#(so i assume a couple others are wandering off and the four of them are just taking full advantage of napping in the grass)

[softersinned]

@surena said: ❝ i have always wanted my own song. ❞ ( hello there!! )

A lazy afternoon in the sun—it's a rarity now, but they all desperately need the rest and the chance to recover, and what else is there to do while they wait? They're all in desperate need of rest, carrying the sort of wounds that can't be healed with a bit of magic, and a few hours' recovery won't do much in the grand scheme of things except allow them to be better tomorrow.

Still, she's nervous, as if any of them could do much of anything right now. They've found one of the few clearings in the Brecilian Forest, and Astoria wasted in time in lowering herself into the grass and spreading her arms wide, face turned towards the setting sun. Not far from them, Leliana is humming and quite meticulously plucking the twigs and leaves from where they've tangled into Alistair's hair as he sits in front of her, legs crossed beneath him, eyes closed, swaying precariously as if to suggest that he's a moment away from falling asleep.

None of them talk about Danyla. None of them give themselves permission to think of her, or how she must have suffered, the agony of the curse as it transformed her. In fact, Astoria is so devoted to not thinking about her that she has her hands folded over her chest, pressed to her heart, as if she can put pressure on the empty ache there and keep it from hurting, and Danyla's last gasping words play through her mind like a repeated prayer.

Elowen's presence beside her, comfortable in the grass and the sun, is a balm to her wounded heart; her voice is a relief. (At least she's not alone. She can't say much for the Blight, but she can say this much: she's so grateful she's not alone.) Astoria opens her eyes and turns her face towards the sound, lips curling up in a smile; she can pick out the familiar profile only barely through the thick grass around them, but she can see enough to make out her expression.

"I'm sure she'll write one about you by the time we're finished, Warden," Astoria says softly, and she lets out a gentle laugh. Leliana is singing, now, the sound quiet but still audible among the gentle wind and the movement of the leaves and the trickle of water. For all its haunting, the Brecilian Forest is beautiful. "Children will be singing of the great hero Elowen Surana. The Avvar sing," she adds, rather suddenly, moved to speak of her own family in a way she rarely is. (There's that ache in her chest again.) "It's how we pass our histories to one another, and the stories of our gods." And her smile widens, and she reaches to her side, catches Elowen's fingers in her own to give them a quick, comforting squeeze.

"When I go back to my Hold, I'll teach them to sing about you, too."

[flowerxbunnie]

hiiii i really love ur smuts and i have a suggestion that i’d DIEE if you’d consider.

Okay so it’s a matt one and y/n and matt are in a relationship like IN LOVEEE. and they have seggs for the first time and he’s really sweet and romantic. like dominant but in a sweet way. no degrading just comforting and sweet. also mention how BIG he is and how she’s like strugglinggg but he’s so sweet to herrr. TYSM LUV YA💋💋

Unexplored

Matt x Fem Reader

Warnings: SMUT. virgin!reader, experienced matt, oral (f&m receiving), fingering, unprotected sex (assume you’re on the pill)

DO NOT READ IF YOU ARE NOT OKAY WITH SMUT OR ARE A MINOR!

6.1k words

The car door closes gently behind you, a warm palm caressing the small of your back as you walk towards Matt’s apartment. He guides you up the steps and to the front door, grabbing his keys off of his carabiner to fiddle with the lock. He gets the door open and extends his arm out, letting you enter first just like he always does.

The smell of sandalwood floods your nose, a scent you’ve associated with the warmth of his space. Every Saturday he takes you on a different date he meticulously plans before both of you come back to his apartment, doing puzzles or watching movies or rotting your brains on TikTok together for hours.

You take your heels off and place them on the shoe rack next to the door, giggling as you shrink about four inches in height next to Matt.

“What’s wrong, short stack?” He chuckles as he teases you, his hands gripping onto your waist and pulling you close.

“Not a thing.” You look up at him as he peers down at you, his brunette hair falling over his forehead messily. You reach up and gently brush the strands back out of his face, watching as his eyes flutter shut before locking onto yours again.

“You’re beautiful, have I told you that before?” He asks in a hushed tone.

“A couple times, I think.” You reply with flushed cheeks, throwing your arms lazily around his neck.

His grip on your waist tightens as he lets his eyes drift their gaze down to your lips. They wander down your neck, collarbones, down your chest, and all the way to the floor before traveling back up. He can’t help but drink in the sight of you. You interlock your fingers around him as you stand up on your tiptoes.

You place a soft kiss to the corner of his mouth, his prickly stubble brushing against your lips. You move to the other side, placing another small kiss to the other corner, but this time he turns his head, his soft lips meeting your own. You kiss slowly, your lips melting together. You can taste the chocolate ice cream on his lips, something you always stop for after your dates.

Matt opens his mouth, allowing you to deepen the kiss and explore it with your tongue. You can feel your heart beating hard in your chest, and you hope more than anything that he can feel it too. You want him to know just how crazy you are about him. How much your body craves his touch.

Your stomach starts to tighten into knots just thinking about it. Matt has been incredibly patient with you your entire relationship. It’s been three months, but you haven’t allowed yourself to give in just yet. He’s never made you feel like a burden or like you have to do anything, he’s never once pressured you or tried to talk you into anything. You’ve never been able to get past this hurdle with anyone, as much as you’ve wanted to. You’ve let your own fears hold you back. But this time is different. You’re ready for more, ready to give yourself to him. You don’t know what exactly it is that changed, but your body burns with lust for Matt despite how nervous you may be.

You sink back down onto your heels and Matt leans down with you, refusing to break the kiss. His hands glide down the curves of your waist and move to settle on your ass, giving it a light squeeze. You let out a small whimper into his mouth and hear a sigh escape from his lips. You move your shaking hands to the nape of his neck, tangling your fingers into the curly hair at the base and give them a light tug, pulling him off gently.

“C-can we move this to the bed?” You croak out, the words feeling foreign.

“Yeah, um..” he blinks quickly and clears his throat. “Of course we can.”

His mind races with thoughts that he desperately tries to hold back. He wants nothing more than to make a mess of you, to touch you in the places nobody else has. There’s something about knowing he’ll be the first person to corrupt you that makes the hair on the back of his neck stand up and sends a rush of blood below his belt.

You give him a meek smile, trying your best to hide the crimson glow that’s made its way across your face. You grab onto his hand and follow behind him as you walk quietly to his room through the dark hallway. Your heart pulses loudly in your ears with each step you take. You both cross the threshold and his hand immediately reaches for the light switch, but you bring your own free hand over his to stop him.

“Can we leave it off? Maybe.. just turn on a lamp or something?” You ask quietly.

An eager look flashes across his face as he nods, letting go of your hand to go turn his table lamp on, illuminating the room with its subtle glow. He sits on the edge of his bed and you join him, fidgeting with your rings while trying to calm your nerves.

He turns sideways to face you, brushing your hair behind your ear and placing a gentle kiss to your cheekbone. “My pretty girl.” He whispers.

You turn your head towards him and smile as his fingertips caress your face. He looks into your eyes with a questioning look, almost asking without words if you’re sure about what you’re leading him into. You swallow thickly and grip onto the fabric of his shirt, pulling him close before you mesh your lips together again. He tilts his head as he kisses back, your tongues dancing with each other slowly. Your skin grows hot, every fiber of your being consumed with the thought of Matt taking you as his.

You turn your body to face him, your free hand reaching up to grip his jaw, feeling as the muscle clenches and moves as he works his mouth against your own. You feel the warmth of his hands meet your knees, sliding up your thighs and bringing a tantalizing electricity with them. They reach the hem of your dress and toy with it, sliding it up ever so slightly.

He pulls away from the kiss, whispering softly, “Is this okay?”

You nod lightly and he immediately pushes the fabric up your soft legs allowing them to part. He pulls you to straddle his lap, scooting back and positioning the both of you so that his back is against the headboard.

He has to hold back a groan as he looks up at you, your legs slung around both sides of his waist, lighting a primal fire deep inside of him. His jaw hangs slack as he squeezes the plush skin of your thighs, working his way up to your exposed panty line. He hooks his fingers into it and rubs his thumbs against the elastic. You run your nails up and down his arms and his body reacts to your touch, flooding his skin with goosebumps.

“Matt..” You breathe out, biting your lip as he directs his full attention to you. “I want to do this. I need to.”

A hitched breath escapes his lips as he nods eagerly, your doe eyes making his stomach do a flip. “And if you need to stop, I-”

You cut him off there, bringing a finger to his lips. “I know, Matt. I trust you.”

A cheesy grin flashes across his face, his eyes lighting up. It’s soon replaced with an urgency, an overwhelming need. He brushes your hair to your back and slides his fingers beneath the straps of your dress, pulling them down your shoulders slowly. His lips pepper the skin with warm, wet kisses, trailing across your collarbones to give the other shoulder just as much attention.

You lean your head back as your head swims, growing fuzzier by the second. Your mind is saturated with pleasure as his lips inch up your neck, teasing the sensitive skin with featherlight nips and licks. You can’t help but moan as he sucks a mark into the skin right below your ear.

“God, you sound so pretty.” He mumbles against your neck, “I knew you would.”

With every touch you allow him to give to your body he feels his own pulse quicken. His pants feel tighter, his skin suddenly feels hot, and all he wants to do is rip your clothes off. He bites back the temptations of rushing into things too quickly. He wants to make this last, to see every lust drunk look on your face as he shows you a pleasure you’ve never known.

He pulls back slowly and his eyes drift down to focus on what his hands are doing. He slips the neckline of your dress below your breasts and your chest is fully exposed to him, your nipples taut and aching in the chill of the air. His cock twitches at the sight of your plump round skin almost begging to be touched. He grabs ahold of each one with his hands, cupping and squeezing at them. He picks them up and lets them drop a few times, eyes locked as he watches them bounce inches from his face.

A split second later he leans forward and takes your left nipple into his mouth, his warm saliva sending shivers down your spine. You can’t help but to arch your back, this new feeling sending shockwaves through your body. You lace your hands into his hair, holding him against you as he softly sucks on your nipple. He pulls off with a pop and shoots you a smirk, moving to the other side to flick his tongue across it before placing a kiss to it.

“So perfect.” He mutters between kisses as he travels up the valley of your breasts back up to your neck.

You become suddenly aware of the bulge growing in his pants as his hips jolt up, rubbing against your clothed core deliciously. You take in a sharp breath before following suit, grinding your hips slowly along with him and creating a new friction between your bodies. He can’t help but move his hands to your waist, pressing you down and guiding you forward and back against his erection. You both share shaky exhales and moans as you continue like this, your bodies aching to be closer. Your core throbs and builds up an uncomfortable heat just desperate to be filled, and his dick is stiff to the point of discomfort wanting to feel the warmth of your body.

You push yourself from the hold you had on his chest for stability, leaning back to fumble with the buckle of his belt. His hands come to rest atop your own, stopping you in your tracks and shaking his head.

“Not yet baby, I can wait. Wanna make you feel good first.” He whispers with a grin. “Come lay down up here.”

You gulp and do as you’re told, hopping off his lap to replace his spot against the headboard. He grabs your dress and shimmies it down your body, lifting your legs to pull it all the way off and discard it beside the bed. You’re left lying below him, exposed all except your panties. His eyes rake over every inch of your body, and you can’t help but feel self conscious. He takes note as he clocks your facial expression, and his hands immediately start sliding across your skin.

“I can’t believe how perfect you are.” He mumbles with a smile.

“You think so?” You ask, bringing your knees together subconsciously as a way of covering what little bit of dignity you have left.

“Fuck yes I do.” He answers, his hands coming to your knees to spread them back apart.

He lays down and props himself up on his elbows between your thighs, hot air fanning against your skin with every breath he takes. His eyes are dark with hooded lids, piercing into your own as he lowers his head.

He places a soft kiss to the fabric and then kitten licks your clothed pussy, the warmth causing your stomach to tense and your hands to grip onto the sheets. He brings one hand up to rub his fingers across your clit, and even with the layer of cloth separating you from his rough fingertips you feel waves of pleasure flooding through your veins.

He increases the pressure and starts rubbing in a rhythm, eyes locked with yours the entire time. You bite your lip as you move your hips along with him, desperate for more hypnotic friction.

“You let me know what feels good and what doesn’t, okay baby? Wanna make this good for you.” He assures you before he places a few soft kisses to the skin of your inner thighs.

You nod and sink down onto the pillow, allowing yourself to relax and melt into him. He starts slowly pulling your panties down your legs, scooting back a little so he can get them fully off. He lets out a sigh as he parts your thighs once more, spreading your core with his two hands and licking his lips. The primal flame grows, a fever creeping through his veins as he takes in the sight of your pink, dripping heat.

“Look at that,” he places a soft kiss to the mound of skin just above your clit, “so wet already.” He runs his thumb down your folds, collecting your arousal before bringing it to his mouth and sucking it clean. “Tastes so fucking good too.”

He dips his head down and licks a hot stripe up your center, his tongue flat and warm against you. You take in a shaky breath, your back arching off the bed and your thighs squeezing around his head. Matt lets out a deep hum as he holds your legs apart, lapping his tongue across your entrance. The vibration rumbles through your core perfectly, and your body feels so good you can’t help but squeeze at the own skin of your thighs, needing something to channel the overwhelming sensations into.

“M-matt.. it feels so.. oh my god.” You struggle with your words, your brain swimming as he sucks your tender bud lightly.

He feels a deep satisfaction knowing he’s the first to taste you, the first to make you feel so good that you can’t do anything but squirm and grasp at anything you can reach.

“I’m gonna put a finger in, okay baby?” He asks as he lifts up on his elbows. “It might feel weird at first but it shouldn’t hurt. You let me know though, got it?” He says in a serious tone.

You nod and lift your head up to get a better view as he rubs his middle finger up and down your folds, drenching it with your arousal. You see it glistening in the light before he slowly inserts it, his eyes flicking up to your own and back down to his job at hand continuously. The feeling of his slender finger slipping in and brushing against your plush walls makes your core throb, and he doesn’t stop until his knuckle is flush with your folds.

“Alright, it’s all the way in.” He speaks softly.

Slowly and carefully he pulls it all the way back out, a husky groan falling from his lips when he sees that his finger is drenched, covered in your body’s visible need.

“M-matt..” you whine, feeling suddenly empty.

“Hm?” He hums, slowly guiding his finger back into your heat.

Your hips buck involuntarily, the rough pad of his finger brushing a sensitive spot deep inside of you. He smirks and curls his finger into it again, a smug satisfaction creeping up as you clench your stomach and moan lightly.

“You’ve never been able to find that spot yourself, have you baby?” He asks, curling his fingers into the spongy mound over and over.

All you can do is shake your head, hips lifting off the bed as you squirm and pant. He shushes you quietly and brings his free hand to press into the skin of your hip, holding you down into the mattress right where he wants you. He begins pumping his finger in and out, the sensation causing you to whimper and squeeze your eyes shut.

“Shhh, I know. Let me take care of you.” He whispers, his face dipping down and his hot breath fanning over your stomach. “Gonna make you feel so good.”

His lips place a light, lingering kiss to your swollen bud, sending sparks through your abdomen as his finger prods at your walls. He places one more quick kiss to it before he wraps his lips around your clit, using his tongue to swirl around the sensitive flesh. His free hand roams around your body, squeezing at your hips, lightly tracing your ribcage and moving all the way down to knead at the skin of your thigh.

“That’s feels so…” You let out a long drawn out moan as he kitten licks your clit, “oh my god, Matt.”

He hums against you, his ego stroked knowing he’s making you crumble beneath him. He pulls back briefly, his voice strained and deep. “I know, angel. You’re doing so good.”

His praise causes your stomach to roll and a moan threatens to fall into the air, but you hold it back with a harsh bite of your bottom lip.

Matt knows his words have an effect on you. He can feel as the inner workings of your body clench and throb around him when he does something you like, and he needs more.

“Such a good girl,” he coos, looking up at you through his lashes as he adds another finger into your slit, “let’s get you nice and loosened up for me, okay? Let me know if it’s too much.”

You feel his ring finger slip in, stretching your skin and pushing up into your slick heat. He moves them simultaneously, coaxing your sensitive nerves as you writhe around, whimpering and circling your hips.

“O-oh.. Matt..” you breathe out shakily.

His dick twitches when you say his name like that. He brings his mouth back down to your clit, sucking and lapping at it faster than before. His fingers pump in and out in a steady rhythm, working at every angle to bring you closer to the edge.

Your stomach feels so tight it could burst and your brain is foggy, almost drunk off the pleasure. He doesn’t let up, he moans and groans against your core and nearly has his face buried into your pussy. You could almost count each individual strand of stubble as it scratches against your thighs, an addicting pain that you wish you never had to stop feeling.

“M-matt.. I think..” you whine out, lacing your fingers into his curls and tugging, the knot in your stomach threatening to snap.

“Mmm..” he pulls back. “I know, baby. I can tell.”

He dips back down, savoring your taste as he flicks his tongue across your aching clit. You feel the tension in your stomach building as you buck your hips up, but Matt doesn’t push your hip down this time. He follows you up, never letting his tongue leave your pink bud as he works against it.

You finally topple over the edge, your pussy contracting around his fingers tightly as your body floods with dopamine. You hold him against your core as he coaxes your orgasm out, grinding against his mouth and fingers until you’re spent.

He watches as you lie back, your chest heaving with every deep breath you take. A small grin plays at his lips as he watches, knowing it’s the first time a man has made you feel this way. He can’t help but get excited, palming his uncomfortable erection through his jeans while he watches you drink in your post orgasm bliss.

“Was it good?” He croaks, his thumb sweeping over his aching head through the fabric.

“Mmmm,” you hum, eyes shut and your arms sprawled out. Your legs are still open, your glistening pussy directly in his line of sight, still slightly twitching and throbbing, your arousal coating your folds. “So good.” Your voice is laced with pleasure.

He takes in a shaky breath, tightening his veiny hand around his length and bucking his hips into his palm. He can’t help the groan that falls from his lips and causes you to open your eyes, leaning your head up to look at him.

His jaw clenches as he makes eye contact with you, his hips squirming and his hand moving back and forth across his aching cock. “Have you ever sucked a dick before?” His words sound so filthy as they roll of his lustful tongue, but he’s asking out of genuine curiosity.

“I…” you start, a dark pink flush spreading across your already hot cheeks. “No… I haven’t.”

