#the body has never smoked a day in our lives

[traumavevo]

im really glad that matt went dormant actually bc his craving for nicotine and dreams about smoking weren't great tbh

[imjustreadinglmao]

BLUE PART II

Paring: Azriel x reader, Lucien x platonic!reader

Series summary: After Azriel and Elain‘s courtship is revealed, their mates, Lucien and Y/N, are left to deal with the consequences. While fighting against Koschei and for Prythian‘s freedom, Y/N has to navigate her emotions and learn how to live with the heartbreak of a one sided mating bond. But what happens when secrets are revealed and everything turns out differently than they thought?

Warnings: unrequited love, death, detailed descriptions of fights and blood, angst, characters being idiots

A/N: my last azrielxreader post won’t appear in the tags so reblogs are very much appreciated.

Word count: 3.3k

It’s a beautiful, crisp spring morning. The sun is shining, birds are singing, and the wind carries the lovely scent of freshly baked pies. I sigh at the prospect of leaving this peaceful place and trading it for the Autumn Court.

As I push the heavy oak doors of the River House open, I can feel anxiety coursing through my veins. After fleeing Autumn seventy-three years ago, I didn’t expect to return there so soon, even if only temporarily. It was difficult for me to leave. I couldn’t risk telling anyone about my plans, so I never had the chance to say goodbye.

Knowing my father, he had probably been more concerned about how me leaving would affect his standing with the High Lord and the other noble families. But my mother and sister… I would give a lot to see them again.

All those years, I have missed the familiarity of my home court, the traditions, and the celebrations I cherished so much as a child.

I take a deep breath, trying to steady myself as I step into the foyer. Rhysand, Amren, Azriel, and Lucien are already there, waiting for me.

Except for Lucien and me, who are wearing traditional Autumn Court attire, everyone else is dressed in midnight black.

Lucien looks up as I enter, a small smile playing at the corner of his lips. “You look… convincing,” he says.

I let out a breathy laugh at that. The last time he saw me in Autumn colors was at a ball my family hosted, which ended with me puking my guts out, most of it landing on Lucien’s shoes.

Judging by the face he is making, he hasn’t forgotten either.

Azriel, standing beside him, nods in agreement. “It suits you,” he says quietly, his gaze lingering on me for a moment longer than necessary.

His shadows peek over his shoulder as if they want to take a look too.

I try to ignore the flutter of emotions his words stir within me. Instead, I focus on the mission ahead, on the role I must play. The safety of Prythian depends on our success, and I can’t afford to let myself get distracted.

Rhysand steps forward, a mischievous smile on his face. “I have to say, you both pull off Autumn Court fashion far better than I expected. Maybe we should visit the Autumn Court more often.”

Amren, her eyes assessing our disguises, retorts, “If you spent as much time on strategy as you do on fashion critiques, we’d have won the war by now.”

I have to cover my mouth to not laugh out loud and accidentally anger the century-old creature that’s lurking beneath that Fae body.

Rhys just rolls his eyes, clearly undeterred by her sharp tone. “I’ll have you know that looking good is part of the strategy.”

With one last look at me, he stretches out his hand and asks, “Ready?”

I nod, take his hand, and let him winnow me away.

———————————————————

Arriving at the southern border of the Autumn Court, I am immediately struck by the beauty of the landscape. The trees here are taller than I remember, their leaves a riot of red, orange, and gold, perpetually caught in the peak of autumn. The air carries the earthy scent of fallen leaves and the smoke of distant fires burning in hearths.

As we step onto the moss-covered ground, bittersweet memories flood my mind. I find myself thinking of the simpler days of my youth, the carefree ones.

I feel dark talons gently scraping at the shields in my mind and lwt Rhys in. So lost in the beautiful nature, I barely realize him wishing us good luck and winnowing back to Velaris.

Right after Rhys leaves, Azriel begins to scout the area for any magical traps or shields set by Koschei, leaving us to wait for his return. As the minutes stretch into an hour, my anxiety starts to build.

I pace restlessly, my mind conjuring all sorts of terrible scenarios.

Lucien tries to reassure me, placing a hand on my shoulder.

“He’ll be fine,” Lucien says softly. “Azriel knows what he’s doing.”

But his words do little to calm me.

“How can you be so sure? He could be injured… or worse. We don’t know what Koschei is capable of!” I snap.

I begin to ramble, listing every possible way Azriel could have gotten hurt. “What if he’s caught in a trap? What if there’s a magical barrier he can’t break?”

Just thinking about him being in trouble makes me want to vomit. “That’s it. He’s taken long enough. I’m going to find him and—”

Amren steps in, her voice cutting through my panic. “Enough. Get your shit together. We don’t have time for this.”

Her bluntness shocks me into silence, and I sulk, feeling chastised.

But Amren isn’t finished. “Oh, quit acting like a child. Maybe if you told him about your feelings and the mating bond, you wouldn’t be so anxious, girl.”

My mouth drops open and I look to Lucien, his face also morphed into shock. When I look back to Amren, she just lifts an eyebrow.

“How do you know about the bond?”

Amren lets out a long sigh. “Only someone stupid wouldn’t have picked up on that. And Azriel being the stupidest of all.”

She rolls her eyes and starts picking at her nails. “We all suspected it. For a while we thought it snapped for Azriel too. The way he followed you around like a love sick fool, we were sure of it. But I guess it didn’t.”

I don’t say anything else after that, my mind not coming up with a response.

——————————————————

Another hour passes, and my worry only deepens. I can’t stop imagining Azriel injured or trapped, his shadows unable to find a way back to us. Every rustle of the leaves makes me jump, hoping it’s him returning.

Lucien tries to keep me distracted, but my thoughts are a whirl of dread. He tells me stories of his own missions, but I can’t focus on his words. My mind is entirely on Azriel.

Finally, just as the sun reaches its peak, Azriel returns. He looks slightly worse for wear, his clothes torn in some places and his face smeared with dirt, but otherwise unharmed. He notices the tension immediately, his eyes narrowing in concern.

“What happened?” Azriel asks, looking between us.

I step toward him, my relief overwhelming. “Are you okay? What took you so long?”

Azriel nods, his expression serious. “There were more traps than I anticipated. It took a while to disable them all, but the path should be clear now.”

Amren crosses her arms. “Good. We don’t have time for any more delays.”

Lucien places a hand on my shoulder again, this time with a reassuring squeeze. “See? I told you he’d be fine.”

I manage a weak smile, still shaken by the fear that gripped me. Azriel’s eyes soften as he looks at me.

“We should move quickly,” Azriel says, breaking the moment. “It won’t be long till they notice that their shields and traps were destroyed. Amren and I will accompany you to the Forrest House, then we’ll separate and follow the original plan. It’s too dangerous otherwise. We can’t risk you.”

Lucien nods and gestures for me to go first. “Let’s get moving then. The sooner we’re done here, the better.”

We begin to move deeper into the forest, leading to Beron’s residence. The beauty of the surroundings contrasts sharply with the danger I know lurks nearby.

As we walk, I steal glances at Azriel, wondering how he can be so calm and collected all the time.

Gods, I nearly lost my mind over him doing his job. I am a hypocrite for snapping at him the other day. Yes, I am mad at him for courting Elain, but I also can’t expect him to be loyal to me when he doesn’t even know that we’re mates.

How different things would be if it had just snapped for him the second it did for me...

It happened three years ago. Unbeknownst to us, we were just celebrating the last winter solstice without Rhys when it snapped into place.

One moment I was admiring him from afar, the next I was connected to him for the rest of my immortal life.

He had still been in love with Mor back then, so I chose not to say anything. A huge mistake, because soon after, Elain came into the picture.

Truthfully, I never thought they were anything more than friends until I overheard Rhysand ordering Azriel to stay away from her. It wasn’t until then that I realized I had lost him forever. He wasn’t going to stay away from her, so I accepted my fate and kept silent.

———————————————————

After five hours of hiking through bushes, stepping in rabbit holes, and nearly getting killed by a boar, I can feel the exhaustion creeping into my bones.

“Can we please take a break? My legs are going to fall off,” I ask.

Amren smirks, not breaking her stride. “And here I thought you were tougher than this.”

Only Rhysand’s plea to behave and work together holds me back from strangling her. Gods, she really is a cranky hag.

Lucien chuckles softly and turns to me. “We’re only a few minutes away. Hang in there.”

I groan but press on. As we finally crest a hill, the sight of Beron’s castle comes into view, exactly as I remembered it. The imposing structure looms against the deep orange sky, its dark stone walls lined with creeping ivy. Tall, narrow windows glint in the dawning light.

“It’s just like I remember,” I whisper, a mixture of awe and dread washing over me.

Lucien glances at me, his expression unreadable. “Let’s get ready. We need to find a way to get in there.” He points to the entrance of the castle, where nobles are lined up to enter the masquerade ball hosted by the High Lord himself.

We slip through the dense forest that surrounds the castle, our movements silent and precise. Azriel scouts ahead, his shadows cloaking him in near invisibility. After what feels like an eternity, we find a secluded spot to prepare for our infiltration.

“Here,” Amren hands both Lucien and me a stack of clothes. “These are your disguises. You will pose as Lord and Lady Hawthorn. The late Lord Hawthorn died three months ago. You are recently married with no offspring or heir yet. This is your first outing as Lord and Lady. Some might recognize your name, though they should not look twice your way. Be discreet and don’t draw attention.”

“What about the real Lord and Lady Hawthorn? What if they decide to turn up and out us as imposters?” I ask.

Azriel shifts on his feet and answers a bit sheepishly, “Don’t worry, they have already been dealt with.”

My brows furrow in confusion. “What do you—” realization dawns over me. “Oh… oh, okay. I guess that makes this a lot easier.”

I grab the clothes Amren gave me and head for the nearest bush to change. When I look back, Azriel has his head tilted sideways and smiles at me.

The dress I change into is a deep burgundy, adorned with delicate golden embroidery.

The fabric is soft and luxurious and fits me like a second skin. The mask is made of similar fabric, with intricate golden lace around the edge of it.

As I step out from behind the bush, my eyes find Azriel’s immediately.

His eyes, usually so guarded, widen slightly as they take in my appearance, his gaze lingering on the details of my dress and the way it clings to my form.

“You look… stunning,” he murmurs, his voice low and sincere.

I feel a blush rise to my cheeks and look away, focusing on Lucien. Lucien is similarly attired, his outfit complementing mine with its dark tones and subtle elegance.

He grins at me. “Shall we, Lady Hawthorn?”

I bark out a laugh. “We shall, Lord Hawthorn.”

———————————————————

Getting inside the Forrest House was easier than expected. We just walked right up to the entrance, stated our names, handed them our fake invites, and were ushered in.

As we step into the grand ballroom, the sheer opulence of the scene takes my breath away.

Crystal chandeliers hang from the high ceilings, casting a warm glow over the sea of elegantly dressed nobles. Musicians play softly in one corner, their melodies mingling with the murmur of conversation and the clinking of glasses.

At the far end of the room, atop a raised dais, sits Beron, his cold gaze sweeping over the crowd. To his right stands Eris. Our eyes meet briefly, and I give a subtle nod, which he returns.

Lucien and I mingle with the guests, keeping our eyes and ears open, waiting for Eris to give us our signal.

As Beron rises from his throne, a hush falls over the grand ballroom. The guests turn their attention to him. He begins to address the crowd, his voice echoing through the vast space.

“Welcome, esteemed guests, to this celebration of our enduring legacy and power,” Beron proclaims, his tone laced with self-satisfaction.

Just as he is about to continue, the heavy doors of the ballroom burst open. A squadron of Eris’s soldiers rushes in, their armor clanking loudly. The crowd parts like a tide, murmurs of confusion and fear rippling through the room.

Beron’s confident façade falters, replaced by one of anger and panic. “What is the meaning of this?” he demands, his voice rising in pitch as he glares at the soldiers.

Eris steps forward, his demeanor calm and resolute. “Father,” he begins, his voice carrying a chilling edge, “it is time. Your reign has been marked by tyranny and cruelty, and I will no longer stand by and watch my people suffer under your rule.”

Beron’s eyes narrow, a sneer curling his lips. “You think you can overthrow me, Eris? It takes more than a few soldiers to claim this throne.”

Eris begins to smile. “Oh, I know. A noble to swear me in and an heir to secure the lineage, right? Well, here they are.” He gestures to Lucien and me.

My eyes widen as I whisper-shout in Lucien’s ear, “He cannot be serious? THIS is his plan?!”

Lucien replies, equally as quiet. “I have learned a long time ago not to question my brother’s way of handling things.”

“You are truly deluded, Eris.” Beron laughs, a harsh, mocking sound. “They won’t accept a random noble as your heir.”

Eris stands his ground, his gaze unwavering. “But they will. Take off your masks,” he says to Lucien and me.

And so we do. Nobles everywhere are gawking at us. Some eyes fixed on me, most on Lucien.

Beron steps down from the dais. “What a surprise. The lost son finally returns home.” He turns his gaze to me. “And you, you’re Lord Yarrow’s daughter, no?”

I don’t answer. Even if I wanted to, I don’t think I could. I’m rooted in place, not taking my eyes off Beron.

Beron turns to Eris again. “Well, it seems you really are full of surprises. But you’re forgetting one important thing. You would have to kilI me to claim the throne. And you’ve always been weak, Eris. You’re not strong enough, but you shall try.”

In that moment, I realize what Eris was doing. He was provoking his father into accepting his challenge, and Beron just did exactly that.

“I’ve had a long time to prepare.”

And with that, all hell breaks loose.

———————————————————

Chaos erupts as Beron and Eris clash, their swords flashing in the bright light of the ballroom. Beron's strikes are powerful, but Eris is swift and precise, his fire magic flaring up with every swing.

Lucien and I are quickly surrounded by Beron's soldiers. The nobles' screams fill the air as they flee the room in terror. I manage to grab a blade as the first soldier aims right for my neck.

My heart races as I parry another soldier's blow, my muscles straining with each clash of steel. Lucien fights beside me, his own fire magic scorching the air around us, incinerating our enemies with fiery blasts.

The ballroom is a whirlwind of chaos.

As we cut through the soldiers, our eyes are locked on the fight between Eris and Beron. We try to reach them, but more and more of Beron’s soldiers are streaming in.

Eris and his father fight with brutal intensity, their swords ringing out as they meet. Eris dodges and strikes with a precision that keeps Beron on his toes, but his experience gives him the upper hand, forcing Eris back step by step.

Just as Lucien and I are within seconds of reaching Eris and Beron, the ballroom doors burst open again. Five of Koschei's soldiers, dark magic radiating from them, storm in. They immediately begin slaughtering nobles, women, and children alike. Their dark magic tears through Eris's soldiers as if they were paper.

Lucien and I have no choice but to turn away from Eris and Beron and face Koschei’s magic wielders.

I take several hits to the gut, and a sword slices across my cheek, but I fight on, managing to take down one of the dark soldiers. Lucien, with his fire magic, kills two more, but before the third soldier is turned into ash, he drives a sword straight through Lucien’s chest.

Lucien collapses to his knees, blood pouring from the wound. I rush to his side, my heart pounding in my chest. Lucien's eyes flutter, and he tries to speak, but I stop him. "Save your energy," I beg.

He begins to close his eyes, the loss of blood making him weaker and weaker. "Lucien, stay with me!" I cry, trying to stem the flow of blood with my hands.

I have to get him to a healer fast; otherwise, he will bleed out. So I do the only thing I can think of.

Desperate, I tug on the bond with Azriel, praying that he will sense my distress.

A moment later, Azriel bursts into the room, Amren in tow. Azriel’s eyes widen with panic as he spots me and Lucien. He rushes to us, dropping to his knees beside Lucien.

"Azriel, you have to winnow him back to Velaris," I plead. "Find Madja , now!"

Azriel looks torn. "I can't leave you," he says, his voice tight with fear. “I— not like this. Not with you being my—”

"Amren is here, I’ll be fine," I insist, glancing at Amren, who is finishing off the last two of Koschei’s soldiers. "Please, Azriel! I can’t watch him die. I am begging you, just go, please!"

Azriel nods reluctantly, wrapping his arms around Lucien. With a final, desperate look at me, he winnows away, leaving me behind in the chaos.

With Azriel and Lucien gone, I feel a pang of anxiety, but I have no time to dwell on it. I turn back to the fight, watching as Eris and the High Lord continue their deadly duel.

Around me, the battle rages on. I join Amren, who is ruthlessly dispatching the remaining dark soldiers with a ferocity that belies her small stature.

Together, we fight our way through the chaos, our movements synchronized from years of fighting side by side.

We are fighting for what feels like hours. My arms ache from dealing blow after blow, and my eyes are getting blurry from the lack of sleep.

I steal a glance at Eris and Beron, watching as they exchange hits. Eris manages to land a few blows, but Beron shrugs them off.

The two of them are evenly matched, but the High Lord’s power coursing through Beron's veins gives him a slight edge.

Suddenly, Beron lunges forward, his sword aimed at Eris's heart. Eris barely manages to block the strike, their blades locking together. Fire erupts between them, and for a moment, it looks like Eris might be overpowered.

But Eris digs deep, summoning a burst of strength. He pushes Beron back, their swords disengaging with a loud clang. Eris's flames burn brighter, and he steps forward, pressing the attack.

The next moment, everything is quiet. No swords clashing, no screaming, just utter quiet.

As the flames subside, there, in the middle of the ballroom, not moving, is Beron.

The High Lord of the Autumn Court is dead.

[duchessathena]

don’t understand how anyone with a curious bone in their body doesn’t get why banning any sort of face covering outright is fascism but that seems to be where we’re at right now. the reason we were all ‘forced’ into our homes (and i know for a fact many of us here in the states never actually stayed at home the entire time early into the pandemic so stop lying) was because there was and and still is a massive disabling disease running rampant and killing people! people died! and people are still dying to this day!! statistically right now 1 in 40 US Americans has COVID! you continue to spread it by walking around unmasked! It’s one thing to sit here and say you don’t want to wear a mask. Perfectly fine by me at this point. Drink up the toxic air filled with a bsl-3 pathogen, micro plastics, wildfire smoke, and lord knows what else. I don’t care anymore but coming on here and claiming that you were forced when there were people at the start of the pandemic refusing to mask is absolutely ludicrous. Just say you don’t care about your health and the health of anyone else around you and be quiet. These mask bans are about the student protestors for Palestine, DRC, now Lebanon and many other parts of the world where contradictions are at an all time high. These mask bans are about using ai to track us better and to carry out violence on people of color, especially black bodies. These mask bans are about disabled people as many people in my previous post have mentioned and how the state wants to cull as many undesirables as possible. This isn’t about you. This is about the future and the world we want to live in.

[andvys]

Dancing with our hands tied | S.H.

Chapter six ⭐︎ Secrets I have held in my heart

Warnings: weed consumption, mentions of death, mentions of sex, allusions to smut. this is mostly written from reader's pov, Steve's pov is only at the ending

Pairing: Steve Harrington x fem!reader

Summary: You step into a new territory and test the waters that Steve had already been dragged into.

