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synopsis: jade leech is utterly in love with you. the thing is, when you confessed, he got so carried away in his happiness that he forgot to tell you he likes you back.
tags: established relationship, kinda crack ...?, jade is a goofball, not very sad it very happi happi story
wc: 1.6k
âJade, have you ever thought of breaking up?â
âOho? and what has brought you to that idea, my dear? I believe I have not done anything unsatisfactory as of late. â
âActually, you have been treating me well lately. The thing is, I just have some doubts about your feelings for meâŠâÂ
Ever since youâve confessed to the eel, heâs been nothing but perfect towards you. Walking you to class; taking initiative and inviting you on hikes to the mountains, even carrying you all the way down when your feet hurt; gifting you a terrarium with two plants sitting side by side, saying that itâs supposed to be the two of youâŠthe list could go on? So what could make you doubt his love for him?Â
Thatâs precisely it. When Jade accepted your confession, you were ecstatic to say the least. Because you were so over the moon, you failed to confirm whether or not they were actually returned.Â
You knew for a fact that you loved the eel, and that behind his scheming pursuits and chilling smiles, he does hold some affection for you. But you werenât sure if he liked you the same way you did. When your fingers brushed over his, did he feel the same rush you did? Whenever you spot him in a sea of students after class, does his heart run to the moon and back, the same as you still do despite all the time youâve spent together?Â
Amidst your racing thoughts, Jade calculates his own response.Â
But first, a realization.Â
âIt seems that I have missed somethingâŠâ His voice comes out as a soft mumble, as if he were talking to himself.Â
âSorry?â
He looks at you with his eyebrows furrowed, concern painting the eelâs face. This kind of expression was common, but it was usually accompanied by a scheme of some sort. The only scheme here would be playing your heart, however. But you see the slight downward twitch of his lips, and for a moment, you believe that his worry is genuine. Then, his mouth moves to turn into a little pout. Adorable, you think.Â
âI cannot believe that I have overlooked such a vital part of our relationship.â Jade makes a move to hold you closer, his long limbs slithering along the dip of your waist. Your heart does a flip, maybe 10000 flips in a second. Lethal power: 67%.
âPrefectâŠâ His fingers drag along your hair, tucking it behind your ear. The closer proximity gives you a chance to study his annoyingly handsome features. His mismatched eyes meet your own, and his lips contort into the smile youâve grown fond of. You feel your knees weaken, and mentally thank Jade for holding youâotherwise you mightâve fallen. Fallen for him, though, you already have. Lethal power: 82%.Â
Suddenly, he draws back. Your eel retracts his arms from your shoulder and waist, takes a step to create some space before you, and holds his hands together in the usual, polite manner he does.Â
âWill you let me have the honor of marrying you?âÂ
âŠ
�
�???????????!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Lethal power: MAXIMUM OVERDRIVE
You find yourself unable to move in shock. Was there something you missed? What part of your conversation could have ever led him to Him??? Marrying??? You???
Before he could reach for the box in his pocket and get down on his knees (why does he just have that prepared?); your arms frantically reach the sides of his shoulder and bring him up to your eye level, looking at him as if he had gone insane. Well, youâre not that far offâŠ
âWait, Jade! Iâm sorry, I donât understand! I thought you didnât like me back, why are youââ
âYou thought that I didnât return your affections? My dear, are you dense?â
Dense. You donât know if that was a more fitting description for yourself or the eel standing before you, âOn the contrary, I believe my feelings are affirmed to you each and every day we spend together.â For the second time, youâre taken aback. Unlike the first, your mouth is left gaping so much that a fly could take space and start paying rent. However, Jade graciously brings his hand to your chin to close it, and looks into your eyes once more.Â
âI believe I havenât missed a day. I was under the impression that our relationship was going smoothly, and that you were unsatisfied that I havenât proposed to you yet. Was that not your point, my dear?â
No, far from it! You wanted to shout, but to your favor, you let him continue, âI remember the day you first confessed your feelings for me. I assumed that you were accepting my attempts to court you. I always made sure to intertwine your arm with mine, after all.âÂ
That day, after his polite response, he reached out to offer his arm for you to hold, and walked you back to Ramshackle. It was no surprise to you, however, because it was common for him to do so. You safely assumed that he was trying to play the part of a gentlemanly, polite eel. But apparently, that meant something entirely different to Jade. He was courting you all this time? And you never noticed??
âJade, are you serious?â You give him an incredulous look, your brain trying to catch up with this new information. The eel smiles at your current expression, now clearly finding amusement at the situation.
 âYes, quite serious, my dear. But to calm your worries, I assure you that I sincerely return your affections. I find that our time together has made my days much more pleasant, and that your presence is one that I can never bring myself to tire of. Though you can be a handful at times, it seems that it only causes me to fall more in love with you, fufu.â The lilt in his tone soothes your thoughts, and you begin to fully look at the eel standing before you. Standing up with perfect posture, his hands are brought together across his stomach, and he still has his signature smile spread across his face. If you squinted a bit, youâd find that his cheeks are even tinted a very faint shade of pink, and that his breathing is a bit uneven. For Jade, such a small reaction is a big sign that heâs worked up. You find that hard to believe, but just hearing you doubt his love for you is enough to throw him off track.
Despite that, his eyes seem filled with amusement crinkling their corners, clearly focusing all his attention on you. At the realization, you feel your face heat up, and your heart runs a mile once more. But youâre happy. Relieved, even. Though your hypothesis was completely off, itâd be the only thing youâd never want to be true. The fact is: your eel is undeniably and utterly in love with you.Â
There is one question left unanswered, however.Â
âPrefect, Iâm glad that I was able to erase your doubts, but I believe you have yet to respond to my previous inquiry.âÂ
âHuh? What did I missâŠI love you too?â
He smiles at your reply, and gently runs his gloved fingers through your hair once more, âI appreciate your words, but I was referring to my marriage proposal.âÂ
âWait, youâre really asking me that? Right now?â You were only in your second and third years, after all. You didnât think your relationship would last either, and that youâd be left to deal with your âunrequitedâ feelings foreverâŠ
The amused look in Jadeâs eyes turned into something that resembled mischief instead, âHm? I take it that you are rejecting my request? Or is it thatâŠthere is a third party?â This time, he puts on his worried faceâcute pout intactâhand holding his chin, clearly putting on an act to look pitiful. âI was hoping to wait for the perfect time to ask for your hand, but I thought that waiting had become a hindrance in our relationship, in regard to your previous worries. Though, I am curious as to what your answer will be, my dear~.â
You let out a dry sniffle, but then your eyes warm up, and suddenly tears are streaming down your face. You find that your overwhelming happiness is difficult to hold back, and you see Jade genuinely startled once more. He immediately moves to retrieve the handkerchief from his breast pocket, âOh dear, Prefect, I apologââ
âYes! Jade, please marry me!â
extra:
After your confession, Jade walks back to Octavinelle in high spirits. Even Floyd is weirded out by how happy his brother seems, but immediately assumes that Shrimpy had done something nice to him that day. More than nice, actually.
He gathers his materials and the plants heâs foraged to create a terrarium dedicated to you. One out of many, in fact, but this one is special because it marks your first day as a couple. He sets two budding plants together, hoping to see them bloom with you.
Then comes your new routineâpreparing you lunches with mushrooms heâs foraged and recipes he threatened asked for from Ruggie, taking initiative and inviting you on hiking dates or go stargazing with him, and clearly giving you special treatment by handing out discounts whenever you visit him at Mostro Lounge Azul is on his last straw.
The only thing running through his head while doing these things is of course, three simple words: I love you.Â
Seeing you waiting by the counter at Mostro Lounge? I love you. When he gifted your couple-terrarium and saw how overjoyed you were, he thought, So this is love. Even though hiking wasnât your strongest suit, you insisted on going with him because you wanted to be part of his hobbies, too. I love the Prefect.Â
However, it seems he got a bit carried away, because he never actually uttered these words to youâthey remained as constant thoughts in his mind, leading him to believe he always relayed these feelings to you. Hm, and he has the nerve to wonder why you ask him one day, âJade, will you ever break up with me?â
hi I #back am at it! i didn't really proofread this and maybe i will edit later on but i want to get it out and stop being a perfectionist LOL so HI HI EVERYONE this is my submission to the jade leech fic community this is all i got for now gang
The grief, anger, and pain you have felt all this time has helped to manifest an ancient twisted being that hasnât been seen in over a millennium.
Words:
Warnings: Angst, body horror (?), no happy ending, sorry my loves, hallucinations, scars, everyone slowly goes crazy, mentions of rotting bodies, sad yuuken, the yuu gang plus grim WILL go through it, Lilia to the rescue! (Will he be able to make it?), yuus know itâs not you/somethingâs wrong but they try to ignore it, is it selfish on their part? Maybe, lovesick yuuken idc he YEARNS for you. (Cringy? Yes)
-
You were so vulnerable. Carelessly following a dot of light to some hidden cave. Now here you are, on the ground catching your last breath as the life in you begins to slip through your fingers. You feel cold. Really cold and your fingertips feel icy.
Everything around you is dark and eerie. Your finger taps lightly against the cold and wet pavement. Youâre trying really hard to fight the urge to go to sleep, but as the seconds go by you feel yourself weakening. Calling for help was utterly useless at this point.
Besides, how can you when your throat has been sliced open and youâre now lying in a puddle of your very own blood.
âDonât cry little lambâ
âIâll take it from hereâ
It drags its long and sharp finger down your face, wiping the small tear that slid down your cheek.
âMineâ
-
He feels like he isnât running fast enough. He can feel his heart in his ears as he tries to catch up with Lilia. The moment Lilia told him you could be in possible danger, his heart dropped. Now here they were, running as fast as they can to ramshackle dorm as yuuken prays to the great sevens that youâre okay.
He couldnât think straight, a thousand different types of scenarios run around in his head as he thinks of the worse.
Please be okay
Please be okay please be okay please-
âY/n!â He burst inside ramshackle dorm, not noticing that Lilia had come to a complete stop as he tried to stop him from going in.
âWaitâŠyuuken no!â
Please be okay please be okay please be okay
Yuuken slams the door to your room open. Breathing heavily as he frantically looks around for you.
âY/n? Y/n where are you?!â
He runs to your bed and rips open the covers in hopes of finding you asleep but he only finds it empty. He canât help but feel sick the longer youâre gone.
Where are you?
âYuuken?â He freezes. He quickly turns around to find your freshly showered figure standing in the doorway. You wore a pair of sleeping shorts and his shirt that he let you borrow. You had a towel in your hand as you continued drying your hair, and confused as to why he looked soâŠscared.
âY/nâ
âWhat are you doing back so early?â You asked curiously. Your voice still had that same soft and sweet tone he always found so soothing. But tonight, you sound a bit, off.
âI-IâŠâ Yuuken canât help but notice how strange it suddenly feels in your room. Has it always been this cold?
âI didnât feel good, so I decided to come home earlyâŠâ
âOh, okay well..I hope you feel better soonâ He nods before going quiet again. Something catches his eye though as you stand there in the doorway. A strange scar on your neck. He frowns.
âHey did you hurt yourself?â
âHuh?â He walks up to you, carefully pulling your hair to the side as he tries to take a closer look at your neck but in an instant you slap his hand away. Taking the both of you by surprise.
âIâm so sorry!â
âNo! No itâs my fault ! I shouldnât have touched you like that umm I-â
âNo Iâm sorry! Y-you were only just trying to help I justâŠIâm sorryâ You look down. You feel guilty about slapping his hand away like that.
But again, he canât know
âItâs getting late, I was just about to go to bedâ You say as you walk inside your room. Yuuken turns his phone and sees that you were right, it is late.
âI guess youâre right, well then, goodnightâ You smile.
âGoodnight yuukenâ
He steps out before closing the door. He was so busy being worried about you that he didnât notice that Lilia didnât follow him in.
Strange
Meanwhile, you were busy staring at the mirror that was in your room. You moved your hair aside to see the faint scar that was on your neck. More-so on your throat.
It was a bit red, the skin around it was still healing a bit and if it didnât react fast enough then yuuken wouldâve been able to see the faint outline of sharp claws that ripped your throat hours earlier.
Your once normal and beautiful face now switches to a more paler and scar filled look as the entity smiles wide.
He can hear your faint sobs as he caresses *your* face that was now only bloody and filled with scars.
âArenât you just beautifulâ
-
Last night was strange. Very strange. When yuuken went to bed after he left your room, he had terrifying dreams.
And they were all of you
You alone in some dark place as you sob quietly. Your face buried in your hands as you cry softly. You sounded, scared.
He remembers going up to you. Carefully asking if you were okay but the moment you look up at him, all he saw was a rotting and twisted face. Your rotting and twisted face as you scream at him.
And heâs been up since.
âHey yuuken are you okay?â He quickly snaps back and turns to see yuuka. She looks at him worriedly as she notices him acting a bit strange ever since he sat down.
âY-yes Iâm okay itâs just uhh I probably still donât feel good after yesterdayâŠyeahâ
âOkayâŠ.well if you need anything donât be shy to ask any of usâ He nods and she goes back to chatting with a very hungry grim who continues to stuff his face with food.
He sighs. He looks around the table and frowns. You havenât came down yet.
âGood morning y/n!â A loud and enthusiastic Yuuna beams as she sees you walk in. You were already dressed for class like normal. You smiled at her before greeting her and everyone the same.
âAh y/n! I brought you leftover cake from yesterday! Itâs in the fridge if you want it now or laterâ
âAh thank you yuuta, though Iâm not craving anything sweet this morning, maybe later?â
âThatâs okay! Here, I made your breakfast already so you should eat upâ you thank him as you took a seat. Yuuna begins to chat with you about her latest new adventure her and grim had along with the first year gang. You just nod along as you listen to her. Quiet and calm like always.
Unbeknownst to you, yuuken canât help but stare as he watches you silently listen to Yuuna rant.
âSo when you going to man up and tell her?â He jolts from his seat as yuuka laughs. Face heating up from embarrassment about being caught.
âI donât know what youâre talking aboutâ
âOhhh come onnn yuuken! Youâve liked her ever since we got hereâ He immediately shushes her up as he prays you didnât hear her.
âYou knowwww, I heard someone from heartslabyul has been starting to take a liking to our sweet quiet little lamb-â
âWho?â
âCanât tell yaâ She giggles as yuuken rolls his eyes.
Before any of them could speak again, yuuta gasps as he looks at the time.
âWe are going to be lateâ
âSo late!â Everyone quickly rushes to either finish their food or putting their dirty dishes in the sink as they quickly dress up or grab their things.
You quietly put your dish in the sink as you grab your bag from the couch. Grim rests on your shoulder as the two of you wait by the door for everyone else.
âYou wearing a new perfume or something?â Grim asks as he sniffs you. You nod and he frowns before shrugging and continuing to snuggle your neck. Unaware of the faint claw marks around your neck.
-
The day went by normally. Not being bothered by anyone and getting your work done on time. Today you impress the whole class by solving a difficult equation under 5 minutes. You quietly walked back to your seat as you ignored the states of everyone.
Soon after, lunch time rolled around and you were the first to exist the classroom. You played with the ends of your hair as you walked down the busy and crowded hall, managing to step away on time to prevent some people from bumping into you.
Today was just too easy
Too easy for this entity to play as you.
âY/n!â You stop In your tracks at the call of your name. You turn around to see yuuta waving you down. He wasnât alone and with him was Azul and riddle.
âHey yuutaâ You say softly. Ignoring the two with him.
âRemember that new recipe I was telling you about a couple nights ago?â You ponder for a bit before smiling.
âYes I do remember! Why?â
âWell I finally had time to make it today and I was wondering if you were up to trying it with me, Azul and riddle!â
He looks so excited. But do you really want to try it with these other losers?
âI would love to! But I have to return this library book before itâs due, maybe save me a piece?â
âAh thatâs okay! Iâll save you one for later! Have a nice day n/m!â You hum before turning away. Ignoring the eyes of those two. Though, as yuuta turns away from you, your face flashes in a twisted form for just a split second.
The two stumbled back.
You raised a brow at the sight of them, confused.
âEverything okay?â
âS-sorryâŠI thought I saw something..â
âYeahâŠme tooâ You shrug before walking away.
They know what they sawâŠright?
You suffered a lot from those two my little lamb. Why donât you make them suffer?
âŠ
-
Itâs happening again. Lately yuuken has been having some horrible dreams.
It first started after he came back from kalims party to check up on you. The night he left your room and went to bed, that horrifying imagine of your bloody and twisted face kept him up that night.
He was fine for a week before he started getting them nightly. Just dreams of you getting impaled by sharp claws and then sometimes itâs just you crying for help.
Whatâs happening? And what could these dreams mean?
Lilia has also been acting strangely lately. He refuses to step foot inside ramshackle and has also forbidden Mallues from taking a nightly stroll around ramshackle.
Itâs weird
-
The days went by normally, well normally as a day here in Night Raven College would go.
But the yuus have noticed something strange concerning you.
You finally recovered from your night terrors and your mysterious illness. Which was great! But they also notice howâŠdifferent you are now.
Youâre still quiet, but you have this look in your eyes when you space out.
AlmostâŠdead like.
You stopped asking about home. Stopped going up to Crowley every time you see him and asking him if he has found anything related to getting you and the others back home, which even Crowley finds it weird and concerning.
Thereâs also times where you donât sound like yourself. Times where you would say or do things that you never did before, grim has noticed this weird scent coming off you. And no, it wasnât because you stink or anything, itâs just that this strange scent of magic continues to come from you.
Which is impossible
Because you donât have magic
Something else that someone outside of the ramshackle dorm noticed about you was how eerily familiar you were with some certain pieces of history. How you talk about it like YOU were there. It was all so strange.
And yuuken has this small voice in the back of his head that keeps telling himâŠ
That this isnât you
-
âYuuna! Yuuken!â The two stopped their conversation to turn to see who called them. Yuuna smiles as she sees that it was their friend from heartslabyul. Deuce.
âHey deucy- huh? Are you okay?â Upon seeing the expression he wore, it was definitely something that wasnât okay.
âI-Itâs *gasps* itâs about y-y/n!â The two yuus froze. Yuuken almost immediately grabbing deuce by the shoulders.
âWhat is it? Is she injured-â
âSheâs fainted during flight class! I-I she looked pale and her nose started to bleed!â They both looked at each other in worried before quickly thanking deuce and running to the nurses office.
âŠ
âSheâll be okay, it was probably due to lack of eating and not getting proper rest. I gave her some medicine and helped her get cleaned up from the bloodâ
When Yuuna and Yuuken got ahold of what happened to you, they immediately informed the others. Grim almost fainted himself when he heard the news and immediately told Ace to take him to the nurses office.
Now here they were, all huddled up around the clinic bed as you for the hundredth time told them that you were okay.
âAre you sure youâre alright?â Deuce asked. He too followed after the two yuus once he told them about the situation. Ace also stood beside him as he tried to not look like he was also worried.
You may be weird and quiet, but that doesnât mean he doesnât care. Heâs not that heartless.
âYes deuce Iâm okay, so donât worryâ You gave him a soft smile. His flustered look didnât go unnoticed by yuuken whose brows furrowed while yuuka tried not to laugh.
âTold youâ she faked coughed next to yuuken.
âAlright dear, you may go. But remember! Take that every morning and before you go to bed! Most importantly, donât forget to eat and restâ
âYes maâamâ The nurse smiles before helping you get up and escorting you guys out.
âDo you want me to make soup for you again?â
âItâs fine yuuta, really! So donât worryâ
âYou sure n/m? Is your illness back again?â
Theyâre too attentive
âI promise itâs not, I just wasnât resting properly! But from now on I will, Kay?â
-
Months go by after that, so far no overblots have happened and everyone is praying to keep it that way.
There wasnât much updates about your normal world anymore. Not like any of you found it surprising since a certain somebody doesnât really like doing their job.
AnywayâŠ
Everything was well, till now.
Maybe itâs from the constant stress in classes that they needed to pay extra attention in. Or maybe trauma from the previous overblots that they have fought in. Right? Those have to be reasons behind these dreams. These dreams that keep them up at night and that always comes back to haunt them.
It started off with yuuken.
Heâs been having these dreams ever since that day with you and Lilia. Dreams about you crying in a dark and lonely place. Dreams where you are gasping for air as you try to scream for help. Then there are the ones of him. The ones where he isnât in control of his own body anymore and something is controlling him. Acting like him.
In those dreams he is covered in what isâŠblood. Lots and lots of blood as he cries to himself about whatâs heâs done. Everyone that he comes to know is all sprawled out on the floor as their bodies look like they were mauled by some wild animal.
He hates those the most.
The second one to start having nightmares was yuuka. At first she thought it was regular nightmares. Sheâs had a few since the first overblot with riddle in the past. But those went away a little after.
But the ones now. Theyâre different.
She sees herself in a field of white roses that soon turn red before they start moving weird. The closer look she gets of them, the more she realizes they look more like hearts.
Actual human hearts.
Then she sees you. Staring at her with a straight face. She calls your name but you donât answer. She tries to get closer but the more she walks and soon runs, the farther you get away.
And when she finally gets close, she gasps as she sees that you arenâtâŠalive.
You were dead the whole time
The third person didnât get nightmares yet, instead they would see things. And unfortunately, it was Yuuna.
It happened when she was walking to the bathroom in the middle of the night. Sheâs had drinked too much water that day and was really in need of using the bathroom. She walked in without knocking and before she had the chance of turning on the light she screamed when she saw a huge and disturbing figure standing in the bathroom. The lights immediately turned on and you rushed out the bathroom with a worried look.
âYuuna! Are you okay?â You asked her. You were worried and she didnât know how to respond.
Maybe she watched too many scary movies with epel the night before, thatâs why!
Haha!
Right?
âIâm fine! So sorry for screaming like thatâ
âSo sorry for scaring youâ Maybe it was just the paranoia, but something flashed in those eyes of yours when you said that.
But she chose to ignore it
The second time it happened, she couldnât ignore it. The two of you were sitting on a bench sharing a snack together. She was busy talking while you listened. At one point she turns to you to get your opinion about the topic and her face pales as she meets your eyes.
Half of your face was rotting.
And when she blinked, it was gone.
âAre you okay yuu?â
The fourth person was yuuta
His werenât as bad as the rest, but it doesnât make it any less eerie and unsettling.
He dreams about you. A lot.
You look beautiful in his dreams. But he never sees your face. Your back is always facing him and you have on a beautiful white dress as you run in what looks like a field.
He doesnât understand them at first, why is he dreaming about you?
You always guide him in these dreams. Somewhere far by how much the two of you walk. Youâre always in front of him. When he first started getting these dreams, it was always in that same grassy field.
But as days and weeks go by, the scenery slowly starts changing.
In the distance, he can see a dark and mysterious cave, very different from the peaceful and quiet surroundings he was used to.
And as he keeps dreaming, the closer he gets to it.
The last one is grim.
Oh grim
Heâs cradled in your arms as you laugh and talk to him. Heâs not sure what youâre saying, it all sounds muffled but he enjoys your company.
But the one thing that he canât help but look at every now and then is the strange looking figure that stands behind you. Itâs not close to the two of you, in fact itâs standing very far away.
But it has been there since he started having these dreams.
Looking
From far away
And he swears that as each dream comes and goes, it gets closer.
By this point, they know something is wrong. They know that whatever is currently living with them isnât you. Itâs stupid. Really stupid because even when it shows itself to them, they turn a blind eye to it. They act like itâs not there. Because if they try to acknowledge it, if they learn the real truth about what happened to you.
They wouldnât be able to take it.
-
It canât be too late. It canât!
Heâs been staying up a lot lately, actually no! For months. For months Lilia has been staying up late at night doing research and trying to find a solution to this problem. He knows he still has time, he canât fail!
He can still save you, right?
Silver has been worried, he knows that his father wouldnât go sick by not sleeping. After all his father is a fae.
But that doesnât mean he isnât worried about Liliaâs wellbeing.
Silver and sebek donât know what Lilia has been trying to look for in the last 4 months, but whatever it is must be serious to have him like this.
Malleus knows somethingâs wrong.
Ever since that night Lilia came to his bedchambers and forbade him from ever being near ramshackle territory, he knew something wasnât right.
And heâs seen it first hand.
You
You arenât right
He hasnât talked to you since the night of kalims party. That morning he only asked you one question.
âAre you doing well?â And he was sincere about it. Heâs seen how stressed and sick you were. Heâs sat and listen to yuuka rant about how worried she was about you because of your constant nightmares.
And when he would accompany yuuta to Samâs shop so he can look for the ingredients for your soups that he would make you when you would get sick.
Heâs seen it all.
And he always has seen how much you changed.
You were always so awkward and quiet. Sitting quietly in your seat during class and listening rather than talking when you were with the yuus and friends.
Heâs taken a liking to you, seeing how similar you guys were. Always being forgotten and never invited to any events.
But now, when he walks the halls of Night Raven and catches a glimpse of you during passing period.
He knows itâs not you.
-
No one knows what truly happened that night. Yuuken has come to terms with the fact that maybe, he really did come too late. The person he come to love while being here isnât herself anymore. That whatever is currently living underneath their roof isnât her.
He misses you dearly, he regrets not being there that night. Whatever happened to you, he just hopes it was fast and painless.
âYuuken!â He turns to see you. You wave him down as you show him that wonderful smile of yours.
Sometimes the thing that plays you messes up. You wouldnât have smiled that way, nor would you have said something like that, you wouldnât have acted like that at all, you hated the texture of that specific dish.
The scar on your neck, it slowly fades overtime. But he can still see the faint outline of claws. You always cover it with makeup or your hair when youâre able to. He avoids meeting your eyes when you catch him looking at it, you find it amusing.
âDonât worry, it healsâ
He ignores that too.
âWhat was that?â
âOh nothing!â
-
Itâs one of those nights again. He looks around at his surroundings.
Huh?
Weird, itâs not usually the same old dark and gloomy dreams heâs been having for months.
No
Instead its, calm? And peaceful. He seems to be in some sort of field? The sun shines brightly and the wind blows softly, so calm, so peaceful, soâŠyou.
âYuuken?â His heart flutters. He turns around to see you. You looked at him confused, why is he here?
âY/n?â
âWhat are you doing here?â
âThis is my dreamâŠâ
âDream?â He nods. Your eyes lit up and you quickly run to him. You embrace him in a tight hug, yuuken despite being confused and slightly flustered hugs you back.
âI donât know how much time we have until you wake up or I disappear but listen to me carefullyâ
Oh?
âThat person, that âversionâ of me, itâs not meâ
âDonât trust it, donât believe it, itâs. Not. Me. It took over me, it copied my face, my body, my personality- everything about me!â
âBut why? Why you?â He holds your hands tightly. Because why? Why you? Why did it come after you?
The person he loves
âBecauseâŠ.because I was in a really bad place. I was vulnerable and alone and scared- I couldnât do it anymoreâ
âIt fed off my negative emotionsâ You were now crying. He gently wipes away your tears with his thumb. He makes you look at him as the two of you hold eye contact.
âYou- You shouldâve told meâŠif I knew that night that something was wrong then I wouldâve stopped it from taking you-â
âIt still wouldâve taken me, even if it wasnât on that night specificallyâ
âMâsorry yuuâŠâ Your grip on his shirt grows tighter as you sense that heâs about to wake up.
âYuukenâŠI never really got to tell you thisâŠâ
âBut I love you!â In that moment, he feels your lips against his. He feels sparks as the two of you kiss.
He breaks it off by holding your face with his hands and blurting out those same words.
âI love you too!â
Yuuken immediately jolts awake with a loud gasp.
And in that same moment he sees something.
A white light
His phone rings. Heâs still staring at the random white light thatâs glowing in the middle of his room.
His phone continues to ring
What the hell?
He doesnât know how but his phone answers the call and almost immediately heâs broken out of his daze.
âDonât look at it!â
âWhat?â On the other end of the line is a panting Lilia.
âYuuken whatever you do donât follow it!â He says. He seems to be running, but where?
âIâm almost near ramshackle! Donât let you or the others follow that light!â After that sentence, from his doorway he can see yuuta along with grim walk past.
Almost likeâŠ
THE LIGHT
Yuuken immediately jumps out of bed and dashes out the door to his room. He sees yuuta and grim follow the light as they slowly make their way to the stairs. He rushes over to them in a flash.
âNo! Donât follow it!â He screams. He grabs ahold of both yuuta and grim. Forcing them to look away. By some miracle the two broke out of what seemed to be a spell. They look at Yuuken confused before gasping as they see yuuka and Yuuna.
They were already outside.
âNo! Yuuka! Yuuna!â He screams. He runs down the stairs to stop the two young girls as yuuta and grim follow suit.
Yuuken managed to grab Yuuna and snap her out of the trance before he looks over to see yuuka getting farther and farther away.
He runs after her, heart pumping as he goes to get her before she enters the woods.
And it seems like the great sevens have heard him as Lilia flys almost immediately to grab and tackle yuuka against the floor. She breaks out of whatever spell she was under as she looks at lilia confused.
What the fuck is happening?
âLilia, what is this?â
âŠ.
The look that he wore. It looked almost likeâŠdefeat? But why?
Lilia turns to glare at the woods behind him. His fist clenched as he stares at it longer.
âLiliaâŠwhatâs Happening?â
âDoes this have to do withâŠy/n?â
âIâm sorry yuukenâŠsheâs long goneâ
âGuysâŠâ The rest turn to yuuta, who is looking at the forest behind them.
Itâs like theyâre seeing a ghost. Itâs you.
The real you
âY-y/n?â Grim chokes out. You look stunning. But also different. You smile. YOUR smile. You hold something in your hands, and in an instant, Lilia already knows what it is.
Itâs a sharp red dagger
You set it down on the ground before taking a step back, and running back inside the woods.
âWh-â
âWe have to follow her!â Yuuta screams. Lilia follows after him and soon the rest get up and run after them too.
âI seen this beforeâŠâ
The dreams
All this time, youâve been showing yuuta where to find you.
Lilia uses his fae speed to catch up to you. Somewhere deep down reassured him that this you meant no harm.
You also want this to end
Theyâre getting farther and farther away from the dorm. Farther away from night Raven and farther away from any civilization.
But they didnât care.
They slowly came to a halt as you ran inside a dark and eerie cave.
âSheâs in thereâ
âHow are you so sure? What if itâs a trap to lure us in?â
âBecause Iâve seen itâ They all look at yuuta.
âAll this timeâŠsheâs been showing me the way to find herâŠ.the real herâ
âYouâŠyou been dreaming about her too?â Yuuka asks. Everyone looks at each other before slowly confirming.
âSheâs been giving us cluesâŠabout what happened to her and where she isâ
âThenâŠwho was with us? â Chills went down everyone spines at that question. Who was that version of you? That was with them this whole entire time.
âIt was the entityâ Lilia whispers.
âIf it took her appearanceâŠitâs most likely-â
âSheâs dead..â Yuuna immediately begins to tear up. Grim hides behind yuuta as the thought of You beingâŠgone settles in his head.
âNoâŠwe have to hope!â Yuuna cries.
âWhatever she gave us, does this have to do something with the entity? â
âShe gave us the one thing that can help stop thisâ The dagger glistens underneath the moonlight.
Their eyes move to where the cave entrance was.
âŠ
Itâs time.
It was dark and cold. Yuuta begins to follow the path where you took him in his dreams. As he guides everyone follows, Lilia holds the dagger close the deeper they go.
The deeper they go, the stronger the foul stench grows.
âŠ
Yuuta comes to a complete stop. There you stood, staring at them menacingly.
Itâs the entity
âLong time no see, yuusâ
The fight lasted longer than expected. The moment Lilia laid eyes on it he pounced. Magic after magic as he fought this ancient creature as it taunted not only him but also the yuus and grim.
Oh grim
He was devastated. He tried to keep his emotions in check as he blowed hot fire towards it, being a bit hesitant because the cruel entity still decided to play as you.
But they managed to defeat it. Because as it was about to claw Lilia yuuken was able to pierced its chest with the red dagger behind its back.
A loud and ancient sound escaped its mouth that night as it thrashed and glitched between you and its true form. But at last, it was over.
During its final moments it finally crawled out of you, trying to save bits of itself but lilia was fast enough to stop it. You were finally at peace. This nightmare was finally over.
Yuuken was happy, happy to know that you are now at peace and that you can finally rest.
But another part of him was devastated.
You suffered so much. And he canât help but to blame himself.
âDonât blame yourselfâ He breaks out of his thoughts. Lilia is staring at him.
âShe wouldnât like to see you blaming yourselfâ He gently pats the young boys back.
âBesides, sheâs happy that she was finally able to confess her love to you before she fully leftâ
âAnd even more happier knowing itâs mutualâ
How did he?
âI have my waysâ The older fae winks at him.
Everyone is finally at peaceâŠ
-
I AM SO SORRY FOR MAKING EVERYONE WAIT 8 MONTHS COR TGISđđđ
also sorry for rushed ending I was literally dying writing all this (not literally but yk)
But yes itâs finally here!
Some things did change sorry about that but I hope you guys arenât disappointed with how everything turned outđ and yes, sad ending because I never really planned on it having a happily ever after ending.
Hihi, would you be interested in writing a sebek x reader story? (Reader doesn't have to be Yuu)
I don't know if we're supposed to write specific details, but maybe something about Sebek being terribly nervous about his first date with the reader and asking everyone for advice.
But any story idea is fine!!
Hi!! Tysm for requesting <3 I didnât mention it, but yes details are very helpful!! Itâs my first time writing sebek so I really hope youâll like it đ
Something about you
Sebek Zigvolt x reader
WC : 1,060
In which a knight tries to show his devotion
âMASTER LILIA I SEEK YOUR ADVICE ON AN IMPORTANT MATTER!â Boomed Sebek's voice in Diasomnia one day
âNo need to shout Sebek, I am right here.â Lila gently told him from his space on the couch. âCome, sit and tell me what you need help with.â the senior patted the space next to him.
âWell i-i.â The first year stuttered as if he suddenly couldn't speak, and to Liliaâs surprise, he even refused to meet him in the eye. The bat fae suddenly grew very curious of what caused the normally loud and confident Sebek to end up in such a state.
âGo on, no need to be so nervous.â Lilia gently tried to encourage the boy. He was sure he'd be prepared no matter what Sebek threw at him, after all he's been training the boy since he was young, and has seen him go through many different stages of life.
âI have invited the ramshackle prefect on a date, but I am shamefully unprepared when it comes to such matters.â Sebek finally admitted with light pink dusting his cheeks and the tip of his ears.
âA date? How wonderful!â Lilia couldn't help but exclaim, after all he noticed the growing affection Sebek had for the prefect and was happy Sebek decided to act on it.
âWho has a date?âSilver asked as he entered the diasomnia lounge.
âSILVER THIS DOES NOT CON-â
âOur dear Sebek has asked the prefect on a date!â
âMASTER LILIA!â
Just as Sebek was about to protest Silver being a part of this conversation, another person walked through the door.
âHm? Sebek is courting the child of man?â asked Malleus with a hint of surprise in his voice.
âLORD MALLEUS! I DEEPLY APOLOGISE FOR USING THE COMMON SPACE FOR MY PERSONAL CONCERNS, I SHALL-â
âIt's alright Sebek, in fact I am quite curious about this so called date with the prefect myself.â Malleusâ face remained unchanged for the most part, but Lilia could see the slight upward quirk of his lips.
After that, both Malleus and Lilia started giving the young half fae advice, and he was sure Silver would've offered some as well if he hadn't fallen asleep as soon as he sat down next to his father.
âYou could serenade them outside their window, why you could even compose the song yourself!â Lilia offered enthusiastically.
âNonsense lilia, that would simply scare them off,â Malleus scoffed at the idea. âSebek, what you should do is take them on a walk in the ruins of the castle close to the woods behind ramshackle.â Malleus said with a smile on his face.
âWhat? how is that romantic at all?â Lilia asked incredulously.
âWell, it is certainly better than your idea,â the prince pouted.
While the two older fae were arguing over who had the better idea, Sebek was even more lost than before. He truly wanted to impress you, but he simply had no idea how.
âHave you taken in consideration what the prefect will enjoy the most?â Silver suddenly spoke, having woken up a short while ago.
âWho do you take me for, Silver?! Of course I have!â Sebek answered with much vitriol. But in truth, he hasn't really taken what you like into account, he was so nervous trying to come up with the perfect date, he forgot the most important aspect of it, you.
And suddenly an idea came to mind, something you made as a passing comment, that the devoted knight nonetheless remembered.
After thanking both Malleus and Lilia for their contribution (nevermind that it was Silver who helped in the end), he retreated to the kitchen and started preparing for your date tomorrow.
âWow, this place is so beautiful!â You exclaimed upon seeing the place Sebek brought you to.
After passing the woods behind your dorm, you were welcomed by the sight of a cliff that overlooked the ocean below, and the sky that you were sure reflected your own feelings, serene without a cloud in sight.
âOf course it is, I have chosen it after all!â Sebek boasted with pride and then added a much quieter âI am glad you like it.â
âAnd the weather is perfect for a picnic, too!â You smiled as you turned to him. âLet me help you set it up.â
âNo need, what kind of knight would I be if I let my beloved do the work? I would bring shame to Lord Malleus!â he declared, but quickly panicked upon seeing the look on your face. âWhat is the matter? Is something not to your liking?!â
âI'm your beloved?â You asked as you felt heat rising to your face.
Of course, it was nothing compared to the brilliant crimson Sebek was starting to show on his cheeks and ears.
âW-well, it is simply a-a manner of speakingâ he quickly spurred.
âSo am I not your beloved then?â You pretended to be upset, but in truth you just wanted to mess with him a little.
âN-no that's not-â he paused when he saw you laugh.
âI'm just kidding, Sebekâ You told him in between laughs, âI'm gonna let you finish setting up and then we can start eating.â And you turned your eyes back to the view in front of you, missing the complicated expression on the half faeâs face.
He said it when you were halfway into finishing your food
âI do think of you as my beloved.â Sebek declared, electric green eyes locked into yours, and you almost spat out your food.
âYou do?â You asked a bit sheepishly, you had quite the crush on Sebek for a while, but wasnât this a little too early?
âI-i do, i am aware that this may seem hasty on my part,â He began, and even as he was getting redder, he still never broke eye contact, âBut it is how I truly feel. I am aware sometimes I can be⊠loud and brash, but I promise I will always cherish you and you will always have my devotion if you choose to continue our courtingâ The way he was so earnest reminded you of stories from back home of a knight declaring his love to a princess.
He was starting to get nervous waiting for you to reply. But why would he be? After all there was only one answer.
desc: five years after graduation, NRC holds a masquerade ball for the alumni. old classmates find each other, recognizing each other through the masks. unexpectedly, the famous Vil Schoenheit arrives with an unknown woman by his side. or is she really that unknown?
word count: 4.7k
warnings: none
The first thing you notice when you arrive at Night Raven College is that the roses are still alive.Â
It was ridiculous to you. Out of everything you could have noticed, it was the deep crimson roses that looked just as beautiful as when you had been attending the school.Â
For a moment, the years from then and now had disappeared. It made your chest ache with a familiar feeling of nostalgia.Â
You felt like you could almost hear Ace and Grim bickering in the courtyard in the distance, all while Deuce fought to break them up, or Crowley pretending that the school wasnât in a constant state of disarray from his lack of effort.Â
Night Raven College had always been a chaotic mess while you were there, but it was also your first home in this world.Â
Standing here now, dressed in a flowing violet and silver embroidered dress, beneath the school's floating lanterns, you realize that you never stopped missing this place.Â
Beside you, Vil noticed your gaze at the roses.
âYouâre staring again,â he hummed next to you.Â
You glance over to him, a faint smile on your lips. âI was just remembering some things.âÂ
âYes, I assumed as much. You have that look of longing new actors could only dream of perfecting.â
âOh, please. You say that about any ounce of emotion people show on their face.âÂ
âItâs not my fault they canât make a face that looks accurate to their words.â Â
Your laughter slips out before you can stop it.
Vilâs gaze flickers over to you at the sound, and something in his expression softens. So small it was nearly imperceptible.Â
It wasnât enough for any passerby to notice. But it was enough for you.Â
It was always enough for you.Â
The five years had changed him. Anyone was able to see that.Â
Vil Schoenheit had already been so beautiful that it was intimidating. Now at twenty-three, he had become so refined in a way that everything appeared effortless, something so elegantly lethal. Somehow, despite all that, you are the one next to him that he chooses every time. His personal safe place and home.Â
âYou think loudly,â he murmurs as he brushes the hair from your face.Â
âLike you can hear my thoughts.âÂ
âWhen you're being this reminiscent, it's hard not to.â Â
Tonight already feels strangely special.Â
Not because of the masquerade itself, although you must say that the campus looks entirely too enchanting. But because the two of you havenât been able to attend and properly enjoy a ball like this in quite some time. Not properly, anyway.Â
There were always cameras that followed him.
