#making them gay for my own amusement

[looigee]

Making them share a special moment 😘

[androgynealienfemme]

"We go from store to store, trying to things on and inspecting them. I give my opinions on dresses and shoes, blouses and lipstick colors. Sometimes I say things that make the other women look at me, agape, as though my mouth has been possessed by that flighty queen from Queer Eye even while the rest of my body still looks like any other big dumb boy's. I say that I like a skirt but I wish it were bias-cut instead of A-line, or that I am not fond of the fashion for surplice tops, or that the post-WWII idiom in shoes this season is amusing but rarely looks good on actual feet, or that I like the look of a bolero jacket. I know the names of colors, heliotrope and coral and Nile blue, and I can say without hesitation whether a lipstick might look better matte with a bit of powder.

These other women look at me with wonder, their boyfriends and husbands having made a fetish out of refusing to learn such words under any circumstances, as though merely pronouncing the word "periwinkle" or "princess seam" could easily turn a strong man gay as a box of birds. They say to her, "That's your husband?" in voices that loiter between admiring and disgusted, as though they know that there's no force on earth that could make their men or boys take such interest in their clothing and they think they might really prefer that to the spectacle of me, filling an armchair, legs crossed ankle over knee, looking just right until I say "tea length."

The point is that she wants other girls to see what it looks like to have a boy so cracy in love with you, as I am, that he will spend an afternoon talking about capri pants to have a boy so delighted by you that he never calls you by your name, but addresses you always as "beautiful girl," or "my love" or occasionally and with great fondness, "boss." To have a boy who will happily fetch your next-size-down and carry your bags and charm the salesclerks at the register without flirting overmuch and just generally try to make himself as useful as possible, all for the dizzy and undying pleasure of making you happy. And even though I am not a boy, I look like one, and so I can be complicit with her in this kind of wonderful afternoon, part indulgence of her great beauty and style, part guerilla feminist activism.

Later, when we walk through the mall or down the sidewalk, me laden with packages that are clearly hers, I watch the eyes of the people we pass: the women who look at me with a certain longing, wishing they had their own boys to carry the bags. The men who look at her with an unmistakable hunger, wishing that they had the honor of schlepping for a girl like her, and then look at me with a certain edge of disbelief, not quite clear about why I get to squire this marvelous example of femininity around when they are clearly wealthier, more handsome, better hung. I have learned to meet all of these gazes with a calm kind of sweetness. There's no point in defensiveness or sheepishness or challenge. I'm the one holding her bags."

"Being a Shopping Switch” Butch is a Noun essays by S. Bear Bergman (2006)

[highvern]

Between the Titles

Pairing: Min Yoongi x fem!reader

Genre: fluff, smut (mature/18+)

warnings: egregious caffeine consumption, yoongi smokes cigarettes, reader is about the same height as yoongi (its me hello im almost the same height as him), gay taehyung, volunteer jungkook, silver fox yoongi (he just has some gray hair bc hot) smut warnings: making out, grinding, fingering, oral (f. receiving), semi-public sexual acts, bathroom sex, protected sex, praise kink

Length: ~9.5k

Note: no thoughts, just big brain yoongi in a sweater smoking cigarettes and drinking coffee. btw almost all the books in this are real but i haven't read them so if you have lmk if they're worth the read lmao. thank u to my dearest @gyuswhore and @idyllic-ghost for beta-ing this

Summary: Five days a week in the library means you're very familiar with the senior research librarian. It also means he has no qualms about making his own book recommendations either.

m.list + support my work

This blog is intended for 18+ only! Minors/blank blogs will be blocked.

The sweet aroma of old books and strong coffee infiltrates your nose as the heavy doors into the library swing open, offering reprieve from the storm raging on outside. It’s far too early for anyone to be here beyond staff and a few other morning birds. You glide right to the circulation desk as if fatigue doesn’t pulse through your veins, barely quelled by the second cup of coffee you sip from.

As always, the same familiar head of dark hair with sparse silver streaks waits at the circulation desk. He’s the only person working this early despite being the senior research librarian but you never hear any complaints louder than muttered annoyance under his breath when he thinks no one is around to hear. Bent over his laptop, Yoongi doesn’t even bother to look up as he slides a heavy stack of books to the edge of the counter. 

Eleven total, ten heavy volumes on ancient fertility cults across the globe, and one book you know he’s mixed in for his own amusement. 

It’s become something of a game between you two. At first you thought he was mixing your materials with someone else’s, but every time you brought the additional copy back to his desk, Yoongi insisted he had no idea what you were talking about and questioned your reading choices. Each time the titles got more ridiculous: Castration: The Advantages and the Disadvantages, How to Enjoy Your Weeds, Amish Vampires in Space, the list goes on and on. But after he slipped Why Fish Don’t Exist into your stack a few weeks ago, you decided to start responding. 

You left the stack at his desk like usual, ears perked for his reaction to Fishes I Have Known. An amused snort rang out just as you opened the doors to leave for the afternoon. The sound was so unlike the stoic man you’d become accustomed to over months working on your thesis; not that you heard him talk much to begin with.

Since then you’ve made a point to match every book he leaves for you. Yesterday, Yoongi chose I Could Pee on This: and Other Poems by Cats. At the end of the day, you spent thirty minutes searching shelf after shelf for an appropriate response, every book failing to meet your expectations. It wasn’t fair he knew the expansive collection like the back of his hand but nevertheless you found something up to par.

Yoongi rolled his eyes when you passed your books over the counter, a copy of Staying Dry: A Practical Guide to Bladder Control, like a shining star on top. A brief pink of his tongue flashed across his lips, a feeble attempt to muffle an amused smile. It was the most obvious reaction since the first time you responded.

Smiling like the cat who ate the canary, you left on clouds last night.

But this morning you have notes to write.

Snagging the collection, you make your way deeper into the building. Your unassigned-assigned desk tucked away on the fifth floor, far enough away from any noise so you can fully immerse in work without the threat of distraction. An uninterrupted view of the courtyard below is an added bonus.

The wooden table top is covered in a neat collection of pens and sticky notes in minutes; your laptop and the foot tall collection of references you devour over the next eight hours taking up the other half.

A few titles you request over and over sit on top, too valuable to be checked out for long term use so you settle for keeping them in constant rotation since no one else bothers to read the dusty yellowing tombs. For now, you focus on the new pieces you hope hold the information you need.

Earth rites: fertility practices in pre-industrial Britain, Archaeology and Fertility Cults in the Ancient Mediterranean, Metamorphosis of Baubo: myths of woman's sexual energy— 

I’m in Love with Mothman…

Well there it is.

You thumb across the glossy cartoon cover, failing to bite back a smile. Yoongi has a penchant for tossing in the most outlandish romance books he can find. Maybe because he knows you spend just as much if not more time than he does between the stacks. The suggestion box at the desk was full of cards stained with your penmanship asking for longer hours; several of which you’ve seen Yoongi rip in half as he pointedly met your gaze.

Tossing it aside, you pull forward one of the more musty books and start reading.

When you finally manage to resurface from laborious tales on several cults of Aphrodite, the rain is long gone. Even the darkest corners of the old building seem to glow gold in the evening sunset filtering through the glass doors. They're the only thing standing between you and freedom in the form curling up on your couch with a glass of wine and a new episode of your favorite reality dating show. But first, Yoongi needs his books back. 

