#Although this one came much more easily than my first idea; it still felt more difficult to write than my Nix Nought Nothing story.

[confetti-cat]

Twelve, Thirteen, and One

Words: 6k

Rating: G

Themes: Friendship, Self-Giving Love

(Written for the Four Loves Fairytale Retelling Challenge over at the @inklings-challenge! A Cinderella retelling feat. curious critters and a lot of friendship.)

When the clock chimes midnight on that third evening, thirteen creatures look to the girl who showed them all kindness.

—

It’s hours after dark, again, and the human girl still sleeps in the ashes.

The mice notice this—though it happens so often that they’ve ceased to pay attention to her. She smells like everything else in the hearth: ashy and overworked, tinged with the faint smell of herbs from the kitchen.

When she moves or shifts in her sleep (uncomfortable sleep—even they can sense the exhaustion in her posture as she sits slumped against the wall, more willing to seep up warmth from the stone than lie cold elsewhere this time of year), they simply scurry around her and continue combing for crumbs and seeds. They’d found a feast of lentils scattered about once, and many other times, the girl had beckoned them softly to her hand, where she’d held a little chunk of brown bread.

Tonight, she has nothing. They don’t mind—though three of them still come to sniff her limp hand where it lies drooped against the side of her tattered dress.

A fourth one places a little clawed hand on the side of her finger, leaning over it to investigate her palm for any sign of food.

When she stirs, it’s to the sensation of a furry brown mouse sitting in her palm.

It can feel the flickering of her muscles as she wakes—feeling slowly returning to her body. To her credit, she cracks her eyes open and merely observes it.

They’re all but tame by now. The Harsh-Mistress and the Shrieking-Girl and the Angry-Girl are to be avoided like the plague never was, but this girl—the Cinder-Girl, they think of her—is gentle and kind.

Even as she shifts a bit and they hear the dull crack of her joints, they’re too busy to mind. Some finding a few buried peas (there were always some peas or lentils still hidden here, if they looked carefully), some giving themselves an impromptu bath to wash off the dust. The one sitting on her hand is doing the latter, fur fluffed up as it scratches one ear and then scrubs tirelessly over its face with both paws.

One looks up from where it’s discovered a stray pea to check her expression.

A warm little smile has crept up her face, weary and dirty and sore as she seems to be. She stays very still in her awkward half-curl against stone, watching the mouse in her hand groom itself. The tender look about her far overwhelms—melts, even—the traces of tension in her tired limbs.

Very slowly, so much so that they really aren’t bothered by it, she raises her spare hand and begins lightly smearing the soot away from her eyes with the back of her wrist.

The mouse in her palm gives her an odd look for the movement, but has discovered her skin is warmer than the cold stone floor or the ash around the dying fire. It pads around in a circle once, then nudges its nose against her calloused skin, settling down for a moment.

The Cinder-Girl has closed her eyes again, and drops her other hand into her lap, slumping further against the wall. Her smile has grown even warmer, if sadder.

They decide she’s quite safe. Very friendly.

—

The old rat makes his rounds at the usual times of night, shuffling through a passage that leads from the ground all the way up to the attic.

When both gold sticks on the clocks’ moonlike faces point upward, there’s a faint chime from the tower-clock downstairs. He used to worry that the sound would rouse the humans. Now, he ignores it and goes about his business.

There’s a great treasury of old straw in the attic. It’s inside a large sack—and while this one doesn’t have corn or wheat like the ones near the kitchen sometimes do, he knows how to chew it open all the same.

The girl sleeps on this sack of straw, though she doesn’t seem to mind what he takes from it. There’s enough more of it to fill a hundred rat’s nests, so he supposes she doesn’t feel the difference.

Tonight, though—perhaps he’s a bit too loud in his chewing and tearing. The girl sits up slowly in bed, and he stiffens, teeth still sunk into a bit of the fabric.

“Oh.” says the girl. She smiles—and though the expression should seem threatening, all pulled mouth-corners and teeth, he feels the gentleness in her posture and wonders at novel thoughts of differing body languages. “Hello again. Do you need more straw?”

He isn’t sure what the sounds mean, but they remind him of the soft whuffles and squeaks of his siblings when they were small. Inquisitive, unafraid. Not direct or confrontational.

She’s seemed safe enough so far—almost like the woman in white and silver-gold he’s seen here sometimes, marveling at his own confidence in her safeness—so he does what signals not-afraid the best to his kind. He glances her over, twitches his whiskers briefly, and goes back to what he was doing.

Some of the straw is too big and rough, some too small and fine. He scratches a bundle out into a pile so he can shuffle through it. It’s true he doesn’t need much, but the chill of winter hasn’t left the world yet.

The girl laughs. The sound is soft and small. It reminds him again of young, friendly, peaceable.

“Take as much as you need,” she whispers. Her movements are unassuming when she reaches for something on the old wooden crate she uses as a bedside table. With something in hand, she leans against the wall her bed is a tunnel’s-width from, and offers him what she holds. “Would you like this?”

He peers at it in the dark, whiskers twitching. His eyesight isn’t the best, so he finds himself drawing closer to sniff at what she has.

It’s a feather. White and curled a bit, like the goose-down he’d once pulled out the corner of a spare pillow long ago. Soft and long, fluffy and warm.

He touches his nose to it—then, with a glance upward at her softly-smiling face, takes it in his teeth.

It makes him look like he has a mustache, and is a bit too big to fit through his hole easily. The girl giggles behind him as he leaves.

—

There’s a human out in the gardens again. Which is strange—this is a place for lizards, maybe birds and certainly bugs. Not for people, in his opinion. She’s not dressed in venomous bright colors like the other humans often are, but neither does she stay to the manicured garden path the way they do.

She doesn’t smell like unnatural rotten roses, either. A welcome change from having to dart for cover at not just the motions, but the stenches that accompany the others that appear from time to time.

This human is behind the border-shubs, beating an ornate rug that hangs over the fence with a home-tied broom. Huge clouds of dust shake from it with each hit, settling in a thin film on the leaves and grass around her.

She stops for a moment to press her palm to her forehead, then turns over her shoulder and coughs into her arm.

When she begins again, it’s with a sharp WHOP.

He jumps a bit, but only on instinct. However—

A few feet from where he settles back atop the sunning-rock, there’s a scuffle and a sharp splash. Then thrashing—waster swashing about with little churns and splishes.

It’s not the way of lizards to think of doing anything when one falls into the water. There were several basins for fish and to catch water off the roof for the garden—they simply had to not fall into them, not drown. There was little recourse for if they did. What could another lizard do, really? Fall in after them? Best to let them try to climb out if they could.

The girl hears the splashing. She stares at the water pot for a moment.

Then, she places her broom carefully on the ground and comes closer.

Closer. His heart speeds up. He skitters to the safety of a plant with low-hanging leaves—

—and then watches as she walks past his hiding place, peers into the basin, and reaches in.

Her hand comes up dripping wet, a very startled lizard still as a statue clinging to her fingers.

“Are you the same one I always find here?” she asks with a chiding little smile. “Or do all of you enjoy swimming?”

When she places her hand on the soft spring grass, the lizard darts off of it and into the underbrush. It doesn’t go as far as it could, though—something about this girl makes both of them want to stand still and wait for what she’ll do next.

The girl just watches it go. She lets out a strange sound—a weary laugh, perhaps—and turns back to her peculiar chore.

—

A song trails through the old house—under the floorboards—through the walls—into the garden, beneath the undergrowth—and lures them out of hiding.

It isn’t an audible song, not like that of the birds in the summer trees or the ashen-girl murmuring beautiful sounds to herself in the lonely hours. This one was silent. Yet, it reached deep down into their souls and said come out, please—the one who helped you needs your help.

It didn’t require any thought, no more than eat or sleep or run did.

In chains of silver and grey, all the mice who hear it converge, twenty-four tiny feet pattering along the wood in the walls. The rat joins them, but they are not afraid.

When they emerge from a hole out into the open air, the soft slip-slap of more feet surround them. Six lizards scurry from the bushes, some gleaming wet as if they’d just escaped the water trough or run through the birdbath themselves.

As a strange little hoard, they approach the kind girl. Beside her is a tall woman wearing white and silver and gold.

The girl—holding a large, round pumpkin—looks surprised to see them here. The woman is smiling.

“Set the pumpkin on the drive,” the woman says, a soft gleam in her eye. “The rest of you, line up, please.”

Bemused, but with a heartbeat fast enough for them to notice, the girl gingerly places the pumpkin on the stone of the drive. It’s natural for them, somehow, to follow—the mice line in pairs in front of it, the rat hops on top of it, and the lizards all stand beside.

“What are they doing?” asks the girl—and there’s curiosity and gingerness in her tone, like she doesn’t believe such a sight is wrong, but is worried it might be.

The older woman laughs kindly, and a feeling like blinking hard comes over the world.

It’s then—then, in that flash of darkness that turns to dazzling light, that something about them changes.

“Oh!” exclaims the girl, and they open their eyes. “Oh! They’re—“

They’re different.

The mice aren’t mice at all—and suddenly they wonder if they ever were, or if it was an odd dream.

They’re horses, steel grey and sleek-haired with with silky brown manes and tails. Their harnesses are ornate and stylish, their hooves polished and dark.

Instead of a rat, there’s a stout man in fine livery, with whiskers dark and smart as ever. He wears a fine cap with a familiar white feather, and the gleam in his eye is surprised.

“Well,” he says, examining his hands and the cuffs of his sleeves, “I suppose I won’t be wanting for adventure now.”

Instead of six lizards, six footmen stand at attention, their ivory jackets shining in the late afternoon sun.

The girl herself is different, though she’s still human—her hair is done up beautifully in the latest fashion, and instead of tattered grey she wears a shimmering dress of lovely pale green, inlaid with a design that only on close inspection is flowers.

“They are under your charge, now,” says the woman in white, stepping back and folding her hands together. “It is your responsibility to return before the clock strikes midnight—when that happens, the magic will be undone. Understood?”

“Yes,” says the girl breathlessly. She stares at them as if she’s been given the most priceless gift in all the world. “Oh, thank you.”

—

The castle is decorated brilliantly. Flowery garlands hang from every parapet, beautiful vines sprawling against walls and over archways as they climb. Dozens of picturesque lanterns hang from the walls, ready to be lit once the sky grows dark.

“It’s been so long since I’ve seen the castle,” the girl says, standing one step out of the carriage and looking so awed she seems happy not to go any further. “Father and I used to drive by it sometimes. But it never looked so lovely as this.”

“Shall we accompany you in, milady?” asks one of the footmen. They’re all nearly identical, though this one has freckles where he once had dark flecks in his scales.

She hesitates for only a moment, looking up at the pinnacles of the castle towers. Then, she shakes her head, and turns to look at them all with a smile like the sun.

“I think I’ll go in myself,” she says. “I’m not sure what is custom. But thank you—thank you so very much.”

And so they watch her go—stepping carefully in her radiant dress that looked lovelier than any queen’s.

Though she was not royal, it seemed there was no doubt in anyone’s minds that she was. The guards posted at the door opened it for her without question.

With a last smile over her shoulder, she stepped inside.

—

He's straightening the horses' trappings for the fifth time when the doors to the castle open, and out hurries a figure. It takes him a moment to recognize her, garbed in rich fabrics and cloaked in shadows, but it's the girl, rushing out to the gilded carriage. A footman steps forward and offers her a hand, which she accepts gratefully as she steps up into the seat.

“Enjoyable evening, milady?” asks the coachman. His whiskers are raised above the corners of his mouth, and his twinkling eyes crinkle at the edges.

“Yes, quite, thank you!” she breathes in a single huff. She smooths her dress the best she can before looking at him with some urgency. “The clock just struck quarter till—will you be able to get us home?”

The gentle woman in white had said they only would remain in such states until midnight. How long was it until the middle of night? What was a quarter? Surely darkness would last for far more hours than it had already—it couldn’t be close. Yet it seemed as though it must be; the princesslike girl in the carriage sounded worried it would catch them at any moment.

“I will do all I can,” he promises, and with a sharp rap of the reins, they’re off at a swift pace.

They arrive with minutes to spare. He knows this because after she helps him down from the carriage (...wait. That should have been the other way around! He makes mental note for next time: it should be him helping her down. If he can manage it. She’s fast), she takes one of those minutes to show him how his new pocketwatch works.

He’s fascinated already. There’s a part of him that wonders if he’ll remember how to tell time when he’s a rat again—or will this, all of this, be forgotten?

The woman in white is there beside the drive, and she’s already smiling. A knowing gleam lights her eye.

“Well, how was the ball?” she asks, as Cinder-Girl turns to face her with the most elated expression. “I hear the prince is looking for fair maidens. Did he speak with you?”

The girl rushes to grasp the woman’s hands in hers, clasping them gratefully and beaming up at her.

“It was lovely! I’ve never seen anything so lovely,” she all but gushes, her smile brighter and broader than they’d ever seen it. “The castle is beautiful; it feels so alive and warm. And yes, I met the Prince—although hush, he certainly isn’t looking for me—he’s so kind. I very much enjoyed speaking with him. He asked me to dance, too; I had as wonderful a time as he seemed to. Thank you! Thank you dearly.”

The woman laughs gently. It isn’t a laugh one would describe as warm, but neither is it cold in the sense some laughs can be—it's soft and beautiful, almost crystalline.

“That’s wonderful. Now, up to bed! You’ve made it before midnight, but your sisters will be returning soon.”

“Yes! Of course,” she replies eagerly—turning to smile gratefully at coachman and stroke the nearest horses on their noses and shoulders, then curtsy to the footmen. “Thank you all, very much. I could not ask for a more lovely company.”

It’s a strange moment when all of their new hearts swell with warmth and affection for this girl—and then the world darkens and lightens so quickly they feel as though they’ve fallen asleep and woken up.

They’re them again—six mice, six lizards, a rat, and a pumpkin. And a tattered gray dress.

“Please, would you let me go again tomorrow? The ball will last three days. I had such a wonderful time.”

“Come,” the woman said simply, “and place the pumpkin beneath the bushes.”

The woman in white led the way back to the house, followed by an air-footed girl and a train of tiny critters. There was another silent song in the air, and they thought perhaps the girl could hear it too: one that said yes—but get to bed!

—

The second evening, when the door of the house thuds shut and the hoofsteps of the family’s carriage fade out of hearing, the rat peeks out of a hole in the kitchen corner to see the Cinder-Girl leap to her feet.

She leans close to the window and watched for more minutes than he quite understands—or maybe he does; it was good to be sure all cats had left before coming out into the open—and then runs with a spring in her step to the back door near the kitchen.

Ever so faintly, like music, the woman’s laughter echoes faintly from outside. Drawn to it like he had been drawn to the silent song, the rat scurries back through the labyrinth of the walls.

When he hurries out onto the lawn, the mice and lizards are already there, looking up at the two humans expectantly. This time, the Cinder-Girl looks at them and smiles broadly.

“Hello, all. So—how do you do it?” she asks the woman. Her eyes shine with eager curiosity. “I had no idea you could do such a thing. How does it work?”

The woman fixes her with a look of fond mock-sternness. “If I were to explain to you the details of how, I’d have to tell you why and whom, and you’d be here long enough to miss the royal ball.” She waves her hands she speaks. “And then you’d be very much in trouble for knowing far more than you ought.”

The rat misses the girl’s response, because the world blinks again—and now all of them once again are different. Limbs are long and slender, paws are hooves with silver shoes or feet in polished boots.

The mouse-horses mouth at their bits as they glance back at the carriage and the assortment of humans now standing by it. The footmen are dressed in deep navy this time, and the girl wears a dress as blue as the summer sky, adorned with brilliant silver stars.

“Remember—“ says the woman, watching fondly as the Cinder-Girl steps into the carriage in a whorl of beautiful silk. “Return before midnight, before the magic disappears.”

“Yes, Godmother,” she calls, voice even more joyful than the previous night. “Thank you!”

—

The castle is just as glorious as before—and the crowd within it has grown. Noblemen and women, royals and servants, and the prince himself all mill about in the grand ballroom.

He’s unsure of the etiquette, but it seems best for her not to enter alone. Once he escorts her in, the coachman bows and watches for a moment—the crowd is hushed again, taken by her beauty and how important they think her to be—and then returns to the carriage outside.

He isn’t required in the ballroom for much of the night—but he tends to the horses and checks his pocketwatch studiously, everything in him wishing to be the best coachman that ever once was a rat.

Perhaps that wouldn’t be hard. He’d raise the bar, then. The best coachman that ever drove for a princess.

Because that was what she was—or, that was what he heard dozens of hushed whispers about once she’d entered the ball. Every noble and royal and servant saw her and deemed her a grand princess nobody knew from a land far away. The prince himself stared at her in a marveling way that indicated he thought no differently.

It was a thing more wondrous than he had practice thinking. If a mouse could become a horse or a rat could become a coachman, couldn’t a kitchen-girl become a princess?

The answer was yes, it seemed—perhaps in more ways than one.

She had rushed out with surprising grace just before midnight. They took off quickly, and she kept looking back toward the castle door, as if worried—but she was smiling.

“Did you know the Prince is very nice?” she asks once they’re safely home, and she’s stepped down (drat) without help again. The woman in white stands on her same place beside the drive, and when Cinder-Girl sees her, she waves with dainty grace that clearly holds a vibrant energy and sheer thankfulness behind it. “I’ve never known what it felt like to be understood. He thinks like I do.”

“How is that?” asks the woman, quirking an amused brow. “And if I might ask, how do you know?”

“Because he mentions things first.” The girl tries to smother some of the wideness of her smile, but can’t quite do so. “And I've shared his thoughts for a long time. That he loves his father, and thinks oranges and citrons are nice for festivities especially, and that he’s always wanted to go out someday and do something new.”

—

The third evening, the clouds were dense and a few droplets of rain splattered the carriage as they arrived.

“Looks like rain, milady,” said the coachman as she disembarked to stand on water-spotted stone. “If it doesn’t blow by, we’ll come for ye at the steps, if it pleases you.”

“Certainly—thank you,” she replies, all gleaming eyes and barely-smothered smiles. How her excitement to come can increase is beyond them—but she seems more so with each night that passes.

She has hardly turned to head for the door when a smattering of rain drizzles heavily on them all. She flinches slightly, already running her palms over the skirt of her dress to rub out the spots of water.

Her golden dress glisters even in the cloudy light, and doesn’t seem to show the spots much. Still, it’s hardy an ideal thing.

“One of you hold the parasol—quick about it, now—and escort her inside,” the coachman says quickly. The nearest footman jumps into action, hop-reaching into the carriage and falling back down with the umbrella in hand, unfolding it as he lands. “Wait about in case she needs anything.”

The parasol is small and not meant for this sort of weather, but it's enough for the moment. The pair of them dash for the door, the horses chomping and stamping behind them until they’re driven beneath the bows of a huge tree.

The footman knows his duty the way a lizard knows to run from danger. He achieves it the same way—by slipping off to become invisible, melting into the many people who stood against the golden walls.

From there, he watches.

It’s so strange to see the way the prince and their princess gravitate to each other. The prince’s attention seems impossible to drag away from her, though not for many’s lack of trying.

Likewise—more so than he would have thought, though perhaps he’s a bit slow in noticing—her focus is wholly on the prince for long minutes at a time.

Her attention is always divided a bit whenever she admires the interior of the castle, the many people and glamorous dresses in the crowd, the vibrant tables of food. It’s all very new to her, and he’s not certain it doesn’t show. But the Prince seems enamored by her delight in everything—if he thinks it odd, he certainly doesn’t let on.

They talk and laugh and sample fine foods and talk to other guests together, then they turn their heads toward where the musicians are starting up and smile softly when they meet each other’s eyes. The Prince offers a hand, which is accepted and clasped gleefully.

Then, they dance.

Their motions are so smooth and light-footed that many of the crowd forgo dancing, because admiring them is more enjoyable. They’re in-sync, back and forth like slow ripples on a pond. They sometimes look around them—but not often, especially compared to how long they gaze at each other with poorly-veiled, elated smiles.

The night whirls on in flares of gold tulle and maroon velvet, ivory, carnelian, and emerald silks, the crowd a nonstop blur of color.

(Color. New to him, that. Improved vision was wonderful.)

The clock strikes eleven, but there’s still time, and he’s fairly certain he won’t be able to convince the girl to leave anytime before midnight draws near.

