t a problem.” The diplomat bows and puts away their reports. “Thank you for your time, Lord Harbinger.”

Pantalone leaves the conference room and faces the agent. “Tell me what happened.”

“Your wife attacked a servant with her Pyro Vision. We have already extinguished the fire and summoned a doctor, but her handmaiden is in unstable condition.”

All according to plan. “Are there any additional details which I need to know?”

They pause. “I was not present during the event, but I was told that the incident took place in your wife’s dressing room. She is currently afflicted with her collar’s Concentrated Overload as well as psychological shock.”

He resists the urge to smile. “Anything else?”

“Your wife asked for you, my lord. She specifically requested your presence as the guards were restraining her.”

How endearing.

“Cancel my remaining appointments for the day. That will be all.”

⬩◈⬩

The collateral damage only costs a few hundred thousand Mora. A singed carpet. Scorched closets. The doctor’s fee. The silence of the servants.

Pantalone barely regards the charred corpse in the servant’s quarters. According to the doctor, Myshkin had succumbed to her wounds shortly before his arrival.

In the end, she paid back her debt in blood.

Not a sound can be heard from his darling’s room.

He unlocks the door. Warm light spills into the dark room, highlighting the figure chained to the bed.

His precious jewel has never looked more pitiful. Her ears lay flat against her head and her tail is tucked between her legs. There are tearstains on her face.

Her Vision is on the floor. He wonders if it was her or the servants who had thrown it.

“You’re back.” She looks up, a fresh wave of tears trickling down her cheeks. “It was an…I didn’t mean to! I just…”

“Shh, I know.” He presses his handkerchief against her cheek. “They told me what happened. We couldn’t have predicted that your Vision would cause such a disaster.”

Her voice comes out in choked sobs. “It is my fault. I caught her…I was angry but she didn’t deserve—I can still hear her screams. What will I do?”

No friction burns or signs that she struggled against the shackles. Pantalone frees her wrists and hugs her.

“It is all right,” he whispers. “I will take care of everything.”

Another sniffle. She buries her face into his coat, soaking the fabric with her tears.

“I am more concerned about you,” he continues. He breaks off the hug and looks her in the eye. “My love, how are you feeling? It must have been such a difficult experience for you. If you need anything, just tell me.”

For a moment, his darling only stares at him with glassy eyes. Then she shakes her head and holds his hand, gripping it so tightly that her nails dig into his gloves.

“Stay,” she pleads. Her tail wraps around his wrist. “Please, I…just don’t leave me.”

Pantalone kisses her hand, a kind smile gracing his face. “I promise.”

vi. diabolic waltz

Myshkin’s death is covered up as a furnace accident. The false notice is sent to her relatives, along with a large sum of Mora for financial aid.

It is the least the Regrator could do for a desolate family.

His darling moves back to their bedroom. She spends the majority of the first night crying in his arms and seeking out his comfort. The next morning, she meekly accepts the Nilotpala lotus pendant and Sango pearls he had bought back from the pawnshop. The subsequent days are filled with silent apologies and thank you’s.

A week after the incident, she leaves their room to visit his private office.

“Are you still working?”

Pantalone looks up from his report. “This can wait. Do you need anything, my darling?”

“Not at the moment.” She stands in front of his desk, tail tucked between her legs. She is wearing only her nightdress and collar today. “Take this.”

She places her Vision on his desk.

He reacts with a carefully crafted frown. “______, why are you giving this to me? I believe you know the risks of losing a Vision.”

“I am better off without it,” she mutters. She pushes it into his hands. “It has always been wasted on me. You deserve to have it.”

In the end, fire is just another illusion. Despite the light it offers, it can only consume.

Pantalone lifts it up to the window. The Pyro Vision is brighter than any false star in the sky. He can feel its powerful warmth through his gloves.

The gifts of the gods, now in his grasp. But there is a far greater treasure standing before him.

He sets it aside. “I will take good care of it, then.”

“Is there anything else I can do?” His darling moves closer to him, tail raised. “You’ve done so much for me. I will do whatever it takes to repay the favor.”

Pantalone smiles at her and leaves his desk. “You only need to stay by my side. Though, I would not be opposed to other modes of payment.”

She nods and walks into his embrace.

⬩◈⬩

“I have a new gift for you.”

“Another one?”

His darling frowns at the package. “You know how I feel about your gifts. Just being with you is already enough.”

“Think of it as a gift for myself, then.” Pantalone pats her head, ruffling her ears. “I do enjoy spoiling my beloved pet.”

She purrs and hugs him again. “Fine, all right. That just means more cuddles for you.”

His precious jewel has shattered. She is much more affectionate nowadays.

The servants finish unpacking the phonograph. They pull back the curtains and leave the room.

______ regards it with curious eyes. “A Witch’s Chorus. What sort of music does it play?”

“Why don’t we find out?”

Pantalone places the record on the turntable and flips the power switch. The instrument begins to play a slow, festive orchestral arrangement.

Her ears prick forward. “This…it sounds familiar. Where did I last hear it?”

“Quite nostalgic, isn’t it? It is the musical score from our first dance.”

“That explains it.” She turns to face him, eyes shining brightly. “It was a waltz. How could I forget?”

The fire in her eyes has been completely extinguished. Though her gaze never fails to light up at any mention of their lost memories together.

Pantalone holds out his hand. “May I have this dance?”

Her hand feels soft in his grip. “It would be my pleasure.”

No red threads this time. His darling follows his lead, a peaceful smile on her face. During the final spin, she is quick to return to his grasp.

“Pantalone?”

“Yes, my darling?”

She meets his gaze.

“I love you.”

Pantalone almost stumbles. He stops in the middle of the dance floor.

It is difficult to hide his surprise. “Please repeat that.”

“I love you.” She says it clearly, still holding his gaze. Her expression becomes anxious. “Is there…something wrong with how I said it?”

He never imagined that those words could be said to him with such utmost sincerity.

Pantalone only laughs and resumes the waltz. At this point, they are dancing off-beat to the music but there is no crowd to judge them. Only the stars visible through the windows, twinkling across the sky like unfathomable jewels.

“No, it was perfect. You just caught me off-guard,” he admits. He smiles, pulling her closer. “I love you too.”

♡

Read the Author’s Note here!!

It is done……I am finally free from this fic. I never want to see Pantalone’s pretty face ever again. This greedy man rlly made me write a two-part fic that was longer than Herbarium and Fairytale combined (੭ ˃̣̣̥ ㅂ˂̣̣̥)੭ु

I hope you all enjoyed the Regrator’s twisted love story. I hope you all liked my yandere characterization of him. I hope you all suffer from brainrot while I get some rest and question my life choices. Thank you for reading and have a lovely day, everyone <3

#pantalone #yandere pantalone #yandere pantalone x reader #pantalone x reader #yandere fatui harbingers #fatui x reader #genshin x reader #yandere genshin #il dottore #dottore #tw: yandere #tw: dark #tw: manipulation #tw: death #tw: dubcon #spicy warning #mdni #fem reader #jessamine-writing

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ikolaiigh · 8 months

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Poor Unfortunate Souls

𝑻𝑾/𝑾𝑨𝑹𝑵𝑰𝑵𝑮𝑺..Prince!Chuuya, The little mermaid AU, drowning, thunderstorms, injuries, romantic tension, strangers to lovers, Mermaid!Reader, Fantasy Violence, Pet names, both Chuuya and reader are disgustingly in love,Reader and chuuya are down bad for each other, Love at First Sight, Idiots in Love, Reader is called 'Princess' and later on 'Queen', Weddings, Songfic.

𝑷𝑨𝑰𝑹𝑰𝑵𝑮𝑺: Prince!Chuuya Nakahara x Mermaid!Reader

𝑮𝑬𝑵𝑹𝑬: Fluff, angst, hurt/comfort.

𝑺𝑼𝑴𝑴𝑨𝑹𝒀: The ocean was wide, yet everything was very much the same for you, that is until you save a human prince from a shipwreck. Despite only having met once for a short period, the two Royals become infatuated with each other, The human wanting to know who saved them and you resolve to do whatever it takes to become part of his world.

𝘈/𝘕: here we are yet again! I never expected the support that received from the last one so thank you! I appreciate it sm <33 I had some difficulty in starting this chapter but I finished it off! Btw Yosano's dialog was based on the song "She's in Love" from the Broadway version! Yet again I thank @yuugen-benni for helping me out, I hope you guys enjoy this chapter! ♡

-For "Poor Unfortunate Souls" Listen to Jonas's brother's version or annapantsu! Since it fits better with the ambiance and everything, the fanart is by nixnyr.

Under The Sea - Poor Unfortunate Souls - Next..

"𝐁𝐮𝐭 𝐚 𝐦𝐞𝐫𝐦𝐚𝐢𝐝 𝐡𝐚𝐬 𝐧𝐨 𝐭𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐬, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐬𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐮𝐟𝐟𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐬𝐨 𝐦𝐮𝐜𝐡 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐞." -𝐇𝐚𝐧𝐬 𝐂𝐡𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐚𝐧 𝐀𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐞𝐧

Watching through the eyes of the merman's, a man concealed in the shadows of a dimly lit cave couldn't contain his malevolent delight. His sinister chuckle reverberated through the cavern as he reveled in his fortunate discovery.

"Well, well, well... Isn't this just too easy?" he mused, a twisted grin spreading across his face. His eyes narrowed with a wicked glint as he observed the trembling merfolk, their shrimp-like forms quivering in fear before him.

"But it's not just any love, is it?" he continued, his voice dripping with malicious amusement. "No, no, no. This young mermaid has fallen for a human—a prince, to be precise. Oh, how adorably naive!"

As his purple eyes gleamed with malevolence, the man reveled in the thought of the chaos he could sow. His dark intentions fueled his sadistic pleasure."I can already picture it," he mused, his smirk growing more pronounced. "The king, oh, he will be furious when he discovers his precious daughter is smitten with a mere human. The scandal, the outrage—it will be exquisite."

His attention then shifted, considering a more nefarious plan. "The king's daughter would make the perfect addition to my flourishing garden," he whispered, casting a sinister gaze upon the cursed merfolk at the entrance of the cave.

In the depths of his depravity, he relished the thought of ensnaring the young princess, both to taunt her father and to satisfy his twisted desires. The man's demeanor exuded a chilling mix of cruelty and madness, promising nothing but darkness and despair for those caught in his snare.

Days after your encounter with the prince, you found yourself lying on your bed, a blissful smile gracing your face. Thoughts of the prince consumed your mind—, His beautiful smile, the way he held your hand, the twinkle of his mismatched eyes in the sunlight, and the way his laughter filled you with butterflies—it was all you could think about. Lost in your thoughts, you were pulled back to reality when your sister, Yosano, called for you.

"[Name]! Come out, you've been there all morning," Yosano called out impatiently, assuming you had once again snuck away.

Emerging from behind the curtain, you swam out with a contented smile still playing on your lips. Ignoring Yosano's shocked expression, you swam past her and settled next to Ranpo, glancing at your reflection in the mirror as you gently smoothed your hair, still humming a sweet tune.

Higuchi and Ranpo exchanged glances, then turned to Yosano, silently seeking an explanation. Taken aback, she replied to their unspoken question, her astonishment mirroring theirs. Once again, their eyes shifted to you, observing your actions as you fixed your hair, plucked a flower from a coral, and inhaled its fragrance. You playfully toyed with its petals while swimming away from the mirror, making you accidentally bump into your father.

"Morning, Dad," you greeted him cheerfully, placing the flower in his hair. With a final smile, you left the room, your lovesick aura still intact as you resumed humming.

"Oh, she's got it bad," Ranpo grimaced, watching you disappear from the room, aware of the reason behind your lovesickness.

"What? What's going on?" Fukuzawa asked, his gaze shifting from his son to the space where you had departed.

"Isn't it obvious?" Higuchi smiled, her eyes following your path. She couldn't help but feel a pang of envy, she couldn't help but wish it were her instead.

"I must say! The girl is swimming in circles, chasing around her tail! [Name] is clearly in love!" Yosano chimed in, smirking as she adjusted the butterfly pin on her head. She wondered who had captured your heart.

"[Name]? In love?" Fukuzawa's disbelief was evident. Out of all his children, you seemed the least likely to fall for someone else. He removed the flower from his hair, smiling softly.

You swam gracefully through the crystal-clear waters, the shimmering sunlight dancing on your fins as you ventured deeper. Sigma followed close behind, his fins twitching. Finding a comfortable rock near a vibrant coral reef adorned with a myriad of blooming flowers, you settled yourself down. Gently, you plucked a delicate blossom, savoring the soft caress of its petals against your fingertips, your infectious grin never wavered, displaying your joy.

Sigma swam back and forth beside you, his fins twitching with anxiety. His voice carried a hint of concern as he spoke, "Okay, so far, I don't think the King knows."

"But keeping something like this a secret won't be easy for long," Sigma remarked, spitting out a stray petal that had found its way into his mouth. He shot you an annoyed glare, clearly displeased.Meanwhile, you propped yourself up on your elbows, enjoying the view above Sigma. You playfully tucked a pink flower behind your ear, and your smile remained unwavering.

"He loves me," you whispered, gently caressing the petals of the flower in your hand. You plucked another petal, a mischievous glint in your eyes.

"Hmm, he loves me not," you scoffed, rolling your eyes playfully. Annoyance tinged your tail's movements, but as you picked the last petal, realization washed over you.

"He loves me!" you giggled, cradling the petal against your chest. Kicking your tail playfully, you turned over, lying on your back with an ear-to-ear grin. "I knew it!"

"[Name], stop talking crazy!" Sigma lectured, swimming towards your side, concern etched on his face as he rested his hands on his waist.

"I gotta see him again, Tonight! Dazai knows where he lives." You got up and started to swim away but Sigma grabbed your tail fin.

"Princess, please!" Sigma pleaded, swimming along with you, attempting to stop your impulsive rambling. "Will you get your head out of the clouds and back in the water where it belongs?"

"I'll swim up to his castle, and then Atsushi will splash around to get his attention, then we'll go-" you excitedly continued, completely ignoring Sigma's advice

"Down here is your home!" Sigma groaned in frustration, positioning himself in front of you, determined to bring you back to reality.

"[Name], listen to me, The human world, it's a mess, life under the seaIs better than anything they got up there," Sigma implored, a reassuring smile on his face as he gently guided you to sit back down on the enchanting reef. As you settled comfortably on the rock, he positioned himself in front of you, making sure to maintain eye contact, his concern mixed with genuine affection.

"The seaweed is always greener, in somebody else's lake," Sigma sang, his voice resonating through the underwater depths. As he looked around, he noticed that your attention wasn't focused on him, determined to captivate you, he gracefully swam towards you, his movements fluid and mesmerizing. With gentle precision, his fingers delicately caught your chin, directing your gaze toward him.

"You dream about going up there, but that is a big mistake," Sigma said, his expression filled with concern. Yet, in response to his seriousness, you couldn't help but smirk ever so slightly, intrigued by his words.

"Just look at the world around you, right here on the ocean floor," Sigma encouraged, his voice filled with conviction. In a graceful motion, he took hold of your hand, twirling you in a joyous dance beneath the waves.

"Such wonderful things surround you. What more is you lookin' for?" Sigma sang, his eyes fixed on you, his voice brimming with joy. At that moment, as if responding to the magic of the ocean, a couple of fish appeared, swirling gracefully around the two of you. Their vibrant colors and playful antics brought joy to your heart, and you couldn't help but giggle as one of the fish playfully planted a gentle kiss on your cheek.

"Under the sea, under the sea," Sigma exclaimed as he deftly gathered his two-toned hair and expertly tied it into a neat bun. With his preparations complete, he began gracefully swimming around you, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

"Darling, it's better, down where it's wetter. Take it from me," Sigma sang, his grin widening as he took your hand and guided you towards his magnificent casino. As you swam together, the vibrant corals painted a mesmerizing tapestry around you, captivating your senses. But it was the sight of the grand casino logo that truly caught your attention.

"Up on the shore, they work all day, Out in the sun they slave away," Sigma dramatized, playfully draping an arm across his face. You couldn't help but chuckle, appreciating his theatrical flair. Sigma glanced back at you, a mischievous smile dancing on his lips.

"While we devotin', Full time to floatin' Under the sea," Sigma sang, his voice filled with joyous melodies. Together, you ventured inside the casino, mesmerized by the kaleidoscope of colors that adorned the interior. Merfolk patrons, immersed in the thrill of games, lined the area, while a lively band played on the stage. Sigma swam towards the stage, where a spirited ginger merman skillfully played the drums—Tachihara.

"Down here all the fish is happy, As off through the waves they roll," Sigma sang in harmony with Tachihara's rhythmic beats. As you watched their performance, captivated by the infectious energy, you noticed a playful dolphin gracefully swimming in elegant circles around the perimeter of the casino.

"The fish on the land ain't happy, They sad 'cause they in their bowl," Sigma mused with a hint of mock sympathy, a twinkle of mischief in his eyes. Tachihara's grin widened, the camaraderie between them evident as they continued to sing and play.

"But fish in the bowl is lucky, They in for a worser fate," Sigma sang, his voice carrying a touch of irony. With a playful twinkle in his eyes, he swam towards you, gently guiding you to a chair before darting back to the stage. As you settled into your seat, your gaze wandered around the casino, and a smirk tugged at your lips when you noticed a merman losing a bet, his crestfallen expression momentarily amusing you.

"One day when the boss get hungry, Guess who's gon' be on the plate?" Tachihara and Sigma sang in perfect harmony, their voices blending seamlessly. The infectious rhythm and energy of the song ignited a wave of excitement, causing the merfolk in the vicinity to join in, swaying and dancing to the beat.

"Oh, no, under the sea, under the sea," Sigma continued, his grin playful and contagious as he swam in playful circles around Tachihara. Their synchronized movements and lively energy filled the space, causing their fins to twitch with joy.

"Nobody beat us, Fry us and eat us,In fricassee," Sigma declared, his words filled with confidence. As you reveled in the enchanting atmosphere, your attention turned to a cluster of colorful flowers nearby. Tenderly, you reached out to caress one of them, only to discover that it was not a mere bloom but a delightful seahorse. Surprise flashed across your face, and at that moment, more seahorses emerged, swimming in playful circles around you, eliciting joyous giggles from your lips.

"We're what the land folks love to cook, But under the sea, we're off the hook," Sigma sang with infectious enthusiasm, his voice brimming with energy as he danced to the lively beat. However, his joy was momentarily interrupted when his tail became entangled in a net. He shot a disgusted glance at it before skillfully freeing himself and casting the net aside.

"Here, we've got no troubles, life is just bubbles, under the sea," Sigma sang with a radiant smile, his voice resonating with pure joy. The infectious energy of the music drew more merfolk and fish to the stage, creating a vibrant gathering of singing and dancing. Sigma gracefully swam back to the stage, joining the spirited performance with his mesmerizing presence.

"Since life is so sweet here, we've got the beat here, naturally," Sigma continued to sing, his voice infused with a sense of bliss. As you watched him dance to the rhythm, a gentle smile tugged at your lips, realizing that you had never seen him so genuinely carefree and immersed in the moment.

"Even the sturgeon and the ray, they feel the urge and join the play," Sigma sang, his eyes scanning the crowd as he noticed that the majority of merfolk had succumbed to the infectious rhythm, surrendering themselves to the pure delight of the music. Among them, you recognized Tecchou and Teruko, skillfully playing their respective instruments—a flute and a harp. Their melodies blended seamlessly with Sigma's voice, creating a magical harmony that resonated throughout the Casino's haven.

"We've got the spirit, you've got to hear it," Sigma exclaimed with boundless energy, his body still moving in sync with the lively rhythm. Atsushi unexpectedly emerged from the crowd, a smile illuminating his face as he gracefully weaved through the singing fish. Suddenly, his gaze locked onto you, and a mischievous glimmer sparked in his eyes as he quickened his pace. Skillfully navigating through the sea of merfolk, he attempted to maintain a semblance of discretion.

However, his attempts to be inconspicuous were short-lived, as a playful string unexpectedly snared him, entangling him in a dance with the fish who had captured him. Atsushi squirmed and wriggled, determined to break free from their impromptu hold. With a burst of agility, he skillfully maneuvered himself out of the rope's clutches, a triumphant grin on his face. With a whisper that only you could hear, he beckoned you to follow him, and you both silently slipped away, leaving Sigma unaware of your departure.

"Under the sea," Sigma began singing once more, turning around to search for you, only to find that you were no longer by his side. A sigh escaped his lips, a hint of disappointment mingled with his annoyance.

"Somebody's got to nail her tail to the ground," Sigma grumbled, a touch of annoyance coloring his voice. Determined to ensure the satisfaction of his customers, he left the stage behind, venturing into the casino to offer his assistance. However, before he could attend to any concerns, a small seahorse swiftly swam toward him.

"Your Highness! Your Highness!" A tiny seahorse called out, urgently seeking Sigma's attention. Startled, Sigma turned his focus to the seahorse, concern etching his features.

"Whoa, hey, what's the matter?" Sigma inquired, his voice filled with genuine worry, while the seahorse took a moment to catch its breath after its swift swim.

"I've been searching high and low for you. I bear an urgent message from the king. He insists on seeing you immediately! It's regarding [Name]," the seahorse relayed, its words laced with a sense of urgency. Without wasting another moment, the seahorse swiftly darted away, leaving Sigma to grapple with a growing sense of apprehension.

"He knows," Sigma muttered, his voice barely above a whisper, a gasp escaping his lips. Panic washed over him, evident in his wide eyes and the furrowed lines on his forehead.

"Hey, let's see now. Oh, who could the lucky mermaid or merman be?" Fukuzawa's infectious laughter filled the air as he playfully twirled a vibrant flower in his hands. With a composed demeanor, he straightened himself upon noticing Sigma's arrival at the doorway.

"Come in, Sigma," Fukuzawa beckoned, his smile ever-present. The merman took a deep breath, attempting to calm his racing thoughts, before stepping forward to stand before the regal throne.

"I mustn't overreact. I must remain calm," Sigma whispered to himself, trying to find solace in his own words. He took a deep breath, attempting to steady his trembling fins, and responded to Fukuzawa in a voice that betrayed his inner turmoil.

"Yes?" Sigma's voice wavered, the sound escaping in a squeaky tone that revealed his unease. His face flushed, caught between anxiety and embarrassment, as he addressed the regal presence before him. "Yes, Your Majesty?"

"Sigma, I'm concerned about [Name]," Fukuzawa voiced his worries, unaware of the hidden turmoil within Sigma. "She's been daydreaming, humming to herself... Surely you've noticed, hmm?"

"Oh, well, I—" Sigma began, his words faltering and his fins trembling involuntarily. He strained to maintain his posture and replied with a shaky voice, trying to regain control.

"Sigma," Fukuzawa's voice called him back to attention, his gaze now fixed on the uneasy merman.

"Your Highness?" Sigma replied, his voice barely above a whisper, betraying his turmoil.

"I know you've been keeping something from me," Fukuzawa stated, motioning for Sigma to come closer. Nervously, Sigma ascended the steps and positioned himself in front of the majestic throne.

"Keeping something?" Sigma mumbled, a forced, nervous grin plastered across his face as he willed his trembling tail to still. The strain of his anxiety threatened to consume him, like an impending tidal wave crashing against his resolve.

"About [Name]?" Fukuzawa pressed his smile both knowing and playful. His trident pointed toward Sigma in a teasing manner.

"[Name?]" Sigma uttered hesitantly, his anxiety mounting. He maintained the façade of a smile, but his insides churned with apprehension.

"In love?" Fukuzawa pressed, his smile both knowing and playful. His trident pointed toward Sigma in a teasing manner.

"I... I tried to stop her, sir!" Sigma blurted out, his words tumbling forth in a rush of nerves. He desperately clung to the armrest of the throne, seeking support amid the mounting pressure. "She wouldn't listen! I told her to stay away from humans! They are bad! They are trouble! They—"

"Humans?" Fukuzawa interjected, his voice filled with an unexpected intensity. Rising from his throne, he glared at Sigma, a mix of anger and concern surfacing in his features. "What about humans?"

"Humans?" Sigma chuckled nervously, his words faltering as he instinctively began to retreat, his voice laced with a nervous ramble. "Who said anything about humans?"

And in that instant, Sigma realized he had made a grave mistake—one that would have extreme consequences.

"Can't you just tell me, Atsushi...?" you asked softly, a slight frown creasing your forehead. Curiosity piqued within you, longing to discover what awaited inside the grotto.

"It's a surprise!" Atsushi beamed, his eyes gleaming with mischief as he looked at you. Leading the way, he guided you to the entrance of the grotto, anticipation building with each step.

"Well, now close your eyes!" Atsushi declared, a mischievous grin spreading across his face. With a resigned sigh, you complied, though an urge to peek tempted you. Atsushi, sensing your intent, quickly covered your eyes with his hand, ensuring the surprise remained intact. Together, you ventured further into the cave, the sound of the rock sliding back into place echoing faintly behind you, signaling your arrival at the designated spot.

