Yours truly

[luluvrs]

𓏲࣪  secret harmonies

pairing » megan skiendiel x fem!reader synopsis » megan promised never to fall for a fan, until she met you, and the rule didn’t stand a chance. » fluff to angst to fluff wc » 4k

rule number one of the idol handbook, seemingly etched in stone and repeated by management until it was white noise in the back of her mind: do not fall in love with a fan.

it was logical. it was professional. it was meant to protect the boundary between the artist and the admirer. for megan, it had never been a difficult rule to follow. she loved her fans—she adored the eyekons with her whole heart—but that love was platonic. it was a gratitude for their support, a shared energy during performances, a collective bond. she had never looked into the sea of lightsticks and felt her heart stutter with genuine, terrifying romantic attraction.

that was, until the los angeles show.

it had been three weeks ago. the adrenaline was high, the bass of "touch" was vibrating through the floorboards of the stage, and megan was doing her part, scanning the front row. that was when the stage lights swept over section b, row 1.

there you were.

you were wearing a hot pink crop top and a matching skirt, an outfit that demanded attention, but it wasn’t the clothes that made megan miss a step in her choreography. it was your face. you were singing along, eyes shining with pure joy, and when you locked eyes with megan, you didn’t just scream like everyone else. you smiled a soft, genuine smile that seemed to cut through the chaos of the arena.

megan had spent the rest of the concert unconsciously gravitating toward your side of the stage.

later that night, on the tour bus, she couldn’t shut up about it.

"i’m telling you, daniela, she was literally glowing," megan had insisted, scrubbing her makeup off with a wipe while staring at the ceiling. "she had this pink outfit on. section b. did you see her?"

daniela had rolled her eyes. "meg, there were two thousand people in pink. it’s our concept color half the time."

"no, but this was different," megan groaned, frustrated that she couldn't articulate the magnetic pull she had felt. "she was... pretty. like, intimidatingly pretty. i felt like i should have been asking for her autograph."

manon had laughed from the seat next to her. "careful, megan. you know the rules. don't go falling for the front row."

"i'm not falling," megan had scoffed, throwing the makeup wipe into the trash. "i just... i know i won't see her again. and that sucks."

she was wrong.

the fan sign event was in full swing. the room was buzzing with the low hum of chatter, the shutter of cameras, and the occasional shriek of excitement. the air smelled of expensive perfume and permanent markers. megan was seated between yoonchae and sophia, smiling until her cheeks hurt, signing album after album, answering questions about her skincare routine and her favorite snacks.

she was grateful, she really was, but her social battery was draining. she took a sip of water, adjusting her headband, and looked up to see who was next in the queue.

her heart stopped. it actually stopped, then slammed against her ribs with the force of a sledgehammer.

it was you.

you were wearing a different outfit today—a soft denim jacket over a white dress—but the face was unmistakable. it was the face that had haunted her dreams for the last three weeks. you were standing about five people back in the line, clutching your album to your chest, looking nervous.

the fans in the front row noticed the change instantly. megan, who had been slouching slightly in her chair, suddenly straightened up. her eyes widened, losing that glazed-over 'idol autopilot' look and sharpening into intense focus. a few fans whispered, wondering what had caught her attention, but megan didn't care.

she was counting down.

four. a nice girl who asked about megan’s dance training. megan answered politely, but her eyes kept darting over the girl's shoulder.

three. a guy who wanted a high-five. megan gave it to him, tapping her foot impatiently under the table.

two. a fan who was crying. megan held her hand, offering comfort, but her internal monologue was screaming, she’s right there. she’s right there.

one.

and then, you were standing in front of her.

up close, you were even more devastating. the harsh fluorescent lights of the venue usually washed people out, but you looked radiant. you placed your album on the table, your hands trembling slightly.

"hi, megan," you breathed out, your voice soft.

megan felt a grin split her face, wider and more genuine than anything she’d offered the cameras all day. "hi," she replied, her voice dropping an octave, becoming something softer, intimate. "i remember you."

you blinked, looking stunned. "you... you do?"

"la show. three weeks ago," megan said immediately, leaning her elbows on the table to bridge the gap between you. "section b. you were wearing that pink two-piece set. the skirt and the top?"

your jaw dropped slightly, a lovely shade of red blooming across your cheeks. "i... yeah. that was me. i can't believe you remember that. there were so many people."

"hard to miss you," megan murmured, uncapping her marker. she didn't break eye contact. "i actually told the girls about you afterward. i wouldn't shut up about the 'pretty girl in pink'."

you let out a breathless laugh, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. "you're lying. there's no way megan skiendiel was talking about me."

"ask daniela," megan challenged playfully, tilting her head. "i was distressed. i thought i’d never see you again."

she looked down at the album page, opened to her solo photo. the staff member behind megan tapped her shoulder, a silent signal to hurry it up, the line was long. megan ignored them.

she started signing, but she didn't just sign her autograph. she began writing a message. a long one.

"so," megan said, keeping her tone casual but her eyes flirting dangerously with yours. "what's your name? or do i just keep calling you 'pretty girl in pink' in my head?"

"it's y/n," you managed to say.

"y/n," megan tested the name, smiling as she wrote it down. "suits you. pretty name for a pretty face."

the management’s rule echoed in her head: do not fall in love.

megan looked up at you, taking in the way your eyelashes fluttered, the way you were biting your lip nervously, the way you looked at her like she was the sun.

i have been instructed to not fall in love with any fans ever since debut, but how could i not fall for a face as pretty as yours?

she finished writing the message. beneath her signature, in smaller, messier scrawl, she had written a series of digits.

"you know," megan said, her voice dropping to a whisper as she slid the album back toward you. "i'm usually really good at following rules. i'm a model employee."

you took the album, your fingers brushing against hers. the contact sent a jolt of electricity up megan's arm that she was sure you felt too. "are you?" you asked, your voice trembling.

"usually," megan smirked. her eyes flicked to the staff member who was now glaring at the clock, then back to you. "but for you? i think i'm about to become a problem child."

you looked down at the album, your eyes widening as you realized what the numbers were. you looked back up at her, shock written all over your features. "megan, is this...?"

"shh," megan winked, putting a finger to her lips. "don't get me fired before i get to take you out on a date."

the staff member stepped in. "moving along, please."

you grabbed your album, clutching it like it was a holy relic. you began to stand up, your legs looking a little shaky. megan watched you go, a pang of desperation hitting her. she needed to make sure.

as you turned to leave the table area, passing behind her chair to head toward the exit, megan pretended to drop her marker.

"oops," she said loudly.

as she leaned down to "retrieve" it, she reached out with her left hand, catching your attention. you paused. in a swift, practiced motion, something she must have learned from a spy movie, she slipped a small, laminated card into your hand.

it was a backstage pass. the 'family & friends' all-access laminate.

you froze, the cool plastic pressing against your palm. you looked down at her. megan was already sitting back up, smiling brightly at the next fan in line, but she cut her eyes toward you for one brief second.

she bit her lip, raising her eyebrows in a silent challenge: come find me.

you bit your lip back, nodding once, a flush rising on your neck. you quickly tucked the card into your pocket and walked away, trying to look casual, but megan saw the bounce in your step.

megan turned her attention to the next fan, "hi there! what's your name?"

inside, she was screaming. the rule book had been thrown out the window, burned, and scattered to the wind.

the laminate card felt heavy in your pocket, burning a hole through the fabric of your denim jacket. the security guard at the end of the hallway had barely glanced at it before nodding you through, his indifference a stark contrast to the frantic pounding of your heart.

you found the door marked megan. you took a breath, smoothed your dress, and knocked.

the door opened almost instantly, as if she had been standing right on the other side waiting. megan pulled you inside, shutting the door quickly behind you. the dressing room was surprisingly empty; the other girls must have been in hair and makeup or catering.

"you came," megan breathed out, leaning back against the closed door. she was still in her stage outfit, glittering under the vanity lights, sweat making her skin glow.

"you gave me an all-access pass, megan," you teased, trying to find your footing despite the fact that your knees felt like jelly. "it would have been rude to waste it."

megan laughed, a breathless, airy sound. she stepped closer, invading your personal space with an ease that made your head spin. "i was worried you’d think i was crazy. writing my number on an album?"

"it was a little crazy," you admitted, looking up at her. "but i like crazy."

"good." megan’s gaze dropped. she wasn't looking at your eyes anymore. her dark eyes were fixed firmly on your lips. the air in the room shifted, becoming thick and charged with static.

"megan," you murmured, a playful smirk tugging at the corner of your mouth.

"hmm?" she hummed, not looking up.

"you’re staring at my lips."

megan’s eyes snapped back up to yours, but she didn't look embarrassed. she looked hungry. she took another half-step forward, her thigh brushing against yours. "i’ve been thinking about them since the la show," she confessed, her voice low and raspy. "it’s really hard not to stare when you’re standing right here."

you felt a blush creep up your neck, but the boldness of her admission gave you courage. you let out a soft giggle, the sound breaking the heavy tension just enough to let you breathe. "you are dangerous, skiendiel."

"i try." she reached out, her fingers grazing the fabric of your denim jacket, hesitating as if she wanted to pull you closer but was restraining herself.

you checked your watch, feigning responsibility. "i should probably go. if the rest of the group comes back and finds a random fan in the dressing room, you’re going to be in so much trouble."

megan groaned, throwing her head back dramatically. "i hate that you're right. i hate logic." she looked back at you, intense and serious. "text me? tonight?"

"i will," you promised.

the text came at 11:42 pm. how she found your number, you dont know and maybe you don't really care.

megan: my ears are still ringing from the show but all i can hear is you giggling in the dressing room.

megan: did you make it home?

you: safe and sound. you were amazing tonight, by the way. even from the back of the room.

megan: next time you’ll be front row again. or side stage. i prefer you within reaching distance.

that text marked the beginning of a two-month blur that felt like a movie montage.

-

dating an idol was... complicated. it meant late-night facetime calls where megan was removing her stage makeup in a hotel room in tokyo while you were eating breakfast in la. it meant dates that happened in the back of tinted suvs with takeout food, or in private karaoke rooms where you spent more time talking than singing.

you learned that megan was funny, genuinely, sarcastically funny. you learned she was affectionate, constantly needing to hold your hand or rest her head on your shoulder whenever the coast was clear.

it was two months in, sitting in her car parked specifically in a blind spot behind a 24-hour diner, when she asked.

she had been quiet for a few minutes, just tracing the lines on your palm with her thumb.

"y/n?"

"yeah, meg?"

"i don't want to hide this anymore," she said softly, looking at your joined hands. "i mean... i know we have to hide it from the public. but i don't want to be 'just talking' or whatever this is. i want to be yours. officially." she looked up, her eyes vulnerable. "will you be my girlfriend?"

you had squeezed her hand, leaning over the center console to kiss her cheek. "i thought you’d never ask. yes."

one month later.

the dorm was silent. a rare, golden miracle.

everyone was out and the house was empty. megan had texted you the all-clear code: eagle has landed. nest is empty.

you had arrived ten minutes later.

now, the air in megan’s bedroom was hot, smelling of her vanilla perfume and the friction of movement.

you were straddling megan’s lap on her desk chair, the wheels locked in place. the chair groaned slightly under the movement, but neither of you cared. megan’s head was thrown back, her hands gripping your hips tightly to keep you anchored against her.

"god, y/n," megan gasped against your neck, her lips finding the sensitive spot just below your ear. "i missed you so much."

"i saw you yesterday," you teased breathlessly, your hands tangled in her dark hair, guiding her face back to yours.

"too long," she mumbled against your skin.

she captured your lips again, the kiss deeper, messier than the ones before. you ground down into her lap, the friction sending a jolt through both of you that made megan’s breath hitch audibly. a low moan vibrated in her throat, a sound that you felt more than heard.

"meg..." you whined, the sensation overwhelming.

megan didn't waste time. her hands moved from your hips, sliding up under the hem of your shirt. her palms were warm against your bare skin, tracing the curve of your waist before moving to the center of your back. her fingers danced along your spine, pressing firmly, pulling you impossibly closer until there was zero space left between you.

you broke the kiss to gasp for air, resting your forehead against hers. her eyes were blown wide, dark and hazy with lust.

"you're so beautiful," megan whispered, her hand splaying out on your back, her thumb rubbing circles against your skin under the shirt. she bucked her hips up slightly, an instinctive response to the pressure, and you let out a shaky, needy sound, biting your lip to keep from being too loud.

"we're alone, right?" you asked, your voice trembling.

"completely," megan promised, leaning up to bite your bottom lip gently. "just you and m—"

the bedroom door slammed open.

"megan! do you have my black boots? the ones with the—"

it was manon.

time seemed to freeze.

manon stood in the doorway, holding a shopping bag. she looked at the desk. she saw the chair. she saw you. she saw you on top of megan. she saw megan’s hands clearly under your shirt. she saw your swollen lips and flushed faces.

for a solid three seconds, there was absolute silence.

megan froze, her hands still under your shirt. you froze, looking like a deer in headlights, mid-grind.

manon, ever the quiet one, let out a scream that could have shattered glass. she slapped her hands over her eyes, spun around, and ran directly into the doorframe before scrambling out into the hallway.

"oh my god! oh my god! my eyes! i'm blind!"

megan scrambled to push you off, panic setting in. "manon! wait!"

you stumbled off megan’s lap, yanking your shirt down and trying to fix your hair, your heart hammering so hard you thought you might die of embarrassment right there.

from the hallway, you heard the front door open and a cacophony of voices. the others were back early.

"who is screaming?" that was sophia’s voice. "is there a bug? manon, why are you on the floor?"

"megan!" manon wailed from the hallway. "megan is... in there... with the pretty girl in pink... and they were... they were..."

"they were what?" daniela’s voice piped up, sounding amused.

megan stood up, her face bright crimson. she looked at you, panic warring with hilarity in her eyes. "i think we're busted."

"you think?" you hissed, frantically wiping lipstick off your chin.

megan walked to the door and poked her head out. "guys, can we just—"

daniela pushed past megan, barging into the room. she took one look at you, disheveled hair, swollen lips, standing awkwardly by the bed, and then looked at megan.

"finally!" daniela threw her hands up. "i owe yoonchae twenty bucks. i bet you guys wouldn't hook up for another month."

"you bet on us?" megan shrieked.

"we all bet on you," sophia said, appearing in the doorway, looking calm but amused. she looked at you and offered a polite wave. "hi, y/n. nice to see you again. sorry about manon. she's... sensitive."

megan covered her face with her hands, groaning into her palms. you couldn't help it. you started laughing. you walked over and wrapped an arm around megan’s waist, pulling her hands away from her face.

"well," you said, smiling at the terrifyingly supportive group of girls staring at you. "i guess the secret is out."

megan looked at you, saw the humor in your eyes, and sighed, leaning into your touch. "yeah. guess so." she glared at manon in the hallway. "knock next time!"

"lock the door next time!" manon screamed back.

-

but no relationship is perfect.

you knew what you signed up for.

that was the mantra you repeated to yourself in the mirror every time you had to duck into a bathroom stall to avoid a paparazzi camera. it was the sentence you whispered into your pillow when megan had to leave your bed at 4:00 am to get back to the dorms before management did a headcount.

i knew what i signed up for.

but knowing the terms of the contract didn't make the fine print hurt any less. you knew about the secrecy. you knew about the busy schedules. you knew about the pressure. but you didn't know about the feeling of shrinking. you didn't know that loving megan skiendiel meant slowly becoming invisible.

it had started small, cancelled dinner plans because a practice ran late, a movie night interrupted by an emergency meeting. you were understanding. you were the "good" girlfriend. you were supportive.

but then came the incident at the boba shop.

it was a tuesday, a rare afternoon off. you were both wearing masks and hoodies, trying to be normal people getting bubble tea. you were laughing at something she said, your hand instinctively reaching out to tuck a loose strand of hair behind her ear.

"megan?"

the voice shattered the bubble. a fan, phone already out, eyes wide with recognition.

megan flinched. it was a physical reaction, a recoil that sent her stumbling a step away from you. her demeanor shifted instantly from 'girlfriend' to 'idol'. she straightened her spine, put on the practiced smile, and waved.

"hi!" megan chirped, though her eyes were darting nervously around the shop.

the fan looked at megan, then looked at you, eyebrows furrowing. "oh my god, i love you so much. is this your friend?"

you opened your mouth to speak, maybe to say yes, or cousin, or old classmate.

"no," megan said quickly. too quickly. she stepped in front of you, effectively blocking you from the fan's view. "she’s just a staff member. she’s helping me run some errands today."

staff member.

not a friend. not a distant relative. not even an acquaintance. you were an employee. a nameless, faceless assistant.

the fan lost interest in you immediately, looking through you as if you were made of glass. "oh, cool. can i get a picture?"

"quickly," megan said, ushering the girl away from you.

you stood there, clutching your cold tea, feeling the shame burn hot in your cheeks. you weren't angry that she hid the relationship; you were angry at how easily she discarded your humanity to protect her image.

that was three weeks ago. since then, she had cancelled three dates back-to-back. first, it was an unexpected interview. then, she was "too tired" and afraid she’d look bad on camera the next day. then, a choreography change.

you were reaching your breaking point. megan sensed it.

"baby, please," she had begged over the phone two days ago, hearing the hollowness in your voice. "i know i’ve been terrible. i know. but i’m going to make it up to you. i promise."

"you always say that, meg."

"this time is different," she insisted, her voice thick with desperation. "friday night. i have the whole evening cleared. i’m going to take you somewhere special. a private room, no masks, just us. the most romantic date ever."

you hesitated. "i don't know..."

"please," she whispered. "be ready by 8:30. don't ask questions. just look pretty, and i’ll handle the rest. i love you."

and because you were in love, and because hope is a dangerous thing, you agreed.

-

friday. 8:15 pm.

you stared at yourself in the full-length mirror. you had gone all out. you were wearing a slip dress that hugged your curves in all the right places, the fabric shimmering under the warm light of your bedroom. you had spent an hour on your makeup, achieving that perfect, dewy look that megan always complimented. your hair was curled to perfection.

you sprayed a cloud of perfume—the vanilla scent she loved—and stepped into it. you felt beautiful.

8:30 pm.

you sat on the edge of your couch, careful not to wrinkle your dress. you had your purse in your lap, phone in hand, waiting for the text. i’m outside. or come down.

the clock on the wall ticked.

8:45 pm.

traffic. it was friday night in the city; traffic was inevitable. you checked your lipstick in your phone camera. still perfect. you sent a quick text.

me: hey, just checking in! no rush, just letting you know i'm ready :)

9:15 pm.

no reply.

you stood up and paced the living room. maybe she was driving. if she was driving, she couldn't text. that was responsible. but anxiety began to gnaw at your stomach. the silence in the apartment felt loud.

9:45 pm.

you sat back down. you checked megan’s fan accounts on twitter/x. nothing new. no sightings. that was good, right? it meant she wasn't stuck at a public event.

you called her. it rang. and rang. and rang.

“hi, you’ve reached megan. leave a message!”

you hung up. "okay," you whispered to the empty room. "maybe her phone died. or she’s surprising me by knocking on the door."

10:30 pm.

the hope had curdled into something sour and heavy in your throat. the apartment was dark, save for the streetlights filtering through the blinds. you were still sitting on the couch, but your posture had slumped. the purse had slid to the floor.

you felt foolish. you felt like a child who had dressed up for a party that no one else was attending. you thought about the expensive primer you used, now settling into the fine lines of your frowning face.

10:55 pm.

it was over. you knew it.

11:00 pm.

your heart didn't shatter all at once; it cracked slowly, painfully.

you stood up, your legs stiff from sitting in one position for hours. you walked to your bedroom, the click of your heels on the hardwood floor sounding like gunshots in the quiet apartment.

you stood before the mirror again. the girl staring back didn't look beautiful anymore. she looked pathetic. she looked like a fan waiting for an autograph that would never come.

tears welled up, hot and stinging. you didn't wipe them away. you watched them track through the foundation, leaving streaks of ruin down your cheeks.

"stupid," you choked out, your voice breaking. "you are so stupid."

you unzipped the dress. it fell to the floor in a pool of silk. you didn't bother hanging it up. you kicked it aside. you took a makeup wipe and scrubbed your face, harsh and angry motions that turned your skin red. you scrubbed away the contour, the blush, the hope.

you put on an oversized t-shirt, one that wasn't hers, you refused to wear hers right now, and crawled into bed. you curled into a ball, hugging your knees to your chest.

you couldn't sleep. you just stared at the wall, feeling the hollowness in your chest expand until it consumed you.

1:00 am.

your phone buzzed on the nightstand.

the light was blinding in the darkness. you squinted, your heart doing a painful flip in your chest. it was her.

megan: baby i’m so sorry, we had a vocal session that was way longer than any of us expected to be.

you stared at the words. a vocal session.

megan: we have an album we need to release before the end of the year yk that..let me make it up to you, i’ll be there in 20 okay?

something inside you snapped. it wasn't a loud snap. it was the quiet death of your patience.

she didn't forget. she just prioritized. and she didn't even have the decency to text you during the session to tell you to take off the dress. she let you wait. she let you sit there for four and a half hours because she assumed you would always be there waiting.

your fingers trembled as you typed. you didn't scream. you didn't use caps lock. you didn't send a paragraph.

me: don’t bother, i really don’t wanna see u rn megan

you watched the read receipt appear instantly. the three dots began to bounce. she was typing.

you turned off your phone. you placed it face down on the nightstand. and then, finally, you cried yourself to sleep.

-

you woke up with a headache that throbbed behind your eyes. the sun was streaming through the curtains, offensive and bright. your eyes felt swollen and gritty.

you shuffled to the kitchen to get water, your body feeling heavy, like you were moving through molasses.

knock. knock. knock.

you froze, glass in hand.

knock. knock.

"y/n? i know you're in there. please open up."

it was megan. her voice sounded wrecked.

you didn't want to open it. you wanted to crawl back into a hole. but the anger, that cold, hard anger, propelled you forward. you walked to the door and unlocked it, swinging it open.

megan stood in the hallway. she looked terrible, which gave you zero satisfaction. she was wearing sweatpants and a hoodie, her face bare, dark circles under her eyes prominent. she looked like she hadn't slept.

"y/n," she breathed out, stepping forward, reaching for you.

you took a sharp step back, putting the door between you and her. "don't."

megan flinched, her hand dropping to her side. she looked at you. she saw the swollen eyes, the red-rimmed lids, the absolute exhaustion radiating off you.

"i came as soon as i woke up," megan said, her voice trembling. "i tried calling you all night. why was your phone off?"

"because i was sleeping, megan," you said, your voice raspy and devoid of warmth. "unlike you, i don't operate on idol time."

"i said i was sorry," megan pleaded, her desperation rising. "it was the producers. they wouldn't let us leave until the harmony was perfect. i couldn't check my phone. you know how strict they are."

"i don't care," you said flatly.

"you don't care?" megan blinked, looking hurt. "y/n, it's my career. it's the album. you know this is my dream."

"and what am i?" you asked, the question cutting through the air like a knife. you finally looked her in the eyes, and the intensity of your gaze made her stumble back. "am i a hobby? am i a pastime? or am i just a staff member you keep around for when you're bored?"

megan’s face paled. "that... that isn't fair. you know why i said that."

"i waited for five hours, megan." you laughed, a dry, humorless sound. "i sat on my couch in a dress i bought specifically for you, for five hours. do you have any idea what that feels like? to sit there and realize that i am not even worth a five-second text message?"

"i didn't have my phone!" megan raised her voice slightly, frustration leaking into her tone. "i’m trying my best here! i’m trying to balance the biggest career of my life and this relationship, and i’m doing it alone!"

"you're not doing it alone!" you yelled back, the dam finally breaking. "i am the one hiding in cars! i am the one being called 'staff'! i am the one sitting alone in an apartment waiting for scraps of your time! i am doing all the compromising, megan!"

megan stepped into the apartment, kicking the door shut behind her.

"you think i want to hide you?" megan shouted, her hands balling into fists. "you think i like lying to people? i am doing this to protect us! if they find out, it’s over. the group, the tour, everything! i am under so much pressure, y/n, i feel like i can’t breathe half the time!"

"then stop dragging me down with you!" you screamed, your voice cracking, tears hot and fast returning to your eyes. "if it’s too much, then let me go! because being your dirty little secret is killing me! i am a person, megan! i have feelings!"

"i know you have feelings!" megan stepped closer, her face contorted with stress and anger. "but you knew! you said you understood! you said you could handle the lifestyle!"

"i thought i could handle the lifestyle!" you countered, gesturing wildly around the empty apartment. "i didn't think the lifestyle meant being stood up until 1 am while you pretend i don't exist! i didn't think it meant loving someone who puts me second every single time!"

"i don't put you second!"

"yes, you do! every single day! the fans come first. the company comes first. the girls come first. and i get whatever scraps are left over!" you were sobbing now, your chest heaving, the headache pounding against your skull. "i'm tired, megan. i'm so tired of being invisible."

"i am trying to build a future!" megan yelled, her voice raw. "for me! for us!"

"there is no us if you’re never here!"

the words hung in the air, vibrating with the force of your scream. megan stared at you, her mouth slightly open, her chest rising and falling rapidly.

you wiped your face aggressively with the back of your hand, sniffing loudly. you looked at her, and for the first time, you didn't see the idol. you just saw a girl who was hurting you.

"i’m just so..." you trailed off, your voice dropping to a broken whisper. "i'm done. i'm done fighting for your attention, megan."

the silence that followed was suffocating.

megan paused. her angry stance faltered. she blinked, and suddenly, the adrenaline that had been fueling her rage evaporated, leaving behind a cold, stark terror.

she looked at you. really looked at you. you were shaking. your face was wet with tears. you looked broken.

megan reached up to touch her own face and was startled to find it wet. she hadn't even realized she was crying. her fingers came away damp with tears she hadn't felt falling.

but that wasn't what stopped her heart. it was what you said. i'm done.

those two words echoed in her head, louder than any cheering crowd. done.

"what..." megan’s voice was a ghost of a whisper. "what do you mean... you're done?"

you didn't answer. you just looked at the floor, hugging yourself as if trying to keep your pieces together.

megan felt the floor drop out from under her. the anger was gone, replaced instantly by a panic so sharp it nearly brought her to her knees. she realized, with terrifying clarity, that she was about to lose you. not just for a date. not just for a night. but forever.

she thought about her life without you. no late-night texts. no giggling in dressing rooms. no one to hold her when the pressure got too much. just empty hotel rooms and screaming fans who didn't know her.

"no," megan whimpered. "no, you can't... you can't mean that."

she rushed forward, closing the distance between you, but she didn't grab you. she didn't pull you in. she collapsed.

megan skiendiel, the girl who danced on stages in front of thousands, dropped to her knees on your living room floor.

"y/n... baby, please," she sobbed, reaching out to take your hands. her grip was desperate, her palms clammy. "don't say that. don't say you're done. please."

you tried to pull your hands away, but she held on tight, pressing her forehead against your knuckles.

"i can't lose you," she cried into your skin. "i can't. i swear to god, i can't live without you. you're... you're everything. you're the only real thing i have."

you bit your lip, looking away, trying to steel your heart. "megan, get up."

"no!" she shook her head frantically against your hands, looking up at you. "i won't get up until you tell me you're not leaving. i'll fix it. i swear, i'll fix it. i'll tell them to back off. i'll make time. i'll scream it from the rooftops if you want me to. just... just give me time. give me one more chance."

you looked down at her. her eyes, those big, dark, expressive eyes, were swimming with tears. her eyelashes were clumped together. she looked terrified. she looked like a puppy that had been kicked.

it was your weak spot. it always had been.

your resolve, which had felt so solid moments ago, began to crumble. you loved her. god help you, you loved her so much it hurt. you saw the sincerity in her face, the sheer panic at the thought of a life without you.

you let out a shaky breath, a fresh wave of tears spilling over. "i can't keep doing this, meg. i can't keep waiting."

"you won't have to," she promised, squeezing your hands. "i'll be better. i'll be the girlfriend you deserve. i'll be greedy with my time for you. just... please. don't go."

you closed your eyes, tilting your head back. the silence stretched, heavy and fragile.

"just one chance," you rasped out, your voice barely audible.

megan let out a sound that was half-sob, half-laugh. she scrambled up from her knees and immediately pulled you into her arms. she buried her face in your neck, holding you so tightly it was almost hard to breathe.

"thank you," she wept against your shoulder. "thank you, thank you. i love you so much. i'm so sorry."

you slowly brought your arms up to wrap around her, your fingers threading into her hair. you cried together, standing in the hallway, the fight draining out of you until only exhaustion remained.

-

the rest of the day was spent in silence, but it was a healing silence.

you didn't go out. you didn't open the curtains. megan led you to the couch, and you both collapsed onto it, tangling your limbs together under a throw blanket. she refused to let go of you. even when she had to use the bathroom, she made you promise to stay right there.

she kissed your swollen eyelids. she kissed your forehead. she kissed your knuckles. every touch was an apology.

eventually, exhaustion took over. you fell asleep with your head on her chest, the rhythm of her heartbeat lulling you into a dreamless nap.

megan stayed awake. she watched you sleep, tracing the line of your jaw with her eyes. she looked at the puffiness of your face and hated herself for causing it. she thought about the fear she felt when you said you were done. she never wanted to feel that again.

she carefully reached for her phone on the coffee table, trying not to disturb you.

she opened her messages. she found the contact labeled manager.

her thumb hovered over the keyboard. she looked at you one last time, sleeping peacefully in her arms. she made her choice.

megan: schedule a meeting with missy for tomorrow. it’s important.

megan: we need to talk about my schedule and my contract terms. it can't wait.

a/n: first post HOW R WE FEEEEELINGGG 😛😛

a/n₂: pt.2

[aerienchanted]

RUMOR HAS IT megan skiendiel x fem!reader

in which you, fed up with dating rumours with men, start your own with your best friend and group member, megan skiendiel chapter one: i love queerbating

content: seventh member!reader, fem!reader, omegaverse jokes, sub!megan jokes, yunjin (le sserafim) and james (cortis) mentioned, fake dating ss count: 5 note: new smau!! i hope you guys enjoy it <3

series: masterlist next part

series tl: comment to be added!

katseye taglist: @lalaraah @nightmanon @icecreamcakepopp @yournextdooralien @cceanvvaves @katseyeloversgroup6 @pikachuu115 @aoeiurgnmddk @x-d4cvalentine-x perm taglist: @emmaitoshi @madwheelerpilled @kpopluver167 @seonghwaswifeuuuu @mwaeom

divider credits to @/muerdida (recoloured by me)

[retiredteabag]

That’s all it takes?

Synopsis: you’ve worked alongside Gojo Satoru for years; he’s painfully arrogant, critical about everything, and infuriatingly competent at his job. Worst of all, he’s just as striking as everyone thinks. For once, someone looks your way, why is it he cares so much?

tags: lowkey enemies/rivals to lovers, reader has a thing for being praised, journalist au, unedited (sorry :P)

pt. 1 - pt. 2

my masterlist

You'd thought the intern was trying to get a good word out of you at first. It wasn't uncommon for aspiring journalists to do whatever they could to get their foot in the door of such a competitive industry. The fact that he had been accepted onto the office floor seemingly was not enough for him. Hey, you could appreciate a handworker.

