#Hair Straightening Comb for Men

[ozymoron]

i wanna fuck season 1 spencer so bad fr hes sooo dorky looking

like when he was talking to morgan that one time and he was like "why will no one date me :(" like babygirl im literally right here like hello literally look over here im yelling and screaming and waving my hands like please

[beneathashadytree]

RESPONSIBLE DADS - LOVE AND DEEPSPACE MEN X READER

Warnings : autistic!Zayne with his autistic daughter, all of them are girl dads here (except for Xavier who has twins), cuteness-aggression bites, one mention of a gun (no one is harmed!), no mentions of pregnancy (their kids can be interpreted as biological or adopted), this isn’t proof-read, reader is gender-neutral!

Genre : so much domestic fluff ☹️🫶🏽

Word count : 2.3K words (holy shit???)

Additional notes : This is a combination of two asks I’d received a month or two ago about the LNDS men as dads while their partner is away, and Zayne in particular struggling with his own autism vs his child’s autism. The brain rot was real in this one😭 To anyone else reading this, my requests are still closed!! These are just old requests I had in my inbox🫶🏽

Tip jar!

Masterlist

“She went down without much of a fuss,” Zayne said, slowly closing the bedroom door behind him as he set his phone on the dresser and got ready for bed over the video call, despite the time zone differences. He’d tried to convince them to just let themself rest instead of staying up past 3 AM, but they’d paid him no mind and insisted on seeing him last thing before bed.

They hummed, watching him slip out of his button up through their screen with a fond gaze. “She is really quiet compared to what I’ve heard about kids her age.”

In the midst of folding his shirt, he paused, a slight crease between his eyebrows. “A little too quiet.” At his concerned face, they straightened up in their seat and leaned in closer to their phone. “I think… she has difficulty connecting with me.”

Their expression was unsure at that. “I don’t know, Zayne. You know she loves you…”

“I do,” was his swift answer, pausing as he pulled his pyjama shirt over his head, then popping out with his hair adorably mussed. “But maybe she feels like I wouldn’t understand her.”

No matter how much he wanted to seem stoic and unaffected by the prospect, there was no hiding the conflicted emotions swimming in his eyes. With an almost sad smile, they asked him, “Even though anyone that sees you two says you have so much in common?”

With a slight flush (was it out of embarrassment as he noticed his messy hair, or was it a twinge of pride in being so connected to his daughter?) he began to apply his minimal skincare that he’d grown used to with them, scarred skin deftly being cared for after years of neglect.

“Autistic girls have different experiences than autistic boys, and their struggles are often overlooked because of these differences. Maybe she subconsciously feels that we can’t bridge that gap.”

Resting their head against their hand, keen eyes bore through him. Zayne would never go unheard as long as they were there. “Do you feel that gap?”

He shrugged, swallowing thickly as he wiped the excess off on his hand towel. “It’s not about me. Studies show that—”

Shaking their head, they sighed a little in affectionate exasperation. “It doesn’t matter what studies say. You’re overthinking it because you want things to be perfect. It’s sweet, just… not very realistic.”

“Mm. I know,” he softly conceded, combing through his hair with a distant glimmer in his eyes. It wasn’t so easy, navigating the emotions and ideas of a child that one already struggled with for decades.

They apologetically smiled at him, then added, “She trusts you with her life because she knows how hard you try to understand her, no matter how difficult that may be sometimes. You give her the space to be able to communicate her needs properly, and that’s why she loves you beyond measure, Zayne.”

He looked away for a few beats, but that was enough time for them to see the misty-eyed wonder in his eyes as he looked at the crooked drawing on his bedside table that she’d made of him holding her in his arms.

His sweet daughter who carried a piece of his heart everywhere she went.

“Then she’s just like you. Very open with her affections.” Huffing out an impossibly tender laugh, he picked up his phone once again and began to climb into bed, his shoulders sagging with relief; like he needed that reassurance to be able to nestle his body into the mattress, cold as it was without his lover. “Sometimes I wonder what I did to deserve it from you both…”

“You’re gonna get sick like that, and guess who’ll be cleaning up that mess?” Rafayel frowned, grabbing his daughter by the scruff of her neck and carrying her off before she got her pretty dress drenched by the wave that came crashing down where she’d been standing.

“I can’t get sick from water, daddy, and you know it,” came the reply between giggles, her eyes closed as she relished in the spray of seawater.

With a grunt, he fumbled with his phone a little as he switched to carrying her against his hip with one arm, before turning back to the ongoing video call. “Holding down the fort?” they teasingly asked, arching their brow at their daughter’s windswept hair and inevitably sandy fists curled up against Rafayel’s chest.

“She likes to bully me.” He pouted as he saw two pairs of mischievous eyes looking at him. “No guesses as to where she picked that up from.”

“Are you sure that your six year old daughter—who, mind you, is as cute as a button—is bullying you?”

“Daddy’s just silly, Lemurians are fine with water,” his daughter tried to reason with what she felt was perfectly logical. “He just doesn’t want to wash my clothes again if I get them wet.”

“And why should I?” he indignantly huffed out at the grin that showed she was definitely up to no good. “They’ll get dirty ten seconds later anyways. It’s such a pain.”

“Maybe you shouldn’t leave paint buckets everywhere, then I wouldn’t be on my fourth dress of the day.” Her sassy mutter under her breath was the last straw, and then his instincts took over and—

Chomp!

His teeth nibbled on her round little cheeks, cuteness aggression washing away any possible annoyance (which he’d been feigning, anyways) at the prospect of having to do the laundry all over again. She cried out in protest, though her shreaks of laughter and tighter hold on him gave away the fact that—not unlike his partner—she loved every bit of it.

“You got my face all dirty,” she whined, wiping her cheek against his silk shirt as he walked them back up to the house, much to his dismay.

A chuckle came from his screen, and he flushed under the sweet gaze and the grin he missed so much. “There goes another round in the washing machine. Y’know, Raf, it’s not the smartest move around to wear your favorite clothes around your kid.”

“No kidding,” he grumbled, though there was no bite behind his words. In fact, the tender look in his gem-like eyes only spoke volumes of the adoration he held inside. And maybe his little girl felt it, and decided it would be the perfect moment to press a kiss to where she could reach, right over his heart.

“I don’t mind the paint, daddy. You always make the prettiest things with it, pretty just like you,” she softly said, her tiny index finger toying with the pearlescent button on his blouse.

How much more did she want to squeeze his heart in his chest? He didn’t think he could possibly love her any more than he already did, and yet here she was, proving over and over again that she was the greatest gift he could ever be blessed with after all these years. Walking into their home with sandy feet and salty skin was no longer a dream, but a part of his quaint little life.

“Even if you did ruin my favorite dress and sandals.”

“Papa’s been asleep for three hours now,” she whined in a low voice, her bottom lip jutted out as she looked back at Xavier curled up in a ball in the middle of the unmade bed, legs tangled in the messy sheets. She then turned back to the videocall at hand. “Can’t you wake him up, please?”

Her twin brother popped up from behind her and patted her shoulders in what he hoped was a soothing manner. “He’s tired after he played with us. Let’s leave him for a bit.”

With a downcast gaze, she reluctantly nodded and walked out with him, the phone shaking as it was a little too big for her small hands.

Now out in the living room, they could finally raise their voices a little. “Papa cleaned up in the morning too. We probably shouldn’t have asked him to play with us.” He looked a little forlorn as he fiddled with his fingers. Painfully shy, it often showed when he was doubting himself. “We tried to help him after lunch, but—”

“That’s okay, what matters is that you both tried to lend him a hand,” they sweetly reassured them as they smiled through the screen. “And I’m sure if he was too tired to play with you guys, he wouldn’t have offered it in the first place.”

Their daughter gasped, eyes shining in awe at that. “How did you know that Papa was the one who came up with the game?”

“Because he waits for playtime every day, just to spend time with you guys. He’s always so excited, y’know?”

With matching grins (though one was more bashful than the other), the two seven year-olds looked significantly lighter than they had been when the call had first started. The precious moment was soon interrupted by a yawn from behind and a tuft of blonde hair taking up half the background.

“Did you two sneak off to have them all to yourself?” came Xavier’s sleep-addled voice, as he shuffled to pull them onto his lap and readjust the camera. “Cheeky, taking advantage of my nap.”

His daughter laughed, her hands going to loop around his neck. “We weren’t! Promise.”

Her brother reached up to pat down Xavier’s bedhead, gently combing through the soft locks. “You looked tired, Papa. We didn’t want to wake you up with our voices.”

At that, Xavier couldn’t help the upwards quirk of his lips, all the love one could contain threatening to burst through as he held his world between his fingertips—and the best part of him miles away but no further from the heart.

“You’re sweet, just like a certain someone we all miss,” he said, before kissing their foreheads and ruffling their hair, earning little grumbles of protest. Turning his attention back to the videocall, Xavier’s eyes softened. “How long until we can take naps together on the couch again?”

His partner sighed, glancing at the calender on the wall for a moment. “Should be three days. It’s hell without you guys. Maybe I’ve gotten used to waking you all up for an hour in the mornings.”

“Hey, it’s all because of Papa!”

“He does sleep in twice as long as us…”

“And it’s gotten even worse now that you’re gone.”

He chuckled at their sulking feeding off each other, and the collective agreement that things just weren’t the same when his lover wasn’t beside him where they belonged. “Then maybe this should be enough to convince them to hurry back to us so we can get up early every day, hmm?”

“Tell me why Luke and Kieran frantically called me up and told me stop you from endangering our one year old girl. Now.”

“Well, hello to you too, sweetie.” Sylus rolled his eyes at the clearly enthusiastic greeting. “I’ve missed you too. I’m doing good without you for two weeks. Thanks for asking.”

“Yeah, yeah, don’t give me that crap. You’ll live.” Scoffing, they crossed their arms in front of their chest. “Less avoiding the topic, more explaining why your seconds in command are treating you like a ticking bomb.”

“They’re more like lackeys, you know.” A hint of irritation climbed up his spine. Luke and Kieran were more like lost puppies that would be a danger to themselves—and society—if they were left to their whims. That’s all that they were (or so he tried to convince himself).

They waved him off, knowing that his half-assed words weren’t to be taken seriously. “I beg to differ. Now, where is she and what happened?”

Silence settled for a few moments, but then he realized it wasn’t in his favor to not quickly come clean. “She was playing around with me in bed, then seemed fascinated by my left pocket. Said pocket… may or may not have had a gun.”

Leaning in close to the camera, they sighed heavily, and pinched the bridge of their nose. “And I’m assuming her magic little fingers found the trigger.”

“More or less yes,” he mumbled under his breath, swallowing thickly as he met their dead-eyed stare. “Had to whip it out and fling it across the room… which may or may not have caused it to slam into the new bookcase and send it toppling.”

It didn’t matter how many people he’d managed to fearlessly face down; pinned underneath his partner’s disapproval, he found himself unable to move. “And that’s where they came in?”

Sylus hummed, flipping the camera and showing them the fractured remains on the floor. “Sorry about that, sweetie. Didn’t have the time to clean it up, what with feeding her and getting her ready for bed.”

“It’s fine, I can build another one.” Their quick dismissal was followed by the furrowing of their eyebrows. “What matters is that you prioritized her safety first.”

“Of course,” he was quick to reply, turning the camera back to himself, before he chuckled a little, sweetness seeping through his voice, “Though I do admit, seeing her have no self-preservation instincts really did make her strikingly similar to you in that regard.”

“Really flattering, hearing you praise her brashness and compare it to mine.” Their expression then grew more serious, and they worried their bottom lip between their teeth. “But… please. Don’t keep any weapons in the same room as her. She’s naturally curious.”

“Don’t have to tell me twice,” he murmured, having had his dose of sheer panic at her tiny hands. He couldn’t remember a moment in his life when he’d been as terrified as he was earlier, his blood turning to ice at the thought of endangering her because of his own fast-paced life.

“I know you’ll be more careful. You’re so good to her—and me,” they quietly mused, a grateful look on their face as they admired him—tired ruby eyes, unruly silver hair, and all.

And Sylus had no control over his own lovesick stare, perfectly content with dancing in their palm for the rest of their lives. After all, he’d found the only two people in this world he could forfeit his life for. There was no shame in admitting it—and so he did, ever so softly. “I suppose you can take pride in knowing that you both have me wrapped around your fingers.”

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[starogeorgina]

𝐔𝐧𝐛𝐫𝐨𝐤𝐞𝐧

Paring: Aemond Targaryen × Targaryen reader, minor Daemon Targaryen × Targaryen reader

Warnings: Swearing, kidnapping, self harm

1.03

“Shh, shh,” you try to gently rock Daenys to sleep. “Please, calm down, sweet girl.”

