#tags: arch's armed advice

[archsarmedadvice]

What Is War?

Welcome to the introductory Article of Setting Conditions. Today, we shall attempt to answer one of humanity's most ancient questions; what is war? It might seem a trivial question to answer, but we suggest, dear reader, that understanding the varied forms and characteristics that war can take might help you develop and understand the role 'war' and conflict at large could play in a fictional setting.

But First, Why 'War'?

A question both for ourselves at Arch's Armed Advice, and, surely, for you who read it. Conflict and those organisations, people, technology, and impacts associated with it have appeared in literature and writing throughout history, but the specific role that War can play in one's own works can obviously vary. Some might anchor their whole project on a conflict, exploring it in minute detail from every angle; for others, military imagery and associations may simply serve to provide an interesting background for stories focused on other subjects. While the position a work finds itself on within such a spectrum will affect how much effort its writer will likely put into developing this portion of their setting, we here at AAA hope to provide a resource that all writers can learn something from, even with our own proclivity for the more in-depth examples. 'Getting it right', even for works which do not center on war or the military, adds credibility to those stories and their writers, and eases the reader's task of suspending disbelief and immersing themselves within the story and its setting.

What is War... In General?

A situation in which two or more countries or groups of people fight against each other over a period of time - The Oxford English Dictionary

The definition above and others like it both useful and generally accurate, covering most of what might spring up in one's mind when one thinks of 'war' in fiction. While AAA will certainly seek to help our readers develop believable, plausible military conflicts and the entities engaged in them within their Settings, we believe that a crucial step in doing so is to expand our understanding of 'war' beyond the most overt acts of violence and combat.

One Way, Or Another

One of our missions in producing this blog was to open Writers' eyes to the diverse ways that war and its associated topics can play a role in their setting and works, and part and parcel with this is expanding writers' perspectives on the forms that this subject can take. To do this, we must venture beyond 'Great Power Conflicts' and 'Plucky Rebels VS. Evil Empire', into conflicts bearing more resemblance to the Pig War of 1959, the Cod Wars, and others of a less conventional nature which nonetheless may open our eyes to the base principles of War. To understand what connects these varied manifestations of warfare, and to develop your own unique take on conflict which best suits your own work, it helps to know some of the most basic terms and theories behind War. The most cliche example, and thus the one we at AAA will use anyways, is to quote the famed military theorist Clausewitz's old maxim; "War is the continuation of policy with other means..." Countries, demonic cults, and other groups besides may, for one reason or another, find that their interests would be best served by undermining those of another group; war, thus, doesn't exist for its own sake, but only comes about because actors choose to engage in it. Developing the political machinations that underly the competition which, in some but not all cases, may escalate to conflict, is a subject all its own and one deserving of great attention. Plainly obvious disconnects between the interests and stakes of the (fictional parties involved, and the conflicts that us as writers force them to engage in, are among the most glaring weaknesses in any work which might have them. To fix such an issue, we suggest that a writer might take one of two courses; they may decrease the 'intensity' of their existing conflict or competition to something more reasonable, or they may develop these warring parties and their relationships to the point that such intense conflict is not just reasonable, but practically inevitable. In reality, one will likely have to commit a little bit both.

Conflict Vs. Competition

While it might seem strange for Arch's Armed Advice to advocate for the inclusion of non-violent conflicts and competitions in our readers' writing, we believe that their presence can only add value to any open wars that may occur in the same works, even without considering how interesting they can be on their own. To add nuance and believability to a conflict, it can be helpful to develop the pre-existing tensions between the parties about to embark on it, presenting specific instances where their interests had previously been in opposition. What, precisely, those interests will be, is entirely up to writers themselves, and we at AAA will likely not be able to provide so much aid in that highly contextually dependent field. We will, however, attempt to provide what advice we can when it comes to developing some of the actions and decisions that these competing actors might make, and the myriad factors they might have to consider in making them.

Conclusion

War is many things, but for us at AAA it is a subject that we hope many more writers might turn to exploring and developing on their own terms within their works and settings. Having done our best to define that most complex topic, we hope that over the course of our future publications we will be able to impart some useful, applicable knowledge on our readers on their creative journeys.

The_Archmagos

[thetruearchmagos]

Welcome!

To the introductory issue of Arch's Armed Advice, here on Tumblr!

Run from this account, this project hopes to offer creatives and Worldbuilders everywhere only the finest, most useful aid and support when it comes to creating works related to militaries and warfare. In that, we hope to primarily direct our energies into the field of Worldbuilding, providing advice and support when it comes to crafting the lore and background of your setting.

At the moment, what we're tentatively titling Volume I should cover three Issues. The first, Logistics And Your Settings, is already spoken for, but the remaining two are open for now! If you have any topics in mind, do reach out and let us know. We'd love to hear from you!

- Arch

[sukuna-dees-nuts]

@nessieartss i did it again lol

based on this ask and this ask because i couldn't get "rizzless sukuna" out of my head 😭 (and also Maki being one of Sukuna's friends is relevant which is why i tagged that ask)

anyway, please enjoy!!

Edit: part 2!!

---

Sukuna can’t keep the scowl off his face as he watches Yuuji from across the courtyard. He watches as his little brother effortlessly jokes with his friends, his face and movements animated enough that they’re clear even from so far away. Yuuji has always been the more charismatic of the two brothers; always the one to make friends first. 

Yuuji throws his head back in laughter, casually throwing his arm around Megumi’s shoulders. Sukuna feels a twinge of jealousy in his gut and he can’t stop the grunt that escapes his throat. 

How ridiculous is he? Getting jealous over nothing. It’s laughable. Sukuna doesn’t get jealous! 

Except… the more he watches his little brother interact with Megumi, the more he finds himself wishing that he could hang out with Megumi—

“Oh fuck me,” he groans, rubbing his hands over his face. 

“What’s got your panties in a twist?” 

Sukuna looks up. Maki takes a seat next to him on the steps, a meticulous brow arched in intrigue. He’s quiet for a moment as he rests his elbows on his knees. While he considers Maki to be one of his closest (and one of his only) friends, Sukuna briefly contemplates brushing his inner turmoil aside. This is her cousin, after all. Would she really want to hear about Sukuna’s stupid crush that he barely acknowledges himself?

Ah, fuck it, he thinks and sits up straighter. 

“How do you ask someone out?”

Maki blinks, taken aback by the question. She holds Sukuna’s gaze as if trying to gauge whether or not he’s being serious. Her mouth presses into a thin line.

“Depends on who you’re wanting to ask out,” she responds with a casual shrug. As she reaches up to fix her ponytail, she asks, “Are you saying that you’ve never asked anyone out before?”

Sukuna sniffs and says nothing, running his tongue over his teeth. His attention turns to his nails, examining them for any chips in the nail polish.

“It’s never been relevant before,” Sukuna grumbles. Out of the corner of his eye, he can see Maki shift. She nods slowly with a hum of acknowledgement. 

“So, who is it?” Maki asks.

“Huh?” 

“The person you want to ask out, who is it?” she asks again.

This time, Sukuna hesitates to answer. He’s never been one to be ashamed of his preferences; he always makes his thoughts clear whether it shows on his face or in his words. Like the time when Sukuna argued that the Star Wars franchise was “extremely overrated” and Yuuji nearly had a heart attack (he still hasn’t let it go).

Finally, with a sigh, Sukuna answers in another grumble, “Fushiguro.”

The silence that stretches out between them is loud. Sukuna thinks for a moment that Maki might have gotten up and left. When he looks to the side, he finds that she’s still sitting there, staring at him, an unreadable expression on his face. He fully expects her to start laughing at him, but, she doesn’t. 

Maki continues staring at Sukuna until he narrows his eyes at her, opening his mouth to tell her to just forget about it and fuck off—

“Oh, you’re actually serious,” she huffs. “For a moment I thought you were pulling my leg.”

Sukuna feels his irritation ebb and he rolls his eyes. “Why the hell would I make a joke like that? There are other things I could use to bully you with. Like your stupid glasses. They don’t fit your face.”

Ignoring the comment, Maki goes on, “Fushiguro isn’t one for extravagance. If you really want to ask him out, you should pull him off to the side and ask him privately. He’d appreciate that.” The bell rings, signaling that it’s time for the next class. Maki and Sukuna get to their feet. 

“Also, it would do you well to work on your tactfulness,” the girl adds over her shoulder as she begins to walk away.

Sukuna flips her off. “Fuck you. I’m not asking you for advice anymore.”

He watches as his friend heads back inside before turning his attention back to Megumi who is walking in the opposite direction of his two friends. Sukuna runs a hand through his hair, exhaling a long breath. 

It’s another few seconds of watching Megumi walk before Sukuna’s feet start moving, carrying him in the same direction and he mentally curses at himself again.

Fuck it. Let’s do this.

[prophecyofwinter]

Se Riña Qilōni Iprattan Se Jēdar | III

Aemond Targaryen x Reader

Summary | Saera Targaryen daughter of Jaehaerys I ran away from Westeros to escape her fate. 45 years later her daughter Y/N Targaryen, with invitation from King Viserys wishes to go back.

Tags | Slowburn, TargCest, Smut, Standard ASOIAF content, Aemond and Reader are First Cousins Once Removed, tags to be added

Prologue | Chapter II | Chapter IV | Masterlist

Chapter III | High Lord , Low Lady

You were so unfathomably nervous, your palms were sweating and your head was full, all the advice you’d received back home flew out the window.

Normally you were so confident and headstrong, where did it all go??

How are you supposed to present yourself? Gods, what do you do with your hands? Do you hold them folded? Behind? Held to your chest?

Walking through the dock only made your heart race faster as you were nearing closer by the second. You straighten yourself up and mentally ask for R’hllor’s blessing as you are stopped in front of a carriage by guards.

You gaze at the carriage itself, made of dark wood with curved arches overhead and crisscrossed cutouts for windows.

“Prince Aemond of House Targaryen!”

You become stiff as wood as the doors of the carriage are opened by a guard. Ducking under the door frame is a man with long straight white hair wearing all black leather. When he stands straight you notice his sharp features, most distinguishably the eyepatch on his left eye. You try not to stare too much to not offend.

By the time you process him fully he is already in front of you, blocking the sun from your eyes.

“I-It is a great pleasure to finally meet you Prince Aemond.” You sputter out, your nerves taking over your vocal cords. He was honestly very handsome, it was unfortunate you hadn’t heard anyone speak much of his looks besides the lost eye.

Without replying he simply grabs one of your shaky hands and brings it to his lips, pressing a soft kiss to the back. He comes back up to make eye contact, his purple eyes gazing into your own. You might pass away on the spot, the wrath of the sun burns on you tenfold in the moment.

“Your beauty truly precedes you Y/N. I wanted to personally welcome you to Kings Landing. As your soon-to-be betrothed I felt it was my duty to be the first person you met.” He speaks to you in a low tone, he is rather close to you so he does not need to talk loud. His way with words didn’t help at all, you could feel a slight wetness forming between your thighs.

He holds out his leather covered arm for you to grab onto. As you do, you could feel his toned muscles through the leather. You pray you haven’t made an absolute fool of yourself acting like a blushing virgin, which you were but.

“Thank you Prince Aemond, you’re too kind…”

“No need to thank me, it is simply what I must do.” He says with the same tone as before giving your arm a gentle caress. You can’t help but wonder if there’s multiple meanings to that.

He leads you to the carriage passing through the line of knights, they all look stiff and they stare forward. You thought they would look scarier, they just look like normal men. The soldiers and guards in Volantis look like beasts, scars so bad you couldn’t even tell there’s a face behind their helm, going through withdrawal if they have not killed an infant in a week. They reek of blood, booze and cum.

Westeros must be a very peaceful place if their army’s look like this.

When you approach the carriage, one baby faced guard opens the door for you both. Aemond loosens his hold on you, just holding you by your hand to guide you up the carriage steps.

“Ahem.”

Oh right.

Your brother steps forward, armor making a soft clang with every step. He must’ve polished his red armor today, the shine on it must be bright enough to blind a man. He stands tall and proud, a few paces away from you and Aemond.

“Oh, apologies. This is my half-brother Vaegon. My mother- Our mother sent him with me to make sure I settle in okay.” You looked to Aemond, gesturing to your brother slightly annoyed. You were trying to balance yourself properly on the steps, one foot on the first step and the other on the second step.

“Ah, that’s quite alright. Sending a young woman such as yourself across the sea shouldn’t be done alone.” Aemond states and rubs your hand with his thumb, still holding it. He gestures to you to enter the carriage, then turns to your brother with a tight lipped smile.

“Vaegon was it? You have my thanks for accompanying my betrothed to Kings Landing. You may walk with the rest of the guards to the Red Keep.” Aemond said as he stepped into the carriage himself, smile faltering only slightly.

Vaegon opened his mouth to protest but was met with the carriage doors shutting in his face.

Now it was just you and Aemond, alone…

You pinched at your dress while attempting to keep eye contact with him.

You feel a jolt of movement and you know the carriage has begun to make its journey up to the Red Keep.

“Apologies, my Prince for my state of dress. I haven’t brought any handmaidens with me. If I had known how much of a struggle clothes of this country were to get into I would’ve brought someone to help.” You say flipping your eyes between his eyes and the top of his head.

Aemond sits back into the plush seating crossing his arms and legs. His gaze burns into your skin, you can see his eye start at your collar bone and trail down to your open cleavage.

You hadn’t expected to be reduced to a mess just in his presence. Your plans of confidence dwindled and anxiety replaced the space it left.

“Apologizing this much is unbecoming if you wish to become a lady. No one here will treat you well if they see how nervous you are. As for your dress, it’s not that different from what some ladies wear during the hotter months, just less… openness. You’ll have proper clothes tailored to you soon enough.” His tone has become blunt, compared to what he was like moments before with his sweet gestures.

“Please forgive- I mean! I just have never been alone with a man like this before. Especially a man like yourself, my Prince. I’ve spent most of my life in the company of other women… I do not wish to embarrass myself further.” You attempt to compose yourself in a more becoming manner. Straightening your back and folding your shaky hands in front of you instead of picking at your skirt; eye contact is something you’ll have to work on.

Aemond lets out a hum of…? You can’t quite tell. Aemond makes no move to continue the conversation, instead opting to stare at you, as though he can read your life story just by a glance.

Will it always be this unsettling? Maybe your hopes were set too high? You two are strangers, surely he is just as nervous as you are.

Neither of you exchanged any more words for the rest of the carriage ride. The sound of the horses' hooves clopping on the stone floor and the sounds of common folk around the city being the only sounds you hear for the rest of the ride.

You let out a soft breath when the carriage rocked to a halt. You look out the window and the first thing you notice is a red haired woman dressed in a dress of green and gold, you knew with absolute certainty that this must be Queen Alicent.

Suddenly, Aemond grabs your arm, tugging you to him to grab your attention. His purple eye stone cold staring into your pair, you felt small and helpless like a beggar girl begging for bread.

“Pull yourself together and present yourself properly. This is my mother, the Queen. Do not make anyone regret allowing you here.”

————

🏷️: @toodlesxcuddles @blackgirlmagicforever @yourwonkywriter

[fairysluna]

INVISIBLE STRING | Chapter 4: you must like me for me.

New Girl!AU — A disastrous break up led you to them; three guys living in a huge apartment and in need of a new roommate who helped with the way too expensive rent.

MASTERLISTㅤ | ㅤSERIES MASTERLISTㅤ | ㅤPHOTO CREDIT

PAIRING - Modern!Aegon II Targaryen x Fem!Reader.

SUMMARY - the unexpected presence of Aegon in your room brings the so desired moment of him finally seeing you as a friend. However, you were never good at giving advice and it all ends in a big mess.

TW/TAGS - cursing, body dysmorphia, mentions of blood, insecurities, this might be considered as a slight chubby!aegon, make out session, mentions of nudity, slow burn, friends to lovers, things get heated but nothing happens. If something is missing pls let me know!!

AUTHOR'S NOTE - hi everyone, do you remember this fic? lmao. i know it's been MONTHS since i posted sth for this story, but well, i finally got the inspiration to write this, so this came out. I promise to be fully dedicated to this fic bc it's time i finish this already and bc im excited for it!! now im on vacations so i guess I'll have more time so... thank you if you waited for this fic, and thank you for reading!!🤍

WORD COUNT - 4.6k

PREV CHAPTERㅤ | ㅤNEXT CHAPTER

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ english is not my first language.

When you finally entered the loft your right hand was holding three files filled with tests for you to grade while the other one was carrying your bag and the keys of your home. You quickly scanned the living room to see if someone was there in order to greet them, but it was empty and messy as usual; leftovers of pizza and a half empty bottle of Coke soda in the center table. “It must've been Aegon”, you thought.

With a sigh you walked towards your room, worrying not to drop anything from your hands and thanking the gods as you saw the door slightly open. You kicked it, accidentally hard enough to make it smack against the wall behind it, and as soon as you looked inside the room, your eyes widened in surprise and all the things that were held by your trembling arms fell around the floor.

Aegon was standing in the middle of your room, shirtless and in the middle of flexing his muscles right in front of your mirror. He noticed your presence immediately, and he ran towards his shirt that was laying on your bed and covered his naked chest with a wild expression remarkably printed on his now red face.

"What are you doing here?" He asked, breathlessly.

"This is my room!" you quickly replied, ignoring the thousands of papers that were now scattered on the floor.

"Weren't you supposed to arrive at six? It's four pm!" Aegon rapidly put his shirt back on.

"We- they let us go home earlier because it's the school's anniversary- what are you doing here?" you spoke, stammering and interrupting yourself. You were still a bit taken aback with this whole situation.

There was a slight moment of doubt in Aegon's mind that was quite evident for your observant eye; he looked away from you as his arms crossed in front of his chest to cover himself even when he was no longer exposing himself. You arched your eyebrow, silently insisting on an answer or some kind of explanation; two days ago you could have sworn he did not like you, but now seeing him standing in your room in such a condition made you overthink everything.

However, before you could think about questioning his lack of words, Aegon sighed loud enough for you to hear the embarrassment and resignation, and soon a mumble followed.

"You have a mirror," he replied.

His response did nothing but confused you even more. A frown appeared on your face, one small gesture that Aegon might have misinterpreted as an angered one if he hadn't known you enough.

"A mirror?" Aegon nodded.

"You're the only one who has one in the bedroom, and-"

"What about the bathroom?" You interrupted out of pure curiosity. "And Aemond has one too."

"Jace has been taking a shit for hours and Aemond forbade me to enter his room since what happened the last time." You were about to open your mouth to ask about it, but he was faster. "Don't ask," he warned you, and you pressed your lips together, remaining silent. "Listen, just forget this. I'm gonna leave right now, and we'll pretend this never happened. Okay?"

He started to walk towards you in order to cross the doorframe behind you. He passed right next to you, and for some unknown reason, your body decided to act before your mind could even process what was going on. Before you even noticed, your hand was wrapped around Aegon's wrist in a grip that was surprisingly strong. Aegon froze right in the spot and the first thing he did was to watch your hand, to then lift his face and lay his deep, lavender eyes on you.

Your jaw clenched, unsure of what to do since everything seemed to be happening strangely fast. The situation was confusing, and it made you act out of instinct leaving you standing there beside him, with just a few seconds left to say something before it turned into something awkward and weird.

Aegon, who would naturally and instinctively reject other people's touch, did not even attempt to push you away from him; he just waited until you removed your hand from his wrist. His reaction was quickly excused by his own mind, thinking that it was only because you took him by surprise.

"Uh…" you muttered, still trying to process what to say, "if- if there's something troubling you, you can tell me, you know? Maybe it's something I can help with."

He just shrugged, trying to make it seem unimportant.

"Not really," he said, leaving the room afterwards without saying another word.

You sighed, resigned to only be seen as his roommate and not as a friend. You tried not to think about it while you kneeled down to pick up the files and papers that fell from your hands when you entered your room, because you did not want it to let it bother you.

But, when you managed to put all your things on your desk, you turned around and saw Aegon standing in the doorway with arms crossed and a defeated look on his face, which had a slight pinkish tone that you would have found adorable in another situation.

