thepalebutterfly

[thepalebutterfly]

Arlecchinui

[thepalebutterfly]

Sorry for making you explain all the yutus but can you do Jades? Bros gotta be so overprotective 😬

Jokes on you I am always down to talk about Jade Leech (my beloved)

notes: they/them used for Yuu, for context on the fyuuture kid au can be found here and here. I think I typed up way more for this than anyone else up to this point, I'd apologize but it has been a second since I brain rotted about Jade, so excuse me for feeding myself (づ_ど)

Put yourself in Jade's shoes for a second.  He is a merfolk from the coral sea, only able to appear human through the use of a potion but still retaining his inhuman features.  He tries hard to appear human, he goes to a boot camp where so many things have to be explained that he is able to mimic but doesn't fully understand.  There's no reason for you to like him, he knows that better than anyone; he doesn't fully understand why he's attracted to you himself but he is.  And he longed after you for so long, he was drowning in his desire that had such a little chance of being reciprocated but by some miracle it was.  You stay in Twisted Wonderland, you let him take you under the sea and agree to be kept there.  You're going to give him a family, he's beyond excited and filled with feelings of love he didn't think he'd ever get to have.

And then it's gone.  There's no evidence as to why, no one to tell him where you went.  Azul starts off confident, excited at the prospect of revenge and encouraging Jade.  They'll find them, between him, Jade, and Floyd they'll find Yuu and someone will have a very bad day.  But there's nothing, they're being lied to and stonewalled at every turn and when finally (it's been 10 months 3 weeks and two days, he could count down to the hours and seconds but who would listen?) Riddle of all people contacts them with a lead, he's dead almost immediately.  Turned into a phantom, all of those friends of yours he was so jealous of too… no one is telling him but he knows.  You're not coming back, he's never going to meet your child, he failed at a moray's one job of protecting his cleaner shrimp.  When he's alone he talks to you both sometimes, nights when you can see the stars are becoming increasingly rare as the sky flares up with ink but he likes to think you found your way up to the sky.  

When he loses Floyd and Azul he sort of loses his will to live.  The only thing that keeps him going is the promise of one day being able to lay them both to rest eventually, but until then he bar tends at NRC and listens to all the little things people talk about when the world is ending. If he was in a better place he'd probably find it funny how lose people's lips are getting, Azul’s business would be doing so well if he were here now…

That's what he's doing one day in September when one of the mage students runs up to him out of breath, Sherish he thinks her name is?  

“The headmage needs you in the hospital wing!”  She sounds scared, out of breath like she's run the whole way and Jade is just curious enough to go.  Something spurs him on to run himself, through the mirror and into the wing and-  

He doesn't even hesitate, his body acts before his brain does launching him towards you and grasping desperately at your hands.  They're cold, you're going cold and he doesn't have the warmth in his body to give you.  Something has mercy on him and let's your eyes open just the bit as you reach just as desperate to be close to him as he is to you and he feels your strength pass into him.  

“Don't apologize.”  He manages to whisper.  

“But I'm sorry.”  You cry.  “I love you so much and I couldn't forget even though they wanted me to.”  

“Who did this.  Who took you just name them and I promise you my pearl-”  he gets to kiss you one more time before your gone.  Jade doesn't move, he thinks Crewel is yelling for his attention but he can't move, he wants to stay here forever he has to protect you, why wasn't he able to protect you?!

“Oh holy fuck that tastes bad.”  There's a dazed voice Jade has never heard before, heavy with sorrow, and though he doesn't quite have it yet, Jade feels purpose begin to return to his heart.

Jade! Yutu is a menace.  I like the idea of him being some form of punk or goth, with piercings and a few tattoos that Yuu doesn't know anything about.  He grew up with a small group of close knit alt friends who would come over to Yuu's house and shoot the shit.  Yuu was really popular with Yutu's friends actually, he had mixed feelings about that. (No, his parent isn't accepting step-father applications, Joshua, keep running your mouth and see what happens)

Has a mixed ranged of emotions about his parent's amnesia. When he was younger not knowing who his dad was made him really sad, he'd listen to other kids talk about doing things with their fathers and he'd dream about doing them with his dad, but the picture was always blurry and felt just... wrong somehow. As he gets older and starts forming his world view he starts to think his dad might have left Yuu for any number of reasons. Did it happen before or after their amnesia, that's what he wants to know.

He has a pretty big problem with authority, residual trauma from the trip across worlds he thinks now… but back in your world he just didn't see the point of respecting someone just because they have more money and power than him.  Almost everyone does, that doesn't make them special!  But he's so sneaky about it, if it weren't for his clothes or his friends Yuu would hardly know what he gets up to in his spare time. It put a bit of strain on their relationship, Yutu sees his lies as something he does to protect his parent, while Yuu sees themselves as well.  A parent.  Who is the one who should be protecting their child not the other way around.  

When he tries to pull similar stunts with Original Timeline! Jade he gets a rude awakening. He tries sneaking out to meet up with some friends only to find his dad sitting with them, polite smile on his face clearly reveling in how awkward he is making this.  Oya, did Yutu think he was being slick?  He's hurt, no really this is the first time Jade has had to fake cry in years, he'd almost forgot how.  Didn't Yutu ever wonder where he got this from?  Because he had to know it wasn't Yuu.

Jade! Yutu also played in a band in middle school and also played bass, it just wasn't a jazz trio or an upright bass.  He would have liked continued to play in bands, but he shares his dad's issues with stage fright which makes it sort of difficult. He has tried his hand at writing his own music from time to time, but he's waaaaay too shy to ever play it for anyone other than the woods.

He really likes horror stories and cryptids, so he wasn't super afraid of the monsters when he first arrived in Twisted Wonderland.  One round with Phantom Riddle changed that nonchalant attitude quick, and while he still is very attached to the stuff he read about back in your world he hates blot monsters and Twisted Wonderland fiends in general.

Speaking of those monsters, Jade hates Yutu fighting them.  Father and son are an absolute nightmare for Crewel to deal with, one is threatening to drown him if Yutu is allowed to fight, the other is screaming curse words and saying it doesn't matter what Crewel does, he's going anyway.  He needs a drink (but not from Jade's bar he's going to get poisoned) 

I don't think Yutu actually told Jade he was planning on going back in time because he was angry and just assumed that he would try and stop him.  He's really proud of himself for the first few weeks he spends in the past thinking he got one over on his old man finally (he didn't, but he did hurt him quite a bit), but the more he interacts with the younger version of his parents the more he starts to regret that decision.

Past Jade is so… fun.  He thinks his dad is fun?!  His weird obsession with mushrooms was never something they talked about beyond a few compliments his dad gave to a mushroom patch he had on his jacket; watching his old man prattle on now he never would have guessed any of this.  Yutu never doubted that Jade loved you, but he didn't really think about what that looked like, or what you might have meant to Jade.  They just didn't talk about it, now that he's forced to think about it Jade was probably trying to focus on having him back and how lucky he was to even have that.  And instead of being honest about how angry he was to have lost you he lied and said he was fine.  With how good his dad was at knowing when he was lying Jade had to know that's how he felt, but respected his boundaries and didn't push. All those comments about being there when he's ready to talk, all the times Jade said he loved him, and those long nights he watched from afar as Jade sat with tea next to your grave, just talking to you as if you were still there are put into context. Yutu isn't able to sleep for a few nights after that.

Jade finds Yutu interesting.  He's a potential source of information about Yuu, a lot of his quirks remind him of himself and he finds the new kids blatant disrespect for authority to be hilarious! And hilariously good blackmail material, now now don't be afraid he really is just here to help...

"Nice try old man you won't pull shit out of me." Yutu sounds smug, but Jade knows when his spell has worked and when it hasn't; how delightful he doesn't seem to remember someone ever being so cocky about it before.

"That's a shame." He makes sure to make his face fall to keep the new kid off his guard as he continues his questioning. "It's just I am curious where did you come from? I thought Yuu's world doesn't have magic."

"I mean it doesn't, probably never would have been able to come back in time if I was still stuck there." Yutu blinks, clarity starting to come into view as Jade pushes through the surprise to ask a final question.

"Oya? And just why did you come back in time, were you worried about Yuu?"

"Of course I'm worried about my parent what sort of stupid question is-" Yutu returns to himself and treats Jade to a look of shock so rare and downright delightful he can't help but smile himself. "Hey just what did you do?"

Old man? What a disrespectful thing to call his father, no wonder his future self never told his son about his unique magic. Jade doesn't have time to doubt his affections for Yuu, once Yutu realizes he's fucked and can't get out of admitting that was the truth he tells Jade who he is and a bit about what the future is like. Jade can tell he's keeping a few details back, but he knows himself well enough to know that everything Yutu is describing would have changed him to a degree that he might not have been in the best mental space to help his son through the loss of Yuu.

Speaking of Yuu, Jade asks Yutu to keep his existence to himself for a bit. He wants to win over your affections without the help of the future looming in your thoughts, he only gets to have this part of his life with you once and he intends to savor it. But the confidence boost he gets from knowing you do end up as his mate does have him acting a bit goofy for a bit. Floyd and Azul are legitimately scared.

They are brought up to speed as Jade insists on introducing Yutu to them "properly" and he is every inch the proud father showing off their new baby to the relatives even though Yutu is practically his height and has a bunch of piercings. Floyd takes a liking to him immediately while Azul is a bit more awkward, not that he doesn't like Yutu he's just a lot different from anyone Azul has ever met before so he's unsure how to sell himself. Luckily he doesn't have to because Yutu appreciates his genuine self just like Floyd, Jade, and Yuu do.

Jade gladly invites Yutu to join the Mountain Lover's Club and is very excited when he says yes. Yutu finds a lot of enjoyment in helping his dad work mushrooms into Azul and Floyd's food by pretending to agree with their complaints. Floyd is so mad he calls Yuu and tells them to come get their kid.

The over protectiveness doesn't end exactly, but Yutu is more willing to understand and Jade is more able to explain himself. They're both extremely protective of Yuu and in sound agreement that nothing like Yutu's future can ever be allowed to come to pass. Jade wanted a family, so to learn that he got that and someone took it away from him? Future him was overwhelmed with grief but current him is overwhelmed with rage. Remember book four? He described what he would do to someone who betrayed him, and it wasn't pretty. His plans for whoever did this to his precious mate and child is going to get so much worse.

[thepalebutterfly]

SCHISM. jade leech

You could not grab a full-bodied mushroom, that had already lived a life outdoors, and stick it into a terrarium. "I know the pieces fit because I watch them tumble down" - TOOL, Track 5 on Lateralus

tags: established relationship, relationship issues, soul bond, ghost camera, angst w a happy? ending, character study, parental crewel, mental breakdown(s), crowley finds a way to send the prefect home, grimms fairytales, tattoos

word count: 16,920

“No! NoNONO! Wait, Jade! Cut it out Jade! Jade!” 

The words you let out are overflowing with terror. Palpable fear making itself known by method of your vocal cords. Out of you comes one last fruitless, ignored shriek of his name before you cry like a child on a rollercoaster. With you in his arms, Jade falls back first off the cliffside.

Catlike, you cling onto your boyfriend. Pointed nails dig deeply into his neck, causing little injuries and indents. The fall is short and, before you know it, you are both underwater, weightless.

It is freezing and awful and warm and great all at the same time. You want to resurface immediately. Which you do, kicking yourself out of the constricting arms around your waist. Lake water ripples and billows. Once you surface, you expect to hear that mocking laughter. Rivulets of water cascade down your neck and face as you bring two soaking wet hands up to your temple to wipe away water – rather fruitless. But you clear the skin over your eyes and open them, searching for what you thought you would find in sound.

“My clothes are drenched, Jade,” you whine, knowing he can hear you no matter if he is underwater. 

The lake remains a calm surface, no body popping up. Kicking your legs and waiting, you glance up at the cliffside Jade had thrown both of you off of. Sun burns the palm you face up to its golden rays, protecting your eyes. There is, sitting all pretty. The mushroom you had been going to collect lies unplucked. Next to it, your pair of sunglasses that had fallen off your nose when you were lifted as easily as a mischievous cat.

Though, you are not the mischievous one in this. That description belongs to another: the one sly predator swimming underwater and avoiding surfacing for mischievous reasons most likely. Who were kidding, you think watching still waters, definitely for those types of reasons.

And you only get one warning – a hand pinched on your nose and a hand cupping your mouth – before you are dragged right back underwater. 

You thrash wildly. A lean body folds and tilts itself over you. You punch at where you think his shoulder or rib-cage is. He spins you once then twice underwater, disorienting you. You clutch at his shirt and pull. He kicks at your right leg and bends your body as if it is a bow. Wrestling against one another, your objective to resurface and his objective to dance clash until finally Jade pulls you up for air.

This time mocking laughter accompanies the cool sting of air. “Ugh, you jerk! You absolute – ugh!! My clothes!” Your punching fist is caught. Jade twists it and wraps it around his neck in an amorous hold like you two were going to start tango-ing. He laughs, subdued chortling at your furious expression. 

“Fufufu, you should’ve seen your face.”

“This is Floyd level behavior! I cannot believe you!”

“Come now, (Name). You were just complaining about the heat.”

You gasp, offended. “The heat?! You did this because –”

“Because I wanted to assist my love however I could? Yes, of course. I do need to take care of you after all.”

“Oh, you ass,” you growl and dig your nails in the back of his neck. 

Jade is unaffected by your humane strength. Instead, Jade smiles at your attempt to inflict any harm on him. His lips pull up and you are struck breathless by the visage of him. Sunlight falls on his glass-clear skin in an evangelical way. Teal hair is pressed down by water, slick with a rare shine. Even with black eyeliner smudged raccoon-esque, his eyes are piercing and vibrant. A lemon and an olive, rich like plucked from a painting. You punch his latissimus for being so effortlessly handsome at times.

With clipped and vexed words, you say, “I’m cool now. Thank you.”

“It’s my pleasure.” His white smile is aggravatingly handsome too. “Don’t I get a reward for my consideration,” Jade asks, not missing a beat, simply floating with you in his arms.

“Take me back to the shore?”

“Of course I will.”

“Okay, here’s your reward,” you say, pecking him on the lips. “Now then.” Your gaze sharpens. “Shore. Now.”

When you two finally reach the lake’s sandy border, you start to wring out your button-up. You will not walk around in wet clothes. The dripping fabric of your tank top suctions itself to your skin in an unrelenting, octopus-like grip. You glare when Jade openly stares. Half-lidded eyes trace up and down the curvatures of you. Taking the shoulder ends of your button-up, you whip the material down hard once then twice then thrice, watching as water droplets splash your boyfriend. 

Take that, you think triumphantly as you remove another article of clothing.

Jade gets back at you by taking his own wet button-up and wringing it out over your head rather than over the dirt like you had done. Dropping the shoe you were shaking water out of, you attack him and his self-satisfied, coy smirk. 

It takes about five minutes of horseplaying until you two get back on task. 

You sit on shore, squeezing water out of socks and mourning when Jade was more cowardly about touching. All two sets of teeth yet no bite. Endearing courting methods involved gifts, and even then, he was earnestly timid about it. Hand like a shield on his heart all the time as if to translate, be gentle with me. 

Rolling a still damp sock back on your foot, you think that message was truly worth ignoring. Jade Leech and gentle were antonymous. 

Still, there was a certain charm about his slyness. The fake humanitarianism he wore in his finely pressed uniform and neat bow was attractive. The glowing, angular silhouette of those sharp, up-turned eyes could still make you swoon. Something about him being out of reach was magnetizing. 

But … you watch as Jade walks up to you, your mushroom and sunglasses in his hand, there is something equally magnetizing in unlocking this part of him. 

And you have to admit the dip into the lake did wonders dropping down your temperature. Now you were not losing by such a large margin in the battle against heat stroke. 

You let him have this win. And you let him come to you. Accepting your sunglasses, you lay them to perch on the crown of your head. Before he offers a hand out to you, Jade carefully places your mushroom in the bucket you two have been wandering around with. He drapes his wet button-up over the button, electing to stay in his own tank top.

“Not going to dry out your socks?”

“No, I happen to enjoy the feeling of walking around in wet socks. Reminds me of home”

“You’re incorrigible.”

A smile splits across Jade’s face at your harsh words. Stalactites and stalagmites of razor enamel shine in his mouth, menacingly. And yet he offers out a hand to you, nails trimmed down to the plate, safe and warm even if it is calloused a bit.

Your eyes trail over him. Past shoes and compression tights and white cargo shorts. Gliding over the palm of his pallid hand and over the black eel skeleton made of tattoo ink which wraps itself from elbow to shoulder. Up to his collarbone, to his face, and to his eyes. 

A fond thought arrives in the mailbox of your mind. It is a letter perfumed in heart, base, and top notes of aquatic and woody scents. The smell of stepping on the beach and breathing it all in so deeply that your ribs ache. As the letter’s wax seal melts off, you read and transcribe the letter into the passionate smile on your lips and the way you trust yourself with holding Jade’s hand. The letter reads: I think I want to spend the rest of my life with him.

That was only yesterday.

That was only yesterday. Now, that mental letter means nothing to you. 

How quickly our opinions can change, you reflect, standing in Crowley’s office with a pearl of torment clutched in the bowels of a stomach ready to puke. 

When you were summoned to Dire Crowley’s office, you were vexed more than anxious. In your head bounced around the theories on what under-the-table job the Headmaster was kindly electing for you to take care of. Another thirty plus stack of papers he did not want to write his signature on or another school activity that you would be generously put in charge of. You weighed the options of work as Grim (perched on your shoulder) weighed the options of what you would ask for as a reward.

“Tuna croquettes, Henchman, imagine the taste of those! When Crowley gives us our job, ask for those! Ask for tuna –”

“What even is a croquette? When did you learn a French word?” You can already guess the answer to the second question: if it involves food, not even a language barrier can stop Grim from learning about it.

“They’re these breaded balls of tuna that are deep-fried.” You stick your tongue out in disgust. “They look delicious. You can dip them in honey or put them on crackers. Oh, Henchman, you have to ask for them. And we should pick up more honey for home.”

“I’ll remember to pick up honey. I can’t promise any tuna coqu –”

“Croquettes.”

“Croquettes. You know, you need to stop watching food blogs or going on websites like Food & Wine. I found my phone opened up to twelves tabs of just food blog recipes last week.”

“I’m not the one browsing them. Jade is.”

“Well, I’m cutting both you and Jade off. You’re grounded from looking at food blogs together. I can only handle so many different ways to organize a bento box before I go crazy.”

“Henchman,” Grim whines, nuzzling his fur against your cheek. “But they all look so yummy.”

“Grounded,” you had declared just before pushing open the door to Dire Crowley’s office, knowing he was already expecting you. How you wish you could re-spark that easy conversation between you and Grim. How you yearn to have the foresight to ignore his summoning.Now, you stand in front of Crowley, frozen. 

“He-Henchman,” Grim whines, trying to get you to speak or at the very least blink.

Blind-sighted is the only accurate description for you. Your eyes sit in your skull like wispy white spider eggs, paralyzed. If breathing were not a necessity, you would dare not even breathe. Vision blurring, you focus on the thin lips of Crowley underneath his raven masquerade mask, replaying all he had said. Salted water twitches on your bottom eyelashes. 

After seven volatile overblots, the too close for comfort spell of comatose casted over the entire world, and two years of rapidly draining hope, you had a way to go home through the assistance of the Dark Mirror and Dire Crowley.

You think you really are going to puke.

The only thing that halts your throat from cleaning itself of previous dishes is the bite of Grim’s fangs on your cheek. Like four tiny needles, his fangs sink in with a vengeance. You startle back with a yelp, stepping back, fruitlessly because your attacker is still laying on your shoulder. “Grim, ouch!” Blood holds itself unsteady in the puncture mark before one droplet slides down your cheek. You bat him off your shoulder. “That hurt.”

Grim lands gracefully in the space between you and the Headmaster. He turns around on two legs, neck craning to look up at you. His eyes are wishing wells of cerulean blue. You know what that sorrowful color means without his frowning eyebrows telling you his thoughts indirectly. “You’re not planning on going are you, (Name)?”

You are not a fantastic multitasker but you might just find yourself puking and crying. The wobble in his voice as if his emotions were an earthquake. How were you to explain what it was to yearn for family when Grim’s only family was … his only family was you. 

“Gr-Gri,” your bottom lip trembles. 

You find yourself unable to do anything but react to physical pain. Speaking meant acknowledging it. Ignoring Grim’s question, you look up at Crowley, past his lips to those glowing eyes. “Headmaster, I –” Your words pitifully stop there. No section of your mind can construct a sentence and you cannot even say Grim’s name fully.

You look at him with child-like vulnerability. Vulnerability seen in the eyes of kindergartens who are squeamish that the world has become big — the world offering more than just their four walled home — and thus look up at their teachers for guidance. Nervous without their parents around. Sevens, you are only nineteen. 

You cannot lie; I want to see them again.

Perhaps the desperation in your eyes is prominent because Dire Crowley quickly amends, “Now, this is not without some wiggle-room. I am not an unreasonable person! According to the Magic Mirror, you have exactly a month before the carriage arrives. Plenty of time! 

“Now, I have done my part in delivering the news,” Crowley says jovially. Jovially as if he has not turned your entire world on its head. 

“Wai –” 

You stutter. A hand is already pressed firmly on the small of your back. Your body shudders with a riptide of thoughts. Thinking about the conditions of how you will get home, thinking about asking for an extension, thinking about how unfair it all is. After Tsunotaro’s overblot, you managed to accept your place in Twisted Wonderland and one raindrop day causes all that to shift into a storm.