Your daughter was brought to you in the early hours since she woke up fussy and wouldn’t latch onto the wet nurse. Luckily, she fed from your breast without issue, but your silver-haired baby was still unhappy and crying. From the flush in Daeny's cheeks and the redness in her gums, you suspect she has started teething.

“Princess,” one of the handmaids approaches you while nervously pulling on the sleeve of her dress. You often wonder how the servants who followed Rhaenyra to Dragonstone felt watching the way their beloved princess was treated. “The maester wishes to speak with you as a matter of urgency. There is a wet nurse in the room down the hall; would you like me to take Daenys to her while you dress?”

Reluctantly, you nod and hand your daughter over to the younger woman. As soon as you’re left alone, you bring the faded nightgown over your head and redress yourself, choosing to put on the light grey gown you were wearing the night you were taken. It was made to accommodate the swell of your stomach, and now the extra fabric hung loose down the front. You had others to choose from, but it was one of the only items you had that was truly yours.

In every passing moon, the maester would examine you for any sign of pregnancy, which was humiliating, so you’d at least attempt to try and maintain a shred of dignity. You comb your hair with your fingers and try to straighten out the creases on your dress. Just as you finish adjusting yourself, the door to the room opens, and the maester, followed by a handmaiden, enters.

—

You were cursed by the ghosts of your father's blindness and your mother's lies. Your mother claimed that before King Viserys died, he declared he wanted Aegon on the throne, and all the men who deemed a woman unfit to rule believed her. Your father turned a blind eye to your family's scheming for years, and now the future of the realm would be full of war, murder, and misery.

As you dig your nails into the palm of your hand to stop yourself from screaming, blaming your parents for this situation was an easy option. If the throne wasn’t usurped, then envoys would never have been sent; Lucerys would still be alive, as would Jaehaerys, and you and your daughter would be safe in Aemond’s arms.

And if your father had been stronger-willed, none of it would have happened.

Being so caught up in your own thoughts, you don’t notice Prince Daemon entering the room. It’s not until you feel his presence beside you that you finally address him, “What is it?”

“A raven arrived from the red keep; one of my little spies has informed Criston Cole and your cunt of a husband that we have taken you north.”

No, no, no.

“They are currently gathering the green forces and will leave in a couple of days. Which means the false king won’t have that hoary old bitch, Vhagar, to hide behind. With only Sunfyre on his side, we can easily take the city back with the mere threat of Caraxes, Syrax, Vermax, Moondancer, and Tyraxes.”

“Need I remind you, uncle, which side my dragon is on?”

Gripping your jaw tightly, Daemon shoved you against the wall. “Need I remind you, niece, that you’re nothing more than a prisoner? I’ve spared your daughter's life, something the fucking kinslayer didn’t do for Luccerys.”

You slap his hand away and say, “You’ve got what you wanted; you're getting another child. Do not fucking touch me again.”

Daemon places both hands firmly on the wall beside your head, caging you in. His eyes flickered over you; he didn’t quite believe what you just said. “The maester confirmed this?”

“I haven’t bled in two moons; the maester is convinced my stomach will swell again soon.” Sarcastically, you add, “Congratulations; I hope you're as excited as I am.”

—

After speaking with the maester himself, Daemon kept his original promise and had you move to a larger, more comfortable bedchamber with crimson colors and dragon decor, and soon a crib would be brought in and your daughter would join you. All you cared about was keeping Daenys close.

You feel the lavish oils soothing the ache in your shoulders when one of the handmaidens rubs them onto your skin. This was the first time in many moons you had bathed properly, and the luxury of having a clean body, hair, and clothing wasn’t something you’d take for granted again.

“My Prince,” the handmaiden nods her head at him, then attempts to cover you up with a towel, causing your uncle to chuckle.

“It’s considered bad manners to interrupt a lady while she’s bathing.”

“It’s nothing new," he says as he stands at the bottom of the tub, showing no attempt to advertise his gaze from your bare breasts. “Perhaps I wanted to join you in bathing.”

“I’d rather you drowned me.“

Aemond smirks, “Leave us.”

The handmaiden gives you an apologetic look, then leaves. No matter how many times Daemon spilled his seed inside you, the reality of carrying his child never felt real until now. You’d already suffered on the birthing bed out of duty; now you’d be doing it again to keep Daenys safe. You don’t even realize you’re crying until you taste the salty tears on your lips. “What happens if this pregnancy doesn’t end well?”

“What do you mean?”

“I had two other daughters once; both of them died.”

Daemon comes to the side of the tub and crouches down so he’s eye level with you. “I wasn’t aware.”

Red blotches appear on your chest and neck as you struggle to stop your voice from cracking. “The first girl's name was Anya; she came early after three days of labor.”

Your mother had remained by your side throughout your labor, and the look of horror on her face when she saw the ‘thing’ you delivered would be forever etched in your mind. Anya’s skin was covered in small scars that looked similar to dragon scales. But no matter how monstrous she may have appeared to others, you thought she was beautiful. Against the maesters advice, Aemond visited you before the silent sisters had come to take the baby, and it was the first time since the night he lost his eyes that you’d seen him cry.

“I gave birth to Rhaella the following year; she was born at the end of the fall but was taken by the winter fever.“

The expression on Daemon’s face was hard to read; he himself knew of the pain you and Aemond have suffered from losing a baby. And you could only begin to imagine the grief and suffering the blacks felt after Lucery's death. “And news of this never reached Dragonstone?”

Your eyes sting from crying. “Our family has always been divided; who would have told you?”

“My brother.”

“Ha,” you scoff. “You saw what my father was like in the end. He had consumed so much milk from the poppy that he became oblivious to everything around him; the only person he ever wished to speak with was Rhaenyra.”

Frowning, he skims his finger over the water.

“I feared I would never again bear a living child, but the gods blessed me with Daenys. But I shall ask again, uncle, What will happen if this pregnancy doesn’t end well?”

“You do not want to find out, niece.”

[johnbrand]

Call to Action

William was getting antsy in the airport, crossing his legs and kicking his feet anxiously as he awaited his flight. It had been nearly two months since he had last seen his long-distance boyfriend and the excitement was riling him up. William had been preparing for this trip for weeks now. Everything was packed, the shuttle from the airport coordinated. As soon as he landed he would quickly change from his plane pajamas to a fancier outfit to surprise his true love.

All of this made William bouncy with a child-like giddiness. The two had been lovers since their first year of college, but William’s boyfriend had made it clear early on that senior year he planned to study abroad. Even though this separation was planned and temporary, the young, romantic William had swooned since the day he left. He practically looked the part too, his average, lean build and mousy brown hair perfectly accompanying the lovelorn persona.

Doing his best to distract himself, William grabbed for his phone, surprised to find an unknown number trying to reach him. With nothing better to do, he decided to accept the call. William did not notice all the other men in the airport simultaneously reaching for their phones and answering the same number through their devices.

“Men!” a rugged, masculine voice exclaimed from the other end. “It is our time to rise up to save our country!”

William was not prepared for this sudden call to action, but curious, he remained on the line. He did not realize his decision was already made for him.

“Men should be with women! Men need to become fathers again!”

William’s eyes glazed over at the strong words as the masculine voice continued to spout even more offensive remarks. It was jarring, aggravating to a point that…aggravating to a…aggravating to his dick.

William let the man’s uproar of commands project on, unaware of the small boner that rose from his soft pants as insults were delivered at his masculinity. Each of the man’s statements were absorbed willingly into William’s innermost self, adjusting the poor boy to the expectations of a complete stranger. William’s height rose dramatically, a soft breeze tickling against his shins as his pants rode higher up. His thighs and calves began to fill the empty space as the pants became a starchy material, khakis functional either indoors or outdoors. His shoes too, once cheap sandals, grew larger into massive athletic sneakers that (thanks to his manly privilege) passed as "business casual."

“Straighten out those backs and puff those chests!” the voice urged, and William obliged. His muscles tightened beneath the worn-out tee, which was quickly thickening into a sporty-yet-still-professional polo echoing a more standardized hue. William’s chest, now supported by hard-earned bulk, began to cover itself with little hairs while his entire being broadened and squared. The changes crawled out from underneath the new shirt down his arms, leaving William with tanned, lightly dusted appendages and thick mitts begging for a game of catch on the front lawn. A single finger was graced with a simple silver band.

William’s manhood continually throbbed with the man’s words, pulsing larger with every new mandate ordered upon him. “Your role is to reproduce a spitting-image, not a spitting savage!” William felt himself agree, tightening the typical leather belt that had secured itself around his stronger base. His evolving cock protested the loss of freedom, now a machine for fertilization built for a purpose other than sheer pleasure. “You are a man, so act like one!”

“I am a man!” William repeated, his vocal chords deepening with maturity and testosterone. His jaw squared out with manly aftershave, years brutishly piling onto his body to make him better prepared for fatherhood. William's hair flattened out into a neatly combed shape, a long-practiced art form that matched his weathered, experienced eyes.

“Families and jobs are the priority.” the man signed off. “Father our children, father our country!”

Bill placed the phone down, noticing his flight had just arrived. The 30-something-father watched as the passengers got off, noticing all the proud men with their families. The thought aroused his massive paternal schlong, quickly forcing him to spread his legs to make some room. Bill had just finished a week-long corporate retreat, talking business, the home life, and politics with the other like-minded men out on the greens. Now though, he was excited to get home to the wife and kids. So excited in fact that he had to hear his voice one last time.

“Hey hun, boarding the plane now. Have dinner ready by the time I get home." Bill's command held the dominance and authority of natural masculinity. "Tell the kiddos I'll see them soon, love ya.”

[melon-fodder]

ALWAYS HAVE BEEN • T. HIRAGI

Summary: Hiragi drops in on you unannounced after a fight. Once you patch him up things take an unexpected turn, one you’ve wanted for years.

Word Count: 3.8k

Warnings: smut, reader is Matsumoto’s sister in some capacity, mentions of fighting, very minor injuries, reader has female anatomy, Hiragi gets dirty in this (bless), fingering, oral (f! receiving), p in v, multiple orgasms, squirting, dirty talk, pet names: pretty girl, baby

Note: This got away from me so fast, but it needed to happen. Finally, finally, I have written something more than a drabble for the love of my life 💚 Enjoy~

The bathroom is still full of steam when you step out of the shower, keeping your face damp even after toweling it off. You dry your hair as well as you can, comb some leave-in conditioner through it, then wipe part of the mirror clear to get started on your simple skin care routine. The vent is loud enough to block out any sound from outside, specifically the door to your apartment opening and closing, a voice that would be familiar calling out for your brother. Ignorant of your guest, you just keep humming, rubbing in moisturizer, gliding your jade roller over your face. The tool clatters into the sink when you startle, jumping out of your skin when you hear a deep voice on the other side of the door, “Yo, Matsumoto–” Hiragi, one of your brother’s closest friends and fellow member of Bofurin. Despite not feeling threatened that he’s in your home, your heart rate doesn’t slow down one bit. In fact, it speeds up. “You still have that first-aid kit somewhere?” he calls out, and you rush to wrap a towel around yourself, knotting it securely over your chest, then crack the door to peer up at him. Hiragi’s eyebrows raise high on his forehead, pink dusting his cheeks when he realizes– “Yodai isn’t home right now.” “Shi–I mean, sorry, I’ll leave.” There’s a bruise blooming just beside his left eye, and his bottom lip is split open on one side. You don’t even have to look at his hands to know that his knuckles are bloodied. They stay in a constant state of rawness, similar to your brother’s. “No, it’s fine,” you tell him as he begins to back away. It’s an awkward situation, but, while you would have been mortified a couple years ago, you’re more comfortable with yourself now. Plus, you know for a fact Hiragi would never hurt you. “Give me a second to make myself, ya know, decent,” you gesture vaguely to yourself which makes the man flush even darker and stare at the ceiling, “and then I’ll grab the first-aid kit for ya’.”

Hiragi clears his throat before muttering, “thanks,” then strides back out to the living room, leaving you to skitter across the hall into your bedroom to put some damn clothes on.

You’ve known the Furin boys (men now, you suppose) since high school when Yodai joined. Out of all of them, you’re most familiar with Yanagida, Kaji, and of course, Hiragi, having grown accustomed to them dropping in at all hours, usually after fights but sometimes just to relax. First it had been at your family home, but even when you and your brother moved into your own small, shared apartment, you still found yourself walking into a full house fairly often.

The point is that you’re comfortable with all of them. Even if you’ve been harboring a tiny (massive) crush on Hiragi since the day you met him. It’s fine, though. Everything will be fine. You’ll get him patched up and send him on his way, and nothing will change even though he just saw you in nothing but a towel.

You could have covered up a little better, probably should have, but it’s your apartment, so when you walk back out it’s in a faded metal band t-shirt and a pair of maybe-too-small terry cloth shorts. Whatever.

Hiragi is sitting in the kitchen and straightens up when you walk in, immediately apologizing again until you wave him off.

