#otp: he smells like forest

[i-will-sing-no-requiem]

Every All Too Well Lyric as a Ship

Regina & Robin Hood (Once Upon a Time)

(35/53)

[insp]

[siennadraws]

3, 14, 22 for the otp asks?

Hi Ronnie!!

You know this, but for anyone reading, I'm answering with Terys and Solas in mind! For obvious reasons jdjsjs

Do they wear the other’s clothes? (sweatshirt, bandana, necklace, etc.)

Probably not clothes, but definitely things like jewelry, cloaks/shawls/scarves etc.

Actually, back in Inquisition, Terys did give her spare scarf to Solas. Whether he chose to keep it this past decade is a mystery ;). But the old sap probably did. It's in the same memento box as his Orlesian bard wig.

How do their personalities compliment each other? How do they clash?

Well, first off: they're very stubborn in their own ways.

Terys is definitely more of a team player, having grown up dalish, but also, while there was room for disagreements (they where even encouraged), her beliefs never ended up drifting far away from her clan's.

It makes them clash a lot (mostly at the beginning) but it's also what allows them to grow. Anyone else would have a hard time changing either of their minds about something. But since they respect one another a lot, and have the mental stamina to just die on their hills, eventually they do yield to each other.

Solas' lone wolf shtick, however, does annoy the living shit out of Terys.

Disclaimer: she is a master of pushing people away when she thinks it's necessary, so she is an hypocrite.

But Solas is the one person she'll never be capable of pushing away (especially because he does that with her already), and when he's around she softens up and stops needing to push people away.

Regardless, it annoys her a lot when he... how do I say this? Because he doesn't mistrust her, it's just that he walks the Dinan'shiral alone... when he doesn't trust her with uh... information.

If after Inquisition (ok, maybe some months afterwards, to give her a breather) he turned to her and explained everything and asked for her help, she'd definitely go: "Ok, I'm 100% with you, lethallin. But let's do this in the most careful way possible, together. We can find a middle ground."

She just thinks it would be easier for everyone if they just worked as a team, instead of two people who sometimes have the same goals goals.

Terys is also very thirsty for knowledge (insert pun about drinking from the Well of Sorrows here) and Solas is always happy to either try to explain how his magic works, or telling about this or that vision in the Beyond. Teaching anything really.

But Solas does love how much Terys loves and is fascinated by magic. It of course saddens him a lot too. Magic should be her birthright, by all means- not a silly little childhood dream she could never quite shake off.

What reminds each of their partner?

Everything.

When Terys goes to sleep and dreams as a Dreamer. When she hears any story about Elvhenan. When she sees magic, or a mirror. When she looks at her arm that's no longer there. When she sees a elvhen painting blending with the nature, or against an Alienage wall. When she smells something just like the oil he massaged into his locs. When she sees something as violet as his eyes.

When Solas is sheltered by the shadows that hid her oh-so-well. When he walks by a forest, reminding himself of all the stories about her life she told him. When he sees a raven, like the one on her face. When he sees any Vallaslin, now, he realizes, more hers than any slave owner before her. When he uses charcoal on his frescoes or when a small detail calls to him, reminding him of the drawings that filled her notebooks. When his magic glitters green, like the Veil, but miraculously, by some trick of fate, the exact color of her eyes.

[poorlittleyaoyao]

For the ask game ft niche questions: Wen Qing!

Ooh!

A song that reminds me of them: "Sonya Alone" from Natasha, Pierre, and the Great Comet of 1812.

What they smell like: Hmm. Have you ever gone walking in a deciduous forest when it's mid-autumn, so the air is sharp and the leaves have changed but mostly not fallen yet, and it also smells kinda damp but in a good way? Like that.

OTP: CHENGQING MY BELOVED!!! Their whole situation where the things that make them compatible are the very reasons they can't be together in canon is just so... [clenches fist]!!

NOTP: Aside from, like, incest with her brother, I genuinely don't have one. There are options that'd have me going ??? if I ever saw them, but I can't think of any I'd avoid on principle if they were written well.

Favorite platonic/familial relationships: As the song might suggest, I looooove her Sad Genius Scientist Besties relationship with Wei Wuxian (until the timeskip happens and he never mentions her again and I get angry at him lol).

A popular headcanon I disagree with: Mean Lesbian Wen Qing is a transparently lazy attempt to reduce Wen Qing to Wei Wuxian's sassy friend who isn't a threat to Wangxian while pretending to be progressive about it. If you truly think she's gay then actually write her being gay, losers.

The position they sleep in: It takes her awhile to get comfortable if she's not just passing out at her desk, and she falls asleep in unadvised bent positions. It's good that she's an acupuncture prodigy, because she'd otherwise have the WORST neck pain

A crossover AU I'd loved to see them in: THE LOCKED TOMB. She is both halves of the Sixth House duo simultaneously.

My favorite outfit they've ever worn: I know we're meant to find it sad and disheveled, but I really like the red cloak and "peasant" clothes she's wearing when she finds WWX in Lanling!

[justme-and-myobsession]

Word find tag (door, dead, deep and dark)

@winterandwords tagged me to search for door, dead, deep and dark. Late reply (life got in the way and so did Baldur's Gate 3 :D )

These are from the year of the otp 2023 - to be published on ao3 in september. The worktitle is currently Boarding school.

Door

He followed the headmaster outside, where the cold icy wind took away his breath, and they walked across an open field, and as the pavement stopped, Aleksi was forced to carry his trolley, the wheels not rolling on the dirt, he stumbled and almost fell over his own feet. At the edge of the field, the vegetation changes from nice freshly cut grass to wilder and higher vegetation gradually changing to the beginning of a forest. How long had he been walking? At least five to ten minutes, he glanced over his shoulder and saw the main building in the far distance. The headmaster opened a rusting iron door to something that looked like an old industrial ruin, overgrown by plants, making it hard to see the building itself,tucked away, hidden out of sight.

Dead

If Joel’s eyes could have killed him he would be dead.

Deep

Aleksi sat there, crying, rocking himself back and forth to calm down. The feeling of failure, anger and sadness slowly ebbed away, replaced by a feeling of acceptance, hugging him like a blanket. His breathing calmed down, he wiped his tears. He was a failure, and they were right and he would be best off as a lone wolf. He was awkward enough for it.

Aleksi leaned his head against the tree, took a deep calming breath and scented the omega’s. “There’s no need in hiding, I can smell you guys.” Joel was the first to come out and immediately apologised: “Sorry, I didn’t mean to..” “You guys spoke your mind, your truth and yes, it hurts like hell. But you guys are not wrong.”

Dark

He followed the trail and stumbled upon an omega, tied up, spreaded out like a starfish, barely conscious. “Poor thing” Aleksi said softly as he tucked a string of long dark hair, covered with mud and dirt, behind the man’s ear. The man was skinny, you could count his ribs, there was not a single skin coloured inch left on his body, bruises, burning wounds, cuts. Aleksi didn’t need to sniff to smell dirt, mud , blood, pee and semen, amongst other things.

Tagging @helahyma @there-is-just-me-myself-and-i @lnights @another-sun @darkerthanblack-666

@ #any writer who wants to participate but isn't tagged ;-)

if you'd like to do it, with an open tag for anyone else who wants to join in. The words to search your story (WIP or completed) for are rain, window, walk and book 💜

[sustainably-du-mortain]

Hey! 3, 22 and 51 for Adam/Jonah/Nate?

Thank you so much for the ask!!

3. Do they wear the other’s clothes? (sweatshirt, bandana, necklace, etc.)

I've already answered this one for them right here

22. What reminds each of their partner?

For Adam, Jonah is music, the scent of warm bread, a warm cup of coffee, lotr reading dates, flanel shirts, dragons, messy piles of paperwork and random construction plans. While, for Nate, Jonah is music, the scent of lasagna cooking in the oven, long walks in the forest, space documentaries, dragons, reading in the bath, grandpa sweaters and yard sales.

For Jonah, Nate is fancy leather bound books, handwritten notes, a comforting cup of tea with honey, scented candles and bubble baths, rays of sunlight coming through the blinds on a slow morning and the sky during dusk. While for Adam, Nate is handwritten journals, the scent of oil paint and turpentine, shelves covered in books, plays random rants about random subjects, the smell of the rain and the first strawberries of the season.

For Jonah, Adam is a cool shower during summer, every single shade of green, the sky during dawn, wine tasting, the scent of gasoline, lotr reading dates, a warm beverage fighting off the biting cold of the winter wind. While for Nate, Adam is a great vintage, handwritten letters, every shade of green, the quiet before the storm, the first snowfall, late night talks and charcoal sketches.

51. What’s a non verbal way they say I love you?

I've also already answered this one here, but I wanna add something I forgot last time.

I guess you could say that another of Jonah's love languages is music. Jonah writes a lot of songs about Adam and Nate. He doesn't always show them the songs he wrote, but that's his way of expressing how much he loves them. Now when he does show them, whether he's just letting them read the lyrics he wrote, or he's singing the songs for them, it's always a very intimate moment where he is at his most vulnerable. Those are literally the only moments where he is shy. He had never written love songs for his partners before (except for Bobby, but he tore those pages out of his notebooks and acts like they never existed) so this is a huge step for him. He also loves making playlists for Adam and Nate with songs that remind him of them, that he thinks they would like or just songs he wants to introduce them to (aka the masterpiece that is Code Lyoko's French theme song).

