#squealing at each other and flailing

[shadow4-1]

I'm just imagining being annoying as fuck and the boys decide to fuck with you back.

So they take turns throwing you around to each other. Like, at first you're squealing and flailing but eventually you realize they're not going to drop you and you just kind of give in to their strange punishment.

And, of course, Price chooses to walk into the rec room at that very moment. He just watches over his coffee cup as you're tossed around from Sergeant to Lieutenant to Sergeant.

He turns and leaves. He doesn't have time for this.

#when ur being bad this is how they get you to stop #besides its strength training for them so they dont care lol #call of duty #cod imagines #mw2 #mw2 headcanons #simon ghost riley #cod mwii #john soap mactavish #simon riley x reader #captain price #kyle garrick

[wheels-of-despair]

The Nerd King Cops a Feel Pairing: Eddie Munson x You Summary: Eddie learns something about bras. (He hates them.) Contains: Assassination attempt, Girl Boob, an Eddie Munson First. Word Count: 800ish

Author's Note: This one goes out to all the ladies who look down and sigh every time they encounter one of the many 'Eddie Loves Your Tiny Tits' fics. 😂

Jeez, you accidentally say "Nerd King" instead of "Dungeon Master" one time and suddenly you're running for your life, jumping over piles of dirty laundry and trying not to crash into anything breakable.

Eddie chased you into his bedroom and tackled you to the bed, cackling like a madman. Flailing this way and that, you squealed and pretended like you weren't enjoying the absolute hell out of this.

"Alright, alright! I'm sorry!" He grins at your surrender and collapses on top of you, ignoring your exaggerated groan at having to support his full weight. After catching your breath, you reach up to brush the hair out of his eyes, his chin resting between your breasts.

After a few minutes of staring wordlessly at each other like a couple of lovestruck morons, he rolls to the side and you let out a sharp yelp.

"What'd I do?" he asks in a panic.

"Not you, this fucking bra."

He watches with a puzzled look as you sit up and reach under your t-shirt to take off the offending garment. As you suspected, the underwire had worked its way out during your tussle and stabbed the absolute shit out of you. You angrily fling it to the other side of the room and lay back down, turning your head toward Eddie and being met with a most curious sight.

His eyes are wide. Pupils blown. Fixated on your chest. It suddenly dawns on you that he's never seen you without a bra before. Normally this would embarrass you, but the rage from the garment's betrayal is still pumping through your veins.

"See something you like, Munson?"

He nods cautiously.

"Well, go on then."

His eyes flick up to yours, growing even bigger, which you didn't think was possible.

"I just survived an attempted murder. I need to be comforted."

His fingers twitch, making you smirk. But judging by the look on his face, his brain has turned to mush, so you gently take his hand and move it yourself, placing it just below the place his eyes are locked onto. He's still frozen.

"You still breathing over there, Munson?" you tease. He nods slowly, finally daring to move. Light as a feather, his hand glides upward and splays out, now holding a considerable handful of Girl Boob. Why is he acting like this is his first time? Is this his first time? You watch him silently, a gentle smile on your face as you both soak in the sensation.

He opens his mouth as if to say something, but snaps it closed again when no sound makes its way out.

You try your hardest not to laugh. This loud, filthy-mouthed little horn-dog has been rendered speechless, possibly for the first time in his life. Should you get an award for this?

"Something on your mind?"

One side of his mouth twitches into a smirk.

"Can… no."

"Looking for some under-the-shirt action already?"

"No! That's not-- I don't-- You-- I--"

You mercifully cut him off before he can stutter his way through the alphabet. "'Cause you can. If you want. But you don't have to."

Looking upward for reassurance and receiving a nod of encouragement, he carefully drifts his hand down to the hem of your faded band shirt. Taking his time, his fingertips glide back up the skin of your stomach, stopping at the imprints the band of your torturous device had left. He traces the marks and furrows his brow.

"Bra band. Its mission to slowly suffocate me was taking too long, so it resorted to stabbing."

"Does it hurt?"

"It's not exactly pleasant."

"Why do you wear it?" he asks softly, fingers still lingering on the marks in your skin.

Surprised at his question, you bark out a laugh. He stares at you with his innocent doe eyes and moves his hand north, splaying out his fingers again and holding you gently.

"Are you kidding me? Are you seeing these things? Are you feeling these things?" Your hand comes to rest on his, still under your shirt, and give it a jiggle. He shrugs a shoulder and shifts his eyes downward again. Boys are so dumb.

"Girls with not a lot going on up here," you gesture, "can get away with that. But when they look like this and they're not... contained, it's kind of noticeable."

He looks up at you thoughtfully, then that spark of mischief returns to his eyes. Eddie clears his throat.

"Hear ye, hear ye," he begins in a deep voice, "The Nerd King hath issued a royal decree… that the princess must never wear a bra in his presence again. Refusal to comply will result in a punishment most severe."

"Oh my God," you laugh, rolling your eyes. The Nerd King responds with a grin, removing his hand from beneath your shirt and pulling you to him, then burying his face between his new favorite subjects.

#writings of despair #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x reader #and that's probably the closest i'll ever get to smut #enjoooy

[bagofshinyrocks]

Snow Angels... Kinda

Prompt: Simon is sent outside to shovel the snow from the driveway, and the little one joins him. Whether or not he's of help to his dad is another matter entirely. [Requested by @ertepla]

Featuring: Simon "Ghost" Riley x GN!Spouse!Reader

Word Count: 0.9k

Warnings: expletives

Simon was usually the monument of speed and efficiency. Grocery store runs were completed in less than ten minutes, didn’t even need to call you for clarification. Could get dressed in all his winter attire in about 2 minutes, starting in pajamas and ending in what you called a tactical marshmallow. And the snow in the driveway stood no chance once he whipped out the shovel.

Except when it came to your son.

He had to set a timer when it was time for the boy’s baths, otherwise he and the one-and-a-half-year-old would spend an hour splashing and dunking toys.

Making dinner was still speedy, but if your son was strapped to his chest, both of them would get distracted. The boy would try to stick his hands in everything, and Simon would let him.

“He’ll be pissed off if I don’t let him eat plain flour, and he’ll be pissed off if I do let him. In one of these cases, he’ll learn that he doesn’t like plain flour.”

The little shit kept eating plain flour.

And even if Simon did everything wrong when distracted by your baby (not that he ever did, the perfect bastard), you’d never wish it any different. The gentle side of him was one of your favorite parts of him, and your son had never seen any other.

The pediatrician noted that your baby knew a good many more words than the average kid his age, and you (to Simon’s embarrassment) chalked it up to how much Simon spoke to him.

You heard the rustling of Simon’s winter gear, and immediately your son perked up. 

“Dada?” he shouted.

More rustling and Simon looked in the doorway.

“Wassit, munchkin?”

You watched as the boy scrambled towards him, giggling.

“Do you want to help Dada with the snow?” you cooed, beaming.

Simon scooped him up and plastered his face in kisses. “Aw, little man’s always so helpful.” He glanced at the clock on the bookshelf. “But it’s almost his bedtime, innit? Alright if he comes with me?”

“Please. Tire him out so he’ll go to sleep.”

Simon chuckled and gave the boy a little toss in the air. “Let’s get you all bundled up, yeah?”

Simon took his time to bundle the boy up, with a sweater, a waterproof snowsuit, boots, a hat, a scarf, and mittens. The boy could barely walk in shoes, and you imagined there would be a lot of snow piles with a baby-shaped belly flop.

Simon would get two or three shovelfuls worth of snow into a pile, and then pause to see what the baby was doing. Putting snow in his mouth, and then spitting it out and whining at the temperature. Climbing up or sitting down in the piles. Trying to take the shovel from his dad.

Your husband sat the boy on the blade of the shovel and skidded him along the driveway. You could hear both of them laughing from inside.

Simon was about halfway through when your son tried walking again. Leaning onto furniture worked, but leaning into piles of unpacked snow was not helpful. With a squawk, he fell sideways into a pile.

Your husband turned at the squawk and belly laughed at the scene. Two kicking legs and nothing else.

He walked over and grabbed one of the flailing limbs. The boy’s snowy face came into view as Simon lifted him out of the pile with one hand, dusting him off a bit with the other. 

Normally, a baby would cry. But his dad was laughing and asking his son cheerfully about what he was doing. And so the boy laughed and squealed and clapped his mittened hands.

“Simon Riley,” you hollered from the kitchen window.

He turned with a grin and gave the boy a little swing.

“Don’t you dare drop my damn baby.”

Simon pretended to do so, lowering the boy, and then pulling him back up. Then lowering him, then pulling him back up. Both of them laughed and laughed, and you pretended to gasp each time.

An hour later, the boy was fast asleep in his crib.

“Aw, he snores just like you,” teased Simon.

You swatted him. “Piss off. Good thing it’s not like yours, or the whole neighborhood would hate us.” 

The two of you left the nursery and went to your own bedroom, where two heating pads lay in your respective spots.

You crawled into bed with a quiet sigh, and Simon did so with a loud series of groans and grumbles. You kicked his thigh. 

“You’ve been a dad for a year and a half and you already sound like one.”

“Hell you talkin’ about?”

You imitated the noises he made earlier right in his face, and he covered your face with a pillow.

“My fuckin’ back hurts.”

“The baby’s that heavy that you hurt your back?”

“What? Nah, he’s easy to carry. Could throw him 50 meters. No, the snow is heavy.” He sighed and settled on his back, letting you curl up around him. “And I’m an old man, now, lovie.”

You hummed and closed your eyes, feeling the warmth of his chest through his shirt and the steady beat of his heart. Then his chest jerked up and down rapidly with a chuckle, and you opened an eye in faux annoyance.

“Sorry, lovie, just remembering how he ate shit in the driveway.”

You both snickered at the Loony Tunes-type scene from earlier.

“The driveway is clear, but all the ground around it has his belly-flops and face-plants.”

“They’re snow angels, honey.”

A fresh bout of laughter at the comparison.

Posted: 2023 Dec 11

#simon riley x reader #ghost x reader #simon riley fluff #ghost fluff #cod mw2 x reader #cod mw2 fluff

[norrisleclercf1]

If you write some more dad!carlos (à la the first mini lando headcannon) I will literally throw you a birthday party

A/N: Guess you’re going to have to throw me that birthday party 🥳 also he calls her risita because that means giggle in Spanish and yep she's about 6 or 7

"Papi? Wake up." Carlos smiles, hearing the little whisper of his daughter Zaneta. "I am up risita." He grumbles, rolling over his daughter yelps. (giggle)

Her little arms and legs flail as she tries to push him off her. "Papi...crushing." Carlos chuckles, knowing he wasn't crushing her. He had no weight on her, she was his princess. "Risita, what are you doing up so early?" Rolling to the side, Zaneta catches her breath.

"Mamá is running errands and I'm bored." She whines, giving him puppy dog eyes. "I see what your mother means now." He groans. Zaneta had his eyes, and whenever they went wide and blank he was a sucker.

"Papi, I'm hungry." Carlos sits up, climbs out of bed and slides some pants on. "Come here." Swinging her up, she laughs her tiny arms and legs sticking out before wrapping around him.

"Did you sleep good?" Carlos asks, pushing hair out of his face. "Yes, did you?" She asks, resting her head on his shoulder. "I did risita." Smiling down at her.

She was his little girl, and he cherished these moments more and more as she grew. "What would you like for breakfast?" Placing her on the counter, going to the fridge. "Tortilla." She giggles as Carlos shakes his head. "An omelet? What? Risita, it's my day off and you want to eat healthy?" He chuckles pulling out the eggs.

"With cheese and bacon." She orders, Carlos turns raising an eyebrow at her. "Please." She adds, voice soft as she knows manners are big with her mother and father. "Good girl." Kissing her head, he lifts her off the counter, watching her run off.

He starts cooking, frying up the bacon you walk in taking a deep breath smiling. "Smells good." Mouth watering at the greasy food. "Looks good too." Pinching his ass, Carlos flinches away but laughs seeing you.

"Morning." Leaning in he kisses you, but a resounding eww has the two of you pulling apart. "That's yucky." Zaneta's face scrunched up in disgust. "Oh? Then is it yucky when Papi and I kiss you?" Raising an eyebrow at your sassy daughter.

"Get's that from you." Carlos whispers, you slap his shoulder prying a smirk out of him. "No, you're the drama queen. Wanna revisit your Ferrari days?" Carlos immediately stops, knowing you have proof everywhere.

"Nope, because Mamá and Papi are supposed to kiss me. Not each other." She quips, running back to her toys. "We need to limit her time with Lando." You whisper knowing if Zaneta heard that, she'd throw a righteous fit.

"I agree." Carlos flipping the bacon, the sizzle the only sound. "Go, I'll finish this." Pushing Carlos off the stove who smiles. "She's been missing you, go play with our daughter." You don't have to tell him twice as he plops himself next to her.

Laughter and food fills the house. This is what Carlos wanted in his future. Whenever people asked, he'd say a world championship and winning all the time. When really, he just wanted a family to always come home to with laughter, good food and love.

And he has that.

"Papi?" Carlos hums letting her place a tiara on his head. "Can I come with you to the next race?" She asks, smiling putting beads around his neck.

"Yeah? You want to see your Papi win?" He asks, Zaneta didn't really like the races more interested in running around with other kids and seeing the team principles to sucker them out of candy, sometimes money. "No, I miss Uncle Lando." Her innocent confession has Carlos freezing before chuckling unable to be mad.

"Yeah, you can come with me risita." Squealing she hugs Carlos, before running to kitchen to tell you the news.

Yeah, this was much better than a championship. Though he already has 2 of them.

#f1 #formula 1 #f1 fandom #f1 x reader #f1 x y/n #f1 imagine #formula one #f1 scenario #carlos sainz imagine #carlos sainz jr one shot #carlos sainz f1 #carlos sainz junior #carlos sainz blurb #f1 blurb #dad!f1 #dad!carlos #f1!dad #f1 x you #f1 x female reader #carlos sainz fluff #f1 fluff #f1 one shot

[johnpriceslamb]

heyy is it okay if u maybe due a little story of arthur morgan?? i jus love him sm

arthur comes back to camp after a job in a bad angry mood since it didnt go to plan then the reader (being his sweetheart gf) cheers him up :(🩷 -🎀

𝓐𝓛𝓦𝓐𝓨𝓢 𝓕𝓞𝓡𝓔𝓥𝓔𝓡 , ˗ˏˋ 🍓 ˎˊ˗

˗ˏˋ꒰ The obvious annoyance which swelled in his stomach almost dies instantly when he makes eye-contact with you. ꒱ ˎˊ˗

BEFORE YOU PROCEED! ┆female ! reader . hyper-fem ! reader . Arthur Morgan is a die-for 4 his sweetheart gf . OOC ! Arthur Morgan . reader is mentioned 2 be physically shorter than character mentioned below . not proof-read . 1.0k wrdz

꒰ arthur morgan x fem ! reader . ꒱

Muddy, wet, icky.

Sweat easily adheres to his already warm skin, rolling down the creases on his forehead and clinging to the ends of his hair. His clothes are attached to his sweat-stained skin, rusty spurrs jingling loudly with the leading sounds of water-filled boots. The sun glares down at him, taunting him even, to make his day even more miserable as it scorches the back of his neck because of the hat; lack thereof- lost from travelling back.

He’ll go find for it soon enough. Just not now.

It’s unlikely for a usual stagecoach robbery to go wrong, he’s done this many times before. Maybe he was starting to feel the effects of ageing. But somehow, things went south a bit too quickly and the man ended up in.. water. With many dead bodies floating around, and cash that wasn’t even worth it at the end.

Just thinking about that whole situation almost makes a vein pop in his head.

A grunt and a low huff escapes his chapped lips when entering the vicinity of the camp. The same water-filled boots squeak each step he took as he storms back to his bed-roll. Everyone knew he was in a bad mood, despite being far away.

Unfortunately for him, someone could not take the hint.

Miss Grimshaw.

“Mister Morgan.” She greets.

“..Miss Grimshaw.” He grunts, wiping the mud off his face just to seem less.. bearable to look at.

The older woman stares down at him for a while, sizing him up with narrowed eyes. “I’ve noticed that you haven’t been putting money in the camps communal funds for a very long time.” She prods at him.

She does not leave any room for him to reply back with just one simple glare. Arthur is smart enough to let out a low sigh and nod at her words mindlessly, not really paying attention. Said-woman sneers at him as she usually does with the others. The sight of the mud coated on his garments caused the wrinkles on her cheek to crease further, furrowing her brows in disdain.

“You should be ashamed of yourself!” She flails her arms around, “A grown man covered in crap like this—” Her hand is raised, but with a light tap on her shoulder from behind comes the reluctancy of lowering her hand down to peer whom distracted her.

A meek, soft voice from behind immediately catches his attention, “Miss? Ive finished folding your clothes.”

Her attitude does a huge spin. She’s softer now, bickering to herself before mumbling a ‘thank you, dear.’ You tell her that you’ve set it by her bed-roll, to which she nods and walks away, leaving you with the man whom seemed like he was about to burst from irritation. He swore you were some kind of angel in disguise, how you manage to make her soften up just a bit is beyond his comprehension.

His eyes land on yours. It was almost like a non-verbal way of saying ‘thank you’ from practically losing the beast.

You look up at him with those familiar beady eyes, a small smile etched on your face as you eagerly come closer to him. Almost immediately do you feel the aura he radiated- tired, exhausted, angry.. and most importantly, wants to be comforted.

“Oh, dear..” You pity him akin to a pup getting kicked. The way his muck-covered clothes wiped a bit of grime on yours is something you don’t question, “Are you—

You don’t have time to say your full sentence. He’s grabbed you by the waist and easily pulls you to his tent. A soft squeal escapes your lips at the sudden movements, eyes widening at how quick he was.

And you’re squished to his chest, practically glued to him as he wraps his arms around you. The muck is easily visible on your clean dress, but did you mind? No.

You loosen up in his tight hold, placing your chin on the curve of his neck. Your finger-nails drag up and down on his back, drawing little patterns and shapes. Despite being absolutely humid, Arthur doesn’t let that become an obstacle when being with you.

Your serenade-like voice pulls him back to reality, sleepy eyes staring down at yours.

“Was it that bad?” You unconsciously touch his growing stubble, noting to yourself to cut it later. He leans into the palm of your hand, nodding wordlessly.

“Bad don’t even manage to describe the hell I went through today.” He squishes you tighter like a stuffie. He buries his face in your shoulder, the faint scent of pinewood and cinnamon invading his nose- and gosh was it such an addicting smell. He notices the simple bow you adorned in your hair, and the little bow sewed to your top. He noticed every single thing, despite feeling like he’s about to burst.

Slowly but surely, did the irritation fade away from his stomach as he holds you closely.

“‘M sorry to hear,” You apologised, frowning at the sight of your beloved so worked up. Sometimes, he wondered how the hell you even manage to be apart of this gang, “D’ya wanna talk about it?”

He shakes his head with a low grunt, “Nah. Just wan’ be near you.”

The layers-upon-layers of light pink coloured frills covered his lap as you were plopped on him. He mindlessly fiddles with the pretty design, sighing loudly.

“‘M always here to talk to, y’know?” You press a kiss on his cheek.

“I know.” He sighs, cuddling you closely. You really were an angel.

“I don’t deserve you.” He mumbles quietly. You squint your eyes at his own comments, clearly not like it.

“You do.”

A moment of quiet and peace between the two of you, his hand affectionately squeezes yours as a way to comfort himself more than you.

Suddenly, the realisation hits you.

“..Arthur, think you ‘n’ I needa get a bath after this.”

#fem! reader #rdr2 x you #arthur morgan x you #arthur morgan #arthur morgan x reader #afab! reader #arthur morgan x fem! you #arthur morgan x fem! reader #arthur morgan x female reader #arthur morgan fanfic #rdr2 x reader #arthur morgan rdr2

[evie-sturns]

Chris Sturniolo Boyfriend Imagines

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very requested part 2 of matt sturniolo boyfriend imagines!!

summary: cute lil imagines!!

contains: NSFW at the bottom, nothing else just cute fluff!

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this man is definitely super clingy once you guys make your relationship official, your going out to the grocery store? he’s right behind you. he basically cannot let you go anywhere alone 😭

it takes a while for him to fully warm up to you because he’s scared of losing you by getting too comfortable, but once he finally 100% trusts you he’s not afraid to burp in your face! 🤠

you guys cook dinner together each night, even if your not feeling well Chris will drag you to the kitchen and then sit you down on the countertop and let you watch him cook, (he always ends up burning something so you are forced to get down to help him)

he hides it when he’s stressed but you can always tell so you go round to his house unannounced and just cuddle him in bed until he talks to you about what’s bothering him, it helps him when he talks about it with you so that’s one of the reasons he loves you. “thank you for listening to my nonsense..” “i feel bad making you sit here and listen to me yap”

when you guys argue he gets a little bit immature so you have to apologise first so he doesn’t get to hurt and upset, he doesn’t want you to be mad at him but he can’t bring himself to face you to apologise after an argument in fear of making it worse.

this man always has his hands on you to let everyone know your his, if you’re out in public he’s holding your hand, holding your waist, playing with your hair, it doesn’t matter where you are he’s superrr touchy.

he loves to pick you up, when you two are just standing around he will come and hold you above his head randomly while your squealing, laughing and flailing your arms and legs “chris i’m too heavy your gonna drop me!” “shut up y/n you basically weigh nothing.”

he HATES arguing with you, when you drive away from his house after an argument this man will lock his door and just cry, he will never tell you but he’s definitely a crier after you leave mad at him.

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the first time you two fuck he goes slowly at first but looses self control and starts pounding into you from behind 😭, then afterwards he gives you tons of words of affirmation and make sure you’re okay - “you took me so good baby” “ i didn’t go too hard yeah?”

he defo doesn’t give you enough time to adjust to his size, he’ll push all the way inside of you relatively slowly but then instantly start thrusting.

this man LOVES hair pulling, like he grabs your hair and pulls it for support and to keep him balanced while he’s hitting from behind, he always apologises after though 😭

he’s a slut for public sex, he will take you behind a bush and fuck you, he doesn’t care where you guys are he just needs to be inside you.

he loves aftercare and making sure your comfortable after fucking, like he’s picking you up and placing you on the countertop in the bathroom while he cleans up the inside of your thighs while telling you how perfect you are, then he doesn’t bother getting you changed he just places you into bed and cuddles you while rubbing your back.

he loves when you get on top, he gets submissive and try’s to hide it, but he’s pretty bad at hiding it 😭. like he will 100% be whimpering and arcing his back off the bed when he’s close while he holds your hips tightly. “f-fuck oh my god y/n i’m so close..”

he is a makeup-sex kind of guy, after you two apologise to each other and there’s still some awkward tension he’ll just take your hand and silently take you into the bedroom.

this man is a sucker for blowjobs, sometimes he’ll purposely act more stressed than he actually his just to get you to suck his dick to “calm him down” 🫢

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that’s all for today!! my requests are open so request whatever you want and i’ll probably write it

hope y’all enjoyed

#chris sturniolo #matt sturniolo #nick sturniolo #sturniolo #sturniolo triplets #chris sturniolo x reader #chris sturniolo x you #sturniolo smut #chris sturniolo smut #sturniolo fanfic

[hunnylagoon]

Right Where You Left Me

Pt1: Coming Down With Me

Ellie Williams x reader

I once met a girl with skin like kiwi. Even the butterflies were drawn to her, landing on the top of her nose, the dip in her palm. But the kiwi stung my tongue, scarred my lips and made me bleed. I do not care. Cover me in your kiwi kisses, burn my mouth and scar my flesh. Bleach my eyes and dip my heart in lemon juice. Sing your sickly sweet words until my ears bleed.

Premise: You and Ellie were childhood best friends until you grew up. Funny thing about soulmates is that they tend to find their way back to each other.

Warnings: Angst / reader has religious issues / people are mean lol / best friends to enemies to lovers / roommate! Ellie

Part two here!

Part three here!

Part four here!

I know everything about you,

You know everything about me.

I had always been bound to the earth while Ellie danced with the stars in the night sky among delusion and dreams. Though, more so than anything, we were bound to one another.

Our parents were friends, even before we were born. They met at summer camp when they were teenagers, the same camp that Ellie and I were eventually shipped off to every summer. Of course, I have no recollection of when I was an infant, only stories that my parents shared with me; My dad told me that I learned to crawl backwards before I learned to crawl forwards. Joel kept a photo album of his girl.

I can't remember days of crawling around and babbling incoherently, but I can tell you what I remember.

Five years old- Kindergarten

Despite the air being unbearable hot, it was infused with excitement as Ellie and me set foot in the petting zoo. I had never seen so many animals in one place, my little brain was going nuts. Accompanied by the gentle hum of content animals, the aroma of straw, and the distant melody of joyful chatter, the petting zoo rang true to its rustic charm.

Ellie, with her auburn curls bouncing in the breeze, led the way, her eyes widened at the sight of a fluffy alpaca lazily grazing in the sunshine. I giggled as we approached a pen filled with adorable piglets, their tiny snouts sniffing the pure air far away from the dirty stench of the city.

Our parents, watching with affectionate smiles, guided us to the lamb enclosure where soft, woolly creatures nuzzled against tiny palms. Ellie's fingers gently traced the contours of a lamb's ear, and she couldn't resist a delighted squeal as she felt the velvety nose of a goat.