“It’s fine, I promise. I’ve gotten pretty used to you popping in with no warning,” you kid.

“I didn’t realize it was… I mean, I texted your brother to give him a heads up.”

“Well, as it happens, he does occasionally do things that aren’t gang-related. Errands, dates…”

Hiragi scoffs as you open one of the high cabinets, something about, “I’d know if Matsumoto was datin’ someone. He’s just blowin’ me off ‘cause I put him to work yesterday–hey!” He’s suddenly on his feet when he notices you swing a leg up on the counter. “Don’t climb that! You’re gonna break your damn neck!”

Pulling you off and away from the oh-so dangerous countertops, Hiragi reaches into the cabinet that is much more accessible to him–god, he’s so tall, deliciously tall–and retrieves the little red box you were aiming for. When he starts for the hallway again you catch him by the wrist and try to lead him back into his chair.

“I can patch myself back up, kid,” he tells you. The name raises your hackles while simultaneously forcing a shiver down your spine. Yodai calls you ‘kiddo’ but he’s allowed, even if you are only a few months younger than him. Hiragi, though… You would really prefer if he was able to see past the whole Matsumoto’s little sister thing.

“Just sit down,” you command more than request. “You have clumsy man fingers. I’ll be able to do a better job.”

And you do, dabbing at the tiny cut on his eyebrow with a cotton ball before carefully applying a butterfly bandage. The bruise on the side of his head doesn’t show any broken skin, so there’s not much you can do there, but you are able to tend to that swollen lip. Hiragi pouts like he isn’t a huge fan of you taking care of him like this, but tough shit. It’s in your nature. Plus, you’ve got far gentler hands. He’d probably find a way to hurt himself even worse, get too rough with a q-tip or something.

It’s quiet for a little while, and you are keenly aware of how close you are to him (another contributing factor as to why you’re doing this? Possibly). You’re bent at the waist while dabbing at his face, and you know your shirt is offering a bit of a view after cutting the collar open years ago in an attempt to give it an edgier look. Hiragi isn’t looking, though, gaze trained upward as he pushes his lip out for you.

“He really out on a date?” he eventually asks, and you smirk. Apparently, he doesn’t handle silence well either.

“Yeah,” you answer, waiting a beat before adding, “with our mom.”

Hiragi tries to smile only for you to squish his cheeks together, poking your tongue out at him when he makes a noise of protest.

You think you’re playing it pretty cool so far–casual and lighthearted. That doesn’t mean you aren’t thinking about how you want to pepper his face with kisses, though. Just get comfortable in his lap, play with the short, bleached hairs at the back of his head. See how much you can tease him before he starts rolling his hips against yours…

“Wha’re you ‘hinkin awout?” Hiragi halfway manages through the grip you have on his face.

You let go of him, realize you’re sucking on your own lip, that your eyelids have gotten heavy with desire, but you pull yourself out of it with a short shake of your head.

“Nothing important.”

“No?” He surprises you by sitting forward, and the sudden motion makes you stumble back just enough to trigger his instincts into reaching out and grabbing you before you can fall over. Hands around your waist (huge, warm hands) Hiragi pins you with jasper eyes. “Nothin’ important?”

You swallow visibly. Audibly. But shake your head again. He’s just doing that thing–that subtle check-in, making sure you’re okay without actually asking. Thinks he scared you earlier or that you’re pissed at him showing up in the first place. It’s not like he’s holding you like this just to fuck with you. Hiragi isn’t the type to do that.

But he also isn’t the type to linger, more of a head-pat or brief one armed hug type of guy. So why are his fingers curling against the hem of your shirt? And why is he lifting his eyebrow like that?

“Not often it’s just you n’ me alone, huh?” he prompts, finally letting his hands drop to his thighs.

“No,” your voice cracks and you swear internally. “No, not since that one time in school when the others ran off without you.” A fight that Yodai took very personally, ignoring his captain when Hiragi had called out to him to slow down, responding only with, “keep my sister safe!” as if he had any right to demand something like that from his higher-up.

But it was Hiragi, so he did in fact stay behind to keep an eye on you while Yodai and Kaji brawled out in the school yard. It was right around that time that your crush on him had really bloomed, so being alone in a room with him… You spent most of the time shaking in the corner, eyes darting back and forth between Hiragi and anywhere else. Of course he noticed, frowning at you in confusion but not willing to ask questions and make you even more uncomfortable.

“You were terrified of me back then,” he chuckles now, showing off sharp teeth that you want to feel against your neck.

You laugh–giggle, really–because, “I was not scared of you.”

“What? You were shakin’ like a leaf. I remember you all curled up in one of the desks.”

“Yeah, but not ‘cause I was scared,” you reiterate. “I had a crush on you, idiot.”

It’s okay if he knows now, just as long as you talk about it like it’s in the past, like you’ve moved on.

Hiragi’s eyes widen, truly surprised. “Wait, for real?”

“For real,” you grin, deciding now is a good time to gather up the used cotton balls and throw them away. Putting a few feet of distance between the two of you is good, helps you take in full breaths. Still, even on the other side of the kitchen you can feel his eyes on you.

“Why didn’t you say anything?”

You spin around, not expecting that question at all, and grapple for a believable answer. “M-me? Back then? Are you kidding? I was so… All I did was follow Yodai around like some–”

“Kid sister?” he finishes for you, an amused smile lifting the swollen side of his mouth. “It was cute.”

Your jaw drops, somehow offended and flattered at the same time. “It was weird. Like I didn’t have friends or anything better to do.”

Hiragi shrugs. “You just seemed kinda shy. Innocent. Like I said, it was cute.”

Narrowing your eyes, you know you’re about to say something stupid, but you just can’t help it. “Innocent? And you thought it was cute? You some kind of creep, Ragi?”

He cocks his head to the side. “Depends. You still got that crush on me?”

Yes. “No.” You answer too quickly. Way too quickly. And Hiragi’s eyes shine. Trying to recover, you walk back toward him, doing your absolute best to look unfazed and confident. “Even if I did, it wouldn’t matter since I’m not all shy and innocent anymore.”

Hiragi stands up, all 187 centimeters of shiny leather and bleached hair looming over you, and you feel your breath hiccup in your throat. Fuck, he’s only gotten hotter over the years, and you’ve only gotten more desperate for him.

“Who said I was still into that sorta thing?”

You know you look ridiculous, gazing up at him with big doe eyes, lips parted, absolutely everything written all over your face, and all that confidence is gone because he’s staring down at you, and he knows. He knows your feelings, knows you want him. Now.

You don’t think; you just do–shoving yourself up on your tiptoes while wrapping your fingers in his shirt, you pull Hiragi toward you, kissing him hard enough to force a grunt from him. He doesn’t hesitate to respond, bending on his own accord while walking you back to the nearest wall and pressing you to it. You breathe through your nose, each inhale full of his cologne and a hint of sweat. The taste of antiseptic barely registers when you swipe your tongue over his lip, overpowered by the remnants of blood.

His body is hot and hard against yours. Not just the bulge pressing into your stomach, but his chest, his abs, the thigh that slides between yours. You can’t help but grind down on it, gasping into his mouth at the same time he mutters a deep, “fuck.”

His hands are under your shirt, squeezing your curves, blunt nails lightly scratching, and he groans when he traces the swell of your bare tits.

Pulling away, Hiragi huffs against your neck, voice like gravel when he tells you, “I’m about to defile you,” so matter-of-fact that it makes you moan out loud.

“Fu–please, want you so bad,” you whine, and it’s pitiful. Pathetic. Nothing cool or casual about you now as you pant for him. “I’ve wanted you for so long.”

“I know.” He takes your face in both hands, nodding so that his nose bumps into yours. “M’right here, I’ve gotcha.”

Hiragi kisses you again, teeth nipping until you open your mouth for him. The sensation of his tongue against yours has you all but riding his thigh. You know you’ll be leaking through your skimpy underwear if you haven’t already, and your arousal only increases when Hiragi bends to grip you by the thighs, lifting you onto the nearest countertop.

It makes you snicker, “m’gonna break my neck, remember?”

“Tch.” Hiragi kisses down said neck, stopping to bite and suck, hand on your back to feel how it arches for him. “Not gonna let that happen.”

One hand under your shirt, Hiragi uses his other to dance along your leg, higher and higher until he reaches the bottoms of your shorts, loose enough to slip beneath.

“Tell me to stop if you–”

“Don’t stop.”

He laughs, shrugging out of his jacket when you start to push it off his shoulders, and once it’s on the floor his hands are on you again, fingers disappearing under your shorts to stroke over your poorly covered pussy. Hiragi hums in satisfaction, obviously pleased at how wet you are. You expect him to comment on it since he obviously has a bit of smartass in him, but he doesn’t. Instead he drops to his knees and starts tugging at your bottoms.

You can barely process what’s happening. Is he really–are you finally–holy shit, you’ve dreamt of this. His face between your legs, tongue lapping at your slick, a finger slowly sinking into your wanton cunt.

“Ohh, fuck, fuck…”

You feel the points of his teeth graze your puffy folds, sharp and teasing before he wraps his lips around your swelling clit and sucks.

The noise you let out is embarrassing, high-pitched and uncontrolled. Your fingers find purchase in his hair, softer than expected. Must’ve switched from gel to something else. The thought makes you laugh a little hysterically. Here he is, Toma Hiragi, eating your pussy like it’s his job, and you’re thinking about his hair. He shuts you up with a second finger, though, both of them bent to rub against your g-spot, and you whimper as pressure begins to build between your hips.

It feels so good. He feels so fucking good, licking and slurping and fucking you with his fingers, but you want more, you– “Ragi, please, fuck, I want… I need…”

One long lick to the crest of your pussy then he asks, “what do you need?” only to return to sucking on your clit again, stealing your breath away for just a moment. “Tell me, come on, pretty girl, use your words.”

“I–” Pretty girl. “I—” his fingers are still moving inside you, making your head loll back and hit the cabinets behind you. “I–fuck, need to feel you.”

He stands, still not pulling his fingers from you, and he uses his thumb to circle your clit as he leans into your space and teases, “need me? I’m right here.”

Your eyes roll behind fluttering lids, lips pulling down into a pout that he promptly covers with his own, messy mouth. He’s overwhelming, fingers moving perfectly, milking slick from you with every stroke of your g-spot, and fuck, the way he’s kissing you, how he’s touching you, how he’s teasing you with a soft, “yeah, baby? Can’t even talk, huh? Feel that good?” He’s filthy. Hiragi is so much dirtier than you imagined, and you have imagined a lot when it comes to him.

“Fuck me, please please please, Ragi, wanna feel your cock,” you babble, tears pricking the corners of your eyes because it’s so much, and you’re ready to cum, but there’s something missing. You need to feel all of him first.

The clinking of his belt draws your hazy eyes downward, and you salivate when he pushes his pants down and his cock springs free–long enough to make you shudder with anticipation, thick enough to make you pulse with need, and hard enough to make you preen. You did that to him. You’re doing this to him. You’re the reason for that shiny bead of pre glistening at his slit.

You want to lick it clean, fuck, you want to suck him off, swallow him down, feel him in your stomach. You want him to cum down your throat and fill you up and–

“You look like you wanna eat me,” he says. For a guy with a split lip, he sure is smirking a lot. Doesn’t that sting?

“I wanna do a lot of things to you, Hiragi, but first…” you reach down with a trembling hand, fingers wrapping around his smooth shaft, “I want you to fuck me.”

Growling, he pulls you to the very edge of the counter, conveniently the perfect height for him to line himself up with you. He rubs his tip between your sloppy lips, slapping it against your clit a couple times and sucking your gasp straight from your lips when he kisses you.

You squeal when he starts to push inside you, his thick head already stretching you, but he murmurs, “I’ll go slow,” into your mouth. His voice is shakier than before, strained while he stays true to his word. Skilled fingers rub your clit, massaging it while sinking deeper into you. The stretch is, fuck, it’s perfection. It twinges in the most delicious way, his cock steadily bullying your walls, making way for itself like it belongs there. The stretch and the sounds and his fingers on your swollen bud all have your toes curling and back bowing.

“O-oh, Jesus, Ragi, I’m–m’gonna…”

“Come on, show me how pretty you look when you cum,” he grunts, bottoming out just in time for your pussy to start spasming, clenching over and over as you make a mess all over him. “Yeah, just like that, look at you creamin’ on my cock–you gonna squirt too?” He starts swiping over your clit faster than before, pulling out and fucking back into you as you ride out your orgasm, your sopping hole opening up for him even more as you– “there it is, god damn, such a pretty pussy. You always this messy, or s’it just for me?”

You can’t speak. Hiragi keeps fucking squirt out of you, hips relentless, just like his fingers on your clit, and before you know it he’s forcing another full-body orgasm out of you.