He was a lizard until very recently. He’s not the best at judging time, yet. Midnight does draw near, but he’s not sure he understands how near.

The clock doesn’t quite say up-up. So he still has time. When the rain drums ceaselessly outside, he darts out and runs in a well-practiced way to find their carriage.

—

Another of the footmen comes in quickly, having been sent in a rush by the coachman, who had tried to keep his pocketwatch dry just a bit too long. He’s soaking wet from the downpour when he steps close enough to get her attention.

She sees him, notices this, and—with a glimmer of recognition and amusement in her eyes—laughs softly into her hand.

ONE—TWO— the clock starts. His heart speeds up terribly, and his skin feels cold. He suddenly craves a sunny rock.

“Um,” he begins awkwardly. Lizards didn’t have much in the way of a vocal language. He bows quickly, and water drips off his face and hat and onto the floor. “The chimes, milady.”

THREE—FOUR—

Perhaps she thought it was only eleven. Her face pales. “Oh.”

FIVE—SIX—

Like a deer, she leaps from the prince’s side and only manages a stumbling, backward stride as she curtsies in an attempt at a polite goodbye.

“Thank you, I must go—“ she says, and then she’s racing alongside the footman as fast as they both can go. The crowd parts for them just enough, amidst loud murmurs of surprise.

SEVEN—EIGHT—

“Wait!” calls the prince, but they don’t. Which hopefully isn’t grounds for arrest, the footman idly thinks.

They burst through the door and out into the open air.

NINE—TEN—

It has been storming. The rain is crashing down in torrents—the walkways and steps are flooded with a firm rush of water.

She steps in a crevice she couldn’t see, the water washes over her feet, and she stumbles, slipping right out of one shoe. There’s noise at the door behind them, so she doesn’t stop or even hesitate. She runs at a hobble and all but dives through the open carriage door. The awaiting footman quickly closes it, and they’re all grasping quickly to their riding-places at the corners of the vehicle.

ELEVEN—

A flash of lightning coats the horses in white, despite the dark water that’s soaked into their coats, and with a crack of the rains and thunder they take off at a swift run.

There’s shouting behind them—the prince—as people run out and call to the departing princess.

TWELVE.

Mist swallows them up, so thick they can’t hear or see the castle, but the horses know the way.

The castle’s clock tower must have been ever-so-slightly fast. (Does magic tell truer time?) Their escape works for a few thundering strides down the invisible, cloud-drenched road—until true midnight strikes a few moments later.

—

She walks home in the rain and fog, following a white pinprick of light she can guess the source of—all the while carrying a hollow pumpkin full of lizards, with an apron pocket full of mice and a rat perched on her shoulder.

It’s quite the walk.

—

The prince makes a declaration so grand that the mice do not understand it. The rat—a bit different now—tells them most things are that way to mice, but he’s glad to explain.

The prince wants to find the girl who wore the golden slipper left on the steps, he relates. He doesn’t want to ask any other to marry him, he loved her company so.

The mice think that’s a bit silly. Concerning, even. What if he does find her? There won’t be anyone to secretly leave seeds in the ashes or sneak them bread crusts when no humans are looking.

The rat thinks they’re being silly and that they’ve become too dependent on handouts. Back in his day, rodents worked for their food. Chewing open a bag of seed was an honest day’s work for its wages.

Besides, he confides, as he looks again out the peep-hole they’ve discovered in the floor trim of the parlor. You’re being self-interested, if you ask me. Don’t you want our princess to find a good mate, and live somewhere spacious and comfortable, free of human-cats, where she’d finally have plenty to eat?

It’s hard to make a mouse look appropriately chastised, but that question comes close. They shuffle back a bit to let him look out at the strange proceedings in the parlor again.

There are many humans there. The Harsh-Mistress stands tall and rigid at the back of one of the parlor chairs, exchanging curt words with a strange man in fine clothes with a funny hat. Shrieking-Girl and Angry-Girl stand close, scoffing and laughing, looking appalled.

Cinder-Girl sits on the chair that’s been pulled to the middle of the room. She extends her foot toward a strange golden object on a large cushion.

The shoe, the rat notes so the mice can follow. They can’t quite see it from here—poor eyesight and all.

Of course, the girl’s foot fits perfectly well into her own shoe. They all saw that coming.

Evidently, the humans did not. There’s absolute uproar.

“There is no possible way she’s the princess you’re looking for!” declares Harsh-Mistress, her voice full of rage. “She’s a kitchen maid. Nothing royal about her.”

“How dare you!” Angry-Girl rages. “Why does it fit you? Why not us?”

“You sneak!” shrieks none other than Shrieking-Girl. “Mother, she snuck to the ball! She must have used magic, somehow! Princes won’t marry sneaks, will they?”

“I think they might,” says a calm voice from the doorway, and the uproar stops immediately.

The Prince steps in. He stares at Cinder-Girl.

She stares back. Her face is still smudged with soot, and her dress is her old one, gray and tattered. The golden slipper gleams on her foot, having fit as only something molded or magic could.

A blush colors her face beneath the ash and she leaps up to do courtesy. “Your Highness.”

The Prince glances at the messenger-man with the slipper-pillow and the funny hat. The man nods seriously.

The Prince blinks at this, as if he wasn’t really asking anything with his look—it’s already clear he recognizes her—and meets Cinder-Girl’s gaze with a smile. It’s the same half-nervous, half-attemptingly-charming smile as he kept giving her at the ball.

He bows to her and offers a hand. (The rat has to push three mice out of the way to maintain his view.)

“It’s my honor,” he assures her. “Would you do me the great honor of accompanying me to the castle? I’d had a question in mind, but it seems there are—“ he glances at Harsh-Mistress, who looks like a very upset rat in a mousetrap. “—situations we might discuss remedying. You’d be a most welcome guest in my father’s house, if you’d be amenable to it?”

It’s all so much more strange and unusual than anything the creatures of the house are used to seeing. They almost don’t hear it, at first—that silent song.

It grows stronger, though, and they turn their heads toward it with an odd hope in their hearts.

—

The ride to the castle is almost as strange as that prior walk back. The reasons for this are such:

One—their princess is riding in their golden carriage alongside the prince, and their chatter and awkward laughter fills the surrounding spring air. They have a good feeling about the prince, now, if they didn’t already. He can certainly take things in stride, and he is no respecter of persons. He seems just as elated to be by her side as he was at the ball, even with the added surprise of where she'd come from.

Two—they have been transformed again, and the woman in white has asked them a single question: Would you choose to stay this way?

The coachman said yes without a second thought. He’d always wanted life to be more fulfilling, he confided—and this seemed a certain path to achieving that.

The footmen might not have said yes, but there was something to be said for recently-acquired cognition. It seemed—strange, to be human, but the thought of turning back into lizards had the odd feeling of being a poor choice. Baffled by this new instinct, they said yes.

The horses, of course, said things like whuff and nyiiiehuhum, grumph. The woman seemed to understand, though. She touched one horse on the nose and told it it would be the castle’s happiest mouse once the carriage reached its destination. The others, it seemed, enjoyed their new stature.

And three—they are heading toward a castle, where they have all been offered a fine place to live. The Prince explains that he doesn’t wish for such a kind girl to live in such conditions anymore. There’s no talk of anyone marrying—just discussions of rooms and favorite foods and of course, you’ll have the finest chicken pie anytime you’d like and I can’t have others make it for me! Lend me the kitchens and I’ll make some for you; I have a very dear recipe. Perhaps you can help. (Followed in short order by a ...Certainly, but I’d—um, I’d embarrass myself trying to cook. You would teach me? and a gentle laugh that brightened the souls of all who could hear it.)

“If you’d be amenable to it,” she replies—and in clear, if surprised, agreement, the Prince truly, warmly laughs.

“Milady,” the coachman calls down to them. “Your Highness. We’re here.”

The castle stands shining amber-gold in the light of the setting sun. It will be the fourth night they’ve come here—the thirteen of them and the one of her—but midnight, they realize, will not break the spell ever again.

One by one, they disembark from the carriage. If it will stay as it is or turn back into a pumpkin, they hadn't thought to ask. There’s so much warmth swelling in their hearts that they don’t think it matters.

The girl, their princess, smiles—a dear, true smile, tentative in the face of a brand new world, but bright with hope—and suddenly, they’re all smiling too.

She steps forward, and they follow. The prince falls into step with her and offers an arm, and their glances at each other are brimming with light as she accepts.

With her arm in the arm of the prince, a small crowd of footmen and the coachman trailing behind, and a single grey mouse on her shoulder, the once-Cinder-Girl walks once again toward the palace door.

[chastiefoul]

stood up pt. 2

characters: alhaitham & ayato

read part one here!

a/n: cannot thank u all of you enough for how well-received the first fic was, hope you can enjoy the second part just as much!! also i hope you can forgive my limited knowledge of flora (and the things i made up) on haitham's part!!

tags: comfort / summary: wallowed in guilt, how will they make it up to you?

Alhaitham

“You look like shit,” Kaveh commented nonchalantly, as if currently watching some character on a show. “Shut it,” Alhaitham replied, having zero intention in dealing with his roomate. It has been a week since he finished his research, but relief didn’t wash over him at all, it was the same day as he had cruelly stood you up, making you wait for three whole hours before he finally came. There were a lot of upsetting feelings he’s been experiencing through for the past few days, but lately he felt giving his past self a good punch for forgetting such an important day. In a way too he had blamed the research that’s been occupying him. Although he quickly perished that thought, since it’d be too easy—blaming something other than himself. When in fact he is wholly at fault for forgetting the date.

Everyday Alhaitham had been coming to your house, wanting to talk to you but what always greet him was your roomate, telling him that you’re busy. Feeling like he had no right to push it further, he left it at that. With clenched fists and a pang on his chest everytime, he was forced to go home. Today he was at his wits’ end, he had no idea what to do and how would he make you to meet him even for a second. Other than forgiveness that he’s looking for, he missed you terribly. With all the times he could’ve spent with you taken by the damn research, he longed to embrace you, to see your smile, and listen to you rambling about what’s been happening in your life.

Alhaitham wasn’t really one to be experienced in ‘love’, he knew that, you knew that. That’s why he loved your patience in guiding him through this thing, but now the only person that would be able to tell him what to do was the very one person he couldn’t talk to. Alhaitham groaned, thinking if you were in his position you’d probably know to do—scratch that. If it’s you, Alhaitham was sure that you wouldn’t even allow yourself to do such a careless act.

☘

“He’s here again,” your roomate claimed, seeing him from the window. “Just tell him the same thing,” you said, hugging your knees as you sat on the couch. It's true that Alhaitham looked horrible, but you weren’t any better. You’ve been crying yourself to sleep every night, it especially hurt, when you had to hold back the sobs over a pillow that your throat hurts; since you didn’t want to disturb your roomate. What happened that day was like a slap to the face, that you were forced to recognize a fact that perhaps you love Alhaitham way more that he loves you.

Your rommate just nodded to what you say and went to the door. Not long she came back bearing a message. “He said he’d wait for you outside until you feel like talking to him.”

“Just leave him be then, I’m sure he’d go back soon, it’s especially cold outside today.” You said, really having no idea just how stubborn the gray-haired male is going to act. “Well, just keep an eye out.” Your roomate went back to her room. Tell that to him. You thought. You turned the television on to distract yourself, but you couldn’t help but peek outside the window every few minutes, to see if he’s still there. And he always was.

And that went for more than an hour, until you felt like you couldn’t do it anymore. You were mad at him, but you’re not heartless. You couldn’t be. However you didn’t intend to forgive him so easily, you told yourself that you were only meeting him to send him home and to not come back everyday.

You approach the front door and opened it.

There he stood, with an hand behind his back. When he saw you, his eyes lit up, but it quickly turns into a look of concern and guilt mixes, seeing your swollen eyes.

“What do you want?” You curtly said, taking a good look of the man in front of you who’s in terrible shape. His complexion doesn’t look good, there are bags under his eyes, he hasn’t been taking care of himself at all. A part of your chest twinge at the fact that not being able to see you was the cause of all this. You weren’t used to seeing Alhaitham so all over the place, when he always showed a perfect picture of a man who got it all together.

“I’m sorry,” He quickly cut to the chase, afraid that you’ll be out of his sight yet again as he revealed a purple hyacinth, handing it to you. The flower that represented regret and remorse. Then he continued meekly, “Of course, I don’t expect you to forgive me with one lousy flower, but I hope you will believe me when I said I truly regret that I had forgotten about our date, it seethes me with terrible anger to remember that I let myself be so caught up in my business, resulting you had to stand in the snow for hours; hours of you thinking of the reason why I didn’t come, and hours of doubting my feelings towards you. It must’ve felt terrible, I am so sorry.” His voice was close to trembling, however he knew to hold it in, since the one who should be upset was you. “I understand if me being in your vision may infuriate you, but please, please don’t shut me out.” He pleaded, it’s the most vulnerable expression you’ve ever seen on him that it tugs on your heartstrings.

Of course the truth is you missed him as much as he does, but you had to be sure of his feelings towards you. And seeing him now yet again after many failed attempts of meeting you over the days with a flower you didn’t even know where it came from since every field should be covered in snow and a heartfelt all-over-the-place apology, you couldn’t help but soften up. You reached to take the flower. “Come in, let’s talk inside.”

You both sat on the couch, your right hand went to rub his cheek. It was incredibly cold. “What were you thinking, standing in the cold like that? What if I hadn’t come out?” You mumbled gently. “It was nothing compared to what I put you through, I would’ve wait even for days.” He frowned as you leaned in to your touch, putting his hand atop of yours. Oh how he missed this. However he didn’t indulge on the touch thinking it was forgiveness, it’s just because you were that kind.

“You really hurt me,” you started, as he listened. “I had been looking forward to the date for days and then seeing you late looking like you just barely woke up—it made think that maybe you didn’t love me as much.” Your voice sounded so small as you reached the end of your sentence. Alhaitham felt pricks on his heart at the confession, swiftly pulling you into a tight hug. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.” He kissed your temple. “I’m sorry I made you feel that way. But I can assure you that was not the case. I was so caught up on my research that I mixed up the date of our meeting, though that’s not an excuse for such a careless act.” He paused.

“(y/n), I love you very much.”

Alhaitham was really having trouble telling you just how much he loves you. If you’d asked, he would wait on the cold for days until you’re ready to talk to him, even today he thought that it was okay if it was only a second, he had to see you, to know you’re doing fine and well, that was what he thought the most important thing. Just the way he kissed you so gently at the top of your head, you thought that you had a grasp as to how much he loves you. “Thank you for letting me see you,” he smiled, he cupped your face planting kisses on each of your swollen eyelids.

“Promise me you’ll make up for it, haitham,” you said softly. A chance. Alhaitham felt an unexplainable tingle feeling on his chest, “I promise.” He then said kissing you gently on the lips, as he made a mental note to always, always pick you up at your place for the dates that are more to come.

☘

“The flowers? I.. went to Tighnari first thing in the morning, I asked him about the language of the flowers and what they meant. I came across it as I read a book, fortunately I could find the one I was looking for.” He explained, strangely bashful.

Flower picking? On this weather?

“But where did you even get it, isn’t everything either covered in snow or had withered already?” You asked genuinely curious. “Well Tighnari said there would be some on the cliffs of The Chasm, so I went there.” He said.

Cliff? The Chasm? That terribly dangerous place? Of course it’d be nothing for Alhaitham, you thought. But still, traveling that far and so quickly just for a flower.. you couldn’t help but smile.

“Thank you, I like it.” You smiled, the one where it made Alhaitham’s inside all tingly and warm. At this he felt like he really could do anything, as long as you were the one who asked for it. “Tell me what kind of flower you want on our next date, I’ll definitely bring it to you.” He took your hand, trailing little kisses along your fingertips to your wrist. Your stomach fluttered. You really do love him.

As if lesson was strictly learned, from that day forward Alhaitham had never once made you wait anywhere anymore at all. He's always ready in front of your door, sometimes with a flower, sometimes with something that you'd nonchalantly said the day before; for instance a food you were craving for, a necklace that you stared a second longer than the other that were on display, or even a stuffed toy you mentioned was cute even though you only said it to make a conversation.

Before, Alhaitham usually passive, most times always being the receiving end by your spoiling, but it was because he didn't want to take initiative, he just didn't understand how. Now, he understood just how delightful it was to see his loved one smile because of the things he did, and he only had you to thank for that.

Ayato

“My lord?” Thoma’s voice snapped the blue-haired male train of thoughts. “Ah, yes just leave the tea there Thoma.” He said. “Did something happen, my lord? You’ve been pretty out of it all week.”

“I’m fine, you can return to your duty,” Ayato calmly said. The blond housekeeper only nodded and went out, understanding very well that it was futile to probe any further. Ayato looked blankly at the unattended pile of papers he needed to take care of, he hasn’t been working well—or even at all. Since everytime his mind would wander off to you, to your meek voice that day telling him that you were tired, with a tone so hurt his heart couldn’t help but ache. This regret, this remorse; he wondered if he even had any right to feel them? When even to this day he unconsciously stilll waited for you to barge in to the estate, wanted to see you smile happily while greeting him without a care in the world. But that didn’t happen, of course it didn’t.

Ayato shut his eyes with an unpleasant expression for the nth time that day, remembering the date he had forgotten. For how long you were waiting for him? What were you thinking while waiting for him on such a harsh weather? What was it that finally made you give up? All these questions swirled inside his mind as he couldn’t even imagine how terrible you must’ve felt that day. Ayato was a formidable man, he was responsible and someone with a strong conviction, it was what the political people said at least. But he knew you’d laugh, if you hear it. Responsible? That Ayato? Who made his lover wait for him out in the cold for hours?

He didn’t even realize he’s been clenching his fist until he saw the crinkled paper scattered across his desk. Why the hell did I forget such an important day? He fumed, gritting his teeth. But the truth was he had no excuse, he had simply forgotten, perhaps he could blame the endless meeting he had to go through, but even then he was the one who made the promise that he could come. The guilt overwhelmed him, he hoped it would just swallowed him alive, but it wouldn’t be fair to you. He considered calling one of his soldier to try and punch him in the face so he could feel a little free from the binding shame, but only to realize the person who even had the right to do that was none other than you. So Ayato was determined that he’d do anything to beg for your forgiveness.

But more than forgiveness, he’s been worried about your health. He thought that if you hadn’t forgiven him, at least you could be well and healthy, though it was extremely hypocritical to say since he was the one who made you sick in the first place. Ayato stood up, planning to go to your place yet again even though his work was piling up, there are meetings that are waiting to be attended. But at the moment it was clear to him that nothing else matters except seeing you.

☘

This was truly the worst.

Lying down with a fever with nothing to do, surrounded with nothing but unpleasant thoughts roaming around your mind. You blinked the tears away once again as they keep coming occasionally, remembering that day.

You sighed, your head was throbbing and you couldn’t really sleep as you just woke up an hour ago.

As if on cue, a familiar voice called out from the door. “(y/n)?” Ayato called out. Another tired sigh escaped. Does this man not know how to take a hint? You’ve been driving him away for the past few days, his face was the one thing you couldn’t stand to see.

“Please (y/n) open the door, even just for a few second.” His voice was now strained, laced with desperation and plead. You got up all wobbly from the headache, body still feeling sluggish. “What?” You said, frowning.

Seeing your condition Ayato’s expression contorted into utter displeasure, as if you being this way had hurt him too. What a joke, you almost laughed out loud. He looked like he wanted to say something based of how he gaped and closed his mouth like a fish, still finding the right words to say.

“Your few seconds are up,” you said, already on your way to closing your door. “No, no, please.” He hold the door, and of course with your condition and his ridiculous strength, there’s no way you would win that one. “Can I come in?” He finally said. “Why?” You said, leaning on the doorframe intending to look intimidating as you crossed your arm, but really you needed the support to stand up straight on your currently weak body. This didn’t go unnoticed by the sword-wielder of course as the worried expression deepened across his face. “Please, sweetheart let’s talk inside, I’m worried you’ll faint any minute with your condition.” You let off his slip of a tongue, too tired to reprimand him on that. And honestly you wanted nothing more than to return to your bed but you still had something to say. “Worried?” You laughed mockingly, and Ayato had never felt smaller. “Yes.” Still, he managed to say. “Would’ve been nice if you were worried when I was waiting for you in the snow for hours.” That one stings, and Ayato knew he deserved that.

