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#but I am storming SICK OF IT and I still have SEVEN WEEKS of this DRAGON-KISSED BLACK-BURNT RUST-RIDDEN CLASS

theforgottenmcrmy · 2 years

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Captivated (Ser Harwin Strong x Reader)

***please note that this is a sequel to “Safety”, which can be read HERE. Reading Safety before reading this is not necessary, but doing so will provide additional context for this story***

***please note that this now has a sequel, “Storms”, which can be read HERE.

Pairing: Ser Harwin Strong x Tyrell! Female Reader

Warnings: GOT typical sexism, canon divergence, references to an ill parent, spoilers for House of the Dragon

Word Count: 6,000 ish.

Summary: While serving as Princess Rhaenyra’s lady in waiting, you’ve been granted ample time to become well-acquainted with the man they call Breakbones. The Princess’ recent tours of Westeros in search of a befitting King Consort have only allowed the two of you to grow closer, and now you’re completely taken with Ser Harwin Strong. But the Princess’ recent tour to the Riverlands, in addition to some troubling news from home concerning the health of your father, Lord Tyrell, have left you feeling discouraged. You’ve begun to fear your affections for the strongest knight in all the Seven Kingdoms may not be returned. Perhaps a surprise visitor from Highgarden will clear things up...

A/N: Y’all... I am FLOORED. Absolutely shooketh. Nothing I have written has ever received such an overwhelming response. Thank you all so much to everyone who liked, commented, and reblogged Safety. I appreciate each and every one of you so very much. I am not sure how many parts this series will get, but the ending of this one pretty clearly sets up a part 3... so let me know if that’s something you’d like to see. Please see the A/N at the ending of this chapter for notes regarding the taglist. Thank you all again. I hope you have a wonderful rest of the week! 🖤 PS: this is a Criston Cole hate account. #sorrynotsorry.

I really hope the tags work and I won’t have to post this twice.🥲 Please forgive me if I do.

“Thank you, Your Grace.”

Princess Rhaenyra smiled warmly at the small child, as did you. The little girl humbly accepted the half a loaf of bread from the Princess’ hands.

You and the Princess were currently in the heart of King’s Landing, inside one of the city orphanages. The harvest that year was already proving to be bountiful, almost entirely in part to the good people who worked the lands of your home. It seemed that there was plenty of food to go around those days, and you were grateful that the Princess and the King were of the mind that it ought not to be wasted.

Back in the Reach, you and your brother had often done the same- you’d visited all of the orphanages and sick homes in Oldtown and even The Arbor at one point or another. Your father has instilled the concept of giving back to those in need very early on in your lives, as your grandmother had instilled the same in him.

You had mentioned this in passing to Princess Rhaenyra one day, when she was still becoming acquainted with you. Once she’d heard of it, she declared it to be a worthwhile endeavor, and adopted something similar as part of her own regular routine. As such, she had made it a point to visit a new place in need throughout the city each week.

While it warmed your heart to help those less fortunate than yourself, especially the parentless children, you were happy that the Princess had decided to become more hands-on with her charitable works for other reasons. You were no fool- you knew how positively the common folk viewed noble men and women who showed them sympathy and kindness.

As lady in waiting to the future Queen, you knew it would be in Princess Rhaenyra’s best interest to win the hearts of the people as soon as possible. Dark plots were actively working against Princess Rhaenyra already, and the more political tools she equipped herself with, the better she’d fare in any future struggle for power.

While you had fully supported the Princess’ recent charitable endeavors, as did King Viserys, others from Court were less than thrilled with the idea. Queen Alicent had voiced some concern, as did Ser Criston Cole. He had deemed it too dangerous.

Even now, the Dornish knight was visibly sweating from across the room. From what the Princess had told you personally, and from what you had heard from others, Ser Criston Cole had experienced many battles, and lived to tell the tale of them all. And yet, in a simple orphanage within King’s Landing, he appeared to be visibly sweating and his eyes shifted across the room madly. His nervousness on behalf of the Princess’ safety had to have occupied his every thought.

Standing beside him, and much more relaxed in composure, was Ser Harwin Strong.

In your time at Court, Ser Harwin Strong had become a member of the City Watch. As a result, he’d become quite familiar with the inner workings of the city, and was comfortable walking amongst the streets. Ser Harwin had proven himself to be an asset for the Princess’ repeated journeys out into the city. Being out in the heart of the city didn’t appear to scare him or cause him any serious cause for concern. But you doubted anything would.

Unlike the panicked eyes of Ser Criston, Ser Harwin’s gentle eyes watched over you and the Princess carefully as you interacted with the children bouncing with excitement around you. You caught him staring at you as you continued to distribute bread, but forced yourself not to think too much of it.

Eventually, it was time to return the Red Keep. You could have sworn you’d never seen Ser Criston look so relieved- though perhaps that would only be true until the Princess’ next escapade concluded. He and Ser Harwin scouted the entrance to the orphanage to make sure there was no sign of danger while you and Princess Rahenyra bid the children goodbye with promises to return in a few weeks.

You made your way out of the dwelling to where the carriage, along with the rest of the guards who had been recruited to comprise the escort, was waiting for the two of you. Princess Rhaenyra climbed in first. You were quick to follow, but were temporarily paused when someone politely offered you an arm for assistance.

It was Ser Harwin.

“My Lady,” he said, bowing his head downwards towards his extended arm.

Despite yourself, you smiled at him as a sign of your gratitude, and hopped up and inside the carriage with his assistance. Once you and Princess Rhaenyra were both seated inside, the carriage was lifted up and off the ground, beginning the return back to the Red Keep. Ser Criston and Ser Harwin, one of them on either side of the carriage, kept vigilant eyes on your surroundings as the entourage moved through the streets. You caught glimpses of the two knights every now and then through the grated windows near the top of the carriage.

“I cannot tell you how relieved I am to be back,” Princess Rhaenyra sighed after a moment. She leant back against the wall of the carriage, and settled down further in her seat.

From your seat across from her, you offered her a small smile. “I recall the feeling of returning home after a long journey very well, Your Grace. I dare say that there is little else that compares.”

Princess Rhaenyra laughed shortly, but you knew she meant no offense. “Though I dare say the feeling of being out of the clutches of power-hungry suitors to be a far better one than that which you have described.”

You stifled a laugh, knowing your involuntary response would be frowned upon by most others at Court. However, none would be more displeased to hear of it than King Viserys, who had through painstakingly great lengths to arrange the tour of the Seven Kingdoms. It was all organized in the hope that his daughter might find a suitor worthy of both her heart and the title of King Consort.

Unfortunately, the tour had proven to be unsuccessful thus far. Princess Rhaenyra had visited the Reach, the Westerlands, and the Riverlands, and not a single notable contender had emerged- at least not in the eyes of Rhaenyra. She had claimed the majority of the hopefuls who had paid her visit to be either far too old, or far too young. She noted that the rest of them had been about as “insufferable” as their power hungry father and grandfathers, who had watched the proceedings with greedy eyes.

You had only received second hand accounts of the events, and largely from the Princess’ sole perspective. While it would have been expected of you to attend Princess Rhaenyra throughout her travels, she had taken her junior ladies in waiting with her for assistance instead. Meanwhile, she had tasked you with what she deemed to be far more important.

Princess Rhaenyra had asked you to stay behind, in King's Landing, to see to her personal affairs. It had been difficult to accept at first, even more so when the Princess went to visit the Reach. But you trusted and respected her opinion that you would be more of use to her elsewhere. While there would always be secretarial duties to attend to, and charitable functions to plan, the main reason the Princess had asked you to stay behind was for reconnaissance purposes.

Foul whispers about the Princess were abound, and they only grew more troubling in her absence. But with you, an obvious ally and devout supporter of the future Queen, roaming around the Red Keep in her stead, the whispers were more timid, and their perpetrators were kept at bay. Any rumors that still managed to reach your ears were immediately reported to Princess Rhaenyra upon her return.

“At least the Riverlands were quite remarkable,” Princess Rhaenyra noted positively, changing the subject. She gazed out the window, as if recalling a scene from her memory. “Even though they are named for such, I was truly amazed at the sheer amount of rivers we came across.”

You smiled at her enthusiasm.

“Have you ever been? To the Riverlands?”

“I’m afraid I have not had the pleasure, Your Grace.”

“We must change that then,” the Princess insisted, giving you a conspiring smile.

“Do you intend to return to the Riverlands soon?” you asked, with sincere interest. “Has one of the suitors finally caught your attention?”

Princess Rhaenyra rolled her eyes, a gesture that most would deem extremely unladylike. However, you knew it to be a common occurrence for her, and had grown quite accustomed to it. Her boldness was appealing, and refreshing amongst the other “highly-refined” ladies at Court. She had thick skin, and never hesitated to speak her mind; you knew that both qualities would serve her well as future Queen.

“Don’t sound too eager, Lady Y/N,” she chided playfully. “Lord Tully was a gracious host, of course. But unfortunately, all of the gentlemen callers were just the same. Too old, too young, or too-”

“-Insufferable,” you finished for her, having heard her same speech twice before.

Princess Rhaenyra laughed. “Precisely.”

In your time in service to the Princess, you had come to be quite close. You considered her a friend, and could only hope that she considered you to be the same. On bolder days, you might have contemplated whether Queen Alicent’s marriage to her father had left the young woman in search of some companionship. If there was a void in that area of her life, you were happy to fill it. You missed her when she was gone on her travels… But perhaps you missed one of her most recent traveling companions even more.

“It was not entirely a waste, I suppose,” Princess Rhaenyra admitted then, her tone shifting once more. “Ser Harwin Strong is far from terrible company.”

Immediately, you glanced at the carriage windows with worry. Was it possible that the very man in question was able to overhear you now? The streets were alive with people, but if Ser Harwin was walking right alongside the carriage…

However, Princess Rhaenyra did not seem deterred. In fact, noticing your apprehension only encouraged her more. She leaned forward in her seat, and said, “We had many great conversations, Ser Harwin and I.”

You forced yourself to smile, torn between the comradery and duty you felt for the princess, and the aching pain you felt in your heart.

“I can tell you all about our conversations, if you’d like,” Princess Rhaenyra offered, clearly, but thankfully, oblivious to your inner struggle. “I believe you’ll find them to be very interesting.”

Normally, you would readily indulge in some harmless gossip with her. But now, you loathed the thought of what she might tell you. “If it is your wish to share such details, Your Grace.”

The Princess finally noticed that something was amiss. She sat back in her seat, and gave you a befuddled look. “Is everything alright, Y/N?” she questioned. “You’ve been very quiet these past few days…”

You’d always prided yourself on your ability to be honest with the Princess. But at that moment, you could not compel yourself to tell her the entire truth. So, you settled for a half-truth, and opted to share with her one of the two things that hung very heavy over your head as of late.

“My father has taken ill,” you admit, lowering your voice so as not to be overheard by anyone outside of the carriage. “I received a letter from my brother just a few days past”

Princess Rhaenyra’s confused expression shifted to one of sympathy.

“The Maesters say he should pull through,” you continued, “But I am worried.”

The Princess had never been anything less than kind to you, but still, you could not have anticipated her next move. She reached across the carriage and placed a soothing hand overtop of your own, which you hadn’t realized you’d wrung together in your concern.

“My father has always described Lord Larris as a strong man,” she assured you full-heartedly. “I trust the gods will see to it that he recovers fully and swiftly.”

You were touched by her gesture. “Thank you, Your Grace.”

“Should you desire to go visit him, I will agree to it at once.”

“I will keep that in mind, Princess.”

Later that evening, once the Princess had retired, you made your way from her chambers towards your own. Though the hallways of the Red Keep were seldom unoccupied, save the guards keeping watch, they certainly appeared to be that night.

It was unfortunate that the one person you encountered was the one man that, for once, you hoped not to see.

“Ser Harwin.”

The knight paused in his tracks, and bowed his head graciously in greeting. “Lady Y/N.”

“It is a good evening, is it not?”

“It is,” he agreed, smiling softly. “And, seeing as I have been fortunate enough to speak with you, it stands to improve even more.”

Despite your reservations, you blushed.

The relationship between yourself and Ser Harwin Strong, much like your relationship with Princess Rhaenyra, had grown tremendously during your time at Court. And, it had blossomed even as of late. While the Princess had tasked you with seeing to matters in King’s Landing while she went on her tours of Westeros, there were times when you had seen to everything that needed to be done, and as a result, you sought company instead. More often than not, that company had been found in Ser Harwin. Though he had his own duties to see to as a member of the City Watch, he’d never failed to make time for you.

At first, it started off with polite conversation occurring throughout strolls throughout the castle gardens and surrounding grounds. Princess Rhaenyra was correct in her insinuation earlier in the day- despite the bruteish nickname he bore, Ser Harwin was more than a decent conversationalist. The topics were light hearted, but any conversation with him sent your heart racing anyway.

Eventually, you began to share meals together on occasion. Deeper conversations occurred during those times. You’d come to discover that you and Ser Harwin had much more in common than either of you realized. You were both very close to your families. You had each lost your mothers at a young age, but both of you had good relationships with your fathers, and absolutely adored your siblings. He had enamored you with tales of the haunted halls of Harrenhal, and in exchange, you had told him all about the gardens of Highgarden and seasonal festivals that the Reach boasted.

Most recently, the two of you, along with a small party composed of his brother, two sisters, and another few members of the Court, had gone for a few days’ hunt in the Kingswood. You hadn’t lucked out on the hunt like some of the others had, but it was a thrilling experience nonetheless.

The hunt had led Ser Harwin to discover your familiarity with a bow. Though perhaps it was not very lady-like, your father had taught you how to shoot at a young age, deciding that it had the potential to be a unique party trick, at the very least. Your hobby had never been put to use by targeting live animals, but rather, stationary or inanimate objects thrown up into the air. For you, it had never been about the hunt, just the sport of it all.

As soon as you explained as much to Ser Harwin, he requested you to demonstrate your skills. You attempted to politely decline, but upon seeing a disappointed glint in his eyes, you changed your mind. A small crowd had assembled for the showdown between you and Ser Harwin one afternoon. His sisters, surprisingly, cheered for your victory instead of their older brother’s. You found it to be amusing, but oddly touching. Ser Harwin took it in stride, and merely jested about the familial betrayal.

At the end of the shooting rounds, you emerged as the winner, but by only a narrow margin. Ser Harwin could not be faulted; it was well known he was far more talented with a sword than bow, anyway.

Part of you feared Ser Harwin’s reaction, worried that his displeasure would put a strain on your growing relationship. But he had surprised you- as he often did.

“Any boy can denounce a loss as unfair, or even simply blame the wind for a poor shot,” he’d said, grinning ear to ear as he plucked one of your arrows from the bullseye of a target, and handed it back to you gracefully. “It takes a man to be willing to admit defeat to the truly better aim, regardless of who that victor may be.”

Ser Harwin Strong was a flatterer, through and through.

You raised your head to look him fully straight on. Speaking in such close proximity to Ser Harwin always made you recall just how massive he was. Your chin was practically tilted upwards, and his head was bowed down to regard you.

“I apologize that we have not been able to speak much before now,” Ser Harwin said, sounding and looking completely sincere.

“Your apologies are not necessary, My Lord. I am sure you’ve had a great deal of things to attend to, especially after having been gone these past few weeks.”

As was expected, Ser Harwin had traveled with Princess Rhaenyra during her tour of the Riverlands- his home. You had no doubt he had presented himself to her as a potential suitor in Lord Tully’s halls, along with dozens of other vying contenders. As the oldest son of Lord Lyonel, and Heir to Harrenhal, you knew Ser Harwin had every right to offer the Princess his hand. In fact, his failure to do so might have even been considered a slight against the crown- one that his father, the current Master of Laws, would not have likely been able to afford.

But you dreaded the day when news would reach your ears of Ser Harwin Strong’s betrothal. Between his title, strength, and handsomeness, it was a downright wonder why a match had not been made for him yet. You knew it was only a matter of time… and while you had come to cultivate deep feelings for the knight, Princess Rhaenyra would be a far better match for him.

Since their return from the Riverlands, you noticed more and more frequent looks exchanged between the two of them. Knowing looks. It was apparent to you that Princess Rhaenyra and Ser Harwsin held information that you were not privy to. And you had a sinking feeling as to what it was.

An announcement had yet to be made, but Rhaenyra had yet to complete her tour. She was off to the Stormlands the following week. And yet, it was likely all for show. She had to be fair and allow other potential suitors to believe they still stood a chance for her hand- when clearly they did not.

Princess Rhaenyra must have chosen Ser Harwin Strong.

The Realm’s Delight and Breakbones? They made a better pair than one would think. She was a dragon, and he was a fearsome warrior. Her mental ingenuity would only be supported by his brute force of strength. Together, they would take down enemies to her claim one by one. They would want or need for nothing- and neither would their children.

And you, you would resign yourself to your place. Despite being the daughter of Lord Tyrell, you could never hope to compete with the Princess of Westeros for a suitor’s hand. And you never would. You had sworn her your allegiance… your true heart’s desire be damned.

“How were your travels, My Lord?”

“A bit tiring, if I may speak plainly,” he replied carefully. Even you had to admit that he sounded fatigued. “But it was necessary, which has made it easier to bear.”

I suppose winning the heart of the future Queen of Westeros made the trip worthwhile as well, you couldn’t help but think to yourself. “I am glad to hear that, My Lord.”

Ser Harwin reached a hand up to smooth through his brown locks, and he shifted his weight from one foot to the other. You realized with slight shock that he was demonstrating an emotion you had yet to see him display in all the time you’d known him- Ser Harwin was nervous.

“Are you well, Ser Harwin?” you questioned, not caring at all about the concern which was evident in your voice.

Ser Harwin’s gaze softened even more. Your concern had moved him. “All is well, Lady Y/N…” He cleared his throat, before his eyes fell to the floor. “Or, rather, there are no physical ailments burdening me…”

On one hand, you were taken aback by the foreignness of it all. This large man looked as nervous and shy as some of the children you had visited that same morning. On the other hand, it was slightly endearing to learn that a man with the nickname Breakbones was not able to escape the burden of emotions that plagued everyone else. He was just as capable of being human as those two, even three times less his size.

Before you mentally dared to compare him to a gentle giant, Ser Harwin continued.

“I had some… rather enlightening conversations with Princess Rhaenyra during our travels,” he admitted, the nerves he physically displayed betraying his voice ever so slightly as well. “The conversations opened my eyes to a truth that I have denied for quite some time.”

You were surprised to hear that he had not been taken with Princess Rhaenyra upon first sight- most men were. But yet again, Ser Harwin was not like most men.

“I was hoping to discuss this further with you,” Ser Harwin confessed. He looked you straight on, and you couldn’t tear your eyes from his for a moment, even if you had wanted to. “Somewhere more private?”

There was a hopeful glint in his hazel eyes, but the thought of advising him on matters pertaining to keeping the Princess’ interest made you feel suddenly ill.

“Perhaps we could dine together in a few days?” he suggested then, his nerves amplified by your lack of immediate response. “Or, maybe we could take a walk in the gardens?”

You almost caved right then and there. Almost. Ser Harwin knew how much you liked walking through the castle gardens. Even though they paled in comparison to those of Highgarden, they still reminded you of home, and walking along the paths lined with various greenery and floral displays brought you comfort.

“I shall have to see, My Lord,” you replied, even though it practically pained you to not immediately agree. “The Princess has given me leave to visit my father, and I am inclined to take her offer.”

Instead of looking disappointed, Ser Harwin gave you a look of pure guilt.

“My sincerest apologies, My Lady,” he said. “... I may have inadvertently heard about the news of your father. While I did not mean to overhear you, I heard the Princess speak my name this afternoon, while the escort was on the way back to the Red Keep… I feared she required something of me. By the time I realized that I was not needed, I fear I may have heard too much.”

It was nice to have confirmation that the walls of the carriage were not very thick, if only for future reference. Part of you felt embarrassed by the fact that Ser Harwin had overheard your personal matter, but the other part felt relieved that the knowledge that had clouded your mind over the past few days had been made known to one of the few individuals you trusted in King’s Landing. And seeing as Ser Harwin looked and sounded as guilty as he admitted to be, you could not find it in yourself to be cross with him.

“Your apologies are not necessary, My Lord.”

“I wish Lord Tyrell a quick recovery,” he confided to you. “And, should you leave for Highgarden, I wish you safe travels.”

You smiled graciously. “Thank you, Ser Harwin. Should I see him, I shall pass your well wishes along to my father.”

It was Ser Harwin’s turn to smile then. But after a few moments, nervousness seeped into his composure once again. Though he was more soft-spoken than you had once imagined him to be, his next words were said so softly, that had you not been alone in the corridor, with only a few inches between yourselves, you might not have heard them at all.

“Should you decide to leave, Lady Y/N… I fear I will find myself counting down the days until I am in your company once more.”

… This man. This man was going to rip out your heart, tear it into pieces, toss it on the ground, and stomp on it through his impending marriage to the Princess you served dutifully. You knew you had to begin to prepare yourself to suffer through it… But you would also take any attention and warm sentiments that Ser Harwin Strong would grant you in the meantime.

The memories of his kindness that he had shown you would have to be enough to get you through the pain you were sure to endure.

Despite the forwardness of Ser Harwin’s words, what was more alarming was the stark seriousness of his expression. He meant every word of what he had just said, and you believed it fully. Still, you would have to be daft to decry him now just for the sake of proprietary.

“I must admit… I shall miss you too, My Lord.”

By the end of the following week, Princess Rhaenyra was off on her tour of the Stormlands, with Ser Criston Cole glady serving as one of her escorts.

You had seen Ser Harwin in passing since the night you last spoke, but you did not make any further meaningful conversation with him. Though you missed your talks, you reasoned it was better for your heart to start putting some distance between the two of you now, before his marriage to Princess Rhaenyra would place you worlds apart.

You had seen to all the tasks that Princess Rhaenyra had left you with, and had begun to pack and ready the rest of your things. The plan was to embark on the trek back to Highgarden within a day or two.

But your plan was cut short when a messenger knocked on the door to your chambers. You had a visitor, and they were waiting for you in the courtyard of the Red Keep.

You hurried to the courtyard with moderate speed. It was seldom you had visitors- a cousin had visited once, a few weeks back. But besides that, no one had yet to pay you a visit. Many visitors to the Red Keep had it in mind to speak with many, many others besides the likes of you.

But when you entered the courtyard, you noticed the small entourage that had just arrived. No carriage in sight- just several men and their steeds. But that didn’t mean the visitor was from a place nearby. When your eyes fell upon a lean figure donned in the familiar colors of your House, you beamed brightly, knowing that without a doubt, this visitor was truly one for you.

“Brother?”

Your brother, Derron Tyrell, the Heir to Highgarden, turned to face you upon your call. When he saw you, he grinned. “Sister!”

You crossed the courtyard in large strides and practically leapt into Derron’s arms. Your brother caught you and returned your familial embrace with ease.

“I have missed you!” you told him hurriedly, pulling away to look at him. Even though it had only been a few months, going on a year at most, since you had seen him last, it had felt like far longer. But Derron looked the same as he always had, and it brought you joy to see him in good health.

“And I you, Y/N,” Derron replied, his smile still as bright as your own.

“What in the Seven Hells are you doing here?” you demanded of him in a hushed whisper, your arms falling back down to your sides. Suddenly, a terrible thought entered your mind. “Did I miss a raven? Is father-”

“Father is alive,” your brother was quick to assure you. “And you did not miss a raven, for there was none sent to you.”

You let out a sigh of relief.

Derron looked at his entourage surrounding him. Though you recognized most of them as bannermen with whom he had rode and fought beside for years, you could tell that your brother was wary of their presence at this particular moment.

“Come now, Sister- we have much to discuss.”

It seemed that someone, although not you, had been expecting Derron Tyrell to arrive in King’s Landing. Chambers had already been set aside for him and his men, and he’d even been given a special audience with the King later in the week to discuss ongoing matters in the Reach.

Later that day, once your brother was settled in his chambers and unpacked, you met with him. You were eager to learn of the cause of his surprise visit, and to privately discuss what he had referred to in the courtyard.

The pair of you were seated at a table on the balcony connected to his chambers. As Derron poured you a glass of wine, before pouring one for himself, you asked him the question that had been on the forefront of your mind since his arrival.

“How is Father?”

“He’s made a turn for the better since I last wrote to you,” Derron answered truthfully, setting the pitcher of wine down. “He was still too weak to travel here, but the Maesters were even more hopeful than before by the time I left.”

That was great news. Perhaps your return visit to the Reach could wait a few more days, and once your brother’s affairs in King’s Landing were settled, you could ride back to Highgarden with him, and be all the more safer for it.

“What brings you here, Derron?” you asked then.

“You may not have received a raven, but Father did,” he replied. “Father received two of them, actually.”

“Who were they from?”

“The first was from Princess Rhaenyra herself.”

That was extremely surprising. Had you done something to upset the Princess? She seemed alright when she bade you goodbye before departing for the Stormlands… but perhaps she was attempting to save face in front of those around her. Had she written to your father and asked you to be removed from her service?

“I can see your mind racing,” your brother observed with a smirk. “You needn’t worry, Y/N. Princess Rhaenyra simply wished him a swift recovery, and invited him to King’s Landing to visit with King Viserys and to discuss matters of the Reach as soon as he was able to travel once more. I wish I had the letter to show you, but I believe father kept that for himself- the Princess complimented you greatly. I wish you could have seen the smile on his face as he read her words.”

The thought of your father’s smile due to humbling praises from Princess Rhaenyra brought a smile to your own face. You missed him. You missed home. But the visit with Derron would have to be enough, until a more suitable opportunity to return to Highgarden would appear.

“You mean to meet with the King later this week?” you asked, slightly confused. “Have you traveled here on Father’s behalf, then? Was there a matter so urgent that could not wait until he was able to travel here himself?”

“Yes… and no,” Derron. “All is as well as it can be in the Reach; the harvest has been as bountiful as we suspected it would be. But there was another, more pressing matter that required one of us to see to it immediately. Father decided it would be good practice for me to come and speak with the King about business while I was already in King’s Landing dealing with this other matter.”

The other matter must have been extremely pressing, if it had compelled your father to send Derron all the way to King’s Landing without so much as a raven’s notice. “Pray tell- what is this urgent matter you speak of?”

“That would involve the second raven Father received,” Derron pivoted. “Fortunately, I do have that letter in my possession. We both thought it might be best for you to see it for yourself.”

Your brother withdrew a rolled up piece of parchment from his coat, and handed it over to you. You took it with great intrigue, and immediately set about reading the tiny scrawlings littering the page.

“To Lord Larris Tyrell of Highgarden, Defender of the Marshes, Lord Paramount of the Reach, and Warden of the South:

I hope you are able to overlook my forwardness. I, Ser Harwin Strong, son of Lord Lyonnel Strong of Harrenhal, write to you regarding a most urgent matter of the mind and heart…”

You tore your eyes away from the page, and looked back up at your brother. The reassuring look on his face confirmed what you had suspected- your eyes were not deceiving you.

Ser Harwin had written to your father directly.

But what on earth for?!

“We received the raven with this message just a few days before I set out for King’s Landing. But I assure you, Father and I have discussed the contents of this letter at great length.”

You were almost too afraid to ask, but you found the courage to do so anyway. “What does this letter have to do with your visit?”

“If you would continue reading on, you shall see for yourself,” Derron encouraged you. “There are important conversations to be had with Ser Harwin Strong… as well as his father, Lord Lyonel. Such matters are far more appropriate to address in person, rather than by letter.”

Your eyes fell once more down to the parchment in your hands. “What matters could possibly require such attention?”

“... I can tell by your reaction that you have not spoken with Ser Harwin as of late,” your brother deduced. Didn’t last week count? “But that is of no matter. Now that I am here, we can all address it. Please, Y/N. Keep reading.”

“...

I would like to start by wishing you the quickest of recoveries.

I hope this letter reaches you in due time- I intend to discuss this subject with Lady Y/N in depth as soon as she allows me, and as soon as I muster up the courage to do so. I believe she is the one who deserves to learn of this matter first, and so that she may pass her judgment on it. But, on the advice of my father, out of respect for your great House, and out of respect to my own, I thought it wise to at least enlighten you about my intentions.

I apologize- I have never had the reputation for being a particularly eloquent man. But for this letter, I shall to be just that. I have only recently returned to King’s Landing from escorting Her Grace, the Princess Rhaenyra to my home, the Riverlands. Despite the tiredness I feel, the journey opened my eyes to a truth that I feel drawn to act upon at once.

My Lord, I have had the immense pleasure of sharing company with Lady Y/N since the Princess Rhaenyra recruited her to be of her service some time ago. Although I am sure you are aware, Lady Y/N is a great compliment to your house. Her kindness and charms are extended warmly to all, from the royal family to the poor of King’s Landing. Her wit entertains all who are blessed with her conversation, and her tenacity to succeed in an environment without the support of her family, who she clearly loves so dearly, has been nothing short of inspiring- even to a ‘brute’ such as myself.

All of this, when combined with the mere passage of time, and counsel from Princess Rhaenyra herself throughout our recent travels, has led to me to face one conclusion that I have been blind to for some time.

I have become completely captivated by Lady Y/N.

…”

Derron’s next words nearly fell upon deaf ears as you spaced out, torn between continuing your enthralled reading of the letter in your hands, and seeking clarification to the many questions that had been raised by it.

“It would seem,” your brother said wistfully, “That I am here to discuss the terms of your courtship, and inevitable betrothal, to Ser Harwin Strong.”

You were astonished.

“But before I can do that, I must know… Is this what you truly want?”

Part 3, “Storms,” can be read HERE.

A/N: Thank you for reading!🖤

Please feel free to let me know if you wish to be added to the taglist for any future parts. I apologize sincerely if I’ve missed anyone- please let me know if that’s the case! I tried to tag everyone from the first part who requested it, as well as some people who left comments on reblogs, but please do not hesitate to let me know if I missed anyone, or if you are on the taglist currently but wish to be removed.

TAGLIST: @whitetigerlover17 @littlebirdgot @strawbbyjamb @te5s3ract @landofdreamsworld @nerdboylover @piper570 @ephemeralninon @linkpk88 @green--beanie @kaygilles @hippzella @wicked-hg @thatgaytevinter @nowheredreamer @ateliefloresdaprimavera @queenofterrasen418 @saintspector @thebigbadbatswife @blazinglioness @itevilhag @chlo-feigh

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rel124c41 · 3 months

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DESTROYING ANGELS. jade leech

It screams in your head. A siren. An eagle. A sick, diseased, morbid raven yelling and yelling: housewarden, housewarden, housewarden, it caws at you. With Vil Schoenheit's third year coming to an end, you hold the ambition to become housewarden, if even only for a measly year.

But when struck with the visage of Vil's overblot, you doubt your efforts and turn to a deal with a truly odious individual.

tags: rival relationship, blood and injury, mental breakdown, developing relationship, poisoning, pomefiore (twst), gentle kissing, happy valentine’s day!!

word count: 24,883

For what was an immeasurable time, you again scrubbed the fifteen second clip back to the beginning. At this point, Si and Am — your dormmates — have already left the library to attend class. You told them you would catch up, but reflexively your thumb drags the red dot to the left. You said you would catch up perhaps five minutes ago.

As the clip starts, you watch it like it has pierced both your eyes with hooks and is cranking you back into the boat. You have to watch it again and again, pause at mark 00:05, mark 00:13, mark 00:10. And it is not even enjoyable.

You are transfixed like someone watches a person burning in the backyard get-together, morbidly interested yet disconnectedly anguished.

The quality is mediocre at best. The recorder, one of the dwarf children or a random attendant, had a faulty grip on his phone. Perhaps, you should give them some credit. Running for your life would make a video appear blurry as found footage films, but … you scrub back to the beginning, Sevens couldn’t they have just stood still for a fucking second!

The grip around your phone tightens immensely and your case crackles. At this point, the screams and pleads on the loop are like trickling sand. You hold your thumb by the pause button, waiting and waiting until there!

Instantly, your glumness vanishes. Your eyes break the limits of human anatomy and widen even further to soak in all of the image. You screenshot it six times.

On your phone is the countenance of Vil Schoenheit in his overblot form. Black lips open wide into a yelling shout. The lace and insignia of blot indented onto crystal white skin. Golden peacock feathers cutting into the sky and forming Mary’s halo around his head. And most importantly, the symbol of every overblot, wisps of violet curling and pulsing off the campfire that is Vil’s fiery eye. The only recorded video of your housewarden’s overblot saved onto your phone after pulling so many strings and calling up so many connections.

And you should be happy; you have that image; you could do whatever you please with it and ruin Vil Schoenheit. But, gathering up your paperwork, all you feel is envious.

Storming out the library, you mourn that if you overblot, it will never be as magnificent as the one your housewarden has achieved.

You are not as skilled in cloak and dagger activities as your vice-housewarden is. Those observation skills of yours left something to be desired. Plus, your lack of companionship did not stem from a need for secrecy (like many other students) but rather a practical desire to complete your goal. Being isolated should have left you with plenty of time to practice espionage-esque skills. You guess you have wrongly judged that you were at least subtle in your staring, because as you go to tap Jade Leech on his shoulder, both of you walking down the hallways, he says without even turning his back, “twenty-seven.”

