#your dwarfs are poisoned
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Sea Cryptic! Danny AU- Pt.4
[Pt.1] [Pt.2] [Pt.3][Pt.5][Pt.6][Pt.7]
Danny was sitting in the back, his backpack obnoxiously taking up the seat next to him, when the door to the lecture hall creaked open near silently.
“What are you in here for?” Danny asked the guy who crept into class. He sympathetically took his backpack off the Seat of Shame and allowed the guy to sit down. Funnily enough, they had the same hair and eye color.
“Gen Ed. Undecided. You?” The guy grunted quietly back.
“Environmental studies. I’m Danny.”
“Tim.”
With the implicit understanding of two people in a required class they could not give less than two fucks about, Tim and Danny tuned back into the lecture. When the class was assigned group work, Danny looked over to see Tim softly snoring, head slammed down on the table.
“Tim. Wake up, dude.” Danny poked his shoulder.
“Huh? Class over?”
“Nah, we got group work. Discussion board.”
“Oh shit, thanks for waking me up. Wanna team up?”
Danny shrugged. “Sure. We should aim to post it in the middle so the professor doesn’t read our answers to the class.”
“Yeah, sounds like a good idea. Any idea what we’re talking about?”
“Kind of?”
“Good enough for me.”
——
Tim Drake kept seeing Danny Fenton around on campus.
“Danny! Dude, what are you doing?”
Danny turned, gloved hands full of crumpled trash. “Picking up after the student population, apparently.”
“Didn’t think environmental studies was that serious.”
“Global warming is very serious, you jerk,” Danny smirked at him, crossing the grass to put the trash into the trash can. “Reduce, reuse, oil shouldn’t be spilled in water and all that.”
“Basic stuff,” Tim grinned. Nice, he basically had a friend past Bernard now!
They were friends, right?
“And yet humanity fails to comprehend it. Incredible. Incredibly stupid that is.”
“They get it. Major corporations just don’t care.”
Danny sighed. “True that. You on your way to your next class?” He took off his biodegradable gloves off (nitrile and nylon, baby!) and chucked them into the trash.
“I’ve got free time, actually. Prof cancelled for his daughter’s surgery.”
“Oh, shit, that’s rough! You wanna go downtown and join the strike?”
“A strike? What for?” Even as he asked, Tim hiked his bag higher onto his shoulder, ready to go. They fell into step as the two left campus.
“Apparently, Quillan Pharma was doing some shady shit at their manufacturing plants. I think it’s like killing kids, and pouring toxins into the ground.”
“Oh, shit.”
“Yeah. Oh! Poison Ivy’s gonna be there!”
Tim blinked. He casted a sideways look at Danny. Sure he’s been here long enough to know… but it couldn’t hurt to check. “You know she’s an eco-terrorist, right?”
“Okay, but like… people suck sometimes. And all she’s asking for is like don’t kill the planet. And she doesn’t do that whole mind control thing too much anymore! The Sirens are so cool. Plus, one of my best friends at home might actually kill me if I don’t try to get her autograph. Poison Ivy is like, Sam’s personal hero.”
Tim snickered. “Yeah, okay. Mind if one of my friends join? His name’s Bernard.”
“The more the merrier,” Danny nodded. “Ooo! Hot chocolate. Want some?”
Danny bought three drinks as Tim trailed behind, texting Bernard.
“He said yes.”
“Cool! We should meet up somewhere before the drinks get cold.”
Well, Danny got the autograph. Tim got a new friend, and Bernard got a drink from his crush.
——
“Oh, you’re the glowing dude that Batman always talks about!”
Danny blinked, eyes scanning the wing-like cape and the yellow emblem on the hero’s suit. Danny was indeed glowing, stars and nebulas freckling across neon green skin, and glowing hair the color of a white dwarf star, tinged with the blue from his ice core.
“I… have absolutely no idea who you are,” Danny lied, like a liar. He’s found a surprising niche of entertainment in messing with the local vigilantes and he’ll be damned if he missed this opportunity.
He heard a snicker from the comm lines as Red Robin visibly brushes it off.
“I’m Red Robin. Why are you picking up trash?”
“Picking up after you humans, apparently.”
The both of them blink, feeling a weird sense of déjà vu. A moment of awkward silence passed before they both shook it off.
“Are you here to help? No offense, but the track record for you people is terrible.” Danny strode over and grabbed a bag. He opened it, and shook it at Red Robin’s face. “See? Batarangs, these odd bird looking ones, the R’s. Seriously, pick up after yourselves!”
“Oh, woah, can we have these back?”
Danny yanked the bag back before Red Robin could get close. “Pay me. These were incredibly tedious to pick up. Especially the batarangs. I mean, I even found a whole bunch of old rusted ones in the middle of the bay. What did you do, dump an entire bag in there from the air?”
Red Robin sighed and took out a wad of cash, with tracking fluid all over it. Danny grimaced, smelling the odd scent on the money. “That’s not real cash. It smells off. Are you trying to give me counterfeits because you’re broke?”
Red Robin gaped, oddly offended. “No! They’re real!”
“Doesn’t smell like it. It’s stinkier than the trash. Go get the one with the money, the litterer. Tell him I’ll be back the next full moon. I don’t want to talk to you anymore.” Danny grumbled, disappearing on the spot to watch Red Robin flounder with the stack of cash and the piles of dead bodies on the shore.
“What the fuck even is my life these days?” Red Robin wondered out loud, stuffing the cash back into his pocket. He looked over the plastic wrapped bodies and slumped, sighing.
Oddly enough, Danny felt a sense of sympathy. Well, he’s not getting paid for sympathy. He’s not getting paid at all tonight, actually. Danny flew off, plunging once more into the depths of the significantly cleaner waters, and used his ice to scoop out oil stains.
Danny glanced around and sighed. He had a lot of work to do.
——
“So you’re saying he’s like a werewolf mermaid fae child immortal god thing, right?”
Bruce grunted.
“B, what the hell are you smoking these days? You know drugs are bad, right? Do we need Superman to give you that PSA?” Jason snickered.
Tim, massaging his arms from having to haul an ungodly amount of dead bodies, grunted. He’s so similar to Bruce that it gave the people currently in the cave hives.
“He said full moon. I don’t think we can track him with regular stuff. The bugs kept shorting out.”
“Oh boy,” Dick sighed. “Don’t fall off the spiral cliff, Tim. You’ve got midterms to think about so no stalking the guy.”
“Yet,” Tim shot back, changing out of his suit.
Bruce grunted, setting aside a huge stack of cash.
#let Tim Drake go to college you cowards#he got his GED in this one boys#let Tim fucking age#danny phantom#batman#tim drake#dc x dp#dcxdp#dpxdc#danny the tired college student#bamf danny phantom#siren au???#sea cryptic Danny#bro I had war flashbacks to discussion board group work#terrible why do I do this to myself#the batarangs in the middle of the bay was from when Bruce tried to kill the joker and himself#Danny: people just can’t clean up after themselves these days#sea cryptic! danny au
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house arrest 3
afab!mc x beelzebub
description: NSFW, you are confined to your room for your own protection. But how long will that last when the only thing standing between you and your housemates is a door and some willpower? Would Beel pass the marshmallow test?
warnings: Capital B breeding kink with talks of impregnation, babies, afab reader with she/her pronouns. Talk of emotional eating. Dubcon warning!!! This one turned out sounding kind of sketch in places, but actions depicted are intended to be consensual. Size kink.
Note: reader is described as being shorter and smaller than Beel, but I tried not to go into specifics. so just scale Beel in your mind to however big he'd have to be to be significantly larger than you.
|| Intro || Mammon || Asmo (mini) || Levi || Satan (mini) || Beel || Lucifer (mini) || Asmo || Belphie (mini) || Belphie || Barbatos (mini) ||
For the past few days, Beezlebub had been eating his feelings.
He was a menace in the kitchen, he could admit it. Since breakfast three days ago, no meals were able to be prepared to completion without interference from the sixth-born. Occasionally, one of his brothers would try to separate him from the fridge where he had set up camp, but each attempt only served to make him more irritable and territorial, less like himself. It soon became clear that their efforts were not worth the struggle and creative measures were implemented to allow for some form of cookery.
Belphagor hovered as much as his fatigue would permit, worried for his twin. Left unspoken for the sake of Beel's dignity, Belphie understood intrinsically the depth of the hunger you had unlocked in his brother. It was a terrifying force to be reckoned with, one that could very easily boil over into something disastrous.
At this late hour, Beel was alone, Belphie having retreated to the attic for yet another nap. Four puddings pushed down the memory of your scent for the nth time. Twelve poisoned apples for how his hands dwarfed your tiny shoulders. A couple boxes of leftover takeout to smother your big doe eyes looking up at him before the first shove kicked off a regretful fight between his brothers.
Guilt weighed like an albatross around Beel's neck. He loved his family- you were included in that. You rounded out their group in a way that felt complete. Beel wasn't always the most articulate demon, but his feelings were genuine and acute; sometimes overwhelmingly so.
"Oh, hey."
He felt sick.
Beel twisted to see you over his shoulder, refrigerator door still halfway open. You were standing in the kitchen doorway, looking unsure, picking your fingernails. You looked so small.
"I was going to get something to drink," You said, as if you needed an excuse to be there.
He smiled at you and hoped it was reassuring, "I think there's some juice left."
"Thanks, that'll work," You returned the grin, relieved he broke the tension first. He sat the carton on the counter and stepped aside.
See? You could both be normal about this.
“I feel like it’s been forever since I’ve seen you,” You mused, getting yourself a glass from the cupboard, “I’m going stir-crazy in there.”
Beel leaned against an opposite counter, “How much longer are you locked down for?”
“Ugh, I don’t know, two or three more days, maybe?” You mirrored him from across the room, “I hope Lucifer doesn’t think I’m doing this every month. Absolutely not.”
Every month.
This was going to happen every month? Indefinitely? He felt light-headed. How was he supposed to contend with this on a regular basis? A month was nothing.
“You okay?” You asked, shaking Beel from his thoughts.
“Yeah,” He replied, “Are you at least eating enough?”
“No complaints there,” You shrugged, sipping your drink, “Anyway, I should head back.”
The words came out reflexively the moment your back was turned: “I missed you.”
“I missed you, too,” You beamed back at him, stopping in your tracks. You were so pretty when you smiled. He felt his heart speed up.
“Can I walk you back?” He asked, knowing very well he shouldn't, but not ready to say goodbye just yet.
You hesitated for only a moment, "Yeah, I'd like that."
___
Trying to keep pace with you was always a little awkward, given your much shorter stride. Beel was used to waiting up for others after a few millennia of adapting to Belphie's slothful movements. Still, the urge to scoop you up and carry you with him tugged at his fraying nerves. Would you mind? You'd let him do it before…
Even if you did mind, it'd be easy, he thought, to simply hook an arm around your waist and lift you like a fangol ball. You could wiggle and fight as much as you wanted, but realistically, you were physically no match for the most average of demons, let alone one such as himself. Especially if caught by surprise, with no time for magic (or pact orders) to level the playing field. Despite all of your time spent in the Devildom, your trusting nature left you wide open to any number of those with ill intent. It was like you refused to understand that humans were prey.
Which is why you needed to be here, with him them, Beel reminded himself. To keep you safe. Because, right now, you were all but screaming to be devoured.
Sweat dotted his brow. Maybe going with you was a mistake. Without a constant stream of food to distract himself, his thoughts were drifting to dark and unfamiliar territory. Even tucked under his arm, were you really safe? He swallowed the rapidly pooling spit in his mouth, chewing on the discomforting idea.
"Well, this is my stop," You said, breaking the uneasy silence that had formed between you. Your hand hovered on the doorknob, but neither of you moved. He was certain you could read the distress all over his face. You were good at that sort of thing.
"Do you want to talk about it?" You asked gently, twisting the handle.
"I don't know," He replied, honest as ever, "I want to spend more time with you, but I'm worried."
"That you'll hurt me?"
He nodded, "Or worse."
You seemed to consider his words carefully. You studied his expression, though what you were searching for was unclear. Finally, you shrugged as if it were the most obvious answer in the world.
"I'm not worried," You said, pushing open your bedroom door, "I trust you."
___
Beel loved his family. He loved you.
But he could stand for there to be more of you.
It was his single-minded focus, and had been since… since however long it had been that you'd allowed him into your room, he supposed.
You entered first. You showed your back to him and he went after you, blinded by instinct. Time was fuzzy after that. Later, Beel would go through and make sense of things. Right now, with your cunt squeezing him so deliciously, the only semi-coherent thought in his head was breeding you over and over and over again.
"More, one more," He slurred almost apologetically. If he could feel the satisfaction of cumming deep inside your tight little body just one more time, then he would be sated. Maybe. Probably.
You were like jelly, eyes rolled back, reduced to wordless noises while he bounced you on his cock. Your arms hung loose around his neck, legs locked around his waist. Dark marks bloomed across your skin, purple bruises in the shape of hands and teeth despite his best efforts to keep your trust. It took everything he had not to break your soft, salty skin when he tasted you. He mouthed at whatever exposed flesh he could reach, desires and intentions blurring hopelessly together into a confusing mess.
You fell against him with a pathetic cry as another orgasm was pulled from your poor, overstimulated body. You were trembling uncontrollably. He curled protectively around you, kissing your sweat-slicked temple and murmuring sweet praise that bubbled up through his mental haze. You were taking him so well, please, just one more for him, please, one more so he could make absolutely sure you wound up carrying his babies- and why stop at one? You were going to be gorgeous pregnant, working so hard to make their family even bigger, giving him even more people to love. Fuck– he couldn't get enough of you.
He felt a tightening in his core that signaled he was close. He held you in place, bottoming out when he bucked up into you. Stretched obscenely full, your walls pulsed around him, milking his cock for all he could give. You groaned something that sounded like his name muffled into his chest, your desperate keening triggering his own release. His previously rhythmic grunting built into a low growl as he pumped thick ropes of cum deep into your already stuffed cunt. Beel let out a small whine feeling some of his seed dripping out around him. It wasn't fair. It all belonged to you.
A brief moment of clarity washed over him in the wake. He knew you were tired- exhausted, actually, judging by your adorable fucked-out expression. That was okay, he could help. He'd get you cleaned up and into fresh pajamas before taking you upstairs to rest together in his bed.
Consequences be damned, he was going to keep you close. He knew Belphie wouldn't mind. Besides, what if he needed more later?
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Chekhov Reads Dungeon Meshi: CH50
This has huge 'rocks fall, everyone dies' from the DM energy.
Or maybe you stepped through the mushroom DNA-shuffler circle last chapter and now your stomach is trying to digest you from the inside out.
Oh gods. He's a dwarf. They got freaky Friday'd.
............I have no comments for this. I don't know what to say.
You know. I've seen this panel many times. But for some reason I thought this was like, an omake or a side chapter.
Unless this IS a side chapter? Is it all a dream??? This IS chapter 50, right?
....yeah, Chil? You don't seem thrilled.
LMAO. The cover redraw!
And apparently Izutsumi kept her long tail.
Elf!Senshi just having magical wind in his hair the whole time is high key hilarious. Where is the breeze coming from? Maybe he's born with it.
Also, are those giant spools...?
Ahhh, right, Halflings are known for being more sensitive than the other humans.
I'm just happy he finally got his, and got to pet Marcille and Laios on the head. :)
"The ground is so far away! It's scary!" LMAO. That's real.
Laios as a Kobold. Finally, he could achieve maximum fursona.
.....ah, well--..... yeah.
Hey, it's the door!
Arriving to really important places under really silly circumstances - that's two for two. (I'm specifically talking about the frog costumes but there may be others)
...isn't this door like. Super rare? Very difficult to find?
And you're telling me some other randos have already been here and didn't even clean up?
Laios, I love you, but Chillchuck JUST told you there was no remedy that he was aware of aside from just like, forms of torture.
You're not thinking this one through, buddy.
He was hibernating.....
But actually - they DID call for the winged lion's aid, right?
GASP
What if.... Kensuke.... IS the lion!
AH SHIT. If she's a halfling, then that means she's bad with magic, right? They have low tolerance to the feedback magic gives or something? I don't remember the details now but...
Wuh-oh. (I don't think that's how agitation works in any species, but sure. For the drama.)
Why is he the only one who suffered a severe personality change...?
Apex predators need their naps.......
Sacrifices have to be made, Toshiro.
Izutsumi Got. That. Ball. Bell.
......Mechanus?
Where DID you get that from? You had one food poisoning scare, that doesn't mean it's not real!
I wish I could feel this level of peace while cooking.
Ah so.... this is not a place of honor?
It sounds like there's two cultures that got REALLY into the space race, turned a cold war into a hot one, and are now going "well, we can't have nice things because of.... us. because of us. but you all still can't have nice things!"
That might be.... a terrible idea.
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— In the Fields of Poppy | Thranduil *✧･ﾟ
▹ Pairing: Thranduil x Elf!Reader
▹ Genre: Fluff and Angst (mentions of death and the aftermath of war)
▹ Words: ~2k
▹ Summary: In the aftermath of the Battle of the Five Armies, you have a chance encounter with the King.
▹ Notes: This is unedited because we die as men! Also because I'm sleep deprived rn. Let me know what you thought!
✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ
The carnage had been terrible; the aftermath of the battle more brutal than any recount would ever fully capture.
Broken stained glass mosaics formed with blood from all sides of the battle glistened in the sun. There was a heavy fog that clung to the ground, the wails of survivors finding the corpses of their loved ones. You couldn’t focus on it, blocking out as much of the noise as possible. Later you would feel the weight of the lives lost, you were certain, but for now, there was work to be done.
You kneeled before the squirming body of a dwarven soldier, too delirious off his own pain to scorn the healing of an elvish maid. There was a cut on his leg that was bleeding profusely, his skin showing the beginning signs of infection from the poison the orcs used. He was muttering in Khuzdul, his eyes staring blankly at the sky. His eyes were locked on the sun, and if there weren’t other grievous injuries taking priority, you would’ve reminded him to not stare at the sun. But who cares for blindness if you’re already dead?
With ghost-like touches and careful concentration, you placed the healing salve on his leg, cleaning the wound as best you could beforehand. He hissed in pain from the contact, his eyes no longer looking at the sun but at you. He continued to speak in Khuzdul, this time at you, with spite and pain written on his face. You weren’t concerned, continuing to work as you numbed yourself to your surroundings.
A group of elven soldiers marched past you, carrying the body of their fallen comrade, faces stricken with grief. Your eyes darted away from the sight and returned your attention to carefully wrapping your patient’s leg with bandages.
“I don’t have anything for the pain, I’m afraid,” you said to him, briefly meeting his eyes that went back to looking at the sun. He muttered incoherently, and while he spoke Common this time, his words were lost on you.
Tying the final bandage, you then began the same work on the rest of his wounds. More wails and more dead bodies carried from the battlefield, but you blocked it all out. There was no time to be swallowed in the suffering. Once all his wounds had been tended to and your dress was drenched in the blood of another patient, you stood from the ground. A dwarven soldier rushed forward to bring his comrade to the tents where the injured were resting. Words of thanks fell from his mouth, but you had already turned away, moving towards the next person.
This time it was an elf, so young he couldn’t be more than a century old. Old enough to serve in the guard but too young to die; it made you sick to your stomach. There was a gash near his neck, the veins around it turning black. The poison had already gotten into his system; it was only a matter of time before it took him. Yet you kneeled beside him and gently placed his head in your lap as you began cleaning the wound.
Unlike the dwarf from before, his eyes met yours, a grin on his lips. It looked out of place on his face, contorted into pain. He spoke softly in elvish, reciting an old song that mothers usually sang to their children when putting them to bed. As the cold salve touched his neck, he froze up, twitching slightly at the sensation.
Silence enveloped the two of you, he no longer sang, yet his eyes stayed on you. A stray piece of hair had fallen from your messy braid, the elf reaching up and grabbing it. He held it between his fingers, mouth parted and eyes a thousand miles away.
“Naneth--” he trailed off, muttering more incoherent words. You swallowed thickly, forcing yourself to continue working as a spark of pain reactivated your cold heart. He called you mother; the poison must’ve already reached his head, making him see things that weren’t there.
Tears pricked in the corners of your eyes as you looked away to reach into your healer’s kit. He must’ve been so terrified as death came closer, seeking comfort in a mother that wasn’t even here. You didn’t have the heart to correct him. Let the boy have a small bit of comfort.
With a strip of bandage in your hand, when your eyes went back to his body, his eyes were shut, and his breathing ceased. Dead.
Your hand fell limp at your side, eyes unmoving from his face. He looked at peace, expression no longer twisted in pain. A shuttered breath escaped your mouth, the chill in the air allowing you to see it blow away. You stood with shaky legs and trembling hands, two soldiers approaching to take his body away.
You’d been a healer for as long as you could remember, training for this since you were a little elfling running wild. Time allowed you to become numb to tragedy, keeping a clear head to do what needed to be done. But the elven boy’s death managed to stab a needle right through your heart. He was so young and vibrant, his potential severed by senseless war. It left a bitter taste in your mouth, like the ashes of the bodies the humans were burning.
The mud squashed beneath your feet, eyes unseeing. You were a ghost on the battlefield, blood-stained dress blowing in the wind. How did the other healers seem so emotionless? Was the bite of death something that lessened the more you were near it? In a few years, would you have a disposition that was nearly mechanical? A part of you hoped for that release, while the other part of you was terrified by it.
You turned, eyes meeting the misty blues ones of King Thranduil. He stood a few feet away from you, a vision amongst the dead. Tall and noble, he looked every bit the king he was. Golden like the dawn, his hair was loose and messy, and his previously pristine armor was dirty with mud and blood, cuts and minor wounds marring his body. Yet he looked eerily perfect.
His stare was heavy, yet you refused to be the one to look away. A hint of a smirk appeared on the edges of his lips as his head tilted to the side. Long and sure strides brought him closer to you while you stayed locked in place. The king stood before you, towering over your smaller form. You may have been on the taller side; he made you feel as though you were a hobbit.
“What is your name?”
You lowered your head in a half-bow, a pathetic attempt to show respect, not entirely accustomed to the presence of royalty.
“Y/N, my king.”
He nodded, mouthing your name as if to commit it to memory.
“Do you live in Eryn Galen? I have never seen you.”
“I grew up in Lothlorien, where I spent most of my life before training to be a healer in Imladris. I have only recently moved to Eryn Galen.”
Thranduil raised his eyebrows and clasped his hands behind his back.
“How lucky we are to have a student of Lord Elrond among us.” You could discern if his words were patronizing or genuine, his tone not betraying his intentions.
“I did not train under Lord Elrond personally.” You felt the need to correct him, not wanting him to think you of a higher station than you were.
“But your teachers were overseen by him, were they not?”
You nodded.
“Then you were trained by Lord Elrond, even if he himself didn’t oversee your education.”
A small smile appeared on your lips, and you nodded. “I have no choice but to agree; who would I be to disagree with a king.”
A coy smile pulled on the edges of his lips as his eyes shone.
“A foolish woman is who you would be. Walk with me?” It was phrased as a question, but he didn’t wait for your answer. His long strides carried him towards camp, and you had no choice but to follow.
“Tell me, do you plan on staying in Eryn Galen long?” His voice was crisp but quiet enough that only you could hear them.
“I do. I have grown fond of the people and its forest.” You spoke genuinely and truthfully. The wood elves were reclusive and suspicious, but once you broke through those barriers, they were full of merriment and loyalty. You cherished the relationships you had already formed and were eager for more.
“Even in its sickly state,” his tone was sardonic but not enough to hide the pain in his voice. How terrible it must’ve been to see his home twisted into something so evil while powerless to stop it.
“I believe there is still hope for it to be returned to health.”
Thranduil stopped in his tracks, eyes meeting yours. You stopped as well, patiently waiting for what he may say next. His expression was unreadable, eyes searching yours for the answers to questions you didn’t know.
Wherever he was searching for, it sent shivers down your spine and made goosebumps form on your arms. The moonlight was kind to him, bathing him in a silvery light that made him look like the elves of Lothlorien who always seemed to shine. You felt your heart stutter as butterflies formed in your stomach.
It could’ve been a trick of the light, but you could’ve sworn there was a hint of affection in his bright eyes. After the death of his wife, rumors spread of his cold demeanor and harshen disposition. But now, before you, none of those adjectives seemed suited for him. As soft as the stars and as beautiful as the moon, how could he be anything but good and kind?
“I hope that you are right.” He finally broke the silence, eyes raising to the sky before he continued walking, and just as before, you matched his strides. Neither of you spoke, relishing in the silence after a terrible day full of death and terror.
Finally, the both of you stopped in front of the tent that was yours.
“It was good to meet you today, Y/N. I hope to see you again; I find your company pleasant and your conversation enjoyable.”
A red flush made your face warm, and a child-like grin appeared on your lips. As light as a feather, you would’ve floated away had the king not grabbed your hand, delicately placing a kiss on your knuckles.
When he released your hand, you lowered into a half curtsey, the movement not as fluid due to your dress that was stiff from the dried blood covering it.
“It was an honor to speak with you, my king. I wish you a good rest tonight.”
He smirked in a way that made your flush deepen.
“And if I find it difficult to find rest, will you brew me a tea to lull me to sleep.”
“Herbology happens to be my specialty.”
Thranduil gave a single, firm nod, yet his eyes never moved from yours. The affection you’d seen before was brighter, easier seen in the dim lighting. And you were certain your eyes portrayed the same attraction. Could this be the beginning of something wonderful?
“Then I shall know who to call upon in my hour of need.” He lowered into a full bow, his cloak billowing around him. You took a step back, a bout of giggle escaping your mouth. Who would’ve thought the stern king had a sense of humor?
“Farewell, my lady.”
He then swept off further into the camp, and you stayed in your spot, watching his form disappear, only moving once you could no longer see him. You turned and entered your tent, hand placed upon your flushed cheek. As you readied yourself for bed, the encounter with Thranduil replayed in your mind. And suddenly, you found yourself dancing alone, unable to push back your excitement.
And as you lay in bed and shut your eyes, you desperately hoped this would only be the beginning and not where the story would end.
✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ
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Tell your friends (Ive Yujin & Wonyoung)
—————
Thank you @capslocked for the input/advice <3
—————
“What do you think?” asks Yujin, casually, as you’re both walking up the long, winding stairs. A scenario you’re familiar with, but this is completely different from before.
“Of this place?” Your eyes wander around, scope out the surroundings like you’re evaluating real estate. “Eh, it’s fine—I mean, I’ve already been to your place and it’s really nice.”
“First time I’ve heard anyone call this place just fine.” Completely surprised at your reply, her eyes go wide, along with her jaw, as if you’ve said something taboo. “This place is no joke, it makes mine look like an average joe—just like you!”
“Hey.” Offended by her personal taunt, you counter, “At least I’m content with what I have instead of pouring needless amounts of money for this narcissistic shit.”
She simply laughs off your retort. You’re not even trying. Part of the game is you actually playing along. “Gotta keep the image up, after all.”
“What image? That you’re slutting out every night for a ‘random nobody’ off the street?”
“If I wanted a random nobody off the street, I could have at least gotten someone with a bigger cock,” says Yujin, trying to get under your skin. This kind of banter should render you poisoned with all the toxicity, but you’re almost numb to it at this point. Her words hit hard, because she’s speaking the truth. Anyone else could be in your position right now, and you’re luckier than 99.9% of the people on this planet, because she’s still An Yujin—variety queen, fashion icon, and pop star—after all. “Or maybe someone who’s willing to rip through my clothes when I tell them to—”
“Yeah, I get it. You get new clothes that you’ll use for a week, only to stash them away in the storage.” Might as well put on those imaginary headphones to drown out the noise, but you’ve heard it so many times, your ears simply block out her voice. “You’re rich and famous; I’m a nobody. We get it.”
She shoots you a devilish smirk, complemented by a wink before going ahead. Her flawless body and model strut serve as the perfect hall pass; you're willing to give every excuse and exemption just to be with her in bed when it’s all said and done.
The huge front doors swing open automatically. The living room alone dwarfs your entire house and makes Yujin’s look miniature in comparison. Collective chatter fills the atmosphere as guests convene everywhere. Not a single space remains unoccupied with at least two people engaged in conversation over drinks.
Like the visitors at your girlfriend’s party, you have no idea who these people are or what their intentions are. Some of them turn their heads, stare at your direction and greet you hello. They’re not actually meant for you, but for the woman right beside you. To your dismay, she remembers how awkward you are at large gatherings and takes advantage of it. Bumping shoulders, she encourages you to wave back at them. Not the name you want to make for yourself.
So you sneak away from her and escape into the crowd. Passing through different rooms, you eventually run into a familiar face in the entertainment room. The person turns around, meets your gaze in dramatic fashion, and her excitement immediately rises to dangerous levels.
“Hey! Oh! Were you invited too?” asks the girl, enthusiastically, running toward you.
You vividly recognize her cute face—and her Japanese accent. She was the girl who almost uncovered you twice in a single night.
“Oh God—” You grumble, bothered, silently praying your whisper drowns in the sea of loud gossip. “Oh—hi, Rei.”
“You must really be someone special to be invited to Mistress Jang’s party.” Rei suddenly pulls you by the shoulder to whisper something secretive in your ear, closing any opportunity to escape. “You know this is a blue card invitation, right? Only those deep in her social circle can come here, and her private circle is really, really small. Just so you know, there’s an industry rumor going around that the son of a government official offered millions in a bid to woo her, and she turned him down.”