"Actually, yes," he started, stepping into the room and closing the door behind him, as if he was scared of someone else listening to the conversation. "I kinda need help with something… I- uh, well, you are a girl so you probably know about this stuff, so…"

It was a difficult task for you to hide the emotion that lightened up your face after hearing his words, finally seeing the perfect opportunity to bond with the guy that has been avoiding you for weeks.

"Of course," you replied, trying not to speak too fast. "I can help you with anything."

"Alright." He nodded, looking down at the floor as he seemed to be putting some order to his words before they left his mouth. "So, the girl you saw the other day, the girl in the bar, remember?"

"I knew you liked her!"

"Well, I just want to bang her, but that's one way to put it," Aegon shrugged after his explanation, while you pressed your lips. "The thing is that, I think she's super hot and gorgeous, and way out of my league, and-"

"Oh, Aegon, you are handsome too!" You interrupted, and he quickly started to look impatient.

"Yeah, but that's not the point," he said, exasperated. "The thing is, the last time that I had sex, the girl I was fucking- uh… well, she said something about my body that really took me off."

"What did she say?" You curiously asked.

"She kinda made fun of it," he replied quickly, as if he was embarrassed.

Your eyes softened immediately after, and your first instinct was to touch him to give him support; however, halfway there you remembered he did not like those gestures, so your hand ended up in the air and seconds later you put it back. Aegon's breath was caught in his throat as he saw how your hand was so close to his skin.

"I'm sorry, Aegon."

"And now I can't get naked in front of this hot girl, even when I really want to!" He cleared his throat, and his tone suddenly changed, now being more angered rather than sad. "I just want to get laid, but I can't! This chick cursed me or something."

"You're not cursed," you said, trying to comfort him somehow. "Listen, you need to work on your self confidence, and-"

"And how do I do that?"

"Do what?"

"How can I work on my self confidence?"

You frowned, "I don't- I'm not sure how-"

"Oh come on!" He raised his voice with exasperation. "You're a teacher! Aren't you supposed to give guidance to your students?"

"Well, my students don't usually ask for sexual advice from their teacher so…"

"You need to help me, please," he pleaded, and you could clearly see the despair in his eyes begging you to say something useful.

You knew you could not fuck this up, not when it was probably the only chance you could have to bond with him after days trying to make him look at you as a friend. Inside of your mind you tried to remember anything that could work in this situation, all those psychology seminars you attended during your college days were coming back to your mind as you thought of an answer.

"Well, you can… try to stand naked in front of a mirror, maybe after you shower, and see the qualities of your body that you like the most."

“Would that work?”

“It might.”

“You sure?”

“Uh… Yes.”

He stood there, silently looking at the floor as he nodded. He muttered something that sounded like a ‘thanks’, and then he slowly turned around. He was visibly embarrassed, he was feeling too vulnerable to look at your face after opening up to you. Of course you immediately noticed, and, as you tried to ignore it, you found some words that you thought he might need to hear.

"Aegon," you called him, and he froze with one foot out of the room and the other inside. He turned around to look at you over his shoulder, and you sighed, "just remember that every person has his own concept of beauty, and only because someone didn't appreciate yours, it doesn't mean other girls won't… We are all beautiful under the right pair of eyes."

He clenched his jaw, gave you a small –almost unnoticeable– nod, and he left. You stood there for a few more seconds before you returned your attention to what you were supposed to be doing. The papers that now were on your desk, were waiting for you to grade them. Just the mere thought of reading through them made you sigh with exhaustion.

It was going to be a long day.

A knock on your door got you distracted enough for you to stop doing your task. The pen dropped from your hand as you turned around to find Jace with a soft smile on his face. You smiled back at him.

“Hey,” you greeted him.

“Are you too busy?” He asked, “I've brought some Chinese food to eat for dinner.”

“Let me finish revising these papers and I'll be there in a minute,” you said as he nodded.

He was about to leave, but then he returned. “Oh, I almost forgot,” he started, “the bathroom lock is broken, so you need to knock before you get in, just in case we're inside.”

“Are you guys gonna buy a new one?”

“Yes. Aemond will go tomorrow after work, we'll divide the costs afterwards,” he explained.

“Oh, alright.”

“Now, hurry or the food will get cold,” he said, and then left the room leaving the door open.

You managed to finish the paper a few minutes later, and then you went to the bathroom to wash your hands before going to eat with the rest. You did what you were told, and you knocked on the door. You waited a couple of seconds, making sure no one would reply from inside before you finally opened the door.

As soon as you opened it, you saw Aegon standing in front of the mirror and staring at himself. Naked.

“Oh, Gods!” you yelped. Your eyes involuntarily taking a quick look over him.

Damn.

“What the fuck?!” he screamed, covering his nudity with both of his hands and wildly blushing.

“Oh gods, I'm so sorry-”

“Get out!”

You acted so quickly that your legs tumbled against each other on your way out. The loud sound of the door closing behind your back echoed in the empty hall as you covered your mouth with your hand, a nervous giggle escaped from your lips before you could even try to hold it back. Your eyes were wide open, and your mind tried to process what you had just seen; Aegon fully naked.

Aemond and Jace soon appeared in the hall as they heard the screaming and the door slam. You looked at them with your breathing fast and sharp, staring at them as if you've seen a ghost. Their curiosity peaked.

“What happened?” Aemond asked, visibly worried.

“Uh- I…”

“Are you okay?” he asked again, and you started to feel a bit overwhelmed.

“I just- I need to- uh… wait for me a bit, I'll- I'll be back in a minute.”

The heat on your cheeks was impossible to ignore as you locked yourself in your room, completely ignoring their questions; you were panicking. You felt dumb, and you closed your eyes frustrated knowing that you screwed it up. You invaded his space and now he will, inevitably, put some distance with you. Now you just wanted to bury your face in the pillow out of embarrassment. How were you supposed to talk to him now that you saw him in all his glory?

And, oh gods, there was glory.

You were ashamed of what just happened; or maybe you just felt embarrassed because you couldn't help but blush at the memory of his body.

The pillow between your hands went straight to your face, muffling the groan that you let go as you fell onto your bed. Gods, you were fucked.

That very same early morning, after finishing their shift, Aegon was supposed to make his first move on the girl who had been in his mind. It was already closing time, the bar was empty at 5am and there was only him and Ceryse. She would occasionally glance at him hoping he would notice that she wore her tightest shirt for him. However, Aegon was busy trying to cheer himself up, trying to forget about that stupid chuckle of yours that still echoed in his mind, haunting him like a fucking ghost.

He had heard you, and –of course– his insecurities made him think the worst.

He was so nervous. It was almost embarrassing how sweaty his palms were; the situation was out of his control and he hated it. He was barely able to focus on his task, absentmindedly cleaning a glass with a cloth as he tried so hard to ignore her presence just to not feel so anxious. His shaky hands failed, and his plan to go unnoticed was unsuccessful; the glass slipped from his fingers and broke into pieces on the floor.

Ceryse widened her eyes and she immediately went to help him, which only made things worse for him. In a desperate attempt to keep her away, he kneeled on the floor and started to pick the glasses with his bare hands, causing small cuts all over his fingers as he did. Low curses and soft moans left his lips as the pinching pain appeared, and Ceryse —as lovely as always— tried to stop him by grabbing his hands and forcing him to stand up.

“You fool,” she mumbled, looking at the bleeding cuts on his fingertips. “You hurted yourself.”

“It's not a big deal-”

“Let me get the emergency kit, don't do anything,” she went to the manager’s office and came back in about a minute later with a red and white box in her hands. Aegon was breathing heavily. He had never felt so insecure.

With the help of a forceps, she started to remove the tiny pieces of glass from his fingers. Aegon would hold his breath, not being able to control his heartbeat when he had her so close to him; he was able to smell her perfume and see her cleavage. He knew he had to be excited, he knew he had all the reasons to enjoy that moment, but you and your stupid giggle refused to leave his mind.

“There,” she murmured as she finished. “Nice and clean.”

Aegon looked at his fingers and noticed how small drops of blood were forming in the tiny cuts. Ceryse took a small tissue and gently tapped on the wounds, cleaning them. Aegon had his lips slightly parted, stiff as a rock as he was almost scared to move. He cursed again, and she softly smiled at him as she finished.

“There you go,” she said, “clean and healed.”

“Uh… Thanks,” Aegon replied, giving her an awkward smile.

She remained silent for a bit, looking at him up and down through her long, blonde lashes. She was visibly flirting with him, but he seemed to be ignoring her. Ceryse had been waiting long enough for him to make the first move, so she now took advantage of their situation; both of them completely alone in the closed bar, about to finish their night shift. She wasn't going to let this opportunity go.

“Are you done playing that game?” She asked. Aegon frown.

“What?”

“I've noticed the way you look at me, Aegon…” she murmured. His breathing was caught on his throat when she started to slowly unbutton her blouse. “I want to let you know that… I've been wanting the same thing for a long time.”

“What- I- uh… what?”

She giggled, and it was the sexiest sound he had ever heard, yet it wasn't enough to suppress your goddamn laugh. A small ‘fuck’ escaped his lips before he could hold it back, and her hands were pressed on his thighs as she leaned towards him. Aegon hummed, cheeks burning red as he felt so exposed all of the sudden.

“We're alone now,” she murmured, brushing her lips against his jaw. “We can do it right here, right now…”

“I don't know if- If it's a good idea…”

She looked shocked.

“Is Aegon Targaryen rejecting an adventure?” she teased him. “Who are you?”

“There's cameras.”

“I turned them off when I went to the office.”

“What if someone walks in?”

“That would only make things spicier.”

“What if it's Nick,” he said, referring to their manager.

“He won't come until 10am.”

He ran out of excuses. The eagerness was visible in her eyes as she bit her lip.

“I'm done waiting, Aegon…” she murmured.

“Ceryse-”

She silenced him with a kiss, and he widened his eyes. He was unable to concentrate on whatever was happening at that moment. His heart was racing, his breathing suddenly ragged, and his hands still shaking as he tried to hold her waist.

Aegon tried to focus and enjoy this. He closed his eyes and followed the kiss, but things got a bit more complicated when she daringly grabbed one of his hands and put them in her rear. Somehow, he felt uncomfortable, so instead of giving her a squeeze, he moved his hands to her hips.

Fuck, he wanted to run and hide.

When her hands attempted to go under his shirt, he squirmed away from her touch, still managing to keep his lips pressed against hers. She giggled, thinking he was just playing hard to get, but as she repeated the action, the outcome was the same.

“Come on, baby,” she murmured against his lips, starting to feel the awkwardness of the situation.

“Just- wait… Ceryse, wait.”

“Don't be shy now…” she said, biting his lip. Aegon hissed.

“I need you to wait- shit,” he said as he squirmed away from her touch once again.

She leaned back, taking a few steps backwards before she looked at him. Her hands immediately went to her chest, to cover the skin that was exposed thanks to her unbuttoned blouse. Her cheeks lit up like fire as she realized how uncomfortable Aegon was.

“Shit…” she murmured, feeling deeply ashamed. “I thought- I thought you liked me. I'm sorry…”

“I do, I swear, I- Ceryse!”

“I'm so sorry, Aegon.”

“No, Ceryse, wait-”

She turned around and left, picking her bag from the counter and leaving the bar in a hurry. Aegon stood there, frozen in his place, his purple eyes filled with confusion to what had just happened, and once the realization hit him like a truck, he brushed his hands against his face and sighed.

“For fuck’s sake.”

Back in the apartment, you were sitting drinking your morning coffee before going to school. You were staring at the news on the TV before you heard the front door slamming close. You jumped in your place, looking confused until Aegon appeared in your sight; your cheeks immediately getting warm as the image of his nudity came back to your mind. However, the expression on his face made you forget about all the embarrassment, and you worried instantly. You hurried to stand up from the kitchen table and go towards him, he groaned as soon as he noticed you were getting closer.

“Aegon, are you alright?” You asked, but there was no answer.

He walked past you, going to the kitchen and ignoring you completely. Of course that your preoccupation did not let you notice such a gesture.

“Hey, is there something you want to talk about?” You insisted, trying to look over his shoulder. “I know what happened might be a little embarrassing for you, but I just want you to know that I barely saw anything!”

Aegon ignored you again.

“Aegon, come on,” you said. “I can help you with anything-”

“Can you?” He interrupted you as he finally turned around and acknowledged your presence. “Because last time you helped me, you cause me another fucking trauma!”

Your eyes widened in surprise.

“What do you mean?”

He sighed, closing his eyes while he debated inside his mind whether to tell you what had just happened or just keep it to himself. But you were annoyingly insistent, and he just wanted to be alone all day.

He always wanted to be alone when things went wrong.

“You fucked me up even more!” he exclaimed, making you lean back and your lower lip trembled, feeling awful. “I couldn't fuck Ceryse because your stupid laugh was replaying in my mind over and over again,” he confessed. “Like a fucking reminder that my body sucks!”

“Aegon, I didn't-”

“You fucking laughed at me!”

“I didn't laugh at you, Aegon!” you raised your voice, matching his tone. “I was nervous, it was an awkward situation. I saw you naked! Of course I would get nervous!”

Aegon went silent, pressing his lips in a thin line as his eyebrows furrowed. You took a step closer, but he took a step back. You sighed defeated, knowing that all the progress you have made to become his friend had easily vanished in a matter of seconds.

“Look,” you said. “I'm sorry, Aegon. I never meant to make you feel bad.”

He scoffed.

“Yeah, as if a simple apology would fix it,” he said, pettily.

You both stayed in silence for a few seconds, your lips pressed in a thin line as you tried to come up with a solution to your problem. It was certain that you did not have too many options, and Aegon was not giving signs of having an idea to fix it either. That is why you panicked, and your hands went to the hem of your shirt and started to lift it up.

“What the fuck are you doing?!” he asked, scandalized.

“I'm getting naked so we can call it even,” you explained, as if it was the most obvious thing ever.

“I don't want to see you naked! What is wrong with you?”

“Well, then what do you want me to do? I can't get inside your brain and take my laugh out of it.”

“I certainly don't want to see you naked!” he said.

“Alright, I'm sorry, okay?!” you quickly said, looking at his eyes. “I'm sorry that I laughed, and I'm sorry it made you feel bad.”

“That doesn't-”

“Shut up,” you interrupted him. “You are not ugly, you're hot. There, I said it! You have a handsome face and a hot body, and even though you're so grumpy sometimes, your face compensates for it. You know why? Because you are handsome, you idiot.”

“I-”

“I wish I could go with that girl and beat her fucking ass for what she did to you. I wish!” His eyes widened, he was slightly flustered. “She didn't know what she had. You're a good catch, Aegon, and if you don't start to believe it for yourself then no one will.”

You left the room in an overly dramatic walk, leaving Aegon behind with his eyes wide open and his cheeks red. His breathing, somehow, was fast and unsteady. His blood was running quickly down his body as he cleared his throat and turned around to worry about his breakfast. Yet, your words had left a feeling in his gut which felt quite nice.

Aemond suddenly walked out of his room and stopped when he saw Aegon standing in the middle of the open kitchen, staring at the unbaked bacon in the pan. He was weirded out by his brother's strange attitude.

“What's wrong with you?” Aemond asked.

Aegon woke up from his trance and shook his head.

“Nothing.”

He didn't sound too convincing.

“We made a pact, Aegon,” he reminded him, going towards the coffee machine and pouring some of it on a cup. “You are not allowed to sleep with her.” he whispered those last words just to make sure you wouldn't hear it.

“What are you talking about?” he scoffed.

“Just a reminder,” Aemond shrugged, sipping his coffee while Aegon finally turned on the stove.

“Shut up.”

It was 6pm when you arrived back in the apartment after a long day at school. You were dragging your feet through the hall and towards your room, noticing that neither Aemond or Jace had arrived yet, and Aegon was probably in his room. It had been a long day, and the only thing that you craved was a nice and warm shower before going to bed. It was a need.

After your discussion with Aegon in the morning and the tiny bug in your chest that was making you feel guilty all day, you needed some time to relax, to stand beneath the warm water and let it wash away all the stress of your body. So that's what you did.

You took off your clothes the moment you stepped into the bathroom, then quickly got in the shower, feeling the warmth wrapping your body. Your shoulders immediately relaxed and you saw all your troubles vanished in that instant, you let yourself sigh.

Your mind went blank and all you could feel was the warmth and comfort the water produced. It was lovely, it made you forget about all the issues and troubles.

When you finished, you stood there for a bit longer, enjoying the last moments of peace before you would cross your path with Aegon's.

What you did not expect was that, at the very moment that you opened the shower curtain, Aegon opened the door.

And he looked at you.

Naked.

You screamed as your hands went to cover yourself as much as you could. Aegon's mouth dropped as he stared longer than he should have, his pale cheeks turning red as he swallowed hard.

“Aegon!” you yelled his name.

Only then he seemed to react, because he immediately muttered a small ‘sorry’ and then he closed the door. You immediately took the towel from the hanger and you covered yourself, breathing fast. You almost slipped in your way out of the shower, silly movements as you were still trying to take in what had happened.

That goddamn door lock.

Then, in the middle of the silence, you heard him speak.

“Well, I guess we’re even now, aren't we?” he joked on the other side of the door.

“Shut up!” you said, between nervous laughs.

He laughed it off too, and that sound made you smile wider as your cheeks got warm.

It was true though; now you can finally call it even.

BOLD MEANS I COULDN’T TAG YOU

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[fanaticsnail]

today being children's day we will have the pleasure of something thematic? 👀My dog really wanna know (but 0 pressure of course, just curious)

"0 Pressure", you say - but all I hear is "Dad Shanks and Baby Uta fic ASAP please."

I had no idea it was Children's Day today, and I had to pump this out because it lives in my head rent-free.

What do I do?

Masterlist Here

Word Count: 1,100+

Synopsis: Uta is going through a leap week and Shanks is an overwhelmed teenager. He does his best to soothe her, but becomes overwhelmed by the wailing cry of his daughter. He calls the one person he knows has hands on experience with a situation exactly like the one he's found himself in.

Themes: Not an 'x reader' fic. Baby Uta, teenage parent Shanks, supportive crew, uncle Rayleigh, parenting things, parenting advice, Shanks is a dad, fluff.

Notes: I hope you enjoy a little bit of a cathartic fic based on parenting experience. I cried writing the end. Happy tears.

Tag List: @mfreedomstuff @daydreamer-in-training @gingernut1314 @i-am-vita @indydonuts @feral-artistry @since-im-already-here @sordidmusings @writingmysanity @jintaka-hane

Down the hall in the dimly-lit corridor, the Red-Headed captain Shanks had his eyes hanging half-lidded and surrounded by a puffy purple hue. He attempts to soothe the inconsolable infant in his arms with a gentle rocking motion, and marching from one side of his quarters to the other. 

Why did he think he could do something like this? Why did he think it would be so easy to care for a baby he found at sea with his crew? He knew better than to go back to Beckman for help: his first mate had finally asked for a week off from “Uta-Duty” after doing nights while Shanks charted the courses he laid for the next destination.

The wails of her shrill cry carry on through the rocking and swaying, and tears begin to pool in the teenager’s eyes. Shanks feels so overwhelmed and helpless, wanting nothing more than to aid Uta through her ailment so he can finally get some sleep. She arches her back and straightens out her limbs with her face red and brows furrowed. 

“Shh, sweetheart,” he hushes in a soft tone, attempting to cradle her back into his arms and rock her, “Daddy’s here. Daddy’s got you.” Uta’s cries turn to whimpers, her vibrant purple eyes widened and looked up into his brown orbs. Both the teenage Shanks and the infant Uta held mirrored expressions. 

Wide globes of vulnerability stared into each other with a glossy sheen threatening to spill over their lash lines further. Uta’s reddened face scrunched up once more, her whimpers becoming a wailing cry with her eyes clamping tightly shut. Shanks sighed, his own tears finally spilling over his waterline, staining his cheeks with a trail of emotion, and trickling down to his chin. 

“I-I-...” Shanks began slowly sitting down at his desk with Uta continuing to cry in his arms, “...I don’t know what to do, sweetheart. What do I do? P-Please, Uta. What do I do?” 

He looks at his desk, noticing his Den-Den snail glaring at him with equally sunken eyes over his features. Shanks sighed, reaching for the snail and beginning to chart in the digits for the one person he thought would be able to help him. He lifts the receiver to his ear and sniffs back another sob into the mouthpiece. 