"Okay, open them!" Atsushi exclaimed, standing before you. Eagerly complying, you slowly unveiled your eyes, and as the delicate beam of light from above illuminated the cave, your eyes widened with surprise. There, right in front of you, was the statue of Chuuya—the very statue salvaged from the wreckage of the ship that fateful night. Nearly true to size, it captured Chuuya's essence, portraying him as the embodiment of determination and heroism, though his signature smile was absent.

"Atsushi, you're the best!" you exclaimed, unable to contain your joy. A bright smile adorned your face as you enveloped your friend in a heartfelt hug, grateful for the gesture.Drawing closer to the statue, you reached out, your hand gently cupping Chuuya's concrete cheek, feeling the coolness of the material beneath your touch. Though his pose may have been exaggerated and his hair fixed somewhat uncomfortably, there was an undeniable beauty in the way the statue portrayed Chuuya.

"Why, Chuuya, run away with you?" you giggled playfully, your voice echoing through the cavern. You leaned your head on the statue's shoulder, a gesture filled with whimsy. "Oh, this is all so, so sudden,"

"Don't you think you're getting a bit...you know...worked up?" Atsushi interjected, his face contorting into a slight grimace. He observed you closely, concern etched across his features until he sensed a presence looming behind him.

"Can you blame me? He is perfect," you replied dreamily, completely absorbed in admiring the statue of Chuuya. Caught up in the moment, you twirled around with laughter, momentarily forgetting your surroundings. But as your gaze shifted, a sudden change in your expression signaled a shift in the atmosphere. Your laughter faded as you locked eyes with your father, standing sternly in the shadows, a disapproving glare fixed upon you. Atsushi instinctively swam to your side, sensing the tension in the air. Meanwhile, Sigma lingered behind your father, unable to face you.

"Father?" you called out, your voice laced with a mixture of shock and fear, as the weight of his disapproving presence settled upon you.

"I consider myself to be a reasonable king," Fukuzawa spoke in a low, chilling tone that sent shivers down your spine. Instinctively, you unconsciously swam back a bit, a reflexive response to the intensity in his voice. "I set certain rules, and I expect those rules to be obeyed."

"But—" you pleaded, desperation seeping into your voice, only to be swiftly silenced.

"Is it true you rescued a Prince from drowning? A human Prince!" Fukuzawa's voice dripped with fury as he swam towards you, his anger palpable."Dad, I had to—" you exclaimed, attempting to reason with him, but your father's icy glare silenced you.

"Contact between two species is strictly forbidden! You know that! Everyone knows that!" Fukuzawa's tone turned cold, his gaze unwavering as he locked eyes with you.

"He would have died!" you chided incredulously, your voice filled with disbelief. The shock settled in, realizing that your own father, the protector of all merfolk, expected you to let someone die in such a cruel manner.

"One less human to worry about!" Fukuzawa spat, his words seething with anger as he glared at you.

"I'm sorry that I don't want to be a murderer like you," you sneered, your voice laden with anger and contempt. Atsushi and Sigma looked on in shock as the words escaped your lips, taken aback by the sudden shift in your demeanor. Defiantly, you approached your father, unflinchingly meeting his fury with a cold glare of your own as you continued, "Do you think I don't know about all the atrocities your guards were sent to commit? You try to protect me and hide your past, but you keep making the same mistakes."

"And besides, you don't even know him!" you yelled, your anger seething. Huffs of frustration punctuated your words as you maintained a fierce gaze, refusing to back down. Atsushi and Sigma stood in stunned silence, their eyes widening in disbelief as you unleashed your pent-up frustration.

"Know him?! All humans are equal! They are born to destroy! They're incapable of any feeling!" Fukuzawa's voice thundered with anger, his glare intense as he shouted. The force of his words reverberated through the chamber, a display of his growing fury.

"Father, I love him!" you yelled back, your anger matching his intensity as you locked eyes with him. But as the words left your lips, a shockwave of realization rippled through you, the weight of your admission hitting you with full force.

"Have you lost your mind?! He's a human! You're a mermaid!" Fukuzawa's disbelief resonated in his voice, his gaze fixed upon you, searching for any sign of reason.

"Guess what? I don't care," you stated firmly, your anger burning bright as you held your head high, facing your father.

"So help me, [Name]! I am going to get through to you," the king declared, his voice laced with frustration and determination. Raising his trident, the weapon shimmered brightly in his grip as he pointed it toward a nearby globe. With a surge of power, the globe shattered into countless pieces, scattered by the force unleashed by his trident.

"NO!" you screamed at your father, the anguish of your voice echoing through the chamber. Atsushi swiftly moved to your side, wrapping his arms around you, offering solace as tears finally spilled from your eyes, uncontrollable and full of pain.

Fukuzawa continued to wield his trident, his wrath unrelenting. Pointing it in another direction, he unleashed bolts of power, obliterating more of the treasures you had accumulated throughout the years—The artifacts, accumulated throughout your lifetime, shattered into fragments or melted away, losing their form and essence.

"Dad, please!" you implored, your voice cracking with desperation, but your father remained silent, relentless in his assault on your cherished belongings. The bolts of energy continued to rain down upon your treasures. Sigma watched in terror at the destruction, while Atsushi, his face filled with concern, struggled to hold you tightly in his arms.

"Dad, please! Don't!" you yelled with desperation, breaking free from Atsushi's grasp. You swam frantically, attempting to reach your father, desperately trying to stop his arms as they pointed the trident towards the statue of Chuuya. The bolt of energy hit its mark directly causing the statue to crumble from within, reduced to a mere cloud of dust and tiny, crumbly pieces that floated aimlessly through the cove.

Staring at the remnants of the statue, you swam towards it, your eyes fixated on the spot where it once stood. It was a symbol of your deepest longings, now shattered and lost in an instant. Overwhelmed with grief, you fell to the ground, crying, your palms tightly covering your eyes as sobs wracked through your throat.

Fukuzawa extended a hand towards you, his expression softening, but he stopped himself mid-air and walked away. Sigma observed Fukuzawa's departure, then turned his attention back to you, swimming closer with a guilt-ridden look on his face.

"[Name], I—" Sigma began softly, his voice filled with remorse, but before he could say more, you interjected with a venomous tone.

"Just go away!" you gritted through your teeth, your anger seething as you rushed out your words, your face still hidden deep within the palms of your hands. You knew that if you looked up, you would unleash your frustrations on Sigma, screaming in fury, your tail flicked with disdain.

Sigma winced visibly, his arm lowering from its intended reach towards you. He glanced briefly at Atsushi, who appeared conflicted but understood that overwhelming you with his presence at that moment would only worsen things. Slowly, Sigma swam out of the cave, with Atsushi following closely behind, leaving you to confront your emotions on your own.

As you continued to sob at the bottom of your grotto, believing yourself to be alone, a pair of eyes stared intently at your form. They had been waiting for this moment, knowing it was their chance to intervene. Slowly emerging from hiding, the two merman swam in circles around you, their presence palpable.

"Poor child," one of the mermen sneered, casting a disdainful gaze upon you, while his companion nodded in feigned sympathy.

"Poor sweet thing," the white-haired merman cooed deceptively, his voice laced with faux concern. His cold red eyes bore into you as he circled, his intent unmistakable.

"She has a very serious issue..." the jet-black-haired one remarked, his gaze still fixed upon you, his smirk betraying a sense of amusement. The two of them continued their circling, an air of mischief surrounding them.

"If only there was something we could do..." the white-haired merman spoke again, his tone dripping with insincere sadness, his eyes fixed on you, analyzing your reaction. He then positioned himself closer to his eel-like companion, their presence becoming more imposing.

"But there is something..." the jet-black merman chimed in gleefully, his yellow eyes twinkling mischievously. He shot a knowing glance at his companion, a wide grin etched upon his face.

"Who... Who are you two?" you demanded, your anger simmering as you furrowed your brow, your guard firmly in place.

"Do not be frightened..." Shibusawa smiled sweetly, his red eyes piercing as he stood in front of you, his gaze unwavering. Meanwhile, Mushitarou slithered around you like a cat, sneering in a taunting manner.

"We represent someone who can help you," Mushitarou smiled, his voice layered with sinister undertones. Annoyed by his intrusion, you glared back, your patience wearing thin, you watched as he left to rejoin Shibusawa, his tail lifting your chin in a mocking gesture.

"Someone who can make all your dreams come true. Just imagine it—a reunion with your prince," they said in unison, their smiles widening as they spoke.

"I don't get it," you said, a mix of confusion and intrigue crossing your features, the idea of someone offering a solution to your heart's desires captivating your attention.

"Fyodor possesses great powers," Shibusawa revealed, a dark chuckle escaping him as he flashed a sinister grin, drawing closer to your face, his eyes locked with yours.

"The sea demon...?" you asked, anxiety creeping into your voice as you regarded both of them. "I couldn't..."

You contemplated the offer presented to you, grappling with a surge of desperation that you had never experienced before. The thought of being with Chuuya without the constant worry of the demon's tricks enticed you, even if only for a fleeting moment.

"No. Get out of here. Leave me alone!" you declared, your eyes narrowed in defiance as you turned away from them, determined to resist their tempting offer.

"Very well then... it was merely a suggestion..." Shibusawa's voice trailed off as he swam away, a smug smile adorning his face. Mushitarou followed suit, his expression one of disdain.

Yet, as you gazed upon the stone profile of Chuuya, your heart shattered. Deep within, you contemplated the risks, the dangers, and the price you might pay for just a fleeting moment with Chuuya. Even if it meant sacrificing your own well-being, your desperate longing compelled you.

"Wait!" you yelled out, your voice filled with uncertainty and a hint of desperation.

"Yes...?" Shibusawa responded, his voice taking on a menacing tone, a dark grin spreading across his face as he addressed you, relishing in the opportunity that had presented itself.

"Guide me to him," you firmly ordered, your gaze unwavering as you looked at both Shibusawa and Mushitarou.

"Then follow me, Your Highness," Shibusawa responded with a sickly sweet smile, his voice laced with malice as he locked eyes with you.

Somewhere amidst the reef, Sigma and Atsushi continued to swim in circles, unaware of the unfolding events.

"I didn't mean to tell," Sigma swore, guilt evident in his voice as his tail twitched anxiously. "It was an accident!"

"I know, Sigma," Atsushi replied, sadness etched across his features as he kicked a pebble with his tail. He looked up and noticed you swimming alongside the two mermen. Locking eyes with Sigma, they shared a silent understanding before swiftly swimming toward your figure.

"[Name]!" Sigma called out, swimming closer to you. "Where are you going?!"

"I'm going to see Fyodor," you responded bluntly, your tone resolute and your frown firmly set. It was clear that you had no intention of changing your mind or heeding any objections.

"What?! [Name], no! Fyodor is dangerous, he's a demon!" Sigma exclaimed, worry etched across his features as he tried to reach out to you. However, you shot him a glare that spoke volumes, silently warning him not to interfere.

"Why don't you go tell my father?" you retorted sharply, your gaze lingering on Sigma for a moment before you turned away, resolute in your decision. "You're good at that."

Sigma and Atsushi exchanged helpless glances as they watched you swim away, their expressions a mixture of concern and frustration. They had tried to reason with you, to protect you from the dangers that awaited, but their words seemed to have fallen on deaf ears. Sensing the urgency of the situation, Sigma gestured for Atsushi to follow him, silently communicating their shared determination to keep you safe.

The merman, Shibusawa, led you deeper into the dark and foreboding depths of the sea bottom. The once vibrant surroundings gave way to an eerie and desolate landscape, where random spirals of lilac smoke erupted from the ground. Sigma and Atsushi followed cautiously, maintaining a distance but remaining determined to protect you.

As you approached the entrance of what appeared to be a cave, a wave of hesitation washed over you. The cave bore a disfigured creature's shape, its open mouth adorned with menacing fangs and teeth, as if ready to snatch away anyone foolish enough to venture inside.

"Come this way," Shibusawa beckoned sweetly, his voice laced with that same sinister smirk that sent chills down your spine.

Swallowing hard, you mustered your courage and followed them into the depths of the tunnel. Inside, the walls were adorned with thousands of small, rotten-looking creatures, their twisted bodies reaching out towards you in a tormenting manner. Their crooked heads, with big sad yellow eyes that seemed burdened with knowledge, emitted haunting wails that echoed throughout the cavern. It was an eerie sight that made your skin crawl.

Suddenly, one of the creatures grabbed onto your arm, its grip surprisingly strong. Panic welled up within you as you fought desperately to free yourself from its grasp, the struggle intensifying with each passing moment.

"Come in, child. It's rude to linger in doorways, you know?" a voice echoed from within the cave, its tone laced with a hauntingly alluring melody. Once you managed to break free from the creature's grasp, you cautiously proceeded further, your gaze sweeping the surroundings. Finally, you caught sight of a figure seated on a throne made of bones, his eyes glowing with an eerie purple hue, fixed intently upon you

"One might question your upbringing," the man said, still looking down at you from his imposing throne. With graceful movements, his tentacles, colored in an eerie blend of black and purple, aided him as he swam toward you. A slight smirk adorned his face, and you couldn't help but notice the cross pendant hanging around his neck as he stood before you.

"It's a pleasure to finally meet you, your majesty," he said with a charming smile, reaching out to take your chin, displaying a self-assured demeanor.

"You must be the sea demon, right?" you asked hesitantly, managing to free yourself from Fyodor's grip with a quick and subtle movement. You tried to maintain a straight face, concealing your nervousness.

"It seems that my fame runs across the ocean," Fyodor chuckled amusedly, his gaze never wavering from your form as he circled you, attempting to get a better look. Stopping behind you, he continued, "Yes, that's me. I believe you already know my name."

"But enough with the introductions, let's cut to the chase," Fyodor said, his voice smooth as silk. He tightened his grip on you with one of his tentacles, pulling you closer to his face.

"You're here because you have a thing for a human, a prince no less. Not that I blame you," Fyodor chuckled amusedly, his purple eyes gleaming with malevolence. He grabbed your cheeks with his hand, whispering to you in a voice heavy with an accent, "He's quite the catch, my dear. If I were you, I wouldn't want to miss this proposition that I have."

"And what proposition do you speak of? They say I have to be wary of you," you retorted hastily, breaking free from his hold, trying to maintain a straight posture and serious demeanor, though a light blush adorned your cheek at the mention of Chuuya.

"Who says that? Your father? You know that the only thing he does is lie to you, didn't you notice?" Fyodor's tone dripped with insincere amusement as he taunted you. In the corner of his eye, he noticed your widened eyes and saddened expression, which only seemed to amuse him further.

"And I propose to make you human," Fyodor continued, his voice oozing with a sinister charm. "After all, I'm the only one who can grant you that transformation."

"Can you do that?" You asked, scoffing while maintaining a suspicious glare at him. Fyodor responded with an amused laugh, looking at you like a predator would eye its prey.

"My dear, Precious Shell, that's what I do. Otherwise, my fame wouldn't be that of a Demon," Fyodor said with a sneer, his purple eyes gleaming with mischief. His purplish tentacles wrapped around your arms, pulling you closer to him, enveloping you in his presence.

"I admit that in the past I've been nasty," Fyodor remarked with an amused glint in his eyes, his gaze locked onto your scowl. Shibusawa and Mushitarou lingered behind Fyodor, both wearing mischievous grins. He shifted his attention to them momentarily before resuming, "They weren't kidding when they called me kinda strange."

"But you'll find that nowadays, I've mended all my ways," Fyodor declared, a sneer tugging at the corners of his lips as he leaned in closer to your face. Mushitarou's laughter at his words earned him a sharp glare from Shibusawa.

"Repented, seen the light, and made a change," Fyodor chuckled softly, his amusement evident as he drew you nearer to him, causing your muscles to tense involuntarily.

"And I fortunately know a little secret. It's a talent that I've always possessed," Fyodor whispered with his hand playfully concealing his mouth, his eyes gleaming with a sadistic edge as his grin widened. Your response was a defiant glare that matched his intense gaze.

"And dear lady, please don't laugh, I use it on behalf," Fyodor's voice took on a dark undertone as he abruptly released his grip on you. He strode towards a nearby cauldron adorned with paintings of various merfolk. With deliberate movements, he dipped his fingers in black ink and began to sketch on the wall. You watched him, perplexed and uneasy.

"Of the miserable, the lonely, and depressed" Fyodor's tone oozed with sarcasm as he glanced back at you. Stepping aside from the painting, he provided a clear view of what he had drawn. To your dismay, the artwork depicted you with an expression of profound misery. His purplish tentacles rested languidly on the cauldron's rim, and his grin was equal parts eerie and mocking.

"Pathetic," Mushitarou and Shibusawa whispered to you, their voices carrying a sadistic gleam that matched the wickedness in their eyes. You felt disturbed by the drawing, your unease evident, while Fyodor's laughter filled the air in response.

"Poor unfortunate souls, in pain, in need," Fyodor's voice took on a dramatic, raspy quality as he spoke. The cauldron before him exploded in a burst of mystical energy, materializing two of his drawings into life. One depicted a sorrowful merman, the other a melancholic mermaid.

"This one's longing to be thinner," Fyodor pointed out, his gaze directed at the mermaid with an empty expression on her face. Shifting his attention, he indicated the merman, who wore an expression of lovesickness. Fyodor continued with a sinister edge, "That one wants to get the girl."

"And do I help them? Yes, indeed!" Fyodor's grin widened as he spoke. With a flourish of his hand, he granted the mermaid a transformed appearance, while the merman's features grew handsome and captivating. The two figures locked eyes, their happiness palpable as they were finally reunited. Yet, the merman's expression twisted into a maniacal smile, he seized a knife and brutally ended the mermaid's life.

"Those poor unfortunate souls, so sad, so true," Fyodor's voice resonated, his gaze locked onto your horrified expression. In a sudden motion, one of his tentacles snaked out and grabbed you, causing you to startle and let out a yelp.

"They come flocking to me, crying, 'Will you help us, pretty please?'" Fyodor's tone was eerie as he circled you, his movements reminiscent of a predator closing in on its prey. Despite being held by his tentacle, you felt an unsettling shiver run down your spine.

"And I help them! Yes, I do!" Fyodor's grin widened, his fingers pressing into your shoulders as he forcefully guided you to a corner of the room. As your back met the wall, you couldn't help but notice the once-blank walls now adorned with handprints and twisted shadows, each with a disfigured smile. Your expression fell, a mixture of fear and realization flooding your senses.

"Now, it's happened once or twice, someone couldn't pay the price," Fyodor's words rang out as he plucked a skull from a shelf, holding it aloft while casting a look of faint disgust upon it.

"And I'm afraid I had to rake 'em 'cross the coals," Fyodor's voice dripped with a malevolent amusement, his words laced with a sinister edge. Your gaze shifted around your surroundings, taking in the grim tableau that surrounded you. Souls and handprints adorned the walls, painted in foreboding black, each visage etched with an aura of unending misery. Your discomfort grew with every glance.

"Yes, I've had the odd complaint, but on the whole, I've been a saint," Fyodor's tone adopted a falsely sympathetic note, his words laden with insincerity. The skull he'd held was discarded, and with a predatory grin, he swam closer to you.

"To those poor unfortunate souls," Fyodor's amusement was evident as he spoke. Without warning, his tentacles coiled around you once more, their grip unyielding as he dragged you towards the looming cauldron.

"So here's the deal: I'll whip up a little potion to make you human for three days. Got that? Three days," Fyodor's voice held a calculating edge, his words carrying an air of unnerving certainty. The tentacles that held you seemed to tighten slightly, adding to your discomfort.

"Now listen, this is important: before the sun sets on the third day, you've got to get ol' princey to fall in love with you," Fyodor's smirk seemed to stretch wider, his eyes gleaming with mischief that sent a shiver down your spine. You shifted uneasily, feeling the weight of his gaze like a physical touch, you couldn't shake off the unsettling feeling that you were merely a pawn in his grand game.

"That is, he's got to kiss you; not just any kiss, this kiss of True Love. If he does kiss you before the sun sets on the third day, you'll remain human permanently!" Fyodor's laughter echoed around you, and his glance held a glint of mischief. Your thoughts whirred, a blend of discomfort and contemplation clouding your expression.

"But, if he doesn't, you turn back into a mermaid, and you'll belong to me" Fyodor's tone took a chilling turn, his cold glare accompanied by a sadistic smile that sent a shiver down your spine. Dread pooled in the pit of your stomach as his statement sent a shiver down your spine. The unease within you deepened as you grappled with the gravity of his words.

"Well, my dear, it's only fair that I disclose one more detail," Fyodor's voice took on a sinister undertone, his amusement still lingering as he focused on you.

"I'm going to take something precious from you, your siren voice," he continued, his tone dripping with cold satisfaction. As his words settled in the air, his gaze flicked to the cross pendant hanging around his neck.

"But don't fret. I'll keep it safe," Fyodor's grin twisted into something that bordered on eerie reassurance. His tentacles swirled as if in a macabre dance, and his purple eyes held an unsettling glint as he contemplated the course of events that were about to unfold.

"We got a deal?" Fyodor's words dripped with amusement as he observed your pensive expression. His tentacles rested against the cauldron's edge, the glint of malevolence in his purple eyes was hard to ignore.

"I... I don't know," you stammered hesitantly, uncertainty tainting your words. Fyodor's chuckle, though small, seemed to reverberate within the air, his gaze still fixed upon you as he released his grip, allowing you a moment to process the weight of the decision before you.

"Life's full of tough choices, in'it?" Fyodor quipped, his tone infused with a certain dark amusement as he watched your inner struggle unfold before him.

"No, this is wrong. I can't do this," you finally uttered, your realization hitting you like a tidal wave. The gravity of what you were about to embark on sank in, and it clashed violently with your morals and values. In that moment, a surge of courage fueled your actions, propelling you to swim away from Fyodor.

"Fine then, forget about the world above. Go back home to daddy and never leave again," Fyodor's words dripped with a sneer, his tone laced with disdain. The barbed comment made you come to a halt in your tracks, the memory of chuuya and your father's actions rushing back to the forefront of your mind. You turned back to face Fyodor, conflicted emotions swirling within you.

"But even if I accept, without my voice, how can I—" you started, your words tinged with a blend of uncertainty and anxiety. Your gaze met Fyodor's, and your tail swished restlessly in the water, mirroring the unease that coursed through your being. The prospect of the sacrifice you were about to make weighed heavily on your mind, overshadowing the hope that flickered within you.

"Everything will be fine, my dear shell. You are a mermaid, a being of inhuman beauty and seductive presence. You don't have to say anything," Fyodor's voice, dripping with a blend of assurance and manipulation, sought to sway your doubts. He spoke of your allure as a mermaid, attempting to diminish the importance of your voice in the human world. You bristled at the condescension, unable to shake off the feeling that you were being trapped in his web of manipulation.

"Besides, the men up there don't like a lot of blabber," Fyodor interjected with an enigmatic smile, cutting off your train of thought. The dismissal of your voice and its significance stung, and you felt a mixture of frustration and indignation.

"They think a girl who gossips is a bore!" Fyodor's amusement was evident as he continued, his words playing on your hurt expression. The irony of his statement wasn't lost on you, the manipulation of your perception becoming clearer with each passing moment.

"Yes, on land, it's much preferred for ladies not to say a word," Fyodor's voice carried a sense of calculated charm, a persuasive attempt to guide your perspective. His enigmatic smile persisted, masking his true intentions behind a veneer of authority.

"And after all, dear, what is idle prattle for?" Fyodor's words, delivered with a twisted sort of wisdom, seemed to coax you into questioning the value of your voice. The weight of his manipulation was tangible in the water around you, a current of influence attempting to sweep away your convictions. Yet, even as doubt crept in, you found yourself reflecting on the meaningful connections you had forged with individuals who appreciated the authenticity of your words.

"They're not all that impressed with conversation," Fyodor's words continued to weave their spell, his tone dripping with a deceptive allure that aimed to weaken your resolve. His enigmatic smile held an unsettling power, as if he was manipulating not just your thoughts, but the very fabric of reality around you.

"True gentlemen avoid it when they can," Fyodor's assertion seemed like a carefully constructed narrative, a seductive distortion of truth that sought to undermine the value of communication itself. Yet, the threads of truth were interwoven with his lies. You recalled the times when words were empty, when conversations held no depth, and you realized that not all interactions were genuine or valuable.

"But they dote and swoon and fawn On ladies who withdraw," Fyodor's words dripped with a mixture of mockery and disdain, his sneer conveying his distorted view of the world above. His tentacles once again coiled around you, their grip tight and unyielding. You watched warily as he dipped his hand into the black ink, a shiver coursing down your spine as you anticipated his next move.