“O-oh, that’s—cool.”
Respectfully, what you wanted to say was that you had no interest in the so-called Mistress Jang, or the corrupt children of the officials running the nation with puppet strings. You were only there at Yujin’s insistence, and nothing else. “Surely he must be fuming that Jang—”
“Shhhh.” Rei puts a finger between your lips to quiet you down. She briefly looks left and right, scanning everything and everyone around you. “We call her Mistress Jang, Miss Jang, or Miss Vicky Jang. The title is very important here.”
“What?” For a moment, you thought you had stepped inside the palace of some ancient dynasty, the way titles are held in high regard. “What are you talking about?”
“You don’t know, huh? Are you living under a rock? Miss Jang is one of the biggest names in the country! She’s Korea’s it girl and national princess. Gosh, every brand she wears—and touches—becomes instant sell outs. She’s like a god even among celebrities!” Rei turns around, scouts the place a second time, as if she isn’t already screaming. Surely, this has to be hyperbole because you’ve never heard anyone with a description this grand, only in children’s role play. “She’s practically royalty, even if she doesn’t have a title.”
“Oookay.” Your lack of interest shows through your dry tone. “Yeah, well Yujin invited me here so—”
“Well, that makes perfect sense. I was thinking you were some kind of celebrity or photographer, but now I also know you’re Yujin’s boyfriend. So, the guy hidden in some of her Instagram photos was you.”
“Right.” Shake your head, slowly drawing away from her and this conversation before you become the center of discussion and treated like an actual celebrity. “So, yeah, it was nice seeing you again—”
“Can I ask you one question?” Her narrow eyes and pouty lips are practically pleading to you. Might as well amuse her just this once. Maybe she’ll finally leave you alone. “Please?”
“Fine, what is it?”
“What kind of person is she in bed?” The question elicits an animated reaction on your face—the kind that gets passed around on the internet as a meme. “I bet she gives really good head—”
“There you are!” Yujin suddenly shouts, interrupting right before it becomes extremely awkward. “Hey Rei! What have you been talking about?”
“Yujin!” The Japanese girl abruptly releases you, meeting her in embrace and exchanging friendly kisses. “Not much, just catching up with your guy about some—” she suddenly pauses, making up an excuse on the fly. “—stuff. Anyway, did you know he doesn’t know who Miss Jang is?”
“I was about to take him to her, actually.”
“Oh no—” You impulsively blurt, losing control over your volume at that moment.
Forget that they’re right in front of you. Forget that you value your own life over some pussy you can get any other time you want.
Surely Miss Jang would be the kind of person who immediately comes for the life of the offending party when the smallest rumor or slander reaches her ears—how much more at an occasion with some of her most esteemed guests, making you an example of what not to do to cross her.
Fortunately, the two friends then turn their eyes toward you, seemingly unaware of your dismayed reaction. Yujin takes you by the hand, but her soft touch doesn’t relax you in the slightest. “I’ll take him to her now. See ya!”
“Of course, have a great night, you two.”
There’s no light at the end of this tunnel; it’s more of a series of unfortunate events connected from one to another. You’d rather take the option of sharing the freakiest, lewdest secrets of your sex life with Rei over meeting this Mistress Jang face-to-face. You had no say in the matter, not when you’re Yujin’s partner and she’s just as highly esteemed of a name, if not greater, as everyone else in the room.
After a flight of stairs, she scans the second floor, where more people are drinking and chatting it up, before heading in. With you in-tow, you head toward the center hallway together. Seemingly uncaring of your hand getting crushed by her grip, she weaves around dashing from one side to the other until she suddenly stops. Her eyes light up when she sees several suited men assembled in a circle surrounding something—or someone.
“She’s over there. Give her a minute,” she says, observing them without giving a moment to consider your squished hand—or you for that matter.
“Understood, Miss Jang,” says the oldest man at the center, nodding. The suited men disperse in different directions like a trained, coordinated army unit. A young girl emerges from the assembly with a cold, steely expression in her eyes and her features.
You expected Miss Jang to be of intimidating, imposing stature, like she could snap you in half like a twig, when really, you’re more likely to toss her around instead. At first glance, everything about her appearance makes her akin to a doll. Pearly white skin, soft, silky lips, and a lightweight figure—everything about her seems curated and designed for maximum appeal to the unrealistic standards of the public. It wouldn’t surprise you if she was actually a life sized model in disguise, with metals and electrical wirings operating the body underneath several layers of unnatural beauty.
Your assumption seemingly comes to pass when she turns her head in a rather mechanical motion, then the blank look on her face shifts to a fixed little beam, hiding any sort of emotion behind them. “Yujin.” Her voice comes out near silent but honeyed, eyes curling into a smile as she recognizes your girl.
“Wony!” She lets go of your hand to hug and give her a kiss on the cheek, treating her like every other acquaintance or friend of hers.
“So, a boyfriend huh? Congratulations,” the other woman replies, reciprocating her friend’s gesture with a kiss on the other cheek. “I’m happy for you.”
“Thanks. He’s kind of a bum, but he’s all right.” Even around friends, Yujin couldn’t help but make the gap between you and her obvious. You’re properly dressed for the occasion (disregarding the fact she bought and tailored it for you), but otherwise, you’re a fish out of water.
“Come here.” Mistress Jang shoots you a cold stare. Frightened, you immediately follow. Releasing herself from Yujin’s hug, she extends her hand out for you to shake. “You must be Yujin’s boyfriend. Welcome.”
“Um,” You try to think of something—anything—respectful to reply to her with, but ultimately come up with nothing. Sure, she’s not the dangerous boss or demanding overlord you envisioned, but she’s still the most important person in the entire mansion, with emergency protocols practically marked all over her. “Thanks.”
“Please, make yourself at home.” Her eyes lock onto yours, curls into a friendly smile, inviting you to act comfortably in her presence. “I know it’s your first time here, so enjoy.”
“Thanks,” you reply twice in quick succession because it’s the only word you can think of. Other words aren't necessary when it’s the safest option available.
Patting you on the shoulder, then giving it a playful squeeze, she reassures you again, “I know you’re nervous because of the whole Mistress Jang thing, but please, I don’t bite. I would never.”
A little teasing smirk and wink from her makes Yujin giggle. The two women rub foreheads, share a brief stare into each other’s eyes, reveling in their strong bond. “Please just call me Wonyoung.”
“Um, okay. Thanks for the welcome, Wony,” you say, looking over your shoulder, trying to escape those magnetic eyes of hers, but they ultimately draw you back in. No one else in the room other than you three. “You two know each other, Yujin?”
“Of course!” The energy Yujin answers you with is infectious. Your girlfriend plants a kiss on her cheek, hooking her arms around her shoulders. If you weren’t around as a third wheel, they’d make for a perfect pair. If she had her way, she would talk about her all day long. “We’ve been friends for a long, long time. Then she got bigger and richer than me and—”
“No need to compare,” interrupts Wonyoung, facing her with a wider grin. “Let’s not make our guests here jealous.”
A hearty laugh from the two follows, and you can’t do anything but smile. You don’t really find their jokes funny, but at the very least, their tight friendship warms your heart. The way their eyes glimmer when they meet, how rosy their cheeks burn, and how close their lips are from making contact—they love each other dearly and intimately it’s almost invasive that you’re awkwardly watching them, as if you didn’t exist in that moment.
You have places to be and other things to do. Inelegant as it sounds, you’re forced to interject, respectfully. “I think I should be on my way now.”
Wonyoung turns her gaze back at you. “Oh, right. Almost forgot you’re there,” she replies, almost bursting into a giggle at the end of her sentence. “The main event will begin soon. Go and have fun in the meantime.”
“Yeah. Go and have fun,” Yujin repeats, almost taunting. It’s almost second nature for her to tease you. The twosome turn around and walk away, hands still clingy like they can’t live without the other, and their collective laughter echoes all over the room as they leave you alone.
—————
You promised yourself not to stir up a commotion during the party, knowing that anything you do has a high probability to snowball out of control very fast. Only one drink will suffice. It’s not like you’re deeply hurting at all, unlike in the past.
You’re sifting through framed photos throughout the house, mostly of Wonyoung’s silver spoon childhood, but one picture sticks out from the rest—one with her and Yujin that was certainly taken recently. It becomes even more apparent that she’s most likely her only friend, considering she’s the only one present in the photos who isn’t connected by family or bloodline.
“Yo!” A shout breaks your introspection. Turn your head and Rei’s fastly approaching you. This time, you don’t even try to hide your annoyed expressions. “Enjoying the place? Have you met Mistress Jang yet? What was she like?”
Remaining silent, you feign ignorance, looking the other way, back to the photos. Unsurprisingly, it doesn’t work.
She’s standing right beside you, smiling mischievously. It's almost trollish, almost pervasive, and downright annoying. You wonder how anyone puts up with her, and how she even gets invited to these gatherings. “Did you see her and Yujin holding hands? They look so cute together! I bet they would make an amazing couple, you know?”
You raise your eyebrows, partially in agreement, but mostly to entertain her, if it means she eventually leaves you alone.
“You know, you’re such a weird guy for being Yujin’s supposed ‘boyfriend’,” she continues, pushing her face close to yours, lips pouting and shooting you mischievous, playful looks. “I mean, I don’t get why she’d want someone like you, unless you’ve got something big down there—”
At this point, you’d rather cut your ears off than listen to another minute—no, five seconds—of her grating prattling.
When you walk away from her, she takes a hold of your hand, causing you to look over your shoulder, furious. Glaring at her, you snap. “Back off.”
“I’m not backing off until you answer me!” Rei’s shouting, trying to make a scene out of this heated exchange. “Serious, I’ve been nice to you the whole time, yet you don’t even look at me with equal respect!”
“What does that have to do with respect? You’re being annoying as fuck!” You don’t mince your words. “I mean, why does it matter to you that I’m fucking Yujin every night?”
She staggers back, eyes wide in shock, jaw slack, and the hand that seized you covers her mouth. It’s the answer she wants, yet it sounds unbelievable. It also draws the attention of everyone nearby, some approaching to see what kind of commotion is happening. There might as well be a huge spotlight shone on you both. You’re the main characters now.
One glance and it rips you from the immersion of the moment. Dozens of eyes focused on you and your co-star, eagerly anticipating what happens after the cliffhanger. The break is long and awkward; nothing exciting happens while you both freeze in place, like the script hasn’t been completed yet. In your mind, you’re hoping someone slaps some sense into you—or wakes you up from this elaborate dream.
“We’re just talking here, not much is happening!” Somehow, you’re able to break character to break the tension. It doesn’t seem to work initially. The onlookers remain observant of the situation, unconvinced, until one person leaves, followed by another, and more disperse, until you’re completely irrelevant in their eyes once more. Even more amazing is how not a single butler stepped in to intervene during the sudden uproar.
Deafening silence follows as you’re both left alone to contend within yourselves without outside interference. One look at Rei and you find her still motionless, like every part of her malfunctioned. Perhaps it’s the bluntness in how you’ve admitted a lewd secret to her or the way you snapped against her that caught her by surprise. You’re not entirely responsible though. She should have known what she was getting into by poking the bear.
Still, you’re a nice guy, and it’s still a heat of the moment action you’ll definitely regret in the morning. “Um, look, I’m sorry, but yeah—”
“Gosh.” Rei suddenly blurts, eyes still wide, staring at you without a single blink that it’s a little unsettling. You expected her to finally calm down after such a quiet, low answer, but instead, she follows with, “I wonder how well she takes your cock—I mean—how well does she give head?”
“Is this how you talk to friends and acquaintances, Rei?” you reply, tilting an eyebrow, more amused than annoyed.
“Maybe—” she rolls her eyes, avoiding your gaze, and you can spot the faintest sign of a devious smirk on her lips. “I mean, I wouldn’t mind if you showed me with your girlfriend’s consent—”
“To all house guests. To all house guests.” An artificial voice echoes over the speakers, interrupting the conversation and grabbing everyone’s attention. “Please gather outside. The special show will be starting soon.”
After the brief distraction, she faces you again with a friendly, mutual smile, saying, “We can talk about this another time.”
Leaving you on another cliffhanger, she spins around and follows everyone outside.
—————
The interior of the mansion is nothing compared to the courtyard. An enclosure so large in scale; it can host a concert or festival. While you and the guests pick seats, butlers form the stage for the performance. Surprisingly, Rei opts not to lurk close by, instead choosing a seat far behind. You, on the other hand, settle for one in the second-most front row area. She doesn’t spot you spying on her a fair distance away, and probably for the best, too, after what had just transpired.
Ignore her. You’ll want to avoid her for the rest of the night. Perhaps if you’re luckier, Yujin decides she’s had enough and wants to leave, but it’s very, very unlikely. It would take the ground beneath you splitting to separate her from her best friend.
Smoke rapidly fills the platform as the stage goes dark. The entrance is grandiose; the audience around you erupts in thunderous applause as two silhouettes flash themselves behind a door-shaped window. You can recognize both figures with ease. With all the times your fingers traced her skin and curves, you could recreate Yujin’s body from memory alone.
The cheering grows as the windows swing open, their faces now in clear view. Yujin and Wonyoung make this sexy pose side by side. It’s almost unbelievable how radically different their attitudes are on stage, and you were just speaking to them a while ago. A handful of phones are stretched out to take photos of the duo, while you’re mentally taking pictures, taking in their overwhelming beauty that cameras don’t do them enough justice. Your girlfriend was always the first thing you had your eyes on, but admittedly, Wonyoung’s making you feel some kind of way, too.
They follow up with a parallel strut that outshines any model. Yujin shoots your side of the audience a flirtatious smirk, and your reaction is no different than anyone else, falling head over heels for her, as if you weren’t her lucky one. Wonyoung’s smile is more innocent, dainty—the kind that warms even the coldest of hearts. Had your fingers not bore deep into your thighs, self-restrained, you might have quietly snuck them between your groin, irrespective of where you are and who you’re with.
You don’t realize they’re singing on stage with the stationed mic stands. You’re mostly immersed in their little sensual movements and the way they motion to the crowd with their hands. You don’t know the lyrics to every song, but you’re bopping lightly, imagining how their tight bodies would react when they ride you in private. There’s a little hum quietly dripping from your lips, not because you’re following along with the tune, but because you’re moaning.
Yujin and Wonyoung perform for half an hour, but you don't waste a single second of it not admiring them. There are times when one of the girls waves or shoots a pair of eyes at your direction, but you remain reactionless, taking in the sight of their perfection before you like they’re a present for your patience.
One more wave to the audience before they leave, to the loudest wave of resounding cheers. They walk back to where they stood in the entrance, flaunting their cheeks before the doors close and they disappear in a puff of smoke. In a different setting, you'd have ran onto the stage and taken them both, right then and there, in front of the crowd, without a care in the world.
—————
You don’t hear a word from either of them for the next two hours. Biding the time, you wait on the outskirts of the courtyard, beyond anyone’s sight, taking solace under the fresh mountain air, occasionally looking through your phone with no texts or calls, looking for a sign to leave. One look over your shoulder and it’s very clear that no one’s going home anytime soon. Taking photos of the two was the smarter play, in hindsight.
“Miss Jang would like to have a word with you.” A steely voice catches your attention. Tilt your head to find one of the many nameless butlers standing upright before you. “Come with me.”
“Oh thank God.” You’re not even hiding your excitement, as evident by that lively pep in your step. You feel your patience is finally being rewarded.
You follow the servant back to the mansion proper, avoiding eye contact with anyone, even when you catch a glimpse of Rei around the corner interacting with another guest. Back up the stairs to the second floor. Not another soul around and not a single sound can be heard. Ultimately, he leads back to the room where you first met Wonyoung before turning around and leaving you there alone.
“Wait, what does she want—” The door slams shut with a loud thud before you can even finish the question. Run back to chase him, but the door remains firmly shut and you’re unable to open it. Knowing how much surveillance there is everywhere, it wouldn’t surprise you if she knew of your little exchange with Rei, whether it be cameras, microphones, or guests disguised as moles.
“No, no, no—” you grumble, each one more fearful than the last. Try as you can to turn that knob, it refuses to budge. Texting Yujin’s your only other option, but you can’t get a good signal inside the spacious chamber, despite previously seeing 5G on your phone. The lights suddenly shutting off would be the last thing you want to happen, and against your wishes, it’s what does end up happening—leaving you entirely in the dark.
It’s the stuff of nightmares: completely shut inside a rich manor, with lights suddenly going off at random, and with no forms of communication. The only thing missing are the windows swinging open to let strong winds blow, but you have to stop thinking more of these grim thoughts before they become reality.
Desperation sets in so quickly; you’re banging aimlessly at the door, at the window, but not even your hardest efforts can move a single inch. Nowhere to run, nowhere to hide. Your fate is basically sealed.
A little gleam clears darkness from the other side of the room. A call to judgment. A slim figure walks in, judge, jury, and possibly executioner all at once. Then the lights come back on, blinding you.
“Hi.” She calls to you gently, ignoring that you’re walking in aimless circles. “You okay?”
A scream escapes your breath, leaving you in your most embarrassing state. “Wonyoung!” You don’t give her any space to ask for context. “Look, if this is about what happened earlier, then I’m sorry—”
“Sorry?” She raises an eyebrow and her lips curl into a frown, concerned for different reasons. “Incident? Are you okay?”
“Didn’t you know? Me and Rei got into an—oh.” Realizing there’s no reason to panic, you relearn the ability to pick up cues, and act like everything’s normal. Wonyoung’s shooting you a wary look, and it’s not far off from how everyone else at this party saw you—at least at one point. “Yeah, no. I was kinda scared because the lights suddenly went off and—”
“The lights? Well, Yujin told me you were a scaredy cat,” says Wonyoung with a small smile. You roll your eyes to the side, far more annoyed than anything else that happened tonight. Take back what you’ve said earlier. Yujin’s the kind of person who’d actually pull those tricks on you, and of course she’d allow her friend to get involved in her own warped games to avoid suspicion. That’s how cunning she can be. She sees you as a sandbox to play with.
“I’m sorry. I called you so I can apologize and because I want to speak to you.” Wonyoung continues quietly, bowing reverently as if she committed an unforgivable crime—something she most likely learned being under intense scrutiny all the time. Forgiveness was going to be given, regardless. This seems completely unnecessary, but you appreciate the sincerity and effort.
“Wony, or Miss Jang, whatever you want to be called—it’s fine, there’s no need to cry about it.” She lifts her head, sobbing a little, and her lips contort into a gentle smile. You can see and understand why she’s so beloved; beyond the wealth, she’s so innocent, pure looking and sounding, all the elements of a likable character in a cute package.
“Thank you.” She nods her head energetically, shaking your hands in appreciation. Dramatic behavior for something relatively minor, but you’re a guest without any authority in her house. Besides, how can you say no to that endearing face? “I’m really sorry. I just wanted to be close with my friend—”
“Yujin? Don’t worry about it. She likes to tease me a lot,” you interrupt, rolling your eyes to the side again, tone mildly disgruntled. Another one of her playful tactics, out in the light. “And I can see you two are really close.”
“Yeah.” Wonyoung brushes a finger against her pink cheek, pouting her lips. “We’ve been friends for so long, I don’t remember anything before we met.”
She suddenly stops, looks over your shoulder, before adding, “We should take our little talk to another room.”
—————
“Thirsty?” asks Wonyoung, walking around the room, scouring for the tea infuser.
“Kind of,” you reply, unsure if you really want a drink—or to drink her. Either way, you’re dying for a taste of something sweet.
While she’s preoccupied with serving you tea, you scan her from head to toe, still dressed in her showy outfit from earlier. A red corset covers her white dress shirt and tie, complemented by her hair wrapped in a cute bun. None of it steals your attention more than her short shorts, showing a glimpse of her plump ass cheeks that ripple when she casually walks back and forth. Her attitude is nothing compared to what she displayed on stage, yet she renders you speechless. In your head, she’s still the daring woman out there performing.
She walks over to you, casually reclined on the comfy sofa, with a fresh pot of tea in hand. Pouring a drink on your cup, she shoots you a heartstopping smile, like she’s facing the cameras; it’s second nature for her to charm. A memory you’ll keep forever. “Here you go.”
“Thanks.” Lean over to grab the cup and take a sip. Very hot that it scalds your tongue, causing you to flinch, but it’s tasty. “Mmmmm—hot, hot, hot.”
She giggles in the middle sipping her own self-made drink, but it doesn’t bother her. Admittedly, you’re no religious tea drinker to tolerate it, but on the contrary, she handles it with such well-trained poise. It’s in the little details: how straight her sitting posture is and how she holds the cup in her delicate hand, despite the long nails, along with the saucer—very princess coded.
“Not used to tea?” she asks, before taking another swig at it. “It’s healthy for you, you know that?”
“Don’t really have time for it,” you reply back, mirroring her motion, but the second nip is just as sizzling. As a result, you end up looking even more stupid. She has this neutral, deadpan look on her features, but the little shift in her lips as you burn your tongue on her tea reveals cracks in her well-manufactured character. A very embarrassing display, even behind closed doors. “Shit—I mean, crap, that’s hot—”
“Hey, you can swear here. This isn’t a church.” Her cup is half-empty or half-full, depending on how she sees it, before she puts it down on the table. “So where were we again? Right. Yujin.”
Her name sets off red flags in your head, activating your fight or flight response. Even when you’re in the most secure place in the world, where nothing can hear or see you, she’s lurking around the corners of your mind rent-free. Knowing she’s close with Wonyoung means she’s more than likely in the know about every part of you, down to your most personal parts. The lights prank was the biggest proof of this.
“Tell me. What is she like as a girlfriend to you?” No mincing words, no gentle mood setting opener, she goes straight to the point, yet you’re still on edge. The wary side of you believes she’s probably extracting info that you’re keeping for yourself. It’s the perfect lure; behind all the flashy lights, she has a kind and friendly aura wrapped in a sweet package.
It takes a few minutes to process and think your answer through. Her eyes demand honesty, but to you, it’s probably just a front. She’s a celebrity, after all. She wears a mask everywhere she goes.
“That’s a very personal question to ask,” you reply, emphasis on very. There are lines that can’t be crossed, and this is one of them. You’re not falling for the bait so easily.
Wonyoung tilts her head, cocking an eyebrow, unbothered. “I know. Yujin tells me you’re a great lover, but I wanna hear it from your side. How do you feel about her?”
“She’s a great lover too,” you reply, testing the waters’ depth. Very treacherous. Hope it doesn’t pull you down and drag you to the bottom. “She likes to tease, she’s very playful, and she likes to make me look bad in front of her friends, but otherwise, she’s great in just about everything.”
She lifts her eyebrow and nods, taking mental notes of every spoken word. After a pause, it’s on to the next question. “In what way does she make you look bad in front of your friends?”
There’s still time to swim back to safety, but the waves are growing more turbulent by the minute.
“Er—” you struggle to formulate anything that doesn’t raise a suspicious eyebrow. Either it breaks continuity, or makes no sense. Maybe you’ll float, somehow, but that sinking feeling remains stronger. “She likes to stick it in my face that she can own me if she wants to.”
“And is that not true? You know you’re dating a celebrity right?” Wonyoung places a finger on her chin, staring deeply into your soul. She’s the taller person in the room, but not the bigger person. “We’re kind of narcissistic like that to anyone. You should have known that.”
“If I knew all celebrities were like that, I’d have never come back to her,” you say, using every bit of your willpower not to yell at her.
“Yet here you are. And you’d never be here without her presence.” Wonyoung crosses her legs, mildly entertained as you gradually pull those metaphorical hairs off in front of her. “You told me she was great at everything, right? I guess ruining the bedroom must be part of that, too.”
The sound that comes out of you is almost inhuman. Wonyoung’s no longer acting sincerely, breaking character to laugh at your misery. It was bound to happen with how shallow your brain thinks. Then again, you weren’t in the clearest state of mind when you reconnected with Yujin.
“I get it. She’s very hot. Everyone wants a piece of her. Consider yourself very lucky she’s just that—and not a naggy bitch, unlike some of the people in this party,” she adds, smarmy in delivery that it doesn’t feel like proper consolation.
“Yeah, but what else am I supposed to do? I don’t like being her punching bag.”
“To be honest, I don’t know what you two are like, I really don’t.” Wonyoung suddenly stops, hops off from her couch to sit beside you. Disarming of a tone it is, the answer is anything but reassuring. “But think of it this way. Gotta take the bad with the good, right?”
“I guess.” You take a deep breath, uncertain about what to feel, or do.
“She hasn’t done anything to you tonight, right?” She quietly wraps an arm over your shoulders, inching her pristine face close to yours. Another line crossed. Forget about that, she’s dancing back and forth between those non-existent lines.
“Nope. Haven’t seen her after the performance, either.”
Your eyes meet, and hers twinkle brightly, worthy of a star of her name. It’s the thing you wanted the least to happen. You’re drowning in her gaze.
“Can you do something for me?” she asks, whispering softly. Her breath fills your nostrils with inviting warmth.
“Sure,” you say, without hesitation, throwing all caution to the wind.
“I wanna know what she feels,” she says, each word dripping with honey and rapid growing lust. “I wanna know how she feels with you in bed.”
“Are you sure?” you question, but it’s pointless. Your hands are already tracing the outline of her back, marking new territory to explore, until they cup soft, bare, round flesh.
“I’m ready,” she replies back, eyes gleaming with desire. She shifts her entire weight onto you, pushing you to the bottom of the couch, asserting dominance over you. “She told me how amazing you are in bed, and I can’t help but be curious. I really wanna know what it’s like.”
Before you can even question the security of the place, she’s right ahead of you. Kissing the ridge of your nose, she whispers, “Don’t worry if we’re being too loud. Only the both of us will know.”
Kiss her on the lips in return. A lure until you flip positions. Suddenly, you’re hovering above her. Your hands drag along upward until they grasp the zipper of her red corset. You meet resistance when she quivers beneath you, shaking her head vehemently.
“What’s wrong?” you ask, pulling yourself back into a crouch.
“I want to keep my clothes on,” she whispers, timid and nervous, her demure character gone in an instant. “Um—it’s not that I suddenly changed my mind, it’s just that I haven’t done this before.”
You sit up on the couch, perfectly understanding, quickly formulating a way for you to make her first time feel comfortable. “Tried any toys before?”
Wonyoung follows you, softly grasping your hand. “Played with a few dildos, but that’s about it. I find it quite uncomfortable at times.”
“Hmm.” An idea suddenly hits you like lightning. It’s ridiculous, but you might as well swing for the fences. “Watched porn?”
“What?” Wonyoung’s jaw slacks, caught off-guard by such a rather obscene question, even by lewd standards. She lets a moment to let the question sink in, more on the side of disbelief than looking for an answer. “Yes, but—why?”
“Well, I was wondering if you want to learn how to suck a cock.”
“Mmm, that sounds interesting, but I’ve seen enough ‘movies' to have an idea.” Wonyoung hops off the couch, promptly drops to her knees. Frisky fingers latch on to the hem of your pants, already ahead of you. “Would you like me to suck your cock?”
There was no need to elaborate any further.
You give her an approving nod. Immediately, her fingers work on your zipper, sliding them down. The rest of your pants and underwear follow. Her eyes light up at the sight of your cock, springing to life after being freed.
Looking up at you again, she asks, “Can I?”
Nod again, completely hypnotized by the sight of your shaft close to the perfect, young starlet’s face. It’s almost scandalous how you have what’s basically a goddess in everyone’s sight brought down to earth in such a filthy manner.
“I’m not really good at this, but I really wanna try.” Wonyoung’s being apologetic again before anything happens, and it’s repetitive, but you’ll let it slide over and over. She sticks out her tongue, nervously inching it close to your cock, until it plants atop your tip, breaking your resolve almost immediately.
“Mmmmm.” She gets her first taste of real cock. It's bitter, salty, and everything she expects, everything she craves. That first slurp cools her dry throat, like finding an oasis in the middle of a desert.
“Christ.” You lose control of your senses, eyes growing weary at the sight of her dainty fingers, the way they wrap around the base of your dick, pumping you to full hardness. You can't believe it. There's this surge of ecstasy, and it renders you helpless under her control. "This was your first time? Fuck--"
Sloppy slurps and smooches from her lips reduce you into a groaning mess. She spreads globs of precum all around your shaft, unintentionally spilling little specks on her chin and cheeks. Her eyes continue to watch intently while you fall weak at the knees, clinging nails to the sofa’s linen. Ignore the collateral damage you’re making. It will barely dig into her deep pockets.
The more Wonyoung continues to blow you off, the more seed splatters onto her, making her sparkly features even more glinting. It’s difficult to comprehend just how incredible she is at sucking cock—or maybe it’s just you struggling to think beyond pleasure and nothing else. She claims it’s her first time, yet the way her fingers stroke you with confident and elaborate precision means anything but. The little bits of white that taint her flawless face do nothing but make a masterpiece shine even brighter.
Her tongue continues to slide and make itself known all over your length. It’s almost impossible not to give in to your urges and force yourself down her throat. She’s doing well so far; you can barely hear her gurgle or complain while she takes more of you inside her, little by little. Caress that dark hair, still bundled together in a cute package. She reciprocates your compliment by pushing a little bit further, even when her maw tries to resist, only to cross a line she hasn’t reached.
“Ghhhk, mmmph, ghhhk!” Wonyoung coughs into your shaft, overwhelmed by the fullness of your length, tickling her sensitive part deep in the gullet. You pull her by the bun, release her throaty grip on your shaft with a sloppy pop, letting saliva spill onto the floor and her dress.