The Den-Den on the other end of the call rattles, a male voice picking up and giving a lazy “Kid, that you?” 

“...Uncle Rayleigh?” Shanks stuttered into the mouthpiece, the cries of Uta floating eagerly into the transceiver with his cracking voice. Rayleigh sighed into the mouthpiece, a soft smile growing on his lips. 

“That my favorite grandbaby cryin’ there, son?” Rayleigh’s easy drawl called through the receiver, “How many weeks old is she now, Shanks? About seven months or so?” 

“Y-Yes,” Shanks’ voice whimpered into the mouthpiece. Rayleigh hummed in contemplation, and Shanks could almost picture the soft bob in his head. 

“One o’ them wonder weeks, I think,” his rumbled tone relayed back to him, “All I can tell you is it’ll pass. You’re in the thick of it based on her cry, but it won’t be forever. Okay, kid?” 

Rayleigh waited on the other end of the call, his duvet slipping off his chest and falling to his lap as he spared a glance at the clock at his side. No sounds other than the cry from Uta reverberated in the mouthpiece. 

“You still with me, son?” Rayleigh asked the young captain, who only granted him a choked whimper in response. 

“How’d you do it, Uncle Rayleigh?” Shanks’ cracking voice and quivering lip physically depicting his distress with Uta’s cries only growing louder. “You were my age when you found me. How did you do it? Because I-I-... I can’t-... It’s-... Sh-She-... She doesn’t stop.” 

After a deep sigh from Rayleigh, he pinched his brows and turned once more to the snail.

“Lean on your crew for a few days,” he hummed thoughtfully, all truth and full of well-practiced patience. “Get your chef to prepare meals for you in advance. You sleep when she sleeps, you wake when she wakes, and you lean on your crew, boy. Trust them to guide you, give Uta to Beckman for a bit while you get a more lengthy rest, and do your best.” 

Shanks allowed his tears to flood his face, heavily sobbing as he listened to the first-mate of captain Roger. 

Both Roger and Rayleigh raised him aboard the Oro Jackson from toddlerdom. Shanks was found by Roger exactly the same as Uta was found by him. If there was anyone with sound advice and sure experience, it was this glasses-wearing, blonde haired, ex-first mate to the King of the Pirates. His Uncle Rayleigh. 

“Thank you, Uncle Rayleigh,” Shanks whimpered into the mouthpiece, feeling Uta beginning to settle in his arms and bury her face into his chest, “She-... She’s calming down a bit now. I think I’m gonna try and get some sleep.” 

“You do that, son. And know this…” Rayleigh spoke into the Den-Den quietly, prompting Shanks to lean his ear into the shell while cradling Uta into his arms. 

“...You’re doing great.”

Shanks sniffed back more emotion from escaping him as he hung up the Den-Den shell and slowly walked Uta to her crib at his bedside. Slowly placing her onto her back, Shanks looks down at her peaceful face and lays down at the very edge of his bed. Slotting his hand over her crib, he gently places his index finger within her balled fist. 

“You are so precious to me, my daughter,” he sniffed, his lip quivering the longer he stared at her smaller face, “We’ll get through this together. I promise, sweetheart.” He slowly retracted his arm and placed his hand beneath his face while lying on his knuckles. 

“I love you, Uta. My little song,” he whispered, his body finally giving in and prompting his heavy eyes to finally shut, “My precious daughter.”

The night carried on, the gentle swell of the waves shepherded both Shanks and Uta into a heavy slumber. The teenage captain never once regretted the decision to claim the child as his own, his decision to raise her aboard the Red-Force being one of the better decisions he had made. 

Before he woke, Rayleigh had already called Beckman’s Den-Den and filled him in on the interrupted night, and gave him several orders to follow to best support the young Captain. Beckman took Rayleigh’s word as law, barking orders to the crew to give Shanks all the time and space he needed to usher Uta through this stage of childhood development. 

Shanks remained ever grateful that he chose this assortment of sailors to travel with, his crew being the crutch he could lean on in his time of need. He loved each member of his crew so much, especially the small bundle laying soundly asleep in her crib beside him.

[random-thot-generator]

Love Thy Frenemy + Ch. 7

(Frenemies/Tenderness AU)

SEVEN: Can't Let Go

SIMON GHOST RILEY x FRENEMY FEM READER

Summary: A week has passed since the argument in the alley, and Reader's hurt has been replaced with a seething anger that leads her to make a spur-of-the-moment decision out of spite. However, her poor choices lead to a potentially dangerous situation.

(PLEASE MIND THE TAGS. This chapter could be triggering for some readers.)

Warnings/Tags: Profanity, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Bad Coping Mechanisms, Allusions to sex, Threat of dub/non-con sexual situation, Brief Violence - Reader's a scrapper, Threat of violence though not acted upon... yet, No use of Y/N

(Notes: Ngl, this was a bitch to write. I had no less than three other alternative versions of this chapter, before choosing this one, but thankfully had some help along the way. Massive props to @glitterypirateduck for the much-needed advice and input. I ended up leaving the badger out, babe, but I hope you like the chapter, regardless. 😉👍)

[Image via TENOR]

Word Count: 5020

Chapter 7

-

...I ain't tryna find fate, it's too late to save face I can't get away, maybe there's no mistakes

You break me, then I break my rules Last time was the last time too It's fucked up, I know, but I'm still

Outside of the party, smokin' in the car with you Seven Nation Army, fightin' at the bar with you Tell you that I'm sorry, tell me what I gotta do 'Cause I can't let go...

—Post Malone, 'Chemical'

-

The walk to work is nice.

Blue skies and tattered clouds arch overhead, the remnants of puddles from an early morning shower reflecting the first sun you've seen in days. The world smells fresh and green and new, the signs of spring brightening your mood. It makes you feel light, the first time in a week you've felt like lifting your head to look around.

The first time since your fight with Riley.

You push the thought away. You're not going there today. Not again. You worked through the worst of the hurt and disappointment, and now you've settled into a comfortable, quiet fury that you keep wrapped around you like a warm blanket when the chill of loneliness creeps into your bed at night. You don't miss him, you don't want him, and you sure as hell don't need him. He's just one more bitter lesson you've had to learn the hard way. You won't make the same mistake, again.

Well... not again, anyway.

A car beeps its horn behind you, and you glance back to see Jerry Finch, the lorry driver who delivers the kegs to the pub, waving at you from a black sports car. You give a half-hearted smile and wave back, your steps slowing when he steers his car to the curb.

His window rolls down, rap music thumping before he turns it down. Leaning on his arm in the open window, Jerry tips his chin down to look over his aviator sunglasses at you, a smooth half-smile on his lips. "How ya doin', Dee? Headin' to work?"

You nod, stepping closer to his car, trying to ignore the way he looks you up and down before meeting your gaze. He gives you an appreciative smile and ticks his eyebrows up, ever the flirt. You sniff in amusement and squint against the sun to see him better. "Morning, Jer." You nod at his car. "No lorry today. This your day off?"

He gives you a charming, almost boyish smile and nods. "Yeah. Had some business here in the village, though." He glances down towards the pub, then slants his gaze back to you, thumbing at his bottom lip. "I can give ya a lift, if ya like. Goin' that way, anyhow."

You hesitate but then nod in acceptance. It's just an acquaintance from work offering you a ride, nothing wrong with that. He smiles and motions for you to get in, once more letting his eyes wander over your figure while you settle yourself into the passenger seat and put on your seatbelt.

"Thank you," you murmur, glancing up at him, then away. Jerry's never been one to hide his interest, taking every opportunity to flirt with you when given half a chance. Of course, it makes you feel good to have a handsome man flirt with you, but it also makes you a little leery, too. You try to be nice, but you don't want to encourage him, something that Fiona fusses about every chance she gets.

"Bloody hell, Dee, give the bloke a chance. He's got a good job, he's good lookin', fit as fuck, an' he's gaggin' t'get with ya. What can it hurt?"

Rationally, you know Fi is right, but you can't help yourself. There's just something about him. You can't put your finger on it but being near him just feels... off. You clear your throat and look out the window, your eyes catching on a dark gray Gladiator parked in front of the Tea Room.

Riley.

You can see him standing inside through the tall Georgian windows, chatting with Margie, the owner. She's handing him a bag and a to-go cup that you know will be filled with English breakfast tea brewed strong, with a splash of milk and two sugars, the way he likes. Your heart squeezes in your chest as you watch him exit the building and get in his truck.

Riley's been avoiding the pub when you're on shift. Fiona says he's been showing up in the evening, sitting in his usual spot while nursing his Dewar's. She also doesn't fail to mention Tessa Harker has been chatting him up quite a bit lately, too. It hurts to hear it, but you only give a tight smile and mutter, "Good for him," much to your friend's irritation.

Fiona and Ollie have both noticed the way you and Riley have been avoiding each other, but apparently Riley has kept mum about the argument, as have you. You had wondered if he would spread word about your other job at the Grind out of spite, but no one has mentioned it so far, and for that you're relieved, but you're still wary of what he might do with the information.

"So, what time ya gettin' off work?"

The question draws your attention back to the big man sitting beside you. Did he notice you staring, you wonder. "Um, I get off work at five."

"Then what?" he persists, and you know where this is going.

You shrug, keeping your eyes focused straight ahead. "Then back home, I suppose."

"Come out with me, instead," he suggests, shooting another one of his charming smiles your way. "There's a nice Italian bistro in Blackheath. I deliver to 'em. Nice place, good food."

"Oh, um, well..."

He chuckles and reaches over to pat your knee. "No rush, sweetheart. Got all day t'think it over, yeah?"

Again, the feeling that something is off with him comes to the fore of your brain, but you smile, regardless. "Yeah, sure. I'll... think about it," you reply, knowing your mind is already made up. You just have to think of a nice way to let him down. Again.

Jerry gives your knee another pat, which turns into a sly caress that has you flinching away. He huffs a laugh at your reaction, giving you a playful 'just-kidding' grin, before he lifts his hand and places it back on the wheel. He has big, beefy hands, thick fingers with blunt tips, a working man's hands. You usually find that attractive, have often admired Riley's large hands and long, supple fingers, but for some reason, the sight of Jerry's ham fists curled around the steering wheel makes you feel uncomfortable.

The car comes to a stop in front of the pub, and you're quick to unbuckle your seatbelt and open the door. "Thanks for the ride, Jer," you say, one foot already resting on the pavement.

"Think nothin' of it, love. Glad t'give you a ride anytime," he murmurs, suggestion heavy in his tone. He flashes another smile at you, winking again. He does that a lot, and you find it annoying. "I'll stop by later, see if ya want to go out for dinner, yeah?"

"Y-Yeah, sure. Okay."

You get out of his car and sketch a little wave as he pulls away, then turn to head inside the pub, only to come up short. Riley's standing right in front of the entrance, arms crossed over his chest, dark eyes fixed on Jerry's car, which is now rounding the green.

"Friend o' yers?"

It's the first words he's said to you since last Sunday in the alley, and the way he says it instantly gets your hackles up. You square off with him, casting a disparaging look over him. The proper thing would have been to offer you an apology, but you know better than to expect anything like that from him. Instead, he leads with a question that sounds both accusatory and insulting, all at the same time.

Typical.

"Shouldn't you already know? That's what you're good at, isn't it? Keeping tabs on me?" you snap, glaring at him.

You make a point to bump his shoulder as you pass by him and enter the pub. He's on your heels in an instant, following you through the door, obviously irritated by your response. You ignore him as you round the bar, pulling the strap of your bag over your head before placing it on top of the bar to take out your phone and a paperback.

"Wot? Ya got nothin' else t'say, doll? Tha's not like ya."

Your eyes snap up to glare at him. "Thought we said all that needed to be said last Sunday," you hissed at him, trying to keep your voice down, knowing Ollie would be back in his office.

Simon plants both hands on the bar and leans in, his dark eyes scathing as they pin you to the spot. "I wasn't finished talkin'. It was you that fuckin' ran off," he growls in return, but manages to keep his voice to a low rumble.

Your brows shoot up in mock surprise. "Oh! How terribly rude of me. I suppose I should have stood there until you were finished insulting me." Your eyes narrowed as you sneered at him. "Fuck you for that, by the way."

He's wearing his black surgical mask today, so his angry scowl is more evident than usual. He shoves off the bar in a fit of temper, hand coming up to jab a finger at you. "Like I told ya last Sunday, me an' you need t'talk, an' this time yer goin' t'bloody listen to wha—"

Your snort cuts him off. "We have nothing left to discuss. You made your opinion of me quite clear. But hey! At least I know where I stand with you now. Don't worry, though. I'll keep my distance. Wouldn't want to embarrass you by being seen associating with a slag, right?"

"Dammit t'hell, Dee! I never fuckin' called ya that. I never thought that. Would ya just bloody lis—"

"Riley, lad!"

You both turn to see Ollie heading your way, a pleased smile on his face. Shooting Riley one last venomous glare, you turn your back on him and make for the swinging door leading into the kitchen, his frustrated growl giving you a sense of grim satisfaction as you slip through the door. Fuck him. You hope he stays pissed off for the rest of the day.

You can hear the two men talking as you go back to hang up your jacket, eyes wandering over the unused kitchen as you pass through. What you wouldn't give for a kitchen this size, and here this one sits, unused and abandoned. You had mentioned a time or two that adding a small menu would bring in more business, but since the last cook quit, Ollie hasn't been too keen to fire up the kitchen again. It's a pity, really.

"Dee, love."

You glance over your shoulder to see Ollie standing at the service window. "What'cha need, Ol?"

Mind makin' me an' Riley a cuppa an' bringin' 'em to the office?"

You frown, wondering what happened to the tea you had seen Riley with before. You shrug it off and nod. "Sure thing, Ol. Be right out with 'em."

"Thanks, love," he says, rapping his knuckles before disappearing from sight.

You rinse out the electric kettle and fill it with water, then plug it in and switch it on before grabbing three mugs and the tea tin. You consider making Riley's tea wrong, just for spite, but that would be petty, even for you, or as Riley would call it, bratty. You sniff. He's a fuckin' brat. A bratty arsehole.

You scoop instant coffee into your own mug then add the tea bags to the other two cups, before going to the fridge to take out the milk. It's become routine for you to make both men's tea, your hands going through the motions while your thoughts wander back to Jerry and his dinner invitation.

Your first instinct is to turn him down, as you have all his other invitations, but the memory of how pissed Riley looked as he watched the other man drive away gives you pause. He always did eye Jerry with open suspicion, his instant dislike of the other man never something he tried to hide. He's never said why he doesn't like Jerry, but it didn't change the fact that it would probably piss Riley off to learn you were going out to dinner with him.

Maybe you are petty after all, because now your mind has changed. You are going on a dinner date this evening after work.

Setting your mug of coffee in the window to retrieve later, you take the other two mugs with you out of the kitchen. Rounding the bar, you head towards the narrow hallway that leads to the bathrooms and Ollie's office, walking slower to not spill any of their tea. You can hear their voices through the door as you stop to announce your presence. It's Riley who opens the door for you, not bothering to move out of your way as you slide past him with an irritated expression.

"Move, ya big lump," you grumble lowly, which gets a soft sniff of amusement from him. Arsehole.

"Ah, thanks, love," Ollie says, reaching out to take his mug. You set Riley's on the edge of his desk near the old club chair where he always sits. "Mind closin' the door on yer way out?" Ollie asks.

You give a nod, turning around to see that Riley is still standing in your way. You go to step around him, and he steps in your way again. You blow out an aggravated breath and raise your eyes to his, the urge to shove him again making your hands twitch. When he quirks a brow up at you, you grit your teeth and glare at him. Then an idea sparks in your brain. You look back over your shoulder at your boss.

"Say, Ol. Ya mind if I cut out a little early this evening? I've got a dinner date with Jerry the lorry driver."

Ollie nearly chokes on his tea before he manages to get his cup set down on his desk. His sharp eyes dart between you and Riley, an odd expression on his face as he tries to make sense of what's going on. He finally clears his throat and gives a curt nod. "Yeah. Sure, love. No problem."

You give him a sweet smile that turns spiteful when you turn your head back to the man in front of you. "Thanks, Ol," you reply, meeting Riley's furious glare. "Excuse me. Need to get back to work."

You can see his hands balling into fists, and it sends a thrill of sadistic glee through you. You'd rather die than look away from him right now, a smirk appearing when he has to hold his tongue and step aside for you. By the time you reach the hallway and close the door behind you, you're damn near giddy. The smirk on your face grows to a full-on wicked grin by the time you reach the bar again.

Satisfied with the good, hard poke you've just given the proverbial bear, you begin your prep work, humming a catchy pop song under your breath.

-

You manage to avoid any more close interactions with Riley, though he hangs around the bar your entire shift, giving you a baleful glare every time you draw near. You make it a point to ignore him, chatting with the other customers, talking and laughing like you weren't bothered at all by his brooding presence. You see him visibly stiffen when Jerry comes swaggering in, his signature charming smile already in place.

Before he can speak, you step to the bar and offer him a sweet smile. "Hi, Jer. Ollie said I can leave early, so we can go whenever you like."

Jerry can't hide the surprise on his face, but he swiftly recovers as he leans an elbow on the bar to bring his eyes level with yours. "Good. Been thinkin' 'bout it all day," he murmurs, his eyes drifting down to your lips.

You stiffen, discomfited by the look in his eye, but try to hide it by ducking to grab your bag from beneath the bar. When you raise up again, a pleasant smile is plastered on your face. "I just need to grab my jacket and tell Ollie I'm leaving, then we can go."

"'Course, sweetheart," Jer replies, watching you as you round the bar and head for the hallway. He catches Riley staring at him and lifts his brows, giving him a smug little smirk, which you honestly think is stupid of him. Despite Jerry's size, you have no doubt Riley would mop the fucking floor with him. You roll your eyes. Men and their stupid bloody posturing.

The sooner you get this over with, the better. This game is quickly losing its appeal.

-

Jerry offers to take you home to change if you want, but you decline, honestly not comfortable with the idea of bringing him up to your flat. He seems a little perturbed when you turn down his offer but then shrugs and drives to Blackheath, instead.

As he said, the little bistro is nice, the food delicious. The conversation is lackluster, though, but you weren't really expecting much. Beyond talking about himself, Jerry doesn't seem to hold much interest in other topics. Big surprise.

Once you're back in the car, he drapes his arm over your seat and leans in, a sexy smirk on his face. "So, where to next, sweetheart? Your place or mine?"

Your brows shoot up in mild surprise. "I thought this was just dinner," you reply, crossing your arms over your chest. "Moving a little fast, don't you think?"

He tips his chin down, giving you a knowing look. "C'mon, Dee. We're both adults here. I've seen how you an' that other barmaid check me out. Not that I'm complainin'." He gives you one of his smarmy winks, and you fight the urge to wrinkle your nose in disdain.

You sniff and give your head a small shake. The audacity of this bloke. Did he honestly think you were just going to drop your knickers because he bought you dinner? "Yeah, I think I'd rather go home by myself. I have work in the morning."

Jerry draws back, blinking. "Are you serious?" When you roll your eyes, he scoffs and tilts his nose up, as if he can't believe you are turning him down. "Whatever. Your loss, sweetheart," he mutters with a slight sneer and starts the car.

The drive back to Banfield is tense and awkward, but you honestly prefer the silence. When Jer finally speaks up, you startle out of your thoughts. "Mind if I take a shortcut?" he asks, his tone off-hand.

You shrug. "Fine with me." If it gets you home quicker, you're all for it.

Yet when he veers off the main road onto a country lane, you frown. You aren't familiar with this particular backroad, but from the direction you're going it doesn't look like you're heading towards home.

"Are you sure this goes to Banfield?"

Jer slants a condescending look at you, a shitty little smirk pulling up a corner of his mouth. "I drive for a livin', sweetheart. Ya really think I'm goin' t'get lost on the way to bloody Banfield?"

Your eyes roll up, but you hold your tongue, yet after another five minutes with nothing even closely resembling civilization in sight, you can't keep quiet. "We should be in Banfield by now. It's just a ten-minute drive from Blackheath. Are you sure you took the right road?" You glance around at the dark, unfamiliar landscape. "I don't even know where the hell we are right now."

"I took the scenic route," Jer drawls, waving a hand. He then drops it on your knee and gives it a squeeze. "Chill out, sweetheart. We'll get there. Eventually."