"It's she who holds her tongue who gets a man," Fyodor's amusement rang out, his chuckle embodying the twisted satisfaction he derived from distorting reality. The ink-stained hand reached for your face, drawing an ominous X over your mouth. The gesture robbed you of your voice, silencing you in the most literal sense. A sense of powerless frustration welled within you, your glare at Fyodor a testament to the anger that churned beneath the surface.

As if his actions weren't enough, two shadowed figures emerged, winding themselves around your neck with a cruel grip that constricted your airway. The sensation of choking, both literal and metaphorical, tightened its hold on you, further amplifying your vulnerability in the face of Fyodor's manipulation.

"Poor unfortunate souls," Fyodor's voice resonated, his tone laced with a blend of triumph and malevolence. The situation had unfolded exactly as he had orchestrated, and the satisfaction gleamed in his eyes.

"Go ahead! Make your choice!" Fyodor's words carried an eerie command, his enigmatic smile growing even wider. The weight of your decision, the gravity of the sacrifice he had compelled you to consider, bore down upon you. The struggle between your desire for freedom and the overwhelming pressure of his manipulation cast a tumultuous sea of doubt within your mind.

"I'm a very busy person, and I haven't got all day," Fyodor's cold assertion hung in the water, a stark reminder of the urgency he imposed upon you. His demeanor remained calculating, his words an unspoken threat that compelled you to act on his terms. As the cauldron's magic conjured an image of Chuuya, your attention was captured by the fleeting vision. You found yourself drawn to the representation of his presence, your hands instinctively reaching out to touch the water's surface, a smile graced your lips, a reflection of the warmth that Chuuya's memory invoked within you.

"It won't cost much. Just your voice!" Fyodor's tone dropped with a sense of foreboding, his words a chilling contrast to the image of Chuuya. And in a cruel twist, the image shattered, the shards of the vision dissipating into the water, leaving you with a deep ache of loss and the stark realization of the sinister price Fyodor demanded.

"Those poor unfortunate souls, so sad, so true," Fyodor's chuckle cut through the tension, a dark amusement dancing in his eyes as he gazed at you. The weight of your situation intensified, the realization that your interactions with him were tied to your longing to see Chuuya again. It was a desperate gamble, a last resort to break free from the shackles of your father's commands.

In the shadows, Sigma caught sight of your interaction and hurriedly swam towards you, an intent to intervene etched on his face. However, before he could reach you, Shibusawa's swift action silenced him. A dagger at his throat froze Sigma in his tracks.

"Take a gulp, take a breath, go ahead, Sign the scroll, " Fyodor's taunting voice accompanied your every heartbeat, urging you forward into this pact. The weight of his manipulative words, the gravity of the choice you were about to make, settled upon your shoulders like an anchor. As if in a trance, you found yourself moving closer to the bowl of black paint and the ominous scroll.

With a steady hand, you reached for the quill and signed the scroll, the ink absorbing your agreement with a sense of finality. The implications of this act reverberated through your thoughts, a swell of uncertainty mingling with the spark of defiance that burned within you. Sigma and Atsushi watched with horrified expressions. Their eyes reflected a mixture of disbelief and concern, you lowered the quill and your signature marked the scroll.

"Mushitarou and Shibusawa, now I've got her, boys," Fyodor's triumphant declaration cut through the charged atmosphere, his voice dripping with a sense of victory as he turned to his accomplices. The sinister duo exchanged a knowing glance, a shared sense of accomplishment passing between them.

"The boss is on a roll! This poor unfortunate soul," Fyodor's triumphant words resounded with a self-satisfied grin, his gloating demeanor enveloping the space like a malevolent aura. The finality of your decision, the ink-stained contract you had signed, played directly into his hands, and he relished in the power he now held over you, he then positioned himself in front of the cauldron and burst with mystical energy, the cauldron erupted in an explosion of vibrant colors and swirling currents. causing you to flinch instinctively.

"Beluga, sevruga, come winds of the Caspian Sea," Fyodor's voice resonated with a chant that carried an eerie cadence. The air around him seemed to shimmer with an otherworldly energy as he extended his grip to the cauldron. As he invoked the incantation, the cauldron responded with a surge of power. An explosion of blue magic erupted from its depths, its brilliance illuminating the water around you.

"Larengix glaucitis, et max laryngitis, La voce to me," Fyodor's incantation flowed from his lips, the arcane words weaving a spell that resonated with ancient power. The very water seemed to respond, the currents shifting and swirling around him as he continued to manipulate the cauldron's magic. incantation took hold, a profound transformation occurred. The blue magic that had been circulating between you and Fyodor began to shift, its hue morphing into a vivid shade of green.

"Now, sing," Fyodor's command sliced through the water, his tone cold and demanding. The very currents seemed to still, the atmosphere charged with an electric tension as he fixed his gaze upon you. The spell he had woven, the contract you had sealed, demanded its price—one that was intricately tied to the very essence of who you were.

As you sang, your voice held a haunting beauty, the notes resonating with the emotions that had led you to this point. But with each passing moment, you felt something inexplicable happening. Your voice began to waver, its strength faltering as if it was being drawn away from you. Panic seized your chest, the realization of what was happening sending shockwaves through your senses.

"Keep singing!" Fyodor's demand was sharp, a command that compelled you forward even as you felt your voice slipping away from you. Desperation and fear swelled within you, and you put a trembling hand over your throat, your efforts to hold onto your voice proving futile. Your eyes widened in disbelief as you watched your voice, the essence of who you were, coalesce into a tangible form and move toward Fyodor, now belonged to him.

As your voice completed its journey to Fyodor, a transformation began to unfold within you. doubt crept in like a shadow, causing uncertainty to dance across your thoughts. Your tail, once a graceful extension of your being, began to split and morph, forming human legs in their place, a surge of searing pain coursed through your body, ripping a scream from your lips. Your arched back quivered as the sensation intensified, your mermaid tail igniting with an agonizing burn.

A cry tore through the water as your body convulsed in response to the excruciating transformation. Gasping, choking, your senses were overwhelmed, and your vision blurred with the turmoil of the shift. The familiar strength of your tail, the embodiment of your existence, was replaced by the searing unfamiliarity of two human legs.

Your body instinctively fought against this sudden change, and panic surged within you as your limbs flailed. Desperation drove you to attempt swimming with your new legs, but the sensation was foreign and awkward, and your efforts only seemed to drag you deeper into the water.

In your moment of struggle, Sigma and Atsushi sprang into action. Sigma's strong grip closed around your arms, his determination propelling you forward, while Atsushi positioned himself at your back, his presence urging you onward. Together, their support propelled you towards the surface, their combined efforts a lifeline in your disoriented state.

With a burst of effort, you erupted from the water's embrace, your hair splaying out in a watery arc before gravity tugged it back. The taste of air was a heady relief, even as coughs wracked your frame, water expelled from your lungs in violent bursts. The surface world stretched before you, both a new beginning and an unfamiliar challenge.

Your legs thrashed in the water as you tried to regain your bearings, your movements mirroring those of a newborn creature finding its footing. The disorientation tugged at you, leaving your body sinking slightly, but Sigma swiftly emerged from the water, extending his arms to offer you support. Clinging to him, you continued to cough, your throat burning from the water's intrusion.

Sigma and Atsushi were both panting, the exertion of their efforts evident in their labored breaths. Your body drained from the transformation and the struggle that followed, lay on a sun-soaked rock, your hair cascading like a curtain in front of your face. Weariness clung to you, your energy spent from the ordeal that had brought you to this new reality.

Gingerly brushing your hair away from your face, the fatigue momentarily taking a backseat to curiosity, you were met with an astonishing sight. Before you lay a pair of legs, an appendage you had only dreamed of possessing. Tentatively, you lifted one of the legs, wiggling your toes experimentally in the water. The surprise in your gaze mingled with the lingering exhaustion, but as the reality of the transformation settled in, a radiant smile bloomed on your lips.

As you explored the sensations of your legs, a voice, both familiar and teasing, cut through the air. Turning your head, your gaze met the figure of Dazai, who had arrived on the scene. His arrival was punctuated by his signature irreverence.

"Oh, look what the catfish dragged in! You look different," Dazai's playful quip rang out, his eyes dancing with mischief as he observed your transformed state. Your smile widened at the sound of his voice, your fatigue momentarily forgotten in the wake of his arrival. Dazai's presence had a way of lightening the mood.

"Wait, don't tell me, it's your hair, huh? You've been using the dinglehopper," Dazai's voice dripped with mock astonishment, his eyebrows raised in faux surprise, he rested his arms against your legs. His comment was so absurd that it drew an involuntary chuckle from you. Shaking your head in response, you couldn't help but be amused by Dazai's obliviousness.

"She got legs, you idiot," Sigma's frustrated exclamation cut through the playful atmosphere, his exasperation evident as he addressed the oblivious merman. Dazai, in response, feigned shock as he lifted his arms away from your legs, a comically exaggerated expression on his face.

Seizing the opportunity, you gingerly removed the strands of seaweed that had been playfully covering your feet, revealing your transformed legs. With a mixture of curiosity and determination, you slowly rose to your feet. The motion was met with a tremor that rippled through your legs, a reminder of their unfamiliarity.

"How many times have I told you that I don't like it when you call me names?" Dazai's tone carried a hint of annoyance as he addressed Sigma, his frustration palpable. He shot the merman a side glare, a clear signal of his displeasure. In response, Sigma huffed dismissively and rolled his eyes. You attempted to move, but your legs wavered beneath you, and the ground slipped from beneath your feet. The wobble turned into a stumble, and before you knew it, your legs gave way entirely, causing you to descend to the water with a thud.

"She's been turned into a human. She's gotta make the prince fall in love with him, and he's gotta kiss her," Atsushi explained, rolling his eyes at the ongoing bickering between Dazai and Sigma. Amid their chatter, you attempted to stand up once again but you struggled, your body was still adapting to the unfamiliar sensation of having legs.

"And she's only got three days. Just look at her. On legs! On human legs! My nerves are shot. This is a catastrophe! What would her father say? I'll tell you what her father will say—he's gonna kill himself a merman, that's what Fukuzawa will say!" Sigma's voice echoed with annoyance, his irritation palpable as he glared at Dazai. His annoyance was palpable as he glanced at you, concern for your well-being intermingled with his irritation.

"I'm gonna march myself straight home right now and tell him just like I should've done the minute…" Sigma's frustration was palpable, his voice trailing off as he turned to leave. But you acted swiftly, grabbing his arm and shaking your head vehemently to dissuade him.

"… and don't you shake your head at me, young lady," Sigma retorted his tone a mix of frustration and concern. He seemed torn, caught between his desire to protect you and his exasperation with the situation.

"Maybe there's still time. If we could get that demon to give you back your voice, you could go home with all the normal fish, and just be… just be…" Sigma's voice softened as he looked into your eyes, his gaze faltering when he saw the heartbroken expression on your face.

"… just be miserable for the rest of your life," Sigma sighed, his frustration evident as he buried his face in his hands. He let out a small exasperated click of his tongue before directing his gaze back toward you.

"All right, all right. I'll try to help you find that prince," Sigma relented, his annoyance giving way to reluctant determination. The spark of hope that ignited in your eyes was enough to soften his resolve, and as you hugged him, a small, genuine smile formed on his lips.

"What a soft fish I'm turning out to be," Sigma sighed, a wistful smile playing on his lips as he looked at you. His self-deprecating tone held a touch of humor and fondness for the situation he found himself in. He then felt a sudden splash of water, and his gaze snapped to Dazai with a glare, his frustration evident.

"Now, Belladonna, if you wanna be human, you gotta dress like one! Now come on," Dazai grinned mischievously, his tone filled with excitement. He grabbed a piece of cloth and some ropes, his gaze shifting towards you. Confusion clouded your expression as you watched him, uncertain about his intentions.

Chuuya strolled along the shoreline, his steps heavy with frustration, a flute held tightly in his hand. His expression was a canvas of vexation, mirroring the emotions swirling within him. Beside him, Albatross, suddenly exhibited a burst of energy, leaping and barking with fervor. The dog's insistent movements caught Chuuya's attention, prompting him to glance down.

"Whoa, what's got you all riled up, mutt?" Chuuya questioned his voice a mixture of curiosity and amusement. Albatross continued his animated display, gesturing and tugging at Chuuya, urging him to follow a path that led further away from the shoreline. With an amused chuckle, Chuuya relented to the canine's persistent insistence, surrendering to Albatross's determination.

"You look stunning, now that's what I call a siren," Dazai's voice rang out with a grin, accompanied by a wolf whistle that echoed through the air. Your attire was a drape artfully wrapped around your waist, the ensemble exuding an undeniable allure. Nearby, Atsushi's gaze scanned you from head to toe before he let out a resigned sigh.

Amid this moment, a familiar bark sliced through the air, drawing everyone's attention. The sound grew louder, accompanied by the rush of paws approaching rapidly.

Albatross dashed towards you, his excitement is evident as he closed the distance. Uncertain of what to expect, you instinctively sought refuge behind a nearby rock, attempting to shield yourself from the unknown. The dog's energetic arrival brought him close to you, and as he looked back in amazement, a sense of familiarity washed over you. Then, a voice—a voice you had heard before, repeating a scene from when you had first encountered him on that ship.

For a fleeting moment, your knees threatened to give way, yet, you steadied yourself, trying to regain your composure. And there, just as you had imagined, Chuuya appeared, reuniting with his beloved pet. His eyes, a mismatched pair of captivating hues, flicked up, meeting yours. A pause—an unmistakable moment of surprise—and the unspoken question hung in the air. Had he recognized you? The intensity of his gaze left you wondering.

"Are you okay?" Chuuya's concerned voice reached your ears as he approached you, his steps measured. Your gaze remained locked onto his face, and a rapid nod accompanied your smile, expressing both relief and reassurance. His answering grin was a small yet genuine one, a sign of his understanding and approval.

"I'm sorry if he scared you, he's harmless, just a bit hyperactive sometimes" Chuuya's voice reached you, laced with a chuckle. His attempt to alleviate any concerns regarding his exuberant canine companion was evident, his gaze subtly avoiding your eyes. In response, you dared to step a bit closer, your presence invoking a flicker of surprise on Chuuya's features. With a soft smile, you acknowledged him.

“Have I met you before? You seem very familiar to me,” Chuuya's question, uttered with a mix of puzzlement and intrigue, hung in the air. The sensation of recognition gnawed at him, leaving a lingering feeling that he just couldn't shake.

"Do I know you from somewhere?" Chuuya's voice cut through the air, his gaze fixed on you with a sense of recognition. In response, you offered a subtle nod, a spark of familiarity mirrored in his smile. As his fingers intertwined with yours, a gentle warmth spread through your hand. Albatross nestled against Chuuya's leg, as he looked between you and his owner excitedly.

"We have! you're the one I've been looking for, What's your name?" Chuuya's grin was both welcoming and inquisitive, his eyes studying your features as if trying to unravel a memory. You opened your mouth to reply, eager to share your name, but to your surprise, no sound escaped your lips. Instead, you found yourself mouthing the words, your touch instinctively moving to your neck in a gesture that sought to convey the absence of your voice.

"What's wrong? What is it?" Chuuya's voice was a soft caress, his concern painted across his features as he regarded you with gentle eyes. In response to his inquiry, your hand instinctively moved to your throat, a silent indication that you were grappling with the inability to speak.

"You can't speak?" Chuuya's question hung in the air, a mixture of understanding and surprise lacing his tone. In reply, you nodded, your expression carrying a tinge of sadness. A sigh of frustration escaped Chuuya's lips but his soft gaze met your eyes.

"Then you couldn't be who I thought," Chuuya grumbled, your frustration evident as you blew your hair from your face. But then your smile returned, a glimmer of determination in your eyes. Leaning over the rock where you'd been sitting, your hands began crafting signs in the air.

“Your breath?” Chuuya's confusion was palpable, his brows knitting together. Swiftly, you made a dismissive gesture, reiterating your earlier signal, followed by a sweeping motion that simulated swimming.

“You need help?” Chuuya's question hung in the air, met with your increasingly animated movements. As your urgency grew, you leaned too far and nearly toppled over, but Chuuya's swift reflexes prevented your fall, a grunt escaping him as he caught you just in time.

“Woah, careful!” Chuuya's worry-laden voice cut through the air, and as his arms encircled you, your cheeks flushed with warmth. The sudden realization that you were now in his embrace caught you off guard, momentarily halting your movements as he helped lift you to your feet.

“You really must have been through something,” Chuuya's soft words brought you back to the present, his concern etched in his features. His reassuring smile provided a comforting anchor as you tuned into his presence.

“Don’t worry! I’ll help you,” Chuuya's declaration resounded with determination as you found your footing once more. With one arm draped over his shoulders, you leaned on him for support, acknowledging the trembling in your legs.

A grin played on your lips as you cast a glance over your shoulder, catching the signs of approval and smiles from Atsushi and Dazai while Sigma's panicked eyes watched your form. With Chuuya by your side, you began to walk, your legs trembling slightly but finding stability in his presence.

𝑻𝑨𝑮𝑳𝑰𝑺𝑻...

@yuugen-benni @k-l-a-w-s @sszolarr @littlemisslovesbarbie @earphonejack09 @celestair

#bsd x reader #-the little mermaid🦈#bungou stray dogs #bsd #bungou stray dogs x reader #chuuya x reader #chuuya nakahara x reader #chuuya fluff #chuuya nakahara #nakahara chuuya #chuuya x y/n #chuuya x you #The little mermaid AU #bsd dazai #dazai osamu

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party-lemon · 2 months

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okay so. the kiss, right? after gathering information and reading so much meta (and fanfiction, because honestly, it has helped form my opinion on this also), I've come to a very long conclusion.

let's start with the fact that crowley apparently didn't realize he was in love with aziraphale. which goes against SO much fanfic and beliefs of SO many good omens fans. as someone who started watching after season 2 came out, i didn't think much of it because i wasn't as familiar with the characters. but now i get why people might have been confused by that writing/plot choice

but it's also really interesting. crowley is, essentially, TOLD that he's in love with aziraphale. and that's fascinating because he's been on earth for 6000+ years, how does he not know that, how does he not know what love is?

but for 6000+ years, he's been surrounded by HUMAN love. human love is fleeting, it's dramatic, it's romantic, it's sexual, it's silent, it's all these different things. human love is not only confusing, but it's distinctly HUMAN. and though they've taken up many human things in their thousand year stay, aziraphale and crowley are distinctly not human. crowley watches films and listens to music, sure, but he might see human love as something fantastical. humans watch fantasy films and read sci fi books and consume media and we think "that would be cool if we could experience that." we know it's fantasy, but it would be cool if it wasn't.

i think crowley kind of viewed human love like that. he knows it exists, but also it's sort of shrouded in fantasy. he's almost...indifferent to it. like it would be cool if it happened, but it won't. i think what he knows he feels for aziraphale is a distinctly NOT human kind of love, of which i don't think we're entirely meant to understand, because they're an angel and a demon and they've been alive for millenia and have known each other as they are for 6000+ years. from what we've seen, it's this deeply burrowed fear of losing one another, this desire to simply spend time together, share things they enjoy, exchange philosophical musings, pester each other, save each other, etc, etc.

and like i said, i think they know that that's love. it's unspoken, sure, but i think they both recognize that this deep, distinctly NOT human thing is love, in their own way. they've just been careful not to show it too much because they didn't think they could (flashbacks of "you go too fast for me, crowley"). after the not-pocalypse, they seemed a little more open to showing it, especially aziraphale.

but then nina lets crowley know that, not only is this distinctly not human love (she doesn't know they're not humans, of course) showing very clearly, but it LOOKS like human love. they look and act like a human couple. and i think crowley realizes that he loves aziraphale in a very human way also, that it's not just a fantasy, it's not off limits just because they're an angel and a demon.

so then the final fifteen happens and both aziraphale and crowley are desperate, and i think crowley kisses aziraphale, mostly, as a last push to show aziraphale what he's feeling. everything beforehand was him silently screaming how he loves aziraphale and wants to be with him in their not human way and that didn't work so he decides to show him in this distinctly human way. he's saying he wants to be with him and love him like a human, and kisses him, because it's what HUMANS do.

not sure if this made sense, and decipher that scene how you will obviously, but that's what i think, after being obsessed with this show since august lol

#good omens #good omens 2 #ineffable kiss #ineffable husbands #ineffable divorce #good omens meta #aziraphale #crowley #long posts

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tantalizingtopi · 4 months

Text

From the Journal of Gale of Waterdeep

Gale x Tav

Word Count: 337

Disclaimer: characters belong to Larian Studios

Gale notes his first musings of liking the leader of their group.

From the Journal of Gale of Waterdeep

‘The leader of our merry little band has piqued my interest. She thanks me for every meal I throw together, and genuinely shows an interest in how I perfect a meal. How she presents her findings for supplies each day is adorable, with a flourish and an apologetic smile. I have been pouring over Cooking for Joy in my tent in the evenings to make sure I can produce quality meals for the group, if only for her commentary on the dish and the delight on her face as she eats.

‘We’ve been through so much in such a brief amount of time, and I’ve grown to trust her. So much so that today I shared some information about my condition. I wish to develop more trust and companionship, however, before I relay the entire sordid ordeal to her. Hopefully by then I can prove my usefulness to her and the rest of our party and they won’t despise me for the monster this orb makes me.

‘Still though, the threat I pose to them is never far from my mind. As our group begins to grow and I get to know each one more and more I worry about what this will mean for me. I have pushed so many away for the better part of two years. But for the first time since the onset of my condition, I feel some elation, particularly when I’m speaking with her. I find myself watching her as she interacts with others, as we move through the wilds, as she battles.

‘Alas, I am merely deluding myself, for we have a most dire situation in our hands and allowing one’s fantasies to take flight is dangerous in the most auspicious of circumstances, let alone in less favorable times. And even if I were to imagine something more, there are far better options for her in camp alone than myself. I am content in being her friend and by her side, for anything more and I simply cannot provide for her at this time, as much as I would like to. Still though, my fantasies take the shape of her more often than that of Mystra as of late.’

#fanfic #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #gale of waterdeep #gale dekarios #bg3 gale #bg3 tav #gale x tav #baldurs gate 3 #wizard

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shaunamilfman · 4 months

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Perv Shauna this, Perv Lottie that. Where is my depraved girl twink representation?

Jackie runs inside her bedroom, slamming the door shut and backing herself against it. She was breathing hard, had she run home? She really didn’t even process getting back to her house, she had tunnel vision. When Jackie finally caught her breath, she slid down the floor to a sitting position, took off her backpack and pulled a sweatshirt that’s all too familiar to her, out of her bag. She clutched the hoodie in both hands, bringing the soft material up to her face, and inhaling your scent.

The truth is, you didn’t really know she had your sweatshirt. Jackie had sat behind you in 10th period History for over half the year now, she was *just* starting to question her sexuality at the beginning of the year, and then along came you. She was constantly smelling your cologne, watching your back and arm muscles flex through your t-shirts, getting an occasional hand graze as you pass the worksheets to her, and Jackie just wasn’t supposed to fall in love? She latched onto you, to an obsessive degree. Desperately trying to refrain from threading her fingers through your hair, drooling as you groan in pleasure when you stretch your back, hearing you speak to friends in the class and pretending all that fondness in your tone was directed at her.

So that day, when she noticed you had accidentally left your favorite sweatshirt behind in class, on the back of your chair right in front of Jackie, she realized she had two options. One, to run the sweatshirt to you before you went to practice, maybe get a chance to have a nice but brief chat, where you’d thank her for making sure your favorite sweatshirt made it back to you. Or option two, take the sweatshirt and run.