His desk chair is abandoned and the return cart is gone as well which means he could be anywhere in the building. Disappointment leaches into your spine at the fact you won’t be able to witness his reaction to the twelfth book in your pile; the one you spent an extra fifteen minutes looking for in the corner of the third floor. 

A thick piece of library paper lists the materials you’ll need for the next day lays atop the neon green cover of Pest Management Solutions: How to Manage Your Moth Problem. They decorate the corner of the desk until Yoongi returns to find them. Hopefully he appreciates your humor.

Yoongi isn’t at his desk the next morning when you come in either. Instead, a doe eyed man with a lip piercing occupies the chair, clearly playing some game on his laptop. 

Approaching the counter, you begin to ask, “Where’s Yoon–”

“Staff meeting,” he interjects like he’s already answered the question a million times despite the library opening only five minutes ago. The white of his teeth threaten to blind you. “But I can help you!”

His name tag isn’t the same engraved golden metal Yoongi’s is, it’s a plastic sleeve with a paper insert with barely legible handwriting you decipher as  “Jungkook” and below “Volunteer.” You’ve seen him before from a distance. Usually trudging through the shelves with the book return cart in tow, occasionally taking a quick read inside before putting them in their rightful place. 

“I need to pick up some books. I gave Yoongi the list yesterday.”

“Sure.” Jungkook jumps up, approaching the shelf lined with piles for other patrons. “What’s your last name?”

He combs through the list after you answer, finding your stack easily enough. 

“Alright so Yoongi left a note that the encyclopedias you wanted are on the usual desk you have upstairs. But other than that I’ve got: Historical Studies of Changing Fertility, Sacred Mushroom and The Cross, Archaeology and Fertility Cults in The Ancient Mediterranean…” Jungkook lists off the titles, checking to make sure they're all in order. “And, um, this one isn’t on the list.”

It must be Yoongi’s choice for the day.

“What is it?”

Jungkook looks like he’s trying to hide his own amusement as he slides it over for you to read.

If I Were a Bird, You'd be The First Person I'd Shit On.

“Huh,” you blush. “Wonder how that got in there.”

“He must have left it by mistake. I can put it ba–”

“No, I’ll take it.” You toss it on top of the other, less embarrassing books in your stack and gather it into your arms before Jungkook can get in another word. “Thanks for your help!”

Scurrying towards the hallway housing the elevators, you attempt to juggle the pile of books, your stuffed bag, and coffee without taking a spill. It’s one thing to have your silent battle with Yoongi, but having someone else witness it makes you feel downright silly. And for the first one witnessed by others to be such an absurd and downright passive aggressive selection sends embarrassment through your veins.

As promised, three encyclopedias sit neatly on your desk; the volumes so thick they protrude from the table top like a small mountain. No wonder he left them there instead of making you carry them up in individual trips. But Yoongi’s goodwill clearly ended there. A sticky note on top of the stack pens his discontent at your selection.

I had to spend 3 hours in the basement to find these. If you need them again, don’t.

Even though he hadn’t signed it, you know it’s from him. The tight script fits his personality; thin lines of annoyance bleeding through the ink, not just his words. A waft of musty old paper and dust breezes through your nose as you open the first copy. They must have been housed in a forgotten storage area. At least his bird book makes more sense now. 

You don’t dig into the heap until after the sun is halfway through the sky but when you do it only proves to unravel your wits. Reading on, the wrinkle in your eyebrows deepens further. Page after page of conflicting knowledge passes by, each sentence more confusing than the last; minutes negating months of research. The thick pages hardly provide a soft landing for your head as you allow it to thump forward in exasperation.

The scrap of chair legs alerts to a new presence watching your meltdown in real time.

“Something wrong?” Yoongi asks.

With a heavy sigh, you respond.“I want to die.”

“Get in line.”

Shifting in your seat, you peer in his direction. A different day but the same wardrobe: dark button up, glasses, same unapproachable facade. But what Yoongi is doing sitting next to you is new.

Yoongi makes himself comfortable, picking at his nails as he waits patiently for an explanation. 

“Everything in my thesis is either wrong or the world authority on fertility in Europe is full of it.”

“Bummer.”

“Your sincerity is overwhelming.” You snap.

Yoongi rolls his eyes. Boredom seeps across his face but he doesn’t move to leave, just sinks deeper into the chair. “You’ve read almost half the collection since you started coming here, why are some old dusty books such a big deal?”

“Because all of those books cite these books which means those books are wrong and all my work is in the toilet.”

“Those books are from the seventies, the information is probably out of date.”

Slamming the copy serving as a pillow shut, you take a second glance at the title: Encyclopedia of Women and World Religion, Volume 7.

“Yoongi,” you sing.

Yoongi’s gaze flashes to yours, a trickle of confusion flashing across his eyes.“What?”

You stack up the books and push them across the desk with some effort. Just to savor the satisfaction of besting Yoongi, you indulge a long sip of now cold coffee before speaking again. No one else is around to witness your victory but that won’t dampen the high.

“Looks like you’ll be back in the basement because you brought me the wrong editions.”

He opens his mouth to argue, snatching one of the books to investigate but you beat him to the punch.

“I asked for the twenty-fifth edition, not the seventh.” You smirk. “I think you're losing your touch.”

He watches you over the rim of the cover. A fleeting glance in your direction but it makes your heart squeeze with need.

“Well, I guess you’re right,” Yoongi sighs, standing. “Do you still need them for anything or can I go ahead and take them?”

With your approval, he heaves the heavy tombs on to his cart. The strain of his forearms, bare from rolled up sleeves, catches your attention. Veins raised under creamy skin, lean muscles leading down to hands you’ve noticed since the first day you started visiting the library.

If you keep staring, you’re likely to start drooling. So you dive back into one of the useful books littering your desk and pretend to read until he’s disappearing down the hall.

On your way out, leaving much earlier than a typical day due to Yoongi’s mistake, you drop the remaining books off at the circulation desk. Along with a copy of Avian Hunting Techniques. He’s absent again but it doesn't matter.

You continue out the doors and down the sidewalk only to spot him leaning against the brick exterior further down the street. Even from a distance you can make out the natural scowl he’s constantly sporting. Except this time his lips pout around a cigarette. 

Of course he smokes.

The quasi-mysterious librarian who flirts with you through book titles, smokes cigarettes and looks hot doing it. 

“You know those things will kill you, right?” 

“That’s what the box says but they aren’t holding up their end of the deal,” Yoongi responds, flicking the ash before looking at his watch. “Wow, out before six. I’ll alert the press.”

“Well, if someone gave me the right books then maybe I’d stay longer. But I’m not about to wait around while you get the ones I need.”

Yoongi takes another drag of his cigarette before responding, “Are you trying to say I forced you to take a break?”

The realization dawns on you. Yoongi is the senior research librarian. He’s never given you the wrong books, even when you request the rare copies needed to be loaned from a different part of the country. The few times you’ve offered understanding if he couldn’t get them were met with a challenge in his gaze and smug satisfaction when handing them over a week later.