The clicking of the keyboard directly before you could only be overshadowed by the usual smacking of gum from the editor who was absent today. Her vacant desk oddly quiet. You flipped through your notebook and added even more sticky notes to your monitor, reminders of all the tasks to complete this week.

You were just about as type A as a person could be, everything was done on time, and done well. You had made something of a name for yourself and the validation kept you going. You devoured praise like it was the only thing sustaining you. That was the type of attitude that landed you positions in the greatest opinion piece publisher in Japan.

You weren't the only one who was overly competitive; however, no, someone else had become well-known even beyond his article acclaim.

The sweet little interns watched that man now like hawks. The moment his boisterous presence entered the open floor of the office cubicles, eyes followed him with an anxious reverence reserved only for the brain behind the words so many bore witness to.

Satoru Gojo was a well-known creature, even outside of journalism, the press, and the news.

Today, of course, he was in one of those moods. He sauntered into the room with a casual arrogance of someone who knew full well that the earth continued to rotate because he demanded it to be so.

The meeting he had just left was running late, his afternoon had been disrupted and the chaos he had yet to dispel was surely about to be unleashed on some unsuspecting intern.

"I've worked here far too long for superiors to still be unable to summarize a damn meetinggg~" Gojo hummed around a mouthful of croissant he had stolen from the client table. The editor that typically sat beside you would have flinched at Gojo's current gesticulation mid-rant.

You missed the peace she brought you when Gojo came around. Crumbs fell as the man licked his fingers. "Wasting my time like that, someone's gotta let them go."

You spun in your chair, looking back to see if Yaga, the company's publishing editor-in-chief, the very man Satoru Gojo was badmouthing over a sip of smoothie, was hearing his insults.

You didn't even blink when the very 'superior' exited from the conference room, waving Gojo off. The interns seemed even more worried. "The office doesn't revolve around your snacking schedule, Gojo. If you want perfect synchronicity, you might as well quit."

The apprentices looked between each other and you smiled them off, silently telling them to get back to researching the projects they were supposed to be putting together.

"You would like that, wouldn't you?" Satoru squinted, judging your very existence with his gaze.

He sighed theatrically, lounging himself across an open swivel chair of the empty editors cubical as if sitting through an assembly was the greatest waste of his precious- "They should know how important my time is-"

You roll your eyes, cutting him off, "Oh yes, so terribly important that you're spending it eating and bitching to me."

If you were being wholly honest, the shareholders in that meeting should be grateful. You'd never say it aloud, but Satoru Gojo wasn't just a writer. He was a cultural phenomenon. In his early twenties, he had already been revered for his reporting and interviewing skills, his name had graced more publications post-grad than you had even after building your portfolio.

His rate per word was outrageous as well as his schedule: a true nightmare. The Tokyo Times was beyond lucky to have been able to keep him on the team for as long as they had.

He sighed, rolling his eyes, the drama queen. He reached across you, stealing one of your pens and spinning it around amidst his fingers. "'The only reason I haven't jumped ship is because it brings me." He glided out of the chair and leaned against your cubicle, sliding the pen along the decor you had there, observing it, "so much pleasure", you wince at his seductive tone, "to bring you…annoyance." You smack his hand before he can poke the fat of your cheek with the writing utensil.

Satoru grins, spinning away with your pen, scraping up a donut before making the way back to his office. His very own, if you were curious.

One of the trainees from earlier was watching this interaction. He had a look of shock on his face as if he couldn't imagine someone smacking The Satoru Gojo.

You'd like to imagine he just couldn't fathom such a well-revered writer being so immature, but alas, that was less likely.

If it was possible for someone to be more critical than yourself when it came to work, it was Satoru. He had this sadistic urge in him that made it impossible to not call out the mistakes of others. It stung. That was the truth, but you would rather he tell you his thoughts then lie to your face and laugh behind your back.

Working with him was more of a challenge than a motivation most days. The salary was a great motivation, though. Yaga and his team paid you well. More than that though, was the rage to outlive that white haired tantrum of a man.

You could see it in the way he smirked at you, in the way his eyes found yours when you would slip up, the way he never seemed to take you seriously. This might just be the worst aspect of your personality; you just couldn't help but want to impress people, even if they didn't respect you.

"He seems like fun to work alongside." One of the interns had left the side of his fellow novices. Making small talk, telling a joke.

You shrug at the young man, "Most can't tolerate him for longer than a fiscal quarter. I hope you have what it takes."

He looked down at his shoes suddenly, "Me too."

He was tall, or taller than you at least, sweet, and earnest. He dressed up for every day at the office, he was never late, and he greeted every employee by name - to put it simply, he made a good impression. You turn your chair to him, "How are you liking your internship, is it the experience you hoped for?"

He smiled again, and his eyes practically twinkled. "I'm very grateful for the experience, I'll continue to work hard."

"I have no doubt." You nodded encouragingly at him and turned to face the screen before you. You figured he would move onto his fellows, go work on his project maybe, but he stayed standing there for a moment too long.

He heaved a breath as if steeling himself to say something risky. "Actually, there's something I wanted to ask you."

He looked suddenly shy, "I've read a lot of your stuff, you've been a real inspiration to me, and being able to work here has been-"

You know where this is going, you give him an understanding nod. Reading off the name on his chest, you lean in conspiratorially, whispering "I'm sorry, I won't be able to sway the decisions on who gets offered jobs after your program is up. But you're a hard worker, I'm sure y-"

He startles suddenly, waving his hands frantically, "No! Oh, no, no, I'm not... asking for anything like that... I'm sorry I came off that way, I was just... well," He swallows, and you attempt to track his eyes as they wander, confused about what he could possibly want from you.

"I just... I admire you a lot. You're bright, and...you're beautiful...and I was actually wondering if I could buy you a meal sometime?" He sounded so unsure of himself but he was standing up straight, breathing through his nose.

You weren't sure what to say. You knew you weren't unattractive but to be completely frank, people didn't ask you out. You chalked it up to being intimidating or perpetually busy, or a control freak. Whatever the cause, you were not accustomed to people liking you in that way.

You flush.

"Oh..." You had to replay his words over and over again. Your mouth opened and closed, and you tried to weigh what he was asking. He was cute, but also… he was an intern at the company you worked for.

Before you could even formulate a response, you were jerked back to reality when the gentleman who had just so adamantly confessed his feelings made an "aagh!" noise.

Yaga was tugging him by the ear. "You, young man, better get back to work before I deduct points from your final presentation for fraternization."

He looked overcome with embarrassment, rubbing the back of his neck while apologies spilled from his mouth. Yaga flicked him gently before he could bow anymore and rolled his eyes your way.

Dumbstruck, you stared at the screen of your computer for a long while. A dozen tabs were open, your task bar was still full of items you needed to get to today, even so, you found yourself cupping your cheeks, feeling the blood that had pooled there.

"Please don't tell me that was your type."

You're not sure when he appeared, but Gojo Satoru was staring at you with discernment. He had a judgmental eyebrow raised and he was tongue-ing at his cheek.

"Jesus." You huff, stretching your jaw, trying to brush off the flush you felt atop your ears. "What on earth are you doing?"

You made a brave attempt to type something onto a notation sheet. Dispelling the embarrassment that came with someone actually liking you.

"What am I doing? Look at yourself, you're all sheepish over some kid hitting on you."

You choke, "He's not a kid! He's graduated."

Satoru squints at you now, moving even closer. "Oh my gosh," he pulls a 'I'm-grossed-out-by-you-but-intrigued-all-the-same' face and continues, "are you actually into younger guys?"

"No!" You pant, your hands spread. He wasn't even that much younger than you, but being pressed about anything romantic, especially from Gojo was embarrassing.

"What's with this face you're pulling then?" He tapped the pen he had so rudely stolen earlier atop the wall of your cubicle, "I've never seen you all-" he fake gags, "-shy like this."

You huff, trying to find the words. "I'm-" you scoff, trying again, "not all of us are so used to...that sort of thing."

He straightens up suddenly, pulling his lips together, "Are you saying like... being flirted with?" He chuckles at the idea and you grit your teeth.

Breathing in, you try to laugh, trying to sound nonchalant, but it comes out annoyed. "Yes, Gojo, not everyone has people falling at their feet all the time."

Have I mentioned that Satoru, on top of being an incredibly talented creative, was a painfully striking individual to look at? Well, sure, he was very symmetrical. And tall. And he had...nice teeth. Veins too. It’s fair to say he wasn't lacking when it came to attention.

"So...you like him then." Somehow, he seemed offended at the idea.

"No, not necessarily." Was he trying to insinuate you were some kind of creep? He couldn't have been more than two years your junior. "But he was nice..."

"Nice?" Satoru wheezed. You didn't move. This whole interaction was ticking you off. Gojo's guffaws continued until he noticed you were just silently staring at him. "Are you serious?" He wiped a faux tear.

Why this was so upsetting for you, you couldn't quite place. "Yes, Gojo." You had a bit of an insulted tone to your voice, you wondered why he didn't seem to care about wasting his precious time with you suddenly.

"What... that's all it takes with you?"

Gears began to turn in Satorus' brain as he observed you now, taking in the new information.

"Normal people like niceness, Satoru, crazy, I know." You refuse to meet his gaze but he stands infuriatingly still, arms crossed, before his head canters to the side as if considering the concept for the first time.

"hmm..."

He shifts on his feet. You grow more tense by the second, waiting for his next snide comment. He clicks the pen a few times before slowly, setting it back on your desk. And then he was finally gone.

[retiredteabag]

Been over a year… finally getting around to chapter 2 …

[anto-pops]

Restraint - Sebastian Sallow x Female!Reader

Summary: Sebastian wasn’t sure whether or not he was grateful for your lack of attention. The clueless facade you maintained where he was concerned made him equal parts angry and confused. Didn’t you know he was a man? An eighteen year old man who catered to your every whim? A legal adult whose room you spent an unorthodox amount of time in? Anyone with eyes could see that Sebastian was into you, and yet you never gave him any sign that you were aware of his feelings for you. 

It was mind-boggling. It was frustrating. He was at the end of his rope.

Word Count: 7.7k

Warnings: 18+, aged up characters, masturbation, intense pining, possessive behavior, cunnilingus, oral fixation/oral smut, explicit sexual content

This random Monday oneshot is also on Ao3 | Part 2 now included

Sebastian had never been one for subtlety. In Ominis’ own words, he wore his heart on his sleeve and let his emotions fuel his tone, but there was little he could do to remedy that fact. Tiptoeing around a subject or beating around the bush never failed to frustrate him. He preferred it when people said what they meant and meant what they said. Being straight up and getting to the point spared him a headache and prevented him from losing his temper, which was the best case scenario for everyone. 

Sebastian said what he wanted, did what he wanted, and never wasted his breath apologizing for his actions when he knew deep down that he wouldn’t mean it anyways. Placations were pointless. 

Unless, however, you were involved. 

Everything about you had driven Sebastian mad for the last three years. From the moment you had arrived at Hogwarts, he had been completely and utterly entranced by you. Then you’d gone and broken his dueling win streak in Defense Against the Dark Arts, and the infatuation had turned into obsession. You were the one person he wouldn’t– no, couldn’t be authentic with. How could he be? You made him stupid. He could barely think straight around you, his mind imbuing him with the sorts of thoughts that would land him in an asylum if he voiced them. If he didn’t filter himself around you, it wouldn’t end well. Not for him, and certainly not for you. 

He didn’t know if your obliviousness to his behavior was all for show or if it was completely genuine, but he didn’t want to risk finding out. 

“Sebastian?” Your voice made him go rigid, the tired rasp to your voice sending his body’s entire blood supply straight between his legs.  

“What?” 

“Do you want to work on that History of Magic report with me later? I fell asleep and missed half of the lecture.” 

He watched you over the rim of his cup, the steam from the hot chocolate wafting into the air and obscuring his view of you slightly. Of course he knew you’d fallen asleep– he had been watching your head bob up and down for twenty minutes in class before the fatigue had won out and you’d slumped over your desk. Professor Binns was always too preoccupied with floating listlessly around the chalkboard to take notice, which was why Sebastian hadn’t bothered to wake you up. If you were tired, you needed to rest. 

More to the point, Sebastian enjoyed watching you when you weren’t looking. What better opportunity was there to do so than while you slept? 

Your chin was daintily perched in your palm as you pushed around the food on your plate, waiting patiently for his answer. With your tired smile and half-lidded eyes, he was convinced you were on the verge of passing out again. How late had you stayed up last night? What had you been doing instead of sleeping? Had you gone out with your friends– or Merlin forbid– someone else?

He banished the train of thought from his mind, lest he piss himself off with the possible answers. “Sure. Library?” 

“Hm… can we go to your room? If I fall asleep again, at least it’ll be in an actual bed.” 

The mental image of you sprawled out on his bed did nothing to alleviate the growing bulge straining against his trousers. His jaw hardened as he breathed in deeply through his nose, then exhaled through his pursed lips. “Yeah, fine. I won’t do the work for you if you fall asleep, though.” 

Your tired expression lit up as you beamed at him, and his stomach churned violently. It was pathetic how smitten he was. He knew he would agree to come to class in a ballgown if it meant getting to glimpse that dazzling grin of yours. 

The smile he gave you was mildly strained, but you didn’t notice. Thankfully. 

Sebastian spent the rest of lunch holding his breath and thinking of anything that fit the criteria of gross and off-putting. He had to. It wasn’t like he could rub one out in the middle of the Great Hall to get rid of the half-mast hidden behind his zipper. He couldn’t even excuse himself to go back to his dorm to take care of it in private– he’d be showcasing the full extent of the problem between his legs to the entire student body if he did. You were none the wiser to his internal turmoil as you rambled on innocently about one thing or another, but he could barely hear you over the rush of blood in his ears. 

He checked the giant grandfather clock against the wall. Twenty more minutes for lunch. With any luck, it would prove to be enough time for his cock to calm the fuck down. 

—

You were always late. 

Sebastian had grown accustomed to your unyielding habit of showing up places behind schedule. In the beginning it had bothered him, if only because he was the exact opposite. He had to be early to everything on his agenda, otherwise he was panicky and on edge. But your reliable tendency to arrive after an agreed upon time was exactly what he needed right now, because if he didn’t kill the boner he’d been sporting since lunch, he was going to lose his fucking mind. 

The dorm was empty since all of his roommates were either in the Library or in Hogsmeade, but Sebastian still tried to stifle his noises. Choked moans of your name were bitten back and swallowed as his fist furiously worked the aching length of his cock. There was nothing sensual or graceful about how he moved his hand– it was all frantic. Berserk, even. His fingers were pressed roughly against his shaft, his wrist twisting rapidly over the head as he tried to practically yank his orgasm out. Any other day he would be ashamed of how pitiful he had to look, but not now. 

Right now, he was desperate. He had to stave off his cravings for you as a precaution before you showed up, otherwise he knew he’d be done for. 

A quick succession of three knocks sounded from the door, halting his movements. Then Sebastian’s blood ran cold when he heard your voice from the other side. “Sebastian? Are you here?” 

The stinging slap from his hand clamping over his mouth worked to snap his mind out of its lust-induced haze. Squeezing the base of his cock with bruising strength, Sebastian let his head fall back against the headboard of his bed as tears of frustration and pent-up pleasure filled his eyes. He blinked them back stubbornly, digging his teeth into his thumb as his entire body seized with agitation. 

Figures that this was the one time you were actually early. 

You started knocking again, your knuckles rapping against the wood of the door faster, your impatience permeating the air on your side of the wall until it was too much to bear. 

Sebastian snarled as he hastily stuffed himself back in his pants, at a complete loss for how to proceed. He was hardly in a state to be around you right now. All of this had been so he wouldn’t be a fraught mess around you, but now things were ten times worse. His legs were tense as he swung them over the side of the bed and made his way to the door, taking an extra moment to readjust his painfully hard cock in his pants before undoing the lock and wrenching the door open. 

“Finally,” you huffed angrily, your narrowed eyes widening when they took note of his flushed, sweaty face. “Merlin, what’s wrong with you? Are you sick?” 

“You’re early,” Sebastian replied flatly, ignoring your question completely. 

“Yeah, Garreth offered to help Poppy out at the stalls for me so I came over sooner. What’s the matter with you?” 

“I–” Shit, what did he say? His brain scrambled for an excuse, his red cheeks and disheveled clothing leaving little room for interpretation. Unless… “I was working out. Getting ready for Quidditch next week. I thought I’d have more time to finish up and shower, but now you’re here.” 

“Oh! I’m sorry, I forgot about Quidditch. Figures Imelda is making you prepare early,” you waved your hand over your shoulder in the general direction of the bathroom. “Go ahead, don’t stop on my account. I can start reviewing what notes I did manage to take today.” 

Sebastian wasn’t sure whether or not he was grateful for your lack of attention. The clueless facade you maintained where he was concerned made him equal parts angry and confused. Didn’t you know he was a man? An eighteen year old man who catered to your every whim? A legal adult whose room you spent an unorthodox amount of time in? Anyone with eyes could see that Sebastian was into you, and yet you never gave him any sign that you were aware of his feelings for you. 

It was mind-boggling. It was frustrating. He was at the end of his rope.

And he still needed to shower. 

“Give me ten minutes,” he muttered under his breath, more to himself than to you. You nodded and stepped inside his room, watching as he stiffly grabbed a change of clothes and a towel before striding past you without a second glance. 

If the universe held any affection for him at all, a cold shower would be enough to loosen the tight knot in the pit of his stomach. 

—

Unsurprisingly, Sebastian’s excursion to the bathroom was unsatisfying. The shower head ought to count itself lucky that it was still mounted to the wall and not lying in a broken, dented heap on the floor. The icy spray of water had eased the problem between his thighs, but it had also snapped him out of his stupor, sharpened his senses, and left him with the grating realization that nothing would help him quench his thirst for you. 

After donning a pair of pajama pants and an old Quidditch jersey that had definitely seen better days, Sebastian slowly– painfully– made his way back to you. He dimly towel dried his hair as he shuffled towards the door, giving himself as much time as possible to steel his nerves and barricade his lustful thoughts behind a mental, brick shield. A chill snaked its way up his spine as the cold air of the Slytherin dorms kissed his damp skin, but he barely paid it any mind. 

He would rather be cold than embarrassingly hard. 

When Sebastian pushed the door open, he found you laid out on his bed on your stomach, a textbook and a pile of notes situated before you. You’d shed your robes and were clad in your school uniform, the trousers you’d stubbornly kept since last year acting like a second skin. The passage of time was ultimately Sebastian’s greatest enemy, because with every month that went by, you changed. Physically changed. You were taller, curvier, and more womanly than ever. Instead of replacing your uniform with one that fit, you held on to ones from years past that had no business living in your drawers. 

That perky ass of yours was going to be his undoing. Why did that outdated pair of trousers have to hug your hips so nicely? 

He averted his gaze to the wall, curling his hands into tight fists that left violent red crescents on his palms. Get a grip, he thought to himself. 

“You certainly made yourself comfortable,” he finally managed to bite out, his voice strained and pitched higher than normal. Idiot. 

You glanced over at him with what he could only describe as a doe-eyed look. Those plush lips of yours were parted in mild surprise before they curled up into an easy smile, and your feet proceeded to kick up in the air playfully. “Your bed is much more comfortable than the one in my dorm.”

Deep breaths. Deep fucking breaths, Sebastian. 

“Is that why you’ve practically moved in here? Not sleeping well in your own room?” 

“Among other things,” you admitted around a sigh. “Don’t pretend like you don’t live for my company though. What else would you do if I wasn’t around to pester you?” 

“Relax, most likely.” He allowed himself a shit-eating smirk, and he was rewarded by the sound of your indignant gasp. Closing the distance between you both, Sebastian sat down on the edge of the bed, confidently moving so that he was situated against the headboard for the second time today. You shifted around to give him more space, then brazenly draped your legs over his before shoving your notes into his lap. 

His smirk vanished, and it took everything in him not to let out the choked groan that bubbled in his throat in response to the close proximity. “Whatever. You love me, and we both know it,” you huffed tauntingly, your downcast eyes keeping you from seeing the way his adam’s apple bobbed when he swallowed thickly. “Now read over this and tell me if I got most of the important material. Then I can start drafting the paper.” 

History of Magic was the one class that never failed to make everyone sleepy, but presently? Working on an assignment like this with you in the wake of his shitty day? Sebastian had never been more awake, and it had everything to do with how pent-up he was. With excruciating restraint, he blocked out the feeling of your legs weighing down on his thighs and picked up the notes. 

It was going to be a long, long evening. 

—

It hadn’t been easy for Sebastian to maintain his composure for an hour straight, and there was even more truth to that fact now. You were still propped up against the bedpost with your notes scattered around you, your legs still tossed lazily over his, only you wouldn’t stop fidgeting. 

Seriously. Sitting still was a foreign concept to you and had been for the last twenty minutes, because your feet wouldn’t quit fucking rubbing together. That wasn’t the direct cause of Sebastian’s frayed composure. It was the fact that your incessant twitching was pulling on the fabric of his pants, drawing the material taught over his groin over and over and over. It wasn’t an unusual thing for you to get so restless after studying for so long without a break, but considering that his impromptu masturbation session had been cut short earlier, he was loads more anxious than usual.  

He didn’t mean to be so aggressive when he slapped his hands over your knees, stilling your absentminded writhing with a scowl. Later on he would apologize– and mean it– for being so harsh. But if he didn’t put a stop to your shifting, he was going to have bigger problems that superseded you being upset with him. 

“Hey!” Your head snapped up from your notes, your grip on your quill turning white knuckled as you openly glared at him. “That hurts. Let go–”

“Stop moving so much, you’re driving me insane!” He fired back defensively, hating how gruff his voice sounded. “Is it too much for you to sit still?” 

Your brows rose up your forehead in complete bewilderment, your expression warring between offended and shocked. “You could just ask next time instead of trying to dislocate my kneecaps. Merlin…” Sebastian didn’t know whether to be relieved or disgruntled when you attempted to withdraw your legs from his lap. Either way, he refused to let you move the limbs, and your loud sigh was laced with blatant vexation. “Let go, I’ll just move–” 

“No. I don’t want you to move, I just want you to relax.”

Your wary gaze pierced right through him, and if he wasn’t already coiled tighter than a fucking spring, he would stiffen at the way your lower lip jutted out into a pout. You obeyed, though, your legs staying mercifully still as you went back to reading over the notes he had added to, and Sebastian took the opportunity to watch you through his lashes while he pretended to look down at the papers in his own lap. 

Mussed strands of hair fell into your face, a byproduct of how frequently you’d run your fingers through them. Following summer break, you had returned to school with a light smattering of freckles dusting your nose. They couldn’t hold a candle to the ones that covered damn near every inch of him, but they were still pretty. Cute, even. The dark rings under your eyes would have looked sickly on anyone else, but in your case, they made the whites of your eyes all the more vibrant. You looked like a doll. 

A scrumptious, effortlessly beautiful doll. 

He watched as you sucked your bottom lip between your teeth, scratching out something you had written before hastily replacing the sentence with another. When the bit of skin was released, it was left red, swollen, and far more tempting than it had any right to be. 

He wanted to kiss you. He wanted to bite at your lips, your neck, your breasts, and leave imprints of his teeth all over you. He wanted to mark every inch of your body and lay his claim in some primal, unseemly way that went against every lick of gentlemanliness he had been taught. He wanted to toss his inhibitions to the wind and indulge in the taste of you– something he had wondered about for a long, long time. Were you as sweet as he imagined? Would your thighs work to crush his head if he found himself situated between them, lapping up your essence like a man starved? 

When your head popped up to glance at him again, Sebastian was unprepared for it. He was still staring– no, ogling you– with his eyes narrowed and his chest rising and falling rapidly. His fantasies had gotten the better of him and had left him a panting, lust-drunk mess. Another cold shower couldn’t even begin to lessen the painful throbbing of his cock. All of his hard work at keeping calm and in control had just flown out the fucking window, and he could only thank the stars in the sky that he had a pile of notes in his lap, concealing the evidence of his innermost thoughts. 

“Are you sure you’re not coming down with something?” You asked him, abandoning your quill against the mattress so you could sit forward and scan his very flushed, very tense face. 

“I’m fine,” he looked away, trying and failing to wave you off. 

Stubborn as ever, you didn’t back down. “You’re all red. Do you have a fever?” 

“Seriously– I’m fine. Don’t worry about it, just finish your report already.” 

The force of his heart hammering against his sternum left him worried that it was about to jump out of his ribcage. Your hand was suddenly closing in on him, concern etched across your features as you shifted your legs to move closer into his space. The tantalizing smell of your perfume oil invaded his senses, filling his nose and setting his blood alight in his veins. There was something to be said about how primal humans could be when it came to scents. Yours had always been incredibly intoxicating, and Sebastian was all too willing to breathe it in deeply as the back of your hand made contact with his forehead. 

He was so fucked. 

“You’re burning up. Maybe we should call it a night… you probably need to sleep it off.” 

“I don’t need sleep,” he insisted with a frown, reaching up to pry your hand away from his face. “I already told you; I feel fine. Just drop it.” 

That spark of rebellion you reserved for your most loathed enemies came to life behind your irises, burning brighter than the sun as you narrowed your eyes at him and tried to plant your hand against his forehead again. Sebastian held you back with little effort, your arm shaking with the force you exerted in your attempts. “You’ve been weird all day– if you’re sick, you need to be checked out. So either you tell me what’s wrong with you, or I’ll drag you to the Hospital Wing myself.” 

That dark, animalistic part of him that conjured up the most obscene of daydreams silently laughed at your threat. Drag him? You couldn’t move him if you tried. He was infinitely stronger than you– broader, faster, tougher. You were the prey his inner predator yearned to claim. It was your fault that he was so out of it today, and yet you had the gall to order him around? 

With the utmost difficulty, Sebastian checked himself in record time, reining in the bestial side of him as his grip on your wrist tightened. “For the last time, nothing is wrong. If you can’t accept that, then leave. There’s the door. You have your notes– go finish your report in your own room.” 

You scoffed and strained in his hold, realizing that your attempts at moving your hand forward were fruitless. Then, faster than Sebastian could process, you threw your other arm out– deciding that if he was going to hold back your left hand, your right could pick up where the other had left off. He instinctively jerked you sideways to throw you off balance, which sent you careening forward against his chest. A guttural, almost pained groan ripped from his throat when your palm pressed directly against the throbbing bulge in his pants, your efforts to catch yourself effectively giving him away. 

The jig was up. Your hand was right on his cock, the notes in his lap crinkling loudly as your fingers flexed in alarm. His eyes, which had squeezed shut in response to the abrupt contact, cracked open to find you blinking up at him blearily. “S-Sebastian?” 

“Stop. Just don’t,” he grit through his teeth, his molars clenching together so roughly that he was certain his jaw would lock. 

“I-I’m sorry, I didn’t– I shouldn’t have–” you tried to backpedal away from him to remove yourself from his personal space, but you only succeeded in applying more pressure to his groin. A choked whimper escaped his lips, the sound forming too quickly for him to stifle it and too loudly for you to have missed it. 

Fuck. 

Sebastian blindly yanked you forward so the brunt of your weight was pressed against his chest. His arm wrapped around your waist to prevent you from escalating the situation further, and the sigh of relief that slipped through his teeth when you moved your hand away from his cock was pathetic. He was pathetic. 

He was glad that you couldn’t see his face when he desperately whispered, “Don’t– don’t fucking move. Please, just… give me a minute.” 

That was all he needed. A moment of reprieve. He needed sixty, uninterrupted seconds to focus on his breathing– to imagine a Dugbog in a swimsuit, or Madame Scribbner in lingerie. He needed to cycle through the things that never failed to kill his libido, and he could only do that if you let him. 

You didn’t. Fuck– you didn’t even give him five seconds to open his eyes. Before he knew what was happening, your hand was back on his cock, your fingers digging into the parchment that covered his lap as you fucking squeezed his pulsing length with intention. 

The effect was instantaneous, and the sounds that fell from Sebastian’s lips were ones that would be seared into your brain until the end of time. His brain, too. He had never made such a wretched noise in all his eighteen years of living. 

“Don’t make me throw you off this bed,” he growled slowly, but the high-pitched edge to his voice made it seem like despite his words, he was secretly pleading for it.

The image of himself climbing over you on the hardwood floor, pinning those damnable hands of yours above your head with one hand while the other was knuckle deep in your tight, fluttering cunt flooded his mind, and the brick wall of restraint he had constructed earlier crumbled into dust. He sucked down a shaky breath, his entire body vibrating with need as you gave him yet another testing squeeze, and that was what finally prompted him to seek out your eyes. 

They were glimmering with unrestrained curiosity, something strangely like wonder dancing behind your pupils. “What the hell are you doing?” 

“I don’t know,” you admitted breathlessly, the prettiest flush Sebastian had ever seen spreading across your cheeks as you glanced down to where you gripped him. “I just… is this why you’ve been so out of it today?” 

“You have no idea what you’re getting yourself into,” he rumbled, his mind urging him to shove you away while his body begged him to arch into your touch. “You better stop while you still have the chance.” 

“But…” you trailed off, squeezing him for the third time and jumping when he hissed loudly through his teeth. “This seems pretty bad. Painful, even.” 

If he wasn’t so wound up, he would have laughed. “You don’t even know the half of it.” 

Sebastian was convinced that he was the hardest he had ever been. The dual sensations of your hand on his cock and your shallow breaths fanning across his cheek had him dripping precum, the fluid swiftly soaking through the fabric of his pants and creating a stark wet patch that you noticed immediately. Almost testingly, you swiped your thumb over the spot, sending a bolt of arousal straight through him that left him gasping with need. 

His willpower was shot. It was going to take a fucking miracle to come back from this. You had effectively taken every last bit of Sebastian’s resolve and crushed it all beneath your heel, leaving him trembling and keening as every part of your being invaded his senses and held him hostage. 

“Fuck– please,” he moaned, burying his face in the crook of your neck. He couldn’t look at you right now– it would be the end of everything if he did. The end of this insanely euphoric moment, the end of his restraint, and maybe even the end of his friendship with you. This was… uncharted territory. He was scared to explore it, but gods, did he want to. “Please, I can’t– I can’t take it…” 

He heard you swallow, your hesitation evident in the way you paused before lifting your hand away from his groin. The wrist he had held apart from you slipped free, his fingers closing over nothing but air, and a wave of disappointment crashed over him. Every inch of skin you pried away left him emptier and emptier, his heart and his dignity deflating with each passing second. His chest felt tight, and he was fully prepared to sit there in agonizing silence while you gathered your things to leave as fast as your legs could take you. 

But then your hands were back– on either side of his face to tilt his head up to yours– and his sharp intake of breath was smothered by your soft, delectable lips pressing against his. 

Bloody hell. 

You weren’t leaving. 

A switch flipped. 

A carnal growl ripped from the back of his throat, and then he had you splayed out on your back with his knee wedged insistently between your thighs. He faintly heard the sound of your notes being scattered across the floor, but your startled gasp transforming into a hapless moan was more important. His lips crashed back into yours with zeal, the mask he had maintained this entire time dissipating like smoke in the wind, and his tongue bullied its way into your mouth, probing and tasting as though he didn’t have enough time to memorize every facet of information he unearthed. 