As the afternoon sun cast a warm glow on the scene, the families strolled through the meandering paths, passing by a pond where ducks quacked merrily. Ellie and I, hand in loveable hand, marvelled at the wonders of the animal kingdom, our hearts brimming with the pure joy of discovery and a blooming friendship.

Seven years old- Grade Two

On this particular day, Ellie and I had been messing around in her backyard; that's all we did on the weekends at that age, you couldn't get us to go inside. We spent the morning entwined in daffodils and hyacinth that Joel has so tenderly nurtured, careful not to crush the dainty flowers beneath our wild flailing bodies. 

We had the brilliant idea to paint rocks so we had been searching her yard for the perfect flat stones we had in mind. Ellie picked up a rock and immediately threw it back down, jumping away with a shriek.

This had piqued my curiosity (As well as Joels who sat on the back porch, watching us), I went over to where she stood petrified and found nothing more than a little snake staring up at her. I dropped the stones I had been carrying and bent over to get a better look at it, it was brown and had a few white vertical stripes cascading up its thin body. 

I slowly moved my hand outwards to touch but was swiftly interrupted by Joel scooping me up "That's enough of that kiddo." 

Nine years old- Grade Four

Joel's house garnered an expansive backyard and just past the old fence that Ellie and I had thrown one too many softballs at was a lush forest. I would always clamour up the wood fence and poke my little head over it to try and gather a glimpse of wildlife, Ellie usually had to give me a little boost. "Hold still!" She hissed with her arms wrapped around my torso to help lift me, my scrawny arms shook as I tried to pull myself up even further.

The wood rot of the ancient fence finally set in and with the both of us pressing our mighty weight against it collapsed with the fence. We heard the splitting of wood, I got the worst end of the stick, toppling over and putting my hands out to protect myself. I could've sworn that I heard my wrist break like a crunch.

While I did what felt like a three-sixty frontflip over the fence just for my small head to come down on the end of it with a solid smack, Ellie had just flopped on top of it, green eyes widening in shock when she saw my once straight arm now had an abnormal bump coming out from my wrist. "What's wrong with your hand?"

"I don't know I'm probably dying!" I screamed as loud as my voice could carry, that was the first time I had felt adrenaline run through my veins. "You killed me!"

"No, I didn't!" She retorted, scrambling off the fence and back up to her feet. She was clad in a Jurassic Park T-shirt that she practically was swimming in and those pink and orange plaid Bermuda shorts that any kid in the 2000s owned. "Dad!" Ellie yelled, calling for Joel.

I felt the tears welling up in my eyes and finally, I released the sob that had been building up in my throat. She was almost dumbstruck and just ended up kneeling and wrapping her arms around me in a hug.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to." She muttered.

10 years old- Grade Five

Ellie had been practicing guitar the entire time I was at her house, Joel had gifted her his old guitar and she was so set on perfecting every cord, every half-hour she would ask for a song recommendation and then flip through the songbook she got to find it.

I was curled up in her bed reading The Hunger Games over again "Els, are you team Peeta or Gale?" I was always at Ellie's house, mine was too busy all the time; I had three siblings, Naomi and Aaron who were twins and two years younger than me and my brother Elijah who was three years older than me. I loved going to her house on Saturdays so I could sleep in and wriggle my way out of going to church. Even though her house was right across the street from mine and my parents would bang on Joel's door, he always covered for me.

"Uh," She was distracted by something in her songbook "Team Katniss?"

I nod in approval to myself as she isn't paying attention "You know who Gale reminds me of?" I ask and without Ellie giving me a response I answer anyway "Luke, I think I kind of like him."

Those are the words that get her to look at me "Ew, he's so weird."

"He's nice to me."

She wrinkles her nose in distaste then shrugs, returning to her guitar which sits awardly in her scrawny frame.

12 years old- Grade Seven

"Fuck!" I yell, kicking the grimy green dumpster in the graffiti-covered ally out of anger, though I kicked it a little too hard now my foot hurts I refuse to admit it "Fuck I hate them!"

Ellie leans against the brick wall on the opposite side of the alley, our bikes discarded on the ground while I hopelessly rant to my friend about my parents. She doesn't say much, just little nods of agreement. My parents had caught me skipping church and they laid into me, saying that I had no respect for them or god and whether that was true or not didn't matter, I was full of pre-teen angst and needed to call my friend to go for a bike ride around town.

"She fucking tore my room apart, I never see them get mad at Aaron or Naomi!" I drag my hands down my face before I look back at the dumpster and kick it again "Ow, cunt!" I'm now hopping on one foot while my knee bends my other leg and I hold my beaten red Converse, covered in doodles, to soothe the pain of my poor toes. It's moments like this that remind me why I love Ellie, because as stupid as I look hobbling around and cussing, she doesn't laugh at me even though I know she wants to.

After a little bit of me aimlessly yelling I finally wind down. I close my eyes and take a deep breath, trying to remember those breathing exercises that we were taught at school assemblies. "Thanks for listening to me talk shit, I'm sorry."

"Don't be," She shrugs "I've seen you do worse."

This cracks a smile on my face, I turn my head and am met with the Jackson skyline, a beautiful pink sunset on the horizon "Sun's setting," I say.

"Sleepover?" Ellie asks.

"Sleepover," I confirm.

13 years old- Grade Eight

We were thirteen when our parents shoved cash into our hands and dropped us at the mall to go back to school shopping by ourselves for the first time. Every parent's nightmare was a busy mall so when they figured us old enough to venture into the dreaded foodcourt on our own, believed they were taking that opportunity. 

Ellie had bought a couple of T-shirts and hoodies here and there, not too particular about what she was buying, though I was very nit-picky over what I wore so I forced Ellie to judge every single outfit that I wore and rate it, she gave the same answer every single time "It looks fine."

"Cool but I don't wanna look fine, I wanna look pretty," I say in frustration, walking back into the dressing room to try on another outfit. Ellie is sitting in the fitting room on a pink velvet couch, arms crossed and waiting for me to finish. "How's this?" I ask, walking out of the changing stall and giving her a little twirl.

"It looks fine- I mean good, everything looks good on you." She sounds almost exasperated. Ellie's hair was still that vibrant auburn colour that my mother was obsessed with, it had yet to fade out into a duller brown with age.

"Really?" I perk up just the slightest.

"Yeah, you look really pretty." She gives me a little nod of confirmation. I know that she's only saying that because she wants to go to the food court and get a cinnamon bun but I believe her anyway.

14 years old- Grade Nine

We were just nearing the end of the second half of our soccer game. It was the tournament and we were only a point away from placing first in the league, the thought of it had kept me up all week I was running off of Subway sandwiches and Gatorade. 

Riley (the midfielder) swiftly passed the ball to me before she was surrounded by the other team's defence, I looked up to the clock and there were only seconds left in the match. I let my instincts take over, my parents forcing me into soccer since elementary school was not going to wind up useless. My footwork took me up the right wing just before the penalty box. 

I wasn't paying enough attention to notice the tall blonde girl in a slick back ponytail closing in on me. I hear Ellie shout my name and that's all I need to make this last pass, I barely even looked up before power-driving the ball to Ellie who was merely six metres away from me. I slipped onto the muddied field with that kick, watching Ellie waste no time to score our final goal the second her cleat touched the ball. 

The clock deadlocks and I drag myself off the ground running towards my best friend, I jump on her almost taking her down with me though she manages to steady herself. "I fucking love you!" I scream hugging her with all of the force I can muster. She hugs me in return, unable to get any words out between her laughs. The team is quick to swarm us, everyone is shouting about our well-deserved victory but not one person is louder than Joel in the stands.

15 years old- Grade Ten

Snow was falling as I stood in the foyer of the high school, still waiting for my date for the winter formal to arrive. Conner had asked me out weeks ago, we hadn't talked much since though I just figured that was because he was shy. I even left school early to get ready and spent hours meticulously pinning every hair into place and adjusting my navy blue satin dress so it would drape across my body in just the right way.

My sister, Naomi was an aspiring makeup artist so I let her dust my eyelids in silver glitter, I forced Warren to drive me. All of that was just for me to get stood up. Conner hadn't texted me all day, I knew he wasn't coming that didn't stop me from forcing denial on myself. "Hey," I heard a soft voice sound behind me, I wasn't surprised to see Ellie. Even though our parents were no longer friends, we were close as ever.

"Hi," My voice was hushed and feeble.

"The dance started an hour ago," She said, that night she had been wearing a white button-up with a pair of jeans and her hair half up. It was clear the dance wasn't as big a deal to her as it was to me. All she had done was ask Riley to go with her and call it a day. Despite her lack of effort, she looks beautiful as ever "I don't think he's coming," She said bluntly.

That's the exact moment I felt myself crack, tears welled up in my eyes and I lurched forward to hug her, flailing my arms helplessly to search for comfort "Then why did he ask me to go with him?" My sobs were drowned out by the sound of Kesha blasting in the overcrowded gym.

"I don't know, but he's an idiot for standing you up," Ellie holds me close and I never want her to let go "I wouldn't have ever done that to you."

16 years old- Grade Eleven

This is where things begin to fall apart. I found Ellie on the back porch of some random guy's house at a party. "I figured I would find you out here," I say, taking a seat next to her on the wooden steps, I hug my knees close to my chest.

"What's up?" Beside me, Ellie is unnervingly calm, she nurses a joint, taking a long hit and letting the smoke turn to clouds. 

"Conner kissed me," I say cutting to the chase

I can tell she doesn't like the thought, she hated Conner, ever since he stood me up at the winter formal but she bites her tongue "You guys gonna date?"

"I think so."

"Good for you."

"I don't know if I liked it," My eyebrows are furrowed, and I pull my knees in even further, inhaling the crisp autumn air and the smell of Ellie, she smells like cannabis, firewood and bar soap. 

"What do you mean?" Ellie puts out the end of her joint and tucks what remains of it into an empty Altoids container.

"Nothing," I dismiss it, "It doesn't matter, I just wanted to talk to you," Ellie had softened every burden for me since we were girls. "Um, so, my parents are sending me to boarding school next year."

"No, they're not-

"They are."

Ellie doesn't seem so calm anymore, she adjusts her body to face mine and she's so close I swear to god I could've counted every freckle on her face. "Why, what did you do?" The way she looks at me makes me wish that she was a boy.

"Nothing!" I retort "They think I'm straying from god, it's a Christian school." That was my code for 'they think I have a crush on you and I rather not get disowned by my super religious parents!'

"come stay with me and Joel-

"Ellie, please," I place a hand on her thigh "I don't think I can get away from this one."

That was at the end of September, it only got worse from there. I partially wished that I didn't tell Ellie that I had to leave, every time we hung out it just felt like words were hanging between us like birds on a wire and neither of us could say what we wanted. I forced myself to distance myself from her, I didn't know how else to handle my feelings. 

She would blow up my phone and come by my house even visit my work but I just told her that I was busy. I could tell that she didn't believe my excuses for a second, she had English with my new boyfriend, Conner and would get him to relay messages and notes to me.

It didn't get easier to ignore her, my family prying about where she had been. I never told my parents that Ellie was gay, though I know they had always had a suspicion and that's why they could never love her all the way completely, the way Joel loved me and looked out for me. My mom and dad liked that I swapped out Ellie for Conner, by February, my dad even started to call him son. 

In March Ellie and I had stopped talking completely, she gave up on texting me and coming by my house just for my siblings to lie about my whereabouts. It hurt to see the resentment gleam in her eye every time she passed me in the hallway. 

She didn't speak a word to me until the start of the summer bonfire which was custom in our town. If I had known she would be there I never even would have thought about going. I rather not rehash this awful night, not right now just know that it ended with some alcohol, a bit of blood in the sand and me telling Ellie 'I would pick him over you every single time.' Yikes, that's not a good look for me. I spent the rest of my summer burying her in the back of my mind until boarding school finally came upon me and I graduated with friends I didn't like in a place that didn't feel like home. 

I was sixteen then now I'm nineteen, no longer a girl but not yet a woman. Those were some key moments of our friendship. I'm not so sure why I felt so mature at the age of sixteen. I had taken a gap year and loved every minute of it, I backpacked in Australia, worked as a camp counsellor in the summer then left to work at a turtle conservatory in Bali, I was making pennies but the experience was worth it. 

I arrived at my new home sunkissed with Ellie far in the back of my mind. I didn't know much about who I would be rooming with, I had only spoken to Dina over a Zoom call who was a friendly girl with warm eyes and ink-black hair spilling over her shoulders. I just prayed that none of them were Craigslist killers.

It took me entirely too long to find parking, when I finally did, I grabbed two of my suitcases, unable to hold anything else, the rest of the boxes jammed into my car would have to wait. I read over the text that Dina sent me what seemed to be a million times to make sure I had the right address. It was a small-ish one-story flat with brown walls that had white accents along corners and the doorway with a wood-panelled gable roof. As far as college housing went, I was happy. It looked like something I would've made in the Sims when I was a teenager. 

I walk to the front door, the entrance is framed by intricately carved moulding, its details telling a story of craftsmanship and tradition. The wood, polished to a warm, inviting glow, exudes a sense of richness and history. I knocked on the door and heard a voice shouting that she would get it.

The door swings open and I'm met face to face with Dina "Hey!" She smiled "It's nice to meet you, I think you'll like it here," She held the door wide open, motioning for me to go in, and I obliged. "Let me give you a tour." Dina is clad in sweatpants and an oversized t-shirt and her hair has been pulled back into a messy ponytail.

The layout of the house seemed somewhat odd to me, there was a corridor straight ahead when you walked in, the first room was the laundry room and contained the washer and dryer with some hampers and shelves of detergent and laundry freshener. "This is the laundry room, we have a wash schedule along with a chore schedule so we will put you on that tonight," Dina told me, I just nodded politely in response feeling a little too awkward and out of place to say anything. 

"Alright so this is the kitchen, there's a half bathroom beside it," She says, swinging her arms wide open for exaggeration I can see the chore chart hanging on the walls, it's written in chalk, and it is the laundry schedule. There are little laminated tags with each person's name on them, though I can't quite make out the names from where I am standing. The fridge is covered in postcards, magazine cutouts, polaroids, and bright magnets of papayas and flowers, I automatically assumed this was Dina despite not knowing the other roommates. The kitchen is open with no walls to hide it, the oven and dishwasher are built into counters against the walls as well as the sink which i spotless at the moment, there isn't a dining table but a kitchen island with stools. Past the island you can see the living room, there are two grey couches with decorative pillows and fuzzy throw blankets, a coffee table that looked handcrafted with care and of course a TV. 

Have I mentioned there are plants everywhere? Like everywhere. "Okay, so," Dina keeps on moving and I trail behind with my suitcases, over there is my room and Cat's and Abby's," She points to the left of the living room where there is a short hallway with three doors, one on each wall of it. "There's Cat now," She waves at her roommate.

Cat is relatively tall, she has black hair that's tied into a bun, and she's wearing plaid pyjama pants and a black tank top, I can see her abundance of tattoos. She has one sleeve of laurel cascading up her arm and the other is patchwork done right, each separate piece blends almost seamlessly into the next. "I like your tattoos," I say, not wanting to sit in any more silence.

She grins at me "Thanks, love," I nod in response to her, Cat looks down at the suitcases that I'm lugging around "Dina, take this poor girl to her room already."

"I was just getting there," Dina teases and motions for me to follow her "So over here is the bathroom and of course your room, I left your copy of the house key on your mattress," She opens it up. The bedroom is completely blank aside from the boxed bedframe, shelf, vanity and mattress that I had to send over prior. There's a built-in closet in the wall. 

I put my suitcases on the ground "I'm gonna grab the rest of my stuff from my car," I offer up a tight-lipped smile.

"Wait a second," She takes my hand and then knocks on the bedroom door parallel to mine. "I'm coming in!" Dina announces pushing the door open, there's a brunette girl hunched over her desk. My breath hitches in my throat when she turns around "This is Ellie."

I can see the panic that momentarily takes over Ellie when she spots me before it's replaced by a false coolness, "Hey," She says before turning back to her laptop and putting her headphones back on. It felt like my heart had shut down, why the fuck did I sign the lease?

"Sorry," Dina shuts Ellie's door "She's not the friendliest of the bunch but she'll warm up to you eventually," Dina walks to the front door with you Abby should be around here somewhere."

I had gotten so frustrated trying to set up my bed frame that I sheepishly left my room and asked for help, god bless Abby. She was putting everything together so easily, I watched her in awe as she finished adding the final screw to my bedframe. "Want help setting up the mattress?"

"Yes, please," I say, I grab one end of the mattress while Abby gets the other, she tells me to lift on three and I listen, she carries the majority of the weight but it still feels like an accomplishment on my part. "So does everyone here go to Northridge?"

"Yeah, except for Cat, she's a tattoo apprentice."

"Cool, cool," I search for words, "What are you majoring in?"

"Kinesiology," It makes sense, I could've called that by looking at the fit gym rat who was now sitting on my bed. "You?"

"Wildlife biology,"

"So you like animals and conservation and stuff?"

"Mhm," I nod "It's honestly kind of hard to not have any animals in my life." I was missing all my pets back home, when I wasn't with them I was working at a conservatory or at a summer camp where I took care of all of the horses, and Ellie's dog, Achilles.

"You'll get used to it, living with Dina is the same thing as living with an animal," She smiles and for the first time, I feel comfortable. Abby watching me with her blue eyes as I begin to unpack my abundance of boxes, I kind of just dump everything onto the ground because I can't remember which box has what, the first thing I search for are my coat hangers. I dump out a box with a bible, wall cross, and rosery and golden cross necklace from a box of random knickknacks. "You religious?"

"Kind of?" I question it myself "Not really, it's just my family, I packed that stuff to make my mom happy."

Abby nods "I get it."

"You do?"

She backtracks "No, but I can try to."

I shake my head, "I wouldn't try if I were you, I spent nineteen years trying to get away from it." I was sure other Christian homes were healthy but mine wasn't one of them, the way my parents obsessed over Jesus was honestly frightening.

"Hey, do you wanna come watch a movie when your done unpacking?" Abby asked, "Get to know your new roommates a little better."

I don't entirely want to, I wasn't ready to talk to Ellie. I still hadn't wrapped my head around the fact that I was living with her and that she was pretending she didn't know me, despite this, my words betrayed me "For sure."

I sat on one of the couches beside Abby, I made myself as small as I could, thinking that maybe I could make myself disappear. Cat and Ellie crammed themselves on the other while Dina took the plush armchair. I felt so out of place everyone here had relationships, I had one with Ellie before I severed it 'Grown Ups' was playing on the flatscreen though it seemed I was the only one paying attention.

The four girls all laughed and talked their way through the movie, Abby, Cat, and Dina would ask me a question here and there but I didn't know them well enough to pitch in. I kept telling myself that I needed to push through, if Spiderman could do it, so could I.

I didn't even finish the movie, halfway through I excused myself saying I was tired which wasn't necessarily a lie. It was difficult to fathom how well Ellie was playing it off, acting like she never met me. I walk into the bathroom, clean towel in hand, ready to scrub off the stress of today. Beside the mirror, I see a cardstock poster decorated with bright markers and doodles.

HOUSE RULES

#1 No underwear left in the bathroom

#2 Wash your dishes

#3 Break it? Tell Abby

#4 No smoking inside

#5 Privates are private!

#6 Pls don't drink and drive (We have a couch)

#7 Give your beloved roommates a heads up before having someone over

#8 This is a residence of women so the seat goes down!!!

#9 Respect the bedrooms

#10 Having sex? Keep it quiet

#11 NO DRAMA!!!!!!!!

#12 Follow chore and wash chart

#13 Don't eat what's not yours! (Without asking)

I finish reading the last bit and mutter to myself  "Wasn't planning on it." I run the water so hot that it feels cold and I'm quick to not use all of the hot water and have my roommates hate me on my first night here. Everyone has their little drawers in the bathroom, mine is empty aside from some floss and cotton pads that the girl before me left behind. I make a mental note to make use of my bathroom drawer tomorrow and fill it with makeup remover or conditioner, or something like that.

Brushing my teeth and wrapping myself in a strawberry towel that I had purchased at a craft fair, I open the bathroom door, I can see the light of the TV and the sound of chatter from the living room. However, I ignore it and make a B-line to my bedroom. Even though I had spent hours unpacking and pinning up posters it still didn't seem homey.

I slip into shorts and a t-shirt, leaving my hair as is and throw myself onto my bed. My towel is discarded onto my bathroom floor. When I turn on my phone I am bombarded my messages from my parents, my mother has probably sent me twelve Google pins to the closest churches, I answer her with a thumb-up emoji and settle into my bed to scroll through social media and see how much fun all of my friends are having. 

Fucking Ellie. She's plaguing my thoughts, I think of what I said to her and it makes me cringe, I want to smother myself with my satin pillow. I don't even have food to eat, grocery shopping wasn't something that I put on my priority list and right about now I was but Ellie, god, why was I such a dick? Because I didn't know what else to do- whatever, I was a scared teenager. What would you have done? Probably kiss her you lesbo.

Lord, it makes me sick to think about what could've been.

15 years old- Grade Ten

Ellie and I were sitting at a fire pit at her uncle Tommy's lake house. It was a Fourth of July party except we were the only teenagers there; everyone else was friends of Tommy and Maria or some distant relatives of Ellie's or children of said people.

After five years of practicing day and night, Ellie had just about mastered the acoustic guitar, she played and I sang, wrapped up in her flannel, I was tucked close next to her. 

She struck every cord perfectly and I began to sing absentmindedly, the song that had been carved into my brain. Ellie looked so insanely beautiful illuminated only by fire and the stars that hung in the sky, if it hadn't been a sin I would've kissed her.

Talking to her felt as holy as praying to god but I knew it was as sinful as worshipping the devil. 

If it was so wrong why was I born in God's image?

Her gentle hand strummed on the chords of the guitar, the same calloused hand that had once turned water into wine. Her laughter was the sound of a church choir 

I wish I told her how much I liked her but what would've happened if I did? What would my parents think, they would kill me. 

Part of me didn't care how my parents would react, if I spoke up, I could say goodbye to my inheritance and having college paid for. Maybe that was an unfair assumption to make on my part. Ugh. FUCK, I don't know, let's get to the next part of the story.

I couldn't sleep that night, I thought maybe a glass of water would soothe me, well I didn't really think that but I was hungry and thirsty and water was the only thing in that house I had the right to ingest. I figured that I could fill myself with water and zip to Denny's in the morning then grab some groceries.

Poking my head out of my door, I checked to see if anyone was still awake before gingerly taking hushed steps towards the kitchen, I was trying to be as light as Thumbelina. I hadn't noticed Ellie bumming on the couch, scrolling through her phone. 

"You cooking all of that non-existent food you brought?" She jeered. Oh, now she wanted to talk to me.

"I was gonna have some warm water soup for dinner and chew on pistachio shells from the cup holder in my car for dessert," I answer "I'm treating myself tonight." She didn't think it was funny at all, a few years ago she would've been cackling at my subpar joke, but now she just seemed unamused. "Sheesh, tough crowd."

She stays silent.

"You used to think I was funny," I say.

"I also used to think the tooth fairy was real."

"Harsh," I mutter. Turning the tap on and sticking a finger underneath it to test the temperature. I put my hummingbird mug underneath it and let it fill. "Hey, Ellie," She doesn't answer "Have you told them any bad things about me?"

She nearly scoffs "No, believe it or not, I don't talk about you, I don't even think about you," There's venom in her voice "You haven't crossed my mind since you walked through that door."

"Why are you pretending you don't know me-

"Because I don't fucking like you," She says it like it's so obvious and it honestly is in this moment "Just because you're pretty and you act like a sweet little Christain girl, that doesn't mean shit."

"I'm not trying to act like anything-

"Yeah, well it seems pretty insincere to me," Ellie seethed and I could feel a sting in my heart, I would do some pretty horrendous things for a time machine right about now.  I can tell that there won't be any salvaging for this, she hates me to death and rightfully so. 

This is where I give up "Okay, sorry," I grab my hummingbird mug and retreat to my room.

I endured four months of that.

Ellie was pushed to the back of my mind while I ran through classes and got a job as a waitress at a stake house. I did everything in my power to keep myself busy, to keep her out of my head but she was always there, she hung around like a song I can't shake, like I'm haunted by the melody. 

Some nights when the city decides to quiet down I can hear her play guitar, and I'll quietly hum along to it. Songs she used to sing for me, she now sings for another woman, another soul. I knew that she had girls over, but I never got to meet them as Ellie did everything in her power to pretend I didn't exist.

The only communication I got with her was in the roommate's group chat, and it was always brief.

Ellie: Having a friend over tomorrow night

D-manz: Friend? With benefits??????????

Kit-Cat: Nah they're hardly even friends, just benefits

Abs: Don't get her pregnant

Me: 👍

As long as I was with the girls, Ellie was not. She avoided me like the plague, it was like she despised my existence. If we go clubbing, she takes a separate taxi, petty if you ask me. The girls knew something happened between us but they couldn't pinpoint what it was. It was Dina's conspiracy that Ellie used to date one of my friends and broke her heart. While I bonded with Cat, Dina, and Abby, Ellie would pretend to like me. She would occasionally laugh at my jokes or ask how my shift was when Dina was in the room. 