Word count: 5k

Author's note: @hellfire--cult I know you're sick of me constantly saying this BUT thanks for working on this series with me hehe

Series Masterlist ⭐︎ Previous Chapter ⭐︎ Next chapter

♡

The lights that hang above the shelves in the living room illuminate the darkened room, casting a soft yellow glow on everything. The TV screen lights up brightly as the killer in the movie shows up dramatically again. The sound is low and no one is paying attention to the horror movie that you have all seen multiple times already. The rain paddles against the windows and the lightning crashes through the sky every few seconds or so, though no thunder has rumbled yet, making you feel relieved. The room smells like takeout and weed, dirty plates litter the coffee table but no one cares about that yet. 

A big cloud of smoke lingers in the room as Eddie and Robin pass the joint back and forth, the latter talking his ear off about the date she had gone on with Vickie the night before, while your eyes are stuck on Michael Myers on the screen, taking the joint from Eddie when he offers it to you, you place it between your lips, squinting your eyes as you take a drag and inhale it deeply. 

You can feel his eyes on you, you can feel them everywhere, on your face, on your upper body, on your bare legs, they’re burning into your skin and you’re now not as blind as you were days back when you thought that you were imagining things, that every slightest glance and touch from his were feeding you lies – that his touches were accidental and his glances meant nothing. But you were wrong, so very wrong. 

For days, your mind has been plaguing you with thoughts about him, and it’s nothing new, really, but it was different than usual. Because before the dinner at Joyce’s and Hopper’s place, he had never given you anything to overthink about, to make yourself feel delusional over. Steve had never touched you before, at least not like that. He had never placed his hand on your waist, he had never brushed his knuckles against yours, he had never looked at you the way he did that night and he certainly never commented on the clothes you wear. 

It drove you crazy, and it made you believe that he somehow figured you out, that he found out about your feelings and decided to torture you by teasing you with touches that he knew you wished had a deeper meaning. But he wouldn’t do that, especially not after your conversation weeks ago, not when he was doing everything to keep the peace. He wouldn’t do that – maybe King Steve would’ve done something like this, but not this Steve – not even when he still holds hatred for you. 

Steve teased you, not accidentally, not unintended. He did it openly, because he wanted to for whatever reason and you only realized it today, when you walked through his front door behind Eddie who held the bags of takeout, you were met with the same teasing look in Steve’s eyes you saw that night. He licked his lips and let his eyes run up and down your body so shamelessly that it almost threw you off because where was this all coming from? 

When did he go from hating your guts, from arguing every chance he got to whatever this is. 

Not only did he look at you like he was ready to flirt, he also placed his hand on your lower back when he led you into the living room earlier – and as though that wasn’t enough to make you crumble, he also leaned in to whisper ‘cute skirt, Blondie.’ 

Cute skirt!? His husky voice and those words kept repeating themselves like a broken record ever since they fell from his lips, they made you think so hard that you dissociated while eating the fries that you’ve been craving all day, missing the conversation between your friends and half of the movie that you watched before Eddie put on Halloween. Only the touch of Steve’s hand pulled you back into reality, you almost jumped from your seat when you felt his hand on your knee when he very obviously pretended to reach over you to grab the bottle of ketchup with a smirk on his face. That was evidence enough for you to realize that all his touches were intended and he did want to tease you, but not for the reason you thought. 

Why? You still don’t know. 

You’re pretty sure that he isn’t attracted to you, at least not in the way you are to him. 

But if he wants to play this game, then you certainly won’t pass up on the opportunity to tease him back a little, though testing the waters first – because you absolutely won’t make a fool of yourself in front of him. 

You have to take it slow until you’re completely sure that he is doing what you think he’s doing. 

You glance at Eddie, his eyes are rimmed with redness, a lazy smile plays on his lips, his eyes are stuck on the screen but he is so far gone in his mind, he is not paying attention to anything anymore, not Robin’s rambling, not the movie and certainly not to you and Steve. 

Robin’s hair is sprawled across the pillow, she looks up at the ceiling, the joint now back between her lips but she’s still rambling. 

They won’t notice anything. 

You take a sip of your drink, eying Steve from the side, and he is already looking at you, he is looking at you in a way that would drive your teenage self up the wall – you’d be a blushing and giddy mess thinking about it for the rest of the day, daydreaming about things that would never even happen. But you’re not a teenager anymore, his glances and touches still make you blush – but you’re not stupid and you certainly don’t daydream about things that aren’t even there. 

You still don’t know why is he looking at you that way but the little sweet voice in your head is telling you that he might have harbored a tiny little crush after seeing you in a stupid dress while the other voice is telling you that Steve Harrington wants to fuck you. These voices might belong to the ghosts of Chrissy and Billy because in no way would you ever think that Steve could ever feel anything more than hatred for you. 

How will he react if you tease him back a little? 

You don’t even have to make it obvious, you can play it off, you can play anything off. 

“Do you guys want something sweet?” Steve asks, “I got ice cream in the freezer.” 

“What else do you have?” Eddie slurs, something that makes Robin giggle.

“Uh, M&M’s, Reese’s, Sour gummies,” Steve mumbles, scratching the back of his neck as he looks up, thinking of what else he got in his cabinet, “I got some chips too.”

Eddie looks at Steve, pointing at him with his ringed finger, “I want it all.” 

Steve snorts at him and at the dazed look on his face, “alright. I’m just gonna clean this up first,” he points to the mess on the table. 

Perfect.

“I’ll help.” 

His eyes meet yours, a slight smirk tugs at his lips, “you sure you wanna get your hands dirty, Blondie?” 

“Oh, I don’t mind getting my hands dirty,” you smirk and break eye contact, rising up from the seat and swallowing down the nervousness. 

The space between the coffee table and the couch isn’t exactly big, and it gives you the perfect opportunity to make the first little step. With an innocent look on your face, you glance at him one more time, before you turn your back to him, bending over in front of him to pick up the dirty plates. Your heart is pounding and your cheeks are already burning but you pay no mind to that. 

Steve sucks in a sharp breath, you can hear it.

Should you even be surprised? His eyes almost bulged out of his skull when your skirt rode up after you just sat down earlier, his eyes were glued on your bare thighs the whole goddamn time and you saw it and yet your heart skips a beat at his reaction just now. 

You’re aware of how short your skirt is and that all it takes is for you to bend down a slight bit more for him to see more than just your thighs, a little further down and he will be able to see your ass and your panties. 

You bite back the smirk as you stack up the dirty plates, taking your sweet time with it. You can feel his eyes on your body and it takes everything in you not to turn around to look at his face but your little plan backfires when you suddenly feel his hands on your hips and his breath on your shoulder. You freeze. 

“I’m sorry,” he whispers into your ear, “it’s so tight in here.”

Blood rushes to your face and your stomach fills with butterflies. His touch and his voice sending shivers down your spine. 

This is bad. This is so very bad. 

You heard the mischief in his voice and his touch still lingers, he doesn’t need to take that long to squeeze past you. 

You don’t know what’s gotten into him or you, it might be the weed in your system or just the spur of the moment but as you pick up all the plates, you take a step back and press yourself against him, only for a one… or two seconds but long enough for you to feel the warmth of his body against yours, long enough to feel his hand squeezing your hip for a single second, long enough to hear him sucking in another sharp breath. 

And then, you step away from him like nothing happened, with innocence in your eyes, you look over your shoulder, “you’re right, it is really tight.” 

You see the way his lips part a little, the way his eyes darken and the way he clenches his jaw. He is angry that you are not falling for his teasing, that you are doing the same to him that he does to you. 

You walk into the kitchen and carrying the dishes over to the sink, you put them down and place your hands on the counter, taking a deep breath as you close your eyes, only now noticing how fast your heart is beating and how clammy your hands are, you give yourself a moment to calm down before you reach for the dish soap and the sponge after you turn on the water.

Flirting is nothing new to you and you’re certainly not shy about it, not anymore. 

Billy was your best friend, and if there’s something he was good at, then it was flirting and taking home girls. He taught you how to be more confident, how to embrace your sensuality and he taught you how to flirt. 

Losing your best friend took a toll on you and you couldn’t stand to be in Hawkins when every place you had gone to, reminded you of him, so you left for a little while. You spent two months in Indianapolis and stayed with your sister. You started going out, parties your sister had dragged you to, clubs and downtown bars and you had fun. For the first time in your life, you were approached by men, they flirted with you and that felt… good. You let your guard down when you were with them, you didn’t feel the need to hide yourself from them, they wouldn’t stay in your life for longer than a night, you didn’t have to fear them leaving or hurting you, there was no attachment, no connection or anything deeper between you than lust, you could be yourself in those few hours you spend with them. 

They made you feel something other than grief, sadness and heartbreak. They were nothing but strangers to you but you felt something in those nights you spent in their beds, their touches brought you back to life… even if only temporarily. 

You are used to flirting, you are used to teasing, it’s an easy game to you… with strangers. But Steve Harrington? He makes you nervous, he makes your heart race like crazy, he burns you with only his glances, and his touches make you feel like you have been kissed by something out of this world. He is different, he is no meaningless man in your life, he is not someone you would kick out of your bed after taking from him what you wanted, he is not someone you could easily leave behind and never look back to again. No, Steve holds your heart in the palm of his hand, he left a tear in your soul, he is the someone you would do anything for and that changes everything. You can’t treat him like you treated them because he is special, every little interaction with him, sets your heart on fire. 

“Jesus, Blondie!” Steve’s voice sounds through the kitchen, making you flinch in surprise, “use less dish soap, one drop is enough!” 

With furrowed brows you look down at all the foam in the sink. It’s not even bad. 

You turn around, glaring at the man and the tone in his voice. 

He shakes his head at you, crossing his arms over his chest as he walks towards you. 

“Are you washing the dishes or me!?” You growl at him, ignoring the tension that still lingers between the two of you. 

Steve chuckles as he stops beside you, raising his hands up in surrender, “you didn’t have to do it, don’t blame it on me.”

You turn back to the plate you were washing, scraping the sponge against it harshly as you try not to look at him, which turns out to be just another challenge – he inches closer to you, breathing down your neck and staring at you. You throw the sponge down and reach for the lever, not noticing the way his eyes widen a little or how he reaches his hand out. 

“Wait careful with t–” he gets cut off by the water that starts streaming from the broken lever. 

“Fuck!” You curse loudly, followed by a gasp when the cold water sprinkles all over your neck and your chest, you throw the plate into the sink and reach for the lever again but Steve grabs your hand, not letting you turn it off the way you want to, he is trying to move to it into a different direction, it only confuses you even more and his touch doesn’t help either.

“Hold still!” Steve snaps at you. 

Your whole chest is already wet from all the water you have been hit with and his angry voice irritates you. 

“Why don’t you get drenched huh!?” 

With a loud sigh, he lets go and you almost start raging. You lean forward, grabbing the lever with both hands when you suddenly feel him behind you, his chest against your back, his whole body pressed against yours as he reaches his arms around you, placing his both hands on top of yours, the water now getting all over the both of you as his now wet fingers handle the broken lever. 

You hear his groan as the water hits him in the face when he leans over your shoulder and he grips your hand tighter. 

And then, the water stops sprinkling and the only sound that continues to fill the room is the rain that still rolls down the windows and your heavy breathing. 

Your chest is rising up and down heavily and so is his, you can feel it against your back, and you can feel his breath on your neck and your shoulder, and you now feel it all by tenfold, thanks to your wet skin, it sends chills all over. You can still feel his hands on top of yours, his much bigger hands that cover yours fully. Your eyes are glued on them and the way their fingers trace your own for a very short moment. 

Your heart is beating so wildly in your chest that you fear that he might hear it. 

You can feel the water dripping down your shoulder, not the one from your hair but the water from his face. 

Despite the nervousness in your chest, you slowly pull your hands away and turn around to face him, only for a gasp threatening to fall from your lips when you notice how close he actually is, how close he had never been before, not even in Joyce’s kitchen, last week. Your chest is almost pressed against his, his face only inches away, lips so close that you can feel his breath on yours. You’re surprised when he doesn’t move his hands away, letting them fall on the counter and your sides. 

His hazel eyes stare into yours so intensely that it almost knocks the breath out of you, the look in them making you feel hot all over your body that you don’t even feel the cold water seeping through your white shirt any longer. 

Strands of his hair hang in front of his eyes, water dripping from them and rolling down his cheek, your eyes follow the drops that lead to his lips, making you gulp when you catch yourself wondering what it would feel like to kiss him or even just to touch his lips with your fingers – you dig your nails into your wet palms.

You don’t even notice how Steve grips the edges of the counter so tightly to the point that his knuckles turn white, but you notice the way his eyes move down to your chest and to your now see-through shirt, the lacy black bra being on full display now… almost. 

You are both breathing heavily, still, whether it’s because of the shock or something else now – you feel the tension, it’s so heavy, heavier than before and it’s making your insides churn in a way that weakens you. 

Neither of you say anything, you are too busy staring at each other, you are too busy wanting him more and more. 

This is not enough. 

How could this ever be enough? 

You have always wanted this, to be this close, to feel his touch, to find out what it’s like to kiss him, to feel him. 

This isn’t fair… This isn’t fair to you. Because this is only making things so much harder for you.

You know you have to snap out of it, even when he makes no move to pull away, to stop staring, to let go of the counter and step away from your body. 

You have to snap out of it or else you will do something that you will regret for the rest of your life. 

You swallow the lump in your throat, you ignore the beating of your heart, you ignore the shakiness in your hands and you blink as you tilt your head up, looking back into his eyes again.

“Lego head,” you whisper shakily, “the water stopped.”

He snaps out of his stupor, blinking and clearing his throat as he averts his gaze. 

He steps away and you make a move to escape this, to escape him but neither of you have noticed just how messy the situation has actually gotten – the water didn’t just sprinkle all over the both of you, it soaked the ground beneath your feet, making the tiles slippery enough for you to lose control and almost take the fall. Almost. 

A gasp tears from your lips when Steve’s hand grabs at your waist and the other reaches for the counter behind you again. Out of instinct, you lift your hand and grab his arm to hold onto him, steadying him as well as he slipped too. He lets go of your waist, gripping the counter with both hands just like he did seconds ago, caging you in completely. He isn’t only close anymore, he is pressed against you completely – his chest flush against yours, his nose bumping into yours causing you to let out another soft gasp. 

And then, you both freeze again. 

You blink. He blinks. Neither of you make a move. 

He looks down at your lips, causing your heart to skip so strongly that you feel it in your whole chest and even your throat. 

“Shit, Blondie.” 

His voice is so low and deep that it makes you shudder, your blood rushing to more than just your face now. 

“I didn’t know you were such a clutz,” he murmurs, shakily as his eyes get stuck on your chest again. 

He is nervous, just like you are, you can tell by the sound of his voice. 

You stare at him, struggling to find your words.

How can you when he looks at you that way? 

As you stand there, caged in by his strong arms, staring up at the man that is much taller and bigger than you, something that makes him all the more attractive, you feel yourself not only longing for his heart but also his body… on top of yours. His much bigger hands on your bare body, his lips on your skin, him inside of you… You are fucked. You are so utterly and completely fucked. 

Steve Harrington could do anything with you, and he is not even aware of the powers he holds over you. 

Footsteps echo through the hallway, causing yours and his eyes to widen and he quickly pulls away from you, careful not to slip again. You pull your hands back, now holding onto the counter yourself. 

Eddie and Robin come rushing into the room just as Steve steps far enough away from you. 

They both halt in their tracks, gasping at the sight of the two of you all soaked from the water. They stare with wide eyes before they turn to look at each other, holding back only for two seconds before they burst into laughter. 

You’re not sure if the sight is really that funny or if they’re just high enough to laugh about anything. 

Eddie bends over, holding his stomach as he continues laughing while pointing between the two of you, Robin holding onto his shoulder as her giggles sound through the kitchen. 

You press your lips together and clench your jaw as you look over at Steve, who nods at the both of them with an annoyed look on his face. 

“What the hell happened!?” Eddie asks through his laughter. 

His voice snaps you out from the daze you were just in… and thank god. 

With a glare, you keep your eyes on Steve, “this fucker didn’t tell me that his sink was jammed and that a little bit of a force can break the lever.”

Steve groans, though not looking at you, he wipes his face as he steps away, “right, blame it on me for your sudden force.” 

He walks out of the kitchen, brushing past Eddie and Robin who stop laughing when he gives them a deadly glare, the one you’re throwing at his back as he leaves to go upstairs, probably to get changed while you stand there with your soaked shirt. 

You carefully step away from the puddle of water in front of you, making your way over to the kitchen island to grab some of the napkins. You dry your face off first, not even bothering with your shirt. 

Despite their amused faces, your friends walk over to you, wanting to help. 

“Damn,” Eddie mumbles as he grabs a napkin, he gives you a smirk, “who got you this wet, Sweetheart?” 

You raise your head up, glaring at your best friend who starts chuckling again. 

“This is porn material right there,” Eddie wiggles his eyebrows at you as he points at your white shirt, but he is not even looking, even though your bra is very visible through the material now – what a gentleman. 

Robin chuckles, “should’ve kept the bra off, babe.” 

Your jaw drops as you stare at them with a stunned expression on your face, “pervs!” 

Robin keeps on chuckling as she walks over the cabinets, searching for clean kitchen towels. Eddie steps closer to you, patting your face dry with the napkins, which only makes you giggle when his brows knit together in concentration. 

Eddie’s eyes flash with amusement as he keeps pressing the napkin against your cheek, shaking his head at your laughter. 

“What’s so funny, smiley?” 

You snort at the nickname, and open your mouth to reply when Steve walks back into the room, his face now dry, hair still wet but no longer dripping. He’s wearing a different shirt now and he holds towels and a sweater in his hands, halting in his tracks, he looks between you and Eddie – his eyes flash with something that you can’t read, his face hardens and he clenches his jaw, you don’t know why but the expression causes your laughter to die down.

“Here,” Steve mumbles, tearing his gaze away from the both of you, he looks at the ground as he makes his way over to you, “those napkins won’t do much.” 

He hands you the towels and then his sweater. 

“And take your shirt off, Blondie,” he orders, “you can wear my sweater.” 

Your chest warms at his words and your heart flutters, and it only makes you feel irritated – this means nothing, this isn’t special, you aren’t special. He’d give his sweater to anyone under these circumstances. 

“Thanks,” you mumble as you put the sweater on the counter, using the soft white towel to dry yourself off first. 

Eddie steps away from you, throwing the napkin into the trash before he makes his way over to Steve’s snack drawer, completely ignoring the puddle of water. 

“Dude, you could clean this up,” Robin mumbles, pointing at the mess on the floor. 

Eddie scrunches his nose up, “why don’t you clean it up?” 

Steve rolls his eyes at them, “I got this, I’ll clean it up.” 

Eddie starts rummaging through the drawer, picking out snacks as Robin turns around to look at you, and at Steve who stares at you with his hands on his hips. 