Too tired to chase him away, you just return to your bed and inside your blanket. Ayato just stood awkwardly near the bed. “Have you been taking medicine? How is your head? Would I be allowed to check your temperature? What do you want to-“

“Ayato.” Your tone was chilling, felt like a definite warning—Ayato knew, it was a warning. Right now he doesn’t have any right, there are other matters he should be groveling to take responsibility of, he thought.

“Will you be willing to listen to me?” He kneeled beside the bed, putting his hand on the edge of it, hesitating whether he should touch your hand or not. Your back was still facing him, but you were quiet. Assuming that it was a permission, Ayato continued to talk.

“First of all, I apologize. I couldn’t even begin to tell you how I regret my action, that you had to stand there alone waiting for me—who stupidly didn’t even remember, I apologize.” He whispered, his voice was weak. “No, even way before that the way you always come to the estate to visit me and stood by my side no matter how crazy my work got and how I never thought how it would take a toll on you, I truly truly apologize.” You felt a little part of your heart melted at how meek his voice was.

“I took your unconditional kindness and patience for granted,” he said. There was silence after that, “you did,” you finally said. “I’m sorry.” Ayato repeated once again. He then very hesitantly grabbed your hand, and as soon as he saw that you gave the okay he brought it to his face, kissing your palm very lovingly. You turned your head to him as you were lying down, he looked disheveled.

“Don’t go to the estate anymore.” The blue-haired male announced suddenly, your stomach dropped as he quickly continued.

“From now on I’ll come to you.”

You blinked. “I’ll make sure to be here every day, greeting you first thing in the morning.” Ayato smiled, determined. He was sure on his decision to do this. “As of now, I know very well I don’t deserve your kindness, so I’ll try hard to do better, to do my best, for you.”

Your heart softened at his words.

“Can you please give me this chance?” He was desperate. Your anger slowly dissipated, a warm light like a candle flickered inside your chest, a hope. “Okay.” Ayato was over the moon hearing the response, that he couldn’t help but kiss your temple. Your stomach fluttered, it knew you missed his touch. “For now can I ask you to eat and take medicine?” He asked while gently tucking your hair behind your ear. You nodded, as he got everything ready. He ended up beside you all day, taking care of your needs.

☘

Since that day Ayato did not break his promise even once. Always coming in the morning, sometimes with gift on his hand, other times with breakfast all ready. Then he shared his schedule with you for the day, and even then he’d always be the one to visit you when he was free, showering you with such overwhelming love. It was clear that the man love you very very much, and now he didn’t let you forget that.

“Ayato, thank you.” You said, on a random night. He just looked at you, adoration was apparent on his expression. “Anything for you, love. I mean it, anything.” He kissed your lips gently, the nightfall continued comfortably.

TAGLIST- <3

@sunsethw4 @ieathairs @96jnie @kipper-s @nambii @tigerpriestess @bearbae4 @wearetherealarmb @squishychongyun @jokerloverparis @katsudonnnnnni @dr3amyxiao @xiamuyi @luningningtala @fuyaa @goldenglow149 @xiaosmaskandspear @acheeseblock @fishsticksonballsacks @rokosbasalisk @stellakito @roguexmoriartea @sageseagrass @irisxiel @lowotad @trecedelabuenasuerte @the-dreaming-city @lilliansstuff @cinaiel @bunny-slvt @orginiallyann @chaotickio @n1tsumi @kunikuzushisbeloved @ilovemarvel99 @lunaizhere @optimisticalmondbananabiscuit @kurohoely @larisanam @chaotichearts-19 @illdoitagainbopbop @mzia642 @childesglove @justgiulia @celestialwinds @traumaramacenter @kazuhaprnt @fou56 @angelkazusstuff @itsyourgirlria @yamtwt @gel0517

i can't seem to tag some of you guys, perhaps it's something to do on the accoun't settings? regardless hope you can still find this fic and thank you all for the interest <3

[talaok]

Hi, I was watching your writing and I'm in love, could you do one where Pedro Pascal and the reader have a child and are very famous?

Pairing: Pedro Pascal x reader

A/n: OK. i'll be honest i panicked cause I don't know if by have a baby you meant giving birth to one or having having it, so I googled it and Google said the first one, so I went with that.

Having to sneak out of your own home while in active labor definitely wasn't on your to-do list, but the mob of paparazzi right at your front door didn't give you much of a choice.

It was midnight, why the hell they were still there was well beyond you, but then again, everything that had happened since you and Pedro were first spotted together had been just as crazy.

It was like a media tornado. Everyone seemed to have an opinion about you, and of course, a constant need to regurgitate it on the internet, magazines, and even newspapers at one point.

It was ridiculous it's what it was.

And when the vultures found out you were pregnant... oof, you can imagine what a shitshow that was.

A camera was being pointed at you every time any of you left the house, whether you saw it or not, you could be certain it was.

And Pedro had tried to do everything in his power to stop it, he wasn't someone who lost his cool very easily, but when it came to you and the child growing in your belly... he transformed completely.

He had filed lawsuits and spoken with everyone he could to let you have some godforsaken privacy and peace, but when that clearly wasn't working he started to get more practical.

You walked everywhere with him now, so that the moment the paparazzi got even a tiny bit annoying he could do his best to try and make them stop (which oftentimes required him to scream at them to "let you fucking breathe").

And now, that the media had somehow obtained your due date, of course, Pedro had planned the perfect escape route.

Which was why he was now backing up the car to rush to the hospital.

"You ok?" he breathed, although his lungs had long been uncooperating.

"yeah" you hissed through another contraction "just-hurry please"

His eyes were on the road the whole time, but you could feel him staring nonetheless.

His right hand was holding yours for dear life, telling you -I'm here, it's all gonna be fine- all the way to the delivery room.

"Just another push" the doctor said, and you obliged, pushing and squeezing Pedro's hand until all his veins were seconds from popping.

And then-just when you were ready to say fuck it, I'm done here, you heard it- you heard the cry, and you didn't know why, you didn't know how... but tears, tears a mile long started flowing from your eyes.

"It's a girl," The doctor said, handing the now blanketed child to you, into your arms.

If you could you would have told him that it wasn't a good idea, that your arms felt about as strong as noodles right now- but all you could do was watch, as the baby -your daughter- stared back at you with her dad's eyes.

"hey" you felt a voice to your left, and turned to find Pedro crouching beside you.

"hey there" he whispered to the baby, letting his finger trail her minuscule face.

"It's your daddy," he murmured "Listen, I know you're probably tired and don't wanna listen to me, but I just wanted you to know-" he paused, looking almost unbelieving, like he was waiting for the moment he would blink, and everything was gonna disappear, his daughter, you, everything he cared for the most in the world just... poof.

But you didn't.

And he still couldn't believe it.

"I just wanted you to know that I love you" he said, "I love you and your mommy more than anything, anything in the whole world" he kissed her pretty forehead "And I swear... I swear I'm gonna spend every single day of my life proving it"

You smiled through the tears, as he struggled to fight back his.

"I'm sorry, we need to take her for a moment" The doctor spoke again, 

You had forgotten he was still in the room.

"Do you?" Pedro asked, although he already knew the answer

"We do, Mr. Pascal, I'm sorry, we need to wash her and make sure she's all right"

He sighed, looking down at the tiny creature in your arms with a glint in his eyes you had never seen before.

"fine" he mumbled

You sniffled, staring down at her.

"I love you." you murmured, kissing her cheek "God, I love you so much" you chuckled, before handing her to the nurse.

Please be careful, you had to fight the urge to say.

And just like that- only you and Pedro remained in the room.

Silence, a light, stunned, happy silence fell- and only after you regained consciousness, and realized what just happened, did all the noises come back.

The beeping of the monitor, the buzzing of the tv, and- and shouts from outside, talking and murmuring of what you already knew was a crowd.

Pedro must have noticed too, because he went to peek from the window.

"I'm gonna kill them" he sighed, his forehead falling to the glass, watching as interviewers and paparazzi clogged the entrance of the hospital.

"It's a lot?" 

"Yeah"

Again, silence.

"Baby?" you called 

"yes?"

"We'll think about it later," you said, holding your hand out for him.

He immediately took it.

He crouched next to you and you looked at one another, so many things to say and yet no idea how to say them- until- until-

"We have a daughter" you smiled

And he laughed, he laughed all the happiness and anxiety right out of his body.

"We do" he grinned, his eyes teary "We have a daughter"

[asterrrific]

lee chan x reader

Idk what to title this

Dino x reader (ft. 95z)

Warnings: none, just loads of fluff

unedited so i apologize for any grammatical errors or whatever. i made this bc a sudden idea came to me🥹

---

It was around 1am when y/n felt herself sway in her seat.

Books, answersheets, pens, sticky notes, her laptop, and a variety of snacks to keep her awake but failed were scattered at desk. It was the last week of the first semester and she's trying to rush all of her academic backlogs.

Such is the life of a senior student leader with other commitments. Always the last to catch up with academic requirements and classes because of her duties.

She shook herself awake, forcing her hand to continue writing. Her eyes were drooping, but she persevered.

"Get it together, y/n. One last chapter THEN you can go to bed." she willed herself.

But she's been staying up for weeks now. Dark circles are more than evident under her eyes. She's lost weight as well, and she's been easily stressed nowadays.

So it was hard to battle sleep.

"Bub?" came a familiar voice. Normally, she'd get excited and awake whenever she hears the endearment, but tonight, she's a dead man.

Chan cups her cheeks gently, stilling her from swaying in her seat as she battled sleep. His eyes strayed to her paper, words not evident, but random squiggles she perhaps thought were answers.

"Baby, you're not even writing answers anymore." He chuckles lightly as he takes away the pen from her hand. Y/n tries to grab it back... weakly.

"No, I can make it... I'm almost thereeee." she whines, eyes half closed, trying to reach for her pen. Chan keeps one hand on her cheek while the other puts the pen away.

"Y/N Baby, it's been three weeks. You've been busy since the start of the month. Your body is probably hating you right now. Let me take care of you please?" Chan gently prods, almost whispering.

Y/n and Chan's friends have all been concerned about her state. She's NEVER had decent sleep since the start of the month, BARELY eats her meals and snacks on time, and RARELY goes out with them.

It worried them so much that even Chan excuses himself from practices earlier than the rest now so he could monitor y/n.

"But I need all these. I wanted all these." she counters.

"I know, bub, and I appreciate that and I'm so so proud of you... but what's the whole point of achieving all these if you're gonna lose yourself in the process, hmm?"

At this, y/n's eyes flutter open, now aware of where this is going.

She knows damn well that he's right. But she just can't help but panic sometimes, knowing that the rest of her classmates have already submitted theirs and she's probably the last one left, although she's been given a grace period.

"Let's go to bed, please? It's already Sunday. We can sleep in. You can get some rest, and I'll be with you since we won't have practice. We can do anything you want except these academics. Please, baby? Have time for yourself too?" Chan barters. He tries his best at making puppy eyes at y/n, hoping his aegyo would work on her like it does with his hyungs.

Y/n sighs as she leans her forehead on Chan's. He closes his eyes and nuzzles his nose gently on to hers, then giving it a small kiss later.

"Whatchu think, bub? Like my proposal?"

"Fine, you win. But only because I'm so so drained now. How do you do it, Channie? How do you get things done and not get guilty and tired at all?" she asks, eyes closed.

"Who told you I don't get tired and guilty? I do. I just don't show it that much." He admits.

"Why though?"

"Because I don't want to worry any of you guys."

Y/N looks at Chan, his eyes on hers, his hands finding their way back to her cheek.

"I've learned to handle myself earlier on because of the nature of my career. And the hyungs helped me a lot too. If you'll allow me, I can help you work that out as well. Because I love you and I am concerned and I want to take care of you the way you derserve to." he lovingly explains.

Y/n smiles sleepily, allowing her whole body to lose its tension. She drops forward to surrender to Chan, who giggles on the floor as he catches her.

"There's my baby girl." he coos, as he sits up, caressing her hair carefully. She snuggles closer to him.

"Oh my God, I've been craving this for a whole week. I really DO deserve this." she exclaims, making Chan laugh lovingly.

He adjusts to carry her towards their shared bedroom in y/n's apartment. Gently, he lays her down before climbing in after her. Y/n immediately attaches herself to him the minute he settles in.

Chan lets y/n lay her head on his chest. He showers her head with little kisses while he rubbed random shapes on her back, lulling her to sleep.

"We'll talk more in the morning bubs. Get some rest, hmm?" Chan says, grabbing a blanket to tuck them both in.

"Mmkay..." y/n sleepily agrees.

Chan was about to close his eyes when his phone rings. A call.

"Hello-?"

"WHERE'S THE UPDATE, CHILD? IT'S BEEN TEN MINUTES. ARE YOU HOME YET?" comes Seungcheol's prodding voice. Apparently, because of his worry for Y/N, Chan forgot to update his hyungs who were still probably hanging out together after practice.

"Sorry, hyung." Chan fumbles, as he sets the call on video, showing y/n on his chest, hoping it'd serve as an explanation.

"You got us worried here you know? How can we have ber when- Oh my God, am I seeing this correctly?" asks the older male.

Chan chuckles as he brings the phone back to his face.

"Yep. She almost fell from her seat when I came in. That's why I wasn't able to call. Sorry."

"No, it's okay. What's important is she's getting rest now goddamn... she's hard to take care of sometimes. Proud of you for being patient with her, Lee Chan." Seungcheol salutes from the other side.

"Did I hear right?" Comes Jeonghan's voice as he and Joshua comes into the picture. The three eldest are like real brothers to Chan and even y/n. They worry for them like real siblings would, that's why Chan can always go home earlier than the rest, so he can care for y/n too.

And when y/n is with them, they surround her protectively, along with the other members especially when they're out, since fans can get really pushy sometimes.

"Finally, she's getting sleep. I hope tomorrow we can go out too." Joshua sighs.

"Nope. I promised her we can sleep in and we'll do whatever we want- except those freaking acads."

"Then maybe we could go there instead? We'd bring snacks for her and whatever else she needs. Tell her in the morn-"

Joshua and the other boys stop when they all saw y/n stir in her sleep. Chan immediately caressed her hair to lull her back.

"Channie?" she blinks, trying to lift herself away from him. The boys on the screen signal him to end the call and just message instead but y/n sees them.

"Oh..." she starts as her eyes adjust to the screen.

"Heyyy, y/n! We were just checking in. Go back to sleep." Seungcheol smiles.

Still really tired and sleep drunk, y/n hums. Chan smiles as he helps her lie back down.

"We'll message tomorrow Chan. Get some sleep too. It's been a long day." Seungcheol orders, his leadership shining through the older brother figure that Chan sees in him.

Chan does a salute as the call ends. He puts the phone on dnd on the bed side table and snuggles lower to cuddle with y/n, already going deeper in her sleep.

---

The next morning, Chan wakes up first. Y/N is no longer on him, but is still asleep soundly next to his chest. Her arms wrapped around his middle while her legs tangled with his. He blinks as rays of light sneaks through the blinds, and smiles as his eyes start to focus on the sleeping beauty next to him.

Gently, he carefully carressed her face, using his finger to trace out her freckles that he loved.

Y/n hums and stirs, and Chan freezes for a second. Slowly like a cat basking in daylight, she stretches, hitting Chan's chin on the process.

This was enough to wake her up.

"Oh gosh, I'm so sorry Channie." she goes, caressing the spot she just hit.

Chan laughs it off as he catches her hands, kissing them both gently.

"It's good morning first before that, my love." He says, pulling her close and settling his lips to the top of her head. With a contented sigh, he inhales her scent like his morning coffee.

"Good morning, bub." she giggles. It was music to his ears.

"Good morning, bub. How was your sleep?" He asks, brushing her hair away from her face and tucking strays behind her ear.

"It was good. Really good. I think I dreamed of the oppas..."

Chan laughs loudly at this, his laugh tickling y/n's ears. God, how she loved his laugh.

"It wasn't a dream, my love. They called last night and you saw them." he explains, pinching her cheeks softly then booping her nose.

He was overflowing with love for her so early in the morning, and he couldn't stop himself. Especially now that y/n has finally gotten some rest that she so much deserved.

"Oh they did? So they're coming over?"

"Uh huh. Later in the afternoon."

Y/n reaches over to Chan's side, where her phone was also placed. He gently holds on to her waist as she lifted herself on top of him.

"It's 9am..." she announces.

"Wanna have breakfast? Or brunch?"

"Uhm... I still kinda wanna sleep more." she admits sheepishly as she sinks back to her place besides Chan.

"Then let's sleep more."

"How about the guys?" she worries. "We might oversleep. How are we gonna prepare?"

"Well, I could tell them to come for dinner instead so we could still have more time to sleep and prepare after. What do you think, bub?" he asks, pulling her close.

Y/n takes her time to answer, and stays silent. It fooled Chan into thinking she fell back to sleep.

He was about to snuggle closer and go back to sleep when suddenly, y/n jerks up, her head hitting the same spot on Chan's chin she already hit earlier.

"Owwwww" they both say in unison.

"I'm so so so sorry bubby." She frantically says, laughing. "I was going to try to kiss you!" she worries.

"Double that then." he teases her, tending to his aching chin.

Y/n caresses the spot, then kisses it. She then locks eyes with Chan.

"You can hit my chin one million times and I'd still be head over heels for you after." he whispers.

"I'll kiss all your pain away a million times more then." she whispers back.

"Why are you whispering?"

"Because you just did. Why ARE we whispering?" she giggles. Chan sighs.

Gently, he grabs her face in his hands, and softly lands a kiss to her forehead.

He stayed there for a bit, savoring the moment. Y/n closes her eyes and runs her hands on Chan's arms, enjoying the vulnerability and sweetness of the moment.

"I love you-" they say in unison again, after Chan breaks off. They laugh again.

This time, it was y/n's turn.

As they giggled at their antics, she pulled Chan by the collar of his shirt, and gently crashed her lips on his. It took him by surprise, but he quickly adjusts, burrying his hands into her hair and softly playing with them as he returned the kiss.

"God, I love you." He speaks first as they broke it off to catch their breaths. He peppers her face with little kisses, making her smile.

"I love you..." she replies, kissing the top of his nose in return. Chan pulls her back to his chest. His heartbeat drumming loudly, lulling her back to sleep after all the fluff.

"Go back to sleep, my love. We've got a lot of time." he tells her. Y/n nods, loving every moment of her rest. Her deadlines flying out of her thoughts.

---------------------

a/n: guyyyyys it's been so long since i last wrote something here😭 uni has been so stressful lately. Maybe that's why I wrote this in this light and theme. I badly need a Dino in my life too.

Anyways, I want to write more😭 someone give me prompts or something.

And as always, if you loved this as much as I loved writing it, please leave a comment or reblog so other people would see my works too🥹👉🏻👈🏻🤍

lot's of love,

aster🫡

[imtrashraccoon]

This mans be giving me so many ideas. I love him so much!

Future Tumble Edit: The awesome @teasworldstuff made some beautiful fanart for this chapter! Check it out here!

@owl-bones

First Day, Previous Day, & Next Day.

Bad Sansuary: Nightmare - Formal

Word Count: 1,561

You were standing in what was best described as a grand hall. The floor was covered in a red carpet and the curtains over the large windows were a darker shade of red. There was a fancy chandelier hanging from the very center of the ceiling, an elegant grand staircase, a long buffet table, and a wide open area at one side of the room that served as a dance floor.

Looking down, you quickly discovered that you were dressed in an outfit that was far from anything you'd ever imagined owning, let alone wearing. It was a floor length silver ball gown with sheer sleeves and plenty of tule. Frankly, it was gorgeous and you couldn't help but do a little twirl to see how pretty it really was. You also had sliver chain bracelets on both your wrists, a velvet black choker around your neck, and a pair of black heels.

Hearing soft footsteps, you looked up and saw Nightmare at the top of the grand staircase. He was also dressed formally, wearing a three piece plum coloured suit and expensive looking leather dress shoes. He was still wearing his gold moon circlet although he seemed to have some fancier gold rings this time, many of which were encrusted with brilliant precious stones. The four tentacles you'd noticed the first time you saw him were noticeably absent though.

He descended the stairs slowly, maintaining eye contact with you the whole time. You couldn't help but feel entranced by how regal and elegant he was carrying himself. He looked like he could easily blend in with high society if he wanted to.

"Good evening, my dear," he said in that same velvety tone of voice once he'd reached the bottom of the stairs.