You were able to hear the music from just outside the entrance of the school. You glance toward him again, unable to keep yourself from smiling.Â
âWhat?âÂ
âIâm excited.âÂ
Vil pauses. âYouâve been talking about this ball for the past two weeks.âÂ
âBecause we never get to attend things like this anymore.âÂ
âYou attended the Fleur City premiere with me just last month, though?âÂ
âThat doesnât count, and you know it.âÂ
âYou looked beautiful.âÂ
âYou were working.âÂ
Vil opens his mouth to respond, but closes it quickly, knowing that you werenât wrong. All of the events you had gone to together, you both had to act for the cameras, and half the time, he was dragged away to talk to other co-workers.Â
Above you, the lanterns floated, the orchestra becoming louder as you approached the ballroom. And for the first time in a while, everything feels lighter.Â
You slip your hands behind your back, rocking on your heels slightly as you look around the campus.Â
âYou know,â you spoke, âI think Crowley may have actually done something good for once.âÂ
Vil chuckles, âDonât say that aloud. Youâll only encourage his silly ideas.âÂ
You laugh with him. Sevens, you missed this.Â
Not just being a student here, or at the school. But being here like this with him.Â
With the quiet moments, where you are both able to be yourself.Â
âYouâre bouncing.âÂ
âI am doing no such thing.âÂ
âYou are.âÂ
âSevens forbid Iâm excited.âÂ
âYouâre behaving like grim in your first year.âÂ
You scoff jokingly, âThatâs mean.âÂ
âItâs accurate.âÂ
You grin shamelessly, âand yet you still stare at me with all the care in the world.âÂ
Vil sighs through his nose as though he were burdened by this revelation.Â
âYouâre insufferable tonight.âÂ
âYet you love me deeply.âÂ
âI tolerate you generously.âÂ
âVil.âÂ
âYes,â he says, âI am devastatingly, hopelessly, unfortunately in love with you. There, are you satisfied?âÂ
You beam, âVery.â
His face changes from exasperation to a small smile as he holds his arm out for you to take. Your arms are intertwined as you walk toward the entrance of the hall. Despite it coming naturally now after five years, it still made your chest feel warm.Â
You remember when something this simple used to be so nerve-wracking to you.Â
Back then, getting the chance to love Vil felt so dangerous in ways you couldnât properly explain. He was already destined for fame and greatness before graduation, already carrying more ambitions than half the student population. You were always worried you would hold him back from that.Â
However, Vil had looked at all of your fears and dismantled every single one. He did so with terrifying precision, too, making sure not to leave you with a single reason to be afraid.Â
âYou speak as though loving you would ruin my future,â he had said quietly one night.
You had nearly cried that night. Not because he was cruel, but because he was the complete opposite.Â
Vil loved fiercely once he allowed himself to. Being loved by Vil was like standing in the warm sunlight after being stuck out in the cold for years.Â
The memory still gave you the feeling of butterflies in the best way, even though you used to hate the feeling of them.Â
Two security guards open the doors as you approach. Walking into the ballroom, the air changes around you two. People part for the two of you while they stare.Â
People notice Vil immediately. How could they not? Even now, when everyone knows him from his school years, he enters with a regal air around him, as if he were made for people to stare. Â
Quickly, people begin to notice your presence, too. Curious murmurs ripple through the crowd of people watching. Many were wondering who you were. Others are wondering your status, considering Vil Schoenheit never arrives with anyone so casually.Â
The ballroom itself was unreal. It glowed with magic. Sparkling constellations decorate the ceiling, along with silver ribbons decorating the walls.Â
âThis is beautiful,â you whisper.Â
Vil looks at you through his mask, âYou sound impressed.âÂ
âI am impressed.âÂ
âGood. You should be.âÂ
You shake your head at him fondly. Nearby, conversations are already trying to solve your identity. You take two champagne glasses from a waiterâs tray passing by. You hand the second one to Vil.Â
He takes it without a glance in your direction, his attention still on the crowd. These were small habits you both picked up after a while. Thoughtless gestures built over the events together.Â
Leona notices it first.
He watched as Vil leaned down to hear you over the music.Â
âNo way,â he mutters to no one in particular.Â
Ruggie looks up, âWhat?âÂ
Leona snorts into his drink. âNothing.â Â
Across the room, Ace nearly chokes on his drink. He smacks his hand against Deuceâs chest to get his attention.Â
âJuice, do we know them?â Ace asks.Â
Deuce doesnât bother to look up from his glass before replying, âAce, you thought Professor Trein was the Ghost Bride.âÂ
âThat was one time.âÂ
Next to them, Epel looks at you over his glass. âWait a second,â he squints at you.Â
You immediately turn your face toward Vil before any of them could stare any longer. You giggle to yourself at how fun this was.Â
Vilâs lips twitch faintly beneath the rim of his glass. âYou are enjoying this far more than you claimed you would.âÂ
âMaybe just a little.âÂ
âOf course you are.âÂ
âYouâre one to talk,â you nudge him lightly. âYou look delighted.âÂ
âI always look delighted.âÂ
âFine, you look smug.âÂ
âThat too.âÂ
The orchestra shifts to a slower melody, and the strings play throughout the room delicately. Everything felt like a dream. Â
The sort of memory that will only exist as it is happening. Unable to be captured by photos or videos. You glance around the room once more.Â
NRC was beautiful, more beautiful than you had remembered. It was fitting for the old castle, and the attention to detail at the school never left you anything short of amazed when you were there as a student.Â
Everywhere you looked, you saw familiar faces, more grown up and aged slightly over five years. Your eyes landed on your old friend group.
Ace had grown into his confidence, no longer forcing himself to be the loudest in the room. However, the constant glint of mischief never seemed to have gone. Deuce carried himself in a way that would have shocked his first-year self, he was calmer and more composed. Epel had sharpened around the edges over the last few years, his sweet appearance had become his own. Jack held an air that made him more dependable, it was grounding even from a distance. Sebekâs intensity seemed to have become quieter, and much more intimidating.Â
Staring at them from afar, you realize you missed them above all, more than attending NRC. While off in your own world of wondering how your friends were, you felt a shift in the hand around your arm. Before you could turn to Vil to say anything, a familiar face appeared before you two.Â
White hair bounced into your vision, followed closely by someone with long black hair.Â
Jamil, who wasnât far behind, already looked exhausted. He was mumbling something to himself tiredly before looking up, âYou say that as though he wasnât invited.âÂ
âHe almost wasnât,â you turned to see Azul walking over to you all. âCrowly nearly had a breakdown just trying to plan security for this event, especially after Vil confirmed his attendance.âÂ
Vil sighs dramatically, âYou say that as if I asked for all of that fuss.âÂ
âYou absolutely expect it, though,â Floyd chimes in from somewhere nearby.Â
You bite back a smile. And for a moment, no one seems to notice your presence. Their attention remains mostly fixated on Vil, which has begun to feel normal.Â
You look over toward Kalim and see that he is already watching you.Â
His eyes widen behind his mask, and he grins widely.Â
âOh,â he says, âyouâre very pretty.âÂ
Vil preens at the compliment as though it were said to him. He knew he was very lucky to be attending this with you, as you two were the most beautiful couple anyone had seen before.Â
You laugh, âThank you.âÂ
âYou seem nice too,â he adds.Â
âCan you?âÂ
âYeah,â he trails off, âVil usually looks kind of scary at parties like this, but he looks super happy right now.âÂ
Vil looks horrified at this revelation, âI do not look scary.âÂ
Jamil deadpans at the man, âYou absolutely do.â
âHow unfortunate that must be for all of you,â Vil states.Â
You hid your smile behind your glass.Â
Everyone you hadnât seen in the longest time, finally together again. Old friends teasing each other like no time had passed. Everyoneâs curiosity grew with your enjoyment. No one had recognized you. Not yet, at least.Â
Many people only saw Vilâs performances and presumed he would be too exhausting to love. They were wrong. Yes, Vil did expect excellence from the world and himself alike, but when he was with you, there was so much gentleness.Â
When you think about loving him, you donât see him as a celebrity or the legacy of the fairest queen in all of twisted wonderland. You see him as himself.Â
The orchestra swelled into yet another melody. This time, it was long and romantic. Conversations quiet as more people move toward the floor, Vil holds out his arm expectantly.Â
You look up at him with confusion on your face.Â
âYou want to dance, am I wrong?âÂ
You brighten and take hold of his arm.
As you look at him, everything around you stills. There were no reporters near to bother you, there were no interviews lined up, and there was no work to be done. It was just you and Vil.Â
The music flowed through the room, and Vilâs hand found the side of your waist. Even now, as you stood lost in each otherâs gaze, he looked unreal. His pale hair catches the light, similar to how his violet bejeweled mask does.Â
Vil guided you to the center of the floor slowly, the crowd parting around you. The candlelight from the chandelier hanging above you reflected across the marble.Â
The first step of the dance was impossibly soft. Vil drew you effortlessly into the dance, your dress sweeping across the floor in flowing waves of violet and silver sparkles.Â
The world narrowed until it was only you and him. You only felt the warmth in his hand, the look in his eyes.Â
Goodness, Vil was watching you like you had hung the moon and stars just for him. Dancing with him had always felt intimate, but tonight it felt different.Â
His gloved hand tightened around yours as he spun you around.Â
The music slowed further, and the two of you pulled closer. Your joined hands rested on his shoulder, and his other hand was steady on the side of your waist.Â
Vil lowered his head slightly, close enough so only you could hear, âYouâre radiant tonight.âÂ
You smiled, âYou already called me beautiful, Vil.âÂ
âThis is different.âÂ
For a moment, you forget the ballroom entirely.Â
Rook watches from the balcony above, his old friend and the mysterious stranger dancing around with no other thought on their mind. Never had he seen Vil so entranced with someone before, and he had never seen him so in love before.Â
You are filled with laughter as the two of you spin around endlessly, and Vil looks undone by the sound of it. There is something boyish in his expression, something much younger.Â
âYouâre drifting again,â he hums.Â
âIâm sorry.âÂ
âNo, you arenât.âÂ
âI canât help it when I'm with you.âÂ
The song slows to its final movement. Around you, the ballroom had fallen quiet. All of them are watching you.Â
âYou know,â you mutter, âtheyâre definitely still gossiping about us.âÂ
âThey have been for years.âÂ
âTrue,â you admit.Â
His thumbs brush against your waist, âand weâll let them.âÂ
Even back at NRC, rumors would follow him everywhere. People would gossip about anything they could think of, from his grades to the people he spent time with. There had always been eyes on him, from when you met him to now.Â
At seventeen, it used to exhaust him more than heâd like to admit. At twenty-three, he wears it purposefully. Tonight, the attention shifted to you, who stood so naturally beside him.Â
The final notes of the song ring out as Vil spins you a final time. Applause ripples through the room as people move off the dance floor with you.Â
âYou enjoyed that far too much,â he says.Â
âAnd you were the one who was trying to seduce me through the choreography.âÂ
Vil looks entirely unapologetic, âand?âÂ
You shake your head while accepting another glass from a passing tray.Â
âIâve literally never seen him look at anyone like that,â Epel said, âNot even Rook.âÂ
âDo you think theyâve been dating long?â Jack asks.Â
Nearby, a certain card soldier is recording himself, âThis is the best reunion ever, like this is totes iconic. There is literally a mystery romance going on, and no one can figure out who it is.âÂ
He puts his phone away, a rare occurrence for him, and he wanders over to you. You smile as he approaches.
âHey, donât mean to be #annoying or anything, but I was wondering if I knew you from somewhere?â Cater asked.Â
âHm, I donât know if you do know me,â you shrug.Â
âHm.â Cater stares at you for a moment, and your pulse skips. âWell I hope we at least get to know each other soon, you seem so fun!âÂ
Epel was still staring at you whenever he felt like you wouldnât notice. Unfortunately, you and Vil both did.Â
âEpel, I thought I would have taught you not to stare, no?â Vil chastises.Â
Epel jumps, âI donât know, did you?âÂ
Before you have a chance to join the conversation, another familiar voice from before cuts through.Â
âWell,â Azul says thoughtfully, âwhoever you may be, you have accomplished something I had previously believed to be impossible.âÂ
You glance toward him, âand what might that be?âÂ
Azul adjusts his glasses, âYouâve somehow managed to make Vil pleasant at a social function.âÂ
Vil sighs, âMust we all speak as though I am some sort of hostile animal? I am not that difficult to talk to normally.âÂ
âYes,â Floyd answers for Azul. âYou do glare at people often.âÂ
âWell, most people are irritating.âÂ
âAnd yet,â Azul continues, his gaze flicking toward you, âyou seem to be remarkably relaxed tonight.âÂ
Floyd gasps at this, âOh my sevens, you have heart eyes, betta fish.âÂ
âI do not have heart eyes, what an absurd phrase.â Vil scoffs. Â
Vil looks moments away from using his unique magic on someone, while you try to hold back your laughter.Â
Across the ballroom, more familiar faces begin to come closer, one by one. Riddle arrives looking as elegant as ever. However, his expression shifted when he saw Vil standing beside you.
âHow interesting,â he says carefully.
âI know, right, Riddle, do you want to hear what Iâve gathered?âÂ
Riddle ignores Caterâs attempts to gossip with him as his eyes narrow toward you.Â
âYou dance very well,â he says politely.Â
âThank you.âÂ
âYou seem familiar. Do I know you from anywhere?âÂ
You blink in surprise. Vil notices quickly, and his hand settles against the small of your back.Â
You realize that it isnât just Vilâs arrival with you that surprised them. It was the way he looked at you.Â
Vil had always been so open with you, you never noticed the difference. He hadnât attempted to hide his love for you from anyone tonight.Â
The entire night now feels suspended between the dream you had imagined before and a fairytale. Beside one of the windows, Sebek stood, now with the group he had spent his first year at NRC with.Â
Lilia stood next to him, staring contentedly at you with his ever mischievous grin. Malleus stands beside him, also watching you. Unlike everyone else, they don't look confused. Malleusâ eyes met yours across the room.
Of course, they, of all people, recognize you. You spent too much time around them for them not to. Silver follows their gaze in confusion.Â
âDo you know who she is?â He asks.Â
Malleus lifts his glass slightly without breaking eye contact. âI believe that tonightâs mystery may not remain mysterious much longer.âÂ
âOh, is that so?â Lilia says delightedly.Â
On the other end of the room, Ace was still spiraling.Â
âNo, because this is seriously driving me insane,â he complains to Deuce, âI swear I know them. There's just something about them.âÂ
âYou claim to know everyone, Ace.â Deuce sighs exasperated.Â
âNo, but this is different.âÂ
âYou said that about the barista the other day. Please give it a rest.âÂ
You laugh under your breath at everyoneâs confusion. Your eyes sweep across the room, a few people you had yet to reunite with, while they donât know it's you, you still got the reunion you wanted. Your eyes land on the dance floor again, lingering for a few seconds longer.Â
Vil notices, âDo you wish to dance more?âÂ
âI always want another dance with you.âÂ
âYou say things like that so very casually,â he murmurs.Â
âItâs your fault for being so romantic.âÂ
âI am not romantic.âÂ
From somewhere nearby, you hear people laughing at what they heard.Â
âYou wrote poetry once,â you remind him softly.Â
Vil looks horrified at the reminder. âWe agreed to never discuss that again, I thought.âÂ
Ace gasps, âYou wrote poetry?âÂ
âIt was one time.âÂ
âHow bad was it?â Epel asks you eagerly.Â
Vil points a perfectly manicured nail at him. âDonât start.âÂ
You grin, âIt wasnât bad.âÂ
Vil looked like he would rather praise Niege than be here at this moment. As the conversations between you all continue, the music begins to fade as a microphone crackles to life.Â
âHello, dear Night Raven Alumni,â Crowley begins, âI would just like to remind everyone that at the end of the night, you are to remove your masks so you can properly catch up with those around you. The clock will strike midnight soon, dear alumni.âÂ
And as quick as he was to interrupt, Crowley disappeared into the crowd and left it at that.Â
You continue to catch up with your friends through Vilâs conversations with them, while you intently listen and occasionally add your thoughts.Â
Soon, the clock chimes, and you can hear Crowley call out from somewhere in the room that it is time to remove the masks.Â
Vil exhales next to you, âOf course it is.âÂ
He carefully removes his mask, careful of his hair. And you ask him for assistance as your hair had gotten tangled in it.Â
âHold still,â he warns you, his careful fingers brushing your hair out of the way. âHow did you even manage to get your hair tangled in this?âÂ
âYou say that like you werenât the one who suggested so many gemstones on my mask.âÂ
âThey completed the look,â he shrugged.Â
Around the ballroom, masks begin to slip away one by one. Laughter rises as old classmates recognize each other fully for the first time this evening.Â
Ace is in the middle of accusing Deuce of having the âleast interesting mask in existenceâ as Vil steps back from you.Â
âThere,â he says. âAll fixed.âÂ
Your finger reaches up to pull away the sparkling mask. As it slips from your face, you see the wave of recognition within all of your friends.Â
Now they can tell there is something familiar there, from the curve of your smile to the way you stand beside Vil as if you had always belonged there. The ballroom falls silent.Â
âOh, you have got to be kidding me.â Ace stares at you in astonishment.Â
You start to laugh before your mask is even fully off. âHi, Ace.âÂ
âPrefect?!âÂ
Deuce looks like his soul is about to leave his body. âNo, there's no way.âÂ
Epel is standing with his mouth agape. âI knew it. I know something was familiar.âÂ
âAnd everybody was trying to make me feel like I was losing my mind!â Ace adds. âYouâre telling me I spent three hours confused over someone I literally lived with?âÂ
âYou thought Professor Trein was the ghost bride once,â you remind him sweetly.Â
âThat was once.âÂ
âActually,â Deuce says carefully, âI think it was twice.âÂ
âIt was not twice.âÂ
âIt was twice I remember it,â Epel cuts in.Â
Beside you, Vil lets out a sigh through his nose. âHow embarrassing for all of you,â he says. âHonestly, I expected at least one of you to figure it out.âÂ
âWait pause, Vil,â Cater points accusingly at him. âYou brought the prefect here and didnât tell anyone?âÂ
And before anyone could answer, Kalim sprinted at you full speed, âI knew you felt familiar prefect!!â he beams, practically glowing. âYou look amazing!âÂ
You barely manage to laugh as he wraps you in a hug.Â
âIt's good to see you, too, Kalim.âÂ
âSome of us were able to figure it out sooner than others,â Lilia muses from the window.Â
Malleus nods to you, amused by all of the chaos you had managed to cause. âChild of man.â
You nodded back at him. âItâs been a while.âÂ
Sebek looks offended, âYou were standing there the whole night?âÂ
âTo be fair,â you laugh, âthe masks were kind of the point.âÂ
âAh, what magnificence,â Rook declares from the balcony above you, a hand over his heart, âTo think the mysterious belle beside Roi du Poison was none other than our beloved trickster all along. How romantic!âÂ
âRook,â Vil says flatly.Â
It was too late to stop him as he had already begun his rant on how beautiful the dance was and how perfectly theatrical everything was.Â
Vil pinches the bridge of his nose. âI regret attending this event.âÂ
âNo, you donât,â you say immediately.Â
Vil doesnât say anything else, but he nods nonetheless.Â
Ace stares at him, âOh my sevens, heâs down bad.âÂ
âI hate that phrase,â Vil states, but doesnât disagree. He looks mere moments away from walking out of the ballroom.Â
Instead, you slip your hand into his, and he accepts it.Â
âVil Schoenheit appears to have become tame,â Jade says calmly.Â
âI am not tame,â Vil narrows his eyes. âYou all, however, are incredibly annoying.âÂ
âAnd youâre in love,â Ace grins.Â
âYes, obviously.âÂ
Everyone is still reeling from the new announcement of the couple standing before them. They take their time congratulating them. After his turn, Deuce squints at your left hand closely.Â
âWait a moment,â he says.Â
You and Vil watch him in amusement. âWhat is it, Deuce?âÂ
Deuce points at your hand, âWhat is that?â
Sitting on your hand was a ring no one had noticed, it was in no way anything small or subtle either. It was a breathtaking violet gemstone with diamond and silver detailing so intricate that it could only have been custom.Â
Cater gasps loud enough for several people to return their attention to the couple. âNo way.âÂ
You are already laughing in pure delight before he even starts his third spiral of the night.Â
Vil exhales like a man enduring an unimaginable hardship, âMust you yell?âÂ
âAre you two engaged?â Deuce accuses.Â
The room becomes silent, quiet enough for a pin drop to be heard. Vil grabs your hand within his and lifts it into view for everyone to see.Â
âYes,â he says smoothly. âWe are.âÂ
Ace looks to be one second away from dramatically collapsing onto the marble floor. âYou mean to tell me, my best friend disappeared after we graduated, gets secretly engaged to the Vil Schoenheit, and then returns to the reunion like nothing changed?âÂ
âIn my defence,â you grin. âI thought the masks would distract you longer.âÂ
Epel looks offended, âHow long have yâall even been engaged?âÂ
You glance toward Vil automatically.Â
âThree months,â Vil answers.Â
âThree?â Jack questions. âWhy hadnât you informed anyone?âÂ
âI wasnât aware we needed to,â Vil said.Â
 âOf course you do, we obviously have to be a part of the wedding,â Ace nudges your shoulder.Â
âI hate every single one of you,â Vil says as he massages his temple.Â
âNo you donât, Vil, stop saying that.â You say, Vil only nods and allows himself to admire you more.Â
Kalim has now taken hold of your hand, admiring the ring with sparkling eyes. âWow, it's so beautiful!âÂ
âIt should be,â Vil chimes in. âI designed it myself.âÂ
âOf course he did,â Azul sighs. âHonestly, that's the least surprising thing that's happened tonight.âÂ
âYouâre all acting as though this is shocking,â Vil says, although there is an unmistakable pride in his voice and posture.Â
âBut we didnât know that now, did we?â Epel argues.Â
âYou were just unobservant, that is no fault of ours.âÂ
You can barely breathe from laughing now. You were leaning slightly against Vilâs shoulder as everyone went back and forth. Despite all of the shouting and all of the teasing, Vil looks happier than you have seen him in a long time.Â
His smile was not forced for a camera, and he had returned to his old friends and classmates. This was the boy from school who used to sit beside you at night while studying. The one who gave you his heart and trusted you to love him before the world did.Â
You squeeze his hand gently. Then quieter, to just you, he leans in for only you to hear;Â
âYou do realize theyâll never stop talking about this, right?âÂ
You smile, âGood, that's what I was hoping for.âÂ
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This fic is based off the vignette where Sebek talks about how he would court someone he likes, as instructed by Lilia. I actually think Sebek would be such a devoted lover once he found someone he respected and liked enough to to pursue romantically :')
Your relationship with Sebek went from zero to a hundred within the blink of an eye.
One week he's yelling at you for breathing too close to his liege, and the next he's escorting you to all of your classes like a gentleman. All while yelling at everyone else for breathing too closely to you.
Okay. Perhaps that is a slight exaggeration. But the point still stands that you have a sneaking suspicion Sebek Zigvolt has developed a teensy bit of a crush on you. You came to this conclusion based on two key observations.
For starters, anytime you make the offensive mistake of carrying your own belongings in his presence, he makes it a point to snatch whatever it is from you. Which, at first you tried to protest. A big mistake.
"I am perfectly capable of holding my own stuff, Sebek. You really don't have toâ"
The words didn't even have a chance to leave your mouth before the bag was removed from your shoulder at a speed so alarming, you would almost think the bag carried a weapon and not two measly notebooks and a can of tuna you had found on clearance for Grim.
"NONSENSE." Sebek loudly declared, making several nearby students jump a mile high. Sebek carefully slung your bag over his own shoulder, all while glaring you down as if you had personally offended his entire bloodline.
"You need not burden yourself with unnecessary physical exertion! This is but one of the many duties any respectable knight should carry out!" He held his head high, clearly not seeing reason. He was being ridiculous, and you couldn't help but narrow your eyes at him.
"Uh huh... well, thank you Sebek. However would I have carried that incredibly heavy bag without the help of a strong, trustworthy knight? I may have threw my back out." Your words were laced with sarcasm, yet Sebek only took your words as the highest of praises. His cheeks dusted pink, and he immediately turned his head away from you so that you couldn't see the proud look on his face.
"Of course you would have! Humans are such fragile creatures, after all." He came to an abrupt halt as you reached your classroom, opening the door for you and ushering you inside so he could drop the bag off at your seat before rushing to his own class.
You tried to ignore Ace and Deuce's shit eating grin as they enjoyed watching you and your new personal escort.
"Right then! I shall return after class to ensure you reach your dorm safely. DO NOT TRY AND PICK UP THIS BAG IN MY ABSENCE, I cannot allow for your back to give way! In the meantime, study diligently." His gaze fell upon the two Heartslabyul first years, and with a clenched jaw he barked out at them "AS FOR YOU TWOâ REFRAIN FROM DISTRACTING THE PREFECT WITH YOUR USUAL FOOLISHNESS."
And with that, he made his exit. Leaving you to sink further in your chair as the entire class silently stared directly at you with wide eyes. Some of them were confused, others were entertained, and the rest had half a mind to ask you to "blink twice if you need help."
Ace was the first to break the silence.
"Huh! I didn't know you adopted a new dog, prefect! Have you tried teaching him to roll over yet?" You elbowed him in the side, making him flinch back. "Ouchâ! Hey, not my fault you managed to rizz up the weirdest guy in the whole school. You're probably stuck with his shadow looming over you for life now, bro."
"It is a little strange to see Sebek giving you royalty treatment. It's not as bad as he is with Malleus, but still." Deuce chimed in, looking at you with more sympathy than Ace had. Though, he couldn't help but admit he was also pretty amused by the entire situation. You let out a groan, dropping your face into your hands.
"I don't know what I did to get here. But can we just drop it for now? I need to focus on something else or my head might explode."
Deuce nodded, agreeing to your wishes immediately. Ace hesitantly dropped the subject, but he was going to make sure to mess with you about this for months to come.
You were so cooked.
The second observation was arguably stranger. And possibly borderline creepy, had it been coming from anyone but Sebek.
You began receiving letters. Handwritten letters that spoke of you as if you were an angel sent to Twisted Wonderland from the divine themselves. At first, you had your doubts that they were actually coming from Sebek, and you almost wondered if someone was pulling a prank on you.
That is, until one of the letters came with a picture. Of him...smiling?
Dear Prefect of Ramshakle Dorm,
Someone has brought it to my attention that you may not be used to recieveing a physical missive from the heart. However. Though I often speak my mind without second thought...for some reason, when I come face to face with your everlasting radiance, I almost find myself unable to express what I truly wish to say to you.
This is no excuse on my part. You are most deserving and worthy of high acclaim. I will do better from here on out to shower you with all the words you must hear about yourself on a daily basis. This includes topics on your emotional strength, your kindness and generosity, your breathtaking beauty. And... your courage. Which you often seem to doubt that you have.
You see, I always find it hard to believe that someone who demonstrates such remarkable courage would often diminish their own worth. Yet, you continue to surprise me. I have decided that I must take it upon myself to correct this at once.
Most mere humans cower away in fear when faced with the disasters that have begun taking place in this school as of late. However, In order to assist your peers, you have put yourself in the face of danger multiple times, despite your lack of magic at that! (Much to my immense worry for you.)
You have the commendable heart of a warrior. Not of a cowardly human. Please remember this when you are feeling less than what you truly are.
I shall begin to wrap this missive up. There is more I would like to say to you, but I know some of it should be said in person. Just know that I admire you, greatly. Far more than what may be considered appropriate.
Inside this envelope, I have attached a photo of my smiling visage for your viewing pleasure. Do with the photo what you will. And perhaps, if you wished to send a photo of yourself back...I would quite enjoy that.
From,
Sebek Zigvolt of Diasomnia Dorm.
Your jaw was practically to the floor as you read the letter to the end. You couldn't believe your eyes.
Sebek wrote all of this for you?! You didn't know he could be so...
Endearing?
You pulled the photo out of the envelope, unable to stop the snort that came out the moment you laid eyes on it. The photo was a tad bit stiff, but he held an honest smile in what looked to be a picture that someone else took for him. Did he have an entire photo shoot for this? The mental image had you wanting to double over in laughter, but you tried to compose yourself. He had pure intentions, after all.
You smiled fondly as you reread the letter, before grabbing your camera and stepping somewhere into the best lighting you could find in the dorm. You'd give him the photo he wanted next time you saw him.
The following day, you felt nervous as you walked side by side with Sebek to the cafeteria. Well... "walked" was putting it lightly. With the way Sebek stood with his back standing impossibly straight, and his eyes scanning his surroundings as if he was waiting for someone to jump out at the both of you with an axe... once again, you felt more like royalty being escorted by their trusty guard dog than a student walking around the school hallways with a friend.
You kept sneaking glances at him through the corner of your eye, hand fidgeting with the envelope you shoved in your pocket, that held the photo you took for him.
And much to your dismay, you heart had begun doing something very inconvenient ever since you read his letter to you the night before.
Because the thing about Sebek was that he never lied or played around. Sure, he may seem to exaggerate sometimes, but you knew him well enough to know by now that whatever he said was exactly how he felt.
"You appear distracted." Sebek brought you out of your thoughts with a voice that was oddly gentle coming from him. "If something troubles you, you need only to say the word."
"No, no. Nothing like that." You attempted to reassure him, but you could tell he wasnt buying it by the way his brows furrowed together. "Actually..."
You pulled out the envelope from your pocket, hand shaking slightly as you held it out to him. His eyes widened for a brief moment, looking at you with uncertainty.
"This is for you." He blinked, breath hitching in his throat as he slowly reached out to accept the envelope like it was a sacred offering from Malleus himself.
"For me?!" You quickly nodded, suddenly very interested in the patterns on the floor's tiles. He carefully began to open the envelope up, and you refused to look up at his reaction.
What if he thought it was strange? Or that you were mocking him? He was so sincere, what if youâ
"I SHALL RUN TO DIASOMNIA AT ONCE TO HANG THIS PHOTO UP!" You jumped at his sudden declaration, eyes snapping to look over at him. He held a wide smile on his face, holding the photo of you up like he was looking at a priceless artifact instead of you smiling inside of your dump of a dorm.
He turned the photo around, reading the words you scribbled on the back.
For your viewing pleasure.
"You uhâ you don't have to hang it up, it might cramp your gothic style and Malleus bedroom theme you have going on. It was just a silly photoâ"
"You and lord Malleus both hold great importance to me. I will treasure this photo until the day I cease my breath." He cast simple magic on the photo to keep it safe, before placing it in the pocket of his uniform. You let out a sigh, shaking your head fondly at his nonsense.
"If you say so. Can I come with you back to Diasomnia, then?" You felt him stiffen, before he took in a deep breath.
"Though I would be honored to take you, I instead have a request of you." He suddenly appeared bashful, and your head tilted in curiosity as the tips of his ears turned red. "I originally wanted to wait until I could take you back to Brair Valley for this, but Lilia told me that he had a change in his wisdom and that there was no time like the present to do this...so, prefect...if you would meet me on the courtyard's bench tonight when the clock strikes midnight...there is something I wish to tell you."
You felt your heart flutter nervously in your chest, stomach twisting as your mind raced with possibilities of what he may say.
Was he going to...
"With that, I will see you tonight if you accept!"
And before you could reply, he was gone. Taking the photo of you with him.
By the time night rolled around, you were a wreck.
"You've been pacing for twenty minutes!" Grim spoke between bites of the discount tuna you gave him, watching you with an unimpressed stare. "You're makin me dizzy over here."
"I can't help it, Grim! Sebek will be here in just a few minutes. What if he wants to tell me all of this is over? That his letters to me were a mistake and he never wants to carry a book or bag for me again ever in my feeble human existence?"
"Listen up, henchhuman! I'm only gonna say this once!" Grim suddenly declared, pointing a paw at you as he stood up like he was about to give you a grand speech for a pep talk. "Take it from me, the great love expert! You're way too good for that guy. There's no way he's just gonna up and leave you, unless he just wants to die alone. If anything, you should tell him to give you compensation for your time."
You looked at Grim through narrowed eyes. "Love expert my ass! I'm not asking him to pay me for going out with him."
Your gaze shifted to your watch, and with a heavy sigh, you flick your hand at Grim, shooing him off. "Alright. Time's up. Go hide behind a bush or something and DON'T say a word, or set anything on fire unless you want to be scrubbing the campus toilets for a month straight."
"You wouldn'tâ!"
"Crowley would love to put you on janitor duty again. Don't try me." Grim heeded your warning, for once.
You sat yourself down on the bench as midnight approached, your hands fidgeting with each other as you attempted to calm yourself down.
You knew you were overthinking.
Sebek may be considered rude to those who didn't know him well, but he wouldn't drag you all the way out here just to say something cruel and hurt your feelings. You knew he wouldn't.
So then why were you so...
"PREFECT!" You flinched, the man of the hour suddenly appearing before you. You couldn't help but notice how...polished he looked.
Did he style his hair more than usual? And his outfit...
You had to try and stop the amused smile from spreading on your face. He really went all out for this.
"Thank you for accepting my request to meet me here tonight." He cleared his throat, taking a seat on the bench beside you, with enough space in between you for a whole other person. You opened your mouth to comment on it, but he continued speaking.
"As of late, I've been thinking a great deal."
"Oh? How dangerous." You shot back to tease him, which he decided to ignore. But not before throwing you an unimpressed side eye.
"For many years, my life has had a singular purpose. To serve and protect Lord Malleus. To become a great knight, so that I could protect Briar Valley." That much you already knew. It wasn't like he didn't talk about that constantly. "My loyalty to him will never waver, for it is my greatest honor to stand at his side." You nodded, and then Sebek's voice softened.
"However, recently...my attention became divided. I found myself distracted with thoughts and feelings I had never experienced before. And at first I thought I must have grown ill."
Your heart stuttered, urging for him to continue. His gaze landed directly onto you, and very cautiously, he slid one of his hands into yours. They were rough and calloused...as well as a bit sweaty from what you assumed were nerves.
"But then Lilia informed me that the symptoms I was experiencing was...romantic affection. Towards you."
"Sebek, Iâ" you couldn't finish your thought. In all honesty, you were speechless. Of all people you could pull in Twisted Wonderland, you never would have guessed it would be him.
"I will admit, I did try to correct these feelings. But I failed. The situation only worsened, and soon I felt consumed by thoughts of you."
"Consumed, huh? Is that why you started stalking me everywhere?"
"Iâ STALKING?! I WAS ENSURING YOUR SAFETY, HUMAN!" You let out a laugh at how flustered he suddenly became, and Sebek sighed. You were impossible.
"If that's what you wanna call it."
Sebek may have looked annoyed at your teasing, but the way his thumb tenderly brushed the back of your hand was enough to tell you that he didn't mind. He adored you, hopelessly so.
"I admire you." He spoke out. "I often wondered to myself how someone with so little power in this world could possess the strength that you do. Every day I see you doing your best, even when everything seems against you."
"And...?" You were beginning to get impatient, waiting for the words you so desperately wanted to hearâ
"And. I love you, prefect." He finally ripped the bandaid off, and you swore you could almost cry. "There is no one else who could be worthy of my affections in the way that you are. I do not expect you to feel the saâ"
You grabbed onto the collar of his shirt, pulling him closer to you and pressing a soft kiss to his cheek. His eyes widened, and you swore he looked like he was going to explode.
"I love you too, Sebek. Very much so."
And in the background, a very unimpressed Grim watched the scene unfold, unsure if he was happy for you or disgusted by all the mush he was witnessing.
He certainly wasn't looking forward to Sebek being at Ramshackle more often.
Dividers by priestboy
Do not steal or use my work for ai purposes. I will eat you.
Pairing: royal au!retainer!sebek x princess!fem!yuu
Synopsis: The future princess of the kingdom, Yuu, is delightfully careless, endlessly curious, and absolutely terrible at staying out of trouble. Her ever-exasperated royal guard, Sebek, has spent three years learning that âkeeping an eye on herâ is basically a full-time disaster drillâbut nothing prepares him for the day she gets stuck upside-down in a tree, loses a shoe, and somehow brings a sentient, possibly magical painted rock to life.
As Sebek chases her through forests, palace halls, and council chambers, he must prevent princess-induced chaos, recover missing tiaras and shoes, andâsomehowâstop a tiny, living rock from destroying the kingdom. The only solution? A kiss between Sebek and Yuu, turning Sebekâs life of professional restraint into a chaotic, glitter-filled whirlwind of embarrassment, panic, and unexpected affection.
Author's Note: Rewritten and Extended Version!
Words: 5,077
Taglist: @oya-oya-okay @itstiredtime @lilstrawberryghost
âYOUR HIGHNESS!!â Sebek bellowed, panic bouncing off the trees as he spun in circles. Where had she gone this time? He had scolded her an hour ago for speaking to a random commonerâa random commonerâand now she was gone again. What if it had been an assassin, sneaking up on the crown? Or worse⊠a band of rogue squirrels? GAH! Maybe he shouldâve been gentler⊠No. No. That wouldâve been pointless. Sheâd have vanished anyway.
Half an hour of searching later, Sebekâs frustration reached critical mass. How could he call himself a royal guard if he couldnât even keep track of the princess? The future heir of the kingdom, and he was reduced to a frantic man yelling at trees.
âWhat if sheâs been kidnapped?!â he wailed, picturing every horrible scenario in rapid succession. Poisoned tea, traps, enchanted mirrors, sky piratesâhe could die of anxiety before she even got herself back safely. Sheâs supposed to be careful! SHE IS THE HEIR!
Somewhere above him, Yuuâs voice echoed faintly through the leaves. He didnât hear it at first, lost in his spiral. Thenâwhack!âa pinecone struck him square on the head.
âWHO GOES THERE?!â he shouted, hand on his sword, until he realized it was just a pinecone.
He looked up.
And shrieked.
Yuu was dangling upside down from a branch, one foot hopelessly wedged between two stubborn twigs. Her tiara had fallen, lying on the ground like it had given up on life.
âHOW DID YOU EVENâ?!â Sebekâs voice cracked.
âAre you going to help me down or what?â Yuu whined, her voice lightheaded. âBloodâs rushing to my head, and I think Iâm seeing stars.â She squinted at her tiara on the ground. Gravity was being very rude.
Sebek snatched up the tiara and strode to the base of the tree, crossing his arms and giving her a glare that could have cut steel.
âHow exactly did you manage thisâŠ?!â
Three years heâd been guarding her. Three years. And he still hadnât internalized the fact that anything could happen the moment she was left unattended. Stuck in a tree like thisâupside down, hair falling, zero self-preservationâhe should have known better. Shame on him.
âHelp me firstttttt,â Yuu whined again, face pink, dizziness setting in.
Sebek exhaled, long and heavy. He hated how childish she could be, but there was no time to bicker. He wasnât about to have her faint on him. Positioning himself under the branch, he reached up and grabbed her waist, carefully tugging her down.
Yuu yelped and flailedâSebek caught her without incident, holding her against his chest for a heartbeat before setting her safely on the ground. He let out a shaky sigh, offering her tiara with a pointed look.
âHow many times do I have to tell you? You cannot put yourself in these situations carelessly.â
Of course, Yuu wasnât listening. She was already staring at her shoe, still lodged in the tree.
Sebek followed her gaze and groaned. Sheâs seriously considering climbing back upâŠ
âNo.â He stepped in front of her, arm outstretched. âYou are not climbing that tree again.â
âButââ Yuu gave him the most pitiful puppy-dog eyes in the history of exasperated royal guards. âMother and Father will be upset if I go back to the palace with only one shoe.â
Sebekâs heart skipped. Of course she knows I canât resist those eyes. He grumbled, muttering under his breath, before finally huffing.
ââŠFine. Iâll get it. Myself. But you are not climbing.â
âMhm,â Yuu said, smiling innocently. Innocent? Ha. He knew better. That smile meant trouble.
He glanced at her one last time, searching for a hint of mischief. She was⊠far too calm. He sighed and started climbing toward the shoe.
By the time he returned, triumphant, Yuu was gone. Again.
Did she justâ
Damn it.
Sebekâs jaw clenched, grip tight on the retrieved shoe. How was this possible?! He had looked away for a single moment! And yet, she vanished again. Did she sprout wings? Teleport? Magic!
He groaned, fists tight, and stomped in a random direction, hopingâprayingâthat she went that way.
Sebek had dealt with many trials in his lifeâharsh training, sleepless nights, rigorous etiquette lessonsâbut nothing, nothing, compared to tracking down one (1) barefoot, tiara-less, chronically feral princess who could slip away faster than smoke through fingers. His jaw twitched as he stormed down the path, muttering every complaint he knew in alphabetical order.
âYour Highnessâno, Yuuâis going to be the end of me,â he growled through his teeth, clutching the shoe like it personally offended him. âRuns off, gets stuck in trees, loses footwear like some wandering forest spiritâunbelievable! Irresponsible! Infuriââ
THUD.
Something collided with his back.
Sebek spun around with the fury of a rattled guard dog. âWHO DARESâ?!â
âŠonly to find Yuu lying face-down in the grass, sprawled like a crushed frog.
He blinked. Once. Twice. Slowly.
ââŠWhy.â
Yuu spat out a mouthful of grass and rolled onto her back. âI tripped.â
âOn what?! The wind?!â
âNo, on you. Youâre built like a brick wall, Sebek, I didnât see you there.â
Sebekâs eye twitched so hard he saw stars. âThat is because you RAN into me!â
Yuu sat up, brushing dirt off her dress with the elegance of a toddler pulling weeds. âWell, yes. That part might be my fault. But also! I found something cool.â
Before Sebek could stop her, she proudly held upâ
âa squirrel.
A squirrel chewing acorns like it paid rent to do so.
Sebek froze in horror. âPUT THAT CREATURE DOWN.â
âBut look! He likes me!â Yuu chirped.
The squirrel immediately chomped her sleeve.
Sebek slapped a hand over his face. âOf course it doesâit thinks youâre part of the tree you got stuck in.â
Yuu pouted, prying her arm from the creatureâs tiny death grip. âYouâre being mean.â
âI am being reasonable,â Sebek corrected, taking her arm and inspecting the sleeve for bite marks. âYou nearly fainted from hanging upside down ten minutes agoâhow are you already sprinting through the forest kidnapping wildlife?! You should be resting!â
âAww, Sebek, are you worried about me?â she teased.
Sebek sputtered so violently his soul nearly left his body. âWâWHATâNOâIâTHATâSâNONSENSEâ!â
She giggled. âYouâre cute when you panic.â
He choked. Actually choked.
Before he could gather his dignity, Yuu swiped the shoe from his hand and popped onto her feet.
âLook! All fixed!â she said far too proudly, lifting her now-shoed foot like a gymnast.
Sebek stared blankly. âYou put a dirty forest shoe on your royal foot without checking if there were bugs inside?!â
Yuu froze.
Then very slowly, very silently, she slipped the shoe back off.