Trust me when I say I would rather forget than dwell on it but it was impossible. I know that I'm nothing more than an obstacle to her, a stain on her bedsheets, a sore in her mouth, but she was still my diamond in the rough. I will willingly ignore all of her cutthroat words and her jagged edges. 

Because I know everything about us.

#ellie williams #ellie williams fluff #ellie williams x you #the last of us #the last of us ellie #ellie the last of us #ellie williams x female reader #tlou #ellie williams x reader #abby anderson #dina woodward #dina tlou #ellie williams x reader fluff #fluff #ellie williams x reader angst #ellie williams angst #angst #joel miller #childhood best friends to lovers #slow burn #roommates

[stayfortwominutes]

📝the proof is in the pudding | lee know

disclaimers; written from third person perspective, petnames, food, mentions of an absent parent. no depictions of the members' personalities, actions or thoughts reflect their true character.

pairing; lee know x female reader ft. their daughter.

synopsis; minho will always show you that love is not earnt, it is simply given.

content; fluff, comfort, married/established relationship, slight angst, slice of life | word count; 1.7 k

“no m-mowe.” the shrill cry that escaped from the little girl alarmed minho as he rushed into the kitchen to find the source of distress.

“no more?” minho repeats. the child turned to face him, her hand slid down the frame of the refrigerator; petite figure illuminated by the light that cast her disappointed silhouette onto the tiled floor below. she met his eyes with her bottom lip pouted and quivering.

"awe, princess." minho lovingly cooed as he attempted to soothe his daughter, minhee. her chubby cheeks were puffed out, crystal droplets threatened to overflow from her glassy eyes. her father shuffled over with his arms outstretched as he leaned down to scoop the child up. 

with minhee perched on his left forearm against his hip, minho strutted out to the living room where y/n lay dumbfounded on the couch.

"d-daddy, i want pp-udding," minhee muttered hoarsely, spluttering a little as she choked back her sobs. 

the dazed woman slowly sat upright as she rubbed the sleep from her eyes. only moments ago, she was drifting off, contently resting on minho's shoulder as he enveloped her with a warm arm; before he abruptly dashed off the couch to tend to their child. with his eyebrows furrowed and a sulking minhee in his arms, minho bounced gently from side-to-side on the spot.

“bunny, how about we go out for a stroll to collect some puddings?” the soft tone laced in honey expressed from minho was not unusual after he became a father, in fact, the softer sides of him were on display more often, but exclusively for his sweethearts.

“mummy, pudding pweeeease?” minhee further pleaded while flailing her tiny, determined fists in the air; the loose vowels amplifying her loveable manner.

y/n chuckled to herself, raking her fingers through her unruly, dishevelled locks. the clock on the wall read eight forty-five, and the family had no plans other than settling in for a peaceful saturday evening.

“how can i say no to both my babies?” minhee and minho exchanged glances, their eyes twinkling at the prospect of the delicious treat. y/n made her way over to the pair, pinching her daughter’s cheeks lightly as a hushed joyous squeal emitted from minhee, before reaching up and pecking her husband’s nose. “we’ll have to hurry, only fifteen minutes before the shop closes!” 

a few brief minutes later and the family of three were ambling their merry way to the nearest convenience store in hopes of retrieving their prized puddings. y/n and minho stood on either side of minhee, the trio forming a chain as they interlinked their hands together. the light breeze that picked up was a pleasant relief from the awful humidity of the summer night.

“daddy and i will have vanilla pudding, mummy what one do you want?” the small girl piped up, her cheerful voice carrying through the empty street. “hmm, what flavour do you recommend?” y/n replied, smiling down at minhee, swinging their intertwined hands back and forth. “maybe you can try a different one and we can all share?” minho cheekily chimed in.

“your dad is telling me to get something different so you can enjoy mine and still eat yours too.” dropping her daughter’s hand, y/n stood still to cross her arms over her chest. 

minho and minhee stopped in their tracks, and gazed at each other, “see i told you, she would figure it out. quick let’s go before she can stop us!” he swiftly lifted his daughter onto his back and jogged down the road, harmonious giggles erupted from the mischievous duo. y/n sighed, the sides of her mouth naturally upturned in response to their innocent antics. noticing she was a distance behind, up ahead minho had turned around, nodding to usher her along.

with their puddings in hand, the family were set to return home, but minhee in her phase of intense curiosity, insisted they visit the nearby playground. y/n and minho could not resist their bundle of joy, and happily obliged.

“promise we will eat our puddings first, then ten minutes on the swing, alright?” y/n bargained. the family of three sat on a bench, all humming in enjoyment as they stomached their sweet puddings.

“it’s the last bite, open. ah,” minho demonstrated, his bunny teeth making an appearance, as he held the petite plastic spoon before minhee’s lips. the little girl mimicked his actions, her front teeth adorably similar to her father’s. 

y/n sat to the side, admiring the exchange between her husband and child. a warmth tickling the bottom of her heart. lost in her thoughts, minho’s pudding spoon dug into his wife’s cup. y/n glared playfully at her husband, her failed attempt to swat his hand away cost her pudding. “ooh, caramel!” he teased, poking his tongue out as he finished the small portion she had left over.

feeling kittenish, y/n wrapped her arms around her daughter, who was sat between the couple. “mimi,” y/n began whining, “daddy is mean, he took my pudding~” minhee shifted in her place, a tiny hand patting against her mother’s hip in consolation. “bad daddy, mummy is sad. you should give her a kiss to make it better!” hues of red painted y/n’s cheeks as the tips of minho’s ears grew hot. 

sheepishly leaning over, her hand deftly obscuring the child’s eyes as she pressed a peck to her husband’s lips, brazenly grazing his bottom lip with her tongue. pulling away and adjusting herself to relax back into the bench, y/n chuckles, “hmm, you’re right, the caramel is good. i'm all better now.” 

minho was greatly flustered, a little frazzled from his wife’s bold display of affection in front of their child. he quickly shot up from his seat, hand extended to minhee, “sh-shall we get to the swings, princess?” 

y/n watches as her husband and daughter skip together hand-in-hand to the swing set. her gaze wistful as she observes the pair, the sound of their mirthful laughter dances with the wind that disturbs the thick trees. the rustling of their leaves almost drowns out the wailing of the crickets. perhaps it was the faint tinge of petrichor that lingered in the evening air that ignite the tainted memories she had long believed were buried deep in the forsaken trenches of her mind. 

in front of her, minho earnestly basked in the moment, blissfully engaging with his daughter. a permanent smile etched onto their faces as the apples of their cheeks bloomed under the glow of the array of streetlamps littering the surrounding park area. y/n leaned forward, resting her elbow on her thigh whilst she placed her chin against her palm. the sight before her eyes fills her with a lonesome sense of longing, yet at the same time the contradicting feeling of solace.

as a child she lacked an adequate father figure, and for so long she was lost in her own sense of misdirection, untrusting of men and fearful of commitment. when minho entered her life, she was apprehensive, conflicted as to whether he could accept the myriad of flaws that decorated her person.

a light scoff instinctively fell from her lips, that thought banished from her mind as she stared down at the diamond ring on her left-hand finger. she could not deny his honest, blithe soul was bewitching.

minho sweeps his little girl off of her feet to rest her head against his shoulder, then turns to rejoin his wife at the bench. he instantaneously recognises the vacant look in his wife’s eyes, her absent gaze directed to her hand, and he makes a mental note to hold her in his arms extra tight when they get into bed.

“let’s go now, our princess is falling asleep.” he muses as his chin juts to point at the koala clinging to his upper torso. y/n stands, slipping her hand into minho’s.

minho places a faint peck on his daughter’s forehead, cautious to stir her in her dozing state. “goodnight, bub.” he whispered affectionately, then softly closed the door to tiptoe back to the couple’s bedroom.

the moonlight spills in through the sheer curtains to dimly light the room where the pair lay together. minho engulfs her in a warm embrace, their limbs entangled under the covers. 

“thank you for being apart of my life. thank you for giving me something to look forward to in life, pumpkin.” y/n breathes out shakily, snuggling herself further into minho’s chest. he has an inkling as to what spurs his wife’s sudden heartfelt confession.

with her eyes still closed, y/n’s mind continues to ruminate, continuing down the spiral of her earlier train of thought. her hands encircling minho’s waist bundle tightly into his shirt. the tense hold on his clothes has him slightly shrinking away, as he takes a hold of his wife’s chin to bring her eye’s level with his. “bun, is something bothering you?” 

y/n doesn’t reply, her fragmented mind unable to form a coherent sentence. exhaling with all her might, she begins with her eyes still tightly shut, “no, it’s nothing like that. it-it’s just… seeing you treat our minhee so well, i feel so grateful. you’re a father to her in the ways i needed a father most.” 

the hum of the air conditioning fills the room. y/n tentatively opens her eyes, thinking her words were foolish.

“i am treating her with the love she deserves, and that’s the same love you deserve, bunny. pure and unconditional.” minho reaches to tenderly tuck a loose strand of hair behind y/n’s ear. he inches closer to press a loving kiss to his wife’s lips, filled with both reassurance and passion.

when they separate, he feels a droplet catch on his unclothed bicep. he fondly caresses y/n’s cheek, wiping stray tears that stagger down the side of her face. placing his forehead against her’s, minho gently shushes her, patting her back to calm the outpour of raw emotion that overcomes her. his wife relishes in his comforting touch, his affections effortlessly melt all her anxiety and tension into nothingness.

minho was the only man who didn't take pieces of her heart, to leave her a shell of the person she used to be. he only gave her more things about herself, and the world to love.

consider reading more: masterlist

note; i was overwhelmed and am so grateful for all the support i received in the polling to choose this fic, and for the attention my other writing pieces have received. i am little worried this kind of plot and more serious writing may disappoint a few. but, thank you to everyone who gave me a small corner of the internet where i belong. i appreciate any reblogs and constructive criticisms you may have of my work 💖 © stayfortwominutes ; august 20, 2023.

#skz x reader #skz comfort fic #stray kids fics #stray kids x reader #lee minho x reader #lee know x reader #stray kids comfort #skz husband #skz fluff #stray kids fluff #kpop imagine #kpop scenario #skz angst #stray kids angst #stray kids marriage #skz marriage #stayfortwominutes #lee know x y/n #lee know x you #lee minho x y/n #skz x y/n #skz x you

[nickandcharlieareticklish]

A More Enjoyable Assignment (tickle fic)

Fandom: Heartstopper

Summary: Nick loves to tickle Charlie, but he never lets Charlie tickle him back. Charlie would never admit it to anyone, but all he wanted to do was hear his boyfriend squirm and giggle and it was starting to drive him up the wall.

Forget homework - this Nick-related assignment was way more fun.

My first ever tickle fic! Quite nervous about posting this, so all (kind) feedback very much appreciated.

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Nick loved to tickle Charlie. This was common knowledge at this point. Charlie could barely make it through an hour in Nick's company before he was pounced on and his high-pitched babbling and squeals filled the air. Charlie would put up a dramatic fuss every time but honestly, he really didn't mind. And he could see from Nick's shit-eating grin just how much joy it brought him.

However, the main issue was that whenever Charlie reached out a retaliating hand to tickle Nick's side, or grabbed his knee to squeeze it, Nick would immediately employ Strong Rugby Arms and intercept his movements, never giving him the chance to properly get his revenge. He'd never admit it to anyone, but all Charlie wanted to do was hear his boyfriend squirm and giggle and it was starting to drive him up the wall.

One Sunday afternoon, they were studying on Nick's bedroom floor, music playing softly in the background. They lay on their stomachs alongside each other, hips and shoulders touching. Charlie had sunk so deep into quadratic equations that he was barely aware of his surroundings, until he felt the familiar sensation of fingers digging expertly, but gently, into his armpit. It took a few seconds for his brain to catch up and then he gasped and squirmed away.

“Nick!” he all but squawked. “You're such a menace.”

When he turned to look at him, Nick was scribbling on his own Geography paper, his face schooled into an unconvincing expression of concentration. Charlie scoffed.

“You're fooling literally no one at this point,” he said, rolling his eyes affectionately and tapping Nick gently on the forehead with his pen.

A smile spread slowly across Nick's face, and he suddenly grabbed for Charlie's hips with both hands and squeezed. This was one of his worst spots – which Nick knew, the arsehole – and Charlie immediately crumbled, attempting to curl into the foetal position on the floor while high-pitched squeals poured out of him.

“Stop it, stop it, stop it!” he cried, trying to wriggle away. Nick just chuckled and ignored him, spidering his fingers up his sides. “Ah fu – fuck, Nick, that tickles so m-much – please...” His arms were flailing wildly, trying to grab Nick's hands and slow his movements.

Nick grinned but paused for a second, clearly winding down so as not to completely overwhelm him, and Charlie saw his chance. He lunged for Nick's thigh but before he could get any leverage, Nick casually plonked his entire body across Charlie's on the floor, leaving him unable to move.

“Nah, I don't think so,” Nick said calmly.

“Oh, for god sake.”

They lay there for a few moments, Charlie catching his breath after the attack. Nick's pinning was clever in stopping him being able to move much, whilst carefully avoiding actually hurting him. Eventually, Nick lifted his weight off Charlie and they rolled onto their sides to face each other.

“You good?” Nick asked, giving him his trademark lopsided smile.

“Yeah,” Charlie said, returning the grin with ease. They just drank each other in for a few seconds. “But you always -” He started, but then faltered, embarrassed.

“Hmm?” Nick was suddenly frowning slightly, always able to read him like a bloody book. He reached for Charlie's hand, linking their fingers together.

“You don't -” Charlie blew out a breath, frustrated at his inability to form words. “You never let me tickle you back.”

“Oh!” Nick's face softened with understanding, and then he grinned. “I know.”

“But why?”

“It's just funny,” Nick shrugged. “And because you're cute when you're annoyed. And in general.”

Charlie would never get used to Nick's unabashed compliments. He felt his face heat up as a rush of warmth spread through his body. “Shut up.”

“And when you're flustered.” The lopsided smile of pure sunshine was back.

“Nick, stop it! It's not fair when I don't get to fluster you back.” Nick's grin just grew wider. “Are you even ticklish?” Charlie asked, his eyes roaming around the parts of Nick's body that he knew were his own worst spots. He leaned in to poke his stomach but as usual Nick was too quick for him, grabbing his wrist.

“Ah now, that would be telling,” Nick replied in a gentle tone.

Charlie groaned, and Nick laughed brightly. “Do you giggle? I bet you're a giggler.”

“Absolutely not.”

A thought occurred to Charlie, and he had a sudden flash of anxiety. “If you really hate being tickled then it's fine, I won't tickle you. I just thought -”

“Charlie,” Nick interrupted softly, running his thumb over Charlie's knuckles. “It's okay. I don't hate it. I just happen to be very very good at stopping you.”

“Well, I think it's mean of you to use Muscle 1 and Muscle 2 against me,” Charlie said sternly, poking each of them in turn with a finger.

Nick snorted. “Ah, but we both know that you like the arms.”

“Not in this context! Anyway, forget homework because this is my new assignment.”

Nick said nothing, just looked at him affectionately for a moment and then leaned across to kiss him. Charlie sank into it, but pulled back after a few moments to appraise him. “You scared?”

Nick pretended to mull it over. “Hmm... nope. But you should be.”

Charlie rolled his eyes, but then burst into surprised laughter a moment later as Nick dived for his knees.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Charlie took this assignment very seriously – it was in his geeky nature, after all – and work began the very next day. He figured that the best tactic was to catch Nick off guard when he might not be able to react quickly enough to stop him. It was hardly the most well-thought-out plan but he didn't really have many other options.

His first attempt was first thing on Monday morning, in form room. Mr Lange was about to take the register and Nick was hastily completing his Geography homework that was (of course) due first thing.

“If only you'd finished this yesterday like a good student, instead of distracting us both with those magic fingers of yours,” Charlie whispered.

Nick just turned to him, raising an eyebrow at his inadvertent choice of words.

“Tickling fingers, I mean,” Charlie added, hastily and unnecessarily.

“I know,” Nick replied, entirely too innocently. “What else would you mean?”

Charlie gave him a look, but couldn't stop the grin that took over his face a moment later. Nick was winding him up, and it was on. When Nick turned back to his work, Charlie bit his lip in concentration, looking him up and down. The problem was that he didn't know where Nick's weak spots were, but the idea of finding out was more exciting than he'd care to admit.

Knees were normally a weak spot, right? And they were hidden under the desk where no one else could see what was going on. Probably a good place to start.

Charlie shuffled a bit closer to Nick on his chair – not unusual, so Nick didn't bat an eyelid, just continued writing. He reached out his left hand as surreptitiously as he could, shifting it under the desk towards Nick's right leg. Before he could overthink it and chicken out, Charlie reached for the fleshy part just above Nick's knee and squeezed.

He heard Nick's sharp intake of breath and felt his hand instantly shoot out and close around Charlie's hand.

“Excuse me!” Nick muttered, chuckling in surprise. “What do you think you're doing?”

“My new homework assignment,” Charlie answered, unable to keep the grin off his face. “Finding Nick's giggle.”

“Oh, I see how it is. Well, I'm pretty certain there was no giggle there, so good luck with that.”

“Well, that was just phase one. Plenty more to come.”

Nick just smirked. “Has anyone ever told you that you're weird?”

Charlie ignored him. “So, knees, seemingly ticklish – noted.”

Nick's expression changed then, to something that Charlie didn't like the look of. “Do you know who else has ticklish knees? My very weird boyfriend.” Before Charlie could blink, Nick's hand shot out to his knee and squeezed back, getting more leverage than Charlie had managed. The sudden and intense ticklish sensation shooting up Charlie's thigh produced a startled giggle in the mostly silent classroom that he couldn't stifle in time. He clapped a hand over his mouth, blushing.

“Charlie, Nick! Quiet down, please,” called Mr Lange.

When they caught each other's eye a second later, they both leant over their desks in silent laughter.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

The next day, they were studying in a quiet corner of the library during a free period, with their backs against the shelves and textbooks spread around them. Charlie had already finished his work but he was always happy to keep Nick company.

And if the opportunity arose, perhaps continue with his separate Nick-related assignment.

Twenty minutes in, Nick was on the final page of his history essay, with Charlie mostly watching him work, and chipping in with helpful information when he could. He started absent-mindedly trailing his finger along Nick's forearm, stroking back and forth. After a few minutes, Nick paused.

“You're being quite distracting, you know,” he smiled.

Charlie immediately withdrew, sheepishly. “Oh um, sorry.”

“No no, it's okay, it's, um – it's a nice type of distraction,” Nick said, flushing slightly. “You don't need to stop.”

Charlie looked at his feet, smiling shyly, and continued the soothing motions on Nick's arm. He felt Nick's relaxed exhale a moment later.

After a couple more minutes, Charlie was getting a little restless, and a slightly dangerous thought entered his mind. He looked down at Nick's side, perfectly exposed as his arms were raised to write in his book which was balanced on his bent knees.

He couldn't, could he?

Charlie took a look around – there was no one within sight, but the library wasn't empty. It was as quiet as you'd expect from such an environment. He slowly shifted his hand that was caressing Nick's arm, and casually moved it down to trail his fingers lightly over Nick's side instead. Nick immediately jerked away in surprise, but still no giggle – dammit.

Nick turned to look at him. “Don't you dare,” he said warningly, but Charlie could easily spot the amused glint in his eye.

“Don't what?” Charlie asked innocently. “Finish your homework.”

And surprisingly, Nick did. Bless his trusting soul. However, it was as he was writing the very last paragraph that Charlie just couldn't resist a second attempt. This time, he was determined to produce some sort of audible reaction from him. He knew he'd have to be quick because Nick would surely be expecting it at this point, and the rugby player had lightning-quick reactions. So Charlie waited until Nick was deep in concentration, scribbling away, before he reached for his side again and dug his fingers into the flesh more firmly. Nick didn't manage to move away quite as quickly this time and Charlie got a few good squeezes in - Nick's gasp and slight yelp were music to his ears.

“Oh I'm sorry, what was that?” Charlie asked, far too pleased with himself.

“You're ridiculous,” Nick retorted, but he was grinning widely. He'd only shifted to the left slightly, hadn't blocked Charlie's hand as he usually would, so Charlie decided to try his luck and moved up a little higher, feathering fingers over his ribs through his shirt. Nick's nose scrunched up adorably and a second later he was actually laughing – admittedly quietly, and it wasn't quite the uncontrollable giggle he was aiming for, but Charlie's heart still clenched at the adorableness of it as he watched Nick's eyes clench shut and felt him squirm against the sensations. He also noted that Nick could easily get away if he really wanted to, but he hadn't moved. Definitely not torture, then.

A few moments later, just as Charlie became bolder and travelled towards his armpit, Nick's hand finally came down to block him. “Ch – Charlie,” he managed around a soft gasp. “Stop.”

“Sorry, I didn't quite catch that?”

Nick rolled his eyes, breathing slightly heavily. “God, that was intense – I had to stop you before I really started cackling. We're in a library, you maniac.”

Charlie pouted dramatically. “But I wanted to hear you giggle.”

“Tough,” Nick replied, smiling. “Also, why do you keep doing this in places where we need to be quiet?”

“It's more fun that way.”

“I'm not sure if I like this new, rebellious Charlie.” The lingering kiss Nick gave him a second later was a pretty strong argument to the contrary.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

After his recent success, Charlie abandoned his mission for a few days. The plan was to lull Nick into a false sense of security, but based on the way he put up almost no resistance in the library, Charlie probably didn't have much to worry about. The memory gave him a little thrill whenever he thought about it. However, he still hadn't fully scratched that itch and he was nothing if not determined.

On Friday night, Nick was round at Charlie's house and they were sitting on the edge of his bed, mostly making out and occasionally playing Mario Kart. Charlie won every time, of course. After his third loss, Nick was so worked up that he thwacked Charlie in the face with a pillow and Charlie couldn't stop cackling.

“I'm really never gonna let you win, you know,” Charlie said firmly, after he'd calmed down.

Nick sighed. “Yeah, I know.” He flopped backwards onto the bed dramatically. “Maybe we need to find a game I'm good at.”

“Sorry, not sorry.” He looked at Nick out of the corner of his eye. “I feel like you need some stress relief.”

Nick raised his head from his lying position. “Are you going to give me a massage?” he asked, all hopeful puppy dog eyes.

Charlie giggled, shaking his head. “Maybe later. I've got a better idea.” He deftly climbed onto the bed and sat himself on Nick's calves, facing him. “A cliche once told me that laughter is the best medicine, so I think we should test that theory.”

Nick just frowned as he watched him. “Charlie...”

“Are you seeing where I'm going with this?” Charlie asked, smirking at Nick's adorably confused expression.

“I'm not sure, but it definitely doesn't seem like I'm about to get a massage.”

A thought struck Charlie. “Okay, fine, I'll give you a massage. How about a... foot massage?”

Nick's eyes widened. “Um, no, I'm – I'm good actually.”

Bingo. “Oh really? Why's that, then?”

“Um...” Nick sat up slightly and tried to move his legs, but they barely budged with Charlie's full body weight on top of them. His fate seemed to fully dawn on him then and he flopped backwards, hands covering his face and a nervous laugh bubbling out of him. “Shit.”

“So first thing's first – socks. You won't be needing those.” Charlie reached behind him and, with some skill considering he couldn't see what he was doing, slowly peeled off Nick's socks one at a time. Even just these simple movements caused Nick's feet to twitch slightly, and Charlie bit back a smile. He'd surely hit the jackpot here.

“Would you mind telling me what you're doing?” Nick asked, clearly attempting to give him the stink eye through the gaps in the hands covering his face.

Charlie thought about it. “Homework,” he said simply, before reaching back to run a single finger gently along the arch of Nick's bare foot. The reaction was immediate and delicious – the scrunching of the toes, the panicked gasp of “Charlie!”. Charlie chuckled and brought his hand back in front of him.

“This is so unfair,” Nick whined, trying again to shift his feet but with absolutely no success.

“Consider it payback for the many times you've reduced me to a squealing mess.” He leaned closer, to whisper in Nick's ear. “You're about to get wrecked, Nelson.”

“I – no – come on, please -”

“Begging already, are we?”

“Will it make you stop?”

“Definitely not. We have to find that giggle.” He paused, struck with a sudden thought. “Oh and by the way, your safeword is bubblegum.”

“I – okay – but Charlie -” Nick screwed his eyes shut. The anticipatory giggles were already starting to sneak their way out of him, and Charlie's heart melted at the sound. He leaned forward again to press a kiss to the tip of Nick's nose.

“You're so fucking cute – I haven't even started yet,” Charlie smiled.

“Yeah, but -” Nick ran his fingers through his hair anxiously. “My feet are so ticklish, I might actually die.”

“Well, the ticklish truth is finally coming out. Also, you definitely won't die. Now stop distracting me.” He reached behind him again with his right hand, hovering close to Nick's foot for a few moments for dramatic effect. Nick groaned loudly as the seconds passed.

“Such a tease...” he muttered.

When Charlie could hold back no longer, he went straight for Nick's arch with purpose, scribbling his fingers vigorously over the soft skin. To his delight, Nick fell to pieces instantly, emitting a high-pitched squeal that Charlie had definitely never heard him make before. It was immediately followed by chuckles which quickly turned into desperate, breathy giggles as Charlie moved up to scratch at the back of his toes.