Apprehension creeps up your spine like the drag of an icy finger. You don't like this. This man, who you really know nothing about, you now realize, is driving you out to the middle of nowhere. "Maybe you should turn around."

Jerry glances over at you again, and this time the look in his eye makes the small hairs on the nape of your neck stand on end. "Maybe you should try to relax." His hand slides up your leg to grip your thigh. "I'd be happy t'pull over an' help ya with that, sweetheart."

And there it is. The reason for getting you out here alone. You aren't even really surprised, always knowing in the back of your mind that there was something off with him, though you chose to ignore it this time, just to spite Riley.

Hindsight really is a bitch sometimes.

"Jer, I told you I wanted to go home," you murmur, trying to keep your voice low and even.

He huffs, a smug expression on his face. "C'mon, Dee. Stop playin' hard t'get. It's jus' me an' you now. Your boyfriend doesn't have t'know. I can keep my mouth shut. It'll be our little secret, yeah?"

"My boyfriend?" you blurt out, confused.

He rolls his eyes. "Oh, right. Sorry. Your friend," he sneers and then scoffs. "Don't act like ya don't know who I'm talkin' 'bout. That scarred up freak with the mask who's always up yer arse."

"What the fuck did you just say?" you choke out, fury strangling your voice. You're ready to claw out his eyes for what he said about Riley.

Jerry waves a dismissive hand at you. "Enough with the games, Dee. I know ya only went out with me t'make him jealous, an' I'm fine with that, really, but don't ya think I deserve some sort of... ya know, compensation for playin' along?"

Rage consumes you, hot and prickling beneath your skin. "Take me home. Now!"

The cold, flat look in his eye chills you to the bone. "Not 'til I get what ya owe me, sweetheart. Don't look so offended. I doubt this is the first time you've paid up for somethin' by lyin' on your back."

The hard slap you deliver to his smug face has him swerving across the narrow road before he slams on the brakes, sluing the car around in the loose gravel. You only manage to free your seatbelt before he grabs you.

"Are ya fuckin' crazy, ya bitch?" he yells in your face, shaking you hard as he shoves you back against your door. "Ya could'a killed us!"

You jab your thumb in his eye for his trouble. He bellows in pain, releasing you to clutch at his face, freeing you to reach behind your back to paw at the latch. The door flies open under your weight and dumps you out backwards onto the gravel. When his hand seizes your ankle in a crushing grip, you frantically kick out with your other foot. Though you're unable to see from your position on the ground, you revel in a brief moment of satisfaction when you feel it make solid contact with his head, and he yells in pain again. Yanking your legs free of the car, you scramble to your feet, snatching your bag from the ground as you sprint for the woods.

Too terrified to look back, you run headlong into the tree line. You stumble through the undergrowth, feeling the spindly branches and thorns tear at your clothes and snag in your hair as it rakes bloody scratches into your exposed skin. You trip over tree roots and stub your toes on stones hidden beneath the moldering ground cover of dead leaves. All the while, Jerry is bellowing like an enraged bull as he thrashes through the foliage somewhere behind you, shouting threats and curses at you the whole time.

When you inevitably fall flat on your face, you skid across the forest floor to hitch up at the base of a huge oak. You have just enough time to crawl behind its massive trunk before Jerry comes crashing through. When you hear him approach, you clap your hand over your nose and mouth to muffle the sound of your gasping breaths, terrified he will hear you. Your eyes go wide when you see him pass by your hiding spot close enough that you could reach out and touch him, if you wanted. Scared beyond reason, you press your back against the rough bark of the oak and pray he doesn't see you when he pans the flashlight on his cell phone around.

A strangled noise issues from his throat before he growls out a frustrated, "Fuuuck!" You can see him pacing back and forth as he rakes his hands through his hair. If you didn't know any better, you would think he was panicking. "Crazy fuckin' bitch," you hear him seethe under his heaving breath, growling again. "Fine, ya stupid cunt!" he shouts at the dark woods, throwing his arms up in the air. "Find yer own way home, then!" He then turns around and stomps back the way he came, still uttering curses.

You don't dare move, not even when the sound of his heavy footfalls fades away. You don't dare move, not even when the only thing you can hear is the wind rattling the tree branches overhead. You don't dare move, not until you at last hear the distant sound of a car motor rev to life, the sound gradually diminishing until you can't hear it any longer. It is only then that you are brave enough to slowly stand up on your shaking legs, only to lean once more on the trunk for support as a sob finally tears free from your chest.

You remain that way for several minutes, trying desperately to regain your composure, even as your brain keeps circling around the notion that Jerry's departure is some sort of ruse to lure you back out into the open. It's the idea of spending a cold night alone in the woods that finally has you lifting your head to take in your surroundings and evaluate your situation.

At first glance, it seems pretty dire. You have no idea where you are, you're too scared to venture back onto road for fear of Jerry lying in wait somewhere, and it's pitch dark out tonight, not even the wan light of the moon visible in the overcast sky to help guide you through the woods.

Your only real option is to call for help.

Reaching into your bag, you take out your phone, cursing under your breath when you drop it due to your trembling hands. The glow of the screen is a small comfort as you unlock your phone and open your contacts list. You stare at the emergency number, finger hovering.

If you call the police, there will have to be a report filed, and then there will be an inquiry to investigate your claims. You already know it will be your word against Jerry's. His solicitors will no doubt drag your name through the mud to discredit you, and he will probably still get off with nothing more than a light slap on the wrist, if he even gets that, because he actually didn't do anything to you, at least not physically. Hell, you had done more damage to him than he had to you. He could claim you attacked him, and he wouldn't even be lying.

You look back down at your phone, one name standing out like a beacon in the dark. When you see that name, you think of home, of safety, the two things you want most right now. You select it and hit the call button, holding the phone up to your ear and praying there will be an answer. Your breath catches in your throat when you hear the line connect.

"Whad'ya want, Dee?" a gravelly, annoyed voice growls into your ear, and a sob escapes your throat, you are so relieved to hear him.

"Ruh... Riley? P-Please, Ri... please. I n-need you..."

-

No one in the White Dog knew what to think when the usually quiet giant that sat at the end of the bar suddenly erupted out of his seat, the bar chair toppling over. "Doll! What's wrong? Where are ya?" he barks into his phone.

He apparently doesn't like what he hears.

"He fuckin' did what?! " he growls, a look of pure murderous rage igniting in his dark eyes. As he listens to you, however, his rage is tempered by his troubled concern. "Are ya hurt, love? I swear t'God if he―" His hand clenches into a trembling fist, even though his voice is now a low rumble. "Please don't cry, love. I know, I know, but I'll find ya. Ya know I will. I'm on my way right now. Just... keep yer phone on for me, yeah?"

He's already making for the entrance as he says this, the murderous look returning as he mutters, "I'll kill that bastard," before he barges through the door. He hits it with such force, it slams into the outside wall hard enough to shatter the frosted safety glass. He doesn't even acknowledge it as he runs to his truck and tears off down the street with a bark of tires the next instant, leaving a silent pub full of stunned onlookers in his wake.

-

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Taglist: @stillinracooncity @cumikering @cutiecusp @deadbranch @ghostlythots @thetiredtoad0-0 @glitterypirateduck @gothgirl6-6-6 @sofasoap @cathnoneofyourbusiness @shuttlelauncher81 @luminousbeings-crudematter @crunchlite @delilah-grimes @bobochacha

[halfmylife]

Could you do sihtric x reader with prompts 70 and 71

Pairing Sihtric x Reader

Prompts “I’d stop that before someone thinks you actually like me.”

“You’re a nightmare, you know that?”

Tags Fluff, slight mentions of violence.

A/N I loved writing this and I hope you enjoy! Thank you for the request!

The training had been gruelling. Sihtric had not held back in the daily spars that he took you through and barely gave your body a break. Every inch of you ached and you could barely keep your sword up. You half regretted even asking him.

Maybe one of the others would’ve been kinder. Still the others weren’t as kind on your eyes as Sihtric was even when he was shouting out orders and giving you constant criticism.

“Don’t let your guard down!” Sihtric called as you backed away, dropping your sword arm slightly, the blade grazing through the mud underfoot. His eyes were trained on you, watching your body like a predator. Something about his stare made your squirm but you hardly minded.

“It’s not like you’ve told me that before.” You grumbled to yourself sarcastically. You rolled your shoulders hoping it might ease the aching in your back. It didn’t.

“Maybe try listening to my advice then.” You should’ve known he would hear you.

“It’s hard to listen to when you’re constantly barking it out.” You shouted back, forcing yourself into a defensive position as he started to circle you. You really were like his prey. “Softer words might be nicer every now and then.”

“Do you think your enemy will use soft words to lighten the blow?” He cocked his head as he effortlessly twirled his blade. You would slap him around the head for being so cocky if you could get a hit in.

“That’s not the point.” You retorted, circling with him.

“Then what is your point?” He seemed far more relaxed than you. His shoulders sagged and his sword was like air in his grasp, he barely struggled with the weight. It was all so natural for him and he knew it.

“My point is, I can’t learn if you’re constantly snapping the same instructions at me.” As you both continued to move, you could feel the weight in your arm becoming too much, the sword was straining against you. You had half the mind to let it drop.

“I wouldn’t have to snap the same thing over again if you actually listened.” He shrugged, clearly this whole ordeal didn’t bother him like it did you.

“I am listening!” You snapped. The training had been tough and you knew you were better than before, at least now you could actually hold a sword and strike. Whether those strikes ever actually landed or not was a different matter. Regardless it grew harder by the day and Sihtric’s constant badgering didn’t help.

“You’re a nightmare, you know that?” He laughed to himself as stopped moving. You took that as a queue to strike. It just so happened that it was a terrible idea.

Just as you lunged forward with your blade, Sihtric managed to step aside, not even lifting his own. He moved with ease as he spun to get behind you, tapping the top of your thigh with the flat of his sword. He let out a low chuckle as you spun around, fury in your eyes.

You moved forward again, arching your sword down. Sihtric was able to side step each one. It was as though you were playing two very different games. The anger rose through you and you let it blindly guide you as you slashed forward.

When Sihtric actually decided to use his blade, you realised this fight would be over soon. He parried every strike easily and barely broke a sweat as he swiped you away every time without fail. You were growing tired and wanted nothing more than for this to end.

With one final push of strength you leapt forward towards him. Sihtric blocked the blow, your swords clashing as you stood close to one another, only the steel separating the pair of you. He gave a slight push against the metal, sending you back. Your footing gave way and you soon found yourself down on the mud, the air pushed out of your lungs.

You hit the floor the same time as your blade and you grunted from the impact. Sihtric’s usually calm demeanour dropped for a second as he discarded his own blade, a wave of concern washing over his features.

“You alright?” He asked kneeling down beside you. As you tried to push yourself up, his hand was on your back in an instant, keeping you steady.

“Never better.” You grunted. When you tried to stand, Sihtric’s hand didn’t leave your back guiding you up as his other free hand took your own. You were able to use his weight to get back onto your feet with ease, brushing yourself off when you were finally steady.

“You sure? You took that pretty hard.” Still his hands were on you, keeping you in place as his eyes wracked over your body. The concern was sweet enough but the way he held you was something else.

“I’d stop that before someone thinks you actually like me.” You smirked, watching him carefully as he adjusted his hold on your back. His hand trailed further down, turning you towards him.

“Maybe I do.” There was a glint in his eye as he held you close, closer than normal. The words dripped from his lips like honey and you almost thought your legs would give way. He held you there for a second, his eyes drifting to your lips and staying there for a little too long before he let go and turned his back on you. “Come on, sword up.”

[cripplecharacters]

hello there!

I am currently writing a story (personal project not professional or anything) and one of the main characters has multiple sclerosis, and uses forearm crutches.

I have an idea of some symptoms that I've found from researching (googling, mostly) the disability, the main ones that affect this character being visions problems, mobility problems, pain and muscle spasms & stiffness & weakness.

do you have any general advice on what to avoid and what is good to include on writing a disabled character, both in general and with the specifics i am describing?

for physical appearence, like clothing and such, anything i should know about clothes that could impede the character in using their forearm crutches or dealing with pain?

more specifically, are there any kinds of footwear that are especially bad or good for people who use forearm crutches? i was thinking work boots with some kind of padding, but i would like a second opinion.

i'm not sure how much of the research i'm doing will actually show up in the story or how far i'll get in writing the story, but i would really appreciate your help!

hello i just sent a longer ask, the character (who i forgot to mention their name in the last ask, oops) Lichuen uses forearm crutches and would decorate them. what are things to know about decorating crutches? Lichuen has a kind of pastel frilly bog witch aesthetic and i imagine they would use stuff like lace to decorate, but i don't know what kind of decorations would interfere with the crutches' purpose

General advice: For any disabled character, my general advice is to give them goals that aren't just related to their disability, to give them hobbies and likes and dislikes, and to know as much about their disability as you can so you can know how it would affect them and how they navigate the world.

Vision problems: Feel free to check out our blindness tag! Different types of vision problems and visual impairment will need different things, but we have a variety there. Research what specific issues with vision your character has, too! Like, do they wear glasses? Do they need a white cane? Etc.

Chronic pain, muscle spasms, stiffness, and weakness: We have a chronic pain representation tag that might be helpful, as well as a mobility disabilities tag that could help if your character's muscle spasms, stiffness, and weakness cause a mobility disability. Check out our mobility aids tag if they need any, too. Overall, chronic pain is often tiring, as are muscle stiffness and weakness. Bodies use a lot of energy when they have trouble moving and when they're in pain. Your character could likely need breaks and rest more than others do.

Clothing & footwear: I actually found a website with the purpose of helping crutch users find comfortable footwear! crowdsourced by people who use them, too. The consensus, before you click the link: arch support or general foot placement support, sturdier/durable and sometimes zipper/slip-on rather than laces. As to clothing, I couldn't find anything specific, but generally speaking it seems like anything that is too loose and/or long in the arms area and could get caught in the crutches would probably be avoided.

Decoration: Some people post about how they decorate their aids! This person has this particular post of them actively decorating their crutches (i couldn't find their pronouns so i'm defaulting to they/them).

Hope this helped!

– mod sparrow

[avanatural]

That Simple

Summary: Beau goes to Y/N, a new friend of his, for some dating advice. Is the charming new Sheriff gonna get the date that he’s hoping for? 

Pairing: Beau Arlen x female Reader

Category: Fluff

Word count: 1.8k

Chapter warnings: None

A/N: This is my very first story about Beau. I hope you like it! Send me an ask if you want to get tagged in my future fics about him ❤️ 

Series Masterlist | Beau Arlen Masterlist | Part 2

Main Masterlist

The bell above the door announced his arrival.

Beau looked around as he entered the hair salon, his eyes scanning the place for a certain someone. Once he spotted the familiar face he was searching for, a grin appeared on his mouth.  

Y/N looked up from her day planner, holding the phone in her hand as she spoke to a customer. Once she spotted the new Sheriff, she smiled, just like she always did when she saw him.

Beau Arlen was like a wizard who cast a spell on everyone around him. He spread his charm wherever he went, drawing people in without even realizing how hard he made them fall for him.

“Yeah… See you on Thursday.” Absentmindedly, Y/N ended the phone call.

Beau walked up to the counter. Up to her. “Hi there,” he drawled.

“Hey, Beau, what can I do for you?”  

“Actually…” The tall man leaned against the counter, his stance casual. His voice lowered as he breathed, “I have an emergency…”

“An emergency,” she repeated and touched the base of her neck, already wondering how she could fit another appointment in her schedule.

“Yeah.” He clicked his tongue. “I’m here for some advice, if you don’t mind.”

“Hm…,” Y/N hummed and crossed her arms over her chest. “That’s relieving.”

Beau moistened his lips, his tongue sliding slowly across his mouth. “Why’s that?”

“Because I wouldn’t wanna chop off any of that gorgeous hair.”

The skin around his eyes creased as he beamed at her. With dimples showing on his scruffy cheeks, he pointed his finger at her. “And you call me charming.”

“What can I say? I learned from the best,” she chuckled, “So, what’s the emergency?”

“Well…” He shifted on his feet and sighed, but the sparkle didn’t leave his eyes. “I wanna ask out this… Beautiful, kind, intelligent woman, you know?”

Y/N arched a teasing eyebrow. “Oh? That sounds like an emergency, alright.” Had the new Sheriff actually come to her for dating advice? “What’s holding you back?”

“I don’t know if she sees me that way… She’s kind of a mystery.” He hissed, dragging a breath of air into his mouth through his teeth. “And she seems way out of my league.”

“Beau… Listen to me.” Y/N leaned across the counter, inching closer to him as she supported herself on her forearms. “You’re a catch. Any woman would be lucky to have you. I say go for it. No grand gestures, just walk right up to her and go ‘Hey, you wanna go on a date?’”

He pinned her down with his intensely bright green eyes and cocked his head to the side. “That simple, huh?”

She blinked at him kindly. “That simple.”

“Alright.” Beau cleared his throat, as if to prepare himself, and tossed a wink in her direction. He then turned around and walked back to the door.

Y/N narrowed her eyes at him, close to laughing. He was so goofy sometimes. She was about to ask him where he was going, and if she should wish him luck, but he held up his pointer finger, signaling for her to pay attention.

Beau took a deep breath and pushed back his shoulders. Next, he moved his head from left to right as if to pop away the stiffness in his neck. He then gazed into one of the mirrors in the salon and adjusted his growing hair.

At this point, Y/N couldn’t stop the series of soft chuckles that escaped her lips.

Finally, Beau plastered a lopsided smirk on his face and walked back up to the counter. His bowlegs strolled forward casually as if he was stepping across a made-up catwalk. He leaned against the table, looked Y/N straight in the eye and said, “Hey, you wanna go on a date?”

The smile on Y/N’s face faded, quickly swapped for wonder. “Wh-“ Her head tilted to the side. “Are you practicing, or-“

He shook his head ‘no’ and gave her a genuine smile that made her heart hammer violently against her chest.

Astonished, she pointed a finger at herself. “I’m the mystery?” The smile returned to her lips, lighting up her entire face. “You wanna go out with me?”

He opened his arms widely, ready to offer himself to her. “If you’ll have me.”  

Her lashes fluttered against her cheeks with excitement. The grin on her face easily reached her eyes. “So, you think I’m beautiful, kind, and intelligent, huh?”

Beau placed his forearms on the counter, bent forward and slid closer to her. “Those are just a few of many good qualities, but yes.”

Y/N’s head lowered on its own accord as she smiled to herself.

“Oh, there it is!”, he exclaimed, pointing his finger at her face, “That gorgeous blush I’ve been waitin’ to see!”

“Beau!”, she scolded with flushed cheeks and slapped his shoulder. The two of them were attracting attention by now.

He laughed wholeheartedly and slid even closer across the counter. “What? I could make you blush all day.”

Her eyes narrowed at him. A coy smile tugged on her lips. “I bet you could.”

His brows wiggled like two happy dancers. “So… You wanna go on a date with the new Sheriff in town?”

About ready to burst with eagerness, Y/N reached across the counter and placed her hand on top of Beau’s. “I’d love to.”

As their date came to an end, Beau walked Y/N to her door. He’d taken her to a fair a few towns over. They’d played games, gotten on rollercoaster rides, and she’d even managed to get him on the ferris wheel.

His warm hand on her lower back made the butterflies in her stomach go wild. He walked so close to her that she could smell his cologne. His scent was a mixture of old spice and vanilla. It was intoxicating.

“I had a great time tonight. Thank you, Beau,” she said once they reached her front door. She held on to the cute little teddy bear that he’d won for her. ‘So you don’t forget about little ol’ me’, he’d said as he’d handed her the stuffed animal. As if she could just forget him.

“So did I.” He paused, then wiped his brow. “I know I’m usually one talkative bastard, but… Tonight actually left me pretty speechless,” he chuckled.

Y/N suddenly realized that he still hadn’t removed his hand from her lower back. Having his arm around her waist made her feel like she was floating, her head in the clouds. “Yeah… Me, too.”

“Listen, uh…” His adam’s apple bobbed as he gulped. His brows knitted for a second. “I really like you, sweetheart. And I wanna keep this up.” His free hand gestured back and forth between their bodies. “But there’s somethin’ I gotta get off my chest.”