“You okay?” you ask, concealing the bliss you feel with a frown. Compared to her, you’re not a good actor.
To your surprise, she slaps you away from her harshly, then shoots you a disappointed pout. More adorable than intimidating. “I was still adjusting, asshole. If your dick wasn’t so fucking big—”
“Gotta take the bad with the good, right?” you deflect what she said to you earlier, chuckling at her cute scowl. Unknowingly, Yujin’s mannerisms are rubbing off on you, but you refuse to give credit where it’s due.
Wonyoung rises from the floor, opting to straddle herself on your lap instead. Your shaft lines against soft, wet flesh. Her hands grab the bottom of her shorts, pulling them up for easier access to her folds. It’s impossible to look anywhere but those magnetic caramel eyes, staring deep into your soul, telling you what she wants, without the need of any needless words.
“I’m ready now.” She rests her hands against your shoulders, looking at you expectantly. That was only a warm-up. It’s time for the real test. “Fuck me.”
You’re briefly taken aback just by how blunt her demand is, but those two words spoken in such a sensuous tone linger. Denying her at this stage would be downright criminal. Her slim thighs wrap around the area where your cock stands, the softness of her skin more than capable of making you cum before you can do anything.
She leans forward to capture you in a passionate kiss, hotter and more passionate than the first. The spell that pushes away whatever logical and moral barriers remain. There’s an angel placed before your lap; time to make her sing.
Lift her up until she gently descends and makes a graceful landing against your shaft. Upon impact, the kiss is disrupted, rocking her entire body with a new, electric sensation. Moaning music into your mouth, she makes it clear how heavenly you feel.
“Mmm—oh God, you’re already stretching me out,” she purrs against you, shutting her eyes and letting all the pleasure wash over her.
“Better than any dildo?”
“Better than any dildo.” She nods, lifting her head to expose her neck, clean and pure—ready for ruin, just like every other part of her.
“Just moan for me, okay?” you say, whispering against her nape. “I’m gonna fuck you like how I fuck Yujin.”
Her body locks as you push deep into her tight, overwhelming cunt. To say she was suffocating would be an understatement. Her sopping pussy proves to be a strong vacuum when you draw back for the first time, pulling every bit of you deep into her core. She’s grasping at straws to not fall apart so quickly. Tugging your hair, neck, and into your expensive dress shirt—none of that bothers you in the slightest, thrusting in a second time, adjusting quicker to her heat than you expected.
You release a breath you’ve unknowingly been holding, looking up at her pleasure ridden face. Her expressions melt in every direction, chest heaving deeply from all the built-up pleasure. “You’re really tight, Wony.”
Resting her forehead against your temple, her palm grips the back of your skull. “And you’re so big.” Praise you’ll never grow tired of hearing from anyone. “C’mon. Do it already.”
In an ideal world, all her clothes would have been gone while you pound into her wet, delicious pussy. This is just as hot, too—maybe even hotter. The usually imperfect Wonyoung looking like your typical girl at the local bar arouses you. So you weaponize those nasty thoughts and do your God-given purpose—to fuck pleasure into their needy, wanton bodies.
Pushing your strained hips up, you pound her, make her sing to high heaven. Hungry fingers hike up the rest of the leftover fabric in her shorts being sucked in by her gap, partially stained from pent up excitement. It’s a familiar feeling, reminiscent of when you were young, innocent and didn’t know any better. Now it’s playing out again, scene by scene, with a few key differences. The girl is different, and you’re nowhere close to being drunk, but here you are—stuck in that old place.
Wonyoung is nowhere close to assertive, unlike her. Her confidence and emphaticness immediately crumble after the first thrust, and freefall even further on the second. She’s not ripping through your clothes, nor is she eager to lead you to bed right away, how she has you glued to the couch with those slender legs. None of that matters when her moans are pornographic, unbefitting of her otherwise pure, princess-like charm that she’s famously known for. On the contrary, her torrid, frantic kisses perfectly embody that trademark allure.
You’re testing those waters again to see how far you’ll go before you inevitably drown. One hand rests at the zipper of her corset, imprinted with your fingerprints, eagerly anticipating her go-ahead for undressing. The other confides on her plump ass molding into your grip, into something truly yours. Meanwhile, she continues to alternate between a mewl and a moan, crashing her body against your shaft to stretch her out even further. Soften her up more with kisses and nibbles on her chin and neck, leave crimson marks as red as her dress. As glowing as she already is, she will shine brighter than the lights above.
“Yujin must be so lucky to have you,” whines Wonyoung, huskily, tilting your face up to meet her fluttery eyes glazed with pleasure, expressions twisting with every overwhelming sensation. She kisses you again. The taste of strawberry flavored lipstick will never leave you. “This dick is so good—”
“I’m still holding back, babe.” Kiss her reddened neck and collarbone. The way she moans in response reminds you of her, a pleasure they both share. “I want you to feel good since it’s your first time.”
Yujin would demand you to up the pace, and lead you to a rushed ruin, but not Wonyoung. “It really feels so good. Keep going.”
Even as you engage in small conversation, your slow, loving tempo rocks her light frame vigorously, releasing sweet melodies you’d never hear from that mouth otherwise. Her tight, sopping cunt flexes against your cock, allowing you smoother and sloppier glides in and out of her core. You’re nowhere close to hitting the perfect angle, but her silvery mewls offer consolation. She continues to envelop you in her tight embrace, hands reaching all over your back, wanting more of you merged with her as possible.
The hand itching to undress her roams down her back to rejoin the other in squeezing her soft, cheeky flesh. To your amusement, she yelps in your ear and she violently quivers, eliciting a silent giggle out of you. A test of the room’s soundproofing, and it works as intended. Her entire body is in your grasp, moldable and malleable in any shape and form to your heart’s utmost desires.
“I don’t know how much longer I can last. I’m so close to cumming,” she whispers, and it only spurs you on to lead her into a satisfying climax. Slow as you are penetrating her, you want the moment to last longer. A few minutes isn’t enough for you to relish the warm sensation of your cock buried in her incredibly tight hole. Still, she has this look in her weary eyes demanding you to pull through, which you happily oblige.
“Where do you want me to cum?” you ask, slowing your pace down that even snails move faster. You’re unwilling to take any risks, especially with someone like her.
“Anywhere you want.” Wonyoung continues to fuck herself against your cock, apathetic about everything else except the high she intensely seeks. “I swear, if you pull out now, I’m going to—”
A kiss on those sensitive collarbones tempers her demanding mouth, back to those broken, varied moans. Another reminder that she’s nowhere close to grabbing you by the balls like Yujin could. As punishment, the dress must come off, but you know it’s not worth the rest of your life in perpetual harassment in exchange for temporary pleasure. You’ve already learned your lesson; she’ll understand it one day.
For now, you settle into that laid back pace, lifting yourself a bit off the couch as much as your legs allow you to. Wonyoung has basically marked down your whole back with her nails, hoarsely squealing and whimpering as her body trembles. You can feel it in every part of her how she’s ready to cum with the way her pussy clenches against your cock, unwilling to let go, just like the first time you entered her.
“Oh god, I’m gonna cum—”
Right on the dot, Wonyoung finally gives in, throwing her head back to let pleasure run its course. It pulls you deep, gives her juices to liberally coat your shaft with delicious waves of slick, dripping on the couch and down to her thighs, forming a lifetime connection with you. The force sends you back down on the sofa, enough to stop you right in your tracks, long before you’re even close to cumming.
“Oh my god, oh my god. I came so much.” Firmly clinging to you, she rests her head on your shoulders, completely zapped of all her strength. Her eyes tilt down to note the wet puddle blocked by your legs. It doesn’t alarm her in the slightest; to her, a replacement couch is cheaper than a thorough cleaning.
Kissing her ear and placing her beside you on the sofa, you quietly ask, “How was it?”
“I came so much. Oh my God,” she says, unable to comprehend she spilled that much. Her gaze remains glued to the wet pool formed on the couch, now seeing the full extent of her wreckage. A curious finger taps the sticky pool to make sure she’s not imagining things. “I don’t think I ever came that much with any dildo.”
Putting back your pants on, you smile at her innocent reaction. She’s still fresh to it all, but there’s a curiosity in her eyes, wanting to learn more. “You’ll get used to it.”
“I really wanted to undress you, you know.” you follow, examining her from head to toe, all sweaty and clothes soiled from a simple session—and you weren’t trying too hard. “I can’t help but imagine what’s beneath all that clothing.”
“You’ll see.” Her eyes have a fiery glint reminiscent of your girlfriend, and all of a sudden, she has this renewed life. “Just so you know, you didn’t cum in me, asshole.”
“Just being safe,” you reply, shrugging your shoulders. “Wasn’t sure if you were on the pill or not.”
“Of course I was on the pill.” Wonyoung looks away, but you can discern the scornful expression on her features, seemingly offended by your comment. “I would never.”
You flash a taunting smirk, ready to play her preferred trick. There was no way this would end after a one and done. “Why don’t we take this to the bed right now, then?”
—————
It was so obvious right from the start.
The door barely grants access to Wonyoung’s bedroom, but you already had a finger directed at the center of the mattress, pointing out the glaringly obvious figure laying on its edge. It doesn’t surprise you in the slightest, and looking back in retrospect, everything building up to this moment was all part of an elaborate plan.The questions, the setup, the secretive location—they were all red flags. Then again, you always think with your cock, not with your brain, especially when there’s a pretty girl begging for it.
“Hey sweetheart,” says Yujin, whimsically, posing on her side like it’s one of her typical photoshoots. Like Wonyoung, she’s still in her performance outfit, but with her hair down in contrast to her junior’s bun. “Having fun?”
“Was,” you retort, but your complaint has no ground when you’re unable to keep your eyes off your seductive girlfriend.
She smirks and giggles, knowing everything’s falling into place. “Wony baby. How was the experience?”
“Pretty good,” replies Wonyoung, smiling from ear to ear. “He didn’t cum in me though.”
“Hey,” you suddenly blurt out, turning your gaze to the younger woman, not even trying to hide your annoyance, because you know what really happened.
“You’ll get yours, babe.” Yujin rolls off the bed to approach you, retaking control of what’s hers from her friend. She then pushes you onto the mattress, staring you down like a hungry predator stalking down her prey, aroused by the taste of blood—or in this case, lust. If not for those fiery pupils watching your every little move, hammering home the fear of God into your soul, there would be some fight in you to resist.
Now that’s a lie, because you would never—she always had her way with you.
“Watch and learn.” Climbing and hovering atop you, slowly spreading your legs, Yujin looks over to her best friend, watching on eagerly to see what it’s really like with you two. She’s seated on the edge of the bed, having restored much of her elegant poise to its clean, camera friendly form.
“You did a great job warming him up for me,” says Yujin, grinding her hips against your clothed prison, already on the verge of blowing up. The two beauties watch in amusement as your tent pitches a second time. Fuck. You’re already leaking copious amounts, it’s quite obvious, and she’s humping you at such a relaxed tempo.
“He really wanted to undress me,” comments Wonyoung, still flashing that princess-like beam, looking innocent in the matter, when in fact, she’s the instigator. “I told him not to, and he thankfully didn’t, but I felt his hands on my zipper a few times.”
“Mmm, being so naughty when I’m not looking?” Yujin’s tone is honeyed, but her movements are anything but. The pace she grinds herself against you quickens, and you’ve never felt so desperate for release, but you had no say in the matter—not when she has your hands tied over your head, kept in place by Wonyoung’s delicate but firm grip. “Were you ready to leave me for her? Good choice, but typical.”
Quick fingers make near-instant work of your pants and underwear, pushed down to the floor in an instant, freeing up your hard cock. Such relieving freedom is taken away just as quickly as it’s given when Yujin seizes you by the balls and your length, setting you alight. Each second burns hotter than the last, a kind of fucked-up form of punishment typical of the justice system.
“Jesus, f-fuck, Yujin—” you hoarsely whimper, visibly struggling to gather air, but it only serves to arouse Yujin, and she reprimands your feeble oppression with a tighter lock on your most sensitive parts, smirking devilishly. It’s useless. For Yujin, this is all play, an elaborate demonstration to teach Wonyoung, but the pain is real. There’s a good likelihood you may not have a functioning pelvis in the morning.
“You’re being very rough on him.” Wonyoung watches on concernedly, but also intrigued by the rather torturous method being performed. She knows she couldn’t overpower Yujin if she tried, and well, she most certainly didn’t want to be on the receiving end of her hands, either.
“He actually enjoys being handled like this, dear.” Yujin makes sure not a single spot in your shaft is left unchecked by her steely hold. The deflated, helpless expression on your face says otherwise, but it’s only a front for what comes after. Little white spurts spill from the tip of your shaft, sufficient evidence to prove her point. “See?”
“Mm, are they like this all the time?” Wonyoung remains unconvinced.
“Not always, but you’ll find one someday—someone who’ll beg on their knees to fuck you.” Her stranglehold on your cock loosens, finally giving you some actual breathing room—at least in your groin. “Didn’t you have that Korean government official sending you birthday ads and flowers?”
“Too ugly for my taste.” The younger woman grimaces at the reminder of that particular man, wishing he never be brought up in conversation ever again, much to her friend’s laughter. “I would never.”
Yujin nods along in agreement. “You’re too pretty for him. I bet he doesn’t even have a big dick like our little friend over here.”
“True.” Suddenly, both pairs of eyes turn in your direction, stare you down with a malicious smirk, full of purposeful intent. You would meet them halfway with your own confidence, but not when you’re in such a powerless position and with most of your strength sapped.
“Come up here.” Yujin gestures to her keen friend, hopping off your lap to make room for the lighter woman. Hiking up her equally short shorts, she hovers above you, giving you a peek of her splayed out pussy—the one you’ve craved for so long. Meanwhile, Wonyoung occupies the space previously occupied by Yujin, smothering you in a sea of soft, creamy thighs. The older woman spins around to face her untrained partner, hanging her cheeky flesh atop your face—a perfect view and obstruction.
“What are you gonna do to him?” asks Wonyoung, eyes wide with curiosity at Yujin’s seemingly awkward and strained position.
“Don’t pay attention to him.” Yujin promptly rests her ass against your face like a pillow, followed by her thighs muffling up your ears. “Get on top of his cock.”
Wonyoung complies, gliding her hips down in a graceful manner until she hilts herself down to your base, impaling her cunt with your hard dick. The inviting, suffocating heat that surges throughout your sensitive body makes you violently tremble. What a position you are in, something that most people in the country could only dream of. Two beauties in the prime of youth, desired by everyone, sandwiching you with their perfect, goddess-like figures. At this point, you were simply an outlet of pleasure to two wanton, hot bodies and nothing more.
“O-oh God—” Yujin lets out a prolonged, tense whine as your tongue licks between her glistening folds, indulging in the sweet taste of her wet juices. Her thighs tighten up in response to your stimulation, closing spaces where you can breathe, but that doesn’t bother you. You craved her more than a drink in a dry desert with the way you lapped up her slick, and her suffocating legs were nothing but practice to hold in your deep breaths. For once, it was nice to have some form of control in the situation.
“You okay?” asks Wonyoung, clambering her palms against your thighs, looking hesitant.
“More than okay. This feels so fucking good.” Yujin’s confident expressions gradually melt away to make room for pleasure to take over. Before long, her slender, hourglass-shaped hips ride against your face, maximizing the areas your tongue can dig into. Her hands cling to your clothed chest for support, unable to remain balanced while you continue to feast on her. Miraculously, she’s still able to formulate a follow up, albeit with a string of stammers and stutters. “S-see? You’ll w-want your guy to be l-like this.”
“C-come on, ride h-his c-cock, d-dear. I-I-i’m s-sure h-he won’t mind.” Yujin reassures her friend with a weak smile that immediately folds under the helpless, blissful sensations her body feels.
Fueled by newly found courage, Wonyoung glides and slams her hips against yours in delicate, graceful motions, still testing her limits. Your primal instincts take hold of you and you thrust upwards in kind, making her thin figure move atop you in smooth waves. It doesn’t take long before their collective moans form a harmonious symphony that you wish you could hear perfectly, if not for the two layers of silky, thick skin blocking your ears.
“F-fuck!” Wonyoung whines, clutching at your waist, but the overbearing pleasure coursing through her body almost makes her fall off multiple times. Thankfully, her closest friend is there to keep her on her toes. “O-oh my God, o-oh God—”
“Feels good, doesn't it?” Yujin rests her hands on her junior’s shoulders while grinding her ass against your face, allowing you an endless fill from her slick fountain. “Just hold on. I’m here, okay?”
Wonyoung nods. Unsatisfied with her limitations, her hips increase in pace riding you. She wants to prove she can handle it, and that she’s ready for more of it. Soon, she grows comfortable, fully adjusted to your length. No longer needing Yujin’s help, she helps herself to her own lewd pleasures, using your cock roughly as her conduit.
Not a single second passes by that you feel your body split in half, moving in two different wavelengths: one half preoccupied with eating Yujin’s delicious pussy, and the other slowly pumping into Wonyoung’s tight, sopping cunt. You’re a quick learner. You know all their sweet spots to hit and create the most satisfying sounds from their lips. Subtlety is the least of their priorities—a point proven when they’re loudly cursing and passionately declaring how good you feel, echoing across several rooms. The rooms might be soundproof, but the entire mansion may as well hear you three fuck.
Between clean licks of Yujin’s wet folds, when she lifts her ass out of your view, you can barely make out her and Wonyoung’s pleasure-ridden expressions. The two friends have begun making out with each other in between lewd moans and whispers, while never letting up the pace they ride you with.
You’d love to lay in this position forever, as the complementary piece for two of the most beautiful girls you’ve ever met to pour out their pleasure in. But you knew deep down it wouldn’t last long, especially with Wonyoung, freshly recovered from your first session with her. She was always a ticking time bomb with a shorter fuse, accelerated by the now vigorous rhythm she rode your cock. It was always on your mind that this was her first, but she was fucking you like she had racked up a significant body count.
“S-so c-close,” whines Yujin, huskily, the first spoken word in a while that isn’t either your name or some kind of profanity.
“M-me too,” adds Wonyoung, breaking sequence with a deep kiss of her partner’s lips. There might be no competition, but the twosome’s intensity rises even higher as they desperately chase after that climax. Your body is close to falling apart, cock throbbing wildly, also on the cusp of sweet release, but you’re merely a silent witness with little to no say. You’re just a channel for them to bask in bodily, sexual pleasure.
It’s all but inevitable at this point. The real question is: who would be the first to cum, the first to start a chain reaction?
Their cries bounce loudly against the walls of the bedroom, past opened rooms as they lose control of their bodies, fucking themselves on you until the dams finally break. Yujin’s muscles spasm and crush you between her thighs. For a moment, you’d think she could snap you in half like a twig. A waterfall and a lake forms on opposite ends of your powerless body, creating two sticky pools on both sides. The powerful double surge of their climaxes is enough to bring you to a full stop, allowing them to drown you in their orgasmic bliss, creating one last crescendo as a swan song to their peaks.
The wave of Wonyoung’s orgasm washing over your cock should make you orgasm too, urging the tightness in your balls to burn up. Thank your lucky stars you grinded to a standstill right as they came, giving you enough time to put up some form of resolve not to cum in her right then and there. You’ve been holding the impulse for so long, but you wanted your load not to belong to her first.
To your regret, Yujin clambers off you, parting her bountiful ass away from your face and bringing you to the light. Similarly, Wonyoung gingerly slides off your lap, rolls over to the side, wrapping an arm around your body, completely zapped of all her energy. Yujin rests opposite her junior, not as fatigued as she is. She can’t resist giggling when she sees the aftermath done to you, your entire face a canvas for her cum, which you clean with your tongue.
“You did a number to her. Good job,” she says, darting her eyes over to her tired friend. She plants a finger on your groin, collecting a sampler of Wonyoung’s juices to taste in her mouth before gathering more to put in your mouth as well. Licking her wet digits, she adds, “Tasty.”
Her words barely register in your brain, and so does the little slick she places in your mouth. Your mind only focuses on one particular thing you’ve always wanted to do the whole night besides fucking, and that is to undress both girls and fuck them.
“You okay, Wony?” You turn over to face the worn out Wonyoung, who shoots you a weak but satisfied smile. She lifts her tired arm to give you a thumbs up, as if her beautiful beam wasn’t enough of a reassurance. “You know Yujin and I fuck more than once, right?”
“I know,” replies Wonyoung, coming out as little more than a faint whisper, mirroring her exhaustion. “Give me a minute. Maybe two.”
Eager as you were, you needed a breather, too, and there was no better place to rest than in the middle of two hot girls, lovingly resting their arms around you like they belonged to you.
—————
You take a beat to wipe the nonexistent filth off your chest as the two beauties stride ahead of you towards the desk table. With the way they walk, it doesn’t look apparent that they were railed to oblivion minutes prior. An insignificant detail that quickly becomes forgotten when your eyes take in the seductive and inviting manner they present themselves to you. Two sets of mouthwatering cheeks peek through their particularly short shorts—the most intrusive thing between you and them.
“Come on and fuck us, sweetheart,” says Yujin, looking over her shoulder with that sultry, near-impossible to resist gaze to entice you with sweet, dirty pleas, as if you weren’t already intending to fuck them hard. You always loved to hear those two words, but it’s a lot more special that she’s not alone.
“You still owe me your cum, baby,” adds Wonyoung, trying but cutely failing to mimic her friend’s motions and sexy voice. There’s still an air of elegance and cutesiness in her projection that almost makes you giggle in amusement, but you wouldn’t dare—not when Yujin’s there, eying your little every move, growing impatient and testy, likely because she would pick her over you any day.
Count your blessings.
It’s not difficult to get hard again, especially with the delicious sight in front of you. You finally rid the pesky dress shirt they’ve never removed and expose yourself down to your barest essentials. Positioning yourself between their legs, you stroke your cock with your hand, paint flecks of precum on their round cheeks, warming yourself up to embrace their heat. It’s impossible not to give their flesh a good smack as a reminder that their clean image is nothing more than just that—an image, a facade. You know them more intimately than anyone else.
“You two are so fucking hot,” you say, peppering their asses with a palmful, first to Yujin, then to Wonyoung. “And so naughty. I wonder what those people would say when they see you looking like this?”
“What did I tell you about kissing ass during sex, sweetheart?” Yujin shoots pointed daggers in your direction, unamused. Wonyoung’s not innocent either, following her senior’s eyes with an intrigued gaze. “Put it in already, babe.”
And that was all she said.
It only takes a moment before Yujin falls back to earth. All of her confidence instantly crumbles as you line yourself between her folds, then promptly invade her tight, welcoming pussy, foregoing all manner of pleasantries. She’s as warm and divine as you always wanted her, made easier and slicker by all the juices dripping and flowing down her toned legs. Her face rolls and slams against the surface, yet it can barely contain her strained cries of pleasure. Frantic nails scratch against the board’s edge as her body reacts to every little jolt, surrendering herself to your every whim.
You don’t leave Wonyoung unattended either. You slip a finger between her soaked lips, watch as her sweet, innocuous face crumbles into something lewd, something corrupted. Her eyes immediately go shut and her mouth goes wide with a whine a pitch higher than her senior before they melt into the desk. She’s a bundled mess, moaning into her friend’s ear as her pussy graciously coats your fingers with thick sheens of slick.
“P-please, o-oh God—”
“F-fuck, f-fuck, aaaaah—”
Their combined voices of strained, distorted bliss, dripping from their pleasure-laden faces spur you on and motivate you to ruin them some more. It’s unbelievable how they present themselves out there with a clean image when they have the most salacious, lewd tongues in private. None of it makes sense, how they could wear skimpy clothing in the sight of the most esteemed and well-regarded people in the room and no one would bat an eye, and they certainly wouldn’t raise an eyebrow with how loud they are as they’re being pounded from behind.
None of that ultimately matters to you. You don’t see two big celebrities in front of you. You don’t see your girlfriend and her partner asking for sex. You only see two of the hottest girls you know demanding pleasure, and you’re more than willing to give them everything.
With one hand gripped on Yujin’s ass and two fingers on the other deep inside Wonyoung’s cunt, you dive in and indulge into their overwhelming wetness. This is the kind of sex you always preferred—without any banter, without any further demands, just mindless submission into each other’s heat, filling the air with only the most pornographic sounds and nothing else. There’s nothing the two can do in response, especially when their bodies are squirming and vibrating beneath you, tightly clinging on the desk for dear life, growing wetter with each pump into their wanton pussies.
Without any voices in your head giving you directions, you have free reign to toy with them, use them as your outlet of pleasure now. So you switch your position behind them, sliding your wet dick inside Wonyoung’s pussy and replacing your cock inside Yujin’s cunt with your fingers. Even as you skip a beat, they’re too enamored in their own pleasures to realize your sudden absence, and far preoccupied by the new presence in their loins to care.
That’s the sequence you follow: mindlessly stroking yourself deep into their hot, drenched cunt while fingering the other, back and forth, ignoring the discomfort you feel in both your legs and fingers from this disruptive cycle. Your only regret is not being able to see the twisted expressions in their stained features without a mirror to revel in their perfect, pornographic image, but the chorus of moans accompanied by your flesh slapping against their flesh are more than enough of a validation.
“Going to cum, fuck,” you quietly announce, not wanting to let one seize demand over the other, but their ears catch wind of your little words. They tilt their heads slightly upward, still in the throes of bodily pleasure.
“Please cum for me.”
“Cum inside me, baby.”
Distinct as their voices are, they’re indiscernible to your ears, especially when they’re so husky and strained. Using the last of your strength, you pull out of someone’s pussy, stroke your throbbing cock with your hand, gasping and grunting as you finally let go. Gripping the other hand on someone’s waist, thick streaks of seed stain both girls’ clothes and cheeks, coat reddish spots of pounded flesh, letting it drip down their butt and thighs, to their boots.
The two girls lie motionless on the desk while you cling to their waist, gasping for air, barely holding out after your powerful release. Their legs and ass glow with your freshly coated sheen under the orange lights of the bedroom, and they sparkle brighter than any diamond in the world.
“You okay, sweetheart?” Yujin’s voice brings you back to reality. She’s the first to catch you in her embrace, cheekily smiling.
Unable to muster up the strength to speak, you simply nod, head still spinning.
“Is it okay if I ask you a question?” Wonyoung asks, having unlatched herself from the table to join in the embrace, pecking your cheek with her soft lips. Your eyes glaze over the young beauty in response.
“Whose pussy was better? Mine or hers?”
A question you certainly have no answer to—nor do you have any intention of answering.
“I guess he’s still undecided,” says Wonyoung, turning to her senior, smirking. “Do you know?”
“Nope. I have no idea either.” Yujin’s sweet grin turns into the same, wicked smirk.
Something’s wrong; you can feel it. You feel yourself staggering backward, saved only by their embrace of you. Yujin and Wonyoung kiss and moan into your body while moving you in the direction of the bathroom.
Possession of control swings back in their favor. They have you exactly where they want.
“Only one way to find out.”
—————
(A/N: Holy shit this one was an uphill one to create. I'm not a Wonyoung simp, not in the slightest even after writing this piece, but her SBS Gayo outfit made me feel some kind of way. Then there's Yujin being perfect as always. This is barely my new longest fic, topping out at a little over 12K words, and working on it became a chore at times. I only revisited this universe only because of those outfits and how good they looked together. Thank you for reading!)
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What would a role reversed merman AU scenario be like? And most impotant, what kind of fish species would Hank be? (Not meant as a drawing request or super elaborate essay or anything, I just love reading your ideas ✨️)
I know you said this isn't a drawing/essay request but HOW COULD I RESIST!!!
I am not a fish expert but I like to think of Hank being either a dwarf gourami (for that good ol' in-game symbolism hehe) or a tiger shark, because stripes and big teeth and bad temper. Or maybe he could be some sort of tropical fish that's super vibrant and colourful, yet also deadly (poisonous fin spikes?). Marine biologists please weigh in!!!
Some half-formed unofficial notes:
Hank is more outwardly aggressive towards Kamski and the scientists in comparison to Connor’s cold-shoulder approach. They went through their entire tranquilizer supply in the first few months just to get a handle on the roaring, thrashing beast of a merman, and he’s caused more than a few major injuries amongst their team. Just like Connor, he bares his teeth and resists every time they come to take him for experiments; they have to sedate him from a greater distance and with a much heavier dose than they use for Connor, however.
Hank is a little less malnourished than Connor, but only because he doesn't refuse to eat. He's still thinner and weaker than he would be normally
Connor works the night shift. Not sure if it’s because he has another job during the daytime or if he’s going to school, but either way he manages to catch up on sleep during his breaks. He sacrifices this sleep once he and Hank start growing closer, however.
Hank takes much longer to warm up to Connor than the reverse. He snarls and snaps his teeth whenever Connor gets too close; it takes weeks for Connor to be able to approach the edge of the tank. He has to leave the fresh fish on the deck and back away before Hank will even look at it, ice-blue eyes narrowed with suspicion.
Connor is a bit more hesitant to get close to Hank, but that's only because he's always taken his job seriously and he doesn't like breaking the rules. He can't help but stare in awe whenever the large merman swims by, however, vibrant fins flashing and his muscled body cutting powerfully through the water. It's only when Connor starts noticing the scientists taking Hank away - and his glimpses of Hank's violent resistance - that his curiosity and empathy override his sense of obedience and his desire to make a good first impression.