And that’s just what she did, she acted on impulse, and now she has something of yours. She has something of yours that’s concrete, something that will make her fantasies more realistic. Because imagining you on top of her, saying and doing all of those sinful things she thinks about, late, late at night, feels all the more genuine if she can smell you and feel your sweatshirt. She could clutch at it, while she touched herself and pretend it was your hands that knew her so well. The smell of your cologne on the hoodie spurred her on to slip a hand into her pants, and begin to play with herself. Her theft had left her turned on since the moment she left the classroom, stuffing your clothing into her bag, all the while thinking of all that she could do with it. She should be ashamed of how wet she was, if she were in the right of mind she probably would be, but she was being driven by the extreme want you produce in her. She muses to herself that you’d probably love the sound of your name on her lips, she tests it out, calling your name quietly to the empty room, hoping she could manifest you n the middle of her room, feeling just as depraved as she was. Jackie touched herself with a torturously slow pace, the way she imagined it, you always took your time with her, no matter how much she pleaded with you. The way you’d pull every “please” from her until she was crying in desperation. Her eyes are rolling back in pleasure as she brings your sweatshirt up to her face and drowns in the ghost of you that haunts the piece of fabric. She’s not even halfway through her favorite fantasy of you before she’s closing her eyes, and finishing with a pathetic moan that’s muffled by the hoodie. Once Jackie is brought back to planet earth, there is only one thing she’s absolutely certain of; You are never seeing this sweatshirt again.

got way too busy to actually answer this but wowwwwwww. im fucking speechless bro honestly. once again i dont think you need to put perv in front of jackie 🤔. i think it's just implied

something about jackie developing a pavlovian response to your cologne after getting off with your sweatshirt all the time. she's sitting behind you in class and is so turned on just from the smell of you. jackie teasing herself silly every night imagining you doing it for her?? she always imagines you so slow and even regardless of how much she begs for it, as if you don't care how much she enjoys it. something about you just touching her however you want really gets her going. jackie getting frustrated with how quickly she's finishing as she breathes in your hoodie so she keeps going with that same slow pace, writhing against her own hand as it gets to be too much. but she just imagines the way you'd keep going even as she begged you to stop. she's so careful not to get her tears on the hoodie, not wanting it to stop smelling like you.

thinking about working on a group project with jackie and she's practically shaking as you sit on her bed talking about the blank check or some shit. "so what do you think?" and jackies just frantically nodding along because she's long gone. finding your hoodie underneath her pillow while she's ran off to the bathroom...

god that was so good broooooooo. holy shit

#soffsh #jackie thoughts 🩷#yellowjackets x you #yellowjackets x reader #jackie taylor x reader #minors dni

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kaminocasey · 5 months

Text

25 Days of Life Day: Day 2 - Hot Cocoa with Cody

A/N: I've decided to dabble with a Modern!AU bc I've never done that before. So, here is this. I hope it's alright!! Big shout out to @idledreams because this wouldn't be what it was without her! I'm planning on making another part for this. And perhaps a series, POSSIBLY. Either way, very excited for you to read this!

Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI; Professor!Cody x College Student!Reader (About to be done with his class). So if that's not for you, I completely understand!

WC: 1.6K

The line in Java Hut’s is incredibly long this morning but it’s not that big of a deal because you have about another hour before you have to be in class to take your history final. And since campus is only a few blocks away, you pull out your book as you stand in line to wait.

Having just started the book last night before bed, you were eager to pick it back up this morning. Unfortunately, you’d forced yourself to put it down and go to sleep so you’d be well rested for your last final of the semester. But since you’ve got the time to kill…

About five minutes into reading, you hear a familiar deep voice in your ear. “Last minute studying for your final?”

You look behind you and see your history professor, Cody. The incredibly hot professor who you’ve been crushing on since the first day of the semester.

“Oh, hi.” You feel yourself go warm in the face and show him your book you’re reading. “No, actually. The Secret History.”

“Good read.” He smiles that heart clenching smile and you nod in agreement. “First time reading it?”

You nod. “Mmhm.”

“You’ll have to let me know what you think.” He smiles down at you and you hope to god that your jaw isn’t on the floor.

“Uh, yeah. I definitely will.” You tell him, trying your best to not freeze up.

You’ve never spoken to him outside of the classroom so this is new to you. And despite how uncool you sound right now, you rather like it. It’s way tamer than the fantasies you have at night of him.

“Next!” The barista breaks you out of the spell his warm brown eyes are holding over you.

“Right.” You chuckle, turning to order.

“Ours are together.” Cody tells her from behind you.

You can feel his warm chest against your back and it takes everything in you to not lean into him. He smells warm like sandalwood and leather.

You look up at him and start to protest but the look he gives you looks final and you nod, murmuring your thanks with burning cheeks as you turn back to the barista.

“A large hot chocolate, please.” You smile.

She smirks, knowingly at you.

“Hot chocolate, huh? Sure. Make it two. Thanks.” He bumps his elbow into your side, teasingly.

As you move out of the line to go wait for your drinks, you find a sofa by the window, noticing the snow coming down. It’s your favorite time of the year and you’d do anything to live somewhere where it looked like this all year round.

“Not a coffee drinker or is it just a seasonal thing?” He rests an arm around the back of the sofa, which also happens to be around you as well.

You’re not complaining.

“No, I’m afraid not. Just a little too bitter for me.” You shrug, pulling your foot up under you, making you accidentally lean a little closer to him.

He doesn’t seem to mind, thankfully.

“Too bitter…” He muses, clearly amused.

You’re trying to figure out what to say to him without sounding like an idiot. He’s probably one of the smartest people you’ve ever met and you’ve found yourself dreading the end of the semester, because that means you’re not going to see him again.

“I’m… going to miss your class.” You tell him, looking from the window back to him.

“I’m going to miss having you in my class.” He smiles, kindly.

“Eh. You’ll have another star pupil next semester.” You shrug, hiding a grin.

He chuckles. “I suppose so…”

Your stomach drops at his words.

“But that’s not why I’m going to miss you.” He leans in, whispering.

You feel your lips part and suddenly his lips are so close to yours when you turn your head, you’re caught off guard by the barista calling out “Cody!”

“Be right back.” He winks and walks back toward the counter.

You try to still your pounding heart before he comes back, to no avail. Does he know the effect he has on people? On you?

Of course he does.

When he sits back down, a little further away than before, he hands you your hot chocolate with a playful look.

“Here’s your warm chocolate milk.” He grins.

His smile sets your insides on fire and you shake your head with a soft laugh.

“You tease but at least it’s better than that bitter bean water you drink.” You shrug, making him laugh boisterously.

It’s probably the best sound you’ve ever heard, you think to yourself while you softly blow into the mug before taking a sip. When you look at him again, his eyes are on your lips and you take a napkin off the coffee table and dab at your lips.

“Do I have something on my face?” Self consciousness creeps in and he gently pulls your hand away from your face.

“No, your face is perfect.” He rushes out, then pauses when he realizes what he said and lets go of your hand. “I’m sorry.”

You shake your head, letting him know it's okay.

Does he feel this spark too?

“Growing up, I lived with my grandparents. I was incredibly close with my grandmother…” You start to tell him. “The first day that the weather turned cold in November, she would keep us home from school. She called it a mental health day and would put on Christmas movies and make a bunch of baked treats and hot chocolate of course. She never drank coffee.”

“Wow. Sounds like she was better than me.” He smiles, teasingly.

“Different instances. She didn’t need the coffee.”

“And I do?”

“To grade a couple hundred papers? Probably.” You shrug with a smirk.

“So, I take it that teaching isn’t in your future.” He sips his hot chocolate, trying to hide a face of distaste.

It’s clear this man survives on coffee.

“I’m sure you could probably get them to spike it with coffee if you ask nicely.” You tease.

“Chocolate coffee does not sound enticing.” He shakes his head, but he glances up at the barista, clearly debating it.

“I think that might be the only way someone could get me to drink coffee.”

“Hold on.” He puts his finger up with a smirk and walks up to the counter where they call out orders and flags down the barista, saying something to her that makes her glance at you with raised eyebrows and he shrugs.

You look at him with narrowed eyes and he throws you a wink, making you feel like the hot chocolate is suddenly burning you from the inside out. You glance at your phone, realizing you have thirty minutes until you have to get to class, and as if he has the same thought process, he glances at his watch and then back at you.

He pulls out his phone, leaning on the counter waiting for the barista to come back and types something out for a moment before putting it back into his pocket.

Your phone chimes, indicating an email and you open it.

Hello World History 401 students,

Out of the goodness of my heart, and in the spirit of the holidays, today’s final will be canceled. Enjoy your break.

-Prof. Cody

Your head whips up so fast, you nearly give yourself whiplash. He just canceled the final… To spend time with you? Your chest clenches just in time for him to come back with two cups of coffee and he hands you one. Yours is significantly lighter than his and you debate which question to ask him first.

“I told her to make it taste the least bit like ‘bitter bean water’ she could.” He grins.

“You canceled the final.”

“I did.”

“Why?”

“I’ve always envied Santa Claus. Giving people what they really want for Christmas.” He shrugs, taking his cup of black coffee, pouring it into the hot chocolate and stirring it.

You watch him take a sip and he sighs with dramatic delight.

“Much better.” He nods.

“Cody. The final.” You can’t even focus on the hot chocolate.

He shrugs. “I’m enjoying our conversation.”

“You can’t just cancel a final-”

“Oh really? Why did I go through eight years of school, if not to be able to make some kids’ day by canceling a final?”

“Cody…”

He sighs your name and the way he does sends your heart into a fit of wild pittering that you’re pretty sure you’re not going to recover from.

“Listen. If you really wanna take the final, here.” He pulls out a small stack of papers out of his briefcase and hands them to you. “But, you’ve already passed in my mind, so I don’t know if it’s even worth the hassle.”

Your eyes skim over the page. “A… B… A…”

He snatches the papers back, shoving them back into his case. “Insufferable.”

“All I hear is that I’m the best student and deserve an A.” You shrug, finally taking a sip of your hot chocolate coffee and then immediately spit it right back out. “This is awful.”

“What?! It’s barely coffee!” His eyes crinkle, hearteningly.

“Nope. Bad.” You shake your head, putting the mug down on the coffee table. “We just ruined a perfectly good cup of hot chocolate.”

“I’ll buy you another.” He offers.

You shake your head. “Not necessary. I have a different idea.”

You stand up and put your coat on, slinging your bag over your shoulder and offering your hand out for him.

“Where are we going?”

“Just trust me.”

He grabs his stuff and takes your hand with a wide grin. “Lead the way.”

TAGS: @twistedstitcher27 @rebel-finn @rexandechosandwich @madameminor @dumfanting @corona-one @tecker @ladykatakuri @brynhildrmimi @the-sith-in-the-sky-with-diamond @zoeykallus @maulslittlemeowmeow @littlemousedroid @arctrooper69 @rexxdjarin @padawancat97 @hated-by-me @sleepingsun501 @idledreams @redheadgirl @themcuwriter @ashotofspotchka @sunshinesdaydream @crosshairsimp73 @ariadnes-red-thread @rosmariner @heyitsaloy @starstofillmydream @high-ct5555 @echos-girlfriend @sleepywych @nekotaetae @justanothersadperson93 @aconstructofamind @book-of-baba-fett @chopper-base @palliateclaw @501st-rexster @dead-poolz @nahoney22 @where-is-my-mind-tho @jediknightjana @erishimoon @witching3 @queen-of-many-fandoms @wizardofrozz @burningfieldof-clover @rebelsriley

#25 days of life day #25 days of life day 2023 #tcw cody x reader #x reader #Modern!Au

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fluffyprettykitty · 1 year

Note

I looove your writing and I would like to make a request with tony stark, tony and reader as friends with benefits and they have a little drunk unprotected sex (after a party or a date) and she end up pregnant, she's all nervous about telling him, but when she tells him he's so happy to become a daddy and they officially become a couple? Thank you 😘 maybe a epilogue with them and the baby

Florescence

Pairing: Tony Stark x female reader (no other specifications!)

Word Count: 2000 words

Outline: Having long been in a fwb situation with the famous Tony Stark, you never thought that this would be the next step.

Author's Note: So this is set in my favourite Tony era, post im2, pre-avengers, no aliens to make my man sad, okay!!! Nonnie thank you for this lovely request, sorry it took a while, thanks also to anyone else who helped with their asks and thots, hope you will enjoy! Kept the baby nameless and gender neutral in the end so choose your own fantasy <3

Warnings: alcohol consumption, previous drugs mention, pregnancy, abortion talk, giving birth, breeding kink, hair pulling, oral fixation, daddy kink, public sex, bulge kink, multiple positions, spit play, oral sex (both), creampie, it gets messy and nasty basically.

P.S: dividers by @firefly-graphics // banners by @maysdigitalarts

Main Masterlist ・❥・Tony Stark Masterlist

NSFW UNDERNEATH THE CUT. MINORS DNI.

“You like it when I fuck you like that, huh?”

Tony grunts as his cock are full deep down your throat, a bit of mascara running down your cheek.

“What, mouthful? Mummy didn’t tell you it’s good manners to answer when someone asks you something?” He seems unfazed as he chuckles before he releases your head from his cock and you cough while spit and cum fall down your chin. Messy exactly as he likes it.

“Yeah, I do, daddy.” You smirk as you use your fingers to lick some of the excesses.

“Get up by the sink, grip tight then baby, daddy’s gonna fill that pussy.”

“Yes, daddy.”

“Good girl.”

Getting up fast you position yourself on the sink, your skirt still pulled up and your shirt on the floor, from ten minutes ago when Tony was eating you out pressed against the wall so you could look at yourself in the mirror.

The music from outside was loud, followed by cheers, Tony’s downtown club had a famous rapper performing tonight so of course, you had to come.

And coming you were indeed.

Tony pushes his spent cock inside your slickness, your hands automatically wrapping around his neck. You had both been at it, friends since the first time you met at an expo a couple of years ago, and fuck buddies since that one time you both got drunk on that cruise ship. And you had to admit, Tony’s cock was your absolute favorite.

“Fuck me, please!” You plead, your fingertips creeping on his luscious hair while his hands grip your waist, descending on your ass, and his mouth stays on your neck, biting and kissing.

Tony was very much well into marking you whenever he got to spend time with you, after starting his life as iron man three years ago, that wasn’t as often as any of you would like.

He snaps his hips forward, gripping your body tight as he freely starts moving you against his cock, back and forth, switching it to fast slapping skin on the skin when he bit down your neck.

You scream to your heart’s desire, nobody could truly hear you and you wouldn’t even mind if someone could. The people closest to Tony already knew about your beneficial friendship so they knew where you had disappeared. No one would come looking for you two.

The dark-haired man didn’t have to do much besides spanking your ass during the concert and then grabbing your hand and leading you to the VIP bathroom.

“You look so good with my cock inside you baby.”

He muses when he pulls his teeth from your neck staring down between your two bodies. He stops his movements taking a moment to admire you like this. On his favorite position, with his cock inside you. If he could he’d never get out.

Or maybe only long enough so he could fuck your mouth.

He slowly brings a hand forward, pressing it on your stomach and pushing your body backward.

“Feel me, baby?”

“Yeah!” You breathe, as he presses his fingers on your stomach, his cock visible there.

“Impressive how well you can take it.”

“I can take anything daddy, please.”

“Please, what?” He asks amused.

“Fuck me deep, breed my pretty pussy, please!”

“Oh, but now I am admiring this work of art.”

“It’s gonna look much better when you will be fucking it right back in.”

He doesn’t even respond when your words make him pistol his hips, setting a fast and brutal place, letting you try and grab his hair for support. He is going fast and desperate at it, the sounds intensifying while you are pulling his hair tightly.

“Fuck.” He growls, evidently, your new way of positioning yourself has him feral, something evidently he hadn’t yet learned, and he is fucking you like a sex toy.

When Tony spills inside you, he only stops for a moment before going right back to it, fulfilling your previous request. Your legs could barely close from the intensity of the fucking and your multiple orgasms, so Tony instructs you through the back window, calling for a suit of his to safely fly you off to his tower.

Tony always got a little more feral on nights like this, drunk and a little high. By the time he got tired of fucking you, it was deep midnight. He had you on the bed, in the shower when you tried to wash away your sins, in the balcony when he headed out for a smoke, completely insatiable and utterly horny.

One could say that he could never ever have enough.

Not of you anyway. Or maybe he knew.

Several hours later, when you wake up, he’s back in his office having a meeting, so you leave him a note, thanking him before Happy is driving you safely back to your apartment. You shoot him a text as well with a grinning emoji and he replies back with a suggestive one. That’s how it always was, anyway. You’d see him soon enough.

Yet four weeks later, you are sitting in the middle of your bathroom holding a pregnancy test between your fingers as the lines begin to appear. You shut your eyes close. That’s not how things are supposed to happen.

Tony and you hadn’t met up again yet, he was busy on an iron man adventure away from the country and you were focused on a big project at work.

For the next two weeks, you try to reason with yourself. Do you want this baby? Do you want to tell Tony? Could you keep it and then pretend to him it wasn’t hit? He will come to look for you when time allows him to. Would he even like it? Does he even wants kids?

Career-wise, you could raise it all by yourself, and if you’ve always wanted children, your mother would be more than happy to help you. So that’s the first person you call and she also encourages you to talk to him and so does your best friend and her best friend. It was only one phone call. Hell, you could even text him. But you knew it had to be in person.

Eventually, you head to a doctor, confirming your pregnancy and determining the exact date and it’s very obvious it’s his. You sit in the doctor’s office, legs crossed, impatient, with the weight of the world on your shoulders as the tv on mute is playing an interview of Tony smiling and gesturing as always does so and in your heart, you know. That man had to know. You couldn’t bare the burden on your own anymore.

So you take your phone out of your purse and call his number and hear his voice asking for a voicemail. In one breath you leave him a message telling him you need to talk cause it’s important.

Tony on his end believes you have met a man, and he tries to surpass his jealousy when he shows up at your door holding a bouquet of flowers. Now that was unusual.

You greet him warmly, invite him and offer him a drink before sitting on the couch with him. You are rubbing your hands on your body trying to gain more confidence until he stops you and gently holds your hand.

“Just tell me. Blurt it all out in one go. Whatever it is.”

It always surprised you how serious he could be at a critical moment. The soft smile on his face was to give you strength even if his heart was beating faster.

“Tony.” You pause look him in the eyes and then look down. You wouldn’t wanna see him disappointed so you will be speaking to the floor.

“Tell me, I’m all ears.”

“I’m pregnant. I wanna keep it.” You whisper, staring at the floor, your fingers nervously trembling against his hand.

There is silence for a bit, and the only thing you can hear is your heartbeat until you turn your head a little to look at him. He is grinning, looking down with a tear clearly hanging off his beard. He is slowly moving his shoulders, trying to come up with something to say.

You have to say something, and fill the room with sound.

“If you don’t want..”

“Stop.” He clears his throat and looks at you squeezing your hands with one hand and bringing the other to your face. “I want you. I want this. I want your baby. Our baby.”

“You should take all the time in the world to think about it.”

“I am thinking about it. This is everything I ever wanted.”

“Tony…” You try to form another sentence, trying to alleviate him of this burden but he only wraps his arms around you as you clearly start sobbing.

“You make me the happiest man in the world. Honestly and sincerely. I always dreamt of a family, I never thought I could get it, not with the drugs, the parties, and anything else.” His hands are caressing your back as you are still unable to grasp your emotions.

“I never thought you could want me like that.” He continues, smiling to himself. “Like a baby daddy.” He chuckles. “Though I gotta say I’m a traditional man and you know the inheritance and everything.” Now you are laughing too between sobs burning your face inside his chest and this newfound happiness.

Later you both call your parents together, and Tony asks for your hand over the phone. Your mom insists on a family dinner. He agrees. He brings a diamond ring, with your initials on it. He knows you’d never take his last name, your mom is happy, and so are you.

You agree on civil marriage, with Happy, Rhodey, and your best friends in attendance, and away from the spotlight. You just give a small announcement to the public along with a picture from your wedding day. All smiles, you are both wearing white.

The next several months of your pregnancy are straight out of a movie. You look for a penthouse together, Tony simply refuses not to be on the top floor. He agrees on you paying for the groceries and anything else you might like. You make plans to adopt a pet soon. He brings you flowers every day. Sometimes when he needs to stay away for iron man reasons, he sends Happy to keep you company. You want every show under the sun together. Tony still shows up with flowers.

When the day comes, you are well into your tenth month begging the doctor to take the baby out of you and you agree on induction. Doesn’t take long for the baby like this, and even though is painful and gut-wrenching Tony stays by your side, holding your hand no matter how much you are threatening that you are never doing this again.

Too bad he had already plans for five more. But you didn’t know that back then.

When the baby is pushed, he is right there grinning and exclaiming “I see a head! I see a head!” followed by a “they look just like you, baby!”. The nurse allows him to cut the cord and then carefully, they wrap the baby up to bring them to you. You never knew you could feel such happiness and such exhaustion in one moment.

He wraps a hand around your back and kisses the top of your head, you are looking at your baby, you know they look just like him. “They look just like you.” He smiles and rubs his chin on your head. Looks like you found something to disagree on.

When you need to leave the hospital, he has a helicopter booked for you. You tell him ‘there’s no fucking way” and he brings over Happy with a car. You leave the hospital hand in hand, reporters are waiting outside, and you both smile and go on your merry way.

And your happiness can only grow stronger.

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#selenewrites #tony stark #tony stark x reader #tony stark smut #tony stark oneshot #tony stark x fem!reader #tony stark x you #tony stark x y/n #dad!tony stark #iron man #iron man x reader #iron man smut #iron man x you #iron man x y/n #iron man fanfiction #tony stark mcu #tony stark fic #tony stark fanfiction

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invinciblerodent · 5 months

Text

Musings about the Thorm family

(HEAVY Act 2 spoilers ahead!)

As I'm replaying the game and mucking around the Shadow-Cursed Lands, I... can't seem to stop thinking about the Thorms.

I could be interpreting things all wrong here, but it seems to me that Thisobald, Malus, and Gerringothe Thorm, they're... all supposed to be Ketheric's relatives, no? The information on how exactly they're related is confusing (I've found places on their wiki pages where they call them all Ketheric's siblings, one where Malus is said to be Ketheric's uncle, but Thisobald keeps referring to Ketheric as "father" which I don't know if he means more as creator, as in if he's supposed to be Balthazar's twisted creation that merely sees Ketheric as a father or what) so it's unclear how exactly they're supposed to be related, but... they are still Thorms. Ketheric's, and by extension Isobel's family, who were all alive before Reithwin would have succumbed to the shadows and the Dark Justiciars.

Like, I don't claim to have perfect understanding of the timeline at all, I could totally be seeing this all wrong, but as I'm interpreting things now... it's said that the Thorms were a powerful Selûnite family, and the patriarch, Ketheric, a renowned general and paladin(?), turned to Shar worship in his devastation over the loss of his wife Melodia, and his daughter Isobel. He turned his back on Selûne, and led an army of Dark Justiciars against the Selûnite town of which he had once been in control, and both kidnapped her daughter's lover and Selûne's own daughter Aylin, and before his defeat, unleashed the Shadow-Curse that ended up corrupting the very spirit of the land, Thaniel. (My guess is that the intent was to kill Thaniel, but he was merely torn asunder by the curse, and the part of him that stayed himself managed to flee to the Shadowfell before he would have lost his power, while the damaged part of him that stayed behind made a home in Oliver's body.) Then, as he was brought back to life by Myrkul, Ketheric agreed to sell his soul in exchange for his daughter to also be brought back to life; true resurrection. On this much, I'm (mostly) clear. This mostly makes sense to me.

..... But the rest of the family... also all watched this entire thing happen. They too lost first Melodia, then Isobel, to death, then Ketheric to madness and then death, and then themselves as well.

Sure, they were likely corrupt even while alive, I'm not arguing that they weren't. Of course they were. But the little notes around town, they only say that Ketheric put his relatives in charge, and that the Thorms had the "cushy jobs". And I assume they were... all pretty normal people then, all things considered, because none of the notes I've found mention that, btw, the tollmaster has recently taken to wearing a suit of gold, dunno what that's about, or that the surgeon had blades for fingers, idk if you noticed, though those would be pretty important things to note about them.

Malus was likely the worst, with how ardently he seems to have taken to true Shar-worship, even with a clear mind (the medical textbook he wrote is described as crisp and detailed, blending Sharran aphorisms with genuine medical science), and how many atrocities it's suggested that he's committed, but... before getting his fantasy!medical license revoked, he likely was a genuine healer, a doctor. Not a cleric, but a surgeon. The head to the House of Healing as more than just a figurehead, before his curse-warped mind would have led him down this dark path, and since none of the memos and notes seem to have been dated, we don't actually know how far gone he was when he wrote things like "anaesthetic is a tool to relieve my ears of my subject's screams as I apply the blade, not a mercy to be freely dispersed to living corpses". Could have been during the assault, could have been decades later, we don't actually know.

Gerringothe, sure, she was greedy and corrupt, but she was... just a clerk, a toll collector. She pinched and pilfered valuables, but the curse, it amplified all her worst qualities, and I think drove her to madness quickly- likely even before things got so bad as for her to become what we meet her as, this devilish-looking, emaciated being masquerading as a golden statue. She seems to have quickly devolved to having horrible outbursts of anger that had her employees hide in safes to save themselves from her, but before? I... don't know if I've found anything to suggest that she was likely to have been all that much worse than many other characters in similar positions. She was likely just a corrupt official with a mean streak, looking to make a buck on the side. (I can't figure out why she is the only one of the three with the "fey ancestry" passive feature though. Ketheric and Isobel have it as well, but the others don't seem to??? Are they just too far gone???? Idk????)

And Thisobald... I think he was a pretty young man when he was put in charge of The Waning Moon. And even in undeath, he's very gregarious, genuinely friendly for someone in his situation, and he sounds almost innocent as he ushers you to the bar, sits you down, and requests that you drink with him and delight him, tell him stories about your adventures for which he rewards you by answering your questions to the best of his ability. (He makes a silly li'l poop joke when you talk about the Grymforge, ffs! He's just a chap! A dude! A sweet little fella!)

