#VISIBLY GLUM????

[cheoliehansolie]

Flowers (Valentine's Day Special)

Summary: It's your first Valentine's Day with your boyfriend Wonwoo and he wants to make sure it's the best Valentine's Day ever.

an: Hey everyone! This is my first time writing something like this so please let me know what you think and I hope you enjoy it! Sorry in advance if there are any mistakes, I may have missed some.

wc: ~2.6 k

Y/N’s point of view - T minus 3 days 'till Valentine’s Day

You just got home from a long day of classes. As you tug your shoes off in the entryway of the apartment you share with your boyfriend Wonwoo, all you can think about is changing out of your stuffy clothes into one of your boyfriend’s hoodies and laying on the couch until he gets home. As you make your way further into the apartment, throwing your bag onto the floor you let out a huff of frustration when you hear your phone ring. I guess my plans of relaxing are gonna have to wait, you think to yourself as you pull your phone out of your pocket.

“Hey sis.” you say once the video call connects.

“Hey! What’s up with the glum face? Rough day?” your older sister asks, her concerned face staring back at you through your screen.

“Is it that obvious?” you ask as you flop onto the couch.

“I’m your older sister, I can tell when something’s bothering you. Now spill. Do I have to punch someone?”

“Calm down, it’s not that big of a deal. I just got home from being on campus all day and I had a really long day. The group project I’m working on for my business class is taking longer than I thought it would and no one wants to step up and get the work done so it’s been like pulling teeth getting my group members to get stuff done.” you complain. “Anyways, that’s enough about my day, why’d you call?”

Your sister visibly perks and she can’t hide her excitement. “I actually called because your sweet brother-in-law just told me what he’s planning for Valentine's Day coming up.”

“I thought normally he keeps it a surprise?”

“He does, and it still kind of is. All he told me that he’s taking me on a trip somewhere tropical and warm for the whole week of Valentine’s Day.”

“OMG, really!” you exclaim. “I can’t believe he planned something so sweet for you!”

“Hey, he can be sweet when he wants to.” your sister pouts.

“Yeah, yeah, I know. When are you leaving?”

“He said we leave tomorrow, but he hasn’t told me anything else besides packing for tropical weather.”

“Wow, that sounds so romantic.”

You’re so focused on your conversation with your sister that you don’t even hear Wonwoo open the door to your shared apartment. He’s about to announce his presence when he hears your older sister ask, “So, has Wonwoo dropped any hints about any Valentine’s Day plans yet?” in a teasing tone as she wiggles her eyebrows at you. He stops with his mouth still open as he waits and listens to see what you’ll say.

“Not yet, but it’s honestly fine if we don’t do anything big and fancy. We’re both broke college students and I doubt he has time to plan a big lavish thing with his busy class schedule while taking up extra shifts at the bookstore.”

“Yeah, I get that, but don’t you have anything you want? I get that you don’t want to be a burden, even though we all know that Wonwoo sees you as the most precious person in the world, but if he were to get you anything, what do you want him to get you?”

“Hmm,” you hum to yourself as you think while Wonwoo stands at the entryway waiting patiently to see what you have to say. “You know what would be romantic? A bouquet of flowers.”

“That’s it?” your sister asks, appalled in your simple answer. “You’re so high maintenance that I thought you would say something like a necklace or something. Plus, flowers don’t last forever and this is your first Valentine’s Day together. Don’t you want something that you can remember the day by?”

Wonwoo, still glued to his position at the entryway, mentally asks you the same question. He knows you aren’t super materialistic and rarely ever take gifts from him not wanting him to waste his money on you (even though Wonwoo sees it as anything but a waste of money), but he thought that at least while talking to your sister you would say something special like jewelry. He’d been taking extra shifts at the bookstore to be able to buy you something to remember the day by.

“Yeah, I get that it’s simple, but I’ve never gotten flowers from anyone before.” you explain. 

“I guess, but all you want is flowers? Nothing else?” your sister prods on.

“Well, I guess there’s something else.” Wonwoo’s ears perk as he makes a mental note to find the best flowers he can get you. You didn’t tell him that you’ve never gotten flowers before and if he had known earlier he definitely would’ve gotten them for you sooner.

“What is it?” your sister asks.

“We’ve both been really busy lately with work and school that we don’t really have a lot of time to see each other and spend quality time together. Going out for dinner or spending a night at home watching movies or playing games would be so much fun. I don’t even remember the last time we got to spend time together like that when we weren't exhausted.”

“That sounds really sweet, I hope Wonwoo will plan something like that for you.” 

“Me too. Sis, I have to go, I still have so much work to do and I need to get Jihoon to focus on getting our project done as much as he focuses on making his music. I’ll call you later and have fun on your mystery vacation!”

“Bye y/n. Don’t stress too much about your project. If Jihoon doesn’t do his part, give me his number and I’ll give him a stern talking to.”

“Okay mom,” you joke as you wave and hang up on your sister.

Wonwoo sees this as the best time to make his presence known as he jiggles his keys loudly in the keyhole and acts like he’s stepping through the door for the first time today. You look up from your phone and smile.

“Hey y/n.” Wonwoo greets as he takes his shoes off and makes his way over to you. “What’re you up to?” he asks as he plants a quick kiss to your cheek.

“Hey Wonwoo. Not much, I just got off the phone with my sister.”

“Oh really, what’d you talk about?”

“Nothing much, she just called to tell me that my brother-in-law’s taking her on a trip to the tropics for Valentine’s Day.” you explain as you get up to make your way to your shared room to finally change into something comfier. 

Wonwoo trails behind, listening to you continue to ramble about your day as he begins to mentally plan how to make this the best Valentine’s Day ever.

-----------

Wonwoo’s point of view - T minus 2 days 'till Valentine’s Day

The next day, all Wonwoo can think about is what kind of flowers to get you and what else he can do to make Valentine’s Day as special as possible. You hadn’t said anything about what kind of flowers you like when you were on call with your sister, and he couldn’t exactly ask you now because that would just give away his entire plan. He’s so engrossed in looking at pictures of bouquets on different florist websites that he doesn’t even notice when the professor ends class and everyone starts packing up their things. 

“Hey, you coming?” Soonyoung asks him as he stands in the aisle staring at Wonwoo.

“Yeah, you’re blocking the exit and I can’t get out.” Mingyu whines as he impatiently taps his foot. “What’re you even looking at?” Mingyu asks as he leans down to steal a glance at Wonwoo’s laptop screen.

“It’s nothing.” Wonwoo replies nonchalantly as he tries to close his laptop before Mingyu can see, but to no avail.

“Really? Because it looks like someone’s looking for flowers to buy for a special someone named y/n for a special day coming up.” Mingyu teases as Wonwoo’s ears turn red. This is exactly why he didn’t want his friends to see what he was up to. I guess the cat’s out of the bag now. Wonwoo thinks as he packs up his things.

“Wow, I didn’t know Wonwoo was so whipped. Look at his ears, Gyu, he’s shyyy.” Soonyoung teases as Mingyu and him burst into giggles.

“Yeah, I was looking for flowers for my girlfriend, is that a crime?” Wonwoo asks.

“No it’s not, but it’s fun to make fun of you.” Soonyoung responds as the trio makes their way out of the lecture hall to grab a bite to eat at the dining hall.

“Besides, aren’t flowers a really basic gift? Where’s the heart? Where’s the romance? Where’s the uniqueness?” Mingyu asks as they step out into the cold.

“Yeah!” Soonyoung agrees loudly. “I thought you’re obsessed with her? I thought you would get her a bracelet or something. Oh, oh, oh! Or you could get her a necklace with a W on it like Troy gave Gabriella at the beginning of High School Musical 2! That scene made my heart flutter.”

“Well, Soonyoung, I’m not trying to make your heart flutter, I’m trying to make y/n’s heart flutter. And you two can complain about flowers being the least romantic thing in the world, but I heard y/n on the phone with her sister yesterday when I got home. She asked y/n what she wants for Valentine’s Day and she said flowers because no one’s gotten her flowers before.” Wonwoo explains to his friends hoping that they’ll be satisfied with this answer and they’ll drop the subject.

“Aww, that’s so sweet.” Soonyoung coos.

“But, you’re not just getting her flowers, right? Are you planning anything else?” Mingyu asks as they finally enter the warmth of the dining hall.

“Well, I’m trying to plan what else we could do. When she was on the phone, y/n said she wanted to do something where we could really spend time together because we’ve both been so busy recently.”

“Wow, she really gave you a step by step guide of what she wants.” Soonyoung admires.

“Well, she actually gave her sister a step by step guide. Wonwoo here was just lucky and was in the right place at the right time.” Mingyu corrects.

“I guess you could say that, but I still need to plan the details. She said she wanted flowers, but nothing about what kind of flowers and she didn’t even say what she wants to do together. All she said was that she wants to spend time together, but I don’t know what we could do together.” Wonwoo complains as they make their way over to grab their food.

“I would suggest you cook her a nice dinner, but that’s off the table since we all know you can’t cook to save your life.” Soonyoung says as they make their way to an empty table.

“It’s not like you’re any better Soonyoung.” Wonwoo teases back. “I’m sure I’ll figure something out, I want to make sure it’s something she actually enjoys.”

The conversation eventually shifts, but Wonwoo can’t stop thinking about what to do on Valentine’s Day.

-----------

Y/N’s point of view - Valentine’s Day

As you make your way back to your apartment after your classes, you can’t help but feel like there’s something off with Wonwoo recently. He’s been so engrossed in his thoughts that it’s like he’s on another planet sometimes. You wonder if he even remembers today's Valentine’s Day because he hasn’t brought it up at all. You decide not to get your hopes up as you walk out of the elevator. He’s busy so you understand if he completely forgot about it. Maybe you could get him to watch a movie with you tonight just to spend some time together.

“Wonwoo, I’m home!” you say as you walk through the door. 

You’re so focused on getting your shoes off that you don’t even notice the state of your apartment until you step farther into the apartment. When you finally look up, you see it. There are tea candles all around the kitchen island, red rose petals scattered around the island, little paper hearts stringed together to make a garland around the edge of the island, and standing there next to this beautiful display is Wonwoo in a cute burgundy polo sweater and jeans. In the middle of the island sits a bouquet of pink roses.

“Happy Valentine’s Day!” Wonwoo says as he makes his way towards you with a smile on his face. As he reaches down to take your bag from your hands, he notices the tears welling in your eyes.

“Y/n, are you okay? Why are you crying? Do you not like it?” Wonwoo asks, concern laced in his voice.

“No, I’m fine. I love it so much, Wonwoo. It’s so pretty. No one’s ever done anything so thoughtful for me.” you explain, blinking away your tears and Wonwoo visibly relaxes.

“I’m glad you like it, but that’s not all.”

“Really? You didn’t need to do anything else, this is already so much.”

“This is barely scratching the surface. Now close your eyes, I have another gift to give you.” 

“Wow so many surprises today, I must be the luckiest girl in the world.” you say as you close your eyes.

You hear Wonwoo pull something out of his pocket and a few seconds later you feel his hands gently lifting your hair away from your neck. You feel the cold metal of a necklace against your skin and shiver causing Wonwoo to chuckle. 

“You can open your eyes now.” Wonwoo says as he fixes your hair.

You look down at your neck and you see a beautiful gold chain with a cursive W pendant. You look up at him with shock as you say “Wow, Wonwoo this is beautiful.”

“Really? I wasn’t sure if you’d like it.” He says sheepishly as he rubs the back of his neck.

“I love it, it’s gorgeous.” You say as you go up on your tiptoes to plant a kiss to his lips. “It’s like we’re Troy and Gabriella from High School Musical.” you joke.

“That’s funny, that’s exactly what Soonyoung said.” Wonwoo laughs. “Well this isn’t all, I still have more planned.” 

“Jeon Wonwoo!” you gasp out, “How much more are you going to spoil me today?” 

“Definitely not as much as I want to, but it’ll have to do for now. You don’t even know what I have planned, you can’t be mad yet.”

“I guess so. Enlighten me then Wonwoo, what else do you have up your sleeve?”

“I ordered take out from your favorite restaurant so we could have a night in together. We’ve both been so busy these past few weeks with school and work that I thought it would be nice to eat together and catch up on what’s been going on.”

“Wonwoo, that’s so sweet, I can’t believe you planned all of this for me.” 

As you both work to unpack all of the food Wonwoo bought, you slip into comfortable conversation asking each other questions about your day. As you sit across from each other to begin eating your meal, you can’t help but think to yourself how lucky you are to have the sweetest boyfriend ever. As Wonwoo reaches over to put some food on your plate, you say “I love you.” as you stare lovingly into his eyes.

“Yeah? I love you too, y/n.” Wonwoo replies as he takes your hand in his and brings it up to his lips to place a chaste kiss on your hand.

Yeah, you’re definitely the luckiest girl in the world.

-----------

an: Thanks for reading and I hope you liked it! If you did be sure to like and reblog. This is my first time writing fanfic so please leave a comment letting me know if you liked it and if I should change anything for the next one 💕

#seventeen #svt #wonwoo #jeon wonwoo #seventeen x reader #svt x reader #wonwoo x reader #jeon wonwoo x reader #svt fluff #seventeen fluff #fluff #svt valentine's day #seventeen valentine's day

[lingrimmart]

Hey hey guys!

We are open for the halfbody sceneries!

4 slots are available. Basic price is 370$

1. Cae

2. Glum

3. GameGarou

4. Anguiculus

Examples:

Main features for the basic price:

- Blury extremely simple background (the first example);

- Waist up or tighs up composition;

- Clean line and render.

For additional price (discussed personally):

- If it’s not a classic halfbody and character’s legs are visible somehow (example: high angle or character is sitting with legs on a desk, etc) then it will be +15$;

- More detailed background (like on the third example — less abstract, more specific);

- Additional character +60%

We don’t draw:

- NSFW content (porn, extreme gore, etc)

Payment and contact:

- We prefer to talk in Discord! If this option is comfortable for you, then DM us to confirm that you are taking a slot and give us your Discord ID :> Otherwise we may discuss everything here on Tumblr in DM.

- We are taking full payment upfront right after we discussed all details of your commission. Once we got payment, we start to work.

- PayPal payment is okay (payment on our Boosty) ; we’ll give you detailed instructions how to use it.

Details of the process:

- You are free to make fixes on a sketch stage, before you will be fully satisfied with the commission.

- When we’ll start the line work, we don’t take any changes anymore.

- If the commission is finished and we forgot to draw some important part of you character, we’ll fix it immediately, since it’s our mistake!

#lingrimm commissions #kinda urgency #art #fantasy #anthro #commissions #tumblr commissions #artist on tumblr #digital artist

[raapija]

Need to know how you think Lance would respond to being mistaken for one of Fernando’s many kids-like would he be embarrassed or pissed-would Lando be like oh that’s my other dad 💀-I feel like they’d all love using it to mess with people 😭

Okay, this is hilarious, so I'll give you some fun scenarios of this happening...

Three short stories under the cut ! 💚

In 2018, Oscar was 17 and looking for his first own apartment in London. He had made plans to go view one flat and needed an adult to accompany him, so Lance agreed to go with him.

"Hello! I'm William, I'll be showing you the apartment." a chipper estate agent greeted them at a downstairs door to a small apartment building. They all shook hands and then made their way inside and up the stairs.

"This is a really nice flat. Everything is recently renovated and they also put in new kitchen equipment." the estate agent fumbled with a big bundle of keys as they stopped at one of the apartment doors. "Just a short walk to the nearest shops, the bus leaves right from the street down there and it's a really quiet building all in all."

The estate agent finally found the right key and opened the door for Lance and Oscar to step in. It was pretty; all new surfaces and a sparkling new oven and dishwasher. And no weird smells, it was all fresh.

"Looks good, right?" Lance asked after a little tour around the flat. They were all standing in a small living area attached to the kitchen. "Small, but not too small."

"Perfect for a young lad like you!" the estate agent pointed out and Oscar nodded along.

"It okay." Oscar said. "I think I'll need to ask dad or pops to come see it, too, though."

"Oh, you boys have two dads?" the estate agent chirped in. He looked at Lance and Oscar and then the two of them looked at each other.

"Uh, we're not brothers." Lance said and the man got a bit flustered.

"No?"

"He has two dads. I'm dating one of them." Lance explained. The estate agent blushed.

"Oh, I'm terribly sorry!" he hurried to apologize. Oscar had to turn away to hold in a laugh and Lance rubbed his eyebrow to do the same.

"No, it's okay. We get that a lot." Lance said to make the man feel less bad. "Anyway, we think we'll be in touch with you. Right, Osc?"

"Right." Oscar replied and the real estate agent handed them his card.

"Of course! I'd be happy to show this to you and your father again, if you'd like. Both of them! Or... You? Or... I'm sorry." he dug himself into a hole with that one.

"Yeah, thanks." Lance chuckled.

One night, Lance and Lando were at a gay bar in Montréal. Lando liked going to gay bars, because he didn't have to pay for any of his drinks the whole night. Everyone thought he was just adorable... And Lance was big enough that he could fight back any potential creeps.

They were sat at a booth, when a man approached them and sat down on the opposite side of their table.

"Hi, sweeties." the stranger said and Lance and Lando giggled.

"Hi." Lando said back and batted his eyes. Free drinks incoming.

"You two are really cute together." the man said and the pair erupted into laughter. The guy was a little taken aback. "What? You're not together?"

"No," Lance said between laughing. "I'm his step-dad."

The man leaned back, visibly confused. It didn't take him long to smirk again. "Oh? Kinky. I like it."

Lance and Lando glanced at each other, holding back another big rumble of laughter.

"Uh, no, we really are father and son." Lance continued. "I'm married to his dad."

"So, no fun for us tonight?" the man sounded glum.

"No, I'm afraid. And he's straight. Wait, are you straight?" Lance turned back to Lando, who was already giggling.

"I dunno." the younger man shrugged his shoulders. Lance laughed again, and the man was even more confused.

"You two are insane." he groaned and stood up. Lance and Lando waved him goodbye and kept on laughing, leaning into each other and probably looking absolutely unhinged with the state of blissful drunkenness they were in.

When Carlos and Charles were having their baby, Fernando and Lance rushed to the hospital and then to the receptionist to find out where they were. The woman working there looked at them a bit amused, because Fernando was fully freaking out and out of breath while Lance was calmly standing by his side.

