#hair a little grown out features a little more pronounced

[whatarewedoingdude]

Headcanon that this is what Slightly Older™ Alex Forbes looks like

[edenesth]

The Secret Admirer

Pairing: school rival!San x fem!reader (featuring Wooyoung)

AU: high school au (enemies to lovers)

Word Count: 14k

Summary: As a new transfer student in KQ High, you start receiving anonymous love notes and gifts that leave you both intrigued and confused. It becomes a secret admirer mystery at school and everyone has their theories about who it might be. Could it be your crush, Wooyoung, as you'd hoped or the annoying Choi San?

A/N: This is lowkey inspired by ATEEZ's The Real music video. San looked so good here, he's literally unreal.

ATEEZ Masterlist

Mingi let out a sigh filled with anxiety, his gaze fixed on the imposing school building that would be your new home. You pursed your lips, throwing an arm over his shoulder as best you could, your best friend towering over you by at least half a head.

"I'm really scared." He admitted, shoulders sagging under the weight of his apprehension.

In an attempt to ease his tension, you playfully nudged him on the head, "Oh, come on, Mingi. We didn't leave our old school behind just for you to remain scared here. I promise things will be better."

He managed a forced smile, wanting to show strength for your sake.

Your previous school was a nightmare, a toxic environment where bullies ruled the place, and even teachers struggled to maintain order. Wealthy students received special treatment, while the rest of the students became targets of the elite.

Poor Mingi had suffered the worst of it.

He endured relentless bullying that left him with severe anxiety.

As his best friend, you had done everything in your power to protect him, but the odds were stacked against you when you, like him and everyone else, were only from a regular-income family.

In the end, you two suffered together, united by the daily struggle.

You had talked to your parents about the situation, and together with Mingi's parents, they agreed to transfer both of you to a new and more promising school in the neighbourhood.

That's how you found yourselves standing before KQ High.

It was your first day at this new school, and while you were filled with optimism, Mingi still carried the weight of his old fears.

"Hey, no matter what happens, I'll be right here with you, okay?"

His genuine smile finally broke through, and he pulled you into a side hug, "Thanks, buttercup. You're the best."

You smirked and dramatically flipped your hair, "I know. Now, let's get going, dumbass. We can't afford to be late on our first day. Trust me, you don't want to be a laughingstock."

With his laughter accompanying you, you both headed towards the unknown, already feeling a little lighter and more hopeful about the new journey ahead.

Lucky for the two of you, the first period of the day turned out to be an unexpectedly pleasant surprise.

As you and Mingi settled into your seats in the classroom, you exchanged a look of amazement. This was already a stark contrast to your previous school, where you had grown accustomed to the oppressive atmosphere of fear and hostility.

Today, however, there were no bullies in sight, and the atmosphere felt refreshingly different.

Everyone in the class greeted you both with polite smiles and warm words of welcome upon your first meeting. It was as if they genuinely cared about their studies and the well-being of their fellow classmates.

The teacher, Mr. Kim, a kind and enthusiastic educator, introduced himself with a cheerful demeanour.

He took the time to get to know each student, making sure to pronounce everyone's names correctly and asking about their interests and aspirations.

It felt like a breath of fresh air compared to the apathetic instructors you had encountered before.

As the class began, you found yourself immersed in the subject matter, something that had rarely happened at your previous school. The other students seemed equally engaged, and there was an air of camaraderie as you all shared your thoughts and ideas.

During a group activity, you and Mingi teamed up with a couple of classmates, who were eager to include you in the discussion. They listened attentively to your input and shared their own insights. It was a stark departure from your past experiences of being isolated and ridiculed.

The minutes passed, and the first period drew to a close.

As you gathered your belongings, Mingi turned to you with a smile that reflected his growing sense of relief and happiness.

"Can you believe this, buttercup?" He whispered, his eyes wide with amazement, "No bullies, no weird stares, just normal people treating us like... well, normal people."

You returned his smile, "I know, Mingi. It's incredible. I think we might have finally found a place where we belong."

Mingi nodded, and together you both left the classroom, carrying a newfound sense of hope and optimism. The journey was just beginning, but for the first time in a long while, you felt like you were on the right path, surrounded by classmates who were genuinely kind and a school where learning was valued above all else.

But perhaps you might have spoken a little too soon.

In the blink of an eye, a rather intimidating figure appeared before you just as you were making your way to your locker.

The collision was unavoidable, causing the stranger to drop his stack of books. You gasped, immediately bowing multiple times and apologising profusely, not wanting to escalate the situation.

Considering how kind everyone had been so far, you expected this guy to graciously accept your apology.

Oh boy, you couldn't have been more wrong.

Reality proved quite different as he responded with a withering glare, accompanied by a muttered curse under his breath. He then scoffed, "Sheesh, get yourself a pair of glasses if you can't see properly."

Your heart sank, and you could feel your optimism from earlier wavering. It seemed that not everyone was as welcoming as you'd initially thought.

Should've known things were too good to be true.

Not one to back down easily, you rolled your eyes and clenched your jaw in annoyance, "Oh, I'm sorry. I'm sorry that a rat crawled up your ass and died there, because what the heck, dude? There's no need to be rude, it was clearly just an accident."

Mingi's eyes widened at your audacious response, panicking.

He quickly grabbed your arm and attempted to pull you away, stammering, "N-no, she didn't mean that! We're new here, so she's not familiar with the rules yet. She reacts strangely to shock... ha ha... We'll just be on our way, sir."

You scoffed, tugging your arm stubbornly out of Mingi's grasp, determined to confront this douchebag, who you now knew as Choi San, thanks to his name tag. You huffed in irritation, "Sir? I think not. Stay put, Mingi. I've got this."

San responded with a smirk, his disbelief evident in his expression, "You? What are you going to do, Miss Smarty Pants?"

To your best friend's absolute chagrin, you rolled up your sleeves, sizing the bully up daringly, fully prepared to fight if necessary.

But before you could do or say anything rash, someone stepped in between you and San, "Whoa, whoa, calm down, let's all take a deep breath. There's no need to fight, I'm sure this is just a misunderstanding."

He turned to you after shooting San a quick glare in warning, "I apologise on behalf of my friend here. He's just having a rough day. I assure you, he's not always like this."

You wished you could respond with collected composure, but you were utterly captivated by the stunning young man who had just intervened. Mingi, sensing the atmosphere, joined you and bowed, "I'm truly sorry as well. She isn't usually like this, I promise."

The guy shook his head warmly, reassuring, "No, please, you have nothing to be sorry for."

While you were momentarily lost in admiration, your best friend took charge of the conversation on your behalf, "I heard you both are new?" The guy inquired, and Mingi nodded, introducing both of you.

He offered a friendly smile, "Oh, it's nice to meet you two. I'm Wooyoung, and this is San. We happen to be the president and vice president of the baseball club. Perhaps you could both come over and take a look once you've settled in."

Finally finding your voice upon hearing this invitation, you enthusiastically chimed in, "We'll definitely be there!"

San couldn't hide his annoyance, clearly vexed by your shift in demeanour due to his best friend's presence. After exchanging a few more pleasantries with Wooyoung, you went separate ways.

As you and Mingi walked home together after school that day, he couldn't help but express his concern.

He shot you a reproachful glance and said, "Seriously, you almost got into a brawl with San back there. You can't just let your temper get the best of you like that."

You took a deep breath, your expression softening as you explained.

"Mingi, I didn't want to fight. I just... I wanted to make sure we don't become targets like we were at our old school. Sometimes, you've got to let people know you're not someone to mess with so they'll leave you alone. It's not about aggression, it's about self-defence."

He sighed, realising your perspective, "I get it, buttercup, but let's try to handle these situations differently, okay? We're in a new place, and maybe things will be different here."

You nodded, understanding his point and promising to exercise more restraint in the future.

Just like your nickname, Mingi named you after the Powerpuff Girl who resembled you the most. While you enjoyed teasing him and playfully referring to him as your princess, you were like his protector; embodying the qualities of a tough hotheaded tomboy, much like the actual Buttercup.

The conversation then took a lighter turn as Mingi began talking about the president of the baseball club, "Did you see the way Wooyoung handled the situation? He's so cool. I hope I can be like him one day."

A dreamy smile crossed your face as you thought of the handsome baseball club president, "Yeah, Wooyoung is something else, isn't he? So confident and composed. It's like he's got this natural charm about him."

Mingi chuckled, catching the starry look in your eyes, "Someone's got a little crush, huh?"

You rolled your eyes playfully, but there was no denying it – there was something undeniably captivating about Wooyoung that had left an impression on both of you.

As you continued your walk home, you wondered what other adventures and encounters awaited you in this new and intriguing chapter of your high school life.

A week had passed since you and Mingi had started attending KQ High, and things were shaping up quite well.

The two of you had managed to make some new friends here and there, and the best part was that you could finally focus on your studies without the looming fear of being bullied.

As you both sat down for lunch in the school courtyard, the sun shining brightly overhead, you felt a sense of contentment. The atmosphere was different here, and it was refreshing to know that you could be yourself without constantly looking over your shoulder.

Mingi took a bite of his sandwich and then turned to you, a mischievous glint in his eye, "You know, I've been thinking. We should pay a visit to the baseball club soon."

You grinned, realising where he was heading with this, "I was just about to say that! I mean, Wooyoung and San did seem pretty cool, it wouldn't hurt to check out what the club is all about."

He nodded in agreement, excitement in his voice, "Exactly! We've literally already met the most important people in the club. Wooyoung's the president, and he's so sweet and welcoming. Plus, San's the vice president, he might not be as warm and fuzzy, but he's still part of the team."

You both chuckled at the thought of San's initial grumpy demeanour.

You were willing to give him the benefit of the doubt. Perhaps Wooyoung had been right, perhaps San was just having a bad day.

Your best friend continued, "Besides, I hear the baseball club is pretty popular here. It could be a great way for us to finally get more involved in school activities."

With a determined nod, you replied, "For sure. Let's finish our lunch, and maybe we can swing by the club after classes today. I guess it's about time we step out of our comfort zone and try doing what normal students do for a change."

His eyes lit up with enthusiasm as he agreed, "Sounds like a plan. Who knows, maybe we'll discover a hidden talent for baseball or make even more friends along the way."

As you both finished your lunch and chatted about your upcoming visit to the baseball club, you felt a sense of excitement for the adventures and friendships that awaited you at KQ High.

The afternoon sun was dipping low in the sky as you and Mingi made your way to the baseball club's practice field. You were both excited to see what the club had to offer and meet more of your new schoolmates.

However, as you approached the field, you couldn't help but feel a sense of unease. Wooyoung was nowhere to be seen.

Instead, San was there to greet you and Mingi.

You tried to shake off the uneasy feeling that had settled in your stomach, reminding yourself that maybe San had just been having a bad day when you first met him.

As you approached, his expression remained stoic, and he barely acknowledged your presence. He turned to Mingi with a polite nod and said, "Hey, you're Mingi, right? I'm San, the vice president. Nice to meet you."

Mingi smiled and extended his hand, shaking San's, "Yeah, that's me. Nice to meet you too, San."

You felt a pang of frustration.

San had greeted Mingi with politeness, but when he turned to you, his demeanour shifted completely. He didn't offer a handshake or a smile; instead, he crossed his arms and raised an eyebrow.

"And who are you?"

The blatant hostility in his tone caught you off guard.

You felt your patience wearing thin as you replied, trying to maintain your composure as you gave him your name, "I'm Mingi's friend. We're both new here, and we wanted to check out the baseball club."

His response was a scoff and a dismissive wave of his hand, "Figures."

You exchanged a bewildered look with Mingi, who seemed equally taken aback by San's attitude. It was clear that the vice president had something against you, and it was infuriating to be treated so poorly when you had done nothing to provoke him.

Before the situation could escalate further, you decided to take the high road and simply said, "Well, we'll leave you to it then. Sorry for bothering you."

Mingi nodded in agreement, and you both turned to leave the baseball field, your excitement from earlier now replaced by disappointment and frustration.

You couldn't figure out why San had such a strong dislike for you.

A few days after your rather disheartening encounter with the vice president at the baseball club, you and Mingi were surprised to find Wooyoung approaching you both with a warm smile on his face.

He seemed genuinely apologetic as he began, "Hey, I heard about what happened when you first visited the club. I was away for a meeting that day, and I just wanted to apologise for San's behaviour. He was being unreasonable, and I've spoken to him about it. Sorry about that."

You exchanged a glance with Mingi, your initial tension easing at the club president's friendly demeanour, "No worries," Mingi replied diplomatically, "We understand that everyone has off days."

Wooyoung nodded appreciatively, then made an offer that took you both by surprise, "Well, how about I personally give you a tour of the club and introduce you to the other members? I promise you won't have any trouble with San this time."

You hesitated for a moment, your previous encounter with San still fresh in your mind. But the Wooyoung's sincere offer was hard to resist, and you nodded in agreement.

"Sure, that sounds great. Thank you, Wooyoung."

A few days later, you and Mingi met up with the club president at the baseball field.

He was as charming and friendly as ever, making you feel at ease. As he began to show you around and introduce you to the club members, you were impressed by the teamwork and talent on display.

But your anxiety resurfaced when you noticed San's presence.

Wooyoung had assured you that San would behave civilly, but as the tour continued, it became painfully clear that the club's vice president had no intention of including you in the proceedings.

He interacted with Mingi, offering insights and sharing stories about the club, but he completely disregarded your presence. It was as if you were invisible to him, and you couldn't shake the feeling of being an outsider.

You tried your best to remain composed and not let his behaviour get to you, but it was hard to enjoy the tour when you felt so excluded. Wooyoung noticed your discomfort but didn't address it directly, choosing to focus on showing you the positive aspects of the club.

Once the tour ended, you and Mingi thanked Wooyoung for his time and kindness, genuinely appreciating his efforts to make you feel welcome. But the unresolved tension with San lingered in the air, leaving you with mixed feelings about your visit to the baseball club.

After much contemplation, you and Mingi decided not to join any clubs for the time being, and instead, chose to focus on your studies and adapt to your surroundings first.

As the days turned into weeks at KQ High, your relationship with San seemed to evolve from animosity to outright rivalry.

Every interaction with him felt like a challenge, as he continuously sought to get on your nerves. He never missed an opportunity to one-up you, whether it was by bragging about his grades or teasing you for having slightly lower scores.

In the classroom, San always seemed to find a way to sit near you, making snide comments about your work.

If you scored well on a test, he would downplay it, claiming it was just luck. When your grades were slightly lower than his, he would never let you forget it, making sly remarks about your academic abilities.

Despite his childish behaviour, you were irritated by his constant need to compete. It was as if he couldn't stand the thought of you outperforming him in any way. Your rivalry with the vice president of the baseball club became the talk of the school, with classmates often teasing you both for your ongoing battles.

Amidst this rivalry, Wooyoung seemed to sense your frustration.

He became extra caring and attentive, making an effort to balance out his best friend's behaviour. The club president went out of his way to support you in your studies, offering to help you with difficult subjects and encouraging you to join extracurricular activities.

His kindness and understanding provided a stark contrast to San's behaviour, and you appreciated his efforts to make amends for his friend's actions. Wooyoung's friendship became a source of comfort and encouragement during your high school journey, and you found yourself growing closer to him as a result.

As time went on, you realised that despite the challenges posed by San's rivalry, you had a strong support system in Mingi and Wooyoung, who helped you navigate the ups and downs of high school life.

Your determination to succeed and prove yourself only grew stronger, fueled by the competitive spirit ignited by your rivalry with San.

During a brief break between classes, you were walking alongside Mingi, casually complaining about your favourite chocolate milk running out in the school cafeteria. It had become somewhat of a ritual for you to enjoy that chocolatey goodness during your short breaks, and its absence was deeply felt.

"I can't believe they ran out of my favourite milk again," You groaned to Mingi, shaking your head in disappointment, "It's like they always do it right when I need it the most."

Mingi, ever the empathetic friend, sighed in agreement, "I know, right? It's like they have a radar for when you're craving it."

As you approached your locker during the break, you prepared to grab your textbooks for the next class. However, when you opened your locker, you let out a surprised gasp.

Inside your locker, right next to your textbooks, was a carton of your favourite chocolate milk. You blinked in disbelief, your eyes widening, and your heart skipped a beat.

You reached for it and found a note attached.

Mingi's excitement was palpable as he watched your reaction, "What is it? Did someone leave you a surprise?" You pulled out the note and read it aloud, your voice filled with astonishment, "I hope your favourite milk can cheer you up. Enjoy!"

His eyes widened even more, and he couldn't contain his excitement, "Ooh, you have a secret admirer!" He exclaimed, his voice a little too loud for the quiet hallway. Your face flushed with embarrassment as the attention of your fellow students turned towards you.

You stammered, "I-I don't know who it could be."

Mingi grinned mischievously, putting two and two together, "Maybe it's someone from the baseball club, trying to impress you."

The thought had crossed your mind as well, but you couldn't be sure.

As the mystery of your secret admirer hung in the air, you felt a mixture of curiosity and delight. Who could it be that knew about your love for chocolate milk and wanted to make your day a little brighter?

As time passed, the mystery of your secret admirer deepened, and the gestures of affection continued to pour in.

Every day seemed to bring a new surprise, from your favourite snacks and drinks to essential items to get you through the day. The notes that accompanied these gifts grew sweeter by the day, and it was clear that this person knew you extremely well.

One day, you found a note that simply read, "I hope this makes you smile today," along with a bouquet of your favourite flowers.

Another time, a cosy scarf appeared in your locker with a note that said, "Stay warm and happy, always."

Your secret admirer seemed to anticipate your needs and desires, brightening your days with their thoughtful gestures. You felt a warm sense of connection with this mysterious person who seemed to know you so intimately.

Unbeknownst to you, your secret admirer had become the talk of the school.

Everyone had their own theories about who it might be, and gossip about the identity of this mysterious person spread like wildfire. Some speculated it was someone from the baseball club, while others believed it could be a classmate who had been secretly watching you from afar.

Throughout all of this, your rivalry with San continued.

He would often tease you about the "silly" gifts you were receiving, making fun of the person who would actually like you. Although his comments annoyed you, they also fueled your determination to uncover the identity of your secret admirer.

On the flip side, your bond with Wooyoung continued to grow stronger. He would occasionally do things that made your heart flutter, like lending you his jacket when you were cold or giving you his umbrella when you forgot to bring yours.

These gestures were so attentive and thoughtful that they set your crush on him into overdrive, something even Mingi wouldn't do.

As the days went by, the secret admirer mystery at school only intensified, and you found yourself torn between trying to solve the puzzle and cherishing the daily surprises that brightened your life.

One afternoon, as you and Mingi sat together in your favourite spot in the school courtyard, the topic of your secret admirer came up once again. Ever the imaginative friend, he threw out a series of wild suggestions, each more unlikely than the last.

"What if it's Seonghwa from the calligraphy club? I mean, you did have that one conversation with him." Mingi proposed, his eyes dancing with mischief.

You rolled your eyes at the idea.

"Oh come on, that's a bit too far-fetched, don't you think? Seonghwa is way too sophisticated to have a crush on me."

Mingi didn't stop there, "Okay, okay, how about Yunho from the biker's club? He did lend you a pen during that exam, after all. Could be a sign."

You couldn't help but chortle at Mingi's wild theories.

"Dude, you're trippin'. Yunho is practically a legend in this school. He's got way better things to do than leave me love notes."

Mingi shrugged, conceding, "Yeah, you're probably right. And then there's Yeosang, the untouchable genius and president of the student council. Maybe he's secretly smitten with you."

You burst into laughter, "Mingi, you're freaking crazy! Yeosang is way out of my league. Besides, why would someone like him be interested in me?"

Mingi finally gave up on his outlandish guesses and turned to you with a smile, "Alright, buttercup. Who do you think it is then?"

You felt your cheeks flush, and you hesitated for a moment before shyly admitting, "Well, if I had to pick, I kind of wish it was Wooyoung," He grinned, nudging you playfully, "Ah, so you've got a soft spot for the baseball club president, huh?"

You blushed even deeper and playfully swatted his arm.

"Don't tease me, it's just a silly crush. I doubt he's the secret admirer anyway," His smile was warm as he ruffled your hair, "You never know, silly. Sometimes, the person you least expect can surprise you."

After your admission about your crush on Wooyoung and Mingi's continuous teasing that lasted for days, the gifts and notes from your secret admirer strangely stopped. It was as if someone had flipped a switch, and your daily bright spots had disappeared. You had grown so accustomed to the surprises that you now felt like everything was going wrong without them.

One day, as you sat in an empty classroom after school, fulfilling your cleaning duty, you couldn't shake off the feeling of disappointment. You missed the small gestures of kindness that had brightened your days.

It was a particularly gloomy afternoon, you couldn't help but mope.

But your already sour mood took a nosedive when the last person you wanted to see made an unexpected appearance in the classroom. San strolled in with an arrogant smirk, clearly relishing the opportunity to get under your skin.

"Aww, still pouting because your secret admirer ditched you?" He taunted, leaning casually against a desk.

You tried to ignore him, focusing on your cleaning duties, but his relentless teasing was beginning to wear on your nerves. He continued to make snide remarks about your admirer, insinuating that you might have been sending the gifts and notes to yourself just to create the illusion that someone would like you.

"Are you sure you didn't send yourself all those things just to make yourself look desirable? I mean, who in their right mind would even like you enough to do all this?"

Each of his words stung like a needle, and you clenched your fists in frustration. You had no idea why your secret admirer had suddenly stopped, but the insinuation that you were faking it only fueled your irritation.

Finally, you couldn't hold back any longer.

Turning to face him, you snapped, "You know, San, not everything revolves around you and your constant need to belittle others. Just because you can't stand the thought of someone being nice to me doesn't mean you have to make up stories to feel better about yourself."

His smirk faltered for a moment as he realised the depth of your anger. You had rarely spoken up to him in such a manner, and it took him by surprise. Before he could respond, you turned away and focused on finishing your cleaning duties.

The emptiness in your heart weighed heavily on you, and you wondered why your secret admirer had disappeared and whether you would ever find out the truth.

As you continued to clean the classroom, feeling down after your encounter with San, you didn't expect anyone else to notice your mood.

But as you were lost in your thoughts, you suddenly heard a familiar voice calling out your name.

"Hey, are you okay?"

You turned to see Wooyoung standing in the doorway, concern evident in his eyes. He had apparently noticed your sombre expression and had come to check on you.

You managed a weak smile, not wanting to burden him with your troubles, "I'm fine, Woo. Just a bit tired, that's all." He didn't seem convinced but respected your response.

Instead, he offered, "Well, how about we grab some ice cream after this? It might help brighten your day." The offer caught you by surprise, and you felt a glimmer of hope. Ice cream sounded like a perfect way to lift your spirits.

You nodded in agreement, "Sure, that sounds nice."

As you walked to the nearby ice cream shop after school, Wooyoung did his best to engage you in conversation, trying to cheer you up. His genuine concern and friendly demeanour made you feel a bit better, but you couldn't shake off the nagging thought about your secret admirer.

Sitting in the ice cream parlour, you stared at him as he talked animatedly about various topics, you wondered if he could be the secret admirer. The thought played like a broken record in your mind.

Part of you wanted to ask him why he had stopped the gifts.

But the logical part of your brain reminded you that it couldn't possibly be Wooyoung. If he were the one behind the thoughtful gestures, he wouldn't be here with you right now, trying to cheer you up in person.

So, you pushed aside your doubts and worries, allowing yourself to enjoy the moment with him. As you savoured the sweet taste of your ice cream, you appreciated his kindness and friendship, even if the mystery of your secret admirer remained unsolved.

After your outing with the baseball club president, you found yourself pondering your feelings and the mystery of your secret admirer even more. The conflicting emotions swirling within you left you feeling confused and unsettled.

Unable to contain your thoughts any longer, you decided to confide in Mingi. As you both sat in his bedroom, you opened up about your feelings regarding Wooyoung and the secret admirer.

"Mingi, I just don't understand," You began, your voice tinged with uncertainty, "I've been so fixated on this secret admirer, but I really like Wooyoung. He's caring, attentive, and he's been there for me. So why do I feel so sad about the gifts and notes stopping?"

Mingi regarded you thoughtfully before gently pointing out.

"It sounds like you're describing two different people. If you like Wooyoung and he's been caring towards you, then shouldn't that be enough? Why does it matter if the secret admirer stopped?"

His words struck a chord, and you realised he was right.

Why were you so bothered by the absence of your secret admirer when you believed it to be Wooyoung all along? Did you secretly wish it were someone else? Had your feelings for Wooyoung not been as strong as you thought?

You let out a deep sigh, feeling the weight of your conflicting emotions, "I don't know. Maybe I got carried away with the idea of a secret admirer, it shouldn't diminish what I feel for Wooyoung."

Mingi nodded in understanding, his expression gentle.

"Exactly, buttercup. You don't need a secret admirer to validate your worth or the kindness Wooyoung has shown you. Sometimes, our own expectations and fantasies can cloud our feelings."

Reflecting on Mingi's words, you realised that your fixation on the secret admirer had indeed overshadowed your true feelings for Wooyoung. It was time to appreciate the genuine connection you had with him and let go of the mystery that had consumed your thoughts for so long.

As you decided to let go of the idea of the secret admirer and focus on your budding relationship with Wooyoung, life seemed to return to normal. You enjoyed the time you spent with him, cherishing his caring gestures and the genuine connection you shared.

But one day, as you sat in the school cafeteria with Mingi, you expressed your frustration, "Ugh, can you believe it? They've run out of my favourite chocolate milk again. It's like they do it on purpose."

Mingi sympathetically patted your shoulder, "I know. It's their conspiracy against you, clearly."

After lunch, you returned to your desk in the classroom, expecting another mundane afternoon. But as you opened your bag, you let out a gasp of surprise. There it was, a carton of your beloved chocolate milk, sitting neatly on your desk.

Mingi's eyes widened in disbelief as he stared at the milk, then at you.

"It's happening again!"

You were equally shocked, your heart racing with a mixture of excitement and curiosity.

The return of your secret admirer was unexpected, and you wondered who could be behind it. Picking up the carton of milk and examining it, you find a familiar note attached. It simply read, "I thought this might make your day better."

The mystery had resurfaced, and you exchanged puzzled glances with Mingi. It seemed that your secret admirer was back, and you couldn't wait to uncover the truth behind these thoughtful gestures once and for all.

As the days went by, you noticed that Choi San seemed to be everywhere lately.

It was as if he had suddenly taken an interest in your daily activities. He would pop up in unexpected places, finding clever ways to get your attention, though his teasing had taken on a different tone.

His jokes had shifted from being insulting to more lighthearted and harmless. While you still found yourself annoyed by his constant presence, you couldn't deny that his newfound playfulness was less aggravating than before.