Sebek sighed so deeply he aged five years. âThis is precisely why you must LISTEN to me.â
âOkay. Iâm listening now,â she said.
âNo youâre not.â
âI am!â
âYouâre staring at another tree.â
ââŠNo Iâm not.â
âYou are literally leaning toward itâYour Highness do NOTââ
Too late.
Yuu began climbing the tree like a gremlin scaling a castle wall.
Sebek almost dropped dead on the spot. âWHYâAREâYOUâLIKEâTHIS?!â
âI swear I see something shiny up there!â she insisted, already halfway up.
âThat is a BIRD NEST,â he yelled. âIF YOU TOUCH IT THE MOTHER WILL ATTACK YOUââ
SQUAWK!!
A screech erupted from the branches.
Yuu screamed.
Sebek lunged.
In one motion that wouldâve impressed his instructors, he yanked her out of the tree just as a furious bird dive-bombed them. Yuu clung to him like a terrified koala, legs wrapped around his waist, arms around his shoulders.
He ran. She shrieked. The bird chased them like it had a vendetta.
By the time Sebek made it to safety, panting with Yuu still in his arms, he thought he might actually cry.
He set her down gently before collapsing onto the nearest bench.
Yuu blinked sheepishly. ââŠSo⊠maybe that wasnât treasure.â
Sebekâs head fell back. âI should request a raise. Or a second guard. Or several. Orâby the Sevenâtherapy.â
He stiffened, ears going red. âIâI am your guard. It is my duty. You need not thankââ
âBut I want to,â she said, leaning her shoulder against his arm. âYou always come for me.â
ââŠOf course I do,â he muttered. âEven when you run off. Even when you cause chaos. Even when you⊠pick up squirrels.â
Yuu beamed. âSo you do care.â
Sebek nearly combusted. âSTOP PUTTING WORDS IN MY MOUTH.â
She laughedâthe bright, delighted kind that made the corners of his mouth twitch despite himself.
And for a brief, precious moment...
The forest was quiet.
âŠUntil Yuu pointed at something behind them.
âOoh! Sebek, look! A shiny mushroom!â
He slammed a hand over her mouth. âNO.â
She nodded.
He removed his hand.
Yuu: sprints off
Sebek: âYUUUUU!!!â
And the chase began again.
âYOUR HIGHNESS, GET BACK HERE THIS INSTANTâ!!â Sebek roared, tearing after the princess who was now making alarming speed for someone who had almost fallen out of a tree and been assaulted by a bird fifteen minutes ago.
Yuu didnât even look back. âBut Sebek!!! What if itâs a magical mushroom?! What if it grants wishes?? What if it cures baldness?!â
ââŠBALDNESS?!â Sebek spluttered. âWHATâWHY WOULDâYOU ARE NOT EVEN BALDââ
âIt could be useful someday!â she shouted over her shoulder, dodging a bush like sheâd trained for this her whole life.
Sebek was going to have an aneurysm.
He sprinted after her, armor clanking, shouting every lecture heâd memorized since his first day of training. âYOU ARE THE FUTURE RULER OF THIS KINGDOM! YOU CANNOTâYOU MUST NOTâCHASE SUSPICIOUS FOREST FUNGIââ
He didnât get to finish.
Yuu tripped on a root.
Sebek yelped and lunged on pure instinct, catching her around the waist before she ate dirt again. They spunâSebek twisting his body to shield herâand crashed into a pile of leaves, Yuu sprawled on top of him.
She blinked. âOh. Hi.â
Sebek stared up at the sky as if praying for strength. âYou⊠are going to kill me one day.â
âI donât mean to.â
âThat is the worst part.â
Yuu giggled and rolled off of him. Sebek sat up, brushing leaves out of his hair, sighing like a man thrice his age. âWHERE is this supposedly magical mushroom, anyway?â
Yuu pointed proudly.
Sebek followed her gazeâŠ
âŠand stared.
âThat⊠is a rock painted red.â
âWith white dots!â Yuu added cheerfully. âLook how cute it is!â
He turned to her slowly. Very slowly. âYou⊠you chased a CHILDâS ART PROJECT.â
Yuu gasped. âItâs art?! Iâm keeping it.â
âNo, you are NOTââ
But she had already scooped it up, cradling it like a newborn.
Sebek pinched the bridge of his nose. âYour Highnessâpleaseâplease return the rock.â
âI canât abandon it now, itâs attached.â
âYou are attached.â
âExactly.â
âMy sanity is unraveling.â
Before Sebek could pry the rock from her hands, footsteps approached from the direction of the palace path.
A young palace maid emerged from the trees, panting. âYour Highness! Sir Sebek! There you areâeveryoneâs been looking all over! The king and queen areââ
Her eyes fell to Yuu, disheveled, grass-stained, holding a painted rock, wearing one slightly dirty shoe, leaves in her hair.
Then her gaze shifted to Sebek, equally disheveled, hair sticking up like heâd been electrocuted, wild-eyed with defeat.
The maid blinked. Twice.
ââŠShould I⊠pretend I didnât see any of this?â
âYes,â Sebek said instantly.
âNo,â Yuu countered. âTell them I rescued a rock baby.â
The maid stared, horrified.
Sebek rubbed his temples. âIgnore her. She is delusional from⊠from running. And trees. And lack of caution. Andâeverything.â
The maid nodded very slowly, then whispered, âThe royal council is arriving early, and the king and queen need the princess presentable immediately. They are⊠expecting the both of you.â
Sebekâs soul left his body.
Yuu perked up. âOoh! Council meeting! I love thoseâthereâs always tea and snacks!â
âYou love them because you eat ALL the snacks,â Sebek snapped. âYou are forbidden from touching ANYTHING until you wash, change, and stop carrying that rock.â
âIt has feelings.â
âIt has PAINT.â
Sebek grabbed her wrist before she could dart off again. âWe are going to the palaceâwithout detoursâwithout climbing anythingâwithout wildlife encountersâand WITHOUTââ
Yuu: âRocky.â
Sebek: âDO NOT NAME IT.â
Yuu hugged the rock. âRocky.â
Sebek let out a strangled noise.
But he marched her forward, one hand firm on her shoulder like she might evaporate if he blinked.
They reached the main palace gates, guards bowing as they approached. Or, more accurately, bowing while staring in utter confusion.
Yuu waved at them like nothing was wrong.
Sebek muttered, âI swear on my honorâif the council sees you like thisââ
âTheyâll think I had an adventure!â Yuu chirped.
âTheyâll think Iâm incompetent!â
âThey already think that,â she pointed out.
Sebek nearly dropped dead for the second time today.
When they finally reached the palace doors, Sebek grabbed Yuu by the shoulders and bent down to eye level. âListen to me, Your Highness. You will walk inside. You will go straight to your chambers. You will hand that rock to a servant. You will bathe. You will dress appropriately. And you will NOTââ
Yuuâs eyes sparkled mischievously.
âârun,â Sebek finished, narrowing his eyes.
She smiled sweetly. âOkay.â
She was absolutely lying.
âYuu,â he warned.
âSebek,â she echoed.
He pressed a hand to his heart, looking up at the heavens in plea. âWhy do you test me like this?â
She shrugged. âBecause itâs fun?â
Sebek inhaled sharplyâ
âjust as she darted past him, sprinting into the palace with Rocky tucked under her arm like a rugby ball.
âNOOOOOOOâ!! YOUR HIGHNESS, STOPâSTOP RIGHT NOWâ!!!â
Sebek barrelled after her, the palace echoing with the familiar sound of one exasperated guard chasing one overly energetic, mildly unhinged princess through the hallways.
âRETURN THIS INSTANT, YOUR HIGHNESSâ!!â Sebekâs voice thundered, bouncing off marble columns and polished floors.
Yuu didnât slow even a little. âBUT THE COUNCIL WANTS ME, RIGHT? IâM GOING TO THEM!â
âNOT LIKE THISâ!!â
She skidded around a corner, nearly colliding with a bewildered butler holding a tray of crystal glasses. Sebek swooped in at the last second, grabbing both Yuuâs collar and the tray with inhuman reflexes.
The butler nodded in grateful terror.
Sebek shoved the tray back into his hands. âRUN. YOU ARE IN THE DANGER ZONE.â
The butler obeyed immediately.
Yuu wriggled out of Sebekâs grip like a greased ferret, dropped to the floor, somersaulted, and dashed againâstill clutching Rocky under her arm. The sheer determination was horrifying.
âYUUâ!!â Sebek practically shrieked, sprinting after her. âYOU ARE NOT MEETING THE COUNCIL LOOKING LIKE A FOREST CRYPTID!!â
âNo promises!!â she called back joyfully.
She bolted past two maids, who screamed and flattened themselves against the wall like pedestrians dodging a runaway cart. One whispered, âIs she feral? Like actually feral?â
Sebek shot back, âSHE IS NOT FERALâSHE IS JUSTâSHE ISâSHE ISââ
He couldnât finish the sentence. There didnât exist a word strong enough.
Yuu reached the grand staircase leading to the council chambers. And she made a fatal mistake.
She paused.
To wave at the portrait of her grandmother.
Sebek seized his chance.
He lungedâarms outstretchedâ
âand grabbed her around the waist, hoisting her clean off the ground like a misbehaving cat.
âNOOOâSEBEKâPUT ME DOWNâTHE COUNCILâTHE SNACKSâTHE TEAâ!!â
âYOU ARE FILTHY, DISHEVELED, BLEEDING A LITTLE, MISSING HALF YOUR HAIR ORNAMENTS, AND HOLDING A ROCK NAMED ROCKYâYOU ARE NOT MEETING FOREIGN DIGNITARIES LIKE THIS!!â
She kicked her feet in the air, bafflingly offended. âRocky is a treasured companion.â
âIt is a ROCK.â
âIt has personality!â
âIt has PAINT!â
She gasped. âSo do you.â
âThat does not make me a collectible object!!â
He held her tighter, determined not to drop her no matter how much she squirmed. She was surprisingly strong when motivated (usually by shiny things or snacks).
Yuu twisted around in his arms. âSebek⊠youâre being dramatic.â
âI AM BEING REALISTIC,â he corrected, marching her bodily away from the staircase. âIf the council sees you like this, they will revoke my title, my position, AND my dignity.â
âThey wouldnât do that.â
âThey absolutely would.â
âThey like you.â
âI DO NOT CARE IF THEY LIKE MEâI CARE ABOUT NOT LOSING MY JOB BECAUSE YOU BEFRIENDED A ROCK AND GOT CHASED BY A MATERNAL BIRDââ
Yuu wiggled again. âYouâre holding me like a sack of potatoes.â
âThat is because you behave like one when unattended.â
ââŠPotatoes canât climb trees.â
âEXACTLY. LEARN FROM THEM.â
He turned a corner too sharply, and Yuuâs hand smacked against a passing suit of armor.
Clank.
Rocky fell out of her grasp.
Both of them froze.
The rock bounced.
Once.
Twice.
Then rolledâ
âŠand disappeared through a floor vent.
Yuu inhaled.
Sebek felt the incoming meltdown and braced.
âMy babyâ!!! ROCKYYYYYYY!!!â
Sebek nearly dislocated a shoulder trying to keep her from leaping out of his arms. âNOâNOâNOâDO NOTâYOU ARE NOTâYOU ARE NOT GOING INTO THE AIR VENTS!!â
Tears welled in Yuuâs eyes.
Sebek panicked instantly. âW-WAITâNOâD-DONâT DO THATâDONâT CRYâSTOPâIâWEâWE WILL RETRIEVE THE ROCKâJUST PLEASEâSTOPââ
âI MISS HIMâ!!â she wailed dramatically.
âHe fell three seconds ago.â
âI already miss him.â
Sebek was visibly aging. âYour Highness⊠the council is waitingâŠâ
Yuu sniffled. ââŠRocky is waiting tooâŠâ
Sebekâs brain short-circuited.
And thenâ
A throat cleared behind them.
They both froze.
Slowly⊠very slowly⊠Sebek turned his head.
There stood the king and queen.
The queen blinked. The king blinked twice. Both stared at the scene:
âSebek sweaty, frazzled, holding the princess like a flailing sack,
âYuu with stick-filled hair, smudges on her cheeks, dress wrinkled,
âcrying over a fallen painted rock.
Silence.
Finally, the king said, ââŠDo we want to know?â
Sebek opened his mouth.
No sound came out.
Yuu raised a hand from the position she was being carried. âI lost Rocky.â
The queen whispered, ââŠShould I be concerned about what that means?â
Sebek finally found his voice. âYOUR MAJESTIESâPLEASEâALLOW ME FIVE MINUTESâJUST FIVEâTO MAKE HER PRESENTABLEâAND THENâAND ONLY THENâSHE WILL BE READY FOR THE COUNCILââ
The king sighed. âFine.â
Yuu grinned. âSebek, I want braids in my hair.â
âI AM NOT A LADY-IN-WAITING.â
The queen added gently, âSebek dear, perhaps⊠a ribbon as well.â
Sebek choked on pure despair. âY-Your Majestyââ
âPink,â the queen clarified.
Yuu brightened. âOoh, yes. Pink!â
Sebek shut his eyes, face falling into the expression of a man who had accepted his fate. ââŠAs you command.â
And with Yuu still tucked under his arm like a princess-shaped grocery bag, he marched toward the royal chambers with the posture of a doomed soldier headed to war.
This was his life.
He still wasnât sure how it happened.
By the time Sebek reached the princessâs chambers, he was sweating like heâd run a marathon uphill, carrying a boulder, while being chased by wolves.
Which, honestly, was not far off from reality.
He kicked the chamber doors open with the desperation of a man on the brink. âWE HAVE FIVE MINUTESâFIVEâBEFORE THE COUNCIL EXPECTS HER HIGHNESSâPREPARE EVERYTHING!â
The maids inside shrieked like flying birds startled from trees.
One maid dropped a comb. Another dropped a bucket. A third dropped consciousness entirely and fainted.
Meanwhile, Yuu lifted her hand weakly from under Sebekâs arm.
âThereâs been a tragedy,â she whispered.
Sebek groaned. âDO NOTââ
âRocky has passed on.â
The maids gasped.
Sebek stared at them, betrayed. âDO NOT ENCOURAGE THISââ
âWe should hold a funeral,â Yuu continued solemnly.
Another maid sniffled sympathetically. âPrincess⊠you were so brave.â
âSTOP IT,â Sebek barked.
He set Yuu downâgently, despite all his blusteringâand pointed sharply. âYou. Bath. Now.â
Yuu blinked up at him. ââŠWill Rocky want me to be clean for his funeral?â
Sebek inhaled, eyes closing. âYes.â
âThen I will do it for him,â she declared, fist clenched in melodramatic resolve.
The maids swooned at her sincerity.
Sebek grabbed a towel and shoved it into her hands. âGO.â
She shuffled toward the bath like a mourning widow, leaving a dramatic trail of sorrow behind her.
Sebek slumped into a chair. âThis girl will be the end of meâŠâ
Ten Minutes Later (which was, of course, five minutes longer than they had):
âOWâSebekâstop pulling my hairâOWââ
âI barely touched it!â
âThen my hair is sensitive because itâs grieving!!â
Sebek froze mid-braid. âHair does not grieve.â
âMy soul grieves, Sebek. And my hair is connected to my soul.â
Sebekâs eyebrow twitched. âI am not paid enough for this.â
He attempted againâgently, carefully, with the patience of a man defusing a bomb.
Yuu kicked her legs over the stool. âMake it looserâno, tighterâno, not that tightâow! But also it looks goodâwait, no it doesnâtâSebek re-do it.â
âYUUâPLEASEââ
âYouâre being dramatic.â
âI AM BEING TORTURED.â
Finallyâfinallyâhe finished a neat braid. He stepped back, chest rising with the pride of a warrior completing a sacred ritual.
âThere. Done.â
Yuu stared at her reflection.
ââŠI want two braids.â
Sebekâs soul left his body again.
Five More Minutes Later (he was going to die here):
Yuu sat with twin braids so perfect they belonged in a portrait. She looked adorable, elegant, royal.
Sebek felt a flicker of exhausted triumph.
âNow,â he said stiffly, âthe ribbon.â
Yuu spun in her chair, grinning. âPink?â
âMy orders,â Sebek muttered darkly.
One of the maids brought the long satin ribbon as if presenting a sacred relic. Sebek took it with trembling reluctance.
He tied it around her head. Neatly. Precisely. Perfectly.
Yuu sparkled. âSebekâŠâ
He froze. ââŠYes?â
âItâs so cute I could cry.â
âPLEASE DONâT.â
She giggled. âI love it.â
His face went red. âIt is not for your amusement. It is royal protocol.â
âItâs cute though.â
ââŠIT IS PRACTICAL.â
âItâs adorable.â
He growled.
She poked his cheek. âSebek~â
âSTOP THAT.â
She giggled again, spinning once in her seat. âDo you think the council will like it?â
Sebek straightened up, shoulders stiffening, professionalism returning like a cloak. âThe council,â he announced, âwill be astonished that you appearâat lastâclean, well-groomed, and not holding a piece of rock.â
For once.
Yuu sniffled again.
He stiffened. âWHATâWHAT NOW?!â
âRocky wouldâve loved to see the ribbonâŠâ
She looked like she might cry again.
Sebek panicked like he was under battle fire. âWEâWE WILL HOLD A CEREMONY AFTER THE COUNCIL MEETINGâA SMALL ONEâJUST USâWE WILL RETRIEVE HIM FROM THE VENT ANDâAND GIVE HIM AN HONORABLE⊠ROCK⊠RITE.â
Yuuâs eyes widened in awe. âReally?â
Sebek nodded solemnly. âYes.â
ââŠWith flowers?â
âIf you want.â
âAnd a eulogy?â
Sebek swallowed. ââŠI will⊠attempt one.â
Yuu beamed and threw her arms around him.
Sebek frozeârigid, blushing, overloaded. âY-YOUR HIGHNESSâYOUâYOU SHOULD NOTâWEâTHIS ISâIMPROPERââ
âYouâre the best,â she mumbled into his chest.
Sebekâs heart combusted like a struck match.
He swallowed, voice quiet for once. ââŠLet us go. The council awaits.â
She took his hand.
He did not let go.
n fact, his hand tightened around hers as they walked toward the council chamberâhis steps precise, composed, but his ears pink at the tips. Yuu practically bounced beside him, braids swinging, the ribbon fluttering with each hop.
They arrived at the tall double doors. Two guards bowed and opened them.
The council chamber was silent.
Every advisor turned to look at the princessâclean, braided, ribboned, polite for onceâand then at the guard at her side, who looked⊠tense. Very, very tense.
Yuu waved with one hand, the other still clasped firmly in Sebekâs.
âHello! Sorry Iâm late. I fell in a tree.â
Sebek nearly choked.
The council members exchanged looks of exhausted acceptanceâthis was, after all, not even the top ten weirdest things she had said this month.
Yuu and Sebek took their seatsâshe plopped elegantly on her cushion, he remained standing behind her like a massive, overprotective statue.
The council meeting began.
It lasted approximately thirty seconds before something terrible happened.
The vent rattled.
Sebek froze.
Yuu gasped dramatically. âROCKY!â
The nearest advisor blinked. ââŠPardon?â
Before anyone could clarify, the vent cover burst off the wall with the force of a miniature explosion.
A small, painted, red-with-white-dots rock shot out.
Except it wasnât a rock anymore.
It had LEGS.
Spindly little stone legs, skittering across the floor like a deranged beetle.
And it was giggling.
Not in a cute way.
In a deep, echoing, nightmare-woodland-creature kind of way.
Sebek took three steps back so fast he left a dust trail.
âWHATâWHAT IS THATâWHAT DID YOU BRING INTO THIS PALACEâ?!â
The stone creature hopped onto a council table.
The advisors screamed.
One fainted.
Another started praying.
A third threw a scroll at it.
The creature OPENED A MOUTH.
A mouth that should not exist on something that had been, merely an hour ago, a childrenâs art project.
It hissedâdeep, rumbling, ancientâand the temperature dropped ten degrees.
Sebek brandished his sword. âSTEP BACK, YOUR HIGHNESSâTHIS IS A DEMONâA CREATURE OF THE ABYSSâAâAâA VERY SMALL BUT VERY HOSTILE MONSTROSITYââ
Yuu rushed forward. âNOâDONâT HURT HIMâHEâS JUST CONFUSEDâHE JUST WOKE UPââ
The creature skittered toward her.
Sebek nearly had heart failure. âDONâT YOU DARE GO NEAR ITâ!!â
But it stopped.
Looked at Yuu.
Tilted its little stony head.
Then its mouth cracked open andâ
It started GLOWING.
A horrible, eldritch red.
Energy surged around it, wind whipping through the council room. Papers flew. Advisors screamed. Curtains flapped. Sebek shielded Yuu with his entire body.
âITâS CHARGING UP A SPELLâSTAND BACKâTHIS IS NOT A ROCK, THIS IS A THREAT TO THE NATIONââ
A terrified advisor shouted, âTHE LEGENDSâTHE FOREST CREATURESâTHE CURSED ARTIFACTâTHE ONLY WAY TO STOP IT ISââ
Everyone leaned in, desperate.
ââTO KISS SOMEONE WHO CARES FOR YOU DEEPLY SO THE CREATURE LOSES POWER FROM PURE EMOTIONAL DISGUST!!â
Sebek and Yuu froze.
ââŠWhat?â Yuu whispered.
Sebekâs face went crimson instantly. âTH-THATâTHAT IS RIDICULOUSâUNFOUNDEDâILLOGICALâSCANDALOUSââ
âThatâs what the myths say!!â the advisor cried. âItâs powered by chaotic affection! The only counter is genuine affection! It cancels out!â
âSo what do we DO?!â Yuu asked, shaking Sebekâs arm.
Everyoneâs eyes turned to them.
Sebekâs entire body locked up.
Yuu blinked up at him, cheeks pink. ââŠYouâre the person who cares about me the most.â
Sebekâs soul combusted.
âY-youâyour highnessâth-that isâw-we cannotâthere is protocolâdignityâdecorumââ
The rock-creature screeched, glowing brighter and brighter.
Energy crackled.
The floor trembled.
Sebek inhaled sharply.
Thenâ
He grabbed her face.
Pulled her close.
And kissed her.
It wasnât messy or clumsy or rushed.
It was warm.
Firm.
Certain.
Like everything heâd been holding back, everything heâd denied himself, everything he refused to acknowledgeâfinally slipped out in one single moment.
Yuu froze in surpriseâ
Then melted into it.
The creature screamed one last timeâ
And exploded into a harmless pile of glitter.
The wind stopped.
The rumbling ceased.
Silence fell over the room.
Sebek slowly pulled back, face red enough to explode.
Yuu stared at him.
The council stared at both of them.
No one breathed.
Finally, Yuu whispered:
ââŠdo we tell people he died a hero?â
Sebek covered his face with his hand and groaned like a dying man.
Yuu, on the other hand, was bouncing on her toes, completely unfazed. âSee, Sebek? Rockyâs fine now! Isnât this amazing?!â
He peeked through his fingers. âAMAZING? THE ENTIRE COUNCIL WITNESSED YOUâAND MEâDEFEATING A SENTIENT ROCK WITH A KISS. DO YOU REALIZE HOWâŠHOWââ
âRomantic?â Yuu suggested innocently, tilting her head.
Sebekâs entire body seized. âI⊠IâIT IS NOT ROMANTIC. IT IS A STRATEGIC NECESSITY. A MILITARYâMAGICALâPROTECTIVEâPROCEDURAL MEASURE!â
Yuu giggled. âRight, right. Strategic⊠sure.â She leaned against him, still brushing glitter off her sleeves. âBut, Sebek⊠that was kind of fun.â
Sebek clenched his fists so tightly his knuckles popped. âFUN. IS. NOT. PART. OF. MY. JOB. DESCRIPTION.â
One of the council members cleared their throat, trembling. âUm⊠Princess⊠Sebek⊠that was⊠very impressive?â
âIMPRESSIVE?â Sebek nearly shouted, spinning to face them. âI WAS FORCED INTO THIS! AGAINST MY WILL! IT IS NOT A RECOMMENDED TACTIC! AND NOWââ
âSebek.â Yuuâs voice cut through his tirade like a sword. He froze. âYou were amazing. Really. Rockyâs gone, the palace is safe, and no one else got hurt.â
Sebekâs ears went pink. ââŠIâyes. Well⊠naturally.â
Yuu grinned and poked his cheek. âSo⊠maybe a little romantic?â
He stiffened. âNO. Absolutely not. Do not. Stop. Now. This isâdecorumâprotocolâhistoryâdo you want me to faint?â
Yuu laughed. âMaybe just a little.â
Sebek groaned again, collapsing into a chair like a man who had lost every battle heâd ever fought, and perhaps his dignity along with it. âIâI cannot. IâThe legends⊠myths⊠ridiculous magical rocksâTHIS IS WHY I STAYED SINGLE.â
Yuu plopped down beside him, resting her head on his shoulder. âYouâre cute when you panic.â
Sebek stiffened so hard he almost became a statue. âIâAM NOTâCUTE. I AMâTHE ROYAL GUARD. THIS ISâTHIS IS SERIOUS BUSINESS.â
âMm-hmm.â Yuu hummed, clearly ignoring him, brushing her fingers through the glittery remnants of Rockyâs magic still stuck in her hair. âI think youâre cute anyway.â
Sebekâs face turned so red he could have been mistaken for a warning beacon. He stared at the floor, muttering incoherently. âIâamâNOTâSPEAKINGâANYMOREâTHIS ISâOFFICIALâSILENCEâREQUIREDââ
Yuu snickered. âYouâre adorable when youâre flustered.â
Sebek groaned so loudly that the council members jumped. One of them whispered, âIs this⊠always like this?â
Yuu nodded solemnly. âEvery day.â
Sebek buried his face in his hands, wishing for the sweet release of faintingâor possibly teleportation. âIâTHIS IS MY LIFEâTRULYâIâYUU, DO YOU REALIZEââ
ââŠI do,â she said, patting his shoulder affectionately. âBut donât worry. I love you anyway.â
Sebekâs jaw dropped. His entire body froze. ââŠWHAT DID YOUâDID YOU JUSTââ
Yuu grinned, totally unapologetic. âI did.â
The council slowly backed away, muttering things about âroyal eccentricities,â âpossible enchanted progeny,â and âhiring more guards.â
Sebek peeked out from his hands, glaring at her, but the faintest twitch of a smile betrayed him. âYou⊠are impossible.â
âAnd you⊠are impossible too,â Yuu said softly, leaning closer, glitter still in her braids, ribbon perfectly in place, the princess she always was⊠and somehow, completely hers.
Sebek exhaledâdefeated, exhausted, utterly captivatedâand allowed the tiniest, tiniest smile to break through.
ââŠLetâs get through the council meeting,â he muttered, voice low. âThen we can⊠discussâthis.â
Yuu giggled. âAfterward, Sebek?â
âAfterward,â he agreed, though he was already calculating the safest way to keep her from climbing anything alive ever again.
And for once, as the council tentatively resumed their meeting, Sebek didnât mind the glitter in his hair.
Because despite everythingâŠ
Heâd survived the princess, the living rock, and a kiss that could have destroyed his professional reputation.
à§Ś Ś synopsis âź you broke up with Tim a year ago. Too bad he still thinks of you as his. Too bad everything he does reminds you that you are.
word cnt. 16.2k
includes âșâșâșâș sexual language, dairy queen, car make out, denial, you match his freak and that's why you dumped him
Tim has been living inside the fraction of a second you hesitated before sitting beside him â that infinitesimal pause where your body seemed to remember him before your mind could intervene. Heâs worried it like a loose thread, convinced it means something, that it proves there is still warmth there, buried but intact.
âI donât think youâre good for me,â youâd murmured, voice dulled by exhaustion rather than certainty, even as your hands betrayed youâtugging your scarf tighter around his neck, fingers lingering just long enough to make the words feel like a lie you were both pretending to believe. Youâd said it gently, like a confession instead of a sentence. Your eyes were watering, your hands shaking against the scarf. That was a year ago.
He remembers the cold that night more vividly than your words, the way you tried to protect him from it even as you stepped away, leaving him standing there with a warmth he didnât know what to do withâexcept keep it.
Tims kept it alright.
Itâs almost grotesque, how fiercely.
Heâs preserved that pause of yours the way people preserve saintsâ bonesâwrapped in memory, reverent to the point of ruin. The fraction of a second where you hovered before sitting beside him, knees angled toward him before you caught yourself. That hesitation lives under his skin. Proof, he tells himself. Evidence that your body remembered him even when you tried not to.
And God, the things heâs kept.
The ribbon, slid carefully from your hair when you slept over, breath held like a thief afraid of waking something holy. The broken bracelet beads, every last one collected from the floor on hands and knees, replaced weeks later with diamonds he pretended meant nothing â an upgrade, he said lightly, as if he hadnât memorized the exact way the original had looked against your wrist. The origami robins and flowers you folded when boredom softened you, creased wings and petals tucked into books, pinned above his desk, carried with him through every move like talismans.
Youâd said it so quietly, then.
âI donât think youâre good for me.â
Murmured, not declared. Your mouth said no while your hands betrayed you â tugging his scarf tighter around his neck, fingers brushing his jaw, thumbs warm against his throat as if instinct refused to let him freeze. The words felt practiced. The touch didnât. He remembers the smell of your shampoo, the faint press of your knuckles, the way you exhaled like you were bracing for something sharp.
That was a year ago.
A year of being careful. A year of agreeing, without ever speaking it aloud, to be friends.
Friends.
After heâs been inside you, after he knows the exact sound you make when youâre trying not to beg, after heâs memorized the curve of your spine like scripture.Â
Sure. Friends.
School makes it easier to lie. Same friend group, same bleachers at lunch, same unspoken rule: donât touch, donât linger, donât look like you remember.
Your new boyfriend is a theater geek.
Volleyball team captain, too, and somehow managing to keep a perfect tan even in the dead stretch of Gothamâs winter, when the sun feels more like a rumor than a fact and everyone else looks faintly gray around the edges.Â
Lloyd.Â
Same height as Tim, just a little bulkierâcloser to Dickâs build than Jasonâsâbut he doesnât carry it the way Dick does, doesnât wear his body with confidence. He's a blonde, freckles scattered across his face like someone forgot to finish the job.
Gemini.
Six hundred fifty-two followers on Instagram. Bio reads âi love my gfâ.
Yeah.Â
Tim loves his girlfriend too.
âStop glaring,â Stephanie hisses, elbowing him sharply in the side beneath the library table, her shoe nudging his ankle a second later just to make the point stick.
âIâm not glaring,â Tim mutters back, not looking away.
âYouâre still watching,â she says, exasperated, âand itâs creepy.â
Youâre a few tables over, earbuds in, head bent forward just enough that Timâs almost certain youâre blasting white noiseâsomething steady, something meant to drown out the world. The library hums around all of you: pages turning, keyboards clicking, the low murmur of whispered conversations bouncing gently off tall shelves and stained-glass windows that filter Gothamâs weak afternoon light into dusty gold.
You were seated with Steph and a few other friends at one of the long tables, five chairs pulled in close, bodies overlapping in that casual, communal way people slip into without thinking. But now your back is to Tim, the familiar line of your shoulders framed by your coat draped over the chair, the curve of your neck half-hidden by your hair.
And there he is.
Lloyd sits next to you, angled just enough that his face is fully visible to Tim, a script spread open on the table between you, pages already dog-eared and marked up with pencil notes. He mouths lines under his breath, brows furrowed in concentration, tapping the edge of the paper with his pen like it might jog something loose.
Every so often, his green eyes flick up.
They land on Tim.
And every single time, the idiot smiles at himâawkward, polite, uncertainâbefore ducking his head back down and returning to memorizing lines for whatever stupid play heâs involved in this week.
Tim exhales slowly through his nose.
âHeâs not even the main lead,â he mutters, barely above a whisper. âWhy the fuck is it taking him so long to memorize so few lines?â
âOh, I donât know,â Lucas says from beside him, tone flat and edged with sarcasm, âmaybe he wants to spend time with his girlfriend. Just a thought.â
Tim doesnât bother looking at him. Lucas isnât exactly closeânot reallyâbut Stephanie and you had introduced him to Tim after spending time together in art class, and he lets Tim rant without interruption, which counts for something.
âMy girlfriend,â Tim corrects automatically.
Dina, Lucasâs girlfriend, groans outright from where sheâs leaning back in her chair. âThis is why she isnât sitting with us,â she mutters.
âShe isnât sitting with us because the idiot needed help,â Tim snaps back, keeping his voice carefully light, carefully neutral, even though the words come out sharper than intended.
And heâs not wrong. You had been sitting at the head of the table, comfortably centered, until Lloyd showed upânervous, bashful, clutching his script like it might biteâand asked if you could help him run lines for an audition. Youâd hesitated for exactly half a second before changing seats, scooting closer, tilting the pages toward yourself with practiced ease.
Tim had wanted to shove the script straight into Lloydâs mouth.
Instead, he watches.
Watches the way you lean in when Lloyd gets stuck, the way you tap the page lightly and murmur corrections, the way Lloyd listens with an intensity that borders on reverence. The library settles around them, quiet and warm and heavy with books that smell like dust and ink and old promises, Gotham pressing its gray, unlovely afternoon up against the windows while, inside, you sit close enough to someone else that your shoulders almost touch.
Tim keeps his gaze fixed there, steady and unblinking, like if he looks away for even a second something permanent might shift without his permission, like the world might quietly rearrange itself while he isnât watching.
âI hope they start making out,â Dina murmurs into her tea, voice low and wicked, steam curling up around her face, âjust so I can watch Tim strangle himself with his computer cord.â
Lucas snickers beside her, shoulders shaking.
Tim finally drags his eyes away from you and turns to Dina, incredulous. âCome on,â he says, voice clipped, restrained by effort alone. âYou canât seriously think heâs actually good for her. Heâs a fucking idiot.â
That makes Dina pause. She cups her mug in both hands, fingers warming against the ceramic, gaze drifting back toward your table as if sheâs trying to see something she missed. âIâm not saying that, Tim,â she says, slower now. âIâm just⊠she seems happy. I guess.â
âYou guess?â Tim echoes, one brow lifting as he flips his notebook open and starts scribbling absently, blue ballpoint pen gliding across the page. A stick-figure Scarecrow takes shape under his handâcrooked hat, lopsided grinâthe ink dark and precise. One of the fancy pens you bought him for his birthday a few months ago. He presses a little harder than necessary.
Stephanie shrugs, spinning her pencil between her fingers. âIt could be worse,â she says. âHeâs just⊠awkward.â
Lucas snickers again when he catches the expression that crosses Timâs face, all tight disbelief and quiet offense.
Tim turns on him immediately. âFuck you, man,â he mutters, rubbing a hand down his face.
âI mean,â Lucas adds, holding up his hands, âIâm actually with Tim on this one. I donât like him that much either.â
Oh.
Oh okay.
So Lucas is Timâs best friend now, apparently, and they are the closest people in the fucking universe.
Tim straightens instantly, pointing at Lucas like heâs just been handed a winning card and swiveling back toward Dina and Stephanie. âYou hear that?â he says, vindicated. âHe agrees!â
Stephanie shoots Lucas a look and tilts her head. âDude, come onââ
âShe had to ask him out,â Lucas says, shrugging like this is obvious. âOnce or twice, whatever, but itâs likeâevery time. Even for the winter dance. She had to ask him.â
âWhat happened to feminism?â Dina tries weakly, staring into her cup.
âThatâs not what I mean,â Lucas replies, turning toward her. âCome on, youâve seen how much she overthinks it every time. When have I ever made you feel like you needed to ask me just to see me?â
âThen why does he look like you just proposed?â Stephanie asks, exasperated and amused in equal measure.
Lucas furrows his brow, confused for half a second before following her gaze.
Locking eyes with Tim.
âDudeâŠ?â
Tim leans in immediately, grin sharp and hopeful, lowering his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. âSo youâll help me?â
âFuck no.â
Oh.
Okay.
Tim Drake fucking hates Lucas, actually, and he can go die.
Tim groans, letting his forehead drop forward onto his notebook with a soft thunk, pen rolling slightly under his hand. âYou all want me dead,â he mutters, voice muffled by paper. âWhat if I killed myself, huh? What ifââ
âSheâd probably save you a seat at her wedding with Lloyd,â Stephanie cuts in cheerfully, chin propped in her palm, freckles creasing as she smiles, âand just keep it empty.â
Tim kicks her under the table.
The library exhales as the evening thins out. Lucas and Dina leave around six, their voices fading down the marble stairwell, footsteps swallowed by the buildingâs cavernous quiet. Gotham presses itself against the tall windows, the sky outside bruised purple and gray, streetlights flickering on one by one like tired sentries. The stained glass above the stacks bleeds muted color onto the floorâdusty golds and blues that settle into the cracks of old stone.
By seven, Stephanie finally closes her textbook, the heavy thud echoing louder than it should in the near-empty room. She leans back in her chair, stretching her arms over her head, curls spilling down her shoulders in loose blonde spirals that catch the lamplight. Her skin still holds a faint tan despite Gothamâs winter, freckles scattered across her nose and cheeks like constellations she never bothered to memorize.
She glances between Tim and you.
Lloyd left a few minutes ago.
You drifted back to the head of the table after, slipping into the seat like it was always yours, familiar and effortless. Tim doesnât look upânot onceâbut Stephanie notices everything anyway. The way his fingers fly faster over the keyboard, knuckles pale, veins standing out against skin thatâs already too light from long nights indoors. The way he takes a sharp pull from his energy drink, throat working like he needs to swallow something down before it crawls out of him.
Gods save him.
She stays put.
Doesnât pack.
Doesnât even pretend to.
Just slouches sideways in her chair, one knee tucked up, phone glowing softly in her hand as she doomscrolls with deliberate casualness, firmly wedged between the two of you like a human barricade.
âDonât you have a date with Cass?â Tim asks eventually, voice rougher than he means it to be.
He doesnât look up. He keeps his eyes locked on his screen, lashes casting dark shadows against sharp cheekbones, jaw clenched tight enough to ache. His black hair falls messily into his eyes, untouched since this morning, making him look more tired than heâll ever admit in Stephanie's eyes.
Stephanie lifts her head slowly. âWhat?â
Tim swallows. Shifts in his chair. Still doesnât look at you. Not at the way you tilt your head when youâre confused, not at the way the overhead lamp warms your eyes into something soft and dangerous. âYour date,â he clarifies, aiming for nonchalance and missing by a mile. âWith Cassandra.â
Stephanieâs eye twitches.
Ah. Message received.
âI donât recall what youâre talking about, Timothy,â she says, tone sugary enough to rot teeth.
There are maybe six people in this world Stephanie Brown would willingly do something stupid and petty for.
Right now, sheâs sitting between two of them.
âDinner,â Tim adds, coughing slightly. âThat ramen place.â
He probably assumed sheâd help him for free.
And leave you alone with this monster?
Absolutely not.
âOhhh,â Stephanie drawls, suddenly thoughtful. âYeah. That nice, expensive one near the GCPD? The new one?â
Tim blinks, confused, watching as she nods to herself and begins packing her bag with exaggerated slowness, slipping pens into pockets, zipping and unzipping compartments. âYeah, I guessââ
âOh darn!â she interrupts brightly, patting her jacket pockets. âI left my wallet at home. Guess itâd be easier to cancel on Cass and reschedule.â
You pull one earbud free, brow knitting as you glance between them, noticing the way Timâs eyebrow jumps, a sharp little tell he never quite learned to hide.
âYouââ Tim cuts himself off, exhales hard through his nose, then reaches into his jacket and pulls out his wallet. He doesnât even look at Stephanie when he hands it over. âHere. Donât be a bad girlfriend andââ
âAww, youâre so sweet,â Stephanie cuts in, batting her lashes dramatically as she plucks his black card straight from his wallet. She slips on her jacket, curls bouncing as she turns to you with a grin thatâs all mischief and affection. âIsnât he just the sweetest?â
You hesitate, head tilting slightly. âUh⊠yeah.â
âYOUâRE GOING TO BE LATE,â Tim suddenly snaps, voice echoing through the quiet library, drawing irritated looks from a few remaining students as he stands and physically herds a giggling Stephanie away from the table. âGOODBYE. HAVE FUN.â
She laughs as she goes, practically skipping toward the exit, boots clicking against stone, blonde curls swinging as she throws a careless wave over her shoulder.
Tim watches her disappear into the stairwell, shoulders slumping just a fraction.
With the way she vanishes into Gothamâs night, he already knowsâdeep, deep downâthat heâs losing at least two thousand dollars tonight.
The library settles again, lights humming softly, the city breathing outside the windows.
And youâre still there.
Thereâs an empty seat between the two of you where Stephanie sat.
You donât hesitate. You stand and move into it like itâs muscle memory, like gravity still knows where to put you, like you didnât just walk Lloyd out to his car ten minutes ago with your hand wrapped around his sleeve, laughing softly like you were something out of a storybookâlike his fucking prince charming.
The chair scrapes quietly against the floor as you pull it in, close enough that Tim feels the shift in air before he sees you settle beside him. His shoulders tense instinctively, pale skin already gone tight under the library lights, hair falling into his eyes as he stares a little too hard at his screen.
âWhat are you working on?â you ask, easy and conversational, fingers sliding up to tune your music down as you keep sketching, pencil moving in loose, confident strokes. It looks like something for art classâshading layered gently, lines purposeful without being precious. Stephanie finished the final touches on her landscape the moment she arrived, declared it done, and promptly started meddling.
Timâs answer comes a beat late.
âUhââ His voice stutters slightly, like it caught on the way out. âJust⊠trying to learn this new code. Finished school stuff already.â
You lean just enough to glance at his screen, not touching him, not quite, but close enough that he can see your reflection faintly in the dark glass. You nod, lips pursing thoughtfully. âLooks complicated.â
And then you go back to drawing.