"Sainz! And, uh, Leclerc! Un bebé! Uhm...I'm grand-dad!" Fernando blurted out, his English more broken than usual.

"Uh-huh... and him?" the receptionist pointed at Lance with a raised eyebrow.

"He's grand-dad. Also."

"Hi." Lance smiled and gave her a small wave. The receptionist looked back and forth between them, cogs turning in her head as she assessed the situation.

"Right..." she said and then turned to her computer to find where Carlos and Charles were. "Did you say Sainz?"

"Sí, uh... Yes. Carlos Sainz."

"And your name?"

"Fernando Alonso. Díaz! Alonso Díaz."

"And you?"

"Lance Stroll Díaz. S-T-R-O-L-L." Lance spelled out for her.

"Huh, you all have different last names?" she looked at Fernando a little confused.

"Yes." Fernando answered and she turned back to her computer, blowing out a breath of air as she typed all their names into the system. Fernando was struggling to stay in place, and Lance put a hand on his shoulder to calm him down.

"Okay..." the receptionist handed them a piece of paper. "I'll just need your signature here. They're in waiting room 21, just follow the yellow line on the floor and you'll find there."

"Gracias." Fernando said and hastily scribbled his name on the paper and then charged off. Lance chuckled after him and shook his head. He then carefully wrote his own name down, handing the paper back to the woman.

"Sorry. He's a bit extreme."

"Grandparents often are. Congratulations, by the way."

"Thank you."

#ask #short fic #pookie au #nando and his mcnuggets #strollonso #lance stroll #fernando alonso #oscar piastri #lando norris #carlos sainz jr. #charles leclerc #charlos #im tagging all of them SUE ME

[kendsleyauthor]

GODLIKE

Godlike Universe (Brielle, Cameron, Nikolas)

~2000 words

New characters?? 👀 Nikolas is a size-shifting deity--the Lord of Autumn (AKA Lord Taranis but he prefers his chosen human-like name). Brielle is an ex-princess, and Cameron is an ex-knight. How did these humans earn the favor and protection of the literal personification of autumn?? It's complicated.

But they're all in love teehee 😘

@marydublinauthor 🌸

Brielle hopped from root to root delicately while Cameron muscled down the urge to stay within catching distance, imagining her cry of pain if she slipped. Old habits died hard.

Flashes of the grand Autumn manor were visible in the distance as they trekked back toward the property. Although the Rite had occurred just that day, signs of spring were swiftly taking hold. The snow had melted a couple of weeks ago, and the harsh sting in the air had all but dissipated. Before long, the forest would be saturated with fresh color.

“Could we start dinner when we get back?” Brielle asked.

“Don’t be coy. You mean to ask if I will start dinner when we get back,” Cameron said.

“I’m starving!”

“You poor thing,” he crooned.

A dramatic exaggeration if there ever was one. Nikolas ensured they never went hungry. But although they were living in a far grander place than ever, they were dressed more simply. Cameron had little need for armor, choosing light tunics instead. Brielle’s boots were already worn from months of exploring the woods. The hem of her dress was speckled with dirt. Her leggings were comfortable for climbing places she ought not to.

Nerve-wracking as her decisions could be, Cameron had to admire how flushed with life she was these days.

“Wait.” He hurried to Briell’s side and put an arm out to stop her from striding to the next thick root. “Do you hear that?”

He swore he could hear wind, but the pine needles weren’t rustling. Squinting through the sparse foliage, Cameron caught a glimpse of fabric that lay across their path like a wall. All at once, he realized it wasn’t the wind he was hearing.

“Nikolas?” Brielle whispered. “Could he be hurt?”

“Doubtful.” Cameron seized Brielle’s hand and hurried her forward nonetheless.

The Lord of Autumn lay on his back, head turned to face them. His eyes were shut. One hand rested on his chest, while the other sat palm-up on the ground by his face. Late afternoon sunlight dappled through the branches overhead, spilling across his skin. His breathing was steady, chest rising and falling peacefully. The ground, though thawed, shouldn’t have been a comfortable place to nap, but he made it seem so.

Cameron relaxed when all appeared to be well. “I didn’t expect he’d be back already.”

“He must’ve fallen asleep waiting for us,” Brielle said, utterly endeared. “Do you think the ceremony went well?”

“As well as a gathering of childish deities can go, I suppose.”

“Shh!” Brielle glanced up at the branches. “You never know what could be listening.”

“It’s the day of the Rite,” Cameron said back in a mocking stage whisper. “They have more important things to do than listen in on us lowly mortals.” Nonetheless, his gaze briefly wandered in search of the odd snowy owl or rabbit.

Then his attention was inevitably drawn to Nikolas’ relaxed expression. Although Nikolas had nothing to do with the shift of winter to spring, he had still attended the Rite to hold council with his siblings. He had been glum the past few weeks, claiming that he was at his weakest during the spring, given that he was as far from his autumnal power as he could be.

And yet, he was still intimidating. At his full size, there was hardly anything else he could be.

Brielle almost shared the same sentiment. “He looks breathtaking in his sleep, doesn’t he?” she asked, still hushed like she couldn’t bear to wake something so precious.

“Godlike, one might say.” Cameron hummed thoughtfully. “Menacing, another might say. Alarming—”

She elbowed Cameron’s ribs. “Look at him! He’s so sweet.”

“If I recall,” Cameron said sourly, “you would fling acorns at my head and call me lazy when you caught me napping in the Queenswoods.”

Brielle grabbed an acorn from the ground and raised it threateningly. “You had barely lifted a sword on those days. Nikolas has every right to be exhausted after spending the day with his… charming relatives.” 

She tossed the acorn, which Cameron nimbly plucked out of the air. He thought she might grab another, but she lost interest in landing a hit. Instead, she turned back to Nikolas and began to approach his sleeping form. Cameron hurried to catch up, taking her arm. 

“You were just going on about how sweet he looks—why would you want to wake him?” Cameron asked.

Brielle gave him an impish smile that typically accompanied her worse ideas. “I don’t mean to wake him, silly. How often will this opportunity come around?”

“Opportunity?”

“To simply… admire him. Besides, even if he wakes, it’s not as though he’d be opposed to the attention.” She slipped her hand into Cameron’s and tugged him with her.

Protests bubbled up, but they never reached his lips. She was going to do what she wanted, so he may as well stay by her side to keep her from doing anything too foolish. Besides, he had to admit there was something enticing about exploring Nikolas up close without that intense stare following their every move. 

Naturally, they were drawn to his face first. His gentle breathing stirred the air like a faint autumn wind. Brielle reached out first, gingerly brushing a hand over the stubble along his cheek. Her fingers traced the edge of his top lip. She looked at Cameron, eyes sparkling. 

“So soft,” she whispered to him. “Feel.”

Cameron was perfectly familiar with Nikolas’ lips, but he reached out anyway. His heart stammered. Gods, it was just like Nikolas to be irresistible even in his sleep. 

There was a slight shudder in Nikolas’ breath, and the two of them pulled away swiftly to rid him of the disturbance. Brielle sidestepped and leaned up to push the hair out of his eyes. She pressed a kiss to his forehead, soothing him back into his deep slumber. To Cameron’s surprise, his breathing evened out again.

“He may not sleep for much longer,” Brielle said, stepping away from his face and toward the open-palmed hand behind her.

Cameron bit back a groan. “Meaning?”

She served him another grin. “I want to feel his heartbeat before he wakes. Come on.”

He dragged a hand down his face. “You’ll be the—”

“The death of you. I’m well aware.” She climbed onto Nikolas’ palm, throwing her arms out for balance. “Now, help a lady up?”

He had half a mind to leave her to it—to use a giant deity as her personal playground, and see where that got her. But he trudged toward her, grumbling. The moment he stepped aboard Nikolas’ hand, his heart gave another lurch. There was something to this little adventure, and he couldn’t keep it off his face. Brielle beamed at him like she could read his mind. 

Before proceeding, Cameron couldn’t help but kneel down to briefly run his hand over the palm that held them. How many times had he been held in this hand? And yet it felt like the first time all over again. He traced one of the lines, eliciting a small twitch in the fingers curled loosely beside him and Brielle. They needed to move on.

“I swear I can already feel his pulse,” Brielle said in wonderment as Cameron helped her onto Nikolas’ shoulder.

Together, they made their careful way to his chest. His shirt was soft, practically begging for them to curl up in its folds. The warm surface beneath them rose and fell at a steady pace as Nikolas continued to snooze, peacefully oblivious to their presence. When the two of them finally came to a stop, there was something almost meditative about his breathing. Cameron could feel his eyelids growing heavy.

“How beautiful,” Brielle said quietly, dropping down slowly to place a hand over Nikolas’ chest. “To think that someone like him has a heart beating right here. Just like we do.”

Cameron wasn’t sure whether to tease her or agree with her. He didn’t get a chance to decide—at that moment, Nikolas decided he had napped long enough. 

The world shifted, and Cameron found himself plunging downward. A cry caught in his throat, while Brielle, who was situated farther above him, screamed for help. Cameron, trying fruitlessly to take hold of the fabric of the shirt, looked up in time to see a massive hand swoop up and catch Brielle. 

Cameron’s descent came to a sudden pause when he landed on Nikolas’ lap—too close to the edge. He slipped, briefly catching hold of the inseam of his trousers before falling to the ground between his legs. 

“Should I ask what you two were doing?” Nikolas spoke around a yawn, sounding faintly amused. 

Before Cameron could orient himself, a hand descended and plucked him from the ground. He found himself reunited with Brielle, who was catching her breath in Nikolas’ other hand. His stare, though groggy, was quickly sharpening with alertness as he regarded the two mortals in his cupped hands. 

“Her idea,” Cameron said at once, sitting back against Nikolas’ fingers with a huff.

“No, really?” Nikolas raised his eyebrows, feigning shock. 

Brielle scoffed as though she had any right to be offended. But her expression quickly sweetened. “We wanted to be right here with you when you awoke,” she said. “How was the Rite?”

The brightness in Nikolas’ face dimmed somewhat. “Well, Aldwin is certainly pleased to be back in power. He created a whole field of wildflowers outside the sanctum. The show-off.”

Brielle swooned. “I remember I would peek out the window when Lord Aldwin passed by the castle on the first day of spring,” she said. “The trees and flowers flourished along his path—it was all very magical. I was so taken with him as a girl.”

Cameron laughed. “As a girl? You were doing this last year.”

She shrugged. “He’s dashing.”

“You wound me,” Nikolas said, looking thoroughly disappointed. The glint in his eye was unmistakable, though. “That settles it… Cam is my favorite now.”

Cameron wasted no time in beaming smugly at Brielle while she stammered indignantly. She moved to hands and knees, crawling closer to Nikolas’ face. “You said you didn’t have a favorite!” she exclaimed. 

“Well.” Nikolas leaned closer, those perfect lips pulling into a smirk. “If you’re allowed to have a favorite season…”

“I didn’t say spring was my favorite!” She threw her arms around Cameron suddenly and snuggled against him. “And besides, Cam can’t be your favorite because he was mine first!”

“Oh, Bri…” Cameron gave her an innocent look and leaned his forehead against hers. He tipped forward as if to kiss her, then stopped short. “But what if Nikolas is my favorite?”

Brielle shoved him back. “You two are insufferable!” She crossed her arms, pointedly turning away from them both as they chortled. 

“Come now, you can’t stay mad,” Nikolas said. He brought his hands closer to his face. “If I forgive you for fawning over my brother, can we agree there are no favorites?” He nudged her back with the tip of his nose.

She turned to face him, still pretending to pout. Nikolas moved swiftly, brushing his lips against her cheek with tender grace. She clearly couldn’t continue her dramatics any longer; a smile spread across her face, which only grew wider as Cameron kissed her other cheek. Before long, she was squirming and giggling, telling them that’s enough.

Giving them both a look of overwhelming affection, Nikolas brushed his lips one last time over the pair of them before settling back down on the ground. 

“I could use five more minutes,” he said with a yawn, depositing them back onto his chest. 

“Not a minute more,” Cameron said, pulling Brielle into his arms and lying down with her. “She says she’s starving. If we don’t have dinner soon, she may resort to devouring me.”

A chuckle rumbled beneath them. “Lucky you.”

#gt #g/t #gt writing #g/t writing #gt community #g/t community #my writing #size difference #giant tiny #giant #tiny #gt fandom #g/t fandom #oc: nikolas #oc: brielle #oc: cameron #gt story #g/t story #godlike universe #godlike universe story

[nikolliver]

Princess or Prince, You are still Royalty

The show kept going like usual.

Script followed perfectly, none of the actors tripped at their feet, no buzzy noisy phones in the middle of the crowd.

Nothing was out of place. Except for one little detail that tormented their systems the entire performance.

In the middle of the children at the front seats, a glum purple bow remained still watching the show.

Something was wrong.

Karma was never that quiet.

“You look tired.” Geppetto asked while tapping Nana’s shoulder with a small frown.

“I’m always tired.” Nana mumbled.

“More tired than usual.” His frown grew.

The old lady sits at one of the chairs near the stage with a sigh. “Just my son failing at trying to change things for better.” She rubs her forehead. Geppetto sits at the chair on her left.

“What did he do this time?” Geppetto rolled his eyes, this is not the first time Nana was stressed by his own son. His glasses caught a small yellow spot near the bright stage playing with a plush of Moon. Their movements were reticent than usual. Karma lifted their head to stare up at Geppetto. The sparkle in their eyes were weak, they couldn’t hide it.

Geppetto tilted his head and Karma mimicked. As the lights of the stage slowly went dark, metal clicks and soft bells moved behind the curtain, a silhouette crawled to the backstage entrance. Karma’s eyes followed the dark figure while hopping slightly on their feet, hesitant.

“Hey!” Geppetto called, Karma turns in a flinch to Geppetto. “I’ll be here talking with your nana; You can play with Moon while we talk.” He speaks with a serene smile.

Karma’s expression shined with thrill. Their feet swift dragging themselves towards the backstage door almost tripping on the way.

Nana glances up at her grandchild with an exhausted smile as they ran.

Karma drifted at the hallway and found themselves starring to a dark path. The backstage was consumed by the dark, the cutout settings and props were barely visible for Karma. All they could recognize in the dark was a hanger, some makeup chairs… A dim blue-Ish smoke in the air.

A tall ominous figure lurked at the dark right in front of the hallway Karma was. The bells hanged on its body and hat jiggled with its movements as it stood on its feet, dim white lights from its eyes as it turned to glance down at Karma, its arms glowing a dim weak blue. His faceplate spins once, twice. His hat didn’t fall from his head somehow, as always, the bell on his hat jiggling with the spinning. The static grin on his face was merely visible by the reflection of his eyes in the dark.

He was just shrimping there… menacingly.

Karma lets out a snicker, causing Moon’s posture to perk up. He lurks in the dark sideways, luring as a trail of blue smoke follows his hand as he walks. Soft snickers crackling from his voice box. The child hops towards the backstage following the blue smoke trail which emanated a dim glow in the dark for them to follow. The sounds of metal clicks in the dark mixed with the sound of the jiggling bells helped the child with their locomotion in the dark.

Moon was hanged in his wire, “swimming” around and pushing makeup chairs here and there. Karma just watched the trail of smoke from Moon’s hand as he swings himself smoothly in the air. The lunar animatronic sets up a small sun-themed makeup mirror on the small table, right next to a makeup kit stage-themed and S.T.A.F.F bots stands with accessories, the lights were dim enough for Karma to see their reflection and for Moon to stay near it. He pushes a small chair towards Karma with bright purple glowing from his arms and cheeks LEDs lights. Karma ‘fancily’ sits on the chair and makes a pose with a smug, placing the Moon plush on their lap. Moon chuckles as he pushes the chair to the makeup set up. He adjusts the chair to the size of the table and swings away to the darkness.

Moon returns on a chair, stomach on the seat with legs above his head, mimicking a ‘swimming’ motion with his arms while spinning around Karma. Both the child and the animatronic chuckle in pure cheer. He extends his hand towards Karma’s plush of himself, which the child handles it for him. Moon smoothly pushes himself next to the mirror on the table, he sits the plush next to it and opens the makeup kit, theatrically presenting all the options for Karma. Lipsticks, blushes, eyeliners, a phenomenal treasure for theater kids.

Both of them exchange glances as they rub their hands like little giggling menaces, Moon wiggling his feet on the air. Karma analyzes the makeup kit, tilting their head and raising an eyebrow.

“Purple, please!” The child points at the purple blush. Moon nods, he snaps his fingers with a blue smoke and a brush falls on his hand. With his other hand, the animatronic presses a metallic finger against Karma’s bow on their head, gently lifting their head slightly upwards. He taps the brush on the blush color that Karma had chosen and carefully passes the brush against Karma’s right cheek. The child giggles. “It tickles…!” They chirp. Moon snickers as he spins his faceplate.

As he keeps brushing Karma’s face, his movements get slower as he brings the brush to the blush kit. He stares at the brush for a long second and then side-eyes Karma. The child shows a poker face… And sticks their tongue out. His head twitches to the side once, twice. His LED’s turning into his debut blue.

“You’re upset.” Moon intoned.

Karma blinks at Moon’s words. They look at their surroundings consumed by the dark and then back to Moon. “…I’m not.” Karma replied. “I’m fine, Moon!” They completed.

The answer they got from Moon was a still glare, tapping Karma’s bow slightly, his feet brought to the wire on his back, his expression was its usual static grin, but Karma could tell that Moon was narrowing his eyes at them.

“Tiny, tiny…” Moon muttered.

Karma side-eyes to their sides. “… Yes Moonman?”

“Feeling down?”

“No Moonman…”

“Telling lies?”

“No Moonman!”

“Gimme your nose.” Moon reaches a finger towards Karma’s face.

“No!” Karma squeaks, pushing Moon’s hand away.

“Gimme, gimme, gimme.” The lunatic wiggles his fingers up and down as he giggles.

Karma chuckles as they push Moon’s hand. “No! You already have a nose!”

“I’m making a collection.” Moon brushes the brush on Karma’s face, causing squeaky chuckles from the tickles.

They keep with the tickles and giggles until Karma slaps the brush from Moon’s hand. “Moon!” Karma hissed. Moon flinches with the chair away, pulling his feet to his shoulders, he freezes and pulls his hands back from them as his LEDs turn into bright white. An annoyed pout on Karma’s lips turns to a mournful face. “…Sorry.” They turn their head to the side.