She studied his face closely. There was a hint of concern in his eyes, something she’d never spotted on him before. Her heart took a leap of worry, scared of being disappointed. “Okay, shoot.”

“So, I have a daughter…”

Y/N pursed her lips and nodded her head. “I know. You talk about her all the time.” She couldn’t even count the number of times that he’d mentioned his daughter since they’d gotten to know each other. It was endearing. He was a very loving man.

“Yeah…” Beau’s mouth curved into a fond smile. “She’s my pride and joy. The thing is…” He let go of Y/N’s back and shoved his hands into the pockets of his brown jacket. “Her and I, we sorta come as a package deal, you know.”

“I understand.” She placed her hand on his upper arm, giving him a gentle squeeze. “If things get serious between us… I’d feel honored to get to know her one day.”

Beau’s face loosened up and brightened with awe. His brow relaxed, and the corners of his mouth quirked up. “Wow. That simple, huh?” Honestly, he’d imagined that being a single dad would make getting back into the dating world more difficult.

“That simple.”

“So, can I book the next date right away, or…?”

Y/N chuckled, captivated by the light that shone in his eyes. “I’m free on Saturday.”

He did a graceful little bow and nodded his head. “Saturday, it is.”

She just couldn’t seem to lose her smile around him. He was good for her, she knew it. And he was in the process of stealing her heart, after just one date. Y/N chewed on her lower lip. She didn’t miss how Beau’s attention was drawn to her mouth.

“So…” She stepped closer, knocking the tips of her flats against his boots, feeling the heat radiating off of his body. “Are you gonna kiss me or not?”

“Been thinkin’ about it all night, darlin’.” His warm, apple green eyes bored into hers. His arm snaked around her waist. With a crooked smile, he pulled her flush against him. He lowered his head for the tip of his nose to bump against Y/N’s.

She giggled against his lips, anticipating their first kiss, and got up on her tiptoes to nuzzle her nose against his.  

Beau helped her out by tightening his grip on her waist. He kept her pressed up against him, his free hand coming up to caress her cheek. Affectionately, his thumb brushed against her cheekbone. Her skin was so soft. She was like a porcelain doll to him. So delicate and beautiful. A treasure.

When their eyes fell shut and their lips finally connected, sparks flew. Beau’s lips felt like soft, plump pillows as they molded against hers. His beard brushed against the skin around her lips. His kiss felt like a breath of fresh air during a heatwave.

Time seemed to stop around them as they exchanged gentle pecks of their lips. Beau’s hands remained on Y/N’s lower back and on her cheek. She was a perfect fit for his embrace. Her mouth tasted of cherry lipstick. If he could, he would have lived through this exact moment in a never-ending loop.

After they broke apart, the taste of her lipstick lingered on Beau’s lips. He wished he would be able to taste her forever. His enamored eyes roamed her facial features. Damn, he was one lucky guy. The sound of her laughter soon echoed through his ears, pulling him back to reality.

“What?”, he asked with a smile on his face.

“Come here,” she giggled. Y/N’s thumb found his lips and gently wiped away the lipstick stains on them.

Beau caught her hand in his and pressed an affectionate kiss to her fingers. “Thank you.”

“Anytime.”

“I’ll call you tomorrow,” he vowed and gave her hand a squeeze.

Y/N responded with an encouraging nod. “Please do.”

Beau didn’t let her out of his sight as he stepped away. Their hands remained intertwined until the growing distance between them forced them to let go.

“Good night,” she said, already missing his warm touch. She could still feel the tingling sensation of his beard on her chin.

“G’night, darlin’. Sweet dreams.” He winked at her before finally turning around and walking back to his car.

A dreamy sigh came out of Y/N’s mouth.

Oh, she was going to have sweet dreams, indeed.

Part 2

[archsarmedadvice]

Knights, Horses, and the Medieval Battlefield

This post is a focused version of a larger post, many thanks to Arch for allowing it here!

The Medieval Horse

During the middle ages, horses were not actually defined by breed. They were defined by the work the horse was suited and trained to preform. There were five main types of medieval horses.

The Destrier

Also called The Great Horse for its size, strength, and price, this horse was the renown mount of knights and kings in battle. These horses were highly trained for battle, and could be taught to do such things as striking out at soldiers in front, kicking at soldiers from the back, and even leaping all four feet in the air to protect it’s rider. They would wear the most armor, and these horses would likely be closest in appearance to the modern Andalusian.

^‘The Modern Knight’, Jason Kingsley, and his horse Warlord.

The Courser/The Charger

A lighter horse than the destrier, the courser is also a warhorse, highly trained and well-bred, but a little less expensive. A knight might not be able to afford a destrier, especially as a minor knight, but every knight should have a courser. The Spanish Jennet is the epitome of the medieval courser, and in fact was the horse used by Richard II. According to Shakespeare, the horse’s name was White Surrey, although other sources claim the horse was Roan Barbary, and was a Barb or Berber horse*.

*Bought from Spain and likely a cross of Spanish and African blood, so a Jennet. But Jennet was also a classification of a horse type in those days, so, sources are muddled.

^Barb/Berber horses in traditional garb

The Rouncey

The ‘average’ horse of the time, this horse was used mainly for riding, but could sometimes be ridden into battle if trained properly, and were the preferred horse for lower-class fighters such as archers or men-at-arms. As it described a riding horse, these horses came in all shapes and sizes, from all lineages, and in all colors. In peacetime they could be used to draw carriages or work fields. A proud and expensive destrier would never be caught pulling a plow.

The Palfrey

A highly-bred, highly trained horse, this horse is a high quality riding horse known for a specific gait, called an ambling gait. This horse had a special pattern of moving its feet that gave the rider a considerably more comfortable ride than the traditional 4 gaited horse. After the middle ages, these horses almost disappeared, only to be recovered in the Americas in the form of 'gaited’ horses such as the Paso Fino, the Rocky Mountain Horse, the Missouri Foxtrotter, and the Tennessee Walking Horse. The Icelandic horse has also retained the special Tölt gait that may* be the exact gait of medieval ambling horses.

^A fine lady on her steady palfrey

The Packhorse

This describes any kind of horse, usually a rouncey, that is used not for riding but to carry supplies. Packhorses could also be mules, donkeys, and ponies, so long as they could carry weight for long miles. These were supply horses, carrying food, weapons, tents, whatever else may be needed.

^Pack horses can be strung together in long 'strings’ of horses for transportation, or a single packhorse may follow through herd instinct. Packhorses are also rideable, if you want to give the main horse a rest.

Horses on the Battlefield

Now, if you have seen the above scene, you have probably seen The Hollow Crown, a historical drama with a few late Medieval battle scenes. In these scenes, knight clashes against knight in a furious charge, leading to pitched battles on horseback. I’m not going to say that never happened, but by and large cavalry was directed against infantry, not other cavalry, or used to conduct maneuvers requiring speed and surprise, such as a charge, a circling maneuver, a bluff retreat and most importantly, to chase down routing enemy soldiers.

A knight on horseback was most effective in close quarters against unmounted and surprised soldiers. Lances were the primary weapon, allowing a mounted warrior length to spear and batter down at enemies, and a sword was secondary, as it had a shorter length, and would be used if a mounted warrior was surrounded by infantry or in battle against another knight. Throughout the medieval period, horses sometimes were removed from the fight all together due to unfavorable land, and kept in reserve to either help the army flee or to chase down the fleeing enemy.

Somewhat realistically for facing an infantry, the Rohirrim here are wielding lances, which are a powerful tool of any charge. Unrealistically, they are instead using their horses as orc plows, which is… a choice. A charge is the cavalry’s best weapon, combining the horses’ speed, power, and training to create a wall of death and hooves. A good charge can split an infantry line, disrupt command signals, and even send the poorly-trained soldiers into a panic. A bad charge can end with the knights surrounded and pulled from their saddles to be stabbed and stomped into the ground. Such was medieval warfare.

[neteyamssyulang]

Rough

Day 24

Pairing: Rotxo Aged up x Fem metkayina reader.

Summary: Things take a slight turn when your mate Rotxo sees another male touch you.

Warnings: Dom Rotxo, Sub Reader, Jealous Rotxo, P in V, 1 ass slap, Creampie.

Word count: 456

Translation(s): Muntxate -> Female spouse, Yawne -> Beloved, Paskalin -> Honey.

A/N: I didn’t have many ideas for this but I hope this is enough <3

Tags: @teyamsatan @pandoraslxna <3

His fingers dig into your arm as he kept dragging you towards your shared marui. Once inside he let you go only to tie the flaps of the marui shut.

"Ma'Rotxo please, let me explain.." you placed your hand on his shoulder but quickly took it off as he turned to face you. His eyes once blue like the ocean now are dark filled with rage.

He chuckles darkly "Explain what Ma'Muntxate? How you let another male touch you when you know your already mated to me?"

"It was just a hug! He was thanking me for giving him advice on how to ask his crush out" annoyed you roll your eyes.

A deep growl rumbles through your mates chest as he stalks over towards you "Is that so? Are you that oblivious y/n?"

Confused you tilt your head "What are you talking abo-" , "His crush is you!" He shouts cutting you off making you flinch.

"I- I didn't know.." your ears pin back against your head out of shame, your mates hands cup your face forcing you to look at him. "Of course you didn't" he sighs, "Maybe it's time to remind you who you belong to."

A gasp left your lips as he ripped off your top and loincloth throwing them to the side of the marui before taking his own loincloth off.

"Get on your hands and knees yawne" you didn't need to be told twice, you made your way over to the bed getting on all fours arching your back raising your ass in the air.

Rotxo walked till he was behind you, slowly he kneeled behind you placing his hands on your hips. You could feel the tip of his cock prodding at your wet entrance, without warning he rammed himself inside you.

A high pitched scream left your mouth feeling your mates cock bullying your insides to make room for him. He kept his pace with hard deep thrusts repeatedly grazing over your g spot.

"Who do you belong to paskalin?" He seethes, when you don't answer his hand comes down hard onto your ass making you yelp "You! I belong to you!"

“Good girl” he purrs, “My good girl.” Hearing his praise was all it took for you to go over the edge. Rotxo held his hand over your mouth to suppress your screams as he continued fucking you through your high.

Once you came down from it he didn’t stop, he was chasing his own release now, his fangs bared as he panted feeling so close to his climax.

With a groan he slammed his hips against yours one final time before filling you with his warm sticky seed.

“You did so well for me sweet girl.”

[circusgoth-dotcom]

A Gift From The Heavens

Ship: Jay x Bear x Silent Bob, Bear x The Metatron

Word Count: 1299

Summary: Set around Christmas, Jay wants to buy Bear the perfect gift for his birthday (December 24th) and calls upon The Voice Of God™️ (aka The Metatron) for advice. Shenanigans ensue when Jay takes the angel to the local mall to shop for this gift. CWs for toilet humour, religious themes kind of (comes with the territory), canon-typical suggestiveness, Christmas mentions.

Tag List: @canongf @futurewife

Jay sat in the bathroom of Bear’s apartment, fiddling with a flip phone decorated with angel-themed stickers; apparently, it was the only way for Bear to contact his angel boyfriend, The Metatron, and summon him to Earth. It rarely left Bear’s sight, considering what might happen if it got into the wrong person’s hands, and though Jay felt a little bad about snatching it, he needed The Metatron’s advice.

“It would’ve been way helpful for you to keep his number written down somewhere, Bear,” he muttered to himself as he flipped the phone over in his hands. “What fuckin’ numbers would be associated with an angel?? 666??? No, that’s the devil…”

He opened the phone, his tongue sticking through his teeth as he thought hard, hesitating momentarily before beginning to punch in random numbers. Luckily, it seemed he struck the right combination shortly, for the phone began to glow with heavenly light.

“Yes!”

The Metatron appeared before him in his humanoid form but still displayed his wings, obviously expecting Bear as he knew they liked it when he hugged them and wrapped his wings around them…

“What is it dar… oh. It’s you,” his fond tone immediately became one of unimpressed surprise.

“Metatron, bro!” Jay hopped off the toilet, oblivious to the angel’s slight displeasure. “I’m so glad you weren’t busy, I really need your advice, man.”

The angel arched an eyebrow, folding his arms and his wings. “Whatever for?”

“So you know how Christmas is coming up? And Christmas Eve is Bear’s birthday, yeah?”

“I follow.”

“I have… no fucking clue what to get him! And Silent Bob won’t let me in on his plans, the sneaky bastard…”

“So I’m your last resort?” The Metatron clicked his tongue, rolling his eyes subtly. “Typical… why don’t you just ask him??”

“I tried, man, but his lips are sealed!”

The angel paused, quickly gathering Jay presumed he meant “ask Silent Bob.” He sighed, “No, I mean, why not ask Bear? Surely that is the most efficient course of action you can take.”

“Ohh! Well it’s not really much of a surprise then, is it??”

“Who says it has to be a surprise? In my experience, Bear is… well, I wouldn’t say a very straightforward individual, but he knows what he wants, really, just ask. You don’t need to be wasting my time with trivialities like this.”

Suddenly, a knock came at the door, followed by Bear’s voice. “Jay, are you done in there? I’m gonna have to take like, a mad piss soon, dude.”

“Just a second!” Jay then leaned in closer to the angel, whispering, “Come onn, dude, I don’t wanna disappoint him! Just meet me at the mall at five, alright??”

The Metatron gave him a flabbergasted look. “I am not meeting you at the mall at five.”

“Dude, we saved the world together! Does that mean nothing to you?!”

“Technically, it was Bethany Sloane’s actions that saved the world. You’re just a self-proclaimed prophet who helped her in her journey. Goodbye, Jay.” With that, the angel disappeared. Jay groaned and exited the bathroom.