I also didn't do Adam and Nate's side last time so here we go!!

Adam says it through the way he lingers in a room while the other do are doing something else, the way he brings his stuff with him if the other two are moving rooms just so he can stay with them. The way he always has the right words to reassure the others about their skill, or the way he has complete trust in them.

Nate says it through keeping a warm cup of coffee next to Jonah at all times when he's working, or buying refills for Adam when he goes stationery shopping. The way he's constantly reaching for the other two, the way he always sits next to them or the way he's always holding their hands.

OTP ask game

[findusinaweek]

Niche Ask Game: Alexios and Demosthenes!

a song that reminds me of them: For Alexios, here is a playlist (it's my Alexidas playlist but a lot of it is how I think of Alexios). "I Lie Awake" by Lightning Bug is one of many songs of how I think Alexios feels in his very long life. what they smell like: Ok so I skimmed Theophrastus' Concerning Odours and had thoughts, most of them for that one very specific oil vial at the Met. But anyways, Theophrastus says light scents like rose, lily, and kypros are good scents for men. I don't know what kypros is and a quick search was useless. Demosthenes smells like oranges blossoms. I don't know if oranges were available to him, so think the very faintest floral citrus scent that makes you go "Huh. Ok. Hello, handsome". Turns your head, surprises you. Alexios, when he doesn't reek, smells like the forest and the sea. Like salty damp pine needles. It's not particularly good or bad, it just is part of his wandering existence. an otp: Alexidas. Alexithenes. a notp: Alexios/Timotheos gives me bad vibes and red flags. But that might just be because I HATE Timotheos' hair. Demosthenes/Kassandra. Just doesn't work for me. I head-canon Kassandra as into women almost exclusively. favorite platonic/familial relationships: EDIT: I realized I forgot to write these! Alexios and his siblings are just so much fun. I want him to rib Stentor every chance he gets. I want him to show Deimos he loves her by treating her the same as anyone else and nothing special. Just another person who is aboard his ship. She is frustrated to not be put in charge or made lieutenant. a headcanon that is popular in the fandom but that i disagree with: I can't think of one right now. Maybe Alexios forgiving his parents? but that's more like...a canon-based game possibility. Kassandra might, I played her as having done so. Kassandra has to be more aware of what she has to lose. She seems more in control of her emotions and she would have to. She doesn't have the same struggles as Alexios. Alexios is allowed a more free existence because he is a man and I think that's something you can see in the voiceacting/portrayal.

the position they sleep: Alexios throws himself down on whatever seems comfortable enough to get a night's rest. His limbs are thrown out, he'll curl himself around his surroundings or fling himself wide if there is nothing nearby. Demosthenes lays himself down in a straight form but he reaches his left arm out in his sleep. in a crossover au i’d love to see them in: Both of them in a regency period drama. Alexios is an incorrigible rake. my favorite outfit they’ve ever worn: Alexios in a suit. Alexios in the chiton he starts with, without any weapons. Demosthenes in an apron haunts me and someday I'll see it, I'll make it.

[fezwearingjellybananas]

"flower" or "sunshine" for the ask game

The sun shone through the leaves, dappled shadows marking the mossy path. Water trickled from somewhere nearby, one of the dozens of streams rolling down the hill towards the river. The smell of spring flowers filled the air, a carpet of green and blue and white across the forest floor, only thin paths between the leaves to mark where others had been.

The Year of the OTP prompts for May include flower language, sunshine, and fantasy AU and those together sparked some ideas just from the glance at them.

It isn't actually an entire AU from start to finish, this is Iris walks into the Forest to save Irey and Jai from the fairy ring they've been tricked into walking into (there's a thing going on between Wally and Hunter Zoloman). And she calls in a favour owed to her by Barry.

It's sort of like a sequel to an unwritten start that would really have leant into the star-crossed lovers trope, two young people who want to be together but everything around them pulls them away from each other over and over. And then they reach the end and Barry's chosen by the Forest and not nearly as mortal as he was at the start, and there is a way he can share those centuries with Iris but there's Wally, there's this tiny boy in her arms, and choosing Barry means giving him up and she can't, he needs her.

But this isn't the end of that story, it's decades later, when two people who loved each other very much, who still do, see each other again for the last time

Thank you!

[Ask Meme]

[reiverreturns]

give us the girl, give us some natasha phoenix trace input reiver, the people wanna know!!!

BAH YOU TERRIBLE ENABLER <3

a song that reminds me of them

oh god oh god okay the one thing i absolutely suck at with characters is songs (i am not a playlist girlie) but if i had to pick one... free by twin atlantic? i set my body on fire so i could be free is pretty lyrically on the nose with how i see her but YOU KNOW.

what they smell like

she strikes me as an unscented soap kind of gal but if she did wear any scent i think it would be something woody and spicy??? like one of those nice unisex scents that smell halfway between a new car and the forest floor. can you tell i do not wear perfume and have no fucking idea what i'm talking about.

an otp

tbh i don't ride hard for any phoenix ship in particular. my normal rational brained self thinks phoenix x bob is cute, but my subconscious lizard brain has constant thoughts about them so that's as close to an otp as i think i'll get here.

a notp

phoenix x rooster. those kids are hardcore platonic in my mind and i don't understand any romantic read of their relationship tbqh.

favorite platonic/familial relationships

PHOENIX AND ROOSTER FOUND FAMILY MY BELOVED. no one can tell me that they are not brother and sister levels of close. in my head they meet right really soon after rooster's bust up with mav so he really has no one. phoenix is similarly alone, being the only woman in the class and with her own family history she's tried to leave in the past. its very much a right person coming into your life at the right time situation. i love their friendship very much it is so dear to me.

a headcanon that is popular in the fandom but that i disagree with

that she is in any way emotionally well adjusted or in a position to act as friend-therapist to rooster. if you are an elite female pilot in a male dominated field, get shit from folks around you and have to continually prove yourself, and are best friends with the most emotionally repressed man on the planet; then i'm sorry honey you are NOT getting out of that without some deep-rooted issues about being vulnerable. this is a hill i will die on.

the position they sleep in goes to sleep on her back pin-straight. wakes in the morning all curled up like a lil kitty cat.

a crossover au i’d love to see them in literally no matter the character the answer to this question will always be pacific rim.

actually, fuck it. found family? let's crank it up to 11 with a fast and furious crossover. swap jets for cars with NOS, that would be hilarious and fun.

my favorite outfit they’ve ever worn

UH BECAUSE THERE'S SO MANY TO CHOOSE FROM?! idk her flightsuit i guess. her squadron patches and helmet are neato.

send me a character and i'll tell you some things

[mokutone]

kiba for the ask game?? 🤍

kiba!!!

the reason he looks the way he does in this art will b explained below the cut sdhghsdgh

favorite thing about them — DOG THEMED NINJA!!! i LOVE dogs and so as a concept, i am thrilled by the idea of a dog themed ninja from a dog themed ninja clan. very cool very awesome!

least favorite thing about them —that said, i have some criticisms about Kishimoto's depictions of them. Clearly, the inuzuka eyes (huge whites of the eyes with narrow, slit irises/pupils) are meant to make them look more animalistic/feral, BUT. THAT SAID. dogs usually have huge and dark eyes!

so much so that one of the main ways to recognize if a dog is anxious is to see if they're showing "whale eye" or; if the whites of their eyes are surprisingly visible. the fact that Kiba's eyes are almost ALL whites, therefore, is. super annoying to me on a character design level. I think he should have big dark eyes like Yamato, with limited whites. thanks for coming to my ted talk, I know I'm unhinged. it's fine. its fine.

favorite line —I like when Tsume is proudly saying "Yeah, they must've run off when they saw how strong I was," during the pain attack, and Kiba's saying, under his breath: "I mean, that's definitely what happened with Dad..." LIKE. LMFAO. help.

brOTP — akamaru!!!! akamaru is his best friend and his dog and theyre so cute. did you know in the naruto fighting game, clash of ninja, if u play kiba akamaru just kind of...follows you around? like he's not fighting, he doesn't defend you. he's just like boredly following u around. sometimes he sits, or lays down. sometimes he stretches. i'm dying boy please save me. akamaru you coward get in the fight with me!