“You brought me the wrong copies on purpose!”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” He’s lying. You know it. Yoongi definitely knows you know by the way he smirks. But he’s already crushing the filter under his shoe and moving back towards the library by the time your brain catches up to your mouth.  “Have a good night, Y/N.”

With a scoff of indignation, you stalk towards your car.

The next morning, you march straight through the class doors to where Yoongi sits, fueled by snowballed annoyance from the previous day. Waking up on the wrong side of the bed is an understatement. If there are any gods, Yoongi should pick one and pray.

Your free afternoon of yesterday was spent dealing with the chaos your apartment has become over the past few weeks. Unfolded laundry, stacks of random papers, out of place books, and errant dust bunnies all became new victims to energy usually reserved for a full day of research. Taehyung practically shit himself when he woke up before dinner and found you scrubbing the bathroom sink.

“What are you doing here?” he asked, hand to his chest like a flustered old woman.

Bleach curled in your nostrils. “I live here.” 

“Not between the hours of eight and seven.”

But after the mess was dealt with, aggravation set in. How dare Yoongi purposefully meddle in your work. Well meaning or not you were an adult and could decide when enough was enough. The purposeful mishap hadn’t set you back far, one afternoon but a drop in the bucket in comparison to the months you’ve already spent chasing new leads. But the principle of the matter is that it’s none of his business what you do and when you do it.

Yoongi slides a slimmer stack over when you stop in front of him.

“Encyclopedias are on your desk,” he announces through a sip of coffee. He continues to type away, feigning disinterest as you sort through your stack with measured annoyance.

“Are they the right copies this time?”

“Double checked them myself.”

You open your mouth to verbalize your doubts but Yoongi’s pick of the day catches your eye.

Surviving Your Stupid Stupid Decision to Go to Grad School.

Scoffing, you flip the book around and shoot daggers into his face with your eyes. “Do you think you’re funny?”

The corner of his mouth twitches then becomes a full blown smile. Leaning over the desk, he drops his voice, “I think I’m hilarious.”

Remembering you are, in fact, in a library, you manage to muffle a frustrated groan. You dump the supplementary reading back on the counter for Yoongi to deal with and head upstairs. 

Unlike the usual days where you put off finding a response to Yoongi’s extra copy until the waning hours of the afternoon, you drop your bags and head straight for the shelves. The fifth floor houses a collection of textbooks and other reference material. It’s why it's always deserted unless some poor fool stumbles on it by accident; the perfect place to work uninterrupted for hours.

You head down stairs, circling the fourth and then third floor like a shark in a feeding frenzy. A few covers spark interest but nothing captures what bubbles in your veins: annoyance, anger, confusion. A brief flutter of interest as to why Yoongi decided to mess with you but those feelings are more dangerous than the acidic ones.

Row after proves unfruitful in your quest for passive aggressive revenge. None have the same bite as his book, or seem to curb the homicidal thoughts raging in your head.

Until a little white book peeps back at you from the end of the aisle.

Yoongi jumps when you slam Bitter Is the New Black: Confessions of a Condescending, Egomaniacal, Self-Centered Smartass in front of him. A feat in and of itself to sneak up on him given the loan desk has a perfect view of the entire first floor but whatever he’d been clicking away at on the computer was distraction enough.

“What's this?”

“Thought you might like some new reading.” You flash your teeth.

His chin jerks towards the glossy cover. “I already gave this two stars on Goodreads.”

Of course he has.

Face prickling in embarrassment, you turn back the way you came without a word.

Hours later, when half the day has ticked by and the ache for more caffeine burns your eyes, Yoongi stops by your desk. He doesn’t speak, doesn’t try and gain the attention you pointedly withhold. He sets a paper coffee cup on the corner of the tabletop and leaves.

You snatch up the cup after he rounds the corner out of sight. The lack of sugar leaves much to be desired but free coffee is free coffee, especially to a PhD student with limited means. 

It isn’t much of an apology but guilt blooms down your spine anyway. He meant well. You aren’t known for giving yourself breaks; unable to quit while you’re ahead. A voluntary day off is less likely than winning the lottery. You’re a busy body and the constant work keeps you from dissolving into chaos.

You don’t see Yoongi again until every book at your desk is exhausted, begging for a break from your manhandling. Double and triple checking notes and citations are the poor excuse you implement to delay the inevitable. At some point you’ll have to go downstairs to face the music. 

He’s waiting like always, scanning the mountain of returns littering the counter from a long day. Each step closer withers something in your stomach. 

The copies in your hand shift onto the wooden surface, joining the stack for him to work through. Yoongi flashes a polite grimace when you catch his eye before immediately diving back into his work. Hopefully he understands why you chose Thank You for Smoking. And why you covered the second half of the title with a sticky note.

Jungkook’s smiling face greets you bright and early. His name tag has been upgraded from flimsy paper to a plastic one and a printed label with his name. 

Handing over your library card, he quickly scans it and grabs the books meant for today’s dissection. 

“Yoongi wanted me to tell you that if you want more coffee while you’re working, you can go to the staff lounge on the second floor.”

“Oh.”

Jungkook continues sifting through your requests, making sure each is correct.  “Between you and me, the coffee down the street is better. But don’t tell him I said that.”

“Why?”

“Because he’s a coffee snob and thinks his shit—sorry—stuff is the best.”

“Okay,” you say, grabbing your pile. “Thanks.”

You set up your station like always, sorting through each book and devising a mental to do list. The desk resembles a feast but instead of food it’s encyclopedias, printed articles, and dusty manuscripts Yoongi wrangled from who knows where. On the outer board of your work station rests the feature of the day: How to Beg for Cigarettes.

A few hours pass between the pages. Your previous research is confirmed by the significantly less dusty encyclopedias this time, corroborating the basis of your thesis. A new work you haven’t seen is cited in the back, piquing your interest for more evidence. 

Instead of bothering one of the staff, you use the library website and find it in their catalog. It’s somewhere on the second floor where Yoongi offers free coffee. Two birds, one stone; a new book and a new cup of coffee.

The layout resembles all the other floors. A collection of study tables in the center crowded by bookshelves on all sides. One person, an undergrad by the look of pure dread on their features, occupies a table but that's it. Glancing at the note with the call number, you start towards the stacks on the left.

You find the correct area, eyes scanning up and down the different shelves to no avail. Hundreds of books, different sizes in an array of colors, flash by but none are the one you need. You’re about to call it quits when you spot it on the top shelf, just out of reach.

Call it a moment of stupidity, a brief blight of recklessness, but the book sits only a few inches beyond your fingers. You look around to make sure no one is around to witness the brilliantly flawed idea crest in your brain. With the coast clear, you hoist yourself up the shelf.

A deadpan voice nearly makes you fall.

“Looking for something?” 

Yoongi stands a few feet away, head cocked to the side. Of course he’d find you in such a ridiculous position. Even through the blur of your peripheral vision, the harsh lines of his usual uniform clashes against the back drop of books. Dark jeans fitted over his thighs, dark button down rolled up his arms, and a pair of glasses that make him look hot. But you’re in no position to dwell when the risk of falling on your ass is so high.

“Nope, just getting in some exercise” you grunt, moving your foot to the shallow hold of the next shelf.