You didn’t know it would be this good. Didn’t know it could be this good. You’ve had sex with a few other guys, and some had even managed to get you off, but not like this. This is something else entirely.

Much to your dismay, Hiragi begins to slow, and it’s only when you open bleary eyes that you notice the tears streaming down your face. For the first time since he got to the apartment and almost walked in on you, he looks concerned.

“Am I hurtin’ you?” he asks, a calloused thumb wiping your wet cheek.

You shake your head, legs wrapping around his waist to urge him deeper. “No, no, you just, mm, you feel so good.”

He bites his lip, thrusting a little faster again, little harder, groans that you, “feel fuckin’ perfect, baby. Think your pussy was made for me.”

Your words are broken and breathy as you agree with him, “it was–all yours, Ragi, I’m all yours…” too high off endorphins and overwhelmed with pleasure to even recognize what you’re admitting to.

“Yeah?” he slows again, but the way he’s burying himself inside of you is making you drool. “Always been my girl, haven’t ya’?

You nod, and he catches you in another brain-addling kiss, breathing a barely coherent, “yours, too. Been yours since day one.”

You lock your arms around his neck, pulling him impossible closer, and when his hips start to stutter you press your mouth to his, swallowing his low groan as he spills his load inside of you. The kiss is sweeter than all the others before, tongues lazy and clumsy as he uses you to milk himself dry, and once both of you are entirely spent, your lips stay molded together, hot and insistent, saying everything that has yet to be said out loud.

“You meant it?” he asks quietly, that sinful tone gone from his voice, replaced with something much softer. “You’re still my girl?”

You sigh dramatically and nuzzle into his neck. “Always have been, probably always will be.”

Face in your hair, Hiragi chuckles, “don’t sound so embarrassed.”

“It is embarrassing. Been pining after you for years.”

“At least you weren’t the one chasin’ after your friend’s little sister.”

Lifting your head, you regard him with a raised eyebrow, “speaking of, what are you gonna tell Yodai?”

He shrugs, the picture of nonchalant despite still being balls deep inside of you. “I’ll be respectful, but in the end I’m still his superior.”

“The Furin hierarchy still stands when it comes to fucking sisters?” you laugh.

“If it means I can be with you without catchin’ any bullshit for it, absolutely.” He punctuates it with a peck to your forehead then looks down between the two of you. “We should probably, uh…”

“Get cleaned up before it’s too late?”

“Exactly. Otherwise–”

Keys turn in the lock. The front door opens.

You look at Hiragi with wide eyes as he turns red from his neck to his hairline.

“Wait right there, Yodai!” you call out frantically, fighting a whimper when Hiragi pulls out a little too quickly.

There isn’t enough time, though, not for him to zip himself back in his pants and definitely not enough for you to pull yours back on.

Yodai rounds the corner, takes in the scene, then turns right back around while shouting, “the kitchen counter? Are you fuckin’ kidding me?”

Do not copy, modify, or repost my work. I do not consent to my writing being used for AI.

[bullet-prooflove]

Self Defense: Terry Silver x Reader

Tagging: @volumesofforgottenlore@kmc1989@somethingdarkside17@noonee333

A Loaded Gun - Terry begins to struggle after John Kreese turns up on your doorstep.

Letting Go - It takes you leaving for Terry to realise he needs to make a change.

Stranglehold - Terry begs an unlikely duo for help.

Three Men & A Baby - You discover you're pregnant at an unforunate time.

Terry isn’t home the night that John Kreese tries to kill you. He’s trapped in an LAPD police station with his driver and his lawyer, trying to explain why they found a couple of baggies of coke in his car.

Terry, he hasn’t touched the stuff since the eighties and his driver is as sober as a judge.

“What about your wife?” He’s asked as he sits in an interrogation room, his hands clasped together. “She uses the car too.”

He fixs the officer that’s interviewing him with a hard look.

“My wife has never used coke, she wouldn’t put it anywhere near her body, especially in her current condition.”

He spends hours with his lawyer trying to straighten the whole thing out. When he finally gets home it’s to blue and red flashing lights and his house being cordoned off with crime scene tape. It’s in that moment that he realises that his incarceration tonight, it was entirely by design.

It’s when you’re led out of the house covered in blood, that his heart just dies in this chest. It’s smeared across your face, matted in your hair, the pearl, silk pyjama short set you’re wearing is soaked in it.

There’s fingertip marks already blemishing your delicate throat. Your arms are wrapped protectively around your stomach. It’s the expression on your face that terrifies him, there’s no life in your eyes, no spark, there’s nothing.

He thinks about the sonogram stuck to the fridge, the one of his son at twelve weeks. You were four months along at this point, a small baby bump beginning to show. He wonders if Kreese has taken that from the two of you, if he’s stolen away your baby.

“Georgia.” He says as he ducks under the tape and hurtles towards you. A cop puts his hand on his arm trying to stop him but Terry shakes him off. There is nothing in this world that will prevent him from being with his wife right now.

He rides with you to the hospital in the back of the ambulance, his hand clasping yours and he listens to the litany of injuries. You squeeze his fingers tightly as they reel them off. Concussion, damaged larynx, bruised ribs, laceration to your right hand.

“What about the baby?” You ask, your voice barely more than a rasp.

“I’m sorry Ma’am, they should be able to tell you at the hospital.” The paramedic says apologetically.

It’s a few hours later after you’ve given your statement to the police that you tell Terry what happened, about how you killed John Kreese in self defence. The two of you are in a private room, the lights turned down low. Terry’s sitting on the hospital bed with you, your entire body curled up against him as his fingertips comb soothingly through your hair. You feel so small in his arms, so fragile.

“I woke up with his hands around my throat.” You tell him, your voice devoid of emotion. “He was surprised when I broke free, that I fought back. Danny and Johnny, they taught me what to do if…”

You trail off, your grip on his shirt tightening just a little. Terry has never felt as grateful as he does in this moment for those two men.

“I broke a glass in the scuffle, we ended up on the floor. He got his hands back on my throat, slammed my head against the hardwood. I was starting to blackout when my hand found the glass and I just… I stabbed him in the neck and I kept stabbing him until he stopped, I just wanted him to stop.”

Your voice breaks then and Terry can’t stand it. He gathers you up even closer, his lips brushing over your hairline. Your hand comes to rest on the small baby bump, smoothing over the space where your son resides.

“I kept thinking about Sebastian, how he wouldn’t get to meet you.”  

Terry’s hand covers yours and he thinks of the tiny life nestled inside of you, the one that survived despite all odds.

He’s a fighter, his son, just like his mother, like his father.

“You’re going to stay here with me tonight?” You ask him as his fingertips caress your stomach. “With us?”

“Yes my love.” He whispers as he tips your chin up to meet his gaze. “I’m never leaving you alone again.”

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[rivertigo]

monkees hair stylist crimes ranked by badness

1. straightening Micky’s hair. They took a hot guy and made him so painfully kid by straightening his beautiful curls. they dulled his sparkle. never seen a crazier blowup than Micky with straight hair vs with his natural curls

2. giving mike the craziest side part ever. they were setting him up. I forgot who’s dad or relative or whoever said this but I remember they referred to mike as the one with the unfortunate hairline. I just saw a picture of him with bangs and he was hot as fuck lowkey I get you guys now. but with the side part so strong he loses like so much of his appeal

3. letting Micky have curly hair but styling it in a pushed back way. It just looked awkward and bad. they probably realized they had to keep the curls because we’ll have you seen him? but they probably wanted him to look ‘neat’ or something like that because it was the 1960s major network tv

4. Davy’s long hair in the early seasons. I love when men have long hair but his didn’t have enough shape in the early days. It was a long swoop they combed too much and I thought it wasn’t as good as it could’ve been and I know this to be a truth because in 1969/70 he had a similar length with some better shaping and it looked so good. this is the lowest on the list because Davy was still hot.

the monkees hair stylist has never harmed Peter Tork

[mamisfavmosher]

good luck kisses // the judgement day x fem!reader (poly! relationship)

Fair warning, I am not 100% sure on all the wrestling terms or how all of the matches work, so bear with me. I just love Rhea Ripley/ TJD and I dont think there’s enough fanfic for them on here:)).

Summary: Reader is part of the The Judgement Day, but doesn’t have any matches for the night. She is simply there to chill in the dressing room and support her partners.

Reader’s POV

I was curled up on the couch in The Judgement Day’s dressing room, watching Rhea draw her chosen symbol on her cheek with eyeliner. The remaining men of the group, currently not in the dressing room, were warming up for their three on three match against the Usos and Solo Sikoa later tonight. All Rhea had to do was a small promotional bit and she would be done for the night. I watched on as she fixed different bits of her makeup in the mirror.

“Mami?” I looked at her and waited for a response. She brushed a strand of hair off of her cheek before glancing over at me. 

“Yeah, baby?” She replied with a raised eyebrow, quickly focusing back on straightening her black lipliner. I watched her for a few seconds more, simply admiring from afar.

“You look really pretty.” I smiled at her through the mirror and snuggled back into my blanket. A small grin graced Rhea’s lips as she applied her lipstick. 

“Much appreciated, darling.” She winked at me and combed some more gel through her hair. Standing up, she walked over and crouched down in front of me, her fingers automatically running through my hair. “You’re absolutely gorgeous yourself, pretty girl.” Warmth spread across my cheeks as I smiled. “What do you say? You wanna go find the boys and wish them luck before their match?” Rhea stood back up, holding out a hand to help me off the couch. I nodded in response and eagerly grabbed her hand. 

We walked over to find the boys awaiting their entrance music, stretching and giving each other pep talks before Rhea and I approached them.

“There’s our girls!” Priest said as he opened his arms to embrace us in a hug, squeezing us tight.

“We’re here to wish you guys luck!” I said as I jumped into the waiting arms of Finn and Dom.

“Oh, is that right, baby?” Finn smirked at me and let me fully hug Dominik so he could hold Rhea for a bit.

“Yep!” I exclaimed and got on my tip toes to kiss Dom on the cheek.

“Hey! I didn’t get a good luck kiss when you hugged me!” Damien held his arms open, waiting for me to come back to him. Dominik pulled me back and quickly pecked my lips. 

“Thanks for the luck, chica.” Dominik said as he gave me one last peck, patting my butt as I headed back to Damien. This time, Priest made sure to pick me up, wrapping my legs around his waist, so I couldn’t walk away without giving him kisses.

“You know I’m expecting extra good luck kisses now, right? You shouldn’t have kept me waiting.” He smirked before pulling my jaw towards him, kissing me deeply.

“Now, that’s not fair to anyone. None of us got a good luck makeout session with her.” I heard Finn say. I pulled away from Damien to giggle and smile at the rest of the Judgement Day. 

“We don’t have time!” I pecked Damien’s cheek before jumping back onto the ground. “I can makeout with you all later, but you guys need to go win your match!” Rhea and I laughed as the boys all groaned and lined up for their entrance.

“We’re gonna hold you to that, princesa.” Priest sent a wink over his shoulder before the three of them went out to their music. Rhea and I walked over to a monitor to watch the match play out, the boys eventually taking the win. They came back jumping and excitedly yelling, pushing us all together for a group hug. “Man, do those good luck kisses work!” Damien exclaimed and the two other boys agreed.

“Now, I believe we were all promised a makeout session with our lovely y/n?” Finn mentioned with a smirk.

“Yes, you were, but I’m calling shots on the first session since I didn’t get any good luck kisses today.” Rhea said with a chuckle, grabbing my hand and leading me back to the dressing room before the boys could protest. She got comfortable on the couch before pulling me onto her lap, smiling at me. “My turn.”

[captain-n-crunchies]

You need a retwist...

OPLA Ussop x Salon owner Reader

From braids to straightening and even retwist and reties you've done all types of hair on Cocoyasi pays a good amount ever since fish face and they came onto the island. Arlong always comes to get his hair cleaned leaving only a path of violence and no tips after every visit; Nami one of my old closest friends ending up visiting my shop when Arlong and he asked me how much I make lying didn't save me wen Nami was around telling him I was practically flourishing. After she told him how much I was making he destroyed everything... thousands of berries and years of hard work destroyed all because of his and Nami's greed, he raised the village toll, and I didn't get much business for years til we got stable.

Today was collection day, the people of Coco gathered and gave Nami their payment for "protection" it was also the day Nami came to tell me Arlong would be coming for a touch up, the coward dead in front of me asking how many berries I have today threating me to not lie pr it'll happen again; after giving her a 1,000 berries and free products she gives me a solemn glance and leaves my salon like she never came.