A quiet groan grumbles from his chest, his head falling back as he gives his dick one last squeeze through his pants. He moves his hand up, slowly pulling the end of the belt from his belt loops. “That’s okay, I’ll tell you how.”

You gulp and nod, sitting up to help him with the buckle. Your hand brushes against his hardened dick and it twitches, begging to be freed from the constraint of the layers holding it back. You finally get the belt undone, pulling it from the loops and tossing it aside. Your hands scramble to the button of his jeans, getting it open and the zipper down before pulling them down his thighs. He reaches up and pulls his shirt over his head, his muscles contracting with every move.

He lets out a sigh as you pull his pants completely off, his dick stretching the fabric of his boxers to its limit. There’s a small wet stain where his head lays, his swollen tip oozing precum.

His hand reaches out and grabs yours, sitting it down on top of his still covered length. He presses your hand down and takes in a small gasp of air, jutting his hips up from the sensation. You flutter your eyelashes and look up at him as you wrap your small hand around him, feeling his warmth and thickness.

“Get down on your knees for me, baby.” he whispers, shuffling off the bed to his feet.

You oblige, standing up in front of him and dropping down, your hands resting on his thighs. He strokes your hair lovingly, tucking the loose strands behind your ear and rubbing his thumb across your cheekbone. With his free hand he loops his thumb into the elastic waistband of his underwear and slides it down slowly, inch by inch of his cock becoming more exposed before it slaps against his stomach. He chuckles as your eyes widen, a satisfaction coming through that he can’t hold back.

“M-Matt.. that’s not gonna fit in my mouth.” You say matter of factly, observing the entire length, the curve and the veins that cascade up to his head.

“It’s okay,” he reassures with another stroke of your hair. “You can try. If it doesn’t I’ll show you what to do.”

He grips his base and begins slowly pumping himself, your eyes watching his every move. He brings the head against your lips and rubs it back and forth, coaxing your mouth open. He lets out a small moan as the underside of his tip brushes against your warm tongue, stimulating his sensitive nerves just right. You move your tongue left and right, feeling every dip and groove of his head and coating it in your saliva. You open your mouth wider and wrap your lips around his head, giving a small suck before you pop back off.

“F-fuck..” he groans, moving his hand to grip the roots of your hair on the back of your head. “You’re doing so good already. Open up a little wider, angel.”

You let your jaw fall open, relaxing your tongue and letting it lay flat as he slides his cock deeper into your mouth. You can feel his veins rolling against your tongue as he pushes in slowly, taking his time and being careful to not make you gag. As much as he’d like to make you a drooling mess with his length shoved down your throat, he wants to take care of you and make sure this first time is special.

He stops once he can feel he’s near the back of your throat, and you can feel his muscles tighten as he holds back the urge to thrust. “Now you just suck, move your tongue around, whatever. There’s no real science to it.” He explains gruffly, pulling out just a bit before pushing back into the same spot.

You close your lips around him, sucking and bobbing your head back and forth, his hand gripping tighter on the back of your head. Groans and shaky breaths spill from his lips, his stomach clenching as he bites his tongue, sticking it to the inside of his cheek.

“God baby, so fucking pretty with your lips around my dick.” He coos, wrapping his hand into your hair in a makeshift ponytail.

You feel a little brave, wanting to make him feel better than he is now, and decide to let his head touch the back of your throat. Your throat instinctively clenches, a low gagging sound rumbling through you as your mouth floods with saliva. You look up at him in embarrassment as you pull his member from your lips, a string of spit following as you lean back.

“I’m sorry..” you say meekly, your ears growing hot.

“Hey,” he says in a low, hushed tone, “don’t apologize.” He grips your chin, stroking your bottom lip with his thumb and pulling your mouth back open. He exhales when he slides his length back in. “I think it’s so hot. My pretty girl choking on me. Fuck…” He juts his hips forward, hitting the back of your throat again to elicit the same sound.

His dick twitches at the sound, and your eyes well with tears from the sensation. He pumps himself in and out of your mouth slowly, not going nearly as deep to make sure you don’t have to gag again.

“Wrap your hand around the bottom, yeah.. fuck… just like that.. jerk it a little..” he speaks softly, groaning between his words.

You continue sucking what you can comfortably fit in your mouth, twisting your hand around his base. His breathing picks up and strings of curses fall from his lips.

“Doing so good for me.. fuck. Yeah, like that baby. You look so good sucking me off.”

He continues guiding your head up and down, the sound of his grunts filling up the room as you work him towards his climax. But before he can finish, he pulls your head back by your hair and smiles down at you.

“Get back on the bed.” He says gently with a nod of his head in that direction. He grabs your hands and lifts you to your feet, taking notice of your red knees with a smirk.

You sit down on the bed, your hair fanning out behind you as you lay back onto the pillows. He crawls up your body, placing kisses on your sore knees, up your thighs, up your stomach and through the valley of your breasts until he reaches your puffy lips.

He places a soft peck onto your lips before smashing them together, inhaling deeply as he places his hand softly around your throat. His other arm rests by your head, holding him up so that he hovers above you. Your body starts to almost tremble, both of your most sensitive parts inches away from touching. You reach up and grip his shoulders and he pulls away from the kiss, making direct eye contact.

He opens his mouth to speak. “I just want you to know if you need to stop at any point, let me know. I’d never be upset or disappointed or-”

“Shhh.. I know.” You interrupt him with a giggle, your stomach filled with butterflies already.

He gives you a soft smile and a satisfied hum before he sits back on his knees, his dick twitching as he spreads your thighs and lines himself up at your entrance. Your body feels like it’s burning from the inside out as his skin brushes against yours, every movement making your pulse quicken. He runs his head through your folds, collecting your sticky arousal and coating himself with it before he pushes in.

He lets out a low groan as he feels the resistance of your walls pushing back at him. “You’re so tight.. fuck.” Matt truly doesn’t care if you’re a virgin or not, but the fact that you are, the fact that he’s the first one to taint your innocence drives him crazy to no end.

You let out a small whimper, feeling your entrance stretching around him. It’s not painful, but you can’t exactly say it feels good either. He looks up at you and stops his movements, allowing you some time to adjust to his size.

“All good so far?” He asks, reaching up to squeeze your hip reassuringly.

You only nod, your fingers absentmindedly gripping at the bedsheets. He reaches his hand down and grabs one of yours, bringing it to his lips and placing soft kisses on every knuckle. He pushes in just a bit more, using every ounce of restraint in his body to not shove in to the hilt. His body is flooded with desire, a need to fill you up with his length, to be the first man to feel your plush walls wrapped around him.

“F-fuck..” you whimper quietly, your eyes squeezed shut and your face curled up in discomfort. “It’s so big.. I don’t know if it’ll all fit..” You breathe out as you open your watery eyes to look up at him.

His stomach tightens at your innocent words, he knows it was just an observation but he can’t help but feel so praised and turned on. He lets out a small chuckle and pushes one of your legs up so that your knee rests next to your shoulder.

“It’ll fit, baby. Gotta give it some time.” He whispers, pushing in a little more.

Your walls are slowly loosening up, accommodating to the size of the man above you. The new angle allows him to slip in a little easier so that you’re now taking half of his length.

“Doing so good. Nice and wet for me too.” He coos, reaching his thumb down to brush over your aching clit.

The sensation makes your back arch, your pelvis tilting and ultimately pushing further down onto Matt’s cock, earning a low primal moan from him. With the amount of discipline he’s put himself through tonight, he grips onto your calf, his fingers leaving impressions and his knuckles white.

“T-try not to move.. fuck.. that felt so good.” He croaks, his voice laced with need.

You finally decide you’ve had enough of the waiting, enough time trying to stretch around his thickness. You begin to move your hips, slowly bucking them up and down. His cock slides in and out of your pussy with each hypnotic movement and his eyes widen.

“S-shit..” he breathes, gripping onto the back of your other thigh and pushing it up, leaving you spread completely open.

Your pain dwindles and you start to feel sparks of pleasure. Brisk, rapid moans escape your lips as he moves his hips forward slowly. You almost sound as if you’re in pain, so he stops and starts to ease out of you.

“M-matt.. no, please. Please move.” You beg, reaching up to caress his jaw.

All of his restraint is thrown out the window when he hears you plead so genuinely for him. He slowly pushes his hips all the way forward until his hipbones are flush with the backs of your thighs, your walls swallowing him whole and clenching around him as they accept his length.

“So fucking good. You’re doing perfect.” He praises in a hushed voice, pulling out and pushing all the way back in with ease, his dick coated and wet.

You let out a cry as his tip kisses your g spot and he squeezes your thigh, moving his hips in a rhythm so that he does it over and over again.

“M-Matt..” his name falls off your lips like honey.

“Hm?” He grunts out, his thrusts maintaining a slow rhythm.

“More.. I.. I need more.” You choke out, your body tingling and pulsing with a growing pleasure.

“You sure, baby?” He asks, “you don’t think it’ll be too much?”

“Please.” you spit out a single worded beg, batting your eyes up at him.

He can’t say no to you, the girl he loves yearning for more of him. He picks up his pace and his strokes become harder, his hipbones slapping against you repeatedly. He brings one of his hands to your bouncing tits, gripping one and massaging the skin with his rough fingertips. Moans and whimpers echo off the walls of his bedroom as he goes ever so slightly faster, pulling you further down the bed in an attempt to be as deep as he possibly can into your wet heat.

“Taking it so well, baby. Tell me how you feel.” He groans out, feeling himself falling closer and closer to the edge of climax.

“I… I.. fuck.” You whimper, reaching up to grip onto his biceps, your nails digging into his skin.

“C’mon… tell me.” He prods, leaning down to ghost his lips over your ear. “You like my dick as much as I like feeling you wrapped around it, hm?”

“Y-yes!” You nearly scream as he gives you an extra rough thrust.

His breath hitches and he hums contently, his dick twitching as his seed threatens to spill. He holds it back with everything he has, knowing he wants you to come undone around him before he even thinks about finishing. He leans back up and uses his thumb to rub circles on your clit, the bud pulsing and throbbing beneath his touch. “C’mon baby, let it out.”

Your stomach tenses and releases over and over as you feel your pleasure climbing to a peak. You arch up and give in to the feeling, your walls clenching around Matt’s cock with every wave that crashes and floods your senses. He fucks you steady as he watches you ride out your high, relishing in every moan of his name and flutter of your eyes.

“F-fuck… such a good girl, did so good for me.” He croaks out, his thrusts becoming sloppy and uneven.

With one final rough thrust he pushes in completely to the base, pumping his hot seed deep inside your core. He pulls out and lets his head rest on your clit, jerking himself until the remnants of his release are dripping down your folds.

Your legs give out and fall to either side of him, still shaking and twitching as you catch your breath. He crawls up and settles beside you, wrapping an arm around your shoulder and pulling your head onto his sweaty chest. You can hear his heart thumping and pounding against his sternum as you lay together, naked and vulnerable, your skin sticking together.

Your fingers trail up his stomach and his muscles twitch beneath them as they climb higher. He kisses your hair gently, brushing it out of your face and down your back.

“That was so…” you start, pausing to take a deep breath.

“Yeah, I know. Shh.. just rest a minute.” He whispers, finishing your thought while tracing shapes down your spine.

Your eyes flutter closed and you feel so at peace with him that you drift off lying on his chest, lulled to sleep by the sound of his steady breathing and the warmth of his skin.

When your eyes flutter open you hear the sound of his bathtub filling with water and low music playing on his speaker, but see no sign of Matt. You sit up and look around, stretching your arms above your head. His bedroom door creaks open and he walks in quietly holding two towels, a warm smile spread across his face when he sees you’ve woken up.

“Hi, sleepy girl. Just got these out of the dryer, let’s get you cleaned up.”

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[lam-ila]

Let's Go to Therapy || Carlos Sainz

Summary: You and Carlos decide to go to therapy to make your relationship work.

Continue Reading: part one, part two, part three

Word Count: 1,523

Warnings: therapy (both individual and couples), a few swears

please let me know if you find any more that i should add

F1 Masterlist

a/n: i really thought this part would be the last one but i got carried away and wrote a lot haha. part four will be coming very soon! (with more parts on the way too!)

this is gender neutral. hope you enjoy this! feedback is appreciated

LIKES ARE GREAT, REBLOGS ARE BETTER ♡

You sat across from Carlos on his couch as you stared at each other, trying to figure out where to go with the obvious chemistry between the two of you. You had both agreed to meet at Carlos’ place to avoid being spotted in public under the guise of keeping your conversation straight to the point; no funny business or ulterior motives.

“Maybe…” Carlos’ voice faltered before he was able to finish his sentence, “maybe we go to therapy together.”

“Yeah?” you asked, tilting your head in shock at his suggestion.

“Yeah. We both want to make this work. So let’s put in the work and go to therapy. Let’s figure out what went wrong, so we don’t do that again.”

“Yeah,” you repeated, this time as a statement and not as a question, "let’s go to therapy.”

—————

Your therapist, Heather, explained while scheduling the sessions that some sessions would include both you and Carlos while others would be her meeting the two of you individually. The first sessions were individual ones, so that Heather could get a clear story from both of you before the first joint session.

"I've got lots of seats." Heather pointed out while motioning to the seats in her office. "Feel free to lay down, lean back, sit up straight, whatever you're most comfortable with."

Your eyes wandered from seat to seat, unsure of which one to choose. You were already nervous and now you were presented with too many options. You stepped over to a quaint, wooden rocking chair with cushions in the areas the user's body would touch. Sitting down in the chair, you planted your feet on the ground to avoid the chair from rocking too much.

You watched Heather open a filing cabinet next to her desk and pull out a notebook from a section you assumed to be labeled with your name. She then grabbed a pen from her desk and sat down in the chair in front of you. Her legs were crossed, allowing her to place her notebook on the higher leg, and she casually leaned back in her chair.

"Do I start from the beginning? Or..." you asked, your voice trailing off at the end.

"Start from wherever you'd like." Heather looked at you with a gentle and comforting smile.

"Okay." You looked up towards the ceiling, trying to figure out how to start telling your story with Carlos. "I met Carlos almost two years ago. One of my friends is friends with his teammate's girlfriend, so we ended up meeting on a night out." You nervously played with your hands, squeezing your fingers to try to distract yourself from the ever growing tightening in your chest.

Heather glanced down at your hands then grabbed a basket full of fidget toys that rested atop her coffee table.

"Do you want something to fidget with? I tend to use them too while in a session with my clients."

"Uh," you looked through the basket, again presented with too many options, "maybe later. Thank you though."

"They're right here if you ever need them." She placed the basket back on the table before giving her full attention back to you.

"Carlos and I hit it off the night we met. Nothing romantic happened at the time, we just clicked as friends. So we exchanged numbers and promised to hangout some time soon." You smiled to yourself as you remembered that night. You'd do anything to go back in time and experience the bliss of getting to know Carlos again. "Those first few months of knowing him were so nice. We called whenever he was away for races and he made sure to spend time with me whenever he had off weeks. Four months into knowing him, I realized I started liking him more than a friend would."

"What made you realize that?" Heather asked while writing down what you said.

"I don't know, I don't really remember. It was just that feeling again, you know, that 'oh shit I think I like him' feeling if that makes any sense."

"It does," she reaffirmed before writing in her notebook again.

"Then two months later, Carlos and I were hanging out at my place, as per usual, except there was a bit more tension, I guess?"

"Romantic tension?" You nodded in agreement.

"I told him how I felt and he said he felt the same, so we kissed and, yeah." You stayed quiet for a minute or so, letting Heather finish writing what she needed to before you continued. "About a month went by, then we stopped talking. Then another month, then we started talking as if nothing happened. It was like a light switch suddenly turning on and off. It hurt like crazy. I was putting in so much effort only to get ghosted over and over again."

"Were you going to his races?"

"Yeah, I was. I spent a lot of my vacation days going to his races. The last one I went to was the Dutch Grand Prix. I got mad at him for everything our relationship was going through and I yelled at him and walked out. He booked me a flight home and we stopped talking to each other."

"Until now," Heather added.

"Until now," you chuckled. "I almost reached out to him after his crash at the Azerbaijan Grand Prix, but I didn't, only for him to reach out to me instead. We agreed we needed to fix things if we wanted to continue being in each others' lives, so that's why we're here." You turned your head to the small clock sitting on a side table, noticing that an hour had gone by. "We're out of time, aren't we?"

"We are, but I'll see you soon with Carlos."

—————

"It's nice to see you both again," Heather greeted as you and Carlos walked into her office. "Glad to be seeing the two of you together."

You nodded and smiled in acknowledgement, not really sure how to respond. Nice to see you again too? But you wouldn't be seeing her if you didn't have problems, so not nice to see you?

"Good to see you again," Carlos responded for the two of you.

"Sit wherever you'd like, make yourselves comfortable. I just need to grab my things and then I'll join you."

You returned to your rocking chair, resuming the position you had during your first session with your feet planted on the ground. Carlos took a seat on the couch to your left, sitting in the central spot of it. You found yourself wondering if he sat there during his first session with Heather. Did he lay down or sit up? How did he explain his relationship with you? Was he as nervous as you?

You were pulled out of your thoughts as you saw Heather out of the corner of your eye take her seat in front of you. She crossed her legs, then placed her notebook on top of her leg, just as she did during your first session.

"I know you've both already explained your story to me," Heather began, "but I'd like you to explain to me one more time, this time, together."

Carlos and you turned your heads to look at each other; you glanced at one of his legs repeatedly bouncing up and down, and he glanced at your hands fidgeting with each other. You both breathed a sigh of relief, glad that the other person was seemingly just as nervous and them. Your gaze met back with Carlos' and he gave you a slight nod, signalling you to be the one to start.

You retold your story, making sure to allow Carlos to also retell the story in places he wanted to add his side to. After the story was retold, you found yourself relaxing more into the rocking chair, not as stiff and nervous as you were during your first session and the beginning of this session. You noticed had stopped bouncing his leg too.

“We didn’t talk to each other for weeks at a time,” Carlos said, his words gaining your attention.

“You hurt me,” you stated, looking directly at Carlos. “I meant every word I said in Zandvoort and I still do.”

“I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

“Then why did you?” You pointedly stared at him, waiting for an answer.