OTP —i don't care too much about this kind of thing, no opinion!

nOTP —i don't care too much about this kind of thing, no opinion!

random headcanon —I think he was able to smell weird fox on Naruto from the beginning. Weird vibes from that kid. When he found out Hinata had a crush on him he was like "LMFAOO WHAT...HIM? you like HIM???? he smells like a fox den after a forest fire. get better taste, christ. "

unpopular opinion —ok im gonna be annoying again. I think it's great that he communicates with Akamaru, but I think Akamaru should either be speaking (like Pakkun) or Kiba should be getting information from Akamaru that could reasonably be communicated thru dog body language??? but instead we've got a fucking. lassie situation. where Akamaru goes like "woof woof" and Kiba is like "youre so right, boy. despite there being no ethical consumption under capitalism we DO need those calories because tomorrow IS leg day and you've got four whole legs :/"

song i associate with them —Everything Reminds Me of My Dog by Jane Siberry

Smiling at strangers reminds me of my dog (Better let them know you're friendly) The way people dress reminds me too Pissing on their favorite tree Sad things remind me of my dog Cockroaches and other insects Reminds me too, don't eat them The blank expression of the little boy with thick glasses Who picks himself up from the sidewalk And stands there blinking in the sun Ho oh! If you remind me of my dog We'll probably git along— —little doggie Git along git along little doggie git a–

favorite picture of them

i love this one. i was recently watching the pain attack and kiba and his mother both entered a room at once, and he was riding on akamaru like a cowboy (LIKE THIS PICTURE) and his mother, tsume, fucking.

scuttled in on all fours. help???? i'm obsessed with her. i want to swear fealty to her. why did she scuttle in on all fours??? i love her so much. i think she should be hokage.

[xviruserrorx]

Title: "Turn Off The Lights, I'm In Love"

For Day one of @camelove and for @merlinbingo and day nine of @fluffbruary as well! 😃

Fandom: BBC Merlin

Prompt(s): "OTP", I5 "Breakfast", " Poppy"

Relationship: Mordred/Daegal, Mordred & Daegal (can be read however!)

Rating: Gen

Word count: 2,335

"Did you mean what you said last night?"

Mordred's expression softened, "I always mean every word I say to you."

"I know just…" Daegal opened and closed his mouth with an ache in his throat.

How can you love me?

Continue reading below over on Ao3

With the start of the day, the sky was overcast a milky blue with a tinge of grey on the edges. The air held a subtle crispness that lingered on the skin and on his breath. So much so, Daegal found himself catching his cloak as Merlin tossed it to him on his way out the door.

All of Camelot was still fast asleep aside from the few servants that roamed the halls with platters, clothes, and pots full of warm rocks. The sun had yet to come out of the clouds and illuminate to its full potential across the sky. Leaving the few chirps of the waking birds and falling leaves that scratched against the incoming breeze like a ripple of applause, the only prominent noise.

His footsteps echoed as they pounded down against the stone in rapid succession. He caught the only pair of open windows by the edge of his sight, briefly turning and leaving a glance before he continued running.

Once loud steps became dampened by the forest ground, every so often being caught in the splash of a puddle caused by the downpour of the night before. He jumped over small streams, pushed past bushes, ducked under vines and branches. He lined up his feet, one behind the other as he balanced along a fallen log over a shallow river.

His destination was met at the other side, in the calmness of a memory and ghost presence before being plucked from the earth. Gathered in a fond grip of a blood-red feathery silk touch. The traces of the forests followed back over stone grounds once again and into the castle.

The hustle slowly became more and more as others awoke. Missed platters and wine-filled decanters were ducked under as he finally reached the kitchens where the platter was. Topped with fruits, bread, meats, and cheeses; he placed his items in hand beside the assortment of food as he dodged and made his way out of the kitchen

Knocking was long forgotten as he pushed open the familiar door and saw the comforting sight. Windows from earlier laid open as Mordred peered out them from the ledge. His attention was caught on the open book in his lap, though it quickly switched to Daegal as he entered and set down the platter on the table.

Mordred smiled, "You really don't have to do this every morning." He stood up with his book in hand.

Daegal shrugged his shoulders, "I enjoy it." He popped a couple of grapes into his mouth and sat down at the table, "besides, it's my excuse to see you every morning."

His hair was ruffled as Mordred passed by, the book set down as he stared down what was beside the platter. "Poppies." He picked one up, bringing it up to smell it before he admired it once again.

"I'll put them in some water." Daegal got up and quickly replaced the flower's in a vase on Mordred's desk from the day before with the fresh red ones. Yellow daisies had occupied the previous day with one being snatched away and kept by Mordred. And the day before held its own unique pick of flowers, as did all the days before.

"Thank you." The platter was pushed more towards Daegal as he sat back down.

He plucked another grape off the vine and into his mouth as he tilted his head at Mordred's book laying on the table. "New book?" He questioned. He grabbed it and quickly realized it was indeed new from the few pages marked that were read.

Mordred nodded, "You would like it, I'll read some of it to you tonight?" His words ended with a raised eyebrow giving Daegal his own choice to make.

He flipped through a couple of the pages seeing only blocks of text that just looking at them lost his interest. He shook his head and passed the book back with a scrunched up nose.

"Bring your normal book then," Mordred chuckled, "we'll read that."

And as Mordred said, he kept to his word. Daegal returned as normal back to Mordred's chambers that evening with the book in hand. A collection of short fables that Geoffrey had given him one of the times when he helped every so often in the library.

Dinner was had there as he didn't stay with Merlin for the meal before he became engrossed in the book in wait. Tucked into Mordred's side in his bed as he was told of splendours unheard of. Story after story, many told from previous nights before, were revisited in fragments. His excitement started high before turning in contentment, somewhere which he felt safe and allowed his eyes to droop close as Mordred's words blurred into something soothing that lulled him to sleep.

A few more seconds of bliss passed before the short story came to its moral ending. Mordred ended it in a soft The End muttered as he saw Daegal's sleeping state. His arm now stuck with his refusal to move Daegal, the few flickering candles were put out with a quick spell of magic. The book was softly closed and put aside, while he pulled the covers up and over both of them as he situated himself as carefully as possible.

He let a few seconds linger with his hand busy moving Daegal's hair from his face before he softly pressed his lips to his forehead.

"I love you," he said. There was a soft whine in response that he lightly chuckled and took as his answer.

Daegal shifted, his head tucked under Mordred's chin and arms scrunched up with hands balled in Mordred's nightshirt. Safety allowed as arms wrapped around him and pulled him closer for deep slumber.

They both woke as normal; Mordred up far too early for Daegal's liking as the knight quietly had escaped to the window sill edge with a book in hand once again. Daegal was behind a few hours as he was greeted with a soft good morning before heading to the physicians' chambers to let Merlin know he was okay.

Though all through getting changed into clean clothes and forced to stay to eat breakfast, he found himself thinking of Mordred's words the night before. Words that he found sounded foreign in Mordred's and Merlin's mouths when spoken to him despite all meaning and intention present.

"Merlin?"

"Hm?" The older man hummed through a mouthful of food.

He pushed his food back and forth around his bowl as he pressed his lips tight together.

Merlin stopped as he swallowed and focused all his attention on him. "What's wrong, Daegal?"

Daegal let the spoon rest in his bowl and his figure slouched as he took a deep breath. "Why do you say you love me?"

Eyebrows furrowed as sympathy laid in Merlin's expression. "Because I do."

"But why do you say it?"

Merlin cleared his throat as he reached across the small table and covered one of Daegal's hands with his, "I want you to know I do, Daegal. Sometimes people worry when you don't know these things."

He almost hated the sombre look Merlin was giving him, the one he often got when he asked certain questions. Things he felt he should know or understand but didn't.

"Just me saying it isn't the only way for you to know though," he continued. "Everything, all the little things like this," he gestured to their breakfast and his hand over his, "are also ways to show that you care and love others."

A small smile slowly climbed on his face as he nodded.

Merlin returned the smile, "Why do you ask?"

How can you love me? He wanted to ask. How can Mordred? He shook his head as he returned to his breakfast with a concealing smile, "no reason."

He lied through his teeth with a heavy heart. A content okay returned from Merlin made him swallow hard through a forced smile.

He abandoned the rest of his breakfast after a few bites so Merlin wouldn't bother him about eating. The sun told him to hurry as he found what he needed all in time as he made his way back to Mordred's chambers.

Once blood-red flowers were replaced in a quick manner before Mordred had to rush out of his chambers clad in chainmail and armour. Blue Cornflowers sprouted from Daegal's hands as he held them out, catching Mordred momentarily off guard. One was plucked from his hands with a quick thank you and a bashful smile before a billowing red was the last thing he saw.

Mordred's words replayed in his head and intermingled with Merlin's as well as his own thoughts. What they meant tangled with what he thought they meant, nothing exactly clear in the end.

His prior sleepiness of the night before led him to believe it was just the beginning of a dream but a part of him knew that wasn't true. He tried to keep his head down throughout the day, contemplating things he tried hard to understand and find a meaning to. Yet his coyness to act okay but hidden at the same time soon came to its fault.

"What's wrong?"

His head snapped to where Mordred was changing out of his armour from training behind the screen. The rustling came to a stop as Daegal sat up from where he was laying on the ground by the fireplace.

"What?"

"What's wrong?" Mordred walked out. "You've been quiet all day, you're never this quiet. Well… at least with me." He closed the distance and slipped his palm over his forehead, "You don't feel warm or look ill for that matter."

Daegal shook his head, "none of that."

A grimace appeared on Mordred's face as he kneeled to the floor, "what's wrong then?"

He shrugged, "just…" he couldn't put together the right thoughts and words to say how he was feeling. He fidgeted his fingers before looking Mordred straight on, "Did you mean what you said last night?"