All the conditions of Crowley’s instruction fight in your head. Five talons on your back fight to move your catatonic body. You feel as elastic as rubber and as stone as granite. Somewhere far away, you think you hear Grim hiss. What are you going to tell Jade? And with that horrible thought, you allow yourself to be pushed out of the office.

You think you feel Grim crawl back up to your shoulder but you feel as if some supernatural force has kicked you into the back of the line, kicked you out of your mind. 

“Now (Name), please remember the Dark Mirror says this event only lasts for four hours. Think of it like a solar eclipse; it is a change of elements allowing this method to work. The carriage will ride past the –'' The rest of Crowley’s words waterfall out his mouth like white static. There is a strange ringing in your ears. You think you might pass out.

“I’ll keep that in mind,” you wag your tongue, speaking words you will not remember tomorrow. 

Crowley says something more but it is a breeze, wordless and untranslatable, before closing his door. You stare at the gradient of wood. There is an urge to knock on it again, worrying your memory is wrong and now is the first time you were called into Crowley’s office. But you know … how you know what reality this is. It feels like you left parts of your brain lobotomized and body amputated, lying beyond that gradient wood; missing parts of yourself.

You rub your cheek, a little blood gathering on your knuckle. Grim’s bite, you remember, bleeding as if you had dug into a pimple. “Huh? I.” Without fully gathering all the parts of yourself back up, you walk off after a breath of hesitation.

Grim hops off your shoulder as you two glide away. The physical burden of this situation is already a heavy weight on your shoulder, you do not need him adding to it. Observing that, Grim stays quiet on his two legs, keeping stride.

He feels his skin bubbling with questions. Your eyes are full of water refusing to fall. Will you two be returning to class or Ramshackle? You were called into Crowley’s office in the middle of Magic Analysis class. Would you really still have the fortitude to write up answers? 

Your mind was swimming with something much more tantalizing than the differences of divination magic in users like the Fates to users like Jafar. 

Grim watches you stop in the corridor. About two hallways away from Magic Analysis class. You stare ahead, blank and dollike; then, as if a horrid thought has passed into your mind, you move as fast as a scorpion. 

For the briefest moment, horror is in your eyes. A tight, clenching hand flies up to your face, slapping itself over your mouth as if you are going to vomit or scream. You squeeze your eyes tightly together, doubling over at the hip. Nails dig (four on the left and one thumb on the right side) into your cheek, forceful enough to leave marks. 

The pain is grounding. 

Hyperventilating for no more than ten seconds, you suddenly straighten up, taking a deep breath. You put the thought away like a child pushing their shoes into a cubby. When you look down at Grim, your eyes are dry as his big blue eyes implore you to speak. Your body shakes slightly like you have goosebumps running up and down your skin.

“Henchman?”

“Tuna croquettes. What would you say if I made some tonight,” you give Grim an unsteady smile but your voice is magically even. “You’ll have to pull your weight and help me. It’s been a while since we cooked together, right?”

Heartslabyul is the first to know. Thus is the natural law of order. 

There is probably an unconventional rule written down: lies can only be told on a Tuesday if the liar has prematurely prepared mealworms for the hedgehogs during noon … or … something eccentrically long like that. A rule only plausible for Heartslabyul standards. But you predicted, walking into Magic Analysis class yesterday, that Ace and Deuce were going to find out the truth first. Even if you were not prepared to tell them it.

The reveal was a far leap from graceful. Unplanned, your woes spilled out of Grim’s mouth, something about you not being there for finals. Sudden cobblestone hits your back. Wincing at the bite of the school wall, you wilt at the rapid fire of Ace and Deuce, not even getting space to speak, Ace starting:

“You only get a month! How long have you known!”

“Grim just told us you aren’t going to be here for finals, and he well – he!”

“He’s gotta be joking, right?”

“After Draconia’s overblot, I thought it was impossible to –”

“Prefect, I can not go through that again. I know I joke about sleeping forever. But those are jokes!”

“Ace! … But really how did Crowley and the Dark Mirror figure it out?”

“They haven’t contacted Briar Valley have they? Not even Crowley can be that suicidal.”

“I mean, I can totally understand if you want to go; we all have families but –”

“But you don’t want to go right, Prefect?”

“Ace, don’t just ask them that!”

“Oh shut it! Why shouldn’t I ask, you coward? No one else is gonna but us!”

“Wait, does anyone else know, (Name), besides Grim.”

“So no one else knows.” You nod. “Wait, when will you tell Jade?”

Never, a part of you thinks. Wanting to save yourself from the hurt, you judge wrongly that you can continue through this month without having to face Jade and tell him. You just want to avoid the pain. Cobblestone-made bruises hum on your shoulders, deep in reminder. 

You did not even get to break the news in Ramshackle, away from prying eyes. When you finally got a word in edgewise, you were still pressed against the outdoor wall of Night Raven College. The walking crowd was gratefully small … yet you stayed anxious over the idea anyone else would find out. The college was a hunting ground for weakness and each dorm was not above spreading a rumor. 

Your anger at Grim for revealing your predicament lasts only ten minutes. What good was fruitless anger when these might be your last days in Twisted Wonderland? 

Eventually, the group of five in Heartslabyul come to know. If Ace and Deuce knew something, the information eventually falls like dominoes to Cater, Trey, and Riddle. 

Even with two of the three away on their internship, the information was passed over. Your favorite cake appears glittering with magic residue on the porch of Ramshackle with a letter signed by Trey that leaves you shaking. Quotes on eternalism – specifically time’s finiteness – from books and poetry start to bloom on Cater’s Magicam stories, not enough to change his feed but enough to stir up suspicion, and you feel that pit in your stomach deepen.

Other than the five in Heartslabyul, you keep the predicament from everyone else. Tears welling up in Kalim’s eyes; disbelief writing itself on Ruggie’s face; the volume of Sebek’s concern mounting in your ears. You do not want to deal with any of it.

Jade … you do not want to even think of how that will blow over. Would you get tears? Most likely not. Would you be shouted at? No, you have not heard Jade really shout. Would his expression reveal his inner turmoil and disbelief? No, he is a master at schooling his expressions. So predictable yet not, you mourn, walking down the hallways to your next class.

When we are at the height of our most paranoid, we think that every conversation that we cannot hear is about us. 

You reflect upon this philosophy as you walk. Whenever glancing or idle eyes fall upon you, you get this stabbing pain running itself through your spinal cord. Your heart spikes when you see Riddle interact with Silver in class, jumping to the obvious: they are talking about me. Lips move yet sounds are unheard; in response, your heart drums a solo of fortissimo fear.

About three-fourth through the day, you leave Grim who has been gluing himself to your side with Deuce. Citing that you are feeling unwell and need to go to the nurse. No one argues with your firm insistence that you do not need a guide. 

Your feet carrying you to the Mostro Lounge is simply muscle memory. If you want to calm down, you go to Jade. Knowing his schedule too is all ingrained in you. 

The host sits you in a booth pressed snuggly against the aquarium’s glass. Upon your request, he neglects to give you a menu or coaster. This one time you will not be dining. You know it will vex Azul, taking up space where a paying customer could be, but you will make him forgive you. 

Underneath electric, pulsing blue lights, you sit like an egg in an incubator. Facing the stretching walls of a sixteen foot tall aquarium. Shielded and blanketed by cerulean and black shadows. Entirely still. 

What are you going to do? More people will come to know – people you care for and would not like to be torn from. And they will try to gauge or guide your decision, perhaps do both at once. You abhor that idea. All you really want right now is someone to be your rock to latch to when there is a riptide around you, someone who will be calm in the stare of a calamity. 

Questioning, your eyes trace the motions of a codfish. It is odd for one of them to be swimming off from the school. He swims on the very belly of the conjoined body the school has made, pressing the limits of harmony. 

The yellow-olive codfish starts to break the formation completely. Curious thing. You wonder if it has a disease. Determined, the codfish swims to the bottom of the aquarium, tail dilating back and forth as it heads down. But if a fish has an illness, usually they float? Ah, you are no marine biologist so you can never tell. 

Then, you finally spot what it wants. A mollusk resting against a rock formation, just shy of a fake shipwreck punched full of holes. The codfish descends down to it. Cold fingers go up to your lips, concealing a smile, effortlessly. Adopting his mannerisms, you think with a laugh. Ah … you really have been spending far too much time with Jade to the point where you mimic him.

You anticipate it this time. Sediment explodes in a puffing cloud. The codfish retreats almost comically. And, slowly like savoring his success, the moray eel slinks his head back through the cavern of the starboard, mollusk caught in his mouth. 

“Chamomile tea. It is known to soothe even the most anxious of souls.” 

To be honest, you would have expected that voice to be much closer. His chin hovering over your shoulder and teeth too close to your ear is typical. Turning to drink in the sight of him still in his waiter attire, you concede that you will have to get closer to him later.

You glance down at the ceramic, steam still rising from its watery mouth. “And you just happened to have it on hand?” It looks to be the perfect temperature too. The stream is not excessive or lacking. 

“On hand, why of course. I anticipated you coming here today.”

You raise a brow.

“It actually belongs to Table 5.”

Smiling, you pick up the teacup. Warm ceramic nuzzles into your palms and you take a generous sip. Near you like a guiding presence, Jade watches with one hand over his heart and the other holding the tray behind his back. “Well, I say my soul is subsequently soothed now. Thank you.”

He bows, bent at the hip, like a chivalrous knight. “Now,” he says as he tucks the tray under his arm, pulling out his notepad, “I sure hope the scenery alone hasn’t brought you to us today. Would you like to order now or later?”

“Aw, why do I get on the clock Jade and not boyfriend Jade.”

“Because I am paid by the customer.”

“But aren’t I just priceless?”

“The special of the day is also priceless. Monkfish. Though I’m assuming lobster rolls sound more appetizing to you than monkfish piccata.”

You hear your stomach growl at the notion. You gasp when Jade’s pen starts to move across the paper. Leaning off the booth, you push at the side of his stomach, glaring playfully. “Hey, no writing! I’m here to freeload; don’t ruin that for me.”

Chuckling, Jade starts to lean down to you, teeth all on his display. He looks ready to bite at your lips, all mischievous and elevated that you will definitely bite back. Staring each other down, you startle suddenly at Jade’s next move. Quite quickly, Jade shoots back up, wincing with his gloved knuckle pressed under his nose. 

“Jade?” You blink up at him as he furiously rubs the bridge of his nose. “Do you need a tissue?” 

“No, I'm fine, my love.” He gives one last rub to his nose. “Felt a sneeze coming on.” 

Looking at him unconvinced, you hum when Jade pushes your teacup of chamomile closer to you. Then, he grabs your right hand sweetly, squeezing it. Your eyes meet again. Sevens, you could fall into those eyes as easily as a suicidal man falls into a noose. 

“Why don’t you drink some more and I’ll be back shortly with food for us?”

“Us? Aren’t you on the clock?”

“You’re stressed,” he states like he is noting that you are wearing a certain article of clothes. As if it is obvious. His thumb runs itself up and down the ladder of your tense knuckles. “It’s a little evident, dear.”

Panic writes itself on your face. “Is it really?”

“Hm, now it is.” Referring to the way your eyebrows clench and your voice whispers in fearful tones. A manipulative, proud smile crawls onto his face. “But I know your soul after all, so it is evident to me.”

Jade lets your hand go, making sure you rest it on the teacup. Urging you one last time to drink, he stalks off to get you both some food for an impromptu lunch together. You watch his back as he disappears into the kitchen, blue light raining down on him.

Sweet and mild dyed water runs down your throat, on a mission to relieve you of stress. When you have about half a cup left, you set it down, contemplating.

You were so grateful for Jade. If you were only friends with him, you would have told him about this first. Advice from a Leech with benevolent intentions is often the best advice. Even Floyd, who is very go with the flow, is so emotionally intelligent. And Jade … Jade would not pressure you to give his details about your misfortune but he would also not allow misfortune to ruin you. Refusing to intervene too early or too late. He is like that sacred rock in the riptide. 

However, you and him are dating. That makes certain topics difficult to breach. 

Chamomile tea still the ideal temperature, you stare back at your reflection in the liquid. They pull down their lips. Worry has gathered fast and voluminous in their eyes like ants crawling all across a dead mouse on the ground, coating the brown fur to a patchy, thick black. Sizing up a reflection, you reflect on previous conversation.

Chamomile tea. It is known to soothe even the most anxious of souls. 

But I know your soul after all.

Souls. Soul. 

Perhaps you can tell Jade what is going on, just without directly telling him.

The Ghost Camera is a bulky thing. All heavy brass, that precious metal silver, and nickel. It almost tumbled out of your hands and into water during Camp Vargas; you could only imagine the speed it would have sunk at if Floyd had shorter arms. Eventually, you stop carrying it daily after your first year. Yet, you refuse to part from it entirely, still taking photos when you have it on you.

Perhaps it is an effect of being born in the very early 2000s but you adore having photo albums. Your parents had ten of you alone, separate from your siblings, and half of your childhood on camcorder films. It is in your DNA to keep memories. 

Or Memories as the fragments are called.

Though, you sympathize with Grim that a whole room of photo albums might be extensive. But you have a whole house to yourself! And Sam sold you photo album books at a very cheap price because no one at a college wants to have physical reminders of being at college. 

And how they could become physical reminders.

There is no system for the room crammed with albums. You do not have not enough time to delegate a day to organize each album by person, dorm, or month. So, letting fate guide you, you pick up three books, cradle them in your arms, and announce to an unimpressed cover, “Okay, let’s do this.”

The Ghost Camera is unique. Takes ordinary, unsuspecting photos then does a full 180 by being enchanted with magic. 

When the user photographs a subject, it photographs a part of their soul along with the physical form. Memories are those soul fragments. If a soulbond between user and subject comes to be, it allows Memories to move across the surface like twenty second animated clips. If a soulbond between user and subject deepens, Memories can slip out of the photograph and take on corporal forms. 

One night you dreamt of chasing a rabbit and woke to Ace, who had slipped out of the photo, standing over your bed. How you screamed. Until he floated silently back into the photo you had on your nightstand.

Once, a fake Floyd had tried to juggle three glasses of spice in your kitchen before one had fallen through his flickering, tangible then not-tangible hand. Then, the Memory had the nerve to melt away, leaving you with three broken spice jars. 

Malleus had once strolled down the hallways of Ramshackle, mumbling over the decorations you hang onto walls of a once abandoned building, before sliding down a hallway, never to be seen from again that day. 

The only way you can feel a Memory from the real person is the lack of warmth. It is like stepping out of a toasty car at the peak of winter. Memories carry along with them an icy breeze, unable to be fully human. 

Grim is in bed asleep, warm, and you really only have time to do this now. Walking down to the lobby, you slide your hand over the spine of the albums. If you can ask whoever is in here for their advice, you never have to reveal the situation until you are at the ready. 

A dodge on your part but who readily jumps into despair? 

You collapse on the couch. With the weight of the albums in hand, a horrid thought passes in your mind. Cinderella’s stepsisters and the glass slippers.

Cinderella’s stepsisters, you will always be like them. You will have to slice off your heel and toes — as if you are carving into an apple or slicing down into a row of carrots — to fit into the glass slipper of Twisted Wonderland. Of Sage’s Island. Of the Coral Sea and Queendom of Roses, if you ever visit. You walk magicless in a world of magic, limping while blood soaks the inside of your crystal heels.

The thing about mushrooms is that you cannot just plant one into a terrarium. 

Originally, you were under the assumption that it was like moving flowers from bed to bed. Jade cleared up the misinformation for you. You could not grab a full-bodied mushroom, that had already lived a life outdoors, and stick it into a terrarium. Full-bodied mushrooms would come to reject the ecosystem. The key to get them to stay? The key was to get the mycelium into the ecosystem; without the support system underneath the soil, the mushroom would wither and leave in a few days.

As you rummage around in the bucket from your recent Sunday date with Jade, you know there is little you can do. Some would take and others would not. Shifting, latex-covered fingers stir through the rather common mushrooms, passing over maybe only two or three rare ones.

Apparently, the one you tried to pluck off the cliffside six days ago was poisonous to the touch. Not enough to be fatal but you would have gotten a nasty itch coating itself over your hand. Even with the latex on, you avoid touching it. Jade’s hand is still a pinkish-red after all.

Stupid Jade, you think fondly on the protective eel and take a mushroom out of the bucket. 

Terrariums are beautiful but mushrooms are rather fleeting. As you start to crumple up the gold-hued chanterelle mushroom in hand, you reflect upon the matter. Take for example the terrarium tank you are working on currently in Jade’s dorm. He has three on his bed-side shelf: one cylinder, one spherical, and one square. The one you laid on his desk is the spherical one. 

This one terrarium has housed pholiota adiposa, then albino pleurotus ostreatus, and now gomphus clavatus mushrooms (known as pig ears), and has probably housed more before you even knew Jade. 

Mushrooms are decaying plants. It is nearly impossible to curate an enclosure that can house a certain fungi all year round. After a while, Jade simply scraped all that death up in his hand, threw it into the compost bin of the botanical gardens, and departed from it.

A part of you would never understand how Jade could deal with it. All that hard work only for it to naturally wither and go. You suppose he dealt with it because he adored change. Who would have thought? The always-in-control Jade Leech actually enjoys seeing things shift and change. You understood his love of a challenge though. His unfinished magnum opus was a terrarium breaking the laws of nature, trying to get nine species of mushrooms that mimicked a coral reef in one single environment. 

“Each species of fungi have different growing conditions that they favor, so it is impossible for me to recreate all of these in the same ecosystem,” he once said.

“So why even try?”

“I think it is most enjoyable and eye-opening to covet after the impossible.”

He then looked at you like you were a meal, speaking double meanings with a honeyed tongue. Scandalous yet not, so you could never accuse him of being scandalous at any moment. Ah … even the memories of Jade could make your face feel warm. 

Distracting yourself, you start to add little bites of the gold-hued fungi in hand, tucking them under the moss and placing them on the tree bark. 

Jade’s unfinished magnum opus involved this glasshouse– the pig ears, gomphus mushrooms. Gomphus mushrooms could not be successfully cultivated as they are mycorrhizal, meaning they form a special relationship with their host plant. Two of the nine species he was working with for his coral reef terrarium were mycorrhizal, pig ears and indigo milky. And Jade finally got a mycorrhizal species of mushroom to sustain itself in an ecosystem made of glass. Proving the impossible was possible. A smile reaches your features, feeding more of the common mushroom in the terrarium so the pig ears could feast. 

Though that one project was going to have a long way to go, you had faith Jade would be able to complete it, despite the ecosystem and biology of fungi fighting against him. Would you be there to share in that victory? You dip your hand back into the bucket, ignoring the squirming of your stomach. 

The door clicks open. 

You look up to be greeted with the sight of teal hair and spindly limbs reaching up to six feet and one inch. Tongue already forming around the ‘J’, you stop suddenly. One then two Dunhill shoes – costing more than you will ever keep in a month’s pay – are kicked across the pale lilac floor. You watch cap-toe shoes sumersault and tumble. 

As he falls into bed with a groan, you greet, “Hi Floyd.”

“Shrimpy!” You blink in surprise as the exhaustion seemingly disappears out of Floyd. He props himself on his elbow, legs shuffling a bit further up the bed, and a predator’s smile pulls on his lips. Energetic at the sight of his twin’s significant other.

“Was wonderin’ why my bed was so neat,'' Floyd hums … and oh, he must still be exhausted, you observe. Lying back down in the bed you cleared of candy wrappers and sheets you straightened, Floyd slightly props his head up with his crossed elbows and a pillow so he can keep talking to you. “What ya doin’ here?”

“Just helping Jade with his terrariums. I wanted to repay him for the chamomile tea.”

“Shrimpy’s so sappy.”

“Hey, I just adopted the Octavinelle values. Can’t be walking around with a debt. Got to keep us on an even playing field.”

“Mmm … which ones?”

“The pig ears. They’re so volatile. I’m worried if they’re going to stay or not.”

“Is that what has Shrimpy so stressed?”

“Hm? I wouldn’t say stressed. Just trying to figure out how I should handle them.” 

You pick another mushroom out of the bucket. Gomphus mushrooms were so sensitive. Cousin to chanterelles mushrooms, you could safely add the gold mushroom in – as you had just done. Looking down at the mushroom you now hold, you consider if it would be safe fertilizer for the pig ears. You do not want to jeopardize the delicate balance. 

Under Floyd’s watchful eyes, you put the mushroom you picked up back into the bucket. You start to rummage again before the eel’s words interrupt your work. “So what’s got ya so stressed?” 

Not catching his drift, you say, “Nothing? I’m not too stressed right now.” It is a true statement. Your body feels entirely at ease, just measuring how you can help here and there with the terrariums. You cap the glass enclosure with the glass cover. If Floyd wants to sleep, you should not impose. 

“Ya smell stressed.”

“You’re a real gentleman, you know that, Floyd?”

Ah, that old reliable nose of an eel. Hiding a playful smirk, you sing, “Well, I’ll get out your hair so my musk doesn’t ruin your sleep. I was just about done with everything anyways. I think Jade’s going to use the rest of the mushrooms from our hunt to cook something.”

“I’m serious. Ya stunk ever since Tuesday and ya stunk real bad on Friday,” Floyd says in a low tone, eyes glued to your back. “Kinda still smells now too. Not as bad but still.”

You are glad you get the terrarium down safely on Jade’s bed-side shelf because your hands shake at Floyd’s words. Ah, that vexingly reliable nose of an eel. Trust their olfactory system to even pick up the stench of tension like a dog picking up frequencies unheard. You sit back down on Jade’s bed, spine facing Floyd.