You quickly withdraw your finger from the space inches near his shoulder as if an animal you were petting had opened its maw. You shrink back as Jade Leech stops in the middle of flowing school traffic and turns around. The impression he cuts through the current is odious. “I’m sorry?”

“You have stared at me this week on twenty-seven different occasions. I was wondering if you were going to reach thirty before you said anything to me.”

His smile is odious too. Ah, how terrifying he is to look at. You deflate at his words then attempt to puff right back up again. All that false confidence you had been building up this whole week was meant for this, “I was hoping that I could trouble you for setting up a meeting with housewarden Ashengrotto. At his earliest convenience?”

“I see,” Jade Leech says, reaching a gloved hand up to his chin. “But would it not be more optimizing if you were to come directly to Azul with this. Of course, I can pass on the word to him.”

Okay, this is it. As a last ditch intimidation method, your instincts make you stand up straighter. You spent all week preparing for this. Be honest; Jade Leech will never reveal his hand but as the applicant, you will need to reveal yours. And you know this conversation will not reach housewarden Ashengrotto if it does not manage to interest his vice-housewarden.

“Because the deal I want doesn’t involve Azul; it's a deal between both me and you.”

You find yourself in the VIP room before the day is out.

You are almost dizzy with the speed that things were commencing. Stress had been intimately stitched into your uniform as you spent the last week. A week spent staring at Jade Leech – apparently twenty-seven times – and trying to deduct how to talk to him. The same day you approach is the same day you get into Ashengrotto’s office. Yes, you certainly feel whiplashed by the turn of events.

The lilac straw in your mouth has definitely known kinder customers. Halfway done with the sunset-hued drink Floyd Leech presented you with, you occupy yourself with gnawing on the straw. You need a way to relax and were appreciative of the drink. It is a good drink, a mixture of pineapple and orange juice with grenadine. Nothing else, though you had tasted around for a hint of any poison, and you were good at –

“(Name),” Azul says and you quickly set down your drink. “I was told this was an imperative matter, so I am wholly interested in how Octavinelle can provide for you. After all, I don’t believe you have ever graced Mostro Lounge with your presence before.”

You narrow your eyes slightly at the orange foam in your glass. Why did he make it sound like you kept him waiting? When you were the one waiting for twenty minutes at least as he did paperwork, trying to avoid eye contact with the Leech twins seated across from you. Forget it, do not be intimidated. Looking up, you puff your throat and start.

“Housewarden Ashengrotto, I want to make a contract with you. I–”

“Well, yes, most individuals at Night Raven College do. However, Jade informed me this was a matter that did not involve myself.” Azul is still busying himself with shuffling papers as if you are an impediment.

“The contract,” you swallow hard. “The contract would not involve me and you. I require nothing from you except a contract that would ensure that both me and the other signer will provide the agreed upon terms. It would involve Jade Leech and myself.”

You receive no response from Azul. He is scribbling on a paper with his fishbone pen. You send a quick glance across the table to the twins – bad idea, you quickly turn back to Azul who is peering at you bored over his glasses. Your words are not entertaining enough. “I want to know if this type of contract is possible with your signature spell before I reveal my hand.”

“Dear, anything is possible with the Sea Witch’s spirit of benevolence. But, you are the applicant here and I am no mind reader. So, please, indulge my ears and tell me your worries, your struggles, and your troubles.” He waves one hand in a gesturing stroke then returns to writing.

“In exchange for what I’m asking, I’ll offer you my life and freedom, my possessions, and all my magic.”

The VIP room’s atmosphere shifts at your words. The bubble of indifference is pricked with a needle. Fishbone pen clattering, Azul snaps his head up to you so fast that his glasses tilt on his face. Cool cerulean eyes brim up with a destructive interest. In the corner of your vision, Floyd’s restful shoes suddenly slip off the glass table and are replaced by his slamming hands. Underneath the glass, three koi fish swam agitated at the weight. The courteous smile has slipped off Jade’s features and he is staring at you. Are his eyes glowing? No matter, his already perfect posture has already begun to straighten more.

You pick up the glass that Floyd had rattled and sip the drink. The knowledge that you had definitely secured the usage of Azul’s signature spell sends a warmth through you that you need to cool with an orange, iced beverage.

“HAHAHAHA,” Floyd shrieks excitedly. “Pufferfishy is so exciting! Aren’t they, Jade!” Jade mumbles his agreement that this is quite unexpected as his twin continues laughing, thoroughly amused.

When you reach the bottom of your foamy drink, Azul is done fixing his glasses. “Well, that is certainly unexpected collateral. Are you perhaps desperate, (Name)? Such heavy words.” But he is already summoning a contract in his right hand. Golden luster drips off and shadows him a canary yellow gleam. He starts to scribble on that instead.

“I am not desperate,” you state. It is a true statement. Despite what your collateral is, not an ounce of this is desperation, despite everything an outsider might believe.

“An-And what would you require from Jade,” Azul asks, his hand rapid with his writing. His voice makes you inclined to believe Azul would be willing to sell Jade Leech for anything you had to ask for. Good, you think, you need to make them more willing to your whims than vice versa. You start to describe what you want from this contract.

“I need someone, not from Pomefiore, who still possesses knowledge of poison. My options were five students from Octavinelle and Scarabia who excelled in potionology, Jade Leech was one of them. If I picked any of the other four, they could have easily betrayed me or sold my research. Jade Leech has both a knowledge of fungi poisons and oceanic poisons with a minimal understanding on land and magic poisons too. Divus Crewel even sings his praise.

“To become Pomefiore’s housewarden, I need to make the most potent poison. I need to win this upcoming summer exam above all else. Working with someone from Pomefiore could compromise me. I am leagues ahead of my peers but,” but I even fall into self doubt “but even I know when I am running into a deadend, of sorts. I need another pair of eyes to help me find that exit.

“If Jade Leech is willing to help me both make and test a variety of poison, then I will sign this contract. If I fail to become Pomefiore’s housewarden, then I forfeit my entire life to anyone in this room. My magic and all my servitude is one of yours.”

There is it, terms laid out plainly. You silently watch the way the trio reacts to this information. Really, you try to focus your attention on Jade without losing eye contact with Azul. His interest is definitely piqued. If something catches the eel-mer’s scrutiny, he is sure to go into it wholeheartedly, yes? You wish you could read people better, it has never been your speciality.

“Such a streep price. Your entire life?” A dangerous firecracker glint passes over Azul’s eyewear. “Perhaps, I can have you working for Mostro Lounge indefinitely. After all, the Octavinelle dorm is where you originally belo-”

“Don’t. Don’t bring that up.”

He is not sorry but still says, “Of course, my apologies. So, the assistance of my vice-housewarden is what you desire, dear student. Well, I cannot help but ask Jade what he thinks of this arrangement.”

“Wait. I want to add a clause to this contract.” Surprise molds Azul’s lips in a pout, but he still tells you to continue. “If I feel – for any reason – that Jade is becoming an obstacle to me becoming Pomefoire’s housewarden, I can invoke a rescission of the contract. And the other party will need to accept that.”

Azul’s face starts to mold like prodded clay at your verbal addendum. His eagerness is ruefully gone from his motions. Octavinelle’s housewarden gains control of himself and starts to realize he will need to actually negotiate. You are not as easy to blindside as others. He spits out two sentences as if they are tar in his mouth. “A clause that would terminate the contract, hm? And all under your jurisdiction.”

“Well, that simply won’t do,” Jade says and you finally get to look at him. You meant what you said earlier, he is terrifying to look at. There is always something wolfish in his features, perhaps his eyes or teeth, but he always looks eager to tear everything apart if given the order. A thudding and pounding box with a thousand belts and locks twined around it. That is the only image you can compare his guise to.

“What if I am benevolently doing all I can to help you complete your poison? Providing my knowledge on both fungi and oceanic poisons. Yet,” his eyes shimmer here “your shortcomings are making you fail. I can only aid so much. Or what if you come to regret this contact and purposefully try to fail? You would be wasting my time.”

You puff and challenge back, “And what if you are not being so benevolent, Leech? What if you are trying to sabotage me at every turn so I do not become a housewarden? I need to plan for every angle and make sure I am not vulnerable.”

“So little trust. Do you really think me so villainous, little Pufferfish?”

“The very thought of me purposely sabotaging myself is ludicrous. The thought of you pulling subtle strings is not so far-fetched. I have offered too gracious a price on my end.”

“Yet, all the same, here you are offering it. Are you sure you do not wish to retract what you said about being desperate?”

“A desperate person would never add a clause.”

“Perhaps, this is true but –”

“You two, enough of this banter,” Azul cuts in.

Huh? You were not bantering. You were discussing contract terms. The back of your neck grows hot as Jade smirks, just a few feet from you, separated by koi fish and table legs. Neither of you noticed that you were leaning into each other, biting, until Azul stopped the argument. Still, “my apologies, housewarden Ashengrotto,” you should always remain on a housewarden’s good side as a student at Night Raven College – that was one of your philosophies.

“Jade is right. You could dip out of this contact all under the guise that Jade is halting your progress when it is really you have reached the limits of your ability. Not that I doubt your ability, but human nature requires failure.”

You weigh all of this. Getting this clause added onto the contract was never going to be easy, this you anticipated. The allurement of forfeiting your life was what you had originally hoped would entice them. Maybe you spoke in the wrong order, said too little or said too much. Still, you were here and needed to find a way to cement this clause’s spot on that golden contract.

You glance at your empty glass … perhaps you should, no perish the thought. Intimidation is sure to never work in the Octavinelle dorm and you will surely be thrown out.

“Trust. You said I had little of it. That is true; I have little trust for anyone truly, Leech.” You stare down at the swimming koi fish. Turning to Azul, “If I tell Jade the reason that he is an obstacle to me, and he agrees, then I would like our contract terminated. Ultimately, Jade Leech would be in charge if I choose to end our arrangement.”

A little bit of your free-will; you calculate that you can afford to lose a little bit of that. As far as you were concerned, you could trust Azul Ashengrotto and Jade Leech as far as you could throw them. As soon as you were out of their sight, they would be conspiring to find a way to ensure your failure. However, with a more trained mind when it comes to poison, you should be able to safely squeeze what you need from that slippery eel.

“My, such an angry expression. Do you really trust us so little?” Slippery eel, slippery eel, slippery eel.

Azul smiles as he waves his magic pen over the contract, words shifting to his whim. “Do try to not look so constipated, dear. It’s a bad look. Perhaps, Octavinelle can teach you to conceal your emotions if you need assistance there too.”

With a bit of heat on your neck, you do your best to school your expressions. Your features just leap back to revealing your mind, shock overtaking at Azul’s next words. “Oh, and I will be adding my own clause that Jade will have to assist you benevolently or the contract will find itself void.”

One last time, the entire VIP room’s atmosphere shifts. Shock has already started to color the two eel-mers’ expressions. Floyd leans over his brother's shoulder and lets out an annoyed, “huuuh?” Jade, trying to keep his polite façade, has placed a hand upon his heart. His mouth is twitching and you envision one of those belts or locks around his convulsing box exploding off. “Azul –” Jade starts but Floyd ends, “Azul, that’s totally unfair.”

Honestly, it is the most fair part of the contract, but you keep your mouth shut, worried that you could get the clause removed with the wrong words. Then comes the devastating part. Azul, who has seemingly finished the contract, stands up from his desk.

“Come now, after November, we all promised to be more accommodating in our contracts. We have to do our duty to uphold the virtues of the Sea Witch such as (Name) here will uphold the unrelenting efforts of the Beautiful Queen.

“However, benevolence is subjective person to person. Of course, the clause will be dependent on what Jade considers benevolent. His definition of it might be different from mine, his brother, or your own. But it will still be there,” here, he places the contract in your hand, paper feeling like a dumbbell “a safety net for you to use in your judgment, if needed.

“You’ve always been interesting. Thus, we all do expect great things from you. One way or another.”

If you were not in competition for the spot of Pomefiore's housewarden, your strong affection for chemicals, venomous things, and poison would have been concerning — to say the least.

At least that was what Jade deducts, watching you whip around the private lab in Pomefiore’s dorm. He had observed you in Crewel’s class and botanical gardens. This you is on another level of enthusiasm. Plucking all the supplies you need from storage, you are ablaze with a passion that almost seems to swallow up your entire being.

Passion can intimidate others. Jade knew for himself as his relationship with mushrooms did cause a few shudders, and Azul and Floyd were sadly unenthusiastic to share in it. You know all the cracks in the floor, all the loose cabinet shelves, and all the chipped flasks to avoid that an inexperienced student might pick up and use. Observing this, Jade thinks your fiery strides must be equal to his when he is able to embark on his hikes. Fluorescent energy beating hard under skin. How truly entertaining.

Supplies cradled to your chest, you scramble over the table and start to place your third trip of supplies down one by one. Jade sits patiently. Too engrossed in your element, you had avoided conversing besides telling him joyful, when you two entered, that one rarely gets to see Pomefiore’s lab without being enrolled in the dorm. Since then, unfortunately your attention has been away from him.

This contract better not be going to waste.

Bunsen burner, two volumetric flasks, heavy duty gloves. Once done setting them down, you start gliding away, stars in your eyes, to go pick up more things. Jade sends a spectacle look to the supplies. Will you cover every inch of the table with tools?

As you lean down into a cabinet, Jade calls out, “So, enlighten me on what the requirements our poison must meet. There must be rules that I am unaware of.”

You puff up. Bewildered eyes met his gentlemanly gaze. He resists the chuckle in his throat; did you perhaps forget that he was here, waiting for you? Shaking off your confusion, you straighten your posture and start speaking like a professor giving their favorite lecture.

“To become the housewarden of Pomefiore, one must be able to create the most potent poison among their peers. It is graded upon presentation, name, and the effectiveness of the poison. The poison can be presented in a variety of forms: food, liquid, a smear-like jam, a breathable substance, a cosmetic item, etcetera.”

You recite this as if you are reciting your full name for an interview, as if it is something you have known since birth. The passion in your voice is firm. “But to me, all of that is meaningless.”

Jade’s eyebrow twitches up at this. “Meaningless? Then why sign a contract?”

“No, not meaningless. It is all,” you snap your fingers, searching for a word. “It is unimportant because I will be creating a poison that can stop an elephant or dragon’s heart in a second. Presentation, name, who needs it. We should focus on the effectiveness, nothing else.”

Finally locating what you needed from the cabinet, you stand up with it huddled to your chest. A large jar with a sloshing black liquid inside. You unclip your magestone from your breast pocket.

Accelerating towards Jade is another lab table that collides with one he is already seated at. He blinks once in shock and then folds all his other thoughts into the crisper of his cold mind. Disappointment iced over him. Turning, Jade is met with a grin quite like his own when scheming.

Oh!

Gratitude fills his mind, dethawing his previous frost.

He knew that canceling the meetings from yesterday to get you into the VIP room would be worth it. Even if Azul did try to stab back at Jade by making him promise that he would act benevolent, you would be worth it.

Besides, isn’t he always on his best behavior?

Matching your expression, Jade says, “A poison that can kill a dragon?”

Jade had yet to attend one of these exams for becoming Pomefiore’s housewarden. They were hosted in the auditorium and a professor used simulacrum spells to conjure up creatures at the student’s request. Truthfully, Jade had been uninterested because you were not attending.

Your first year you made it stone clear what your goal was and pivoted away from distractions (friends). Despite your goal, you did not attend last year’s summer exam. You know that you did not attend because you were aware no one was going to beat your current housewarden. Jade thinks it was because you had given up. But, right now, he is glad you have not grown so boring after two years of observing.

“The record for poisoning a fabricated dragon is two weeks. That was set by Professor Crewel his first year, yes? How much do you plan to cut that record by? Three days or two days?”

“I hope the poison will claim its life by the fifty-nine minute mark.”

Huh? “Surely, you are exaggerating.”

You give no verbal answer, wearing such a wicked grin. You wave your magestone in a diagonal cut. On the lab table that had joined yours, multiple bottles string up like flowers or mushrooms. Seven … no, nine bottles, all labeled with a skull with a tiny halo over its head.

“No. I am a Pomefiore student. I will always strive to be the best of the best.”

Sevens, you are electrifying. Your energy billows up like a balloon, pushing at the latex and straining to pop. All that static and shocking was enticing to watch. Up close though? It seems to Jade that he will get burned if he does not navigate you carefully and that lovely risk is everything to him.

“Now then,” you clap and interrupt Jade’s train of thought, taking your seat beside him. “I am versed in flowers and chemicals. Mushrooms and toxicities in the sea, I know the basics … That’s where you come and benevolently assist me.”

Despite your grimace at asking for assistance, you are fixated on the eel-mer, waiting to eagerly absorb information. Jade, whose atypical interests were rarely seen as interesting, grows a bit warm at the intense look you are directing towards him.

“Well, I suppose I should give you what you want. As per contractual agreement.” Jade unclips his magic pen from his breast-pocket.

With a flourish of his own magestone, three terrariums neatly stack in the empty space in front of you two. “Pick one.”

You study them all individually and then compare them too. At bottom, brown mushrooms with ringlets of soft white poking through like stretch-marks or slicing scars. A little intriguing but not as much as the middle. Bright orange mushrooms, thin like chips or leaves, are piled onto each other and rest on wet pieces of tree bark. Those are a beauty but ultimately you go with ones in the top terrarium.

Their look is wholly boring and uninteresting. Dull olive green caps and shaped like the typical mushroom is, they intrigue you. There is something so energizing about being near poisons. However, there is something life-changing about sinking your teeth into a cocoon of masquerading innocence, only for the bitter taste of something dangerous to pierce your tongue.

You turn to Jade, Monsieur Mastermind as your vice-housewarden calls him, and point to the top terrarium. “What are these ones?”

“These ones actually cause the majority of poisonings in Twisted Wonderland.” With a wave, the other two terrariums disappear. Jade leans in to lift off the lid, explaining, “They’re called amanitas due to the shape. But the translated names are death cap, death angel, or destroying angels.” He pulls one out, not the smallest of the bunch but the largest either.

“Destroying angels are naturally deceitful. They appear like the common mushroom, the same color and shape. The indicator is the vulva. Other than that, they hide in plain sight and kill those not careful enough to understand them. There is such beauty in that … a dull appearance hiding such violent intentions.”

You cannot help but agree vehemently with him, nodding along. All of his entire explanation felt like it related more to simple mushrooms. It was like a principle of attraction in life.

You look at the remaining ones in the terrarium and ask, “the side effects?”

“First, stomach cramps, loose bowels, and vomiting. Next, it might damage the liver and kidney to irreversible measures. Lastly, cell death or damage of the central nervous system.”

“Amatoxin poisoning. That can kill a person in only two days.”

“Just twenty-one milligrams of amatoxin in the body is fatal. That is perhaps,” Jade suddenly leans into his terrarium and grabs the second smallest, “the amount found in a small one like this. Three bites and you’re facing Death.”

You are exhilarated at the information, staring at the two destroying angels pinched in Jade’s gloved hands. Do they seep through the pie crust of skin, you wonder excitedly. “Are these the deadliest ones in your collection?”

“If I’m comparing a single species to another single species, then yes. Destroying angels alone are more poisonous than any others I know.”

“Good. We start with this one.” You cast a look over to the porcelain bottles. All nine of your prototypes for what you wanted to use in the summer exam sitting neatly there. “There is a variety to test and so little time. And if amatoxin will enhance,” you start to ramble off, mumbles that Jade’s hearing cannot pick up. Suddenly, you are grabbing from the stack of papers and scribbling. Once more, you have completely forgotten Jade is here with you. Though it is nice to watch the crackles of fire alit from you, the Leech brother would rather have your attention.

He leans in, nose almost brushing your shoulder. Still enraptured with your work, it seems.

Jade is a little unsure if this will work. Nicknames are his twin’s territory but he did know that you get disgruntled when hearing the nickname. Probably only because it came from an Octavinelle student, people you did not want to grow close to. But no matter because Jade is growing awfully close to you. Once that distance is closed, he says far too loudly, “Pufferfish.”

You leap and drop your pencil. Huffing and puffing, you turn in your seat. An accusatory glare and scowl battles with Jade’s smile.

“You seem to have forgotten our contract involves collaboration, Pufferfish. You did read it thoroughly, yes?”

You send a glance down to your paper, bewildered by the sight of it. And surprisingly your mouth opens and says …

“Sorry. Don’t usually collaborate.” You magic his chair to slide closer to you. “Ok, so here’s what I’m thinking …”

The past two weeks had been stressful yet eye-opening too. You had been learning a lot more about poisonous mushrooms and toxins in the Coral Sea that you would not typically interact with. However, while making progress, a sapling of doubt was growing inside you. All watered and photosynthesized by one slippery eel. The allusions about betrayal, his sly, ensconcing grins, and every action seemed to have a double meaning or price to pay for later: all of Jade Leech’s personality was driving you nuts!

The worst was when he would say something bone-chilling and dismiss it: “But that is an event we would not want to happen, yes?” or “But I would never say that, surely not I.” or “I simply jest. This would not be in my benevolent interests.” Every sentence seemed to tear you apart mentally.

Apparently, he was doing this because of your defensive action. Apparently, you puffed when he said things like that. You moved as if you were blowing up with invisible spikes, defending yourself and your barracks with a prickly attitude. He had also taken to calling you that nickname that Floyd had for you. You asked him about it a week ago.

“Aren’t fish related nicknames your twin’s thing?”

“Yes, but it annoys you so I would like to join in.”

You gave him a disgruntled hum and continued working.

A few mind-games were not going to discourage you after signing such an important contract, Jade had proven to be useful in expanding your knowledge. You would weather his little tricks and sinister smiles – no matter how much they made your skin crawl with suspicion.

You almost want to test his resolve, test if you can out disturb him. He had words and you had actions. Besides, you cannot ask either Si or Am this question. You were planning to pick those twins to work as your vice-housewarden. If they knew how attracted you were to the image of an overblot, a taboo subject, you might not have a vice-housewarden next year. So, as you two are fiddling with the measurements and burning liquids and powders, you ask Jade:

“When Ashengrotto overblotted, what were your and Floyd’s thoughts?”

It is one of those out of the blues questions. Still, you are still surprised by how Jade manages to keep his composure, hand stilling for no longer than three seconds. A slippery centipede of white teeth crawls on his face, amused, but he keeps his focus on the powder he is pouring.

“When Azul overblotted,” he mused. “Well, I thought what a foolish thing to do. Truly, he should have known better to lose control like that. Floyd was very disappointed in his lack of composure. We expected better of our housewarden.

“Why ask?”

Of course you and Jade would look at overblots and feel different. You two were on two separate planets, labeled Octavinelle and Pomefiore, thus you would never see eye to eye. You hid a scowl behind your hand, stirring your mixture.

“In Pomefiore, you’re expected to have a taste for beautiful art – to create art, be it craft or performance – not that you yourself are beautiful. When Schoenheit overblotted, there was something hypotonic about it. Eldritch beauty. I’ve never seen anything so gorgeous.”

“Were you there when it happened?”

“No. I managed to pick up a video recording of it after numerous favors were given out. It’s so grainy but even still, you can tell he was perfect at that moment. You felt no awe for Ashengrotto?”

“Mermaid forms are sometimes hypotonic to humans and the like. But Azul’s overblot was simply himself but unraveled and foible. It was just not all that stunning to me.”

“They have this saying about art and beauty,” you cannot help yourself from speaking. “Art should disturb the comfortable and comfort the disturbed.”

“Hm, I can see the appeal. Humans always have such odd little sayings,” Jade muses. And that is the end of that conversation.

Beauty is an important value of Pomefiore; there is no denying that. Magic Mirror on the wall, who is the fairest one of all? But beauty is a volatile word as it is so deeply subjective. And fighting prejudices itself is a big Pomefiore value! However … you twist your pencil in hand, forlornly studying Jade.

You are positive that he knows you are studying him. He simply waits patiently to see if you can entertain him more.

If you reveal this to him, the entirety of Night Raven College might know by the end of the week. Not that you keep it hidden for your own vanity. Though, Vil Schoenheit had strict requirements on what beauty is … If you are to reveal this and Schoenheit finds out, can he disqualify you on the basis that you are too disfigured to be housewarden?

Truly, you have no vanity but to jeopardize your goal. The hand wrapped around your wrist tightens until your bones start to ache. You absolutely cannot jeopardize yourself or risk being disqualified from attending the exam.

But, then again, your vice-housewarden found beauty in everything. If this spread to all of Night Raven College (if Jade revealed it because it would provide him entertainment), Hunt would at least be a voice in Schonheit’s ear, praising your dedication that ran skin deep. You did have some cushioning there. Ok, you were going to do it.

You shrug off the heavy black jacket and start unbuttoning your vest. Jade does not say a word, watching. You let these two articles of clothing drop to the nubs of your stool. You continue by unbuttoning your white collared shirt.

“If you are hoping to get something more physical from our relationship, you should disclose that information in our contract. No matter how embarrassing it might’ve been to discuss it in front of Azul.”

The sides of his lips pull up in a razor-sharp smile. You puff and continue stripping.

“Don’t flatter yourself. All of this is still in pursuit of me being housewarden. There is no need for you to even touch me”

“Oya, then may I employ the reason for you und–” You interrupt him by slamming your dominant arm down on the table. His eyes fall to your mummified arm. A coil of white bandages serpents from the third inch of your wrist to the end of your deltoid, a few inches off from your black tank top. A spark jumps to Jade’s eyes as if someone struck together two rocks. “Oh, what is this?”

“Have much gore can you handle? Be honest.”

That question seems to really add some intensity to his eyes because he moves them off your arm and stares at you. His still lips start twitching up again. “Now, why would an innocent thing like you ask someone like me that?”

“The last time anyone saw this, they threw up on my dorm’s floor. Stop being such a smart-ass, Leech.”

His eyes are like suns. “I have seen things in the Coral Sea that would make you throw up, Pufferfish.”

Good. You move your index and middle finger under where the top bandage is tucked. However, your nose starts to crinkle as you sit there contemplating. Risks are still uncalculated; you have yet to map out every angle at which this could benefit or ruin you. If Schonheit finds out … No, this is in pursuit of making the best poison, no one can fault you for ambition. You start to unfurl your bandages.

To be honest, a demented part of you is excited to see the reaction that notoriously spooky and eldritch Jade Leech will have. So as your hand circles and twists, you watch the sharp profile that watches your hand.

Masking raw emotions behind a tiny, sinister smile is a trait that Jade has mastered. People jump at loud noises, Jade does not even flinch. His body is alarmingly disconnected from the kingdom of his mind.

Enviously, you watch as his features thoroughly remain schooled to neutrality and reveal nothing of his thoughts. Inch by inch, more of your arm you reveal. His mismatched eyes are certainly analyzing, shifting, and evaluating but nothing is truly revealed in his face. The only flicker of discomfort you see is when he swallows hard. His throat bobs slightly when the bandages around your shoulder loosen up. But that could be a totally unrelated act of swallowing. Strangely, you admire his ability to keep an expression that can conceal a thousand more expressions.

Done unwrapping your arm, you begin to fold up the bandages in your hand. To be honest, you can admit that perhaps the lack of reaction is reasonable as your arm has surely looked worse before.

Multiple lacerations of varying degrees and depth climb up your arm. The orange-yellow fat of your upper arm is exposed in some areas like the backs of poisonous toads breaking through mud. A concave spot of burnt brachial muscle is oozing black-red again. Sometimes, your ring finger still twitches desperately from that wound; the nerves are similar to old chargers that need to be pinched and settled specifically to create charge.

Tooth white of your humerus bone plays peek-a-boo at you from the cave of maroon, peach, and black. You still have skin but it is a raw yellow tint from surface wounds or poison. However, there are barely three inches of real skin left clinging like desperate webs to your upper shoulder. Which might have earned you the motion of Jade’s throat rippling with a deep gulp.

No matter, it is healing up better than most days.

Cautious to not touch the steel table again (no matter how clean), you begin by trying to locate an island of skin to test. You are pulled from your exploration when a voice asks:

“How long have you been doing this?”

“Why? Worried about me?”

“Not particularly.”

“Ouch, that hurts my feelings, Leech.” You fake a frown until you finally can locate a patch of remaining skin. “Hand me our poison.” The vial is deposited between your non-dominant index and thumb.

Once the cap is off, you say. “My tenth birthday. Just some poison ivy on the path to my middle school. That set me in my ways. All because some teacher said to never touch leaves that look like those and I was curious as to the reason.”

“Floyd had a similar experience. Spotted trunkfish. They were so colorful that Floyd thought to ignore our parents' warning to never touch fish that looked like that. He grew quite sick after a lick.”

Well, that is certainly unexpected.

Not the story about Floyd. You could easily conjure up an image of him going to bite the leopard spotted skin of such a fish only to have a colorless toxin poison him. Yet, Jade actually revealing some information about himself — well, actually it is about his brother, so then information about their childhood – is strange for the tight-lipped twin. Perhaps he only told you so you can contemplate using trunkfish’s toxin at a later date.

Still. You cough a laugh into your elbow. Then, you rotate the arm for better access to unblemished skin.

“Adults avoid revealing necessary information like the plague. They never want to give the reason for why something shouldn’t be done.”

“Perhaps, they just want to see it done so they remain quiet.”

“Hm, perhaps. Everyone needs a bit of entertainment,” you mutter, administering altered fluorine. Is that perhaps the reason why Jade Leech is here; why he had gotten you into Azul’s office within an hour? Entertainment is a feasible reason. Silently, both of you watch the effects.

Sizzling skin, rashes, deep lacerations: all of this pain you were used to. Repetition of self experiment did eventually lead to sensory neurons quieting down and accepting the abuse. So as smoke starts to rise off your arm, Jade is surprised by the composure in your face.

Smoke rises in a tiny cloud before pretzel-ing itself into a little skull. The skull thuds once then twice in the air like a heartbeat. Breaking apart, it leaves as acid starts to tunnel down into your flesh. You remain still, watching with a clenched fist.

Acid digs and digs, past the numerous layers of skin and fat. You wrap a protective ward around the intricate, branching neuron system. Like a growing virus in a petri dish, you watch the acid start to jump from fat to fat from muscle to muscle, licking at all the surrounding areas.

Good to see that it spreads instead of tunneling. An essential aspect to chart about each poison.

Finally, it reaches the bone like you were hoping. Absorbed fluorine can bond with calcium cells. If the spells and chemicals added work, this administered fluorine should bond through touch alone.

Close and close it inches until — “Ah, I thought I would find you here, (Name).”

Jade, alert, turns even though he was not addressed. Ah, it is one of those twins that always tails after you like imprinted kittens. He cannot tell where it is Si or it is Am. Curious, Jade turns to look at you for the answer which twin he is dealing with before a usually concealed emotion passes over his face.

Surprise.

You grip your magestone like you are afraid that it will run away. Residues of a spell fall over in lilac sparkles. Yet, the most surprising part to Jade is that you are fully redressed, every article of clothes summoned back to their neat place. Even the snake of bandages you had removed are spiraled back on your arm, concealed under layers of the Night Raven College uniform.

“Hi Si,” you smile like nothing is unusual. “You were looking for me?”

“Yeah, Vil is making everyone in the dorm attend this etiquette class tonight. Some of us were sent to collect anyone who was out of the dorm. I lose rock-paper-scissors against Am.”

Etiquette class? A fucking etiquette class? When you become a housewarden, you would never call your dorm students to do such a frivolous activity like learning how to distinguish types of spoons. Schoenheit had everything you wanted and was wasting it. You, on the other hand, would push your dorm students in meaningful ways – by making them study poisons and work towards creating lethal injections.

“Ah I see. Just let me,” you shift up from your chair. With a startling speed, you vanish all of your supplies from the table. Almost as if you are trying to hide … before Jade can continue thinking on that thought, you say, “Next time, call me.”

“Yeah, I know but,” Si’s eyes flicker over to Jade. “Next time, ok? I’ll make sure to call next time.”

“Thank you.” You pocket your pen as Jade stands. Giving him a once over, you say, “Next time for us too? I’ll see you on Monday.”

“Yes, see you then.” You nod gratefully and start to walk away with Si. Stupid etiquette class. Underneath your bandages, you are acutely aware of the working poison that you cannot visually study. It slithers and crawls over the maroon meat in your arm. There is an insectoid itch to just rip off the bandages just to see – fuck Schoenheit, you knew what a salad fork was! “Oh, and Pufferfish?”

“Yeah?” You turn.

You are startled by how close he is leaning to you. His mismatched eyes are burning intensely like stars and his smile is moonlight. He rests one bare (when did he take off his gloves?) hand to your neck, rubbing a thumb to the skin laying like a pie-crust sheet over your voicebox. “Thank you for your vulnerability.”

The itch stops as does your footfall. Raw prickling sensation is washed over and replaced by something much stronger. The pumping, panicking flood of your heart.

Sevens, were you going to regret that? Metaphorically, you just pulled down the collar of your dress shirt to a cannibal. Oh, this is not a good investment. You give a quick nod to Jade and flee, with Si close behind, giving you a curious look. As you learn meaningless dining etiquette and posture, that sentence stays with you.

Lying in bed that night, you imagine the sensation is a half-baked dream that comes to you as you fall into sleep. A bubble of blot floating to the surface of your pen.