Yoongi moseys up behind you before continuing. “And climbing a decades old bookshelf is how you stretch your legs?”

“You smoke cigarettes, I climb old furniture. We all have our vices.”

Your foot slips from its perch, making you squeak before catching your balance. 

“Alright spider-monkey, that's enough.” His hands slide across your hip, fingers curved around the softest part of your waist as he helps you down. 

Distracted by the weight of him still on your hip, the heat of his chest a scorching across your back, you don’t even think to disparage him for the cheap Twilight reference. The few inches Yoongi has on you allows him to reach overhead to snag the copy you need with ease. But as you watch his hands close around the spine everything beyond fades to black; like the universe pinholes where you two stand.

“This one?” You feel the vibration of his words up and down your spine, warm breath tracing across the shell of your ear.

Body on autopilot, you turn to face Yoongi. His mouth moves, eyes scanning the book cover but every word deafens in a muddy haze. He doesn’t seem to realize his hand is still on your waist, or how he crowds you into the shelves; chest to chest, stomachs barely an inch apart.

“Huh?” you ask, tearing your eyes away from his mouth.

“I said, if you asked for this book earlier I could have gotten it for you.”

“Oh.”

“You okay?” he asks, stepping further into you. “You look a little flushed.”

The bastard smiles. A God’s honest smile like his thigh isn’t between your own, or he isn’t waiting for a reply while his fingers dig in beneath your ribs.

Just when you open your mouth to say something, Yoongi silences you with a firm squeeze of his hand. His head lowers until his breath ghosts along your chin. 

Then you’re kissing; lips sliding together easily like he anticipated it. The world shatters all around from just a few passes of his mouth across your own, the weight of his body flattening you against the bookshelf. 

The first hint of his tongue against the seam of your lips makes you gasp and Yoongi takes the opportunity to taste you. You melt under his attention. Head tipping back, shoulders bowing to take more, your senses flood with the remnants of coffee and something else; something so quintessential Yoongi your head spins. It lights a new flame in your veins, one burning with pure want.

A handful of his shirt pulls him closer. Yoongi follows easily but gets more than asked for when one of your hands tangles in the back of his hair, tugging until he’s tilting his chin the way you want. It’s a bad habit other dates have subtly complained about but a noise bubbles in his throat at the dig of your nails; responding with his own palm squeezing roughly across your ass until your hips meet his. 

The crash of the book near your feet is like a bucket of ice water.

“Oh my god,” you gasp. Jumping back proves futile as the shelf digs further into your spine. “I–”

Puffy lips and lowered eyes stare back at you, clear evidence that you haven’t hallucinated what just happened. Yoongi dips down to kiss you again but you slither out of his grip.

Forgetting the book on the tiled floor, you mumble an apology and flee back upstairs, beelining to the vacant restroom.

To your own mortification, your features mirror Yoongi’s; lips swollen, eyes glazed. Your sweater twisted around your torso clearly betraying your rendezvous in the stacks. Beads of sweat cling to your forehead and neck.

A few splashes of cold water help clear the fog in your brain but as it dissipates embarrassment sets in. Making out with a handsome man is one thing. Making out with the librarian assisting in the most important work of your life is an entirely different ordeal; one that can only spell trouble.

Pacing back and forth, the cool paper towel on the back of your neck helps calm your racing heart enough to leave the safety of the ladies room.

Try as you might to drown under piles of books, it’s useless. You pretend to read the same passages over and over but none of the words register. The kiss replays over and over and over again. You kissed Yoongi. Yoongi kissed you back. He tried to kiss you again when you pulled away.

The end of the day inevitably comes which means you have to face him whether you want to or not. But you won’t allow a single lapse of judgment to affect your work; a moment of weakness propelled by months of abstinence that just so happened to coincide with a surly librarian’s entrance into your life. You just needed to get it out of your system. If it hadn’t been Yoongi it would have been someone else. 

At least that’s what you tell yourself.

A glance at your watch informs you that today is the second day you’ll leave the library early. Rather than give into the stubborn instinct to stay, you decide putting as much distance between yourself and Yoongi is far better for your mental health. With squared shoulders and a raised chin, you head downstairs. 

Yoongi’s waiting behind the counter. He isn’t typing on his computer or scanning books. He watches every step you take, arms crossed in front as he leans forward like he’s eager for a confrontation. 

“Yoongi,” you say.

“Y/N.”

You use every fiber of will to maintain eye contact as you pass your stack over the counter. “I’ll need these same ones tomorrow.”

“Okay.” He nods. “And the kiss?”

“What kiss?” you croak.

Yoongi’s eyes blaze like you’re a new puzzle to be solved, like he wants to take you apart and find exactly what makes you tick. You feel naked. “The one where you—”

“Must have been someone else. Sorry. Have a good night!” You rush for the door before he can say another word.

Another morning is another day in the library, but this time your roommate begs to tag along. 

“Look, I’m not getting anything done on my thesis so maybe you’ll rub off on me,” Taehyung says.

Rolling your eyes, you step through the door he holds open. “I think you’ve had plenty of people rub off on you.”

Gasping with fake indignation, he catches up easily. “Are you calling me a slut?” 

“Yes.”

“Good, I wanted to make sure we were on the same page. Is that him?”

Yoongi and Jungkook are talking behind the counter. Jungkook’s hands wave wildly as he recounts whatever information to his boss while Yoongi listens with fake interest. Or that's what someone else might think. The subtle signs he cares are hidden in the details; the miniscule lift of shoulders, a cock of his head, and when Jungkook pouts in a way too ridiculous for a man his size, Yoongi hides a smile in the shake of his head.

“Yes.”

“And I’m the slut?” Taehyung scowls as you pinch his shoulder. “What? He’s a nerd’s walking wet dream.” 

“And he can hear you, so shut up.”

“Morning!” Jungkook calls on his way past with a cart full of books. 

He grins like he knows exactly what happened on the second floor yesterday but that can’t be true. Yoongi doesn’t seem like the type to kiss and tell. Only the type to kiss and tease you relentlessly for it when no one else is around to hear.

Taehyung’s attention immediately locks on him. You love your roommate, always have and, unfortunately, always will; but he is a slut and Jungkook is definitely his type. However, he’s on your turf and knows better than to fuck where you have to eat for the next few months. 

“Y/N, Y/N’s friend,” Yoongi says when you approach his desk. 

“Taehyung.” 

“Right,” Yoongi drawls, blinking lazily before sliding your books over and turning around to sort something on the opposite counter.

Taehyung, ever the gentleman, grabs the pile for you and follows upstairs. 

“Well he seems like a cup of sunshine,” Taehyung whispers. 

“Just because he isn’t fawning over you doesn’t mean he’s an asshole.”

“I’m very fawn-able, ask anyone,” your roommate argues as you approach the fifth floor. “Wait, what's this… How to Defeat Your Own Clone and Other Tips for Surviving the Biotech Revolution. This is the type of shit he’s giving you? You’re easier than I am.”

“Give me that.” You snatch the paperback out of his grip. “Stop being nosy.”

Taehyung lets you work in peace after that, disappearing to gather more of his own materials. Even in undergrad he’d never been one to sit still for long. But he still managed to get a spot doing an engineering thesis despite the constant changes in his attention.