“Just school stuff. Crewel’s been on my ass about a test. I need to get mine and Grim’s shared grade back up in Animal Languages. Things like that.” 

You can lie successfully with your body, keeping it from tensing in betrayal. You can lie successfully with your vocal cords, keeping them even and precise. However, you found you can never lie eye-to-eye with Floyd. It did not matter whether the golden eye was on the left or right. Somehow that flaming, glittering sun burns you to the core and figures out the undeniable, obsidian truth.

Already, you are mapping the escape route. Just a quick spin off Jade’s bed, grab your phone from his desk, and exit out the door. Avoid his eyes at all cost as if is a predator, and that he is. Moving off the bed, you say, “Like I said, I’ll leave so my musk doesn’t –”

“(Name).”

Your eyes snap up; a gasp is pinched tight in your mouth. Floyd challenges you back with his luminesce eyes. Bristling a hissy cat, the back of your thighs hit Jade’s mattress and you whine, “I hate when you two do that!”

Floyd laughs. He laughs in his normal, nasally drawl instead of the deep, sinister tone that Jade has. As Floyd takes pleasure in your surprise at his perfect impersonation of his twin, you refuse to look at him. The gloating jerk. In a rush, you grab your phone just as Floyd starts to speak, “Ya always fall for it, Shrimpy. It’s cute.”

“Yeah, whatever.”

“Ya stressed around Jade?”

“No.”

“Really? Ya reek right now. All stressed out after hearin’ ‘Jade’ speak. Smells like wet dog and cigarette smoke.”

“I’m not stressed,” you argue, flipping on your phone to check the time. Above Jade’s head, white numbers stare back at you, 4:43, and you watch it change to the next minute with a scowl. The screen goes black; angelic numbers and the photo of Jade leaning over Ramshackle’s oven, cooking a meal for your one year anniversary, disappear. “Look, I’ll –”

The words die in your throat when you and Floyd lock eyes. He knows I’m scared but just not of what. You cannot blame Floyd with the way his mismatched eyes narrow, little squinting fireballs of suspicion. He is only looking after his twin. 

“I just need a little time before I can tell him, okay?”

“Kay, Shrimpy.”

Glance around the bedroom; check that you got everything in hand. You lock eyes with yourself, heart agonizing in your chest like a clawed talon has made it its footstool. Your happier, lighter face smiles back at your crinkled expression. Frozen in mirth. Stuck in a moment of easy breathing and thoughts. The photograph on the desk of you and Jade taken from the Ghost Camera. Only one of you looks at the lenses and the other stares down at the person pulling them into the surprise photo. 

Uneasy thoughts fill your head. This is the photograph Jade wakes up to every morning. He had even cut Azul and Floyd off the edges of the polaroid, chuckling evilly when Floyd gapped and Azul sneered, instead of just folding them off the edges. Always wanting to get a reaction. 

Would the facsimile of your soul one day be all that was left for Jade to keep? A photo that might fleetingly speak the words of your heart to him. You imagine it with a wince: Jade talking to a facsimile of you, empty of your warmth, but still there. Staying when you would not. 

I don’t want that for him. I don’t want that for me!

I want to see them again. 

Gomphus mushrooms. School assignments. The dinner you have to cook. Whatever lingers in your brain, you try to focus on it to distract yourself from the conflicting yearnings of your soul. Eventually, you will come to tell Jade. It might be procrastinated upon already, but better late than never. When you left the Leech twins shared bedroom, you did not realize how right you were. Eventually, you did come to tell Jade. You told him that very night, at 2:13 A.M., on the porch of Ramshackle.

You have not been sleeping well since Crowley broke the news to you. Everyone knows this. The concern is clearly written in Ace and Deuce’s faces when you two have classes and lunch together. Epel gives you the caffeine and Vitamin C eye-roller that he never used his first year. Sebek and Jack take to allowing their large hands to be the barrier between your cheek and a cold desk that might startle you awake. 

Crawling out of bed, swollen eyebags aching like a bruise, careful to let Grim sleep, this is normal now. 

Stumbling feet successfully walk themselves down spiraling stairs. One foot by one foot. Out of the corner of your lidded eyes, ghosts move like the undulating waves of a storm, pellucid bodies pulsing without a heartbeat. Sweat rolls down your neck, soaking into the nook of your collarbone. You miss the last step, bump hard into the wall, and that is all it takes. You start crying.

Uncertain of why you are down on the first floor instead of the second, you cry and cry, confused. When did you get out of bed? Your only answer is the raspy noise your mouth exhales. The loose t-shirt that is three sizes bigger than yourself is constricting and choking you. 

The waterfall on your face continues steady even when the warm breeze of spring-turning-summer fights against it. You would take in a deep breath of fresh air if each breath you did take did not feel like drowning. Engine lungs refuse to start smoothly, instead churning with gasps and coughs of water.

I want my Momma. I want my Jade. I want my Dad. 

Your butt falls heavy on the steps of Ramshackle, knowing there is no one coming for you. There will no longer be any hortative, glowing green fireflies coming to save you tonight. You sit there, presuming you will fall asleep from the exhaustion of weeping.

You feel like you are on a boat. A boat in the middle of a snow-globe. Turning and turning is fruitless because the sight is never changing eternalness: blue waves and a lighter blue sky. Color that cuts into sadness. Color that swallows. You can pirouette, jump, do handstands, but the sight remains. Blue on blue. On a boat that you do not even attempt to steer because there is no direction you want to go in.

Your mother once said she was so in love with your father that she knew he was the one because she would put him above her parents. Never getting enough of each other. Time spent with him was just better than time spent without. Better than being with her own parents.

That is love; when you find your person, you put them above everything else.

The iron gate to Ramshackle creaks. 

You would like to say you watch Jade Leech climb up the cobblestone path to Ramshackle, thinking about the definition of love, but you cannot see past your tears. All you see is an emulsified blur of black, teal, and dark green water. Furious hands whip at your face. Eyes red and face warm, you look up. He is still a haze of skin, hair, and clothes sliced into little horizontal lines of color.

“Ja-Jade?”

“Pardon me if it sounds odd … but I heard you crying in my dorm. Of course, you weren’t there. But it still made me anxious so I decided to check.”

You sniff, scrubbing your eyes harshly to clear them.

“And here, I do find you crying in the exact same volume and manner.”

“Sorry. I —”

“Nonsense. You need not apologize for your tender disposition.”

“Sorry,” you say again. You drop your head at Jade’s exaggerated look. The exaggerated look on his face is only a squinting of his eyes. However, you can decipher and tell the differences between the twenty eye-squints Jade Leech can make. 

You keep wiping away tears as Jade sits down by you on the porch. Vision clear, you smile at the rare sight of Jade in his pajamas. Oh, those are the fleece pants you bought him with a blue flannel pattern. A bit comforted by that, you lean into him as he rests an arm upon your shoulder. 

“If my own disposition is not seen as rude, what is troubling you? You are not known for being so out of sorts. Crying is one thing, crying outside Ramshackle at 2 o’clock  is another.”

“Do you think I smell?”

The smile grows a bit on your face as Jade quickly tries to submerge a laugh with his hand. 

“Sorry, that was ah, a bit unexpected.”

“Heh, I know.”

“But?”

“Floyd made a comment early. I smell like stress.”

“Well, I would be lying if I said I hadn’t noticed too.”

“I think I could tell when you pull back from that kiss all the sudden. The sneeze excuse wasn’t very convincing.”

“Come now, I am an excellent actor.”

“Not around me.” You warm up when Jade trails his hand up and down your arm. Not around me. I can always read what is on your mind, Jade. 

“Ah and there goes my dreams of being the first eel-mer movie star. Why are you so cruel, my love? Crushing a poor eel’s dreams?”

“Ah, my apologies,” you say remorselessly. Playful, your hand falls into Jade’s hand. You take to drawing swirls and seashells into the rough, warm center of his palm. Above, a few droplets of water start to sprinkle out of the sky. A slight change in the weather as you start to draw more seriously.

“Thank you.” He plants a kiss on the crown of your head. It settles on you like a flower petal, soft. “Now, would you like to tell me what has made you so incredibly stressed? I can be very patient, forewarning.”

“When you graduate, where do you want to live, land or sea?” You watch three droplets hit Jade’s hand, feeling a few pepper themselves on your shoulders and back. You take one droplet and smooth it out into the image of a starfish. That is not what you wanted to come out of your mouth. However, the chronic worry you have had about graduation slides out of your mind easily. 

In the dust of rain, you listen to Jade’s answer. “If I were to choose … between land or sea … why that certain is a weighty question. And to think you have been all alone in your musing about it. How sobering, I cannot even imagine such a barnacle of a thought.”

“You’re stalling.”

“Hah, I can never keep things hidden from you, can I? Let me think.” He cannot draw up an arm to his chin but he definitely has that same contemplative look on his face. As rain kisses his crown, he slowly says, “Both land and sea come with advantages. Though I have only known land for three years, it has gifted me with wonderful consequences that I have never thought I of all merfolk would know.”

“I’m a consequence?”

“Quite. My favorite consequence,” Jade replies tenderly. “The sea can be seen as inhospitable to visitors. I happen to enjoy the cold and dark where others do not. I suppose I would have to measure the decision through memories. Am I fonder of the memories of my childhood or am I fonder of the memories of my education?

“I still have the chance to cultivate and reap the benefits of my education, unlike my childhood which is long gone. But, in the end, I would want both land and sea. And somehow, I would find a way to make that possible, no matter ecosystemic limits.” 

You wilt as the rain starts to grow more constant. A few twenty or so dots of water are not gathered on Jade’s palm. Taking the abundance of paint, you draw the face of an eel with the water. “But it would matter: the consequences and the people you could possibly leave behind.”

“Your worry is about whether I would stay with you or my family?” You cannot nod because that is selfish of you, pushing your dilemma onto your boyfriend. Jade can tell what exactly the root of your stress is even as you draw. Leaning to be heard better over the rain, he says, “I would never leave you, (Name).”

“Crowley found a way to send me home.”

Jade tenses up. You wilt when the canvas of his hand suddenly changes , hand gripping your hand in a tight, binding hold. 

“Pardon?”

“Crowley, he found a way to send me back to my home. I–” The clouds of your eyes grow heavy. “I don’t know what to do, Jade.” 

Holding hands, you look up, hoping the answer can be found on Jade’s face. He is the decision  maker in the relationship, picking the food you eat, offering advice on homework; Jade always has this way of knowing how to solve anything. His expression; you need to see so it can guide you. 

Oh.

Oh. That is not good.

Profile stone and staring off into the dark beyond Ramshackle, Jade is unreadable to you. You wilt a third time. 

“Cater’s been talking about getting Kalim to throw one huge going away party. I told him you would really enjoy it if the Pop Music Club played Supertramp’s Goodbye Stranger during it.”

That sentence gets you to stop cutting the strawberries. Jaw dropping, you turn towards Trey’s villainous smirk as he pretends to innocently pipe frosting on the second cake. Only his profile faces you, acting arrogant to your mortification. “You … absolutely did not.” The response you get is the crinkle of Trey’s cheek as he tries to push down his smile. 

You whack him, taking vindictive joy in the icing that runs down the side of the mousse cake, and shout, “You jerk!”

“Hey, I just think the Ramshackle Prefect should go out with something memorable.”

“Isn’t being magicless enough?”

Trey takes to fixing the frosting as he replies, “You know Cater won’t do something so big without permission. He might just livestream all of it.” He picks back up the icing bag to resume and cover up the slight imperfection. “Would a party really be so bad?”

“Goodbye parties defeat the whole purpose of the word party,” you grumble. One by one, you plant the scales of cut strawberries on top of the strawberry tart. They extend out in the space of a lotus. “I’d be covered in tears and snot by the end of it. Ugh.”

“Hm, I suppose I see what you mean.” 

Trey and Cater, after being alerted of the news with your permission, manage to return to Night Raven College from their internships for the weekend. The use of magic makes it easy for them to travel in quickly, popping by for an unbirthday party.

Currently, you and Trey prepare the strawberry tarts (as is customary for unbirthday parties) and a chocolate mousse cake (as is customary for you to enjoy). Riddle has meticulously plotted out each faucet of this unbirthday party. Nostalgically, he reminds you a lot like his old tryantical self, barking orders as his stress rockets, meticulous to give you the perfect unbirthday party. When asking where you were wanted, Trey happily scoops you up before anyone else can. 

Playing catchup, you and Trey talk about a wide variety: how his internship is going, new recipes or meals you two have been introduced to or learned, the shenanigans of Ace and Deuce that Trey missed, and how your shared friend Jade Leech is doing.

To be frank, you enjoy Trey’s company a lot. Despite being a graduate of NRC, he makes you feel the closest to home. Normalcy. He expels this aura of normalcy that is absent from the rest of the student body. Pearly white, non-serrated teeth smile at you. Regular brown eyes shimmer behind his glasses. Within his presence, it is easy to masquerade around with the facade that NRC is a quotidian college. Protected by the walls of the kitchen, you can forget about the flamingos being used as croquet mallets and the magic pens waving through the air.

You are kicked from this fantasy comfort when Trey asks you for a favor. As Grim happily slurps up the leftover frosting from the plastic bag, a question is posed. “Can you do me a favor and grab the chocolate sprinkles?”

“Ah, of course.” Back on the paper plate goes your knife and quarter sliced strawberry. 

You turn to where the shaker of chocolate sprinkles lies. Ah, unfortunately it is on a pretty high up shelf. No matter, you stretch out your body and reach. Fingers only scrap the glass surface. You move to your tiptoes, stomach pinched by the countertop.

“Don’t worry, Henchman! I got it!” On stubby legs, Grim stands up from his spot on the counter. He squints at the cabinet overhead and stands on his tiptoes too. He makes it about halfway less than your reach. Ribs pressing into Grim’s fur, you stretch out like an uncoiling snake. 

You watch your finger slide down the glass. So close. You stretch when the sprinkles container suddenly starts to move. Putting your hands in front of your face in the shape of a triangle, you instantly coil back into a tight position and squeeze your eyes close. The impact never comes.

A wary eye opens and watches as the red glow of Trey’s pen and the sprinkled shaker that floats over the mousse cake. No matter how much you pretend, no matter how many times you stumble into your boring Wonderland, hoping all the magic is gone, it always comes back to catch you by surprise. Normalcy … you cannot get that back unless you go home.

Trey notices how eerily silent you are as you go about cutting up strawberries and hanging some of the banged up fruit to Grim. There is only one mousse cake but plenty of tarts waiting to be served in the kitchen. Well, it can’t hurt. “Here. For you.” You blink as two empty plates are put in front of you. “The piece of cake, or tart, typically goes to the Housewarden. However, I doubt Riddle will be too mad at this development.”

“Only been gone from Heartslabyul one semester and you’re already breaking rules,” you gasp with fake terror.

He simply puts a finger to his lips, eyes shining under his glasses. Trained, he empties a slice from each sweet with deadly, applause-worthy accuracy. Two confectioneries are put on the plates in front of you. As calm as an executioner, you stare at the two slices: a tart with scales of strawberries running across it and a cake with layers of mousse and bread laddering across it. 

And you suddenly know this is something deeper than just picking which treat you want to eat. Ah, Trey Clover is a Night Raven graduate after all.

Under watchful amber eyes, you pick up your fork. 

“Ha greedy, aren’t you?”

You admonish Trey for his teasing comment. Balancing the two sweets on a fumbling fork, you take the biggest bite of the overlap. Chocolate stains your lips. Despite that, it is the strawberry tart that you taste first. 

“Aren’t I the unbirthday girl/boy? I get to be greedy!” You grin like Grim does and stab back into the confectioneries. Your fork picks off a bit of the mousse then moves to scoop off a bit of the tart before returning to your mouth. So what if you are greedy for wanting both? You can make a Wonderland for yourself.

Right?

A week and a half left. A week and a half passed. Time falls on a perfectly split down the middle day. Wednesday, the day Mountain Lovers club meetings fall on.

As time marches on, voices become more vocal about wanting you to stay. The Unbirthday party had gone swimmingly with a few rough waves. You sympathize with it. Yet you feel you have to be so careful when conversing about it, any wrong word might cause anyone to jump to a conclusion. So, with the loss of sleep, you are also talking less. 

You wonder if everyone takes your silence as a sign you have made the definite answer. 

Not everyone though. Jade Leech. Jade is the only one not acting erratically. When no filter Ace had asked him to agree with them he wanted you to stay, the eel-mer had only put a hand on your shoulder, picking you up after the Unbirthday party, and said, “Why that is not in my expertise to answer. I’m afraid that I would have to vote for a no comment statement.” 

Calm, level-headed Jade. Calculating Jade. How you adore that detached yet sly nature of his. He is the sight of land after days of aimless traveling blue waters. He is chamomile tea on a sleepless night. He is a neat white pill of xanax. 

And today, you are blessed to bask in that tranquil presence after school. Waiting to be received after knocking on his dorm door, you think upon it. No interrogation. No stress. Just you and him, hunting and sketching mushrooms. You even picked up a new set of charcoal pencils at Sam’s Shop for today. You light up when the dorm door opens. 

“Ja – oh, hi Floyd.”

Something has set off Floyd. It is evident in the deep scowl cutting itself on his face. His discord eyes are dull. His posture is slouching like a deflating house made of bad wood. When you spoke, you even saw his hand twitch into a fist. Instead of attacking, Floyd blinks down at you and sighs out, “Sorry Shrimpy.”

Your grip on your bag tightens. “Um, why are you apolog –”

“Hello (Name).” 

A little of that happy fire comes back to your soul. Smiling, you look behind Floyd to see Jade dressed in his pair of cargo pants and lightweight thermal henley. Foraging bag slung over his shoulder, he is like a breath of fresh air, the normalcy that sweats from him. “Hi honey,” your smile is innocent.

You only notice it for a brief flicker of time: a nasty glare directed from olive and gold eyes to mirroring gold and olive eyes, so hateful that your heart pats in worry that you might witness a fight between them. Then the loathing bleeds out of Floyd. He nudges you out the way, stomping down into Octavinelle’s halls.

“I’ma go. Can’t stomach watchin’ this.” Words that depart with Floyd.

“Jade?”

“What are you doing here, (Name)?”

Your stomach drops. “I - uh,” your neck is growing foolishly warm, you have not heard Jade speak so monotone in a while “, well, today is Wednesday and so I came to – uh.”

“Did my lack of response not clearly indicate that I would not be needing you for this hike?”

Further and further, your stomach sinks. You know what he is referencing, the single text you sent about thirty minutes ago: Did you want me to bring anything for tonight? It was just a quick check-up on your part. It is unlike Jade to take more than ten minutes to respond to you.

“I just thought you were busy.”

“No. I was trying to indicate that I would not need you on this particular night.”

“But … but this is our thing.” 

Much like Floyd, Jade nudges you on the way. You stumble, staring at the expanse of his shoulders and back. He refuses to turn around, “Yes, but if I am to be alone in the Mountain Lovers club for the rest of my third year, then I should slowly wane off your company. A rational decision, yes?”

A hairline fracture snakes itself up your heart. Splatting, your stomach lands on the ground. Jade will not turn around to look at you. You look down your own foraging bag where those new, suddenly silly charcoal pencils lie.

“Um, yeah, that does actually make a lot of sense.”

“I will see you tomorrow though. So don’t fret so much.”

“I’m not fretting.”

“I know you won’t. That’s what I admire about you.” 

And then, he leaves, back still a wall facing you. Perhaps you do not adore that detached yet sly nature of Jade’s in its entirety.

It is only natural that things decay. Jade knows that. Observed it happen with mushrooms a hundred plus times. Brown rot, soft rot, white rot. The fear of rot gives way to the fear of death. Death: that final departure. He wonders if when you inevitably step through into the carriage, ebon stallions with steely gray eyes as cold as the Grim Reaper’s scythe carting you away forever, if it will be like death or decay. 

Jade knows you will not stay. Who would? So he is going to do better by you right now, be kinder and more unaffected, after tonight. He just needs this solitude for a few hours.

Memories of his twin’s face are dancing in Jade’s mind when he really wants to be focusing on you. It cannot be helped. They fought physically before, but never departed from one another still needing to fight. They would have fought. They should have fought. It was only the knowledge that you were arriving in fifteen minutes that kept them shouting at each other.

Floyd thought Jade was doing wrong by you. 

Jade told Floyd to stay the fuck out of his relationship. 

“Dad always said you were the fuckin’ coward of the family.”

Jade should have thrown a punch there. Walking down the hiking trail, he feels the knot of nails into palms. Easily falling back into the therapy of forming fists, Jade relocates his hands to the strap of his bag. Not yet. He cannot get destructive yet.

“You’re not gonna even fight for them!”

No. Jade was not because he knew your soul. It would only be natural for you to return home. It would only be natural for him to return to the sea. It is only natural for things to decay, Jade reminds himself as he finally makes it deep enough into the thicket of Sage Island’s forest.

Not this though. I wanted this to stay. 

“Nothing to be done except support them.” 

Jade says this to a peculiar looking tree as he removes the forage bag off his shoulder. He deposits it down by a peculiar looking rock. He is a master of nature but it is better to have landmarks for his belongings. Rolling up the sleeve of his thermal henley, the skeletal eel tail and filigrane ends of the waves tattooed on his left side peek shy from the rolled cotton. 

“Nothing to be done.” He finalizes the word with a nod. Then, he breaks off the path into a brisk jog. 