Moon stood still for a moment as his lights slowly change to his usual blue, he looked at the brush on the floor and back to Karma. He stretches his arm to pick up the brush and places it on the table. He stares at the sad child for a second and takes the Moon plush from the table. The lunar one brings the plush closer to the child. “… talk?” He whispered.

Karma turned their head to see the plush slightly tilted to the side. They look at Moon, his whole arm was stretched holding the plush.

…Karma takes the plush to their hands. “Okay.” They nod at Moon.

Moon spins his legs, contorting himself on the chair, in a blink of an eye, he’s now sitting upright, clicking with excitement. For any human to do this without breaking a single part from their body is almost impossible to imagine, yet such a casual habit for this lunatic animatronic. He shrimps as he pushes himself with the chair near Karma, pulling another type of brush from the makeup kit. “Eyeshadow?” Moon tilts his head to the side.

Karma nods with a soft smile. “Yellow, please!”

Moon spins his faceplate and taps the brush on the eyeshadow color. He gently pushes Karma’s forehead upwards. “Close your eyes.” The moon whispers softly. The child obeys and close their eyelids, snickering as the brush slides softly against their face. “And tell the Moonman what happened.”

Karma peeks for a second, but Moon pokes their nose slightly indicating for them to not open their eyes as he passes the eyeshadow. “So, uh…” The child jiggles the plush hat. “My dad is trying to give me a new mom.”

Moon freezes as he takes the brush away from their face. Long seconds of silence and Karma peeks opening one eye to see a looming lunar animatronic with dead fish eyes staring at the void. His LEDs merge from purple to red. “… Moon?” The child calls. His faceplate ticks and tocks, spinning slowly like a clock. His LEDs returns to blue as his eyes turn down to Karma as his faceplate turns upside down, so he might be looking upwards?... The sounds of the bell on his hat as he corrects his faceplate distract the child from the thoughts.

“… Apologies.” Moon sighed. “Sun just had a seizure in here.”

“Pfft-” Karma covers their mouth with the plush.

Moon wiggles the brush close to Karma’s face and they close their eyelids.

“New mom…” Moon mumbles. “Did he find any?” He tilts his head.

“This is the third woman that dumps on him.”

Moon snickers as his LEDs turn into a brighter blue, the brush flinched slightly on his hand. Karma chirps with the tickling brush on their face. “Have you liked any?” Moon presses their forehead.

The child remains thoughtful for a moment. “…Not really.” Moon pulls the brush away and Karma opens their eyes.

“Were any of them naughty?” Moon tilts his head to the sides, analyzing his work.

“I think...?” Karma cuts their shrug with a blink. “Wait, no. Only two of them were evil.”

Moon hums as he pulls the S.T.A.F.F bots stands with the accessories nearby. His LEDs turning into darker blue. “What had them done?” He spins the bots slowly for Karma to analyze the accessories.

“The first one dumped on my dad after she found a weird magazine about woman that my dad had hidden under his side of the mattress.” Karma points at a green hairclip. “That one.”

Moon freezes, LEDs turning into a green-Ish tone, only moving his hand to take the clip and side-eyes Karma. “Being sunny nosy?” An audible grin on his voice box.

Karma giggles. “Nana told me to keep an eye on my dad~” They hum as Moon carefully places the hairclip on their… well, hair.

“Did you…” Moon paused. “Checked the magazine?”

Karma shook their head. “Nope, just saw the cape.” The turn their head to the mirror. “There was a woman with a weird bikini on it.”

Moon shrinks awkwardly, the green on his LEDs getting stronger. “…Don’t look inside magazines like that.” He spins the S.T.A.F.F bots.

“I won’t, don’t worry.” Karma pats the moon plush. “The next one was worse.”

“What had she done?” Moon stretches his neck frontwards.

Karma points at a white necklace, a frown forming on their expression. “She was a true witch…” They shrink on their shoulders. “She almost ruined my crawly parade!” They exclaim with bitterness.

A raspy gasp comes from Moon’s voice box. “No no…” He shook his head, his blue turning into red.

“I almost lost one of my froggies!” The child almost jumps on their seat.

Moon brings his hand to his mouth, shaking his head. “Oh no no…”

Karma crosses their arms. “That one was an evil witch…” They mumble.

“Evil evil…” Moon takes the white necklace near Karma, whose sit upright on their seat. He smoothly places it around Karma’s neck. The child tilts their head on the mirror. The lunar one tilts his head to the side, glancing down patiently.

“…And the last one?” Moon hushed. Karma’s frown turns to discommodity, their head turn down to their feet, kicking the air weakly.

“…” Silence from the child. Moon leans down to his side, turning his faceplate upside down. “… She tried to dress me as a… ‘boy’.” Karma whispers.

Moon smoothly straightens his posture on his seat, the red changed into a withered green. His eyes locked down on Karma’s face in a long minute of silence. He could feel the bow on their head wither with their sadness. Oh, how much they hated to see Karma like that.

“…” The animatronic followed the silence along. “… do you feel like a boy?” Moon rests his elbow on his knee.

“…So.” Karma hugs the moon plush. “I… Technically ‘am’ a boy… At least that’s what everyone tells me.” They frown. “But… I don’t know…”

Moon leans his head closer. “…Your name?” He spins his faceplate.

“Here’s the thing. I have a ‘boy’ name.” Karma gestures with their fingers. “My dad gave me and I hate that name…” They hiss. “’Karma’ is the name that I like best, but everyone treats it like a nickname for me. So, they don’t take it so seriously.” They hold the moon plush to face them. “Only my mom and Nana actually understand that… I’m not sure if I want to stay as a boy or not.” The child holds the plush by its hands.

Moon drums his fingers on his chin and knee. “…Feel like a girl?”

“I don’t know…” They murmur.

“You can be both…” He tilts his head to the side. “You can be neither.” He tilts to the other.

“Ughhh.” Karma groans as they sink on the chair. “I don’t know…” They drop the plush on their face.

Moon clicks. He gently pushes the plush from their face to it fall on their lap. The animatronic carefully pats the child’s head. “No need to hurry.” Moon spoke softly.

Karma looks up to Moon and holds one of his long metal fingers with both of their hands. His hand turns to hold their tiny hands on his large palm, Karma sits straight on their seat and starts tapping their hands on Moon’s palm.

“You know…” The child speaks. “Despite all of that… I still like dressing up as a princess.” They place the plush hand on Moon’s palm.

“You are still a princess.” Moon replies. “Girl or not.” He closes his fingers glowing purple, holding gently the small hands, he pats the child with his other hand.

“I like dresses though…”

“So do I.”

“You’re an animatronic, it doesn’t count.”

…Moon rests his hand on Karma’s head for a minute, his dead fish eyes freeze as his head lifts upwards. “…” He opens his hand, letting go from the smaller hands. “Brb.” Moon is yanked by his wire to the darkness above. Karma looks up just to listen metal clicks and bells giggling away.

Now even a minute and Moon returns doing a somersault, rolling like an armadillo. He sits next to Karma like a dog with an old paper on his teeth, but spinning his faceplate. The child can’t help but laugh when Moon leans the paper to Karma.

On the paper there was a doodle of a ‘sun king’ and a ‘moon queen’. Karma can recognize Geppetto’s art style from any time, he had shown them multiple of his concept arts. The child looked at Moon and then the paper, for each turn their eyes seemed to get brighter and brighter.

“YOU WERE A QUEEN??” Karma exclaimed jumping on their seat, the plush almost fell but Moon picked it before it could hit the floor.

Moon replies with a giggle as his LED’s turn into pink. “Maybe maybe…” He scratches his faceplate with a finger. He places the plush back to Karma’s side.

Karma wiggled their feet in ecstasy as they stare at the paper. And they stop. “Wait a minute…” Their expression remains thoughtful. “… Did Geppetto made that choice or it was you?” The child tilts their head to Moon.

Moon drums his fingers on his faceplate, his eyes turn to the side.

The papers on the table, the sound of his fingers on the keyboard, that numb feeling weighting in its entire metal shell, the dusty rust in its joints. The old man said a single word, causing it to grip the table in front of the rusty animatronic. There were other people in the room, he flinched and backed away. How much it hated to be called like that, now finally aware of its own code. The old man didn’t scream like the others. He wasn’t running from the animatronic. He was… reassuring it? The people told him to run, but he didn’t. He finally called the animatronic. “Moonman”. Still with affliction. It stared for a long minute… It returned to its seat. It was enough.

“… He listened.” Moon looks down at Karma. The child blinks and handed back the paper to the animatronic, which slid the paper under his hat.

“You know what?” Karma held the plush. “It kind of makes sense that Sun was supposed to be a king before.” The child side-eyes with a smug.

“A flamboyant stuck up for sure.” Moon audibly grins in his voice box. Karma snickers along with the lunatic animatronic. “He’s now bonking me in here.” The child then crackles.

Karma makes a grabby motion towards Moon, which holds gently the child on his metal arms glowing bright purple. The small one bumps the plush against Moon’s face. “You guys are the best.” Karma giggles. “You two have some sort of a ‘mom and dad’ dynamic, I don’t know…”

The child’s words made Moon freeze in an instant. His LEDs flashed into white.

“Does that make Eclipse like, your child or something?” Karma obliviously asks while playing with the plush on their hands. They look up to Moon completely static while staring at nothing, fourth wall break style.

He looks down at Karma. Pats their head. And brings the child’s feet back to the ground. “Geppetto and Nana are done talking. Go.”

“…Okay.” Karma nods while removing the hairclip and necklace, handling it to Moon. “And Moon…” The lunar one clicks. “Thanks for that… And it was really fun!” The small one smiles at the animatronic.

“Your happiness is my only goal.” Moon bows at Karma like a gentleman, and the child bows back.

The voice of the old lady echoed through the corridor. The child skips to the bright exit of the room. Moon simply observes the child drifting away.

…He stared at his metal palm, the LED’s turning off. He wiggled his fingers, focusing on the clicking sounds.

Their small hand was growing. The child is getting older. Would he be able to easily carry them once they grow up? Would he follow up with their age?...

…

Moon clenches his fist. The wire hooked on his back and he is yanked to the dark above.

#niko niko writes #geppetto au #the daycare attendant #fnaf dca #daycare attendant #fnaf moon #moondrop #fnaf sun #sundrop #dca fanart #dca fandom #dca au #dca moon #fnaf daycare attendant #writing #dca fic #dca fanfic #dca fnaf

[thornybubbles]

What Makes Them Dangerous: Yandere Jotaro Kujo

Note: Finally decided to add more characters to this scenario. So here's Jotaro's.

Do I even need to explain what’s dangerous about yandere Jotaro? The man exudes violence from his very skin! While he is yet another yandere that will never show you his dark side (if he can help it), he has no trouble showing anyone else just how crazy he is for you. He tries to stay nonviolent most of the time, but he knows from experience that some people just can’t take the hint without getting a few of their teeth knocked out. Anyone that crosses you or gets in the way of his relationship with you will find themselves in his crosshairs. And they will quickly learn that this is a very, very bad place to be. Jotaro will try to reason with them first. He won’t bother to sugar coat things though. Gentle persuasion isn’t exactly his thing. If they keep messing with you or trying to separate you from him, he will put them in the ICU without hesitation (and that’s if they’re lucky). If they’re unlucky, well…. 

Jotaro doesn’t like the idea of taking a life, but that doesn’t mean that he won’t. He’s done it before and he’ll do it again if he feels he has to. Some people are just too stupid. Some people just don’t learn their lesson the first time. Some people don’t realize that Jotaro was being merciful when he only broke both of their legs. Some people simply don’t deserve to keep living. That guy that keeps flirting with you even after Jotaro nearly beat him to a pulp? He’s about to disappear. Jotaro only gives people one warning. If they can’t listen to reason then whatever happens next is completely their fault. Jotaro’s patience is limited, especially when it comes to you.

The worst part is that you can’t tell when he’s giving someone death glares or just being Jotaro. You feel like he’s giving your friend dirty looks, but it’s hard to tell because he tends to look at everybody like that. Dude’s got a fatal case of resting bitch face. It starts to bother you after a while and you finally decide to just come out and ask him why he keeps glaring at your friend, all he says is: 

“He’s annoying.” 

You sigh and shake your head. You don’t know what you expected. There aren’t many people around that Jotaro doesn’t find annoying so you aren’t really surprised by his response. You start to see less and less of that friend though. After a week or so of not seeing him at all, you start to get worried. He isn’t answering your calls, either. You decide to go to his house to find out what’s going on. You meet him just as he’s getting ready to go into town. He jumps when he hears your voice and visibly turns pale. You go to hug him and he just backs away from you, practically climbing over his car to get away from you, acting as if your arms just turned into venomous snakes. When you ask him what’s wrong he bluntly tells you that he doesn’t want to be friends with you anymore. You ask him why, but he offers no explanation. He just tells you that he wants nothing to do with you anymore and tells you not to call him or come to his house ever again. The whole time he’s saying this, he’s nervously glancing around and looking over his shoulder. It makes the situation all the more confusing. The whole thing upsets you pretty badly. 

You go up to your favorite spot, a place off the highway that is pretty secluded and overlooks the town. Hardly anyone goes up there, so it’s a good place to go to be alone. You aren’t alone for long, though, because the next thing you know Jotaro’s standing next to you. You have no idea how he snuck up on you so silently and it gives you a start when you turn your head and suddenly see him there, leaning on the railing next to you. He doesn’t say anything, just gives you a nod in greeting. You respond with a very glum sounding, “Hey.” 

There’s a moment of silence that lasts a little too long, before Jotaro breaks it. 

“What the hell’s wrong with you?” he asks, tone a little harsher than he meant for it to be. 

You stifle a sob, all of your emotions threatening to burst forth. You don’t want to cry in front of anyone, especially not Jotaro. You’re afraid he’d tell you to stop sniveling like a baby, because he sounds like he’s in a bad mood. After a moment though, you finally tell him about what happened between you and your friend. Jotaro listens intently, but doesn’t say anything. He offers no words of sympathy or encouragement. He just stands there and listens in silence. 

“I don’t know what I did to make him hate me and he wouldn’t tell me anything! He just pushed me out of his life like we hadn’t been friends since middle school!” You explain. “What’s so bad about it is that this isn’t the first time something like this has happened. It seems like all my old friends are all ditching me, too, and I don’t know why! I’m starting to think that there’s something wrong with me…” 

Another wave of emotion comes over you and you do your best to hold back the tears, but they start flowing in spite of your efforts. 

If Jotaro noticed, he didn’t say anything. Something cold nudges the back of your hand and you jump. You look down to see that Jotaro is offering you a can of beer. Whether you’re a drinker or not, you decide that tonight you could use something to take the edge off. You take the beer from him and open it. You take a few sips, not really liking the taste of it, but you’re not about to complain. Jotaro rarely does stuff like this for anyone, so you were going to take advantage of his rare display of kindness. It briefly occurs to you how weird it is that Jotaro managed to procure an ice cold beer way up there on the overlook, but that kind of stuff always seems to happen around him for some reason. You don’t question it. You look to see that Jotaro is already sipping on his own beer. He pulls the can away from his lips and stares at you with a serious look. 

“There’s nothing wrong with you.” he says. “They’re just shitty friends.” 

You looked away from him, staring out at the lights of the town. You weren’t too sure about that. If so many people were pulling away from you, surely it was because of something you did, right? Why else would they suddenly decide they didn’t want to be friends with you anymore? (If you only knew, Reader. If you only knew.)

“Stop worrying about it.” Jotaro’s irritated voice interrupted your brooding. “People that would cut ties with you and not even tell you why are not worth getting upset about. They’re just assholes and you’re better off without all of them.” 

His tone was a bit harsher than usual. He sounded legitimately pissed off. You didn’t say anything. You just took another sip of beer and stared up at him. He was looking out over the town, actively avoiding eye contact with you. He didn’t want you to see the murderous gleam in his eye. All he wanted was for you to forget about those losers and focus on him. You didn’t need them when you had him. 

“Besides… I’m still here aren’t I?” he muttered under his breath. The moment he said it he tugged the brim of his hat down over his eyes, feeling ashamed for saying something so sappy. 

It was just loud enough for you to hear and it caught you off guard. Jotaro was being awfully soft with you tonight. Well, as soft as he managed to be for anyone, but still this was unusual. Besides that, he was right. Of all of your friends, Jotaro was the only one that still hung around. He was the only one that hadn’t distanced himself from you. It was a miracle that he was even your friend to begin with, seeing how he seemed to hate the very idea of social interactions. If a guy like Jotaro was still willing to hang around you, and actually enjoyed doing so, then you must be doing something right. Fine. If your old friends didn’t want anything to do with you anymore, then you didn’t want to be around them anyway. Why stick around where you aren’t wanted? JoJo was a better friend than all of them combined!

“Yeah, you know what? Screw ‘em.” you said, suddenly feeling elated and free. 

You put the beer can to your lips and chugged the rest of it down, throwing your head back as you did so. Jotaro watched you with a small smile on his lips (which he hid by taking another sip of his beer). You finished off the beer with a satisfied sigh. It didn’t taste that great, but you didn’t care. You were celebrating a new beginning. From now on, you would only hang around people that actually cared about you. No more fake friends. If that meant that you only hung around JoJo, then so be it. At least you knew he wouldn’t bail on you for no reason at all. 

Jotaro allowed himself a brief smug smile before finishing off his own beer. While he was elated over the fact that he managed to make you forget about your former friends, he couldn’t ignore how depressed you were earlier. Even in the darkness, he managed to see your tears. He told your friend to stay away from you, but he didn’t tell the shithead to make you cry. Jotaro felt that he needed to teach that lowlife another lesson. Maybe a more permanent one this time?

#yandere jotaro #yandere jotaro kujo #yandere jotaro x reader #yandere jotaro kujo x reader #reader insert #yandere scenario #yandere scenarios #yandere jjba #yandere jjba x reader #yandere jojo's bizarre adventure #jjba #jojo's bizarre adventure #jojos bizzare adventure x reader #yandere jojo #jojo x reader #jojos bizarre adventure #jojo no kimyou na bouken

[happilyhertale]

Long Lost Love - Aemond Targaryen x female!reader, Part 5

Summary: You are the daughter of Daemon and Rhaenyra. When the invitation to Aegon and Helaena's wedding came, your entire family rushes from Dragonstone to King's Landing to take part in the festivities. You haven't seen your family in King's Landing for 6 years so you are very excited...