“No no no no no, Charlie ple - hease -” Nick spat out through giggles, his face scrunched up in a beautiful combination of euphoria and torture. His hands gripped the pillow behind his head. Charlie didn't let up, focusing in on the base of his big toe that was evidently incredibly ticklish based on the strangled cry he let out, and in a moment of pure evil, Charlie reached behind him with his other hand and attacked both big toes at once, producing a new bout of uncontrollable laughter. He didn't turn around as he didn't want to miss a second of Nick's helpless reactions.

“Yep, this is how I d-die,” Nick managed to get out, writhing from side to side in ticklish desperation.

“How does it feel, Nick? Do you promise never to tickle me again?” Charlie knew he didn't actually want this, but he also knew Nick would never agree to it either.

“I can never p-promise that – oh god, stohohop -” Charlie had moved back down to the arches of his feet in just the right spot, and Nick's hips bucked as the giggles poured out in a constant stream. Charlie wished he could bottle the sound. He focused on the killer spots of Nick's feet for a solid few minutes, often giggling along with him as he worked his magic, but listening carefully for any utterances of the safe word. It was only when Nick's laughter turned completely silent that he let up. He pulled his hands back to his front but stayed perched on Nick's legs, watching him recover fondly.

“I hate you,” Nick said weakly, a few moments later. “I also love you, but I hate you. Just so you know.”

Charlie just grinned and leaned forward to lie gently on top of him, resting his chin on Nick's chest. “I love you too,” he said, suddenly feeling bashful and overwhelmed with affection. “I can't really deal with how cute you are.”

Nick just rolled his eyes and smiled at him. “Do you know who else is cute? My very ticklish boyfriend.” And Charlie should have predicted what would happen next as Nick's hands reached greedily for his sides.

He wasn't really complaining.

#heartstopper #heartstopper tickle #heartstopper tickle fic #charlie spring #nick nelson #lee!nick #lee!charlie #ler!nick #ler!charlie #ticklish nick #ticklish charlie

[kittyball23]

How about a short fic of how poppy was so happy that she got to dance with brozone mostly Bitty B, and Branch reminds her he not that kid anymore getting a rizz out of her but their soon kiss gets interrupted by john

Sure :)

Baby No More (a Trolls fanfic)

It was only after the exciting hype of the evening had fizzled down into something more cool and collected that Branch and Poppy found the opportune moment to do as any couple would when they had a lovely sunset and each other - take a romantic stroll along the beach.

His larger blue hand gently entwined with her delicate pink one, Branch followed alongside his girlfriend’s light, energetic steps as she merrily skipped, swinging their conjoined arms back and forth, and guiding them to and fro from the white, foamy surf as it washed up against the shore.

Branch shook his head at her antics. “Don’t you ever get tired?” he questioned.

“Nope!” she chirped, not a hint of hesitation in her voice.

“Well,” Branch began to reply, “I know I’d be after all that dancing.”

“Come on, Branch, it was fun!” Poppy chided. “What’s the use of being in a band if you can’t bust out a move, huh?”

“Singing,” the blue Troll replied easily. “Isn’t that the most important thing of being in a band?”

“The most important thing about being in a band is having fun with your bandmates and your music,” Poppy stated matter-of-factly, “and I should know since” - she paused to giggle - “I’m in a band now!” She gave a delighted squeal and stopped them in their tracks so that she could give him a big hug. “Oh thank you, so, so much, Branch!!”

“Poppy, you don’t have to thank me,” Branch wheezed, nearly out of breath from the tightness of her embrace, “I mean, you knew it was gonna happen eventually, right?”

“NO!” she exclaimed with a flail of her arms. “I was SO not expecting that. Do you know how BIG this is for me?!” She grabbed him by the shoulders and looked him right in the eyes. “I’ve been wanting to dance with BroZone since I was a little girl! Oh, and it was BETTER than I could’ve ever hoped for!”

Branch chuckled when her fangirl-mode kicked in hard, the Pop Queen fanning herself and rapidly pacing back and forth on the sand. “Oh my gosh, I STILL can’t believe it! Me onstage with The Leader! And The Heartthrob! And The Fun Boy and The Sensitive One!…”

The blue Troll rolled his eyes. “Yeah, we’re prooobably gonna have to think up new nicknames to give ‘em…”

She turned on him with a sparkle in her eyes. “Aw, and we definitely can’t forget about you, Bitty B the Baby!” She squished his cheeks in a loving manner, giggling, though Branch didn’t quite share in the amusement she had.

“... and we’re starting with mine,” he finished, continuing off of his earlier statement. He gently removed her hands from his face and held onto them firmly, speaking to her slowly so she could hear him very clearly. “Poppy, you do know that I am NOT a baby anymore, right?”

“Yeah, of course I know,” Poppy laughed. “I mean, a baby wouldn’t be able to do this, would he?” Batting her lashes, she leaned in closer to his face, eyes fluttering shut and lips puckering slightly. Branch felt his heart race. Poppy was getting far more comfortable exchanging kisses more frequently with him, and he was certainly not going to be one to deny her whenever she wanted one.

“No, he wouldn’t,” Branch whispered, right before he closed the gap and pressed his mouth to hers.  Her lips were warm and soft, perfectly smooth against his like they always were, nearly able to take him away completely from the world around him - if it wasn't for the rambunctious cheering that sounded.

“All right, YEAH! Now that’s how a man gets things done!”

Branch groaned, breaking apart from the sweet smooch earlier than he would have liked to shoot a glare at the only brother who probably would interrupt such a moment without seeing anything wrong with it (and, who always seemed to pop in out of nowhere at just the wrong moments!).

When John Dory caught his intense gaze, he became sheepish and stammered an apology. “Whoops! Oh, sorry… I guess I probably shoulda waited till afterwards to start cheerin’ then, huh?”

“Yeah,” Branch answered tersely, crossing his arms.

“Heh, my bad! Um, see you later, I guess?” JD said, not waiting for a reply and scampering off to wherever he had so suddenly come from.

Branch rolled his eyes and met Poppy’s gaze. “I think we should make his new nickname ‘The Blockhead.’”

Poppy gasped and shoved him in the shoulder. “Branch! That’s mean!”

He laughed. “It’s just a joke, Poppy, I’m kidding.”

“Good,” she huffed. Grabbing his hand, she leaned in close to him again. “Now, where were we?”

Branch smirked and met her halfway, never one to be tired of displaying his affection to her.

**********************************************************

(btw, @happyqueenandgrumpydork, for the other oneshot request of yours about the broppy kiss at the end of TBT, did you want the perspective of Branch or Poppy? I'm going to work on writing it this weekend 🙂)

#trolls #trolls 3 #trolls band together #broppy #branch trolls #poppy trolls #john dory #dreamworks #fanfiction #kittyball writes #thanks for the ask! #kittyball answers #100+

[moni-logues]

The Surface

banner by @sailoryooons

Pairing: prince merman!Hoseok x sea witch!reader

Genre: fairytale AU/The Little Mermaid AU, smut

Summary: Prince Hoseok has only ever wanted one thing: to experience life on the Surface. You have only ever wanted Prince Hoseok. When he comes to you, desperate, claiming you are the only one who can help him, you decide to play along. You'll help him achieve his dream and maybe you'll satisfy your own dream, too.

Word count: 20k

Content: unprotected sex, oral sex (m. receiving), Hoseok has sex with someone but he thinks they're someone else, if you're incredibly squeamish, there may be some body/pain stuff that makes you go 😖, potentially a litt yandere-vibed

A/N: Happy my birthday eve to you, dear reader!!!!! This is my very first toe-dip into the world of fantasy/spn!! AND my first collab!!!!! Pleeeeaaassseeee read the warnings (and please!!!! let me know if I'm missing any or any are insufficient). I'm so excited; I struggled with plotting this fic and working out how to get it to do what I wanted and thid is actually v3.0 lmao BUT I'm really happy with it! And happy to be part of the Make Me Your Villain collab!!! Thanks to @daechwitatamic for beta-ng and yelling!!!!

*

Hoseok swam farther than he ever had before. Swam closer. He’d be inching forward and now he was close enough to be spotted; he knew that. He knew that that was too far, but he didn’t really care.

The first time he swam in this direction and saw the shadows of small boats cross over him, he’d bolted in a panic. Merpeople were not to be spotted by humans. Ever. So he’d raced away, not looking back.

But then he had the knowledge that humans sailed there. He knew that that stretch of water played host to life above its surface, too. They were little boats, not the huge ships he usually tailed. These were much smaller, with handfuls of humans sitting in them, pointing in the distance, holding little boxes up to their faces and lowering them again. Visible. Watchable. It was tantalising.

So he went back. Hung around and waited for a while. Did it again. Watched a boat sail over him and eventually drop anchor near the cove. Went back a third time. Saw the humans jump from the side of the boat into the water. Hung back.

The next time, he swam closer. And the time after that, closer still.

That particular day, he had time. Lots of it. There was nothing calling for his attention, nothing tying him to any place, so he edged closer and a little closer, until he could see so clearly their spindly legs kicking ineffectually through the water, their weird feet and tiny toes. He had never seen humans so close before. He wondered if anyone had. They were fascinating. They dived down and kicked back up, their limbs moving in the water to keep them afloat. They turned on to their backs, looking just like seals from below. They squealed and laughed and talked and Hoseok watched it all with rapt attention. What he wouldn’t have given to approach one. To have made contact. To have asked them all his questions.

He wished he had someone to tell. Someone who would receive the information with not even wonder—his hopes were not that high—but interest. He didn’t have anyone to share his discoveries with, his treasures, his excitement. No one else understood. Some people thought he was weird; others thought his interest in the human world was downright wrong.

But his excitement was palpable that day, floating so close to the humans, he could hear their voices. He could even just about make out their words. And then their speech took on a more urgent tone; there was more frantic splashing, some flailing of limbs. He looked around himself and rose until his head bobbed out of the water. He watched the humans spin, searching for something, pointing this way and that way, calling to each other, looking.

He wanted to help but he didn’t know how. He dipped back into the water and skirted around the edge of the group – still unseen—and then it hit him. He had been so focused on the humans that he hadn’t seen it.

The rip tide tugged him sideways with a vicious spinning force. He was lucky, because he lived in the sea and this was far from his first rip. It might have taken him unawares, but he was able to right himself and spiral through to the other side.

That was when he saw what they must have been looking for.

The rip had tossed him out on the other side of a sharp, rocky outcrop on the west side of the cove. It jutted far out into the sea, sheltering the shore from western winds, and he saw a human woman struggling to the surface.

Her limbs were slow and her face kept dipping under the waves until eventually, she just floated, barely moving at all, moving only with the rhythm of the waves. Hoseok watched with dread and fear curdling the excitement in his stomach. She was too still now, her face too low in the water. Something wasn’t right. There was something unnatural about the way she was lying there, suspended in the water.

Hoseok didn’t think before he acted. He kicked his fins and swam to her, wrapping one arm around her torso and hiking her upwards so her face was out of the water. He dragged her, swimming backwards, towards the shore. He was grateful there was a shore; the other side of the cove had nothing but sheer cliffs and sharp rocks.

He didn’t know what he would do when he reached the shingle beach, but being on land had to help, didn’t it? Land was where the humans belonged.

Hoseok dragged her as far out of the water as he could manage—which wasn’t very far because his tail churned the stones and wouldn’t propel him forwards, so he dragged himself, as well as this human woman, until only her legs were splashed by the waves.

He looked down at her, anxiety churning in his gut. How did humans die? Was she already dead? The thought was nauseating. He knew humans had hearts like merpeople did, so he pressed his hand against her chest and felt nothing. He pressed a hand against his own chest. Felt nothing. He pressed his fingers against the large artery he knew ran down his front and felt nothing. He pressed them to his neck and almost felt something, moved them around until he found the spot at which he could feel his blood pushing against them. He immediately transferred his fingers to the same position on the woman and felt the same thing.

He let out a heavy breath. Relief. At least she wasn’t dead.

But she also wasn’t awake.

“Hello?” he called lightly. “Uh, hello? Are you ok?”

She remained unmoved, but he could barely hear himself over the pounding of his frantic heart; maybe he was too quiet? Maybe merpeople couldn’t make noise outside of the water? He tried again but it elicited no response.

He watched her carefully, listening, training his ears towards her, tuning out the roar of the waves and the squawk of seagulls and the distant sound of voices. He concentrated hard, breathing carefully to slow his own heart, to quiet the thump of it against his ribs and the rush of blood through his veins. There was a wet gurgle as her chest rose and fell, coming from her mouth, but sounding from deep inside. Hoseok knew humans breathed through their mouths, not having gills of their own. So he knew she was breathing.

She was both alive and breathing. He sighed with relief. He could let his worry go and lean into his fascination.

He had never seen a human like this. Close enough to touch—he had touched her. Her hair was the colour of the sun, even wet through; the curls stuck to her skin and Hoseok dared to reach out and brush them from her face. As he took his hand back, he noticed he was shaking. Drops of water on her skin sparkled like gems, glinting in the daylight. The sun was hot—far hotter than he’d ever felt it in the water—and bright. The heat of it burnt away the water on her skin almost too quickly to notice. Hoseok didn’t think she looked all that different from a mermaid, not really. The legs made a difference, sure; she had no gills in her ribs; the webbing in her fingers was reduced to nothing, each digit separated down to the palm. But really, what difference did those things make?

He thought her a wonder. He thought her the most beautiful, fascinating thing he’d ever seen. Her rosebud mouth, lips open and plump. Her skin was smooth and dark; he looked stark next to her. Her torso was whole, one expanse of skin stretching around her back and ribs. Hoseok placed a hand to his gills, fingers playing along the edge; they were flapping uselessly in the dry air. He smoothed them down with his hand, imagined his torso like hers, uninterrupted.

He lay with his tail next to her legs. He tried to picture it split in two, tried to picture himself walking on two feet, upright. He wasn’t the longest merman, but how did that compare to humans? The woman by his side seemed long—were all other humans, too? He figured he would probably never know and the rarity of this moment, the precarity of it, dented his enthusiasm a little. But, he reminded himself, for the rest of his life, he would have this. This human woman, lying next to him, seen by him, touched by him. He wondered how many other merpeople had done that.

He’d heard the horror stories, of course, the kind that teachers tell students to scare them away from the surface. He had never believed them, not entirely. There were bad humans, sure, but there were bad merpeople, too. And looking down at this human, this woman, he knew she was good. He felt a fluttering in his chest that made his breathing hitch. Made him feel almost breathless.

He wished she would wake up and see him. That wasn’t allowed, of course. It was absolutely forbidden to make your presence as a merman known to anyone who lived on the surface. But, who had to know? Just this once. Just this once, Hoseok could have his dream come true, couldn’t he?

She blinked once, then twice, and rolled over to cough and splutter, and he panicked. The tranquillity of the moment was gone. He heard the sound of seawater hitting stone as she choked and it spilt from her lips. He didn’t know what that meant. He watched her back heave as she coughed and was gripped by an intense fear. He wasn’t bad; he didn’t break the rules; he didn’t have the stomach for it.

He was diving in the water before she had rolled back, before she had a chance to see him or even notice him. He had disappeared before he’d even made the decision to disappear. Maybe that was close enough. So much for his wishes to be seen. He just wasn’t brave enough.

Back in the water, he shuddered and realised he could breathe again. With his heart rate finally slowing, he swam towards home, his mind pre-occupied with daydreams about coming back to this shore, seeing more humans, learning some more; pre-occupied with the panic and relief and adrenalin of his last ten minutes.

Pre-occupied as he was, he didn’t see that his movements were being tracked. He didn’t see a royal aide, following at a distance, and then moving off towards the royal chambers when they made it back to court.

He didn’t see you either, though you could see him.

* * *

His mother came to see him the following day.

“Hoseok,” she began, in the quiet, stern voice that had always scared him as a child. “Do you think your father and I are stupid?”

He blinked. He hadn’t been expecting that and couldn’t see the reason behind it. That worried him. He was walking into a trap.

“No, of course not,” he answered, honestly.

“Then it will not surprise you if I say that we do know where it is you go in these waters.”

His blood turned to ice.

“We are all very well aware of your... interest in the surface. In humans and all their detritus.”

He opened his mouth to argue back but the expression on his mother’s face stopped him.

“We know you hunt out shipwrecks and follow boats along trade routes, searching the carcasses of their vessels for rubbish, hoping and waiting they might drop something valuable. We know how close you have got, Hoseok, to exposing yourself to the humans.”

He gulped. He knew he was in trouble. Probably a lot of trouble. He didn’t know what his punishment would be.

“We are not going to permit this any longer.”

That rankled. He was almost 21. An adult in any world. Permission? He found his voice.

“I wasn’t aware I needed permission to go anywhere.”

“You’re a prince, Hoseok, of course you need permission. And you no longer have it. So Sebastien will accompany you through your days for the time being, to ensure you do not go where you should not.”

“For the time being? How long is that exactly?”

His mother looked at him, impassive.

“For as long as your father and I tell him to.”

Then she swam away without bothering to say goodbye. Hoseok didn’t have any time to react before Sebastien was by his side.

“Good morning, my prince.”

Hoseok bit back a spiky retort and swam away, with Sebastien following at his fins. His mother couldn’t be serious. He was being chaperoned? It was an indignity. It was infantilising. It was entirely unnecessary. He flexed his hands into fists and out again, balling and stretching as he swam, as he carried on in his head the argument he wished he could have had with his mother. This would not do.

As he realised where he was swimming—with his new bodyguard—he stopped suddenly. He had been inadvertently leading Sebastien to his happy place, his treasure trove, the place where he kept all the so-called ‘human detritus’ he saved. He was sure his parents didn’t know about that and he didn’t want them finding out.

He swam away, ignoring Sebastien chatting idly at his side, and wondered just exactly what his parents knew. Had they seen him save that human woman? Had they seen how close he had come to being discovered? Is that what this was all about?

* * *

Hoseok looked miserable. Oh, he was smiling, and you were sure he was saying all the right things. But you knew. He was not enjoying his birthday party. There was nothing dazzling in his smile, no halo of light around his head. His laughter rang out, hollow and pitchy, not at all like the tumbling bells it usually was.

No, the prince was miserable. You were sure of it. You had noticed that he had been followed—was being followed—by one of the court’s highest-ranking aides; you saw him behind the prince at every turn, like a shadow, like a ghost. Maybe that was the problem.

You had been close as children, you and the prince, for a time. In that period when you were free, when society meant nothing to you, when prejudices and family feuds still hovered above your heads, out of reach. You had been friends and you felt it then, too, his brightness, his warmth. He didn’t care that the adults treated your family poorly; he did care that they treated you poorly. He didn’t know or care about what the adults said; neither did you. You were friends, the two of you, thick as thieves.

Then one day, all that hovered above you came tumbling down, pouring over you both like ice-water. It became more difficult then, to spend time together, to be friends. He never outright said it, broke up with you in a friend kind of way. You just ‘drifted apart’ because he was welcomed in where you were shunned; he was celebrated and everyone did their best to forget you ever existed.

You should have expected it. He was the prince, after all. And you were a sea witch. People said you were evil; the rumour had it that your whole family was. Matriarchal, and that was just the first problem. You had power. Your mother had had it. Your aunt. Their mother. The way you were told, it went back right to the very beginning. You were the latest in a very long line of very powerful witches.

It took you a long time to understand why that was used against you. You had power. Wasn’t that a good thing? You could do magic. You could achieve things no one else could. You could have made the entire sea a better place for everyone and everything living in it. But no one wanted your input; no one wanted to listen, to hear you. They wanted you to stay quiet. They wanted you to hide.

What boiled your blood was that you did. You stayed at the back, hid yourself away in a cave far from where the royal court lived: merpeople in coral towers and you, tangled in seaweed every time you so much as shook your head. You were older now and you knew full-well why they did it.

They were scared of you. They had always been scared of your family, but now, since the ‘tragic’ death of your mother, they were scared of you. Because you had a score to settle. Because you had a reason to hate them. You had vengeance on your mind.

Vengeance and Prince Hoseok.

Because no matter how much you hated it, no matter how much you didn’t want to want him, you did. You looked at him and your chest hurt with longing and your stomach roiled with hatred. How could it be that you could feel two things at once for the same person? You chose not to examine it these days. It had gone on too long and you were used to it. It felt like your natural state of being: hatred and love in equal measure. Fear and power.

No one had ever tested you. Not really. People came to you for silly little things like love potions and spells to make them smarter or charms to ward off hermit crabs from their gardens. No one wanted to see the full extent of your abilities. So you didn’t quite know what they were.

You toiled, testing yourself on little creatures, to see what you could do to them, how much you could transform them, how creative you could get. There had been a lot of failures at first, of course. So many. But then you started to succeed. And now you never failed. Everything you turned your hand to worked. Your mother had always said you were a natural and now you believed it, too.

You thought you could turn yourself into one of them if you wanted. Not that you did want. Never. Ever. You wouldn’t debase yourself, wouldn’t shame your ancestors with an attempt. But you could do it. That much you were confident of.

You were also confident of just how well you knew the prince. Better than he knew, you were sure. He probably didn’t realise quite what an open book he was to you. It was an open secret that he had a thing for life on the surface, but you saw so much more than that. He had never been able to hide from you: his enthusiasm, his wonder, his furtive glances around himself, the swift flick of his tail as he snuck between two large boulders, the fluidity and flexibility of his body the only things enabling him to sneak through. His little collection. Though ‘little’ wasn’t really the word for it, not anymore.

You had been to see it just once before. It was almost enough to impress you. His discoveries, his treasures, were displayed with such care, it almost touched you. These things, this tat, that he had found floating on the surface or buried in the seabed, he loved them. He treated them like something precious, not like the trash it so clearly was to the humans. It made your heart ache a little: his naivety, his innocence, his propensity for flights of fancy, his dreamy insistence on seeing the good in things, in people. In humans.

It was an open secret, this obsession of Hoseok’s, but it concerned his parents. Sure, he was only the youngest of seven sons—he wasn’t the heir—but he was still a prince. That made him valuable and important. It also meant he had to keep up appearances and it simply would not do to have a Prince of the Royal Court enamoured with... up there. So they had instructed one of their aides (a creeping, odious merman whom you avoided like the plague) to follow Hoseok around, to make sure he wasn’t getting himself into trouble.

Yes, you nodded to yourself, that was exactly what had happened.

*

Hoseok was getting sick of being followed around. It wasn’t even just that he couldn’t go to the surface; he couldn’t get a single minute of peace! Sebastien was always there and it was starting to grate quite uncomfortably.

He wasn’t enjoying the party and he was getting tired of pretending to enjoy it, so after taking a quick scan of the room, he turned tail and left. Sebastien followed, but Hoseok chose to ignore him.

“Leaving a party early?” you said lightly, as you caught him leaving the room. “Leaving your own party early? That’s not like you.”

His smile was a little tight when he flashed it your way.

“It’s only my party by technicality. No one will miss me.”

You merely raised your eyebrows slightly and raised one shoulder in a half-hearted shrug.

“I notice that you are also leaving,” he countered.

“Ah, once the host leaves, everyone else is free to go.”

His brow wrinkled a little and he scoffed.

“Don’t call me the host.”

“Careful,” you joked, “Sebastien here might tell your parents you’re being ungrateful. Look at all this opulence they prepared for you.”

He was about to spit something not entirely kind back at you before he realised that you were taking the piss. He rolled his eyes inwardly at himself. Of course you didn’t care. You never went in for this stuff anyway. He was surprised you had even shown up.

“I am being ungrateful. I would like them to stop looking out for me, stop doing things for me, stop-” he said, coming to such a sudden halt that Sebastien crashed into the back of him, “having me chaperoned like a child just because I like to swim a little farther than others.”

“I’m not sure it’s the distance they’re worried about.”

“Whatever. They just don’t get it. They think it’s dangerous.”

“What is?”

“The surface. Humanity. They think my collecting scraps from the seabed is somehow going to threaten all undersea life, trigger an apocalypse or something.”

“Ah.”

“They just don’t get it. They don’t get it. It’s not like I’m going to go up there and act like I’m human-”

“No? You could.”

He scoffed.

“Oh yeah, just go and flop around on the beach with my tail and my gills and everything. Great idea.”

“... You know I’m a fucking witch, right? I literally have the technology.”

Hoseok stopped suddenly again, looking at you, a little aghast, a little trepidatious. Then he laughed.

“Yeah, sure, one human coming right up!”

You laughed along with him, letting the subject drop, letting it be a joke. It had to be a joke with Sebastien listening in. But you were serious and you needed Hoseok to understand that you could do it. If he asked.

* * *

You thought about it more in the following days, as you watched the prince and his tormentor float around in the water. Hoseok couldn’t even blink without Sebastien there to watch him. You could feel his frustration, his impatience; you could see the dullness diminishing his shine; you could see the time it took for his lips to stretch into his signature heart-shaped smile expand—sometimes they barely made it at all. Was it the annoyance and inconvenience of having a chaperone in itself, or was he pining for a little adventure? Itching for a treasure hunt, fingers twitching to dig through sand and find something broken and useless to take back to his cave of wonders?