Cleaning the floors and sinks of the salon with music from radio wafted through the cool air as I hummed a tune and swayed with the beat. Refilling water to plants and sanitizing combs a clean smell lingered in the air, loving the vibe I sit down onto the decorative couch and aid in the silence when I hear I ring of the front door. Getting up I walked to the front of my hose to see four men: a dopey boy with a straw hat, a tall man in a suit? It's 95 degrees??, a green hair swordsman, and a man with curious eyes looking over everything. The straw hat boy says the salon smells like lemon and cleaning products as he walks around touching and tapping any shiny piece of metal

" Don't touch nothin if you can't afford to replace, now what can I do for you?" I asked uninterested grabbing a apron and standing by the salon chair placing products out. The boy talks about Nami asking if I seen her based off what he's saying her sister must've led him to me. " She came in to collect Arlong's 'business fee' and left, if that's all you head on out, I'm still cleaning"

" Well did you know where she's going? We can't leave without her! Shes our navigator"

" You picked someone whose already apart of a pirate crew to join yours? Thats pretty stupid" then the swordsman told me they didn't know till now. " Thats sad but that's how she rolls, betrays her friends and does it again. It's a kink to her I guess" as I spoke, I looked to the man with the durag who now looking through a lookbook of men styles, " You're looking for new style?"

The man in the suit named Sanji who been somewhat quiet besides from complementing my looks ask what could be done to his " luscious blond locks his " I sit him down and his hair pretty clean jokingly calling him pretty boy I trimmed his hair and slicked it how it was before, the straw hat boy excitedly wants his turn and his moves to sit down and I take off his hat to see a whole god dammed mess, his unruly locks aren't kept right not even moisturized and it's filled with sand and dirt; " You should be ashamed of this... I mean how long have you went without a wash?" he thinks with picking his nose? And says a about a few months probably a year, within a long hour I washed and detangled his curly hair and it looks very pretty with a few fruity scents he looks more... boyish in a sense?

Turing to the swordsmen who is just looking around I asked did he want anything done he says he doesn't need it but if do I have something to drink, walking to the fridge in the back of the hose I get him a nice glass of sake and walks over to the man named Ussop, asking him to get in the chair and what he wants done he takes off the rag over his hair and it not as bad the straw hat boy but he's veryyy over due for a retwist. " When the last time you had your hair done? you locs are almost matted?"

" Oh! I don't know what that is, my mom did them and... well, nobody else knew how to manage them"

" It's called a retwist your locs need to maintained and just washing them isn't doing you much good."

" Oh... well can you do that? It'll look nice right?"

" Absolutely, and don't worry about the cost all I ask is you get Nami safe." Sanji questions me even when knowing Nami isn't the best person why I would want her safe I truly didn't know, being friends with her and Nojiko the fond memories of her just can't leave my mind no matter what. Grabbing some clips and a comb with some gel I section and part each loc of his, he winces at every tug and I roll my eyes when he asks is it supposed to hurt, " Well you matted locs hun, it going to a bit painful regardless" I say stilling twisting and clipping his locs as the rest of the men lounge around or read a magazine.

With in a few hours I was done and he was looking good as new, with him looking in the mirror I looked outside and it's dark and I see Arlong and his goon walking towards my salon, turning frantic I tell the Straw hats to give any money to Arlong but they seemed unfazed, well except for Ussop who slowly hid behind the swordsman. Arlong bust through the door and looks eyes with the straw hat and laughs a bone chilling laugh.

" Hello, are you here for-"

" Selling out my location to pirate huh? After the good business I gave you y/n?" I looked confused and tries to explain I dint know they were pirates just new customers but, it gets a vase and smashes it and the memories of his first visit sets in, his crew his walking around touches anything int he room as my pleas for him to get them to stop smashing things are cut off when the swordsmen points a katana at the head of fishmen and threats them. The room grows silent as each of the strange men ae in a fighting stance, Sanji tells me to get out the house and I run out the back door taking any valuables and money with me as I ran, running hearing sounds of clashing and noises of a fights echos in my ear.

It's been two days since I seen those pirates and it hasn't been good for the town, Nami reason for helping Arlong was revealed and a battle between the Straw hats and the fishmen began. It's been quite so far and Nami came back after telling me she trying to buy the village freedom, I welcomed her back with open arms and now at Nojikos home I sit with her talking about old memories when Nami and the pirates come back with new Arlong has been defeated, with praises and thanks you I congratulate their victory.

" Well Nami you've became a pirate, a better one than I thought you would be" I comment and she smiles and apologizes for our earlier past and I forgive her when the Luffy the captain to be asks a funny question

" Your hair place got destroyed in the fight, hope you arent too mad though"

' Eh, it'll better if I just do hair occasionally plus it wasn't too big of space so it'll be alright" I think of ways to make back the money for new supplies when Nami hands me a bag opening it the bad filled with thousands of berries shines ad I almost cry, with this I could open up a new business and get better products even hire people! Hugging Nami, Luffy continues

" You should join us! It'll be nice to have a new crew member!"

The swordsman questioned him saying he just can't ask anyone to join the crew because he finds them nice or cool.

" Plus, I don't fight Luffy, nor do I know how to chart maps that's a nerd thing"

" You can do your hair stuff! Ussop can make a empty room like your salon and you can do our hair!" "And I can charge a fee too... " I mumble to Nojiko and she giggles.

" So, what do you say? It's free housing too!"

"With the chance of getting blown to smithereens?"

" It's the fun part!

Looking at a smiling Luffy I agree, and he tells me they leave tomorrow.

" Y/n Let me ask you something"

"Hm?"

" You did Ussop hair? He looks different..."

" Yes! girl he needed a retwist like 30 days ago!" Laughing that I wonder what new styles I could do being the Straw hat hairstylist, maybe I could twist up a new love in my heart?

[mojo106]

Here we go again...

Someone is trying very desperately to push and sell this "first date in Santa Monica“-story.

This meet up was already mentioned three or four times in the last 1,5 weeks in different DM outlets. But at first not other rag jumped on board. Luckily, JJ has now managed to pick up the DM story and reproduced it more or less poorly.

Did S use his "Con-free" weekend to finally take his phone and call his "go to tabloid" JJ? 🤔

Due to the intended repetitiveness of the DM posts and some more information added in bits and pieces everytime, it looks as if it is necessary to prove something almost immediately after Hooker- and tennisgate? Or to straighten something out?

Presenting a complete antithesis of Miss Panik(ian) (🙏🏻@dhl1966 for this), who was dressed to the nines and was paraded in a more or less elegant setting on the side of a tennis court. To show that blonde women are now again appealing to him?

For someone who supposedly frequents Raya to meet men, this woman didn't look very dressed up. Was she placed next to him in a hurry without having time to freshen up and even comb her hair? (🙋‍♀️ to 🧛🏻)

Just like a 🎠 ride: Who else would like to join? Who hasn't yet?

Summer is most likely not over yet....

[asumofwords]

Smoke, Fire and Ash

Warnings: This fic includes noncon, dubcon, manipulation, violence, death and inc3st. Tags will be added as the fic goes on.

This is a dark!fic. 18+ only. Read at your own discretion. Please read the warnings before continuing.

Summary: You are the eldest daughter of Rhaenyra and Daemon Targaryen. You are forced to navigate the difficult surroundings of your upbringing and the eventual disintegration between your family and the Hightower's relationship. What will happen when your older and estranged uncle suddenly takes a more sinister interest in you? (Dark!Aemond x Reader)

Masterlist

Characters: Aemond Targaryen X Reader, HOTD characters.

Note: All of your replies, and reblogs, and love make my heart so very full! You are all so sweet, thank you so very much! I wish I could reply but I am a dumby who made this blog as a secondary one and tumblr wont let me reply with this account :( this chapter was so bittersweet to write. Currently writing another Aemond POV chapter from this story since you all loved the last one, and will post soon! <3 Thank you all again for all the love you show this fic! <3

Chapter 40: Tales from the dead

It was as if your body was on autopilot. Your feet pushed you forward as fast as you could go, racing toward the two figures, pushing past the pain in your side, or the burning in your lungs.

There they were. They were real. In front of you.

Home. 

And nothing in the world could have prepared you for this moment. You could not think, could not do anything, but run towards them with every bit of strength you had left.

“Y/n?” Queen Rhaenyra’s voice cut across the open air, uncertain as your body ran towards them both. 

“Mother!” You cried out, as you got closer. 

Your father beside her tensed as he watched you. You could see their faces now, Rhaenyra in complete disbelief and Daemon in shock. Your side ached terribly but you pushed on.

Rhaenyra broke away from the path running towards you, hands clenched in her skirts, holding them up as her Knight followed behind her. You ran as fast as your legs could take you, feet slapping against the cold stone as you got closer to each other, when suddenly your bodies collided together. 

You clutched at her robes as she held the back of your head, crying loudly, pressing kisses to the side of your face. You could feel her chest rise and fall, and shake as she sobbed. You inhaled the smell of your mother, and that was when it hit you. 

You were home. 

The dam inside of you broke, and the tears began to fall. You could be strong for them and you would, but in this moment, you could not hold it back. All of the loss, all of that grief and pain, every single part of your experience flooded out of you.

Queen Rhaenyra pulled you back at arms length, looking at you for visible injury, and to reassure herself that you were truly there with her. Her eyes were dark, and face wet with tears. Those beautiful eyes you loved so much, red and raw.

You smiled through it all as you sobbed, before the voice of your father caught your attention.

“Y/n?”

Daemon stood behind your mother looking at you, still in shock, mouth agape. He was dressed in all black as usual, with the Dark Sister blade at his side. He had large bags beneath his eyes, and even his usually neat hair looked as though he had combed many a stressed hand through the silver white strands.

His eyes were glassy.

You nodded your head tearily at him and sobbed louder before he broke the spell, wrapping his arms around both you and your mother. You cried loudly into their arms as they held you tightly. Your father pressing a soft kiss to your head, sniffing into your hair.

The Rogue Prince pulled back, looking down at you, eyes wild searching your face.

“How?”

You craned your neck and looked behind you to the two brothers who stood watching the teary reunion. 

“They helped.” You spoke through your tears, smiling gratefully at the two men whose backs straightened as your mother gazed at both of them.

“It is not as valiant as she tells it to be.” Darras awkwardly intoned.

His brother gave him an irritated look.

“I promised them gold.” 

Your mother looked at both of them as they waited with bated breath for the Queen or King Consorts reaction.

“Give them whatever they want.” Daemon purred to your mothers Knight, before turning his attention back to you.

“Thank you.” Rhaenyra spoke to the Dornish men behind you, voice soft as she still held you.

Sumayl and Darras bowed their heads.

“Come.” The Rogue Prince gently spoke to you and your mother, turning as he began to lead you back up the path to the castle in front of you. 

You stopped in your tracks, before letting go of your mother for one second, turning to walk alone back to the two brothers. You threw your arms over Darras roughly, pulling him into a sharp hug before gently kissing his cheek. 

“Thank you.” You whispered to them both, nodding your head at Sumayl who watched with a softer expression.

“You were not lying.” He stated.

“I was not.”

“Then we are rich men.”

“You are.”

You looked at Darras once more before holding his hand. 

“Please do good by her.”

“I swear this to you, as I did before.” The Dornish man smiled, before you let go of his hand, walking back up to your mothers side who held you close, as your father flanked your other side hovering over you. 

It did not feel real.

You walked up the path together in a blur, your surroundings flying rapidly as you felt your heart beating in your chest. The halls were still the same, the walls were just as you remembered, and there was warmth from the fires inside.

But there was something amiss. 

There was no loud laughter to be heard, nor the racing footsteps of your brothers, nor the recounting of stories in broken High Valyrian. For all that was the same, the castle felt still with the absence of your brother. 

There were no books strewn about your chambers as you were escorted there. There were no snacks on the table, half eaten with crumbs left behind by greedy hands. There was no cloak, or coat or jacket, thrown haphazardly on the chair, or chaise, or bed, by a boy who had grown warm by the fire. 

The emptiness in the room stifled you. 

Your bed had been made, your sheets had been changed, and the fireplace was still lit in your absence, waiting for your return. And although the room was full of your two maids who doted on you, and the Maester and your parents, you still could not help but feel alone. 

Even when Joffrey came to your side, and your eldest brother came and gripped you so hard you could not breathe, and the pain in your side caused you to cry out, and all those around you rushed to inspect what was wrong, there was still something missing. 

There was no small mop of brown hair in your room. No small boy to laugh at your silly jokes, or listen to your tales of Old Valyria. There was no small boy to eat dates with in secret, or fall asleep beside the fireplace as he told you stories of ghosts. There was no little boy who was scared of the sea, or becoming the Lord of Driftmark. 

He was gone. 

And with him, a piece of you died.

And as you sat in shock in your chambers which suddenly began to suffocate you, you could not help but notice that he was not there to comfort your anxiety, to hold your hand and soothe you. His cherubic smile was not there to assure you that everything would work itself out.

There was a stillness to the castle that had not been there before.

The brave little Velaryon boy who had stood up to his uncle with a blade was no longer. The small boy who loved so deeply, no longer existed. Your brother was gone. 