Just like that.
Like you didnât used to lean into him when you worked, shoulder to shoulder, knee pressed against his under the table. Like your head didn't tilt toward his when you concentrated, lashes brushing his sleeve. Like that wasnât a year ago, like it wasnât still burned into him in exact, brutal detail.
Tim swallows.
âMhm,â he murmurs, the sound rougher than he intends, barely there, fingers hovering uselessly over his keyboard as the library hums around you bothâlights buzzing softly, pages turning somewhere far off.
And you sit there beside him anyway, close enough to undo him, drawing like nothing has changed at all.
Tim doesnât take your closeness for granted. He never has. Tim breathes it in the way heâs learned to breathe in every narrow allowance of proximity these days, slow and careful, like the moment might bruise if he holds it too tightly. You smell like your perfumeâsoft, familiar, worn into the fibers of your coatâlayered with the papery dryness of old books and the faint, comforting bitterness of tea you shared earlier with Dina, mugs cooling forgotten on the table between half-finished thoughts.
And under all of thatâbarely there but persistent once he catches itâis cedarwood.
Not his.
The stupid blondeâs.
It clings faintly, like static, like a reminder pressed into the air itself.Â
You walked him to his car.Â
Tim isnât a traditionalist, not really, but itâs winter and Gotham doesnât do gentle cold; it bites, sharp and personal, and it only took Lloyd four quiet, âNo, I insistââs from you to give in.Â
Amateur. Tim files it away automatically before he lets himself breathe again anyway, because denying it would hurt worse, because this is still you. His fingers crack at the knuckles without him realizing, a soft, dry sound swallowed by the libraryâs hush, and his gaze driftsâunintentional, unguardedâdown to your sketchbook.
And stops.
Freezes.
Red Robin stares back at him from the page.
Not stiff. Not posed. Caught in motion, balanced on the edge of something unseen, weight shifted to one hip like heâs mid-turn, cape flaring in a way that suggests momentum rather than drama.Â
The pencil work is confidentâdark where it needs to be, light where it breathesâshading layered patiently along the lines of the suit, the texture of the fabric suggested with nothing more than pressure and restraint. The mask sits just right on the face, angular but not harsh, eyes narrowed with focus rather than anger.
It isnât copied. Itâs remembered.
Tim sees details no camera would ever bother with: the slight tension in the jaw, the way the line of the neck curves when heâs bracing to move, the subtle asymmetry that makes the figure human instead of iconic.
When Tim looks up, slow and careful, he finds you smiling softly as you draw, lashes lowered, pencil moving with quiet certainty. You once told him youâd never draw himâthat it was bad luck, that you loved him too much to risk it, that some things shouldnât be pinned down or flattened onto paper.
Gods help him, youâve drawn him the way people draw something theyâre afraid to lose.
Tim almost scoffs. Almost tells you that Red Robin looks worse in real footage, that cameras catch the sweat, the smudges, the moments where heâs off-balance and barely holding it together. He almost jokes, almost reaches for distanceâ
And then he sees it.
The small beauty mark at the base of the neck, just beneath the line of the mask, placed so casually it could only come from familiarity. From proximity. From having looked at him up close, when the mask was off and the world was quiet.
Something in Timâs chest tightens, not painful, just full.
You drew him. And you did it sitting close enough that your sleeve brushes his arm when you shift, close enough that he can feel the steady warmth of you beside him, real and grounding, like you never stopped knowing exactly who he was beneath the masks and names and careful compartments.
âThought you were a Nightwing fan,â Tim murmurs, the words coughing their way out of him in a whisper meant for no one else.
You glance up at him, pencil pausing mid-stroke where itâs shaping the fall of hair along the mask line, graphite smudged faintly along your fingers. âThats all you, Tim,â you say easily, like itâs obvious. Like itâs always been obvious. âIâve always liked Red Robin the most.â
ââŠYeah?â Tim says after a second, his heart thudding too loud in his chest, the sound filling his ears until it feels like it might spill out of him. He shifts in his chair, shoulders drawing in slightly, like heâs bracing for impact. âHeâs kinda boring, though. Donât you think so?â
You laugh softly, the sound low and warm, shoulders lifting just a little as you shake your head. Your gaze drops back to the page, curls of hair falling forward as the pencil moves againâconfident, unhurriedâadding loose locks along the mask line, adjusting the angle of his jaw with a few precise strokes. âHeâs nice to look at, and his suit is coolâ you say, thoughtful, like youâre deciding it in real time. âThatâs all that matters for the project.â
Heat rushes to Timâs face, sudden and overwhelming, creeping up his neck and burning across his cheeks under the blue glow of his laptop screen. He swallows, fingers tightening around the edge of the table as if that might anchor him. âJust⊠nice?â he asks, voice thinner than heâd like, cracking ever so slightly at the end.
You donât look up. You hum instead, soft and considering, a small sound tucked between breaths as your pencil hesitatesâthen continues. âMhm. Well,â you add after a beat, lips curving faintly, âmaybe a little bit more.â
Timâs knee starts bouncing under the table, fast and restless, the motion telegraphing everything he refuses to say. He doesnât know what to do with thatâwhether itâs a compliment or a deflection or something gentler and more dangerous. His mouth opens, closes, then settles on a useless, noncommittal, âMhmâŠâ
You tilt your head, studying the sketch with a critical eye, tapping the pencil lightly against the paper once. Then, without warning, you say, âHe looks like if an Oreo Blizzard was a person.â
Tim pauses.
His fingers still on the keyboard. His knee stutters mid-bounce. The blush drains from his face, replaced by pure, quiet confusion as his brain stalls out completely. He stares at his screen like itâs betrayed him, cursor blinking patiently in the corner.
âTim?â
He blinks, slow and deliberate, like heâs surfacing from deep water.
Youâre looking up at him now, wide-eyed and earnest, lashes catching the warm lamplight, pencil hovering mid-air. Your mouth is tilted into something unsure, something fond.
âMhm?â he says, automatically, voice distant.
ââŠDairy Queen closes in ten minutes.â
The words land soft and absurd between you. Tim exhales a breath he didnât realize he was holding, shoulders loosening just a fraction, something in his chest easing even as his heart picks up again. He glances at you, then at the sketch, then back at youâcaught somewhere between disbelief and something dangerously close to hope.
ââŠI know.â His voice is careful, deliberate, each word weighed like a stone heâs been carrying around for years. ââŠAnd⊠what does that have to do with us?â
You groan, letting the edge of your sketchbook tap softly against his forearm, a playful, almost affectionate smack that makes him flinch just slightly. âCome on!â The protest is sharp but light, threaded with warmth that curls into the space between you despite the libraryâs stale, paper-scented air and the muted hum of fluorescent lights overhead.
Tim giggles, curling his fingers around the spot where the sketchbook landed, the sound of it mingling with his heartbeat in his ears, loud and jarring in the quiet. âHey! You just watched me give my card to Stephanie, Tim Drake is broke now.â he protests, voice clipped with mock indignation, but the curve of his lips and the crinkle at the corner of his eyes betray the joy of being near you, of sharing this space with you.
âIâll pay!â you insist, leaning a little closer, pencil still in hand, tracing shadows in the sketchbook as if the very act grounds you enough to be closer.
âAbsolutely not,â Tim says, shaking his head, pale skin still flushed faintly beneath the libraryâs dim glow, sharp jawline catching light, lashes brushing against the tops of his cheeks. His grin is soft, but the tilt of his head, the way his shoulders draw back and his hands still, betray a protective instinct he never can fully hide from you. âWhen have I ever let you pay for anything?â
Your mouth opens, ready to argue, âWell⊠that was when we were dating, thatâs differentââ
You cut yourself off mid-sentence. The words hit him like a sudden draft of winter air, sharp and real, and he sees it: the way your eyes flick toward his, the trace of hesitation. His smile falters, eyes no longer crinkling into the familiar crescent moons but softening into a tentative curve, a dimple barely showing at the corner of his mouth. His shoulders draw in slightly, almost imperceptibly, as if heâs bracing himself against a memory heâs never allowed himself to touch.
Heâs never heard you say itâname itâbefore.Â
That what you two had, what you still carry in the spaces between words and touches, was over and that the over part was actually real. Broken, maybe, but real. Your breakup wasnât a spoken ending; it was a silence heâd been forced to interpret, a confession he always assumed, but now youâre saying it anyway, in subtle, quiet ways, and it feels like the city itself has paused to make him process it.
ââŠMhmâŠYeah,â he murmurs, voice lower now, almost swallowed by the soft hum of the library. His gaze drops to his lap, hands brushing against each other in that small, nervous way he does when heâs unsure what to say but doesnât want to let the moment slip. ââŠUh I should have a 20 on me though, I'll just pay, yeah?â
The casual tone is a mask. Heâs giving up the nonchalant act heâs perfected over months of careful observation, of distancing himself from his own feelings, of hiding in plain sight. Beneath it, thereâs something elseâsomething protective, careful, a quiet pursuit to make this moment of pause yours as much as it is his, because he's so sick of your pauses only having an impact on him.
You glance at him, heart squeezing faintly at the expression on his face, at the way he shapes his sadness into something neat, contained, so it doesnât spill over into the world. Thereâs frustration in it, sure, but itâs measured, practicedâthe same way heâs always measured his words with you, the same way heâs always carried your heart alongside his own without ever breaking stride.
The subtle history of your relationshipâthe jokes, the shared silences, the afternoons spent wandering Gothamâs streets side by side, the whispered plans, the quiet fights and louder reconciliationsâall of it hums beneath the surface, threading through every glance, every brush of sleeves, every half-smile that was exchanged across the sketchbook between you.
For a fleeting moment, the world outside the library disappears, and the cityâgritty, cold, unforgiving Gothamâfades behind the steady pulse of proximity, the weight of unspoken words, and the quiet certainty that some things, even after endings, never truly go away.
Not if Tim will let it.Â
He didn't let go of Robin and he won't let go of you.
âCome on,â Tim mumbles, already rising to his feet, a small, careful smile tugging at his mouth as he starts packing upâlaptop slid into its sleeve, notebook stacked neatly on top, cords coiled with muscle memory precision, the pens you gifted him gathered like heâs afraid to leave any trace of you behind. âWe can use my car. You probably walked here right?â
You donât answer right away.
Youâre still stuck on the look he wore just moments ago, the way his expression cracked open without warning. Tim has always been controlled about thisâtoo controlled. When you called things off, he didnât argue. Didnât bargain. Didnât ask you to stay. Sometimes, in your worse moments, you resented that. It felt like indifference masquerading as respect.
But the way his blue eyes widened earlier, bright and unguarded for just a second, the way his composure slippedâit was the first time you saw how deeply it landed. How much it still mattered.
The realization unsettles you, stirring something low and uncertain in your gut, the quiet sense that maybe following him now isnât as harmless as it feels.
âYou cominâ?â Tim asks over his shoulder as he adjusts the strap of his bag, posture easy but hopeful. He pauses, glancing back. âOr⊠I can heat up the car first. If you want.â
âNo, Iââ You stop yourself, then shake your head gently, moving to pack your things instead. Pencil tucked away, sketchbook closed with care. You hesitate only a moment before taking one last look at the Red Robin drawing, fingertips lingering at the edge of the page like a goodbyeâor a promiseâbefore you slide it into your bag, almost reverently.
When you turn back around, Tim is already there.
Holding your coat out for you.
You jump a little, startled enough to laugh, the sound breaking the tension. âGod,â you chuckle, slipping your arms into the sleeves, âAlfred is rubbing off on you.â
âYeah, well,â Tim says casually, adjusting the collar for you without thinking, âhe says you rubbed off on me, so.â
He hopes what he just said sticks.
It does.
Your fingers pause mid-button, the moment stretching thin and quiet between you.
+1 point to Tim Drake.
âHow bad is it?â you mumble, voice pitched with playful dread as Tim cracks the heavy library doors open just enough to peer outside.
Your fur coat does not have a hood.
âUhâŠâ Tim glances back at you, a nervous smile flickering as a gust of icy wind snakes raindrops inside. âHow about I just pull the car up front?â
You sigh, already knowing the answer. âThey wonât let you.â
Gothamâs library sits stubbornly away from main roads, tucked back like a secret itâs trying to protect. With the cityâs endless appetite for destruction, theyâve decided some things are worth guardingâthis place being one.
âCome here,â Tim murmurs.
He tugs gently at the sleeve of your coat, pulling you closer before you can overthink it. He unzips his jacket and angles himself instinctively, lifting one side to shield your head and shoulders from the cold, creating a small pocket of warmth that smells like clean fabric, ozone, and something unmistakably him.
You falter.
Tim doesnât move. Doesnât rush it. Just stands there, steady, letting you decide.
Your hands hover for a second before settling against his chest, fingers curling into the fabric like youâre reminding yourself that friends do this too. That this doesnât have to mean more.
+1 point to Tim Drake.
The cold rain hits the moment you step outside, sharp and immediate, Gotham winter cutting through fabric and skin alike, the wind threading itself between buildings like it knows exactly where to hurt. Snow hasnât quite committed yet, but the ground is slick with old ice and slush, the sidewalk shining faintly under the amber streetlamps like itâs been lacquered with danger.
Tim moves first.
Not rushing you, not pullingâjust angling himself so his shoulder blocks the worst of it, his jacket still half-open, one arm hovering close enough to guide without touching. You fall into step beside him automatically, boots striking the pavement a little too fast, breath puffing white in front of you, laughter caught somewhere between nerves and cold.
The library looms behind you, all stone and quiet judgment, while Gotham opens up aheadâwet streets, distant sirens, the low hum of traffic threading through the night. The parking lot feels farther than it should, stretched thin by the cold, by the way your coat slips just slightly on your shoulders, by the fact that your fingers are numb and your steps are getting shorter.
You slip.
Itâs smallâjust a fraction of a second where your heel skids on a patch of ice you didnât seeâbut itâs enough. Enough for your balance to tip, for your stomach to lurch, for the world to tilt wrong.
Tim catches you without thinking.
His hand is firm at your waist, fingers splaying through the fur of your coat, his other arm bracing you before you can even gasp. The contact is sudden and close and undeniable, your momentum carrying you straight into him, chest to chest, the impact softened only by the way he adjusts instantly, grounding you like this is a problem heâs solved a hundred times before.
For a heartbeat, neither of you moves.
Your breath tangles with his, warm against cold, your gloved hands pressing instinctively against his jacket. You can feel the tension in his gripânot rough, not hesitantâjust precise, protective, like his body decided this was non-negotiable. His pulse jumps under your palm, fast and real, a quiet tell he never quite learned how to hide from you.
Then the moment passes.
He steadies you, eases you upright, hands lingering a second longer than strictly necessary before pulling back, giving you space without fully stepping away. The cold rushes back in immediately, reclaiming what little warmth you stole from him.
The car is close now.
He opens the passenger door for you, quick and efficient, one hand still hovering near your elbow as you slide inside, the seat cold even through your clothes. Snow crunches under his boots as he rounds the hood, movements smooth, practiced, the kind of unconscious choreography that comes from years of doing things fast and right.
You watch him through the windshield as he slips into the driverâs seat, shutting the door with a solid thunk that seals the world out. The car fills with the quiet whir of the heater starting up, the windows fogging faintly at the edges.
Inside, the air is warm, sealed tight against Gothamâs cold, the heater humming low beneath the dash. Everything unsaid sits between you, dense and heavy, pressing at your ribs.
Friends do that, right?
Youâd catch Stephanie at the waist if she slipped. Youâd grab Lucas too, even if he made a joke about it afterward.
Yeah.
Youâre friends.
+2 points to you.
You turn just in time to see him rake his fingers through his hair, trying to shake the rain loose, droplets scattering across his knuckles and the collar of his jacket. His black hair sticks up in damp, uneven strands, darker with moisture, lashes clumped slightly as he blinks.Â
When he catches you looking, his mouth curves without hesitationâeasy, familiarâeyes crinkling at the corners, teeth flashing, one dimple cutting deep into his cheek.
Your heart stutters, sharp and traitorous.
+2 points to Tim Drake.
You look away too quickly, forcing your hands to move, to do something normal, something harmless. You dig through your bag like youâre on autopilot, fingers brushing past pencils and folded paper until you find the packet of tissues. You hold it out to him, tone light, practiced, the way you talk when you donât want him to notice anythingâs wrong.
âDry your hair, youâre going to get sickââ
âHands are full,â Tim hums, distracted but smiling, one hand reaching back to shove both your bags into the backseat, the other twisting the key and cranking the heater higher. Warm air spills over your legs almost immediately.
So you move.
You pull a tissue free and lean in, close enough that your knee brushes his, close enough that his warmth bleeds into you. You scrunch the damp front of his bangs between your fingers, careful at first, then a little more deliberate, dragging the tissue through dark strands.
Tim freezes.
Not stiffânot pulling awayâjust⊠still. Like his body hasnât been updated with whatever rule youâre operating under now. His shoulders lock, breath hitching just slightly as your fingers brush his scalp, familiar in a way that hurts. You can feel how soft his hair still is, how it curls faintly at the ends when itâs wet.
God. Itâs been so long.
Youâd do this for Stephanie.
You would.
Youâd even do it for Lucas if he complained enough.
Tim is caught somewhere between letting himself melt into the touch and the dull ache of realizing heâs been reduced to the same category. Just another friend. Another person youâre gentle with.
+2 points to you.
âI think itâs dry,â he mumbles, voice lower now.
âNo, itâsââ You pause, lifting the tissue, fingers brushing through once more. Itâs slick. Too slick. You frown slightly, eyes narrowing as realization clicks.
You look at him.
He doesnât look back.
âUhââ His jaw tightens, gaze fixed firmly on the windshield.
âTim.â
âSo what do you want to get?â he rushes out, too fast. âSoft serve, maybe? Blizzard probablyââ
âTim.â
âYou know I was thinkingââ
âTim Drake,â you burst out laughing, the tension snapping, âyou stole my fucking hair serum!â
You smack his shoulder, not hard, just enough to make a point, before leaning back to toss the used tissue into the tiny trash can tucked by the consoleâthe one you bought and insisted he keep there. He complained about it. Still kept it.
âYou left it in my room,â Tim huffs, finally looking at you again, defensive but amused, cheeks pink as he flips on the seat heater under you. âThatâs your fault.â
You stare at him for a second, mouth still parted like youâre gearing up for an argument, then think better of it. The tension drains out of you in a soft exhale, and you turn toward the mirror instead, lifting a hand to smooth down a few stray flyaways, checking your reflection in the dim interior light. Your smile lingers there, small and unguarded, like it always has.
Some things, annoyingly, havenât changed at allâeven if it feels like everything else has.
And thatâs what makes it so sickening for Tim.
Because you still smile at him the same way, still tilt your head when you listen, still buy him an extra soda from the vending machine without asking because you know heâll drink it later, still memorize a new coffee order for him every season like itâs muscle memory. Like loving him was a habit your body never quite unlearned.
You do all of thatâand then you kiss someone who isnât him.
Tim presses his tongue hard against the inside of his cheek as he pulls out of the library parking lot, jaw tightening just enough to ache. The tires hiss softly against wet pavement, streetlights bleeding into long, smeared reflections across the windshield as Gotham opens up around themâbrick and neon and rain-slick streets, the city breathing low and restless even this late.
He keeps his eyes on the road, hands steady on the wheel, posture relaxed in a way that feels practiced rather than real. The heater hums, the radio stays off. Thereâs no room for anything else.
Five-minute drive to Dairy Queen.
Plenty of time to pretend this doesnât hurt.
The radio settles into a song neither of you bothered to change, something mellow and familiar, the kind that feels like itâs always existed in Timâs car. The bass is low, steady, syncing with the hum of the engine and the whisper of tires over rain-dark pavement. Gotham slides past in slow motionâstorefronts half-lit, steam curling up from subway grates, traffic lights blinking like tired eyes that never quite close.
The dashboard casts a soft glow over Timâs hands on the wheel, pale against the dark interior, veins faintly visible where his grip tightens and relaxes in small, unconscious adjustments. His black hair is still slightly damp, curling at the edges, lashes casting shadows when he blinks.Â
There's a drop of water at the corner you watch fall from the reflection on your window. He drives like he always doesâprecise, smooth, attentiveâbut thereâs something restrained about him now, like heâs holding himself a fraction too carefully.
You sit angled toward the passenger window, knee pulled up slightly, coat tucked close around you. The glass reflects pieces of you back at yourselfâyour eyes, the curve of your cheek, the movement of your fingers as you absently toy with a loose thread. Every so often, without really deciding to, your gaze drifts back to him.
It happens at a stoplight first.
Tim glances over, brief and instinctive, like checking a mirror. Your eyes meet, and for a second the city noise dulls, the song flattening into background hum.Â
Itâs not charged.
Itâs worse than that.
Itâs soft. Easy. Like nothing ever broke.
Thereâs no surprise, no tension, just recognitionâquiet, familiar, intimate in a way that doesnât ask permission. You look away first, clearing your throat softly, adjusting the hem of your coat like youâve been caught doing something you shouldnât.
The light turns green. He looks forward again.
His free hand lifts from his knee, fingers flexing once, twice, hovering in the narrow space between you and the console. Close enough that you feel the shift in air, the warmth of him.Â
Timâs knuckles brush the seam of your jeans when the car rolls over uneven pavement, and for half a heartbeat his hand drifts higher, instinctive, memory-driven to protect you.
He almost rests it on your thigh.
Almost.
You feel itâthe pause, the jerkâbefore he pulls back, settling his hand firmly against his own leg instead, thumb rubbing into his black jeans like heâs trying to erase the impulse. His jaw tightens, then eases. The song swells briefly, chorus bleeding into the small space, and the moment dissolves without ever being acknowledged.
You shift again, uncrossing and recrossing your legs, pretending itâs just for comfort. The next time you glance at him is when you move to put your hands in front of the heater, heâs already watching you, eyes softer now, unreadable in the dim light. The corner of his mouth twitches like he might smile, but he doesnât. The road curves, and he turns his attention back to it, streetlights sliding in rhythmic flashes across his face.
The Dairy Queen sign appears ahead, bright and almost ridiculous against Gothamâs muted palette. The song on the radio fades into its final notes as Tim signals and slows, the car easing into the lot.
Five minutes have passed.
It felt longer than that. Gods save him.
+2 points to you.
âIâll go order,â Tim mumbles, already reaching for his wallet like itâs a lifeline, fingers curling tight around the worn leather. He cranks the heat up another notch before you can protest, warm air rushing over you in a sudden wave, fogging the edges of the windshield. Then heâs goneâdoor opening, cold slicing in for half a second before it shuts again.
You watch him through the glass. Trying to ignore the fact he still remembered your order, that he didn't need to ask.
The night swallows him immediately, Gothamâs winter biting hard, breath blooming white as he steps onto the slick pavement. Tim shrugs his jacket higher on his shoulders, posture straightening as if the cold has given him something tangible to focus on. His reflection ghosts faintly in the window as he walks, pale under the fluorescent lights, black hair getting soaked again before he remembers to put his hood on.
He looks smaller out there. Or maybe farther away.
Inside the car, itâs too warm, too quiet. The radio hums low, some late-night song bleeding softly into the space he left behind. You rub your hands together, then still them, feeling strangely restless. The seat still holds the impression of him, warmth lingering like a memory your body hasnât caught up to yet.
You lean back in the seat, staring at the ceiling for a second, exhaling slowly.
Outside, snow starts to fallânot enough to stick yet, just thin flakes catching the light as they drift down. Gotham pretending, briefly, to be gentle.
You donât know why your chest feels tight.
You donât know why youâre counting the seconds until he comes back.Â
You donât know why the way the warm lights of the Dairy Queen reveal the fact that Tim is blushing makes you want to whine into your hands.
Itâs ridiculous. Embarrassing, even. The glass is smudged, the fluorescent glow too soft for Gotham, and yet there he isâstanding a little too close to the counter, shoulders slightly hunched, ears pink where his dark hair curls against them.Â
He keeps shifting his weight like he doesnât know what to do with himself, like the choice between a Blizzard or soft serve is somehow a high-stakes decision. You can tell exactly when the cashier smiles at him, because the color in his face deepens, creeping down his neck.
You shouldnât notice things like that anymore.
You press your palms flat against your thighs, grounding yourself, reminding yourself that this is fine, that this is normal. People blush. Tim has always blushed easily. It doesnât mean anything. It canât mean anything.
And yet.
Your chest feels tight in that familiar, unwelcome wayâlike your heart has recognized something your brain is refusing to name. You told yourself you ended things because it was the right choice, because timing and fear and the city itself were all stacked against you. You told yourself that love doesnât always mean staying. Youâve repeated it enough times that it almost sounds true.
Almost.
Because watching him now, framed in broken tile and menu boards and warm yellow light, you feel that old ache stir, the one you never quite managed to bury. Itâs not sharp anymore. Itâs worse than thatâdull and constant, like a bruise you keep pressing just to check if itâs still there.
You think about the way his hand hovered in the car.
About how easily you slipped back into orbit around him.
About how natural it felt to sit close, to touch his hair, to laugh like nothing fragile existed between you.
You loved someone else. Youâre supposed to now too.Â
Lloyd is kind and steady and uncomplicated, and you chose him because choosing him felt safe. Because he doesnât know how to look at you the way Tim doesâlike heâs memorizing you for later, like heâs afraid of forgetting.
Maybe thatâs the problem.
Tim has never forgotten you. Not once. And some treacherous part of you wonders if you ever really wanted him to.
You swallow, forcing your gaze away from Tim, staring instead at the fogging glass, your own reflection staring back at youâuncertain, flushed, caught somewhere between past and present.
You donât know what this feeling is.
You just know it hasnât gone away.
And maybe thatâs because you never really knew it at allânever gave it a name, never looked it straight in the eyeâespecially not in that library parking lot not even five hours earlier when Lloyd ended things, headlights painting the asphalt gold and gray, cutting long slices of shadow between you.Â
Youâd walked him to his car like you always did, side by side, shoulders brushing ever so slightly, pretending the cold wasnât gnawing through your coat.
You gave him a blow job in the back seat. Thinking back on it now, you cant really find it in yourself to regret it even if it ended in a break up, because imaging Lloyd as Tim in the moment was so fucking easy.
âHey⊠look, youâre great and all, butââ Lloyd had said after, voice low and panting as his hand started fumbling at the back of his neck, eyes darting anywhere but yours, like he was afraid of seeing something permanent there. âI just think you like me a bit more than I like you andâ fuck its making me feel so guilty thatâŠits kind of hard to be around you.â
And he wasnât wrong.
You had liked Lloyd. You liked that he could smile and make it feel ordinary, the sort of steady warmth that didnât demand constant attention or complicate your life. You liked that he made it easy to exist without thinking twice, that holding his hand didnât feel like carrying a secret you werenât allowed to tell anyone. He was the right shape for comfort. A safe harbor in a city that preferred to chew up and spit out anything soft.
But every time he leaned close, every time his lips brushed yours, your mind betrayed you, sneaking past the warmth and settling on the memory of someone else.
You had always pretended it was Tim. Always.
Lloydâs hands on your waist became Timâs in your imaginationâsteady, careful, asking permission in the way only Tim ever had. Lloydâs smile faded into the one Tim gave you when he was nervous, the way it crinkled his eyes and made his dimple appear like a secret he didnât know you had already discovered.Â
The warmth in Lloydâs chest became the slow, even thrum of Timâs heartbeat, the one you had memorized during years of side-by-side walks through rain-slicked Gotham streets.Â
Every kiss, every casual touch, every laugh you gave Lloyd was quietly replaced in your head by a ghost that looked like a boy in black and red, hair curling into his forehead, sharp jawline cut just enough by shadows to make you think of nights spent leaning too close, breathing too fast, and wanting to memorize him in ways that felt too intimate to ever say aloud.
With Lloyd it felt like standing under a lamp-post in the rain that only warmed one shoulder.Â
Comfortable. Enough. But never whole.Â
Never the way Tim was whole, even when he was frustrating, even when he made you want to scream or run or hide.
Because Tim would always stand in the rain and hear you scream at him to come in the warmth too with a smile on his face.
Tim would never listen to you.
You never meant it to be cruel. You never wanted to betray the quiet warmth Lloyd offered. You told yourself it wasnât fair to Lloyd. You triedâGod, you triedâto be present, to let yourself fall for the person who waited in front of you instead of the one who had always haunted the shadows behind your eyes.
And yet, just hours ago, when Lloyd said it, naming the imbalance, the truth hit harder than the cold ever could.
You did like Lloyd more than Lloyd would ever love you.
Because even without him realizing it, all you saw was Tim.
Through tan skin, blonde hair, green eyes and frecklesâyou saw pale skin, dark hair, blue eyes and beauty marks.
Every small gift, you'd come home and set it besides the ones given to you by Tim.
For fucks sake you recommended Lloyd the same cologne Tim used.
You were disappointed when he tried the tester in the store and scrunched his nose, shaking his head with a soft and awkward smile.
Sitting in Timâs car now, the heater blasting warmth that canât chase away the memory of that parking lot, the streetlights reflecting off the damp asphalt like shattered glass, you see Tim in the glow of the Dairy Queen sign, all pale skin and dark lashes and eyes wide enough to swallow everything you think youâve built.Â
The blush creeping up his neck is more than color; itâs a reminder, sharp as a blade, of everything youâve tried to forget.
You trace the curve of his jaw in your mind, remembering every late night, every quiet conversation, every time he had said nothing at all but made you feel known in a city that never wanted to know anyone. Every casual brush of fingers, every laugh, every way he movedâlike he belonged in the same orbit you couldnât leaveâfloods you now with all the things youâd denied yourself, all the longing youâd tried to disguise as ordinary life with someone else.
And Tim⊠Tim never stopped noticing. Never stopped caring. Never stopped being Tim.
And maybe thatâs why your chest aches so much right now. Maybe thatâs why the warmth in the car, the song low on the radio, the smell of him mixing with the faint hint of gasoline from your city outside, feels like a tether you canât break.
You donât know what this feeling is.
But you know one thing for certain.
It has always been him.
And you used to be furious about it. Angry in the way you only are when something is both inevitable and unfair, when itâs been carving into your chest for years and youâve spent every ounce of energy pretending it wasnât there. Now it feels⊠numb.Â
Like touching a wound that never healed but also never bled, a dull ache that pulses quietly under the surface, paralyzed, anesthetized, but still very much alive.
Tim slides back into the car, shaking a light drizzle off his hair, the glow from the Dairy Queen sign painting him in gold and wet streaks. Heâs smiling, that soft, crooked smile that used to make your chest flip entirely against your will. âGot us two Oreos,â he says, setting the cup holder between you, carefully balancing the blizzards against the gear shift before he locks the doors.
You remember your own words from earlier, muttering about Red Robin.Â
âHe looks like if an Oreo Blizzard was a person.â, you said.
Irony doesnât even begin to cover it.
He hums as he adjusts the heater, flicking the vents toward you. âThe cashier was just about to close upâwe got really lucky, soââ
You shrug, eyes tracing over the familiar curve of his jaw and landing on the beauty mark you had drawn on Red Robin, the one just below his ear, just the right spot to catch a glimmer of light. âProbably because she thought you were cute,â you say casually, but your voice carries just enough weight to make him pause.
Tim freezes mid-zip, one hand suspended over his jacket like heâs been caught mid-breath. âHuh?â
âThatâs why you were blushing, right?â You tilt your head, faintly amused, tracing the warmth spreading over his cheeks. âYouâre still red. Come on, tell meâwhat pick-up line did she use on you, hmm?â
Itâs a reflexive memory. The same teasing he used on you the first time you had dared talk openly about Lloyd in front of him, that sly tilt of his head, the curve of his mouth as he dug his nails into his palm, âWhat pick-up line did that Greek god use on you, hm?â
You watch him now, fingers tightening on his zipper, knuckles pale, jaw working as though heâs chewing over his words before they leave his lips. Timâs never been good at casual lies. Heâs too honest, too exact, too weighted by the things he feels.
âWhatâWhat are you talking about?â His voice comes out careful, slightly high, trying to steady, but it trembles anyway.
You blink, caught off guard by the genuine confusion in his expression. For a split second, the playful rhythm of your teasing falters. âIt was a joke, Tim⊠relax.â You straighten in your seat, shoulders lifting, trying not to let the sting in your chest show. You lift a spoon of your blizzard to your lips, the cold a sharp contrast to the heat radiating from him, and the way heâs frozen there makes your stomach twist in ways that Lloyd never could.
The city hums quietly outside, Gotham rain tapping against the roof, a soft percussion to the pulse between you. Timâs eyes flicker to yours, a mixture of something like guilt, embarrassment, and that all-too-familiar longing you can read in him like Braille. Heâs close, too close, and every small movementâthe way his hand hovers near the cup holder, the slight lean of his shoulder toward yoursâpulls at old threads in your chest, tangling with feelings you thought youâd put away neatly in labeled boxes.
ââŠShe wasnât flirting with me.â
Tim says it like heâs placing something fragile on the dashboard between you, careful, deliberate. The sentence sits there for a second, humming with the low noise of the car, the heater, the city outside that never quite shuts up.
âShe was teasing me to her coâworker,â he continued after a beat, eyes fixed straight ahead, unfocused, like heâs watching something far past the windshield. âAbout being âanother slave in the rain for their master.â Some other guy was here ten minutes earlier rushing for his girlfriend.â
You pause with the spoon still in your mouth. An oreo crumb dissolving slow and sweet against your tongue, cold blooming where you donât want it. You donât swallow right away.
âWhat I was⊠blushing about,â Tim adds, quieter now, voice thinning, âwas that I realized Iâm worse than an actual slave.â
The Dairy Queen lights flicker once, then go dark, leaving the interior of the car wrapped in soft amber and streetlight glow. Outside, two girls laugh as they lock up, their footsteps crunching faintly on wet pavement as they head for the same car, shoulders bumping, warmth shared without thinking.
âIâm choosing to be here,â Tim says, jaw tightening, âafter being thrown out of the palace.â His fingers curl tighter when he moves his hands to rest against the steering wheel. âHow pathetic is that?â
The word lands heavy, not dramaticâjust tired. Worn smooth by repetition.
You donât answer right away. You wait until the girlsâ car pulls out of the lot, headlights sweeping once across the windshield before disappearing into Gothamâs throat. Until itâs just the two of you again, sealed inside this small, warm pocket of light and breath and old habits.
Only then do you turn.
Timâs cheek is pressed into his forearms now, those braced against the steering wheel like heâs holding himself upright by force alone. His lashes cast shadows against pale skin. His shoulders are drawn in, posture small in a way he only ever allowed around you.
+4 points to Tim Drake.
ââŠI always liked you pathetic,â you murmur finally, voice low, casual, like it doesnât cost you anything to say. You scoop another bite of ice cream, deliberately unhurried. âYou know that.â
Tim huffs a laugh before he can stop himself, the sound sharp and breathless, and he drops his face fully into his arms like heâs hiding from the relief of it. When he speaks again, his voice is muffled, thinner, pitched exactly where he knows it will make you soften.
âI was too scared to ask you,â he admits. âWhen you said you didnât think I was good for you⊠did you honestly think that sounded like a breakup?â
Your spoon pauses halfway to your mouth.
âIt wasnât meant to be a breakupâŠexactlyâŠI guess,â you say, quietly.
Tim scoffs, straightening just enough to rake a hand through his hair, frustration crackling under his skin like static. He shoves a too-large bite of ice cream into his mouth, jaw working like heâs punishing himself for it. âYeah, you just went home and blocked me on Instagram.â
âDidnât block your spam, though,â you shoot back automatically. You knew he'd just hack into your account if you did that.
He groans your name, long and exasperated, twisting in his seat until heâs facing you fully now. His knee bounces once before he stills it with his own hand. âWhat the hell did I do?â he asks, not accusingâjust genuinely lost. âIâGod, I know I fuck up more times than Iâd like to admit, but we always talked through things. Always. I let it go because you seemed so sure it was what you wanted, butââ
He stops mid-sentence.
Because your hand moves.
Your fingers slide into his hair, cool and gentle, adjusting his damp bangs where they fall too low over his forehead. The contact is soft, familiar, devastating. Tim goes utterly still, breath hitching like youâve pressed a switch inside him. His lashes flutter once, then lower, instincts winning out as he leans just slightly into your touch.
You feel the heat of him under your palm. Alive. Real.
âYou always looked like Red Robin the most when your hair was like this,â you murmur, thumb brushing his temple. âI liked drawing you with wet hair. In suit or otherwise.â
Oh.
Fuck.
Timâs eyes open slowly, tracking your face like heâs memorizing it all over again. He searches your expression, looking for a joke, a deflection, a safe place to landâand when he finds none, his gaze drifts anyway. Your nose. Your mouth. The familiar curve of your jaw. Your brows. Like this might be the last time heâs allowed to look this closely.
ââŠWhen did you find out?â he asks at last, voice barely there. âIs that why you broke up with me?â
The question isnât sharp. Itâs scared.
Were you afraid?
That someone would come for him?
For you?
Or that he didnât trust you enough to tell you first?
ââŠYeah.â The word is a whisper, a soft confession that hangs between you, stretching longer than it should. You let your hand shift from where it had rested in his hair, moving carefully to his cheek, tracing the line from jaw to temple with a gentle touch, almost reverent.Â
It pains you to feel him flinch just slightly, a reflex, the tiniest hesitation to let you keep touching him, and it twists something raw in your chest.
âI⊠I was actually going to argue about you being late to our date,â you admit, voice shaking a little, caught between guilt and memory, âthen I saw you with that bandage on your neck, after watching Red Robin get struck in the news. Iâve drawn you both beforeâno, Iâve drawn you a million times, with and without the mask but that⊠that was the first time I noticed the beauty mark was the same. Because you were hiding it, covering it with a bandage.â
Your thumb brushes over his skin again, the motion gentle, unconscious, like youâre trying to soothe the memory away, like the touch can erase the hours of fear and worry that was tucked into your chest. Tim flinches again, but this time doesnât pull away; instead, his hand rises to press yours against his cheek, anchoring you there as though letting go would mean you leaving for good.
âDo you know⊠do you know how scared I was?â you whisper, voice tight, breath catching. âHow horrible it felt, knowing I was making you run from one end of Gotham to the other, after getting struck by a sword⊠all for a stupid coffee date?â
The car is still except for the low hum of the heater and the rhythmic tick of rain against the windshield, and for a moment, itâs just the two of you. The city has receded, the distant rumble of traffic and sirens muted, as though Gotham itself is leaning away, giving you this small, private corner in the chaos. Tim presses his cheek more firmly into your hand, and you feel the subtle warmth of him there, the heat of his skin against yours, grounding you in the moment.
âYou didnât make me do anything, Iââ His words falter, swallowed in the space between heartbeats.
âTim,â you interrupt, firm, the edge of your voice tempered with care, âyou were going to kill yourself doing that. Being Red Robin, working at Wayne Enterprises, keeping your grades decent enough for this semesterâhow could I ask for more than that?â
Your words float in the car like smoke, curling around both of you, and Timâs shoulders slump slightly, tension leaking out as he exhales harshly through his nose.
âHow dare you not?â he hisses, voice low and almost desperate, but the words tremble. âHow could you make that choice for me?â
âI wasnât making the choice for you,â you murmur, softening, pulling your hand slightly awayâbut not fully, keeping it hovering over his cheek, tethering him to you. âI was making the choice for me. I didnât want to feel guilty for using your time. I was being selfish⊠I am selfish, and Iââ
âYou donât have to feel guilty,â he whispers, cutting through the quiet like a knife, but the tremor in his voice betrays him.
âWell I did.â You let it slip past your lips, a quiet affirmation, almost too soft for the sound to travel over the heater hum and the patter of rain.
Tim bites the inside of his cheek, tilting his head just enough to avoid your gaze while trying to form a coherent thought, a shield against the storm of everything youâve just said. His eyes, those blue storms, flicker briefly to yours before darting to the dash, the blurred neon outside reflecting like water on glass. Your chest tightens, because even in his attempt to hide it, you see him unravel, every careful layer of control peeling back with each blink.
âI couldnât handle you,â you mumble, the words slipping out quieter than you mean them to, like theyâre embarrassed to exist at all. Youâve never said it out loud before. Never shaped it into something real enough to hear yourself. âI couldnât give youââ
âAll Iâm hearing,â Tim cuts in briskly, too fast, too sharp, âis that you loved me too much and your little head hurt at the thought of it.â
He rolls the window down, cold air rushing in, carrying the smell of rain and wet asphalt, and with a flick of his wrist he tosses his Blizzard toward the far trash can. It arcs clean and perfect through the air, lands dead center with a hollow plastic thunk.
A perfect trick shot.
Any other night, any other version of you, you wouldâve rolled your eyes and muttered, show off, just to watch him preen about it later.
Tonight, your chest feels too tight for sarcasm.
âYouâre hearing what you want to hear,â you say instead, flat, defensive, staring down at your melting ice cream like it might offer backup.
âYouâre saying what I want to hear,â he replies, softer now, turning fully toward you. He shifts in his seat, shoulder angling perpendicular to the driverâs side, body open in a way that makes your stomach flip unpleasantly. His knee bumps the center console. Heâs too close again. Heâs always been too close.
You donât respond. You just huff quietly and scoop up another bite of your Blizzard, chewing slower than necessary, dragging the moment out. It makes him smileâsmall, crooked, fond, like heâs catching a glimpse of something familiar and precious that he thought heâd lost.
âGod,â Tim murmurs under his breath, not quite looking at you, not quite not. âHow does he stand you being so in love with me?â
The words land heavy and wrong and accurate all at once.
Your entire body freezes.
Itâs like being flash-frozen mid-thought, like your blood turns to slush in your veins, like you might shatter if you move too fast. Mr. Freeze would be proud. You feel brittle. Exposed. Seen in a way youâve spent months pretending wasnât possible.