The whole sea knew. The prince was being monitored. The prince was being kept on a lead. A short one. There were whispers and gossip and speculation. The worst of these rumours was the one that told you his parents were doing this to get him ready for marriage. That he had been betrothed to a princess in the Caspian sea since before he had even existed and now they had both come of age, the marriage negotiations could begin in earnest.

That would not do. You could not have that.

Your own fingers were twitching; you were as frustrated as the prince, trying to work out a way to expedite this whole thing, to get things moving.

Someone’s hand would have to be forced, you realised. But whose? And to do what?

*

It hit you, quite suddenly, as you were drifting off to sleep one night. You had been picturing Hoseok amongst all his ‘objet d’art’: his happy face, his preening and polishing, his voice ringing out in a sweet, little tune—the one you liked to catch in your shells and store for later. It was obvious.

With each day that passed, the prince’s frustration grew. As did his misery and his little, daydreamy desires to experience life on the surface. With each day that passed, his parents were obliviously telling themselves that Hoseok was forgetting about it. He was integrating better with his peers, no longer always off on his own adventure; he was finally getting over this little ‘phase’.

It, actually, you thought to yourself as you caught the fleeting idea with a snatched hand, would work out quite nicely after all. You just had to be careful about tipping the scale.

*

Sebastien wasn’t stupid (you couldn’t get to his position if you were), but he wasn’t exactly sharp. You engaged him in a little idle chat while the prince was dining with his family. Commented on the prince’s interest in life ex-marina. Sebastien had responded a little too eagerly, sharing a little too much (not that he knew he was doing it—not sharp) so it was very easy for you to drop in that you had noticed the prince hadn’t been visiting his little shrine much recently. Sebastien played off his reaction so terribly that, even had you not been so perspicacious, it would have been clear he was bluffing, that you knew far more than he did and he was embarrassed by it. You shrugged, as if the conversation meant nothing to you, and glided away, certain that the seed had been planted.

All you had to do now was wait for it to sprout.

*

It took even less time than you expected. The sea over the next couple of days was a flurry of anxious activity. No official word had gone out, but something was happening and everyone knew it. Aides were everywhere, in every corner, under every rock, in every reef. The king and queen had an awful lot of staff at their disposal, so it wasn’t long before one of them turned up something very interesting indeed.

It was even quicker that the King stormed down to the prince’s little cave of wonders to give Hoseok what for.

You hung back and watched. Watched Hoseok’s face as it moved from dismay to anger, to fury. You had never heard him angry like that. It was thrilling. It was exciting. It was, you hated to admit it, sexy. He swam forward and you heard him confront his parents, heard his outrage.

But how his father roared. How he hovered above Hoseok, his youngest child, with a face like thunder. How his shouting rippled through the water, carrying it farther than you were sure he’d have wanted.

Hoseok put up a good fight, but he had no power. He wasn’t the heir; he had no leverage, not really. So, his father took his trident and destroyed everything. Even the very cave itself. It was rubble by the time he turned his back on his son and swam away. It was sand. Hoseok was left staring at what used to be his most prized possessions, his secret joy.

It almost hurt when you saw his face, his distress and despair. You watched him sink to the seabed and sob, then you turned around and swam away. You didn’t want to watch that. You didn’t need to. You just had to hope that it worked like you intended.

You slunk back to your cave—your presence having never been noticed—and waited for the prince to come to you.

*

Hoseok knew they were just things. He knew they were things most people would consider rubbish, garbage, trash, waste. But they weren’t rubbish to him. They were prizes. They were trophies. They were secrets. They were hints of another life, another way of living. They were like the key to a code. If he collected enough, maybe he would understand what life on the surface was like. Maybe once he had enough human things, he would be able to experience Personhood by proxy.

He had always known he would never go there. Could never go there. It just wasn’t done. Not even for a prince. Especially not for a prince. But his parents couldn’t order him to stop dreaming. So he dreamt and he collected and he treasured. He knew no one approved of what they called his ‘obsession’ with the surface. He didn’t care. They didn’t understand. They didn’t see what he could. They were so entrenched in their own, bigoted ideas that they couldn’t open their minds for a second to the possibility that maybe humans weren’t so bad. Maybe they had their problems, but they also had their wonders.

Even outside of his personal curiosity, he had always thought that some sort of treaty with the humans would be advantageous. They were lucky, in his sea, that the water was kept mostly clear, that oil spills only reached them as news. Their unfavourable interactions with humans were limited, but Hoseok knew that wasn’t the case elsewhere. He thought, if they could communicate with them, that maybe agreements could be reached. A relationship with the world on the surface could be mutually beneficial.

No one else saw it that way.

He sat on the sand and wept, cried, sobbed, for his secret little things that were no more. No longer secret and no longer there. He scooped up fragments of them in his hand and let them drift back down. He sifted through rocks and pebbles and sand to see if anything had been left intact, if anything was salvageable. But his father was thorough. And powerful. And there was nothing left.

* * *

The flurry of activity stopped and was replaced by an awkward tension. No one had seen the prince since the argument with the king. No one dared approach either king or queen, not even the other princes. People moved so slowly through the water, as if they were scared to cause too much of a ripple. The rhythm of everything had been upset.

For no one more than the prince. He lay on the sand next to what used to be his happy place for hours, until the sea grew dark and he should have been back at home with his family. The very thought made him sick. He couldn’t. Wouldn’t. The thought of seeing his parents again made bile rise in his throat. His blood boiled with an anguished kind of anger he had never experienced before.

Once he had stopped crying, he spent some time staring around in disbelief. He couldn’t believe that all his things were gone, but he also couldn’t believe that his father had done it. The royal family was a Happy Family, officially, but they were also usually happy in actual fact. Arguments were few. Discord uncommon. There had been little cause for friction amongst them in his life. He wasn’t used to this. He and his brothers fought as kids, but never seriously; no one ever tried to rebel in any meaningful kind of way. It was a peaceful kingdom and that peace started at the very top.

Or so it had been. Even that had been destroyed now. Peace was the very last thing on the prince’s mind. He was torn between his anger and his despair. He wanted to hurt his father, very badly. He wanted to show his father that he wouldn’t let this stop him, that not even the King could break him. He knew he was right about humans, about humanity. He would show him. He also wanted, with a kind of frenzied desperation, to set off over the oceans and retrieve a new artefact for each and every one that he’d just lost.

As time passed and the sun disappeared from overhead, his whirring mind, his racing heart, began to slow and a tiny spark of hope burst in him. There was a way, he had realised. Or, he thought there might be a way. There was a possibility. There might be a possibility. If anyone would have the answer, it would be you.

*

He called your name and it roused you from a mid-morning nap. You sauntered to the cave mouth and your face pulled into surprise at the sight of him.

“Prince Hoseok, what are you doing here?”

He looked a little hesitant, peering behind you at the darkness of the cave, wondering what lay back there, if all the rumours were true. He knew you. You had been close at one point. He knew you so this was fine. He could trust you; he knew he could. You weren’t going to hurt him. You weren’t like they said. Well, in one way, he hoped you were; he hoped you were every bit as powerful as people said because, lord knew, he was going to need some powerful magic. Powerful magic the likes of which could topple the royal family, people said. What care did he have for the royal family now?

 But, the evil part... He hoped that wasn’t true. You’d never given him cause to believe so before.

Still, waiting at the entrance to your home (your ‘lair’ as some called it and Hoseok was never sure if they were joking or not), he felt timid. Small. Not like a royal prince, but like a supplicant. Which, really, he supposed, he was.

“I’m here to ask you to do something for me.”

You couldn’t deny your intrigue. You gestured for him to follow you inside.

He did so slowly, his eyes darting around at all your shelves, full of stuff, fuller even than his own treasure trove had been. He couldn’t imagine what might be in all the containers, what secrets or tonics or poisons they might be holding. He had no idea what it was you did, really. You were the Sea Witch and that was bad enough for most people to never ask anything more... Until they needed you, of course. Hoseok had never needed you, not until now, so he had never paid your work much attention. You flew under the radar for the most part, which was entirely by design.

“Ok,” you said, as you perched yourself on a soft bed of anemones that Hoseok didn’t dare touch. “What can I do for you?”

He took a deep breath, a steeling breath.

“I want to be human.”

You pretended to be surprised, but that was exactly what you had been hoping for. Only an idiot would have been surprised by his request, especially given what had just happened.

“Human, huh? Finally pulling the trigger?”

He looked reluctant to say any more. You raised one eyebrow at him and held his gaze. He looked away.

“My parents don’t understand a thing. They don’t know anything about humans. I want to know. I have to know. They-... My parents can’t control me.”

You shrugged and nodded and caught the look of surprise on Hoseok’s face as you turned to gather some ingredients from the other side of the cave. He hadn’t thought it would be that easy.

It wouldn’t be.

You gathered the necessary items and tipped first one, then another, into the large conch you used for mixing spells.

“You... you can do it?” he asked and you chose not to be offended by the question.

“Of course I can.”

“You... will do it?”

“I will.”

The relieved smile on his face could have lit your cave for weeks. His teeth shone and his eyes sparkled as he laughed and clapped his hands. Victory.

“Thank you! I don’t know how I can repay you.”

“Don’t get ahead of yourself, sunshine. There are conditions to all this, you know.”

His face settled back into seriousness, his brow knitting above his eyes. He nodded fervently.

“Yes, of course. I understand. What do I need to do?”

You paused, leaning one hand on the edge of your giant shell and looked at him with a firm, fixed stare.

“You get three days,” you told him. “Three days as a human. You’ll be human before lunch, so noon on the third day will see you turning back as you are now.”

“Oh.”

His disappointment was palpable, but that worked to your advantage, too. You forced a light chuckle.

“I’m good, Hoseok, but I’m not that good.”

(You were, in fact, that good, but he didn’t need to know that).

“Of course! Yes, three days. That’s great.”

“There is a way you can stay longer than that, but it’s not in my power.”

“What does that mean?”

You pushed off the ledge and rounded the basin, coming to a stop in front of him. You didn’t miss the two inches that he scooted backwards away from you. At a different time, under different circumstances, this might have offended you, but you had a reputation; you could hardly blame him for his timidity. He had never seen you do anything like this before.

“You have to put down roots.”

“Right... What does that mean?”

“You have to find a human woman and plant a seed.”

Hoseok continued to look at you blankly, until you rolled your eyes.

“Fornicate. Copulate. Mate. Breed. Fuck.”

His eyebrows shot towards his hairline.

“Oh... Within three days?”

“Is that a problem?”

“No!” His answer was too quick and his blushes beetroot. He cleared his throat. “No, it’s fine, but... You said plant a seed. You mean... a child?”

“Mhmm.”

He blinked, his mind reeling. You gave him a second to process.

“How do I guarantee that? It has to be a child? There has to be... it has to...?”

You nodded.

“If you want to stay up there, you need some connection to it. You need a tether. Just how it works.”

“Oh, right...”

He was nodding, but he wasn’t looking at you. You could see his eyes were far away; he was thinking.

He was worrying. Would three days be enough? And bringing a child into this? Could he? Doubt was beginning to creep in at the sides, but he couldn’t let it. He had to see this through. It felt like his only chance. And you’d already said yes. You could do it. He could almost taste it, he was so close. He had to keep going. He could deal with the seed problem later; he could hardly think about putting down roots when he didn’t even have legs to stand on. First things first and the first thing was becoming a human.

“There’s also something else I need from you,” you told him.

“Anything.”

“I just need a little piece of you. In order to make this work, I need a little tether to you.”

“You need to tether to me? But doesn’t that keep me tied here?”

You liked it when they asked questions. You smiled, benignly, but your eyes glinted wickedly.

“It keeps you tethered to me, the one with the magic? The one who’s transforming you? We can skip that step if you like, but then the spell will do absolutely nothing.”

“Oh.”

He blinked and then nodded.

“Ok, makes sense. Yeah, ok, what do you need?”

“Come here.”

You beckoned him to your side and he obeyed quietly. You took his hand in yours and plunged it into the shell; then you placed your other hand on his chest.

“Hold still; this won’t hurt.”

“What are you taking?”

“Just a little bit of soul.”

He flinched and you had to tighten your fingers around his wrist to keep it there.

“Relax, you won’t even notice it missing. And keep still, I need to concentrate.”

You closed your eyes and tapped lightly on his chest with your fingers, looking for a tap. Once you found the spot, you dug your finger in a little harder, focused hard and turned it on. You channelled it through Hoseok’s arm and tipped it into the shell through his fingers.

You were right: it didn’t hurt. He felt a weird pulling sensation in his chest and then it dragged down his arm; it was a little uncomfortable, certainly something he’d never felt before, but it didn’t hurt exactly. He wanted to look and see what his soul looked like, pouring out, but he couldn’t bring himself to open his eyes.

His soul was sweet like nectar and it shimmered as it settled atop the other ingredients. You could feel its pulse, strong in Hoseok’s heart, its rhythm airy and delicate with a stable bass. You liked it. You liked it a lot. You could feel your own shimmer in response to it; you could feel your heart flutter when you let a little of him inside it. You bit your lip to stop a smile. Once you had what you needed for the spell, you siphoned off just a little extra for yourself. Nothing he would notice – you were always careful about that.

You held him there a minute longer, just absorbing, marinating a little. Sometimes this was the worst part of the job. Some people’s souls were vile, horrid, dark, acrid, smoking things; the taste they left in your mouth wouldn’t shift for days. This, though, was delectable. If you’d had another plan in mind, you might have taken more, maybe even all of it; you weren’t sure how you managed to stop yourself.

You shouldn’t have been surprised by its sweetness. It was Hoseok. He was like that. Of course his soul would be pure as sunlight itself. It was the lightest soul you’d ever held. Almost light enough to make you feel bad for doing all this.

Almost.

“Ok,” you began, letting him go and creating a little more space between you. “We’re done.”

Hoseok opened his eyes and looked down at his tail.

“We are?”

You laughed, not unkindly.

“Yes. You might want to start swimming while I finish this off. Surface is a long way up from here.”

“Oh. But... it’ll work? I’ll be...-”

“It’ll work. Trust me. And take this.”

You thrust a little package, wrapped in fisherman’s netting, into his hands.

“Now go on. Get.”

He nodded, first a little uncertainly, but, as if he was convincing himself, each bob of his head grew surer until he was turning around and swimming straight out of your cave and up, up, up.

You gave everything in the shell a swirl, a mix, let it coalesce, then you placed your hands on the bottom and forced heat through them, so much heat that the concoction boiled, the sea water steaming around you. It bubbled and it boiled until there was nothing left in the shell but a pearl. You picked up this pearl and placed it into a clam. You shut the clam over a cord and tied it around your neck. You were going to want to keep this one close.

*

Hoseok was swimming so hard he barely noticed it at first. Then his tail was tingling. Then it began to hurt. Hurt enough to slow him down, to almost stop him completely. It was a wrenching, tearing, searing kind of pain that made him cry out, that made dark spots dance in front of his eyes and his head feel light. He couldn’t quite tell if his tail was moving or not; there was blinding pain and very little else, but he knew he was getting close to the surface. He couldn’t stop now.

In the space of three kicks, his tail became two, and Hoseok was overwhelmed by the agony of saltwater in his wounds. He couldn’t stop, couldn’t look, couldn’t do anything but try not to die. Try not to drown. He kept kicking, kept pulling with his arms, but his fingers were no longer webbed and they didn’t grab the water like before.

Swimming as a human, it turned out, was every bit as inefficient as it looked. He tried to move his legs in tandem, to kick and flick like he did with his tail but they wouldn’t cooperate; they couldn’t bend like his tail could, didn’t have the flexibility. Every movement sent a fresh surge of pain racing through him and he was finding it hard to breathe through it.

And then he stopped being able to breathe at all. He clutched at his ribs with one hand, expecting to feel his gills, but there was nothing. He opened his mouth to gasp and his throat was full of salt water in a way that felt wrong, uncomfortable, painful. In a way that made him panic. His lungs were burning, his throat was burning, his legs were burning; everything, everything, felt like it was on fire.

His heart was humming, beating so fast it vibrated against his ribs. He couldn’t think clearly, coherently, at all. It was all just a screaming panic, shouting and squealing and howling for him to get out, get out, get out of the water.

When he finally broke clear of the sea’s surface, he choked and gasped and coughed up water. It stung in his eyes and the taste of salt was so strong, it made him gag. He looked about himself to find the nearest shore and saw none in sight. He knew where he was; he saw the sea, his underwater kingdom, in his mind and he knew how to find the nearest shore. He just had to get there.

*

He dragged himself out of the waves, spent. There wasn’t a single muscle in his body that wasn’t crying out; he had never found swimming difficult before. It had always been as easy as breathing, but that, too, was difficult as a human. He swallowed seawater that made him sick, accidentally breathed it in and choked, found his breathing growing laboured and heavy when he was still miles from shore.

He lay on the shingle beach for a while, waiting to feel something other than pain. Pain and heaviness. Every movement was an effort. Every movement took active thought, especially his legs. He pushed himself into a sitting position and turned his attention to the package you gave him. He unwrapped it and unfolded fabrics—soaked through, of course. Hoseok had seen people wear clothes in books before but he’d never seen any in real life. He wondered where on earth you got them from. He briefly wondered if he wanted to know.

And despite everything: the pain, the exhaustion, the fear, the dread that was starting to settle in his stomach as the adrenalin faded, Hoseok was excited. He had human garments in his hands. They were his and he was about to wear them. He was human.

Human.

*

The awe and wonder didn’t last long. The friction of the fabric against his skin was almost unbearable. Was his skin sensitive or were the fabrics rough? He couldn’t tell but he could feel each tiny swish, each brush against him as he moved, with every swing of his arm and every step of his feet. It felt like the top layer of his skin was being slowly rubbed away, his soft, supple skin becoming red and raw and oh so sensitive.

The steps hurt, too. The shingle under his feet felt almost pleasant compared to the torching pain he felt in his legs. Like they were being cut open every time, like he was splitting his tail over and over and over again, the torture wouldn’t end.

He felt so heavy. Leaden. Like he barely had the energy to lift his feet at all. He put this down to the swim, the physical trauma, the lack of sleep he’d had that night. But he’d never felt the weight of his body so heavily before. In the water, he floated. The water kept him buoyed; the water supported him, carried him; he moved through it like he weighed nothing at all. On land, he felt no support. On the contrary, he felt as if the air itself were pushing him down, keeping him stuck to the ground, as if it didn’t want him to move anywhere.

It wasn’t at all like he had expected. He wished you had warned him about the pain. He wished he had known a little more before walking into this – literally walking! He was walking! On two feet! It was agony.

Trying to keep his head straight, he knew the first thing he should do was find food. He’d swum so far, he needed something. His stomach was gurgling in an angry, acidic roil that made him feel faint (or maybe that was the pain or the exertion or the atmosphere or or or). He was lucky that this beach was narrow and the town close. The shingle quickly gave way to grass, which was only slightly soothing on Hoseok’s feet, and then the grass gave way to paving.

He followed the path in the only direction it went and it wasn’t long before he found people. Humans. So many of them. He stood, stock still, watching them. It was overwhelming. The sights and sounds and smells of them. There was food grilling, and children laughing, and market hawkers soliciting, and Hoseok had no idea which way to turn. He could barely think at all. He needed-

He didn’t know what. A rest. A break. To sit down? He walked to the nearest chair – a metal frame with metal seat, next to a metal table – and sat; the chair scraped backwards slightly and the scratch of it on the ground brought a man out from the cafe the chair was sitting in front of.

“Hey, you can’t sit there!” the man called, looking none too happy. “Customers only! Those chairs are for customers only!”

“Oh, oh ok,” Hoseok spluttered. “I can be a customer. I can buy, uh-”

“No! We’re not open yet! No service!”

Hoseok thought then that it should be fine for him to sit down if they weren’t open, if there were no customers yet, but the man continued to shout, to shoo him off, so Hoseok stood and moved away. He would just have to try again a little further down the road.

That cafe might not have been open, but there were market stalls with edible wares already cooked and out for consumption. He took a skewer proffered by a weathered old lady and ate it gratefully, even though it was dry and hard to chew. She then held her hand out expectantly and it was at that moment, Hoseok realised he had nothing to trade. What could he offer? He considered the neat, net package that you had provided his clothes in and brought it out of his pocket. He tried to hand it over but the woman started cursing at him in a language he didn’t understand. He backed away from her aggression and this was clearly the wrong move. She grabbed a large metal spoon and came around the side of her table, raising it above her head.

Hoseok ran. He hadn’t known he could run. Would have claimed not to be able to if you’d asked him to at that moment, but the panic set him going and his feet stomped, painful step after painful step, until he was, once more, breathing heavy and laboured, a sharp pain between his ribs stabbing him with every inhale.

This was going to be harder than he thought.

*

He eventually sat at the side of the road, wondering how he was supposed to navigate this world he clearly knew nothing about. He had been arrogant in the sea. He thought he knew everything there was to know about humans. He had learnt about their culture, he thought; he had studied their ways of life, he thought. It was nothing compared to the real experience of being here. Nothing was how he expected. He was woefully unprepared.

Tears pricked in his eyes and he tried to keep them at bay because he had wanted this. He had asked for it. And you had done it for him. Hoseok realised with a shock just exactly what position this had put you in. The prince was nowhere to be found. He hadn’t told anyone what he was doing. The only person who knew was you. If they found that out, lord knew what kind of trouble you’d be in. They’d have your head if they thought you had brought him to any harm.

But you’d been willing. Supportive even. So he had to make this work. He had to make it worth it. For him. For you. He would make it work and he would return to the sea to explain everything: to show what he had achieved on the surface, to prove to everyone that humans weren’t like they all said. To prove that you had been the truest, kindest and most loyal friend he had. That you had given him all of it. That you weren’t like they all said, either.

He blew out a deep breath. There was a lot riding on this.

He knew he would eventually need somewhere to sleep, somewhere safe. He walked back towards the centre of the market and found a nice-looking woman selling necklaces.

“Excuse me,” he began, warily. “I need somewhere to stay.”

Her friendly smile faltered a little, frozen on her face as she tried to parse his words.

“Ok?” she finally returned.

“Can you tell me where I can... Is there somewhere I can sleep?”

“Uh,” she said, her face twisting into a kind of confusion that Hoseok felt he was being judged by. “I mean, you can get a hotel or something?”

“Ok, where do I get one?”

The woman looked around her, to see if anyone else was really hearing this. She shrugged.

“There are kind of a lot around. Take your pick. There’s one right there.”

She pointed over Hoseok’s shoulder at a white, stone building, and Hoseok’s smile was all the bigger for the relief he felt.

“Thank you!” he called, already making his way towards the hotel.

But things continued to be difficult. He didn’t have a ‘credit card’ for the hotel staff to ‘hold’. He didn’t know what that meant. They told him he couldn’t have a room if he had no method of payment. He tried to offer something else; he was a good swimmer, he said; he could dive for pearls? The two staff behind the reception desk gave each other the same look the woman on the stall had given him. They explained that they only took cash or credit. He didn’t have either of those two things.

He left the building and sat by the road, because there was nothing else he could do.

He tried so hard not to let doubt creep in, not to feel despair, not to start desperately wishing he had thought about this a little longer. He tried to remember things he’d learnt about the human world – things that would help him. But it was already so different here from what he had expected.

The stories he had grown up hearing about human interactions with his kind were awful; humans were brutal and cruel and hunted merpeople for sport. That kind of thing. But he thought they were kind to each other. They had a society. They governed each other: elected officials who were entrusted with their cities and countries. They made art and sang songs and raised animals whom they kept for companionship, rather than labour. Humans were resilient and tough and brave, social creatures. They came together in crisis and performed heroic feats to help others out of danger. Those were the humans he had imagined.

The ones he had experienced so far were not like that at all. Maybe they knew, he thought; maybe they could tell already somehow that he wasn’t one of them. He was different. He hadn’t even been a human for a day yet. Maybe he was doing things wrong. He was sure he wasn’t walking right—the pain made it impossible. He had shown up from the beach in clothes that had barely dried, were caked in salt. His hair was stiff and tangled with it, too. His face felt tight and rough. Maybe they were right to mistrust him.

But how could he fix it? What could he do?

He couldn’t stay there, sitting on the ground. People walking past were looking at him; it made him nervous. No one had been able to show him any generosity or kindness and the darkness of night was starting to cover everything. There were artificial lights hanging from every door, a warm glow from every window that served only to bathe the shadows in a dim, greyish light. Nothing was black, as it was in the deep ocean, but it was all muted, hard to make out, indeterminate. Scarier.

He had to get out of sight. He had to find somewhere safe that he could stay for the night. That was the most important thing.

As hot as it had been when he first arrived on the surface, he could feel the chill now. There was something naked about being out in the air, with no water surrounding him, enveloping him. Even through the fabric of his clothes (which still scored his skin with every movement), he felt the air move, felt it stiffen his skin and raise the downy hairs there. He needed shelter. He needed to be far away from people, for now. He needed to be sure that, if what the merpeople said was true, he would not come to harm this night.

It was with a heavy, sinking heart that he made his way back to the beach. He fell upon the shingle and didn’t even have the energy to cry out, to sob like he wanted to. He had never experienced pain or exhaustion like this. He had never felt so out of place—not just in this world, but in this body. Did all humans feel like this? Heavy and sore and stiff, with the world pushing down on you? His legs were still screaming; they were as unblemished and unmarked as they had been when he’d first checked them twelve hours ago, but the pain was so convincing, he thought he would look down and see his tail, mutilated, bloody, split in two just like he’d asked. 

