#got a new rose bush very pretty

[greenpurplemylove]

What Lovers Do (PJS)♥️

→ masterlist.

→ pairings: non idol! situationship! jay x female! reader.

synopsis: There was only one thing left to do when two friends finally confess that they like each other after all the endless chasing about and beating around the bush. Though it wasn't like how it traditionally went, like on a bed or in a fancy hotel room. You and Jay knew it would be wasteful to go back to yours or his apartment, not when the view of the beach at 02:00 AM in the morning hits different.

→ genre: friends to lovers! smut, and fluff. -> now playing: Diet Pepsi, Addison Rae/Forrest Gump, Frank Ocean.

-> wc: 5,8k

warnings: SMUT, swearing, car sex, car sex by the beach, dom! jay x sub! slightly switch! reader, slight cockwarming, riding, unprotected sex (wrapeth t bef're thee tapeth t), creampie, fingering, mutual masturbation, mentions of skinny dipping and pet names (baby, pretty girl, darling).

-> A/N: after a season of midterms, a breakup and a series of procrastinations later, I've finally completed the last chapter. good news is y'all don't rly have to read part 1 dan part 2 (but if you want to, I'd say be my guest honestly) to understand what's going on in this story cause this is like smut with very little plot. this is my first smut ever so anyways I'm rly sorry if it isn't perfect, nonetheless I do hope y'all enjoy it though. much love, Cher🫶

♥️

Seeing two people being in denial that they’re actually obsessed with each other is frustrating.

Especially if those two people are practically close friends.

Take you and your friend, Park Jongseong, for example.

You’ve been friends with Park Jongseong since freshman year of college.

Maybe it was due to the fact that your friend groups were practically mushed together and that you’d more often than not end up in the same class he was taking.

With what originally started with strictly exchanging the notes you took during class, slowly melted away into long and deep texts, conversations, even playful arguments about each others pasts and interests.

But what he didn’t know was that you’ve always secretly admired him.

At first you didn’t want to think the admiration you had for him was romantic, but overtime it grew difficult for you to maintain a merely platonic admiration.

He was a nice guy you have to admit, and the fact that he was practically gorgeous made things all the more difficult for you in maintaining that so called ‘platonic’ gaze.

And it didn’t help with the fact that he was such a gentleman to you as well.

Always opened doors for you.

Paying extra attention towards you whenever you needed his help.

And always letting you order first whenever you needed to go somewhere for lunch in between classes.

Even offering to pay for your meals.

It was difficult. Very difficult, for you to not fall for him.

You find yourself looking at him from afar with rose tinted glasses, your day got a little brighter every time the two of you exchanged glances and smiles,

your heart would skip a beat every time his name was mentioned in any given situation,

and most importantly, you wanted to be near him all the time.

Naturally, you grew closer to him.

Overtime it felt strange, how you noticed his smile seemed to linger longer whenever he was looking in to you so deeply,

or how close your bodies were whenever you’d talk to him for an extended period of time.

The questions started to beckon in your head, was this his way of flirting with you?

And to answer that question. Yes, yes it was.

The reason being none other than because he has a crush on you. But being the outwardly cold person that he is, he didn’t wanted to admit that.

Cause there’s a small part of him that was a little scared you wouldn’t feel the same way he did.

He’d look at you from afar and a small smile would creep onto his face.

He would think about how pretty you looked on that day before he fell asleep at night.

And you’d be the first person that comes to his mind the moment he opens his eyes the next morning.

He would pay extra attention to the things you liked and didn’t like. Memorizing your favorite lunch order. Always saving a seat for you next to him.

Always saving an extra gum in his bag because he knows you’d sometimes forget to bring yours to class,

and that he knows you have this bad habit of chewing the cap of your pen in the middle of class whenever you forgot to bring in your gum.

Mind you he also initially wanted to keep things platonic in fear of ruining the bond you’ve pretty much grown into overtime, but it was hard to keep those feelings at bay when you’re always so close to him.

After a while of teasing, lingering smiles, and small flirtatious gestures. You both were still in denial if wether or not the feeling was mutual.

It wasn’t until one drunk night at Sunghoon’s house, where you basically made out and almost had sex with him on Sunghoon’s upstairs couch that made you realize that you both felt the same way about each other.

Well, knowing he didn’t push you away when you were practically sitting on his lap and guiding his hand up your shirt and all.

After that night you both knew you couldn’t just pretend that it never happened,

so, stupidly enough, the two of you kept on teasing each other for a little while.

Hinting bits and pieces of your private lives, purposefully making the other jealous in hopes that the other would confess first because the both of you were stubborn as hell about your feelings.

When the both of you know fully well, you would be down to fuck from dusk to dawn.

It felt like playing a chess game with Jay during those times.

A romantic, for the most parts sexual tension filled game of chess with Jay.

And yet all the games, all the strategies, plans and moves you had all up in your head with Jay has led you here.

Half naked on his lap in his car by the beach at 2 AM, with his lips messily clinging to yours.

Both of your cheeks flushed. Breaths heavy as the windows started to fog. With his hands fondling with your bare breasts.

Your arms clinging onto his shoulders for dear life as your both tongue deep into the kiss.

You both knew at one point it’ll all lead up to this.

But that never stopped either one of you from pushing the boundaries of your ‘friendship’ more and more.

From the longing stares and touches across the hallways to the private moments that had you on the edge of your seat.

All of those moments has led you here, with your body sensually placed on top of his.

“Jay.” you moaned his name softly when you felt his thumb swiping against your hardened nipples as he trailed kisses from your jaw before nipping the back of your ear.

He felt his pants getting tighter by the minute, his dick growing hard at the sound of you moaning his name.

His hands traveled lower and lower down your pants as his palms settled on your ass making you gasp silently, while his mouth travelled down to your neck.

Kissing and sucking on it feverishly as if he was pouring all of his pent up desire to you after all this time.

“So pretty for me y/n.” he whispered against your neck, leaving a light trail of hickeys down your neck as your fingers caressed the back of his hair before trailing to the hem of his shirt.

Sneakily putting your fingers below the hem just to feel his bare skin against the palm of your hand.

You could feel his lips curl into a smirk against your neck as he pulled away, a playful smirk plastered onto his face as he sat up straight.

His hands trailed down to the bottom hem of his shirt but not before your hands replaced what was supposed to be his.

He looked at you surprised by your boldness as you took of his shirt, the muscles on his chest and arms contorting as you did,

feeling the tent that was forming in your panties grow wetter as you discarded his shirt to the side.

The sound of the ocean behind you long blurred into the background as he smiled up at you, caressing your thighs as he watched your every move.

Leaning back onto the chair behind him, your fingers caressed the abdomen of his chest,

feeling his chest rising and falling as his honey like skin emitted an inviting glow under the moonlight.

Your finger trailed lower and lower, from his toned stomach to the buckle of his belt,

lacing your fingers on to it.

You wanted to remove his belt from his pants, that was until his hand held yours, stopping you from going any further.

“I think I can handle that y/n.” he spoke in a sultry tone as he eyed your fingers, caressing them gently before undoing his belt.

Your hands then trailed slowly from the fabric under his belt, to the fabric that covered his prominent bulge.

Purposefully teasing him as you traced your fingers around his bulge.

His breath hitched in his throat as he leaned his head back and sighed, feeling your fingertips undressing his pants.

“I thought couples help take their partners clothes off when they’re gonna have sex?” you murmured as you flashed him a smirk.

“Oh, so we’re a couple now?” he teased, grinning at you flirtatiously.

You sighed in disbelief as you rolled your eyes.

You knew he was the type of person who’d tease from time to time, but you never thought he’d tease you at a time where you were completely vulnerable to him.

“Are you really gonna tease me at a time like this?” you whispered as your lips curl into a small sly smile while your fingers caressed his hair.

He smiled at you before he sat up straight, cupping your cheeks as he captured your lips in his.

Passion surging over you as your hands wrapped around his neck, taking his lips in deeper.

His hands soon trailed down from your body to your hips, giving it a firm squeeze before trailing his fingers to the button of your pants,

unbuttoning it and gently, stripping it off of your body as your purple lacy underwear came into view.

Pulling away from your lips, his eyes soon caught the attention of your undergarments,

pupils dilating as his fingers traced the hem of it, groaning as his eyes rolled back as your hips came down to grind on his clothed cock.

Purple. His favorite color.

Whether you intentionally wore it for him or out of pure coincidence, it made him incredibly harder than he already was before.

So hard that his pants felt uncomfortable against his now fully hardened cock.

But he knew better than to rush this moment like a casual hook up.

This was his crush. The women he’d fawn over since freshman year.

His close friend. Y/N.

He knew what you like and what you didn’t like from the back of his head,

from all the times you’ve told him stories about your casual hook ups every now and then.

He’d be lying to himself if he said he didn’t go home most nights feeling jealous of how other guys could touch you so undeservingly,

at other nights he spent dreaming of how much he could fuck you better than any other guy,

and at some nights the jealousy and all the pent up feelings he had for you brewed to such intensity that he had no other option than to fist his cock in the shower,

thinking about fucking you all to himself.

And here you finally were, on top of him; your hands gripping onto his shoulders, your cheeks flushed as you turned away rather shyly,

your bare breasts all in display for him and your soaked pussy just inches away from his clothed cock.

All for himself.

It was like a wet dream come true to him.

Lust dipped into his pupils as he caressed the band of your panties,

staring in awe at the lacy fabric at hand before setting the band aside, revealing your already drenched cunt.

He groaned at the sight of it. Wanting nothing more than to stuff your pussy full of his cock.

Feeling his dick twitch uncomfortably in his slacks, he lifted his hips as he stripped down his trousers,

feeling himself grow impatient at the sight of your slick glisten, barely an inch from his thighs.

Leaving his pants bare on the floor of his backseat before dipping his fingers in between your drenched folds.

You sighed and bit your lip as a response. Turning away rather shyly.

His fingers soon laced on to your chin, forcing you to look at him.

It felt like time had slowed as he looked at you, his mouth opened, his lips puffy, and his gaze intense as he eyed you lustfully.

He had wanted, yearned for you even for so long, and now you were finally his.

There was nothing more he could’ve asked for in this moment.

He eyed your expression as he continued rubbing your folds, eyes closed and lips swollen from all the kissing and bitting,

he gradually slid his middle finger in back and forth, but not enough to satisfy how much you wanted him to touch you.

“Jay, please,” you exhaled as you eyed the motion of his fingers, holding onto the back of the front seat for support.

He caressed you so sensually, feeling the pleasure surging at the pit of your stomach,

it drove you almost insane on top of him. “don’t tease me.”

“I won’t baby.” he cooed as his other fingers moved from your chin to your hips,

his thumb rubbing circles on your clit as your mouth opened in pleasure.

The new nickname felt foreign to your ears, but nonetheless it made your pussy throb just for him.

“Jay,” you moaned lowly, gripping onto his arm.

Dipping his finger into you, you rolled your eyes back and bit your bottom lip, gently tugging on his hair,

feeling yourself melting into his touch as your hips thrusted slowly, almost in sync with the movement of his fingers.

He sighed, leaning his head back against the seat as his eyes rolled to the back of his head, feeling his cock twitch at the sight.

His fingers went in and out deep inside you, curling at you in all the right spots as the band of your panties grew wet from your slick cascading down his fingers.

Your face flushed, hips circling his fingers like a pretty doll as he looked at how drenched his finger were from slipping in and out of your walls.

He smirked up at you, enjoy seeing his effect on you.

It made him feel in control and powerful, subtly feeding his ego,

taking pride in how easy it was to have you squirming around his fingers.

Lifting his back towards you, pressing your lips onto his into a clingy hot mess of a kiss.

Slipping another finger inside of you, you moaned into the kiss as he used it as an opportunity to slip his tongue inside of your mouth, never giving you a moments rest.

Feeling your hardened nipples softly grazing against his collarbones, he groaned into the kiss adding to the sensation as your hips moved clockwise against his thumb on your clit.

Kissing you oh so passionately, you tugged on his hair before pulling away from your lips, a string of saliva connecting your tongues.

You were rilled up, your soft messy thrust turned precise and angled, almost as if you were waiting for the right moment to return the favor.

And you did so, as you laced your fingers onto the band of his boxers before beckoning him to lift his hips.

He raised an eyebrow at you as the tips of his lips curled, eyeing you curiously as he removed his fingers from your throbbing cunt making you whine silently,

missing the feeling of his fingers around you already as he gripped your waist.

Lifting his hips, he lets you slip your fingers onto the band of his boxers before pulling them down,

just enough to let his hardened cock sprung free from constraint.

Your eyes trailed from tip to the base of his cock, eyes dazed and mouth dry.

The mushroom tip of his dick flushed. A single thick vein trickled down from the bridge to the base of his cock.

He was definitely big.

Not the biggest you’ve ever seen, but he was definitely big enough to have your stomach doing backflips.

All the excitement and nervous tension trickled down onto your cunt, feeling the throbbing sensation swell as you held your breath in for a moment.

Licking your lips at the sight of it, you continued to strip down his pants until they were well past his ankles as he threw them off to the side.

“Like what you see?” he smirked up at you as he firmly held your waist.

“Don’t get cocky Jongseong.” you teased back, a smile creeped onto your face as you leaned closer to him before capturing your lips onto his.

He gripped your hair gently as he leaned your head to the side, deepening the kiss.

Your hands were all over his body, caressing his toned chest and washboard abs as your fingers trailed lower and lower while he sneaks his tongue back into your mouth,

letting out a groan as your thumb caressed dangerously close to the base of his cock.

The kiss soon grew rough and passionate as your tongues intertwined, his shaft grazing against your clit,

pulsating into a frenzy as his hands groped your ass, kneading them roughly all the while his nails were digging into your skin, making your breath hitch at your throat.

“Y/n.” he moaned out as he pulled away from you, feeling the pleasure coursing through out his body.

Rolling his eyes and throwing his head back onto the seat as he watched you, grinding your soaked folds onto his length.

His tip grew red as precum started to leak from his shaft.

“Shit.” he cursed lowly to himself as he eyed the sight in front of him hungrily.

The view in front of him was better than any wet dream he’s ever had of you.

Your fingers pressed against his cock as you grinded your folds against his dick.

Your slick wetting the bridge of his cock as you grind on him up and down, your other hand gripping onto his thigh for dear life as you balanced yourself on top of him.

You were insatiable.

He knew sex wasn’t a new thing for you, but never in his wildest dreams he’d see you like this with his own eyes.

A flushed mess, eyes closed, your bottom lip tucked as you held back your moans while you grind your folds against his cock,

holding yourself back from sinking fully onto his dick when he knows you so desperately want to.

So sweet yet so sinful, your moans and movements were a lingering sugar like addiction to him as he watches you slowly lose yourself on his cock.

And he hasn’t even put his dick inside you yet.

“Tell me what you want.” he whispered as his nails dug into your waist, hands moving in sync with the movement of your hips, guiding it gently as you swayed your hips in a rhythmic pace against his cock.

Your vision grew hazy as you looked at him, blinking once as your eyes were instantly set on his,

his gaze spilling with lust and desire as he looked at you through his hooded eyelids, face flushed,

his lips pink and plump as they formed an ‘o’ shape, exhaling breathlessly as he eyed you so intensely.

His fingers soon replaced yours, holding back his length against your pussy,

watching you soak the bridge of his cock with your throbbing cunt.

You couldn’t take the teasing you inflicted on him anymore, you wanted him inside of you.

You wanted, needed to feel his dick pulsating inside of you.

You needed him.

“Jongseong, please, I wanna ride your dick.” you whined breathlessly as you continued to grind on him, knowing you still wanted to be good for him despite your desperation.

He cursed at himself, your words stripped him bare into utter desire as his fingers laced on to the band of your panties,

stripping them off your body before shoving them to the side as every patience he had in his body melted away into only anticipation, lust and desire.

“Ride me then y/n,” he spoke in a sultry tone as he looked at you through his half lidded eyes, while his hand grasped onto the base of his shaft,

angling his tip onto your entrance, “I’m all yours.”

Goosebumps erupt in your skin as he spoke those words, electrifying the feeling in your stomach as you positioned his tip at your entrance,

lifting your hips, you planted your forehead against his as you slowly started sinking down onto his cock.

Your eyes screwed shut and your mouth hung loose at the sensation as he did the same.

It was right then and there you realized that you’ve underestimated how big he was from the outside as his cock filled you to the brim of your walls.

Stretching you out oh so heavenly as he caressed the sides of your body as an attempt to sooth you while you adjusted yourself to his length.

“Shit.” you cursed as your eyes rolled back and nails dug onto his back.

“Holy fuck, you’re taking me so good y/n.” he spoke as his hands trailed down onto your waist, eyes rolling back and mouth opened the moment you started circling your hips around his dick.

Heavy breaths and strings of moans fogged the windows as you started to slowly bounce on his cock.

His dick filling you up to the brim every time you sank down fully onto him.

The way he was stretching you out felt so heavenly, you wanted more of it. You wanted more of him.

“Shit you’re big.” you whispered in between your moans as you buried your face on the crook of his neck.

The complement fueled his ego as he smirked with pride before being cut short as he groaned, feeling you starting to clamp down on his dick.

The hands that was once your waist, trailed down onto your ass as he gripped them gently making you let out a loud moan,

as his hands started to match with the rhythm of your hips.

His cock twitched at the feeling of your drenched velvety walls soaking his dick. Feeling your slick dripping down his balls.