After several hours of mind numbing typing you need a break, and another cup of coffee on someone else’s dime sounds perfect.

“I’m getting coffee.”

“Bring me some,” Taehyung says without looking up from his screen.

The staff lounge is nothing fancy. A couple small tables with plastic chairs tucked around, a cork board covered with fliers, and a white board stuck to the fridge scrawled upon with black dry erase marker. The coffee pot sits full in the machine, still hot to the touch. 

You pour two cups. Taehyung’s gets loaded with creamer cups until it’s closer to white than black while yours is sweetened to sickening perfection. When you try to take a sip, the liquid immediately burns your tongue. Too hot coffee is better than cold coffee but an ice cube would help make it more palatable.

Moving back to the fridge, you go to open the freeze but stop when the white board catches your attention again.

Most notes are chores or friendly reminders about time cards but almost half the board is dedicated to a back and forth.

‘Unofficial Employee of the Month: Jungkook’ 

A note in Yoongi’s tight script: ‘You don’t work here.’

‘That’s why it's unofficial!’ in what must be Jungkook’s messy handwriting.

‘You’re my official employee of the month. - Namjoon’

At the bottom is a crude drawing of stick figures, two tall smiling ones holding hands under a rainbow labeled ‘JK’ and ‘Joon’ and a comically shorter one with evil eyebrows surrounded by storm clouds and ‘yoongi :(’ overhead.

“Snooping for secrets?”

“Jesus Christ,” you jump, turning to face Yoongi. “Has anyone ever told you it’s rude to sneak up on people?”

“You’re in the staff lounge, there’s gonna be staff here.” Yoongi crosses to the coffee pot on the counter and pours himself a cup. He doesn’t add cream or sugar or anything else to lessen the bitterness. Cliche. “So, was bringing your boyfriend here your subtle way of letting me down?”

“You think Taehyung is my boyfriend?” You whirl around in shock. Yoongi raises a brow, prompting you to continue. “Jungkook is more his type than I am.”

Yoongi releases a pleased hum, eyes shining. “So no boyfriend then?”

“Nope.”

You’re shaking but don’t look away from his hungry gaze. Yoongi takes a step closer, and another and one more until you're pinned to the countertop and his mouth is on yours. 

This time, you're more aware of everything. The smell of his cologne, the tickle of his bangs along your forehead, all the tiny details that were muffled before. Yoongi’s lips are firm against your own, a little chapped but it only makes you hotter with each pass.

His mouth is everywhere; your chin, your jaw, peppering down your throat until he pushes aside the hem of your shirt and sets to work on the jut of your collarbone like he’ll never get a chance again. 

“Yoongi,” you hum on the first rake of teeth. 

He takes it as an invitation to dig in harder, sucking the skin until your spine threatens to break and you say his name again. Desperate for some kind of anchor, you knot your fingers back in his hair and pull. 

A throaty noise responds and the need to hear more rears its head. Yoongi who always watches with measured fascination undone by some light petting. The power is addictive. 

Legs spread, he presses in flat. The heat of his cock, rigid beneath the fabric of his jeans, teases across the seam of your own. You're technically still in public but the consequences concern you less than the knowledge that you’ll go mad if you don’t feel him. His arms circle your back, pulling you firmer against him, right to the edge of the linoleum counter.

Wedging a hand between your bodies, you manage to get his zipper undone while your tongue traces along his jaw. Yoongi angles his hips to help, curling into your palm when you cup him over the fabric of his boxers. Every press has him swelling harder. 

His hands reach under your shirt. Skin on skin, the rough calluses of his fingers trace your ribs, thumbs following the cup of your bra in a tease. It’s a simple touch but your own hands falter when he brushes a nipple. You melt into each other.

“Hey, Yoongi, do you know where—HOLY SHIT!”

Jungkook stops at the door, eyes wide, mouth wider. 

“Get out!” Yoongi barks. He’s trying his best to keep your body covered from the younger man’s view but even if Jungkook isn’t getting a full frontal he isn’t dumb enough not to realize what’s going on.

Yoongi shudders a few breaths. Head hung low, he tucks himself back into his pants without moving away. You’re already slipping down from your perch when he looks back up.

“I’m just gonna…go,” you mumble, scurrying out the door.

Jungkook waits outside, eyes still bugging out of his head but at least has the decency to pretend he didn’t catch you in the act.

Tugging your shirt down, you avoid his gaze. How far would you have let Yoongi go if Jungkook hadn’t interrupted? 

“Coffee?” Taehyung asks as you approach the table.

You know what you look like without a mirror. The same as yesterday with glassy eyes and bruised lips, clothes wrinkled. Thankfully, Taehyung is more interested in his modeling software than where you’ve been. 

“They were out.” 

With a sigh like he is personally victimized by the lack of caffeine, Taehyung collapses on the table and plays dead. But he perks up at the sound of footsteps approaching behind you.

“You left this in the break room,” Yoongi says, dropping a cup of coffee by your side before disappearing. 

You turn to follow his retreating for until he’s hidden back between the shelves. The back of his hair is still messy despite his attempt to fix it, same with the wrinkles in his shirt from your hands.

“I thought they were out?” Taehyung eyes you suspiciously when you look back at him.

Cradling the still hot cup in your hands, you avoid his gaze. “Shut up.”

“So you do have to sleep with someone to get a cup of coffee.” 

“I’m not sleeping with him,” you spit in a harsh whisper.

“Why not?”

“Because…”

Because what exactly? There isn’t a good reason other than the fact Jungkook was the king of cockblocks. You would have let Yoongi do just about anything he wanted and he seemed to be in agreement. But you’d rather die than admit that out loud.

“You are so smart and so incredibly stupid.” Taehyung rolls his eyes, rising to pack his things. “I need to pee.”

You point him in the direction of the bathrooms and get back to work.

When Taehyung returns minutes later he starts shoving his things in his bag. “I’m leaving.”

“Why?”

“This is like the epicenter of hot smart men and I refuse to suffer any longer.”

“You got Jungkook’s number,” you deadpan.

Taehyung can’t hide his own shit eating grin. “Yoongi gave it to me.”

“If you’re leaving, so am I.”

“Why?” your roommate whines. 

“Because I got you a hot date and that means you owe me dinner.”

“Technically it was Yoongi but I’ll concede.” Taehyung heaves his bag up. “Come now my dearest, we can still get happy hour if we hurry.” 

You reach in your own bag and toss him your keys. “Go wait in the car. I’ve gotta go grab another book real quick.”

“Whatever,” Taehyung says, mumbling something like ‘nerds’ under his breath as he heads downstairs.

You find Yoongi while on your way to his desk, already toting around the cart piled high with returns from the day. Several of the covers are Taehyung’s picks and somehow the knowledge they’ve spoken almost knocks you off kilter. Taehyung is a good wingman and that’s what worries you most.

“Hi,” he says, kneeling to put a book on a low shelf.

It shouldn’t have the effect it does but something about the way Yoongi looks up at you, on his knees, head tipped back, has your mind running wild with the image of him in the same position with both of you wearing far less clothing. Maybe if you weren’t interrupted in the staff lounge you’d have seen it in real life.

