#this year is the year of throwing caution to the wind. it sounded better when Shilpa was singing the line

[theinfinitedivides]

'start that music / in the name of the Lord' exactly what is Bollywood coming to

[sometimesanalice]

Sun Stroke

Summary: It’s been a few months since you’ve broken up with your boyfriend and moved to San Diego. And when Rooster and his teammates introduce you to Dogfight football, you know you’ll never be the same again. Hard pressed and out of sorts, you take matters into your own hands.

Pairing: Bradley ‘Rooster’ Bradshaw/Female Reader

Length: 8k

Warnings: smut, mentions of masturbation, an ode to the jorts.

(author's note: this is a prequel to the 'Like I Can' series, however it can be read on its own!)

Bradley Bradshaw was a dead man.

The hangover you’d woken up with was 100% his fault for pressing that final Blue Moon into your hand last night at the Hard Deck.

It had been a couple years since the last time the two of you had seen each other in person and even longer since you’d both lived in the same city, but he knew you. And he without a doubt knew better than to order you another drink when you were already fighting back the giggles.

But what were you going to do, not drink a free beer paid for by your longtime best friend? Not to mention the way he’d teasingly called you a lightweight in a way that sounded a little too much like a dare.

You’d only moved to San Diego a little over a month and a half ago, and maybe if you were going to own up to the role you played in earning this headache, you probably should have known better than to try and keep up with the group of aviators. But since he’d been the one to drive and you were having a good time, you’d thrown caution into the wind and cheers-ed his glass with your own with a grin.

Bad choices shouldn’t taste so good.

It was a citrus-kissed mistake you were paying for now with your head pounding as you rushed around your apartment in a frenzy trying to throw your things together to get out the door to meet everyone at the beach. It’s a feat that would have been so much more manageable if you hadn’t been surrounded by a sea of cardboard boxes, all in various stages of unpacked disarray. It’s an inconvenient maze made by your own procrastination.

Those pain relievers you’d popped not too long ago couldn’t kick in quick enough.

You were running late. You hate being late.

And the way your phone keeps pinging is stressing you out even further. You know it’s Bradley and you’ve been ignoring it in favor of trying to get your act together. It goes off again, barely a minute since the last text had come through, but this time you pause your rummaging to check it.

🔴 Rooster, 11:10 AM: where are you??

🔴 Rooster, 11:17 AM: on a scale from 1-10 how bad is your hangover?

🔴 Rooster, 11:22 AM: tick tock, kid.

🔴 Rooster, 11:23 AM: bring me a coffee?

You roll your eyes at the nerve of that last one. He was going to have to beg Jimmy to make him a tar-like pot from the Hard Deck’s ancient coffee maker if he wanted any. If you were suffering through a hangover, he could suffer through being undercaffeinated.

It didn’t help that you were feeling more high strung than usual. Your vibrator had died before you could finish last night and you’d meant to buffer in time for a quick orgasm this morning, but then you’d slept through your alarm.

You hadn’t had sex since you’d broken up with your ex almost three months ago. While you were doing just fine on your own, you were getting tired of the feel of your own hands and fingers.

When your boss had mentioned the promotion that he wanted to put you forward for, you were elated until he mentioned it would involve relocating to the West Coast office. You’d been on the fence, it was the next step towards your dream job, but you were content with your life in Boston. That night when you had casually mentioned the possibility of it to your boyfriend at the time, it seemed clear to you that it would be an either-or situation.

Either you’d stay in Boston with him or you’d move to San Diego on your own.

Not wanting to rock the boat, you didn’t mention it again. Even though you were still weighing the choice in your mind. It wasn’t until a phone call with Bradley, that you’d finally settled on the right choice for you. After breaking it off with your ex, the two of you had essentially lived like roommates until you’d left without a look back.

At the time, you thought it had been a brilliant idea to use some of your less worn clothes as packing protection for your things. But now as you desperately dig through your third box labeled Bedroom looking for the sporty black and white one piece with the zipper that you know you have but can’t seem to find, you’re starting to think you might be the biggest idiot on the West Coast.

The only beach appropriate thing you’d been able to find in your frantic searching was the bright red scalloped bikini you’d bought a few years ago for a bachelorette party in Tulum wrapped around a set of pretty glass candle holders. And while it made your boobs look great, it was much sexier and revealing than what you were going for to meet up with the Daggers on their home turf.

When your phone dings yet again, you finally admit defeat and give up on your search. In a huff, you put on the bikini, giving the bow behind your neck a good tug before pulling up your denim shorts with a couple jumps, trying to speed things along.

Earlier, you’d found the sticky note that said “FRIDGE!!!” underlined a few times by a heavy hand on top of the beach bag you vaguely remember packing for yourself the night before. The soft cooler bag covered with cheerful palm leaves had been haphazardly shoved onto the top shelf and was now sitting by the front door with the rest of your things, including the low sitting pink and white striped beach chair that Bradley had given to you as a ‘Welcome to San Diego’ gift.

You take one more passing glance around your apartment you look for any stray item that might have been missed- not that you’d be able to spot anything anyways through the cardboard battleground that is your apartment- and then you’re shoving your feet into your sandals and flying out the door in a flurry.

Pulling into the private lot of the Hard Deck, you park in the open spot next to your best friend’s blue Bronco. The bar wouldn’t be open until later, but Penny had given the group of aviators’ carte blanche parking perks. It was something you were especially thankful for as you slung the heavy bags over your shoulder.

The warm coastal breeze and briny salt air were clearing the cobwebs from your head.

Even though the feel of it drifting over your bare skin reminded you of just how exposed you were in just your skimpy bikini top and frayed denim shorts, you’d only realized when you were halfway to the beach that you’d forgotten to put a shirt on in your haste to get out the door. But you were sure you’d packed an oversized linen shirt to cover up with if the sun got to be too hot.

As you pass by the well maintained, but sun-bleached patio, you see Penny sitting at one of the picnic tables with her laptop. She waves when she sees you and you raise the iced latte you’d stopped for up to her in greeting, as much as you can without having the beach chair slip off your shoulder.

Further down the beach, you see the group of energetic aviators. Nat looked a bit like an orchestral conductor the way she is directing the finishing touches on the set up. You weren’t too late, just fashionably so, but you were already planning to buy them all a round of drinks later anyways. Even though it’s just a casual hang out, you still want to make a good impression with Bradley’s friends.

It was been one of the things you’d been most worried about moving here. Rooster had opened the door for you to get to know his friends, but you didn’t want to be just an extension of your best friend in the way it felt like you had been in high school. You really liked these people and wanted to make your own friendships with them too.

You’re more than regretting the choice to try and bring everything in one go, with the way the sand is shifting under your feet and how your beach bag and chair keep bumping against each other with every step you take. And just as you’re contemplating ditching them for the moment to circle back for after you get rid of the cooler bag that’s weighing you down, you see Fritz nudge Bradley, pulling his attention away from his phone and pointing in your direction.

The wide grin that appears on his face is immediate and you feel the corners of your own mouth pulling up. California looked good on him. He seemed happier and lighter here, more like the boy you knew from back home. The one he’d been before he lost his mom and the man who’d helped raise him. You hope that one day it’ll look just as good on you. He gives the other man a quick pat on the back before he’s setting off towards you in an easy jog.

“Hey, where’s mine, kid?” Bradley asks, nodding to your drink with its ice cubes now more than half melted before effortlessly taking the heavy bag from you.

You’re so grateful for his help- now that you can feel your arm again- that you almost forget that you’re supposed to be annoyed at him.

“You know what you did, Br-adshaw,” you retort, catching on his name and hoping he could feel your attempt at a glare from behind your dark sunglasses.

It was a change you were still getting used to. You’ve known him since you were eight, he’s always been Bradley to you. But you’d caught on very quickly that everyone else here only ever seemed to call him ‘Rooster’ or ‘Bradshaw’. And he’d grinned so widely the first time you’d called him by his callsign that it seemed like a confirmation to the question you’d been too apprehensive to ask.

The man didn’t even have the courtesy to look guilty, the all too knowing smirk on his face confirmed everything you already knew, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” 

“Mhmm, sure,” you say, flatly pressing your lips together in an unamused line. You’re tempted to flip him off now that you have a free hand, but you don’t want to give him the satisfaction.

He tugs his sunglasses down his nose with a finger to look at you from over the top of them, more serious now, “But you had fun, right?”

And it’s too hard to keep up with the façade of being mad at him when he is looking at you so earnestly. When you were younger you had a higher tolerance against those big brown eyes, his ‘cow eyes’ as Carole had called them. Now that you lived here maybe you’d have a fighting chance against them again, but you felt yourself giving into them.

You were still getting use to the fact that you got to be around him all the time again, and sometimes it felt like you were relearning him as an adult. Your friendship with him felt just as familiar as it always had, but you could admit it was also different now.

“A little too much,” you say with a light laugh at your own expense, “But yes, I had fun, Rooster. I really like your friends.”

He smiles, pleased. “Ok, good.”

Bradley slings an arm over your shoulder and the two of you start walking towards the rest of the group. You hold your drink up for him to take a sip as a sign of truce.

He grimaces at the taste, “Why does it taste like I just licked some of that potpourri shit my Grandma Rose used to keep in her house?”

“Maybe because it’s a lavender latte,” you say, taking a smug sip of your own now that the two of you were even. The coffee shop you’d stopped at has become your favorite in the area. It was a little thing, but you liked having a go-to spot when so much still felt so new to you.

“You’ve only been here a few weeks and they’ve already got you drinking the California Kool-Aid? Coffee should taste like coffee, not a damn flower,” he gripes.

“You sound like you’re seventy. Next, you’ll be yelling at kids to get off your grass,” you tease, nudging his ribs with your elbow. “And I’ll have you know I liked these before I moved here. It was just an extra selling point getting one this morning because I know you aren’t going to drink it all when my back is turned.”

He barks a laugh, “Now that I know there were ulterior motives involved, I might just have to help you finish it.”

You stop and push your sunglasses onto the top of your head, giving him a firm look, “You’re still on friendship probation, tread carefully where my coffee is involved.”

Bradley playfully reaches out for your coffee, “You don’t scare me, kid.”  You attempt to push him away, but he doesn’t budge an inch.

The two of you had basically reached the rest of the group. The gentle crash of the waves was mingling with the sounds of Fleetwood Mac playing from a speaker and the bursts of easy laughter of his friends. Jake is a few feet from the two of you at the edge of the set up as he works to cover himself with sunscreen, the mist sparkling on the fine hairs on his forearms before he rubs it in. 

“You might have those curls figured out now, but I bet my mom still has photos of you with that terrible middle part from when you were thirteen. Don’t mess with me, Bradshaw.”

His head snaps towards you, “Your potpourri coffee is safe, I promise.” You can’t help but laugh at the panic in his voice and the way he warily eyes Jake, clearly not wanting the other man to get his hands on any potential blackmail material.

The sound of a low, exaggerated whistle pulls your attention over to Hangman. “Lookin’ good, kid,” Jake drawls, a pair of dimples punctuating his lazy grin on either cheek, “Red is definitely your color.” His pecs and abs are gleaming in the sun. He’s not your usual type, but it’s working for you more than it should.

God, you really needed to get laid. Or at least get a more reliable vibrator.

“Nah, I’m not having any of that,” Bradley warns, pointing a finger at him, “You cut that shit out right now, Seresin.”

Jake puts his hands up in surrender, but that sharp smile gets even wider, “Just givin’ the lady a compliment, Rooster, don’t get your feathers in a ruffle.” He sends you a wink and you think you hear Bradley grumble something under his breath.

The blonde with all his pretty boy looks was absolutely a shark when it came to finding ways to get under Rooster’s skin. You’d heard your best friend complain about him for years. And even after learning about their truce, you hadn’t been too sure about meeting him in person. But ultimately his easy charm had won you over pretty quickly. You could admit that now you had a lot of fun teaming up with Jake and riling Bradley up.

“Thank you, Jacob,” you sing, tugging on Rooster’s arm towards the spot that had been left open for you in between his things and what you recognized as Natasha’s oversized beach towel.

You gingerly balance your coffee on the arm of his deep green beach chair before dropping the rest of your things into the sand and take in the carefully curated beach arrangement.

Fritz and Harvard are off to the side casually tossing a frisbee back and forth between them. Callie and Nat were facing off against Coyote and Payback in a game of cornhole laughing as they shit talk. Yale looks like he is napping, but you spot the AirPods in his ears, probably trying to listen to the audiobook he’d recommend to you last night in peace. Next to him is Fanboy, who looks pretty engrossed in the comic book he’s reading. And Bob was making his way back up the beach towards the group from where he’d been down by the water.

“I’m going to go offload that and say ‘hi’ to people,” you tell Rooster. Taking the heavy cooler bag back from him, you set off towards the designated grazing area in the middle of the ocean-facing semicircle Nat had corralled people into, greeting his friends as you pass by.

You were more than a little curious about tipsy you had packed for the day. Unzipping the bag, the first thing you spot is the last thing you ever would have expected to find for a day at the beach.

“What the fuck?” you mutter to yourself, hesitating for a moment, unsure whether or not to add it to the rest of the things in the cooler.

“Are those pickles?” You turn to see Mickey standing behind you.

You hold the jar up for his inspection, “I can’t tell you what I was thinking by bringing them. Do you think I should put them in?”

He surprises you when he whoops and takes the jar from you, holding it above his head like a championship belt, “Yo, Payback! Look! The kid brought pickles!”

“Which kind?” Reuben calls back, taking a pause from the game with a beanbag still clutched in his hand.

“Claussen! The whole kind!”

“Oh, hell yeah!” he hoots, sending you a thumbs up. “Grab me one too, Fanboy.”

Mickey twists open the lid with a satisfying pop and fishes one out. “These are the best, thanks!” he says before excitedly hustling off towards Reuben to share, the cornhole game now on an indefinite pause.

You hadn’t been too sure what tipsy you had been thinking, but apparently the beach pickles were destined to be a hit. Either that or you weren’t the only one trying to shake off the tail end of a hangover this morning.

Bob swings by to grab a soda, but stops to help you unload the rest of the things from your bag. As the two of you work together, he tells you about the crab he’d found near the patio of the Hard Deck that he’d just released back into the ocean. 

Both of the large coolers were pretty packed, so no one would be going hungry or thirsty today. You make a note to shop around for one of your own and maybe a beach umbrella since no one else seems to have one. You were more of a sand, sea, shade type of girl.

Once everything is all put away, you grab a couple bottles of water and make your way back to your friend. You catch him taking another curious sip of your coffee, this time he nods like the taste might be growing on him. You let it slide because you see that while you’ve been away he’s set up your chair for you.

“Are you feeling peckish, Rooster?” you ask, plopping the water in his cup holder, eyeing the pilfered bag of trail mix he must have pulled out of your tote bag in his hands.

“What?” Bradley shrugs, unapologetically. You roll your eyes at him affectionately as he helps himself to another handful. “God, I’ve missed this. Japan has so much good food, but one of the perks of being back stateside after a year and a half is all the snacks. I’ve been going to Trader Joe’s like twice a week since I’ve been back.”

You still didn’t know anything about the mission that had brought him back to Top Gun. That phone call you’d had with him the night before he’d shipped off had played in your mind on repeat until he’d texted you that he was back safely in San Diego. The only thing you had been able to glean is that not everything went according to plan, based on his newest additions to his collection of scars. They were the first thing you’d noticed when he’d picked you up at the airport. Still shiny, pink, and fresh.

“Well, with that Hawaiian shirt collection of yours, you’d certainly fit in.”

He chuckles at that as he takes a moment to sort through the collection of various nuts and fruit and chocolate bits, he plucks out the raisins and drops them back in the bag. You bite back a smile because some things never change. He’s always pulled out the raisins, usually to replace them with more chocolate chips. Back when you were teens, his infamous ‘Bradshaw Mix’ was basically a 3-1 ratio of chocolate chips to anything else.

“Wait a second. Hold up, ‘peckish’?” His hand pauses halfway to his mouth, “Was that a joke at the expense of my callsign, kid?”

You point at yourself like who me? blinking innocently at him, “I would never.” Then grabbing a few of the nuts from his open hand you pop them into your mouth, shooting him a sunny grin.

Now that everything was all situated you felt like you could finally relax. You were like this when you traveled too, never at ease until you were through security with your bag stowed above your head. That tightness in your chest only releases after you’re buckled into your seat with all your in-flight necessities tucked away in the seat pocket in front of you.

Maybe that’s why it took you so long to notice the shirt that he was wearing. Well, mostly wearing. The sleeves had been cut off with an overenthusiastic hand and neared nip slip territory with the amount of Rooster’s golden skin that was on display.

“The Hooters shirt, really? Of all the things you could have held onto from your glory days, you chose that? How gauche.” You slide your sunglasses back on your face with your pinky exaggeratedly pointed up to the sky for dramatic flair.

He clutches his chest, “She’s got that fancy degree and been living in a big city and now she thinks she’s too good for Hooters? My, my how times have changed.” Bradley whips his tank off and tosses at you the same way he had done hundreds of times when the two of you were growing up.  Except the overpowering smell of teen spirit and axe body spray was replaced with a subtle, rich woodsy smell.

Rooster laughs when you succumb to the urge and throw him your middle finger. 

“Your motley crew of teenaged horndogs only went there because you all had a crush on Danielle Batula’s older sister,” you shoot back, folding up his shirt and putting it on top of your things.

“Hey now, we also went for the Lots-a-Tots. I’ve always been a feminist, kid, if a woman feels empowered wearing those spandex shorts then I’m going to support her,” he says with a wink, “Far be it from me to tell a woman what to wear.” You reach up to flick his nose and he bats at your hand, grinning even wider.

“And what’s the excuse for the reason you’re wearing jorts at the beach?”

Not that any man should be able to pull them off, but he wore them well. You were pretty sure he could pull off most anything with the body he’d worked for over the years, but the fact of the matter was that denim had no place mixing with sand.

“These are my beach jeans,” he says like it’s the most logical thing in the world, as he strikes a pose with his hip cocked out.

“I can see that, Rooster. But why?”

“It’s because they get him laid,” Javy cuts in with a booming laugh, slapping Bradley on the back as he passes by on his way towards the coolers, “Isn’t that right, Bradshaw? How many numbers did you score the last time we all did this? Like five?”

He runs his against the back of his neck, looking more sheepish than you’ve ever known him to be, “Yeah, yeah, yeah. She doesn’t need to hear about all that.”

“Oh.” It sounds just as stupid coming out of your mouth as you feel, not entirely sure how to respond or what to do with yourself.

Objectively speaking, you know your best friend is attractive. Tall, broad, and tan. You’d seen him get hit on more than a few times at the Hard Deck in the short time you’ve been here. But Rooster’s sex life wasn’t something you really wanted to hear about- or think about- especially when yours is nonexistent at the moment. 

However, it was one thing to generally know Bradley had no problem finding someone to take home and a different thing to hear just how easy it was for him. 

But you couldn’t say it surprised you though. During your first night out with everyone, you’d overheard a girl in the bathroom talking to her friend about him in more detail than you ever wanted to know, right down to confirming there had been more to the story he’d told you about how he’d earned his callsign.

You pointedly ignore the turn in conversation in favor of digging through your woven beach bag. You hadn’t had the time to apply sunscreen with all your rushing around to get here, and knowing Rooster he most likely hadn’t put any on either. His shoulders aren’t pink yet, but they undoubtedly will be by the end of the day. Even with the SPF 65 you’d purchased with him in mind.

Grabbing the bottle, you smoothly lob it to him, “Here, put that on. ‘Lobster’ isn’t nearly as cool of a callsign, Rooster.” You have to turn away from the chaotically haphazard way he rubs it all over his face. 

Leaving him to his own devices, you pull out a battered paperback book and toss it into your chair, only slightly mortified to see that tipsy you had been in a grocery store bodice ripper mood. If only you had noticed it earlier, you would have swapped it out for something less incriminating.

How you’d taken the time to unpack your books, and not all your clothes was beyond you.

You’re about to step around to the front of your pink and white striped chair when you feel a firm tug on the belt loop of your shorts, making you stop to turn back towards your best friend.

“Woah, get back here. We can’t have you frying, kid.” He squeezes some sunscreen into his hand, “Turn around and I’ll get your back for you.”

“Oh, absolutely not,” you say, adamantly shaking your head, “I trust you with a lot of things, but I am not trusting you to put the SPF on me. You haven’t even rubbed it all the way in on your face yet.” You thumb at the smear of white on his cheek to further emphasize the point.

“Hey, these hands handle a multimillion-dollar fighter jet, I’m more than capable of covering your back with sunscreen,” Rooster huffs, “Now, c’mere.”

Natasha laughs beside you as you dart out of his reach and around your chair to stand by her instead. She must have just walked up, because the last time you’d seen her she had been over on the other side of the group talking to Callie. But you had every confidence she would back you up with this since her friendship with Bradley was one that spanned years, and she’s undoubtedly seen him fried to a crisp before too.