“Holy shit Jay fuck.” you leaned your head back as your eyes rolled back,

His head dipped down at the sight of your pussy sinking down onto his dick as you lifted your hips,

revealing the sight of his drenched cock before taking him in you again rather eagerly.

“Shit, you feel so fucking good.” he groaned as he fondled with your ass making you moan his name as you continued taking in his dick like it was your last.

Where have you been all his life?

How could he have been stupid enough to not confess his feelings sooner?

A little part of him can only swirl in regret as he watches you bounce on his cock. Flushed. Dazed. And fueled with lust.

Wishing he could’ve pursued you sooner, knowing how good your slick walls felt wrapped around his dick.

“Look at me.” he whispered as you wince onto his shoulders from the overwhelming feeling of his dick stretching your walls,

picking up your pace as you moaned his name making him sigh as he relished himself on the overwhelming pleasure.

He cursed to himself before gently cupping his hand onto your cheek, forcing you to look at him.

“Look at me y/n.” he whispered a little louder as you looked at his hooded eyes.

Holy fuck he’s never looked so hot.

The strands of his hair laced with sweat as his eyes pierced through them like a knife through a curtain, looking into you like you were his favorite pornstar.

His mouth forming an ‘o’ shape as groans, murmurs and profanities slipped pass his lips as you were bouncing on his dick like there was no tomorrow.

He leaned his head back against the seat, bitting his lips as he feels your slick dripping down his balls.

The occasional ‘fuck’s and ‘holy shit’s slipped pass your lips as you rolled your eyes back, head leaned back while your palms were pressed against his toned chest.

The feeling of his length filling you in and out hits you like a tidal wave as you feel the knot in your stomach tighten.

His hands moved to caress the sides of your body, eyeing you lustfully. “So pretty for me,”

“so fucking pretty for me.” he groaned as he fondled your breasts making you moan his name rather loudly at the already overwhelming pleasure.

Your walls clenched around him as your thrusts started to fall out of rhythm, turning sloppier by the second as your sigh and moans grew heavier.

“Tired y/n?” he asked as he cupped your cheek, receiving a weak nod from you as you bit your lip.

“That’s alright baby, I’ll take it from here.” he spoke softly as his fingers trailed to your hips, guiding you to spread your legs a little wider across the seat as you leaned forward,

feeling your chest pressed against his and his lips lingering over your ear, he started kissing and sucking on your neck,

making you close your eyes in pleasure as you succumb to the feeling of his tongue lapping against your neck.

A string of moans and profanities lingered from your lips as you felt him thrusting upwards into your pussy in a slow rhythmic pace.

You feel the air around you grew impossibly thicker as you breathed heavily.

His name slipped from your lips like a mantra, feeling his cock graze near your spot as he place open-mouth kisses against your collarbone and your fingers gripped onto his shoulders for dear life as the sound of the ocean waves creeped onto the back of your ear.

You let out a loud moan as you felt his thrusts grazed onto your spot, your hand that was on his shoulder slitted upwards onto his scalp, tugging on his hair gently as he moaned your name.

“Fuck, Jay, right there.” you moaned quietly into his ear as a small smirk creeped onto his face.

“Right there huh?” he spoke lowly in a playful, almost teasing tone. Gripping onto your hips so tightly as he thrusted onto your spot repeatedly making you cling onto his shoulder,

whimpers and loud moans of his name being the only thing leaving your lips as you no longer cared about the world outside of his car.

Though it was unlikely at this hour, if someone were to catch a glimpse of his car, they would’ve caught on to what was going on inside pretty quickly.

The car was shaking, it was almost in the middle of nowhere and the windows were fogged from the inside shut, covering the both of you from sight.

Though the both of you didn’t seem to care anyways. Too lost in each others presence to care about the world moving along outside of your own.

You nodded as you bit your lip, earning a groan from him as he leaned his head back onto the seat, fondling your ass as profanities slipped pass your lips.

“Shit, Jay!” you cursed as his thrusts grew rougher, hitting your spot over and over again, feeling the knot in your stomach grew impossibly tighter as he fucked you harder.

“Fuck y/n, you feel so good.” he moaned, feeling his grip on your hips tighten as you were certain that there would be bruises afterwards.

“Fuck, Jay.” you repeated his name as your nails tugged onto the blades of his shoulders. Feeling yourself growing closer to your high.

His sharp gaze pierced through the strands of his hair as his mouth hung opened and his eyebrows furrowed, completely lost in the feeling of chasing his own high.

“Tell me what you want.” he groaned lowly as his lips ghosted over your ear. The tone of his voice grew desperate and needy, almost whiny as he felt himself inching closer to his orgasm.

His words were only met with your moans and whines as he felt himself left unsatisfied.

You gasped as you felt his hand suddenly coming down onto your ass rather harshly, feeling your slick drip further down the base of his cock as a result.

“I said, tell me.” he reprimanded as his hand came down onto your ass again, but this time in between his sentences.

You feel yourself becoming flustered at his words, almost too shy to answer his lewd request.

It wasn’t until you felt his dick completely leaving your cunt that made you widen your eyes.

Whining at the loss of your orgasm.

All of a sudden, his lips latched onto your neck as he started sucking and bitting rather harshly making you let out a whine.

“Jay, don’t-” you whined as you tried to position his cock at your entrance, until his hands gripped your hips, completely halting you from reaching your high.

“I’m not letting you,” he whispered in your ear as he licked a stripe up your neck making you let out a moan. “if you don’t tell me what you want.”

At this point you were desperate. Almost too desperate to reach your high. You were willing to do whatever he wanted, just so that you can cum on his dick.

“Shit, I want you Jay.” you whispered as you caressed his toned abs, resulting in him letting out a groan.

You let out a whine as you felt his thumb caressing your slit, fueling the knot in your stomach that was bound to snap at any given moment.

“Please, wanna cum on your dick.” you practically begged, succumbing yourself to his touch.

A smirk plastered on his face as he looked up at you from your neck before positioning his cock at your entrance.

A moan left your lips as you felt his hands guiding your hips to bounce on his cock.

“Tell me again y/n, what do you want?” he asked as you moaned out his name, feeling his cock thrusting into you deeper as he synced his thrusts with your bounces.

Circling your clit faster, hitting your spot rougher and deeper, that you can only moan out in pleasure and desperation.

“Wanna cum, fuck, wanna cum on your dick Jay, please.” you whined as your high came closer and closer with each given thrust and bounce of your hips.

You yelped as his thrust grew faster, animalistic almost. His eyebrows knitted in concentration as his mouth hung opened and his eyes closed shut,

too focused on getting you to cum, too focused on the feeling of how good your pussy was clenching around his dick.

“Shit Jay, gonna cum, wanna cum on your dick.” so close, you felt so close to reaching your high as the knot in your stomach was bound to snap at any moment.

“Cum for me, cum for me y/n.” his words were your undoing. Your mouth hung opened as you feel your orgasm hitting you like a tidal wave of pleasure.

Your head leaned back as you moaned out his name, back arching at the intensity of the feeling as your bounces grew sloppier and sloppier.

He sighed as he pulled himself out of you before pumping his dick in front of you, trying to reach his own orgasm.

You didn’t know what came over you as you’re hand swiped across the foggy glass before pinning both of his arms behind his head,

leaving him to look at you speechless as one of your hands trailed down onto his cock and you positioned him on top of your entrance.

”Fuck y/n, what are you doing?” he asked as he looked at you bewildered, you bend down onto his ear as you whispered to him sensually.

“Want you to cum inside me.” he can only moan at your words as his chest breathed heavily. He smiled tiredly as he looked at you.

This was definitely better than any wet dream he’s ever had of you.

"Shit y/n are you sure?" he asked as he raised his eyebrows at you, his eyes widening, second guessing your actions.

"I don't want you to feel like I'm forcing you to do any-" his words were then cut off by your lips as you closed the distance between your lips and his in abandon.

"I want you to." you spoke as you pulled away, smiling softly at him making him sigh, a grin plastered on to his face.

“Go on then, don't let me stop you any longer.” he spoke softly as he moaned, eyes rolling back as he feels you sinking down onto him once more.

Your hand was still pinning his hands down as you started bouncing on his dick faster as he relished on the feeling of your pussy clenching on his dick.

“Oh fuck y/n I’m gonna cum.” he moaned out as his eyebrows furrowed. “Fuck wanna paint your fucking insides so fucking bad.”

You felt so fucking incredible around him. Clenching around him in all the right places with his dick buried into your hilt.

His eyebrows knitted at the sensation. Already so close to his edge.

The feeling of you alone could make him cum.

“Cum in me then, give it to me.” The way you were already pinning him down and the way you were riding him so good was enough to make him oh so close to reaching his high,

but your words sent him over the edge as his back arched and his thrusts met your bounces.

You moaned his name rather loudly as you felt his cum filing up your pussy.

A string of curses and moans followed as you both rode out his high.

The thrusts that were once harsh and rough, soon turned sloppy as you felt his cum painting your walls.

“Shit.” you cursed as you breathed heavily, finally spent.

You settled on his lap for a moment before slipping yourself out of him, his arms guiding you to lay on top of him comfortably.

Your heavy breathes mingled with each other as he snook a glance at your cunt. You sighed as he guided you to lean back, exposing your pussy to him.

“Fuck.” he cursed as he saw a bit of his cum oozing out of you.

Using his thumb he pushed back the cum back into you, a small sigh left your lips as he did so.

“Wouldn’t want that to go to waste.” he spoke as he smiled at you. You smiled back at him as the both of you started to chuckle at your disheveled states.

“You look handsome.” you spoke as you pushed some of the strands of hair on his forehead, before cupping his cheeks as he chuckled,

the blush on his face prominent as ever post-sex.

“You look beautiful y/n.” he smiled as he hugged your waist earning a giggle from you, before taking your lips in his as the kiss soon melted into passion.

[yourgentlegirlfriend]

I dont know if your request is still open, but if it is can you make a young reader(maybe 25-26) and Re6 Leon, with reader as his new neighbour? Maybe with reader baking a "nice to meet you" cake or pie and give it to Leon after he came from a mission?

Thank you very much 😘

HI! i loved this and has to write it- i added my own twist to it and am TOTALLY thinking about writing a part two, depends on what you guys think <3

gn! younger neighbor reader x Re6 older leon

DISCLAIMER: This is an 18+ blog! If you are underaged or don’t have an age indicator in your bio, please don’t interact!

Warnings: none actually- yet. but it does switch between reader and leon perspective it should be easy to catch onto

word count: 1,141

“Get! Go!”

You yelled at the group of kids walking toward your neighbor's abandoned house. A sigh leaves your lips as you water the flower bushes in your front yard. Your eyes scanned his yard, frowning at the dead grass and bushes. You look around for a few seconds before you walk over to your hose, filling up your watering pot and carrying the heavy bucket over to his dead lawn. Your hand on your hip as you watered his dead flower bush, your hose that you had dragged with all your light watering at his grass. You’ve never once met him. He comes and goes so frequently that this is what happens to his yard. A dead lawn can make anyone spiral into a depression. You did this same thing every day for almost a month, waking up bright and early to care for his plants. This morning was supposed to be no different, coming home from your graveyard shift at the diner, the sun barely rising. Your hand reaches down to turn on your hose, but your movements are abruptly stopped when your head turns to his house, actually seeing a car in the driveway and the kitchen light dimly lighting through his blinds.

—————

Leon’s body was sore. And mentally, he was too, his eyes barely open as he drove down the street, his fingers impatiently tapping at his steering wheel. He couldn’t wait to lay down on a bed or even take a shower- did he even pre-pay his bills? The negative thoughts overwhelmed him as he pulled into his driveway, sighing as he stared at the garage door. Pulling his keys from the ignition. He stepped out of his car, admiring the soft blue sky. When his foot hit the grass, his eyebrows rose in confusion, looking down to see the beautiful green. Then he saw the bushes. He walked around the small perimeter, noticing the hose lying at the edge of his grass. He followed it slowly to see it led directly to your house. A soft “hm” left his lips as he walked up his porch steps, pushing through his front door.

————-

You couldn’t sleep- of course, you couldn’t. Your black work shirt is covered in flour. Since you got home, you’ve been working on making the best apple pie you’ve ever made. Your fingers were sticky from the homemade filling. After scrubbing your hands for the sixth time, you squeal in excitement as the timer goes off, pushing the oven mitts onto your hands as you pull it open, being smacked in the face with slight smoke.

“Perfect..”

You whisper as you lay the pie on the counter, your nail scraping over the crust. You hoped he liked apple pie or just pie in general. What if he hates sweets? You shake your head free from negative thoughts as you pull new jeans on and a pretty shirt to go perfectly. Swiping on your peach chapstick. You take a deep breath as you look in the mirror, looking down at your watch to see it is eight already. It was super early- maybe he wasn’t even awake. You groan to yourself as you pick up the pie, smiling at the small amount of powdered sugar on top. You walk down your driveway and the sidewalk. Your eyes scan the grass you nursed to health. When did you get to the front door? You stared at the pretty auburn wood, moving the pie against your right arm as you reached for the doorbell, pressing your finger against it softly. Twelve seconds, fuck, he’s asleep. Your body shifts on your feet as you sigh in defeat, turning and walking down the first step before the door creaks behind you.

“Can I help you?”

The deep voice bounces through your brain as your footsteps back, your body turning to him—a kind smile tugging at your lips as you hold the pie out.

“Hi, I'm your neighbor- I haven’t noticed your home in forever, and I don’t think I’ve ever introduced myself..”

Leon’s eyes scanned your face, his eyes dancing over your lips and then down at your pie. God did he love pie. He meant to introduce himself, his mouth opening to speak but-

“You’re the one who’s been watering my lawn?”

You blinked at Leon, confused, as you stepped back a bit before slowly nodding, looking back at the healthy grass.

“Well, yes- My garden is as perfect as I wanted it to be, and I thought it would be a kind gesture..”

Leon’s arm leaned against the door frame, a slight smirk tugging at his lips. He looked exhausted, poor thing. He pushed himself off the frame, opening the door wider for you.

“Please, come in.”

You were surprised; you didn’t think he would speak to you. You thanked him quietly before you stepped into his door, looking around the house. Simple, no pictures on the walls, simple kitchen with essential appliances. You laid the pie on his counter before you turned to him, that gentle smile still on your face.

“It’s homemade. Hope you like apple.”

You speak as Leon walks to the kitchen, standing a few feet from you before he puts his hand out.

“Leon, and you?”

“Y/N, It's really nice to meet you finally.”

—————

Beautiful. Beautiful smile beautiful presence. Leon has always had to train himself not to see the evil in people automatically. How could he say no to you? Standing pretty on his porch as if he didn’t watch you baking in your wide-open kitchen window for almost three hours. He reached for his wallet, pulling out a couple hundred in cash, reaching his hand out to you.

“For the trouble of my lawn.”

Your laugh echoed throughout his kitchen as you shook your head, refusing to accept his money.

“Leon, I took care of your lawn as a form of basic human kindness. It was a great distraction for me. I respectfully decline.”

Leon stared at you, his eyes blinking in confusion as he shoved his wallet back into his pocket.

“Here. This is my number. When you know you’re going out of town for work or anything, give me a call or just knock on my door. I’ll clean for you.”

You nodded your head as you wrote down your number on the small notepad stuck to his fridge. You walked past him, waving your hand.

“Bye, Leon.”

———————

It was the best pie he had ever had. Never has he finished half a pie in a single day. He could never sleep after coming home from missions; his body slumped on the couch as he peered out the window, dreading the disappointment in his chest at the sight of your car still being gone. But like magic, you pulled into your driveway. Maybe he liked the simple things in life, the simple things being you. He leaned over, his eyes switching the view to your still-open kitchen window, seeing you throw your purse onto the counter. He hummed to himself as he reached for his phone, dialing your number. Watching you smile as you reached for the phone, pressing it to your ear, following your lips as your voice echoed through his phone.

“Hello?”

Sweet voice.

“It’s me. I just wanted to thank you sincerely for the pie. It's definitely the best pie I've ever had.”

Leon chuckled as he stood up, tilting his phone as he held it to his ear with his shoulder.

“I’m glad you enjoyed it, I'm a great cook, and I can make you whatever cake you want.”

Leon’s head nodded as he leaned against his counter.

“Do you want to catch dinner sometime?”

He wished he could see your surprised reaction from his position on the couch, but your stuttering spoke volume.

“If you want to come over tonight- I can definitely make you something really good.”

Leon smiled as he walked to his bathroom, looking in the mirror.

“You this sweet to every guy? Or are you just being nice because I'm old?”

Leon teased as he pushed his way out of his bathroom and to his room.

“Oh, Leon, stop it. I do respect my elders, though..”

You joked, your giggle making his heart race as he looked for a somewhat lovely shirt.

“Nine? I’ll start cooking now.”

Leon tilted back, looking out his bedroom window. to see you digging through your fridge, a smile growing as he nodded.

“Nine is perfect, I’ll be right over.”

[ccscocoapuffs]

Can you do Jimmy Uso NSFW Alphabet?