“I was scared,” Carlos quietly admitted. “I was scared of messing things up, so I thought that it would be best to keep things unofficial, but that only ended in messing things up. I know the cliché answer is to say that I’ve never felt so strongly about someone, but that truly is what happened. If I could go back in time and fix things, I would. But I can’t, so that’s why I’m here.”

You looked back at Heather, unsure of how to respond to Carlos.

“How do you feel after hearing Carlos say that?” Heather gently asked you.

“Like I can forgive him a little bit,” you answered, fixing your gaze on Carlos as he looked ahead with a slight smile present on his lips.

—————

F1 Taglist: @2manytabsopen @matthewkniesys @fallinallincurls @c-losur3 @sof1shticated

join my taglist here!

[piftamere]

four - he’ll live (wc : 1.7k)

they’re sitting around a small table in a crowded bar. the music is loud and the awkwardness is palpable, it’s clear neither of them expected to be set up with the other.

“so, what do you do?” atsumu asked her to ease the tension in the air. she doesn’t want to be here and she’s not hiding it. atsumu wonders if it’s because of the other night, is she embarrassed? he decides to avoid the subject, just in case. he knows that he should also avoid the “shion” subject, and he will gladly do so. next to them, kageyama is listening intently to one of hinata’s rants, like they’re in their own world.

“i’m in arts, in the same uni as kageyama.” she replies, matter-of-factly, pointing to her friend sitting by her side.

“art? that’s dope.” he wants to face palm. ‘dope’?? he coughs a couple of times, and quickly continues before she can, “what kind of art?”

“um i paint mostly.” she nods. though it’s not like she’s really been painting lately.

he’s about to say something, probably embarrass himself further, but the waiter interrupts their riveting conversation. she orders first, a long island iced tea. the only way she can make it through tonight without physically assaulting atsumu. the others order lighter cocktails. easy for them, they don’t have to pretend to enjoy miya atsumu’s company.

kageyama gives her a side eye only she catches as the waiter leaves, she ignores it. hinata starts talking excitedly about an upcoming thing, a match she assumes. she nods along but she’s not really listening. he seems happy though, kageyama too. their date would most likely go just as smooth if atsumu and her weren’t there.

from time to time her phone buzzes on the table, and she sees atsumu steal glances at her from the corner of her eye. she pretends not to notice. she turns her phone off.

when their drinks arrive, she wraps her lips around the straw and practically inhales half of it.

hinata notices the awkward silence hanging between atsumu and yn, and like the good friend he is, or at least tries to be, he decides to step in. atsumu is just a little tense, so talking about something he loves should get him to loosen up, right?

“did you know tsumu’s a really good setter? it’s so nice playing with him!” hinata praises eagerly, oblivious to the way kageyama frowns at his words.

atsumu perks up immediately, puffing out his chest, “yea i’ve been nominated for best setter a few times. it’s actually-” he says, slipping into a monologue.

yn stares at her glass, not registering a word he’s saying.

she tried, for a solid 10 seconds, to be interested in whatever volleyball-related thing he was yapping about, but she couldn’t be bothered. her eyes feel heavy and she stifles a yawn. hinata notices and, in a panic, discretely kicks him in the shin under the table.

“ow- what the hell?” atsumu yelps, wincing and rubbing his leg.

“oops! i thought i saw a bug.” hinata blurts out, scratching the back of his neck.

she barely holds back from rolling her eyes and excuses herself to go to the bathroom, “i’ll be right back.”

as she’s touching up her make-up, an idea crosses her mind, if she’s going to be stuck here she’s at least going to make it worth her while.

atsumu has finished his drink by the time she comes back. he looks more relaxed now, less rigid than before. as she sits down, she picks up the menu, her eyes going over the options. since kageyama is paying, she’s not checking the prices.

“you hungry?” she asks, glancing at him over the menu.

“starvin’. could eat a cow.” he admits, leaning in, his voice a little more casual.

tilting the menu toward him, her finger tracing the list until it stops on one dish, “wanna share this?”

“sounds good.” with a quick nod to the waiter, they place their order.

atsumu’s gaze is wandering more as the night progresses and he finds himself staring at her. he’s not being very discreet either.

she turns her gaze towards him, catching him staring. he looks a little startled. making the corners of her lips tug slightly upwards.

he can feel the intensity of her gaze as she speaks. she leans forward, placing her elbows on the table, “how long have you been single for?”

she wasn’t really interested in the answer, she simply wanted to watch him squirm, a small knowing smile spread across her lips.

he blinks, taken aback by her question, “hum… a few months i guess.”

“is that by choice?” she continues, unfazed by how personal this conversation is getting.

he chuckles awkwardly, “i don’t have the time for anything serious.”

“anything serious?” she repeats, her tone suggesting she doesn’t believe him, “so you’re the type to sleep with a girl for a few weeks then… ‘ditch’ her?”, she leans back, crossing her arms, waiting for him to continue.

she’s intense, in control. though there’s no judgment in her voice, at least not right now, like she’s simply stating a fact. she can tell by the look on his face that he has no idea what she’s referring to. for better or for worse, she isn’t sure yet.

“i mean…i’ve been focused on volleyball this year.”

“hm, okay.” she mutters, clearly unsatisfied with his answer. her nails drum on the glass as she finishes her drink. she releases the straw with a quiet ‘pop’, setting down the glass with a little more force than intended.

soon after, atsumu gets up to do god knows what, she didn’t bother listening. the second he turns around she rolls her eyes, god does he have a talent to piss her off.

“oh by the way,” she starts, turning to hinata, her voice sounding sincere for the first time tonight, “thanks for rescuing me and letting me stay in your room the other night.”

“oh no problem! i’m glad you were safe but it’s atsumu you should thank.” he smiles, earnest.

her brows furrow, “what do you mean?”

“he got the guy off you, you stayed in his room and he slept on the couch. you don’t remember?”

“no i guess not.” she pauses, registering what hinata just told her. when atsumu comes back she avoids his gaze. she doesn’t like that he saw her like that, vulnerable, and she hates that she didn’t know. she feels like she owes him now. it’s not a nice feeling.

quickly, she straightens up, to not let her discomfort show. he probably only helped her because hinata told him to, she owes him nothing.

“that’s a cool painting.” atsumu says, pointing to some abstract art on the wall next to their table, interrupting her thoughts.

“hm?” she glances over at it, her head tilted in mild curiosity. “what do you like about it?” she asks, voice laced with skepticism, suspecting he ran out of things to say and pointed to the thing closest to him. he pretends to ponder for a moment, squinting slightly as if he’s deeply studying the colors and shapes with, she assumes, his very little knowledge of art.

“the colors are nice.” he finally says, sounding casual.

she can’t help but chuckle at his simplicity, a small laugh escaping her lips before she can stop it. “they sure are.” she replies, nodding with a light smirk as she bites the inside of her cheeks to hold back a bigger smile. there’s a hint of condescension in her tone, whether she’s being cruel or playful who knows.

atsumu might not know art, but he’s not dumb. he raises his eyebrow slightly in challenge, “what, not to your taste?”

she crosses her arms and leans forward, elbows resting on the table. with a hint of teasing in her eyes, but also a faint air of superiority, she says, “it’s fine,” she shrugs, “i mean… abstract art is all about interpretation. and i guess ‘the colors are nice.’ is one way to look at it.”

he tilts his head, amused, “yea?”, he leans in a bit, holding her gaze, “and what’s your way of looking at it? enlighten me.”

she’s a little caught off guard by his perseverance, but she doesn’t show it. she tucks a strand of her hair behind her ear. “well,” she starts, her voice is calm, confident, “it’s not just the colors. it’s the emotions and meaning behind them. the shapes, the textures, they create movement, they tell a story without clearly stating it. it’s not what you see, it’s what it makes you feel.”

he leans back in his chair, humming thoughtfully. “so… it’s like volleyball. i see plays unfolding but all you see is guys running around?”

she stays silent for longer than she means to. she would never admit it out loud, but his analogy kind of makes sense. instead, she lets out a sigh and shakes her head, “i guess you could say that.”

noticing the tension between them has seemingly disappeared, hinata turns towards atsumu, whispering in his ear, “ask her to dance.” he looks up at him with big puppy dog eyes.

“you two wanna be alone?” atsumu’s smirking, glad shoyo’s night is going well.

“yes please…” he’s pouting. atsumu sighs and turns towards her, “wanna dance?”

she starts frowning but before she can speak, kageyama nudges her with his elbow, “she will.” she stares at her friend wide-eyed, silently cursing him, as she stands up. she got the message. “come on.”

his moves are a little awkward, he looks tense. she rolls her eyes as she puts her hands on his shoulders, taking notice of how muscular he is. she takes the lead and he obliges, watching intently as her hips sway to the music, and trying not to step on her feet.

she guides his hands to her waist, his grip tightens on the fabric of her dress. she can feel the warmth of his skin, their bodies melt together and she forgets her dislike towards him for a song. turns out it’s much easier for her to tolerate him when his mouth is shut.

over atsumu’s shoulder, she sees hinata leaning in to kiss kageyama, and she can’t help but smile sincerely for the first time tonight. seeing this, atsumu’s heart skip a beat, and the world around them disappears.

fun facts

atsumu was annoying because he felt intimidated

kags was too much on a cloud to really pay attention to the gc

yn doesn’t care that atsumu could get hurt

yn is mastering the art of changing the subject

atsumu is easily swayed, a pretty girl playing hard to get and he's smitten

atsumu thinks it's fate that yn and him were set up on a date after he "rescued" her

author's note

four annoying ppl go on a date

kagehina 4ever <3

writing parts of the dialogue made me want to bang my head in a wall, they're so annoying 😭😭

i have so much planned for the rest of the story aaaah i'm excited ^^

play dumb! - next

taglist : open!

@alpha-mommy69 @bakugouswh0r3 @giocriedpower @itsdragonius @haechansbbg @wondipity @iaminyourfloors @na0koz @from-mae @eusaevi @kr1nqu @writing-for-the-hell-of-it @thechaosoflonging @littlemiyastars @seikamuzu @nymphsdomain

if you're name is crossed out i couldn't tag you, if it's not fixed in a week i'll remove you sorry :(

[enmstorytime]

The Amusement Park Chapter 3

My husband and I weaved through the crowded amusement park, my hand in his, my eyes on the ground, as he guided us. I could not afford to look up. The sun shine and breeze on my bare torso and the memory of the hot ginger dilf had made me too horny to handle seeing anyone else in the park. My mind kept playing through different possibilities, but as long as I didn't look at a specific man and wish his clothes away, the magic wouldn't happen.

I thought of the Chris Evans looking security guard my husband had told me about, and I imagined melting Chris Evan clothes away like that scene in Fantastic Four, only there would be no coat to hold around his crotch.

I thought about catching the ginger dilf before the security guard. Maybe in another world we'd sneak him to a bathroom where my husband and I could hide him in a stall, and promise to buy him clothes in exchange for letting us suck him off.

Without having that fantasy of getting to touch the dilf, I wondered where he was in reality. Had the security guard led him out of the park? Had he been banned? Or had security taken pity on him? Had his wife had to fork over too much money to buy him mismatched clothing that he could wear around the park for the rest of the day. I couldn't help but resent the universe a little. In a perfect world, that dilf would be allowed (forced is a better word here) to walk around the park for the rest of the day without his clothes. HIs wife would have to roll her eyes and get used to the world staring down what she probably assumed was hers and only hers to see. And he would have to wander around the park, his pale hairy skin practically glowing in the sunlight. How much sunscreen would he have to use? Would I have the balls to offer to help him get his back?

"I have an idea," my husband whispered in my ear. "What if I tell you when to look up?"

He pulled me into a line for one of the roller coasters. I imagined a man directly in front of us for the whole time we stood in line standing patiently in front of us, butt naked because I melted his clothing. I imagined us chatting with him, as we waited for the ride, his penis dangling in front of us, a shy hand rubbing the back of his neck, with a slight blush on his cheeks. At first, he'd cover his cock, but my husband and I would reassure him we'd both seen plenty of penises before and his was beautiful. But I knew that wouldn't work. In my twelve years of having this gift, I'd never met a man who remailed calm after his clothes vanished from his body.

I imagined the conversation that could put a man at ease: Hey man, I don't want you to be surprised, but I think you're incredibly sexy. It's my birthday, and for whatever reason, the universe has given me the power to dissolve other men's clothes. I'd love to dissolve every single part of your clothing off of your sexy body. You shouldn't have to hide all that beauty. Who would give me the opportunity to say all of that? And even if I said all of that, who would believe me?

The line took twenty minutes as my husband held my hand leading me through the line, while my mind played through the scenario of meeting a man who would be flattered by my interest, and willing to just stand around so I could soak up all the beauty of his naked flesh.

An attendant led me and my husband to the gates to board the ride. There were two men in front of us (I could tell by the shoes and the hairy calves, before I quickly bounced my eyes away from them to a spot of empty ground). The gates opened, and my husband pulled me forward as the two men stepped through the gates to board the two-seater ride.

"Now," my husband whispered.

My gut clenched. I didn't know which one of the two that my husband meant, and as I looked up, I took them both in, realizing we had spent the entire line standing behind another gay couple. They were what we would call, "boyfriend twins." Two twinks, with the haircut fade, lean, lanky bodies, clean shaven faces. Hairless arms and legs.

This was going to cost me, but their lap bar was down, the ride music had started, they'd be gone in seconds.

And they'd ride the entire ride naked.

Both of them.

I only saw a flash of their bare skin as they squealed about their suddenly naked state of being. The ride launched them away. I imagined their cocks bouncing against their thighs and against the lap bar, as they flew up the first hill, then down, through a few barrel rolls, a loop, more ups and downs. They screamed the whole way.

My husband laughed beside me, but I wasn't laughing. My shoes, socks, and shorts had all vanished. I was standing in my underwear. Thankfully, all of my underwear (the boxer shorts over briefs over a jockstrap) had stayed, and I wasn't mooning anyone behind us.

There was commotion on the platform around us. The attendants had realized that two of their passengers had had their clothing melted off of them. So had everyone waiting to board the ride. Their clothes had been present one second, gone the next. Now we were all staring waiting for the naked men to return.

And once they returned, it was a matter of time before people realized I was very close to joining them in their nudity. If I wasn't careful, I would be getting a taste of my own medicine very soon.

[f4iry-bell]

THE PROPHECY | 1

pairing: grayson hawthorne x f!reader

summary: AU where grayson is an aristocrat and reader is from a working class. they're in a secret relationship together but grayson isnt 100% in.

warning: social class difference. ANGSTY ending.

tagging: @unnoodles @nqds @alwaysthefangirl @clarissaweasley-10 @benny1989fredd @imaseabear @never-enough-novels @elysianwayy77 @whatsamongus @sheisntyou

word count: 1.1k

a/n: ik in 1800s the entailment must go to the oldest son but it's diff here ok??? any son of the man's choice will become the new lord!!!!

masterlist

Attending balls is a part of Grayson Hawthorne’s social life. To show himself to the society and show off his wealth, to show that one day everything his grandfather owned will be his and to show that he is perfect. Couple of ladies have already asked sweet talk to him while fanning their fans trying to give him the obvious sign but his mind keeps wandering to one person who has occupied his mind for the past month.

He excused himself from the pretentious and pompous crowd and snuck to the servant’s quarters. He has done this so many times that it has become an easy thing for him to do. He thought of knocking on the door but decided to surprise her by just opening the door and going in.

She was on her bed sitting wearing an off white nightgown that had a couple stitches on it. Her hair was braided, she looked like she was about to fall asleep.

“Sleeping so soon?” Grayson asked as he stepped in making her gasp.

“You scared me.” Grayson smiled when he heard her say as he walked to the bed and sat next to her. “Yes. I have done my part of cooking for tonight's ball. So I thought I'd sleep early.”

“Are you going to? Sleep?” He asked as his head lowered to her neck, his breath causing shivers down her spine and her mind lost it when he placed a gentle kiss.

This has been going on for months since he tasted her cooking with his grandfather. His grandfather wanted to see the young lady who made the food. When she was at Hawthorne Estate, she cooked a meal for his grandfather and his four grandsons. When she was about to leave the Estate, Grayson stopped her to give her the small silver ring that she possessed which slipped her fingers while she was serving the food.

“Thank you.” She sounded so grateful, Grayson assumed it was more than just silver for her.

“Does it mean something to you? Your wedding ring?” He asked hoping the second part of his question’s answer would be negative.

“It does. It was my mother’s. I don't wear it often, today felt special so I wore it. I would have been devastated if it wasn't for you.” She smiled which made his heart skip two or three beats.

“You're welcome.”

Grayson saw her again when he arrived at a ball earlier than expected (a prank pulled by Jameson). He was looking around and observing the working class when his eyes caught her. She was arranging the plates on the table, he walked towards her and noticed that she's wearing the ring again.

“Another special day?” He asked, pointing at the ring.

She blushed at his presence and nodded. “I just felt today was different.”

Grayson was mindful of the eyes that were watching them. So he excused himself from her to sit alone. He can't have words of whisper roaming around about him and her. No, there could never be him and her.

But they kept meeting each other during balls because she's hired to cook there. He finds himself going to the balls early just to have a moment with her alone, he was getting over with people (servants) watching them. As long as his family or from don't see him it's good.

Right now, they were laying on her small uncomfortable bed very comfortably, she was laying on top of Grayson’s shirtless body with herself naked under the thin blanket as he rubbed her back gently, at first it started out as a physical pleasure for both of them but Grayson can't stop his feelings as he got to know her more and more.

“Don’t fall asleep. You have to go back to the ball soon.” She reminded him.

“I don't want to.” He kissed her head.

“You have to.”

“I just want to be with you, you know? Dance with you, hold your hand in front of everyone.”

“I wish for that too. But I must say I'm a terrible dancer.”

“I'll be the judge.”

She chuckled.

“Are you working for the masquerade ball?” He asked her with an idea in his mind.

“Yes.”

“Well, will you be able to finish your job quickly and sneak onto the dance floor?” He asked with a cheeky smile.

She chuckled. “I can. But I won't.”

“Why not?”

“That's not where I belong.”

“I'll be there, and you belong whereever I am.”

She was quiet for a moment. “I don't have proper attire or a mask.”

“I'll send you, just say you'll sneak into the dance floor, please?” He started to kiss her face all over making her giggle.

“Okay, okay!!”