ââŠHe doesnât,â you mumble finally, voice barely holding together. Thereâs no point lying. You know Timâheâd peel it apart eventually. âHe broke up with me.â
Tim blinks.
Then he straightens abruptly, posture snapping upright like youâve yanked a wire inside him. His face scrunches with confusion, eyes scanning yours like heâs waiting for the punchline, the laugh track, the gotcha moment.
âHuhâwait, what?â
âLloyd broke up with me,â you repeat, quieter. âIn the parking lot.â
Tim actually gapes at you.
His mouth opens, then closes, then opens again, like the words keep slipping past whatever part of him is supposed to process reality. Under different circumstances, you mightâve laughed. Mightâve cataloged it as another fond memory. Instead, your brain chants relentlessly:
Stay mad at him. Remember the guilt. Donât forget why this hurts.
âHe broke up with you?â Tim repeats, disbelief thick in his voice.
âMhm.â
His hands lift helplessly, gesturing vaguely at youâyour coat, your hair, your existence. âWhy?â
âI donât know,â you say too quickly, the lie sliding out smoother than the truth ever could. âMaybe the blow job I gave him in the parking lot was ass.â
Tim freezes.
Completely. Like the sentence unplugged him.
For half a second, you consider backtracking, rolling your eyes, adding itâs a joke, Tim, relax, but you donât get the chance. Heâs already lunging for the window controls, shoving the glass down with frantic urgency before leaning out and promptly throwing up into the rain.
The car fills with the sound of retching, the cold air rushing in, the absurdity of it all crashing over you in waves.
You stare ahead, spoon suspended halfway to your mouth, wondering distantly how the hell the universe keeps finding new, deeply stupid ways to prove what you already know.
That it has always been him.
And that loving him has never been simple, or clean, or survivable without a little collateral damage.
Once your brain finally catches up, you move instinctively, slamming the empty Blizzard cup back into the holder with a clatter that echoes in the quiet car. Your hands reach for him, hesitating only a second before gathering the wet, dark strands of hair away from his face, bunching them carefully in your fingers.
âTIMâHeyââ you whisper, voice tight, low, unsure.
He just retches harder. His body shudders violently, leaning against your hand, the heat of him radiating through the sleeves of your coat. The smell of rain-soaked hair and ice cream fills the small space, cloying and intimate, and for a moment you canât breathe around it. Your hands stay there, cradling the damp strands, unsure if youâre holding him back or holding yourself together.
You rub his back in slow, tentative circles, trying to anchor him, trying to be the thing that doesnât move when everything inside you feels like itâs breaking. His shoulders tremble, and the quiet rattling of his breath mixes with the sound of the heater and the faint hum of the idling engine. The world outside the car blurs into wet, dark shapes and flickering streetlights.
After what feels like a lifetime, he pauses, shivering and slumped over, and then leans forward against the steering wheel with a deep, ragged heave. You kneel slightly on the seat to press a hand to his shoulder, letting your thumb brush the tense muscles under his jacket, feeling the rapid rise and fall of his back.
âHey,â you murmur again, softer this time, leaning your forehead briefly against his shoulder. You donât know what else to sayâthereâs no script for this moment, no words that could make it less raw, less humiliating, lessâŠhuman. All you can do is be present, your hands stubbornly refusing to leave him, letting the warmth of your body tether him just slightly to reality.
He heaves again, slower this time, chest shaking against the wheel, and finally slumps fully against it. His wet bangs stick to his forehead, and you brush them gently aside, letting your fingers linger there. The storm of the city presses against the windows, but inside the car, with the heater warming your legs and the smell of ice cream and rain, the world narrows to himâthis broken, beautiful, utterly human version of Tim Drakeâand the ache of wanting to fix him when thereâs nothing to fix but his own exhaustion and embarrassment.
You whisper his name again, almost a prayer, almost a curse.
His head lifts from the steering wheel, dark hair plastered to his forehead, eyelashes wet and trembling, and for a moment his brain seems to catch up to the situation. âHe breaks up with you after the blow job? What a fucking douchebag.â
Of course heâd always defend you, even if the rest of the world couldnât be bothered. Even if he has no context.Â
âHe didnât like it, I guess,â you mumble, heat crawling up your neck like slow flames, your ears burning in the dim orange glow of the Dairy Queen lights outside.
âBabe, donât fucking play with meâyour mouth is fuckingââ Tim begins, voice low and strangled, before you cut him off by shoving a spoonful of Oreo Blizzard into his mouth.
âDoes that get rid of the throw-up taste?â you murmur, squeezing your eyes shut as if the act could erase the memory of his words entirely.
He chews and swallows, still pulling back from the spoon, face scrunching. âIâm going to fucking kill him. I swear on Batmanâs life you hear meâIââ
âHe didnât like that I was⊠too into it,â you whisper, embarrassment curling in your chest like smoke. Even if no one else could hear, Tim could. Oh, Tim could.
âOkayâwhat?â he stammers, eyes widening in disbelief as a faint greenish flush creeps across his pale cheeks. A wave of nausea flickers across his expression, sharp and threatening, and your heart lurches.Â
Gods, heâs going to throw up again.
âWait! Wait!â you exclaim, hands flying up defensively, waving like flags, as your voice cracks from both embarrassment and fear, âI was pretending he was youâso it wasnât that hard, Timââ
âOur dicks are the same size?!â Tim yells, scandalized in a way that makes your stomach do somersaults, your cheeks warming hotter than the car seat heater under your thighs. âIâM NOT BIGGER?â
You blink at him, dumbstruck, voice caught somewhere between mortification and awe. âUh⊠sorry?â
He groans into his hands, still slouched against the wheel, hair wet and clinging to his temples. âI owe Stephanie four hundred bucks,â he mutters, like that explains everything.
Then, delirious, still tasting the faint bite of ice cream and bile, he flicks a glance at you, eyes wide, incredulous. âDid you⊠look for a guy with the same⊠on purpose?â
You stare at him, tilting your head slightly in the low, warm light of the Dairy Queen, the heater humming between you like itâs holding the moment hostage. âI went for a tan man with blonde hair,â you murmur, voice low and sharp, like a whip against his disbelief. âI want you to use your fucking brain and re-think that question and if you think Im that shallow.â
Tim opens his mouth, shuts it, opens it again. The pale skin of his cheeks blooms pink, almost purple under the harsh fluorescent lights that slice through the car like guilty spotlights. You always had a way of making him look like a kid caught with his hand in a jar of Bat-snacks.
âGods, youââ he starts, voice rising like a fragile dam on the verge of bursting, âyou always pull shit like this to throw me offâso⊠what, you were okay with him since he had free time?â
You blink at him, unsure if you should laugh or huff, but then you murmur, ââŠDonât word it like that.â
âI am!â he hisses, sharp and fragile all at once, his fingers twisting into his dark hair as if he can physically pull the frustration out. âGod⊠was this not hard for you like it was for me? Being away from me? Do you know how much I missed you? Iââ He pauses, jaw tightening, eyes flashing with something raw and desperate. âI sold out your fucking perfume, you know that? Bought forty bottles. I've gone through four in the past three weeks.â
You freeze, blink once, and feel your stomach twist with a strange, bittersweet mix of guilt and something almost like pride. Oh. Thatâs why your niche fragranceâthe one you've had for yearsâwas suddenly impossible to find, why youâd been clutching the last few sprays like they were oxygen. Youâd thought it was coincidence, scarcity, Gotham nonsense. But no. Heâd bought it all.
Your chest tightens. The heater hums low, the soft buzz filling the car like itâs conspiring to keep you trapped in this too-close, too-small world. Timâs cologne fills your nerves as he shifts forward. You can smell himâaftershave faint under his natural scent, a mix of charcoal and night air, sweat from nerves and embarrassment.
Your hand twitches, wanting to reach out, to smooth the tension from his shoulder or his hair, to do something that doesnât require words. But you stop, fingers frozen in midair, because every movement feels too loud in the shared quiet, too intimate.
Tim swallows, lips pressing into a thin line as his chest rises in a slow, uneven rhythm. âYou⊠you really didnât⊠think about me, did you?â he murmurs finally, not a question, more a plea. His voice is low, rough, weighted with longing and frustration and that thing he never lets anyone seeâthe part of him thatâs still a kid in the backseat of life, afraid heâll never measure up, afraid heâs too much or not enough.
âI thought of you too much,â you murmur, voice low, almost lost in the hum of the car heater and the faint pitter-patter of rain against the windshield. âThat was the problem. Thatâs why I broke up with you. Thatâs why⊠youâre not good for me.â
Tim groans, face pressing into the steering wheel as if the leather can absorb all the chaos between you. âHey, babe⊠I think you need to see a fucking therapist,â he mutters, voice muffled, defeated, but still sharp enough to make you blink.
âYou first,â you hiss back, crossing your arms, heat creeping up your neck, heart hammering too fast.
Tim scoffs, finally lifting his head just enough to reveal his dark eyes, pale skin flushed pink from both embarrassment and the heaterâs warmth. Then, almost casually, he reaches into the back seat, where a brown grocery bag rests behind the passenger seat, and pulls out a tube of toothpaste and a toothbrush.
You blink at him, unsure if youâre seeing things. âThat⊠thatâs the brand I use,â you say slowly, voice cracking slightly between disbelief and awe.
âI know,â he says, voice quiet but firm, almost a whisper of obsession, a breath of intent you can feel pressing against your skin. âBought your whole hygiene routine before I came to the library. It's coming in useful more quickly than I thought it would.â
You stare at him, mouth slightly open, unable to process the layers of thought, care, and absolute chaos wrapped up in his words. He pops open the toothbrush like itâs nothing, casual and deliberate, but your brain freezes on the fact that heâdown to the exact shade of pastel pink on the bristlesâbought the same one you use.
âYour⊠youâre actually crazy,â you whisper, awe and incredulity warring in your tone, your fingers brushing against your lips as if touching them would anchor you back to reality.
Tim twists in his seat just enough to lean toward the open window, toothbrush already in his mouth like this is the most normal thing in the world. The rain has slowed to a fine mist, the kind that hangs in the air instead of falling, and the parking lot is empty enough that Gotham feels briefly abandonedâlike the city has stepped away to give you privacy it never usually allows.
You watch his jaw move as he brushes, quick and methodical, too hard the way he does everything when heâs trying not to think. His shoulders are tense, drawn up near his ears, black hair still damp and curling at the ends where your fingers were not that long ago. Pale knuckles grip the steering wheel when his free hand comes back to steady himself, and you can tell heâs grounding himself in motion because stopping would mean feeling.
Itâs hard not to stare, even if he's doing something like brushing.
Itâs harder not to ache.
Because the whole time heâs brushing his teeth out the driverâs side window of his car like some feral raccoon, all you can think about is how familiar this isâhow many versions of this exact moment live in your head. Tim brushing his teeth at your sink at two in the morning. Tim rinsing his mouth and leaning over to steal a kiss that tastes like mint and coffee and him. Tim doing mundane things in your orbit like thatâs where heâs always belonged.
You dig your nails lightly into your palm, trying to stay present, trying not to drown in the weight of what you lost and what you never really let yourself keep.
He spits out the window, sharp and practiced, then reaches for a water bottle from the cup holder, cracking the seal with his teeth. The sound is loud in the quiet car. He takes a mouthful, tips his head back, throat working as he gargles, eyes screwed shut like heâs holding something back that isnât just nausea.
Your chest tightens.
Because thisâthis is the part you never knew how to explain to him. How loving Tim was never about grand gestures or dramatic heartbreak. It was this constant, low-level strain of being too aware of him. Of every breath he took, every sacrifice he made without complaint. Knowing that every small ask from you was another weight on an already overloaded system.
He spits again, wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, then closes the window, caps the bottle and exhales slowly, shoulders finally dropping an inch.
You realize youâve been holding your breath.
It was hard the whole time, you thinkânot just now, not just after you found out. It was hard when he showed up tired but smiling. Hard when he apologized for things that werenât his fault. Hard when he tried to be everything, all at once, and still looked at you like you were the one thing he couldnât afford to lose.
Loving Tim felt like standing too close to a live wireâwarm, electric, intoxicatingâand knowing that one wrong move could burn you both.
Tim leans back into his seat, blinking a few times, eyes glassy but focused now. He sets the toothbrush aside into the grocery bag, hands lingering there for a second longer than necessary, like heâs stalling.
You donât say anything.
Because if you do, you might admit that even nowâafter watching him spit toothpaste into the Gotham night, watching him exist inches from youâyou still want to choose him.
And youâre terrified of what that says about you.
ââŠIâll be whatever you want me to be,â Tim says quietly, the words slipping out like a confession heâs been holding between his teeth all night. His voice is rough around the edges now, scraped thin. âGodsâI just canât do friends.â
The car feels smaller suddenly. Too warm. Too close. You look at him and itâs unbearable how much of him there is to look atâhis eyes still glassy from nausea and something worse, his lips a little pinker than usual, lashes clumped just slightly from rain. All the familiar details stack up in your chest until it aches.
âYouâŠâ You swallow. âI canât ask you to be what I want.â The truth presses at you from all sides, heavy and immovable. âI wanted you to be my⊠everything. You know how selfish that sounds? You canât handle that.â
âYou donât get to decide that,â Tim says immediately.
There it is. That stubborn, immovable core of him. The part that never learned how to back down when something mattered to him.
âI do,â you huff, a small, tired smile tugging at your mouth despite yourself, because heâs still the sameâstill arguing even while heâs trying to give you everything. âI want you by my side twenty-four seven. I want you to only think about me. I want you to not even look at anyone else.â You let out a breath thatâs half laugh, half plea. âDonât you hear how crazy I sound?â
Tim hears it. He hears all of it.
And instead of recoiling, a slow smile starts to bloom on his face, soft and reverent, like heâs just been handed something holy. He shifts fully toward you, body turning perpendicular in the driverâs seat, cheek pressing into the cushion as if he wants to stay right here forever. His eyes donât leave your face.
âGods, I love you,â he murmurs. âThey sent you just for me, huh?â
âYouâre insane,â you hiss, heat flooding you all at once, down your spine and into your fingertips, because itâs been so long since heâs said that word like it means salvation instead of danger.
âYouâre perfect,â Tim says, voice dropping, gentler now. âYouâre too in love with me to see how fucking crazy I am too. Wowâyouâre perfect.â
Your breath catches. You look back at him and watch the way his pupils widen just a fraction, the way his gaze drags over you like heâs memorizing something heâs afraid heâll lose again. When he speaks, itâs quieter than itâs been all night, stripped of humor, stripped of bravado.
âI know Iâm not good for you,â he says. âI want you to choose me anyway.â
Your mouth opens.
Closes.
Opens again.
âIâI canât,â you say, the words barely holding together. Saying them feels like pressing on a bruise youâve been protecting for months.
âYou have,â Tim answers, gently now. Not accusing. Just certain.
âI donât want to,â you whisper.
âYou have,â he repeats, softer still, like heâs not trying to convince youâlike heâs just stating a fact youâve both been circling all night.
The car hums around you, engine ticking as it cools, heater blowing steadily, Gotham quiet outside in a way it rarely is. Two people alone in a parked car, suspended in a moment that feels less like a choice and more like gravity.
And the worst part isâyou donât know when you started leaning toward him.
The space between you collapses quietly.
Not all at onceâno rush, no collisionâbut the slow, inevitable pull of two people who have already crossed this line a hundred times in their heads. Tim leans in first, tentative in a way that feels almost reverent, like heâs afraid sudden movement might break the moment. His hand comes up, hovering near your jaw, hesitating there like heâs still giving you time to pull away.
You donât.
When his thumb finally brushes your cheek, itâs barely there, a test more than a touch. Warm. Steady. Real. The contact sends something sharp and familiar through your chest, and before you can talk yourself out of it, you tilt your head up just enough for him to close the last inch.
The press is soft at first. Careful. Like heâs relearning you.
Timâs lips press to yours with a gentleness that hurts, the kind that carries memory with itâevery late night, every almost, every time he wanted this and didnât let himself reach for it.
You feel him exhale against you, shaky and quiet, like heâs been holding that breath for months.
He has.
Then you kiss him back.
And thatâs all it takes.
The sound he makes is small and involuntary, a broken little breath that slips out as his hand cups your face properly now, thumb resting under your cheekbone like it belongs there. The kiss deepens, still unhurried but surer, his mouth moving against yours like heâs afraid to stop once heâs started.
Your fingers find his jacket without thinking, bunching the fabric at his chest. He leans into it immediately, body turning further toward you, shoulder pressing into the seat. The world outside the windows fadesâthe rain, the parking lot, Gotham holding its breathâuntil thereâs only warmth and the quiet rhythm of two people breathing each other in.
Tim kisses you like heâs been missing you.
Like he never stopped.
When he finally pulls back, itâs just enough for his forehead to rest against yours, noses brushing, breaths mingling. His eyes stay closed for a second longer, lashes casting shadows on his cheeks, like heâs grounding himself in the fact that this is happening.
It doesnât stay gentle for long.
Something gives the moment you press back into him, and Tim reacts like heâs been waiting for permission. His hand slides from your cheek to the back of your neck, fingers firm now, anchoring you there as his mouth finds yours again with more intent. The kiss deepens, unhurried but hungry, like heâs making up for every second he forced himself to keep his distance.
His lips move against yours with purpose this timeâstill careful, still restrained, but undeniably heated. You feel it in the way his grip tightens just slightly, thumb pressing into your pulse point as if to reassure himself that youâre still here, that you havenât disappeared again.
You shift closer without realizing it, knees on the center console, moving as careful as you can be. Tim follows the movement instinctively, body leaning back further, shoulder braced against the seat as he leans back for you. The kiss grows warmer, breaths breaking between touches, foreheads brushing when you part for half a second before coming back together again.
Tim freezes for half a heartbeat when his arm hooks under your thighs and lifts you, like even that small escalation startles him. Then instinct takes over. He settles you onto his lap carefully, one hand steady at your hip, the other still at your neck, holding you like something precious heâs afraid to drop.
Your teeth catch his bottom lipâsoft, tentative, almost reverentâand the sound he makes is wrecked. A low groan that vibrates into your mouth, more feeling than noise. Itâs enough to make your pulse spike, enough to make your hands curl into his jacket like you need something solid to stay upright.
He responds without thinking, mouth tilting, pressure increasing just enough to mirror you. When his teeth catch your lip back, itâs not cruelâbut itâs real. Sharp enough to make you gasp, sharp enough that thereâs a brief, metallic tang between you. Copper and heat and something dangerously close to relief.
He pulls back immediately, forehead dropping to yours, breath uneven. One hand tightens at your waist, not to pull you closer, but to keep you there. To stop himself from doing more.
âHey,â Tim murmurs, not a warningâmore like a check-in, like heâs grounding both of you at once.
Your noses brush when you breathe. Your hands are still fisted in his jacket. His thumb traces a slow, soothing line along your side, undoing the bite even as his eyes stay locked on your mouth like itâs gravity itself.
The kiss that follows is slower, deeper, restrained by sheer force of will. All warmth and pressure and promise, none of it rushing anywhere. Your knees are tangled, hearts loud enough to drown out the cityâboth of you painfully aware that this could tip into something unstoppable if either of you lets go.
And neither of you does.
The realization makes his restraint crackâit doesn't shatter, but splinters.
Timâs hand tightens at your waist, fingers digging in like he needs the pressure to stay present, to keep from tipping completely. The next kiss turns rougher in rhythm rather than contentâmore insistence, more heat. He kisses you like heâs been starving politely and just lost his manners. No finesse now, just want, mouth pressing harder, chasing yours when you try to pull back for air.
Your hands slide up into his hair, tugging without thinking, and the sound he makes is sharpâhalf breath, half warning. His grip shifts, one arm bracing you fully against him now, anchoring you there like heâs afraid youâll disappear if he loosens even a little.
Tim kisses you again, deeper, teeth catching your lipânot enough to hurt this time, but enough to remind you he could. Enough to make your stomach flip and a whine leave your mouth. His breathing is uneven against you, chest rising fast beneath you, heart thudding like itâs trying to escape.
For a moment itâs messyâforeheads knocking, breaths stealing, the car creaking faintly as he adjusts the driver's seat. His thumb presses into your hip, grounding, claiming, stopping himself.
Then he breaks the kiss abruptly, breath ragged, forehead dropping to your shoulder.
âFuck,â he exhales, voice wrecked, like the word is torn out of him. His grip doesnât loosen. If anything, he holds you tighter, hands moving to work the buttons of your coat open.
You can feel it in the way heâs shakingânot with fear. With effort.
The kind it takes to stop.
Timâs breath keeps stuttering against your neck, the kind that canât decide if it wants to steady or fall apart completely. He doesnât let go. Instead, he shifts, pressing you more securely against him, like gravity itself is insisting you stay right there. The car feels too small for the way everything in him is brimming overâfogged windows, the low hum of the engine still warm beneath you, the rain ticking faintly outside like itâs counting time neither of you are keeping.
Tim leans back in, slower this time but heavier, like the weight of it finally landed. His mouth finds your neck, not frantic now but insistent, deliberate. Every kiss feels like a choice heâs making again and again. His hands stay where they areâone firm at your waist, one steady at your hipâlike heâs drawing hard lines around what he wonât cross, even as everything else tilts.
You feel the tension in him through every point of contact. The way his shoulders stay tight. The way Timâs jaw clenches when you press closer on him. When your fingers curl into the fabric of his jacket, he lets out a sound thatâs barely there, swallowed before it can become anything dangerous.
Tim breaks a kiss on your collarbone, moving to rest his forehead resting against yours now. His nose brushes your cheek when he exhales, warm and shaky. You can feel his pulse under your hands, fast and unguarded, like he forgot how to hide it with you.
For a second, neither of you moves.
Itâs not restraint born of distanceâitâs restraint born of knowing exactly how badly this could spiral if either of you gave an inch more. His thumb presses once at your side, grounding, almost apologetic.
Then he pulls you into one last kiss, slower, deeper, less rough but heavier in meaningâlike punctuation instead of a sentence. When he finally lets you go, itâs only by a breath, hands still bracketing you, eyes dark and searching, like heâs memorizing the moment in case itâs taken from him again.
He doesnât say anything.
He doesnât have to.
The silence between you is loud with everything you both know now.
âGet in the back.â Tim mumbles, âMmâŠgonna give you head.â
You chuckle at that, running a hand through his hair just to watch the way goosebumps form on his neck, feel the way his breath stutters against your lips, âGonna give your girlfriend head?â
âYeah.â Tim mumbles against your skin, âMmâŠmy girlfriend.â
For once in this past yearâyou're exactly where you want to be. And you don't think Timâs ever going to let you leave again.
author is too tired to add the tag-list rn I'ma do it tmrw. tagging my fav Tim Drake stan tho: @moonologyy
CHARACTERS: first years
summary: your underclassmen has a crush on you (you're a second year cause you got trasported by the magic mirror a year earlier)
I got inspiration to make this fic when i saw Ate Cherry!! post her headcanons on tiktok<33 AJAHDIWHIWHEIAWHEAWI I KEPT GIGGLING I TELL YOU!
Just how will the boys act when they catch a crush on NRC's magicless model student. One who has gained the respect of their peers, seniors, and professors, someone who worked to earn a place at the school despite being transferred involuntarily. The most reliable and welcoming prefect of the school got their heart skipping a beat, what are they like when they're with the most esteemed prefect?
Ace Trappola
He would do anything in his power to try spend time with you (annoy you lovingly), after all he doesn't get much of your time being a year below you and all.
Asks about you a lot, especially asks Jamil whom you share a class with, "Hey Jamil-senpai, we got a buncha sweets from the unbirthday party earlier, want some? No? Then give this to the prefect for me".
He's not slick, he asks which one you liked best so he can bring some more next time, he fills the pastry boxes to the brim and says it's for 'Grim too'.
Suddenly he wants to show off all his card tricks, stopping you randomly in the hall asking you to pick a card.
If he see's you in the basketball court to watch a game of his, he'll either show off or be distracted by you, most of the time it's both
His ego will be 100% crushed if you treat him like a kid, will copy trey and riddle's action to seem more mature.
Making you laugh at his jokes make him so giddy and want to squeal, kick his feet, and twirl his hair like a girl who sees her favorite anime character on screen.
Get's cocky when you praise him
Somewhat unnerved when you see past his unserious facade and see right through him
He definitely looks at Magicam posts about couples to cringe at, only to find himself taking pictures of the both of you and flexing on Deuce
"Who's the luckiest person rn?"
"You're not even dating?"
"Shut up and just be jealous!"
"Of what? You're not dating??"
You hear Riddle's scolds in the hallway, the sight of Ace and Grim fill you with dread, what on earth did they do now? Questions later you told yourself before inserting in their situation. After redirecting Riddle's attention to another responsibility you told him you'd take care of the troublemakers in his stead, despite his protests he'd calmed down and walked off to find professor Crewel to help move papers.
"Mrah! Hench-human!" Grim climbed on your leg to sit himself on your shoulders, head resting against yours as he sighed in relief, "Man I seriously owe you one, walking around with Riddle's heavy collar is a problem I don't want to deal with" he chuckled scratching his neck, you sighed, stepping closer towards him"If you feel so indebted to me then do me a favor and stay out of trouble" fixing his uniform by buttoning up his undershirt and straightening his tie. He held his breath, your shampoo smelled so good, your fingers ghosting on his neck felt heavenly, he could ignore Grim as long as you were close to him. SEVENS GET AHOLD OF YOURSELF YOU SIMP, he yelled at his conscience.
You stepped back and held Grim in your arms, "Yeah, thanks... EHEM! I have a game next Saturday if you wanna watch", he held his head high trying to avoid eye contact as well as the embarrassment of his question. "Don't bother [---], he'll probably lose anyways" Grim yawned, "That's a lot of talk! Sorry but I don't take criticisim from someone who cant even hold a basketball" You patted Grim's head to refrain him from getting in another fight, "I'll be there" you accepted smiling at him softly before heading to your next class, Ace walked to his next lesson with the most satisfied grin, already planning his training so that he wouldn't embarrass himself during the game.
Deuce Spade
He admired your dedication to your studies and hobbies but most importantly your model student vibe.
He finds himself wanting to do better, so that he could feel he's the same level as you and worthy of your attention. (awwe T-T )
He's so honest and nervous with you, Ace gets secondhand embarrassment about the things that comes out his mouth.
"You were so sick today! I mean not sick as in sick, pretty- I mean yeah you look p-pretty good, great! You look great,a-and the potion you made earlier was so cool!" "That was hard to watch, don't mind him he's always weird"
Thankfully you pay no mind to his nervousness, which helps him get more comfortable around you, give him time, he'll start talking casually after a while.
He loves it when you rely on him, need an extra pencil? He's got 12 backups, Need to move stuff around Ramshackle? He's there to help as soon as you told him you were too busy to hang out. He opens doors, jars, stubborn wrappers, everything.
Deuce also texts Ace about you, the difference is that he sends messages of him overthinking his interactions with you.
"Hey do you think what I did earlier was too much?"
"Why are you texting me when I sleep 5 footsteps away from you"
"I think I came off a bit weird..."
"OH MY SEVENS, ALL YOU SAID WAS THANK YOU, SHUT UP"
If you ever show up to a track event, he runs even faster, which straight up looks like sonic, and he gets all bashful if you compliment him a bunch afterwards.
Your mood affects him too, if you're happy it makes him happy, if Ace did something that pissed you off, suddenly he's pissed at Ace too. And when you're sad he tries his best cheering you up, but he does it so awkwardly you end up laughing, mission failed successfully?
He gets all giddy when you notice his efforts to be better and talks about you to his mom
Deuce had another history exam coming up, usually he'd ask help from Trey or Riddle, unfortunately both tutors had important things to attend to leaving him to his lonesome. Deciding to suck it up and study by himself, he got confused on a few parts, yes, but it was self doubt that made him struggle. 30 minutes in is session he was ready to ask for help from anyone, hell, even Azul if he had to.
"Sorry did you wait long?" his eyes widened, speechless as you placed study materials of your own while sitting beside him. "Prefect, what're you doing here?" "Trey asked me if I could help you out, you have history tomorrow yes?" flipping through his notes and references eyes focused on the text. A strand of your hair falling to your face, you tucked it behind your ear, pen still in hand, while the other was scanning his flashcards. The way the light hit your face made you look serene, the comforting scent of your perfume, the slight furrow on your eyebrows, and the fact that you were helping made the scene all the more angelic. He felt his mouth go dry and face flush as he told himself to BE NORMAL!
"350 years?" "No, 530" the boy burried his face in his palms feeling most dissapointed at himself, he wanted to impress you and do well and all he's done so far is mess everything up, as he wallowed in his despair he felt a warm hand rub his back "You don't have to pretend to know everything, if you're confused about my discussion, ask me instead of nodding along, it's ok", he didn't believe that you were magicless at all, especially since you somehow always lifted the invisble weights on his shoulders. "Was I that obvious?" peeking at you from his palms, you nodded laughing softly, after a few more hours, with your guidance and constant encouragement, he answered your mock test perfectly and got all your oral questions right. He'd been tutored before but never once had he felt so happy and reassured the entire time, "I just want to say thank you for your time, I really learned from you, I don't jus feel like I'll do well, I know it!" The other students turned from their chairs and shushed him, feeling ashamed he whispered apologies to those he distrcted.
Jack Howl
Get's to know you through the heartslabyul duo, lowk loves that you have a moral compass and sense of justice, trusts you a lot because of it.
Asks Ruggie for your preferences once and now he has Ruggie AND Leona teasing him for liking you.
"Oho? Is the pup finally turning into a big boy?"
"Shyeheheehee, aww leave the loverboy alone he can't help it!"
"If you didn't want to tell me just don't"
His muscles WILL involuntarily flex if you hold onto his arm, you'd think it's cause he wants to show off his HARD work, but no, he's just a bit nervous
You often catch him following your example and doesn't notice until you point it out, he gets slightly embarrassed
Also a very acts of service guy and quality time kind of guy, he especially loves eating with you while you talk about anything at all as he passes you juice he poured out a can for you, totally cause you're his respected upperclassman nothing more nothing less.
DENIAL, his tsundere heart will try and pass his feelings off as admiration and 'looking up to you' but deep down he knows he likes you more than that but refuses to acknowlege it.
He finally gives into his feelings once he realizes that fighting it off and ignoring it won't make him like you less or make his feelings for you go away
When he gets shy but obviously happy he had those cute downward smiles ( Ë¶Ë ÂłË)âĄ
He will always be on his best anything when you're around and tries to act more mature than usual even if he wants to participate in the Adeuce's games and competitions.
Heart goes all fuzzy when you help him improve himself
"Awwe you didn't have to help me out, I could have carried these by myself" teasing the poor boy with hand to your chest as he carried a sack of soil walking beside you, "It's nothing...No offense, but this is the same size as you, plus it's a hassle going back and forth from the shed" you sighed in defeat as you look down at your arms carrying stacks of little clay pots and a packet inside one that contained seeds. "What're you going to make with this stuff anyways?" his gruff voice softening, "Ingredients for Professor Crewel's class, he needs more of this stuff for a first year lesson next week" his ears perked up, curious "Wonder what were making..." he hummed "That's gonna be a surprise, I can't keep giving you hints for all your lessons, people might think I favor you more than I already do"
The dramatic statement caused him to stop in his tracks, what did you just say? Favor? HIM?! He shook his head like a dog shaking off water and caught up to you, "What do you mean byâ" "Oh! There's a lot of space here!" You crouched on the unoccupied spot spacing the pots you placed on the floor as Jack opened the sack and helped plant ingredients. As his gloved hands patted the soil his eyes wandered, maybe it was the blooming plants around you or the pollen that blurred the rest of his vision and made you the only thing he could see in extreme detail, your soft lips as you murmured instructions, the slight glint in your eyes when you realize your using the proper method in this little gardening project, whatever it was he couldn't look away.
The scene was quite domestic in his perspective and he didn't want to ruin this moment. While watering the seeds you had asked why he seemed so knowlegeable about plants, which led to a 2 hour tail wagging conversation about the succulent plants he had nurtured and researched about, and maybe even inviting you to plant one with him on your free time since your interested?
Epel Felmier
Most likely met you through Rook talking about the beauty of your resilience
He tries to act more "manly" around you, he genuinely hates it when you find him cute, and though he's learns from Rook and Vil to see it as a strength he still has trouble getting used to it. When you make him feel reassured and more comfortable with that side of himself, and remind him it doesn't make him less of a man inevitably made him fall hard
He makes apple carvigs of things you like or mentioned you're interested in
You once helped him wipe off his smudged makeup, now he runs to you for makeup tips instead of Vil, whether your good at makeup or not he'd rather learn makeup with you/from you, cause apparently Vil's instructions are too long
Will come to Ramshackle to gorge on food Vil banned him from eating "I can't take nother day of that bland crap! So what if they got weird chemicals on em? Better than unseasoned chicken I tell ya!"
He'll let his accent fly loose, no need to act so prim and proper when he can be himself with you
If you compliment one of his cardigans he WILL give one to you and prolly brag to ace how you're wearing one of his clothes
Will show off his flight skills when you're out on the field or at a spelldrive match
When you try to carry a lot of things he'll want to help, mostly cause he wants to show off how stronger he's gotten
Wants to have your opinion when he tries wearing clothes that aren't his usual style
"Honestly, why not ask Vil for help?" you sighed patting his face with tissue to pick up oils, dirt, and sweat off his fair complexion "He once took an hour explaining proper cleaning techniques on 7 different brushes that looked all the same!" "That just means he's knowlegeable, you should take advantage of that and use it to improve" He huffed knowing you were right but was still too stubborn to listen, you chuckled at his very visible frustration as you lightly reapplied his makeup.
"But I get what you mean, he can be a bit overwhelming" "RIGHT?!" his eyes flew open, holding your wrist as his face held agreement with a touch of annoyance. You stared at him in surprise, realizing his hold on you and his sudden closeness, he got to see your features up close like he's never before. Your eyes and beautiful hue it had, your nose and forehead that gave him cuteness aggression, and the slight gape on your lips that made him want to close the gap. His face spread red all the way to his neck and ears in embarrassment once he heard your laughter letting his grip on you go and creating more distance.
"Oh you poor thing! I'll be sure to ask Vil to go easy on you the next I see him" "...P-please do" He shut his eyes again internally kicking himself for such a reckless act. You two continued to laugh and chat while you gently patted product on his skin. "Ah~ Young love! Such a beautiful act of devotion, and to think Monsieur Pomette would develop such feelings for the Trickster! Youth is truly the prime of romance, truly fantastique!" Rook clutched his chest as Vil creased his brow, "How crude, since he has so much time to criticize my methods of teaching then I shall have a 2 hour session of it's importance" he glared at the first year's back.
Sebek Zigvolt
Beats Jack in the denial stage, this guy is not accpeting it and gaslights himself trying to convince himself you're just another sophmore he respects, until it drives him stir crazy
He'll find himself contradicting himself though, and gets flustered when Ace teases him about it "Nonsense! This is clearly respect to it's highest form! I should have known someone like you would not understand!" "Yeah whatever makes you feel better man, I've got other stuff to do than argue with a brick wall"
He really appreciates your patience and gentle tone when you speak with him, he gets a little quieter to hear you better
Very happy if you recognize his liege's greatness with him too
Will seek you out if he hears people disrespect your name
You help him see the beauty of human nature and he'll never notice how he slowly starts to drop the nickname of human when talking to you
HUMAN WHAT HAVE YOU DONE TO HIM, WHY IS HE SUDDENLY EXPECTANTLY AWAITING YOUR HAND WRITTEN LETTERS? He told you once that he preferred traditional forms of communication and you noticing small details about him made his face fume, but not in anger
Lilia will nudge him into the right direction to understand his feelings, the old bat enjoys youthful romance it seems
It will take him a while to accept his feelings for you but once he does, he is not quiet about it
Will court you by fae standards but you don't really understand so you accept his gifts thinking it's out of platonic kindness which frustrates him to no end but he ends up frozen every time he tries to voice out his feelings in preson.
"[---]! YOU LEFT YOUR NOTEBOOK WITH ME WHEN YOU WHERE EXPLAINING HUMAN SLANG TERMS"
Oh right I forgot lol
"THIS IS NO LAUGHING MATTER! ONE MUST BE MINDFUL OF THEIR BELONGINGS"
Even through the screen I can hear you đ
"Why are you crying?!"
No sebek I'm not actually crying, it's just an expression đ
"Why must humans find new ways to complicate things"
So how did talking to Lilia go? Can you finally understand him?
"Absolutely! Lilia even praised my use of terms, I lowkey killed him out there!"
You cackled in your room startling Grim but he brushed it off too tired to argue with you and went back to sleep. You turn to your side tapping on your keyboard, you genuinely hope he doesn't use these terms in person or else you wouldn't be able to hold it in and neither can Ace and the rest of the group.
Good on you for learning so quickly :))
"I am beyond grateful for your guidance, therefore I must return your notebook at once!"
Sebek the sun's already setting just give it back tomorrow morning
There was no doubt about it, he'd made up his mind and he's sticking to it. Upon his arrival he left the notebook with you thanking him as he headed back to his dorm. "Wait! won't you stay for a little while?" he halted, his heart screamed at him to indulge in your presence but his mind said otherwise "I cannot stay here longer than I already have, our dormitory has curfews I must oblige by, as they are my liege's instruction!" he replied stil walking facing away from you, knowing he'd be unable to stop himself had he turned around and followed your dissapointed tone. Your lips turned downwards, as you look at him with those longing eyes he can't stop glaring back at, the wind softly blowing your hair as if urging him to tuck it behind your ear. GOODNESS HOW COULD I THINK OF SUCH THINGS! He scolded, quickening his pace towards the hall of mirrors as his ears and face painted red.
Oh, the poor girl from another world. Magicless, helpless, constantly dragged into battles against Overblots that should have erased you on sight.
No one warned them that her feminine energy is⊠quite literally otherworldly. Turns out, every monster is punchable if you try hard enough.
Riddle
Dark clouds, the ground split open in several parts of the rose garden; the Unbirthday Party that Riddle so proudly proclaims with all its rigid, structural rules is an absolute disaster.
Trey is trying to reason with a completely deranged Riddle, who is swinging spears left and right; Ace and Deuce are only creating more chaos to distract him, too. Cater, on the other hand...
âOkay, okay, stay under the table and donât move, alright, cutie?â
He leaves you under a table that has somehow magically remained intact, with its spotless white tablecloth still draped over it⊠as if youâre a tiny puppy. A wet, lost, terrified little puppy.
Oh hell nah
There is no poor, helpless, defenseless human girl without magic here. Well⊠without magic, yes. But defenseless? Never.
You scan the wreckage with your blood boiling.
Feral survival mode: activated
Aside from the table they so badly want you to hide under, everything is destroyed; the teacups are shattered; the elegant chairs are broken into multiple pieces, and several of them have splinters sharp enough to look useful.
One splintered piece of a backrest has a very suspiciously bat-like shape.
Perfect!
And while Riddle keeps going with his monologue, âOFF WITH YOUR HEAD!â here, and âI AM THE RULES!â there, you slip away like a sneaky little rat until you end up right behind him.
Crack
Solid wood connects with his skull⊠and he collapses like a puppet with its strings cut, completely graceless, all thanks to your immaculate strike with that improvised bat.
The Overblot ink dissolves, the monster disappears, and Riddle is left unconscious on the ground.
ââŠI didnât kill him, right?â
Well⊠letâs hope not, sweetheart.
Heâll probably wake up with a lump the size of an egg and no memory whatsoever⊠though you absolutely are going to remind him of everything he made you suffer through these past few days. And if he tries it again...
Thatâs a paddling
Leona
Savanaclaw has become a death trap, sand flying everywhere, making it impossible to see and even harder to breathe.
It has turned even drier, even more suffocating, and with the monster at Leonaâs back striking and roaring, everything trembles and breaks every millisecond.
Round two, sweetheart
Stopping your breathing seems like the most sensible option for now, considering youâre walking toward an Overblot with a lion-like monster behind him, whose ink creates hyenas and whose magic could turn you into golden dust.
The female survival instinct does not actually contain much survival, honestly.
Plenty of adrenaline, yes. Plenty of anger, too⊠but youâre not going for his back. Youâre approaching from the side, in plain sight.
If plain sight can even count while Leona is unleashing a full sandstorm.
Well⊠oxygen is temporary.
âPathetic. A tiny magicless herbivore, standing in my wayâŠâ
If thereâs one thing youâve learned from watching so many shows and movies, itâs that you never let the villain finish their monologue nor their transformation.
In this case, his monologue.
Between laughter and degrading comments⊠direct hit to the nose.
Maybe you break his cartilage, maybe you make him bleed, maybe you leave a bruise...maybe his nose ends up slightly crooked.
And maybe a couple of your knuckles break from the impact, too.
âI want ice, NOW!â you snap, shaking your hand like a maraca while completely ignoring the way Leona falls backward.
The ice arrives, the student clearly thinking itâs for his housewarden, but you snatch the frozen bag away and press it to your knuckles, abandoning the great lion on the floor.
The mighty king of the savanna⊠sprawled out on the sand.
Ruggie is on the ground beside him, lifting his head so the blood doesnât make him choke, but he canât stop laughing. He is not going to let him live this down from now on.
Leona probably wonât apologize when he wakes up⊠but he does put you on the same level of respect as the lionesses of Sunset Savanna.
Better to be safe and keep his distance than risk getting his nose broken again.
Azul
You should have seen it coming...
An octopus mage losing his composure, hysterical, with eight slippery tentacles moving everywhereâŠThe perfect hentai scenario, and you don't want to be the tragic heroine of that genre.
But there you are, grabbed around the waist by one of those tentacles and lifted who knows how much off the ground.
In Azulâs twisted mind, you are not a threat. Just a simple, helpless land-dwelling human. A perfect little thing for his collection.
Well⊠he can tell that to your teeth.
The slimy, salty, suction-cupped appendage gets caught between your two rows of teeth, your canines sinking deeper than the rest of your pearly whites.