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex?) Jimmy will lift you up and carry you to the bathroom and sit you down while he runs you a warm bath, once you're in the bath he will wash your hair for you, take a rag and gentle clean your back and shoulders, and gently caress your hair as he talks to you about random stuff to really just ground you after a big orgasm.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s) Jimmy likes his smile the most, he believes that it makes him seem charming and of course the first time he saw you he couldn't help but smile, so he associates it with one of his favorite memories. That memory in question is of course the first moment he saw you and realized that you were gonna be all his. Now don't worry Jimmy of course loves your ass, however his favorite is actually your hands compared to anything else. He adores them for so many different reasons. He loves the way the look inside of his hands, the way the rub your clit for some more friction while he fucks you, and even the way they look wrapped around his cock when you suck his dick.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically) Jimmy prefers to cum inside your mouth more than anywhere. He loves watching you swallow all of him down while you moan at how he tastes. He has a thing for cream pies too, though I feel as though he only will do this if, you are down for it too and you're on birth control. (he wants to wait till you are 1000% sure you want kids)

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs) 100% brags about you to coworkers sometimes, not even in a sexual way. Jimmy while be sitting in the bloodline room talking to his family about how you are doing and say stuff like "She's one bad bitch, Uce, I got her all to myself though, you know what I mean?" Anything to let anyone know he has you and you're his girl.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?) Jimmy knows what he is doing, yet with new partners he takes the learning approach. Jimmy will take the time to take note of the things that make you squirm more than others and things you try and don't like. He takes the time to really know his partner, hence why his experience comes from the place of learning each individual he has been with.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying) He actually really likes missionary, he likes that he can see your face and hear you clearly while he fucks you. He also loves the fact that he can brush the hair outta your eyes and tell you things like "You're so fucking beautiful, I gonna make you cum, baby".

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.) Little bit of both. Jimmy likes being able to have a serious romantic time with you as well as being able to see you smile and laugh while you two have some alone time together. That being said, his sense of humor can be completely random leading to him cracking a random joke while he is inside you.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.) Jimmy has dark brown hair that has slight curl to it that he keeps pretty much shaved to the point that it's just enough to have a bush like appearance but not cause you to joke on them if you're sucking on him.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect) He can be very romantic, especially on a special occasion or when he hasn't got to see you for a bit while he was away for a show. Once when he was away for a week for wrestlemania, he snuck back in the house while you were gone, set up dinner for you, rose petals on the bed, candles, and of course a few gifts for his baby. He spoils you completely, then proceeds to make you fall apart on his dick.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon) He will occasionally but not that often. He prefers when you are either doing it for him or when he actually can fuck you. I fyou ask him if he ever masturbates he would say "Why?, You feel better all wrapped around me"

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks) Body Worship Praise (Giving) Slight Marking Clothing Fetish (Lace or leather, he likes both on you)

L = Location (favorite places to do the do) He loves the bedroom itself alot, just because of the privacy and the comfortability to it. However, on one of the many risky and fun nights where you two were celebrating one of his wins, you had sex on the balcony of a hotel and that instantly became a favorite of his.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going) Jimmy gets turned on when you wear something special to try and get his attention. As an example for the hall of fame ceremony, you wore a black and red leather dress and it drove him wild all night seeing you in it. Same thing applies for when you wear lingerie for something like his birthday or a special holiday.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs) Jimmy doesn't really like stuff that's a bit too much for him. He doesn't get the appeal being things that sadism or masochism. He just isn't sure why anybody wants to be hurt during sex to be aroused. He mostly feels this way because he gets hurt at work pretty much everyday and sex is his time to really get into the feeling of having his girl with him and feeling satisfaction.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.) Jimmy likes receiving the most but that doesn't mean he won't give. He just prefers to make you cum on his dick instead. As for his skills, he has a damn gift and doesn't even know it, he usually does this one thing with his tongue where he sucks and swirls your clit at the same time and it makes you cum all the time on his face.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.) Jimmy is kinda in the middle with pace, he likes sensual for sure though. He likes being able to relish in the feeling of a intimate ace with you but is 100% down for some rough and fast sex if you want it. He leans more towards the faster and rougher side of things after a few celebratory drinks from earlier in the night.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.) He doesn't really like quickies. He likes taking his time with you and making the most of the moments you two share and he doesn't see that being able to be accomplished within a quickie.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.) Don't let some of the previous answers fool you, he is a risky motherfucker. He likes having sex in rather interesting places when it's just the two of you. As previously mentioned once it happened on the balcony, another time in the pool, kitchen table. He likes the risky feeling of it even though he knows it's just you two in the house or hotel room.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?) Usually about 2 or 3 rounds, it depends on his mood really and how he feels. He cums very hard usually and it's kinda draining for him, hence why two is more where he leans with things. Don't worry though you'll have however many orgasms you or him want you to have. He does the absolute most to make sure you are well spent afterwards.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?) He owns a few more than you would expect. He has a few silky blindfolds for you, some softer handcuffs (Not the pink fuzzy ones cause those make him laugh to much cause of how corny they make him feel), a few vibrators, and a few butt plugs. He uses all of these on you, except for one toy he keeps hidden from you that he isn't sure if he's ready to ask you about using yet. A pink collar and leash.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease) He teases a fairly decent amount. He wants to get you riled up but doesn't wanna have you so needy you're upset, if that makes sense. He likes giving you the things you want, including himself if that's what you're needy for.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.) He isn't extremely loud but he is vocal about how he feels. "Fuck, baby, that's so fucking good" or "Ohhh honey, right there, suck on it a little more, mama"

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character) He adores having music play while you two fuck, it makes him feel like the mood is set perfectly for what he is going for. Though sometimes he will play the most random shit.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes) Jimmy is about 8 inches in length, light pink tip, and has a small vein on the underside of his dick.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?) Not super high but high enough to fuck a few times a week, if that makes sense.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards) It takes a little while for him to fall asleep considering that he wants to make sure you get your bath, you're comfortable, and after you're asleep is when he will start to doze off. BONUS HEADCANON: Pet names he has for you include: mama, baby, honey, baby girl, and kitty cat.

[heygerald]

Falling Without A Harness - Chapter 5

AU where Tom Ryder is still an asshole, just not a psychotic one. When he has good news, but no one to share it with, Parker invites him along to her brother's birthday party. A moment of weakness, or a moment for him to prove he's more than just his Hollywood ego?

read the story here: prev / next

"—and Jody said she was going to wear something simple, maybe jeans and a t-shirt, but I'm not really sure I want to match that vibe or go for something a little more, you know, fun. Maybe I could finally break out the bucket hat tonight," Colt's voice droned on from the phone tucked indelicately into the crevice of her neck and shoulder. Parker was only half listening, as was the usual when it came to her brother's incessant rambling about anything related to the pretty blonde camerawoman, and while he talked, she made work of slowly peeling strips of painters tape from the freshly painted wall. The ball in her hand was nicely sized by this point of the conversation. "So, anyway... uh, wait, what was the point?"

"Was there a point?" she mused aloud. "I stopped listening when you started talking about some pony she rode once at her twelfth birthday party."

She heard him snap his fingers. "Right—the birthday party."

"Hers or yours?"

"Mine! Listen, I know that you all put a lot of work into planning this shindig—"

"Shindig? God, you're old!"

"—but I would really appreciate if you told me what to expect tonight. Just a hint will do. I'm not trying to show up wearing dress shoes to a disco if you know what I mean."

Parker stuck another piece of tape onto the ever-growing ball with a blithe snort. "I never know what you mean."

"Park," he whined, much like a child, and not the thirty-something year old man that he was. Was this year number thirty-seven or thirty-eight? She should probably figure that out before putting candles on his cake. "Come onnnnnn. Just tell me. Just a hint!"

"And ruin the surprise? No way, Jose."

"But it's my birthday surprise! You can spoil it for me. I mean, realistically, no one would blame you if, maybe, you accidentally let the surprise slip. It'd be expected coming from you, actually."

She frowned. "What do you mean it would be expected coming from me?"

"Well, you know, you can't keep a secret to save your life."

Parker tossed the ball of tape into the trash and picked up the broom with an indignant scoff. "Excuse me, I am a very good secret keeper."

A long winded and high-pitched whine followed, and she winced at the volume of it. Parker switched the phone to her other ear, certain that between her brother and Melissa she had permanent hearing damage.

"Oh, so now all of the sudden you're a locked vault!" he blathered on. "Where was this dedication to silence when I got sick at Macy Lindwigs wedding and you spent the entire evening telling everyone you could find?"

An image of Macy Lindwig, dressed to the nines in a beautiful handmade wedding dress, staring in horror as her brother puked in an azalea bush three minutes before the ceremony started came to mind.

"Oh, I totally forgot about that," she snickered, the memory almost too sweet to ignore now that it had been brought back up. "You ruined her heels that night, you know. What was I supposed to do? Not tell everyone?"

"For starters. Or, at the very least, you could have refrained from blabbing about it at Christmas," he muttered petulantly. "Grandma never looked at me the same way again. She still won't let me near her rose garden."

"Cause and effect," Parker chirped. "You drank one too many tequila shots the night before, and thus, you have to suffer the fate of Grandma judging you every Christmas Eve."

"Miami Vice premiered the night before!" he argued, shouting, in what she suspected was a deranged manner. Parker hoped he was somewhere public; perhaps a grocery store or laundromat. "Just another example of how you can't keep a secret for the life of you, not even when your brother's good name is at stake. Your only true sibling, might I add."

"And here I thought I was an orphan found in a box."

She could hear Colt kicking something, palm clasped over the speaker as he whined, before he was back. "You're worse than Judas, you know. You ruin lives just for the fun of it, no silver needed."

"Are you offering silver?"

A cough. "Uh, I mean, I'm a little tight on silver at the moment. I think I have a free sub from Publix somewhere around here."

"A coupon. Wow. So generous."

"It's a punch card, and those aren't easy to fill out, you know," he huffed indignantly, obviously put out that Parker wasn't going to accept his lackluster offer. "What if I say pretty please?"

"Ha! Nice try. I happen to like Jody, so even if I wanted to tell you what we're doing tonight—which I don't—I'm not going to. She was really excited to help me plan this year."

Some spluttering followed her resolution, before he was kicking something again. Apparently, whatever he kicked was harder than he thought, however, and the next moment her brother was wheezing in pain.

"Jesus, take it easy, alright? You're going to need your toes for tonight."

In a breathless voice, he weaseled, "tonight at...?"

But Parker was no novice when it came to keeping secrets from her brother, and so she didn't fall for the trick. "Ha, nice try," she snorted while stooping to sweep her pile of dust and paint chips off the ground. Shades of green and white stained her hands, but she didn't bother to clean them off. It would be a pointless endeavor, after all, considering what they had planned for Colt's birthday party later that evening. "I'm trying to stay on Jody's good side."

"Both of her sides are good sides," was his immediate response, something wistful coloring his tone. "She's gorgeous. If you haven't noticed."

"Trust me," Parker deadpanned with a blithe glance at her own disheveled appearance, "I've noticed."

"Do you think I should bring her flowers?"

"To your birthday party?"

"Girls like flowers. Plus, she's planning the whole thing."

"I helped!"

"I'm not bringing you flowers to my birthday party, Park. It's not about you, you know."

"Right, of course, how could I have forgotten?" she deadpanned. However, despite his disinterest in showing her any gratitude, Parker smiled at the concept that there was a man out in this world so infatuated by a woman, that he not only spent all his time talking about her, but he also wanted to bring her flowers for no good reason. If only she could find someone like that who wasn't her brother. Wishes and wants, she supposed. "As nice of a thought as that is, don't bring her flowers tonight. They'll end up wilted by the time she gets back home from the party. If they aren't totally trashed first, that is."

His tone pitched higher, eagerly. "Trashed? Why would they be trashed? Are we doing some floral vandalism tonight? Oh!" Colt cried, hands clapping together. "Are we going to a wreck-it room? I've always wanted to do something like that. You know, somewhere that wasn't on a set, anyway, where I'm being beat up for a living with props."

Parker covered the speaker of her phone to curse at herself. While she hadn't ruined the surprise, Colt was like a dog with a hambone, and was not likely to let it go anytime soon.

She cleared her throat and attempted indifference. "Not even close," she said, but it didn't sound super convincing, and with an exasperated huff, she threw her hands up. "Jesus, Colt, you're going to get me into trouble! Just chill out. Jody should be picking you up soon, anyway."

"Picking me up soon for...?"

Colt's whining was interrupted by the tinkle of the front bell, and as she switched her phone back to her right ear, Parker took a moment to scoop up the paint-splattered tarp sprawled across the floor.

Melissa had been on to something with her suggestion to repaint the store, and while they had only gotten the walls finished over the past two and a half weeks, the mossy green color with gold accented picture frames really gave some life back to her shop. It still had that musty smell, as well as a pair of flickering lightbulbs from the janky electrical sockets, but they were definitely taking a step in the right direction. The color made everything feel cozier, and once they coated the bookshelves with shades of blue and yellow and replaced the overhead fluorescents with something warmer, she thought it might look like an entirely new store for the price of a few gallons of paint.

Not to mention the color stood out from the recent tan and brown trend that had swept across Hollywood hills. Win, win.

"Ugh! Stop trying to spoil your own surprise and let it happen, alright? You're going to love it," she pacified half-heartedly while booting a stool out of the way. Too deep of a breath had the smell of laquear and paint fumes killing off some braincells, and Parker dropped the tarp along with the rest of the paint materials with a cross-eyed huff. "Plus, it was all Jody's idea, so if you hate it, I would keep that to your..."

Parker paused halfway up the aisle.

On the far end of it, a brown and black colored dog sat patiently wagging its tail at her. Its tongue was sticking out of the side of its mouth, but despite Elon Musk's predictions about the existence of intelligent life in the galaxy, she was pretty sure that the local population of Hollywood mutts had yet to grow opposable thumbs capable of opening a door.

She blinked at it.

"Er, listen," she muttered into the phone, gaze darting past the dog, but not seeing its owner. "I have to go. There's a dog situation that I need to take care of."

"A dog? I've been asking you for years to get a dog, and now you finally decide to get one on my birthday! That's so totally fu—"

Parker hung up before he could complain any further, and slowly tucked her phone into the back pocket of her jeans. The dog barked at her, as if excited to finally have her attention.

"Er—hi. Did you—how did you get in here?" she asked.

It responded by tilting its head to a ninety-degree angle. She stared, waiting, as if the language barrier would suddenly disappear.

Unsurprisingly, it didn't. The dog barked a second time.

"I don't have any treats on me," she said again, not sure else what to say, but certainly feeling like she should say something. It trotted towards her, and though it seemed friendly at first, when it stuck its head into her crotch to take too deep a sniff for comfort, Parker jumped backwards. "Ah—fuck! Buy a girl dinner first, huh?"

She sidestepped the dog, hands splayed out in front of her like she was a robbery victim, and did her best to avoid being felt up as the dog followed her towards the storefront. It nosed her rear end, and Parker let out an undignified squeak.

"Jesus! I know the humane society is underfunded and all, but this is a little ridiculous, don't you think?" she asked it.

The dog darted in front of her, nose going right back for the crotch, and Parker just barely managed to leap onto Melissa's sunken reading chair when an increasingly familiar head of blonde hair stepped out from behind one of the bookshelves.

"Talon, Jean Claude," he said, and as though the dog hadn't just been harassing her, it plopped down onto the floor right beside him. Dog and owner blinked at her in bemusement. "Don't seriously tell me that you're afraid of dogs."

Parker shot him a disgruntled glare in response, but Tom didn't seem to mind the heat packed behind it. Instead, he smirked at her, crossed one arm over the other, and languidly leaned back against the front counter.

It was obvious he was laughing at her, and not with her, and Parker added it to the list of all the things she couldn't stand about Tom Ryder. Worse though, she couldn't help but subconsciously smooth a hand over her hair, because where Jody was effortlessly gorgeous, Parker required quite a bit of effort not to look awful. And right now, with paint-stained pants, a half-assed pair of dutch braids, and miscolored converse, she was certainly not showing him her good side.

If she even had one, that is.

"I should have known you would have a pervy dog," she said while looking down her nose at him. Literally, too, considering she was still standing on the chair. Parker flushed a bright red at the realization and none-too-glamorously clambered down onto her feet. "And French, too. I think that's stereotyping, Ryder."

Despite the distrustful look she shot the dog, he seemed a whole lot less pervy and rabid now that she knew he had an owner, and when she approached it, its tail flapped back and forth excitedly.

"Insulting an entire country?" Tom harrumphed as she started to scratch the dog between its ears. "Maybe you should sit through PR training with me next time Gail hosts a session."

She blew a bland raspberry as she read the dog's name tag.

Jean Claude. Huh. Cute.

He let out a low whine when she hit a particularly sensitive spot, and in delight, he rolled onto his back with half-lidded eyes.

"Is this the one you were talking to the other day, or do you have any other expat mutts that I should know about? I can only be felt up so many times before I file a harassment complaint."

"Jean Claude isn't a mutt," he corrected her, disdain at the very idea of owning a mutt. Parker supposed adopting a kennel-dog was likely below him, being a superstar and what not. "He's an Australian Kelpie, pure-bred, and he certainly wasn't fucking cheap. His parents are award winning cattle dogs in the Australian circuit."

"That's an award category?"

"Hmph. Laugh all you want, but I'd bet he's better trained than you are. He's even trained to attack someone in the balls on command."

"So am I," she sassed while making kissy faces at Jean Claude. "Oh, he's cute. Yes, you are. Yes, you are," she cooed.

He ate it right up, tail flapping in every direction, and when she spared Tom a glance, she could feel the jealousy rolling off him that someone else was getting more attention. Dog or not. Parker snickered.

"Sorry you're stuck with this one," she added, jerking a thumb over her shoulder to gesture in Tom's general area. "But trust me, you're way cuter, and probably lower maintenance than he is."