_

During the masquerade ball Grayson was eagerly waiting for his love to come to the dance floor so he could finally make his dream come true; to dance with her. His eyes were wandering around to find her but was interrupted by a figure behind him. He turned and immediately recognised her and the dress that he gave her. Her face was covered with a mask but he can tell how beautiful she is right now.

“May I have this dance?” He asked her with a smile, giving his hand to her which she took immediately.

They danced for two songs, like she mentioned she was indeed a terrible dancer that she almost fell, thanks to Grayson who saved her from the embarrassment but her mask fell down. She bent down to pick it up and Grayson panicked, people can't see her here. He was praying that she'd wear it quickly back but before she could some of the other upper class ladies noticed her and started whispering. Once she realised people were looking at them and whispering about them she froze.

The hostess marched towards her. “What are you doing here?” She spoke through her teeth.

A lot of loud whispers fell in her ears.

“Isn't she the cook?”

“How did she get the dress?”

“Probably stole it.”

“I-” She was out of words as the hostess three knives at her with her eyes.

“You think you can just sneak into a ball and seduce a wealthy man? Mr. Hawthorne, I assume you weren't aware that this girl was not a part of our social class, I'm deeply sorry that this happened.”

She wasn't going to cry until Grayson spoke after a second. “It is alright. And yes, I wasn't aware of it.”

She wasn't expecting him to say that, she could take the judging eyes and whispers but Grayson standing there pretending to not know her, and embarrass her along with those people? She couldn't take that.

The tears started to come out without realisation.

“Out, you're making an unnecessary scene here, girl. You do not belong here.”

part 2

[hannahssimblr]

I wander through the food stalls in the late afternoon once I’ve inevitably lost the others, and join a long queue for food. Chips. This seems to be ninety percent of my diet these days. Chips and the kinds of sweets from the corner shop that burn the coating off my tongue. I pay for them and some sad, limp looking hotdog and wolf them down before hopping into the queue for the bar. I get three beers, all with the lids confiscated. Necking them all is the only way to avoid the inconvenience of carrying them upright for several hours, and while I do it, I wander through the festival in a relatively aimless search of a familiar face. 

The festival is in a field, or several, somewhere. I really have no sense of where I am according to a map. By the edge of the campsite, a path meanders into a small wood decorated with ribbons and hanging lamps in the foliage overhead. Acoustic melodies drift down the winding path as I pass couples in hammocks and groups of friends seated in the shade among the wildflowers. 

There is a smaller stage here, wooden, with a tarp hung overhead, housing musicians who play a lazy tune to a crowd on the picnic blankets and cushions scattered across the grass. A group of people in weird clothing dance in a circle, doing the type of moves people only seem to do when they’re familiar with the bong. Swaying, arms loose and hair, (because they all have long hair,) swishing across their backs. I seat myself on the grass in the dappled shade of an oak tree to finish my last beer, watching them as I let the alcohol slowly take over my body with that familiar, hazy weight. 

Eventually, one dancer sees me. Our eyes meet across the clearing and I feel embarrassed for looking at all. She smiles this slow, tranquil smile and begins a slow dance in my direction. 

“Fuck sake.” I think. “Why was I looking? Now I’m going to have to speak to this weird hippie-”

“Are you joining us, or are you just having a look?” She has a country accent I don’t recognise, but since I’m ignorant of all that exists outside of Dublin city, this much is not surprising. 

“I’m just, uh, I’m just looking, I suppose.”

“You seem a wee bit glum.”

“Right well, I’m fine, so.”

“I assumed you were looking over at us because you felt like a dance, but were feeling shy.”

I hack out a laugh. “What? No. No, I don’t dance like that.”

“‘Like that’? Like what?”

I peer over to the others behind her, one of which appears to believe he’s floating through time and space. “I’m not even nearly stoned enough, to be honest.”

“Ah, well, easy fix there. You could be stoned.” She sticks her hand into the pocket of her big patchwork skirt and offers me a rolled joint, but I shake my head and push it away. “Look, thanks, but I don’t smoke.”

“Do you do anything else?” she rummages through another pocket. 

“Not right now.”

“What’s wrong with now?”

“It’s about four in the afternoon.”

“It’s a festival. We don’t currently exist under the constraints of society. You don’t have to wait until it’s dark to do pills here, or whatever it is you think. You can be a free man, anybody you want to be.”

I shake my head. “You’d only be wasting them on a stranger. Don’t.”

She plonks next to me in the grass. The smell from her clothes is like the health food shop in town, where Jen buys those enormous bags of sesame sticks to munch with deliberate obnoxiousness in the middle of religion class.

She says, “You seem forlorn. I have this sense that you ought to be happier.”

I regard her for a moment, her red curls wild, the sun catching a halo of frizz around a circular face. “Look, if you’re coming over here for some other reason, like, you know… if this is about you wanting to-”

“I don’t fancy you, or anything like that.” She says, then, after I pause, she adds, “sorry to shock you, but I’m not interested.”

“What do you mean?”

“Are you offended?”

I hesitate. “No.” 

“You’re hardly making an assumption because I’m a girl doing something nice for you, are you? This doesn’t mean I want something more from you. You get that, right?”

I shrug. 

“Because that’s what boys do. They’re only nice to girls they think are hot.”

“Speaking from experience?”

She sighs, a great, long sigh of something like satisfaction with herself for having figured me out. “See, you would have been quite mean to me in school, wouldn’t you?”

I survey her for a few moments, then decide on cautious honesty. “Probably.”

“I’m healing at the moment. I’m seeking empathy for the kinds of people who I feel resentment towards. I thought I’d come over and offer you, and by extension every sporty, slightly ignorant boy from my secondary school…” She pulls a small baggie out of that skirt pocket and her face lights up with surprised delight, “ketamine! See it as a peace offering.” 

I ignore it until she puts it away. 

“You actually remind me of my friend.” I tell her.

“Interesting.” 

“She’s got the same hair, whenever she doesn’t straighten it, and stuff, it’s kind of curly like yours.”

“Ah, and is she also a massive babe?”

I pause.

“God. I was joking. You can say that she’s pretty without slipping up and complimenting me, too. Don’t worry, I won't get the wrong idea.”

“Yeah, Alison’s pretty. She doesn’t really, um, wear the clothes you wear, or anything, there’s just something about your hair, I suppose, and parts of your face that remind me of her.”

“Is Alison here today?”

“No, she’s in Dublin. I… yeah.”

The girl grins and bites her lip impishly. “So this friend, is she just a friend, or do you love her or something?”

I’m rendered momentarily speechless by the strangeness of this conversation. Who is this person, this Alison imposter? I shake my head. “No, it wasn’t like that with us. She’s a friend.”

“But you want more.” She prompts, and I furrow my brow. “You’re fairly nosy. Did you know that?”

“You’ve just started telling me this. I’m only listening to you.”

“Fair enough. I don’t know, anyway, maybe I wanted more at a certain time, but I’m just kind of like that with a lot of girls, like, I just get, like, feelings about them. It’s the main thing that’s wrong with me at the moment.”

“Explain that to me some more. Do they not feel it back, or?”

“Well, that’s not the issue, usually.”

“Ah,” she says, “You’ve got other, deep dark, brooding things going on, then.”

I lay my empty beer bottle on the grass. It tips over and rolls down the little incline where we sit, out of reach. I leave it there. “I suppose.”

Someone in the band has whipped out a sitar, sending psychedelic sounds over the crowd, and I sort of feel like my body is ascending to another realm, transported right back to that time Jen and I did mushrooms in a carpark and all the vehicles started looking like big weird bugs. It's dreamlike, transcendent, like I’m not real, and nothing I say holds any weight. I’m just a soul in the woods with a ginger girl in fairy clothes offering me bags of pills. 

“So, are you sad about Alison?” She says. 

“That’s part of it.”

“And the other parts, are they related to women, too?”

“Everything’s related to women a bit, isn’t it?”

“I’m very curious about what’s wrong with you.”

I let out a short, self-conscious laugh and pluck a blade of grass from the ground. 

“You don’t have to tell me. I just wonder what has you sad and alone in absolutely glorious weather, on the first day of a festival.”

“That’s why you came over, is it?”

“Yeah, in part. I’m saving you the same way I’d save a baby bird chucked out of its nest.”

“You look like you’d do that,” I say derisively, “and you'd disrupt the entire hangout so you could call the SPCA.”

She doesn’t flinch. “Yeah, ‘cause I would.”

“Okay, well, you could be working on me for a while. I think there’s everything wrong with me currently, so.”

“Well, I’m high as fuck, and I’m not going anywhere.”

“Right.” I concentrate intently on the grass in my hand, folding it, knotting it, then breaking it apart, centimetre by centimetre. The girl, Not Alison. Weed Alison, sits there patiently as I repeat this process, plucking grass, fiddling with it, breaking it, flicking the bits away.

There’s a chance, I realise, I am becoming a weird man. A man who does things like this, who sits with a person he has never met before, and begins telling her private things about himself. Next thing I know, I’ll be fifty-eight years old and doing this to college girls on the bus as they try their best to ignore me and look out the window as I miss their every signal. The outlook isn't great.

This girl is asking questions because she is overly interested in other people’s lives and sees me as something amusing to be played with. Intellectually, I know this, yet there is a part of me that believes she has genuine concern for me and my wellbeing, like I really am some rejected baby bird. I experience a wave of momentary anger at her for confusing me until it becomes suddenly clear that I am angry at myself for the things that I feel. 

Still, the truth, having been given permission to emerge, rises in my stomach like bile.

I’m horrified to feel emotion swelling behind my face, and wait a long time to speak, in case my voice cracks and humiliates me. “I think I’m in love with someone.” 

“Oh, right,” she says, like this piece of information is not as astounding as I assumed it would be. “Someone other than your Alison friend.”

“Yeah, someone else.”

“Another she? Or a he, this time?”

I huff out a laugh. “A she.”

“Have you mentioned it to her?”

“God, no.”

“Do you plan to?”

“It’s pretty obvious to me that she’s better off not knowing.”

Her face lights up. “Ah, because she’s together with somebody else. Your friend, right? Your best friend.”

“Why are you making this into a soap opera? She’s not with anyone else... I don't think. It’s just, logistically. It’s not right.”

“So you’re kind of… not following your heart.”

“Fucked if I know what I’m doing, to be honest.” 

“Well,” she says, leaning thoughtfully onto her elbows, “What would happen if you told her about what you’re feeling?”

I glare at her in outrage.

She blinks. “Well, don’t you think she might like to know?”

“No, it’d be the worst thing possible. I’ll ruin her.”

“Maybe it’d be worse if you didn’t tell her.”

I have to stare at her for several seconds while I formulate a response. “It’s best for us both that I say nothing.”

“You have to tell her. What if she feels the same? What if she’s just waiting for you to say something? What if you’re both afraid for the same reason? What if you miss your chance and never get another?”

“It’s more complicated than that.”

“Have you ever kissed her?”

“No.”

She gasps, eyes dancing. “You must. What if it’s fab?”

“That’d be worse than not doing it at all.”

She cocks her head, “I don’t understand you. What about this love you supposedly feel?”

“It’s just a summer thing. I’ll get over it.” 

A sigh. “Okay”

“I always do.”

“Until you don’t.”

I narrow my eyes. “What’s that mean?”

“It means you do until you don’t. I thought that too, once, and then-”

“Eimear!” One of the dancing hippies calls out to her as the melody changes again, to something lively and upbeat. “Are you bringing your little chavvy friend to dance or not?”

She looks at me, and I shake my head firmly. 

“No,” she calls back, “He's decided against it.”

The group boos me heartily as she climbs to her feet, making such a scene with their disapproval that others turn to have a look, and to smile at me in that sympathetic way that you do to a child that is failing to fit in with his peers. I am a spectacle in football shorts among the harem-pantsed congregation. 

“Let yourself experience love.” Eimear says in parting, as serenely, she drifts towards her friends, twirling in a meadow of dog daisies. 

“Right, yeah.” I say, and get up to wander back the way I came, wobbly on my feet as the full force of the beers I necked in one go hits me all at once. And as I leave the strange, hazy dreamland behind and reenter the grungy reality of the main arena, I reach into my pocket and discover something that wasn’t there before. 

It’s a baggie with three pink, pressed ketamine pills. 

Beginning // Prev // Next

[sageryuri]

BETWEEN HIS FINGERS, JAKE SIM.

pairing jake sim + fem!reader.

genre i’m not really sure what to class this as, they’re just friends who can’t seem to talk about their feelings.

summary jake always knows you'll find him, and you know he can always make you feel better.

word count 0.9k

warnings alcohol usage, marijuana usage,

an sorry for those waiting for the sunghoon fic, i’m so busy atm and havent had time to attend to it :(

There's nothing you hate more than house parties.

People are bumping into you from every corner; their hot, drunk breaths on your neck bother you more and more with every second. It was barely twelve yet, and people were already out of their minds, you couldn't tell who were incredibly drunk or had taken pills because they all seemed to act exactly the same.

You look around trying to find your friends, but it appears they have been dragged into the chaos as they break out moves in the centre of the living room. You've already lost them in the storm, there's no turning back now.

Drinking wasn't the go-to, not for you. With a lack of control once you start drinking, it always leads to bad decisions and tears. Instead, you stuck with the delicacy of dried leaves crumbled into a thin paper- or a bong.

It was never your friends taste, so it was rare you ever had any at parties, considering strangers would be begging you for it. You just had to keep an eye out for one person in particular.

You're sure he's locked himself in someone's bedroom, making himself comfortable with the open window with a well-rolled joint resting between his fingers. That's if he had even turned up, feeling similarly about these parties to you, only being there to babysit.

"Hey, Leah! I'm gonna go and find Jake, you all going to be okay by yourselves?" You shouted across the room, waving your arms wildly for your friend to see. Leah sees you, albeit with a headache-inducing blur, she grins widely and offers a thumbs up while bopping her head to the music.

That's enough for you to wander off on your own adventure to find your trusted companion who's sitting on a goldmine of desired goods.

You watch your step while you walk up the stairs, avoiding the light-weights that are loitering so they don't trip over their own feet. There's a deep red stain on the top step which makes you wince knowing this is in fact Mark's parents house, and he's going to get more than a slap over the head when they come back home in the next week.

There's multiple doors, as you would assume there would be in such a house. So many doors, yet none seemed to stick out to you, apart from the one that had been slammed shut by a couple as soon as you took your last step.

A sign that writes 'Mark's room' with 'DO NOT ENTER' plastered underneath seems plausible and you find yourself laughing at the superhero stickers spread across it. To be polite, you knock four times and await the sound of Australian twang behind the door.

"I've been waiting for you!" He shouts, and you take that as an invitation, opening the door and shutting it just as quickly. As expected, Jake has perched himself on the window ledge, smoke falling from his lips.

He has always been so hypnotic. You'd never admit it to him no matter how close the two of you were, no matter how many times he would say you could tell him anything, but you could stare at him for hours and hours.

There was an unusual time where the two of you were so high you could barely move, having to lay next to each other in silence. At one moment, you had only examined each other, and your finger began to trace every detail of his face. After that, neither of you really decided to speak about it, leaving things how they had always been.

Confusing, frustrating- yet blissful.

"I was hoping you would be around here somewhere. I wish I'd come up here earlier, it's a complete mess down there." You sigh, sitting down on Mark's bed and closing your eyes. The music is not so loud, and you can hardly hear anyone outside the door, just the quieter whispers in the back garden.

"That's why I've been up here, knew you were gonna come up here eventually." He stands up, makes his way over to you and passes you the joint; which you happily take, "You look really pretty, by the way. Never seen you in that dress before, I like it."

The dress had been forced upon you by Leah, who insisted it would fit you perfectly. You weren't really opposed to it, but sometimes the lingering eyes, both lusting and judging, were too much. It was tight around your waist, where it then flowed down to your mid thighs, a deep red colour.

"It's not mine, but I like it too. Thank you." You smile at him, taking a drag from the roll. Feeling calmer, your head falls onto Jake's shoulder and his arm sneaks around your waist to hold you up comfortably, "Do you think Mark will be angry we're smoking in his room?"

"Nah. He's got bigger things to deal with than a little marijuana in his bedroom. You see that red stain on the carpet?" He responds and you can't help but laugh after seeing it on the stairs those few minutes ago before you walked in, "It's huge. There's no way that's coming out- they're gonna make him buy a whole new carpet."

"He can afford it, he'll be fine. One hell of a stain though, I'm horrified for him." You murmur, you find yourself snuggling against him a little worse and slip the joint back into his hands. His face isn't visible to you, but you can imagine the sweet smile he always had spread across his face.

A comforting silence falls over both of you and his free hand soothingly rubs your waist. The unknowingness of your true feelings of each other leaves a strange feeling in the pit of your stomach, but you try to enjoy the moment as you can.

[signor-signor]

Trending 27th - June 2024

What gives you the motivation for not giving up on Wander Over Yonder?

Well, for starters, when Craig McCracken brought up the uncalled-for cancellation, he also brought up the existence of…

The Plans

Here’s what Craig said in his Tumblr post from March of 2016:

“About a year ago we presented a pitch for a season 3 arc that promised to bring our characters together in new, unexpected, and hilarious ways. And just as S2 evolved from S1, we had a really exciting approach to evolving S3 even further. We had plans for new characters, the return of old characters, and even a bit of backstory! We were all really excited about the new direction and so were our bosses at DisneyXD and TVA.”

“Unfortunately, the higher up bosses of bosses of bosses at Disney decided not to continue with the show. It's not that they didn't like Wander, they just felt that 2 seasons and 80 cartoons was enough and they didn't see the need to produce any more.”

“For the record, this decision had nothing to do with the ratings performance of S2. Truth be told, we were informed that we wouldn't be continuing before S2 even premiered.”

If what he said is to be believed, the mediocre performance of S1 on Disney XD made the “higher up bosses of bosses of bosses” think WOY shouldn’t continue after S2, so they decided to cancel it five months after the pitch, one week before The Greater Hater premiered. Big mistake. After nearly a decade, Craig still keeps the plans for S3 under wraps, but his talk of S3 is enough to pique my curiosity. He piqued it even more when he brought up Star Force Enforcement Force in 2021. Truth be told, he knows way more about that third and final season than he let on.