Lucerys was dead.   

And the castle was still.

Your surroundings rushed back around you and suddenly your father was standing before your face, uttering your name softly in concern.

You blinked. Once. Twice. And felt your face wet with tears. You sniffed and apologised softly, as you looked about the room. 

Your two maids stood by the fire, stoking the flames whilst peering back at you in concern. The Maester had brought more maids to the room with medical supplies, and had begun to fuss about the table beside you as you sat numbly. 

Your mother stood at your side, stroking your hair gently as she watched you with hawk like eyes, whilst your brother, Jacaerys stood beside her, watching you in concern.

“Sorry.” You cleared your throat.

“My sweet, there is nothing to be sorry for.”

If only they knew the truth.

You felt that vile wave surge inside you again, grief clawing its way up your throat as you looked down in your hands. You fought against the tide that surged within, its dark thick crest rising inside of you. You began to drown in it, falling deeper and deeper into its swell as it dragged you down, reality catching up to you.

You had been in survival mode for so long, that now that you stopped, you felt yourself slipping. You sucked in a ragged breath as your ears rang. You cleared your throat again, sniffing as the ringing disappeared and the surge subsided.

The Maester spoke again, in a tone that alluded to him having asked you once, or perhaps even twice already.

“Where are you injured, Princess?” The old man asked. 

Numbly you pulled the large shirt from beneath the loose breeches, pulling it up your side as you leant to expose the makeshift bandages that Darras had given you. You felt your mothers hand still against the back of your head.

“May I?” The Maester asked.

You nodded, looking away, eyes fixating on a spot on the floor by the fire. You had sat there before many times. Reading, or drinking or eating with Lucerys. Playing games with him and your brothers. Teaching him High Valyrian, listening to his ghost tales. And despite the spot being before the flames of the fire, it looked cold. Empty.

Still.

The Maester's steady hands began to softly and slowly, as to not hurt or frighten you, unravel the rags from your side. 

Time stood still.

Your mother gasped quietly beside you, as the last of the rags were pulled away. The Maester came closer inspecting the injury as you felt the hot gaze of two violet eyes staring at the wound. 

Your gaze moved from the floor to the Rogue Prince, who stood in front of you. His hand was clenched on the hilt of the Dark Sister blade, whilst the other was stiff beside him. His eyes were burning with rage as they never left your side, jaw tensed and nostrils flaring. 

“Princess,” The Maester began, unsure of how to continue, “These are quite extensive.”

“How?” Your mother blurted.

“Aemond.” You uttered, voice quiet in the room. 

A flash of black moved in front of you, as Daemon began to storm out the chambers, hand on the hilt of his blade, fury rolling off of his tense shoulders.

“Where are you going?” Your mother called across the room.

“Where do you think? I am going to end this as we should have in the beginning. With their heads mounted on spikes.” Daemon spat.

“Kepa.” (Father) You softly called out to him.

His eyes flicked to yours as you called.

“Please.” You begged. "I have only just got you back."

The Rogue Prince stood as he made a hard decision, unsure of how to react as he stared at you, watching him in anticipation. The Prince looked at his wife, before back you, and slowly made his way back over, standing in front of you again, watching as the Maester continued to inspect your side.

His gentle fingers prodded at what was left of the stitches. Humming as he softly wiped you with a wet cloth. The cloth stung as it touched your wound and you grunted, flinching away.

“It seems that they treated your injury whilst in the Red Keep.”

You nodded down at the healer.

“You’ve healed well.”

You nodded again. The cloth stroked you gently.

“Though I see you have torn some stitches here.” His finger hovered above the open part of your wound, which had begun to heal thickly beneath.

“New bruising.” The man muttered to himself as he looked on.

“New?” Your father asked.

Maester Gerardys hummed, finger hovering around your side where the stitches has pulled loose, dark bruising blooming from the edges, underneath the old yellowed bruises. 

You did not look up, nor did you attempt to. 

You did not have the strength to meet your fathers eyes just yet, or recount your days in the Keep, or tell them of Aegon’s assault. Or how you spent days in your room listening to the wails and cries of your aunt at their hands. 

Or how you fell into the depths of a storm after watching the brother you failed to protect, be crushed by Vhagar’s jaws. Or how you watched your own dragon be attacked as you plummeted towards the sea below, unable to do anything. 

You found that you did not even have the strength to tell them you were okay. 

Nor did you have the strength to lie. 

The wave began to build inside you again. 

Thanks so much for reading along with me, if you wish to be added to the tag list please let me know :) Likes and reblogs are greatly appreciated ! Enjoy <3

Tag List:

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[lewisvinga]

maybe | pablo gavi x fem! reader

requested; yes !

request; i love your writing!! could you write an enemies or rivals to lovers with gavi (if you write for him) or jude ? thank you <3

note; gavi<33, lol but my requests r closed rn, gonna have to say it in every post bc i keep getting requests after saying they r closed like 10 times <\\3

cw// creepy drunk men, drinking,

masterlist !

Being Pedri’s sister, many would assume that you were also close with Pablo. But they were wrong. Ever since meeting him, you two have never gotten along.

He wouldn’t hesitate to insult you or annoy you whenever he saw you. You did the same thing to him and it only would get him angry. Even Pedri was confused on your rivalry with him.

It was a beautiful night in Barcelona and you went with Pedri to a club to celebrate his great win. When you both arrived, you see Pablo sitting at a table with other players and their girlfriends. Much to your luck, the only seat available was the one next to him.

You tried to ignore the fact that you were seated next to the man you hated the most. So far, everything was going fine in the night until you went to the bar to grab a drink. A tall blonde blue eyed man came up to you and wraps his arm around your waist right as you were about to pay for your drink. “Put the ladies drink on my tab. I got her covered.”

You glances up at him and try to take a step back. “It’s okay, I can- I can pay for myself.”

“Come on, pretty girl, let me pay.” He says as he leans in close to you. You could smell alcohol coming from him and it made you sick to your stomach. The bartender hands you your drink but you had forgotten about it, all you wanted to do was stay away.

“Dance with me.” He says as he drags you to the dance floor.

Pablo was watching from afar. He noticed your scared and uncomfortable expression. Without thinking, he quickly made his way over to you and pulls you away from the drunk creep. “Amor, hey, I was looking for you. Wanna head out now?”

You look up and him and realizes what he was doing. You smile at him as you wrap his arms around him, “Yeah, let’s go, babe.”

“Hey, I had her first!” The drink man slurred.

Pablo glares at him as he pulls you away from him, taking a step in front of you. “My girlfriend doesn’t want to talk, we’ll be going now.” He tells him, trying his hardest to snap at the guy. He felt you tugging on his arm. All you wanted to do was leave the situation and go outside to take a deep breath.

He looks over at you and notices your uncomfortable expression. He glared at the drunk man before quickly leading you outside of the club. “Are you okay, y/n?” He asks once you two were finally out.

“I am now. Thank you, Pablo, I-I really appreciated it.” You reply, looking up at him as you lean against the outside wall of the club. You suddenly started to see him in a different light. You took a moment to study his features. His round brown eyes looked at you full of concern. His hair was nearly combed to the side and it made him look good.

Pablo also saw you differently. He felt so protective over you when he saw you talking to the man. He couldn’t deny it, but you looked gorgeous that night. He felt flustered the moment he saw you enter with Pedri.

Before you knew it, you both started to lean in and there was very little space between you two. Pablo closes the small gap, cupping your cheek as he gently kissed you. Your kiss was filled with every emotion you had felt for him. Passion, anger, even love was communicated through your kiss.

You both pull away, both out of breath from the kiss. “You have no idea how much i’ve been wanting to do that all night, ángel.” Pablo says, a wide smile appearing on his lips that were now stained by your red lipstick.

You let out a small chuckle as you reach up to wipe away the lipstick. “Don’t know what came over me, but I liked that. A lot.”

“Wanna ditch this place and go out with me?”

You raise your eyebrow as you straighten the collar on his white button up. “Are you asking me on a date, Pablo?”

He gives you his signature smile, slowly nodding in reply. “Maybe I am.” He says. He leans in close to you, leaving a small gap again between you too. “So will you go out with me?”

You glance down at his lips again before looking back at how brown round eyes. “I’d love to.” He took the chance to lean in and press a soft kiss on your lips.

“Let’s go then, ángel.”

[morningstargirl666]

WIP WEDNESDAY

Working on the 20s Decade Dance chapters right now and god, is it getting good. I think this klaroline scene is shaping up to be one of my favourite scenes yet...

Caroline smiled, leaning into Tyler’s hold. The song playing through the gym hall had changed, slowing to a soft, melodic number. Tyler’s right hand had drifted to her waist, the other holding her own hand, the two of them gently swaying across the floor, chests brushing each other. Tyler smiled at her, leaning closer, their foreheads almost touching.

Then something changed.

Tyler tensed, his whole body going rigid as he straightened his back, eyes darting around them, looking for something he had obviously sensed was there.

A worried frown gracing her face, Caroline asked quietly, “What is it?”

Tyler didn’t answer, head turning and finally locking onto something. Caroline turned her head and followed his gaze, stilling in his arms when she saw who was standing there, several feet away amongst the crowd, silently watching them dance.

Klaus was dressed in a sharp, tailored three-piece suit that put most of the other men’s outfits to shame. Caroline could just make out his pale blue chequered tie had a silver pin attached to it, no doubt as expensive as the rest of the ensemble, a golden silk handkerchief tucked into the front pocket of the jacket. A silver chain — attached to an authentic, 1920s pocket watch no doubt — could be just glimpsed behind the fabric of his jacket, disappearing into his vest pocket. His hair looked different from the last time she’d seen it too, combed and gelled back, taming the unruly dirty blond curls into submission.

His expression though — the sight made Caroline’s blood run cold. She’d seen a lot of emotions cross his face lately. She remembered clearly the ones that had scared her, the anger and fear that flooded his face when Kol had been daggered — the unbridled fury when Sam had attacked her. But this was nothing like that. His eyes were fixed on Tyler with an unwavering intensity that left her feeling an inexplicable amount of dread, his gaze flickering to where Tyler’s hand rested on her hip every few seconds. She couldn’t identify the emotion on his face this time. She couldn’t read him at all.

Then he stepped forward, approaching them slowly, moving with a predator-like grace. As ageless as their kind were, it was easy to forget what he was. He was powerful and he was violent, with more strength in his pinky finger than Caroline had in her entire body. But she had never thought he looked particularly intimidating — he wasn’t as tall as Damon or Elijah, his build thinner, more lithe. The youth still clinging to his face was equally deceiving and his stride was always so confident, so casual, she often forgot how old he really was. But as he walked towards them now — steps silent, body still, almost gliding across the floor — she finally saw the distinct otherness that clung to him like a shadow. The movement was a little too perfect, a little too practised. And the way his gaze stayed fixed on Tyler, steadfast in its resolution, calm and quiet in a way a vampire never was, often driven feral by bloodlust…

…Well.

It was almost… wolf-like.

“Where you been, mate?” he asked in greeting, a dangerous edge to his casual tone.

Caroline glanced back at Tyler, resting her gloved hands on his shoulder, offering her support. Tyler, to his credit, remained calm, even though her own heart hammered inside her chest.

“I just got back in town.”

Klaus’ eyes darkened, settling on Tyler and remaining there like a death sentence. “That’s funny. I don’t recall giving you permission to leave in the first place.”

Caroline felt Tyler’s grip tighten on her waist but he didn’t reply, standing his ground. Klaus stared at him for several more tense seconds before his expression loosened, lips curling into a friendly smile.

“You don’t mind if I cut in, do you?” he asked, taking another step forward so he was practically an arm’s length away from Caroline.

She gritted her teeth in response, turning out of Tyler’s arms and facing him head on. “Yes, actually, we do.”

For the first time, Klaus met her eyes. Whatever unidentifiable emotion that had flooded his eyes at the sight of Tyler dissipated the second their gazes locked, something relaxing in his stance. Then the moment was lost as his gaze shifted, turning on Tyler as he tilted his gaze down, a ghost of a smirk settling there.

The implied order was clear.

Tyler’s grip on her waist tightened again, enough that she tensed, before he finally let go, removing his hand entirely.

“No,” he said, causing Caroline to glance over at him in confusion. He gave a reassuring nod, before turning his gaze back to Klaus, stepping back. “It’s fine.”

Caroline felt anger flare in her heart, hating the way Klaus smiled upon hearing Tyler’s words. 

She whirled on him to glare at his smug face, every line of her braced for a fight. “Why do you always have to prove you’re the alpha male?”

Klaus frowned at her, appearing highly offended. “I don’t have to prove anything, love, I am the alpha male.”

Caroline scoffed, shaking her head at his audacity. Klaus wasn’t deterred.

“Come on, one dance.” He offered her his hand, flashing a dimpled smile. “I won’t bite.”