Despite your long-standing rivalry and the initial bad impression you had of each other, you noticed that San's behaviour had changed. He was no longer the relentless tormentor but rather someone who seemed to enjoy engaging with you in a teasing, albeit less hostile, manner.

You found yourself in an odd position.

While you didn't exactly hate him as much as you used to, the memories of your first encounters and the rivalry that had defined your relationship still lingered. It was hard to completely let your guard down around him, even though his intentions appeared to have shifted in a more positive direction.

As you navigate this newfound dynamic with San, you wonder if there was more to his change in behaviour. Was it possible that he had also grown tired of the constant rivalry and had decided to take a different approach in your interactions?

The uncertainty only added to the intrigue of the situation, leaving you both baffled and intrigued by his unexpected transformation.

One afternoon, you found yourself in the library, engrossed in a study session with Wooyoung. The two of you had been diligently working on your assignments and preparing for upcoming exams. The peaceful atmosphere of the library was perfect, and you were grateful for the club president's presence.

But your concentration was disrupted when you noticed San approaching your table. He wore an unhappy expression, and you grumbled in annoyance at his sudden, unwanted presence.

"Hey, Woo," San said with feigned nonchalance, "Mind if I hang out with you guys for a bit?"

Wooyoung, always the peacemaker, smiled and gestured to an empty chair, "Of course, Sannie. Join us. But please, be nice to her."

San acted as if he reluctantly accepted the invitation.

In between your study session, Wooyoung received an urgent phone call that required his immediate attention. He apologised for having to leave and promised to return as soon as he could.

You sighed as Wooyoung left, knowing that you were now alone with San. You asked, "Why are you still here, San? You said you wanted to hang out with Wooyoung," He shrugged, feigning indifference, "Well, I also need to study, you know. Can't be slacking off all the time."

You rolled your eyes, sceptical of his true intentions.

"Fine, whatever. Just don't disturb me."

As you continued to work on your assignments, you came across a particularly challenging math problem that left you frustrated.

San, who had been quietly studying himself, noticed your struggle. Surprisingly, he leaned over and said, "You know, I'm pretty good at math. Need some help?"

You were taken aback by his offer, not expecting such a gesture from someone you had considered your rival for so long. After a moment of hesitation, you reluctantly agreed.

"Okay, fine. Help me with this one."

His explanation turned out to be clear and concise, and you couldn't help but acknowledge that he was indeed skilled in math.

As he helped you in solving the problem, you thought to yourself that maybe he wasn't as unpleasant as you had initially thought. It seemed like he still had the capacity to be a decent person when he chose to be.

The following day, you sat alone in school as the rain poured outside, your chances of staying dry were dwindling rapidly.

Wooyoung was absent, and Mingi had to leave school early for a family emergency, leaving you to face the downpour alone. To make matters worse, you had forgotten your umbrella and raincoat again, a rookie mistake that left you feeling like a complete idiot.

You sighed deeply, hoping against hope that the rain would subside, but it only grew heavier as the minutes passed. After waiting for over an hour, you realised you couldn't stay in school forever.

With a resigned determination, you wrapped your arms around yourself and braced for the inevitable.

Running out into the torrential rain, you were immediately drenched, and your vision blurred as the water streamed down your face. It was a miserable situation, and you cursed your bad luck.

Like the idiot you were, you ended up tripping over something on the ground, scraping your knee painfully on the wet pavement. The pain was sharp, and you couldn't hold back the tears that welled up in your eyes.

You've got to be kidding me, can this day get any worse?

As you sat there in the pouring rain, nursing your injured knee, a shadow appeared in front of you. An umbrella was unfurled above your drenched body, shielding you from the relentless rain, and a hand was extended toward you.

You looked up in surprise, your vision still blurred by raindrops, and to your astonishment, it was San who stood before you.

The last person you expected to come to your aid.

"Need some help?" He asked, his voice surprisingly gentle.

You hesitated for a moment, torn between your ingrained rivalry and your need for assistance. But the pain in your knee and the relentless downpour pushed you to accept his help.

You reached out and took his hand, allowing him to help you up from the wet ground.

As you stood under the umbrella he provided, you felt a strange mixture of gratitude and disbelief because it was San, of all people, who had come to your rescue in your moment of need.

He walked you to the nearest bus stop, offering some protection against the relentless rain. Surprisingly, he was gentle as he helped you sit down and examine your scraped knee. You instinctively pulled away, insisting that you were fine, but he was undeterred.

He knelt down beside you, a look of genuine concern in his eyes.

The sight of him worrying and caring about you was so foreign that you wondered if this was the same Choi San you had known all along.

"Let me take a look." He said softly, reaching out to inspect your scraped knee.

Reluctantly, you allowed him to examine the injury.

He was surprisingly gentle, his touch careful to avoid causing you any more pain. It was a stark contrast to the way he had treated you in the past, and it left you feeling perplexed.

San reached into his bag and pulled out a bandaid, holding it up for you to see, "I always carry a few of these just in case." He explained.

You watched as he helped you apply the bandaid, his actions careful and considerate. Despite your reservations and the history of animosity between you, there was no denying that his concern was genuine.

Looking at him more closely now, you never fully appreciated how handsome San truly was. His slightly damp hair from the rain, coupled with the intense look of concentration on his face as he tried not to cause you more pain, proved to be more appealing than you had expected.

You couldn't believe this, he was making your heart race.

As he finished applying the bandaid, you wondered who this person was and what he had done to the real Choi San.

The conflicting emotions within you made it clear that things were far from simple, and you found yourself questioning your long-held animosity towards him.

After the unexpected kindness from San during the rainstorm and the way he had treated you lately, you felt confused and conflicted. It was a stark departure from the rivalry and animosity that had defined your relationship for so long.

Seeking some perspective, you decided to talk to Mingi about the vice president's sudden change in attitude. As you both lounged in your favourite spot in the school courtyard, you hesitantly broached the topic.

"Mingi, have you noticed how different San has been lately?" You asked, trying to make sense of your feelings.

Your best friend, ever the optimist, offered a reassuring smile.

"Maybe he's just grown tired of the rivalry too, buttercup. People change, you know? Perhaps he's realised that it's best to act civil and put the past behind us."

While Mingi's words were comforting, you still struggled with your emotions. The disdain you had for San had been ingrained in you for so long that accepting his sudden kindness and change of heart was a challenge.

A small part of you resented him for making you feel this way, for shaking the foundation of your long-held beliefs about him.

It was difficult to let go of the past and embrace the possibility of a different relationship with someone you had considered your rival for so long.

A small part of you worried about the possible evil intentions behind his change. The uncertainty left you feeling torn between your deep-seated animosity and the possibility of a new beginning.

As time went on, you continued to receive more and more endearing gifts from your secret admirer. The notes accompanying these gifts became sweeter with each passing day, and it was clear that this mystery person knew you well.

The thoughtful gestures brought a smile to your face, brightening your days and making you feel cherished.

Oddly enough, the timing of these gifts seemed to align with Wooyoung's actions in a way that left you wondering. Many of the surprises were things that he had observed you enjoying or had casually mentioned in conversation.

As a result, rumours began to circulate among your classmates, and the popular theory was that the baseball club president was your secret admirer.

The idea filled you with hope and a flutter of excitement.

The thought that Wooyoung might be the one behind these gestures made your heart race, and you couldn't help but imagine a future where you could be with him.

However, amid this whirlwind of gifts and speculations, San's behaviour remained an enigma.

He was still working on redeeming himself in your eyes, often intervening whenever you and Wooyoung seemed to get closer. It was as if he couldn't stand the thought of you and his best friend becoming a couple.

His actions left you perplexed.

You wondered what had prompted his newfound determination to change. The more he tried to insert himself into your life, the more it fueled your curiosity about the true nature of his intentions.

As the days passed, you found yourself caught between the allure of the secret admirer's gifts and the complicated dynamics between you, Wooyoung, and San. The mysteries and complexities of your high school life continued to unfold, leaving you in a state of both excitement and confusion.

Today, you were on a school trip to the museum for the history class.

The class was filled with a sense of anticipation and curiosity that seemed to revolve around you and Wooyoung.

Everyone around you, including Mingi, seemed to be paying close attention to your interactions with the baseball club president. It was as if they were fully convinced that he was your secret admirer.

You hadn't exactly been oblivious to the little squeals your classmates would occasionally let out whenever Wooyoung did something sweet, like draping his blazer over you when it was cold or taking his time to patiently explain what you didn't understand as you walked through the exhibit together.

San, on the other hand, trailed behind the crowd with a sour expression.

The vice president of the baseball club disliked the sight of you and his best friend getting so close. The rumours and speculations had reached their peak, and he couldn't hide his frustration.

When the group settled down for lunch at the museum cafe, you found yourself sitting with Wooyoung, Mingi, and a few other members of the baseball club.

San, unfortunately, had no choice but to mix with other classmates since your table was already full.

During the meal, your friends couldn't resist teasing the club president about his attentiveness to you, jokingly asking when he was going to reveal himself as the secret admirer. Wooyoung blushed from the teasing, and you stared at him, curiosity and anticipation building within you.

With a slight smile, Wooyoung bit his lip and locked eyes with you.

"Must I be the secret admirer for you to like me?" He asked, his voice soft but filled with a hint of vulnerability, "What if I tell you, I'm not that person?"

The revelation hung in the air, leaving everyone at the table shocked and speechless. You, in particular, felt overwhelmed by the unexpected turn of events. You had been so convinced that he was your secret admirer, and now it seemed that the truth was something entirely different.

The mystery had deepened, and you were left wondering who could be behind the thoughtful gifts and gestures that had captured your heart.

As the shock of Wooyoung's revelation settled in, you felt a whirlwind of emotions and thoughts swirling within you. It was a perplexing mix of confusion, disappointment, and self-reflection.

Initially, you had been so convinced that Wooyoung was your secret admirer, and the prospect of that idea had excited you to no end.

But now, faced with the truth that he wasn't the one behind the anonymous gifts and sweet notes, you found yourself questioning why you had been so upset.

You realised that you had allowed your feelings for Wooyoung to become entangled with the idea of him being the secret admirer. It was as if you had equated your affection for him with the mysterious gestures and thoughtfulness of the anonymous person.

In reality, your crush on Wooyoung had been based on his kind actions and his charming personality, not on the deep connection that you thought you had developed because of the secret admirer's gestures.

Deep down, you couldn't deny that you felt a stronger connection to the secret admirer, as it seemed like this person knew you better than anyone else.

The gifts and notes had felt personal as if they were tailored to your likes and preferences. It made you question the authenticity of your feelings for Wooyoung, realising that they might have been built on a more superficial foundation.

As you grappled with these conflicting emotions, you told yourself that your feelings for Wooyoung should be independent and not dependent on what the secret admirer did or didn't do.

Wooyoung was, after all, his own person and your feelings for him should be based on who he was, not on the anonymous acts of kindness that had momentarily clouded your judgement.

After a moment of silence that seemed to weigh heavily on both of you, you could see a slight hint of disappointment in his eyes.

You couldn't let this moment pass without addressing his question.

"I'm sorry, Woo," You began, your voice soft and apologetic, "I do like you, I really do. But I need to find out who the person behind the anonymous gifts and notes is first, it's important to me."

His expression shifted, and he forced a smile, "I understand," He replied, his voice filled with understanding, "Take your time. I'll be here, waiting for your answer."

Mingi, who had been quietly observing the exchange, sensed your discomfort and decided to step in. He offered his gratitude to Wooyoung for taking care of you so far and claimed that he would take over looking out for you after lunch.

The tension in the air seemed to dissipate.

You were grateful for the understanding and support of both Wooyoung and Mingi. It was a complicated situation, but you were determined to unravel the mystery of your secret admirer and figure out where your heart truly belonged.

As the teacher continued explaining the historical artefacts at the museum, you found it increasingly difficult to focus.

Your mind was still trying to digest the fact that Wooyoung was not your secret admirer, and the revelation had left you feeling somewhat distracted.

Lost in your thoughts, you suddenly felt a presence beside you.

It was San, and he couldn't resist teasing you for not paying attention. His playful jab was enough to snap you out of your trance, and he challenged you to a quiz to see who could answer more questions correctly.

At first, you hesitated, still feeling a bit overwhelmed by the recent turn of events.

However, his persistence and friendly competitiveness eventually won you over. You accepted his challenge, and together, you both started paying closer attention to the teacher's explanations.

As the quiz progressed, you found yourself engaged and focused, eager to prove your knowledge. San's enthusiasm and determination were contagious, and he pushed you to think critically about the artefacts and their historical significance.

In the end, the quiz ended in a draw, with both of you answering an impressive number of questions correctly.

You were touched by his effort to help you get back on track and stay engaged in the lesson. It was a small gesture, but it made you realise that maybe, just maybe, your rivalry could turn into something different.

The bus ride back to school after the museum trip had ended found you somehow seated in the final row between Wooyoung and San. Mingi couldn't resist throwing you sly glances, wiggling his brows in a playful manner. You scoffed and rolled your eyes at his antics, trying your best to ignore him.

As the journey continued, the rhythmic motion of the bus and the hum of the engine started to lull you to sleep.

Your eyelids grew heavy, and soon enough, your head swayed and landed on Wooyoung's shoulder, causing a few students to let out affectionate coos at the sight.

San, however, had other plans.

He gently moved your head from Wooyoung's shoulder over to his own, a small, smug smile playing on his lips as he watched you unconsciously snuggle closer to him.

Mingi, sitting nearby, widened his eyes at the unexpected turn of events, making a mental note to tell you about this later.

Wooyoung, on the other hand, looked away and focused his gaze out the window, his expression unreadable but clearly upset. It seemed like both San and Wooyoung were having an internal battle between themselves, each trying to win your attention and affection in their own way.

The tension between the two of them simmered beneath the surface, creating an unspoken rivalry that was beginning to take a toll on their friendship.

In the days following the museum trip, Wooyoung seemed to sense your need for some space and gave you a bit of room to sort through your feelings and thoughts.

The revelation that he wasn't your secret admirer had left you somewhat confused, and you found yourself wanting to uncover the mystery more than ever.

Mingi, always full of wild ideas, suggested that it could be San who was behind the anonymous gifts, especially considering his recent drastic change in behaviour toward you.

It wasn't entirely impossible, but you couldn't bring yourself to believe it.

After all, the gifts had started arriving when you and San were still rivals, and he had even mocked you for receiving them, insinuating that you might be sending them to yourself. The idea that he could be your secret admirer just didn't add up in your mind, and you were adamant that it couldn't be him.

There's no way in hell it could be Choi San.

As you sat alone on the bleachers one day, deep in thought, San suddenly appeared beside you, holding a carton of your favourite chocolate milk.

Your eyes widened in surprise.

The chocolate milk had become a special symbol of your connection with the secret admirer, and it left you wondering how San could possibly know about it.

He offered you the carton with a casual smile, his gaze meeting yours as if he had something important to say. The puzzle pieces in your mind began to shift.

Holy crap, could he be..?

"I found this on your desk, I'm guessing your secret admirer must have left it there." You let out a sigh of relief, realising that, of course, he couldn't have been the one behind this gesture.

He was just being friendly and helpful.

As he settled down beside you, he noticed the contemplative expression on your face and asked, "What's on your mind?"

You wondered when it had all begun, this change in his demeanour towards you. He was treating you so casually, almost like friends, and it left you both intrigued and perplexed.

But you chose not to voice your thoughts out loud, not wanting to risk a quarrel with him.

Instead, you decided to be honest and opened up about your problem with the secret admirer, "It's the thing with my secret admirer... It sucks but it bothers me that it isn't Wooyoung. I just can't figure out why I'm so disappointed by the truth. I guess I just... really wanted it to be him."

To your surprise, San offered you genuine advice.

"If you're disappointed that it's not Wooyoung," He began, "Maybe it's because he's not the one you truly like. Perhaps it's the secret admirer that you really want to be with."

His words struck a chord with you, and you couldn't help but ponder them. His insights were unexpected, and you found yourself considering whether your feelings for Wooyoung had been based on the wrong foundation all along.

It was a moment of introspection that left you with more questions than answers, but at least now, you had someone to discuss them with.

"Tell you what, I'll help you find out who this mysterious person is."

San's willingness to help you figure out the identity of your secret admirer took you by surprise. After all, it was San who had initially ridiculed you for receiving these anonymous gifts and had even been quite mean about it.

You expressed your genuine astonishment, turning to him with wide eyes, "You're really willing to help me with this?" You asked, still somewhat taken aback by his sudden change of heart.

He looked at you, his expression softening with a touch of guilt.

He admitted, "I shouldn't have said those mean words back then. I didn't mean them, and I wish I could take them back if it were possible."

His sincere apology caught you off guard, and you could see the regret in his eyes. You appreciated his honesty and his willingness to make amends, and you were thankful for his apology.

With San by your side, offering to help uncover the mystery of your secret admirer, you wondered if there was more to him than the rivalry that had defined your relationship until now. It was a surprising turn of events, and you were beginning to see a different side of him—one that left you curious and intrigued.

"Hey, San. Be honest with me, why the sudden change in attitude?"

Your curiosity got the better of you, and you finally mustered the courage to address the elephant in the room.

You observed him closely as you posed the question, watching as he attempted to keep his facial expression neutral. It was clear that he was holding back a lot when he finally answered.

"I guess I just... realised how childish I'd been the whole time," He began, his voice measured, "And I grew tired of all the unnecessary fighting between us. I also should've said this earlier but I... I'm really sorry for the way I've acted in the past, I know I was a complete jerk."

His words seemed plausible, but there was something in his eyes that suggested there might be more to the story. It wasn't entirely the truth, but you chose not to press further, not wanting to make him any more uncomfortable.

Instead, you accepted his explanation and appreciated his efforts to change for the better. It was a step towards building a more cordial relationship, and you were willing to see where it would lead.

As he had promised, he diligently assisted you in unravelling the mystery of your secret admirer. Consequently, the two of you ended up spending more time together than initially anticipated, and through this process, you gained a deeper understanding of him.

You came to recognise that when San set his mind to it, he could be just as caring and attentive as Wooyoung.

At this point, you had lost track of how many times he had managed to evoke emotions in you that you had once believed only his best friend could elicit.

The Choi San you now knew was a stark departure from the person you had first encountered, but you had no complaints about the transformation.

It wasn't until that one fateful day that you truly grasped the depth of your feelings for him.

'Hey buttercup, soz I can't walk home with you today. Got a meeting with my project groupmates, I'll see you at dinner tonight.' - Princess Minki💕

As you prepared to leave school, a sigh escaped your lips upon receiving Mingi's text about his meeting with his project groupmates, you resigned yourself to the idea of walking home alone. You didn't want to bother Wooyoung since he had been giving you space lately.

However, to your surprise, when you reached the school gates, you found San standing there, waiting.

You blinked in confusion, "San? Why are you here?"

He smiled, "I'm waiting for you. I saw Mingi leaving with his groupmates, so I thought I'd wait and walk you home."

Your heart did a little flip at his unexpected kindness, "Oh, you really don't have to do that," You said, genuinely touched by his gesture. But he insisted, his tone firm, "I wouldn't forgive myself if something happened to you while you walked home alone. It's the least I can do."

With a grateful smile, you nodded, feeling a warmth in your chest at the realisation that perhaps your relationship with San was slowly evolving into something more.

During your walk home with him, every step seemed to resonate with a sense of closeness that went beyond mere friendship.

The world around you faded into insignificance as he held the umbrella over both of you, sheltering you from the gentle drizzle that had started. The soft pattering of raindrops on the umbrella's surface created a soothing backdrop to your conversation.

His attention to detail was astonishing, like the way he would glance at you out of the corner of his eye when he thought you weren't looking, his gaze filled with a warmth that sent shivers down your spine.

Each shared joke felt like a secret shared between the two of you, a bond that was growing stronger with every laugh.

And when your bag slipped from your shoulder, hitting the ground with a thud, you expected to bend down to pick it up yourself, but before you could react, he had already swooped down to retrieve it for you.

His act of chivalry caught you off guard, making your heart skip a beat. It was these seemingly insignificant moments that left you questioning the nature of your feelings.

As your steps echoed in rhythm with his, you felt a magnetic pull towards him, and your thoughts began to revolve around this unexpected connection that was steadily blossoming between you two.

Without realising it, your focus gradually shifted entirely to San when you were with him. Unlike with Wooyoung, your thoughts no longer wandered to the mysterious secret admirer.

He had a unique way of capturing your full attention, and you found yourself drawn to him in a way you hadn't expected. It was a surprising development that left you in a state of denial about the butterflies he was stirring in your heart.

As you neared your home, engrossed in a conversation with him, you didn't notice the car that swerved dangerously close to the sidewalk. It happened in the blink of an eye, and before you could even react, San sprang into immediate action.

"Watch out!"

In an instant, he had wrapped his arms around you, shielding you from the potential crash.

Time seemed to slow down as you felt his strong, protective embrace. Your heart pounded in your chest, and the world around you blurred into insignificance as you found yourself pressed against his chest.

Once the danger had passed, you slowly pulled away, your breaths coming in shallow gasps.

You stared up at San, your eyes wide with a mixture of emotions. At first, you had feared for his safety, but now, as you gazed into his eyes, you felt your heart racing for an entirely different reason.

His eyes locked with yours, so full of emotion that it left you breathless. It was as if he had been so afraid of you being in harm's way, and that depth of concern was something you had never expected.

At that moment, everything seemed to change between you.

The world around you regained its focus, and you realised that you were still standing on the sidewalk, in the arms of the person who had just saved you from potential danger.

It was a powerful, intense moment that left your heart racing and your mind in turmoil as you tried to make sense of the emotions swirling within you.

The next morning, as you walked to school with Mingi, your heart was still racing from the previous day's encounter with San. The memory of his protective embrace and the intense moment that had followed played over and over in your mind.

As you approached the school gates, you scanned the crowd, looking for any sign of San.

It was almost as if your subconscious was seeking out his presence. And then, like a scene from a movie, you spotted him coming your way from the opposite direction.

Your breath caught in your throat as he drew closer, a warm smile spreading across his face, "Good morning." He greeted you, his voice friendly and genuine.

"Morning." You managed to reply, feeling a strange mix of excitement and nervousness.

San continued on his way, walking alongside Wooyoung, who had been right beside him the entire time. It was at that moment that you realised something shocking: you hadn't even noticed Wooyoung's presence until now.

The realisation hit you like a truck.

It wasn't Wooyoung who had occupied your thoughts, even when he was right next to San. It was San himself who had captured your attention, making you question your feelings and priorities.

You couldn't pinpoint exactly when it all started, but the vice president of the baseball club had somehow become a constant presence in your thoughts. And you had lost track of how many times your heart had fluttered just from catching a glimpse of him.

Almost everything seemed to trigger thoughts of San, and you now realise that these were reactions even Wooyoung couldn't elicit from you during the time you were crushing on him.

Mingi observed you quietly, having heard about what had happened with San the previous day.

He chose to remain silent, knowing that you needed time and space to process your thoughts and emotions. As your best friend, he wanted you to find clarity in your feelings, whatever they may be.

As you entered the classroom with Mingi, your eyes were immediately drawn to your desk, where your favourite chocolate milk sat, accompanied by the usual heartfelt note.

But this time, the note held a surprise.

It didn't contain the usual sweet message; instead, it instructed you to meet up on the rooftop during lunch break.

Your heart raced as you read the note, your eyes widening in astonishment. Your secret admirer was finally revealing themselves, taking the first step towards unveiling their identity.

You couldn't believe it was happening, and a sense of excitement mixed with nervousness coursed through you.

Showing the note to Mingi, you both exchanged wide-eyed glances, realising that the moment you had been waiting for had finally arrived.

It should have filled you with happiness, but deep down, a conflicted feeling gnawed at your heart. You couldn't believe that, despite all your initial reluctance, you found yourself secretly wishing that your secret admirer would turn out to be San.

Everything about him screamed that he couldn't possibly be the one behind the anonymous gifts and sweet notes.

But as determination welled up within you, you considered the possibility of rejecting your secret admirer, someone you had admired from a distance, in favour of someone you had never imagined having feelings for; San.

The thought left you grappling with a whirlwind of emotions as you prepared for the lunchtime rendezvous on the rooftop, unsure of what lay ahead.

The rest of the morning went by in a blur, you hadn't even the slightest clue what Mr. Kim had taught you all in class.

"You can do this, buttercup!"

Mingi encourages, pulling you in for a quick hug before he pushes you towards the staircase leading up to the school rooftop.

Anxiety gripped your heart as you made your way up to the rooftop, each step echoing your pounding heartbeat. You couldn't believe the moment had finally arrived to meet the person who had been behind all the gifts and notes that had brightened your days for the past few months.

Your mind raced with questions, doubts, and a flutter of hope.

As you reached the rooftop door, you hesitated for a moment before pushing it open. The anticipation in the air was palpable, and you could hardly contain the whirlwind of emotions churning inside you.

Your heart nearly stopped when you stepped onto the rooftop, your eyes falling upon the back of a familiar figure.

A sense of suspense hung heavy in the air, and you couldn't bring yourself to move or speak just yet. The person slowly turned around, and as their face came into view, your heart sank.

It was... Wooyoung.

Your disappointment was palpable as you uttered, "Oh, it's you," in a tone that betrayed your shattered expectations. You couldn't control your reaction, and it hurt to know that it wasn't the person you had secretly hoped for.

Unfortunately for you, Wooyoung had seen your reaction clearly.

He smiled sadly, a mixture of understanding and acceptance in his eyes. He had come here not to reveal himself as your secret admirer but to confirm that you didn't return his feelings so that he could finally move on.

Realising that you had hurt him with your reaction, you immediately apologised, "God, I'm so sorry, Woo. I didn't mean to sound disappointed."

Wooyoung's smile remained gentle as he reassured you, "It's fine, really. I understand."

He took a step closer to you and spoke softly, "But I think you should know that I'm not the one who has been sending you those gifts and notes."

Confusion and curiosity washed over you as you turned to face him, your heart pounding in your chest, "Then who is it?" You asked, unable to hide the eagerness in your voice.

Wooyoung smiled once more, but this time, his gaze drifted past you, "Your secret admirer is standing right behind you."

Your heart raced as you turned around slowly, each second feeling like an eternity as you wished desperately for it to be the person you'd come to secretly hope for.

Suspense hung in the air, almost suffocating, as you finally set your eyes on the figure standing there.

And then, you saw him.

Choi San.

Your heart soared at the sight of him, holding a bouquet of your favourite flowers in his hands. His smile was so sweet that it melted your heart, and you couldn't believe the person you had once despised could be your secret admirer.