At first, I thought S2 would wrap up the show nicely. Boy, was I wrong - it wrapped up S2, but not the whole show. Once I checked out The End of the Galaxy, I knew right then and there that one more season was planned, because in the end credits, I saw…

The Cliffhanger

I will admit, I found the last couple of minutes anticlimactic. Dominator spurned Wander’s friendship, Hater is still cuckoo for conquering (much to Peepers’s delight), and the main four are practically back where they began. I reiterate, it wrapped up the season nicely, but not the whole show, because what I’m about to describe is indicative of the show’s unfinished business.

Dominator walks off in angry defeat, trying to peel an orange (or open a jar of jam if you prefer, assuming you looked closely at what she grabbed), and she grumbles, “They’ll get what’s coming to them.” Unbeknownst to her, she passes by a crash-landed space capsule with its door unhinged. Green lightning flashes, ominous Hater-themed music plays, and simian screeching is heard and fades into Hater’s evil laugh.

How is this anything less than an indicator of unfinished business? If stopping the show here is not a bad move, I don’t know what is. I’m positive English primatologist Jane Goodall would not be pleased with the decision to leave an ape stranded in space with no one around to help him. The question remains: who would find that space ape? Wander and the passengers aboard the Star Nomad or Star Force Enforcement Force? Only Craig and those who worked on the pitch with him would know and so would the bosses of Disney XD and DTVA. There’s also something that was on my mind after I watched the season finale. I shall now tell you about…

The Missing Pieces

I’m, of course, referring to parts that were absent from the episode and left unexplained. We’ve got the other villains, most of whom were last seen in The Bad Neighbors. Emperor Awesome made a silent appearance in The Sick Day, and that was it. As a certain @koskela13 indicated in a post 8 years ago, the villains never mustered up the courage to help the heroes fight against Dominator. There’s also Buster, the planet-sized puppy dog whom the Ballzerians call home. Since Beeza and the Ballzerians were among the refugees, he had to have fled from Dominator’s galactic onslaught. I found long ago that he’s supposed to be all right, but where he is remains to be seen. Same goes for Janet the Planet and her moon, Maurice; however, it was said that they were on their honeymoon, hence their absence in S2. Another thing that I think was left out was Wander getting to sing/play his banjo. Think about it, if the crew had wanted to stop after S2, would they have had Wander perform a glorious reprise of an upbeat song right after Dominator’s downfall? That was never done. It’s pretty obvious.

Moving right along, another thing that keeps me motivated is…

The Fan Content

Over the years, I came across countless fan pieces to make the Internet aware of the show’s existence, such as @wanderin-over-yonder’s calendars. It’s possible to come up with WOY-related activities, original characters, and meta gags.

Master Yisuko

Dr. Otmar Vunderbar

In case you haven’t guessed by now, the possibilities are endless.

I would expand more on the Star Nomad, but I’m sure you can find the information in my previous posts. As long as we’re talking fan stuff, let me refer to…

The Supporting Characters (and their VAs’ Longevities)

Apart from the five major characters, The End of the Galaxy had at least ten other characters speak solo (King Bingleborp, Destructor, the Cashier, Prince Cashmere, Neckbeard, the Lost and Found Guy, the Black Cube, Mittens, Major Threat, and Michelle). All the others barely had a chance to shine. For that reason, I put my effort into showcasing as many of them as I could in my fan fiction, The Eye on the Galaxy. What’s more, some of those characters are performed by voice actors over the age of 50. Stella Starbella was voiced by June Squibb, who was in her mid-80s while WOY was running. Today, she’s a nonagenarian, and if her performance in Inside Out 2 as Nostalgia is any indication, it’s not too late for her to reprise her role as that character. We might have until 2030 to revive the show, assuming June lives to be 100.

By the way, Major Threat was said to become a recurring character in S3, and we’ve yet to see him actually interact with Wander long after he put his days of villainy behind him.

Now I wish to bring up…

The Luck of the Other Shows

A vague and unconvincing reason for WOY’s cancellation was that two seasons/80 episodes were enough. I mean, really? Disney never felt that way about Fish Hooks, which I believe has three seasons and 110 episodes. Also, they allowed Star vs. the Forces of Evil to run for four seasons, putting it well over 100 episodes. And how about Big City Greens? Although not as frequently brought up as Gravity Falls, Amphibia, or The Owl House, it recently managed to get a whopping five seasons. They’re treating it like it’s the new Phineas and Ferb, although there’s no merchandising or presence in the parks. When I compare WOY to the aforementioned shows, it’s clear to me that it had the worst of luck. Heck, I wasn’t even sure if those other shows had pitches for later seasons. We can’t stand idly by while the plans made for WOY remain shelved. It just wouldn’t be right, y’know what I mean?

One more thing…

The Other Fandoms of Shows With Unfinished Business

I’ve noticed the presence of fans of shows that still have more to tell, including, but not limited to, Sym-Bionic Titan and Glitch Techs. One show that’s being resurrected as we speak is Sonic the Hedgehog (SatAM), which ran in the 1990s for a measly two seasons and, just like WOY, was left on a cliffhanger (in this one, Snively re-emerges in a different outfit and is raring to take his uncle’s place and put a stop to the Freedom Fighters, and behind him stands Naugus, who somehow managed to escape the void). Fortunately, a group called Team Sea3on are working on a S3 premiere titled “Return to Robotropolis.” You can find this group on just about any social media platform - their determination to right the wrong done to the show is truly inspiring.

Did I mention shows like Hey Arnold! and Samurai Jack got closure after years of being neglected and incomplete? The same thing could happen to WOY if we persevere. Invader Zim, which also only got two seasons, got its overdue closure (I think) in the form of a Netflix-exclusive movie. If a season is too much work, fewer episodes or a two-hour TV movie should suffice.

And I think that’s about it for now. I hope all this information was enough to keep you all motivated! Fight on for fairness, my friends, and to those of you who think of The End of the Galaxy only as a SEASON finale, I thank you.

#CanceledCartoons

[literary-illuminati]

2024 Book Review #29 – The Expert System’s Brother by Adrian Tchaikovsky

My public library tragically lacks the Tchaikovsky books I actually want to read (one day I shall get my hands on City of Last Chances. One day...), but it helpfully does have a random assortment of his other stuff. Among that other stuff was this rather charming little novella – hardly anything to set the world on fire, but it was a fun easy read to break the streak of a couple of disappointments.

The story follows Handry, a boy growing up in a village guided and governed by ‘ghosts’, immortal systems that fuse with and warp a suitable host to allow them to interact with the rest of the village as lawgiver, doctor, architect, or whatever else the village might require. After a deeply unfortunate accident, he ends up partially ‘severed’ – cut off from village and the world around it in a very real way, incapable of digesting food, avoided by animals, and inspiring aa visceral fight-or-flight reaction in everyone who sees him. For a time, his sister helps him survive on the village’s periphery, but when she’s selected as it’s next Doctor, her ghost finally takes a look at him and decrees he is incompatible with the community – and so he is forced to flee and wander the earth, and ends up learning the real state and history of the world.

This came out in 2018, but everything about it feels very classic sci fi – generally in a good way, to be clear. The story that exists primarily to be able to tease and then exposit about worldbuilding, the setting of an alien world inhabited by colonists who have forgotten their history and the source of the technology they rely upon, the absolute plethora of random bits of weirdness that are only really revealed implictly because they are totally normal to the protagonist (the six-legged and four-eyed bodyplan of most wildlife, for example), even the overarching theme of the perfect virtue of curiosity and questioning both charismatic authority and received tradition. It was a fun time! Made me a bit nostalgic for all my dad’s old ratty paperbacks I read as a child.

It’s definitively a novella-sized story, and I’m immensely glad Tchaikovsky didn’t try to drag out longer than it is. There are some intriguing points that are never followed up on – the tool-using and home-building aliens which every casually treats as wildlife and casually exterminates or drives out when they need more land, to begin with – that I assume are what the sequel follows up on? But this ended in the right place, and even with his voice being so present in the narration I’m not really sure Handry is enough of a character to have sustained a full novel in his head. Certainly none of the other characters got any more characterization than they strictly needed.

So yeah, no real complaints, it was an enjoyable read – but on the other hand in three months you’ll probably need to remind me that I’d actually read this.

[onceuponaoneshotfanfic]

Something There (Chapter 6)

6.8k words

Roy Kent x Reader

Warnings: Language, mentions of sex, angst, mentions of slut-shaming, pining, angst

Author's Note: FINALLY!!!!!!!! Ahh, I had some bad writer's block and struggled for a bit there, but @agentstarkid helped get me through it! Thank you for your patience!

Series Masterlist

Most of the women Roy Kent slept with didn’t stay over. Many didn’t even try. And, in all honesty, Roy was fine with it.

Not that he’d been seeing many women lately. After he’d tackled Jamie Tartt and ended his playing career, there weren’t as many interested candidates.

But Roy wasn’t interested in it anymore either. Not since Keeley, at least. He definitely wasn’t pining over her at this point, he was very much over her, and he certainly treasured their friendship, but there was no point in denying that he couldn’t bear the thought of going back to meaningless hookups, not after what he and Keeley had.

He wanted a partner, someone to understand him, someone to share his highs and lows with, someone who’d fucking challenge him and make him a better man.

There was a brief moment, when his fingers dug into Bucky’s soft skin and his mouth explored every inch of her and she whispered his name, where Roy wondered if maybe he’d found that person.

Of course, that idea dissipated when he woke up in the morning to find himself, once again, alone in his bed. He knew better than to assume she’d gone to the bathroom or down to the kitchen for a glass of water, even before he saw her clothes gone from the bedroom floor where they’d been haphazardly discarded.

Roy frowned as he stared up at the ceiling. He hadn’t really wanted her to sleep over, did he? To have to deal with the immediate conversation regarding what had just happened and what it meant… No, it was nice to have the morning to think about things and figure out what to say. Yeah, she’d done the right thing. Honestly, she’d done the Roy Kent thing.

Despite himself, Roy stayed in bed for a bit, running the night before though his slightly pounding head. He’d had a good time, actually. And not just because of the sex. Dancing with her was surprisingly nice. He was amazed by the way they’d spoken so candidly to each other about their careers and the heartbreak they shared. They’d made each other laugh, something he didn’t think they were capable of doing together.

And yeah, the sex was kind of mind-blowing.

Finally, he made himself get up, running his hands over his tired face as he wandered down the hall, where his tie still lay on the floor. In the living room he spotted his jacket lying carelessly by the couch. He crouched down, ignoring the dull pain in his knee, and fished his cell phone out of the inside pocket.

Fuck. Why did he feel more than a little disappointed when he didn’t see her name in his messages? Fuck off, Roy. Get it together.

Instead, there were a couple of texts from Jamie (“Thanks for the dance, Coach!” “Where’d you & Coach Bucky run off to??”), and Lucas (“Take good care of her ;)”), and Keeley (“Saw you leave with Bucky. Good for you two!”). He scowled. He should’ve known that people would see them getting into a cab together; Monday would mean damage control, lots of telling people they’d just shared a cab, he’d been a gentleman and made sure she got home safe, the end. That had to be what she wanted to tell everyone, right?

He hadn’t stirred an inch as I grabbed my things and redressed, closing the door quietly behind me as I called a cab to take me home.

~

Waking up next to Roy Kent was not good. Not that Roy wasn’t nice; on the contrary, I wasn’t surprised to find that he was fantastic in bed and quite the gentleman after, making sure I was cleaned up and comfortable before we laid down for what was supposed to be a quick nap. But when I stirred at about four in the morning and realized where I was and whose arm was tightly wrapped around me, I knew I had to get out of there. We’d crossed a bridge that there was no going back to, and I just wanted to go home and have a private panic.

The shower I took once after I’d laid in bed for a bit did nothing to take the feeling of Roy Kent off me; it was as if his hands were still on every inch of my body. The quiet little part of me that always seemed to be thinking about him couldn’t help but savor the images floating around in my mind. The loud part, the part that wanted to be taken seriously as a successful manager, the part that knew the challenges I faced as a woman manager, prayed that no one would ever find out that I’d slept with Roy Kent.

As I was blow-drying my hair, my phone went off; the words Boss-Ass Bitch appeared on my screen.

“Hey Keels,” I groaned into the phone, scrutinizing my reflection; God, my face was tired. “Are you feeling as hungover as I am?”

“Babe…” Keeley’s voice was slow and full of uncertainty. “Think I could come over?”

In less than an hour, Keeley was sitting on my couch, looking small as I handed her a mug of coffee. She watched me carefully as I sat beside her with my own mug. Something was clearly wrong, and I was terrified to find out what it was.

She gazed down at her coffee before finally opening her mouth. “I know you went home with Roy last night,” she whispered.

My heart sank. “Fuck, Keeley.” I put my hand on her leg, horrified. “I’m so sorry. It was stupid- I should have never- I would have never if I’d known you still had feelings-”

“What?” Keeley wrinkled her nose at me. “Oh, fuck, babe not that. You can shag Roy all you want. Kind of glad you two finally did it, you’ve been so damn insufferable trying to hide how badly you both want it.”

Ignoring her mocking tone, I shook my head. “What the fuck’s wrong then?”

Sobering up, she pulled out her phone and handed it to me. “Friend of mine sent me this.”

If my heart had sunk into my stomach when I thought I’d hurt Keeley, it was practically in my shoes now. There we were, getting into a cab in front of the venue. There we were, getting out of the same cab in front of his house. There was his hand on my lower back as we went up the sidewalk. There I was walking through his front door.

“What the fuck?” I hissed, fighting the urge to throw Keeley’s phone across the room. Instead, I gingerly handed it back to her, fighting every urge I had to scream my head off. “How did this happen?” Suddenly, another question seemed more important: “Has Roy seen these?”

Keeley pocketed her phone and shook her head. “I wanted to show you first. Roy’s… used to the press being all up in his shit. Figured you needed more of a heads up.”

My head fell into my hands. If my hangover didn’t make me feel like puking, this sure as hell did the trick. As soon as these photos became public, I was done for.  Never mind the trophies, the medals, the legacy of winning. All I’d be was the slut who slept with Roy fucking Kent.

“Is there anything you can do?” I breathed, unsure if Keeley could hear my muffled voice.

Her hand stroked my back, trying to offer some comfort. “I will do my very best,” she promised. “Swear to God, I’ll do my best.”

~

He didn’t hear from her. All weekend, Roy stared at his mobile, waiting for her name to pop up. Every time it vibrated or pinged, he felt his heart skip a beat, only for it so falter when it was his sister, or Jamie, or one of the gaffers. Even Ted shot him a quick text to ask how the gala went (and if Rebecca had a good time).

By Monday morning, the knot in his stomach was the size of the football he absently kicked as the Greyhounds made their way to the pitch. He’d only growled greetings that morning and had avoided the offices; it was going to be a miserable fucking day.

“Alright there, Coach?” Beard looked at him with concern as the fellas began stretching in the cool morning air. “Been even more silent than usual.”

Roy let out one of his dramatic sighs. It was really tempting, the idea of telling someone all the shit that’d been running through his head these twenty-four hours. Of wondering what the fuck sleeping together meant, and what her leaving without a word meant.

But talking about feelings was fucking embarrassing.

“Tired,” he finally mumbled. “Fucking gala’s exhausting.”

Beard nodded. “Saw you leaving with-”

“We shared a fucking cab.” Roy cleared his throat. “Made sure she got home safe. Managed to not bite each other’s heads off in the cab, you’d’ve been very fucking proud of us.”

“Right.”

The buzzing in Roy’s pocket had his heart skipping a beat. Of course, it wasn’t the one person he was stupidly hoping to hear from; it was Keeley.

Stop ignoring me and text me back. It’s IMPORTANT.

Roy rolled his eyes and tapped away, asking Keeley what the fuck she wanted.

Can we talk during your lunch? Privately?

“Fine, whatever,” he grumbled as he responded with a thumbs-up emoji.

He tried to focus during training, he really did. But he was a mess. He forgot the names of trick plays, he confused the guys’ positions. It was humiliating. Roy felt all wrong, and he hated that everyone- the gaffers, the players, fucking Will- could see it.

Finally, he trudged down the halls, his curiosity about what Keeley had to tell him finally piquing. He grunted absently at the people he passed, his feet carrying him towards the changing room and the coaches’ offices. When he turned into his office, his heart leapt into his throat when he saw a familiar ponytail in the Whippets’ office.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

Not quite sure what he was doing, Roy poked his head through the door connecting the two offices, noting that there was no Lucas or any players to be seen. Just the two of them, all alone, just like the night of the gala.

“Hey.” Roy barely recognized his own voice; it was soft, timid, almost nervous. He fucking hated it.

Her eyes were wide when she turned away from her computer. “Oh. Hello, Coach Kent.”

Coach Kent. Not Roy.

Her expression matched the way he felt inside: tense, uncomfortable, a bit confused. Maybe even a little sad. She offered him a tight smile as she stood up.

“See you around.” Before Roy could say anything, she walked out briskly, not bothering to look at him.

Roy couldn’t help feeling monumentally disappointed as he returned to his own office, shoulders sagging. What the fuck was that? He dropped into his desk chair, brows furrowed, and leaned his elbows on his knees. He’d expected some awkwardness, sure, but not whatever the fuck that was. She’d practically run at the sight of him.

“There you are.” Keeley stood in the doorway, the woeful look on her face contrasting with the fluorescent outfit she had on. She closed the door behind her. “Can we talk?”

Roy nodded, gesturing towards Beard’s desk. “Go on then.”

Before she sat down, Keeley crossed the office and shut the other door, the one that led to the Whippets’ empty office. With a sigh, she grabbed Beard’s chair and pushed it closer to Roy. The look on her face was familiar to Roy; it was her “I don’t want to have this conversation but we have to have it” face. He saw it a lot around the time they broke up. At least that time, he knew why she was making that face; this time he was completely in the dark.

“Keels?”

The blonde took a deep breath. “Right. Well, um, a friend of mine at a tabloid, she saw these photos, and she thought we might want a heads up…”

Roy’s stomach dropped. “Photos?”

Without another word, Keeley unlocked her phone and handed it to Roy; a risky move, honestly, with Roy’s temper. Roy let out a pained growl when he saw the photographs of Bucky and himself, their faces almost happy as they walked into his house.

Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuck

“Has she seen these?”

Keeley’s face somehow grew sadder at the first words Roy was able to manage. “Showed her yesterday. Meant to show you too, but you wouldn’t answer.”

Roy nodded. It made sense now, her barely speaking a word to him. Her not calling or texting. It made sense.