Mint foam falls out of your mouth in surprise. “Wh-what!” You snatch up your magic pen. No bigger than a facial mole, a speck of blot has dirtied up your magestone. Frantically, you rub your thumb over the mark. Don’t panic. It could be from a stain from your inked papers or perhaps rubbed eraser bits sticking to the surface. You scrub harder at the unrelenting mark.

“Shit shit shit,” you moan as you rush into the bathroom to spit out your toothpaste. “No, no, no,” you bemoan louder when you dip your magestone under the water and the mark remains, a tiny lemur-like pupil staring at you. Sevens, what are you to do now!

The world seems to tilt as you rest your head on the chilled faucet. Slowly, bit by bit, your anxiety begins to pluck your mind out of your ear like it is bad stuffing that was put into a toy wrong. You feel like you are losing your mind.

A trembling hand reaches out to retrieve your violet towelette off the rack, scrubbing the mint off your lips. Senselessly, you stuff the rag stuffed in your mouth. Holding it there, feeling the soft fiber filaments brushing your tongue and gums. With pained abandon, you scream into the soft fabric. You slam the rag down when your caterwauling is finished.

Overblotting? You cannot overblot when you have so much ahead of you. Unconsciously, your body slides down to the corner of the bathroom like a defeated sticky hand falling into a heavy heap of lint and dirt, feeling muddled and disgusted.

A fire erupts on your skin, shoulders and above, roasting your thoughts. It takes an hour to calm yourself down. You ignore Si and Am when they come to collect you – not like they stay long. Sitting, knees tucked to your chest in your bathroom, you went through the motions. Your body refrains from crying, gritting teeth and gripping fingers are your only outlet for stress. Then, the embers reach your arms and smolder out in billowing smoke. Your consciousness slowly returns to you.

Pursue your goal to become Pomefoire’s housewarden. You realize as the fire dies that you had to keep doing what you had been doing all along. To avoid overblotting, you need to ground yourself with your goal. The dot of blot is so tiny! You criticize yourself for panicking so badly. Yet, when you go to pick yourself up in the physical sense, your fingers are still trembling.

The botanical gardens. The botanical gardens. You need to go there and calm down. You shove your magic pen in the pocket of your slacks instead of letting it be exposed to the world in your chest pocket. Despite picking yourself up mentally, you still walk like someone is in a daze. Just get to the botanical gardens and find something to experiment with. You go to imagine comforting oleanders or deathly nightshades but all you see are destroying angels. Tightening your teeth, you push open the lips of your dorm and exit on the tongue of your carpet.

You finally feel like you have returned to yourself when the smell of it all rushes to meet you. A scent that fills your veins and roots you. The tang of rich soil, the bite of fresh rain water, the kiss of flora. You could never be away from the land; this smell of earth would be devastatingly missed.

Inhaling deeply, you close the glass door and drift deeper in. There are no classroom activities in the impressive greenhouse until afternoon so you are cleared to explore. Speckled around the vast garden are a few students, studying for herbology, potionology, or something else. Hands sitting on your churning stomach, you make sure to drift around and away from them.

There is such a beauty in here that makes you grateful to be enrolled in Night Raven College. Carried on oily breezes, freckled sunlight enriches everything that it touches and magnifies their hues. It is a renaissance of vibrant childhood wonder from rich reds to popping purples. How gorgeous land is.

As you go, you gather a few yellow angel’s trumpets and blue larkspurs in your hands. You twine the stems one by one, ignoring how the larkspurs start to sizzle against the skin of your hands. An ugly rash will bloom on your palms in the morning. Still, you keep braiding stem by stem, trying to make a senseless pattern in your collection.

You are so intent on your braiding that you make one of the worst mistakes anyone can make in the botanical gardens and step on a lion’s tail. An agitated growl is all the warning you get. As quick as a frog, you jump up and narrowly miss the five claws that swiped where your ankles had been.

With a loud thump, your landing turns a few heads. “Hello, housewarden Kingscholar. Sorry for the disturbance.”

You frequented the botanical garden like an addicted gambler to a casino. You had come to learn everything about it, even Kingscholar’s napping habits and habits when he was not napping. You still remember the way your sock filled with blood your first year when you accidentally woke up Kingscholar.

As the grumbling lion rises up, a few leaves caught in his brown hair, you cast an apologetic smile down to him. Striking green eyes narrow at the sight of you. “Ah, (Name) (Last Name). The one who challenged the Dark Mirror themself.”

You roll your eyes at that as he has always greeted you that way. When were people going to drop that? No matter, you would prove them all foolish when you became a housewarden. Then, people would know you as that instead of capitalizing on something insignificant that happened forever ago.

Because when anyone mentions it, bile rises up to your throat.

“The shape of your soul is Octavinelle!”

You blink awestruck. Huh? You shift your eyes around the mirror chamber as if trying to locate the soul that the Dark Mirror is talking to. However, you know that he is addressing you as dread starts exploding in your chest in sharp bursts. That cannot possibly be right. Is it stuffy in here, the thought flickers over your brain as you try to steady your wild breathing.

The noises around you swallow you whole. Shuffling of polished shoes, the person behind you in line stepping up to take your place. Distance chatter of other students, theorizing on which dorm they will be sorted into. The sound of your — no, Octavinelle’s housewarden, some shark-mer, calling out your first and last name. All of it so loud and obnoxious. All of it is wrong. Your fists unclench and clench rapidly by your side. All of this idiotic noise is –

“You’re wrong!” You spit at the mirror, shattering the cacophony around you.

The student behind you comes to a grinding halt and everyone’s heads turn towards you. You care little, glaring up at the Dark Mirror, and shouting, “You made a mistake! Look at my soul again! You’ll know where I belong!”

Crowley pinches his golden talons up to the filigree metal resting over his nose, summoning up a deep, tired breath. There is always one student. Egotistically set in their ways, they believe they are granted a right to whatever dorm they please. Moving to medicate this ordeal, the Headmaster waves his hand and opens his mouth to speak.

“You!” You turn on him, glaring venomously. “Quiet!”

The ebony feathers on his shoulders seem to gain sentience and ruffle with agitation. Why you rude little thing — Crowley was not expecting the first expulsion to fall on Orientation but —

You fall into a bow, legs standing and head colliding with your knees. A cloak of murky green light falls over your figure. “I know the shape of my soul because it is mine and mine alone. I know that if you look at my soul again, you will realize your mistake. I will accept a beheading or euthanization if I am proven wrong.”

You turn your gaze up towards the mirror, “But even dying, I will be assured you are still in the wrong, Dark Mirror.”

Crowley, having stopped to listen, quickly regains himself. You have quite a little mouth on you, he thinks as he darts to grab you and expel you from his college. The Dark Mirror is unquestionable and omnipotent; you are nothing but an ant begging to not be stepped on. He makes it about halfway to you when —

“Stop.”

The Dark Mirror’s lips fall into a tight line once more. Somehow, the hue of green radiating from the capsule the mask is trapped in glows even brighter.

Crowley is shocked when he realizes the mirror is talking to him.

“I will grant the request of this student to re-read the shape of their soul. Step closer, child.”

You make no mistake this time in your approach. Perhaps anxiety had kept you tethered to a spot too far away from the Dark Mirror. Boldly, you place your dominant hand down upon the glass. People start once more murmuring but you are stone in your resolve. Let the Dark Mirror judge; let it feel past your fingers into the burnt and serrated flesh crawling up your arm; let it taste your dedication and know the shape of your soul.

It takes half of a far too long minute of calculating and reading before the Dark Mirror gives you your answer.

“The shape of your soul is Pomefiore!” You withdrew your hand.

And though it had mattered little to you, housewardens and vice-housewardens and professors and the group of students you shared a year with still talk about it: the only student who got the Dark Mirror to change their dorm. The one moment in Night Raven College history where the Dark Mirror made a mistake. You crinkle your nose at the lion.

“That story’s old history.” You puff and tighten your grip on your bouquet. Oh, the larkspurs are definitely going to leave a rash. “I don’t see why I need to have such a long, tedious nickname tied to such a boring event.”

“Truly self righteous, aren’t you, (Name)?”

“Well, it’s a mouthful, so I can’t see it sticking anyways.” You meddle with your flowers. “Besides, there are more interesting stories like Enma Yuuken. The Dark Mirror might be getting senile, putting me in the wrong dorm at first then the carriage carts a magicless student into our school.”

Pointed teeth smile at you. “Come on now. You? You criticizing the oh, so respectable Dark Mirror is unheard of. What pissed you off?”

“I love the Pomefoire dorm and this school, but I can admit when things are turning upside down.”

The enrollment of a magicless student, the mistakes that both the Dark Mirror and Crowley were making, … the multiple overblots. You try to ignore the weight in your pocket. Night Raven College had been having an unusual couple of years.

“Still, I thought you had an avoidance policy for Octavinelle? After the Dark Mirror tried to put you there.”

Oh, so that is why he brought up the incident with the Dark Mirror due to your relations with Octavinelle. As you stirred your flowers, you had been trying to figure out Kingscholar’s goal. Everyone in your year was at least aware of your hatred for Octavinelle. Working with Jade Leech, no matter how smart, he was still an Octavinelle student. You were not one for secrecy so yours and Jade’s mysterious relations had probably became the next grape on the vine.

Still, you could've only been seen interacting with him in the Pomefiore labs or the botanical garden as you avoided him in class. “He asked me for tutoring with potionology. Having Leech indebted to me is sure to be a plus when I become Pomefiore’s housewarden.”

“Is that so?” From his lounging pose, he suddenly strikes up. Jade is only five centimeters taller than him. Still, you feel more crushed like a rat in a cat’s paws under those emerald eyes than mismatched ones. Brunette hair billows around his angular face and starts to brush you when he leans in close. “Has scenting become part of tutoring now?”

Scenting? Did the lingering smell of certain poison stain your clothes? You always experimented with poisons whose smell lingered on your arm since before Orientation and no one said anything. Si and Am had been looking at you weird since a week ago, is it a cat thing?

You furrow your expression at the too close incline Kingscholar has over your body. This is typical of him. Whenever you were in the botanical gardens during daylight, a lion would find itself leaning over you. Still, you should maintain your promise that you would stay on the benevolent side of every housewarden and not bite back. You even managed to smile at Malleus Draconia two weeks ago! Though it had sent shivers down your spine and left you dizzy with terror. So be nice to Kingscholar, you remind yourself, though you are always nice to Kingscholar.

You puff in surprise at his next move. Leona moves his face to rest his chin on the crook of your collarbone. Getting a face full of voluminous hair, you spit when some gets too close to your mouth. If your hands were not occupied with flowers, you would poke him. Instead, you vouch to remind, “No sleeping on me while standing, Kingscholar.”and dig your chin into his head.

Your only response is a soft sniffle against your neck. You twitch at the feel of it.

“If the smell of cyanide on me is bothersome, my apologies, Housewarden Kingscholar.”

“Nonsense, I like that scent on you.” He moves back and starts to mess with the flowers in your hand, claws poking at petals. “This other smell though –”

Leona stiffens. His keen eyes flicker up to your face and then back down to the flowers. Like an insect sprayed with water, his nose twitches and twitches.

What is he so concerned about? But then, one of his fingerless gloved hands starts to go down to your waist. Terror reaches out as Leona does, squeezing your heart like a mutt ripping into their favorite toy. Ice shoots down into your burning, rash-covered fingertips. You had forgotten, as you lingered here in conversation with Leona, that he could smell magic. The crumbs and residue of a spell. The stain of an overblot dot. You go to jump back when –

“Ah, Pufferfish, I thought I would find you here.”

It is a moment of convenience and parrying, you harshly remind yourself as you look with eager eyes at Jade Leech. You had completely forgotten about the break between second and third period. Perhaps he was hoping to spend time with his terrariums? Whatever the reason, you will take your exit graciously.

Annoyance paints Leona’s face as you slip through his grasp like sand. You bound over to Jade’s side and quickly go to speak about his ‘tutoring’, knowing he is sly enough to catch on. Yet you are interrupted as he observes the poisonous flowers in your hands and smiles, “Ah, are those for me? How generous.”

You try to ignore it. You really try to submerge the feeling in the back of your mind but it erupts in a heat across your neck and ears. “O-Oh, I. I um.”

“Thank you,” Jade smiles and delicately peels the larkspurs and angel’s trumpets from your hands. He admires the braided stems. “Angel’s trumpets. You do always seem drawn to the things named after angels. Fufufu, quite fitting, indeed.”

The flush over your skin dies when you hear a low growl behind you. You turn to Leona, a brief shock in your eyes. “Ah, housewarden Kingscholar,” you start and the anger seems to deflate out of Leona, typical annoyance adorning his face. “I have to go. Leech and I are actually going to do some studying on these types of flowers. I’ll see you later?”

Despite the fact anger is gone from Leona’s expression, his tail is shifting behind him, contemplating his motions. His eyes trail to the flowers clutched in Jade’s gloved hands. “See you later. Don’t disturb my nap next time.”

Taking the opportunity, you and Jade exit. Though you mourn being gone from the fresh air of the botanical gardens, you are grateful to have escaped with your secret (which makes your worry about said secret less tantalizing than before). You and Jade stride in silence for a while. He is surprisingly finishing braiding the remaining flowers that you missed, content to ignore you. You start to feel that familiar flame crawl up your shoulders, worrying about that black dot. You bring a thumb to your mouth, biting at the edge.

Noticing, Jade pops the head off one angel’s trumpet and hands it to you. “What are the side effects of this one? No flowers grow in the Coral Sea.”

You gratefully take the cone-headed flower, rolling it around in your bare fingertips. “If you ingest them, fever, hallucinations, and persistent memory disturbances, to name a few things. When brewed in tea, they can block this compound that sends signals to cells to do specific body functions and results in delirium. Ingest a whole bouquet, you’re looking at death and a life without children.” Jade lifts an eyebrow at that. “They’ll paralyze your dick.”

“Oh,” the eel-mer grows a bit paler in his cheeks. You start to chuckle, feeling a little of the weight that had been crushing you earlier lift off. “Truly a deadly angel. Hm, you said something about brewing them in tea.”

You puff at him, “Don’t think I’ll be willing to drink anything you serve me. I wouldn’t trust bottled water from your hands.”

“And yet you drank a drink Floyd presented you with when signing our contract. How cruel of you. Perhaps you should have made a deal with him instead.”

“Don’t joke like that.” The eel-mer gives you that odious smile. A grimace falls on your face at the sight of him looking happy.

Still … you made a promise to maintain good-naturedness with NRC’s housewardens and their second in command were simply an extension of them. “Leech. Thank you for retrieving me.”

“Ah, it is no problem. You looked like you needed an out. I provided one.” Still … you want to gripe that it meant a lot to you, but you rather not push it. If the sycophantic was going to act against his nature and help you, accept it. “To be frank, think nothing of it; I’m positive that you will get me back eventually.” Spoke too soon.

“Yes, I’m sure you and Azul have already created an outlined list of each small favor you had done for me during our time under contract.”

“All completed with dates and times,” Jade adds helpfully.

You chuckle, pressing the angel's trumpet to your lips. Inhaling the sweet scent, you think how monumental it is that eating such a plant could make someone fall into a coma. Truly, magical spells are petite stars compared to the universe of power nature has given the world. So enamored with the upside-down umbrella-like petals, you blink in surprise once realizing both of you are walking towards the Hall of Mirrors.

“Have you always been so close with that lion?”

Your shoulders rise in surprise. “Kingscholar? Yeah, we’re close. He naps in the botanical gardens often and I’m in there experimenting. We know each other fairly well. Though I’d rather not be the spot that he decides to nap on.”

This time you notice he is not looking at you. Odd, when you were speaking a moment ago, you two held each other’s gazes. He has his eyes trained towards his ‘gifted’ bouquet as if trying to shield something from you.

“I had not realized. Perhaps, I have not been to the botanical gardens as frequently as I thought.” His keen eyes cut a perfect bisecting line across your features. Bristling under his harsh attention, you listen as he says, “Do you see him as a friend like Si and Am?”

“I try to keep every housewarden in my good graces. If he does not graduate, I’ll be standing beside him at Orientation. I would rather our relationship be more stable than the one between him and Schoenheit.”

And that is the honest truth. You had already tried your hardest to become friends with Rosehearts and Al-Asim. You were slightly successful both times as they were rather easy to appease in their own ways. Ashengrotto had proven to be a harder buyer of your friendship, especially since you were very opposed to stepping into Octavinelle. Still, remaining cordial with Kingscholar was planned too because he might stay back another year. Yet, you never spoke to Schoenheit.

As Jade is contemplating your words, you two enter the Hall of Mirrors. It is slightly dense with students, coming from free periods into Night Raven College. You step close to Jade and look up.

“Housewarden Kingscholar is just, well he’s just that. Housewarden Kingscholar.”

Seemingly this pleases Jade because he gives a little satisfied hum at the answer. “Well,” he starts as he picks the angel’s trumpet out of your hands. “I can see no one will be breaking through your barricades any time soon. Not unless they’re equipped with a tank of sorts.”

He takes the yellow flower and places it on the nook of your ear. His fingers move down and down until he reaches your neck, rubbing his thumb against it again. What was up with that?

“Well, my shift at Mostro Lounge starts this period so I should be going.” You nod, sharing the sentiment.

“Perhaps you can grace me with your presence sometime. Floyd will serve your drink.”

“Anyone ever have the guts to tell you that your jokes aren’t funny?”

“I happen to be known as a very fun-gi by those close to me.”

“That was awful, Leech.”

Seconds before you depart from each other, Jade instructs you, “Take a shower when you get back to your dorm.” You blink at him as he starts to slip a leg into the Octavinelle mirror. “Just … benevolent advice.” And then, with your bouquet in hand, the flickering mirror slides over him like a wave and Jade Leech is gone.

┉┉

Jade is smiling. Which in itself is not unusual. Jade is typically always smiling, eyes angled up and a polite simper on his features. The roulette of emotions he shows on his face is few but smiling seems to be a constant.

This smile is something different, though. One that is barely concealing its malice mirth with tiny twitches. Like he has a knife attached to his sleeve, gearing to slit your throat ear to ear. If you shrink into yourself a little, you tell yourself it is self defense rather than cowardice.

And he’s walking faster towards you than usual! Sevens, he might just be plotting to kill you.

He comes in front of the steel desk with one hand over his heart and the other behind his back. You noticed it briefly when he was discussing destroying angel mushrooms but it is more prominent now. When Jade is pleased, his eyes glow slightly. Dim luminous yellow like a pinprick of a flashlight, yellow gliding over his eyelashes.

“Good morning, Pufferfish.”

“You seem awfully pleased, Leech.” The hand that you decided conveniently to place your neck on is self defense, you remind yourself. “You managed to steal the spot of housewarden from Azul? Discover a new species of mushroom?”

“Though it is regrettable not the latter, I can assure you that I am ‘awfully pleased’ for reasons that you will be most gratuitous for.”

Oh that is not a good sign. Shifting in your seat, you say, “Okay, I’m biting. What’s got you so happy?”

Grin growing, he pulls his non-dominant hand from his spine and holds his source of happiness out to you. You almost faint.

You stare at the vial as if it will suddenly combust like a poorly wired bomb or grow teeny legs to visit the Headmaster to snitch. Then, your heart starts pounding excited bursts. You leap over the desk and grab Jade by his tie, hissing, “How did you even manage to get this!”

“The Octavinelle dorm prides itself on benevolently helping others in need. If there is a problem, we procure a solution. Thus, due to this sympathetic principle, we do have connections in every dorm, and with every housewarden.”

“Ashengrotto managed to get blackmail on Schoenheit!”

“Fufufu, to me, blackmail is such a crass word. But it is better to be the one holding the debt, than be indebted.”

Hand still clutching Jade’s tie, you turn and stare down at the vial. It is the poison that made Vil Schoenheit housewarden after his first year attending NRC. You had watched the broadcast as often as you did your housewarden’s overblot. Enraptured and drawn in by the ferocity of a Pomefiore’s housewarden. How you yearned to be that grand and perfect. As perfectly pristine as the lacy, overblot insignia on Schoenheit’s forehead. In Jade’s hand was an achievement that any Pomefiore student would kill to have. And Jade has it held out to level with your nose! You do not realize it but your features are inches away from brushing his cheek as you lean in. Fixated, you stare at the bluish-green liquid like it is a winning lottery ticket. The gluttonous liquid stares back.

In awe, you whisper, “Who would have imagined Schoenheit caught up in strings?” You reach out a finger to briefly draw a line down the vial. “So pretty. Poison is so pretty.” Like a mage has placed a potent charm on your soul, you are bewitched by the sight of the vial.

You snap out of it when Jade’s chuckle blows warm air on the side of your face. Suddenly realizing the distance between the two of you is not even considered distance, you quickly fall back into your seat. Your heart is pounding rapidly; is it because of the lack of distance or being so close to that poison?

“Be honest, how did you manage to get it? No way this came easy. A Pomefiore’s housewarden’s pride is their ability to make a winning poison.”

“Vil is an individual meticulous about his looks. That’s his main pride. Floyd and I happened to halt the production of one of his skincare products in order for me to retrieve this for you.” Then, shockingly, Jade slowly grabs your dominant hand and unfurls the fingers. You shiver at his unhesitant touch. He drops the vial into your grasp. Grip on it sturdy, you look up at Jade’s radiating eyes.

“Wait. You’re giving this to me.”

He halted the entire production of skincare? Were there recognizable name brand products under the management of the Octavinelle trio? You couldn’t have guessed that their influence was that large. Struck with some warm, foreign emotion, your eyes trail back down to the hypnotizing, lovely poison in your hand. “But why?” Why would Jade Leech ever pull a single string in the marionette of influence that he and his two friends had over NRC for you?

Answering your question, Jade straightens his posture and a hand falls to his chest, “Like previously stated, it is better to be the one holding the debt than be indebted.”

Oh. A frost falls over whatever unknown warmth had previously enraptured you. You realize what you hold on your hand is far from a gift but a leash. A bit of blackmail to hang over you at all times. A knife always at the back. No good deed comes without a price to pay – unsurprisingly, this is another debt to that outlined list.

As if noticing your sudden emotional shift, Jade amends, “but this time you can be assured that when time comes for me to cash in, it will make you awfully pleased. Trust me.”

“That’s asking the impossible, Leech,” you sigh.

Despite your words, you roll the vial around in your hand anyways. You are already thinking of all the things you can do with the treasure in your possession. First will be dissecting the ingredients. Or should you test it on your arm? A delighted shiver runs down your back. You feel like you are on cloud nine.

You have been facing trouble almost all your life. Truly what was one more offense? If Jade was not being deceitful then this would work in your favor. Sycophants were not usually known for such generosity. Maybe you misjudged the eel – if only a little bit.

“Leech.” You cannot believe you are about to say this. “Thank you. You didn’t have to and I didn’t ask for it. So, thank you.” There you go, out with it, no matter if it feels like chewing nails.

His smiles turn a bit warmer. Yet, in typical fashion of his, he weighs his next words carefully. What should it be: Azul and I; the Octavinelle dorm; or I, singular. Instead, Jade omits himself, “Azul expects great things from you when you are a housewarden, Pufferfish. Don’t disappoint him.”

A prideful grin materializes on your face. “Wouldn’t dream of it.” You pull Jade’s seat out from under the table. “Sit. I’m dying to test this.”

Jade makes no move to sit. You are arrogant to his plight, eagerly unbuttoning your vest. He traces his eyes over your collarbone, the ridges where bone pushes up. Drawing his eyes over the brightness of your eyes and the speed of your fingers. The collared shirt falls to the ground. The tiniest hit of muscle tone in your unbandaged arm stirs up his slippery intestines. Upon being so close, observing, Jade thinks he might get cold feet. But

“I also brought this for you.”

His words are apprehensive; his self-assured smile is strained. Your hand stops fiddling with the tied part of your bandages. Whatever Jade is appearing to hand over to you must be more dangerous than the vial you grip. Nails snap into your flesh like an activated bear-trap. Dreadfully, you remember your new possession could usher you into expulsion. You wait with baited breath.

“It is a gift. I,” Jade clears his throat, seemingly frustrated with himself, “I thought that with your affection for poisonous things that you would enjoy it.” He waves his magestone through the humid air. A lavender comet paints the air briefly.

At first, an irrational part of you worries he will summon a sulfuric liquid to pour over your head in a sick joke. So though your muscles slightly tighten up, Jade still goes through with his spell. Worry withers. You spring up upon seeing what he has summoned.

“Wow.”

In front of you sits a terrarium. The glass structure is shaped like a tiny gnome house, perhaps about one quarter smaller than a gingerbread house. Elegant black metal twirls around the pentagon’s sides. Moss and soil with a few decorative pieces of bark lie on the bottom. Inside lies two destroying angels, one taller than the other. It is oddly sentimentally of Jade.

There comes that warm, strange emotion again. What is it? Perhaps, your addiction to self-done tests is eroding a part of your stomach or ribs. Is some acid sitting dormant in your chest, waiting until Jade does something unexpected?

“Thank you.”

You push the thought away. Nothing to be concerned about.

┉┉

“So. Jade Leech?”

Really, you should learn to collar your emotions. Why did Night Raven College not teach a course about emotional intelligence? Perhaps then every housewarden would not be falling in a domino effect of overblotting. Trying fruitlessly to relax your shoulders, you ask over them, “What about him?”

“You just have been spending a lot of time with him.”

“I agree. It is almost weekly at this point.”

“Almost daily if I remember correctly, just not Tuesdays or Thursdays.”

“Odd.”

“Truly odd.”

Bristling, you send a venomous look over your shoulder. “I don’t like what you’re implying.” The siamese twins give you a matching expression of mock confusion.

“Implying what?” Si asks.

“Implying what?” Am asks.

You roll your eyes to the ceiling and continue down Night Raven’s halls. The twins had been flanking (in their words, escorting you) since you all left Humanities. Usually, this would not bother you. Catty and sly, they were still your friends. You even planned to pick one of them as your vice-housewarden when the time came.

You just really do not like what they were implying.

Am tucks a strand of hair between his ear and says, “It is just odd that after your self-proclaimed ban on anything involving Octavinelle that you would hang out with the vice-housewarden of Octavinelle so often.”

Si adds in, flicking dust off his tail, “We all know you are not dumb enough to sign up a contract with Azul. So what has you so enthralled with that eel?”

Out of the corner of your eye, you catch the motions. Are they truly disturbed the thought of you hanging out with Jade Leech? Though their body language was quite different from yours. Still, how sweet of them.

“Are you in trouble, (Name)? If you ever need a fish flayed, you have two cats at the defense.” Am puts an elbow on your shoulder.

Si follows along, “Little eel wouldn’t know what hit him.”

You chuckle at their offers. Si and Am are certainly dangerous students. Deep crystal blue eyes (framed by golden hair with black tips) that were shrewd and curious. Two matching sets of claws for each of them that could shred skin easily. Large fangs only visible when they chose to intimidate. Unpredictable and volatile cats.

At least with Floyd Leech and Jade Leech, you had a little distinction with who you were dealing with due to their unmatched hair. The siamese twins were perfect clones of each other, adding to the turbulent experience of interacting with them.

“I can take care of myself,” you say, grateful to finally come up to the door of Divus Crewel’s class. “Though, the offer is not on a time limit, is it?” A playful, unserious smile grows on your face.

“Of course not,” both of them say in unison.

You laugh and disappear through the door, singing “Have a good day you two.” You miss it, but as soon as your back is turned, those shrewd blues eyes sink down into malice, cutting glares.

“What’s so funny?”

“Ah!”

You jump in surprise. Why are you so surprised, you arranged for Jade to meet you here? Hand on your heart, you greet the eel-mer with a timid smile as he leans over, teeth on display. It is quite cute that he tucks that black strand behind his ear when wearing safety goggles. Heart slowing, you scold, “Warn me before you speak.”

His eyes narrow yet his smile stays present. Chuckling, Jade stands up to his full height and stalks off. He truly is sinister in his motions at times, never revealing too much. “So. How did you manage to get Crewel’s classroom empty?”

“I offered up study sheets for Crewel’s upcoming exam to get the students that were going to use this room today.”

“Hm, where have I heard that before?”

Upset that he is comparing you to his housewarden (who is in Octavinelle), you bump your hip into his. “Watch it, Leech.”

It brings back that nagging thought all the same. You gather up your lab coat as Jade moves a couple of items around the room. Octavinelle. Why did destiny try to push you into somewhere you did not belong? Fingers buttoning up the coat, you seethe at the idea. Were you contorting and bending yourself into a position you did not belong to; to you, it is either become the housewarden of Pomefiore or become nothing – your train of thought ends when Jade puts the vial of poison in your gloved hands. He has finished setting up the cauldrons to analyze the simple ingredients of Schoenheit’s poison. No. This was right. And for some reason what encourages that thought is not the vial but the smile on Jade’s face.

┉┉

Dead ends. The end of a road or passage from which no exit is possible. Dead ends in artwork, staring at a computer or canvas and unable to create. Dead ends in jobs, accepting the placement of yourself that has no chance of advancement into a higher position. Dead ends in academics, coming to the point where you had wrung out the last bit of your knowledge into a project.

You were sure that just around the bend, your nose would punch into concrete and your stubbed toes would ache in a grueling pain. The passage that you were taking to Pomefiore housewarden would summon a blocking wall. Faith would call you to struggle up it and climb. But … your nose was raw from past collisions and your heels were numb from previous efforts, another climb might mean you would slip down. Crunch and splat when you drop. Emotionally, you just felt exhausted and raw.

Jade might have been right, you would never be satisfied despite numerous testing trails. Your poison could kill a dragon in a day and you would go on trying for a lethal dose that worked in twenty-three hours, then moving onto twenty-two hours. Why were you like this?

Lamenting, you toss over in bed. The ceiling blinks at you, uncomforting. You rest the back of your hand on your forehead as if you were checking for a temperature. Jumbled legs twist the lilac sheets and you ask one of Sevens to aid you into sinking into the bed. You feel like some cheap rendition of Fuseli’s The Nightmare, locked in by this mood. Slowly, you slide your head over the side of your bed so the world tilts upside down. Your dominant hand knuckles kiss the floor, bandages stretching from the arc. There is a more accurate rendition.

Self-experimenting on your arm usually grounded you in volatile times. A new burn cries on your shoulder as you roll your knuckle on the ground. Dealing with both speckles of blot and the upcoming exam … well, self-experimentation was not providing the usual security.

You fidget your hand in senseless motions, thinking and thinking. Your contract was signed for the purpose of opening new doors to you. Granted, Jade Leech did have the keys to access them but – “Yet your shortcomings are making you fail. I can only aid so much.” and those shimmering eyes stamp themselves in your mind.

You spring up in bed!

Flipping yourself off the bed, you growl and kick when your legs get tangled in the sheets. Your shortcomings. Your shortcomings would not be what got in the way of becoming Poemfiore’s housewarden. The brick wall that would be found around the bend would not be your own reflection!

Riding off that positive energy, you hover over your dresser. You had a minimal amount of clothes, so most of the dresser was filled and packed with papers relating to your research along with your poisons. Sealed with your own magic, of course. Trusting public storage lockers, even if locked by Divus Crewel himself, made you nervous.

You look at all the locked drawers, hand starting to reach for your magic pen when you suddenly stop. The terrarium Jade had given you rested on the solid-wood top. Destroying angels. The twin angels nestle against each other, one tall and the other medium sized.

Before you really comprehend yourself, you are lifting up the glass-house top and using the poker to lock it into an open position. Carefully, trying to not disturb the foliage, you pluck up an angel.

“My own shortcomings, hm,” you murmur and twist the mushroom around. You refuse to fail because of yourself. Perhaps, you are self-experimenting in the wrong places. You had tasted poison before but … “I’ll tell it to Leech when I see him,” you decide and take a bite of the poisonous mushroom.

You just have to be more hands on.

“Taste-testing your own poison?” Jade asks.

This is your objective when you see Jade Leech, the next day. This meeting is in the botanical gardens, a bit deeper into the greenhouse and a bit later than usual. In his hand, he rotates the half bitten destroying angel you had presented like a proposal ring out of your dorm pocket. His scrutinizing eyes flick between you and the bite marks.

Sevens … why are you nervous for his approval on this matter?

“How surprising of you. Grown bored of our tiny simulacrum spells, have you?” He sinks a thumbnail into the indented space. Studying intently on where you have bitten and the size you consumed, the grams of amatoxin poison.

“Would you really want to go through what they have on a larger scale? Small bits like these are much less … lethal. It would be unfortunate if you jeopardized your life before the contract collects it.”

“Odd way to say you’re worried about my life.”

“Oh, nothing of the sort.”

Slippery eel. Slippery eel. Slippery eel. Shimmering inside, you quickly grab the paperwork you prepared for tonight. You must be making that pufferfish expression because Jade smiles warmly at you. “See, I calculated it out. I was able to neutralize the amatoxin in the mushrooms with magic. I burnt it all away from my system.”

You quickly slid a paper in front of Jade and continued. “This is the list of poison that I had tested orally before and some I have even built up tolerances to.” His lips move slightly as he reads them. Ignoring your warming neck, you grab the paperwork and start reorganizing your poison bottles. “I can safely consume a variety of these and burn them out of me when they become too lethal.”

“It is also correct of me to assume that you will proceed with this even without my approval.”

“Yes, very correct,” you grin and pull a specific poison between you. Pinching it by the cork, you amorously twirl it on the table in sly circles. Inside, ebon liquid that shines mauve rocks like a bobbing ship. “But, it would be more benevolent of you to help, yes?”