Your tongue felt heavy and for a moment you couldn't speak. You knew this was a dream but with how he'd just spoken to you and how beautiful this place was, you felt like you'd stepped into your favorite historical romance show. It didn't help that recently you'd realized you had a thing for oddly handsome skeletons.

Finally, you managed to clear your throat and find your voice again. Giving a bit of a curtsey, you smiled and greeted him in return. "Good evening..."

He smiled as he walked over, stopping a foot or so away, and offered his arm to you. His demeanor seemed almost genuine but you got the feeling that this was more of an act than anything on his part, albeit a very good one.

You hesitated for a moment but accepted his offer and linked your arm in his own. He began to guide you over to the dance floor and you followed willingly. This whole situation felt so bizarre though.

"Is the outfit to your liking?" he asked and glanced over at you. "You seem a bit tense, my dear."

You felt your cheeks grow warm from embarrassment and nodded. "Sorry, I just don't dress up often...and I'm not used to wearing anything this long." Not wanting to seem rude though, you quickly added, "I love the colour though."

He hummed softly and his cyan eyelight briefly flicked over your body before he looked away. "My apologies, I'll take that into consideration for next time."

You were left wondering what the extent of his knowledge was when it came to fancy clothing like this. You could picture him knowing quite a bit considering he seemed like the type to enjoy the finer things in life. Also, was he planning to do this again?

"Forgive me if this sounds too forward but I feel I would be remiss if I said nothing."

You looked over at Nightmare in a curious way.

"You are rather gorgeous, my dear. I imagine you must get quite a few compliments on your appearance, or am I wrong?" he continued to say.

You were certain your cheeks had turned a bright pink as a result of his comment and reflexively ducked your head out of embarrassment.

"No, at least none that are flattering..." you murmured. "A lot of men tend to catcall me or make other lewd comments."

He clicked his non-existent tongue in a disapproving manner. "That's a shame...they clearly don't deserve your time or attention, dear."

You didn't know what to say in response. He was right, but the comments still bothered you and it wasn't always as simple as ignoring them. Most guys that would subject you to those things were also the type to pursue you and not take no for an answer.

"Do you know how to dance?" Nightmare asked, changing the subject and bringing you out of your thoughts.

You shook your head, "Not really."

He tilted his skull and an amused expression flickered across his face. "It's fairly simple. I could show you how if you'd like?"

As he spoke, he started to guide you into a waltz and you followed to the best of your ability. Your heart was fluttering in your chest at how close you were to him and how magical this moment felt. Still, your movements were stiff in comparison to his effortless, smooth ones.

He seemed to notice how nervous you were and leaned closer to you. "Relax and try to enjoy yourself, my dear. It's only a dream afterall, so you might as well have fun, am I right?"

You nodded and took a deep breath to try and ease your nerves. It was only a dream. When would you ever get to experience something like this again? Sure, you were currently dancing with a god, but he really gave off those mysterious dark stranger vibes that you secretly loved reading about. So why not just forget everything you dealt with on a daily basis and enjoy this short moment?

You started to lose yourself in the motions as you both danced together. Well, that is until Nightmare suddenly stopped dancing and pulled you closer, holding your body against his own. His cyan eyelight stared deep into your eyes and for a moment, you thought you could see a brief glimpse of the power he held.

Not only had he crafted two gorgeous dreams so far but he was obviously capable of a lot more than that. He could have subjected you to actual nightmares instead but he wasn't. So why was he being so nice?

He released his hold on you as if nothing had happened and guided you over to a comfortable couch that you hadn't previously noticed. You gratefully sank into the plush cushions and took a deep breath to calm your beating heart. While dancing with him had been fun, you were feeling a bit faint from both how anxious you'd been and how close he'd been holding you. There was only do much your poor heart could take.

After a moment, Nightmare hummed in a thoughtful way. "May I ask what kind of formal outfit you would be most comfortable in?" he asked.

You tilted your head as you pondered his question. "I think either a knee length dress or a blouse and skirt combo. It's most similar to what I wear for work but I guess neither of those would quite fit this dream."

He nodded in agreement. "Would wearing something so similar like that remind you of your job and only serve to distract you?"

You blinked in surprise. You hadn't thought about that at all and now that you were, he was probably right.

Glancing over at him, you nodded slowly. "Probably... I don't like my job very much so it would be distracting."

"Then it's a good thing you can see what it's like in this dream, isn't it?" he commented.

"Yeah, I suppose so."

After a moment of silence, you fully turned to look at him. "Nightmare? Um, can I call you that or...?"

He nodded and motioned for you to continue speaking.

Feeling slightly bolder, you took a deep breath to steady your nerves. "I know from what the boys have told me that you aren't known for being nice without a reason. So, why did you create this dream? And why are you trying to get to know me like this?"

He smiled and gave you an amused look. His tone became quieter and even more gentle as he started to answer. "I mentioned this yesterday but in my eyes, you are clearly exceptional as far as humans are concerned. I'm just trying to figure out what exactly sets you apart from all the others."

When you frowned slightly, he added, "And I'm not referring to your Intent either. I want to see why you choose to act the way you do."

He lightly ran his phalanges over your cheek and tucked some of your hair behind your ear. "I'll see you soon, my dear..." he murmured as he went to stand up

The last thing you remembered was the way his permanent grin quirked up at the edges and how his good eye socket narrowed in a way that sent chills down your spine. Then, you were waking up in your bed once again with a fluttering feeling in your soul.

He seemed to have the ability to toy with your emotions... Why else would he know exactly what to do to tug at your heart strings? He was definitely dangerous...

[josphitia]

Josie's Cow HRT Journey Part 1 - Discovery

I've been living as myself for 10 years. It's been hard, but I've achieved so much. I see a woman when I look in the mirror. There are aspects of myself I'm unhappy with, but who doesn't have that, right? So why did it feel like something's still missing?

I was just browsing my socials and I saw something that caught my eye, something that scratched an itch I didn't have words for. This girl was a freaking werewolf??? And more than that, it was from HRT??? I never really had a Tixter before but for this I had to make an account, I wanted to learn everything I could about this!

After that discovery, I was entranced for days by transition timelines. I saw people of all genders (or none!) posting their happiness and successes becoming the animals they truly were. Dragons, fish, mice, it seemed there was no end to the menagerie unfolding before my eyes. There were so many different creatures, but none really felt like “me.” Sure, having wings would be cool, and horns felt right, but I definitely wasn't a dragon. I love tigers but the idea of becoming an obligate carnivore scared me (although I would've rocked the stripes). The horses were sleek and gorgeous, and while hooves scratched this newfound itch, I just couldn't see myself as an equine.

Maybe I was just a happy ally? So excited to see people being able to be their authentic selves, but not a journey of my own? The thought of just leaving it at that, however, filled me with dread. I knew in my stomach this would be something I'd regret if I didn't pursue it. After all, wasn't that feeling of reticence proof enough I was on the right path? So on I scrolled.

It almost felt like some weird form of para-social shopping. Seeing a happy giraffe girl and thinking “could I be happy like that?” The animals though just never felt like they fit right for me. There were aspects I identified with, but never a whole package. It was like some weird riddle, which animal was just… myself?

Then I came across a random post and it was like everything clicked into place. It was a girl posting a comedic picture of herself trying to acclimate to her new diet: a salad of grass clippings. Underneath that picture was a hashtag that seemed to illuminate a corner of my brain used to darkness: #CowHRT. I was teary eyed, I had finally found who I was. It just felt right, it felt like *me*.

For the next few days it felt like every mystery of my being had an answer. Why did I always wear my sunglasses over my head? It was helping to relieve my dysphoria of not having horns. Why were shoes so hard to shop for and never fit quite right? I wasn't even supposed to be wearing them. Heck, I might’ve not even supposed to have toes! Even my diet seemed to fit into perfect place. I was already vegan for a number of years and loved nothing more than a nice bowl of leafy greens or broccoli. I wasn't going to become a cow, I already and always was one. I just needed help to see that bovine in the mirror.

By some stroke of luck it turned out a lot of the girls undergoing animal HRT lived in the same city as me, so I was able to find the doctor they were attending relatively easily. It seemed he had as many positive reviews as he did negative… But, surely he couldn't throw anything at me that I hadn't already dealt with. I've dealt with my fair share of awful therapists and doctors. I bookmarked his website, dreading the eventual phone call I would make. I was so eager, my head was already making plans for how my life would change and how I'd live life as my authentic self. There was just one thing I hadn't quite mentally tackled, something that should be easy but still filled me with anxiety…

How was I going to tell my husband?

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Josie's Cow HRT Journey

First|Previous|Next

[hvhvmoc]

Plsss I needed moooore more doodle smutt i LOVVVED the other one 💕🫶🫶

New ideas

Warnings : smut, sex position "Nelson", nervousness, cussing, unprotected sex, overstimulation, squirting, afab anatomy, roughness

Genre : romance, smut

Characters included : Moe doodle(bop), afab\gn reader

Writing style : oneshot

A\n : I was angry so I did this hella late and anger turns into horny sooooo

He loved being intimate with you, he truly did. But he felt like he needed to spice things up sometimes ; bring new stuff to the bedroom. But he didn't want to scare you off or do something that might be out of your comfort zone. So he didn't try anything new.

But you felt the same way. Moe was more timid and "fragile" so your fears where way stronger. It wasn't like he was fragile, actually, he's sensitive ; gets overstimulated easily. But one night when you two were getting intimate, it all came out. Both of you told each other you wanted to try some things new that you found.

Moe was so much more relieved that you feel the same way compared to you. You let him go first to "show you what he'd learned".

"I just found some new positions and stuff," he dragged out. "Show me then," you said, massaging his unclothed thigh. You two we're already out of your clothes. He responded by just kissing you, roughly. "Get on me, back to me," he seemingly ordered, although he tried to make it less orderly like (which failed) but you didn't mind. You sat yourself at his lower stomach,your back to him, to where your cunt barley touched his already hard dick.

"There ya go," he said encouragingly. He sits up a bit, snaking his arms under your thighs. "Relax your legs for me, keep your hands on my chest and lean back," he said in a reassuring tone. He asked you if you were ready, like he always does, and pushed his dick into you once you confirmed you were. He brought his hands, which were still under your inner knees, to where they were resting on the back of your neck.

Your legs were resting against your boobs, Moe moved around a bit so you were both comfortable. Once you told him he could move, he started off fast, which you usually doesn't do. The new postion made it so his dick couldn't more of your sweet spots, which has you seeing stars. Because of the new position you weren't able to cover your mouth, so you let everything out. Thankfully you two were alone in the house.

Moe seemed to be enjoying it too. He bit down on your shoulder, and his legs shook more than usual. Both of you were sweating more than usual. "Shit! Fuck, baby! More, more, more, more," you practically screamed at him. He fixed his legs and started going faster and harder, causing your moans to be louder and louder.

Sooner or later you felt your orgasm coming, which you did warn him about. "I'm gonna-" you cut yourself off with the knot in your stomach finally bursting while your legs are still forced to be held open. But he didn't stop, not for a second. He did go slower for a couple seconds before going back to his usual speed.

Tears starting brimming in your eyes and your legs start to shake. Your voice cracked in the middle of moans multiple times. Moe brought a hand down to your clit, rubbing it at a speed to match his thrusting. Now instead of trying to close your legs, you opened them more, inviting him in. Drool escaped your mouth and down your chin as his thrusts and fingers got faster.

"Fuck Baby!" You screamed at you felt your second orgasm coming through. "Come wITh me- dear," he said, his voice cracking. His thrusts got sloppier but his fingers kept their pace. You came around him first, he slowly followed after. It was only when you looked down when you noticed the mess you made. "Damn that was hot" Moe said, breaking your thoughts. He hugged you, taking a not of how limp your body felt. "You're tired already?? That was only the first thing I figured out. And you better get ready because I learned how to last longer too, sweetcheeks," he flipped you around and kissed you and you, too overwhelmed to cringe at the pet name, kissed him back.

Needless to say, you two didn't sleep much that night.

Ohmeohmy

[rosesradio]

See, I thought I'd just wait until you turned anon asks back on... then I realized I can't wait that long. (Ignore that it hasn't even been a day)

Here's me unmasking solely to agree with you that Jason railing Octavian would have fixed him 💙💙💙

–Jasico smut off-anon 💙🖤

i can't believe the jasico smut anon's finally been unmasked 🥺 i feel bad considering that i didn't leave anon off that long/i was just being a silly goose, but still. i'm glad you felt okay to unmask beloved mutual 💌

aaanyways, i did have some jason/octavian ideas i mused about over work i might as well talk about since you came all this way (to my inbox)

i'm sure there's a ship name for jason/octavian somewhere & i'm not the first to come up with jack shit, though for simplicity's sake i'll call/tag them javian

i can see a scenario in which jason & octavian are like childhood friends turned long-time political rivals. jason's been praetor for ages & pratically primed for the position since he could walk (i know richard gave jason more of a rags-to-riches 5th cohort story in canon but tbh...i don't buy that shit. bro's a nepo baby). octavian's jealous & corrupt & flirting with a decent into madness.

i think that the camp jupiter campers would be pretty sexually repressed (first chb's abhorrent sex ed, now this lol). maybe it's unintentional, these campers are fighting & dying & don't have the time or necessity to learn about sex, apparently. jason would probably come to a point where he regularly gets himself off, but octavian...wouldn't. he'd do it a couple times, the stats of which are shocking & worrying at best. he's got shit to do, right? augur here, praetor-to-be there—he has no time for that sort of thing...until he does.

the tension between jason & octavian could develop into a rivals-with-benefits situation. octavian was never one to practice battle, though he starts joining jason, challenging him. jason overpowers him easily, pinning wrists and hips under strong, large hands. he'd say something along the lines of "if i didn't know any better, i'd say you were enjoying this"

...and he is. a lot more than he should.

i think jason would enjoy tying octavian down, finally restraining him to do what he wants. octavian, surprisingly, would like it too. he constantly feels things spiraling out of control, so to have a space he's confined to, an act with the same steps and the same building pleasure, brings octavian a strange sense of comfort and relief.

jason would consider a ball gag to really shut up octavian's quips, though he loves the sound of octavian coming undone too much for that. as stated, octavian's super sexually repressed. although there's a certain amount of shame there, he's too far gone to feel self concious about how he moans and begs for jason. he is really sensitive, too, and it takes a bit of time to build up his stamina. jason's more than happy to help him get there, even if that means getting himself off in various ways during their first few hookups.

there's a few soft moments in their dynamic, though it's far from healthy and fluffy. at times, it's almost like another duty to fulfill, a practice that makes their lives easier. there's a professionalism to it.

at one point, when jason's got octavian laid down on the bed, his cock down his throat as octavian's hands are tied to jason's headboard (thank goodness for a praetor's private quarters...people are not at all getting suspicious about how many times octavian goes in there to "discuss matters of great importance to new rome", or whatever). octavian starts to roll his hips up towards jason on impulse, his thighs trembling.

& jason pins his hips firmly to the mattress, pulling off to give him a stern look. he tells him not to move, to stay absolutely still and take what jason's giving him "like a good boy". & part of octavian hates how demeaning it feels, though at the same time...his cock twitches, leaking a bit of precum. & he manages a "...yes, sir" that surprises even himself. he's not sure where that came from or why he's so turned on by it.

it's like it makes this obscene thing they're doing less obscene...or perhaps more so, breaking decorum in one of the only ways octavian will allow.

jason seems to like it, too, raising his brows before resuming with double the efforts. octavian writhes in his binds, longing to run his fingers through jason's hair. he pants and moans, fighting the urge to roll his hips as he calls him "sir" over and over again, like a prayer.

it doesn't take octavian long to come after that, and jason is sure to incorporate this new discovery from then on out.

[boundinparchment]

Dream a Little Dream of Me - XLIII

Celestia had a cruel sense of humor. He knew this, even before his days as a student. But to be given a soulmate? Now, when he openly blasphemed against the cursed island in the sky? He would outlive you and the dreadful fated bond that haunted your shared dreams. There was little point in this. He could at least put a Vision to good use. People were nothing but disappointments. He had no use for you. Until you pulled the bow across your instrument and awoke a part of him long buried by self-hatred and arrogance. Soulmate AU; Il Dottore/Female reader w/ established personality and backstory. Slow burn. Lore and world speculation and interpretation within; follows canon story where possible. Rated Mature. Rating subject to change. Mind the tags. On AO3 here. (Yes, this is a re-post; this chapter was heavily reworked and warrants it.)

"This needs to stop, Zandik."

He was quiet as his eyes fell from you to the Segment in your lap. Dark circles sat heavy, made all the worse by the poor lighting in the room. Sleep eluded him, too, and it was made all the worse by his natural work habits.

You knew so little about him in this role, as the Second Harbinger. However, you understood how easily he lost himself in his own thoughts and ideas; after all, you did it yourself when composing. Only one who comprehended exactly how deep the waters ran would know how far to go and where to draw the boundary.

Pantalone’s words still sat heavy in your mind but he mistook your patience for complacency. He was hardly the first. No one had pulled your from the icy depths of your own hell in Fontaine; you’d clawed and crawled your way out, one application and interview at a time, and you hadn’t looked back when you were out.

Patience alone would do nothing. Your soulmate had duties to tend to. Those would always come first; it was the nature of such positions.

“You shouldn’t be here,” the man in front of you said flatly.

“This has continued on long enough. I’m not letting you do this to yourself, Zandik.”

A bare hand hesitated before it reached out and brushed the boy’s cheek. Despite the state of the other Segments, this one was entirely untouched, unharmed. Whatever Zandik felt towards himself did not extend as far back as Omega made it seem and you clutched the Segment tighter, pulling him towards you.

You wished you hugged him in that dream after playing until the sun went down. It would have made no difference for Zandik. In another life, perhaps.

This wasn’t fair to him, to either of you. No one deserved for the past to hang over their head, especially so literally. Your lungs tightened and you tried to keep your breathing even, your shaking fists now clutching the fabric of the young Segment’s shirt.

“Mourning looks different for everyone,” you began. “They might be machines in need of disposal but they’re also you.”

“As they loved to remind me every chance they had,” he muttered.

“And you’re human, Zandik.”

He didn’t skip a beat. “I am closer to Omega, to that monster, than I am a human. If I had been selfish enough in my insatiable curiosity about our bond, I would woven our existences together as Omega did and you would be none the wiser that I did so.”

Your words came more freely, less a plea and more a passionate argument. “The man I love deserves more than to be torn to scrap and thrown into the incinerator, like mere refuse. You know that, otherwise there would be nothing left by now.”

The trouble with fated bonds was, in addition to their potentially poor timing, the lack of control over them, specifically their dynamic. Omega alluded to it and before, it hadn’t been entirely clear was laid between you two. Although you reminded yourself that not all bonds were romantic, your fingers ached to touch him just as much as they ached for the fret board; his company was as necessary as pulling notes together and weaving music from them. No pair chose. Even those that fought it did so in vain when suppressing it only resulted in a stronger pull, a more volatile life change.

Neither of you was a fan of predestination but Zandik had agreed to finding a solution. Part of that process meant embracing what connected the two of you together. To do anything else would be folly.

You counted the seconds between when his hand pulled away from the young Segment’s cheek and when he looked at you through his lashes. The recent hollowness you were familiar with was gone, instead replaced with an echo of skepticism; he believed your words, but not their authenticity, and a knife drove itself deeper into your chest.

“What I said stands, regardless of...my own emotions,” you amended. “Whatever you feel must be done, whatever you wish to do, just respect yourself, your humanity, in the process. They’re your past, Zandik. Make peace with them.”

He nodded and his gaze dropped to the child in your lap again before he looked around the room. For a moment, he looked haunted by ghosts long gone, echoes of existences.

“Ashes would be efficient enough all the same.” Zandik said at last, his hands finding yours and prying one from the linen shirt to hold it. “One place comes to mind. Would you accompany me?”

“Of course, mon rêve.”

As he raised your hand to his lips, you caught the slightest whisper against your skin. You swore you caught a twitch at the corner of his mouth as shadows of doubt eased from his expression, leaving only Zandik, your Zandik, in their place.

[fizzyxcustard]

Anything Is Possible (2)

Part 1

Fandom: Robin Hood (BBC TV series)

Pairing: Guy of Gisborne x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Angst, brief smut

Summary: From the imagine, “Imagine you and Guy are in love but you are to be married to someone else. It feels like everything is keeping you apart."