Jade has gotten much better with the usage of legs since freshman year. Experience conducts improvement. None of them had quite taken to it fluidly. Jade can still remember when he tried stairs for the first time, shaking like a lamb, yet still finding the ability to laugh smoothly when Floyd fell down them. Though Floyd had laughed even harder at Jade when he experienced his first calf cramp, thinking he had been shot. Thank the Sevens most of their blunders had been in training camp, away from ill-intent eyes.

I hate fighting with my brother, Jade thinks as he moves slightly to the right to avoid a rock too big to jump over. He keeps pumping his arms and jogging. 

Fighting is natural for moray eels. You have to fight in the Coral Sea to keep what you covet. It is not like Jade is lacking that urge to change the situation and make you stay. But this situation? It is too close to resembling a scenario where a person quits a job for the sake of their wife’s promotion; or someone changes their dream college to settle with the one their boyfriend is choosing to attend. 

This is something I cannot put up a fuss about. Jade passes a blackberry bush and tries to stomp out the memories that come with it. 

Your excited face — hand-feeding him some berries — laughing as you gather them up — pouring them into a muffin tin — a sweet and tart memory

You have to do what is right for you, not him, not Grim, not anybody else. He should not infer or try to influence you this upcoming week and half. Jade takes a meaningless right turn, trying to get lost deeper in the woods.

Yet as he falls deeper into the thicket of trees, spores, rocks, and leaves, he finds memories returning to him:

The smell of you, distinctive like red to a bull, swimming in the college hallways or in Mostro Lounge. 

The look of pride on your face when you find yourself able to read his true intentions better than all but two of the student body. 

The feel of the first time Grim chose his lap over yours, a reluctant purr vibrating against the cotton of his gloves.

The sound of you shuffling morning sheets and the sensation of the kisses you press to his face to arouse him from sleep.

Your smiling voice left like a voicemail —

— That happy world tumbles down upon Jade like a Jenga tower, suddenly unreachable, as he too tumbles. A loose tree root snags his foot; ground flies towards him. Barely expecting it, Jade gasps as cold and wet hits his face.

Mud. Mud from the previous days’ rain presses itself to his face, soaking into his cuts and unraveled hair. Throat undulating, Jade starts to spit back the wet dirt he had taken from the earth. The crust of sediment coats his lips like a cosmetic. He watches brown saliva bubble under him.

Jade’s hands embrace the ground as he positions himself up on all fours. He watches his hand. Cold blue of his veins like the tassels of a jellyfish. Red-pink heat of his knuckles and palm bed. Contrast to the pale calcite-like bloodlessness of his skin. All of his skin ill-fitting. Pale dough splitting apart in gaping ovulate mouths. Himself. Splitting apart down to the last atom. 

I – I – I –

He can barely feel his frozen body move as he lifts up one fist. Mud-stained teeth grit. His fist flies in a frenzy. Two, five, seven, eleven, twelve, fifteen. Moving like an electric chisel, Jade punches and punches and punches into the ground until a tiny crater is left into the earth where he fell.

It is not enough and Jade knows it. He pulls his hand back, chocolate-dipped with mud and leaking from the new wounds a rock had given him, as he sits on his haunches. 

Both of his hands go up to his face, covering off where open mouth breathes flicker out of him. It is not enough.

As if he was kicked into the back of line; as if he has lost his mind; Jade jumps up with a spark, turns towards the nearest tree, and punches it. Pain splits down his arm like lightning and it feels calming. Now, red is flowing in equal measure with the brown. He wants to do it again. He wants to fight until his fiery soul is extinguished. 

People think him so different from his twin. Floyd and Jade are the same; both yearn for a good fight now and then. Jade simply hides just a small percentage better than his brother, under a sheep’s skin like an ill-fitting and tearing apart in oval holes. 

There is no need to wear that soft suit when he is alone, in a far off corner of Sage’s Island that no one is going to be at this hour.

Jade goes through the motions of his emotions, all of them rocking him as violently as Charybdis’s whirlpool. His fist falls like a meteor into tree bark. Hair is pulled and yanked, just to give him the satisfaction of pain. The ground stirs at the violence of his long legs. Finds a rock, kicks it. Finds a bigger rock, kicks it harder. Trying to break one of his toes. 

His hand flows through wet leaves and mud, grabbing a stray branch. Jade turns towards a different tree. “FUCKING SHIT!” Slices his branch down like a claymore, a hum of satisfaction blooms up as the thick twig breaks into an explosion of wooden chunks with a deafening crack. 

“FUUUCKAAAARRRGGG!” He shouts back at the answering wilderness, two inhuman sets of teeth on display. A vein in his neck strains with the pressure of his harrowing, soul-tearing screams. 

When Jade returns to his dorm, covered in mud and blood, he finds Floyd asleep. It seems his twin found his own way to relieve himself from the cliffhanger urge to fight. Jade mourns that because he has not. His own energy and need to fight seems as vast as the ocean in his anxiety of losing you. 

He wants you to stay. 

“He wants me to leave. I can see it in his face. He wants me out of his life, and this is the ideal situation to do it without directly saying it. Agh, he is such a coward at times. And what’s worse! Is that he keeps acting like nothing is wrong. He took the hike alone and came back like nothing was wrong. Same old Jade. Not a word of the situation. Oh God, what if he does want me to leave,” you lament, shaking. 

A tissue box is nudged closer to you. You stir, looking up from the hands you had shelled up your crying face into. With a sniff, you grab a tissue, “Thank you.” You blow your nose and settle back into the loveseat.

Kleenex clutched tightly in hand, you continue speaking a voice clogged with tears, “You know, I’ve been wondering why Jade won’t let me in. He obviously has an opinion on the situation yet he isn’t saying it. So then, I start thinking he is being petty because I didn’t come to him about the situation first. Like maybe he thinks I don’t trust him with that information. But it was so hard to talk to him about because he’s my boyfriend. And I just want to talk now but I’m so scared about what he will say.

“I could always read him before. I just somehow knew what he was thinking at times. Now, I feel like he’s a jigsaw puzzle missing a piece yet I don’t even know what the picture is of anymore.” 

You hesitate and pass the moment by blowing your nose again. “Honestly, I feel like that too.” With teary eyes, you look towards your confidant. He gives a tiny huff of his snout, chin resting on the loveseat’s armrest between you. His big brown eyes simply stare wistfully at you.

“Are you going to communicate that to him or just to Pongo?” 

Eyes drawn away from Pongo, Crewel’s dalmatian, you glance towards the opening of the kitchen connecting to the living room. Your professor is deep enough inside the adjacent room where you cannot see, only hear him. You reply, “I’m trying to keep us on amicable terms. I don’t want him to think that I’ve made the decision to leave.”

“Then, tell him that very sentence, pup: I have not made the decision to leave yet. If you start off with that then you can continue on with explaining the rest. Do you think he has already thought you have made the decision yet,” Crewel says as he walks out of the kitchen. 

He carries a platter out in his lavious living room. Crewel is much more of a casual manner of dressing; a devil-red button-up with a silk evening tie, ebon with engravement of flora. He puts the platter down on the table in front of the two chairs, scolding Pongo off his chair. 

“That’s just the thing: I can’t tell what he is thinking anymore. I never really understood what Ace, Deuce, and Grim meant when they said they couldn’t really read Jade’s true intentions. Now, I feel the exact same way. Just second-guessing everything that comes out of his mouth,” you vent as Crewel accesses your bad posture. 

He must feel generous because he makes no note of it. “Well, mind-reading is a magical skill that not many mages master. So, though it is unfavorable, we have to learn to trust words at face value.”

“You say that if he is not Octavinelle’s vice-housewarden. Words are Jade’s sword. And he knows better than anyone that words can be manipulative, exploitative, and false. Since I didn’t come to him first, he is going to think –”

“Octavinelle students at their best are deeply intune with the world around them. That young pup is Octavinelle’s vice-housewarden because he is deeply observant and intuitive … and deeply sympathetic. I agree that words are his sword. A sword can be used to defend and help too. Do not restrict it.”

You wait until you have finished chewing around the carrot chip in your mouth before you speak, “I know that. To me, those are some of his best qualities … But! Octavinelle students work to solve problems. Jade hasn’t even given me his thoughts on my problem.”

“Perhaps he feels that if he says a certain thing, you will resent him. Or you will suddenly pick your decision because of what he says. I’m certain he wants you to make the decision for yourself.”

“But he’s one of the main reasons this is so hard to decide upon. Him and Grim.” Crewel’s face scrunches at the mention of your troublesome cat. “I love Jade dearly and I think of Grim as family. I know Grim’s thoughts. I cannot read a single thought on Jade’s face.”

Your eyes fall down to the floor, suddenly too damp to maintain proper eye-contact. “It is like he is shutting me out while staying robotically in the same relationship we had.” 

In your ribcage, the valves and arteries of your heart give a painful jerk of agony. As if noticing, Pongo empathically rests his head upon your knee. You greet him with a soft whisper, stroking down the crown of his head to his neck. You are still shaking.

“Nothing happens when you do nothing, pup. If you keep shuffling your feet upon the matter, eventually, when it comes for you to decide, you will be making a decision purely from your soul and nothing else. But that won’t give you closure. It won’t be good for you.”

“I don’t want Jade to resent me. I don’t,” you bit back a cry. Harshly, you pick up a tissue and press it over your eyes. After a few deep breaths, you manage to gain yourself before you slip down a watery, steep incline of the mountain of your emotions. 

“If neither of you talks to each other, nothing grows. Nothing changes unless one of you manages to talk to the other.”

“It’ll be such a painful conversation.”

“The ones that reap the most rewards are often the most painful of them all.”

You look up, eyes still incredibly wet. Crewel’s eyes resemble something like dark storm clouds. That color would suggest a bit of hardships but his advice flows off him naturally. You cannot look at Crewel like he is a surrogate father if you chose this world over your own. But, you will hold onto this relationship fondly, if this world is the one you stay in.

“I want him to know my soul again. I want to be able to read his soul again.”

Sometimes, Jade seems like a mountain. A bit too poetic comparing a hiker to the very structure they climb but it is suiting. Height aside, he is out of reach frequently. Scaling him – boots slipping on sediment walls, fingers bleeding with each desperate grab of sharp rocks – had been a trail as harsh as Everest. The view from above is breathtakingly beautiful and a sweet reward trumping all others.  

Your first kiss felt like being on top of a mountain. 

Mountains are rewarding but they are still mountains. A simple slip on slick rock and you bust open the crown of your head like a senile king or an old ram. Incredibly foolish of you to trust a jagged summit to keep you safe. 

Right now, he seems quite like a mountain. You worry over each of your premedicated steps in approaching this. Sizing up which indent of rocks you are going to trust putting your weight on. One breaking underneath you will not end it. Two breaks though … Jade might pull away from you. 

Studying the eminence of his back, you pick yourself up from Ramshackle’s couch and start the hike.

Jade does not even jump when you wrap yourself around his torso. You trap him in with an embrace, X-ing arms over his chest, underneath his arms. Steadfast, Jade continues with slicing long strips of fat into precise, 12 millimeter squares. Over the side of his arm, you look at the air-tight bag of hog casing and chop onions sizzling on the stove.

“Smells delicious. You look really good when you cook.”

“You say that no matter what I do.”

“Well, I can’t help that my boyfriend’s good-looking and I have to tell him so. It is just natural that I let you know.”

“Ah, then I thank you for the wonderful insight,” Jade says, all coy allurement in his voice. His knife falls and repositions itself to the start of the sausage, again and again like a guillotine at the height of revolution. “Can I ask you to add these in the skillet? I think you happen to look delectable when cooking too.”

“Good enough to eat?”

All you get is a quick flash of teeth, playfully biting air, as you reach over Jade’s body to grab the bowl he gestured to. You smile warmly. In the bowl lies chopped shallots, parsley, scallions, and a dozen more minor ingredients that you can identify. You take them, dumping them into the skillet. A tantalizing smell rises up to you along with a cloud of steam.

Taking a spatula, you start to stir the mixture. What is on the pan bubbles and cooks. As you maneuver the ingredients to burn evenly, you cannot help but think this is exactly what you wanted to avoid.

The environment of normalcy.

The ease of talking to Jade.

What a foolish thing to want to ruin, you sneer as you push at ginger and grounded cloves. But those two things have a masquerade mask slipped over them. Neither of you have brought up the issue once since the time you spent past midnight on Ramshackle’s porch. 

“Jade?” Jade hums, letting you know he is listening. Your hundred questions feel like acid in your throat. “What are we making?”

“It is Boudin Noir de Lyon. A French blood sausage. I’ve only attempted it twice before.” With his knife, Jade points at the long glass of goose blood that you have on your counter, next to the bag of hog casing.

“Ah, I see.” 

To be honest, you were unaware you had the components in stock to make Boudin Noir de Lyon. Sometimes, Grim and Jade just showed up with bags upon bags of food or food ingredients. You could understand why Azul wanted Ramshackle as a second Mostro Lounge. Shelves are bottomless and the kitchen is so spacious after your remodel.

It is a house wasted on you. You can easily look around and imagine all those industrious chefs roaming around, cooking and serving. Would Jade be content with the tradeoff?

“Jade?” This time you are going to try to go in and not dodge the subject again.

“Yes, my love?”

“You once said eels mate for life. Was that just sweet talking or is that a fact?”

“I thought the biology of merman species didn’t interest you much.” 

You remember that, saying that you did not need biology to let you know that Jade liked you very much and you liked him very much. So what if there were hints and nuances to learn about his biology. You just liked him; you felt at ease around him. “Just please … Please answer the question, Jade.”

“Eels and eel-mers usually pick only one to spend their life with.”

“Usually?”

“In the occurrence of a death or loss of a mate before one reaches adulthood fully at twenty, some eel-mers find someone else.” Jade elects to hold your hand instead of his knife, halting your worry-energized stirring and letting the spatula rest. The only thing you notice about his touch is that he is as cold as a December death. “We were only seventeen and eighteen when we met.”

“So you could find someone else if I left,” you say with a mix of relief and sadness. Then, your hand slips through Jade’s hand. You look at it with a gut-wrenching guilt, the collision of flickering skin and your tangible skin.

“No,” he says firmly, just barely managing to keep a growl out of his voice. “No, I couldn’t find anyone else but you.” And as if saying those words restore some of the bond you had, your hand floats back up as fake bones, muscle, and skin reappears. He squeezes your hand tightly.

You take Crewel’s advice. “Jade, I haven't made my decision whether I’m going to stay or not. I want you to know that: I haven’t decided yet.”

“I know.” He says those words. But he looks at you like you are something fleeting, like you are a mushroom collapsing in on itself, mildewed and smoldering, premature decay. His ice cold hand around yours is painful tight. 

“If I leave,” you choke on your words. With a gasp, you quickly pull away from him to wipe away the tears you were unprepared to feel fall. Ice rises up to press its thumb to wipe away the water. “I-If I leave, I want to know you’ll be okay. I want to know that you aren’t hiding away all your anguish from me.”

Clipped and short: “I can’t burden you with that. The weight on your shoulders is enough.”

“You ignoring this situation is a burden. I want us to talk. I want to know what’s on your mind, what’s in your soul.”

Jade holds his tongue. You try to pull your cheek away from him but that just worsens the misery in his eyes. You fall still, waiting.

“Jade?”

“I’d never be able to recover.”

“Huh,” you gasp breathless.

Even after such powerful words, Jade still holds his tongue in the cage of his mouth. The influence of words is not lost on a man such as him. If anything it is evident as emotions are on his twin’s face, unhidden. So very unlike Jade who keeps everything hidden to a certain degree.

Lifting a rock off his chest, unburdening himself, Jade confesses, “If you were to leave, I’d never be able to recover. There would be a hole in my heart always ready to receive you again.” 

Disconnected, you feel one tear race down the right side of your face and another tear catch on the curve of your left cheek, hanging and warm.

You were not ready to hear that. You thought you could handle hearing Jade’s true emotions but you had expected him to be losing interest. In his first year, he was fascinated with manholes; in his second year, he was fascinated with mushrooms; you expected this romantic interest to be fleeting. He learned to play bass in middle school then never picked it up again. Jade grows bored, he tosses things away, thus is nature.

He still has an interest in mushrooms, you think, he is settling down with his interests.

Were you two fleeting? An insecure part of you expected to be fleeting to him. I’d never recover. That is a far cry from a passing fancy that washes and recedes like the tide. 

“I’m sorry for saying my true feelings.”

“There’s nothing to apologize for,” you say, blinded by tears.

“But I’m making you cry. I’m cruel.”

You take his face in your hands, fingers clumsy due to impaired sight. “I’m glad to know it though. I’m glad you can say that.” Then, shaking, you go in for a kiss. And the fake Jade vanishes back into the photograph, leaving you puckering up for cold air.

With the sweet smell of a French meal you do not know how to cook lingering in the air, you cry and cry. 

You only have three days left to make a decision.

I’d never be able to recover. 

You have been rotating those words around in your head for thirty-eight hours. Moving the sentence around like it is a puzzle piece in a game. Dissecting it like it is the evidence that a serial killer left in the heat of crime. Even considering the weight of the punctuation mark. 

The true feelings of the soul of Jade Leech.

Grief comes without any sort of recovery. Instead, hurt erodes from the turret of time that passes through and splashes about but ultimately without cure.

I’d never be able to recover? Who’s to say that’s true?

But, the same sentiment rings true in your soul. Whichever you choose, the recovery path for the only choice will be fierce and full of regret. You will slice a part of your soul up and crush it no matter whether you go home or you stay in Twisted Wonderland. You pluck yourself out of the memory as you pluck a bottle of nightshade off Professor Crewel’s supply rack in potionology. 

Despite everything, you attend classes and unbirthday parties and … well, you would have attended club meetings, to procrastinate on the decision. If you leave, you leave with nothing but the skin on your back. You pour the deadly nightshade in the cauldron as Riddle, your lab partner, keeps stirring. You only have a day left. The phone in your pocket has been buzzing all day with concern but among the ladder of contracts you slide through you never see Jade 💕 among them. 

Pulling away to save us both the hurt, you think with a smile. That is so Jade, I should have been able to predict that. You watch the whirlpool of the gray mixture. Yeah, I’d never recover either. Then your lab goggles slowly but surely start to fill with tears. 

Riddle stops stirring, tool falling from his hand, when he sees you remove your goggles out of the corner of his eyes. You push them up and reveal bright red eyes brimming with tears. Tears so glutinous and heavy that it almost looks like melted wax. 

You cry because you know what you are going to pick. Your soul may fiercely want both options, impossibly greedy. Yet, now in the blimp of time, this pocket of your life, you have chosen the one you will go with. Removing the gloves from your hands, you start to furiously scrub away the ocean draining from you. It is so difficult to see. 

“Prefect, do you need to use the eyewash station? (Name)?”

“Ri-Rid,” you wheeze out. The waterfall is cascading down your face, clogging your voice. Gradually, the sound of you crying is starting to pick up a bit in volume.

“Prefect, what’s wrong? Here, I can use a spell to get it out of your eyes if you need. Did something splash up from the mixture?” You feel his smaller hand timidly rest on your quivering bicep. Sevens, your entire body is shaking like a power-drill. 

Students are starting to look in your direction. Morbid curiosity draws their eyes to you, listening to the gut-wrenching sobs you expel. Riddle’s face hardens in a glare. Frustration lies pink on his cheeks. With the force of your sobs, your knees start to tremble, tipping over the fence edge of buckling. You are a wreck.

“Professor Crewel –.” 

“Every single pup is excused from class. Right now.” 

The door is already magic-ed open. It takes a minute for others to pile out, some lingering in curiosity and some leaving steadfast in their recoil to no longer hear your cries. The click of the door breaks you and you finally collapse. Riddle goes down with you, gentle hand glued to your arm. 

“I need to make a call,” you manage to get out from your wet throat, crying as if you are grieving. You suppose it is appropriate. You are grieving someone who you will lose tomorrow and never see again. “I need to –”

“Who do you need to call, (Name)? I can call them for you.”

“Pup.” Crewel does not finish his thought.

You are back to being incomprehensible, crying like you have never cried before. Water coats your face and no matter which direction or what material you use, you cannot dry your face against the assault. Jade. You want Jade so badly. 

Riddle – top of his class yet failing the grade of life – stares, not knowing who you want or how to solve this. He grew up isolated; comforting others is not his specialty. “I could call Ace and Deuce. I can –” Riddle quickly locates his phone, fingers frantic. The phone slips out of his grip when a hand starts pounding against the classroom door. 

Beyond the tears, you hear:

“Class is dismissed –”

“Striped beakfish, move it.”

“Pup, I’ll have you –”

“Professor Crewel, I need to –”

“Shrimpy’s in there move it.”

“I don’t have time for this – move.” 

The arm in Riddle’s hand is suddenly wrenched away. You puppet your head up forcefully despite your tears. You should have known. Jade knows your soul after all. 

If it was under any other circumstances, it would be either terrifying or oddly hilarious, the open concern on Jade’s face. He collapses right down on the ground in front of you after pushing Professor Crewel out of his way. His face is taut with the emotions on it, a far cry from the always composed look he has. Only you could get such a reaction. His knee bumps your knee but you do not mind, throwing yourself on him and crying yourself dry of grief. 

“It’s okay. I got you. I’m not going to let you go, my love. I got you in my arms, okay?”

Jade’s single yellow eye manages to catch the bewildered look on Riddle’s face. There is a question in the housewarden’s expression: what’s wrong? It is obvious to Jade. You picked whether you want to stay or go.