Wooyoung, having fulfilled his own purpose, discreetly left you two alone for some privacy.

San walked up to you slowly, a playful "surprise" escaping his lips as he presented the bouquet to you. You accepted it shyly, your fingers brushing against the delicate petals, but you couldn't help the flood of questions that overwhelmed your mind.

Sitting together on the bench on the rooftop, you looked at him with a mixture of astonishment and confusion, "Is this some kind of prank?" You asked cautiously, your guard still up despite the sincerity in his eyes.

He shook his head gently, his gaze unwavering, "No, I promise you, this is not a prank," He assured you softly, his eyes locked with yours, "It really has been me all this time."

A wave of disbelief washed over you.

The person who had once been your rival, who had teased and challenged you relentlessly, was the same person who had been secretly showing you kindness and affection.

The contrast was staggering.

As you looked into his eyes, you couldn't believe how you had misunderstood him for so long, and why he had chosen to hide his true feelings behind the guise of a secret admirer.

There were so many questions, but one thing was clear: your perception of Choi San was about to change in ways you couldn't have imagined.

It was time to clear the air, to understand the mystery behind the secret admirer you had come to appreciate and admire, "Okay," You began, your voice tinged with scepticism, "You need to explain everything, from the beginning. How did this all start?"

San sighed, his eyes focused on the ground for a moment before meeting yours with a hint of regret.

"I guess it all started on that first day," He confessed, "It's true that I was having a really bad day when you bumped into me, I was actually going to apologise for being rude. But then you responded with so much feistiness that it intrigued me. I've never met a girl as gutsy as you, and I found it... attractive."

Your eyebrows shot up in surprise, "Wait, you found it attractive when I fought back?"

He chuckled, a faint blush colouring his cheeks.

"Yeah, I did. I was disappointed when you didn't react the way I expected during your first visit to the baseball club. I thought you'd fight back, but you left so timidly. So, I decided to ignore you the next time I saw you, hoping it would get a reaction out of you."

Your mind was reeling from this revelation.

The rivalry between you two had been initiated because he enjoyed seeing you argue back. It was a strange reason, but it explained a lot about his behaviour.

"So, you admired me because of our arguments?"

He nodded, a sheepish smile playing on his lips, "Yes, I admired your spirit and intelligence. But I also realised I couldn't express my admiration openly because of our rivalry. So, I chose to become your secret admirer."

You laughed at the irony of it all, "Wow, this is so unexpected. I thought you just enjoyed tormenting me," He grinned, a glint of mischief in his eyes, "Well, that was part of it. But there's more to it than just that."

As you continued to talk, you realised that the person you had once viewed as your rival had harboured feelings of admiration and attraction towards you all along.

San shifted uncomfortably on the bench, his expression more serious now, "There's... something else too." He began, his gaze fixed on the bouquet of flowers you held.

Your curiosity was piqued once again, "What is it?"

Taking a deep breath, he continued, "I... I know I stopped leaving you the notes and gifts at some point." You immediately knew what he was referring to, remembering how upset you had been.

He glanced at you, his eyes filled with a hint of remorse, "It was around the time I overheard Mingi teasing you about your crush on Wooyoung. It saddened me because I thought maybe it was time for you to focus on being with him."

You furrowed your brow, surprised by this revelation, "You stopped because of that?"

He nodded, his expression conflicted, "Yes. I didn't want to stand in the way of you and Wooyoung, especially since he's my best friend."

His lips curled into a small, self-deprecating smile, "And that's where I messed up. I thought it was a selfless act, but then I saw how upset you were at the absence of the gifts, and I decided to tease you about it. I wanted to see your reaction, and that's when I realised I really hurt your feelings."

Your eyes widened as you recalled that particular encounter, "I was genuinely angry that day," He nodded, his gaze downcast, "I deserved it. I realised that's not how you treat someone you like."

You both sat in silence for a moment, the weight of his confession sinking in. It all made sense now, that was the point when he had suddenly started being nicer to you.

It was clear that San had been struggling with his feelings and the situation had become even more complicated when he saw you growing closer to Wooyoung, just like everyone else, believing he was your secret admirer.

The jealousy he had felt was something he hadn't expected.

"But... why didn't you just talk to me about your feelings?" You finally asked, your voice soft. He sighed, his shoulders slumping, "I guess I was scared. Scared that if I revealed everything, I might lose our friendship, and I couldn't bear the thought of that."

You reached out and placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder, "San, you don't have to be scared anymore. We can figure this out together."

He looked up at you, his eyes reflecting a mix of relief and gratitude, "Thank you for understanding."

With your newfound understanding, you both continued your conversation, unravelling the complexities of your relationship and the unexpected twists and turns that had brought you to this moment.

The rooftop seemed to hold its breath as you absorbed all that San had shared with you.

The weight of the past few months, the ups and downs, the misunderstandings, and the revelations hung in the air. It was as though a puzzle had finally been pieced together, and you could see the bigger picture clearly now.

As you took a deep breath, you noticed that San was fidgeting, his gaze shifting between your eyes and the ground. There was something he needed to say or do, and the anticipation gnawed at you.

Finally, you couldn't contain your curiosity any longer.

"San," You began gently, "Is there something else on your mind?"

He looked up, meeting your eyes with a mixture of nervousness and determination. His voice was a bit shaky as he spoke, "Actually, there's one more thing I need to ask."

Your heart raced as you waited for him to continue, wondering what else could possibly be left unsaid after everything you'd discussed.

With a deep breath, he scooted closer to you, his eyes locking onto yours, "I've liked you for a long time now, and I've realised that I don't want to hide it anymore. I want to be with you. So, um... Would you be willing to be my girlfriend?"

Your breath caught in your throat, your heart pounding loudly in your chest.

This was the moment you had never expected but secretly hoped for. You looked into his earnest eyes, and a warmth spread through you, washing away any lingering doubts or hesitations.

A smile broke across your face, and it was filled with genuine happiness, "Yes, San. I'd love to be your girlfriend."

His expression shifted from nervousness to pure joy, a radiant smile matching yours. He reached for your hand, and you willingly entwined your fingers with his, sealing the moment.

It felt as though the weight of all the misunderstandings, rivalry, and secrets had been lifted, leaving behind a newfound connection and the promise of something beautiful between you and Choi San.

As your hands remained entwined and the smile lingered on your faces, he felt a surge of happiness and anticipation. The rooftop, once a place filled with secrets and uncertainties, was now a witness to the beginning of something new.

He leaned in closer, his heart pounding louder with each inch he closed. The moment felt right, and he was ready to kiss you, to seal this new chapter between you two. But just as he was about to close the gap, you suddenly asked another question, pulling him back from the brink of that sweet, anticipated moment.

"Wait," You said with a curious expression, "So, Wooyoung knew about you being my secret admirer this whole time?"

San blinked, caught off guard by the unexpected interruption. He chuckled at your inquisitiveness, "Well," He began, "Not exactly. He found out on the day of the school trip when my jealousy got the best of me."

You chuckled along with him, realising how strange and tangled the web of emotions and secrets had become. He continued, "We decided to have a fair competition from then on, letting you be the one to choose who you liked more."

Your laughter filled the rooftop as you shook your head in disbelief at the absurdity of it all, "I can't believe all this drama happened behind the scenes."

He grinned, his thumb gently caressing your hand, "Life's full of surprises. But hey, at least it all worked out in the end."

With that, he leaned in once more, and this time, there were no more interruptions. Your lips met, sealing your newfound relationship with a sweet and memorable kiss.

On that rooftop, amidst the laughter and revelations, you and San found the beginning of something beautiful, free from rivalry and filled with the promise of love.

As the days turned into weeks, your relationship with San blossomed, and soon enough, you became the talk of the school.

The first time the students saw you both showing up hand in hand, they gasped in disbelief. Whispers and surprised glances followed your every move. But the attention didn't faze you or San; you were too wrapped up in each other to care.

San became a constant presence in your life.

He'd walk you to your first-period class, bending down to plant a gentle kiss on your lips before heading to his own. During lunch breaks, he'd wait for you patiently, and you'd share meals and laughter with Mingi, whose perpetual presence as the third wheel now felt like an integral part of your daily life.

Wooyoung, once a central figure in your life, gracefully accepted your rejection. He moved on, finding happiness elsewhere, and he was genuinely happy for you and his best friend.

The baseball club's dynamics might have shifted slightly, but it remained as strong as ever, with you visiting occasionally to watch their practices and games.

Your relationship with San brought not only love but also newfound friendships.

San and Mingi grew exceptionally close, despite your boyfriend's initial annoyance at your best friend's constant presence. The two eventually bonded over their shared affection for you and their mutual admiration for each other.

With each passing day, your connection with San deepened, and you found yourself falling in love with him more and more. The days of rivalry were long behind you, replaced by a sweet romance that left you both feeling fortunate to have found each other.

On a bright, sunny afternoon, you and your boyfriend found yourselves on the school rooftop, enjoying a cute little picnic date. The rooftop had become your special spot, a place where you could escape the hustle and bustle of school life and just be together.

As you laid out a checkered blanket, he couldn't resist stealing a sweet kiss from your lips. Your laughter filled the air, and you playfully pushed him away before retreating into his warm embrace.

His fingers gently traced patterns on your arm as he gazed into your eyes, a look of pure adoration on his face.

San, his eyes soft and contemplative, looked out over the campus below before turning his gaze toward you, "You know, I've been thinking... Would you have liked me if I hadn't riled you up so much when we first met?"

Your smile widened as you considered his question.

It was true; your initial encounters with San were filled with endless banter and rivalry. But as you thought back on those moments, you realised something profound.

"Ooh, that's an interesting question. Honestly, a part of me is glad you did. It made your presence known, and, well, quite impactful," He smirked, "Impactful, huh? So, you miss those days of constant teasing and rivalry?"

Your heart skipped a beat as you weighed your response carefully.

The truth was, while those early days had been filled with challenges and unknowing sparks flying between you two, you wouldn't trade the bond you now shared for anything else.

Shaking your head, you responded, "Not at all! I much prefer the sweet boyfriend you are now."

His eyes sparkled with affection as he inched closer to you. He couldn't resist the warmth of your words and the love that radiated from your gaze. Tenderly, he cupped your cheek and pressed a soft kiss to your lips.

"God, I love you so much." He whispered against your lips.

Your heart swelled with happiness, and in that intimate rooftop setting, your love was sealed with a sweet, lingering kiss.

But just as the romantic atmosphere began to envelop you both, a loud groan interrupted your moment, "Jesus Christ! Get a room, you two! We're in school, for Pete's sake!"

You rolled your eyes and snapped your head up to see your best friend standing at the entrance to the rooftop, grinning mischievously despite the complaints as he approached with a familiar carton of your favourite chocolate milk in hand.

"Surprise!" Mingi announced, offering you the coveted treat, "I thought you might want this."

You laughed as you accepted the milk, realising that even on your private date, Mingi managed to insert himself into the picture. It was one of those quirks that made your friendship all the more special.

With the three of you now lounging on the rooftop, surrounded by the warmth of friendship and newfound love, Mingi couldn't help but reflect on how drastically things had changed.

He spoke with a playful tone, "You know, it's kind of funny. You two were literally at each other's throats for as long as I can remember. And now, look at you, all in love with each other."

You and San shared a fond look, both realising that sometimes, the most unexpected journeys lead to the most beautiful destinations. As you cuddled close, basking in the joy of the present moment, you knew that your love story was a testament to the power of change, friendship, and the unexpected.

Your love story had its share of twists and turns, but in the end, it was a tale of two hearts finding their way to each other, against all odds.

Well damn, this turned out slightly longer than I'd planned.

Anyway, hope y'all liked this! Thank you for reading and as always, I'd love to hear all your thoughts on the story so feel free to leave as many replies as you want! <3

Also, do let me know if you wish to be added to the permanent tag list for all my works (or if you wish to be removed, I'd understand).

Tag list: @aurasblue @marievllr-abg

All Rights Reserved © edenesth // DO NOT REPOST, TRANSLATE, PLAGIARISE OR REPURPOSE.

[eff4freddie]

After She Left | Three

Words: 5.3k

You have your first tutoring session with Ellie, while Joel goes out on patrol. It goes reasonably well, flower penises not withstanding.

Chapter warnings: descriptions of a panic attack, canon-typical violence, slooooow burn

Two | Series Masterlist | Four

He was really trying, but there were just some things he was struggling to get used to. It seemed like Ellie had adapted perfectly back to life in a community, having grown up in a QZ, but Joel was finding it hard. There were just always people around. People who smiled and greeted him with a nod, people who asked him how his day had been and seemed genuinely interested in the answer, people who weren’t trying to take his stuff, kill him, kill his daughter. He wanted to trust it, could see the way Tommy’s pink cheeks had filled out from the lack of stress, examined his own features in the mirror and saw the way his mouth permanently turned down, felt the way his jaw clicked and rolled in its joint from the strain of the last twenty or so years. There was something uncomfortable in how comfortable everything was. He was trying to find the reason, and starting to suspect it was him.

Tommy had put him on patrols, figuring this was the best of Joel’s skills available to Jackson. His patrol partner, Guillaume, was French-Canadian and fancy as fuck by comparison, had spent some time in the French Foreign Legion before coming back to Canada right before the outbreak, and he was both disciplined and elegant in a way that Joel admired and found intimidating. He could barely pronounce the man’s name, let alone make conversation. Joel had never been to Canada. Had heard it was pretty, always wanted to visit the Rockies, but first there was school and then there was Sarah and then there was everything that came after that. Guillaume was, if Joel had to guess, at least ten years younger, maybe closer to fifteen. Joel could tell by the way he didn’t groan when pulling himself up out of a crouch.

But still, out here beyond the wall, he felt more himself then stuck behind it. Even if the QZ, in his smuggling days, he’d felt hemmed in and suburban stuck in his tiny apartment, had jumped at the chance to venture out. It wasn’t just about the ration cards, or survival, even if it might have started out that way. Something in him, the dormant wolf he guessed, liked the open space, liked the prowling and the protecting, felt the pulse of Jackson’s neck between his teeth.

Guillaume was up ahead, Joel’s horse following his as they worked the perimeter. Joel’s mind was wondering, thinking back to Ellie in that little schoolhouse, wondering how long before she got itchy feet too, when he realised the other man had stopped.

‘What is it, Gollum?’ Joel asked, the hair raising on the back of his neck.

‘Someone has been here,’ Guillaume said, in a whisper. ‘The dirt has been disturbed.’

Joel followed the younger man’s eye and could indeed see that there were patches of ground, indentations in the long grass.

‘We should track ‘em,’ Joel said, scanning the treeline. Up ahead, maybe thirty paces, he spotted a broken tree branch at roughly shoulder height. Wordlessly he pointed it out to Guillaume, who nodded.

‘Dismount?’ Joel asked, watching the younger man reach for the knife strapped to his thigh. Guillaume nodded again, making a gesture with his hand Joel couldn’t quite figure out, but assumed it meant shut up ya fuckin’ hillbilly and stop tryina blow our cover.

The two men, despite their size and, in Joel’s case, age, could be surprisingly quiet. They covered the 30 paces to the treeline in a matter of seconds, their footsteps lost to the sound of the wind in the trees. Joel could feel his breath coming in tight and cold across his chest, his own knife gripped in his hand now, hoping he still had the strength in his hands, that his knuckles weren’t so swollen, so chipped, that he couldn’t do damage with them if he needed to. He swallowed, hard, his eyes on Guillaume’s six as the light faded under the canopy.

Another ten paces, a bent tree branch, a couple of light footsteps in the undergrowth. All of it indicated someone had been here recently, the wind not yet having erased the evidence. They were about a 40-minute ride from Jackson, maybe a day and a half’s walk, but there was nothing to indicate whether the person was coming towards them or moving away. In the silence Joel heard his ears ringing, crouching slightly, coiled tight like a spring.

Guillaume waved to him, indicating more tracks veering off to the right, but Joel had found his own set, moving in a straight line further into the trees. He peered into the encroaching darkness, the thicket of underbrush and density of the trunks consuming any light. Neither of them had brought a torch for a daytime patrol.

Reconvening, Guillaume and Joel silently discussed, using their hands and mouthing the words into the air between them, whether the tracks belonged to the same person. Guillaume believed that they did, that this person had doubled back, perhaps become disoriented, delirious, maybe even bitten. Joel was less sure, not willing to rule out a second person, maybe even a third. Guillaume wanted to continue to follow the trail, gesturing impatiently for Joel to follow, but Joel had one eye on the horses, tied up and exposed just on the treeline, felt like if it was more than one person they would need a few patrolmen to work the line.

Guillaume sighed, exasperated, the creaking trees absorbing the sound. With his hands, Joel offered to write the report in the logbook. That seemed to appease the younger man, somewhat.

--

You rolled your shoulders, heard the little crinkle of the muscles as they stretched around the base of your skull. You’d been thinking about it, probably too much, all the things you were going to teach Ellie. Armed with a couple of textbooks and a patchy memory of your own classes, you’d already decided you were going to start with history, maybe talk to her about some of the bigger battles, having the sense that this would be up her alley. If she liked that, maybe you could get her reading some of the books you’d scrounged over the years, managed to beg for if you knew patrols were heading into formerly suburban areas. You didn’t need much, just a couple of the classics. You had a vision, a dream, of Ellie reading War and Peace, or even Crime and Punishment. You knew she’d like them if she had the context, if she could sit still long enough.

You made your way to the Miller house, your arms carrying the lesson you’d spent all night planning in your head. You weren’t going to go too hard too early on the academic stuff, you were going to figure out what she liked. You didn’t want it to be super formal, super structured, but you still wanted to balance the need for academics against the need to make it interesting, engaging enough that she stuck it out. You remembered your little sister was a great reader, had bemoaned the lack of books in the QZ.

Ellie opened the door, her bare feet padding down the hallway as she beckoned you in over her shoulder.

‘Hey, I’m just having lunch, come in,’ she said, casually as she disappeared around the corner.

‘Not mac and cheese I hope?’ you asked, wondering if Joel was here too, if he would hear your little joke, maybe give you another one of those lopsided smirks.

‘Nah, don’t think we’ll do that shit again for a real long time,’ Ellie said, smiling as she spooned porridge into her bowl. ‘You want some?’

‘I already ate, thanks though,’ you said.

Ellie nodded her head, half listening.

‘S’cool you’re doing this for me,’ she said, and you smiled at her.

‘Of course.’

‘Joel said it’s important,’ she went on.

‘I agree,’ you said.

‘Now that it’s not just about…surviving.’

You paused, watching her for a moment. She seemed sad, just for a second, for as long as she could tolerate, before she was shovelling rolled oats into her mouth. ‘I gotta wonder why bother, though,’ she said, and she was looking at you now, chewing but with her eyes glued to yours, watching your reaction.

‘Education is always important,’ you said, and she swallowed so she could interrupt you.

‘Yeah but like, what for? I’m gonna do patrols as soon as I’m old enough, and you don’t need books for that.’

‘You could do more than patrols, though, Ellie, and really it’s important to be thoughtful, and to think critically, if you’re going to plan out an expedition or keep yourself safe.’

‘Joel’s been teaching me that for ages,’ she said, as though this was the definitive answer on the topic. You swallowed.

‘I guess the thing is… life would be pretty dull if all you did was patrols, and you didn’t take the time to be…’ Human. You wanted to say human. To be a person. So many people you’d met over the years had forgotten that part. You knew the dangers of it, the cruelty it allowed. ‘…to think, and to use your mind in a different way.’

She considered you for a second.

‘I’ve met some really dumb people, they didn’t think at all.’ She chewed, and you let her mull it over. ‘I don’t wanna be like them,’ she concluded. You nodded your head, opening the book in front of you. Good enough.

--

Back in Jackson the noise of the main street, the laughter and play of the kids, the chatter of women and men standing out on the street, the construction of the new town hall, all of it assaulted Joel’s ears enough that it made it impossible to concentrate. He wanted to get back to the stables, dismount and tend to the horses, then find Tommy as fast as he could.

He found his brother outside the mess hall chewing on an apple. He saw his brother’s expression shift as he rounded on him.

‘Tommy,’ Joel started, gripping his brother by the arm and pulling him to stand more upright, more at attention.

‘Whassgoanon?’ Tommy asked, around a mouthful, seeing the urgency on Joel’s face.

‘Tracks, we found tracks, me and Gollum.’

‘Comin’ere?’ Tommy asked, and Joel shook his head.

‘Don’t know, not sure, hard to tell. Didn’t find anyone, just tracks and some branches. Gollum wanted to try and track ‘em but I said we needed to come back, bring back more men.’

‘You think it was more than one?’

‘Not sure, Gollum didn’t think so but didn’t make sense, what he was sayin’. About a person maybe getting lost, how could he tell that just from the ground?’

‘He was in the army out in France,’ Tommy said, wiping his mouth.

‘This ain’t France,’ Joel grunted.

‘So, you didn’t try and track them?’ Tommy asked, and watched as Joel shook his head. ‘Could have been someone in trouble.’

‘Coulda been a pack of raiders, or an infected.’

‘You heard nothin’?’ Tommy asked, and Joel shook his head again.

‘Looked like fresh tracks, though,’ he said.

Tommy regarded him carefully, noticing now for the first time the worried look in Joel’s eye, the way he was fidgeting, his impatience.

‘You know you coulda tried to find out more,’ Tommy suggested, gently, and watched as his big brother’s eyes darkened.

‘You weren’t out there, you didn’t know. It felt wrong, is all.’ Joel said. ‘We coulda been outnumbered, we coulda been shot in the back of the head never even seen it coming.’

Tommy considered this, considered his brother, what he must have seen, what he must have gone through to get here, to bring Ellie with him, keep her alive. He hadn’t asked what happened to Tess, hadn’t pressed for the details. He knew that his brother would give them to him if he felt like it, and that Tommy would probably wait forever.

‘Brother, it’s OK if you ah…if you’re not…’

‘I’m doin’ fine, just don’t want to go running off after a pack of raiders because Gollum don’t reckon there’s a threat.’

‘I get that,’ Tommy said.

‘So you comin’ or what?’ Joel asked, finding it hard to stand in one place all of a sudden.

‘To look at some branches and some dirt however many miles outside these walls?’ Tommy asked, and saw the way Joel’s eyes were darting around, back to the stables, over to the gates. ‘Nah, brother, if they’re out there they ain’t getting’ in here.’

‘Just wanted backup, thought it would be better,’ Joel said. He could feel heat on his cheeks, his tummy twisting and unsettled in a strange way.

‘Y’know she’s safe here,’ Tommy said, and Joel grunted, tired of the conversation, of being condescended to by his idiot brother, soft after years of living behind a secure gate.

‘I know it,’ he said, not bothering to hide the frustration in his voice. ‘Told ya I was fine.’

--

Ellie was getting tired even though you’d only been working for two or so hours, the light turning golden as the afternoon settled in. You’d sat her up at the kitchen table but now you realised she was feeling restless, that the walls were closing in on her. You’d been going over World War I, in the lead up to the Great Depression, but she was struggling with all the different countries and you’d started to realise you maybe needed to get her an atlas first. It wasn’t the first time you’d been confronted with trying to teach the whole of human history to kids without any frame of reference with which to understand. But you persisted, because they needed to know it, because they were going to carry the history of the world in their words and their stories, because without them knowing, without them holding it, humanity would finally be wiped clear.

‘Maybe let’s switch it up,’ you said to Ellie, who was slumping over on her forearms, her chin resting in her hands.

‘Yes please,’ she said.

‘How about we do some botany?’ you asked, and she couldn’t hide her disappointment.

‘What’s that mean?’ she asked, barely raising her head.

‘It means let’s go sit outside, sit in the sun for a while.’

The Miller house was one of the originals in Jackson, which meant that it still had a little fenced area out back, where years and years ago someone might have been able to grill while watching their kids play under a sprinkler on a hot day. It also meant, though, that it was overgrown, the plants long having gone to seed, the grass thick and wild. You sat with Ellie on the edge of the porch, looking out at the weeds and the wildflowers. It reminded you of her.

‘Ok, so let’s talk about how plants pollenate,’ you said, picking a flower and dropping it into Ellie’s hands. ‘The thing about plants is that they need each other to grow. Flowers reproduce like humans do, so that means they need…’

‘Wait,’ Ellie said, her face incredulous. ‘Are you saying flowers have penises?’

‘Umm…well kind of?’ you said, trying to be serious as she broke out into fits of giggles.

‘This whole yard is full of dicks?’

‘Stamens,’ you said, and Ellie grinned again. ‘And other flowers make umm, well kind of like eggs I guess, that need the pollen that the stamen produce.’

‘This is sick,’ Ellie said, and you were trying not to grin at her, the warmth of the sun on your skin making you forget that you were supposed to be the serious adult in this situation.

‘It’s nature, Ellie.’

‘So out there right now,’ Ellie said, gesturing again to the yard, ‘is a plant orgy?’

You paused.

‘I mean…’ you started, and it was enough for Ellie to see that she was right, and she was howling then, doubled over with giggles.

‘Grossssssss,’ she said, and you were again reminded of how young she was, how exposed to such terrors in so many ways and so innocent of others.

‘I haven’t told you the best bit,’ you said, about to regret it but going for it anyway. ‘The pollen can’t easily get to the eggs without help, so things like bees or beetles or sometimes animals pass by the flowers and spread it around.’

‘Oh my god it’s a floral threesome,’ Ellie said, and you were trying not to giggle now, Ellie’s laughter creating little bubbles of joy in the air between you such that you couldn’t resist them, let them envelope you.

‘Are you learning anything right now?’ you asked, and Ellie shook her head.

‘Just that the world’s more fucked up than I thought,’ she said. You sighed.

‘What about cordyceps?’ she asked, suddenly, and you saw her pull on her sleeve. ‘Is that like…is that an orgy too? Inside people?’

Her face was serious now, and you felt the conversation shift.

‘No, fungus is what they actually call asexual, it doesn’t do the pollen thing, it does spores.’

Ellie considered this for a moment, and you watched the cogs turn in her head. ‘That seems right,’ she said, eventually. ‘There’s nothing sexy about those clicking motherfuckers.’

‘Ok, language,’ you said, and she glared at you, offended. ‘Sorry but I am here to do a job.’

‘I’m right though,’ she said, crushing the flower you’d given her in her fingers, rubbing the pollen between her palms, rolling it into a kind of paste.

--

Joel was not fine. Down at the mess hall he kept seeing Gollum and his younger friends, the bunch of them huddled over a map of the area, tracing the river up by the dam to see if they could work out where a person might wonder if they got lost. It was stupid, Joel knew any person coming up this way was coming because they had heard of the fabled safe haven beyond the gates, where the infected couldn’t tread and where raiders were kept at bay. Where there was safety and children and the world was going on, this tiny little piece of heaven that would surely welcome any comers brave enough to walk their way up to it.