He made his way very slowly, very carefully, to the end of the beach and the edge of the shore. With the cliffside to his right, there was protection from wind, at least, and it was deserted of people. He shuffled forward and sat with his legs straight out, letting the waves wash over his feet.

That was when he cried. He cried with abandon, without thought, without hope, with an aching, broken heart. He couldn’t quite believe that it was happening this way, that all of his dreams were crumbling in front of his eyes. He wouldn’t believe it; there was good in this world and he was determined to find it, but he had never felt so out of his depth. He had no idea what to do. He had no one, nowhere, nothing.

He looked at the waves as they splashed over his feet (feet!) and he imagined sinking into them, imagined them encroaching further and further onto the shore until he was swallowed up by them, swimming, drowning. Could he drown? He was human now and humans could drown, but he was really a mermaid... Would the magic revert? He remembered what you had said about keeping a tether to him; would you know if he were drowning? Could you see him now, pathetic and weeping?

You could. With his pearl at the bottom of your basin, you could conjure up his image and watch his drama play out in the rippling water.

But the sight didn’t bring you much joy. You worried that you had overestimated him, overestimated the humans. You had spent time on the surface but it was still a foreign world; you didn’t know everything. Maybe you should have prepared him a little more, lent him a little of your human currency. You had expected his grace and charm to carry him at least through the first night but he was a different person now. Well, he was a person, not a merman anymore. He was literally out of his element. A fish out of water.

You chuckled to yourself at that one. Then you frowned and rested your chin on your palm, pondering ways that you could make this work if he couldn’t do it on his own. You fingered the clamshell on your necklace and an idea started to form.

It could work. It wasn’t how you had envisaged this whole thing going but... It could work.

With a sigh, you placed the pearl safely back in its clam and floated off to your inventory: a powder there, some shellfish here, gathering together everything needed for yet another expensive spell.

If you need something doing, you thought to yourself ruefully, you’ve got to do it yourself.

* * *

Hoseok was starting to shiver on the shore—something that he had never experienced before and something he would be quite happy to not experience again. The way his muscles trembled and his skin hurt, still raw from the fabric, but bumpy now with goosebumps that made the friction all the worse. He took his feet out of the water and asked himself forlornly what on earth he should do, but he had no answer.

He scanned the horizon out to sea and saw nothing but washed-out darkness looking back at him. He scanned the beach and the land and his attention was caught by a light, wobbling in the darkness and growing larger. It was only when the person holding the lantern stepped foot on the beach that he could see there was a person behind it at all. If he had been less tired, less sad, less hungry, he might have worried, or he might have rallied and put his best foot (foot!) forward, or he might have hidden. But he could do none of those things. He sat and watched a young woman approach.

“Goodness, are you alright?” she asked, when he was close enough to see her form but not her face.

She wore the same thin shoes that a lot of people in the town had been wearing, barely covering her feet, and long, flowing fabric danced on the shingle above them. He could just about make out her light hair and her petite height, but the rest of her remained a mystery.

“I’m fine, thank you,” Hoseok replied, knowing that he was lying but not knowing if she would see that.

“Are you sure?” she queried. “It’s not safe to be out on the beach alone at night like this. I saw you sitting here and I thought you might be in trouble.”

A glimmer of hope flicked in Hoseok’s heart. Could it finally be: a human who was like he had always dreamt humans would be? Kind? Generous? Could he tell her? Could he share his woes? Would she ease his mind? Was this what he had been waiting for?

He decided he had no choice because his only other options were to drown in the sea or starve on this beach.

“I am in trouble,” he began. “I have nowhere to stay, no food, no money. I have nothing. I don’t know what to do.”

He tried to stop his voice cracking, but it cracked of its own volition. He didn’t want to be pitied; he just needed to be helped. But beggars can’t be choosers, he reminded himself.

“None at all?”

You took a couple of steps towards him, still not close enough that he could see your features clearly, but enough to suggest trust, to suggest comfort.

He shook his head in return.

“You should come with me.”

You could see the surprise on his face, the hope that lit it, the worry that creased his brow.

“Just for tonight,” you continued. “I can give you a bed so you can rest. You really shouldn’t stay out here all night.”

Hoseok rose to his feet, biting hard on his bottom lip to stop himself crying out as the pain surged once more.

���It’s not far,” you said, before turning back the way you had come.

Hoseok followed your lantern, back up the beach, down the path, and into the town. You led him into a narrow alley with a single door at the end. It was this door that you opened with a quiet creak, then you led him inside and up a single flight of steps.

“It’s not much,” you said, attempting to sound somewhat apologetic as you opened the door to the apartment.

It was sparsely decorated and the linens were grey in a way that suggested they hadn’t always been. The lightbulb in the ceiling was naked and dim. The plant on the windowsill looked crisp and parched.

You lived comfortably underwater, despite your status as social pariah, because people wanted your little potions and spells and you could charge through the nose for them. On land, it was more difficult. Humans weren’t interested in trading for things; they wanted cash and nothing but. That made it more difficult to be comfortable here. But you had shelter and food and that was more than the prince had.

Hoseok was nervous. He hadn’t known what to expect but somehow, this wasn’t it. He had heard of the way humans warred with one another, the way they oppressed and exploited other classes, the way most of them starved whilst the few indulged. This was so much more mundane. Nondescript. Boring. Homely.

He took a look at the woman now that he could see her properly in the cold light of the apartment. She was beautiful. Not unlike the woman he had rescued from the beach, he realised. Dark skin that somehow shimmered, golden hair that almost looked like a halo with the way it reflected light. Her eyes were dark, too, deep and rich and warm. She felt familiar to him, somehow, but he couldn’t pinpoint why. He knew she wasn’t the same woman from the beach, not quite, but there was something about her that he felt he knew, had seen before. It comforted him, quieted his nerves a little.

“I don’t have much to offer,” you interrupted his thoughts with a shy chuckle. “But it’s better than sleeping outside.”

“This is wonderful. I can’t thank you enough for doing this for me. It has been a difficult day and you are the first person who’s shown me any kindness. I don’t know how I can repay you for that.”

You giggled and it sounded like chimes.

“You don’t have to repay me. Pay it forward; if you help someone like I’m helping you, that will be enough.”

Hoseok wondered for a second if he had fallen asleep on the beach and was dreaming this. Because this woman, she was everything he had dreamt; she was what he had been hoping for. The flicker of hope in his chest grew into a flame and he shivered as a warmth rushed through him.

“Would you like something to eat?” you offered and Hoseok jumped at the chance.

You gave him bread and cheese and watched him eat them, at first tentatively, and then with great gusto. Of course, he had never tried these things before, never eaten human food. You placed some fruit on the small coffee table he was eating at and he devoured that, too. His eyes widened as he bit into a pear, ripe and juicy, sticky sweet nectar dribbling down his chin. He hummed with delight and you saw the sparkle return to his eyes.

You knew what you were there to do but you were enjoying this moment. This was the Prince Hoseok you knew; this was how he should be: bright and smiling, his crescent-moon eyes alight with laughter. You sat next to him and picked at some food, too, not really tasting it because the sweetness of the moment was far too strong.

Hoseok only stopped eating when you stopped giving him food, when you only had enough left for a small breakfast in the morning and nothing else. He sat back, resting on his palms, and sighed happily.

“That was the most amazing meal I’ve ever had!” he exclaimed and you laughed.

“You are very easily impressed. There are far more exciting things to eat here; I simply cannot afford them all.”

He shook his head.

“Not at all. That was wonderful. Thank you so much.”

With his stomach finally full, his fatigue hit him full in the face and he yawned widely, a quiet wail escaping his throat.

“You must be exhausted. Please, take the bed. I can sleep on the sofa,” you said, gesturing towards the bed that sat against one wall.

Hoseok thought the bed looked huge and the sofa, small. He thought about what the right thing to do would be. He couldn’t sleep in the bed. It wouldn’t be right, would it? But he was so tired and in so much pain. He looked at the bed longingly, imagining himself stretching out over its surface, letting it take his weight. He imagined it feeling like water, like being carried on the waves, weightless. He looked at the sofa.

“Please,” you repeated. “Take the bed.”

Every manner, every point of order, every etiquette lesson was screaming at him to say no, to refuse, to offer to sleep anywhere but the bed. To not inconvenience you, to not put you out, to not cost you even more than he already had, to not trespass any further onto your kindness. But sleep was calling, louder and more insistent. His wrecked, ravaged body was screaming.

He nodded shyly and offered a quiet thanks before rising and slipping, sore and worn, beneath the sheets. He was asleep before he even had the chance to notice the way the bed fabric, too, brushed rough against his exposed skin.

You watched him. He looked peaceful; his face smoothed of any worries or concerns. He made a fine human, you thought. He was tall and lean and, despite the pain you knew he was suffering, he didn’t let it show: he’d walked straight and held himself high. Royal blood, you assumed.

You wondered how much you would have to engineer this to ensure success. Despite all you knew about the prince (and you knew a lot), this was a blind spot. He had hesitated when you told him of his conditions; the idea of a child had alarmed him. Maybe he would decide he didn’t want to stay human after all.

There were two and a half days left. That was plenty of time, you decided. You wouldn’t push; he was too delicate for that, especially after his first day’s misery. You would cushion his fall, pick him up carefully, and slowly show him both what the human world was really like and what it could be like with you. You would delight him and impress him and he would give himself to you. He would. You were sure of it. He would fall into the world that you would show him and he would give himself to you, body and soul.

You fingered the clamshell still tied around your neck. It held the pearl you created when you turned Hoseok into a human. It now also held the pearl you created when you turned yourself into one.

* * *

The thing about royalty, the thing about the privileged, who’ve never really experienced hardship, for whom doors have always been opened, is that they are resiliently optimistic folk. Everything has always gone their way; naturally, they assume it always will. Even now, after everything that happened to him yesterday, Prince Hoseok was beaming. He was enamoured. He was full of awe and wonder. He was experiencing the human world as he thought it would be.

Because of you.

It was taking a lot out of you, truth be told, because you didn’t have the riches you needed to show him a human experience comparable to his underwater life. He wasn’t a royal here; he wasn’t anyone at all. Doors didn’t open for him and they didn’t open for you. But Hoseok had his charm and you had charms of a very different sort. So you were making it work, but your nerves were rising; with every bit you put in, you told yourself you had better pull this off. You had better seal the deal, make good on this bargain you had made with yourself, see through to the end the promise you swore to your dead mother and her dead mother and all the dead mothers back until time began.

It was your biggest show. It was your hardest work. Your magnum opus.

Or it would be. If—if you could do it.

Hoseok couldn’t let on that this was his first time on the surface; he couldn’t tell you he was really a merman, that a seawitch had transfigured him, that his legs were really a tail. It was too risky, too dangerous. But he kept forgetting that that meant he had to try to hide his enthusiasm, his surprise. Everything here was new to him. Everything here was fascinating and wonderful and intriguing and he could barely contain himself.

He had no backstory. He had no lies to tell. And he hadn’t noticed that you hadn’t asked. But it was dawning on him that, if he were to have a life here, he would have to think of something to tell people about where he came from. But he didn’t have the time, right now, to think of it. There was far too much to attend to. Too much to see, too much to do.

It would have been overwhelming were it not for you. If he’d had to continue doing this alone... well, he wouldn’t have. Couldn’t have. If you hadn’t found him on the beach last night, where would he be? Sinking beneath the waves? Starving on the shore? You had lifted him up and now you were carrying him along, tethering him to the earth, providing him a guiding string to hold. He had never been so grateful for anyone in his life.

Not even the sea witch.

“What do you say?” you asked him, shortly before sunset on that second day.

Hoseok tried to think, but it didn’t really matter to him and he was so overstimulated, he couldn’t have made a decision if he’d wanted to. He shrugged.

“I’m happy to go wherever you like!”

“Hungry yet?”

He shook his head. He had sampled one of everything at the market after lunch and had to spend half an hour sitting quietly so that it wouldn’t make a return journey up his throat. He was still very far from hungry.

That was exactly the answer you were hoping for.

You led him away from town, towards the west where the land rose in a grassy slope, steep and getting steeper, until you reached the top of the cliff. You walked up to the edge and turned to see Hoseok hanging back, looking nervous.

“Scared of heights?”

Hoseok didn’t know. He had never really experienced ‘heights’, wasn’t quite sure what that meant. But the wind was stronger up here and he knew, without having to look, that the sea was a very long way down. It couldn’t be dangerous if you were doing it, he reasoned, but he’d heard too many stories of humans falling to their deaths from cliffs like these – sometimes deliberately, but often not.

You held your hand out to him and his stretched back before he’d even noticed and he inched forward until you could take it and tug him a little further and a little further still. His heart was in his mouth as he craned his neck to peer down into the foaming waves as they crashed and broke against the rock face. You didn’t let go of his hand.

“It’s very high,” he stated unsurely, not knowing if it was really.

It felt high. It looked high to him. But, in a way, everything was high. The sea had depth, not height. It wasn’t the same thing. He might have wagered that it would be, before now, but looking down to the sandy seabed from high above it was very different from looking down at the sea from the cliff edge. Something to do with the environment maybe.

Maybe the fact that he couldn’t fall off the sea and plummet to his death. Maybe that. He’d never been in mortal danger; the sea was a safe place for him and he had all the protection he might have wanted (more than he wanted, actually); he hadn’t really appreciated it until yesterday, when he had nothing and no one.

Now, he had you.

It had occurred to him. The condition of his staying a human. The three days he had to plant a seed. It kept occurring to him. It wouldn’t stop occurring to him. Not when you smiled, not when you showed him yet another wonder, not when you took his hand in your own. He wasn’t sure if he could do it. For a start, he wasn’t completely sure how all that worked with human bodies. For another, he didn’t know if you would want to. He didn’t know what human culture dictated.

You were beautiful. About that, he had no doubt. Was he attracted to you? Yes, he had decided he was. Did he trust you? Yes, as much as he could trust someone he’d just met; as much as he could trust a human. Did you feel the same way? That was a mystery he didn’t know how to solve. You had stretched out your hand to him; you had paid for him to be fed; you had let him sleep in your bed; you had taken him into your home. It suggested something, but he didn’t know what.

Just as it had the day before, his ignorance alarmed him. His recklessness in coming still surprised him. The weight of his deadline pressed down on him and he shuddered, involuntarily.

He looked concerned, you thought, distracted. You could tell he didn’t really like being so high above the sea; you wondered if it were a merman thing or a Hoseok thing. Being neither, you couldn’t know. You took pity on him and led him back down the cliffside, keeping his hand in yours as long as he would let you.

You assumed you would have to lead, that he wouldn’t take charge of the situation—judging by what you had seen so far. You mulled it over as you wandered slowly back into town. He had never really had to work for it, you supposed. He was a prince. And beautiful. And charming. And kind. He had everything going for him, which meant he had the entire sea throwing themselves at his feet, desperate to be picked. He probably didn’t know the first thing about seduction, about attraction—not really, anyway. It struck you then that there was every chance he’d be a really bad lay. There was every chance you would be, having never done it as a human before, but that was besides the point. The idea of Hoseok disappointing you left a sour taste in your mouth but you ignored it; that was not what you were there for. Good or bad didn’t matter. There was one objective and one only. Your own pleasure, your own, secret, little goals were neither here nor there. You had to stay focused.

Because it wasn’t going to be easy. You knew that. That was half the reason you hadn’t planned to do it yourself anyway (or so you told yourself...). It was going to be harder for you than some random stranger. You knew that. It was going to be horrible, you knew, looking into his eyes when he learnt the truth, when he saw you—the real you—for the first time on land. You could picture it: the shock and betrayal, the fear and hurt. It gave you pause. Because you hated him, hated who he was and what he stood for and everything about the systems and society of the place you both lived. But you also loved him, loved his smile and his eyes, his heart and his soul. You wanted him to be yours forever. You wanted him to choose you. He never would. Not really. If he knew you were here, if he knew the human holding his hand was really the sea witch who’d sent him up there, he wouldn’t choose you.

The shocked, betrayed face. The frightened, hurt expression. You sighed heavily, without meaning to.

“Are you ok?” Hoseok asked, his head tilting to the side.

You smiled brightly back at him.

“Of course! Just starting to get a bit peckish. Shall we eat something?”

Hoseok wasn’t really hungry. The market food was still solid in his stomach. But if you wanted to eat, he’d eat. He’d do anything you asked. He owed you everything.

More, in fact, than he knew.

* * *

You’d been distracted through dinner, which had been fine because, without the food to focus on (Hoseok barely ate), he could look around at everything else. He could fire questions at you (questions that were far too revealing—not that he noticed) and comment on his surroundings and commentate with barely any input required. That meant you could contemplate your task. You’d had to rush into this whole thing, take the reins with very little notice at all. This was not how you usually operated.

You were meticulous and organised because you had to be. Always on your guard because you had to be. Everything you did came with its own audit trail because you couldn’t afford to make mistakes. You had seen what that had done to your mother at far too young an age. Not that she actually made the mistake. But when you don’t have the proof of every action you’ve taken and word you’ve said, they can make it look like you did whatever they say you did.

You ate slowly, not really tasting, not really savouring. Your mind was busy, calculating. You had a day and a half left. 36 hours, give or take. There would be another night after this one. You didn’t relish the idea of leaving it until the last minute, but you could spoil the whole thing entirely if you pushed too hard, too fast. So you decided to wait.

*

Hoseok was determined, this time, to do the right thing and let you sleep in your own bed. He was embarrassed at the way he had behaved the night before: how greedily he’d eaten, how quickly he had relegated you to the sofa. It made him cringe. And then you had spent the whole day playing hostess to him: showing him around, paying for everything, keeping him company, and answering his questions.

His debt to you was beyond belief. He knew he should leave. He knew he should make his own way. He knew he could not rely on you – not even for the rest of his three days, if that was all he would have. He had to find a way to survive independently. He knew that. He had to pay you back. He had to make things right.

“I’ll sleep on the sofa tonight,” he announced when you returned back to your shabby apartment.

You pretended to be surprised.

“Oh, no,” you replied, “not at all. Take the bed! It’s fine. I don’t mind.”

“No way. It’s your bed. I slept on it last night when I really shouldn’t have. Please. Take it.”

You shook your head, scrunching your nose and grinning stubbornly at him.

“No. You.”

He sighed, but the corners of his lips twitched anyway.

“We may have reached a stalemate,” he announced, with solemn mock-seriousness.

You hummed, thoughtfully, running a finger along the bottom of the bed as you stepped closer to him.

“A compromise, then,” you said, poking a finger into his chest.

“And what is your compromise?”

“Well…”

You weren’t shy. Not when you were being yourself and not when you were pretending to be a human. But you were good at acting like it. You looked down and then up at him through your lashes, a small, reluctant smile traced on your lips.

“We could… share?”

You raised a hand to your face, covering your mouth, looking at Hoseok and then away and then back to him, eyelashes fluttering.

The genuine surprise on his face gave you butterflies. You could see his hesitation, watch his mind weigh his options, calculate the costs and benefits of each. He knew too little to have anything to guide him. Anything but you. And you had suggested it.

So it had to be ok, right?

“Share?” he asked, buying himself another moment to think it over, to consider what all this might mean in relation to the condition he had to meet.

You nodded, lip trapped between your teeth.

“Ok!” he answered brightly, hoping it was the right response, and inwardly breathing a sigh of relief when you beamed back at him.

It would be easy to love you, he thought and the sentiment caught him off-guard. He had to be realistic about human life. He wasn’t a prince here. He had nothing. But when he looked at you, he felt rich. He felt like his dream was within his grasp. You were everything he had ever hoped for. He could stay here forever with you, couldn’t he?

He wasn’t going to do anything tonight. Ask or proposition or… or god knew what else. It was too soon. Too early. There was still time. He told himself, there was still time. Still time for him to wake up from this dream he’d fallen into when he met you. Still time to commit to it forever.

You took the left side and Hoseok the right. You curled onto your side, facing him, with the covers pulled up to your eyes. He lay on his back, moonlight from the open shutter illuminating his face in a sharp line that crossed him and left you in the dark.

You watched him for a while: not sleeping, though he had his eyes closed.

“Hoseok,” you whispered. “Where are you from?”

His eyes opened and went to the window.

“Somewhere… close but also very far away.”

“You mean like, culturally?”

You saw him nod.

“Yeah. Where I come from is… very different. More different than I thought.”

“How come you came here?”

He shook his head, eyes trained on the ceiling.

“I had to,” was his simple answer and you let it hang there in the darkness, waiting for him to add to it. “I think I could have stayed, but I’d have got old and I would have looked back and I’d have regretted it. I’d have regretted staying there my whole life. I’d have regretted not seeing everything this wo- this place has to offer. I needed to experience it.”

“Do you like it here?”

He let the question go unanswered for some time. So long that he wondered, after he’d spoken, if you’d fallen asleep in the interim.

“I like some of it. I like you.”

It made your stomach swoop. Even if he wasn’t talking about you. Just the human you were pretending to be. You wondered how a real human woman would have responded to that.

You changed the subject.

“I thought I was seeing things when I first noticed you on the beach.”

A slow smile formed itself on Hoseok’s lips.

“You were… You saw me.”

You reached out and poked his arm.

“I didn’t want to go home not knowing you were ok. If I’d woken up in the morning to a news story about… well, I couldn’t have lived with myself. I realised, as I approached, that you weren’t really in danger. You looked like you were waiting for something. Someone.”

His smile turned rueful and his eyes flicked again to the window, outside of which you could hear but not see the waves crashing on the shore.

“I was,” he said, his voice a low whisper. Then he turned his face away from the light to look directly at you. “I was waiting for a miracle.”

* * *

You no longer had any concerns about the success of your plan. You had no doubt that Hoseok would go along with anything you wanted to drag him into. You didn’t know if he knew what his feelings were, but you did.

It was your own feelings that concerned you.

You hadn’t spent time with Hoseok like this since you were much younger. He was addictive. His smiles and his laughter and the way his eyes gleamed bright all the while. You could feel your resolve crumble and you knew it was bad when you realised it didn’t bother you.

You began to try to re-think things. Reformulate. Work out a way that maybe there could be a future, after all.

Originally, this was where it stopped. This was where your scheming—and your life—would end. You felt the guilt of having had no children: no one to pass your powers and your knowledge down to; you also felt free because you had subjected no one else to a life like yours. It was a heavy burden to be who you were down in the water. But it wouldn’t have mattered much once you were dead, which you were certain you would be at the end of all this. You can’t just ‘kidnap’ the prince, ‘mutilate’, and ‘trap’ him and live to tell the tale. Many had died for less. And you were fine with that. You were living to avenge every woman in your family, every witch, every creature under the sea who lived shunted into shadows, left out of the light, less than. Had been for years.

And for years, your only source of light, the single little gemstone glittering in your heart, was Prince Hoseok. Prince Hoseok and his angelic face, his musical laughter, his charm, his lightness, his brightness, his everything you weren’t and could never be.

You would get to destroy it all in one fell swoop. A beautiful, perfect demise.

Now you weren’t so sure. Weren’t so sure you could do it. You could do it; you weren’t sure you could go through with it. These feelings that you thought you were so used to, not controlled by, not swayed by anymore, were threatening to overpower you. You felt the tendrils unfurl, in the deepest pit of your heart, sending out shoots and roots, embedding themselves further into the bitter, twisted muscle. You could feel them growing through your veins, buds springing up like goosebumps on your skin. You felt them every time his hand accidentally brushed yours, every time you fed him some new food and barely grazed his lips with your fingers. Every time he laughed. Every time he looked at you. Every time. All the time.

Hoseok allowed himself to relax. You liked his company. You wanted him around. He hadn’t tried that hard to leave you—because he had no one and nothing and nowhere else, but also because he recognised that you wanted him to stay. He had realised that, whilst so much was different up on the surface, he was the same. And people liked him. Always had. Yes, he was a prince and there was always a contingent of the sycophantic and the boot-licking, but he had always been well-liked, even amongst his brothers, amongst the entire royal court. He was popular. He was fun. He was funny.

And he was enjoying himself.

He had twenty-four hours. That was enough. He’d make a decision. He was confident in that. He would make a decision soon and he would live with it, whatever it ended up being. He wasn’t pushing himself to find the answer just yet.

He was enjoying himself.

You took him dancing. It felt risky, given what you knew about how much pain he must still be in, how uncoordinated he might be on his two feet, but it was an opportunity to get closer, to show him something new, to show him something you could do. Because you loved to dance. Really only came to the surface to do this one thing.

Certain sea creatures danced, but not like humans did. It wasn’t the same without the sound of feet on floorboards, wasn’t the same without the weight of gravity trying to keep you down every time you pushed up. You weren’t exactly a fan of humans (certainly not in the way Hoseok was), but they had got this right.

Your worries had been unfounded. Hoseok’s legs were feeling better already, he thought, or he was just getting used to the pain. Either way, he wasn’t suffering like he had on the first day. He was a terrible dancer, make no mistake. He couldn’t understand the way people moved their legs, the way their feet moved so quickly they were almost blurs. He tripped and stumbled and crashed about but none of that seemed to matter to you, so it didn’t matter to him either. You held him close and pulled him up and around and twisted and turned and skipped and span until his head was dizzy.