“He’s gotta fuckin’ come…!” He grumbled to himself as he swapped places with Bear.

~~~

At five that evening, the usual posse arrived at their local mall; Jay, Silent Bob, Bear, and The Metatron, now hiding his wings. Jay sent Bear off with Silent Bob to the food court, then quickly began leading The Metatron around the numerous stores.

“I can’t believe I’m actually doing this. I’m the voice of God, for Christ’s sake…” The angel muttered. “I suppose this is the price I pay for falling in love with a human.”

Jay suddenly turned to him, fists raised. “Upset him and I’ll kick your fuckin’ ass.”

He raised his hands defensively. “I’m not complaining about loving Bear, I’m merely complaining about your mulishness! You really believe I would ever speak ill of him, I mean, I’m here, aren’t I, helping your indecisive arse?”

“I’m just sayin’!” Jay shoved his hands back into his pockets before doing a double take as they passed a lingerie store. “Do you think they’d like anything from there??”

The Metatron followed his gaze. “All you humans think about is sex appeal.” He then sighed and began approaching the store. “Doesn’t hurt to look around.”

After much putting down of Jay’s suggestions of new undergarments for their partner, the odd pair left the lingerie store in search of something less suggestive. They browsed Spencer’s, a used video game store, and even a personal care shop. Once Metatron had to physically drag Jay away from the mall’s arcade.

“Honestly, you’re worse than a child!” The angel scolded as Jay struggled for a moment in his grasp before The Metatron let go.

“You could’ve given me five more minutes, I was about to beat some jockstrap’s high score!”

“We don’t have five more minutes, the mall closes at nine and we still have to collect Bear and Silent Bob from wherever they may’ve wandered off to before we leave.”

Jay was about to retort when his jaw dropped as something in a nearby store caught his eye. “I know what Bear wants.”

“Eh…?” Once again, the angel followed Jay’s wandering gaze and settled upon a window display mannequin wearing a hot pink Juicy Couture tracksuit. “Oh, yes, I have heard him gushing about those velour tracksuits… but how are you of all people going to afford it??”

“I’ll just turn on the ol’ Jay charm.” Jay grinned and winked before waltzing into the store, leaving the angel half-stunned.

“Oh I can’t bare to watch,” he finally murmured, burying his face in his hands as he waited by the store’s entrance. A few minutes passed before he felt a tap on his arm and cautiously peeked through his fingers. Jay triumphantly held up a nondescript bag, presumably containing a tracksuit in Bear’s size. The Metatron blinked in surprise but made no expression beyond that as his hands fell away from his face. “Consider yourself blessed, Jay.”

He pinched the bridge of his nose as they wandered off to track down Bear and Silent Bob, eventually finding them making out near the bathrooms.

“Come on, you two,” The Metatron announced as they pulled apart. Silent Bob looked less than pleased at the interruption, but Bear shrugged at him with a smitten smile and hooked his arm with The Metatron’s.

“So, did you find what you were looking for?” Bear asked as the quartet made their way out of the mall and back into the treacherous winter of New Jersey.

“Yep! I think you’re really gonna like it!” Jay spoke proudly while The Metatron shot him a warning glance.

“Oh! It’s for me?”

“Totally--”

“Jay, why don’t you tell Bear about your little arcade adventure?” The Metatron spoke in a slightly raised tone, hoping if it didn’t remind him that he wanted the present to be a surprise, it would at least distract him from saying too much for the moment. Luckily, the angel’s plan worked, as Jay immediately began a tangent about him being a “stuffy old man” who needed to “loosen up,” and how he was surprised that Bear hadn’t achieved that already. Mentally, The Metatron gave a breath of relief. Jay ragging on him was much better than allowing him to undo all of the hard work they had just put in. When they returned to Bear’s apartment, Bear asked him to stay.

“I mean, you already made the trip, and it’s clear God can get along just fine without you for a few hours…” He enticed, wrapping his tiny, cold hands in The Metatron’s much larger and much warmer ones.

“Well… alright. But only because you’re asking so sweetly.” The angel hummed, kissing Bear on the forehead and making him smile.

[thirdeyeblue]

Ten x Rose | Adult | One-Shot (9k) | AO3

Tags: First Time, Confined Spaces, Dry Humping, Fluff & Smut, Etc

Since I wrote this way too early for a Halloween fic back in February, it’s only fitting that I share it way too late on Tumblr (past 10 PM on Halloween night). I’m not feeling super great mentally, however — and posting fic makes me happy. May it hopefully find at least one person who’s never read it and wants to keep the spooky spirit alive a little longer. It’s not my best fic, not by a long shot, and the whole premise was lovingly contrived from an inside joke born out of Discord server lore — but it is what it is! 🎃

On a small, Earth-like planet called Roon, it was always autumn.

The Doctor landed the TARDIS near an orchard abounding with great, big apples he claimed were the sweetest and juiciest in the universe, having Rose’s mouth watering before they’d even stepped foot onto the luscious grass beyond the doorway.

Before them was a field lined with endless rows of fruit-bearing trees, each filled with multicolored apples so heavy that they bent the branches they grew upon.

Signs were posted every so often; worn, painted arrows indicating a myriad of family-friendly attractions within walking distance. This is how they realized the orchard they’d arrived at was actually a year-round, traditional, Halloween-themed farm; replete with pumpkin carving, petting zoos, photo ops, and what was supposedly the biggest ‘haunted maze and adventure’ on the planet.

Rose hardly even had to beg to get the Time Lord to agree to explore once they’d picked their fill of apples, even after he’d surmised they landed in the relative ‘off-season’. 

‘Far as I’m concerned, that’s just fewer people around to get in our way,’ he’d declared with a grin. 

After dropping their bounty back on the TARDIS, they went hand in hand down a seemingly endless row of trees, following the arrows that directed them towards what was more than likely the epicenter of entertainment.

The lack of crowds on the farm made it easy for the pair to take advantage of whatever they wanted. They spent a guilt-free hour in the Cider Barn sampling all sorts of sweet drinks, scooping pretzels in apple butter; then raced down the street to spend far too much time petting the planet’s sort-of-but-not-quite-Earth-like livestock.

(Rose’s favorites included a flock of docile chickens as tall as rubbish bins, as well as a pair of noisy horses with dog-like paws.

All afternoon long, they were looking forward to their ‘haunted adventure’, deliberately putting it off until nightfall, per the advice of an employee. He’d been a teenage boy with violet skin and amber eyes; wrists sore from dipping and packaging candy apples, obviously overjoyed to finally have a customer for the first time in hours. 

"It's not the best time of year to come here," he'd told them with a shrug. "Might be a little scarier if you go after hours."

They thanked him and bought two sliced caramel apples, snacking on their treats at a nearby picnic table that overlooked a massive labyrinth of hedges.

It was already sunset, so when they’d finished eating, they returned their baskets to a collection bin and linked arms. Together, they began to make their trek towards the first part of their ‘adventure’: an arched gate leading into a dense forest. 

They figured it couldn’t hurt to get a tiny head start.

x

With arms crossed, Rose brushed her palms up and down in an attempt to create friction, hoping to warm herself up as she watched the Doctor kneeling over a rock and grinding down pine needles. She wanted more than anything to wrap herself up in his great, big coat, but he’d left it on the TARDIS, having not foreseen any of this. 

It'd all taken them by surprise: the duration of the ‘adventure’, the dramatic drop in temperature, and the need for anything that would have done a less archaic job of accomplishing what he was now working to achieve by means of a makeshift mortar and pestle. 

About an hour and a half into their surprisingly lengthy jaunt along a winding path dotted with holographic horrors, flashing lights, and spooky sounds, something had caught the Doctor's eye. He’d dragged Rose behind several tall bushes when he caught sight of something lurking in the distant dark: a species of canine known as "crendals". The large, wolf-like hounds were terrifying to look at, but according to him, had only been utilized due to the fact that, in spite of their ghastly appearance, they were virtually harmless.

That is, unless you happen to be made up of “deliciously warm and plasma-based blood”, something that didn’t typically exist in the advanced species of that particular solar system. 

“Probably been ages since a proper human came around,” the Time Lord mumbled absently as he dropped another hefty pinch of needles onto the flat rock and began pestling with determination. “Crendals aren’t native to Roon, so someone had to have brought them over, and… Suppose since it’s the off-season, it seemed scarier to let a bunch of big, threatening hounds loose than continue paying actors to lark about in makeup and costumes.” 

After several moments, seeming content with his work, he scooped half of the powdered pine into his palm and rose to stand before his companion with an apologetic smile.

“So, what is this going to do, exactly?” she half-chattered.

“Well. Unless you'd prefer that I fashion a rope and bind you to my body for the last leg of the forest, our safest bet is to utilize a simple, temporary olfactory misdirection.” He picked some of the fragrant green substance between three fingers, holding it in front of her. “Pine is a pungent fragrance, like citrus. Incredibly proficient at masking the smell of anything else around it, which is why it’s often utilized as fragrance in things such as candles and cleaning supplies. Sort of like the way fruit is so often used to cover up the taste of vegetables in smoothies and liquor in cocktails. Now, just hold still...”

Rose did as he said, trying not to think about how it might not be so bad to be bound to him as he began to blow pine dust around various points around her body. She also tried not to pay attention to how nice his breath felt as it caressed her neck, then her arms, then thighs. Her attempts to distract herself were nearly thwarted when he collected a little more from the rock and began applying it to her visible pulse points, suppressing a shiver when his fingers pressed beneath her ears and rubbed gentle circles into her sensitive skin.

“That should just about do it,” he smiled, bending down to collect the rest in a leaf, then folding it up shoving it into the inside pocket of his suit jacket. “If I’d have brought my bloody coat, it’d have done a much better job of disguising your scent, but… Well. suppose I’ll never leave that behind again.”

Rose drew a cold-shaken breath. “It’s f-fine,” she chirped.

The Doctor’s eyes widened as realization swept over him. “Blimey, why didn’t you tell me you were freezing?”

“I-I’m not that c-cold.”

With an exaggerated sigh, he had his jacket unbuttoned in seconds, pulling it off and prompting her with a nod to extend an arm so he could begin slipping it onto her. “I’m sorry, Rose — I forget I’m flush with layers when I haven’t got my coat on. Good thing is, this should only help to cover up your... human-ness.”

Being that it’d been resting against his cool skin, the jacket wasn’t very warm at first, but the insulation had her warming up almost immediately anyway. Plus, it did smell like him, which was a lovely little added bonus. “Thank you,” she sighed, and still standing behind her, he smoothed the material over her back. “D’you really think we’re gonna be safe like this?”

The Doctor spun her around and put his hands on her shoulders, raising his eyebrows in that way that he does when it’s most imperative that she listen, and listen well.

(Bit difficult to listen with the way he was now more dressed down than she’d ever seen him, barring the Christmas jimjam incident)

“I will not let anything happen to you. Alright? Never. Just gotta get through the maze, and we’ll be on our merry way.” He smiled. “I’m sure the exit is just on the other side. Now…” Releasing her, he stepped back and held out his arm, which was now clad in nothing but a navy blue oxford. “Shall we?”

They walked stealthily — or rather, as stealthily as they could with arms fastened to one another — through the last leg of the forest, finally entering an area made up of tall, artificial hedges that made up a classic maze. Enormous jack-o-lanterns and assorted props were spread all over, including real, donated skeletons, but only of the native species. The rest were fake, extraterrestrial recreations (with “an embarrassingly shoddy lack of anatomical accuracy”, according to the Doctor).

There was a depressing lack of anything actually scary, reinforcing why the apple-dipping teenager had suggested they go at night; but the threat of encountering the mangy, red-eyed, wolf-like beasts around every corner was more than enough to make Rose shiver from more than just the chill.

Eventually, the narrow hall of the maze opened up into a large, circular courtyard lined with wrought iron lanterns that glowed dimly through the thick cover of fog, as well as a tall, ornate fountain that stood as a silhouette in the center of the haze. There were spider webs spread across every hedge and lamp post, as well as spooky, ambient music playing from speakers disguised as fake rocks on the ground.

“See Rose, we ought to be getting close. Been a while since we’ve seen one of these old fake rock speakers, hasn’t it? They really skimped out for a good stretch, and if I had to fashion a guess, I’d say it’s probably because nobody wanted to go hiking out that far. Really, there’s nothing to panic ab—”

The sound of a snarl in the distance cut him off, and he clutched her hand tightly, tugging her closer to his side. When she looked up at his face with alarm, he tilted his head in the direction he intended to lead them, which was through one of three openings in the hedges that lead elsewhere in the maze.

Continuing on with their strategy of following a single wall in one direction, they proceeded to make their way toward the opening on the right, picking up their feet as quietly as they could.

Neither said a word as they stepped through what was now a new area to them: a long path with a massive influx of spiderwebs strung all across from one side to the next, with skeleton alcoves lining the length of it. The spiderwebs (fake, thank god) were obviously placed strategically to require attendees to exert themselves a bit, bobbing and weaving through the thready, straggling obstacles like secret agents through a complicated network of lasers. 

They met each other’s eyes again to nod in solidarity, relinquishing their held hands to begin their journey through the maze-within-a-maze. Rose wanted so badly to just tear down every web and be done with it, but to make any unnecessary noise would have been very bad indeed.

It was difficult to tell where their pursuer lurked until, just a row over, a growl tore through the quiet space.

In a move completely void of grace, the Doctor’s hand shot out to the side and grabbed one of the plastic human skeletons with the nonsense anatomy by the neck, yanking it from its alcove with a plastic clattering of bones. He then grabbed Rose around the waist and all but threw her into the small space, stepping in and pushing her into the fake, plastic hedge. She swallowed hard, now cramped into the tiny rectangle of space with the Doctor completely boxing her in. 

Under normal circumstances, she’d be having something of a claustrophobic panic attack, but… well. It was the Doctor, and he was so close, and her fear was suddenly at war with a very different feeling — one which she abruptly shut down before it could fester into something very, very bad.

The next words he spoke came out quickly and quietly, but without so much as a single flub.

“Right. What I’m about to do might seem incredibly rude, if not more than a bit offensive — but I assure you, I’m only doing it because it’s absolutely vital in order to ensure your safety — so, if you… you know, if you wouldn’t mind standing still—”

Before she had a chance to puzzle through whatever it was that he was on about, claws clacked and scratched against the stone walkway nearby, pushing him into action. Without further delay, he used his whole body to press her into the hedge, tucking his face into her neck as he proceeded to grind himself against her.

Rose’s hands shot up to take hold of his shoulders as her legs nearly gave out. She gasped lightly but swallowed the urge to make any more sound, lest she gives herself away. He rubbed his body against hers over and over, doing so in a way that was undoubtedly not meant to be sexual, but her body didn’t know that — only that she and the Doctor were smashed together in the dark, and between the tight proximity and his breaths on her neck, it was almost enough to break her teeth from how tightly she clenched her jaw.

She hadn’t even realized the enemy was closing in on them until, through her half-lidded eyes, she caught a glimpse directly behind him, meeting a pair of huge, red, pupil-less eyes set in the face of the massive head of a Crendal standing no more than ten feet off.

“D-Doctor,” she whimpered, and oh god, that sounded ridiculous, didn’t it? It sounded like she was certainly enduring something, but what that ‘something’ was, err...

It definitely wasn’t fear.

“Rose,” he moaned into her neck — again, moaned into her neck — using his hips as the primary point of pressure the next time he rubbed against her, and ahhh, she did shudder then, because how could she not? It hadn’t seemed sexual before, but now it clearly was, and oh, okay, yeah, coherent thought was no longer something she would consider a ‘distinguishing feature’ of her psyche.

“Th-the… it’s right there,” she indicated as her head fell forward, landing on his shoulder. It was truly embarrassing, considering he wasn’t even applying any pressure where she really wanted it — also clearly wasn’t hard. Because what he was doing wasn’t sexual. Not one bit. 

“Right there?” His voice was exaggeratedly husky as he pushed her into the hedge with his hips, making her gasp again. 

Rose’s eyes squeezed shut as her arms wrapped around his neck. God. She was hopeless to hide her state if she responded even minutely, so she bit down on her lip and just waited for it to be over, waiting for either him to stop or to just be eaten by the creature and be done with it already. 

The mere fact that randiness was dominating over fear in a situation involving a Lovecraftian beast was something she didn’t feel like examining, not that she could — it was difficult enough to think clearly.

Quite abruptly, the Doctor pulled away from her, avoiding her eyes as he cleared his throat.

“Right, then. Think we’ve thrown it off for now.” He turned away from her and peeked around each corner, then gestured outward from the alcove with a tilt of his head. “Let’s go.”

Rose righted her posture, straightening her skirt and clearing her throat as it registered that her face was burning hot… and she was alarmingly aroused. She didn’t even know what to say as he led her out into the open area and carefully replaced the skeleton, but thankfully, he spoke first.

“Sorry ‘bout that, I’d, erm, intended to just get enough of my scent off on you, but when the Crendal lingered, I sort of… Wellll. I panicked, and, well, I realized I needed to resort to more… radical measures.” His hand darted up to ruffle the hair on the back of his head. “It was either that or pretend to be eating you. Anything to ensure they knew you were, erm, spoken for, so to speak. In one way or another.” He still hadn’t met her eyes, ducking beneath one of the webs and holding it up so she could pass through easier. 

“Course.” She sounded breathless. 

“Good thing is, you should absolutely smell enough like me to keep those hounds off of our trail for a little while... Suppose pine wasn’t cutting it as much as I’d hoped it would.”

“R-right.” Rose brought a fist to her mouth and coughed, ducking beneath the web he’d cleared for her. They were nearing the end of that stretch of maze, but the bulk of her energy had since shifted to trying to steady her heart and her breathing. The Doctor had to have picked up on the state she was in, and now he was acting uncomfortable because of it. There was no other explanation for his skittishness.

Mortifying. 

How did apple picking turn into this?

Thankfully, the next several minutes passed smoothly as they continued their strategy of following the wall in one direction. Amongst the quiet music (now reminiscent of a run-down carnival) and ghostly sounds playing from hidden speakers, they encountered a couple of ‘ghost’ holograms that were actually quite impressive, as well as their first (what would turn out to be the only) proper hired actor of the night: a man with a chainsaw that clearly didn’t have a chain running through it.

It was still quite jarring after having not seen anything but crendals on their trek, and with hands clasped, they ran for their lives, not stopping until they finally popped out of the other end of the maze just a moment later.

Before them was a pumpkin patch to their left side, which lay against another series of apple trees. On their right was a big, rusted barn that blocked most of their view of the rest of the field.

“Ahh, brilliant, if that’s the barn I think it is, we’re right at the end. Spotted a brochure at the Cider Barn. Only unfortunate bit is that we’ll be missing the little shop, since it’ll likely be closed this late at night… Really ought to have planned this better… But! No matter. Let’s just go around.” He squeezed her hand and tossed her a grin, finally meeting her eyes for the first time since the alcove, and her heart stumbled. She swallowed roughly and smiled.

“Yeah, that sounds good, I think. Lead the way.”

Together, they tiptoed along the back of the barn, keeping their eyes and ears peeled for threats until they reached the corner of the building and walked around it. Still threat-free, they snuck quietly along to head to the front of the building, hands clutched between them, and Rose was so ready to just finally get out of there — to just get back to the TARDIS and put the whole experience behind them.

… And deal with her body’s pleas to cope with what’d happened in the maze.

As they rounded the next corner to step in front of the barn, they saw the aforementioned little shop, which took up half of the barn, walled off to one side. On the other side was a large, open space; in the center of which they were able to make out the shape of one of Halloween’s classic cliches in the moonlight: a hearse.

A rather large hearse, at that. The elongated back had a higher ceiling than Rose would have expected, and curiously, the rear door was hanging wide open. 

“Look at that, Rose! Just like back home, eh?” The Doctor’s voice was an enthusiastic whisper. “Oh, it’s a beauty, too. You know, I always wanted to drive one of these. Not the most efficient mode of transportation, nor is it exactly eco-friendly, but truly unique in both appearance and purpose.”

As he wittered on, Rose was busy scanning the landscape of trees and pumpkins they still had to traverse when she spotted a very welcome sight in the distance: the main cluster of barns, booths, and pavilions they’d first arrived at outside of the orchard. More important than anything about their 'haunted experience' was how it seemed like they'd gone much further away from where they started. They really had just looped around it, and quite brilliantly. She hadn’t even realized they’d gone in a circle. 

Then she heard a snarl, then another, and at the same time, hers and the Doctor’s heads both whipped to their right, where they saw an entire pack of crendals not far off. At least seven or eight, by the look of their shadows.

“Well. That’s not good,” the Doctor murmured. “That’s very not good indeed.”

Rose looked up at him with wide eyes. “Could we get into the shop, do you think?”

He turned to her and reached into one of his suit jacket pockets, almost immediately withdrawing his hand. “Bollocks. I��stashed my sonic in my coat earlier... Remind me to never go anywhere without that blasted coat again, even if we’re in the bloody desert.” He frowned, then turned fully towards her, meeting her eyes head-on. “Don’t worry, though, they can’t see from that far off — but we need to hide. Come on.”

Taking her hand again, he ushered her towards the back of the hearse and gestured into it. “Get inside, quick, quick.”

Rose did as he said, climbing into the vehicle. There was a massive coffin in the center, which sent a chill down her spine despite knowing there definitely wasn’t a body — it was a prop, after all. She slid alongside the box and sat pulling her knees to her chest, watching the Doctor trying and failing to pull the door shut.

“Oh, brilliant,” he scoffed quietly. “The latch is jammed… Oh, there isn’t even a latch. What sort of hearse is this?” A nearby growl made him stiffen, and he tossed a glance at Rose. “Get down. Far as you can. Now.”

Right when she began to lower herself as directed, she had an epiphany that, in retrospect, seemed fairly obvious. 

“Doctor, wait, why don’t we just…” She got up on her knees and tested the heavy lid of the coffin, then pulled it open, not knowing what else they could possibly do that would be a better idea. She reached inside and felt the surprisingly plush interior, then she was climbing in, sitting up as she held up the lid. “Plenty of room in here, yeah?”

And there was. There was more than enough room for them to lie side by side, it would just be a bit tight. The walls were deep enough that they could close it and still have plenty of space above them, hopefully not feeling entirely like they were being buried alive. They could spend the rest of the bloody night in there if they wanted.