The shirt sticks to your body uncomfortably, goosebumps litter your skin from the cold water that seeps through the thin material, you want it off immediately. 

You take the sweater, still holding the towel close against your chest, you look up at Steve, “I’m gonna go change…” 

He nods, “yeah, you can uh… use the bathroom downstairs or mine, whatever you want.” 

You ignore the burning in your cheeks, the pounding in your heart as you brush past him and leave the kitchen, making your way into the bathroom. Your friend’s chatter fades away as you close the door behind you, locking it, a shaky sigh falls from your lips as you press your back against it. You close your eyes, giving yourself a moment to just breathe. 

What the hell just happened? 

With shaky legs, you walk towards the sink, dropping the towel and the sweater on the counter before you finally take a look in the mirror, only to gasp when you see just how much you can actually see through your shirt. You grow flustered knowing that Steve could see you like this. 

You groan in embarrassment, reaching for the hem of your shirt, you peel it off your body, replacing it with his sweater – something that fills you with warmth the moment the soft material touches your skin, your heart skips a beat when you look back at your reflection, taking in the sight of his sweater on your body.

You swallow the lump in your throat, distracting yourself by fixing your hair – you won’t let your mind go there, you won’t let yourself think too deeply about anything. This is just a sweater. And yet, your heart won’t stop racing and you can’t deny how such a small thing can make you feel so… comforted. 

When you return into the kitchen, you find it empty, the water puddle on the floor already gone but the dirty plates are still in the sink – you surely won’t risk getting wet again. You turn around and make your way over into the living room, where Eddie and Robin are back in their previous positions, snacking on Doritos. 

Steve is lying on the couch with his arm behind his back, the remote in his hand as he flips through the channels. 

You tug at the sleeves of his sweater, suddenly feeling shy as you walk into the room, wearing something of his. 

You don’t look at him as you walk past him, you also don’t look at him as you sit down on the couch, all that you’re focused on is the pounding in your heart and the nervousness that you still feel after everything that happened minutes ago.

You don’t notice the way he freezes when he takes a look at you, the way he stops flipping through the channels, the way his cheeks flush red when he looks at the sweater on your body – he knows that the only thing underneath the blue sweater of his, is a black, lacy bra and it makes him feel… flustered.

He sees the way you tug at the hem of his sweater when it rides up, pulling your short skirt along, he sees the way you bite down on your lip, he sees the way you glance at him nervously and suddenly Steve feels his blood rushing south. 

He swore to himself that he would never do what he did last week, and he really tried to resist you.

But how can he? 

How can he resist when you so clearly are doing it too now? 

Or is he reading the signs wrong? 

♡

tagging friends and mutuals

@prettyboyeddiemunson @taintedcigs @mysticmunson @wroteclassicaly @maroon-cardigan @munson-mjstan @sherrylyn628 @munsonlore

[tr1nd2de]

Cloudless Lightning

I was reading a fanfic now, and I got the idea of how terrifying it must be for Fawcett's thieves, they're going to rob someone in an alley and BOOM a bolt of lightning in broad daylight, right behind you.

Then a big man with a lot of muscles emerges from the smoke, lightning bolts dance across his body, he looks at you and says: you better put the gun down, we don't want anyone to get hurt.

This is certainly scary, especially for other heroes.

I imagine how furious Batman must be knowing that the new hero recruited by the league, even though he is somewhat afraid of him, was never enough to stop Captain Marvel from appearing in Gotham for his so-called job as "champion of magic".

On yet another night when Batman is finishing his shift as a hero, with probably someone from the Bat-Family, lightning on a cloudless night.

Behind the others, in the alley below them, the technology shorts out and in the alley coming out of the smoke is Marvel, walking towards a store that is opening and he enters, grabs a staff and flies away, as if nothing was out of the ordinary.

In Metropolis, Clark is walking down a street with Lois, his beloved. It's a beautiful day but there are no clouds in the sky. BOOM. Lightning strikes a store. Captain Marvel comes out carrying a demon on his shoulder and flies to where only God knows, because Marvel disappears in mid-air (teleports to the Rock).

And so on and so forth. For the league it is just a theory that the captain does not always live in our reality, apparently the work of "Champion of Magic" makes him travel in several dimensions, from job to job.

But for Billy, he just doesn't understand how every time he tries to use magic he ends up being teleported to another place. (Robber in an alley).

Whenever he tries to have a normal job as a reporter, something gets in the way.

(School trip to Metropolis, great place for a segment with Superman or Lois Lane and Clark Kent the reporters, but as always there is a demon in the middle...)

And last but not least, whenever he has to go to Gotham, because apparently Gotham would have several smuggled magical items.

(Billy hopes Batman isn't around, that guy scares him).

[inthedayswhenlandswerefew]

Where Will All The Martyrs Go [Chapter 5: Heads Or Tails, Fairy Tales In My Mind]

Series summary: In the midst of the zombie apocalypse, both you and Aemond (and your respective travel companions) find yourselves headed for the West Coast. It’s the 2024 version of the Oregon Trail, but with less dysentery and more undead antagonists. Watch out for snakes! 😉🐍

Series warnings: Language, sexual content (18+ readers only), violence, bodily injury, med school Aemond, character deaths, nature, drinking, smoking, drugs, Adventures With Aegon™️, pregnancy and childbirth, the U.S. Navy, road trip vibes, RIP Jace.

Series title is a lyric from: “Letterbomb” by Green Day.

Chapter title is a lyric from: “Are We The Waiting” by Green Day.

Word count: 5.8k

💜 All my writing can be found HERE! 💜

Let me know if you’d like to be added to the taglist 🥰

“I know he has a scalpel in his bag,” Baela says, meaning Aemond. You are sitting with her on the front steps of a two-story house—1970s construction, split foyer, pale blue siding and rust-red bricks—on Trux Street in Plymouth, Ohio. This town was named for the place where the pilgrims stepped off the Mayflower over four hundred years ago, pioneers who crossed through the doorway of an unfathomably changing world to die of disease, cold, accidents, starvation, violence. You wonder if you are so unlike them. “He’s assisted with c-sections before, if it comes to that. And he has needles and surgical thread. But he doesn’t have any way to anesthetize me.”

Luke and Rhaena are on the roof of the silver Chrysler Pacifica parked at the end of the driveway and surveilling the road. Everyone else is inside tearing the house apart as they try to find the keys. You don’t know what to say to Baela. There is no way to console her except by lying, and she’s too smart for that. “How far along are you?”

“I don’t even know.” She laughs like she’s on the verge of losing her mind. You don’t blame her. “The doctors calculate it based on the date of your last period, but mine was all over the place. I had tried a few different birth control pills and had all these side effects, weird spotting and cramping, no sex drive, feeling depressed, so I just figured I’d go all natural for six months and give my body a chance to reset. And we all know how that turned out.” She skims her palms over the globe of her belly, hidden beneath the flowing periwinkle cotton of a maternity dress she found at the Walmart back in Shenandoah. “I’m officially due in four weeks.”

“But it could happen at any time.”

Baela nods miserably. “My mum had me and Rhaena the…you know…the natural way, and it was smooth sailing. But she needed an emergency c-section with my little brother. What happens if that’s how it goes for me? Do you ever think about all the ways people can die now? It’s not just the zombies. I could get murdered, or fall and crack my skull open, or get a cut that turns septic, or rupture my appendix, or get frostbite or heatstroke, or get bitten by a snake. It never ends. We’ll be balancing on the knife’s edge for the rest of our lives.”

You wish you were better with words; you wish you were someone who spoke effortlessly like Rio or Aegon. You reply with the only thing you can think of. “Humans have survived for hundreds of thousands of years, and for the vast majority of that time with no modern medicine. It was dangerous, and it was painful. But there have always been people who made it. We wouldn’t exist otherwise.”

Remarkably, this seems to help. “I know Aemond will do everything he can for me,” Baela says, more steadily now. “He’s always been the most dependable one. So serious, so protective. Daeron was visiting us in Boston when everything shut down, and Aemond wouldn’t let the kid out of his sight for weeks…then Aemond almost died when he lost his eye and Daeron proved he could take care of himself with his compound bow.” Baela unwraps a Twizzler and takes a bite out of it, gazing vacantly at the sky, calm and overcast now that the storm has passed, breezy, mid-80s. She doesn’t even like them, but she’s been eating through a pack of Twizzlers Luke had been carrying in his backpack for Jace, slow mindless chewing like a cow’s. “Aemond feels responsible for you now. And that’s difficult when there’s so little control he actually has over what ends up happening.”

“Baela…I’m so sorry about Jace.”

“Drowning isn’t so bad, I guess. I hope he drowned. I hope he was dead before he washed ashore and they ate him.” Baela turns to you, eyes glazed. “Do you think we should have shot him before we left the river? To make sure he didn’t die in pain? You could have done it if you wanted to. Your aim is good enough.”

“No,” you say, horrified but trying to soften it. “I think that would have been…immoral.”

“I don’t even have a picture of Jace to show the baby, everything was online or on my phone, and now that’s all…gone. Just gone. Like he never even existed. How am I going to explain to my child what Boston was, or law school, or aerospace engineering, or grocery stores or shopping malls or Instagram, or anything else about our lives before this whole fucking disaster? All they’ll ever know is running from monsters, scrounging for shelter and supplies from the ruins of civilization.”

“The world is going to come back, Baela. Maybe not for five or ten years, and maybe looking a lot different than it did before, but humanity will recover. The Black Death wasn’t the end, and neither were the World Wars or the Mongol invasions or the colonization of the Americas, or famines or floods or volcanic eruptions. The zombies won’t end us either.”

“Do you really believe that?”

I want to. “Yeah, I do. We just have to hold on until the tide turns. We can’t give up.”

“In that case, I’ll try not to go completely insane in the immediate future. Thank God Rhaena and Luke are still here. Do you have any siblings?”

You smile vaguely. “Four.”

“Wow,” Baela says. “Do you know where they are now?”

There is an interruption before you have to decide how to answer: a roaring high above in the sky, a remote mechanical growling. You and Baela both look up to see a jet zooming by, just below the steel grey cloud cover and leaving a trail of condensation behind it like a comet’s tail of eons-old cosmic dust. From where he is perched atop the Pacifica, Luke is pointing at the jet to show Rhaena. Aemond, Rio, Aegon, and Daeron come rocketing out of the house to find the source of the noise. After a moment, Helaena moseys onto the front porch as well, tucking flashlights and napkins into her burlap messenger bag. Meanwhile, Aegon is filling his pockets with packs of Marlboro Golds and orange prescription bottles labelled Percocet.

“Is that an airplane?!” Aegon gasps. “People are flying again?! Oh, we are back, baby! We are so back! I’m catching the next flight to SFO, peace out bitches, no more Oregon Trail for me!”

“It’s a jet,” Aemond says flatly. “Not a passenger carrier. Probably military.”

“Doesn’t look like one of ours.” Rio turns to you for confirmation.

“No, I don’t recognize it.”

“Then who the fuck is up there?” Aegon says. “Canada? The U.K.?”

Rio sighs, ruffling Aegon’s already quite disheveled blonde hair. “Who knows, Honey Bun. Maybe it’s China or Russia swinging by to drop nukes on any survivors.”

“Fortunately, nobody’s going to waste a nuclear bomb on freaking Plymouth, Ohio,” Baela says, watching the jet vanish into the west, the droning of its engines replaced by the breeze through the sugar maples and sycamores, the screeching of cicadas and chirps of robins. “No luck finding the keys?”

Aemond frowns as he shakes his head, tapping his chin anxiously. He knows she can’t walk much farther.

“How do none of us know how to hotwire a car?” Aegon demands, exasperated.

Rio replies cheerfully: “Well, Chips and I have been diligently serving this glorious nation since we were eighteen years old, and you’re all clueless rich kids. So…I think that just about sums it up.”

“I need more arrows,” Daeron says, clutching his compound bow. All the ones he had are now speared through zombies along the river where Jace died. When you snuck away from the farm at dawn, Luke used his binoculars to check the shores; they were still swamped with zombies, even more than the night before. They are pack animals; alone, they are aimless and easily confounded, their memories calamitously short. As part of a group—if they were crows they’d be a murder, if they were camels they’d be a caravan—zombies attract and guide each other, moving symbiotically like planets and moons locked in orbit.

“I think you’re going to have to start making them the old fashioned way, kid,” Rio tells Daeron, accompanied by a rough pat of encouragement on the back.

“What, like with sticks?!”

“Yeah. Use a knife to carve one end to make it pointy and you’re good to go.”

“Love it. Very pioneer.” Aegon holds up a Sony Walkman, pink and covered with Disney stickers, Ava spelled out across the top in glittering rhinestones. “At least I found this. Helaena, do we have any more AA batteries?” She fishes around in her bag and hands him a pair.

Baela gapes at him, but she’s smiling. It’s horrible, it’s absurd, it’s something you can’t help but find a macabre humor in. “Aegon, you cannot use that poor eaten kid’s CD player. You know it’s haunted.”

Aegon sings like a jingle from a commercial: “Little Ava died, RIP. Now I get to listen to my CDs.”

“Oh, that is so fucked up!” Rio cackles.

You say, grinning: “Aegon, I’m really going to miss you when we’re all in heaven at the bowling alley made of clouds and you’re downstairs in the fiery version of the afterlife.”

“Don’t feel bad for me, Chipmunk. You’re the one who’s going to die without ever having an orgasm.”

“You don’t need a man for that, Aegon,” Baela says.

“You definitely don’t,” you agree. Aemond glances over at you, intrigued. You stare dauntlessly back. What? You said you weren’t interested. The corners of his lips curl up in a reticent smile; he looks down to try to hide it. He’s touching his chin again. His cheeks flush pink as his mind wanders.

Rio chuckles. “Oh yeah, I remember your little experimenting phase. Lots of trips to the Spencer’s in the Tysons Corner mall when we were stationed at Anacostia.”

You raise your eyebrows, though you’re not annoyed. “I thought you were never going to tell anybody about that.”

“It’s the end of the world, baby. No time to be shy.” Then Rio asks Aemond: “Since we’re here and it’s quiet, you want to go ahead and check every house that has a car with the fuel cap still closed? There are some minivans and SUVs down at the other end of the street. Even a few gallons of gas will take us farther than days on foot.”

Aegon adds, checking his map: “A half tank would get us all the way to Decatur, Indiana.”

“Yeah, let’s do it,” Aemond says. He offers Baela a hand and helps lift her to her feet. “You guys go ahead, I’ll meet you down at the driveway with the black…what is that, a Honda Odyssey? You know the one, the van in front of the yellow house. Don’t go inside until I get there.”

“Yup!” Aegon agrees as he speeds off, racing Daeron to the house. Rio—not one for sprinting—jogs after them with his Remington in hand, ready to bash rotting skulls in at a moment’s notice. Baela toddles down to the Pacifica to tell Luke and Rhaena the plan, her periwinkle dress billowing in the wind; then they climb down to walk with her. Helaena floats across the sidewalk like a ghost, pausing to pick buttercups that grow up between the cracks in the cement.

Aemond has been waiting until the two of you are alone. “Can I ask you something?”

“Yeah, sure.” A few houses down, a female zombie—early-twenties, white bikini top, red Ohio State shorts—staggers across the yard and in her attempt to snag Aegon falls and impales herself on the white picket fence. She is suspended there, clawing and yowling, her blackening intestines and dark clotted blood staining the wood. Aegon takes his time getting into a stance and swings his golf club like he’s at a driving range. He hits her dead-on, caves the front of her face in, takes a few more shots just to be sure.

“I get what’s in Oregon for Rio,” Aemond says. “Sophie, the baby, his parents. But why are you going there?”

“Rio’s my best friend. He might be my only friend who’s still alive. And when we left Saratoga Springs, he made me promise that I wouldn’t let him die alone. So before anything else, I have to make sure he gets to Odessa and finds his family. And then I can figure out what’s next for me. But if it really is safe there, I don’t see why I’d leave. I’ve never wanted to be on my own. Maybe I can end up having a family in Oregon too.”

Aemond rests his elbows on the porch railing. He’s teasing you. “We’re friends, aren’t we? I’m still alive.”

You tease him back. He deserves it. “I’m not sure about you and me.”

“I’d like for us to be friends.”

“Would you?”

“Resoundingly.”

“Maybe I’ll give it a try.”

He considers you. “You know, Kentucky might have been a good place for you to hide out. And it would be a lot closer than Oregon.”

You stand up, throwing on your backpack full of bullets for your Beretta M9s, beef jerky and peanut butter crackers and granola bars, lip balm, bottles of water, Kleenex tissues, Juicy Fruit, miscellaneous treasures from the road, practically worthless trinkets made so impossibly valuable. “We’re done here, right?”

Aemond is disappointed, though not with you. He has committed an error he cannot understand. “Yeah, we’re done.” He walks with you to the yellow house, your sneakers pounding in tandem on the sidewalk, squirrels and rabbits darting through the overgrown lawns, eastern tiger swallowtails swooping between blossoms.

Aegon says when you and Aemond arrive in the driveway, nodding to the once-attractive blonde zombie pawing and licking at the glass of the living room window: “Who wants to take care of Ryan Seacrest?”

“Got it,” Rio replies immediately. He kicks down the front door, macerates the zombie’s skull with the butt of his Remington, then sweeps through the kitchen and dining room searching for any other monsters in need of hasty euthanasia. He doesn’t find any. He drags the corpse outside to lessen the stench of decomposition and opens all the downstairs windows.

“Commence Operation Find The Minivan Keys,” Aegon says as he rummages through drawers and cabinets. Helaena joins him, seeking so delicately she is almost soundless, her large blue eyes flicking from place to place. Luke, Rhaena, and Daeron stay outside to keep watch. Baela collapses into a recliner in one corner of the living room and is dozing within seconds.

“I’ll clear the upstairs,” Aemond volunteers, then asks you: “Watch my blind side?”

You can’t help but smile; it is a generous invitation. It is an honor. You shadow him up the staircase of olive green carpet, through the hallway, into each of the three bedrooms and one full bath. When you are certain it is safe—exploring the back of every closet, under every bed—you and Aemond begin searching for weapons and car keys. The main bedroom is like a forest: blankets pattered with trees and deer, wood furniture, paintings of the Battle of the Wilderness during the Civil War. You investigate every drawer of the nightstand and dresser, then go to leave.

“Wait.” Aemond peeks out into the hallway to make sure no one else is around, then closes the bedroom door. Your eyes track him quizzically, shy skittish optimism, your head tilted, your fingers finding the dresser behind you, cool rust-hued oak, a color like dried blood. You slip off your backpack. Then Aemond comes to you like a returning comet—once in a lifetime, once in an eon—and holds your face in his hands as he kisses you, soft, careful, unhurried, then turning famished, sweltering incurable hunger. You lift yourself up onto the dresser; your thighs have parted, and Aemond is between them, still fully clothed and leaving yours in place too, so innocent, so spotless, and yet in your mind you are imagining what it would feel like to lie beneath him as he opens and fills you, to be so irredeemably close to another person, to watch and listen as he teaches you what to do.