Because Hank doesn't talk, Connor is given even more of an opportunity than usual to run his mouth. He blabbers away, asking question after question as if Hank could answer, sometimes philosophizing and sometimes talking about nothing at all. Hank tries to tune him out as he eats, but the human is annoyingly persistent. Eventually he grows used to the babble, but only after he starts begrudgingly warming up to the kid.
Because Connor talks so damn much, it's alarming when he goes quiet. Hank initiates contact for the first time by taking off his glasses when he has his breakdown. It's the first time Hank has ever been so close to him.
I think that Hank would still have lost Cole when he was a baby mer; possibly to humans and their trapping practices, giving him even more of a reason to hate them. I'm torn on what Connor's backstory should be, though. Perhaps he lost Nines (to an ocean storm?)? Or maybe it’s post-fight with Amanda and he’s feeling directionless in life, suffocating under the weight of his family’s expectations and feeling like he’s a burden and a disappointment despite everything that he’s achieved? Maybe it’s just a good ol’ panic attack because I love forcing anxiety onto human!Connor (no I’m not projecting what do u mean)
Hank's power and girth take on a whole new light after they’ve grown close. Connor is more distracted during their time together, his stream of chatter faltering uncharacteristically whenever Hank shifts a certain way or rips into a fish easily with his powerful jaws. He swallows when he imagines the full strength of the merman pressing him down against the deck, of Hank dragging him into the water and grazing those razor-sharp teeth along his skin, tail wrapped around his body like a serpent and trapping him in place.
Hank could hold the skinny human down with one hand. He knows he could. He imagines wide dark eyes staring up at him, skin flushed prettily and neat brown hair dripping, wordless for once in his life, and nearly loses his self-control. If they were both mermen, he'd be courting the kid to the ends of the ocean. Or...maybe Connor would be the one wooing him. He's certainly brought him enough fish and stared at his chest and arms enough that any merperson worth their salt would consider it mate-like behaviour. It's a weird cognitive dissonance to be feeling this way about a human, but Connor is — Connor is different. Hank likes Connor; he likes him so much that it's stupid.
#noodle talk#lab merman au#hankcon#dbh#detroit become human#hank x connor#dbh fanart#detroit become human fanart#dbh connor#dbh hank#mermay#glass art#noodle art#i toyed with the idea of making Connor one of the scientists but#that’s a whole other au I think :)#thank you so much for your question I have so many thoughts and I’m glad you like reading about them 😭
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I have to make one more point, because I think it's very important.
The words used in Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs for the cure to her curse are: "Love's First Kiss" not "True Love's Kiss."
It's not "a kiss of love that is the most genuine from your one true soulmate." It's "the long-awaited culmination of giving your heart to someone for the first time."
In modern adaptations, like Once Upon a Time or (the much more forgivable) Enchanted, we change the phrasing so that it's all about this magical idea of soulmates. But in this first cartoon, it makes much more sense to be about a FIRST kiss, not just a kiss from "the most special" someone special.
Snow White is the youngest Disney Princess. Her young age is not hidden or matured like some of the other princesses--she is fourteen, she moves like a little girl, she's drawn with the baby-roundness of a little girl, and she's called "the little princess!" by the only character who is an example of a regular subject in the Kingdom: the Huntsman. So, one) she's very young.
And two) she's totally innocent and pure. Those two traits are all of what Snow White represents in the movie. That's what the Queen really doesn't have: innocent purity. The Queen doesn't want anyone to know she's a wicked witch consumed with herself; that's why all her magical wares are kept in secret catacombs. But like I've said before, Snow White hides nothing about herself--she doesn't need to--she's an open-hearted, innocent child who boldly and sweetly tells everyone that she's wishing for love and has found it in her Prince.
So she's 1) very young and 2) innocent and pure.
All of this makes the most sense for Love's First Kiss, not "True Love's Kiss," for the same reasons that her "being awoken by a kiss without consent" in this story is actually totally correct and right. (Because she already gave her consent when they met; she promised him her her heart by sending a kiss on a dove, and he promised his)
What I'm saying is, the story is about a little, innocent girl's first, pure experience with love. She wishes for love, has a longing for the idea of love, and is even promised love by the Prince but has to wait and wait and wait until that promise is fulfilled.
That's why the song is "Someday" My Prince Will Come. That's why the title of the kiss stresses being her FIRST, not her TRUEST. It's this idea, not if soulmates, but of waiting until the time is right for love.
It's in Song of Solomon. "Do not awaken love until it pleases." In our modern age, we just run around getting as much "experience" with love as we can. With all of that stupid "experience" comes the added need to figure out which experience is the best and truest one: hence, we change the phrase to "True Love's" Kiss.
But classical fairy tales and the Bible knew better. It's not about figuring it out for yourself. It's about waiting patiently and purely until the time is right, not forcing it, and trusting the other person until the commitment is fulfilled. In fact, I hate to even say it, but the Queen convinces Snow White to bite into an apple that is poisoned by telling her it will fulfill her wish—which is for true love—and which, if it had been true, would have been a shortcut to getting her Prince to come.
Anyway, the point is, Snow White is wishing for the One she loves; The Prince has One heart tenderly beating only for her.
Only him fulfilling his promise and carrying her to this suspiciously heaven-like castle can wake her from her sleep.
It's all about a trust placed, a promise fulfilled, a patience rewarded, a purity purifying--not a worth proven.
Love's First Kiss is way better than True Love's Kiss. It's the first kiss that should be the truest, because it was patiently waited for.
#Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs#Snow White#Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs 1937#Snow White 2024#Snow White 1937#Disney#True Love's Kiss#Love's First Kiss#Song of Solomon#Real Disney#waiting
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Masterlist
A/N: This is my Masterlist filled with the stories I have written so far 💕 I will add other fandoms to my list soon but feel welcome to request anyone from lotr or hobbit🤭 I hope you enjoy them as much as I enjoyed writing them!! Also REQUESTS ARE OPEN <33
Fluff: ♡
Angst: ☂
Smut: ☆
The Fellowship:
How they realise their feelings: ♡
Legolas:
Softest Touch: ♡
Summary: After looking at the etheral elven prince, you have the urge to weave your fingers through his silken hair, leading to more than just simple hair braiding.
Music to my ears: ♡
Summary: A trip to the tavern results in you not just winning new fans over with your music, but also winning the heart of a certain elven prince.
Immunity: ♡
Summary: Being sick is not fun, especially when you see Legolas' panicked gaze at your condition, which seems to get worse as the days pass by.
Words like Poison: ☂♡
Summary: Your beloved prince is stressed and busy with his duties. So, when you approach him to try and lighten the mood, he lets his frustration out on you.
Braiding Together: ♡
Summary: You have always received compliments for your cute braids, so you decided to offer the hobbits to braid their hair. However, Legolas really doesn't understand, why you would do that.
Lily: ☂♡
Summary: Being a princess with a gruesome father as a king makes you only wish to run away. So you do and run directly into the arms of an ethereal prince
Blessing: ♡
Summary: The journey of the fellowship ended a long time ago and suddenly you receive the invitation of the prince to join him in Mirkwood, meeting his father. But how will Thranduil react to seeing his sons best friend being a dwarf and his betrothed being an Avari?
Sensitive: ♡☆
Summary: You knew that Legolas could endure quite a lot, but what you did not expect is his reaction to touching his pointy ears
Little Quirks: ♡
Summary: The elven prince for some reason couldn't stop staring at you, which in return made you confused and very curious, as to why his eyes were constantly following you around.
Stormy Patrol: ♡
Summary: Tauriel and you were out on patrol without Legolas. But a storm takes you by surprise, resulting in you getting lost in the dark forest.
Thorin:
A Part From Home: ♡
Summary: Tagging along for an adventure with Gandalf, you didn't expect to run into people that remind you of your lost home.
Part of Your World: ♡
Summary: Little mermaid you finds various little trinkets and things in the waters around Erebor and you can't wait to share them with your s/o.
There's just Inches in between us: ☆♡
Summary: You were the princess of another kingdom, meant to marry none other than the dwarven King Thorin from the lonely mountain. You rarely get the chance to talk to him and decide to visit him the night before the wedding, asking him to give you some attention.
Symphony of Your Life: ♡
Summary: Thorin went to visit his old friend Bilbo in the Shire once more, without expecting to be enchanted by a melodic voice that fills not just his ears but also his heart.
Kili:
Hija de la Luna Series (warnings: none so far):
Prologue; Chapter I
Part of Your World: ♡
Summary: Little mermaid you finds various little trinkets and things in the waters around Erebor and you can't wait to share them with your s/o.
My Treasure: ♡
Summary: You have been travelling the sea for years on your wonderful ship with your crew, so you are a bit curious, when you find a bunch of dwarves hiding away in fish barrels.
Feathers: ♡
Summary: Joining the company on their quest, you knew to expect possible danger on the way. What you did not expect are the feelings between you and the prince.
My Sweet Valentine: ♡
Summary: You spent your morning hours with the wonderful dwarf prince Kili
Fili:
Part of Your World: ♡
Summary: Little mermaid you finds various little trinkets and things in the waters around Erebor and you can't wait to share them with your s/o.
Thranduil:
Bookworm: ☆
Summary: Legolas let the secret of a restricted area in the library slip, which makes you of course very curious. So after deciding to enter the forbidden part, you get caught by none other than the elven king himself.
#one shot#masterlist#smut#x reader#drabble#fem reader#harry potter#the hobbit#lord of the rings#harry potter x reader#the hobbit x reader#lord of the rings x reader#thorin oakenshield#thorin x reader#thorn oakenshield x reader#the hobbit imagine#imagine#thorin#thorin imagine#thorin oakenshield imagine#erebor#erebor imagine#the hobbit fanfic#thorin oakenshield x reader#lotr#thorin x you#the hobbit fic#Thorin Oakenshield#Thorin#The hobbit
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one free one if u want it
Bruce had seen the devastation you could leave in your wake if you lost control. But he knew that was nothing compared to the marks that it left on your soul.
Still.
Setting you lose one a Kryptonite poisoned Clark who was seeing red and watching him writhe on the ground was... interesting. Just once, for research purposes, he'd had you hone in on him. Lash out with all the frustration and turmoil you felt and it was. We frankly it was enough to bring him to his knees. So he could only imagine what you'd done to Clark to drop him- so the league could subdue him quickly and without raising alarm.
"Remind me NOT to piss her off," Dick said whistling.
"She seems pretty calm most of the time," Tim mused.
"Yeah. So calm she'll snap any second," Stephanie observed.
Batman half turned and glanced at Stephanie, frowning, "Something you want to share with the class?"
"Not particularly," Stephanie answered turning away from where you were still staring at the spot where you dropped Clark with a wince. You didn't LIKE hurting people. Especially not people you liked and respected. And she already knew- like everyone else did that you'd be keeping your distance for days.
"Spoiler-"
"Your kid, your talk," Dick reminded. "It's not fair to make us do your dirty work for you."
"Hn."
"Even if you haven't gotten the hang of having girls in the house yet."
"AND you keep trying to make us wear leggings under things that DON'T NEED LEGGINGS."
"And t-shirts over their swim suits," Tim added, "Like they can't just beat people up themselves."
"It's to maintain cover," Bruce reasoned.
"So I'll do it," Dick snorted, "But really. They're supposed to go out and look cute. That's not a look."
Bruce shook his head and looked up towards where you'd finally started to move. Being lead away by Wonder Woman. Dwarfed by her 7ft tall frame. Her grip on you was firm but gentle. And as she lead you closer, he knew you were holding yourself in very tight control. Cords of muscle stood out in your neck and your jaw ticked under the strain. Two years and all he knew for sure is that you were in pain. Always. And that that pain never seemed to stop. It's just that some days you were better at hiding it.
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Maro’s March of the Machine Teaser
Before previews for March of the Machine officially begin, I thought it would be fun to do another of my Duelist-style teasers where I give tiny hints of things to come. Note that I’m only giving you partial information.
First up, here are some things you can expect:
• Numerous cards that mechanically care about Phyrexians
• A double-faced token (one that transforms)
• A card that costs XUUUU
• A variant of a mechanic returns to a premier set for the second time since it originally appeared
• A legendary creature returns not seen since Homelands
• A creature capable of dealing eleven poison counters
• Some planes show up in card names that have never done so before
• Wrenn returns with a new partner
• Two draft archetypes that have a creature type matters component (one of which is Phyrexians - see above)
• The tenth _____ & _____ sword
Next, here are some rules text that will be showing up on cards:
• “You may cast spells with flash or flying from the top of your library.”
• “an Aura, God or Demigod card”
• “where X is the excess damage dealt this way.”
• “This spell can’t be copied.”
• “Activate only if you’ve cast two or more spells this turn.”
• “Each player can’t cast more than one non-Phyrexian spell each turn.”
• “X twice, where X is the number of lands you control.”
• “Whenever a permanent you control transforms or a permanent enters the battlefield under your control transformed,”
• “If the opponent protects it, remove a defense counter from it.”
• “At the beginning of your upkeep, if you haven’t been dealt combat damage since your last turn, you draw a card and you lose 1 life.”
Finally, here are some Phyrexians in the set:
• Creature – Phyrexian Bear Rhino
• Creature – Phyrexian Devil
• Creature – Phyrexian Dog Warrior
• Creature – Phyrexian Jackal
• Creature – Phyrexian Samurai
• Creature – Phyrexian Shade
• Creature – Phyrexian Shark
• Creature – Phyrexian Treefolk
• Creature – Phyrexian Viashino
• Creature – Phyrexian Weird
And some creature type lines of denizens fighting them:
• Creature – Moonfolk Ninja
• Creature – Aetherborn Vampire
• Creature – Fungus Rabbit
• Creature – Dwarf Pilot
• Creature – Raccoon Warrior
• Creature – Goblin Spellshaper
• Creature – Wolverine Dinosaur
• Legendary Creature – Elder Giant Dog
• Legendary Creature – Ape Dinosaur Turtle
• Legendary Creature – Cyclops Homunculus
For answers to these and more, tune into March of the Machine’s Debut March 29th at 9:00 am on YouTube and Twitch.
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Imagine being a nymph in Mirkwood
(Inspiration from an imagine I once saw and after reading the hobbit. A lovely story and I finally get why the movies got the bad hype. I don't think the movies were bad, but if they had gone with the book version they would have been ten times more interesting)
Warnings: Mentions of sick forest, getting attacked by spiders, poisoned by spiders and Gandalf being a bit of a gremlin, and not helping the elves when they need the help the most.
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- Your appearance and presence have always perplexed the elves of Mirkwood
- You just came and decided to live in the most dangerous parts of their woods, where sickness and darkness reigned over everything that lived there.
- The elves took you for a spy or a lost traveler, so they tried to capture you, yet somehow you always escaped or disappeared before they could even arrive to the scene like you knew they were coming or hiding in the trees.
- They never even had the chance to look at you since you always wore a hood over your face, so they couldn't even conclude if you were a human or even an elf. You were too tall to be a dwarf, and by chance– one of the scouts managed to catch a glimpse of your hands, which weren’t clawed or covered in rough skin, so you weren’t an orc.
- When they failed to capture you or find you several times, they decided to leave you be since– capturing you proved to be too much of a challenge and since you didn’t appear to mean any harm to the forest or the animals. On the contrary, you seemed to have a curing effect on the forest.
- To their surprise and confusion, green healthy grass and wildflowers began to grow in the sickened parts of their woods. The trees gave way to sunlight, making the forest more brighter. The rivers that used to be black and enchanted with terrible spells have loosened their power and become more clear. The air also seemed to taste much sweeter wherever you went.
- The elves of Mirkwood began to wonder and conclude if you were a spirit of sorts, wandering and healing the forest with your presence and touch. They desired an answer but couldn't since you always ran away whenever they tried to approach you, even if they did not mean any harm to you.
- One day, you became more mysterious when they heard delicate singing through the forests. It was pleasant and something they had never heard before. By chance, they managed to capture the sight of you dancing beneath the trees with animals by your side, singing from the core of your heart.
- It was so joyful that the elves did not dare to disturb you and watched in wonder how even the trees began to move and hum with your voice.
- Flowers grew along with your steps, and the sickness that once plagued the trees vanished, bringing them back to life and blooming with green leaves. It was now clear to the elves that you were no ordinary wanderer who sang and danced beneath their trees. Even the great spiders that lived above the trees cursed the effects of your song and left somewhere else, emanating great hate toward your presence. It was beyond wonderous.
- However, you still ran away by the sight of them like a startled deer. You ran faster and swiftly like a fox. Before the elves could even call out to you, you were gone like the wind, leaving no trace of where you could have gone.
- It confused and deeply saddened the elves since it seemed you were fearful of them. It left them wondering about your coming to their woods and if you had faced terrible things outside.
- The elves left you be whenever you appeared again to either dance or sing to the forest, healing the sickly woods.
- Some desired to find you or even take a peek beneath your hood to see your face, but their king ordered not to go after you or disturb you since you had such power over the darkness and the sickness in their woods.
-One time, when the spiders had overcome a scouting party, a fight ensued, and many were injured. When one of their own was taken by the spiders and nearly killed, you appeared, running fast and with your hand enchanting the trees to protect the elf.
- The spiders ran away when your voice broke through the air like an arrow, singing power that scared them away.
- The elves were startled by the display of their trees attacking the spiders before trying to find their own and finding their kin treated by you.
- You were kneeling beside the wounded elf, softly singing to them. The power of your song allowed flowers to grow around you and heal the elf from the spider’s poison. You waited with the elf till their kin arrived before disappearing into the woods again.
- For saving one of their own, they felt grateful and gained an answer when they heard the spiders curse your presence and call you ‘a half blood’ and ‘an accursed nymph’ during their escape. They were words they had never heard before till later they learned what they meant when someone decided to investigate.
- You were a nymph, one of the ancient spirits that were long extinct due to great devastation and darkness thousands of years ago—or a half nymph to be exact since the spiders called you a half-blood.
- The news were received with great surprise and wonder as not even the oldest of their elves do not remember much of the nymphs, except that they were great caretakers of woods and plants.
- One day, when the gray wizard Gandalf came for a visit, they learned your name and identity from him. You were a child born out of a union between a nymph and a human, and he had sent you here where you would be safe and more in tune with your nature.
- He had hoped you would have found a home among them, but he seemed to have overestimated your timid nature since you still avoided contact with the elves.
- The elves were delighted by the new information, but before they could ask Gandalf for some instructions on how to communicate with you because just like he came, he left with an amused laugh to continue his journey.
- He simply told them they would find a way or you would eventually come to them yourself.
- It was troublesome, but they found one way to communicate with you by leaving gifts in the forests. They mostly left fruits and food since you left the gifts you didn’t like untouched. In return, you also leave gifts for them such as herbs and stones they might appreciate.
- The elves were happy and surprised since your gifts were rare herbs and stones they didn’t think could be found in Mirkwood. They didn’t complain though, and the little gift exchanging turned into a little tradition.
- The elves sometimes took the chance to sing with you whenever they heard your songs. Sometimes you sang along, and sometimes you simply stopped and ran away.
- The elves tried leaving letters for you along with the gifts, trying to tell you that you were welcomed to their kingdom if you only came to them. You mostly didn’t answer except one time you replied, telling you preferred living in the woods.
- The elves of Mirkwood tried many times to get you to come to them, but eventually, they decided to let fate bring you to them when the time came. They did continue their little traditions with you, their strange little neighbor.
#nymph reader#mirkwood elves#elves x reader#mirkwood#middle earth x reader#middle earth#hobbit#tolkien#silmarillion x reader#mirkwood imagines#middle earth imagines
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Welcome to Bagginshield Week 2024! DATES & PROMPTS
First things first, sorry for the slight delay!
All of the elements of this event (dates, extra posting days, prompts) have been voted for by participant or people interested in it, with the sole exception of one of the prompts for Day 7, and the specific dates of the week (the vote fell on the side of "second half of June").
Event Dates & Prompts
June 24: Role Reversal/The Shire Falls Instead + Bilbo is the Thain/Is a Royal
June 25: Thorin in The Shire + Developping Relationship
June 26: Soulmates/Soulmate Marks AU + Dwarf Culture
June 27: Bookshops & Libraries + Khuzdul Language
June 28: Canon Divergence (gen.) + Hairbeads/Beads in general
June 29: Single Parents/Uncles AU + Gardening
June 30: Gothic Horror AU + Sky/Storms
Regular Alternate Prompts:
Alpha/Beta/Omega AU - Mythology AU (gen.) - Fire/Smoke - Enemies to Lovers, or Enemies to Allies to Lovers - Secret Relationship
Whump Alternate Prompts:
"I thought I had lost you" - Gold Sickness - Hurt/Comfort - Fake Death/Believed to be Dead - Hidden Injury
The event consists of seven regular posting days, for which there are be two distinct but easily relatable prompts per day, and two sets of alternate prompts with five prompts each (one is for regular prompts and the other is for "whump" tropes). On top of that there will be two extra days for you to post your works right at the end of the week (you can post the very first chapter of your work on either day and then finish it some other time, no problem!).
You can also mix and otherwise use prompts however way you want: maybe you want to go about it the traditional way and pick one prompt for each day, or close to it and only switch one of them for an alternate; or you can take a Day 5 prompt, a regular alternate, and cap it off with a whump trope and post that for Day 1. Pick your poison!
Have a great time, and see you around!
P.S.: friendly reminder I'll be reblogging/posting things like references from here until the event takes place! Let me know if there's anything you might be looking for and I'll try t help <3
#bagginshield#thilbo#thilbo week#thilboweek24#Bilbo Baggins#Thorin Oakenshield#Thorin II#The Hobbit#Fandom#Fandom Event#JRR Tolkien
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Ok, hear me out:
Kratos, after the events of the Valhalla DLC, is sleeping peacefully in his home, until someone knocks on his door.
"I didn't know who else to go to." says Thor.
Thor, who had ascended to a higher existence after being killed by his father, rejected that existence and decided to live another live. He wanted to be better for his family, but he didn't want to return to them the way he was. He wanted to change first. So he went to the one person who knew how.
Kratos tells Thor about his past and he realizes that if Kratos can change then so can he.
"You kid is lucky." Thor says. "I hope mine can be as lucky as yours one day."
Kratos decides to take him to Valhalla as a start. An opportunity provided to Thor by Odin's betrayal.
Kratos goes to Lunda in the realm between realms and gets a mace and shield for Thor like the ones Modi had. On his way out of the house, Ratatoskr asks Kratos for a favor and says he'll reward him with materials. Kratos asks for another reward instead. For bitter squirrel to be Thor's partner in Valhalla. Kratos believed the similarities between them would make Thor feel at ease.
Kratos, Mimir and Thor, with much conversation between the three on the boat, go to the same shore and after much trouble, convince Freya to help them and not tell anyone. Especially Sif and Thrud.
"Well, at least with Odin gone, there's no one for him to serve. We could make good use of-" Freya says
"No." Kratos cuts her off. "He is Odin's monster no longer, and he will not be ours. To help us or not is your choice."
Freya sighs "I'm only doing it for you, you know."
"Thank you, Freya."
"Of course."
Thor, with bitter as a partner, tackles Valhalla.
Many obstacles stand in his way: The fact that he simply isn't a disciplined warrior, but a fat dude swinging a hammer, and the new weapons are something he isn't used to. The years of trauma inflicted on him by Odin. The death of his mother which he blames himself for. His refusal to embrace the Johtunar part of himself. His refusal to think and feel.
He tries and fails for many months. He lives with Kratos and Mimir and they get to know eachother better. He has Kratos train him, and eventually, with the help of Kratos, Mimir, Tyr, Freya and surprisingly bitter who turned out to be a better companion for Thor than Kratos could ever for, Thor manages to come to terms with his past, and finally battles Tyr and wins.
However, as soon as he peeks at what's behind the door, he quits. He decides that he doesn't wanna try anymore. Everyone else is wondering why, but Kratos knows why. He knows what's behind that door, or rather who.
Modi.
Killing his son. Thor could could never come to terms with that. It took Kratos over a hundred years to heal from that.
He goes to the spot where Modi died to remember his son. He looks above, and he is caught by the last thing he wished to be caught by.
Jormungandur.
He battles it, but due to not having his hammer, and the poison being his weakness, he loses and is knocked unconscious.
He wakes up a bed, wrapped in bandages. It wasn't Kratos's home, or any he'd ever known. The little boy sitting on the edge of the bed greets him. He has red hair darker than his and doesn't look older than three winters. His mother, a dwarf woman, tends to Thor and tells him that her husband saved him and to rest while her husband hunts for food. He tries to decline and just leave, but he can barely walk two steps.
Thor complies, and stays in bed.
He finds out that he is in a magical forest. Those unwanted and shunned by their own people come here to escape. Some dwarves, some giants, some Aseir, Vanir and many others, and that the forest is hidden by her husband's magic, and that he insisted on bringing him here.
Bedridden Thor occasionally talks to the boy and bonds with him. He finds out that the boy has giant blood in him, and works out that his father is a giant or at least has giant blood. No wonder his father never wanted to meet him.
The GiantSlayer he was would strike fear in any giant. He was nowhere near being better. His progress didn't matter to these people. but then why did he save him? That didn't matter as well. As soon as he gets better, he's leaving. It's better this way.
One day, he woke up at sunrise and found that no one was home. He found that he could walk and decided to just leave. He made his way through the forest, but it was a labyrinth. He found himself lost. It must be the father's magic. The excited laughter of the boy playing with his father and mother echoed through the forest. He wanted to thank them and say goodbye to the boy. He followed their voices. The boy was playing hide and seek with his father. It sounded like the boy was the seeker and his father was winning.
The father's voice was familiar. His heart grew heavy as he got closer to the source of the voice.
"It can't be." He whispered to himself.
He reached them, and the sight of the father struck him like a thousand lightning bolts.
Modi.
-Think I should continue this fic?
#god of war ragnorak#god of war ragnarok#god of war#gow ragnarok#kratos#gowr#god of war ragnarok valhalla#Thor#Modi#Mimir#Freya#Gow fanfic#Thor odinson#Odin
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DESTROYING ANGELS. jade leech
It screams in your head. A siren. An eagle. A sick, diseased, morbid raven yelling and yelling: housewarden, housewarden, housewarden, it caws at you. With Vil Schoenheit's third year coming to an end, you hold the ambition to become housewarden, if even only for a measly year.
But when struck with the visage of Vil's overblot, you doubt your efforts and turn to a deal with a truly odious individual.
tags: rival relationship, blood and injury, mental breakdown, developing relationship, poisoning, pomefiore (twst), gentle kissing, happy valentine’s day!!
word count: 24,883
For what was an immeasurable time, you again scrubbed the fifteen second clip back to the beginning. At this point, Si and Am — your dormmates — have already left the library to attend class. You told them you would catch up, but reflexively your thumb drags the red dot to the left. You said you would catch up perhaps five minutes ago.
As the clip starts, you watch it like it has pierced both your eyes with hooks and is cranking you back into the boat. You have to watch it again and again, pause at mark 00:05, mark 00:13, mark 00:10. And it is not even enjoyable.
You are transfixed like someone watches a person burning in the backyard get-together, morbidly interested yet disconnectedly anguished.
The quality is mediocre at best. The recorder, one of the dwarf children or a random attendant, had a faulty grip on his phone. Perhaps, you should give them some credit. Running for your life would make a video appear blurry as found footage films, but … you scrub back to the beginning, Sevens couldn’t they have just stood still for a fucking second!
The grip around your phone tightens immensely and your case crackles. At this point, the screams and pleads on the loop are like trickling sand. You hold your thumb by the pause button, waiting and waiting until there!
Instantly, your glumness vanishes. Your eyes break the limits of human anatomy and widen even further to soak in all of the image. You screenshot it six times.
On your phone is the countenance of Vil Schoenheit in his overblot form. Black lips open wide into a yelling shout. The lace and insignia of blot indented onto crystal white skin. Golden peacock feathers cutting into the sky and forming Mary’s halo around his head. And most importantly, the symbol of every overblot, wisps of violet curling and pulsing off the campfire that is Vil’s fiery eye. The only recorded video of your housewarden’s overblot saved onto your phone after pulling so many strings and calling up so many connections.
And you should be happy; you have that image; you could do whatever you please with it and ruin Vil Schoenheit. But, gathering up your paperwork, all you feel is envious.
Storming out the library, you mourn that if you overblot, it will never be as magnificent as the one your housewarden has achieved.
You are not as skilled in cloak and dagger activities as your vice-housewarden is. Those observation skills of yours left something to be desired. Plus, your lack of companionship did not stem from a need for secrecy (like many other students) but rather a practical desire to complete your goal. Being isolated should have left you with plenty of time to practice espionage-esque skills. You guess you have wrongly judged that you were at least subtle in your staring, because as you go to tap Jade Leech on his shoulder, both of you walking down the hallways, he says without even turning his back, “twenty-seven.”
You quickly withdraw your finger from the space inches near his shoulder as if an animal you were petting had opened its maw. You shrink back as Jade Leech stops in the middle of flowing school traffic and turns around. The impression he cuts through the current is odious. “I’m sorry?”
“You have stared at me this week on twenty-seven different occasions. I was wondering if you were going to reach thirty before you said anything to me.”
His smile is odious too. Ah, how terrifying he is to look at. You deflate at his words then attempt to puff right back up again. All that false confidence you had been building up this whole week was meant for this, “I was hoping that I could trouble you for setting up a meeting with housewarden Ashengrotto. At his earliest convenience?”