He chewed his dinner like it had personally insulted him, wondering briefly where Ellie was. Wasn’t like her to miss dinner, but she was also starting to make some of her own friends, arcing away from him in that way that teenage girls do, and he was fighting down the panic, the searing abandonment, to let her go and be at home here, to find herself a place. Everything that had gone down in Salt Lake was to give her this, a chance at a future, at a normal life. He wasn’t going to mess it up now just because he missed her.

He'd been thinking of her the moment Guillaume said he wanted to keep going, knew in his bones, in his sinew, that if they were set upon he wouldn’t be fast enough, wouldn’t be able to get back to Jackson on his own, to warn the town, to send it into lockdown. Guillaume had a chance, but not if there were more than a handful of them and not if Joel had already fallen. Joel knew that his body and Guillaume’s would be lost to the mud they’d be left in when they were slaughtered where they stood. Then it would be on to Jackson, to Ellie and Tommy and Maria asleep in their beds.

He felt it starting to grip him, the tight little hand of panic wrapping itself up in his lower intestine and tugging, the shift in his heartrate sending tremors into his hands. Ellie tucked up in her bed thinking her dad was out there protecting her, not knowing the walls were being breached as she slept. Joel tried to swallow, found that his throat was too dry, dropped his spoon onto his plate and reached up to pull at his collar, give himself some room. Ellie’s blood seeping into her sheets, her last gasping breath wondering where her daddy was. Joel coughed, felt like his throat was closing, his ears ringing loud enough to drown out the mess hall around him. Blood on his shirt and on his arms, hands held tight and firm over punctured skin.

Joel stood up so fast he nearly kicked his chair over, the food turning sour in his gut as he strode out of the mess hall. Time to get air, time to get home, time to find Ellie and put her safe in the house, stand by the door and stop anyone from entering. He got home in record time, his heart thumping hard and insistent in his chest. He just needed to see her for a second, make sure she was alright, and then he would be able to breathe again.

Pulling open his front door hard enough to take it off the hinges, he called for her, his voice bouncing down the hall. He called again, his boots thumping into the living room, finding it empty, feeling his mind starting to unravel, his thoughts whirring faster than he could catch them. He tried again, preparing to take to the stairs when he heard the backdoor swinging open.

‘You finally home old man?’ she called, and he turned towards it, his legs carrying him in the direction of her voice before he’d even really thought about it.

‘Ellie?’ he called again, rounding the corner to find her standing, bare foot and smiling in the last of the afternoon light.

‘You eat already?’ she asked, and he felt the slack return to his muscles, the breath expand again into the bottom of his lungs. He felt shaky and woozy, wanted to sit down and also pull her to him, check her over just to try and ease his racing mind.

‘I could go and get something,’ you called from over her shoulder, and Joel felt his stomach drop, again, peering around his daughter as he saw you perched on the edge of the porch, a textbook in your lap and a notepad on the ground in front of you, covered in Ellie’s scrawl.

‘Hi Joel,’ you said, when he came into view. You waved to him, shyly, and tried very hard not to take it personally when he just panted in your general direction.

‘You’re being weird,’ Ellie observed, and Joel turned his eyes back to her. His heart was still racing, his hands still trembling, but he was home and so was Ellie, and now so were you, and he had interrupted a moment of innocence, a moment ripped from the future he had bought for Ellie with blood, and he was a fool and a coward and a very, very tired one at that.

‘Ate already, but you guys keep learnin’,’ he said, his voice gravelly and unsure. He rested his hand on his chest, right at the base of his sternum, and tried to breathe into it.

‘You OK?’ you asked, moving to stand up, but he held his hands up to you.

‘No, stay,’ he said, moving back from the door and into the house, his feet carrying him into the kitchen. ‘I won’t threaten to cook for you, let me go back to the mess and get you somethin’. Both of you somethin’.’

After he was gone, Ellie turned to you.

‘He was being weird,’ she repeated.

--

Joel sat on the couch in the living room, listening to you and Ellie chat. You’d been at his place almost all day, teaching and entertaining his girl, and you didn’t seem to be tired at all. Joel was exhausted, his bones creaking. He still felt out of sorts, a knot in his stomach at the thought of someone prowling outside the walls. He had to remember what Tommy had said, that they weren’t going to get in unless invited. He had to put trust in other people to believe it, though, and he’d learned long ago that’s not how you stay alive.

He heard Ellie giggling again, and he tuned back in to your conversation.

‘Does Joel know about the plant dicks?’ Ellie was asking, and he was up and heading in.

‘Do I know about the what?’ he asked, and he turned to you, saw that you were furiously blushing. You’d both finished your stew, were now just sitting at the table, Ellie leaning all the way back on her chair.

‘Flowers have dicks and they’re constantly orgy-ing each other,’ Ellie said.

‘Orgy’s not a verb,’ you said, because you were going to make this conversation educational if it fucking killed you.

‘What the hell you girls been doin’ all day?’ Joel asked, pretending to be offended. Ellie laughed, seeing through it immediately.

‘Nothin’ you need to worry about anymore, old man,’ she said, and she laughed again when Joel swatted her comment away. You couldn’t help noticing, because you were trained to watch, that Ellie started dropping her g’s when Joel was around.

Joel pulled out a chair and sat down beside you, glancing down at the books piled up, now closed, on the table.

‘She been good to ya today?’ he asked you, nodding his head towards Ellie.

‘She did a great job,’ you said, really meaning it. ‘I didn’t expect to be here so long, I’m sorry if I’ve overstayed.’

He waved this comment away, too.

‘Happy to have you here looking after her, feel better knowin’ she’s got someone here.’

‘I’m sittin’ right here y’know,’ Ellie said, and you turned to her.

‘Sorry, I used to hate when the adults talked about me like I wasn’t there, that’s my bad,’ you said. She nodded at you, accepting your apology.

‘Canna go see Dina?’ she asked Joel, and he nodded.

‘It’s late, don’t be long,’ he called after her, but she was already up and heading down the hall.

‘She really did do well today,’ you said to him, and he nodded at you.

‘She’s a bright girl,’ he replied. You heard the front door slam, taking it as your cue to leave.

‘Wait,’ Joel said, reaching out and nearly taking your arm, stopping himself just in time. ‘I wanted to…ask you somethin’.’

‘Course,’ you said, sitting back down.

‘You ever get…I mean you work in that schoolhouse, and it’s so…the whole place here it’s just like…’

He was floundering, and he knew it, and he couldn’t stop it.

‘I had a hard time when I first got here,’ you said, throwing him a lifeline that he snatched up, held fast to his chest. ‘It felt like…I don’t know, like a mirage?’

Joel nodded. ‘Keep waitin’ to wake up, back in some forest somewhere.’

‘Yeah, I remember that,’ you said. ‘I mean it’s been a while, but I remember that feeling. Not being able to trust it.’

You watched as Joel stared down at his own hands, picking at the cuticles. You sensed he wanted to say more, and also that he wasn’t going to allow himself to. You waited.

 ‘I felt like that, in your schoolhouse,’ he said, trying to explain in a way that would make sense, hoping you would understand enough that he didn’t have to say it out loud. ‘Took me back to before. Couldn’t believe my eyes, felt like time travel. Would have spun me out ‘cept you were there.’

‘What did I do?’ you asked, surprised.

‘Don’t rightly know, but you did it,’ he said, simply.

‘In the schoolhouse, you felt like it was before? It felt too normal?’ you asked, and he nodded.

‘Too comfortable,’ he agreed.

‘Give it time, maybe?’ you suggested.

‘Just want her to do good here,’ he said, and you knew he meant Ellie, and that he was keeping you here at his kitchen table, telling you this, so that you would come back, so that you would keep trying for her. You didn’t know what he’d done to get her here, but you knew it must have been terrible because it couldn’t have been anything else, and now he was asking you to make it worth it, and you were surprised by how fervently you wanted to.

‘She will, and you will too,’ you said, and you realised you’d reached out and put your hand on his, and that his eyes had travelled to yours, and now you were gazing at each other, a little bit of shock on both of your faces at the electricity pumping out of your hand and into his skin, at the weight and the heat of it. Joel felt it travelling up his arm and into his chest, felt it start to cauterise a wound he hadn’t realised he was carrying. He cleared his throat, and you pulled back, sliding your hand to your chair and sitting on it lest it reached out to this man in front of you of its own accord again.

‘Didn’t mean to lay all that on ya,’ he said, feeling exposed, suddenly. Shy. You were too warm and too kind and too close in his kitchen. He’d just meant to thank you. Now he was stumblin’ over his words.

‘It’s OK,’ you said, feeling the shift in him, again, the way he was closing off. ‘But I better get going, I’m on the wall tomorrow.’

‘Yeah? You do that, too?’

‘I do, I like it. I feel like I’m helping, like I’m maybe keeping people safe.’ You were standing, gathering your books into your arms. Joel stood, too, his full height and his full breadth expanding into the air around you. ‘Never seen much, sometimes a clicker or two, one time thought it was a man coming up on all fours. Turned out to be a badger.’ Joel grinned, huffing out a quiet laugh.

‘They can be ferocious.’

‘Thank you!’ you exclaimed. ‘Everyone laughed at me, but you want a badger running around Jackson? No, you do not.’

Joel was laughing now, buoyed somewhat by your indignation. ‘No ma’am,’ he said, smiling warmly at you in a way that made your tummy flip.

‘You got the day off?’ you asked, and he nodded. ‘What’re you gonna do with your time?’

His smile faltered. He wasn’t entirely sure, if he was honest. You sensed his hesitation, kicking yourself for prying. ‘That’ll help,’ you said, ‘if you can get a hobby, find something you like, it’ll feel normal quicker. Doesn’t have to be for anyone but you, you already do enough.’

‘Used to like whittlin’, I guess,’ he said. ‘Been a while, probably cut my damn finger off.’

‘That sounds great,’ you replied. ‘Relaxing.’

Your arms were getting tired from the books, but you didn’t want to go just yet, not until he was feeling better, not until you’d managed to get the slightly haunted look off his face. He was nodding at you, but he still seemed unsure. ‘If you wanna, I could use some figurines for the classroom,’ you said, thinking wildly.

‘Oh yeah?’ he said, and you nodded your head.

‘Tried to teach them about the ocean last week. You know how hard it is to describe a whale to kids that haven’t seen anything bigger than whatever they can catch in the lake?’

Joel was smiling again, now, and you felt the warmth of it on your face. ‘No pressure, though,’ you raced to say, suddenly worried you’d accidentally given him another job.

He shook his head, dismissing your concerns. ‘Might need to start smaller than a whale,’ he said. ‘Seein’ as how I’d need a whole lot of wood.’

‘I’ll take whatever you can give me,’ you said. ‘Any sea creature you can. Just please, not a flower. I’ve heard enough about flower penises for a long while.’

He laughed, then, a big boisterous full-sized thing. It set your heart racing, pulled a smile onto your lips. You heard Ellie’s laughter in it, saw her smile as you sat on the back porch in the last light of the afternoon. You saw the wildflowers and the long grass in it, the shock of gold against a perfectly blue sky.

Taglist (let me know if you'd like me to add you) @harriedandharassed

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[artificial-transmutations]

Closer Than Flesh - Names

The presence of the demon fades, while Jake watches his body change again. He hopes that he will return to his original body now, and that all of this is nothing but a weird and bad dream.

And really, his skin takes on a lighter color again, filling him with hope for a moment before he notices that the rest of his features don't match the body he has grown up with. The dusting of light hair on his chest, leading down his belly to his groin doesn't disappear. Instead, it even grows a tiny bit denser. However, while the short black hairs were clearly visible against his previous skin, it becomes less obvious by the second, as his body hair color changes to a wheaty blond. Jake can only suspect his main hair doing the same.

While the Arab body he was in before had the toned physique of someone working out in the gym, his new one seems to possess a more practical kind of fitness. His arm muscles grow, as if they are used to lift heavy weights on a daily basis. His abdomen on the other hand gets less pronounced, even taking on a light layer of fat.

Some slight scars form on his arms and chest, while his shoulders broaden. Not enough to tell a tale of battles or combats, but definitely enough to make clear that this body's profession is more physical and less mental. His legs and feet quickly fall into place as well: sturdy and male, with a light coating of wheat colored hair and hard earned firm muscles. His cock stays just as big as it was, but also changes to fit in with his new body. The hefty shaft is now residing on a badly groomed blond bush.

Unlike his last change, though, the magic doesn't stop at Jake's body. First, a layer of dirt appears all over him, a stark contrast to the clean guy he was before. It's mainly mud and dust, but clings to him easily because of the damp layer of sweat pouring out of his skin, even dripping from his brow.

Next, clothing starts to materialize. His cock is wrapped into a jock strap that has seen better days for sure. Before Jake can think about just how often the piece of clothing probably had been worn, soaked up sweat and has been washed, only to be worn again, a pair of khaki work pants forms over the piece of underwear, encrusted with dried up mud and various stains. His torso is covered by a wife beater that is in a similar state as the jock strap now hidden from sight.

That seems to conclude the changes to Jake and the world pours in again, filling the empty void around him.

Jake finds himself still outside, but the scene couldn't have been less similar to the one he had just left. He is standing in bright sunlight, on a busy construction site. People are yelling at each other and are generally busy. Jake takes a moment to just feel the warm sunlight on his skin, which is a welcome change from the wet darkness he was in just a little bit ago.

Jake is so lost in his observations that he only notices the other man as he snaps his fingers in front of Jake's face.

"Hello, Marcel! Anyone home?"

Jake looks confused for a moment. What Marcel? Then it dawns on him that it comes as no surprise that this body probably has another name than Jake.

He shakes his head slightly and looks at the other man. It's a construction worker, but half a head smaller than Jake is now and with a black pony tail.

"Sorry, I was..." Jake answers, trying not to show too much confusion about the new baritone voice with a slight rasp to it.

"Dreaming? I can see that. You can dream on your own time, Marcel. Get back to work!"

The other man, who Jake assumes is this body's boss points at a pile of heavy concrete sacks on a truck. Several more men are currently unloading them, so at least it's clear to Jake what he has to do.

As he picks up a sack and puts it on his shoulder, Jake is amazed at how strong he is. In his own body, he probably wouldn't even have been able to lift it, but this Marcel body can shoulder it like it's not heavier than a six pack of cola.

Jake tries his best not to fall out of place. As long as there are things to carry, he gladly takes the job, fearing the moment it is actually expected of him to start working on anything he doesn't know how to do, which includes everything even remotely connected to a construction site.

He is too afraid to speak much, fearing his colleagues might notice something out of the ordinary. He does notice a curious fact, though. Whenever people speak to each other, including the few sentences he has exchanged, they are not speaking English! Jake doesn't have the slightest idea which language it is, and when he concentrates on it, he would not be able to speak it, but as long as he doesn't think about it, he understands and speaks it just fine. However, trying to speak English is exactly the opposite. He can easily form sentences when he focuses on it. Just trying to say something in English casually, however, produces a horrible mess of heavily accented language, like someone with only the most basic proficiency would produce.

Regardless of the language however, whenever Jake tries to quietly call Skyler, his friend turned cock doesn't respond. Jake doesn't know if he simply can't hear him below the multiple layers of cloth (as he only dares to whisper), is resting again or if there is something wrong.

As the time goes on and the sun slowly climbs, the temperature on the site rises even higher. All of the men, Jake included, start to sweat heavily, and soon the air is filled with a mix of dust, concrete and the musk of unwashed men.

Just as his worries are about to get the better of him, Jake hears a voice in his head, the voice of Skyler.

"Jake? What happened?"

Thank God, Skyler is okay!

"Skyler! I was getting worried!"

"What did you say, Marcel?" another one of the workers looks up.

"Eh nothing. Just thinking loudly."

"Ha, don't strain your brain trying to think!" the other man laughs and gets back to his work.

Jake quickly looks around and sees a good opportunity to speak to his friend. He quickly makes his way to the grimy blue Porta potty and gets inside, ignoring the stench as well as he can.

Once inside he unzips his pants and takes Skyler out of his jock strap, now daring to speak to him in a hushed tone.

"I was getting worried dude! You were out for a few hours!"

"Yes, I feel like shit, too. I don't know if I remember all of our encounter with the demon, it was... Hey, what are you doing?"

Skyler feels himself being handled by Jake's big hands while he talks, being pointed down into the disgusting toilet.

"What do you mean? I'm taking a piss."

With that, Jake lets go, pumping his urine through Skyler's shaft body.

"Listen, I don't have much time, I need to get back to work soon if I don't want the other guys to become suspicious." Jake explains while his pee splashes into the plastic tank.

Skyler can't believe it. Jake just uses him like he is a real dick, no trace of the careful handling or asking of the beginning. Jake has decided that he wants to pee and just does so, no matter what Skyler thinks about it. It doesn't even seem to cross his mind that this is something to consider!

Skyler really wants to complain, really wants to find this outrageous, but... the truth is that there is a growing part of him that finds it ridiculous to complain. He is Jake's penis for the time being and those are used for peeing. Jake can't very well ask his dick every time he wants to empty his bladder, right? In that regard, perhaps it's best just to be a good dick and let Jake handle it, Skyler rationalizes.

So, he doesn't mention it and instead answers: "The other guys?"

"Yeah, apparently I'm a construction worker named Marcel now, and I'm on site with colleagues. It would be weird if I spoke to you out there. Which reminds me: Can you identify what language everyone is speaking?"

"I think it's Polish, judging from what the other guy said. I couldn't understand him, but I can understand you just fine, and I think you're speaking the same language. Weird!" Skyler replies.

"Yes, and I don't know a word in Polish, yet I can speak it fine as long as I don't think about it. Perhaps it comes with the body." Jake shakes off the last drops of piss and shoves Skyler back into the jock strap.

"Listen, we can talk after I'm off work. Until then, I can't answer at least." Jake explains.

"Okay, let's talk then! I'll try to be quiet as well in order not to confuse you too much."

Skyler can hear Jake zipping up and exit the Porta potty. Inside the confines of his jock strap, that eagerly absorbs the last traces of piss on Skyler's tip, it's hot and damp.

Jake moves around a lot, so Skyler's world is in constant motion. The balls beneath him shift and move along with the legs left and right, even though those are separated from him by the jock's fabric. There is not much space, on the contrary. Skyler's ample length is pressed against the balls underneath, probably forming a beautiful firm and large package if seen from the outside.

Because of the temperature and the work, Jake sweats a lot, even down here. The humidity quickly increases to the point that the surrounding fabric is more of a damp cloth around him, covering Skyler in slick sweat from tip to base.

This is a new experience for him, at least in this intensity. He doesn't mind it, though. This gives him the opportunity to get used to the smell and taste of this new body. It's different from Jake's original body and the one before this, but it's good, nevertheless. It's not like Skyler would have much options if he doesn't like it, but as of now, every body odor or -taste was agreeable to him. Perhaps it's a thing that comes with being a dick, he muses.

Skyler hangs around in the hot damp darkness for a while, until something changes. At first, he thinks that Jake has taken him out again, since he can see the bright sunlight again, but it's subtly different. Right, he has the perspective of a full human being again! Skyler hardly has time to think about that, though because of what he sees. In front of him, there is another construction worker. He has taken his shirt off because of the heat and uses it to wipe away sweat from his face. The short brown hair and beard look really good on him and...

No, why is the view turning away from the dude? Skyler wants to look at him some more!

Suddenly, the field of view turns back, so Skyler can see more. There is sweat running down the shaved muscular chest of the worker. Skyler (and the focus of the view) follows a drop of liquid that is running down between the slabs of pecs, over the toned stomach before it reaches the seam of the man's work pants. Damn, that guy is packing. He can't decide if he wants to stare at the sculpted ass or the considerable bulge at the front, so he just focuses on the general area.

Skyler doesn't even notice his confines becoming even closer until he lifts up the damp jock and strains against the front of Jake's work pants, harder and stiffer by the second. His tip becomes even wetter as he drools precum into the strained fabric before him.

Damn, that is one hot guy. If only Jake would take him out and...

"Yo, Marcel, what are you staring at?"

The view snaps back to the other guy's face that is looking questioning.

"I uhm eh..." Skyler can hear Jake's new voice stammer and only now it dawns on him that he is seeing what Jake sees.

"You have dirt on your knee." finally comes the weak apology, and Jake quickly turns away, trying to adjust his boner, Skyler, without anyone noticing. As he turns away, the vision ends, and Skyler can once again only see the darkness of his surroundings.

"Try to keep your act together!" Jake whispers nervously. Skyler doesn't answer. It was hardly his fault that there was this ridiculously good looking guy. Perhaps it was his fault that Jake stopped to stare at him, but right now, Skyler doesn't understand the how and why. Only slowly, Skyler can feel Jake's blood rushing out of him again, until he deflates to his earlier position.

Time passes, until, finally, Jake says in a low voice: "Okay, we're finished for the day. I don't think I have ever worked so hard in my entire life."

"Great! Let's go somewhere we can talk. This Marcel guy surely has a home.", Skyler replies.

"Probably, but how do we find it? I mean it's not that I know anything except how to speak his language."

Skyler thinks for a moment before he answers. "Does he have a phone?"

Jake looks through his pockets and really finds a cell phone. It's a rather old model and there are several cracks in the display, but it's a phone. "Yep."

"Try to unlock it with your finger or face!" Skyler suggests.

Apparently, the phone is too old to support face unlock, but it has a fingerprint sensor - and really, it unlocks to Jake's right thumb. "Got it! Good idea Sky! Now let's see if that guy has saved his home location in the maps app... Yes!"

The way is twenty minutes by foot. It would probably be faster if he took another vehicle, perhaps Marcel even had a car or a bike. However, since neither Skyler nor Jake know for sure and they aren't familiar with the public transport system in a polish town, either, Jake decides to just walk.

"So, what happened with the demon guy?", Skyler begins the conversation.

"Well, he wasn't all that talkative, but what he said was really bad. He said that he was a demon lord from hell and that his name is Baelnath. And he wants to eat my soul." Jake swallows, as he remembers the frightening scene again.

"Sky, do you understand what this means? Demons, hell, souls... All that stuff really exists! Does that mean there is a God as well?"

"I don't know Jake, but let's not jump to conclusions. We don't even know if he told you the truth. But what did you know he was called again?" Skyler's voice sounds thoughtful in Jake's head.

"He said his name is Baelnath.", Jake repeats.

"Okay, this is creepy. After you used the stone, I had a weird dream. I was some other guy and there was a circle of people around me."

"You were some other guys cock?" Jake asks, confused.

"No, I was some other guy, not his cock!" Skyler is a bit irritated that Jake would think of him as another man's penis before considering him as a person by default. "Anyway, I was in some sort of cellar, and it was really dark, only a few candles were on, so I couldn't see much. But those people around me were chanting in some weird language that I couldn't understand. But one word that kept repeating was 'Baelnath'. For some reason, which made me really angry."

"Perhaps you heard the name during my encounter with the demon and just dreamed up the rest?" Jake offers.

"Possible. But it just felt so real."

"Then it could be the demon trying to get to us."

"Maybe. The thing is, besides eating our souls, Baelnath obviously wants to get hold of the sigil stone. And when you tried to use it, it felt somehow similar to his presence. I think it's fair to assume that the two are connected."

"So, you're saying that when I use the stone, I might lure the demon right to us? Kurwa! How am I supposed to get us out of this, then!" Jake exclaims, louder than he intended. Luckily, there is nobody on the street right now.

"We'll have to wait until we can figure out what to do. But you still have the stone?" Skyler replies.

"Yes. I still had it in my hand after I changed."

"Good. If things get worse, we can still do the same trick again."

"Probably, but this means getting near the demon again." Jake shakes his head. "And at some point, he will learn. Also, he has some kind of influence over me. I almost handed him the stone the last time, I don't know why I didn't. It was like I really wanted to give up then."

Skyler keeps quiet. These are troubling news, and he doesn't have a good answer for Jake. Finally, he says:

"Well, at least for the moment, it seems that just not using the stone and keeping low is our best option. Perhaps, we can find out more while you pretend to be Marcel. Perhaps we can look stuff up in the internet, now that we have a name."

"Good idea. Well, looks like we have arrived."

Before Jake stands a run-down apartment building in probably the cheapest part of town. Jake finds a set of keys in his pockets and unlocks the door. Luckily, there is only one Marcel on the door bell labels. If he assumes that this is him, then his last name is Guzek. Marcel Guzek. Could be worse, at least he will be able to write the name without some crazy accents or signs that this language seems to have. Climbing up the stairs reminds Jake of his long and exhausting day at work. Finally, he unlocks the door to a modest apartment, a very long way from his previous body's one and even his own. There are just two rooms and a small bathroom that doesn't even have a separate shower, just a bathtub with a cheap plastic shower curtain around it.

It is clear that Marcel lives alone. Besides the obvious fact that nobody is home when Jake opens the door, the rooms are untidy, and dishes are piling up in the sink. It's not filthy or messy, but Jake suspects that the apartment is not cleaned more often than once every two weeks. Given the size of the place, it probably won't even take long to do so, but right now, Jake is much too exhausted to clean up some other guy's home. Perhaps that's how Marcel usually feels, too, which would explain the state of the place.

There is a cheap double bed in the tiny bedroom, but it's clear that only one side is used regularly. Besides a small wardrobe and a washing basket, there is not much more in the room.

The other room is crammed full of all the rest. There is a kitchen corner with a microwave oven, a stove and the sink. Next to the sink stands an old refrigerator that hums audibly. There is an erotic poster of a half-dressed woman on the other wall, and a small TV with a worn down two seater couch and a small table in front of it. A cupboard holding the clean plates and cups fills the rest of space this room has to offer and acts as a separation at the same time.

"Wow, this Marcel guy really lives like a king." Jake comments.

"Take me out and let me see!" Skyler asks, and, as Jake fishes him out of the jock and lets him dangle in front of his pants, adds: "That's really... not a lot. He doesn't even have a computer."

"At least he has a phone." Jake agrees. "Okay, I'm starving. Let's see if there is anything to eat."

In the fridge, Jake finds a small stack of peperoni pizza and several cans of beer. He quickly takes one of the former and puts it in the microwave oven, waiting impatiently until it's done. After that, he grabs a can of beer from the fridge and sits down on the couch.

"I'm gonna put you back into my pants now, I don't want to drop hot pizza on you. Besides, it's more comfortable if I lean forward." Jake informs Skyler and immediately does as he said. He shifts around a bit, finally getting rid of his pants before he starts to eat his food in just his jock strap and wife beater.