“I suppose,” Jade grumbles.

He is a bit displeased at having been caught by his own contract clause. Not that you need to know that his benevolent interest involves keeping you safe. You excitedly uncork the bottle and shuffle paperwork towards him. No, you definitely do not need to know that.

“Great!”

You stand up from the table and take a few steps back. You put the cork into the pocket of your dorm uniform and raise the bottle to your lips. It is all happening so quickly that Jade’s heart jumps like a frog into his throat. Give an eel a warning!

Before you drink, your eyes widen and you remember something. You reach onto the table and grab a … watch? “Almost forgot. I want you to write down all that happens along with the times. I’ll try to stay talking for as long as possible.”

“You do know that you are drinking a poison meant to kill a dragon.”

“Yes, I’m quite aware of what poisons I work with.”

“Perhaps a smaller sip should be taken. We can calculate the volume and density between you and a dragon. It should work the same.”

“No, I’d rather drink it all.”

“Benevolently, I think –”

“Leech,” here you grab his hands and force them to cup together. Oh Sevens, his face feels warm. “Trust in me. I will become Pomefoire’s housewarden. I just have to work past the limits.” You deposit the watch into his gloved hands. “Keep time for me.”

“Okay.” The words of a smitten eel.

“Thank you.” You fall back a few steps and lift the poison back up. “Time?”

“Nine, forty-eight, zero three. Zero four. Zero five.”

“Good.”

Delicately, like you are sipping a rare tea, you lift the poison’s bottle to rest on your bottom lip. You hold it there, listening to Jade count up. You cannot allow yourself to be the reason you fail. You cannot be your own shortcoming, something else would have to interfere. Doing this, you would be able to calculate the specifics of what the poison targets, the speed, and so much more!

Still, your heart is quickly hammering up in your throat.

Medicine. Take it like it is medicine. You sternly tell yourself. And before the begging fists of your heart can beat any faster, you take it all down in one gulp. Just like medicine.

“Tw-Twelve. Thirteen. Fourteen. Fifteen. Sixteen.” Jade uncharacteristically stumbles in his counting. He keeps going as your throat bobs with the weight of poison.

The taste is not putrid. You do not shake your head or scrunch your nose at all. Swallowing with a tiny quiver of your bottom lip, your face falls neutral. A thumb wipes your lisp for good measure. “Twenty-one. Twenty-two.” Now, it is all about the waiting.

You two do have to wait long because before Jade can even reach the full sixty seconds, your dominant hand suddenly rises up to your lips in surprise. No way. Before you pinch it down, a cough pounds itself free from you. And it is a horrifically wet, gurgling cough. You move your hand away, staring at the strings of blood connecting lip to hand.

“(Name).”

“Keep counting.”

Okay, what was this targeting first? Scrutinizing over the liquid, you think about your airways. Your tongue was still intact. So this was not completely fast-acting and more gore decorates your hand as you hunch over with another punching cough. Your airways were mostly likely corroding first, but a dragon had such thick airways. What should you do to maximize –

Before you can theorize more, you are on your knees, choking like you ran a marathon. Blood splatters out of your mouth. Sevens, you really should burn it out of you.

You go to grab your magestone — the spell will weigh heavy on it but — you startle when two hands grab your shoulders, unsure of who is trying to get a one up on you. Hand clapped over your quivering mouth, you meet Jade’s narrowed eyes and watch his lips move. That’s right. It’s just Jade. You shuffle one arm out of his tight grip, fist around your magestone. The spell sends the sensation of barb-wire veins running up into steel arteries, but you still manage it.

The room goes black, all electricity absorbed by your pen. As your breath and hearing come back to you, you find Jade’s shoulder in the dark.

“Write down everything I’m about to say,” you say victorious.

┉┉

“WHERE THE FUCK IS IT!”

Vengefully, you grasp the drawer’s knob and fling the wooden box across your room. The momentum causes it to hit the mirror above your desk. Snowflakes of glass sneeze out onto your carpet in a musical burst. The symphony just causes you to grind your teeth harder until your gums are begging for relief.

“Where – Where,” you caterwaul desperately. Snowflakes of agony hurricane in your mouth and reduce your once stable voice to a shredded mimic of itself.

You rip open another drawer. Inside is exactly what you are not looking for. That is predictable because you knew you would never misplace what you are currently without. Still, you desperately search and search, fruitlessly hoping that you did misplace it. Still, you claw through your room because it is better than having to face the music that someone has stolen your research notes and preparations for the summer exam.

“Please,” you beg the last untouched drawer in your room. “Please.”

Slowly, the drawer opens up and in it are no bundles of paper twined with magic nor your nine bottles of poison nor Vil Schoenheit’s vial of poison. Like a puppet cut from its strings, you fold over the drawer and start to hyperventilate. “N-ngh, no … no.”

Distantly, you feel the raindrops. Three consecutive splat splat splat falling over your head, spreading down your curled spine and seeping into you. Overblot. Though your pen is far from your hand, you feel it clearly there. The soulbound between you and your pen burns you. Magic becomes dirtier as emotional pain pushes at your throat like vengeful hands. Rein it in, you scold yourself, hunching and groaning at the pain. You dig your forehead into the wood of your dresser to focus on anything but the watery black liquid that coats you. “Br-Breathe,” you scold yourself.

Slowly, you emerge out of the phantom blot that has infected you. Like caught in a shuddering light, your body moves in odd inhuman jerks. Nails digging into the dresser’s top, you pull yourself up. “Breathe,” you repeat a little firmer this time.

The botanical gardens or Pomefiore’s laboratory. Preferably, the laboratory in Pomefiore’s dorm so you will not collide with any unwanted attention. You surmise that the best course of action is to find a way to calm down. If you can drown this painful burn with something stronger – You will – You will just sign another contract with Ashengrotto to locate who stole from you. Desperately, you plan and plan how you can avoid overblotting. On twitching legs, you exit your dorm of discord and leave your magestone on your desk.

“Breathe.”

The walk to your room and Pomefiore’s private laboratory feels like stepping on hot coals barefoot. Burying yourself into the violet sleeve of your dorm uniform, you try to navigate with limited vision. Your fellow dormmates look upon you like you are a stumbling raccoon drunk off rabies. You keep most of your warm face hidden by the sleeve over your cheek and nose. Sevens, you hope that no one has rented the laboratory for a private study.

Your motions are still unstable and jumbled. The revelation that someone has successfully stolen your work from you is world-tilting. Tripping over your own feet and bumping shoulders with students, you reach a hand to your sternum and push. Your hand tries to combat the rapid pace of your heart.

“No, don't think like that,” you mumble drunkenly but then the thought consumes you.

Jade Leech. Heart lunging into your bone like a claymore, you wince violently at the thought. After giving you Schoenheit’s poison, what is the purpose of taking it back then taking everything else in addition? Would his contract allow him to steal? If his benevolence was tied not towards helping you but helping Ashengrotto, then it might be a loophole. No, he was contractually forced to assist you; plus his character …

“No, Jade, won’t,” you start but stop. You do not know that eel-mer. You are not on a first name basis. Despite that, your heart pounds at the raw leather and rose flesh of your ribcage and muscular system, terribly sad.

Stumbling, you make it shoulder first into the door of Pomefiore’s lab. With a groan, you push open the door and fall in. Momentarily, you close your eyes and breathe in the scent of chemicals. Home on Saturdays and Sundays. Days in the laboratory with mother. Breathing becomes easier and then you open your eyes and it is suddenly unachievable.

“You fucking trait –!”

Your hand races down to your empty pocket, feeling for your magic pen. You stumble twice, once when realizing you left your pen in your dorm and second when the growing mass of a water spell is pointed in your direction.

“Cut it out, (Last Name). Throw your magestone on the ground now.”

“I-I don’t have it on me.”

The absolute devastation laced in your face and voice must be enough because … A wicked laugh billows up out of sharp teeth. Water spell drips off his pen. Your body puffs defensively at the shame you feel. In one hot glare, you watch Si and Am laugh cruelly at you.

“Give me back my stuff, you traitors,” you growl.

“Come, surely, you don’t think your words are going to get us to relinquish this to you.”

“Took way too many unlock spells to get our rewards.”

“Truly such a paranoid individual you are. Seven arcane lock spells.”

“You have always been so troublesome since Orientation.”

“I don’t fucking care,” you scream, hands clenching at your side. “It is locked up because it is mine. It belongs to me.”

“There you go again,” Am sighs. “Always claiming things. Claiming that the Pomefiore dorm is yours. Claiming that this,” the siamese lifts up the vial and a chill stabs you, “is yours when it is actually Schoenheit’s. Do you really have anything that is yours besides your self righteousness?”

You have heard enough and rush towards the twins. It is two against one. Pure magic against an overblotting mage. It is a battle that has already decided its victory, but you march into it nonetheless. Tails whip up in surprise as you close a long gap in seconds. Aiming towards Am, you raise up one fist, vision red with anger. The punch does not land.

Instead, a levitation spell bubbles around the back of your head and you are slammed swiftly into the wood of a lab table. “Fuck!” Your body crumples to the ground as those laughs start up again.

“HAHAHAHA, the future housewarden of Pomefiore everyone. A round of applause for this intelligent, unrelenting mage,” Si sings, summoning an auditory track of cheering and hollering whoops with his magestone.

Am hurdles a more subdued laugh at you. “Truly, did you expect to be the next housewarden? That wasn’t a jest?” The cat smiles larger when you — pushed to the dirty ground on all fours and a slime-trail of red down your nose — glare up at him. “Oh, it wasn’t. How sad.”

Mouth opening, you go defend your future position as housewarden. They knew you deserved that position. They were stealing your information above anyone else. You were the most likely winner for the exam, with or without Jade Leech’s and with or without Schoenheit’s poison. Claws sink into the soft flesh of your cheek. Claws cut off all your bristling anger before you can speak. Si pulls you up between the chest of him and his brother.

Kingscholar slashed open your ankle once but nothing compares to this bloody pain. Physically injured and emotionally embarrassed is a deadly combination. You cry out when Am takes one of his claws and cuts diagonal along your noise.

“Now, tell us, what does the brilliant (Name) have in their plans? How do you rebound,” fangs wink and preen at you in victory. “What’s the revenge for us going to look like?”

“Th-The Dark Mirror,” you spit out from the bear-trap of fingers clenching deeper into your face. One of your hands rises up and clenches back at Si’s wrist. “That’s my work. The Dark Mirror will recognize my magic on it.”

“Come now, don’t be so dense. Even if the Dark Mirror recognizes your work, we always have one ace up our sleeve.”

Schoenheit’s poison is waved in front of your bloody nose like a hypnotizing clock.

“You should know that no underclassman can receive help from their housewarden for the upcoming summer exam. I don’t know how you managed to get blackmail on Schoenheit but well done. You sealed your own fate.”

“Besides, (Name), who will they believe: us, the amiable students who have drawn no attention to themselves, or the student who has always had one foot in expulsion and one in attendance after disrespecting Dire Crowley? Crowley would die to have a reason to kick you out.”

“No more troublesome little mage in NRC.”

“No more housewarden (Last Name).”

All your thoughts and anger caught in your throat, all you do is puff. You want to warn them to watch what they drink, be careful what might slip into their food, but you know that the threat of Dire Crowley’s involvement is all too real. You cannot poison them if they leave something behind for Crowley to find. Think. Think. Think.

Sharp cobalt eyes meeting, they seem to conclude they are done with you. With a simple wave of a magestone, your body is propelled through the door and into the adjacent wall in a single blinking second.

“Ack,” your throat cries as you crumple to the floor.

“Tah-dah!”

An explosion of confetti explodes over your head and the coupling laughter of Si and Am cuts off when the laboratory door closes shut. Under the shower of pinks and yellows and whites, you sit, bleeding heavily from your nose. Trembling once more, you jerk yourself into a ball and put the sleeve on your uniform firmly to your mouth.

Breathe. Breathe. Breathe, breathe, breathe. Breathe. Breathe. BreatheBreatheBreatheBreathe –

You have been using your magic pen, less and less.

It is only natural, you scold yourself. A safety precaution that you need to take. Instead of openly volunteering to demonstrate spells for professors, you let another student take up the helm. But it causes an itch to glove itself over your arm, observing and not participating in potionology.

Perhaps people think you have gained modesty. Perhaps people are thinking you are growing lazy. You would bare your teeth at all of them. They don’t understand. Holding your magic pen is like holding your hand on a bomb always. It is like holding a grenade with the thoughtlessness of holding a rubber eraser. A simple levitation spell to grab potions off Crewel’s top shelf could blow off and unravel the bones and blood of your hand.

Eventually, you are going to get caught. Too many times using a ladder instead of a levitation spell, too many times struggling with tightly sealed caps instead of using an elementary ‘unscrew’ spell. With a vice-housewarden like Hunt, you know when eyes are peering at you. You just wished that it was anyone else.

“Twenty-seven,” you grumble. It really is not meant to be heard and is for your own pitiful attempt at finding some entertainment in this entire shitty storm. Still, it is hard to keep things hidden from Jade Leech – spoken or unspoken, it comes to light.

“Twenty-seven,” Jade muses from behind you. His hand is posed to his chin in that calculating manner. “If I counted correctly, I only looked at you seven times during our Defense Magic class and then five times in our Flying class. That makes twelve.”

Sometimes, you wish that you did carry the physical traits of a pufferfish so you could stab and stab at the annoyance that is Jade Leech. Pufferfish regrettably were not poisonous for eels to consume. So slicing yourself up for him to eat would be useless. Sighing, you slow your steps so you and him fall into walking next to each other.

“Only twelve? I swear I thought you were going to burn a hole in my head. Are you going to add to that number when we reach potionology?”

“Perhaps then I can actually reach twenty-seven. I will work diligently to get there.”

You crush the laugh that wants to come out and stay silent, upset at everything, him and beyond.

“Pufferfish, you have missed our last two scheduled meetings. Monday and Wednesday at eight PM. I’ll have you know that I loathe having my time wasted.”

“Sorry.”

“Does that mean I can expect your presence in the botanical gardens tomorrow?”

“No. No, don't wait for me there.”

Jade gives you a curious look, the tiniest hint of concern or maybe that is frustration. His hand momentarily flexes by his side, trying to inch towards you.

“Well, that is no good. Our contract did not outline what would happen if we stopped collaborating. I suppose that the clause would argue that you would have to give me a reason for terminating our agreement.”

“I’m not terminating anything. I’ll go and participate in the exam. If I lose, one of the three of you will decide to keep me. If I win, I will be a housewarden. The contract is still valid … I just do not require anything more from you.”

“Is that so? Nothing at all?”

“No, I got all I needed from our contract.”

“Then perhaps I can offer you a meal at Mostro Lounge since our research is complete. We should celebrate the fruits of labor, and we can discuss what poison you will be using to win.”

Your breath hitches. Jade definitely notices because he sends that curious look at you again; you can finally identify it as genuine concern. You cannot help how open your emotions are. That was the first time he had talked about the upcoming summer exam in a positive way instead of slyly hinting at possible failure. Jade Leech thought you were going to win. Jade Leech thought you could become Pomefiore’s housewarden.

Instead of joy, you want to curl into a ball and cry. Your bottom lip trembles.

“N-No, I don’t want to do that.” And even though you and Jade share the next period together, you quicken up your pace momentarily. “Thank you for all your help, Leech.”

Jade finally commits to the move to grab your dominant wrist. Uncaring of your bandaged and maimed arm, he pulls you so your body spins to face him. His mismatched eyes did not collide with yours. Instead, he is focused strictly on the magic pen you had gripped in your hand, which was once hidden in your pocket.

“(Name), your pen.” You tear yourself from his grip so fast that Jade blinks in surprise.

Tiny droplets start to blossom like cherries on your wrist from where his fingers had dug in. That pain is expected – you are not gonna get out a predator’s grip without a few cuts. Hell, Jade could probably tear your wrist to ribbons without breaking a sweat. Your features crinkle like paper mache, inked and painted with hot shame.

The concern in his eyes churns your stomach into a ugly nest of snakes. Bottom lip trembling, you scrounge your brain to find a way to excuse yourself. Really, what can you say to excuse the prominent black that is blanketing itself over the sleeping purple of your magestone. Your lips still tremble anyways, but you shut down when the predator crowding above you throws cutting words at you. The pain from them is unexpected.

“I shouldn't have to remind one of the highest ranking alumni the inevitable future that comes with having a magic pen that looks like yours. You watched your housewarden’s overblot and kept this hidden. For someone with so much intelligence, you are acting foolish, Pufferfish.”

The nickname, usually light, stabs at you like a claymore into your chest. Pufferfish … a bothersome fish that blows up around danger, one of the stupidest fucking fishes in the sea! Teeth clip against each other in your frustration. Rounding, you press your palms on Jade’s shoulders and push him as hard as you can. Blood from your wrist starts to climb down your fingers and towards your pen’s handle.

Concern is switched with shock. You doubt anyone has had the guts to ever physically injure him, not that your shove did anything but send him a few steps back. Not wanting to let him get in any words, you shout, “Don’t come near me anymore, Leech! Don’t find me in Pomefoire; don’t even look in my direction during class. Our contract is void.”

You turn, shove your magic pen back in your pocket, and go to flee when – “On what grounds?”

Students flow around you but you feel as if the entire world has frozen at his question … at worse, his tone of voice. Refusing to turn around, you push your mouth into your non-dominant sleeve. You bet if you turned around there would not even be any anger on his face, just that sharp, still, statue-like smile that could tear apart anything.

“On the grounds that you just violated our contract. You implied that you wanted me to stop using magic but I need magic to pursue becoming a housewarden. That is acting as a roadblock to me becoming Pomefiore’s housewarden.”

“I suppose that it was outlined if you felt I was an impediment that our relationship would end. Benevolently, I would advise you to stop magic altogether. Very well. I thank you for our time together, Pufferfish.”

You wish you could be as graceful as Jade in the face of another person’s silly anger. Perhaps that is the divide that keeps you from your goal. Perhaps that is why you are only a student as a second year and Jade is a vice-housewarden.

“Whatever,” you mumble and rush to find a bathroom. The grease of blood in your hand is making your pen harder to hold onto. Slipping, slipping, slipping.

You had not even realized that magic grounded until you found yourself starting to slip from it. Solid ground underneath you has suddenly become sand, pulling itself from you like taffy and shifting in grainy waves around your soles. Fuck, you breathlessly realize that you are spilling into panic. The floor is pliant and vanishing from your reality. In a split decision, you take a turn towards the Hall of Mirrors instead of heading towards a bathroom.

Summoning bandages to wrap the wounds Jade has given you is an impossible feat. In your dorm, there are bandages along with thousands of other medicinal herbs and supplies. When you reach it, you hurl yourself into the Pomefiore mirror, gasping for breath as you just emerged from a dive in the Coral Sea.

Mentality is key. If you can occupy your mind with anything else but your overblot, perhaps you can finally push the slab of stone off your chest, the emotional peine forte et dure crushing your ribcage. You slam your open palm to your dorm door and rush inside.

Think of anything else, you beg your mind but you feel as if every single body has fragmented away from each other and placed them far away like out of reach planets. Sevens, think of anything else, you scream and your hip falls into the corner of your dresser. Focusing on the itch just makes it itchier. Focusing on an illness just prolongs the time you are sick.

The floorboards, count them, a satellite translator reaches out and you grab onto that thought.

One.

Two.

Three.

Your throat hugs your vocal cords. Individual bones embracing your breath and trying to smother you out.

Four.

Five.

Six.

Seven.

A knock at your door. Flailing at the sudden noise, your hip digs deeper into the dresser. A bitten back scream traps itself in your mouth. Your nails grip down the wood and you pant heavily onto the surface, panic rising back up now that your concentration is broken.

“Um, (Last Name)?”

Sevens, what awful timing –

When bolting through Pomefiore, you must have spilled past Epel Felmier. Fucking shit. He was a first year student that managed to pull a quarter of the strings for you to have that video of Vil’s overblot. He has requested from you a potion to strengthen tree roots and the fruit they produce. Well versed in botany, you agreed readily for that video. You gave him three vials and said to return for a larger dose of what had given him his desired effect. It was likely that he would be approaching you this week.

Just that remaining bit of Octavinelle in you, making deals to boast yourself up. You start seething at the vile thought. You want to entirely stamp Octavinelle out of your mind, incinerate them all into fish kabobs. Just as you try to picture the image to calm yourself, Epel Felmier knocks again.

“It’s been three weeks and all the test trials have gone well. I think I picked out which one I want. Could you open the door?”

Go away. Get the fuck away from me. You manage to force out, “Now’s not a good time, Felmier. Tomorrow okay?” Underneath your nails, strips of wood bury themselves as you drag your fingers down in a clawing lion grip. Wildly, your ring finger twitches with your shot nerves. You spear yourself harder on the desk to ground you.

Go away. Go away. Go away. Go away. Go away. Go away. Go –

“Are you overblotting!”

Your heart stops cold in your arteries. Huh. The floorboards start to blur under your bulging eyes. Then the entire room blurs and spins. You open your mouth, to respond to Epel’s acquisition. Syrupy black starts raining from the cumulus cloud of watery blot in your open mouth. Huh. Are you overblotting? No, you do not think so. However, the dots of blot pounding down on your dresser tell a different story.

Maybe this is right. You would have been in Octavinelle if you did not push. You are as egotistical and troublesome as everyone says. You do not deserve to be the housewarden of a dorm that rejected you originally.

Your vision swims and you tilt with it. In a desperate effort, you go to grab the dresser’s edge to avoid falling. Glass breaks and the sound returns you to yourself.

“Are you okay? You sound pained.”

Oh, that is what he shouted. You force out one last time, “Busy now! Tomorrow!”

The pressure of your hyperventilation and hugging ligaments increases. You start to choke on your terror and quickly press your mouth into your sleeve. When the fit subsides, you look down to see your dresser is clean besides the nail marks. Luckily, you can register the sound of Epel Felmier walking away. But where had the sound of glass come from –

“No. No,” you lament sincerely.

This time you allow yourself to fall down. You reach out a hand, draw it back, and then reach out again. The Dark Mirror should have banished you. You are scum. You are not worthy of what you covet. Avoiding glass shards, you grab the tallest destroying angel and bring it to rest on your knees. Tremors rock your body as if you are nude in a snowstorm.

Doubling over, you mourn, “Jade. Jade Jade Jade. I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry.”

Really, you should not be here. If you are found, it will surely be a mark on your already wobbling enrollment.

Breaking and entering anywhere in Night Raven College could lead to expulsion … but a majority of your time spent in NRC has been spent walking that fine line. Like an ostrich who has committed to burying itself underground, you commit yourself to this path no matter the consequences. One more risky choice is fine. Besides, no one would ever monitor the botanical gardens past midnight.

You sigh over your mortar and pestle. Dropping the tools, you actually do bury yourself. Into the comfort of your injured hands, you push your face deep into their embrace and groan. You hiss when sharp pangs of agony ripple up your back. A giant spider constructed from pain has spread its legs over your upper spine, embracing you. To be honest, everything is painful. As if to spite, your dominant arm has taken to burning and burning with no medicinal help getting it to calm. All this you could weather usually if – if only –

Sevens, are you going to start crying?

The last time you cried, you were eight. Since then, you had bottled up tears like they were a fatal toxicant that would ruin you. No, no, you cannot uncap that bottle until you are a housewarden.

Piercing your nails briefly into your forehead, you groan one last time. You had been working constantly for three days without breaks. Your memory about toxicology was brilliant compared to others but you still knew that even you were missing chunks and scraps of your knowledge. That is why it was written down, your mind whispers. Yes, that is why you had written and laminated note after note. To start again was weakening you bit by bit.

You pick up your tools again. The longer that you wallow, the longer you are not working. You start to stir the bumpy white powder when the front glass door of the botanical garden clicks open.

Jumping up, you grab your pen to – to fucking what? Teleport yourself? You glance down at the tiny, desperate eye of purple that is still breaching the surface of an otherwise prominent oil spill. Your magestone has one last spell in before you overblot. Are you really going to waste it? You glance up in the direction of the door, flora and herbage blocking it entirely from your sight.

You set your pen down. Maybe it was just an old building settling? You wait for something, a voice, footsteps, anything really. And it does come.

“Ya suuure this is where they are? I’m gettin real tired of all this walking.”

Huh? You know that voice.

“It is worth the look. If they are not in their bedroom or Pomefiore’s personal lab, this is the third place I elect to look.”

“And if they aren’t here?”

“Then, we will find a fourth location to look for them.” A loud, miffed groan responds to that.

Jade Leech and Floyd Leech, what are they doing here? You pass a glance to the candle burning on the desk. Perhaps you can snuff it out and hide. You can see the glow of their twin magic pens, using them as flashlights to navigate the botanical garden. Perhaps you really can hide if they are still unaware of you.

You puff up air in your mouth and make a move to blow out the candle. Yet, one last noise pricks your attention, a whimpered please, we’re sorry. Your eyes snap to look at the golden specks peeking through the shrubbery. No way.

Tiredness is curling around your mind, so you barely even feel how your legs begin to stumble towards the freckled light. Your body moves before your mind. You do not realize that your numb fingers have picked up your pen again. No way.

You push past the willowing leaves of plants and nudge poisonous flowers out of your path. Gradually, the shrubbery decreases in density and light stronger than your candle burns your eyes. You stumble and round past the last potted plant in your path. No way.

“Hey, look, it’s Pufferfishy! They were here, Jade!”

Floyd’s jovial tone is met with your anxious silence, gangly body hunched like you will fall over at any moment and face drawn into a Greek tragedy mask.

No way. No way. No way.

“Fufufu, it seems so. No need to seem so aghast, Pufferfish. We come bearing gifts.”

“Merry Christmas, Pufferfishy!!”

The morbid gifts the Leech twins are bestowing to you are Si and Am whose consciousnesses are kept unlidded by a very weak, thin thread. In matching fashion, a monolith of red is raining from their noses. Si looks like he has taken a fall cheek first into a mirror. Am, who seems unable to breath through his nose, has two of his bottom fangs missing. Their entire bodies are soaked wet, hair and ears pressed down by the weight of water. In their ripped clothes, there are random placed indents. Bite marks, you realize with horror. Jeweled blue eyes are feverishly avoiding looking at you.

And since you are unable to speak, Jade takes the opportunity, “found these two cats looking for a midnight swim. Quite unusual of their species. But Octavinelle will always have its doors open for any student.”

“(Name), we-we get it really. And we’re sorry. Please, please, just call off the twins and we’ll,” Si rambles at you.

His words are cut when Floyd — who is holding onto Si by his nightshirt collar — lifts him up and slams his face into the botanical garden’s cobblestone. There is a crunch like a log of uncooked pasta being snapped. Terrified, your hands and pen fly up to your mouth. When Si is lifted back up, his nose bridge is reshaped into a crescent.

“How rude. Quiet, hehehe, Pufferfishy and Jade are tryin to talk.”

At this, Jade and you finally lock eyes. Your terror and his rigid poise melt into each other. For a second, it feels you and Jade are sharing a pulse, trying to push your ideas at each other. Olive brown and yellow, so unnatural yet turning into your normal. You two stare and stare.

“L-Leech.”

“I gave that vial to you. So taking it from you is the same as stealing from me.”

“...”

“That is a great offense to me. My father always said that you keep what is yours close and if anyone breaches your hold, bite back. Things are no different here than they are in the Sea.”

“Please, get them out of here.”

“If I was wronged, I’d lash out with a torrent of unmitigated verbal abuse to break them down mentally, then bind them and drag them beneath water. Which I have done. For you. Because you and I were betrayed.”

“Please, I’m on the verge of overblotting.”

“No. You are going to bite back, even if it means you overblot. Right this.”

Your pulsing eyes finally slide away from Jade’s stare. They shuffle down but only to the tips of Si and Am’s lowered, wet heads before you get scared and move your gaze back into the comfort of Jade’s eyes. If you give them one more look, you are sure to overblot.

It feels like you are standing on a raised building, miles and miles above the ground. The platform is ice. If you infect your eyes with one wrong image or infect your mind with one wrong worry, you will slip.

You have enough common sense to know pleading with Floyd is a waste of breath. Face knit with pain, you beg, “I’ll never ask anything of you again. No contract. No advice. No favors or gifts. Just please leave with them.”

“Your arm.”

Your features’ wrinkles and creases deepen with confusion.

“Your arm is the most disgusting thing I’ve ever seen in my whole life. I almost puked looking at your grotesque flesh. Compared to the nightmare that is growing up in the Coral Sea, your arm is more unsightly than anything I’ve ever seen. Looking at it made me sick.”

You shake your head wildly back and forth. “Sevens, Leech, does it look like I fucking care? Get them out of here!”

As anger blooms on your face, Jade mimics that expression. As if to spite you, the eel-mer uses his strength to pick up Am by his collar and toss him into your feet. You ignore his pained groans like someone ignoring a bothersome, untrained dog pawing at their heels. “(Name), help.” A shiver runs up your spine.

“Your arm is your dedication to becoming Pomefiore’s housewarden. Do you think that is a person worthy of becoming housewarden?”

“I can still become Pomefiore’s housewarden! I know more about poison than anyone else in this school.”

“They stole from you. What I had given you as a –”

“I was fine before you came into my life!”

Anger spills off Jade’s face, sobering up.

Your chin is shuddering rapidly. Despite the heaving of your chest, you refuse to cry. You lock your trembling lips together and plead at Jade with damp eyes, officially done talking.

His gloves fingers slowly unfurl from the tightened stones of frustration they once were. He casts a judgmental look at both Si and Am. You never even knew Jade could look so vexed before, as if things were out of his control. His eyes gleam with the hot fire in them.

“Perhaps, you are right. Perhaps,” Jade looks at his brother and kills his train of thought. Mind unclogged from wrath, he turns right back into the mastermind Hunt dubbed him as. “Pufferfish, if you can’t become Pomefiore’s housewarden, then what is left for you?”

Huh?

“Can you really find a reason to keep going on if you don’t win this upcoming summer exam?”

Then, like an explosion, the thought strikes you. A deep breath flares through you. Previous hesitation to avoid seeing Si and Am is gone. Your voice is meek and clogged with mucus. “N-No.”

The thought motivates you to brandish your pen, tremors reducing. You hold it horizontal to the front of your chest, a violet cosmic spell turning and rotating around the gem stone. In what should be clear lilac and gray, black blot congeals like a twisted lava lamp, cracked open and slipping all over you. A nebulous disaster twisting over your ribs and heart.

“No. I can’t.”

When you release the accumulating spell and your vision goes white, you regret nothing about overblotting.

Because you would rather die than not be Pomefiore’s housewarden. And since that future has become impossible through Si and Am’s efforts, you can go all out and die. Right here. Right now.

Death is rather peaceful too, you come to realize. It feels like a warm embrace, sentimentally holding you tight and brushing a hand over your face. And for some reason, it speaks too. From the white: “Hey, you on the other side, give me back my Pufferfish.”

At the nickname, you jolt alive.

Glass and vines are the first thing you see but it is void compared to the blot in your mouth that you have to spit out. Ebony egg yolks glide down your chin. With vengeance, you throw yourself on your shoulder so as to not choke on the substance. Someone has their hand around your dominant arm and you think your spine is resting on their leg. You want to check but — but, more sludge comes up and blankets the cobblestone. Your entire body rattles with the force as you take one shuddering breath and then puke some more.

“Good, clear your throat.”

Listening to this strange voice, you puke for a fourth time. When you have finally stabilized yourself, you fall back into Death’s embrace with a groan. When Death greets you with his two mismatched eyes, you frown.

“J-Jade?”

“Here I save your life and you don’t even seem happy to see me.” His lips mimic your frown with a bit more dramatism.

“Because,” you hack, fake anger on your tongue “, because I’m racking up quite a debt with you. Azul will have me on a leash by third year.”

“Ideally, I will be the one holding the leash.” He says, tenderly swiping a bit of blot off your chin.

“Shut up,” you hiss, not in the mood for his jokes. Tired bones and bruised skin leans deeper into Jade’s embrace. He does not make light of it, at least. You were expecting teasing piled onto teasing. “Si and Am?”

He cups a hand to block your wandering eyes and starts to faintly smile. “Thoroughly disbanded for the time being. As always, you were quite methodical in ensuring your goal. Though, this path is quite atypical for applying as Pomefoire’s housewarden.”

You chuckle at that before a sharp pain in your arm breaks your mirth. Erratically, your middle finger twitches and you wonder if you severed a nerve in your arm. Your studying is interrupted when Jade brings a hand up and down the length of your arm. His next words are not mocking or duplicitous.

“I,” his words pause heavy in his throat. “I did not mean what I said about your arm earlier. I don’t find it —“

“It’s alright,” you interrupt. “I’ll never be ashamed of it, no matter what anyone says.” Hating how Jade looks a bit troubled, you try to revive the previous atmosphere. “Plus, your opinion doesn’t matter to me that much, Leech. Don’t flatter yourself.”

The lie makes the eel-mer regain his usual tone, “yet who asked who for their opinions on poison?”

“I asked to use your intellect, nothing more.”

“So I truly am just a pawn to you. How cruel.”

It seems like you two could go on forever in your banter, which is why Floyd — whose irritable disposition at being thoroughly ignored has been snowballing — decides enough is enough.