“I see,” Jade Leech says, reaching a gloved hand up to his chin. “But would it not be more optimizing if you were to come directly to Azul with this. Of course, I can pass on the word to him.”
Okay, this is it. As a last ditch intimidation method, your instincts make you stand up straighter. You spent all week preparing for this. Be honest; Jade Leech will never reveal his hand but as the applicant, you will need to reveal yours. And you know this conversation will not reach housewarden Ashengrotto if it does not manage to interest his vice-housewarden.
“Because the deal I want doesn’t involve Azul; it's a deal between both me and you.”
You find yourself in the VIP room before the day is out.
You are almost dizzy with the speed that things were commencing. Stress had been intimately stitched into your uniform as you spent the last week. A week spent staring at Jade Leech – apparently twenty-seven times – and trying to deduct how to talk to him. The same day you approach is the same day you get into Ashengrotto’s office. Yes, you certainly feel whiplashed by the turn of events.
The lilac straw in your mouth has definitely known kinder customers. Halfway done with the sunset-hued drink Floyd Leech presented you with, you occupy yourself with gnawing on the straw. You need a way to relax and were appreciative of the drink. It is a good drink, a mixture of pineapple and orange juice with grenadine. Nothing else, though you had tasted around for a hint of any poison, and you were good at –
“(Name),” Azul says and you quickly set down your drink. “I was told this was an imperative matter, so I am wholly interested in how Octavinelle can provide for you. After all, I don’t believe you have ever graced Mostro Lounge with your presence before.”
You narrow your eyes slightly at the orange foam in your glass. Why did he make it sound like you kept him waiting? When you were the one waiting for twenty minutes at least as he did paperwork, trying to avoid eye contact with the Leech twins seated across from you. Forget it, do not be intimidated. Looking up, you puff your throat and start.
“Housewarden Ashengrotto, I want to make a contract with you. I–”
“Well, yes, most individuals at Night Raven College do. However, Jade informed me this was a matter that did not involve myself.” Azul is still busying himself with shuffling papers as if you are an impediment.
“The contract,” you swallow hard. “The contract would not involve me and you. I require nothing from you except a contract that would ensure that both me and the other signer will provide the agreed upon terms. It would involve Jade Leech and myself.”
You receive no response from Azul. He is scribbling on a paper with his fishbone pen. You send a quick glance across the table to the twins – bad idea, you quickly turn back to Azul who is peering at you bored over his glasses. Your words are not entertaining enough. “I want to know if this type of contract is possible with your signature spell before I reveal my hand.”
“Dear, anything is possible with the Sea Witch’s spirit of benevolence. But, you are the applicant here and I am no mind reader. So, please, indulge my ears and tell me your worries, your struggles, and your troubles.” He waves one hand in a gesturing stroke then returns to writing.
“In exchange for what I’m asking, I’ll offer you my life and freedom, my possessions, and all my magic.”
The VIP room’s atmosphere shifts at your words. The bubble of indifference is pricked with a needle. Fishbone pen clattering, Azul snaps his head up to you so fast that his glasses tilt on his face. Cool cerulean eyes brim up with a destructive interest. In the corner of your vision, Floyd’s restful shoes suddenly slip off the glass table and are replaced by his slamming hands. Underneath the glass, three koi fish swam agitated at the weight. The courteous smile has slipped off Jade’s features and he is staring at you. Are his eyes glowing? No matter, his already perfect posture has already begun to straighten more.
You pick up the glass that Floyd had rattled and sip the drink. The knowledge that you had definitely secured the usage of Azul’s signature spell sends a warmth through you that you need to cool with an orange, iced beverage.
“HAHAHAHA,” Floyd shrieks excitedly. “Pufferfishy is so exciting! Aren’t they, Jade!” Jade mumbles his agreement that this is quite unexpected as his twin continues laughing, thoroughly amused.
When you reach the bottom of your foamy drink, Azul is done fixing his glasses. “Well, that is certainly unexpected collateral. Are you perhaps desperate, (Name)? Such heavy words.” But he is already summoning a contract in his right hand. Golden luster drips off and shadows him a canary yellow gleam. He starts to scribble on that instead.
“I am not desperate,” you state. It is a true statement. Despite what your collateral is, not an ounce of this is desperation, despite everything an outsider might believe.
“An-And what would you require from Jade,” Azul asks, his hand rapid with his writing. His voice makes you inclined to believe Azul would be willing to sell Jade Leech for anything you had to ask for. Good, you think, you need to make them more willing to your whims than vice versa. You start to describe what you want from this contract.
“I need someone, not from Pomefiore, who still possesses knowledge of poison. My options were five students from Octavinelle and Scarabia who excelled in potionology, Jade Leech was one of them. If I picked any of the other four, they could have easily betrayed me or sold my research. Jade Leech has both a knowledge of fungi poisons and oceanic poisons with a minimal understanding on land and magic poisons too. Divus Crewel even sings his praise.
“To become Pomefiore’s housewarden, I need to make the most potent poison. I need to win this upcoming summer exam above all else. Working with someone from Pomefiore could compromise me. I am leagues ahead of my peers but,” but I even fall into self doubt “but even I know when I am running into a deadend, of sorts. I need another pair of eyes to help me find that exit.
“If Jade Leech is willing to help me both make and test a variety of poison, then I will sign this contract. If I fail to become Pomefiore’s housewarden, then I forfeit my entire life to anyone in this room. My magic and all my servitude is one of yours.”
There is it, terms laid out plainly. You silently watch the way the trio reacts to this information. Really, you try to focus your attention on Jade without losing eye contact with Azul. His interest is definitely piqued. If something catches the eel-mer’s scrutiny, he is sure to go into it wholeheartedly, yes? You wish you could read people better, it has never been your speciality.
“Such a streep price. Your entire life?” A dangerous firecracker glint passes over Azul’s eyewear. “Perhaps, I can have you working for Mostro Lounge indefinitely. After all, the Octavinelle dorm is where you originally belo-”
“Don’t. Don’t bring that up.”
He is not sorry but still says, “Of course, my apologies. So, the assistance of my vice-housewarden is what you desire, dear student. Well, I cannot help but ask Jade what he thinks of this arrangement.”
“Wait. I want to add a clause to this contract.” Surprise molds Azul’s lips in a pout, but he still tells you to continue. “If I feel – for any reason – that Jade is becoming an obstacle to me becoming Pomefoire’s housewarden, I can invoke a rescission of the contract. And the other party will need to accept that.”
Azul’s face starts to mold like prodded clay at your verbal addendum. His eagerness is ruefully gone from his motions. Octavinelle’s housewarden gains control of himself and starts to realize he will need to actually negotiate. You are not as easy to blindside as others. He spits out two sentences as if they are tar in his mouth. “A clause that would terminate the contract, hm? And all under your jurisdiction.”
“Well, that simply won’t do,” Jade says and you finally get to look at him. You meant what you said earlier, he is terrifying to look at. There is always something wolfish in his features, perhaps his eyes or teeth, but he always looks eager to tear everything apart if given the order. A thudding and pounding box with a thousand belts and locks twined around it. That is the only image you can compare his guise to.
“What if I am benevolently doing all I can to help you complete your poison? Providing my knowledge on both fungi and oceanic poisons. Yet,” his eyes shimmer here “your shortcomings are making you fail. I can only aid so much. Or what if you come to regret this contact and purposefully try to fail? You would be wasting my time.”
You puff and challenge back, “And what if you are not being so benevolent, Leech? What if you are trying to sabotage me at every turn so I do not become a housewarden? I need to plan for every angle and make sure I am not vulnerable.”
“So little trust. Do you really think me so villainous, little Pufferfish?”
“The very thought of me purposely sabotaging myself is ludicrous. The thought of you pulling subtle strings is not so far-fetched. I have offered too gracious a price on my end.”
“Yet, all the same, here you are offering it. Are you sure you do not wish to retract what you said about being desperate?”
“A desperate person would never add a clause.”
“Perhaps, this is true but –”
“You two, enough of this banter,” Azul cuts in.
Huh? You were not bantering. You were discussing contract terms. The back of your neck grows hot as Jade smirks, just a few feet from you, separated by koi fish and table legs. Neither of you noticed that you were leaning into each other, biting, until Azul stopped the argument. Still, “my apologies, housewarden Ashengrotto,” you should always remain on a housewarden’s good side as a student at Night Raven College – that was one of your philosophies.
“Jade is right. You could dip out of this contact all under the guise that Jade is halting your progress when it is really you have reached the limits of your ability. Not that I doubt your ability, but human nature requires failure.”
You weigh all of this. Getting this clause added onto the contract was never going to be easy, this you anticipated. The allurement of forfeiting your life was what you had originally hoped would entice them. Maybe you spoke in the wrong order, said too little or said too much. Still, you were here and needed to find a way to cement this clause’s spot on that golden contract.
You glance at your empty glass … perhaps you should, no perish the thought. Intimidation is sure to never work in the Octavinelle dorm and you will surely be thrown out.
“Trust. You said I had little of it. That is true; I have little trust for anyone truly, Leech.” You stare down at the swimming koi fish. Turning to Azul, “If I tell Jade the reason that he is an obstacle to me, and he agrees, then I would like our contract terminated. Ultimately, Jade Leech would be in charge if I choose to end our arrangement.”
A little bit of your free-will; you calculate that you can afford to lose a little bit of that. As far as you were concerned, you could trust Azul Ashengrotto and Jade Leech as far as you could throw them. As soon as you were out of their sight, they would be conspiring to find a way to ensure your failure. However, with a more trained mind when it comes to poison, you should be able to safely squeeze what you need from that slippery eel.
“My, such an angry expression. Do you really trust us so little?” Slippery eel, slippery eel, slippery eel.
Azul smiles as he waves his magic pen over the contract, words shifting to his whim. “Do try to not look so constipated, dear. It’s a bad look. Perhaps, Octavinelle can teach you to conceal your emotions if you need assistance there too.”
With a bit of heat on your neck, you do your best to school your expressions. Your features just leap back to revealing your mind, shock overtaking at Azul’s next words. “Oh, and I will be adding my own clause that Jade will have to assist you benevolently or the contract will find itself void.”
One last time, the entire VIP room’s atmosphere shifts. Shock has already started to color the two eel-mers’ expressions. Floyd leans over his brother's shoulder and lets out an annoyed, “huuuh?” Jade, trying to keep his polite façade, has placed a hand upon his heart. His mouth is twitching and you envision one of those belts or locks around his convulsing box exploding off. “Azul –” Jade starts but Floyd ends, “Azul, that’s totally unfair.”
Honestly, it is the most fair part of the contract, but you keep your mouth shut, worried that you could get the clause removed with the wrong words. Then comes the devastating part. Azul, who has seemingly finished the contract, stands up from his desk.
“Come now, after November, we all promised to be more accommodating in our contracts. We have to do our duty to uphold the virtues of the Sea Witch such as (Name) here will uphold the unrelenting efforts of the Beautiful Queen.
“However, benevolence is subjective person to person. Of course, the clause will be dependent on what Jade considers benevolent. His definition of it might be different from mine, his brother, or your own. But it will still be there,” here, he places the contract in your hand, paper feeling like a dumbbell “a safety net for you to use in your judgment, if needed.
“You’ve always been interesting. Thus, we all do expect great things from you. One way or another.”
If you were not in competition for the spot of Pomefiore's housewarden, your strong affection for chemicals, venomous things, and poison would have been concerning — to say the least.
At least that was what Jade deducts, watching you whip around the private lab in Pomefiore’s dorm. He had observed you in Crewel’s class and botanical gardens. This you is on another level of enthusiasm. Plucking all the supplies you need from storage, you are ablaze with a passion that almost seems to swallow up your entire being.
Passion can intimidate others. Jade knew for himself as his relationship with mushrooms did cause a few shudders, and Azul and Floyd were sadly unenthusiastic to share in it. You know all the cracks in the floor, all the loose cabinet shelves, and all the chipped flasks to avoid that an inexperienced student might pick up and use. Observing this, Jade thinks your fiery strides must be equal to his when he is able to embark on his hikes. Fluorescent energy beating hard under skin. How truly entertaining.
Supplies cradled to your chest, you scramble over the table and start to place your third trip of supplies down one by one. Jade sits patiently. Too engrossed in your element, you had avoided conversing besides telling him joyful, when you two entered, that one rarely gets to see Pomefiore’s lab without being enrolled in the dorm. Since then, unfortunately your attention has been away from him.
This contract better not be going to waste.
Bunsen burner, two volumetric flasks, heavy duty gloves. Once done setting them down, you start gliding away, stars in your eyes, to go pick up more things. Jade sends a spectacle look to the supplies. Will you cover every inch of the table with tools?
As you lean down into a cabinet, Jade calls out, “So, enlighten me on what the requirements our poison must meet. There must be rules that I am unaware of.”
You puff up. Bewildered eyes met his gentlemanly gaze. He resists the chuckle in his throat; did you perhaps forget that he was here, waiting for you? Shaking off your confusion, you straighten your posture and start speaking like a professor giving their favorite lecture.
“To become the housewarden of Pomefiore, one must be able to create the most potent poison among their peers. It is graded upon presentation, name, and the effectiveness of the poison. The poison can be presented in a variety of forms: food, liquid, a smear-like jam, a breathable substance, a cosmetic item, etcetera.”
You recite this as if you are reciting your full name for an interview, as if it is something you have known since birth. The passion in your voice is firm. “But to me, all of that is meaningless.”
Jade’s eyebrow twitches up at this. “Meaningless? Then why sign a contract?”
“No, not meaningless. It is all,” you snap your fingers, searching for a word. “It is unimportant because I will be creating a poison that can stop an elephant or dragon’s heart in a second. Presentation, name, who needs it. We should focus on the effectiveness, nothing else.”
Finally locating what you needed from the cabinet, you stand up with it huddled to your chest. A large jar with a sloshing black liquid inside. You unclip your magestone from your breast pocket.
Accelerating towards Jade is another lab table that collides with one he is already seated at. He blinks once in shock and then folds all his other thoughts into the crisper of his cold mind. Disappointment iced over him. Turning, Jade is met with a grin quite like his own when scheming.
Oh!
Gratitude fills his mind, dethawing his previous frost.
He knew that canceling the meetings from yesterday to get you into the VIP room would be worth it. Even if Azul did try to stab back at Jade by making him promise that he would act benevolent, you would be worth it.
Besides, isn’t he always on his best behavior?
Matching your expression, Jade says, “A poison that can kill a dragon?”
Jade had yet to attend one of these exams for becoming Pomefiore’s housewarden. They were hosted in the auditorium and a professor used simulacrum spells to conjure up creatures at the student’s request. Truthfully, Jade had been uninterested because you were not attending.
Your first year you made it stone clear what your goal was and pivoted away from distractions (friends). Despite your goal, you did not attend last year’s summer exam. You know that you did not attend because you were aware no one was going to beat your current housewarden. Jade thinks it was because you had given up. But, right now, he is glad you have not grown so boring after two years of observing.
“The record for poisoning a fabricated dragon is two weeks. That was set by Professor Crewel his first year, yes? How much do you plan to cut that record by? Three days or two days?”
“I hope the poison will claim its life by the fifty-nine minute mark.”
Huh? “Surely, you are exaggerating.”
You give no verbal answer, wearing such a wicked grin. You wave your magestone in a diagonal cut. On the lab table that had joined yours, multiple bottles string up like flowers or mushrooms. Seven … no, nine bottles, all labeled with a skull with a tiny halo over its head.
“No. I am a Pomefiore student. I will always strive to be the best of the best.”
Sevens, you are electrifying. Your energy billows up like a balloon, pushing at the latex and straining to pop. All that static and shocking was enticing to watch. Up close though? It seems to Jade that he will get burned if he does not navigate you carefully and that lovely risk is everything to him.
“Now then,” you clap and interrupt Jade’s train of thought, taking your seat beside him. “I am versed in flowers and chemicals. Mushrooms and toxicities in the sea, I know the basics … That’s where you come and benevolently assist me.”
Despite your grimace at asking for assistance, you are fixated on the eel-mer, waiting to eagerly absorb information. Jade, whose atypical interests were rarely seen as interesting, grows a bit warm at the intense look you are directing towards him.
“Well, I suppose I should give you what you want. As per contractual agreement.” Jade unclips his magic pen from his breast-pocket.
With a flourish of his own magestone, three terrariums neatly stack in the empty space in front of you two. “Pick one.”
You study them all individually and then compare them too. At bottom, brown mushrooms with ringlets of soft white poking through like stretch-marks or slicing scars. A little intriguing but not as much as the middle. Bright orange mushrooms, thin like chips or leaves, are piled onto each other and rest on wet pieces of tree bark. Those are a beauty but ultimately you go with ones in the top terrarium.
Their look is wholly boring and uninteresting. Dull olive green caps and shaped like the typical mushroom is, they intrigue you. There is something so energizing about being near poisons. However, there is something life-changing about sinking your teeth into a cocoon of masquerading innocence, only for the bitter taste of something dangerous to pierce your tongue.
You turn to Jade, Monsieur Mastermind as your vice-housewarden calls him, and point to the top terrarium. “What are these ones?”
“These ones actually cause the majority of poisonings in Twisted Wonderland.” With a wave, the other two terrariums disappear. Jade leans in to lift off the lid, explaining, “They’re called amanitas due to the shape. But the translated names are death cap, death angel, or destroying angels.” He pulls one out, not the smallest of the bunch but the largest either.
“Destroying angels are naturally deceitful. They appear like the common mushroom, the same color and shape. The indicator is the vulva. Other than that, they hide in plain sight and kill those not careful enough to understand them. There is such beauty in that … a dull appearance hiding such violent intentions.”
You cannot help but agree vehemently with him, nodding along. All of his entire explanation felt like it related more to simple mushrooms. It was like a principle of attraction in life.
You look at the remaining ones in the terrarium and ask, “the side effects?”
“First, stomach cramps, loose bowels, and vomiting. Next, it might damage the liver and kidney to irreversible measures. Lastly, cell death or damage of the central nervous system.”
“Amatoxin poisoning. That can kill a person in only two days.”
“Just twenty-one milligrams of amatoxin in the body is fatal. That is perhaps,” Jade suddenly leans into his terrarium and grabs the second smallest, “the amount found in a small one like this. Three bites and you’re facing Death.”
You are exhilarated at the information, staring at the two destroying angels pinched in Jade’s gloved hands. Do they seep through the pie crust of skin, you wonder excitedly. “Are these the deadliest ones in your collection?”
“If I’m comparing a single species to another single species, then yes. Destroying angels alone are more poisonous than any others I know.”
“Good. We start with this one.” You cast a look over to the porcelain bottles. All nine of your prototypes for what you wanted to use in the summer exam sitting neatly there. “There is a variety to test and so little time. And if amatoxin will enhance,” you start to ramble off, mumbles that Jade’s hearing cannot pick up. Suddenly, you are grabbing from the stack of papers and scribbling. Once more, you have completely forgotten Jade is here with you. Though it is nice to watch the crackles of fire alit from you, the Leech brother would rather have your attention.
He leans in, nose almost brushing your shoulder. Still enraptured with your work, it seems.
Jade is a little unsure if this will work. Nicknames are his twin’s territory but he did know that you get disgruntled when hearing the nickname. Probably only because it came from an Octavinelle student, people you did not want to grow close to. But no matter because Jade is growing awfully close to you. Once that distance is closed, he says far too loudly, “Pufferfish.”
You leap and drop your pencil. Huffing and puffing, you turn in your seat. An accusatory glare and scowl battles with Jade’s smile.
“You seem to have forgotten our contract involves collaboration, Pufferfish. You did read it thoroughly, yes?”
You send a glance down to your paper, bewildered by the sight of it. And surprisingly your mouth opens and says …
“Sorry. Don’t usually collaborate.” You magic his chair to slide closer to you. “Ok, so here’s what I’m thinking …”
The past two weeks had been stressful yet eye-opening too. You had been learning a lot more about poisonous mushrooms and toxins in the Coral Sea that you would not typically interact with. However, while making progress, a sapling of doubt was growing inside you. All watered and photosynthesized by one slippery eel. The allusions about betrayal, his sly, ensconcing grins, and every action seemed to have a double meaning or price to pay for later: all of Jade Leech’s personality was driving you nuts!
The worst was when he would say something bone-chilling and dismiss it: “But that is an event we would not want to happen, yes?” or “But I would never say that, surely not I.” or “I simply jest. This would not be in my benevolent interests.” Every sentence seemed to tear you apart mentally.
Apparently, he was doing this because of your defensive action. Apparently, you puffed when he said things like that. You moved as if you were blowing up with invisible spikes, defending yourself and your barracks with a prickly attitude. He had also taken to calling you that nickname that Floyd had for you. You asked him about it a week ago.
“Aren’t fish related nicknames your twin’s thing?”
“Yes, but it annoys you so I would like to join in.”
You gave him a disgruntled hum and continued working.
A few mind-games were not going to discourage you after signing such an important contract, Jade had proven to be useful in expanding your knowledge. You would weather his little tricks and sinister smiles – no matter how much they made your skin crawl with suspicion.
You almost want to test his resolve, test if you can out disturb him. He had words and you had actions. Besides, you cannot ask either Si or Am this question. You were planning to pick those twins to work as your vice-housewarden. If they knew how attracted you were to the image of an overblot, a taboo subject, you might not have a vice-housewarden next year. So, as you two are fiddling with the measurements and burning liquids and powders, you ask Jade:
“When Ashengrotto overblotted, what were your and Floyd’s thoughts?”
It is one of those out of the blues questions. Still, you are still surprised by how Jade manages to keep his composure, hand stilling for no longer than three seconds. A slippery centipede of white teeth crawls on his face, amused, but he keeps his focus on the powder he is pouring.
“When Azul overblotted,” he mused. “Well, I thought what a foolish thing to do. Truly, he should have known better to lose control like that. Floyd was very disappointed in his lack of composure. We expected better of our housewarden.
“Why ask?”
Of course you and Jade would look at overblots and feel different. You two were on two separate planets, labeled Octavinelle and Pomefiore, thus you would never see eye to eye. You hid a scowl behind your hand, stirring your mixture.
“In Pomefiore, you’re expected to have a taste for beautiful art – to create art, be it craft or performance – not that you yourself are beautiful. When Schoenheit overblotted, there was something hypotonic about it. Eldritch beauty. I’ve never seen anything so gorgeous.”
“Were you there when it happened?”
“No. I managed to pick up a video recording of it after numerous favors were given out. It’s so grainy but even still, you can tell he was perfect at that moment. You felt no awe for Ashengrotto?”
“Mermaid forms are sometimes hypotonic to humans and the like. But Azul’s overblot was simply himself but unraveled and foible. It was just not all that stunning to me.”
“They have this saying about art and beauty,” you cannot help yourself from speaking. “Art should disturb the comfortable and comfort the disturbed.”
“Hm, I can see the appeal. Humans always have such odd little sayings,” Jade muses. And that is the end of that conversation.
Beauty is an important value of Pomefiore; there is no denying that. Magic Mirror on the wall, who is the fairest one of all? But beauty is a volatile word as it is so deeply subjective. And fighting prejudices itself is a big Pomefiore value! However … you twist your pencil in hand, forlornly studying Jade.
You are positive that he knows you are studying him. He simply waits patiently to see if you can entertain him more.
If you reveal this to him, the entirety of Night Raven College might know by the end of the week. Not that you keep it hidden for your own vanity. Though, Vil Schoenheit had strict requirements on what beauty is … If you are to reveal this and Schoenheit finds out, can he disqualify you on the basis that you are too disfigured to be housewarden?
Truly, you have no vanity but to jeopardize your goal. The hand wrapped around your wrist tightens until your bones start to ache. You absolutely cannot jeopardize yourself or risk being disqualified from attending the exam.
But, then again, your vice-housewarden found beauty in everything. If this spread to all of Night Raven College (if Jade revealed it because it would provide him entertainment), Hunt would at least be a voice in Schonheit’s ear, praising your dedication that ran skin deep. You did have some cushioning there. Ok, you were going to do it.
You shrug off the heavy black jacket and start unbuttoning your vest. Jade does not say a word, watching. You let these two articles of clothing drop to the nubs of your stool. You continue by unbuttoning your white collared shirt.
“If you are hoping to get something more physical from our relationship, you should disclose that information in our contract. No matter how embarrassing it might’ve been to discuss it in front of Azul.”
The sides of his lips pull up in a razor-sharp smile. You puff and continue stripping.
“Don’t flatter yourself. All of this is still in pursuit of me being housewarden. There is no need for you to even touch me”
“Oya, then may I employ the reason for you und–” You interrupt him by slamming your dominant arm down on the table. His eyes fall to your mummified arm. A coil of white bandages serpents from the third inch of your wrist to the end of your deltoid, a few inches off from your black tank top. A spark jumps to Jade’s eyes as if someone struck together two rocks. “Oh, what is this?”
“Have much gore can you handle? Be honest.”
That question seems to really add some intensity to his eyes because he moves them off your arm and stares at you. His still lips start twitching up again. “Now, why would an innocent thing like you ask someone like me that?”
“The last time anyone saw this, they threw up on my dorm’s floor. Stop being such a smart-ass, Leech.”
His eyes are like suns. “I have seen things in the Coral Sea that would make you throw up, Pufferfish.”
Good. You move your index and middle finger under where the top bandage is tucked. However, your nose starts to crinkle as you sit there contemplating. Risks are still uncalculated; you have yet to map out every angle at which this could benefit or ruin you. If Schonheit finds out … No, this is in pursuit of making the best poison, no one can fault you for ambition. You start to unfurl your bandages.
To be honest, a demented part of you is excited to see the reaction that notoriously spooky and eldritch Jade Leech will have. So as your hand circles and twists, you watch the sharp profile that watches your hand.
Masking raw emotions behind a tiny, sinister smile is a trait that Jade has mastered. People jump at loud noises, Jade does not even flinch. His body is alarmingly disconnected from the kingdom of his mind.
Enviously, you watch as his features thoroughly remain schooled to neutrality and reveal nothing of his thoughts. Inch by inch, more of your arm you reveal. His mismatched eyes are certainly analyzing, shifting, and evaluating but nothing is truly revealed in his face. The only flicker of discomfort you see is when he swallows hard. His throat bobs slightly when the bandages around your shoulder loosen up. But that could be a totally unrelated act of swallowing. Strangely, you admire his ability to keep an expression that can conceal a thousand more expressions.
Done unwrapping your arm, you begin to fold up the bandages in your hand. To be honest, you can admit that perhaps the lack of reaction is reasonable as your arm has surely looked worse before.
Multiple lacerations of varying degrees and depth climb up your arm. The orange-yellow fat of your upper arm is exposed in some areas like the backs of poisonous toads breaking through mud. A concave spot of burnt brachial muscle is oozing black-red again. Sometimes, your ring finger still twitches desperately from that wound; the nerves are similar to old chargers that need to be pinched and settled specifically to create charge.
Tooth white of your humerus bone plays peek-a-boo at you from the cave of maroon, peach, and black. You still have skin but it is a raw yellow tint from surface wounds or poison. However, there are barely three inches of real skin left clinging like desperate webs to your upper shoulder. Which might have earned you the motion of Jade’s throat rippling with a deep gulp.
No matter, it is healing up better than most days.
Cautious to not touch the steel table again (no matter how clean), you begin by trying to locate an island of skin to test. You are pulled from your exploration when a voice asks:
“How long have you been doing this?”
“Why? Worried about me?”
“Not particularly.”
“Ouch, that hurts my feelings, Leech.” You fake a frown until you finally can locate a patch of remaining skin. “Hand me our poison.” The vial is deposited between your non-dominant index and thumb.
Once the cap is off, you say. “My tenth birthday. Just some poison ivy on the path to my middle school. That set me in my ways. All because some teacher said to never touch leaves that look like those and I was curious as to the reason.”
“Floyd had a similar experience. Spotted trunkfish. They were so colorful that Floyd thought to ignore our parents' warning to never touch fish that looked like that. He grew quite sick after a lick.”
Well, that is certainly unexpected.
Not the story about Floyd. You could easily conjure up an image of him going to bite the leopard spotted skin of such a fish only to have a colorless toxin poison him. Yet, Jade actually revealing some information about himself — well, actually it is about his brother, so then information about their childhood – is strange for the tight-lipped twin. Perhaps he only told you so you can contemplate using trunkfish’s toxin at a later date.
Still. You cough a laugh into your elbow. Then, you rotate the arm for better access to unblemished skin.
“Adults avoid revealing necessary information like the plague. They never want to give the reason for why something shouldn’t be done.”
“Perhaps, they just want to see it done so they remain quiet.”
“Hm, perhaps. Everyone needs a bit of entertainment,” you mutter, administering altered fluorine. Is that perhaps the reason why Jade Leech is here; why he had gotten you into Azul’s office within an hour? Entertainment is a feasible reason. Silently, both of you watch the effects.
Sizzling skin, rashes, deep lacerations: all of this pain you were used to. Repetition of self experiment did eventually lead to sensory neurons quieting down and accepting the abuse. So as smoke starts to rise off your arm, Jade is surprised by the composure in your face.
Smoke rises in a tiny cloud before pretzel-ing itself into a little skull. The skull thuds once then twice in the air like a heartbeat. Breaking apart, it leaves as acid starts to tunnel down into your flesh. You remain still, watching with a clenched fist.