“She makes a good point,” she says with a smirk, pinning him with a sharp raise of her eyebrow, “The last time I asked one of you guys, I ended up with the worst tan lines.”

The look of betrayal on his face is comical, “And here I thought we were friends.”

“I’ve decided to upgrade,” she says pointing to you. You beam in victory towards him and he just shakes his head at you before looking down at the large blob so sunscreen in the center of his large palm like he doesn’t know what to do with it.

You take Natasha up on her offer to help you cover the spots you can’t reach. All the while, you can hear him grumbling to himself as he works on rubbing in the dollop that had been meant for you over his shoulders and chest. After she’s done with your back, you shimmy out of your shorts and work on getting your arms and legs covered.

As Nat pulls up her thick, shiny hair onto the top of her head- the reason she must have come over here in the first place- and reminds Rooster about the plan to play ‘Dogfight’ football a little later before setting off again. You’d heard of flag football, but that name was new for you. You’d seen enough football with your ex and you were suddenly very grateful you’d brought a book to keep yourself occupied, even if it was a bodice ripper. 

You double check your set up, ready to hunker down, when you feel Rooster’s eyes trained on you, “What?”

“Just looking for evidence of this tattoo you allegedly have,” he says, doubtfully, “Considering that I only found out about last night. Since when do we keep secrets?”

“I told you it’s not for the viewing public, so it’s none of your business. Now, stop hovering and go play with your friends. You’re annoying me,” you say without heat, shooing him away.

“Are you bossing me around, kid?” he asks, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Yep,” you say breezily, getting comfortable in your chair and opening your book, “You’d think you’d be used to it by now.”

“You’d think,” Rooster agrees with a laugh. He squeezes your shoulder before strutting off to go join where Coyote, Harvard, and Fanboy are already tossing a football back and forth not too far away.

Now that you’re on your own, you lose yourself in the words printed on the cheap paper of your smutty bargain book. You’re too engrossed in the tension and build-up of the story you’re reading to pay attention to anything else. And you’re reminded why this particular book has never made it into a donation box when you do your spring cleaning, it’s got the best combination of all your favorite tropes. By the fourth chapter you’re completely immersed in the story, and all the chatter happening around you becomes white noise.

The only signal of time passing is marked by the melted ice in your empty coffee cup, by the crinkle of swiftly turning of pages, and by the sun as it rises higher and higher in the sky.

What minimal marine layer there had been when you’d first arrived is long gone. You’re probably due for another layer of sunscreen by now, but you can’t be bothered when you’re in the middle of possibly one of the hottest sex scenes you’ve ever read.

It’s so well written, so incredibly vivid that you can almost feel greedy hands and wandering mouths along every inch of you. The blood thrumming in your ears has drowned out the sound of crashing waves. You’re so hyperaware of your body. It’s as if you can feel every individual grain of sand on your skin. Tucked between your fingers, on your shin, in the nook of your ankle bone. The high heat of the day has your hair sticking to the back of your neck and sweat collecting in the hollow of your collarbone. You’re too keenly aware of the prickling sensation on your shoulders and the tops of your thighs.

You thought living vicariously through the main character might help take the edge off. Instead, all it’s done is given fresh life to the ruined orgasm from the night before, like an echo of need reverberating throughout your whole body. A reminder of how untouched you’ve been over the last few months. You can’t help the way you’re shifting in your chair, trying to relieve the way your clit is throbbing in time with your heartbeat. The moment your cunt clenches around nothing, you close your book with a sharp snap. Not even bothering to mark the page you left off at.

You feel fidgety and keyed up. 

Needing something to do, you grab your tote looking for the lightweight linen coverup you assumed was packed. But digging around all you can find is Rooster’s Hooters shirt from earlier.

You’re more than a little irritated at yourself for not double-checking you had everything before you left for the day, and because your tipsy self had clearly fucked you over. You don’t know anyone else as well as you know Bradley to rummage through their things to look for some other form of sun protection, so with a huff you pull it on over your head. The cotton is soft and warm to the touch. You’re grateful for the way it covers your shoulders, but you’re already mentally preparing yourself for how smug he’ll be when he sees you in it, especially after all the shit you gave him earlier.

Still needing to keep yourself occupied from wanting to crawl out of your skin, you crack open the water bottle you’d grabbed earlier and swallow down a few large gulps. You’d heard when Natasha had rallied the group for their game, but you hadn’t taken a moment to find out what ‘Dogfight’ Football actually was.

You’re not even the slightest bit prepared for what you see playing out in front of you down by the water. You’d figured watching some of their football game would help your act together, but now you feel even more spun out of control than before at the sight of so much skin.

Fuck.

The sun is bouncing off of their hard, athletic bodies. Under the shiny sheen of sunscreen and sweat, their muscles look bigger and the divots and ridges more pronounced. You knew these were some of the best and brightest the Navy had to offer, but seeing them in action was something else entirely. The power of their legs was impressive as they ran and spun around their opponents. The precision of their aim as they threw the football to a teammate. Every single one of them was in peak shape. Those weren’t vanity muscles, those were earned and honed by hard work.

You couldn’t tear your eyes away from any of it.

The lithe line of Natasha’s toned thighs. The full, defined pecs on Jake’s massive chest. The way Bob’s large hands easily wrapped around most of the curved football he’d just caught. The skin over the wide expanse of Javy’s back was pulled taut, his muscles flexing as he twists and bends. The way Mickey was breathing hard made his chiseled abs stand out even more than they already did.

It was a lot. Especially for someone who couldn’t remember the last time they’d been good and truly fucked.

And then there was Rooster.

There had been a few moments since moving here where you’d been struck by this version of him. It was almost like your brain couldn’t connect the tall, broad man in front of you racing across the beach with the long-limbed, gangly boy you’d known with the red and black braces. Or the one in the teal shirt who’d scooped ice cream for his first job. Or the one who’d helped you pass Algebra 2 when the math teacher cared more about coaching the basketball team than he did trying to make sure his students understood the material.

Seeing him now, like this? This version of him was new to you.

Rooster’s chest and face were flushed pink, those curls of his are an absolute riot. The sweat he’d worked up made it look like his golden skin was gleaming in the bright afternoon sun, even with the patches of gritty sand that were sticking to him. Power and control radiated off every inch of him, the embodiment of physical strength and agility. Every movement he made was purposeful and precise, like he knew exactly what he was capable of.

You knew he was built, but the casual perfection of his body still takes you by surprise.

The broadness of his shoulders, the definition of his biceps and arms, the jutting v-shaped muscle that ran diagonally from his hipbones towards the trail of fine hair below his belly button. The long tendon that ran along the side of his neck was on full display as he throws his head back to laugh at something one of his teammates says. It was impossible to miss the unapologetic confidence in his swagger or the way those ridiculous jorts were clinging to his thick thighs. They were absolutely soaked through, the light wash darkened by the Pacific, and the denim was molded to him in a way that left nothing to the imagination. 

When did Bradley get an ass like that?

The startling intrusive thought about your best friend has you shooting up from your chair in a flash, your book tumbling off your lap and into the warm sand.

Jesus Christ, you needed to get a grip.

Shade. You needed shade and to get out of the heat. And you definitely needed to get away from the overwhelming display of sunkissed sweaty skin and peak physical prowess playing out before you.

And then you’re off like a shot towards the Hard Deck.

The burst of cool air you’re hit with as soon as you’re pushing through the patio door that Penny left unlocked for the group is more than welcomed against your overheated skin, even as it makes goosebumps erupt along your body.

You sigh in relief once you flip the lock to the worn wooden door of the bathroom closed. Leaning against the cool surface that’s littered with faded stickers from all around the world, you squeeze your eyes shut, willing your racing heartbeat to slow down. You’re breathing hard like you’ve run a marathon, your lungs uncooperative to the point where you don’t feel like you can take a full breath. You’ve never felt this antsy before, it’s like there’s a live wire under your skin.

In the mirror, you catch a glimpse of yourself. You’re more than a little windblown, but it’s the wild gleam in your eyes that surprises you the most, it’s a look on yourself that you’ve never seen before. Your thighs rub together as you shift your weight on your feet and it makes the pulsing of your clit impossible to ignore.

You weren’t. You shouldn’t.

But you have no idea how you’re going to make it through the rest of the afternoon and evening if you didn’t with how on edge you are.

Bringing your hand up to your chest, you press it there and let your thumb soothingly skim the side of your neck, trying to use whatever techniques you’d learned in those overpriced yoga classes you’d started taking before you’d left Boston to calm yourself down. But your fluttery pulse won’t be pacified.

Every part of you feels hypersensitive, you can feel every thread of Rooster’s shirt against your too tight skin. The desire to be touched is overwhelming. Your breasts feel heavy and you’re all too aware of your peaked nipples against the cups of your swimsuit. You’re craving hands other than your own.

It’s been so long since someone else has made you come. Even longer since you’ve had a back-arching, toe-curling, steal-your-breath kind of orgasm. You want to be pressed into the door, you want a firm, solid body fitted against yours. You want to be kissed and touched and fucked.

You keep telling yourself that you aren’t going to, even as your hand trails down the soft cotton between the valley of your breasts and over your stomach down even further. Your fingers sneak easily beneath the top of your bikini bottoms since you’d left without pulling your denim shorts back on. There are no thoughts left in your head, only the ringing in your ears. You need, you need.

There’s a small whimper that escapes you at the first touch of your fingertips against your slippery clit. The sensation has your hips jerking forward on their own, seeing out more. You’re so wet already.

There’s no finesse or slow build up. No gentle teasing or trying to draw this out. Your fingers are making quick, tight circles on that pulsing part of you. In the quiet of the bathroom, the rhythmic slick sounds you’re creating feel almost too loud.

You already know it’s not going to take you long to get there, but you still can’t help but let your mind wander. You think of big hands with thick fingers, ones that are calloused and rougher than your own touching you in just the way you like. The thought of a thick thigh pressed in between your own, on you could rock and grind against, has you rolling your hips harder against your fingertips. You can almost feel the ghosting of hot lips, a wet mouth, and a teasing tongue along your neck. All you want is a raspy voice in your ear whispering filthy words and murmuring pretty praise.

Couldn’t even wait until you got home. C’mon then, dirty girl, show me how you touch yourself when you’re alone and no one’s watching.

Go on, give that needy clit the attention it deserves. Spread your thighs open further- yes, just like that- I want to see how wet you are for me.

Jesus, look how hard you’re working for it. You’re going to make yourself come, and then I’m going to fuck you so hard that everyone will know what we did in here. They’ll all know how desperate you were for this cock.

A soft whine makes its way out of you, and with your free hand you pull up the collar of the shirt you’re wearing over your mouth to try and muffle your sounds as you tremble all over.

You’re hit with the scent of clean laundry and the warm, woodsy scent of expensive cologne. It’s rich and cozy, it reminds you of the trees that grow everywhere in your hometown. And underneath that, there’s a smell that you’d know anywhere, one you’ve always been familiar with. It smells like Br--

You come open-mouthed with stars blooming behind your eyelids, the force of it hitting you so hard that your knees nearly give out beneath you. The hand that had been covering your mouth slaps against the door for support. Your hips writhe against your fingertips as you chase those last shimmery moments of your release.

In your post-orgasm satisfaction, you feel like you can finally breathe again, now that all your antsy, unsettled energy has been freed from your body.

When you can feel your legs again, you go wash your hands once and then again for good measure. Like somehow it’ll erase the last few minutes from the Hard Deck’s history books, even though you’re sure it’s seen much worse. You chance a peek at yourself in the mirror, you look more relaxed than you did when you’d arrived.

Unlocking the door, you leave the sanctuary of the quiet bathroom. The only thing on your mind is the glass of ice water that’s calling your name. You’re about to round the corner out of the hallway when you collide into someone’s chest. A firm, sweaty, shirtless chest.

“Oh hey, there you are,” Rooster says, his big hand steadying you at the waist. “You ok? You look overheated, kid.”

Your face heats up immediately. You’re too flustered by what just occurred barely five minutes ago to look him in the eye. You feel embarrassment trying to bubble its way to the surface, but you push it back down in the name of self-care. Plus, you could always blame it on sunstroke if you had to, not that you were ever planning on telling anyone about it.

“Probably just dehydrated,” you ramble, trying to sound unaffected. Your eyes are trained on a spot just under his ear. “But you’re one to talk. You’re fried, Rooster.” With a finger you press lightly on his bright pink shoulder. His hisses and knocks your hand away.

“Nah, I’m just working on my base tan.” You don’t see as much as you feel the moment he notices what you’re wearing. Smugness rolling off of him in waves, “Not too good for Hooters now, are you?”

“Shut up,” you mumble.

“C’mon, let’s get you some water.” Tucking you under his arm as he steers you back towards the bar. “So what did you think of Dogfight football? Did you catch any of it or did your highbrow literary choice have your full, undivided attention?”

Your mind starts to whirl, unable to think of a reply. Thankfully you’re spared giving him an answer as the rest of the clamorous team spills in through the open patio door. The commotion is a godsend, because it’s almost like he forgot he even asked the question in the first place in the all the activity. The real answer will forever be a secret between you and the Hard Deck.

The late afternoon melts into evening like hand-churned ice cream, smooth and silky.

Eventually, the beach set up is packed away into trunks of cars as the party moves inside the bar. You end up back in your denim shorts, the Hooters shirt is the crowning glory to your ensemble for the rest of the night. You don’t even feel guilty getting people to call Rooster ‘Flamingo’ after the third time someone asks you about being out of uniform regulation. But he isn’t faring much better in the too-tight shirt he was borrowing, since it turns out that out of everyone in the group only Bob had been the one with enough common sense to pack a spare one.

As predicted, the pink hue of Rooster’s skin deepens with every passing hour until he’s bribing you into leaving early with the promise of burgers and milkshakes in exchange for putting on aloe for him back at his place.

He’s sprawled face down on his couch in a pair of loose sweatpants with his eyes closed, contentedly humming as you work on applying a second coat of the cool, soothing gel to his hot-to-the-touch skin. One of the movies the two of you use to watch all the time plays on in the background, the crumpled wrappers and empty cups of your dinner sitting out still on his coffee table. Every time you come here you can’t help but seek out any little touches that look like him, but much like yours, his condo seems to be a work in progress.

“It’s nice having you around, kid,” Rooster says with a sigh. “I’ve missed you.”

“You don’t have to butter me up, Bradshaw, I’ll put one more layer on for you before I leave,” you tease, as your hand follows the freckles along his back.

He squeezes your knee, “No, seriously. I don’t know if I’ve said it yet, but I’m really happy you’re here.” And you know that if you were to look in his brown eyes, you’d see nothing but fondness reflected in them.

You give him a soft smile, “I’m happy I’m here too.”

It’s late by the time you get back to your place.

It seems pointless with the cardboard boxes still scattered around your apartment, but you still go through the motion of putting all your things away. Like wiping out your cooler bag and throwing your clothes in the washing machine, including the well-worn Hooters shirt. You’ve already decided to spend the rest of your weekend trying to unpack your things, you’re ready to make your space feel more like your home.

It’s a slow sinking feeling that settles over you as you wash the sand and sea salt from your skin in the shower. Your day has been so filled with chatter and laughter, that it feels uncomfortably quiet. It was different from the peaceful quiet you’d had at Rooster’s place, this was the empty kind of quiet. 

You turn the tv on in your room and crawl into bed, savoring the way the cool cotton of your sheets feels against your legs. Checking your phone, you see that Nat has sent you some pictures that she must have taken during the day. Scrolling through them you like the windblown, carefree girl you see in them.

For as good as the day you’ve had, you can’t quite shake off how lonely you’re feeling now. You can’t help but think about how nice it would be to come home and have someone here to laugh and relax with. Someone just to be with.

You pull your lower lip in between your teeth as you click into the app store feature on your phone. Taking a few moments to skim the options, you download the dating app with the highest rating and best reviews, deciding that it can’t hurt to try.

Not everyone got to have a fresh start in a new city, and you wanted to make the most of it. A new city with new places to go and new people to meet.

And you are ready to embrace every bit of it with open arms and a hopeful heart.

California was going to look good on you.

Bradley Bradshaw, you liked that lavender latte and you're not fooling any of us!

Many thanks to @gretagerwigsmuse and @callsignspark for being the best babes to swoon over pretty pilots with!

If you want to see what happens next for these two, click here!

You can read more of my stories here!

taglist:

@gretagerwigsmuse @sehnsuchts-trunken @notroosterbradshaw @tongue-like-a-razor @laracrofted @bradshawsbitch @starryeyedstories @top-hhun-main @startrekfangirl2233 @callsign-viper @teacupsandtopgun @shanimallina87 @angelbabyange @oneelleandaneye @mizzzpink @cornishkat @alana4610 @20th-centu-fairy-girl @pono-pura-vida @donttouchmycarrots @eg-dr3amer3 @whaledots-blog @a-beaverhausen @hangmanscoming @mandolin22 @theweekndhistorybook @lilpeekabooze @high-bi-imgonnacry @ahintofkiwistrawberry @ruewrote @spiderman-stilinski @jayniebop @my-soulmate-is-mycroft @imaginecrushes @keyrani @chicomonks @artemissunn @mayempress @eddiemunsonreader

[gremlin-girly]

Kinktober Day 8

Kink: primal / hunter x prey Pairing: Halsin x f!druid!reader Tags/warnings:  SMUT, hunter/prey dynamics, ik bears don’t hunt deer but hey its for the plot, but what plot really?, being tracked/chased,  no one stays as animals!!!, p in V, forest sex (just on the floor), biting(marking), doggy style, multiple orgasm, size kink if you squint

Summary: As a young druid you don’t heed the warnings of shifting to wildshape at night, believing that the animals in the wild forest would be easy to handle. But an encounter with a large brown bear sets in motion an unforgettable night under the tree canopy. Word Count: 1.7k

As always I do not give permission for my work to be reposted, translated or copied. My warnings are non-exhaustive (even though I do try to capture everything) but please read at your own risk. I am not responsible for your content consumption.

I hope you enjoy; likes, comments and reblogs are always appreciated!

A/N: This is my first time writing this kink and yk Halsin works haha. Welcome to week 2 ig x Prev | Next | Masterlist

The woodland at night was always the most serene. What was once vibrant greens were hues of black, illuminated only by glowing mushrooms or the light of the moon.

Treading carefully thought the undergrowth, your new elongated neck whips around at the sound of a twig snapping in the distance. Your ears twitch fretfully, your large doe-eyes like saucers, scanning for more movement.

The elders had warned you about the dangers of shifting into wildshape at night. You hadn’t given it much credence because, well, you were you. You were one of the better druids of your grove, always looking to improve your magical abilities and – if what you’d read were correct – there was a particular herb you needed that only bloomed under the waxing moon that ordinary eyes just would not cut it. If you were being honest, you preferred to be in your wildshape. No elders to bother you as you sniffed, skipped and jumped through the undergrowth. No worries. No responsibility.

Another twig snap – closer this time. You flicked your tail.

You were at the awkward age of a half-elf; older than most of the children but still far younger than the elders for you to be taken seriously, despite your skill. The ripe old age of 46 years old. That angered you. Unable to break from the responsibility of babysitter made you do reckless things like this.

You sniffed the air tentatively, wet, black nose twitching hurriedly. The musky smell that followed wolves was non existent, which was a relief. Pack animals like that had a tendency to throw caution to the wind, and were harder to deal with when you were on your own.

 You huff and look to the murky trail ahead. You wait a moment. Then another. You’re straining your ears but all you can hear is your own heart pounding. You still, standing like a statue amongst the rustle of trees in the wind.

There’s no sound.

Forests are not supposed to be quiet.

Immediately, you break into a leap; prancing wildly through the undergrowth as something growls – no roars – from behind you, giving chase. Your thin amble legs stumble over rocks and stumps – suddenly you feel like a doe was a ridiculous animal for wildshape as there are just too many legs as you frantically push yourself to your limit to get away from whatever was chasing you.

You can’t see through the darkness. You can only hear – and what you hear makes your hackles rise in terror. Guttural grunts and deep growls fill the crisp summer night, alongside the pounding of your heart and your wheezing as you try to catch your breath.

Whatever it is it’s fast. And large.

Suddenly the noise stops, the rhythmic pounding of heavy footfall gone. You stop again, turning, searching for any sign of what chased you. You’re met with darkness.

You sniff the air again, I haling deeply as you try to regain control of your breathing. This time you don’t smell nothing; there’s an earthy scent in the air, a little musky; somewhere between fresh water rivers and forest moss. If you could furrow your brows you would. That doesn’t smell like any animal you have encountered.

It’s a person.

But the thought comes too late. The large thing tackles you to the ground, and you scream – well bleat – in terror, flailing all four of your hooved feet wildly. One manages to connect with a snout of some kind, that growls and nips at you and two large clawed paws, pin your forelegs painfully either side of you.