Comments: If you would like to be added to or removed from my tag list, please let me know. Requested by @linasofia I actually had a face in mind for Lord Edmund; Arnold Vosloo from The Mummy, although maybe slightly older. I feel he has that face which could easily be villainous.

Guy paced his room. His mind was in knots, twisted by turmoil. The very thought of losing you to someone else caused one of the knots to rise in his stomach and chest. The pain and intensity of it brought him to his knees at the side of his bed. Tears shed down his cheeks. Someone finally loved him and freely pledged themselves to him, but fate was against him. Nothing in Guy's life ever worked in his favour.

It was after midnight when Guy passed through the gates of Nottingham Castle, and swept away into the shadow of night. Stars twinkled overhead in the heavens. He stopped for a second on the cobbled high street, and looked up. He remembered the first time you had made love. It was in the middle of summer. In a field, beneath an old oak tree. As you both rested together, basking in the afterglow of your passions, the first words you had said to him were, "The stars are watching us."

A tap broke through into your dreams, pulling you back into the waking world. Your heartbeat began to pick up pace, and then as you looked to your right hand side, out the window, you saw him. "Guy!" you exclaimed in a rough whisper, shooting to the window. You opened it and grinned at him.

Relief washed over his features, mixing with a content smile. He pulled his leather gauntlets off, dropping them on to your bed beneath the window inside. He cupped your cheeks, needing to feel your warm skin in his hands.

You closed your eyes and felt his lips on yours. They were slightly chilled, but grew hot as your kiss deepened.

In the dark of the room and amid silence, which was nearly broken in the throes of your passion, you made love again.

Guy rested over you and kept his hands locked in yours. The constant kisses you shared muffled any hint of noise that could have carried through the house. Your bodies were so synchronised, moving together in a magical rhythm.

"I love you," he whispered, once your climaxes had been reached.

When sunshine came, Guy was gone. You smiled to yourself and began to dress for duties. Your father had secured you a position as maid within the castle. You attended to the main wings and guest wings, and thus, met Guy.

A tap came to your door and your mother appeared. "Hurry! You are running late."

Suddenly you noticed your mother's eyebrows furrow in confusion, and her gaze dropped to something on your bed. You looked over at the bed and swallowed hard at the sight of Guy's leather gauntlets. They were unmistakable. Black leather with gold clasps running vertically down the back of the hand. Everyone recognised them.

"You're treading dangerous ground," your mother said simply. "Gisborne has no idea how much danger he's putting us in."

"I love him, Mother," you replied.

Your mother sighed and walked toward you. "I want nothing more than to see you loved and happy. But above that, I want you safe. Gisborne may bring you love and happiness, but not safety."

"How do I know that Edmund won't harm me once we're married? Once we're married then I'll be his to do with whatever he pleases. I'd rather him kill me; I'd still be free. It's you I worry about." You grabbed her hands and squeezed them. "Guy promised he'd keep you safe."

In the castle and you made the beds in the guest wing, also cleaning the furniture and brasses. Nausea rolled through you as you kept imagining the only viable outcome of this scenario: pain. Physical, emotional and mental. Edmund would torture you. Cruelty was all the man knew.

Guy stepped back into his quarters, seeing his gauntlets on the bedside table. He picked them up and smiled, immediately knowing who had put them there. Then his eyes were drawn to the opposite bedside table. Wild flowers, coloured yellow and red, stood proudly in a glass vase. He recognised them straight away as the flowers which grew in the field behind your house.

It was mid-afternoon when your father called you out of your duties, telling you to accompany him home immediately. He had been frustrated and demanding in his tone. There was fear in his eyes, you noticed.

Guy saw you and your father passing across the courtyard. He could plainly see your father holding your arm, pressing you to move quicker. The guard speaking with Guy continued on, requesting advice. "Sir Guy? What do you think?"

Guy turned on his heel, ready to leave, only to hear the guard calling again. "I don't care what you do!' Guy shouted back over his shoulder, and began to half run down the steps which led into the main entrance and exit of the castle.

By the time that Guy had made it to the cobbled lane where you lived, he could see a horse approaching from the southern road. That road came straight through and into the small residential area in which you lived. The horse came closer and within seconds, Guy could plainly see who it was. Lord Edmund.

Edmund dismounted his horse, unawares that Guy was watching from a distance. Easily the same height, if not slightly taller than Guy, bald, menacing dark eyes. Everyone knew Edmund.

"Make yourself presentable," your father ordered you. "Edmund wishes to have dinner with you. Quick!"

Tears of heart wrenching sadness and frustration stung your eyes. A thick lump was sitting painfully in your throat. Your hands shook as you picked out a dress.

You heard the door open and close down the hall.

"My Lord!" you heard your father say loudly.

A dark shape caught your eye and you saw Guy at your window. You raced to the window and opened it, kissing him hard. "Please take me away with you," you wept. "He intends to take me to dinner."

"Where will he take you?" Guy asked, brushing a stray piece of hair from your brow.

"I don't know. He has travelled far, so maybe the castle?"

Guy grit his teeth. Not only was Edmund ripping you away from Guy, but was also pissing on Gisborne's territory.

"If he's taking me to dinner then that must mean the wedding preparations are soon to be underway," you said, succumbing to sobs.

Your father's voice came from the other side of your door. "Are you almost ready? Edmund wishes to leave shortly. Do not hold him up."

Guy cupped your cheek, his eyes also filling with tears. "You'll be mine, I swear," he told you. "Hold on to that. I'll make sure you're watched tonight. He won't lay a finger on you."

The two of you kissed one last time before Guy disappeared and you internally prepared yourself for the evening ahead.

***

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Guy of Gisborne tag list: @puggledy-huggledy-is-not-a-pig @whoooooisthis

(If anyone would like to be added to any of the tag lists, or removed, please let me know)

[its-actually-minicika]

Hey!

I have an idea that just wouldn’t leave my head and as you might already know I really really love your work, you have an amazing talent! This could be a scenerio or idk. So I was thinking about the lake scene in the triwizard tournament, where the person they take from Viktor is Hermione, and my idea is that the reader gets taken the same way after going to the Yule ball with Borya. And like Aemond just cant find the reader and is really worried (you can decide if the confession already happend or not). And as the first champion comes up with their person he realises whats going on and he is worried and maybe jealous and all that. Maybe something even goes bad like it did with Fleurs little sister or something and later just cute reunion and stuff. The whole thing is just Aemond being worried and maybe really affecionate after the whole thing. I dont know if you like this or not, But I would love to see this. Anyway, sorry about this being so long! I hope you are doing okay, and I will continue loving everything you write! ❤️

Siren Calls

(HotD Hogwarts AU)

A scenario of what your life could look like in the HotD Hogwarts AU - it can be read as a stand-alone, as a prequel to the "Yule Ball" series, or as a one-shot all together;

Pairing: Aemond x Reader;

Warnings: mentions of blood and open wounds - other than that, this is pure fluff!

Author's Note: Ramielll!! This!! Is!! Everything!! Thank you so much for sharing your idea with me - it blew my mind completely, and I absolutely love it! I hope you don't mind that I adjusted your ask a little and made the lake scene happen before the Yule Ball takes place;

Your support and kind words mean everything to me, and I thank you for them from the bottom of my heart 😭💗 I'm not really proud of this, but I hope you still enjoy this little piece!

Also, I wanted to take a moment to address an ask that I received from @jamespotterismydaddy regarding more HotD!Hogwarts AU headcanons - I will post them soon, as well! I didn't just ignore your request :") But I first have to work on the 3d part for the Yule Ball, since the following headcanons will have a lot of spoilers for the series;

Six wizards go underwater. Do all of them swim back up?

Quietness washed over the secluded corner of the library - the only palpable noise being the aggressive scribble of Aemond's black feather.

"Sounds like you got a good lead over there..." (Y/N) whispered to him, lost in concentration, and fully engrossed in her Transfiguration paper.

"Hmm." The male replied, fighting back the urge to stop his writing and meet her feeble form, clashing his eyes with hers.

"Psst," She giggled into his ear, "Go slower, why won't you? At this rate, you'll be done way before I am."

Aemond felt his lips quirk up in a content smile. His hand came to a halt, and he finally glanced upon the girl's darkened orbs.

He drank in her distinctive features, reveling in her flushed cheeks and teasing smile. Fire surged within his veins, pumping both heart and loins alike. He tightened his fist below the table, cursing himself for the weakness she so easily caused him.

"Then you'd only have yourself to blame." He hushed right back, tickling her face with his warm breath.

The Gryffindor groaned and bit her cheek in grave frustration. Her eyes widened in feigned horror, and she gripped his shoulders tightly.

"No, no - do anything but leave me in the library all alone! My poor heart will not stand it!" She warned jokingly, though lacing her voice with a serious undertone.

Aemond let out a short breath, almost begrudgingly so, before he placed his big hand atop her head and affectionately patted her back in place.

"You know I'd never leave you to study alone." He remarked dryly, unamused. His words, although neutral and clear, faded in the light of his soft voice and downy eyes. "But that doesn't mean I'll stay here all night. You'll have to make more of an effort."

Another growl and a heartbeat later, (Y/N) pouted her lips and stuck out her tongue.

"Fine." She confirmed decidedly, "You'll see just how fast I can be. I bet you five Galleons I can finish even faster than you!"

The daring nature of Gryffindors shone through her, leaving Aemond both jaded and amused by it's wake. His chest filled with a fondness that scared him, but made him feel whole - complete - at the same time.

"Deal." Aemond piped back to her, leaning back on his chair smugly.

"Shake on it, then." The girl provoked him, with a wide smile etched on her face.

Both wizards brought their hand out in the greeting of the other, and soft fingers entwined with slim and long ones.

For a while, neither seemed to want to part. Together, they fit almost like a puzzle; their palms fell perfectly against the other - the Targaryen licked his lips tentatively, and turned his stare on their joined hands. If there was such a thing as humans made for a specific purpose, he was then sure his purpose was to love that girl.

(Y/N) swallowed thickly, and felt her cheeks turn into a shade of crimson. Before either could open their mouth to speak, the dull footsteps of another echoed through their quiet space.

"Ah, Miss (L/N), Mr Targaryen - Otto told me you might be here." The grave voice of Professor Daemon rung loudly atop their heads.

As quick as it came, their moment was gone, and both students reluctantly let go of their intimate bind.

"Professor Targaryen?" The girl inquired, surprised to see their DADA professor so late at night. She got up from her chair and made more room at their table for him, but Daemon only chuckled at her politeness, raising a hand to stop her in her tracks.

"Thank you, sweetling, but I won't be long. I've come to fetch you to Ott- Professor Hightower's office."

The two students exchanged a look of weariness, before Aemond rose up from his seat as well.

"Ah, not you, Mr Targaryen. Just Miss (L/N) will do just fine."

Aemond's mouth pressed into a tight line. His lilac eyes glared into his uncle's violet orbs, who only smirked at his nephiew's half-baked challenge.

"Professor, the hour is late. I should very much like to escort (Y/N) to my grandfather's office, as well."

Daemon fought back a bemused snicker. His eyebrows rose at his nephiew's suspense, and the man smirked slightly.

"Exactly, Aemond, the hour is late. Presumably, you both have classes tomorrow, is that correct? You could do with a good night's sleep."

Just like that, the conversation was over. Daemon placed his hand on the girl's back in a soothing manner, guiding her ahead of him with a firm nudge. Aemond, for a while, stood before them, his hand still gripping the dripping end of his elegant feather.

His uncle quirked his head to the side, signaling him to make way and, eventually, he did.

"I'll see you tomorrow at breakfast, Aemond!" The girl assured her friend over her shoulder, throwing him one last dejected look.

Aemond was left alone with his thoughts, feeling more frustrated than ever. He slowly looked down at his fisted hand, and clicked his tongue in irritation.

"Shit."

The ink would leave stains on the inside of his palm.

Breakfast came. And breakfast passed.

Still, there was no trace of the girl in the whole wide hall.

Aemond's stomach felt like it was doing backflips. Seven times he looked over at the Gryffindors table. Seven times he closed his eyes in ire, having failed to spot the strands of her soft, familiar hair.

Perhaps she was in her Common Room.

Endless thoughts about what happened to her surged through his mind. Had his grandfather told her something that upset her? Did she catch a cold while staying in the airy office, with nothing on but her shirt and skirt?

"What are you thinking about?" A velvety voice rang in his ear.

"Hmm."

"If looks could kill, those Gryffindors would be six feet under." Alys laughed softly, brushing her hand with his.

Aemond sighed deeply, and moved his whole body towards the entrance of the Great Hall. Alys quirked up a brow and clicked her tongue in irritation - her emerald eyes ran over his broad back and lean shoulders; she bit her lip in anticipation, as her hands slowly extended to swallow him in a sensual back hug.

But a Gryffindor passed him, and the Targaryen took his chance. Wordlessly, he got up from his table, completely brushing Alys Rivers off, and reached out to him.

"Have you seen (Y/N) (L/N)?" He inquired dryly, sparing no time for any pleasantries.

"Uhh," The 4th year began, scratching his head in confusion, "Not since last night, no. She's probably still in her dorm or something, over-sleeping."

Aemond gave him a curt nod, releasing his tight grip over his forearm.

"Do you know who she shares a room with?" He pestered again. "Are any of the girls still here?"

"Yeah, Celeste. ... She's the blonde girl over there, at the edge of the table."

As the Gryffindor spoke, his hand crept up to point out the direction of (Y/N)'s bunk-mate. Aemond hummed in satisfaction, before brushing past the boy to march over to Celeste's table.

"You're welcome, by the way!" The brave 4th year yelled after him - though his attempt to grab his attention reached nought but deaf ears.

"You're Celeste, right?" Aemond's deep voice rumbled from inside his chest. He completely disregarded the Gryffindors' heated conversation, and instead fixed Celeste with his one good eye.

"In the flesh." She joked cautiously, leaning back in her seat to take a better look at the man before her. "You're Aemond Targaryen, right?" When he gave her a small nod, she smiled, fully satisfied with her discovery.

"Thought I recognised ya from somewhere!" She beamed at him, before taking on a more solemn air. "Can I help you with anything?"

"(Y/N)." Aemond accentuated with a quirked up brow, "She wasn't at breakfast today. Is she okay?"

At his words, Celeste scans the entirety of the cluttered hall, taken aback. She brings her blue eyes on Aemond's form again, and gives him a confused frown.

"Are you sure? When I woke up, her bed was all made up and stuff. She had to have been here."

As she spoke, the girl nibbled on her lower lip.

"Actually... I haven't really seen her since last night. She said she was going to the library to study. I waited for her but then, you know, I fell asleep."

Aemond felt his jaw set tightly. His one eyes went over to the Professors' table, searching frantically for Otto Hightower.

For once in his entire life, his grandfather wasn't there.

Right in the middle of their set assembly, Professor Daemon Targaryen shot him a provocative smirk.

Aemond snarled in retaliation, and climbed up the set of stairs to have a word with his eccentric uncle.

"Professor." He greeted tightly, before barking out in a single breath, "Last night, you took Miss (Y/N) (L/N) to my grandfather's office. Though it appears as if she hasn't yet returned. Since Professor Hightower isn't here himself, I wanted to inquire you on her whereabouts."

Although his sentence was perfectly weighed in both politeness and structure, there was no denying the malice he held in his undertone.

Daemon took great pleasure in it.

"Ah, yes, of course!" He exclaimed in a mocking manner, before taking on a more serious expression. "It may come as a surprise to you, Aemond, but I do not keep tabs on students and their current locations. I can assure you, though, she'll turn up eventually."

He dismissed his nephiew with a bored swish of his robes, bidding his goodbyes with a derisive smile.

"Perhaps you'll see her today at the triwizarding function." Daemon shrugged teasingly, earning a scornful look from both Aemond and his fellow colleagues.

The Slytherin wavered a moment, before he turned on his heel with a hum upon his lips.

His worry only increased with every passing hour he didn't spend in her company. Alys had latched onto him like a leech looking for her next meal, and his patience was running thinner by the minute.

Bets were placed on who will submerge from the waters of the Great Lake first - the noise of the crowd irked Aemond to no end, and her absence only intensified the feeling of dread that was setting inside his stomach.

Daemon had encouraged him to be here. Although his uncle was known to be cruel, he almost never graced people with false leads. Or so Aemond hoped.

His lilac gaze scanned through the floating towers, stopping at any student who resembled (Y/N) - at least barely.

The Targaryen let out a low growl, and decided to set his attention back onto the troubling waters.

He was worrying for nothing, wasn't he? Chances were, (Y/N) was hidden somewhere with her other friends, laughing and eating those awful flavoured jelly beans.

He had nothing to worry. Nothing at all.

And yet, jealousy swirled in his heart, pressing down his chest in a painful manner.

What were the chances that she was avoiding him? That she was sick of him following her around, and just wanted a break for the day?

His insecurity turned his attention back on Alys' blabbering.

"I bet that Borya would emerge first." She joyously told him, basking in the glow that his sharp eyes provided. "There's hardly any other champion more athletically inclined, and you need a lot of stamina to search through the whole lake for an hour."

Aemond's brow twitched at her words, and his whole disposition changed. "They have to search the lake?" He asked, unaware of the trail's circumstances.

Alya offered him a sly smile, and began playing with his robes' ends. She gestured for him to come closer, and leaned on over his shoulder to whisper in his ear.

"You didn't hear this from me, but apparently, all champions have to find something very dear to them deep beneath the lake's waters." She coyly told him, winking playfully as she sat down.

"At least, that's what Adrienne told me when I asked her last night."

Just as she finished her explanation, Oliver Hammer, Hogwarts' champion, emerged from the waters with his girlfriend, tightly joined at his hip.

A rattling thunder of congratulatory applauses could be heard from all around them. Alys pouted cutely, and turned her head to Aemond.

"Awh, that's just bad luck, isn't it? I just lost ten Galleons...!"

But Aemond had long switched his attention to Oliver Hammer. Something inside of him clicked at their sudden appearance, and the younger Targaryen made his way through the sea of people, to get a hold of the boy's damp robe.

"Congratulations, Hammer." He remaked loudly, as to quiet down the people next to them. Violet eyes were met with clashing brown hues, and Slytherin smiled at Slytherin.

"Thank you, Targaryen." He mirrored his formality with a small smirk, "You look tense. Something happened? Did you bet against me and are mad about my flawless victory?"

"Far from it." Aemond assured him, though his impenetrable expression never changed. "I have to ask you: did you spot (Y/N) down there, too?"

Oliver's eyes widened reflexively, and he jerked his head back a notch. Surprise and confusion battled for dominance, until the older boy finally spoke.

"Yeah - she's near the grindylows, about ten yards from here." He coughed into the back of his hand, and allowed the water droplets to pour down his soaked body. "How did you know?"

His question was left unanswered, though, as Aemond Targaryen made his way near the edge of water to glance within it.

"Hey, I wouldn't worry about it! Borya's assigned to her, and I saw him going there the second I left with Maya." Oliver yelled after him, and turned his attention back to his friends and brothers.

Not only was Aemond Targaryen worried sick about his friend, but he was now jealous, too.

If Alys' words rang true in his mind, then Borya cared an awful lot more about his girl than it was allowed to.

The green eyed monster ate away at his restless heart, and the Slytherin's knuckles turned white in their empty grip.

For a second, he wished he'd have written his name in the Goblet of Fire, for a chance to be the one to save her now.

Something was wrong.

Although Oliver had sworn he saw Borya approach (Y/N)'s hiding place the moment he left with Maya, the Durmstrang student was yet to come back up.

Even Adrienne Lavigne got to the bottom of the challenge, dragging her Ravenclaw friend out of the water, with a protective arm around her back.

Aemond felt like a caged dragon. Irritable and in a foul disposition. He glanced at his pocket watch once every two seconds, and walked from one end to the other on the robust ledge.

Where was that Durmstrang idiot...?

His silent prayers were answered when a clump of black hair emerged from the water. Borya had floated above, but there was no sight of the girl he was supposed to bring with him.

His hands reached up into the air, and he waved frantically.

"Help! Something is not right with the chains on (Y/N)'s legs! I can't free her!" He shouted in front of the shocked crowd. "Stones won't budge them, and I lost my wand in the sea of gillyweed!"

Aemond didn't need to hear anything else. With one swift movement, he discarded his robes on the floor and took out his aspen wand.

"Aqua Mensa." He swished it decidedly, and jumped into the water without a second thought.