Right here? Right now?

It suddenly strikes you as too soon; you want this but you aren’t ready. Your heart races, you can’t catch your breath. “I am obligated to make you aware that according to your own calculations, I am likely dangerously fertile at the moment.”

Aemond grins as he bites playfully at your lower lip. “Relax. We’re not rounding all the bases this time.”

His voice evaporates your panic, lulls your rushing blood. Your muscles turn to seamless rippling water. Your bones crave the weight of his. “Yeah, totally, good, that’s good. Just making sure.”

“I want to touch you. Can I touch you?”

In reply, you unbutton your denim shorts and pull down the zipper, slowly, very slowly, your gaze linked with his like torn flesh stitched together. He’s close enough to kiss you again, but he doesn’t; he takes your chin gently and turns your face to the side, admiring the curve of your jaw. Then his lips are on your throat and his right hand is skimming down the front of your shirt, over your belly, under your shorts. You gasp—the foreignness of another’s hand here, the disorienting vulnerability—and Aemond stops.

“No, I’m okay,” you assure him, smiling. You kiss him deeply, your fingertips tracing his scar, the work of his careful, gifted hands. Aemond does not flinch away. He presses his face into your palm, offering himself fully, taking shelter in you. And everything other than him—this house, this world, this age, this westward journey, this apocalypse—goes quiet, quiet, quiet, like when you are shooting, like when you are hammering nails under the sun. Aemond makes everything horrifying disappear. It is the greatest sort of magic you can imagine.

“So,” he says. “What did you buy at Spencer’s?”

“Green Day t-shirts.”

“Sure.”

“And some, uh, battery-powered companionship.”

“Hm.” Aemond’s fingers are moving against you; it is increasingly difficult to respond to his questions. “Internal or external? Or both?”

“Oh, definitely…um…I stayed on the outside, mostly. I tried…oh wow, okay…inside a few times, but I didn’t get much out of it. It was mostly just uncomfortable.”

“No problem. We’ll work up to that.”

“Will we?” You hope you don’t sound too desperate. The warm coiling pleasure is swelling, strengthening, begging to be released, loosed like an arrow or fired like a bullet. Aemond’s fingers slip through your wetness, circling and pressing down harder, insistently, masterfully. It feels different than using toys: it is more gradual, less sharp, helplessly overpowering.

“That’s my plan. If you’ll allow it.”

You exhale a threadbare ghost of a whimper against his throat and then reach for his shorts, fumbling blindly for the button and zipper.

“No, don’t do anything,” Aemond murmurs, soft and pleading, almost like a prayer. “Let me take care of you. Please let me feel like I’m doing something right.”

“You’re doing a lot right at the moment.” You’re close now, your breaths quick and panting. You throw your arms around the back of Aemond’s neck and fold into him, feeling the thudding pulse of his carotid artery beneath your fingertips, the softness of his lips and unscarred cheek as he nuzzles the side of your face. It’s so quiet, but there’s no need to fill the silence, no words, no uneasiness. You’ve always wondered what you would have to do to please a man, what premeditated motions and praises you would offer him, niceties, perhaps even lies. But this is effortless. The shimmering golden glow like sunlight is here, and he is the one drawing it out of you, water from a well, blood from a tapped vein. The only sound you make is a shuddering inhale, but Aemond knows immediately. He closes his eyes, relieved, proud, beaming, resting his forehead against yours.

He asks: “Can I try…?”

“Yes, do it, please, I want you to.”

Aemond’s hand shifts between your thighs, moves lower, and there is a sudden jolt of pain like a pinch, like a bite. You wince before you can think to disguise it. Immediately, Aemond retreats, kissing your lips and your cheeks. “It’s okay, it’s okay. You were incredible.”

You reach for his shorts again and unbutton them. “Show me what to do.”

“You don’t have to—”

“I know I don’t have to. I want to.”

He takes a shaky breath, drags his tongue over the fingers he touched you with, moans so quietly you can barely hear him. He frees himself from his clothes: long and thick, harder than you believed flesh could be. Aemond grasps your hand and places it, demonstrates how to move and how much pressure to apply. Then his own hands drop to grip the edge of the dresser as you stroke him. You nip at his throat, his jaw, the shell of his ear; you coax euphoric sighs from him, feel a high in your bloodstream like something illicit and lethal.

“I’ll be honest,” you say. “I have no idea how that’s ever going to fit inside me.”

Aemond chuckles, distracted. “Women stretch, just like men do. It might take time, but it will happen. And I’ll make sure it’s as good as it can be.”

“I want it to be you, Aemond,” you whisper, and you can feel him throbbing in your hand. “You and no one else. Teach me how to do everything.” Make the world go away.

He gasps as he finishes, a thunderous trembling all over, a gush of white heat that flows over your hand. Curious, you lift it to your mouth. “Don’t—!”

But he’s too late; you lick him from your palm and then recoil at the taste, pungent, bitter, salty.

Aemond laughs hysterically, kissing your mouth and then your forehead. “Oh God, I’m sorry, I should have warned you.”

“I hope I taste better than that.”

“You definitely do.”

You peer up at him, dazed, dreamy. “I really like you, Aemond.”

“You can’t fall in love with me.” It is a taunt; it is a warning.

“If I do, I won’t let you know,” you promise. “You’re on first watch tonight, aren’t you?”

“I am.”

“Then I’ll stay up too.”

“Rio already volunteered to do it.”

“Really, I don’t mind.”

“No,” Aemond purrs, brushing your hair back from your face, marveling at you. “I can’t have you sleep deprived. You’re our best shot.”

“I can handle it.”

“You want to be honest with each other, you want to communicate? I like knowing you’re rested. I like knowing you’re safe.”

The door flies open with a bang; Aegon stands in the threshold. “We’ve got three-quarters of a tank of gas!” he announces ecstatically, jangling car keys in the air. Then he registers what he’s looking at. “Come outside when you’re done fucking.” Aegon slams the door shut; you hear his Sperry Bahama sneakers drumming on the staircase.

“I guess we should go,” you say reluctantly, untangling yourself from Aemond and sliding down from the dresser.

“Wait.” He gets a water bottle out of your backpack, soaks a handful of Kleenex tissues, and gives them to you to clean yourself off. When you’re done, he wipes himself down too. “Make sure you always take a piss after any…activities. We don’t have antibiotics if you get a kidney infection.”

“I know, doctor. I’ve read Reddit threads.”

“Not a doctor. Just a lowly intern.”

“You seem like an anatomy expert to me,” you say, then head downstairs.

The black Honda Odyssey is idling as the last of the supplies are loaded, the windows down, Baela adjusting the driver’s seat so she can accommodate her belly. Everyone piles inside and she steers the minivan out of the driveway and onto Trux Street. Aegon pops one of his mixtapes into the CD player. The song that pipes through the speakers is Prayer In C:

“Yeah, you never said a word

You didn’t send me no letter

Don’t think I could forgive you…”

“So,” Baela says casually, grinning at you in the rearview mirror. “How was the sex?”

“Stop,” Aemond begs, his face going red, smiling involuntarily.

You say placidly: “I appreciate your interest, but that’s not what we were doing.”

Rio turns to Aegon. “Do you know what sex looks like or not, dumbass?”

“They were doing something, okay! Those were not virginal activities!”

“See, our world is slowly dying

I’m not wasting no more time

Don’t think I could believe you…”