The undead patrons' dialogue and the book in the backroom at least reveals that Thisobald was a distiller, a brewer once- but as the curse (and likely Balthazar, given the extensive disfigurement of his body, what with the four legs, the tail, and the tank on his back) warped his mind, he seems to have turned more and more towards stronger and stronger toxins, poisons. (Because, well, what is alcohol if not a less harmful poison?) He seems to have become obsessed with creating a deadly powerful toxin, and then, once his mind was too warped but before he could finish it, he seems to have lost interest in that as well, and "lived" from that point only to drink his poisonous brews, and be merry.

It's just... all so sad. How just one man's inability to cope with loss ruined him, his remaining family, his town, and so many lives after as well; how he blighted the land for a hundred years and caused so much suffering, just because he could not accept the loss which he alleged to turn to worship.

Ketheric was never a true worshipper of Shar. He could never actually embrace loss or absence as holy. But he did drag everyone still dear to him down with him for it.

edit- just fixed a typo

#baldur's gate 3 #ketheric thorm #malus thorm #gerringothe thorm #thisobald thorm #isobel thorm #bg3 meta #i guess #bg3 spoilers #?#does that even count on my blog at this point #squirrel plays bg3

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tinietaehyun · 3 months

Text

Forsaken [VII]

[Sorcerer!Taehyun x Royal!Reader]

[Series] [Chapter Seven]

Pairing: Sorcerer!Taehyun x Royal!Reader [Ft. Sorcerer!Soobin]

Genres: Royal!au, fantasy, enemies to lovers, supernatural, angst, fluff, romance, action.

Contains: Profanity, mentions of anxiety, academic pressure, arguments, jealousy.

Links: Forsaken Masterlist || Masterlist

Summary: With Prince Choi having backed you into a corner, you feel as though you were trapped inside a golden birdcage. Perhaps, marrying the twisted prince was your one way out, without having to cause disastrous consequences?

Though in the middle of your crisis, you hear a demanding knock on your door; you knew who it was. Taehyun was not going to let anything slide, not whilst he was still alive. After all, this young sorcerer was the person who once came face to face with epitome of betrayal himself.

The sunlight beams through the grandiose windows of the hallway as the two sorcerers converse seriously, both adorning their cloaks. Soobin peers at the blonde haired man with a deep frown, “I…I can’t believe it.”

Taehyun bitterly hums, “I couldn’t either at the time. But after having so much time to think, it made sense why he did that. Not that it was right; but I was lying to myself when I couldn’t see the signs at the time. I knew internally he was jealous and I relished it.” Soobin regards Taehyun blankly.

The two men had engaged in a serious conversation in which Soobin pestered Taehyun to explain what happened all these years. He was appalled to find out the cause for Taehyun and his father’s exile. He couldn’t believe it, how was his father capable of such an act? No way! Trying to assassinate the king and the pregnant queen?

Even he could see, that his father would never do such a thing; he knew Taehyun’s father (regardless of how vain and strict he was), was a man of principle, of morals. Nothing made sense, how could the Royal Court of Fortuna fall for such a clear attempt to frame two powerful sorcerers; Taehyun was but a young child at the time!

“I’m speechless. I…” Soobin breathes out wide-eyed. Taehyun mutters grumpily, slightly regretting his choice to tell him about what had happened. Taehyun always had a hard time trusting anyone ever since the events of his past occurred. But with the way Soobin was begging, believing he had offended him, Taehyun felt as though divulging a little couldn’t hurt. Nothing could happen anyway; what’s done was done.

Soobin was a close friend of Taehyun’s back at the prestigious Sorcerer’s Tower. He was training as an apprentice there alongside himself, Yeonjun and a few others. Whilst the others were mere characters of the background, excluding himself and Yeonjun, the only other sorcerer of note was Soobin.

He had potential, but just needed time. He was a sweet boy, dedicated to his craft and quiet as a child, preferring to observe rather than speak. He was often referred to as the weakest of the friendship trio.

Soobin questions, “Does…the Princess know about this?” Taehyun shakes his head, “I don’t wish to burden her with my past, Soobin. I don’t need my baggage weighing her down. She already has enough issues as is. Maybe if she’s curious enough, perhaps.”

Soobin says, “You know, I’d never have thought Yeonjun to be that way. He always told me he admired you. That he was honoured to have such a talented sorcerer to call his ‘best friend.” Taehyun’s gaze darkens, “What an utter load of shit.” Soobin dryly muses, “I suppose I have always been rather naive. I didn’t think he was lying.”

“You are,” Taehyun cuts in with a smirk, “I remember tricking you into thinking me and Yeonjun snapped your wand in half in an argument.” Soobin grimaces, “No, no don’t remind me. I was on the verge of tears.” Taehyun snickers, “I had only hid your wand under your table, but you believed me. You didn’t even ask to see the supposed broken wand.”

Soobin’s cupid lips form a pout, “You’re starting to sound like old yourself again.” Taehyun hums composing himself immediately, “I guess meeting an old friend does that to you. Oh yes, you didn’t even cry, all you said was ‘that’s okay, it’s fine, really,‘ whilst trying not to hold back your tears.”

Soobin rolls his eyes and crosses his arms, “Okay, okay I get it, I was and still am a little gullible, a bit naive.” Taehyun snorts amusingly.

The two men stand in a comfortable silence; their previous tensioned atmosphere lightens. Both their minds rush with reminiscent memories of their childhood. Taehyun murmurs, “Shame, you left so early on.” Soobin releases a breathy chuckle, “Yes, I suppose. But I don’t regret it. I’ve been given a lot of good opportunities here in Luna. I want to expand the use of sorcery in Luna, kind of like the way your father did in Fortuna.” Taehyun frowns.

“Prince Beomgyu believes there’s a lot of potential for sorcery and magic here, that we could rival Fortuna if we play our cards right. He’s been so supportive of me and the apprentices. The royal sorcerer here has also treated me well. I’m bound to become the next royal sorcerer for sure!” Soobin exclaims with a bright smile. Taehyun's lips twitch, “I always knew you had potential, you just needed the right motivation and environment. It’s…it’s good to hear that Soobin.”

The words hit Soobin and his heart aches. Soobin shares, “You know, I was always envious of both of you, I both admired your ability and natural affinity for sorcery. I admired Yeonjun‘a charisma, charm and his wand techniques, his ability to carry out any new spell within the first try with ease.” Taehyun listens intently.

“You, on the other hand, were in a completely different league. The son of the Royal Sorcerer, the pioneer of Fortuna’s Sorcery Legacy. No wonder Yeonjun was jealous of you, even if he didn’t show it. Hell, I was jealous. I think everyone in the damn class was.” Taehyun scowls, “Jealousy is fine, but that doesn’t mean being a backstabbing piece of shit.”

Soobin snorts, “True, but the way you handled your mana, your wand techniques, your ability to memorise hundreds upon hundreds of spells and enchantments. I could never understand.”

Taehyun remains quiet; he never did have to think too hard about it. He could sympathise with Soobin’s perspective. Soobin never once hurt him or showed any signs of harmful jealousy.

“Thank you,” Taehyun utters lowly, “You’ve improved. I can tell, you’re confident in your abilities, I can sense it.”

Soobin smiles genuinely, “I worked hard here. I remembered your advice, your father’s advice. You even gave me some of your notes to take with me when you heard I was moving.” Taehyun says nothing; feeling a dull ache in his chest. The past always seems to somehow catch up to him in the most convoluted of ways.

“You know, I always preferred our discussions, just us two, rather than me and Yeonjun,” Soobin admits. Taehyun hums, “Why’s that?”

“At the the time; you were always so rude and blunt about things. I always thought you had a big head on you. But no, you were just being honest, constructively critiquing me, I was an idiot to not see that back then. Only when I was going to leave, after you gave me some of your notes, encouraged me, I knew you were being harsh because you saw potential in me, you wanted to see me succeed alongside you,” Soobin’s eyes glimmer.

Taehyun clears his throat feeling flustered at the onslaught of praise and peers away, “Well, I thought that was obvious. But perhaps, it was a mistake on my part for coming off as so…harsh. I just found it frustrating to see you constantly demeaning yourself.”

Soobin nods slowly, “Despite that, I left,” he frowns, “I’m sorry for leaving you behind. I never expected Yeonjun to be so terrible. I thought you two would be fine.”

Taehyun mutters, “Well, you’re not a fortune teller. I didn’t stop you from leaving because I didn’t want to hold you back. It was clear, you weren’t enjoying the pressure of the Sorcerer’s Tower, being caught between the unspoken rivalry of me and Yeonjun. You did good, Soobin.”

Soobin’s expression softens and he murmurs, “If I had known you’d been exiled…I…I would have came to help, to visit.” Taehyun drawls, “You couldn’t have done anything, it’s fine.”

Soobin stands there solemnly, “For the first time in a long time, I feel like…you’re more in tune with your emotions, Taehyun.” Taehyun affirms, “I know. Years of being alone, isolated and surrounded by mysterious supernatural nature, does that to you. You have a lot of time to think.”

Soobin murmurs, “I’d imagine so. We’ve got to catch up more. You’ve got to describe the Woods of Mors to me. Teach me a few new spells too?”Taehyun muses, “Believe me, I could go all day. Just so happens I have my little spell book, too.”

A sense of calmness permeates through Taehyun; it had felt good to open up a little to someone; the one person from his past who saw him for who he was. Perhaps, this meeting of fate was not so bad.

Soobin’s brows furrow in deep thought, “Huh, I should probably stop writing to Yeonjun.” Taehyun scowls, “You write letters to him?” Soobin huffs, “In my defence, I didn’t know he did all that!” Taehyun scoffs, “Pitiful, you really are so sappy.” Soobin rolls his eyes, “Don’t worry, the letters stop.”

He hums, “I sent letters to you too, you know; addressed to the Sorcerer’s Tower. But after getting no response, I kind of assumed you wanted nothing to do with me. I didn’t know you were exiled of course.”

“Well, Yeonjun must have had a fun time tearing them up or throwing them into the fire,” Taehyun mutters unimpressed. Soobin snorts amused, “There goes my hard work recounting my wondrous progress in sorcery.”

The two men chuckle, feeling once more comfortable with each other, a sense of nostalgia permeates the air. “If you need any help around here, don’t hesitate to call on me, okay?” Soobin hums. Taehyun nonchalantly hums, making Soobin smirk, “Yes, yes sure. Whatever.”

The pleasant atmosphere is sliced into as they both spot you rushing down another hallway from afar without sparing them either a glance. Taehyun’s visage morphs into a serious expression; his heart instinctively palpitates. You seemed to be in a hurry?

Following a second later, Beomgyu walks in with a frustrated face. His eyes catch a glance of Soobin and Taehyun immediately switches into a pleasant smile, beginning to walk toward the two. Taehyun’s jaw tightens; he never cared particularly for the Prince. Then again, he never really cared for any royalty. Except you. Wait, he didn’t mean that, what was he saying? Focus!

“Gentlemen, well, is everything sorted? All caught up?” Beomgyu asks brightly. They both lower their heads respectfully as Soobin utters, “Your highness, but of course.”

Beomgyu’s eyes observes Taehyun intently, scanning him once over, “Soobin has told me a little about you, yet you still remain rather a mystery in my eyes.” Soobin gleams, “Don’t worry, your highness, I’ve got a lot more to say. He is incredibly talented.” Taehyun grimaces, peering at Soobin awkwardly, “Perhaps, let’s not do that.”

Beomgyu tilts his head musing, “Hm, y/n must trust you a lot for her to let you remain by her side. She’s always been a cautious individual.”

Taehyun murmurs, “I suppose. How long have you known her?” Beomgyu’s eyes twinkle, “Oh, for a long time, did you know we were once to be betrothed?” Soobin’s eyes light up, “Oh yes, I remember. You sent over quite the array of gifts and the largest bouquet I’ve ever seen, your highness.”

Taehyun stiffens; a surge of irritation courses through him. What made him feel this way? It obviously didn’t go through, but why did the mere idea make him feel so infuriated?

Beomgyu sighs, “A shame really, she was rather fond of me, unlike her father and the royal court.” Beomgyu’s gaze meets Taehyun as his lips form a coy smile, “We found ourselves catching up pleasantly.” Soobin grins, “Good to hear it, your highness! You both make an excellent pair.”

Taehyun snaps his head to Soobin. Soobin asks, “What?” Taehyun mutters, “Nothing, it’s nothing.” A heavy feeling grows in Taehyun’s heart. Why did y/n not say anything about this to him?

Then again, who was he to you? Who were you to him? You weren’t obligated to tell him anything, neither was he to you. So then why did this whole idea of her being alone with this prissy stuck-up prince irk Taehyun so badly?

At the end of the day, Taehyun was not royalty, not a noble whatsoever; so why was he feeling angered? Not like anything was going to occur.

Beomgyu hums; his tone condescending, “I find it fascinating, she chose to trust a complete stranger. Someone like you, with unknown intentions.”

Taehyun's gaze morphs into a glare. What was he trying to imply? Soobin’s smile fades slightly at the tone of voice, “Your highness?” Beomgyu hums amused, “Merely an observation. It was out of desperation of course, that she did so.”

Soobin’s shoulders relax as he asks, “So, what’s the plan, your highness? Was it what we discussed yesterday?” Beomgyu simply nods. Taehyun asks, “Is there anything I can do to help?”

Beomgyu’s eyes have an unrecognisable glint to them and he brushes off Taehyun's remark, “Oh yes; I’ll explain the plan to you in more detail later. I just remembered I have an important task to get back to, I’m already behind schedule. Soobin come with me, I have some other matters, regarding the funding to speak of.” Soobin hurriedly nods walking behind Beomgyu, “See you later Taehyun.” Taehyun doesn’t respond, feeling a surge of anger flood through him.

He mutters to himself, “Who the fuck does he think he is? Stupid fucking prince.” To think Soobin follows behind him like a pitiful puppy dog.

Taehyun’s mind flickers back to you. Oh yes! You’d ran off; his mind was already churning with suspense. Were you okay? He had stormed off earlier too; surely you weren’t upset at him for that, were you? Wait, why did he care what you thought?

His feet move themselves in the direction of the guest wing, in a reluctant search for you. Soon, he finds himself outside of your door and he knocks a few times. A muffled, “Leave me be,” resounds.

Taehyun scoffs, “Not happening. Open up, sweetheart.” He is surprised at your reluctance; surely you weren’t throwing some sort of tantrum were you? Did something happen between you and Beomgyu?

“Let me in, princess,” Taehyun demands; his heart rate increasing. A moment of silence ensues before he hears the soft click of the door opening; revealing you dressed in a new lovely gown befitting your status. Your face looked exhausted, your eyes were glazed over as if you were about to break down into tears. Your bottom lip trembles ever so slightly causing a pang to hit Taehyun’s heart. What the hell?

His harsh gaze softens and Taehyun asks, “Sweetheart?” A sniffle escapes your nose as you turn away walking into the room; he follows after you, closing the door behind him. You were on the very verge of crying. You felt trapped here, in this damn palace. A place you thought would be a safe haven.

You plop yourself down onto the luxuriously oversized rug on the floor where you’ve managed to pile several cushions around you to comfort yourself. Taehyun watches as you get comfortable; a concerned expression painting his features. He knew something was troubling you.

“What’s wrong? Did something happen between you and Beomgyu?” He asks; his tone coming out blunter than expected. You feel your eyes become wet and tears drip down your cheeks. How pathetic you were! Here you were crying; how miserable.

Taehyun huffs walking closer; unfastening his cloak clasp and throwing his cloak aside carelessly onto the bed before moving some of the cushions. You sniffle, “What are you doing?” “Sitting next to you, you pretty fool.”

You whine as he sits himself right next to you; his thigh brushing against yours as he readjusts the cushions back to their positions once he’s settled. He snarks, “There’s a king sized bed here, that you could sulk on, you know.” You hit one of the velvet cushions onto his arm making him scoff.

“You’re crying, why’s that?” He enquires with a tilt of his head; some locks of his hair fall across his piercing eyes. “It’s nothing,” you mutter. Taehyun remarks annoyed, “Tch, it’s certainly not nothing. Let’s skip over the pointless denial. Something’s clearly happened. Unless you don’t want to tell me, then I can just sit here or something. Perform a magic show or something to keep you entertained,” he grimaces.

You snort teary-eyed, “A magic show?” He rolls his eyes, “Yeah, well are you going to tell me or what? I don’t want you turning your mind into mush overthinking.” His finger tips glow ever so slightly.

“It’s just the pressure of getting my throne back. Just hurt feelings,” You murmur. Taehyun’s eyes sharply glint, “Lying to me is not going to get you anywhere, princess. Either you can choose to tell me the truth or you’re not obligated to tell me at all.” You flinch at his sharp tone.

More tears escape from your eyes and Taehyun watches you; a sense of awkwardness not knowing how to handle your tears properly.

He wanted you to open up more to him, but didn’t want to force you. He didn’t want you to bawl in front of him either. Taehyun mumbles, “This isn’t like you. It’s strange.” Taehyun knew you were upset; it had to be something to do with Beomgyu!

“It’s Beomgyu. You were upset after catching up with him. It’s obvious,” he utters. You find yourself flinching at his direct statement; he was observant. Taehyun takes note of your reaction confirming his suspicions. It was. What did that bastard do or say to you?

Taehyun’s jaw tightens and gaze sharpens, “What the fuck did he do?” You stammer, “No, no. Calm down.” Taehyun snaps, “What then?”

You take a moment to compose yourself, before beginning to slowly reiterate everything that had previously occurred between you and Beomgyu on your walk together.

Taehyun was the one person who you felt you could maybe trust now. Who knows maybe you were meant to play the fool and get played by everyone around you. You didn’t care, you just needed to vent; it felt good to tell him.

Finishing your recount, you peer at him and see his blank expression. His eyes hold no emotion and he stiffly sits meeting your eyes.

Abruptly, Taehyun goes to get up; an enraged look in his eyes, “That fucking manipulative piece of shit! That fucking bastard, just wait till I-“

Your eyes widen and you scramble forward grabbing his arm with your entire might, “Taehyun! Wait! This is a matter that needs t-to be handled delicately!” You grunt, pulling him back towards you.

“That fucking prince lulled you into a false sense of security, we’re stuck right in right in his trap,” Taehyun seethes. Your eyes widen; you hadn’t seen Taehyun so angry before. Infuriated, he exclaims, “How the fuck are you sitting so calm? All these disgusting royals only ever think of themselves. They don’t see you as a victim of genuine treachery, just a fucking chess piece to be used to further themselves!”

You flinch; he was right. Your eyes water, “I get it, I know okay! That’s just the way the world works!”

Taehyun peers down at you, at the way you cling to his arm, “I know what it feels like to be betrayed by someone you truly trusted. It fucking hurts to see it happen to you.” His sudden honesty touches you and your lips tremble, “T-Taehyun.”

“I don’t want you to give up, which is what I did. I accepted my exile. I wish I had died fighting,” he rasps out. His eyes hold intense pain and you tremble. Your fingers dig into his arm as you whimper, “Sit with me. Stay with me. Please don’t be reckless, Taehyun. Please.”

He regards you for a moment in silence. Taehyun asks coldly, “Are you going to agree with his plan to marry you? You’re going to marry yourself to that bastard? Tell me.” You remain silent; you were deep in thought before Taehyun arrived knocking at your door.

In all honesty, you were contemplating the notion. You had to tread carefully. Perhaps, you think, it was easier to sacrifice your own happiness instead of risking the downfall of Fortuna and its people through your foolish brother. Perhaps, choosing the lesser evil of both evils was better than choosing nothing at all.

You didn’t want the nations to erupt in unrest or potential threat of war or breach of the treaty. You were scared of stepping into the world of politics head first. All your actions had repercussions.

You pull him back to attempt to sit him down and he stumbles slightly into a crouch; his face a few inches from yours. He doesn’t move away as he snarks, “You’re contemplating it aren’t you? You’re an idiot. What about love? Why should you sacrifice your own happiness for this shit?”

Anger surges through you, “You don’t get it! You don’t understand the pressure of responsibility I feel, whatever step I take has consequences! You wouldn’t know what it’s like to be in my position! I cannot act recklessly just because I am angry!”

Taehyun bitterly muses, “You’re right I don’t get it. I’m just an exiled nobody, right?” You sigh frustrated, “I never said that. You’re so insensitive. Get over yourself, Taehyun.” A manic laugh escapes his lips, “Get over myself? No, you should get over yourself, sweetheart.”

A pang of hurt flashes in his eyes and he seethes, “I’m trying to fucking help you and you’re lashing out at me? Can’t you see I want to help?” He was lashing out at you! You cry out, emotions overwhelming any rationality within you, “Why? Why do you care so much? We barely know each other. If you find me so insufferable-“

Taehyun snaps, “So caring for you now is a mistake?” Your heart feels as though it’s going to tear into two. “No, I-“ you sigh. Perhaps you were wrong to get so defensive. He had no obligation to care about you, to even ask how you were. Taehyun wanted to stay with you to help. You compose yourself.

Shakily, you murmur, “I’m…I’m sorry, Taehyun. I didn’t mean any of that. I just…” Taehyun’s gaze melts for a second as he huffs sitting back down beside you, “Whatever.” A tensioned silence ensues. Guilt consumes you.

You never wished to argue with him. You drawl out fatigued, “Maybe consigning myself to fate is easier. Fighting back only causes more pain.”Taehyun snaps lowly, “Don’t say such stupid shit like that in front of me again.” You glare, “What am I supposed to do then?” Another round of silence occurs as Taehyun’s brain churns its gears.

After a minute or so, he murmurs, “Escape.” You ask confused, “What?” “The palace. Escape the palace. Go on the run?” Taehyun emphasises with a glare. You snap lowly, “Are you insane?” That was an absurd idea!

“We can’t stay here. We’re trapped otherwise. We have to be out of Beomgyu’s sight. We’ll figure it out; we just need to be out of here,” Taehyun takes both of your hands with a determined gaze. “To where?” You ask, peering down at his hands squeezing yours. Taehyun’s eyes shake as he thinks, “The Woods of Mors. Back to my abode. Remember no one in Fortuna knows you’re with me.”

That was indeed right; no one knew that you escaped through the tunnels and then made your way to Luna through the Woods of Mors, even more unlikely that you stumbled upon the exiled sorcerer. Why would they check a place where he was presumed dead?

You glare; your own brain working hard, “What about Beomgyu, genius?” Taehyun scoffs irritated, “Minor details. Yes, Beomgyu and Soobin know I was exiled to the woods. So what? You think they’d expect us to return to Fortuna?”

That’s right! Why would you go back to the place you were trying to be on the run from? The most likely would be they think you’d go to, was another nation or hide out somewhere in Luna.

Taehyun murmurs, “I know there’s no guarantee that they won’t check back in the Woods of Mors. But it’s our best bet; we can’t trust any other nations. If they somehow do find out, we’ll handle it. We’ll get out of it somehow, princess.” His voice is impassioned and you feel guilt; he had more determination and desire than you to win.

His fierce expression is oddly pretty in your eyes. The way he looks at you for a response; a touch of desperation in his eyes. Uneasy, you whimper, “I don’t know…that feels like a bad idea.”

“What choice do we have? Beomgyu betrayed you. You think he’ll just let us leave of our own free will, just because you say, no?” Taehyun scoffs, removing his hands. You huff crossing your arms, “I thought you’d be smarter than this.”

“Marry him then; not-not- that I care or anything,” Taehyun spits out with a huff. You grab another cushion smacking his shoulder making him grunt. His expression is infuriated; your eyes scan over his pretty features. Your heart becomes warm at the sight.

Taehyun peers over at you, meeting your gaze. “What?” You find your lips twitching to form a smile. “You’re really caring, you know that. Getting this angry on my behalf. Don’t deny it.”

A slight hue of embarrassment floods his features as he dismisses you, “What did you expect? I’m not an emotionless brute?”

You snicker, “Mm, I suppose.” The tension between you two eases. You murmur, “If…we succeed,” you notice he’s deep in thought. “If we succeed, I will overturn your exile.” Taehyun’s eyes widen and he mutters, “Don’t make false promises, princess.” You glare, “I mean it.” He snaps his head to gaze at you; your eyes lock onto each other. Taehyun’s eyes glimmer; he looks truly touched.

“So, you have a plan, right?” You ask, peering away solemnly. “Yes, I do. It’s risky. Very risky. Involves my magic and lot of preparation.” Your heart pounds anxiously. “Do you trust me? Trust me to get us out of this?” Taehyun asks seriously. Your gaze melts, “…I do.”

“I won’t betray you. That’d be the last thing I’d do. Because I know the pain of it. So rest easy, sweetheart,” Taehyun murmurs, still not removing his gaze from yours. Your heart feels heavy.