“Pufferfishy was so cool when overblotting, right Jaido?” The sudden voice makes you jolt in Jade’s arms until a new train of thought washes over you. Your overblot. “Almost knocked one of my teeth loose, Puffy~ Would’ve squeezed you for that one.”

Your overblot. Your overblot! What did you look like? What had you said? Did you cut an impressive enough visage to match with Schoenheit? You stare at Floyd. Curiosity pushes like spiders trying to crawl out your mouth. “Wh-what did I look like?”

“You looked —“ like an angel.

“Ya had this big halo over your head. All sticky and inky. Your clothes were all drapey and purple. Patterns all up your arms.” Enraptured and delighted, you listen as Floyd plots out each part of your overblot to you, using his own body as an indicator. “And this totally radioactive spike as your pen!” You feel like you are on cloud nine.

“Was it? Was it more impressive than you know who?”

“I say you have both Azul and Vil beat for most imposing overblot.”

“Ya, Azul was all cryin’ and whiny. You were all, agh I’ll burn out your insides! You filth!” Floyd breaks off into giggles. “Pufferfishy has always been interesting since Orientation. Course your overblot is gonna be super cool.”

You preen at their words. Yet, in the aftermath of the praise, you start to come down from that buzzing high. “Wait. Wait, I can’t have this get out.” It could potentially disqualify you from running in the exams for housewarden.

“Don’t worry, I will have Azul write up an NDA tomorrow to be signed by all of us, Si and Am included. Besides a few damages that can be magiced away, you are in clear for continuing to work towards your goal.”

You breathe a sigh of relief. It is troublesome to sign any confidentiality agreement with Ashengrotto but this has slowly become your new normal. In your first year, you would have combatively against this relationship you have built with the Octavinelle dorm. Hesitantly, you go to leave Jade’s arms when —

“Jade, holy Seven! Your forehead.” You do not know how your eyes slide over it before. In an arch over Jade’s right eyebrow is a deep laceration. It is impressive in depth because a constant river of red is curling down his face in the same way the black strand on the right of his face does.

“It’s only a scratch. As Floyd said, you were quite vengeful.”

“That’s not a scratch. I know wounds; that’s going to need stitches.”

“Oh my, will it really? How do you plan to make it up to me? Such a deep wound; I will surely need a nurse to take care of me.”

“Ugh, be serious.” You start pressing your sleeve to stop the flow.

“But I am being serious, Pufferfish. To be honest, I feel my vision in my right eye is subpar now.”

“It’ll be subpar when I stick my finger in it, Leech.”

“Back to using my surname, are we? How tragic. I’ll surely miss that stutter you had calling out my first name.”

“Leech, Leech, Leech.”

In the background, Floyd Leech rolls his own uninjured eyes, annoyed at how your banter has started up again. Sevens, get a room, he thinks.

Rationally, you know that you no longer have even a drop of blot left sitting inside either yourself or your magestone but —

“How do I look? Do you think they score on outfits too? What am I saying; this is professor Crewel, that probably is an unspoken criteria that I was supposed to meet … This buttoned up has a bleach stain on sleeve, fuck. Leech, swap shirts with me.”

But you feel like you are choking on that syrupy black substance once again.

Jade chuckles at your evident panic. Always an open book aren’t you? He tightly grips your wrists when you leap at him to unbutton his shirt and smiles, enjoying your distress. “I’m terribly afraid it’s not the right color of lilac to represent Pomefiore. Plus, I’m much bigger than you.”

“I can just tuck the extra into my slacks,” you bargain. Your hands rattle fruitlessly in his cuffing grip. Now that he says that … you start to worry if the wrong shade of violet could make Crewel sicker than a bleach stain. You feel like you are choking down on a chunky milkshake of blot.

“Ugh.” Uncaring of his reaction, you start to fall into Jade Leech. Forehead connecting to sternum, you stay there as he holds your wrists halfway above your head. Since he held you after your overblot, physical contact between you two was oddly becoming normal. And this entire thing does feel like a second overblot. “I feel worse than ever.”

“Now, I’m quite positive that you have felt worse.”

“Nope, this is the worst.”

“In only a couple minutes, you will go out there and choke. Just imagine it.”

“Die, Leech.” You stomp on his Oxfords. You won’t injure him but you still hope to dirty his expensive footwear.

For the exam, they have a system of how people walk in. First, every Pomefiore student participating will stand outside. Then one by one, they are moved into a small room behind the auditorium, waiting until their name is called, and move onto the stage. Sometimes, Pomefiore students brought along support. After the betrayal from Si and Am, the role unfortunately fell to Jade Leech. It is just you and him in the room; same as it has always been under contract.

You squirm so you can rest your cheek into his chest, still locked by his grip on your wrists. “I’m gonna be so sick right now.”

An overblot was the catalyst of all negative emotions. You misjudged that it would dry you out of all insecurities. The grip of the Evil Queen holding you by the ribs until all the black liquid sponges out from black rivulets in your pores. Turns out you still have a bottomless cocktail of worry and stress left.

Jade was on the other end of the spectrum. He was quite assured that you would be winning. It had been a foreseeable outcome before you even asked to make the contract. When Azul and him schemed about their upcoming third year, you were substituted into the role of Pomefiore’s housewarden as naturally as Silver was substituted into the role of Diasomnia’s housewarden. All hypothetical yet assured. All calculated by some of the sharpest minds in Night Raven College to come to fruition.

Jade looks down at you, face on his shirt. How cute, your face even has that puffing expression when you worry yourself to the verge of puking. He smiles at you. It is unseen and genuine, far from odious.

“You have always been so interesting, (Name).”

Flee, your mind screams at you. You make a move to stumble backwards but you have forgotten that you are still in a bind, Jade’s slippery hands around your wrists. That odious, scheming grin returns to mask over his affection.

Jade leans in close, suffocating you, dangerous teeth gleaming. So close that the scent of mint toothpaste spills into your nose. Gleefully, he holds your locked arms out like he is pulling the wings of a butterfly to pin to a board.

“No, interesting is an understatement. You are magnetizing like a flame. Like watching someone burn alive.

“On Orientation, it was certainly amusing to be around humans. A new experience for me, Floyd, and Azul as mermen. But it grew old. Got repetitive, hearing your soul is Savanaclaw, your soul is Ignihyde, your soul is Octavinelle. You.” His eyes shine like a lightning flash, yellow painting his eyelashes. “You were like an explosion of fire, so much more powerful than any brief glimmer of light. I haven’t been able to look away since then.” And then, he lets you go.

With the force of yourself and what you suspect is also Jade pushing you away, you fumble awkwardly in the air for a bit. What stops you from cracking your head open is the single table in the room. Tailbone colliding, you desperately grip the surface behind you for stability. Ouch!

You look down at your hand. A bead of blood blooms on your index finger like a poisonous mistletoe berry. Damn, is the glass of your project at least still intact? Fretful, you go to examine the table when Jade pulls you back in by the wrist.

(It is odd. Since collaborating with the eel-mer, peace has been as rare and brief as a shooting star due to it. He has stressed you beyond belief. He has left you grappling for the true intentions of his words. Where Si and Am tricked you, it is odd that the one who openly speaks of your failures and challenges you has been more genuine to you than anyone else.)

Truthfully, you want to glare at him but you just stare. Those nocuous words leave you with a tingling sensation through your veins. Something warm and intoxicating, to be regarded as an image worth viewing. You watch as Jade lifts your bloodied, pricked finger to his lips. Pushes his tongue out and laps up the berry dot.

Oh.

“Leech?”

Divus Crewel calls your name.

You glare, metaphorical spikes flaring around your skin. Leave it to Jade Leech to calculate the perfect moment to confess yet not confess at all. Leave it to him to say words that you have to filter through a sieve to reveal the meaning. What a sly bastard, you muses.

“What are you standing around here for? Everything you’ve worked for is waiting for you.”

Funny of him to say that when he is still gripping your wrist.

“We’re talking about this later.”

“In the botanical gardens? Or perhaps Pomefiore’s laboratory? Will you finally concede and enter Monstro Longue?”

“Don’t push it. I’d never pay for those overpriced drinks.”

“Who said I’d let you pay?” He finally gives you back your hand.

“Hmph.”

You rotate quickly on your heel. From the table, you grab your project. Thank the Seven that is still intact despite the pressure your hand had placed on it before. The glass pufferfish cradled in your hand shines. Inside the jade green glass, the lethal poison sits waiting. From the pursed lips of the fish, you will take the poison and serve it to a dragon. Your heart pounds excitedly in your chest. There is one last loose end though – Turning to Jade, you question, “If I lose, did you three decide who would have me?” You have been dying to hear this.

“Yes, we all picked from the three things you outlined in the contract.”

“You’re splitting them up?”

“Yes. Azul will take your magic. Floyd is arranged to ransack your room, taking all your possessions. And I, I will be the receiver of your life and freedom.”

A snake manifests in your stomach, lashing at that sentence. You gulp, flustered at the venom in his tone. “How sad you will never have that,” you tease.

“I suppose that you should go out there and win.”

“I suppose I just might.”

You two share something warm in your mimicking smiles. And before Divus Crewel can call your name again, you rush out to the auditorium.

Glancing up from your cosmetic mirror, you watch Floyd sleep.

You never thought you would see a body look like that, limbs angular and disfigured. Bones rotated as if they had suffered a fall from a great height. Your knowledge on eel anatomy was limited. Perhaps, it was eel-mer flexibility that got him to comfortably sleep with his hand twisted around his back and touching his ankle?

“Do you sleep like that too or are acrobatics just Floyd’s specialities?”

The other eel-mer perks up at your voice. Another thing you learned about eels was their habit to bite. Jade stops sinking his teeth into your hip to answer, “A mixture of both. Though, I can assure that I am not as unruly to sleep next to, if you ever are hoping to find out.”

You take the pointed end of your makeup brush and dig it into his temple. As he whines of all dreadful things about your cruelty, you continue applying your blush. Whining from him would have unnerved you months ago.

To be honest, a lot of things you have been adapting to about Jade Leech were once very surprising. The whining, the biting, the clinging. You wished Floyd’s future significant other the best because the clinging (whether skin to skin or being shadowed constantly) was horrendous with Jade. Red powder brightens your cheeks. You were even surprised that the meticulously punctual Jade hated getting out of bed.

“You know, you’re going to be late to Orientation if you keep nuzzling into me all morning. Floyd is acceptable. You are the vice-housewarden of Octavinelle. You cannot neglect your first years.”

“And you are the housewarden of Pomefiore, but who’s lingering in who’s dorm now, hm?”

Your body hums lightly at the pleasant reminder. You almost want to beg him to say it again and again till his tongue falls out. Instead, you purposely make a lot of noise with your makeup tools as you drop the blush on the nightstand and grab your lipsticks. “See, but I’m up and preparing for the day. And you are not.”

Jade makes no response and goes back to gnawing on the slip of skin revealed between underwear and tank-top.

You roll your eyes as you start to outline your lip shape in a deep brown. You do admit that you will miss him when he eventually decides to get up for the morning. The position you have is nice: you, sitting on the edge of his bed, applying makeup, as he wraps his arms around your waist, body still tucked under the sheets.

“You truly are one bothersome eel, Jade.”

You apply the last bit of clear lipstick from a jeweled black tube. Rotating one nude thigh on the bed, you maneuver Jade so his head is in your lap.

“Spending all morning in bed, hiding Dire Crowley’s letter to the housewardens so Azul has to rush his own preparations, texting me this morning, oh (Name) please there’s an emergency at our dorm, please come. Didn’t know I was dating such a villain.”

“You knew,” Jade smiles up at you.

“… Yeah, I knew.” You lean down to give him a kiss which quickly escalates into more. Who can blame the two of you though, after a long separation on summer break?

Eel blood is poisonous. It is a biological fact that molds him to an image of worship in your hands. It reminds you of all you two struggled through – the first person you had opened up to and let him inject you with a thing as deadly as love. You gently cup his face, a stroking thumb on his cheek, and kiss each other like it will be your last kiss. All kisses with him were like that, infinitely finite.

Blood floods into the kiss. He does not even wilt when you bite down hard on his tongue. You feel a droplet break from the limited space between you and wipe it away with your thumb. He takes his own thumb, nuzzling it over the skin of your neck. You poison him; he poisons you.

You pull away, pupils blown, with a new lip tint.

“He-Here,” you say. Most of your purple lipstick has rubbed off onto Jade’s smug face. The red-violet mix is an intoxicating look on him. When he smiles with his full teeth, your stomach stirs at the blood pooling between enamels.

Breathlessly, you hand him a jeweled white lipstick tube. He pecks two quick kisses on your lips, looking like the cat who got the cream. “The top layer of my lipstick is poisonous. Apply this before your lips start feeling numb or you’ll lose the ability to talk for two days.” Your words do not even reduce the joy he feels having you in his arms.

“Oh dear, it sounds like you want that to happen to poor me.”

“I’m handing you the antidote, aren’t I?”

“Pomefiore’s housewarden is so cruel~” His faux look of sadness in slanted eyebrows and pouted lips is almost painfully predictable now. Still, he goes to take it and — oh, this is a bit unpredictable of him.

Uncapping the lip balm, he runs it over the top and bottom of your lip. Awestruck, you watch his calculating face. He caps it again and wastes no time pulling you into more sloppy kisses.

“Jade,” you pant. He hums underneath you, loving how his wandering claws are ruining your once tame hair, loving how you say his first name. “You definitely got enough of the antidote.”

He starts whining again! You laugh as you move your thigh off the bed and return to going over your makeup.

Shortly after, Jade falls into a silence. You start checking out each minuscule detail on your makeup. Symmetry no matter how you angle your face is key, Vil once said. Vanity is not a main concern of yours but your first appearance as housewarden is vital. The housewarden whose poison killed a dragon in six days. When they eventually put you in the textbooks, it would be best not to look sloppy. Perhaps, you can even convince them to do an article on your arm. Jade had been trying to convince you to publicize it more. Though the bandages were on today, who's to say they have to be on tomorrow. Hell you can —

“About your overblot…”

Your train of thought hops off the track and is engulfed in one giant flame.

You hate the way your body betrays you. Posture leaps up into a straight line. Jade definitely feels the way your spine becomes tense at his words. You know he can feel it as his forehead is pressed to the center of your back now.

After everything, you two had swept in under the rug. Decreeing it as a non-disclosable talking point. You wonder why he is breaching contract today of all days. Did the sadist want you overblot again on Orientation, thinking about the past?

You stay silent, hoping he will drop it.

“You shouted … shouted that you would be nothing if you weren’t Pomefiore’s housewarden. I just wanted to let you know before it all starts, that you’re everything to me. Housewarden or not.”

Your body is treasonous. It should be exiled and thrown out of the kingdom of your mind. You wish you could strip yourself of it because it is betraying you again. And you know Jade can feel the traitorous actions of your body, as your spine curls and your shoulders start to shake hysterically with your cries.

Hiding your emotions has never been a strong trait of yours.

As each muscle convulses and shakes, Jade elects to press a few more kisses on the ridges of your vertebrates.

“… Fuck you,” you gasp out wetly. “Now, I have to redo this stupid makeup.” Violet glitter leaks from your eyes.

Knowing what you truly mean, Jade smiles and presses a long-lasting, poisonous kiss on your sobbing skin.

#jade leech x reader #jade leech #twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #twisted wonderland jade leech #twisted wonderland jade leech x reader

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nudystar · 8 months

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𝐒𝐀𝐓𝐎𝐌𝐈𝐀 𝐏𝐓 𝟐 !

♡ ⸺ mia x gojo; aka tall, bastard bf + sleepy, clingy gf

♡ ⸺ setting: college au (yes stolen from kai !)

𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐒 ! @ki-yuuu @sasukessusanoo @ivanari @stqrriichiigo @morosis-haze

₊˚⊹♡ ngl, I feel like they give your typical 2000s chick flick romance. you know with that one couple who’s so in love with each other and everyone is just sick of them

₊˚⊹♡ when I say these two are clingy, they are CLINGYYYYY. they’re always at each other’s hip smiling like a goof, laughing up a storm, or simply walking while sneaking glances at each other

₊˚⊹♡ you can sometimes tell that they did something stupid cause one of them, most of the time both, have a dopey smile

₊˚⊹♡ don’t know which is worse, when they’re around each other or when they’re separated. when they’re together they’re telling each other “I love you”, calling each other pet names, and kissing making out. you literally have to pry one of them off of the other cause they REFUSE to let go

₊˚⊹♡ when they’re separated, just put some headphones on to ignore them. every two minutes is “I miss my baby” “I miss my man”. y’all literally just said bye to each other not even a minute ago….

₊˚⊹♡ in a circle with their friends (kiyuu, yuvesa, ivanari, etc), everybody would point out that gojo and mia would have kids first. only cause of how affectionate they are gah leeeee. mia fighting for herself and saying she refused to be a parent at her age and here go gojo with that stupid ass grin on his face. the way gojo lookin, you not beating the allegations pookie

₊˚⊹♡ mia and gojo share days on buying each other’s small snacks. one day it’ll be mia and the next will be gojo, sometimes they’ll surprise each other and buy snacks three days in a row

₊˚⊹♡ gojo always flirting with mia like he’s still tryna get with her. it’s literally so cute and always have mia smiling so shyly. literally gojo’s favorite hobby is flirting with mia and annoying geto. don’t worry sometimes she’ll return the energy, when she’s not hiding away

₊˚⊹♡ when they were first crushing on each other, it was a game of frustrating ass fbi. mainly cause mia and gojo rarely crossed paths so they wouldn’t see each other often

₊˚⊹♡ mia would tell her friend’s about gojo, find his socials, allat and it would be the same on gojo’s side. they both really liked each other but didn’t know if the other was liked then the same way

₊˚⊹♡ but behind closed doors? oh they are both squealing and gushing over each other like little kids. their friends hearing all of the crushing, squealing, and gushing ofc !

₊˚⊹♡ they both would wave hello and always acted shy around each other until gojo stepped up and finally spoke to mia. gojo introduced himself and ask mia if she would have lunch with him and ofc mia couldn’t say no. she gave him her number so they could plan out the time and date

₊˚⊹♡ during the crush phase, they would have a lot of late night phone calls. they would be on the phone talking about any and everything they could find, until it’s seven am and the birds are chirping

₊˚⊹♡ yes they were the ones to say “you hang up first” “no you hang up first”. please just hang up and sleep I BEG

₊˚⊹♡ after some months of crushing, and yabbering in their friend’s ears about each other, mia confessed her feelings and told gojo that she might be in love. gojo did nothing but celebrate and told her she felt the same way. though he was way more obvious than mia but y’all know she a lil…..so she don’t be catching hints like that

₊˚⊹♡ small dates are happening about two to three times a week. to help relieve stress and stay connected, they would have a sip and paint, movie night, do puzzles, anything to help ease the mind. sometimes it would get competitive ngl

₊˚⊹♡ if you wanna find where these two lovebirds are, check mia’s apartment. they’re likely taking a nap on the bed together, stuck together like glue I’m telling ya

#I love how I’m my own hater 💀#being the narrator of my own ship is so fun 🤣#˚₊‧꒰ა satomia ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

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padfootswhiskers · 7 months

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@remadoramicrofics I wrote this for thc and it doesn’t follow any of your prompts but it is remadora and it is a microfic so 😭

read on ao3 or under the cut

When Remus is six years old, his father tells him their garden has an infestation of Wraithen. He ropes him into helping, but Remus is tired—it’s only been two days since the full moon—and he settles himself onto the damp ground while his father sets traps for the bug-like creatures.

“Wraithen love trees,” he tells Remus. His eyes are sad when he looks at him. They always are, these days. “Especially in the summers. But they can’t stay. The wood poisons them.”

“Why do they come at all?” he wonders.

His father looks thoughtful. “I suppose they can’t help themselves.” He disposes of the caught Wraithen in the dewy grass.

Sometimes Remus closes his palms over them, just to see how long they’ll stay.

When Remus is eight years old, the Muggle boy who’s just moved in next door invites him over.

“I can’t,” he says automatically. Sleeping over at friends’ houses is for normal children after all, not boys like him.

“Why not?”

He knows how it’ll go now. The boy will tell his mother, and his mother will talk, then others will talk, and then his parents will have to take their strange Lupin boy to another home, another town.

Remus can’t tell him—not the truth, at least. He won’t believe him anyway. Remus’ parents have taught him what Muggles know and what they don’t, but the boy looks so disappointed he can’t help himself.

When Remus is twelve years old, two of his three best friends in the world corner him in the Gryffindor Dorm Room.

“You’re a werewolf,” Sirius says.

“We worked it out,” says James.

They are his best friends, and they are his only friends, and his heart is racing so quickly in his chest he thinks he might get sick all over them.

“Oh,” Remus says, stricken. He fumbles. “I—please. You can’t tell anyone—please—”

“We’re not going to,” Sirius says coolly. He glances at James, who grins. “In fact, we have an idea.”

It’s a mad, mad idea. Remus is a sensible boy, and he knows he should shoot them down now, grinning foolishly at him in the dark. “I can’t let you do that,” he tries.

But James reasons, “Why not?”

Something balloons in his chest, light and dangerous—like hope—and he finds he can’t help himself.

When Remus is fifteen years old, he nearly kills his classmate. They tell him how close it was, that Snape glimpsed him, even.

“That,” James says after, “was stupid, Padfoot.”

“He deserved it,” Sirius says. His mouth twitches. “Maybe not my brightest idea, though.”

They burst into peals of shocked laughter, Peter joining in unsurely. Privately, Remus thinks it isn’t really funny. When they begin planning their next full moon adventure, he thinks he will sit it out in protest.

I can’t put anyone else at risk, he thinks.

But the next week brings with it an attack on Diagon Alley and Sirius getting disowned, and he finds he can’t help himself.

When Remus is thirty-seven years old, Dumbledore dies.

Several things storm through his chest, grief and anger and guilt. Shame. It aches so much he thinks he might rip himself open if it granted relief.

“That didn’t fix anything, you know,” he finds himself saying. “That…show.” He runs a hand through thinning hair, shaking uncontrollably. “I am not being unreasonable.”

Tonks’ eyes are shining in her face, almost unbearably bright to look at. “Fine,” she says.

“I can’t,” he says. “Any of it—I can’t be with you. I can’t kiss you—I can’t marry you.” He breathes hard. “I can’t love you.”

Tonks doesn’t ask him why. He supposes there’s no need for it.

He marries her a week later.

Remus was never a cruel boy. Most of the time, the Wraithen flew away unharmed.

Still, sometimes they didn’t.

#my fic #remadora #remus x tonks #remadora microfics #remus lupin #nymphadora tonks

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nicklloydnow · 11 months

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“Nuclear war is seven minutes away, and might be over in an afternoon. How far away is nuclear disarmament? We are waiting. And the weapons are waiting.

What is the only provocation that could bring about the use of nuclear weapons? Nuclear weapons. What is the priority target for nuclear weapons? Nuclear weapons. What is the only established defense against nuclear weapons? Nuclear weapons. How do we prevent the use of nuclear weapons? By threatening to use nuclear weapons. And we can't get rid of nuclear weapons, because of nuclear weapons. The intransigence, it seems, is a function of the weapons themselves. Nuclear weapons can kill a human being a dozen times over in a dozen different ways; and, before death - like certain spiders, like the headlights of cars - they seem to paralyze.

Indeed they are remarkable artifacts. They derive their power from an equation: when a pound of uranium-235 is fissioned, the liberated mass within its 1,132,000,000,000,000,000,000,000 atoms is multiplied by the speed of light squared - with the explosive force, that is to say, of 186,000 miles per second times 186,000 miles per second. Their size, their power, has no theoretical limit. They are biblical in their anger. They are clearly the worst thing that has ever happened to the planet, and they are mass-produced, and inexpensive. In a way, their most extraordinary single characteristic is that they are manmade. They distort all life and subvert all freedoms. Somehow, they give us no choice. Not a soul on earth wants them, but here they all are.

I am sick of them - I am sick of nuclear weapons. And so is everybody else. When, in my dealings with this strange subject, I have read too much or thought too long I experience nausea, clinical nausea. In every conceivable sense (and then, synergistically, in more senses than that) nuclear weapons make you sick. What toxicity, what power, what range. They are there and I am here - they are inert, I am alive - yet still they make me want to throw up, they make me feel sick to my stomach; they make me feel as if a child of mine has been out too long, much too long, and already it is getting dark. This is appropriate, and good practice. Because I will be doing a lot of that, I will be doing a lot of throwing up, if the weapons fall and I live.

Every morning, six days a week, I leave the house and drive a mile to the flat where I work. For seven or eight hours I am alone. Each time I hear a sudden whining in the air, or hear one of the more atrocious impacts of city life, or play host to a certain kind of unwelcome thought, I can't help wondering how it might be. Suppose I survive. Suppose my eyes aren't pouring down my face, suppose I am untouched by the hurricane of secondary missiles that all mortar, metal, and glass has abruptly become: suppose all this. I shall be obliged (and it's the last thing I'll feel like doing) to retrace that long mile home, through the fire-storm, the remains of the thousand-mile-an-hour winds, the warped atoms, the groveling dead. Then - God willing, if I still have the strength, and, of course, if they are still alive - I must find my wife and children and I must kill them.

What am I to do with thoughts like these? What is anyone to do with thoughts like these?” (pages 2 - 4)

“The process of nuclear inversion is complete when one realizes that the correct attitude to nuclear war is one of suicidal defeatism. Let no one think that it is thinkable. Dispel any interest in surviving, in lasting. Have no part of it. Be ready to turn in your hand. For myself and my loved ones, I want the heat, which comes at the speed of light. I don't want to have to hang about for the blast, which idles along at the speed of sound. There is only one defence against nuclear attack, and that is a cyanide pill.” (pages 16, 17)

“Meanwhile they squat on our spiritual lives. There may be a nuclear "priesthood," but we are the supplicants, and we have no faith. The warheads are our godheads. Nuclear weapons could bring about the Book of Revelation in a matter of hours; they could do it today. Of course, no dead will rise; nothing will be revealed (nothing meaning two things, the absence of everything and a thing called nothing). Events that we call "acts of God" - floods, earthquakes, eruptions - are flesh wounds compared to the human act of nuclear war: a million Hiroshimas. Like God, nuclear weapons are free creations of the human mind. Unlike God, nuclear weapons are real. And they are here.” (page 27)

“The A-bomb is a Z-bomb, and the arms race is a race between nuclear weapons and ourselves. It is them or us. What do nukes do? What are they for? Since when did we all want to kill each other? Nuclear weapons deter a nuclear holocaust by threatening a nuclear holocaust, and if things go wrong then that is what you get: a nuclear holocaust. If things don't go wrong, and continue not going wrong for the next millennium of millennia (the boasted forty years being no more than forty winks in cosmic time), you get . . . What do you get? What are we getting?” (page 28)

#amis #martin amis #einstein’s monsters #nuclear war #nuclear weapons #orange herald #rds 37 #castle bravo #ivy mike #russia ukraine war #wwiii

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jinkicake · 2 years

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SGDHHD no yehs when I saw Barbatos I was like hehe funny that a god is named after a demon but Venti is literally gluten free catholic like,,, ngl forgot Germany and all of Europe was😭 like someone was saying something weird and SOMEONE REPLIED W A CLOSE UP OF BARBRA AND SHE HAS CROSSES ALL IVER HER AND INSIDE THE CATHEDRAL 💀💀IN GAME LORE BARBATOS HAS NOTHING TO DO W CROSSES😭😭 hoyoverse let me write for this game bc all the plot holes piss me off. Like the entire Liyue arc was a waste of time actually like if we didn’t meet all my fav characters; ESPECIALLY XINYAN happy birthday sis😔💕 I would have Been mad. Bc Zhongli is so DUMB he literally throw not only his nation but all of teyvat into like a economic crisis bc he wanted a vacation 😐 he’s so lucky he’s got bc I was mad asf when I finished it. Bro you did ALL THAT when you could have just said lmao y’all I’m out like Venti did… you caused everyone so much trouble AND DIDNT HELP… if I punch a god is that a ticket straight to hell??? Bc Venti is the best archon out of the strongest 3 and probably all 7! Bc he helped w storm terror like he didn’t rly abandon his people bc they still worship him and think highly of him- even people outside of mondstat for the wind gliders- like no way is the green drunk twink the most responsible…. Im sick of the “ sorry I can’t say I have a contract” stuff too bc if you have the traveler a Glock the game would be 20 mins. Of my boy got his villian arc they would speak up then😤 like he has to run errands for people with nobody really helping to find his twin and dainsleif fine ass jumped into the abyss so we don’t see him no more, and Venti says so much while saying s o little☺️🔪 will talk for 30 mins and you still have no information like if he can’t tell us what’s wrong then tell me who’s holding y’all hostage so I can go beat them up!! Like pls is Venti knows every song past present and future( which I love that timelines ms tuff he shared w obey me barbatos and they’re both green) he definitely knows some important stuff that will help us change fate🙂( Also sorry for brain rot I have SO much to say about these parasites taking up space in my brain)

brain rot is the only thing that gets me through my week LOL i love reading it

VENTI... A GLUTEN FREE CATHOLIC?! PLEASEEEE honestly, i find out new things every day with your brain rots bc as much as i try to be a lore player i read all the dialogue and then forget it the second i finish a quest sigh.... no amount of youtube explanation videos can keep me updated

NO BC I HAVE SOME CHOICE WORDS W ZHONGLI and honestly, its only bc i was pissed he would always make me pay!!!! but i wasnt all that mad bc then childe would give me money #hearteyes ... i get zhongli wanted a break and he so deserved it but i did side eye him at the fake death hes so dramatic..... i love it

venti is the strongest of the three I AGREE..... but i have to say i just know Tsaritsa is going to be the baddest bitch and i am so excited bc shes going to be everything to me like i dont know what she is doing or what she is plotting but ill be on her side through it all!

oh speaking of drunk venti.... i know they make him so soft but I love seeing fanart of him during the catalyst like unhinged venti might have to be my favorite.... even if i do fall asleep during his dialogues im sorry that he talks and talks and talks... his voice is cute tho!

the connections between both barbatos..... theres something there but my brain cant connect the dots.... obey me seven sins equals seven archons confirmed, the end.... but add barbatos take out BEEL >:-)

#sarahandoikawatalkshit

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cassothepoet · 1 year

Text

Father of child

When I was four, my father had brought my immediate family over to America. We were staying at the house of my grandparents that really wasn’t my grandparents, while we looked for a place to stay. I had been attacked and mauled by a stray dog that nearly tore my left ear off, and chewed up the left side of my face. My bottom left lip was ripped and split apart, stretching almost to my hanging ear, making me look like I was half of joker. I was rushed to the hospital covered in blood with no medical and my mother came in crying with my favorite foods and snacks in efforts to cheer me up, yet she couldn’t bring herself to a smile. To this day I still have the scar on my lower lip that never did heal correctly.

When I was five, my father would take me everywhere. He would often scold me for leaning on the glass in jewelry shops, or jumping in puddles. We would go to many vendors and stores, and he’d always bargain for the cheaper prices.

When I was seven, my father bought me a pair of white sketchers that light up because I begged him for it. I wore them to school the next day and got them dirty, and out of fear from his anger I rushed home before he did. I took a brush and some soap and proceeded to wash them the same way I watched my mother hand wash everything, and as an extra step I soaked the shoes in water. Of course I could only do the best, my tiny little hands could do. My father came home to my shoes hanging with a puddle underneath it, and stormed into the room and beat my older brother for his irresponsibility of being my keeper. My brother resented me for years because of that, but that made him more attentive to my well-being . That day, the lights had died out.

When I was ten, my father found me lying on my bed ten minutes after school had started. I lied to him and told him I was sick, because all I wanted to do was stay home and play games on my PlayStation all day. He didn’t come and sit on my bedside to feel my forehead for a fever, nor did he ask for symptoms. It was almost like as if he didn’t know what to do, but he just took my word for it and left. I overheard him talking to my mother on the phone telling her that I was sick, and asking what he should do. From his responses it sounded like my mother just gave up and let me get away with my blatant lie. when she came home from work my mother had an obvious frustration towards me because I was miraculously feeling much better. she was holding a grocery bag with ingredients to my favorite dinner, but for some reason she didn’t use using any of them at all that night.

When I was fifteen, I had overdosed on psychedelics and found myself handcuffed to the frames of my hospital bed, a neck brace, and bruises on my chest from the male nurses trying to hold me down as I fought back in my psychotic state. When I was finally sober, my father walked into my hospital room. He didn’t come and sit on my bedside to check if I was okay, despite having chairs available. Instead he just stood there, close enough to hear him talk softly. He didn’t raise his voice, in fact he didn’t say much at all. He simply examined me for a bit before making eye contact, and out from his mouth he uttered, “I am disappointed.” Then he left. I overheard my father trying to pull words of comfort to my mother as I could hear her uncontrollably sobbing. She had no snacks, no grocery bag, and she couldn’t even bring herself to walk in and see me. Judging from what I hear, i don’t think she had a smile on her either. At that moment I had lost it. I was internally screaming, yelling for my father. “Dad, please come back. can’t you just beat me, I’d rather have you break my arms and legs instead of hearing that from you. Can you just beat me, please.”to this day, I still have the scar on my bottom right lip where my canine tooth had pierced.