You tried to match his pace the best you could, nipping at his lips and breathing heavily into his mouth, but your attempts only annoyed Sebastian. He asserted dominance by grabbing your chin between his index finger and thumb, then pried your lips apart with his tongue and conquered your mouth wholly and without subtlety. 

“I need you,” he panted against your face, his fingers digging sharply into your hips. “I need you so bad, darling.”

You could only moan shakily when Sebastian dove back in to latch his lips over your pulse, peppering your neck with wet, sloppy kisses and decorating it with an assortment of love-bites. His teeth left a trail of imprints that his tongue worked to soothe, comforting you like he always had while hopelessly committing the taste of your salty skin to memory. 

Sebastian felt you shudder as he worked his way up the column of your neck to the sensitive area below your ear. He nipped at the warm flesh waiting for him there, and when you whined and shamelessly bared more of yourself to him, he couldn’t stop himself from grinding his clothed cock against your hip. “Please, fuck– let me taste you. I’ll do anything you ask, just spread your legs and let me make you feel good.”

Your breathing hitched, and you tried to turn your head towards him, but he was too busy panting against your neck to meet your flustered stare. “S-Sebastian–” 

“Please, darling. I’m fucking begging here. Let me in. Let me do this.” 

Sebastian sounded drunk, his mind positively swimming with lust. The prospect of getting to see you like this, of getting to touch you, was driving him absolutely insane. His voice was airy and reedy– almost choked as though he couldn’t get the words out fast enough. 

“I– I’ve never done this before,” you stammered softly, your cheeks flushing with humiliation at the revelation. 

Sebastian’s head snapped up, a fire burning behind his eyes as he stared down at you with newfound hunger, and he knew without a shadow of a doubt that he had to look deranged. “You– no one has ever touched you like this? Never?” 

“I mean, I’ve been kissed before, but not…” you trailed off, suddenly bashful in the face of your inexperience. “I don’t know what I’m doing.” 

Something buried deep inside of him broke free at that moment– a wild, untamable piece of himself that salivated at the fact that you were a virgin. No one had ever laid with you before. No one had ever glimpsed the intimate, private parts of yourself that were always hidden beneath that damn uniform. He would be the first– he would be your first. It should have been impossible, but the thought alone made him harder, his cock straining and leaking so much precum that he wouldn’t be surprised if it was dripping through the fabric of his pants. 

Rational thinking returned to him then, and he was able to blink back the fog that shrouded his morals. “We can stop,” he croaked, not meaning a fucking word of it. “Fuck– tell me to stop and I’ll leave you alone. We can’t come back from this. Tell me to back off and I will.” 

“I…” uncertainty washed over your pretty features, and much like before, Sebastian’s heart sank into the pit of his stomach. He was so selfish. He was such a self-serving bastard– he didn’t want you to call him off. He wasn’t the religious type in the slightest, but for the first time in his entire life, Sebastian started honest to God praying that you wanted this. That you wanted him. 

He was going to have to make a point to pray more, because after a few tense beats of silence, he heard you shyly murmur, “I don’t want you to stop.” 

Fuck. Thank Merlin. 

There would be time later to be embarrassed about how his body sagged with relief. He was too busy kissing you again to bother with such a trivial emotion right now. Savoring your taste with a deep groan, Sebastian allowed himself a minute to grind against your hip, then moved back so he could begin the laborious process of stripping your too-tight trousers from your legs. It took longer than he would have liked, but once the attire reached the base of your ankles, he was able to rip them off and discard them haphazardly over his shoulder. 

“Need to burn those,” he growled. “They drive me crazy.” 

A brief huff of amusement came from you, and you squeezed your knees together in some feeble attempt to hide yourself from him. “They’re just pants.”

He didn’t have the mental capacity to get into why he had such a potent love-hate relationship with the clothing. Instead of explaining himself, he reached out to pry your legs apart, taking immense satisfaction in the way you squeaked and your entire face turned red. “Let me taste you. I’ve been wanting to for so fucking long– I swear I’ll make you feel good, love.” 

Sebastian was sure that if he opened a dictionary to look up the word ‘disoriented’, there would be a photo of your face printed right next to it. You had never looked at him like that before; flushed, wide-eyed, and with traces of both confusion and arousal shadowing your tight features. Your expression had no right to rile him up the way it did, but he wasn’t interested in hiding his thirst for you. Not anymore. 

“Are you sure?” You asked him, voice quivering. “That– I mean, if it’s gross or anything, don’t feel like you have to.” 

Sebastian scoffed. You had no clue how extensive his fantasies were. As if he could ever be grossed out by you. 

The level of innocence you displayed only spurred him on faster, and he eagerly sat forward to cover your mouth with his again, his fingers deftly undoing the buttons of your blouse so he could wrench it over your shoulders. Even though he was vibrating with barely contained need, he had to allow himself a moment to take in the sight of you completely bare, the staps of your brassiere hanging seductively over the sides of your arms and tightening the knot in the pit of his stomach. Your undergarments had to be as outdated as your trousers, because they were snug, short, and way too sheer to qualify as new. 

He needed to burn those, too. 

Sebastian watched you with predatory intent as he slipped his fingers under the waistband of your unmentionables, letting his nails scratch against your thighs when he began to drag the clothing down your legs. Without your blouse in the way, he was able to see the full extent of your reddening skin, the color more vibrant than the Gryffindor banners that hung in the Great Hall. Your chest rose and fell rapidly, then stilled when the underwear was fully removed. Save for your brassiere, you were completely bare before him, and Sebastian audibly moaned when he looked down to find your folds glistening with moisture already. 

“I’m going to drink up everything you have to give me until there’s nothing left,” he braced his hands on either side of your hips to lower himself onto his stomach, taking care to plant soft, revering kisses against your hip bones. “I know you taste so fucking good. I just know it…” 

Your entire body tensed when you felt Sebastian exhale against your damp center, his eyes fluttering shut as he inhaled your intoxicating scent. Then before you could collect your bearings, he was licking a broad, flat stripe up your slit, collecting as much of your wetness as he possibly could, and the sensation made you jolt. “S-Sebastian–” you gasped, digging your fingers into the rumpled sheets of the bed in a bid to ground yourself. 

“Yeah, say my name,” he urged roughly, his chest swelling with male pride. The sound of his name on your lips had the same effect as a bolt of lightning; it sliced through him to his very core, electric and unbelievably erotic, and he brazenly covered the entirety of your cunt with his mouth, licking and sucking at whatever parts of you he could reach. 

The wetness that covered you was so extensive, it was hard to tell whether it was your own arousal or Sebastian’s saliva to blame. A cacophony of moans and whines tumbled from your throat without restraint, prompting him to dig his nails into your sides as he hauled you closer. He fucked his tongue into you with inhuman vigor, his jaw aching in protest, but he ignored the discomfort and continued to devour every drop of your essence like he would die if he didn’t. 

It was so messy, too. Sebastian could feel the moisture dripping down his chin, but that only inspired him to work harder– his grip on your waist turning so severe that he knew he would find finger shaped bruises there later. Another mark left by him. Another brand proving that you were his. 

“I knew it,” he panted hoarsely, his voice strained and deep as though he’d been screaming before now. “You taste so good, darling– so fucking sweet.”

“I– Sebastian, I–” you covered your face with your hands, the appendages shaking in earnest as your muscles began to tense. “Fuck, I think I–”

He sucked your clit between his lips then, laving his tongue over the swollen bud with so much pressure that your hips bucked against his face. The chuckle he let loose was guttural and dark, and he broke his unwavering concentration to glance up at you. “Are you close? You want to come for me, huh?” 

Sebastian knew you had to be embarrassed, because you were still hiding behind your hands, the heels of your palms digging into your sockets. He could faintly see the row of teeth-shaped marks that lined your neck, but the majority of his hard work from earlier was concealed by your forearms. That wouldn’t do. He reached up and wrenched one of your arms away to reveal your watery stare, the glassy sheen covering your eyes telling him everything he needed to know about how close to the edge you were. 

“Don’t hide from me. I want to see your face when you fall apart on my tongue.” 

“It’s embarrassing,” your voice shook, as did the hand Sebastian held in his own. “I can’t– it feels hot. Like I’m on fire. I can’t even think–” 

“Then don’t,” he interjected immediately, tenderly kissing the insides of your thighs in a way that made your stomach churn. “Don’t think. Just feel. Let me do all the work, and you just sit there and enjoy every second of it.” 

It was a simple enough concept, but you still yelped when he dove back in, the singular hand he kept on your waist pulling you down so he was smothered by your wet, pulsing cunt. Sebastian didn’t waste any time picking up where he’d left off, his eyes burning as your potent scent drove him into a frenzy. He inhaled sharply as his tongue poked and prodded incessantly, its only goal to collect as much of your slick as possible, the ferocity of his movements making you tremble. Your nerves were totally scorched as the heat within your body reached new levels, the pleasure building in your gut nearing a peak that you were almost afraid to fall over. 

“S-Sebastian, I can’t– ah!” Your words transformed into a keening moan when Sebastian sucked your puffy nub into his mouth again. The bedframe shook in time with your own vibrating, your eyes crossing as the symphony of ecstasy he gave to you climbed to its crescendo. Sebastian’s lungs burned from the lack of oxygen he sucked down, but he didn’t care. If he suffocated to death while fused to your sopping wet cunt, he would die a happy man. 

Breaking away from your clit for a brief moment, he hastily murmured, “Come on, love, let go. Use me and let go.” 

He released your arm and tucked his hand somewhere under his chest, your confusion lasting for all of two seconds before you felt his fingers snaking their way inside of you. There was no resistance thanks to the slick gushing from your hole, the wetness saturating his hand and making him groan with desire. Sebastian’s tongue continued to flick and press against your bundle of nerves with reckless abandon, his fingers pumping and curling in and out of you as you deliriously cried out his name. Your walls tightened around his digits, sucking them deeper at the same time your brows furrowed in alarm, and Sebastian knew he had you right where he wanted you. 

“Sebastian– wait, I can’t– I’m going to–” 

His eyes strained as he fixed them on your face, his lips barely parting from your clit as he encouraged you. “Come on, darling, come on my face. Be a good girl and let go– just let go.” 

The praise drove you clean over the edge, the coil in the pit of your stomach finally snapping as his voice and his fingers and his tongue reduced you to a quaking, moaning mess. Sebastian’s desperation for you consumed you, pure rapture washing over your limbs before they fell boneless against the mattress. Stars danced in the corners of your vision, and you heard and felt Sebastian groan against you before his unrelenting grip on your waist went slack. 

You hardly registered him slipping his fingers free from your cunt and climbing over you until his face was right in front of yours. Sebastian took a flurry of mental snapshots of you, tucking each one into the far reaches of his mind and vowing to himself that he would never forget the fucked-out expression you bore. He made a point to suck the remnants of your pleasure from his digits while maintaining eye contact, and you whimpered breathlessly at the sight. 

“You were so good for me,” Sebastian cooed as he gathered you up in his arms. He moved so his back was nestled against the pillows before repositioning you so your head was tucked against his shoulder. Soothingly, he carded his fingers through your hair as he asked, “Are you okay?” 

“Y-Yeah, I’m fine,” you managed between deep, shuddering breaths. “What about you?” 

“More than okay. Don’t you worry about me.” 

“But…” your eyes flicked down at the same time he tried to cover the blossoming wet patch on his pajama pants. “I thought you didn’t–”

Almost sheepishly, he admitted, “I did. Trust me, that did more for me than you could possibly imagine. I’m sorry for being so aggressive. And for being such a prick today. I just… it’s been hard to rein it in around you recently.” 

He felt your chin dig into the side of his pec as you glanced up at him, the virtuous, doe-eyed look you fixed him with threatening to undo him all over again. “Rein what in?” 

“You can’t honestly tell me you don’t realize the effect you have on me, right?” He pinched the bridge of his nose between his fingers, squeezing his eyes shut as he dredged up the very thoughts that had been hounding him for years. “I’m hopeless where you’re concerned. I get stupid. I act like a daft, brainless idiot, and you just strut about without a clue. I thought I’d finally gotten the hang of keeping that under control, but…” 

“Apparently not,” you helpfully supplied, and Sebastian grunted confirmingly. Those blasted trousers of yours had nullified the remnants of his restraint. So had your eyes. And your hands and your voice. All of you was to blame, really. Like he’d said from the very beginning; he was hopeless where you were concerned. 

“Anyway, thank you for… well, that.” 

“Please don’t thank me,” your face pinched, your body going rigid. “Then it will feel transactional, and I don’t want that.” 

Fair point. “What do you want, then?” 

That rosy flush reappeared against your cheeks, and Sebastian had to beat back the smile that threatened to split his face in the wake of your obvious shyness. “I– well… is there anything I can do for you?” 

Yes. No. Maybe? Sebastian’s laugh was humorless, mostly because there wasn’t anything funny about how his cock twitched in interest at the offer. “I don’t think we need to venture down that path right now. Especially since you’ve already given up so much tonight. I honestly feel kind of bad that your first experience was me jumping your bones…” 

“But what if that’s what I want?” His heart leapt up into his throat so fast that he nearly choked. The kind of uncertainty that went hand in hand with inexperience was written all over your face, but the stubborn set to your jaw told Sebastian that you were serious. Was he dreaming? Maybe he had passed out in the bathroom and this was all a very lovely, very cruel figment of his imagination. You pressed on, “Maybe I want to walk down that path with you. There’s no one else I trust as much as you, so… what would be the harm?” 

This time, Sebastian’s chuckle was genuine. He blinked rapidly, sucking in a deep breath in the hopes that it would settle his nerves and calm his racing blood. It didn’t work. “In that case, there’s plenty you could do for me, darling. I still think we should save it for next time, though.” 

You appeared to chew the inside of your cheek, your brows furrowing as you contemplated something that interested Sebastian to no end. Then, before he could process what you were doing, the hand that had been splayed against his chest inched down tauntingly, your nails dragging lightly across his skin. His breathing hitched, and then it stopped entirely when you gripped him through his pants. Much like he’d expected, the conversation had roused his cock back to life, and he was achingly hard in your hand. 

“I want ‘next time’ to be right now,” you declared stubbornly, pulling a hiss from him when your fingers rubbed over the sensitive head of his length. “I’m a little curious about this. You recovered pretty fast, but if you’re too tired…”

The wicked gleam in your eyes conveyed quite clearly that you knew exactly what you were doing. Where had the bashful innocence gone? Sebastian had blinked and suddenly it was like he was staring at a different woman, the challenge in your voice leaving him with one daunting realization. 

Either he had created a monster, or there had always been one lurking beneath the surface. 

His cock twitched again, and Sebastian knew that he was so, so fucked. 

[allroadstobeatopia]

Stay or just leave me be 𓇢𓆸

˚₊ · »-♡̷→ You're tired of Megumi leaving.

The day you confessed to him was one of the few things you dreaded thinking about.

The days leading up to it were however a bliss. You had let Yuji get into your head about how you were the perfect pair. Even worse when all you did was dream of it. How wrong he was

You knew Megumi was distant, that he wasn't easy to talk to. So you kept your distance at first, but when stolen glances and unmistakable tension added up

Perhaps you let yourself get closer, just a little bit.

Even when it seemed he didn't want to talk to you-to even be near you at all

The sign was staring straight at you when he had accepted your confession with nothing more than a mere nod.

Rough mission? You thought, deep down you knew otherwise. And i want it all the time

There wasn't much to say, it's not like he pushed you away, he just never held you close either. He held you in the palm of his hand, not tight enough to keep you from slipping through his fingers at any moment. while i'm yours and you are mine

Sometimes Yuji and Nobara got to see a glimpse of smile, even a laugh while at it. The only glimpse you ever saw was him coming back late after missions and walking straight back to his dorm. Guess there can't be problems if you two don't have anything to fight about. Going steady till we lie

Waiting hours for him didn't seem so bad when he gave you a kiss on the forehead afterwards. Now you can't remember the last time it happened. high at sunrise

Megumi notices all the little things, so naturally when you started pulling away he had the option to reach out and close the gap. Instead he turned a blind eye to it, it'd be easier if he didn't see your heart breaking into two. All I wanted was to see everything you see in me

He knows he could be better. He knew be the boyfriend you actually wanted. The loving couples on the street only made his soul sink further as the realization hit him, what the hell was he doing? everything I wanna be

The last straw was seeing him smile brightly at Nobara and Yuji after you all completed your mission. When you called for him, the rare glow in his eyes immediately gloomed back into that dull look the moment he turned. You don't think you've ever seen him that happy with you. high at sunrise

You knocked once, then twice on his door.

Stay

"Megumi." No answer. "Megumi I know you're in there, I saw you come in."

That got him to open the door.

Stay or just leave

The cold glare you became so used to came into view

"What is it?" At least try to sound even a little interested.

"I don't think we should be together anymore."

Stay or just leave me be

"What?" His eyes widened and his lips parted a bit in shock, was it bad if you thought that was the most reactive he'd ever been with you?

With that you turned and walked back down the hallway.

"No no no no no- hey wait!"

His fingers tightened around your wrist, but this you pulled away. Finally slipping through his fingers just like you knew it would happen one day.

His eyes stayed locked onto your shadowy figure until it blended with the shadows from the wall.

Stay or just leave me be

Way to go Fushiguro.

Nightmares feel like this, he knows because he's had them before. Except this is real.

Was this how you felt whenever he pulled away?

He'll give you some time, then he'll make it up to you. Then it'll all be okay, right?

Hah, Megumi thinks

He really couldn't just leave you be.

[kikiwie]

omg.. i love the no contact with kenma can u make some more with him? ^^ thank you!!

kenma during no contact .ᐟ.ᐟ

————————— 𐔌⋆🍊 ̟ ˚ !! 𐦯 —————————

your wish is my command, anon. hope you enjoy!! <3

he had no idea how much time had passed since you two stopped talking. his mental state continued to deteriorate. his hobbies and his room were filled with memories of you, and he didn’t know what to do with himself.

he would be lying if he said he didn't miss you because things have been difficult for him ever since the breakup. kuroo and shoyo tried to distract him by getting him out of the house, but it didn't work.

he had to check your social media accounts to see what you were up to, even if it felt like stalking. to make sure you were alright, at least.

after the breakup, you seemed to be doing well, which made him sad to see how miserable he was in contrast.

when your text message appeared, he wasn't sure if he was dreaming or not.

————————— 𐔌⋆🍊 ̟ ˚ !! 𐦯 —————————

[mayyhaps]

1800-FALL IN LOVE ! ─── LEVI ACKERMAN X READER

in which you've managed to piss off your number neighbour after one single message & the asshole's gone right ahead & ... blocked you !?

ok so it does look like yn is telling herself good luck but that was a mistake levi was supposed to say that whatever icbb fixing it

mind u yn never saved his name & she STILL didnt clock the number was the same despite searching the first few digits in her phone every time she wanted to talk to him

pride and prejudice actually stressed levi out he did not think he would enjoy it at all fast forward he was yelling at the actors like they were 1) real people & 2) could hear him. did he watch the series or the movie or the other movie who knows?

levi texts nonchalant but he was actually Sweating bro. didnt get a single nights good sleep since she said Tea Instead Of Coffee. like ok yea that's me. sweating & SHAKING

yns coworkers were actually done with her like. him? Him??? wallahi

sorry if your name is gregory

he was also incredibly unimpressed at yn's transcription of his attempted confession like me personally i would kms

masterlist ✲ join a taglist

@lizbix @alcyneus @stars4you777 @kissunday @1-800reki @riniaras @evesfairytale @livteracts @vorfreudevortex @adoresia @callme-naomi @little-hell-and-co @sgtsnowie @veilofsixeyes @residenteval

© mayyhaps. do not copy, translate, repost, or plagiarise my work, or feed it to ai.

[sukunastoenailclippings]

Satoru..fertilize me rn

Also winking yuji and smiling megumi

Nobara looks so cute

[eleonorehihi]

Saintkaylaa come back :(

Guys where has saintkaylaa gone to she was the god of smaus I miss her so bad

[losttraindreams]

That one time I got isekaied into a freak circus soulmate au: Chapter 4: Carnival Games

The freak circus does not belong to me, nor do any of the characters shown. Pierrot and any other characters mentioned belong to nekoboydreams here on tumblr. This is a polycircus fanfiction where you end up with all the clowns. Mc is all the circus members soulmate.

Chapter warnings: Nightmares, GreenApple (I will put before and after the break where it happens so it can be skipped if you don't like this ship), my attempt at flirty banter, betting (low stakes gambling)

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It was worse than you thought.

A total of 800 dollars to not only replace the starter but all the other missing bolts. Of course, you know a bulk of the money is for the labor. But why did this have to happen now of all times? Probably because you have a lovesick stalker of a soulmate.

Your boss recommended you and Carol to a friend who came out to your apartment. He seemed to know what he was talking about and was straight up on everything. After an assessment of the damages, he came up with that rough estimate of 800 dollars.

There goes not only your ride but also the bulk of the money you both saved for this trip.

You look at Carol seeing her sulking on the couch. Her lip trembled, probably still thinking about everything that happened. You hate seeing her like this, but knowing what will cheer her up.....

You wish you were more selfish at times. The things you do for love.

You walk over to the couch sitting beside her. "You know we still have enough money to go to the boardwalk and play some games there." You say wrapping an arm around her shoulder. "And if we hurry, we'll make it in time to see the carnival." As much as you don't wanna go, you know it will make her happy. Carol has always been a horror fan. She even keeps dvds of some of the classics like Jason and Chucky in her room.

Carol glaces at you, the frown on her face a little less deep than it was before. "What about our trip?"

I give a weary smile, hoping Carol won't notice how anxious I am. "I heard stay-cations are all the rage now." I rub her back, reassuring her. "Plus, I always wanted to walk the city."

"... But you hate circus's." She looks at me with a knowing look.

"Come on C let's make the best of this crappy situation. Plus, you seemed really excited about that circus." I playfully punch her shoulder, making her giggle in response. "Tomorrow, we can even head to the park or on a hike." It's too cold to see any real wildlife, but it's something free you both can do.

She laughs, your optimism finally rubbing off on her. "You'd really do anything for me, won't you?" She says, looking at you before her eyes drift down to the soulmark on your neck. Her smile drops as she sees it. "I wonder how long that will last?" She sounds resigned to something she knows in inevitable.

You grab both her shoulders, shaking her slightly. "Carol, no one could ever replace you!" You tell her. "You're my best friend, and I'll do anything for you soulmates or not!" She doesn't realize how true this is.

You honestly don't think she ever will either.

The lengths you've gone to get her away from her messed up family. The things you've done to bring her out of her depression since high school. Heck, you've even given up on ever being with your soulmates just so you can save her life.

She's become more than just a character from a video game to you. She's become your best friend in this life, and you don't know what you'd do without her.

She looks at you with an indescribable look that reminds you of someone in a desert who just found water. "I wish you were my soulmate..." She mumbles low so you don't understand her.

"What?" You ask confused.

She gives you a small smile shaking her head "I just said yeah soulmates or not."

Standing up, she takes the jeans you made her off the seat next to her. "Now let's try on these bad boys and head to that carnival on the boardwalk."

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Carol looks at you like you've gone crazy. Maybe you have because, along with your patchwork jeans, you're wearing gloves, a high collar shirt, and a pair of boots to go with it.

It's quite the contrast to her fit which just consists of a long sleeve shirt with one of those lace tube tops underneath. "What I'm cold okay!?" You exclaim. It's not like you can tell her your hiding from your soulmates.

"Sure you are." She rolls her eyes. "If you get heat stroke, I'm not calling an ambulance." She says with her arms crossed.

You take her threat with a grain of salt. "You wouldn't do that. I'm too loveable to lose." She grins, only saying in your dreams before grabbing her keys.

You both set off to the boardwalk to play sketchy carnival games and eat mass amounts of junk food. Unfortunately, due to your gloves, you can't see the faint glow of the green heart on your hand. It seems you have another stalker.

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You both finally make it to the boardwalk by noon. You're greeted by the sound of people screaming and carnival rides operating. The tickets were more expensive than the circus's but it's not like you both have anything else to spend money on. Besides funnel cakes and popcorn, that is.

"So what do you- Wahhh?!" You're grabbed by Carol before you can ask your question. Her grip is strong as she enthusiastically drags you through the crowd like a dog on a leash. You look to see where she's going only to see one of the carnivals many spin rides.

This one is a big green octopus. Each tentacle moved and had a seat that spun. You're suddenly glad it took the both of you an hour to walk here. Otherwise, you're certain you'd both be throwing up your breakfast by the end.

You have a feeling today will be really exciting.

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As you and Carol stumble off the octopus ride, a figure watches you with hungry interest. They look at the two of you as you go to a new ride. They follow you through the carnival, always staying close enough to see you but not be noticed.

You and Carol get tired of rides she decided to save the big Mondo Monster roller coaster for last. The red and black alligator that bared a striking resemblance to Godzilla reminded you of someone. Or it would if any of the monster art of Pierrot was canon. When you died in your last life, there was only speculation on what Pierrot looked like. You always ascribed to the belief he was more lizard-like, but the furry wolf like appearance most fans gave him always had a special place in your heart. You remember she really liked the idea of Pierrot being more on the fuzzy side.

You wonder how she's doing. If you think hard enough you can still see her singing the latest pop songs while you both walk home. Her soft locks sway in the wind as you tell her about random game theories. God you sound like some old man talking about the one that got away. Wow you haven't thought about her in a while. Why is she suddenly on your mind?

"Hey!" You hear Carol call your name beconing you over to a balloon pop game. It's one of those toss the dart and pop a balloon for a prize type game.

"This looks like it's rigged." You say watching as people buy darts only to miss each toss. Something tells you the balloons are just far enough away that most people will miss the toss.

Carol looks too humming before remarking " Yeah but what carnival rides aren't rigged?" You nod saying she has a good point. Then you both walk over prepared to lose it all for the allure of a cheap plushie.

You pay 20 bucks for 20 darts, 10 darts for each of you.

Carol goes first. You figure she'll have a better chance at throwing them than you. Both of you occupied 1 lane. Carol threw one colorful dart at a time, each missing the balloon one after the other. Soon, she was out of darts, and none managed to even come close to the balloon. "It's rigged. We have no hope of winning. Our fates are sealed, my dear Queen Carol. " You say already resigned to your fate.

Now it's your turn not really trying you throw a dart. It briefly flies through the air before landing on the ground just below the balloon. You hear Carol exclaim something but ignore her while you pick up a new dart. You're not really into these games mainly cause you know your chances of winning are slim to none. So might as well have fun just throwing the darts, right?

"Pfft." You hear someone stifle a laugh, you pause next to you stands a tall man covered up from head to toe. He's definitely a monster, no other hints needed. You've seen a few other monsters enjoying the carnival, probably drawn out more by the circus's presence. Since they don't have to hunt and scavenge for a while, many of them have been out more.

He's wearing a face mask and shades along with an oversized hoodie and some sweats. On his head is a handmade faded green hat with two cat ears on top. You can tell it's old but very well loved by the heart shaped patches that have been sewn onto it.

Oddly enough this guy isn't sending off any alarm bells like Pierrot and the Doctor did. You're starting to get used to the appearance of these monsters. He's still uncanny though, you can tell he has something wrong with him. Even covered up his unusual height and slight protrusions you can see on his body gives him away. On the bright-side at least he's not as unsettlingly tall like Doctor and Pierrot are.

"Oh yeah, and you think you can do better?!" You hear Carol say. Looking over your shoulder, you see Carol who's glaring at the man. Her arms are crossed as she mean mugs him. He picks up a dart, having already paid for some. " Yeah, I can definitely do better than you and your..." He looks over to you. Even though you can't see his eyes, you can feel them rake over every inch of your body. "Sweet little friend." You hear the playful tone in his voice he's clearly enjoying riling Carol up.

"Is that a bet?!" Carol says smiling though it doesn't reach her eyes. For a second, you're reminded of a meme with a monkey rage baiting a lion. But you're brought back by what the man says next. "Sure, I bet your friend can't hit a single balloon. If you win, you get 20 bucks. If I win...." He takes a second to think about what he wants finally settling on something after a moment. "I get a kiss."

You can practically hear the smirk in his voice as he says this. Oh, great, a monster and a pervert. He's probably thinking he'll get lucky with Carol. Unfortunately for him, it's not that easy to get into her pants.

"I am not kissing you." Carol says, giving him a disgusted look. The man, monster?, scoffs like it's the most outlandish thing he's heard, "Not from you." He turns to you, you catch a glimpse of his green eyes over his shades before he pushes them up. "From your cute friend."

You gulp and feel heat coming into your face. You know you aren't ugly, but you've also never been someone who anyone's ever wanted. Even in high school, most only flirted with you to get to Carol or someone else you were friends with. But this guy seems completely interested in you, considering he blew Carol off so quick.

Maybe you're only attractive to monsters? That would explain why all your soulmates are monsters. You still feel his gaze on you as you go to take a dart. Carol says your name probably to tell you you don't have to do this. "Fine. You're on Mr. Gremlin. But take that up to 40 bucks, and we have a deal." You don't know why, but you feel like challenging this guy.

You see his grin widen under his facemask as he says, "Deal." He holds out a green gloved hand, the ends tipped with claws. You shake his hand, cementing the bet. Carol notices his gloves commenting "Whats up with the Halloween gloves that's not till next month?" The man chuckles. "I like to celebrate early." Before Carol can question him more, you pick up a dart now more focused than ever. After all, your pride, dignity, lips, and 40 dollars are on the line. Taking a breath, you let go and watch the dart fly.

It hits just beside the balloon, not even coming close to it. "Oh no, so close." The man snickers, taking one of his own darts and throws it. The dart lands directly on the balloon in front of him.

A loud POP is heard as the balloon bursts.

The very tired looking carnival employee unenthusiastically gives him a congratulations before asking what prize he wants. "I think I already have a prize, but I'll take the green octopus." The employee hands him the plush. He takes his remaining 4 darts, dropping them with the rest of yours. Leaning in close your face, he says. "Here's some extra. Something tells me you'll need it.~" This guy is really trying to fire you up. You hate to say it but it's working.

Feeling determined you pick up another dart to try again and fail. Each time you throw one you're either too far off or it lands right next to the balloon. It frustrates you to no end especially when that gremlin snickers behind you.

After missing 11 times you're finally on your last dart. It's one of the ones he gave you. You feel dread pool in your stomach. If you lose it's over you'll never be able to face Carol again.

The dart flies through the air it makes a small woosh sound as it does. You watch as it begins to drop the force of your throw not being able to sustain itself. Your hope wanes. But just as you accept your fate of making out with a random hot monst- wait what? Did you really just think that pervert was hot?

A loud POP sounds bringing you out of your thoughts.

You did it! You popped the balloon! You hear Carol cheer your name. Then, you feel her smash into your side. She let's out a loud squeal hugging you tightly.

You end up picking out a plush of Mondo Lizard as your prize. He's adorable, and victory is sweet. "Ha, I win now. Pay up, Gremlin!" You hand the plush lizard to Carol. Then with one hand on your hip you hold out the other to receive your real prize.

You're on top of the world nothing can bring you down now.

"Sure, it seems you got me, madam." He doesn't sound upset as he reaches into his pocket, pulling out the 40 dollars he owes you. Instead, he sounds elated? Why is he happy he lost?