Skyler can hear the TV being turned on, apparently some kind of sports game with a Polish commentor. He actually doesn't mind the short break and waits until Jake leans back on the couch, occasionally taking a sip of his beer. Since Jake doesn't start the conversation again, Skyler says: "So, where do we start our research?"

Jake sighs and responds: "I'm just too tired to think about this now, Sky. Let's just chill this evening and we can start tomorrow after work."

Skyler recons that there is really no rush. As long as they don't use the stone, they should be safe, right?

So, he just relaxes in the soft confines of his underwear home, only occasionally being readjusted by Jake's giant hand.

After some time in silence has passed, Jake suddenly addresses Skyler:

"God, Sky, you're really gay, aren't you?"

Skyler is confused but answers truthfully: "Yeah, that's what I told you. Why are you asking?"

Jake gives a short chuckle in Marcel's baritone voice.

"Cause I'm looking at some Polish porn with really hot chicks for ten minutes now and my kutas doesn't react the slightest."

Skyler is surprised by the sudden openness. Usually, they don't discuss these kind of topics much, but then again, he started it with his confession of being gay. Also, he was his dick right now, so these topics probably came naturally.

"You could try looking at men instead", Skyler suggested.

"Might as well try that..." Jake responds. Suddenly, Skyler's vision shifts again. Now he is looking at the cracked display of a phone, held by the rough hands of Marcel. On the screen, there is a polish porn site, with two men on it who are kissing and slowly undress.

" Yeah... That's more exciting for you, isn't it?" Jake states as Skyler feels himself plumb up somewhat and be readjusted by Jake. Although Skyler can't read the description of the page, another thumbnail grabs his interest, of a juicy male ass. Without exchanging a word, Jake taps the thumbnail, and another video starts playing.

A rush of joy goes through Skyler, as he begins to tent the jock strap. He can feel Jake grabbing his stiffening form beneath the fabric and stimulate him further with his fingers.

It feels weird at first, like having sex with his best friend. On the other hand, he wanted to get into Jake's pants for so long now and now he even started the encounter, regardless of the strange situation.

Skyler is far too horny to think about it further. He soaks up the porn vid until he sees another thumbnail, this time a muscular guy with a huge cock.

Automatically, Skyler taps on it, or was it, Jake? Marcel's hand now starts to jerk his fully erect cock in earnest, every pump sending waves of pleasure down Skyler's shaft and into Jake's system. Skyler moans from the pleasure, Marcel's baritone voice turning him on even more. Jake only stops his jerking shortly to pull up his wife beater and put it behind his head, before Skyler resumes thrusting into Marcel's rough hand.

God, he *needs* this. Why didn't he jerk off sooner? The previous body has been hot too, just imagining cumming onto the brown skin with black hair almost sends him over the edge. But this body here... Oh boy. It is like a walking wet dream. He can't believe that he is actually using someone else's hand to jerk his cock that is a person of his own!

With a cry, Skyler/Jake comes all over himself, splattering the muscled torso with white cum in multiple spurts before relaxing, spent from the experience.

Both Jake and Skyler drift off into a slumber, while Skyler shrinks flaccid again and their cum begins to dry.

Jake has the wildest dreams, from red demons and him running away, to hot men on the construction site. He wakes up half way in the morning by Skyler stiffening up again, perhaps from his dream or perhaps just without any more reason than a morning wood.

"Not yet, dick, just five more minutes..." he says, sleepily.

"Skyler" comes the answer, sharper than expected.

"Huh?" Jake asks, still not entirely awake.

"My name is still Skyler, or Sky, even though I am your dick right now."

"Yeah, that's what I said, what are you going on about", Jake answers confused.

Before Skyler can answer however, the phone alarm goes off.

"Kurwa! I think this means I need to get to work!"

Jake rushes to the bathroom and quickly takes a shower in the bathtub, getting rid of the worst dried up cum in the process. He finds another jock strap and wife beater (apparently, Marcel has plenty of those) and throws them on, along with the pair of work pants from yesterday.

As he retrieves them, Jake catches a look of the poster on the wall. He could have sworn it was an erotic poster of a hot woman yesterday, but this one clearly showed a man in a tight thong. Weird. He should discuss this with Skyler later.

Before he leaves the apartment, he says: "Sorry, Sky. Let's start our research this evening."

"Okay", Skyler answers - it's not like he has much of a choice in this matter.

As Jake hurries along to the construction site, he notices that some of the people he meets give him weird glances. Perhaps it's just because he is jogging the way, or perhaps there is a spot on his clothing he didn't notice, but Jake feels their gazes following him, as he jogs along the road.

Apparently, he has arrived at the site just in time, among the last of the workers to arrive. As he starts to unload another truck of material, though, the hot guy he stared at yesterday addresses him.

"Yo, Marcel! We're still good for this afternoon?"

Shit. He doesn't even know this guy. Had they planned something? It is not helping that Skyler is twitching in his pants again, as Jake looks at the other guy.

Apparently, his confusion is all too visible on his face, since the other man laughs.

"Man, Marcel, you need to start writing down stuff! We wanted to go to the pool Friday after work. And it's Friday."

"Shit, yeah, man, I remember now, but I didn't bring my swim trunks..." Jake tried to squirm out, but that only earned him a rough poke to the shoulder from the other man.

"Ha! I knew you'd forget. Luckily, old Piotr here got you covered and brought one extra. So, no more excuses my friend!"

Jake fakes a smile and nods. "Great! I guess I'll see you after work then."

Meeting this guy, who is apparently entirely Skyler's type has a high potential of becoming a very embarrassing experience, so the first chance he gets, Jake flees to the Porta potty and fishes out Skyler to do his business again. To the background of his pee splashing, he says:

"So, listen, Sky. You remember the guy you got a boner to yesterday?"

"Yeah, you too were speaking. What did he say?"

"It seems we have an appointment today after work to go swimming together. Can you do that? I mean without getting hard and all railed up."

It takes a while for Skyler to answer. Sometimes, Jake would be really interested in what his dick is thinking.

"Yes, I think I can try. Just focus on swimming, don't ogle his package too much, okay?"

"Sure. Why would I do that? I'm straight, remember?" Jake answers, even though he jerked off to gay porn yesterday. The poster in Marcel's flat comes to mind - perhaps he shouldn't be too sure about anything 'he is' in these strange times.

Skyler doesn't answer, not even with a snarky remark - perhaps he doesn't want to insult Jake. Jake shakes him off and puts him back into his underwear, before continuing to work.

During the day, Jake has the same uneasy feeling as before. His coworkers give him weird glances from time to time, that Jake can't really interpret well.

End of work comes quickly, as it is Friday and there seems to be the unwritten law that construction workers only work until noon on Fridays. Jake can't complain, since that might give him the chance to actually do some research this evening, as he had promised. At least if he manages to cut the swim session short.

As expected, Piotr expects him after work and throws a rolled up towel at him.

"I want those back, washed, you hear me?" he says laughing. Jake nods and gets into the car with the other man. Okay, how would Marcel behave? Jake realizes he knows exactly nothing about the body he is in.

"So, what's new? Met anyone interesting?"

Jake guesses he means romantically. Does Piotr know Marcel is gay? Is Marcel even gay? The whole poster situation is very confusing. Jake just hopes he doesn't have to go into more detail as he answers a vague: "Nah, no one. Too much work." That always works.

Piotr just nods. Jake manages to get through the car drive by giving non committed answers and asking superficial questions. Finally, they arrive at the public pool and get changed. Wearing only the borrowed swim trunks, Jake meets Piotr again under the shower. As instructed, he tries to look strictly at Piotr's face, not his chiseled chest, abs or... anything below that.

As the two men are showering away the dust and dirt of the work site, however, Piotr comments: "You got a new tattoo? Looks cool!"

Tattoo? Right, the heart shaped thing that appeared. Seems like this body has it, too. "Yes, it's new" Jake says, not even lying. "Do you like it?"

"I do! I told you, you can't run", says the other man, laughing.

"What did you say?" Jake asks, confused, while at the same time, Skyler is screaming inside his head: "Jake, watch out!"

"I said: I told you, you can't run." During the sentence, Piotr's voice drops an octave and at the end, Jake has the feeling of hot nails puncturing his brain. Horrified, he turns around, only to see Piotr changing rapidly. His skin turns crimson, and horns break their way through his skull. The mist of the showers suddenly becomes black.

Jake is paralyzed. What should he do?

"The stone, where is the stone?"

Before Piotr can finish changing into the horrifying demonic form of Baelnath, Jake begins to run. He almost slips on the wet tiles, but somehow manages to scramble back to his feet. He just needs to get back to his pants. The sigil stone is in his right pocket, he knows that for sure.

This time, the demon doesn't seem to have the decadence to walk but runs after him before he is even finished changing. It might be the missing control of Marcel's body or the influence of the demon, but the lead Jake has is shortening in an alarming rate. Finally. The locker. Jake fumbles with the key, while the demon closes in. Finally, the door opens. There are the pants. Jake wants to grab into the right pocket, he really does - but his hand doesn't do what it's told. Instead, he reaches into the left pocket... only to find the stone in it, already humming with power.

Jake's heart skips a beat. He had been wrong. If he had tried the right pocket, he might not have been able to get the stone in time. He doesn't know why he took the left one, but there was no time to think about it now. Just as the demon's claws grabbed his shoulder, the stone's magic unraveled the world around him.

I think that is my longest story episode yet! If you want to read the story from the beginning, just click here. If you just want to re-read the last episode, it can be found here. The next episode waits for you here.

[theeironprice]

Size difference // body differences // head cannon Thramsay thoughts💭↓

This is geared toward book Thramsay, post Reek Theon.

I just decided to say fuck it and post this but I’ll be honest I am too lazy to check it for grammar and I might get too nervous to post it if I wait so—whoops I’ll edit out mistakes at some point I’m sure

♡ I’ll start with their hands! Pre Reek Theon had elegant, well manicured nails. His fingers are long, but his hands are overall on the smaller side.

Ramsay mutilating Reek’s hands with his own much larger ones is.. yes, gimme. They’re big enough to wrap around the width of Reek’s waist with ease. They engulf the smaller pair completely; the surface area of them are all the better to strike Reek with.

Ramsay’s hands are strong and capable; while Reek’s hands have become unfunctional due to the damage. Both of their fingers twitch often; Ramsay’s with rage and urge and desire and Reek’s with a nervousness and nerve damage. They both have callouses along their fingers and palms—though Ramsay’s are from holding Blood’s reins and Reek’s are born from manual labor and chores.

♡Leading up to their arms~ Reek’s wrists are so small and the bone of it is so pronounced that it’s almost sharp—another thing Ramsay can wrap a hand around with ease; his wrists on the other hand are thick things that give way to forearms and biceps to match.

Ramsay’s arms are thick things dusted with hair that’s concentrated on his forearms. His skin is pink with rosacea around his upper arms—they’re muscled but there’s a layer of squish over the hard base.

He’s always throwing Reek around!!

Reek’s arms are weak and completely lacking any meaningful amount of both muscle and fat—they’re made of bone, skin and covered in a variety of scars.

♡Their legs are made the same way—Ramsay’s thighs are thick, with plenty of space for his pet to sit on. Reek’s knees are knobby and prone to trembling. Ramsay has little stretch marks on his inner thighs while Reek’s inner thighs are constantly littered with bruises and bite marks

When Ramsay feels generous he lets Reek sleep curled up at the feet of his bed. When Ramsay's feeling exceedingly generous he lets Reek sleep under the covers with him.

Reek knows his favorite position should be whatever pleased his lord but in truthfulness it's when Ramsay is laying flat on his back with Reek tucked into one side.

The first time Ramsay had yanked him close enough so that his thin leg lay over him, his crotch bumping into solid, warm feeling thing.

He likes the feeling of something between his thighs; it's a sorry replacement for his own appendage but his damaged nerves and mutilated flesh feel something

♡Now tummy time 😳🥺 Reek’s abdomen has turned concave—hollowed out by years of starvation. His ribs are visible enough for counting and he seems more waifish by the day.

Ramsay’s penchant for feasting is evident in the fleshiness around his waist. His torso is big and bulky compared to his Reek’s maiden thin waist.

There’s a curve to Ramsay’s hips and the thought of a little crease leading to his back makes me bite at the air and 😫💞 Reek’s hips and sides have no such curve; the bone of his hips are prominent and there’s a bit of loose skin to his lower abdomen

♡Under Ramsay’s ownership Reek’s face has grown gaunt; his slender features have become even more so—his cheeks hollowed. More often than not he’s scruffy and his under-eyes have become sunken.

There’s a softness to Ramsay’s jawline; his cheeks are round and ruddy.

♡Overall Ramsay is just larger than Reek in every way; maybe Theon’s cock had been longer but Reek has no such appendage. He has a few inches on his pet height wise, but it seems even greater with how Reek cowers and hunches.

Ramsay loves how small and insignificant his Reek feels wrapped up in his arms 💞

[thebibutterflyao3]

OK IDK IF YOU TAKE FIC PROMPTS BUT I LOVE UR WORK N THIS WON’T LEAVD MY HEAD BUT FEEL FREE TO IGNORE

let’s set the scene

a fic where james is at some form of school whether college or uni or whatever and he’s a football jock and super hot so everyone asks him out but he always rejects them BUTTT he wears a necklace with an R on it and everyone wonders who is that and THEN THE NEXT YEAR reg joins and ppl assume they’re dating because of how they act but theyre so oblivious and cute they think they’re just best friends but they’re in love

I do take prompts if they interest me! This is adorable and I definitely wanted to give it a go, but I have no chill. I said to myself, “you can write a cute one-shot with a few scenes, no problem!” I’m at 15k words in two days. 🤦🏻‍♀️

Here’s a peek:

——Unedited Opening Scene——

It had to be today. Of all days for his lucky necklace to break, it had to be today. James cursed under his breath as he hurried down the pavement, cradling the pieces of the gold chain carefully in his hand. He’d panicked when he felt the chain fall from its proper place at the hollow of his throat a minute earlier, and now the small pendant glared at him accusingly as if the intense boy who’d given it to him knew that it wasn’t where it belonged.

He rubbed his thumb over the gold script “R” and smiled fondly at the memory of Regulus’s eager grin when he insisted James open the gift from him first on Christmas morning, several years ago now. James was thrilled to find the charm nestled in a small blue satin gift box, and even happier to see the matching “J” that Regulus bought for himself. They had grown close in the previous year after the brothers moved in with him and his parents and this was a sign that their friendship was meant to last.

James also remembered how Regulus’s cheeks burned with embarrassment when he saw that his brother bought a similar set for him and his boyfriend the following year. Sirius had dismissed his concern and declared it was an equally appropriate gift for his “adopted brother,” but Regulus looked even more mortified. The term made James wince at the time. He never wanted to interject himself in Regulus and Sirius’s family bond, and remained content to be friends.

And now I’ve broken it, on the very first day he arrives at uni. Well done, you putz.

He searched the crowd gathered around the Square for a familiar dark head of wavy hair and anxious grey eyes. Regulus wasn’t tall enough to stand out among the throng of new students, but James’s gaze was drawn directly to him within seconds. Hurriedly, he waded through the crowd to reach him. When their eyes met, Regulus gasped and shoved his way past the handful of students standing between them.

“Jamie!” Regulus called out, leaping at James with his arms outstretched.

James rushed forward and caught him in a tight hug. “Hey Reg! You made it!”

“There’s so many people here,” Regulus whispered in his ear. “It’s a lot to take in.”

He nodded, then eased his hold a bit so that he could see his face. Regulus’s lips were bitten raw and his cheeks were pink with nervous excitement, but otherwise he looked exactly as James remembered. Their Facetime calls were the highlight of his week, every week, and his sole source of sanity when the stress of his summer sessions wore him thin.

“What dorm are you in? Did you request Gryffindor?” James asked, lowering his feet to the ground.

“I did, but they said it was full.” Regulus frowned as he pulled away. “Is Slytherin close?”

“Right across the street!”

James’s smile faltered when Regulus’s gaze fell to his chest. He held out his hand and quickly explained what happened with the clasp. Relief washed over Regulus’s sharp features as he carefully pieced the remaining tiny links back together. The little furrow between his brows when he was lost in concentration amused James and he was tempted to smooth it away with his thumb.

“There,” Regulus pronounced, holding up the necklace triumphantly. “Turn around and I’ll put it on.”

James swivelled on his heel and stooped a bit so that Regulus could reach his neck. “Thanks. I had a bit of a panic when it broke.”

“May be a tad tight now,” Regulus said. He deftly clasped the chain without issue, despite the fact that James hadn’t opened the clasp in years. When he turned around again, Regulus smiled and patted the charm approvingly as he reached for his own, untucking the silver “J” to rub it between his thumb and finger.

——Unedited Middle Scene——

James steadied himself with a hand on Sirius’s shoulder as the pain began to recede. “No one hurt me, alright? I crashed into the lockers during half-time trying to get my phone. I had to check on Regulus and–”

“Alright, enough,” Peter interrupted. He marched up to James and prodded his chest with one finger. “What’s it going to take, James? How much more proof do you need?”

James glared at Peter. “Leave it. There’s no reason to stir shite up when things are perfectly fine as they are.”

Peter glared right back, his hands propped on his hips like a disappointed mum. “James Fleamont Potter, have your bollocks fallen off? What happened to your self-respect? Has he scrambled your brain that much?”

“Who? What the hell are we talking about?” Sirius shook Peter’s shoulder roughly.

“Regulus! James is in love with Regulus!” Peter shouted.

A startled gasp whipped James’s head up with a loud crack. Shite. Regulus.

“No! Regulus, it’s not true,” James said, rushing forward. He made it a handful of steps before coming to a halt. “Why didn’t you come to the game?”

Regulus backed up slowly, unprepared for the rush of emotions that rolled through him at the sight of James. Particularly, a badly bruised and upset James. The same bloke that he’d spent the last hour and a half forcing himself to consider his feelings about, only to hear James assure him that he didn’t have any for Regulus in return.

Remus was right. I am pathetic. How did I miss it?

He swallowed past a lump in his throat and shook his head. “I had a project…the library…”

“You didn’t say anything about a project.”

“No, I didn’t,” he admitted. Regulus’s hands clenched into fists at his side. “It doesn’t matter anyway though, does it?”

James’s face contorted through a number of expressions before settling on frustration. “Of course it matters! I lost the game because I was too busy worrying about you! What the fuck, Reg? Why didn’t you come to the game like you said you would? I was looking everywhere for you. I couldn’t concentrate on the plays and–”

“So, it’s my fault you lost your game?” Regulus checked.

“Yes! Wait, no…I mean.” James huffed and stomped forward, grabbing the front of Regulus’s jumper. “Listen, Regulus, I need to hear you say it. Why didn’t you come to the game?”

Regulus tipped his head back and closed his eyes. This was not going the way he’d expected it to, which in some ways was a good thing. He wasn’t sure he could handle both of them being clingy saps right now. One of them needed to keep a clear head.

[sebsallowapologist]

Little Bird || Part I

This was up on AO3 for a bit- but I’ve done more writing and I’m going to be posting more chapters, so I thought I’d edit it to be more reader / MC instead of an OC (I feel like Tumblr likes that more but lmk!) Little outtakes from the trio’s last year at Hogwarts <3 

Sebastian Sallow x F! Reader • 7th Year • Friends to Lovers

warnings: none for now- I’ll update if future chapters get a little 🌶 First one is a little short but they get longer. 

Over the summer before her seventh year MC has really come into her own. Figured out how to do her hair, dress to accentuate her favorite features, and finally looks like a full grown woman, instead of child. It seems like everyone has noticed - everyone except her crush best friend Sebastian Sallow.

She tries to deal with her deepening feelings, loosing control of her ancient magic and feeling like she’s not ready to leave Hogwarts.

________________________________

I hadn’t gotten farther than throwing my trunk down next to my bed before I turned on my heel and ran out of the Ravenclaw dormitories.

I come around the corner, bolting for the stairs that will lead me out of the Astronomy tower when I smack head first into Everett, who reaches his arms out to grip my shoulders and steady me before I hit the floor from the force.

“Woah there now.” He laughs, giving me a once over while keeping his hands on my shoulders. “In a rush already? It’s barely the first day of the term.”

I tuck my hair behind my ear and back up a few steps as I answer him, his hands falling off my shoulders as I walk away, backwards toward my escape. “Yeah, Yep. Got plans.”

“What about later? We can catch up from summer over a butterbeer? Three broomsticks, yeah?”

“Uh yeah I’m sure I’ll see you there.” I laugh a little awkwardly, wincing as I turn around. I was willing to say anything to get out of the common room, but I wish I hadn’t left the door open for the butter beer. Truth be told I’ve never really liked Everett. Not after I saw him bully another student in my first year here. Giving him a mean nickname and refusing to let it drop. I’ve done some things I’m not proud of, but teasing people for something they can’t control is just cruel. I’d always had the feeling he didn’t particularly like me either- or really remember I existed.

“Well I was thinking we could make a specific time, and meet there.”

crap.

I take a few more steps back and plaster on a polite smile.

“I’ll talk to you later!” I wave as I break back into my run, stepping down the stairs I knew all too well, using the bannister to swing my body around the corners and keep my speed up. I burst through the door and only have to take a few steps before I come to a screeching halt. Because I see him. 

Him. 

Sebastian is leaning against the wall, always the picture of nonchalance. He’s not yet wearing his shapeless robes, a thin sweater clinging to the muscles that has gotten even more pronounced over the summer. For Merlin’s sake how did that happen? 

Ominis stands straight next to his slouched friend, I feel like he had a few more inches on him now too.

It was so good to see them together as friends again, hanging out without me orchestrating it. It had taken me all of year six, but finally they were on good terms, and I was quite looking forward to no longer playing referee.

He catches me staring- and when we lock eyes a brilliant smile spreads across Sebastian’s face, freckles crinkling around his eyes. I break back into my run, faster than ever and he pushes himself off the wall to catch me in a hug, spinning me around twice in the air before setting my feet back down on the stone floor. “Hi little bird.” he smiles and all I can do is smile back up at him. “Did you have a good trip in? Hogwarts Express gave you no trouble, right darling?” I nodded.

He of course didn’t have to ask how my summer was, there wasn’t a week where we didnt send owls back and forth. “Don’t hog her.” Ominis smiles, opening his arms for a hug.

I wrap my arms around him and bounce on my toes, trying my very best to contain my excitement. “I missed you both so much, life was terribly boring without you.”

“Your life? Terribly boring? I know you get up to trouble whenever you can, don’t lie.” Ominis laughed and I pat his cheek. “Are we going for food? Hogsmeade? What are we doing?” I ask.

“Well I vote we get obviously drunk at the three broomsticks, wanter around hogsmeade and come back to generally terrorize year ones, it’s our job since we’re year seven now.” Sebastian smirks, cracking his knuckles for his ever present dramatic effect.

I smack his chest, fighting the urge to not run my hand over the soft sweater. “Stop it’s their first year they’re probably already scared out of their wits. Besides, we have the feast in a few hours.”

“Ominis already made one cry.”

“Listen! He stepped in my way, we almost took a tumble down the stairs-”

Ominis recounts his story as we start walking down the hallway. Sebastian walks next to me, and his arm rests over my shoulders. “Ah- I missed you little bird.” He mumbles in my ear as Ominis tells his story.

“I missed you too.” I whisper and he kisses the top of my head.

[everyones-fangirl]

Delectable Little Pet

Warnings: 18+ This will be about after ascension Astarion so expect some extreme dark romance and future triggers.

Word Count: 5,806

Chapter 11

Astarion

It took days before she woke up, and with every agonizing second that passed, I doubted she ever would. But then, she did. Relief surged through me, yet it was quickly tempered by guilt and dread. I had locked her in a room, secluded from the world, with a special looking glass installed so I could keep an eye on her without having to face her directly. The truth was, I couldn’t bring myself to confront her. To confront what I had done to her. In the silent hours of the night, as I watched her through the looking glass, the weight of my actions bore down on me. Was I any better than Cazador? The thought gnawed at my mind, a relentless parasite. I shook my head, refusing to let that comparison take root. She had been dying, and it had been my fault. If anything, she should be thanking me.

But deep down, I knew I was wrong.

Her transformation was not something I could take pride in. It was a desperate act borne out of fear and love, a twisted manifestation of my inability to let her go. I watched as she lay on the bed, her body still and fragile, the remnants of her humanity clinging to her like a shroud. She was pale, even paler than before, her skin almost translucent, almost as if she was made of delicate porcelain. Dark circles framed her eyes, stark against her pallid complexion, and her once vibrant hair now seemed dull and lifeless, lacking the lustrous sheen it once had. The only thing that wasn’t dull were her eyes. They were a brighter emerald green than before and seemed to glow from within, a vibrant contrast to her otherwise lifeless appearance. They held a depth and intensity that was unnerving, piercing through the gloom of the room with an almost supernatural light. It was as if her very soul was burning behind those eyes, defying the transformation that had robbed her of so much. I didn’t understand how her eyes hadn’t turned red like what happens to all spawns; it was an anomaly that worried me deeply. Her lips, once full and rosy, were now a faint shade of pink, almost blending into her skin. They were slightly parted, revealing the faintest hint of her new fangs, sharp and deadly, yet somehow they seemed out of place on her delicate features. Her hands lay limply at her sides, the veins beneath her skin faintly visible, giving her an ethereal, almost ghostly appearance.

Despite my attempts to nourish her, she refused to eat, rejecting every offering of blood I sent her way. Her refusal to feed was slowly killing her, and it broke my heart to see her wasting away, becoming more fragile with each passing day. Her body, though now immortal, was still subject to the agonies of starvation, and I could see the toll it was taking on her. Her once elegant figure had grown gaunt, her collarbones and ribs more pronounced, giving her a skeletal appearance that was a painful reminder of her suffering. She wore a simple white gown, now stained and rumpled, hanging loosely on her diminished frame. It seemed to symbolize the purity that had been tainted by the darkness of her transformation. As she lay there, her chest rising and falling with shallow breaths, I could see the faint, almost imperceptible movements of her fingers, as if she were clutching at some invisible thread of hope. It was a heartbreaking sight, one that made me question everything I had done, everything I was. In her eyes, I saw both a haunting accusation and a plea for release, a duality that tore at my very being.

Watching her in this state, I was consumed by guilt and self-loathing. I had turned her into this creature, robbed her of her humanity, and now she was paying the price for my selfishness. Each moment I spent observing her through the looking glass was a torment, a reminder of my failure. But I couldn’t bring myself to face her directly, to see the pain and betrayal in her eyes up close. I was both her savior and her tormentor, a monster who had acted out of love but ended up causing only pain. The sight of her, so frail and yet so fiercely alive in her defiance, was a constant reminder of the depths to which I had fallen. And as I stood there, watching her, I knew that the road to redemption, if it even existed, would be long and arduous.