“Hi. Mind if I add these to the pile?” 

“Go ahead.”

The Stocking was Hung sits on top. You don’t wait around to see his reaction.

The temperature had steadily been increasing over the past weeks but this morning is the worst of all. That inescapable warmth fully seeded overnight and promised the comforting days of sweaters and pants are long gone.

Heat makes you lazy and fitful. In the early hours, long before you actually need to be awake, you stare up at the ceiling of your room. Not even a frigid shower helped the stickiness of your skin or laying still in your bed in nothing but one of Taehyung’s shirts and ratty shorts. It followed you everywhere until you left for the same brick building you spend more time at than at home.

Without thought, you throw on the first seasonally appropriate outfit in your closet; a thin dress that covers enough for the public but promises to keep you cool.

Yoongi seems to be taking the change in weather as well as you are. His usual attire is absent, nothing but a white shirt clinging to his torso. The pale skin of his forearms briefly catches your attention but you focus anywhere else to stop from rounding the desk and finishing what started upstairs.

You steel yourself and approach the desk, determined to act normal.

Familiar dark eyes flash up to greet you but Yoongi’s mouth doesn’t form any words. He just stares at you. You can feel the weight of his gaze on your shoulders, your neck, and then he pointedly keeps them trained on your eyes. Like he's willing to pretend yesterday didn’t happen. 

He doesn’t speak when he passes over the same pile of books as yesterday but you can feel him burn a hole in your back. Even after you climb up the stairs and out of sight, the prickling sensation you’re being watched follows.

You don’t get anything done. The words on the page might as well be another language as your mind races.

Yoongi didn’t give you an extra book today.

An endless list of potential explanations race through your mind. Maybe you’d been too forward with your choice. Maybe he’s gotten it out of his system, a quick tryst in the employee lounge enough to satiate his curiosity. Maybe because it’s the second time you’ve brushed him off. Even if it wasn’t your fault Jungkook stumbled in before anything worthwhile could happen. 

But he isn’t speaking to you and he isn’t giving you the random book you’ve come to look forward to every morning. 

Channeling the restless energy of overthinking, you take a lap around the floor. You pause to flip through random books as you zigzag through the stacks. Anything to take your mind off the unshakable tension sticking in the air like syrup.

Your laptop is in sleep mode by the time you reluctantly come back. Everything is as you left except a book you’ve never seen before sits on top of the open one you’d been reading.

There’s a Boy in the Girls’ Bathroom. 

A sticky note sticks up from the inside of the cover. A bolt of excitement shoots down your spine. When you flip it open a familiar handwriting stares back: ‘on the seventh floor’.

You hadn’t been gone too long but the fear of making him wait has you rushing up the stairs. Each step brings you closer to where he waits until you’re opening the bathroom door.

“Yoongi?” 

A hand wraps around your upper arm, yanking you in. Another hand silences a surprised shout before you realize it’s Yoongi and not a murderer pinning you to the interior of the door you just came through.

“Jesus, you scared me.” 

“Sorry,” he breathes. “It’s just not a good look for me to be up here.”

“Oh, really?” You smile. “And why is that?”

“This is my job.”

“Didn’t seem to stop you before.”

“Who says it’s stopping me now?”

He thumbs the strap of your dress, hooking under the thin material and dragging it down your arm. The heat and weight of Yoongi against you, touching you so simply, makes you vibrate. Yoongi moves into your neck, panting with a grind against your thigh. “I swear I don’t usually do this.”

You want to argue that you have two accounts that he does do this often, at least with you. But for someone who says they don’t, Yoongi is surprisingly natural. The tease prickling the end of your tongue fizzles out under his teeth across the curve of your shoulder, goosebumps blossoming along your back. 

A whimper unbecoming of an adult woman breaks the lullaby of summer air conditioner singing through the vents. You’re sweating under the cling of your dress, skin hot to the touch thanks to Yoongi’s attention; long fingers curved around your waist, thumbs skimming just under your breast.

“Could have fooled me.”

“This is a very nice dress.” His mouth bites down your neck, taking advantage of the new strips of skin the neckline unveils.

“That’s all it takes?” you pant from the wet of his tongue. “A pretty dress?”

“If you think,” he whispers into your ear. “I’m doing this because of your dress then you really haven’t been paying attention.”

The dark locks of his hair are too alluring to resist, tempting one of your own hands to scratch against the tip of his spine when Yoongi rolls against you again. A firm tug brings him to your mouth, lips molding to one another in a searing kiss. You can taste the coffee from the lounge and the faintest hint of cigarette smoke, like he thought to hide it before asking you to follow him.

“How long? How long have you wanted this?”

Yoongi hooks one of your thighs higher, savoring the heat of your core against the crotch of his pants with a slow thrust. “Since you came in and busted my balls over not having that archived manuscript when the website said we did.”

You remember that day. Patience thin from Taehyung’s loud overnight guest, you stormed into the library looking to take it out on a photocopy of the manuscript only for the only copy to be AWOL. Yoongi became the surrogate for your rage, his eyes burning into your skull as questioned how he could let it happen.

The next day was when he started adding books to your stack.

“That was months ago.”

“I’m a patient guy.”

You want him naked; ache to catalog what he’s hidden underneath bulky sweaters and loose button ups over the past few months. But that idea has to wait for somewhere less risky. You settle for dipping your hand under his shirt, tracing your fingers over the elastic of his boxers peeking from the waistband of his pants.

Attempting to hide the effect he has, you loop your fingers in his belt loops and pull him even closer so your face is hidden in the crook of his neck. “There’s a Boy in the Girls’ Bathroom? A little on the nose, don’t you think?”

“Like The Stocking was Hung is any better?” Yoongi sighs as your mouth ghosts over the rising vein webbing the side of his throat.

“Hey!” you object, rising to face him. “I thought you’d appreciate it after that mothman book.”

“I appreciate you complimenting my dick plenty.”

Yoongi doesn’t let you go, hands palming at the swell of your ass the entire way from the door to the counter. He’s got one hand curved along your jaw, thumb hooked around your chin and his teeth bruising your lower lip. The edge of granite digs in your spine but not for long as he lifts you and settles on his knees to dive under your skirt. 

He kisses up your calf, tongue snaking across the knob of your knee then the plush of your thigh. Just when you feel a puff of breath against the damp crotch of your panties, Yoongi falls to repeat the same path against your other leg. 

You don’t suffer for long. Pooling the excess fabric around your waist, Yoongi blinks up from between your thighs. The pink of his tongue follows the edge of your panties, wetting the fabric more until it clings obscenely. 

He pushes his glasses up to rest on the top of his head, keeping the mess of gray and black hair out of his eyes before diving back down.

His tongue lathers over your covered slit with a groan. “Taste better than I imagined.”

“You thought about this?”

“Couldn’t stop thinking about it. On my desk, yours, against that fucking bookshelf.” Yoongi punctures each word with more wet kisses against your core. “In my car, my bed. Everywhere.”

A cool breath has your thighs squeezing around his head thanks to the erotic combination of his spit and your own fluids drenching your panties. “Is this all you think about?”

“I had to come up here and jerk off yesterday because I couldn’t stop thinking about your hands.”