She saw his silhouette look back and forth from the coffin to the outside a few times. He must have been weighing the risk factor, but the sinister sounds of snarling and panting were drawing even closer — likely no more than twenty feet off — and his mind was made up. He pushed himself up and climbed into the box, still sitting up halfway on his side when a loud, barking growl jarred them from right outside the barn.

In a moment of (quite literally) blind panic, Rose grabbed his arm and yanked him down hard, accidentally knocking him half on top of her. Just for good measure, the sharp jostling of weight sent the lid of the coffin crashing onto his head, knocking him the rest of the way down onto her and practically crushing the wind from her lungs.

“Ouch,” he whispered in the pitch-blackness, seemingly unbothered by his position, chest to chest with one of his thighs sandwiched between hers. She was very happy he wouldn’t be able to tell just how deeply she was blushing. “Are you alright?” 

Rose’s heart was pounding painfully from both fear and position. She couldn’t see his face — or anything, for that matter — but she imagined his deep brown eyes fixed on her with a look of concern that creased his brow beautifully. “I-I’m fine. Are you? Is your head—”

“Shh,” he covered her mouth with his palm in a fraction of a second, and before she could protest, she heard the crunching of paws on dried grass nearby, followed by a series of sniffs and deep, rumbling snarls.

The Doctor lowered himself further onto her; slowly, carefully; even taking consideration to adjust himself so there was more of his body touching hers. Covering her scent in his again, she imagined. That didn’t matter, of course; because the Doctor was on top of her with his hand on her mouth in the dark, and his thigh was so painfully close to her groin, the area of which was covered by nothing more than knickers beneath her skirt.

“Shhh,” he repeated almost shakily, pressing meaningfully against her, his chest and belly encroaching on hers and his thigh irrefutably pressed between her legs. 

She shuddered. 

He noticed. 

At least she assumed he noticed, because she felt him grow slightly rigid as soon as it happened — but it was too late. It would have taken the restraint of a nun to keep her body from reacting to what was happening, and she was nothing of the sort, so she was absolutely fucked. 

They needed to get out of that coffin. 

Soon.

Her breaths through her nostrils were heavy and irregular. Just like back in the alcove amongst plastic hedges and skeletons, she wasn’t even thinking about the threat anymore, because in that small space, every sense was heightened — all of them concentrated on the Time Lord above her.

Outside, they could hear at least one of the beasts coming to investigate the hearse. Rose could hear it sniffing around on the floor of the back of the vehicle as its mates growled and cackled in the distance, and seconds later, the sounds of its sniffing traced the thin line where the lid of the coffin met the base. 

Without warning, the Doctor nearly mashed his palm over her mouth as he pressed his thigh down hard between her legs.

Oh. God. Rose’s nails pressed into his shoulder over his layers as she bit the inside of her cheek, squeezing her eyes shut, channeling every shred of self-control she had to keep from moaning or shaking or grinding on him like some incorrigible little trollop. 

The Doctor remained perfectly still above her as lust and frustration rushed about like madness in her skull. She wondered what he was thinking, because of course he knew, didn’t he? Why else would he be hell-bent on providing such intense barrier between her crotch and the open air while creatures were attempting to sniff out a human nearby?

When it finally grew quiet outside again, he exhaled in a heave of a sigh, pulling his hand from her mouth. She heard soft ruffling in the bedding as he planted it beside her head. 

“Rose,” he murmured, his voice almost strained. And still not moving off of her, she noticed. “Are you…”

Her stomach dropped.

Please don’t send me home, please don’t send me home, please don’t send me home…

“Well… yeah.” She turned her head to the side, nose practically touching the wall of the coffin as she felt shame and embarrassment washing over her. “Sorry. Can’t exactly help it.”

The Doctor didn’t speak for a moment, completely still above her again, then she heard the distinct sound of him wetting his lips.

“Was gonna ask if you’re alright.” 

He finally let off some of the pressure between her legs, and as though he’d instead been pressing his leg over her windpipe, Rose gasped in a quiet breath, doing her best to avoid sucking down air as though she’d been tied up at the bottom of the pool. It was much easier to think clearly without feeling him touching her there, however indirectly.

“I’m the one who should be apologizing,” he added. “I had to… it’s just…Thing is, they can smell far better than they can see, Rose, and… and…”

“Doctor…” Rose sighed. “I get it. S’fine.”

“You see, in times of intense adrenaline brought on by stress, the body is highly susceptible to strong reactions to things such as—”

“Doctor. You haven’t got to say anything else, just…” She deliberately clunked her forehead against the wall of the coffin. She just wanted him to shut up, please for the love of god just spare me the embarrassment. 

“Oh. I, well…” she heard him swallow, “I just wanted to tell you that it’s normal, alright? For stress to make the body do things it normally wouldn't, erm…”

Rose was at her wits end. “Right, of course, s’the bloody hounds that made me feel like this,” she bit out, her voice dripping with sarcasm.

“I… wait.” The Doctor was silent for a moment, and she swore she could almost hear his brow wrinkling above her. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Still struggling to breathe properly, Rose curled her toes in her trainers in a nonsensical beat from one foot to the next. “Don’t pretend you don’t know.” Because he had to have been pretending. Of course he was. Surely she wasn't just dumping a bucket of new information over his head.

The Doctor’s voice was deep and serious the next time he spoke.

“Indulge me.” 

... Or maybe it was new information.

Maybe she could have just kept her mouth shut. Saved them both the trouble. Her fear of rejection was searing hot inside of her, loud and growing and clamoring about.

Well… It was too late to walk it back now.

“I just mean… y’know. Maybe…” Her voice trailed off, then she collected herself. “Maybe I’m not reacting like this ‘cause I’m scared.” She licked her lips. “Maybe I’d, you know, still react the same way even if there weren’t any… dogs.”

There were several seconds where the Doctor said nothing; not moving an inch as he allowed the air to fill with the sounds of their breaths, hers still far more uneven than his.

She'd already said too much. She knew that, and she was scared — but for that quiet, in-between period, she found stasis beneath him; in the surprising warmth and smell of him, all crisp autumn leaves and warm, sticky caramel from the apple slices they’d been dipping before they’d embarked. 

After the longest handful of seconds she could ever remember experiencing, there was a slight shift, and she knew he was closer now. She could feel the presence of his face right above hers, could hear the sound of her breaths bouncing off of his face at a much closer proximity.

“Rose…”

His voice was low and labored, and though Rose always thought there couldn’t be a chance he would handle it well if he were ever made privy to her feelings, his body language would suggest that he had no intention of moving away.

Not a single centimeter.

“You’ve been in this state before around me,” he realized. “Not just tonight.”

She should have known he could tell. Of course he would be able to. Her heart clenched with nerves. She was searching his voice for any evidence of disgust, any indication that he was uncomfortable with this revelation, but she consistently turned up short.

“Yes,” she admitted, biting down on her lip and chewing anxiously.

“Was…” He cleared his throat. “Are you saying that was because of—”

“Yes.”

“Oh.” He swallowed. “Oh.”

“... Yeah.”

A few more seconds of silence.

“Really?”

She rolled her eyes. “Doctor, don’t be stupi—“

He dropped down and kissed her suddenly, swallowing the end of her sentence with the insistent press of his lips that was so unexpected, it took her a second to register that it was actually happening. It was imperfect, messy; an impulsive clash that only hit the mark by half — the other half landing somewhere in the vicinity of her chin. 

Rose didn’t care if it’d landed on her bloody eyebrow. The Doctor was kissing her. He’d just found out that he turns her on with semi-regularity and now he was kissing her, breaking away and coming back to take her lips properly in a demanding snog that swiftly had her heart fluttering with the beat of a hummingbird’s wings.

Before she could wrap her arms properly around him, he used his thigh to push very deliberately between her legs, the action so unexpected that a moan flew unbidden from the back of her throat.

Breaking away again, the Doctor breathed in through his teeth, pressing a little more firmly against her. “That okay?” 

Rose nodded shakily, frantically; but just as soon realized he probably couldn’t tell, so she did the only thing she could think of and rolled her hips down to grind against him. 

The groan he responded with was incredible; possibly the most beautiful sound she’d ever heard. Shock and pleasure zipped brilliantly through her, adrenaline running high, then she felt him moving and shifting above her.

He rolled onto his left side just slightly as his hand moved and reappeared at her hip, skimming down the outside of her thigh, then slipping beneath her knee. Rose could only surrender to his actions as he pulled her leg further open, readjusting his lower half at the same time.

As his weight settled comfortably back over her, her frazzled brain shorted out as she fully recognized their new position, with the Doctor’s hips between her thighs. 

Her breath hitched.

“Rose,” he whispered, so close to her face. He lowered his forehead to hers and pressed tenderly, shaking as she felt him stiffening beneath his pinstriped trousers. He grew hard much quicker than she could have anticipated — probably a Time Lord thing — but in that impeccable moment, she could feel him there, feel the gorgeous weight of him resting between her legs. He was letting her feel it, feel him, and her responding goosebumps covered her body from head to toe.

“Doctor.” Her arms were like jelly as they attempted to clench around his neck. He kissed her softly as he drew back, then rolled forward and ground his erection against her. He moaned and Rose gasped out a small, squeak-like sound, her head dropping hopelessly against the soft pillow beneath her as a tremor ran through her in the darkness. “Oh, god…”

The Doctor hummed deeply and kissed her again, then he was tugging at the denim skirt of her overall dress, pulling roughly until he’d gotten them up far enough to push her legs further apart. When he pressed himself against her that time, she made a needy, begging sort of noise against his mouth, feeling the length of him pressed snugly against her. It left very little to the imagination other than wondering exactly what it might feel like to have him inside of her.

She hooked her leg around his hips to slowly rut against him and he groaned achingly; trapping her lower lip between his teeth, skimming fingertips around her thigh to grab a handful of her bum as he pinned himself to her with a firm push of his hips.

It took a few tries to work the angle out, but when they did… Oh, when they did. 

Amidst a soft chorus of moans, three hearts beat heavily between them as he began a slow, dragging rhythm, pulling her close each time he ground his hard cock against her. Rose let out a shaky mewl as the fabric of his trousers slid along her thighs, rasping over her knickers; precise, focused thrusts working his length against the split of her folds to rub gentle friction along her clit.

His kisses were teeming with emotion as he pulled one moan after another from within her, moving his body in wonderful sync with hers. She clung to him just as he clung to her, not caring for one second that this was all very sudden — she wanted him, she was smitten, and if the way this was finally going to happen just happened to be fully clothed in a pitch-black prop coffin, she would take it.

When the tiniest little sound cut off in the back of her throat, the Doctor broke away with a shuddering breath, murmuring her name against her lips. It was intoxicating, and oh, she wanted more than anything to look at him, to see her beloved, beautiful Time Lord spun out in pleasure. However, just to be able to hear him, to feel him; it was so intimate, so perfect, that she didn’t care if she never saw anything else ever again. She could stay suspended with her Doctor in the heart of darkness forever, until she breathed her last breath, so long as she could do so in the cradle of his arms.

So softly, he pressed his mouth to hers, his tongue sneaking out to gently tease her lips apart as warmth bloomed through her chest like cotton wool. She parted for him and he slid inside; his caramel-sweet tongue moving like velvet over hers. 

He was a devastatingly brilliant kisser, she was pleased to find; lost to the way he continued shrouding her in affection, rocking into her with insistent hips. 

Scraping her nails through his hair, Rose lowered her calf from his hips to wrap around the back of his thigh, tugging him closer each time he rocked into her, whimpering hopelessly into his mouth. He broke away and panted hotly over her lips between a few wet kisses, still hard at work unraveling her.

“Oh, Rose.” He met her hips with a swiveling twist that made them both shiver and gasp, and again, why did it have to be so dark, she was aching to see him. “This feels so good. You’re so warm and soft…”

Her breath caught on a moan and she nodded, eyes nearly closed. She started to say something, but then he swiveled into her again and her voice fell into a whimper, completely lost to what he was doing to her.

“Yes,” he hissed, lowering his face to her neck and sucking softly at her skin before kissing his way up to her ear, where he began to whisper as he moved. “You make such sweet, lovely sounds. You must look so beautiful, Rose… I wish I could see you right now. Wish I could watch you.”

“Aaahhh…”

“Oh, yes… Yes, just like that...”

“Please,” she sounded quiet and frantic, split on a razor’s edge as her hands moved across him like she didn't know where she wanted to touch most, when really, she just wanted to touch him, all of him, all at once. Her hands found his perfect bum, then moved again to his lower back, pressing her tension into his oxford with her nails. “Oh, please, Doctor…”

He purred against the shell of her ear, flicking his tongue across her earlobe. He then drew back and kissed her again, three loving presses of his lips, his mouth slanted over hers as he whispered, “Anything.” Another kiss. “Anything you want. I’m yours.”

“Please,” she repeated, shaking all over. She couldn’t believe how badly she needed him, how much she loved him. She couldn’t believe he was doing this with her. Her heart felt like it might burst. “Pleasetouchme.”

He hummed again, a hungry, impassioned sound that expressed approval as he eagerly raised his hips and slid a hand down between them to cup her sex. 

“Ooh,” her hands clenched at the fabric of his shirt and tugged. “Yes…”

The Time Lord let out a tattered sigh as he rubbed a few circles over her knickers. He only toyed with her for a moment before slipping beneath the edge of the thin fabric, flicking it aside so he could press intently, two fingers dipping between her soft folds. He breathed out a curse.

“Rose,” he growled, then briefly pressed inside, pumping gently as she mewled and writhed beneath him. “Oh, sweetheart. Just feel how wet you are…”

His slick fingers retreated to coast upward through the split of her, then he was playing with her clit, stroking back and forth before painting tiny circles that had her whole body racked with shivers. Endless, quivering sounds poured from her lips as he touched her reverently, skilled and determined.

She was so close already. She’d already been dancing along the edge from their grinding, but now she was properly there, rotating her hips along with his touches, picturing what he must look like above her as he stroked her. She mewled his name again on a shuddering breath and he kissed her, sucking at her lip as his fingers teased the pulsing bud again and again. He broke the kiss to lay his forehead back over hers.

“So beautiful,” he purred, nuzzling her nose. “Go on, sweetheart… I want to feel you come for me… That’s it…”

Seconds later, her mouth fell open as she slipped straight over the edge, gasping, nearly breaking her hands with how tightly she gripped his shirt to keep from crying out in the darkness. The Doctor’s fingers continued slipping back and forth over her clit; soft, wet caresses that propelled her through her pleasure, slowing down near the end as he brought her down gently. 

As she returned to herself, he was pressing kisses all over her face, ending at her lips, where he welcomed her tongue back into his mouth in a lazy snog that he moaned into almost instantly. 

“That was wonderful,” he murmured when they broke apart, making her melt with the way she could literally hear his smile in his voice. “I wish I could have seen it, but oh, the sound of it…”

Rose came so close to saying it: ‘You can see it any time you like’, ‘We can do it again as soon as we get back to the TARDIS’, but she was afraid to, so she just kissed him again, sliding a hand into his hair to hold his mouth against hers.

When he pulled back, he dropped a kiss to her forehead, then pressed another to the tip of her nose. “Was that alright?” he asked once she’d been quiet for a moment. “Is everything…?”

She exhaled in a soft huff. “God, yes, but…”

“... But?”

She steeled herself as her tongue darted out across her lips, tasting him there. “Do we have to stop?”

A few seconds passed before he spoke.

“Rose,” his voice was somewhat guarded, trepidatious. “What do you…?”

“I mean,” she pressed into him, where he was somehow even harder now, which was a bit too much stimulation over her for a moment. “You’re still…”

“Oh… Oh, don’t worry about that,” he chuckled lightly. “I’ll be alright.”

Ergh. He was always taking the lead in just about everything they got up to. Why did that have to end at sex?!

She took another long, deep breath. “But… do you want to stop?” 

“As opposed to…?”

Damn it.

Right, okay then. He had to be deliberately skirting the obvious, she realized. Playing dumb because he was the one worried about overstepping her boundaries.

She rocked up into him and he groaned, breathing hot and heavy, pressing into her at the same time. The sound spurred her on, and she did it again. 

“I want to do this,” she purred, pushing against him one more time. With a burst of bravery that she latched onto with everything she had, she reached down between them, pressing her fingers over the button of his trousers. “Without these.”

The Doctor gasped at the unexpected touch. “F-fuck… Rose, are you sure?” A pause. “Here?”

No hesitation this time.

“Yes.”

Thank god, he didn’t need any more convincing after that. 

It was a little frantic in the tight space as they both attempted to divest him of his barriers, like they were both equally worried the other might change their mind about this reckless thing they were getting up to in the dark. Still, the Doctor slipped the button free himself, which was followed by both sets of hands working in frenzied tandem to get both his trousers and pants down his legs as best they could — which was just about to his knees.

Rose reached between his legs and wrapped her hand around the warm, smooth skin of his shaft, then he swore again, moaning and dropping his mouth to hers. He lowered his hips as she continued to stroke him, reaching with her other hand to pull her knickers further to the side, not even caring about taking them off. She needed him desperately, no more interruptions.

She gently pressed him through her slit, teasing herself with the silken head of his cock. Bloody hell, he was so smooth against her; so much hotter than the rest of him, pressing tantalizing heat against her sex as she guided him up and down again and again. She couldn’t wait to feel him inside of her, and he must have felt the same, because the sounds he made now were every bit as eager and needy as hers. It only served to make Rose wetter for him, igniting a primal need that brought her just short of begging him to fuck her.

They moved together a few times, slickening him up. He was breathless, trembling above her, then she positioned him at her entrance, keeping him there to guide him as he pushed forward and into her. 

“Fuck,” they gasped in unison, then his lips were back on hers. He kissed her as he buried himself deep, fitting her perfectly, then he broke away so they could both moan.

“Ooh...” He drew back and slid into her slowly. “Oh, Rose.”

She didn’t know how to form words, overcome with emotion and all-encompassing completeness beneath him, so she pulled him down mould her lips against his. He felt so good inside of her. 

The Doctor started to make love to her right there on the bedding of their coffin, and did so exquisitely. The threat outside was long forgotten, replaced by their soft, tremulous sounds of pleasure, joined together in the dark.

“Oh, god,” Rose’s hands returned to his lower back, sliding down to his bum and pulling him closer with each delicious slide through her heat. “Don’t stop.”

He whispered her name as he slid a hand back beneath her to angle her pelvis, then his hips, making her cry out softly as he entered her with one exploratory thrust that was both hard and fast. The adjustment created the perfect pathway, which he followed eagerly, each thrust driving his cock straight into her g-spot as he entered her. 

Over and over, he drove his hips into her, burying himself deep; panting and moaning above her as Rose spiraled into a procession of whimpers and curses and ragged, wavering moans. Tiny specks of blue burst through her vision in the dark as the Doctor fucked her hard and slow, nurturing that delicious heat as it pooled inside of her all over again. 

It was difficult to believe what was happening to her, that the Time Lord would share himself with her like this, but the thought was fleeting as he brought his mouth to hers. “I’m yours,” he murmured through her parted lips, dipping his tongue inside to glance against hers before withdrawing slowly from her mouth. “So long, I’ve wanted this. Wanted you… Needed you… Oh, fuck, please tell me you’re close…”

“So close,” she insisted breathlessly. “Doctor…”

He brought a hand to her face and caressed her cheek with his fingertips, drifting across her eyebrows, her eyelids, then her mouth, and she realized with a skip of her heartbeat that he was trying to ‘see’ her, trying to paint a picture of what he looked like while he moved inside of her.

“Beautiful,” he rasped, kissing her before tracing her lips again. “Mine. Oh, Rose. Need… Please…”

His desperation meshed with the incredible feeling of him throbbing deep inside of her, and Rose came hard; her climax hitting her with a suddenness that made her entire body surge upwards against his. He gasped out her name as his body stiffened, then with a heavy, shuddering moan, he was coming apart above her, riding her through her orgasm as he joined her in release.

Their bodies shook as they slowed to a stop, kissing each other over and over, not an inch between them. They continued to exchange languishing kisses as they caught their breath, slowing until he finally broke away, resting his forehead against hers.

“Wow,” he gasped. “Oh, wow.”

“Yeah.” Rose laughed. “Wow.”

“Rose, that was unbelievable.” Another soft kiss. “You’re incredible.”

Her heart, still raw with emotion, did a flip in her chest. “Doctor…”

“Mm?”

“Are we alright?... You and me?”

Again, she could practically hear his face contort above her. “What do you mean?”

“After that, I just mean…” 

He cut her off with a brief kiss, then he sighed. “Rose, I don’t know what that was for you, but as soon as I get you back to the TARDIS, we’re going straight to the Vortex so we can do that again. All day, preferably, with the lights on, so I can see every brilliant face you make.”

She blinked, not knowing why she was so shocked — only that she most definitely was. “Really?... You’re not, I don’t know, planning on running for the hills?”

He laughed properly at that, sliding back and out of her before carefully repositioning himself at her side. “What I said a moment ago wasn’t just… dirty talk.” He sought out her forehead in the dark, then traced his fingertips along her hairline and brushed a few loose strands away from her face. “I have actually wanted this, you know.”

Rose was incredulous, wishing she could look at him properly; wishing they had so much as a single Christmas light to be able to see each other in the darkness. It was killing her, not being able to make eye contact with him for any part of this. “But why didn’t you say anything?”

“Come off it with that. What could I have said? I’m not supposed to get up to these sorts of things. I don’t get up to them, thanks. Well… that is to say, I have, but I certainly haven’t in… Oh, longer than I can even remember. Certainly not in this body, nor the previous.”

The relief that flooded through her was almost embarrassing. Perhaps once or twice, a couple of incidents had led her to believe that he’d perhaps that wasn’t the case, but she trusted him completely, knowing he wouldn’t lie to her about something like that.

“We can talk about this in the morning, though. Hm?” He cupped her cheek and leaned forward, missing her lips again now that he was in a new position, having not memorized their location from her side. They both laughed lightly before he kissed her again, his lips resting perfectly over hers before he drew back. “Should probably get some rest. At this point, I’m certain I smell just as much like you as you do like me, so I’d rather not risk crossing that field tonight.”

“We’re just going to sleep here?” Rose grinned, certainly not hating the idea. “Grab a kip in a coffin?”

“Well. We’ve just grabbed a shag in a coffin, haven’t we? Where exactly is your line, Rose Tyler?”