Itâs like heâs being bitten by a mangy dog.
It is a wild, vicious bite, your head jerking as you try to tear even more of that awful rubbery texture apart.
Donât even get me started on the coating of slime and squid ink. Gross, gross, disgusting. Blegh
And with a high-pitched shriek, Azul releases the tentacle, flailing it through the air. It writhes and curls into itself, trying to seek comfort in its ownerâs hands.
The fall to the floor is not glorious, but at least you donât break anything. What you do need to do is spit out whatever you managed to tear from that tentacle⊠and brush your teeth a thousand times to get that taste out of your mouth.
Rotten sushi
Floyd is smacking the floor with his hand, completely falling apart with laughter. Jade is already plotting the coming days and exactly how he is not going to let a single second pass without bothering his boss about this.
Meanwhile⊠Azul is still holding the tentacle in his hands, staring at it with tears in his eyes, soothing the wound with his palm.
You can hear sobs when he turns his back, choosing to cry with the last scrap of dignity he has left where no one can see his face.
For a loooong while, they stop serving takoyaki or anything with octopus at Mostro. The mere idea of seeing you eat seafood makes his skin crawl.
He still has teeth marks⊠a perfect souvenir
Jamil
Jamilâs Overblot, that serpentine figure like a naga, dark and dripping with ink and years of suppressed resentment. His snakes writhe from side to side, like Medusa, and his eyes are filled with cold, calculated fury.
He could easily pass as a mythological creature from Ancient Greece.
If not for the massive ego and more specifically targeted resentment⊠but hey, villains never really go after the people they should.
That is what makes you angriest.
Not the fact that Kalim is crying while dodging attack after attack, or the fact that Grim is clawing at one of Jamilâs snakes with his little paws.
No, itâs the fact that this boy is being a complete dumbass, blinded by his pent-up rage, incapable of recognizing his own weak points.
A couple of snakes spot you as an easy target, because obviously the only woman in the whole dorm has to be the partyâs weakness.
Intention: unknown. You donât want to find out, either.
With some effort, you grab them with your bare hands, each head in each fist, and pull, as if youâre yanking on a rope with treasure at the other end.
In this case, you are dragging Jamil directly toward you.
He stumbles, thrown off-balance, completely shocked by your brute strength and by the fact that you somehow managed to capture two of his snakes.
That surprise is what costs him when your knee slams into the area beneath his sternum.
Direct hit to the stomach and part of the lungs⊠letâs hope you donât leave bruises on his organs.
The air bursts out of his mouth, and he folds in half, curling pathetically in on himself and wheezing with thin strands of saliva clinging to his lips.
You are not in the mood to watch him vomit all over Scarabiaâs beautiful marble⊠but you do hear his tiny groans and sobs.
A kick to the balls probably would have hurt less.
âIronic that youâre more scared of insects than snakesâ
Heâs already on the floor, donât humiliate him further
The best apology Jamil can think of is leaving you cups of coffee. Good coffee, coffee from Silk City, not the burnt sludge from the cafeteria or Ramshackle. A cup always waits for you before class and after a veeeeeery long day.
And every time, he leaves it near you, but that doesn't mean he stays close. He steps back a few paces, covering his stomachâŠjust in case.
Vil
The stage is in ruins, the screens shattered⊠the perfect setting for the most beautiful man in the world, Vil Schoenheit, to look this ruined.
Ruined⊠but beautiful and terrifying in equal measure. Golden radiance and black rot, perfection and poison; the combination of gold, violet, and black suits him like it was made for him.
Rook is trying to reason with him, leaving the poetry for another moment⊠which means everything is truly going to hell.
Epel and the others are trying not to breathe in too much of the poison slowly contaminating the air.
And there you are⊠a tiny little thing, defenseless, probably the most ordinary and ugly thing on the stage by Vilâs current standards.
âI WILL BE THE MOST BEAUTIFUL!â
The most logical thing to do is make him uglier.
And there you go, climbing him like a monkey scaling a tree, pulling yourself up from the hems of his refined dress or robe or whatever the hell his Overblot version has put him in, while he tries to smack you away like an insect.
More than once, he scratches you with his long nails, but nothing stops your path toward his golden hair.
âGET OFF ME⊠YOU IRRITATING INSECT!â
Your hands grab a fistful of his strands⊠and pull.
Those classic hair-pulling yanks from women fighting, grabbing each other by the scalp and painfully ripping at the roots
And his scream is so high-pitched that it echoes through the entire coliseum, piercing and completely undignified. How dare someone like you, with those filthy hands, touch his immaculate hair?
His monster shrieks with him, mimicking his twists and his frantic attempts to throw you off his shoulders.
If your life werenât currently at risk, Epel would probably take out his phone and start recording the whole thing. Itâs too ironic
The great Vil, defeated because someone pulled his hair.
On the stage floor, ink, makeup, and sweat decorate the ground⊠and a few golden-violet strands are floating through the air.
His hair can recover with enough treatment; his ego, on the other hand, is going to take a little longer.
Idia
STYX is about to collapse if this keeps going.
The screens are falling to the floor, panels are breaking apart, and Idiaâs Overblot ink is consuming everything in its path. And poor Ortho is there like a puppet of his brotherâs despair.
Ortho, the gentlest humanoid you have ever known, is now a lifeless shell, mechanical and precise enough to kill.
Run, run, and hide. Run, hide, and survive; that is what your subconscious is screaming at you. Let the others deal with fighting that robotic figure Idia has become.
You focus on his little brother while you keep running.
âPlease do not resist. My big brother says you are not to be hurtâ
How thoughtful
âBut I must immobilize you for your own safety,â he says, cannons ready.
Well, I take that back
âIâm sorry, Orthoâ
âWhy?â he asks, tilting his head, unable to understand why a simple, helpless human is apologizing to an android.
With one elbow strike, you hit his sensory matrix, destabilizing him, and then you slam into the left side of his chassis, right where there is a small weakness you saw Idia repair a few days ago.
Sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry
Hurting little Ortho causes you more psychological damage than anything else, but it is absolutely necessary that he be neutralized first.
Because the moment Idia realizes his little brother is out of the game, his attention goes straight to you⊠and to the broken piece of chassis that fell off Ortho.
âWHAT DID YOU DO TO MY BROTHER?! YOU, AN INSIGNIFICANT PERSON, WITHOUT ANYTHââ
Ready. Aim. Throw!
You launch the metal chassis piece like a frisbee. It spins and spins and spins, and it hits the target: his technologically creepy mask.
Clang.
The mask cracks in two, and Idia is thrown backward, falling hard to the floor.
âYour brother is fine⊠though he does need better repairsâ
Ortho is going to be mad at him when they both wake up, and you are probably going to become his favorite.
Respect levels: maxed out
Malleus
Pray for your life if you want to come out of a battle against a dragon unharmed.
So many romantic medieval stories talk about majestic dragons, enormous dragons, fire-breathing dragons, and yet none of them prepared you for having one right in front of you.
Especially because his green fire is infused with magic that the fantasy stories from your world never even bothered to imagine.
Try not to shit yourself while dodging flame after flame, and the occasional piece of debris when you pass under his claws.
Even in his normal form, Malleus is huge⊠but as a dragon, he is completely imposing.
And once again, you find yourself praying to every god you know from your old world and this new one when you stand in front of that obsidian-colored creature.
âARE YOU INSANE?!â
âGET BACK HERE!â
Shouts, so many shouts, and with very good reason. What sane person stands in front of a dragon that is a thousand times their size?
You, apparently
But there is that tiny little worm of hope, believing with absurd faith that Malleus would never hurt you, not even in this form.
His great head lowers until it is only a handâs distance away from you, those enormous green eyes staring directly at you, his hot breath surrounding you completely⊠your heart on the verge of bursting while you pray he does not open his mouth and swallow you whole.
âHi, Tsunotaroâ
His snout opens and closes, smelling you, recognizing you as his friend from late-night walks.
He recognizes you
âPlease⊠donât take this personallyâ
You punch him right on the tip of the snout.
That impact⊠pure and incomprehensible audacity.
HOW DOES IT EVEN OCCUR TO YOU TO PUNCH A DRAGON? DO YOU KNOW HOW MUCH STRENGTH YOU WOULD NEED FOR THAT TO ACTUALLY HURT HIM?!
Well⊠it doesnât hurt him, exactly, but it absolutely makes him stumble from the shock.
The finishing blow is delivered by the others, and the battle ends, making Malleus return to his original form while you stand there with a hand completely reddened from the punch.
Malleus, heir to Briar Valley, will remember this day. He will remember the tiny magicless human with enough nerve to strike him in his dragon form.
âEverything is punchable if you try hard enough.â
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Housewarden!Ace Trappola x Reader (they are in their third year, intended fem! but could be gn)
Warnings!: no use of y/n, pet name (doll), Reader not intended to be Yuu, mainly fluff, suggestive(?), slight mentions of sex, Ace as Housewarden, Reader is deprived of love, could be ooc (Iâve never written him before), English isnât my first language + not proofread.
A/N - I just really like the idea of Ace becoming housewarden and maturing, but still remaining a charming idiot. Itâs kinda short.- Manâs Best Friend Masterlist
-â-//âȘ//-â-
â He's clingy, he's loving
He always initiates â
Your boyfriend, recently appointed Housewarden Trappola, seems to have forgotten how to be a satisfactory boyfriend.
-â-//âȘ//-â-
Ace Trappola is a great many things. Heâs the Heartslabyul problem child no. 1 turned housewarden (albeit he still causes problems). Seemingly best friends with the Prefect and 5 other housewardens. Heâs a part of the NRC basketball team and holds contributions in the SDC. Heâs a talented charmer who, surprisingly, many idolise. But, first and foremost, he is your boyfriend. Your adorable, bratty and very needy boyfriend. Or so he used to be.
âCallinâ and touchingâ
A frustrated sigh leaves your lips as you run a hand through your hair. The two of you started dating at the beginning of your second year, and everything was just amazing. He was clingy, annoyingly so, and not one to shy away from intimacy. ;)
âNow I don't recognize thisâ
But now? Ever since he was appointed housewarden, itâs like something changed within him. Of course at first it was subtle, probably the weight of his new responsibilities smacking some sense into him. However, very slowly he became more and more restrained; it is so frustrating!
âCan I return it?
Get back the version I like
This one's bullshit babyâ
Itâs not like heâs completely distant. He still greets you with kisses and loves to pull you close when youâre sat in the Heartslabyul dorm lounge together. He just takes longer to respond to your texts, and your calendar hasnât looked so empty in ages.
âHe used to be literally obsessed with me
Iâm suddenly the least sought after girl in the landâ
Ultimately the tipping point came during one of Heartslabyulâs unbirthday parties. Ace was at the head of the table. The crown on his head and his housewarden uniform made him look so so delicious. You were sat next to him, having a chat whilst enjoying your tart, when suddenly you're interrupted by some trouble-causing first years. Before you could even turn back to face your beloved boyfriend, he was already out of his seat. SighâŠ
âHe's busy
He's working
He doesn't have time for meâ
Whatâs got into him, honestlyâŠ
He has been so absorbed in his role as housewarden that heâs been completely neglecting you. You! His cute, beautiful and sexy (his words) love!
âMy slutty pajamas
Not tempting him in the leastâ
Even when you invite him over to your room, he just cuddles up to you with that stupidly handsome face, makes out with you and falls straight asleep. Like, pardon??? You could be just in your underwear and he wonât even bat an eye. Like, youâre right here, hello?
âThe joke can be over now
You're so silly babyâ
âAce.â Your tone is serious and your posture rigid as you stand before his roomâs doorframe. Said boyfriend is by his desk, seemingly working on something as he responds with a light hum. It seems he just got out of the shower, evident through his damp hair and makeup-free face. Hot. Closing the door shut behind you, your slippered feet carry you to him. A slight crease formed between your brows at his minimalistic response.
âOh my man on his willpower
Is something I don't under
Something I don't understandâ
Finally noticing your looming figure, Ace spins his chair around, a teasing grin cracking onto his face as he notices the frown on your beautiful face. âSomething wrong, doll?â
âUh, yeah.â Your arms cross over your chest in response. A huff escaping as he pulls you forward by your waist, watching as he nuzzles your torso. Sevens, you wanted to wipe that idiotic grin off his stupidly attractive face. âYou wanna tell me, or are you going to keep wrinkling that pretty face of yours, hmâ?â
You cut him off by pulling him into a kiss. A very messy and very frustrated kiss. A kiss that he satisfyingly smiled into, your desperate action of straddling him practically intoxicating him.
If heâs forgotten how to be a good boyfriend, then it seems youâre just going to have to teach him how to be one.
You, a struggling mage-in-training, tried to summon a majestic beast to escape your cursed fate in the botany stream.
Instead, you got Jade Leechâchaos incarnate, collector of mysterious jars, and disturbingly enthusiastic about plants.
He now lives in your dorm, calls you "Master" with a straight face and might be seducing you via herbal tea.
this is a present for @hyperfixating-rn <3 I'm very late but happy belated birthday!!
You were going to be a great mage. A legendary one. The kind they wrote poems aboutâlong, rhyming ones with unnecessarily dramatic metaphors. You had dreams. Ambitions. A Pinterest board titled "Epic Wizard Core." You practiced basic spells in your room, blew up your mirror once, and were 96% sure your magical aura was purple (which is obviously the most powerful one, everyone knows that).
So imagine your surprise when your entrance exam results came back and you were⊠sorted into the Botany stream.
Botany.
As in, plants.
As in, dirt and roots and sunlight and âcommuning with nature.â
You had never communed with nature. You had once tried to grow a cactusâthe most resilient plant known to humankindâand it had withered in protest within a week. You had named that cactus Spiky. Its death was a tragedy. A murder, some said. By you.
So naturally, you stood there on orientation day, holding your shiny new textbook titled âGreen is the Heartâs Color: Love and Magic in Leavesâ, with the same vibe as someone who had been given a live grenade and told to hug it.
Your fellow classmates looked excited. Eager. Too green, in more ways than one. You watched one of them gently cradle a sproutling like it was a newborn. Another was crying over the âbeautiful potentialâ of transpiration. Meanwhile, you were googling "can you accidentally poison poison ivy."
And then, of course, came your professor. You donât remember much from the orientation speech because you were too busy having a silent breakdown about the phrase "the gentle whisper of chlorophyll." But you do remember one very important thing:
Youâre in so much trouble.
You raised your hand at one point to ask if you were allowed to⊠switch majors. The professor smiled.
A warm, benevolent, lethal smile.
âOh, dear. The plants have chosen you.â
What does that even mean???
You donât know. But the tiny seedling on your desk keeps wiggling like itâs happy to see you. You donât trust it. You name it Vermin and pray it doesnât unionize with the moss on your windowsill.
You are a mage in training. A powerful wizard in the making.
And now you are at war⊠with horticulture.
After a week of trying to bond with leaves like they were long-lost family and nearly getting strangled by a particularly enthusiastic vine, you decided youâd had enough.
You needed a way out.
Not in the dramatic âstorm out of class, set fire to the greenhouse, and flee into the mountainsâ way. (Though it was on the table.)
You needed a loophole. An escape clause. A forbidden back door in the curriculum forged in ancient times by other students who had also accidentally murdered cacti.
So you did what any desperate, dignity-depleted mage-in-training would do.
You found a senior.
Now, seniors in mage school are like cryptids. Powerful. Elusive. Sleep-deprived. And terrifying in the way only people whoâve once accidentally turned themselves into a plant can be. Your chosen senior was sitting under a tree, drinking coffee from a mug that said âI survived Magical Ecology II and all I got was this mug and lifelong trauma.â
You approached, clinging to your textbook like it was a lifeline. âHi. Iâmâuh. Iâm not vibing with the flora.â
They looked up, eyes dark with knowledge and probably caffeine. âBotany stream?â
âAgainst my will.â
A pause. A long, sympathetic sip. Then: âYou have two options.â
Your heart fluttered. Hope! Salvation! Maybeâ
âOne: Fail everything, get held back a year, reapply next cycle. Pray the plants forget your face.â
âI canât afford that. Option two?â
âSummon a familiar so powerful, the faculty has to bump you into a combat-heavy stream for your own safety. And theirs.â
You blinked. âLike. A dragon?â
The senior shrugged. âSure. Or a demon. Or a vengeful raccoon. Anything above âmildly homicidal housecatâ works.â
âAnd then theyâll just⊠change my stream?â
âIf your familiar is terrifying enough, yes. Preferably something with fire. Fire fixes everything. Except greenhouses.â
You nodded slowly, feeling the stirrings of a Planâą. A terrible, beautiful, questionable plan.
"How hard is it to summon a familiar?" you asked.
They smiled, and it was not comforting.
âNot hard. Doing it without summoning something that wants to eat you is the tricky part.â
You thanked them and walked off into the distance, muttering under your breath and already flipping through your grimoires.
You were going to get out of this stream or die trying.
Hopefully neither.
But if a hellbeast had to be involved, wellâŠ
You were prepared to negotiate.
You had one job.
Just one.
Summon a powerful familiar. Save your future career path. Escape the dreaded Botany Stream before you're eaten alive by carnivorous radishes with anger issues and questionable ethics.
Youâd studied forbidden texts. Youâd drawn your summoning circle to perfect mathematical proportions using a protractor, three compasses, and something called âManifestation Oilâ you bought off a sketchy alchemy influencer.
You even lit candles by hand like a peasant. Thatâs how serious this was.
You had one last step: focus your intent. Picture what you wanted. Channel all your magic and will into the ritual. A dragon, perhaps. A fearsome spirit. A beast of legend. Maybe even a war general.
Instead, the unagi you were saving for dinnerâyour actual, literal eelâslid off the table mid-chant and splat landed right in the center of the summoning circle.
The summoning circle hissed.
You had precisely one second to scream âNO, YOU STUPID SLIPPERY FISHââ before the circle detonated.
There was light. Screaming wind. Something smelled vaguely of seaweed and crime.
When your retinas finally stopped sizzling and your ears recovered from their astral slapping, you looked up.
And there he was.
A tall, elegant man standing in the still-smoking circle, dusting off his sleeves like he hadnât just been yanked across the realms by an overcooked eel. His teal hair shimmered like deep water. Heterochromatic eyes. He looked like a minor sea god and a professional tax evader all rolled into one.
He tilted his head. Smiled. âThat was⊠dramatic.â
You stared. Still holding the empty microwave-safe eel tray like a sacrificial relic.
âI was trying to summon a dragon,â you croaked.
âAh,â he said, eyeing the smear of soy sauce in the center of the runes. âThen why the seafood?â
You didnât have an answer. Mostly because you were too busy silently screaming.
âI suppose Iâm what happens when your spell gets rerouted mid-delivery,â he continued, delight practically oozing off him. âFascinating. I'm Jade. Jade Leech.â
You, a mage of great ambition and even greater regret, took a deep breath and said the only thing that made sense.
ââŠAre you allergic to plants?â
Jade Leech, freshly yanked from the dark, swirling depths of somewhere much cooler than here, watched with the amused detachment of a man who had just witnessed his summoner go through all five stages of grief in under forty seconds.
You cursed the gods.
You cursed the stars.
You cursed your entrance exam, your cactus, your birth, and at one pointâyourself in third person.
He said nothing. Simply folded his hands behind his back and watched with the kind of serene interest normally reserved for people observing an exotic animal fling itself against glass.
Eventually, once your vocal cords began to shred from impassioned screaming (and possibly mild sobbing), you whirled toward him, red-eyed and wild-haired, and gestured at him in disbelief.
âAre youââ you wheezed, dragging a sleeve across your face, âperchance a dragon?â
He blinked slowly. His smile widened.
âPerchance?â
âI donât know!â you shouted. âYouâre tall! You appeared in a bunch of smoke! Your hair defies gravity! That could be dragon behavior!â
âHm.â He tapped his chin thoughtfully. âAnd if I say yes?â
You squinted. â...Do you breathe fire?â
âIâm more of a âpoison your tea and watch what happensâ sort of creature,â he replied, pleasantly.
You screamed againâthis time in cosmic betrayalâand stomped your foot so hard the candles trembled.
He made a note of this. You had good stomping technique.
âWell then what are you?!â you demanded.
He shrugged, like this wasnât a magical emergency and more of a casual day.
âA Moray Eel, technically.â
You stared at him. Then at the summoning circle. Then at the empty microwave eel tray still on the floor. Then back at him.
âOh my gods,â you whispered in horror. âThe unagi redirected the target circle. I was summoning a power dragon and the ritual downgraded to âlong sea worm.ââ
He chuckled. âHow dare you.â
âI wanted to cheat the system,â you whispered, falling to your knees like a tragic protagonist. âAnd the gods sent me seafood.â
âIâm standing right here, you know.â
You threw yourself to the ground and started sobbing into the floor.
Jadeâs smile grew wider. He might stay. This was already more entertaining than anything back home.
And honestly, watching you spiral was kind of charming.
Jade made tea.
You werenât entirely sure how or when. One moment, you were crumpled on the floor, dramatically mourning your dreams of becoming a cool elemental mage with a dragon familiar. The next, he was handing you a dainty teacup on a saucer you definitely didnât own.
There was a slice of lemon in it. The mug was warm. You were terrified.
ââŠDid you summon this tea set too?â you asked, eyeing the porcelain like it was going to explode.
âNo,â he said pleasantly. âIt was in your cupboard.â
âNo, it wasnât.â
He smiled wider. âWas it not?â
You stared at him. He stared back, sipping his tea with the calm of someone who knew exactly where every spoon in your home was and wouldnât hesitate to replace them with slightly longer spoons just to gaslight you.
You took a sip of the tea to assert dominance. It was delicious. You hated that it was delicious.
He watched you, unblinking. âSo. Why the desperate summoning?â
You groaned, slouching like the tea had robbed you of whatever spine you had left. âI got sorted into the botany stream.â
There was a silence. You sipped your tea again to drown in the shame.
Then his eyes sparkled.
You felt it. Like a shift in the atmosphere. Like the moment before a lightning strike. Like the second someone said, âTrust me,â and you woke up four hours later in a tree, covered in glitter and mild regret.
âOh,â he said, delighted. âBotany.â
âNo,â you said immediately. âDonât do that. Donât say it like that.â
âFascinating field, truly.â
âNope. Youâre not going to help me switch out, are you?â
He leaned forward, chin in his hand, elbow balanced too gracefully for someone who had appeared out of eel magic and poor life choices. âWhy would I do that? I think youâll thrive.â
âYou donât understand,â you said, pleading now. âI killed a cactus.â
âOh, I completely understand,â he said. âAnd I'm going to help you fulfill your potential.â
You froze. ââŠYou mean, like, help me survive until I transfer?â
âNo,â he said.
You dropped your cup. He caught it without looking. You wanted to scream.
The only thing worse than being a botany student⊠was being a botany student with a chaos eel who found fungi romantically intriguing as your familiar.
You were so doomed.
Unfortunately for everyone involvedâand by everyone, specifically youâmagic law was a clingy little thing. Once the summoning circle did its sparkly flashbang thing and delivered you one (1) butler-themed eel man, the universe basically clapped its hands, said âit is what it is,â and slapped a contract in your face.
Minimum term of servitude: one year.
âBut I didnât mean to summon him,â you argued to literally no one who cared. âThere was fish involved! It was a mishap, not a magical invocation!â
Jade, very unhelpfully sipping tea that you definitely hadnât bought, slid the scroll across the table toward you like a cheerful IRS agent. âIntent is only one part of the ritual,â he said with the infinite patience of someone who enjoyed watching trainwrecks in slow motion. âThe contract is already half-formed. You really should sign it before your house explodes.â
You stared at the scroll.
Then at him.
Then at the scroll again.
âDo I at least get a trial period?â you tried.
âNo,â he said, smiling.
âA free return policy?â
âNo.â
âIs there, like, an eel clause I can exploit?â
He chuckled. You were going to die in this major.
With the kind of reluctant grace that only someone whoâd just accidentally legally bound themselves to a smug sea-creature man could muster, you signed.
The moment the pen left the paper, the air shifted with a cozy little pop, as if magic itself was tucking you both in and whispering âcongratulations on your joint custody of chaos.â A faint glow danced around Jadeâs shoulders. Your window exploded.
(Youâd ask questions about that later.)
âThere we are,â Jade said, clasping his hands. âFamiliar and mage, officially contracted. Shall I begin compiling a weekly schedule for our fieldwork?â
âFieldâoh no.â
âOh yes,â he beamed. âWeâll be revisiting the entire kingdom flora catalogue, starting with mosses.â
You suddenly understood the reason why some mages went mad.
And unfortunately, youâd just handed yours the clipboard.
The next morning, you dragged yourself to class like a condemned soul to the gallows, weighed down by a sense of impending doom and also by the deeply unsettling realization that your familiar had organized your bookshelf by spore reproduction categories sometime during the night.
Everyone else looked so normal. There was someone with a fire spirit coiled lazily around their shoulders, someone else with a giant spectral wolf that radiated unbothered energy, and even one smug jerk with a miniature dragon who was definitely using it to cheat on practical tests.
And then there was you.
With him.
Jade stood a respectful half-step behind you, dressed like a mildly menacing butler who might also commit tax fraud if given the opportunity. He carried your books. He bowed to your professor. He smiled at your classmates.
You didnât trust that smile. That was the smile of a man who had definitely poisoned a royal court and got away with it by turning the queen into a toadstool.
Someone asked what type of spirit youâd summoned.
You opened your mouth to lie.
Jade answered for you. âThey were aiming for a dragon,â he said, serene as ever. âBut an eel will have to do.â
The entire class stared at you. You stared into the void.
âIt was the unagi,â you muttered, already defeated.
No one knew what that meant, but it sounded stupid, so they all laughed.
Jade patted your back like a supportive guardian. You were ninety percent sure it was to check your spine for eventual harvesting.
Gods help you. It was only the first period.
The Academy was in shambles.
Centuries of magical history. Thousands of successfully summoned fire spirits, storm wolves, mildly angry raccoons. And youâa botany major with a dead cactus on your recordâhad gone and summoned a person.
Not a ghost.
Not an illusion.
Not even a creepy guy pretending to be summonable.
No. A fully functional person.
âTechnically,â the Dean said, staring at the magical contract hovering over your heads, âyou⊠own him now.â
You almost threw up on the ornate rug.
Jade Leech, the man in question, just smiledâsharp, calm, entirely too pleased.
âThis is so cursed,â you whispered.
âOh no,â he replied sweetly. âThis is fate.â
And that was only the beginning of your descent into contractual hell.
Because Jade? Oh, he thrived under magical servitude. Took to it like a duck to water. Like an eel to crime.
He started calling you Master.
In public. Loudly. With emphasis.
âGood morning, Master,â he purred on the way to breakfast, gliding past stunned first-years who immediately assumed you were either very powerful or very into some stuff they werenât ready to Google.
âJade. Stop.â
âAs you command, Master.â
You tried reasoning with him. You begged. You threatened to cry in front of the Headmistress.
Didnât matter.
In fact, the more embarrassed you got, the worse it became.
âMaster, shall I carry your books?â
âNo.â
âYour lunch?â
âNo.â
âYour emotional baggage?â
âJadeââ
âAh, but you summoned me, Master. Now weâre bonded.â
You looked around, desperate for help, but every professor just kind of shrugged. Magical contracts were sacred. Breakable only through death, divine intervention, or, apparently, a system of interpretive dances before the moon goddess during a blood eclipse. None of which were happening before finals.
So now this was your life.
You were the âownerâ of a smug eel man in a waistcoat who made you do your homework, made better tea than your own grandmother, and insisted on calling you Master while looking like a very polite threat.
You used to be a normal student with no future in botany.
You should've just failed your exams like a normal student.
Jade settled into your dorm room like heâd been planning it for years. Which was frankly insane, considering youâd only accidentally summoned him a day ago.
You woke up the morning after signing the magically binding familiar contract to find your room⊠different. Not horrifyingly so, just enough to make your eye twitch. Your desk had moved three inches to the left. Your bookshelf now had labels. Your cactusâpreviously deceasedâwas somehow thriving in a suspiciously fancy ceramic pot.
And then there were the jars. Oh gods, the jars. They lined the shelves now in neat, alphabetized rows. Some were normalââChamomile,â âSea Salt,â âLavender Sprigs.â Others were less so. âTooth Collection (Domestic)â sat right next to âRainwater (For Legal Use Only).â You wanted to ask, but Jade had a look in his eye that said whatever answer you get, you wonât like it.
He also brewed tea every morning. Not the relaxing kind. The existential crisis in a cup kind. You drank one (1) polite sip and suddenly understood what âthe color elevenâ looked like. Your body remained seated but your soul went on a brief vacation.
You had no idea how, but you were scoring higher in Botany. You still couldnât identify a single plant, but Jade kept slipping you notes mid-lab with things like âThis one bites. Do not sniff.â or âLick at your own risk.â
So yes, your GPA was rising. Unfortunately, so was your blood pressure. And your heart rate. And your sense that you were, somehow, very much in danger.
Jade simply smiled every time you panicked. âYouâre thriving, Master,â heâd say, and sip his tea like he wasnât actively reorganizing your entire life.
You were not thriving. You were surviving. Barely.
The assignment was simple on paper: identify twenty local plants, label their genus, and list their magical and medicinal properties.
Which was all fine and dandy if you werenât a person who had accidentally killed a cactus by underwatering it because you âdidnât want to overwhelm it.âÂ
Youâd gotten through most of your academic career via a potent combination of vibes, frantic late-night study sessions, and an almost supernatural level of spite. But thisâthis was science. With labels. And botanical terminology. And leaves that all looked the same.
So, you did what any sane, desperate mage-in-training with poor decision-making skills and a total lack of botanical knowledge would do.
You brewed a bathtub-sized cauldron of universal poison antidote and decided youâd taste-test each plant to figure out which one was lethal and, by process of elimination, identify the rest.
Jade found you leaning over the cauldron, mumbling something about statistical mortality rates and chewing on a leaf like a feral squirrel trying to beat natural selection.
âI thought you were joking,â he said, in that same unsettlingly pleasant tone he always used when you were actively concerning him.
âI wasnât!â you declared. âThis is science, Jade. And survival. Iâve made enough antidote to survive an assassination attemptââ
âYou made it in your bathtub.â
ââand Iâm going to lick nature into submission.â
Jade sat you down at the table, folded his hands neatly, and asked youâpolitely but with the weight of an ancient curse behind itâto repeat your plan.
You did.
He stared at you.
You shifted in your seat.
He continued to stare, like a disappointed headmaster.
â...Okay fine,â you finally muttered. âIt is a bad plan.â
âThank you,â he said calmly. âWould you like to identify your plants using logic, reference books, and assistance from your familiar, or would you prefer a slow and humiliating descent into gastrointestinal regret?â
âI mean, when you say it like thatââ
âWonderful. Iâll prepare the tea.â
You hated how soothing (mostly) his tea was.Â
You found out purely by accident.
Your friend sat down at lunch with a heavy sigh and a tear-streaked face, muttering something about how their fox familiar had gone limp and glassy-eyed after being ignored for two days straight in favor of midterms. Apparently, he needed âemotional engagementâ and âfrequent pets.â
You had not known this. You had not known any of this.
You returned to your dorm in a panic.
Jade, as always, was seated like an eerie portrait come to life, sipping tea and reading a book that looked suspiciously bound in scales. He raised one eyebrow as you burst through the door carrying three different types of fruits and a hand-sewn blanket youâd made in Home Ec two years ago.
âI heard that familiars need enrichment,â you blurted. âDo youâare you enriched? Are you feeling under-enriched? Whatâs your favorite snack enrichment type? Is it eels? Oh no wait, is that cannibalism? I donât know your rules!â
Jade blinked slowly. âYou believe I am in poor health?â
âI donât know!â you wailed, thrusting the blanket at him. âI donât know the maintenance routine for familiars! You could be dying from sadness and I wouldnât know!â
He looked down at the blanket. It had uneven edges and a sewn-on mushroom that looked like it had witnessed terrible things. Slowly, he took it. Draped it over his lap. Sipped his tea again.
âYou are a very considerate Master,â he said with a pleased little smile that absolutely shouldnât have made you feel like youâd just earned an A+ in Familiar Wellness. âI feel much better already.â
You werenât sure if he was messing with you or not. But then he let you tuck the blanket around his shoulders like a shawl, and even let you hand-feed him a strawberry.
You decided you didnât care if he was messing with you. His ears were flushed. That was a win.
You needed Nightshade. Not the safe kind eitherâthe real, reactive stuff that tended to hiss if the humidity wasnât just right and once exploded in someone's bag for being stared at wrong.
Unfortunately, your professors had firmly, repeatedly, and increasingly frantically refused to let you anywhere near it. Something about âprior incidents,â âa trail of fire ants through the dorm hallway,â and âwe are begging you to stop licking mystery leaves.â
But you had an experiment to finish, and a lack of official approval had never stopped a single mage in history. Which was how you found yourself sneaking into the restricted greenhouse under cover of darkness, with your overly smug eel-familiar following like he was on a stroll and not a felonious B&E.
âThis is clearly illegal,â Jade said cheerfully, as he helped you pick the lock.
âYouâre a summoned being. Laws donât apply to you,â you muttered, shoving the door open.
âThatâs speciesist,â he said mildly, and you ignored him on purpose.
The two of you tiptoed through rows of glowing plants, whisper-bickering the whole way.
âDonât touch that. It screams.â
âYou scream.â
âYes, and I have a great voice.â
He huffed a laugh. You tried not to grin. You failed.
Honestly, it wouldâve been a perfectly stupid and smooth heistâuntil the Shrike Vine noticed you. Apparently it was pollination season and it was feeling bitey. You froze as a thick green tendril snapped toward you like a whip.
Except it never hit.
Jade moved faster than you thought was possible. One hand caught the vine mid-strike, the other calmly flicked a tiny blade across it like he was trimming hedges instead of saving your life.
And then, because he was a menace, he leaned in closeâjust enough for you to catch the sharp gleam in his mismatched eyesâand murmured:
âIâm very good at protecting whatâs mine.â
You were not about to combust in a greenhouse. You were not. Absolutely not.
Still. Your face was hot. You blamed the bioluminescent plants.
âWhâThatâs notâyou canât just say things like that,â you hissed.
He tilted his head, looking unbothered and devastatingly pleased. âWhy not?â
You opened your mouth. Closed it. Pointed at the vine. âIs that one safe to lick?â
âAbsolutely not.â
ââŠCool, cool, just checking.â
The incident itself wasnât even your fault this time, which was frankly insulting, considering you usually caused at least 70% of the department's arcane emergencies.Â
No, this time it was Jeremy from Spell Calculus who accidentally overcharged a fire enhancement glyph and sent a wayward jet of magic careening through the lab like a feral gremlin. It ping-ponged off three protective wards, vaporized a desk plant, and promptly singed your familiar.
Specifically: Jadeâs sleeve caught a little fire. For exactly three seconds.
The sleeve was barely charred. His skin wasnât even red. He smirked.
You, however, reacted like youâd just watched him be stabbed in the heart by a divine lance.
âOH MY GOD YOUâRE BURNINGâARE YOU OKAY?! Is it fatal? Itâs fatal, isnât it?! Whatâs the protocol for familiar injury?! Do you need a resurrection spell?? Should I call the nurse or the exorcistâ?!â
Jade, blinked once. Then calmly patted the faintest whiff of smoke from his robe and said, âI believe Iâll live.â
But the glint in his eyes said he smelled weakness. And he would absolutely exploit it.
The next morning, you showed up with a full care basket: enchanted cooling balm, a wonky scarf youâd panic-crocheted in the night, a potion for nerve regeneration (completely unnecessary), and a whole assortment of healing snacks from the infirmary vending machine.
You even hand-fed him a soothing honey drop.
That was your next mistake.
Because the very next day, Jade reclined across your bed like a drama major rehearsing for a role in âThe Dying Swan: A Magical Tragedy.â He had a lukewarm towel across his forehead, your blanket wrapped dramatically around his shoulders like a cape, and a very deliberate look of fragile suffering.
âAlas,â he whispered, placing the back of his hand to his (completely fine) forehead, âI fear the lingering effects of the trauma are⊠worsening. Thereâs a tightness in my chest. I may never wield a kettle again. My tea senses are dulled.â
You squinted at him, deadpan. âYou brewed two pots this morning.â
âFor you, dearest Master,â he said, with an exaggerated wince. âBut at what cost?â
You refused to indulge him. For about ten minutes.
Then he started coughing. Badly. Into a silk handkerchief. That you were pretty sure heâd dabbed with food coloring beforehand to resemble blood.
âDo you think you can bring⊠strawberry lollipops?â he asked, voice trembling. âBefore I pass on to the next world.â
You shoved five into his mouth. âYouâre not dying. But you are insufferable.â
He sucked dramatically on the sweets, sighing. âI find this treatment emotionally compromising.â
You fed him another one.
And started plotting your revenge with a very bitter herbal ârecoveryâ tea. It smelled like wet moss and tasted like betrayal.
He drank it all. Smiled. Said it âadded intrigue to the healing experience.â
You were no longer sure who was winning this war. But you were definitely losing your mind.
It started subtly. Jade would casually set a teacup in front of you in the mornings, unprompted. Youâd ignore it. Heâd raise an eyebrow. Youâd argue that caffeine was a food group and you didnât need anything else, thank you very much.Â
Heâd say something cryptic like âIâd rather not have to explain malnutrition-related hallucinations to the administration,â and then slide you a plate of suspiciously elegant finger sandwiches.
Somehow, youâd end up eating them.
A week later, you found yourself sitting down for actual breakfastâtea, toast, even fruitâwithout remembering how it happened. Heâd simply adjusted your routine. Quietly. Steadily. Like a moss infestation with an agenda.
He began packing you lunch. Bento-style. With little hand-drawn labels.
You didnât even know when he started doing it. You just opened your bag one day, reached for your emergency gummy stash, and pulled out a thermos of miso soup and a side of rice balls shaped like sea creatures.
He started accompanying you to the dining hall under the excuse of "needing seaweed access." He monitored your meals. Commented on vitamin intake. Replaced your sugar gummies with dried fruit. Told you that if he caught you drinking energy drinks for dinner again, heâd report you to botanical safety for trying to poison a living plant (Vermin had still not recovered from the one time you tried to share a Monster with it).
Eventually, your friendâsweet, concerned, possibly one skipped breakfast away from passing outâcornered you between lectures.
"Hey," she said, tugging your sleeve with wide eyes. âI need to ask you something and I donât want you to freak out.â
You, holding a bento box labeled âDonât Forget to Finish Your Spinach, Masterâ with a small smiling mushroom drawn on it, tilted your head. âOkay?â
She glanced around, lowered her voice, and whispered, âWhoâs the familiar here?â
You stared at her.
She stared back.
In the distance, Jade waved at you politely while handing a professor a jar of suspicious glowing jam.
You opened your mouth. Closed it. Thought about how heâd reorganized your pantry by nutritional pyramid. Thought about how your life had improved and yet somehow spiraled out of your control in the exact same breath.
âI⊠donât know anymore,â you whispered back.
And that was the beginning of your existential crisis about power dynamics, dietary fiber, and eel-based emotional manipulation.
The more you thought about it, the more the terrible, horrifying truth settled in: Jade had been slowly taming you.
Not in a leash-and-collar kind of way (though you werenât entirely convinced he wouldnât enjoy that visual), but in the slow, methodical way one might tame a particularly wild housecat. One that hissed at vegetables and believed microwaved instant noodles were the pinnacle of culinary achievement.
When youâd first summoned himâon accident, via unagi-induced chaos and a summoning circle that was technically illegal in five countriesâyouâd been expecting a fae general. A terrifying beast of war. A dragon, maybe.Â
What you got was a polite, well-dressed man with a smile that could curdle milk and the calm demeanor of someone whoâd enjoy watching your academic career spontaneously combust.Â
You were sure he would spend his time reclining in your dorm like some cryptid, sipping tea while you panicked over assignments and singlehandedly ruined your chances at survival in botany.
That had been your first impression.
But it wasnât what happened.
Instead, Jade made it his mission to ruin you in the most terrifying way imaginable: through care.
He made sure you ate. He brewed tea tailored to your stress levels. He reorganized your notebooks by topic and color-coded them while claiming he was âbored.â He calmly extracted you from five different poison ivy incidents. He taught you how to pronounce âphotosynthesisâ correctly after you spent an entire presentation calling it âplant vibes.â
And you hated to admit itâbut it worked.
You stopped waking up in a panic. You stopped considering glitter glue a legitimate potion ingredient. You even passed a midterm without attempting to bribe a forest fairy.
It was subtle. Devious. Soft.
And worst of all, it was making you feel warm. Cared for. Grounded.
You used to dream of summoning a dragonâa grand, legendary familiar that would impress the entire academy and maybe light your homework on fire for dramatic effect. But now?
Now you watched Jade hum to himself in your kitchen, cooking something that smelled like lemon and dreams, and you didnât care about dragons. Or status. Or changing streams.
You just wanted to figure out if there was a spell that could describe the exact way your heart skipped when he smiled at you and called you âMasterâ with that infuriating glint in his eye.
And if not⊠well. Maybe youâd make one.
From Jadeâs point of view, your summoning had all the signs of an impending disasterâand thus, a highly enjoyable evening.
The circle was sloppy, the candles were the wrong color, and the ambient magical pressure was off by several kilopascals. The unagi that had plummeted into the center as a last-minute offering had been particularly concerning. Jade had arrived in a flash of light and fish-scented smoke, bracing for either mortal peril or at least a good laugh.
And then he saw you.
Wide-eyed. Covered in ink. Mumbling about âhoping for a dragon or something.â The perfect storm of magical desperation and zero planning skills. He had thought youâd be amusing. A novelty. A fun little side project to pass the time while bound by contract for a year.
And at first, that was exactly what you were. You were so spectacularly bad at botany that Jade was convinced you were a social experiment.