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x fem!reader

Warnings: At the beginning none – eventually smut (uncle/niece)

Author’s note: Hello you! (:

This is my first fic so please be nice (: I thought I'd just try a little self-considered story. I hope u like it.

The events are not entirely similar from the series.

English is my second language, please forgive me if I made any mistakes (:

Word count: 4k

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 6, Part 7a, Part 7b, Part 8, Part 9, Part 10, Part 11, Part 12, Part 13, Part 14, Part 15

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On the way back to the garden, to your "secret" tree, you kept laughing uncontrollably.

Why? Only the gods know. When you finally arrived, you made yourselves comfortable. You sit down on a bench, Aemond sits cross-legged on the ground opposite you. You just talk, or rather Aemond talks. The more wine you drink, the more often you have to turn your attention back to your conversation.

Again and again you notice how you lose yourself in his eye. Or how you just stare at his lips. Aemond would have noticed if he hadn't drunk at least as much wine as you. So you sit in the garden, in your old "secret" place, while Aemond tells you one story after another about old Valyria and you stare at Aemond, lost in thought. 

After a while, when Aemond has also fallen silent, you feel the urge to go to your chambers. But not alone, you don't want your time with Aemond to be over already. Thanks to your intoxicated state, you come up with an idea.

"Aemond?"

"Mhm?", Aemond smiles slightly.

"Will you take me to my chambers?", Aemond responds visibly glum to your question. But dutifully he agrees, "Of course Y/N."

You slowly stand up and smooth your dress back down. Aemond trudges on slowly, but you don't move.

When he notices this and turns to you, he looks at you questioningly, "Your chambers is this way?"

"I know very well where my chambers is," he looks at you in confusion, "but will you not escort a lady to her chambers in a proper manner?" Aemond, still visibly confused, stops in his tracks and looks at you questioningly. You sigh and walk towards him, without hesitation you take his arm and hook it, "And here I was thinking you were the smarter of the two of us" Calmly you walk to your chambers. In between, unpleasant thoughts cross Aemond's mind. Your sudden wish for him to accompany you to your chambers awakens in him the fear that he is boring you. Little did he know that up to now he has never bored you in the slightest. Caught up in his thoughts, Aemond doesn't notice how hard you press against his arm to be as close to him as possible. 

As you reach your chambers, you disengage yourself from his arm and open your door. You turn to Aemond and smile at him. He can't help but return your smile. Just as he was about to say goodbye to you, you look right and left down the corridor to see if anyone is around. Aemond, noticing your sudden circumspection, looks at you questioningly. When you are sure that no one is around, you pull Aemond into your chambers without warning.

Aemond doesn't know what's happening to him and looks at you in shock, "Y/N, what are we doing here?". You carefully close the door and lock it from the inside, Aemond still looks in shock in your direction.

"I don't want our evening to end now, but I didn't want to sit in the garden anymore either," you pout. Aemond laughs and is visibly relieved, "You could have just asked me to spend time with you in your chambers. Instead of practically coercing me," he winks at you. "And you would have come?" you ask incredulously. "Well I'm standing in your chambers right now and I haven't left it yet, so chances are good." You smile at him, "Come, tell me another story by the fire," Aemond has never been happier as you approach him and reach for his hand to pull him along.

As Aemond sits down on the couch by the fire, you make your way to the small table that sits in a corner of your chambers to get you more wine. You enjoy your wine by the fire while Aemond enraptures you with his stories. Dazed by the wine and the late hour, you yawn more and more often as you suddenly stand up and Aemond looks after you.

You stand in front of him and look at him cheekily, "Aemond? Give me your vest," Aemond chokes on his wine and a " Pardon me?" slips out. You smile at him, "I want to sleep in your vest tonight." As you speak, your hand wanders to the first gold buckle of your dress and you undo it.

"Y/N, what are you doing?" Your hand, watched closely by Aemond, stays in place. "I want to lie in bed and while I lie in bed I want to wear your vest. And you shall lie in bed with me." For what feels like an eternity you just look at each other. Slowly you turn and walk to your room divider. Aemond gets up from the couch in a flash, "Y/N.... we should..." You turn to Aemond, your hand already on the second buckle of your dress. Aemond hesitates. There is nothing he would rather do than lie in this bed with you, but he doesn't want to trample your virtue either. "Aemond, I only want to lie in my bed with you. Please don't go" Aemond closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, "Okay, I'll stay"

You grin at him, "But I need your vest. Because otherwise I'd have to be naked in bed with you" He gives you a warning look, "If I give you my vest I won't have anything to cover my chest. And by the way, where are your nightgowns?"

"They're all at the cleaners."

"Oh, you are a shameless liar, you arrived yesterday"

You grin even wider, "No I'm not." Aemond, realising that it is pointless to argue with you in this state, sighs and begins to undo his leather waistcoat. Cheerfully, you turn back around and continue your way to the room divider. "Do you know this is the second time you've made me do something today?" says Aemond as he puts his leather waistcoat over a chair and begins to unbutton his vest at the neck. "Actually, you're just saving me from having to sleep naked," your dress falls quietly to the floor and you stand there in just your light underwear. Aemond chuckles, "If your father knew I was in bed with you, we'd have a big problem. And by the way, I like my head on my shoulders."

"Then it's better if we don't tell him that. Have you finished undressing? I'm getting a bit cold". You are standing behind your room divider, arms wrapped around your torso, when suddenly the vest lands on the room divider. You take it and smile. You feel so stupid, but you have to smell it for a moment. As you press your nose into the vest, you smell only the delicate scent of Aemond, you chuckle.

"Are you done yet? I'm getting a bit cold." Nice try... he's trying to tease you with your own cheeky sentences. You quickly put on the much too large vest and peek out from behind the room divider.

And there he is, Aemond, lying in your bed. He is shirtless and you realise that you have never seen anything more beautiful. He looks out of the window and in the dim candlelight he looks almost godlike. Your gaze falls on his muscular shoulders and perfect chest. His hands are folded at his crotch as your gaze falls on his hands. You swallow hard. And suddenly you are no longer so self-confident. You look at him, your hands clasped in front of you, while Aemond turns his gaze to you. You look at each other for a moment and as if sensing your sudden insecurity, he holds out his hand to you and whispers, "Come here." You smile shyly. 

Slowly you walk over to your bed and climb into bed with him. You have never been in bed with a man before. And suddenly you realise that you don't know how to lie in bed with a man. And that makes you even more nervous. But Aemond takes that nervousness away from you. As you lie down next to him and crawl under your covers, he naturally lifts his arm so that you can crawl to his side. You gladly accept this invitation.

You lie there in silence for what feels like an eternity, just listening to his breathing. Aemond is lying over the blanket and still has his trousers on. Your head rests on his chest and you inhale his wonderful scent. One of his arms is around your body, holding you close to his side. His other arm is folded behind his head. Suddenly you feel a desire.

"Aemond?" he looks at you lightly from the side, "mhm?" "Touch me," without knowing what you are doing to him, he groans, "What?!" he looks at you, startled, but you don't look at him. "Stroke me Aemond". Aemond, who is now a little more reassured that you didn't mean "touching", isn't sure how long he can resist the temptation to just kiss you and let it get to the point where he is the first man to make love to you.

He swallows hard and looks over at you and sees you looking at him with sad eyes, almost pleading and a soft whisper of "please" leaving your lips. His jaw tightens and he takes a deep breath. You have almost resigned yourself to the fact that he is just holding you tonight, but then you suddenly notice how his fingers run along your side and slowly glide over your body. At first he moves very stiffly, but over time his touches become more and more gentle. You snuggle up even closer to his side. Your hand, which lies next to your face on his naked chest, takes up the movement as if by itself and you gently caress his chest. You simply enjoy lying in his arms like this. As he turns, you are afraid for a moment that he will loosen his embrace, but he turns a little further towards you and takes his other hand away from behind his head and places it on his chest to stroke your arm as well.

Aemond leans his head against yours and gives you a kiss on your hair. You smile, "Stay the night." You feel him smile into your hair, "But then I must leave your chambers early in the morning. If anyone sees me here..." "...My father will separate your head from your shoulders, I know," he chuckles into your hair, leaving another kiss there. "I'll stay," Aemond replies softly. You just answer him with a smile that he doesn't see. Slowly your eyes fall closed and you fall asleep in Aemond's arms. 

Aemond slowly wakes up. Something is different, something feels strange. He feels something on his chest and on his arm and it is moving. When he opens his eyes and sees the silver hair lying on his chest, he remembers... You are still in his arms. He smiles and realises that he has never slept so well. He still smiles slightly as he sees how pleased you look, if not happy. Aemond just watches you for a while, listening to your quiet breaths. Carefully he strokes your cheek and you crinkle your nose in response. As his eyes go to the window, he sees that dawn is approaching. An unfamiliar feeling of sadness spreads through him at the thought that he must leave now. He gently kisses your hair and inhales your scent, but you are oblivious to it all.

When he has carefully released himself from the embrace, he slides smoothly out of bed. Quietly, he walks through your chambers to retrieve his waistcoat as he turns back to the bed and realises you have his vest. "Mhm...", he takes his waistcoat and pulls it over his bare chest. He will get his vest back later. Quietly he opens your door and he sticks his head through the half-opened door. He can't see anyone and so he slips out of your chambers into the corridor.

His thoughts keep drifting back to last evening. They were so unusual and yet so beautiful for him. He was never one to crave tenderness or togetherness with another person. Sure, in the past he had spent time with women. But mostly for one reason: to experience satisfaction. Even in those moments, he was unable to look them in the eye while he humped them. He always humped them hard from behind while they knelt on all fours in front of him. As soon as they tried to turn around, he lost his lust. He was not a friend of tenderness, but these women longed for him to be tender with them, but he saw no need for it. Though it was different the one time he was with a certain woman. Alys. He was almost ashamed to come out of your chambers thinking of Alys. He pushes those thoughts away. It's different with you. He enjoys every second with you, every tenderness that is exchanged. And what was new for him was that he couldn't stop caressing you. This simple touch, and without ever having made love to you, made him feel deeply satisfied.

He even finds your innocent manner sweet in a certain way. When you suddenly stood in front of him, so innocent, in just his vest, it makes him chuckle softly. He never found it seductive when an unplucked flower in the form of a pristine Lady stood before him wanting his attention. It's different with you...

Usually he prefers it when the woman knows what she wants. But when he saw you yesterday, so unaware of what it means to tell a man to touch you, he felt a different kind of arousal. And that's when he realised that he's never longed for a woman the way he's longed for you. 

Slowly you open your eyes and immediately feel a kind of emptiness. Your gaze goes to the other side of the bed, but there is no Aemond lying there. You wonder if you have only dreamed the events of last night. But when you realise that you are wearing his vest, you smile and wrap your arms around your body to feel his vest as close as possible. After a while you sit up and see that the sun is already shining into your room - Aemond must have left your room some time ago. As you finish dressing, you set off for breakfast with your family.

But halfway there, your father and Jace meet you, "Would you like to train with us?" Jace asks you with a grin. "Now?" you reply, a little irritated, "Well, we're off." You think for a moment as Jace and Daemon walk past you. Eventually you walk after them and Daemon smirks at you.

"Come on, Y/N, don't neglect your defence!" your father shouts at you as you get up from the ground with your face covered in dust. "If you had fought fair, this wouldn't have happened!" you shout back. You move in a circle, looking each other straight in the eye, your sword resting loosely but securely in your hand, your breathing heavy. "It's not fair on the battlefield either, you have to expect everything" You mimic him. "Maybe you should put Aemond out of your mind for a while so you can concentrate on fighting"

That's enough. Without warning, you let out a shout and run straight at him. You surprise him with it, but he quickly dodges to the side and rams his elbow into your ribs. You fall to your knees, gasping, because the punch has forced the air out of your lungs. You pause for a moment to catch your breath.

You notice that Daemon has turned away and is slowly moving away from you. This is your chance, you get up as quickly as you can and immediately go for him. Just as Daemon is about to turn towards you, the flat of your sword hits him hard on the back. He screams out and strikes back with his free hand to catch you, but you are quicker. Quickly you bend down and use the element of surprise to pull his legs away.

Daemon has fallen.

He is still trying to get up again. But you are already standing over him, visibly satisfied, and hold your blade to his neck. Breathing heavily, he looks up at you. "That wasn't fair," he gasps. You look at him incredulously and reply with a simple, "You just have to expect everything, then it won't happen." He smirks at you, "Okay maybe that's enough for today". You smile and help him up.  

Aemond stood on the edge of the training ground most of the time watching you. He is impressed that you are facing Daemon like this. Even though he is your father, Daemon does not hold back when he fights with you. Yet you face him and that impresses Aemond. And not only do you fight him, you even manage to make him go down. He can't deny it, but that makes you even more seductive to him. Nor can he deny how it arouses him and makes his trousers tighter in the crotch. Suddenly he sees you looking straight at him. 

Out of nowhere you see Aemond standing on the edge watching you. His arms are folded behind his back and he smiles at you. You are surprised to see him here now and cannot suppress a smile. Daemon notices this and he clears his throat. When you look at him, he has raised his eyebrows. Before you can be embarrassed, he says, "Well, go on over to him.“ You can only nod at your father. On the way to Aemond, you can't help it, your grin grows bigger.

"Aemond."

"Y/N," he replies with a smile. You stand in front of each other in silence for a moment as he lifts his hand and gently wipes some dust from your face. Your breath catches briefly. "So I'm distracting you while you're training?" You look at him, puzzled. "Well, your father said that if I wasn't in your head, you would be able to defend yourself better," blood rushes to your face and you stammer, "What...? no... it...", Aemond laughs. "He's just trying to embarrass me so I won't be able to successfully defend myself."

Aemond replies with a grin, "Mhm..."

"Nevertheless, you still have my vest. It's not like I could just take the vest off you this morning," your cheeks reddened even more at the thought. Aemond loves that sight.

"Then you'll have to take it with you next time," you say with a smile on your lips. "Oh, next time?" he replies. "Yes, next time. But for now I'm leaving. I have to take a bath before I can go to the festivities tonight. Will I see you there?" He smiles at you, "Of course. How could I want to miss you."

"Okay, I'll see you later then." He gives you a slight nod and you make your way to your chambers. 

Startled, you realise that you have been dawdling. The warm bath water has made you stay in the tub longer than you wanted to. But you look perfect. Before you leave your chambers, you look in the mirror. Your dress is not that different from yesterday's, except that today you have chosen a black one with dark red applications, your favourite combination. Your long hair is braided back into a light plait and a necklace with many precious stones hangs around your neck. But the necklace cascades like a waterfall and ends just above the base of your breasts with a lovely sapphire. With a quick step you make your way to the hall.

And just as you thought, the festivities were already in full swing. You make your way through the crowd to the main table. You greet your grandfather and Alicent, "We're a bit late today, aren't we?" King Viserys asks you. You smile at him, "I apologise, the warm bath water was too tempting". Your grandfather gives a short laugh, "Apology accepted". With a slight bow you move on to sit next to your father. You kiss him on the cheek, as you always do, in greeting. "Well, have you recovered from your fall?" you ask him, teasing him. All you get in reply is a raised eyebrow.

The evening drags on again. It is really no pleasure to sit in a hall where everyone can watch you, as if you were on display. But one look in particular catches your eye. Ever since you entered the hall, Aemond's gaze has been following you and when you notice that he stands up, you think of doing the same. You give your father a small smile and stand up from the table. 

You see Aemond walk onto a nearby balcony. You follow him through the crowd and as you stand in the doorway to the balcony, you pause for a moment. The sun is just setting and Aemond seems to be watching the sunset. His hands rest on the railing and the whole scene seems so gentle, you don't really dare disturb it. After a few moments you slowly walk towards him. He tilts his head slightly to the side as you stand beside him. You look off into the distance and do as he does, watching the sunset.

"I haven't seen you dance yet," you break the silence. He looks at you, "I haven't seen you dance either," you have to smile briefly, "but nevertheless, dancing in a hall full of people is not so tempting for me." You slip out a quiet, "Oh."

He watches you, "Dancing is for Lords who have no idea how to make stimulating conversation with a Lady. How to compliment a Lady, how to use words properly. Without dancing, they would never find a suitable Lady to marry, would not be able to enjoy being close to a woman."

You meet his gaze, "Well, I like to dance. Not all the time, but with the right Lord, it can be fun." With a smirk on his lips, he replies, "Then I guess you'll have to wait for a gracious Lord to ask you to dance."

You sigh as his gaze falls on your necklace. Carefully he lifts his hand to stroke your necklace, "That's a lovely sapphire." You look down at your necklace, "Yes, my father had the gems collected especially for me, but the sapphire is really the most beautiful. That's why I wanted it to be placed in the middle." Aemond just smiles gently, "That's true, it really does look the most beautiful." 

After a time of silence Aemond taps on the railing seemingly impatiently, "Would you accompany me to the garden? Away from all the crowds here? We could also take some wine with us," he winks at you. Visibly pleased, you accept his invitation, "I'd love to," you smile. Aemond holds out his arm to guide you appropriately. Together you make your way to the hall. As you reach the hall, it seems as if all the Lords and Ladies present turn to look at you. You notice Aemond stiffen because he is obviously uncomfortable with everyone staring at him.

Too late, Aemond realises that he will be walking with you through a crowded hall. What you don't know is that Aemond becomes insecure when society sees him with a Lady. As if out of reflex, your free hand reaches up to place it on his arm as well. As if it were a matter of course, you stroke him gently as you walk down the corridor. He looks into your eyes and smiles gently, making it bearable for him to walk through the crowd. Just before you reach the exit, Aemond stops a servant. The servant looks visibly startled, "You won't need these," and Aemond takes the wine bottle from him, which the servant was about to take to a table. The servant bends slightly in front of Aemond. "Now we can go," Aemond whispers in your ear. You chuckle.