The room I had confined her to was sparsely furnished, a stark contrast to the opulence I was accustomed to. The need for secrecy dictated the austerity of her surroundings. I couldn’t risk people knowing that I cared more for her—couldn’t risk anyone discovering how much she meant to me. So, I gave her the title of my whore, a cruel misdirection meant to keep her close without drawing too much suspicion. The bed she lay on was simple, a far cry from the luxurious silks and plush mattresses that adorned my own quarters. Its frame was made of rough-hewn wood, and it creaked under the slightest movement. The plain linens draped over it were thin and coarse, doing little to provide comfort. A single, threadbare blanket lay over her, inadequate against the chill that pervaded the room.

Beside the bed stood a small, rickety table, its surface scarred and stained from years of use. On it rested a basin of water, the liquid still and clear, reflecting the dim light of the room. A few cloths, worn and frayed at the edges, were folded neatly beside the basin, ready for the next attempt to cleanse her wounds. The window nearby was narrow and barred, allowing only a sliver of moonlight to seep through, casting long, eerie shadows across the floor. The only source of illumination came from a single candle perched on a shelf on the far wall. Its flame flickered weakly, sending shadows dancing across the stone walls. The light was feeble, barely enough to pierce the oppressive darkness that seemed to cling to every corner. It was a room designed to suppress, to strip away hope and warmth. The air was heavy with the scent of fear and uncertainty, a tangible reminder of the dire circumstances that had brought us to this point. The smell of dried blood mingled with the musty odor of damp stone and old wood, creating an atmosphere that was both suffocating and cold. Every breath I took was a reminder of the desperation that had led me to this point, the lengths I was willing to go to keep her by my side.

The walls were bare, save for a few cracks that ran through the stone, testament to the age and neglect of the building. No tapestries or paintings adorned them, nothing to break the monotony or provide a distraction from the bleakness of the room. It was a place of confinement, designed to contain and control rather than to comfort or console. The room was devoid of any personal touches, any signs of the person she once was. It was as if her very identity had been stripped away by, leaving only the shell of who she had been. It was a cruel irony, that in my attempt to save her, I had reduced her to this. And as I stood there, looking at her frail form, I couldn’t help but wonder if I had done more harm than good. Every time I checked the looking glass, I felt a pang of regret. Her eyes, when they opened, were vacant, a reflection of the inner turmoil she must have been experiencing. She was trapped in a nightmare, one that I had thrust her into. And yet, I couldn’t bring myself to step through that door, to face the reality of what I had done. I was a coward, hiding behind the safety of distance, unable to confront the consequences of my actions. I told myself that it was for her own good, that seeing me would only cause her more pain, but deep down, I knew it was a lie. I was terrified—terrified of the look in her eyes, the accusation I would see there, the betrayal. As the days turned into nights and back again, the world outside her small, confining room moved on, oblivious to the silent torment within. I continued my duties, playing my part in the council, all the while haunted by the image of Cassara's vacant eyes. My mind was in constant turmoil, torn between my desire to protect her and the reality of the darkness I had condemned her to.

I knew I couldn’t avoid her forever. Each passing hour brought me closer to the inevitable confrontation, the moment when I would have to face her and the truth of what I had done. The thought of seeing the betrayal in her eyes was almost too much to bear, but I owed her that much. I owed her the truth, no matter how painful it might be. I spent countless hours in my chambers, rehearsing what I would say, how I would explain myself. But no words seemed adequate, no apology sufficient to bridge the chasm I had created between us. The memories of our time together, the moments of closeness and trust, played over and over in my mind, each one a cruel reminder of what I had shattered. Finally, the moment came when I could delay no longer. The anticipation was a knot in my stomach, a weight on my chest that made it hard to breathe. With a deep breath, I steeled myself and stepped toward the door, my heart pounding in my chest. The world seemed to hold its breath as I reached for the handle, the cool metal a stark contrast to the warmth of my trembling hand.

As I pushed the door open, the dim light from the single candle cast long shadows across the room, illuminating Cassara's still form on the bed. She looked so fragile, so small, and my heart ached with a mixture of love and regret. She stirred at the sound, her eyes slowly opening to meet mine, and in that moment, I saw everything—the pain, the confusion, the betrayal. I took a hesitant step forward, my voice barely above a whisper. "Cassara," I said, my throat tight with emotion. "I'm so sorry. I never meant for this to happen."

Her eyes, those bright emerald eyes that now seemed to glow from within, locked onto mine. There was no accusation in them, only a deep, weary sadness that cut through me like a knife. The silence stretched between us, heavy and oppressive, as I struggled to find the words that could possibly make amends.

"I did this to save you," I continued, my voice trembling. "I couldn't bear the thought of losing you. But I see now that I was selfish. I took away your choice, your freedom, and for that, I am truly sorry." The room seemed to close in around us, the flickering candlelight casting eerie shadows on the walls. The air was thick with tension, the weight of our shared history bearing down on us. The silence was not what I expected and it made me feel even worse. I wanted her to scream, to cry, to hit me—to do anything but sit there in that haunting, vacant stillness. Her eyes, once so full of life, now looked right past me as if I were nothing but a ghost. It was as if she had already resigned herself to this new, twisted reality, and that resignation cut deeper than any words or blows could.

"Cassara," I said softly, taking a step closer. "Please, say something. Anything." My voice cracked, desperation seeping through the cracks of my composed facade.

She finally moved, but it wasn't the reaction I had braced myself for. Instead, she turned her head slowly, her eyes drifting lazily to meet mine. There was a hollow emptiness in her gaze, a void where there used to be fire and defiance. It was as though the vibrant spirit that had once shone so brightly within her was now just a dim, flickering ember.

"I don't know what you want me to say, Astarion," she whispered, her voice barely audible. "You took everything from me. My life, my freedom, my humanity. What's left to say?" Each word was like a dagger to my heart, a brutal reminder of the depth of my betrayal. I had expected anger, but this profound sense of loss, this devastating emptiness, was something I hadn't prepared for. The guilt was suffocating, wrapping around me like a vise.

"I never wanted to hurt you," I said, my voice breaking. "I thought I was saving you, but I see now that I was only saving myself from the pain of losing you. I was selfish and I..." I trailed off, unable to find the right words to convey the depth of my regret. Cassara remained silent, her expression unreadable. I longed to reach out to her, to offer some form of comfort, but I knew that my touch would be unwelcome. The barrier between us was more than just physical; it was a chasm carved by my own hands, a rift that seemed insurmountable.

As the silence stretched on, I felt a crushing weight settle over me. The reality of what I had done, the irrevocable damage I had caused, was inescapable. I had condemned her to a life of darkness, all because I couldn't bear to let her go. "I'll find a way to make this right," I promised, though the words felt hollow even as I spoke them. "I'll do whatever it takes to help you adjust, to give you some semblance of a life."

Her eyes flickered with a brief, bitter amusement. "A life?" she repeated, her tone mocking. "What kind of life can I have now, Astarion? You've turned me into a monster. There's no going back from this." The truth of her words was undeniable, and it hit me like a physical blow. I had done this to her, and there was no way to undo it. All I could do now was try to ease her suffering, to be there for her in whatever way she would allow.

"I know I can't undo what's been done," I said, my voice thick with emotion. "But please, let me try to help you. Let me try to make amends."

For a moment, her eyes softened, and I saw a flicker of the woman she used to be. But it was fleeting, gone as quickly as it had appeared, replaced once more by that cold, empty gaze. "Fine," she said at last, her voice flat. "But don't think for a second that this makes us even. You owe me more than you can ever repay."

Her words were a stark reminder of the enormity of my actions, and I knew she was right. No matter what I did, no matter how hard I tried, I could never truly make up for what I had taken from her. But I had to try. For her sake, and for mine. As I left the room, the door closing softly behind me, I felt the weight of my guilt settle even heavier on my shoulders. The next couple of hours were spent getting her moved into my room—still under the perverse guise of having her closer for easier use. I planned to keep that from her for as long as I could. As I directed my spawns to move her scant belongings, I watched her closely, trying to gauge her reaction. She moved listlessly, her eyes taking in the surroundings with a detached air.

High, vaulted ceilings arched overhead, adorned with intricate moldings and frescoes that depicted scenes of both beauty and violence. The walls were paneled in rich, dark wood that gleamed with a polished sheen, contrasting sharply with the black velvet drapes framing tall, narrow windows. These windows, high above the ground, were fitted with thick, heavy curtains that could block out any hint of daylight, preserving the sanctity of the night within. When open, they offered a view of the sprawling, darkened estate grounds, shrouded in perpetual twilight. A massive four-poster bed dominated one side of the room, draped in luxurious silks and velvets of deep crimson and black. The dark wood was intricately carved with symbols and motifs that hinted at my ancient lineage and the long history of the vampiric council. The bedding was sumptuous, a mix of soft linens and thick, heavy blankets that invited rest and respite.

Beside the bed stood matching nightstands, each holding a candelabrum with flickering candles that cast a warm, golden light. The candlelight played off the ornate, gilt-framed mirrors hanging on the walls, creating a dance of shadows that added to the room's mysterious allure. These mirrors were strategically placed to reflect light and create an illusion of even greater space. A grand fireplace took up another wall, its mantle adorned with a collection of curious artifacts and personal mementos—ancient tomes, delicate glass vials, and a few pieces of fine art. The hearth was always kept burning, the flickering flames providing warmth and a sense of living energy to the otherwise cold and dark chamber. Above the mantle hung a large portrait, its subject unknown but painted with such detail and emotion that it seemed almost lifelike.

Across from the bed, a plush seating area was arranged around a low table, perfect for intimate conversations or quiet contemplation. The chairs and settee were upholstered in dark, rich fabrics that complemented the room’s color scheme. The table often held a decanter of wine and a pair of crystal goblets, ready for an impromptu evening drink. An expansive wardrobe stood in one corner, its doors carved with intricate patterns and inlaid with precious metals. Inside, it held a collection of finely tailored clothing, ranging from elaborate ceremonial robes to more practical attire for nightly excursions. Next to the wardrobe, a full-length mirror allowed me to inspect my appearance, ensuring that I always looked the part of a distinguished and powerful vampire lord. The bathing area was partially hidden behind a set of intricately carved wooden screens, offering a measure of privacy. A large, claw-footed bathtub stood in the center, made of polished black marble and filled with steaming, scented water. Shelves nearby held an array of bath oils, soaps, and soft towels, all meticulously arranged for easy access.

Despite the room’s grandeur, there was an underlying tension, a sense of a battle fought and won, but not without scars. Every detail, every piece of furniture, and every decoration had been carefully chosen to erase the memories of the room’s previous occupant, to turn it into a space that was unequivocally mine.

As Cassara looked around, I could see her taking in the blend of luxury and personal touches. She appeared so fragile in this vast space, her transformation weighing heavily on both of us. This room, this place that had once been a symbol of my own suffering, was now a prison for her. I had to find a way to make it more than that, to make it a place where she could begin to heal. Cassara moved slowly, her fingers trailing over the polished surface of a mahogany dresser. Her eyes lingered on the ornate mirror above it, reflecting her pale, almost ghostly visage. She looked like a wraith, caught between two worlds, neither fully alive nor truly dead. "Is this where you sleep?" she asked, her voice barely more than a whisper. There was no curiosity in her tone, only a resigned acceptance.

"Yes," I replied, struggling to keep my voice steady. "It's where you'll sleep too. You'll be safer here."

"Safer," she repeated, the word hanging heavy in the air. She turned away from the mirror, her eyes meeting mine with a look of hollow resignation. "I suppose that's something."

I wanted to tell her that she would be more than just safe, that I would do everything in my power to make her feel at home, to give her some semblance of comfort. But the words felt empty, meaningless in the face of what I had done. Instead, I just nodded, feeling the weight of my guilt pressing down on me. "Rest," I said softly. "You need your strength. I'll be nearby if you need anything."

She didn't respond, simply moving to the bed and lying down with a grace that belied her weakened state. I watched her for a moment longer, then turned and left the room, the door closing softly behind me. As I stood in the hallway, I felt a pang of regret. This room, this place that had once been a symbol of my own suffering, was now a prison for her. I had to find a way to make it more than that, to make it a place where she could begin to heal. For now, all I could do was wait and hope that she would find some measure of peace in this new life I had thrust upon her.

Later that night, I returned to my chambers to find Cassara wrapped in one of the dark red plush towels from the bathing room. The sight of her bare skin glistening from the bath made my cock twitch in my trousers. She looked exhausted and malnourished, yet still achingly beautiful. The candlelight accentuated the soft curves of her body, the droplets of water catching the flickering light, making her appear ethereal. I cleared my throat to gain her attention as she wrung out the water from her hair with another towel. “I’m happy to see that you’ve cleaned up,” I said, my voice softer than I intended. I was genuinely relieved to see her up and doing something normal again, and I hoped it was a sign that she might be beginning to adjust, however reluctantly, to her new existence. She turned to face me, her eyes still carrying that vacant look, but there was a flicker of something else—perhaps curiosity, perhaps resignation. Her gaze swept over me, then returned to the towel in her hands. “Now what must I do to get you to eat something?” I asked, trying to keep my tone light, but the desperation must have seeped through.

Cassara’s expression hardened slightly, a shadow of defiance crossing her features. “I don’t want to eat,” she said flatly, her voice a stark reminder of the life I had stolen from her.

I moved closer, careful to keep my movements slow and non-threatening. “You need to regain your strength,” I insisted gently. “I can’t bear to see you suffer any more than you already have.”

She sighed and looked away, her shoulders slumping. “I don’t even know what I am anymore,” she whispered, the vulnerability in her voice cutting through me like a knife.

“You’re still you,” I replied, taking another step forward. “You’re still Cassara, and you’re still important to me. More than you can imagine.” I mumbled the last bit more to myself and doubted she even heard it.

Her eyes met mine again, and for a moment, the veil of apathy lifted, revealing the raw pain and confusion she felt. “And what does that mean, Astarion? What does being important to you entail? Being your prisoner? Your...slave?”

The words stung, but I couldn’t deny the truth in them. I had claimed her to keep her close, to protect her under the guise of possession. “No,” I said firmly. “You’re neither of those things. You’re...you’re my anchor. The one thing that keeps me grounded in all this madness.”

Her expression softened slightly, but the skepticism remained. “Then show me,” she challenged. “Show me that I’m more than just a tool for you.”

I nodded, determined to prove it to her. “I will,” I promised. “I’ll do whatever it takes to help you adjust, to help you find your place in this new world.” Cassara didn’t respond immediately, but there was a glimmer of something in her eyes—hope, perhaps, or the beginning of acceptance. It was a small victory, but I clung to it. “Come down to dinner with just me.”

“I can’t—” she choked on a small whimper. “Please don’t make me kill anything.”

My gaze softened as the first sign of emotion broke through her walls. “You don’t have to. I’ll have the blood put into a goblet for you, it’ll be just like wine. I promise.”

Her eyes widened slightly, and she swallowed hard, looking down at her hands. “I don’t know if I can... if I can drink it.”

I stepped closer, hesitating for a moment before gently placing a hand on her shoulder. “I know it’s difficult,” I said softly. “But you need to regain your strength. And I promise, I’ll be with you every step of the way. You won’t have to face this alone.”

Cassara looked up at me, her eyes searching mine for any hint of deception. Finding none, she nodded slowly. “Okay,” she whispered. “I’ll try.”

“Thank you,” I said, relief flooding through me. “Let’s take it one step at a time. Come, let’s get you dressed.” I guided her to the wardrobe where a selection of clothes had been prepared for her. Panic began to rise in me as she sifted through the garments, each one more revealing than the last. She looked over at me with an unreadable expression.

“Are you serious? This can’t be it?” She pulled out one of the more modest pieces, but even that was a stretch.

I shrugged my shoulders, my mind scrambling for a reasonable explanation. “It’s the style,” I said weakly. I cursed myself internally for not considering the implications of the clothing options I had provided, especially after telling everyone she was my whore. I took a step toward her but hesitated. “Put it on, you’ll look beautiful.”

To my surprise, she listened. I couldn’t wait until she got her strength back up so she could be the bratty little pup she was. The dress was rather large for her frail frame, and I only hoped that getting her to eat tonight would aid in getting her healthy again.

The dress was made of black lace, the intricate patterns swirling in delicate, mesmerizing designs. The sleeves extended down the length of her arms, fitting snugly before attaching to her middle fingers by delicate loops, giving the impression of elegant spiderwebs draped over her pale skin. The neckline was a daring plunge, dipping low enough to hint at the curves she had lost, yet still possessing an ethereal beauty that was uniquely hers. The skirt of the dress was scandalously cut all the way to her waist, revealing tantalizing glimpses of her legs with each step. Bands of lace and mesh connected the bodice together in a lattice of dark, delicate strands, creating a contrast against the almost translucent pallor of her skin. The intricate design did little to conceal, instead, it showcased the fragility and strength that coexisted within her.

With every movement, a sliver of leg or thigh would escape, a teasing glimpse of the beauty that lay beneath the surface. Her body, though frail, moved with a hesitant grace, and I couldn’t help but notice the way the dress highlighted her vulnerability and resilience. I felt a mix of guilt and desire, realizing that she had chosen to forgo any panties, perhaps as a sign of trust or a small rebellion against the control I had exerted over her life.The dining hall was grand and imposing, designed to intimidate and impress. The long, dark wooden table stretched out before us, adorned with a lavish spread of food and drink that neither of us could enjoy. The candlelight flickered, casting eerie shadows on the ornate walls and high, vaulted ceiling. The room was silent, save for the soft crackling of the fireplace at the far end.

I had arranged for the goblets of blood to be brought in discreetly, not wanting to further unsettle Cassara. She sat across from me, her frail form dwarfed by the high-backed chair. She looked even more delicate in the flickering light, the black lace dress highlighting her pale skin and the dark circles under her eyes. A servant entered quietly, placing a silver tray with two goblets filled with blood on the table. I dismissed him with a nod, and he retreated silently, leaving us alone. I picked up one of the goblets and held it out to her, trying to mask my anxiety. "Here," I said softly, my voice barely more than a whisper. "Drink. It will help."

Cassara hesitated, her fingers trembling as she reached for the goblet. She brought it to her lips and took a tentative sip, her face contorting with disgust. But she forced herself to drink more, understanding that this was her new reality. "How does it taste?" I asked, trying to gauge her reaction.

"Terrible," she replied, her voice hoarse. "But... I can manage."

I nodded, relieved that she was at least trying. We sat in silence for a while, the weight of our situation pressing down on us. I couldn't help but watch her, my mind racing with guilt and regret. I had done this to her, and now it was my responsibility to help her through it. "I know this is difficult," I said finally, breaking the silence. "But I promise you, I will do everything in my power to make this easier for you. You're not alone in this, Cassara."

She looked up at me, her emerald eyes still glowing faintly in the dim light. "Why did you do it, Astarion?" she asked, her voice tinged with a mix of curiosity and pain. "Why did you turn me?"

I took a deep breath, struggling to find the right words. "I couldn't bear the thought of losing you," I confessed. "It was a selfish act, born out of fear and desperation. I took away your choice, and for that, I am truly sorry. But now that we're here, I need you to understand that I will do whatever it takes to make this right."

Cassara's expression softened slightly, though the pain and confusion were still evident. "I want to believe you," she said quietly. "But it's hard. Everything is so different now."

"I know," I replied, my heart aching at her words. "I can't change what I've done, but I can help you adjust to this new life. We'll take it one day at a time." As the night wore on, we continued to talk, slowly bridging the gap that had formed between us. I told her about my own struggles with vampirism, sharing the darker parts of my past that I had never revealed to anyone. She listened, her eyes filled with a mix of empathy and sorrow.

By the time we finished our meal, there was a glimmer of understanding between us. It wasn't forgiveness, not yet, but it was a start. I escorted her back to my chambers, feeling a sense of hope that perhaps, with time and effort, we could find a way to navigate this dark path together. Before she retired for the night, I stopped her by the door. "Cassara," I said softly, taking her hand in mine. "Thank you for giving me a chance to make this right. I promise, I won't let you down."

She looked up at me, her eyes searching mine for any sign of deception. Finding none, she nodded slowly. "Alright, Astarion. One step at a time."

As she settled into the bed, I watched her for a moment longer, feeling a mix of relief and determination. I had a long way to go to earn her trust and forgiveness, but I was willing to do whatever it took. The feelings coursing through me were bewildering, a chaotic whirl of emotions that I had never experienced before. Protectiveness, vulnerability, fear—none of these had ever found a place in my heart. I had never wanted to protect someone before. I had never even wanted to be protected—never trusted anyone enough to allow it. Cassara had gone through hell because of me. She had almost died because of me. She had lost her mortality because of me. And through it all, she had remained her own person, never once losing the essence of who she was. Her strength, her resilience, her unwavering spirit—they were a stark contrast to the broken souls I had encountered in my past, those who had been under my control or those who had sought to control me.These feelings she stirred within me were terrifying, yet intoxicating. She made me feel alive in ways I had long forgotten or perhaps had never truly known. She was worth figuring it out—worth the risk of letting someone in. The walls I had built around my heart for centuries felt like they were crumbling, piece by piece, every time I looked at her.

I approached the bed, my footsteps soft against the cold stone floor. Cassara’s eyes fluttered open briefly, meeting mine with a mix of exhaustion and something else—something that resembled hope. I reached out and gently brushed a strand of hair from her face, my fingers lingering on her cool skin. “You’re safe here,” I whispered, my voice thick with emotion. “I promise I will do everything in my power to make sure you’re protected. I owe you that much.”

Her lips parted, but no words came out. Instead, she gave a small nod, her eyes closing once more as she succumbed to the fatigue that weighed heavily on her.The flickering candlelight cast long shadows on the walls, dancing in a silent testament to the turbulent journey ahead. I knew it wouldn’t be easy—there would be struggles, setbacks, and moments of doubt. But for the first time in my long, cursed existence, I felt a spark of something I had thought lost forever: hope. As I turned to leave the room, I glanced back one last time at Cassara. She was worth it. Worth the fear, worth the pain, worth the fight. And perhaps, just perhaps, she was worth the chance at redemption. With a deep breath, I stepped out into the corridor, the heavy wooden door closing softly behind me. The path ahead was uncertain, but for the first time, I was ready to face it, not alone, but with someone by my side. Someone who made me believe that maybe, just maybe, I could be more than the monster I had always feared I was.

[thelustybraavosimaid]

"Direwolves," Bran said. Still half-grown, they were as large as any wolf he had ever seen, but the differences were easy to spot, if you knew what to look for. Maester Luwin and Farlen the kennelmaster had taught him. A direwolf had a bigger head and longer legs in proportion to its body, and its snout and jaw were markedly leaner and more pronounced. There was something gaunt and terrible about them as they stood there amid the gently falling snow. (Bran V, AGoT)

This ties in pretty well with the Stark Look™️:

Longer-faced:

There were three tombs, side by side. Lord Rickard Stark, Ned's father, had a long, stern face. (Eddard I, AGoT)

--

The boy absorbed that all in silence. He had the Stark face if not the name: long, solemn, guarded, a face that gave nothing away. Whoever his mother had been, she had left little of herself in her son. (Tyrion II, AGoT)

--

The flames crackled softly, and in their crackling she heard the whispered name Jon Snow. His long face floated before her, limned in tongues of red and orange, appearing and disappearing again, a shadow half-seen behind a fluttering curtain. (Melisandre I, ADwD)

--

"He's to marry Arya Stark. My little sister." Jon could almost see her in that moment, long-faced and gawky, all knobby knees and sharp elbows, with her dirty face and tangled hair. (Jon VI, ADwD)

Lean/slender/skinny/gaunt:

He was of an age with Robb, but they did not look alike. Jon was slender where Robb was muscular, dark where Robb was fair, graceful and quick where his half brother was strong and fast. (Bran I, AGoT)

--

His uncle was sharp-featured and gaunt as a mountain crag, but there was always a hint of laughter in his blue-grey eyes. (Jon I, AGoT)

--

"The left is good. All is reversed, it will make your enemies more awkward. Now you are standing wrong. Turn your body sideface, yes, so. You are skinny as the shaft of a spear, do you know. That is good too, the target is smaller. Now the grip. Let me see." (Arya II, AGoT)

--

Theon Stark's the real thin one with the long hair and the skinny beard. They called him the 'Hungry Wolf,' because he was always at war. (Bran VII, AGoT)

Long-legged:

Benjen Stark straddled the bench with long legs and took the wine cup out of Jon's hand. (Jon I, AGoT)

--

Skinny as they were, her legs were strong and springy and growing longer every day. She was glad of that. A water dancer needs good legs. Blind Beth was no water dancer, but she would not be Beth forever. (The Blind Girl, ADwD)

--

That's a Brandon, the tall one with the dreamy face, he was Brandon the Shipwright, because he loved the sea. (Bran VII, AGoT)

Also:

The Weeper's red rheumy eyes gave Jon another look. "Aye? Well, he has a wolfish cast to him, now as I look close. Bring him to Mance, might be he'll keep him." (Jon I, ASoS)

--------

"It has a name, does it?" Her father sighed. "Ah, Arya. You have a wildness in you, child. 'The wolf blood,' my father used to call it. Lyanna had a touch of it, and my brother Brandon more than a touch. It brought them both to an early grave." (Arya II, AGoT)

[sissy-mommydear]

never imagined my life would take such a strange turn. It all started a few months ago when my mom began insisting that I eat every meal she cooked. I didn't think much of it at the time, assuming she was just being overprotective. But now, looking back, I realize that she was sneaking hormones into my food.

It wasn't until my sister pointed out my increasingly large butt that I even realized something was happening. At first, I didn't mind the attention, as it was kind of cool to have such a big butt. But as it continued to grow, I began to worry. My shorts were getting tighter, and I couldn't wear any of my old clothes.

That's when my sister suggested I try on some booty shorts. I was hesitant at first, but she convinced me they were in style. Little did I know that those shorts would only draw more attention to my growing ass. It seems like every day it gets bigger and rounder, and I can feel it wobbling with every step I take.

As if that wasn't enough, my face has also changed. It's become more feminine, and my hair has grown long and silky. I can't help but feel like I'm slowly turning into a woman.

The last thing to start growing were my boobs. They're not huge yet, but I can feel them bouncing with every movement. I'm not sure what to do about them, as they're becoming harder and harder to hide.

Despite all of these changes, I find myself enjoying my new body. I've started trying on more feminine clothes, and I love the way they look on me. It's like I'm discovering a whole new side of myself.

I don't know what the future holds, but I know that I'll continue to document these changes in my journal. Who knows, maybe someday I'll even be proud of my big, bouncing butt and my growing breasts.