You can’t dismiss wildshape fast enough, fear of being eaten alive  ripping you from your panicked prey stupor and you ready a spell, calling out before you do;

“Stop! Stop! I’m a druid! I’m a friend!”

The animal seems to register your words, as the growling temporarily ceases, but a large wet nose is shoved into your neck, taking a deep breath. Moonlight cascades through the trees illuminating the creature before you as an abnormally large brown bear. The bear blinks down at you and you feel slightly embarrassed.

You are stark naked in the moonlight – you hated wearing clothes whilst gallivanting in wildshape, they had always felt too constricting. Now, you were realising maybe an outfit with a concealed knife would have been a lot more useful.

The bear chuckles but doesn’t release you. Instead, a golden light appears around it and the abnormally large bear transforms into an abnormally large elf, who also happened to be naked.

“you should always smell downwind,” his deep voice rumbles, his scarred handsome face smiling down at you, keeping you pinned with large, strong arms.

You suck in a breath. Oakfather preserve you, he was possibly the most beautiful elf you had ever seen; biceps as big as your head and with those scars? They complimented him as much as his chestnut brown hair.  Your eyes wander and widen at the sight of his cock, making your legs squeeze together as you look up at him bashfully.

“I’ll try to keep it in mind.” You say quietly.

He smiles and seems rather smug that you were caught eyeing his form. He still doesn’t move away from you, instead he leans closer, looming over you.

“If you don’t, I may end up trying to eat you again,” he flirts shamelessly, making your body rush with heat.

“Is that a threat or a promise?"

"Which would you like it to be?"

"A promise." You breathe out, watching his face carefully. His body rumbles with a deep chuckle that sounds deliciously melodic and you wonder, briefly, if this is the Oakfather himself. He leans ever closer, his hair tickling the sides of your face, his lips millimetres from yours.

"Consider it promised," He murmurs against your lips. You are the one to initiate; leaning up to close that marginal distance between your lips in a hungry kiss. His grip on your wrists tightens as he growls deeply in response, pushing back against your lips with fervour. Once your head is against the ground again, his hands release your wrists and begin to wander. And you let them.

He's still kissing you, pressed against you in the moonlight with nothing but the trees and stars surrounding you, groping you, feeling your soft skin under his large hands as you mewl beneath him. He peppers kisses along your jaw to your throat, leaving small bruises in his wake as he teases at your wet folds. You gasp out and wrap your hands in his hair, pulling his thick neck down to your mouth with a snarl, marking him back. He curses into your ear and you feel his length twitch against your thigh.

"By Silvanus," He mutters thickly. "What kind of creature are you?"

You don't answer with words at first, instead hooking your legs over the angle of his hips and reaching between the tight space between you to grasp his cock and run it over the slick, wet heat of your folds. The hand that clutched a fistful of brown hair ensured he watched your face as you did this, so you could see the way he licked his lips with his eyes blown black with desire.

"Do you care?" You whisper.

"No." He responds, kissing you again. "I do not." You yelp when his strong arms flip you onto your front, facing away from him but you brace yourself against the forest floor with an excitable grin. Two large, surprisingly soft, hands find refuge on your hips and you feel the tip of his cock nudge at your entrance. You sigh contentedly as you push yourself backwards so the tip of his hard length can breach your aching cunt. You can feel him stiffen for a moment behind you but with a loud groan, he slowly pushes himself into you all the way to the hilt.

He doesn't need to wait for you to adjust to his sheer size, nor does he. As soon as his sac reaches your folds he's fucking you powerfully, so powerfully you'd have fallen onto your face in the dirt had his hands not held you in place. It doesn't take long for you to cum over his cock; the sheer size of him and the feeling of him ruining your cunt has you moaning loudly. And he his just as loud, if not louder, grunting and moaning with you, using your cunt to fuck himself senseless.

When you cum a second time, he changes his hold on you; one hand steadying a shoulder, the other circling your clit. The noises you make are entirely animalistic; howling and groaning in ecstasy.

"Oh, Gods-" You can barely huff the words out; you're voice is hoarse but the electric feeling brewing between your legs as your mind spinning.

"You are-" The elf pants between heavy thrusts, "ethereal. A gift carved by Silvanus himself."

You can feel your pussy clench at his words, and you would have cum from that alone, but the kisses peppered across your shoulders and neck make you cry out and gush over his cock. Your body relaxes into his large hands, struggle to stay upright after the fucking you're still receiving. His thrusts grow sloppier, but no less hard, and your whimpering and pleading to him to cum.

After a few more hard thrusts, tweaking your clit to make sure you cum one last time around his cock, he pulls out of you quickly with a groan and covers your ass and back with hot thick ropes of cum. You're both panting, and whilst your slumped in a pile, covered in sweat and cum; the elf looks as if he's just completed a light jog. He looks down at you with a pretty grin, and your chest and cunt flutter in response.

"Are you alright? I apologise if I was too much." He looks almost embarassed, but you detect there is some smugness hidden beneath it. He knows he's good.

"Better than alright." You sigh dreamily, barely managing to sit back onto your legs. You twist to offer him a hand with a cheeky smile. "Y/N."

"Halsin." He chuckles, shaking your hand gently. You recognise his name immediately and try not to let the recognition show on your face. "I don't suppose you would know where I could find a druid camp, by any chance?"

Now you chuckle, a smirk spreading across your face. "I know exactly where you could find one."

You couldn't wait to bring the Archdruid Halsin back to your camp; you're sure your conquest would be enough to prove yourself in the eyes of the elders, herb or no herb. And perhaps, he would let you travel with him. Just for a little while, anyway....

[notjustjavierpena]

Misbehavior

Series Masterpost | Main Masterpost | Support a disabled creator

A/N: I haven’t written spanking in a while, and so I thought I’d treat myself and you.

Summary: You call Joel daddy at the annual 4th of July barbecue. He does not like that.

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader/you (no y/n)

Tags: +18 smut (MDNI!), dad’s best friend joel miller, teasing, daddy kink, spanking session, fingerfucking, m masturbation, dirty talk, loooots of pet names, praise kink

Word count: 2.8k

Link to this work on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/48831457

Misbehavior

“Honey, will you get the beer from the trunk?” Your mother’s voice is already fading as she walks towards Joel’s front porch. She’s carrying a couple of prepared dishes for the barbecue, your father tagging along beside her as they enter the house. 

As you grab the six-pack from the back of the car, you can hear your father say Joel’s name, then the excited ‘there he is’ that’s followed by the known sound of two men hugging; the three slaps to each other’s backs as if counting like a referee at a wrestling match, telling the other to tap out before it gets too intimate. You smile to yourself. 

It’s the annual 4th of July barbecue that Joel and your father usually take turns hosting. The last few years, you saw no reason to attend and even stayed at campus a few times to avoid it. Though today, there is no reason to display some kind of independence on Independence Day; you desperately want to see him. Joel Miller. Nothing or no one can flood your brain quite like him. 

When you finally enter Miller’s home, everyone has already moved outside to the backyard. You allow your eyes to wander around the living room, trying to avoid looking at the family photos, one including your father, and then at the couch where you had been splayed out just before leaving for college again around Easter. 

You tear your eyes away from the living room. You can hear your mother say your name, suddenly remembering the beverages in your hands as she hurries you. The sliding door to the garden is open, and you can smell the barbecue smoke from outside. 

When you appear in the door only Joel looks up from what he is doing. 

Your name sounds like heaven coming from his mouth as he calls you over. Your legs have already started moving, guiding you towards him as if being led by pure instinct.

He wraps a lazy arm around you to hug you whilst still holding the barbecue tongs in his other hand. You can smell his cologne, the musky scent filling your nostrils and making warmth creep along your chest and down to the pit below your belly button. You haven’t seen him in a while, so it’s only natural that your body responds to him like this.

“I have missed you,” you whisper to him now that you are so close to him, watching his body stiffen for just a moment at the realization of what you are implying. He doesn’t respond though, instead just makes casual conversation like the kind you used to have before he decided to throw caution to the wind. It’s his own fault really.

“Didn’t know you were gonna be home, sweetheart,” he says a little too loudly as he finally pulls away, giving you a warning look. He turns his attention to the burgers again, flipping them over but reaching for his beer as he does it as if he needs something to occupy his mouth. It makes an image of his mouth on your cunt pop up in your head. He drinks slowly from the bottle, lips pursed slightly as he swallows and you watch his throat bob as it goes down. 

“No, I needed a few days home from college, missed everyone too much,” you admit, settling the six-pack of beer onto the table where your mother has also placed the homemade coleslaw, “What better time than now since we’re all together? Knew you were gonna host the barbecue party, though I don’t see the pink inflatable dipping pool anywhere?”

“You and Sarah aren’t kids anymore,” he says with a little laugh, not noticing the verbal trap that he has just walked into.

“No, I for sure aren’t,” you pause very briefly, looking from side to side to see if anyone is within earshot. No one is, “But you know this, Daddy.”

You lick your lips, sending him a wink and leaving him choking on a mouthful of his drink. 

*

It feels as though your pulse won’t go down again after that. Even as you talk to your parents and Sarah during the last preparations for dinner, your heart drums uncontrollably in your chest and it’s making you an adrenaline junkie. You just want to shock him again and again and make his life miserable until his only option is to give in to your demand for attention. 

When the lot of you finally sit down to eat, you choose to sit down next to Joel opposite your parents. He acts like it doesn’t matter, but you quickly notice his hand curling around the armrest of his chair, holding onto it for dear life. 

The conversation flows naturally between the lot of you but you’re barely registering where the conversation is coming and going, not caring about work or school or whatever movie is playing on the big screen. 

College rarely offers anything as good as the food you get at home, and with the mission in the back of your head, you moan softly when you finally eat, “Fuck, Mom, this is so good.”

Joel’s hand twitches at the swear word, nearly dropping his fork onto the plate and your mother asks him if he is okay. It’s not that you aren’t allowed to be foul-mouthed, but given the nickname you’ve thrown his way earlier, the swearing is definitely a nudge at him and his stupid rules.

“That’s actually made by Miller,” your father adds, pointing to your food with his own fork, “Good to know you can feed the girl if she’s ever in need.”

Joel forces out a laugh, reaching for his beer to avoid replying to the double entendre of that comment. 

You lean over your armrest to rest your head on Joel’s shoulder, hearing the deep breath that he sucks in as you touch him. He powers through like a champ, confident after a sip of his drink, smiles, albeit strained, down at you as you give him an innocent look, “I’ll give your old man the recipe, kiddo.”

“Look at you two gettin’ along,” your father muses. If he only knew that you had your hand underneath the table, resting on Joel’s inner thigh.

The rest of the meal stays like this. You push boundaries, Joel gets semi-hard at your stroking up and down his crotch and your parents are oblivious. 

*

The house goes quiet as fireworks start outside. You stay inside with Joel, making up an excuse about wanting to offer your help with clearing the table and doing the big pile of dishes that won’t fit in the dishwasher. Your mother compliments you with a kiss on your forehead for being such a great daughter, and you beg that she doesn’t hear Joel’s scoff under his breath.

You are standing side by side now but no one is saying anything. The both of you are only listening to the sound of water running and the clink of plates being stacked in the cupboard in front of you, working together in some sort of fucked up symbiosis of two people that shouldn’t be allowed in the same room these days.  

There’s a tension. It doesn’t get any better as the minutes go by, even less so when you stretch your body to reach past Joel as you wipe down the counter with a damp cloth.

Suddenly, Joel’s large hand grips the back of your neck. He manhandles you without remorse, ignoring the gasp of shock that you let out, and shoves your upper body down over the clean kitchen counter. His voice is low, annoyed, and aroused, “You. You are a very dangerous young lady.”

“Joel—“

“No, shut up, I don’t think you have earned the right to explain yourself,” he actually sounds angry too. Your stomach drops and you avoid his gaze, but it doesn’t outweigh the tug below your belly button that’s causing slick to dampen your panties. Him scolding you shouldn’t be having an effect but here you are.

“Fuck, I should spank you for being such a dirty girl all evening,” he growls, shaking you a little with his hand still so tightly cupping the back of your head. 

You whine, nodding your head carefully.

The realization that this is something you want seems to hit Joel like a train, because the groan he lets out is primal, “Yeah? That’s what the princess wants?” 

You say nothing because you know he’ll tell you off for not having permission to speak right now. There’s a dark chuckle behind you, “Let’s see if I can smack the stupid brat out of you.”

One of Joel’s rough hands bunches up the fabric of your dress’ skirt. He pulls it up over your ass and tuts at the incredibly small piece of fabric that you dare call your underwear. They’re covering not much else than your pussy. You’ll deny it if he asks if you have worn them for him. 

“Slut,” he mumbles when he hooks his finger into them and pulls them down. The fabric stretches around your skin, nips at your skin when he settles them halfway down your thighs. His knuckle grazes along your cunt on the way, and he makes a low guttural sound when he sees the slight shine on his skin afterward. 

“Someone could walk in, Daddy,” you say then gasp; the nickname earns you a quick slap to your behind, not quite stinging but hurting from the surprise of it. 

“There’s that name again. You really kiss your mother with that filthy mouth? Someone walking in should be the least of your concerns, sweetheart,” he grabs the curve of your ass, obscenely shaking your jiggly flesh with his hand. His thumb goes inwards after, pressing one of your cheeks outwards to spread you open. He ogles you, admiring the shine along your slit, “You got some nerve looking so delicious when I don’t have time to stuff you with my dick.”

It feels intense already and he hasn’t even smacked you yet, but the anticipation of having his hand resting on the plump flesh of your behind and not knowing when he’ll give you the first blow is exciting beyond what you could ever have imagined. 

“Please,” you beg as your cunt throbs and you stick out your ass for him. You want this, you deserve this. 

“Quiet or I won’t stop until your ass matches your pretty lipstick,” he warns firmly. He looks up as the fireworks grow louder outside, the celebration is reaching its peak and it gives the two of you both a limited amount of time and the noise level to begin. 

Joel’s palm falls heavily against your ass once and you jerk forward, the sound of his skin against your skin bouncing off the kitchen walls. You breathe through it, and he rubs the spot soothingly before repeating the move and hitting the same spot. 

Another smack spreads a painful sting across your ass. You try to stay strong, only whimpering softly to make as little noise as possible, but it seems to give Joel the idea that he isn’t going hard enough. 

He is brutal during the next slaps. By the seventh one, you are sure that a blush has formed on your bouncy flesh. Your eyes have started to pinch with tears and a single one spills down your cheek and onto the kitchen table. 

“You had enough? We’re only at seven, baby girl,” he sounds like a disappointed father. You look over your shoulder to see him flexing his fingers, but when he catches your eyes, his disapproval reaches his eyes as well. He carelessly swats your behind again and another of your tears escapes, “Eyes front.”

You force yourself to look at the kitchen counter again, heart beating like a trapped animal in your chest as your body tries to figure out how to make the pain stop. Joel scrapes his fingernails across the handprint he has created on your ass, and you jolt with a proper cry now.

“Use your words, sweetheart.”

You let out a tearless sob as he scratches and then soothes your skin. You have no idea how to feel, but you know that you want to beg him for something, whether it be begging for more, begging for cock or just begging for release, “Joel, I’m sorry. I w-won’t do it again.”

“Goddamn right ya ain’t gonna do it again,” he clicks his tongue. He steps closer to you to let you feel how hard he is, the bulge in his jeans against the side of your body, “Playin’ a smartass in front of your daddy. Imagine if we both had acted on that damn name.” 

You giggle at that, but it isn’t a reaction that Joel seems to like. The hand on the back of your neck squeezes firmly, thumb and index finger pressing into your windpipe, not enough to cut the air off but enough to make you stop giggling. He snaps at you, southern twang like honey despite how angry he sounds. He spanks your ass again, ripples of pain shooting out from the place of impact, “Ain’t funny. Apologize again.”

“I’m sorry, Daddy,” you say with big wet eyes. The grip on your neck disappears altogether, and you’re aware that it’s because you sound so small that he knows you aren’t going to move if he lets go. 

“Good girl,” he praises you for not running off and decides that enough is enough, “Ya ever done that before?” 

“No.”

“And you took it so well? Knew I had someone special on my hands. You’re amazing, sweetheart,” he continues. 

Warmth settles in your chest, heartbeat slowly going down as his soothing words wash over you. A part of you wants to giggle and kick your feet.

Behind you, you feel him crouch down with a grunt (bad knees) to kiss the angry red spots he has made, swatting you gently after. He uses both hands to spread your asscheeks apart, admiring your dripping cunt, “All this just from me being a lil’ rough and giving you my special treatment? You’re dripping wet.”

“Can I come?” You dare ask.

“If you ask for it, use the magic word.”

“Please, Daddy, give it to me.”

“Of course, baby girl,” he pulls his hands back and stretches to his full height again. Two fingers enter you not long after, and a groan erupts from your mouth. He draws them back before shoving them inside of you, meeting little to no resistance from how turned on you are. 

“F—“

“No swearing.”

You pant at his touch, taking whatever he wants to give you. The pad of his thumb finds your swollen clit, putting on the slightest of pressure on the sensitive nub as the digit swoops from side to side. Meanwhile, he fucks you open with his fingers, “That what you like?” 

You moan desperately and nod, feeling his fingers push down at your g-spot and then curl inside of you. It makes you shiver, wet squelching sounding obscene in the quiet house. 

Your orgasm builds quickly, Joel’s work at your body speeding up as he chases your high. He gets more aggressive, but it only tightens the feeling in your stomach. Combined with him working at your clit, you come with a noise that can only be described as pathetic. 

“Daddy,” you mewl softly when he pulls his fingers back out of you. You can still feel your heartbeat jump in your cunt, and you rest your forehead against the cool surface of the counter. 

“Stand still,” he warns as you eventually try to get up, “Don’t move.”

You can hear the sound of Joel’s belt coming undone, then the button and the zipper afterward. You tense up, “What are you doing? They’ll come back soon.”

“I’m not fucking you,” he says before letting out a soft sound. You can hear him jerk himself off in earnest with the remainder of your slick on his fingers, ignoring the need for a pleasurable buildup. 

It feels dirty when he nudges your cunt with the head of his cock, not pushing into you despite how much you’d like that. He comes with a swear under his breath followed by a grunt, spurting white ropes across your folds. Some drip down into your gaping cunt, some onto the floor. You’re beet red. 

Then there’s the shuffling of Joel tucking himself away again. He goes to get the paper towels, handing you a few pieces to clean yourself off and crouching down to wipe the droplets off the floor. 

The silence is deafening as the two of you are left with thoughts of what you have just done. Joel was right, teasing him like that in front of your family isn’t a good idea. 

There’s sudden laughter outside the front door, footsteps too, and you scramble to throw out the paper towel and pull up your underwear.

“Better think of me when you sit in the backseat of your daddy’s car on your way home,” he says when you finally pull down your dress again. 

Fuck.

.

.

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[mpregdimension]

I melted back against the couch cushions, savoring the warmth of Santiago's muscular arms wrapped tightly around me. At 7 months pregnant, my belly had ballooned out enormously, though the sleepy Santiago still thought I was only carrying one big baby. If only he knew the truth that I had twin sons brewing in there.

"It's time for you to tell me how your three weeks in Colombia went. How're your parents doing?" I asked, craning my neck to nuzzle against his scratchy cheek. Santiago had just gotten back from another Colombia trip.

"They're good, babe" he mumbled groggily, planting a lazy kiss on my temple. "Mom keeps bugging me about when I'll finally bring you to meet them."

I managed a smile, though part of me worried his mother might not be as accepting of our relationship as she let on. Since I found out I was pregnant Santiago has stopped talking about his parents, children and friends like he did before, even though he travels to Colombia almost all the time to visit them.

"What about your...other family?" I ventured cautiously.

Santiago immediately tensed up, his eyes flashing open. "Paul, you already know I'm still in the same situation, there's no need to ask every time, please don't make me talk about that damn ex-wife," he grumbled, suddenly sounding more awake. "That shitty divorce is still going on for years, at least my boys are fine, busy at university without having to get involved in those problems."

Deciding to drop it, I just nodded and leaned back against his chest, breathing in his musky, familiar scent. Santiago nuzzled against my neck, his hands roaming down to cup my huge pregnant belly.

"Damn, you're getting so fuckin' big, babe," he purred in that deep, gravelly voice. "I can't wait to meet our little man."

Our little man...if only he knew. I worried my lip, debating whether I should finally tell him about the twins. 

Before I could decide, Santiago surprised me by whispering hotly in my ear, "You know...it's been way too long since I pounded that sweet ass of yours. Why don't we head to the bedroom so I can really go to town on you?" His breath was hot against my neck.

My eyes widened in shock at the bold suggestion, panic fluttering in my chest. As much as I craved intimacy with Santiago, I couldn't risk anything that might inadvertently trigger labor prematurely.