Your panties are pulled to the side before you can indulge in the new visual blooming on the edge of consciousness. “Yoongi.”

Eyes closed, his mouth circles your clit, tongue gently stroking you to life. Every pass against the sensitive bundle of nerves has your thighs squeezing around his head. 

The first prod of fingers makes Yoongi’s hold on the crook of your knee tighten. He stretches you back open, eyes following the way you suck him inside; coating his spindly digits with more arousal each time.

“A-ah,” you shake. “Please.”

Yoongi chances a glance up at your face, the needy sheen in your eyes, the way your mouth gapes, and decides to take mercy. 

He latches back onto your clit. Yoongi groans as you tug his hair, knocking his glasses to the ground. The pace he works your remains lethargic, savoring the kick of your hips until you grind against his mouth. 

Throaty groans vibrate against your cunt, tightening the muscles along the inside of your thighs. Neither of you are doing a good job muffling yourselves but if it’s between getting caught and having him stop then you’ll deal with the consequences when they come.

“Oh, Yoongi.” Your chest pulls tight; spurred on by the sounds of Yoongi bullying your insides, his mouth smacking against your folds. “I’m— oh, oh, oh!”

The rough crook of his fingers sends you flying. Only the pressure of his shoulders keep you from slipping off the counter as you explode against his mouth. Euphoria rushes your veins, licks of pleasure overwhelming. Every muscle quivers as Yoongi works you through until you use his hair to pull him away.

He’s quick on his feet. You’re still recovering as Yoongi pushes your bra down and draws one of your nipples into his mouth, licking and sucking until you pull his hair again. Eyes cinched tight, face wet, you force his pants open then his underwear until Yoongi is almost as exposed as you are; pretty in your palm, sticky and hot to the touch.

But it’s not enough to feel him in your hand, you need to feel him inside. To fill you up where you sit hollow and aching without his fingers to provide a sliver of relief. “Fuck me.”

Yoongi doesn’t tease, has no quip about how needy you are. He keeps his mouth on your chest and uses his hands to grab something out of his pocket. It happens so fast you don’t even realize the condom is on until he nudges between your legs.

Your nails dig into his back, breathing through the initial stretch is the only way you stay quiet. Yoongi hides himself back in your neck, strained noises clawing out of his throat.

Yoongi isn’t gentle. Not caution or waiting. Months of push and pull destroy any desire for him to treat you as something fragile. He rushes into desperately, forcing your palm flat against the mirror behind you for some semblance of stability.

“God,” he grunts. “You’re incredible.”

You whimper a quiet acknowledgement, too fucked out to blush under his praise; pulling Yoongi closer until he’s scooping his hands underneath your ass, thrusting into you over and over. His mouth finds yours. Greedy. Hungry. 

It’s Yoongi who struggles to stay quiet. Even through the kiss he moans loud enough you feel it in your throat. You listen to them all, twisting the hand knotted in his hair to hear the whine you’ve quickly become obsessed with.

“Should have done this sooner,” your back arches and Yoongi’s mouth slips back down. 

“I tried. But you kept ignoring me.”

“I wasn’t—fuck—ignoring you.” Yoongi is everywhere. His taste on your mouth, cologne burned in your nose. The feel of him all over your body. “Shit.”

He fucks you harder to prove a point, hand slipping down to rub your clit. Your second orgasm glows on the edges. If Yoongi keeps playing with you, stretching you in half on his cock and biting a mark into your breast, you know you’ll come.

You focus on breathing. Letting it come to you instead of chasing it, overthinking it to the point it evades you. It’s easier than usual. Yoongi doesn't leave room for anything else beyond feeling good. 

“Oh my god,” you whisper as the cord tightens. 

Everything turns white hot, pleasure tearing through your muscles and ripping them to shreds. You convulse in Yoongi’s hold, only pinned down by his hips fucking you brutally. Nerves shot, Yoongi babbles praise in your ear but it's indecipherable from the headrush.

Yoongi follows you over the edge a few strokes later, twitching inside you until he stills. His hips give a few arrhythmic bucks as he fills the condom with his load. 

There's something nastier about clothed sex. The way sweat makes your clothes cling tighter, the rush of needing each other so badly you can’t be bothered to do more than pull things to the side. 

You feel dirty but in a good way. Yoongi kisses across the apples of your cheeks, your chin, your forehead, even your brows, but never returns to your lips. Each leaves you more frustrated than the last, muscles twitching beneath and head turning at the last second to try and meet his mouth. 

Tricking you with a brief connection, he laughs when you chase his lips as he dodgers back. But a pout and whine bring him back into your orbit.

He cleans you up with paper towels, wiping away the mess between your thighs with something akin to disappointment. But he doesn’t complain as he fixes your clothes and then his own. Muscles like jelly, you fall into his side when he helps you down from the counter. 

With a kiss to your temple, “Let's get out of here.”

“Morning, Yoongi.” You smile as you walk up to his desk.

A set of dark eyes rise to greet you, taking the cup of coffee you so graciously offer before smiling as well. “Good morning.”

Jungkook gawks like he’s never seen you two speak before. Round eyes bounce between you and Yoongi as if it’s a tennis match instead of a normal conversation. Probably because Yoongi was less than subtle when he pulled you out of the building yesterday, telling him to call Namjoon if anything came up.

Or maybe because you’re wearing one of Yoongi’s shirts.

You discovered much about the mysterious librarian overnight. He’d taken you back to his apartment; a perfect extension of himself decorated with dark furniture and more books than anyone could possibly read. Yoongi owned a collection of vinyl records that rivaled his book collection, he was a great cook, and he was studying to take the entrance exam for law school. 

After you were wined and dined, Yoongi dedicated hours between your legs. On his couch, against the massive bookcase in his living room, between the sheets of his bed. 

He also had a kink for eating you out while you explained your thesis in precise detail.

You’d only been allowed to leave when Yoongi was getting ready for work, not that you'd put up much argument. 

You make a scene of sorting through the stack he slides over. It’s not that you don’t trust Yoongi. But now that you’ve had a taste, you’re addicted to his presence. But he unfortunately can’t follow you upstairs so you savor the time now. 

“One of my books is missing,” you say.

“Oh, right.”

Yoongi passes over an unfamiliar copy.

Maybe He Just Likes You

And the blue sticky note attached, with his handwriting. ‘Dinner when you're done?’

Taglist: @tomodachiii @cvpidyunho @miniseokminnies @ddaengpotate @arycutie @gaebestie @primoppang @gyuguys @mine-gyu @doremifasire @missminhoe @toplinehyunjin @crvs4vldtn @prettygyuuu @sliceofwoozi @dokyeomkyeom @yoonguurt

© highvern. copying/reuploading/translating my work anywhere is strictly prohibited.