A soul bond is engrained in the two holders. It allows them to read each other easily when they are at their strongest in a relationship. Thus, Jade knows exactly what you cry for. Riddle misjudges it as stress or a laboratory accident. Jade knows exactly why those tears fall down your face. You are staying in Twisted Wonderland. He knows in the beautiful, snotty, and wrinkled mess on your face: you are staying with him.

It is odd; all you wanted before was to talk, discuss, have a heart to heart vocally. You wanted so badly to restore your crippled communication. Now, you do not need a single word to let him know the entire situation, all the nuances are laid bare on your soul. 

“I got you. I’ll always be here, my love.”

He wipes flushed, wet cheeks and pulls you back in for a tight hug. You know when you feel tears fall onto your collarbone that they are his own soul thanking you for trusting him. 

The hand on Jade’s bicep is like ice.

Jade twitches, nose scrunching up. His bed tries to lure him back and make him ignore the comatose-cold hand on his arm. It is not a hard task; he is exhausted beyond belief and wants to sleep. His head tousles in the lilac pillow, falling back off the cliff into dreams, when the frozen hand starts to shake his arm.

“Mmm.”

“J … Ja … Jade.”

“Mmmmmm.”

Leave him alone. He is tired. Binding his pallid arms around the pillow in an amorous hold, he tries to dream. The room swelters with summer heat and the silk is like a balm to him. His bare stomach lies the inner sheets and the muscular expanse of rhomboids block out whoever is calling his name. Leave him alone.

“Jade, wake up please. Please Jade.”

“Leave me alone,” Jade groans into the pillow, words distorted with fatigue.

Above him, a sniffle and pathetic hissing cry breaks the heat. The sound is familiar. Out of mouth that is stringy with prison bars of salvia, tears, and snot, his name is called again. Around his eel sleeve tattoo, the hand remains shackled to him, gently shaking with each hiccup of tears. 

“Jade. Wake up.”

“Love?”

He blinks and there you are. Blue tears fall down your face and ice fingers pinch into ink. Jade is suddenly awake, releasing the pillow he was embracing and turning on his back, motions hazy with sleep. “Love?” His warm fingers reach up to thumb away the steady waterfall on your cheeks. Sevens, you are freezing. 

“What’s wrong,” he asks as he sits up in bed. For some odd reason, you are dressed up in your white button-up and slacks like you have somewhere to be going. His other hand reaches up and then he cups your face in his embrace. “What’s wrong, (Name)?”

“I wanna go home. Oh, Jade, I really want to go home,” you blubber breathlessly between your bawling. “I just – oh God – I want to go home.” Then, you fall into his shoulder, squeezing him tightly and sobbing anew. Sobbing inconsolable for your mother.

Jade knows that there are fresh tears wetting his bare collarbone but he feels distinctly out of his mind. Like his skin is not really his own, floating in a stranger’s body. Grasped in the throes of selfish panic, he pushes you tighter into his shirtless torso. Sleepy strands of hair are in his mouth; haunted eyes are unfocused in the dark of his room. Despite his large height, he truly does feel like he cannot come to terms with your words and is kicked out of his body because of it. 

Subconsciously, his dominant hand runs over your back in circles. Trying to use it as a rope to come back to his senses more than to comfort you. 

Home? But he had thought — had he mistakenly pushed his own soul’s objective onto you — you cannot go home!

“(N-Name). (Name), love,” Jade says into your ear. You do not respond, hysterically loud enough to drown out his voice.

He is surprised that Floyd has not woken up. The pitch and volume that you cry at is like someone screaming in a cave, knowing they are in solitude and can let it all go. Even when your teeth bite into his shoulder, your cries are far from quieting. 

It does not matter if Floyd was a deep sleeper — which he isn’t, Jade is the deeper sleeper of the two — one should be able to sleep through this.

Yet, grateful Floyd is asleep, Jade hugs you tightly to his warmer skin. Shushing, he runs a hand down the crown of your head to your shoulder, hoping his touch will ground both of you from the cloud of agony. His grip is piercing, dug tight into your skin, but you do not bleed. Holding you so you do not escape him and leave for your home world. Selfish Selfish Selfish. 

Eventually you fall asleep; no one can cry like that without exhausting themselves. 

Eventually he falls asleep, blinking watery at his desk, thinking something is wrong with the image and doubly petrified for the morning. 

When he wakes up, there is no one in his bed.

[thepalebutterfly]

[SPOILER HSR MAIN QUEST] early april fool because today is sunday

[thepalebutterfly]

You can't tell me he doesn't have a bias

[thepalebutterfly]

Leona: Herbivore.

Malleus: Child of man.

Floyd: Shrimpy~.

MC: *holding a lion kid, a little dragon fae, and a child moray (which happens to look like them)*

MC: ...

MC: These are my children.

Floyd: Okay~. We'll raising them together, but you have to throw out the other two.

Malleus and Leona: Absolutely not!

[thepalebutterfly]

Some rando threatening MC: You're coming with me

MC: *starts cackling*

SR: Why are you laughing? I can and will hurt you!

MC: First off, there is a school-wide bet on how long it would be till I got kidnapped again, now I win the pot, so thank you for that. Second I don't think you'll get very far.

SR: *chuckles* Oh really, why is that?

MC: Because there's also a bet on which house warden can save me first...

SR: *gets smashed by 7 different types of magic*

MC: Did I mention none of them like to lose?

*arguing is heard*

MC: *sneaks away and collects the winnings as the Prefect of Ramshackle technically saved themself* Finally, enough money to eat!

[thepalebutterfly]

Special Privileges - Capitano Edition

Content: Capitano takes the reader to a Harbinger meeting. Gender neutral reader (referred to as 'you') described as being physically smaller than Capitano (because he's an absolute titan of a man). General platonic fluff and physical affection.

Word count: 1.5k

"Time to go." Capitano informs you, abruptly placing his book open, face-down on the arm of the couch you're both sitting on together in his study - it's a small, nearly organised room, tucked away from prying eyes and off-limits to anyone who may seek to interrupt Capitano during his day (apart from you of course, you've been granted special privileges).

You let out a little sigh, pulling yourself closer to his side and hunching down smaller so that his cloak is encapsulating you like a blanket, the heavy fabric draped over your shoulders as you stare down at the elegant rug and absently pick at a loose thread on the couch cushion beneath you. 

"Hm?" Capitano is a man of few words and even fewer visual cues, but you know him well enough by now that just the tilt of his helmet tells you exactly what he wants from you. 

"Couldn't you just… skip the meeting?" You hazard, but immediately back off as you feel his shoulders stiffen minutely. "Let the ponces deal with their own problems for once?" You let your tone slip into more of a jokey one. 

"Afraid not." He says, before cautiously wrapping an arm around you in a comforting gesture. 

You wholeheartedly return the favour, shifting your weight on the couch to pull him into a hug. Though he's not in his full battle kit, he's still wearing a thick chestplate of some kind that feels sturdy and solid beneath your hands. It's somewhat comforting, in its own right. 

You reach up to run your fingers through his hair, twirling one thick, tightly coiled lock around two fingers. He tilts his head towards you and lets out a small sigh. "Come on." Capitano encourages you in that soft, gentle tone that he reserves for you (and the occasional small, cute animal he comes across)

You sit up, propping yourself off the couch for a few moments before impulsively plonking yourself down in his lap, facing him with one hand on each shoulder. "What if I don't?" You tilt your chin up to meet his eye (well, helmet-gap) defiantly. You wonder if perhaps you're being selfish - but quickly decide that it's been a long day. Maybe you deserve to be a little selfish. You don't often get to spend time with Capitano like this, and you don't want to let it slip away thanks to some dull meeting.

Capitano remains silent for a few moments, armoured hands coming to rest on your hips to keep you from squirming (not that it would worry him much, given that his size dwarfs anyone and everyone entirely). "Why not?"

"Because it's cold, and meetings are dumb." You decide to keep the point about wanting more snuggles to yourself. You're sure you've made it obvious enough already. 

"Hm." He looks at you thoughtfully for a little longer, before dipping his head. "I see." Without another word, he wraps his arms around you and stands up, adjusting you so you're resting on his hip, not unlike how someone would carry a small child.

"H-hey, what are you doing?" You ask, wrapping your arms around him and clinging on tight. He's never been prone to dropping things, but you suppose there's a first time for everything. 

"You're cold." He mutters, holding you with one big arm as he uses the other to button his large cloak up around you, leaving just your head sticking out. He pulls you closer so you're tucked neatly underneath his chin. "There." He says finally. 

"What about your meeting?" You blink up at him, feeling the soft lining of his cloak brushing up against your cheek. 

"Still going." Capitano wordlessly exits the study. 

You frown, but say no more. Nobody would ever dare question a Harbinger - especially not such a highly ranking one. You can just peek over his shoulder if you crane your neck, and catch a baffled look from the Fatuus standing guard outside Capitano's study. 

It makes you feel a little smug, the exclusive treatment that Capitano gives you. He's not usually so public in his displays of affection, so the fact that he's openly carrying you through the halls of Zapolyarny Palace makes it feel as if something soft and warm has curled up somewhere between your chest and your throat. 

Capitano is a fast walker, whether he means to be or not. His armour thumps noisily as he all but marches towards the meeting room. You find yourself twirling his tightly wound hair once again as you watch the various rooms pass by - now you know how Sandrone feels, being carried around by that massive robot all day.

You let out a little puff of amusement at the comparison you've unwittingly made as Capitano dips his head to two people standing guard outside the meeting room as they open the door for him. 

"A-ha. The mighty Captain finally decides to grace us with his presence." You stiffen as you recognise Arlecchino's smug drawl, turning as much as you can to get a look at the scene you've just been walked into. 

Your heart drops in your chest - it seems like every Harbinger is in here. You almost want to turn back and scold Capitano for not telling you how important of a meeting this was going to be. 

Someone lets out an amused scoff as you tuck yourself as close to Capitano as you can, pressing your chests together as he silently advances across the room. 

"You've got a little something stuck in your cloak there, Captain." Arlecchino snarks, arms crossed over her chest as she watches you both pass by.

"He's got a little buddy!" Columbina is the next one to break the silence as she giggles good-naturedly. As unnerving as she can be at times, she often seems in high spirits. 

You hear someone speak a language you don't recognise, and cautiously poke your head out to see Dottore sitting near the end of the table, chattering into a small device he holds in one gloved hand. 

"Enough." Pierro interrupts as Arlecchino mutters something to Pantalone, who covers his mouth with one hand to hide his chuckle (though the narrowing of his violet eyes give his amusement away clearly). "Now we have all arrived, let's get this meeting underway." He doesn't even acknowledge your presence, which relieves you a little. 

Capitano sits down by the head of the table (to Pierro's right) and adjusts you like you're nothing but a child's doll so you're sitting sideways in his lap, shoulder pressed flush against his chest. 

Despite the fact that being brought into the presence of all the Harbingers feels somewhat like you've been lowered into a pit of venomous snakes, having Capitano to protect you makes you feel safer than you would have wandering around the Palace looking for some menial task to accomplish to make yourself seem busy. 

You look around the room every now and then, but keep catching the eye of the other Harbingers - you especially dislike the almost hungry way Childe looks at you as he twirls a pocket knife absently between his fingers. 

You quickly tune out the contents of the meeting - it's nothing you understand, and you figure that perhaps you'd be better off not knowing any of it anyways. You instead concentrate on Capitano, on his sturdy, unerring presence beneath you and the way he holds you so steadily and confidently, like he doesn't care what anyone else has to say. 

If you set your hands on his chest, you can feel the rasp of his voice that reverberates from inside his armour, making the metal almost vibrate against your fingertips. If you hunch down a little and press your ear against him, you can hear and feel a sort of thrumming coming from inside of him - like a heartbeat, but not quite. It's captivating to listen to, soothing and repetitive to such a degree that you're lulled into a half-asleep state soon after the meeting begins. 

It's warm and cosy and safe here in Capitano's lap. Every now and then, he rubs up and down your back with one big hand, and you feel a strange, vibrating prr-prr-prr come from deep inside his chest as he presses his chin momentarily to the top of your head in a way reminiscent of a light kiss and pets your head gently, brushing your hair out of your face carefully.

Nobody dares to say anything else to Capitano about his unexpected plus-one to the meeting - even Pulcinella (ever the gossip) doesn't say a word, just giving Capitano a strangely knowing smile as they begin to file out once the meeting is done with. 

Even once everyone has left, Capitano remains seated, hunching his shoulders as he bends over a little to curl around you, allowing himself to indulge a little more in the comfort of having you so close now that the others are out of the picture. 

A while longer passes, and you're so entirely comfortable and sleepy that you wonder if you might be dreaming as he finally speaks. 

"I think… I will bring you to meetings more often."

Please don't repost, steal, copy or otherwise plagarise my writing! This includes posting translations to other sites (without credit + permission).

[thepalebutterfly]

Fellas grab your ladies if your lady fine!

Fandom: Bungou Stray Dogs

Pairings: Dazai, Kunikida, Chuuya, Atsushi, Akutagawa X Fem!Reader

Genre: Fluff, Humor

Format: Headcanons

Warnings: None

Word Count: 0.8K

A/n: God I love writing about tiktok trends!

Listen to Finesse By Cardi B & Bruno Mars

This tiktok compilation on Youtube

So basically when you're scrolling through tiktok, you come across this video where the woman stands next to his partner as this part of the song starts, and waits to see whether his man would grab him or not.

Youre a bit unsure if you should try it out with your s/o too, but you made up your mind and go to them

"Babe? Can you come hear a second?"

So as you tell em that youre recording a tiktok video, and ask them to stand next to you, you play this part of the song.

"Fellas grab your ladies if your lady fine!"

⇝Dazai Osamu

Definitely didn't see it coming since he doesn't have tiktok (he just doesn't seem like a person who would be into social media and stuff...), but the way you behaved made him think that something was definitely going on.

So when the song starts playing, he carefully listens to it, and from the lyric and how youre waiting for his reaction he finds out what you want.

Instantly reaches for you and pulls you closer to himself, as he smirks and looks at your satisfied reaction.

"Hey there, fine lady!"

"Hey there, 'Samu" you chuckle while wrapping your arms around his neck, and gently kissing his lips.

Deep down, he's sighing to himself, thinking that you would have killed him if he hadn't acted on time lmao

⇝Kunikida Doppo

So what's tiktok? <3

He's not really willing to do it cause he's not into these kind of stuff, but he's also not one to refuse after you give him the puppy eyes <:

So he secretly looks at his watch while you play the song, and when you do, he's obliviously looking at you, waiting for you to tell him what to do.

He though that this was some sort of tiktok dance as usual😭

When he watches your disappointed reaction, he wonders "What's going on? Why is she staring at me like that?" And that's when he concentrates on the lyric and goes like "Ohhhh..."

He rises his hand to grab your waist, but you shake it away as you walk away from him "I Cant believe you!"

Curses the creator of tiktok while he follows you to make up for the mistake he had no idea he was making 🤧

⇝Nakajima Atsushi

You obviously don't expect him to get it right away, but you just wanna see his reaction so you decide to do the trend.

You both stand next to each as the song starts to play, and you notice him listen to the song carefully so you hope that he does it on time, but when the song stops after that single lyric, he turns at you, dumbfounded.

You laugh as you explain to him what was going on, and he gets gloomy, like "But I don't know English🥺"

Convinces you to give it a go one more time, and this time when the song has barely started playing, he grabs you as fast as he could and shoves you into his embrace.

"Is this ok?" "Yeah! It's perfect" You chuckle while planting a small kiss on his flushed cheeks, thinking how can he be this cute ಥ_ಥ

⇝Akutagawa Ryuunosuke

I think that all mafia members know English since the organization has so many deals with foreign companies, so he knows What the lyric means.

Like Kunikida, hes definitely a hater of not into these stuff, but since you begged him so much he agreed.

Lowkey curious in what trick youre about to pull this time.

So when the song starts playing, he gets Dejavu, like "Haven't I heard this song before?"

That's when it hits him that "Oh! It's from the video Gin was watching- "

Suddenly, everything made sense to him, and exactly a second before the song is over, he places his hand on your waist.

You're surprised as heck cause you didn't expect him todo it😭

He tells you to get to work instead of wasting your time in this nonsense, while he's secretly satisfies with the result😏

⇝Nakahara Chuuya

He has tiktok.

And he's not dumb either.

was actually watching you when you saw this trend for the first time.

LOL I didn't mean in a scary way.

So when you ask him to participate in your video for tiktok, he tries to cover up his smile as he stands next to you.

The second the song starts playing, he suddenly raises you up and holds you princess way, while giving you a cocky smile :D

"Hmph! Testing me like that..."

You would have been on your knees if you were on the ground at that moment cause bruh! The dude looked so fucking hot holding you like you were a peace of paper

(Lets forget about the fact that it's because of his ability🚶🏻‍♀️)

You weren't sure whether to post the video or not but Chuuya made it clear that you have to by giving you a threatening gaze.

He wants other people to know how strong he is and that youre officially taken (:

Reblogs Are Wildly Appreciated!

[thepalebutterfly]

kiss him pls

[thepalebutterfly]

"Diluc, just let her(their daughter) have some fun for a while. She's been cooped up for long and just... Just let her have this, please"

notes: yandere, kidnapped reader, mentions of emotional abuse

He regards you with a pensive look. He looks tired and overburdened. He sighs at your words, turning his head back to look at your daughter, curled up on the small child-sized chair pushed up against the window. The book in her lap is open, forgotten, and she stares out the window with a sad longing that makes your heart hurt.

You know that look.  You know that longing.

Yet at least this overly protective side of Diluc’s fatherhood was something new. Something temporary, you hoped, because you couldn’t imagine your daughter flourishing under Diluc’s tighter reins. 

He had been surprisingly open to letting her enjoy a carefree childhood, and though there was something sick and bitter that grew in your heart when you realized your daughter had more freedom than you ever would, you stamped it down again and again over the years. Let her enjoy that freedom. Let her live the life you couldn’t.

And she did.

Until a few weeks ago.

Your daughter had come running into your arms one morning, eyes filled with tears, voice pitched in some helpless warble that sounded so unlike her. It was more than alarming. Papa, she said, had told her that she wouldn’t be allowed to go into town today after all. She wouldn’t be allowed to go anywhere. Not even to the local school where she’d been attending expensive, exclusive classes. The next day was the same. And the next, and the next.

Oh, he got her new books, and you and the maids and even Diluc himself took turns tutoring her. And she had more toys than she knew what to do with, and she wasn’t discouraged from talking to the maids and cooks, who started eyeing her with more and more pitiful glances as the days, now weeks, went on.

“It’s for her own safety,” is all he said, when you questioned him. “It’s for her protection.”

You’d heard those lines before, but never aimed at your daughter, whose boundless energy kept her outdoors wandering the vineyards; kept her flitting into town with her father, with maids on errands; kept her visiting friends and schoolmates; attending parties, birthdays and childhood afternoon teas filled with pastel pastries.

But the endless days indoors and lack of friends were beginning to change her now. She wasn’t just bored or frustrated. She was losing something, some critical part of herself that had sparked the first time she’d been taken outdoors and was kept lit all these years.

You’d lost that part of yourself. And now he was taking it away from her.

“Diluc,” you repeat, persistent. “You see how this is affecting her. I know you do.” His tired eyes flit from her to you, and you know he sees what you see. It’s like she’s becoming grey.

You turn and gently tug on his arm, and he follows you away from the doorway of her playroom. When you’re safely out of earshot, you turn to him again.

“Why are you doing this?”

“It’s for--” he begins, and you press your hand to his lips, taking a step closer and bringing yourself against his body. The intimacy of the gesture is lost on neither of you. You can’t afford to feel standoffish today, not on important matters like these.

“Yes, I know.  You’ve told me. But why? What has changed from before?”

There’s something in his eyes that darkens. A knowledge he doesn’t want to share with you.

“Diluc,” you say, pressing your hand into his. He accepts it and you squeeze.

He regards you for some time. You don’t say anything, because you know he’s deciding on something. His voice is low and grave when he speaks.

“Children have been going missing. No one knows why or who…” His next pause leaves much unsaid. “But I can’t risk our daughter’s safety. She could be a target.”

You close your eyes and nod. It’s not… wholly unreasonable. But the current situation is not sustainable, and you very much doubt that all the parents in the region are keeping their children like prisoners in their own homes. Manors or not.

“This is killing her,” you whisper, with the confidence that comes from previous experience of what such isolation does to a person. “You’ll kill a part of her that she’ll never get back if you don’t do something.”

When you open your eyes and look at him again, you feel your eyes brimming with tears. You didn’t expect to see his own just as shimmery.

“I know.” He presses you close to him, holding you too tightly for a moment before lessening his grip.

“I’ll…” He pulls back, and toys with the collar of your shirt. “I’ll take her with me into town today. Perhaps we can stop by one of her friend’s homes, for a little visit.”

It’s not much. But it will be enough to keep your daughter’s spark from being totally snuffed out. For now, at least.

“Thank you,” you answer, and you mean it.