The man places the money in your hand. Doesn't matter because you still got 40 dollars!~ You smirk, looking at the money before noticing a bright green circus ticket in your hand as well. The green ticket of the one and only Harlequin of The Freak Circus.

Awe shit.

The smirk is wiped off your face, a look of shock coming over you. You look up at the man whose glasses have slid down his face again. His green eyes crease at the edges telling you he's smiling wide at your surprised expression. "Why the shocked face?" He leans in grabbing your chin, pulling you slightly forward. "Isn't that everything you wanted and a little extra?" He lets out a little snicker at the end.

The money doesn't matter anymore to you now you're really mad.

"That bet wasn't fair! I didn't know I was playing against a professional!" You exclaim, making even Harlequin jump a little. He lets go of your chin, clearly not expecting you to say that. He doesn't say anything too stunned by your reaction. Then he laughs, not one of the ones from earlier. This is a real laugh.

"You won, though." He gets out through laughs. You get closer to him an irritated look on your face. "That doesn't matter! Now, it makes sense why you won on your first toss!" Now that you know this is Harlequin, everything makes sense now.

"Hey, now don't make any new bets." Carol says, putting an arm around you, trying to pull you back. She knows you too well. You pull away from her and turn facing her with a smile on your face. That smile immediately tells her all she needs to know. "It's okay! Cause now I have 40 dollars to bet with." You say grinning from ear to ear.

She looks exasperated, but she's the one who started this. She's beginning to remember why she never challenges you to a bet. You might say you don't have a gambling addiction, but there's a good reason she stays clear of any betting when she's with you.

Harlequin puts a hand over his mouth, still snickering. Clearly enjoying every second of this. "You're going to bet the 40 dollars you just won?" He raises an eyebrow.

You take a step closer to him a sly smirk coming to your face. "I'm just returning it to the dealer to see if he'll give me more." He has a steamy look in his eyes, clearly liking the little competition you're in. "Why stop at winning once after all?" You finish nearly chest to chest with him.

"Oh? Well madam what's the next bet gonna be?" You immediately brighten up at his question. "I'm glad you asked!~" Pointing to one of the few carnival games that rely on luck rather than skill. You know you won't win if it comes down to skill considering Harlequin has faster reflexes and greater strength than you. So the only game you both can play is disc drop!

Disc drop is a game where players drop a disc in a board full of wooden pins landing at the bottom by chance. It's a purely luck based game that your certain you'll either win or come to a stalemate with.

"We will play the disc drop and if I win you give me another free circus ticket!" You exclaim grabbing his free hand and pulling him towards the game. You don't notice how he looks down at your hand an odd look coming to his eyes. But Carol does, the whole interaction Carol has been silently watching you both go at it. At first she didn't like the guy he seemed creepy with his bet. But now that she sees the sparks happening between you two.... she decides to take a backseat to whatever you both have going on. It's nice to see a guy wanting you for a change. She'll just stick to just following you two for now and make sure you don't end up betting more than a kiss with this guy.

Cause while having a kiss with someone who is not your soulmate isn't bad. Having sexual relations is usually frowned upon but many still do it. Carol has never heard you talk about your soulmates so she doesn't know your stance on this stuff but shed rather you save that for one of them just in case the marks lead to romance.

"Oh and what will I get if I win?" He asks while looking at the rules for the disc drop. "If you win I'll do whatever that devious little mind of yours can think up." This causes him to look at you a mischievous glint in his eyes. "Within reason of course!" You say quickly. "Can't have you asking me to streak down the boardwalk now can I?"

The corners of his eyes crease as he looks down at you. "Of course, but be careful. You might not be able to handle what I want." He wiggles his eyebrows at you, making you roll your eyes back at him. "Try me." You say amused with how bold he is.

He takes the green octopus plushies tentacles and wraps them around his waist. "Okay, just don't get shy on me when I tell you what you want." He winks at you and pays the booth worker. Grabbing a puck, he drops it in between the pins, beginning your game of bets.

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You ended up being right about the drop disc ending in a stale mate. What surprised you more was how most of the other games ended similarly, usually in a tie. You tried every game that was either luck based or needed a good amount of skill, and all of them ended in a stale mate. Even though you haven't won a single game against the green menace you can't deny you aren't having fun.

A tiny part of you can't help but scream out how wrong this all was. Harley was one of your soulmates you were trying to avoid. Yet you can't help but want to have more fun with him.

In your past life, you absolutely hated Harlequin at first, preferring Pierrot over the green clown. It wouldn't be till you started reading fanfictions about the green gremlin that you began to like him more. Pierrots' sweet nature is what drew you in, but Harley's spicy sass is what ultimately hooked you. He ended up being a very complex character who made you learn more about him through the creators comics and in-game.

By the end, you were just as infatuated with Harlequin as you were with Pierrot.

Maybe that's part of why you kept playing games with him. Unfortunately, deep down, you know all games have to end even if you don't want them to.

You and Harley end up at the final game the carnival has to offer, the ring toss. It is one of the most skill based games at any carnival. It requires players to toss a ring and get it to land on one of many bottles. The rigged part of this game is that the rings are so small that you have to toss them perfectly in order to have it land on one of the bottles. This means this is a game you're sure to lose. Hopefully, the rigged parts of the game will mess him up, too.

"Seems like this is the end of the road." Harley says, picking up a ring that looks no bigger than a child bracelet in his hand. Even if he is smaller than Pierrot, he still hits the 6 foot range when it comes to height. "I have one last chance at winning our little bet."

"With your track record this game will end in a tie. Looks like even professionals can't win against carnival rigging." You stick your tongue out at him as you say this. Grabbing your own ring, you get ready to toss it. Maybe if you spin it that will help you get it on the bottle better.

Just as you begin to throw it, Harley suddenly gets close to you. "Keep teasing me, and I'll put that tongue of yours to good use." You hear a voice whisper in your ear, making you lose focus and throw the ring away from the bottles. The ring flies through the air and hits a sign on another booth.

You hear Carol cover her mouth behind you trying to hide her laughter. but you'll get that traitor back later. Turning your head to Harlequin, you see he's moved further away. "Oh no, you missed how terrible." You can hear the shit eating grin in his tone. "You did that on purpose." You say lowly a slight edge to your voice.

"Why so mad? I was standing right here the whole time." He holds up his hands in faux surprise. "How could I possibly do anything from this far away." You groan looking back at Carol to back you up right now. Instead she shakes her head, so much for best friends. But only true friends stab you in the back.

Harlequin steps up to take his turn, clearly believing he's won. But you have other plans.

He gets ready to toss the ring. But just before he fully lets it go, you quickly pull yourself up using his shoulder. On your tip toes, you lick the small bit of skin he has showing through his mask. As you both spent time together, you noticed he had a small patch of white skin showing. It was between the end of his mask and where his ear would be if it weren't for his curly hair covering it.

You expected to taste white grease paint or chalky makeup. But instead, you just got a taste of white foundation and felt the smooth feeling of his skin on your tongue. It felt soft like a snakes skin, and you could almost feel the texture of scales beneath the heavy makeup. No paint got on your tongue much to your relief they probably use a waterproof foundation in case of rain.

Harlequin jumps when he feels you lick him, losing all force behind his throw. The ring doesn't even make it to the table instead landing on the floor boards of the booth. The employee behind the counter says something like better luck next time. Before moving on to some more customers.

Seems like you were right. This game did end in a tie yet again.

"Darn looks like you missed buddy." Harley looks down at you, who is still holding onto his arm. He has a flabbergasted look on his face. "What's wrong? I just figured I'd put my tongue to good use." You whisper to him, making sure only he heard what you said. His green eyes are practically pin pricks as they glow behind his dark shades.

The smile leaves your face, did you go too far? You know licking him was a little gross. But you definitely didn't wanna give him a kiss since that's what he asked for in your first bet. Maybe you got a bit too ahead of yourself. You let out a squeak as Harley in one fatal swoop pulls his arm away from you. The movement makes you lose your balance for a second, only to feel his arms wrap around you.

"Bold move. Was that really just a distraction, or were you trying to tempt me?" Harlequin is now close to your face, almost a breath away. It's worser than you thought. Instead of disgusting him, you accidentally turned him on! "Are you ready for what comes next, my little minx?" You gulp suddenly, feeling really shy as he softly grips your chin. "Oh? Don't get shy on me now." You feel his hands move lower, stopping at your lower back. He leans in about to kiss you through his black face mask.

"Sir! Ma'am! This is a family establishment." You hear the booth worker say. This makes you come out of whatever trance you where in. Jumping back you use both arms to push yourself away from Harley. He puts both his hands up and gives an irritated look to the worker. You exclaim a loud "Sorry!" feeling completely flustered by what just happened.

Looking to Carol for help, she smiles nervously and quickly says, "Does anyone want funnel cakes?"

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You, Harlequin, and Carol sit at a picnic table with two funnel cakes. After that spicy moment with Harley, you're glad Carol suggested funnel cakes.

Not even 5 minutes after you all sat down, Carol gets up to get forks. You try to tell her you don't need any, but she's already gone before you can do anything. Now you find yourself sitting next to Harlequin while being abandoned by Carol.....Traitor.

You sigh, not knowing why she's started acting so strange ever since Harlequin joined your little group. After you won that first bet, she's been oddly quite just standing in the background. Which is so unlike her. Usually, she's more vocal than you when it comes to playing games.

You feel someone blow into your ear, making you jump in your seat. Letting out a squeak, you cover the ear Harley blew in. You quickly turn to him. He is once again coving his mouth, trying and failing to muffle his manic laughter. "You really like to tease me don't you?" You say oddly, not upset.

Harlequin looks down at you, his eyes half lidded. "That depends, madam. Does my teasing disturb or excite you?" He leans in again, trying again to kiss you, but before he can, you cover his mouth. He opens his eyes, quirking an eyebrow at you. "I really shouldn't kiss a stranger. It's wrong." You say despite already knowing who he is. He gives you a deadpan look, clearly thinking about you licking him earlier.

"I mean, I don't even know your name. Also, me licking you was very in the moment! I don't even know what came ov -" He covers your hand with his pressing it more against his mouth in a faux kiss. "I'm the Harlequin dear one." With that, he lets go of your hand.

You hold the hand he kissed to your chest lamenting that you'll wash it away in the shower later. You tell him your name, Harley being the first circus member you actually told your name to. He's also the first member you've properly met besides the Doctor.

Soon after that, Carol comes back and you both finish your funnel cakes. They are good, but you can't wait to get home and eat some real food. Maybe you shouldn't have eaten them because the final ride for the day was the Mondo Lizard roller coaster. Of course, Harlequin didn't eat anything claiming he wasn't hungry. You invited him on the ride with you and Carol, but he also declined that saying he had to go. Considering his disguise might get ruined, you try not to feel too disappointed.

As you get ready to head to the coaster, Harley grabs your hand. "Also, I don't have much use for this thing. Maybe you can use it for something." He unwraps the plush octopus he won earlier from around his waist. He holds it out to you as an offering a soft look in his eyes. It looks almost strange on him.

"Thank you." You say, taking the plushie from his hand. The devious glint in his eyes returns. "Well, if you really wanna, thank me-" You grip his shirt, pulling him down to your level. Giving him a small kiss on the cheek, you pull back and turn to actually leave. Quickly running past Carol, you beeline to the roller coaster. You don't want Harlequin to see you in a flushed state anymore than he already has today. You hear Carols quick strides behind you along with the sound of Harleys uproar of laughter.

God, why did you have to have such irrespirable soulmates.

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The smoke is heavy as you call out into it. You cough, trying to clear your lungs, but it doesn't work.

You can barely see anything in this fire, but you know he's in here somewhere. The fire has burnt away parts of your clothes and singed your skin.

If you don't get out of here soon, you're sure you'll die. But you can't leave him here either.

Your soulmark glows bright the only light besides the flames in this hellish landscape. You call out again, praying he can hear you. Your prayers are answered when over the kindling of the flames you hear him yell out your name. Heading towards his voice, your soulmark glows brighter.

The flames seem to get hotter as you continue on. A loud crack is heard, and a wooden beam falls from the ceiling. It lands next to you, adding to the chaos of the situation. The whole place is coming down right in front of you!

It won't stop you though.

You finally make it to him even though you can't see him, you know it's him. Your soulmark on him glows brightly against his dark skin. Theres a few beams laying over his body, effectively trapping him. He says something, but you can't hear him over the roar of the flames.

You don't care either knowing he's probably telling you to save yourself. But you've never been one to just let someone you love die.

Trying to pick up one of the beams you struggle with it before getting it off him. One down four to go.

The flames are getting hotter now. Your soulmate now yells at you. You ignore him again. If you can get these beams off him, then you both can escape. You go to pick up another beam coughing the whole time. It's getting really hard to breathe.

"He-"

You move it off him and move on to the next one. It's smaller, so it's a bit easier.

"He- wha- up we're---- ere."

What is that voice? Your vision gets blurry as you grab the third. This one burns you. You realize it's made of metal. It burns the skin off your hands as you throw it to the side. Well, it looks like you'll never sew again. Shaking your head, you cough up some blood. That's not good. There's only one more left.

"Wak- u---p!"

With your last bit of strength, you pull the final beam off him, finally freeing him. You fall to the ground, heaving in more of the toxic fumes. You feel someone grip your shoulders.

"WAKE UP!"

You get shaken violently. You wake up a slight scream coming from you. Looking around in panic, you're met with the inside of the city bus. The plushies you and Carol won in the corner of the seat.

"Oh my god, are you okay, girl?!" Carol asks, clearly worried. "You wouldn't wake up for a second there. I got worried you were-" She doesn't finish that thought, instead grabbing the plushies. "Come on, let's drop these off at home. We can skip the circus tonight if you don't feel good."

You shake your head, looking up at her, noticing you've been at your stop the whole time. You look to the front of the bus, noticing the bus driver is looking back at you. He has a look of concern one of his hands on his walkie-talkie, probably about to call EMS.

You get up and quickly get off the bus with Carol. Before you leave you thank the bus driver for waiting for you and apologize for the hold-up. You and Carol continue down the street and try to doge her questions. You know she's worried but you don't want to talk about it. At least not now, and definitely not with Carol.

You remember, in the game, the Mc saw visions of Columbina's death. Could that have been another vision of Columbina dying?

That makes no sense she died on the moonless night eaten by her friends. Though you guess she could've instead died in a fire. This is a fanfiction you've gotten isekaied into, not the actual game. That could also explain the odd reactions you've gotten from the circus members so far. God, could this be any more confusing.

You sigh, not knowing what lays ahead for you at the circus.

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

· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·

Elsewhere in the red tent, the ever silent Pierrot gets ready for his performance tonight. He sits on a stool backstage sharpening his knives. He is hoping his lady will come tonight. He's unsure after the night before, but Ticket Taker reassured him that you would appear either tonight or tomorrow night. Either way, he can't hold back his excitement, wanting to see the beautiful look on your face when you see his performance.

A familiar smell hits his nose, dispelling his previous thoughts, the grip on his knife tightening. "Why are you so upset? Shouldn't you want to see one of your dear soulmates?" The teasing voice of Harlequin comes to his ears. He growls as the green clown stalks closer to him. "I'm guessing you've heard then?" Harley says, and much to his delight, the red clown tilts his head in a silent question. Harley smirks and takes a seat right on Pierrots lap, wrapping his arms around his neck. "I gave our darling soulmate my ticket earlier! I wonder if she'll use it tonight?"

This makes Pierrot growl, even louder, bringing his knife to Harlequins face. The sharp tip cuts him slightly, leaving a small trail of blood behind. Harley snickers, leaning in, letting the tip of the knife run across his cheek. "What? Couldn't give that spicy little pepper your ticket?"

Pierrot grabs Harley's thigh with his free hand, digging his claws into the poisonous clowns thigh. "Pierrot jealously doesn't look good on you. Green is my color after all." Harley continues to rile up the clown telling him all the things you both did today. "In the end, I even got a kiss. You should have been there her lips are as soft as ever." At this, Pierrot drops his knife to the ground instead of grabbing Harley's throat in a strong grip. Harlequin gasps, letting out a small moan before Pierrot kisses him, forcing his tongue down his throat. The two clowns engage in a heated kiss. Soon, they pull apart the two panting after an intense make-out.

"What trying to taste her on my lips? You won't get anywhere like that." The green menace laughs at Pierrots' frustration before pulling the bigger clown in for another fierce kiss.

"Ugh, can you two not! We have a show to put on!" A voice sounds making the two clowns pull apart. Harley just grins getting off Pierrot, who stands up looking apologetic. "Alright, I'll go get ready, I suppose." Harley says, one last look of mischief coming over his face.

To anyone passing by the tent, a loud smack is heard, followed by footsteps and maniacal laughing. Harlequin bursts out of Pierrots tent as a barrage of knives is thrown at him. This is followed by a roar from a blushing Pierrot.

· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·

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

Authors note: I'm not gonna lie writing Harley was hard for me. I'm not good with witty or sassy characters. I'm still not satisfied with the dialogue, but it will have to do. Especially since I accidentally forgot to hit the save button and ended up deleting all the dialogue in this chapter. I ended up rewriting this multiple times to try and get back to the first dialogue I was happy with. No dice, though :''3

Also, a fun fact about this chapter is that Pierrot was supposed to follow Mc as well. He was also supposed to poison Carol to get her out of the way. Unfortunately, as I wrote, that plotline just didn't work. Instead, we got a Harley centric chapter. Also, to anyone wondering why Mc suddenly is okay spending time with Harley. Its because of the soulmark making Mc want to be closer to them.

The mark is actively slowly making Mc want them more as the members spend time around them. Truthfully the second Pierrot started stalking Mc the soulmark started to initiate the pull.

Also, to anyone upset about the GreenApple scene, they're all soulmates with each other. Some are closer and more open to romance than others, but they all are in a semi-romantic relationship with each other and mc. You can skip these parts if you like, but there may be future romance between the clowns in future chapters. I will put * before and at the end of any parts where this happens so you can skip it, though.

The next chapter is titled Circus Act 1

Tags: @tmrs-basilisk @8-sinner-8 @sum1ko @snowfire0313 @jellypotato66 @noclue-0 @andreacerecita @bitchynightmarepost @cjmultyfandom

[raytoebiter]

xxv. circles (written work)

For one to say you were feeling horrendously sick was an awful understatement—no, it felt like you were in fucking perdition. The last moment you vividly recall that might be the cause of this, other than being on your phone last night, was being woken up at somewhat past an hour of the godforsaken devil's hour when your beloved grandmother had placed her warm, cold, neutral (?) palm on your clammy forehead and with a sagely tone, asked you to sit up straight.

Of course, as the loving granddaughter you were, you groggily complied.

You were then forced to drink a mini-sized dildo down your sticky throat—and don't carelessly assume that you immediately started choking like a dying seal, because you absolutely fucking did.

Then, after all that, was a static black-out. 

And here you were in present times, in absolute fucking trenches; viscuous throat feeling as if someone shoved a cigarette, nose still fucking clogged, breathing disconcertingly erratic, and of course, your goddamn headache.

Well, for all that it's worth, at least you didn't get sleep paralysis. 

You wearily sighed, the sound coming out rickety and raspy; at some point when you had woken up all numb and sweaty, you eagerly conjured up a prolific plan to do your daily customs as is your wonts—god, it was supposedly a productive day, truly—when out of the goddamn blue, your stupid limbs just fucking decided to succumb back to the disheveled blankets, and prick dumbass fucking needles all over your arms which, fucking ow. 

Your half-lidded eyes roamed around the stygian room, particularly lingering on a chink of your glaucous curtains that sporadically let loose a harsh ray of light. It's probably morning. You couldn't really tell, with the shitty clock just being engulfed in darkness and your body too fucked up to even consider moving a fucking inch from the mattress. 

Not only that, if you went back to sleep, you're definitely guaranteed a visit from the sleep paralysis asshole.

Goddamn.

So, it began the utterly execrable and utterly self-induced waiting game for the shitty grim reaper.

—

As it turns out, the shitty waiting game for the goddamn reaper had somehow turned into a mildly concerning hallucinogenic 21-Questions with your illusory friends. Concerning, is what Tighnari (the prick in your ass) would have said. You've learned over the years to just send the asshole in your head the stinky eye and dismissively wave him off. 

(It never really works, considering that just by the next goddamn day, the same prick in your ass would materialize out of the confines of your own mind, and appear in front of you within the quaint library with arms disapprovingly crossed and a deadpan stare that could rival a familiar Professor.)

You begrudgingly ended up on count 127th of how many wiggly, brown lines adorned the intricate and nuanced design of your ceiling just at the far end of your right when a stoic voice too reminiscent of a particular doting older brother emerges from downstairs, and you have briefly half a mind of just chucking your entire fucked up sanity out of the window.

Like, seriously. Why the fuck is Albedo here? You supposed it was better than Scaramouche, but like for universe's sake, why. 

Your exhale comes out rickety and that's just absolutely erroneous, because it's supposed to come out exasperated, exhausted, tired, annoyed, dreadful—

‘Okay, now that's a little too mean,’ You think wistfully, willing your limbs to fucking move, for fuck’s sake, did the fever genuinely put you through orgasm torture, like archons, can I fucking stand—

“[Name], [Name], [Nameee],” Albedo monotonously drawls just right outside the door, and it elicits a knee-jerk reaction out of your fucked body instead of a proper, coherent response, “Hey, so. I bought soup? And your homework? And your Review MATs?  And your will to live? You should be grateful for that one, you know.”

“Oh, wow,” You reply dryly, all hoarse and raspy, “Did you finally buy me a Porsche?”

The wooden door clicks against the quaint silence, and Albedo’s gaze lands on you for a scanty second before it odiously scrunches to a subtle Lips-Quirked, Narrowed-Eyes, Furrowed-Brows bundle of an expression, and wow, so fucking rude, I’m literally dying, and you scowl at the sight of my damn corpse. This is horrible, Albedo. You're horrible, and I don't deserve this—

“—Yeah, you really don't deserve my benevolence, sometimes, man,” His stoic voice is brusque, but the white and red plastic bags dangling on his index and middle finger starkingly says otherwise; a soft, snarky smile creeps to your face at the sight, and at this, he simply continues, “Also, when I said ‘will to live’, I meant me, by the way. You really should be grateful for that one.”

A flamboyant roll of your eyes as you pathetically attempted for a cushy position that resembles somewhat of the criss cross one, and rather unfortunately and ultimately, you ended up with your clammy back against the stiff headboard and ribs, lungs, chest too fucking pernicious for anything vigorous. 

“So, did everyone finally abandon me? Why are you here?”

Albedo's eyes settle onto that deadpan stare that speaks volumes of what bout of stupidity you spouted, however, sensing that you're probably just out of it—a long, piqued sigh ripples out his sternum as he amicably pulls out your desk chair, and plops on it.

“Yeah, they did,” Your shitty best friend said satirically as his gaze scrutinized your presumably disheveled form, “Last I checked, taking care of each other is custom, no? Also, you look like crap. Eyebags, teeth unbrushed, messy hair, did you go through a breakup? Too bad I bought soup.”

Another theatrical roll of your eyes, “You guys have exams in four days.”

“Two, actually.”

“You dumbass, don't put the soup near the papers—wait, what? Wait. Pause. Did you just say fucking—two!? Are you serious!? Wait, wait, wait, wait, what the fuck, I'm sick, I'm dying, and there's exams in two—two days!? Fuck, wait, I’m actually—this is—”

“Calm down, [Name]. Jeez, you genuinely have phlegm sticking to your voice, by the way.” He unabashedly remarks, and you're gratefully far too accustomed to his blunt quips that you just resort to internally spiralling in your faint head instead, because, what the fuck, while you were dying and writhing, everyone was studying, and because of your irresponsible ass, you're gonna fail education—

“You're not gonna fail education if you're just gonna sit there, and not drink this soup. I wasted money for this, by the way. Please lock in.”

“No, you stop patronising me, and—oh my god, wait, you just came back from babysitting Klee, didn't you?” The blond-haired lightly groans in response at the segue, listlessness clinging onto the tip of his fingers as he nimbly undoes the knots in the plastic bags. With chary, he places all the steaming dishes on the desk, and your unruly complexion beams at the delectables.

An imperceptible smile tugs on his lips as he rummages for the wooden, small spoons within the bags, “How was your sleep at least?”

“Fine, I guess. No sleep paralysis this time,” Your face scrunches in an egregious wince, recalling how horrid it had been the last time the universe granted you deemed enough for a personal visit in pseudo-perdition, “I think I passed out while reading through articles last night.”

Faint anamnesis of Reddit posts, lengthy articles, and bright sites about a thorough analysis of Cesare Pavese’s poem, “The Boy That Was In Me,” popped in your mind. It was a solid poem that perfectly embodied a child’s defeat against a powerful adult in prose; a puerile rage contained within a child's heart, yet all too fragile to hold on to it anyway. 

Unbeknownst of your internal analysis vomit, Albedo simply hums, the sound willowing through the tad bit nippy air alongside the faint susurrates of the leaves outside of your house. After scanty minutes of continuous rummaging noises, a long, hard stare into the wall across from you, and the constant niggling ache deep in your limbs because of the fucking malady the universe decided to fuck you over, Albedo finally decides to break the silence with a light tap on your forearm.

“I bought chicken broth with tons of ginger, you should probably eat that first. I also bought chocolate cake, since..” He lightly narrowed his eyes, in that particular crinkle that tells of vexation, “Hu tao insisted it would be like a reward, or something. Kinda makes it sound like you're a dog, no?”

Slight ire twists your stare into a glare, pointed directly to Albedo's own, yet the smile that crept to your face in mirth spoke enough anyway, “Seriously? A dog? Why are you even here, isn't it class already?”

"I'm surprised you moved on quickly from the fact that exams are, like, two days away.”

“The soup distracted me,” You remarked dismissively, ogling the vapor leaving out of the small tupperware, then back to Albedo with a stubborn huff and narrowed eyes, “You didn't answer my question, why are you here?”

Then, of course, the shitty best friend that he is, which you should definitely revoke the implied positive adjective there because he is anything but of the sort, has the gall to lightly roll his eyes, stand to his feet with an offhanded wave of a hand, and utter along the words of, “You're gonna do a dumb attempt of altruism, and you're going to keep nagging me to leave. All of us have experienced that, so I'm just gonna head downstairs until you finish the soup, so just call me, okay?”

Which—Okay, whatever, fair point. You do only get clingy for wellness when inebriated with the agonizing and painstaking ailment, which—guessing by the lack of agonizing headaches, and the overwhelming sensory overload—definitely do not exist in your current state. And the current state [Name] is a step closer to self-sabotaging, not sick [Name].

A weary sigh ripples out of your chest, heavy eyes slipping shut before it opens once again and this time, it lands onto the dishes plastered meticulously on the desk with an amber ambience coating it nicely for a pleasant sight. 

Damn Albedo probably figured that out too.

—

“So, how are you feeling?”

“Evidently fine, I suppose,” You deadpanned, “You already know I’m not that sick, anyway! What's the point of asking?”

“Wow, evidently fine, huh,” He said dryly, keen eyes lingering on you for a tad bit too long to the point of discomfort, “So true, [Name]. You're getting more honest and honest day by day, I'm impressed.”

Your thumb dug into your temple, foreseeing the undeniable Old-Friend™ under the sobriquet of “Headache”, “You're so annoying. I don't have a headache, but I'm about to get one. Uh, I feel like—you know those internal numb feelings swirling in your body accompanied by the external feeling of sweat clinging to your body? Like, I feel numb, but clammy, you know what I mean? That's a good inkling for wellness, you know. I think the medicine I drank this morning is really helping.”

Albedo lets out a slightly bemused hum at your nonsensical delineation, legs folded as he leaned with his elbow propped on his knee, “Alright then, but you don't really feel that bad, right? When did you even get sick? Like, when did you feel the telltale signs, at least?"

You absentmindedly fiddled with the long line of thread peeking out of your warm duvet, mind going through an extensive trip from your shenanigans a few days back, “Err.. frankly, I could only remember literally studying and just.. studying. And the few times that I'm not studying are relatively normal? I think I really just got sick when I woke up yesterday.”

“Huh, didn't you spend half of last week with Scaramouche?”

Your eyes narrowed obstrusively, “Yeah, but I obviously didn't get sick around that time.”

He huffed amusedly, “Imagine being so infuriated with your rival that it gets you sick, how romantic.”

“Are you insinuating that I got sick because of that fucking Asshole?”

“Hmm,” He sardonically puts on a show of thinking, “Have you ever heard of the malady, “lovesick?”

A horrible, horrid, abominable grimace twists your features into one of absolute disgust and your hands, which were idle prior, clenched at your duvet at a feeble attempt of staying calm, “How noxious, how fucking noxious. How many times do you guys have to tease me about that fucker being this.. this—stupid fuckin’ hackneyed rivals to lovers trope? It's so stupid, and annoying.”

“It's pretty amusing to see you get riled up,” He remarks offhandedly with a casual shrug, and you greatly regret ever calling him over for conversation the very second you had finished your soup.

“Amusing, my fucking feet. Didn't we have a similar relationship dynamic before you got into our friend group? Why the fuck is ours any different from whatever me and scara is, anyway?”

“Please don't tell me you're insinuating that you've fallen in love with me before. That's really gross.”

“No! It's not that, I swear, it's just—” You hoarsely exclaimed, bubbling frustration and bewilderment clinging onto your sickly voice as your hands raised to clutch at your hair, “I'm confused as to why literally everyone thinks me and scara are going to be a different kind of—like, like—rivalry! or, or.. something! Like, that doesn't even make any fucking sense!”

The chilly air paused for long second, and from your blurry peripherals, the typical stoic countenance that seemed to settle permanently onto your best friend's features loosens into a surprised kind-of expression, and it isn't long right after your observation that he slowly speaks; this time, with a tad bit softer albeit snarky tone, “You do know that Hu tao also teased you about me, right?”

He had a fair point; Hu tao was relentless for a week's time about your profound friendship with Albedo, and had lightly taunted you for a sundry amount of times before realization gradually dawned on her that she literally cannot see him as a potential lover for her beloved best friend because of his mediator role in the friendgroup, albeit his witty and sarcastic disposition clashing with yours. 

“But this is different! I just, I don't know it feels like–it feels so overwhelming, I've had panic attacks before with you, and you were there for me, and, and—I don't know, I’m just so fucking confused, why is this any different from our situation?”

For a few seconds, it remained silent, the words soaking in before he ultimately began once again, “[Name], you can talk to them about feeling uncomfortable with the teasings, you know. We won't make fun of you for it, and it's your boundary, anyway. It would be shitty of us to just disregard your discomfort.”

“I’m not—.. I mean, it's really fine, but it's just—I’m trying to understand why Tighnari, Kokomi and you tease me about him. Hell, even teachers, patrons, and even my own grandmother have thought that we were partners.”

“A lot of people thought of that about us, too,” He provided cordially, teal eyes softly meeting yours under the warm champagne light, and for such a supposed intimate moment as described in the books, it doesn't really elicit a heart rate bordering on cardiac arrest unlike a particular indigo-eyed asshole.

And, god, for fuck’s sake, you don't know what to do with that information, and you don't know if you could even handle the mere implication of it, so you hurriedly bury it deep, deep, deep into the Pandora's Box.