Tom cleared his throat. "Are you done?"

"Jealous?"

"Of a dog?" he deadpanned, rolling his eyes beneath a pair of expensive Ray Bans—not at all disproving the theory—and Parker smiled at her private joke. "Hardly."

She leaned closer to Jean Claude, and spoke in a stage whisper, "I think he's jealous."

And—yup—that seemed to do it.

Tom pushed off the counter with a sharp huff, unamused by her teasing, and make a command in French. Jean Claude bounded onto his feet, trotted to where Tom was, and curled up between his legs.

Parker stood and planted her hands onto her hips. "Real mature."

"I can always show you his attack command," Tom threatened. "I doubt you'll find him as adorable when he attacks you. It's always a hit at parties, watching someone get their balls bitten off."

"I think I'm missing a critical component for that trick to work," she pointed out with a dry smile. "But, anyway, what are you doing here? If you came to return my books, they're yours, considering how much you paid for them the other day."

He shrugged. "Maybe I want my change."

"You came all the way here, through traffic, to get your change?" she echoed, clearly disbelieving his piss poor excuse. Under her stare, Tom shuffled uncomfortably on his feet. "Hm. I thought I was supposed to be the penny pincher between the two of us."

"Maybe it's not the money I care about. It's the principle of the whole thing."

"Ha! You expect me to believe that you have principles?"

Tom huffed, but she caught the crooked upturn of his mouth. Still, he played the victim—always acting, this one. "You're right. I don't just deserve change. I should get a full refund, considering how awful your book recommendations were. Not to mention the books practically fell apart when I touched them. Clearly, you sell cheap products."

"Clearly," she muttered, while flipping the sign on the front door from OPEN to CLOSED. There wasn't much going on outside, anyway, and she doubted she would be missing any customers by taking the day off early.

"You want to tell me what you're really doing here? Because we both know you liked my recommendations," she said matter-of-factly, moving to the cash register now. She had made a few sales throughout the day, more than a typical Friday, and so she carefully began stacking her receipts. "I mean, who wouldn't? Those are good books I gave you. Contact is in my top ten."

Tom leaned on the counter. "Books I bought."

She waved him off, stack of receipts in hand, as she locked the lower cabinet. Tom could complain all he wanted, but she did know that he liked her book recommendations. He had finished them all within a week, when he likely should have been spending more attention devoted to practicing for his audition. Granted, it was a sci-fi movie he was auditioning for, but—

She startled.

"Oh, duh!" Parker sprung to her full height with a curious look. "Did you get the part?"

Tom smirked.

It wasn't bashful or pleasant or soft like authors typically described their tall, dark, and handsome characters, but it was so very him that she hardly minded it. In fact, Parker sort of liked it. It crinkled the soft lines by his eyes, loosened the tension in his shoulders, and made him look younger. Nicer. Cuter.

"Of course I did," he sassed. "I told you I was going to get it."

She ignored his blatant peacocking to punch him in the shoulder. The action seemed to shock him, and Tom clutched the spot with his other hand—as if she had done some real damage—while Parker grinned. "Holy shit, that's great! I mean, sure, you were a shoo-in or whatever, but this is a big deal. Right? It's a big deal? You must be jumping off the walls right now!"

Tom gave a bemused huff, eyes darting over the length of her face, and nodded. "Biggest movie I've gotten yet," he said. "My first sci-fi film too, so, that's going to get my name out there even more than it was. I mean, if I thought I was well known before... after this, everyone will know who Tom Ryder is."

"That's awesome!"

Tom rolled his eyes at her enthusiasm, clearly not buying into it, and though Parker was so excited on his behalf, Tom seemed like he was fighting off indifference to the news. "Yeah, well, a role's a role, you know."

"Well, yeah," she hedged, waving a hand at him, "but this is your first sci-fi role, and it was one that you even told me you wanted to get. You must be at least a little excited for it. Sci-fi is so interesting, I bet filming it is gonna be a ton of fun."

"Sure," he echoed dryly. His smirk had returned, and though she wouldn't necessarily classify what his face was doing now as a smile, it was certainly close. "Fun. That's what I'm aiming for in my career: fun."

"Oh, please," she clucked her tongue at him, receipts shoved hastily into their folder. "You can be a huge movie star and still have fun doing it. I mean, isn't that the point? Doing something you love and all that. I'd imagine it's going to be a whole new experience for you, stepping into a sci-fi set."

He hemmed, mouth twisting between a smile and a frown. "I guess."

He didn't sound all that convinced. In fact, when Parker thought about it, she seemed to be far more excited about the role than he did. She tilted her head at him suspiciously. "Alright, well... what are you doing to celebrate?" she asked. "A vacation? Buying yourself a new car? Oooh—Legoland?"

He furrowed his brows at her in surprised. "Legoland?"

"It's what I would do," she shrugged. "Probably, anyway. I've never been because the tickets just don't seem worth the price, but if I had just landed a giant role in a giant blockbuster, I think buying a ticket would be the least of my worries. You could probably even write it off on your taxes."

He blinked at her. "Poor people are so sad to me."

She stuck her tongue out at him, and took delight in the way that he huffed in amusement. "Well? Come on—make me jealous—what are you doing?"

Tom shrugged. "Gail's throwing a big party next week to announce the role. She always does that. Invites her producer friends and talent agents and that sort of stuff. There'll probably be some sort of attraction, singers or a zebra or something."

"Casual," she snorted.

"She has a weird thing for exotic animals, I don't know."

"Seems like it. But that's what she's doing, what are you doing?" she needled further. "I mean, I assumed you would do a big party with your friends before then. You know—cops get called, party crashers—the whole scene."

Tom hesitated to answer, and when he did, he didn't sound all that much like himself. "Well, I can't really do that—she controls when I make go public with the news—has the whole timeline figured out, and manages all the press for it. She doesn't let me tell people ahead of time."

"I'm people."

He rolled his eyes. "You're a nobody," he said. Not to be mean; no, Tom was very clear in his words when he intended to be mean. Instead, he had said it nonchalantly, as if it was a universal truth that everyone understood. And, in all honesty, Parker got it. "I mean, who are you going to tell that would care, you know?"

"Okay, ouch," she muttered still, before barreling on. "Don't you have any non-work friends that you can go get drinks with?"

"All my friends are work friends."

"What about people that don't know Gail?"

Tom huffed and waved a hand at her. "That's the same thing, you know. She introduced me to everyone I know in the industry. Other than some set hands, we have the same circle."

Parker sank onto her heels, feeling slighted on his behalf, but knowing that she didn't really have a right to. Surely, Tom Ryder would have stood up to Gail if he didn't like her hands-on, helicopter parent approach to managing his life. And clearly their work relationship was beneficial to them both. He certainly didn't need a nobody like her feeling sorry for him.

And yet, she did.

Because, as she listened to him talk, it felt like he had to give up everything just to be a somebody in Hollywood. And while it might have been the norm for him, it was absolutely not the norm for everybody.

Did he even realize that?

"Fuck that," Parker said before she could think better of it, emotions getting the better of her. Colt always joked that she had a bleeding heart, but she had never thought there was anything wrong with that. "Come hang out with me, then."

Tom arched a brow at her, mouth parted dumbly. "...what?"

She shrugged, feeling a little like a specimen beneath a microscope, and struggled to explain herself. "I mean, you just said that Gail doesn't want you telling anybody that matters, and I only hang out with people that don't matter in the grand scheme of Hollywood politics. I'm getting ready to head to Colt's birthday party after this, and if you're not doing anything else, you may as well come with me. It won't be a celebration for you, obviously, but... it'll be fun."

He blinked at her slowly, surprise written in the fine lines of his face.

"We're not going to murder you," she huffed indignantly.

"I—I never hang out with Colt or those guys."

"Yeah, for good reason. They all sort of hate you for being an asshole on set to them. Like, all the time. I wouldn't want to hang out with you outside of work either, if I was them."

He scowled. "Oh, well, when you put it like that," he huffed. "Obviously, they're not going to want me to come. And, I may be an asshole, but I try not to gatecrash birthday parties."

She waved his concern away with a paint-stained hand. "First off, you won't be gatecrashing, I'm literally extending an invite. And secondly, they only hate you because you're a prick on set. What better way to prove that you're not a prick, by coming to Colt's birthday party, and—you know—actually being nice for once. Just don't be a dickwad. Or an asshole. Or any sort of thing that you usually are on a normal day."

"I think the saying is 'always be yourself'," he deadpanned.

"That absolutely doesn't apply here."

"Smartass."

Parker nudged him in the shoulder with an exasperated look. "Come on! What else are you going to do? Do some irresponsible spending and buy everyone a round of drinks. I bet they'll think differently of you after everybody is a few beers in."

Tom didn't seem too convinced with her logic. "Crashing his birthday party doesn't seem the best way to get on Colt's good side. I didn't even know it was his birthday."

"Now you do," she shrugged, as if it wasn't a big deal. And—well—her brother was probably going to bitch about Tom's presence at the party, but Parker also believed that after a few shots of liquor, everyone would get over the issue fairly quick. Not to mention the party itself was designed for stress relief. Bringing Tom may actually make the night. With a conniving wiggle of her brows, Parker tried again. "I know for a fact that there's room for one more. Jody and I planned the whole thing together, and if she's allowed a plus-one, so am I. Jean Claude can even come. Colt loves dogs."

Tom seemed to sway a little further with her reasoning, and with a slow nod, he finally agreed. He certainly didn't look happy about it though.

Parker punched the air. Oh, Colt is going to love this.

"Awesome! Give me a minute to lock up, and then we can go."

"Fine," he huffed, not too unlike that of a sulky toddler. "But I'm driving."

Parker smiled. Her car was a piece of shit that barely worked on a good day. She was going to insist he drive in the first place. Plus, now, she could get really drunk.

"Fine by me," was all she said, not eager to give away that piece of information just yet. "Just promise me you won't be an asshole. I won't be able to keep my reputation of favorite sister if you ruin the night."

"I'm not going to ruin the night," he snarked with a petulant glare. Parker shrugged, grabbing her things, as he asked, "...wait, I thought you were his only sister?"

"Exactly. Now, come on, I want to get there before they start assigning teams."

The bell rang as she stepped outside, Jean Claude trotting with her, and Tom hesitated for a brief moment before what she said caught up to him.

"Wait," he called, jogging after her. "What do you mean teams?"

---

Tom's presence did not go unnoticed. In fact, it had taken a mere three minutes before Jody was elbowing her to the side, a stern, disbelieving look furrowing her brows. She had let it go in a huff, however, when Parker pointed out that Tom had promised to be on his best behavior, as well as promised to buy the first round of drinks once the game was over.

That had been a lie, of course, but she supposed she could deal with that tantrum later.

Colt, on the other hand, hadn't been so easily placated, and as the twenty odd players stood in a circle, listening to the instructor drone on about safety, he weaseled next to her with a glare.

"I can't believe you brought Ryder," he hissed for the third time that night, hot breath on her face. She would have shoved him away if the instructor hadn't already reprimanded then twice for being distracting. "I mean, seriously Park, I can't stand the guy."

"Oh, really? I couldn't tell."

"Really!"

"Well, I'm sorry," she shrugged, although the apology was half-hearted at best, and Colt seemed to know this as he narrowed his eyes at her irritably. She huffed. "What was I supposed to do? Leave him behind?"

"Yes," Colt whisper-yelled. Dan glanced over his shoulder at the pair, and in perfect Seavers' sibling unison, they plastered fake smiles onto their faces with a friendly wave. He shook his head at them, but likely didn't think they were worth whatever trouble they caused, and faced forward once more. "That's exactly what you should have done!"

"It's not that easy," she argued, hissing as well. "He looked so sad! Like a little abandoned puppy dog that had just been kicked. It was a moment of weakness!"

"Oh, really?" Colt drawled. Together, they glanced over at Tom to find him ignoring everyone in the group with his head stuck in his phone. When a fly buzzed too close, he swatted at it with an icy glare. "That? You couldn't say no to that?"

"I said I was sorry!"

Parker's voice hitched higher than she intended, and the instructor paused in his speech to glare at the duo. She gave him a weak smile in return, mouthing, a guilty, sorry!

The man only got two words back into his speech, however, before Colt started whining again.

"Look, I'm totally stoked about the surprise party, okay? You did a stand-up job on it and the guest list. So how could you fuck it all up so close to the finish line?"

"What the hell does that even mean?" she asked in bewilderment. Parker shook her head. "Seriously, you need to update your sayings."

"Update my—?" Colt bit off a groan, pinching the bridge of his nose to take a long, overdrawn breath. "Why was he even at your bookstore? Since when did you two become friends? What happened to the whole—asshole, asshole, asshole—bit you had going on?"

"I still think he's an asshole," she shot back. But, well, when she caught Tom's gaze across the grass, she faltered. Did she think he was an asshole at his core? Or had he simply become someone she was beginning to understand—a dog that lashed out when someone got too close? Parker rubbed circles into her temple. "And we're not friends. And, even if we were, you have no one to blame but yourself."

"Myself?" he echoed in disbelief. "What do I have to do with this?"

"You're the one that gave him my phone number."

Colt snorted, shaking his head at her. "Fat chance of that," he said. Parker, thinking he was joking at first, fell silent when he caught the look in his eye. But, if Colt hadn't given Tom her phone number, then who had? she wondered, mentally counting down the list of people it could have possibly been.

Bigger fish to fry, she reminded herself when the list made her go cross-eyed.

"Whatever. We're not friends or buddies or whatever you think we are, so you can stop worrying about that."

Colt snorted. "Oh, sure you're not. He just happens to hang out around your bookshop and you share recommendations and, oh yeah! You bring him as a plus-one to my birthday party!"

Parker scowled. "I made the guest list, I think I have a right to bring someone along with."

"Sure, someone. Not Jaws over there."

She frowned at him, thrown off by the random insult. "Jaws?" she echoed, crinkling her nose distastefully. "What does a shark have to do with this?"

Colt sighed. "No, not the shark, the James Bond villain."

"That's a stupid name for a villain."

"I didn't write the damn thing."

"Okay, well, maybe he has the arrogance of a James Bond villain, but at least pick one from this century."

"Silva?"

"Nah. Whose the the one with the weird eye?"

Colt hummed thoughtfully, gaze darting over towards Tom. "Le Chiffre?"

Parker snapped her fingers and pointed at him. "That one!"

"Yeah, alright, I'll give you that," he conceded, nodding. "He does give off Bond villain vibes with the sunglasses and hair-do."

"Right? Oh you should have seen these glasses he was wearing last time. They were huge, and yellow tinted; like Tony Stark would wear. They were so ridiculous."

Colt snickered for a moment, enjoying mocking Tom with his sister, before realizing that he was currently mad at her. He threw his head back with a subtle groan. "Stop doing that! I'm still mad at you!"

Parker gave her brother a blithe look. "I think you're looking at this all wrong."

"Wrong? What other way should I look at it?" he snarked. "With my eyes closed?"

Resisting the urge to smack him, Parker instead gestured to their instructor, the paintball gun in his hand, and then towards Tom. "You literally get the chance to chase down and shoot, Tom Ryder, bane of your existence or whatever. Shoot him. Think about all the welts and whining and, maybe, if you're lucky, the tears you can get out of this experience. Legally. Without getting fired or arrested. What's better than that, huh? It's your very own personal rage room."

Colt considered all of that silently. He swept his gaze from the large pile of paintball guns set off to the side, to the acres of arena in front of them with inflatable obstacles, and then to his blonde alter-ego sulking at the edge of the group.

He slung an arm around Parker's shoulder with the boyish grin. "Have I ever told you how much I love you?"

Parker snorted, amused by his mood swings. "Not nearly enough. It's all Jody this, and Jody that anymore."

Jody, having finished listening to the instructor's demonstration, peered around Colt's shoulder to blink at the siblings. "What about me?"

Colt and Parker shared a silent look.

"Nothing," she said, whilst he cooed, "just talking about how pretty you are."

Jody blushed a bright rouge instantly, and Colt obviously took pleasure in that when he slung his other arm around her shoulder. Taking a deep breath, he let out a happy sigh. "My two ladies. Paintball. The smell of tears and blood on the horizon. What better way to spend a birthday?"

Parker glanced at Jody, expecting her to roll her eyes, but the camerawoman instead just smiled with something soft in her eyes.

Parker responded by wiggling out of Colt's reach. "Ew, blegh, that's disgusting. They say cooties are contagious you know."

"What on Earth are cooties?" Jody asked.

"An STD," Colt replied, only half joking, and though Jody appeared mildly disturbed by his joke, Parker had known her brother long enough to appreciate his odd ball sense of humor. "And they're not contagious if you have a shot."

Jody, not wanting to know if he was serious or not, let it go as the group slowly filed forward to get their guns, face masks, and coveralls. They followed shortly after, snickering like kids the entire way through.

In the end, Colt and Jody both got white, while Parker and Tom were given black ones.

Karma, she supposed, is that she wouldn't be able to shoot the asshole after all.

"Somehow, this is a step up for your usual clothes," said asshole chirped, pinching the baggy material hanging at her waist between his forefinger and thumb. Parker swatted him away, only for Jean Claude to bark at her. "Easy, you want to get taken down before the game even starts?"

"Please, you're lucky we're on the same team," Parker teased. He didn't seem to buy it if the blithe look he shot her was anything to go by, and she huffed at him. "I bet I could have gotten the first hit on you if we weren't on the same team. I have mad skills at paintball, Ryder. Seal Team Six type stuff., you don't even know."