They laughed together again, ending as he pulled her close and tucked her head beneath his chin. She snuggled up to him, happier than she ever thought possible. 

After a little light pillow talk, they finally drifted off, arms glued around each other in the night. 

x

Early in the morning, the Doctor jolted awake to the sound of a loud creaking sound, followed by the hearse shaking beneath the coffin. 

It was light enough outside that the light shining through the cracks in the coffin dimly illuminated the space, and he looked down at Rose, who was looking back at him with wide eyes.

She had never looked more beautiful, and blimey; he wanted to tell her as much, wanted to show her, wanted to pin her down and fuck her all over again, but it seemed they had more pressing matters to attend to.

“What was that?” She asked quietly.

Outside the box, there was another voice. 

“What? Is there someone in there? Hey, who’s in my hearse?!”

The Doctor held up a finger, then he turned his head as he pushed up slowly on the lid, peeking out. At what he saw, he cleared his throat. “Ah.”

Directly outside of the hearse, they’d managed to miss the elaborate photography setup about fifteen feet away. The roof of the hearse was also on hinges with a mechanism to prop it open, and clearly, they’d taken refuge inside the coffin that was intended for people to pose inside for a photo op.

“Who are you!?” a large, green-tinted Roonish man yelled from beside the vehicle, arms crossed. “What are you doing in there!”

The Doctor lowered the lid and looked down at Rose, who had her lip caught between her teeth. Her face was tinged pink as she smiled sheepishly. 

“Erm, well. Rose, it would appear we’ve taken shelter in a Halloween photography setup.”

“What?!”

“There’s cameras and haystacks and lighting rigs outside, evidently.”

“Oh.” Her hand flew up to her forehead, and she looked like she was trying very, very hard not to laugh. He smiled.

“I’m calling the authorities!"

“No, no, no, no —” the Doctor pushed up the lid again, this time joined by Rose, who popped up at his side. “There’s really no need for that —”

The man’s jaw dropped when he saw that he wasn’t alone. “Wait… Wait! What were you doing in there? Get. Out. Of. My. Coffin!”

Rose waved a hand flippantly. “Sir, please at least let us get decent, for god’s sake.”

The pair disappeared back into the coffin, ignoring the angered babbling of the employee as he prattled on. They held back their laughter as best as they could; exchanging a few kisses as they got their clothing situation in order, pulling things up and buttoning them, and tucking things back into place. 

It took a moment, but when they finally got out of the coffin and stepped dizzily out of the back of the hearse, there were already security guards waiting for them.

With just a touch of guilt, the Time Lord reached into the pocket of his suit jacket, which was still being worn by Rose, and retrieved his psychic paper, demonstrating that they had every right to be there, as they were testing the safety and durability of the coffin. It didn’t please the owner of the photo stand at all, but they were still allowed to leave, which they did hand-in-hand, running at full tilt for the TARDIS. He already had too much in store for their day, and jail didn’t factor into any of his plans.

The following evening, a brand new and far superior coffin appeared in the hearse with an apology letter neatly tucked inside.

The previous model was hauled away, stored deep in the TARDIS, awaiting what was destined to become a new and brilliant Halloween tradition… One they would be sure to enjoy in a far more private location next time.

[hijab-described]

hey!! I saw your pride meiker, so cute!! Just curious, I want to make a magical girl meiker with some hijab options, is there any specific hijaboptions you'd like to see in dress up games?

Hi! Thank you so much for reaching out! I generally love any and all hijab options in games, though obviously I've got some favorites.

I'm partial to face-framing scarves which are draped over the back of the head with one flowy piece pinned next to the face. It's a style that I included in my pride maker, but here's another reference image for that:

[ID: A Black woman wears a draped purple hijab and orange jacket. The pin holding it together is visible close to where her ear would be. /end ID]

Created with Hijab Girl Dress-Up Game by pastel-chibiku on meiker.

Here's also a tutorial on how to drape it: [hijab tutorial] (Personally I like it when it's pinned not as tightly, but a tighter pin can make it more secure. Maybe that's useful when you're a magical girl and very physically active.)

I also love looser scarves which show a bit of hair and neck, which is a style I like to wear myself.

[ID: Alice wears a loose blue scarf with some of her blonde bangs and her neck visible. /end ID]

Created with Alice in Wonderland Dress Up Game by ameera on meiker.

There's also a style called tudong/tudung in Indonesian. I'm not too familiar with it, but I sometimes see it in photos and think it looks so good. It has a way of draping the headscarf in a very prominent arch over the forehead, sometimes using a sown-in curved visor to achieve the look. This product video shows the style beginning at second 12. (It also shows the non-rectangular shape of the scarf, in case that's a useful drawing reference.)

This game Hijabi Dress-Up - Sea Breeze by elyon on meiker also has two very nicely drawn scarves.

[ID: Side-by-side picture of the two hijab styles. One is a simple face-framing style with one long piece draped over the shoulder. The second is the aforementioned style with the loose end near the face. /end ID]

Also, I think it's really great when games include a niqab option (face-veil). There's so many niqabis out there but they get so little representation.

[ID: A woman with medium skin wears a purple hijab and niqab. Her underscarf is crisscrossed in style. /end ID]

Created with Spring Awakening by ameera on meiker.

Then there's also the very simple style of just taking a scarf, placing it on your head, and flipping one side over your shoulder. Like my profile pic. It's a timeless classic.

I'd also advice to include at least one "hijab friendly" outfit in your game, meaning one outfit with arms and legs covered. Hijab is more than just the scarf, it also includes covering the rest of the body, though each hijabi decides for themselves how much is right for them. (For example, some show a bit of hair/neck/short sleeves/etc., while other's opt to wear a burqa or niqab.)

I hope that answer was useful! If you have any more questions, feel free to ask! You can also check out some photo references if you want to get even more of a feel for different hijab types. For example the selfie tag or photography tag on my blog.

Also, if any of my followers want to join in on the conversation, please do! I would love to hear what your favorite hijab styles (for games or in general) are.

[lobster-tales]

Lux's Adventures in Underland

Chapter 1 This work is available here on AO3

Chapter 2: Advice from a Caterpillar

Down and down she tumbled, too shocked even to cry out. The darkness gave way to warm light, and objects flew by as she went: clocks and teapots and playing cards and candles. Lux saw a maroon chaise and reached for it, catching herself on the arm. She found that the chaise itself was not affected by the same gravity, even when she pulled herself into it, and floated through the air like an autumn leaf. Lux took a moment, lying back, getting her bearings as she sank down at a speed that was much slower and easier to comprehend.

The chaise seemed to sense once she'd caught her breath, because as soon as she did, the lounger upended her and she was falling again. Lux grabbed onto more objects to slow her descent: a side-table, a grandfather clock, a desk. But she found the further she went, the slower her fall. In fact, when she reached the bottom, she easily righted her feet and landed gently on the checkerboard tiled floor.

No longer panicking, Lux assessed her surroundings. A hallway full of doors. Some large, some small, and in the center was a glass table with a key and a vial of liquid.

A thrill rose inside of her. It was like coming home to a place she had never been before.

She knew all the doors would be locked, but she tried anyway. She knew the key would only match one door, the smallest door, only ten inches high. She knew that the vial would have a tag that read "Drink Me", that it would make her smaller. However, instead of accidentally leaving the key on the table while she shrank, she made sure to set the key on the ground first, where she could then grab it to turn the lock.

The door opened into a garden. Being only six inches tall, Lux was dwarfed by the plants, of which there was a great variety. Flowers stretched skyward in all shapes and colors, bright and bold. Branches and ferns bent over the cobbled path. The strange thing about it all was that as soon as Lux looked at something directly, the object would shimmer and shift into something just slightly different. A fern would become a cluster of tall grass, or a cobblestone would morph into a mosaic tile.

Despite the bizarreness of the situation, Lux felt... calm. "Right," she said to herself, softly at first in case anyone was listening. "So this is Wonderland. Except instead of a rabbit hole, it was an owl burrow. Curious that, but perhaps certain things got lost in translation."

There was too much foliage to be able to get her bearings, so she made for a shrub and climbed inside, hoping to get a better view from the top. "The story was true, then," she mused as she went. "Perhaps there really was an Alice who fell down the rabbit hole or owl burrow or what have you, and she was simply not believed when she returned home. Or Mr. Lewis Carroll himself had these adventures as a child and decided to profit off of it. Or perhaps I'm no longer Luxanna Crownguard and I myself have become Alice, like some sort of Sisyphean task that gets passed on to young blonde ladies who run from adulthood and marriage."

Through the leaves, she spotted a bread-and-butterfly as it fluttered past.

"Or maybe I'm mad and this is all in my head," she admitted. "And my real self fainted somewhere and in a few moments I'll wake up to Ezreal fanning me and Mum screaming." She allowed herself a chuckle at that. Lux reached for another branch, squeezing through an opening and poking her head above the leaves.

The tall shrubs and grass of the garden lined the path, which she now saw led into a densely wooded forest. Beyond that was a valley: between the shifting trees and fields, she spotted a large farm, a checkerboard plain, and some sort of tower. The only other discernible landmark was the massive castle in the distance, spires piercing the vivid blue sky, the arches of the building forming an asymmetrical, but distinct, heart shape.

"The Queen of Heart's castle," she said. Lux rested her arms on one of the shrub's branches, taking a moment to catch her breath, exerted from the climb. As she did so, she reviewed the information at her disposal. "I suppose it's no surprise that someone like me would wander into Wonderland. If anything, I'm more surprised it hasn't happened sooner. But Caitlyn never seemed like the type to chase owls into fairy worlds. She was always so grounded and rational. A sharpshooter, a detective," she recalled fondly.

She heard a soft nicker, and saw that the sound had come from a nearby rocking horsefly. "I mean it," said Lux as if the strange bug had inquired further. "She's a deadeye with a rifle, and when we were children, she solved the case of the missing meat pies. She noticed the crumbs near the stables, where my brother Garen would often spend time with the horses. We laid a trap for him and caught him red-handed." She chuckled. "He was forbidden desserts for a month."

The rocking horsefly snorted, wings buzzing like a bee's.

"Now it's my turn to be a detective, I fear," sighed Lux. "So let's think. Why would Caitlyn come to Wonderland?" She gazed off towards the forest. "Ekko. He said she sent for me, so perhaps someone else sent Ekko for her. Lady Kiramman mentioned Jayce and the prizefighter 'friend'." She raised her fingers to quote the word. "They all disappeared. And have not returned, so it's likely they're trapped here."

The weight of the situation settled in the air, and Lux began to understand what a true burden it was. Here she had been, ready to enjoy her romp in a fantasy land, when she ought to be preparing for a rescue mission. She regretted her haste now. Ezreal would have been the ideal candidate for such an adventure, or even Garen. Perhaps even, if she had explained, either one might have let her join...

But she knew that wasn't true. They both would have left her behind, left her with her mother and Lady Kiramman. All she would be permitted to do was wait.

The rocking horsefly had rocked closer, curious at her sudden silence. Lux reached out and gently pressed her fingers to the creature's snout, allowing it to sniff her. With a delighted squeal, the rocking horsefly took off, bucking through the air.

Lux surveyed the land once more, squaring her shoulders. If anyone could traverse Wonderland, it would be her. Perhaps that's why the others failed. Perhaps that's why she would succeed.

She descended back down through the branches, confidence growing with every step. When she was right above the ground, the twig under her foot snapped, and she fell with a short shriek.

There was no pain when she hit the ground, nor anyone nearby to see the blunder, but she still felt embarrassed. Lux dusted off her skirts as she rose to her feet, doubt settling in like ice between cracks in the rock.

Caitlyn was a sharpshooter and detective, her 'friend' a prizefighter, and even Jayce himself was a scientist and, according to Caitlyn's stories, the youngest in a long line of blacksmiths. If none of them could make it out of Wonderland, then what chance did a dreamer have?

"Steady on, Lux," she muttered to herself. "Just take it one step at a time."

She caught a whiff of tobacco. Of course, the blue caterpillar. Perhaps he might give her some direction. Lux collected her memories, piecing together the caterpillar's chapter from the book. While she might not entertain any nonsensical poetry reciting, she certainly could do with a bite or two of mushroom: "'One side will make you grow taller'," she quoted aloud. "'The other side will make you grow shorter.'" After all, she was hardly making much progress at this height.

As she walked, the flowers above her bent down, peering at her with their petaled faces. "You there!" a red rose called. "What kind of flower are you?"

Lux paused, debating on whether to ignore them as she really ought not to delay, but ultimately she chose to curtsy. "I'm not a flower, madam. I'm a person."

"A Persian?" a daisy chimed in. "Like a Persian buttercup? I think not, you've not nearly enough petals."

A poppy scoffed, "Not a Persian, a penstemon."

"Ah," said the rose sympathetically. "A beardtongue, of course. You can tell by the way her petals face down."

Lux smoothed out her dress subconsciously. "Um, sure. By the way, have any of you seen a few friends of mine?"

"No beardtongues in our garden," tutted the daisy. "You might try the Duchess's, though."

"No," Lux said, knowing this was futile but asking anyway. "I'm looking for people. Human people like... like the Duchess or the Queen of Hearts." It was a gamble: there was no telling if in this version of Wonderland, either figure would resemble a human.

But the flowers pondered for a long moment, and the rose eventually said, "The Cat can take you to humans. He'll find you in the woods."

"... Don't you mean I'll find him?"

The flowers scoffed and laughed at her. "No one can find the Cat," the poppy said sourly. "He finds you."

"Right." Lux curtsied again. "Thank you all. I'm off to the caterpillar."

The flowers muttered to each other and pulled away, deciding she was no longer worth the attention.

As Lux expected, the caterpillar was perched on a flat mushroom, hookah in mouth. He was fuzzy, which surprised her, as the caterpillar from the book seemed rather hairless. He wore a monocle over one of his bright, curious eyes, and his antennae were wide at the base like ears, pinching into long thin ends.

He seemed delighted to see her, which was quite the relief after the judgmental flowers. "Ah, my dear!" he said, one pair of his many legs linking behind his back. "And who are you?" She knew he would ask.

Lux curtsied. Something about his demeanor made her want to trust him, and she finally released the concern she had been keeping inside. "Well, I knew who I was this morning, though I'm beginning to doubt it now."

"And who were you this morning?"

"Luxanna Crownguard."

"I see," he mused, taking a deep puff. When he released the breath, the purple smoke rose in delicate rings. "And who are you now?"

"I appear to be Alice."

He grinned, the tips of his full mustache quirking as he did so. "Of course you are. They all are, aren't they?"

"All?" she asked, perking up. "So there have been other Alices?"

"Oh yes, my dear. Too many, I'm afraid."

"Were any of them named Caitlyn? Or Jayce?"

"I don't quite recall, I'm afraid." He peered at her through the monocle. "What I can tell you is that you've been the quickest and calmest Alice so far. The others were in quite a state of distress by the time they arrived at the mushroom bed."

She saw then that they were, in fact, surrounded by mushrooms, their tops red with white spots one moment, then beige or gray the next. She saw that the caterpillar's mushroom changed too, from purple to blue to green. "Speaking of which," she asked, "that mushroom you're sitting on, do you happen to know which side will make you grow taller, and which will make you grow smaller?"

One of his little legs waved towards the other mushrooms. "Any of them will do so, my dear. But it will take some trial and error, I'm afraid. Consistency is rather lacking in this world."

"Right." Determined, Lux approached a mushroom, taking a bit from either side.

Before she could lift it to her lips, the caterpillar said, "I must say, I'm impressed with your studiousness."

She frowned at him. "You mean my years of reading a children's story? Hardly laudable research."

"My dear," he said. "Dedication is simply another form of love." He took another deep puff of the hookah, and when the smoke rose, this time it formed a teal heart. "And love is never wasted."

Lux found herself returning his smile, comforted. Returning her focus to the mushroom, she took a small bite.

She shot upwards, nearly losing her balance at the change of altitude. Lux smoothed out her skirt, trying to decide if she was the right height. But she saw a tree nearby that looked more like a tall shrub, and took a nibble of the other side of the mushroom.

As the caterpillar had said, there was a bit of trial and error, but she eventually reached her preferred state.

Satisfied, she popped one of the mushrooms in her pocket, and curtsied down. "Thank you, Mr. Caterpillar."

A small purple cloud rose, reading out the word, "WAIT". Lux hesitated, feeling as though she had already postponed long enough, but knelt down before him. He waved her closer, and she rested her ear beside his little mushroom.

His voice was barely above a whisper:

Secrets trapped in an enchanted cage

Locked in a cellar where wine cannot age

When she was sure he was finished, Lux thanked him again and rose to her feet, contemplating what his cryptic message might mean.

❤︎ ♢ ❤︎ ♢ ❤︎ ♢ ❤︎ ♢ ❤︎ ♢ ❤︎ ♢ ❤︎ ♢ ❤︎ ♢ ❤︎ ♢

At her normal height, the pathway through the garden was much less intimidating, the forest much closer than it looked before. As she approached, she saw the white owl perched in one of the branches: it lifted it's wings and glided into the trees. Reassured, she pressed on.

Like everything else, the woods kept shifting and changing. One moment they were bare trees in the middle of winter, the next they were thick evergreens. Beneath her feet were leaves, or sometimes ferns, but when she looked again, it was mushrooms or twigs.

She pondered where to search for the Cheshire Cat. In the book, he had been at the Duchess's house, though Lux rather preferred not to go there. It had been one of her least favorite chapters, especially with the baby that turned into a pig.

But the flowers had said the Cat would find her. So there was a possibility that even if she did go to the Duchess's chaotic home, he would not even be there.

She decided that the only thing she could do was follow the signs: painted arrows scrawled on splitting boards, nailed to branches and tree trunks. Lux felt quite confident at first, feeling that she was headed in the right direction. But after one crossroads, she turned back from a dead end, only to see that the arrow on the sign had melted and changed direction.

Her nerves rising, she went back even further and found that some signs had flipped around, or disappeared, and one even sprouted legs and ran into the underbrush. She attempted to climb a tree to get her bearings, but it was no use: she was lost. Most assuredly lost.

At one point, Lux tripped on a protruding root that disappeared right after she made contact with it.

"This is bollocks," she muttered, wiping the dirt off her skirt.

An accented voice startled her. "Well, you certainly lasted longer than the rest of them."

She scanned the trees, pausing as a face slowly started to appear. A smiling face. "Finally," she said, relieved.

Unlike the Cat from the book, his grin was toothless, his little mouth lifting his whiskers just slightly. He was rather fluffy for a cat, a soft brown color.

"Aww!" Lux said without meaning to. She regretted it immediately, worried that she had offended him. "I mean... that is-"

"It's alright." He stretched out on the limb, rolling onto his back. "You can rub my belly if you'd like."

Lux, delighted, pressed her hand into the heavy fur on his stomach. She scratched beneath his chin and he purred. "If you don't mind my asking, Mr. the Cat, why do you sound Russian?"

"Because I'm a Siberian." He winked one amber eye. "Cheshire was all out of cats."

Something about his tone gave her the sense that he was lying. She studied his face, which like everything else shifted just slightly. The longer she stared, the more distinct his features seemed to be, and in one clear moment, she was certain that his face was almost that of a man. A thin man, with sharp cheekbones and heavy bags under his eyes, his brown hair sticking out on either side of his head. She blinked, and he was a cat again. Lux was puzzled, but decided that the task at hand deserved her focus more. "The flowers said you'd find me. Would you tell me, please, which way I ought to walk from here?"

"That depends a good deal on where you want to get to," he said, leaning into her belly scratches. He rolled off the branch and Lux gasped, fearing that he'd fall, but instead he floated through the air, twisting around to give her a better angle behind his ears.

"I'm looking for a friend. Her name is Kiramman, Caitlyn Kiramman. And there are others, too. I fear they're trapped here somewhere."

"Are they?"

"Are they what?"

"Trapped." He rolled again in midair, folding his paws beneath his face.

"I... I don't know for certain, I suppose." Lux frowned. "It rather looks that way."

"In this world," he purred, "Things are not always what they seem."

She thought back to the ever-changing signs. But, frustrated by her lack of progress, Lux protested, "No, I'm sure they're trapped, they must be. Ekko said that if I want to find Caitlyn-"

"Ah, the white owl. You followed him?"

"Yes."

He pawed through the air, alighting on her shoulders. Lux expected him to be much heavier, but the thick fur concealed a small body. The Cat nestled his body around her neck, and asked in her ear, "Then why did you waste so much time following the signs?"

"I lost him," she insisted. "I tried to follow the owl, but he's... well, he's a bloody owl! He can fly."

"Perhaps the owl does not want to be found."

Lux, angered, was ready to come back at him, but she paused. The Cat was grinning up at her: not the toothy grin from her book, but a sly grin.

That's what Wonderland was all about, wasn't it? The frustration, being turned around. Shifting trees, shifting signs, it all came with the territory, and she knew better than to let it get to her.

She sighed, and scratched the top of his head, resigned. "I was doing so well, wasn't I?"

"Eh, better than the others."

She took a deep breath. "Where should I go next?"

"Where do you want to go?"

"Well, there's the mad tea party, and the queen's castle." Lux paused. "The caterpillar said something about a cellar, which is more likely in the castle. But..."

"But?"

"... I rather could go for a spot of tea."

He purred again, and the sensation felt lovely against her neck. "Good answer. Take a right here."

The Cat guided her through the woods, even warned her about the shifting roots to ensure that she would not trip. He advised which signs to follow and which to ignore, until finally they emerged to a meadow.

There was a house, or perhaps it was a windmill or a parapet, it kept changing. But it was undeniably tower-shaped, slightly larger at the bottom. Before it was a long table, spread out in a great array of various kettles, cups, trays and plates, all shifting and reshaping into various items.

Off one side of the table sat a hare with dark brown fur and wearing a white waistcoat, his paws tinkering with a pocket-watch. He was using a knife to spread butter into the gears, but treated the task with the utmost delicacy. Once finished, he humphed in triumph, then offered it to a smaller creature that Lux could barely make out. The dormouse, she surmised, pink and barely taller than the pocket-watch itself, nodded in approval. The dormouse then grabbed the handle of a nearby teacup and slammed it down ferociously against a platter, sending shattered porcelain everywhere.

The hare and dormouse howled with laughter, but Lux flinched and said aloud, "Good lord." The two creatures froze and stared at her from the table, and the door to the dwelling creaked open.

A new creature emerged, this one human, taller than average even without the top hat perched on her silky hair, which was a rich cobalt color. "Right," said the woman in a familiar voice. "Who's ready for earl grey?"

She, too, froze at the sight of Lux.

Lux breathed, "Caitlyn?"