"Babe, I...I really don't think that's a good idea," I stammered awkwardly. "The doctor said rough sex is off-limits this late in the pregnancy."

He let out a deep, rumbling chuckle. "Who said anything about rough? I was thinking nice and hard...Help get you all loosened up down there for when the big day comes." His hand stroked along my thigh teasingly.

I gulped nervously, my heart pounding as desire warred with prudence. Part of me was tempted to throw caution to the wind. But the protective father within wouldn't endanger the twins.

"Please, baby," I pleaded, putting my hand over his to stop the sensual motions. "I want the memories of going into labor to be peaceful, not because we got too carried away fucking like animals."  

A frustrated groan rumbled from Santiago's lips as he begrudgingly pulled his hands away. His eyelids were growing heavy again, that burst of frisky energy fading. I could see him struggling between the urge to ravish me and the siren call of sleep.

Finally, with a defeated sigh, Santiago seemed to give in to exhaustion. "You're right, babe. We'll save that for after the little dudes get here." Within minutes, his breath had evened out into the steady rhythm of slumber. The lingering secret about my twin pregnancy is still burning in the back of my mind. Would it be better to keep it a surprise?

[runningfrom2am]

leveling the playing field IX

summary: with nowhere else to go after getting caught cheating to help lucy gray, you both make some desperately stupid decisions.

pairing: coriolanus snow x fem!reader

wc: 2.6k

tags/warnings: capitol brat!reader, maybe slightly ooc coryo, idk i tried my best. do they love each other or hate each other? who knows (we do, kind of). implications and mentions of abuse, so read with caution!! also a little bit of swearing but that's neither here nor there

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a/n: here we are!! 'season' two!! thanks so much for reading it and I'm SO so glad lots of people seem to love it :) if you do, please reblog it or leave your thoughts in the replies or in my inbox! i love hearing from you and talking about it so don't be a stranger !

without further adieu,, enter buzzcut coryo <3

next part

Coriolanus's stomach twisted as he could hear your screams from the hall, even though by then he was all the way on the other side of the school. He thought that was unsettling, only for them to abruptly stop just before he left. The silence that followed was so much worse. He didn't get any sleep, sitting on the roof in Grandma'ams rose garden with Tigris all night, wondering if you were dead.

He was just sick about it, even as he left the following morning, so early that the sun was yet to rise. It was a long, painful ride, and he spent the entire thing certain that you were dead. It was his fault, he had only wanted you to come with him, so he wouldn't be alone, but now he truly is alone and he won't even have you to write to back home. Regardless, he would try.

Rather than sit with the idea that it might even be pointless for him to live another day, especially with this unflattering haircut and a uniform that challenged the discomfort of the academy one, he decided to write to you on a paper he had found bunched between the train seats to ease his mind.

Y/N/N,

I hope you're reading this. I hope this gets back to you at home and finds you safe and sound, and you're sitting over your desk with a textbook open getting ready for university in the fall. That's not what's happening though, is it? You're probably dead. I probably killed you. If you are reading this in your room, or your library, or over my shoulder as I write this because you are only alive in what's left of your spirit, I hope you know that I am sorry. I did it because I wanted you with me, because in the moment I was so sure you'd be better off with me in the districts than you would be at home with your father. I think I was wrong. But I still miss you. You meant more to me than I ever told you. I guess, more than I ever told myself either until these last few weeks.

I think I heard them kill you after I left you with the Dean. If they did, boy, did you go out fighting. I always knew you would. I can't stop writing in case I never get to speak to you again. But again, maybe you're not dead, right?

Please tell me you're not dead.

Yours,

Always yours, your Coryo

He smoothes out the wrinkled sheet as he writes, hand shaking through most of it. He doesn't know if he should even bother sending it, or if he should just fold it up and throw it out the window in hopes that the message will find its way to your ghost. No, he has to send it. Otherwise he'll definitely never know, at least not for twenty years, and he couldn't bear that.

The wind hits the trees into the windows of the train as it rolls along the tracks, demanding that the branches be heard against the glass. It reminds him of you. Then again, what doesn't these days? Maybe it was just you letting him know you had read his letter, and that you forgive him. That would give him a semblance of peace for the rest of the ride.

When you woke up, it was impossible to tell what time it was. You only knew that it was dark, and your bedroom door was locked from the outside when you got up and carefully tried to open it only to be blocked by the mechanism.

"I have half the mind to agree with you on the Avox thing." You hear your dad sigh, his voice echoing from his study just down the hall. Your eyes widen and you try the knob again. Yep, still locked. "But we could always send her to Nine or Ten as a nurse. She's not staying here, that's certain."

"I don't want to push your decision, here, but she was saying she would tell everyone. She knows more than we thought, more details." Highbottom was here too, great.

"No, that's impossible. What did she say?"

"She knows we're selling, likely that you're storing it all here somewhere, and she knows it's enough to be treason. I don't know what else she knows, but it's risky business ever letting her out of that room again. The procedure might be our best option, here." You've heard enough, quickly making for your window instead. It's locked as well, but draping your old uniform over the lever gives you enough freedom to crush it with a particularly heavy, hardcover textbook without making much noise.

You change quickly, grabbing a few essentials that you could fit into your book bag, then climb out the window and slide down the back porch column before making as quiet of an escape as possible. Adrenaline carried you a few blocks away, but now, you were unsure what to do. You couldn't return, and you couldn't be seen, and you had a tragic shortage of friends at the moment. You find your feet carrying you toward the building you know Coriolanus lives in.

You're not particularly excited to see him, but with no other options, you're sure you can find it in yourself to be forgiving just this once. You could go to Sejanus's family home, but it's not far enough away, and you're not sure what his father would say. He'd probably call your dad in a second and it would all be for naught- you couldn't risk it. So, Coryo's it was.

You enter the building, walking straight for the elevator. He was in the penthouse, so you just have to hit the very top button and figure it out from there. You've never been to his home before, but he's talked about it plenty. Enough that you could find your way there, at least.

You groan when you quickly realize the elevator doesn't work, looking over at the stairs. It's a tall building, so you've got a long way to go. You wonder how he does this every day as you climb up set after set of stairs, taking note of how the walls are basically crumbling around you.

You knew he didn't have money, that he couldn't eat, but you didn't think he lived like this. No wonder he was so thin, and no wonder he still had any muscle left on his body. It was these damn stairs. That couldn't be it though, that wouldn't explain how his shoulders just seemed to go on for miles- maybe he had some kind of workout routine you never knew about.

You're drawn from your thoughts when you reach the top of the last staircase, hesitating to open the industrial looking door in front of you. Just beyond that was the front door to the Snow penthouse, and now that you're here, you're not sure what to do. Do you knock? You don't even know what time it is.

You sit by the door, deciding to think it over for a bit. It doesn't take you long to fall asleep leaning up against the wall where it meets the dusty floor.

Waking up, you're met with a gasp. "Y/N?" You blink open your eyes, seeing Tigris crouched in front of you, forehead creased with worry. "Are you okay? What are you doing here?"

"Tigris, hello." You mumble, gathering yourself to stand up as she helps you. "I, uh, I didn't know where to go, so..."

"Okay, okay. Come in for a second." She nods, holding your shoulder as she guides you back into the apartment. You squint at the sunrise through the large bay windows, she must have been on her way to work. "Can I get you anything? Some tea? You must be freezing..." She says, immediately shuffling into the kitchen.

"No, no. It's fine. Thank you, though." You insist, trying not to stare at the state the apartment has fallen into.

"Okay, well, please, take a seat. Tell me what's going on."

You nod slightly and move to sit down at their dining table where she joins you, reaching out for your hand which you gratefully take. "Did Coriolanus leave already?" You ask and she nods, giving you a sad smile.

"I must admit, I'm relieved to see you." She says, taking you by surprise. "Coryo thought you were dead. He was just so torn up about it, he said it was his fault but he wouldn't tell me why. I was expecting to see your passing in the papers this morning."

"Well, my days are numbered." You sigh, looking out the window again. The view was stunning. Maybe you would prefer a penthouse to your own large, empty feeling home. "My father and Dean Highbottom were discussing turning me into an Avox as a pity punishment, and I don't doubt that my father would rather bury me than have that on his name. I didn't stick around to hear their decision."

Tigris listens intently, squeezing your cold hands between her own. "And now, I don't know what to do. I had nowhere to go, I'm so sorry to intrude-"

"No, my goodness, please. You are always welcome here." She assured you. "But... what will you do?"

"I have to leave." You nod to yourself. "I have to leave and I can't come back, can I?"

"One day I'm sure it will be safe for you to return." She says, notably trying to put a positive spin on it. "I'll tell you what-" She stands quickly, going over to a hall closet and pulling out a large fur coat. "Take this, it can hide you and keep you warm. Take the next train to Twelve, that's where Coryo went." She places the coat in your lap. "He'll be ecstatic to have you and see that you're well."

You nod, standing up and pulling it on in a hurry. It was a beautiful coat, you could tell it was real fur. This must have belonged to one of their mothers. "Thank you, Tigris."

"There's another train headed there in about twenty minutes, if you rush you can make it. I had to check the schedule last night for him. Don't buy a ticket, just climb in a transport car from the opposite side, not the platform." She instructs you hurriedly,

You dig in your bag as you both head for the door, pulling out a handful of money and rifling through it to give some to her. You'll need some, but she will too.

"Here, Tigris. Take this." You say as she holds the door for you, and she instantly is shaking her head.

"No, no. I couldn't." She smiles awkwardly, waving a hand at you. "You'll need it more than I do, Coryo will be sending us cheques."

You smile at her understandingly, holding it out to her again. "If not for your help, then for this lovely jacket. Please take it. I insist."

Tigris sighs, taking it from your hand before pulling you into a hug which you gladly return. "Tell him we love him, okay?"

"He knows," You say, chin resting on her shoulder. "But I will."

It was dark again when your train reached its final stop, and you were curled up under the coat trying to sleep. You scramble to get up, having to bolt from the train before anyone came to unload the car.

Unfortunately, you didn't get the privilege of having a place to stay when you arrived, so once you're out of sight of the train, the best you can do is wander.

You don't have to wander long before you hear music. You didn't realize people were happy here, so the sounds of laughter and shouting and dancing coming from inside what looked to be an abandoned building made you tilt your head at the idea. Maybe you would just sit outside, around the side of the building where you won't be seen and you can listen.

You don't even get the chance to sit before you hear the singing start. It's Lucy Gray. You mentally scold yourself for not thinking of her sooner as you stand again quickly, finding yourself quite lightheaded. You must be hungry. Maybe there will be some food inside, or maybe you can find talk to Lucy Gray and maybe she'll let you stay with her. Just until you get yourself situated here.

Clutching your new coat tightly around yourself you walk in after attempting to dust off and salvage your clothes. Your favourite skirt and shoes took quite a beating throughout the day, and you're disappointed, to say the least. Hopefully Lucy Gray has a washing machine, but you doubt it. Did these people even know what a washing machine is? By the look of everyone in the room, the answer was a definite no.

Sure enough, Lucy Gray was on stage, singing her heart out. You had never seen her smile so wide, of course, and the kids surrounding her onstage were just as talented as she was at all their instruments. You've never seen live music like this before, only classical or opera where everyone sat quietly and listened until the end. This environment was entirely new to you.

Not wanting to interrupt, you wait until Lucy Gray steps offstage and her spot is replaced with a little blonde girl who couldn't have been older than ten.

"Give it up for the amazing Lucy Gray Baird!" The girl shouts into the mic, gesturing to your friend before more music started to play. "She'll be back, she's just taking a little break, but until then, you lot are stuck listenin' to me."

This is your chance. You push through the crowd and step into the hall you saw Lucy Gray go down. "Lucy Gray?" You call out hopefully, watching your step as to not roll a heel. In hindsight, these shoes were not ideal for the journey you took, but your options were limited by a time crunch.

"Lucy Gray?" You ask again, turning a corner and peeling into a large open room. It's a few moments before your eyes land on her, and she turns to face you having heard you walk in.

"Oh my days, I thought I recognized that voice!" She smiles, opening her arms and running up to you. "Y/N, my word, what are you doin' here?" Her excitement fades quickly into concern as she drops her arms from around you.

"Long story..." You chuckle nervously, pulling at your coat again as she nods for you to continue. "We got caught, for the compact. And the snakes, somehow. Coriolanus put our handkerchiefs that you used in the tank so they wouldn't attack you, I guess. I didn't know. Then they pulled us out of class the next day, he told them it was me, so then I put up a fight and they sedated me. When I woke up I was at home and they were talking about having my tongue cut out and turning me into one of those servants but I'm sure my dad would rather have me dead. So," You sigh, trying to summarize it as quickly as possible. "I ran."

Lucy Gray shook her head, mouth agape in shock at all the information she just took in. "Okay, wait... So they were going to kill you?"

You nod.

"But that teacher of yours seemed so nice."

"Sorry?"

"Yeah, he gave me some money and escorted me into the train himself."

You scoff, shaking your head. "He's never liked either of us, but that's only because I have dirt on him. I don't know what Coryo did."

"Well," Lucy Gray sighs, rubbing your shoulders gently. "I'm glad you're here. That you're safe."

"You too." You smile. "Can I just say, too, we were so proud of you. We were so lucky to be your mentors."

"I count myself the lucky one." She grins. "Let's move on, shall we? On the up and up."

"Yes, sounds lovely." You grin at her.

"Can I get you some water? Liquor? What do you need?" She asks, turning at that and going over to a bench in the middle that had a few water bottles.

"I would love some water." You breathe out, joining her and sitting down as she hands one to you.

"Lucy Gray, could I ask you for a really big favour?" You say after taking your first sip.

"Please." She nods.

"Can I stay with you?"

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[stonedcoldfoxtarot]

What was your crush thinking & feeling the last time they saw you?

Pile 1 -> Pile 2

Pile 3 -> Pile 4

Pile 1

AoP, 7oP, Moon, AoW, KnoC, 59oC, 10oS, Devil, 8oS (AoC)

Pile 1, your crush feels like you're their missing puzzle piece. For several years, they’ve felt incomplete or that something was missing from their life until they met you. For some, they’ve felt this way from the moment they laid eyes on you. As cliche as it sounds, this person feels that from the moment you walked into their life it’s as if the clouds parted and an angel descended from heaven into their world. Their desire for you runs deep, Pile 1, but they may be hiding their feelings for now. They don't want to scare you away or give the impression that all they desire is a physical relationship. Nonetheless, every time they see you, it requires a great deal of self-control to refrain from expressing how they truly feel.

The last time your crush saw you, they thought about asking you out but they chickened out and missed their chance. For some, they felt that the timing or location wasn't right and didn't want to risk scaring you away. This person might have a deep fear of rejection or think that you're so attractive and out of their league that if they made a move, you would probably reject them harshly or laugh in their face. They genuinely have feelings for you, so each time they try to psych themselves up but end up getting nervous. You might notice them engaging in small talk with you or making small gestures of affection or appreciation as an attempt to get closer to you. The last time this individual saw you, it hit them hard - they realized that they are head over heels in love with you.

Channelled Song: Cherish the Day by Sade

Pile 2

7oS, 10oW, 8oW, AoC, 5oC, Judgement, 9oW, 2oW (8oS)

The last time your crush laid eyes on you, Pile 2, they had this crazy urge to throw caution to the wind and run away with you. You made them feel like taking a leap of faith, whether it's just for one night or for a lifetime together. At that moment, all their problems seemed insignificant compared to the possibility of being with you. Your crush probably has a lot on their plate and often daydreams about a different life—one where it's just the two of you without any distractions or interference from others. Maybe they're already in another relationship or simply not ready for commitment right now. But despite all that, when they saw you last time, they couldn't help but entertain the thought of confessing their love for you anyway.

The last time they saw you, despite being excited they also felt a lot of disappointment and sadness about having to push down their true emotions and use their better judgment when it comes to this connection. Deep down, this person knows that you're the one for them, but they’ve decided to stay guarded against those feelings for now. Maybe they're waiting for things in their life to clear up before making a move towards you. But right now, they're choosing to just appreciate you from afar.

Channelled Song: Don’t Want to Miss a Thing by Aerosmith

Pile 3

8oP, 7oP, Fool (rev), 2oC, HP, 6oW (rev), 5oC, 8oW (Hermit)

Pile 3, you and your crush could work together or you may have met while either one or both of you were on the clock. When your crush last saw you, they kept things professional despite wanting to open up and speak or act further. They may have felt that it would have been foolish or unwise at the time due to others overhearing and making assumptions about your connection.

Pile 3, your crush deeply desires to start a relationship with you but they feel they would have to keep things between you two secret for now. Not because they want to sneak around or hide you - quite the opposite! They are afraid that once people know you two are together, they will try to turn you both against each other or find ways to sabotage the connection. They don’t want anything to come between this connection, so for now when they see you, especially at work, they play it cool and pretend to be focused on the tasks at hand. Despite this, they are ready to move things forward and come together publicly as a couple once the time is right.

Channelled Song: When I’m in Your Arms by Cleo Sol

Pile 4

7oS, 9oC, 5oS, HM, 10oC, Devil, 3oS, AoW, Judgement, Fool, 2oW, 6oP (KnoC)

Pile 4, it seems like your crush has mixed and conflicting thoughts and emotions about you. For some, this could have been a past sneaky link connection or someone who was “off limits” to you in some way. For others, they may see being with you as something forbidden or taboo, which only intensifies their desire.

You're the person of their dreams, Pile 4, not just in looks but also in personality and intelligence. In their eyes, you're the whole package. The moment they last laid eyes on you, they felt a sudden ache of longing to be with you. Unfortunately, this person might be sacrificing their own happiness to please others or conform to their family's expectations. It's sad because this has led them to become almost obsessed with you and it's slowly breaking their heart that they're not making a move towards you.

When they saw you last, all they could think about was how much they desire you and how desperately they dream about running away with you and starting a life together. However, reality quickly brought them back down to earth and most likely all they could offer at that time was kind words, a smile or maybe even an invitation for a casual hangout. Your crush genuinely likes you but in order for things to progress between the two of you, they need to stop caring so much about what others think and start living life on their own terms.

Channelled Song: If It Makes You Happy by Sheryl Crow

Thanks for reading🔮✨

© 2023 stonedcoldfoxtarot. All rights reserved. Please do not copy, translate, edit or redistribute.

[crownedwille]

My Favourite Mistake - Wilhelm/Felice (nsfw one shot)

So...I actually wrote it.

I didn't think I would but I worked on it all weekend to get it done for @youngroyals-events rare pairs week.

I will post this on ao3 as well and share the link here (and it might become a series)

This picks up right in the middle of Felice and Wille's makeout scene in 2.03 and continues without Henry interrupting.

Word count: 3k

Warnings: smut, oral sex (female receiving), handjob

For anyone who's out there who is interested in this, I hope you enjoy!

They were doing something Felice didn't ever expect them to do again.

They were kissing.

Felice knew it wasn't a good idea and she had tried to break it up before but the way Wille had looked at her then, desperate and pleading, made her throw all caution to the wind and give in. So what if they did, it was only a little kissing, it was nothing.

They separated for a moment to lie down, Wilhem was hovering above her as her back hit the sheets. He reached over to the desk to shut down the laptop that had still been playing that neither of them had been paying attention to and then he slightly pushed her down and closed the gap between them again. He brought his hand up to her face and gently brushed a curl away before they kissed again. The gentle touch made Felice's heart beat faster.

His lips on hers was still an unfamiliar feeling but not an unwelcome one. First the kisses stayed chaste but soon they both opened their mouths, wanting to taste more. Felice let his tongue enter and put her hand into the hairs on the back of his neck. Wilhelm readjusted his position without disconnecting their lips and one of his hands slowly found its way underneath her sweatshirt.

The second his hand touched her bare skin it seemed to ignite something inside them both. Felice made a small sound against their lips that Wille swallowed up and he took it as permission to let his hand glide further. They were still in (mostly) pg territory, they weren't doing anything wild but Felice wanted more, she wanted to feel him.

When his hand touched the underwire of her bra she ended the kiss with a gasp. Wille was looking at her with a mix of apprehension, desire and confusion. Felice helped to reassure him and make a decision by lifting her sweater over her head and lied back down.

She wore a simple black bra (she couldn't really ever go without one with her size), one that she wouldn't have worn if she knew where this evening was heading (she had enough 'sexy' ones lying in her closet) but it still pushed her boobs up nicely enough. She knew they were what drove most boys wild. If Wille didn't want them he didn't want her. She waited patiently to see what his next step was.

He dove down and put his lips over the swell of her breasts, tracing kisses over her cleavage. His movements were slow but not unsure but when he got closer to her areolas he lifted back up. Felice prepared herself for Wille to back out and tell her they should stop and she should leave but he surprised her. "Do you want...is it better to take it off?" He gestured to her bra.