Acid digs and digs, past the numerous layers of skin and fat. You wrap a protective ward around the intricate, branching neuron system. Like a growing virus in a petri dish, you watch the acid start to jump from fat to fat from muscle to muscle, licking at all the surrounding areas.
Good to see that it spreads instead of tunneling. An essential aspect to chart about each poison.
Finally, it reaches the bone like you were hoping. Absorbed fluorine can bond with calcium cells. If the spells and chemicals added work, this administered fluorine should bond through touch alone.
Close and close it inches until — “Ah, I thought I would find you here, (Name).”
Jade, alert, turns even though he was not addressed. Ah, it is one of those twins that always tails after you like imprinted kittens. He cannot tell where it is Si or it is Am. Curious, Jade turns to look at you for the answer which twin he is dealing with before a usually concealed emotion passes over his face.
Surprise.
You grip your magestone like you are afraid that it will run away. Residues of a spell fall over in lilac sparkles. Yet, the most surprising part to Jade is that you are fully redressed, every article of clothes summoned back to their neat place. Even the snake of bandages you had removed are spiraled back on your arm, concealed under layers of the Night Raven College uniform.
“Hi Si,” you smile like nothing is unusual. “You were looking for me?”
“Yeah, Vil is making everyone in the dorm attend this etiquette class tonight. Some of us were sent to collect anyone who was out of the dorm. I lose rock-paper-scissors against Am.”
Etiquette class? A fucking etiquette class? When you become a housewarden, you would never call your dorm students to do such a frivolous activity like learning how to distinguish types of spoons. Schoenheit had everything you wanted and was wasting it. You, on the other hand, would push your dorm students in meaningful ways – by making them study poisons and work towards creating lethal injections.
“Ah I see. Just let me,” you shift up from your chair. With a startling speed, you vanish all of your supplies from the table. Almost as if you are trying to hide … before Jade can continue thinking on that thought, you say, “Next time, call me.”
“Yeah, I know but,” Si’s eyes flicker over to Jade. “Next time, ok? I’ll make sure to call next time.”
“Thank you.” You pocket your pen as Jade stands. Giving him a once over, you say, “Next time for us too? I’ll see you on Monday.”
“Yes, see you then.” You nod gratefully and start to walk away with Si. Stupid etiquette class. Underneath your bandages, you are acutely aware of the working poison that you cannot visually study. It slithers and crawls over the maroon meat in your arm. There is an insectoid itch to just rip off the bandages just to see – fuck Schoenheit, you knew what a salad fork was! “Oh, and Pufferfish?”
“Yeah?” You turn.
You are startled by how close he is leaning to you. His mismatched eyes are burning intensely like stars and his smile is moonlight. He rests one bare (when did he take off his gloves?) hand to your neck, rubbing a thumb to the skin laying like a pie-crust sheet over your voicebox. “Thank you for your vulnerability.”
The itch stops as does your footfall. Raw prickling sensation is washed over and replaced by something much stronger. The pumping, panicking flood of your heart.
Sevens, were you going to regret that? Metaphorically, you just pulled down the collar of your dress shirt to a cannibal. Oh, this is not a good investment. You give a quick nod to Jade and flee, with Si close behind, giving you a curious look. As you learn meaningless dining etiquette and posture, that sentence stays with you.
Lying in bed that night, you imagine the sensation is a half-baked dream that comes to you as you fall into sleep. A bubble of blot floating to the surface of your pen.
Mint foam falls out of your mouth in surprise. “Wh-what!” You snatch up your magic pen. No bigger than a facial mole, a speck of blot has dirtied up your magestone. Frantically, you rub your thumb over the mark. Don’t panic. It could be from a stain from your inked papers or perhaps rubbed eraser bits sticking to the surface. You scrub harder at the unrelenting mark.
“Shit shit shit,” you moan as you rush into the bathroom to spit out your toothpaste. “No, no, no,” you bemoan louder when you dip your magestone under the water and the mark remains, a tiny lemur-like pupil staring at you. Sevens, what are you to do now!
The world seems to tilt as you rest your head on the chilled faucet. Slowly, bit by bit, your anxiety begins to pluck your mind out of your ear like it is bad stuffing that was put into a toy wrong. You feel like you are losing your mind.
A trembling hand reaches out to retrieve your violet towelette off the rack, scrubbing the mint off your lips. Senselessly, you stuff the rag stuffed in your mouth. Holding it there, feeling the soft fiber filaments brushing your tongue and gums. With pained abandon, you scream into the soft fabric. You slam the rag down when your caterwauling is finished.
Overblotting? You cannot overblot when you have so much ahead of you. Unconsciously, your body slides down to the corner of the bathroom like a defeated sticky hand falling into a heavy heap of lint and dirt, feeling muddled and disgusted.
A fire erupts on your skin, shoulders and above, roasting your thoughts. It takes an hour to calm yourself down. You ignore Si and Am when they come to collect you – not like they stay long. Sitting, knees tucked to your chest in your bathroom, you went through the motions. Your body refrains from crying, gritting teeth and gripping fingers are your only outlet for stress. Then, the embers reach your arms and smolder out in billowing smoke. Your consciousness slowly returns to you.
Pursue your goal to become Pomefoire’s housewarden. You realize as the fire dies that you had to keep doing what you had been doing all along. To avoid overblotting, you need to ground yourself with your goal. The dot of blot is so tiny! You criticize yourself for panicking so badly. Yet, when you go to pick yourself up in the physical sense, your fingers are still trembling.
The botanical gardens. The botanical gardens. You need to go there and calm down. You shove your magic pen in the pocket of your slacks instead of letting it be exposed to the world in your chest pocket. Despite picking yourself up mentally, you still walk like someone is in a daze. Just get to the botanical gardens and find something to experiment with. You go to imagine comforting oleanders or deathly nightshades but all you see are destroying angels. Tightening your teeth, you push open the lips of your dorm and exit on the tongue of your carpet.
You finally feel like you have returned to yourself when the smell of it all rushes to meet you. A scent that fills your veins and roots you. The tang of rich soil, the bite of fresh rain water, the kiss of flora. You could never be away from the land; this smell of earth would be devastatingly missed.
Inhaling deeply, you close the glass door and drift deeper in. There are no classroom activities in the impressive greenhouse until afternoon so you are cleared to explore. Speckled around the vast garden are a few students, studying for herbology, potionology, or something else. Hands sitting on your churning stomach, you make sure to drift around and away from them.
There is such a beauty in here that makes you grateful to be enrolled in Night Raven College. Carried on oily breezes, freckled sunlight enriches everything that it touches and magnifies their hues. It is a renaissance of vibrant childhood wonder from rich reds to popping purples. How gorgeous land is.
As you go, you gather a few yellow angel’s trumpets and blue larkspurs in your hands. You twine the stems one by one, ignoring how the larkspurs start to sizzle against the skin of your hands. An ugly rash will bloom on your palms in the morning. Still, you keep braiding stem by stem, trying to make a senseless pattern in your collection.
You are so intent on your braiding that you make one of the worst mistakes anyone can make in the botanical gardens and step on a lion’s tail. An agitated growl is all the warning you get. As quick as a frog, you jump up and narrowly miss the five claws that swiped where your ankles had been.
With a loud thump, your landing turns a few heads. “Hello, housewarden Kingscholar. Sorry for the disturbance.”
You frequented the botanical garden like an addicted gambler to a casino. You had come to learn everything about it, even Kingscholar’s napping habits and habits when he was not napping. You still remember the way your sock filled with blood your first year when you accidentally woke up Kingscholar.
As the grumbling lion rises up, a few leaves caught in his brown hair, you cast an apologetic smile down to him. Striking green eyes narrow at the sight of you. “Ah, (Name) (Last Name). The one who challenged the Dark Mirror themself.”
You roll your eyes at that as he has always greeted you that way. When were people going to drop that? No matter, you would prove them all foolish when you became a housewarden. Then, people would know you as that instead of capitalizing on something insignificant that happened forever ago.
Because when anyone mentions it, bile rises up to your throat.
“The shape of your soul is Octavinelle!”
You blink awestruck. Huh? You shift your eyes around the mirror chamber as if trying to locate the soul that the Dark Mirror is talking to. However, you know that he is addressing you as dread starts exploding in your chest in sharp bursts. That cannot possibly be right. Is it stuffy in here, the thought flickers over your brain as you try to steady your wild breathing.
The noises around you swallow you whole. Shuffling of polished shoes, the person behind you in line stepping up to take your place. Distance chatter of other students, theorizing on which dorm they will be sorted into. The sound of your — no, Octavinelle’s housewarden, some shark-mer, calling out your first and last name. All of it so loud and obnoxious. All of it is wrong. Your fists unclench and clench rapidly by your side. All of this idiotic noise is –
“You’re wrong!” You spit at the mirror, shattering the cacophony around you.
The student behind you comes to a grinding halt and everyone’s heads turn towards you. You care little, glaring up at the Dark Mirror, and shouting, “You made a mistake! Look at my soul again! You’ll know where I belong!”
Crowley pinches his golden talons up to the filigree metal resting over his nose, summoning up a deep, tired breath. There is always one student. Egotistically set in their ways, they believe they are granted a right to whatever dorm they please. Moving to medicate this ordeal, the Headmaster waves his hand and opens his mouth to speak.
“You!” You turn on him, glaring venomously. “Quiet!”
The ebony feathers on his shoulders seem to gain sentience and ruffle with agitation. Why you rude little thing — Crowley was not expecting the first expulsion to fall on Orientation but —
You fall into a bow, legs standing and head colliding with your knees. A cloak of murky green light falls over your figure. “I know the shape of my soul because it is mine and mine alone. I know that if you look at my soul again, you will realize your mistake. I will accept a beheading or euthanization if I am proven wrong.”
You turn your gaze up towards the mirror, “But even dying, I will be assured you are still in the wrong, Dark Mirror.”
Crowley, having stopped to listen, quickly regains himself. You have quite a little mouth on you, he thinks as he darts to grab you and expel you from his college. The Dark Mirror is unquestionable and omnipotent; you are nothing but an ant begging to not be stepped on. He makes it about halfway to you when —
“Stop.”
The Dark Mirror’s lips fall into a tight line once more. Somehow, the hue of green radiating from the capsule the mask is trapped in glows even brighter.
Crowley is shocked when he realizes the mirror is talking to him.
“I will grant the request of this student to re-read the shape of their soul. Step closer, child.”
You make no mistake this time in your approach. Perhaps anxiety had kept you tethered to a spot too far away from the Dark Mirror. Boldly, you place your dominant hand down upon the glass. People start once more murmuring but you are stone in your resolve. Let the Dark Mirror judge; let it feel past your fingers into the burnt and serrated flesh crawling up your arm; let it taste your dedication and know the shape of your soul.
It takes half of a far too long minute of calculating and reading before the Dark Mirror gives you your answer.
“The shape of your soul is Pomefiore!” You withdrew your hand.
And though it had mattered little to you, housewardens and vice-housewardens and professors and the group of students you shared a year with still talk about it: the only student who got the Dark Mirror to change their dorm. The one moment in Night Raven College history where the Dark Mirror made a mistake. You crinkle your nose at the lion.
“That story’s old history.” You puff and tighten your grip on your bouquet. Oh, the larkspurs are definitely going to leave a rash. “I don’t see why I need to have such a long, tedious nickname tied to such a boring event.”
“Truly self righteous, aren’t you, (Name)?”
“Well, it’s a mouthful, so I can’t see it sticking anyways.” You meddle with your flowers. “Besides, there are more interesting stories like Enma Yuuken. The Dark Mirror might be getting senile, putting me in the wrong dorm at first then the carriage carts a magicless student into our school.”
Pointed teeth smile at you. “Come on now. You? You criticizing the oh, so respectable Dark Mirror is unheard of. What pissed you off?”
“I love the Pomefoire dorm and this school, but I can admit when things are turning upside down.”
The enrollment of a magicless student, the mistakes that both the Dark Mirror and Crowley were making, … the multiple overblots. You try to ignore the weight in your pocket. Night Raven College had been having an unusual couple of years.
“Still, I thought you had an avoidance policy for Octavinelle? After the Dark Mirror tried to put you there.”
Oh, so that is why he brought up the incident with the Dark Mirror due to your relations with Octavinelle. As you stirred your flowers, you had been trying to figure out Kingscholar’s goal. Everyone in your year was at least aware of your hatred for Octavinelle. Working with Jade Leech, no matter how smart, he was still an Octavinelle student. You were not one for secrecy so yours and Jade’s mysterious relations had probably became the next grape on the vine.
Still, you could've only been seen interacting with him in the Pomefiore labs or the botanical garden as you avoided him in class. “He asked me for tutoring with potionology. Having Leech indebted to me is sure to be a plus when I become Pomefiore’s housewarden.”
“Is that so?” From his lounging pose, he suddenly strikes up. Jade is only five centimeters taller than him. Still, you feel more crushed like a rat in a cat’s paws under those emerald eyes than mismatched ones. Brunette hair billows around his angular face and starts to brush you when he leans in close. “Has scenting become part of tutoring now?”
Scenting? Did the lingering smell of certain poison stain your clothes? You always experimented with poisons whose smell lingered on your arm since before Orientation and no one said anything. Si and Am had been looking at you weird since a week ago, is it a cat thing?
You furrow your expression at the too close incline Kingscholar has over your body. This is typical of him. Whenever you were in the botanical gardens during daylight, a lion would find itself leaning over you. Still, you should maintain your promise that you would stay on the benevolent side of every housewarden and not bite back. You even managed to smile at Malleus Draconia two weeks ago! Though it had sent shivers down your spine and left you dizzy with terror. So be nice to Kingscholar, you remind yourself, though you are always nice to Kingscholar.
You puff in surprise at his next move. Leona moves his face to rest his chin on the crook of your collarbone. Getting a face full of voluminous hair, you spit when some gets too close to your mouth. If your hands were not occupied with flowers, you would poke him. Instead, you vouch to remind, “No sleeping on me while standing, Kingscholar.”and dig your chin into his head.
Your only response is a soft sniffle against your neck. You twitch at the feel of it.
“If the smell of cyanide on me is bothersome, my apologies, Housewarden Kingscholar.”
“Nonsense, I like that scent on you.” He moves back and starts to mess with the flowers in your hand, claws poking at petals. “This other smell though –”
Leona stiffens. His keen eyes flicker up to your face and then back down to the flowers. Like an insect sprayed with water, his nose twitches and twitches.
What is he so concerned about? But then, one of his fingerless gloved hands starts to go down to your waist. Terror reaches out as Leona does, squeezing your heart like a mutt ripping into their favorite toy. Ice shoots down into your burning, rash-covered fingertips. You had forgotten, as you lingered here in conversation with Leona, that he could smell magic. The crumbs and residue of a spell. The stain of an overblot dot. You go to jump back when –
“Ah, Pufferfish, I thought I would find you here.”
It is a moment of convenience and parrying, you harshly remind yourself as you look with eager eyes at Jade Leech. You had completely forgotten about the break between second and third period. Perhaps he was hoping to spend time with his terrariums? Whatever the reason, you will take your exit graciously.
Annoyance paints Leona’s face as you slip through his grasp like sand. You bound over to Jade’s side and quickly go to speak about his ‘tutoring’, knowing he is sly enough to catch on. Yet you are interrupted as he observes the poisonous flowers in your hands and smiles, “Ah, are those for me? How generous.”
You try to ignore it. You really try to submerge the feeling in the back of your mind but it erupts in a heat across your neck and ears. “O-Oh, I. I um.”
“Thank you,” Jade smiles and delicately peels the larkspurs and angel’s trumpets from your hands. He admires the braided stems. “Angel’s trumpets. You do always seem drawn to the things named after angels. Fufufu, quite fitting, indeed.”
The flush over your skin dies when you hear a low growl behind you. You turn to Leona, a brief shock in your eyes. “Ah, housewarden Kingscholar,” you start and the anger seems to deflate out of Leona, typical annoyance adorning his face. “I have to go. Leech and I are actually going to do some studying on these types of flowers. I’ll see you later?”
Despite the fact anger is gone from Leona’s expression, his tail is shifting behind him, contemplating his motions. His eyes trail to the flowers clutched in Jade’s gloved hands. “See you later. Don’t disturb my nap next time.”
Taking the opportunity, you and Jade exit. Though you mourn being gone from the fresh air of the botanical gardens, you are grateful to have escaped with your secret (which makes your worry about said secret less tantalizing than before). You and Jade stride in silence for a while. He is surprisingly finishing braiding the remaining flowers that you missed, content to ignore you. You start to feel that familiar flame crawl up your shoulders, worrying about that black dot. You bring a thumb to your mouth, biting at the edge.
Noticing, Jade pops the head off one angel’s trumpet and hands it to you. “What are the side effects of this one? No flowers grow in the Coral Sea.”
You gratefully take the cone-headed flower, rolling it around in your bare fingertips. “If you ingest them, fever, hallucinations, and persistent memory disturbances, to name a few things. When brewed in tea, they can block this compound that sends signals to cells to do specific body functions and results in delirium. Ingest a whole bouquet, you’re looking at death and a life without children.” Jade lifts an eyebrow at that. “They’ll paralyze your dick.”
“Oh,” the eel-mer grows a bit paler in his cheeks. You start to chuckle, feeling a little of the weight that had been crushing you earlier lift off. “Truly a deadly angel. Hm, you said something about brewing them in tea.”
You puff at him, “Don’t think I’ll be willing to drink anything you serve me. I wouldn’t trust bottled water from your hands.”
“And yet you drank a drink Floyd presented you with when signing our contract. How cruel of you. Perhaps you should have made a deal with him instead.”
“Don’t joke like that.” The eel-mer gives you that odious smile. A grimace falls on your face at the sight of him looking happy.
Still … you made a promise to maintain good-naturedness with NRC’s housewardens and their second in command were simply an extension of them. “Leech. Thank you for retrieving me.”
“Ah, it is no problem. You looked like you needed an out. I provided one.” Still … you want to gripe that it meant a lot to you, but you rather not push it. If the sycophantic was going to act against his nature and help you, accept it. “To be frank, think nothing of it; I’m positive that you will get me back eventually.” Spoke too soon.
“Yes, I’m sure you and Azul have already created an outlined list of each small favor you had done for me during our time under contract.”
“All completed with dates and times,” Jade adds helpfully.
You chuckle, pressing the angel's trumpet to your lips. Inhaling the sweet scent, you think how monumental it is that eating such a plant could make someone fall into a coma. Truly, magical spells are petite stars compared to the universe of power nature has given the world. So enamored with the upside-down umbrella-like petals, you blink in surprise once realizing both of you are walking towards the Hall of Mirrors.
“Have you always been so close with that lion?”
Your shoulders rise in surprise. “Kingscholar? Yeah, we’re close. He naps in the botanical gardens often and I’m in there experimenting. We know each other fairly well. Though I’d rather not be the spot that he decides to nap on.”
This time you notice he is not looking at you. Odd, when you were speaking a moment ago, you two held each other’s gazes. He has his eyes trained towards his ‘gifted’ bouquet as if trying to shield something from you.
“I had not realized. Perhaps, I have not been to the botanical gardens as frequently as I thought.” His keen eyes cut a perfect bisecting line across your features. Bristling under his harsh attention, you listen as he says, “Do you see him as a friend like Si and Am?”
“I try to keep every housewarden in my good graces. If he does not graduate, I’ll be standing beside him at Orientation. I would rather our relationship be more stable than the one between him and Schoenheit.”
And that is the honest truth. You had already tried your hardest to become friends with Rosehearts and Al-Asim. You were slightly successful both times as they were rather easy to appease in their own ways. Ashengrotto had proven to be a harder buyer of your friendship, especially since you were very opposed to stepping into Octavinelle. Still, remaining cordial with Kingscholar was planned too because he might stay back another year. Yet, you never spoke to Schoenheit.
As Jade is contemplating your words, you two enter the Hall of Mirrors. It is slightly dense with students, coming from free periods into Night Raven College. You step close to Jade and look up.
“Housewarden Kingscholar is just, well he’s just that. Housewarden Kingscholar.”
Seemingly this pleases Jade because he gives a little satisfied hum at the answer. “Well,” he starts as he picks the angel’s trumpet out of your hands. “I can see no one will be breaking through your barricades any time soon. Not unless they’re equipped with a tank of sorts.”
He takes the yellow flower and places it on the nook of your ear. His fingers move down and down until he reaches your neck, rubbing his thumb against it again. What was up with that?
“Well, my shift at Mostro Lounge starts this period so I should be going.” You nod, sharing the sentiment.
“Perhaps you can grace me with your presence sometime. Floyd will serve your drink.”
“Anyone ever have the guts to tell you that your jokes aren’t funny?”
“I happen to be known as a very fun-gi by those close to me.”
“That was awful, Leech.”
Seconds before you depart from each other, Jade instructs you, “Take a shower when you get back to your dorm.” You blink at him as he starts to slip a leg into the Octavinelle mirror. “Just … benevolent advice.” And then, with your bouquet in hand, the flickering mirror slides over him like a wave and Jade Leech is gone.
┉┉
Jade is smiling. Which in itself is not unusual. Jade is typically always smiling, eyes angled up and a polite simper on his features. The roulette of emotions he shows on his face is few but smiling seems to be a constant.
This smile is something different, though. One that is barely concealing its malice mirth with tiny twitches. Like he has a knife attached to his sleeve, gearing to slit your throat ear to ear. If you shrink into yourself a little, you tell yourself it is self defense rather than cowardice.
And he’s walking faster towards you than usual! Sevens, he might just be plotting to kill you.
He comes in front of the steel desk with one hand over his heart and the other behind his back. You noticed it briefly when he was discussing destroying angel mushrooms but it is more prominent now. When Jade is pleased, his eyes glow slightly. Dim luminous yellow like a pinprick of a flashlight, yellow gliding over his eyelashes.
“Good morning, Pufferfish.”
“You seem awfully pleased, Leech.” The hand that you decided conveniently to place your neck on is self defense, you remind yourself. “You managed to steal the spot of housewarden from Azul? Discover a new species of mushroom?”
“Though it is regrettable not the latter, I can assure you that I am ‘awfully pleased’ for reasons that you will be most gratuitous for.”
Oh that is not a good sign. Shifting in your seat, you say, “Okay, I’m biting. What’s got you so happy?”
Grin growing, he pulls his non-dominant hand from his spine and holds his source of happiness out to you. You almost faint.
You stare at the vial as if it will suddenly combust like a poorly wired bomb or grow teeny legs to visit the Headmaster to snitch. Then, your heart starts pounding excited bursts. You leap over the desk and grab Jade by his tie, hissing, “How did you even manage to get this!”
“The Octavinelle dorm prides itself on benevolently helping others in need. If there is a problem, we procure a solution. Thus, due to this sympathetic principle, we do have connections in every dorm, and with every housewarden.”
“Ashengrotto managed to get blackmail on Schoenheit!”
“Fufufu, to me, blackmail is such a crass word. But it is better to be the one holding the debt, than be indebted.”
Hand still clutching Jade’s tie, you turn and stare down at the vial. It is the poison that made Vil Schoenheit housewarden after his first year attending NRC. You had watched the broadcast as often as you did your housewarden’s overblot. Enraptured and drawn in by the ferocity of a Pomefiore’s housewarden. How you yearned to be that grand and perfect. As perfectly pristine as the lacy, overblot insignia on Schoenheit’s forehead. In Jade’s hand was an achievement that any Pomefiore student would kill to have. And Jade has it held out to level with your nose! You do not realize it but your features are inches away from brushing his cheek as you lean in. Fixated, you stare at the bluish-green liquid like it is a winning lottery ticket. The gluttonous liquid stares back.
In awe, you whisper, “Who would have imagined Schoenheit caught up in strings?” You reach out a finger to briefly draw a line down the vial. “So pretty. Poison is so pretty.” Like a mage has placed a potent charm on your soul, you are bewitched by the sight of the vial.
You snap out of it when Jade’s chuckle blows warm air on the side of your face. Suddenly realizing the distance between the two of you is not even considered distance, you quickly fall back into your seat. Your heart is pounding rapidly; is it because of the lack of distance or being so close to that poison?
“Be honest, how did you manage to get it? No way this came easy. A Pomefiore’s housewarden’s pride is their ability to make a winning poison.”
“Vil is an individual meticulous about his looks. That’s his main pride. Floyd and I happened to halt the production of one of his skincare products in order for me to retrieve this for you.” Then, shockingly, Jade slowly grabs your dominant hand and unfurls the fingers. You shiver at his unhesitant touch. He drops the vial into your grasp. Grip on it sturdy, you look up at Jade’s radiating eyes.
“Wait. You’re giving this to me.”
He halted the entire production of skincare? Were there recognizable name brand products under the management of the Octavinelle trio? You couldn’t have guessed that their influence was that large. Struck with some warm, foreign emotion, your eyes trail back down to the hypnotizing, lovely poison in your hand. “But why?” Why would Jade Leech ever pull a single string in the marionette of influence that he and his two friends had over NRC for you?
Answering your question, Jade straightens his posture and a hand falls to his chest, “Like previously stated, it is better to be the one holding the debt than be indebted.”
Oh. A frost falls over whatever unknown warmth had previously enraptured you. You realize what you hold on your hand is far from a gift but a leash. A bit of blackmail to hang over you at all times. A knife always at the back. No good deed comes without a price to pay – unsurprisingly, this is another debt to that outlined list.
As if noticing your sudden emotional shift, Jade amends, “but this time you can be assured that when time comes for me to cash in, it will make you awfully pleased. Trust me.”
“That’s asking the impossible, Leech,” you sigh.
Despite your words, you roll the vial around in your hand anyways. You are already thinking of all the things you can do with the treasure in your possession. First will be dissecting the ingredients. Or should you test it on your arm? A delighted shiver runs down your back. You feel like you are on cloud nine.
You have been facing trouble almost all your life. Truly what was one more offense? If Jade was not being deceitful then this would work in your favor. Sycophants were not usually known for such generosity. Maybe you misjudged the eel – if only a little bit.
“Leech.” You cannot believe you are about to say this. “Thank you. You didn’t have to and I didn’t ask for it. So, thank you.” There you go, out with it, no matter if it feels like chewing nails.
His smiles turn a bit warmer. Yet, in typical fashion of his, he weighs his next words carefully. What should it be: Azul and I; the Octavinelle dorm; or I, singular. Instead, Jade omits himself, “Azul expects great things from you when you are a housewarden, Pufferfish. Don’t disappoint him.”
A prideful grin materializes on your face. “Wouldn’t dream of it.” You pull Jade’s seat out from under the table. “Sit. I’m dying to test this.”
Jade makes no move to sit. You are arrogant to his plight, eagerly unbuttoning your vest. He traces his eyes over your collarbone, the ridges where bone pushes up. Drawing his eyes over the brightness of your eyes and the speed of your fingers. The collared shirt falls to the ground. The tiniest hit of muscle tone in your unbandaged arm stirs up his slippery intestines. Upon being so close, observing, Jade thinks he might get cold feet. But
“I also brought this for you.”
His words are apprehensive; his self-assured smile is strained. Your hand stops fiddling with the tied part of your bandages. Whatever Jade is appearing to hand over to you must be more dangerous than the vial you grip. Nails snap into your flesh like an activated bear-trap. Dreadfully, you remember your new possession could usher you into expulsion. You wait with baited breath.
“It is a gift. I,” Jade clears his throat, seemingly frustrated with himself, “I thought that with your affection for poisonous things that you would enjoy it.” He waves his magestone through the humid air. A lavender comet paints the air briefly.
At first, an irrational part of you worries he will summon a sulfuric liquid to pour over your head in a sick joke. So though your muscles slightly tighten up, Jade still goes through with his spell. Worry withers. You spring up upon seeing what he has summoned.
“Wow.”
In front of you sits a terrarium. The glass structure is shaped like a tiny gnome house, perhaps about one quarter smaller than a gingerbread house. Elegant black metal twirls around the pentagon’s sides. Moss and soil with a few decorative pieces of bark lie on the bottom. Inside lies two destroying angels, one taller than the other. It is oddly sentimentally of Jade.
There comes that warm, strange emotion again. What is it? Perhaps, your addiction to self-done tests is eroding a part of your stomach or ribs. Is some acid sitting dormant in your chest, waiting until Jade does something unexpected?
“Thank you.”
You push the thought away. Nothing to be concerned about.
┉┉
“So. Jade Leech?”
Really, you should learn to collar your emotions. Why did Night Raven College not teach a course about emotional intelligence? Perhaps then every housewarden would not be falling in a domino effect of overblotting. Trying fruitlessly to relax your shoulders, you ask over them, “What about him?”
“You just have been spending a lot of time with him.”
“I agree. It is almost weekly at this point.”
“Almost daily if I remember correctly, just not Tuesdays or Thursdays.”
“Odd.”
“Truly odd.”
Bristling, you send a venomous look over your shoulder. “I don’t like what you’re implying.” The siamese twins give you a matching expression of mock confusion.
“Implying what?” Si asks.
“Implying what?” Am asks.
You roll your eyes to the ceiling and continue down Night Raven’s halls. The twins had been flanking (in their words, escorting you) since you all left Humanities. Usually, this would not bother you. Catty and sly, they were still your friends. You even planned to pick one of them as your vice-housewarden when the time came.
You just really do not like what they were implying.
Am tucks a strand of hair between his ear and says, “It is just odd that after your self-proclaimed ban on anything involving Octavinelle that you would hang out with the vice-housewarden of Octavinelle so often.”