As time went on, the changes in my body became more and more pronounced. My hips got wider, and my waist got smaller, giving me a more feminine frame. At first, I was self-conscious about these changes, but as my butt continued to grow, I started to embrace them.

I began working out regularly, focusing on exercises that would make my butt even bigger. I loved going to the gym and showing off my big, round butt to the guys there. Every time I walked by, it would jiggle around with every step, and I could see the admiration in their eyes.

One day, I decided to try on a skirt, and I was amazed at how long and feminine my legs looked. I felt like a whole new person. But it wasn't until I tried on some leggings and a sports bra that I realized how big my butt had gotten. It was huge, and the leggings showed it off perfectly, jiggling with every movement.

Feeling confident, I decided to go for a run around the neighborhood, wearing my leggings and sports bra. I was cat-called multiple times, and a couple of people even spanked my butt. At first, it made me uncomfortable, but then I started to enjoy the attention. I liked feeling desired, and the fact that my big, jiggly butt was causing such a stir only added to my pleasure.

Looking back on my journey, I can't believe how much my body has changed. But I wouldn't have it any other way. I love my big, bouncing butt, my growing boobs, and my more feminine features. Who knows where this journey will take me next, but I'm excited to find out.

[siriusisntcis]

A Trans James Potter Story

Chapter 1

James Potter was a confident young man. At the age of 5 he told his parents that there was something wrong with him. They assured him there was nothing wrong with him and that they would love him no matter what until he finally told them that he felt like a boy. James had always been a boy but he was born into the wrong body, a girl's body. 

Since James had told his parents they were trying their best to make their son feel like himself. They figured out that a person who felt like they were born in the wrong body was called a transsexual. Although they didn’t enjoy that term they still researched. 

They helped cut his hair and picked him out a new wardrobe. His father had actually been the one to cut his hair since he came out. Fleamont had been cutting his own hair for a while because he didn’t trust barbers to not mess up his “look”. They even managed to change his name on his birth certificate, which was a process. But finding a gender changing spell that would last and change with him through puberty was a bit harder. 

It wasn’t until before his first year at Hogwarts in 1971 that the term transgender was coined. That felt more like him. He was transgender. But he wanted a fresh start. He didn’t want anyone at Hogwarts to know.

Him, his mother, and his father were all at platform 9 ¾. Euphemia was smothering him telling James how much she would miss him and how she was sure he would do great. His father simply ruffled his hair and told him he was excited to hear stories when he got back. His mother got off him with tears in her eyes. 

James excitedly ran off after his goodbyes. He was excited to make new friends as he was homeschooled and always around the same people. He put his trunk in the storage compartment below the train. He fluffed up his hair before he walked onto the train. He had his hair in a quiff right now, but when unstyled it was a fringe that went right above his eyes. His hair was slightly wavy and a nice chocolate brown. 

He walked through looking in every compartment trying to find someone to sit with. He spotted a red haired girl with a greasy black haired boy, a blonde girl, a girl with braids down to her back, a girl with black curly hair, and finally at the last compartment a black haired boy with a tear stained face. He walked in. “Oi can I sit with you?” He asked, he always had to make a conscious effort to lower his voice, he had to always be aware of every little thing he was doing to make sure he was being as masculine as possible.

The boy simply nodded at James. His hair was long and shiny, it almost went down to his shoulders. His eyes were blue and bloodshot making them even more piercing. He had another distinctive feature which was that his cheek bones were so strong and pronounced. “I’m James, James Potter,” He introduced. The boy let out a laugh.

“A Potter aye? My father told me to stay away from your Gryffindor ass,” He said in a very posh voice, the word ass sounded wrong coming out of his mouth. It felt like he should be saying buttocks. “I’m Sirius Black,” He said, a sly smirk coming onto his face. His last name was recognizable and he knew it.

“A Black aye?” James copied, “My dad told me your family was no good,” Which was true. He said the Blacks were a bunch of no good Slytherins who only cared about power. Sirius didn’t seem that way though, there was a certain sadness in his eyes that James was able to see.

“Can I sit with you lads?” A squeaky voice James recognized asked. It was Peter Pettigrew. He had grown up with him as they were both home schooled. Luckily they didn’t meet when James looked like a girl. So his mission to keep it a secret at Hogwarts wasn’t compromised. Sirius nodded and James said of course. He plopped himself down right next to James. Shortly after the last call horn rang and they heard someone quickly run onto the train. 

“Sorry all the others are full,” A boy with a grown out buzz cut said, shuffling himself in. He sat next to Sirius putting his beat up suitcase between his legs. He must’ve not noticed the compartment to put his stuff in while he was rushing. “I’m Remus by the way,” He said in a bit of a rough accent. He sounded the opposite of Sirius’ posh voice. “Remus Lupin,” He told them.

“I’m James Potter, and this is Peter Pettigrew,” James introduced both of them because he knew Peter got a bit shy around new people. Sirius introduced himself to Remus and they shook hands. That’s when the train started to roll. It all started to feel so real.

[cavvyiswriting]

I was a young woman, barely an adult and already the last of my family, and the only one left to tend to the family farm. I was the only woman in town without a husband, and received more than my share of ridicule for it, but I was disinterested in the men about the village, thought with their muscles instead of their brain.

Years went by, and an ennui set in, I was living, but not for anything. So it was quite a shock when I am simply tending the sheep one morning and suddenly the largest dragon you've ever seen —bigger than my small cottage even— lands in my field and drops a child from its grasp. Giving her to me.

I remember being overcome with emotions at the sudden news, likely dropping to my knees and sobbing, happy to finally have a child of my own to care for, without having to resort to courting a man I have no interest in.

"Yes, child, I'm your mommy now."

The years went by as they always had, but much more exciting than they ever had been. I gave the young girl a name that was pronouncable by humans, Aithne, a fitting name to be sure. I taught her to till the fields and care for the animals, and when she came of age, I sent her off to her first years of school.

As she matured little by little, we noticed her draconic features become more pronounced. Her tail began to poke holes in her rough linen pants, small red scales began to form on her back, and her horns began to grow. She was always self-conscious of her small wings, though.

I have fond memories of her first growth spurt; She shot up like a weed in hardly a fortnight and became stronger than most of the men in the village before she was even a woman! She got into trouble as all children do, I remember her first cracked horn. And needless to say, the guards weren't at all pleased when she started to practice her firebreathing in town, but she was my child, and I loved her dearly through all of it.

Once she came of age, she moved away, eager to begin her own life, stopping by to visit from time to time, and I have no doubt she attempted to seek out her birth father more than once. There was nearly a four year period when she didn't visit, but she tried to send a letter whenever she found the time. I was never worried. If anyone could handle the world, it's Aithne.

Now she's a grown woman, and I grow old, my hair grays, and I can no longer do all the chores I need to. So wouldn't you imagine my surprise when a litter of half-dragon children sprinted through my door one day, followed closely behind by Aithne, trying to wrangle all 4 into behaving. They all looked so much like her when she practically landed in my lap.

They stayed for dinner, where she explained that she had traveled all over the continent in her years of adulthood. She'd even found love in a man that proved to be as unreliable as her father. But in her own words, "No matter how far I traveled, be it the coastal cities wreathed in gold to the east, the high mountains of my dragon kin in the north, or the scorching southern mesas where fire magic reigned supreme, there was nowhere that felt more like home than this simple farm in a village with one well."

After dinner, the young dragons gathered around my rocking chair by the fire, so I could tell them the story of their mother and of her many names throughout her youth, Aithne the Orphan Dragon, Aithne the Firebrand, Aithne Broken-horn.

When I finished, the children gathered around and started begging for more stories of their mother, Aithne simply sat there, enjoying the warmth of the small family cottage.

I remember dropping to my knees and hugging them tightly while they called me "Grandmother." I sobbed, happy that I have a family of my own.

Aithne, my daughter, crouched down beside me and whispered, "It's okay, Mama, we are all a family."

You are a humble farmer when a dragon suddenly appears, he wants you to take his young dragon daughter that is unable to turn fully into a dragon and no longer wants her, before you could respond he fly’s away leaving her behind, she then looks at you and ask “Are you my new daddie/mommy?”

[plutothe-pup]

Nicknames: Pluto, Milo, Min Age: 19 Birthday: June 30th, 2004 Pronouns: He / His Magic Status: Mundus - Cursed

General TW: Abuse / Anxiety / Depression / Animal Abuse / Death Mentions / Injuries / Scar Mentions / ETC.

Overview:

Mother: Choi Hayul - Deceased Father: Gae Ji-hun - Deceased Mother’s Occupation: Stay at Home Mother / Market Clerk Father’s Occupation: Huntsclan Member / "Accounting/Business" Family Finances: Upper Middle Class. Other Close Family:  - Pip Seville (Brother? Hyung? Sibling of dog-adoption?) - Amy Seville (....figuratively adoptive...aunt??????) - Gae Seong-Min (Grandfather) - Presumed Deceased - Lee Kyung-Soon (Grandmother) - Deceased. (He was named after his grandparents (Kyung-Soon + Seong-Min = Kyung-Min) Pets: Booboo (Pip's Dog) Home Life During Childhood: Strict. He grew up under 'law and order' kind of parenting from his father and grandfather. His purpose and path were incredibly clear from the start and he was to be molded into a warrior for the clan. Everything was precise and everything was calculated. That was all he had known from a very young age. However it did not mean that he did not receive warmth and love from his mom and grandmother. What little freedom from the discipline he knew best usually came from them. What Did His or Her Bedroom Look Like: Clean. Orderly. Pretty much like a military-raised kid's room might look. Very neutral and devoid of anything 'childish' or kid-like. He had a bed that was always well made and kept, a dresser without any personal effects, and a desk. Any Sports or Clubs: Just the Huntsclan and various huntsclan training as a kid. Once in Swynlake, he wanted to join any club he could (SSIC / Swimming / Outdoors Club / Theater Club / Chorus / F.R.O.G) Favorite Toy or Game: He didn't have a lot of toys growing up. The only thing he really remembers is a small stuffed bear that he was given at birth. He kept it all through his childhood, always sat neatly on his bed. However when he was six, his father took it away for being 'too old' to have stuffed animals. His mother had secretly kept it, and returned it to him when she found him again after his father's death. Unfortunately it was once again lost when he became a dog and he lost all of his possessions. Currently his favorite toy remains 'ducky'. A stuffed dog toy duck that he got from Sharon and managed to keep through to the Seville household. Schooling: Homeschooled by his family and the organization until he came to Swynlake. He then took one year at Swynlake Secondary. Unfortunately he flunked out due to an inability to conform to 'regular' schooling. Favorite Subject: Knife throwing as a kid. Science in Secondary. Popular or Loner: Loner. Nationality: American. (2nd Generation) Ethnicity: South Korean Accent: Northeast (Philly) Religion and beliefs: Christian (Doesn't go to church. Will still pray before bed) (he doesn't know why - no one has answered)

Physical Appearance

Face Claim: Kim Mingyu Movie/Era Representation: Currently 2024 Kim Mingyu for hair(subject to change based on hair styles), but honestly his face is probably more 2016 Mingyu. Milo still has a bit of a baby face. He hasn't quite grown into all of his sharp features yet. Complexion: Type III - Has light freckles and a few distinguishable moles on the tip of his nose, on his cheek under his eye. Think this photoshoot concept but the freckles are yanno, real.

Hair Colour: Dark Brown / Black Eye Colour: Deep Brown. Height: 6'2. Weight: 161lbs. (Currently lost weight / muscle mass from recovery) Build: Athletic / Toned Notable Features: Pronounced canine teeth (cute wittle fangs), line scars across both palms, missing pinky finger on right hand, scarring from impalement on right shoulder.  Tattoos: He has a tattoo as a dog inside of his ear that one of the pounds gave him. It’s a simple number ‘1797′ and the word ‘PLUTO’. It stays with him when he transforms back to human, but now directly behind his ear. Considers getting others or at least covering up that one. Piercings: None - though he sometimes considers getting his ears pierced. Common Hairstyle: Depends on the length. Usually he has it brushed back regardless though (showing forehead) or has it parted with face framing pieces. (X) is his absolute favorite style to wear when length allows. (X) is his current (SHORT) style. Clothing Style: He hasn't quite developed a style so much yet. He still lets Pip dress him up and dictate what he wears a lot because it's easier and Pip's much more educated on the subject of fashion. Mannerisms: Head tilting, Pouting / pursing lips, biting his cheek/tongue, avoids eye contact, cracking knuckles, idle/absent shifting on feet, rubbing back of neck/hair/cheek when nervous. Tendency to mumble / has a lisp, covers mouth whenever chewing / laughing, tendency to keep looking over his shoulder/behind him, will 'reset' back to the default position of keeping his hands politely and respectfully tucked behind his back with straight posture. Usual Expression: Soft Smile.

Health

Overall (do they get sick easily)?: Sometimes. Milo's a fit individual with a good immune system, but he still suffers from time to time with ailments like fatigue, muscle weakness, nausea, etc - most of which stem from his recovering injuries, chronic lyme, or his anxiety. Unfortunately its become a habit for him to hide whenever he's feeling badly (from being a dog) but there are always signs. Physical Ailments: Weakness on right side (recovery from abrasive shoulder injury/torn rotator cuff), Right-Hand grip strength issues (missing right pinky), occasional tremors in right hand/arm. Disorders :  PTSD (Undiagnosed), Anxiety (Undiagnosed). Neurological Conditions: Lyme Disease (PTLDS) Allergies: None that he knows of. Grooming Habits: Excellent! Boy did Milo hate not having control over his grooming habits as a dog, and it bothered the hell out of him with every owner (except Pip and Amy!!! Because Pip pampers his dogs more than anything else). Milo was always a clean hygienic person, but especially after his long stint as Pluto, now more than ever he is pretty anal about it. He can and will shower twice a day depending on what he was doing that day, he brushes his teeth more than twice a day, sometimes his hair is a mess, but it's always a clean mess. Otherwise, he follows Pip closely on a skin-care routine, keeps his nails trimmed and proper, and often cuts his own hair when he sees fit. Sleeping Habits: Light sleeper. Even though he can and will fall asleep anywhere (especially during a movie/if someone plays with his hair) (but seriously I mean ANYWHERE. Habit from being a dog. That means a stony ground, a tub, a closet, in the woods, etc), he very easily is disturbed from his sleep from the slightest things (a creaking floorboard, a car driving by, the sudden sound of silence, etc) Eating Habits: He used to be a good eater - and would have the appetite of a small army, eating three hardy meals a day when he could, or at the very least an excellent dinner as well as a good lunch or breakfast. He'd also be all about snacks and desserts. Ever since the Demon-Incident(TM), his surgeries, etc - his appetite has diminished, and he tends to only eat one small meal a day these days, and will turn down or not finish snacks, sweets, etc. Exercise Habits: Daily. Although stunted slightly due to his injuries, Milo's regular habit is to go to the gym daily if he can or at least engage in exercise daily. He loves to go for a run, and will often jog/run in the mornings or evenings throughout the town. He's currently back to his regular schedule, and is working on strength training three times a week to rehab his bad-side. Emotional Stability: Sensitive: Milo's got a large heart and wears his emotions on his sleeves. While he's not often quick to anger, he is quick to upset. Things that people say to him will bury under his skin and crack at his heart too easily. Though he usually is able to rebound and shake things off with a good night's sleep, it doesn't mean he isn't still affected by it. Body Temperature: As a human he runs cold and gets cold easily - as a dog, he's warm and cozy. Sociability: Milo's the shyest people person you'll ever meet. He both is a social butterfly and yet also incredibly shy and reclusive at the same time. He isn't a huge fan of opening up to people he doesn't know very well or in large groups, but he also is too nice to not initiate and reach out to strangers when the opportunity arises. He'll always put being friendly to others over his own discomfort and shyness.

Addictions: None Drug Use: None! Pip would kill him! (Also he isn't in a circle that would make this a problem. If he had bad influences around, it would be) Alcohol Use: Rare / Social if he has to but he would rather not.

Your Character’s Character:

Bad Habits: Using slang, mumbling to himself, using a non-mutual language, not getting enough sleep, skipping meals, criticizing himself, overworking, fidgeting, resource guarding (this is a joke, but like he gets uncomfortable when people touch his stuff and he doesn't want them to), mirroring others. Good Habits: Exercise Routine, Making his bed the second he's out of it, keeping shoes off in the house, maintaining his volume level, listening to others, Offering to/just helping without being asked, cleaning up after himself, being on time (early). Best Characteristic: Loyalty. Worst Characteristic: Either how stubborn he is or how naive he is. Worst Memory(s): Finding out his dad died. Watching his mom die. His first night in a shelter as a dog. Realizing he might never be human again. Being taken away from Sharon. His stay with Felix. The demon-incident. The entire summer of 2023, really. Best Memory: Being adopted by the Sevilles. Proud of: .....He's not sure. Embarrassed by: His curse. Driving Style: Doesn't. (But if he did, he would be a cautious, safe, but casual driver. One hand on the steering wheel, but constantly defensive driving/watching everything to make sure no one does anything stupid). Strong Points: Fast learner, Loyal, Flexible, Resourceful, Determined, Disciplined. Temperament: Phlegmatic. Attitude: Helper: Cheerful, supportive, sensitive, concerned Weakness: His willingness to trust people too easily. Fears: Thunderstorms. Doctors. Becoming a dog again. People he cares about getting hurt/dying. The Huntsclan finding him. Heights. Loud noises. Getting hurt. Getting trapped. Small spaces. Being abandoned. Running into past 'owners'. Running into Huntsclan members. Phobias: Being alone. Being touched. Silence. Secrets: Learning he can pay to break his curse. That Rose is the Huntsgirl. Being in/former member of the Huntsclan. Regrets: Becoming cursed. Fighting with Tony. Letting his guard down. Leaving Ruff to Fluff and not listening to Luca. Letting Pip down. Upsetting Pip. Upsetting Amy. Feels Vulnerable When: Talking about himself, his past or his family. When he talks about his curse. Pet Peeves: People watching videos without headphones, Talking over someone, disrespecting elders/parents/etc, Being rude in general, passive aggressive behavior. Conflicts: Making his parents proud, and being who his parents wanted him to be vs making Pip proud and being who he wants to be. Motivation: To be better. Short Term Goals and Hopes: To break his curse and to do well at his job and help Amy and Pip however he can. Long Term Goals and Hopes: To be happy, and surrounded by family and to see Pip accomplish his hopes and dreams. Sexuality: Bisexual, he thinks. He isn't sure. He thinks boys, girls, theys and gays are all pretty. Exercise Routine: Early Morning or late evening run (3-5 miles depending on how much time he has). When he goes to the gym he'll swap out his days and rotate through core, upper and lower body. He doesn't focus on cardio at the gym and instead focusing mainly on strength training / lifting. Occasionally he'll attempt things like yoga with Pip, but otherwise he'll do stretches before bed. Day or Night Person: Day. Specifically morning. He's a very 'up and at 'em' kind of guy. Probably because that was how it always was for him. Staying up late is a lot harder (which is why he hates time zones in baseball season). Introvert or Extrovert: Ambivert. Optimist or Pessimist: Optimist.

Likes and Styles:

Music: Milo's still kind of discovering this, but he is big into K-Pop just because it is comforting to him and it connects him a lot with his culture that he feels pretty removed from these days. He loves SVT (meta), EXO, Shinee, New Jeans, IU - pretty much anything Pip was into because he got a lot of his recs from him. He is not a BTS-Anti like Pip though. Otherwise, Milo's a big pop/rock fan. He likes stuff he can run to. He dislikes country. Books: .....idk if Milo has read a single book ever (dramatic but ... like real too) Magazines: ......idk if Milo has read a single magazine ever (not dramatic, do kids these days even know what a magazine is????? he literally probs doesn't) Foods: Gogi-jeon is his absolutely favorite little snack food ever in his entire life. He'll die by it. Otherwise though he really doesn't dislike a ton of food, so that's to say he will eat a lot without complaint (again, ingrained in him). He's a big meat eater, though he will sometimes make a slight face a fish (he doesn't like it, but will always eat it not to be rude). Drinks: Water. Iced americano. Animals: Dogs! He loves dogs! Though he likes most animals too! (He doesn't like cats) Sports: BASEBALL. Baseball is his favorite sport to watch AND to play. Social Issues: Milo is for the people. He thinks. He's liberal in reality, he supports all the usual issues and will stand up for what he thinks is right. He does have some things that stick a bit in his brain from childhood though, which is to say that he does dip on the anti-magick scale a fair bit. He does believe that there are dangerous magicks. He does believe that Vampires and Werewolves?????? Are NOT GOOD. They are BAD. He doesn't say this out loud, but he thinks it. Color: Red! He loves reds because he missed seeing that color so much as a dog, so any tints of red/pink/orange he adores. Clothing: As stated earlier: his fashion is 100% inspired/guided by Pip. He does dress pretty.... 'fancy' because of this though. Lots of layers and cute matching jackets/bright colors, button up shirts, etc. He is just as likely to be wearing jeans and a sweatshirt though. Jewelry: He wears matching friendship bracelets that he got for each one of his best friends (Pip, King, Luca, etc). Otherwise not usually wearing too much jewelry. It's expensive! Games: He's not a big gamer. He still just plays things on his phone (like BTS in the Seom, 2048, Wordle, tetris, Crossy Road. Websites: Youtube. Twitter. The Spill (Tumblr). TV Shows: Anything Gordon Ramsey (24hrs to hell and back, hotel hell, Hell's Kitchen, Kitchen Nightmares, etc). Great British Bake-Off, Movies: Honestly.... he's bad at movies. He falls asleep through them 100% of the time, so if you ask him his favorite, he'll have a tough time pulling one to the front of his mind to say. By default he's just started naming any movie filmed or based in Philly. Greatest Want: To break his curse. Greatest Need: To stay with Pip / Not to be alone.

Where and How Does Your Character Live Now:

Home: The Seville Household: At first he thought this was a very temporary situation, but at this point, he refers to it openly and easily as 'home' and it feels that way too. Safe and sound. Room Furnishings: Pip and Amy kindly 'sacrificed' the basement to become Milo's room - again, a short term solution that has long since just become permanent. He has a proper bed now and everything, which he keeps pushed up against the wall in the corner. Because the basement is still the 'party basement' - Milo doesn't really have much in terms of 'decoration' there. Not that he would really know how to decorate a room if he properly had one either though, since he never did as a kid. However, it still does feel homey to him, especially his bed, which he's kind of hoarded all things soft and fluffy onto. All of his stuffed animals he's gotten as gifts (or won at the fair) (and ducky ofc), and lots of blankets and pillows. He also has pictures of his friends taped on the wall beside his bed (him and Pip, him and Amy, him and King, Luca, Tae, Mim, Etc). He also still keeps the prom-baseballs that Luca made him on the mantle, as promised. The framed picture of his parents from Luca is also sitting beside his bed - so that he can say good morning and goodnight to them every day. Favorite Possession: Ducky. Most Cherished Possession: The sketch of his parents. Neighborhood: Tortuga Town or City Name: Swynlake. Relationship with Family: He's always had a good relationship with his family. Even growing up in a 'cult' household. He never had ill-feelings towards any of his family or parents. He didn't know anything other than what he had, and what he thought he had was love and support. Living now with Amy and Pip, he knows that maybe some of the things he grew up with were actually more on the line of cold and abusive, but he still does not want to see things that way and still loves his family very much despite struggling with the concept of everything he's learned. Car: He doesn't have one! Nor can he drive - though he considers asking Mim to teach him. Career: Line-cook at the Moon Market, serving up traditional Korean meals. Dream Career: He literally doesn't know. This is his problem. Dream Life: ......to be loved. Love Life: He refuses to have one. Talents or Skills: Fully Bilingual, Conversationally Tri-lingual. Archery. Knife throwing. Small arms combat. Hand to Hand combat. Self-Defense. Target Shooting. Gun Handling. Weapons combat. 'Dangerous Magic' hunting / poaching. Fairy / Mermaid / Elf poaching/hunting knowledge. Strength Training. Endurance. Agility. Stealth. Basic first aid. Basic wilderness survival. Piano. Basic singing/rapping. Intelligence Level: He's incredibly street smart, and in reality he is intelligent, just not in the 'book' aspect. He's a bad test taker/bad at sitting in classes and focusing there. He's amazing at hands on learning and quickly picks things up. As long as he can see and do. He's not stupid - he's just too trusting and too naive. Finances: Personally poor. Past Careers: Stocker/Register at Moon Market (Promoted). PA for Marie (She ghosted him after the security fiasco). Film Security for the Olive Bright Movie (Fired). Secondary Student (Dropped out). Future Huntsclan Protegee (Became Cursed and was banished/fled/etc) Past Lovers: None. (Unless you consider the fact he acknowledges he's in love with Luca but refuses to allow anything to come of it).

To the Audience: What are things you can't always describe about your character but want others to know?

Talking Style: I can't write it out, but always know that Milo has a pretty distinguishable lisp (stolen directly from his FC - so if you've ever heard Mingyu speak, imagine that. If you haven't, this song is one of the best examples, but I recognize it's hard to hear it when you're not constantly hearing the language/difference). While he's fluent in English, I also like to point out that it is his second language and he does struggle with some pronunciation and recalling words. Despite that, his accent is indescribably Philly. Which for those of you who don't know, is basically described as a 'southern accent that doesn't quite get there'. Or a combination of a NY/Chicago/Southern accent. Anyways, what I'm saying is, if this man is speaking english he kinda sounds like a douche tbh.

Respectful: Milo was raised incredibly disciplined and will almost always be reacting respectfully towards people. Expect that he greets everyone at all times with a small bow of his head at the very least, or a progressively deeper one with people he holds in higher regards.

Touch averse: Because of his curse, if Milo doesn't know you, he keeps his distance. He'll avoid shaking hands (now bc of his missing pinky more so than touch but still) and will step back if you step into his pre-determined space.

Pip: Assume if he's in a place with Pip that he's always pretty nearby. He genuinely is his shadow.

Other details:

Curse details:

With Pluto’s curse, any meaningful display of affection triggers him to turn back into a dog. This means, essentially anything more than holding hands with a person can put him back into his four-legged state. Cuddling, kissing, hugging, etc will all cause his curse to react. The length of time he’s spent in his dogsona is influenced in how much the affection meant to him. For example, if he truly loved the person he were engaging with, it would drastically lengthen the time in which he spent as a dog. Whereas if a stranger hugged him, he might just turn into a dog for a half an hour or so.  There’s no known limit on how long he could stay as a dog, and has gone years since hugging his mother. However, unknown to Pluto - under his curse, any true love’s kiss will seal the curse forever, ensuring he’ll live as a dog until he dies.  On the other hand - it’s resentment and hate and suffering that do the opposite. A truly spiteful and cruel act would break the curse indefinitely - and not that Pluto knows that, but he’s also certainly too good of heart to ever find that out….. What he's discovered through Pip/experimentations are the limits of said 'affection' and how indirect (through blankets/blocks/etc) seem to prevent the curse from taking affect. Milo is also uncertain, but thinks that every time his curse is triggered, that Pluto ages - and that his dog-age is not directly dependent on his real age/how long he spends as Pluto. Which means he's worried that constant re-triggers of his curse will quickly age-up his dog-self and kill him.