Felice gave him a sweet smile and nodded. She reached behind her back and unclasped her bra, a movement she has perfected over the years. She let her breasts swell out and threw the bra somewhere on the bed and lied back down for him to look at her, eyes dark and dilated. She put a hand on Wilhelm's arm, hoping he would understand, see it as encouragement to want him to continue.

Fortunately he got it and went back to where he left off, leaving light kisses around her chest, doing his best to tease her and get her frustrated before he finally wrapped his lips around one of her nipples. Felice let out a small gasp and shut her eyes when he finally made contact.

He gave a light suck and then swirled his tongue around it, Felice arched her back into him, letting him know she wanted him to keep going. One of Wilhem's hands crept up and cupped her other breast, or as much as his hand could grasp and kneaded it softly in his hand. She knew her boobs were big and all the boys were obsessed with them and wanted to touch them, she understood the fascination, if she was a boy (or a girl into girls) she would probably feel the same way.

He started circling her nipple with his finger while his mouth was still on the other, making them both become perked up until he switched around, giving each breast the same treatment. She could tell Wille was becoming more engrossed in it, his movements less slow and more driven by desire. Felice squirmed, her nether region was throbbing. She ran her hand over from his bicep to his shoulder and to the back of his neck, just pushing slightly, making his head disappear more between her boobs. He buried his head deeper and was kissing every inch around it, his hand now settling on her hip.

Feeling his lips, the wet suction around her nipples was amazing and she could feel herself getting wetter. She was letting herself enjoy this as much as Wille seemed to be as he was lavishing her with eager kisses all over her breasts. He released one of her hardened nubs with a wet plop and started going down, leaving a trail of kisses down her stomach and stopped just below her navel at the hem of her pants. He was looking up at her, questioning, waiting.

"Can I eat you out?"

Felice didn't expect the actual words to come out of his mouth and it made her stutter. No boy has ever asked that. Sure, she's had one or two eat her out before and it had felt good but they had only ever done it once. They had never offered to do it again when they had been doing something sexual, it was always either sex or a hand-or blowjob. It was like they had pleasured her once and thought now there was no need anymore, she had gotten one favor and now all the boys felt like they were owed something (except her boobs, they all loved to get in between them). Felice hadn't felt like arguing about it, she hasn't been good at expressing her wants in the past and she was still working on doing that more.

And she wanted this, she really really wanted this. She didn't let him falter longer and bucked her hips up in invitation. "Yes, please."

She helped Wille tug down her pants and then her soaked panties (with just a minimal second of hesitation on his side) and now she felt very exposed. She was lying naked on the bed while Wille was still clothed. It wasn't a bad feeling necessary, she didn't mind it, in fact it kind of made her tingle. She did feel a little self conscious despite, it wasn't something she could turn off. She wasn't the perfect supermodel size, she knew that, she had a bit of a tummy and her last shaving has been a couple days ago, it's not like she has expected anything to happen tonight.

Wilhelm didn't seem to mind or even notice, he lowered his head and went back to tracing kisses over her stomach but now without the barrier of clothes beneath it he trailed lower to her core. Her breath hitched as she felt the press of his lips over her, and another gasp when she felt his tongue against her wetness.

His head poked out in between her legs. "Is this good?" Felice nodded. "Just...keep moving, maybe a little to the left."

Wilhelm obliged. "Like this?" His tongue touched her again and she sighed. "Yes, up a bit." And that was her sweet spot, Felice let out a moan. He swirled his tongue around more before drifting lower to the middle and pressing against her folds, digging his tongue deeper into her wetness.

Felice didn't know how much experience he had in this but she didn't care, his movements weren't super confident but he seemed genuinely interested in making her feel good and she was. She let herself relax into it and trailed her hands down to tangle inside his hair.

Wille seemed to take this as incentive to double down on his actions, switching between licking up her center and sucking on her clit and Felice actually moaned for real. It has been a long time since she felt like the center of attention and has been pleasured by somebody else. Whatever she had had with August didn't count, he surely hadn't paid attention to anything but himself. She barely even got off when they had sex.

But this was different. This was about her pleasure. And doing this with Wilhelm has been a long term sexual fantasy of hers. She couldn't believe she was now actually here.

She buried her fingers deeper in his hair and pressed him deeper into her folds, sandwiching his head between her thick thighs. Wilhelm didn't seem to mind, he closed his eyes and kept going, focused on his work. One of his arms stretched out and laid over her stomach, grabbing and caressing the skin.

"Yes, fuck!" Felice moaned and bucked her hips forward into his face which made Wille let out a groan against her. She couldn't keep still at this point, she could feel herself getting closer. "Wille, I'm..."

He opened his eyes and lifted his head, as much as the position allowed him and looked right at her. "Go ahead." There was an almost mischievous expression on his face and he swiped his tongue over her and flicked her clit again. Felice couldn't take it anymore, the image of Wille like that made her throb harder. She pushed him back down with her hands rather forcefully compared to the more gentle way she had done before and encased his head between her legs tighter. This way she could ensure him staying where she wanted him to.

Felice rotated her hips, Wilhelm wasn't doing much at this point anymore as she basically rode his tongue and his entire face was buried inside her cunt. It felt so good to be able to let go, none of her previous sexual partners would have allowed her to do this. Whenever her hands came close to their hair they always protested and got back up again, stating they didn't want to suffocate and Felice internally rolled her eyes and it always made her feel horrible.

(Especially since they still insisted on being deepthroated and it made her gag but that somehow was different)

She could feel when her orgasm arrived. Her thighs shook and clamped him down further for a moment. "Fuck, fuck, Wille." She moaned out his name and threw her head back and thrusted forward, feeling him between her thighs felt so good.

Wille let her rode out her orgasm and stayed in place the whole time. He couldn't resist a few more licks, gathering everything up before she gently pushed at him when the overstimulation kicked in and spread her legs so he could get up. Seeing the bottom half of his face so wet with her juices elicited a mix of arousal and embarrassment inside her. Felice couldn't help but let out a giggle at his sight.

God, did that really just happen?

"What?" He licked his lips.

"Nothing, just don't say anything corny now."

Wille smiled widely as he supported his weight on his hands. "Like what?"

He was still in between her naked thighs. It felt weird now to still be so exposed, he just ate out her pussy, could they actually be nonchalant about this?

"Like saying I taste so sweet or like vanilla or something." He finally moved away and Felice could close her legs, she grabbed the blanket and covered up her lower half. She was very aware that her boobs were still on full display.

Wilhelm chuckled. "You don't want to hear the truth then?"

Felice smacked his arm with a smile on her face. They could joke around, that was good, that made them still friends, right?

"But was it good for you?" Wille asked her, now sobering.

"Are you kidding, yes, it was so good!" She exclaimed.

His cheeks turned red. "Oh, okay...It was good for me too."

It was when she looked down for the first time and saw an unmistakable bulge in his sweatpants.

Oh. Right. Of course Wille was hard.

"Do you want me to take care of it?" She gestured to his erection. She didn't know if the spell was broken but she wanted to offer. If this was the only time this was going to happen then she wanted to at least have the opportunity to feel him.

Wille's eyes widened like he hasn't expected her to say anything. He changed his position on the bed and tucked on his sweatpants so that it wasn't so visible. "Sorry, I ‐ no, it's fine." He shook his head.

Felice shuffled closer to him. "I wouldn't have offered if I didn't want to." She decided to be bold and put a hand over his pants, cupping his hard dick. Wilhelm let out a small grunt and then hastily nodded. "Okay, yes."

They shifted back, Wille hovering over her, making Felice lie down again. He removed his pants and underwear and Felice couldn't help but sneak a glance. His length was hard and already leaking out precum out of the pink tip.

Wilhelm wrapped a hand around it and started jerking it but Felice knocked it away. "I said I would." She tentatively wrapped her hand around his cock, tracing some of the veins with one of her long nails, lightly scraping the skin and Wilhelm whimpered.

"I'm not gonna last long," he warned her. He was a teenage boy that has been on the edge for so long probably, of course she wasn't expecting him to last long. She traced a thumb over the head and used his precum to lubricate the entire shaft.

"It's fine, just use my hand." She wanted him to come for her, at this point she was desperate to see it. She kept a tight grip on him and let him rut into her hand.

There was a desperation to his movements, this wasn't really about pleasure, this was about chasing his high. In a different situation Felice would've liked to take her time to get him off, show off her skills more, maybe give him a blowjob or let him fuck her thighs (boys loved that) or maybe even let him fuck her. She knew she wanted it. Now that she had it so close she wanted to feel his cock inside her. She wondered if he was thinking the same thing right now.

But this wasn't the time and it probably never would be. This was going to be the only time they were foolish enough to give in and hook up and when this was over Wille would regret it and go back to Simon eventually. They weren't in love, this was just friends helping each other out and bringing comfort to each other.

Felice didn't yearn to be in a relationship with Wille, not anymore and she didn't mourn the lovesick girl she had been around Wille in the beginning of the semester but she was already mourning the possibility of doing more of this. Having actually enjoyable sex with a person she trusted and felt safe with.

"Felice." Her name. It was her name he was moaning. She relished in it. "Mmm, I got you," she said. Wille was thrusting more frantically, signaling his high approaching.

"Fuck." His cock twitched in her hand and the first spurt of cum erupted from the tip, peaking out from her grip. Felice removed her hand just to have Wille gripping his cock and taking control of the aim. The rest of his come splattered around his hand and some of it landed on her stomach and chest. Wille cursed when he saw it and milked out the rest of his come with his hand, letting more drip over her.

She let him come down for a few moments before she said: "You could've just told me if you wanted to come on my tits." She smiled teasingly, letting him know she wasn't mad about it. She looked down, the white cum streaks contrasted against her darker skin and she smeared it around her boobs which earned her another curse from Wilhelm.

They looked at each other for a moment, Wille still panting slightly and Felice realised something: she liked and desired him and that was the problem. It was messed up, she couldn't do this with him, she couldn't encourage this, she had to break this up now before things got more out of control.

"Well, I need a shower now." She lifted herself up and grabbed her sweater that was still lying next to her on the bed and put it on, foregoing her bra and then slipped on her underwear and pants again. Even though she felt warm and sticky and definitely needed a shower she felt better being covered again.

"Yeah, yeah." Wille followed her example and put on his clothes again. Felice got up and gathered the rest of her stuff and turned around to Wille again.

"So, see you tomorrow?" She internally cringed at how awkward it sounded. That's what she wanted to avoid, don't make it weird, just be normal and casual. Were they already pretending this didn't happen?

Wilhelm nodded, she could see his throat gulping and his jaw clench before he gave her a close mouthed smile. "Yeah, see you."

Felice repressed the urge to let out a deep breath and put on a smile herself. She did have practice in putting on a show and pretend like everything's fine. "Great."

She went out the door, careful nobody saw her sneak out of Wille's room and made her way over to Manor House. She quietly opened the door to her dorm and saw that Sara was sleeping soundly. She was glad, because she didn't really want to face her and have to explain what she's been doing and why she looked like she was doing the walk of shame. She also knew Sara would see right through her and realise what happened and she was Simon's sister... No, Felice didn't want to talk or think about it now.

When she stepped into the shower and let the warm water run over her body, that's when she finally allowed herself to let out a deep breath.

Fuck!

What have they done?

[ordinaryschmuck]

*Sighs*...Okay, yeah, Wish really IS bad

And I didn't want to go in thinking that. I went in with the most optimistic view possible. Because with EVERYONE treating this movie as the worst thing possible, a POX upon the house of mouse itself, I went in thinking that there's no WAY it's THAT bad. So when I finally watched, I decided...I was right. It's NOT that bad. But...Well...Let's get into it.

This is the part where I'd say "Positives First," to show off what worked before picking apart what didn't. Except that, aside from a few little moments and easter eggs that made me go, "Aw, that's cute," I'm coming up EMPTY. Every single thing--And I do mean EVERY SINGLE THING in this movie, from the animation, songs, characters, story, themes, ideas, and even EXECUTIONS...is ALMOST good. Every single aspect of this film ALMOST worked. The pieces are there and I can see just how this film could have been the masterpiece that was a CENTURY in the making. The problem is that there's ONE THING holding it back: Not enough time. And I don't just mean that the movie should have been longer. No, I mean that this movie needed another YEAR of production to tighten up EVERYTHING. Why's that? Well, let's go in order of the things I mentioned.

The animation is clearly trying to go for this mixed-medium style that movies like Puss in Boots: The Last Wish or Spider-Verse popularized. Those movies mixed hand-drawn animation with 3D models, making storybook illustrations or comic book art feel ALIVE. That's sort of Wish is going for. I hear people say that Disney's 100 year celebration should have been completely hand drawn to call back to their early years, but I tend to disagree. I think Disney making a movie that's mixed-medium is a better way to honor its one hundred years, taking the animation that made Disney huge and mixing it with modern CGI as a way to make it feel like a celebration of the old AND new. EXCEPT that it doesn't really look good, aside from certain screenshots. There are SOME still images where if you paused the movie at the right time you can get something that looks like a 2D image with CG touch-ups. For the rest of the movie, it looks like a modern CGI Disney film with a storybook filter slapped on it. It doesn't look TOO BAD when your eyes get used to it, but it doesn't stop the movie from feeling like it ALMOST hit the right mark. The only times it REALLY works is with Star.

Wha--No. No, not that one. That's the wrong Disney character named Star.

There he is. There's my little guy.

But look at him. He's a 3D character with hand-drawn touch-ups that really makes him feel like a 2D character brought to life. If the whole movie looked like HIM, then it would have been a revolutionary achievement for Disney. But it doesn't. Instead, it feels like a missed opportunity that would have worked better if they had more time to animate this film instead of leaving their animators scattered to the winds to make half-assed sequels or forcing out one to two projects every year.

There should have also been more attention given to the songs because...Oh my gosh, they're bad. They SOUND nice, I love the instrumentals and the POWER these people put into the vocals. "This Wish" and its reprise successfully gives me chills through how well they're sang and how epic the instruments make them. But the LYRICS...are messy. When you sit down and actually LISTEN to what's sung, it all just...BLEH. That's the best way I can describe it, I'm sorry! It's BLEH!

Why would a king in a fairytale kingdom in the distant past sing, "You're sure you're not the prob?"

"Throwing caution into every warning sign" doesn't come across as a person freeing herself from her insane king's vague warnings but ADHERING to them.

The way that Asha and King Magnifico sing about protecting wishes makes it sound like they're singing to EACH OTHER.

And "You're A Star." OH BOY! The song that's meant to explain how these animals can magically talk is just filled with allegories and allusions that think they explain EVERYTHING only to explain NOTHING. It's just vague nonsense that, again, SOUNDS nice, but offers no real substance. On its own, I guess I can get into it, but to tell a story, it falls apart. Because that's the difference when it comes to writing a regular song and writing a musical: You're not just making a good song, you're telling a story through MUSIC. Wish's soundtrack is one that's filled with catchy songs, but not ones that properly move the story forward. Not to mention how they're so jarringly out of character in cases like "This is the Thanks I Get." When Disney released the soundtrack, that was my favorite song because I felt like it perfectly fit this smug, egotistical prick who thought he was the best person alive. Turns out that's not what Wish was going for...Not entirely.

Magnifico feels like he's meant to be a mix between Gaston and Maleficent. A character that has a huge ego and loves himself more than anything, but has an incredible amount of power to make himself a threat. If done right, a villain like that could stand up to be with some of Disney's best. And, yeah, like everything else in this movie, he ALMOST works. When he's finally a villain, he's campy and over the top, making him entertaining...But notice how I said "When he's finally a villain." That's because Magnifico doesn't really become what he's meant to be until halfway through the movie. He starts off as a King with good intentions but paranoid ideals that doesn't make him evil, it makes him feel like a guy who needed evidence to prove that other magic isn't a threat. By the time he finally acts more like a Disney villain, it was such a jarring left turn that his sudden switch-up made me feel like it was somehow a nightmare sequence from Asha. He's NOTHING like the guy he starts out as, and it's not a natural change that flows well throughout the film. That's mainly because the story has a pacing problem worse than any movie I've seen. If King Magnifico's path to the dark side was slow and gradual, showing signs of his worst qualities first and make them more apparent as the film goes on, he would have worked INCREDIBLY. Instead, it comes across as his villainy was activated like someone flipped a switch in his brain that says, "Be evil now." It's the absolute REVERSE of a bad redemption story, mixed with a lazy explanation that it was dark magic that made him more corrupt when he should have been evil since minute one. And you want to know the worst part? He's probably the best character in this.

Asha...isn't bad. She's your standard quirky nice girl protagonist that Disney just LOVES to use, especially lately. It's just that Asha doesn't have that "Gets stuff done" attitude like Moana or Mulan, nor does she have the infectious charm like Maribel or Anna. Asha, instead, is a lot like her breakout song: Nice and enjoyably, but doesn't stand out from the biggest hits. As for her animal sidekick Valentino...He's not annoying, but he's not funny either. Honestly, his comedy peaked when it was revealed that this cute baby goat sounded like Clayface from that Harley Quinn cartoon. A joke, by the way, that got spoiled by the trailers, so it's not really AS funny in the movie. Honestly, Asha's SEVEN FRIENDS are funnier at times. Speaking of, those characters are very clearly meant to be the Seven Dwarfs. And it is VERY distracting because not only does it feel like only two or three of them are necessary to the plot, but they're the ONLY major reference that the movie shines a light on when it comes to Disney's history.

Would I have wanted this entire movie to be nothing but references of past Disney movies? Of course not. That's not how movies work. But Wish seems to have this problem where it doesn't really COMMIT to honoring Disney's legacy. The most it does is give the Seven Dwarfs human OCs, make them supporting characters, and throws in tiny little easter eggs here and there. Again, some of them are cute, but it's not enough. The same goes for when Wish tries to honor some of the tropes and cliches that Disney popularized. It's an animated musical with talking animals, a campy villain, an objectively pretty protagonist, and goofy sidekicks. But it takes more than ADDING that stuff to your movie in order to honor them. You need to look at what made those tropes and cliches work in the first place and make something that calls back to those classic films while still having something new to say. And Wish almost--ALMOST--has something new to say.

With everything surrounding King Magnifico and how he got more power with people's wishes, I almost thought Wish was going to be a film that called out modern Disney. At least, modern CORPORATE Disney, a company that takes ideas and thoughts created by dozens of talented people, twists them into something unrecognizable, and refuses to give those ideas back when choosing to do NOTHING with this great idea leaves them free of competition. And to stop something evil like that, you must make something of your own and work hard to make your idea yours instead of letting someone more powerful take it from you. I thought that would have been a GREAT message...But of course DISNEY wouldn't want a movie calling them OUT for their one hundred year victory lap. So, instead, we have a message that tries to get the same idea across, but in a simplified way where the wishes are taken LITERALLY and that the only way to get what you want is to wish hard enough for it. That is...NOT the message I want kids to learn from this as it often leads to bad expectations. If this movie tried an ironically anti-Disney message in ANY OTHER year, it would have a better chance of getting away with it. But for a hundred year celebration, there was no chance in hell.

Wish is NOT Disney's worst movie, but it's nowhere near the best. I love SO MANY of the ideas and what it TRIES to do, but there's a difference between good ideas and good executions. It was ALMOST good, but Wish was not the movie anybody was really wishing for...

[theseshipsshallsail]

Summary:

He could be quiet, Oliver reasons, glancing at the charcoal smudge of Elio’s lashes where they lie upon his Bottichelli cheekbones. The rhythmic rise of his shoulders as he breathes deep and even. Just knock one out into a tissue - or whichever item of clothing he finds on the hardwood floor - then settle in for a few more hours of sleep.

THE ESSENCE OF PLEASURE (IS SPONTANEITY)

The ethereal glow of moonlight still swathes their Manhattan apartment when Oliver jerks awake at some ungodly hour, hard and disorientated from a particularly vivid dream. Elio’s sprawled on his stomach beside him. Slender arms secreted under his mountainous pillows. Nose buried so thoroughly in the striped material that his occasional snuffling snores are barely audible over the yowling tomcat in the communal courtyard, below.

Ever the perfectionist, his exhausted boyfriend has been burning the candle at both ends: taking full advantage of Juilliard's sound-proof practice rooms to cram for his upcoming assessments. Keeping him fed and functional is an uphill battle - Pro and Annella’s sage advice notwithstanding - so Oliver hopes he’ll rest for a good while longer, yet. In all honesty, he wishes the same for himself, but his erection shows no sign of flagging, and the pressure of the sheets alone is a marked distraction at his aching groin. 

He should get up, really. 

Satisfy his carnal urges in the bathroom across the hall. 

But the bed is comfortable, despite its age, the ill-fitting window lets in a draft, and for his sins, the familiar musk of Elio’s skin - the underlying hints of Marlboro cigarettes, bergamot shower gel, and Oliver’s own Drakkar Noir - throws a fierce accelerant on the molten core of his arousal.  