After a long moment of silence, Roy stood and handed Keeley her phone. She opened her mouth to say something- probably to offer sympathy or assure him that she was going to do her best to handle things- but Roy stormed off before she could.

~

The cool tile floor of the dark boot room provided me a safe hiding place. After Roy had surprised me in the office, I needed a place to just breathe. Seeing his face made me feel like I was going to be sick, even sicker than the photos made me feel. He was so relaxed, so calm, as if the world wasn’t falling apart.

Probably because for him it wasn’t. I knew his reputation. I’d known it before I walked into his house and accepted his whiskey and fell into his bed. For him this was normal, part of being a famous athlete whose life was a public string of one-night stands. It didn’t impact his career, didn’t have people judging him or calling him crude things. It didn’t diminish his legacy.

Could I say the same for myself?

Just as I was starting to get my breathing under control and beginning to feel like I could face people again, the boot room door slammed open.

Of fucking course it was Roy Kent.

His wide eyes blinked several times to adjust to the dark room. When he spotted my curled-up figure leaning against the wall, he closed the door quietly behind him and took a step into the room. With a groan and a crack coming from his knee, he joined me on the floor, like he had in that little shed at the team retreat. Even in the dark, I could see the deep frown etched into his face.

“I am so fucking sorry.” His voice was a quiet rasp. “So, so fucking sorry.” He reached out and touched my hand, somehow looking sadder when I flinched at his touch. “Keeley just told me.”

Oh. That was why he’d been so calm.

He went on. “I… I really don’t know what the fuck to say.” He threw his head back, leaning against the wall. “I don’t know what happened. But Keeley- I- we’ll handle it. We’ll fucking handle it.”

With a sigh, I shook my head. “It’s my own fault,” I whispered. “I made a choice without thinking about the fucking consequences.”

“It’s not your fault.” Roy’s voice was firm. “It’s the fucking press. Fucking vultures,” he spat. His voice turned thoughtful. “Why don’t we get together after work and-”

My pained, hollow laugh stopped him midsentence. “Come on, Roy. I can’t be seen with you. I shouldn’t even be in a dark boot room with you. There’s none of this ‘we’. There can’t be.”

I swore I heard him barely breathe my name in a strangled voice.

“I can’t,” I repeated, softer now. My stomach was in absolute knots; I wasn’t planning on doing this. Not in the fucking boot room, at least. “Roy, I just… I need my face in the papers for being a winning coach, not sleeping with one. And- and, I mean it was great, you were great. But let’s be honest. We both know it was just another one of your flings.” I cleared my throat, face on fire. “And that’s totally your prerogative. I knew what I was getting into. I’m a big girl. Do what you want. Do who you want. You’re a legend here. You can sleep with all the women you want, and they’ll look at you like you’re a fucking god. But me… I mean, if people found out I slept with a coworker…”

“Things are different for you,” he sighed. For once, there wasn’t a hint of venom when he repeated the fact that I so often reminded him of. Instead, there was nothing but sadness. Disappointment. Misery. “No. Yeah. Fuck, I get it.” He looked at me as best he could in the darkness. “You gonna be alright?”

I shrugged. “I have to be, don’t I?”

He nodded. “Guess you do.” His hand twitched, as though he was debating reaching out again. It remained where it was. “Keeley’s got this,” he assured me. “She’s brilliant. And… I’ve got your back. No matter what.” His smile was so sad I swore I could hear my heart crack. “We’re Richmond til we die, alright?”

“Thanks, Kent.”

With that, I stood and walked over to the door, leaving Roy Kent alone on the boot room floor.

~

Roy sighed and took another sip of his coffee, watching Jamie do burpees, for once taking no pleasure in his former teammate’s ragged breathing and pained expression. For a week now, Bucky had kept true to her word and avoided being around Roy as much as possible. No fighting or screaming, no civility and politeness, and sure as hell no flirting, which he had kind of hoped there would be before these stupid photos. He felt like a fucking ghost as he walked down the halls of Nelson Road.

He glanced at his watch. “Alright, you’re done,” he barked, pulling a water bottle out of Jamie’s backpack that sat on the bench beside him. He handed it to Jamie as he jogged over to Roy.

“Alright, Roy?” He cocked his head. “That was only one hundred and ninety-two. Thought I needed to do two hundred.” When Roy only grunted, Jamie continued. “You’ve looked real distracted lately, mate. Come on. Tell ol’ Jamie what’s up.”

For a moment, Roy just stared at Jamie. This shit had been really eating at him ever since Keeley showed him the pictures… no, since he woke up and found himself alone in his bed and, for once, wishing he wasn’t. He didn’t want to tell Keeley about this, she felt stressed enough about the photos; she didn’t need to also have the weight of Roy’s woes on her shoulders as well. No way could he go to Rebecca, she’d kill him for ruining all the civility they’d finally managed. Beard and Nate didn’t need to be roped into more of their bullshit, they’d been through enough since the Whippets’ arrival. Ted was too far away, and even if Roy could be bothered to call him about this, he didn’t feel like hearing some nonsense story about a childhood friend in Kansas that was only vaguely related to Roy’s problem. His sister would probably roll her eyes and make some comment about him needing to not shit where he ate. Even Doctor Sharon felt like the wrong person to talk to.

That really only left one prickish person for Roy to confide in.

With a grumble, Roy gestured for Jamie to join him on the bench. Once the men were side by side, Roy leaned back, finger tracing the lid of his coffee. “I… the night of the gala… I…”

“Is this about Coach Buck?”

Unable to bring himself to look at Jamie, Roy nodded. “Yeah. Yeah.” He took another sip of his coffee, as if the caffeine would somehow calm him down. “I fucking slept with her.”

There. He said it. It was out there, spilled like that bottle of ink Phoebe had dropped on his carpet last week. A big, dark stain hanging in the air between the two Greyhounds.

“Yeah?”

Roy frowned. Jamie didn’t seem shocked at all; if anything, his furrowed brows told Roy that Jamie wasn’t sure what the fuss was all about. “Yeah. I slept with her.” Good, Roy. Say it again. That’ll make Tartt lose that permanent confused expression.

Jamie shrugged. “I mean, obviously. You’ve been sleeping together since, what, the charity game, right? When she gave you some of the money for the doctors and shit?”

“What the fuck?” Now Roy got to be the one with the furrowed brows, accompanied by a mouth gaped in surprise. “No, you twat. Just the one time after the gala.”

It was a good thing the early morning was so dark, because the sight of two football legends gawking at one another on a bench would have drawn most people’s attention. And Roy definitely didn’t need more photos of him floating around.

“But…” Jamie shook his head. “You two’ve been almost nice to each other since the game. Figured you were shagging the entire time.”

Roy’s face twisted in disgust. This was who he chose to confide in? Not for the first time, Roy found himself regretting the fact that his two best friends were his eight-year-old niece and… Jamie Tartt.

Apparently not recognizing the dangerous look on Roy’s face, Jamie pressed on. “So, what’s the problem? You got to shag a beautiful woman who’s like a girl version of you, except much nicer. Shouldn’t you be like bouncing off the walls with excitement or some shit? You’re together now, right?”

A lump formed in Roy’s throat. Fuck. “No,” he finally mumbled. “She… I… We’re keeping our distance.”

Jamie didn’t need to know that she’d broken Roy’s heart. Roy could barely admit it to himself.

“But why?” Jamie looked like a kid whose parents just told him the tooth fairy wasn’t real, with his wide eyes and pouty lips. “You’re soulmates or some shit. Like Kermit and Miss Piggy.”

Roy felt weirdly grateful for Jamie’s idiocy; feeling annoyed was a nice change of pace from everything else he’d been feeling lately.

“Some fucking papp caught us going into my house,” he muttered, staring down at his coffee cup. “And she… I think she got scared. All this stuff about her being a woman coach and her reputation. Asked me to stay away from her.” He shrugged. “So I am.”

Jamie had never looked so serious in the entire time Roy had known him. “Fuck.”

Roy nodded solemnly. “Yeah.”

~

It was a quiet week after that conversation in the boot room. Very quiet. I did my best to ignore the dull stabbing feeling in my chest that appeared every time I thought of those photos, or saw Roy in passing, or even just heard someone say his name. Instead, I focused all my energy on the Whippets. They continued to impress everyone, including myself. They had performed spectacularly so far in the season; even the small handful of losses we suffered were close, exciting games that came down to only one or two goals.

After a particularly grueling practice, Luke and I made our way out of the Dog Track, debating where to get dinner from before settling at my place for an episode of Lust Conquers All. Just as he almost had me convinced that pizza for three days in a row was not childish, I heard a familiar voice call my name. My pulse quickened as I turned around.

“Hi, George!”

George Willows offered me a boyish grin as he approached, hands in his pockets, head slightly dipped. All charm and ease. “How’s it going, Coach?” He gave Lucas a small nod of acknowledgement before turning his attention back to me. “Whippets are looking great.”

My face warmed at his praise. Or his smile. Maybe both. “They’re a great group of players,” I murmured. “We’re lucky to be their managers.”

Luke threw an arm around my shoulders. “She’s being modest. Which she usually never is,” he added pointedly. “She’s a brilliant coach.”

“Oh, I know.” George kicked the pavement beneath his feet. “Your success should be celebrated. Like maybe with dinner tomorrow night?”

Something caught in my throat. George Willows was asking me out. A nice, handsome man with a normal job and no reputation for getting his picture in the tabloids. Dinner would be lovely. He’d hold my hand and pull out my chair for me. He’d insist on paying for dinner and walking me to my door. He’d probably even ask before kissing me goodnight. There’d be no arguing, no trying to one-up each other, and absolutely no awkwardness.

This was what I wanted- right?

Before I could figure out why the hell George’s offer had me more confused and anxious than thrilled, Lucas spoke for me. “She’s love to,” he assured George, digging his fingers into me. “Wouldn’t ya, Buck?”

Shit. Say something.

“That sounds great!” I finally blurted out. His relieved smile had my shoulders relaxing. “Let’s say six tomorrow? Gives me time to shower and change after training.”

George nodded earnestly, eager as a schoolboy. “Perfect. Text me your address, I’ll pick you up.”

We said our goodbyes, my face feeling noticeably warm, before Lucas and I began our walk home. My eyes stayed fixated on the sidewalk the entire time, not sure what to say to Lucas, and even more unsure why there was a knot in my stomach along with the butterflies George and our date gave me.

“Alright, what gives?” Lucas finally demanded as we settled on the couch with our pizza. “You’ve been drooling over George Willows pretty much since we got to Richmond. Why don’t you look over the moon about your date?”

For a moment, I just stared at my pizza, as if the pepperoni and extra cheese would be able to explain what was up, and I wouldn’t have to say a word. Finally, I realized I had to tell Lucas the one thing I’d planned on taking to my grave.

“I slept with Roy fucking Kent,” I groaned, slouching into the couch and refusing to look at Lucas. “The night of the fucking gala. He invited me in for a drink, we got to talking, and we… you know.”

“Oh shit.”

When I looked at Lucas, his mouth was wide open, and his eyes were fixed on my face. No hint of teasing, laughter, jokes. No lewd comments or “I told you so”.

But only for a moment.

“I mean,” he finally said, “I’m mostly surprised it took so long, honestly. You’ve looked like you’ve wanted to rip each other’s clothes off since the day we arrived.” He cocked his head at me. “Is that why you were hesitant about George? You and Kent are starting something up? Because if I’d known, I never would have-”

“We’re not starting something,” I insisted. “It was a onetime thing. Believe me.” Realizing I wasn’t going to touch my food, I set my plate down on the coffee table. “And there’s more. There’s… pictures.”

In an instant, Lucas was on his feet, fists clenched. “Did he take photos of you?” In all the years I’d known him, I’d never seen such rage on his normally friendly face.

“What? Oh, fuck no.” I tugged him back down to the couch, amused and touched by his fiery reaction. “But good to know you’d kick his ass if he did,” I mused. “Some fucking photographer caught us getting into a cab and then getting out at his place,” I explained quickly. “They haven’t been published yet but… I’d rather play it safe.” I shrugged. “I mean, not like we were going to become boyfriend-girlfriend or some shit, right? So, just gotta keep a low profile, stay away from each other, and hope the whole thing goes away.”

“Hmm.” Lucas leaned his head on my shoulder. “Gotta admit, kinda wanted to see you two become Richmond’s hot power couple.”

I rolled my eyes. “Yeah, no. He’s probably already had like three more women in that bed since the gala. It meant nothing to him.” I cleared my throat. “Nothing to me either,” I quickly added. “It was fun, had a good time, but back to business as usual.” I took out my phone and pulled up my text thread with George, already filled with texts between us; not like Roy Kent, who I had zero messages with. “So, I am just going to go on a nice date with a nice man and have a nice time,” I announced, typing my address and telling George I was looking forward to dinner.

“You sure you’re not hung up on this Roy Kent shit?” Lucas asked quietly.

My phone pinged, alerting me to the smiley face George immediately responded with. “Absolutely not.”

The following day flew by in a blur of soccer and workouts and knowing grins from Lucas. Once I’d assured him that I was not hung up on Roy Kent and that I was very interested in George Willows, he was back on board with the whole date thing. He even came over to help me look at outfits, leaving just before six. As I picked out a pair of earrings that would look nice with my black dress, I kept an eye on my phone, figuring George would text to let me know he was outside so I could head on down.

The sound of knocking made me jump. Oh. He’d come to my door to pick me up. I tried to remember the last time that happened; to be fair, I hadn’t even been on a real date since arriving in England.

I put on my earrings as I scurried to the door, feeling my shoulders relax at the sight of George and the bouquet of roses he held.

“Hi,” I breathed, amazed at how comfortable I felt despite the butterflies in my stomach.

“You look beautiful,” was his greeting as he handed me the flowers. “Ready to go?”

I let him hold my hand as we walked down to his car, where he held open the door for me. The conversation during the drive was sparse; just general little chitchat, nothing too complicated. It was nice, easy, mindless. And I liked the way it made me feel.

At the restaurant I felt myself relax even more. George asked me questions about my childhood, my time playing for the U.S. National team, my friendship with Lucas. He was earnest and engaged and interested in every little thing I had to say.

“This is all off the record, right George?” I asked with a smirk over my glass of wine.

“In that case, let me just go ahead and let my editor know I’m canceling my exposé on you,” he teased with a wink, crowding my stomach with more butterflies. He took a bite of his food, watching me carefully. “Glad to know you’re enjoying Richmond. Fucking Kent must be a headache to work with, though.”

My chest tightened, and I was sure George could see my expression completely change. Why did I feel so bothered by his sudden sour tone? He wasn’t exactly wrong; when I first arrived, Roy Kent was fucking headache. We did nothing but argue all the damn time. At best, we’d really only ever been civil. But still…

“Let’s not talk about Roy,” I murmured, fiddling with my fork. “I know you two have this weird thing but… He… We work together, you know? We try to keep things professional.” I cleared my throat, not quite looking at George. “And his Greyhounds have been great to my Whippets since we arrived. So, yeah. Can we not?”

“Hey.” He reached out and touched my free hand. “Sorry. Just, the couple of times I’ve seen you two together, he’s been quite rude to you. But you’re right, the two of you are colleagues. I really respect your professionalism.”

His reassuring smile had me offering a small grin of my own, especially when I looked down at his hand on top of mine. God, it felt so natural, holding hands with George Willows. Just so easy and lovely. I could get used to this, I thought as he gave my hand a squeeze.

I also felt like I could get used to the way he looked at me as we stood in front of my door, with soft eyes and a shy smile. Ask me out again, I mentally implored. Tell me you had a good time and you want to see me again.

He leaned close, eyes flickering to my red lips. “Thanks for a great date,” he murmured, bringing up one hand to cup my face. “Would it be too forward if I…?” He trailed off with raised eyebrows.

My heart fluttered as I closed my eyes and leaned forward to give him his answer. I could feel his smile against my lips and knew he could feel one of my own. It was a small, chaste kiss, one filled with giddiness and anticipation, as if it was just the start of something.

George’s hand lingered on my cheek even after we broke the kiss. “Think we could do this again sometime?”

“Absolutely.” I leaned forward and pressed my lips to his again. “Good night, George.”

“Good night.”

Once my door was closed behind me, I fell to the couch, a content sigh escaping my lips. My first date in goodness knows how long. And it was lovely. Easy, even. And George was wonderful and an absolute gentleman. And the sweet kiss at my front door was something out of a Hallmark movie.

So why the fuck did I fall asleep thinking about Roy Kent and the bottle of scotch we shared?

~

For two more weeks, Roy stayed away. Two. Miserable. Weeks.

He went through the motions. Trained with Jamie. Worked with the Greyhounds at Nelson Road. Hung out with Phoebe. Coached the girls’ football team. Read. Went to yoga.

And the whole time, he thought about her.

They’d glance at each other in the halls, stand on opposite sides of the room when their teams or coaching staffs were together, and both seemed to look a bit sadder at the sound of each other’s voice. Roy’s only consolation was that she looked almost as melancholy as he did.

Almost.

Every now and then, he’d allow himself to glance at her through the shared window between their offices. And sometimes, he’d see her look at her mobile and smile, a little giddy grin that reminded him of the way she’d looked at him the night of the gala and made his heart twist like the braids he sometimes did for Phoebe.

He was thinking of that smile when he sat with Jamie in some pub, silently staring at the pint in front of him as Jamie went on and on about how proud he was of Sam for perfecting a play they’d spent so much of training working on.

“Roy? Roy? ’re you listening?”

Roy gave his head a shake, clearing his throat. “Fuck’d you say?”

Jamie’s pout was full of pity; Roy wanted to punch that look off his fucking face. “Thinkin’ about her, huh?”

Like there was any point in lying. “Just… I dunno. Feel like everything’s so fucked, ya know?” Roy sighed. “Don’t really know what to do.”

“Why don’t you ask her out?”

Roy stared at Jamie for a moment. “Have you paid attention to anything I’ve told you over the last couple of weeks? Or are you actually as stupid as you look?”

“Come on.” Jamie shrugged. “You two never really talked about what happened. Sounds like she thinks it was just a one-night stand. So, ask her on a proper date. Wine an’ dine her! Woo her!” He sipped his pint, savoring the treat his coach’s wallowing had afforded him. “Show her you care about her, for fuck’s sake. Make all this shit worth it. Plus, then if the photos do come out, it’s not a big deal. You’d be a couple, not just some fling. That’s a lot harder to make a scandal out of.”