There was a momentary blank before what Daegal was talking about resurfaced. Mordred's expression softened, "I always mean every word I say to you." He spoke in surety.

"I know just…" Daegal opened and closed his mouth with an ache in his throat.

"People do love and care about you, Daegal," Mordred said. "Me included. And just because I say things doesn't mean you ever have to say them back, okay?"

To say words in their full nakedness and honesty, with nowhere to hide, scared him. But not knowing another's honesty scared him even more. He knew every word Mordred spoke, he knew the compassion that laced his voice, that lingered in echoes even long gone to be unheard of. Yet to fathom genuineness of actions and words for only himself, he didn't want to.

He nodded his head, "Okay…"

The night came quickly as he found himself sitting in front of the same fire from hours before. Though the night brought its chill, making the stone floor colder than before as he opted for the chair rather than the floor. The crackling filled the air along with the soft brush of pages from Mordred's book.

Every few minutes, despite his lulling eyelids, they would flutter back open with every flick of a new set of pages. He tried the comfort in the lone fire but couldn't without hearing of Mordred's presence. Even when the pages closed and the rustle of the bedclothes followed, bare feet met the cold floors in a sultry longing that made Daegal smile at the uncommon habit.

A soft bout of silence lingered between a small thump of the book returning to its rightful place and the warm arms that wrapped around him.

"You should get to bed, it's late." Soft words were muttered as he tried to regain some semblance of consciousness. The billowy light sleeves from Mordred's tunic tickled his bare skin, almost mocking his night tone of voice.

"I can always stay here?" He muttered, lifting his head as Mordred's arms left with more pattering of his feet. He heard the sheets flourish and hit the air, a small quick breath before they landed softly in silence.

"I don't want you in the antechambers," came Mordred's voice, "it's far too cold in there."

He stretched over the chair before turning to face Mordred.

The top blanket was thrown back as Mordred patted the right side of the bed, "Come on."

"Are you sure?"

"Oh, Like we haven't slept together before," He teased. The previous night and many nights before all evidence of his words.

He got up as Mordred went to his wardrobe, grabbed a nightshirt and quickly disappeared behind the changing screen. Shoes were discarded on Daegal's part along with the layers he wore over his tunic.

Mordred appeared again, extinguishing the rest of the candles aside from the one by the bedside. All while Daegal sat at the edge of the bed, his mind wandering once again before his restless notions made themselves known.

"Mordred?"

He quickly got his attention as Mordred continued to move around.

Words formed to come out but stopped in his throat. "I…"

As if he read his mind, Mordred gave him a fond smile before walking to his knight attire that was still hanging from the changing screen. He reached into the inside of his gambeson and pulled out the blue cornflower from that morning, "I know." He twisted it between his fingers as he walked closer. Laying the flower on his bedside table along with the previous days.

The sheets were pulled back as he slipped under them and held open the other side for Daegal to climb under.

He held no hesitation, allowing the blankets to cover him and his own selfish conceit in Mordred's warm embrace. His actions spoke for him even if he struggled with his words.

He received a drowsy smile as the last words were spoken between them both.

"I love you too."

[thestraggletag]

Roll for Initiative, a Rumbelle D&D Fic

Summary: Tales of the Enchanted Forest was the hottest online D&D game, in part for its charismatic players, in part for the twisted turns of the DM's mind and in part because of the outrageous chemistry between its greatest OTP, the party's beautiful bard and the Dark One, an anti-hero side-character who is there to provide information and uncomfortable levels of UST. Mr Gold thinks it's a harmless flirtation that could never become anything else, just like his silly little crush on the town librarian, Belle French.

He's wrong.

Rating: Explicit.

Author’s Note: Surprise, @argoslight​, it is I, your Gifter! Sorry to make you wait till near the end but I just had way more banter to write in me than I thought. I hope you enjoy your gift. I’m so sorry to not be able to add more D&D elements but since I don’t play I don’t have a lot of idea of what could be done. Also I apologise for any mistakes! And thanks so much to @little-inkstone for her help and D&D knowledge.

The castle was quiet when she entered, her steps echoing against the stone. It was gloomy inside, curtains obscured and decor sparse and sombre, the castle living up to its name. But there were flowers on the table, moon lilies, her favourite flower. They bloomed only in the Eastern Mountains past the Old Wall, but she had long since suspected he grew some on one of his enchanted hothouses, with the excuse of using them for potions. 

“Where’s the rest of your pretty little troop of do-gooders, dearie?”

The voice came out of nowhere, echoing around the empty halls of the castle. Thankfully she did not need directions, knowing exactly when to turn and where to go. Soon she found herself in a vast room, with a table on the centre and curios filled with oddities and the like. Some others were displayed on pedestals, including a rather fearsome sword and a nasty-looking crown made of thorns. None of the artefacts were what she sought, but she was not there to bargain for an item, but rather for information.

“Off on their own quests, taking care of other things that need doing.”

The voice tsked, seeming not to approve.

“They let you enter the lair of the beast alone? Some heroes.”

The woman lowered the hood of her cloak and walked towards the unlit chimney. Immediately a fire blazed to life, as if the castle itself was trying to cater to her comfort. The fire provided much-needed light as well, revealing the profile of a man in the shadows. Or something that looked like a man, at least, if not for the reflective scales that covered his body and its strange eyes: gold irises around catlike pupils.

“I asked to come alone. I felt like we could talk more openly this way.”

She removed her cloak, ostensibly to drape it across a chair near the fire and let it dry. The creature, however, seemed to read more into the gesture, tsking again.

“You come here all alone, a pretty little lamb, and take off the only real bit of protection you have. Reckless, dearie, most reckless.”

 The creature stood up, walking slowly towards the light, revealing more of its form as it approached her. Leather pants and a long, reptilian-looking vest and coat. It wasn’t particularly tall but power emanated from it in suffocating waves. She closed her eyes, finding his cloying presence strangely comforting. Then again, she had always been odd. 

“Once again your pitiful little party of friends needs my help. How they weigh you down, Beauty.”

He stepped fully into the light then, revealing a being more creature than man, the reptilian skin and claws as off-putting as his unnatural eyes. She should’ve taken a step back, should’ve gone for her blade or the dagger tucked into her left boot, but she didn’t. As much as she knew she shouldn't, she felt at ease in his presence. Well, perhaps not quite. She certainly felt a strange sort of anxiousness in his presence, a fluttery sort of feeling that she attributed to being particularly attuned to his magic. None of the other members of her party felt that way. If anything, he repulsed them, which wasn’t something she could understand. To her he was… magnetic.

“Are you in the mood for dealing or not? I can trade for information.”

He snorted.

“With what? Your little band of misfits is dirt poor. That idiotic paladin of yours ruined your last mission. You really should think about ditching the man. All brawn, no brains. At least your rogue is a smart woman.”

His gaze left her briefly, running down the length of her clothing: sturdy black boots, a nicely-cut dress that stopped around the knees and a sturdy belt with a few pockets for her spells. But the clothing, as well-made as it was, was dated, old. Looked worn and was signed and stained in places, and it left a lot of her frail human skin exposed. She had not been able to afford an upgrade in a while, preferring to spend her coin in what could benefit the group.

His moue of distaste disappeared once his eyes fell on her cloak. Well, his cloak, since he had been the one to make it. It was a lovely thing in varied shades of green, shot through with golden thread, his trademark. She had bought it off him a long time ago, a simple thing to keep her warm during cold nights and dry when it rained. Miraculously, though, it also did not sustain damage, looking exactly the same as when she had first put it on.

“I’m glad at least my protection is serving you well.”

He ran a claw along the seams of the cloak, making it glitter, like to like, magic calling for its own. He looked smug, as if pleased she was wearing something he had made.

“It does more than we bargained for. I’ve been blasted with magic strong enough to burn through most fabric but it has not even frayed. How strange of you, Rumplestiltskin, to lose out on a deal.”

He shivered when she said his name, walking behind her to the safety of the shadow she cast next to the fire.

“Can’t help it if my magic is just that powerful, my dear. I’m glad you are a happy customer. Always thought that cloak was a nice bit of magic. Can’t fault you for always wearing it.”

She felt him close in on her from behind, to the point that it almost felt like they were touching.

“It smells like you. That’s why I wear it all the time.”

The noise he made behind her was inhuman, a cross between a whimper and a growl. His claws scrapped against the back of her dress, the feeling muted by her stays, but she could feel his breath against the back of her neck and that alone was-

“Hey, this is a decent stream! Keep it PG for the kids, you weirdos.”

“Damn it, Grumpy, I wanted to see how long it would take them to snap out of it!”

“Sorry, Snow, but I ate a big dinner and I aim to keep it down.”

The messages in the chatroom wheezed by, mostly disgruntled complaints about their OTP never catching a break. The other participants in the stream were mostly silent, their mics muted likely to hide the amused snickers. There was no video feed on any of the members of the party, all of them represented instead by artwork to preserve their anonymity. Once upon a time that had been a fanciful choice, and perhaps a way to stay safe when interacting with strangers on the internet. Now it was mostly to keep their private lives from being overtaken by the popularity of their stream. “Tales of the Enchanted Forest” was shaping up to be one of the hottest D&D online streaming shows, already on its third campaign and counting.