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Taglist

@leahjean  @afro-hispwriter  @jeyramarie  @powellssaturn @notabotiswear @hoshi-miharu-blog @random-human02 @m00n5t0n3 @sporadicshepherdzinebear @drewsgfduh @stargaryenx @dark-night-sky-99 @notabotiswear @ccosmic-illusion @darylandbethfanforever9

#aemond x y/n #daemon targeryen x reader #ewan mitchell #hotd #aemond fanfiction #aemond imagine #aemond x you #aemond targaryen #aemond fic #aemond smut #aemond fanfic #house of the dragon #hotd imagine #hotd smut #hotd fanfic #aemond targaryen x original character #aemond targaryen x targaryen!reader #aemond targaryen x you #aemond fluff #aemond targaryen imagine #house of the dragon aemond #aemond drabble #aemond one eye #aemond x lucerys #prince aemond #prince aemond targaryen #hotd aemond x reader #aemond the kinslayer #matt smith #the rogue prince

[yuurei20]

Short translation from the second Twisted Wonderland novel: Meeting Pomefiore (pt2)

"‘You came to see the student of ours who was hurt, did you not? Here he is.’

With a gesture from Rook, a second-year student steps forward.

Before he and Yuuya can even finish exchanging pleasantries, Rook tilts his head back and declares, 'Ah, it is, truly, such a tragedy. To grip onto a cauldron of boiling herbs with one’s bare hands!’

‘Hah? He touched a hot cauldron?’ Grim blurts out, and the glum-looking student gives a nod. ‘That’s it? He’s just an oaf.’

'That’s not true!’ The student insists, covering his eyes with both his bandaged hands, which seem to pain him. ‘I was being so careful…please believe me, housewarden, vice-housewarden!’

‘Of course we believe you. No one here is assigning blame,’ Rook assures the student, gently patting him on the shoulder.

‘But with how diligently you have been practicing, we can scarcely bear to think upon how you must be feeling now.’

‘Vice-housewarden Rook…I have not yet given up. While I will not be in top condition, I swear I will earn a place on the Spelldrive team!’

‘Oh! Such determination to fight, even wounded as you are—truly, beauté!’

Rook and the second-year student immerse themselves in an enthusiastic conversation full of dramatic gesturing, as though performing in a play.

In front of the bewildered Yuuya, Vil gives the pair a cold look. ‘Can you not save all that for later? What you wish to know is the circumstances under which the injury took place, correct?’

Yuuya gives a nod, and Vil raises his chin.

Another student appears, slight enough to have been hidden behind Rook all the while, and he leaves both Yuuya and Grim gaping. A shockingly adorable boy with lavender-colored hair.

His facial features are delicate in every conceivable way; so fragile that it is as if he has been crafted from pure sugar, and may crumble away at the slightest touch. A different beauty from that of Vil, his is the unreal ephemerality of fantasy.

‘Epel. You saw what happened, did you not? Explain.’

The boy called Epel nods, and speaks. His appearance is matched only by his equally adorable, gentle voice.

‘I was working on a potionology assignment after school. I believe senpai was reviewing a lesson. We were working at adjacent lab tables, and each handling different potions…and then, suddenly, senpai just kinda went and grabbed 'is cauldron!’ Apparently having realized something, Epel shakes his head, flustered. ‘I mean, I was…astonished?’

‘So that’s it? He just spaced out,’ Grim remarks. The injured student makes a dramatic gesture as he most fervently denies it.

As the exchange from earlier begins again Vil moves to Yuuya’s side, and whispers, “The fact that you have come to investigate—might this mean that it was no mere accident?’

‘Eh?’ Yuuya’s eyes go wide, and Vil crosses his arms.

‘Did you really think I would not notice? Saying you want to speak to the injured student—nothing is more suspicious. You do not even seem to be acquaintances. It is more natural to assume that something is amiss here than not.’

‘Um, well…yes. To tell the truth, there is something of a situation…’ As Yuuya explains his conversation with the headmage, Vil’s expression hardens.

‘The headmage…would not going to the housewardens, first and foremost, have been far more sensible than this spudling?’

Now visibly angry Vil remains as beautiful as ever, becoming all the more imposing. Yuuya apologizes, which only sours Vil’s expression further.

‘And why do you apologize? I was speaking of the headmage.’ Exasperated by Yuuya’s constant apologies, Vil breathes a sigh and haughtily turns away.

’There is nothing more to say to you. I will protect my dorm. You two tend to your own affairs.’

It seems that there is nothing more to be learned from Pomefiore.

Yuuya thanks the group, and returns to the mirror chamber."

#twst translations #twisted wonderland #Pomefiore #Kuroki Yuuya #twstnovel2

[ickadori]

Taiju is an amazing cook, as declared by the three Michelin stars displayed in his restaurant, but sometimes he doubts his skills when it comes to cooking for his family.

He’s been hard at work, prepping and getting everything ready for a nice dinner to commemorate his son’s first day at daycare, and your first day back in the office (something that he had been stalling for the past three years — he wanted you home and resting, not having to lift a finger lest you wanted to, was that such a terrible wish?).

He had taken the both of your pickiness into account, choosing to go with a dish that had won over even the most critical of food critics and earned him his very first star — it was a hit, a delicacy, and some could only dream of being able to catch a simple whiff of the meal.

And here you two sat, noses scrunched up and eyes shifty as you both poked at the food with your forks. Taiju had tasted it for himself, he knows it’s good, delicious even, and he’d argue that this is the best heat ever made it, and yet…

“Stinky.” Jiro quips, hands pushing his plate as far away as his arms can reach, and if he didn’t twist his lips and furrow his brows exactly like you did, Taiju would have been a touch mad.

“Honey, that’s not nice.” You lightly chide, and you have the decency to look sheepish. “Just try it - you might like it.” You gather some food on your fork and hold it in front of the incredibly stubborn two year old’s mouth. Jiro frowns and gives a hard shake of his head, and Taiju visibly deflates, shoulders hunching and eyebrows drawing together. “C’mon, sweetie, look. I’ll try it, too.”

You lift the fork to your mouth, and Taiju leans in, a little flame of hope flickering inside of him, but it’s quickly snuffed out when your face crumbles and he physically sees you force yourself to swallow.

“Mm, delicious.” You whisper, going in for a second bite to really seal the deal, but Taiju swipes the two plates from the dining table and carries them off into the kitchen, not missing the way you sigh in relief.

“Corn dogs and fries?” He calls from the kitchen, and he receives two enthusiastic whoops in return, a stark contrast to the glum looks and mutters that his dishes had received.

He casts a sidelong glance to the Michelin star plaque mounted on the wall.

#taiju x reader #now that that’s outta my system #back to jjk :p

[sweetyyhippyy]

No Possibility. Eddie Munson x fem! reader. *ANGST*

Summary: Eddie's wife comes home with some sad news. Eddie tries to comfort her the best way he can.

Word Count: 627

TW: *EXTREMLY HEAVY TOPIC* Trouble getting pregnant. A lot of crying.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It wasn’t what she was hoping to hear from the doctor.

What made her more glum was the fact that she has to tell her husband that the past year was a waste of their time, and that it was never going to happen.

As soon as she heard his motorcycle pull into the garage, her stomach was in knots, the lump that has been in the back of her throat since after her appointment, only got tighter, and a cold wave of anxiety washed over her.

How was she going to tell him without breaking his heart?

“Babe! ‘M home!” Eddie’s voice calls out from the front of the house, his work boots thumping to the kitchen where she was. “There she is. Lemme get a kiss.” He comes from behind her and presses a sweet kiss to her right cheek, resting his chin on her shoulder. “How was your day?”

“It was okay.” Her voice was small, the hurt and nervousness apparent. There was no disguising it.

“Hey, you okay?” His dark brows knitted together in concern.

She bites her bottom lip to stop it from starting to quiver, turning to look at this big brown eyes of his that won her over the day he asked her out on a date 5 years ago. “I had my doctor's appointment today, Eds.” She sighs.

“Good news or bad news?” He asks, backing up to stand next to her. “Well, I guess you wouldn’t seem so sad if it was good news, huh?” He mutters, looking at her in sympathy.

“One of my ovaries is no good, there’s zero eggs. My other one has eggs, but my doctor said my uterus isn’t strong enough to carry a full term pregnancy. If we tried, either the baby could die, or me.”

Eddie visibly takes all the information in, gnawing his bottom lip nervously.

“I’m sorry, Eddie. We’ve been trying to get pregnant for so long, and it was all for nothing.” Tears start to roll down her cheeks as she speaks to him. “I can’t even give you the one thing you’ve wanted your whole life. I can’t even make you a dad.” She hiccups as she sobs. “I’m sorry.” She rests her elbows on the counter, burying her face into her hands.

“No, it wasn’t all for nothing, sweetheart. Don’t say that.” Eddie wraps himself around her shaking body, trying to control his own tears.

She picks her head up out of her hands and looks at him, shaking her head. “I wasted our time.”

“No You didn’t.” Eddie puts his hand under her chin, making her look at him. “This year has been amazing. Putting sex aside, I feel like, somehow, I’ve gotten to know your body and mind more than I have since we first got together. I thought I knew everything about you before we got married. I don’t know how that’s possible, but I feel more connected with you.”

She sniffles at his words. “But I can’t make you a dad.”

“That’s okay. I can still be a dad. We can adopt, we can figure out how to become foster parents. We can take in some kids that have shitty lives and love them the way they should be. Or, maybe we let the dream go off becoming parents, that’s okay too.”

She turns her body to him, burying her face in his chest, sobbing into it. Even though he said he was okay with not being a dad, her heart still broke a little at the fact she wouldn’t be able to carry their children.

Eddie held her tight, letting her soak his shirt with tears. He understood how much this killed her. “It’s okay, baby. I promise it’ll be okay."

#eddie munson #eddie munson angst #eddie munson x fem reader #eddie munson x fem reader angst #eddie munson x fem! reader

[writerwhowritesao3]

What Is And What Should Never Be Chapter 5: June, 1985

Excerpt:

A crack of lightning lit up the sky. The accompanying thunder rumbled immediately after.

"Billy. Can you just get in the car, please?" 

Billy pressed his lips together, like he was about to keep arguing. But then, thank God, he opened the passenger door and got in. 

They sat in silence for a few minutes. Billy shivered in his seat; he was completely soaked, from his head to his shoes. Jim wished he had a towel or a blanket or something to give him, but he didn't. Billy reached into his pocket and pulled out a crumpled and flat pack of cigarettes. It was, predictably, also wet. Billy opened it anyway. When he saw that the cigarettes inside were ruined, he sighed and let his head fall back on the headrest. 

Jim pulled out his own pack of smokes from the center console and held it out to Billy. He mumbled a thanks and accepted one. Jim handed him a matchbook and took a cigarette for himself. 

In the grand scheme of things, was giving a teenager a cig really that bad?

"You know how stupid it is to be out here like this, right?" Jim asked. 

Billy kept his eyes on the windshield, watching the rain hit the glass. 

"Coulda gotten hit by a car," Jim continued. "Coulda slipped and broken your ankle or something."

Billy still gave no response. He kept puffing away at his smoke.

"What if something from the Upside Down came through and attacked you? Did you even think about that? What was the plan if that happened?"

"Run fast," Billy finally said with a shrug. 

Jim sighed and started the car. 

"So," he said. "Just decided to take a walk, huh?"

"Mmhm."

Jim knew in his gut that that was a load of horseshit. He wanted to ask Billy directly if something had happened at home. Something that made him run out, even in the middle of a storm. He didn't have any bruises, at least. Not visible ones anyway. But that didn't mean anything. 

"Haven't seen you in a while," Jim said casually. "Been keeping busy?"

"Yeah. I've been taking a lot of shifts at the pool," Billy said. "Need to save up for college and stuff."

"That's great! How are things at the pool? You like it?"

"It's alright. I mean, it's a job, you know?"

"Sure, I get that," Jim nodded. 

"My coworkers are total dicks. Except for this one girl. She's pretty cool."

"Oh yeah?" Jim asked. He decided to tease him a little. "You gonna ask her out?"

Billy snorted. 

"Aren't you not supposed to shit where you eat?" he said.

Jim laughed. 

"Smart," he said. "That little life lesson usually takes a few years to learn."

Billy didn't respond. He took a final drag of his cig, stubbed it on the inside of the top flap of his ruined pack, and slipped the butt inside. Jim remembered that he didn't just toss the butt like most people did.

"How's everything otherwise?" Jim said, desperate to keep a conversation going. 

"It's fine."

"You get to hang out with your friends more now that school's out?"

"Not really," Billy said. "I'm scheduled during the day and weekends a lot. And Nancy and Jonathan are at the Post every day. And Steve's been scheduled for a bunch of evening shifts. So. We've only been able to hang out a couple times, like, as a group. Sometimes Steve and I have the same day off though. But, like, sometimes there's family shit we have to do."

Jim nodded. He didn't want to tell Billy that finding the time to see your friends only got harder as an adult. The kid seemed glum enough already.

"How is your family?" Jim asked.

"Fine."

"Max?"

"Annoying. But fine. Isn't she, like, always at your house?"

"Yeah, but I'm usually at the station when she's over," Jim said. "Your stepmom? She's doing okay?"

"Mmhm."

"And your dad?"

"He's fine."

"I think I overheard Max mention to El that his hours were cut?" Jim asked with a carefully casual tone.

"Oh...yeah," Billy said. "It was a union thing. It's done now, though, so he's working regular hours again."

Security guards had unions. Labor unions had disputes all the time. It was certainly plausible that Neil Hargrove's hours had been cut because of a union thing. Logically, Jim had no reason to not believe Billy. 

"Gotta stick with the union, right?"

"My dad isn't a scab," Billy said.

Billy was defending his father's honor. It was entirely possible that Neil Hargrove was the type of parent who taught his son about labor unions and fair wages, and who imparted values like 'don't be a dirty scab'. It was possible that Neil Hargrove wasn't the type of parent who beat his son—or if he was, it was possible that he didn't cross the line between legal corporal punishment and abuse.

But it was also possible that Neil Hargrove was abusive. It was possible that Jim's gut feeling about him was spot-on. 

#billy hargove #jim hopper #billy hargrove and jim hopper #harringrove #harringrove fanfiction #stranger things fanfiction

[purdledooturt]

Beginner's Lock

Summary: He didn’t really want to waste lockpicks but he needed to hold up his end of the bargain, so it couldn’t be helped — Astarion never personally made promises he couldn’t keep. Plus she could always just buy more lockpicks to replace the ones she inevitably would break, so the vampire spawn continued with his collecting of interesting looking boxes for his latest project - teaching Tav how to pick locks. Rating: T for swearing and general sassiness. Word count: A whopping 8,498. Hoo. Pairing: Astarion x F!Tav Series: 9 INT Tales

Also available on AO3 if that is more preferable 🤠 For context on Astarion's nickname, 'Melon', you may have to read the previous instalment to 9 INT Tales, Drink Break.

If one were to ask Astarion who the best teacher for lockpicking would be, he would not hesitate to offer himself as an answer (whether or not he would actually teach was an entirely separate matter). And it seemed Tav had the same idea.

Their arrangement started a few nights ago. Their intrepid leader had found herself stuck in a dark cell with a lock that was a little complex even for Astarion, and even though she wasn’t locked in for too long the experience had visibly shaken her. When they returned to camp that afternoon she’d wandered into her tent and had to be coaxed out for dinner, which worried the party slightly, given Tav was often proactive about dinner preparation (and the act of eating it).

She was obviously glum for the rest of the night, even when Astarion and Karlach jointly tried to tease her out of her little shell. She merely smiled a little smile that didn’t bring out the crease in her eyes, before she muttered a response that was, at the very most, quarter-hearted. Lae’zel, of all people, offered to take over Tav’s cleaning chores for the night, with some excuse of wanting the job done right. Tav merely responded with another smile before declaring to the rest of the party that she would like to turn in for the night – again, earlier than normal, without even spending any time chatting around the campfire.

She returned to her tent to uneasy mutterings of ‘goodnight’ and ‘sleep well’, and the party looked worriedly at one another as she disappeared through the canvas. No one felt comfortable enough to say anything – the rest of them continued with their usual routines, but they would occasionally stop to check on Tav’s tent for any movement.

A few hours later, near the end of Astarion’s watch just before Halsin woke, Tav emerged from her tent, hugging a knit robe close. She had actually managed to take him by surprise — he was so absorbed in the book he was reading that he didn’t pick up on her timid shuffling until she’d stood a meter from him, whispering, “Astarion, could you… please teach me to pick locks?”

His head shot up, and he had to remind himself that he was in safe company before he pulled his daggers out and pounced on his companion’s throat. “Darling,” he began empathetically, putting a hand over his chest. He tried his best to act nonchalant, to try and pretend that she didn’t just shoot a bolt of electricity through his heart by walking up to him. He observed her face — this seemed serious enough for him to mark his progress on his book with an abandoned recipe of Gale’s and call it quits for the night. “You… want to learn to pick locks?”

“Yes,” she said, before hesitating. “I… Please.”

He shifted to make room for her on the rug next to him. She slowly ambled over, keeping her knit robe wrapped tight around her form. He arranged some pillows behind her. He noted her slouched posture. “Well, I’m guessing this is brought on by your little… debacle this afternoon.”

Her fists closed over the material tighter, near imperceptible if not for his keen eye observing her body language with great interest – leftovers from his days of seduction. “Yes,” she said, before looking at the tents around them, lowering her voice further as she divulged, “I’ve… never mentioned this before but I’m actually afraid of dark, closed in spaces.” She let out a shuddering breath and gave him a reassuring smile that he’d rate 3 out of 10 for convincingness. She tried to make herself look smaller, and when she continued it sounded like she was trying to persuade herself. “It’s stupid, isn’t it? A bit childish of me, I know, but I… would just like to be able to get myself out of tight spots, you know?”

Astarion’s breath stilled.

How could he say no to that? The fear of dark, closed in spaces was not uncommon, nor was it childish. Most people were afraid of being buried alive in some form, and they should be – he was unfortunate enough to have had the experience to know that it was something to fear, when he spent a year locked in a tomb living what most would only consider a nightmare. And he didn’t even have the ability to die. He looked towards the fire as the memory washed over him, unbidden and unwanted but unstoppable. He could feel his mind drifting. He could feel his hands trying to claw away at the memory, as if it had a physical form he could contend with.