Si adds in, flicking dust off his tail, “We all know you are not dumb enough to sign up a contract with Azul. So what has you so enthralled with that eel?”
Out of the corner of your eye, you catch the motions. Are they truly disturbed the thought of you hanging out with Jade Leech? Though their body language was quite different from yours. Still, how sweet of them.
“Are you in trouble, (Name)? If you ever need a fish flayed, you have two cats at the defense.” Am puts an elbow on your shoulder.
Si follows along, “Little eel wouldn’t know what hit him.”
You chuckle at their offers. Si and Am are certainly dangerous students. Deep crystal blue eyes (framed by golden hair with black tips) that were shrewd and curious. Two matching sets of claws for each of them that could shred skin easily. Large fangs only visible when they chose to intimidate. Unpredictable and volatile cats.
At least with Floyd Leech and Jade Leech, you had a little distinction with who you were dealing with due to their unmatched hair. The siamese twins were perfect clones of each other, adding to the turbulent experience of interacting with them.
“I can take care of myself,” you say, grateful to finally come up to the door of Divus Crewel’s class. “Though, the offer is not on a time limit, is it?” A playful, unserious smile grows on your face.
“Of course not,” both of them say in unison.
You laugh and disappear through the door, singing “Have a good day you two.” You miss it, but as soon as your back is turned, those shrewd blues eyes sink down into malice, cutting glares.
“What’s so funny?”
“Ah!”
You jump in surprise. Why are you so surprised, you arranged for Jade to meet you here? Hand on your heart, you greet the eel-mer with a timid smile as he leans over, teeth on display. It is quite cute that he tucks that black strand behind his ear when wearing safety goggles. Heart slowing, you scold, “Warn me before you speak.”
His eyes narrow yet his smile stays present. Chuckling, Jade stands up to his full height and stalks off. He truly is sinister in his motions at times, never revealing too much. “So. How did you manage to get Crewel’s classroom empty?”
“I offered up study sheets for Crewel’s upcoming exam to get the students that were going to use this room today.”
“Hm, where have I heard that before?”
Upset that he is comparing you to his housewarden (who is in Octavinelle), you bump your hip into his. “Watch it, Leech.”
It brings back that nagging thought all the same. You gather up your lab coat as Jade moves a couple of items around the room. Octavinelle. Why did destiny try to push you into somewhere you did not belong? Fingers buttoning up the coat, you seethe at the idea. Were you contorting and bending yourself into a position you did not belong to; to you, it is either become the housewarden of Pomefiore or become nothing – your train of thought ends when Jade puts the vial of poison in your gloved hands. He has finished setting up the cauldrons to analyze the simple ingredients of Schoenheit’s poison. No. This was right. And for some reason what encourages that thought is not the vial but the smile on Jade’s face.
┉┉
Dead ends. The end of a road or passage from which no exit is possible. Dead ends in artwork, staring at a computer or canvas and unable to create. Dead ends in jobs, accepting the placement of yourself that has no chance of advancement into a higher position. Dead ends in academics, coming to the point where you had wrung out the last bit of your knowledge into a project.
You were sure that just around the bend, your nose would punch into concrete and your stubbed toes would ache in a grueling pain. The passage that you were taking to Pomefiore housewarden would summon a blocking wall. Faith would call you to struggle up it and climb. But … your nose was raw from past collisions and your heels were numb from previous efforts, another climb might mean you would slip down. Crunch and splat when you drop. Emotionally, you just felt exhausted and raw.
Jade might have been right, you would never be satisfied despite numerous testing trails. Your poison could kill a dragon in a day and you would go on trying for a lethal dose that worked in twenty-three hours, then moving onto twenty-two hours. Why were you like this?
Lamenting, you toss over in bed. The ceiling blinks at you, uncomforting. You rest the back of your hand on your forehead as if you were checking for a temperature. Jumbled legs twist the lilac sheets and you ask one of Sevens to aid you into sinking into the bed. You feel like some cheap rendition of Fuseli’s The Nightmare, locked in by this mood. Slowly, you slide your head over the side of your bed so the world tilts upside down. Your dominant hand knuckles kiss the floor, bandages stretching from the arc. There is a more accurate rendition.
Self-experimenting on your arm usually grounded you in volatile times. A new burn cries on your shoulder as you roll your knuckle on the ground. Dealing with both speckles of blot and the upcoming exam … well, self-experimentation was not providing the usual security.
You fidget your hand in senseless motions, thinking and thinking. Your contract was signed for the purpose of opening new doors to you. Granted, Jade Leech did have the keys to access them but – “Yet your shortcomings are making you fail. I can only aid so much.” and those shimmering eyes stamp themselves in your mind.
You spring up in bed!
Flipping yourself off the bed, you growl and kick when your legs get tangled in the sheets. Your shortcomings. Your shortcomings would not be what got in the way of becoming Poemfiore’s housewarden. The brick wall that would be found around the bend would not be your own reflection!
Riding off that positive energy, you hover over your dresser. You had a minimal amount of clothes, so most of the dresser was filled and packed with papers relating to your research along with your poisons. Sealed with your own magic, of course. Trusting public storage lockers, even if locked by Divus Crewel himself, made you nervous.
You look at all the locked drawers, hand starting to reach for your magic pen when you suddenly stop. The terrarium Jade had given you rested on the solid-wood top. Destroying angels. The twin angels nestle against each other, one tall and the other medium sized.
Before you really comprehend yourself, you are lifting up the glass-house top and using the poker to lock it into an open position. Carefully, trying to not disturb the foliage, you pluck up an angel.
“My own shortcomings, hm,” you murmur and twist the mushroom around. You refuse to fail because of yourself. Perhaps, you are self-experimenting in the wrong places. You had tasted poison before but … “I’ll tell it to Leech when I see him,” you decide and take a bite of the poisonous mushroom.
You just have to be more hands on.
“Taste-testing your own poison?” Jade asks.
This is your objective when you see Jade Leech, the next day. This meeting is in the botanical gardens, a bit deeper into the greenhouse and a bit later than usual. In his hand, he rotates the half bitten destroying angel you had presented like a proposal ring out of your dorm pocket. His scrutinizing eyes flick between you and the bite marks.
Sevens … why are you nervous for his approval on this matter?
“How surprising of you. Grown bored of our tiny simulacrum spells, have you?” He sinks a thumbnail into the indented space. Studying intently on where you have bitten and the size you consumed, the grams of amatoxin poison.
“Would you really want to go through what they have on a larger scale? Small bits like these are much less … lethal. It would be unfortunate if you jeopardized your life before the contract collects it.”
“Odd way to say you’re worried about my life.”
“Oh, nothing of the sort.”
Slippery eel. Slippery eel. Slippery eel. Shimmering inside, you quickly grab the paperwork you prepared for tonight. You must be making that pufferfish expression because Jade smiles warmly at you. “See, I calculated it out. I was able to neutralize the amatoxin in the mushrooms with magic. I burnt it all away from my system.”
You quickly slid a paper in front of Jade and continued. “This is the list of poison that I had tested orally before and some I have even built up tolerances to.” His lips move slightly as he reads them. Ignoring your warming neck, you grab the paperwork and start reorganizing your poison bottles. “I can safely consume a variety of these and burn them out of me when they become too lethal.”
“It is also correct of me to assume that you will proceed with this even without my approval.”
“Yes, very correct,” you grin and pull a specific poison between you. Pinching it by the cork, you amorously twirl it on the table in sly circles. Inside, ebon liquid that shines mauve rocks like a bobbing ship. “But, it would be more benevolent of you to help, yes?”
“I suppose,” Jade grumbles.
He is a bit displeased at having been caught by his own contract clause. Not that you need to know that his benevolent interest involves keeping you safe. You excitedly uncork the bottle and shuffle paperwork towards him. No, you definitely do not need to know that.
“Great!”
You stand up from the table and take a few steps back. You put the cork into the pocket of your dorm uniform and raise the bottle to your lips. It is all happening so quickly that Jade’s heart jumps like a frog into his throat. Give an eel a warning!
Before you drink, your eyes widen and you remember something. You reach onto the table and grab a … watch? “Almost forgot. I want you to write down all that happens along with the times. I’ll try to stay talking for as long as possible.”
“You do know that you are drinking a poison meant to kill a dragon.”
“Yes, I’m quite aware of what poisons I work with.”
“Perhaps a smaller sip should be taken. We can calculate the volume and density between you and a dragon. It should work the same.”
“No, I’d rather drink it all.”
“Benevolently, I think –”
“Leech,” here you grab his hands and force them to cup together. Oh Sevens, his face feels warm. “Trust in me. I will become Pomefoire’s housewarden. I just have to work past the limits.” You deposit the watch into his gloved hands. “Keep time for me.”
“Okay.” The words of a smitten eel.
“Thank you.” You fall back a few steps and lift the poison back up. “Time?”
“Nine, forty-eight, zero three. Zero four. Zero five.”
“Good.”
Delicately, like you are sipping a rare tea, you lift the poison’s bottle to rest on your bottom lip. You hold it there, listening to Jade count up. You cannot allow yourself to be the reason you fail. You cannot be your own shortcoming, something else would have to interfere. Doing this, you would be able to calculate the specifics of what the poison targets, the speed, and so much more!
Still, your heart is quickly hammering up in your throat.
Medicine. Take it like it is medicine. You sternly tell yourself. And before the begging fists of your heart can beat any faster, you take it all down in one gulp. Just like medicine.
“Tw-Twelve. Thirteen. Fourteen. Fifteen. Sixteen.” Jade uncharacteristically stumbles in his counting. He keeps going as your throat bobs with the weight of poison.
The taste is not putrid. You do not shake your head or scrunch your nose at all. Swallowing with a tiny quiver of your bottom lip, your face falls neutral. A thumb wipes your lisp for good measure. “Twenty-one. Twenty-two.” Now, it is all about the waiting.
You two do have to wait long because before Jade can even reach the full sixty seconds, your dominant hand suddenly rises up to your lips in surprise. No way. Before you pinch it down, a cough pounds itself free from you. And it is a horrifically wet, gurgling cough. You move your hand away, staring at the strings of blood connecting lip to hand.
“(Name).”
“Keep counting.”
Okay, what was this targeting first? Scrutinizing over the liquid, you think about your airways. Your tongue was still intact. So this was not completely fast-acting and more gore decorates your hand as you hunch over with another punching cough. Your airways were mostly likely corroding first, but a dragon had such thick airways. What should you do to maximize –
Before you can theorize more, you are on your knees, choking like you ran a marathon. Blood splatters out of your mouth. Sevens, you really should burn it out of you.
You go to grab your magestone — the spell will weigh heavy on it but — you startle when two hands grab your shoulders, unsure of who is trying to get a one up on you. Hand clapped over your quivering mouth, you meet Jade’s narrowed eyes and watch his lips move. That’s right. It’s just Jade. You shuffle one arm out of his tight grip, fist around your magestone. The spell sends the sensation of barb-wire veins running up into steel arteries, but you still manage it.
The room goes black, all electricity absorbed by your pen. As your breath and hearing come back to you, you find Jade’s shoulder in the dark.
“Write down everything I’m about to say,” you say victorious.
┉┉
“WHERE THE FUCK IS IT!”
Vengefully, you grasp the drawer’s knob and fling the wooden box across your room. The momentum causes it to hit the mirror above your desk. Snowflakes of glass sneeze out onto your carpet in a musical burst. The symphony just causes you to grind your teeth harder until your gums are begging for relief.
“Where – Where,” you caterwaul desperately. Snowflakes of agony hurricane in your mouth and reduce your once stable voice to a shredded mimic of itself.
You rip open another drawer. Inside is exactly what you are not looking for. That is predictable because you knew you would never misplace what you are currently without. Still, you desperately search and search, fruitlessly hoping that you did misplace it. Still, you claw through your room because it is better than having to face the music that someone has stolen your research notes and preparations for the summer exam.
“Please,” you beg the last untouched drawer in your room. “Please.”
Slowly, the drawer opens up and in it are no bundles of paper twined with magic nor your nine bottles of poison nor Vil Schoenheit’s vial of poison. Like a puppet cut from its strings, you fold over the drawer and start to hyperventilate. “N-ngh, no … no.”
Distantly, you feel the raindrops. Three consecutive splat splat splat falling over your head, spreading down your curled spine and seeping into you. Overblot. Though your pen is far from your hand, you feel it clearly there. The soulbound between you and your pen burns you. Magic becomes dirtier as emotional pain pushes at your throat like vengeful hands. Rein it in, you scold yourself, hunching and groaning at the pain. You dig your forehead into the wood of your dresser to focus on anything but the watery black liquid that coats you. “Br-Breathe,” you scold yourself.
Slowly, you emerge out of the phantom blot that has infected you. Like caught in a shuddering light, your body moves in odd inhuman jerks. Nails digging into the dresser’s top, you pull yourself up. “Breathe,” you repeat a little firmer this time.
The botanical gardens or Pomefiore’s laboratory. Preferably, the laboratory in Pomefiore’s dorm so you will not collide with any unwanted attention. You surmise that the best course of action is to find a way to calm down. If you can drown this painful burn with something stronger – You will – You will just sign another contract with Ashengrotto to locate who stole from you. Desperately, you plan and plan how you can avoid overblotting. On twitching legs, you exit your dorm of discord and leave your magestone on your desk.
“Breathe.”
The walk to your room and Pomefiore’s private laboratory feels like stepping on hot coals barefoot. Burying yourself into the violet sleeve of your dorm uniform, you try to navigate with limited vision. Your fellow dormmates look upon you like you are a stumbling raccoon drunk off rabies. You keep most of your warm face hidden by the sleeve over your cheek and nose. Sevens, you hope that no one has rented the laboratory for a private study.
Your motions are still unstable and jumbled. The revelation that someone has successfully stolen your work from you is world-tilting. Tripping over your own feet and bumping shoulders with students, you reach a hand to your sternum and push. Your hand tries to combat the rapid pace of your heart.
“No, don't think like that,” you mumble drunkenly but then the thought consumes you.
Jade Leech. Heart lunging into your bone like a claymore, you wince violently at the thought. After giving you Schoenheit’s poison, what is the purpose of taking it back then taking everything else in addition? Would his contract allow him to steal? If his benevolence was tied not towards helping you but helping Ashengrotto, then it might be a loophole. No, he was contractually forced to assist you; plus his character …
“No, Jade, won’t,” you start but stop. You do not know that eel-mer. You are not on a first name basis. Despite that, your heart pounds at the raw leather and rose flesh of your ribcage and muscular system, terribly sad.
Stumbling, you make it shoulder first into the door of Pomefiore’s lab. With a groan, you push open the door and fall in. Momentarily, you close your eyes and breathe in the scent of chemicals. Home on Saturdays and Sundays. Days in the laboratory with mother. Breathing becomes easier and then you open your eyes and it is suddenly unachievable.
“You fucking trait –!”
Your hand races down to your empty pocket, feeling for your magic pen. You stumble twice, once when realizing you left your pen in your dorm and second when the growing mass of a water spell is pointed in your direction.
“Cut it out, (Last Name). Throw your magestone on the ground now.”
“I-I don’t have it on me.”
The absolute devastation laced in your face and voice must be enough because … A wicked laugh billows up out of sharp teeth. Water spell drips off his pen. Your body puffs defensively at the shame you feel. In one hot glare, you watch Si and Am laugh cruelly at you.
“Give me back my stuff, you traitors,” you growl.
“Come, surely, you don’t think your words are going to get us to relinquish this to you.”
“Took way too many unlock spells to get our rewards.”
“Truly such a paranoid individual you are. Seven arcane lock spells.”
“You have always been so troublesome since Orientation.”
“I don’t fucking care,” you scream, hands clenching at your side. “It is locked up because it is mine. It belongs to me.”
“There you go again,” Am sighs. “Always claiming things. Claiming that the Pomefiore dorm is yours. Claiming that this,” the siamese lifts up the vial and a chill stabs you, “is yours when it is actually Schoenheit’s. Do you really have anything that is yours besides your self righteousness?”
You have heard enough and rush towards the twins. It is two against one. Pure magic against an overblotting mage. It is a battle that has already decided its victory, but you march into it nonetheless. Tails whip up in surprise as you close a long gap in seconds. Aiming towards Am, you raise up one fist, vision red with anger. The punch does not land.
Instead, a levitation spell bubbles around the back of your head and you are slammed swiftly into the wood of a lab table. “Fuck!” Your body crumples to the ground as those laughs start up again.
“HAHAHAHA, the future housewarden of Pomefiore everyone. A round of applause for this intelligent, unrelenting mage,” Si sings, summoning an auditory track of cheering and hollering whoops with his magestone.
Am hurdles a more subdued laugh at you. “Truly, did you expect to be the next housewarden? That wasn’t a jest?” The cat smiles larger when you — pushed to the dirty ground on all fours and a slime-trail of red down your nose — glare up at him. “Oh, it wasn’t. How sad.”
Mouth opening, you go defend your future position as housewarden. They knew you deserved that position. They were stealing your information above anyone else. You were the most likely winner for the exam, with or without Jade Leech’s and with or without Schoenheit’s poison. Claws sink into the soft flesh of your cheek. Claws cut off all your bristling anger before you can speak. Si pulls you up between the chest of him and his brother.
Kingscholar slashed open your ankle once but nothing compares to this bloody pain. Physically injured and emotionally embarrassed is a deadly combination. You cry out when Am takes one of his claws and cuts diagonal along your noise.
“Now, tell us, what does the brilliant (Name) have in their plans? How do you rebound,” fangs wink and preen at you in victory. “What’s the revenge for us going to look like?”
“Th-The Dark Mirror,” you spit out from the bear-trap of fingers clenching deeper into your face. One of your hands rises up and clenches back at Si’s wrist. “That’s my work. The Dark Mirror will recognize my magic on it.”
“Come now, don’t be so dense. Even if the Dark Mirror recognizes your work, we always have one ace up our sleeve.”
Schoenheit’s poison is waved in front of your bloody nose like a hypnotizing clock.
“You should know that no underclassman can receive help from their housewarden for the upcoming summer exam. I don’t know how you managed to get blackmail on Schoenheit but well done. You sealed your own fate.”
“Besides, (Name), who will they believe: us, the amiable students who have drawn no attention to themselves, or the student who has always had one foot in expulsion and one in attendance after disrespecting Dire Crowley? Crowley would die to have a reason to kick you out.”
“No more troublesome little mage in NRC.”
“No more housewarden (Last Name).”
All your thoughts and anger caught in your throat, all you do is puff. You want to warn them to watch what they drink, be careful what might slip into their food, but you know that the threat of Dire Crowley’s involvement is all too real. You cannot poison them if they leave something behind for Crowley to find. Think. Think. Think.
Sharp cobalt eyes meeting, they seem to conclude they are done with you. With a simple wave of a magestone, your body is propelled through the door and into the adjacent wall in a single blinking second.
“Ack,” your throat cries as you crumple to the floor.
“Tah-dah!”
An explosion of confetti explodes over your head and the coupling laughter of Si and Am cuts off when the laboratory door closes shut. Under the shower of pinks and yellows and whites, you sit, bleeding heavily from your nose. Trembling once more, you jerk yourself into a ball and put the sleeve on your uniform firmly to your mouth.
Breathe. Breathe. Breathe, breathe, breathe. Breathe. Breathe. BreatheBreatheBreatheBreathe –
You have been using your magic pen, less and less.
It is only natural, you scold yourself. A safety precaution that you need to take. Instead of openly volunteering to demonstrate spells for professors, you let another student take up the helm. But it causes an itch to glove itself over your arm, observing and not participating in potionology.
Perhaps people think you have gained modesty. Perhaps people are thinking you are growing lazy. You would bare your teeth at all of them. They don’t understand. Holding your magic pen is like holding your hand on a bomb always. It is like holding a grenade with the thoughtlessness of holding a rubber eraser. A simple levitation spell to grab potions off Crewel’s top shelf could blow off and unravel the bones and blood of your hand.
Eventually, you are going to get caught. Too many times using a ladder instead of a levitation spell, too many times struggling with tightly sealed caps instead of using an elementary ‘unscrew’ spell. With a vice-housewarden like Hunt, you know when eyes are peering at you. You just wished that it was anyone else.
“Twenty-seven,” you grumble. It really is not meant to be heard and is for your own pitiful attempt at finding some entertainment in this entire shitty storm. Still, it is hard to keep things hidden from Jade Leech – spoken or unspoken, it comes to light.
“Twenty-seven,” Jade muses from behind you. His hand is posed to his chin in that calculating manner. “If I counted correctly, I only looked at you seven times during our Defense Magic class and then five times in our Flying class. That makes twelve.”
Sometimes, you wish that you did carry the physical traits of a pufferfish so you could stab and stab at the annoyance that is Jade Leech. Pufferfish regrettably were not poisonous for eels to consume. So slicing yourself up for him to eat would be useless. Sighing, you slow your steps so you and him fall into walking next to each other.
“Only twelve? I swear I thought you were going to burn a hole in my head. Are you going to add to that number when we reach potionology?”
“Perhaps then I can actually reach twenty-seven. I will work diligently to get there.”
You crush the laugh that wants to come out and stay silent, upset at everything, him and beyond.
“Pufferfish, you have missed our last two scheduled meetings. Monday and Wednesday at eight PM. I’ll have you know that I loathe having my time wasted.”
“Sorry.”
“Does that mean I can expect your presence in the botanical gardens tomorrow?”
“No. No, don't wait for me there.”
Jade gives you a curious look, the tiniest hint of concern or maybe that is frustration. His hand momentarily flexes by his side, trying to inch towards you.
“Well, that is no good. Our contract did not outline what would happen if we stopped collaborating. I suppose that the clause would argue that you would have to give me a reason for terminating our agreement.”
“I’m not terminating anything. I’ll go and participate in the exam. If I lose, one of the three of you will decide to keep me. If I win, I will be a housewarden. The contract is still valid … I just do not require anything more from you.”
“Is that so? Nothing at all?”
“No, I got all I needed from our contract.”
“Then perhaps I can offer you a meal at Mostro Lounge since our research is complete. We should celebrate the fruits of labor, and we can discuss what poison you will be using to win.”
Your breath hitches. Jade definitely notices because he sends that curious look at you again; you can finally identify it as genuine concern. You cannot help how open your emotions are. That was the first time he had talked about the upcoming summer exam in a positive way instead of slyly hinting at possible failure. Jade Leech thought you were going to win. Jade Leech thought you could become Pomefiore’s housewarden.
Instead of joy, you want to curl into a ball and cry. Your bottom lip trembles.
“N-No, I don’t want to do that.” And even though you and Jade share the next period together, you quicken up your pace momentarily. “Thank you for all your help, Leech.”
Jade finally commits to the move to grab your dominant wrist. Uncaring of your bandaged and maimed arm, he pulls you so your body spins to face him. His mismatched eyes did not collide with yours. Instead, he is focused strictly on the magic pen you had gripped in your hand, which was once hidden in your pocket.
“(Name), your pen.” You tear yourself from his grip so fast that Jade blinks in surprise.
Tiny droplets start to blossom like cherries on your wrist from where his fingers had dug in. That pain is expected – you are not gonna get out a predator’s grip without a few cuts. Hell, Jade could probably tear your wrist to ribbons without breaking a sweat. Your features crinkle like paper mache, inked and painted with hot shame.
The concern in his eyes churns your stomach into a ugly nest of snakes. Bottom lip trembling, you scrounge your brain to find a way to excuse yourself. Really, what can you say to excuse the prominent black that is blanketing itself over the sleeping purple of your magestone. Your lips still tremble anyways, but you shut down when the predator crowding above you throws cutting words at you. The pain from them is unexpected.
“I shouldn't have to remind one of the highest ranking alumni the inevitable future that comes with having a magic pen that looks like yours. You watched your housewarden’s overblot and kept this hidden. For someone with so much intelligence, you are acting foolish, Pufferfish.”
The nickname, usually light, stabs at you like a claymore into your chest. Pufferfish … a bothersome fish that blows up around danger, one of the stupidest fucking fishes in the sea! Teeth clip against each other in your frustration. Rounding, you press your palms on Jade’s shoulders and push him as hard as you can. Blood from your wrist starts to climb down your fingers and towards your pen’s handle.
Concern is switched with shock. You doubt anyone has had the guts to ever physically injure him, not that your shove did anything but send him a few steps back. Not wanting to let him get in any words, you shout, “Don’t come near me anymore, Leech! Don’t find me in Pomefoire; don’t even look in my direction during class. Our contract is void.”
You turn, shove your magic pen back in your pocket, and go to flee when – “On what grounds?”
Students flow around you but you feel as if the entire world has frozen at his question … at worse, his tone of voice. Refusing to turn around, you push your mouth into your non-dominant sleeve. You bet if you turned around there would not even be any anger on his face, just that sharp, still, statue-like smile that could tear apart anything.
“On the grounds that you just violated our contract. You implied that you wanted me to stop using magic but I need magic to pursue becoming a housewarden. That is acting as a roadblock to me becoming Pomefiore’s housewarden.”
“I suppose that it was outlined if you felt I was an impediment that our relationship would end. Benevolently, I would advise you to stop magic altogether. Very well. I thank you for our time together, Pufferfish.”
You wish you could be as graceful as Jade in the face of another person’s silly anger. Perhaps that is the divide that keeps you from your goal. Perhaps that is why you are only a student as a second year and Jade is a vice-housewarden.
“Whatever,” you mumble and rush to find a bathroom. The grease of blood in your hand is making your pen harder to hold onto. Slipping, slipping, slipping.
You had not even realized that magic grounded until you found yourself starting to slip from it. Solid ground underneath you has suddenly become sand, pulling itself from you like taffy and shifting in grainy waves around your soles. Fuck, you breathlessly realize that you are spilling into panic. The floor is pliant and vanishing from your reality. In a split decision, you take a turn towards the Hall of Mirrors instead of heading towards a bathroom.
Summoning bandages to wrap the wounds Jade has given you is an impossible feat. In your dorm, there are bandages along with thousands of other medicinal herbs and supplies. When you reach it, you hurl yourself into the Pomefiore mirror, gasping for breath as you just emerged from a dive in the Coral Sea.
Mentality is key. If you can occupy your mind with anything else but your overblot, perhaps you can finally push the slab of stone off your chest, the emotional peine forte et dure crushing your ribcage. You slam your open palm to your dorm door and rush inside.
Think of anything else, you beg your mind but you feel as if every single body has fragmented away from each other and placed them far away like out of reach planets. Sevens, think of anything else, you scream and your hip falls into the corner of your dresser. Focusing on the itch just makes it itchier. Focusing on an illness just prolongs the time you are sick.
The floorboards, count them, a satellite translator reaches out and you grab onto that thought.
One.
Two.
Three.
Your throat hugs your vocal cords. Individual bones embracing your breath and trying to smother you out.
Four.
Five.
Six.
Seven.
A knock at your door. Flailing at the sudden noise, your hip digs deeper into the dresser. A bitten back scream traps itself in your mouth. Your nails grip down the wood and you pant heavily onto the surface, panic rising back up now that your concentration is broken.
“Um, (Last Name)?”
Sevens, what awful timing –
When bolting through Pomefiore, you must have spilled past Epel Felmier. Fucking shit. He was a first year student that managed to pull a quarter of the strings for you to have that video of Vil’s overblot. He has requested from you a potion to strengthen tree roots and the fruit they produce. Well versed in botany, you agreed readily for that video. You gave him three vials and said to return for a larger dose of what had given him his desired effect. It was likely that he would be approaching you this week.
Just that remaining bit of Octavinelle in you, making deals to boast yourself up. You start seething at the vile thought. You want to entirely stamp Octavinelle out of your mind, incinerate them all into fish kabobs. Just as you try to picture the image to calm yourself, Epel Felmier knocks again.
“It’s been three weeks and all the test trials have gone well. I think I picked out which one I want. Could you open the door?”
Go away. Get the fuck away from me. You manage to force out, “Now’s not a good time, Felmier. Tomorrow okay?” Underneath your nails, strips of wood bury themselves as you drag your fingers down in a clawing lion grip. Wildly, your ring finger twitches with your shot nerves. You spear yourself harder on the desk to ground you.
Go away. Go away. Go away. Go away. Go away. Go away. Go –
“Are you overblotting!”
Your heart stops cold in your arteries. Huh. The floorboards start to blur under your bulging eyes. Then the entire room blurs and spins. You open your mouth, to respond to Epel’s acquisition. Syrupy black starts raining from the cumulus cloud of watery blot in your open mouth. Huh. Are you overblotting? No, you do not think so. However, the dots of blot pounding down on your dresser tell a different story.
Maybe this is right. You would have been in Octavinelle if you did not push. You are as egotistical and troublesome as everyone says. You do not deserve to be the housewarden of a dorm that rejected you originally.
Your vision swims and you tilt with it. In a desperate effort, you go to grab the dresser’s edge to avoid falling. Glass breaks and the sound returns you to yourself.
“Are you okay? You sound pained.”
Oh, that is what he shouted. You force out one last time, “Busy now! Tomorrow!”
The pressure of your hyperventilation and hugging ligaments increases. You start to choke on your terror and quickly press your mouth into your sleeve. When the fit subsides, you look down to see your dresser is clean besides the nail marks. Luckily, you can register the sound of Epel Felmier walking away. But where had the sound of glass come from –
“No. No,” you lament sincerely.