Discretion might be the better part of valour, but where there’s a will, there’s most certainly a way: as evidenced by his maestro’s miraculous presence at all. And he could be quiet, Oliver reasons, glancing at the charcoal smudge of Elio’s lashes where they lie upon his Bottichelli cheekbones. The rhythmic rise of his shoulders as he breathes deep and even. Just knock one out into a tissue - or whichever item of clothing he finds on the hardwood floor - then settle in for a few more hours of sleep. 

The lingering aroma of spent passion hangs enticingly in the air, and flicking his left nipple between thumb and forefinger, Oliver’s thoughts wander to the frenzied smacks of their bodies the night before. The whispered words of encouragement as he thrust inside him. Harder. Faster. Più profondo! The eventual pleas for mercy when it was Elio’s nipples he took between his teeth; working the sensitive peaks until they were red and puffy.

He can hear them still - those phantom cries ringing out like a tefillah - and Oliver’s heart trips over itself as he throws caution to the wind. 

Eases the rumpled bedding from his bobbing manhood. 

Gathers the slippery beads of excitement to ease his way.

A vehicle pauses on the street outside. A muffled rendition of Lynyrd Skynyrd’s Free Bird rising from its tinny speakers. Oliver closes his eyes on the guitar solo - wriggles to make himself comfortable - and focusing on his sensitive tip, pretends it’s Elio’s whip-smart mouth stretching to accommodate his glans. Unsurprisingly, the mental picture zips a molten trail up his spine, so Oliver proceeds to jerk his cock in earnest; swallowing the raspy groans that choke his tinder-dry throat. 

Imagination turns to need - already, this bears the hallmarks of his fastest orgasm in years - and fumbling blindly over the side of the mattress, he forces his fretful hips immobile as he snags a pair of cotton boxers from amidst tomorrow’s discarded laundry. Elio’s, he discovers, thanks to a surreptitious sniff; the unadulterated scent a powerful aphrodisiac as he brings it to his face.

Just like clockwork, his strokes grow frenetic. The tightness of his scrotum building exponentially as a blazing fire rages at the centre of his being. Beyond his control, the tense muscles of his thighs tremble with urgency - no less violent than the stuttering of his lungs - and the garbled syllables trapped beneath his ribs emerge via stifled whimpers until -

A pointy chin digs into his shoulder.

Blunt nails skim the fading scar on his side.

A second, unabashed palm encloses his fist.

He didn’t hear the tell-tale signs of Elio stirring: the unsubtle creak of their worn-out box springs as he shuffled to close the scant distance between them. Or maybe he did, Oliver debates, while Elio presses a soft, barely-there kiss to his jaw. Airy and teasing, and nowhere near enough. Maybe he’d simply deemed it part of the fantasy. But the shock - the livewire sensation of Elio pulling rank on his pleasure - strikes a deliberate chord, and with a strangled whimper Oliver’s shoved past the thin grey line labelled just about there to right fucking now; his climax exploding like a supernova as bright white orbs dance behind his eyelids. 

It’s devastating in its intensity, yet Elio giggles with clear delight as liquid heat coats their still-moving knuckles. “Better now?” he asks, voice gravelly over his thundering pulse, and Oliver barely has the wherewithal to nod when the other man wriggles southwards, seemingly intent on licking the pearly streaks from his heaving midsection. 

***

Happy Valentine's Day, Peaches... remember when I went through that phase of shameless Oliver wank fics? Well, I figured these two idiots deserved a happy ending ❤️

[savemefromanepicoftimewasted]

Sometimes Change Can Be Better

John "Soap" MacTavish X Reader Platonic!Task Force 141 X Reader

Internally you rolled your eyes, this was either some ploy for you and Johnny to get closer which didn’t sound like a bad time. However there was also the idea that maybe Johnny didn’t have the best intentions which worried you. The only way to find out was to throw caution to the wind and simply try.

a/n:this fic was brought on by an idea that @gaylemonshark and I had, and I hope you enjoy it as much as I enjoyed writing it.

You and Marc had been the best of friends since childhood, you were the first person he opened up to when it came to his DID. His parents were completely unaware of the struggles he dealt with, from blaming himself for his brother's death, to his mothers abuse. He had told you first when he signed up for the army, shocked that you had beaten him to it. Your parents had been disappointed, angry that you were willingly putting yourself into danger. You didn’t want to admit it was because of Marc, that you’d heard whispers of what he planned to do. It had been a long and grueling few years, testing your limits every single day. Marc was the only reason you’d managed to stay alive as long, keeping you safe.

So when he got dishonorably discharged you followed suit, leaving your life behind to join Marc in where his adventure led him next. And then you’d been shot and left for dead, watching Marc crawl into the tomb your team had been raiding. No one had known that they were living their last few minutes, shot execution style. Except for you and Marc, for some reason they’d assumed you would die and left before you could say otherwise. A strange light seemed to glow from inside the tomb, causing you to shut your eyes tight. Marc had come running out moments later, pressing his hands against the wound.

“You’re gonna be alright sweetheart, I promise.” And Marc, true to his word, made sure you survived the night.

He’d told you all about Khonshu, the Egyptian god that had given him the ceremonial robes so he could help keep people safe. He’d done everything he could to make sure no harm ever came to you, of course after taking care of a few loose ends. It lessened the guilt he felt after dropping you off in London, saying that he couldn’t risk your life anymore. It had hurt to be left behind, you’d given up your entire life for him, and this was the thanks you got? Of course he had never asked you to do that, but you didn’t have anyone else in your life.

And then one day he simply showed back up, bag thrown over his shoulder and a poor excuse as to why he’d suddenly come back. You wanted to slam the door in his face, to tell him that you wanted nothing to do with him. Except you couldn’t do that, not to someone that had been your friend for so long. So you invited him in and made him a cup of coffee. He admitted to everything, getting married to a woman named Layla, getting divorced from said woman. You were more upset that you hadn’t been invited to the wedding than the fact he’d gotten married.

There were never romantic feelings between the two of you, something you were a little thankful for considering that could end a friendship faster than anything. Marc on the other hand would scare away any romantic partner that tried to get close to you. It became very annoying after the first few times, especially when you wanted nothing more than for someone to warm your bed for the night. You’d all but kicked him out for the night, demanding to be left alone until you called him in the morning. Marc had showed up nearly four hours after you called, more annoyed than anything.

“Now you know how it feels! I’m not a kid Marc, you don’t need to worry about me at every turn and corner.” You didn’t want him to keep hovering, it was becoming tiresome.

“I’m going to worry about you anyway, you’re my best friend.” Marc patted your shoulder gently, heading over to make himself a cup of coffee.

You opened your mouth to make a retort, that even though the two of you were the best of friends that you needed space sometimes. However a bright light encompassed your entire apartment, bathing the space in a warmth that seemed to sink into your bones. It was the sudden pull that worried you, what the hell was going on?

“Marc?!” Your panicked scream caught his attention, turning around and shielding his eyes from the light.

“Y/N!” Marc reached towards you, body pulling into what felt like a black hole.

Your body was thrown around, struggling to slow down as you hurtled toward somewhere completely foreign. The ground came hurtling towards you faster than you’d been expecting, throwing your arms out to try and stop yourself from slamming against the hard wood. Unfortunately it did little to soften the blow, pain radiated throughout your entire body as you lay gasping for air. After a few excruciating moments you had finally been able to catch your breath, pushing up and off the floor slowly.

A gun pressed itself against the back of your head, an imposing form stood ramrod straight and waiting to see what explanation you would be able to give.

“I know this is going to sound insane, but I’m pretty sure I just got transported from my universe.” Sure there were Norse gods and even Egyptian gods that roamed the streets in your world, but this wasn’t home.

“You really think I’m dumb enough to believe that?” The gun pressed closer, digging into your skin as the person stepped closer.

“I swear! I was in my apartment with a friend of mine when this big ball of light came out of nowhere.” God you really did sound insane, they definitely weren’t going to believe you now.

You waited with baited breath for the safety to turn off, but no such noise happened. Instead the person behind you lowered the gun, stepping away from you slowly. You didn’t so much as relax your breathing, keeping your eyes focused on the wall in front of you. It was better to assume the worst than believe that everything would be alright.

“You’re coming with me.” A hand wrapped around your bicep, all but dragging you out of the room and into what looked like a living room.

Holy shit, had you managed to land yourself in someone’s apartment? Oh shit you were definitely not going to make it out alive now. Would Marc be able to find you before they did unspeakable things to your body?

“You were right, Price, something did happen.” The man shoved you towards a kitchen table.

Three men sat around the table, sending a nervous shiver down your spine as you took them all in slowly. The one closest to you could damn well be a model, you were half tempted to ask him if he was. The man in the middle had a look about him that screamed dad. Was he the dad of the group? The man on the left of him, to your right,  definitely had you feeling a little more tongue tied. He had a rugged look about him that screamed “I’ve definitely seen some shit, but I can also make you laugh”. Definitely the cutest out of the three that you could see, considering your captor(?)was wearing a balaclava.

“What’s your name sweetheart?” Dad had leaned forward, hands clasped atop of the table.

“Y/N, sir.” Why did you feel the need to be so formal with him? Or with any of the men for that matter.

“Can you tell us exactly how you got here?” You nodded, pulling out the chair closest to you before sitting down.

You left out some of the less than pleasant details, only letting them know that you’d had a small argument with a friend before you suddenly found yourself here. To anyone that hadn’t witnessed what you had, they would’ve thought you were insane for sure. For someone like you it was normal, watching people from different universes land right in front of you. Hell, you had been snapped from existence for five years because of some purple alien. That was a horrible time, but after finding out that Marc had been snapped too you felt a little better.

“Have to admit, it’s pretty insane, but there’s stuff we just can’t explain.” It sounded like a poor excuse, but you’d told them all you could.

It helped ease your mind for a moment, if they believed that you hadn’t somehow snuck in to cause issues then surely everything would be alright. Hopefully Marc wasn’t getting himself into too much trouble.

_______

It felt strange being around the team, but at the same time you’d grown quite close to the group of men. You and Gaz had become nearly inseparable after meeting, playing harmless pranks on the other guys. It was kind of nice to not have any worries for a little while, even if the time was slowly taunting you. It had been nearly six months since you’d arrived and there was no guarantee that you would be leaving at all.

On one hand you didn’t want to, these people were some of the best you’d met in your entire life. Being a veteran helped get you into their good graces a little quicker, you had told them about your own past, the things you’d bared witness too. It was simply a natural thing for you, once you felt comfortable with someone new you’d bare your soul. The group had offered to head out to a pub for a night out, and who were you to object?

However you’d forgotten how much of a lightweight you were, and after only two drinks and three shots in you were definitely drunk.

“I’m telling ya! There’s a correlation between daddy issues and wanting to be bear hugged.” Your filter had slipped away completely, leaving you vulnerable to your own words.

“And why do ya say that?” Soap was more confused than anything by your statement.

“My dad was super emotionally absent, never told me he was proud of me, never told me he loved me, and was overall really sucky.” You normally never talked about your parents, considering neither of them were very supportive.

It hadn’t bothered you as often anymore, considering the fact that you’d slowly started to accept the fact that you’d be on your own. They were angry when you decided to stay in London, even after Marc stopped speaking to you. You wanted to visit for the holidays, but with how standoffish they’d become it was better to avoid them altogether. Sometimes a family you make is better than a family you have.

“Well, why don’t we test the theory?” Price stood up from the booth, smiling when you all but threw yourself over Soap’s lap.

“Yes please!” You threw your arms around his waist, relishing in the way his arms tightened around you.

Hugging Price felt like coming inside after a cold winter day to a bowl of warm soup, the first rays of sunshine after a rainstorm. It truly was something that you couldn’t fully explain, but it slowly warmed your heart. Even though he didn’t have any children of his own just yet, Price definitely gave a warm dad hug.

“I could fall asleep standing here if you let me.” You laughed into his chest, the soft scent of his cologne wrapping around you.

“As much as I’m sure you’d like to do that, we are standing in people’s way.” John was the first to let go, patting your shoulder gently.

“Thank you, it means more than you’d think.” You squeezed him one last time, sliding back into the booth beside Johnny.

The conversation seemed to flow to a lighter topic, leaving you feeling both comforted and happy that you could really open up. Kyle and Simon were talking about the different sights they’d see during missions, how they wished they sometimes could take photos as keepsakes. You knew how dangerous memories could be, if the wrong person found out where you’d been on a certain day it could end in death for you, or someone close to you. So instead you kept everything to memory,

Sunrises when you’d spent the entire night trying to run from the enemy, sunsets alongside Marc who was doing his best to ruin your day. Life hadn’t turned out the way you’d expected, nothing ever truly did, but this was a nice change of pace. You were surrounded by people who wanted you there, who laughed at the terrible jokes you made, who brought your spirits up when you were upset. It made you miss Marc at times, considering how long you’d known one another, but he wasn’t here.

Johnny leaned back in his spot, casually stretching and laying his arm across the booth along your back. You knew exactly what he was trying to do, it was something you’d seen in countless movies, and dealt with time and time again before. You didn’t say anything though, waiting to see if Johnny would work up the courage. Your prayers were answered as his arm slid down, warm skin pressing against your own as his fingers rested against your shoulder. Simon was the first to notice what was going on, a smirk pulling at his lips. He wouldn’t draw anymore attention, knowing it could ruin an otherwise sweet moment.

“Why don’t we get something to eat, soak up some of the liquor our dear friend has been drinking?” John slid out of the booth, pulling Simon with him to go put the order in at the bar.

“I’m gonna help em, lord knows they’ll end up dropping all the damn plates.” Kyle rolled his eyes, sliding out and following behind the other two men.

Internally you rolled your eyes, this was either some ploy for you and Johnny to get closer which didn’t sound like a bad time. However there was also the idea that maybe Johnny didn’t have the best intentions which worried you. The only way to find out was to throw caution to the wind and simply try.

“Looks like they abandon us, how rude.” His tone was teasing and playful, but with his lips being so close to your ear it sent a shudder down your spine.

“Well I think you’re correct, quite rude of them indeed.” You turned your head, eyes locking onto his.

His eyes were like deep blue pools, and you felt that you would get lost in them if given the chance. Had he always been this beautiful, or was your mind suddenly clear enough to see what was truly in front of you? Your eyes flicked to his lips and back up, when had your mouth suddenly become so dry? Johnny didn’t give you another moment to debate before pulling you flush to his side, his left arm wrapping around your waist. The other three hadn’t come back yet and you were grateful, nothing worse than having your kiss ruined.

“Johnny, please.” Your voice was breathy, hand sliding up his chest.

“Since you asked so nicely.” He smiled before pressing his lips to yours so softly, you weren’t sure if you’d ascended to the heavens or not.

Your lips moved together methodically, the stubble lining his chin burned so pleasantly. He groaned into the kiss, hands gripping your waist tighter. Someone clearing their throat loudly caused the two of you to pull apart, you couldn’t hide the embarrassment on your face. Johnny of course was as confident as ever, hiding your face in his side to protect you.

“We come bearing food, so if you wouldn’t mind not acting like teenagers that would be wonderful.” Kyle set down two plates along with Simon and John setting down the other five.

“Sorry, got a little distracted.” You playfully slapped Johnny’s chest, straightening yourself up and fixing your hair to be more presentable.

“We know, you have some lipstick leftover.” Johnny reached up to wipe off his lips, noticing that Kyle wasn’t lying.

“They said it was transfer proof, damnit.” You’d gone shopping earlier that day, wanting to get a few more personal things since you were still stuck here.

“Don’t believe those, had plenty of girls kiss me and leave their mark.” Kyle was confident, and for good reason, so you weren’t surprised he’d pulled many ladies before.

John shut down any more comments and instructed everyone to dig in before the food started to get cold. You grabbed the mozzarella sticks right away, laughing when Simon gave you a shocked expression. Who didn’t love fried cheese? It was downright delicious. You gladly handed over a few of them in exchange for some of the fries he had. The food hit the spot, soaking up your drinks and sobering you up ever so slightly. You were definitely still tipsy, but nothing like before.

The rest of the night was filled with stories and laughter, putting you on the spot to tell an embarrassing story as everyone else had done so. You told a story about you walking in on Marc and his girlfriend at the time doing the hanky panky. It was a story you and Marc joked about constantly, mainly because the girl he was dating was loud. Had it not been for your headphones you would have heard them in the hallways. Kyle promised not to walk in on you and Johnny later, further causing you to hide in shame.

John was driving everyone back, seeing that he’d only had one pint early on in the night and didn’t trust anyone else to drive in their inebriated states. Simon called shotgun immediately, leaving Kyle stuck with you and Johnny in the backseat. You knew to behave, being in a confined space was a recipe for disaster. Your mind went back to where Marc was, and if he was safe. Surely he could handle his own, he’d done it for years after he left you to fend for yourself in London.

“Alright, please make it to your rooms and do not get into the damn kitchen again please.” John had pulled up outside of his apartment.

It was an agreement that any time you guys went out everyone would crash at someone’s apartment to make sure they were all doing well the next day. Simon was a tank when it came to alcohol, he could drink everyone under the table and still seem as if he was sober. Kyle could hold his own but he became very giggly and cuddly. John was your typical drunk guy, made bad jokes and laughed at everything. Johnny you were beginning to learn was a major flirt, and a damn good kisser.

“Alright captain, see you in the morning.” Kyle made himself comfortable on the couch, not even bothering to change into something more comfortable.

“You two better behave, don’t want the neighbors banging on my door because you kept them up.” John pointed his finger between you and Johnny.

“Don’t worry, we’ll be good.” Johnny steered you towards one of the extra bedrooms, shutting the door behind you.

You grabbed your pajamas and laid them on the bed, sliding your shirt off before unclipping your bra with a soft groan. No one liked wearing bras, they were uncomfortable and annoying to put on and taking them off felt so good.

“Jesus.” Johnny’s voice was breathless, gaze wandering over the skin that was now on display.

“Mmm?” You’d completely forgotten he was in the room with you for a moment, unbuttoning your pants and sliding them down your legs.

“All this for me?” Johnny walked over slowly, palms sliding over your back and sides.

His skin was hot to the touch, like fire and ice.

“Maybe.” You leant back against his chest, relishing in the feeling of his body and hands against yours.

“I’ll be sure to appreciate it very much.” His lips pressed against your neck, sliding down to the waistband of your panties.

You couldn’t stop the moan that slipped through your lips, not realizing you would be making those noises for the rest of the night.

—---------

Sunlight was streaking along your intertwined bodies, soft snores filling the otherwise quiet room as the two of you slept peacefully. Simon and Kyle tiptoed in the room, carefully pulling the sheet over your body so that you would still be covered in case Johnny flailed. Somehow both men had woken up completely fine, no hangovers in sight. Stepping away from the bed Kyle raised his hands to start clapping loudly. Simon prepared himself for however Johnny was going to react.

“Wakey wakey love birds! Time to get up!” Both you and Johnny lunged up in bed, grabbing onto the sheet to keep yourself modest.

“Jesus, what the hell’s wrong with you?” Johnny was more annoyed at being woken up than that they were seeing the two of you nearly nude.

“John’s making food and wanted us to get you.” Simon shrugged before heading back out of the room, letting Kyle shut it behind him.

You flopped back into the pillows, head throbbing with a hangover from all the alcohol you’d had the night before. Clearly they hadn’t been affected and now you were annoyed. Not only was your head throbbing from the hangover, your entire body was sore from last night as well. Johnny was a man who knew damn well how to make you feel good and leave you wanting even more.

“Mmm, c’mere.” Johnny slid his arms around your waist, pulling your body flush to his own.

“Don’t think I could take you again this morning, a little too sore.” It was a good type of sore, something that would resonate for a couple of days at the least.

“‘S too bad, could just eat you right up.” His lips pressed against your neck softly, trailing down until they reached the top of your chest.

“Johnny, please.” Your nails dug into the skin on his shoulders, breath shaky as you tried to stop the racing of your heart.

Unfortunately Simon chose that moment to start banging on the door, demanding the two of you come out and eat breakfast. Both you and Johnny groaned, pulling away from one another to grab your clothes. He didn’t bother to pull on a shirt, leaving his torso on display in all its glory.

“Better put on a shirt unless you want Simon pointing out all the hickies you have.” His chest and neck were littered with dark purple splotches, scratches lining the skin on his back.

“You just don’t want ‘em seeing your handiwork.” Johnny was a confident man, had every right to be considering how he looked.

“Maybe I want to keep you all to myself for a little longer.” The shirt you’d stolen from Simon a couple months ago landed on your mid thigh, covering the shorts you’d thrown on.

“After breakfast I’m all yours.” Johnny threw a wink your way, pulling on his shirt from last night before heading out to the kitchen.

You fanned yourself for a moment, memories from the night before flooding your mind. Hopefully they hadn’t heard you and their teammate getting down and dirty like two college kids. John was sitting at the table, nursing a cup of coffee and scrolling through his laptop almost absentmindedly. Gaz and Simon were both cooking breakfast and brewing tea, and coffee for whoever wanted to partake. The moment Johnny’s eyes landed on you he pulled you into his lap, arms wrapping around your waist.