No — dark, enclosed spaces was not something he would wish on anyone. He supressed a shudder that tried to crawl up his spine, and he could almost feel the wood on his back and the lid on his face –

“If it’ll be too much of an inconvenience…” he could hear Tav say, though her voice sounded muffled and far away. He could feel the light touch of her hand on his arm, and it felt like a beacon he could use to return to the present to, “it’s okay, I just thought I’d try.”

“No, no,” he answered, trying to pull his mind back into his body, coaxing it to want to feel her touch, to feel the breeze that was real. Absently, he added, “I’m a marvellous teacher, darling — there will be no one better to teach you.” That part was true. He turned to look at her and patted her hand, which she then pulled away to wrap back around her robe. It seemed he was back. She looked at him with concern, but said nothing. He was grateful. “But I would like something for… compensation,” he said, somewhat suggestively, slipping into a comfortable and familiar mask.

May as well use the opportunity to push The Plan along.

Her eyebrows shot up. The whole of her face lit up, which was a pleasant twist from the night’s sullen mood. She seemed pleased and partly excited, even despite the prospect of needing to recompense him. “Of course!” she said, louder than she probably meant to as she continued in a lower tone that was no less excited, “That’s absolutely fine. I can, um,” she paused, hummed, and pursed her lips. Her eyes, dark and sparkling in the vicinity of the campfire, wandered to the side as she retreated into her thoughts in search of ideas. Was she aware that it was a tell of hers? He has been trying to figure out if there were stages to the eye rolling that revealed the progress of her thoughts. “I can… do your chores for a tenday if you want?”

“A month,” he countered, before he realised that this was not part of The Plan. Well, surely his tutelage was worth more than one measly tenday anyway?

She raised an eyebrow at him but the smile that spread across her mouth betrayed amusement. Her smiles always started crooked, favouring one side before evening out. It seemed her mood had done a complete shift from sullen to delighted. “Melon, you drive a hard bargain! Two tendays.”

“Three tendays, darling,” he teased.

“Two tendays.”

It was amusing that she didn’t call him out, given ‘a month’ and ‘three tendays’ were the same, but he chalked it up to her not noticing. He huffed at her, “that is not how bargaining works, you are horrendous at this.”

The irony was not missed on him that she had done the exact same thing – making the exact same offer for his same offer. Maybe she did get it, after all?

She muffled a laugh and nudged him with her shoulder. He let her jostle him. “What do you want me to do, offer two and a half tendays? Come on, Astarion, be serious! How about…” she breathed in through her teeth as she scanned her brain for another bargaining chip to up the ante with, her eyes now wandering from the top to the right in a smooth curve. She gasped and clapped her hands, pointing at him as an idea came to mind, “I can do your laundry for you,” she said soft and singsong, her nose scrunching up as she made that impish face that haunted his sweetest dreams. “I know you hate doing laundry.”

Oooh. He does — he hates the scrubbing, because it makes his hands pruney and ugly afterwards. And his laundry always took forever — he seemed to always get blood on his clothes, unlike someone like Gale who had to steer clear of bodies and was more effective from a distance. He marvelled at the unfairness of it — the wizard probably didn’t have to deal with bloodstains as much as he did, and he probably had some secret laundry spell to make what little work he has to do even easier. Boo.

“Tempting,” he said, not wanting to admit she’d found a really effective bargaining chip. “Now, darling, that’s on top of the chores, isn’t it?”

She studied his face with the ghost of a grin and squinted eyes. He kept his eyes on her, not one to lose a staring contest. Her eyes flickered between his, and she must have found whatever it was she was looking for, because she nodded and shrugged, “sure, I’ll do your laundry with mine in addition to doing your chores. For two tendays.” Tav stuck her hand out towards him — it seemed she thought she’d gotten herself a favourable deal, though Astarion thought the deal was most advantageous to him. A couple of lessons for two weeks of no chores and no laundry?

“Shake on it?” She offered, before her fingers delicately curled into a loose fist, cancelling the proffered handshake, “or would you rather draft something up, Mr Magistrate?”

He scoffed, before looking around his tent behind him for a scrap of paper. He had a quill and inkpot ready nearby, but paper was harder to find. “I think I would like it in writing if you don’t mind,” he teased, as she laughed breathily, “given your less-than-stellar memory, you’ll probably stiff me of the tuition.”

“I would never!” She said, pretending to be insulted. She leaned back into the pillows as she watched him, amused as his search turned up fruitless. She seemed much more relaxed now than when the night started. “No dice?” she teased, useless as she was, lounging on his pillows with a cheeky smile on her face.

He gave her what he hoped was a withering look. “No, darling. Surprisingly my mobile office doesn’t have a dedicated place to store paper, you see.”

She pointed at his book, still sitting at his lap, forgotten. “What about the back of that?”

Astarion glanced down at the book he was reading. He was almost embarrassed to be caught completely unawares while reading a Tenebrux Morrow book, like a child sneakily reading past bedtime, but Tav didn’t seem to care. He felt his nose wrinkle at the idea of vandalising a book, even a non-scholastic one.

“Why, darling, that’s borderline sacrilegious.”

“To whom?” She asked, as she reached her hand out for it, upturned and patient. “I wasn’t aware books were under the protection of any particular god.”

“To me,” he clarified, though he handed the book over anyway. “Don’t write on the cover.”

Tav had the audacity to look scandalised and insulted for the second time that night. “Excuse me,” she made a show of daintily opening the back cover to reveal a blank endpaper. She tapped a finger against the surface, “I’m not some kind of savage idiot. I was thinking of writing it on this bit.”

“That’ll have to do,” he said, as he gave her a long-suffering sigh. It was their best option given the situation, even though he wasn’t very fond of the idea. He took the book back from her as he began thinking up what to write. “Years of study, I assume, all to draft up a sham contract.”

“I’ll have you know this contract is legally binding, and very, very serious,” she corrected, as she watched him at work, stretching across his pillows. He racked his brain for old memories – he’d dealt with contracts as a magistrate, he could at least remember that much.

He tried to keep his writing small, neat, and even to fit what we could of what was important — the parties involved, the watered-down terms and conditions. He even asked her about what they should do if someone broke their promise (‘upon breach of contract, the party that fails to fulfill their side of the agreement shall compensate the other party by setting up the other party’s tent at the next campsite’).

And to her credit, she did take it seriously, nodding solemnly as she read lines of text as he came up with them. She barely made changes or gave input, trusting the majority of the process to him. At the end of it he drew up two lines, pleased with the result of their contract which had taken up both sides of the end page and inside cover.

She let out a big yawn as she pulled her legs towards her chest. She wrapped her arms around them.

“Oh, dear – apologies for boring you,” he joked. She waved him off.

“I’m sorry, it’s not you – your pillows are so comfortable and the fire is so nice,” she muttered, as she rested her chin on her knees to watch the fire. She was fighting to stay awake – he could tell, seeing how heavy her eyes were getting. He watched a few slow blinks.

“We’ll let this dry,” he said, as he watched rub at the tip of her nose. “Now, darling, I’m just checking again that you are of sound mind, and you are not doing this under duress.”

Another yawn. With one eye shut, Tav leaned her left temple against her knees, looking at him. She hummed. She gave a thumbs up.

“I guess that will have to do,” he sighed, as he looked down at the makeshift contract and signed ‘Astarion Ancunín’. “If I were a devil you would be trapped forever, love; you really need to read what you’re signing.”

Signing his name felt foreign to him, but there was a twinge of familiarity in the action. He couldn’t remember the last time he had to sign a legal document – slaves couldn’t own things, he reminded himself, but he found his hand signed with a flourish. He watched as the ink sunk into the fibre of the paper before he passed it to her.

“You have a lovely name,” was all she said, as she took the book and the quill and signed her name without hesitation. “I trust you.”

What a stupid statement. One should always check what they are agreeing to before signing — families have betrayed each other for less, and not even love can withstand greed. Astarion was reminded of Tav’s naïveté, and he was grateful to the gods that she’d never run into a particularly exploitative fey or cambion. She returned the book to him and looked at her signature – it was simple, with no flourishes unlike his. She only signed her first name.

When another yawn made its way out of her, he ushered her away. “Go, my dear,” he said, as she got back up and rubbed her eyes. He kept the book open in his lap, not wanting the ink to smudge on his hard work. “You need all the beauty sleep you can get.”

“Of course,” she said, as she brushed dirt off her clothes, looking down at him. Her eyes glanced at his pillows, before she pouted and said, “we can’t all be so lucky like you.”

He scoffed. “I know. How unfortunate.”

“Goodnight, Melon.”

“Goodnight, Tav.”

As she walked off to her tent, he tended to the book, the inkpot, and the quill. He kept an ear out for her movements – a light tumbling, some shuffling, and then silence. Once he could make out her light snoring, he called out, “sorry, Halsin, you can come out now.”

Halsin gave Astarion a sheepish smile as he emerged from his tent, wide awake and equipped with his own book. “I’m sorry, friend, but I did not want to interrupt your courtship.”

Astarion sputtered. What? “I’m afraid you are sorely mistaken — that was nothing but a professional interaction, my friend.”

The Druid shrugged as he nodded, “Ah, of course,” he said, his deep voice tinged with amusement. “Apologies. Go, rest - I’ll take over the watch, now.”

He straightened out the rest of his things before he slid into his tent and laid on his bedroll, barely kicking his shoes off as he went. Looking up at the canvas ceiling of his humble tent, waiting for his nerves to calm down before he attempted to trance. The contract, carefully crafted at the end pages of a copy of Tenebrux Morrow, was on the bedroll next to him — the safest place he could think of.

As Astarion closed his eyes to begin his meditation he thought Tav silly for taking on such a time-consuming method of repayment — with some bitterness in the edges of his thoughts, he thought, ‘I would have just offered sex for it.’

He was soon out like a light.

The first lesson, Astarion decided, would have to be on the tools of the trade. He’d grabbed a spare lockpicking set from the group chest, opened it to check all the contents were within, and rolled it back up.

He turned to find Wyll standing behind him. “Good morning, Astarion,” he greeted as he reached for the lid of group chest. He stepped to the side to let the younger man get through. “How are you this fine day?”

“Just tickety-boo,” he replied, cheerful and without an ounce of sarcasm. He was feeling quite motivated, spending his morning since waking coming up with a lesson plan for Tav. “How did you sleep?”

“Well enough,” the warlock replied as he studied a few of the blades they stowed away. He picked one, tested its heft, and looked down the blade’s edge. “Could use a sharpen, this one. I may have to borrow Lae’zel’s grindstone. Anyway, I thought I heard you and Tav having a chat last night.”

“Yes, she did come out to ask for a favour,” he affirmed, as Wyll wrapped the bundle of spare blades back up to store. He laid the bundle down into the chest like a father would a sleeping baby into its crib, “I didn’t think we were too loud, darling - apologies if we woke you.”

Wyll waved him off with a kind smile, “No, no, my friend, it’s fine. It got too warm for me and that woke me up. I thought I heard her laughing. We were very worried about her last night, so it was like hearing music. I guess that trap shook her up real bad.”

Astarion wasn’t sure how much he could divulge. The two of them began their treks back to their destinations in camp together. “Yes, it did,” he sighed, recalling the uncharacteristic way Tav shrunk into herself as she admitted her fear of the dark. “Well, it can’t be helped.”

The Blade of Frontiers put a hand on his shoulder as he prepared to head to Lae’zel and her ever moving grindstone. His hand was warm, and his grip solid. Astarion would have fallen for Wyll were he still innocent of the pain in the world. “Well, I’m glad you could give her comfort, my friend.”

The vampire watched him leave and wave to Lae’zel who eyed his sword with hungry interest. It wasn’t a designated chore in camp, but the githyanki had taken it upon herself to maintain the camp’s weapons. She quickly reached out for the sword to study the blade, barely acknowledging the man who had brought it and just as she started talking at Wyll about it Astarion turned to look for his new student.

He found her in the company of Shadowheart — she was braiding the cleric’s hair as the two of them had a chat about hair care in the wilderness. Tav sat on a tiny stool while the other woman sat on the ground in front of her, filing her nails. As he approached, the Sharran glanced over and said, “you’ll have to wait your turn, I’m afraid.”

“Star!” Tav greeted, cheerfully and bright as the day, the complete opposite to the raven-haired girl in front of her. Maybe it was in comparison to Shadowheart’s surliness that made Tav shine brighter the sun. “Good morning!”

“Darling, you seem awfully perky,” he joked, as he stood to watch them. He had never had anyone greet him ‘good morning’ with as much gusto as Tav, and she did it consistently, even when the mornings were less than ideal. Even Karlach couldn’t keep up with the enthusiasm every day, with some mornings where she came to life slower than usual. Tav was just happy to be alive. “For someone who didn’t get much sleep.”

“Gross,” Shadowheart chimed immediately, looking up at him with her usual flat expression. Sometimes Astarion liked to imagine her large, blunt fringe was just a very, very large monobrow, given her natural levelness. “Do you mind? I’m existing here. I don’t really want to be hearing about your sex life, thank you.”

Tav gasped, and accidentally tugged at a section of braid too hard, sending Shadowheart jolting back with outstretched arms. Astarion found it comical. “Sorry,” she said, as she rubbed at the cleric’s scalp to soothe it, “sorry, it’s not that.”

“Oh?” Shadowheart now switched targets — the little turd always went for the easier ones, never the type to work someone down like him, “Well, care to explain what it was, then?”

“I couldn’t sleep last night so I had a chat with Astarion,” she explained simply, as she continued braiding. She was getting to the end of Shadowheart’s long locks and began to gesture for the chain to be wrapped around it and woven between sections. “It’s nothing, really. I just asked him to show me how to pick locks, so if we ever end up in jail, we can at least have more than one person who can get us out. Is that comfortable?”

Shadowheart gave her head a tentative wobble and a bob, as she was wont to do when she was feeling particularly impassioned, and she nodded, clanging lightly as she did so.

“Yes; it’s perfect, thank you.” The cleric then frowned, staring ahead again at Tav’s instruction. The crown was slid up the braid and secured to the top of her head. The Sharran made slight adjustments for comfort. She hummed, before turning to Astarion as she continued to prod at the hairpiece. “Wouldn’t it be better to teach someone like Lae’zel? Since you two are always together anyway.”

“That’s not true,” Tav argued, as Astarion said, “I don’t just take on any student, darling.”

Shadowheart shot Astarion a look, before she turned to Tav, her eyebrows climbing beneath her large fringe. The “holy woman” was probably the biggest gossip at camp, ahead of Astarion – it seemed, unlike some other religions, Shar had no rules against gossiping. Or perhaps it was their elven heritage that made them so? Plied with wine, no one’s secrets were safe from revelation by her — and she looked like she just spotted one. She got up smoothly and offered a hand out to Tav, who got up from the stool with a groan about her knees.

“Oh, this is a weird mating ritual then,” she opined simply, laughing at her friend’s expression. “Well, don’t let me get in the way of it,” she said, as she waved them away, heading towards the rest of the party looking very much like a cat that just got the canary in a compromising position with another bird, “I’m going to go check on breakfast.”

Tav brushed off the dust from her lap, placing Shadowheart’s prized hairbrush on the table outside. “Why wouldn’t she believe me?”

“It was a slightly suggestive conversation, darling,” he said, as he reminded her, “I told her you didn’t get much sleep, you told her I was showing you how to pick locks.”

She gasped, her hands flying to her mouth. “Oh!” She blushed as she looked at anything but him. He didn’t think it was even that scandalous, but apparently she did. “Oh dear, I guess that does sound a bit suggestive. Sorry about that, I hope it didn’t make you uncomfortable.”

“No, love, I’m fine.”

“Well,” she let out a grateful sigh, turning back to him now with only the suggestion of a blush remaining, “how can I help you today?”

He raised the lockpicking set to show her, giving it a slight shake for emphasis. “I thought you may want your first lesson, my dear. We’ll be looking at the tools of the trade,” he gestured towards his tent, “would you rather yours, or mine?”

She turned deep red again. “Huh?”

“We wouldn’t want to be doing this in Shadowheart’s tent, now, would we, darling?” He purred, as he enjoyed how flustered she was getting.

She shook her head clear. “Hah,” she laughed weakly, “maybe I’m not as awake as I thought, huh. Anyway, sure — your tent has the nice pillows, and I haven’t made my bedroll, so we’ll go to yours.”

“Good choice.”

The first lesson was brief, but it went well. He gave her a run-down of all the tools in the kit, their primary uses, and he pointed out the essential, most versatile picks. She asked questions here and there, but for the most part she was the most attentive little student, looking intent and determined to learn. He could almost see the gears in her head working overtime, make out the smoke coming out of her ears. He left her to familiarise herself with the lockpick set as he got up at Gale’s invitation to go collect firewood for the night. She gave him a thumbs up as she pointed at each pick and said its name out loud.

It was when he got halfway into the forest that he realised he had just given her a free lesson by doing his own chores.

Astarion sighed as he began to collect kindling. No sense in going back now.

The next lesson was mostly an addendum to the previous — two days after he’d left her to get cozy with the arsenal of tools, he’d tested her on their names and which of them would be most useful if she could only stuff three down a corset at a party. He was surprised to find that she remembered most of the pick names, and her selection was also quite good. He wasn’t the educator type, but he was proud of how well his little student was doing. He told her just as much and she just glowed at the praise.

“You really think so?” Tav asked, as he buttered her up by saying she may have a knack for thievery after all, “I’m surprised I haven’t made you want to bash your head against a wall!”

“Oh, darling — it’s not that serious,” he said, as they put the picks away to finish up for the night. He rolled the kit up and handed it over to her. She tucked it under her armpit. “You’re a very attentive student.”

“Thanks, Star,” she said with a soft smile, wringing her hands together. There was a furrow on her brow. “My old teachers used to tell me I was a special kind of dim.”

“Oh, my sweet, maybe it was just that they weren’t good teachers at all,” he said, “I didn’t find you any dimmer than most, but maybe you were like me and just hated the more boring topics.”

“Of course! My mum always said my strengths must lie in other things outside of books.”

Astarion didn’t know if he should be sad for her or if he should laugh. He decided on neither – At least she hadn’t realised that her mum’s aspiration was insulting towards her.

Not that he had a wealth of experience to refer to, but Astarion really did think she wasn’t that bad of a student. She did have confidence issues, where she would doubt herself and glance over at him before she gave her answers, most of which were correct. With that tidbit revealed, he could tell he needed to add the extra step of rebuilding her interest in learning and her confidence in her own abilities.