Tom rolled his eyes at the same time that Colt reappeared, face mask propped on the top of his head, looking just a tad too comfortable in his onesie. Jody and Dan flanked him, and Parker didn't like their smiles one bit.

"What?" she asked.

"You suck at paintball," Colt egged. "Remember Tallahassee? You were covered in welts for weeks!"

Tom snorted, and Parker considered him the greater threat considering the fact he was standing closer to her than Colt was. She glared at him to state, "I'm not joking. I could literally take you out. Any of you," she added with a stern point of the finger sweeping through the group. "All of you!"

Not a single person believed her.

Tom went so far as to snicker at her. "I don't buy that. for a second. You're a total klutz."

She gasped. "Am not!"

Colt raised a hand. "Are too. Remember when you broke your ankle trying to play hopscotch?"

"Just—stay out of this!"

He did not, in fact, stay out of it. "What was it you said, Park? Cause and effect? You suck at sports, and the effect of that, is you're about to go down on the course."

She blew a rather wet raspberry at her brother. "Please, if you and Tom were on the same team, I would smoke both of you."

They bickered for a moment, amusing some, but boring Tom, and the A-lister broke up their argument with a long-weary sigh. "Oi! Whose to say either of you could get a shot on me?" he taunted.

The siblings turned to face him.

"Is that a challenge?" Parker asked, hands planted on her hips, whilst Colt raised his brows.

Tom shrugged, unconcerned.

"In fact, I bet I'll make it a whole round without getting shot once," Tom tacked on, ego puffing his chest out as he smirked at the group standing around. Dan rolled his eyes, while Jody coughed into her hand to hide an obvious laugh at his showboating. "I'm serious. First one to hit me gets five hundred dollars—"

Thwack! Thwack!

Tom gaped at his chest, now dotted with one yellow and one blue splatter. Parker and Colt stood in front of him, guns still smoking, and while his eyes widened in anger, the pair of siblings were more concerned with claiming the prize to notice.

"First!" Colt cried.

"What? No fucking way," Parker argued. She waved at the yellow paint splatter haphazardly, almost taking out Jody as she did so. "I was so first. Tom! Tell him!"

Tom, now even more unamused by their bickering, blinked in wide-eyed disbelief at them both. "Are you fucking serious?" he shouted. "The game didn't even start yet!"

"But you just said—"

"I meant during a match. Christ, Parker, we're on the same team," he blustered, attempting to wipe off the paint, but only managing to smear it further down his chest like a bad Jackson Pollock painting. "Fuck!"

Colt, sensing a blow-out was coming, swung his gun behind his back with a wide eyed, innocent look. "Hey man, it was all her," he started. "Totally uncool. And immature. And, really, if you need me to smack her around a little after this I totally can."

Tom glared at Colt, effectively shutting him up in seconds, before turning to Parker. Everyone watched in baited breath, nervous what he might do, and while Parker hadn't been on set long enough to know what his meltdowns looked like, the ones most familiar with Tom were left stunned by his reaction.

Or, really, how utterly tame this one was to the hundred others they had seen.

"Are you happy now?" he asked.

Parker hemmed and hawed for a moment before deciding that honesty was the best policy. "I mean, I'd be happier if you gave me my five hundred dollars."

"I'm not paying you shit."

"Oh, come on," she rolled her eyes, popping a hip as she did so. "It's not like you're cash poor or anything. You're just upset that I shot you."

Tom gaped at her in disbelief. "No shit!"

Parker, shifting her gun over her shoulder, waved the other at him blithely. "You'll get over it once the game starts. It's—heh—surprisingly therapeutic."

"Shooting me is therapeutic?"

She paused, caught up in her own statement. "Er, well, not you exactly. Just someone, in general, you know." Parker swallowed when Tom continued to stare at her. Awkwardly, she laughed. "Just... wait till you get out there, and you'll see."

Tom remained silent, blinking at her for a long, tense, moment before he rolled his eyes with a heavy sigh. And—

Thwack! Thwack! Thwack!

His gun went off before anyone could stop him, and Parker gaped at the trio of yellow paint that was now splattered across her chest. "Fucking ow!"

Tom smirked at her, blowing the muzzle of his gun for extra flare, before swinging it over his shoulder. "Huh. I guess you're right. I do feel better."

"Asshole!"

"Yeah, well, takes one to know one, right?" he snarked.

And—oh.

She could kill him. Really, seriously kill him.

But, well, the longer she stared at him and he stared at her, eyebrow cocked and a daring smirk in place, Parker realized above the hatred simmering in her chest, she felt something kindred and wanting flutter like butterflies. Something amused by the curve of his smirk, flushed by the scorching burn of his gaze, and—dare she think—understanding at the retaliatory strike. She had, afterall, shot first.

He had only lowered himself to her level; played by her rules.

And with a strong suspicion that Tom Ryder wasn't so much an asshole as he was just looking for someone to understand him, Parker's only response to that was to throw her head back and howl in laughter.

Despite this, no one else moved for a long moment, too busy darting their gazes between Parker and Tom in case they needed to intervene, but in an even more surprising turn of events, he laughed as well. Not so outright, and not nearly as loud, but he did. Prompted by his positive reaction, it wasn't long before Colt started to laugh, and then Jody, and then suddenly everyone was knelt at the waist in laughter.

It wasn't until their instructor honked a blow horn at them, none too amused with the pre-game warfare, that they calmed down. He honked the horn a second time at Parker and Tom, threatening to kick them out if they kept breaking the rules, and while they managed to stay straight-faced, the moment he turned his back on the group, they shared matching grins.

Maybe, she thought as they got into place, it hadn't been such a bad idea to bring him along.

And maybe, her brother thought at the exact same time, Parker and Tom being friends wasn't the end of the world.

[happinessismusic]

Gwen Stefani turns over a new leaf, or petal, on her fifth solo album, Bouquet. Known for her work in ska-punk with No Doubt and later pop, she’s been a bonafide hitmaker for decades. But this album plays a very different tone.

Bouquet isn’t about synths or loops—the way modern pop has been heading for years—but is far more organic. It feels more more mature; even, at times, folky. Judging by the cowboy hat she wears on the cover, you might presume it will be influenced by country, but that doesn’t really tell the whole story.

Bouquet draws on a range of sounds, from Americana to ‘90s pop-rock and ‘70s rock. With her unique and instantly recognizable voice, it’s not really any of those things.

What makes the album refreshing is how Gwen Stefani keeps her identity rather than trying to become someone else. While the songs may not be like today’s pop hits, they sound like her. Whether hubby Blake Shelton’s influence rubbed off at all is another question, but it would seem he had at least a little influence.

Stefani pulls no punches on opener “Somebody Else’s,” which seems to put former husband and Bush frontman Gavin Rossdale on blast.

“Leavin’ you saved me, my God/ Look at me blossom/ You’re somebody else’s problem,” she sings.

Despite the pointed lyrics, the overall message is actually one of hope and recovery from a difficult circumstance. It’s upbeat and fuses acoustic and electric guitars with a Fleetwood-Mac-esque quality. Far more hopeful is the title track, which has a little a Southern charm and swagger, though it’s not a full-on country song.

Keeping with the optimistic tone, “Pretty” sticks with the acoustic-driven Americana sound. The lyrics are pretty straightforward, but the simple yet effective hook has an infectious quality.

“I never felt pretty ’til you loved me/ But now I feel pretty lucky,” she sings.

On the quieter “Empty Vase,” Stefani’s delivery is subdued and intricate. Lyrically, she weaves in flower imagery throughout the record, continuing that here as well as on the following track, “Marigolds.” The latter has a ‘90s pop-rock energy and an acoustic-driven bounce. It’s a quick and punchy track that restores the upbeat momentum. Similarly, “Late to Bloom” adds a dose of a country kick to it.

Power ballad “Swallow My Tears” offers an interesting fusion of the more organic sound with a throwback vocal delivery and lyrical style that calls back to some of Stefani’s prior solo work.

“I stay one step ahead of the pain/ I keep an umbrella when there’s no rain/ I got my guard up when there’s no war/ Don’t know what I’m fighting for,” an introspective Stefani sings.

Acoustic ballad “Reminders” is, at least musically, the most traditional country song here, with a warm vocal tone. The final two songs on the album, “All Your Fault” and “Purple Irises,” may be the best of the bunch. Both capture a pop-rock personality with big choruses and add a touch of folkiness. They’re memorable, with big harmonies and a dynamic melody. Shelton makes an appearance on “Purple Irises,” and his voice complements hers.

Bouquet is a more mature turn for Stefani, and the sound may take longtime fans by surprise. Stefani seems to be comfortable in this space. It’s an album not defined by pop bangers, opting to give Stefani the space to spread her wings.

[miss-nandini]

Hello!

I was wondering if you would do a request the Dorm-Leaders (plus Grim if you could) reacting to Yuu having the magic of an Empathic Healer, which is a healer that takes the person's wounds and transfer them to Yuu's own body. Futhermore, Yuu hates any sense of violence and goes out of their ways to heal the person in pain, not thinking about the strain it would put their body in.

Thank you!

A/N: This is a very new concept for me. I will try. Also, I made the reader female here. Thank you for requesting! Have a good day/afternoon/night! 💜💜💜

Riddle: It's not uncommon for the Adeuce duo to cause trouble and they often get injured because of that. So, once again they pissed off Riddle which caused him to blow up. But, before he can collar them, they started running, causing Riddle to run after them. That ended up Ace and Deuce falling over a rose bush and getting nasty gashes. News reached your ears eventually and you being you decided to make their pain yours instead. Riddle didn't like that, not at all. Why should you suffer because of those troublemakers? One part of him was furious and the other part of him was awestruck. He thinks you are an angel in disguise. Sure, a bit stupid and reckless but nonetheless a very pure soul.

Leona: Okay yeah, spelldrive is not something for weak ass people. People get hurt left and right here. He didn't take it nicely when you took it upon yourself to cure their injuries. For the sevens' sake, (Y/N), they are random strangers! Not to mention many of taunted or threatened you in the past. They sure as hell don't deserve your kindness. You are so stupid, (Y/N). Let them suffer. Why waste your life after some brats? Deep down, he is proud. You sure will be the perfect queen of the Sunset Savannah, won't you? (No, he didn't say that, you misheard him herbivore.)

Azul: Now, Octavinelle guys don't really get injured. The thing is that it was Azul himself who got hurt during one of those idiotic flying classes. Sure, he went to the nurse and all but human medicines take a long time to work on him. That's why you took it upon yourself. You couldn't see the boy suffering. To be honest, Azul is flabbergasted. He just isn't used that much kindness. Ironically, his first thought was that maybe you want to make a deal, but his thoughts were crushed soon enough. He is grateful, proud, super happy and worried for you. Don't worry, (Y/N), he will come up with something that will ease your pain soon enough.

Kalim: Just like Riddle he thinks you are an angel. Kalim is a happy soul. He wanted to play trust fall with Jamil. But, Jamil was a second too late to catch up, which made the other boy fall and hurt his back badly. Now, Kalim is the last one you want to see in pain. So, you healed him. Kalim is extremely grateful of course. But, he isn't pleased that you are taking the fall. He feels really guilty. But no need to worry! This time, he will save his knight in shining armor!

Vil: It's hard to say how he got such cuts. He suspected that it happened during one of his modeling shows. It wasn't anything serious. But, a cut on his face made him wanna scream and throw things. He was upset and you hated seeing him upset. So, you did what you had to do. He is shocked, horrified even. Why?! Why would you ruin your pretty face like that?! Yes, okay, he is extremely thankful, but he is absolutely not happy with what happened to you. He will definitely brew up a special potion just for you.

Idia: Now, you may think the Ignihyde guys don't get hurt much. But, they do! They are always experimenting or building new things, so these guys get injured often too. Just nobody is very aware of that because they don't come out of their dorms often. But, it's not only that. When they actually go out, they get bullied. Even if they try to threaten the bullies in order to get away, they still get injured pretty bad.

"Idia, I told you that you should teach these guys some basic defense tricks or something."

"Yeah, sure (Y/N) nobody takes them seriously. Today they tried to threaten the bullies."

"And?"

"They thought these guys are tech support."

More or less, Idia thinks you are pretty cool for a normie. But, what you do? Yeah no, thank you very much. Even if he had that kind of magic he would never do what you are doing. He thinks you are too kind for your own good and he KNOWS people easily take advantage of you because of that. Yes, you are cool and kind but, he thinks he thinks sometimes you should think about yourself too.

Malleus: You don't know how grateful he is when you healed Silver and Sebek after they got injured. But, that's that. The very second he was worried sick for you. He couldn't bear seeing you in pain. Child of man, you are noble, you are an angel for what you did but it breaks his heart to see you in such condition. You have his respect, (Y/N). To him, you are no less than a goddess.

EXTRA

Grim: He is very proud of you, hench-human. When you first arrived in Twisted Wonderland, he thought you will be a burden. But, after spending months with you, he finally understood your worth. Now, you have his respect and adoration.

[the-yersinia-plague]

o/

I hope you all are doing well... or as well as you can be

Sabre receives the message as he walks by the shrine for the Skypeople. He smiles a little.

“Hi, we’re doing alright. As alright as you can be with the current situation. Lucas and I left the bunker and went up into town the other day to get more supplies. We also managed to pretty up the bunker a little more. See? It’s much more homely now.”

Sabre moves aside to show the main room of the bunker.

“The mission was quite eventful. We stumbled across Green, Blue and Red. Unfortunately Lucas got hurt while we were running from Red. I’ve quarantined him in the lab for now. He seems to be doing fine, considering Red didn’t come into contact with him. Buuut, better safe than sorry. The whole situation gave me an idea, that I have written down in my journal. Why don’t you read for yourself?“

He fishes his journal out of his lab coat and places it on the lectern in the middle of the shrine, so the Skypeople can read it.

((CW: Mentions and images of violence and body horror under the cut, proceed with caution!))

Excerpt from Sabre’s Journal #2

Today Lucas and I went outside. Man, it’s been only a little while since I’ve last seen the sun, but I did miss it like crazy. Lack of Vitamin D and such.

We decided to leave early in the morning, so we have lots of sunlight to work with. Right after breakfast with Light and Rain, of course. Rain asked me to bring his sticker collection, which I mentally made a priority.

I changed out of my onesie for practicality and instead chose to wear my green adventure gear. Lucas was comfortable enough in the clothes he already had, which is fair. He’s always been a more practical mind.

Upon exiting the bunker, everything seemed to be quiet at first. Hazy fog filled the air and limited our vision. Silent Hill vibes, ew.

Ignoring the chilly atmosphere, we followed the familiar path to the Rainbow House. On the way we noticed that someone must have been on another rampage during our “absence”. A couple more craters here and there, a new rogue fire and more broken windows. What a mess.

Whoever it was didn’t steal anything though, which was strange to us. Then again, Steves have a knack for being a little strange at times. Heh.

The first living infected we found was Green Steve. He was hanging around the front door to the Rainbow House. Upon seeing us approach, he hid in the withering rose bushes. He seemed scared, so Lucas and I approached carefully.

Green looked... Absolutely terrible. Disfigured by some sort of blisters, the same stuff as on Infinity. What made it worse? Some putrid, green stuff oozed out of them and the corner of his mouth. He reeked of decay, the poor guy. And wheezed, like his lungs were filled with fluid. Which they probably were.

Green wasn’t very aggressive. More scared like a cornered animal. Which is dangerous enough on its own. One wrong move from us and he’d freak out and jump us. We tried to assure him we were just going into the house and wanted nothing from him. Sadly he didn’t fully register our words and kept pleading we don’t harm the roses as they were his cure.

We could barely understand him. I wish there was something we could’ve done for him, but it was clear as day. He was as dead as the rose bushes around him. In opposite to him, the plants might thrive a little again, if his body were to fertilize them after death.

What an awful thought. Why did I write that down?

Swallowing the guilty feelings in our chests, Lucas and I continued. We ransacked our own home as well as we could, bagging anything and everything that was edible. We had space in our bags left, so we went upstairs and collected a couple more clothes too. I got Rain’s sticker collection.

We didn't wanna pass Green a second time, so we left the house through the basement. As we exited, we caught a glimpse of Blue in the water to the right of us.

Only his head peeked out, but from what we could see, he looked as bad as Green. The water around him was cloudy and grimy like bog water.

As soon as he saw us, he disappeared beneath the surface without a sound. Lucas and I shuddered and went on our way back.

We didn't make it very far though, when suddenly Red jumped down from the elytra platform. He was seething with rage like he usually would. His body too, was littered with signs of the sickness. Additionally, his own energy crackled and sparked around him in the shape of little red lightning bolts. He was loaded and ready to blow.

Knowing a fight would be devastating in many ways, Lucas and I ran for cover, closely followed by angry howling and the ground blowing up behind us. We stumbled into the Steve Temple, hoping to find cover there and catch our breaths.

But only shortly after, Red literally burst through one of the walls in another explosion. Some of the debree hit Lucas in the head and some glass shards got stuck in his arm. He stumbled against me and I immediately dragged him off, half pulling him along, half putting him back on his feet.

We had to make it back to the bunker, there was no use in hiding elsewhere. It wouldn't be safe enough. Only barely, with an angry Red hot on our tail, did we make it back to the bunker. We left the bags in the main room with Light and Rainbow and I brought Lucas to the lab where I tended to his injuries and put him under quarantine.