Caroline’s eyes narrowed. Unwanted, her mind wandered to what Sam had told her about what blood sharing between vampires truly meant, and she realised Tyler would have no idea how much his statement was more flirt than threat.

She turned her head, looking back at her boyfriend. Tyler kept his gaze forward, refusing to look at her, playing the part of the obedient, sire-bonded hybrid perfectly even while his entire body stood stiffly with fury. Her heart sank and when she looked back at Klaus, he was still waiting for her hand. Reluctantly, she stepped forward, settling her fingers in his. She planned to keep her gaze averted, to refuse to look at him out of spite, but one accidental glance was all it took, their eyes meeting just for a moment, and Klaus smiled. It wasn’t the smirk he’d given Tyler, or the slightly sharp smile he’d used to invite her to dance — it was a real smile. A genuine one. The same smile he’d thrown at her when she’d called him disgustingly charming on that bench in the town square, or when they’d stood and talked in his studio about travelling the world, laughing at his cheesy lines.

It didn’t fit into her black and white view of him, didn’t fit with the man that had just silently ordered her boyfriend to back off and be a good, little hybrid. Caroline immediately looked away, following him without protest as he led her backwards to dance. When he stopped, his other hand settling respectfully on her waist, the warmth of it burning through her dress, she tried to relax in his arms, afraid he’d comment on how tense she was. He didn’t, thankfully. But out of the corner of her eye, she noticed his smile falter, his touch loosening, becoming softer, allowing her to move away if she wanted to. 

“You would have loved the 1920s Caroline,” he began, breaking the silence between them when they had slowly begun to sway to the music. His voice was tentative at first, as if hoping to coax her out of the fortress she’d secluded herself within, before it grew more confident, evidently deciding to power on through. He leaned forward, breath ghosting her ear too close to be proper. “Girls were reckless, sexy, fun. They literally used to dance until they dropped.”

He spun her, chuckling at some memory he must be lost in, and Caroline kept her eyes fixed on a spot over his shoulder, refusing to look at him as she valiantly ignored how that accent did something to her. 

“Don’t suppose that ever happened to their dance partners,” she muttered dryly.

This time, his smile didn’t just falter, but completely fell. Not in a dark, foreboding way, like when one his masks dropped, revealing the beast underneath. More in a I-thought-that-would-work way, because of course he did. God forbid Klaus Mikaelson not get what he wanted. Yeah, nice try buster, but you’re not as charming as you think you are. 

He frowned, eyeing her as they swayed to the music. “Have I done something to upset you lately? You weren’t nearly as cross with me the last time we talked.”

She shot him a glare. “The last time we talked, your hybrid tried to kill me.”

His lips quirked up into that crooked smirk again and he leaned in closer, lowering his voice next to her ear as he tilted his head at her. “I think you and I have very different recollections of the last time we talked, sweetheart.”

Anxiously, Caroline’s gaze flickered over his shoulder, landing on Tyler still standing several feet away. His fists had clenched upon hearing Klaus’ words, eyes fixed dangerously on his sire. She swallowed. When her gaze returned to Klaus, he was grinning at her, his back to Tyler but no doubt entirely aware of the holes being burned into his head. 

Anger, hot and blinding, flared in her chest and her fingers tightened around his hand in warning, her nails digging into his shoulder without even meaning to.

“Oh, really?” she said dryly, all her rage simmering under layers of eloquently delivered sass. “How would you remember it then?”

She’d intended the question to reveal the truth of the encounter — that dangerous temper of his that came out when Kol was daggered; the fear she’d felt as Sam turned on her, fangs and claws bared. But as soon as she opened her mouth, the spark in his eye made her realise she’d made a grave mistake.

“I remember you looked beautiful in the moonlight, so much so that I was struck by the urge to paint you right then and there, in the middle of the town square,” he said, so earnestly. Her eyes caught his and she froze, barely even aware they were still moving, gently swaying and turning in each other’s arms. “I remember how your pretty words were revealed to be little more than lies, a cunning act to distract me from your friends' foolish acts against my family,” he continued, a harsher bite to his words. He leaned in even closer, so their faces were barely inches apart and her heart hammered inside her chest, catching the dangerous glint in his eye as they flashed with fury. Then it was gone, as quickly as it appeared, his shoulders slumping with defeat. “And most of all, I remember saving your life despite every sense of logic dictating I should have left you to your fate.”

Caroline’s voice was hoarse when she finally spoke. Guilt tore uneasily at her insides. “Rebekah was going to kill Elena.”

“You should have told me that then.”

She scoffed, the sound full of derision, leaning away from him and breaking the spell that had left her paralysed. “Like you would have saved her.”

“I would have. If you had been the one to ask.” 

His words, so very earnest and so very honest, caught her off guard all over again and she couldn’t help but stare, unable to say anything else. The worst thing was, she believed him.

God, she believed him.

[diefxrguns]

𝐓𝐄𝐀𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐑'𝐒 𝐏𝐄𝐓

✯pairings- erwin smith x afab!reader

✯a/n- might be some mistakes, apologies. Do not share on tiktok without my permission. not glamourising pedophilia, Y/N is 18

✯synopsis- your teacher develops strong feelings for a specific girl in his classroom

✯ c/w- smut, teacher x student relationship. choking, spanking, and more- not comfortable? dont read.

"teacher's pet, if I'm so "special. Why am I a secret?" ✧

Your eyes couldn't concentrate on the board infront of you, never in your life have you felt this way for somebody.

Despite all the love letters from boys in your class and offers to go out on dates, boys your age-just didn't do it for you. Ya know.

There was always something about older fellows, but not to old. Maybe 25-35 since you were 18. It was appropriate after all- well for some people atleast.

Your mother would die if she saw the things that kept you up at night, on your laptop a stash of porn videos. All in the same category of porn. You had a thing for manthers, not the creepy pedophilic one's. The men who are like 30 with 20 year old girlfriends. Sounds normal right.

So when your new teacher entered the classroom, you almost fell out of your seat. His arms, his hair, everything about this man was just so fucking sexy.

He wore a blue button up shirt, that was long sleeved, but the sleeves were rolled up a bit- revealing his toned forearms. His pants were black and his blonde hair was combed back.

He had to be in his early 30's, but my God did he look so delicious.

He's an English, History and Biology teacher so he would be teaching you English and History, since those are the classes you had.

He started off by introducing himself, and went straight to work. Instructing the class to open their books on page 116. He got down to business, you could tell he was one- track minded.

His voice was so deep and demanding, but somewhat calm and smooth. He explained the work diligently. Making sure everyone understood the English lesson- before dismissing the class and closing the whiteboard marker.

As the days passed you did nothing but gawk at him, in classes you barley even payed attention. And oh- he knew you weren't listening. How your pretty eyes just stared into space, he knew exactly what you were looking at. He's way smarter then he looks.

There was one particular day, after class. You were looking at him the whole time, and he knew- but it bugged him because exams were coming up and you never took notes once. He knew your grades were sky high, and he didn't want you to fail your examinations. So he called you after class.

" Miss Y/N, please stay behind and take a seat" he said, as you were on your way out the classroom.

" Yes" you said in timid voice because of how shy and slightly intimidated you were

The older man sat on a chair opposite you, his back hunched and his elbows on his knees, he removed his glasses and looked you directly in the eye

" You're not paying attention, you think I don't know, you think I don't see how much you're looking into space during my lessons"

" Mr Smith, I'm really sorry " you said with fake sympathy, in all honesty you didn't give a fuck about his lessons. He's eye candy- who wouldn't look at him.

"Your results went from 93 to 50, your practice test results where lower then I expected. A five star student, became mediocre over night. I advise you tell me what's on your mind Y/N" he said straightening his posture and leaning back, never breaking eye contact with you

" Mr Smith, I've just been distracted lately, ya know, Like something is really troubling me". What you just said was true, something was bugging you. Everytime this fine ass man opens his mouth, breathes or even looks your way you cream your pants, leaving a stain on your lacey panties. That's the real problem.

" Ah, I see. Well, as your teacher I suppose you need to trust me with whatever it is you're going through. You need to get it out of your system so we can work through this" he said

" Well, I...um, i- I got dumped by my ex boyfriend and.. well he, he really hurt me. Its bothered me alot" you lied through your teeth, you never had a boyfriend. You just said that so that Erwin could feel sorry for you.

Immediately Erwin stood up and knelt down to your level, holding your hand gently. In this moment your heart was racing, you didn't know how to react.

What the fuck was actually going on here? Your teacher( crush) was kneeling down holding your hand, this was to much to handle.

" Y/N, I need you to not focus on other boys ok- they're a waste of time, I need you to think about bigger things. Like college and a husband maybe? You need a man that's going to take care of you, love you..."

Your chest was rising up and down as you took intense breathes, he was so close to you. His warmth was radiating off his big body onto your smaller one.

" After school I'll take you to my place, so that I can prepare you for upcoming examinations... Sound ok?" He asked as he stood up fixing his tie and getting his things

" ye-yes, it sounds awesome" you said standing up in a hurry and giving your teacher a big smile.

Everyday afterschool Erwin took you to his home.

He lived in a very spacious house, it was small but modern and fancy. A two story home with two bedrooms and two bathrooms.

He had two cats aswell, a grey one and a white one. Grey one named Oscar and the white one named Bunny.

His home smelled like vanilla and sandalwood, it was clean with grey and white accents. He obviously lived alone, but damn how can such a handsome and astound man be single.

He sat you at the dining room table with your books and tutored you, and helped you make notes for your exams.

He spent three hours after school tutoring you.

You were beyond grateful for this opportunity, because it made you and Erwin closer.

Even though you never really spoke about personal things, subconsciously your souls were somewhat aligned. Almost like you had a connection that you couldn't explain or describe, you just felt comfortable around each other.

A little to comfortable

After examinations, you stopped going to Erwin's home. There was no need afterall, I mean he stopped tutoring you because exams were over.

In all honesty you missed it, you missed him. So one afternoon you went to his house to give him some treats, just to say thank you.

You knocked on his door, patiently waiting for him to open it

And in that very moment your heart shattered, the pain you felt when the door opened, only to be greeted by an older women, her late 20's to be precise. Her ginger/ strawberry blonde hair was wavy and shiny. And her body was curvaceous and slim

Her nails painted red, she wore a tight black dress and heels, with pearls around her neck- and the cherry on top of the cake, was the 24K diamond ring she wore on her ring finger, indicating she is married.

Your face went red, not with anger. But with sadness, you felt like a fucking idiot. Falling for you teacher.

" Oh hello dear, you must be Erwin's student, please come inside. He must be thrilled to see you" she said, in a nice tone of voice as she let you inside

" Erwin! Honey, your student is here to see you" she yelled for her " husband" as she told you to sit and offered you a cup of tea

" Oh my, Y/N. This is rather unexpected. Why have you come?" Erwin asked as he dried his hair, obviously he just came out the shower.

You tried to swallow the lump in your throat, your eyes were visibly watery indicating you were about to burst into tears.

But you had to suck it up, and pretend like nothing was wrong

" I..I um- I brought you some gifts, just to say thank you for helping me with studying" you said handing him the gift bag

A smile appeared on Erwin's face as he opened the bag filled with chocolates, and sweets . But at the bottom of the gift bag was a letter, expressing your feelings to Erwin- and how you really felt about him.

He opened the letter silently, and reading it rather quickly before clenching his jaw, his smile faded into a puzzling expression. And he looked at you for a mere second before sitting on the barstool next to you.

His wife still making tea for the both of you including herself.

" So Y/N isn't it? How is school treating you?" She asked sitting across from you and Erwin.

" Well... Its, it's, it's great actually. Thanks to Mr Smith, your husband." You said, in a fake- nice tone of voice.

She didn't catch on to your obvious sarcasm but Erwin knew exactly how you felt about her, as said before he's smarter then he looks.

" Oh well, Erwin here isn't my husband, not yet. He's actually my fiance, we're getting married...soon I suppose" she said giving you a smile and sipping on her tea.

" That's wonderful news" you said sipping the tea.

Erwin sat in silence, drinking his tea and staring elsewhere, not daring to make eye contact with you or his fiance.

" Oh my, I haven't even introduced myself. I'm Mari Dawk" she said flashing you another smile.

" You see Smith and I met in our military days, he just caught my eye, he was one with the ladies too. She said waffling on about how her and Erwin met and how they got together. But in all honesty you weren't listening, frankly you didn't care, you were to hurt to listen to these stories.

She talked to much, but she was extremely friendly. You could see why Erwin was engaged to her, Mari would make a wonderful mother.

A few minutes passed and it was time for you to leave. You couldn't spend more time in this house, with Erwin and this woman.

So you said your goodbyes and offered to clean up.

"Can I help with anything, washing my mug?" You asked Mari

" No that won't be necessary Y/N, go home and get some rest it's late " said Erwin in a monotone voice.