“Keep it PG you kids, don’t want to see the two of you going at it.” You hid your face in Johnny’s neck, hiding the way your whole body flushed.

“No worries cap, we’ll behave.” It didn’t matter if he was joking, Johnny wouldn’t push you if it made you uncomfortable.

You went to make a retort at John, to tell him that you were going to be on your best behavior around everyone else, until a knock at the door stopped you. It could be a number of people, and now you were nervous that they were going to be sent on a mission and leave you here. John went over to see who it was, opening the door slowly and carefully.

“Can I help you?” His voice wasn’t friendly, whoever this was was a complete stranger.

“Uhh hi, I’m looking for a friend of mine and I think she might be here?” Wait, you knew that voice.

“Marc?” Your head whipped up, body straightening as you waited to see if you were correct.

“Y/N?” Marc sounded shocked, he’d finally managed to find you.

John stepped back to let him inside, shutting the door behind him to keep the sense of privacy to everyone else in the apartment. You were ecstatic to see him standing before you, it’d been so long that you weren’t sure you’d ever see him again. Pressing a quick kiss to Johnny’s cheek you pushed yourself to run over to Marc, hugging him tightly.

“It’s been so long! Where the hell have you been?” If you were an honest person you’d tell Marc he looked like hell, his hair was a little longer, a beard covering his normally smooth cheeks.

“I’ve been looking for you, I’m pretty sure we both got sent here.” Marc suddenly realized how many people were standing around staring at him.

Simon was glaring at him, arms crossed over his chest as Gaz simply raised a brow in a “who the fuck are you?” type of expression. You were too afraid to turn around and look at Johnny and see how he looked.

“Sorry, these guys have been keeping safe since I got here. That’s Simon, Kyle, John, and Johnny.” You turned back around to face Johnny, noticing that he didn’t look angry at all, he looked almost lovestruck.

“Nice to meet everyone.” Marc wouldn’t admit how nervous he felt, it was obvious these men could kill someone and make it look like an accident.

“How’d you manage to find me?” You pulled him over to the table, sitting back in Johnny’s lap while Marc took the chair between you and John.

He began to explain how he’d landed somewhere in the US and spent the first couple months trying to work odd jobs to help get enough money to find you. Khonshu had also followed him, so at least he was safe from anyone who wanted to harm him. And then he began to talk about how he illegally hacked into a military base and managed to find you through security cameras. Had you not gone out with the boys the previous night it would’ve taken him longer to find you, according to Marc at least.

“So, get your stuff so we can go home.” Marc stood up, brushing off his pants and waiting for you to comply.

“Oh..Marc I don’t think I want to go back.” Your life here has been happier in the last few months than back in your own universe.

“What? Are you serious right now?” Marc was getting annoyed, why the hell would you want to stay somewhere you didn’t exist?

“Yes, I actually have people that like having me around, it’s not like my parents are going to be so sad that I suddenly disappeared.” They’d move on within a few weeks, you were sure of it.

Marc wanted to retort, to say that you were making a horrible decision by staying with people you truly didn’t know, but with the way one of them was glaring at him, he thought better of it.

“If I go back without you, there’s a chance you’ll never be able to go back, I need you to understand that.” Marc was hoping you would understand where he was coming from, however you stood strong.

“Marc, you know I care about you a lot, but I didn’t have a purpose there, I was working a deadend job waiting to see what life would give to me. I was depressed and not even you cared enough to stick around for longer than a week.” You loved Marc, and Steven, but you needed something stable in your life.

“I’ll give you a few more days to think about it, but if your mind is truly made up then I’ll leave you to it.” Marc sighed, turning without another word and leaving the apartment.

Johnny gently squeezed your hip, trying to reassure you that he was here if you needed the support. You laid your fingers overtop of his own, his touch seeming to ground you even more than usual. John was frowning, it was a look that you didn’t prefer seeing on his face, or any of theirs for that matter.

“I need to know, I don’t want to push myself onto you guys if you don’t want me here, I know I just kind of got dropped here by accident but..yeah.” Your heart started to race, what if they didn’t want you to stay after all?

“Sweetheart, I think I speak for everyone here when I say that we would love nothing more than for you to stay here with us, you’ve been the best thing that came into all of our lives.” Johnny’s words warmed your soul.

You’d finally found your purpose, felt like you truly belonged somewhere you’d found yourself, albeit by complete and total accident. You would sit down and talk with Johnny before making the final decision, this wasn’t something to take lightly.

—-------

Marc was waiting inside the cafe near the apartment you were staying in, waiting to see if you would be coming home with him or if this was a final goodbye. He’d ordered himself a coffee, rolling his eyes at the looks he got from the barista. Sure, they were in England and he could’ve let Steven take over when ordering but he wanted to speak with you personally.

“Sorry I’m late!” You ran over to the table, pulling out the chair and sitting down quickly.

“I’ve only been here for a couple minutes anyway, you’re fine.” Marc wouldn’t tell you the truth, that he’d finished his coffee and nearly ordered a second cup.

“I’ve made my decision, I sat down with everybody and we talked about what would be best for them but also for me.” You looked down at the table, afraid to see the hurt that was coursing through his eyes.

Marc already knew the answer, he knew he wouldn’t be leaving with you by his side, that he was losing the one true friend he had. It was painful, deep down he would always think about your friendship and how even through thick and thin you were there for him. This wasn’t his decision though, you were able to make your own decisions and he needed to respect that.

“Umm, Stephen Strange contacted me last night, he found out about what had happened and offered to let us come back today and when I told him that I wanted to stay he promised that we could keep in touch.” You looked up slowly, watching the realization dawn on Marc’s face.

“Wait, he’d be able to let me visit?” This wasn’t something he thought possible, he’d always assumed it would be a one way ticket home.

“He gave me a way to contact him if I ever wanted, or needed to see you.” Your eyes filled with tears, a happy smile pulling up your face.

Marc threw himself around the table, pulling you into a vice tight hug. He wouldn’t lose you after all. Steven was rejoicing in his head, he seemed even happier with the news you had given them.

“Better let me be invited to your wedding.” Marc muttered into your hair, you couldn’t help but laugh.

“You’ll be the first to know.” You pressed your face further into his chest, letting tears soak into the cotton of his shirt.

“I’m gonna miss you a lot kid, try not to get into too much trouble without me around.” Marc pressed a kiss to your forehead, this day was ending on a much happier note.

“I’ll try.” You pulled from his embrace, giving him one last smile before running from the coffee shop to where Johnny was waiting outside.

Marc watched the way he wrapped you up in his arms, smothering your face in kisses while you laughed loudly. He’d always been your protector, needing to keep you safe from the horrors of the world, but now you had someone else to do that for you. And he wouldn’t lose you, not anymore.

[cassiasims]

Your Cameron timeloop fic sounds so cool! I don’t write timeloop usually bc it stresses me out to write but I love it as a reader and a concept. What kind of gave you the itch to write it - like what are you finding super fun about it?

OKAY SO time loop stories are kind of my white whale; always wanted to write one, have about 6 different drafts for different fandoms dating back as far as 2017/18, and never really managed to pull it off (apart from a one-shot i wrote 3 years ago, and that was less ‘time loop’ and more ‘reincarnation’—the loop wasn’t an enclosed time period). time loops are so interesting to me because they’re a physical manifestation of what is (usually) an internal conflict of some kind; the loop is a metaphor and a way for characters to work their shit out, but it’s also real, and brings its own set of problems. in groundhog day, phil’s loop forces him to confront his own cynicism and become a better person; in russian doll, nadia and alan’s loop forces them to process their own trauma (with the addition of them dying at the end of every loop); in undertale (i would argue that its save/reload ‘memory’ and the fact that you have to play it at least twice for the true pacifist ending qualifies it partly as a time loop story), the loop forces the underground to reckon with its desire for freedom and what they’re actually willing to do to get it. it’s an external obstacle that forces internal processing, and that is FUN but also scary as hell to write. my gut instinct whenever i consume a new character-driven piece of media is always to daydream ‘well what if there was a time loop?’, because for me it is THE ultimate blender to stick people in and see what comes out.

why i chose cameron (and the events of hunting specifically) is a bit more complicated. first things first: i love cameron. i love WRITING cameron, because time and time again in the show there’s a clash between what she believes abstractly and what she actually finds herself capable of following through on, and that’s a fun internal/external conflict. can you see where i’m going with this. and cameron is having…a TIME in early s2. the premiere of s2 literally has her going through the stages of grief in order, and that foreshadows the next few episodes pretty well for her. she’s not happy, and stuck in a rut, and everyone can see it—the other fellows, house, wilson, even the TB doctor. and it’s not like she’s going to just pack up and leave—she’s worked hard to get where she is! she’s fought so hard to be taken seriously! it’s got to mean something! and i think she’s been feeling that way a while (for example, why does a person like cameron apply for a job under house in the first place? he’s the best there is, but they have very different beliefs and attitudes towards patients, and when she finally leaves the fellowship she turns around and ends up doing something completely unrelated—i think it’s because she’s looking for meaning even back then). hunting is such a great episode because it brings to a head what’s been bubbling under the surface for a while now: secretly, a part of cameron does want to change. she suddenly has the perfect excuse to throw caution to the wind and do something different. and it’s tragic because of course it turns out that the patient is lying to her, that he’s just as unhappy as she is even with all the partying and casual sex, and ultimately cameron comes away from that episode with a better understanding of herself but…she’s still unhappy, you know? she’s determined to act like it didn’t happen and move forward. and the great thing about a time loop is that it forces you to confront things. the only way out is through. that’s why the loop is set the day after she does the meth, and not the day before: if cameron were stuck in a loop of that day, the first thing she’d realistically do is. Not do the meth. and not call chase. and since the main point of this fic is to force her to confront the aftermath of that, it has to be the day after. she can’t change the past, but she can (and will!) change how she deals with it.

i’m also interested in hunting because of cameron and chase’s conversation in lockdown, when she tells him that she slept with him on meth because she was starting to already have feelings for him and it scared her and she pushed it away. because like. this is entirely characteristic of cameron. i 100% believe this is what happened. there is also zero fucking evidence from the writing that this is what happened. there are occasional callbacks to cameron’s HIV scare later in s2, and the fact that she’s slept with chase before gets brought up in s3 during the fwb era, but between hunting and insensitive cameron and chase basically act like none of it ever happened and most of the s2 drama is between cameron and foreman instead. so this is kind of a fix-it, as well: i’m bringing those feelings to the surface and making chameron happen earlier because this time there is no running away. the fallout of this is gonna vary—@all-pacas wrote up a very good meta recently about how chase’s provoking of the patient’s brother into suing him in the mistake very likely happened a day or two after he slept with cameron, and therefore that might not happen if him and cameron actually TALK ABOUT THINGS and he doesn’t hoard up more guilt and frustration—but there will be a happy-ish ending. i say ish because ultimately this isn’t really a ‘shipfic’ and therefore things will be a bit messier than they are in, say, groundhog day, but the fic will end with them together and things will be better than they were at the beginning.

anyway this fic is so crazy fun to write for a lot of reasons, but what has really taken me by surprise is how much i’m enjoying writing FOREMAN into this fic. cameron is spiralling (time loop) and chase is concerned and house is intrigued and meanwhile foreman is just stood in the corner going ‘guys 🤨 anyone gonna fill me in 🤨’. one of my fave parts of the first chapter is the section where cameron starts drawing a clock to see if she has encephalitis and then is like ‘wait the clock will look normal to me anyway. What if i email it to foreman. Nevermind he’s going to think i’m insane’ lmaoo. foreman and cameron were actually decent friends in s1 (never forget him shovel talking house and saying he considers her a friend) until articlegate, and in s3 it’s revealed he knows she has a brother (and chase didn’t!), so i’m putting foreman/cameron friendship BACK ON THE MENU. he will probably still steal her article anyway but she wouldnt be as mad about it. not that this fic is going to cover articlegate but yknow

anyway thank you for letting me be very self indulgent and yell about this fic LOL

[moddedmoor]

~ OFF-SCREEN POST ~

A good researcher knows when there’s an opportunity to further their knowledge, a great researcher knows when something is well above their level, and a researcher with a death wish wades into something way above their head. Jaycé knew this was not only a stupid idea, but one they were willing to throw caution into the wind on. Though the nerves screamed at them to turn back, they just tightly gripped the ancient looking pokeball at their hip, thumb gently rubbing over a small blue gem inlay. It did not matter to them that the pokeball was empty, instead it served as a reminder of just how stupid this plan was. 

A step forwards, a tug on a rope tightly wrapped around a large boulder, and the unwilling descent into the unknown darkness. A theory had to be proven, or even just entertained, as Jaycé rappelled themselves down into the untouched ruins of Geosenge. Beneath them in the dark, the low groan of support beams not yet collapsed echoed throughout the crater. Chills raced down their spine as they lowered themselves further and further down into the dark. Lower and lower they sank, eventually making contact with the ground and firmly planting themselves on the lowest level. A deep sigh escapes their shaking body as they quickly knelt down to the ground to calm themselves. They sat there for a bit until their nerves screamed at them to move.

In a quick motion, Jaycé stands and  flicks on the lamp hanging at their hip, illuminating the desolate ruins before them. Overhead, a loud rushing sound could be heard amongst the groaning metal and soft drip drip drop of water further off in the dark. Jaycé tugged at the rope hanging beside them before unhooking themselves and stepping out further. The lamp at their hip swayed with their steps, casting long shadows on the forgotten technology shattered before them. Jaycé knew this room well, with two broken pedestals and large industrial tubing draping the floor. A shudder ran down their spine, hand back at the ancient pokeball nervously. 

Further steps, echoing loudly. The only sound this place hasn’t heard in years. A soft crunch echoed in the dark, looking down, the plastic of a keyboard key shattered underneath Jaycé’s boots. More walking and soon before them, a doorway stood, the heavy metal door just barely ajar as they squeezed through into a control-room of sorts. Large panels of knobs and buttons scattered the floor, with some consoles crushed under large chunks of concrete and quickly rusting steel beams. Further along in the room, there’s a raised platform, a single console barely intact, with a small framed photo resting face down on the surface. Jaycé inhales sharply as they get closer, hand shaking slightly as they reach a gloved hand towards the frame. The broken glass from the frame falls to the floor with a soft clink. The photo, albeit folded and damaged from water around the edges, shows an absol wearing a pair of Flare uniform sunglasses. A small whimper escapes Jaycé’s lips as they hold the photo, hands now trembling. 

“Oh, Gelato. Did he have to turn you away?” Their words echo through the emptiness. They sigh and carefully pluck the photo out of the crumbling frame, tucking it away into a small pocket on their bag. Their curiosity gets the better of them as they push a chair away from the desk and kneel down to sort through the drawers. The bottom one is heavy and filled with water and molding paperwork, Jaycé holds their breath as they quickly close it. The second one is drier, but full of nothing interesting. The third, uppermost one, is mostly full of silly personal items. Jaycé bites their lower lip as they carefully sort through everything. Pulling out a few items to tuck away, until they freeze, hand hovering over a small familiar box. They shake their head and look away as they reach down and carefully pull the box out of the drawer. With a shaky breath, they look over at the item in hand. It’s a set of dice, a deep maroon color with black numbering and small white sakura blossoms with branches etched into the metal. Their thumb loosely wipes at the clear plastic encasing them, a deep sadness overwhelming them, before quietly tucking the box away.

They don’t linger any longer after unearthing the dice, instead they exit the room and dart around for any space with exposed earth. They came here for one reason, and by dist, were they going to quickly do it. It takes a while, with the light from above just barely reaching the depths, and the light at their hip only going so far. Eventually, they do stumble upon a wall with large claw marks, exposing the earth to them. Immediately they take note of this and the scattered and shattered stones on the ground below. All of them have an eerie red tint to them that shines in the dim light. They swallow nervously, throat suddenly dry as they reach out to touch the soft earth. It crumbles beneath their touch, almost dissolving, causing them to jerk their hand back in shock. They shake their head to dissipate the anxious thoughts swelling inside, then carefully unclip the light from their hip to hold it up to the earth. There’s no moisture in the exposed earth, so any glimmer shows proof of stones. 

“Oh thank dist, this wasn’t for nothing,” They sigh, interrupting the eerie ambiance of the emptiness around them. They clip the light back at their hip and carefully brush away the dirt surrounding the stones. They all have an aggressive red tint to them, with the ones closer to the surface having large cracks running along their surface. Horror sweeps over Jaycé, causing them to accidentally drop a cracked stone. They watch as it shatters on the ground, small sparks of red bursting out. They stand there, frozen as a realization overtakes them. Their body trembles as they manage to take a step back. They glance at the two tiny stones as they sit in their palm. Carefully, they bring their other hand over to cup the two, then gently shake their hands, causing the two stones to clink together. Small sparks and cracks erupt from the stones, with a spark shooting out towards their exposed arm. When it lands, it stings, causing them to jerk their hand back, dropping the stones again into a shattered mess of sparks. 

They shakily exhale, bringing them back into the moment at hand. They take a small mental note and go back to digging around for stones. Deeper into the earth is where they find stones more akin to the standard marble size. They have a lesser red tint to them and don’t spark when jostled about. They sigh in relief and pocket the stones. They work quickly, pulling only one small handful of “stable” stones. They have carefully inlaid the “unstable” stones back into the dirt and debate about bringing a few back. It’s risky, but they pocket a few, keeping them separate from each other and the usable stones. They look at the rest inlaid in the dirt and shiver, before grabbing them all and tossing them out into the depths. These stones should not be found, should not be mentioned, and should stay buried under the cold and unforgiving ruins of Geosenge. They watch the sparks illuminate the further darkness and stand there until an awful, whooshing groan echoes above. They’ve had enough of this place, the adrenaline now running thin, as they start towards the rope. They come across it again and quickly work to secure themselves and pull themself up. It’s a lot harder to ascend than descend, occasionally having to pause and catch their breath. They eventually reach a point where they can reach a flat surface to steady themselves on and make quicker work ascending. By the time they are above the ruins, their arms shake and go numb as they collapse onto the ground below. The world spins as they catch their breath, all fear and adrenaline gone as their body struggles to function. 

But still they persist. They pull themselves up slowly, trembling violently, and untie the rope securing them. From there they begin the trek towards the fence blocking off the ruins to the world. It’s a long trek to the fence, the sun now high in the sky by the time they arrive. They worm themselves out by crawling through a hole in the fence and stagger to their car. They climb in and sit at the wheel, barely alive as they slump and try to collect themself. 

“Fuck.” Is all they can whine as they gently bonk their head on the wheel. “Fuck.”

[thunderbunny24]

Second Chance at Love

I have to give credit to Billie Eilish for her song Ocean Eyes. I stole it for my OC. I also finally got the title of the whole story into the story.

Part 8

            It had felt like weeks since you had seen Matthew yet it was only 5 days.  You both had texted everyday and talked every night but your schedules made it impossible for you to get a babysitter and have a date.  You had decided to throw caution to the wind and invited him over for dinner with you and Violet for Thursday at 6pm.  He had agreed and promised to keep everything PG while Violet was awake.

            Violet was so excited about Matthew coming over that she decided to do her homework in the kitchen so she could listen for him and open the front door to see him first.  There was still about 30 minutes before he was supposed to get there so you went to your music room and worked.

            At 5:34pm there was a knock at your front door.  Violet jumped up and ran to the door.  She threw it open and squealed.  “Mr. Matt!”  She basically jumped into his arms.

            He laughed as he carried her in and shut the door.  “It’s good to see you again Miss Violet.”  He set her down.  “Where is your mom?”

            Violet pointed.  “She’s in her music room.  She tends to get a little extra inspired when she has writing times and studio times in the same week.  I can take you to her.”  She stuck her hand out and Matthew took it and followed the 8-year-old.  As they got closer to a room with the door shut and piano music coming from behind the door, Violet spoke softly.  “I’m not supposed to bother Mommy unless it’s an emergency.”

            Matthew nodded.  “Why don’t you go back and I’ll be the one who gets in trouble for bugging her.”  Violet nodded and skipped back down the hall.  He stood at the door listening to your voice singing along with the piano but didn’t recognize the song.

            You stopped and scribbled out a line on the piece of paper in front of you to rewrite it better.  You looked at the clock on your phone and thought, “He’ll be here soon.  One last time.”  You started playing the piano again.

I've been watching you for some time Can't stop staring at those ocean eyes Burning cities and napalm skies Fifteen flares inside those ocean eyes Your ocean eyes

No fair You really know how to make me cry When you give me those ocean eyes I'm scared I've never fallen from quite this high Falling into your ocean eyes Those ocean eyes

            Matthew thought to himself, “Is that about me?  She said the other night my eyes were ocean blue.”  His cheeks flushed.  He took a deep breath and knocked on the door.  He heard the piano stool scoot back.  You opened the door and were shocked to see Matthew standing there.  Before you could even say anything, he pulled you into a big hug and kissed the top of your head.  “I’m early.”