A week later of not speaking with my father, he bought me a new phone to replace my broken one because I asked. My father took me everywhere, and had asked me which of the watches looked best in the glass of the jewelry shop. We went to many vendors and stores, and I jumped over the puddles to keep my brand new shoes clean.

A month later I came home to my mother cooking my favorite dinner, we ate and laughed and talked about things and I even asked my dad to buy me a car when I get my license. He agreed. That night, the house felt like a home.

Then a year later my father left. He didn’t explain why, but he said something about being called to his homeland.

I may have been a teenager with a lot more understanding of why things happen, or why they were the way they were, but I was angry at my father and I didn’t know why. The home that I just recently got back had started to fall apart once again, and I could feel the separation between us brothers. We did everything in secret and never really spoke to each other at the house, we never talked about how our day was, or have said good morning or goodnight. I was forced to have no father figure in the house and left to figure things out on my own, but it wasn’t like I ever went to my father for anything anyway.

He was never the type of parent to give me advice before my first date, but be the one who would give me a ride there. He would never speak about how he felt and his emotions, but would often cry at night. He never helped me with my school work, but made sure I was tucked in and sound asleep before school, and he never would tell me how to deal with things, but would show me how to. All I wanted was a father who would raise me like how they did in the movies, with a treehouse and the front lawn covered with the cool toys they’d bought me like a bike and a RC helicopter. Singing songs together during car rides, and having movie nights or going on a family vacation. I didn’t have any of that. Instead I got a family that hardly spoke to each other, and never really ate at the dinner table.

When other kids would ask about my father I’d reply saying that my Dad practically didn’t raise me. Well, at least that’s what I believed.

One day I wanted something to accompany my wrist, a watch. I walked into the jewelry shop, went over to the watch section, and I looked at the ones in display. I found one that caught my eye and I leaned forward to get a closer view, and right before my hand touched the glass, everything in me screamed to whip my hand away, and so I did, Why did I do that? Nobody ever told me that it was a bad thing to touch the glass? And that’s when it hit me, It was my father who showed me. I remembered having my first ever job interview, and the best step in preparation for it wasn’t to get my resume in check, It was to make sure I get a good nights rest. Why did I do that? My father showed me. Whenever I was going through things I’d go through them alone, and I’d always try my best to hide my true emotions because I didn’t want others worrying about me. Why did I do that? My father showed me. When I would go on first dates I didn’t worry much about what I should say or talk about, or where to take her, Instead I made sure that I was there on time. Why did I do that? My father showed me. I often would give people the benefit of the doubt and would even give multiple second chances, but when they’ve let me down, I’d never raise my voice in anger but instead, just simply tell them how I felt. Or when I need to fix something broken, sometimes the best way to repair it is to buy a brand new one. Or when someone of the friend group is going through things and making mistakes left and right, I wouldn’t be upset at that person, instead I’d be angry at everybody else for their lack of comradery. Why did I do all of that? It was because my father had shown me. In times of emergencies, even if you don’t have the time, nor money, nor effort, you must spend what you have and then sacrifice some more because it is your duty to tend to them. Why do I believe that? Because my father had shown me.

For a long time I believed that my Dad wasn’t the one who raised me, I thought he was selfish for never telling me anything but instead he wanted to show that he was strong and dependable. I thought he wasn’t kind because he turned his face away from me in my lowest, but instead he waited for me to draw strength to face him and in return he fixed the things that were broken. I thought he was foolish for believing my lies of being sick, but instead he had that much trust in me and I broke it. I thought my dad never raised me, but he did, with his motions. The day I bought my new watch, I looked at myself in the mirror. I chose the watch I chose because my dad wouldve picked the same thing, and I even got it for the price he would’ve bargained for. As I looked at myself I couldn’t help but notice that I started to resemble him. Not only in physical appearance, but in character as well. Who knew that my dad was trying his best at being the perfect role model, oh you, father, of child.

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thatbipolargirl · 2 years

Text

5-31-2022

I have an appointment with the pain clinic today here in town. My hips have really been hurting the last few weeks because of my bursitis. I don't want to drive to Macon any longer to go to the pain clinic there, so I had my records transferred here. I really hope they approve me for steroid shots because that is the only thing that really helps. Friday I have an appointment with my endocrinologist for my diabetes. I had to get blood tests last week so he would have them in preparation for my appointment. I am nervous about my A1C number. I hope it has gone down, but I don't really know. We shall see. I also have an appointment with my therapist on Friday. She couldn't get me in any sooner this week, so I'm trying to hold on until then. Jeremy suggested I go to the Mayo Clinic, and when I messaged my mom and sisters about it, they all agreed it was a good idea. I honestly don't want to, but that may be my only option at this point besides my psychiatrist's advice that I either do ECT or Sprayvado (ketamine). Both of those are things I am not willing to do. As far as ECT, I have enough memory loss as it is, and I don't want it to get worse. Plus it just still seems so barbaric even though it is a lot more sanitized nowadays. When it comes to Sprayvado, I have a lot of issues with being high. I can't hardly even drink alcohol anymore because I don't like feeling that I'm not in control. It is the same with marijuana, even medical marijuana. No thanks. I have enough medication that messes with my brain, I don't need to add anything else. Just thinking about doing drugs, even if they are legal, gives me great anxiety. My 47th birthday is in three weeks, and Jeremy has a week off of work, so if I do decide to go to Mayo, that would be the ideal time. Being hospitalized is also incredibly anxiety-inducing because I know I can't smoke. How many people with a serious mental illness smoke? Most of them it seems. And then "the powers that be" create and build mental hospitals where smoking isn't allowed anywhere on campus, even outside. It is literally one of the dumbest things ever.

It is storming outside right now, and it is mirroring how I feel on the inside. I'm just so over being sick. I know there are no cures for bipolar disorder or anxiety or OCD, but even after being "officially" diagnosed over 25 years ago, I still have a very difficult time accepting that. I would give anything to not have the words "mental illness" be one of the first thoughts I have when I wake up or one of the last thoughts I have while falling asleep. It runs and ruins my life. Just the very thought is disabling to me. It is a struggle every single day to live, although I don't know if you can call what I do "living." I mostly just hide away in my house where I feel safe. Well, at least safer than being out in the real world.

I want to talk about how crippling my OCD can be. I don't wash my hands incessantly or obsess about germs like most people with OCD are portrayed by the media. Mainly, my OCD has to do with numbers. I count everything, and anything that has to do with the number six is not "good." And it isn't just the number six alone, it is any number that is a multiple of six or can be divided evenly by six or if added together equals six, etc. Let me explain this a little bit. One, 2, 3, 4 and 5 are okay. Six, of course, is not. Seven, 8, 9, 10 and 11 are okay. Twelve is not because 6 plus 6 is twelve. Thirteen and 14 are okay. Fifteen is not because 1 plus 5 is 6. Sixteen is not okay because it has a 6 in it. Seventeen is not because 7 minus 1 is six. Eighteen is not because 6 plus 6 plus 6 is 18. Nineteen, 20, 21, 22 are okay. Twenty-three is not because 2 times 3 is six. Twenty-four is not because 2 plus 4 is six. (also it is a multiple of six). Twenty-five is okay. Twenty-six is not because it contains a six. Twenty-seven is okay, but twenty-eight is not because 8 minus 2 is six. Twenty-nine is not because 2 times 9 is 18, which is a multiple of six. Thirty is not because it is a multiple of six. Thirty-one is okay. Thirty-two is not because 3 times 2 is six. Thirty-three is not because 3 plus 3 is six. Thirty-four is not because 3 times 4 is six. Thirty-five is not because 3 times 5 is 15, which equals six when 1 and 5 are added together. Thirty-six is not. Thirty seven is okay. Thirty-eight is not because 3 times 8 equals 24 which can be added together to equal six. Thirty-nine is not because 9 minus 3 equals six. Forty is okay. i'll stop there. This is my life. Television or radio volume, the number of ice cubes in my glass, the number of cigarette butts in my ashtray before I empty it, the speed I drive, the amount of gas I put in my car, the number I count to when I'm deep breathing, etc, etc, etc. I would, however, like to mention I consider the number six to be lucky when I am gambling. I know that makes zero sense at all, but that is how my brain works. Another thing I obsess about is how many items I buy when I'm shopping. Of course, I can't buy six of anything, but I also can't just buy one of anything. I constantly worry about running out of things I need. Oh, and I love two-packs of things! I will purposely spend more if an item comes in a two-pack. My husband hates going shopping with me or finding out I spent way more than I probably should have buying two of everything. I literally panic if I get low on something at home -- hairspray, vitamins, ketchup, cream cheese, deodorant, cat food, toilet paper (you can thank me for helping with the toilet paper shortage during COVID), and especially cigarettes. I will have a panic attack if I am low on cigarettes. Seriously. I hide cigarette packs all over the house so I purposely don't run out. I even have some in my emergency backpack (in case there's a fire or tornado or whatever). I also obsess about that -- emergencies. I'm constantly buying emergency supplies. I am prepared for most emergencies, which is actually a good thing, but not when I obsess over it. And I can get very obsessive over it. I don't really want to write about it right now because just talking about the number six has given me great big balls of anxiety in my stomach and throat. Perhaps I should go gambling. Ha.

Until then...

#ocd #obsessive compulsive behavior #mental illness #bipolar disorder #anxitey

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dokifluffs · 3 years

Text

You’re Safe | Sakusa Kiyoomi

Pairing: Kiyoomi X Reader (female)

Genre: MAFIA!AU, dad and husbando tehe, fluffy, action? thriller??

Author’s Note: mafia 🤝 protective 🤝 domestic father figure 🤝 SAKUSA

Warnings: k*lling, blood, vivid imagery, LONG, language

gif from @rivaillerose 🖤

“Y/N,” a husky voice spoke your name, pulling you from your much needed rest as life of being a new mother had been challenging though so far, it wasn’t anything you couldn’t handle

“Y/N, darling.”

You groaned in your sleep, not wanting to wake, to leave the warmth that you were so comfortable laying in

The edge of the bed shifted as a weight sat down beside you, making your body move toward the person

You brought yourself to open your eyes as heavy as they were, your vision clearing to find your husband sat beside you, his mask pulled down to his chin

The room was gloomy and gray though the curtains were open, not a bit of sunlight shining through as he looked down to you with gentle eyes

Despite his softer side with you, he was still the head of the clan - and his appearance matched him as well

He donned a black wool overcoat with the same colored turtleneck and mask

“What is it, Omi?” You asked sleepily as he cupped your cheek with his black gloved hand

His black gloves were always an accessory he had on him, whether he was wearing them or not

He had a thing with germs but he also saw no need to get his hands dirty when his men were always there to do the job for him

You nuzzled your face into his touch, very tempted to fall asleep holding him close but as your mind woke up more and more, you remembered what today was

What he had to do, where he had to go

“I’m leaving soon.. I’ll be back in a few days..” he whispered as he moved a strand of your hair from your face

You wanted to pretend you didn’t hear these words, that he never told you he had to leave or when he did

A part of you wished he left without telling you but an even greater part was so grateful that he woke you

“Do you really have to go again?” You squeezed his gloved hand as you sat yourself up straighter

“You know how my father is... He wants to make sure things are... under control.. I promise I’ll be back in two days.”

The way he spoke, the words fell so effortlessly from those lips, his voice low and cutting through the space yet he spoke at a volume as if he was telling you a great secret

“You said that last time and he kept you with him for a couple weeks...” you thought back to that time

You were seven months pregnant, almost eight, at the time and it was like he fell off the face of the earth

You couldn’t go anywhere or do anything but reside in the manor and you couldn’t even talk to him

You were alone again

“Don’t go...”

the nights in bed alone, the cramps, emotional rollercoasters, motion sickness, nausea

You at least wished he could have called you

The nightmares you had, the worst case scenarios playing in your head until you woke up with tears streaming down your face, only for you to cry yourself silently back to sleep as fear pooled and plagued you from within

He could see the sadness in your eyes and he could remember vividly the mental torture he was put under

No communication to you and all he could at most to see you was through the hidden cameras all connected to his phone

Even checking in on you had to be done in secret, all to make sure that he was strong enough to continue on the family business even if he had to lose you or be away for unpredictable amounts of time

It was unbearable then and it was still unbearable now

He never asked to grow up into the business of the underworld, let alone take it over from his father at the prime age of 20 four years ago

He never wanted your life to be taken away when you two had already been together when he was recruited

“I’m sorry, darling, but you know I have to,” he sighed. “You know how my father is.” He cupped your cheek and kissed your temple then lips before he stood

“Am I going to lose you?” Your voice broke the silence, breaking through the white sound of the downpour outside

But you had stopped your question early

“Am I going to lose you today? Tomorrow? One day?”

He stood frozen in his place before he could reach for the knob

“No, Y/N. You won’t.” His eyes paused for a bit on you as he thought about his response, the fatigue of being a mother was already showing. “I’ll be able to call you this time and I’m the head now. The only title my father has to me now is father.”

“You won’t.” He stepped back over to you leaned down to kiss you again. “Not today at least…”

“I’ll call you at supper time, darling. Have a good day.”

You did your best to hold onto his hand as long as you could, to remember his touch, his voice, his scent, the way he looked before he walked out those doors

Because some days or nights, you never truly know if you would ever see him again

And it terrified you

The sound of the rain only seemed to get more intense now that he was gone and you were here

But now your day was beginning now that you were awake

You slipped out of the king sized bed, leaving the warmth you had slept in as the soft carpet at your feet, your toes sinking into the fibers

Brushing your teeth, showering in the grand bathroom of the manor, it was a life you surely never expected but here you were

Kiyoomi’s father and his entire family had built their name from nothing to the global known corporation that it was today

You dried your body off, finding what to wear today through the walk in closet and once that was found, it was breakfast

“Good morning, madam, shall I bring you your breakfast to the master suite?” Your right hand maid had greeted you as you stepped out as she carried the laundry with her

“Oh, thank you, Olivia, but I’ll head down to the kitchen after waking D/N,” you smiled to the older maid that had worked for the Sakusa family for decades

All the staff that worked and lived in the estates on the property outside of the manor were trained security, men and women, whose jobs were to protect the main family, to serve them, and to keep others who would pose a threat away and out, even if it meant killing them

But you always tried not to think or wonder about how many people these staff have killed or beat up or anything whenever you interacted with them, especially when they greeted you with a smile

They were there to protect you and to make sure that nothing and no would would ever harm your life

You stepped into the nursery, the wide room decorated with warm lights and stuffed animals, some more than twice the size of your daughter

“Hi,” you smiled so brightly seeing your baby’s eyes already open, looking up to you as she sat in her crib, holding onto her blankie. “Good morning precious,” you lowered the front gate of the crib so you could kneel down to her level

Sakusa sat in the limousine as he watched the scene of you and your daughter in the nursery, wishing he could just turn the car around and to stay home

Things were in balance, he knew this already but his father’s orders were orders he still had to respect

He clicked off his phone, tucking the device into his pocket as he was to be in the car for quite a bit of time before he would get to his father’s

The biggest smile spread on her face as she laughed seeing you, her bubbliness seeming to make all the gloominess disappear

“Let’s get you changed~” you chimed as you lifted the baby girl into your arms, getting a whiff of her heavy diaper and finding an outfit for her day

“Olivia?” You called into the custom intercom by the nursery’s closet, though there was practically one in every room

“Yes, madam?”

“Sorry for troubling you, but could you actually bring breakfast for D/N and I up to the upstairs loft? You could even send it up the dumbwaiter and that’s fine too.”

“Of course, would you like the usual?”

“Yes please, thank you.”

You carried your little girl toward the upstairs loft, one of your favorite areas of the house since it was significantly smaller - well almost - than the living room downstairs

The loft didn’t extend all the way downstairs like how the ground floor’s living room ceiling extended to the second floor

More than ten thousand square feet of property, more rooms in the manor than you knew what to do with them

Four guest bedrooms with full bathrooms, a grand study and two story “little” library, two main bedrooms in addition to the master bedroom and a nursery

So much space, all sorts of technologies, gadgets and gizmos of all sorts in the house

All the systems in the house was made by the Sakusa corporation to ensure security

This even included your and Kiyoomi’s custom made phones

There was also the basement- all sorts of fun activities to be done: a pool, pool table, living room area that opened up to the backyard with the bar and barbecue, the fire pit

and finally, there was the cellar that was the only place Kiyoomi had requested that you never go - and you never did

You knew that look in his eye, that tone of voice and you knew he had requested this for your best

And most importantly, there were three safe rooms, all three upstairs with hidden entryways to protect you, official guests, and anyone in the family

Before you knew it, Olivia had made her way upstairs with the breakfast as you played with your daughter in the loft, bouncing her on your lap sat on the wide couch

The loft was brightly lit and open, toys of all types for your daughter to play with as the TV played the morning kids show

As filled as the house was with the special staff and things to do, it still felt so lonely and empty as you sat there

You had tried to chat and converse with them but they never loosened up, always keeping all the formalities but it was never any use

The storm outside seemed to be getting worse as your eyes gazed to the horizon, spotting the trees at the edge of the estate where all their branches had been swaying in the wind, the paler, underside of their leaves revealed

Thunder began to rumble in the distance with the occasional flash of lightning but both unbothered your daughter and you as the two of you remained in the loft

You watched as she rolled about on a blanket, playing with her stuffed animals and the other interactive toys that played music to keep her entertained while you watched the TV, finding nothing remotely as entertaining to watch

But just before you could change the channel to yet another disappointing channel, your attention was pulled to your phone vibrating beside you, your eyes lighting up as you saw the caller ID

“You seem so bored,” Kiyoomi’s deep voice sounded through the phone but he spoke the truth

You were tired and bored but you didn’t want to sleep - it would only make you unable to sleep later tonight anyways

“I am,” you sighed as you muted the TV. “How far out have you gone?”

“Actually, not too far. Only about half an hour since there was a major accident on the highway so we had to take a detour. But traffic is terrible so we were stuck for quite a bit before we could actually exit,” Sakusa almost groaned thinking about the terrible accident

How he was stuck in a single place for practically twenty minutes

“Wow, do you know what happened?”

“Well there was a…” his voice drowned out in your ears as you could hear something that didn’t sound like rain or thunder - they were too distinctly different

Loud bangs echoed in the distance, bringing your attention elsewhere though all you could look was outside the wall window to the dark skies

But you couldn’t see anything except the normal background of the property but it was just silent again with the white noise of rain washing down the glass, followed by thunder and a flash of lightning as the storm brewed closer and closer

“I’m sorry what? I missed what you said... I think I heard… something weird..” you spoke as you looked outside the windows that looked to the back of the property

You could hear echoes of movement downstairs, the bustling business of the special staff in the house but it sounded standard... or so you thought

“What did you hear?”

“..I don’t know.. maybe it was the storm and I’m just distracted...” you smiled into the phone as you spoke while your daughter happily crawled to you, laying her head on your legs, her puffy cheeks round as ever

“Well, you two were my only source of entertainment so far this trip,” the corner of his lips curled as he picked off small specks off his suit

“That makes one… of us-“ your thought died out in a matter of seconds

You heard louder, clearer bangs while the staff that had been stationed with you just outside the loft talked over their ear coms to another elsewhere

Before you could continue your sentence or call, the bangs only got louder and your body reacted faster than you could say or think

Clear gunshots began firing at the front entrance, echoing off the high walls and ceilings of the manor while the staff worked on securing the doors and all other entrances and possible ones

“Y/N?” Sakusa could only hear the subtle commotion happening but it was clear you weren’t on the phone. “Shit shit shit..” he stayed on the line as he changed to the security cameras he had access to he used to watch you and your guys’ daughter

Looking through the camera surveillance, he caught a glimpse of you disappearing with your phone in hand while your arms carried your daughter as you disappeared toward the bedroom

“Turn back now,” Kiyoomi howled as his driver did just that, not wasting a single second

You ran into the master suite’s walk in closet that led to the entryway of one of the safe rooms, your baby girl in your arms as she held on to you her whines already beginning before they would turn into cries

“Shh, it’s okay, baby, mama’s gonna protect you,” you smiled, whispering, your voice already shaky, lips trembling as you pressed a little kiss to the top of her head. “Even if it costs my life, precious.”

You moved, leaving the master suite and stayed low as you walked across the “bridge” that connected the loft to the other half of the house

Peeking down, you could hear groans of agony, puddles and splashes of of blood on the floor and walls, empty bullet shells on the ground, shards of glass and broken windows

“Search the house, find that bitch,” a deep voice yelled through the manor as for the first time since the loud bangs happened, it sounded so still, like any normal rainy day

But this was far from normal

You crawled across the marble flooring toward the library

There wasn’t any safe room here but the safe rooms were sure to be where they would look, whoever they were

They were able to get through the security, it seemed like the staff was dead

You silently stood as they scoured the lower levels - you could hear them and all the destruction they were havocking

The cars outside the window blurred into mere colors that passed as the limousine sped through the roads back towards the manor

To save time, they went toward the back roads — it was just the slightest bit longer but time could be shaved down since there were no cars anywhere

“Step on it!” Sakusa commanded as his men readied themselves. “Call in Unit 0,” he demanded as he kept his eyes on the cameras, trying to find you yet he couldn’t see you in the master suite’s safe room

Unit 0 being one of the few very highly trained professional assassins and killers who were at the disposal of the Sakusa family whenever needed

He scoured through the cameras, not even caring about all the destruction being done, all he needed to see was where you and your daughter were

You carefully entered the library, shutting the door behind you as you walked over the wooden floors carefully

Every step made your palms sweaty but your heart stopped after hearing a loud creak in the old floors

The worst part was that there was no way to lock the doors

outside of the door, you couldn’t hear too much but you could still clearly hear the storm as a great big window stretched from the floor to ceiling so all the lighting in here was natural

There was something about the walls surrounding the library that made it sound proof in a sense

You constantly bounced your baby girl in your arms to keep her calm as you tried to get a look outside as you approached one of the corners toward the window

“Search upstairs,” one of the men demanded as a handful of men ran upstairs. “Find her.”

The scoured through all the rooms, flipping every room apart, destroying things, tearing the curtains off, flipping the beds, wrecking the nursery

You peeked out the window that faced the front of the manor yet all you could see were broken things and to your horror, more lifeless bodies of the manor’s staff

But before you could look out any longer, a large rock was launched at the window, breaking the glass, shattering it

Your baby girl let out a loud cry in fear, making your heart drop

“No, D/N, shhhh, please, it’ll be okay, we’ll be okay.” You quickly pulled open the latch to the library’s hidden passage where the door was one of the bookcases

As soon as you closed the bookcase, you heard the door to the library burst open

Several men, guns ready

You scanned your finger print for the room to be safely locked however it wouldn’t let you. All you could do to make sure the room was locked was to see your body to keep the door shut and still

They walked through the wide open doorway to the library scanning the two open floors that was connected by two black steel staircases that wound their way up and down, connecting the two floors

“Shh, please,” you whimpered to your daughter as she cried into your chest as you stayed by the passage’s door so you could look out the peephole

They pulled books off the shelves, throwing them from the second level to the first, knocking the paintings off the walls, ripping them by sliding their knives through the canvas’, kicking them, breaking the frames

The ground shook as you heard a a loud boom, making you jump in your spot, the ground rumbling and shaking below where you sat

It sounded like a bomb went off on the lower level but you assumed it was the cars in the garage since you could hear the repeating alarm sounding off

Your daughters cries began to start back up at the loud noise, as you did your best to shush her

“Shhh, it’s okay,” you whispered to her as you wiped her tears, keeping her face to your chest as you stroked your trembling hand down her back as tears trickled down your cheeks and dripped off your chin

The limousine slid on the gravel outside the manor as Sakusa’s men sprang to action from the vehicle

Kiyoomi stayed in his seat, continuously scouring through the cameras but you were yet to be found

He couldn’t find a single trace of you

His men, as well as unit 0, entered through the blown open entrance, broken shards of glass crunching beneath their steps as they surrounded the estate the best they could, splitting up to eliminate the intruders

“Where are you, Y/N?” His heart hammered in his chest as he desperately tried to find you yet nothing

But before he could look any further, his heart dropped seeing the red system failure message. Whoever these people were, they were impressive, but not fast enough

Kiyoomi now meant business now that he had no access to actually see if you were okay

He ran out of the limousine as gunshots could be heard all throughout the house as half his men made their way to the upper level while the other half wiped out the intruders on the lower level

He followed behind unit 0, making their way upstairs

He clung onto his gun tightly in his hand, finger ready on the trigger as he barged into the master suite, firing two bullets into the chest and head of a large man as he was pillaging the closets

All the precious jewelry he bought for you were now stained in the pool of the filthy blood of the man who had the audacity to enter the premises

His heart almost dropped seeing him in the closet in the first place but it didn’t seem like the man noticed the entrance to the safe room behind the clothes on the hangers

As he pushed the luxurious wardrobe aside opening the door and to his fear, you were nowhere to be seen

More gunshots sounded off, echoing through the halls, sounding off the walls

He couldn’t focus, his thoughts incoherent, unfinished sentences running in his head as he just ran, killing those in his way to find you

A gun war was going off throughout the library as Sakusa’s men fired at the intruders on both levels but they had great firepower too

Both sides hid behind the marble pillars, the different bookshelves and furniture in the room as the rain showered in

Your baby girl cried loudly, her shaken cries sounding off throughout the passage

“No, no, no, please, baby.” Your heart raced as you dared to look out the peephole, only for it to drop as you saw a man you didn’t recognize yell something to another man near him

The man he yelled to fired more shots while the other one approached the passage entrance, banging noises coming through the bookshelf

“She’s in here! Hold them off!” The man yelled

“No, no, no.” Tears welled in your eyes as you did your best to keep the door closed but there was no actual way to since this was just a simple passageway

Your daughter cried loudly in your arms while you gave it your all to keep the door closed

Amongst all the shots being fired, Kiyoomi heard the words the man yelled and then it clicked

He knew where you were

“No.” This one word repeated in his head as he pushed through the front, racing past the bullets being shot towards him as he ran on pure adrenaline

“Boss, no!” His men yelled but this only got the intruders to focus on him, giving them the opening to shoot them all

Kiyoomi shot the man closer to him in the legs before letting his body move on pure killer instinct as he grabbed the man who had fallen to his knees by his jaw, snapping his neck

The other man changed his focus to Kiyoomi as he stood to his feet while the other struggled to pull his gun from his holster

Kiyoomi towered over him as his body moved on his own

He kicked the man to the wall, pressing the barrel of his gun to the man’s chin, pulling the trigger without a second thought

You squeeze your eyes shut, facing the other way from the door, bracing yourself

“I love you. Mama loves you, baby,” you whispered as you cried, a loud rumbling filling your ears as you felt the door being forced open

This was it

You were going to die

Your daughter was doing to die

you let out a blood curtling scream feeling the hands of whoever grab onto you, pulling you, kicking your legs to try to fight

“Y/N, Y/N, Y/N!” Kiyoomi’s familiar voice sounded louder and louder over the rumbling you heard in your ears from clenching and bracing your body and your daughter’s

“It’s me, It’s just me!” He soothed you as he turned you

You couldn’t explain or even begin to describe the relief you felt wash through your body, your heart racing and slowing down at the same time as you broke down, your cries mixing with your daughter’s

“You’re safe, I’m here,” Kiyoomi pulled you into his arms, your body shaking terribly in his arms as you cried into his chest, all the fear you felt flooding your senses

“I know, I’m sorry this happened, but you’re okay. Everything will be okay,” he whispered as he pulled you into his lap, keeping the passage door somewhat closed

You were already put through enough today and he didn’t need you to see the second degree murder crime scene he had committed right outside

“I’m here, I’m here.” He reached up and pulled his mask off as he kissed the top of your head all over, wiping away your tears with his thumbs but you couldn’t stop crying

But that was entirely fine

“But Y/N,” he held your face in his bare hands, his normal gloves off as he stroked his thumb over your cold, damp cheeks

“Why didn’t you go into the safe rooms, darling?” His own voice was unsteady, his lips quivered, eyes teary. “I looked for you and I couldn’t find you and I thought I lost you..” His voice broke off as he gathered himself the best he could, taking deep breaths

Seeing Kiyoomi like this, it broke your heart even more

“I’m sorry, I don’t know what… I was just scared and- and-“ It hurt you so much

Everything about today did

But just this moment was Kiyoomi, it also touched you

He was such a stoic man, usually one to show a softer, affectionate side with you but this was the first time you saw him shed tears

A man who had taken so many lives was now showing his true emotions for the two lives he would give his own live for a hundred times over if it meant you and your daughter was okay

“I know, I know, but you’re safe,” he let out a deep, relieving breath as he hugged your head closer, your body shaking uncontrollably in his arms

“And hey, shhh, it’s okay baby. Papa’s here.” He stroked your daughter’s head as she sort of calmed down as the two of you sat together, doing your best as parents to shoo away her sadness while his men did their best to first and foremost clear the bodies and blood

You absolutely did not need to see that after today

“You two are both safe.” He breathed as he pulled you two impossibly closer, letting the shakiness of his own heart disperse