The pain he felt was excruciating - the fins that grew in the stead of his fingers and legs felt worse than a thousand curses, but Aemond tried to pay it no mind.

Soon, his eye adapted to the depth of the water, and his new gills allowed him to breathe again.

"She's near the grindylows, about ten yards from here." He remembered Oliver say, and he started swimming in the direction he knew the girl must have been.

Surely enough, there she was, surrounded by nothing but algae. Aemond felt his heart stop beating, and a sudden pain carved his heart open at the sight of her seemingly endless sleep.

She looked beautiful. Breath-taking. With her eyes closed, she appeared at peace with herself and others; a small smile played upon her swollen lips, as if she knew a secret that she couldn't share with anyone.

Wasting no time, Aemond clutched his wand tightly, and cut through the iron shackles effortlessly, with just a flick of his wrist.

He engulfed the girl into a deep hug, swimming upwards to the rays of sunlight that peaked above both their heads.

And it could have all ended there, were it not for the grindylows that greatly opposed themselves at the sight of their swift departure. One by one, they rose up from their fields of algae, grabbing onto Aemond's feet, pulling him downwards and biting down on him harshly.

They ripped and tarnished, pulling tiny chunks of flesh from Aemond's body - still, the boy never once falthered. He kept the girl close to his chest, protecting her head and limbs with his own, in an attempt to defend her from the perturbing attacks.

Crimson blood pooled all the way up to where the students resided, and horrified gasps echoed all the way to the Professors' ears.

Aemond's hand reached for his wand, and, with the last of his forces, he hissed out the "Ascendio" spell, giving both bodies the last push necessary to reach to the surface.

Bewildered shouts surrounded them, all from a hundred different corners - while some were of a weird congratulatory nature, most seemed scared out of their minds.

Borya pushed through the crowd of students to glance at the two, and assure himself of both their safety. He gave Aemond a wordless bow, and an apologetic look to the girl still resting in his arms.

An army of Professors gathered around them. The school's nurse, Miss Margelle, let out a terrified gasp at the sight of the Targaryen boy, whose legs were in a most pivital position.

Despite there being no more need for it, Aemond never ceased to keep his arms around (Y/N), protecting her head from the hard, damp ledge and caressing her cheeks lightly.

"You're okay." He confirmed in a gentle whisper, wincing at his own pain. He brushed the hair from the girl's face, and rubbed small circles on the small of her back as she coughed out the excess water.

"A-Aemond...!" She uttered through an attempt to gasp for air, dazed and confused by his presence around her. "The Triwizarding Tournament, I --" She tried to explain, but stopped her wordless questions at the sight of the blood pouring at their feet.

"Aemond, you're bleeding out!!" She shrieked, aghast by the sight in front of her. She placed her hands atop Aemond's in an attempt to soothe and calm him, but the boy let out an airy chuckle.

"I'm fine. Hey, hey, look at me." He searched her gaze with his own, lining her jaw upwards. "I'm okay."

"H-How is this okay to you? You must be in so much pain!" She worriedly told him, feeling her lower lip quiver and eyes well up with tears at the sight of her friend's affliction.

She cast her eyes downwards again, and bit her lip in undoubted stress. Her hands fluttered close to his open wounds, but they stilled above them, unsure how to proceed.

While the two were busy bickering and conversing, Nurse Margelle kneeled down to Aemond's level, pulling out her trusting wand and summoning her first aid kit.

Sensing movement behind his back, the Slytherin shook his head, and placed a hand before his body. "Check (Y/N) first. The grindylows might not have bit her, but she still swallowed a lot of water."

"Are you insane?!" The Gryffindor chastised him with an affectionate look in her eyes. "You're bleeding out on the floor, and you're worried about me? Swallowing water?"

"Sweet water is toxic for the body. And you took more than just a mouthful." He asserted dryly, pushing her before his own needs once again.

"Shut up. Absolutely not."

"It's not up to you to decide." Aemond accentuated definitively.

"And thankfully, neither is it up to you, Mr Targaryen!" Nurse Margelle cut in sharply. Her hawk-like eyes assessed the spots in which Aemond likely took the most damage, and got to work right away. His damp shirt was discarded on the floor, and (Y/N) let out another breathless gasp.

"Merlin's beard, Aemond...!"

"I told you..." He began, before he closed his mouth back, in an attempt to hide a wince, "I feel fine. It doesn't hurt."

"Liar." She whispered back to him, whilst she leaned in to give his cheek an affectionate peck.

For a second, Aemond's cheeks matched the colour of the gnarly wounds on his legs and chest.

"T-Thank you. For coming to save me." She huffed out in a low breath, avoiding to meet his scorching eye.

"... Don't mention it."

If it meant getting kissed like that again, Aemond would gladly relive the day's events a thousand times over.

[sisterkosho]

General Headcanons | Nanako Asano

Notes: So as I mentioned before, I’ve been having a bit of Tokyo Revengers brainrot as of late. And after some consideration, I figured I might as well just start letting it all out on here since the fandom still seems to be somewhat active compared to other sites. With that said, I offer you this little headcanon post centering around OC I’m currently working on. She’s still in the early stages of development so everything here is subject to change (and likely will be rewritten later), but for now I kinda just wanted to share the stuff that’s been floating around my brain as I work on her. Enjoy!

Nanako is a delinquent from the Roppongi district known for being particularly close to the Haitani brothers.

She first met the two when she was just 13 after wandering into territory they claimed was theirs. And while she wasn’t affiliated with any gang at the time, she was clearly a delinquent.

As such, the encounter inevitably led to a fight, and although she held her own surprisingly well given the circumstances of a 2 v 1 against boys clearly stronger than she was, she ultimately lost in the end.

However, perhaps because of her impressive skills in combat or her “natural charisma” as he put it, Ran seemed to take a liking to her over the duration of the fight.

Right then and there, he decided that he wanted to keep her around.

He’d have her join them, and nothing was going to change his mind,

This left Nanako… a bit taken aback, to say the least. It was all so sudden, and it sounded more like a demand than an offer. Just who did this kid think he was anyway???

She was fully prepared to tell him off, but once she actually took a moment to consider it… she realized that maybe it wasn’t such a bad idea.

It may have sounded crazy, but these boys were freakishly strong. So much so that they could easily take over the entire district if they wanted to. In fact, she had no doubt that they would sooner rather than later.

Getting in close with people like that could be the one chance she needed to make it big in the delinquent world, and that… well, that sounded fun.

And considering she did lose a fight against them on their own turf, a part of her felt like it would only be fair to accept. That’s how these kinds of things worked after all.

So from then on, Nanako followed behind them, serving as their right hand. And as expected, it wasn’t long before they had taken over Roppongi.

They became total big shots, and being associated with them gained her quite the reputation amongst delinquents in the area.

After all, the brothers were known for their independence and refusal to be a part of any gang, so for her to have gotten so close to them… she must’ve been something special.

It was thanks to all that that she eventually ended up becoming a part of the S-62 generation on Ran’s recommendation.

A part of her knew that maybe they were going too far by that point, getting involved in things they probably shouldn’t. But she couldn’t bring herself to care.

Even with the way things had turned out, she was happy. She was having fun. But most importantly, she had people she cared about more than anything in the world.

So when it came down to it, she didn’t care what kind of path she went down. She’d follow them anywhere, no matter what.

From Tenjiku to Bonten, she stood by their side. And never once did she regret a thing.

She was having the time of her life, and she wouldn’t trade it for the world no matter how many hardships they faced. Though really, she felt like she had it made most of the time.

To her, the Haitani brothers are like family.

Rindou is like the little brother she never had.

He started calling her “big sis” as a joke, but it ended up sticking.

She goes drinking with him sometimes and it always ends in shenanigans of some sort.

She always takes the fall so he doesn’t get in trouble.

They’ve played tic tac toe on Ran’s forehead on numerous occasions.

Ran calls her “Nana-chan”.

The two had this sort of unspoken thing going on between them for awhile until Rindou started trying to play matchmaker.

He wasn’t the greatest wingman but somehow it worked out.

In both the Bonten arc and the final timeline, Nanako and Ran ended up married.

In the final timeline, she works as a bartender at the Haitani brothers’ club.

[alllinesarebeautiful]

Day 425 Art meditation, August 29, 2024,

”Vote BluePaper Dress of the Tree Ring Art Heart Art Brand Bundle”

Dear You, 

Posting my “Vote Blue” paper dress for my ‘Tree Ring’ Heart Art Brand Bundle!  YAY !!!

It’s 45 days late, but I had some deep, deep stuff to go through. Lots of terrifying honesty and heavy conversations have been happening … Lots of journaling of themes I want to flesh out into book chapters …

It’s a new day. 🙏

The center art piece (much like a logo) of the Vote art is still the abstract tree ring image, but art moves and grows if I stop trying to control it so much. I try to make my idea without over-thinking and see what happens in the stage of it. I am intentionally trying NOT to be perfect.  

Even as I made this dress, I criticized my way through it. Stupid stupid stupid.  The final photos, taken by my in-house photographer G, and who forces me to laugh in the “photoshoot” with his brilliant sense of humor, came out much better than I thought it would.  

The main ideas that I want to convey is what happens to our heart-spaces WHEN we make any kind of art, 

or when we speak up for ourselves, 

or when we vote towards love, 

or when we vote with our Hearts, not our Egos,

or and when we have the courage to stand up for BLUE truth and justice - 

is that our very fragile inner heart space becomes STRONGER, and new ideas come in. 

Love and art creates beautiful things our minds could never have imagined!

The whole point of the Blue Wave right now is to make LOVE bigger. 

And for everything else, let God handle it. And if you don’t believe in God, then all I know is that there will come a moment in your life when you have to face yourself. Honesty has a way of catching up with us…

Two days ago I felt PURE JOY for about 2 minutes. TWO. Although, I will add, last night I made an entire 3 jokes in one night, in part thanks to the big glass of wine, but the fact that I made G laugh so hard, is proof they were good jokes. He only laughs when something is seriously funny. My usual joke rate is once a month, so was this a surge of healing??

This surge of joy made me ponder, I don’t think we know how MUCH we normalize being SUBDUED and JOYLESS.

I want the paper dress to remind us all that there is more joy, love and beauty. No hoarding is necessary. It just isn’t.

If all the men in the world who are creating war-separation-divide, would INSTEAD pick up a glue stick and colorful paper and a scissors, what a different world we would live in. 

This should be a requirement if you want to get into politics. Art has a way of leveling the playing field. Art has a way of reducing your ego, especially since it is one arena where there really are no rules. If you set out to be GREAT, art has a way of having its own will and taking you down a notch. 

For example, I remember when I took my only (blissful) oil painting class at Goshen College as an elective, in a dreamy art department which was a big sunny loft. My final project was to paint “like” an artist I admired. I picked Henri Matisse, and wanted to paint something like his Blue Nude.

What came out was so hideous. I remember being shocked, because some of Matisee’s art looks so easy to recreate / copy, I thought I would easily be able to recreate the joy Matisse creates in my heart. I still got a 90% grade, but I thought that was generous. It took a serious notch out of my ego. I wish I still had it and could show you. 

The point, which I get now, and I could not understand 35 years ago, is that we ARE as unique as the art and heart-ideas that come with each of us. So, again, no stealing, or dominating, or hoarding is necessary. 

My father loved the hideous stuff I made for that art class, plus the 2 art classes I took in high school. A few years ago I threw it all away, which is a shame, I realize now, but that’s my critical brain at work!

Now that this first paper dress is done, I can feel a kind of contentment, which I always try to remember this feeling and not let my sticky mind go backwards. Heart-space expansion!

Sending oodles of love,

Anne ◎

Ⓒ 2024 Anne Hunsicker | All Lines Are Beautiful. All rights reserved.

[truly-morgan]

[Age Swap, Mob makes Reigen wear feminine outfits]

MobRei | Mob Psycho 100 Age Swap AU + cw: dubcon 14-05-2023

[Age Swap #mobrei, force fem, dubcon, Mob is not a good adult, 1630]

Reigen had noticed how weird his shisho had been acting lately. Or well, how odd some of his “plans” and request had been for different jobs.

yet he felt like it was all partly his fault.

When he was thinking about it, he was pretty sure it all started when they got that one job at the all-girl school.

He could still remember the way Mob had frozen in place when he came out in the girl's uniform to tell him about his plan. The way he had eyed him up and down, although he had chucked it all to his shisho being a bit awkward in general. Maybe he simply had not known how to react to the situation.

But now, Reigen was certain that it wasn’t just awkwardness. There had been more.

Throughout their day, as they went to the school as a “daughter-step-father” pair for the teacher-parent meeting that was happening at the same time, he notice how much more touchy his shisho had been. Nothing inappropriate, but still odd coming from a man who seemed to cringe at the simple idea of a handshake.

Since then, Reigen had found himself /many times/ playing a girly part, having to wear feminine outfits for a job. “People let their guard down more around a young girl than a mischievous boy” Mob had told him as he helped style his hair.

Reigen felt like this was bullshit.

But he always allowed it. he felt a bit scared that if he refused, Mob would simply not take him with him on the job.

Plus he felt like it should be somewhat alright since it only happened for Jobs, where he could easily slip into a character. It wasn’t like his shisho was forcing him to wear feminine clothing just for the kicks of seeing him in them.

But the more time went on, the more some parts of the outfit felt too… inappropriate and pushed. Why were panties and bras added to the clothes bag? He felt too embarrassed to put them on when he first saw them, but then Mob commented about it and Reigen felt like he /had/ to put them on.

Plus the only times his shisho would initiate any kind of touches were when he would dress up. This somewhat made him feel like he needed to do as told.

He was craving for the surprisingly warm hand resting on his should, sometimes settling on his lower back. He had felt thrilled when Mob even allowed him to hold his hand discreetly on the train when they were back from a job.

But this time it just felt all really /too much/.

It was an extended weekend due to holiday and Reigen had joined Mob on a out of town job that would require them to stay at an inn. Said inn had apparently been losing business because of some spirits and they had called for Mob to clean the whole place.

they were already unlucky enough to be caught in the rain on the way there. Reigen had felt a bit impatient to get to their room so he could take a shower and change into some dry clothes.

He had /not/ expected for all his clothes to just vanish and be replaced with feminine clothes, down to the underwear.

He had eyed his shisho suspiciously, even though the man looked like he had just come out of a shower too (he had likely borrowed from one of the many empty rooms). But he couldn't just go around in a towel, nor would any of his shisho's clothes fit him (he would feel embarrassed to walk around with only an oversized shirt one).

"Something's wrong Arataka?" Mob asked as he finished drying his hair, coming closer to where Reigen was standing looking into his bag.

"all... all my clothes are gone?!" he said, flipping his bag over to let the content fall on the bed. It only showed him even more that everything he had was indeed feminine clothing.

"The owner did talk about spirit messing with client's luggage" Mob hummed as he picked up a skirt from the pill on clothing. "I suppose we will try and look out for your clothes while we search for those spirits".

And that was it, nothing more, nothing less. No suggestion of finding him something else. And Reigen felt a bit unsure about asking if they could go buy him something, /anything/, because he didn't want to be a bother to his shisho.

So he was forced to pick from those clothes. He felt a bit weird about how everything seemed to fit him so perfectly. Surely spirits wouldn't know his sizing...

He tried ignoring the odd look he would get from employees as they explored the empty inn. had he not been told earlier that they were a small handful of other guests he would have assumed they were the only one here.

Reigen was certain that he would have loved to explore the place, were he not so self-conscious about the /very short/ length of the skirt. He had worn a skirt many times now, but never anything that felt so short. He was certain that if he bent over his ass would be in full display.

And he would rather die than anyone see the cute panties he had to wear. They were the most neutral, even though they still had some lacy SEE-TRHOUGH parts. but they were all like this.

"Careful Arataka" Mob said as he pulled him closer, a large hand slipping under the hem of his shirt and directly touching his skin. This sent a shiver down his spine, something in his gut feeling warm at the sudden touch. He would have jolted away were the grip not so strong around him.

"You nearly bumped against the pillar" Mob said when he Reigen looked at him confused and somewhat red in the face.

The day went on like this. Reigen was careful of how he would move. Mob is surprisingly touchy. Barely actually finding what the problems even were.

When night came Reigen waited for his shisho to go out and get them some food to go through his bag.

SURELY the man was the one who had swapped his clothes, he couldn't have just /thrown them out/.

Yet he couldn't find anything aside from Mob's possessions and own clothing. Still, Reigen had the odd impression that the bag was less filled than when his shisho had first arrived here.

"It's not very polite to go through people's luggage, Arataka"

He heard being said right behind him, making him nearly jump out of his own skin. He whipped around, finding his Shisho standing barely a meter behind him, some takeout box placed behind him on the table.

Reigen decided that he was tired of this game. He felt utterly embarrassed to have to parade around like this. Was his shisho trying to humiliate him?

"I was looking for my clothes" he stated, trying to sound confident.

"In my bag?" Mob asked with an arched brow, "I can assure you they aren't in there, I can show you". It didn't take a moment before everything within the bag was neatly floating in the air, showing that indeed, none of these were Reigen's.

"I-I know it has to be you!!" Reigen said as he watched his shisho walk to the bed so he could properly place everything back into the bag and set it back on the ground.

"Why would I steal your clothing?" he then asked, sitting on the side of the bed.

Reigen was starting to feel really frustrated that his shisho was playing stupid right now. He was usually so honest about things, to the point of being blunt at times, why was he always so weird about /this/.

"You've been making weird requests all this time!" Reigen said in frustration, "You dress me up in girl costume all the time and I feel like I don't have a choice to do it or else you'll... you'll just leave me behind" he stated. "Why are you playing with me like this, is it that fun to see just how far I'll listen to you?" he then

asked, voice sounding tight. He couldn't look at his shisho. He hadn't meant to get mad at him like this, but he really felt like the man was just playing with him. He felt like there was maybe something more behind it all, but he somehow felt a bit scared of what this would mean too.

He didn't look either when he felt a hand gently grab his, pulling him softly closer so he could be standing in front of his shisho. "I am not playing with you Arataka, I promise" Mob assured, sounding so sincere, tone apologetic even. "I thought you looked so beautiful and cute in those outfits, seeing how you always accept I assumed you also enjoyed it" he explained, although the later part didn't sound as sincere. "Even right now, you look very pretty, Arataka".

Reigen couldn't help but yelp a little bit when he was pulled even closer, ending up in his shisho's lap, straddling him. "I think this skirt fits your very well" Mob continued, hand resting low on his hips, thumb caressing the skin just above the waistband of said skirt.

"and that top also looks very cute on you, the colour suits you very well" he continued, a hand sliding up his side a little bit, finger brushing softly against his skin.

Reigen couldn't help now but squirm slightly into Mob's lap.

here it was again, the weird feeling building up in his stomach at his shisho's comment and touch.

"I am sure you would look very pretty with thigh-high socks, they would hug and accentuate your leg very well" he added, his other hand sliding lower, directly touching the skin of his left thigh now.

Reigen was starting to feel overwhelmed by the situation, unsure what to do with all this attention, the look in his shisho's eyes while looking at him, was something familiar yet also more open than it was before. By the way, he was feeling about all of this, the emotion it was stirring within him that scared him. The way his touches made him feel, the way he knew Mob /shouldn't/ be touching him like this. The way he /didn't/ want him to stop tho.

He quickly grabbed Mob's wrist as his finger had barely slipped under his skirt, making the man freeze fully under his touch.

They stayed like this, in the quiet of the room, only broken by their uneven breathing, something Reigen only noticed now that his shisho wasn't talking anymore.

"I-I am hungry" he then stated, straightening up.

This seemed to snap the man out of whatever mindset he had been into before, hands suddenly pulled away from Reigen. He still offered him a little smile, "I went and got some ramen, the kind that you like" Mob told him, "hopefully they haven't gotten cold yet" he then commented.

Reigen nodded to this, stiffly getting off of the man's lap. He went to the table ready to eat the noodles the man had bought for them. He couldn't help but smile when he noticed that his bowl had everything he liked to add to his ramen.

Despite the ramen being so good, he couldn't get rid of the weird fluttering feeling in his guts.

His shisho had truly done something to him.