“Beauty is just trying to get us some answers, Grumpy. We can’t just go stumbling about hoping to run into some fairy wand by chance.”

“Oh, it’s that what the kids are calling it these days?”

“Enough! Can we get back to the campaign already? It took me weeks to plan and it kinda hinges a bit on the Dark One helping, which needs to happen today.”

“Fine by me, dearie, if the dwarf can curtail his temper.”

The party was composed of five characters, a paladin, a cleric, a bard, a rogue and a thief, which along with the Dungeon Master made up the regular cast of every weekly stream. But given the popularity of the show, and the amount of time they had been playing, they had managed to amass a good amount of side-characters, guests invited every now and then to help the campaign move along and keep the interest of the audience. And by far the most popular of those guests was the Dark One, a wizard of unknown lineage and tremendous power that served both as an antagonist and a pseudo-ally depending on the situation. 

His presence was likely the reason why the livestream’s numbers looked so robust. He had amassed quite a fanbase, due in part to the commitment the player put on the character (the voice-acting was above and beyond what anyone could’ve expected from an amateur performer, and the backstory was quite complex, revealed in bits and pieces fans had meticulously assembled together) and in part to the chemistry he had managed to develop with the group’s bard, a half-human named Beauty.

“Okay, let’s all go back to what we were doing.” The DM’s voice was authoritative, though also more than a bit pissed off. “Okay, Beauty, you were about to try and cajole the Dark One to sell you the information you needed in return for a vial of water from Lake Nostos. Though the water is valuable, it’s not guaranteed to be enough to tempt the wizard. You have to roll at least a 13 in persuasion to make the trade. Roll when you’re ready.”

...

Rumford Gold stretched within the confines of the small backroom of his shop, where he had his computer stuff set up. Initially he’d bought the computer to better conduct his online business. His laptop at home wasn’t cutting it and it was better to photograph the antiques, update the website and handle the deliveries from his place of business. He had bought a good camera, some light fixtures and, on a whim, a microphone, for instances where he might need to virtually communicate with clients. It was something that was happening more and more, especially because a lot of his clientele was European. The internet had truly turned his antiquing- more of a hobby than a profession originally- into a profitable business.

He had gotten into watching D&D while waiting late at night for a client to become available in Austria. He had played as a lad, one of the few happy moments he could remember from his childhood in Glasgow, but had given it up once he had met Milah. And after they were over he had been too involved in making something of himself to remember past childhood enjoyments. But apparently D&D had evolved with the times and he had gotten into the habit of searching for and watching online D&D campaigns in his spare time. From that to actually being a side-character in one of them took almost no time. It was frightfully easy to go back to that frame of mind of playing make-believe, only now he had a distaste for the clean-cut heroic types and more of an affinity for the morally-grey, shady characters.

So he had auditioned for the role of evil-wizard when there had been an opening for a side-character in his favourite D&D stream, The Enchanted Forest. And though the DM had written what he considered to be a very flat, uninteresting character, he had been able to give it his own spin. He knew the DM hated him for it, hated when he deviated from what was expected of him, but people loved him. It was half the fun, pissing the DM off.

The other half, he had to admit, was Beauty. The one with the brains in the group, clearly, a half-human, half-fairy bard with an uncanny ability to think ahead, and arm herself with knowledge. Most of the other members of her party were more apt to try and decapitate something than negotiate with it, or even befriend it. Beauty prided herself on more of a gentle approach, which sometimes got her treated as the “fragile” one. He thought it just made her all the more interesting.

Their flirting had just kinda happened. He was half into it before he realised it had begun at all and by the time he had grown conscious- and self-conscious- of it fans were lapping it up and loving it. Even the DM, as loath as he was to admit it, found the banter engaging, even as if stole the spotlight from his story and where he wanted it to go. So every now and then he got invited into a stream, sometimes to interact with the whole party and sometimes, like the session he had just finished, to speak only to Beauty. And what was supposed to be a brief conversation before the party moved to greener pastures became a whole session, with the chatroom full of engagement and the view count off the charts.

But the DM had had a short tolerance span tonight, and had nipped things in the bud much sooner than usual. He felt… unfulfilled. Unsatisfied. Itchy, almost, in a way. So he was more than happy when he received an email from Beauty, who seemed to share his dislike of how the session had played out. They had started doing that more often, sharing emails after a session, even when he did not participate in it. It was harmless, he thought. Just an innocent online flirtation that could never realistically turn into anything. Not that his more in-person romantic overtures could ever pan out. He was in his third year of being completely smitten by the local town librarian, and in his second year of being able to put two words together in front of her without the help from Scotch, something he was perhaps a bit too proud of. And though he had decided very early on that the whole thing was utterly hopeless he had not been able to steer his thoughts or affections away. Realistically he was perhaps more in love with the idea of Belle French than the reality itself, given how little he had personally interacted with the woman. But he knew just enough to fill in the blanks and create a beautiful picture of how he imagined her to be: bookish- an easy assumption given how many times he had caught her in public places absorbed in a book-, kind, generous and delightfully able to hold a grudge and enact revenge when the time came. A bit reckless, and sometimes quick to form opinions, but also quick to revise them. A tactile person, with a great sense of fashion and a carelessness about what was expected of her.

He saw her in his head as clear as day, but little of that image was based on any personal knowledge of her. So, perhaps, he had found in Beauty a fictional substitute, someone he could talk to, and flirt with, without consequences, adopting the persona of someone more confident, more at ease with that sort of thing. The Dark One was comfortable in his skin in a way that he could only pretend to be sometimes. All the money and power he had accumulated over the years had helped him evolve from the spineless, cowardly lad he had once been, but when it came to certain situations, especially those that necessitated a level of vulnerability, he was still hopeless.

Perhaps, he wondered, it was better to think about his online liaison with Beauty as the real thing. They wrote to each other often, in and out of character, and over the course of their correspondence he had confided in her more than he had in any other person alive. Small things at first, every day peeves and details. Nothing that could identify them, certainly, but surprisingly intimate nevertheless. And over time it had grown to stuttering confessions and barings of the soul on both sides. She had told him of her teenage years in a mental asylum, the product of an overwrought widowed father trying to do right by his grieving daughter. He had had a few choice words to say about that, uncharitable thoughts about her father prompting his own willing sharing of the sad story of his childhood, neglectful father and all. It had felt nice, to confide in someone, someone he trusted.

He glanced at her email, where she lamented how their scene had not been as long or as satisfying as she had wanted, and saw she was proposing to meet later in a private stream to finish it the way they had both wanted. She had proposed something similar once or twice before and he had politely declined but now he wondered why not take her up on her offer. What was stopping him? His imaginary idea of Belle French, who in reality had never given him more than a polite smile in passing? Too young, too good, too beautiful to ever see him as anything other than an old cripple? Whatever he had built with Beauty felt infinitely more real, and attainable. A relationship without ever meeting in person seemed ideal in many aspects and, perhaps, if and when it came to meeting in the real world, his physical shortcomings would not be relevant, nor would it his rather uncharitable reputation.

He sent her a quick reply to arrange a meeting, feeling like a bit of roleplaying was, in the end, quite harmless. And if it were to lead to something a bit more meaningful, well, perhaps it was about time.

…

“Water from Lake Nostos. A key ingredient in most powerful potions and even some spells. I’m sure it could prove useful to you.”

The bard showed him the glowing crystal vial hanging from a long chain around her neck, with the glowing milky-white water from the cursed lake in it. He made a move to get closer to inspect it but the woman took a step back, tucking the vial back inside her bodice. The wizard’s eyes lingered there, hiz gaze growing intense. The bard felt her skin flush in response, something that felt a bit like fear but wasn’t running down her spine.

“And I’m sure a new wardrobe could prove useful to you, dearie. You’re practically wearing rags.” Rumplestiltskin made a show of running his eyes up and down her form with just enough disgust in his face to make it seem as if he was only noticing the rather sad state of her dress. 

“It’s my best gown, I’d thank you not to insult it.”

He made a moue of disapproval, shaking his head for good measure.

“You’re far from your days as a princess. I hope seeing the world is worth putting up with your band of idiots that waste most of the gold they earn with your wit in pointless goose chases that you know will lead nowhere.”

Beauty didn’t respond. There was nothing she could say to contradict what he thought of her party, none of which was charitable to say the least. And she also knew that he was aware that all of it was worth the freedom she had won when she had left her life in her father’s castle behind. She did miss one or two things, perhaps. Her mother’s vast library being one and, perhaps, some of the fashions. Not so much the silhouettes- she had never liked how the sea of petticoats she was always forced to wear restricted her movement- but the fabrics and colours, certainly. And the shoes.

“I’m here to make a deal, Dark One. Are you doing business today or not?”

Lesser creatures would’ve rather bitten off their tongues that throw cheek at the Dark One, but Beauty did not even bat an eye, lips curling in a defiant little smile that had the wizard smirking, something like admiration blooming in his chest. It’s what he loved most about his little bard, her spine of steel. And perhaps her blue eyes, but that was neither here nor there.