Milo's owner timeline:

Picked up by animal control shortly after escaping his mother's apartment.

Spent a month at an ASPCA in Philly getting a full work up before he was 'adoptable'. He considers this time his personal hell. He was still just a kid and it was one of the scariest things he ever went through, even to this day.

Milton: First owner (3 Months, Surrender for aggression/too loud/etc). Wanted a good hunting dog for the weekends out of Philly, but couldn't get Pluto trained no matter what he tried, took back to the shelter.

Sharon: Older single retired woman (2 years). Played Piano. Obsessed with plants. Little old lady who wanted a companion after her husband passed. Was incredibly sweet and one of Pluto's best memories. Where he got 'Ducky'. After two years with her, Sharon was taken to a nursing home and had to surrender Pluto when her kids refused to take him. One of the only owners he will talk about and regard kindly. He thinks about Sharon a lot and hopes she's alive and doing well.

Felix: Abusive. Short tempered. Criminal. (~1 Year). Wanted a 'guard' dog for his 'business'. Also considered the dog-fighting trade (but did not). Moved the pair of them to England when he had to run from a #situation. Milo eventually fought back against Felix, got loose, got picked up by animal control. Was nearly Euthanized but was saved by an anti-kill shelter protest that emptied the shelter and vowed to find homes for all animals at the time. Also one of the other scariest times of his life. He will not talk about this and genuinely is afraid he might run into this guy some day again.

Failed to Find a Home via this program/protest. Was transferred to another shelter and ended up in NTO.

Transferred to Gregory as a 'Last Chance' option - was moved to Ruff to Fluff and was trained/evaluated for adoption.

Was Adopted by Amy Seville.

Dog Form:

[raid3r-r4bbit]

Okay, I feel the need to point out that Gage's accent is not remotely Cajun.

TLDR: Cause this is RREEAAAly long:

I do love the idea of him being Cajun and I think it would suit a charcter like him, and I agree on him being mixed/not white. Not only does he have textured hair (when there are plenty of other hair styles they could have used made including two other mohawks for male player characters.) But he's also got some distincly non-white facial features. Personally, I dont think his accent is actually all that important to what race he is but ill bring that back up later. But I actually think Gage is arabic/middle eastern.

I also want to make it clear the majority of this rant is not to disprove his race or anything. Again, I dont think he's white, and I'm also very bothered when people give him whispy white boy hair, this is (mostly) not about his race it's about his accent and where he's from. He could be Cajun and have had grown up somewhere else.

Here'sNOw a few videos of different Cerole and Cajun accents:

New Orleans/ Creole examples.

Cajun accent example.

Now, my roommate is from LA (the state, im bad at spelling).

I was raised in WV, born in FL, and my mom and most of my family is from NC. I also have a lot of family in FL and SC. So I have a lot of familiarity of southern dialects. I'm not an expert, though, and im going off various examples and my own experience.

Now here's a few other examples of other southern accents and dialects that i think suit his speech pattern a little better:

Kentucky accent example.

I think this one is a little twangy (not that im one to talk I'm twangy as shit), but overall I like this one. The way he rounds his 'ar' in farm and the general speed and pattern of the way he talks matches well.

Alabama exapmle(s).

This one is a good example of a mix between the general american accent mixed with an alabama accent, but also a more intese/extreme version of the accent. In this one, if you slow him down a lot the pattern of his speech matches well, maybe not the dialect, also the way he says "could" in particular, also his "thats it!"

he turns the "it" into "eyuht" which if you just add an "sh" its... "Sheyut."

It could also be an appilachian accent but I dont want to project.

The main thing here is Gage speaks with an accent that is rhotic, elongates vowels, ever so slightly twangy, and still pronounces t's. He also cuts off the ends of words ending in "ing" which turn them in "runnin'". He doesnt use a lot of slang, and while he does say ain't once or twice, he's actually very articulate; Saying would not, instead of wouldn't. (He doesnt always do this, but again, people with heavy southern accents rarely do it unless we actually mean to. I think the only time I do it is when my cat tries to do something he's not supposed to and I tell him "DO NOT". other wise, I have actually noticed that he clearly seperates these in normal coversation multiple times.

Now: Let's take a look at Irl and in game maps for comparision:

Here I've highlighted the two individual states that I feel have an accent that most closely resembles his, Alabama and Kentucky. This is a general map that highlights common and noticebale accents in the US, today.

Here are those two highlights again, this time with the 13 commonweaths. I've also Highlighted where F04 takes place. Now, i will say, on a map, Nukaworld is more inland, and that distance and real time walking is a bit skewed from IRL, But considering where Boston is, I dont doubt that Nukaworld is still in Massachusetts.

If you're not in the US, you may not realize just how big the US is. Most states are around the same size as individual Countries from the UK/Europe and Pretty much the rest of the world other than India, China, Canada, and Russia; and even then Texas and Alaska are absolutley MASSIVE.

(to be fair, working cars are a thing that exsists in the fallout universe. while we see some in game examples of flying vehicles and boats we dont see any cars because Bethesda doesnt want to make them. They've said that, and thats the only reason we walk everywhere. But most of the Caravans we see in every game use Brhamins and travel by foot, so I'm going based off the knowleged that most caravans/companies travel this way. It's probably quiter and means you're less likely to attract attention, anyways.)

This means that walking and trading would be difficult accross large spans. We know he spent some time in a caravan and also doing mercenary work before becoming a raider at 16. While we dont have any information about the Gulf CW or and very very very little information about the SE CW we have a good bit of really early info about the ES CW and a lot about the Colombian CW.

Im not great at making maps or theoretica trading routes, but I can tell you that the LA (state) part of the gulf coast likely has trade routes leading west, into areas that are more landlocked, to trade fish and seafood for things like wheat. on the east side of the Gulf CW they're likely to trade north, for the same reason.

We know regardless that for him to have gotten to Nukaworld, he'd have to travel North East quite aways. Not only that, but raiders in the West are far less organized than in the East.

On the West coast they're less 'gang' like and more tribe like, and often resort to ambushing or stealing at night. On the East, because more people live in smaller pocket communities and farms, and because cities make good cover for hide outs we see more traps, baitings or full on detroying settlements and taking them over.

This also means that the raiding style he described expericing on his parents farm is inconsistant with what would have happened had he lived in a more west location.

Now, curball so I can acctually end this rant.

Here's a map of the Most commonly spoken non English or Sapanish languages in America by state, I bring this up because of immigration from other countries in the us. If you'll notice, Tennsee, which is in between Kentucky and Alabama, has Arabic as it's most commononly spoken non English or Spanish language. (So does wv but again, im trying not to project.)

It's also in the right general area for trade routes and mercenary groups to travel North East.

SO, in conclusion; based soley off of his accent and back story, I posit you: Gage is arabic (or partially) and is from the East Central Commonwealth, around the kentucky tennesee area.

Again, this is all just my speculation, and you're free to have whatever opinion or head cannons you want. World buildingis something I really love, and while Bethesda does a good job (IMO) most of the time, a good bit of the time they either dont talk about it (the fucking eyepatch) or they leave it intentionally really vauge. I'm not hating on anyone who likes to think he's cajun, thats fine. (I actually do like it a lot, my little autistic brain just dosen't let me enjoy things.)

this feels like such a super petty pet peeve but it bothers me that

so many people don't seem to notice Gage has textured hair? Like, not just a whispy hawk, he's using a hair style that's obviously curly/textured and idk it bothers me a lot when there are so many mods (and sometimes fan art) that kind of whitewashes him? I'm not sure if that's the right word but it's like... a thing

disclaimer is that i'm white as hell and I've spent a lot of time looking at Gage to reference and study for art stuff and when I went to look at fan art or mods for him it's like, one of the big things that always gets changed?

it just stuck out to me immediately and it's something i see a lot but I don't know how to really talk about it or if it's even worth talking about tbh

[momolady]

Mancini the Pink Rakshasa

This is a very special story, featuring a very unique romantic lead. Inspired by the classic Pink Panther cartoons and a little bit of con artists, we have Mancini, a remarkable jewel thief and charmer.

Female Reader (cis) x Male Monster (trans)

///////////////////////////////////

His voice on the other end of the line was exactly what I needed to hear. I’d just quit my dream job and had been sitting in my own filth for a week. The phone rang to some strange number, and I almost cried when he spoke those magic words to me.

“I need your help.”

I hadn’t seen him in years, not since I wanted to take fashion seriously. We’d parted amicably but I still felt tension whenever I thought about him and what he could possibly be doing. Now, as I waited for him that crowded little cafe, I couldn’t even begin to imagine what he had in store for me.

“Can I take your order?”

The waiter approached just as my phone chimed with a message. “I’m still waiting for my friend to show up. I will take some more water though.”

“Just a friend?” The waiter’s voice took on a much more sultry tone. “Is that all they are?”

I looked up from my phone and into those striking yellow eyes. He was dressed in a waiter’s uniform and holding a tray in his hand. He swept the tray down to me, presenting me with a bouquet of flowers.

“It’s been a while, my little jewel,” he said. “I’m glad to see you’ve grown your hair out. It suits you.”

I was still in awe of his talent in presentation. I took the bouquet with a big grin and watched as he took a seat before me. “You haven’t changed at all, Mancini.” Which was, shockingly true. I’d know Mancini for ages, and all the time I had known him he had dyed himself a spectacular shade of pink. As a panther Raksahsa being born with albinism, he felt if he was going to stand out, then he really wanted to stand out.

Mancini smirked and leaned forward on the table with his elbows. “I wanted you to recognize me after all these years. So tell me, how are you?”

“I’ve been better.” I’ve forced it out rather than lying and saying ‘fine’. Mancini would have known I was lying and pressed further anyways.

His brow pinched. “What’s wrong. I thought you sounded strange on the phone.”

I had left him long ago in order to pursue a career I no longer had. Confessing this felt like an utter failure.

“Did someone assume your named was pronounced ‘bitch’ again?”

I shook my head. “No, no, that’s something I can get over. It’s that I uhm...I quit my job last week.”

His eyes widened. “You’re joking.”

“I wish I was.” I laid the bouquet down on the table. “It’s kind of hard to explain.”

“Let me guess.” Mancini opened up his top which removed the waiter uniform to a stunning green velvet blazer. “An old paramour stole your ideas, and now your former fashion house is claiming the two of you are still together and you’re selling their designs to her?”

My jaw hung open.

Mancini smirked proudly and gave me a wink. “How did I do?”

“You got it!” I gasped.

He chuckled and flicked the gold hoop in his ear. “I thought as much. So, how about we go back to your place and finish catching up?”

You furrowed your brow. “Then why did you have me come here?”

“So I could fill your apartment with gifts.” he stood up and offered his hand out to me. “I had to surprise you after all this time.”

I felt near tears as I took his hand. It had been so long, and I had denied how much I missed him. As soon as I stood, Mancini wrapped me in a firm embrace. “I’m glad we’re no longer strangers, my little gemstone.”

I took in a deep breath, smelling that same old cologne and I felt at home. “Me too.”

Back home, I found much of my old furniture had been replaced, and yet, everything was how I left it. “There we go!” Mancini took a seat on the new sofa. “I thought you deserve an upgrade.”

I frowned as I hung up my coat. “You didn’t need to do that. And how long have you been watching me?”

Mancini grinned and patted the seat beside him. “Come sit, I’ll regale you with tales of all my heroic antics.”

“Antics maybe.” I sat beside him and was very pleased with the comfort of the new sofa. “But heroic might be a stretch.”

“Bich Ngoc, how dare you?” You chuckled. He placed an arm on the back of the sofa and leaned in close to me. “You do not think of me as your Robin Hood anymore?”

I smirked back. “I never thought of you as Robin Hood. You’re a Selina Kyle, a Carmen sandiego, but a Robin Hood you are not.”

Mancini pouted but kept getting closer. “You always kept me in line. I need that again.” His hand rested upon my knee.

I cast my eyes upon that hand, watching it pushing against the fabric of my skirt. “All you have to do is ask me, why are you dancing around so much?”

“Because that’s not fun.” His hand stopped for a moment. “I would like you help coming up with some disguises, some costumes, maybe even a faux line of clothing.”

I clicked my tongue. “What’s all this for?”

“The same little rat bastard who stole your ideas and got you exiled has something I’ve got my eye on.” His hand continued trailing up my thigh. “When I started researching her I realized the two of you had a little bit of a past, and quite a present I might add.”

“You knew Ving stole my ideas?”

“She has an old sketchbook of yours.” Mancini’s hand was no under my skirt and on my thigh. “She also had some old pictures of you.”

I grimaced at that thought.

“You never gave me pictures.” His hand gripped my thigh and my breath was taken. “So I had to keep them.”

“You stole pictures?” I scoffed.

Mancini was close enough that he could lick my lips and he pressed his face against my neck, moaning and kissing as his hand slid about my thigh. I pressed my hand against his chest, but adjusted my hair so it didn’t get into my mouth.

“She didn’t deserve them,” he growled against my shoulder. “But I do find it funny she kept such things.”

I moaned as his hand slid between both thighs. “And why would you want to keep them?”

“Because I never stopped wanting.” He pressed a kiss to my lips and I did have to push him back. I plucked his hand from between my thighs and stood up.

“I need a drink. Do you want anything?” I huffed and smoothed down my skirt.

Mancini’s face took on a horrible pout. “There’s champagne chilling in the kitchen. I was going to serve you that after we reunited successfully.”

I saw the spread in the kitchen which included fancy cupcakes and  tarts, various sugary confections Mancini loved more than anything. I plucked the champagne from the ice and looked it over.

“And what does that mean?” I asked.

Mancini appeared in the kitchen doorway. “Mean I intended to eat that beautiful pussy of yours until you fainted and then needed champagne to regain yourself.” He snatched the bottle from my hands. “Maybe you would have even tasted me a little as well,” he purred.

I sighed and let a smile shine through. “What are you trying to steal from Ving?”

“Oh, you’re no fun!” He chucked the campagne back into the ice bucket. “She’s been given this necklace for her newest show. It’s a fancy little dangly thing called the Jaguar’s Kiss.”

My brow pinched. “We’ve been trying to get that for every show we’ve had since I started working at Palais. How did she get it?”

“She did a few things in order to get it. Mostly bribe money, not to mention the lady who owns it will be starring in her show, wearing it mind you.”

“That old buzzard?” I scoffed.

“Now, now, little gemstone, it’s not nice of you to judge one’s appearance.” Mancini put an arm around me and pulled me in close. “No matter how old they are.”

“She’s an awful person, she dug up a graveyard to-”

“Yes, yes, I know.” Mancini let me go and went for one of the sweets on the counter. “Ving is taking offers on bringing in news designers. Which is why I need you. Plus, adding revenge to the scheme makes it so much more fun.”

I sighed and fidgeted with my hair. “Is that why you’re asking me back?”

Mancini held up a finger while he bit into a cupcake. “I’m asking you back because I miss you. Plus, she fucked you over. It’s not your revenge I am talking about, it’s my own.”

“You’re revenge?”

He nodded, licking icing from his lips. “I have my reasons.” He then smirked and dove in, stealing another kiss. “Come back, Bich, and I promise that you will not forget it.”

I smoothed my hand down his chest, tasting caramel icing on my lips. “I don’t have anything else going on.”

“Wonderful!” Mancini took the champagne back and popped the cork, sending a spray of foam everywhere. “Then we shall celebrate after all!”

I began working right away, designing several disguises for Mancini as well as working on creating a fashion line for his ruse. He helped me with some designs so they did not look like all my other works.

I was measuring him one day, noticing the scars along his chest from his top surgery. It made me think back to when he first had it done and I had taken care of him while he healed. He had been such a whiny baby.

“I’ve been working out,” Mancini teased.

I rolled my eyes. “That’s not what I am doing right now.”

Mancini flexed his arms and back while I tried to take shoulder measurements. “Do you like what you see though?”

“How old are you again?”

He chuckled jovially and rubbed his jaw. “I think I look much better than when we were last together.”

“You look like you always did to me,” I huffed as I attempted a shoulder measurement again. “But yes, you’re much more handsome and rakish than ever before.” I fed into his ego if only to get him to stand still.

“Have you seen my butt yet?”

I pinched his ear and brought him down to my level. “Yes, you're a tall, sculpted Adonis. Now stand the heck still!”

He stood up as soon as I released him and he rubbed his ear. “You don’t have to be mean about it.”

“I’m trying to get this all done in time. I can admire whatever you want when I don’t have so much to do.” I slipped my arms around his waist to get a measurement there.

“That tickles,” he giggled.

I smiled to myself. “Well that’s not changed.”

“Are you at least happy to see me?” He murmured.

“What brings this on?” I wrote down his measurements for later.

Mancini turned around. “Are you?” He looked at me with golden kitten eyes and I melted a little.

I sighed and set my things aside. “Of course I am.”

“Working in fashion has made you too serious. You were never Miranda Priestly.” Mancini reached out, tucking my hair behind my ear then smoothing his fingers along my jaw in a very seductive manner. “What happened?”

“Just that,” I huffed. “I worked in fashion for years. I’ve had to take things seriously to get where I am...was-”

Mancini put his hands upon my shoulders. “Then let me devour you until you violently quiver with an orgsam.”

I grumbled under my breath. “Stop that!”

“Oh fine!” He huffed. “But that offer always stands.”

I went to work right away making the garments. I started with Mancini’s disguises so he could go ahead and begin wooing Ving. Ving enjoyed anyone attractive, so I knew she’d love Mancini right away. Back when I first started designing, she had taken me under her wing and we began an affair while I tried breaking into the fashion scene. She was extremely charming, but she could be vicious too. She was a hunter in every sense of the word, and sending Mancini out to her made me a touch nervous.

After his first few visits with her, he was feeling jubilant in his scheme. Bit by bit he was working into her trust, and hopefully, he would earn a spot on her team so he could get closer to the Jaguar’s Kiss.

“She’s very handsy,” Mancini said. “You didn’t tell me that.”

“It’s what she does.” I was bent over my sewing machine, piecing a cocktail dress together.

“She wanted us to go skinny dip in her pool, then she kept offering me massages-”

I accidentally pushed a bit too hard on the fabric and placed a stitch crooked and bunched. Mancini looked at me as I pulled it out to inspect it.

“I didn’t accept either offer, of course.”

I frowned as I took out my seam ripper.

Mancini leaned over me. “I don’t like her that way.”

“Good!” I huffed. The seam ripper jabbed into my hand and I ripped it back, bringing the puncture wound to my lips and I tasted blood.

“Give it here.” Mancini took my hand, kissing it softly. “I only have one person’s touch on my mind.” He made me stand up and go to the kitchen where he washed the wound. He then placed a bandage upon it and kissed it again.

“You need a break. You’ve been on that machine for days now.” He swept me off my feet, literally knocking them out from under me and picking me up in his arms. “I won’t hera another word.”

“Wait, not now!” I grouched as he carried me to my bedroom. “Mancini, I’m busy-”

“Working for me.” he took off my shoes and tugged at my leggings. “And as your boss, I am telling you to stop right this instant.” He yanked my leggings off and smiled at this minor triumph.

I scoffed and placed a pillow over my face. “What are you doing now?”

“Making you relax.” His hands kneaded into my feet. “How’s this?”

“Fine,” I grumbled.

Mancini continued rubbing my feet. Moving his hands up to my calves. “She’s really not my type at all. I have no interest in her.”

“What?” I grumbled.

“I was just letting you know I don’t like Ving. Since you seemed jealous.”

I tossed the pillow aside and sat up. “What makes you think I’m jealous?”

Mancini smirked at me and I realized he’d gotten exactly what he wanted. He let go of my leg and leaned in close to me. I turned my head to escape his kiss, but his lips fell upon my neck, which was what he wanted.

“I meant it when I said I never stopped wanting you, Bich,” he moaned against my skin. “No one ever compared to my little gemstone.”

I grabbed his shoulder as he bared down upon me. “Mancini-” I whimpered.

“Let me show you how much I still care for you.” he kissed my lips softly, easing me back down onto the bed. “I promise, I’m even better than I was.”

I sighed and lifted my hips, taking off my panties for him. “Alright, but just this once.”

Mancini grinned eagerly, stripping off his clothes so he was just as naked as I was. He pushed up my shirt and sports bra, kissing my small breasts and then down my chest. I closed my eyes, turning my head aside as he went further down.

His strong hands pushed open my sighs and he moaned loudly. “Hello old friend.” His fingers pressed against my mound. “My god, you’re still as beautiful as I dreamed.”

“Stop talking to it!” I pouted.

“You used to like when I talked to her.” His fingers opened me and he lost his breath. “You’re fucking stunning.” That warm, rough tongue lapped against me and I lost my breath. He kissed and moaned, taking his time with me.

“Look how wet you are, my darling.” His tongue pressed inside and I clamped my hand over my mouth to keep from squealing. “You taste amazing.”

“Sh-shut up.” I was having a hard time keeping up the facade.

Mancini purred against me. “I’ve been dripping this entire time. Want to see?” Mancini rose to his knees and popped out his hips. He opened himself for me, showing me his clit and dripping lips. I sat up, bringing him down to kiss him while pressing my fingers inside. He moaned against my lips, licking them sloppily as my fingers rocked inside him.

“Do you finally like what you see?” he chuckled as I threw him down onto the bed.

I placed myself over his head then leaned down towards his mound. His hands wrapped tightly around my hips, pulling me down onto his mouth.

I licked his throbbing clit and his hips bucked so he pressed hard against my tongue. I slid my fingers back inside him as his tongue and lips  kissed me again. He was so wet and warm, and I hadn’t been this excited in so long regarding sex. Actually, I can’t even rememebr the last time I had sex.

I started trembling from Mancini’s affections. His lips suckled around my clit as if he was trying to drain a very thick milkshake. I tried to keep my own efforts directed, but Mancini stole my breath. I gasped and shuddered, almost kicking as the liquid heat bubbled inside me. I cried out against Mancini’s thigh and he rolled me off onto the bed. He laid over top of me, grinding himself against my knee as he kissed me. He guided my weak little hand to touch, continuing to grind and kiss me until I felt a pulse against my palm. Wetness dribbled down my thigh and his body sagged until he laid back next to me.

“Sorry,” I murmured.

Mancini grinned as he put his arms around me. “For what?”

“I should have kept going. I sort of went limp noodle.”

He kissed my cheek and neck over and over. “I wasn’t expecting you to join in. I just wanted to help you relax. I also wanted to remind you of how much I adore you.”

I rolled over in his arms to look into those golden eyes. “It’s been years though-”

“I know, but I always knew I’d hold you again.” His arms tightened so I pressed into his chest. I bowed my head into his shoulder and breathed deep that faint scent of cologne. “You and I were always meant to be, Bich.”

I wanted to hold onto him as tight as I possibly could, but my arms weren’t strong enough. “Your head was always so full of such silly notions.”

Mancini chuckled, kissing the top of my head. “Not so silly from where I’m laying. You’re back in my most favorite place in the world. And together, we’re going to take the Jaguar’s Kiss for our own, and we’ll travel the world, side by side. I won’t let you go this time. Not unless you have a very good reason.”

My heart fluttered and I kissed him. “Once I catch my breath, I have a toy I think you’ll enjoy.”

He purred very loudly. “Let me fetch the champagne!”

[otteradmirer]

You had just come out as a man a month ago. Started T too.

Looking in the mirror though everything still seemed “wrong” . Your binder held down your tits but your hips flared out and your thighs touched. Your bubble butt was too much of a bubble. Something needed to drastically change.

You were very nervous about your plan. This plan could potentially back fire majorly. He even explained that to you. At first, gaining weight could accentuate your feminine features. However as you took testosterone, the fat would redistribute into a more manly physique.

“Well not manly in the traditional sense,” your date told you, “not even manly in the way a bear looks. Manly as in becoming a fucking whale.”

The first month of your and your feeder dating was something else. You’ve never experienced anything like this before. Sure he was sweet and would take you out and show you off as his boyfriend, but most boyfriends don’t shovel over 10k calories a day into their lovers. He was right about looking more feminine as the weight came on. Your tits became swollen and your hips flared out even more. Your thighs wobbled as they moved. Your face became rounder, with a double chin joining in. You still had days like this but something about your feeder made you forget them. Maybe it was how he pounded your ass every time you met, how he grabbed at the new fat, and how he lovingly fed you like a prized pig.

3 months and 50 pounds in you did begin to look manlier. You noticed this as your feeder lover began to play with your gut in front of the mirror. Your gut eclipsed your fat ass and thighs an little. It was so soft. Everything about you is now. Your chin is growing a third, your beard accents your fat face. You’ve asked your lover to increase your meals. Your T-dick stands at attention every time you eat now. You’ve even face timed him to show off how you can still reach under your gut and get off with one hand while the other funnels ice cream down your throat. You love how the extra fat feels as it encroaches into your clothes, as it bursts buttons, and especially as it weighs you down. From how your feeder fucks you, you know he feels the same.

It’s been 6 months and 150 pounds gained. The number is astonishing but it makes sense considering that you and your lover have been fucking like rabbits and you have been eating like a bear going into hibernation. Your lover is making you eat an entire cake while he fucks you and makes you watch in the mirror. Your ass is enormous. It wobbles and shakes with each thrust, in time with your massive and hairy sagging tits. Your thighs are covered in hair and look like they’re made of cottage cheese. Your belly hits the floor now, developing multiple rolls. Your fat face has grown a third chin. It’s covered in cake and cum. Your new facial hair catches it well.

A year in and you’re no longer a piggy, but a hog. You asked your feeder to shave your head. He gladly obliged, your baldness shows off how fat your face has gotten perfectly. It also helps that at every moment you’re awake, your eating something. You truly haven’t stopped eating unless you’re sleeping since the 6 month mark. Your moobs hang to the side of your monstrous belly, showing off how hairy you have gotten. However you can no longer see the happy trail that starts at your deep bellybutton. Looking in the mirror, you grab your fat pad and shake it. Your lover loves to fuck it and rub his cock on yours. Your thighs compete with each other for space even when standing. You can still walk but it’s a pronounced waddle. Your ass has gotten fatter but it balances out your physique; without it your gargantuan gut would put too much strain on your back. Your feeder was right: you do look manly, but not in the way bears look.

You look like an overfed, well fucked, slob.