“..Yeah, but this one..” It comes out conspicuously breathless, and you can only hope Albedo thinks of it as just a symptom from your fever, “they're persistent about it. Even as we told them that it's not the case, they're still not fucking convinced, and I'm just so—confused, because even Mr. Alhaitham thinks of it as well. And, that's Mr. I-Don’t-Give-A-Major-Fuck thinking about it, like do you see my point here? They're so insistent about us, that it's just—..is there really something going on, and I'm just oblivious?”

The other huffs, mirth dripping from the sound of it, “I can imagine Scaramouche having a silly crush on you if that helps. Though..”

His eyes sheepishly averted for a split second before meeting yours once again, as if nervous—but why? what would he be nervous for—before he mutters something too quiet, but enough for you to hear, “I'm curious to know what you, on the other hand, would do if he had a crush on you.”

Frankly, by all logistics and realism considered, it's nonsensical. Absurd, if you will. The first point also doesn't make any sense at all, because Scaramouche hates you, right? Yet benevolently, your perfidious mind supplies you of all the things that the Asshole have done that contradicts the counterpoint—from giving you food when you've overworked yourself, hanging out with you, being annoyingly everywhere, and the entirety of yesterday—and suddenly, it doesn't.. really serves as a valid counterpoint anymore.

And—your response to the hypothetically bullshit scenario? Reject him, of course. Spit words of acerbity at how odious it is for him to like you. Ridicule him for even considering the notion of being with you in a romantic sense, and yet—

The idea of just being with Scaramouche, and having to.. do all of those romantic things with him doesn't seem so far-fetched and as malevolent as it seems anymore, even as the swirling bile reaching to your throat was a sign for anything that contradicts such. 

If anything, the hypothetical scenario of losing him hurts even more, and, fuck. 

“I’ll—.. Fuck, I don't even—I don't know, he's a nice company, and—I don't wanna lose him,” The words feels acid, horrid, noxious and it feels so fucking foreign in your typical crass tongue that it's just—wrong, “We've never even established that we're more than rivals, and fuck, he's sarcastic and—and, and.. annoying about it when we put labels to whatever this is, but he's never answered what we are, at all.”

Albedo simply nods, lips pursed in that uncertain line, and eyes softened akin to how an older sibling would be patient to their little sibling, “It's okay to admit that you're scared to lose him, you know. Though, it does sound weird coming from you, but you're sick and vulnerable, so I'm probably getting the most honest answer out of you. Either way, it's okay, [Name]. It's okay. About the labels.. he might be scared too, you know.”

Your head raises in a questioning tilt, “What?”

“Yeah, me and Hu tao gossiped a little like a month ago, and I'm not certain for sure, but Scaramouche took years to even refer to his friends right now as his friends. Do you get it?”

“No… what?”

“Whatever, okay, whatever. Let's move on, I don't have the full story or context of whatever that was, anyway. So, do you like Scaramouche? I won't laugh or tease, I promise.”

Your countenance scrunches in genuine instinct, and your body internally swirls, squirms, jerks in that uncomfortable feeling as to what it has always been reacting to the recurring question asked, “Gods, no. I just don't wanna lose him, that's it.”

His shoulders sagged in resignation, “I don't even know what I expected.”

“It doesn't even make sense for me to like him! What the fuck are you on!?”

“Yeah, yeah, you don't like him. It doesn't have to completely make sense right now, [Name]. It can be a jumbled mess of a puzzle, and it might not make sense now, but it will make sense sooner or later,” Eyes pointedly averting from your disgusted scowl, he shrugs anyway, “Seriously, I don't even know Scaramouche, but you seem.. free? Around him, so. I'm rooting for you guys when you end up together.”

“If, not when. We're never ending up together.”

His lips curled in mischief, “The notion still exists.”

“Ugh,” You groaned, head thumping against the headboard before you vexedly met eyes with him again, “God, I can't believe I crashed out about Scaramouche, like god. It felt like you were giving me a pep talk.”

“I was.”

“No, you weren't.”

“I was.”

“You weren't.”

“Was.”

“Weren't.”

“Was—okay, whatever, you're okay now though, right?”

“Yeah, can you stop comparing my relationship with Scaramouche to any couple? Like, oh my god, please die. I hated considering the idea of me being willingly in love with—with.. Sca—the Asshole.”

“Liar,” he grins, the first one of the day.

And—fuck, you thumbed at the duvet. 

You really are a liar.

───────────────────⋆⋅☆⋅⋆───────────────────

|| previous episode - next episode. ||

───〃★tunes of your heartbeat masterlist

synopsis: in which your fate somehow gets entangled into a messy jumble between punk music in cozy cafés, intense rivalry, cherished yakults, parallelograms and quantum physics, competitions in contests and rainy days. or in other words; the universe seems to fucking hate your guts for whatever reason and decided to curse your love life with your awful crass emo twink-a-fuck rival. the question is; did the curse work?

taglist (50/50): @toekissers , @raineyun @localscarasimp , @potteraep , @shutingstar , @feiherp , @scaraenthusiast1 @dazqa , @wraithisd3adinside , @x-hihihi-x , @court-jester-stuff , @automaticpatroltragedy , @lalalaloveallmydays , @trulyylee , @jayzioxx , @featuredtofu @kazemiya @help-whatdoimakemyusername , @skyoverkill1 @phoenix-eclipses , @anqelkoz , @miyakomari @saechiro @franaby , @swivi , @vixialuvs , @heusalettle @kunikissr @yomishen @mywillt0live , @baldrapunzel @jiminscarmex @sushitushi, @liuaneee , @shynsgore , @mechanicalbeat1 , @marivaudages , @okukura , @azzumei @lucid1tty @iloveescara @usagiarchive @kyouzki @theunhingedmf @kangyeonie @mi2ukiss @bubblebellaz @eternallykira-143 @lumiicch

• featured song: i want to know what love is by foreigner

notes - "i wanna know what love is, i want you to show me" and its [name] realizing that scaramouche can, indeed, fall within the category of love because there is a close line between love and hate after all

authors' notes - changinf my writing style a little LMAO a little feedback wouldn't hurt:3 anyway how we feeling after the one month hiatus

(ask to be added or removed)

[raytoebiter]

[yurunivo]

Synopsis: you know that your roommate isn't human, you just can't prove it yet...

Tags: fluff, crack, fast paced(?), implied tsundere!wanderer, implied fem!reader but no use of she/her pronouns, no use of y/n, English is not my first language, hastily beta-read by myself, lots of personal headcannons around wanderer's non-human features, reader pov, around 5k words

You've been incredibly worried about your roommate as of late.

You knew that it was completely unreasonable to worry about a capable adult, especially someone like Hat Guy who's known to be as tough as a rock, mentally and physically. No one gets through his barriers with ease- a known fact about him. Yet, as his roommate, who has been living with him for the past few months, you find it in your rights to fuss and worry about him as much as you wished, so you cared not about anything you were "supposed" to do.

The details were, small, in a sense. Subtle, negligible, stuff that you shouldn't notice as a sane person doing sane people things and not observing people like a hawk. Just, as a student of Amurta, you found it that you liked observing anyone's anatomy, regardless of their shape, size or form, and Hat Guy was no exception. It wasn't as if he wasn't pretty to look at, in fact, his face itself brought many a people to fawn over him, but that wasn't really the point.

Point was, after observing your dear roommate for so long, you found so many... Uncanny detailing on his character. As if he was posing within humanity as a skilled imposter. You didn't exactly want him to know that you knew about whatever was going on, mainly because you didn't at all. You considered yourself amateur in these regards, especially since Hat Guy was such an enigma. More importantly, he was like a cat, and you didn't want to be caught dangling your string for too long.

So here was your plan.

Alongside the usual papers and quills you bought for the Akademiya, that day, you decided to be a bit irresponsible with your money and buy a pricey notebook, imported from Fontaine. Not your greatest purchase, you knew, but you figured that it had a purpose, far greater than that it seemed...

"(Name), would you stop staring at me and finish your meal?"

You blinked. Right, you forgot that you were having dinner with him and were lost in your thoughts. He looked particularly annoyed, poking at his food with chopsticks (which you had no idea where he got), and his palm dragged over his forehead, covering his face and cheeks. And his cheeks, in question were a bright teal like the color of the Leylines. What the fuck.

"Sorry, just zoned out for a second."

"Tch."

Right, your little notebook that you bought would be dedicated to that pretty little roommate of yours, until you can muster the courage to confront him about his "non humanoid features". Either that, or he was actually ill and you were just an ass. Either way, you would collect features from him like a nasty detective, and hope he was none the wiser until whenever you yourself were ready.

Until then, you could start with your first entry you supposed.

...

Entry 1/0?

He doesn't like to eat all that much. Which, could just be me being paranoid, but considering that I've heard that he's a good fighter and that he doesn't eat that much food is really concerning. I'll ask him out for meals more often until I get more evidence.

Hat Guy stared at you for a moment, and then sighed with absolute exasperation, and you could only laugh awkwardly, averting your eyes from him.

"You want me to escort you to a friend's house?"

"Err, yes? Listen, I have a really important project I need to discuss with them-"

"It's practically midnight, what would be more important than that of your sleep?"

"... My grades?"

Hat Guy pinched the bridge of his nose, as if trying his absolute best to police his expression to one of neutrality. You couldn't exactly blame him either, if a crazy roommate of yours were to ask you to escort them to somewhere decently far away in the middle of the night of all places, you'd crash out harder than your roommate. He had the patience of a saint with you, and you weren't sure if that were to be considered as a good thing or bad thing.

"I mean- you have a vision, you seem strong, and I'm scared to go out at night, alone?" Attempting your best to reason with him, but your negotiation skills weren't exactly as subpar as you'd hoped.

"You're just listing off things you know about me." He sighed, and you huffed.

"Good characteristics! You're blessed by a god with strength and a vision, I think I have the right to list those things."

"Whatever you say (Name)." He rolled his eyes, and irritation flared up your spine. Couldn't even accept your meager request now could he? How annoying.

"Look, if you're not willing to escort me, I'll just ask another friend of mine-"

"No I'll go."

You raised an brow immediately. That's all it took? Really? All your attempts at swaying him to come accompany you were come undone as soon as you mentioned another person. How prideful, you muttered, before grabbing your shoes and tying them, Hat Guy right behind you. His gaze pierced your back, and you found yourself squirming in the slightest. Seriously, his gaze was so intense. It's like he didn't blink at all.

"Shall we go then?"

"Must you be so impatient?" You sighed, tying your last lace before promptly standing up, your bag on shoulder and hands in your pockets.

The walk was eerily quiet, especially for a bustling city like Sumeru. However, you digress, there was no reason for a place to be active and all all day every day for no reason at all. Sumeru wasn't that kind of place, and the closest you could think to that kind of Elysium was Mondstadt, you would think, with its overt motifs of freedom and wine.

Hat Guy was usually a fast walker, however, he was kind enough to slow down to your pace, which was odd. Most times he would sneer at anyone who asked him to stop so that they could catch up, but he was awfully lenient with you, which was... Interesting. You're not sure if you're supposed to write that down in your journal or not. In the midst of all that walking however, the inherent awkwardness of the quiet was enough to string your nerves on a merry loop until all you could do was avert your eyes to and away from him every now and then.

You really needed a conversation topic. Otherwise, you're pretty sure that you'd spontaneously combust.

"Soo Hat Gu-"

"Don't call me that."

You stared, pertrubed. What does he even mean by that?! Registering in the Sumeru Akademiya by the name Hat Guy, not bothering to correct anyone either, and he wants to go around with a prissy attitude over you calling him Hat Guy. His mood swings were far too unpredictable for you to catch up over him, and you were honestly going to wring his neck (figuratively) if he were to speak in another riddle.

"And why is that?" You grumbled, now that you were the one forcing to keep your facial contortions to a minimum.

"I prefer you call me Wanderer."

... Okay, not what you expected.

"And wh-"

"It sounds strange when you say it. We're not exactly strangers now are we? No reason to keep calling me that ridiculous nickname."

"Ohoh but the Traveler calls you Hat Guy just fine," you stared directly into his eyes, and he, like an asshole, decided to roll them 360 right in front of you, as if you were an inconvenience. What an asshole!

"Consider this an honour then," he smiled, no, smirked for a bit, before lightly shoving you so that he could use his hat to cover his face like he always does. You huffed, how rude was that? Though, you were never one to listen to him that easily, as despite the large hat preventing you from overcoming the gap, your hand, deft and curious, grabbed a hold of his wrist, and you could only grin to his look of annoyance.

"What?"

"Mmm, it's the middle of the night and I'm so scared!" You batted your lashes, exaggerating your expression to one that was embarrassing worthy. "You're seriously gonna push off a scared, unassuming person like me?" Your voice etched to a whine, an annoying one, and you grinned in absolute pleasure when Wanderer looked at you with disgust.

"Whatever," he huffed, yet didn't pull away from your touch. The fingers on your hand wrapped around the juncture of his wrist, and-

You almost fumbled with your voice again. His wrist was a doll joint? Not the thing you expected to find, but then again it could have been a prosthetic. But also, he seemed to be able to move about his limb with not so much as a struggle one would usually see with a prosthetic. Granted, he could've had it for a long time but...

"We're here."

You blinked, staring up at the building in front of you before stepping away from him. You swore you felt him stiffen, but couldn't exactly tell what made him do so. Finally, turning around to face him, you felt his blank gaze on you, staring with an unreadable poker face that had you reeling.

"Don't wait for me, I'll probably stay the night."

"I'll make breakfast when you come back."

"Aww so you do care about me!"

"Tch," and he began walk off into the distance, holding the brim of his hat closer to his face.

Entry 2

His joints are similar to those Inazuman puppets that I saw once. Possible prosthetic? But there would've been a clear marking on where it was. Certainly though, it does match with the doll like face he puts upon sometimes, when he gets scarily blank...

Wanderer's grip on your waist tightened, and you could only stick your tongue out at him, holding your notes with the pads of your fingers brushing against the pages.

"Tell me why I agreed on helping you document the wildlife..."

"Because you love me," you hummed, almost breaking out in a panic when he nearly dropped you. This man!

Eventually, the two of you reached an acceptable altitude and ended up on the thick branches of a giant tree. The spores and mushrooms growing on the wood looked fascinating, and who were you to refuse sketching them a little? Wanderer, irritable as he was, only sighed and leaned against the trunk.

"Couldn't have asked anyone else..." He scoffed, though with your PHD in Hat Guy- language, you could tell that there was no real bite to his words.

"Oh nooo, I actually couldn't. Who else could carry me around place to place while flying?" You quipped back, sarcasm evident in your tone. He raised a brow, but you were already back to sketching the mushrooms to pay attention to him any longer. Seriously, with how convenient it was you might just make him carry you around all the time, with adequate compensation with your mora of course. Or you could just haggle him for his services.

"What assignment is your documentation even based on anyway?"

Now that piqued your interest. Hat Guy- sorry, Wanderer, asking about your studies? Well, who were you to deny him the pleasure that was to be on the receiving end of your ramblings.

"We're supposed to just use the mushrooms and find out their genetic composition and how and where they can be used alchemically, but I'm jotting down the appearances too since that might be a correlation to how useful they will be in creating potions. In any case-"

You talked on and on, zoning out sometimes and cursing under your breath when your pencil was a bit out of place. Wanderer had the decency to nod along methodically when you mentioned the important points. He looked bored, if you had to be completely honest with yourself, but every once in a while you caught a small grin on his face. Ugh, he was definitely going to use your rambling against you someday with that cheeky look on his face, but hey, at least someone was listening to you.

You shifted your posture, making sure to keep your appropriate distance from the fungi as you adjusted your sketchbook in your hands. Frankly enough, your drawings were already done, and you were just about to put your stuff back into your bag-

Before you turned around and realized that it was gone, and was actively falling off the branch.

Shit! That had contained some expensive vials! And syringes! And randomized equipment that the blood rushing to your ears wasn't helping you make out.

A long, irritated (though definitely not as strong) sigh dragged on before Wanderer grabbed his hat and activated his vision.

"Stay here," he grumbled, before flying off to your stuff that you'd die a million times for.

Oh what a glorious sight it was, seeing him fly so gracefully with his vision. You mourned not having any, but what you were mourning more was the fact that you weren't the one flying over. You'd be the one to know how delicate it was and how to decidedly handle it, and while you definitely trusted Wanderer with your life, you didn't exactly look forward to seeing broken glass amongst your other belongings. At least he was kind enough to pick up your bag, in the Akademiya budgeting is more important than ever (an irony, if you had to take a look at your irresponsible purchases, but then again who were you to deny the notebook?).

Your gaze remained locked onto him in spite of the anxiety pooling in your gut, and you practically winced out loud (spoiler, you did yelp in absolute panic) when a branch snagged against his forearm and punctured it.

You prayed to every god you knew that you still carried a first aid kit.

Strangely enough, your eyes must've been playing tricks on you because you did not see any of the usual crimson that one would usually get from an injury of this level. Then again, you did think about him having a prosthetic...

In less than a minute, he came back up to you, holding your bag incredulously and applying pressure on his wound.

"Holy shit- let me see that, I probably have a bandage or two somewhere..." You all but grabbed your bag, careful to not fall down the tree yourself, and were about to drag his arm too before he quickly pulled away with a shocking stiffness.

"No, just-" he sucked in a breath, and you had to keep the exclaim of surprise to yourself when you saw his injury covered by his palm and digits.

There was not red flowing down his limb, but a teal blue liquid similar to that of the branches of the Leylines, certainly matching his weird coloring on his cheeks earlier.

Why the fuck was his arm embedded with Irminsul??

"Just hand me something, I can handle it myself."

Right, right. You fumbled with the zipper and carelessly tossed him a linen bandage roll. You'd have to deal with the shocking revelations later. For now, you just checked your supplies.

Syringes? No issues.

Vials? Surprisingly nothing broken.

Your ink bottles? You grimaced when some of it had leaked into your bag, but the stain wasn't visible from the outside so that was good enough for you.

By the time you glanced back at Wanderer, he was already holding his hand back out for you, arm covered in a bandage and clearly waiting for you to hop on so you could fly away. You shoved in your other supplies, quickly taking a sample of the mushroom before taking the liberty to climb into his back. In no way were you allowing him to carry you in his arms while he was injured. He only sighed before securing you and flying away.

Well, at least a new diary entry for you.

Entry 3

Okay, so it's either my prosthetic theory or he's just a freak who has Irminsul blood for some reason. And in any case, why would he even have the Leylines as a source of energy for his prosthetic?? He's either rich or he's a freak of nature. Maybe he's both and I'm just the dumb one

The distinct hum and thrum of the Sumeru bazaar rolled off of your ears as you glared at the two pieces of fabric in your hands, both glinting beautifully in the sunlight with their golden embroidery and stitches. The hot weather was making you ansty, and the very annoyed Wanderer right beside you was even more so.

"Just choose an outfit, it literally cannot be that hard."

"Just say you're an uncultured buffoon if you say "it literally cannot be that hard". It is that difficult!"

He grumbled under his breath, and you would keep glaring if it weren't for the fact that even the stall owner was far more irritated than usual and wanted you gone just as you wanted yourself gone.

Your friend's wedding was coming up though, and you were not going to disappoint with a lackluster choice.

"I can't wear red, that's for the bride. Fatima said she was wearing green, and then Aditiya said she was wearing pink..."

"Why do you even bother with what others are wearing?" He pinched the bridge of his nose, and you sighed with such disturbance that at least his whining stopped. You aren't sure if you can handle anything more.

"For the good pictures duh." You huffed, staring down at the kameez. Too many colors for you. Too many to decide.

"Just pick teal," he muttered back, and you raised a brow.

"What? I am your plus one, after all. I have enough teal in my closet for us to be matching."

That's...

Huh.

"Looks like you're right for something after all Wanderer," you picked up a teal one, and you swore that the stall owner hadn't been happier when your decision making was finally coming to a close.

"I'm always right."

"Whatever you say my dear," you rolled your eyes when prompted, and grabbed the bag as soon as you could before dragging him along with you just for shade. The sun was boiling you alive and you would be a mess of human soup on the pavement if you didn't cool off like right now. Wanderer luckily didn't complain either. He was either sick of the sun like you were, or the "obnoxious amount of people" as he would call it.

Finally, finding a wooden seat underneath a canopy of leaves, you dragged him to sit down, murmuring about the pain in your ankle. He offered to massage it (which was weirdly nice of him), but you declined. You were just going to. Sit. And not think for a while. Your forehead was hot and you were sweaty and-

You glanced up at him, sitting right beside you and fiddling with the handles of the bags. He seemed relaxed, despite the sun glaring down at all of you, and your jaw nearly dropped when you realized that not a single speck of his clothes were dotted with sweat, or anything of the liquidy sort. Worst of all, when you stared at his eyes, indigo and pretty and light as they were, his pupils didn't even dilate or change. Human pupils were supposed to be smaller to not absorb as much light when they were already in an area with ample illumination, and his pupils were the same as they were when the two of you had been in the house, making sure to block any outside view with curtains.

Theory number two, freak if nature or another prosthetic eyeball that was far too advanced for that of Teyvat.

Unfortunately for you, he seemed to have noticed your staring, and quirked a subsequent brow.

"What?"

"I uhm," shit, you were not going to talk about his definitely non human qualities out in the open. "I'm thirsty."

There! Not even a lie at least, your throat was parched, and judging by the raspy tone of your voice he likely believed you too. He sighed before standing up, placing the bags in your lap.

"I'll go get you a drink, wait here."

And that was that. He was gone, off to another sweltering part of the bazaar. You were left to your thoughts, mumbling to yourself. And you realized that you would have another diary entry to write in.

Entry 4

Somehow doesn't sweat?? I'd kill for that actually, not being able to smell like shit sounds amazing. And his pupils don't dilate in the light, meaning they don't dilate in the dark, meaning that I have no idea how to continue on with this. Whoever crafted him must've been good though, if I weren't actively looking for him I probably wouldn't have noticed, like at all. Maybe being a creep does help sometimes.

By now you've gotten uncannily good at noticing every non human aspect of him.

Like when the two of your were cooking together his fingers didn't leave prints on the dough, or how the more you realize it the more it seems like he never blinks, or how whenever you touched his hair very faint bits of purple dye stained your palm, which if you hadn't been looking for you wouldn't notice. You felt stupid for not noticing for this long.

Also how his hair never grows, nor does his nails. His skin is relatively similar to human one, but if you paid enough attention it was slightly wood like and felt more like rubber than actual, human skin made with collagen and your typical cells.

You weren't sure if that was you being a creep, or him being obvious.

Your entries have increased substantially, and so the worn pages and leather covering became more apparent with your fingerprints. You've grown to be sneakier when it comes to hiding your journal away from your roommate, especially after his scrutinizing and oddly curious gaze on your notes. It was only a matter of time until he found out what was in all of that. You'd know, you'd obviously know. For someone who's trying to appear closed off and standoffish, he's relatively horrible at remaining to do so against his dear roommate. You could feel the burn of his stare whenever you hid your notebook from him.

So, you'd very much like to do the whole confrontation about him not being a human at your own languid pace without the said object of confrontation ruining your plans.

Of course, that's when things went to absolute shit.

...

"And what might this be?"

There was Wanderer, holding your notebook, bare and open right in front of you, and even you knew by then that any attempt to keep yourself to neutrality was fairly futile. Your shoulders slumped, cheeks flushing with embarrassment at being caught onto so easily.

"You know what..."

"I do," he hummed, flipping through another page, causing you to squirm in your place firmly planted by your feet. "Just want to hear what you'd say about it."

"Are you mad?"

"Hey, I'm the one asking questions right now. You'd do good in learning something called "taking turns in a conversation"," he scoffed, sarcasm dripping down his tone. Surprisingly enough, he didn't sound particularly hostile, just curious.

"I mean-" you began, losing all of your words in a span of two seconds no less. "This is- uhm.."

"Go on now," he kept flipping through the pages and you squirmed harder. It was three in the morning, he shook you awake when you had neither coffee nor tea in your system like you usually did, but as soon as he spoke of the notebook you shot up so fast that you gave yourself a headache. Now, your apparent sleep deprivation was speaking to you, and hallucinations were probably dotting across your vision. You still kept rubbing your eyes at the itchy feeling of an eyelash in your cornea, and you vaguely felt as if confrontations weren't meant to be done as early as the ass crack of dawn.

"I was uh-" come on (Name), you could do it, probably, "worried about you?" You settled on instead. The way his gaze immediately locked onto you in absolute confusion would've been funny if it weren't for the fact that you were still trying to convince yourself that he was a really convincing hallucination in front of you.

"Look, you don't eat much, blink much, heck even breathe much. When you blush, your skin is fucking blue-" he sucked in a breath at that, a long, long breath. "-and you're generally just a weirdo. You can't blame me for being worried!"

"And you couldn't have just asked?"

Right, now your stalkerish tendencies were being put into trial, how great. "Would you have answered?"

"Fair enough."

"And besides- you don't even look like you mind me being creepy! Don't tell me you're into it just because it includes me looking out for you like a normal, concerned human being."

The silence was absolutely palpable, and you wanted nothing more than to just slap yourself and curl into the corner of the room, morphing with the wall and talking to your dear friend hallucinations.

"Don't tell me-"

"Just continue on!" His face was that distinct, desaturated teal/blue again, which, in your PHD for the body language of Wanderer (now updated), meant that he was blushing. Oh you were so going to bring this up to him later. But that also meant fighting through the three am sleepiness and attempting to maintain a semblance of a civil conversation instead of you gaping around for words.

"So, as a concerned roommate would do, I began investigating-"

"Stalking, you mean."

"Is it really stalking if it's just stuff I noticed when we were out together?"

He huffed. "Continue."

"And that's lead to this whole fiasco or whatever. The whole "I'm not human" thing was, no wait, is? Quite obvious already, so all I'm asking is what the actual fuck you actually are, my guesses are doll, puppet or some weird freaky Mecha from Fontaine. Or Khanriah, that works too."

"Take a guess."

"Ooo never thought that dear old Wanderer would be fun enough to indulge in a guessing game." Right, sleep deprivation was definitely affecting you by a mile. "I'm guessing puppet."

"You would guess correct."

"Huh, guess I'm a genius even at half-lucid state."

He rolled his eyes. At least, you think he did. "Don't flatter yourself that much now (Name)."

"Now for my question, since you practically ignored it in favor of yours," you attempted to make a sound similar to a scoff but your vocal cords failed you enough for even you to not know what you were on about. "Are you mad for what you'd call "stalking"?"

He hummed for a bit, finally placing the notebook down. You took the moment to really look at him, his unusually messed up hair, pursed lips, desaturated and yet colored cheeks. It was an odd state for someone as cool headed as Wanderer, but maybe it wasn't so bad to look at; at least he seemed more human in a way, even if he wasn't."

"Surprisingly enough, no."

Alarm bells rang in your head, "what do you mean no?"

"Imagine if I was the one taking notes on you about every single aspect that made you different than others, how would you feel?"

"I- huh... I guess confused? Flattered? I mean if they care enough to pay attention to me that's actually quite invigorating but I'm not sure if I'm supposed to be creeped out or not since it technically counts as being creepy..."

"Pay attention to your own words now."

And- oh.

"Question is, are you confused or are you flattered?" You teased. At least, you think you did.

Now, it seems like he stopped to think, really think about your words. Because really, he should have known himself, and the fact that he didn't was extremely concerning to know of.

But with the amount of time it was taking it was getting ridiculous.

"How about this-" you kept your voice tight, carefully neutral, to make sure you were not giving out your true intentions. "We go out on an outing," already you could feel his skeptical gaze on you, "and you'd tell me all about whether or not I need to back the fuck off or just do what I usually do in these situations and not change myself whatsoever. Clarification is extremely important you know."

A beat.

Then, a long, drawn out exhale pierced your ears, shaky as it was and all. His eyes finally met yours, and you swore, that even with his unmoving pupils he was intending to pierce into your soul.

"Are you asking me out on a date?"

Well, busted.

"Think of all the bragging rights I could get if rumor spread that I went out on a date with the Hat Guy," you snickered, attempting to lighten the mood.

"Just for the bragging rights?"

"Hmm, now that I think about it I'm not sure if being hit by books by your hoards of fangirls would be worth the date..."

His dumbfounded expression was always a sight for sore eyes, if only to laugh your ass off for. Wiping a tear from the eyelids, you crossed your arms across your chest, waiting indefinitely for his answer, which he likely forgot about in favor of staring at you like you belonged at an insane asylum.

"So is that a yes or no?"

He stayed awfully quiet, lost in thought for a moment. The facade he wore like a wall practically crumbled, and now you could truly admire the sight of blaring moonlight illuminating his cheeks, brow and hair. He'd make for an awfully pretty portrait, you'd have to find a chance to sketch him sometime.

And, your knowledge on Hat Guy-pedia remained stronger than ever, because you always knew what silence meant in his language.

"Meet me is Puspa cafe tomorrow evening, wear something nice if you want," you languidly stretched, yawning in the meanwhile, and your roommate only regained his sarcasm and scoffed, turning you away and telling you to catch up on sleep.

This was the strangest confrontation in your life, not necessarily a bad one however. At least you got a date out of it.

....

I reached the picture limit for this 😭 anygays tagging my wanderer lover moots @karmamira @sleepylilacx @kithewanderingme

[diz-eaze]

cause and effect. (yandere! phainon x female reader)

; the guy she told you not to worry about: the fic, aka homewreckernon, yandere, college au, slight reader x npc, character pov for once, proofread to the best of my spotting ability, exploitation of trust, nonconsensual kissing, some cheating (phai x (y/n), influence of alcohol, .

; Having been in love with you since freshman year but unable to act upon his feelings due to your boyfriend, Phainon finds the opportunity to dismantle your relationship after paying you a visit while you slept. He's simply correcting the grievous mistake Mnestia made.

“Hey there, lovebirds!” March greets from a distance. 

Phainon’s ideal reality unravels like a scroll painting from ancient Planarcadia; a blush would nicely settle on his cheeks before turning around to blow raspberries at the pink-haired woman. He’d pull you closer to him in a protective stance before he jokingly complains about the two of you getting bullied by your joint group of friends. 

All in good fun; he loves the ‘loverboy’ reputation he has. Your hand would reach out to lovingly caress his face, laughing at his antics, and the atmosphere would be ruined by another one of your friends - Dan Heng or Mydei – who’d dryly comment something about keeping your hands off each other. Love is the key to eternal happiness, a moment this simple is paradise to Phainon. He needs nothing more. 

When Caelus accidentally jostles against him, Phainon is forced to roll the scroll shut and come back down to his actual reality. He’s not the one embracing you in his arms while he preens under the endearing term of ‘lovebirds’. He’s not the one you call your boyfriend, nor the one you share your personal space with.

Rather, Phainon is your good friend; he takes on his role to chuckle and say, “Easy on the PDA now, you two.”

Your boyfriend, certainly not Phainon, laughs in embarrassment. He withdraws his arm from your shoulder to play with the anniversary necklace hanging off your neck. He shuffles closer to your side, always so shy when he’s reminded of the fact that he’s dating you, you, out of eight billion people. A lucky bastard who can’t seem to grasp miracles even when he’s hit in the head with one, Phainon sourly thinks.