This time you allow yourself to fall down. You reach out a hand, draw it back, and then reach out again. The Dark Mirror should have banished you. You are scum. You are not worthy of what you covet. Avoiding glass shards, you grab the tallest destroying angel and bring it to rest on your knees. Tremors rock your body as if you are nude in a snowstorm.
Doubling over, you mourn, “Jade. Jade Jade Jade. I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry.”
Really, you should not be here. If you are found, it will surely be a mark on your already wobbling enrollment.
Breaking and entering anywhere in Night Raven College could lead to expulsion … but a majority of your time spent in NRC has been spent walking that fine line. Like an ostrich who has committed to burying itself underground, you commit yourself to this path no matter the consequences. One more risky choice is fine. Besides, no one would ever monitor the botanical gardens past midnight.
You sigh over your mortar and pestle. Dropping the tools, you actually do bury yourself. Into the comfort of your injured hands, you push your face deep into their embrace and groan. You hiss when sharp pangs of agony ripple up your back. A giant spider constructed from pain has spread its legs over your upper spine, embracing you. To be honest, everything is painful. As if to spite, your dominant arm has taken to burning and burning with no medicinal help getting it to calm. All this you could weather usually if – if only –
Sevens, are you going to start crying?
The last time you cried, you were eight. Since then, you had bottled up tears like they were a fatal toxicant that would ruin you. No, no, you cannot uncap that bottle until you are a housewarden.
Piercing your nails briefly into your forehead, you groan one last time. You had been working constantly for three days without breaks. Your memory about toxicology was brilliant compared to others but you still knew that even you were missing chunks and scraps of your knowledge. That is why it was written down, your mind whispers. Yes, that is why you had written and laminated note after note. To start again was weakening you bit by bit.
You pick up your tools again. The longer that you wallow, the longer you are not working. You start to stir the bumpy white powder when the front glass door of the botanical garden clicks open.
Jumping up, you grab your pen to – to fucking what? Teleport yourself? You glance down at the tiny, desperate eye of purple that is still breaching the surface of an otherwise prominent oil spill. Your magestone has one last spell in before you overblot. Are you really going to waste it? You glance up in the direction of the door, flora and herbage blocking it entirely from your sight.
You set your pen down. Maybe it was just an old building settling? You wait for something, a voice, footsteps, anything really. And it does come.
“Ya suuure this is where they are? I’m gettin real tired of all this walking.”
Huh? You know that voice.
“It is worth the look. If they are not in their bedroom or Pomefiore’s personal lab, this is the third place I elect to look.”
“And if they aren’t here?”
“Then, we will find a fourth location to look for them.” A loud, miffed groan responds to that.
Jade Leech and Floyd Leech, what are they doing here? You pass a glance to the candle burning on the desk. Perhaps you can snuff it out and hide. You can see the glow of their twin magic pens, using them as flashlights to navigate the botanical garden. Perhaps you really can hide if they are still unaware of you.
You puff up air in your mouth and make a move to blow out the candle. Yet, one last noise pricks your attention, a whimpered please, we’re sorry. Your eyes snap to look at the golden specks peeking through the shrubbery. No way.
Tiredness is curling around your mind, so you barely even feel how your legs begin to stumble towards the freckled light. Your body moves before your mind. You do not realize that your numb fingers have picked up your pen again. No way.
You push past the willowing leaves of plants and nudge poisonous flowers out of your path. Gradually, the shrubbery decreases in density and light stronger than your candle burns your eyes. You stumble and round past the last potted plant in your path. No way.
“Hey, look, it’s Pufferfishy! They were here, Jade!”
Floyd’s jovial tone is met with your anxious silence, gangly body hunched like you will fall over at any moment and face drawn into a Greek tragedy mask.
No way. No way. No way.
“Fufufu, it seems so. No need to seem so aghast, Pufferfish. We come bearing gifts.”
“Merry Christmas, Pufferfishy!!”
The morbid gifts the Leech twins are bestowing to you are Si and Am whose consciousnesses are kept unlidded by a very weak, thin thread. In matching fashion, a monolith of red is raining from their noses. Si looks like he has taken a fall cheek first into a mirror. Am, who seems unable to breath through his nose, has two of his bottom fangs missing. Their entire bodies are soaked wet, hair and ears pressed down by the weight of water. In their ripped clothes, there are random placed indents. Bite marks, you realize with horror. Jeweled blue eyes are feverishly avoiding looking at you.
And since you are unable to speak, Jade takes the opportunity, “found these two cats looking for a midnight swim. Quite unusual of their species. But Octavinelle will always have its doors open for any student.”
“(Name), we-we get it really. And we’re sorry. Please, please, just call off the twins and we’ll,” Si rambles at you.
His words are cut when Floyd — who is holding onto Si by his nightshirt collar — lifts him up and slams his face into the botanical garden’s cobblestone. There is a crunch like a log of uncooked pasta being snapped. Terrified, your hands and pen fly up to your mouth. When Si is lifted back up, his nose bridge is reshaped into a crescent.
“How rude. Quiet, hehehe, Pufferfishy and Jade are tryin to talk.”
At this, Jade and you finally lock eyes. Your terror and his rigid poise melt into each other. For a second, it feels you and Jade are sharing a pulse, trying to push your ideas at each other. Olive brown and yellow, so unnatural yet turning into your normal. You two stare and stare.
“L-Leech.”
“I gave that vial to you. So taking it from you is the same as stealing from me.”
“...”
“That is a great offense to me. My father always said that you keep what is yours close and if anyone breaches your hold, bite back. Things are no different here than they are in the Sea.”
“Please, get them out of here.”
“If I was wronged, I’d lash out with a torrent of unmitigated verbal abuse to break them down mentally, then bind them and drag them beneath water. Which I have done. For you. Because you and I were betrayed.”
“Please, I’m on the verge of overblotting.”
“No. You are going to bite back, even if it means you overblot. Right this.”
Your pulsing eyes finally slide away from Jade’s stare. They shuffle down but only to the tips of Si and Am’s lowered, wet heads before you get scared and move your gaze back into the comfort of Jade’s eyes. If you give them one more look, you are sure to overblot.
It feels like you are standing on a raised building, miles and miles above the ground. The platform is ice. If you infect your eyes with one wrong image or infect your mind with one wrong worry, you will slip.
You have enough common sense to know pleading with Floyd is a waste of breath. Face knit with pain, you beg, “I’ll never ask anything of you again. No contract. No advice. No favors or gifts. Just please leave with them.”
“Your arm.”
Your features’ wrinkles and creases deepen with confusion.
“Your arm is the most disgusting thing I’ve ever seen in my whole life. I almost puked looking at your grotesque flesh. Compared to the nightmare that is growing up in the Coral Sea, your arm is more unsightly than anything I’ve ever seen. Looking at it made me sick.”
You shake your head wildly back and forth. “Sevens, Leech, does it look like I fucking care? Get them out of here!”
As anger blooms on your face, Jade mimics that expression. As if to spite you, the eel-mer uses his strength to pick up Am by his collar and toss him into your feet. You ignore his pained groans like someone ignoring a bothersome, untrained dog pawing at their heels. “(Name), help.” A shiver runs up your spine.
“Your arm is your dedication to becoming Pomefiore’s housewarden. Do you think that is a person worthy of becoming housewarden?”
“I can still become Pomefiore’s housewarden! I know more about poison than anyone else in this school.”
“They stole from you. What I had given you as a –”
“I was fine before you came into my life!”
Anger spills off Jade’s face, sobering up.
Your chin is shuddering rapidly. Despite the heaving of your chest, you refuse to cry. You lock your trembling lips together and plead at Jade with damp eyes, officially done talking.
His gloves fingers slowly unfurl from the tightened stones of frustration they once were. He casts a judgmental look at both Si and Am. You never even knew Jade could look so vexed before, as if things were out of his control. His eyes gleam with the hot fire in them.
“Perhaps, you are right. Perhaps,” Jade looks at his brother and kills his train of thought. Mind unclogged from wrath, he turns right back into the mastermind Hunt dubbed him as. “Pufferfish, if you can’t become Pomefiore’s housewarden, then what is left for you?”
Huh?
“Can you really find a reason to keep going on if you don’t win this upcoming summer exam?”
Then, like an explosion, the thought strikes you. A deep breath flares through you. Previous hesitation to avoid seeing Si and Am is gone. Your voice is meek and clogged with mucus. “N-No.”
The thought motivates you to brandish your pen, tremors reducing. You hold it horizontal to the front of your chest, a violet cosmic spell turning and rotating around the gem stone. In what should be clear lilac and gray, black blot congeals like a twisted lava lamp, cracked open and slipping all over you. A nebulous disaster twisting over your ribs and heart.
“No. I can’t.”
When you release the accumulating spell and your vision goes white, you regret nothing about overblotting.
Because you would rather die than not be Pomefiore’s housewarden. And since that future has become impossible through Si and Am’s efforts, you can go all out and die. Right here. Right now.
Death is rather peaceful too, you come to realize. It feels like a warm embrace, sentimentally holding you tight and brushing a hand over your face. And for some reason, it speaks too. From the white: “Hey, you on the other side, give me back my Pufferfish.”
At the nickname, you jolt alive.
Glass and vines are the first thing you see but it is void compared to the blot in your mouth that you have to spit out. Ebony egg yolks glide down your chin. With vengeance, you throw yourself on your shoulder so as to not choke on the substance. Someone has their hand around your dominant arm and you think your spine is resting on their leg. You want to check but — but, more sludge comes up and blankets the cobblestone. Your entire body rattles with the force as you take one shuddering breath and then puke some more.
“Good, clear your throat.”
Listening to this strange voice, you puke for a fourth time. When you have finally stabilized yourself, you fall back into Death’s embrace with a groan. When Death greets you with his two mismatched eyes, you frown.
“J-Jade?”
“Here I save your life and you don’t even seem happy to see me.” His lips mimic your frown with a bit more dramatism.
“Because,” you hack, fake anger on your tongue “, because I’m racking up quite a debt with you. Azul will have me on a leash by third year.”
“Ideally, I will be the one holding the leash.” He says, tenderly swiping a bit of blot off your chin.
“Shut up,” you hiss, not in the mood for his jokes. Tired bones and bruised skin leans deeper into Jade’s embrace. He does not make light of it, at least. You were expecting teasing piled onto teasing. “Si and Am?”
He cups a hand to block your wandering eyes and starts to faintly smile. “Thoroughly disbanded for the time being. As always, you were quite methodical in ensuring your goal. Though, this path is quite atypical for applying as Pomefoire’s housewarden.”
You chuckle at that before a sharp pain in your arm breaks your mirth. Erratically, your middle finger twitches and you wonder if you severed a nerve in your arm. Your studying is interrupted when Jade brings a hand up and down the length of your arm. His next words are not mocking or duplicitous.
“I,” his words pause heavy in his throat. “I did not mean what I said about your arm earlier. I don’t find it —“
“It’s alright,” you interrupt. “I’ll never be ashamed of it, no matter what anyone says.” Hating how Jade looks a bit troubled, you try to revive the previous atmosphere. “Plus, your opinion doesn’t matter to me that much, Leech. Don’t flatter yourself.”
The lie makes the eel-mer regain his usual tone, “yet who asked who for their opinions on poison?”
“I asked to use your intellect, nothing more.”
“So I truly am just a pawn to you. How cruel.”
It seems like you two could go on forever in your banter, which is why Floyd — whose irritable disposition at being thoroughly ignored has been snowballing — decides enough is enough.
“Pufferfishy was so cool when overblotting, right Jaido?” The sudden voice makes you jolt in Jade’s arms until a new train of thought washes over you. Your overblot. “Almost knocked one of my teeth loose, Puffy~ Would’ve squeezed you for that one.”
Your overblot. Your overblot! What did you look like? What had you said? Did you cut an impressive enough visage to match with Schoenheit? You stare at Floyd. Curiosity pushes like spiders trying to crawl out your mouth. “Wh-what did I look like?”
“You looked —“ like an angel.
“Ya had this big halo over your head. All sticky and inky. Your clothes were all drapey and purple. Patterns all up your arms.” Enraptured and delighted, you listen as Floyd plots out each part of your overblot to you, using his own body as an indicator. “And this totally radioactive spike as your pen!” You feel like you are on cloud nine.
“Was it? Was it more impressive than you know who?”
“I say you have both Azul and Vil beat for most imposing overblot.”
“Ya, Azul was all cryin’ and whiny. You were all, agh I’ll burn out your insides! You filth!” Floyd breaks off into giggles. “Pufferfishy has always been interesting since Orientation. Course your overblot is gonna be super cool.”
You preen at their words. Yet, in the aftermath of the praise, you start to come down from that buzzing high. “Wait. Wait, I can’t have this get out.” It could potentially disqualify you from running in the exams for housewarden.
“Don’t worry, I will have Azul write up an NDA tomorrow to be signed by all of us, Si and Am included. Besides a few damages that can be magiced away, you are in clear for continuing to work towards your goal.”
You breathe a sigh of relief. It is troublesome to sign any confidentiality agreement with Ashengrotto but this has slowly become your new normal. In your first year, you would have combatively against this relationship you have built with the Octavinelle dorm. Hesitantly, you go to leave Jade’s arms when —
“Jade, holy Seven! Your forehead.” You do not know how your eyes slide over it before. In an arch over Jade’s right eyebrow is a deep laceration. It is impressive in depth because a constant river of red is curling down his face in the same way the black strand on the right of his face does.
“It’s only a scratch. As Floyd said, you were quite vengeful.”
“That’s not a scratch. I know wounds; that’s going to need stitches.”
“Oh my, will it really? How do you plan to make it up to me? Such a deep wound; I will surely need a nurse to take care of me.”
“Ugh, be serious.” You start pressing your sleeve to stop the flow.
“But I am being serious, Pufferfish. To be honest, I feel my vision in my right eye is subpar now.”
“It’ll be subpar when I stick my finger in it, Leech.”
“Back to using my surname, are we? How tragic. I’ll surely miss that stutter you had calling out my first name.”
“Leech, Leech, Leech.”
In the background, Floyd Leech rolls his own uninjured eyes, annoyed at how your banter has started up again. Sevens, get a room, he thinks.
Rationally, you know that you no longer have even a drop of blot left sitting inside either yourself or your magestone but —
“How do I look? Do you think they score on outfits too? What am I saying; this is professor Crewel, that probably is an unspoken criteria that I was supposed to meet … This buttoned up has a bleach stain on sleeve, fuck. Leech, swap shirts with me.”
But you feel like you are choking on that syrupy black substance once again.
Jade chuckles at your evident panic. Always an open book aren’t you? He tightly grips your wrists when you leap at him to unbutton his shirt and smiles, enjoying your distress. “I’m terribly afraid it’s not the right color of lilac to represent Pomefiore. Plus, I’m much bigger than you.”
“I can just tuck the extra into my slacks,” you bargain. Your hands rattle fruitlessly in his cuffing grip. Now that he says that … you start to worry if the wrong shade of violet could make Crewel sicker than a bleach stain. You feel like you are choking down on a chunky milkshake of blot.
“Ugh.” Uncaring of his reaction, you start to fall into Jade Leech. Forehead connecting to sternum, you stay there as he holds your wrists halfway above your head. Since he held you after your overblot, physical contact between you two was oddly becoming normal. And this entire thing does feel like a second overblot. “I feel worse than ever.”
“Now, I’m quite positive that you have felt worse.”
“Nope, this is the worst.”
“In only a couple minutes, you will go out there and choke. Just imagine it.”
“Die, Leech.” You stomp on his Oxfords. You won’t injure him but you still hope to dirty his expensive footwear.
For the exam, they have a system of how people walk in. First, every Pomefiore student participating will stand outside. Then one by one, they are moved into a small room behind the auditorium, waiting until their name is called, and move onto the stage. Sometimes, Pomefiore students brought along support. After the betrayal from Si and Am, the role unfortunately fell to Jade Leech. It is just you and him in the room; same as it has always been under contract.
You squirm so you can rest your cheek into his chest, still locked by his grip on your wrists. “I’m gonna be so sick right now.”
An overblot was the catalyst of all negative emotions. You misjudged that it would dry you out of all insecurities. The grip of the Evil Queen holding you by the ribs until all the black liquid sponges out from black rivulets in your pores. Turns out you still have a bottomless cocktail of worry and stress left.
Jade was on the other end of the spectrum. He was quite assured that you would be winning. It had been a foreseeable outcome before you even asked to make the contract. When Azul and him schemed about their upcoming third year, you were substituted into the role of Pomefiore’s housewarden as naturally as Silver was substituted into the role of Diasomnia’s housewarden. All hypothetical yet assured. All calculated by some of the sharpest minds in Night Raven College to come to fruition.
Jade looks down at you, face on his shirt. How cute, your face even has that puffing expression when you worry yourself to the verge of puking. He smiles at you. It is unseen and genuine, far from odious.
“You have always been so interesting, (Name).”
Flee, your mind screams at you. You make a move to stumble backwards but you have forgotten that you are still in a bind, Jade’s slippery hands around your wrists. That odious, scheming grin returns to mask over his affection.
Jade leans in close, suffocating you, dangerous teeth gleaming. So close that the scent of mint toothpaste spills into your nose. Gleefully, he holds your locked arms out like he is pulling the wings of a butterfly to pin to a board.
“No, interesting is an understatement. You are magnetizing like a flame. Like watching someone burn alive.
“On Orientation, it was certainly amusing to be around humans. A new experience for me, Floyd, and Azul as mermen. But it grew old. Got repetitive, hearing your soul is Savanaclaw, your soul is Ignihyde, your soul is Octavinelle. You.” His eyes shine like a lightning flash, yellow painting his eyelashes. “You were like an explosion of fire, so much more powerful than any brief glimmer of light. I haven’t been able to look away since then.” And then, he lets you go.
With the force of yourself and what you suspect is also Jade pushing you away, you fumble awkwardly in the air for a bit. What stops you from cracking your head open is the single table in the room. Tailbone colliding, you desperately grip the surface behind you for stability. Ouch!
You look down at your hand. A bead of blood blooms on your index finger like a poisonous mistletoe berry. Damn, is the glass of your project at least still intact? Fretful, you go to examine the table when Jade pulls you back in by the wrist.
(It is odd. Since collaborating with the eel-mer, peace has been as rare and brief as a shooting star due to it. He has stressed you beyond belief. He has left you grappling for the true intentions of his words. Where Si and Am tricked you, it is odd that the one who openly speaks of your failures and challenges you has been more genuine to you than anyone else.)
Truthfully, you want to glare at him but you just stare. Those nocuous words leave you with a tingling sensation through your veins. Something warm and intoxicating, to be regarded as an image worth viewing. You watch as Jade lifts your bloodied, pricked finger to his lips. Pushes his tongue out and laps up the berry dot.
Oh.
“Leech?”
Divus Crewel calls your name.
You glare, metaphorical spikes flaring around your skin. Leave it to Jade Leech to calculate the perfect moment to confess yet not confess at all. Leave it to him to say words that you have to filter through a sieve to reveal the meaning. What a sly bastard, you muses.
“What are you standing around here for? Everything you’ve worked for is waiting for you.”
Funny of him to say that when he is still gripping your wrist.
“We’re talking about this later.”
“In the botanical gardens? Or perhaps Pomefiore’s laboratory? Will you finally concede and enter Monstro Longue?”
“Don’t push it. I’d never pay for those overpriced drinks.”
“Who said I’d let you pay?” He finally gives you back your hand.
“Hmph.”
You rotate quickly on your heel. From the table, you grab your project. Thank the Seven that is still intact despite the pressure your hand had placed on it before. The glass pufferfish cradled in your hand shines. Inside the jade green glass, the lethal poison sits waiting. From the pursed lips of the fish, you will take the poison and serve it to a dragon. Your heart pounds excitedly in your chest. There is one last loose end though – Turning to Jade, you question, “If I lose, did you three decide who would have me?” You have been dying to hear this.
“Yes, we all picked from the three things you outlined in the contract.”
“You’re splitting them up?”
“Yes. Azul will take your magic. Floyd is arranged to ransack your room, taking all your possessions. And I, I will be the receiver of your life and freedom.”
A snake manifests in your stomach, lashing at that sentence. You gulp, flustered at the venom in his tone. “How sad you will never have that,” you tease.
“I suppose that you should go out there and win.”
“I suppose I just might.”
You two share something warm in your mimicking smiles. And before Divus Crewel can call your name again, you rush out to the auditorium.
Glancing up from your cosmetic mirror, you watch Floyd sleep.
You never thought you would see a body look like that, limbs angular and disfigured. Bones rotated as if they had suffered a fall from a great height. Your knowledge on eel anatomy was limited. Perhaps, it was eel-mer flexibility that got him to comfortably sleep with his hand twisted around his back and touching his ankle?
“Do you sleep like that too or are acrobatics just Floyd’s specialities?”
The other eel-mer perks up at your voice. Another thing you learned about eels was their habit to bite. Jade stops sinking his teeth into your hip to answer, “A mixture of both. Though, I can assure that I am not as unruly to sleep next to, if you ever are hoping to find out.”
You take the pointed end of your makeup brush and dig it into his temple. As he whines of all dreadful things about your cruelty, you continue applying your blush. Whining from him would have unnerved you months ago.
To be honest, a lot of things you have been adapting to about Jade Leech were once very surprising. The whining, the biting, the clinging. You wished Floyd’s future significant other the best because the clinging (whether skin to skin or being shadowed constantly) was horrendous with Jade. Red powder brightens your cheeks. You were even surprised that the meticulously punctual Jade hated getting out of bed.
“You know, you’re going to be late to Orientation if you keep nuzzling into me all morning. Floyd is acceptable. You are the vice-housewarden of Octavinelle. You cannot neglect your first years.”
“And you are the housewarden of Pomefiore, but who’s lingering in who’s dorm now, hm?”
Your body hums lightly at the pleasant reminder. You almost want to beg him to say it again and again till his tongue falls out. Instead, you purposely make a lot of noise with your makeup tools as you drop the blush on the nightstand and grab your lipsticks. “See, but I’m up and preparing for the day. And you are not.”
Jade makes no response and goes back to gnawing on the slip of skin revealed between underwear and tank-top.
You roll your eyes as you start to outline your lip shape in a deep brown. You do admit that you will miss him when he eventually decides to get up for the morning. The position you have is nice: you, sitting on the edge of his bed, applying makeup, as he wraps his arms around your waist, body still tucked under the sheets.
“You truly are one bothersome eel, Jade.”
You apply the last bit of clear lipstick from a jeweled black tube. Rotating one nude thigh on the bed, you maneuver Jade so his head is in your lap.
“Spending all morning in bed, hiding Dire Crowley’s letter to the housewardens so Azul has to rush his own preparations, texting me this morning, oh (Name) please there’s an emergency at our dorm, please come. Didn’t know I was dating such a villain.”
“You knew,” Jade smiles up at you.
“… Yeah, I knew.” You lean down to give him a kiss which quickly escalates into more. Who can blame the two of you though, after a long separation on summer break?
Eel blood is poisonous. It is a biological fact that molds him to an image of worship in your hands. It reminds you of all you two struggled through – the first person you had opened up to and let him inject you with a thing as deadly as love. You gently cup his face, a stroking thumb on his cheek, and kiss each other like it will be your last kiss. All kisses with him were like that, infinitely finite.
Blood floods into the kiss. He does not even wilt when you bite down hard on his tongue. You feel a droplet break from the limited space between you and wipe it away with your thumb. He takes his own thumb, nuzzling it over the skin of your neck. You poison him; he poisons you.
You pull away, pupils blown, with a new lip tint.
“He-Here,” you say. Most of your purple lipstick has rubbed off onto Jade’s smug face. The red-violet mix is an intoxicating look on him. When he smiles with his full teeth, your stomach stirs at the blood pooling between enamels.
Breathlessly, you hand him a jeweled white lipstick tube. He pecks two quick kisses on your lips, looking like the cat who got the cream. “The top layer of my lipstick is poisonous. Apply this before your lips start feeling numb or you’ll lose the ability to talk for two days.” Your words do not even reduce the joy he feels having you in his arms.
“Oh dear, it sounds like you want that to happen to poor me.”
“I’m handing you the antidote, aren’t I?”
“Pomefiore’s housewarden is so cruel~” His faux look of sadness in slanted eyebrows and pouted lips is almost painfully predictable now. Still, he goes to take it and — oh, this is a bit unpredictable of him.
Uncapping the lip balm, he runs it over the top and bottom of your lip. Awestruck, you watch his calculating face. He caps it again and wastes no time pulling you into more sloppy kisses.
“Jade,” you pant. He hums underneath you, loving how his wandering claws are ruining your once tame hair, loving how you say his first name. “You definitely got enough of the antidote.”
He starts whining again! You laugh as you move your thigh off the bed and return to going over your makeup.
Shortly after, Jade falls into a silence. You start checking out each minuscule detail on your makeup. Symmetry no matter how you angle your face is key, Vil once said. Vanity is not a main concern of yours but your first appearance as housewarden is vital. The housewarden whose poison killed a dragon in six days. When they eventually put you in the textbooks, it would be best not to look sloppy. Perhaps, you can even convince them to do an article on your arm. Jade had been trying to convince you to publicize it more. Though the bandages were on today, who's to say they have to be on tomorrow. Hell you can —
“About your overblot…”
Your train of thought hops off the track and is engulfed in one giant flame.
You hate the way your body betrays you. Posture leaps up into a straight line. Jade definitely feels the way your spine becomes tense at his words. You know he can feel it as his forehead is pressed to the center of your back now.
After everything, you two had swept in under the rug. Decreeing it as a non-disclosable talking point. You wonder why he is breaching contract today of all days. Did the sadist want you overblot again on Orientation, thinking about the past?
You stay silent, hoping he will drop it.
“You shouted … shouted that you would be nothing if you weren’t Pomefiore’s housewarden. I just wanted to let you know before it all starts, that you’re everything to me. Housewarden or not.”
Your body is treasonous. It should be exiled and thrown out of the kingdom of your mind. You wish you could strip yourself of it because it is betraying you again. And you know Jade can feel the traitorous actions of your body, as your spine curls and your shoulders start to shake hysterically with your cries.
Hiding your emotions has never been a strong trait of yours.
As each muscle convulses and shakes, Jade elects to press a few more kisses on the ridges of your vertebrates.
“… Fuck you,” you gasp out wetly. “Now, I have to redo this stupid makeup.” Violet glitter leaks from your eyes.
Knowing what you truly mean, Jade smiles and presses a long-lasting, poisonous kiss on your sobbing skin.
#jade leech x reader#jade leech#twisted wonderland#twisted wonderland x reader#twisted wonderland jade leech#twisted wonderland jade leech x reader
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(continuation of writing prompt #3)
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The last thing Phantom expected was for the young soul he reaped (and intended to nurture into it's full ghost form in the calm of the Infinite Realms) to be ripped from his grasp months later and forced back into a vessel that no longer accepted it.
The world shook as Phantom panicked, trying to find the soul that had earned it's peace after experiencing such a harsh life and death. He began scouring the world for Jason, but is stopped by Clockwork, who tells him of the unexpected twist of a new halfa being created from the soul he was searching for. However, the new halfa's core is underdeveloped and being poisoned by tainted, decaying ectoplasm. If not found and treated in the Far Frozen, the soul will eventually burst in an explosion and snuff itself out like a star going nova.
Phantom now has a mission to find the child and save them from such another painful, but much more permanent, end. This mission doesn't come to fruition until many years later when his search brings him to Gotham again due to being able to sense a volatile amount of ectoplasm just building and building to almost a bursting point. He finds Jason in an all out brawl with Batman, eyes toxic green and blinded by an all consuming rage. As Jason is about to deal a major blow to a downed Batman, Phantom intervenes.
With Batman on the ground at his back and a violent, rapidly approaching halfa on the verge of breaking at his front, he wraps his arms tightly around Jason. His touch immediately stops Jason in his tracks. The green glow of rage leaves his eyes as tears build and then fall down his face. He collapses in Phantom's comforting embrace as he whispers soft words of comfort just like he did before Jason died. Jason outright sobs at the overwhelming feeling of no longer being driven by anger and the familiar aura of peace until he just completely passes out. Phantom continues holding the boy, now man, he'd spent so long searching for. The man was so tall he dwarfed Jason, even with Jason's considerable bulk, causing him to look like a small child when placed beside each other.
Batman looks at this interaction with wide, disbelieving eyes. He's never seen his son come out of a fit of pit rage so quick and efficiently. He's even more surprised to see the elusive and silent Grim (Phantom's JL given moniker) be the one to do it. Seeing how close the pair were and recognizing the parallels to a father and his child, he became uncomfortable. Batman opens his mouth to speak to the strange entity but is interrupted by the being's intense but peaceful gaze landing on his still prone form.
"Your questions can wait." The ethereal man said in a hushed, echoing tone. It oddly reminded him of the deep toll of the clocktower when it strikes another hour has passed. "Your son is extremely sick and the only way to save him is if I take him with me. Back to where he was originally supposed to remain for the rest of his afterlife, so if you'll excuse me."
Without another word, he vanishes with a sleeping Jason cradled carefully in his arms as quickly as he had arrived, leaving Batman alone on a silent rooftop.
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Alright, I think that's all I have for this writing prompt/idea. Feel free to add on to it or leave stuff out from any point!
#dp x dc#dc x dp#dp x dc crossover#danny is ghost king#danny is the reaper of heroes souls#writing prompt#angst prompt#prompt#dp x dc prompt#Reaper of Heroes AU#sleepy-writes-stuff
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