“I know,” you affirm softly. You bite your lip tearing your gaze away from his. Your heart palpitates rapidly; what was this breathless feeling? His eyes flicker down to your lips briefly.

“Sorry,” he mutters awkwardly, “For being so rude earlier.” You find yourself smiling.

You peer back over at him, your eyes drifting down his face and his torso. Your mind drifts back to the hug he gave you yesterday.

“Can I…Can I hug you?” You tentatively request. His eyes widen; a soft hue of red, blossoms of his cheeks ever so subtly. Clearing his throat; he outstretches an arm behind you, “Come here.” You spy his reluctant expression and can’t help but smirk to yourself. He was not so cold; but truly a man with a giant heart.

You nestle into his arms leaning your head against his chest. You’re surprised to hear his heart hammering in his chest. Was he anxious? He rests his other arm around you, muttering, “Take whatever time you need.”

Perhaps that was his way of saying, he didn’t want to let you go out of his arms. Or maybe you were just wishful in your thinking. After all, why would he be interested in you, a noble, a figure he despised?

An odd sense of comfort fills the both of you. You go to thank him for the hug but he seems fine just to hold you. His embrace felt warm; you felt safe. Taehyun peers down at you and notices you looking back up at him with your gorgeous eyes, clinging to him. The sight was incredibly endearing.

Hugs weren’t so bad, Taehyun surmises. He wasn’t much of a verbal comforter. A hug would do for now. For how long? However long you wanted.

You wonder what goes on his mysterious mind; did he have similar thoughts to your own? How you wished to dissect and unravel the many layers of Kang Taehyun. You note he had comforted you all today; he stuck beside you with no intention of any reward.

Yet, you never cared to ask about his past fearing the worst reaction but also focusing on your own predicament.

“You understand my position, being betrayed,” you state. He drawls, “I do, very well in fact.”

“If the Royal Court has unfairly convicted you, I want to fix it. If my family has wronged you, I want to know.” Your genuine words startle Taehyun.

“Taehyun,” you croak out, “I want to know what happened to you and your father.” Perhaps, it was unfair to ask, but you wanted to ease his bottled up emotions. If he could be there for you, you wanted to be there for him too.

“Sweetheart, you’re playing a dangerous game, here,” Taehyun warns with a frown. You whisper, “I know.” You knew you’d get a ‘no.’ He was a man with high walls and stern boundaries.

“Fine,” he utters shakily taking you by surprise. “I think…I’ve kept you waiting for long enough.” You stammer, “I’m not forcing you-“

Taehyun gives you the most gentle smile you’ve seen from him, “Relax, sweetheart. I feel ready.” He smirks softly, “Aren’t you curious?” He muses, “Consider my pitiful story, something to fall asleep to.” You scoff, “No way.” You part from him as he leans his back against the end board of the bed.

Shakily, he hums, “Oh, you’re in for a long ride.”

Oh, pretty sorcerer; what was your story?

Taglist: [open]

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mixtape-racha · 7 months

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it's a scream, baby! bonus chapter #1

chapter: the date is set - hyunjin and felix centric

words: 895 // warnings: cursing, derogatory language, discussions of violence, mentioned reader (not present)

“so, lix,” hyunjin mused, breaking the silence in the flat. the movie they had been watching finished nearly half an hour ago, and they had sat quietly on their phones since - not wanting to move. “you like (y/n), huh?”

felix chuckled lightly, a contrast to the deep blush rising on his face.

“is it that obvious? i know you guys have that weird situationship thing going on, but i just can’t help it.” he replied, refusing to look up from his phone and meet his friend’s stare. the tall boy could be very intimidating, felix had to admit. especially when it came to (y/n).

“i can’t say i blame you.” hyunjin chuckled, moving swiftly across the room to tuck himself onto the same sofa that felix was residing on. “tell me, how much do you like her?”

felix was confused, and also slightly aroused in the same breath. hyunjin’s demeanor had completely shifted, and he was looking at felix like he was something to eat. was this a trick question? was he going to tell (y/n) what felix said so they could laugh at him together?

“i don't know, jin…” felix shifted, laughing awkwardly. god, maybe he was a freak.

but hyunjin just simply smiled, in a cocky yet kind of reassuring way. “i’m serious. tell me all about it, i’m curious.”

“well, i just,” felix took a deep breath before continuing. “she’s perfect. she’s so kind, and never lets anybody feel left out. she’s always there if you need someone to talk to, and she’s try her damned hardest to help you fix a problem. her smile lights up every room she walks in, and you just can’t help being drawn to her. she’s just…. she’s perfect, hyunjin. i don’t think i’ve ever wanted anybody this bad. i’d do anything for her…. i’d do anything to her.”

felix was rambling at this point, not fully in awareness of the words tumbling from his lips.

“she’s the one girl i think about, day or night. i think about her when i see a cute plushie in a store. i think about her when its a rainy day and i get an urge to build a pillow fort. i think about her, most of all, in the middle of the night. god, i’m so disgusting. she’d hate me if she knew that i jerked off to her every night, that she’s the only fantasy that can make me cum. if she knew the reason i haven’t fucked anyone yet is because i want her to be my first… she’d hate me”

“actually,” hyunjin smirked, tongue in cheek as felix finally looked at him. “i think she’d be rather flattered. she thinks about you too, you know? she’s always had a soft spot for you.”

felix opened his mouth to reply, shock and embarrassment drowning his features, but hyunjin raised a hand to stop him.

“you said you’d do anything for her, right?”

felix nodded, his soft hair bouncing with the action. he truly would, anything she wanted.

“like what?”

“anything she wanted. anything she needed. god, i’d die for her. i’d live for her. fuck, i’d even kill for her.”

hyunjin’s eyes lit up at felix’s last sentence, in a way that had the younger boy’s stomach churning.

“would you know? do you mean it, lix?”

though he was slightly fearful of what hyunjin’s words implied, he nodded. whatever hyunjin had in store was sure to benefit (y/n) in some way - everything he did was for their shared friend - and felix would rightly go to the ends of the earth for her.

“then i have a proposition for you. don’t agree lightly - take this seriously, because the second you commit, you can’t back out.”

felix didn’t even realize he was leaning forward where he sat, almost hypnotized by hyunjin as he waited for his friend to continue.

“have you not noticed how much the others boys are all over our girl? how they act like the own her? and the way people talk about her on campus for being friends with us? it’s not on, lixie, and i think we need to do something about it.”

his words had felix gripping onto his seat, ready to follow anything he had to say. no one could treat their girls like that, she was theirs. no one else's. and anyone who had something bad to say about they deserved what they got, he reasoned.

“what d’you say we show this town not to mess with her, hm? i know you’re not opposed to a bit of violence… come on lixie, say yes. for (y/n). let's eradicate them for her.”

felix’s heart was hammering in his chest. hyunjin’s word were true - he was known for getting in fights during their first year of college. some so serious he opponent ended up in the emergency room. anything to let off a bit of steam, is how he excused it at the time. was he still that person? would he really go and kill in cold blood? but for (y/n).... nothing could stop him.

he locked eyes with hyunjin, the taller male smiling menacingly when he recognized the look in felix’s eyes, and waited for him to respond.

“why don’t we start with that bitch heejin? i never liked whores who ran their mouths, anyway.”

taglist: @pretty-racha @chubbyanarkiss @queen-klarissa @queenfelix @taeriffic @mits-vi @myeg1993 @demetrisscarf @chanssmiles @5kayzee @skz-streamer @iweirdthingsblog @sinforsuccubus @bunniie0325 @torixx80 @fawnpeaks @bangtanmix73 @savluvsmingi @boi-bi-ahaha @moondustmemories @4evrglow @marrivmel @littlepotatooooo @carpioassists @comet-falls

#mixtape-racha #mixtape-racha fic #it's a scream baby-fic #iasb-fic #hyunjin fic #felix fic #bonus chapter #hyunjin x felix #hyunlix fic #stray kids fic #skz fic #hyunjin x reader #felix x reader #stray kids x reader #skz x reader

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inthedayswhenlandswerefew · 1 year

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North To The Future [Chapter 8: Crash And Burn]

The year is 1999. You are just beginning your veterinary practice in Juneau, Alaska. Aegon is a mysterious, troubled newcomer to town. You kind of hate him. You are also kind of obsessed with him. Falling for him might legitimately ruin your life…but can you help it? Oh, and there’s a serial killer on the loose known only as the Ice Fisher.

Chapter warnings: Language, alcoholism, addiction, murder, discussions of sex, actual sex (18+ readers only), near-death experiences, health crises, hospitals, questionable tattoos, trout with Trent.

Word count: 6.7k.

Link to chapter list (and all my writing): HERE.

Taglist: @elsolario @ladylannisterxo @doingfondue @tclegane @quartzs-posts @liathelioness @aemcndtargaryen @thelittleswanao3 @burningcoffeetimetravel @b1gb3anz @hinata7346 @poohxlove @borikenlove @myspotofcraziness @travelingmypassion @graykageyama @skythighs @lauraneedstochill @darlingimafangirl @charenlie @thewew @eddies-bat-tattoos @minttea07 @joliettes @trifoliumviridi @bornbetter @flowerpotmage @thewitch-lives @courtenbae @tempt-ress @padfooteyes @teenagecriminalmastermind

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“He broke up with me.” Kimmie hasn’t taken a single sip of her Miller Lite. She’s staring right past you and Heather, her eyes glassy puddles shimmering with reflections of multicolored Christmas lights. It’s Monday, December 13th, and Dale’s stereo is playing Queen’s Thank God It’s Christmas. You’re in the usual booth and waiting for the boys to get off work. Outside the frosted windows is an ocean of darkness punctuated by narrow aisles of murky streetlight luminescence. “He actually broke up with me.”

Heather snaps her fingers in front of Kimmie’s face. “Uh, Kimmie, Earth to Kimmie, yeah, can you give us a little more exposition, please? When exactly did this happen?”

“Yesterday,” Kimmie says, slightly more present now. “He’d been weird since the hike, super depressed, super boring…he wasn’t even interested in doggie style, and he loves doggie style!”

“Boundaries, Kimmie,” Heather pleads.

“So he called me to come over last night and I went to see him and he was…like…sitting on his couch with his hands folded in his lap like it was a freaking job interview. And he explained that he thought I was totally great and that we’d had a lot of fun together but now he had to break things off for personal reasons.”

“Wow, personal reasons, wow,” Heather muses. She doesn’t turn to look at you, but she does kick your boot under the table. You pretend not to notice.

“Wow,” Joyce echoes wryly, flipping a page in her current fantasy novel. There’s some stately prince on the front cover: crown, sword, shield, long flowing hair like a river of white gold.

“I don’t even care that much,” Kimmie realizes as she’s saying it. “I mean, it was nearing its expiration date anyway. I’m going to get back together with Brad, Aegon’s going to presumably resume sleeping his way through Juneau…or maybe try out taking a vow of celibacy, who knows, he’s been very monkish the past few days. He can be fun sometimes, and I like him, and I wish him all the best, but there’s no future for us. I just realized that he’s the first guy who ever broke up with me instead of the other way around. It feels…not great!”

“Congratulations, you’re a mortal,” Joyce says, not looking up from her book.

“So you wouldn’t care if Aegon got with someone else?” Heather asks Kimmie innocently. This time, you kick Heather. She winces but bites back a hiss of pain.

Kimmie considers this, finally taking a swig of her I’m-a-cool-girl-who-likes-hockey-and-trucks beer. “No, probably not.”

I won’t do it, you vow to yourself with false stoicism, imagined iron you wish you were really made of. I won’t date him, I won’t sleep with him, I won’t fall in love with him. And yet part of you already knows it’s too late. Part of you knows this as if it’s been inked to your skin like the scrawled, secret entries of a journal.

Ursa Minor’s front door bangs open, and what you see when you turn to look doesn’t make any sense. Rob and Trent—both dripping wet, their hair plastered flat to their heads, their boots squeaking on the hardwood floor—rush inside. There are shouts and gasps and people leaping up out of their seats to get a better look. Trent is carrying something over one of his lumberjack-broad shoulders. He kneels to throw it down onto the floor. It’s Aegon: limp, bluish, unconscious.

“Someone call somebody!” Trent bellows. He’s staring down at Aegon in panic, in terror, not knowing what to do. Beads of water run down his face. “An ambulance or 911 or a helicopter…or…or somebody!”

“Got it!” Dale says, darting for the phone behind the bar. Kimmie is shrieking. Joyce is trying to calm her down. And by then, you’re on the floor beside Aegon feeling for a pulse on his carotid. He doesn’t have one. He’s cold and he’s silent and he’s medically dead.

“He fell,” Trent says franticly, helplessly. “We were bringing the boat into the harbor and he got tangled in a net and fell overboard. I pulled him out, but he was underwater for a while and we couldn’t…we couldn’t wake him up…”

“Aegon?!” you scream, shaking him, slapping him across his icy, vacant face. “Aegon, wake up, wake up, please wake up!”

Heather is next to you. “What can I do?”

“Help me get his wet clothes off. Hypothermia.”

She yanks at his boots, his socks, his jeans. “You know how to do CPR, right?”

“Yeah, on a dog!” Still, you have to try. How long can he go without a pulse until he’s braindead? Four minutes? Five? The cold might buy him extra time, but not much. Minutes. You rip off his red flannel shirt; buttons go careening across the wet floor. As you place your palms over his heart, you notice—fleetingly, dazedly, like sloshing through a dream—that he has a scattering of scars on his chest, gashes and punctures and knicks…and two tattoos. There is a dragon spiraled around his right collarbone. Just below his left, there are three words written in light, graceful cursive: I’m a killer.

You start chest compressions. How many am I supposed to do on a human? Ten? Twenty? You can’t remember. You’re sobbing; you aren’t sure when that started, but it’s in full force now. Heather mops the tears from your face with her sleeve so you can see.

He’s going to die, you think. He’s going to die lying on the floor of this bar in his boxers, and he will never tell me anything again, and he will never see his family again, and he will never get better. The channel killed Jesse and now it’s killed Aegon too.

“Is he dead?!” Kimmie yelps from across the room. “Please tell me he’s not dead!”

Heather hurls back: “You’re going to be dead if you don’t shut up! Let her work on him!”

You tilt Aegon’s head back, lift his chin, pinch his nose shut. Then you exhale into him. You can taste the dark ancient salt of the sea on his cold lips…but beneath that there is rum as well. He shouldn’t have been drinking that much at work. He doesn’t usually. What’s different? What’s been bothering him? But you think you know the answer to that.

There’s nothing, nothing, nothing…and then Aegon’s chest rises and he rolls onto his side, choking out torrents of seawater and gasping for air. People are cheering and chattering, but you barely hear them.

“Oh my god!” you cry out, and if you were sobbing before now you’re properly bawling, breathless and hysterical. It’s uncontrollable, you can’t seem to stop. You cling to Aegon as he shivers violently and peers around with half-open, profoundly confused blue eyes, warming him with your own body heat, turning his flesh from blue to white to pink.

“Go get coats and stuff to warm him up,” Heather says to Trent, shoving him away. And you do actually need coats…but also, you think, Heather is trying to get rid of her brother. Because it should be obvious to anyone what’s going on here; it should be obvious to anyone that you’re in love with this white-blond man on the floor who not so very long ago was a stranger.

“Hey, hey,” Aegon rasps, pawing clumsily at your face as if to comfort you, almost poking your eyes out in the process. And then he asks, with genuine confusion: “What the hell are you crying about?”

You start laughing, tears still streaming down your cheeks. “You, idiot. I’m crying about you.”

“I’m fine, Appletini,” he croaks. “Shh. Shh. Stop. No crying.”

“I thought you were dead, I thought…I thought…”

“I’m not that easy to kill,” Aegon says, his eyes dipping shut. Outside in the blackness somewhere, there are sirens whirling. Trent returns with an armful of coats and together you pile them on top of Aegon, burying him in a tomb of L.L.Bean and Patagonia and The North Face. “Trust me. I know.”

~~~~~~~~~~

Obviously, the hospital won’t let Aegon have rum and Cokes. He pushes his morphine button almost constantly, even though the doctors and nurses tell him he’s already maxed out. They began by keeping Aegon overnight for observation, and then he developed pneumonia, and then the first type of antibiotics didn’t work and they had to play roulette until they found one that did. Now it’s a full week later—December 20th—and Aegon is finally feeling like himself again and is due to be released tomorrow. Sunfyre has been staying with you and your parents. He loves it, he gets constant attention and enjoys gazing out the window to see if his new best friend the cow moose will show up. Meanwhile, Trent has convinced his boss Rusty—another high school classmate of your parents, another hulking bearded specimen of the enmeshed Juneau ecosystem—to let Aegon keep his job despite the extended leave; Trent even managed to get Aegon paid time off for the first five days. This is all rather heroic of him. It makes you feel bad for thinking he might be a serial killer. If Trent knows that Aegon was drunk on the job, he hasn’t mentioned it to anybody.

“I got you something,” Aegon tells you when you get off work. It’s just after sunset, the last whisps of pink and lilac dusk vanishing from the sky. Things have been slow at the vet clinic as Christmas draws near, which is good in that you can leave early and visit Aegon more often. It’s bad because you’re less busy, less preoccupied; you have all the time in the world to think about him. Aegon is propped up in bed on pillows—his hair slicked back from his face, his eyes sleepy and racoonish—and wearing a hospital gown that’s too big for him. You can see his collarbones and his tattoos, though you’re trying very hard not to stare, to wonder. He points to the table beside his bed. There’s a bouquet of blue roses lying there.

“For me?!”

“For the person who literally brought me back from the dead? Yeah, I don’t think it’s too extravagant.”

You give him one of the hot chocolates you bought from the hospital cafeteria. It’s not as good as his, obviously, but it’s better than nothing. He clutches the Styrofoam cup with both hands, steam rolling up into his face. He inhales the scent, closes his eyes, sighs deeply with a smile. “I hope they aren’t stolen,” you say about the roses, only half-kidding.

“They’re from the gift shop. I dragged myself down there after lunch. They really weren’t that expensive, I think the cashier gave me a still-attached-to-an-IV discount.”

“Was she cute?”

“She was eighty years old.”

You laugh and sit down in the chair beside his bed, sipping your own hot chocolate: thin, watery, weak. You admire the roses, threading velvety cerulean petals through your fingers. “I love them, really, but I wish you wouldn’t buy things for me. I know you’re chronically short on money. And I am somehow skeptical that you have health insurance. Do you have health insurance?”

He grins toothily. “Nope.”

“Aegon,” you lament.

“It doesn’t matter. They’ll bill me, I’ll never pay, it’s all made up.”

“You might need a halfway decent credit score one day.”

He shakes his head. “I’m never going to try to get a mortgage. I’m never going to apply for a job at a bank or a law firm. I’ll be fine. I’ll live in a tree if that’s what it takes.”

You rest your palm against his cheek and then his forehead, checking for fever. His skin is warm but not hot, pale but not bloodless. You can feel his eyes on you, trying to catch your gaze like a hook through a fish. You avoid them.

“How do I look, vet lady?”

“I’m not really qualified to evaluate humans.”

“I don’t want to get better.”

Now you do stare at him, direct and mystified. “Why?”

“I’m worried you won’t be nice to me anymore.”

You chuckle, relieved. “I’ll still be nice to you, Aegon.”

“You promise?”

“I promise.”

A nurse pops into the room, young and springy and jovial like a kitten. She must be new; you don’t recognize her, and you’ve been here a lot. “Good afternoon, I’m just swinging by to take your vitals. I see you’re scheduled to go home tomorrow, how exciting!” The nurse squints down at the chart she has pinned to a clipboard. “Aegon…?”

He smirks long-sufferingly. “It’s Greek.”

“It’s lovely!” the nurse recovers. She measures his temperature and heartrate and blood pressure, his reflexes and his oxygenation. He passes all inquiries with flying colors. She congratulates Aegon on his recovery and flits off to tend to more needy patients. You think of the nights you’ve spent curled up in this chair, listening to Aegon’s labored, rattling breathing and watching blooms of flare-hot crimson fever creep across his face. You think of how much it’s going to kill you to lose him someday. You find yourself staring at his tattoos, ink that someone else put there in some other city, remnants of the life he had before.

“You can ask,” Aegon says. “I’m sure you’re wondering.”

You set your hot chocolate on the table and move closer to him, ghosting your fingertips over the words: I’m a killer. He jolts a little, although not in a bad way, not in an unwelcome way. He doesn’t lean away from you. In fact, he leans in. “What’s up with that?”

“Would this be an awkward moment for me to confess that I’m the Ice Fisher?”

You smile. “You have to admit that it’s a little weird. There’s a killer on the loose, you have a tattoo that says you’re a killer, I think any reasonable observer would have questions.”

“Kimmie didn’t.”

“Reasonable observer, I said. Reasonable.”

“It’s not a confession. It’s a Johnny Cash lyric.”

“Really? Which song?” You know a fair amount of Johnny Cash thanks to your dad’s extensive vinyl collection. You skim through his discography in your head: Walk The Line, Ring Of Fire, Get Rhythm, Folsom Prison Blues, I Got Stripes. You can’t remember any of them having that line. It circles around in your skull, only sounding like Aegon’s voice: I’m a killer, I’m a killer.

“I’ve Been Everywhere,” he says. “It’s a cover, actually. Some other guy did it first. But I didn’t know that when I got inked. And I loved Johnny Cash’s version when I heard it. It was like my theme song.”

“Ohhh, right, that’s the one where he lists all the cities he’s been to, like Reno, uh, and Chicago, and, uhhh…”

Aegon sings, deep but hoarse: “Fargo, Minnesota, Buffalo, Toronto, Winslow, Sarasota, Wichita, Tulsa, Ottawa, Oklahoma, Tampa, Panama, Mattawa, La Paloma—” He breaks off with a coughing fit.

“Stop,” you beg, laughing. “Stop, you’re going to hurt yourself.” You trace the cursive letters lightly. I’m a killer. I’m a killer. “Kimmie never had questions about that?”

“I don’t think Kimmie really sees me. She just sees adjectives in the shape of my silhouette. But you…” He puts his hand over yours, pinning it to his chest. You can feel his heart under there somewhere, beneath muscles and bones and a pitch-black sea crawling with monsters that have evolved to live in the extreme gravity, in the depths: ghosts of the past and sirens of the future. He smiles. “You see a lot.”

“20/20, baby.” You study his scars. They’re random like a scatterplot, none large enough to appear life-threatening. “How did you get these?”

“Car accident. A long time ago.”

“Before you left Miami?”

He gazes absently out the window, where snow is falling. You can see it drifting down to the earth in the gloomy beams of streetlights. “Yeah.”

Now there are new lyrics bubbling up in your mind, not anything by Johnny Cash but Cake’s The Distance. No trophy, no flowers, no flashbulbs, no wine, he’s haunted by something he cannot define. And perhaps you know something about what that feels like. “Do you really think I’m a coward?” you ask softly. “I know you’re trying not to lie to me. So I’m hoping you’ll tell me the truth. You might be the only person who will.”

Aegon pauses before he answers. “I think a lot of people are cowards in one way or another,” he says diplomatically. “And I think that if that’s your greatest flaw as a human—that you don’t want to disappoint your parents, that you don’t want to hurt them, that you want to repay them for being so wonderful when there are people out there who beat and murder their kids—you turned out alright.”

You think of how easy it would be to rest your head on his bare, scarred chest and let him hold you. You think of how much you want that, want it in a sudden and ravenous and unbearable sort of way. “Thank you,” you whisper.

“No problem, Appletini.”

There is a knock on the door, and you jerk away from Aegon. You pick up your hot chocolate and slurp it as you sink into the chair. Aegon laces his hands together and wrings them. Trent walks in. “Sup, bro?!” he pipes cheerfully.

“Bro,” Aegon offers in return. They bump fists.

“You look like you’re feeling better.”

“I definitely am.”

“Still getting let out tomorrow?”

“Yup. Like a prisoner who made parole. Kimmie already offered to drive me home.” Then he adds: “Platonically.” Kimmie’s the only one in the friend group without a real job. Her parents are both university professors—you aren’t sure how none of the genius chromosomes made their way down the genetic Plinko board to her, but they didn’t—and she gets paid to be their ‘research assistant’…which means she works rarely and with no accountability whatsoever.

Trent’s eyes dart to you, to the blue roses, to you again, finally back to Aegon. He’s beaming, but there’s something hollow about it, like if you struck him across the face it would crack like porcelain. “Flowers, huh? That’s dope.”

“Yeah, I figured it was the least I could do since she saved my life and all.”

“She’s fantastic,” Trent agrees proudly, like he owns you. “In fact, that’s kind of why I’m here.” He turns to you. “I called the house and your parents told me I should check the hospital. I wanted to…you know, now that Aegon’s basically better and we all know he’s not gonna die…I wanted to take you to dinner tomorrow.”

“Dinner?” you repeat, stupidly, like you’re unfamiliar with the concept. “Tomorrow?”

“Yeah, someplace nice. Candlelight and fancy dessert, the whole deal.”

A date. That’s definitely a date. You stare at Trent. He stares at you. Aegon frowns at you both, pressing his knuckles to his lips. “Dinner,” you say awkwardly, but with more conviction. “Totally. Dinner would be nice.”

“Awesome!” Trent thunders. “I’ll pick you up at 8?”

“Sounds good!” you say with overcompensating enthusiasm. Trent swoops in for an unexpected hug—nearly spilling your hot chocolate—and gives Aegon a parting fist bump. Then he’s gone.

“I owe him,” you explain to Aegon, speaking quickly, nervously. “He saved your life, he fished you out of the channel like a goddamn salmon. He’s responsible for you keeping your job. He’s getting you paid time off. He’s been around the hospital a lot this week, he’s been so helpful, selflessly helpful…I can’t just tell him to fuck off after all that.” And then you say: “But it’s only dinner! Only one dinner!”

“Need some condoms?” Aegon teases, trying to make you smile. It works. “I have a box I’m not currently using.”

“I’m on the pill.”

“Good to know.”

“I doubt your condoms are horse-sized anyway.”

“Hey hey hey, it’s not about the number of inches, it’s about how you use them.”

“I’ve heard some very interesting things. About your inches, I mean.”

“Oh no,” he groans, covering his blushing face with his hands.

“I didn’t say bad things. I said interesting things.”

“I wouldn’t mind you knowing from firsthand experience,” he says with a sly little grin you can’t quite read. It’s playful, it’s sharp, it’s baiting, it’s sad.

“About what?”

“About my inches.”

You both burst out laughing, so hard Aegon launches into another coughing fit. You reach for him instinctively, pressing your hand to his chest again as if you can cure him, not a palm reader but a faith healer. A miracle worker. A professional fixer.

“You think it’s safe?” he asks, seriously now. “Dinner, I mean. With Trent.”

“I think he’d have a hard time strangling me in the middle of a crowded restaurant. And everyone’s going to know we’re hanging out together tomorrow night, he’d have to be more than stupid to kill me. He’d have to be all brainstem, like an alligator or a shark. Besides, he doesn’t want me dead.”

“I know. He wants you to be his wife.” There’s nothing to fill the uneasy lull but the pounding of your own heartbeat. “Call me,” Aegon says abruptly. “When you get home tomorrow night. So I know you’re okay.” So I know you didn’t get murdered. So I know you’re not at the bottom of a lake somewhere.

“What if it’s not until really late? I don’t want to disturb you while you’re recovering.”

He looks out the window: into the frigid void, into nothing. “Still call me.”