He had never experienced a joy like it.

*

You took him on a short carriage ride, because there was somewhere else you wanted him to see. It wasn’t that far, really, but you didn’t want him to have to walk and a carriage was as new an experience to him as everything else was.

You made it drop you just far enough away that it wouldn’t spoil the surprise. You gave Hoseok nothing, answering none of his questions, not saying a word, because you were holding your breath to wait for his reaction.

And there it was.

You saw his eyebrows, first raised and then knitted together, and then softening. His eyes widening. His mouth dropping open slightly, in the way that made it perfectly heart-shaped. Then he turned his eyes on you. Was this it? Was this the thing you wanted him to see?

It was.

Like a sea of green grass with hundreds – no, thousands – of red flowers floating on the waves. Hoseok didn’t know what to say. He hadn’t seen anything like this before. It was as if he were in another new world. The red-headed poppies were so numerous, you almost couldn’t see the grass underneath; there was merely a suggestion of verdant growth propping up the riot of colour. What were these things and how did they grow in such great number?

He had been taught, growing up, that humans had no respect for nature. That they ripped up land plants and built over grasslands; they destroyed forests and valleys and wetlands all for their own ends. They would rather look at glass and concrete and chrome than the kaleidoscopic views the natural world had to offer. He had believed them, because he had heard the true stories of what human activity had done to sea life; he had received the messages of the reefs dying and oil spilling and nets catching up all sorts of things they shouldn’t. He thought, trying to give them the benefit of the doubt, as he was always wont to do, that maybe the nature on land wasn’t like the nature in the sea. Maybe things were different up here. Lots of other things were.

Now he saw that he had been entirely wrong. Acres of land lay before him. Acres of useful land that could have grown crops or laid foundations to buildings were ablaze with the bright, bright red of flowers he’d never seen before. And the humans let it happen.

As his surprise gave way to pure, wide-eyed admiration, he noticed that the humans were experiencing it the same way he was. He saw them with their cameras, taking their images (as you had explained to him that’s what they did), keeping the sight forever more. He saw them smile and laugh and frolic. He saw them and saw himself in them. He saw, also, the goodness he had always known was there. The spirit and love and joy of humanity. It was here, in these fields. It was here, in his heart. It was here, standing next to him; you, watching him expectantly, a nervous smile trying to tug your bottom lip from between your teeth.

“Wow,” was all he managed to say.

* * *

It was his last night. What might have been his last night. What could be his last night. Hoseok felt tense. Nervous. Almost sick.

He had decided. He was going to stay. If he could. If he could make it happen. If you wanted it.

He knew he had a home to go back to, if you didn’t. He would always have these three days. No one could take them away from him. And if that’s all he got, if three days on the surface was all he ever got to experience, then so be it. He was putting himself in your hands: himself, his heart, his dreams. His body.

The problem was that he didn’t know how to tell you that. He didn’t know how any of this happened on land. He didn’t know what he could or could not say, or do, or suggest. Which is why he had to leave it up to you. He’d just get it wrong.

It was Hoseok’s last night and you were wondering if you were just imagining the way he was looking at you, wanting him to be looking like that. You could bend reality, but that didn’t mean you always saw it clearly. The heart had tricks of its own.

But you had the advantage over him, because you knew his secrets. You knew that this would be his last chance; you knew that you were his only option. You knew that he wanted to stay. You couldn’t be sure if he wanted to stay enough to sleep with you.

You had suggested wine at dinner because you knew it was what the humans drank and knew it made them silly and loud and boisterous; you knew it lowered their inhibitions and made them do things they often regretted. You didn’t really know how you would react to it—your body was technically human now but you’d never been drunk before—but it had left you feeling warm and a little giddy. It had, blessedly and as you had hoped, made this whole thing easier to think about.

Because your head was spinning a little too fast to think about the bigger picture: the whys and wherefores of how you got here, how he got here, the purpose of this whole thing. You could really only think about the splendid slope of his nose. The way his shallow philtrum led to the smooth, rounded peaks of his cupid’s bow. The tiny, dark freckle there that waited, begging to be kissed. The perfect symmetry of his dimples as he smiled.

You hadn’t indulged in this since you were small. Hoseok had been your first crush. First, last. Only. As a pre-teen, you’d been silly with infatuation over him. Memorised the maps of his freckles and exact proportions of his body. You’d floated around in the sea, daydreaming about him for hours on end, not realising how far you had strayed until your mother had come screaming after you, pulling you back and warning you about being so unaware of your surroundings.

You remembered those feelings now. The fizziness in your limbs and heavy twisting in your gut. Like old friends. Hoseok, too, was an old friend. Your oldest. Your only. Now and, if you got this right, forevermore.

Hoseok had accepted the first glass of wine but recoiled at its taste, unable to believe he’d found something on the surface he didn’t like. You had then explained to him that it was technically a poison and he had been aghast to see you continue to drink it, to look around and see so many other humans doing the same. Every minute brought him something new.

You took his hand as you walked back from dinner to your apartment. It was warm and soft and you were grateful for it. Hoseok was grateful for it, too. His clothes still rubbed at his skin and so much of him still hurt, but your hand in his did not.

You didn’t let go when you reached the door, didn’t let go when it shut behind you and you let the lock click. You tugged him a little closer to you, took his other hand, kept his eyes on yours as you moved closer still.

You hadn’t done this before.

Hoseok hadn’t done this before.

You’d seen it done. You understood the concept.

Hoseok had no idea what was coming, but he had decided what he wanted. He had decided to trust you. And he’d decided to trust his gut, too. If humans were anything like merpeople (and they were), at least some of what was to happen would be instinctive.

He hoped, anyway.

You didn’t say a word, though you had planned to. You had scripted a kind of shy proposition, an awkward hobble of a speech in which you would say and ask and tell. But you abandoned it. Or rather, it abandoned you. Not a single word of it left in your head. So you stopped using it: your head. Stopped thinking.

You pressed your lips to his like you’d seen humans do.

The candle in Hoseok’s heart roared, its flame reaching up his throat and into his mouth. He didn’t have time to think. His body acted for him. For the first time since he crawled onto the shore, his body was feeling something that wasn’t pain. Was feeling something familiar. Something hot and deep and aching.

He didn’t mind the taste of the wine on your tongue, thought it was sweet, actually, had lost the acidic tang of the alcohol that made it poisonous. This kiss was like every kiss that had come before it, but also, nothing like them. Absent, the tang of salt. Present, the wet heat of your mouth and his. Absent, the way he could breathe through his gills. Present, the breathlessness that made him pull away before you pulled him back. Absent, the modest nudity in which the entire undersea world lived. Present, a kind of shy, self-conscious awareness of his hidden body.

An enormous, embarrassed awareness of the bulge in his trousers, the way it couldn’t be hidden. He had been horrified to see it, when he had washed up on the beach, two-legged and naked. He couldn’t believe that humans just walked around with everything on display like that (he had known this already, would have remembered if he’d been in his right mind); he’d felt awkward and conscious the entire time, sure that everyone could see, that it was obscene, that humans couldn’t really live like this?

But never more than now, as it strained against his trousers, which hadn’t been tight thirty seconds ago and were now constraining him in a way that bordered on painful. He kept his body away from you, more difficult now that your hands were skittering up his arms and down his chest, slipping back up his skin underneath his shirt, trying to pull him closer.

You felt a little bit dizzy. Sure, the wine, but also, this. Hoseok. The sweetness of fruit in his mouth. The heat of his skin. The sensation of a kiss—something you’d never experienced before, that you had seen, that had disgusted you—was nothing like you’d imagined. If you had thought about it, if you’d been thinking rationally, you might still have been disgusted by the way your tongues rolled over each other, swapping saliva, the way you could taste him, taste the fruit he’d just eaten. But you weren’t thinking rationally. You weren’t thinking at all.

You were feeling. And it was like nothing you’d ever felt before.

You gave into it.

Hoseok gave into it.

It was, as the humans say, like riding a bike. Though you hadn’t done that either.

Hoseok stopped thinking about it when you removed his shirt and stepped out of your dress. Legs were new to him. That was true. The human arrangement of body parts was new to him but they weren’t all that different once everything was out in the open. You had lit a fire in him and he was happy to stoke the flames. He was burning again, all over, inside and out, but it wasn’t painful, wasn’t torture. It was exquisite. New and familiar at once. Intoxicating.

You fell to your knees and Hoseok thought you had stumbled, bent down to help you up, but you stopped him, shook your head, and he stood straight.

Then you took his thick, heavy cock into your hand and licked the top. You wrapped your lips around it and pushed yourself forward, gliding your tongue along the underside, hollowing your cheeks and sucking. Hoseok gasped and almost fell to his knees himself. He didn’t know what this was, assumed it was a normal part of human sex, briefly wondered if sex actually was different here, if this was the entire act. Then he felt the head of his cock press against the back of your throat and his mind was wiped clean of thought. Replaced by a kind of urgent static that made him want to buck his hips, fuck into the hot clutch of your throat.

You had seen humans do this. You weren’t sure if you were doing it right. Not at first, anyway, but Hoseok had a pained look on his face, his mouth hanging open, his chest heaving as he panted, and you knew that was the reaction you were supposed to be eliciting. You could feel the twitch of his dick as it hit your throat, as you gagged lightly around it. You could just about hear, over the roaring of blood in your ears, Hoseok moaning, your name tumbling from his mouth like a prayer.

You were aching between your legs. You were hot and sticky and you could feel it dripping from you. You felt your walls clench and had the sudden, immediate need for Hoseok’s cock there, not in your mouth. You let it fall, wiped your eyes and your mouth and Hoseok was pulling you to your feet, crashing his mouth into yours, his hands frantic and grabbing.

Neither of you was thinking a second beyond what was happening. Gone were your concerns with your long-planned acts of vengeance. Gone were Hoseok’s worries about committing to life on the surface, about leaving his marine life behind, bringing a child into the world. Gone was the pressure of your subterfuge. Gone was the pressure of all his lies of omission. Gone was everything outside the four walls of this apartment. Gone was the whole world beyond your body in his hands, his body in yours.

Hoseok found that legs made all this much easier. They probably wouldn’t under water, but here, he saw their benefit. Saw the upsides to having two of them, of having them jointed at two places and not twenty. As he knelt over you on the dingy grey sheets of your bed, he almost laughed at the image of him trying to do this with a tail. Maybe there were some upsides to this human body after all.

He placed the tip of his cock at your entrance and pushed his hips forward, a little experimentally, testing the motion, the movement of his hips. He fell forward onto his hands, eyes closed, a long, gasping moan trapped in his throat.

He hadn’t known that humans had it so much better.

Would’ve done this days ago if he had.

You were hot and tight and wet and it was all Hoseok could do not to come right there and then. He paused, trying to catch a breath, gather himself, not lose it all as soon as he had begun.

It was excruciating for a second and the whine you’d let out wasn’t pleasured but pained. You were grateful when Hoseok stopped, though you didn’t think it was for you. Is this what it was like? You had thought they liked it. That was the point, wasn’t it? Humans mated for fun, not just for procreation. You had to assume fun would follow. It had been fun up to that point. It had been its own exquisite kind of pleasurable torture waiting for something to stuff you full.

But now he was and it was like being split down the middle. You wondered for a second if this was how it had felt for Hoseok when he grew legs. Then he started pushing his hips forward again and it tossed all thought out the window.

“Are you ok?” he asked, looking down at you with a frown of genuine concern.

You nodded. You nodded some more. You couldn’t speak because the pressure in your centre was overwhelming, the pain like nothing you had felt before. But you couldn’t stop. You wanted it. You wanted him. You had never been pushed out of your mind like this, brought into your body so viscerally, so violently, with such care. Hoseok brushed a strand of hair away from your face and tucked it behind your ear.

“Do you want to stop?” he asked.

“No.”

You pulled him down to you, down to his forearms, so you could kiss him, so his chest touched yours, so you could distract yourself from Hoseok with even more Hoseok. With your tongue in his mouth, you allowed yourself to cry out as he pushed further. He swallowed the sound and returned his own. You were trembling, your muscles shaking, your skin sticky with sweat.

So was Hoseok.

The pain wasn’t registering anymore, even though he knew it was still there. All he could feel was your cunt squeezing hard around him; it made him dizzy with pleasure. His stomach was churning, twisting; he was bracing trying to make this last.

Because he’d forgotten the point of it. Forgotten that the ending was the bit that counted. He wanted to feel you, he wanted to touch you and taste you and luxuriate in the human experience of this. He hadn’t imagined it but, if he had, even his wildest dreams wouldn’t have come close. Mermaids? He’d never go back.

He paused, to give you a moment, to give himself a moment, a breather. He kissed you, luxuriating in that, too: the way you tasted like no one else he’d ever kissed, the way your mouth was warm and wet, your tongue soft and supple. He liked the way his breath caught in his throat. He liked the way he found himself panting. He even liked the way his shoulders were starting to ache from holding his body up. Liked the way he could feel every muscle of his posterior chain move when he slowly, tentatively began to draw his hips back, when he tipped them forward again, when he set a slow, smooth motion that he found came easily to him.

Having a human body was exhausting. It was hard work. It was heavy all the time and never supported. It had been torture in the truest sense, with every step Hoseok took stabbing daggers into his legs. But he could see the benefits now. Well, he could feel them. He felt more embodied than he ever had before. Somehow separate from the world in a way that made him feel so much more connected to you. You weren’t two small parts of a larger whole. You were the whole.

He had spent time pondering the ways in which air was so different from water. He often thought water came off the better from the comparison. But this was changing everything. It was exhausting and painful and he was so aware of each and every part of his body. And with that, came a gut-churning pleasure that made his eyes water and his head spin. Water had nothing on air.

You weren’t sure it was pleasurable yet. The sharp pain had subsided and the little grunts and groans that Hoseok left in your mouth were sweet enough, but it wasn’t pleasure. Not yet. You were sure it would come. Didn’t mind entirely if it didn’t tonight. There would be other nights.

You hoped, you prayed, there would be other nights. Because it might have been pain, but it was the sweetest pain you’d ever felt. A pain that you somehow longed for, even as you longed for it to end. A pain that made you feel wanted. A pain that connected you to another living being in a way that you never had been. A pain that, in a moment of intense clarity, you realised connected you to women, human women. All human women who had experienced this since time began. You understood a little about their myths about the origin of man, and sin, and punishment.

You understood it. How this could be punishment. How it could be pleasure, too. How it could be worth it.

Hoseok could feel it coming. He was desperately trying to beat it back, to delay its onset, to make this last and last and last. He never wanted it to end, but he could feel his muscles tightening, feel his cock jumping with every thrust. Pleasure was coiling like a spring inside him, boiling rapidly, boiling over.

You gasped alongside him when he came, when his hips and breath stuttered and he filled you with ropes of hot cum. His body was heavy on top of yours, in a pleasing, crushing kind of way that grounded you. At that very moment, neither one of you was thinking about the consequences of what you had just done. What it could mean. What it meant for your best laid plans. You were lying, listening to the soft rushing of your breath and the hammering of your hearts.

*

It came to you, first, and you didn’t want to think about it. Because you were so full of feeling for Hoseok; feelings that you thought had faded, that had embedded themselves in you in a way that made them fade into the background, made you almost forget they were there, were screaming at you now. In technicolour. Surround sound. Unignorable. Undeniable.

But had you just destroyed him? Destroyed his life? His family?

That had been the intention. Bring down the royal family by having one of their own shun the sea for life on the surface, mate with a human. They’d have known it was you—it couldn’t have been anyone else—and they’d have executed you without trial. But it would’ve been worth it because, forever more, there would be a line of the royal family that ran human, that ran amok on the surface, that no one below the waves would ever be able to forget. It would have been their undoing without doubt. Whatever betrothals lay in wait for the princes would be broken; whatever treaties that were depending on them dashed; the reputation of the family would be in tatters. It would be over for them.

Which was what you had wanted.

But as you lay, absent-mindedly stroking Hoseok’s hair, naked and sweaty and sticky, with a penetrating ache still radiating through your core, you thought about how much that would hurt him. You saw the betrayal on his beatific face and your stomach flipped with fear. Because it wasn’t meant to be you lying here. And that made a difference.

Because you had seen him. You had kissed him. You had had him move inside you. You had loved him your whole life long and now you had to tell him that you had ulterior motives. That you were working against him. That all of this had been the result of your careful manipulations.

There had to be another way. There had been another way. That was how you had designed it. You weren’t supposed to be in this front-row seat. That was the point.

But it was too late now. And you needed a way out.

Maybe he never had to know.

Maybe you could make this work.

*

Hoseok’s eyes were fluttering shut. He could barely keep them open. He didn’t know if he had just secured his existence here or not. He didn’t know how to guarantee a child. Wasn’t clear-headed enough at that moment to know, for sure, if he wanted one.

He wanted to stay. Oh, he wanted to stay. He couldn’t go back now. But a child?

He felt wicked. He thought about what you might say if you ever learnt the truth. The betrayal. The way he used you for this.

He felt like a coward. He was a pampered prince who had achieved nothing on his own. He had turned to a sea witch in the midst of what amounted to a king-sized tantrum. She had risked her entire existence bringing him here. He had barely survived on his own. You had rescued him. Given him food and shelter and company and the greatest pleasure he had ever known.

He knew he couldn’t tell you the truth. Not if he wanted any part of this to continue.

Because he did. He wasn’t just using you. He wasn’t sure he was using you at all. He liked you. He wanted you. He wanted to stay, not just on the surface, but on the surface with you.

It felt too big. Too confusing. Too difficult. He was a coward, after all, so he closed his eyes and decided to see what the morning would bring.

You noticed his breathing slow, grow heavy and deep, his body relaxing further, his weight pressing down on you harder. He was asleep. That gave you time, you thought. To think of something. Some way out of this. Some way to stay in this.

But your own eyelids felt heavy, kept dropping of their own accord, and you kept losing your train of thought. You gave into it; you would wake early, go out and buy something for breakfast, figure it out in the morning.

#bts fanfic #hoseok fanfic #hoseok x reader #bts x reader #hoseok smut

[beastofburdenxo]

Just A Little Kiss

Reader is a bigger girl and self-conscious about a certain part of her body. Emmett, her new boyfriend, puts her fears at ease.

MINORS DNI one shot, 900 words. Tags: Language, pussy worship, oral sex F receiving, pubic hair. (Emmett is a fiend, and part of me is ashamed to have written this. But anyways...) @your-nanas-house @mrkdvidal1989

Emmett crawls up the bed towards you after you are all warm and dry from your shower. With your book to occupy you, you don’t expect to feel his hot mouth on your thighs. “What are you doing, Emmett?” you ask as he continues to pepper your legs with kisses. “Just giving my girl kisses is all.” he replies. You put the book down next to you, “Well come closer and I’ll give you kisses.” With your arms out to receive him, he shakes his head. “I’m not talking to you sweetheart, wrong girl.” As he moves closer and closer to your panties. It takes you a minute to get what he’s saying, and then it hits you as you quickly close your legs up tight. “No Emmett!” He chuckles at your sudden realization at what he wants. “But baby, she is just demanding me to kiss her, I can’t say no!” You pull your legs up closer to you. “I don’t care what she wants, I’m saying no!” You and Emmett have just started seeing each other and you are very uncomfortable with your body, at least a certain part of it anyways. Emmett moves up closer to you, whispering in your ear, “I think we should listen to her, eh? Just a peek? A small kiss to say hello?”  

You playfully shove him away, wanting to hide under the covers. “She’s lying Emmett, leave her alone.” He makes a sound of displeasure, “What’s wrong Babygirl? I just want to explore your beautiful body and make you feel good. Why can’t I do that, hmm?” He rubs your knee with his thumb, genuinely concerned at your behavior. Emmett adores you and he just wants to show you how much. “I-I-I just don’t want you going down there, okay? It’s all ugly down there, just leave it alone!” Tears are trying to invade your eyes. Emmett gently holds your face with his hand, blue eyes soft with concern at how you feel about yourself. “You are not ugly, you hear me? You are not ugly, you are not too big, you are perfect to me. Did someone tell you that baby? That your pussy was ugly?” You bury your face in his shoulder, not wanting eye contact. “He did, he said that it was too big and gross looking.” He is her mean ex-boyfriend who refused to go down there after seeing it for the first time. It wasn’t what he wanted, so she thinks all men think that way. “Well, he is an asshole, and he is very much wrong, sweetheart. Every inch of you is thick and wonderful, and I'm going to show you.”  

Before you can digest what Emmett is telling you, He has ripped your panties off. You squeal in alarm at being exposed. “It’s okay, I've got you.” You start to flail around in fear, but Emmett quickly pulls your legs apart and stills you with a slap to your ass cheek. “Now you kick me, you’ll be in big trouble little girl!” he growls, his voice turned deep and gravelly. He softly rubs your sides and hips, keeping eye contact even though you're open to him now. “There she is, easy now, baby. Easy.” You decide to keep still, not wanting to be in “trouble” whatever that means. He takes his eyes downwards, finally viewing you fully for the first time. His strong hand follows, gently petting the thick hair you have down there. Time has stopped, the only thing you can hear is your heartbeat and Emmett’s panting. “Fuck.” He whispers to himself, spreading your lips apart with his fingers. “Just perfect. Better than I ever could have pictured.” Emmett finally makes eye contact with you, pupils blown like he’s high on drugs. He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, and you ask, “Are-Are you drooling, Emmett?” He smiles, “Fuck yeah, I am, it’s delectable down here. How could I not? Everything is so kissable and suck able, perfect size for my mouth.” 

You turn bashful at his words about your most intimate parts. “So, it’s not too big?” Emmett groans as he continues to run his fingers through your soft bush. “Fuck no, and this here,” He gently pulls on the hairs, making you gasp, “Is just the icing on the cake, baby. I love it natural.” Emmett is now face to face with your pussy, nuzzling your thighs with his beard. “Shit you smell so good baby,” he mumbles against your plump thigh, “I could have a terrible day and all you’d have to do is show her to me, and it would make it all better. Fuck, I gotta taste you. Just a small kiss. Oh. please.” He moves forward, giving your big clit a gentle kiss, and then another, and another. Both of you moaning as he pulls a lip into his mouth to suck on like candy. “Emmett.” you whimper, previous fears gone out of the window. He stays down there for what feels like eternity, making you come repeatedly into his mouth, making you bite your pillow. Finally, he comes up for air, the blue in his eyes completely gone. His hair is a mess from your fingers, both beard and shirt damp from your juices and sweat. All he can do is smile at you, as he goes down for seconds.

#emmett quiet place #emmett a quiet place #emmett smut #emmett x reader #emmett x fem reader

[cocomintcat]

Heaven's Princess (Prologue)

Hazbin hotel x seraph!reader Platonic series

Part 1 || Masterlist

Songs of the chapter: Slipping through my fingers (Abba)

The fall, God lost one of his beloved children, his son, the morning star, Lucifer. He, alongside his other 7 children, mourned the loss. The siblings all cherished Lucifer dearly. He was one of the youngest. Years on earth were chaotic, God was angry and felt lost. Then, after he felt his duty to earth was done, he secluded himself only to ever talk to his children and seraphiel, his friend. 

After 50 years or so of Emily's birth, Seraphiel had an idea. God loved his children dearly. They always brought light to him. Unfortunately, now it is just being the 7 plus him taking lucifer's job. Their work kept them quite busy, leaving God on his own. Seraphiel debated if this idea would work or be worth it, but there was no harm in trying after all. 

He brought the idea to God. God showed no opposition, so the plan was set in motion. Seraphiel created a new baby seraph. Small she was. Pale skin with a purple blush, a cute heart nose, purple hair, and the most notable, lively purple eyes briming with life.

 Once God held her in his arms, he felt a familiar surge of love and warmth. Seraphial was glad his idea worked. He watch as God coo'd at the small girl. She giggled back at him flailing her tiny little arms.

That day she was named God's little princess, Eliora Sarai Starlight.

7 beings walked through the spacious and bright home. Upon entering the lounge room, they greeted their father.

“So what exactly did you call us all here for??” Azrael was the first to speak up.

“Well I wanted to introduce you to your little sister of course!!”

“Sister?!” Almost all of his children shouted out of pure shock, not expecting to ever add another to the family since the fall.

“YES! Well, I guess I should explain myself a bit…” God explained best he could of seraphiel's idea. He had given it a try, and it was more than worth it. Some of the siblings were a bit apprehensive about the idea. Some still missed their brother, who had fallen. They just hoped their sister wouldn't become just a replacement for him.

Seeing their mixed feelings, God took them to a very beautiful room. A soft yet elegant crib was in the center. The 7 siblings crowded around immediately to see the small princess. She awoke, sensing multiple new presences. Her big eyes gazed at each of the new faces before reaching out her arms to them. Leroy, the dominion angel, put a gloved hand out towards the little one who immediately grasped it before nuzzling it. Leroy smiled down at the little one, putting his hand on her cheek, gently stroking it.

“She's quite sweet isnt she?”

“Haha! She is.” God's smiled softly watching all the siblings interact. Cassius, the shortest of the siblings, immediately scooped up the small girl. Spinning with her in their arms the little girl squealed with excitement.

“She is absolutely adorable!! What did you name her?!”