“You’re safe…”

~~~~~ Thanks for reading! Masterlist for more! Please do not repost anywhere else!

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subpar-ghoulfriend · 3 years

Text

Let’s have a baby

yandere!EraserMicx PREGNANT!Reader

A terrible mix up leading to an accidental pregnancy? Or something more intentional? Either way now you were pregnant with (none other than the beloved power couple heroes) Eraserhead and Present Mic’s child. Time to discuss how co parenting is going to work.

TW: pregnancy, artificial insemination, yandere elements, mentions of stalking, alludes to potential custody battle

You had been avoiding the two men for the past week, which was challenging seeing as they managed to find your phone number, address, and place of work. Any time you blocked their calls they got a new number. Two Pro Heroes versus a twenty something civilian, it was only a matter of time until you were cornered.

Now the couple stood between you and your apartment. You had a long shift at your job as a pet groomer and just wanted to get some rest.

Present Mic was the first to speak. "Hey lil momma, we heard you had work today so we brought you some dinner. We thought we could talk over a nice meal."

You had no response. You were tired, both physically and emotionally. You had been put through the ringer ever since meeting them at your doctors office. It was a total Jane the Virgin situation. You went in for an assessment about some supposed ovarian cysts and unknowing left artificially inseminated. There was a supposed mix up, a digital glitch that somehow merged your chart with the surrogates - apparently your names were super similar. Two weeks later you were called back into the doctor's office and informed of what took place. And now you were in this living nightmare.

And the two heroes had nothing to do with the error. There was totally a surrogate. They hadn't paid off your provider. And why would they? You had never met them - although given their patrols they may have seen you once or twice...

They were tearful when they were informed of the mix up, they had been waiting patiently through the whole process and now everything was thrown in chaos. They offered to compensate you for your service which sent you into a blind rage. They just assumed you would carry a child, a child with half of your DNA, and then give YOUR baby away. Rationally you understood that they had planned to be be the only parents to the child, but that was with a professional surrogate who understood the process, who didn't want the child in their life, just happy to help out a loving couple. But that wasn't you, you grew up wanting to be a mom, and now they would take that from you.

What if they tried to legally take sole custody of the baby? Surely they had some pull in the judicial system. Besides, they were a solid couple with money, while you were alone with no family and working two jobs. The thought made you sick to your stomach.

You were shaking as you tried to push past them. Maybe they would just disappear if you ignored them, a girl could dream. But instead they tagged along inside. Albeit you weren’t fighting them on it, you knew this had to happen eventually.

Aizawa easily found the cluttered dining table in your small apartment. You flinched when the loud one tried to help you shrug off your backpack. Taking a seat on the couch you waited for them to start berating you.

"Come sit at the table, dinner is getting cold," Eraser spoke for the first time.

"I'll eat later, I'm not hungry."

"You may not be, but the baby needs to eat."

You glared, how dare they insinuate you didn't know what your child needed. If your body was hungry, you ate. If you were full the baby was full too.

But, you complied, not wanting to argue, "Fine, but I ate a snack not too long ago."

As you ate, Mic kept you company, picking at some left overs, they clearly ate before their visit. Aizawa was rummaging through your place but you managed to hold your tongue until he began throwing things out of your fridge.

"What are you doing?" You hissed, getting up out of your seat.

"Mic and I will bring you groceries tomorrow. The food you have is barely safe for an adult, let alone a fetus."

"Are you kidding me? It's not like I'm chugging alcohol and living off Twinkies. Hey! I just bought those turkey slices. How is turkey bad?" You whined.

To make sure you wouldn't dig the food out trash he dumped it out of his container.

"Zashi, don't let me forget to empty the trash on our way out. Do you know how much salt is in deli meat? And there's no way you can drink any of this while you're pregnant." He gestures to the cans of soda.

As the frustration built you had to fight back tears. They couldn't come in to your home and start throwing out your things.

"Some of us don't make ridiculous money, I'm buying what I can afford and the doctor never had any problem with my health." You hissed.

Hizashi felt the tension thickening, "Hey hey hey, it's okay. Sho and I will go get you some good stuff. We just gotta watch out for you and baby."

And that was the end of your resolve, you stomped past the Hero and locked yourself in your bedroom. Finally tears began to drip down your cheeks.

Back in your kitchen Mic was chiding his boyfriend for being so tough on you.

"So I should just back down while she stuffs herself with junk food?"

Mic gave him a shrug, showing him a bottle on your counter, "At lest she's taking her prenatal vitamins?"

Grabbing the keys to your apartment Aizawa instructed Mic to wait with you while he got you better groceries. He would make copies of your keys on his was back.

You prayed they would leave soon. You were laying in your bed having cried yourself out. Barely into your second month of pregnancy. You still had to endure this for at least seven more months, but most likely much longer.

Next thing you knew you were opening your eyes and the clock read seven AM. By now your uninvited guests must be gone. Nervously you sat up, praying that you'd skip the morning sickness just once this week. You had always had a weak stomach and even the doctor was surprised you were already experiencing the symptom. Unfortunately the minute your feet touched the floor you knew what was coming. You sprinted to the restroom, not even checking to see if the duo had left.

God this was terrible, you didn't just hate throwing up, you were terrified of it. What if you started and never stopped? But it did come to an end. You wiped the water from your eyes and took a moment before standing from the floor. You screamed when a hand slid under your arm, helping you up. Another set of feet rushed to the bathroom.

" What's wrong?" Hizashi huffed as he skid to a stop.

You pulled arm free from Aizawa's grasp. "What are you two still doing here?"

You turned in the faucet to rinse your mouth. Trying to calm your stress, the nausea was trying to return.

Undeterred the scruff pulled your hair into a bun before rubbing your back. You debated returning to bed but that wouldn't get them out of your apartment. You told them you need to sit down, both of them nodding, still wearing their concerned expressions. They got you a glass of water before joining you on the couch. Stubborn men, you sat at the end of the couch so they couldn't both sit, but Mic decided to perch himself on the armrest.

He started petting your hair, "You feelin better little listener?" You nodded in response.

"I got you more food, let us know if your hungry."

You sighed in defeat, "I'm barely two months pregnant, I can fend for myself. What did you all want to talk about?"

You anxiously placed a hand on your stomach. Both men felt their hearts flutter recognizing your maternal instincts kicking in.

Aizawa let Mic begin, he was the more gentle of the two.

"Well, we figured we got off to a rough start. You got put in a tough situation. We shouldn't have assumed you didn't want a child so we're not mad at how you stormed out. But either way we expect to be in our baby's life. The two of us talked it over and we don't want to fight you if you want to be in their life too. So if you wanna be the mommy we're cool with it."

You could blame your reaction on your hormones for your response but you didn't, "Geez thank you so much for allowing me to be in MY child's life."

Aizawa placed a hand on the back of your neck, giving you a gentle massage. "Okay then, the three of us are gonna have a baby. That means you have to stop ignoring us. We can raise the baby together, without involving anyone else. But if we have to, we can always go the legal route for the baby's best interest."

He knew it was a low blow, but the couple needed you to stop fighting them. Your eyes snapped to his and you shook your head in protest.

"Okay then we're all the same page," Aizawa reassured you.

Mic cheered, "Now we can focus on the fun stuff."

"Hun," Eraserhead caught his attention. "There's still a few more important things to figure out. We don't want you going back to that doctor. They're incompetent. We scheduled you an appointment with another's clinic for next week. Okay?"

You couldn't find your voice after how easily he threatened to take your baby. So you just nodded. Half listening.

"Good. We also went ahead and programmed our numbers into your phone. We need to be able to check in with you."

"Okay, but I can't use my phone at one of my jobs."

"About that lil momma," Mic started. "You work a lot, which is totally bad ass, but we don't think you leave enough time to rest and take care of yourself."

You tried to protest but Aizawa cut you off, "You also shouldn't be working around so many animals. Even though we love animals, they can be unpredictable and one dog can trigger all the rest into a frenzy."

You were dumbfounded, "I've never heard of anything like that happening. One of my coworkers was pregnant last year, she worked until her maternity leave. Plus I need to be able to pay my bills. And don't offer to compensate me again."

"Why do you have to view it as compensation? We just want to take care of the mother of our child. Just think about it. Mic and I have to go take care of some business but we'll be back later this week."

---

Back at their home Hizashi was dramatically splayed on their bed.

"Babe why are you pouting?" Aizawa asked.

"Why can't we just bring her home already?"

Aizawa sympathized with his better half, but they needed to be methodical. He reminded Hizashi that they didn't need to cause her even more stress, especially so early into the pregnancy. If they played their cards right they would have their happy little family soon enough.

If they could ease you in to the relationship everything would be easier in the long run. They had been managing just fine until now, they could wait a few more months.

He joined Hizashi on the couch. Mic was comforting himself the way he usually did when he felt like this. He was scrolling through the countless photos they had collected since their chance encounter with you over a year ago.

#bnha yandere #yandere erasermic #yandere x reader #yandere present mic #yandere aizawa

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firstbeachgoblin · 3 years

Note

Hey! I hope you’re well, can i request an imagine where reader is Embry’s imprint and they haven’t seen eachother in months because reader has a life she can’t just drop for him but she comes back when the pack is blowing up her phone ? Thank youu and don’t worry if you don’t write it, it’s fine!

Thank you for the request! It took a Long time But It's now complete with a total whopping 5k words!! Any way I hope you enjoy the fic.

I put it under the cut because it's so long but it's my brain baby at the moment lo.

Returning to you.

Embry Call x Reader

5058 words

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Most of my life has been spent in the Forks area so getting to travel to Europe for six months to see the art and culture was a dream come true. The past four months I’ve been travelling through Europe, starting in Greece and ending my trip in the Irish countryside.

The old art and architecture filled me with a joy that I could not get anywhere else in the world. The smells, sounds and sights all played their own part into the experience. I got to see the moon rise over Mount Olympus, the David by Michelangelo in the Vatican, tour through the Louvre, drink wine on the beaches of France and so much more. I’ve been living my best life.

It's been a dream to see the world, I've met so many new people and tried so much food. I’ve enjoyed every minute of my trip, but there was a part of me that longed for the beaches of La Push.

That part is Embry. Embry Call. My boyfriend, my pal, my love and my light. To me Embry is my everything and to him I’m his everything. That is one thing that has been made perfectly clear the past four months I’ve been away. Every day he’s told me he misses me and I know he means it, I’ve been told not just by him but also the rest of the pack.

Everyday I’ve woken up to ‘Good morning I miss you.” Sometimes he phones to tell me that he feels like he might die if I’m away for any longer. I always chuckle and tell him he will survive, it’s not like I’m going away forever; but that's what he feels like it is. This usually earns me a long winded whine from the other end of the line.

My phone buzzed against the smooth surface of the bedside table while Embry’s face flashed across my screen signalling that he’s calling. A smile graces my lips as I pick up the phone to be greeted with his loving voice.

“Hi (y/n)!! I miss you so much.” sadness was laced in his usual cheery greeting, it hurt my heart to be away from him but I would never trade this experience for anything. I’ve been planning this for years and I wasn’t going to pass up cheap plane tickets.

He filled me in on the pack's shenanigans, complaining about how they keep teasing him for being glued to his phone awaiting any updates I would send him. The later it got the heavier my eyelids seemed to feel, my speech started to slur with exhaustion of time zones while Embry continued to become more energetic with each passing minute.

“Em. . .” A yawn interrupted me mid sentence, a low whine emanated from the phone as he knew I would want to get to bed to have the energy for the long trip I’ll embark on tomorrow for Ireland, which is my last stop. I’d be spending the remaining two months of my trip in the lush countryside.

“I think I should get to sleep, I have a long day ahead of me tomorrow.” I mumbled into the phone.

“But (y/n)!” he dragged out. I knew he wanted to talk longer but I physically cannot do it. Even though Embry and I don’t live together officially yet, we’d talk into the early morning till one of us fell asleep.

“But (y/n) what?” I dragged out the ‘a’ matching his whine.

“I miss you and want you to come home.” I could hear him pause over line before he continued.

“Besides, sleeping isn’t the same without you.”

I ran my hand through my hair gently tugging on the roots easing the tension that’s built up over my trip. As much fun as I’ve had, he does have a point. Sleeping just isn’t the same without Em. My nights have been spent restless in beds that aren’t mine without the comforting touch of my boyfriend; but that doesn’t mean I can just drop everything and go back home.

“Em you know I can’t just pack everything and go home. . .” I looked at the painting that hung over the tv that sat opposite of my bed. A puppy-like whimper fell from his lips when he spoke again, his voice cracked like he was going to cry. It broke my heart hearing him upset.

“I-I know I just really miss you.”

“I know Embry I miss you too, but it’s only two more months then I’ll be home.”

We chatted for ten more minutes before I fell asleep on the phone. As much as I missed falling asleep in his warm embrace I can’t just fly back home, not yet at least.

The blaring of my alarm woke me from my slumber. The clock face read 6:02 a.m. taking everything within myself to peel back the blankets that encased me in their warm grip. I patted through the bed sheets to find my phone only to knock it onto the floor in the process.

My lock screen adorned a photo of Embry with icing smudged across his face from his birthday party but a swamp of text messages from the pack covered my favourite photo of him. Five texts from Leah, seven from Jake, nine texts from Paul, 12 texts and two missed calls from Sam and a whole group chat titled ‘(y/n) come home.’

The group chat kept pinging with the members of the pack who were still awake discussing the logistics of flying out to Ireland to take me back home. Was Embry really causing that much strife in the pack for them to create a group chat? Knowing him, it couldn’t be too far from the truth.

Leah and I call once a week to check in and make sure the other is doing okay since I left. It’s one of my favourite parts of the week being able to have a one on one with someone sensible. Every week she fills me in on Embry begrudgingly, she does it because she knows it makes me happy which I appreciate.

Reading through her texts she didn’t say much in regards to Em’s behaviour the only message relating to him was “come get your man child please, he’s getting snot on the floor.”

I listened through Sam’s voice mails which were begging me to come home, he informed me that once Em knew I was asleep he started moping around Emily’s house again for the fourth consecutive night in a row. This was news to me.

The texts entailed that Embry was becoming a pain on patrol and that Paul ‘couldn’t take another minute of the incessant whining.’ I told them the same thing I told Embry; I’m not dropping everything and rushing back home to sooth the wails of a love sick boy. There isn’t much I can do from across the ocean anyway.

I stretched my body and headed towards the bathroom to brush my teeth and shower before I had to leave for the airport.

I packed the few remaining things I left out to prepare for the flight and headed my way to the lobby to check out. I enjoyed travelling but I wasn’t going to miss sleeping in hotels and hostels.

Two weeks have passed since I touched down in Ireland and to say I’ve been having the time of my life is an understatement; I’ve been having a ball living my best life.

The land was capped in a luscious emerald green sea of grass that waved in the wind, the roads were lined with hand built stone walls that marked the division of farmers fields.

Sheep and cattle grazed in pastures, and old castles dotted the countryside. It was gorgeous. It was a view that I wanted to see again, a view I want to see with Embry.

It felt like time was flying by between sight seeing, trail hiking, museum tours and calls with Embry and Leah. It has already been a month. I had one more month before I was to jet set back to the U.S. and see my Embry.

One more month before I was back in La Push surrounded by the scent of sea water and trees with the looming threat of rain constantly overhead except in the summer. For two months of the year La Push was bright and sunny with the expected summer storms that happened.

I had fallen asleep on the phone with Embry again when I realized my phone was lost in the sea of sheets as it buzzed with an incoming phone call.

I couldn’t find it until the call had gone to voicemail and my phone landed on the ground when I gave up and ripped the blankets off of the bed but whoever called must have felt it was really important. Picking up my phone the most unflattering photo of Jacob was plastered on the screen, his name in white.

“Hello?” I asked groggily into the phone, rubbing the sleep from my eyes. I looked over at the clock which said in bold red numbers 1 am.

“Hey (y/n)! You sound like you just woke up.” I heard him chortle from the other end.

“That’s because I just woke up Jake, it’s one in the morning.” a yawn escaped my lips, I know I’ll have a rough time getting over jet lag when I go home.

He occupied twenty minutes with idle chatter and borderline interrogation about all the sights I’ve seen before I asked him why he was calling me so early in the morning

“Embry has spent the week at my house, you need to come home there’s nothing we can do anymore to occupy him till you return.” He sighed, Jake knows I want to finish my trip but we made a deal that I would come home early if there were absolutely no options left to keep Embry from sending the pack into hysterics.

I knew he was buttering me up for something.

“Are you sure you can’t figure something out? It’s just another month!”

“Another month of him eating my cereal and getting dirt on me from my dad!”

I snorted with laughter at the fact that Billy was telling Embry every embarrassing detail from his childhood.

“Jake please just let me think about it okay?” I sighed, flopping back into my hollowed cave of blankets and sheets.

“Okay, I’ll let you think about it but don’t think I won’t be telling Sam.” he warned.

We laughed together and he wished me a good night before hanging up the phone, before I slipped back into slumber I sent Jake one more text.

‘You wake me up at one in the morning again and it’s over for you.’ in which he responded with ‘Oh no I’m so scared lol.’

I reached over to the bedside table and plugged my phone in before the sweet embrace of warmth and slumber took over my senses.

The next three days I was bombarded with texts from Paul whining about the wolf mind link and how every patrol shift he had with Embry was spent tuning out his constant thoughts of me.

Standing in the shower with hot water running over my skin soothing my tense muscles I heard my phone buzz against the granite countertop. I rolled my eyes and continued to bask in the endless hotel hot water.

As bad as staying in hotels could be, the hot water made up for the early breakfast and sheets that were tucked in a little too tightly.

I had shampoo in my hair when my phone started buzzing again, this time with a call. I grumbled under the stream of water washing away the soap before it could get in my eyes; whoever's calling can wait.

I moved on to conditioning my hair, letting it sit while I wash the rest of my body with a lightly scented lavender soap.

I refused to use the complimentary soap because it dried out my skin and the lotion just left me feeling sticky instead of moisturized.

Watching the soap run down the drain my phone rang again, I clenched my fists, who could possibly be calling me now? I still refused to get out of my steamy heaven to answer my phone.

My gut told me that whoever was calling wouldn’t let up until I answered. I washed out the conditioner from my hair and wrapped it in a towel.

The mirror was coated in a layer of steam, the tiles were cool against my feet. I wrapped the plush towel around my body, mopping up the droplets of water that remained.

My phone started vibrating with rapid fire text messages from the pack’s group chat they made a month ago. I sighed, picking it up to sift through the messages. I read a message from Jared telling me he’d pay me to return.

The pack always made me laugh, together they’re a walking sitcom. There is never a dull moment with them, someone always had something witty or sarcastic to say.

I checked to see who had called me and it turned out it was Sam, I listened to his voice mails and immediately phoned him back.

As soon as I hit the call button it only rang for half a second before he picked up.

“Thank you for calling back, I thought I’d have to call two more times.” he chuckled.

“Well I was in the middle of a shower, can’t really take a call there.” I moved through the room with my phone pressed between my shoulder and cheek. Stopping at my suitcase to pick out what I was going to wear for the day.

“I’m going to be frank with you, I need you to come home. . .” I let out a huff before he continued.

“Embry needs you badly, he’s just a pile of mush on the floor now. It’s a chore to get him up to go on patrol. Please?”

“Fine, I’ll see what I can do Sam, I’ll try to book a flight for the earliest date I can find.” I knew I was giving in but from what they were telling me and the constant texts were getting to be difficult to manage.

“Thank you, when you get back I’ll buy you take out for a month okay?”

“I hate that you know what my weakness is.” I laughed through the phone, a month of free take out? Hell yeah. It made the prospect of going back a little brighter since I wasn’t going to complete the rest of my trip.

I wasn’t losing out on too much though, I had seen and done everything that I wanted. It wouldn’t be too bad to go home early.

We talked for a couple more minutes before parting ways, I threw my phone on the bed and watched it bounce a couple times before turning my attention back to getting dressed. Since I had a flight to book it was okay to spend the rest of the day lounging in pj’s.

The soft fabric of my pj’s brushed against my skin as I jumped into bed with my computer in hand, and now it was time to book a flight back home. Maybe text Paul and tell him he can quit complaining as well.

I woke up the next morning with my flight booked for take off in the afternoon and my daily good morning text from Embry. I felt a little sad to be leaving such a beautiful country but the trees, ocean and Embry all called my name.

Pacing through the room I grabbed the comfiest set of clothes I packed for my return flight back to Seattle, I had enough time to sleep on the plane to be conscious enough for the three and a half hour drive back to La Push.

I was set for a long day ahead of me but it was going to be worth it in the end, seeing the bright and happy face of my boyfriend, getting to hug him and kiss him again.

I made one last check of the room before I gathered my clothes and toiletry kit and made my way into the bathroom to shower before my long flight. As I was stepping into the shower my phone pinged from the counter with a text from Sam.

“Have you booked that flight yet?” it read.

“Yeah I’m due for take off at 1. I should be back in La Push some time tomorrow!”

My fingers brushed the cool surface of the counter top as I put my phone back and got into the shower, hot water immediately running down my back; this time my phone wasn’t being blown up by a desperate wolf pack trying to get my attention.

I can’t sit in the shower for hours on end this time, I have a flight to catch and a boy to surprise. Embry was currently still under the impression that I would be coming home in two weeks. Boy would he be in for a surprise.

The residual steam wafted out of the bathroom while I brushed my teeth revealing my towel wrapped body and hair in the mirror behind the skin. I checked the time and noted that I had two hours to check out, make my way to the airport, and check into my flight back home. Two more hours before I could smell the trees and ocean, two more hours before I could see my friends and hug Embry.

The time managed to move by in a blur by the time I was shutting the trunk of the yellow cab that was going to drop me off at the airport. I got into the back seat and the driver peeled away from the hotel front onto the winding roads.

“Aye where are you headin’?” The driver inquired in a thick Irish accent.

One thing I noticed in my stay here was that the accent changed in every town or village I passed through. It added to the charm

“Well, I’m on my way home after spending six months in Europe.” My eyes scanned over the green hills that rushed past in a blur.

“My favourite places I’ve been have definitely been Ireland and Greece.” I smiled towards him.

The lines around his eyes crinkled with the smile that graced his face at the mention of Ireland.

“Well that’s good to hear innit? Glad you’ve enjoyed your stay. We welcome ya with open arms if you return.”

We held a light conversation until we arrived in front of the drop off area for passengers, thanked him and grabbed my bags before heading into the crowded lobby.

The front of the terminal was metal and glass that reached towards the heavens with automatic doors gaping open like a mouth. Inside was a dull white with light grey floor which my shoes clicked against with each step.

It was packed with people like a can of sardines, I weaved my way through the masses towards the check in desk which thankfully only had a short line to get through.

Under the mix of fluorescents and natural light the desk lady’s bags that donned under her eyes glared with visible exhaustion from the mass amounts of people that swarmed the terminal.

Despite her clear drowsiness she still greeted me with a warm smile and a soft hello.

I grabbed my ticket and thanked her then turned and pushed myself through to the security check, dropped my luggage off and took a seat to wait for the boarding call for my flight.

As I waited grey clouds started to fill the sky blocking out the little sun that was once shining in its place.

My eyes grew heavier by each minute that passed, waiting could be hard, but waiting in an airport where there’s no sense of time is worse. So I distracted myself by people watching.

A lady was bouncing her baby, the old man across from me was snoring. A businessman paced back and forth speaking urgently into his phone, a family chatted excitedly for their family trip to the Canary Islands.

I pulled my eyes away from them as the call for my flight rang out over the crowded terminal, grabbing my suitcase and making my way towards the gate.

Excitement filled my every step as the anticipation grew and bubbled inside me. I gave the greeting flight attendant a small smile and made my way to my seat, for being last minute I managed to get a window seat.

We sat on the tarmac for twenty minutes before taking off and before I knew it the seat belt light pinged off and I was fast asleep jet setting my way back to America, back to my home.

I couldn’t tell what time it was when I woke up but the clock on the tv screen said 2 a.m. and that we’re due to arrive in an hour. I sat up in my seat and gazed out the window into the starry night sky.

Energy started to course through me as I watched the arrival time tick closer and closer. A light rain misted down over Seattle as I left the Seatac terminal and made my way through the maze of cars in the night that was made darker by the rain.

I spotted my blue Subaru and popped the trunk so my interior and seats wouldn’t get wet. It had been a long six months since I last sat in my driver's seat, the wheel almost felt foreign in my hands as I turned the key and listened to the engine roar to life.

I drove through the winding roads of the city to the Seattle-Bainbridge Ferry to take the 45 minute ride into Bainbridge and headed North to get on the 101 then turn onto 110 which would take me back into the heart of La Push.

The closer I got to Forks the brighter the sky became; well as bright as it could be on a gloomy day. The clouds became painted in the glow of purple and pink as the sun rose over the horizon, the rain had let up and left me with an overcast sky for the remainder of the drive back.

Since I slept virtually the entire flight back I didn’t feel the weight of exhaustion at all, but surely when I arrived back in the arms of Embry I knew I’d hit the wall with sleep deprivation.

As I barreled through the corridor of trees I passed the signature ‘welcome to Forks’ sign and turned right onto the 110, twenty minutes to home. I was so close but my soul felt like it was light years away.

The clock on my radio told me that it was currently 6:45, the pinks and purples that coated the sky faded away to the typical grey that fills my senses with delight. Sea salt and washed up kelp started to seep into the air that circulated into my car making the hair on the back of my neck stand on end.

Closer to Beach Drive I got the stronger the smell of the ocean became. The turn signal clicked as I turned onto the road that gave way to Sam and Emily’s house so they could take me over to Embry’s in the off chance that he happened to be awake at this hour.

It’s highly unlikely that he would be up at this hour but it’s not something I could be one hundred percent positive about. I stepped out of my car and turned around to see Emily running as fast as she possibly could towards me with open arms and a huge smile plastered across her face.

Dropping my bags I dashed across their lawn into her embrace.

“Oh (y/n)! I missed you so much, you must be so tired.” She released me from her hug and settled her hands on my shoulders giving them a gentle squeeze.

“I missed you too Emily, I knew I’d be tired but not this tired.” I chuckled while wiping at my under eyes in a feeble attempt to wipe away the exhaustion.

She put her hand on my lower back and led me inside for the awaiting cup of tea while Sam moved my bags into his truck.

The warmth of their home embraced me, the comfort of their kitchen was familiar. The only thing missing was the rowdy group of boys that made up the pack who usually occupied every available seat in the home.

I took a seat at the kitchen table where three cups of tea sat waiting, I should have expected a q and a when I returned. Wrapping my hands around the mug the warmth that radiated from it filled my hands.

Emily took a seat beside me and Sam entered through the door and sat adjacent to both of us.

“So how was the trip?” We sat around their table chatting until our cups were empty and filed out of the house into the early morning air.

“Emily and I will drive your car back to your place after I drop you off at Embry’s, the kid’s been sleeping in my living room more often than I’d appreciate.” Sam’s eyes crinkled with a smile, I knew he was joking but at the same time there was truth to his words; and honestly I couldn’t blame him.

“Thank you for putting up with him while I was gone, I owe you guys one and you owe me take out for a month.” He rolled his eyes and ruffled my hair turning into the Call's driveway. Embry’s mom had already left for work leaving him to his own devices; which meant he would sleep in as late as his heart desired.

We got out of Sam’s truck and he dropped my bags on the doorstep. I turned and gave him a quick hug and a thank you before sticking my key into the lock.

The door creaked open and I dragged my suitcases to a stop in their front entry way and shut it behind me.

My shoes landed on the floor with a soft thud and I gingerly walked up the stairs to ensure I wasn’t too noisy while making sure to avoid the one squeaky stair.

I got to the top of the stairs and hung a left down their light beige hallway that gave way to the oak door that guarded Embry’s room. His soft snores filtered through the door, it’s door knob was cool in my hand. Making an audible click with the turn of my wrist.

Dark mahogany brown hair peaked up from beneath the sheet that tucked Embry’s body out of view. One pillow was on the floor while the other was tucked firmly between his cheek and arm, I smiled at the sight of my sleeping boyfriend which filled my every inch with the utmost joy.

My sock covered feet pressed into the carpeted flooring with each step I took towards his bed making sure to step over the piles of dirty clothes that were scattered around the room.

The sun filtered through the gaps in the window blinds casting pools of golden light on the floor and along his walls causing the crystal prism that hung above his closet to sweep dashes of colour across his walls.

I pulled back the grey top sheet to reveal his peaceful face and I swear my heart was going to burst with the amount of love that I feel for him. His hair was tousled in every direction and a cow lick stuck straight up on the left side of his head.

My hands ran over his hair, smoothing it out while I whispered his name. Embry groaned a bit and rolled over, I whispered his name a little bit louder and moved my hands from his hair to his shoulders running them along his arms finally waking him from his slumber.

“Hi Em!” I gushed out as his brown eyes opened and focused on me. His face split with his toothy smile and his arms shot around me, pulling me down into his chest.

“Do you know how much I missed you?” Embry mumbled into my hair.

“I figured a lot with the amount of texts I got from the pack.” I reached up brushing the hair from his face.

“You can never leave me for that long again. . .I didn’t know what to do without you here.” He ran his hands through my hair placing a gentle kiss upon the top of my head.

“I was so worried about you. I couldn’t protect you and make sure you were safe.”

“Well next time I’ll make sure you can come, then you don’t have to worry.” Craning my neck up I placed a kiss upon his lips which were still a bit swollen from slumber.

“The important thing is that I returned safe and in one piece. The other important thing is I get to spoil you with the gifts I brought back!”

His laugh filled the room sending vibrations through my body.

“Hey! That’s my job to spoil you, not the other way around.” He ruffled my hair causing us both to laugh. I peeled off my socks and wiggled my way under his blanket.

“I think it’s time we catch up on six months worth of cuddling.” I poked a finger into his side.

“Yeah I think that’s a good idea, you owe me for being gone so long.”

“What? I came back early!” His hands made their way under my shirt to rest on the bare skin of my back sending waves of heat through my body from being pressed into him. Oh how I missed my heater.

“Yeah, by like what? Two weeks?” his silky voice chuckled out.

“I missed you Embry.” I told him, placing a kiss on his exposed shoulder.

“I missed you too. Now let's go back to sleep, you look tired.” He said to me as he rested his chin atop my head and pulling me closer.

#embry call imagine #embry call x reader #twilight wolves #twilight wolf pack #twilight renaissance #twilight revival #twilight saga #wolf pack #embry call #jared cameron #jacob black #sam uley #paul lahote #quil ateara #seth clearwater #leah clearwater

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tennessoui · 3 years

Note

would you ever do a hunger games au? like anakin and obi-wan in the arena and doing a katniss and peeta thing where they both survive? anakin maybe killing the competitors so obi-wan wouldn't have to? (just thinking that child killing is in character for him) anyway no pressure or anything I just haven't stopped thinking about a hunger games au of obikin and. I thought maybe you could do something with it!

i need you to know i shamefully snorted at the child murder thing i'm sorry and i'm also sorry this took so long and it's a bit all over the place and doesn't actually get into the Games at all (+ it's been years since I read the books so all inaccuracies should be tastefully ignored pls) this may not be what you asked for tbh but here you go!!

(content warnings: hunger games typical discussion of child murder, but nothing graphic)

(1.7k)

Anakin’s first emotion after his name is called is a strange sense of relief.

Good, he thinks. I’ll get to go with Obi-Wan. He won’t be alone.

He dutifully steps forward out of the crowd towards the stage, where the announcer is waiting next to Obi-Wan.

Obi-Wan who is looking at him with an expression of naked devastation.

Anakin tries to convey that it’ll be alright, that it’s fine, that they knew this was a possibility. Sure, it’s Anakin’s last year eligible to be in the Games. Sure his nineteenth birthday is in two weeks, at which point he would become too old to qualify as a child to the Capitol, but what’s done is done.

Obi-Wan will be his mentor, because Obi-Wan has been the mentor for District Four ever since he won his own Games seven years ago when he was sixteen and Anakin was twelve.

That year’s known unofficially as the most boring Games in Panem history, but the Capitol loves how handsome Obi-Wan’s grown to be. So what if he didn’t kill his competitors messily or with a bloodthirsty joy? He’s so polite in his interviews all these years later, and look at those dimples!

It makes Anakin sick, every time Obi-Wan has to leave District Four and travel to the Capitol to be fawned over and stroked and used. His nightmares are always worse the weeks after he gets back, and he never lets Anakin hold him during them.

And it’s even worse during the actual Games, when Obi-Wan is put in charge of two children’s lives only to see them brutally murdered on screen a week later. The cameras always show his reaction when the competitors from District Four die. They must think he cries pretty or something.

Anakin hates the Capitol. He hates them for what they’ve done to Obi-Wan. What they’ve made him into

As he gets close enough to the stage, he notices that Obi-Wan’s hands are shaking slightly.

He doesn’t even listen to the name of the girl being called. She’s not important. She’ll be dead in a few days time. What’s important is Obi-Wan. What’s important is comforting him, is reassuring him. Is coming back to him.

This is the moment when Anakin resolves that these Games will become known as the quickest in history.

---

The girl is understandably sullen and upset on the train. “I should get a different mentor!” she demands. “It’s obvious you’re going to play favorites with him.”

Anakin doesn’t snap back because she’ll be dead in a few days. Though she really shouldn’t use that tone with Obi-Wan.

“I’m not playing favorites,” Obi-Wan insists. “I don’t have favorites.”

“You literally just wiped sauce off his mouth with your finger,” the girl points out. “And then he licked it!”

Anakin smirks at her. Of course Obi-Wan has favorites. Of course Anakin is Obi-Wan’s favorite. It took him years to wear down Obi-Wan until he allowed him this close, and years after that until he finally got to kiss him for the first time, just a few months ago.

If she thinks he’s going to give up any of his Obi-Wan time so she can get her hopes up about not dying in a few days, she’s got another thing coming.

But Obi-Wan shifts away from him and he looks guilty.

If Anakin could get away with killing the other person from his district, he would. But it’d probably make Obi-Wan sad.

“Is whining part of your strategy?” he asks waspishly instead. “I don’t think it’ll make you many allies.”

She has the nerve to look offended.

“Anakin,” Obi-Wan chides. Underneath the table, he squeezes his knee.

“Everyone in the district knows about you two,” she glares at him. “You haven’t exactly kept it a secret.”

Anakin hasn’t exactly tried to keep it a secret. The first night Obi-Wan had kissed him, he went straight home and told his mother, his neighbor, his schoolmates, his cat, and his ex-girlfriend.

(No one had been surprised, except maybe the cat.)

“It’s not fair,” she cries. “Who can I talk to to get a different mentor for me?”

“The ethics board,” Anakin smiles, all teeth, settling back into his seat and slinging an arm around Obi-Wan’s shoulders.

“Anakin,” Obi-Wan says again, this time more exasperatedly. “Robin, I promise I will be the best mentor you can ask for. It is my wish to see you survive as long as possible in the next few weeks.”

The girl jumps to her feet in outrage. “You can’t even say you want me to win!” she yells. There are tears at the corners of her eyes. If she were a little less annoying, Anakin would feel quite bad for her. Obviously Obi-Wan doesn’t want her to win. Anakin’s right here.