Fuck. Sometimes, by some miracle worthy of being written by Matthew, Mark, Luke, or John, Jamie Tartt had a good fucking idea.

Of course. Roy’d been so stupid, letting her linger on this idea that that night didn’t mean something to him. Of course, it meant something to him. Hell, it could even mean everything to him if he let his mind wander to those places he’d been avoiding since they first met.

He’d ask her out. He’d take her on a proper date. He’d tell her how he felt. He’d admit to himself how he felt.

Roy Kent might actually get a happy ending for once in his miserable life.

He walked into Nelson Road feeling lighter than he had in a while. During training he was shockingly affable, joking with his team and offering more praise than usual. He even ignored the smug glances Jamie kept shooting him and the wink the striker offered Roy as the Greyhounds hit the showers after a long, long day.

The Whippets were already finished for the day, so, with the Dog Track quiet and nearly empty, he stuck his head into their coaching office, where Bucky was alone, poring over her playbook. With a deep breath, he softly rapped on the wall.

When she glanced over her shoulder, she actually offered him a smile.

“Hiya, Coach,” she greeted with a polite nod. No coldness, no anger, no awkwardness. It wasn’t the enthusiastic welcome he’d hoped for, but it was definitely an improvement.

Roy cleared his throat. “How’re you?”

With a shrug, she closed her book and turned her chair around to face him. “Fine. Yourself?”

“Yeah. Good, good.” He knocked his fists together absently. “Listen, I was wondering if we could talk? I wanted to know-”

The buzzing of her phone interrupted him. “One sec.” She glanced at the screen; there was smile again. “I’ve gotta go.” She stood, tugging her bag over her shoulder. “But, um, maybe we could chat tomorrow? After our run? I’ve gotta catch up on Lust Conquers All.”

Roy’s heart fucking soared. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” was her soft answer as she took a couple steps closer to the door, closer to Roy. “I mean, it’s been a couple of weeks, and nothing’s been published. I think we can risk running in our own weight room, don’t you?”

“Yes. Yeah. Definitely.” For once, Roy didn’t give a shit if he sounded dumb. “We’ll chat tomorrow then.”

She nodded as she passed by him, still grinning. “Good night, Coach.”

“G’night,” he called after her, smiling at her receding figure.

Fuck yes.

Roy returned to his desk, resisting the urge to whistle as he answered a couple of emails and looked over some new plays Nate had left for him. He felt so damn good as he left the Dog Track that he decided to treat himself to a pint, maybe plan how to ask her out.

I really enjoyed having a drink together. Think we could do that again sometime?

Could I take you out to dinner?

Bucky. I really fucking like you. I’d like to take you out. On a real date.

He parked his car and strolled down the sidewalk, words flittering in and out of his head. With a spring in his limp, he nodded in acknowledgement to the people who smiled at him, as opposed to his usual scowl-and-growl. When he turned the corner to head to the pub he had in mind, he stopped dead in his tracks.

She was right there. Sitting at a little patio table of some restaurant, staring in the opposite direction with a lovely, wistful expression, all alone.

Roy perked up. He should go say hi. Maybe he didn’t have to wait until after their run for that chat. He could walk up to her right now and just blurt it out. Fuck waiting. He’d done enough of that. Could I take you on a date sometime? She was probably with Lucas, who wouldn’t mind if Roy stole her away…

As he took a step in her direction, his stupid heart sank.

Because the universe had a personal grudge against Roy Kent, he had to watch as George fucking Willows walked outside holding two glasses. He stopped at that table, where he bent down and kissed her cheek as he sat beside her. She smiled- that same giddy smile- and leaned close to speak to him. The two of them laughed and shared a kiss, looking like the picture of absolute bliss.

Feeling like the biggest idiot in the world, Roy turned on his heel and speed-walked back towards his car. Fucking idiot. Stupid, fucking Roy.

His phone buzzed. With a groan, he pulled it out, figuring it was his sister needing emergency baby-sitting, or Jamie sending him some stupid meme.

Instead, it was a message from Rebecca with a picture attached.

My office. First thing tomorrow.

We need to talk.

Taglist: @optimisticsandwichgladiator@reading-blogs@callmecasey81@ladygrey03@puckyou-forpuckssake@royalestrellas@shineforever19 @rae4725 @burnafter-reading @her-fandom-sanctum @infinetlyforgotten@giggling-sewer-ginger@whataloadofmalarkey@agentstarkid@kingleahhh@tortilla-maria1@geekgirl1996 @amatswimming @meg-ro@spicyraccoonlordking@spaghetti-dad187@needlesthreadandbuttons@elissaaa @imsoluckyeverythingworksoutforme @reverieisaway@djskakakaksjsj-blog@thatonedogwithablog@allthetroubleiveseen@sunderland-6 @netflix-addict @paranormal-is-my-life@jill2629-blog@itsbuzzfeedbitch@pretzelactivist@amieinghigh@kashee-h@beingalive1@mythicalbinicorn@needyomega@kno-way-home@janalustare@sssatorus@its-a-rich-mans-world@confessionsofatotaldramaslut@hesitant-alien33@katie-sheep-111 @bonesbonesetc @seacactusplant@thebookwormlife @dreamscape22 @rae4725 @timelordhunterandmysterysolver @littleesilvia @anonurs @itswhateveripromise

[thecarnivorousmuffinmeta]

what if rosalie and emmett got transported into the places of the couple from into the woods immediately before the witch explains that even they could through magic have a child?

Caveat

Can they, anon?

The witch was lifting a spell she herself had placed on the Baker's father and his line: infertility. This was, in part, likely why she was so certain in using it as a bargaining chip to restore her youth and beauty. Rosalie is infertile because she's a vampire and has no menstrual cycle.

We don't know the extent of the witch's power, but she may not be able to turn a not-human into the human or give it a child.

I also don't know if the Baker and his wife had to be the ones to gather the items themselves so as to undo the curse on the witch. She presumably would have had plenty of chances with others to get them to gather the items, she could have convinced Cinderella to give up her shoe, gone to Jack herself, but she only ever deals with the Baker and his wife. I can't help but think that's not a coincidence and she needed it to be them in order to undo the curse her mother had placed on her (along with, of course, not being able to touch the items herself).

(Not to mention Rosalie and Emmett would be very bewildered and likely not want anything to do with any of this and who is this creepy old woman? and where the fuck are they?)

I just love these isekai asks where people assume people just go along with it and believe everything is possible.

But alright, sure.

Into the Woods We Go

The witch blinks as the Baker and the wife are gone, she really needed them. Shit. Well, there's a new couple here and turns out they want a bouncing baby too. So, she guess that works out. She'll uh, figure something out to get the woman pregnant even though she's clearly a vampire.

She hopes these two will count in her mother's eyes because the Baker is just fucking gone so there's nothing she can do.

Rosalie and Emmett bicker about what's even happening and if they should do this. Rosalie wants nothing to do with it, she doesn't like that weird old woman, and definitely doesn't like her promising impossible things or being a witch. Emmett's the one who notes that, while they're lost anyways, maybe they should go into the woods and try. Better to try than not do anything and spend the rest of their lives not knowing. And they only have to get these four weird things, how had can it be? They're vampires, they can get this done in like two minutes or something.

(Emmett doesn't believe this will happen either, but he knows Rosalie will be upset about this forever if she chooses to do nothing.)

So, they go into the woods. There they come across Jack and his cow.

"Well, that was easy," Emmett says, and rather than attempt to buy the cow with magic beans in his pocket (that he hasn't realized are in his pocket), Emmet just steals the cow by lifting it over his head and running off.

The cow then dies of a heart attack a few minutes early.

"Shit, we've got to find another cow" Emmett says and Rosalie can't even. She's going to... look for the hair or the shoe.

"Isn't that your hair?" Emmett asks but Rosalie points out that her hair is gold, not corn-yellow thank you very much. Also, they're not cutting it. It is not happening. She is barely involved in this venture.

So, they continue on their journey looking for either a corn-yellow blonde, a nice shoe, or a red cape.

And oh look at that, a girl with a red cape. Emmett wastes no time and steals the cape from the very sad Little Red (who barely even realizes what happened).

"Emmett, did you just steal from a little girl?" Rosalie can't believe him, she wants him to give the cape back.

"But baby," Emmett points out.

Rosalie really really hates this but... no, she is not willing to give up the possibility of a child, however small, for a cape. She instead has Emmett throw money at the girl so she can buy a replacement.

This trip is garbage.

Wandering around even longer, they run into Cinderella running away from a ball. "YOINK!" Emmett steals one of her shoes, Cinderella is very upset and can't believe these people. She needs that! Rosalie leaves her a pair of replacement shoes and some money.

She's dreading coming across the blonde whose hair they're going to have to hack off. And sure enough, there's a tower, and there's a lot of blonde hair.

"She won't even notice" - Emmett.

And before Rosalie can stop him, he runs off with a chunk of hair. It won't help the maiden's haircut but Rosalie leaves money anyway.

Now they just need a cow again.

Cue the kerfuffle as the witch reappears and notes the hair is no good, they're going to have to saw off Rosalie's, it's close enough.

"My hair!" Rosalie cries.

"But baby," Emmett points out, and Rosalie acknowledges that she can't give up the possibility of a child for the sake of her beautiful hair. Rosalie cuts her hair.

Now we get two options: it either doesn't work because it's not the Baker and his wife, the hair's not corn-yellow, or some other reason. Or we'll bullshit and say it does.

If it doesn't, they stand there, and Rosalie is so very upset that they did all those things for nothing. "But look on the bright side, Rose, now you know it just wasn't possible" - Emmett

If they do then... well... Rosalie gets a baby but theyr'e still vampires so...

It's not going to end well.

(The kingdom is not terrorized by giants, but Jack and his mother do presumably die in poverty as he's unable to sell Milky White and Little Red is eaten along with her grandmother.)

[domxmarvel]

Red and gold

Masterlist

Pairing: Janai x Female!Reader

Slot: Horns

Since Xadia and the human kingdoms were now at peace,you had spent your time exploring. Eventually you decided to stay at lux aurea and do everything you could to help. During the last two years you spent a lot of time with their queen,who you quickly developed feelings for. But you were too scared to confess,lucky she did before you could. So you were now dating the queen of lux aurea. Over those two years you learned a lot about elves but there was so much you still didn’t know,one of those were the rings that some elves wore around their horns. Some had them and some didn’t,but you just assumed that they were for decoration. Until one day you happen to ask Kazi.

“Why don’t you wear those rings around your horns?”

“Because I’m not married” They looked up at you and the silence said everything “You don’t know? Those rings are like your human wedding rings,except we wear them around our horns” You didn’t know why your next thought was or why you said it outloud without thinking.

“Are there any other wedding customs?” They looked even more confused and in a split second they’re faces turned from confusion to shock.

“Are you going to-”

“Shh,not so loud” Kazi closed the book and stood up.

“Follow me,we have a lot to go over” 

Over the next week Kazi taught you everything about elven wedding ceremonies. But your thoughts kept wandering to the rings,you managed to get the same metal that Janai’s crown was made of,and kept it hidden so she wouldn't see it. You knew you couldn’t make them here,she’d immediately know so you needed to make them somewhere else. You packed your stuff and started thinking about what to say,but you panicked when she caught you packing. 

“Are you leaving?”

“There’s an emergency back home that I have to take care of” You felt bad about lying but you also didn’t want to ruin the surprise. 

“Oh do you need any help?”

“No,it’ll be fine. I should be back in a couple of days,don’t run off with someone else before I get back” She laughed.

“As long as you don’t” She wrapped her arms around your waist,pulling you closer to her. 

“Not unless she’s a sunfire elf named Janai” You laughed before you kissed her,still laughing when you let go. 

***

Three days later you returned having made the rings,with some help from the jewel maker back in your hometown. You made both of them by hand,carving every detail into the metal and adding the wine red gem to the middle. They were finally done and you could head back to Janai. Who welcomed you back with open arms,hugging you as she picked you up off the ground. 

“I missed you”

“I was gone for four days” She rolled her eyes at you “I missed you too. Can we talk somewhere alone” She led you back to her room,your mind wandering to how you’d ask. You were so nervous and she noticed.

“Is something wrong?” She asked as she closed the door to her room,and now you were panicking whether or not you should ask. Looking at her you realized you didn’t make them to abc out now. 

“Nothing’s wrong. But I do have something for you,close your eyes” She did as you asked,you took the box out of your bag. “Put your hands out” You placed the box in her hands. “You can open your eyes now”

“What’s this?”

“It’s a gift for you”

“You didn’t have to get me anything”

“Just open it” Her eyes widened and her mouth hung open.

“Y/N,I love them but you know that-”

“I know,Janai, will you marry me?”

“Yes,I will.” She kissed you before her eyes looked at the rings,trying to take in every detail. “Where did you get these,if I may ask?”

“I made them” Her mouth hung open again,making you laugh.

“Y/N they’re beautiful,thank you” She put them on,smiling at you “How do I look?”

“Perfect,like always” 

[kokomis-writing-pile]

A Warhammer 40k FanFic

Author's note: This is strictly for fun. I have my Warhammer nerd husband proofread and edit my chapters. It may not be 100% lore accurate but I'm not writing a novel. [Chapter Archive]

Chapter 3: Trouble On Neridus

Recovering from his injuries did not take long as he got used to walking, running, jumping, and every other maneuver under the sun again. Reid had built his strength back up from the ashes of his previous battle and right as rain once more. The soldier was punctual when he was called upon by the sororitas that helped him through it eagerly awaiting his role in the Inquisition. Truthfully, he could not wrap his mind around that even after a couple of weeks. It was as if it were just a dream but no, it was reality.

Making his way to the briefing room, he was met with his new team. There was an ogryn, the massive being towering over everyone scratching his head and ruffling his gray-black mohawk. There were two psykers, one that stayed near the team looking eager to please in a very odd style of clothing and another stood farther from the team leaning on a wall with his arms crossed. He looked exhausted but there was not a soldier in sight that escaped exhaustion. Though it could have been the age catching up with him, he did look older than the others that caught Reid’s eye. Of course, he saw Sister Lyra, the Explicator, and a couple more guardsmen. 

“Ah, Reid. Glad you could join us this time. Explicator Renley was about to brief the team,” Lyra called to him as she waved him over. 

The guardsman wandered over and stood silently at Lyra’s side at attention. He listened with vigor itching to get back to what he was born to do and serve their God-Emperor but was immediately shot down when he heard what their assignment was. 

“Something simple, unfortunately,” Renley started. “We need you to visit one of our allied planets and check on supplies, the people- you know, routine check-in, that sort of thing. Lyra, Reid, Boris, and Viktor, you all will be taking this one. As for the rest of you…” 

The Explicator trailed off as the four of them got together and waited to be dismissed. The room had become silent once more and Renley moved everyone on, Reid looked at everyone only knowing Lyra in the group. Not that that was out of the ordinary. Soldiers were quite used to not getting chummy with each other.

“Tiny man recovered well, yes?” the ogryn asked.

Reid nodded. “I suppose I have, yes.”

The older psyker wandered up to them with his hands in his pockets not even giving so much as a hello or introduction. He just wanted to go and be done with it, at least that was what his demeanor said.

Lyra gave Reid a pat on the back leading the team from the briefing room to the hangar in near silence. The only thing coming from any of them was the ogryn, Boris, mumbling to himself no one could understand. It was not until Viktor spoke up telling the brute to quit whatever it was he was doing; that it was annoying. The hangar was not too far from where the briefing room was located on the ship and upon getting there, Lyra was met by her pilot, Moz. They exchanged greetings and loaded up for the ride without another word; straight to the point was Moz’s policy. The ride was long and boring as no one wanted to interact with each other. Viktor kept his eyes closed the whole time, Boris kept looking as if he wanted to have a conversation but would get frustrated before he even had the chance to say anything. Reid and Lyra sat next to each other in silence while she looked over some logs for the inventory they were meant to investigate. Their assignment location was a small agricultural world inhabited by imperial citizens that would often send supplies up to the ship but the shipments had been lacking a bit. It was not uncommon for these things to happen and sending a small group down to check in was not necessarily a bad thing. The people had not sent out a distress call of any sort so it was assumed that they were still functioning.

Once they had reached the planet, they entered the atmosphere and found a place to land close to their desired city. It was more or less rural and less gargantuan buildings given that the majority of the planet was a farm in itself. To have any outlandish architecture would be a waste of ground. Lyra and the team left the ship stepping out into blinding sunlight and warmth. It was a drastic difference from the blood-red skies and dusty winds. The world was a lavish paradise to those who lived and thrived there as trees towered in the sky and fields of green as far as the eye could see, fauna and flora flourishing. 

Lyra led the team toward their destination coming across one of the many cities this planet had. It was nothing fancy but it was an intricate network of houses connected by fortified rock walls and that was only the area above ground. Often the houses above ground housed the inventory, tools, and anything else needed for work and storage. Underground was a bustling city. Today, however, a couple of people were tending to some of the stock and had noticed the soldiers approaching. A hesitant warm welcome left the settler’s lips as they got closer. 

“Welcome, we didn’t expect a visit today. What honor. How can I assist you, Sister?” an older lady asked, looking up at the woman dressed up to her neck in armor.

“We’ve come to check in with your settlement. Tithes have been a little lackluster as of late and we haven’t received any communication about any issues. Is anything the matter?”

“Oh, yes ma’am. I regret to inform you that a lot of our crops have died due to some pests. We are trying our best to accommodate, it’s just proving difficult,” she replied solemnly.

“Pests?” Reid spoke up before seeing Lyra look at him. He went back to being silent before seeing the woman nod. 

“Yes, dear. Apparently, our deterrents haven’t been preventing the pests from eating up the crop this year. Nothing we can’t fix for future crops. It’s just…” she trailed off. “We won’t be able to meet the quota this year, I’m afraid.”

“These pests aren’t…” Viktor started.

“Oh, they’re just the fauna here,” she replied, waving her hand. “There’s been a spike in some of them for the past few months.”