Encountering the different Steves made me think though. Two out of three weren't outright aggressive. Maybe, just maybe we can manage to catch one, so I can study the sickness better? Blue seems to be the easiest to capture. If he keeps hiding in the water around town, I could fix up a tank for him in the more secure portion of the lab. Then we'd have to lure him to the right spot and could get him into the tank somehow.

I'll have to keep thinking about this. It might be something helpful - albeit risky - in the future.

[alwayschasingrainbows]

My little quest to find the most iconic dresses for Montgomery's girls.

None of the pictures is mine. They are all from Pinterest. They may be historically inaccurate. They are also not ideal :).

Valancy Stirling:

"She got a pretty green crêpe dress with a girdle of crimson beads, at a bargain sale, a pair of silk stockings, to match, and a little crinkled green hat with a crimson rose in it." (The Blue Castle).

"She had a little smoke-blue chiffon which she always put on when they spent the evening at home—smoke-blue with touches of silver about it." (The Blue Castle).

My idea of what Valancy's (borrowed) masquerade dress MIGHT have looked like.

"Once they did go to a masquerade dance in the pavilion at one of the hotels up the lake, and had a glorious evening, but slipped away in their canoe, before unmasking time, back to the Blue Castle." (The Blue Castle).

Emily Byrd Starr

On the left: "It is to be of shot silk, blue in one light, silver in others, like a twilight sky, glimpsed through a frosted window-pane—with a bit of lace-foam here and there, like those little feathers of snow clinging to my window-pane." (Emily Climbs)

On the right: "An arrow of rhinestones in her dark hair—she had hair that wore jewels well—lent the necessary note of brilliance to the new dress of silvery-green lace over a pale-blue slip that became her so well." (Emily's Quest).

On the left: "it was a pretty crepe thing, of a pinkish-grey—the shade, I think, which was then called ashes-of-roses—and was made collarless—a great concession on Elizabeth's part—with the big puffed sleeves that look very absurd to-day, but which, like every other fashion, were pretty and piquant when worn by the youth and beauty of their time." (Emily Climbs).

On the right: "I want you to wear harebell blue gauze over ivory taffeta for your bridesmaid dress, darling" (Emily's Quest).

Anne Shirley:

"Oh, how pretty it was—a lovely soft brown gloria with all the gloss of silk; a skirt with dainty frills and shirrings; a waist elaborately pintucked in the most fashionable way, with a little ruffle of filmy lace at the neck. But the sleeves—they were the crowning glory! Long elbow cuffs, and above them two beautiful puffs divided by rows of shirring and bows of brown-silk ribbon." (Anne of Green Gables).

"In her light dress, with her slender delicacy, she made him think of a white iris." (Anne of Island).

Rilla Blythe

"Miss Oliver, shall I wear my white dress tonight or my new green one? The green one is by far the prettier, of course, but I'm almost afraid to wear it to a shore dance for fear something will happen to it." (Rilla of Ingleside).

Pat Gardiner:

On the right: "Pat slipped into the house and flung a bright-hued scarf over her brown dress with its neck-frill of pleated pink chiffon. She always thought she looked nicer in that dress than any other." (Pat of Silver Bush).

On the left: "Pat had on her blue linen afternoon dress...which, incidentally, was the most becoming thing she owned."(Pat of Silver Bush).

And bonus:

Robin Stuart

"She wore a dress of pale yellow taffeta, with a great rose of deeper yellow velvet at one of her beautiful shoulders. Jane thought she looked like a lovely golden princess, with the slender flame of the diamond bracelet on the creamy satin of her arm."(Jane of Lantern Hill).

"[M]other came in to kiss her good night, cool, slim and fragrant, in a dress of rose crêpe with little wisps of lace over the shoulders. Mother's blue eyes seemed to mist a little."(Jane of Lantern Hill).

"She wore a green dress the first time I saw her...well, if any other girl had worn the dress, it would have been a green dress and nothing more. On Robin it was magic ...mystery...the robe of Titania. I would have kissed the hem of it." (Jane of Lantern Hill).

Another bonus (because her style is so iconic):

Ilse Burnley

"Ilse in a yellow silk gown the colour of her hair and a golden-brown hat the colour of her eyes, giving you the sensation that a gorgeous golden rose was at large in the garden." (Emily's Quest).

"Ilse, a glorified shining creature in torquoise-blue taffeta, looking the queen with a foam of laces on her full bosom and rose-and-silver nosegays at her shoulder." (Emily's Quest).

Hope you enjoyed this little compilation:) Feel free to add more ideas!

[spiritualsimtatyana2000]

Tell Her (Asha x Simon)

It is a beautiful day after defeating the evil King Magnifico bringing the wishes back to others and making them come true... Simon starts to feel the happiness inside out. Simon waters the plants with a smile on his face.

"Hey Simon, what are you doing?" asked Gabo. "Just watering the new plants when they need some water," said Simon. "Hey, we see you smiling. What are you smiling about? You're in a good mood today?" said Gabo. "Yeah," said Simon. "It looks like you're swooning," said Hal. "Swooning? Nah," said Simon. "Are you in love with someone?" asked Gabo. "Well..." said Simon. "Tell us who," said Bazeema. "Oh, come on, it's just that I'm smiling that everything's all clear since Asha and us defeated King Magnifico. I'm pretty sure about that," said Simon. "Come on, tell us who are you having feelings for?" said Dario. "OK, you got me. I'm swooning and smiling, OK?" Said Simon, admitting that he was swooning happily. "Tell us, who's the girl you're in love with?" said Hal. "Hey, guys," said Asha who is walking by with Dahlia.

"Hey," said the others, saying hi to Asha. "Hi, Asha..." said Simon, who was blushing and now swooning over Asha. "Whoa, why do you sound like that?" said Safi. "Wait, it was Asha you're in love with," said Hal, shocked. "I knew it!" said Gabo. "Alright, you got me again. It was Asha, I've been starting to have feelings for her," said Simon. "When you didn't tell us you have a crush on her?" said Gabo. "Oh, come on, I just admitted it right now, I was just too nervous to tell her," said Simon. "Hey dude, don't be nervous. All you gotta do is to tell her how you feel like you gotta tell her that you love her," said Dario. "Geez, I don't know," said Simon.

"Loving her, it's easy to tell her how you feel..." sang Gabo, in a tone of Loving You by Minnie Riperton. "OK, I'll do it," said Simon, giggled. "Just be calm, be very heartwarming, and talk to her. Don't be nervous, Simon. Just tell her how you feel, take your time to cool or calm down before saying anything, OK?" Said Bazeema. "OK, I'll do my best to tell her that I love her more than a best friend," said Simon.

Meanwhile, Simon picked out the red roses and the pink roses from the rose bushes, harvesting them. Simon placed them together into the bouquet and put them in the vase of water, to make it look beautiful as a gift for Asha. He hears the books falling, he goes to what's going on. He sees the bookshelf in a room, fell off. "What's that sound? (gasps), your books! May I help you with them?" said Asha. "Sure, uh... Of course, you may," said Simon, in a nervous tone, but then calmly. Asha helped Simon pick up the books and then placed them on the shelf. Unaware that Simon was checking her out with him biting his lip, by looking at her chest. Asha placed the books back on the shelf. "Are you OK?" asked Asha.

"Oh... Yes, I'm OK. I'm just zoned out, that's all," said Simon, snapping himself out of it. "I see," said Asha. "There's something I should tell you, Asha. Something very... important and... something that you don't know about that I've been wanting to tell you," said Simon. "Yes?" said Asha. "Well, there's... Umm..." said Simon. "Tell me," said Asha, putting her hand on his shoulder to comfort him. "Remember that I apologized to you and the others about betraying you to become King Magnifico's knight?" said Simon. "Yes, is there something you're missing?" said Asha. "Yes, it's just that I... I..." said Simon.

Asha looked at him with a "Say something" grin expression on her face, and she went closer to his face. "There's something you should know that... I love you... More than a friend," said Simon. "Really?" said Asha, shocked with her eyes open. "Am I getting you angry? I don't want you to be upset when I'm telling you how I really feel, please don't get mad," said Simon.

Asha kissed him on the lips for the first time, having their beautiful, first kiss. "I'm not mad, Simon. Not at all, I do admit that I love you more than a friend, too. There's nothing to worry about, I love you, Simon." said Asha. "You're really beautiful, Asha," said Simon, grinning calmly. "Thanks," said Asha, responded with a smile. "Oh, and I got a gift for you," said Simon as he gave the bouquet of roses to Asha. Asha becomes love-amazed by the beautiful gift, she accepts the gift as she carries it.

They kissed passionately and then hugged. "Yes! Way to go, Simon!" whispered Gabo. The teens cheered quietly. "You the man, Simon!" said Safi. "That's so romantic, such a lovely couple in the world!" said Bazeema, happily. "I think I'm gonna cry seeing them together," said Dario, preparing to cry with joy. "Aww," said Bazeema, comforting Dario. "Way to go, Asha! Finally, they're in love," said Dahlia. They watched Simon and Asha becoming a couple, it was the best day of Simon's life.

The End

[riacte]

@treebarkweek 2023 Day 3: Saplings / Puppies!

(Probably biologically inaccurate and many creative liberties taken, but a really fun exercise nonetheless!)

One day, years and years after the Fall:

A young, spirited dogwood sapling emerges from the damp spring soil. It cautiously inspects its feeble, thin stalk and bright green leaves. "Well, not bad," it says. "At least winter's over, and spring's arrived."

The sapling doesn't know much, but it instinctively knows spring is the time for rebirth and growth. And so it likes the spring. But not much happens next— the ground is defrosting and it's quiet, but that's it. The sapling is alone, and it starts getting bored.

And then a persistent voice, small and desperate and coming from beneath the sapling:

"Helloooo? Is anybody freakin' there?! I'm so lonely down here!"

The sapling sways, pleasantly surprised. "Oh! Who are you?"

"I'm a rose seedling!" the voice says. "Erm, are you that tall, thin stick next to me? I can't see you!"

The sapling's tiny leaves rustle. "How rude!" it exclaims. "I'm a dogwood sapling, not a stick!"

"Whoops. Sorry." The seedling chuckles awkwardly. "Didn't mean to upset my only neighbour."

"Nah, it's okay. I'm in need of some company, actually."

There's a pause, then the seedling cries out, "Oh high and mighty sapling, at thou great height, do you see any others that may become our friends?" It ends with a hopeful tone.

The sapling feels pretty pleased at being called tall, but unfortunately it can't see anything from its height. "There's a grey stone wall next to me, but it seems to go on forever."

"Oh, really?" The seedling sounds sad. "That's all there is?"

"I guess it's just you and me in this world," the sapling says.

"Just you and me," the seedling echoes dramatically, and the sapling is amused.

"Just you and me, together forever."

"Forever!" The seedling sounds content.

The days pass. Sunshine peeks out from the clouds and covers them with a layer of warmth. Raindrops roll off their leaves and into the ground. It's still very quiet, but the sapling and the seedling talk whenever they can. They're both growing in the spring season, but the sapling grows faster, and is always taller than the seedling.

"I don't like this," the rose seedling declares one day. "I'm anxious! I'm respirating from places I shouldn't be respirating from! You're gonna become so tall that you won't be able to talk with me! You'll leave me, dude!"

"I mean, it's not like I want to!" the dogwood sapling responds. "I'm a tree. You're a bush. That's the way we are, dude."

"I don't like it," the seedling continues stubbornly. "I want to become a tree too. I wanna grow tall and grow old with you, my brother from another sapling."

The sapling holds back a sharp "that's not how it works at all" and indulges the seedling.

"By the way, if you're really a rose, why don't I see a single speck of red from up here?"

"Exsqueeze me?!" the seedling demands. "Art thou questioning my noble character? I'm just an innocent seedling! I haven't grown into a bush yet, let alone grow flowers, geez!"

"Well, one day, I'm gonna become a dogwood, you're gonna become a rosebush, and that's just how nature works," the sapling says briskly.

"And since you're a dogwood, are you gonna grow so tall that you'll be far far away from me?" The seedling sounds sad.

As silly as the rose seedling may be sometimes, the sapling has to admit it likes having it around. "I mean, I don't want to go far away. But it's my nature as a sapling. I have to go up, as high up as I can, get all that good sunshine, and survive. That's what we plants are meant to do. Survive."

"Well," the rose seedling says skeptically. "How about, y'know, making sure our leaves are shiny and our flowers are pretty? And attracting bees and making new friends?"

The sapling considers this. "That's nice, but in order to do that, we've got to survive. That's harder than it seems. You'll see."

The rain and the wind come in one dark night, and both the sapling and the seedling shed leaves. Thankfully, their stems are still strong and intact.

The days pass. They get their energy from the sun, their water from the ground. The sapling sprouts more and more leaves and stretches itself towards the sky.

"I wanna get my flowers," the rose seedling whines. "I wanna look pretty instead of having these ugly thorns and leaves."

"Hmm. You're always pretty to me," the sapling says to comfort its friend.

"Well, thank you," the seedling says eventually. "That's nice. I-I like that you think I'm pretty."

The sun sets, the sun rises. The dogwood sapling and the rose seedling spend their time chatting and enjoying the sunshine. The sapling is pretty glad that despite being close to the seedling, they aren't competing for nutrients with their roots. It'll be a pretty bad thing if their roots intertwine, it supposes.

"Have you ever wondered where we came from?" the rose seedling asks. "I've been thinking about that a lot lately. Y'know, the secrets of the universe."

"We obviously come from seeds," the sapling says, but now it's curious too. "Tell you what, one day I'll be taller than the stone wall, and I'll see what's outside of it. We'll make our theories when that day comes, okay?"

"Promise?" the rose seedling asks, a little pathetically.

The sapling's leaves sways in the wind. "Promise," it says in reassurance.

They both lose track of time. The sapling gets greedy and wants to get taller and taller. It marks its growth by every stone brick it reaches past. Nutrients are less abundant now, and it becomes a bit of struggle.

"You can have some of mine," the rosebush (not a seedling now) offers. "You need it to grow strong and tall, and I don't think I'll be growing flowers anyway."

Once upon a time, the young dogwood might've stolen from the rosebush, but that was back when it was a wee sapling. The rosebush is the dogwood's loyal (and only) companion. They're good friends. Good friends don't steal from each other.

"Take it," the rosebush insists. "I wanna know what's beyond that grey wall. I'm a useless bush anyway."

"You're not useless," the dogwood says, but finds itself unable to refuse the rosebush's offer. The dogwood thinks it won't ever be able to refuse the rosebush— the dainty, silly, but still wholly sincere rosebush.

So the rosebush shrivels up, and the dogwood flourishes. The dogwood doesn't like seeing its beloved friend suffer. The dogwood drops down its leaves as fertilizer for both of them.

"Stop shedding your leaves," the rosebush says, concerned.

"Then stop giving me your nutrients," the dogwood retorts.

Day by day, the dogwood and the rosebush grow apart. Despite that, they still manage to talk, although their voices grow smaller and smaller from the distance. The dogwood passes brick by brick, and it would've felt more pleased with itself if it could bring the rosebush with it.

One day, the rosebush screams excitedly, "I got a rosebud! I'll finally be pretty!"

"Congrats, dude," the dogwood says from above. It's sincere. "I think I can see it. A small, pink little thing. I'm proud of you."

"And I'm proud of you too. You have to be close to the end of the wall now."

"Yeah." The dogwood's not there yet, but it can see where the grey vanishes and becomes the blue sky. "Remember the pact we made when I was a sapling and you were a seedling? I'll tell you what I see beyond the wall when I reach it. It'll be any day now, I'm sure."

"And we'll magically figure out where we come from. But, y'know, I'm worried."

"About what?"

"That when you're taller than the wall, you'll be too far away to speak to me. Will that be worth it?"

That completely stops the dogwood in its tracks. Its leaves stop moving. "Err. Y-you're making me reconsider my entire life, dude."

"Umm, ignore me then. Don't respirate about it, dude. Keep on growing."

The rosebush gains more rosebuds. The dogwood is getting closer and closer to where the wall ends, its own white buds brimming on its branches. It's exciting, but also weirdly melancholic. The dogwood's life mission is about to be achieved. What will they see beyond the wall? What wondrous sights will they be greeted with?

"I think today's the day," the dogwood announces solemnly. It's a fully grown tree now, handsome and strong, and one of its branches is about to peek over the wall.

"Today's a good day for me too," the rosebush declares. "I think I'm going in full bloom mode, dude! I'm a happy rosebush!"

"Yeah, I think my flowers are ready too," the dogwood says, but it's mostly preoccupied with taking care of its branches. It can't afford to look pretty. The dogwood's branch is about to cross the previously insurmountable stone wall.

"I'm gonna do it," the dogwood promises. "I'll muster up my energy, and I'm doing it."

"Let's go! Ohh, I'm so freaking happy for you, dude. I'll hold your branch in support if I can. We're gonna find out what else is in the world!"

The dogwood's leaves tremble, and then it pushes its branch across the wall—

And nothing.

Nothing at all.

Well, it's not completely nothing. It's just— patches of untamed grass. Some wildflowers. Rocks. And the beautiful blue sky above them. Nothing they haven't guessed already.

The dogwood stares. And stares. When it finally turns back, it stills in complete shock.

Because from above, the dogwood finally sees where it and the rosebush came from.

Two skeletons, half buried by the soil, one plant emerging from each skeleton. The hands of the skeletons are intertwined. Hand in unlovable hand, still together in death. Down there, the rosebush is gazing up at the dogwood, its petals as red as the blood that was once spilled upon the soil that it grew from. The dogwood begins to bloom, soft white petals unfurling, as pure as the colour of snow.