You rest your head on Aemond’s shoulder and watch the abandoned houses pass by in a blur.

~~~~~~~~~~

The Odyssey arrives in Decatur, Indiana just a few hours before sunset, gas to spare and plenty of time to find a safe place to spend the night. You break into a house on the outskirts of the west side of the city: a rancher with a screened-in porch, beach décor, bowls of seashells on tables and spray-painted aluminum dolphins on the wall. Baela plummets into sleep immediately, sharing the largest bed with Rhaena and Luke. Helaena writes in her spider notebook for a while before curling up on the living room couch, Daeron sprawled on the floor beside her with a couch cushion for a pillow. Aegon is in what was once a child’s bedroom; you have the bedroom of a teenage girl, perhaps spirited away to friends or relatives in some other part of the country, perhaps dead, perhaps lurching around out in the night somewhere, mad and murderous. Everything is purple, the walls, the blankets, the stuffed animals that form a mountain on the other half of the bed.

You are exhausted, but you can’t sleep. Your thoughts won’t stop racing, stop craving. Aemond and Rio are in rocking chairs out on the porch, keeping watch and working their way through the case of Sunny D they found in the kitchen pantry. You go out to join them, then stop at the screen door that separates the linoleum-floored dining room from the porch. They are discussing you. You sit, legs crossed, listening in the dim silvery light, stars and moon and nothing else.

Aemond is saying: “She doesn’t talk much about where she came from.”

Rio chuckles, a low baritone rumble. “She doesn’t talk much in general. But yeah, don’t expect any juicy revelations. That’s not how she does things.”

“Do you know what her life was like before?”

“I know some of it. I don’t know a lot.” Rio pauses; you can envision him shrugging and running his fingers through his dark curly hair, weighing what you would be okay with him sharing. “I know that when I met her, her mother was calling all the time telling her to send money home. And she’d do it, because she felt like she didn’t have a choice. Then she never had cash for drinks or anything, I was always paying her way, and one day I was finally like ‘Chips, how much do you actually have in your account right now?’ because I figured she must be down real low. Jesus Christ, I couldn’t believe it when she showed me the balance, she had like three bucks left until her next paycheck, and of course then her mother would be calling again. She sent tens of thousands of dollars home that disappeared, poof, gone, without a trace.”

Aemond sounds stunned. “What did they spend it on?”

“Who the fuck knows with those people. Lottery tickets and cigs, probably. Trips to Virginia Beach. Benny Hinn Bibles. And when she tried to hit the brakes, her mother and siblings got nasty, calling constantly and telling her how awful she was and that they were going to starve. I convinced her to stop picking up the phone, but it took forever. I think she knew by then she was going to have to cut them off if she didn’t want to end up back there, but she needed somebody to give her permission. That was my job. As far as I know, she hasn’t spoken to anyone from home in years. Hell, Sophie was her AOP.”

“AOP…?”

“Oh, sorry, Arrears of Pay. It’s the person you designate to get all your benefits if you die in the service. I guess she figured that if our base got bombed or our plane went down or something, at least it would end up with my family.”

Aemond is quiet, thirty seconds, a minute, maybe two. “Obviously my circumstances were a lot different. But I understand having to choose between other people’s expectations and yourself.”

“Why are you asking me all this?”

Another pause; silent thoughts under glimmering stars and the shrieks of short-lived summer cicadas. “She takes me out of this world for a while. She makes the guilt and the fear go quiet. I want to know everything about her.”

When Rio speaks, he is gentle, compassionate. “The hard truth is, the details aren’t my business. They aren’t yours either. When people enlist, they’re starting over. It’s a Get Out Of Jail Free card. It gets them away from home, but it also gets them away from whoever they were before.”

“She said something like that once. Back at Fort Indiantown Gap.”

“It’s a polite way of telling you to shut up.” You know from his voice that Rio is smiling. “If she wants to forget her old life, you have to let her. If you care about her, you’ll want her to be able to move on.”

“I care.”

“She likes you,” Rio says. “But you could still fuck it up. She’s good at finding reasons not to trust people.”

“It’s a bad way to live.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. I know. I’m the same way.”

There is quiet now, only the sounds of Sunny D being slurped and cicadas screaming through the darkness. You have intruded enough. You stand and walk back down the hallway, then remember something Aegon said outside a Burger King in Pennsylvania. You go to his bedroom, illuminated by a flashlight pointed towards the ceiling, casting long deformed shadows.

Aegon is lying on his back with his head hanging upside down over the side of the bed—dinosaur blankets, bright red and blue pillows—puffing on a cigarette and listening to his new CD player, previously Ava’s, with both earbuds in. Then he spots you. Still upside down, Aegon hits the pause button on his CD player and says: “Hey, Microchip.”

“What did you mean about people pretending to love you?”

He smirks, shrugs, takes a lazy drag off his Marlboro Gold. “Every friend I’ve ever had has used me for money, mansions, yachts. Every girl I’ve ever fucked has wanted something in return. Mother prefers Daeron, Grandfather prefers Helaena, Criston prefers Aemond, and Father prefers his real estate empire and his model ships. Can you imagine loving a miniature replica of the Titanic more than your own children?”

“No,” you say, honestly and with heavy, gore-red pity. “You shouldn’t have to go back to people who make you feel that way. I wouldn’t.”

Aegon takes another drag as he watches you. “Aemond mentioned you’re from Kentucky.”

“I am.”

“But you won’t be returning.”

“No.”

Aegon nods, like you’ve answered an important question. “Aemond talks about you a lot. It’s cute. It doesn’t make me sick like when he was with Alys. Playing her games, breaking himself in half to follow her rules.”

You peer down at your fingernails, short and functional and unglamorous. You don’t want to hear about the older woman who was his lover, his obsession, his cure, his venom. She was poisonous to him, surely, and yet she was experienced where you are uninitiated and unversed, she had a PhD to compare with your high school diploma. Surely in those seven years he shared moments with her that were divine. Surely even a curse is woven from magic.

“Anyway.” Aegon rolls over, props himself up on his elbows, and extinguishes his cigarette in an empty plastic Sunny D bottle. “I have no particular affinity for my old life or the beach house in California, but that’s where Aemond is going. And I have to be where he is. I have to make sure he’s alright, you know?”

Yes, you do know; that’s how you feel about Rio. “What’s it like? That house up on a cliff all by itself?”

Aegon grins, like he’s caught you in a mouthwateringly compromising position. “Why? You thinking about visiting someday?”

“Just wondering.”

He squirms over to one side of the bed to make room for you, popping in an earbud. “Come listen with me.”

“What is it?”

“Just come over here!”

You cross the room and kick off your sneakers, climb onto the bed, lie down and take the other earbud that Aegon offers you. What you hear when you listen is Don McLean’s American Pie. “Oh, this is ancient.”

“It’s a classic. I wish I’d gotten to live through the 70s.”

“We’ll reinvent them when the world starts up again. Disco and lava lamps and shag carpets. We’ll shoot heroin and listen to vinyl records. Jimmy Carter can be president if he’s still alive.”

Aegon snickers, and then he sings along, hushed but surprisingly melodic, solemn, tender. He’s looking at you expectantly, eyebrows raised, nodding, beckoning for you to join him. You adamantly refuse. You don’t sing in front of anybody, not even Rio.

“I met a girl who sang the blues

And I asked her for some happy news

But she just smiled and turned away

I went down to the sacred store

Where I’d heard the music years before

But the man there said the music wouldn’t play…”

Aegon shoves your shoulder. “I could be dead tomorrow. Don’t ignore me.”

Self-consciously, but smiling a little bit, you begin to sing with him, so softly you can barely hear yourself. Aegon is beaming, small even white teeth beneath sparkling eyes, a murky cool blue like storm clouds, like the ocean, waves lapping at the shores of Diego Garcia, the Gulf of Tadjoura off the east coast of Djibouti, Corpus Christi Bay, places you once never knew existed.

“And in the streets, the children screamed

The lovers cried and the poets dreamed

But not a word was spoken

The church bells all were broken

And the three men I admire most

The Father, Son, and the Holy Ghost

They caught the last train for the coast

The day the music died.”

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

aita for calling out someone for being manipulative towards a trans friend? Names have been changed for privacy reasons and TLDR at the end because this is long.

I (24f) am cis but have had a lot of trans friends (binary, nonbinary, and neopronoun) throughout the years and am very supportive so i take this very seriously. So I met this girl my first year in college (we were 18 at the time) and we became friends. We're polar opposites, she talks a lot and I don't, she parties a lot and I like to do more sophisticated things, she's a typical extrovert basically, and I'm more introverted. Anne (24f) was diagnosed with borderline personality disorder. I don't know when, she just told me this years ago. I've seen tiktoks about bpd and researched Google about bpd a little so I know all about how they have fave persons and will "mimic" people in the friend group and become clingy, manipulate, etc. I've seen pics of her in high school, noticed that she was a theater kid, she said she was good at acting and even said she thinks her bpd helped with her acting although I'm not sure how, but she said she only joined the theater club because a boy she had a crush on was in theater. That should've been my first red flag but I was naive. She has a degree in something else (not theater) because our second year in college her favorite character in a TV show did a certain job, she got interested in that, and now she also does that as a living. She doesn't talk about her bpd, she's only mentioned it a handful of times. I can count on one hand how many times. And I get it because she said someone once told her people with bpd should be sterilized and not be allowed near children. Which is really messed up and I hate that someone said that.

However on with the situation. One of our friends Mike (25m) is a trans man. We met him four years ago. He's very handsome, broody, introverted, intelligent, great listener, very accepting and understanding, similar to me but opposite to her. Now we didn't know he was trans until two years ago, because I asked him on a date and he turned me down, and when I asked why he told me that he was mostly T4T and only viewed me as a friend. We were like woah you're trans, okay that's cool, etc. He explained that he was lucky enough to get on puberty blockers and transition young etc which is why he passes. I said okay I'm not trans and you're mostly T4T fair enough.

Well last year Anne suddenly tells us that she is trans too. She says she's bigender. She says she is okay with either she her or he him because she feels like a man and a woman at the same time. Some days she's a woman, some days she's a man, and some days she's both, according to her. She says she does not like they them pronouns. Suddenly her and Mike are spending all this extra time together. Last month he confided in me that he thinks he's in love with her, after years of him only seeing her as a friend, and then they started officially dating.

Here's the problem: she has not changed her outward appearance, her name, started any kind of medical stuff, joined any groups, bought a binder etc. We all continue to call her she and her because she fully presents as female and doesn't have a problem with it. Also she's very effeminate in body language, the way she talks, etc. I know technically I could call her a he or a him, too, but she never asks me to or corrects people when they call her she because well technically she is a she too. Mike is the only one who uses he and him pronouns with her as often as she and her, but she has never thanked him. It really feels like she's saying she's trans and then going about her life exactly as a cis woman simply to convince Mike to date her.

First off, Anne and Mike are NOT compatible. She likes to party, smoke weed, talks a lot, I'm not sure how she graduated with such good grades or why she does so well in her job because she is honestly a LOT to handle and I'm saying that as nice as possible. Mike would never touch weed or go to clubs and he says he would be fine staying home while she does those things but how could you trust someone to party while high and not hook up with others? I've seen her make out with five people in one night at a frat party. They also had wildly different childhoods, such as she grew up in a conservative community and doesn't speak to her family, and he grew up in a liberal area and is close with his family. But more importantly she has a history of joining theater because she had a crush on someone in theater (plus she admits she is good at acting, so maybe she is acting now?) and getting a degree and job in a field because a favorite fictional character did that and now this? It feels like she was attracted to him, found out he usually dates other trans people, and found a way to continue being cis but claim to be trans without having to do anything trans related, basically mimicing her favorite person. As soon as they met they hit it off, or should I say she clung to him and pretended to have the same likes and dislikes whenever they were alone I assume.

It sounds terrible I know, which is why I discussed this with a group chat first that neither of them are in, and the group chat not only agreed that she is far too "obnoxious" for him (those were NOT my words!) but that she is faking being trans in an attempt to make him fall in love with her (which seems to be working.) I would NEVER have gone further without making sure with them first. So then a few of the people in my group chat and I held an intervention with Anne alone. The six of us (the others don't live close enough to come) met up with Anne at her place and told her what she was doing was wrong and gross and that she needed to get help for her bpd and to stop catfishing Mike. She didn't take well to what was said, which I anticipated, but she went crazy. She was screaming at us, insulting us, sobbing while yelling etc, literally said if we ever contacted her again she would call the cops, so we left.

I immediately called Mike before she could and asked him to meet me at a restaurant nearby and that it was very important. Since Mike doesn't know anyone in the group chat I went alone and I explained EVERYTHING before she could gaslight and manipulate him even further. He left, did not finish or pay for his food. I messaged him several times, but a few hours later he texted me to never to speak to him again, and then blocked me on everything. I showed up to his house and Anne was there. Mike said if I ever contacted him again he would get a restraining order on me so I left. I've discussed this with the group chat and now suddenly half of them changed their mind and don't want to talk about it anymore. Several of them left the group chat. Not only that but several of my friends who know either Mike or Anne or both have blocked me on everything. When I've tried to contact these friends through other means and explain everything, they either didn't respond or said for me never to contact them again because I was being transphobic. Listen I know under NORMAL circumstances you shouldn't question when someone comes out but this is NOT a normal situation, and now I am concerned Anne is unsafe for Mike but also an unsafe person to know, as she literally is trying to destroy my life because I called her out on some seriously messed up and abusive behavior.

TLDR am I the asshole for trying to protect my trans friend from a potential stalker?

What are these acronyms?

[ch3rryflav0ur]

Songs that I like as Enhypen's fics: H.S.K.T

-> pairing : horny!jungwon x fem!reader

-> warnings : dirty talk, swearing, praising, blowjob, handjob

-> +18 only

-> Masterlist

How much do you think of me? Hm, honestly

Wish I could open your heart

Just tell me in words

There's no need to look around

Don't pay attention to other women, look at me

Twenty years of being a virgin doesn't affect Jungwon at all, I mean, he had done a lot of things like kissing, touching and stuff but the real deal is that he never enjoyed that much like he was always hungry for something he can't even understand...also because he never had the chance and don't rush himself.

At some point of his life he though he was asexual or somethin but that though change when one night he beat his meat thinking about other woman while he was watching porn.

He likes sweet scents like coconut or vanilla.

This weekend has been amazing since exam season are finally over, he finished all his exams with A+ and compliments from all the teachers, like always.

"Good job Jungwon, your parents must be proud of you" his teacher said to the young boy and he only smile politely to Mr Jeon.

He likes dumb shirts with stupid phrases like "I love milfs"

He is always been a top student, always stayed extra hours studying in the library or coffee shop alone to keep his mind quiet, he hated internal silence. But don't misunderstand him, he loves parties, love-hate hook up culture, loves to smoke weed sometimes in the living room of his friends while they drink cheap beer and play call of dutty until sunrise, playing basketball, helping his grandmother on the weekends taking care of her small tomato garden. He knows what a good balance is.

He likes long skirts and the tanning of the bikini strap since today.

That's what he though the first time he saw you in the kitchen of his grandma, you were on your back trying to get something you couldn't reach, Jungwon walked up behind her and noticed how the girl's body tensed when she felt someone behind her. She smells sweet, he though.

"You should ask for help if you can't do it alone," Jungwon said, reaching for the package of ramen she was trying to pick up.

"I see you've already met" said the older woman carrying a bag of fruits, which Jungwon quickly helped her with.

"Grandma, I told you not to carry any weight," said her grandson, scolding her.

"Jungwon, this is Y/n, our neighbor" her grandmother said smiling at the girl with curly hair and glasses.

"Hi, your grandmother always talks about you, I'm Y/n, one of the next door neighbor" said the young woman while looking at Jungwon.

"I'm Jungwon, nice to meet you" he said calm, of course he knows her, he's been moaning her name these days. "Thanks for always help my grandma"

He likes the girl next door.

Love, a usual selfishness

I'll raise the level between us

Have you seen a woman like this before?

I got what you need

After the little Talk, Y/n left some cherries on the kitchen as thanks for the kimchi that Jungwon's grandmother had previously treated the girl. Apparently all this time her grandmother and Y/n have been exchanging food because she had never tried korean food and since his grandmother was enjoying her free time she had before returning to Korea for a few weeks of vacation.

"woonie, tomorrow when I leave before you go to class, give Y/n this bag " her grandma said to Jungwon "And always be kind"

"I know grandma" Jungwon said to the old woman "I Will miss you" Jungwon hug and kiss her warm cheek "call me if anything happen, I'll go out for a while"

"Don't buy cigarettes or I won't leave you anything in my will Yang Jungwon"

"don't said that!" Jungwon scold her again.

Indeed, he went for cigarettes and mint gum.

Three days passed until Jungwon's grandmother reminded him if he had already delivered theq package to Y/n. Jungwon lied to her and said yes, quickly pulling up his pants after having been masturbating for almost an hour, it's been an hour and he still horny, a virgin loser.

Jungwon took a shower, he put on some gray sweatpants and a plain white shirt , perfume and before leaving the house he heard the ring bell only to find y/n in front of the door, cute make up, two lower ponytails, smelling like coconut, holding a cloth bag and her tits almost exposed with the dress she was wearing, Jungwon almost closed the door on her face involuntarily but stayed still, his gaze on her breast.

"Do you like my watermelons?"

"what?!"

"I said, do you want some watermelon?" Y/n ask as she shows up a glass tuper with fresh cutting watermelon and Jungwon sighed calmly, trying not to sound paranoid.

Y/n entered the house and left the fruit in the refrigerator while Jungwon looked for the package that his grandma had prepared for her.

"My grandma told me to give you this" Jungwon said trying not lo look at her chest. He didn't know what was inside of that box but when she opened he recognized four bottles of plum wine, he smile, It was handmade.

"What is this?" Y/n ask with a confused look to Jungwon, getting closer to him "What is written here? Is this korean right?

"It means Plum wine" he replied as he feels her boob on his arm.

"Drink with me, wait...You're over 18 right?" she asked opening a bottle looking at him.

"i'm 20" he said

"Aww you're a baby"

"how old are you?"

"I'm 23" both of them laugh at each other , jungwon make fun of her with the phrase "aww you're baby" in an ironic tone and then start drinking in the livin room, the wether was hot, the fan was on, bag of chips open on top of the table while she laughts at Jungwon's stories, touching his arm occasionally ,she was very touchy, he though.

Y/n saw a photo album under the little table and she began to take a look, seeing various people in that album, many places, traditional costumes, too many pictures and so much cultural differences for her was intriguing, little baby Jungwon looked so cute and everytime he shows her a photo with his parents, his eyes are pure nostalgic. She loves how Jungwon explains everything to her with many details.

I bet you can't forget my voice and my charms

Your hands, I held onto that moment

Baby, you make me, your hands stroking down from my neck to my back.

And those drowsy eyes.

Don't you want me? 

I've got you a present, take it if you care

After two bottles of plum wine it's not Jungwon's fault you fell sleep on the coach looking so helpless in his lap, her head was on a pillow under his lap and he had the perfect view of your breast and lips, his breathing became heavy, you still aware tho.

"do you think i'm pretty?" she ask with her eyes closed making jungwon gasp.

"yes" he replied right away and she chuckle.

"have you ever had a girlfriend Jungwon?" Y/n ask tipsy again

"No" he replied "I mean I did a lot of things it's not tha-

"it's okay" she open her eyes and stared at him with an innocent look, big black doe eyes with long eyelashes "You don't have to explain anything"

It's not that Jungwon wanting you to suck his cock and stuff you up with his kids but actually that is what he needs right now.

"close your eyes" she said as she get up covering Jungwon's eyes, He was about to complain until he finds himself covering his own eyes with red cheeks . "Don't open them yet". The boy was nervous, his hands felt sweaty and he couldn't figure out what she was doing, he can only feel that sweet aroma getting stronger...like if she is gettting closer, his pulse began to increase when he felt a hand on his shoulder and something cold on his lips. Jungwon removed his hands from his eyes and he see how Y/n was holding a fork with a piece of watermelon to jungwon's lips.

"Fuck it" Jungwon takes her arm to bring her closer, the fork fell on the floor, they both look at each other and Jungwon approaches to kiss her unprepared , feeling her gloosy lips and how his body trembles, it was a messy sloppy kiss. "stop playing with me please"

Y/n was surprised how she suddenly felt his strong arms, she was cornered on the small sofa, his shy gaze on her, he was so cute like that "let's go to your room" she whisper and he nooded quickly as he stand up, the nerves were eating him up inside, he heard the footsteps behind him, Jungwon's room was on the second floor, once he arrived at the room, Y/n looked around and see a lot of posters of anime, movies and pop rock bands "do you like the driver era?" She ask

"yeah..."

"I love them!" she said as she sits in his bed "I always forget....

"...When do flowers bloom" Jungwon finish the lyrics of the song feeling less nervous.

Y/n patted the side for Jungwon to sit with her, he obeyed her "you look nervous." She said slowly while pressing his chest with one hand to lay him down on the bed, he let himself fall gently then she climbed carefully on top of him sitting on his prominent erection, feeling him hard rock underneath her panties, she gasp "you're hard already?"