“I don’t do business with raggedy urchins, dearie. If you want to sit down and negotiate you’ll need a bath.” He made a face, as if he could smell her across the room. “And a change of dress, while I put your current outfit to wash… Or set it on fire, I haven’t decided yet.”

She could tell that he was pulling his punches, that he was playing at being repulsed by her state of dress and hygiene just bad enough that she would see he did not really mean it, not in any real way. She would’ve been able to tell either way, but it was nice that he thought it important to spare her feelings. And she couldn’t deny that a bath sounded heavenly after so many weeks on the road, sleeping out in the open and washing in freezing-cold creeks whenever possible.

“Well, if you insist…”

He took her to a well-lit and spacious bathing chamber, with the biggest copper tub she had ever seen, already filled with warm, soapy water that smelled of vanilla. She wasted no time after the door closed behind him, stripping quickly, careless of her worn and mended garments, and slipping into the tub. It was heaven on her tired muscles, and her dirty skin, and though she would’ve stayed there for hours she knew that every minute spent bathing was a minute less with the Dark One. Their time was limited. If she didn’t return to camp in the morning her party would venture into the castle, likely thinking the most dreadful scenarios. She could picture Charming attempting to kick the front gate open and getting hurt for his troubles. She could not let them worry for her, or risk the rapport she had developed with the Dark One by coming in unannounced. 

She got out of the tub with only a bit of reluctance and found a towel that she was convinced was enchanted to dry her faster than possible. She found clothing laid out in the adjoining dressing room, the undergarments soft and made of pale cream fabric and the dress of a lovely velvety, forest-green fabric, with a belt embroidered in small pearls that matched the detail about the neckline. She put it on gladly, twisting every which way to lace it up at her back. Living a less princessy life had made her acquire a number of small skills, including the ability to dress up mostly by herself even in gowns that did not lace up at the front, like most of her travelling clothes.

She did not spot her mauve travelling dress or her boots, but she was sure that Rumplestiltskin had whisked them away and would subtly mend them with magic, though she was sure he would deny it if she were to point it out. The green dress was accompanied by matching slippers, butter-soft and silent as they touched the stone floor. She made sure to dry her hair out, noticing how it shone red-gold in the flattering light of the candles, and took her time brushing it and styling it out of her face, so it fell flatteringly down her back. Her neck and most of her upper torso was bare but for the chain keeping the vial of water tucked safely against her breasts, the wide neckline of the dress dipping low enough to leave her collarbones bare, but she didn’t mind it. She was inside the Dark Castle, with the Dark One. She was safe there. On the road she always had to think about not attracting unwanted male attention. Here she rather felt like the opposite.

It was a silly infatuation, and many would argue any interest or desire on her part was due to the wizard’s power, which some would say was an aphrodisiac potent enough to make some look past the Dark One’s rather unfortunate exterior. No one would ever believe her if she confessed she rather… liked his appearance. The green-gold skin, the wild hair, the talons, but also the exquisitely-tailored pants and vests, the frothy cravats, the slim coats. A beast and a gentleman. A rather enticing combination, she had found.

She went downstairs into the trophy room once more, where two massive chairs were pulled up next to the roaring fireplace, the main source of light. The Dark One was sitting in one of them, a snifter gingerly held by a clawed hand, containing some sort of brown-gold liquid. He glanced at her the moment she entered the room, unwilling or unable to hide his appreciation for what he saw. He had removed his coat, leaving only his high-collared vest and one of his open shirts to cover his upper body, no forty cravat in sight. He seemed less guarded, more adventurous than he usually was when it came to matters of intimacy.

“You clean up well, dearie. Wish I could say the same for your dress. A wash will only do so much for it, but I refrained from throwing it into the fireplace. You’re welcome.”

“Good, as it’s not your property to destroy.” Beauty sat down, with a poise that betrayed her royal upbringing, and primly crossed her legs at the ankles. “So, Dark One, are you prepared to deal with me now?”

She had dealt with him dozens of times before, she had no idea why it all sounded so much like innuendo now. She couldn’t say she minded it.

“Of course, my dear. I’ve had time to think about our deal whilst you were splashing about in the tub.” His sing-songy voice broke, getting suddenly deeper for a second or two, as if he was struggling to retain his composure. “The vial is certainly a good start, but perhaps not quite enough. Now, I’m prepared to be generous given our long and fruitful history of dealmaking together, but I must also keep up certain appearances. So I thought I would also demand… an evening of your time.”

He tried to make it sound sinister, but she was past getting scared of him. At least in the traditional way. She raised an eyebrow, adopting a rather coquettish expression.

“And what would an evening of my time entail exactly?”

“Oh, well, you know. Companionship, perhaps a game of chess, some good wine, conversation and the like.”

She made a show of thinking it over before offering her hand, which he shook without delay.

“It’s a deal.”

Several hours later she had won two games of chess, one game of checkers, and was sipping from her third coupe of sparkling wine as she listened intently to a story about a deal the Dark One had once made with a king from a distant land. He was a gifted storyteller, engaging and funny, knowing exactly when to pause or gesticulate to keep the flow of the story just right. The king in his tale was rather unfortunate, in the sense that his hubris and arrogance had led him to make a deal with the Dark One that he did not understand. Most of Rumplestiltskin’s deals seemed to be like that, Beauty thought. And when he came to collect people dared be indignant that he demanded what they promised in the first place.

“The king was furious. Never let go of the grudge. Hired several assassins to try and kill me. A waste of gold, of course.”

He let out a trilling laugh, which soon proved to be contagious. Somehow, over time, it felt like their chairs had moved closer, because if she stretched out a hand she could easily touch him. Odd.

“Serves him right, for making such an open-ended deal. What a rookie mistake.”

She didn’t recall removing her slippers but she must have, because her feet were enjoying being pressed against the soft cushion of the chair. He made a gesture for her to lean close, which was a bit of a balancing feat, but she managed. Her heart skipped a bit when he leaned close too, almost pressing his mouth against her ear.

“You have no room to talk, sweet. You struck a very vague deal yourself, committing to an evening of conversation, chess ‘and the like’. That little turn of phrase is an invitation to all manner of sins, even the darkest and most decadent of debaucheries.”

He hissed the last part, making her shiver. Not content with letting him have the upper hand she turned her head so their lips were inches apart.

“That’s what I was hoping for.”

She could tell she had shocked him into inaction. Cocky Dark One, always in control of the conversation, always one step ahead of everyone else. It was nice to see him floundering, to catch him unprepared. Finally he gulped and put a little distance between them.

“Aren’t you the bravest little poppet.”

“My mother always said ‘Do the brave thing and bravery will follow.’ I’m a firm believer of the principle.”

Slowly, almost painfully so, both his hands clutched at the armrests of her chair, effectively pinning her to it. She knew she was supposed to be scared but she felt nothing but excitement, a buzzing just beneath the skin that made her strangely needy for something. Touch, perhaps, or more. The feeling was so overwhelming she did not realise at first that the laces of her dress were coming undone, as if invisible hands were painstakingly pulling them loose. She tried to make eye contact, but he ducked his head, pressing his face against the base of her neck, where it met her shoulder. She sighed, noticing how gentle he was, his touch feather-light, and discovering that she would not mind a rougher treatment. He was restraining himself, she realised, trying to be a gentleman. Sweet, but not what she wanted from him at that moment. Feeling bold Beauty carded a hand through his hair, pressing his face more firmly against her skin.

“Please, Rumple.”

Those two words seemed to have a magic of their own, producing a sudden and radical change in him. He moved too fast for her to see, wrapping her up in his arms and depositing her on the long dining table on the other side of the room. She did not know whether he used magic or simply moved inhumanly fast, but either possibility excited her, reminded her of the power of the creature looming over her, claws tugging at the unlaced bodice of her dress, dragging the velvet down to expose her undergarments. She was wearing the underbust corset he had provided over the snowy linen shift he had also left for her, so it was easy for him to simply tug the shift down a bit to expose her breasts. He leaned forward, nuzzling the space between her breasts, making a sort of satisfied purring noise as he sniffed up her clavicles and down her throat. Then, once he was happy with the level of squirming she was doing, he finally gave her what she wanted, closing his mouth, with all of its sharp teeth, around one of her rosy nipples. It was a strange feeling at first, more unfamiliar than pleasant, but when he began to suck it changed completely, little shocks of pleasure running from her nipple to between her legs. It was amazing, more than she had ever achieved with her own hands whenever she could get some privacy at night, and the feeling doubled when he grasped her untouched breast, his long claws estimulating the other nipple.

She sunk both her hands in his hair, fisting it in an effort to keep herself from squirming too much, feeling both aroused and impatient. She kept waiting for him to tire of her chest and move further down but when he was finally done sucking her nipples his head moved north, his lips blinding searching for hers till they were kissing. It wasn’t anything like any kiss she had experienced before, not even the unpleasant smack her former fiance had forced on her. Though it was just as forceful there was a wild quality to it, one she had never associated with the affectionate gesture. It was heavenly, the release of passion, far from cooling her down, setting her on fire, stoking her need for him till it felt like she would explode if he didn’t give her relief. 