You shut the door behind you and made your way home...

A few days passed and your behaviour changed drastically, you barely ate and you no longer enjoyed your usual habits.

You were on a break so you never saw Erwin.

When school was back on, you payed attention in class and actually wrote notes. He noticed your change in attitude towards him.

You no longer smiled at him when you entered to classroom, you no longer greeted him or said goodbye.

It was like you changed...

When the history lesson was over, you were the last student to pack your bag. Getting ready to leave, when Erwin closed the classroom door, locking it

" Why did you lock the door? I need to go home it's afterschool" you said in a cold tone of voice, not looking at him once, packing your textbooks into your backpack.

" Y/N, please stop this little act you're doing. You think I don't what you're up to? " Erwin said standing with his hands in his pockets, a few steps away from you.

" I don't care, if you don't mind I'd like to leave Mr Smith. I don't have time for this. If it isn't about schoolwork I'm not interested" you said

" The letter you wrote to me, well... It made me emotional Y/N" he said stepping closer and closer to you, only inches away

At this point you felt so broken and drained, it wasn't exactly his fault. How was he supposed to know you liked him and besides it's his life, he can't just dump his fiance for you.

" Mr Smith, I appreciate everything you've done. I'm sorry for that letter, I wasn't in the right head space. I just had a small crush, it was nothing serious. Please go back home to your wife and forget everything. " You said tears threatening to spill from your eyes as those words were so hard to say.

You couldn't lie anymore, you loved Erwin Smith. His smile, the way he comforted you and motivated you. His kindness, his leadership, his empathy. Everything about him lured you in. You still had feelings for him, you tried ignoring them and ignoring him. But truthfully you were hooked like a worm on a fishing rod.

As you were about to walk past him, he grabbed your arm. Forcing you back to him, his arm was strong. At this point you couldn't break free from his hold, even if you tried.

He held your waist, and placed a hand on your back rubbing it gently.

Things were getting out of hand, luckily there were no surveillance in his classroom.

" Y/N, I know I hurt you. I'm sorry, I'm sorry for leading you on. Truthfully I knew you liked me, I knew from day one. And I liked you too. Not in a daughter way, I like you romantically, I don't have feelings for Mari anymore. She cheated on me with one of my friends, and she came back. The only reason I let her back into my life was because my morals were telling me, that loving you is wrong. " The blonde man said with pain in his voice, he was being serious, he was genuine.

A passionate kiss was placed upon your pink lips as Erwin held you tightly in his arms.

Your hands made their way to his neck, rubbing the back of his neck slowly. Enjoying the kiss.

Erwin began to move his hands from your waist to your ass, lifting up your skirt as he squeezed your cheeks.

He broke away from the kiss

" Do I have your consent Y/N?" He asked as he looked you dead in the eye waiting for you to respond

" Yes, yes you have my consent" you said.

He kissed you even more, before bending you over his desk. Only to pull your panties down

" hmm, won't you look at that hey. All wet for me already, I haven't even touched this pussy yet"

He began rubbing your folds gently, making you whimper from every touch.

Erwin flipped you over, you sat on his large desk with you legs spread for him to see.

He unbuttoned your school shirt and threw it elsewhere.

And unclipped your bra, letting your pretty breasts drop.

He couldn't believe it, the sight of your pretty body, made him so fucking hard.

He gave you a kiss before flipping you back over again and kneeling down to your pussy. His tongue flicked across your already- wet folds, earning moans from you everytime.

He eventually inserted his cock into your pussy, fucking you slowly at first. Gradually he fucked you even faster, causing you to moan loudly.

Echo's could be heard throughout the empty classroom, as well as moans and pants.

The both of you came a few times, before deciding it'll be best to leave the school, before you both got caught doing your lewd activities.

And after cleaning up the classroom and getting dressed, Erwin grabbed you and kissed you once again

The words " I love you" falling from his lips

All rights reserved ©

[crow-aeris]

Damian’s first meeting with Bruce | To Brace Upon Benign Feathers

Damian picked himself up from the dusty ground, his tail lashing through the blood-stained sand as he wiped away the crimson clinging to the corner of his mouth. The fledgling could feel bruises blossoming along his torso, legs, and face, but he at least made it out with his life.

Damian's opponent didn't have the same luxury.

"Better," a voice commented in the League dialect.

The harpy eagle straightened, folding his wings tighter against his back as he peered at his mother. The imperial eagle looked him over critically before nodding in approval, "After careful discussion with your Grandfather, we have designed you prepared for training beneath your father. We have forged you into a blade, Damian, and your father will sharpen you."

His mother turns away, beckoning Damian with a sweep of her elegant tail. The fledgling trailed after, carefully keeping his distance from his mother's blade-laced tail. Damian struggled slightly to keep up with the imperial eagle's strides, but he managed. Eventually, they reached Talia's private office- one of the few areas within the facility that was hidden from Grandfather's near-omnipresent eyes.

Talia waited until Damian fully entered the room before shutting the door with a flick of her heavy wing. She beckoned him closer, and Damian obeyed- eagerly tilting his face into her clawed hands. His mother's palms always smelled like blood, which should've been disconcerting to some, but Damian knew she would never use her claws on him.

The fledgling felt his mother gently brush her tail against his, and Damian returned the action.

"Will you tell me Father's identity?" Damian asked, suppressing his purrs as careful claws combed through Damian's feathers.

His mother hums in consideration, "No, I will not. Think of this as... a trial. All I will say is he lives in Gotham..."

-----

Bruce swept between the buildings, his dark wings skimming past the apartments' walls. With a flick of his tail, Bruce made a narrow turn and latched onto the side of the building. With narrowed eyes, Batman waited a few seconds before diving.

The harpy eagle slammed into his target, avoiding his spine as he pinned the man's wings against the ground.

"Where is he hiding?" Batman snarled, grunting as the man tried to stab a hidden knife into Bruce's side. Thankfully, the kevlar was enough to impede the knife, but it was enough to distract him.

The man screeched, scrabbling in panic and somehow hitting a solid hit against Bruce's chest. His suit's flexible yet sturdy material absorbed and distributed the impact, but that didn't mean it didn't hurt.

Bruce rattled out a low hiss, looming over the man with flared wings that seemed to suck the light from around them. The man froze in fear, and Bruce took the chance to knock him out, tying up the man for Gordan's men to collect and subsequently interrogate.

With a weary sigh, Bruce spread his wings and took into the sky. The harpy eagle glided over Park Row when a sudden weight slammed into his side.

The eagle hissed, flicking his tail to reorient himself as the weight continued clinging to Bruce's side. A sharp pain stabbed into his side, slicing through the kevlar as Bruce twisted and slammed himself against the side of a building. Still, the assailant continued to cling to Bruce's side.

He hissed, feeling claws sink into the flesh of his wings, dislodging the two from the side of the apartment. Bruce twisted, flaring his wings to slow their descent before allowing his assailant to crash into the ground. Bruce lurched away, carefully watching the other's movements before realizing that his assailant was a fledgling-

Narrowed emerald eyes glared at him through wild hair, lips pulled back to reveal sharpened fangs. Taking advantage of Bruce's shock, the fledgling lunged.

The black-clad vigilante flared his wings, barely dodging the child's blow before allowing a low, threatening rattle to escape his throat, his voice modulator struggling to keep up with the eagle's snarls, "Who are you?"

The fledgling narrowed his eyes, and faster than Bruce could react, there was a blur, and Bruce's back slammed against the concrete. He could only struggle upright when the fledgling unsheathed a katana and pointed it at Bruce's throat.

The wicked blade gleamed in the pale light, a mere centimeter away from the eagle's jugular.

"Hello, Father," the fledgling sneered, emerald eyes gleaming as the clouds momentarily parted to illuminate the young child with a threatening halo, "I expected more from you."

[callsign-phoenix]

I wrote this because I wanted to write a multichapter fic and had the idea for this, so I hope you like it!

It is a Robert ‘Bob’ Floyd x female!reader set in the 1940s imagine.

Thank you @footprintsinthesxnd for proofreading!

Warnings: this fic is racially and body type inclusive despite the moodboard suggesting otherwise

The dim bar was remarkably busy for a Thursday evening, but that was because of the squadron of young sailors that spread out over the entirety of the establishment.

There were some uniform-clad men found chatting up ladies sitting by the bar or on small circular tables, while others were content playing darts and sipping on their beer bottles talking and laughing amongst themselves.

Music played softly from a record player by the end of the counter and some people swayed to the music, either subconsciously or wrapped in their partner’s arms, tightly holding onto them and not wanting to let go.

You were sitting by the quieter end of the counter with your gin rickey in hand, talking to your friend Carole, who had taken the evening shift.

She liked her job as a barmaid and she loved being flirted with by any man in a uniform, be it Army, Navy, or even Air Force.

You weren’t quite as adventurous or brave and you didn’t want any man’s attention, you had decided that you were waiting for the right person to come along, you weren’t in a rush.

You let your gaze wander over the sea of people, your eyes getting caught on a bespectacled young man by the dartboard.

He was wearing the same uniform as the others but he seemed more timid than them, not quite engaging in the conversation yet gladly listening to his companions.

You didn’t realize it but a smile appeared on your face as you were watching him, taking in his presence in the room full of people who wanted to be seen.

The young man had his blond hair neatly combed and gelled back to reveal his face and his uniform seemed especially straightened.

He was focused on listening to his friends’ conversation so you had time to get a proper look at him, which you were grateful for.

Both your and his attention were redirected when you heard a man’s voice yell loudly as someone entered the bar.

You frowned when you saw a man with the top button of his uniform shirt already open in the doorway, a wide grin on his face as he yelled back to the man who had addressed him.

When you glanced back at the most timid of the sailors he grimaced slightly, redirecting his eyes to his friend and saying something you couldn’t understand.

“You should go over there and tell your boy you like him,” Carole spoke up and your mouth opened in immediate protest as your head whipped back around to face her.

“I don’t even know if he’d like me,” you said softly, but Carole just chuckled in reply.

“Any guy who has eyes likes you, you’re just too shy to know that,” she answered you.

The rest of the evening only got louder as the sailors got drunker and drunker.

Like for the men, the level of alcohol in your blood rose until you finally found yourself brave enough to go up to the sailor, who still kept fixed in his corner of the room, with various amounts of company.

Just when you finally felt ready you saw a girl walk up towards him, hugging him and pulling all of his attention towards her.

The two of them were caught in an intense conversation and your mood turned sour as you watched them, both entirely happy and comfortable with each other, talking about something that seemed to be important to them.

The sailor blushed a little and while you couldn’t see a wedding band adorning their ring fingers, everyone who had eyes could see that they meant a lot to each other.

Your eyelids fluttered and you turned away from them to face your friend, for the first time in hours looking directly back at her, not feeling the need to turn around.

You felt a bitter taste rise in your throat and you tried to mask it with a sip of your drink when someone’s elbows unceremoniously landed next to your hand on the counter.

“Your finest martini please, I’m here to celebrate,” the girl that had just taken your sailor away from you said to Carole who nodded at her, going to work without a reply, to show you she was on your side of things.

You glanced back over your shoulder to see the sailor standing by himself, cupping his hands in front of him as his eyes lay on his friend and you.

It made you turn your head back quickly.

“We’ve been friends since kindergarten, and he just told me that he’s been waiting for you to come over for about two and a half hours now,” the girl next to you said, turning to face you with a grin that was the perfect mixture of daring and charming.

“He’s too shy to get anything done, that’s why he has me,” she added, nodding at Carole as she thanked her for the drink before reaching a hand out to shake yours.

“I’m Jess, I’m sure we’re going to see a lot more of each other,” she introduced herself, the smile on her painted-red lips was infectious.

While Carole mirrored your new acquaintance’s smile you were caught off guard, your face resembling a confused frown more than anything else.

“I’m sorry, what?” You asked as you automatically reached to shake her hand, turning Jess’ smile into one a little more devious.

“My friend Bob says you’re the woman of his dreams. I said it was the perfect reason to come over and talk to you, but he says it’s exactly why he can’t,” she said as she took a sip of her martini and you watched as some of the lipstick on her lips stayed on the glass, like remnants of a kiss.

“He’s scared that he’ll mess this up but by the way you’ve been staring I don’t think he can,” Jess went on to say, and heat started to fill up your cheeks and belly.

“Don’t worry, he hasn’t noticed any of it, he’s kind of oblivious to these things,” she added, sending you an honest compassionate smile that finally allowed you to smile yourself.

“You think he might like me?” You asked her carefully, and Jess answered with a kind but exaggerated nod.

“He does. Just go and talk, I’m sure you’ll hit it off,” she answered kindly, and you carefully nodded along.

When you got up and walked towards him you hadn’t even told Jess your name, which was another reason why she thought you might do well with Bob.

The two of you were similarly shy.

part two

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