She leaned closer to his body, bringing their lips together again, her tongue caressing his with slow and sensual movements as she feel how Jungwon caressed her cheek firmly, as if she was going to leave at any moment, she move her hip grinding on him wanting to feel him more, getting wetter just from the friction between her panties and her pants.

"Don't move-e" Jungwon panted as both of his hands grap her ass embarrassed

"why not?" She ask innocently

"stop teasing" at this point Jungwon is trying not to cum so fast to not look like a pathetic teenager.

"what do you want me to do?" She asked playing with the silver pendant that hung from his neck, it was rectangular and had a sun, behind it were two initials, YJ

"suck my cock" he whisper as his cheeks become red

She left the pendant, placed herself on her knees between his thighs while Jungwon made himself more comfortable on the bed, her delicate hands slid up his thighs, reaching the elastic fabric of his pants, pulling them down along with his underwear and her eyes opened without saying a word. Jungwon watched as she bit her lower lip.

It was long and veiny with a pink tip. She took off her glasses putting them on his bedside table as the boy only pray for his own sanity.

Without saying nothing she start strokin his cock slowly making Jungwon moan at the sudden touch, her tiny hands tried to grap the entire length of her length as she started licking his mushroom tip for a couple of seconds, eyes on him never looking away and in one go she put it all in her mouth, nose and lips colliding with his pelvis making the boy whine louder " fuck fuck just like that y/n" the girl was used to it and kept moving her head up and down as she felt Jungwon whimper her name constantly, almost panting.

Jungwon's hands held the two small pigtails and without thinking he abused her small throat with his swollen cock, in and out constantly causing grotesque sounds, leaving her breathless feeling the precum, his tip touching the end of her throat making her gagging, he tried to move her away but Y/n didn't let him, making him understand that It was okay if he cum inside her mouth, in any case, he didn't have much time to think about it clearly because the sensation was too overwhelming, making him release his seed in less than a second in her warm mouth, she cough and he opened his eyes finding himself cumming in her throat and her face with rosy cheeks, makeup smudged, catching her breath and wiping the remaining semen on her face with her fingers only to lick them in front of him.

He gulp.

She stood up, adjusting her dress, took her panties off so smooth and put them in one of his drawers "try not to cum too much when you think of me" she put her glasses again, fixing her hair a little and leave him in his room half naked, confused and most importantly, horny again.

"i'm fucked up" He said as he fell onto the bed

[stevielicious]

𓆩⟡𓆪 His Little Stripper 𓆩⟡𓆪

pairing- Colby Brock x fem!reader

summary- a stripper catches the eyes of a handsome man, has a lotta fun

warnings- a lil angsty, some hardcore smut lol, cute lil ending

word count- 3k or sum? maybe 4k, LMAO

a/n- been a long time since I’ve written, enjoy

o==[]::::::::::::::::>

The whole studio was bouncing, the bass rhythmically played throughout the club. Swimming inside the walls, almost enticing you in. The night was young and had only just begun, it was a start to a long night. Here, I was treated almost like royalty, all the other dancers liked to roll their eyes or make snarky comments because they didn’t like the way I hogged all the attention, I was young and that’s nothing I could help.

You could say I was a good dancer. One of the best.

Brittney. I only had one friend in this place, the rest would only batter their eyelashes to get a hand on your earnings. Not Brittney though. She was a sweet, honest girl that just needed the extra cash and in complete fairness, that’s what we were both here for. We were both the youngest in this place. University costs an arm and a leg, there’s no lie in that. It was a hated industry, but the world is a tough place to make a living.

“Girl! You gotta get out there! it’s thriving with old dudes that have a TON of money!!” She heaved, slumping on a swivel chair next to mine, with a wide-eyed expression painted across her makeup clad features. I glanced at her through the huge mirrors stuck to the smoke stained walls, with a slight smirk finishing up on my cherry red lipgloss, “Oh yeah? Sounds just like every other night.”

“Well, I did see these couple guys around our age, maybe older, they were sooo hot.” Brittney explained, emphasising their good looks, applying makeup to her smudged areas. She seemed skittish, almost like she was eager to get back out there. This time I’d turned to face her, making my blonde hair a bouncy, wavey look. Being expressive with her hands, matter of factly she had said, “I sooo wished they’d came over to me, that brunette guy was soo handsome, so mysterious too. I’ll have to show you when you get your ass out there! I’d give that man a dance for free any day.”

I giggled, never hearing her talk like this made me believe these men were as handsome as she said they were. Maybe I’ll have to see for myself. I began to slip my cherry red heels on, glancing in the mirror, puffing my hair out. I had styled it in to an 80’s blowout type look, just more modernised. “I believe you girl, it’s been a while since we’ve had a looker come here.”

“Man, you look like a whole full course meal looking like that, Y/N. You have more of a chance than me at getting that handsome devil in a booth. Gosh, you’re so sexy!” Brittney huffed, looking at me with a sad but hopeful expression.

I grabbed her hand, pulling her out of her chair. Cupping her face with my hands, I said with confidence, “God is a woman, and you my friend are a fucking goddess! Now let’s get out there and make some fucking money!” She smiled into my hands as I then spun her around, seeing the sparkles on her little outfit shine.

｡☆✼★━━━━━━━━━━━━★✼☆｡

I stood behind Brittney as she peeped from behind the big, draping, scarlet red curtain that lead out to the runway. A shiny pole awaiting us. Britt had kept an eye on the stage as I was trying to skim the crowd for the one who looks like they had the most cash with them. “Oh! Gabriella’s almost finished her dance, god blue is NOT her colour!”

“Brittney! You have to watch your mouth sometimes, you’ll get in trouble if someone hears you!” I wispered harshly, playfully jabbing her arm. She moved over a little so I could get a better look of the crowd. Taking me by surprise, a pair of striking blue eyes caught my own as I swiftly shut the curtain, almost knocking Britt over, “Holy shit.”

“What? What!” The brunette nudged me out the way as I took a step back, body running cold. I heard her muttering as she closed the curtain as quick as she re-opened it, turning to me. “Oh my God, that’s him!”

“Shut up! I’ve never seen him before, I can’t dance infront of him, he’s too pretty to be here! What’s a guy like him doing here?! God!” I gulped, walking back and forth on myself, finding my nerves getting the better of me of me. God, his dark brown hair and that shiny earring glistening in his ear, the black button up, the shine on his rings and tattooed arms, man. I’m used to dancing for 40+ year old guys, not actual good looking guys my age!

“Are you being serious right now, Y/N? You’re the hottest one here, if Gab’s can flaunt it then you definitely can too!” She exclaimed assertively, stopping me in my tracks, hands on either side of my arms. Pointing her finger in my face.

“Hey sluts, they’re waiting.” A scratchy, unbothered voice had sounded as the clacking of heels sounded down the set of stairs held by the stage. We both rolled our eyes as she swang her hips side to side, sauntering away from us.

“Ugh, whatta bitch.” We muttered in unison, breathing out a laugh. Britt gave me a subtle peck on the cheek, something she always did to calm my nerves before my journey to the pole, “Knock ‘em dead, Y/N”

As she turned my track on, I took a deep breath, pushing my boobs up a little, feeling the deep red lace against my body. Promiscuous sounded, by Nelly & Timbaland. As much as it is a corny song, the boys loved it.

Whipping my hair over my shoulder, I winked at my bestie, and started my walk. The giant curtains opened as I started to strut. The dim lights only lighting up solely on the pole. My confidence returning as my hips swirled to the beat, winking at thirsty men in the crowd. I raised my arms leaning my head back touching my chest.

I made my way over to the center, strutting around the shiny metal pole, caressing it gently. Placing my heels accordingly on the polished platform, stepping on dollar bills everywhere I walked. “Promiscuous girl, you’re teasin’ me. You know what I want and I got what you need.”

I raised my leg on the pole letting my body drape around as my arm held my balance along the pole. As I smoothly came to the bottom of the glistening metal, I spread my legs one infront and one behind, bouncing slightly. Rolling onto my next move, the same pair of blue eyes caught my attention, I couldn’t help but stare for a second, which felt like minutes, as I got behind the pole, he winked at me.

Which took me by surprise as I blushed. I gulped and returned the wink. I blew a kiss at this man, as I slut dropped down the metal shaft, licking up it. Keeping eye contact, his mouth agape. When I grew confidence, I also grew dirty. Giving what these men came to see. “Have all my money!”

One man shouted, another had exclaimed, “I want you to ride my face, please! Be my dirty little girl!” I smiled politely at these men, knowing full well they probably have wives at home, most of them having a ring on their marriage finger. Bastards.

As I danced around the pole, I let my hips do the work, shaking them around in a sexy way. Left to right, innocently dancing. Mouthing the lyrics, shutting my eyes ever so slightly. With my back to the pole now, I had slid down it, mouthing the lyrics, “I’m all alone and it’s you that I want!”

Motioning this handsome blue eyed boy to me with my fingers, in a ‘come here’ type of way. Hoping to entice him, or just playfully tease him. He was leaning against the bar, eyes glued to me. I’ve felt his eyes on me the whole dance. He had this dark smirk on him, looking me up and down with these hungry eyes. Turning his full body towards me now. He mouthed, “Oh yeah?”

In return, I sent an innocent wink his way, with a smile this time. Getting on my feet and swinging around the pole one last time before subtly dropping down, against the cold metal, arching my back as I pushed my hips towards the pole, not letting go. The lights going dark once again as my time came to an end.

I blew the crowd a kiss as I took one last glance toward the bar, the man that had captivated my full attention could not be seen. My heart sank a little as I turned on my heel, forming a strut down the walk as the curtains closed behind me, the money being collected as I had left the stage that I had now earned.

“Eeek! Y/N! You did so good! How am I supposed to follow that performance up?!” Brittney squealed, high fiving me.

“You’ll do even better than me, I’m sure of it!” Giving her praise, she was the one thing that got me through this place, she deserved more confidence. “ I’m gonna take a walk on the floor, gonna get a drink! Go get ‘em tiger!”

As much as I was there for my girl, I desperately wanted to see if this man had stuck around.

｡☆✼★━━━━━━━━━━━━★✼☆｡

Venturing onto the men-riddled floor, I tried to keep my composure. This was when my nerves got the better of me, you’re looked at as a piece of meat when you’re of the floor. Up on the stage, you feel as though everyone’s below you, literally. You’re on top, nobody can touch you up there.

I found myself at the bar, just asking for a lemonade to pass the time, a kind, older woman had served me. She was one of the nicer workers that resided here, “Would you like a cherry in there too, Y/N?”

“You know me.” I softly said, giving her a thankful smile. Some saw me as the baby here and some saw me as the queen. It was a weird place to be, I just appreciated the kind ones. She gave me a wink and went on her way to make me a the simple concoction.

“Y/N. What a name. Pretty, too.” A deep, husky voice sounded from next to me, as I felt his eyes burn into the side of my head. I turned, slowly looking up at him, his tall, dark frame leaning down on me. I gulped. Those familiar blue eyes keeping ahold of my attention, his warm smile sounding, “Hey, I’m Colby.” He took my hand and kissed it gently.

“Y/N. Hey.” I shyly ushered out in one whole breathe, as I glanced down, my hair falling infront of my face. He was gorgeous, a true beauty. I must be lucky for someone like him to be able to approach me.

“Yeah, I know” He chuckled. I blushed as he heard the lady behind the bar already address that. Don’t screw up now girl! “Is that your real name? I know ladies like to have a disguise around here.”

He observantly mentioned, smirking too. I was at a loss for words, Colby was so captivating, I was lost in his celestial, lapis eyes. His chestnut hair cascading infront of his eyes ever so slightly. “It is, does that disappoint you?”

I decided to be honest, maybe he’d find that attractive in its self. After all, he was honest with me. “What? God no, I think you’re stunning, and your names just the cherry on top!”

Colby ironically exclaimed, as my drink was placed infront of me. The lady looked at both me and him and smiled, raising her eyebrows at me. He glanced at my drink, taking the cherry. Swivelling it in his grip, he glanced at me. I looked up at him with my doe eyes, as he popped it in my mouth, plucking the stem from the cherry itself. “Good girl.”

My heart started to race as he reached his hand out, ushering me closer. As I went to take his hand, a loud roguish man approached me, grabbing me by waist, immediately yelling in my face, “Are you gonna dance for me or what? Huh?”

The alcohol definitely playing its part, I glanced to security, they hadn’t seen the commotion yet and my heart was jumping out of its chest. He towered over me demanding, impatiently waiting for an answer. “Sir, please don’t speak to me like tha-“

“I can speak to you how the FUCK I want, don’t you dare think for a second that your better than me or anyone’s gonna save your pretty little ass, you do what I tell you-“ a huge thud landed as I was swiftly pushed back, the man in front of me collapsing to the ground. Colby had lunged at the drunken man. Angered, he had hit him square in the jaw, a tooth rolling around on the floor. A splash of blood on already red heel.

My breath hitched in my throat, still no security in sight, the music too loud for anyone to really give a shit. Colby had picked this man up by his shift, as though he weighed of nothing, he hissed in his face, “Beat it.”

The man was dropped to his feet and quickly scurried away, as if he saw death itself. I watched as he was out of site, a warm touch against my chin snapped me out of the trance I was in. Startled. “Are you okay, beautiful?”

Gazing into his eyes, hard to look away, I stuttered out, “I-uh, yeah. Thank you.” I placed my hand on his chest trying to gain my breath back, it all happened so fast, a boldness took over me, the sheer sign of strength made so effortlessly was almost overwhelming, “Wanna get out of here?”

I felt his heartbeat pick up every so slightly as he huskily said, “Lead the way, Y/N.”

｡☆✼★━━━━━━━━━━━━★✼☆｡

Of all places, I lead him to one of the private booths, the expensive, champagne riddled rooms. I shut the curtains to the room, letting staff know that it was occupied. The curved couch was a sparkly red, that had a pole in the middle as well as a love seat. The circular table had three bottles of champagne in a bucket of ice, recently been placed there. Lights had become dim since I’d closed the curtains and there were little sources of light emerging from under both seats. Colby had poured a drink for me and himself, keeping them set down on the table, he approached me with a smirk on his face, “What brings us here then beautiful?”

“I wanted to thank you back there, you were so brave.” Placing my hand on his chest once again, ever so slightly pushing him backwards, towards the curved seat, trailing my hand downwards. Batting my eyelashes at him with my big doe like eyes, I pouted, “So strong.”

His legs hit the textured couch, falling back on, eyes never straying from mine once. I began to crawl on top of him, in a straddle position, feeling himself twitch underneath me, “I-That was nothing back there, a beautiful girl like you shouldn’t have to take that shit.”

He insisted while taking in my body, my looks. Colbys hands began to travel up and down my lacy, deep red piece, taking it all in, breathing a little heavier than before. Muttering, he shifted a little from under me, looking back up at my eyes, “Fuck.”

Smirking slightly, I leant forward, giving him an eyeful of my cleavage, whispering, “I’ll make you feel good, Colby.” His breath began to hitch as I began to kiss up his jaw, his eyes darkened as he lifted my face, gazing into my eyes. His plump lips were begging to meet mine, he took a quick glance at my lips and mumbled hastily, “You’re making me crazy, beautiful.”

And with that he crashed his whiskey stained lips into my cherry tasted ones. Hunger was taking over and I grew to want him so badly. His great hands found their way to my back, travelling down and cupping me, grabbing me ever so slightly but enough for me to moan into his mouth. He seemed to like that. Swiftly, he took my laced bra off with one quick motion, making me gasp.

My hands got the better of me and I started unbuttoning his shirt, almost frustrated that it wasn’t coming undone quick enough. He pulled away, picking me up, his hands under me, straddling his waist now, “You’re so fucking beautiful.”

The blue eyed boy had laid us down, I was now laying on the love seat, he towered over me, looking me up and down, ready to feast. Colby stood there, with his shirt unbuttoned, his abs glistening from the sweat we had just created. He looked godly in this moment. He quickly took off his jeans, his member almost throbbing to be let out. I gulped as he looked bigger than anything I’d ever seen.

He lowered himself down, and kissed me passionately, still hungry for more. My hands roamed freely, helping him take off his shirt completely. With this motion I quickly flipped us, wanting to be on top of him. I begged, “Let me please you, Colby.”

Impressed at my strength, Colby had stifled a moan as I started to leave hungry kisses down his chest, until I got to his boxer line. I looked up at him through my lashes, as he nodded with approval, removing the clothing. His thick member throbbing. I gulped, taking in his size, he was fucking huge.

“Fuck.” I muttered as I teased him, licking up his shaft, keeping eye contact with him as he propped himself up on his elbows to get a better look. I wrapped my hand around his member, kissing the tip.

I began to take him in my mouth, bobbing my head up and down and sucking slightly, wanting him to feel euphoric. His sweet moans filled my ears, making me work harder for him. Wanting to make him feel better than ever. “You’re such a good girl, Y/N.”

Seeing his eyes roll back as his shaft touched the back of my throat was enough to make me moan, knowing I was doing a good job. I was a good girl. His good girl. Colby’s hand traveled to the back of my head, grabbing my hair slightly bobbing my head. It felt so good. “You like that baby girl?”

I nodded quickly, not wanting to disappoint, all of a sudden feeling really submissive. As I carried on sucking it for a little longer, Colby pulled my hair back and away from him gently making me look up at him, he muttered, “C’mere baby.”

I did as he asked, waiting for what was to come. Colby got on top of me, his chain dangling infront of my face, his arms looking as muscular as ever as he towered over me, I felt completely under his spell and I was more than ready for what he was about to do to me.

He caressed my breasts, with both hands as I started to breath heavier, trying to keep it together. His eyes flickering towards mine and my bare chest, he muttered sweet nothings as he latched onto them, kissing them. Sucking them. I couldn’t help but moan at the way his tongue moved against my body, “Colby!”

“Shh, baby. You sound so fucking good, but we can’t get in trouble now, can we?” He muttered against my breasts, knowing full well we’d get in big trouble as clients weren’t supposed to be touchy let alone all over each other. He was far from being a client, but I would definitely get kicked out immediately for this behaviour. I groaned out of annoyance, frustrated with pleasure. He began to bite them ever so gently, putting my hand over my mouth to shuffle my moans. Colby had made him way down to my panties, asking for approval, granting him access. He swiftly took them off with ease, “Fuck you’re so perfect.”

“Are you ready baby?” He huskily marvelled, admiring the mess he had made me into, touching himself. His hair stuck to his forehead a little, his muscles glistening all over, his tattoos made his aura dark and mysterious but he seemed like a complete utter dream. In response, all I could manage was a swift nod, with impatient, hungry eyes.

He lined his huge member up with my already wet folds, awaiting the small pain that came with it. He came down closer to me, kissing me roughly and pushing himself into me at the same time, causing me to melt into his mouth, both moaning loudly. My hands traveled up to his hair, getting tangled in his locks. His motions were euphoric and heavenly, making my back arch with every move. Colby moaned roughly into my neck, kissing it and nipping at the skin with his teeth, leaving slight bruises as he trailed.

“Fuck, you feel so good Y/N.” My nails scraped along down his back, marking him as equally as he did me. He couldn’t keep back his moans as they sounded through my body. Unwinding. As is pace quickened, my orgasm started to grow nearer. I couldn’t hold it any longer, he was making me feel pleasure like I’ve never felt it before, “Colby, I’m so close!”

“Fuck baby, don’t come until I tell you too. I know you’re a good girl. My good, good girl.” He quickened his pace and became a little rougher with his thrusts, making me into a moaning mess. He couldn’t bring himself to tell me to be quiet anymore, he loved the way he was making me feel. He moved so he could put my legs over his shoulders, making my climax come quicker, “Colby, please!”

“Oh baby, I’m gonna come too.” He muffled tensely, his thrusts getting sloppier, I looked at him with pleading eyes, muttering and begging, Colby looked at me with pleading eyes, “Come for me beautiful.”

With that, I had unleashed my orgasm, coming undone at his command, moaning his name as I rode out my high. I started toying with my breasts to get him closer to his climax, wanting nothing more but the warm fill, “Colby, please come. Please!”

Not even a moment later he came undone too, filling me up with his come. We were both messes, moaning into each other as he collapsed on top of me, pecking my neck as he collected himself. He rolled over to the next of me, putting his arm underneath his head and one out for me to lay on. We were both panting like sick dogs. I propped myself up on my elbow, my head resting against my palm.

“You know, I’ve never seen you in here before.” I muttered, playing with a strand of my hair. I pondered it, because he was a beautiful man, a young man. A man that didn’t suit these kind of places.

“I thought you’d ask, it’s a good friend of mines birthday and we all thought it would be a good surprise to bring him here.” Colby chuckled, looking into my eyes. He reached out for my hand and placed it on his chest, his heart still erratic. “You are beautiful though, Y/N. I meant what I said.”

“Thank you. You’re not too bad yourself.” I giggled, him faking a hurt expression, giving me a pearly white smile, something that made me melt on the spot. His crinkles next to his eyes matching perfectly with his happy looks.

“A pretty girl like you, how’d you end up here?” He looked at me sincerely, wanting to know me a little better. I didn’t think he’d ask, making me feel slightly embarrassed that I have money issues.

“Oh it’s nothing, just- university won’t pay itself, you see.” I said with honesty. glancing down at my hands down, playing with them.

“University? That’s incredible, I can’t imagine how expensive that must be, I guess I can understand.” I looked up at him, he seemed genuine and I melted into his gaze, I gave him a small smile. Appreciating his kind words. Mouthing a ‘thank you’.

“You know,” propping himself up to really look at me this time, grabbing the two glasses of champagne on the table. Handing one to me, “I would really like to take you out, get you away from here eventually.”

“I would really love that.” I blushed, him smirking in return.

“It wouldn’t be classed as inappropriate to maybe cheers to this? A new beginning, potentially?” Him raising a glass.

I giggled, feeling a sense of happiness and fulfilment. Cuddled up with a man you feel like you’ve known forever, chatting, getting to know each other and just sealed a date with, raising a toast to a new beginning. “Cheers.”

｡☆✼★━━━━━━━━━━━━★✼☆｡

a/n- omg I had no plan for this just a thought, one thing led to another and BOOM. hope you enjoyed lol I never know how to wrap up endings