In the dogwood's furious race to grow taller, it neglected to look down and see the whole picture. It didn't realise they were born from the remnants of two humans.

The dogwood wanted to see beyond the wall. The dogwood and the rosebush thought the wall was their ultimate obstacle. But no, they're wrong.

Because the stone wall protects them. What the dogwood wanted to see was within the walls all this time. And what the dogwood actually wants is within the walls.

Because within these walls is the dogwood's home.

And the dogwood's home is where the rosebush is.

-

Well, that was a fun if not wholly scientifically inaccurate writing exercise. Forgive my grammar mistakes because it's late at night haha.

Dogwood sapling Martyn and rose seedling Ren are so precious. I've grown attached now. This is some fantasy plant reincarnation AU I guess.

Thanks for reading! Anyways the dogwood and the rosebush live together happily ever after in the ruins of Dogwarts <3 <3

[laurelsofhighever]

Fandom: Dragon Age: Origins Characters/pairings: Alistair x Cousland Chapter: 11/? Rating: M Warnings: Canon-typical violence Fic Summary: The story of the Fifth Blight, in a world where Alistair was raised to royalty instead of joining the Grey Wardens.

Read on AO3!

--

Two more days of uneventful travelling brought the little group to the outskirts of civilisation, chilled and soggy under the pall of wet snow that had closed over them the night before. They had sheltered, shivering, in an abandoned barn, one of many along the old, paved road they were following, which had been in poor repair even before rumours of war had channelled carts and animals and the refugees who drove them out of the southern hinterlands. Now, it was a struggle to trudge through the lines of muddy, iced-over puddles where the flagstones left gaps, breath coming in harsh clouds of white fog and cold-numbed fingers tucked as much as possible under the folds of the oilskin cloaks Flemeth had been able to spare them.

“Lothering,” Alistair huffed when they finally paused for breath on a bluff overlooking the village. Thin banners of smoke rose from the hunched cluster of buildings in the settlement proper, and from the damp campfires dotted between the mass of grubby tents that spilled out over the southern boundary like flotsam from a shipwreck.

“Pretty as a painting.” He shot a sidelong grin to Rosslyn on his left. “I almost didn’t think we’d make it.”

“It’s a real sight, isn’t it?”

The new, reedy voice came from just off the road, from a small campsite set far enough back into the bushes that any travellers heading north would miss it on the way past. The thin, gaunt man it belonged to stepped out onto the path in front of them. Four others emerged after him, in front and behind to block their path, all in similar states of beggary with weapons drawn. Rosslyn’s own hand reached for her sword at the same moment Alistair stepped closer to guard her flank. The shiver of air along her spine told her that Morrigan, too, readied for an attack. She hoped it would not come. Though her shoulder had knitted together far faster than should be expected even with the aid of magical healing, the dull twinges that flared with every movement warned of the permanent damage that could be done if she got into a fight before the muscles fully recovered.  

“Let us pass,” she commanded from beneath her hood. At her side, Cuno growled his own threat, the sound a low vibration against her leg.

“Ah, the pretty one is in charge, I see,” the stranger cried, as if delighted. He looked malnourished, his hollow cheeks exaggerated by the cracked, ill-fitting leather armour strapped about his shoulders, the sour odour of his unwashed body an offence even from ten paces’ distance. Everything from his stance to the flashy, overly stiff grip of his sword screamed his lack of skill, even without the coating of rust on his neglected blade that would have gotten any squire in Castle Cousland flogged.

One of the other bandits shifted on his feet when she didn’t respond. “Uh… these ones don’t look much like them others,” he ventured. “Maybe we should just let them pass?”

“Nonsense,” the leader snapped, and turned a greasy smile on Rosslyn. “We have rules, you know. There’s a toll. A simple ten silvers and you’re free to move on.”

“You’re not very well dressed for tollkeepers,” Alistair noted. “Better hope Bann Dunstan’s militia doesn’t catch you preying on those fleeing the darkspawn.”

The man laughed. “Bann Dunstan went north with Teyrn Loghain, and took all his soldiers with him. There’s only a few templars left at the chantry now – so we’re taking the initiative.”

“You are fools to get in our way,” Morrigan told him with a sneer.

“Loghain came through here?” Rosslyn pressed, before the bandits could test the claim.

The leader shrugged. “Day before yesterday, leading his whole army and saying the Grey Wardens betrayed the king and got him and themselves killed.”

“That’s not –”

“No other survivors?” she interrupted.

“A few,” he answered. “Band of Ash Warriors came through yesterday – stayed right out of their way, I can tell you. But you aren’t Ash Warriors.”

“No?” she asked lightly. “We came from the south, we’re armoured and armed better than you, and I can tell you exactly how far the darkspawn are behind us. Are you really going to risk yourselves on a losing battle here when you could be running?”

“Uh… you don’t seem to realise –”

She feinted forward. He flinched, and she tilted a cold smile at him.

“Alright!” he huffed, throwing up his hands. “We’re just trying to get by, before the darkspawn get us all.”

“Then go,” she suggested. “And hope they don’t catch up.”

He risked a glance sideways at the campsite, one hand rising in a hopeless gesture that faltered with the deliberate step she took towards him, his eyes glued to the inch of white steel drawn from her scabbard.

“Those things don’t belong to you,” she reminded him.

“Yes, right.” He swallowed. “Of course. Come on, gents – it’s slim pickings here anyway.”

She kept her gaze on him as he stumbled backwards, tense in case of a double-cross, though she had spent enough time among her father’s hounds to know a beaten dog when she saw one. The patter of the rain fell heavily in the mud as he retreated with the rest of his miserable band slinking at his heels, reluctant, but not one daring enough to attack alone.

They would not remain cowed for long.

As soon as the last man retreated into the cover of the trees, Rosslyn turned and leapt the ditch between the road and the bandits’ makeshift camp, hissing a curse as her boot slipped on the landing and wrenched her shoulder.

“Uh… what are you doing?” Alistair asked, coming closer.

“Outfitting,” she replied. “Before they come back.”

“If they do, I say teach them a lesson,” Morrigan scoffed. She had stayed on the road, vigilant as a wolf with the distant scent of deer on the wind.

“The best way to win a fight is to not fight in the first place.” Busy hunting through the meagre spoils the bandits had managed to scrounge together, the adage came to Rosslyn’s lips almost without thinking. It crowded with others in her head, the stories retold by the hearth on winter nights that spoke not of the glory of battle but of the hardships that went between, nights of cold and hunger where morale wavered like a candle flame by an open window. There had been days, her father said, where the Orlesians had forced them to choose between the tired army and starving civilians.

Behind her, Cuno whined. A small animal, perhaps a yearling lamb, lay poorly spitted over the fire, its flesh half-cooked and the tips of its shanks beginning to burn. Drops of fat hissed as they surrendered to the flames. In the few days of travel from Flemet’s hut, the dog’s share of their meagre rations had been smaller than she would have liked, stretched as far as possible with grains but limited by all the things he couldn’t eat.

“Such a good boy,” she crooned, leaving off her inspection of a tatty bedroll to cut away one of the haunches for him. The heat of the bone warmed her numb fingers through the thick leather of her gauntlets, gone again the instant she wiped the juices away on the inside of her cloak.

“Are we taking this stuff, then?” Alistair tried. “You know it was stolen.”

“We’re taking what we can carry, what we need,” she corrected, without looking at him. “I don’t like it either, but you heard what he said about Loghain just as well as I did – we need all the advantages we can get.”

Morrigan delicately flicked a cleaning rag away from the rim of an engraved silver bowl so she could inspect it. “If the former owners of these items were foolish enough to allow themselves to be robbed, ‘tis no concern of ours.”

“The people who passed through here were desperate,” he insisted. “They had nothing else.”

“Neither do we,” Rosslyn reminded him, and sighed. “We can pass word in the village once we get there – maybe someone will come for what’s left.”

A long moment passed as he wrestled with his conscience, as the snow thickened overhead and Cuno crunched down the bones of his impromptu meal, until necessity overcame nobility and with a snarl at nothing in particular he tramped over to the bandits’ tent to dismantle it. Even through the thick layers of armour and cloak, the tension in his shoulders screamed loud enough that Rosslyn had to grit her teeth and turn away. She swiped a bag of dried provisions and a coinpurse from the bottom of an unlocked chest, and an extra cloak and bedroll that she hoped weren’t infested with lice, before hunting around for something that might serve to wrap the rest of the meat.

Further into the trees, they found a pair of tacked-up horses tied to the branch of a bare oak. One was of much finer quality than the other, with the tall, strong-boned confirmation of a knight’s charger, but both had been neglected, left to stand with no sign of fodder in a slurry of mud up to the fetlock.

“Ah, I see we are to rescue every pathetic creature that wanders across our path,” Morrigan commented as Rosslyn ran her hands over the destrier’s legs to check for swelling.

She shot a glare over her uninjured shoulder. “Would you prefer to carry the tent?”

--

With their baggage now strapped to the horses, the last stretch of the journey took less than an hour. By the time they reached the outskirts of Lothering, the blizzard had eased and a glance of pale sunlight managed to slip past the bars of cloud. The squalor it illuminated rose bile in the back of Rosslyn’s throat as surely as the smell. Families huddled beneath scavenged yards of cloth trying to stay dry as the few campfires still burning billowed acrid curls of smoke, their meagre possessions kept within sight and easy reach.

“I wonder, Alistair,” Morrigan commented as they passed through the gauntlet of wan, wary stares, “why do none of them recognise you? You passed through Lothering on the journey south, did you not?”

“I was considerably better dressed then,” he pointed out, but pulled the hood of his cloak lower over his forehead nonetheless. “It’s probably for the best that we’re not recognised, if what that bandit said about Loghain is true. It does make you wonder what all these people are waiting for, though. They have to know the darkspawn aren’t that far away.”

Morrigan clicked her tongue. “‘Tis not our concern if they wish to sit like rams waiting for the wolf.”

They trudged further in silence, until the cobbles of the road once more emerged from beneath the quagmire of the squatters’ field. In the distance, the tower of the village chantry rose above the lines of shingle roofs, its pennants flashing with gold-embroidered sunbursts. If any organised retreat existed, the templars would have charge of it, though to judge from the blasphemous ravings of the merchant they passed arguing with a lay sister, their grasp on order was tenuous at best.

“Please, sers – have you seen my mother?”

Rosslyn stopped cold. A small boy, older than Oren but not by much, and with lighter hair, huddled under the eaves of an empty doorstep, clutching a scrawny, point-eared mongrel about the neck. His clothes were thin and ragged at the hems, smeared with the dirt that also smudged its way across his cheek.

“Your mother?” she repeated, fighting back the shake of double vision.

“She’s really tall, and she has red hair,” the boy said hopefully. “Some mean men with swords came and Mother told me to run to the village as fast as I could, so I did. She said she’d be right behind me, but I’ve been waiting and waiting and I can’t find her.”

“Do you know where your father is?”

The boy’s gaze turned briefly to Alistair before settling on the dirt. “He went with William to the neighbours’ yesterday, but he didn’t come back.”

“‘Tis likely your parents are dead,” Morrigan told him, without sympathy. “Waiting for them here is pointless.”

“That’s not true!” The boy wiped his nose on his sleeve. “She said she’d come.” But his lip trembled, and he drew his arms tighter around the dog.

“Here,” Rosslyn interrupted, reaching to her side before the tears could truly come. “Get yourself something to eat, then go to the chantry. It’ll likely be the first place your mother will look for you.”

With a hearty sniff, the boy peered dubiously at the offering before lighting up in glee, his worry forgotten. “A whole silver!” He made to grab for it, then remembered his manners. “Thank you – you’re a really nice lady, kind of like mother.”

“Go on,” she commanded with a rough jerk of her head, and watched him disappear through the crowd.

“Poor thing,” Alistair muttered. He rounded on Morrigan. “Did you have to do that?”

“I only spoke the truth,” she retorted.

“And what good did it do?” Rosslyn demanded.

“What good is a silver to someone who will likely soon be prey to the darkspawn?”

In terms of cold practicality, the point was well barbed; it fired clean and struck true, even if the silver for the boy’s meal had come from an already-stolen purse. Rosslyn’s hands curled into fists nonetheless, the image before her eyes smeared not with mud from the gutter, but with blood.

“You don’t know that,” she growled.

“Denial will not –”

“I won’t argue this.” She drew in a steadying breath and clucked at the horses to walk on. “We should get to the chantry.”

Morrigan scowled at her. Alistair, too, held a wary edge in his posture, as if daring himself to ask whether she was alright, but she ignored them both to push on through the crowd of people milling about without much seeming purpose at all. Most wore the simply stitched clothes of farmholders, bundled up against the cold in cloaks of thick wool. A few, wealthier, had rabbit or squirrel trim about the collar, but none could be considered truly rich in their dress, and like the refugees beyond the village boundary they all kept close watch of their belongings, heads bowed like workhorses at the plough as they hurried about their business. Clearly, any with the means to leave had already made their escape.

Further on, a crowd had gathered in the lee of the chantry wall, their number shifting uneasily as a wiry man in the leather tunic and cross-tied cloak of a Chasind trader gesticulated at them from atop an overturned crate. His hair was lank and matted, his hose stained with mud to the thigh, and wild exhaustion creased the sun-darkened skin around his eyes.

“The legions of evil are on your doorstep!” he cried. “They will feast upon our hearts!”

“At last, someone who seems to understand the situation,” Morrigan noted dryly.

“There! One of their minions is already amongst us!”

Several faces turned in the direction of his point, and murmured amongst themselves as their eyes landed on Rosslyn, trying to guide her horse to the quieter side of the road. Travel-worn she might be, and scowling like a thundercloud, but a disappointing comparison to the monsters that haunted the dark edges of their bedtime stories.

“Prettiest darkspawn I ever saw,” someone laughed. “If they’re all like that, maybe I should join up.”

“This woman bears their evil stench!” the man insisted, spit flying from his lips. “Can you not see the vile blackness that fills her? The darkspawn will cover the world like a plague of locusts, and she is but the beginning! There is nowhere to run – better to slit your children’s throats now than let them suffer at darkspawn hands!”

Rosslyn stopped. Her lip twisted in a moment of indecision before she dropped the leading rein and started into the crowd with Cuno at her heels. Above, a bank of cloud shifted again and covered the sun, so that as she advanced, with onlookers scrabbling out of her way and drawn in her wake to see what would happen next, the sky darkened and the little warmth left bled from the air.

“I am not your enemy,” she declared, when she finally stood before her accuser.

“You are but the first of those who will destroy us!”

“What’s going on here?”

The Wilder shrank from the bite of the new voice, from the two soldiers in Gwaren Black fighting through the ranks of people, shoving with the hafts of their polearms when someone was too slow to move.

“You again!” spat the taller one, who had a sergeant’s band around his upper arm. “We’ve warned you. Move along, and stop causing trouble.”

“You would punish me, but not this thing of evil?” the wilder demanded. “Look on her! See the corruption thick in her veins.”

The soldiers were already looking, eyes half-lidded in affected disdain as they measured her. She stood, half a head taller than either of them, and glared coolly back.

“You’re well-armed, traveller,” the sergeant said. “Come from the south, did you?”

“Most recently,” she allowed.

The man scratched his chin. “No sigil, and no company. No mercs that I saw at Ostagar, and an honest soldier would wear a liege lord’s colours. Corrupted, you say?” he added, turning to the Wilder. “That sounds like a Grey Warden to me. I think we’ve just been blessed.”

“In what manner?” Rosslyn asked. These were not desperate farmers driven to banditry; all reports said Loghain trained his soldiers hard, ever fearful of a new invasion from Orlais, and they would not tuck their tails like scolded mongrels if she merely bared her teeth. She stood relaxed, drawn up to her full height despite the pain it brought to her shoulder.

“There’s a bounty out for traitors,” he leered.

As his hand shifted for a firmer grip on his polearm, his gaze slid to a point to Rosslyn’s left and widened in disbelief. A red-haired woman in the dawn-coloured cloth of a lay sister slipped into the open space the crowd had drawn around the confrontation, her graceful fingers splayed palm to palm in the sign of the sunburst as she placed herself gently as a feather between the soldiers and their hoped-for prize.

“Surely there is no need for trouble, gentlemen,” she said, her voice low and melodic, lilting with the precise inflections of court Orlesian. “No doubt this is but another poor soul seeking refuge.”

The sergeant gestured with his weapon. “Stay out of our way, sister, or you’ll get the same, chanter’s robes or no. The Wardens killed the king, or haven’t you heard?”

The crowd tensed. Rosslyn didn’t move. Out of the corner of her eye, she spied Alistair hanging in the first line of onlookers, his stance and sword ready to aid her should any real fighting erupt, though he kept his hood low over his face, hunched to disguise his height. She could worry about his silence later, but for now she was glad neither Morrigan nor the horses were with him.

“It is no excuse for ambushing –”

“Loghain is the one who betrayed the king!” she called out over the Chantry sister’s misgivings, a clarion note on the dull air as she circled to once again stand before her opponent. “When the moment came for his support in the battle, he turned and fled, and left King Cailan and the Wardens to be overwhelmed. Their sacrifice is the only reason the darkspawn are not already swarming at your door.”

“Lies!” the sergeant spat. “This isn’t even a true Blight!”