~~~~~~~~~~

Trent takes you to the Red Dog Saloon, Juneau’s idea of fine dining. You intentionally dress to look not-sexy: dark blue flannel (you’ve warmed to the fabric since Aegon wears it so much) with a T-shirt underneath, jeans, boots, minimal makeup, hair in an I-really-don’t-care messy loose braid. Trent doesn’t seem to notice that this isn’t supposed to be a date. He’s wearing a button-up maroon shirt and khakis. He chats away blithely as you survey the menu. He’s had the servers bring out candles to put on the table. He’s ordered craft beers for you both. You wrinkle your nose and shudder after each thick bitter sip, chasing the beer with desperate gulps of water. Whoever owns the Red Dog Saloon does not share Dale’s devotion to Shania Twain and Christmas music; the stereo is playing Savage Garden’s Crash And Burn.

“Ready to order?” the waitress asks, casting former-football-star Trent a flirtatious smile just in case he’s single. He is! you mentally shout, hoping for telepathy. He just doesn’t know it!

“Yeah,” you begin. “I think I’d like to try your brisket—”

“Oh no, no no no,” Trent says with a chuckle. He flips his hair; in your head, you hear a neigh. “They have a great special. Trout with risotto. How fancy is that?! I don’t even know what risotto is! We gotta try that. We gotta make tonight special.”

“Okay. Yeah. Sure.” You give the waitress a tight smirk as you hand her the menu. “The trout special. Two of them, I guess.”

“You’ll love it,” the waitress promises, tossing Trent another smile like a penny into a fountain. She takes both menus and disappears into the kitchen.

“So,” Trent says, drinking his beer. “I didn’t know you liked Aegon so much. I thought you kind of hated him, actually.”

You shrug, peering into the foam of your unwanted beer. “I don’t like to see anyone suffering. It doesn’t matter who.”

“That makes sense, I guess.”

“And you encouraged me to get along with him because you want him to stay in Juneau so he can be in your band.”

“Oh yeah, right. Okay, never mind. I was just…curious.” Another hair flip.

“Look, Trent…” You gather your courage like raking up autumn leaves. “We’re friends, right?”

He chortles. “Well, I’d like to think we’re a lot more than that.”

I bet you would. “But we never…like…we never put a label on it, you know?”

“Do you need a label?” he says. You had worried he might be mad; instead, he’s amused. You aren’t sure why that makes you feel worse. “Is that what makes it official, us using the words boyfriend, girlfriend, relationship, whatever?”

“Maybe those words don’t really apply to us, and that’s why we haven’t used them yet,” you try hopefully. “Like, if we were supposed to date, it would feel more natural for us to date. But maybe it doesn’t feel so natural, so we’re better off staying friends.”

Now he puts his beer down and stares at you. The glass thumps against the glossy wood. He’s bending towards you, though you don’t think he’s even aware of it; he props his elbows on the table, his brow crinkling in bewilderment. And there’s something else in the lines of his face too. Anger. Indignation. Betrayal. “You want to be friends?”

“I didn’t say that,” you amend swiftly. “I just said maybe we’re better off as friends.”

He slaps his palm against the table—you flinch, hating that he has that power over you—and laughs in amazement. “I’m just…well, I’m shocked! You’re fine with kissing me, and watching movies in your bedroom, and hanging out all the time, and getting drinks together and playing pool and showing me off to your parents, but you’re horrified by the thought of calling it dating?! You’re too much, ladybug. You’re really too much.”

He's going to pretend he doesn’t see that I want out. And he’s going to keep pretending until he’s on his knees with a fucking ring from Zales. “I don’t think I’m looking for a relationship right now, Trent. With anyone.” Oh, and that’s such a goddamn lie.

“Seriously?”

“Seriously.”

He studies you; but that’s too kind a word for it. His eyes flay you down to the bone. “I’m a good guy, you know.”

“I know,” you lie, nodding agreeably.

“You’re not eighteen anymore,” he says. “It’s not like you have forever to find someone to settle down with. I go to work, I’m popular, I’m presentable, I care about you, I take you on dates, I move your furniture around whenever you fucking ask me to, I’m a good guy. I get that maybe this is progressing a little fast for you, and we can slow down if that’s what you want. But I think it would be pretty stupid to give something like this up. Don’t you?”

It doesn’t sound like a question. It sounds like a threat. Don’t you? Don’t you? “You’re right, Trent,” you hear yourself say, like it’s someone else’s voice. “I’m sorry. You’re right.”

The waitress arrives with your dinner and—not so subtly—slips Trent her number. He makes a great show of ripping it up in front of you. The trout and risotto thing is great, actually. It’s not what you walked in wanting, but it turned out just fine. And maybe that’s what the rest of your life will be like too: other people making choices, you hoping you’ll like the taste.

After dinner and dessert—a Baked Alaska, another of Trent’s suggestions that are more like nonnegotiables—he drives you home in his massive rumbling truck. You talk innocuously about your vet clinic clients, dogs and cats and hamsters and reindeer, until you roll to a stop in front of your parents’ house. You begin your goodbye, opening the truck door. Cold December air floods in.

“Okay Trent, thank you for a lovely night—” He cuts you off with a kiss he didn’t ask for, a hand on your face that feels hot and smothering. You’re so stunned it takes you a few seconds to try to push him away. He ignores you until you shove him so hard he can’t pretend not to notice.

“What are you so worried about?” he demands, he implores, like he’ll fix anything if you just name it, like he’ll strike the nails with his bare hands. But he can’t fix what’s wrong. What’s wrong is that I’m in love with Aegon Targaryen. “Are you scared I’ll be bored of you once you give it all up? Are you worried about getting pregnant? Aren’t you on the pill? I saw the pack in your bedroom.”

You’re nauseated that he noticed, that he’s imagined you like that: naked, compliant, vulnerable. “Yes, Trent, but that’s for me, not for you.”

“Then what’s wrong?”

You tell him the truth. Not the whole truth—not enough to enrage him—but the crux of it: the spine, the heart. “I always thought I knew exactly what my life was going to look like, but now I’m…I’m…”

“Well this is what comes next, right?” Trent says. “You check the boxes for school and work, and then it’s time to settle down. Get married, buy a house, have kids. I’m ready to give you that. I want to give you that. Don’t you want it too?”

Aegon is going to leave, you think with steel-cold dread. Sooner or later, he’ll disappear to start over again in some anonymous new city. And what will my life look like then? What will I have when he’s gone? “I guess I just need some more time to figure things out.”

Trent nods, his jaw clenched tight, looking out into the darkness through his windshield. “I’m not criticizing you for waiting. I’m just wondering what the hell you’re waiting for.”

Inside the house is hushed and empty; your parents are enjoying a night out with your dad’s bowling league. They even took Sunfyre with them. You drag yourself upstairs, each step a mile. You brush your teeth—twice—to get the taste of Trent and craft beer out of your mouth. And then you stand in your bedroom surrounded by posters and magazines, surrounded by fantasies that you will never wrap your hands around. You glance at the box full of Jesse’s journals; you can see the cardboard edge of it poking out from beneath your bed. He’s gone, and he wasn’t perfect, in fact in many ways he was a curse, was a plague, was a monster. But I think my mom would give anything for one more day with him. After all these years, I still think she would.

The blue roses Aegon gave you are in a vase on your nightstand, right next to the phone. They’re already dying. And now your throat is burning, and your eyes are wet with tears, and when defenseless sobs rip from your chest there is no one here to hear them. I don’t want to protect myself from what it would have been like with him. I want to know.

You snatch up the phone, find the Post-it note with Aegon’s number written on it, call him before you have time to change your mind. When he answers, it’s clear you woke him up. His voice is slow and groggy. “Hello?”

“Can I come over?”

“Huh…?”

“Can I please come over? I need to come over. I need to come over right now.”

Now he’s awake. “Yeah, yeah, of course. Are you okay? Where are you?”

“I’m at home, I’m fine, I’m safe, I just…I just…” You swipe the tears from your eyes and take a long, trembling breath. “I just need to come over.”

“No problem,” Aegon says. He is puzzled, he is concerned…but you think a part of him is glad too. “I’ll see you in ten minutes.”

You drive your Jeep to his apartment building and park it—badly, crookedly, like he would—under a streetlight. The night is fiercely, brutally cold when you dive out into it. The full moon is an island; the indigo, star-flecked sky is an ocean deep with secrets and bones and wreckage, splinters of swallowed lives dissolving into the blue. Upstairs, Aegon’s door is already unlocked. He’s wearing a black Nirvana T-shirt and green flannel pajama pants, his hair disheveled. He’s also making hot chocolate.

“Hi,” he says casually, filling the mugs. He adds splashes of French vanilla coffee creamer—plus some 99 Whipped for his green mug—and swirls of whipped cream, then shaves on a generous dusting of Hershey’s chocolate. He gives you the blue mug. You take it in quivering hands. “You alright?”

“Yeah. I’m fine. I’m amazing.”

“Okay.” He waits, patient and watchful, sipping his hot chocolate.

You feel better after a few minutes tick by. Aegon’s apartment is serene and still. The tv is dark; there’s no music, no voices, no distractions. You can barely hear the screech of the Arctic wind outside. The only light turned on is the one in the kitchen; the rest of the apartment is shadows. The hot chocolate is warm, rich, comforting, safe. “How are you feeling?”

“Pretty great,” Aegon replies. “Normal.”

“Good.”

“Yeah.” He gazes at you, still waiting.

You finish your hot chocolate and put the mug in the kitchen sink. You take your hair out of your braid and shake it loose, surveying his apartment with aimless steps: his couch, his guitar, his litany of refrigerator magnets, his unmade bed. Aegon sets his mug down on the counter and crosses his arms over his chest.

“Appletini,” he says. “Why are you here?”

You turn back to him, but you can’t find your words. It’s on your face, it has to be; it’s in a language Aegon can speak fluently. You see the understanding flicker in his eyes like firelight: sudden, bright, exhilarated.

“Say it,” he prompts. “You have to say it, or I’m not going to believe you.”

You try, you really do try. But you can’t get the words to leave your lips. You don’t know how to put what you want from him into words at all. Anything, everything.

He smiles, softly like a whisper. “Me first, huh?” Then he begins undressing. He yanks his Nirvana T-shirt over his head—further tangling his hair—and tosses it across the room. He slips off his pajama pants, and then his boxers too. He’s standing there in the florescent kitchen light, flesh and ink and track marks and scars. “Okay, your turn. If you’re still interested.”

“I want you to do that part.”

He crosses the scuffed hardwood floor, his footsteps quiet. His fingers find the top button of your flannel shirt. His eyes are fixed on yours as he unhooks the first button, another, another after that. He leans in to press his lips to your throat, just beneath your jaw. Slowly, exquisitely slowly, he kisses his way down to your collarbone as he unfastens the rest of the buttons and gently pulls off your shirt, letting it fall to the floor. He slips his hands below the hem of the T-shirt you’re wearing underneath and lifts it away, his knuckles grazing your belly, your waist, your ribs, the lace of your bra. And then he cradles your face in his hands and kisses you with exceptional, reverent slowness, like you’re something that could shatter. You can’t reconcile this man with the sort of wild acrobatics that Kimmie had described. And then you’re not thinking about Kimmie at all. The past is a black hole, the future is an empty sky. There’s no room in this lightning-brief sliver of eternity for anyone else.

You breathe him in: sweetness, warmth, the bite of alcohol, fire and shadows and light. He unbuttons your jeans, unzips them, kneels down to peel them off of you. He touches his lips to your thigh—first the outside, then the downy-soft inside—and hesitates for a moment before he stands to kiss your lips again. His hands skim across your bare back towards the clasp of your bra, raising goosebumps like twilight stars. And then again, he hesitates. His hands come back to your face, his fingertips calloused but lithe.

“You’re nervous,” you murmur, smiling. You tuck his escaped lock of hair behind his ear, pressing yourself against him: hips, chest, soul. The sapphire blue lace of your bra and panties rustles across his skin. You can’t get close enough to him; it’s not possible, it’s not fathomable. He’s holding himself back, you can tell. He’s panting with the effort. In the midnight silence, you can hear every sound he makes with crystalline clarity. The moonlight pours in, painting you both in ghostly silver light.

Aegon chuckles shakily. “I am,” he admits.

“I think you’ve done this once or twice before.”

“Yeah, but not with you.”

“I want this,” you say, your lips to the curl of his ear. His skin is hot with eager, rushing blood. “And I want you to be the one to set me free.”

Something snaps in him, something breaks like a wave. Your bra tumbles to the floor, your panties are whisked away, you and Aegon are on the bed together tangled up like arteries flush with life. There is a breathless sort of desperation in it: in the way your fingers intertwine, in his gasps and your moans, in the sustained pleasure—so intense it borders on pain—that causes euphoric tears to spring up in your eyes, in his deep, startlingly powerful thrusts that begin slowly and then build to a furious rhythm. And you know then that he agrees, it’s not possible to ever get close enough to each other; but still, you resolve to try.

“Look at me, baby,” Aegon whispers as you arch into him and you beg him not to stop, his palm turning your face towards his. “Look at me, look at me, look at me…”

You unravel like thread torn from a spool until its empty, like a mystery, like stitches clipped from a healed wound. There’s an insurmountable sort of peace that follows it. Nothing is okay, and yet everything is, and you can conjure up no words but only colors: the white of snow, the indigo of the night sky, the gold of the rare unclouded midday sun, the ethereal green-violet glow of the Northern Lights. Aegon empties himself inside you, crying out and kissing the side of your face over and over again, tasting heat and salt and your unnamed love for him. You can feel the serenity settling over him as if it’s your own pulse slowing, your own mind cleared like the horizon after a storm. You are irredeemably etched into each other. You are two sides of the same coin: too weightless, too rooted, unable to leave, unable to stay.

As you lay side by side in the moonlight, your fingers tangled in his hair, Aegon says: “You are the only thing that’s ever made me want to stop running.”

“You could stay. I want you to stay.”

“For a while.” He pulls you against him. You rest your head on his chest: ink, scars, slow thudding heartbeat. His fingertips draw invisible paths up the length of your spine. “Not forever. But for a while.”

She’s hoping in time that her memories will fade.

“I don’t want to have to forget you,” you whisper, your voice breaking.

“Not yet,” Aegon vows. It’s the only promise he can make. He kisses your forehead, sweeping the tears from your cheeks with his hands. “Not yet.”

#aegon x you #aegon targaryen x reader #aegon ii targaryen #aegon targaryen #aegon ii #aegon x y/n #aegon targaryen x you #aegon targaryen ii #aegon targaryen ii x reader #aegon ii x you #aegon ii x reader

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tofueggnoodles · 18 days

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Saiyuki Novel by Minekura Kazuya/Misagi Hijiri (published by G-Fantasy / Square Enix in 1999): Introductions and links to translations of the Drama CDs

This post was inspired by @miss-fiery’s musing on Sanzo’s seemingly unlimited supply of bullets. 😁

As stated on the Saiyuki fandom wiki page, the novel consisted of three volumes. Interestingly, I have always thought of each volume as a separate novel.

Why? The plots are independent of each other. To understand and enjoy the stories, you do not need to read the novels (or volumes) or listen to the Drama CDs in order.

Now, on to the introductions and my brief thoughts on each volume.

Volume 1: Kaen no Zanmu

Goku rescued a baby in a wooden crate floating down the river (sounds familiar, right). Hakkai got rid of a salamander youkai who turned up to claim the baby as his prize. On closer examination, the Ikkou discovered that the baby possessed red eyes and hair.

They entered a nearby town, only to be greeted with hostility by the townspeople. It turned out that the town had a pact with a youkai, a different one from the youkai that Hakkai had killed. Each household were to send a member as a sacrifice to this youkai. Otherwise, the town would be attacked by the youkai.

The Ikkou met the baby’s young aunt, Rikei, who told them that she intended to send her nephew to the youkai again. The penalty for not sending a sacrifice was a wholesale massacre of the household. Moreover, since the baby’s parents were dead and she was his sole surviving relative, she reasoned that the baby would not survive anyway if she were to offer herself as the sacrifice.

The Ikkou, or rather, Goku, came up with a ‘brilliant’ plan to save both the baby and the town.

The hanyou baby served as a plot device and to highlight Gojyo’s and to a lesser extent, Sanzo’s pasts.

Translation of the Drama CD by KonnyakuHonyaku can be found here.

Bonus: Horiuchi Ken'yū played the unfortunate salamander youkai who met his end at Hakkai’s hands.

Volume 2: Kyouka Suigetsu

A bloodthirsty mass-murderer seemed to be making their way toward Chang’an. Several nearby villages had already been wiped out at the start of the story. Because of the gruesome way the victims were killed (torn apart as if by a youkai’s claws) and Hakkai’s past, the monk-enforcers tasked with investigating the murders considered him the prime suspect.

Goku befriended the sole witness to one of the mass murders, a boy called Yoku, who seemed to still be in shock. Yoku had no idea how the murderer looked like. He only remembered hearing the unseen murderer utter the word ‘Kanan’....

Meanwhile, Gojyo had to deal with a hostile new housemate whom Hakkai had brought home one rainy night. Sanzo was away on a mystery mission from the Three Aspects, a mission apparently unconnected to the case of the mass murders.

Hakkai’s past is the focus of this volume, which also explained how he met Hakuryuu/Jeep and why our lovable little dragon seemed to have two names.

Translation of the Drama CD by Anthey Oom can be found here.

Note about this translation: There are places that did not make sense to me until I listened to the corresponding sections in the Drama CD and realized that those translations were technically correct, if one were to substitute the phrases with their homonyms. My guess is that the translator did their best in a pre-jisho.com era. Although their grasp of Japanese did not seem to be as good as KonnyakuHonyaku’s. the mistakes are understandable, since Japanese is rife with homonyms.

[As an aside, virtually all subtitling projects of Japanese (TV) Dramas today employ Japanese subtitles, which can be machine-translated to English and then checked manually. One has to be very brave and foolish (or a die-hard fan) to translate by ear these days. I am still looking for a machine-translator that can handle Drama CDs and do not require installations on a Linux/Unix machine or expertise in Python. DeepL and Google Translate might work with short sentences but not an hour worth of dialogues. Until then, I am slowly translating some favorite BL Drama CDs in my free time, averaging 1-2 minutes worth of dialogues each night....]

Volume 3: Rasen No Koyomi

Having run out of bullets, Sanzo asked Hakkai to make a detour to a small town, where an old blacksmith acquaintance lived.

During the drive to the town, we hear a juicy tidbit from Hakkai about how Gojyo narrowly escaped a forced marriage. Later, we get more insight into why it is a bad idea for Gojyo and Goku to room together, at least, bad for the proprietor of the inn.

The flashbacks reveal an adventure of Kouryuu’s not long after he left the Kinzan temple. Wounded after an encounter with some youkai and having lost his consciousness, he woke up in the dwelling of a strange man, who sardonically replied to Kouryuu’s curt question of “You are?” with: “What do you want to know about me? Age? Name? Or my type when it comes to the ladies? My three sizes?” 🤣

Back to the present, after an apparently humdrum walk, Gojyo returned to the inn with a guest. The problem is, only Hakkai and Sanzo were able to see the guest, at least in the beginning....

The focus of this volume is obviously on Sanzo, but 39/93 fans will enjoy the tender moment between Sanzo and Goku near the end.

Translation of the Drama CD by KonnyakuHonyaku can be found here.

You can download the Drama CDs here, courtesy of @seiten-taisei.

#saiyuki #minekura kazuya #drama cd #最遊記 #translation

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stevenbasic · 8 months

Text

GITJ Post 340: A Saturday at Melissa's. p15 (11:18 pm)

I was laying in Melissa’s lap, her hand idly stroking my hair as we were apparently waiting for someone to bring me a cup of milk. She wanted to settle my stomach before bed, and forgive me I was just so enthralled by this gorgeous young woman (and exhausted by my evening) that I didn’t complain at all. Yeah, it was emasculating, embarrassing, even infantilizing, the treatment I was receiving. Certainly it was not the actions and behavior a semi-successful, almost-middle-aged physician should be engaging in around his employees. This whole day - though for some reason I only seemed to remember bits and pieces of it, - was full of misbehavior. But,goddamnit, I’d had a tough couple months so I was, uh…allowing myself these indulgences. After my divorce, these young women were becoming my friends, my new, uh, social circle. Melissa was a simple girl, and I thought I should be able to enjoy the simple pleasures she could provide and the, um, benefits of my new friends. That’s, at least, what I was telling myself. In reality the memories of even just the last hour or so in Melissa’s bed made my skin crawl a bit. What had she just done with me?? I knew she was strong but…whoah.

Since I’d woken she’d cleaned me up, dutifully, using some of the wet wipes she kept in her side table. She’d allowed me to gather some sheets around myself, in a modesty that she would call silly. Someone was on their way up and the last thing they needed to see was their boss naked, right? Melissa was still in her thin white robe, pulled tight over her young, bulging chest.

It was Shanette that came in, finally, with mug of milk in a strangely familiar pink mug. She shut the door behind herself, the latch clicking softly. In a set of pink pajamas, decorated with red hearts, she looked our way and smiled warmly. “Are you guys ready?” she asked, and began to step towards us.

“Yes!!” Melissa sang, wriggling a bit in her seat against the headboard of her queen-sized bed. She adjusted me on her lap a bit, sitting me up a touch. I brought my hands down to the sheets, making sure I was still covered.

“I brought a nice warm cup of milk for youuuuu…!” Shanette cooed, in a little song herself that already began to indulge my deepest fantasies. Shanette, more than any of the others, embodied a maternal charm that struck some deep chords within me. They were notes so many women around me were learning to play, but Shanette knew the tune well already, and with her now being more than six feet tall at this point and built nearly as bosomy as Melissa, it made her music hard to ignore. She was, just like Melissa, a dream girl to men of this new generation, who all seemed eager to relax, regress and let mommy take over. What she and her new boyfriend did together? I shudder to think.

She handed the mug to me. It was warm, as if it had been heated for me and it read, “It’s Not Easy Being Queen” on its side…again something that jogged a memory. But I didn’t have too long to muse on Melissa’s Mom’s coffee mug collection before - one hand behind my head for support, the other under the mug - Melissa urged the milk towards my lips. Laying in her lap like I was, I was sort of in an awkward position to drink but she was here to help.