stay sweet x

[irisintheafterglow]

One-Shots

Gojo Satoru

You Are In Love - "you're my best friend," and you knew what it was

...Ready For It? - knew he was a killer first time that I saw him

Hits Different - it hits different 'cause it's you (or, struggling in a situationship with gojo satoru)

Never Grow Up - meeting megumi for the first time

The Archer - all of my enemies started out friends, can he hold on to you?

invisible string - the first time megumi uses ten shadows

even in my worst times, you see the best in me - being the strongest has its downsides, but at least you're suffering with him

life's no fun without a good scare - you have the brilliant idea of playing hide and seek in a corn maze against the most powerful sorcerer in the world. should be fun, right?

it's all me, just don't go (meet me in the afterglow) - satoru is jealous but refuses to admit it.

every dead end street led you straight to me - former fuckboy gojo has some things to say at the top of a mountain

i hate accidents, except when we went from friends to this! - coworkers to lovers with a healthy amount of teenage eavesdropping

he's the death you chose (you're in terrible danger) - married life with husband!gojo means cleaning up bodies at 2am.

Geto Suguru

The Great War - somewhere in the haze, got a sense I'd been betrayed

Back to December - you gave him all your love and all he gave you was goodbye

say you'll remember me - you were destined to fail from the start, so why does it hurt so badly when he's gone?

dazzling haze, mysterious way about you, dear - need some fluff after reading all the angst above?

tell me that you love me, love me 'til my lips turn blue - being partnered with suguru on a mission takes an unexpected turn

what if all i need is you? - after failed attempts to find a date to a relative's birthday party, your best friend acts as your fake boyfriend.

Nanami Kento

of daisies and collisions - nanami kento felt a little out of his element, with a small bundle of flowers sitting in his lap and brooding in the dark corner of the jazz bar. yet, you play that song he likes again, and nothing else matters.

Blurbs/Drabbles

the stakes are high, the water's rough, but this love is ours - holding satoru and letting him rest, even if it's only for a little bit

it took so long to know someone like you - he doesn't know who he is with you and it scares both of you

bad days and blanket burritos - good ol' satoru bf fluff

Imagines/HCs

And the touch of a hand lit the fuse

how gojo and geto react to their partner being obsessed with them (fluffy !!!)

Gojo Satoru

What, like it's hard? -> law student!gojo

general hcs

when he buys a motorcycle

I'm with the band -> rockstar!gojo

rockstar!gojo meet sexyy

the valentine's day show

quiet moments and teaching you guitar

awards show

Falling for you, on and off the ice -> hockey player!gojo

someone steals your usual rink slot

watching a game

living in winter, i am your summer - he's terrible at figure skating

Kachow -> professional racer!gojo

on the radio

smoke his ass! - pro racer!gojo needs some motivation after a newcomer to the track pisses him off

Geto Suguru

oops? - satoru finds out that you've been seeing his best friend

a quiet moment in the aquarium

napping with you :)

scare actor!suguru

Save a horse, ride a cowboy -> gunslinger!suguru

gunslinger!geto au

big iron - he's not the first to go after the crystal-eyed bandit, but something tells you that this one will keep his promise to buy you a drink when the hunting is done.

Theta Phi Fuckhead -> enemy frat!suguru

ancient grudge, new mutiny

move fast, keep quiet

half the things that haven't happened yet

Series Masterlists

End Game (volleyball captain!gojo x you) COMPLETED

Co-Parenting Megumi with Satoru COMPLETED

I Don't Wanna Live Forever (gojo x you during shibuya) COMPLETED

[alienpossession]

My stepson is a rather troublesome kid, especially after his mother's passing. He soon dropped out of college, losing the sense of direction he had and just straight out spiralled into a mess. Not to mention that his coping mechanism involved him to hung out with the wrong crowd and start smoking too despite his mother in the past clearly forbid him since he was a prospective star athlete. He also started to grow agitated to the world and overall just disrespect authorities, which included me as the last person that is bold enough to reprimand him while on his way to do his antics

After one of our early morning argument as he arrived back home from clearly a long night he did doing God knows what, he just stormed into his room after giving me a middle finger and cursed under his breath. I decided that enough is enough and I did what I knew best to handle reckless and wild human like that

You see....I was not from this planet. I arrived around 20 years ago into this farmland where I stumbled with this young studly farmer that just about to start his days. I slid into him and never left his body as I decided that I would be safe and undetected as long as I did not slid out of him while the search for me was still active. I was paranoid that if I ever left this body, suddenly the detection system spotted me so I resisted the temptation to leave and remained hidden inside while controlling this human that I cultivated into the best version it could be. But this little punk really pushed me to my limit. I'm just so desperate trying to prove my humanity and ability to disciplined the smaller and younger human I supposedly have authority over, I pushed myself out and slid into the sleeping body of my stepson. Once I slid in, I went straight to his brain and started to work it while he's sleeping soundly with zero awareness that a far more intelligent being is currently rewiring his organ responsible for free thinking into one filled with obedience and submissiveness. I was not necessarily the expert on brain's anatomy but I know which part I should and should not touch. Once I felt like my job has been precisely executed, I slid out of his brain and entered back to my original vessel.

Now, imagine my surprise that not only I made that punk into a more docile and submissive version of himself, I somehow made him gay too as I checked on him after the rework I did to his brain. And I guess I graced the part where he can pick up aroma even more strongly this time and that caused him to be a musk-whore for everything's sweaty and pungent. His obsession to his own pits clearly were a sight to behold as it was a far cry from his womanizer self I have to witness for the past few years he brought home girls to his bedroom.

Aside from his own self, he also loved me. Not the usual familial love, this boy is clearly fucked in the head as he viewed me as some sort of authority to please. It's like him calling me daddy is laced with sexual innuendo rather than the usual way a kid called up his parents. So, like the good father I am and to avoid getting him jumped on me while I sleep as I didn't satisfy his needs, I decided to change our family time where I asked him to have dinner with me to him sniffing my feet and servicing my needs. It's not as cool (and normal human looking) as having him seated next to me watching the TV together or having warm dinners, but that's the way we live nowadays and not like he's complaining anyway.

I guess I really need to do better with all this brain rewiring

[miniversse]

⭑ “snowbound” ⭑ pt. 1

╰┈➤ OTHER PARTS

⭑ bang chan x female reader

⭑ content includes: drinking, fwb relationship, mentions of sex, non-idol chan, non-idol reader, established relationship, work relationship, drunk confessions, lots of inner talk

⭑ note: i won’t advise you to skip the build up! i’m planning to create a very small series for this idea i had, probably another part or two. lmk what you think!

⭑ minors dni

⭑——————————————————⭑

your hands are wrapped around his hard chest, and your legs were squeezed up to keep you warm from the winter mornings. before your mind could think of what breakfast to make today or what chans schedule will look like, you’re struck with memories of yesterday night, and that you and chan are no longer friends with benefits…

you progressed from taking shots to consuming full soju bottles, you lined them up with his like trophies and admired the late night snowfall. you and chan met through work, and visit after visit, kiss after kiss, you became each-others stress relievers, and you wouldn’t complain about that until yesterday night.

“have you hooked up with anyone else at work?”

the question has been waiting at the tip of your tongue, and the only thing holding you back from asking it was to be respectful and not invasive, but when your on your 3rd bottle of soju, what’s holding you back?

“nope. why do you ask?”

“oh, i was just wondering, ‘yknow”

“yeah, i never got time to meet anyone outside our office block so it’s just been you”

you nod and rest your lips on the mouth of the soju bottle. you sat close to him on his balcony, admiring the light snowfall that coated the city with white and shiny flakes. this moment reminded you of why you loved chris, it wasn’t really for his sex, it was the way his presence filled you with warmth and the desire to always be next to him. you knew you shouldn’t develop feelings because it doesn’t seem mutual, but your lives were harsh. work was demanding and you only got a few hours between each-other to empty your tension.

fuck it

you turn your gaze to him and watch his adam’s apple move with his hearty chugs.

“chris, you think it’s ok if i talk to you ‘bout something?”

“don’t you wanna wait till your sober?”

“yea but, i’ve had this thought for far too long, and i think this way would be easier for me to confess”

he turns his chair to face you and faces forward, giving you his full attention.

“whats up”

you began to feel nervous, and maybe began regretting this empty confidence you shone on him, but you and chan have seen a lot in your lives, so it wouldn’t hurt to see more.

“i’ve been seeing you in a different lens, not one where we get to fuck and call it a day. one where we are together through thick and thin.”

his expression remains the same and he keeps quiet, expecting to hear more.

“i know that it would be a big jump for us, but it could be a better jump.”

you place the soju bottle on your lips and get past a few sips before your stomach begins to turn and twist and your fingers tremble.

he sighs and leans back in the chair, placing his hands in his pockets. you began to look around for your belongings, preparing to be kicked out of his house.

“i brought you over to tell you that i wanted you for more than your body, but i guess it’s useless now”

you’re muscles relaxed, and you felt warmer at his reassurance. you couldn’t help but give him a big smile, trying to keep your cool. he smiled back, the cold smoke sneaking out the creases of his mouth.

“well, i guess that’s out the way.” you laugh, trying to fill in the silence. you haven’t noticed the increasing intensity of the snowfall, so you grab the bottles, ashtray and head inside to lay by chans fireplace.

he settled for a warm shower, but you settled to lying down on his heated hardwood floors, watching the fire dance and crackle as it soothed your bones. chan had given you one of his hoodies to change into to keep warm. the door of his bedroom creeks open, and he walks out in an black t-shirt, plaid pants and socks.

“you’re gonna freeze to death like that! and you haven’t dried your hair?”

he approaches you and lies down next to you, meeting you at eye level. you couldn’t describe how this moment felt. the orange flames casted on his smooth, relaxed face. his hand was placed over yours, his fingers tracing around yours. your body was physically there, but mentally, you and chan were bound, or rather, snowbound.

“i’m fine babe”

you’re brought back to life with three words that left his lonely mouth.

“babe? i never thought i’d hear you call me that”

“and i never thought i’d be laying down next to you by the fireplace, exchanging looks”

you wiggle closer to him, taking in the soft smell of his shampoo being overridden with his strong cologne. your lips follow the scent, and end up landing on his warm neck. he raises his head, giving you more to work with. his hand was settled on your back, bringing you closer and closer till you could feel the heat of his body against yours.

your mouth seemed to be the star of the show now, but that might change.

⭑ PART 2

[mcflymemes]

PROMPTS FOR THE MOST ROMANTIC THINGS TO SAY *  updated version, adjust as necessary

you should be kissed and often, and by someone who knows how.

you are my dearest one. my reason for life.

until my last day, i'll be loving you.

kiss me. kiss me as if it were the last time.

love is a smoke raised with the fume of sighs.

i was swallowed up in an abyss of love in an instant.

you are my heart, my life, my one and only thought.

you are sunlight through a window, which i stand in, warmed.

you are beautiful without knowing it.

anyone who has seen your smile has known perfection.

every atom of your flesh is as dear to me as my own.

i became fascinated by your goodness. i was drawn in by it.

all i want is to deserve you. tell me what to do. i’ll do anything you say.

i will return. i will find you. love you. marry you. and live without shame.

it has made me better loving you.

i see you only with my heart.

i would love to say that you make me weak in the knees, but to be quite upfront and completely truthful, you make my body forget it has knees at all.

i've fallen in love. i didn't think such violent things could happen to ordinary people.

we loved with a love that was more than love.

i find myself choosing you, more and more every day.

i can’t sleep, i can’t eat, i can’t do anything but think about you.

we are asleep until we fall in love.

you want the moon? just say the word, and i'll throw a lasso around it and pull it down.

i cannot let you burn me up, nor can i resist you.

i believe in you completely.

a hundred hearts would be too few to carry all my love for you.

love is never a waste of time.

when i am gone, my love, do not look for me in the places we used to go together. look for me in the places we always planned to go together.

i’ve hungered for your touch.

you must allow me to tell you how ardently i admire and love you.

when you fall in love, it is a temporary madness.

i’ve tried so many times to think of a new way to say it, and it’s still i love you.

my soul and your soul are forever tangled.

in all the world, there is no heart for me like yours. in all the world, there is no love for you like mine.

the first time ever i saw your face, i thought the sun rose in your eyes.

i wish i had done everything on earth with you.

if you remember me, then i don’t care if everyone else forgets.

you are, and always have been, my dream.

i love that you are the last person i want to talk to before i go to sleep at night.

come near now, and kiss me.

when will i hold you again?

it’s always better when we’re together.

you were the only thing in my life that was real.

in your smile i see something more beautiful than the stars.

when i saw you i fell in love, and you smiled because you knew.

you complete me.

i wanted it to be you. i wanted it to be you so badly.

i think i’d miss you even if we never met.

love is a friendship set to music.

i never want to stop making memories with you.

every time i see you, i fall in love all over again.

do i love you? my god, if your love were a grain of sand, mine would be a universe of beaches.

we kiss like we invented it.

i can’t smile without you.

now you're my whole life. now you're my whole world.

you're every minute of my every day.

maybe it's our imperfections that make us so perfect for one another.

i can't see anything i don't like about you.

[kdogreads]

Richie Jerimovich NSFW Alphabet

Co-written with the incredible @foreveraimingtowardsthesky

Thank you so much for collabing on this, my friend! It’s been a longtime coming but here we are 🤪😍

Enjoy this look into our wildest delulu fantasies with our bb Richie. This was a 50/50 project and still took us forever so please APPRECIATE IT 😂❤️

A — Aftercare

There is nothing Richie loves more than smoking a cigarette with you in his arms after he blows your mind. He’s trained to read people and you are no exception. He’ll help you clean up then he’ll cuddle you, or kiss you silly, or light you a joint, or brush your hair for you. Whatever you need this time, he’s on it.

B – Body part (favourite of yours and theirs)

Richie likes - no loves - your mouth. The way your lips close around a cigarette plucked from his hand, the wet heat of it when his fingers press against your tongue, how you open up so readily for him when you’re on your knees, the sharp indent of your teeth in your lower lip when you’re trying to be quiet.. Yeah, he could lose hours dreaming of your mouth, thinking of new ways he can make it his. Spit in it. Gag it. Have you clean him up with your tongue..

C — Cum

Richie can be nasty. He wants to cum on your face, your chest, your ass, literally anywhere he can. It’s his way to mark you as his without leaving hickies or anything, ever the practical thinker. His favorite by far, though, if you’ll let him, is to cum inside you. Chef’s kiss.

D – Dirty secret

Richie has fucked, or tried to fuck, too many short-lived staff at The Beef to mention. But that’s no secret. In fact, there’s really only one thing he hopes never gets out. Luckily for him, she feels the same way. Chalk it up to the effects of grief and alcohol, explain it away however you like, but if word got round? I don’t think her little brother would ever get over it.

E — Experience

Honestly, Richie doesn’t have a ton of experience with different partners, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t treat you R I G H T. He’s only had a couple relationships besides you and Tiff and maybe he brought home a girl from the bar once or twice before you. This man is a very, very fast learner, though. It doesn’t take him long to learn every little thing that drives you wild and he’s more than willing to experiment with what you like (always with permission first).

F – Favourite position

Richie wants to see. He wants to see his cock sinking into you. He wants to see your face when you come. He wants to see the rise and fall of your chest and he wants to see his hands on your body. Richie also wants to bend you over and fuck you from behind. He likes how it makes you whine when he pulls your hips back as he fucks into you.

So he fucks you on your knees in front of the mirror on his bedroom wall, drags his fingers through your gathered slick and rubs the mess across your tight little asshole, his thumb circling and circling and circling before pushing inside. Like this he can watch as he fills you up, and see your fucked-out face as you fall apart.

G — Goofy

Our Richie is a big goofball in every aspect of his life and sex is no exception. He loves being able to laugh with you and tease you while he’s inside you or eating you out. One day he gets it in is mind that you have to call him Mr. Jerimovich as like a demeaning/authoritative thing, but when you actually call him that, he cracks up laughing. Cannot keep a straight face for the life of him. “It sounds like you’re talkin’ to my fuckin’ granddad. Too fuckin’ weird for me, baby, m’sorry.”

If he’s had a rough day, though, and needs to take it out on you, it’s all serious. No jokes, no laughing, no teasing. He just takes when he needs from you — and of course makes sure you have a good time, too.

H – Hair

How well groomed is Richie? Richie is a low-maintenance, one-bottle-in-the-shower guy. He keeps his hair and his beard short, that’s his look. Once upon a time, he got clippers and a beard trimmer for Christmas, so he does this himself, and every so often the rest of him will get the trimmer treatment. He’s not super hairy but he likes how his dick looks bigger after. He’s only human, after all.

He’s clean, but not meticulous. He doesn’t mind things getting a bit.. dirty. And if you’re honest with yourself, you sometimes like him best at the end of a long day. A little sweaty, a little rough around the edges, his skin tasting like salt and cigarette smoke.

I — Intimacy

Richie the cuddle master, am I right? He loves physical affection and just being close to you. If you’re having a slow, sweet love session, he’ll hold your face and tell you the stickiest sweet things you’ve ever heard in your life. “You were made for me, baby. I was made f’you” and “You’re so beautiful, sometimes I can’t believe you’re mine” and “I love you so much my heart fuckin’ hurts.” Loves eye contact, loves holding your hands, loves loving you basically.

Talks you through it. Big time. He’s in his daddy era and he’s desperate for his baby to cum. 🥵

J – Jerk off

In a word. Yes. In the shower most mornings. It’s a Pavlovian response now. Routine. The hot shower spray. The steam. His hand wrapped round his cock.

But he’s seen the way your breath catches. When he’s knelt between your spread legs. When he drags it out just a little longer, his fist working over his cock as though he prefers it to your pretty pussy. How your eyes follow the movement of his hand as he makes you wait, how your tongue darts out against the softness of your lips..

Until finally - - You like watchin, huh? Your face had heated under his scrutiny, but you couldn’t deny it. And since then? Pictures. Videos. Whenever you’re apart for while and sometimes even when you’re not. His hand sliding over his hard dick, slow at first, then faster. You can hear his breathing, all the bitten off sounds he makes - - fuck. Sometimes it’s a piece of your underwear that he’s ruined, the sheets, his shirt. Sometimes come splashes hot against his tense belly. It’s insanely hot. It makes you ache for him. And he knows it.

K — Kinks

This man will shock you with just how freaky he can get. Choking, gun play, knife play, slapping, daddy/sir, tying you up/getting tied up, he’s into it all. Something you’ve always wanted to try? He’s down. It doesn’t always have to be super kinky stuff, though. Sometimes he’s in the mood to make love to you and, when he is, he’s the stickiest sweet lover you’ve ever had.

Once he discovers the the free use concept, it’s his favorite. “Don’t let me stop ya, baby. You keep workin’ on that,” while he proceeds to fuck you into a different universe. 🥵

L – Location

Anywhere. At the restaurant when everyone else has gone home (that reservations desk is his in more ways than anyone else knows). In his car, where there’s just enough room for you to straddle his lap in the driver’s seat. Up against the wall in some dark corner when he just can’t wait. On the couch, forgotten movie in the background. The kitchen counter in the middle of a lazy weekend breakfast. In the shower, the pretty noises you make bouncing off the tiles. In your bed. In his bed.

That’s probably his favourite. His bed. When you’re waiting for him at the end of a long day in his bed. Wearing his shirt. Your perfume on his pillows.

M — Motivation

YOU. Richie is such a romantic at heart and, if you’re his, he wants nothing more than to make you happy any way he can. He loves to hear you whine and moan for him or squirm under his touch. Part of him selfishly loves knowing he can make you feel better than anyone else ever has. He loves making you forget all your worries with his fingers or his mouth or his cock. He gets off just by knowing how satisfied he can make you.

N – No

It’s a short list, but anything you’re not into is at the top of it. You can also add to that anything too elaborate. Role play’s fine just nothing too fuckin weird alright.And he doesn’t need a red room of sex shit, doesn’t need whips and chains when his tie looks so pretty around your wrists, when his belt drags so nicely against your skin.

O — Oral

You mean Richie “could eat pussy for three meals a day” Jerimovich?? He LOVES oral. As much as he loves feeling your lips wrapped around him, he loves feeling you squirm under his tongue even more. He’ll have you pinned down with his arms begging him for a break at any chance he gets. Giving is his favorite, but he loves receiving, too.

He loves when you give him road head. Loves it. Only when it's late at night and you're alone on the back roads, though. He knows just what you're thinking when you reach a hand over coyly and scratch your nails along his thigh. A silly grin spreads across his face and he gives you a subtle nod to encourage you. By the end he's usually pulled over somewhere with both hands in your hair and a plan in place for when you get home...

P – Pace

He can go slow. If that’s what you need. He likes how he can feel everything when he takes his time, but it wears away at his self control and he didn’t have much to begin with. You like to ride him, achingly slowly, stretching his restraint as far as it’ll go before it snaps, before he grips your hips and fucks up into you, or until he flips you over and fucks you through the bed.

Q — Quickie

Are you kidding me? Richie loves quickies. Possibly his favorite thing in the world. Just finished dinner service? He’ll fuck you in the alleyway. Popped in to say hi while you’re running errands? He’ll bend you over Carmy’s desk. Even just going about your day at home he’ll come up behind you in the kitchen and pull you up onto the counter. Any chance he has to get you off he’ll take.

R – Risk