“When the moment came,” she repeated, in a voice like winter, “he chose cowardice over loyalty.”

The insult struck. With a bellow like a bull the sergeant charged, polearm lowered to skewer her. She was ready. Whistling two quick notes, she stepped into the attack and drew her sword to parry the blow, the movement a graceful arc into his guard that slammed down into a pommel strike against his neck that sent him to the floor. His companion yelled a protest, but before he could intervene, Cuno’s massive jaws clamped around his arm. Surprise broke off into screams as he was borne to the ground and shaken like a dust rag. There was crack of bone.

“Alright!” the sergeant cried, as the crowd swayed, sickened by the sound. “Alright! You’ve won – we surrender!”

Rosslyn, her sword laid like a whisper against his neck, whistled once. In an instant her dog let go and backed off, though his thunderous growls still reverberated through the space, and left no doubt about his intentions should anyone else dare to attack his mistress. A few lost snowflakes drifted down against the stones.  

“They have learned their lesson now, I think,” the Chantry sister said, calmly, as if the soldiers had lost a chess match and weren’t both lying in the dirt, the one cringing against a white steel blade and the other cradling his bloodied, broken arm. “We can all stop fighting now.”

“Can we?” Rosslyn asked of the sergeant.

Eyes wide, he nodded. “Maker bless you for your mercy, ser!”

“My mercy,” she repeated. “There’s precious little of it. I want you to be of use to me.”

“Anything – anything!”

“You’re going to take a message to Loghain,” she said.

“Uh, what –” He swallowed. “What do you want to tell him?”

She glanced up and met Alistair’s eyes, the lines of his mouth pinched in worry as he slowly shook his head to urge her to caution. For a moment, her jaw clenched around the desire to rebel, to issue a challenge like those her ancestors had laid down before their enemies, a bright, shining pennant to unfurl across a battlefield, a streak of midnight intent, but the urge bled from her as she once again felt the ugly itch of the whispers in the back of her mind. Loghain possessed an army, and in sacrificing the Wardens had excused it the obligation of stopping the Blight; for now, Alistair’s survival, and her own identity, were the only tactical advantages they had.

“Tell him there are those who know what he did,” she growled. “And that we will see justice done for it.”

She took her blade away, and kicked him for good measure as he scrambled to his feet His lackey stumbled after, cowering away as she flexed out the rush of the battle-blood that made her fingers shake. She would pay for that burst of action later. All eyes were fixed on her, or on Cuno nosing up under her hand for a scratch behind the ear. Even the Chantry sister, who seemed far less bothered by the violence than should be expected, watched with curiosity to see what would happen next.

Her father would have known what to say; he would have chided her for shrinking back from her duty.

“I am a Grey Warden,” she told the gathered crowd. “Listen to me – the darkspawn are coming. King Cailan bought you time, but it is falling away and they cannot be stopped. They do not reason. If you do not leave, you will die.”

“Coward’s talk!” someone shouted.

“We’ll show ‘em if they dare creep out of the Wilds!”

“Maybe the Wardens killed the king and you’re trying to cover it up!”

The Chantry sister raised her hands. “Good people, please –”

“If it is so safe here, then why did the bann flee north?”

The voice did not come from one of the villagers, but from Morrigan. Her disdain rang so clear that it might have been amplified by magic, and it blunted the anger of the crowd into a low, uncertain buzz that faded entirely into silence as the lay sister once more stepped forward to address them.

“Please, do not despair,” she said. “The Maker sent this Grey Warden as a warning, to help us in our hour of need.”

“Do you think we should tell her who actually sent us?” Alistair muttered in Rosslyn’s ear as he sidled up to her.

“It would be interesting to see how things could get worse,” she muttered back.

“You handled those soldiers pretty well – I’d almost forgotten how scary you were in the lists.”

Disbelieving, she glanced at him and found nothing but sincerity in his shrouded features, a soft trust that stung not least because part of her wanted to throw back his hood and show him to the people in all disregard for sense. Such a move would certainly make them listen, but if Loghain had truly put out a bounty for captured Grey Wardens, how much more would he be willing to pay for Cailan’s only heir? Perhaps, at least until they met with Arl Eamon, it would be safer to pretend he was another Grey Warden instead, to shield him with her own status as much as it was her duty as a Cousland to shield him with her body.

As she mulled this over, the crowd succumbed to the lack of fresh entertainment and let itself be chivvied back about its business, clearing the path to Morrigan and the main doors of the chantry that had been their first destination. The lay sister remained, a demure smile upon her face as she waited for them to notice her.

“Thank you for intervening, Sister,” Alistair said. “We’re glad the crowd decided to listen to you.”

“I couldn’t just sit by and not help,” came the reply. “Though from your display of skill I see my aid was not required.”

“A welcome attempt nonetheless,” Rosslyn told her.

The woman smiled and dipped into a curtsey. “Then I am glad. Perhaps, if you wish it, I can offer further assistance by escorting you to the chantry?”

[todayinmagicalgirlhistory]

Hello I am a black electric witch and I was wondering how do you in particular enter the fae?

If you're talking about how to enter Faerie itself:

There are various methods. I personally use astral travel, but there's lucid dreaming, meditation, ecstatic dance, etc. that you can also use as methods for entering this realm. Some may rely on a faerie to take them there and I can only stress that if you are going to rely on that particular method, this faerie needs to be someone you'd trust with your social security number and your credit card details. Don't trust a random person with that information and don't trust a random faerie to take you to Faerie without stipulations.

But if you meant specifically how to begin interacting and working with the fae:

Methods can vary depending on the fae local to your area and/or the faeries you're trying to attract to your space. A close non-practicing friend of mine accidentally invited a brownie into her home when she got really into baking and would leave her freshly baked goods out to cool overnight. Then stopped doing it when she lost the time for baking and subsequently, accidentally pissed that brownie off.

If you're interested in sea-faring fae, then leaving out coral, sea glass, pearls, etc. will be appealing to them. Or if you're interested in death fae like banshee or dullahan, then the best things you can leave out are grave dirt, apples (Irish symbol of the dead), bones and things of that nature.

If you're interested in a specific kind of faerie but you're sincerely doubtful that you live in an area where those kinds of faeries would frequent, then I'd recommend a spirit attraction spell that essentially acts as a 'HEY, IF YOU'RE INTERESTED COME OVER TO MY PLACE' beacon. A good one I know of, not made by me, is to get a white candle, carve a sigil into it that's something along the lines of 'attract (insert kind of spirit) to my home' and then let the candle burn through the sigil.

The creator of that spell does have a major disclaimer though that this doesn't control how many will stop by your place so they recommended to immediately blow out the candle the moment it burns through the sigil.

If you're not interested in the specifics, then leaving fae-favored gifts out in a spot for local fae to take interest as a sign that you are hoping to establish a relationship with them. In one particular case, I left a dried rose petal filled with honey and cinnamon under a flower bush and that was how I met the faerie from my Hair Toucher story.

In all my advice to attract faeries to your home though, I of course stress that your home is well-warded and you have very set and established house rules that won't have any chance of getting loopholed.

I will also advise that, if you establish a relationship with a faerie where they will expect regular gifts then make it one that you know you can manage. If you're like my friend I mentioned who was pretty much baking every night, that brownie built up the expectation that they would be receiving new baked goods in exchange for looking after my friend's home every night. Then that stopped because my friend didn't even notice she had a brownie in her home and she started losing things around her house and having nightmares on the regular.

Not all relationships with the fae are that... transactional, for lack of a better word. It all completely depends on the standards you set for the relationship. For instance, with my selkie and banshee friends, there's no regular gifts at all. Just pure companionship.

If the way you attracted fae to your home was by leaving cream out every Friday, the fae you invited into your life will be expecting cream left out every Friday. So if you go that route, I would recommend setting a schedule that is easier for you to work with and if something comes up to let the fae know you'll have to skip your usual day.

[smilesrobotlover]

SMILES :D

I like actually have energy to tumblr so I just wanted to pop in, give you a hug, and ask how was your day?

What are Zelda and Edmund up to right now? What about Rusl and the family?

It’s raining in Zora’s Domain, are Mipha and Link out in it or staying indoors?

I’m just gonna bounce around and vibe with your blorbos, trying to rev up to do homework and shower and write Blood of the Hero <3

LOFTY!!!! :DDDD

Yayyyy hi lofty my beloved 🫂🫂🫂🫂 my day is good, I kinda lazed around a lot (my new contract is stressing me out but hopefully it’ll all work out) drew a lot of stuff for lbl and I just finished a test that I did pretty good on so rn I’m feeling relieved and tired XD

Zelda and Edmund are simply in the gardens enjoying the rose bushes. And now that I’m thinking about that, Edmund reminds me of a rose more than a chrysanthemum… ugh. He’s pretty but very prickly.

Rusl and the fam are simply eating family dinner together! The whole fam! Kori and Rela are bein kinda loud and the dinner is kind of a mess cuz everyone tried to pitch in but it’s a lovely dinner nonetheless

Mipha is outdoors enjoying herself while Link is watching lovingly under shelter :)

And yayyyy!!! :D I still got some homework to do but I wanna start writing the stuff for Minish soon. Hopefully I can get this last bit done asap

[cedarboughs]

Hiking Journal

November 11 — Raven’s End

Yamnuska — Îyâmnathka, “flat-faced mountain” in Nakoda — has got to be one of the most iconic mountains in the Rockies. It’s known as a sacred mountain which watches over a rich medicine foraging plain. Heading into the Bow Valley it’s basically the first rock of the Rockies, watching over the wide valley through which the river, railway, new highway, and old road wind in parallel.

It was grey and overcast in that November way on this Remembrance Day, but pleasantly warm for the season, rising to a high of 11° if I remember. The plan had been at some point to do a hike with work friends but they called it in so I drove out on my own, listening to The Apache Relay and a podcast about Herman Hesse’s Siddhartha as I left the city and rolled over the foothills (I’d just finished reading it, was pretty good.) Speaking of books, that’s why Raven’s End, the eastern buttress of Yamnuska’s great cliff, lives rent-free in my head.

See, Ben Gadd is a legend. Most of the times in the last thirty years that anyone has looked up an animal, plant, mushroom, or geological formation in the Rockies, it’s probably been in Gadd’s practically biblical Handbook of the Canadian Rockies. In his full page entry on corvus corax he makes it pretty clear what his favourite clever local bird species is. If there was any further question, he also wrote Raven’s End, sort of the Albertan answer to Watership Down. I don’t know if the novel is named after the buttress or if the book named the buttress. The book was published in 2001, and I haven’t figured out if the name was used to refer to the spot on the mountain before then or if Gadd named it.

Anyway, I read this book a half-dozen times growing up. In the story, a raven wakes up with from a fall into a bush at the base of Yamnuska’s cliff with no memory aside from his name, Colin. He falls in with Zack and Molly and all the other ravens of the Raven’s End flock. He speaks with the animals of the valley, wonders about the strange two-legged visitors, and hears the voice of the wind, leading to an adventure rooted equally in spirituality and magic and in the ecology of the mountains. I can’t spoil what he does discover about his history. Go pick up a copy and find out.

Most of the trail up to Raven’s End is pretty gradual and easy. Being a public holiday, it was super busy as well. Families with a half-dozen young children, couples with two or three dogs. I had bear spray and layers and food, as if I was ready for a proper backcountry walk, but it was more bustling than most downtown streets. Little grew in the late autumn, but plenty of red wild rose hips stood out at the tips of thorny shrubs. I did chew one. Don’t tell Parks. A couple sat on the bluffs overlooking the wide reserve land in the rolling hills below and eastward, performing a ceremony with a tobacco pipe and shakers. I heard their singing washing over the woods before I actually saw them as I walked past and shared a nod.

Treeless montane aspen gave way to subalpine firs. The ground changed from dissolving brown leaves to red needle duff. A little bit of snow stuck to the ground at the elevation of Raven’s End itself, very thin and packed down, no obstacle of any sort, just a reminder that winter was near. Arguably here, but I don’t feel like arguing. More importantly: I did, in fact, see the ravens!

The start of the cliff is the usual and my planned turnaround point, but as i ate my human sandwich sitting on a rock, a group of church ladies chatting with me said that it was as worth at least going through the first slim crack of the scrambly section for the view beyond. I love climbing through cracks and dramatic rocks like this, so they were totally right.

Beyond the chimney you can look down to CMC Valley (I don’t know what this stands for, but it’s the valley behind Yamnuska; I may do that loop sometime) and, right to left, the twin peaks of Mount Wendell and the more westerly Morrowmount. Yes I switched the usual reading direction to end with MORROWMOUNT, because it sounds like something out of a fantasy novel.

Looking up at the backside of Yamnuska it look easy enough to scramble the route, it’s popular to scramble, and I do really want to do that, but not in the snow, not alone, not with a warm but forceful Chinook wind blasting from the west, and not with the last interpretive sign mentioning risk of death three times on the one sign. I turned around and descended, plunge-running past the kids and dogs back to the car and home.

[such-familiar-distance]

These are some short bits that were going to be part of a 5+1 other ways Kal and Marcus met, but I don't think I'm going to finish them. The Marcus/Lucian AU started as one of these and blew up into its own thing.

1.

“What are you doing in here?”

“Pruning the rose bushes, what are you doing?” the blond said, straightening up to sit back on his heels and regard Marcus with a skeptical look.

The blond stood to wipe his hands on his apron before holding a hand up to Marcus to shake. Marcus took it, too surprised not to. “Arent Geertruidae,” the blond said as he gave Marcus a clear up and down look.

He'd never shaken hands with a helot before, even one with a notched ear. “Marcus Hortensiae,” he said, and then immediately regretted it for the momentarily embarrassed look that passed over Arent’s pretty face.

“Ah,” Arent said. “Your mother hired me to look after the roses. Master,” he added as an afterthought. “This is my first time working at the house.” He smiled crookedly. “My mother told me to be polite.”

3.

“My father in law got him for me,” Cyril sighed. “Said his sort of look is fashionable right now but you know how I feel about all that.” Master Cyril had made it very clear that he had eyes only for his wife.

“I could take him off your hands,” Arent said, too casually. Marcus could feel Arent looking him over from the corner of his eye. “I could use a brute to haul crates at the studio.” Marcus scowled at the floor, too petulant; that was why Cyril didn't want to keep him.

“Would you?” Cyril asked, sitting up. “Then my father in law won't complain about it forever.”

“Sure, why not,” Arent said with a lazy wave of his hand. “Let's play dice, throw him in as your stake.”

“Lodewyck said you like a bit of rough,” Cyril said, reaching for the dice.

4.

“I don't sleep with clients,” Arent said, despite the clear look over he gave Marcus as their hands brushed on the coffee cup. Marcus could hear his brother Lucius in the other room asking the old man doing his portrait where the coffee was.

“I'm not a client,” Marcus said brightly. “I'm just chaperoning one.”

Arent bit his lip with a smile, about to say something to that, when Joost cut in. “Flirt on your own time, boy,” the horrid old man said as he came to get the coffee.

5.

“New froshers, Marcus!” Julius yelled, hauling a pretty blond boy down the corridor with him.

Arent gave him a shy smile through his lashes. Maybe the year wouldn't be so bad after all. Marcus had said he wouldn't come back for the last year of finishing school, but he hadn't known he'd be paired with such a pretty first-year.

[dru-reblogs-stuff]

Updates from the Balcony

I know it's autumn, and nothing much is doing in the plant world, but I got a new addition recently, so I thought I'd do an overall update anyway.

So I'd like you to say hello to "Oh shit - I already forgot it's name", which is some kind of Dendrobium. It's another adoptee, this time from the garden of the husband of one of my Mum's personal care clients.

Apparently his had flowered and Mum commented it looked very pretty, so when it gave pups, he offered one to her and suggested I take the other one (because I guess she mentioned I'm also very into my green critters?). Apparently it's 'like an orchid' (having never had an orchid this doesn't help me in the slightest) and won't flower until it's matured a bit more. So that'll be exciting to see what happens with it.

Since I was taking pics anyway, I figured I should do a small round up of what everything else is doing.

The cyclamen is still looking nice in the flower 'bed'. The Armada Rose is going over, I think, and the dianthus is at least still green.

The blueberry bush has it's autumn colours and looks quite pretty, even if those black spots are a little concerning...

It's been determined that the winter heather has indeed gone kaput, which is a bit disappointing. Maybe I'll buy myself another and, like, actually remember to take care of it over summer 😅️

The tomato plant has gone! We had the last few toms off it mid-October when I came back from Denmark, and it finally left the house last Thursday, chopped down into a paper bag to be composted at my Mum's.

Everything else is chugging along. The Aloe got shifted a little from it's previous spot, but doesn't seem to mind. The Bird of Paradise, Zebra and Cactus maybe need a little more water than they've been getting, as the house has retained more warmth than usual, but otherwise are doing nicely.

The Amaryllis is going to be a challenge. Because it flowers during Feb, I've had to set a reminder to start watering and feeding it at the start of December, otherwise I don't think it's going to flower again. If it doesn't, this'll be the third time in a row it hasn't flowered, and that means it's destined for the compost heap. So I'd like to avoid that if possible.

The biggest issue with the plants right now, is this fella:

Sir! You are Spring bulb! You should not be sprouting at this time!

This tub holds the Crocus and Snowdrop bulbs I planted at the end of September. I'm not sure which of the two that is, but I'm very sure it shouldn't be out yet. IDK, maybe I should cover it over again? I don't want it to get frost-bitten... I will keep y'all posted on this miscreant.