Original

[skylermadness]

Subcontracted (Itzamna TF/MC)

(Original Date of Upload: July 12, 2023)

Original Description:

A random story of mine I wrote a couple weeks back but never got to uploading until now. Laziness I guess. I mainly wrote this out because I was in a rut at the time and needed to write something to get myself in the groove of things. As a result I just wanted to write something short and not very intense in regards to what is going on and such. Plus the Guild/Affiliation feature was added to Housamo at the time and I really gravitated towards the phrasing of one of the items (whose description I used in the introduction of this story)! Funnily enough I think the Akihabara Creators are probably one of my favorite Guilds in the game. Although I had trouble deciding which of the Creators I wanted to do a TF on. The main split was between Tindalos, Itzamna, and Catoblepas, but Itzamna ended up winning out after I asked a few of my friends some stuff. Plus I feel like there's already so many Tindalos TFs; and Catoblepas wasn't that much of a mood for me at the time. So here we are! Although I might do something on Tindalos one day. I have gotten a few silly ideas in mind before... Lastly, this may be my first in-universe style TF I think I've uploaded! In-universe TFs admittedly aren't my biggest expertise, especially since they can get complicated to deal with from a storytelling standpoint. But honestly Housamo has so much going on that in-universe stuff is a bit easily to handle with it. Plus it meant I could use one of the Protagonist-types as the TFee here! In this case it's MC3. Either way, was very fun to write out. I still hope to do a lot more Housamo TFs in the future!~ ...also what species of lizard is Itzamna-

   'This contract serves as a binding agreement of temporary guild membership. Your signature signifies that the undersigned has delegated their original guild responsibilities to one of their guildmates for the time being while they themselves are temporarily recognized as an official member of the listed guild.'

   Rhys had found himself eyeing the terms and services of the contract for about… twenty minutes, was it? It felt like an eternity honestly. The behind the scenes of all the interguild stuff tends to be, though. One of the downsides of having to be the Guild Master to the Shinjuku Summoners.

   Then again, it wasn't the worst thing to think about when it came to him.

   He leans back in his seat and lets out a sigh, casually eyeing the bunker that the Summoners Guild happily call their base. With all the chaos happening between the triad calling themselves the True Guilds, it's unsurprising that a lot of the smaller guilds had found themselves creating a form of interguild alliance to fight the looming threat. It would surprise someone like Rhys, who had a lot of contacts between the fourteen or so guilds he's had contact with so far. But after the incident with the Genociders, along with all the threats that occurred after that thanks to both the Warmongers and Invaders guilds, it'd be kind of stupid not to band together simply out of survival.

   …survival.

   He leans back in and stares at the contract again. It's no doubt that the last true Guild, the Rule Makers, are planning their next move. And of course there's no doubt he'll be involved. With this in mind, a plan was developed amongst the Summoners (well, mostly Shiro) in order to stall the inevitable that was the World Representatives hunting him down to do who knows what. Admittedly it was a repeat of their plan back during the whole DOXing incident, that being having Rhys lie low with another Guild for a while. But, well, it did work that time… mostly…

   Well that's why they said it's a stalling tactic more than anything!

   The main thing that's left Rhys stumped was which Guild he'd even temporarily switch over to. The Berserkers, Missionaries, and Tycoons were a no-go due to their already noticeable prominence in the war behind Tokyo. The Outlaws and Gurus would be good choices if they were still outside the events of the Game. The Beast Tamers are too close in proximity to the Rule Makers, and the Wanderers are too close in combat.

   That only left the two guilds in what could be considered neutral zones: the Crafters in Kamata, and the Creators in Akihabara.

   The Crafters would be a good choice, but it seems evident that if a Guild wants something they'll ignore the neutral territory system. And considering how recent the incident in Shinagawa was, Rhys would rather not have to deal with being close to Invaders territory that easily for the time being.

   Then again, the Creators aren't really the best option either. Especially considering the fact their Guild Master works for the Invaders. Then again, Rhys definitely recalls the fact that said Guild Master barely kept track with the Guild itself, if at all. And considering how the Creators function, it'd be way too easy to forge another alternative identity for a short amount of time. 

   Then again, Curren did find him the last time and-

   Rhys cut his thoughts off there. Stalling for time, that's all this was meant to be. And between the Crafters and the Creators, the latter was the least risky for the time being. At least that's what he'd hope would be the case. 

   Softly exhaling, Rhys signed his name on the contract alongside the name of the Guild he was subcontracting himself out to. With that out the way, he clicked his pen shut and sat back in his chair again. Not really relieved, mainly just glad to get that out the way so the Summoners could plan out their next step. They could probably get in contact with Catoblepas tomorrow and…

   A soft itch entered his face as he thought, causing Rhys to raise up a hand and scratch it. His mind momentarily diverged as he felt a few bits of scruff beneath his fingers. Had he forgotten to shave that day…?

   In truth, and currently going unnoticed to Rhys, the suspiciously appearing stubble was a byproduct of some hairs starting to grow on his face. Soft and… white hairs.

   At the same time a swath of changes began entering his hands as well, although these were more noticeable and more rapid in formation. It started out with his nails thinning out and lengthening. The tips were sharpening at the same time, curling out over the tips of fingers. A red tone then seeped into the back of his hands, the prominent star-shaped mark on his right hand seeming to fade beneath the new hue. At the same time the fronts of both lightened to an ivory coloration as well. The size of both were also subtly increasing in size, gaining a few more centimeters in size.

   His skin was also shifting alongside these changes, softness becoming lost as the backs grew increasingly harder, the newly forming redness being a byproduct of their transformation into thick scales. Deeper red plate-like scales had also bubbled out the back of each finger and hand, a lot harder and more noticeable. All the while a softer type of scaling was what became of the skin atop his palms, giving them a much rougher texture.

   The sea of scales cascaded upwards, moving past his wrists rather quickly. Following not far behind were the almost hexagonal-shaped scute plating, emerging from the tops of each arm. As the reds and creams consumed his arm the already established muscle mass that Rhys possessed seemed to alter slightly. While his arms were already bulky they only seemed to get slightly larger and longer in size. Meanwhile the muscle mass within them seems to diminish slightly, losing its more significant tone.

   Despite that there was still a level of muscularity still remaining within each arm, his biceps and triceps still slightly stretching out the rolled up sleeves of his button-up. The scales would soon run beneath the sleeves with the scutes not far behind. And as it went beyond his deltoids and reached his shoulders, a more drastic set of changes entered his form with the scales moving closer towards his neck. A certain broadness was steadily entering his frame with a level of thickness beginning to insert itself within his neck.

   Rhys let out a deep grunt as one hand continued to scratch at his stubble, the hairs still seeming to be slowly getting longer. Meanwhile his other hand seemed to slip down to his neck and started scratching that region as well, the man noting that a level of toughness was entering his skin. 

   "Damn it, why am I so… itchy?" he inquires to himself. His mind blanks for a second before a random thought comes back. "Perhaps I need to wash out my scales… better…"

   His mind was starting to feel a little bogged down by a haze. Scales? Did he have those?? He's human, he doesn't have scales. He then stops scratching his face for a moment and lowers his arm, instantly proving his affirmations wrong.

   "I…" he then stops scratching his neck and places the other hand on his head instead, his hazy feeling in his mind intensifying. "Nngh, feeling… strange…" he croaked out, his voice deepening for a moment near the end. His eyes stayed fixed on the one unoccupied hand however. Scales… Rhys was in a paradox of it feeling so wrong and yet so… right.

   While Rhys pondered, the changes within his skin and body remained persistent. Especially as both halves reached a point of convergence on his torso. The flush of red and formation of scutes etched their way across his widening shoulders and broadening back. Meanwhile the softer cream tone of scales slowly made their way across his thickening front.

   The buttons of his shirt were straining as his form was widened, and this straining only grew in intensity as his torso shifted. His thick pectorals getting thicker, size bulking up with significant mass that they pushed into the fabric of his shirt. But it wasn't long before a second change started to enter into them with fat steadily accumulating above the muscle and causing his pecs to soften. They still attempted to squeeze into his shirt, but it seemed the extra addition to his chest caused a button to snap off and reveal the newly changed set of pectorals.

   It appeared this scattering of buttons only progressed, his shirt increasingly unable to contain his increasing size. Plastic softly pinged against the table and wall, an event being caused by his swelling abdomen. His six-pack set of abs were easily getting subsumed by fat, and that fat only got more and more prevalent as his gut grew thicker. Rounder. A significantly plumper physique in comparison to his previous body type.

   Another chorus of clothing destruction soon followed as soft, sequential rips pierced from directly behind Rhys. While bits of his shirt were already tearing against his broader lat muscles, it appeared that a small set of sharp and rigid protrusions were emerging from the middle of his back and piercing his shirt. They seemed to be relatively short spines, not unlike those that might be on a lizard, and it seemed their size only steadily grew as they moved upwards towards his neck and downwards towards his rear.

   Rhys groaned a bit, standing up from his seat with a hand placed on the table to support him. The hand he was staring at had fallen to his belly, softly squeezing the fat while feeling the scales that had overtaken it. His mind felt like a vortex of entropy, constantly confused and warped as he was unable to grasp what was going on. It didn't really leave him feeling panicked, but it did cause an immense amount of bewilderment. Humanity only felt far behind him as his mind twisted and turned, as his hand brushed against his scales and his eyes laid on his thick claws and shining scutes. A fragment of him still felt like they were not his and yet a more prominent thought pattern was overtaking that.

   And then, for a moment, Rhys' thoughts were broken as he felt a massive pressure begin to well up behind him. The chair that he had only just got up from got pushed back a bit as one of his feet knocked into it. Something was swelling from the base of his spine, and it felt unable to escape the confines of his pants as it persistently pressured up against them. Seconds pressed on as he gripped onto the table, claws digging into the wood. All his feelings of itchiness and bloating subsided as the only thing that mattered was this constantly increasing pressure behind him.

   Another rip pierced the air as the undergarments he wore seemed to tear, the steadily increasing pressure appearing to manifest as a bump that was increasing in size each passing second. And increase it did, getting bigger and bigger, growing more and more visible in the fabric of his pants. Rhys could only grunt as he felt it continuously build up until…

   Shrrp! Crash-

    A massive tear emanates from behind him, the chair that was there being knocked back into the opposing wall as well. The cause of this was a massive tail that had burst from Rhys' rear. It was long and starts off chunky while steadily thinning out the closer you get to the top. Scales like those all over his body covered the tail: rough and red on top while the bottom was cream tone. Multiple spines not unlike those on his back also adorned the top of the new limb as well.

   The changing man let out an almost euphoric sigh of relief at the feeling of his tail escape from his behind. He could even sense it slowly moving around, with him already feeling like he could easily control it as if it was his. It was his, right? It had to be…

   A couple more sounds of rippage emanate from around his waist shortly after, his girth inevitably increasing and causing the button to snap off his pants while his belt splits apart. The cream-colored scales continued to rush downwards, steadily beginning to shift positions as they moved to cascade down the back of his legs while the red scales took over the front.

   As more hard scutes thickened out from his legs, the muscles within them were doing their own thickening. His legwear was filling out as the musculature in his legs increased. Creases forming within the fabric as his thighs bulked up, quads and hamstrings growing in conjunction with each other. The overall wideness of his legs only became more prevalent as well, especially as things ran closer down to his feet. The crus of his legs broadened and the bones within his legs extended slightly, both vertically and horizontally. A certain level of strength had entered them as they grew more accustomed to holding up his new bodyweight, especially the massive tail that he now sported. 

   His shoes didn't get much time to resist as the widening of the circumference of his legs also prompted an increase of his foot size as well. Both of his footwear had only moments to try to contain his feet only for the sides to split apart after mere seconds, the toecap tearing just moments later. The golden buckle that held the shoes together seemed to creak and rupture as the shape of his feet bulged and shifted. Two of his outer toes merged together into a single one while the big toe moved positions, steadily pushing itself outwards and to the side. The size of his toes practically doubled as they grew into thick, almost sausage-sized masses. All the while the bridge of both feet swelled as the red scales made their way down and overtook both of them. Their shape lost all association with that of a human's foot, now appearing to look more like that of a lizard's. This only got solidified by the toenails transforming, growing outwards and curling into claws like his fingernails had done earlier.

   Rhys took a couple steps away from the table, unconsciously making sure to move his tail around in order to maneuver properly. He could feel his shirt stretch out a bit more as his neck thickened into a more trunk-like size, and it seemed to push his head a bit higher than it was before. 

   All the while his thoughts spiraled. All the stress and worries regarding his future in this city were being muddled, buried, and replaced with a different interpretation of the world. Of himself.

   "U-urgh, how… late is it…?" he asks himself, voice only prominently growing deeper than it was before. It was also developing a wisened tone of significant age within it.

   This was followed by another mixture of itches and pressure wracking his skull. Rhys raised a claw hand and scratched away again with his only reaction being, "I… really need to wash my scales better, eh?"

   Arising from his neck first was the swatch of cream scales, which steadily encompassed his lower jaw. The stubble that had formed on his face, some of the earliest changes he had garnered, had already reached a somewhat significant length as bits of it spiked out from his chin. More facial hair had found its way growing out the sides of his face as well, fluffing up and curling upwards as it steadily halted its growth. In sharp contrast, the red colored scales were moving up from the back of his neck. Clumps of black hair steadily shaved off as the scales took their territory. The itchiness started growing more prominent in that area as a result, causing him to scratch his scalp and slough off more and more hair. He didn't seem to notice though, as the hair faded from existence a few moments from falling off his head.

   Concurrently, the shape of his head was changing. His face pushing out into a muzzle, jawline rounding out a bit as his face pushed forward more and more. As it did so, his nose sunk into it until all that was left was nostrils at the muzzle's tip. His lower jaw steadily reshaped itself to allow a couple of his sharpening teeth to poke out from it. And as the scales moved forwards to the ends of his muzzle, one stringy whisker emerged from each side of the muzzle and lengthened, continuously doing so at a rapid rate for a couple seconds before stopping at a rather tremendous length.

   After about a minute or so everything was beginning to settle with the last fragments of the physical transformation settling within Rhys' face. His eyebrows lost their hair as the brow ridges themselves jutted outwards into a more triangular shape. His ears rapidly shrunk away until all that was left would be small holes used for auditory input. And with all his hair gone, a set of lengthy spines like the ones of his back made their way up his neck's behind before stopping a quarter of the way into his scalp.

   All that had seemed to visibly remain of his former self was his clothing, but not even that seemed to be staying for much longer. His button-up was the first to change, its rips and tears restitching together as its size increased to much better fit his body. The material of it appeared to change, white cotton slowly shifting to a brown wool. As it did so the sleeves unfurled until they reached his hands, and the split the shirt originally possessed sealed as the buttons and eyelets closed into the changing fabric. The shirt's collar shrunk away with the neck itself deepening to a V-shape. The outline of the neck, alongside the cuffs of the sleeves, gained a separate ridged wale texture to them that differentiated them from the rest of what was now a sweater. Lastly came a set of designs on the upper arms of the sleeves, darker browns composing a geometric flower-like design that was sandwiched between two bars and wrapped around once on each arm.

   Shortly after that another layer of fabric began manifesting beneath the sweater. Darker brown in coloration, equally long sleeves, very noticeable some kind of button-up as a collar arose and went around his neck while the two front panels of it poked out from the bottom. As the shirt buttoned itself up to the collar, a string-like object emerged from beneath the collar and gently wrapped around his neck while a red elliptoid gem manifested to finish the wrapping off, giving him a fancy looking bolo tie.

   The changes to his pants were a bit less complex. The material hardened to a denim while the gray coloration lightened to a blue. The legwear lengthened a bit, and the back of them repaired itself as it stitched to create a massive tail hole for his new tail. By the end of their changes, they had become a fairly accommodating pair of blue jeans. However the remains of his footwear underwent a more significant transformation, the torn up remains stretching wrapping around his feet in mere seconds. The brown leather retained its coloration, although its material seemed to alter a bit to something softer. The wrecked buckle fixed and softened as well, becoming a set of strings for the shifting footwear. Perhaps the most different change was the extra toecap though, wrapped around his dew claws and completing his new set of loafers.

   The newly manifested lizard blinked his eyes, white sclera changing to golf while both pupils became slits. Memories and thought processes and perceptions were ending their shifts as everything was grinding to a halt. His own name seemed to change in his mind as it changed to fit this new identity.

   Itzamna…

   Itzamna finally comes to, a slight haze still evident in the older reptile's mind. "Mmph, did I stay up late grading again…?"

   He then looks around, slowly coming to the realization that this isn't his abode. It did have a sense of familiarity at first, but that sense was evidently fleeting the longer he stood there. Although there was a part of him saying this appeared to be a Guild Bunker of some kind. Although it was definitely different from the one the Akihabara Creators were supplied with.

   "Now how did I get myself here?" he said with a hum. He tried to recall the last thing he did before waking up here but his mind was a bit too bogged to properly get something back. Guess he'd just have to find the nearest exit and walk himself back home then.

   With that in mind the anthropomorphic reptile began his search for the bunker's exit, unaware of the events that had ensued to bring him here. He was also left oblivious to the paper that had sat on the table that was just a few inches away from him, said paper now possessing an unnoticed sentence written beneath the signature line.

   'With your signature, your transfer as a member of the selected guild will last a maximum of one month.'

   …and with that, Rhys' one month journey as a member of the Akihabara Creators began.

[sweeter-innocence-fics]

You Brought Your Worst and I’m Right Here - Chapter Ten: You've got it made

Pairing: Gale of Waterdeep x female Tav

Work Summary:

After an explosive falling out between Gale and his academic adviser, Mystra, Tav is left to pick up the pieces.

Modern/College AU.

Chapters: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 Epilogue

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 4921

Read on AO3.

Masterlists.

Taglist: @mrs-kai-anderson @ang3l1te @missryerye

Taglist info

Previous Chapter

Notes:

it's a big'un

---

News of Mystra’s arrest spread through the town like wildfire. Tav received numerous texts from friends and acquaintances asking if it was true. She kept tight-lipped about it. Gale was already the subject of enough gossip as it was, now that rumours of his relationship with Mystra were starting to spread.

Tav had no idea how it had gotten out, but it didn’t surprise her. The dean hadn’t all seemed that concerned about protecting Gale’s privacy.

It made her angry, but Gale just shrugged it off. “One way or another, people are going to find out eventually.”

Come Monday, Gale was called back into the dean’s office to discuss the situation. Tav waited outside, as she’d done before, her hands curled into anxious fists in her lap.

She had hoped for good news, but when Gale stepped out of the office, he just looked tired.

“What? What is it?” she asked.

“They’ve put her on probation while they investigate the issue,” he said.

“But…” Instinctively, Tav’s hand went to her throat. “Her arrest?”

“She wasn’t charged with anything. She’s got good lawyers.”

For the first time since Mystra had come to their house, her firing didn’t seem like a sure thing. Tav swallowed hard. Her throat still hurt every time she did so.

“Do you need a lawyer?” she asked. Although Astarion had alluded to legal consequences for the university, it was the first time Tav had considered it.

“My mother has been speaking to our family’s lawyer. I didn’t want to involve him in this but I may have to.” It was times like these that Tav remembered that Gale came from money. It was easy to forget when he was just Gale, the ridiculous, brilliant, handsome young man that she lived with, that he was also Gale Dekarios, whose family had a lawyer.

He slipped his hand into hers and squeezed. Handholding was becoming more and more common for them these days. It just felt natural. Tav didn’t quite know what to make of it.

“You ready to go home?” he asked.

“Absolutely.”

*

The university was dragging its feet. As exam time drew closer, Tav found herself growing more and more agitated at their refusal to fire Mystra. She was still on probation, but she hadn’t even been suspended, which meant that she was still on campus.

Tav saw her sometimes, and she always felt an anxious twist in her gut whenever their eyes met. She couldn’t imagine how Gale felt.

She wished that she had done more than just punch Mystra in her face. It embarrassed her how easily the other woman had overpowered her, but Gale had told her afterwards that Mystra was a black belt, so it was no surprise. That was just another thing to make her anxious.

For the time being, her and Gale had agreed to forget about Mystra and get their heads down studying. Tav was pretty sure she would’ve failed all her exams if he hadn’t been for him forcing her to study with him. Even though chemistry wasn’t his speciality, he knew enough to ask her reasonable questions to test her knowledge, and to listen to her explanations of the concepts she needed to understand.

By her last exam, she was dead on her feet. Gale seemed much the same. He had been holding it together during exam season, but as soon as it was over, the façade cracked. She had pretended not to notice his tears as they curled up together in her bed watching a movie, but she took his hand between her own.

“I’ve been thinking,” he said as the credits began to roll, and then trailed off.