Is Richie a risk taker? Yeah. He gets a kick out of the possibility that the two of you might get caught. Actually no, he gets a kick out of you getting so fucking greedy and needy for him that you’ll let him touch you, let him fuck you, where anyone might see. His hand between your legs under the restaurant table, his mouth on your breasts in the cool evening air, your back against the wall and legs round his waist, your body pressed to the high rise window of the nicest hotel room he could afford. It fuels his possessiveness. You’re his and he wants everyone to know it.

S — Stamina

Richie isn’t as young as he used to be, but he uses what energy he has wisely. In his younger days he could go at it for hours, but nowadays his poor achey back can’t take more than one, maybe two rounds. He gets you off more times than you can count before he even thinks about fucking you, so don’t let his old age scare you.

Just because his body gets tired faster doesn't mean his sex drive has gone down, though, so don't you worry about that.

T – Toys

The first time Richie caught you with your favourite toy, he’d watched from the doorway with a dangerous mix of jealousy and want. You’d pulled the toy from your body when you saw him, but he’d shook his head and something in the look in his eyes made your mouth go dry and your stuttered explanation die in your throat. – - Don’t stop. He’d climbed onto the bed, sat back against the headboard and pulled you to his chest between his spread legs. - - keep going.. s’it feel good? .. feel better than me, huh? - - you’d said no, but he’d slapped your hand from the toy anyway, taking it from you and mimicking the movements he’d watched earlier, but harder, faster, more him. And he’d liked the way you’d surrendered control so easily, the way your head fell back against his shoulder, how your fingers twisted into the fabric of his sweats. And it occurred to him that he could keep this up for hours..

U — Unfair

Richie is a little shit… of course he loves teasing you. He’ll send you dirty texts all day while you’re at work and get you all hot and bothered. Then he’ll edge you for what feels like hours if he feels like it. He always leaves you satisfied after his fun, though, he is a gentleman after all.

When he first discovered what his "harmless" teasing does to you... Oh man. It's like he can't stop now. He'll pull you into the office at work just to whisper dirty things in your ear.

"You look real pretty tonight baby," He leans in to kiss your neck, hands wandering all over your body, "Fuuuck, you want daddy to take care of you, hm? Touch you? Make you scream so everybody knows who you belong to, yeah?" Swoon.

V – Volume

Richie has the dirtiest mouth in all of Chicago. He remembers the first time he’d called you his good fuckin girl. He remembers because you came hard and tight and wet before the words had barely left his mouth. Now he won’t fucking shut up. And you love it like that. But the best thing? There’s this noise he makes when he’s close to losing it. A filthy low groan as everything begins to unravel. It might be the hottest thing you’ve ever heard.

W — Wildcard

Richie definitely has a thing for public sex. The thrill of potentially getting caught, having to show off his pretty baby to whoever catches you… He can’t help it if he wants to show you off and make it clear just who belong to.

X – x-ray

What’s going on in those tighty whiteys? He’s not gotten any complaints. Well, no, that’s not quite right. He’s gotten loads of complaints. Just not about his dick. If he was the type of guy to be heading down the gym (although lets face it, he isn’t ) he wouldn’t need to be shy in the locker room, if you catch my meaning. Alright, alright.. it’s big. You happy now?

Y — Yearning

He may be in his 40s but his sex drive is stronger than ever. He always wants you. Richie is just insatiable sometimes. It’s like he can’t believe you are his to take care of and please whenever he wants to and he does.

Z – zzzz

He’s not even stayed awake long enough for you to read the end of this. Sorry. But let’s be fair, he’s a hard working guy and he’s had his fair share of sleepless nights. So you can’t begrudge the fact that he sleeps like an angel (an angel splayed across 75% of the bed, but still..) once you’ve both had your fill. Now roll him over before he starts snoring.

[sluttysnowangel666]

The Song of Blackwoods & Brackens: Chapter 15

masterlist

Chapter 15: The Battle of the Burning Mill

cw: graphic depictions of war

𐂃 𐂃 𐂃 𐂃

I didn't know how I got there. All I knew was that these moments were about to be my last.

Everything had happened so quickly. The situation spiraled out of control before I even realized it was occurring.

Smoke was everywhere, bodies were everywhere. I couldn't walk without stepping on someone. I knew I was going to die. I could barely walk, could barely see.

I could live with dying. I made my bed, I'm ready to lie in it.

He and I were doomed from the start. I loved him; It ruined my life.

———

"I wish I could keep my hands off of you." Benjicot says, kissing my forehead repeatedly.

"Touch me all you want, Benji. We've got a month of time to make up for." He smiles, continuing to plant gentle kisses on me.

He holds me close, our bodies still wet and cold from the water. "Does something trouble you?" He asks.

I sigh, "How could you tell?" I pause for a moment. "I just... I curse the Gods for making me as they did."

"What do you mean?"

"A Bracken." I say, saddened. "A Bracken woman."

I turn to face him before continuing, "I want to love you freely with no consequence. I want to stay in bed all day and eat cake with you. I want my brother to love me, despite what I'm doing to our house, to my duty."

"Fuck duty." He says.

"I wish we could just run away together. Live here, hunt, fight, fuck, build our land, maybe our own new house... A family."

"What would you name our house?" He asks.

"Brackwood." I jest, and he laughs.

"You truly do something strange to my heart, my lady." He says. "I think we should return. Midday is nearly upon us."

He pulls me up. We dress and begin our walk back. I don't know why, but I feel an impending sense of doom.

We make it back to the edge of the woods, when Benjicot pulls me in for a tight kiss.

"I love you, my lady." He whispers into my lips. "I've loved you since the day I met you."

"I love you in return, Lord Blackwood."

We part, painfully, like getting a limb cut off during a fight.

I make my way back to the castle, and my heart sinks at the sight before me.

My brother's horse, my uncles carriage, and... a Lannister carriage.

"Oh, no. Oh, Gods no." I whisper to myself. I turn to run, but I turn right into the arms of my uncle.

I gasp in shock, I try to break from his arms but he has me tight.

"Uncle-"

"Be quiet!" He yells. I immediately burst into tears. My uncle curses and drags me into Stone Hedge as I cry and fight and drag my feet.

He covers my mouth to keep the Lannister lords from hearing me sob as we pass the council chambers. He opens my door and shoves me inside to the floor.

"I've had enough of this. You will get out of your brother's clothes this instant or I will cut them off you myself, get you in that bloody dress, and let that Lannister wed and bed you here and now!"

"You wouldn't dare!" I scream at him through tears. He unsheathes his sword.

"Is this how you dare treat the Lady of House Bracken?" I yell as he yanks me by my arm, using his sword to rip through the fabric of the back of my tunic. "Your own brother's daughter?"

He turns me around, forcing me to look upon the most angriest stare I'd ever seen from his eyes. He raises his hand, and lands a cold, harsh slap across my cheeks. I fall to the floor, holding my cut cheek from his ring in pain. "You are to never speak to me of my brother again, or I will have your head. Fuck the Lannister alliance, I will behead you myself."

He waits, but when I say nothing he exits my chambers; My cheek bloody, my clothes ripped, everything perfect beginning to fall apart.

My sadness began to grow into anger. I was so stupid. I did this to myself. It was mine own fault for falling in love with him. I should've just left when I had the chance,

married the Lannister. I hated this place, I hated my brother for never caring, my uncle for the same, the servants, the handmaidens, the other lords. All they did was watch and let it happen.

I stood up and stormed outside, but the guard my uncle placed outside my door grabbed my wrist.

"Let me go. This will be your only warning."

He laughed. "Your uncle said you weren't to leave this room... He said I could use any force I wanted to keep you here."

I unsheathed my sword. He was quick, but I was quicker. With one shove I slammed my sword into his stomach. He fell to his knees, the blood eliciting gurgling, choking sounds as he began to drown in his own blood.

He fell on his face, dead.

I had killed my first man.

While I didn't know it yet, I would kill hundreds more in less than an hour.

I went outside, straight to the boundary stones. My tunic was almost ripped entirely, revealing my whole backside, but I didn't care. I was fuming with so much anger, fear, adrenaline. Nothing would stop me. I was going slightly mad.

I began moving the stones, one by one, by myself. Nothing was about to get in my way.

"Aeron!" I turn and look, to see some Bracken men walking towards me. "You moving the bloody stones again?" They ask laughing.

"Yes." Is all I respond. They begin to help, and I don't make any attempt to stop them. Within 10 minutes, there's a small enough clearing for the cattle to walk through. I chase them with my sword, herding them to the Blackwood land.

Twenty minutes pass of me sitting with the men along the stones, talking.

"Can you even get that thing up?" One of them asks about my sword.

"Well enough for killing Blackwoods." I say, and they laugh.

And then the sweetest voice, like a siren song to my ears, yells in anger.

"BRACKEN!"

I turn and look, unphased. I knew it would be him to come. No one else got more upset over the stones being moved than he did.

His eyes soften. He looks me up, confused at my disheveled appearance. He continues anyway, angry even more so now that he knows I messed with the stones.

"Put the boundary stones back." He says, stern, but not harsh. His way of warning me.

"We didn't move them!" I say, marching towards him.

"Oh, did they move themselves then? Just rolled their way over so Bracken cows can fill their bellies on Blackwood grass?"

"The assize of Riverrun-"

"Fuck the assize," He says, exasperated. "and fuck you. This is our land."

I look at the men behind him, weighing my options, then I look back to him.

"It's Bracken land." His eyes fume with anger, yet he's utterly confused if this is a jest. Was I alright? Everything had been such a dream this morning. He wondered what the bloody hell happened between then and now.

I ignore the snarl on his face and turn to walk away. "Babe killer." I mutter, loud enough for him to hear.

"What did you say?!" He knows it's no longer a jest now. I'm, for some reason, being serious. What he can't figure out is why. He's concerned, yet angry with my blatant disrespect. I stop, nodding my head. Will I do it? Do I dare begin this game?

I turn.

"Your false Queen Rhaenyra is a kinslayer."

He hides the shock in his eyes. Benjicot was fading, and Bloody Ben was returning. He's done with this bullshit game. If I'm willing to roll the dice, he's willing to take the gamble.

"Your uncle declared for Aegon... Did he?" He steps towards me. I say nothing. "Well, then. Let me tell you Aegon Targaryen is no true king."

He steps closer, mere inches away from my face. "Just as you... are no true knight."

I'm fuming, as is he. "You're both craven..." A shove to my chest, "Little..." another. "Cunts!" A final harsh shove, pushing me back into one of the Bracken men.

I unsheathe my sword, aiming it towards him.

He laughs, a frightening laugh, filled with anger and resentment. His lips curl into a smile and he glides his tongue over this teeth. "You wouldn't dare."

Is it a threat, or a plead not to do it?

"Y/N..." He whispers a quiet plea so only I can hear. The clarity began to hit me, the way he said my name like that. I had lost myself for a moment.

I lowered my sword, but it was too late.

One of the men behind me swung at one of the Bracken men, and from there it turned into a ballroom blitz.

The men around us began fighting, swinging their swords. The sound of the metal clashing was deafening.

Someone went to swing their sword at Benji, and I reflected it with my own. The man pushed me aside, shoving me into the boundary stone. I hit my head hard, immediately going dizzy. I touched the warm liquid seeping down my face, and turned to see Benji had struck down the man who pushed me.

He came to me, pulling me on my feet. "We have to go now."

More and more fights began breaking out. For every Blackwood that showed up, another Bracken did as well. The field was becoming surrounded with men, horses were whining, trying to avoid the cross fire. My uncle and brother run up, swords unsheathed, Lannister men hot on their heels.

"Go, now!" Benji yells at me, his voice is fuzzy due to the ringing in my ears.

"I won't leave your side." I yell.

"Y/N, no one is surviving this, go!" He shoves me behind him as my uncle approaches.

"Y/N?" Aeron asks, "What the hell are you doing?"

The fighting around us doesn't cease, in fact it grows, spreading like wildfyre.

"Aeron-"

"Your sister has been ruling in your stead, pretending to be you, Aeron." My uncle yells over the fighting. Aeron grows angry. He unsheathes his sword, going to step around Benji.

"Don't touch her." Benji warns, shoving Aeron back. Aeron stares, shocked.

"What in the Gods names have you done, Y/N?" My uncle asks, immediately understanding everything that has happened while he's been gone.

"Aeron." My uncle starts, "Bring me her head."

"Aeron, my blood, please." I beg.

He sighs, sadly. His voice cracks at his words, "I hope you'll forgive me, sister."

I shove past Benji, sword in my hand, raising it to fight my brother.

"Y/N!" Benji yells, preparing to swing at Aaron.

"Benji, stay back!" I command him. He's terrified to follow that order, but he does.

"Brother, listen to me-"

"How could you betray our family?" He sobs, our swords clashing together.

"We never were a family!" I yell in anger. "You don't know what he's done to me! You never cared! But, I still love you, brother! Please stop this." I cry.

Aeron brings his sword down, slicing it right down my eye.

I fall to the ground, screaming in agony. Blood poured down my face. I was blind. My brother, my twin, had cut out my eye.

Time slowed, yet the next events transpired so fast.

I looked up with my good eye, my brother standing over me, Benjicot with his sword slowly raising, ready to shove it into Arron's back.

My brother cocks his sword back, ready to take my head clean off. I take my hand off my eye, picking up my sword with both hands. It nearly slips from all the blood.

I shove it into my brother's stomach.

The world goes silent. Everyone watches. I just killed the heir to Stone Hedge.

I sob, and pull out my sword. His hands move to his stomach, and he falls to his knees in front of me.

"My blood." I sob, cradling his head in my hands. "I'm so sorry."

"Sister..." His bloody hand reaches up to cradle my bloody cheek. "I am sorry... Sorry I wasn't... a better brother."

He coughs, spitting up blood. I pull him into my lap, sobbing. "We... were born into this world, my sister, but we were never meant to die together."

He closes his eyes, and they never reopen. I sob, cradling his body to my chest. I kiss his head. My childhood best friend, the one I played with, who raised me until my Uncle took him under his possessive control.

"You dare mourn him, when this is your bloody fault. You killed the heir, you whore. You're no true Bracken."

I look up at my uncle, my chest rising and falling with intense anger. Tears fall from my eye.

Benji stares at me, fearful of the woman he loved turning into a mad man before him.

I stand, my brother's body lying at my feet. The fighting continues.

"Kill them all!" I cry out, "Kill every fucking Bracken and Lannister until their line is dead!"

"Get back, Y/N!" Benjicot yells, shoving my arm down to keep me from raising my sword.

"Stand back, My Lord!" A Lannister yells, standing in front of my uncle with his sword drawn.

Bodies start dropping like flies, and in the chaos I lose sight of my uncle. Benji fights behind me the whole time, both of us protecting each other's backs.

I suffer a severe blow to my leg, the gash is deep, making it near impossible to walk on.

"My Lady, you must go immediately." Benjicot says, holding me up to keep me from falling.

"Find my fucking uncle." I mumble.

"It's over! You must go! I will finish this for you, that I swear, My Lady."

I shove him off me, balancing on my good leg. "Don't lose sight of who you are, Y/N. Go now, before it's too late."

"My brother is gone. I will kill my uncle, even if it kills me."

"Then I'm sorry for what I'm about to do." Benji says, holding his sword towards me.

"Why are you protecting him?!" I yell.

"I'm protecting you! Don't be a fool! I will not lose you!"

"Do what you must." I say, raising my sword back. He sighs. I give him one last look, blood covers him from head to toe.

"Don't. Don't make me do this." He begs.

"I always knew you were a cunt, Blackwood." I say. He cries, red tears falling down his cheeks.

"Please. I'm begging."

I swing my sword at him, but he blocks it. The unfortunate part for him is he trained me. I know his moves. I know how to best him.

We fight. I fume with rage, he cries in sadness, both of us mourning who we were just a day ago.

I swing, but he knocks my sword out of my hand and sneaks upon me from the right, where my eye no longer could see him. He grabs my wrist, and I gasp.

"I'm sorry, Y/N."

Everything goes dark.

[waiting-for-motivation]

jealousy, jealousy

summary: A night out with the wolfpack at 79s takes a turn as the bad batch enters the bar, and a certain sniper flirts with Wolffes medic.

pairings: Commander Wolffe x Reader, Sinker, Boost, Crosshair

warnings: alcohol, unspoken feelings, fluff, cross smokes

words: 1351

MASTERLIST REQUEST RULES

His arm rests on the back of her chair, his fingers play with a strand of her hair. In this crowded bar, they share a few moments alone. Wolffe just enjoys (Y/n) calming presence, while they both keep an eye on his brothers on the dance floor. There is no need for much talking. The night is perfect.

“How is your forearm?“, (Y/n) asks over the loud music and takes a sip from her colourful cocktail. She throws a glance at the Commander next to her. With a grin on his lips, Wolffe rolls up the sleeve of his leatherjacket to reveal a bandage. It‘s clean white.

“Thanks to your skillful hands it doesn‘t hurt at all“, Wolffe answers with a wink and lets his sleeve cover the bandage once again. Two days ago, he stepped inside the med bay with blood dripping from his arm. (Y/n) instantly ran to take care of him, her touch immediately soothing his pain. Now the worry leaves her eyes. “It will soon be only another battle scar to add to my collection.“

There is a sad smile on (Y/n)s lips as she turns her body towards Wolffe, reaching a hand for his face. Out of instinct, he leans backwards but knowing he can trust her, he let‘s her rest her hand on his cheek. Slowly, (Y/n) caresses the bottom of his facial scar.

“I‘m so sorry this had to happen to you, all of this“, she whispers, barely understandable over the loud music. A shiver runs over her whole body as she notices Wolffes delicate touch on her lower back, pulling her closer.

“I‘m not, otherwise I would have never met you“, Wolffe returns with a soft gaze and leans forward carefully. He closes his eyes as they are so close they can feel the other’s breath. For a millisecond their lips meet, but then a loud scream interrupts their intense moment.

“What the kriff are they doing?“, (Y/n) asks confused as she has now turned all the way around to take a better look at the crowd. In the middle are two clones, most likely Boost and Sinker, singing loudly. One is sitting on the others shoulders and waves his shirt in the air.

For a few seconds Wolffe remains the way (Y/n) left him, with closed eyes and an halfway opened mouth. Then he gives his brothers a death glare. “I‘ll get them and you better organise a few glasses of water, love.“

Wolffe will have the boys on cleaning duty for the rest of their lives for destroying this sweet moment between him and his medic. He waited too long for this kiss to happen to have his brothers interrupt it. Clenching his fists, Wolffe pushes through the crowd towards Sinker and Boost, grabbing them by their necks and throwing them on two chairs.

“You two will drink some water and then go back to our barracks, end of discussion“, Wolffe growls at his brothers who watch him with wide eyes. Then, without reason, Sinker and Boost start laughing like maniacs. They can‘t take anyone serious, until (Y/n) returns with two glasses of water.

“As your medic and friend I want you guys to drink this water, please“, (Y/n) says as she places the glasses in front of Sinker and Boost. She bats her eyes sweetly at the two and watches them gulp down their water in one go. Stepping behind them, she places her hands on their heads to get their attention once again. “And apologise to your Commander. I‘ll get some fresh air.“

Wolffe watches (Y/n) disappear in the crowd, then looks back at his brothers who are already planing something foolish once again. While Sinker is trying to balance the two empty glasses on his forehead, Boost stands up to return to the dance floor. Wolffe forces him back on the chair and takes the glasses from Sinker.

“I‘m done with you di’kuts. You are on cleaning duty for the rest of the year and you will take all the night shifts“, Wolffe lets his anger free and takes a seat in front of his brothers. They are silent now, knowing they have done something severely wrong. Although they might be drunk, they can put one and one together. Something did, or more likely didn‘t happen between their Commander and medic.

“I think we cockblocked our Commander“, Sinker realizes and laughs erratically with his brother. Wolffe can only sigh and hide his face in his hands, no longer wanting to be a witness to their stupid conversations. He would rather have different company, so his mind wanders once again to (Y/n), wondering what takes her so long.

Finally stepping outside, (Y/n) takes a deep breath and leans against the next wall, closing her eyes. Although she really enjoys every free second with her battalion, 79s can be a bit too much once in a while. Her peaceful moment gets interrupted by smoke filling her lungs and making her cough. She throws a death glare towards the man, but he doesn‘t seem to mind.

“You know that will kill you“, (Y/n) mumbles, not really expecting the soldier to actually answer her. He is taller than most clones, but his facial features give away his true heritage.

“I don‘t think I will grow old enough to experience that, doll“, the clone smirks with the cigarette inbetween his lips. He walks towards (Y/n), crowding her against the wall. After taking one last long drag, Crosshair crushes the cigarette under his boot.

Lowering her gaze in shame and remembering the clones accelerated ageing, (Y/n) almost awakens some pity in Crosshair. He places a finger under her chin and forces ehr to look him in the eyes. “Don‘t worry, this is nothing new to all of us, but this also means that we can appreciate moments like this more.“

(Y/n) widens her eyes and presses her lips together, surprised by how forward this clone is. A quick look towards his shoulder, reveals a small skull on a red plate. This clone must be part of the famous clone force 99, their sniper at the looks of it.

Before Crosshair can make another move on the girl, another clone exits the bar with a stern expression which quickly forms into a frown. “Hands off, Crosshair!“ Rather slowly, Crosshair removes his hand from (Y/n)s face and turns his attention towards a jealous Wolffe.

“Commander, didn‘t take you for the party type“, Crosshair comments as he places a toothpick between his lips. His gaze moves from the medic next to him to the furious Wolffe clenching his fists. He realizes there is something unspoken between them and his instinct tells him to leave them alone, so he winks one last time at (Y/n) and then enter 79s to join his brothers.

“Cocky di‘kut“, Wolffe mumbles and leans against the wall close to (Y/n). She only throws a disapprovingly look at him, then watches the city in front of them. Why would Wolffe act like that? She was only talking to Crosshair. Maybe the sniper was closer to her than needed, but that didn‘t bother her.

Their shoulder touch, so she can feel Wolffe taking a deep breath to gather his courage. Wolffe steps in front of (Y/n), standing exactly where Crosshair stood a few moments ago. One arm still supports him, his hand resting right next to (Y/n)s face. As Wolffe opens his mouth to confess, he can almost see the realisation in (Y/n)s eyes. She finally understands why he got so angry about Crosshair. Wolffe was jealous.

Without wasting another second, (Y/n) jumps forward into Wolffes embrace and finally presses her lips to his. Both her hands find their place on his cheeks, while he wraps his arms around her, pulling her impossibly closer. They have their kiss at last, and not even Sinker and or Boost could interrupt this perfect moment. They won‘t part that easily now.

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