He must have sensed it, her desperation calling to him like a siren song, because at some point he let go of her mouth to travel south, past her aching chest, and velvet-covered belly to where the skirts of her long gown kept her modestly covered. He wasted no time dragging the heavy fabric up, letting it pool around her hips along with the white linen of her shift. She did not have any other undergarments, having not been provided with any, so she was completely exposed to his gaze, from her milky things to her round hips. She squirmed, trying to picture what he must be looking at, the trim thatch of chestnut curls at the apex of her legs, obscenely drenched by this point and making a poor show of trying to hide the pink, glistening flesh beneath.

“What a lovely cunt you have.” His voice was dark, guttural, a monster trying to speak like a man. It thrilled her. “Let me drink from it, precious.”

He didn’t wait for her reply, choosing instead to simply bury his head against her flesh, his tongue rough and wide as it lapped at her field parting them to seek out the bundle of nerves that was throwing for attention. She arched her back, feeling like it was only her firm grip on her thigh and hip what kept her anchored to the table. She fell into a rhythm of sorts, her body seeking out something she could not find but his mouth striving to compensate, to give her what she needed. It was heavenly and seemed to last an eternity, the sensations building up till everything but them faded away, all sensations muted. She felt him move to, thrusting his hips against the edge of the table, making it rattle in a way that spoke of his sheer brute force. It was heady to have someone like Rumplestiltskin, who had always strived to don the mask of a gentleman around her, be so unhinged, so animalistic. More than anything it was that complete loss of control what drove her over the edge. She cried out, feeling her inner muscles coil and her senses spiral out of control, her orgasm leaving her dizzy. It seemed to last forever and not nearly long enough. She laid there for a while after the feeling passed, feeling satisfied and wanting at the same time. A few seconds later he also keened, slumping against her still-parted legs, his hair tickling the soft skin of her inner thighs.

They lay that way for what seemed like ages, while they scrambled to try and collect themselves. The afterglow did not feel awkward or uncomfortable, and it loosened up her tongue enough to venture out that she had hoped for an even more intimate act, a joining that was even deeper than what they had done.

 “A deal for such a prize would have to involve all my deepest secrets, my most valuable truths.” He paused, pressing his forehead against the silky inside of her thigh, like a penitent would. “One day, perhaps.”

...

“Do you want to meet? I think it’s time.”

The orgasm had mellowed him out, otherwise he was sure he would’ve at least panicked a little bit. But in the afterglow of what they had just shared, albeit virtually, a meeting did not seem like such a bad idea. In hushed voices they arranged the time and place, tomorrow at a café and bistro in Boston. Nice and public, for both their safety. They knew both lived near Boston, so it seemed natural to pick the city. The drive wasn’t too bad, and he hoped it wasn’t a great inconvenience to her either.

Reluctantly they said their goodbyes, both trying to prolong the moment a bit more till they were both close to nodding off. With a final, reluctant goodbye they both disconnected, leaving Gold to clean himself up and make his way home. With his rumpled suit, disheveled hair and five o’clock shadow it must have looked like the walk of shame. It certainly didn’t feel that way.

...

He woke up in a happy mood, perhaps the best in a long time. Far from feeling stupid or embarrassed about his little bit of roleplaying-turned-porn-session he felt smug, empowered by the notion that he had made a smart, desirable woman come with only his voice and imagination. He felt like he was on the brink of something, as if an exciting possibility was opening up for him. 

He went about his day with a bit of a spring in his step, though most citizens of Storybrooke would be pressed to notice. It was only when he saw the book on gardening he was due to return to the library that afternoon- his two Moth orchids had developed small water-soaked spots on the leaves and he had wanted to consult some verified sources instead of relying exclusively on Google search results- that his mood dampened somewhat. As nice as last night had been- bloody fantastic rather- it did make him sad, somewhat, to give up his crush on Belle French. However unattainable it was still nice to have it, that bit of feeling that did not need to be reciprocated to be real. It had been nice to feel something for someone for a change, to look forward to each smile and each small conversation. But it wouldn’t be right, and what he had now was more valuable in any case. Perhaps, with time, he would grow out of his infatuation with the librarian and they could be friends. That would be rather lovely.

He crossed the street towards the library around three o’clock, wanting to beat the rush caused by children being let off school, a busy time for one of the only kid-friendly places in Storybrooke. There were some patrons about, and the afternoon light made the library look truly beautiful. Miss French truly worked miracles with her limited budget.

He found her easily, shelving a few books in the poetry section, and tried not to preen when she smiled widely at him.

“Mr Gold, hi! Always a pleasure. Here to return a book?”

The librarian was always sunny and welcoming, but she looked even happier that day, an excited sort of energy practically rolling off of her in waves. Thank goodness he had decided to give up on his silly little crush, otherwise he might have buckled under the power of her brightness. 

“Yes. And you look particularly happy today, Miss French, if I might say so.”

The librarian smiled even more, if possible, and leaned close, as if to tell him a secret.

“I have a date tonight.”

It hurt, the slightest bit, the shock making him take a step back, but less than it would have yesterday. And perhaps, he reasoned, this would be good. This would put them both in the path of becoming friends, allowing him to leave his crush behind much faster. He forced himself to enquire politely after the lucky man, listening as she talked about someone she had been flirting with for a long time now, and it seemed like the relationship was finally ready for the next step.

“I’m really happy. And very nervous. It feels like such a risk, after all this time building something that could easily fizzle out with a first date. But I’ve always believed in doing the brave thing, and bravery will follow. It’s what my mother always said.”

She had turned back to shelve a book as she finished the last sentence, so thankfully she did not see his jaw drop and his eyes widen, his surprise so visible no one could’ve missed it. His heart lurched in his chest, sheer and sudden panic making it difficult to breathe. Fuck. Fuck. It wasn’t possible. Belle was Beauty. Belle was Beauty. He tried to contradict the notion in his head but he had known Beauty’s British accent was passable but fake, and it made sense for him not to have identified her voice when she usually spoke with her natural Australian drawl, something he associated so closely with her. Everything else he had ever found out about Beauty, in and out of the D&D setting, coincided with what he knew, or thought he knew, about the librarian, one of the reasons why he had developed a crush on her in the first place.

The initial shock was followed by a spike of elation and then a sinking feeling of dread. He needed to cancel. She would be disappointed, but more disappointed if he didn’t and she realised her crush was a man a good deal older than her that was known for being the town monster. It would be awkward and she would not be able to escape him after it, both doomed to meet each other often, given the small size of the town. He could not put her through that.

He stopped himself then, noticing the familiar dark turn of his thoughts, dipped in so much self-loathing it was almost stifling. And he wondered if he really was thinking about Belle or about himself. Being a coward, taking the easy way out. He thought about how he had woken up, the world full of promise and the future bright with the possibility of something great on the horizon. And how he had felt brave last night, to leap into something that had been so worth it. Perhaps it was time to be brave more often. Do something, however small. Put the ball in her court, somehow.

“I wish you the best of luck, then. Perhaps some other time, if you’re not too busy, you could pop into my shop. I have a few antique books I feel you would appreciate.”

It was a nice recovery, and he was happy to see her smile, apparently welcoming the proposition. Everyone knew Mr Gold’s shop was only to be entered when making deals. He didn’t really allow idle perusal of his stock and no one had the money or interest to buy his antiques. His business was conducted mostly with people from major cities on the East Coast.

“Wow, an open invitation to traipse into Mr Gold’s shop, that’s not something one sees everyday. What do you want in return? I hear only deals can grant you access to the shop.”

She made sure to make it clear she was joking, something he appreciated. Feeling emboldened by her kind gesture he adopted a slightly higher pitch and replied:

“Oh, nothing much. Companionship, perhaps a game of chess, some good wine, conversation and the like.”

Being close enough he got to see as it dawned on her, as her brain quickly processed what he had said and where she had heard it before. And he knew, knew because of the way she looked at him, as if she did not recognise him, as if he was a brand new person to her, that she understood the implication, what he had meant to tell her without actually telling her. 

“Hope to see you soon, then. Good luck with the date.”

He turned around before he could second-guess himself, feeling terrified by what he had exposed but satisfied at the same time. This way it was Belle’s choice to show up. For all she knew he had no idea that she was Beauty. She could make up an excuse and simply not meet her, and their worlds would never merge. If she did not want to pursue anything between them all she had to do is cancel the date, or not show up. He would respect her decision and never push for anything, or acknowledge their online relationship in the real world.

He sent her an email just as he was about to get into his car, letting her know that he understood that this meeting was a bit of a risk and he would understand if she backed out at the last minute. There were other things he could do in Boston, and he was not adverse to having dinner by himself. And they could still be friends, no matter what she decided. He was halfway to Boston when he heard his cell phone ping, letting him know he had a new email. As he expected, it was from Beauty:

“I’m on my way. Can’t wait to meet you! See you soon.”

He smiled.

[pauvre-lola]

17 with hesme + astarion?

thank you ❤️✨

17)What senses (sights, smells, feelings, etc). remind them of each other?