Lyra jotted down what she was told and asked if she could wander around the area to take a look for herself which, of course, the old lady allowed. She was not going to say no regardless, but if it eased their suspicions then by all means. Walking around the area, she took a closer look at the plants seeing the damage from small critters. Surely there had to be a bigger reason. Even a spike in the planet’s fauna should not have been enough of a problem to take out so many crops on a grand scale. She jotted the findings down as well. Turning her head, she could see the old lady giving each of the other teammates a plump piece of produce that fit in two hands. She had given the ogryn three. 

“Ah, you’re too kind to us,” Viktor finally spoke up as he looked at it in his gloved hands. 

“What this?” Boris asked.

“Why, it’s a water sheweatine. A sweet fruit, but we don’t grow much of them. They are usually reserved for nobility,” she answered with a smile. 

When Lyra rejoined them, she was handed one as well. She gave a slight bow to the old woman and looked it over for a moment. It was a dark purple and smelt sweet. Taking a small bite, she gave a gentle hum. Its’ inner flesh was a pink color with different sections and its’ juice was certainly tasty. After watching her take a bite, Boris and Viktor did the same and were delighted to have something other than corpse-starch and recaff to hold them over. Boris licked his fingers, juice getting caught in his beard exclaiming that the taste was delicious, fumbling on the word. Viktor had to agree with him on that note. Reid, however, had paused just staring at it contemplating eating it. Turning away, he removed his mask and took a bite. His whole body froze. Lyra and Viktor stared at the soldier as he scarfed down the fruit and looked at his hands.

“R-Reid? You okay, buddy?” Viktor asked, getting closer to him. 

Reid sniffled and let his hands fall to his sides. “That was the fraggin’ best tastin’ thing I’ve ‘er eaten,” he choked. 

“Are you crying, little man?”

“No! I’ve just. Somethin’ got in my eye, that’s all!”

Lyra and Viktor looked at each other and smiled before the old lady got their attention with a small sack filled with them. “This is for you and your team, Sister. Is there anything else I can assist you with?”

“Thank you, and no I believe that will be all for now. We’ll send a team down to investigate further. Make sure there’s nothing else causing these issues for you all.”

“Very well. I wish you a blessed day, dears.”

Reid, Lyra, Boris, and Viktor wandered around the area some more, taking note of anything out of the ordinary. There was absolutely nothing from what they could gather but there just had to be something else. Such a large portion of crops would not just die due to a fauna spike, at least that is what Lyra thought. Handing a kit to Viktor, she instructed him to gather a sample of the dirt in which the crops grew, the water nearby, and some of the plants to test back onboard, given that her scanner was not picking up anything abnormal at all. Reid offered to take out a small creature to take back with them too or take a blood sample but Lyra shot that idea down fast. Who knew what would happen if they aggravated the fauna on this planet? She did not want to find out without a full group and did not want to jeopardize the locals. Rounding up the team, they met back up with Moz and headed on their way back to the ship to report their findings. Little did they know, they were being watched by beady yellow eyes.

The trip back was a bit more lively as Lyra had to play keep-away with the gifted fruits all the while listening to Boris talk about how good it was and how he could have “eaten a thousand of them.” There was no doubt about that. It was nice seeing the guys lighten up and let their guard down even if it was over something as small as a treat. They just had to remember to harden up once again before getting back to the ship.

Upon their return, the guys exited the craft first and Lyra followed behind looking over the scans she ran while on the way back. Their return had caught the attention of an engineer who had been working on one of the Valkyries. The man tilted his head as he saw them carrying a sack, the ogryn looking inside licking his lips. 

“Hey, big man. Whatcha got there?” he asked, wiping his greasy hands on a rag.

Boris looked at the man. “A shovel,” he replied, holding it up, not realizing he was talking about the sack he carried.

The engineer stared at him for a moment and decided he was not going to bother asking again for it was not his place to question. Shrugging, he went back to his work.

As the others began walking off, Lyra froze for a brief moment before telling the others she was going to report her findings and for them to go do something useful all the while looking at her pad. She carried the kit that had the samples and wandered off, the other three watching her. She looked and sounded so serious that they almost wanted to follow her. 

“Someone or something is poisoning the water supply,” she thought. “Of course. Time to launch an investigation.”

[bbwritesmuchstuff]

Magic and Sunlight

Chapters; 1, 2, 3, 4 (You Are Here)

Sally lent Meg and Apollo proper fleece jackets. Apollo pouting that Percy didn’t have a bow and quiver to give him either. Not surprising considering I’d been in archery class with Percy before and it didn’t go well, to say the least. Apollo looked confused at the word on the jacket, Blofis, but seemed to dismiss it quickly. 

If Sally ever asks, I definitely did not split my cookie with Percy as soon as we were out of sight. Percy grinned as I handed it to him, and Meg called shotgun. Apollo groaned. 

“Just get in the car, Apollo.” I said, getting into the back myself. Apollo seemed to not comprehend that most people didn’t have spare expensive cars since he asked a couple times to follow us in a Maserati or a Lamborghini. I didn’t directly interact with many deities other than my mother very often so I often forgot how out of touch with regular mortal life that a lot of them were. Even my mother was that way and often distant. 

I hated New York traffic. I know it’s not exactly a unique complaint, but still. Apollo looked half ready to be sick from us braking and lurching forward with that flow of traffic. 

“Doesn’t your Prius have flamethrowers?” Apollo demanded. “Lasers? At least some Hephaestian bumper blades? What sort of cheap economy vehicle is this?” 

“You have rides like that on Mount Olympus?” Percy asked as he glanced in the rearview mirror. 

“Most mortals don’t have that sort of stuff attached to their cars.” I explained, “Not unless it’s a military vehicle.” 

“We don’t have traffic jams.” Apollo said. “That, I can promise you.” 

Meg fiddled with her rings. My mind wandered briefly to who Meg’s godly parent could be. Given a few of the things I’d seen her pull off, I guessed some sort of nature deity. However, there had yet to be anything specific enough to narrow it down. I could do a spell to do it, if Meg let me, but it would be a waste of time since we’d be at camp soon. I caught Apollo staring, but he avoided eye contact as soon as he saw that I’d caught him. Meg turned and looked out the rear windshield then spoke before I could question Apollo. 

“At least we’re not being-” 

“Don’t.” Percy and I say at the same time. 

“Don’t say it.” Percy warned. Meg huffed and pouted. 

“You don’t know what I was going to-” 

“You were going to say, ‘At least we’re not being followed,’” Percy said. “That’ll jinx us. Immediately, we’ll notice that we are being followed. Then we’ll end up in a big battle that totals my family car and probably destroys the whole freeway. Then we’ll have to run all the way to camp.” 

Meg’s eyes widened. 

“Can you tell the future?” 

“Don’t need to.” Percy said, sharing a look with me. “We’ve just done this a lot. Besides,” Percy paused and shot Apollo an accusing look, “nobody can tell the future anymore. The Oracle isn’t working.” 

“What Oracle?” Meg asked. Apollo looked shocked. He gaped like he was trying to talk but nothing came out. 

“It still isn’t working?” Apollo asked in a small voice. I shook my head. 

“You didn’t know?” Percy asked, I could hear his irritation rising. “I mean, sure, you’ve been out of it for six months, but this happened on your watch.” 

Apollo looked like he’d swallowed something foul. He looked pale and borderline terrified. 

“I just… I assumed- I hoped this would be taken care of by now.” Apollo said quietly. 

“You mean by demigods,” Percy said sharply, “going on a big quest to reclaim the Oracle of Delphi?” 

“Exactly!” Apollo said, completely oblivious to Percy’s snark. “I suppose Chiron just forgot. I’ll remind him when we get to camp, and-” 

I cut him off. 

“Apollo, we need a prophecy to go on a quest.” I said. “Those are the rules. No prophecy, no quest. So, if we have no access to an Oracle, we can’t go on any quests, so it’s kinda-” 

“A Catch-88.” Apollo sighed. Meg threw a piece of lint at Apollo. 

“It’s a Catch-22.” She corrected him. 

“No,” Apollo said. “This is a Catch-88, which is four times as bad.” 

I gave Apollo an odd look, but dismissed it quickly in favor of my growing worries. It was very likely that Zeus expected Apollo to reclaim his Oracle to get his godhood back, and if the Doors of Death had let out Python along with the others who had gotten out, this was going to be a lot harder than I initially thought. I was starting to think that those idiots in the alley were less of a coincidence than I initially thought. I peeked out the windows nervously and cursed under my breath. 

“Guys,” I said, cutting off the start of Apollo explaining the Oracle of Delphi to Meg. “Those spirits are back and following us again.” 

“What?” Percy asked. I pointed out the back windshield where the shimmering spirits were weaving through traffic. 

“Just once, I’d like an easy commute.” Percy grumbled, “Everybody, hold on. We’re going cross country.” 

I instinctively grabbed the handle on the roof, which my father and I affectionately called the ‘Oh, Shit Handle’. Apollo looked like he was imitating a starfish with his effort to steady himself as Percy weaved through parking lots trying to lose what was chasing us. I grabbed Apollo’s arm to try to help steady him. Would it actually help in an accident? No, not all, but I hoped it was comforting at least. Apollo clutched my wrist in a vice-like grip. 

“Is your plan to avoid a fight by dying in a traffic accident?” He demanded.  

“Ha-ha.” Percy mocked sarcastically. “I’m getting us to the beach. I fight better near water.�� 

“Because Poseidon?” Meg asked. I did my best to keep my eyes on the spirits following us, but Percy’s swerving around didn’t help. Getting enough of a look to identify them was near impossible. It didn’t help that a lot of spirits looked similar and were distinguished by abilities rather than appearance. 

“Yep,” Percy agreed. “That pretty much describes my entire life: Because Poseidon.” 

Meg bounced excitedly. Despite her excitement, I knew this wasn’t going to be pretty either way. Water would help but malicious spirits weren’t easily dealt with. 

“You’re gonna be like Aquaman?” She asked. “Get the fish to fight for you?” 

I groaned and rolled my eyes, but I couldn’t fault her too much for not knowing any better. 

“Thanks,” Percy said, “I haven’t heard enough Aquaman jokes for one lifetime.” 

“I wasn’t joking!” Meg protested. Apollo glanced out the window I was looking through just as a spirit passed through a man crossing the street. The pedestrian immediately collapsed. 

“Ah, I know these spirits!” Apollo cried. “They are… um…” 

“What?” Percy demanded. My brain was running on overdrive. Incorporeal, Apollo’s familiar with them, they have a vendetta, and the man collapses upon contact. It clicked. 

“Nosoi!” I cried. “Plague spirits.” 

“Okay! Great, we know what they are. How do we kill them?” Percy asked. I grimaced. 

“You can’t.” I said. “But I can repel them so we don’t catch a deadly disease.”

[siravalondulac]

ii. actually, helping people is quite nice

a heart so golden, a sun so bright

asoiaf ff | fem!oc centric

summary: elle gets a taste of what she is getting herself into word count: 1781 warnings: death, wounds, blood

masterlist

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Perhaps walking all the way to Sunspear had been a bad idea.

She had no bloody idea where she was, only that everywhere looked the same and she had not encountered a single person in four fucking days. Despite her complicated feelings for Oberyn, she did internally thank him for teaching her how to live off the land.

This wasn’t even the first time something like this had happened to her. Only that last time, the weather had been colder, the ground even trickier, and she had had even less of a goal in mind.

(But just like last time, she was running from the inevitable.)

Elle saw the smoke in the distance at the same time she felt the tug around her heart. Her hand hovered over her chest, while her eyes stared at the cloud. It was too dark and too big to come from a lone hearth. And this realisation coupled with the familiar sensation could only mean…

She ran.

Shouts greeted her, as well as screams. People ran between the houses, hurriedly emptying buckets of water over the flames. The smoke invaded Elle's lungs and blurred her vision.

She coughed as she walked further into the village, desperately trying to figure out what she could do. The heat, the screams, the burning in her eyes threatened to overwhelm her. Her heart pounded loudly in her chest and she did not know how to stop it.

She stumbled over a body laying on the ground. A groan came out of its mouth.

Her disgust at herself threw her back into reality.

It? He was still a person, even if there was a disturbing amount of blood soaking his tunic. This man was suffering - and she was here to help, was she not?

Elle knelt down beside the man and inspected his wounds. A slash to his side, most likely by a sword. Nothing that could not be fixed.

“We need to get you to a healer,” she said to the man.

He groaned again, but his eyes had opened at her words. There was no hope in his face, just defeat and pain.

She quickly looked up. Her gaze wandered across the people running around the street, trying to find someone who could help her.

“Hey!”

Only one man turned his head towards her.

“Could you help me here?” she asked.

“I’m a bit-”

“Please.” Elle tried to put as much despair and conviction in her voice as she could. “Or do you not care what happens to your neighbours?”

The man grimaced but stepped over to her. Together, they were able to heave the injured man up and pull him down the road.

Elle tried her best, but she knew that the other man carried most of the weight. She despised how weak she was. Spears and daggers were children's play for her, climbing and running she could beat anyone who dared challenge her, but bodily strength was her weak point. She could only pray she would never lose her weapons in a fight.

They quickly arrived before a small house. The man pushed the door open.

The inside was completely overrun by people already. Nowhere proper to lie, nowhere proper to sit. The healer - Elle assumed this is what they were, considering their white aprons - were hurriedly running around and tending to the injured.

It was hot, so hot inside. Drops of sweat were already building on her forehead and it had not even been a minute. She needed to get out of here, and fast.

They found a spot on the floor for the man between them.

“Hold on,” Elle said.

She let go of the man's arm, unfastened her heavy cloak, and spread it on the ground, glad to finally be rid of it. The man almost dropped onto it, his face pale as snow.

A healer was quickly beside them, assessing the injury. Elle let them to it and hurriedly followed the other man outside.

“Wait!”

“What?” The man turned to her, a frown clear on his face.

“I want to help.”

“Why would you want to do that?”

“Why would I not? Your village is currently burning to ash, you need every help you can get.”

He rolled his eyes. “Fine. Come with me.”

Luckily, she did not have to get too close to the fires still raging between the houses. The man - and quickly others as well - made her bring water, accompany people to the healers, and hold on to animals before a rope could be found to tie them down in a safer place. One of the cats clung to her even as she wanted to go help someone else, her claws piercing through her clothes. Elle found it adorable, despite knowing full well why she was so scared.

As she went to retrieve more water, something tugged on her shirt. She looked down.

A little girl stood beside her, staring up at her with wide, teary eyes. She could not be much older than Elle when she had left King's Landing.

“Do you know where my mama is?”

She knelt down. “No, I am sorry. But…”

Her gaze wandered around the village. The fires had died down for the most part, and some sort of calm had returned. Any immediate danger had been vanquished.

She looked back at the girl, smiling softly. “How about we search for her together?”

Hand-in-hand, they started walking down the roads.

Elle studied every person they came across, but she knew that the odds of the child's mother still being alive were slim. Of every person in the healer's hut, not many would survive the current day. Not to speak of everyone who had been trapped inside the burning houses.

And then, of course, there was the reason this fire had started in the first place. The wound on the first man could have only been inflicted to him by a sword or a spear. Meaning this village had been attacked by someone. A someone who could have very well taken people with them.

“Do you know where you live around here?” she asked the girl. Her hand was gripping hers so tightly. “Perhaps she is there.”

“They destroyed it,” she whispered.

And something broke inside her upon seeing the empty look in her eyes. No one, especially not a child this young, should experience such horrors. Lords and knights and kings were supposed to protect their people from these things, such was the agreement - live in my lands, pay my taxes, and I will protect you. Yet wars were seemingly more important.

Curse them all to the seven hells.

“Kalina!”

A woman came running towards them, her long black hair waving unbound behind her.

“Mama!”

The girl let go of her hand and ran towards the woman. She jumped into her arms, grabbing tightly onto her.

Elle smiled at the two, even if she could not completely ignore her jealousy. She had never been able to.

The one thing she had always missed in life, the one thing she had always desired so badly, was a mother's love. Sure, Ellaria had done her best to support her and ensure she felt loved, but after what Oberyn had said she could not be sure any of it had been sincere.

She wanted her mother back.

The woman looked at her, seemingly listening to something her daughter was telling her. Elle straightened her back and walked over to them.

“Kalina here tells me you took care of her,” the woman said with a smile.

“Not for as long as she might have needed.”

“Still. I thank you.” She stood up. “I've never seen you around here. Who are you?”

“My name is Elle. I was looking for a place to stay for the night when I happened upon your village.”

The woman eyed her clothing, the ash on her face.

Smilingly, she said, “You can stay with us, as thanks for what you have done today.”

The woman introduced herself as Ivara and was already friendlier than all the people in the last village combined. She drew her a bath, handed her something new to dress in and told her she could keep it. Elle handed her the old clothes from the Night's Watch and told her the same.

The water was cold, but she did not mind. Welcomed it, in fact, especially after all the heat and stress of the day.

She leaned back, only keeping her face over the surface, letting her fingers run through her locks and carefully trying to detangle them. Maybe she would be able to wash them properly again one day. Perhaps when she returned to Sunspear.

Rightening herself in the tub, she stared at her hands. Brown ink ran from her fingertips all the way down her arm. She submerged them in the water, trying to get rid of the strange sensation.

Whether it was the warmer weather, the fire, or the bath, the dye appeared to be a lot less resistant than she had hoped.

She wrung out her hair and brown water flowed down her body. Only a couple more washes, and her natural colour might return in full. How she was supposed to feel about that, she did not know.

Over the following week Elle helped with rebuilding the village. Taking apart the destroyed houses, cleaning the roads, burying the dead.

Upon asking who had attacked them, Ivara sent a few curses to the Gods and declared the entirety of House Lannister would rot in the Seven Hells.

“What were they doing up here?”

“Who knows?” She dropped her wooden planks on the pile. “Maybe they already burnt everything else.”

The goodbyes were not particularly emotional, but the people still thanked her in their own way. They gave her supplies and coin for her journey, and Kalina, who had followed her around during the week, gifted her a crown of flowers. Elle knew it would last no longer than a day, but she appreciated the thought.

This village showed her that the situation in the Riverlands was a lot more dire than she had previously assumed. Meaning she would have to stay a lot longer if she wanted to protect its people.

Perhaps this was a good thing. Perhaps not. But she had enjoyed the last week, despite what had led to it. Helping people was one of the few things that came natural to her.

The open road spread before her, the sun rising slowly over the horizon.

She still had no horse, but she would manage. And she would stay out of danger. Elle had had quite enough of that beyond the Wall.

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