She storms out of the train compartment, her face in her hands. Anakin barely waits for the door to close before he’s slipping into Obi-Wan’s lap and throwing his arms around his neck with a groan. “God, I thought she’d never leave.”

He isn’t pushed away. Obi-Wan must realize they only have a handful of days left to be together before he goes into the arena.

“Anakin,” Obi-Wan says wearily, even as his arms encircle his waist.

Anakin presses a kiss to his nose and then another to his cheek. “It’s alright to have favorites, Obi-Wan,” he murmurs. “And she should know there’s no way she’s winning anything. Don’t waste your time.”

“I will do everything I can to make sure she survives as long as possible,” Obi-Wan repeats. “I don’t think I can survive anything else.”

Obi-Wan’s voice sounds shaky, so Anakin presses their lips together. Best not to talk for awhile.

------

“We should discuss strategy,” Obi-Wan says later that night through frantic kisses. “Sponsors, story, training--”

“I have a strategy,” Anakin murmurs back as he moves further down the bed, rucking up his partner’s shirt. “Win.”

----

“You look absolutely radiant,” Anakin tells the girl in an undertone while they’re in line for their interviews. She turns around to glare at him. The designer for their district has gone for the typical fish designs that people always associate with District Four, and they’ve dressed her up in a shimmering iridescent gown that flares at the ends like a fish’s tail.

Anakin’s own outfit is mostly a fishing net draped over one shoulder and a pair of tight pants. The designer, much to Obi-Wan’s embarrassment and Anakin’s satisfaction, had taken one look at his shirtless chest and decided to dress him in as little clothes as possible.

“Weird braid,” is all she says.

Obi-Wan had done it late last night when both of them had tired each other out and Anakin had curled up on his chest. After his Games, Obi-Wan’s hands like to do something. The repetitive motion of braiding and unbraiding Anakin’s hair soothes his demons.

It’s one of the reasons Anakin’s grown it out to his shoulders, much longer than is practical for his district.

Obi-Wan had gone to unbraid it, and Anakin had stopped him. He wanted to keep it. To wear it into the Games.

“Thank you,” he says generously. “I saw your score. 7’s not too bad.”

She sneers at him. “Did you celebrate your 11 with your boyfriend?”

“Oh sorry,” he winces. “Did you hear us? I’m just so bad at biting my tongue when he does this thing with his.”

She scoffs in disgust and turns back around. “I hope he has to watch you die.”

Anakin glares at her back. He knows he can’t kill her himself. But there has to be a way to hurt her and her chances and still have plausible deniability.

When it’s her turn for an interview, she’s vapid and pretty. She laughs and touches the interviewer’s arm.

“I’ve never spent much time in District Four,” the interviewer says jovially. “But tell me, really. Is everyone there as beautiful as the people you keep sending us? I mean. Obi-Wan Kenobi, ladies and gentlemen, am I right?” The audience laughs and hollers. Anakin hates them all. “And now you, Robin, and Anakin Skywalker. Damn!”

Robin--Anakin needs to stop forgetting her name--giggles high in her throat. “It was a very, very enjoyable train ride up,” she says with a stupid wiggle of her eyebrows. “Just this side of too long.”

The audience loses it.

Anakin loses it.

He can’t believe she’s sitting there publicly suggesting that Anakin shares Obi-Wan with anyone. With her. The nerve.

The camera pans to Obi-Wan in the crowd, who looks shocked, embarrassed, and deeply troubled.

Anakin won’t let this stand. He just hopes Obi-Wan forgives him.

The interviewer greets him excitedly when he walks out, and Anakin gives him a sheepish sort of smile.

“Lady killer Skywalker!” the interviewer says. Anakin laughs along with him. “All the girls back home must have been heartbroken to see you leave.”

“But I’ve heard they love watching me go,” he jokes with a charming smile. If that girl--Robin--can do it, he can do it much better. “There’s really only one person for me though,” he murmurs, letting his smile die.

“Oh?” The interviewer asks, leaning forward with interest.

“But sometimes I wonder if they’re only using me for my body,” he says, casting his eyes down. “I love them. Heart and soul, everything I am. But when I told them, they just laughed.”

This is technically true. The first time Anakin had told Obi-Wan that he was in love with him, the older boy had laughed his confession off, saying he was too young to know what he wanted.

“Oh, to be young and in love,” the interviewer sighs theatrically. “So your plan is to win the Games and then win her heart when you get back home?”

Anakin makes himself look sad. Tragically sad. Like he can’t bear to go on.

“They came with me,” he says.

If the audience’s reaction to Robin’s fake confession was huge, its reaction to Anakin’s words is even bigger. Of course they think he’s talking about the girl. That’s exactly what Anakin had wanted. Now he’s the broken-hearted boy and she’s the vapid, self-absorbed bitch. She'll have a hard time finding sponsors now.

It’s very, very hard to hide his smile, a task made exponentially more hard when he sees Obi-Wan bury his face in his hands.

“It’s alright,” Anakin tells the interviewer, without taking his eyes off of Obi-Wan. “I’ll survive.”

#asks #hunger games au #anakin's a bit dark here lets be real i love writing him like that #his games are the quickest games for sure #he does lose his right arm #but he wins #and then moves in with obi-wan #and obi-wan kisses every mechanical finger of his hand before bed each night #anakins just so heartbroken over the death of the girl #that he leans on obi-wan to help in the aftermath #(the story he'll tell the capitol people)#thank god his friend obi-wan is such a strong rock in these times #he has to write the girl's name on his hand so he doesnt forget it #the capitol thinks its so he can carry a piece of her with him into the games #shes furious but how is she gonna set the record straight without admitting to lying herself?#she started it anakin was just finishing it #bitchy dark obsessed anakin my love #obi-wan would be just as obsessed remember #he spends anakins games avidly watching and worrying and going around trying to get sponsors for him #but like within 50 hours the games are over anakin won #obi-wans gotta call everyone back and be like 'um never mind haha'#prompt fill #obikin

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babyboy-cody · 3 years

Text

ch. 01 | finding out

summary: after feeling so different for the past week, you decided to go to the doctor in order to find out what was actually wrong with you. the cause of you feeling this way was something you weren’t expecting.

warnings: depictions of early signs of pregnancy, clueless grayson, mentions of sean, implications of smut, mentions of abortion

quick note: okay so this is my first ever grayson series, so hopefully i make you guys proud. some of the pregnancy signs are things that some people don’t go through, so i wanted to make it as realistic as possible. any feedback would be great! <3

word count: 2.6k

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:

Waking up early in the morning, you never expected to feel like shit. From the position you were laying in, your tender breasts were pressed into the bed, causing you the slightest pain. You groaned and winced as you went to turn. Just from moving, you felt nauseous and dizzy, the blinding light from the sun pouring into the room caused you to squint. Grayson wasn’t in bed beside you as usual. He always woke up at the ass crack of dawn to start his morning routines of breakfast, exercising for two hours, and shower. The rest of his day is spent doing activities, such as woodworking/building, spending time with you, long-boarding, or exercising some more.

A wave of cramps suddenly hit you, causing you to muffle your long moan into your pillow. You tucked your body into the fetal position, tucking your hand under your sweatpants to press down on your lower stomach, hoping that the pressure would ease the aggravating pain. For the past week, you’ve been constantly getting cramps. The breast tenderness happened only a day later. Premature cramps are the usual sign of starting your period. What confuses you is why you woke up with no blood staining your underwear or pants.

Sluggishly grabbing your phone from under your pillow, you opened up your usual period app. The last time you had gotten your period was exactly the same day as last month. Your eyebrows furrow when you see that you should’ve started your period exactly two weeks ago. You hastily sit up, immediately shutting your eyes as a wave of nausea hit you like a tsunami. There was brief commotion coming from the kitchen, followed by Grayson yelling, “Ethaaannn!” You faintly heard Ethan’s boisterous laugh, which only amped up his younger brother’s annoyance.

You swallowed the forming saliva at the back of your mouth. You suddenly felt so exhausted, even though you had a whole ten hour rests with no interruptions or disruptions. Swinging your legs to the side of the bed, you slowly got up, shutting your eyes to avoid feeling dizzy so fast. You desperately craved Grayson’s warm skin against yours in order to make you feel better, especially when his strong arms were wrapped around you, holding you nice and tight against him. As though the universe heard your thoughts, Grayson enters the bedroom, a comfy hoodie adorning his upper body as gray sweats adorn his lower half. He looks so comfy and warm and soft with his messy hair and growing bed and bright smile.

“Look who’s finally awake!” He announced and spread his arms wide, running over to playfully (and gently) tackle you into the bed.

“Gray, Gray, baby, be gentle,” you quickly told him, hands grabbing onto his arm as the room suddenly spun. “I’m not feeling too good today.”

He immediately sat up, using one hand to push his long hair from his face as the other slowly sits you up. His eyes were full of worry as they scan you up and down. You smiled tiredly and gently stroked his jaw, loving the feeling of his scruff on your palm.

“What’ve you been feeling?” He was quick to ask you, desperately wanting to know why you’ve been feeling sick and what could’ve caused it. “Do you think it’s cause E was sick last week?”

“I mean, maybe,” you shrugged. “I’ve been getting cramps and my boobs have been hurting as usual before I get my period.”

“So you’re starting you’re period?” He questioned, thinking that could be the reason.

“I don’t think so, babe. I’m getting symptoms I’ve never gotten before and it’s worrying me,” you quietly told him, your voice holding such worry that he’s never heard before. “I’m so exhausted and dizzy and I can’t even stand without feeling like I’m gonna pass out.” You rubbed your hands over your face, groaning at the uncomfortable churning in your stomach as you suddenly thought about eating. “I can’t even think about food without feeling like I’m gonna throw up everywhere.”

“Baby, you need to make an appointment for the doctor or the GYN to see what’s going on. You don’t know if this could be something serious,” Grayson anxiously tells you, his large hands cupping your cheeks to make eye contact with you, his thumbs lightly stroking your warm skin back and forth.

“I will,” you held onto his wrists. “I promise.”

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:

After your serious talk with Grayson yesterday, you made an appointment to go to the gynecologist the very next day. Nerves were bubbling in the pit of your stomach, causing you to use the bathroom four times in the past hour. Ethan and Kristina were worried as well, unsure of what to do or say to make you feel at ease and less anxious. If what’s causing your sickness something terminal, they knew that Grayson would quite literally go insane. You were his person. Grayson was a believer of soulmates, and he knew deep in his heart and soul that you were his.

This morning, it was eerily quite. The air was awkward and tense with no one knowing how to break the ice. Grayson’s jaw was clenched and he watched your every move carefully. You were feeling a little better, only eating in small quantities and being forced to drink lots of water (by Grayson). Your appointment wasn’t until 2 in the afternoon, so you had plenty of time to do your morning routine and talk to Grayson. He insisted on staying in the bathroom when you shower and do your skin care.

“Gray, I’m not dying,” you joked lightly.

“Don’t fucking joke like that!” He raised his voice, glaring up at you as he sat on the edge of the top, elbows on his knees with his fingers interlocked. “That’s not fucking funny.” There was anger in his tone, and you realized how insensitive it was of you.

You knelt down in front of him, unlocked his hands and slithering more between his spread knees. He doesn’t look at you as he looks down at the ground between your own knees. “Hey,” you whisper, hands on his broad shoulders, lightly shaking them. “Look at me, please.” When he does, you see the slightest of tears along his waterline. Your heart breaks when his face scrunches up in agony and his eyes shut, his hands immediately covering his face to press the heels of his palms into his eyes. “Grayson…”

He sniffles into his hands, shaking his head frantically. “I can’t lose you,” he weeped so softly, his voice muffled behind the barrier of his hands. “I can’t fuckin’ lose you the same way I lost my dad. I-I just can’t.” You let him pour out his emotions, all the while holding onto his shoulders and gently pushing his hands away from his face to wipe away his warm tears. The area around his eyes and cheeks were tinged red, his beautiful eyes now turning puffy. “You don’t understand h-how broken I’d be without you, Y/N. It’s like… a piece of me might die.”

“Baby,” you whispered brokenly, shaking your head as you hurriedly pull him into your chest. His head buries itself in the crook of your neck. “I am so so sorry for making that joke, alright? Hey, look at me.” You lift his head up, wiping more of his tears with your thumbs. “I promise you, from the bottom of my heart, that everything is okay.” At the sound of your soft whisper, he lets out a quiet and shaky sigh. The thought of now hearing your voice anymore physically hurts his heart. He hesitatingly nods, desperately wanting to believe your words. But looking into your eyes this very moment, seeing the determination and confidence in your face, he has no other choice but to believe you.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:

Sitting on the exam table in the cold room that slightly smells of hand sanitizer and wood, you didn’t know what else to think. Your thoughts were a jumbled mess as they tried to unravel itself to form a coherent sentence in your head. Grayson wanted to come in with you, but you had told him to stay in the car, out of fear of him hearing dreadful news. You closed your eyes and breathed in and out deeply, trying to calm the storm that’s beginning to make itself known. What you didn’t hearing was the door opening and the OB-GYN, Dr. Khaleesi, stepping in. She was a lovely Indian woman who was older than you by 20 years. You’ve been coming to her for a year and a half now for your usual STD checkups or any worries you had with your uterus. She was the sweetest woman you’ve come to known and you never felt judged by her.

“Everything alright, Y/N?” She asks as she shuts the door, leaving you both in privacy. She holds the clipboard to her side and sits onto the rolling stool to slide herself closer to you.

“Just nervous,” you laughed awkwardly.

“Well, it’s just me,” she tells you softly, her accent sounding so elegant as she gently pats your knee. “Now, it says on the appointment form that you’re hear for a checkup regarding your period.”

“Yes, um, I’m late on my period - about two weeks now. But I’ve been feeling a lot of cramps and breast tenderness and all the symptoms of starting my period. And I don’t know why,” you sighed and picked at your nails, not sure how to keep still.

“Alright, well, I’m going to be asking you a few simple questions and I want you to answer as honestly as possible,” Dr. Khaleesi tells you. “What day was your last period?”

“The 6th of May.”

“How long does menstrual cycle typically last?”

“Six to seven days, give or take.”

“And are you sexually active?”

You blushed as you thought about Grayson. You hadn’t forgotten the romantic picnic dinner he had set up in the backyard with a large projector hung up. Sitting there under the stars with him, being in such a close proximity to that man always made you feel so nervous. But having his hands on you, his lips on yours, his large and muscular body between your thighs, it made it all worth it. You most certainly didn’t forget how many times he made you orgasm in under an hour. You were thankful that Ethan and Kristina had gone to their own date night for a few hours.

“Y/N?” Dr. Khaleesi’s voice broke you free from your thoughts, causing you to clear your throat out of embarrassment.

“Y-Yes, I’m sexually active,” you softly responded.

Dr. Khaleesi nods and checks off the small YES box beside the question. “And how often do you engage in sexual intercourse?”

“Um, about three to four times a week.” You suddenly burst out into laughter at the surprised look on her face. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be,” she laughs as well. “At least one of us is getting some action, huh?” She laughs again when you cover your face, muffling your small groan. “Back to the questions. When was the last time you were sexually active?”

“I’d say last week, but I’ve been feeling these symptoms for the past two weeks now,” you hesitatingly told her, secretly not wanting to know the cause in order to avoid the dread and heartbreak if something was terminal.

“And what symptoms have you been having?” She asked you, now looking at your expression rather than the clipboard in her hands.

“Um,” you looked up in thought, “Nausea, cramps, breast tenderness, sudden feeling of exhaustion, loss of appetite, and I’ve been peeing a lot more.”

Dr. Khaleesi nods silently, her sudden silence makes you feel incredibly uneasy. You swallow down and exhale a shaky and audible sigh. She gives you a reassuring smile. “Do you mind if I exam your stomach?”

“N-No,” you quietly said and laid back on the cushioned exam table. “Go ahead, please.”

And after hearing your consent, Dr. Khaleesi pulled on some blue latex gloves and hovers her hands over your stomach. You pull up your shirt and pull the cracked skin of your bottom lip with your teeth. She gently presses down in different areas of your stomach, periodically asking, “Does this cause any pain? Discomfort?” And each time, you shook your head. As she was getting to the end of the exam, you went over every single possibility. What if it’s a tumor? What if you’re pregnant? Could it be cancer? Is it internal bleeding? Somehow, you couldn’t find a reason for each possibility to happen. You had no family members with a history of chronic illnesses. And you and Grayson always used protection, never birth control because of the harmful effects to your body. When Dr. Khaleesi was finished with the brief exam, she sighs softly and lays a hand on your shoulder.

“I know why you’re feeling like this, Y/N. And before I tell you, I want you to know that I am here if you ever need advice on how to do this, okay?” She tells you in a reassuring and motherly tone.

“Just tell me,” you whispered, voice cracking as you strong to keep a strong front. But with every second, it slowly disappeared, revealing a vulnerable and terrified woman in front of the doctor. “Please…”

Dr. Khaleesi sighed quietly and licked her red lipstick stained lips. “You’re… pregnant. Presumably one month pregnant.”

If you were standing, you were sure you would’ve dropped to your knees. Your mouth dropped open, trying desperately to form words, but all that came out was a weak squeak. Tears lined your waterline as you shook your head in disbelief.

“N-No, that’s… that’s fucking impossible,” you frantically said, shaking your head even more as you hastily stood up and walked over to the other side of the room. Your hands went to your hair as you paced back and forth. “Oh my God, oh my God, oh my, God,” you whispered to yourself, muffling a sob with the back of your hand. “I.. he’s been talking ab-about having kids for-for so long and…” your voice shook between every word. “We’re both so young!”

“We have options, Y/N,” Dr. Khaleesi gently told you as to not scare you if she rose her voice to speak over yours. “There’s abortion-”

“No!” You shouted. “That… That is out of the question. I-I need to talk to him. I need to see where his head is at first, and-and then I can talk to you about… options,” you whispered the last word. You are pro-choice, but you know deep in your heart that you couldn’t terminate this pregnancy. If Grayson thought the opposite, you’re not sure what would happen next.

“Would you like me to schedule your next appointment in one week?” Dr. Khaleesi quietly asks you as she notices the mental battle you’re currently having. “That way you have plenty of time to discuss what you both think, okay?”

You hesitatingly nod and look over at her with an expression that nearly broke her gentle heart. “I-I’m scared, Daksha.”

At the sound of her name exiting your lips, she immediately crosses over and pulls you into a hug. She understands that this may be unprofessional to her bosses and what other patients may see as inappropriate, but she would never let a terrified woman feel alone.

“You are going to be okay, child,” she tells you quietly, one hand wrapped around your shoulders as the other lightly pats the back of your head. “Whatever you decide, I will help you along the way, okay? Do not forget that.”

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:

CURRENT TAGLIST

@etherealdols @certainaesthetic

#grayson dolan x reader #grayson dolan

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heliads · 3 years

Text

Some Small Comfort

Based on this request: “reader is having a really bad day for no reason and Draco comforts her and one of the ways he does is kissing her forehead and wrapping his arms around her so she can bury herself into his chest”

masterlist

The wind is wild around you. It’s a cold, blustery day, and anyone in their right minds would have stayed firmly indoors, bodies turned instinctively towards a roaring fire in their common rooms. However, you are decidedly mad, and instead perch here in the creaking wooden stands, green and silver scarf wrapped around your neck as if the few feet of woven yarn will do anything to keep you warm.

It’s not like you’re alone, though. Hundreds of students are packed in around you, banners of emerald and sapphire being waved frantically through the air at opposite sides of the stands. It’s time for a Quidditch match, the semifinals of the Hogwarts Quidditch Cup. Your own beloved Slytherin is playing against Ravenclaw, who despite being stronger than the past couple of years is being steadily crushed by the swooping and soaring forms of seven green-cloaked players. Your cheers are ripped from your throat by the wind, joining the collective cacophony of the school as you all watch in awe.

“They’re going to win. No doubt about it.” You glance over your shoulder to see Pansy Parkinson. You and Pansy have not always been close friends, and the most you have in common with her is the house you share. She’s overly critical of the fact that you’ve been known to hang around with Potter, Weasley, and Granger. You’re a touch too haughty when you compare yourself with her. If you’re supposed to spend time with people who make you a better person, you’re not entirely sure you’ll find that same company with Pansy. That being said, there is a certain rush in being able to say what you want about whoever you want and share gloating laughs with another girl clad in viridian. It’s always a little more fun to pretend to be the villain, isn’t it?

You flash Pansy a grin. “As if there was a chance they wouldn’t. Slytherin is Ravenclaw but with muscle. It’s easy to see that those blue prats wouldn’t last ten minutes.” Pansy smirks at that. “Besides, it’s easy to cheer them on when you’ve got your star seeker boyfriend, don’t you? I hate to say it, but the two of you are cute together.” You feel your cheeks heat up as she says it, even as you know Pansy only speaks to get a rise out of you. “I’m glad you approve of our relationship. I would be utterly devastated if you didn’t.”

Pansy turns her attention back to the game. “Speaking of which, Malfoy would be utterly devastated if you don’t start paying attention. I think he’s about to win.” You tear your gaze away from your friend to stare excitedly back at the pitch. Sure enough, Draco has spun his broom into a deep dive, plunging farther and farther through the air until at last he snatches at something and rights himself, arm held triumphantly up. Even from this distance, you can see the victorious look on his face and the small golden sphere trapped in his hand, white wings beating uselessly against his palm.

Your shout of triumph is drowned out by Lee Jordan’s voice, which echoes across the Quidditch pitch. “And that’s it- Malfoy has caught the snitch- Slytherin has won. I hate to say it, but it was a good performance from Slytherin all around. We all know we’ll thrash you at the championships, though, you can count on that-” Lee’s hurried speech is cut off by the sound of Professor McGonagall chastising him for a certain lack of impartial commentating. You and the rest of the Slytherins rise up in boos against Lee, although you can’t stay angry for long. Draco has won, what more could you care about?

You rush down through the stands to the grounds below, feeling your heels fly across the packed earth. Draco’s already waiting for you outside of the locker rooms. His face, which you can tell he’s trying his hardest to keep neutral and unimpressed, breaks into a smile when he sees you. You run over to him and he picks you up, wrapping his arms around your waist. You beam up at him. “You were amazing, Draco. Honestly. That last catch was fantastic.” Draco shrugs as if it’s nothing, but you can tell that he’s secretly thrilled himself.

“It was fairly easy against Ravenclaw. Gryffindor’s next, though, in a couple of weeks. They’ll be the actual competition.” You scoff. “Gryffindor is nothing. You’ll handle them just fine, I promise.” Draco leans forward to kiss you. Even despite the bite of the wind, you can still feel a sudden burst of heat radiating through you. “Well, as long as I’ve got you I know I’ll be fine. I looked for you in the stands, you know.” You smile up at him. “I was there. Always am.”

The whole castle is in a buzz over the game. The Ravenclaw team has been training nonstop in preparation, but Slytherin still beat them easily. At this rate, the Hogwarts final will be a walk in the park. Draco still heads out to the pitch all the time, broom in hand and ready to practice, but you can tell by the ease in his shoulders that he’s ready to win.

Your footsteps echo through the stone corridors, joining the storm of chatter that bounds off of the arched hallways. You doubt Hogwarts has ever been quiet in its long history- too many students, too many spells, never enough time for silence to draw a breath. As you round a corner, though, you’re struck by a sudden lull in the hubbub that surrounds you. It’s brief, but just enough that you recognize a few voices. Hermione, Ron, and a few others.

You pause. You were intending to go back to your common room and finish up a few essays, but you’ve got no actual plans to fill your time. Why not go chat with your friends? You switch directions, crossing over the hallway to turn around a bend and rejoin the Gryffindors. You’re hidden from them by the stone corner of the wall, and you’re almost about to catch up to them when you hear more of their conversation. With a sinking feeling, you realize you know exactly what they’re talking about.

Ron is speaking now. “-and that’s what I was talking about. Quidditch tryouts are going to be opening up next year, and a lot of the oldest members of the team will be leaving. I’d go out and practice, but the field’s swamped with everyone trying to do the same thing I am and learn broom skills before the summer.” Hermione clicks her tongue understandingly. “I have the same issue around exam season. All I want to do is go to the library in peace, and then it’s swarmed with all the kids doing their best not to fail.”

She hesitates a second. “Actually, remind me if you’ve got any brooms to spare. Y/N and I were talking about going over some Quidditch skills. Everyone around us plays the sport, and all flying lessons stopped after the first year. We were thinking it would do some good to have a refresher on the finer points of broomstick flying.” Ron laughs, muttering something about the finer points of broomstick flying, really, Hermione, you’re making it sound so dull under his breath. However, a new voice rings out beside them, and you realize that you recognize it. It’s Oliver Wood, captain of the Gryffindor Quidditch team. He must still be anxious over the recent Slytherin victory and the upcoming crushing defeat awaiting the Gryffindors, because his voice is cold.

“The Slytherin? Why the hell would you want that?” It’s not just the fact that he didn’t say your name, or the way you can practically see him turning to Hermione in shock. It’s the disgust in his voice, the sheer revulsion in his voice at the thought of ever speaking to you. He says Slytherin in the same way you might say vermin or dementor, and it cuts you to the core. You’re remembering key facets of Oliver Wood now, the way he clings to the Gryffindor-Slytherin rivalry with as much fervor as he does to his broom. He would never see you as anything more than a snake, and to be honest, the same is likely true with Ron and Hermione. They’re not defending you right now, are they? No, they’re just continuing on with the conversation.

You feel sick to your stomach. You had considered them friends, people you could talk with and not regret a thing. Did they see you as anything more than the one average Slytherin, someone they would tolerate to your face and loathe behind your back? You turn away from them, shouldering your bag and walking hurriedly back down the hall so they can’t see you. You head straight down towards the Slytherin common rooms, but with every step you can feel your spirits sinking. One of the worst hurts is when a friend insults you, but this is worse. They don’t even think of you as a friend, and they would have no problems with tossing you aside.

Finally, you reach the seemingly innocuous stretch of stone wall that marks the entrance to the Slytherin common room. You stand before it, muttering the password under your breath. “Hemlock.” The wall slides away, revealing the long-awaited common room. Usually, your eye would be drawn to the intricately carved stone ceiling and columns, the tall bookcases of dark wood that house every manuscript you can think of, but not today. Even the roaring fire in its wrought iron gate seems cold, the emerald-cushioned chairs unappealing. You feel like you have a lump in your throat that seems to choke you if you even think of straying by the other students, and so you hurry on your way to your dorm. You’re not sure you want to be alone right now, but it’s better than having to force yourself to speak to anyone else.

However, it doesn’t look like you’ll get the opportunity to finally escape. A voice calls out to you as you cross the common room, and you groan inwardly as you realize it’s Draco. His tone is light, unburdened, but it hesitates with worry as he takes in your twisted face. He walks over to you, taking your hand in his. “Are you alright?” You try to tell him that you’re fine, cook up some lie that you’re just tired, but your tongue doesn’t seem to want to move. His eyes glance over the students clustered around the fire and chairs, unwanted ears that could hear your conversation, and an understanding seems to dawn on him.

Instead, he guides you over to the window seat on the far side of the common room, the one that holds the swirling waters of the lake behind it instead of a view of the grounds. He sits down, reaching out for you. He pulls you close, letting your head rest against his chest. Your legs stretch out over the window seat, and you watch as the shifting lights of the lake tint the air around you a comforting green. Draco’s voice is quiet when he finally speaks.

“Do you want to tell me what happened?” You sigh. “It’s nothing, just- Well, I was walking back here and I heard Ron, Hermione, and a couple of other Gryffindors talking. My name came up, and one of them seemed so disapproving, like he hated me just because of my house. I know we do the same thing to them, probably worse, but it still hurt in the moment.” You can feel him tensing underneath you, head tilting slightly in anger. You look up at him, shaking your head slightly. “Don’t do anything. I don’t even think they thought about it much. It’s not worth it to get a detention so close to the game.”

Draco presses a kiss to your forehead. “You’re too nice to them. They don’t deserve to be around you, and if they can’t see that, then I pity them. You’re far better than any of them, and they know it. They’re probably scared.” You chuckle quietly. “Only you could turn an insult into a compliment. I’m not sure they’re scared of me, I’m not very threatening.” Draco runs his fingers absentmindedly over your arm, tracing invisible patterns into your skin. “Maybe you’re not looking hard enough. I think you could hex any one of them into the hospital wing if you tried.”

You laugh in spite of yourself. “I think you just want me to hex them.” Draco smiles. “What’s wrong with that?” You roll your eyes, but you can already feel your mood lightening. “Thank you for listening.” Draco pulls you closer to him, nestling your head against his heart. “I’d do it any day you ask. You know that.” And you do.

#draco malfoy #draco malfoy imagines #draco malfoy x reader #harry potter #harry potter imagines #harry potter x reader #draco malfoy oneshot #harry potter oneshot

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egcdeath · 3 years

Text

birthdays with the boys

in honor of my own birthday, today i’ll be sharing with you what i think your birthday with many cevans characters would be like. enjoy! <3

steve rogers

he leaves his mission early and unannounced so when you wake up to the smell of pancakes in your house, and a man with breakfast in bed you almost jump out of your skin buuut you couldn’t be happier to see him

breakfast in bed is just the start of your bday because he goes ALL. OUT.

as you finish up eating, he grabs a folded piece of paper with a wax seal on it and hands it to you

he tells you to open it once he leaves, gives you a wink, then goes

he planed a birthday scavenger hunt for you!!!

for the rest of the day, you travel around the city to a bunch of important places in your relationship, like your fav dates n stuff

at the midway point of the hunt, he meets you for a coffee and makes sure you’re still enjoying everything before he sends you off with the avenger’s company card and basically tells you to get something nice before finishing the hunt hehe

you do in fact get yourself something nice

at the end of the hunt, you end up at the compound where all of your friends and teammates are and you have a very nice birthday party

by the time that you and steve go home, you’re exhausted but wanna spend a lil more time savoring your birthday so steve suggests that the two of you watch that one cheesy rom com that you love (and he hates)

as you cuddle on the couch, popping the occasionaly popcorn kernel in your mouth, you cant help but to feel grateful that you have such an amazing boyfriend

ransom drysdale

his birthdays were always disregarded when he grew up, so he has a very extravagant celebration planned for you

we all know that he can make a pretty airtight and elaborate plan so you literally have zero idea of what he’s got up his sleeve

enter: a whole birthday week

(he sweet talked your boss into some time off so thats one whole thing you don’t have to worry about)

day one is a whole spa and a shopping day

he can’t stand some of your friends but he invites them anyway bc he knows it’ll make you happy

he’s glaring at your friends while they giggle about some new louis vuitton purse and you’re thoroughly amused by it

you give him extra kisses that night as a reward for not instigating any fights that day (awww bf of the year am i right ladies?)

day two you guys do a museum hop and look at lots of art

ransom rolls his eyes at canvases that have a few drops of paint on them and are called modern art, you think this is hilarious

day three you have a picnic together in a park

ransom knows you have an affinity for charcuterie boards and attempts to make you one himself (and it’s not all that bad), along with a bunch of dainty little sandwiches

later that day, you go to a planetarium together

on your drive back home you have an interesting convo on the meaning of life

day 4 you take a pottery class together

ransom makes the most deformed bowl you’ve ever seen in your life

so naturally you put it up for display in your bedroom (so whenever you see it you can think of him)

day five is a first class flight to some luxurious villa in europe. most of day five is taken up on a plane

ransom lets you lay your head on him while you sleep, even though the position you’re in is making it astonishingly uncomfortable for him

day six you guys explore the city all day together

ransom makes sure not to complain about his aching legs (even though yours are getting sore too, and if he said something you would’ve done something about it!)

on your real birthday (day seven), ransom takes you out to a very nice dinner, and gives you a hand written letter detailing how much he loves and cares about you (because sometimes it’s hard for him to say his feelings)

you’re extremely flattered but have no idea how you’ll top this for his own birthday

andy barber

you and andy aren’t really huge on big gestures, so he does little things throughout the day

while you’re at work, he makes a surprise stop by and brings you your favorite drink & lunch from your favorite food place

he sends a bouquet of flowers to your job as well

after work, he cooks for you then showers you in gifts

your favorite thing that he gets you is a little engraved necklace with yours and his initials on it

at the end of the day, he gives you a nice full body massage and somehow that was exactly what you needed.

maybe not the most extravagant birthday, but a good one nonetheless.

frank adler

you have a pretty chill birthday with him and mary

he brings you a cake that him and mary made/decorated together

it’s kind of hideous but you love it

you guys let mary skip class for just 1 (one) day but tell her to keep it a secret

you call the school and let her fake being sick in the background. it is a hoot

you all go to the zoo together

you take tons of pictures

your personal favorite is one where mary and frank are posing with a giraffe

after the zoo, you go bowling

when you win, the sore losers that came with you claim they were letting you win since it was your birthday

you end your day at the beach, watching mary and her cat play in the sand in your peripheral vision while you and frank admire the sunset

ah, sweet, sweet domesticity

ari levinson

you go to an escape room to celebrate your birthday

it’s just you and ari, but you’re smart so you don’t expect it to be too difficult

🚨wrong🚨

you’re both so hard headed and stubborn that doing any of the tasks is like pulling teeth

eventually the building had to close, and you’ve only finished like... a few tasks in the hours you’ve been there

this was certainly not a bad birthday though, arguing with ari is one of your favorite pastimes

and this birthday certainly did not disappoint

jake jensen

you and the rest of your team decided to go to a little retro arcade for the first half of the night

you spent way more time than necessary watching jake attempt to beat the high score of some random game

after giving up on beating the highest score on a pac-man machine, jake decided to attempt to win you a prize on the claw machine

like, $20 and a few annoyed humans in line behind him later, it was still nothing

when jake finally gave up, the next person in line won the soft and plushy elephant you had your eye on

and while your back was turned, he may or may not have paid off its rightful owner in order to get it with you

it was too sweet of a gesture for you to even try to be annoyed with jake

a bit later, you decided to partake in a game of laser tag which was going on in the same building

this was fine and dandy buuuut

everyone on your team treated every mission (real or fictional) like the end of the world

this made for a few very interesting matches

jake nearly trampled a child more than one time

good thing everyone was required to sign a waiver before playing

a custody battle over which team got to have cougar seemed to be a consistent theme during the night

when you were on different teams, you couldn’t help but notice that jake was getting a little too much pleasure out of shooting you

it was fine because you were equally enthusiastic about shooting him

you were eventually booted from the game when an employee claimed you were all being too rough

at some point you lost the elephant

but luckily for you, you found it before you went home

you were going to keep that elephant forever

johnny storm

you were genuinely convinced that johnny forgot your birthday

he did not bring it up ONCE the whole day

you’re actually kind of hurt for a while and get all in your head

johnny gets the silent treatment 🙄 (but he deserves it)

you decide to stop moping and go out, since it issss your birthday

you do your makeup and put on a skimpy little dress

as you leave your room and start enter the communal portion of the baxter building, johnny stops you and checks you out

he’s like “where are you going????”

and you’re like “out 😐”

and he’s like “are you sure? 🤨”

and you’re like yes duh

then he gestures to the side really quickly and you’re kinda confused then a whole bunch of people pop out and start cheering for your birthday

you’re kinda embarrassed that you spent so much of the day moping but you quickly get over it because you love a good party

by the time that most of your guests are gone, you force johnny to take you out to the club

and of course you warn him not to ever pull a stunt like that again

lucas lee

he forgot it was your birthday

#steve rogers x reader #ransom drysdale x reader #andy barber x reader #frank adler x reader #jake jensen x reader #johnny storm x reader #lucas lee x reader #ari levinson x reader #headcanon #chris evans x reader

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