Staring at him any longer will make him retch, so Phainon faces you instead and points at the drink you’re holding. All teasing, he remarks, “The party started an hour ago and you’re already running to get drunk, I see. I see!”

You bristle, now cradling the drink close to your chest - Phainon wishes he were it, “Oh, zip it. Weren’t you whining in my texts about unfinished homework earlier today? What happened to that?”

Caelus chimes in in his stead, “Don’t remind me of uni work at a party, (Y/N)...”

You roll your eyes, “Blame him!”

Phainon sticks his tongue out at you. A lighthearted scowl to take residence on your face while you flip him off. 

You’re so cute like this – the heavy weight on his heart begins to ease up, savoring the current time he has with you. If he squints enough, he can pretend you’re not seated next to a parasite who gets to call himself your boyfriend. 

It’s a moment cut too short, unfortunately. Not even a minute later, with the speakers blaring in the background, your boyfriend leans over to whisper into your ear, completely pulling you away from Phainon (and Caelus). A conversation limited to the lovebirds begins while your other friends settle into their own conversations and cliques, voices occasionally rising above the pop music circling throughout the house. 

Phainon is still stuck on you. March taps his shoulder, but he can never tear his eyes away. 

Wistfully, he wonders (he always does) what it’d feel like to be in his position.

Two hours in, a few friends have already excused themselves from the party hosted by March and Caelus. 

Aglaea said she had an internship tomorrow, Hyacine and Anaxa had lab reports due, Sunday and his sister, Robin, must prepare for their theater troupe, Castorice needs to take care of her sister, and now… 

“Going home?” Phainon asks when Mydei strides up to his spot on the living room couch. His friend nods, eyeing his lone beer sitting on the coffee table. 

“I have a morning shift,” He quirks a brow, “You aren’t? You have an exam tomorrow.”

Phainon shakes his head, discreetly jabbing a thumb in your direction. “(Y/N)’s still here, I can’t leave her.”

He needs to keep watch of you since your jackass of a boyfriend is getting shitfaced drunk at record speed. The rotten, vile man that he is. If Phainon were your boyfriend, he’d be the one staying sober so he can keep watch of any potential creeps who wants to catch you off guard. But not everyone has your best interests in mind; he knows this well enough.

Mydei can only sigh, as if to tell him, ‘you’re hopeless’. Frankly, he doesn’t need an outside perspective to acknowledge the blatant truth: Phainon’s world has and will always revolve around you. His close friends know this as they’ve been subjected to the horrible depressive period in Phainon’s life after he found out you’re taken. They’ve seen him bounce back good as new in the aftermath, too.

Still, Mydei relents, knowing that Phainon’s reasoning is quite logical. Patting his shoulder, he murmurs, “Well, keep her safe.” 

It’s a needless order; Mydei does not need to state the obvious. 

Waving goodbye, the blond man exits the living room shortly after. 

No longer occupied, Phainon picks up his beer can and resumes watching you from his place on the couch. You’re stuck in an IPC monopoly game with a few acquaintances while your boyfriend drunkenly babbles stupid, incomprehensible shit right next to you. It flares up irritation in Phainon’s chest - gives him such a profound feeling of disgust that he wills it down, if only to ensure that the hatred isn’t obvious on his face.

You’re clearly inebriated, tipping from one side over to the other – movements sluggish and frequently getting your property cards all mixed up. It makes him wonder how accurate the entire game has been if your group of players is in similar states as you. 

Taking a sip of his beer, he continues to watch, no different from a loyal guard dog. 

A defeat and alcohol-imbued ramblings over who really ‘won’ later, you’re unsteadily rising to your feet with your boyfriend following after. You mumble something to him before moving forward, or at least, trying to without stumbling over your own feet. Deeming it his chance to step in and help, Phainon sets his empty beer can down before coming to you. 

Kindly pushing through dancing bodies, he smiles in the face of your (intoxicated) suffering and offers, “Let me help you with that, (Y/N).”

Completely and purposely disregarding your boyfriend lagging a few steps behind, he hoists your arm over his shoulder and nicely settles you by his side. His heart thundering, Phainon gently assists you in slow, measured steps before sitting you down on the living room couch. You grunt upon settling, mindlessly clinging to his T-shirt that you refuse to part from. He almost coos out loud – you’re too cute for his poor, yearning heart. Too adorable. 

He doesn’t want to part from you either. Phainon leans in, the imagination of being your boyfriend becoming more tangible as he asks in a hushed tone, “How are you going to go back to your dorm in this state, you dummy?”

You grumble something he can’t decipher. He sighs. You need him, you really do. Phainon can be stripped of all knowledge, and this singular thought would still be glaringly obvious to him. How can you possibly function in this world without him? You can take your actual boyfriend out of the equation, and it’ll collapse nothing; everything will stay as it is without him around. But if you take out Phainon… ah, the thought tastes too sour on his tongue. It feels indigestible, like food that’s gone bad and begun growing mold. 

When the other side of the couch dips to accommodate your equally drunk boyfriend sitting, an idea sparks to life, and he makes up his mind then. 

Rising above the speaker’s volume, he asks, “How about staying here for the night?”

Your boyfriend tilts his head in confusion - almost in slow motion, “Wha…?”

Phainon flashes him a fictitious grin, all buddy-buddy. “Hey, don’t worry. I’ll go ask March about it. I’ll even stay here too!”

Yawning, you make a noise of agreement before flopping down on the armrest. Phainon hurriedly adjusts your position into a more comfortable one, secretly savoring the feeling of your skin beneath his fingers. Once he’s also ensured that your boyfriend will fall over the side opposite to you, Phainon maneuvers through the slowly dispersing crowd to negotiate with either of the hosts. 

Who he finds isn’t the ‘all too agreeable’ March or the ‘laidback’ Caelus. It’s the ‘easy to get suspicious’ Dan Heng, who’s very much sober and reading a book in the middle of a party. Phainon hopes their friendship card will be enough to convince him.

“Hey, friend,” Phainon smiles, angelic with a hint of halo forming from the room light. “Got a moment?”

“I suppose so,” Dan Heng reluctantly replies, brows already raised as if he’s waiting for something that’ll ruin his night. “What do you need?”

Phainon leans his body on the door frame, “Those two are too drunk right now, so-! there’re a few guest rooms around here, right? Can we sleep here instead?”

Dan Heng audibly breathes a sigh of relief, deflating like a popped balloon, “I thought… Yes, they can sleep here for tonight,” At Phainon’s expectant face, he adds, “You included.”

Phainon grins and walks over to the table. He reaches his hand out, “Thank you, friend. And the room keys?”

Dan Heng digs into his pockets and fishes out two keys, the jagged edges of the metal softly dyed in a world of flashing purple, red, and green lights. The pair lightly jingles when he makes the move to pass it onto Phainon’s awaiting palm - when he withdraws, however, Dan Heng can’t help but be miffed. 

“What’s wrong?”

“Why’re there only two keys…?”

“Because (Y/N) and her boyfriend can just share a room?” Dan Heng answers, somewhat surprised that he needs to state the obvious, “Other drunkards will have to stay in the other guest rooms, too.”

Phainon’s amicable attitude drops below freezing temperature in the next second. His arm unconsciously flexes, itching to rip your boyfriend apart if he even dares to be in the same bedroom as you, “Hey… Stop messing around.”

 “Does it look like I am?” Dan Heng dryly replies, “If you want them to sleep in different rooms, then go home, Phainon. This house is not a boarding school.”

It’s a few moments later that Phainon makes his decision. He blinks, his smile settles back on his face, and then–

“...I… I can just sleep on the couch.” Once more, his hand extends out, “Sorry, can you give the keys back to me?”

Phainon’s ears feel the sudden, glaring difference of having full-speakers on blast playing the loudest pop songs the general public has ever known before it suddenly quiets down into tipsy, drunk, intoxicated individuals saying their farewells, and then, as everyone is lulled to sleep  -  a blanket of utter silence. 

But even in quietude, his ears ring, remembering the soundwaves that went on from evening to night - his eyes feel the phantom imprints of vivid, strobe lights on his eyelids. Tossing and turning around here on the living room couch, Phainon concludes that he’s in no state to fall asleep. Not when you’re just a floor above him, sleeping peacefully with that parasite taking residence in the room right next to yours. The thought alone makes his heart beat faster. 

Lying on his back, he turns his head to the side so he can look at the inconspicuous pair of keys lying on the coffee table. Reaching for his phone, located somewhere beneath the covers, the rectangular device with its blinding light displays the time to him: 

2:55 AM. 

Sitting up, Phainon stretches his body before reaching across the coffee table to nab the keys.

He observes it on his palm, thinking now is the best time to visit you. 

Phainon is admittedly a tad bit too eager when he uses the key to unlock your guest room. In a house of stillness, the door shuts behind him in creaking groans, a sound that rouses you, causing you to shuffle around beneath the covers. He stills at the sight, grabbing onto the door handle in preparation. But when you sink back into the mattress, he breathes a sigh of relief and lets go. Everything is okay, nothing is at risk. 

It’ll be hard to wake you up after your intoxicated state, he reminds himself. 

He looks around and notes that the guest room is dimly lit; moonlight seeps through the window, nearly dyeing everything in his vision a serene blue. The only exception is the night lamp on the bedside table, glowing a soft hue of orange –  brushing your face in a soft gradient between tangerines and blueberries. His heart painfully squeezes in his chest, a love so intense it hurts him. 

You look so unguarded, peaceful. Wrapped in a vulnerability that you’d never allow him (and your friends) to see otherwise. Phainon bites his lip, hastily walking around the dim room to find his way to you. He loves you. He loves you-

Crack. Ah, he accidentally stepped on something. 

Phainon lifts his foot, squinting to see a little clearer: lying on the ground is the anniversary necklace you wore to the party earlier. He remembers it still hung on your neck, even teasingly dipping into the valley of your breasts, when he settled you into this room hours ago. He chuckles to himself, did you drunkenly remove it before going to sleep? It’d explain the reckless positioning. 

The metal stringing it together is all shattered from the force he exerted. Unfortunately, the main accessory, a locket containing a photobooth picture of you with your boyfriend, stays unharmed. It’s even flipped open, as if to mock Phainon from where he stood - just mere inches away from your unconscious body. He clicks his tongue and picks up the broken necklace. 

Would you be mad if you lost this? 

He pockets it, deeming the locket to be an item that’ll further drive you away from him. Ever since you got that necklace from your boyfriend, you have stopped wearing the friendship bracelet Phainon gave you a year ago. All you do is break his heart, but his unwavering love and golden loyalty will always persevere. True love is not a painless process - it’s okay if Phainon is the only one hurting right now. Soon, you will, too. 

Discarding his shoes, Phainon climbs onto the bed and crawls over until his face looms above yours. He breathes you in, unabashedly smelling a mix of liquor, sweat, and remnants of your usual perfume. You smell so good. Licking his lips, he slowly leans down, nose nuzzling into the base of your neck where he can smell you better. He closes his eyes and drinks it all in, savoring the smell and cataloguing it in his brain - no different from a tantalizing wine. If he leans down further, your breast will press against his chest - his arms threaten to give out just thinking about it. 

Your smell, your neck, your breasts, your face, your fingers, your arms - so many wishes he wants to fulfill, yet so little time. But even neck-deep into his (Y/N)-induced haze, he knows that he can’t be caught by you or anyone else. His love story with you can’t end before it even started. 

Phainon pulls back, whimpering at the loss of contact. Blearily opening his eyes, he locks onto the apple of his eye: your lips, the main show of his romantic fantasies. He’s always wondered what it’d be like to kiss you. Foolishly, he even thought about being your first kiss before your boyfriend cruelly shattered that dream into dust. 

Kissing you now, with you deep in slumber, can serve as practice for him. So when he kisses you truthfully, you’ll be awed at how well he knows your body. And perhaps, it’s also because he’s a pervert who can no longer contain his perverse nature in his mind. 

A kiss is a kiss, regardless of his true intent. His right hand softly parts your mouth open, greedily wanting all tongue and spit for his first time with you. 

“You won’t mind, right?” He softly whispers, centimeters away from your lips. A reply never comes, but the way he devours your mouth may as well serve as a yes. It’s everything he’s dreamed of. An accomplishment that no award or credential can hope to compete with. This is his life’s calling; with you, inside you, lavishing you.

Unknowingly, clear droplets fall from his eyes, rolling down his cheekbones and disappearing into the fabric of your T-shirt. Phainon thinks you are too mean. In fact, you’re quite heartless for withholding this exhilarating experience from him. You’re too mean in the way you treat his heart carelessly, even if unintentional. It breaks even under your gentle caress and airy touch, for it knows that your own heart is not his to treasure. It beats to the syllables of your name, but you're unaware.

For that: He can’t take it anymore - he can’t. He can’t. He just can’t. Phainon cannot live as your best friend, he can’t be satisfied with anything less than being your husband. He must be your other half, else, what would be the point in life? He refuses the reality he has right now; craves the ideal one in his dreams.

Had he met you a few years earlier, the outcome would surely be different. It's not fair, he childishly thinks. Love shouldn't be first come, first serve; it should be just like the storybooks he read during his childhood, where true love waits for hundreds of years, immune to the passage of time. 

He parts from your lips, panting. Desperate for more, yet wanting to abstain from your lips, fearful he’ll be too addicted to you. 

“I love you,” his toned body collapses on the bed’s free space, limbs akin to jelly, eyes utterly fixated on you. Always has been ever since he met you during freshman year. He repeats again, “I love you, (Y/N).”

A shaky hand intertwines itself with your unconscious one. He wonders if married life will be like this.

With a faraway look in his eyes, Phainon whispers to no one in particular: “I’ll correct everything, I promise.”

Then, he dives back in to kiss you until he's shed off all thoughts irrelevant outside of this room – careful not to wake you. He must kiss you until you familiarize yourself with his saliva and lips, ridges of his teeth and heat of his tongue, the crevices of his mouth and vibration of his moan, even in your sleep. 

He stays in the guest room for an hour more, uncaring for your boyfriend sleeping all alone next door.

Months ago, the moment Mydei realized Phainon wasn’t giving up on you, even with a boyfriend in the picture, he had asked: “Are you this stubborn with your past crushes?”

Phainon shook his head and answered honestly, “I’ve never had a crush before. (Y/N) is my first and true love.”

You are the one for him; an outcome stating otherwise will have to be bent until it, too, rings true. 

Phainon is ‘studying’ in the library a few days later. Tucked into a corner with the seat next to him occupied by his schoolbag. Truthfully, he’s only here because you asked to study together, but knowing you for this long, it’s simply code for ‘I need to complain about something to you’ since you prefer to study in your apartment. 

His laptop has gone to sleep mode, notes strewn about in an illusion of productivity, while Phainon makes a growing pile of bird origamis on the table. It’s a him and you thing - tradition born from a shared class with a professor who had melatonin for a voice. 

He hears your footsteps a few meters from him at a hurried pace. He briefly speculates whether you still remember his kisses in your subconscious before brushing it off, you’ll remember soon enough. 

Right when you’re behind him, Phainon smiles and asks, “What’s wrong?”

“My boyfriend’s mad at me,” you groan, haphazardly dropping your bag on the table. You collapse into the chair, limbs sprawled out, and take a deep breath.

Phainon’s paper folding is paused, neck snapping to face you. Your boyfriend never amounts to anything, so- “Why?”

“I realized I lost my necklace the day after the party,” you begin, “I thought I just left it lying on some floor, so I asked March to check for me but she couldn’t find it. I told him, and he started lecturing me that if he can keep his necklace, then he expects me to keep mine safe, too!”

He frowns, feeling the warmth of your locket in the pocket of his jeans. “That’s ridiculous - you didn’t mean to.”

You nod vigorously, “Right!? That’s what I told him, yet…! I get it! Ugh, I really do! But he’s so worked up about this for some reason. Acting like I purposely lost it at the party - someone probably saw it and threw it in the trash by accident, so what? Nothing I can do now!”

Phainon clicks his tongue, “I never knew your boyfriend could be so immature. He’s probably sensitive from other problems in his life, but that’s no excuse to be such a jackass to you.”

It’s a good call that he pocketed your locket, then. 

“Oh, please,” you roll your eyes, mindlessly picking up one of the countless bird origamis, “Shy types like him are always the most entitled, I feel like. But wait- don’t tell him I told you that.”

“Why would I?” Phainon bellows a laugh, “I’m your friend, not his. Always on your side, you know?”

He looks elsewhere, “Besides… Maybe it’s not my place to say this, but he really shouldn’t be talking to you in that manner.” 

“Hm? Oh, don’t worry, this is just a normal couple argument.” You reach up to ruffle his white hair, “I don’t take him too seriously when we’re fighting.”

He sighs, anchoring his head down for better access, “I just think you shouldn’t settle for someone like that.”

You smile, endeared by his thoughtfulness. “I wouldn’t. I’ll talk it out with him, don’t worry.”

That’s not what he meant. 

He takes a while before speaking again, “Well. Either way, if there’s a problem – just call me, okay?”

He mulls it over his head for an indefinite amount of time: How can he remove your boyfriend from the picture? 

If this truly played out like his childhood storybooks, then it’s easy to assign the roles: you are the princess in need of saving, the parasite by your side is the monster who threatens the livelihood of the entire kingdom, and Phainon is the knight in shining armor protected by the narrative. He needs no deep contemplations because the monster’s defeat has already been woven into the story’s ending, bound through inked letters. No matter what, it will be a happy ever after: the knight saves the princess, and they are wed. A linear process with no real complications. 

Unfortunately, Phainon is a college student who’s never held a sword in his life, and you have no royal blood. This is the cruel, harsh real life. But the monster is still a monster, regardless of setting. 

But he loves being around you too much to ever plan on removing him by the means of murder, even with his constant violent urges. 

He’d tried seducing you during your shared class together, but loyalty is a virtue you strongly hold onto. Even manufactured incidents, such as forgetting an umbrella with a storm outside, tripping into your arms, or being too clingy with you under the influence of alcohol, were all for naught. You never saw him beyond the title of friend because you’d turn your phone on, and your boyfriend would be there waiting for you on the lockscreen. 

He understands. The possibility of seeing Phainon as a dating candidate will remain zero so long as your boyfriend is within arm’s reach. But he remains selfish, unreasonably so. 

Once night falls, Phainon is absentmindedly playing with the locket he stole from you, repeating the question in his mind: How can he remove your boyfriend from the picture? 

The metal warms beneath his fingertips as it’s slowly rolled around his desk, silence in the room stretching on into uncertainty. He lays it face up to toy with the lid, the clasp making a clicking noise every time he slams it open and shut. Phainon doesn’t have it in him to look at the frankly disgusting couple photo nestled inside - he refuses to. 

Click. Click. Cli-

His finger slips, losing its momentum and forcing the locket to stay open longer than necessary. Phainon is forced to look at the atrocious couple photo as he repositions his hand. The image is still the same: your boyfriend looking at you with slimy, gooey eyes while you gave finger hearts inside the photobooth. It’s unsightly - your boyfriend taints your perfection and infects you with the mold that he perpetually carries around.

He’s tempted to ruin this locket and the printed picture over an open fire, only to see the satisfying visual of your boyfriend melting before his eyes. You don’t need this dingy thing after all - it’s all your asshole boyfriend’s fault for kicking up a fuss over it. 

Yet Phainon pauses his train of thought in favor of a new one. Remembering what you confined in him earlier, he picks up the locket and observes it up close, shadowed in its display from the fluorescent lights overhead. 

If your boyfriend is truly the immature rascal that Phainon hopes he is, then perhaps this very locket he stole may just be the key to all his problems; sent down from the heavens to answer his wish, just like they do in fairytales. So long as he withholds the locket from you, then your relationship will crumble to its own accord.

It’s less about the locket and more about the principle behind it, you find yourself explaining. 

Not even a week later, Phainon agrees to meet up with you in a cafe not far from campus, intent on listening to you complain about your most recent argument with your boyfriend. 

In your own words: “I have to speak to you because I need a guy's perspective on this.”

He nods, anchoring his elbows on the table, “Got it. I’m all ears!”

To reiterate your point: your boyfriend is hung up on the reaction you had rather than the locket as an item itself. He thought of your non-panicky reaction as a form of disrespect in your relationship, because if it were reversed, he would’ve gone crazy trying to look for it. 

“That’s still his point?” Phainon briefly cuts in to shake his head in disapproval, “He needs to let this go.”

Your boyfriend should drag it on further, Phainon hopes. 

You roll your eyes, “You’d be surprised. Every conversation we’ve been having lately is about that locket. I don’t get it, I’ve lost couple items before, even he did! But for some reason, he’s frothing at the mouth looking for that thing. I already placed my order for a new one on a different site, but he insisted that I cancel… which kind of hurt, to be honest.”

“That’s fair,” He easily agrees, “You’re trying to make up for an honest mistake but he’s refusing - that would hurt me, too.”

“I knew you’d get me, Phai,” You sigh in relief. “He told me to go back to that house and re-check it myself and if I keep refusing, he’ll be the one to go.”

“Oh? I didn’t know he had it in him.” Phainon laughs under his breath. Your shy boyfriend? Marching up to that trio’s house to survey the floors like it’s his job? He doubts that man would actually pull it off. It’s all bark, no bite. 

“He’s going crazy looking for it, I’m telling you!” You take a long sip of your ordered beverage, “That’s why I wanted to ask for your thoughts on this. What would you do if you were in a similar situation to my boyfriend?”

Phainon pretends to think about it. 

“...Well. I'm speaking as a man, you know? Man to man,” He licks his lips, “But I swear, I wouldn’t treat my girlfriend like that. This entire problem is blown out of proportion because of him.”

“You’re making it sound like he’s abusing me.” You deadpan.

“Listen! If my girlfriend told me that she didn’t mean to, then that would be the end of the situation. I wouldn’t dare to drag it because that’d bring distress to her. I don’t want her to feel anything less than the center of my world. Her happiness is my happiness… if that makes any sense.”

He, Phainon, would never sully your relationship with a pointless argument. If you were with him from the start, you’ll never find yourself in this situation. 

You blink, “Huh. That was sappy.”

His ears burn bright, retort to defend his honor at the tip of his tongue, but you intercept before he can speak.

“But really sweet. I can’t believe guys like you still exist,” A soft giggle, “Keep that up, Phainon, and maybe you’ll find yourself a girlfriend before the year ends.”

Phainon scratches his cheek, “I’m speaking from my heart.”

“I know.”

“So… Please find it in your heart to think about your boyfriend’s refusal to see your point. There’s plenty of fish in the sea. You’ll find someone else, I’m sure of this.”

This time, you visibly hesitate. 

“...I know. I don’t want to break up over an annoying locket, but I’ll keep your advice in mind.”

Your boyfriend’s reaction is unnatural; there’s more to it beyond being mad at your lack of urgency. There has to be.

Phainon re-examines the locket in his hand, eyeballs mere inches away from it as he pours time to solve this apparent mystery. He’s never been the closest to him, yet Phainon knows it’s not within his usual behavior to hold grudges against you. One of the main reasons your relationship has lasted three years and ongoing is his amicable nature - for a switch to be flipped, this locket must be hiding something important to him. 

It twists and flips in his hold, tilted left and right, front and back, opened and closed. And repeated until he finally sees something. 

There, at the side of the inner lid, read the engraved words: ‘Will You Marry Me?’

Oh.

He laughs, finding true humor in your boyfriend’s actions. He gets the fuss now, this locket is meant to be a proposal plan in motion for years. He understands that loser’s line of thinking: he gifted it to you during your 3rd year anniversary, it becomes a familiar item after a few years, and one day -  graduated and now a working man - he’ll slip the ring into the compartment with the picture while you’re not looking and he’d ask you to look inside, angle your head, and squint at the small text hidden in plain sight. 

It’ll be a proposal rooted in the sentiment of, “It’s been here all along; how could you not have noticed?”

You’d swoon at this, you certainly will. This would be the type of proposal that’ll have you retelling the story to your children and grandchildren down the line, recalling the moment with nothing else but utmost fondness. The arguments that resulted in this locket would be rendered null from the effort your boyfriend exerted. You’d forgive him in a heartbeat and leave Phainon in the dust. 

The locket is enclosed within his palm as Phainon breathes out a sigh of relief. 

With this in his possession, that proposal won’t be happening in the future. Not happening at all.

He’s fortunate. A man blessed by the Amphorean Titans, he truly must have been a world-saving hero in his past life.

“My boyfriend claimed you’ve been saying nonsense.”

Phainon raises a brow, “He knows I’ve been in the know about this entire locket situation?”

“Unfortunately,” you shake your head, “He found out after he saw your text notification on my lockscreen. You know? The one where you called him a jackass.”

“Oh… But I’m not in the wrong, am I?”

You laugh, “No. You’re not.”

A wedge driven between you and your boyfriend is Phainon’s own benefit.

Arguments don’t last forever. A week and a half later, Phainon is informed through text that you’ve made up with your boyfriend. Everything is fine now, apparently. But Phainon sees the cracks that can’t be patched up in the aftermath of that locket spiel your boyfriend had been on. Not glaringly obvious, subtly there - for him to see and exploit. All he needs is a minuscule crack in your perfect relationship for him. 

You think less of your boyfriend now, not as trusting with him anymore in fear that he’ll trip up and go on another temper tantrum over a minor issue. A situation purely in his favor, as the moment March announced another party the ‘Express Crew’ will be hosting, who you gravitate to is not your boyfriend, it’s Phainon.

“Come to the party, please!” You begged him while the professor’s back was turned. 

“Your boyfriend’s not going?” Phainon subsides the hope poking through his chest, but when you look up at him with those pleasing eyes…

“No. Not that I’d want him there,” You frown, “He might flip if I end up losing another necklace or something, so come with me! It won’t be the same without you. Be my watchguard!”

“Oh, I see,” He feigns hurt, “You just want me there to watch over you while you get drunk!”

Shamelessly, you nod. “Correct! Correct! I can’t have my boyfriend ruin this for me, pleaseee Phainon. I need you for this!”

He folds under zero pressure - his agreement to come with you was cemented even before you asked.

It’s come full circle. 

Perfectly mirroring the last party, the current one plays out as its reflection, with only one singular change: your boyfriend isn’t in the picture. Phainon is in his rightful place now - right by your side. You fall into a familiar rhythm: drinking liquor while playing board games, arguing who really won that round, stumbling to walk, so inebriated that Phainon has to coax Dan Heng for those two guest rooms once more. 

It’s so, so similar yet different in the same breath. Instead of observing you from afar, Phainon is placed front and center. A taste of what his future will be, he salivates just thinking about it. He can’t wait to be your boyfriend turned husband. He really can’t; he’s been patient enough. 

For now, he opens the door of the guest room and gently ushers you inside, treating your drunken state with the fragility of handling glass. You trip and fall into the bed, causing Phainon to yelp in surprise. Instead of stepping out to enter his own room next door, he stays. There’s no boyfriend to tell him off, it’s free rein as far as he’s concerned. He can stay here with you under the guise of genuine concern and ‘looking out for you’. 

He sits at the mattress’s edge, fondly watching you savor the plush pillows and fuzzy blankets. His happy ending is within his grasp now, no longer miles away compared to the last time he was in this room. You mumble something incomprehensible, he inches closer. 

“Hm? What was that?” 

“...ow… up…” You groan, groggily pushing yourself to sit. He steadies you with one hand, “I.. I thinkI’mgonnathrowup.” 

He helps you into the bathroom, flickering the light on and gently rubbing your back in circular motions. You had too much alcohol this time. His arms wrap around your waist to sit you down on the sink. He makes conversation with you while wiping your mouth clean, feeding you deception after deception. 

“Dan Heng only gave me one guest room. I hope you don’t mind sharing a room with me.” He lies with ease as he throws the paper towel into the trash can. You nod, not fully understanding the gravity of the situation. 

Phainon knows this, but he still smiles; grateful for your blind kindness, “Thank you, let’s go sleep.”

If Dan Heng asks, Phainon will lie again and tell him that you really wanted him to stay in your room. It’s as easy as that. The lights in the room are turned off, but the lamplight stays. Phainon discards his pants, leaving him in his boxers as he crawls inside the warm covers. You’re so close to him, it’s been too long since he’s last had you like this. 

He needs to kiss you again.

Scooting closer to you, Phainon grows bold with his actions. You’re most probably blackout drunk, unfairly tempting in his eyes, and he’s hungry for everything you have; he wants it all and then some. Testing the waters, he lifts his hand to play with your bottom lip. You don’t push him away even in your intoxicated state, it’s enough of a permission for him.

Reminiscent of the first time, he’s centimeters away from your lips when he softly whispers, “This is fine, right? You’re okay with this.”

You blink a few times and nod. His hand travels down to your neck, holding you in place as he replaces the remnants of vomit in your mouth with the unknowingly familiar taste of his mouth. It’s vastly different from the first time - your tongue isn’t limp, it’s reciprocating, albeit in clumsy motions. 

The missing locket remains in his pants’ pocket, lying pathetically on the floor a few feet away, reminding him he wouldn’t be winning had your boyfriend attended the party with you. 

A narrow crack; a single event is all he needed to tear your relationship down to the ground. 

Tomorrow, he’ll retell the events of what happened and paint it out to be an accident born from mutual inebriation, but it won’t erase the blaring problem that you’ve cheated on your boyfriend.

You’ll be so scared, he imagines, and he’ll swoop in to save you like the hero he’s always wanted to be.

Phainon and the bad bitch he pulled after stealing her locket.

[nightskyiskra]

TFC X reader

★ A game of Hide and Seek ★

Imagine playing an elaborate game of Hide and seek with them... But you're really determined not to loose

Not your fault that you're good at their game

★★☆★★☆★★☆★★

A/n: an idea... Hehe enjoy

Oh btw, I think this will have a few endings... I'll post them separately but will try to link them once they're up. Hope you enjoy:)

Tw: mentions of reader being eaten, fear, some dark themes maybe, being chased, Harlequin being Harlequin, slight mentions of explicit things

Disclaimer: This is a work based on an 18+ visual novel, and even though there is not much explicit content here, it is not intended for those underage

★★☆★★☆★★☆★★

"Looks like our little pet is getting agitated" Jester mused after yet again you tried to sneak out of the circus.

"You know, dear guest, this was unnecessary and out of line..."

"This is dumb. I'm allowed to leave the tents. I've left before"

"Not without informing us first" Ticket Taker says. What you hear is 'not without permission'.

"Darling, you know how easy it is to kidnap people," Jester's tone carries slight notes of mockery.

You sigh, "Seeing as I am practically kidnapped by all of you right now... Yeah, I do"

"We just worry for your safety, My Lady" Pierrot's head rests on your shoulder, so you have to turn to grab his face in your hands. A light blush coats his cheeks at your action.

"As much as I love you, Pierrot, and as much as I want to believe it, I'm afraid you're the only one who is actively concerned for my safety in this case. The others... just really like telling me 'no', for some reason"

That earns a chuckle from Jester.

The Doctor cocks his head to the side: "It is hardly our fault your reactions to refusal are so... intriguing. Ranging from bickering and giving a cold shoulder to outright disregarding whatever we say."

"Is that so? Maybe I should add rearranging your supplies to the range... Or running away from the circus and getting married in Vegas?" You cross your arms and pout, feeling even more outraged when Doctor takes out a notebook and jots something down.