You called mushrooms âleaf meat.â You once referred to an entire genus of plants as âthe crunchy ones.â And your plan to identify herbs by tasting them like a medieval poison tester had nearly given him a stroke. (Emotionally. Heâs far too composed for physical symptoms.)
But somewhere between force-feeding you actual meals and dragging you out of exploding greenhouses, Jade started feeling⊠something. Not just amusement. Not just secondhand horror.
Affection.
It was awful.
So naturally, he did what any emotionally stunted eel-man would doâhe ramped up the teasing. Called you âMasterâ in public. Smiled just a little too sharply. Hovered with a quiet attentiveness he pretended wasnât genuine.
But when he thought back to that summoningâyour hopeful eyes, the half-charred fish, the complete magical disasterâJade realized something horrifying.
He owed his current happiness to a piece of grilled eel.
The next time he saw unagi on a menu, he gave it a respectful nod. After all, not every familiar bond is forged through fate, fire, and ancient prophecy.
Some are forged through sheer dumb luck and seafood.
You had always believed, deep in your feral little heart, that if you ever fell in love, it would be with the intensity of a meteor crashing into the earth. There would be pyrotechnics. An orchestra. Maybe a cursed bouquet of sentient mushrooms arranged in the shape of your initials. Something properly dramatic.
You were prepared for a sweeping romance. A declaration shouted from a balcony. A confession under a blood moon. At the very least, a sword fight followed by heavy breathing and an emotionally repressed kiss.
What you were not prepared for was... a random morning.
More specifically: today morning at 6:42 a.m., in your tragically unventilated dorm kitchen, where you shuffled in half-awake, wearing a blanket like a disgruntled ghost. Your hair looked like it had seen war. Your socks didnât match. You were only conscious due to residual academic panic and caffeine withdrawal.
And there Jade was. Crisp and awake and annoyingly gorgeous, as usual, humming some eerie little tune while cooking god-knows-what on your stove. The sunlight framed him like he was in a toothpaste commercial. There were suspicious jars open on the counter labeled things like âFenugreek??? (Maybe)â and âDo Not Inhale.â
He glanced at you over his shoulder, amused. âGood morning, Master.â
You grunted. It was too early for sarcasm or formal titles.
So, with the sleep-deprived logic of a creature who had survived exclusively on coffee and academic desperation, you trudged over to him, latched onto his waist like a needy koala, and rested your cheek against his back.
You did not plan this. Your body moved on its own, possessed by the Spirit of Affection.
To his credit, he didnât question it. Jade simply chuckled, adjusted his stance, and offered you a spoonful of something suspiciously green and steaming.
You tasted it. Your neurons barely fired. It was delicious and probably illegal.
And then, without thought, without warning, still pressed against him and one brain cell away from sleep, you mumbled, âI love you.â
There was a beat of silence.
You blinked.
Wait.
Waitâ
What the hell did you just sayâ
YOU SAID THAT OUT LOUDâ
Jade paused with the spoon still in his hand, his entire body going still like a predator that just heard something interesting. Thenâslowly, like he was savoring itâhe turned.
He looked at you. He really looked at you. And then, in true chaos spirit fashion, he grinned.
Not his usual polite smile. No. This was different. This one had teeth.
âOh?â he said, softly. âOh?â
And that was the moment you realized: you had said those three words to a man who considered emotional vulnerability an invitation to hunt.
You tried to backtrack. Tried to say you meant âI love youâr soup.â
Or âI love you as a friend. A colleague. A sentient eel.â
But before you could decide on your lie of choice, he leaned down and kissed you.
It started sweet. Gentle. Thoughtful, like maybe he was giving you time to flee.
You didnât. That was your mistake.
Because then his hand slid around your waist, and the kiss deepened, and suddenly your kitchen felt too small, and too warm, and definitely not rated for public indecency. Your legs threatened to give out. Your brain flatlined.
When he pulled away, you were breathless and dazed. You looked at him, heart hammering, pupils blown wide.
He tilted his head, still grinning, and said, âYou taste like honesty. How rare.â
You briefly considered combusting on the spot.
And as he turned back to the stove like nothing had happened, humming again, you realized something terrifying:
You were in love.
And you were the prey.
And you were kind of okay with that.
When familiar contract renewal season arrivedâaccompanied by the usual administrative chaos, enchanted paperwork that bit fingers, and panicked first-years realizing their mushroom toadlings had exploded againâyou were⊠calm.
Weirdly, suspiciously calm.
You should have been stressed. You were, after all, still a mage in training with a botany grade being held together by duct tape, blind luck, and the sheer force of your familiarâs passive-aggressive hovering.
But no. You werenât worried. Because somehow, over the past year of accidental poisonings, illegal greenhouse heists, and near-romantic tea-induced hallucinations, you and Jade had fallen into something far more dangerous than summoning magic: mutual affection. Possibly even love. Terrifying.
And yet, when the day came, you expected a conversation. A little back and forth. Maybe some dramatic flourish on his partâJade had a flair for drama and mild emotional terrorism, after all. At the very least, you thought heâd present a contract with a smirk and some cryptic line about âservitude never being quite so delightful.â
But he didnât.
You woke up one morning to find him already seated at your desk, as if heâd been waiting all night. The early sun filtered through your window, highlighting the soft teal of his hair and the amused glint in his eyes. You were still blinking the sleep out of yours, shuffling over in your raccoon-print pajamas with all the grace of a zombie when he slid the document toward you.
A thick, arcane-heavy contract. One that glowed softly at the edges. Titled:
Signed in an elegant, curling script with a wax seal that looked like an eel tail. No jokes. No teasing. No loopholes.
You stared at the paper. Then at him.
ââŠYou want to be stuck with me forever?â you asked, because your brain short-circuited and apparently decided that was the most romantic response it could muster.
Jade raised a brow. âYou make lifeâinteresting,â he said, voice inflected with all the warmth and amusement of someone who once watched you attempt to eat a venomous berry âfor science.â
You blinked again. âThatâs not a no.â
âItâs a yes,â he said easily, his smile softening. âIâd like to be yours. If youâll have me.â
You didnât even hesitate.
You picked up the pen and signed your name beneath his. The moment the ink dried, the paper vanished in a swirl of moss-green smoke, the pact sealed with a pleasant little magical ding.
âSo,â you said, heart thudding in your chest as you looked up at him, âweâre really doing this.â
âWe are,â he said.
âForever is a long time.â
âNot nearly long enough.â
And you had to kiss him after that, because what else do you do when your familiarânot-quite-boyfriend-but-very-possibly-soulmate says something like that?
He kissed you back like heâd been waiting years. And you let him, sinking into his arms like it was the only place youâd ever belonged.
You, a chaotic disaster of a botany student. Him, a merman familiar who brewed tea that could bend time.
A perfect, absurd, slightly terrifying match.
Later that evening, when you sat together on the windowsill, legs tangled and laughter echoing, you realized something else: you'd meant to find a way out of the botany stream. A bigger future. A stronger school of magic.
But with Jade by your side, maybe botany wasnât a prisonâit was just where you bloomed.
It started, as most disasters in your life did, with you tripping over your own feet. Specifically, youâd tripped face-first into a rare carnivorous plant while trying to impress your professor with your âinnovative approach to hands-on learning.â (Your professor had screamed. The plant had screamed louder. You still didnât know plants could do that.)
And while you were nursing your slightly-bitten pride and applying salve to your dignity, some golden-haired, obnoxiously perfect fourth-year had wandered over, all pristine robes and condescending smiles.
âYou know,â he said to Jade, completely ignoring you like you were a decorative shrub, âitâs a shame. A familiar with your magical potential? Tied to someone whoâs clearly... not invested in their future.â
You scoffed. Loudly. âExcuse you. I am very invested in my future. I just think the universe should meet me halfway and stop putting venomous moss in my study patch.â
The student didnât even blink. âYou deserve a master who challenges you. Who brings out your best.â
Jade tilted his head, politely smiling the way a shark might if it had impeccable manners and was about to swallow a surfer whole.
âI see,â he said, sipping his tea. âAnd that would be⊠you?â
âWhy not?â the student said, and you hated how confident he sounded. âThey're wasting you.â
You froze.
You knew it wasnât true. Jade had chosen you. Signed a lifelong contract. Literally brewed you soup after you set your eyebrows on fire.
But the words stung in a way you hadnât expected.
You tried to play it cool. Shrugged. âIf he wants to leave, he can. No oneâs stopping him.â
Jadeâs eyes flicked toward you, a tiny crease between his brows. âIs that what you think?â
You shrugged again. Forced a smile. âWhy wouldnât it be? Go ahead. Take your tea. Find a master who challenges you.â
And with that, you walked away, head high, hands clenched so tight your knuckles cracked.
You spent the rest of the night trying not to cry into your pillow.
The next morning, your pillow was suspiciously warm. And breathing.
You cracked open one eye to find Jade wrapped around you like a clingy snake with boundary issues and an attitude problem.
âWhatâJadeâget offâ!â
âIâm sleeping,â he said.
âYou are not! Youâre emotionally ambushing me!â
He didnât move. Just curled tighter.
You squirmed, shoved, flailed. Nothing worked. The man had the tensile strength of a vine and the stubbornness of ten toddlers.
Eventually, you gave up and pouted at him. âYou were mean yesterday.â
âI wasnât trying to be,â he admitted cheerfully, his tone dangerously close to smug. âBut in my defense, I expected my master to realize I have taste.â
You sulked harder. âYou owe me.â
âOh?â
âAnd Iâm cashing it in later.â
âOf course, Master.â
ââŠStop calling me that in the dorm.â
âNo.â
You didnât bring it up again. But the next day, as you passed that fourth-year in the hallway, he looked pale, shaken, and was clutching a charm pouch so tightly it mightâve become a fossil.
You glanced at Jade. He looked serene. Suspiciously serene.
ââŠWhat did you do?â you whispered.
âMe?â he smiled. âNothing serious.â
You stared at him. He sipped his tea.
You decided you definitely werenât asking.
But later, when he draped himself across your bed again and offered you a cup of calming lavender-citrus tea with a wink, you realized one thing:
You may be a borderline disaster of a mage, but Jade Leech was yours. And gods help anyone who forgot it.
You'd been holding back.
It wasn't that you were scared. Okay, noâyou were absolutely terrified. Because the âwhat are weâ question carried the weight of galaxies, of shifting dynamics and possible heartbreak, and you werenât emotionally prepared to deal with that when you were already behind on your fungal studies and had just accidentally set your robe on fire trying to dry herbs.
Still, it was getting harder and harder to ignore the fact that Jade Leech, your familiar, your chaos partner, your maybe-something-more, had kissed you good morning again that day. Just a soft brush of lips while you were half-asleep, before you could even form coherent thought. And youâd just blinked at him, dazed and blushing and maybe a little dead inside.
And then that horrible, arrogant, no-chin-having senior from the advanced familiar studies track saidâloudlyâthat if someone like Jade were his familiar, heâd âtreat him properlyâ and ânot waste potential on a person who still mistakes fertilizer for potion ingredients.â
You saw red. Possibly green. Maybe fuchsia, depending on how much of Jadeâs tea was still in your system. But whatever the color, something snapped in your soul.
Because no one was taking Jade from you.
Not when he brewed you anti-headache tea with honey because he knew you hated bitter things. Not when he cleaned your desk with the gentleness of a man legally married to your organization system. Not when he smiled at you like you were a curious algae bloom he couldn't stop poking at. Not when he kissed your forehead, your temple, your nose, your cheekâlike loving you was as natural as breathing.
So.
You marched.
You stormed into your dorm room where he was casually rearranging his jar collection (you didnât ask, you'd learned not to the hard way.) and pointed an aggressively trembling finger at him.
âBe mine!â you shouted.
Jade blinked once. Then tilted his head, that infuriatingly pretty smile already forming. âI thought I already was, Master.â
Your brain combusted. You flailed. âHuh?!â
âI assumed the constant kissing and emotional intimacy might have been a clue.â His eyes sparkled. âShould I have drawn a diagram? I could make a chartââ
You launched yourself at him in mortified fury. âNo charts!â
He caught you with practiced ease, laughed that horrible, lovely laugh of his, and kissed you againâthis time slower, deeper, like heâd been waiting for this exact moment.
You melted. Fully collapsed like overwatered moss in his arms.
When you finally came up for air, dizzy and giddy and mildly offended at how good he was at this, he tucked a strand of your hair behind your ear and murmured, âNow that weâve established that⊠shall we discuss what weâre calling the wedding mushrooms?â
You screamed into his shoulder.
He laughed again.
And that night, you dreamed of rings made of sea glass and mushrooms that glowed softly in the dark.
one more night by bts just has this dreamlike/syrupy haze to it and it made me think of vil so here we go
w.c: ~1.4k
Vil started staying over accidentally. At least, that was the lie he told himself during the first few weeks, back when the entire thing still was what he considered a temporary indulgence instead of the terrifying slow-creeping permanence it eventually became.
The first night had happened because rain flooded the streets hard enough to stall traffic into glittering unmoving rivers beneath the city lights, and Vil arrived at your apartment soaked from knee to shoulder despite the umbrella folded elegantly beneath his arm. His hair clung against his neck, pale gold gone several shades darker under the rainwater, and he looked deeply irritated because of circumstances he could not bully into obedience through sheer force of will.
You had opened the door wearing one of his old hoodies that had mysteriously migrated into your possession three weeks prior and never returned.
Vil noticed immediately because he noticed everything about you immediately.
âYouâre dripping on my floor,â you informed him sleepily.
âAnd yet somehow your first concern is the hardwood instead of my well-being. Charming.â
âYou survive fashion assassination attempts from stylists twice a month. I figured rain ranked lower.â
Vil stepped inside when you moved aside and your apartment had already begun developing the dangerous sensation of familiarity around him. The smell of whatever shampoo you use comforts him. Somewhere deeper inside, music drifted softly through the rooms, synth-heavy and dreamlike, floating melodies that made the apartment feel submerged underwater.
You had terrible taste in timing.
You had excellent taste in atmosphere.
âTake your shoes off before you ruin my rug too,â you added.
âHow generous. Truly, your compassion knows no bounds.â
âYou can leave if you want.â
Vil looked at you for one long deliberate second before reaching down to remove his shoes.
You smiled slightly in victory.
That expression ruined the rest of his evening immediately.
Afterward, the nights began stacking together slowly enough that neither of you noticed the accumulation until it was already far too late to pretend otherwise.
Vil would arrive after filming or interviews or rehearsals and the worst part, Vil eventually decided, was how naturally your apartment learned him.
The place adapted around his existence slowly enough that he only noticed once the transformation had already rooted itself into every room.
His preferred tea appeared stocked in your cabinets without discussion. The couch permanently carried the faint scent of his perfume soaked into the fabric from too many exhausted late nights collapsed sideways against the cushions. Your bathroom mirror became crowded with expensive skincare products arranged in neat gleaming rows beside your chaotic collection of half-empty bottles.
Even the lighting changed.
You started leaving lamps on instead of overhead lights because Vil complained once that bright lighting after midnight made him like he was still under the spotlight and afterward your apartment remained permanently dipped in warm gold and shadow.
It made everything softer.
The edges of furniture blurred slightly at night. Steam from the shower drifted lazily through hallways glowing amber beneath low lighting. Reflections stretched across windows after rainstorms while synth-heavy playlists hummed endlessly somewhere in the background, all slow basslines and dreamy melodies that wrapped around conversations until the nights themselves started feeling suspended outside ordinary time.
Vil became addicted to that feeling almost immediately.
He arrived one evening long after midnight to find you sitting on the kitchen counter eating strawberries directly from the carton while staring blankly into space.
âYou look haunted,â he informed you after stepping inside.
You blinked slowly.
âYou ever get so tired your bones feel microwaved?â
âWhat a deeply upsetting sentence.â
You held a strawberry toward him without looking.
Vil accepted it automatically.
Everything between you had become automatic; especially touch.
At some point during the past few months, both of you had stopped noticing the constant small collisions drawing you together throughout every night. Knees pressed together beneath blankets. Fingers brushing absentmindedly during conversations. Your ankle hooked lazily over his foot while sitting beside each other on the couch.
Vil found himself reaching for you unconsciously now.
A hand against your waist while passing behind you in the kitchen. Fingers smoothing your damp hair away from your face after showers. His thumb tracing idle circles against your wrist while neither of you paid direct attention to it.
The intimacy accumulated slowly until the apartment itself felt thick with it.
One night the two of you ended up in the bathtub again sometime around three in the morning after Vil complained his muscles hurt from rehearsals.
Your buildingâs hot water system was criminally inconsistent, meaning the bath had already begun cooling by the time you climbed in beside him.
Steam fogged the mirrors completely. Music drifted softly from your phone speaker across the room, muffled slightly beneath the sound of water shifting around both of you.
Vil leaned back against the tub with his eyes closed while you traced meaningless patterns through condensation gathered along the tile wall beside his head.
âWhat are you drawing,â he murmured sleepily.
âNothing.â
âI'm calling it, it'll be a cat.â
âItâs abstract.â
Vil opened one eye just enough to look at you.
Your hair is damp, strands sticking lazily against your neck ans forehead while warm light from the lamps painted gold across your skin. You look relaxed and that has softened your entire expression. You looked loose around the edges somehow, comfortable in a way Vil rarely allowed himself to become around other people.
Then your finger drifted downward absentmindedly through the fogged tile until you drew a tiny heart directly beside his shoulder.
You stared at it afterward as if surprised by your own hand.
Vilâs chest tightened painfully.
The silence afterward stretched warm and heavy.
âYour hair is falling out of the clip,â you mumbled eventually.
âYou say that every time I attempt to relax.â
âBecause every time you attempt to relax you start unraveling physically.â
âYou make me sound defective.â
Then your head drifted sideways against his shoulder naturally enough that he doubted you even consciously chose to do it.
The movement nearly stopped his heart anyway.
There were moments now where the closeness between you became almost overwhelming in its density. Nights where the apartment felt too warm despite open windows. Too quiet despite music playing softly in the background. Too full of unspoken affection pressing invisibly against every room.
Vil had never experienced emotional intimacy this prolonged before.
Passion, yes. Attraction, endlessly. Admiration from afar practically followed him professionally.
But this?
This slow drowning sensation of becoming intertwined with another person piece by piece until even solitude started feeling incorrect? That was new.
The nights grew stranger after that.
Sometimes the two of you would fall asleep halfway through conversations without meaning to. Vil sprawled across your bed still wearing reading glasses while you rambled softly beside him about absolutely nothing. One moment he would still be listening to your voice through heavy exhaustion, and the next heâd wake hours later to find your face pressed sleepily into his chest while dim blue morning light leaked through the curtains.
Other times neither of you slept at all.
The city would stretch endlessly outside your windows while music looped quietly through the apartment and both of you drifted through rooms half awake, sharing fruit directly from the fridge at four in the morning or brushing teeth side by side while Vil lectured you.
âYou use entirely too many products,â you informed him one night while leaning against the bathroom counter.
âYou use entirely too few.â
âMy skin survives.â
âBarely.â
âYou looked at my face and said barely.â
âI say many truthful things.â
âYouâre evil.â
âAnd yet you continue allowing me into your home.â
You stared at him through the mirror for several long seconds before dissolving into helpless laughter again.
Vil watched your reflection quietly while smoothing moisturizer across his skin.
Then slowly, without fully thinking about it, you wandered toward him and rested your forehead against his shoulder.
Vil immediately wrapped an arm around your waist.
Your sigh against him sounded so soft it almost disappeared beneath the music.
That sound haunted him for days afterward.
The closeness became greedy over time and then increasingly impossible to ignore.
Vil started lingering after kisses instead of pulling away immediately. He started touching your face absentmindedly during conversations. He was staring too long whenever sleepiness made your expression go soft around the edges.
And every single night ended the same way.
With Vil wanting one more hour.
One more song. One more conversation. One more moment stretched beneath dim apartment lighting while the outside world remained mercifully distant.
Because inside your apartment, surrounded by low music and warm shadows and the unbearable sweetness of your presence wrapped around every room, Vil sometimes felt frighteningly close to happiness so complete it bordered on unreality.
a/n:
Reader is a Beast Master.
I originally wrote this back when Backburner by NIKI first dropped, so... 2022? And I had to pour my feelings into something. Of course, I revised it later because oh my gosh, reading my old drafts makes me sick to my stomach T_T it was ass.
This was also written before Book 7 fully came out, so the characterization might be a little off in some places.
Anyway, enjoy Sebek's pain.
Songfic: NIKI - Backburner
I canât lie, it feels nice that youâre calling.
You sound sad and alone, and youâre stalling.
He couldnât lie, not to himself.
It felt good when you called for him. When you needed him. You were a fragile little human, born without magic yet forced to live among those who wielded it like second nature. Poor thing.
And yet you always looked so sad.
Your eyes would drift toward the horizon from that crumbling balcony, searching for something far beyond this world.
He often watched you from behind a pillar, unseen, his chest tightening with something he refused to name.
It couldnât be helped, he told himself.
You were human.
And he was not.
Itâs pathetic, but at least you are, too.
I donât know what to do,
I donât like anyone except sometimes you.
It shouldnât be like this.
It canât be like this.
He thought it was just some strange symptoms. He even asked Lilia for help, but the man only laughed.
Why did his heart race faster than it should? Why did his face burn whenever you were near? Why did his shoes suddenly become so fascinating to stare at? It was strange, seeing himself lose composure like this.
And it always happened around you.
That human who always tiptoed around him, yet never failed to greet him. That human who smiled even when Malleus was beside him, utterly unafraid.
Youâ
with those eyes that glowed whenever you saw a beast you should have avoided, with hair that clung to your cheeks when you insisted on helping a Kelpie dress its wounds.
See? He was rambling again.
And it was because of you.
So began his mission to avoid you at all costs.
Spot you in the hallway? He suddenly needed to use the bathroom.
See you in the cafeteria? Heâd lose his appetite and trade his shift with Silver.
Catch sight of you in the library? Homework, apparently, was best done in the comfort of his dorm.
Oh, how it backfired.
One afternoon, as he walked down the hall with Malleus, Lilia, and Silver, you appeared out of nowhere.
Completely off guard, he froze.
âSebek, do you have a moment?â you asked, all innocent eyes and disarming smile.
âMy, if it isnât the child of man,â Malleus mused. âDo you have business with Sebek?â
No, she does not, my Lord! Please, no!
âYes, Horntorn. Can I have him for a moment?â
Crap. You'd cornered him perfectly. First by surprise, now by manners. You knew he couldnât disobey a command from his lord.
A sly fox, this human.
And what do you mean by having him for a moment?!
âOf course,â Malleus said, smiling far too kindly. âHe has a few minutes to spare.â
Sebekâs panic rose. Quick, excuses! Anything!
âActually, I have homework to finish, and itâs due very soon,â he blurted.
âHm?â Liliaâs eyes gleamed with mischief. âDidnât you tell me yesterday that youâd finished all your work so you could guard Malleus all day today?â
Sebek wanted the earth to swallow him whole. Betrayal. Lilia knew exactly what he was doing.
Silver was his last hope. As much as itâs hurt his pride, he has no other option. He turned to him, eyes begging for rescue.
Silver, the traitor, suddenly found a gargoyle on the wall worth his undivided attention.
Hopeless. Completely hopeless.
âWell then,â Malleus said, amused. âIt wonât hurt to spare a moment for the child of man. Weâll be in the dorm.â
And just like that, they left. Malleus, Silver, and Lilia. All gone, leaving him alone with his doom.
The Great Thorn Fairy, please save him. Sebekâs eyes darted everywhere, desperate to find anything. A crack in the wall, a speck of dust, a passing fly, more appealing than your gaze. Thank the heavens the hallway was empty, most students had long returned to their dorms by now. This ridiculous little beast must be the only one insane enough to linger after hours just to match Malleusâs fae-time.
And you still hadnât spoken.
âWhat is it you want, human? Speak quickly. Iâm quite busy.â He crossed his arms, trying to air off some superiority.
âDo you hate me that much?â
He froze.
âHuh?â
âIâm asking, do you hate me that much?â
His frown faltered. âWhy would I hate you?â
You shrugged. âBecause Iâm human?â
Sebek scoffed. âIf that were true, Silver would be long gone by now.â
âThen did I do something to upset you?â
âI donât understand where this is coming from, human.â
âYouâve been avoiding me these past few days. Did I do something wrong?â
Yes. Everything. By existing.
But he couldnât say that, because even he didnât know what you'd done wrong.
âYou didnât do anything. And Iâm not avoiding you. Now leave. I have duties to attend to.â
He turned sharply, but you followed, struggling to match his pace.
âWait, Sebek! Please, just listen to me for a secâAh!â
A sharp sound. He turned. You were on the floor, clutching your leg, a red mark blooming on your heel.
âGreat SevenâŠâ He knelt beside you, inspecting your foot. âYou stupid human. You should know how fragile your body is. Look what youâve done.â
âYou didnât stopâŠâ you mumbled, wincing.
He sighed. âLetâs get you to the infirmary. Take my hand.â
âNo!â
Of course. Stubborn as always.
âStop being difficult.â He reached for you, but you resisted.
âHUMAN, STOP STRUGGLING AND LET ME HELP YOU!â
âNooooo!â
He clicked his tongue in frustration. âHonestly. What do you want?â
You stopped flailing and looked at him with those wide eyes. âPromise to stop avoiding me.â
âI did not avoid you.â
âYou did.â
âI did not.â
âThen promise to say hi when I greet you in the hallway.â
He groaned. âFine. I will. Now letâs go.â
âPromise to talk to me if weâre in the same class?â
âYes, I will.â
âPromise to hang out with me and the others like you used to?â
âWhen did I ever hang out with you moronsââ
âSebek!â
âYes, okay?! Yes! Great Seven! What more do you want from me, woman?!â
You smiled, radiant and utterly pleased with yourself. And Sebek instantly regretted everything.
âOkay then. Letâs get to the infirmary,â you said, lifting your hands.
He sighed again and picked you up. You laughed softly, face glowing, and didnât stop smiling the entire way there.
He thanked the Thorn Fairy once again for the blessed absence of souls in the corridor. Truly, heâd rather be strangled to death than face a mob of furious students watching their beloved idol grinning in his arms.
Being the only girl in an all-boys school sure is tiring.
And now youâre sounding like a hurt puppy,
You look ugly when you cry.
But Iâm the one you think to call.
How do you feel lucky and appaled at the same time?
He is defeated. He has fallen for you. Everything is painfully, humiliatingly clear now.
It happened the moment he saw you nearly fall to your death during flight class. Your broom, enchanted by Grim, veering out of control, spiraling toward the ground. Sebek didnât think. He rushed after you, wind roaring past his ears, and caught you just in time.
They hit the ground hard, but alive. He held you tight, refusing to let go, even as you gasped and tried to assure him you were fine. Your voice trembled with laughter, but he could feel your heart racing against his chest, nearly matching his own.
Stupid human. How could you still try to reassure him when you were the one who almost died? How could you smile at him like that, soft and unbothered, when he could barely breathe from the terror still clawing at his chest?
This is why he hates you.
He hates how reckless you are. How little you seems to care for your own safety. How you throws yourself into danger just to help others.
He hates you.
He hates how you'd managed to capture his heart so easily, with every reckless, shining day you spends in his orbit.
So he lashes out. Screams at you for being foolish, for being weak, for not thinking. His words cut deep, dragging every part of you into his fury until Jack grabs him by the collar.
âYouâre too much,â the beastman growls.
Sebek jerks free and storms off the field, leaving you behind, crying, surrounded by their classmatesâ awkward comfort.
After everything you put me through,
I somehow still believe in you.
Idiot.
Idiot is the best word to describe him.
After the fiasco during flight class, Sebek had been given detention for five days, and now, grounded by Lord Malleus himself.
Not only did he shame himself in front of everyone, but he also drew his princeâs displeasure.
âFor lashing out at a child in public, you must reflect on your actions. Stay in the dorm during your detention.â
An ultimatum.
And so here he was, confined to Diasomnia, drowning himself in textbooks to make up for the classes heâd miss. He even borrowed notes from his classmates, refusing to let detention blemish his academic standing any further.
But on the third day, he caught a familiar silhouette at the corner of his vision.
You were hiding behind a wall, peeking into the common room where he sat reading. You probably thought you were subtle, but for a guard trained for protecting Malleus Draconia, even the flicker of a shadow was enough to draw attention.
The problem was, you have been standing there for nearly an hour, making no move to approach. A few students passed by and you hastily pressed a finger to your lips, forcing them to keep quiet. They looked between you and him, shrugged, and went on their way.
Sebek sighed. Again. Why did you always make him sigh?
âHow much longer are you planning to stay there?â he said without looking up.
You froze, then stepped out, looking sheepish.
He set his book aside and leaned back on the sofa, arms crossed. You fidgeted as you walked toward him.
âAre you okay?â you asked softly.
There you go again, worrying about others instead of yourself.
âI am fine,â he replied, clipped and cold.
âAre you lonely?â
He gave you a flat stare. âI am not.â
âCan I come tomorrow?â
âFor what?â
âCasual hang out?â
âNo.â
âOh, come on! You havenât come out in three days. Lilia told me youâre grounded by Malleus. Lol, what are you? a kid? haha. But anyway, Iâll come tomorrow.â
He groaned inwardly. You werenât going to back off. You never did.
âPlease, Sebek? I miss you, you know.â
And there it was, the final blow.
Sebekâs thoughts scattered. His ears burned red, and he tried to hide the twitch at the corner of his mouth behind his hand. You always knew exactly how to undo him.
âFine, whatever!â he barked, too loud.
Your face lit up instantly. âThere you go! Thatâs the Sebek I know. See you tomorrow!â
For the rest of his detention, you came to visit after school. Always with your notes, always smiling. The first day, you brought Grim. The next, the other first-years. Much to his annoyance, they filled the quiet common room with chatter and laughter.
Even Malleus, Lilia, and Silver joined in at times. And without realizing it, Sebek smiled too.
But I know in a week or so youâll fade away again.
And i wish that I cared. Hey, are you still there?
Good.
Maybe Iâm just not better than this, I havenât tried.
Maybe youâll finally choose me after you have more time.
âIs it true?â
You were startled when Sebek appeared before you without warning. You both stood in one of the quiet college courtyards, far from the main building, where the air was still and heavy with the scent of earth and magic.
âWhatâs true?â you asked, blinking in confusion. Yourhand paused mid-motion, brushing the fur of a resting beast by your side. He didnât even register what kind of creature it was, all he could see is you.
âYou,â he said, his voice trembling ever so slightly, âhaving a relationship with him.â
You froze. Then came a soft, weary sigh.
âOh.â
That word landed heavier than a slap.
He didnât know what he expected. Denial? surprise? hope? But not that quiet, resigned sound.
You turned to face him at last, your expression unreadable. Your eyes didnât shine the way they used to when they found him in the hallway, when you'd wave so eagerly just to hear him scoff and turn away.
âYes,â you said at last. âMe and him are dating.â
Silence.
He stood there, unblinking, trying to make sense of the words echoing in his mind.
He had known, deep down, that you liked him. It wasnât subtle. Your constant greetings, your persistence in joining group activities when he was involved, the way you'd sit near him in class and light up whenever he spoke. Even when he dismissed you, even when he snapped, youâd smile and say, âYouâre just tired, Sebek.â
And every time, heâd tell himself it was nothing. That you were just a foolish human who didnât understand boundaries, who couldnât possibly understand him.
Heâd told himself that fae and human could never mix, that it was better this way, that youâll get over it eventually.
Heâd convinced himself that keeping you at armâs length was protection, not cruelty.
But now, seeing the calm in your eyes where warmth used to be, he realized what heâd actually done.
You had waited. You had tried, again and again. Until the hope you carried for him had worn you down to exhaustion.
And when you finally stopped trying, someone else reached out to hold what he had so carelessly pushed away.
Sebekâs heart clenched. His chest burned. His throat felt raw, though he hadnât even spoken yet.
He could see it now, the faint sadness in your eyes, the hesitation in your smile. You still cared, but it wasnât the same. The light had dimmed.
He turned away before you could see the cracks forming in his composure. He didnât wait for you to say anything more.
He didnât need to. He didnât want to.
But as he walked off, your image stayed with him. The girl who once waited at his side, laughed at his outbursts, cried in secret when his words cut too deep. The girl who had loved him until you simply couldnât anymore.
It was his fault.
Would you have chosen him if he werenât a fae?
If heâd reached for you sooner, before prejudice built its walls?
Would you still be his if he had the courage to see you as his equal?
He will never know.
Maybe I blame my mother bleeding into my stride.
Maybe it was my father and his wandering eyes.
He thought it would be fine. After all those years spent mending invisible wounds, he should be fine. He could look you in the eyes just fine, even when his heartbeat still drummed against his ribs. He could hold a conversation just fine, even when his fingers still fidgeted against his shoes.
But when the invitation arrived in his hand that day, he wanted to scream.
So he left.
For the first time, he left Malleus alone without his guard. He vanished to a quiet cave hidden among the hills. And he cried.
He was seventeen again. That stupid boy too afraid to make a move, too proud to admit his heart. The same coward who stood by the sidelines and watched his world slip away piece by piece.
Your name looked so pretty printed on the colorful paper.
A shame the name before yous wasnât his.
For the longest time, he told himself he was fine. That you had succeeded. That you got everything you ever wished for. That you were happy, and that should be enough for him.
And so he cried.
He cried because you were happy. Because he loved you. Because he loved that you were happy.
Unaware of a silver-haired man quietly keeping watch by the caveâs entrance, crying softly along with him.
Iâll always be in your corner,
âCause I donât feel alive âtill Iâm burning on your backburner.
And I know that itâs sad that I settle for the backburner.
Originally, he hadnât planned to come today.
But this might be the last time he would ever see you. After today, heâd be transferred to a new region for field work. Malleus no longer needed his guard, or so he told himself.
Silver helped him hide his puffy eyes with a bit of magic. Normally, he wouldâve been mortified to ask for such a favor, but nothing about today was normal. He had thrown his pride away long ago when it came to you.
Your beautiful white gown swept gracefully across the floor as you walked down the aisle. A radiant smile never left your lips. Your eyes were fixed on the altar, on the man waiting for you with a wide, adoring grin.
The vows were said. The crowd cheered. His heart went numb.
He could hardly recall what happened afterward. He busied himself chatting with old friends heâd avoided for years just to avoid you. Ace. Deuce. Epel. Jack. He even exchanged words with Leona Kingscholar, who greeted him with that infuriating grin that stretched ear to ear. Some things never changed.
And then came the moment heâd been dreading all his life.
A heart-to-heart with you.
They wandered far from the crowd, into a quiet stretch of sand overlooking the ocean.
âHi.â
Your voice was so soft it was nearly a whisper. Sebek wanted to run. All the courage heâd built up over the years vanished at that single word. Though, technically, there were no windows for his courage to leap out of. It was an outdoor ceremony by the beach, after all. The kind of wedding you once dreamed of, back when you still loved him.
You smiled, that same gentle smile that haunted his dreams. âHow have you been? I havenât seen you in a while.â
âIâve been sent on field work far from here,â he answered, trying to return the smile.
âReally? Youâre not guarding Hornton anymore?â
âYou still call him Hornton?â
âWhy, yes. Fun fact, he was the first person I invited today. Lilia said he was so overjoyed that flowers bloomed for days at the castle.â
Sebek chuckled. He could picture that. Though Lilia and Silver hadnât told him anything, perhaps out of mercy.
âI thought you wouldnât come,â you said, your tone turning softer.
âHow could I not?â His voice almost broke. How could he, when this might be the last time heâd ever see you? The first and last time heâd see you in a wedding gown, even if you werenât walking toward him.
âIâll be transferred to a faraway land after today,â he admitted. âThis might be the last time we can talk like this.â
Your smile faltered. Your eyes dimmed with quiet sadness, and for a fleeting second, he thought you might cry.
âCanât you ask Malleus to move you somewhere closer? Somewhere safer? Iâm sure he would. Or should I talk to him?â
âNo, please donât.â He couldnât tell you that he was the one who asked for the reassignment.
The sorrow in your gaze almost made him waver. Who knew, after all this time, he was still a fool for you.
âDonât be sad,â he murmured.
âIâm losing one of my best friends again,â you said, voice trembling, âand youâre telling me not to be sad?â
He hesitated, then reached out to pat your head carefully so as not to ruin your perfect hair-do. âIâm sorry. I shouldnât make you cry on your special day.â
Your eyes glistened, and his own tears threatened to follow.
âDonât worry,â he whispered. âIâll always be around you, even when you canât see me.â
There were so many things left unsaid. Apologies. Regrets. The words I loved you that he no longer had the right to say. None of it mattered now. Not when you looked so breathtaking beneath the sunlight that he couldnât tear his eyes away.
For the first time, there was no regret. He had finally accepted the path he chose.
âMaybe,â he began, voice barely audible, âwhen we have another chance, when you and I donât have to lie.â
He turned to leave, carrying a quiet promise. Of another life, another world where they could hold hands without fear. Where they could face the ugliness of the world together and win.
âAnother universe.â
He stopped in his tracks. Turned. You were looking at him, eyes filled with regret and hope.
âFind me first.â
He couldnât stop the single tear that rolled down his cheek.
That was it.
A final blessing from the moon herself, his moon.
âI look forward to it,â he said softly.
Guess I wonât ever mind crisping up on your backburner,
As long as you still think of me.
Even years later, when you had a daughter who looked just like you, the little girl once told her mother that a kind green-haired âuncleâ helped her find her way home when she got lost.
And sometimes, postcards from distant continents would mysteriously appear in your mailbox. No name, just familiar handwriting and the faint scent of the sea.
He was still there.
I will always be around you, even when you canât see me.
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you confess to jade with one goal: to get rejected. things do not go according to plan.
tags/warnings: jade leech x reader (romantic), gn!reader, reader is yuu, swearing, set at the end of NRC year 1, confession crack, first date, reader is miraculously/momentarily a god at Dance Dance Revolution, not proofread cuz iâm lazy
a/n: so i DOUBLY made a liar of myself: i said iâd write a bunch a few weeks ago, didnât; and then said i wouldnât write for a while, then did. lifeâs still kicking my ass and i have midterms this week but iâm neglecting my responsibilities in favour of writing fanfic :D this one was actually meant to be the beginning of a wip request, but it was so long that i split it off and expanded it. thatâs maybe half the reason it's so winding yet virtually plotless ;-; anyways so this is basically a prologue to that wip, but iâll make it so that you can read either one as standalone :)
follow-up fic here :D
DO NOT FEED THIS TO AI.
word count: 3.2k
dividers by @/cafekitsune!
âIâm gonna do it,â you whisper.
âDonât do it,â your entire first-year friend group whispers back, ears picking up on your stupidity even beneath the drone of Crowleyâs long and winding year-end speech. They plead with you now more out of resignation than hope of persuasion. That ship has already sailed, and everyone knows it.
You eye the figure three rows ahead, clad in ceremonial uniform yet identifiable thanks to their towering height.
âI have toâŠâ you sigh dramatically.
The âitâ in question that you shouldnât do: confessing to Jade Leech, a sharp-toothed and sharper-witted eel with sketchy intentions and tendencies. It's a terrible decision that youâre unfortunately already firm on, but to be fair, this decision has been thoroughly deliberated. Your main reasons are as follows:
#1: You have a stupid crush on Jade Leech, arguably one of the worst people to have feelings for. Jade Leech is the type of person to leverage any crush for his benefit, let alone a crush on him. And confessing is the quickest way to get rid of your pesky feelings, something youâre very eager to do.
#2: After this, summer break will begin and school will be out of session. âDistance makes the heart grow fonderâ, as they say, and your feelings will absolutely compound if you donât confess now. The break works in your favour though, as you wonât have to deal with repercussions until September comes back around. Best case scenario, everyone will forget by the time you return to school. Worst case scenario, youâll at least get two months free of awkwardness and teasing. Which leads to:
#3: Jade will 100%, absolutely, undoubtedly reject you. Heâs the type of person who only makes choices that benefit him, and you have nothing to offer. And though humiliation sucks, a one-and-done micro-moment of mortifying rejection is a small price to pay for emotional freedom.
Itâs not that you want to confess to Jade Leech. Itâs that you have to.
So with that airtight reasoning in mind as the ceremony finally comes to a close, you rush through the sea of eager students, your destination not a where but a whom.
The moment heâs within reach, you grab his sleeve. âJade.â
He freezes; the crowd doesnât. Even Floyd and Azul vanish in the flow of people. Still, though students shove past you ceaselessly, you stand strong.
âPrefect?â
You realize youâre cooked when Jade turns to face you. His eyes are wide in shockâadorably soâand surprise is a rare expression to see on Jade. Itâs affecting you more than youâd like to admit.
âUm, could I talk with you?â you ask sheepishly, just as someone shoves you from behind. Luckily, you manage to right yourself before crashing straight into Jade, sparing yourself the extra embarrassment. âPreferably somewhere less busy?â
His expression morphs back into his usual: a coy, composed smile with eyes too scrutinizing for anyoneâs comfort.
âOf course.â You repress a smitten grin at the sound of his voice. Soon, you wonât have to do that consciously anymore, and that thought is exhilarating. âLetâs be on our way, then. Stay close to me, Prefect.â
And you obey, never once dropping your grasp of his sleeve so as to not lose him.
Itâs in the courtyard, beneath the apple tree, that Jade finally stops and you release his sleeve. With most students staying in the hallways and subjecting themselves to traffic jams by foot, only a sprinkling of smarter students pass through.
âWhat is it youâd like to tell me?â Jade asks, heterochromic eyes glimmering in the dappled sunlight. For a second, you almost forget that youâre here to be rejected.
Besides him, the scene isnât picture-perfect: trampled apple blossoms decay beneath your feet, a brawl has broken out in the hall nearby, and youâre coated in sweat from being smushed in the crowd earlier. Itâs pathetic and imperfect, which makes it perfect for your purpose.