[thepalebutterfly]

What about platonic kaeluc? Like angst about their childhood days wishing that they can reconnect and stuff

mihoyo make diluc and kaeya reconnect challenge

i split this up into two parts because the brainrot is real. the first part is just sweet moments when they were little and then the second part is more angstyyy

past

i strongly believe that they got into so much trouble as kids

they’re boys - that’s what boys do

diluc was the brains behind their mischief and usually had to convince kaeya to go along with his plans (kaeya was a good boy)

diluc’s personality eventually rubbed off on kaeya and eventually, they became inseparable

where one brother was, the other was right beside them

kaeya is more sensitive and cautious, not wanting to mess up and have crepus throw him out, but diluc helped him become more comfortable in mondstadt and assured kaeya that he was there to stay

there was enough room in the ragnvindr manor for kaeya to have his own bedroom but he slept in diluc’s room so often, the maids moved a second bed in there so he didn’t have to lay on the floor

sometimes they would lay awake at night and talk about anything and everything from their favorite foods to their dreams of becoming knights to the pretty lady their dad was talking to do that day

by the time both boys are in their teens, their bodies are litered with scars from years of falling out of trees and sparring in the backyard in the middle of the night

and as they got older, they became even closer but they also became competitive

elders in mondstadt just blamed their behavior on their age

diluc received a vision at 10 and kaeya never got one, immediately having a foot above kaeya

and then when they both became knights, diluc excelled faster than kaeya and ranked up the ladder while kaeya took longer

and of course, crepus was his biological father

maybe it was less competition and more kaeya falling into his brother’s shadow

so it really wasn’t that hard to break away when crepus died

present

kaeya wished his adoptive-father didn’t die but he couldn’t help but wonder if, in some horrid way, it was a blessing

diluc dropped the knights of favonius and kaeya finally ranked up to take his spot

plus after that horrible fight kaeya received a vision of his own

but it was weird to think that just a year prior, the boys were sharing stories about their days at dinner and talking about a trip they wanted to go on together

when diluc left mondstadt, kaeya had a lot of time to think

diluc knew his secret now and kaeya fully expected his brother to take care of him once and for all but diluc just...left

he decided then that he would show diluc how good of a person he could truly be and how much he truly cared about mondstadt so when diluc returned, they would reunite like before

only when diluc returned after four years and kaeya met him at the winery and they fought did kaeya realize they would never again have the relationship they used to

it’s awkward for a while when diluc starts bartending at the tavern that kaeya regularly attends but they try their best not to interact with each other

both men would be lying if they said they didn’t care about each other anymore - they did

in fact, they cared about each other so much still that their drawers were filled with messy, half-written letters that would never be sent

in the winter when the world turned white, they were reminded of the countless snowmen they built together as children 

on the surface, kaeya hates diluc and the way his personality won over everyone and the way he carried himself like the rest of the world didn’t exist

but deep down he didn’t hate his brother

he just missed him

maybe one day they would be brothers again but that day just seemed so far away

[thepalebutterfly]

Overprotective with a Hint of Jealousy

Pairings: Various Genshin Men x Isekai'd!Reader

Summary: You knew that the men are protective over you because many things happened to you while you were in Teyvat. Even though you knew they were all protective of you, you couldn't help but have an inkling feeling that a certain someone isn't as nearly as protective of you as they are with someone that no longer exists.

Note: This is just a series of unfortunate events that happens to you in the fic LMAO. I had to throw in some angst and jealousy in this fic because I've been in the mood for some angst lately. Although, this isn't technically considered angst. I have been in the mood for some angst or hurt/comfort kind of fics, so, if you see a lot of them being released, that's why. Also, thank you for over 700 followers! :D I honestly didn't think that many people would follow me or be interested in reading my fics hehe. Seeing you all loving my stories makes me really happy! ^^ To my new and returning readers, I post on AO3 as well, so, if you have an AO3 and see a work similar to this, it’s me (Aaliah_exo on AO3). I don’t post anywhere else but on Tumblr (Genshinluvr) and on AO3 (Aaliah_exo).

Warnings: You get hurt a lot in this fic (idk what's up with me and wanting the reader to get hurt. I don't like causing the reader pain, but I do love it when men are in pain (emotionally)). The overprotectiveness is on the men's end while the jealousy is on your end.

Word Count: 6.3k

It’s pretty evident that the men are protective over you. They hover around you like a ruin hunter, ready to strike anyone or anything that poses a danger to your safety. Think of them as a bodyguard who is madly infatuated (perhaps even madly in love) with the person that they’re protecting. You knew how protective they were over you, but not to this extent. Whenever the men are sparring with one another or having a duel, Zhongli and Thoma would put up a shield around you to prevent you from getting hurt by any stray particles (or even weapons) that can come flying your way, which has happened before.

“It’s showtime!” Itto announces, swinging his claymore at Childe. Childe rolled out of the way as Itto barreled towards his direction. Rocks and particles were flying all over the place as Itto swung his claymore at Childe. Itto and Childe were having their daily spar, and everyone was gathered around to watch and see who would win between the two. Since both Childe and Itto are competitive, they have a scoreboard to keep track of who has won the most.

“My Lord, who do you think is going to win this time?” Thoma asks, sitting down beside Ayato as everyone sat idly by to watch the spar between the oni and the 11th Fatui Harbinger.

“I would say Itto, but with the way Childe is flawlessly dodging Itto’s attacks, I believe that it’ll be Childe that will come out as the victor,” Ayato replies, sipping on his boba.

“Ha! You hear that, Itto? Even Lord Ayato says that I’m going to come out as the winner of today’s spar!” Childe boasts, smirking at Itto widely. Itto smirks and launches himself at Childe. Childe dodges Itto once again before turning his bow and arrow into daggers; he twirls it around in his hands before combining them to make a polearm.

“That’s cool and terrifying at the same time,” Venti commented, nervously laughing as he watched Childe twirl the hydro polearm in his hands elegantly. 

“Oh, that’s terrifying.” Itto laughs nervously. “But I’m up for the challenge, Harbinger!” Itto grins widely, getting into position as Childe slowly approaches Itto while calmly and elegantly twirling the hydro polearm.

“Just don’t injure one another.” Baizhu sighs, shaking his head in disapproval. The last time Itto and Childe sparred with each other, one person would be more injured than the other. It’s gotten to the point where Baizhu wasn’t even surprised to see if it was either Childe or Itto walking into the med bay (there’s a med bay at the abode just in case) or Bubu Pharmacy covered in scratches and bruises from head to toe.

“I don’t think that’ll be guaranteed.” Diluc rolls his eyes, leaning against the pillar. 

Zhongli nods his head with a soft exhale, “Knowing Childe, he will push past his limits, and his thirst for blood will blind him.” 

“Why is he always bloodthirsty? I have never seen Scaramouche act like Childe before.” Gorou laughs nervously, twiddling with his thumbs as he watches Childe and Itto try to land a hit on one another.

“He unleashed Osial and almost drowned Liyue. He has always been deranged.” Xiao huffs, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Oh? How interesting. I wonder how a mere mortal like him is able to unseal an ancient god and wreck havoc on the entire region of Liyue.” Kaeya hums, stroking his chin with a raised eyebrow.

“Oh, don’t we all?” Scaramouche asks, looking over at Zhongli from the corner of his eyes before looking over at where Childe and Itto were battling it out.

Kazuha approaches the thirteen men, looking around the abode with confusion on his face. “Have any of you seen [Y/N] today?” He sits down beside Gorou.

“[Y/N]? I didn’t see them today.” Albedo murmurs, gazing down at his sketch pad as he tries to sketch out the scene in front of him— Childe and Itto battling.

“I assume they’ll be out of the abode soon. After all, it is still early in the morning.” Dainsleif spoke up from where he stood.

“Oh, right! I forgot that it’s still early in the morning.” Venti comments, scratching his chin before his lyre appears out of thin air.

“Who spars this early in the morning, though?” Thoma asks, shivering when a cool breeze blows on him and the others.

“The real question is: why is Ayato drinking boba at this time in the morning? It’s a little bit too early for boba, don’t you think?” Diluc raises his eyebrows at the head of the Kamisato Clan. Ayato chuckles in response, sipping on his boba nonchalantly.

“Oh, Diluc! It’s never too early for boba.” A voice spoke up, grabbing the others' attention. You walked over to where they sat and sat between Ayato and Thoma with your own cup of boba in your hands. “I believe it’s the best way to wake yourself up in the morning! Especially since the one I’m drinking right now has a lot of sugar.” You take a sip from your cup.

“Oh? What flavor is it?” Kaeya leans towards you, gazing at you with curiosity.

“Lavender melon milk tea with sakura!” You chimed, taking another sip from the cup. “Although, lavender melon milk tea with sakura boba is not my go-to flavor. I much prefer osmanthus oolong milk tea; it’s frothy and really good.” You added.

“Then why drink something that isn’t your go-to flavor?” Xiao raises his eyebrows at you.

“Because we ran out of the recipe for the osmanthus oolong milk tea.” You sulked, taking another sip of your boba with a small pout on your face. “Don’t get me wrong! I like the lavender melon milk tea with sakura! The only issue that I have with it is that it’s just really sweet. Although, I do need some sugar to wake me up a little, so I might as well drink the lavender melon milk tea with sakura.” You said, stirring the boba with the straw.

“As you can see, Mister Diluc, [Y/N] has refined taste when it comes to beverages. You can drink boba at any time of day.” Ayato says, humming with satisfaction as he takes a long sip of his boba.

“We bond over boba.” You commented, smiling as you continued to take a sip of your boba happily. “Ah, since I missed the first part of the spar, who’s winning so far?” You ask, looking over at the others.

“So far, none of them has landed a hit on one another. Both Childe and Itto kept dodging one another.” Kazuha says, squinting his eyes as he watches Itto and Childe run across the field while trying to hit one another. 

“I didn’t think sparring could be so boring until now,” Scaramouche mutters, rolling his head to the side with a soft sigh.

“Especially when it comes to that bloodthirsty Harbinger.” Dainslief comments, closing his eyes.

“It almost seems like he’s holding back…” Gorou trails off, trying to keep track of the battle between Itto and Childe.

“Childe? Holding back in his battles? How peculiar.” Baizhu chuckles softly, shaking his head with his arms over his chest. Baizhu leans back in his seat, watching the spar between the oni and 11th Fatui Harbinger on the giant field in the abode. While it was early in the morning, Baizhu was surprised to see how energetic both Childe and Itto were.

“Perhaps he is, but his bow and arrow did turn into hydro daggers, which he combined the daggers to make them into hydro polearms,” Albedo mutters, continuing to sketch on his sketch pad.

“And what does that mean exactly?” Thoma asks, tilting his head to the side while his eyebrows furrowed with concentration.

“It means that Childe’s not going to hold back anymore and that things are about to go down.” You commented, shaking your cup around before looking at the clear cup with a small frown. “Aw man, I ran out of boba already.” You muttered, a faint pout appearing on your face.

“Oh? You finished your drink already? You just got here not too long ago with your drink!” Ayato chuckles, raising an eyebrow at you.

You sighed dramatically, “I know, right? I need to stop drinking boba so fast.” 

You got up from your seat and started to walk back to the mansion to throw your empty cup away. As you were walking away from the field, something whizzed past your face, stopping you in your track. You felt a sharp sting on your cheek; blinking in confusion, you reached up and touched your cheek. You looked down at your hands and saw the crimson color of blood. You slowly turned your head, only to see Childe’s hydro polearm stuck to the tree.

“Watch out!”

Before you could react, Dainsleif yanks you back and into his arms. You stumbled and watched Itto’s polearm come flying and stabbing into the ground where you once stood. Your eyes widened in fear, looking over at Childe and Itto like a deer caught in headlights. Zhongli stood in front of you and Dainsleif, his back facing you and the others. Zhongli had his arms over his chest, looking at Itto and Childe with disapproval. 

“What did I tell you two about being careful when sparring?” Zhongli hissed, his amber eyes glowing with anger.

“Yeah! You two could have gotten [Y/N] killed!” Gorou exclaims, rushing over to your side to check and see if you are okay. Childe panics at Gorou’s comment before running over to your side. He pulls you out of Dainsleif’s grasp, cupping your face in his hands as he presses your cheeks together. The look of fear and worry was evident in his eyes.

“[Y/N]! Snookums! I’m so sorry! I didn’t think that my weapon could slip out of my hands like that!” Childe exclaims, wiping the blood off your cheek with the pad of his right thumb. You winced at the stinging sensation before giving Childe a weak smile.

“It’s okay, Childe! It’s not like you did it on purpose or anything like that.” You reply, placing your hand over his.

“How did that claymore slip out of Itto’s hands, though? It doesn’t make sense since he’s wearing gloves.” Diluc gives Itto a disapproving look as Itto pulls his claymore from the ground.

“Listen, man! Sometimes, things just come flying out of our hands no matter how hard we grab hold of something.” Itto says, strapping his claymore to his back.

Dainsleif rolls his eyes, “Well, be careful next time! You could’ve gotten [Y/N] killed.”

“You’re hurt because of me!” Childe frowns, his eyes zeroing in on the cut on your cheek.

“For someone who is so prideful in being the “strongest,” you sure are careless,” Scaramouche commented, smacking Childe upside of his head, causing the ginger Harbinger to scowl at him.

“You’re lucky that the dagger didn’t penetrate [Y/N]’s skull. If it were to do so, I would’ve killed you.” Xiao glares at Childe before pulling you out of Childe’s grasp and handing you over to Baizhu.

“Let's patch up that wound, shall we?” Baizhu gives you a small smile before escorting you to the mansion.

Diluc sighs softly, “We’re just lucky that this will be the only incident where [Y/N] got a minor injury.” 

Kaeya hums in agreement, stroking his chin with his right hand. “Let’s just hope that this will be the only time.” 

Kaeya leaned against the pillar while the others around him murmured in agreement while nodding their heads. To be frank, everyone thought that the whole sparring incident was going to be the only time where you would get injured or be put in harm's way, but they were wrong. And so were you. For some reason, your luck seems to have gotten worse ever since you almost got your head cut off by Itto’s claymore and Childe’s hydro polearm.

You were walking around Liyue with Scaramouche trailing after you. The both of you were supposed to go to the market to buy some ingredients for Thoma, but then something caught your eyes as the two of you were approaching Liyue Harbor. A beautiful glaze lily, all by itself.

“Ooh! Pretty glaze lily!” You gasped, quickly approaching the lone glaze lily. 

As you were just about to pick the glazy lily off the ground, the ground beneath the glaze lily lit up red. Scaramouche grabs you by your shirt collar and pulls you back into his arms; the two of you stumble to the ground as a pyro whopperflower appears in front of you where the glaze lily once stood. 

You and Scaramouche later returned to the abode with the bottom of your clothes singed and burnt. Scaramouche had a deep scowl on his face while you had a small pout on your face while muttering about being betrayed by the appearance of the glaze lily. While Thoma was disappointed that you came back to the abode empty-handed, he didn’t question as to why you didn’t get any ingredients for him after seeing both your and Scaramouche’s appearance. 

There are days when you want to explore all of Teyvat (mainly Mondstadt, Liyue, and Inazuma) with the men! Ever since the whole sparring and whopperflower incident, it has made the men quite protective of you. You weren’t too sure if they were overprotective of you because you almost got killed or if it was because of your bad luck. The men stuck by your side practically 24/7 outside of the abode, regardless of the actual reason. Some choose to stick by your side at all times, whether you’re in the abode or out of the abode (Childe).

“Can we explore this abode? I’ve always wanted to see what an abandoned abode looks like in person.” You said, pointing at the abandoned abode in Liyue.

“I believe that it’s best that we don’t explore an abandoned abode, especially one that was once owned by a god,” Zhongli says, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Once owned by a god?” You muttered, furrowing your eyebrows in confusion before it dawned on you. Guizhong. The abode that you wanted to explore used to be owned by Guizhong before she passed away and turned into dust. Quite fitting for her title. The God of Dust truly became dust herself. “Oh.” Your expression immediately soured.

“Yeah, never mind then.” You rolled your eyes; you turned around and walked away. Zhongli furrows his eyebrows in confusion at your sudden negative attitude, walking away with a dark cloud looming over your head.

“What just happened?” Venti asks, scratching his cheek with a questioning look. 

“Not sure, but [Y/N] doesn’t seem too happy about not being able to explore an abandoned abode that was once owned by Guizhong, the God of Dust,” Albedo says softly, watching you walk away.

“We should go after [Y/N] just in case something happens,” Kazuha says softly. The others nod their heads in agreement before walking after you. You continued to ignore the sounds of their footsteps right behind yours as you looked around the scenery. While you don’t hold any distaste for the deceased God of Dust, you couldn’t help but feel a tinge of jealousy at the thought of her. Guizhong this, Guizhong that. Guizhong is highly intelligent and is a very close friend of the former archon, Zhongli. Very close friend.

“Uh! [Y/N]! I don’t think you should go there!” Childe hollers, watching you walk further and further away from them.

“Yeah, yeah. Stop babying me; I’ll be fine!” You waved off Childe’s warning, continuing to walk to wherever you pleased.

“No, really! You shouldn’t go there! It’s not safe!” Gorou exclaims.

Despite you being a good fifteen yards away from where they stood, they can hear a faint sarcastic scoff coming from you. Again, you continued walking wherever you desired, not heeding their warnings.

“What’s up with them?” Scaramouche scrunches his face up with annoyance, continuing to trail after you with the others around him.

“[Y/N] is clearly upset that Zhongli wouldn’t let them explore Guizhong’s abandoned abode,” Xiao replies, sighing softly.

“Is [Y/N] really upset about that, or are they upset about something else?” Kaeya cocks his eyebrows at Xiao.

“What would [Y/N] be upset about?” Venti asks, looking at the cryo vision holder curiously.

“It’s a little bit obvious as to what they’re upset about,” Diluc says, sighing softly.

“Listen, it may be obvious to most of you, but it’s not obvious for me and a few others!” Itto says, crossing his arms over his bare chest.

“Well, Itto, some of us have brains, and some of us don’t,” Ayato says, looking over at Itto with a faint smile on his face. Before Itto could open his mouth to say something, he was cut off by the sound of your loud yelp.

“Oh, dear archons.” Thoma quickly rushes over to where you once stood moments before you disappeared. Thoma looks over the edge to see you sliding down the cliff. Well, sliding would be an understatement. You were tumbling and rolling down the steep cliffside.

“Where’s [Y/N]!?” Kazuha asks, running over to where Thoma was standing.

“Tumbling down the cliffside!” Thoma states, pointing over to where you landed. You groaned in pain and lay on the ground. While tumbling down the cliff, you were pretty sure that you had a sprained ankle along with possibly being covered in bruises and scratch marks.

“And you didn’t go down there to prevent them from getting any more injuries?” Albedo asks, looking at Thoma in disbelief.

“How was he supposed to go down the cliffside without getting hurt himself?” Baizhu sighs, crossing his arms over his chest with a frown on his face.

While the men bickered with one another, Dainsleif helped you get back to the top of the cliff where the others stood, still arguing with one another. Dainsleif was giving you a piggyback ride. He was holding onto your legs while you had your arms wrapped around his neck.

“Are you alright?” Dainsleif asks softly, glancing at you over his shoulders.

“Yeah, I am.” You sighed, resting your chin on Dainsleif’s shoulders, closing your eyes as he approached closer to where the others were standing.

“[Y/N]! Are you okay!?” Childe asks, running up to where you and Dainsleif are.

“You’re not injured, are you!?” Diluc asks, his eyes scanning you for injuries. Aside from your disheveled look with a tiny pout on your face, which makes you look adorable. You reminded him of a kitten in a way.

“I’m fine.” You muttered, tightening your grip around Dainsleif.

“[Y/N], we told you not to run off and to be careful. What did you do? Ignore our warnings.” Zhongli scolds you, crossing his arms over his chest with a small glare. You huffed and looked away from Zhongli, burying your face into Dainsleif’s back. You weren’t in the mood to talk to Zhongli, let alone hear him scold you as if you were a disobedient child. Granted, you did ignore their warnings and did end up getting hurt in the end with your recklessness. 

All because you found out that the abode you were wanting to explore belonged to the woman that once meant the world to Zhongli. Zhongli would never care about you as much as he cared about Guizhong. Never. Of course, he would care about you, but only to an extent. You feel your heart clench in your chest. Dainsleif felt his back getting damp, only to realize that you were crying. Dainsleif couldn’t decide on whether you were crying because you were in pain or if it was because of Zhongli.

Dainsleif rolls his eyes before huffing, “Enough. Let’s get back to the abode and get [Y/N] some medical attention.” He pushes past Zhongli and the others, tightening his grip around your thighs.

Once everyone had returned to the abode, you received medical treatment immediately by both Baizhu and Albedo. Your eyes were swollen, your cheeks were bright red, and your eyes were bloodshot. It was clear as day that you cried. Even if the men were to try to ask you if you were okay, you would ignore them and limp away with Dainsleif by your side. The person that you were ignoring the most was Zhongli. Every time you see him, you would bury yourself against Dainsleif’s side with your face pressed up against his chest as if you were trying to hide from Zhongli’s gaze.

“I wonder what you did to make them upset, Mister Zhongli,” Childe says nonchalantly, tossing a berry into his mouth before chewing on it.

“Yeah! I’ve never seen [Y/N] ignore Zhongli like this before.” Gorou speaks up, his eyebrows narrowing slightly.

“They’ve never avoided Zhongli, ever,” Xiao murmurs.

“Zhongli isn’t the only person that they’re ignoring,” Kaeya speaks up, sitting down on an empty wooden stool near the bar.

“They’re avoiding all of us.” Diluc sighs, frowning at the thought of you ignoring them after the incident. 

“Could it be because we’re too overprotective of them?” Ayato asks, looking up at your closed bedroom door.

“That can’t be it! [Y/N] likes it whenever we’re protective of them!” Venti shakes his head at Ayato’s question.

“But not when we’re overly protective of them,” Kazuha interjects, a tiny frown appearing on his face.