Mmmmmm it smelled nice, the warm milk, and once more a sense of deja vu hit me. I felt the sudden, unconscious urge to take a nice big drink opening my mouth wide only to be stymied before I could even get a taste.

“Little sips until it cools,” Melissa stopped me, hand taking hold of the mug from below.

“Yes hun don’t burn yourself,” Shanette agreed, looking down at us from the bedside. She and Melissa shared a glance, and it was only when I nodded in understanding that Melissa slowly released her hold on the cup.

More carefully, now, I put lips to rim, tilted the mug up, and took a tentative sip. Mmmmm wow, it tasted great. Like, somehow, just what I needed. A familiar taste, an unusual brand maybe, something with a particular type of sweetness. Immediately I wanted more. I looked up at Melissa. “I-it’s not that hot…” I said.

“Shhh,” Melissa said, her hand once again under the mug to help guide it, “Just be careful.” She let me take a sip, a drink, and then under her and Shanette’s dutiful gaze I braved a small gulp.

I spilled a bit.

“Tsk tsk,” came Melissa’s little scold, as she used the hem of her robe to dab my lips and chin. I shrank a bit in embarrassment in her lap as she took the mug in hand again.

“Do you want to help me feed it to him?” Melissa asked Shanette.

“Of course!”

“I-I’m okay..” I immediately protested, though Shanette had already begun to climb onto the bed anyway. First with one knee, then the other.

“Here why don’t we use this…” she suggested, reaching back and taking hold of the plastic straw in the old cup of milk on the nightstand leftover from last night. As she turned, twisting at the waist and causing her pajama top to bunch and tighten around her chest, I was able to appreciate the size of her big breasts. She turned back around, slid the straw into the mug of milk, and Melissa presented it to me again. I looked up at her.

“That’s right, sweetie,” Melissa urged, “Suck.”

“Suck?” I asked.

“Suck,” answered Shanette, crawling in closer to us and leaning in now, directing the straw to my lips. The little red hearts of her silken pajamas were right in front of my eyes, stretched tautly over twin swells. She was obviously braless, with the faintest hint of a nipple poking through the thin fabric. Cleavage of chocolate skin peeked out from her neckline, beckoning softly. Her buttons strained to contain her, gaps appearing between each of them with slivers of shadowed, deeper cleavage tempting me further. So much boob, but if I turned to my right I was faced with even more - Melissa’s enormous chest ballooned above me in her white robe.

And so I sucked, mmmmm, the warm milk through the straw, enjoying its creamy sweetness that tasted like a memory. When had I grown to like milk so much? Something you’ve taught me, I guess.

Suck, suck, suck. I pulled eagerly at my drink, cheeks collapsing around the straw in suction. With nowhere else to look my eyes drifted naturally from the chests of Shanette to Melissa and back again. Suck, suck, suck.

“There you go, that’s a good boy for Auntie Shanette,” Melissa would coo, when my eyes went forward to the stretched red hearts.

“…and for Melissa…” said Shanette, when I looked back and up.

“…for all of us, for me,” continued Melissa, “for your big mommy-girlfriend.”

At that, my eyes went wide, my mouth parting from around the straw. Shanette giggled, chest jiggling, and reached in to caress my cheek.

“Tell him, Missy,” she said.

Melissa giggled herself. “That’s what I want to be,” Melissa purred, fingers lazily caressing my hair, my scalp, the back of my head, “your mommy girlfriend. Do you know what that means?

“You do, don’t you?” Shanette queried. Yes, it was a common trope these days, one you read about frequently. Just a look at Urban Dictionary will tell you that a mommy-girlfriend is a woman that dates men who love being treated like an incapable child. These men are treated to home cooked meals, their clothes are bought or picked out for them, their rent is paid and food is served to them on a silver platter. When she gets home from work she uses her seemingly endless available time to listen to his problems and concerns and makes sure that her boy-man is taken care of. To me, it seemed that more and more women were desperate to find secure love and were happy providing this sort of affection to these immature men. Being fully supported and controlled by a woman can make a man feel safe, and in these weird times it’s probable that they’d never leave.

“I, uh, yeah…” I agreed, shamefacedly. Was this me? Was this her?

They both saw the confusion on my face. “I want to teach you how to accept it,” Melissa offered gently, “Shanette’s here to help.”

“Wh-wh-??” I tried, failing to really comprehend what was going on.

“Shhhh, hun,” Shanette stopped me, moving the straw back to my lips, “Drink up.”

And so, with a bit more anxiety forming on my brow, I set back to sucking. More milk, more warm milk filled my mouth and fed me sweetly. The girls, for their part, cooed and clucked down at me dreamily, surrounding me with their softness and entrancing perfumes. I knew Melissa and Shanette had been roommates in the past. Was this something they’d done before? With other men? Was this some sort of weird, intimate game of theirs?

“You’re getting close to done now, aren’t you sweetie?” Melissa asked, as the mug had grown light.

“I think he is,” answered Shanette.

“I think it’s so sexy,” continued Melissa, with a crinkled nose and dimpled smile, “watching you drink breastmilk.”

I sputtered, I goggled, I looked up at Shanette.

“Shhh shhh shh…it’s not hers..!” Melissa laughed. My eyes got even wider and shot up to her with even greater fear. “Or haha, omigod mine!”

Jesus!!! Her assurance brought me some thin relief that nonetheless quickly vaporized. What the actual fuck! What…whose…had I been drinking?!?

“It’s Katarina’s,” Melissa explained, voice calm, “And don’t worry, you’ve had some before…”

?!!? Gah what?!?!

“Don’t you remember?” Shanette giggled.

“N-n-no..!” I sputtered, “I honestly don’t!” But, wait…did I?

“You really liked it…”

“When did-?”

“Earlier tonight, sweetie,” Melissa continued patiently, “when you were a little out of sorts, you took a little taste.”

“From…?!?” Please don’t tell me that I…!

“...from a mug, this same one..!” Melissa laughed, “Don’t worry!”

“Lots of us did haha!” Shanette followed, “The girl makes enough to feed a whole family. We had to try it!”

”But, I have to say,” Melissa smiled, “you seemed the most eager, little man…”

“Oh my god…” What the?!!? What had come over me? Had I been drunk?? Why couldn’t I really recall-

“Maybe somebody took some video…”

“And Kat really liked seeing you drink it,” Shanette said, “All the other girls loved it too.”

”Especially me!” Melissa sang, joggling me on her lap, up and down, “It gives me so many fun ideas…” She giggled, she wiggled her chest at me.

I realized, laying there, how much I had become the shrunken recipient for all of their heightened maternal impulses, for all of these mommy-urges women were apparently getting everywhere. Yes, yes, this was the trend in the world, the hot new thing, and apparently I was becoming a victim of fashion. What the fuck was I supposed to do? It was, in the end, ridiculous but…jesus…so fucking hot.

Shanette and Melissa urged me to drink more.

“It’ll make you big and strong.”

“Or small and skinny.”

“Haha omigod shorter…”

“…weaker…”

“…tiny…”

“…just like we want you!! <giggle!>”

Oh, lord. Yes, they were just joking but goddddd. Suck suck suck. They were joking they were joking they were just joking but my heart beat red in my face.

Finally, I was done. The girls, apparently, were satisfied. Shanette took the mug, turned again to put it on the nightstand.

Melissa stroked my bare chest. ”So,” she asked me, “Bedtime?”

Before I could answer, though, Shanette had leaned in to whisper something to Melissa. Her eyes widened a moment later, and they both looked down at me and giggled.

What’s going on? “What’s going o-?”

Suddenly, I was forced silent as Melissa raised a finger to her lips and gave me a shushing motion from above, peering down at me in good humor. Good humor that made her eyes sparkle when she saw how easily she’d shushed me.

“Go brush your teeth,” she told me, already moving to help me sit up onto the mattress from her lap, “You can use the one in my bathroom.”

My eyes went wide again. “G-go brush my teeth? With y-your toothbrush?” I responded as I sat, repeating her instructions like a small child struggling with what he was told to do, simple as it was.

A brief laugh came from them then a bigger smile formed on Melissa’s face. “I would brush your teeth myself to make sure they’re cleaned properly,” she said, in her best house-frau voice, “but I’m holding back…for now.” She watched my face. Yes, I’m listening. “But you are to brush, floss and use mouthwash.”

“Ok, but…” I looked at Shanette, I looked down at myself, I looked across the room to where the bathroom lay. Then I looked back at Melissa. “I’m naked.”

The girls both giggled.

“It’s okay, hun,” Shanette offered, “I’ll close my eyes.” Mischief wrinkling her dimpled cheeks, she lowered her long-lashed lids and put her hands over her eyes.

“Now go. Scoot,” Melissa directed me, pulling back the sheets and exposing me as she pushed at my lower back from behind, “Go brush your teeth. It’s bedtime.”

Hopping off the mattress - god, my feet don’t even touch the floor - I jogged across the room towards Melissa’s en-suite bathroom, my half-thickened cock slapping awkwardly against my thighs.

“No peeking!” I heard Melissa scold her friend from behind me, and the two dissolved into frisky giggles.

Once in the bathroom I immediately grabbed a bath towel and wrapped it around my waist, and soon I had found her toothbrush, some toothpaste, and I was scrubbing away. It didn’t, strangely, strike me as too odd that I was using someone else’s toothbrush. Normally: yuck, right? But maybe after all I’d been through, this was just a small irregularity. In fact…can I taste you on it? It…it felt nice, using her brush.

Anyway, maybe because I thought they were watching me (they told me not to close the door) I felt extra motivated to do a good job. Brush brush brush, brush brush brush. And then - floss, floss, floss. I never flossed, but tonight I did. And then - garglegarglegargle - mouthwash! Haha, done.

I stepped back out of the bathroom, confident in my newly cleaned oral cavity, and froze. They were both kneeling on the bed, facing me, side by side. Shanette’s top was unbuttoned, Melissa’s robe undone. They were posing, enormous chests presented. I was just in a towel, and fuck I was getting hard again.

“Come here, baby,” Melissa cooed.

“We need to check…” said Shanette.

“… that you did a good job,” finished Melissa.

Slowly, I stepped towards them. They waited, each unmoving, and looked down at me when I found the mattress’ edge. It was like two impossibly built, statuesque genetic supergoddesses were gazing down from on high.

“Say ahhh!” Melissa instructed, taking my chin in hand.

I opened. “Ahhhhh….” I said, as wide as I could.

She inspected me, looking carefully into my mouth. “Do you want to see, Shanette?” She turned my head gently towards her friend.

“Ahhhhhhhh…”

Shanette nodded, also pleased. “Good job, honey.”

“Yes, good job,” Melissa agreed, “Now, are you ready to get some sleep?”

“I’m…uh…yes, ready.” Is she going to be sleeping with us?

Shanette's hand went to Melissa’s tit and she pressed her fingers into it, sinking them into soft flesh through the thin white robe. “Don’t worry hun, you’ll have her all to yourself,” she said, as Melissa giggled, “Your pillow is going to be so soft and so warm. It’ll support you just right.”

“I-I-I, uh…”

“It’ll help you nod off…”

“…and make sure you have sweet dreams all night,” Melissa continued. My eyes being clearly fixated on her left tit as it made even Shanette’s big hand look small only added to her amusement. But, she was now scootching backwards, and laying down in bed, onto her right side facing me, supporting her head with one hand. Her big breasts still bulged between the open flaps of her robe. “What kind of dreams do you want to have?”

“I bet he’s been having them already,” Shanette offered as she reached down to offer me her hand. I took it, and she helped me climb up into the tall bed.

“Maybe…” Melissa mused, watching me get settled next to her, as Shanette helped me lay, on my back, aside her. She saw that I had my hands crossed, awkwardly, on my chest, my head on a pillow and dwarfed by the boobs that looked just to my left. . “Do you, sweetie?” she asked, “Do you dream about me?”

Yes of course I do.

“Want to make those dreams come true?” Shanette said and then - getting a silent nod from Melissa - laid down on my other side, also facing me, also positioning her big soft breasts right next to my head.

I looked to my left: Melissa. I looked to my right: Shanette. Each way, all I could see was cleavage, bulging boob. Creamy, tanned. Chocolate, milky. Floral, vanilla, coconut perfumes and oils filled the warm air around my face.

Shanette also had her head supported by her hand, left elbow up on her pillow. “Does the little man need some boobie time?” she cooed.

“Shanette’s going to help me make your dreams come true,” Melissa said to me, “Just tell us what you want…”

They inched in closer to me.

Unable, now, to find the courage to do what they obviously wanted - to just turn to one of them and lose myself between their tits - I laid on my back and stared up at the ceiling. The lights were gentle.

“You look so shy, so insecure, so vulnerable…” Melissa said.

“I-I…I’m sorry…” I can’t help it.

“Shhhhh…” Shanette hushed, “…we love it.”

“We’ll protect you,” Melissa whispered.

“You’ll be safe between us,” Shanette assured, as she reached over, over my passively upturned face, and peeled Melissa’s robe open, away from her ballooning chest. I’d turned my face a bit to watch, and moaned in a shudder as a big, white left breast came to view.

“oh my god…” I groaned. It was huge, far larger than my head, skin smooth and taut with a swelling brown nipple and areola the size of my palm. A basketball, maybe? Bigger?

Without a word, Melissa’s arm reached over me in turn, peeling Shanette’s silken top, decorated with hearts, away from her chest. Also huge, also swollen, also bulging towards me with burgeoned softness her breasts were deeper in complexion than Melissa’s but a shade paler than the rest of her skin. Her nipple stood already engorged, the bumps of montgomery glands dimpling her darker areola.

“There, sweetie,” Melissa purred, as I stared into the chest of her big, tall, high school friend, “Do you feel better?’

I…ugh…I I I I turned to Melissa’s breast.

“Oh Missy,” Shanette giggled, “he can’t even talk..!”

“Yeah, he gets this way,” Melissa replied, one finger reaching out to run itself from my forehead, down the bridge of my nose. She tapped its end, playfully. “Boop! Don’t you honey?”

“I-…” I couldn’t say a word.

“Boys really are helpless when there’s a pair of tits in their face, aren’t they Missy?”

“Or two pairs!” Melissa giggled, pressing her left press down with her shoulder, causing it to squeeze and bulge towards me.

“Have you ever been with two girls with breasts bigger than your head?” Shanette asked, “Hm, Dr. J?”

“I don’t think he has, Shanette.”

“No, hm?”

“How do you like it, sweetie?” Melissa asked, raising herself up a bit on her right elbow and turning her torso more towards me. This brought her massive left breast in to squash into my face and head, along my left side.

Shanette followed suit, turning her shoulder down into me and mushing her right boob into my face. Instinctively, my body tensed and stiffened, my head sinking back down into the pillow behind me as far as it could. The twin masses of boob just followed, molding around my face, cheeks and ears until nearly all light was blotted out. I was surrounded by pillowy soft, perfumed flesh, firm and warm. Above me I heard the giggles.

“Look, we can just sandwich you in between them,” Melissa said.

“I can’t even see him anymore Missy,” laughed Shanette.

“Oh no!” came another laugh, this time Melissa’s, “my boyfriend’s disappeared!”

“It looks that way, huh?”

“What’s this like, hm sweetie? Like you’re being attacked by two big marshmallow monsters?”

“Smothered between two pillows?”

“Smooshed under two big balloons full of jelly…or eaten by two big marshmallow monsters?”

“You said that one already, silly.”

“<giggle!> oh yeah!”

Around me I felt hips turn towards me too, as the two bountiful young women closed in closer.

“Do you want me to take this towel off him?”

“Yes please,” answered Melissa.

I felt the air now on me, and now a thigh over mine.

“Ooooh Jay, isn’t this cozy?” Melissa asked, her voice coming to me through the flesh of her chest, “Do you feel safe and warm like this, your darling little head between our big breasts?”

“Just relax,” Shanette cooed, her voice also both muffled and amplified by her huge tit, “Feel our big, soft breasts against your face.”

“That’s right, sweetie, relax,” Melissa urged, as her big thigh now came over my left leg, trapping it, “Melt for us.”

The girls now giggled and cooed, squirming and squashing against me, in perfect unison. Their breasts mushed into my face, surrounding it, my mouth and jaw now opening and closing like a starveling guppy. All the air I breathed came from their skin.

“There’s a certain type of guy, a guy who loves breasts,” I heard Shanette begin saying, musing, “Guys who want to wake up with them as their first sight. Who want to take their first meal from them, spend all day held to them, surrounded by them…”

“Oooo that sounds familiar..!” I heard Melissa laugh, pressing into me playfully, “But aren’t all guys that way?”

“Seems that way these days, huh?” Shanette agreed, “But this one here is yours.”

Above me I heard a deep moan from Melissa turn into a laugh. “Omigod Shanette this is too much!”

“…And at night they want to fall asleep held to them, between them…” Shanette began to finish.

“…so small and tiny and weak…”

“…Are you that type of guy, Dr J?” she finally asked.

Was she…was she actually expecting me to answer? From down here, buried beneath boob? I was not just speechless but unable to speak.

“You are, aren’t you sweetie?” Melissa laughed, the eager exhilaration in her voice plain as day, “You’re my little boob-monkey, huh?”

That’s what you want isn’t it? Me clinging to you like an infant chimp to its mother. I couldn’t do anything but agree. I didn’t dare argue, or god forbid lie. Under the gentle weight of their breasts I slowly tried to nod.

“There you go…” Shanette purred, “…good boy. Isn’t it nice to admit how much you need them?”

“It is, right? And, isn’t it so much better when you just let people help you?” Melissa cooed, “Sometimes it’s nice to just lie there and let someone else take care of you. That’s all I want to do baby, take care of you and make you feel good. Make it nice for you.”

Boob. Boob. Everywhere boob.

“Missy let’s let him out for a minute.”

“Okay…”

Slowly, I felt the squeezing press of their tits lifting off me. Shanette’s breast, smelling of coconut oil, pulled away smoothly. But, my skin felt stuck to Melissa’s, cheek-to-tit, whether by her perspiration or mine. The heat and our sweat must have stuck us together…or there's something else happening. My face followed her breast as my head was lifted off the pillow.

“Oh my god look at that,” Shanette said.

“Yeah and he’s not trying to pull away,” Melissa commented. “Are you sweetie? Ooo look at you…”

It was true: my face remained plastered, stuck to her breast by the cheek. What was this?

“You really like my breasts, don’t you?” she giggled, “Rubbing your cheek against me like that?”

Do you think I’m doing this on purpose? Under my own strength?

“I bet it’s been so long since he’s gotten this kind of attention, Missy, and maybe he just doesn’t want to let you go!”

“Is that it, huh?” Melissa cooed down to me. Gently, she began to lower me back down again, the back of my head resting again on the pillow, cheek still stuck to her skin. “Maybe you’ve never had somebody do this for you before? Hm? Poor baby…I’m here for that now.”

The two girls clucked and purred down at me. I felt Shanette’s hand petting my hair.

“I think it’s time, Missy,” she said.

“Okay, yeah,” Melissa agreed, and then I felt Shanette’s gentle fingers holding my face and Melissa use her hand to peel her breast from my cheek. Shanette then guided me, turning me more towards Melissa.

“That’s right Missy, put your nipple right there. That’s good,” Shanette instructed, as I watched and Melissa positioned herself more fully over me. I was face to face with her big nipple. “You just lie there, hun,” she told me, “we got this.”

“Mm hm, we got this,” Melissa echoed, and inched in closer.

“Now, Missy,” Shanette said, “have him suck.”

Melissa gently worked it in until her nipple was between my lips. I’d opened my mouth already, instinctively, and my world became darker again as Melissa softly dropped to rest her huge breast onto my face. Her right hand no longer supported her head, and had slid underneath mine to cradle me to her. “Here we go, baby,” she whispered, as I closed my mouth around her.

“Just lay there and do as mommy says,” Shanette spoke.

“Suck, baby, suck,” Melissa purred on cue, “suck suck…”

“There you go baby, that’s right…” Shanette purred. I felt her hand petting me gently, caressing my arm. “This is good practice for you two,” she said.

“Mmmm I like it..!” Melissa giggled, as I had begun, earnestly, to suckle her. Her nipple was big in my mouth.

“It’s called dry-nursing,” Shanette said, “Missy…make sure he has a good latch.”

“Yeah, baby, seal on tight there,” Melissa cooed down to me, using her free left hand to reposition the weight of her breast at my face. I settled my mouth and lips around her more firmly, and continued to suck. I was keeping a slow rhythm, relaxed. My eyes just cleared the mass of her breast, and when I looked up I saw her watching me. I closed my eyes again.

“That looks good, Missy,” Shanette commended, “He’s a natural.”

“It feels nice,” Melissa agreed, gazing down at me. “I’ve been waiting for something like this, something to get us closer, start breaking down barriers.”

“That’s right, that’s good. Just relax, the two of you, bond together,” Shanette purred from behind me, “Dr. J, just let yourself drift off, think about Melissa, know how much she loves you.”

“Yes yes sweetie, I do love you, so much,” she cooed, “just keep sucking…”

I felt Shanette’s lean in, her breasts now squashing into my shoulder as she brought her lips to my right ear. “You tried Katarina’s milk earlier,” she whispered, “You liked that?”

I groaned, purrling and mewling into Melissa’s tit.

‘“Think about it, as you suck here on Missy,” she continued, her voice big and close, making my toes curl, “wouldn’t it be nice…?”

I groaned again, my whole body shivering.

“That’s right, that’s right baby,” Melissa spoke, “Suck on me. Suck on me like a hungry baby that needs milk.”

oh god oh god oh god.

“He’s doing so well, but he’s a little worked up,” Shanette now said to her friend, “A little tense.”

“Oh, sweetie, are you tense?” Melissa cooed, her voice sweet and heavy with honey as I dry-suckled her breast, “You poor thing.”

“I bet a nice orgasm would help him relax so much”, Shanette continued, indulgently, and then I felt her take hold of me. “He’s so hard.”

I stiffened, and my body jerked. There was actually some pain but the direct cause wasn’t her actions. Rather it was due to my exhausted reproductive system still trying to perform. It had never worked this much over such a short time period, and it was exhausted, tender, inside and out. I felt like, yes, I needed relief, release, but getting there might hurt.

“Oh, sweetie, shhh…” Melissa purred down to me, “Shanette…be gentle.”

You can tell, can’t you?

“He needs a mother’s touch,” Shanette cooed, and soon I sensed the scent of coconut oil, and things became slick around me, in her hand. Had Melissa helped out? Squeezed something onto me?

And now, rather than encircling me with her palm and fingers, Shanette pressed my erection against Melissa’s bare midthigh. Oh, yes, that feels nice. <suck suck suck>. She began to rub it gently and slowly against the soft, silky skin of Melissa’s tan, clean-shaven leg, the juice of oil lubricating and slippery.

“That’s nice, isn’t it?” Shanette’s hand was slick up and down my long length, Melissa’s muscular thigh warm and welcoming. I continued to suck, to suck, to suck, slowly, slowly, slowly and felt the pleasure seep into my bones. A mother’s touch. A mother’s touch. A mother’s touch.

“You feel so nice, up against my leg,” Melissa cooed, “And you’re doing such a good job sucking at my nipple.”

“Nice and slow, nice and slow,” Shanette purred, and I began to groan. I was sore, yes, but the climax was building already inside my swollen sac, making my belly tremble. “It’s okay, we’ll go at your pace…nice and gentle.”

And then Shanette began to humm, low and soothing behind me, as she pet me into Melissa’s leg . A familiar melody began to form. And then she began to sing. Quietly, at first, but there was something about it, something with a palpable magic:

“When you wish upon a star

Makes no difference who you are

Anything your heart desires

Will come to you…”

“Omigod Shanette…” Melissa praised, seemingly at a loss for words. Her voice, yes, was gorgeous. Shockingly so, in fact. The timbre, the tone, the very essence of her voice was like a casual siren song, and it covered my waking thoughts like a warm blanket. Melissa’s singing voice - she’d sung to me on our first date, in her car - was nice, also, but Shanette’s, here? It struck deep, deep, deep and I felt it close around me and my mind like a gentle hand, embracing me but also opening me up for them. My cock was throbbing now, still being rubbed into Melissa’s thigh by our songstress. She continued softly and slowly with her lullaby:

“If you wish it in your dreams oh my god if you knew what I wanted how big I want you

No request is too extreme <suck suck suck>

When you wish upon a star can it come true?

We’ll grow for you… wait what?

“Shanette that’s lovely,” Melissa gushed, as the magic of the lullaby faded and I continued to dry-nurse at her massive breast and - oh my god, on hearing that last line - I started finally to rut into Melissa’s leg, “I didn’t know you could sing.”

”I didn’t either…”

NNNNNggghhhhh….

I came, in an easy gush, onto Melissa’s leg, all my tension draining away as I nursed myself to sleep…

===============================================

Thanks again to ResistanceIsFutile for helping me through another big one

My Patreon

#growing into the job

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