Well, for someone who spends a questionnable amount of time with his nose ( and teeth ) stucks in her neck, Astarion has become quite familiar with Hesmeline's perfume. It's something like, very sweet and powdered, kinda heavy to be honest, mixed up with the smell ( and taste ? ) of blood. Kind of owerpowering and clings to his clothes for a very long time, as if some annoying little piece of her was stuck with him. Now anything that vaguely smells like rose and vanilla reminds him of her ( and kinda makes him hungry..................... pavlov who ).

Hesmeline tends to associate people with places, sceneries. Moramant was the rose garden behind her home, Salomé the hills they ran to, her little brother the forest they used to play in, stuff like that. She's not sure if the night sky reminds her of Astarion, or the opposite ( the chicken, the egg, the egg or the chicken ? whatever ), but she knows it began that night, where the stars were beautiful and he evoked the end of their adventure, and she put one single tentative kiss on his knuckles. She hadn't look at the sky for such a long time, before. Maybe she likes the night, the moon and the stars a little bit more.

otp asks

[lesbian-in-leather]

Matthew, for the character asks :)

Oh hell yeah

A song that reminds me of them: not sure if this counts because it kind of ties him to Mary instead of being him alone, but If I Could Tell Her from DEH (the musical as a whole is questionable but I do still like the songs) ((also Without You from RENT reminds me of their relationship))

What they smell like: I feel like he always smells a little like a forest - something Mary and Violet in particular would mock him for early on in the series. After they married, he also began smelling of Mary's perfume

OTP: Matthew/Mary - I feel like everyone saw that coming from the first two answers but they're so cuuuute ♡

NoTP: Matthew/Edith - I hate Edith anyway so this shouldn't be a suprise (but it was funny to watch her throw herself at him while he was just. Clearly not interested)

Fave platonic/familial relationship: Tom!! I think they had a lot in common and just a really good dynamic in general (wish we'd gotten to see more of them 💔)

Popular headcanon I disagree with: I haven't been in the fandom long enough to know any of the popular headcanons but like... if y'all want to send me some I'll give my opinions

Position they sleep in: I think he would like to be the big spoon (he gives me protective vibes) but after the war he tends to subconsciously curl into a tight little ball as he sleeps (yay I made myself a lil bit sad)

Crossover AU I'd love to see them in: ngl I think it'd be really cool to see a Narnia crossover where Matthew is Peter. And like, the Crawley girls could replace the other Pevensies. Idk I just think it'd be cool

And not to be a massive cliche but I also think it'd be fun to see Matthew as the Gryffindor prefect and Mary as the Ravenclaw one, evolving into head girl/head boy like... it'd be funny

Fave outfit they've ever worn: okay EITHER his army uniform because VIBES or his shooting outfit because he looks adorable with his dumb lil hat

[hazelhalfpint]

“Your hair is really soft” for your InuYasha OTP for the fluff prompts 🤗

I’ve always wanted to feel Inuyasha’s hair. 😭 I hope you enjoy this little one shot

——

The sky was empty, the previously visible waning crescent moon no longer visible in the night; the night of the new moon. Dark brown eyes flicked from side to side, glancing around the dimly lit forest. The stars giving just enough light for him to see the old well, sitting undisturbed in the clearing. Inuyasha sighed dramatically, slumping against the base of a near by tree. Damn dull human senses. Normally he had Kagome with him during these nights, though he’d never admit it out loud, her presence brought him peace on his human nights.

Would the well even work on his human night? The question rolled around in his mind and before he could stop himself he was up and walking towards the well, hands clinging to the edge as he looked over into the blackness.

Kagome...

He took a deep breath, willing his brain to remember what she smelled like even without his demonic senses. It wouldn’t hurt to try would it? Besides Kagome’s modern world was generally safer, aside from those exams she had to fight at school.

Finally he decided, he’d go visit kagome if the well would allow it. He leapt over the edge, finding the comfort of time flowing around him, and with a soft thud he was there in Kagome’s time.

It didn’t take much for him to haul himself out of the well, and up the tree that sat planted next to her window. He could see her through the open window, her body slumped over on her desk. Her eyes were shut and she was softly snoring, with the papers on her desk fluttering in the evening breeze. Even in human form his body was able to clear the small gap from tree to window, landing somewhat quietly next to her.

“Kagome,” he called her name softly. Her eyes fluttered for a moment, head turning to the other side. She must be exhausted from all those stupid tests, he reasoned. He opted to simply put her to bed and watch over her. He turned her toward him, scooping her into his arms, when he made to move her onto the mattress, her hand came up to his cheek rubbing the skin with her thumb. Her eyes stayed shut but he blushed nonetheless leaning into the affectionate gesture.

“Inuyasha,” she murmured his name as a question, eyes blinking open, fighting the sleep still lingering in them.

“Uh yeah, it’s me.” He blushed a dark red, but held her still as her arms laced around his neck, snuggling into his shoulder.

“Hm, I missed you.” She sighed content as he sat back on her bed, her body nestled in his lap. Had he heard that right? He glanced at her now, his dark eyes searching her face. Her blue grey eyes were wide open now, a soft blush glowing as she smiled at him.

“I didn’t mean to wake you up,” he started but she cut him off.

“ I’m sorry Inuyasha. I didn’t realize how close the new moon was. I should of stayed with you.” She let her fingers dance through his hair, combing through it gently.

“Keh,” he scoffed, turning an even deeper red,”it’s no big deal. I just thought I’d check up on you.”

“Inuyasha?”

“Hmm?” He was still blushing, as she laid cradled against him.

“Your hair is really soft.” Kagome snuggled against him further, placing a soft kiss to the side of his face, her eyes snapping back open as she realized what she had just done.

“I’m sorry, that was out of line. I know you don’t.. I mean, we don’t...”

Inuyasha couldn’t stop himself, his heart thrumming against his ribs. He leaned forward place a soft quick kiss against her lips. She melted against him, her fingers still strumming softly through the threads of his black hair.

“I’m never going to not want you around Kagome. Please remember that. I may have a duty to Kikyo, but you are the one who holds my heart.” He pressed his forehead to hers, twisting a strand of her own hair around his finger.

He grinned as she pressed another kiss to his lips, both of them content to stay just as they were, and for the first in a long time, Inuyasha slept soundly, on the night of the new moon.

[starlightsearches]

For the niche ask game, laszlo kreizler

Hello Reia my love, I'm sorry this took me so long!

a song that reminds me of them

Fine Line by Harry Styles

what they smell like

Laszlo has a very faint scent—like rainfall or the deep parts of a forest. Some of it's natural, although he does like to treat himself to expensive perfumes and soaps that definitely contribute.

an otp

I loved him and Mary in the first season 🥺

a notp

And I fucking hated Karen in the second season. The way she talked annoyed me so bad that I had to pause it every time she came on screen to prepare myself.

favorite platonic/familial relationships

I love him and John's friendship!

a headcanon that is popular in the fandom but that i disagree with

It's probably because I'm not personally interested in it, but I don't think he'd be that interested in hard dom/sub dynamics. I think he's more of a romantic when it comes to sex.

the position they sleep in

Flat on his back with his arm crossed over his chest.

a crossover au i’d love to see them in

I don't know again! I guess I don't spend that much time thinking about crossover AUs.

my favorite outfit they’ve ever worn

Not technically an "outfit" but the scene where he angrily strips his shirt off was, uh, great!

Niche Questions

[varietysky]

Julian!

Thanks Will ❤️

A song that reminds me of them: "My Prerogative" by B*bby Br*wn. Don't like him, but I like the song, and it fits Julian fairly well.

What they smell like: cologne, which is overpowered by the smell of his hair product. I think Julian has hair like Simon, and he would get up early each morning to slick it down

An otp: blaming you for getting me into Cap/Julian! I loved their dynamic in Happy Death Day, and I wish we got more of them being awful together in s2 and s3.

I also like Julian/Thomas a bit 👀

Oh and Robin/Julian is becoming less of a crackship for me. I ship them in a lot of ways since s3. Something happened between them in that forest in the camping episode, and you can't change my mind.

A notp: Julian/Kitty romantically, also Julian/Alison because I've seen that be a thing apparently

Favorite platonic/familial relationships:

Julian/Pat, as I've answered in another ask.

I also like Julian/Kitty, though not as a father figure, but as a bad influence who has a soft spot for her.

Julian/Mike as friends I've loved so much in s3. He's the one who can communicate with Mike th easiest, and I can see them being good friends moving forward. That won't stop Julian from pranking Mike on occasion, but Mike knows it comes from a place of love

I almost forgot Robin/Julian! Love their dynamic, especially in s3. The oldest and the newest ghost having a close bond is really cool.

A headcanon that is popular in the fandom but that I disagree with: this man is Not heterosexual, I'm so sorry

The position they sleep in: we've seen him sleep on his back in the s2 Christmas episode, but I also think he sleeps diagonally across his bed, taking up all the space.

A crossover AU I'd love to see them in: Again, a WWDITS crossover, because I want to see Julian and Colin Robinson debate.

My favorite outfit they've ever worn: His usual outfit, because he's got nice legs 🦵😏