“It’s quite obvious why [Y/N] is upset.” Baizhu chuckles dryly, shaking his head. It was obvious! Why weren’t the others getting the hint? Specifically Zhongli. Not only did Zhongli make you upset by mentioning Guizhong, but he fueled the fire by scolding you right after you had taken a tumble. The only bright side was that you weren’t terribly injured. You only got scrapes and bruises. You did sprain your ankle, so you ask Dainsleif to help you around the abode while ignoring others around you that had offered to help you. Specifically Zhongli himself.

“Well, they need to tell us what’s wrong. If it’s about the stupid abode, then [Y/N] shouldn’t be getting upset over not being able to explore something as old and vacant.” Scaramouche grumbles.

“Perhaps it’s something that relates to the abode that upsets them,” Albedo says softly, looking over at Zhongli from the corner of his eyes. Zhongli still didn’t get the hint and continued to contemplate what could have caused you to be upset with him, other than scolding you and stopping you from exploring an abode that was once owned by Guizhong.

Days have gone by, and it was like you were testing out how protective they are over you. Or, well, it seems like you were testing out their patience instead. One time, you came back to the abode after leaving to shop for some groceries, only to come back with an arrow stuck on your shoulders.

“What happened?!” Diluc gasps, running over to you, gently grabbing you by your uninjured shoulder.

“Treasure hoarders.” Was what you’ve squeaked out before collapsing into Diluc’s arms, dizzy from the amount of blood you’ve lost. Diluc picked you up bridal style before rushing you to the med bay where Baizhu and Albedo were. Baizhu and Albedo nearly had a heart attack at the sight of you being covered in your own blood, with an arrow sticking out of your shoulders.

“Dear archons, what happened?!” Baizhu asks, immediately rushing to your side with medical supplies in his hands.

“Treasure hoarders.” You breathed, your head resting against the crook of Diluc’s neck, eyelids feeling heavy.

“You didn’t have anyone accompany you in Teyvat?” Albedo asks, pulling on latex gloves.

“Well, Zhongli offered to accompany me, but I declined his offer and left.” You sighed, wincing in pain when Albedo gently tugged on the arrow.

“It’s really stuck in there.” Albedo hums, looking over at Baizhu.

“What do we do? Pull it out or get it surgically removed?” Baizhu glances over at Albedo, who is deep in his thoughts.

“Pull it out!?” You shrieked, jerking up from your spot, looking at Baizhu and Albedo with wide eyes.

“Pull what out?” Thoma asks, walking into the med bay while munching on his Dango. Thoma’s eyes fall on your shoulders; Thoma’s Dango falls out of his hands at the mere sight of blood on your body and an arrow sticking out of your shoulders.

“I’m okay! Just another day in the life of [Y/N].” You squeaked, giving Thoma a strained smile.

Long story short, Albedo and Baizhu ended up yanking the arrow out of your shoulders. You have never screamed so loud in your entire life that you were sure that it shook the whole mansion. Sadly, whenever you let out that loud, agonized scream, it attracted the attention of the others who weren’t there to witness it. Like last time, Zhongli gave you a disapproving look that reminded you of your parents.

“You wouldn’t have gotten hurt if you had allowed me to accompany you.” Zhongli sighs.

“Well, maybe I don’t want you to accompany me and would much rather have someone else protect me instead.” You huffed, crossing your arms across your chest before wincing at the sharp pain that shot up your injured shoulder.

“Yikes,” Venti mutters, his eyes widening at your response to the ex archon.

“Ouch.” Kaeya hissed, watching the quarrel between you and Zhongli unfold.

“If [Y/N] said that to me, I would’ve cried myself to sleep,” Itto commented.

“They didn’t even say that to me, and it hurt my feelings,” Ayato whispers to Itto, Kaeya, and Venti.

“You’re still upset with this old man not allowing you to explore the old crusty, dusty, vacant abode?” Scaramouche asks, cocking his eyebrows at you. You rolled your eyes in response while Zhongli glared at Scaramouche.

“I think we should leave [Y/N] and Zhongli alone for them to talk it out,” Kazuha says, getting up from his seat.

“No! Don’t leave me alone with him!” You exclaimed.

“[Y/N]!” Xiao gives you a look, but you ignore it.

“Hey, if [Y/N] doesn’t want to talk to Zhongli at the moment, then let’s not force them to, alright?” Gorou speaks up, his eyes scanning the room.

“I believe that [Y/N] is just tired, and their injury is causing them to be irritable. They should get some rest.” Dainsleif says, helping you off the bed. You immediately attach yourself to Dainsleif’s side, your uninjured arm linked with Dainsleif’s arm. You failed to see the expression on Zhongli’s face after your protest of being left alone with him. Zhongli felt his heart throb in his chest painfully as he watches you and Dainsleif walk out of the med bay, completely ignoring his presence and stare. 

You have bad luck when it comes to being outside of the mansion. You almost got killed by Childe and Itto’s weapons, you took a tumble down the side of a cliff, and you got shot in the shoulder by a treasure hoarder. If bubble wrap were to exist in the world of Genshin Impact, you were pretty sure that the men would wrap you up in bubble wrap to prevent you from getting hurt. What they didn’t think about was that you could get hurt in the mansion too. You were helping Thoma make dinner for everyone else.

“I’ll cut the onions.” You said, grabbing the purple onion from the vegetable bowl before peeling the skin off the onion.

“Here’s a knife to slice the onions.” Thoma hands you the knife with the handle facing your way. You reached over to grab the knife before placing it down on the wooden counter. After peeling the onion’s skin off, you began cutting the onion. You ended up regretting offering to cut the onions because now your eyes were stinging, and tears were running down your face. Instead of stopping to give your eyes a break from the whole onion ordeal, you persevered. 

“So! What are we having for dinner?” Itto and Gorou walk into the kitchen, sniffing the air.

“Wow! Smells really good!” Gorou exclaims. He peeks over Thoma’s shoulder to see what Thoma is cooking.

You wiped the tears off your face, your eyes squinting as you continued to slice the onions. Your eyes stung so much as the tears that were rolling down your cheeks like an endless stream.

“What’s the matter, [Y/N]? Why are you crying?” Diluc asks, grabbing your attention from the cutting board.

You laughed, “Nothing’s wrong, Diluc! It’s the onions that are stinging my eyes, causing me to shed a tear or two.” You wipe your eyes with the back of your hand. “I hate onions sometimes.” You sighed, tossing the slice of onions into a medium-sized bowl.

“You had me worried for a second. I thought you were injured again.” Kazuha says, gently nudging your side with a teasing smile on his face.

“Oh, Kazuha, I appreciate that you worry for me, but I’m not injured.” You poked him lightly.

“Thankfully, or else the funeral consultant over there will hurt someone if you were injured.” Kaeya comments, tilting his head over to where Zhongli stood.

“We’ve seen Zhongli angry before, but I don’t want to see how angry he can get.” Childe comments, taking a big bite out of the sunsettia in his hand.

“He’ll probably throw boulders like how he did that to me in the past. Isn’t that right, blockhead?” Venti asks, looking over at Zhongli with a teasing smile on his face.

“Throw boulders?” Scaramouche asks, glancing over at Xiao.

“Don’t ask.” Xiao shakes his head, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“You know, I wouldn’t mind witnessing Zhongli throwing boulders at someone.” Ayato comments, biting down on his boba straw with a smile.

“I’ve witnessed it with my own eyes before….” Dainsleif says, giving Zhongli the side-eye. Zhongli looks at Dainsleif; the two held eye contact for a while. You and the others around you can feel the tension between Dainsleif and Zhongli. You pursed your lips before continuing to do your task of helping Thoma cook dinner. The kitchen is quite spacious, but not enough to fit over ten people in the room, with furniture and kitchen appliances in certain areas of the room. For some reason, everyone wanted to stay in the kitchen while you and Thoma tried to make dinner, thus making the kitchen a little bit cramped.

Gorou, Childe, Itto, and Xiao were chasing each other around (well, Xiao was cursing at Itto to not run in the kitchen) the kitchen. Thoma was carrying a pot of boiling water when Itto and Childe bumped into Thoma, causing the pyro vision wielder to jerk forward, spilling almost the entire pot of boiling hot water onto you.

From then on, everything was a blur to you, and you didn’t know what else happened afterward. All you could remember was your arm, your body, one side of your neck, and your face burning. You didn’t remember if you screamed in pain or if you reacted in any particular way because when you came to your consciousness, you were in the arms of Zhongli.

“It hurts, it hurts so much.” You sobbed; your body was shaking from the immense pain you were feeling. Your arm and legs were dark red from the scalding hot water. Diluc, Kaeya, and Dainsleif were scolding— no, yelling, at Childe, Itto, and Gorou while Xiao stood where you and Zhongli lay.

“I’m going to kill them,” Zhongli mutters, looking over at Childe, Gorou, and Itto with a glare.

“Take [Y/N] to the med bay,” Baizhu says.

“Carry them there immediately because I’m afraid that if we don’t get [Y/N] treated right away, their tissue and cells would be destroyed,” Albedo says, examining your reddened skin.

Zhongli didn’t speak to anyone after that incident, and he wouldn’t leave your side, even if you’ve thought about avoiding him. But you couldn’t do that, especially right after you saw the expression on his face while you were getting your burns treated. Now you have bandages wrapped around the areas that were burned by the scalding hot water. You were forbidden from stepping foot into the kitchen if Itto, Childe, and Gorou were present. You were pretty much bedridden until you were able to do everyday tasks without wincing in pain. Doctor Baizhu’s orders and Albedo’s order as well.

“Looks like Zhongli and Thoma will have to put a shield on you at all cost to prevent you from getting hurt,” Venti commented.

“Seems like it.” You sighed, laying down on your bed with a weak sigh.

“How are you feeling?” Kaeya asks, sitting down beside you as he tucks your hair behind your ears.

“It still hurts. I don’t really remember what happened when the water spilled on me.” You muttered, gazing down at the nude color bandages that were wrapped around your legs, arm, neck, and torso (which were covered by your shirt).

“You screamed so loud that glass shattered. You went into shock and nearly collapsed to the ground, hitting your head on the table. You were lucky that Zhongli was immediately at your side the minute he heard your bloodcurdling screams.” Ayato says, his eyes scanning your injuries. How many times were you injured within the span of a week? One was enough, but it seems like your luck seems to have worsened after the whole Itto and Childe sparring incident.

“I’m so sorry for spilling boiling hot water on you, [Y/N]! If I held onto the handles more tightly, it wouldn’t have spilled all over you.” Thoma’s bottom lips quivered as tears began to pool in his eyes.

“No! It’s not your fault at all, Thoma! Please don’t blame yourself!” You squeaked, grabbing onto Thoma’s hand, giving him a comforting squeeze.

“You never gave us a reason as to why you’re upset with Zhongli,” Xiao spoke up from his spot. You sighed and sat back on your bed, scratching the back of your neck, only to end up scratching the bandage.

“I…. got jealous that Zhongli still cares about Guizhong even way after she had passed. I wanted to have someone to care about me as much as Zhongli cares about her long after she’s gone.” You reply, tugging on the loose thread of your shorts.

“I’m sure he cares about you too, just as much as we care about you,” Diluc says.

You shook your head, “I’m talking about if I were to return to my world. No one will care or remember me long after I’m deceased. I don’t have a lover who cares about me as much as Zhongli cared about his deceased lover.” 

“Guizhong isn’t Zhongli’s lover; she was his close friend,” Childe comments, looking at you quizzically.

“Either way, I’m never getting that. Ever. I’ll just be forgotten, as usual….” You trailed off with a sigh. “Speaking of being forgotten, I don’t think anyone in my world noticed that I had mysteriously disappeared.” You muttered, your shoulders slumped at the realization.

“All I’m getting from this is that you’re going to choose Zhongli in the end,” Scaramouche comments, earning a scoff from you. You shook your head and closed your eyes. Ever since you arrived in Teyvat, you’ve already been through so many things. But this week and the previous week were strange. You kept getting bodily injuries that could have killed you, yet you somehow survived all of these strange and dangerous events.

“As if I’ll be choosing any of you in the end.” You said, earning collective gasps from the men. “Oh, wow, I worded it wrong. I didn’t mean it that way!” You smacked your forehead with the palm of your hand.

“I meant that I don’t know if I’ll be returning to my world or if I’ll be stuck here forever. I’m hesitant about “choosing” who I want to be with because what if I end up returning to my world?” You ask.

“Why choose when you can be in a relationship with all of us?” Itto asks.

“I honestly don’t know how that is going to turn out. Some of you are possessive more than the others!” You exclaimed, looking over at Childe and Zhongli, who avoided your gaze with a faint blush on their cheeks.

“I believe that we’re all possessive over you in some kind of way,” Gorou says. 

“Some of us might not show it, but we’re quite possessive. Even if some show it more than the others.” Kaeya looks around the room, making eye contact with certain people in the room.

“I think it’s cute that you guys are protective over me, but maybe dial it back a little?” You ask, giving them a pleading look.

“I don’t think that’ll be possible, dove.” Kazuha chuckles, shaking his head.

“You endured many injuries within a week; I believe that we should keep [Y/N] at the abode at all times.” Ayato declares. Everyone (except for you) immediately agreed to Ayato’s suggestion.

“If it keeps [Y/N] out of harm's way, I’m okay with that,” Zhongli says, sitting down on your bed beside you.

“Are there any objections?” Dainsleif asks, looking around the room for any protests.

“Yes, me! I object!” You whined. “I need to go outside once in a while! You can’t just keep me in the abode for a long period of time!”

“If it’s to keep you safe, we will do it,” Zhongli says.

You groaned and plopped back down on your bed, the top of your head hitting the wooden headboard of your bed, making you cry out in pain.

“Well, it looks like we’ll be getting rid of that headboard.”

“HUH!?!”

Note: It's insane how I kept getting ideas for new fics when I need to make more parts for other fics hahaha. I'm trying to update at least once a week for you all to read and enjoy. I am nearing the end of my second year of college and will be graduating soon, so, I'm hoping that I can start accepting requests once I've graduated! As for my schedule, once my third year of college begins, I'll have to think about that more since the semesters are way shorter at universities. This note will always be at the bottom of my stories: I ONLY post on my Tumblr (Genshinluvr) and my AO3 (Aaliah_exo)! Nowhere else except Tumblr and AO3!

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[thepalebutterfly]

Byeol~ I hope you're having a lovely time wherever you are!! You can do this when you're not busy, but I wanted to make a drabble request with the "there's only one bed" prompt with Ayato and Childe <33 I'm stuck between Diluc and Scaramouche (since your characterization for them is to die for) so you can choose whoever you like more for the last. Thank you so much and have a good time!

underneath twilight

✦ ayato. childe. diluc. scaramouche. x gn!reader

✦ tags: sharing a bed (completely SFW) + various tropes.

ayato *. ⋆ lord and employee relationship

your eyes bounce between the extravagant king-sized bed and sofa. immediately, you make a beeline for the latter and promptly sit down on it. 

as you fluff the cushions on the sofa, AYATO's shadow casts over where you are. aside from his clean, familiar scent that was enough to scramble your brain whenever it enveloped you, he was the only other person in the room. 

the room he insisted you stay in — reasoning that it was reckless for you to sleep with the other male housekeepers, and that no one would wait on him. 

wasn't it the same though, staying in the same room as him? you wanted to question, but refrained, biting your tongue instead. he'd most likely find another way to have the last word. he always did. 

you look up at him, folding your hands in your lap and offering him a polite bow. "i bid you goodnight, milord. please do not hesitate to wake me if you require anything." 

ayato hums, tilting his head in your direction playfully, before elegantly taking a seat next to you. he crosses his legs, blatantly making himself comfortable. 

you blink dumbly. what was he up to now? squirming slightly under his gaze, you cautiously approach, "my lord?" 

"go ahead. sleep," he taunts airily. his voice drops an octave lower when he follows his challenge with, "i'll move you to the bed once you do." 

your stomach knots furiously, and it only worsens when he leans in abruptly. the commissioner seemed to have no concept of personal space, as he always lingered a little too close — never at a distance that could allow you to form coherent thoughts. 

the only problem was, you didn't mind this as much as you should have. 

"is that what you were hoping for?" he asks, tone changing from teasing to innocent so startlingly it almost gave you whiplash.

but after working alongside him for several years, you knew that ayato was never innocent — no matter how much he tried to hide it behind an innocuous facade composed of eloquence, grace, and close-lipped smiles. 

"i wouldn't dare!" you refute a tad too late. and with the cheery grin on his face, he knows you had considered it. sputtering out, "i could not possibly allow you to sleep here!" 

"i never mentioned that i would." he stands up, finally giving you a chance to breathe again, and makes a show of clambering into bed. laying on his side, his eyes shone with a gleam you were all-too-familiar with. "i'll stay right here. beside you." 

the long whoosh of air that gets knocked out of you a second time leaves you speechless, and all you could do was stare at him, open-mouthed, from where you sat. 

when you don't move, ayato sighs. "would you rather i turn this into an order?" he says it good-naturedly, though you knew firsthand that he'd make do with this threat. "i will not lay a hand on you. quite frankly, i cannot be bothered with the paperwork if you do report me for harassment." 

and even though ayato was never innocent, he's never placed you in harm's way. so, you slowly make your way to the bed with your back against the wall, arms slightly raised in apprehension.

still, you wonder if you could get away with strangling him in his sleep. you're pretty sure you'd be doing everyone a favor. perhaps a generous reward awaits you from guuji yae. 

ayato only tracks your figure with a lazy, amused smile. like a fox waiting for its prey. 

eventually, you find yourself under the covers. exhausted from today's activities and not wanting to deal with the man next to you, you fall asleep rather quickly after a murmured goodnight.

propping his head in his fist, he gingerly pulls the blanket closer below your chin. his hand lingers there for a second, thinking about how easily you'd fallen into his whims. 

his hand trails down to your jawline, tracing it as you slept. his heart is barely beating when a content sigh leaves your lips, feeling as if he could stay in this moment forever. 

in this moment, where you felt within his reach. and although you always were, given your occupation, tonight felt like he was hanging by a thin thread — suspended in time.

a place where status did not matter. a place where he did not have to mind prying eyes, and meddlesome mouths. a place where, even while you were asleep, his touch could cause you such contentment. 

and that was enough for him.

for now, at least.

childe  *. ⋆  childhood friends to lovers

"leave that for tomorrow," CHILDE complains, calling out to you from the other side of the room.

"i know, i know," you mutter to yourself, rubbing your eyes tiredly as you finally switch the lights close. "'m coming." 

it's almost pitch-black, and the cool weight of evening and fatigue fall on your shoulders. only silhouettes dance within the shadows as you maneuver in the dark to locate your bed. 

your knees hit the edge of its frame, and you pat the surface blindly. childe lets out a small grunt, "that was my stomach," he all but wheezes. 

"sorry," you snickered, not sounding a bit apologetic.

childe coming over to sleep was nothing new. the two of you were inseparable when you were younger, and you shared many other things besides a bed growing up. 

that is until he disappeared from your life for quite a while, and this little sleepover would mark the first time in a long time again.

though not much has truly changed. 

he's still insisted that you take the side that's right next to the wall, with him closest to the door. he explained that he'd be able to protect you much more quickly if ever someone intruded.

and like before, you're always the last to come to bed, so you always find yourself crawling over him to get to your spot. 

but the passage of time does not keep everything the same. it's inevitable — something that goes by unnoticed when you don't pay attention. not until the shifts are right in front of you.

because now, you've forgotten that childe's taller. much broader. and before you realize it, you clumsily fall over half of his body. he lets out a second grunt that night, and with a strength you don't recall he possessed before, he keeps you there by draping an arm over your hip. 

you strain your head up to look at him, the tip of your nose brushing his neck. this too, seemed like a new development. one you weren't overly opposed to. hesitantly, you whisper, "childe ... ?"

"stay there," he mumbles, releasing you momentarily to fix your positions and the blanket over both of you. you bury your face in his neck as he holds you in an attempt to become snug. 

"good?" he asks quietly. his fingers thread in your hair, featherlight touches as they dance atop your scalp.

you hum an affirmative reply, clinging to his shirt just a little more.

"good." there's a fond lilt in his voice, and you knew that he'd probably give you shit about this tomorrow morning, but you couldn't help it. 

despite the changes, despite all the years that passed, he still felt warm and familiar. solid and safe. 

"i didn't know you missed me this much," he teases. apparently, he couldn't wait until tomorrow. 

"i did," you admit, and childe is partly taken aback, not expecting you to humor him with blunt honesty. "more than you know." 

the arm around you tightens, pulling you even closer to his side. feigning his laid-back demeanor, he easily replies with, "oh, i know." 

you huff, managing a retort despite your weariness. "you're so annoying."

he laughs, and you feel his entire upper body shake. his hand goes to your upper arm, rubbing it up and down mindlessly. "but you love me." 

"i do," you whisper. the confession is so delicate — so raw — that his hand stills in their movements while sleep drags you deeper into its hold. "more than you know." 

vaguely, you feel him angle his head to look down on you. something damp presses against your forehead so lightly, that you almost believe that you were dreaming already. 

but childe's lips murmur against your forehead.

"i love you more." he breathes.

diluc  *. ⋆  fake dating

DILUC pinches the bridge of his nose in aggravation. he didn't account for how kaeya and the others would actually go this far. 

it started with a straightforward proposition. a simple scheme to get elzer and kaeya off his back, but he didn't foresee this far ahead into the future, nor considered this possibility. 

a future where you're both forced to share a room since you were parading around as "lovers" in mondstadt.