“Well, at least I’m teaching you something practical,” he offered, trying to reassure her. “Those old books couldn’t get you out of a maze unless you stacked them up to stand on them, and in a pinch the best use for them would be kindling.”

Gale would have a conniption if he heard them.

As Tav stood to leave, thanking him for the night’s lesson once more, he placed a hand on her shoulder to stop her. She gave him a surprised look, eyes wide with some concern. “What’s up, Melon?”

He handed her his laundry, folded neatly in a wicker basket. It was odd – knowing he didn’t have to do his own laundry, he threw himself into battles with little regard for the blood. He didn’t even cuss when he slipped on a puddle of guts. He gave her a grin, showing a hint of fang. “Don’t forget these, darling.”

The next lesson involved practice. Astarion was a more hands-on teacher, after all. He’d placed a medium-sized chest in front of Tav, once dinner was finished and once she’d finished washing up. He gave the top of the chest a confident pat. “Your first chest,” he said, as he gave the wood a slight caress. She looked at the box in a mix of anticipation and nerves.

“Darling,” he called softly, as she bit her bottom lip worryingly, lowering herself to reach the lock. “You learn this best with practice. Remember that. Not out of a book.”

She looked up at him from where she knelt in front of the chest, her eyes large and slightly quivering. Had he said the wrong thing?

Her face melted into a smile. “Practice,” she nodded, before she took in a deep breath with her eyes closed. She let the breath out slowly – a calming exercise she liked to do before she took aim at most targets, moments before their deaths. Despite her excitable demeanour she was very good at changing course. “Alright! Let’s get cracking.”

Despite his initial promise, a book was involved — but only to explain the internal mechanisms of a lock. Kneeling next to her, he pointed at the diagrams of springs and barrels and explained how they all connected — how keys worked, how locks worked, and how one can beat a lock without the requisite key. How each pick would interact with locks. Patiently, he answered her questions and explained the motions required and the tactile sensations she would need to feel out for. Once she had a working understanding of the goal at hand, he declared her ready to try.

He positioned her in front of him, and with his arms wrapped around her from behind, he took her hands in his and guided her through her first lockpicking experience. With the tension wrench in place, he let her pick her tool of choice. Hesitantly, she selected a hook pick. She turned to him for approval, still placed in front of him.

She was entirely too close. The scent of her hair and the blood running through her veins filled his senses. He reminded himself to try and feed tonight. It was a little distracting, but he pushed through – he had a job to do.

“Which one is that, darling?”

“The hook pick…?” she asked, rather than answered. She tilted her head in question.

“Yes, and?” He tried to coax her towards the answer with his eyes, and she tried to read his face before she replied.

“It’s… the best one we can use for most chests?”

“Are you asking me, or telling me?”

“I’m… telling you,” she said, as she straightened up. She hummed, and took a deep breath in.

“Then try again, darling, and convince me this time.”

“This is a hook pick, and this works best for most chests,” she said, more confidently, as she kept her eyes trained to the side.

He smiled, “Correct,” he said, as she grinned with pride and turned ahead again. He gestured towards the tension wrench, and she took hold of it, before she leaned forward to insert the hook into the keyhole. Her backside rubbed against his crotch.

He ignored it.

“Okay,” he started, lowering his voice as he guided her hand. “This is very delicate, so it’s best to pay as much attention as possible. Can you do that, my sweet?”

“Yes,” she said, her confident voice carried over from the previous question. She was staring at the lock as if it were a snake about to strike – he swore she was even holding her breath. He rubbed his thumb over her clenched fists, reminding her to relax. He felt her ease in his arms, and softly she added, “Yep.”

“Okay. Now, slowly so we don’t snap the pick,” he inserted the tool into the keyhole, finding the first tumbler and hooking it up with the hook end of the pick. “It can be a tight squeeze and you have to get your angles right, so just keep it steady.” He gave it a light flick, slowly pushing it up in search of the threshold he knew wouldn’t be far. “Can you feel that?” He asked, whispering close to her ear for fear that she would miss the telltale click of a barrel locking in place.

He did, and he wasn’t even directly holding the pick. Tav gasped, whispering back urgently, “yes.”

“Good girl,” he crooned, “now, on to the next one, slowly. You don’t have to get them all right the first pass through, you can come back to them to test them out.”

This would be a prime time to act on The Plan — while she had her backside against his crotch and her scent all over him, with his body and hands over hers and his low voice in her ear. The position was so undeniably intimate and very inappropriate, but Astarion was surprised to find he didn’t feel sexual about it at all. Tav was focused, her attention 100 per cent on the lock she was determined to defeat, and he was focused on keeping her calm and level-headed so as to avoid frustration from overwhelming her. He didn’t want to act on The Plan. He wanted her to learn.

She was deep in focus when Shadowheart passed by. “Oh, dear — foreplay just out in the open?” She joked, as she walked past with her nightly goblet of wine, headed to her tent. Thankfully she was unable to cut through Tav’s concentration. “If this is how you do your lockpicking lessons then maybe I shouldn’t sign up.”

Astarion flipped her off, letting Tav’s hand go momentarily. The cleric let out an uncharacteristic cackle.

He felt the final tumbler click in place, and immediately Tav froze and held her breath. He could feel her buzzing with excitement – he had to stop her before she broke the pick and undid their hard work. “Okay,” he said, “we’re near the end of it but don’t get too excited just yet, darling. Keep your hand very steady. It’s time to turn it but slowly, like you would a very fragile key. You don’t want to break your pick now,” he guided her again, and with her breath still held she unlocked her first chest via thievery.

Before she could even open the chest she dropped the pick and the wrench and turned to Astarion, who was forced to pull back to avoid being whipped by her hair. “Did you see that, Star? I did it!” She was abuzz with a frantic energy, and she looked like she was vibrating from excitement and sheer glee. She squealed, spinning to her knees to face him, taking his hands in hers and doing an awkward little dance with them. “I did it!”

From across the camp, with her attention piqued, Karlach yelled out, “Woo! Good job, Soldier!”

“Well done, darling,” he said, as he beamed with pride. Her excitement was infectious, but she’d yet to see the best part. He gestured towards the chest with an impish expression, “why don’t you check and see your reward?”

Excitedly, she threw the lid open and peered in, only to give an exaggerated groan.

A pile of laundry awaited within.

Astarion had surprised her with another box again, a few days later. With Tav doing his chores he had time to do as he pleased and he had time to prepare materials for her. He found that he actually enjoyed trying to come up with little challenges for her, excited to see her proud grin. Plus, her reaction to her previous ‘reward’ tickled him, so he hoped to do it again.

With her doing his chores some nights were write offs, and he would let her tend to her needs instead of practicing. Some nights he would get so bored he would sneakily take on one of his own chores without telling her. Tonight, however, their nights off aligned. And with a new contraption he was excited to test, he sought her out, determined to dump the remainder of the knowledge she would need for her basic lockpicking skills tonight.

“Hello, darling,” he greeted, watching her as she brushed her fingers through her damp hair, wringing out the excess water with a quick squeeze. “Ready to practice some thievery?”

“Absolutely,” she smiled, rising to her feet and throwing her still damp hair into a haphazard bun that tipped over one side. She ducked into her tent and emerged with a wicker basket, with his clothes clean and folded. “I’ve got your laundry here, too.”

“You shouldn’t put your hair up while it’s still wet, darling,” he chastised her, as he led her across the camp to a new chest placed squarely at the centre of his outside rug. She placed his laundry down by the entryway of his tent and he took it inside.

“I know,” she said, exasperated, “but I just need it off my back. And I didn’t want to get your front wet.”

“Why would I get wet?” he asked, upset about the thought.

“If you sit behind me?” Tav gave him a confused look, “Aren’t you going to, this time?”

“Well, I thought it best for you to practice on your own,” he shrugged, “but if you’d like a cuddle…”

She laughed, waving his flirtations away. “No, no,” she smiled at the box, taking the lock in hand and examining it, like she’d observed him doing out in the field. She’d been more observant of his lockpicking recently, and when time permitted, he would tell her about the types of locks they ran into. He wasn’t sure what information exactly she was gleaning from it this time, but he said nothing. He poured himself a goblet of wine but offered her none. “I think I can do this one myself.”

“I think so too,” he said, as he sat on top of the chest to watch her. He crossed one leg over the other, leaning on the chest with one arm. “You’ll find it’s similar to the first one,” he let out his signature giggle, “I would know, I picked them both.”

She made relatively quick work of the first box — obviously not at his speed, but he didn’t even have time to get comfortable, so it was impressive nonetheless given she didn’t really have much experience with it. Such was his burden to bear as a fantastic teacher, he supposed. She undid the lock while eyeing him suspiciously.

“Darling, I haven’t put a cursed skeleton in there, if that’s what you’re afraid of,” he joked, and she frowned at him while she leaned her weight into the box.

She gave the lid a hefty push, keeping her eyes on him as she did so. “No, but I swear if you’ve put your laundry in here again —”

She stopped midway through her threat when she finally spotted the contents of the box. Not his laundry, no. He was a better entertainer than that – he wouldn’t repeat a good joke so soon after, that was a Gale thing to do. She blinked, comically, and her mouth hung open in shock, and Astarion found that her reaction made the extra work worth it for him — he’d been lamenting how much work he was expending on preparing engaging materials for her, but this the memory of her dumbfounded face was reward enough.

She pulled out another box. Locked. She looked up at him.

“Well?” He asked, gesturing to the sizeable box in her hand. He put the lid of the large chest back down. He instructed her to use it as a makeshift table, while he took up one half of it as a seat. “Off you go, then, darling. Do mind your pick this time.”

It was the first time she’d run into this type of lock, but he’d told her about it before. With the only guidance provided being which pick would be best, he let her test it out, reminding her that the mechanics of it all remained the same. “Patience, my sweet,” he said. So slowly and surely, she worked on the lock, her face in grave concentration. Occasionally when he saw her frown deepen to a level beyond mere focus, he would chime in to remind her that she was more than capable of besting it, given she was a natural with the first lock. It worked to keep the frustration at bay.

A few minutes of silence later, she let out a gasp as she turned the lock open. She kept the lid shut, looking up at him again. “Is it going to be another box?” She asked excitedly, with a grin on her lips. She lifted the lid slightly, but not enough to see in just yet.

“Only one way to find out,” he answered, and she squealed with delight to find a smaller box within. Ah, he did have her sense of humour pinned down after all. He hasn’t lost his touch at reading people. “A new type of lock on that one, too.” Using his toe, he pointed at a new pick. “Try that one, love. And change your tension wrench.”

Placing the new box on top of the second box (which sat next to Astarion on top of the large chest), Tav began to work on the new lock, hardly giving Astarion a glance for any reassurance. She was too excited to doubt herself – this had turned into a game for her, as he’d intended. He was happy to see her confidence grow — he said less as well, finding that she would mutter the reminders to herself.

You know the basics, Tav; you can do it.

Gale approached them, tilting his head questioningly at the stack of boxes. His task of inventorying their potions temporarily abandoned, losing to his curiosity. “What are you doing?”

“Lockpicking, my wordy wizardly friend,” Astarion answered, as he kept his gaze on Tav’s fingers gently coaxing the tumblers to give way.  Gale let out a light laugh.

“Yes, I can see that much,” he said, “but I suppose what I meant to ask was if you just have a series of nesting boxes in there.”

“Well, I wouldn’t spoil your surprises,” Astarion said, as he poured himself another goblet of wine, his good mood astonishingly not ruined by the wizard’s intrusion, “so best you don’t spoil mine, hm?”

The wizard bowed in apology but stayed in the vicinity, watching Tav at work. When she finally got the lock undone, she nearly ripped the box open to reveal the next one. Gale let out a laugh, and he returned to his inventory work but occasionally kept an eye out.

“Where did you find these?” She asked, as she took out the smaller box and placed it on top of the box she had just defeated. She was building up quite a stack. “Astarion, this is so silly.”

He was surprised she didn’t recognise some of the boxes he’d collected recently – he even used them for field demonstrations, but he supposed he couldn’t expect much from her memory. “Less talk, more picking, please darling,” he said, taking a sip of his wine. There was a lingering smile on his face. This was entertaining to him too.

By the time she’d gotten the boxes stacked to her height she’d gathered an audience. Astarion heard Wyll and Karlach making bets on the total number of boxes she would have by the end, and Lae’zel merely scoffed at the display, but said nothing discouraging of Tav’s attempts. Tav had told her teacher recently that the githyanki had praised her, in her roundabout way, for wanting to learn a skill more useful than their ‘wizard and his reading’. He found that statement most amusing.

Shadowheart sidled up to Astarion with a goblet of her own.

“Well, would you look at that,” she hummed, one arm across her chest, the other upright and holding her goblet by her face, “looks like you’re not a bad teacher after all, Astarion.” She tilted her goblet towards him.

“I will have you know I am excellent,” he said, as he tapped his goblet against hers in a toast.

“She’s learned very quickly,” she praised, as she picked up the bottle Astarion was drinking, examining the label. She hummed, mildly disdainfully, which Astarion ignored — no one can be a snob when the choices were vinegar or vinaigrette. She put it back down and took a conscious sip of her wine.

Another box emerged from the ever-birthing box. Another series of whoops erupted in the air. Even Halsin had now joined in, keeping Scratch and the Owlbear entertained when they got excited over the cheering. “She has,” he affirmed, proudly. “She could use some practice to speed up and I’ve kept a few skills to my chest – I wouldn’t want to not be needed anymore, of course.”

“Heavens forbid,” the cleric said, before moving over to stand alongside Wyll and Karlach, who let her in on their wager.

After two more boxes she was at the last one — he’d saved an intricate blue box for the final one, the smallest he could find, swiped from an abandoned house somewhere. This one, she had never seen before – he made sure to hide it as a surprise. By this point Karlach had lost her bet, and Shadowheart was about to lose hers, which Astarion took some glee in. Tav’s confidence was brimming now, and she moved with greater surety than before, speeding up slightly despite the myriad of new locks she’d been presented with. He marvelled at the change in her. Maybe she was a natural at this after all.

The final lock was picked away and with bated breath she opened it to pull out a pendant. The group, barring Shadowheart, cheered as she turned to present them her hard won reward, and she gave them mock bows as they applauded her. Karlach gave her a quick pat on the back (before she could singe), as did Wyll. Gale resumed his inventorying and Lae’zel went back to oiling her weapons. When the dust settled, only Tav and Astarion remained.

“Thank you, Melon,” she said sweetly, as she admired the pendant, the weight of it resting on her hand. It was on the smaller side, with a ruby inlaid in a simple prong setting. The chain was also quite delicate – it would have been a lovely gift for whoever had owned it, sadly now probably gone. “This is the nicest thing anyone has ever given me. Truly, you have been so wonderful. Could you…?”

He motioned her over and she turned her back to him, her hair now spilled out of the bun at Shadowheart’s insistence to allow it to dry. Carefully, he took the ends of the necklace and locked the clasps together as she held her hair out of the way. She looked down at the pendant sitting between her collarbones, holding it between her thumb and forefinger.

“If only my teachers were as patient as you,” she said, as she turned to take his hands in hers. “Maybe I would have turned out differently.”

He looked down at their joined hands. “Darling,” he said, sincerely, tongue loosened by the wine, “you are perfect, exactly as you are.”

She looked like she was about to cry. Not wanting to deal with emotions heavier than what he was already faced with (and not wanting to have to examine more emotions than he was now pondering) Astarion quickly added, “I’m sure you would have learned better if your teachers were attractive too.”

He was too late to stop the first tear from falling, but at least the rest were held back by her laughter.

“Oh, dear,” he said, as she gleefully turned to him with pride, besting another chest (which he had disarmed before he called her over — it was a little harder to teach trap disarming and he needed to keep some skills to himself), “I may have to pick another class with the way you’re going, my darling.”

“Oh, Melon,” she grinned, as she blew at the ends of her tools before making a show of putting them away in her lock picking kit, “we could always use a backup pick lock.”

Astarion must have made a face before he could school his emotions — Tav laughed as she rose from her kneeling position, her hands automatically reaching out for his arms like she normally did when she was trying to playfully placate Shadowheart or Karlach. He intercepted her hands with his, pushing them away exaggeratedly. “I’m kidding! It’s just beginner’s luck.”

“Luck?” He asked, as he leaned back with a hand to his mouth, looking at her with a raised eyebrow and a catty expression. He purred, “Darling, if you think you just got lucky then maybe we should consider… extending those lessons.”

She shoved him lightly. He let her. “No! I don’t want to do your chores anymore.”

“Oh, my sweet, we can renegotiate the terms,” he said, as he slung an arm over her shoulder to lead her away from the chest she’d yet to empty. He’ll do that later. “You know, I’ve been really enjoying not doing my own laundry…”

#purdle-writes #baldur's gate 3 fanfic #astarion fanfic #astarion x oc #astarion x tav #astarion x female tav #astarion fluff #look my tav is not the smartest but she means well #bg3 fanfiction #astarion x f!tav

[blackjackkent]

There's a bard at the center of the party on a platform. I was surprised Withers didn't get Alfira; sent Hector up to talk to him, and...

"Oh, hello," the man says morosely. "Let me guess. You've got some suggestions about the music choice?"

Hector blinks. Admittedly, he has not been to many parties, but this doesn't seem like the standard attitude. "You seem glum," he says kindly. "I thought bards were meant to be full of pep and joy."

The man sighs dramatically. "I find it hard to summon up the trademark pep these days." He sighs and squints at Hector pointedly. "You have no idea who I am, do you?" He groans. "I thought Withers might have set the stage a little."

"Well," Hector says expectantly, "Go on, then. What's your name?"

"Milil," says the bard gravely. "Though if the lack of song-prayers is anything to go by, that name carries less weight than it used to. I'm washed up, I'm afraid..."

Narrator: [RELIGION] Musical prayers were once offered to Milil, Lord of Song - a minor deity whose worship faded after offending the trickster god Cyric.

Hector's eyes widen. One would think, after all the gods he's met, that it would start losing its shock value, but he just stares blankly for a long moment. Then he inclines his head in a half-bow. [CLERIC] "It's an honor to meet the noble Lord of Song," he says earnestly, "even if I'm no bard."