“Eliora Sarai Starlight. She's heaven's little princess, so I thought the name would be fitting.”

“Thats so cute! Little Elly!” Cassius spoiled the little girl with kisses all over her face, which made her giggle and squirm.

“Ok let the rest of us have some time with our baby sister!” Azrael snatched her straight from Cassius, giving her a hug and nuzzling her with his face.

“What a little cutie! You got really lucky with this tiny angel!” The sibling each passed her around, giving the girl plenty of affection. Micheal was the last to hold his baby sister. Gently, he rocked her. She was tired out from each of his other siblings and their excessive affections. She snuggled in his arms, and he smiled softly at her tiny, sleepy form.

“She's so precious!” Cassius continued to coo over the adorable baby alongside Azrael and Leroy. The other watched fondly seeing the joy she resparked amongst the family. God felt a sweet familiarity at the scene. He was glad he could bring his family back together.

“Emy!!” A small seraph exclaimed, running into the arms of her friend. Eliora had grown significantly in the past 40 years. Though she was still small in stature, the princess had now aged to that of a 4 year old human child.

“Its good to see you too, lia!” The other seraph squeaked happily, squeezing her friend. Emily was 90 and a good foot taller than the tiny princess. Both had become good friends being close in age. After the princess was old enough to walk and talk, Seraphiel started bringing his youngest with him to visit God. The two girls got along extremely well, pleasing their fathers.

Eliora had also met some of Emily’s other sisters. They were all nice, Sera however was always very strict and bit too much for the princess. She lived with God, the Creator, and even he wasn't so strict with everything. Still, a good bond had formed between the young princess and the youngest seraphim daughter.

For a child, Eliora was very well behaved. She rarely got into any trouble, and most of the time, it was because she followed others when they got into trouble. She'd usually sit and watch others from her father's lap or side. If she was with her siblings, she'd maybe ask a question or two about what she had observed, but other than that, she was easily entertained by watching others. She was quite curious about things, but she wasn't so curious as to figure it out for herself.

“Daddy, whats the bible?”

“Why do you want to know little one?”

“I overheard some angels talking about it.”

“Its a book on Heaven and early Earth written by humans, you know the ones that some call winners. The angels that once lived on earth.”

“Oh? Can you tell me more about it?” Eliora now was 60. She knew a bit about heaven, earth, and winners but not a lot. Her family discussed what age each topic would be appropriate to explain to her. The fall she could learn once she reached 100 along with hell, but for now, just some of heaven and earth was allowed.

God proceeded to tell Eliora a bit about eden before Eve ate the fruit. He also left out Lilith. Mostly, he told her about all the animals, and here he learned her absolute adoration for all animals. He couldn't say he was all that surprised with her sweet, loving nature.

Eliora's 80th birthday was soon. She was currently out with Micheal to go on a cute lunch date. He loved treating her to these special outings. The place was a nice little restaurant owned by a sweet elderly winner who was fairly new. The restaurant dabbled in multiple styles of southern cuisines, as Micheal had told Eliora. The restaurant staff were all southern winners who agreed to join the sweet lady's team to bring a bit of old comfort to their new home. It was a popular lunch place among many new winners. Eliora and Micheal, being heaven born, asked the server for recommendations. They ended up with (your choice ;)) and some beignets for dessert.

“Wow didn't expect Mr. Head Angel Micheal to be out here having lunch with some kid. Fuck, your baby mama leave you huh? That must suck haha!” A man with a strange mask said. Eliora's nose scrunched at the way he talked to her brother.

“Adam i suggest you watch your language. As for the kid shes my little sister Eliora.”

Eliora politely waves at the man before going back to eating.

“Sister? I thought your familial editions ended after the fall?”

“She was given to us about 80 years ago.”

“damn so she really is a little squirt.”

Micheal was annoyed and managed to get Adam to say his goodbyes and leave.

“Elly two things. First don't listen or repeat any new words you hear from Adam. Second I'm sorry we got interrupted.”

Luckily, the rest of the lunch was peaceful and delightful. Eliora said she'd like to go to the restaurant again, Micheal decided to let his siblings know about it if they were to take her out to eat.

Soon Eliora’s 80th birthday passed. She had met Adam a few more times, mostly when she was out with Sera and Emily. Eventually, Adam was asked, Sera had an emergency to attend to, to watch both Emily and Eliora. He wasn't too happy but agreed. He decided to teach them electric guitar while they waited for Sera to return.

“So you hold it like this - yup, good job, squirt.” Adam started with teaching Emily. She struggled but had fun learning. Next, it was Eliora's turn. She had been watching in amazement. She left Adam speechless with how fast she picked up how to play. He decided to teach her a few more rock instruments, which she grasped the basics almost immediately.

‘yo Micheal wtf is your sister on. Sera is using me as an emergency babysitter and so I taught the 2 tinys some instrumental lessons and ur sister knows the basics to like 3 intruments’

‘what?’

‘yeah, bass, electric guitar and drums’

‘...’

Soon enough, Sera was back. Micheal had let his family know what Adam sent him and his theory. They decided to test it, and it was correct. Eliora’s heavenly gift was music related. She also told them how it also incorporated dance after they explained what heavenly gifts were. A celebration was held for the little princess. Adam was invited to which he gifted her some rock instruments, while her siblings gifted all sorts of traditional and modern instruments. Gabriel, however, gifted her dance shoes of all types. Emily was extremely excited and insisted the princess put on a performance for her birthday as a gift.

Over the next 60 years, Eliora practiced her heavenly gifts. She also became close to Adam, and he luckily learned to tone down his rude behavior around her. Anytime he took her around heaven, he'd put her on his shoulders or drape a wing over her like a brother resting an arm on their shorter siblings head.

Eliora had 40 years since learning about the Fall and Hell. She asked each sibling about their experience and about Lucifer. She tried to ask Adam but soon learned that it was a sore subject for him.

Eliora's relationship with God changed with the years, too. They're close, and hes a good father, but the realization of her growing up is starting to make him feel down. She tries her best to assure him that no matter how old she gets, she'll always be his little girl and stay in heaven by his side. Luckily, as long as she was around, his depression seemed to not be too bad. However, with age comes responsibility. She doesn't do any intense work or even a heavenly job, but rather, she observes others work in heaven. From each of her brothers to the seraphim. She didn't really know what she wanted to do, nor was there really a job that she was needed for aside from assisting to lighten others' workloads. Eliora also spent a good amount of time performing for others in heaven, dancing and singing to lift others' spirits or soothe new spirits. That's actually how Eliora made new friends. One went by the name Biatreh, but Eliora called her Bee.

More notes on god and 7 heavenly virtues, mostly based on the art by or for who i assume is @apieceofheaven 

I believe cassius is by mika_ji_ on X, they commissioned artists for their design so I can assume as they're the only person I found art of that exact cassius design!! (I love all the designs I hope yall like the ones I chose as reference since we don't know any of their cannon designs)

Also context seraphiel is head of seraphim family in this version, so sera and Emily are sisters (there so many versions of heaven and the names so I'm going with what ones suit this story best and I kinda like the idea of this)

Also name meaning "God is my light" "princess" and obviously starlight is English so you can assume why I chose that <3

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel x reader platonic #mintysseraphreader #platonic hazbin hotel #Spotify

[yorshie]

Warm Coded

Bayverse TMNT Raphael x reader, Michelangelo x reader

SFW, Michelangelo and Raphael hanging out with Fem Reader on gaming night. Slice of Life? Relationships are silent understood and not elaborated on

Tags: @tmnt-tychou

When Michelangelo and Raphael invited you over for snacks and a gaming marathon, you knew eventually it would devolve into watching old wrestling montages and random talk. Which was fine, considering you never had a handle on games that weren’t indulgent reasons to admire digital environments. You were just fine sitting back and letting them race each other for supposed supremacy, egging each on in turn between bites of lukewarm pizza and the jumbo marshmallows Mikey had procured specifically for you.

Now, however, they were unwinding. Raphael had won the last game, and thus had decided on which match they were going to rewatch. Mikey was still bouncing, a slice of pizza in his hand as he shifted back and forth and shadow boxed along with the figures on the screen. The bigger brother was content to lean against the couch, arm resting on the edge lazily against the line of your body. 

He groaned when his guy got thrown out of the ring, and Mikey gave a loud whoop, miming the crowd going wild as he spun in a circle and waved his hands back and forth before striking a pose.

You popped another marshmallow in your mouth and tapped your toes against a scute on the upper portion of Raph’s back. When he huffed, turned his head just far enough to give you a look, you dusted your hands, gestured to the tv.

“Could you teach me how to do that?” Your question had him turning to face you fully, legs shifting and arm moving to lay over your waist. 

“You wanna know how to throw someone?” He kept giving you looks in between looking back at the tv, inviting you to clarify.

You scooted a little closer to get more comfortable, the weight of his arm a little to much for your full stomach, until his elbow wasn’t digging into your far hip. “Well, I mean…” You trailed off, cycling your hands in front of your chest until he looked once more and raised a brow ridge. 

“Might be useful, you know, to know how to get someone off me.” You finished with a shrug, and he gave a low hum of understanding.

“Ah, I gotcha’ princess, but-” he gestured at the wrestlers- “these guys are all used to throwing around that much weight. You go and try and pull somethin’ like that, you’ll break something.” He emphasized this by gently pinching your side, pulling a squeak out of you as you curled up to avoid it.

“We could teach her how to break holds, though.” Mikey broke in, coming to sway next to the couch.

“Yea? Here, princess, break this hold.” You sputtered, not expecting to be dragged in the middle of a brotherly squabble, but Raph leaned his weight into the elbow behind your hip, letting his forearm flop over your ribcage. Half a second was all it took and you were squashed between the cup of his hand and the swell of his bicep.

“Gee, thanks, Mike.” You groaned, tried to squirm unsuccessfully out of the half assed pin.

“C’mon, bro, she wants to learn.” Mikey tapped Raph’s shoulder, dancing back out of reach, and you slapped Raph’s arm for mercy, feeling your dinner start to protest.

Raph tucked his other fist under his chin, both of them all but ignoring your continued struggles. “You don’t start with this stuff, Mikey. You gotta build up strength first, or else-” he rolled the arm still over you in example, and you whined when he pressed a little too hard, retaliating with a push to his shoulder that did absolutely nothing.

“Dude, we are like, ten times stronger than anyone she’s gonna be up against. Just-”

You hooked a foot under the the edge of Raph’s shell, tensed your thigh, the couch starting to protest the more you put your quads into the action. He huffed at that, free hand twisting to unhook your toes with a tickle that had you squealing in protest before you started just flailing.

Raph just leaned a little more weight on you, edging one brow ridge up towards Mikey as if to say ‘I told you so’.

“No turtle smooches for, like, a week!” You twisted, grabbed the half empty bag of marshmallows, tossed it at his head in retaliation.

He caught it easily. “How would you go about this, then?” He asked Mikey, depositing the bag on the other side of the couch, out of harms way.

Mikey huffed, nudged the pizza boxes out of your reach before they could fall as well in your quest to budge his brother. “We could just show her how to get out of simple things, not expect her to move a good four hundred pounds on her first try.”

“This isn’t four hundred pounds.” Raph gestured to where you were now trying to pry his arm off. “This is baby weight.”

“Oh! I’ll show you baby weight!” You snarled, hand shooting out for his bandana.

You got one tail before he could pull his head out of range, and you jerked his head towards you at the same time you pushed his side with your foot. His arm snapped out to correct the balance, and you pushed harder, twisting until his arm was banded across the small of your back and you were half off the couch.

“Now you’ve just made it worse.” He groused at you, hooking a thumb under your bent knee and pulling. He slung a leg over your own to trap the limb between thigh and the hard edge of his knee, digging just firm enough into the softness to leave you sputtering at the stretch.

“Ouch, ouch ouch-” You yanked on the bandana again, only succeeding in putting more weight on your arched back and pain in your leg. “Uncle, uncle, uncle.”

“I don’t know no ‘uncle’.” Raph said, sitting back calm as could be despite the fact his head was still tilted sideways. “Sounds like you’re calling someone else’s name there, princess.”

“You aren’t teaching me, you’re just being mean.” You accused, gritting your teeth at the feel of the metal couch frame on your ribs through the fabric. 

He chuckled, amused, and an idea popped into your head. You let go of his bandana, and smooth your arms out along the couch as you settled as best you could. “Alright, then, if you two won’t teach me, I’ll just ask Leo.”

Mikey groaned out loud, the annoyed sound being pushed between set teeth as he threw his hands up in the air.

You could feel Raph eye the back of your head, so you tilted it side to side, counting down to see how long the bait would lay there.

“Fine, you wanna learn?” He yanked on your leg, and you squealed, grabbing for a cushion before he pulled you, and it, across the floor. 

Raph flipped you over and without hesitation you wielded the couch cushion like a shield, keeping him from tickling you. “No! Raph wa-”

Mikey turned resolutely back to the tv, turning the volume up a little bit to cover up the sounds of you squealing. Raph had finally yanked the cushion from you, and without your barrier he’d quickly found all your ticklish spots.

“This is what you get for not having a protective shell.” He growled playfully and you lost it at the sass, strangling to breath while trying to twist away. “How’re you gonna get out of this, princess? C’mon, think.”

“St-a-St-” You couldn’t get enough breath to get out the full word, settled instead for closing your mouth, desperate to keep your hiccups down and not let your giggles erupt into a belting bray. You could feel the embarrassing noise creeping up, your throat tightening trying to keep it in until Raph hit that spot just under your ribcage just right and it exploded out of you in a loud, dry heave. You wheezed through it, gasping, trying to stop-

Raph rolled you to your side, large hand rubbing up and down your back. He kept up the steady motion until you could draw a short breath.“You alright, sweetheart? Haven’t heard that in a while.”

Mikey was on your other side, looking concerned, and you gave them a wobbly thumbs up, sucking in air again with the occasional wheeze. Raph rolled you back on your back easily, coaxed your arms upwards so your lungs would have more room to expand.

You fought the movement, but he persisted. “Not tickling you again, promise. Gotta get some air back in you.”

“Dude, you about broke her.” Mikey sniggered, and, ignoring the dark look Raph threw his way, reached out to poke your leg. You grumbled at the intrusion, hands still trapped in Raph’s hold. When Mikey poked you again, you snapped out a knee, digging it with precision into the soft line between his plastron and carapace.

“Ow! Babes!” 

Raph laughed at his little brother’s problem. “Those knees are lethal.” He squeezed your wrists gently before letting go. 

You sat up quickly, retreated back to the couch again where you could tuck into the corner and avoid any more surprises. Both turtles had returned their attention to the tv by the time you had fully caught your breath.

“Raph?” You asked, a parrot of earlier, and he grunted in question, turning an eye to where he thought you were before looking around wildly. 

He snorted when he saw you wedged in the corner, a cushion in front and a blanket over you. “You building a fortress?”

You hummed, not about to be distracted. “Will you train me to break out of holds?”

He sighed, the sound resigned, and Mikey poked his arm, squawked when the bigger brother retaliated with a shove. 

“Yeah, I will, sweetheart.” He held up a thick finger to cut off your reflexive smile. “But, we do it my way, which means we’re gonna start with strength training.” He turned the finger to jab it against Mikey’s chest, the younger groaning at the pressure, “and you’re helping,” before turning his attention back to you, “Tomorrow show up early, and we’ll get started.” 

You nodded, happily tapping your feet, content to return to watching tv, when Raph leaned further against the couch. 

“Oh, and princess?” Your head turned to show you were listening, “One more thing.” A hand barreled under the cushion, circled your ankle, and you yelped in surprise as he pulled you, and your makeshift fort, across the couch, back towards your original place behind him. 

He gave that one sided smirk that got him in and out of all sorts of trouble, gaze traveling slowly from the hold he had on your ankle to your wide eyes, and rumbled, “leave Fearless out of this, kay?”

#tmnt fanficion #bayverse tmnt #bayverse tmnt fanfiction #tmnt fanfic #tmnt raphael #tmnt michelangelo #bayverse rahpael #bayverse raph #bayverse michelangelo #bayverse mikey #tmnt x reader #bayverse raph x reader #bayverse michelangelo x reader

[love-toxin]

i finally got around to watching a play through of RE4 separate ways and now i just wanna be a pitiful research assistant abandoned by my team that ada stumbles across,,,,

imagine just hitting all her soft spots. a naive, good hearted, timid thing who she can’t resist helping. she tries to act all aloof and uncaring but she Loves the feeling having someone cling to her more than anything.

she has this one line after she sees ashley being kidnapped that’s like “babysitting is tough huh?” and she’s all mocking towards leon, but she totally loves mother henning you, making sure you’re not too tired or lagging behind. she goes out her way to keep you out of danger whenever there are any plagas around. and if you even so much as scrape your knee she is dropping everything to make you feel better.

omg and when her infection flares up and you’re worrying all over her it takes everything in her not to pull you into a random room in the castle to absolutely wreck you for being so cute and concerned about her 🤭

unnnggghhh.....ada..... (<- hasn't played separate ways yet)

You're so gentle and meek. You're not really working under Saddler, are you? That's what she thinks when she first meets you, and she's partially right. You don't really have any idea what you've gotten yourself into....and yet you've still been abandoned by your team. The only one that even tried to help you was Luis, the charmer. But then you got separated, and you got lost and scared, and Ada came to rescue you because...well, she's not really sure why. Maybe because she just couldn't stand to listen to your cries anymore, or maybe because there's a little piece inside her that still wants to help the weak and the guileless.

And it's for the better for her, it turns out, because you actually can be pretty useful to her. You might be delicate and fragile, but you can point her in the directions she needs to go, decipher the landscape with familiarity she doesn't possess, and you do it with such a cute, eager insistence because Ada saved your life and it's the least you can do to help her back. Doing the heavy lifting isn't so hard when she's got someone on her side, even if it means she feels responsible for saving you from the plagas, the island, Saddler, and Wesker.

With Leon in the mix, however, it complicates things further. He's like you: a goody two shoes. He could very easily convince you to join him, to follow his lead, and he could put you in so much danger on this little suicide mission to save the president's daughter. And though Ada can try her best to keep you away from each other, there are times when you just end up....falling into Leon's arms. Like what happened about an hour ago, when she lost sight of you during Leon's assault on Salazar's castle--and she still hasn't managed to get you back. Well, not until you got separated from Leon in one of those trapped hallways and went running into another room to hide, only to find that you've ducked into the bookbinding tower.

It's a miracle she even gets to you in time, slinging herself around on that hookshot to fly through the already-opened window, just in time to launch herself feet-first into one of those possessed knights and send it squealing and flailing into the fireplace. But when you look at her with those soft eyes and that teary face, she just melts, and it reminds her of why she picked you up off your knees and saved you in the first place.

"Adaaaa!" You sob and scramble to your feet, running for her in your stained lab coat and hugging her tight enough to bruise. Usually you're the one fussing over her and her parasite, but now you're like a child wailing for their mummy--and it's so cute, god it's so cute.

"There, there." She gets to croon, stroking your hair with a gentle hand and smiling softly as you bury your face in her shoulder. "I'm here, now." You don't have to be scared. God, she's getting soft. Getting all melty and gentle with some whimpering little cupcake. But at the same time, her grip on you tightens because she knows she's never leaving you by yourself again. She can't take such a precious little thing like you getting hurt....no, it's not that bad to keep her eye on you. Can't leave you alone, can't leave you behind, certainly can't hand you over to Wesker--it looks like you might just become her new mission partner after all. Or maybe you can be a pretty new piece in her apartment to welcome her home after these long, long days. Who knows what the future holds for you and her...together?

#ada wong #ada wong x reader #ada wong x you #resident evil #resident evil 4 #re4make #ellie writes #anons #gn!reader

[intheticklecloset]

Strawberry Isagi (Blue Lock)

Summary: Bachira tickles Isagi in his own playful, Bachira way. That's pretty much it. 😊

A/N: So cards on the table - last year I watched and fell head over heels in love with Blue Lock alongside my friend @giggly-squiggily! I've been writing fics for it on my own and finally decided to go public with it this year! And OMG do I ship Bachisagi SO MUCH! 😍😍😍 This particular fic is more platonic than romantic, but it could be read either way. Enjoy! 💖

Word Count: 928

~~~

There was no way out of Blue Lock unless you quit or were disqualified. Everyone knew that; it had been cemented into their minds on day one.

Right now, however, Isagi was really, really wishing he had somewhere to hide.

“Bachira!” he cried, wriggling uselessly around on his sleeping mat, kicking the covers every which way and generally making an embarrassment of himself. “Dohon’t!”

“Uh-oh. Are we a little ticklish, Isagi?” the smaller boy giggled, gently wiggling his fingers into Isagi’s sides, forcing muffled chuckles past his lips.

“Wahahait! Bahachira!”

Isagi tried to roll over, but Bachira was straddling his lower back, keeping him pinned in place  face down on his bedroll so that all he could do was flail and kick and sputter out embarrassed giggles as his teammate explored this new discovery. And if he knew Bachira, he wouldn’t be satisfied with simply learning he was ticklish; no, he wouldn’t stop until he’d covered every last inch of him, finding his worst spots for future reference, and that was why Isagi was so desperate to get away. It was bad enough he was so stupidly ticklish, but to have someone like Bachira constantly poking and jabbing at him when it was least convenient? The thought only made him kick even more.

“My, you’re a squirmy one, aren’t you?” Bachira switched tactics to begin pinching his ribs from the bottom up, taking the time to make sure each round of pressure did the most tickly damage it could.

Isagi squealed, frantically reaching for his pillow so he could muffle himself. “Bahahahachira! Cuhuhuhut it out alreheheheady!”

Somewhere nearby, he heard a few of his other teammates chuckle at the scene. Isagi flushed bright red. That was the other reason he wanted to be able to hide – having everyone on the team know about this weakness of his was humiliating. He was here to become the best striker in the world; how could he uphold that image when he was helpless like this?

It wasn’t like he’d been the only one tickled on Team Z; Bachira had made his rounds with pretty much everyone at this point. But still!

Speaking of, the smaller player had now moved up to his armpits, trying to wiggle his way in. “Aww, don’t fight me, Isagi. I just want to hear you laugh!”

“I ahahaham lahahaughing!” Isagi whined, trying to buck his hips upward and deter his friend.

Bachira was immovable, however, and quickly changed tactics again. He went back to digging into Isagi’s side, which was a guaranteed way to get the brunette to try and physically stop him, which left his armpits open, which meant…

“Gotcha!” Bachira declared gleefully, diving his fingers into the opened up spaces, grinning at the shriek that flew past Isagi’s lips. “Ooh, good spot? Does it tickle here, Isagi? Hmm? Well – I’m waiting for an answer~”

Isagi was going to – well, he couldn’t quite bring himself to think he’d kill Bachira, but he was certainly going to get him back for this.

“Yehehehehes, it tihihihihickles there! Wohohohohould you stahahahahap it?! Please!”

“Not yet~ I wanna see where else I can make you laugh.” At that moment Bachira seemed to hit a particularly sensitive spot, as Isagi shrieked into his pillow once more and brought his legs up to try and kick at him, one foot landing successfully on his teammate’s back for a brief moment.

But then Bachira hummed with renewed interest, and Isagi knew he was done for. “Nohoho! Wait, nohohohoho!”

“Oh? Do your feet want to play, too? They must be tired from all that running today,” Bachira teased, moving so fast the poor brunette had no chance of getting away or stopping him. In the next moment his ankles had been straddled and his bare feet were being tickled mercilessly, sending him into bouts of laughter that were much louder than anything he’d let fly before. Bachira sounded far too pleased with himself. “Ooh, I think this is a really good spot!”

“GAHAHAHAHAHAHA BAHAHAHAHACHIRA, DOHOHOHOHON’T!!” Isagi screamed, caught between wanting to muffle his cries and wanting to beg for mercy, trying to twist onto his side but not having the strength for it. He settled on slapping his hand on the ground in the universal tap-out gesture. “PLEHEHEHEHEASE STAHAHAHAHAP!! ANYWHEHEHEHEHERE BUT THEHEHEHERE!!”

“Anywhere?”

“YEHEHEHEHEHES!!”

“All right, then…” Bachira left his feet alone, allowing Isagi a momentary sigh of relief before he was flipped onto his back and straddled again, this time with wiggling fingers descending on his open belly, slipping under his sweatshirt to get at the sensitive bare skin.

Isagi squeaked and burst into giggles that flowed freely now that he had no way to hide his face or muffle his sounds. His hands flew down to grasp Bachira’s wrists, but the beaming smile and playful gleam in his friend’s eyes stopped him from actually trying to push him away. Why was that?

“Look how red you are. You’re like a strawberry! How cute~” Bachira chuckled, leaning down so they were nose-to-nose. “I could just eat you up, Isagi~”

The brunette’s eyes widened at the statement, feeling himself blush even harder now. Was it getting hot in here?!

“Get a room,” Chigiri mocked playfully from somewhere nearby, and that sealed Isagi’s fate in his own mind. He resigned himself to giggling and squirming until Bachira was good and done, and if it was obvious how he felt about him now, so be it. He was going to be the best athlete in the world! He could take a little more tickling!

Probably…

#fanfiction #tickle fic #blue lock #isagi yoichi #bachira meguru #bachisagi #fluff #playful #tickling #ticklish #tickle