"Perhaps your energy should be redirected elsewhere... How about a game, darling?"

"A game? What, like hide and seek?"

"Could be hide and seek"

★☆★

"You'll have an hour to hide... Anywhere, wherever you desire"

You bite your tongue tempted to ask if you could buy a plane ticket and leave the country in that one hour... If you timed it right and was very lucky you'd probably manage it.

"Once the time is up we begin our hunt"

"Weird word choice," you mumble

Their smiles widen.

"Be assured dear, this word choice is intentional" Harlequin leans into your personal space, curling a loose strand of your hair around his finger. He's making it hard to focus.

"Alright... And once you capture me..."

"Once you're caught... You're at the complete mercy of your captor"

"What?" This sounds absurd, so it takes for Jester to reiterate it, for it to trully sink in.

"Once you are caught... We'll do as we please"

"Oh..." You stare at your feet for a few seconds

They all wait patiently for you to say something else.

"Did- did you have dinner tonight? You're... Not hungry are you?"

It takes them a moment to process your question, before they laugh.

"Your worried face is adorable"

"There are different types of hunger, dear... And I'm already starved for you" Harlequin runs his fingers down the side of your face and stops at your pulse point. He presses lightly to feel it beneath his fingers

"My Lady, don't take him seriously, we won't eat you"

"Thanks..."

"It would do you well to remember, darling, that Pierrot can only promise for himself... The night is long... Who knows how we'll feel about devouring you by the end of it..." The whole situation seems to be highly amusing to Jester.

Your eyes widened again at this.

He grins, "I merely jest"

Despite yourself you let out a giggle. It's rare to have Jester in such a good mood... He must be thoroughly enjoying the whole ordeal.

"Be assured, guest, your death would inconvenience us, we shall refrain from harming you, as long as you follow the orders"

"Leave it to Ticket Taker to validate your feelings and make you feel needed" Harlequin laughs.

You send Harlequin a small smile, before asking a question that has been bugging you for half of the conversation:

"And if you don't succeed in getting me?"

"I wouldn't worry your pretty head with that improbability. We have the entire night"

"I don't think this is very fair. You guys have a clear advantage. I mean, there's five of you... And I'm only one"

"Ah, but here's where you're mistaken, darling... We do not like to share." There was a dangerous glimmer in their eyes. You realised they would not be playing as a team... No... For this night they'd be enemies, all striving to win. And you're the prize.

They savour your expression for a moment, before Jester gives you a little shove.

"Now run along little mouse. Hide. Run. Do what you like... We already know how this ends"

His words are enough to send you sprinting out of the tent and into the night.

★☆★

That was 40 minutes ago. Now you were wandering the streets. Still 20 minutes of protected time and you were keeping a steady pace, trying to put as much distance between yourself and them as you could.

You had to silence your phone 10 minutes into the game - it was going off incessantly with messages from Harlequin - brainstorming what he'd do to you once he caught you. Apparently waiting was taking a toll on him if he decided to bombard you with such very descriptive imagery.

At the 45 minute mark your phone rings. You automatically decline. Harlequin has tried calling you 10 times in the past 10 minutes. He really is getting impatient. Apparently just texting you his fantasies isn't enough anymore.

It buzzes with a text. With a sigh you take it out, fully intent on blocking Harlequin for the duration of the night. Will it make him more vengeful if he catches you? Definitely. But at this point you're willing to take your chances. Besides. Him catching you is only a 1 in 5 probability.

There are worse candidates to piss off. Like Jester.

The text is from Ticket Taker. Brief and to the point:

"It would do you well not to decline Jester's calls next time, doll. You wouldn't want to anger the one who could hold your fate in his claws by the end of the night..."

Ah... Guess you jinxed it.

You try dialing Jester again a few times. But apparently he's taking pleasure in declining your calls after you declined his. Great.

Instead, you call Ticket Taker. He picks up, bit it's Jester who speaks, "Darling, learn to pick up your phone. You have it for a reason"

"Sorry...I thought it was-"

"I'm aware. Which is why I'll let this one slide"

"Really?"

"No" there is laughter and mirth in his voice, "I'll consider it. The events of the night can sway my opinion," he muses, "speaking of...There is a slight change in rules"

"Midgame?"

"Yes. We'll start our hunt a bit early"

"How early?"

"Now"

"What? But- that's not-" you sputter.

"Unfortunately your lack of engagement made Harlequin really impatient. He has already started. And we can't have him get an advantage, can we? Besides... Pierrot is not taking the wait well, especially now that Harlequin is out and about"

"Of fucking course it was Harlequin" you mutter.

"I wouldn't waste your breath on curses, darling, now, run along, don't make the chase end too soon... Make it interesting"

★☆★

By the third hour you get an inkling that perhaps this was never meant to be a simple game. Perhaps they treated it as more of an elaborate foreplay than an actual competition. Perhaps you were meant to let them catch you. You debate searching for one of them. But quickly brush the idea aside. Then you debate calling Jester or Ticket Taker... Probably not Harlequin... To ask for clarifications... But you can easily imagine how that conversation would go:

"Hi, I'm a bit dense. Was this meant to be foreplay or something?"

No... You are not ready for that type of humiliation yet.

Besides. You've already made up your mind. You would really love to see their faces at dawn. After you have successfully evaded capture. You can practically taste the sweet flavour of victory... Oh that would be just marvelous... Simply exhilarating. The mere thought of beating those monsters at a game you were never meant to win fills you with adrenaline and it's all you need to keep going...

You always had a bit of a competitive streak. It made everything that much more fun...

★☆★

Four hours in and you get a call from Pierrot. You contemplate letting it go to voicemail, but begrudgingly pick up. He tends to worry more than necessary. And while it's endearing... It's probably not great for his state.

Besides, he should not suffer just because Harlequin annoyed you into not picking up calls (that already happened with Jester and you had no interest in expanding the list of people you ghosted).

"My Lady? Are you alright?" His tone is laced with concern, making your heart swell.

"Of course I am, why? Should I... Not be... Alright?" You laugh nervously.

"We haven't caught you yet, I thought something happened to you."

"Oh Pierrot, I promise I'm alright. I'm just really good at running and hiding."

"You are, My Lady, but I'd prefer you didn't. At least not from me. I miss you already."

"I promise, once the game is over, I'll give you as many cuddles as you want, deal?"

"But My Lady, you could tell me where you are now... And we wouldn't have to wait," he sounds so convincing you're tempted to give in.

You chuckle, "But Pierrot, that's probably against the rules"

You can sense him pouting through the phone. You're about to say something more comforting, when you notice a looming presence out of the corner of your eye. Instead, you say:

"Pierrot? I gotta go, unless you want me caught by someone else"

You turn towards the figure, stuffing your phone back in your pocket. Tall, broad shoulders. Would be very very intimidating if you didn't know him as well as you do, and even now in the dark, illuminated by the moonlight, he still sends shivers down your spine.

"Hey," you try for a casual greeting. You did not expect to be caught so quickly.

He nods in acknowledgement, his soft steps resonate quietly on the ground as he approaches slowly.

"Your little escapade is about to be terminated"

"Interesting hypothesis, I'd love to disproove it"

"I'm afraid you don't have a chance, sweetie, I do not like leaving my patients unattended for a long time" he smiles and approaches you, there is soft fondness in his demeanour, which goes in dissonance with his menacing figure.

"Ah, but tonight I'm more of a riveting experiment, you must agree... And experiments are not to be interfered with"

"I've had enough impartial observations for tonight, dear, I would like to move on to a more hands-on approach"

"How did you track me down?" You try to prolong the conversation, giving yourself precious seconds to find a way out. You can't have this end so soon.

"You will be disappointed, sweetheart, pure chance... Or perhaps good intuition of what my patient likes"

You hum noncomitally, a plan already half-formed in your head. It's only fair you use any and every means of escape you have, you reason. Especially considering you're not caught, yet...

Jester told you to make it interesting... And you will...

You begin your motion, careful not to alert him. Though you're already certain he clocked in that you're up to something.

"You do know me pretty well..."

In fact, you have an inkling he even knows what you're about to do... In vague details... But is letting you proceed, curious to where it may lead...

"Well enough to know you do not intend to give in so easily... Tell me, why is that?"

"A secret," you grin.

"You must be mistaken, sweetheart, a patient does not have secrets from their Doctor... I am disappointed my favourite one would forget such an important rule"

"That's fair... I suppose I just enjoy the thrill and the taste of freedom.. or maybe I just want to win."

The lights right ahead signal the approaching bus, you pay it no mind, afraid even a flicker of eyes in that direction might betray your intentions. No, until the very last moment you will not look.

"You look mesmerising... When your heart pounds in your chest and adrenaline courses through your veins," he observes, "It is a good look on you"

The bus stops.

"I'm sorry, Doctor, but I think I might have to reschedule my appointment," you say before making a mad dash for the already closing doors.

He watches the bus drive off with an almost fond smile. He was always one of the most lenient towards you, somehow.

You get a text message:

"Of course, sweetheart, the Doctor always wants what's best for their patient. But I do hope to rendezvous with you tonight once more... Perhaps you won't run off the next time"

You grin. His response makes your heart beat just a bit faster. That and how he always manages to clock in your every mood and craving - much how right now you absolutely need to continue the game (and to win, of course)

★☆★

You halt at the train station to catch your breath. The lit up sign says the next one out of town is in 10 minutes. Of course you weren't planning on leaving. That's not the point of the game. Which by the way, has really grown on you. But it was a very good opportunity to tease your favourite monsters.

You take a photo, posing where they could see the sign and the ticket purchasing machine.

And scramble to get some distance between yourself and the station before sending it to the group chat.

You: Jester told me to keep it interesting and the prices are low enough... Is that entertaining enough for you?

Pierrot: My Lady?

Jester: I didn't take you for such a fool as to give us a beacon of your location

Doctor: Such an unpredictable subject...

Ticket Taker: An inconvenience is more accurate. I told you she'd pull a stupid stunt like this

Harlequn's was the most concerning. It came a minute after the others and was a photo of the very station with a caption "Nowhere left to run... Since you can't escape anyway, you might as well review the texts I sent you while waiting"

Such a cocky text. It deserves an equally arrogant response:

You: dumbass. You'd think I'd send you a pic from my actual location? Try again:)

★☆★

The forest was a stupid idea after all... You'd think that they all would stick to the city... The actual place you'd most likely to be at... But somehow, Harlequin and you had both ended up in the forest. In the exact same spot. Cool...

His eyes glimmer a menacing green in the dark, like two emeralds. You take a step back, contemplating whether running back was still on the table. Probably not anymore... His agility was something to be envious of.

"Looks like I win, and I'm here to claim my prize"

You purse your lips.

"Technically, you still didn't catch me." You state stubbornly.

"Really? You still insist on not loosing? Hah... Let's wrap this up quickly and get to the fun part, what do you say, hm? What would you count as me catching you?"

If you were going to loose, you might as well make the loss fun for yourself, "You'd probably have to pin me down or wrap your arms around me."

His grin widens, "Oh how I love when you get so bold, my dear," he takes a slow deliberate step towards you, savouring the moment, no doubt, "Let's not make a technicality halt us then."

Neither of you get a chance to get much further, as Harlequin gets struck in the shoulder by a dagger. You yelp in surprise and look around in alarm before spotting a grim looking Pierrot. And he has at least a few more daggers on hand.

"Pierrot... Right on cue to ruin the moment... If I felt more charitable I'd have suggested you join in, but I don't share"

Before you can so much as blink Pierrot is on Harlequin. They merge into a blur of taunts and fists and maybe knives.

You take a tentative step back. They don't notice - too engrossed.

"I'll uh... Leave you guys to it" you give the two fighting figures a thumbs up before running out of the forest.

Technicalities fucking matter

★☆★

You halted only for a few minutes, to catch your breath, and on a rooftop, no less. How in hell did Ticket Taker manage to find you that quickly... You would never comprehend it.

He stood, hands behind his back, calmly surveying as you desperately intake the cold night air. Your whole body felt heavy and tired, so your rather less than graceful leaning on the railing could be excused. It took you embarrassingly longer than it should have to spot him. In fact, you only noticed his presence once he placed his jacket over your shoulders.

The sudden grounding heaviness of it startled you. Your legs almost gave out under you.

It was stupid to think you'd get even a few minutes of a reprieve. With shaking arms you pushed yourself from the railing, stumbling, but ready to run at a moment's notice, he nodded in acknowledgement.

"I wouldn't do that, dearest"

You frown, "Of course you wouldn't want me to start running. I'm easier to catch if I don't"

"You look too tired to even make it down the stairs. It would be advisable to rest"

You heart was still pounding in your chest - undecided whether from all the running, the jumpscare he gave you or from having his jacket over your shoulders, while he stood mere centimetres away from you.

He surveyed the night city, while you were still catching your breath. Now that the adrenaline and the constant anxious pounding in your skull over getting caught subsided, you were immensely grateful for his jacket. Only now did you notice how chilly the air was and how absolutely frozen you felt. You huddled the jacket tighter around your frame.

He glanced at his pocket watch, "Rest time is over. Now, we shall proceed with what I have planned for this eventuality" his lips stretched into a smile, as his gloved hand reached towards you.

Before he could touch you, you pushed off the railing, taking a few steps back.

"Tsk. Didn't I tell you that obedience looks better on you? I shall be disappointed if we waste precious time here because of you"

You were eyeing the exits, your mind running ten miles a second, coming up with escape plans and routes. But help and an opportunity of escape came from the least expected source.

"No need for such haste, Bil," a dark hand fell on Ticket Taker's shoulder. He seemed startled at it and at the silky words of the speaker.

You were already inching yourself towards the exit. Jester crossed the distance, halting your escape and blocking you from Ticket Taker with one arm.

"Jester? I thought we were above such petty squabbles, unlike certain other members of the troupe"

"Rest assured, dear friend, we are. Unfortunately, those very members of the troupe left quite a mess. It must be dealt with."

You take your chances where you can:

"Nice move, Jester, send him away to deal with the mess to have your way with me unobstructed"

Jester narrowed his eyes at you, but snapped his attention back to Ticket Taker:

"Really now, Jester? The girl was mine... And I do not appreciate my schedule being interfered with"

You leave them to discuss it alone. It'll buy you a minute tops - they really are above petty squabbles and can easily spot your attempts to sow discord... But you'll take what you can get... Besides, a busy street is right around here somewhere. Getting lost in the crowd is exactly what you need right now...

You feel two pairs of eyes burn into your back as you disappear amongst strangers and street lights.

★☆★

The two figures on the rooftop sighed at your departure into the night. The taller one clad in dark purple turned to the other:

"I didnt expect her to be so stubborn in her escape. One could think she'd be smart enough to recognise this game for what it is."

A beat of silence.

"You don't think she truly believes we'd devour her? She should know by now that we have no such inclinations towards her"

"Hmm, our inclinations towards her are..." Jester gestured vaguely, searching for a word, before settling on: "Different. That is true..."

"Perhaps your attempt at humour earlier frightened her" Ticket Taker ponders, a quiet jab at his friend

"I think we have simply miscalculated."

"Miscalculated? You?" There is incredulity in his tone

"Our darling Y/n is a bit more clueless and has a far deeper competitive streak than I imagined... Still, makes the victory that much more sweeter."

★☆★

You shivered as the sky slowly turned from midnight to a dark violet, soon to be rosy with sunrise. The jacket Ticket Taker so courteously lent you - what a gentleman - provided meager warmth as you huddled it tighter around you. You walked the empty streets, briefly wondering if the monsters have given up on finding you.

You shoot them a quick "given up yet?" text and see 5 typing bubbles. A few second later you receive your responses:

"Of course not, My Lady" - Pierrot, ever so sweet.

"No, but you should... If you let me get you now, I promise to be merciful~" - Harlequin, the flirt he is...

"Fascinating confidence for someone right within my reach" - Jester, his mysterious and thinly veiled threats that sent your heart racing just like his compliments and affection did. He truly had a way with words.

"No. I have quite a lot in mind I want to do which would require your assistance" - Doctor, ever so blunt, so forward with his intentions

"You have already taken more time out of our schedule than you ought to. Let's not prolong the inevitable, dearest. Now, be a good girl" - Ticket Taker, he can be so uptight... But just as charming when he wants to be

They were persistent. And you've had a lot of close run-ins throughout the night. They remained ever so determined to get you.

You smile softly at the memories. You are rather fond of them. Perhaps fondness is too weak of a word... With the cool night air and sky the colour of violets another word burrows it's way into your mind - Love. It startles you slightly... But settles in so naturally in your mind you can't refute it.

The game is coming to a closure. A shame. It was fun... It would be nice to maybe watch the sunset rise on some rooftop and then show up to the circus beaming with victory. Or maybe it would be more fun to... Let one of them catch you... After all, it's not a complete loss for you if you let them. And there just might be one who really deserves a win...

★★☆★★☆★★☆★★

A/n: let me know what you think and I'll start on some of the endings... Soon... Yeah

Endings:

Pierrot

Ticket Taker

Doctor

[losttraindreams]

That one time I got isekaied into a freak circus soulmate au: Chapter 3: Circus Trip no Road Trip

The freak circus does not belong to me, nor do any of the characters shown. Pierrot and any other characters mentioned belong to nekoboydreams here on tumblr. This is a polycircus fanfiction where you end up with all the clowns. Mc is all the circus members soulmate.

Warnings: Pierrot, stalking, breaking and entering and noncon kissing (just kissing nothing else)

Also if there are any spelling errors please tell me I have no beta reader besides myself. :3

· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·

Carol got home right as you were in the middle of making her burger. You had just put the cheese on top when you hear the front door open.

You expect to hear a sigh of a longer than average shift. But much to your surprise, no sigh is heard. Instead, you hear her keys get hanged up next to yours, and footsteps approach the kitchen.

"Hey, bestie...." You trail off clearly guilty as you turn to face her. You expect to see her glaring at you, but instead, she's smiling?

Must've been a good shift.

You have a bad gut feeling about this.

"Carol, why are you smiling?" I turn away from the stove and face her. "I thought you'd be mad." I ask, completely puzzled by her good mood. Her smile grows wider before she puts a finger to her mouth.

"That's a secret, though I am mad at you. I found the perfect way for you to make it up to me!~" She says with a sing-song voice. You watch her reach down into her pants pocket.

Dread fills your stomach. Already knowing about what she might pull out. "TAE DA!" She exclaims like some magician at a party.

In her hand are two tickets, one pink and the other a dull brown? You've never seen the other one before. Ticket Taker only offers ONE ticket, not two.

Is this change because of you not following the games script. That could be why you ran into the Doctor earlier, too. But why is the other ticket brown? Was the normal ticket always brown?

You try to remember the color of the regular admissions ticket, but nothing comes to mind. All you remember is that the pink ticket leads to the bad end where you get kidnapped. You also remember the red one is Pierrots ticket and the green is Harlequins. Dang, you should've read the game creators tumblr more often!

As you contemplate just how screwed you and Carol were, smoke begins to fill the apartment.

The burgers!

The audible blare of the smoke alarm goes off as you take the charred patties off the heat. Carol rushes to open up a window.

· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·

It's times like this you really wish she was here. She always knew what to do. Unfortunately, you don't have her here to convince Carol that going to the circus is a bad idea.

You also have no logical explanation to tell Carol why you both shouldn't go to the circus. You can't just say "Carol the circus is full of a bunch of human eating monsters! They will turn you into a mindless puppet and eat you once you're not useful anymore!"

What a pickle you found yourself in.

That's how you found yourself sitting silently at the kitchen table with Carol eating your slightly burnt burgers. Funnily enough, even charred, they still taste amazing.

"So how did you get those tickets? Did you really spend all your vacation money on 2 expensive tickets?" I ask her despite knowing the answer.

You know she met the Ticket Taker, and for some reason, he gave her a pink ticket, and what you assume is a regular admission ticket. Though you wonder why brown of all colors.

"Like I said before that's a secret. But you don't have to worry I spent no money on these." She says a big fat grin on her face. "But since I did work someone's shift I expect that tomorrow night we will go to the circus." Her smile turns devious. Out of everyone Carol is very aware of your proclaimed fear of clowns.

Little does she and everyone else know it's not a real fear of clowns. More so, you've been scared of running into any clowns on the off chance they're one of your soulmates. But you can't tell people that, so you simply say you have coulrophobia instead.

You cross your arms "But that will ruin our whole itinerary!" You had meticulously planned this vacation and budgeted everything. From what motels you'll both stay at to what attractions and sites you'll go to on each day.

Carol shrugs "Well you should've thought about that before I had to bus extra tables." Dang it Carol you must really wanna get kidnapped. "Plus it's way more fun doing spontaneous trips! Me and my brother used to do those all the time." She says before finishing her burger. She gets up leaving to go to her room.

"Wait what about tomorrow the circus doesn't open till sun down?!" You call after her your own burger long forgotten. She pokes her head out "We can finally visit that boardwalk at the edge of town. You've always wanted to go there right?" She winks at you before disappearing into her room.

You hear her door close and allow your face to plant on the table.

That was true but now you'll have to make sure Carol doesn't spend too much on carnival games. But even worse than that you'll have to go see your soulmates.

Neither Pierrot nor the doctor mentioned being soulmates with you. You're hoping that just not acknowledging your soulmarks glowing will be enough. It's been cold recently, so maybe you can get away with wearing gloves and a scarf.

You groan getting up to clean the dishes and put away the ones that are dry from yesterday. After you finish you notice Carol left the tickets on the table.

Picking them up, you take a closer look at the brown ticket. The pink one is still the same pink and gold with Columbina's wing symbol on it. Meanwhile, the brown ticket has all the circus members symbols on it in gold. They form a little arch over the words "The Freak Circus Ticket."

You don't remember the regular admission ticket being described in the game. But for some reason, the brown seems wrong. You can't put your finger on it, but you could've sworn the admission ticket was a different color.

You don't have time to dwell on it, you have a pair of jeans to finish. Going to your room, you make sure to grab the 2 tickets intending to give the Ticket Taker the cyan and brown ones.

You'll still keep the pink one, though, as a souvenir. You're a fan of the game still at heart, and while you can't get the Pierrot plushie anymore, at least you can get a real ticket.

Walking into your room, you place the tickets in your bag with the cyan one. Taking out your night clothes, you plan to shower and change in the bathroom.

You don't usually change in your bathroom, but you know Pierrot is watching you. The last thing you want to do is give him a free show. You do not wanna tempt that tiger.

While in the shower you contemplate just destroying the tickets. Yeah Carol will be pissed but it's for the greater good. But at the same time something in you wants to go to the circus.

You've heard that over time, soulmates will begin to feel an extreme need to be around each other. It's why most spend their lives with their soulmates. Soul scientists describe this as the pull. After being around your soulmates for enough time, you begin to crave being around them and will feel an unexplainable calm around them.

That's why you've been trying to stay away from them all day. If you really are feeling the pull already, then you have to leave tomorrow.

New plan! While in the car on the way to the boardwalk, you'll just "accidentally" let the circus tickets fly out the window. Problem solved, and after the boardwalk to cheer Carol up, you'll start your trip!

Confident in your plan, you get out of the shower and continue your nightly routine. After putting on your pajamas, you step into your room to find your balcony door slightly ajar.

Someone's in your room.

You close your balcony and briefly Glace at Pierrots soulmark on your hand. But much to your confusion it's not glowing.

Did he come in and just leave? On night 1, after MC saves Pierrot, he breaks into their room. But you'd know if Pierrot was in your room because of your soulmark glowing.

But now that you think about it your soulmark didn't glow when you were in the shower either.

If Pierrot is not in your room... then who is?

You look around, not finding anything out of the ordinary. You notice nothing out of place as your eyes scan the empty bedroom. Your notebook is on your desk, and so is your sewing machine. The tickets on your nightstand are still there as well, and all the plushies are correctly placed in the corner.

Nothing has been moved.

You glace at your closet the door closed like you left it. You get a feeling but quickly brush it off since Pierrots mark isnt glowing. You assume he's outside somewhere he's stayed just out of range to make it glow so far.

but no evidence of someone hiding in your room. Maybe you're just being overly paranoid and he really did just come in and leave.

Shaking your head you grab the patchwork jeans and crack open your energy drink. With your hand sewing kit and all the remaining patches your ready. Let's get to work!

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A tall figure sneaks into your room at around 4 am. He thought you'd never fall asleep. Though the determined look on your face was cute, he was looking forward to watching you sleep again.

He finds you sprawled out on the bed the finished jeans grasped in your arms. He wishes it was him instead of those jeans in your arm. An empty energy drink can lays on the covers next to you.

He smiles at how cute you look sleeping. His lady is the most adorable when she sleeps. He throws away the empty can and begins to slowly move you.

Starting with taking the jeans from you he places them on the back of your desk chair. He takes some of your blankets and as gently as possible moves you off them onto your mattress.

Luckily for him, you had an energy drink crash, and now you're in a deep sleep. Once you're tucked in, Pierrot sits down on the floor next to your bed. With his back facing the balcony, he blocks the moonlight from hitting your face. He's like a silent sentinel as he notes every detail on your face.

The softness of your lashes, the slight pout of your lips, and even the way your eyebrows relax as you fall deeper into rem.

He watches you the whole time taking note of every twitch and sound you make. He wishes you could always look this peaceful. He remembers earlier that day when you looked so scared of him.

The smile that was once on his face slowly leaves as he thinks about todays events. He thinks about how you saved him earlier today. You always do that, don't you?

You just can't help saving people even if it puts you in danger. You've always been so selfless and brave. His beautiful little soulmate.

He touches your face, smoothing his clawed hand across your cheek. Making sure not to cut you with his sharp claws. He wants to take you now.

But he knows it's not the right time. You don't seem to recognize him as your soulmate yet.

But you will in time. Even if he and the others have to remind you where you truly belong.

"My lady please don't save those who are unworthy of your kindness. Your life is worth so much more than just allowing others to harm you. I don't know if I can take seeing you hurt again." He whispers to you knowing that you can't hear him. Still he hopes you subconsciously take his words to heart.

"You're kind they don't deserve you..." He leans in almost touching your lips. "I know you'd say it's selfish but only show your beauty to us. Only show your sweet flesh to us."

"You're one of the few who actually saw me and still held out your hand. Even if it trembled, you still wanted to help." He continues his soft voice breaking as he lays his heart out to your sleeping form. "So please don't save me next time. Let me protect you. Let me save you. I love you too much to lose you th-"

"I agree." A soft voice whispers from the closet.

A shadow falls over Pierrot before he can react. The soft sound of the closet door opening makes him still go as a rock. He slowly turns his head ready to defend his lady.

He growls a low territorial growl. Pierrot will protect his lady just like she did for him earlier. But when he catches a familiar scent, he stops growling.

He perks up in joy at the person coming into the room from the dark closet. They put their finger to their lips before gesturing for him to go outside.

Pierrot nods, giving you a little peck on the lips before standing to leave.

The figure in from the balcony walks over to your sleeping form.

They look you over before moving some hair out of your face. Leaning down, they kiss you like how Pierrot did earlier.

Unlike Pierrot, they flick their tongue out, licking your lips tasting you. They pull away to leave as well. Before they close the balcony, they look back at your sleeping form.

They smirk, "See you soon, darling guest." With one last glance, they close the sliding door disappearing into the night.

· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·

The next morning, you wake up with a strange taste in your mouth. It tastes like baked strawberry sweets and blood...

Yep, Pierrot definitely watched you sleep last night and a little more.

On the bright side, you've never felt more relaxed in your life. Today is starting out as a good one.

Wiping your mouth, you head to the bathroom to brush your teeth. While brushing, you go over the plan to get rid of the tickets. Just roll down the widow in Carol's car and let the wind do the rest. You'll have to make sure the cyan ticket gets left at home. There's no way you're letting go of that one.

Your no regular wattpad mc. You refuse to follow the script and nothing can stop you!

· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·

Nothing can stop you, you said. You're not like other girls, you said.

That's what you thought, but it seems the wattpad gods heard you mocking them. Cause now here you and Carol were looking at her engine.

Or what's left of it to be more accurate.

As you were making breakfast Carol went out to get the mail. That's when you heard a scream and rushed to the window to find Carol's car almost completely vandalized.

"WHY ME! WHY ME!" Carol screams while throwing her hands in the air.

Multiple screws had been taken out, leading to random bits and parts scattered everywhere on the pavement. The worst part was that her starter was nowhere to be found.

The pavement was where you found Carol sprawled out. She had a good reason to cry, considering how hard she worked to buy the car. It was an old Honda someone sold to her on Craig's list.

Her first car and now her first heartbreak.

I walk over to my friend, hugging her. "It's gonna be okay, Carol. we'll call boss he knows a bit about cars. Maybe he'll be able to help."

Carol hugged you back, still crying her eyes out. You patted her head, shushing her as she sobbed. "It'll be okay. We will figure this out." You tell her knowing this isn't just a minor setback. Clearly, someone did this intentionally.

You may be dumb but you're not stupid.

The only question is, who did this? You highly doubted Pierrot was responsible. He might do it if given direction from someone else. But, as far as you know, the only other member who knows about you is Doctor.

Could the Doctor have told Pierrot to do this. It's likely, but how would they know to take the cars starter. You remember, out of all the members, Pierrot can't drive, so it's unlikely he'd know about cars. You're unsure about Doctor, but he doesn't seem like the type to like cars that much.

Ticket Taker comes to your mind, but you quickly rule him out. Even if Carol told him about you, which is probably what got her 2 tickets instead of one. He would not know that you're his soulmate unless Pierrot told him about you. It's a possible Pierrot could've told him before he gave the tickets to Carol.

But that seems farfetched, and Ticket Taker never saw you at the cafe.

You sigh.

Either way, it doesn't matter who did it. Because now you and Carol are effectively stuck in the city. To add to that, now you have to see how much repairing Carol's car is gonna be. You whip out your phone calling your boss who answers after a few rings. Well, there goes your vacation and your plans of getting rid of the tickets.

"MY CAR!" Carol sobbed into your shoulder while balling her eyes out.

Down the street, a figure holding fliers walks away with a big smile on their face. Inside one of the pockets on their uniform, the missing bolts and starter jingle slightly.

· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·

"I don't know if this will cheer you up Carol, but I made you those patchwork jeans you wanted." I hold out my finished product to her. "I even made matching ones for me!" You guester to the jeans you're wearing.

Carol looks at the jeans, her eyes red and puffy from crying. Despite still being upset, she puts on a small smile, taking the jeans. She looks at them briefly before she bursts out crying again.

Well, you tried......

· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·

Authors note: Poor Carol, she lost her car. Mc is really trying her best. Unfortunately, even her best can't save her from destiny. The wattpad gods, nor truck-kun are merciful.

Though I do wonder which circus member is watching her besides dear Pierrot? I worry it may be too obvious. I tried to keep it vague, but I don't know. Whoever gets it right, I'll give you a special shout out in the chapter they're revealed in.

Maybe you'll find out in the next chapter or not it depends on how long I want the chapters to be.

That will also be the deciding factor on when I post this story to ao3. Since I only use my phone to type for now I'm unsure if this story will translate well to ao3. If anyone has any knowledge on this please tell me.

Also would anyone like me to post art with the chapters? It will take me longer to make chapters but it could add to the story.