"i'm really sorry," you began, and diluc hates the way you sound so remorseful. this wasn't even your fault, as it was him who'd stupidly roped you into this entire predicament. "i could ask the front desk if they have another spare room, but they might find out that we separated ways." 

and he hates that it's still him, his reputation, his well-being, that you were considering to the very end. "i don't care. i would much rather have you sleep comfortably instead of keeping up with this act. i can sleep on the floor or move rooms —" 

"it's fine!" you blurt out. diluc opens his mouth to protest again, but you hurriedly propose, "we can share! it's just two people sleeping." 

with the look on your face, diluc knew you weren't entirely convinced as well. but then you continue with forced indifference lacing your voice, "plus ... this is all just fake, right?" 

an arrow pierces through his chest. 

"yes," he lies, mouth going dry. the arrow's steel tip digs down a little deeper. 

you nod, gifting him with a smile that's meant to reassure him, but diluc only feels dishonorable. after a while of awkwardly shuffling around one another, you feel the bed dip beside you as he finally lies down. 

"should i head down and request another blanket?" diluc offers. truly, why would whoever designed this room place an enormously large bed with a single piece of cloth that was half its size? 

you swallow nervously, avoiding his eye. "we could also ... share. if you don't mind." 

he gives you the tiniest little nod, and before he can spark another argument about moving rooms once more, you scoot closer to his side until you're flush against him. 

draping the blanket over both of you, he wonders if you could hear the hammering of his heart in this dead of night. it would be impossible for you not to. 

"please sleep well." your words come out muffled from his chest, and your breathing slowly evens out.

he keeps his arm above your shoulder, afraid to wrongly touch you anywhere else.  

he's aware that you've both gone too far to go back, and that you're both too terrified to move forward. and with the way he pulls you closer, presses you more tightly against him, even he can't deny that this wasn't just for warmth anymore. 

because with every minute that goes by, diluc knows he can't ever let you go. not when you feel like home in his arms. 

so he closes his eyes and decides that when the sun rises, he needs to make this all real, somehow. 

but that was a promise for tomorrow when you both start anew. 

scaramouche *. ⋆ enemies to lovers

"listen, can we please just get this over with?" you plead wearily. 

SCARAMOUCHE stood by the edge of the singular bed that you were currently arguing over. exhaustion permeated the air, as today's mission was longer than most — courtesy of your assigned partner, who never failed to give you a migraine — and you definitely did not want to sleep on cold, hard ground tonight. 

scaramouche closes his eyes with an irritated click of his tongue, looking as equally exhausted as you did. still, he manages to sneer and say, "and as i said, i'll be taking the bed." 

you heave a sigh, massaging your temples. "no, you'll take the floor." 

"i won't. do you forget your place? i carry a higher rank than you do." 

"fine," you spit out bitterly. "i'll go and ask childe if i can room with him. maybe he won't be an immature ass and actually knows how to fucking share." 

that's when his head snaps back to look at you again. bingo. his nostrils flare while he glowers at you — an expression you were practically immune to by now. "i can fucking share."

"see?" you scoff. archons, he was so predictable. "must you always win?" 

unbeknownst to you, scaramouche lets that comment slide, distracting himself by rearranging the extra pillows into a line down the middle of the bed, splitting it in half. 

because yes, when it comes to you, he'll always win. he wants — needs — to.

he gets in first, and you follow right after without any semblance of fear. it's something that's bothered him up to this very day and is responsible for the tight feeling in his chest whenever in your orbit that he's yet to name or acknowledge at all.

"stay on your fucking side or i will burn this entire place down," scaramouche warns threateningly.

you don't miss a beat when you answer just as rudely, "then we wouldn't have anywhere else to sleep, you idiot."

both of you lay there in stifling silence for a while, both staring up at the ceiling. neither of you questioned the tsaritsa's orders whenever you were forced to work together — but sleeping was a dangerous and vulnerable position to be caught in even if you were technically on the same side.

and it seemed like both of you was aware of that. 

"thank you," you express quietly, clearing your throat. your words hang heavily above your head, but you carry on. "i wasn't entirely keen on sharing a room with childe. or anyone else, if i'm being truly honest." 

the air shifts ever so slightly, and scaramouche stays silent for three more seconds before he can prevent himself from asking, "because?"

he feels you move to peek at him from the fortress of pillows, and he can nearly imagine the astonishment on your face. as much as he wants to witness it, he keeps his eyes stubbornly trained on the ceiling. 

"oh. well, i'm simply not as comfortable with the others unlike when i'm with you," you reveal easily, lying back down.

a feeling of pride surges in his chest.

"and i'm sorry —" you begin before he cuts you off. 

"it's ... fine," he responds curtly. the phrase felt so foreign on his tongue. dealing with forgiveness was never his specialty. normally, whoever slighted him never lived to see another day to apologize. 

"but are you always this talkative even before you sleep?" he gripes without any real malice to it. 

you let out a small, drowsy laugh, and he finds himself enamored with the sound, instead of being vexed. he doesn't fight the urge anymore and turns his head to look at you. 

he's grateful he did. 

it was the first time he'd seen you laugh, genuinely, without any pretense, and it filled him with another strange, unfamiliar, burst of emotion. 

"only with you," you mumble softly, a small smile playing on your lips. "goodnight, idiot." 

he merely scoffs at your name-calling, not wanting to presume how affectionate it almost sounded. soon, he allows himself to rest, sleeping soundly for the first time in years. 

and neither of you says anything when you both wake up entangled in each other's arms. 

the line of pillows gone, boundaries crossed, and sides long forgotten. 

✦ byeol’s notes: thank you to the lovely nonnie who requested this! i decided to do them all, my way of saying thanks for being so sweet and i loved the idea! and to my other readers, i'll be back to posting regularly — at least, once a week — if life is kind. ♡

i've been catching up on kdramas and manhwas, so you might've noticed that ayato's part is inspired by that one scene in the business proposal and the duke's cursed charm.

✦ reblogs and feedback are greatly appreciated! feel free to send any requests in. thank you sm and ily <3

[thepalebutterfly]

#guy next door kind of likes you (it’s a secret though) 

—what kind of neighbor are they? and also… they kinda like you shh you’re not supposed to know that! 

CHARACTERS. Aether, Albedo, Ayato, Childe, Dainsleif, Diluc, Gorou, Itto, Kaeya, Kazuha, Scaramouche, Thoma, Venti, Xiao, Zhongli; gn! Reader 

THEMES. crack; fluff; platonic to romance kind of; has implications of being a drunkard (venti’s part) 

NOTES. I was originally going to go for the college headcanons but i decided to do it next time since this one seemed too adorable to not write now. 

ZHONGLI is the gentleman neighbor. Always helping whenever you needed, always greeting you in the mornings when he goes to work and you were also about to do so with yours, or when you two also see each other when you both go home. Sometimes, he invites you to tea, especially when you openly show that you are comfortable with him and consider him as a friend. Actually, he sort of became your confidant. If you had anyone or anything you were frustrated with, it would be his pleasure to hear your worries and rants. He also has a knack of giving you history lessons… he doesn’t really mind even if you feel sleepy from hearing them, he’d find it adorable when he finds you asleep that time he was comforting you through his stories even. 

XIAO is the neighbor who glares at you or narrows his eyes at you when you meet his gaze. You always think that he is angry at you, so you never tried to approach him. At first. One day, however, you were walking home alone and he had saved you when some drunk person tried to hit on you. You invited him to dinner the next day in thanks for this, and since then, you found out that he wasn’t angry or irritated at you. He was just… normally like that, especially when it’s someone who he did not know much. The more you got to know him, the more you got curious about what else he would open up to you. He’s kind of like an onion; will sting you a couple of times with his words, but will nonetheless have many layers, but all the layers were a part of him, and you had grown to love each one of them. Before you know it, you will be considered the one closest to him and one of the very few people he trusted. Unbeknownst to both you and him, he was feeling more than that. 

Keep reading

[thepalebutterfly]

Hello! I absolutely love your writing and I have never written a request before so I thought I might ask for a kaeya-childe-zhongli waking up and seeing in the morning sort of thing if that makes sense. Just a wholesome head cannon to brighten people’s days. If you are busy writing other things that is fine but if you do manage to write this I will be very grateful :))

Morning Sunshine

Home page

Pairing | Childe, Kaeya and Zhongli x Reader (separate)

Author’s Note | This took me so long to do. Sorry for being so inactive, I am still alive although barely. I was going to finish this later because of my freaking head, but Hu Tao came home early so in celebration, here you go! Thank you for the request Anon, I really hope that this is ok☺️

Warning | Fluff overload, established relationships(?) and it’s unedited!

Waking up beside you every morning is by far the greatest blessing I will ever receive.

Childe wakes up pretty early every morning, it’s become a habit of his since his days within the lower ranks of the Fatui, but as much as he’s an early bird, Childe doesn’t get up until you do.

Instead he prefers to watch you sleeping peacefully and it’s at times like these where he would silently thank every Archon for your presence in his life.

Childe would sometimes even daydream about a child or two soundly sleeping in between the two of you, but those were just his wishful thoughts -he would never force you into doing something you were uncomfortable with.

Nonetheless while you were fast asleep he’d whispered little ‘I love you’s and other praises into your ear while pulling you closer.

—————

As you stirred awake within the comfort of your shared bed, you felt the arm around your waist shift -pulling you closer towards his chest. The shapes that were drawn on the small of your back almost succeeded in lulling you back into your deep slumber, but the warm voice beside your ear stole you away from sleeps’ grasp.

“Morning Sunshine, did you dream of me again?”

You didn’t have the capacity to answer -still trying for to rid yourself of slumbers’ remnants, so instead, you hummed, regardless of his question.

With his arm still holding you, you contemplated going back to sleep but you remembered the day ahead of you and shifted once again.

“How I about I make you some breakfast today since I’m off?”

Once again you hummed in response -this time in agreement. Childe’s breakfasts were absolutely delicious and enough to make you open your dazed eyes.

You met his gaze with your own and felt the heat rise up your cheeks at the sight of his gentle, loving smile.

Right now he wasn’t Tartaglia of the Eleven Harbingers nor was he Childe, he was just Ajax -your Ajax, the very same one who would steal kisses from you throughout the day and sway to an old Snezhnayan song with you at night. He was the the you fell for and the one you adored waking up to every morning.

Good luck getting him out of bed. Personally, I believe Kaeya would persuade you into sleeping for another five minutes, but of course those five minutes would turn into thirty.

The two of you typically wake up around the same time, but stay in bed until the one gathers enough willpower to get up —and knowing Kaeya, it’s usually you.

Breakfasts are always entertaining as the two of you are either throwing flirty remarks at each other or discussing the events of the previous day; with Kaeya around there is never a dull moment, so you guys almost always have some form of content to talk about.

But on those quieter mornings, the two of you go through your morning routines in a comfortable silence until one of you depart for your daily duties.

—————

It was one of those quieter days. The both of you were still tired from the previous days’ events, from helping out with commissions to endless piles of paper work -needless to say six hours of sleep each, was not fun, but the small touches and tender kisses between the two of you were comforting.

You sat in front the dresser, fixing your appearance when you felt his soft skin snuggle into the crook of your neck from behind. He was fully dressed and most likely about to leave soon but he was yet to wear his eye patch so you gazed into his mismatches eyes -feeling as if you were being pulled in by his star shaped irises.

“What’s your day looking like?” He hummed as he proceeded to pepper your skin with kisses.

Still looking at him, a thoughtful look glazed your eyes before you responded.

“Will you be back by dinner?” You asked, knowing full well that Kaeya’s schedule was always full early in the week despite his easy-going attitude.

“I’ll have lunch with you, but dinner might be a problem.” He hummed, his voice vibrating through your skin.

You’d most likely wait up for him if you were able to, you thought.

Turning your attention back to him, you placed a hand on his smooth hair -unable to help the butterflies that spread throughout you entire being -you really loved this man.

Zhongli will either wake up really early, or sleep in with you.

I feel like he would have a set morning routine that he had perfected over the centuries and would follow religiously. “I will have order!”

Mornings with Zhongli are typically peaceful, with the two of you either getting ready for the day’s work ahead or cuddling in bed.

Occasionally, you’d wake up to breakfast in bed whenever he managed to get out before you noticed.

On weekends the two of you would spend more time together in the comfort of your bed, simply relishing the presence of each other. Weekdays, on the other hand, are a little less tranquil although still quite calm.

—————

“Good morning.” You smiled, watching as he peeled his eyes open to reveal a pair of bronze, sleep-dazed orbes.

“Morning, Love.” He responded.

For the next couple of moments the two of you laid beside each other in complete silence -just looking into each other’s eyes and silently sending out words of gratitude for being able to be with each other.

You slightly shifted your position and breathed out a lighthearted chuckled, earning a curious stare from your lover.

“I’m grateful, to be able to wake up beside you every morning and see your lovely smile -I’m truly the luckiest person in the world.”

Zhongli gazed at you with a look as equally loving as yours and pulled you in for a sweet, chaste kiss that, although fleeting, told you of all the words and feelings of endearment that he held within -solely for you.

Zhongli was brilliant when it came to describing himself and his emotions -this was a fact that none could deny, but whenever you came along, it felt as if all the words in the world could never be enough to describe the love he held for you.

“I managed to save quite a bit of Mora this month, so how about we go out for breakfast, it’s been a while, hasn’t it?”

[thepalebutterfly]

I Love You So 3

Diluc Dialogue Drabble

about: the neglected, sickly wife trope in a contract marriage with a man that doesn't quite know how to show his love

inspired by: I Love You So - The Walters 🎵 (listen to it!!)

notes: I'm sorry for the week-long wait, I'm writing in the middle of my finals so it's been exhausting! this was such a hard chapter to write for, I scrapped and built it a lot so I hope the final product lives up to your expectations! we'll be ending soon so happy reading!!

one | two | three | four | masterlist

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"Pardon? You're saying I'm at fault?" Kaeya laughs dryly, placing down his wine glass with a clink on the bar top. It's silent in the tavern, drunk patrons steadily starting to wobble out into the night.

"You very well know her condition. She shouldn't have gone out that day." Diluc turns his back from the cryo user, opting to wipe the empty tables. "Just when she was starting to feel better."

"Her getting sick again isn't something new, you know? It seems to me like you're keeping Y/N caged."

"It's for her health. You know that."

"Well someone has to keep her company."

Diluc turns around to face the cryo user who stayed seated on the bar. The Cavalry Captain smiles at him over his wine glass, finally having caught his attention.

"After all, you and I both know how lonely that old manor can be." Kaeya really shouldn't be meddling in your relationship just when you scolded him last time for it, but forgive him for caring too much for the two of you.

When the redhead doesn't reply, seemingly done with the conversation, Kaeya sighs and takes another sip of wine before talking.

"Just to be clear, she invited me and I simply went along."

Diluc grumbles under his breath, "I suppose it was too much of me to expect any sense of caution from you. You're putting my wife at risk for some what— Death After Noon that she can't even drink." The harshness in his voice would have intimidated anyone, but Kaeya simply leans back with a chuckle.

"Oh? Your wife?" A sly smirk crosses his face, "Ah yes, I suppose she is. Forgive me, dear brother, I've almost forgotten with how little I see her with you — And we met over coffee, if that makes things any better." The redhead looks up from the table he's wiping, clearly irritated with how the conversation was going.

Why can't Kaeya understand how fragile your constitution is? Diluc already lost his father, does Kaeya want him to lose his wife as well– no, clear thoughts. Kaeya is a lot of things, but he's not that. Diluc takes a deep breath, rubbing the skin between his eyes just to calm down.

It was Diluc's decision to have a wedding rather than just signing a contract. While he was elated over the upcoming event, handling all preparations when you allowed him to, he noticed the indifference in your eyes – frowning at every encrusted noctilucous jade and diamond of your gown and bundle of glaze lilies and qingxin decorating the venue. It seems to him that for you, a grand wedding was useless if the groom wasn't who you wanted in the first place.

"This is too much," Were one of the first words you told him since the reception started.

Perhaps it was too much, but the image of you under a white veil enchanted him so that he believed it was worth it – a selfish pleasure so short-lived at the cost of your health.

He remembers the day of your marriage; what was supposed to be the happiest day of a couple's life was ended by your bedside, holding a bucket and towels; maids rushing in and out as you emptied your stomach the sixth time that evening. The exhaustion of having spent the day celebrating – a rather mundane and formal gathering, in anyone's opinion – had finally took its toll on you.

When the doctors couldn't help, he brought in healers to ease the pain, eventually resorting to buying a powerful sleep medication from a green haired pharmacist all the way from Liyue.

Even in your sleep, you shivered violently in cold sweat. Dulled hair and pale skin, weak and incapable, you blended in with the gloom of the manor. He slipped himself in your bed that night, arms wrapped around you to pull you close, pyro vision lightly blazing, warming you; Diluc was never very religious, but his lips sobbed quiet prayers to any archon that would spare a glance and save you.

He learned his lesson. His selfishness had caused this.

That was the first and only night you had shared a bed together.

Diluc sighs.

"The Fatui were spotted south of Springvale, out of their diplomatic jurisdiction. Shouldn't the knights deal with that?"

Kaeya groans, exasperated, "Is business the only thing occupying your mind, dear brother? Just when I thought our conversation was bearing good fruit." He sighs, "Besides, I'm sure the darknight hero has dealt with it already."

"Contrary to your belief, it was miss Lumine. You ought to be glad she's making up for the incompetence of the knights even in the dead of the night."

"Ah yes, the famous miss Lumine," Kaeya swirls the wine in his glass, chilling the little that's left with a cold tips of his fingers, "A little surprising she caught wind of the situation before you did."

"It was more of a coincidence she got caught in on her way to the winery."

Kaeya freezes, eyes boring into his brother's back who was casually arranging the chairs. He puts down his wine glass.

"Miss Lumine... went to the winery last night?"

"Yes."

"And did Y/N say anything?" Diluc stares back at him, the lack of teasing in Kaeya's tone making it difficult to understand his intentions.

"She didn't say anything. They didn't even meet."

• • •

"Shouldn't I greet lady Y/n? I wouldn't want to suddenly intrude-"

"It's alright. You must be tired; It's late and Y/n should be asleep by now."

'Archons,' You choke, hand held over your lips to keep yourself from making a sound. As Diluc said; it was late and you really should have been in bed, not at a little corner of the salon, preparing a hot cup of tea for two.

He told you not to wait for him anymore. You should have listened.

You peeked from your corner, unable to resist the curiosity of your husband bringing home his- his... whatever she is to him — at the dead of the night. Diluc stood facing away from you, whereas the other... Golden eyes meet E/C ones as Lumine offered a knowing smile. Your heart stops; was she taunting you? Was this a greeting?

She looks away from you, long lashes blinking at the redhead. You hold your breath as you see the way her nimble fingers wrap around his wrist, soft blonde hair cascading over her shoulders as she pulls him away. She is bright and beautiful, capable and strong, even in the dead of the night she contrasted everything from the dark wood of the manor to Diluc's dark coat on her shoulders.

Even after they left for the guest room, you still held your breath.

• • •

"Unbelievable." Kaeya laughs, finally standing up to march towards the redhead. Diluc raises an eyebrow at him. "You are unbelievable."

"Excuse me?"

"You! Diluc Ragnvindr. I'm sure you're no stranger to rumors, do you know what the whole of Mond has been whispering about?"

"I'm not concerned about my reputation-"

"It's not about reputation!" Kaeya seethes, an emotion unfamiliar to Diluc since their separation.

"... If this is about miss Lumine then I'm sure you of all people would know that our relationship is strictly-"

"Oh but does Y/N know that?" He laughs, hands waving around, trying to suppress the cold air emitting dangerously from his vision.

Diluc stays quiet. Cold, red hues staring into a steely grey one.

"You are aware that... our marriage is simply a contract."

The tension thickens, cold fog seeps from the floor surrounding the cryo user before quickly dispersing away. Kaeya takes a step back, shoulders easing and face contorting to a look of disappointment. How stupid, he thinks, She loves you.

Kaeya could have said that out loud; he could force Diluc to understand how foolish and insecure you both were. He wanted to help. He really did – but as he thinks of your lonesome figure in the large manor he once called home, how you come to him of all people for company...

He could treat you so much better. After all, the age-old contract asked for a Ragnvindr son. It was in his hands first before a lovesick fool wanted it.

"... Fine. You know what, that doesn't sound too bad at all," Kaeya muses.

"What?"

"Keep acting like that and it won't be long before I have her all to myself."

"... what did you just say?" There's a dangerous look in his red eyes, hands slowly curling to a fist.

"I said I'll have her-"

"You did not just say that." He grits his teeth, eyes wide in a mixture of shock and vexation.

"Oh? Are you worried?" A sly smirk spreads on the cryo user's face, "You said so yourself. It's just a contract marriage. Why would you care if she's in the arms of some other-"

Something behind him shatters. The sound cuts between them like a knife. Kaeya quickly looks at the wine glass he was previously holding, dark flames blazing from the bits and pieces of glass, scarring the wood of the bar top permanently.

"I think we're done here." Diluc states, looking down on the table with knuckles turning white as he clenches a dirt rag.

Where did things go wrong?

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a big thanks to @abvolat for inspiring reader getting worse, @pansexualkeoni for inspiring lumine's impromptu visit, and ANON for suggesting Diluc getting angry at Kaeya, which brings him back to our narrative! (ANON REVEAL PLEASE?)

taglist: please message me if you don't want to be tagged, a few of the asks were lost so I've been basing off the previous comment sections. also, i know i posted saying ill upload this in an hour but to think there were so many to tag- im shook hahahah i hope i didnt miss anyone

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