You take a deep breath and brace for impact.
âUmâŠâ you start, looking anywhere but his perfect face. âWell, yâknowâŠâ
Jade doesnât rush you, doesnât even raise an eyebrow. Heâs perfectly patient.
âYou probably know this already, butâoh Sevens, Iâm regretting this even nowâso I⊠ah, fuck it.
âI have a crush on you,â you blurt.
âŠ
âŠ
âŠ
âDo it quickly, please,â you add once the silence stretches five seconds too long for your liking.
â...Do what quickly?â
Jadeâs seeming ignorance simultaneously baffles and infuriates you enough to make you look back up at him. The cunning smirk that you expect is nowhere to be found. In its place: pure, genuine confusion. Which confuses you.
âUh⊠reject me?â
âDid you not just confess that you liked me?â he questions slowly. âWhy do you want me to reject you?â
âWhy wouldnât you reject me?â you counter. âJust get it over with.â
And with that, the confusion washes from his face, and the composed smile youâd been expecting in the first place reappears.
âAnd if I were to decline? What would you do then?â
âThen Iâd be fucked!â you think aloud accidentally.
The cutest chuckle leaks from his lips and rattles your heart in your chest. You slap your hand over Jadeâs mouth before he can inflict more emotional damage on you.
âOya oya?â you hear muffled against your palm, Jadeâs eyes crinkling with mirth. âQuite forward of you~â
With your other hand, you hold an authoritative finger in his face. âStop it. Quit being charming and cute. Just turn me down, please.â
As you feel his lips pull into a sharp grin, your hand flinches away on the off chance that he bites you Ă la Floyd. But Jade is quicker, catching your retracting hand in his own.
âNo.â He says it firmly, a stark contrast with how gently he strokes the back of your hand with his thumb. âIâll see you soon, Prefect.â
Jade leaves you with a pat on the head, a rejected rejection, and a mess of thoughts and feelings. Somehow, in all your overoptimistic deliberation, youâd neglected to take into account your crushâs stubbornness and affinity for playing the long game.
Kicking at the wilted apple blooms under your soles reveals the small mushrooms sprouting underneath.
Fuck.
Deuce is the first of your friends to find out how unsuccessful you were in your mission, him and his mom having very generously offered you and Grim a place to stay for the summer.
âYouâre cooked,â Deuce helpfully comments while youâre settling into the spare room. Grim, on the other hand, has already crashed on the floor. âJadeâs totally stringing you along!â
You groan your entire soul out your throat. âI know.â
âJust DM him and reject him yourself!â
âmMMmmmmâŠâ you whine. âFiiiineâŠâ You unlock your phone for the first time since passing through the mirror at NRC and open the Magicam app. For all the mental and emotional turmoil that Jade put you through today, you donât expect him to spare you the satisfaction of replying to your DMs right away.
Well, it's not the first time you've been wrong about him.
Jade messaged you first. 42 minutes ago, to be exact.
Good evening, dear Prefect :) Where would you like to go for our first date?
You place your phone face-down on the dresser and place yourself face-down on the floor.
You lie there for a good minute before Deuceâs concern catches up to him. âUh, PrefectâŠ? You good?â
You flop about like a fish. âuUurGghhhHhh.â
âWait, is he blackmailing you? If he is, Iâll teach him a lesson.â Bless Deuceâs sweet delinquent soul. âJust tell me. Itâs okay.âÂ
âNo, itâs not that,â you groan into the hardwood before lifting your head. âItâs worse. Heâs asking me on a date.â
âWHAT?!â Deuce practically screams. âHeâs totally playing you! Or else heâs gonna bring you up a mountain and weâll never find your body! Tell him no!â
âYeah, I know,â you sigh. âOkay.â
Jade, I'm gonna have to reject your rejection of my rejection. Sorry for bothering you. Have a good summer break đ
âDone,â you update. âI think heâs literally in the ocean so heâs probably gonna leave me on sentâoh Sevens he read it!â
Deuce leaps across the room to see your screen.
âOh fuck, heâs typing!â you shriek, causing your friend to glance around warily and Grim to flip over in his sleep. âOh shit, oh fuck.â
You shove your phone into Deuceâs hands. âW-What? What do you want me to do?â he sputters.
âJustâ! If he sends something bad,â you instruct, âdon't tell me what it is, just block him.â
âOkay, I can do that.â
You wait in charged silence for what feels like an eternity. Then:
âPrefect?â Deuce treads carefully.
ââŠwhat.â
âWhat counts as âbadâ?â And slowly, he turns the screen toward you.
Itâs a single sentence.
Even if I want to date you as well?
Yeah, that's bad.
Really bad.
Your first date is at a summer fair in a coastal town of the Kingdom of Roses.
You try to bail on Jade, really, you do! Or well, you try to convince yourself to bail on him.
Tell him you donât like sleazy schemers like him, it advises while you thoughtfully pick out your cutest outfit.
Say you got food poisoning and canât meet him; the thought rattles through your mind on the 1-hour bus ride to the date spot.
Even as you arrive at your destination, your self-preservation endures. Even at the sight of Jade in a casual t-shirt and jeans, checking his phone for messages from you, Itâs not too late to turn around!
Unfortunately though, your heart has been a whole lot louder than your mind lately. That fact becomes especially clear when Jade spots you: his eyes gain a twinkle to them as they meet yours, effectively shutting down every blaring alarm in your head.
âHello, Prefect. You look lovely.â
âUm, thanks,â you respond choppily. âSo do you.â
And because youâre in the palm of his hand and he knows it, Jade holds out said palm for you to take. âShall we?â
Itâs your Cinderella moment; of course you take it. If youâre this deep into a bad decision, you might as well go all in and enjoy yourself before the clock strikes twelve.
The date is⊠really nice.
You make pleasant conversation. About your hobbies, about your summer plans, about the shenanigans of the past school year. You tell him about the summer job you got to earn your keep at Deuceâs, and Jade tells you about the mesocosm heâd made with flora from Sageâs Island. Heâs voluble when it comes to his interests, and youâre equally receptive when your guard is down. Together, youâre peak yappers.
âAre you hungry?â Jade asks when you (try to) subtly eye the food stalls.
You chuckle bashfully. âJust a little. It smells really good.â
âGood. Iâm quite hungry myself,â he replies. âIf you donât mind finding us a seat, Iâll be back in a moment.â
And so you plop yourself down at a clean table for two, and wait for your date to return. With little else to do, you pull out your phone for the first time since meeting up. The notifications youâre met withâboth the nature and the quantityâgive you whiplash.
96 missed calls, 114 texts from Deuce, 201 from Ace, 1049 from your first-year group chat and counting. All spread across the past two hours, all with the gist of: âARE YOU STILL ALIVE???â
You simply open your camera app, stick out your tongue and shut your eyes in a play-dead face, and snap a selfie. Into the group chat it goes!
baymax!: Prefect! Hi!
ass: oh tahnk sevens he hasnt killed them yet
doos: Are you in danger????? Do you need help????????
đ: damn i lowk thought deuce was lying about you going out with jade lmao
You: no deuce iâm chilling dw heâs actually super sweet
got that DAWG in him: You donât know what heâs thinking. Call us if you feel somethingâs off
âWAKASAMAAAâ: DO NOT let him take you to a secondary location.
You: guys iâm fine lol
[ass started a video call]
You: bruh what do you want
ass: just pick up dude
ass: gotta make sure
When you do pick up, everyoneâs already there. âHiii~â you greet.
Your friends collectively sigh in relief. And then they start drilling you with questions.
âWHY???â
âDid he make you sign an NDA? Or some other life-binding contract?â
âHe hasnât poisoned you or anything, right? Donât eat anything he gives you!â
âGuys, itâs fine,â you laugh. âHeâs getting us food now.â
âDonât let your guard down! Thatâs how heâll get you.â
âOh Sevens, theyâre cooked. Heâs stringing them along.â
âYou sure have a lot of faith in me, huh?â you sigh. âItâs just one date, guys. Weâre not dating.â
âIs that so?â Jadeâs voice croons from behind you. You scream. Your friends scream. Jade chuckles, laying out a feast-worthy spread of street food onto the table.
Your stomach drops at the sheer amount of stuff he bought. âJadeâthis is so much. How much did this cost?â
âItâs my treat,â he assures you quietly, while your friends yell at you through the screen not to fall into his loan shark trap. âDonât worry about it.â
âPASS US TO THE EEL,â Ace articulates loudly, but Jade gently takes the phone from your hand himself. âListen here, Leech,â the redhead threatens. âIf you do anything to the Prefectââ
âYouâll be sleeping with the fishes,â Deuce finishes, âand not literally.â
âOf course,â Jade smiles politely, and you groan in pure mortification. âRest assured that I have no ill intentions with the Prefect. Iâll do nothing against their will.â
âThat means nothing! Itâs you, so theyâre gonna be willing either way!â
âACE!â you scold, snatching your phone back from Jade. âAppreciate the concern guys, but Iâm fine. BYE.â You hang up and bury your face in your hands, quietly screaming. Jade laughs, whether at your friendsâ passion or your mortification or both, youâre not 100% sure.
âYour friends care very deeply about you,â he giggles, finally taking the seat across from you.
âYeah. Um, just ignore everything they said. Theyâre really spirited,â you plead. âSorry about that. I didnât think youâd be back so soon.â
âNo need to apologize,â Jade reassures you. âI find it very endearing.â
âI donât believe you.â
âItâs the truth.â
A particularly loud growl cuts you off before you can refute him again. From a stomach. Your stomach.
âPlease, dig in,â Jade invites, unfazed. âI apologize for keeping you waiting.â
Despite everything, your embarrassment quickly dissipates as you two work through the buffet, exchanging reviews for each dish as you go. Even when youâve eaten your fill, Jade is still ravenous. Itâs impressive how a cute boy like him can have such a boundless appetite and daintily pat his mouth with a napkin like he didnât just effortlessly Kirby-inhale three times as much as you did.
Itâs annoyingly charming.
Bellies full, you slip back into easy conversation, and before you know it, the sun has nearly fully set. Lingering copper sunlight skips across the rippling surface of the sea, tinting the town with warmth (as if your rose-tinted glasses werenât enough).
âThe last bus back to Clock Town leaves in 40 minutes,â Jade alerts you. âWould you like to check out the rest of the stalls before we part ways?â
âSure, letâs do that!â You slip your hand into the crook of Jadeâs elbow as he offers it, the gentleman. âWe still havenât seen the vendors or the game stalls.â
You browse the pop-up vendors selling magical trinkets, handmade charms, jewellery, all sorts of wares, but nothing catches your eye nor Jadeâs. And as you walk through the area of game stalls, you begin to think that you might have the same luck here, too.
Except a gasp from Jade stops you in your tracks. Like you, heâs equally frozen to the spot, but his gaze is trained on one particular game stall: what looks to be⊠Dance Dance Revolution? Well, to be more specific, itâs not the game that entrances him, but the prize.
Itâs a jumbo mushroom plush. Like, you-sized-level jumbo.
âWanna try?â you ask him.
It takes a moment for Jade to come back to his senses. âAh, no, no need.â But the stiffness in his posture betrays his reluctance.
âCâmon,â you coax, tapping your fingers on his elbow. âLetâs do it.â
Unfortunately for Jade, his two years of experience with legs never prepared him for the impossible gauntlet that is Dance Dance Revolution. Five seconds into the game, it becomes clear to everyone that Jadeâs dream of winning the mushroom is nothing more than that: a mere fantasy.
Well, not if you can help it. The second he steps off the platform, youâre up. Failure is not a possibility, let alone an option.
Your legs move unlike ever before. Even as youâd run for your life from overblot monsters, your legs never had this speed. Even as you were training for your VDC audition, your legs never had this level of coordination and precision. The omnipotent Spirit of Dance Dance Revolution has possessed your body.
And so, naturally, you win the game. The stall ownerâs jaw is dropped, the passersby are applauding, and your date stares at you with so much wonder that you chuckle a little.
Jade is so adorably awestruck when you pass the mushroom to him, you almost forget how bad of an idea he is. Well, either way, at the moment, heâs perfectly harmless with both his arms wrapped around the giant stuffed stalk.
âThank you,â he whispers, more tenderly than youâd ever thought possible for him.
âItâs my pleasure. Youâre the one who bought me an all-you-can-eat buffet earlier, anyways.â
âFufufu, Iâd told you it was my treat,â he hums. âThere was no need to repay me.â
âItâs alright, Iâd rather not leave with debt anyways.â You do, after all, know that being indebted to the trio from Octavinelle is bad news, regardless of how sweet Jade seems. âSpeaking of, my bus leaves in 10 minutes, so I should probably get going.â
âIâll walk you to the bus stop, then.â
And so, as your bus approaches in the distance, your Cinderella moment comes to a close. Both of you got this date out of your systems, so now Jadeâll find you boring and leave you alone, and now you can die knowing what itâs like to go on a date with Jade Leech. Allâs well that ends well, right?
Except, you find yourself thinking that it wouldnât be so bad to miss your bus if it meant spending a little more time with Jade. The next bus comes at 6 in the morning; you know that would be a seriously bad idea. But you also think that if Jade asked you to, youâd still do it.
So in a last-ditch attempt to save your soul, you ask again, âCan you reject me now?â
He laughs. âNo.â
âHm. Worth a shot.â
âInstead, actuallyâŠâ Jade starts, his hold tightening around the mushroom, âwould you be interested in doing this again sometime?â
The deliciously familiar scenario of the reversal of powers. Here you are among the gaggle of scientists marveling at three specimens of the previously fabled Merpeople. Two violent eel-like types and a single incredibly shy octopus type. In the beginning you blend in with the other unsuccessful scientists, each trying their various methods and experiments only to find their perplexing demeanors to be unwilling to participate. Every other freak of nature theyâd contained was on land and susceptible to the sting of an electric shock. But electricity and water donât mix! So the investors can only whine and huff when the scientists can only do so much.Â
Of course alternative forms of punishment are looked intoâa closed tasing collar, light starvation, removing of decor. But the thing that all options require is contact and that could not be done without their giant tanks being filled with the blood of poor workers with no family to report them missing.Â
âLetâs just do what we can teamâŠI donât know how much longer weâll be babysitting these circus freaks.â
Seemingly at an impossible obstacle, many scientists have begun to simply laze about overly analyzing the few samples retrieved at their capture. You, the same as all your peers, are no different one day walking along side the observational window of the tank. Eyes carelessly looking into the artificial cobalt of the salty water, you donât expect to make eye contact with the heterochromatic eyes of the Merman. After all, the specimens never once respond to anything beyond the glassâŠit was deducted that they didnât understand the concept of a window thus they ignored it.Â
But itâheâwas looking at you. Smiling at you.
Following your steps as you walked along the hall.
That wasâŠkind of new.
Naturally your feet stopped as to admire the living fairytale come to life, expecting to see the mer dash away. It stays. What you recognize as a human smirk decorates their face they halt their swimming, treading easily with their tail as they mirror your stature.Â
This suggested obvious awareness.
Obvious sentience.
Which wasnât considered at all among your peers or the hunters who caught them.Â
Unironically you leap for joy. Turning to see that the Mer is still there, you brain leaps to other shows of intelligence.
Now this may have been an error on your part but you tilt your head to the side. A playful gesture mirrored by some humanâs greatest companions. Yet they follow and when you excitedly run off to report to your peers they stay just that way.Â
âI know you might feel prone to sleep, but I think you should at least try to keep the dreaming out of our reports.â
It might be jealousyâŠor real disbelief but they arenât convinced. Your head scientist excited you still dream and urging you to keep your head down only a month more and this investor will disregard any ethical benefits from these creatures. You may nod your head but you were never going to listen.Â
If these creatures were sentient than itâd be a great disservice not to properly accommodate them.Â
âAlright my friend letâs see what you can do!â
So you start with puzzles walking along that same route. Once the mer stops the incessant circling of their massive tank they come to the window, interestingly showing off your mRubix cube. Solving it, you show it off before tossing a duplicate into the tank. Granted you had to slip past armed guards to reach the surface but instead of leaping at you with rows of teeth. Instead the Rubix cube is grasped and dragged under. Your mer playing with it for hours before they toss the puzzle out the surface of their tank.Â
Seeing the slight interest of your peers you continue. Continuing to give more and more puzzles to the single mer, eagerly awaiting their visible joy at a new one. It isnât long before the glass of the tank on the other side is being banged against. The other eel-mer pouts until you gather that they want a puzzle too. It isnât much longer till your graced with the rare appearance of a tentacle against the glass, practically begging for the same thing.
Over the moon, you delight in their liveliness. Soon after attempting to sign and even beginning to speak to them directly. Your revival of the project has dividends pouring in; scientists following your lead and realizing that incentives other than food do work for them.Â
In this new age, you are director of subject well-being. In charge of keeping them compliant and willing for tests. Consistently aiding your fellow scientists when it comes to properly handling your new friends subjects. Surprisingly not everyone knows that the mers have preferences when it comes to rewards. But thatâs what youâre here for.
It isnât long before you able to have full- on conversations but the conditions to initiate such a thing must be perfect. The cameras canât have any sound. It must only be their Subject Well-Being Director a.k.a you. And on these days said director is supposed to feed them.Â
The stipulations were detailed by the illusive octopus. Which was all stipulated on a slightly damp notebook sent by a lone tentacle in the face of the head scientist when he was especially urgent to hear them speak.Â
But routines hardly ever stay the sameâŠ.especially when investors influence the scientic process. New scientists, heavily armed security, and seedy advisors who just adore peeking over your soldier when you talk the mers through blood-draws.
At the same time that they benefit in engagement as deeply thinking mers, thereâs too much push-back when you argue some of the policies of their capture. Leveling their brilliance of humans the ethic wrongness convicts you to advocate. But whether itâs for plausible deniability or lack of understanding your ignored on that front. Further putting you on the outskirts of your team as things start to change.
âAhem we just want a chance for the new blood to try this out.â
âItâs not anything against you we just want to give everyone the chance to look at our special subjects.â
Yeah, like you believed the new-blood with a perky chest and rose-red lips was actually interested in seeing if they could facilitate a more positive relationship with the subjects. It didnât help that the biggest sponsors name was proudly on their lab coat. So youâre honest with your subjectsâŠ.is that an obstacle in the scientific processâŠmaybeâŠ.but you figure your subjects would appreciate the warning.
Seeing as it was such a huge failure youâre no longer threatened by scientists who hope to stimulate their own positive relationship with the specimens but instead those who are hoping for something closer to negative.Â
âDr. (Y/n) this is General Kater heâll be instilling the necessary discipline that our specimens need.â
Ignoring the decline in deaths since youâve established contacts the increasing nosy investors want to capitalize and âgently askingâ is just not good enough for them. Their assessment, made after glancing at the reports is that âgood cop, bad copâ strategy will be best to get what they want. Conceding with you that they are in fact sentientâŠjust not enough to be freed.
âDonât be alarmed, gentlefish as your commander in chief, I only want the best from you and no less. Your usual doctorâs going to handle your petty testsâŠbut when theyâre not youâll be with me. And I will be working your mermaid***** until your pretty little scales fall off!â
Itâs hard to watch the General assault the water with a device that screeches loudly and has them all writhing in pain. Forced to perform like circus animals when the General wants to show their athletic capabilities. More than ever the tiny voice within you screams that you must help them in some kind of way.Â
When you finally do get to examine them, it only nails the head in further that the time you have to salvage these subjectsâno your patients is coming to a close. Even with their green and purple skin the bruises are still dark as the bags under their eyes. Citing these signs of distress mean nothing to your superiors who are much too invested in the generalâs vision.Â
âIâm going to get you guys out of here. Just hang on for me.â
Legally you canât do much of anything but you know quite a few groups who can. Anonymously contacting the notable activist groups you know with some life-changing info. Of course you know better than to give your card and details instead helping an already exploitable hole they just didnât discover yet. You canât really communicate it to your patients considering your sessions are recorded but you do your best to give your best wishes.
âI just wanted to say that if you do ever get home. It was an honor getting to learn about you all, thank you.â
âSo sentimentalâŠare you planning on leaving?â
âNo Jade. I think as long as you guys are around Iâm not going anywhere.â
When it does happen, it genuinely shocks you. Itâs months after your anonymous tips that the activists make their move. By the time you arrive to the lab, youâll find that the tanks are empty and shattered multiple lasered holes in the interior of the building. Itâs alarming as it suggests such heavy artillery was used to break them out that even the most eager rebels would have trouble getting their hands on.
âBlast those hippies! Iâll have to organize my elite squad, weâre tracking them down and making them pay!â
While the troops are rallied and the rest of the lab is spent bustling with anxiety, you hand in your two weeks. When your boss whoâd waved you off before listening, who promoted you to a director, who hired the general with confidence asks you why; you sigh and hold your head.
âThis project was already developing in a direction I didnât like. I think if they went willingly or not its a sign that this getting much bigger than I ever expected.â
âI hope if we find them again youâll be open to consulting.â
âMaybe.â
Thus youâre back to the civilian life as you watch the news about the companyâs unfortunate standing and lost investments. Including some minor evidence of the mythical creatures they couldâve made or discovered. It makes you complacent as you go through life entirely unsuspecting of whatever truly became of your patients until thereâs a desperate knock on your door.Â
When you open it, thereâs a battered man on your doorstep. Out of breath and looking desperately with you.Â
âPlease youâre the one who helped us! HELP US with THEM please!â
When he fully collapses at your feet, you drag him to your couch and lightly apply ice to the wounds you find. Eventually he wakes. Startled and frantic he refuses to sit still and instead demands you come with him. Usually youâd hesitate to listen, thinking this is some outrageous scam. But the dark clothes they wear, the puncture wounds edging the bruises, stunned horror frozen on their face even when they sleep. It looks much too familiar to be a random animal attack.
So you get in their car, with fake plates, and suspicious mileage. Not protesting even as the car turns into the forest and you bounce along with the car on this unbeaten path. As you pull into a previously cordoned off lake, you finally speak up.
âA lake?! Donât you know theyâre all saltwater species.â
He scoffs,âYeah the problem is we couldnât make it to the sea.â
Before you can ask more youâre finally at the edge of the lake where there are torn clothes and abandoned equipment. Although you canât spot a single bloodstain the smell of the lake permeates with must that suggested that the innards of the lake had made their way past the dock. None of it bode well. You slowly unlocked the door, stepping out of the truck. Expecting your chauffeur to join you; you're shocked by their desperate effort to close the door you stepped out of.Â
âArenât you coming?â
âAre you kidding? Iâm not getting any closer to those monsters. Iâll be parked closer to the road.â
You want to reprimand him but who can blame him. Youâve witnessed decorated military men scuttle away like lambs after coming in contact with your patients. Itâs honestly a miracle that this guy is willing to continue the mission, that is if it wasnât a lie.
Even without the fear of you being attacked like these unfortunate activists it still makes you nervous to stand alone at the mouth of the lake. Debating between calling out or putting a hand in the water you figure knowing them itâs better to sit and wait. So thatâs what you do even as the sun goes down and your eyes droop.Â
âYou really shouldnât be falling asleep in a place like this.â
The sentence infiltrates your psyche before youâve truly awoken. The memory of that harmonious baritone behind a jagged maw. The stench of salt burning your nostrils feeling all too real you open your eyes to see them. Bioluminescence shining against the abyss of the lake forcing your gaze to focus on the dangling light for prey.Â
A neon iris deceptively close.
A string of violet reflections showing off the swirling suckers of spiraled limbs their center vaguely showing a figure all too familiar to you.Â
Itâs like a reunion, to ask how their faring, about their escape met with their casual responses and snickers about the mess they left behind. You hesitate to bring up the fate of those whoâve helped them. To question in their very coherent opinion why theyâve committed to a massacre.Â
âI was hungry.â
âThey made themselves easy targets.â
âSomething feels off.â
You scold them unabashedly. Slipping into old routines you canât help but reprimand their impulse control. Whether it was within their nature or a side-effect of their capture their control over their actions didnât always align with their higher-thinking capabilities. It was why your old boss negated your observations about their sentience. They still snapped at the fake bloodied hand thrust into their enclosure. They all relentlessly chased the live fish released to them. They all still went for the Generalâs neck when given the chance although the punishment for such an action may mean a missed meal.
But as you convinced them to reenter the moving tanks, their reactions really called into question just what was going on here. The resources this group had, the turn out of hundreds of people, and the transparency of knowing just where you lived. Azul was right. This was off. But what could you do? Never in a million years could you afford the resources necessary to transport three massive mystical creatures that desperately needed the conditions of the ocean to survive.Â
So you do something you would have usually advised against when they were in your care you drop a screwdriver into an awaiting tentacle. Its a wordless agreement for a plan B. As you help this rebel load them onto a truck that arrives a little while later.Â
Again an 18 wheeler casually coming up to this offroaded area to accept the containers and take it further out deceptively in the direction of a nearby ocean.Â
âSo question,â you decide to probe this ârebelâ a bit more.âWhy are you willing to do this after so many of your friends have died?â
âWell itâs right thing to do theyâre far from home right?â
That wasnât a strong enough reason and the pit in your stomach grows as the truck stops at a private bay. Still they begin unloading the tanks, having them lined up to release but thereâs a moment when the trucker, the injured rebel, and a few others who joined from the road.
âWhat are you waiting for? Why donât you just open it please.â
They all become really quiet.
Then another car pulls up and the person that steps out is definitely not an activist.Â
You donât recognize the slick back hairstyle with a suit but you did recognize the pin on their suit.
Its the logo of the rival company of your previous employer.
âEvening care to go for a ride with me?â
The tone of the crew shifts and suddenly there are a lot more people who are visibly armed. Youâre ushered onto a small boat as the containers are finally prepped to be opened.Â
âWhy do I need to be on the boat for their release Iâd be happy to let you all take it from here.â
The idea was to get them to let you go of course to run to your old employers with some harrowing info. But it seems like the man in the tailored suit wasnât going to allow that as he pointed a gun into your side.
âNow now donât you want to see the finale of all your hard work?â The mocking tone of his voice makes you almost as unsettled as the gun pointed at you. Forced to be led beside him you canât do much of anything as he takes your phone and crushes it.Â
âHey you wake them up,â he beckons a passing agent, who pulls off the tarps on their tanks and bangs their gun against the glass. Earning a hiss from the eels, their attention is immediately brought to you and the man holding you to his side.
âIf you donât mind we figured we would escort you home.â
Tanks shifted into the water they abruptly opened, allowing them to rush into the ocean along with the water. Logically they should have left at this point in time yet when the water leaves the tank you see two heads with multi-colored gaze half-way emerge.
âGreat so glad youâve decided to comply,â he hauls you into the deck below flanked by two armed agents of his that descend into the lower deck with you. As youâre brought lower you can hear some of what this guy has to say,âwonderful, I knew you all are intelligent enough to reason. Not to mention your soft spot for a cerain someoneââ
You miss the rest, as the door to the upper deck shuts. Forced to watch the gps and digital map marked with different incidents that suggest the existence of merman.Â
When the yacht lurches into movement you can hear the walkie talkie on one of the technicians fizzle to life. âTheyâre taking us to the heart letâs go.â
Forced to silently sit, you can only hope that theyâre defying the best they can. Considering youâve searched your memory for just who was leading this operation. Even at your old job there were whispers of your competitorâs ruthlessness. Commissioned by other governments and underground crime lords they had something rumored as a White Wolf. A hitman thatâs willing to clean up anything for their employers unbothered for taking the fall they were someone known to never cross paths with. Especially if you planned on surviving.Â
âCome on bait weâre at the nest.â Those words awaken you as your shaken from sleep. Still groggy you let him link arms with you again and lead you up the stairs. Looking around, you found that the entrance to this ânestâ was a random spot in the ocean nothing for the naked eye. If there was something youâd be none the wiser. Leaning over the edge as much as the Wolf would allow you looked for them. For any sign of them. Finding nothing.
âWhere are they?â
The Wolf turns to you as if remembering that you werenât actually a piece of bait. As if remembering it in real time he looks you up and down with a grody once over,âWent under apparently. Says that itâs here.â
You look to the deep dark depths again, finding nothing out of the ordinary to suggest otherwise,âSo what does that mean for me?â
He holds you tighter, trapping you into the railing ahead, letting his other hand brush at the nape of your neck. Naturally you shiver eliciting a delighted giggle from the man, âWell I was going to shoot you and leave you with them but I think we can find a place for you at Future Co. Especially if youâre willing to work magic with the next batch of fishboys.â
The nonchalance at which he speaks makes your hands tremble. He doesnât bother hiding his demented chuckling as he clasps his hands with your own. âSo skittish, you musta remembered who I am eh?â
You donât bother nodding, instead finding it very interesting to look at the unrippling water. Suddenly you feel the heat and minty freshness of his breath on your ear, âThen I hope this little bunnyâs not going to try swimming, right?â
You nod and he laughs again.Â
Thereâs a wetness on your cheek dripping onto your coat.
Wiping it away it didnât occur to you that you started to cry.Â
Hostage situations were really so much more stressful than anything you were dealing with.
âWeâre here.â
The voice stops anything else the White Wolf mightâve said. Instead incurring a much wider smile from the man as he inspects the head heâs interacting with, âWhereâs your buddy? The one that looks like you?â
You could hear the bored shrug before you looked. âHe went home. Duh.â
The âmatter of factâ tone makes the man beside you frown. It makes you smile, you know that was Floyd.
âI see.â He tentatively looks to the water.âSo itâs right below here? The whole nest?â
âYup!â
âWonderful.âÂ
Without a moments notice the White Wolf reaches for the device on his hip before pressing a button. Suddenly the revving of multiple boats is heard from the horizon highly armed speeding boats arrive unceremoniously divers already dressed and armed with harpoons jumping into the water and sinking below. The White Wolf waves and turns tucking you along, aiming to go to the lower deck until Floyd speaks up,âHey you made a deal with us.â
The White Wolf stops.Â
âI didâŠ.didnât I?â
The question rings with so much attitude that you start to tremble again. Maneuvered back onto the deck of the ship you await to learn just what this deal was.
âSaid Iâd toss you your doctor didnât I?â
Floyd doesnât respond which isnât a good sign. Even in the past times you spoke whenever you didnât hear Floyd something was happening and usually it wasnât good.
âWell here they are!âÂ
You are in the air before you know it. Launched over the railing and slapping unceremoniously into the water. Naturally you start to tread half expecting Floyd to wrap around you, like in the past. When you were first establishing contact you kept reprimanding him for doing that exact thing.Â
âAwww why canât I carry the little shrimp youâre just so tiny!â
You forget what you said. Something about the integrity of the experiment. In truth it just made you realize how small you were in comparison to them and it felt so belittling. But now you couldnât hope for anything less than that.Â
But he wasnât grabbing you and instead you werenât treading you were flailing.
The shock of the depth impacting your swimming.Â
Not to mention your missing mer-friend.
With a tight grip on the back of your coat you felt yourself being pulled up out of the water. As you slip to the floor over the railing you quickly rise to see where Floyd was only to realize the disturbing reason why he didnât come.
He writhing. Giant tail flinging about above and below the surface as he tightly held his hands over his ears. He was screaming before sending a scathing glare at you.
No not at you.
Behind you.Â
At the White Wolf holding a gun of a similar design as the Generalâs.
âYeah now I upheld my part. Best get running fishboy the calvaries here!âÂ
The ships all seem to beep with an activating hum, guns raisning and being directed towards the water. Recognizing the design you shout,âFloyd go, theyâre going to do it to everyone!â
He does exactly that dipping below the surface.
The White Wolf laughs as he hooks the gun over his shoulders,âWow got that one on a leash donât ya doctor?â
You donât respond already standing with your hands raised as you head below the deck, the routine well established and the other gun in his hand making the message loud and clear. Just because an unspeakable act was committed you couldnât react, not yet.Â
So you sat obediently while the White Wolf received information. Casually communicating about how many theyâd gather today and how many they tagged. Apparently they some how had access to all the information you collected during your time at the company. I more compelling question for how they got so much of your direct notes on their care. Your interest peaked as you casually peered over a technicianâs shoulder,âare thosemy doodles?â
It was almost enough to bring a laugh as you watched these people hyper-analyze your chicken-scratch notes like they were ancient hieroglyphics. The technician looked at you like youâd spoiled a complicated movie. Before looking to the Wolf who did not look amused.Â
But what was it if not something to laugh at that they were having so much trouble. Relaxed you rose from your spot and took the binder evaluating your own vital notes to the ones they had made.Â
âAnything to say about that doctor?â
The Wolfâs words couldâve been interpreted as a challenge of authority but instead you took it as an invitation. Flipping through the binder you go back to the page that has your doodles,âThese arenât anything to write home about, genuinely my own interpretation of some possibly other types of merpeople but Hank in biology doesnât think so.â
Did it feel wrong to kiss-up so quickly sure but experience with your past employers wasnât much different. The only difference really being that they had guns on their belts. Until your patients can hopefully get away you vould at the very least ensure youâd be around for what ever came next.
The Wolf snickered to himself,âSee theyâre going to be a great with us.â
BAM into the side of the boat knocking you and everyone inside to the ground. When you open your eyes again thereâs water inside the cabin, a few inches sloshing through your coat and face. Looking around you find that none of the technicians you were with were in the room except for one whoâs cold to the touch.Â
You stand rubbing at the small throbbing lump on your forehead before succumbing to the listing of the boat; leaning into itâs side to the door to the deck. The sun is setting by now and with the waning visibility you spy whatâs attacking the boat. Giant black and purple tentacles that are taking on and scooping and squeezing the agents one by one.Â
The screams filling the air are continuous the crunching of bones and falling bodies from impossibly high slapping fatalling into the water below. Its a massacre on teetering boats, two tentacles dedicated to the sinking of the abandoned vehicles.
âKEEP FIRING DONâT LET UP!â
Itâs the White Wolf. No longer on the original yacht but on a blow up speed boat with brightlights he leads the charge on agents in similar rides. Still holding the sound guns no longer has slicked hair and has abandoned his suit for the shirt beneath it. Clutching your ears the sound of bullets firing along with the sound weapon itâs all so overwhelming. Overwhelming enough to fall to the railing as the boat lurches again. Hands wet and slipping you find yourself fighting gravity as the boat tilts into the water. Rain or water dripping from the tentacles you canât tell falling on your face and blinding your vision.Â
Blinking the water out of your eyes to the best of your abilities you try your best to climb higher. Though youâre met with a terrible realization as your arms fail you, your hands slipping from their initial grip.Â
âAck!â
You feel something pinch in your shoulder. Something loosens and you canât push past the pain fast enough to grab the railing; tumbling to the sinking side of the ship you were on. You donât bother hiding your screams certain that you would not be heard by the battling parties. Splashing into the water you do your best to swim despite your arm. Sparing a glance at the White Wolf and the majority of the tentacles your only goal is to get away, searching among the sinking wreckage for something to help you float.Â
âI got them!â
Like an attack personalized for you, you are grabbed by the arm youâre certain has dislocated. Casually hoisted into the belly of one of the speed boats, you donât get a chance to look up until the nozzle of a gun is on your cheek. Forcefully pushing into your teeth you hardly lift your head to look at the tentacles slowing their attacks. Raising as if on command a gigantic vibration shakes all the boats. A terrible hum emanating from the sea and making everyone pause.
âSir look!âÂ
An agent point to an illuminated spot, the water bubbling with waves that foretell something large coming to the surface. The nozzle on your cheek lessens as the one holding it strays from you staring at whatâs come to the surface.
Itâs Azul.Â
10 times greater than the already large octopus merman. Alight with silver eyes and everything you donât think youâve ever seen him smile so big as he rises out the water with a vicious cackle.Â
âAWWW I HAVE MY HANDS UP, DONâT DO ANYTHING BAD!â
The sadistic smile he makes while casually raising his humongous hands, the mocking in his tone oozing with a terrible confidence. Being addressed by the titan-like merman the agent above you recenters his aim back into your head.
âD-donât do anything or Iâll shootââ
Before he can finish annunciating his threat, the violent tearing of the boat below you, has him falling through. Not alone and pulled under by the familiarly darkened eel wrapping around his body, you are left trying to piece together just who you saw. But with half the boat missing the rest quickly deflating you find yourself slipping to the darkened murkiness of the waters.
Still in pain you tread, the same mission as before booming in your head something compels you to look back at the White Wolf. In a different position and a gun aimed heâs not pointing it at the enlarged Azul, heâs pointing at you. Planning to silently off you before the massive monster notices.
PTOO!
Itâs funny now that you think about it. That a bullet travels so quickly with such force that itâll make itâs mark. Funny that water lessens the blow and still you feel the warmth leaving your body like nothing you ever experienced.Â
Less focused on fighting you hold just below your chest, where the bullet must be. Deliriously choosing to stop the most worrisome for a dying scientist. You canât hear like you used to and your eyelids have never felt heavier. Azulâs face perfectly comes into your vision, sad and full of tears you wish you could comfort him.
With a passing thought, you promise to comfort him after your nap.
A long healthy nap.
When you awoke the first thing you gather is the ache below your chest. Your hands naturally running your hand over the throbbing space to find bandages. Gauze wrapped around your torso itâs tightly wound, almost suffocating if it werenât for what mustâve been pulled out of you.Â
Pulled out�
Pulled out.
Pulledâ-Oh my stars, you were shot.
Sitting up with great unease you find yourself on a soft mattress, scooching to the head rest you finally take a look around. Taking in what looks like some tropical paradise with walls made of bamboo and a roof made of wood and palms.
âYah~the shrimps awake!â
Heavy and warm you are squashed into the bed under the weight of the man with a familiar black streak on his right side. Squeezed in a hug much too tight for someone in pain you squeak out,âHelpâŠme Azz. Please!â
The palms of the door way rustle with the entrance of pale guy wearing a fitting pair of glasses. The same beauty mark and violet curls with an anxious look on his face.
âFloyd do not open those stitches I swear to Ursula.â
The giant on top of you sighs before twisting himself around you, replacing the bed beneath you as he holds you like a pouty kid with a stuffed bear. His squeezing lessens but you feel a sly finger poke into your banaged side.Â
An unadulterated giggle as you let out a shocked hiss.Â
The man who threatens him with a look before calling out through the hanging palms he entered through. Moving into make space for the identical giant with sharp teeth, the only difference being that closed smile and the black streak hanging from the right.
âWait,â the broken pieces of your memory were coming together as you really examined the faces of the men around you.Â
âYouâre JadeâŠâ
âGlad to see you remember that at least.â
âAnd youâve got to be AzulâŠ?â
âI shouldnât be too offended I looked very different the last time you saw me.â
âThen youâve got to be FloydâAck!â
âIs that even a question!â
Taking a lookat their lower halves you canât ignore the bigger issue at play here. Other than their changed appearances.
âWait you guys all have legsâŠhow did that happen?â
Without an ounce of concern a look is shared between them as if youâd cracked the most hilarious joke. Instead of tails there are legs dressed in capri shorts that match the walls.Â
Jade stalks to a rudimentary looking oven where a pot of water boiled,âThere were things even you donât know about us doctor.â
He was making tea which seemed to fit, the quieter twin.Speaking of the man behind you nuzzles into your head, loudly sniffing at your head. Physically too weak to pull away you have no choice but to carefully accept a thermos of tea. When it was cool enough you addressed them again, considering the other two were simply staring at you like they were waiting for something specific.Â
You figured youâd lighten the mood, although you werenât quite figuring out whatâs happened. âNot to complain but this is a very tropical scene for some piping hot tea, is this what you guys usually prefer?â
Jadeâs smile never lessened as you took another sip,âNo but itâs best for you. Your body needs heat in order to fight off infection.â
You knew that. Heck knowing the ins and outs of the human body were a given for your profession. What was most interesting was that they seemed to be enjoying this reversal of roles.
âOkay but what happened? How did I get here? I get the feeling something insane has happened and no oneâs talking about it.â
Azul steps forward with a push of his glass,âIâll take that one. Obviously those activists werenât all they were appearing to be,âthe memory and a smidge of guilt for being so easily fooled and putting them in danger. Their reactions to the sound weapons burned into your memory as the tragedies of this whole ordeal.Â
âSo we took the liberty of cleaning everything up.â
The squint in your brows was instant, âCleaning up? What did you have to clean up?â
Azul dramatically sighs, a hand curling out with a faux grace. âWho else do you think could take down THE White Wolf?â
The name makes your eyes widen,âHow do youâ?â
Jade and Floyd laugh simultaneously. The vibrations against your back prove how hilarious your curiosity seems to be.Â
âAh youâre very cute, when youâre being stupid.â
That felt great. Not expecting much else from Floyd as he goes for another deep sniff you turn to Jade.
âApologies, your cluelessness is endearing. You were not the only one listening to rumors back in that place.â
That place. The disdain weaved so casually into conversation, by the always-composed Jade, just hammers the truth deeply into your heart. That you were glad they were finally free but to have them standing before youâtoes in the sandâhas the largest question to ask.Â
âWhy didnât you change before? Into this.â You gesture to their lower halves.Â
They all turn to look at you as if you held the answer all along. But as they momentarily stop to stare and smile eerily.Â
Azul speaks with a soft look, affection clear as day, âWe were looking for something.that could only be found in our true forms.â
You open your mouth to ask: did you find it? But before you speak in unison they reply to you.Â
âWe did.â
Ignoring their synchronicity you donât attempt to dwell on it. Having known them for as long as you have you have an inkling on the one thing they could be in absolute agreement with.
âOh good!â
Floyd lowers his head onto your shoulder, âYou were an especially big help with that.â
Laying it on thick, doesnât make the little pit in your stomach shrink any less. Instead you figured itâd be best to let this play out.Â
âGlad I could be so helpful. So what now?â
The three of them snicker and you can only be grateful theyâre so fond of you.Â
This has been the worst of my 99 problems this month.
I really really hoped you enjoyed this stupid little brainworm.
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