Tav’s eyelids were starting to get heavy, so she propped herself up on her elbow. “About what?”

“About applying for PhD programmes at different universities. I know I had my heart set on staying here but this place feels… tainted, now.”

Tav regarded him, trying to read his expression. The light in the room was dim, but she could still just about make out his features.

“It can’t hurt to look into other options,” she said slowly. “But I also don’t think you should let Mystra push you away from this place if you think it’s the best option. She’s taken enough from you.”

Gale huffed out a laugh. “Mystra was the main reason I wanted to study here in the first place.” Tav frowned, but said nothing. “I wanted to study under her. I did, and it wasn’t all it was cracked up to be.” He shrugged. “But there are some pretty interesting programmes in other cities.”

Tav reached over and touched his face. His tears had dried, but she still swiped her thumb under his eye as if wiping one away.

“I’m proud of you,” she said. “For breaking away from her. And I think you should do whatever feels right to you.”

Gale caught her hand and squeezed. “It would probably mean taking a year out. But that’s fine. It might be good for me to live a little before diving into more academia. Thank you for believing in me.”

*

This year had been hard. A couple of months had passed since Gale had reported Mystra to the dean. To Tav’s surprise, she found Gale waiting for her outside her chemistry lab one Friday afternoon. He was practically vibrating with excitement.

“Gale? What are you doing here?”

“They fired her.” His face split into a grin.

“Mystra?” she asked, as if he could possibly be referring to anyone else.

“The very same.”

The laugh burst out of her suddenly, and then he was wrapping her up in his arms and lifting her off her feet. Other students were walking past and giving them the side-eye, but Tav didn’t care. Her heart was thundering in her chest.

When he set her down, she took a moment to catch her breath. He was beaming at her in a way that made it hard to.

“Why now?” she asked.

“I’m not really supposed to know this but about a week ago, another student came forward. It was the straw that broke the camel’s back.”

“God, Gale,” she said, grabbing his hands. “I’m so glad it’s over. We should celebrate.”

“Oh, I’m way ahead of you there. Wyll is getting the gang together and Astarion is sourcing the booze. You ready to go?”

“I need to drop my labcoat and glassware off in my locker, but then I will be.”

“Great, I promised I’d pick up some snacks from the supermarket on the way back.”

*

By the time the two of them made it home, Shadowheart and Astarion were fully in party set-up mode. They’d also clearly been pre-drinking, but neither Gale nor Tav commented on that.

“I need to shower,” said Tav. “I smell like acetone.”

“Really? I thought you smelt quite nice actually,” said Gale. She felt her face flush. Looking away from Gale, she caught Shadowheart’s eye, who raised her eyebrows at her.

“Text me when you’re done,” said Shadowheart. “I need help choosing my outfit.”

“Why are you asking Tav for outfit advice when I’m right here- Oof.” She cut Astarion off with an elbow to the gut and a look that Tav didn’t understand the significance of.

Once Tav had showered, it became clear very quickly that when Shadowheart said that she needed help choosing her outfit, what she actually meant was that she wanted to dress Tav up like a doll.

“I don’t see the point of all this,” said Tav as Shadowheart threw another dress at her. “It’s just a house party with friends. I’m going to be so overdressed.”

“This is a party for Gale,” said Shadowheart, grinning at her. “Don’t you want to dress up nice for Gale?”

Tav flushed. “Don’t make fun of me.”

“I’m not! He likes you! Haven’t you noticed the way he looks at you?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. Didn’t you see what his ex looks like? I can’t compete.”

Shadowheart scoffed. “You didn’t see the look on his face when you punched Mystryl. He looked like he wanted to take a bite out of you.”

Tav’s skin felt hot. “You’re being ridiculous,” she said.

Shadowheart ignored her. “Try this. It really emphasizes your boobs.”

In spite of herself, Tav found that she had to agree. The dark blue low-cut dress hugged her curves flatteringly. She wasn’t the most self-confident person but even she thought she looked hot.

“Wear these.” Shadowheart tossed a pair of fishnet tights at her.

“Are you trying to turn me into a goth?”

“Goths are hot. Trust me. Gale won’t be able to take his eyes off you.”

Tav rolled her eyes, but sat down on the bed to start pulling her tights on. She had to admit that the overall effect was quite striking. She even let Shadowheart do her make-up, on the proviso that she wouldn’t lean too hard into her emo aesthetic. Shadowheart had cackled in response.

*

Gale first became aware that Tav had come back downstairs Karlach gave a long, drawn-out wolf-whistle. He turned to look at Tav, and almost dropped his drink.

She looked positively delectable in her figure-hugging, low-cut dress. She was blushing at Karlach’s attention, covering her mouth with one hand. For a moment, his mind conjured up an image of sliding his hand up her skirt, feeling those fishnet tights before he snapped himself out of it.

“Are you alright, Gale?” Astarion’s voice came from beside him. He looked very amused as Gale tried to pretend he hadn’t just been staring at Tav.

“I’m perfectly fine. Good, even. It’s a good day.”

“It could get better.” Astarion nudged him in Tav’s direction. Gale turned to scold him, but he had already walked away.

Gale drained his drink for courage, and then walked over to Tav, who was pouring herself a rum and coke.

“Hey,” he said, and then, with the strength of the alcohol swirling around in his veins, “I’d be remiss if I didn’t say that you look utterly, devastatingly gorgeous tonight.” He watched the colour rise in her cheeks with a sense of satisfaction. She tucked a lock of hair behind her ear; a nervous habit of hers that he’d noticed.

“You really think so?”

“Tav, you’re beautiful. If you’re surprised by me saying it now then I’ve been really doing you a disservice by not saying it often enough. So I’ll start now: you’re beautiful.”

“So are you.” She wasn’t quite meeting his eye, embarrassment evident on her face. Part of him wanted to take her face into his hand and make her look at him.

“You really think so?” he parroted back to her.

Admittedly, he hadn’t put nearly as much effort into his appearance tonight as she had, but the compliment still warmed him. He was only human, after all. He wanted to hear her say it again.

“Of course I do,” she said. “You know I do.”

Gale wanted to ask what she meant by that, but unfortunately, that was the moment that Lia, Cal and Rolan chose to arrive, and Gale watched Tav get whisked away into conversation with some of their friends. It was an hour before he caught up with her again.

She seemed pretty tipsy now. Her and Jen were spinning each other around on the makeshift dancefloor, where the coffee table usually stood. Their hands slipped, and Tav went careening off right into Gale. He’d seen her coming so opened his arms to catch her.

“Woah,” said Tav, grabbing onto his shoulders for stability. When she realised who she’d bumped into, her face broke into a smile. “Gale!”

Alcohol had loosened them both up. Gone was her shyness from earlier, replaced by a healthy flush on her cheeks.

“Hey Tav,” he said, and then he twirled her. She giggled, spinning back towards him until they were face to face again.

“How are you finding the party?” she asked.

“I’m just glad to be here with some of my favourite people.”

She wrapped her arms loosely around his neck. His hands found her waist and they swayed together. She looked up into his eyes contemplatively, her fingers gently playing with his hair.

“You’re my favourite person,” she said decisively. “Bar none.”

“Don’t tell Astarion. You’ll really hurt his feelings.” A second after the words were out of his mouth, he regretted them. She had been being sincere, and he had batted her compliment back at her with a joke.

The ball was in her court now. She just let out a soft chuckle. “Oh, he knows you’re my favourite.”

“He does, does he?”

“He has a sense for these things. He’s like a bloodhound like that.”

They had stopped swaying now. Tav was steady, and Gale realised his hands were gripping into the fabric of her dress. “Tav, do you want to go and get some fresh air with me?”

“Of course.”

Thankfully, there was no one in the garden. Gale needed to speak with Tav without everyone watching. He guided her to the side so that they wouldn’t be visible through the glass back door. As soon as they were out of sight, he took her hands.

“Tav,” he said, steeling himself.

“Gale,” she replied dreamily. “Lovely Gale.” She was looking up at him with such a pretty smile on her face. His face felt hot and his pulse was racing.

“There are things that I should say to you before I sober up too much and chicken out.”

She cocked her head to the side, but there was a flash of nervousness in her expression. “What is it?”

“Come and sit with me?”

There was an old picnic blanket draped over the back of one of the patio chairs. He shook it out and then lay it on the grass. Once he was sat down, he beckoned Tav over. She lowered herself onto the blanket, looking at him with a bemused expression. Gale lay back, gesturing for her to lie down beside him. She followed his lead.

“I wanted to look at the stars,” he said. It was a remarkably clear night. “This feels like the first night of the rest of my life. I wanted it to be under a canopy of beauty and wonder… With company to match.” He turned to look at Tav, who was staring up at the sky.

“It’s breath-taking,” she said. She turned her head towards him and their eyes met. Her knuckles brushed against the back of his hand, so he laid it palm up, satisfied when she took his bait and linked their hands together.

“It makes me think of the world beyond all of this. We’re graduating soon. I don’t know what that means for any of us. But I hope that we’ll have the opportunity to stay in each other’s lives.”

Tav rolled over to face him, so he rolled onto his side to meet her. They lay facing each other, fingers intertwined.

“Gale, what are you saying?” she asked in a hushed tone.

“Maybe I’ve got this all wrong. But if I don’t say it I know I’ll regret it.” He touched her cheek and her eyes widened. In the starlight, her eyes were bright and more beautiful than anything he’d ever seen. “I’m in love with you, Tav. I want to spend my life with you. If that’s not-”

He didn’t get to finish his sentence, because Tav was already kissing him. She propelled her body into his with such force that he was knocked onto his back, and she loomed over him, swallowing his every breath like he was the last source of oxygen on earth. Her hair fell in a curtain around both of their faces, making a tiny little alcove in the darkness just for them.

He gripped the fabric of her dress and she let out a little gasp, breaking apart from him. She scooped her hair to the side, grinning down at him with kiss-swollen lips.

“In case it wasn’t clear, I’m in love with you too,” she said. “I have been since first year.”

“Well, thank goodness for that.” She let out a little laugh. “I suppose I have some catching up to do. It seems that I’m the last one to realise.”

“It’s not like you to be so slow,” she said fondly, stroking his hair. He tugged her down for another kiss.

Somehow, his hand found its way under her dress, skimming up the outside of her thigh. He was reminded very suddenly that she was wearing fishnet tights, and his cock twitched at the thought of tearing them off her.

She shuffled closer so that she was half lying on him, her knee between his legs. With the weight of her body on his, the smell of her skin in his nostrils and the quiet but persistent moans of pleasure that kept falling from her lips, he was very quickly developing a problem.

“Are you hard?” she asked, skimming her hand up his torso.

“Sorry.” He broke away from her, and she leant back.

“Why are you sorry?”

“Because it’s taking all of my self-control not to rut against you like an animal right now. Hardly romantic.”

“And what if I want you to rut against me like an animal?”

Gale exhaled sharply. “You can’t just say things like that.” His erection was straining against the zip of his trousers and he was sure she could feel it.

“Why not?”

“Because you’re going to make me act in a most… ungentlemanly fashion.”

Tav sat up, and Gale mourned the loss of her warmth. “How about this?” she said slowly. “We both take a few minutes to get ourselves together, so we don’t embarrass ourselves in front of all our friends. And then you meet me upstairs in my room in ten minutes and take me in a most ungentlemanly fashion.”

“You’re incorrigible,” he said, and was rewarded with another kiss.

“You love me,” she said, and he couldn’t deny that. “See you in ten minutes.”

He watched her stand up and straighten her clothes and hair. Resolute, she went back inside.

Gale took his time folding up the picnic blanket and willing his erection to go down. It was a mean feat, because whenever he thought about Tav waiting for him upstairs, he felt his dick hardening again.

In the end, he settled for untucking his shirt so as to hide the evidence of his arousal. Unfortunately, Astarion was waiting for him just inside, leaning against the wall. He opened his mouth, but Gale cut him off.

“Don’t say a word.”

Astarion mimed zipping his lips.

No one else tried to stop Gale as he headed upstairs, although he did get a few sideways glances. At this point, he was too far gone to care.

He stopped off in the bathroom to give himself a once-over, brushing his teeth and re-applying cologne. When he was ready, he knocked on Tav’s bedroom door.

“Come in!” she called. He let himself in.

Tav was sitting on the bed, surprisingly primly, considering the circumstances. He was about to ask her if she was alright when she threw something at him.

The offending object hit his chest, but he caught it before it felt. It was red and lacy, and he realised with jolt that it was Tav’s panties.

“I took them off, since I figured I wouldn’t be needing them anymore,” she said, faux-innocent.

“Naughty girl,” he said. “Come here.”

He had expected her to stand, but instead she knelt, crawling until she was on her knees in front of him. Gale was on the verge of losing all his composure. She looked so pretty on her knees, looking up at him through her lashes, and with the knowledge that she wasn’t wearing panties, he was dizzyingly hard again.  

Her hands went to his belt buckle, but he stopped her, one hand on her cheek. “We don’t have to do anything if you don’t want to.”

“Gale, I think it’s pretty clear that I want to. Do you want to?”

“Of course I do. You’re not too drunk, are you?”

“I’m barely tipsy. I’ve had, like, three drinks. Can I suck your cock now, or are you going to breathalyse me first?”

“You like to run your mouth, don’t you, angel?” he murmured. He cupped her face, his thumb tugging at her lower lip. “Just begging me to stuff my cock down your throat. Is that what you want?”

She nodded. He unhooked his belt, unzipped his trousers and pulled his cock out. Her eyes were wide and appreciative. He guided his cock towards her lips, so she opened her mouth.

The first touch of her tongue against him sent a shiver down his spine. It had been a long time since he’d had his dick sucked – Mystra was never interested – and Tav had pretty, plush lips for him to slide his cock between.

She guided his hand to her hair and began moving, trying to take as much of him as she could.

“Holy fuck, Tav. Can I-?”

She nodded. She put her hands on his hips, encouraging him to move. He grabbed her hair in a loose ponytail and began to fuck her face. Her fingernails dug into his hips hard enough to hurt, sending a jolt through him that made him realise that he was entirely too close to cumming, and he really didn’t want to cum until he’d fucked her for real.

He pulled back, a trail of spit connected her lips to his cock. She took a gasping, shuddering breath.

“Are you alright?” he asked, stroking her hair back behind her ears. “Was I too rough?”

“No, I liked it,” she said, but her voice was a little raspy. He helped her to her feet.

“If I ever do anything that you’re not comfortable with, or if you want to stop for any reason, you tell me, alright?”

“Gale, I want you to fuck me until I cry. I’m not asking you to stop.”

“You’re not inspiring a lot of confidence that you’re taking your safety and comfort seriously right now,” he said. She pouted at him. “If you want me to stop, say ‘red’, alright?”

“Fine.” She regarded him, cocking her head to one side. “Are you sure you want to do this? I know this is a big step.”

“Tav.” He crowded into her space, forcing her to look up into his eyes. “I’ve never wanted anything more.”

“Then take me, Gale.”

Something between them broke. He scooped her up and tossed her onto the bed like a ragdoll. She let out a squeak but before she had time to recover, he was on top of her, mouthing at her neck. She was practically mewling, her arms around his shoulders holding him against her.

His hands, spanning the width of her back, fumbled at the zip at the back of her dress. Once it was down, he tugged at the front, revealing her bra.

“Take this off,” he growled. She arched her back so that she could unhook it, and once it was loose, he tugged it off her, freeing her breasts. He cupped them immediately, thumbing over her nipples. She keened, toes curling.

His crotch and most of her lower body were being swallowed by the layers of her dress. As he sucked at her nipple, his free hand slid up her skirt and felt the soaking fabric of her fishnets.

“Fuck, angel,” he muttered. “You’re so wet for me.”

“Gale, I need you,” she whined, and how could he resist her?

He crawled down her body until he was able to bunch up her skirt. It was here that he got the first glimpse of her pussy, pressed up against the fishnet tights. This close, he could smell her. He was practically salivating.

“Are these expensive?” he asked, grabbing a handful of the tights.

“What? No.”

“Okay. I’ll buy you new ones,” he said, and then tangled his fingers into them and pulled until they tore.

Her pussy was uncovered now, bare and neglected. With both hands, he parted her pussy lips and listened to her gasp.

She tasted like salt and honey and sex. She was whimpering his name as he laved his tongue over her clit, lapping up her moans and her juices. It wasn’t enough. He needed her to scream his name.

He pressed one finger into her, and then two. She was tight around him, so he was careful to work her open, for fear of hurting her. She was barely coherent, thighs wrapped around his head, toes curling against his back.

He held her down as her thighs began to tremble, and he knew she was close.

“Gale,” she moaned, clenching around his fingers. He fucked her through it, sucking on her clit until she pushed him away. “If you don’t fuck me, I think I might explode.”

“Condoms?”

He relinquished his grip on her so that she could get up and root through her chest of drawers. At a glance, there were a few other items in the bottom drawer – lube, handcuffs, a couple of different vibrators – that piqued his interest, but that was for another time. He pulled his shirt off over his head and divested of the rest of his clothes.

She handed him the box of condoms and, while he put one on, pulled off her ruined fishnets. She let her dress fall down around her ankles and stepped out of it.

Now that she was standing in front of him, naked as the day she was born, a new kind of longing fluttered in Gale’s chest. He wanted to do this forever. He wanted to learn every little quirk of her body. He wanted to know how to make it sing, and he was willing to spend however long it took to find out.

He reached for her, but she held up her hands. “Nuh-uh. I was promised rutting like animals.”

Gale’s eyes felt like they would pop out of his skull when she crawled onto the bed on all fours, facing away from him. She looked at him over her shoulder.

“Are you going to fuck me, or what?”

He scrambled onto the bed behind her, hearing her chuckle lightly. He lined up his cock with her entrance. He was thick so he was sure it would be a tight fit. Still, he slipped just the head of his cock inside her and she keened.

“Fuck, Gale, you’re so big.”

Gale’s already sizeable ego was swelling with her praise. He moved slowly, stroking her back and playing with her clit as he slid inside her. It was hard to force himself to go slow, but he’d never forgive himself if he hurt her.

When he was fully seated inside her, she flopped forward, her face pressed into the mattress, and let out a long groan of pleasure.

Once he was sure that she’d adjusted to his size, he began to thrust. The little gasps and moans that tumbled from her lips were the hottest sounds he’d ever heard. He grabbed both of her arms and held them behind her back, and her moans took on a new timbre. She tightened around him suddenly, a surprising orgasm wrenched from her. She wriggled in pleasure, but speared on his cock as she was, she didn’t get far.

For his part, Gale found that he missed her face. He released her arms and flipped her over onto her back.

“Gale-” she started, but her words were lost in the moan as he plunged into her again.

He hooked his forearms under her thighs and folded her body in half, her knees almost reaching her ears. She let out a string of expletives, his name mixed in as if it were a swear word.

He leaned in so that his lips were beside her ear.

“You love this, don’t you?” he murmured. “Being my little slut? Being stretched out on my big cock?”

She nodded profusely. “I’m your slut,” she said. “I want you to use me as your fucktoy.”

Gale’s thrusts stuttered, his balls tightening. She grabbed his face and dragged him in for a panting, bedraggled kiss as he came.

“Fuck…”

“Fuck,” she agreed.

*

Later, Tav’s cheek was pressed against Gale’s bare chest, and her fingertips were tracing patterns into his skin. They were both on the verge of sleep when a knock on the door roused them both.

“Tav? Are you in there?” It was Shadowheart.

Tav sat up, pulling her duvet up to cover her chest. “Yeah, I’m in here.”

“I just wanted to check that you’re okay, you disappeared pretty early?”

“I’m fine, don’t worry about me.”

“Is Gale with you? I can’t find him.”

Tav hesitated. She looked down at Gale with a question in her eyes. He gave her a small nod. “Yeah, he’s here.”

Shadowheart let out a squeal of excitement, and then a voice that sounded suspiciously like Astarion said, “I knew it!”

“CONGRATULATIONS!” shouted Karlach.

“God, is everyone out there?” Tav whispered to Gale.

As if on cue, she heard Rolan say, “Alright, you’ve had your fun, let’s give them their privacy,” and Lia telling him to shut up.

Tav let out a sigh and dropped her forehead against Gale’s chest. “They’re the worst,” she said.

“The worst,” he agreed.

---

Notes:

Epilogue will be up shortly :) No I will not apologise for squeezing Rolan (and Cal and Lia) in wherever I can. I lub him

Epilogue