Tags: @tmrs-basilisk @8-sinner-8 @sum1ko @snowfire0313 @jellypotato66 @noclue-0

[losttraindreams]

That one time I got isekaied into a freak circus soulmate au: Chapter 3: Circus Trip no Road Trip

The freak circus does not belong to me, nor do any of the characters shown. Pierrot and any other characters mentioned belong to nekoboydreams here on tumblr. This is a polycircus fanfiction where you end up with all the clowns. Mc is all the circus members soulmate.

Warnings: Pierrot, stalking, breaking and entering and noncon kissing (just kissing nothing else)

Also if there are any spelling errors please tell me I have no beta reader besides myself. :3

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Carol got home right as you were in the middle of making her burger. You had just put the cheese on top when you hear the front door open.

You expect to hear a sigh of a longer than average shift. But much to your surprise, no sigh is heard. Instead, you hear her keys get hanged up next to yours, and footsteps approach the kitchen.

"Hey, bestie...." You trail off clearly guilty as you turn to face her. You expect to see her glaring at you, but instead, she's smiling?

Must've been a good shift.

You have a bad gut feeling about this.

"Carol, why are you smiling?" I turn away from the stove and face her. "I thought you'd be mad." I ask, completely puzzled by her good mood. Her smile grows wider before she puts a finger to her mouth.

"That's a secret, though I am mad at you. I found the perfect way for you to make it up to me!~" She says with a sing-song voice. You watch her reach down into her pants pocket.

Dread fills your stomach. Already knowing about what she might pull out. "TAE DA!" She exclaims like some magician at a party.

In her hand are two tickets, one pink and the other a dull brown? You've never seen the other one before. Ticket Taker only offers ONE ticket, not two.

Is this change because of you not following the games script. That could be why you ran into the Doctor earlier, too. But why is the other ticket brown? Was the normal ticket always brown?

You try to remember the color of the regular admissions ticket, but nothing comes to mind. All you remember is that the pink ticket leads to the bad end where you get kidnapped. You also remember the red one is Pierrots ticket and the green is Harlequins. Dang, you should've read the game creators tumblr more often!

As you contemplate just how screwed you and Carol were, smoke begins to fill the apartment.

The burgers!

The audible blare of the smoke alarm goes off as you take the charred patties off the heat. Carol rushes to open up a window.

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It's times like this you really wish she was here. She always knew what to do. Unfortunately, you don't have her here to convince Carol that going to the circus is a bad idea.

You also have no logical explanation to tell Carol why you both shouldn't go to the circus. You can't just say "Carol the circus is full of a bunch of human eating monsters! They will turn you into a mindless puppet and eat you once you're not useful anymore!"

What a pickle you found yourself in.

That's how you found yourself sitting silently at the kitchen table with Carol eating your slightly burnt burgers. Funnily enough, even charred, they still taste amazing.

"So how did you get those tickets? Did you really spend all your vacation money on 2 expensive tickets?" I ask her despite knowing the answer.

You know she met the Ticket Taker, and for some reason, he gave her a pink ticket, and what you assume is a regular admission ticket. Though you wonder why brown of all colors.

"Like I said before that's a secret. But you don't have to worry I spent no money on these." She says a big fat grin on her face. "But since I did work someone's shift I expect that tomorrow night we will go to the circus." Her smile turns devious. Out of everyone Carol is very aware of your proclaimed fear of clowns.

Little does she and everyone else know it's not a real fear of clowns. More so, you've been scared of running into any clowns on the off chance they're one of your soulmates. But you can't tell people that, so you simply say you have coulrophobia instead.

You cross your arms "But that will ruin our whole itinerary!" You had meticulously planned this vacation and budgeted everything. From what motels you'll both stay at to what attractions and sites you'll go to on each day.

Carol shrugs "Well you should've thought about that before I had to bus extra tables." Dang it Carol you must really wanna get kidnapped. "Plus it's way more fun doing spontaneous trips! Me and my brother used to do those all the time." She says before finishing her burger. She gets up leaving to go to her room.

"Wait what about tomorrow the circus doesn't open till sun down?!" You call after her your own burger long forgotten. She pokes her head out "We can finally visit that boardwalk at the edge of town. You've always wanted to go there right?" She winks at you before disappearing into her room.

You hear her door close and allow your face to plant on the table.

That was true but now you'll have to make sure Carol doesn't spend too much on carnival games. But even worse than that you'll have to go see your soulmates.

Neither Pierrot nor the doctor mentioned being soulmates with you. You're hoping that just not acknowledging your soulmarks glowing will be enough. It's been cold recently, so maybe you can get away with wearing gloves and a scarf.

You groan getting up to clean the dishes and put away the ones that are dry from yesterday. After you finish you notice Carol left the tickets on the table.

Picking them up, you take a closer look at the brown ticket. The pink one is still the same pink and gold with Columbina's wing symbol on it. Meanwhile, the brown ticket has all the circus members symbols on it in gold. They form a little arch over the words "The Freak Circus Ticket."

You don't remember the regular admission ticket being described in the game. But for some reason, the brown seems wrong. You can't put your finger on it, but you could've sworn the admission ticket was a different color.

You don't have time to dwell on it, you have a pair of jeans to finish. Going to your room, you make sure to grab the 2 tickets intending to give the Ticket Taker the cyan and brown ones.

You'll still keep the pink one, though, as a souvenir. You're a fan of the game still at heart, and while you can't get the Pierrot plushie anymore, at least you can get a real ticket.

Walking into your room, you place the tickets in your bag with the cyan one. Taking out your night clothes, you plan to shower and change in the bathroom.

You don't usually change in your bathroom, but you know Pierrot is watching you. The last thing you want to do is give him a free show. You do not wanna tempt that tiger.

While in the shower you contemplate just destroying the tickets. Yeah Carol will be pissed but it's for the greater good. But at the same time something in you wants to go to the circus.

You've heard that over time, soulmates will begin to feel an extreme need to be around each other. It's why most spend their lives with their soulmates. Soul scientists describe this as the pull. After being around your soulmates for enough time, you begin to crave being around them and will feel an unexplainable calm around them.

That's why you've been trying to stay away from them all day. If you really are feeling the pull already, then you have to leave tomorrow.

New plan! While in the car on the way to the boardwalk, you'll just "accidentally" let the circus tickets fly out the window. Problem solved, and after the boardwalk to cheer Carol up, you'll start your trip!

Confident in your plan, you get out of the shower and continue your nightly routine. After putting on your pajamas, you step into your room to find your balcony door slightly ajar.

Someone's in your room.

You close your balcony and briefly Glace at Pierrots soulmark on your hand. But much to your confusion it's not glowing.

Did he come in and just leave? On night 1, after MC saves Pierrot, he breaks into their room. But you'd know if Pierrot was in your room because of your soulmark glowing.

But now that you think about it your soulmark didn't glow when you were in the shower either.

If Pierrot is not in your room... then who is?

You look around, not finding anything out of the ordinary. You notice nothing out of place as your eyes scan the empty bedroom. Your notebook is on your desk, and so is your sewing machine. The tickets on your nightstand are still there as well, and all the plushies are correctly placed in the corner.

Nothing has been moved.

You glace at your closet the door closed like you left it. You get a feeling but quickly brush it off since Pierrots mark isnt glowing. You assume he's outside somewhere he's stayed just out of range to make it glow so far.

but no evidence of someone hiding in your room. Maybe you're just being overly paranoid and he really did just come in and leave.

Shaking your head you grab the patchwork jeans and crack open your energy drink. With your hand sewing kit and all the remaining patches your ready. Let's get to work!

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A tall figure sneaks into your room at around 4 am. He thought you'd never fall asleep. Though the determined look on your face was cute, he was looking forward to watching you sleep again.

He finds you sprawled out on the bed the finished jeans grasped in your arms. He wishes it was him instead of those jeans in your arm. An empty energy drink can lays on the covers next to you.

He smiles at how cute you look sleeping. His lady is the most adorable when she sleeps. He throws away the empty can and begins to slowly move you.

Starting with taking the jeans from you he places them on the back of your desk chair. He takes some of your blankets and as gently as possible moves you off them onto your mattress.

Luckily for him, you had an energy drink crash, and now you're in a deep sleep. Once you're tucked in, Pierrot sits down on the floor next to your bed. With his back facing the balcony, he blocks the moonlight from hitting your face. He's like a silent sentinel as he notes every detail on your face.

The softness of your lashes, the slight pout of your lips, and even the way your eyebrows relax as you fall deeper into rem.

He watches you the whole time taking note of every twitch and sound you make. He wishes you could always look this peaceful. He remembers earlier that day when you looked so scared of him.

The smile that was once on his face slowly leaves as he thinks about todays events. He thinks about how you saved him earlier today. You always do that, don't you?

You just can't help saving people even if it puts you in danger. You've always been so selfless and brave. His beautiful little soulmate.

He touches your face, smoothing his clawed hand across your cheek. Making sure not to cut you with his sharp claws. He wants to take you now.

But he knows it's not the right time. You don't seem to recognize him as your soulmate yet.

But you will in time. Even if he and the others have to remind you where you truly belong.

"My lady please don't save those who are unworthy of your kindness. Your life is worth so much more than just allowing others to harm you. I don't know if I can take seeing you hurt again." He whispers to you knowing that you can't hear him. Still he hopes you subconsciously take his words to heart.

"You're kind they don't deserve you..." He leans in almost touching your lips. "I know you'd say it's selfish but only show your beauty to us. Only show your sweet flesh to us."

"You're one of the few who actually saw me and still held out your hand. Even if it trembled, you still wanted to help." He continues his soft voice breaking as he lays his heart out to your sleeping form. "So please don't save me next time. Let me protect you. Let me save you. I love you too much to lose you th-"

"I agree." A soft voice whispers from the closet.

A shadow falls over Pierrot before he can react. The soft sound of the closet door opening makes him still go as a rock. He slowly turns his head ready to defend his lady.

He growls a low territorial growl. Pierrot will protect his lady just like she did for him earlier. But when he catches a familiar scent, he stops growling.

He perks up in joy at the person coming into the room from the dark closet. They put their finger to their lips before gesturing for him to go outside.

Pierrot nods, giving you a little peck on the lips before standing to leave.

The figure in from the balcony walks over to your sleeping form.

They look you over before moving some hair out of your face. Leaning down, they kiss you like how Pierrot did earlier.

Unlike Pierrot, they flick their tongue out, licking your lips tasting you. They pull away to leave as well. Before they close the balcony, they look back at your sleeping form.

They smirk, "See you soon, darling guest." With one last glance, they close the sliding door disappearing into the night.

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The next morning, you wake up with a strange taste in your mouth. It tastes like baked strawberry sweets and blood...

Yep, Pierrot definitely watched you sleep last night and a little more.

On the bright side, you've never felt more relaxed in your life. Today is starting out as a good one.

Wiping your mouth, you head to the bathroom to brush your teeth. While brushing, you go over the plan to get rid of the tickets. Just roll down the widow in Carol's car and let the wind do the rest. You'll have to make sure the cyan ticket gets left at home. There's no way you're letting go of that one.

Your no regular wattpad mc. You refuse to follow the script and nothing can stop you!

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Nothing can stop you, you said. You're not like other girls, you said.

That's what you thought, but it seems the wattpad gods heard you mocking them. Cause now here you and Carol were looking at her engine.

Or what's left of it to be more accurate.

As you were making breakfast Carol went out to get the mail. That's when you heard a scream and rushed to the window to find Carol's car almost completely vandalized.

"WHY ME! WHY ME!" Carol screams while throwing her hands in the air.

Multiple screws had been taken out, leading to random bits and parts scattered everywhere on the pavement. The worst part was that her starter was nowhere to be found.

The pavement was where you found Carol sprawled out. She had a good reason to cry, considering how hard she worked to buy the car. It was an old Honda someone sold to her on Craig's list.

Her first car and now her first heartbreak.

I walk over to my friend, hugging her. "It's gonna be okay, Carol. we'll call boss he knows a bit about cars. Maybe he'll be able to help."

Carol hugged you back, still crying her eyes out. You patted her head, shushing her as she sobbed. "It'll be okay. We will figure this out." You tell her knowing this isn't just a minor setback. Clearly, someone did this intentionally.

You may be dumb but you're not stupid.

The only question is, who did this? You highly doubted Pierrot was responsible. He might do it if given direction from someone else. But, as far as you know, the only other member who knows about you is Doctor.

Could the Doctor have told Pierrot to do this. It's likely, but how would they know to take the cars starter. You remember, out of all the members, Pierrot can't drive, so it's unlikely he'd know about cars. You're unsure about Doctor, but he doesn't seem like the type to like cars that much.

Ticket Taker comes to your mind, but you quickly rule him out. Even if Carol told him about you, which is probably what got her 2 tickets instead of one. He would not know that you're his soulmate unless Pierrot told him about you. It's a possible Pierrot could've told him before he gave the tickets to Carol.

But that seems farfetched, and Ticket Taker never saw you at the cafe.

You sigh.

Either way, it doesn't matter who did it. Because now you and Carol are effectively stuck in the city. To add to that, now you have to see how much repairing Carol's car is gonna be. You whip out your phone calling your boss who answers after a few rings. Well, there goes your vacation and your plans of getting rid of the tickets.

"MY CAR!" Carol sobbed into your shoulder while balling her eyes out.

Down the street, a figure holding fliers walks away with a big smile on their face. Inside one of the pockets on their uniform, the missing bolts and starter jingle slightly.

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"I don't know if this will cheer you up Carol, but I made you those patchwork jeans you wanted." I hold out my finished product to her. "I even made matching ones for me!" You guester to the jeans you're wearing.

Carol looks at the jeans, her eyes red and puffy from crying. Despite still being upset, she puts on a small smile, taking the jeans. She looks at them briefly before she bursts out crying again.

Well, you tried......

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Authors note: Poor Carol, she lost her car. Mc is really trying her best. Unfortunately, even her best can't save her from destiny. The wattpad gods, nor truck-kun are merciful.

Though I do wonder which circus member is watching her besides dear Pierrot? I worry it may be too obvious. I tried to keep it vague, but I don't know. Whoever gets it right, I'll give you a special shout out in the chapter they're revealed in.

Maybe you'll find out in the next chapter or not it depends on how long I want the chapters to be.

That will also be the deciding factor on when I post this story to ao3. Since I only use my phone to type for now I'm unsure if this story will translate well to ao3. If anyone has any knowledge on this please tell me.

Also would anyone like me to post art with the chapters? It will take me longer to make chapters but it could add to the story.

Tags: @tmrs-basilisk @8-sinner-8 @sum1ko @snowfire0313 @jellypotato66 @noclue-0

[applinsandoranges]

HAPPY VALENTINE'S DAY.

As I write mainly romance, I couldn't let the day pass without another silly little story of our favorite freckled menace enjoying the day in the most awkward way possible.

I'll be back to my regularly scheduled ask replies soon, but for now, please enjoy a soft, sweet, silly story about two idiots in love.

Summary: When a love letter written purely for therapeutic purposes - because she had to be temporarily insane to love Sebastian Sallow - goes missing somewhere in the castle, it takes a whole team to try and find it before the wrong person does.

Word count ~3100

Burn After Reading

Romantics were the ones who sighed wistfully at poetry readings, who blushed at the sight of a well-crafted love letter, who spent Valentine’s Day clutching their hearts like some love-struck imbecile from an old novel.

She was not a romantic.

And yet, there she was.

Sitting in the Great Hall, not eating her breakfast, not reading her book, but instead watching - because everywhere she looked, it was there.

The soft, intimate moments she pretended not to care about. The day before Valentine's Day.

A Hufflepuff girl tucking a chocolate frog into her boyfriend’s pocket with a whispered, “For later.”

A Ravenclaw scribbling something in the margins of a letter, smiling absently to herself before sealing it with a wax stamp and charming it to flutter across the vast room.

A Gryffindor dramatically dropping to one knee in front of a giggling girl, presenting a questionably-made bouquet of half-wilted wildflowers to a simpering, blushing witch.

And herself?

Eating dry toast and definitely not pining.

“Why do you look like you’ve swallowed a lemon?”

She blinked, snapping out of it, and turned to see Poppy Sweeting watching her far too closely from across the table, arms folded neatly on the wood.

“I don’t.” She said flatly, reaching for her tea.

Poppy hummed in a way that implied otherwise. “You’re staring at people.”

She tore off a piece of toast and shoved it into her mouth, unladylike and unbothered. “I’m observing.”

Poppy snorted. “Observing what?”

She could lie. Say she was disgusted by all the romance, say that it was silly, useless, pointless.

Or…

She could tell the truth.

“…Nothing.” She muttered instead, stuffing the rest of the toast in her mouth before she could say anything else.

Evasion was neither truth nor lie, and thus, an acceptable third option. Poppy narrowed her eyes, tapping her fingers against the table. Then, far too casual-

“This wouldn’t happen to be about a certain freckled menace, would it?”

She choked on her toast.

Poppy beamed.

“It is about him, isn’t it?”

Still coughing, she reached for her tea and muttered, “It is not.”

Poppy, clearly unconvinced, simply leaned forward and propped her chin on her hand. “Right. So, when you were observing just now, you definitely weren’t actually sulking over the fact that you spend every waking moment with a certain Slytherin, except, glaringly, on the one day of the year you'd most prefer?”

She froze.

Because.

Well.

That was entirely too true.

It wasn’t that she was sulking over not getting a Valentine in general. It was that, if she ever were to get one, she already knew exactly who she’d want it from. Except Sebastian Sallow had made precisely zero mention of doing anything even platonic on the impending day from cupid-pink hell.

And that thought?

That thought was dangerous.

Because Sebastian was not an option in the first place.

Sebastian was Sebastian - her best friend, her partner in literal crime, her closest companion, the one she could turn to for anything and everything.

And he was not hers.

He flirted with everyone. He charmed his way through life. He tossed out compliments like it was second nature, and none of it meant anything.

She knew that.

She did.

And yet…

The unspoken longing was starting to eat at her, and that unrequited feeling stung a little more than she cared to admit.

“…You should write him a letter.”

She blinked. “I should what?”

Poppy shrugged. “Write it all out. Not to give to him, just… to get it off your chest.”

“That’s ridiculous.” She scowled, heat creeping up to her cheeks at the mere notion.

“It’s practical.” Poppy gave her a knowing look. “You’ve been miserable for ages over this. It's not hard to see. Just write it all down, and then decide if you want to say it to him for real.”

She opened her mouth to argue, to shut it down, to dismiss it entirely…

But then, at that exact moment -

Sebastian strolled past, laughing about something with Ominis, his robes ruffled from sleep, his hair a careless, tousled mess, looking infuriatingly attractive in that effortless way of his…

And she sighed, smitten.

“…Fine.”

-

The letter was not supposed to be good.

It was just supposed to be words on a page. A venting session. A way to untangle her own thoughts.

But when she finally lifted her quill from the parchment, she realized, with horror, that she had somehow written the most disgustingly heartfelt confession imaginable.

The worst part?

She meant every word.

She stared at it, stomach twisting, and let out a groan of regret.

Why did she listen to Poppy?

Why did she ever think this was a good idea?

This thing needed to be burned. Immediately.

She folded it aggressively, shoved it into her school satchel, and made a mental note to destroy it later.

And then promptly forgot about it.

Because that night, she was half-asleep, shoving her books into her bag without a second thought, not realizing that the letter had slipped from its hiding place and fallen, unnoticed, to the castle floor.

Waiting.

For the wrong person to find it.

She realized far too late that the letter was missing. She had spent the morning of the damned frilly holiday blissfully unaware, going about her day as normal, utterly oblivious to the unforgivable mistake she had made.

It wasn’t until midday, when she went to retrieve her Transfiguration notes, that she noticed the folded parchment was gone.

Her heart plummeted.

She froze, still as stone, fingers digging through her satchel in mounting horror, books and parchment scattered on the table as she searched, and searched, and searched…

And found nothing.

The letter - the one letter she could not afford to lose - was gone.

Panic rushed through her, overwhelming, as she replayed every moment from the night before.

She had written it.

Folded it.

Shoved it into her satchel.

And then - what? Had it fallen out? Had someone taken it? Was it currently out there, somewhere in the castle, waiting to ruin her life?

Her stomach rolled violently.

She had to find it.

Step One: Enlist Every Trustworthy Person She Knows

This was not a one-person job.

She swallowed her pride, sought out her closest friends in each house, and told them the full, unfiltered truth - with the strict demand that they never speak of it again once the letter was found.

Natty was the first to respond, the voice of reason among the chaos.

“We should retrace your steps.” She suggested, calm and methodical as ever. “Where were you last night?”

She winced. “I don’t know. Everywhere?”

Natty sighed.

Poppy, hands clasped over her mouth in barely contained amusement, offered absolutely no helpful input whatsoever. Sick amusement from this whole debacle, that one got.

Garreth Weasley, on the other hand, lit up like Christmas had come early.

“This is brilliant!” He declared, throwing an arm around her shoulders. “Thought today was going to be dull. I'll have you to thank for the entertainment!”

She shoved him off, scowling. “Garreth, I will brew you into a potion.”

Garreth held up his hands, mockingly placating. “Our leading lady is so high-strung.”

Natty pinched the bridge of her nose. “Focus.”

“Right, right.” Garreth sobering immediately, turning back with mock solemnity. “If I were your missing letter, where would I be?”

“It was in my bag last night, which means it could have fallen out anywhere between the common room and class this morning.”

Poppy perked up. “And you went outside to read before breakfast, didn’t you?”

She groaned. “Right. So now it could be anywhere in the entire castle or the bloody courtyard.”

They scattered.

Natty took the main halls. Poppy went to check the greenhouses. Garreth, horrifyingly, volunteered to go search the Great Hall, which she immediately regretted allowing, because if he so much as breathed a word of this to anyone, she was going to have to change schools.

Meanwhile, she scoured the rest of the castle.

She checked every hallway, every staircase, every possible place it could have fallen. She combed the courtyard, nearly tore apart the Undercroft, and spent far too long peeking under random benches, earning more than a few odd looks from passing students.

And yet…

Nothing.

By late afternoon, her nerves were shot.

The longer the letter was missing, the worse her paranoia became.

What if someone already had it?

What if it had been read aloud to a group of cackling classmates?

What if Peeves found it?

What if it had made its way to the Slytherin common room?

She groaned into her hands.

This was hell.

And then, as if fate had decided she had suffered enough, she saw it.

Or, at least, she thought she did.

A glimpse of parchment, lying half-hidden in the empty courtyard, crumpled and slightly smudged with dirt.

Her heart leapt. She moved immediately, nearly tripping over herself, relief flooding her system as she reached for it -

Only for another hand to grab it first.

Her stomach dropped.

Because, of course.

Of course.

It was Sebastian.

Sebastian, standing just a few feet away, held the letter in his hands, tilting his head curiously.

And her?

She panicked.

“Ah - oh, that’s not important. Just some old parchment -” She lunged, making a hasty attempt to snatch it back.

Sebastian sidestepped effortlessly, lifting the letter out of reach.

“Now, now!” He teased, grinning. “No need to be so hasty. I just want to see what’s got you racing around the castle all day like a headless diricawl.”

He had noticed?

Of course he had.

Sebastian watched her too closely, too often.

He had definitely noticed.

She swallowed hard, keeping her voice steady. “Sebastian, it’s really nothing.”

Sebastian raised an eyebrow. “So if I read it aloud right now, you wouldn’t mind?”

Her eyes went wide.

Sebastian grinned.

“Oh, Merlin.” He said, delighted. “It is something, isn’t it?”

Her heart pounded. “Sebastian -”

But he was already unfolding the letter.

Already reading the first lines.

And already…

Smirking.

-

Sebastian had every intention of teasing.

He had caught her red-handed, after all - had seen her darting around the castle like a witch possessed, muttering under her breath, frantically scouring every inch of Hogwarts like a niffler who had misplaced her cache.

She had been so focused, so desperate that he had spent the entire day trying - and failing - to get her attention. She had brushed him off in the corridors, ignored him at lunch, even physically dodged him on the way to Defense Against the Dark Arts, which was a new level of avoidance, even for her.

And now, at long last, he finally had the answer to why.

So, of course, when he picked up the crumpled parchment in the courtyard and saw her entire soul drain from her face, he couldn’t help himself.

“Ah. So this is what’s had you so worked up?” He mused, turning the letter over in his hands, pretending to inspect it. “I must say, I’m intrigued.”

She lunged again.

“Sebastian!”

“I knew you were up to something,” he said, deliberately casual, letting his thumb skim the edge of the folded parchment. “But I must admit, I wasn’t expecting it to be a secret love letter.”

Her entire body seized.

Sebastian beamed.

“Is it really?” He laughed, delighted. “It is a love letter.”

She groaned, dragging a hand down her face. “Sebastian. Give. It. Back.”

Sebastian tutted, clicking his tongue. “Now, now. I think it’s only fair I take a little peek, don’t you? Considering how rudely you’ve been ignoring me all day.”

Sebastian cleared his throat and unfolded it with great circumstance, smirking as he began to read aloud, voice deliberately dramatic.

“To the most insufferable, reckless, and endlessly arrogant prick I have ever met…”

He chuckled. “Oh, this is already off to an excellent start.”

She whimpered, burying her face in her hands.

Sebastian continued.

"You drive me to madness on a daily basis. I have never met someone more infuriatingly smug, more entirely frustrating -"

He snorted. “Flatter him more, love.”

"- and yet somehow, impossibly, against all logic and reason -"

Sebastian paused.

His grin faltered.

Because suddenly, it wasn’t funny anymore.

Sebastian’s breath caught as he took in the next lines, the way the handwriting shifted slightly, the way her usual slanted script had softened, like she had hesitated before writing it.

"I find myself drawn to you anyway, Sebastian."

Sebastian’s grip on the parchment tightened.

"I don’t know when it started, whether it was the first time you shielded me in a duel, or the hundredth time you made me laugh when I wanted to scream, or maybe it was always there, just in our day-to-day."

Sebastian swallowed.

"All I know is that I look for you before anyone else. That I miss you before you’re even gone. That the idea of you with someone else makes my stomach twist in ways I don’t want to acknowledge."

A slow, creeping warmth spread up Sebastian’s neck, his freckled face heating.

"I don’t know if I’ll ever say this aloud. Maybe this is the only time I’ll ever admit it, even to myself. But it’s there, no matter how much I try to ignore it. I am yours, and you don’t even know it."

Sebastian’s breath hitched.

He didn’t even realize he had stopped reading.

Didn’t realize he had gone completely still.

Didn’t realize she had been watching him the entire time, cheeks red, expression somewhere between horrified and resigned.

He felt her eyes on him, felt the weight of her gaze, the unspoken tension between them.

And suddenly -

Everything was different.

-

She was dying.

Actually, literally, physically dying.

Sebastian was silent.

And not in his usual, plotting, scheming way.

No.

Sebastian was silent in the way that meant his brilliant brain hadn't been able to quite wrap around the horrific monstrosity of emotional vomit which had been inflicted upon him.

Which was, frankly, more terrifying than anything else.

He just stood there, holding the letter, staring at it like it contained the secrets of the universe.

And she herself who had spent the entire day terrified of this exact moment, who had been dreading what his reaction would be, suddenly realized she had no idea what to do now that the very worst had actually happened.

She cleared her throat, shifting awkwardly. “I… um. That’s…”

Sebastian looked up.

Their eyes met.

Her stomach flipped.

And then -

Sebastian laughed.

It wasn’t his usual cocky, amused laugh.

It was nervous, breathless, and way too full of emotions he clearly didn’t know how to process.

“Oh.” He said, voice slightly unsteady. “So, um. That’s - wow.”

She groaned, burying her face in her hands again. “Sebastian…”

“No, no, wait -” He laughed again, more to himself than anything, running a hand through his hair, looking thoroughly unmoored. “You… Merlin! You wrote me a love letter.”

She winced. “Shut up.”

“I mean, really!” He huffed out another disbelieving laugh, rubbing the back of his neck. “You actually - you wrote me a love letter.”

She let out a strangled noise. “So we've determined! Now hurry it along so I can put in for my transfer to Durmstrang.”

Sebastian smirked, and for a brief, horrifying moment, she thought he was going to tease her , but then he glanced down at the letter again, eyes flicking over the last lines, and his smirk softened.

He hesitated.

Then, before she could stop him…

He reached into his pocket and pulled out something small and delicate.

A sprig of dittany, perfectly preserved, fastened to a silver hair clip.

And offered it to her.

Sebastian’s ears went pink as she stared blankly at it.

“I, um…” He cleared his throat. “It’s not - it’s not much. But I know how much you like dittany, so I thought…” He stopped himself, sighing in a bid to regain composure. “Look, I just - I didn’t know how to say it, either.”

Her heart stumbled and stopped.

Sebastian rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly, glancing away, looking suddenly uncharacteristically shy. “But if you’re mine, then I’m yours, too.”

Warmth flooded her, and then, before she could second-guess herself, she leaned in and kissed him in a moment of absolute insanity.

It was clumsy, awkward, entirely too soft.

They smiled against each other’s lips.

And for the first time all day, she was glad she lost the letter.

The kiss was nothing like the ones from the romance novels she squirreled away in her dorm. There was no perfectly choreographed moment of breathtaking passion, no swooning or instinctual spark.

It was clumsy - a little too eager, a little too uncertain, the way all first kisses tend to be.

She leaned in too quickly, and Sebastian, in his attempt to meet her halfway, nearly bumped their teeth together, and they pulled away just as swiftly.

They both froze for a half-second, faces inches apart, before quiet, nervous laughter bubbled up between them.

Sebastian let out a soft, breathless chuckle, shaking his head as his forehead brushed against hers. “We’re terrible at this.”

She grinned, biting her lip. “Truly awful.”

Sebastian hummed, still holding the dittany hair clip between them like some ridiculous peace offering.

“Maybe we should try again.” He murmured, his voice quieter now, more certain. “I'm a good study, you know.”

Her breath hitched.

Ah, there was the swooning.

And then - slowly this time - she tilted her chin up, closing the space between them once more. Sebastian met her gently, no more rushed movements, no hesitations; just the soft, uncertain press of lips, the quiet warmth of finally, finally knowing. He sighed against her mouth, content, and she felt his hand find her waist, the touch featherlight, like he wasn’t sure if he was allowed to hold her yet.

So she grabbed his wrist and placed it there herself.

Sebastian smiled into the kiss, tilting his head just slightly, deepening it for a lingering moment before pulling away.

She barely had time to catch her breath before he bumped his nose against hers, deliberately this time, teasing, affectionate.

He spoke against her mouth, voice warm and endearingly unsteady, “I think we just got a little better at it.”

She huffed a quiet laugh, her cheeks aching from how hard she was smiling.

“I suppose we’ll have to keep practicing.” She mused.

Sebastian’s grin turned positively wolfish. “You do know how I like to tutor.”

She rolled her eyes, nudging his shoulder, but she didn’t let go of him.

Didn’t step away.

Didn’t pull back.

She just stood there with him, forehead resting against his, her hands still tangled in his robes, his thumb brushing slow circles against her hip.

The lost letter forgotten.

The ridiculous day worth it after all.

And as Sebastian finally shyly tucked the enchanted dittany clip into her hair, she thought…

Maybe she was a romantic, after all.