Milil stares right back at him, and then brightens visibly. "You... you know? You're bloody right! It IS an honor!" he says excitedly. "Finally, the Scribe picks an adventurer of SUBSTANCE! Of CULTURE!" He bounces up on the balls of his feet and looks Hector full in the face. "What can I do you for?"

Hector blinks several times rapidly, suddenly unable to think of the name of a single song. "...Nothing," he says faintly. "Please carry on as you were."

"Fantastical news," Milil says cheerfully, his mood thoroughly rejuvenated. "Carry on I shall!"

#bjk plays baldur's gate 3 #hector carlisle

[pumpkinbirth]

Nyah!!! It is I 🐈 anon!!!! It has been so long!!! I hope you're doing well and today I'm craving for something sweet.

So I saw the post of the pregnant witch and now I cannot help but want to think of a witch who was over due by a week and wants their partner to watch her give birth in the outfit in said picture.

Let the partner do as they please, tease the witch, make the witch birth on all fours as the baby spreads her folds, but keep those panties on.

"Are you comfortable?" you asked, for what had to be the fifth time now. I simply nodded, grinning over my shoulder at you.

You didn't even have to tell me that you wanted to watch me give birth, I could tell just by how you'd been behaving around me. Always stroking my belly, kissing it, asking when my due date was again, and the way you'd been so glum when said due date had come and gone with no baby yet. So when my belly had dropped this morning, I knew I could make it up to you.

Plant magic was as easy as breathing to me, so I'd carefully strung myself up on display for you, my wrists bound together behind me, my legs bent and spread apart, everything on display for you.

Well, almost everything.

You'd once let slip how hot you thought clothing birth was, so of course I had to include it for you, keeping my panties on while getting all trussed up. They'd been small on me before I got pregnant, so now they clung very tightly to me, the lips of my cunt almost visible through them.

It was all worth it to see how much you were already loving it, running your hands over my bound body, over my overdue swell, over my covered yet spread pussy. Our enjoyment was only getting started, and I exhaled slowly as I felt my belly tightening. "O-okay, here we go...u-uhnn..." I moaned quietly, the contraction now fully encircling my belly, pressure building and building, until dissipating. All the while your hands were firmly planted on my belly, feeling as much of it with me as you could. Once it had passed I glanced over my shoulder at you, chuckling at how flushed and aroused you were just from one contraction.

You were in for a treat.

Again I contracted, and again you worshiped my laboring form, over and over for what felt like hours. Not that I minded, especially not when you'd moved your mouth to my clothed pussy, running your tongue over my soaked, covered folds as my body crept closer and closer to finally giving birth. Your tongue felt so good, even through the fabric, that I didn't notice the mounting pressure over my impending orgasm. The faint pop from within gave it away, though, and my eyes widened as I felt my waters gush heavily and hotly from me, absolutely soaking you. Incredibly this didn't stop you, and I wailed with overwhelming pleasure as you continued lavishing my cunt with your mouth, my waters still dripping messily.

"O-ohh fuck, it's coming, it's moving..." I managed to breathe, manifesting more vines to keep myself steady for what was to come. You trailed kisses up the length of my back, coming to stop at the nape of my neck, panting hotly against my flesh.

"Fuck, you're so good for me, d'you know that?"

Your praise made me chuckle, briefly distracting me until I felt a familiar pressure building, more intense now that my waters had broken. Stepping back you gazed intently at my cunt, watching as, with every contraction and push, something began to strain against the ruined fabric of my panties. Inch by inch I pushed our baby's head out, letting out a victorious moan as I fully crowned into my panties. Not wanting to lose the momentum I'd built, I fully bore down into the next contraction, and your eyes widened as the fabric bagged out even further, another hot torrent of fluid soaking it as I finally gave birth.

#pumpkin answers #pumpkin writes #pregnancy kink #labor kink #birth kink #clothing birth #🐈 anon

[jahayla-parker]

In Time : Tom Holland x Reader

Chapter 4

2k wc , click here for warnings and other chapters

Y/n counted down the steps until she reached her floor as she made her way back to her apartment. She was feeling guilty because she knew she should be pleased and grateful that Ryan had taken her on another date so soon after their last one they’d had just days before. And to be fair, she was appreciative of that change. But, she couldn’t help but feel glum about the way Ryan acted on the date. Yet again, she felt like she was being ignored the whole time. She had gone above and beyond with her outfit, hair, and makeup, and was trying to be as good of a girlfriend as possible. Yet, Ryan hardly paid her any mind. In fact, if she was brutally honest, it seemed like he felt obligated to be taking her out again. But, at least he was doing it; right? Surely, she should be grateful and not complain about such minute details .. right? Nevertheless, y/n couldn’t wait to just get home and spend time with Tom. Things were different with him; in a good great way. When she was with Tom, it didn’t matter what they were doing. Even though it was just as friends, Tom made her feel like he actually wanted to spend time with her. Far from the way Ryan made her feel.

Y/n grinned to herself while Tom continued his usual commentary as they watched yet another movie together. This was precisely what she’d longed for after her date with Ryan. She felt accepted and that Tom wanted her there. He could have watched the movie alone, but he’d invited her to join him. And his commentary throughout the movie, as usual, showed he wanted to experience the movie with her.

“Is it difficult?” Y/n asked quietly after Tom commented on how the actors in the current scene had to redo the scene multiple times. It was a stereotypical slow-dancing scene between the main characters.

Tom paused the film and slowly shifted until he was facing y/n directly. “Shooting the slow dance?” He asked. He had a sinking feeling he knew what y/n was asking, and why… but, he hoped he was wrong.

Y/n nodded. She slowly tore her gaze away from the paused screen to meet Tom’s delicate gaze.

“It’s no different than slow dancing in general,” Tom commented.

Y/n nodded faintly. She turned her head back to the television to wait for Tom to resume the movie.

Tom noticed y/n’s nerves. He saw the way she was picking at her cuticles, her darting and unfocused eyes, the faint lip bite, etc. He’d been correct in his suspicions, hadn’t he? Y/n didn’t know how to slow dance…? “Y/n, love, have you.. ,” he halted, uncertain how to ask it nicely without potentially upsetting her further. “You’ve never slow danced with anyone?” Tom wondered, his voice silky soft.

Y/n shook her head. She took a nervous breath before turning back to face Tom. She could trust Tom with this; he’d not judged her over anything yet. It wasn’t something she liked to talk about as even playful joking from Karina about it hurt. It wasn’t like she didn’t want to slow dance with someone, she just hadn’t had the opportunity. “Uhh, I went with a group of friends to my school dances,” y/n began quietly. She shrugged, looking at her lap.

“And… Ryan..,” Tom cleared his throat quietly, the name not tasting right. “Ryan never took you out dancing? Or, danced with you at a wedding?” He asked.

Y/n choked out a humorless laugh. “He doesn’t like dancing, he says he refuses to embarrass himself,” she commented.

Tom breathed his annoyance out through his nose as he listened to y/n’s response. “It doesn’t have to be in public,” he stated hesitantly, frustrated Ryan had once again not caught on to something y/n clearly wanted.

“Right?” Y/n asked bitterly. She shook her head and sighed, visibly calming herself down. “I don’t know, it’s just not something he wants to do, I guess,” she shrugged. “It-it’s fine,” she commented, turning back to the TV.

“No... It’s not,” Tom whispered, voice only barely audible ever to himself. He reluctantly resumed the movie. But instead of watching the rest of the scene, he watched y/n’s reaction to it. He watched the way her eyes lit up slightly, a small smile on her lips as the couple danced. He watched the way her nervous fidgeting stopped. He watched the way she relaxed and watched admirably. It was so painfully obvious how interested y/n was in it, how much she wanted to live out/act out that activity. It was such a simple want to meet, and yet Ryan didn’t bother.

Tom smiled nervously to himself as an idea formed in his mind. He pulled out his iPhone and connected it to y/n’s wireless speakers. He paused the movie yet again. When y/n gazed over at him in confusion, Tom took a deep breath and smiled warmly at her. He pressed play and Kiss Me by Ed Sheeran (an artist and song that Tom knew was one of y/n’s favorites) began to play melodiously through the speakers. Tom anxiously sauntered over and held his hand out for y/n, encouraging her to dance with him.

Y/n stared at Tom hesitantly. But, soon the slow dance from the movie, alongside a jumble of other slow dances she’d witnessed but not been offered to participate in, played in her mind. She smiled shyly as she accepted Tom’s hand and rose to her feet.

“You’re doing great, love,” Tom encouragingly whispered as he and y/n slowly danced around the living room.

“I have no idea what I’m doing,” y/n mumbled quietly as she hid her face in Tom’s shoulder.

Tom smiled to himself. He kept one hand in y/n’s, but the other one tenderly moved some of her hair from where it had fallen and covered her face so he could see her eyes. “No one would know,” He encouraged kindly, “you’re a natural”. Truthfully, she was a bit stiff, so perhaps she wasn’t a natural per se. But, to Tom, the moment was perfect. And he hoped it was for y/n too.

“How was your date with Ryan?” Tom forced himself to ask as he stared down at y/n. Her eyes were closed as she rested against him while they danced. Her nose was on his collarbone and he could feel every little breath that came and went; nearly causing bumps to rise on his warm skin. Meaning he felt it when her breathing momentarily hitched after hearing his question.

Y/n felt herself tense briefly at Tom’s question. She intentionally relaxed her muscles and tried to focus on the positives. Besides, Tom was enjoying the night with her, she didn’t need to bother him with her boyfriend drama. “It was good,” y/n eventually answered.

Tom easily picked up on y/n’s reaction. Worry formed inside him when she visibly tensed. He cautiously swayed her to the beat as he prepared himself for the next question. “Did something happen?” He asked, hand resting on her lower back as she lifted her head to look at him.

“Are you just asking because you feel obligated, or-?” Y/n inquired in a hushed tone.

Tom shook his head. “I genuinely want to know, y/n,” he promised. “You seem… at least… slightly upset,” he hesitantly pointed out.

Y/n hummed sadly. “I shouldn’t complain,” she commented, guilt audible in her voice. “But, he… he was on his phone for all but maybe five minutes the whole date,” y/n confessed shyly, embarrassed. She clearly couldn’t keep her boyfriend’s interest. “I don’t… I feel like he isn’t really interested in me anymore, I don’t know what I did,” she whispered morosely.

Tom gritted his teeth. How could Ryan not be interested in y/n? She was outstanding. How could he make her upset and not care, much less make her doubt herself and take the blame for his idiotic behaviors? Focusing on the fact that it was just him and y/n right now and he wasn’t upset with her, he calmed himself. It took him a moment to find the right way to ask the question that had long been on his mind, but felt even more pressing now. “It’s not you,” Tom promised, thumb rubbing her lower back delicately. “But… can I ask you something, love?” When y/n nodded and gazed up into his eyes, he unconsciously pulled her closer ever so slightly. “Why are you with Ryan?” Tom asked breathily.

Y/n blinked slowly up at Tom. She hadn’t been expecting that question. But, perhaps she should’ve. After all, she’d just finished talking shit about her boyfriend over nothing; it was a natural question. “We were set up on a blind date,” she began with a shrug. She looked down, eyes landing on Tom’s clothed chest given their close proximity. “He.. He’s a good guy,” she weakly argued, lifting her gaze back up, “even if it doesn’t always seem that way”.

Tom bit the inside of his lip as he stared at the woman before him. She was so clearly in denial about Ryan. Yet, what pained him the most was that she didn’t realize she deserved far better.

“Why do you ask?” Y/n questioned timidly. The look in Tom’s typically comforting auburn eyes told her that maybe there was more to him asking the question than she initially thought.

Tom tsked lightly. It should be obvious. He asked because Ryan didn’t treat her well and as such, he wanted to know why she was still putting up with him. “Not to be too bold,” he began with a hushed nervous laugh. “But, love, if it were me”, he shook his head in disbelief. “I assure you, I wouldn't be on my phone,” Tom promised. “Especially when there's a radiantly beautiful woman sitting across from me”.

Y/n swallowed thickly. She looked away from Tom as she felt her eyes prickle with tears. She hadn’t ever heard such a compliment from her actual boyfriend, Ryan. Not to mention, the way Tom was looking at her made her chest flutter in ways it shouldn’t.

Tom took y/n’s lack of verbal response as a sign to move on. He by no means wanted to make her uncomfortable or upset. He gently spun y/n outwards, away from him, smiling softly when she faced him and he saw her surprised eyes and gleeful smile. He then spun her back into him, his eyes meeting hers as she stared up at him as her arms rested against his upper torso.

The butterflies in y/n felt different. Not scary and anxiety-inducing like she had occasionally felt around Ryan. But, instead, they were almost comforting. It felt like they formed a soft little cloud that was peacefully floating due to their fluttering wings. It was still exciting yet not nerve wracking. Tom’s compliment from moments before echoed in her mind as she stared into his melted-caramel eyes. She tried to look away, only to catch herself as she moved her gaze to his lips instead. Realizing the sudden tension in the room, y/n abruptly stepped back.

Tom frowned lightly and squinted at y/n worryingly. He tried to read the expression on her face, but she had intentionally turned away from him.

“I better uh, I better go get started on dinner,” y/n commented breathlessly. She didn’t wait for Tom to respond. She didn’t want to hear his usual offer to assist her. She needed a moment to herself. Things had gotten way too.. intense just then. What had she been doing? What had she been thinking? She was with Ryan. She shouldn’t have been dancing with Tom. While she’d admit it started out innocently, it hadn’t felt innocent at the end. The way she struggled to look away from him. The way his compliment bounced around in her mind. The way her eyes flickered towards his pale pink lips that looked so soft that-. No! Stop it!

Y/n groaned quietly as she gripped the edges of the kitchen counter. This wasn’t fair to Ryan. Nothing had happened. And y/n would never cross that line. But, she couldn’t deny the way the situation had made her feel. Ryan didn’t deserve this from her. And Tom didn’t need her developing any ill-conceived and unrequited feelings towards him. She seriously had to get herself together!

Tom deflated slightly at y/n’s abrupt reaction. He wrung his hands together. He caused this. He caused her nervousness and her apparent discomfort. He’d taken it too far. He had meant to simply help y/n be able to do something she’d wanted to but hadn’t done before. He didn’t mean for it to turn into something more. While it hadn’t exactly upset him when it did, it upset him now. Just when he thought that maybe she was feeling the same attraction and romantic tension he was, she had pulled away and looked uncomfortable. And it was all Tom’s fault. He sighed and hung his head as he made his way to the guest bedroom he was staying in. Perhaps it was best that he gave y/n her space for the rest of the night.

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[daisychainsandbowties]

You have destroyed my entire life. How am I supposed to go on learning a common octopus only lives for a year?!? Even if the have 50,000 babies that is still an unacceptable lifespan for my poor little heart. How dare you? How dare that random dude in South Africa? How dare those random anons sending cute asks about a fictional octopus a fictional nun rescued? I can’t… I just… aaaaaarrrrrrrrrggggggghhhhhh

it doesn’t occur to her when she scoops a young octopus out of a display tank in a seedy restaurant, breaking a layer of slime on top to reach him. water dripping down off the elbows of her leather jacket as she stands arguing with the chef, one tiny red octopus arm crawling up past the collar of her jacket, tasting the cheap aftershave she uses instead of perfume. the octopus who is not yet called paprika leaving his arm there, like he’s holding onto lilith just as tightly as she’s holding on to him.

(it doesn’t occur to her. death. not in that moment. she’s all wrapped up in the tiny life shuddering against her chest)

storming out of the restaurant into the rain with blood on her knuckles and a split lip. a glass cut on her lower back from falling into the tank and curling up to protect paprika. pulling the hood of her grey ‘RV Nomad’ hoodie up over her head, letting the octopus climb inside her jacket, but still he sticks one arm out to feel the rain.

lilith peering down at him, glum. ‘hello. you’re species vulgaris, did you know that?’

(and Paprika doesn’t know language, but there’s comfort in her words, calm. she’s the first person who has ever looked at him like he might have feelings)

‘i knew another like you, once. she was a fighter. i always thought she was a little like joan of arc. young, and dead.’

she paces through the rain, making for the shoreline where the ships are docked. looking down at paprika, wiping impatiently so there’s blood smeared up her cheek in a lopsided smile.

‘i would say we have to flee the country, but once i get you into clean saltwater, i’m going to go back and get arrested.’

paprika reaches up, clumsy and small, latching around her neck for leverage. lilith knows it’s a noose, that this is a noose, but it’s already tied. it’s already lifelong.

the octopus - her octopus - wipes a bit of the blood off her face. lilith smiles, and she only does this for animals. humans get her bluntness, her dark staring eyes. they’re lucky if she speaks other than to yell.

but at this creature, she smiles.

‘i know, but if i stay on the research vessel it’ll cause an international incident, and i’d rather not have my mother peering at me over her orange juice in the morning, my face underneath a headline. i’m afraid she’d enjoy that too much.’

her hood is drenched, but paprika catches the drips on his head. he’s happy, so lilith steps up the gangplank with a soft smile, angling her head so her fellow researchers can’t see it.

she puts paprika in his tank, getting out a sharpie to write down ‘species vulgaris’ on a sticker, laughing when paprika slaps the glass in tandem with her hand. he floats in the clean water, limbs rippling. there’s blood soaking the waistband of lilith’s boxers where her back is running with blood, but she’s glad she smashed the horrible, dirty tank they had him in. she’s glad she sucker-punched the chef.

she lays her forehead against the cool glass, dark hair wet, shining like ink. she knows that this kind of octopus is exactly like the one she met as a child. intelligent and adaptive and vibrant and very, very short-lived.

the octopus turns playfully in the water, splashing her. it changes color - not to hide, but to be seen. chromatophores winking at her under the water, like gemstones.

(her first friend taught her to fight. maybe this one can teach her how to be visible)

they arrest her on the docks, dog-piling her because she won’t take her hands out of her pockets. later, suzanne tells her she was lucky not to be shot, as she stands eating noodles with a headache and the other researchers slapping her on the back, telling her about paprika’s gill parasites and the course of treatment they’ve started him on.

‘sorry.’

‘no you’re not, lilith.’

she shrugs, dumps more hot sauce onto the noodles. no, i’m not.

#palmer station au #inspired by the time my family got kicked out of a seafood restaurant because i tried to rescue all the lobsters from their tank #i'm so fine and normal about paprika's lifespan. actually