            You smiled into his chest.  “You are.  How long have you been out here?”

            He released his hold so he could look into your eyes.  “Just a moment.  Violet told me you were in here.”  He leaned down and gave you a quick peck on the lips.

            You glanced over your shoulder to the piano then back at Matthew.  “Did you hear what I was working on?”  He nodded.  You turned bright red.  “It’s not done yet.  I just started working on it today.”

            Matthew leaned down and kissed your forehead.  “It sounded beautiful.  I look forward to hearing it completed one day.”

            You looked down at your feet and quietly said, “You have got to quit being early.”  You laughed then started walking towards the kitchen, Matthew a step behind you.  “I need to finish up dinner but it won’t take long if you want to hang out in the kitchen while I work.”

            “Violet seems to have already taken up residence in the kitchen so I’m glad to join in.  Is there anything I can help with?”  Matthew took a seat at the bar next to Violet when you pulled out a cutting board.

            Violet answered for you.  “Mommy is making her chicken enchiladas.  She’s a pro at them.  You just need to watch and enjoy.”  You laughed and rolled your eyes at your daughter.  “They are so good.  I wish Mommy would make them every week.  I even take them for lunch the next day and eat them cold.  You are going to be hooked.”

            “Violet!”  You lightly chastised your child.  “It’s just enchiladas.  Don’t build it up too much.”  You continued to chop up the chicken you had cooked earlier in the day.  “Are you almost done with your homework?”

            Violet nodded.  “Yes ma’am.  I just need to put it in my folder.”

            You took all the chicken you had cut up and placed it in a bowl.  “Why don’t you put it up then do all the stuff you need to get ready for school tomorrow?  Dinner will be ready in about 20 minutes.”  Violet reluctantly followed your instructions.  “Sorry if she is being a bit extra.  She is just really excited you are here.”

            Matthew shook his head as he watched you put more ingredients into the bowl.  “She is adorable.  I remember when my kids were that young and I would have friends over.”  Matthew laughed.  “Heck, I expect Addison to be like that when I have you over.”

            “I’m sorry I wasn’t able to get anything together for earlier this week.  I don’t like Violet staying anywhere but home during the school week and her main sitter is in college and had a big test and two papers due this week.”  You started making the enchiladas.  “I do have her on standby for Saturday, if you are interested in getting together.”  You paused for a moment to look at Matthew to gauge his reaction.  “I’m not trying to force anything on you though.”

            “No, no.  I love it!”  Matthew smiled from ear to ear.  “Maybe you could come to my place and I can cook for you.  Maybe even have a bit of a sleepover.”  Matthew sounded so energetic and the idea made you blush.

            “Sounds like a plan.”  You popped the enchiladas in the oven and set the timer.

            “What sounds like a plan?”  Violet hopped back onto the stool at the bar she was sitting at earlier.

            You walked over and leaned on the counter.  “How would you like to have Caitlin babysit you again on Saturday after your playdate with Anna?”  Violet wiggled in her seat in excitement.  “You may know her, Matthew.  Caitlin is Breckin Meyers’s daughter.”

            Matthew laughed.  “I do.  He and I ran in the same circles in the 90s and early 2000s plus he did a stent on Good Girls.”

            You nod.  “I’ve just started watching Good Girls.  I’m only in the middle of season one.”

            Matthew raised an eyebrow.  “You’re watching my show?”

            You wink at him.  “Violet, why don’t you go set the table?”  You walked around the bar as Matthew rotated his stool so that your body was between his legs.  You leaned into Matthew’s ear.  “That scene in the first episode in your office was pretty hot.”  You ran your hands up his denim covered legs.

            Matthew put his hands on your hips and whispered into your ear.  “You can sit on my desk anytime you want and I will do way worse to you.”  He bit your earlobe making you let out a soft moan as you pressed your body closer to his.

            “Mommy, can you do drinks?”  Violet asked.

            You let out a sign and nod as you step back from Matthew.  “Yes ma’am I can.”  You gave Matthew a seductive look.  “We have water, sweet tea, some soft drinks and some adult beverages.  What would you like, sir?”

            “I want tea.”  Violet answered.

            Matthew looked at you and licked his lips.  “I’ll just take some water.”  He got up from the bar and walked into the kitchen to help.

            The three of you ate dinner together in the dining room, each chatting about your day and what you had going on the next day, with Matthew sitting at the head of the table.  After dinner Matthew helped you clean up the kitchen while Violet took her shower, then you all went to the living room and sat on the couch to watch a movie.  Violet used your lap as a pillow while Matthew played with your hair.  By the time the movie was over, you had fallen asleep on Matthew’s shoulder.  Violet whispered to him that she could put herself to bed and for him to stay still and let you sleep.  He shook his head and gently replaced his shoulder with a couch pillow and helped get Violet to bed.  After she was all tucked in, Matthew opened doors upstairs until he found which room he believed to be your bedroom then walked down the stairs to the living room to get you.  You hadn’t moved at all.  He scooped you up and brought you into the bedroom, placing you on the bed and covering you up with a blanket he saw on a chair in the room.

            Matthew leaned down to give you a kiss on the forehead goodbye when you reached out and grabbed the hem of his shirt.  “Please don’t leave.” You sleepily said.  Matthew smiled then kicked off his shoes and went to sit on the other side of your bed.  You rolled over and grabbed his leg like it was your teddy bear.  It was obvious you were asleep but he decided to stay until you rolled over and let go of his leg.  Until then, he sat scrolling through his phone, playing with your hair and listening to you snore like a grown man.

            “You are the one.”  Matthew said, barely audible.  “You are my second chance at love.  My second chance at a complete family.  My second soulmate.”  Tears came to his eyes as he looked down at you and imagined your lives together.  “You may be my second but I will love you so hard, like you are my first.”

**********          **********          **********

            Violet opened your bedroom door and was surprised to see both you and Matthew on the bed asleep.  She walked over to your side and lightly nudged you.  “Mommy, it’s 6 o’clock.  Time to wake up.”  You made a grumbling noise.  Violet nudged you again.  “Mommy, you need to wake up and get ready.”  You grumbled again but opened your eyes and saw your daughter standing just a few inches from your face.  “Good morning Mommy!  Do you want me to wake up Mr. Matt too?”

            You scrunched your eyebrows.  “Mr. Matt?”

            “Yeah.”  Violet pointed.  “He’s asleep too.”

            “What…Matt…What?”  Violet pointed at the arm around your waist.  “Shit!  No sweetheart.  I’ve got it.  You go get ready for school.”  Violet nodded and bounced out of your room.  You finally registered the weight of the arm around your waist and the leg laying over your legs.  You tried to slip out of the bed but there was no moving Matthew’s body.  You decided to start nudging his arm.  “Matthew…Matt.”

            He buried his face in your hair and sleepily said, “I like when you call me Matt.”

            You smiled and nudged him again.  “Matt, you need to wake up.”  He shook his head and pulled you closer to him.  You could feel his morning erection pressing against your butt.  “Matt, sweetheart, you have to get up because I have to get Violet to school.”  You hear him grumble then remove his arm and leg to stretch behind you, making him feel even taller than he already was.  “Good morning sleepyhead.”

            Matt sat up and smiled at you.  “Good morning to you.”  He started looking around for his glasses.  “I didn’t mean to stay here last night but you had a death grip on my leg.”  He leaned in to kiss you but you pulled back and covered your mouth.  Matt grabbed your wrists and pulled them down.  “I have morning breath too.  Come here.”  You gave in and leaned in for a kiss.

            “I don’t remember coming up here.  Last thing I remember was Ariel getting her human legs from Mellisa McCarthy.”  You got off the bed and started walking to your bathroom.  Matt followed.

            “You passed out and when the movie was over, I put you both to bed.”  Matt walked up behind you, wrapping his arms around you and making eye contact with your reflection.  “That was the best sleep I’ve had in years.”

            You smiled and nodded.  “Me too and without my CPAP.”

            Matt laughed.  “Yeah, you needed that.  You snore like a man.”  You blushed.  Matt kissed the top of your head.  “I could listen to it all night, though.  Hell, I did listen to it all night.”  You turned around and smacked him in the chest.  “Hey now!”  He laughed.  “I don’t want to do this but I better leave so you can do what you need to get Violet ready for school.  I’ll text you later.”  You pouted but gave him a hug and walked him down to the front door.

            “Matth…Matt, thank you for last night.  It kind of felt like what having a family should feel like.”

            Matt gave you a huge hug.  “I would love to always feel like a family with you.”  He leaned down to give you a quick kiss.  “I’ll text you, okay.”  You nod.  “Goodbye sweetheart.”

            You stood at the door and watched him walk to his car, waving when he made eye contact with you.  Once he started to drive off, you went inside to start getting ready for the day.

[changingplumbob]

New Goth Household: Chapter 2, Part 6

Part of what I love about rotational play is my sims being able to visit family that I'm not having to control. Keira is close with her family, Joey's sister Devin is one of his best friends and with Alexander's parents gone he has to make new family. Since I couldn't keep to my normal limit I decided to throw caution to the wind and let families catch up.

Keira: How was your shift

Marta: People always need coffee, how was class

Keira: So so. Are you ready for a challenge

Marta: What kind of challenge

Keira: Mum text me to come visit and I thought you might like to come

Marta: To meet your parents

Keira: Parents, siblings, sister-in-law

Marta: Why not

Sulani, the place where autumn and winter are relative.

Keira: Anyone home? I brought cookies

Carson: Cookies?

Reece: They smell good

Kayleigh: Are you going to introduce us to this wonderful lady you've brought with you

Marta: Gracias

Keira: Right well... Mum, dad, everyone... This is Marta, my girlfriend

Kayleigh: How long have you been seeing each other

Keira: I wasn't keeping her secret or anything, I've just been busy with university

Kayleigh: Remember, university is not the most important thing you can do in life

Keira: I know mum, I know

Marta: I asked her to be my girlfriend recently

Harvey: A woman who takes the initiative, we can always use more of those

Keira: But we actually met back when I started university, or close to that

Marta: Just before your first exams

Keira: So it's not as if we've just met

Reece: Why would we care if you just met

Keira: We're actually living together

Charlie: No kidding. Congratulations Marta, you landed a good one with my sister

Reece: Some sims have all the luck

Marta: You would not want a girl though, no

Reece: Not in a million years, gay as a maypole here

Marta: What is a maypole

Reece: I actually have no idea

Charlie: Some genius you are

Marta: I am lucky, Keira is romantic

Carson: Gross

Harvey: One day you may not think romance is gross

Carson: Never

Kaori: So what keeps you busy Marta

Marta: I'm a barista

Kaori: Serving coffee all day? Sounds like tough work. Customers can be such a pain

Reece: Plus memorising all those orders

Marta: You're not disappointed in my job

Kaori: I don't even have a job so you're already ahead of me

Harvey: We tried to teach our kids that there are many options in life

Kayleigh: University is just one path, not everybody travels it

Harvey: Finding things that make you happy, that's important

Charlie: How about your parents

Marta: They have both passed to the forever save

Kayleigh: You're so young for that loss, I'm sorry

Harvey: Please visit whenever you need substitute parent hugs or advice

Marta: Gracias

Keira is delighted at how well things go, no one hates the cookies either.

Before long however the sun is setting and it's time to head back home.

Harvey: Good to see you kiddo

Keira: And you dad

Harvey: That Marta is a keeper

Keira: She's pretty great

Harvey: Just remember you're only 21, it's fine to take your time with things

Keira: I know dad, I love you loads

Keira: I don't think that could have gone better

Marta: Si. Your family is so friendly

Keira: We're all very close. Thank you for coming with me

Marta: Sulani reminds me of the beaches back in Cuba

Keira: Really

Marta: We weren't there long but I have good memories. Now I get to make more with you

Joey has been working hard on his mobile app so his sister Devin wanted to treat him to dinner. Joey is also creeped out at Caleb vampire running to the table. Come on dude, humans cannot keep up. Joining them is Devin's wife Luna and both of Joey's parents, Calista and Aaron.

Aaron: Most of this looks pretty adventurous

Joey: Watcher can't be bothered sorting out another in game restaurant right now

Calista: Sure son

Luna: OMW they have pasta

Devin: Lu I make you pasta all the time

Luna: But this one comes with a boatload of sauce

Calista: You are eating for three

Devin: Hi, could I please have a simsmapolitan. Just water for my wife, she's pregnant

Luna: Like she couldn't tell from looking at me

Devin: And I'm paying for everyone so we'll just need the one cheque at the end

Joey: Are you sure?

Devin: You may dream of being a tech guru but you're not there yet

Joey: Any updates on the Goth case pa

Aaron: I really should keep that between me and my clients

Joey: You know whatever you tell Alexander he's just going to tell me anyway

Devin: He's right

Aaron: We got the footage of Milton walking unattended up the drive to the courts, but a judge has to review

Joey: Do you think they'll be able to get Milton back

Aaron: I think so, the finances will take longer

Joey: Sis did you hear Dina called Alexander a golddigger

Devin: OMW she did not! What a hypocrite

Joey: Right! She's so ridiculous

Devin: What about Alexander's half siblings

Joey: Yeah, they exist

Devin: But will- Oh! Our food

Aaron: How do you suppose I'm meant to eat this

Joey: With your mouth

Aaron: Well thank you Joey

Luna: I cannot wait to dig into this

Callista: It looks nice but Yorks do pasta best

Luna: I'll let you know when I'm finished

Callista: Fill up those bambinos

Luna: Yes Ma'am

Devin: Seriously, they're Alexanders half siblings though, he must have some opinion

Joey: He's pretty focused on Milton

Calista: They tie Dina into his family forever

Luna: Calling the boy after his dead father, ghoulish

Devin: Seems nice to me

Luna: Because you're a cheerful sim schatz

Luna: Eve is a nice enough name for the girl but- oh dear

Devin: You okay Lu

Luna: Just some nausea it'll pass

Calista: I told you, those bambinos prefer York pasta

Aaron: Italians do it better

Joey: I've been told that

Calista: *laughs*

Aaron: Watcher save us from bro humour

Joey: Sorry pa, I'll keep my manners

Devin: This food really isn't too bad

Joey: I'm guessing you don't have the refined palate quirk yet

Devin: Wait- no I do

Joey: So how can you eat normal quality food without being sick

Devin: You should see some of what is on offer on set, the vegetables barely remember they're vegetables

Joey: Glamour of acting

Devin: I'm not sure how much time I'll get on set when the boys arrive though, I want to support Luna

Luna: Aww *blows kiss*

Devin: *grins*

Aaron: Remember if you need help we're just a phone call away

Joey: And me. I'm almost finished my degree so I can lend a hand

Luna: You're welcome anytime Joey

Joey: I'll be the cool uncle

Devin: Seriously though. When you've finished studying, if you need a place we have a spare room

Joey: You sure

Luna: We know how hard it is to establish yourself in Del Sol Valley

Devin: If you want to move in, just ask

The meal ends and goodbyes begin.

Joey: Bye you two, don't beat each other up too much in there

Calista: Luna seems to be coping well

Devin: I know she feels like a beached whale

Calista: Your bambinos will be here before you know it

Devin: I'm still worried about juggling twins

Calista: Remember help is a phone call away

James: Shall I compare thee to a summers day? Thou art more lovely and more temperate

Alexander: Aw sweets. You don't have to read me poetry to impress me

James: I know love but it makes you smile, and I love to see you smile

Alexander: I can't believe the wedding is tomorrow, it feels like-

Alexander: -we've been waiting forever

James: I know I've waited my whole life for you

Alexander: Aww sweets-

James: I mean it. You're the high point of my life

Alexander: Promise you'll stick around

James: I'll dodge the reaper as long as I can love

Alexander: Until then, be with me

James: Every night

Previous Part ... Next Part

[hapigairu]

It's astounding to me how cherry-blossom-inferno runs around trying to bash Dimitri to blatant Dimitri fans while warping literally all scenes involving him. There was one where they said he was JEALOUS of Edelgard's reforms, which was a negative twisting of his words that bathes their beloved Edelgard in a positive beaming light... when all he said was he can admire the changes the Empire was going through because of how rapidly they could accept the change (in comparison to Faerghus that struggles more to adapt very quickly, but stability BaD so we need chaotic war, rapid and forced change only, GooD). He never said he was jealous and no other character did, but they intentionally put an Edelgard-positive spin on it by using a more negative word than the ACTUAL word Dimitri used.

Now the narrative "kinda humiliates" him? Actually no, the game has to find a way to follow its own mechanics depending on whether or not you used a certain battle strategy. Every single time they randomly attack a Dimitri fan (for absolutely no reason, mind you, seeing as they clearly do not like him. But then, I guess that IS the reason. They just want to hunt down every Dimitri fan they can find and Teach Them A Lesson In Edelgard Bias), they twist everything possible to paint Dimitri in a bad light. I guess they just really feel better puffing their chest by saying "Dimitri BaD and I can't prove that unless I twist words in the actual games to make him actually SOUND BaD!".

This person literally just exists for the sole purpose of harassing Dimitri fans and without the ability to do so would just dry up and die.

I mean, I totally get your frustration towards this kind of behaviour. As far as I understand, Edelstans have been twisting Dimitri's (and anyone who isn't head over heels over their waifu) words to put him in the worst of light for years now… In a way, I'm glad I haven't been active in the fandom until recently, because at least I was able to play the games without anyone souring my opinion on them with their wild takes and toxic behaviour.

And the idea that Dimitri is BaD because he doesn't want to implement rapid reforms will never fail to annoy me.

I'll go off on a tangent here (ish), but bear with me: Around 10,000 BCE, humans started to experiment with farming and agriculture in certain parts of the world first. Which ones? Well, where food was aplenty, meaning that if this farming/agriculture experiment were to fail, they could still hunt or gather food around. Of course, it didn't occur in the span of a few years, but it was still a radical change. And it wouldn't have been possible in places where food was more scarce. And Faerghus faces a somewhat similar problem in that they can't afford to take too many risks like the Empire can. The country is constantly at risk of famine, civil war, the works. If Dimitri makes a mistake, it's over for him (as shown with what happened to his father) and for too many of his subjects.

So of course he has to take a slow but safe approach. Do the Edelstans want him to throw caution to the wind and implement reforms that are not the priority for the people of Faerghus? (Well… if the Kingdom ends up in disarray, it'll be easy picking for the Empire who would then civilise these barbarians /s)

And it's not like we haven't a myriad of real-life examples of how hasty "revolutions" and annexations of countries were utter failures (mind you, I count impoverished and still not independent territories as failures as well, like Puerto Rico or French Guiana).

As for the narrative humiliating him… lol. Wow, Faerghus (a country with meagre resources to begin with) is struggling against the Alliance on the Eastern front after being spread thin due to being invaded from the West by the Empire and the North by Sreng, who would've thunk? And what does it say about Edelgard's army who got yeeted off Leicester in the span of a few battles in Part I and who can't seize Arianrhod because a Crestless general is too competent for her many canon fodders? Not to mention the Alliance was about to win the Gronder field battle until Almyra forced them to retreat. And Dimitri (Sylvain too ofc) caught Claude off guard several times, compelling him to find a way out through brute force. But Dimwitri dumb, Clod clever. Sure.

But that's kind of a problem with these games; there are too few setbacks so it always feels like your army is able to coast through battles with remarkable ease regardless of the route you've chosen.

Now, I've barely (if at all, really) interacted with cherry-blossom-inferno, so I don't know how often they waste their time reading posts about characters they clearly dislike.

But to play the devil's advocate a bit (because, as much as I find their reasoning bonkers, it'd be unfair of me to diss them after reading like… a handful of posts/comments from them without giving them the benefit of the doubt. Hey, look at me pulling a Dimitri "Enlightened Centrist" Alexandre Blaiddyd); maybe they're trying to have a discussion/ (not unhealthy) debate, but they have trouble conveying it? Like, I find it hard to express myself and can come across as blunt or rude sometimes, which is unfortunate for all parties involved. And at least (I know the bar is reaaaaaally low), they don't harass people off social media like a certain toxic pistachio as far as I'm aware? Please do correct me if I'm wrong though! Even as a complete outsider, I'm still angry for the people who got harassed, insulted, etc. by this guy who should know better.

Still, it's fair to be annoyed at cherry-blossom-inferno for butting in discussion just to pull some kind of Akshually.

Ultimately, it's sad that these people can't find better things to do than… this. If I spent half as much time "debating" like they do, I wouldn't have started to learn the flute or read this many books. The world sucks enough as it is, so why waste your time trying to make people feel bad about themselves for having certain tastes instead of doing literally anything else? Write, read, draw, run, make people laugh, play music, sing, help a charity, watch movies, play games, learn a new language… anything!

I really hope one day they'll realise how awful they can be and that they'll try to do better. Starting with apologising to all the people they hurt.