[loserdiaz]

no but i can't stop about eddie finding queering the map and being overwhelmed by the amount of stories that resonate with him.

it starts with buck, because of course it does.

buck comes into the station one day, rambling about this site he found online. he's still figuring out bisexuality for himself and has been going down a rabbit hole ever since, reading endless articles and reddit stories and experiences told from so many people.

and something about it, about this particular site, catches eddie's attention. he really can't stop thinking about it, wondering if people from el paso would have any of those pins. if anyone from the place he grew up in, was raised in, ever felt like him.

he can't stop wondering if maybe he was never as alone as he thought he was.

when he gets home, he decides to look for himself— it takes him a while. there's too many black pins and he doesn't quite know how to navigate the huge map on his screen. it takes him a few minutes to get the hang of it.

but when he does— oh, when he does.

right there in el paso, people from the same streets he once rode his bike in, are sharing his experiences. fellow soldiers in the same base eddie trained at.

eddie reads these sacred, secret little messages and feels his heart expand more and more with every each one of them.

some of them makes him laugh and chuckle, teary eyed but amused, like "even the army has gays," and "from one gay cowboy to another."

others, nake him falter. make his bretah hitch inside his chest. make something beautiful and fragile and orecious uncurl from the deepest depths of his soul. make him feel seen in a way he isn't sure he's quite ready to.

messages like— "you're not the only one," and "you'll be okay." "the heaven the people from this town speak of, is not a heaven i wanna be sent to." "i should've told him when i had the chance." "stuck in a warzone, thinking about how i wasted so much time and now i might not make it home to him."

messages that hit a little too close to home. from soldiers still in the closet, struggling to accept themselves and living a lie.

messages from dumb teenagers, scared of the future— just like eddie had been once.

messages from people braver than he ever could be, sharing the stories of how they came out to their families and moved across the country to be able to live their truest selves.

eddie spends hours and hours just reading post after post, goingbthrough as many lins as he can and drinking them in as a dying, thirsting man in the middle of the driest desert. he reads until the light from the comouter makes his head hurt and his eyes burn everytime he blinks.

at the end, before closing the tab, he decides to put on his own note.

📍not sure if I'll ever be ready to say it out loud, but I love him. i'm too late. I've lost my chance. this changes nothing, my heart is still in his hands.

he clicks on add and feels the tiniest amount of weight lifting from his shoulders.

[padawansuggest]

Obi-Wan: *sitting at the table with a bunch of clones, noticing a couple shinies looking awkward* Oh, I guess I could just-

Cody: They’re not upset about you, they just think we’re not allowed to talk about hobbies while you’re around.

Obi-Wan: *perks up* oh? What kind of hobbies?

Shiny 1: I like to knit, but that’s not actually what we were talking about.

Obi-Wan: Oh that’s amazing, I picked up knitting from Master Tra Saa as a Padawan, she forced Tholme and me and Quin into the ugliest sweaters as kids. My own master crocheted blankets for the crechlings. I’ll have to introduce you to the other clones I know that knit.

Shiny 1: *perks up all cute and sweet* Oh, that would be nice!

Obi-Wan: :) and you?

Shiny 2: I wouldn’t really call it a /hobby/-

Waxer: Nah, it totally counts.

Boil: Yeah. Cody used to make a hobby out of seeing how much he could stress out the alphas before they put him in the corner.

Cody: We needed to know how much we could get away with! What went too far and we’d get in major trouble for!

Boil: Exactly. Our commander is a limit pushing brat. Yours totally counts as a hobby.

Shiny 2: I mean… *sees Obi-Wan’s encouraging look* I run a holoweb blog where I track the finances and voting habits of all senators who vote against giving clones right or safety measures.

Boil: See! His blog is famous and he’s even getting death threats over it! Which is funny cause he always just publishes them and three senators have been questioned publicly about it.

Waxer: If I had the tech skills for this, trust me, I’d make it my hobby too.

Shiny 2: *nervously looking at Obi-Wan*

Obi-Wan: …can I have the link to that blog? It sounds more than just a hobby, that sound useful…

Shiny 2: *perks up* Oh? Okay.

Obi-Wan: Besides, it’s more productive than I ever got up to as a kid. I went through a phase where I wore a Sparvard (Space Harvard) sweater everywhere to trick men into talking to me. I found them amusing. I always told them I thought it was a gay dating app. They didn’t like me much.

Cody: Oh, I love the antagonism of it!

Obi-Wan: I thought you might.

[reminiscingtonight]

Gay 4 Me

Alessia Russo x Reader

Word Count: 1.2k

A/N: A little spiciness, talks about solo-action if you get my drift. Based on the G Flip and Lauren Sanderson song

[WOSO Masterlist]

You find out by accident. 

Katie, shit-stirrer she is, is in the midst of ribbing the fuck out of Alessia. The striker had missed one too many goals, one too many passes, one too many everythings at practice and the Irish woman’s taking too much joy in rubbing it in her face. 

“Mate, you’re too stressed. Gotta find yourself a lovely lad or someone to work out the tension.”

“There’s no tension, Katie!”

“Tell that to your shoulders,” the brunette snorts, fingers flicking at Alessia’s shoulder. 

The blonde bats her hands away, a frown on her face. “There’s no tension,” Alessia repeats, annoyance leaking into her voice.

“There’s no shame in getting a bit of help, Lessi.” Katie shrugs. “I might judge your taste in… partners, but that’s exactly what they’re for. To help us relax a bit.”

“I don’t need help relaxing,” Alessia huffs.

It takes a second, but Katie eventually gets what the blonde’s telling her. Katie’s mouth splits into a devilish grin. The Irish woman’s always more than happy to get too close and personal, invading everyone’s private lives. 

“What, your fantasies that good?”

Alessia rolls her eyes. “I never said they’re fantasies, McCabe.”

“Oh come on, you can’t say straight sex is that good to be reminiscing about.”

“Well I never said it was straight sex now did I?”

Katie’s mouth drops open and Alessia uses the moment of reprieve to push past the Irish woman. 

You tuned into the conversation the second the two of them made it into the locker room. You’re not sure what it is but something about Alessia is just so magnetic, always drawing you in no matter what you’re doing.

So yeah, you’re already listening to Alessia and Katie’s bickering when you find out that Alessia apparently has no qualms getting some solo action. But those words paired with blue eyes flashing towards you has you struggling to swallow.

Good lord. 

Alessia Russo touches herself to the memories of the two of you having sex. And she just admitted it to the whole locker room. 

(Not that the girls know which memories she’s getting off to, of course)

A bolt of arousal shoots right through you as you drop your head, face flaming red. 

You can still remember the night it happened. The taste of tequila sharp on your tongue after a night out with the team. You’ll argue that the alcohol lowered your inhibitions but truthfully nothing but pure lust made you trail after your blonde teammate out of the bar. Alessia felt soft under you, the noises she made sounding like music to your ears. What she lacked in experience she clearly made up for in skill, easily bringing you to the precipice multiple times just as you did her.

Just the thought of sweet little innocent Lessi, hand shoved between her legs, nothing on her mind but your hot night together as she brings herself to release makes you want to take her apart right here right now. 

The feel of a hand trailing down your back has you hurtling back into the present, breath caught in your throat in surprise. Alessia seems amused when you start hacking away. Her hand stays in place as she hands you your water bottle.

“All good?” Her face is the picture perfect example of innocence but you can see right through her.

“All good?” you mock, shoving at her lightly. Alessia laughs, discreetly running her hand down your arm, pausing to give your bicep an appreciative squeeze before taking it back.

“Of course.” Her words are paired with teeth biting her bottom lip and you have to fight the urge to sink your own teeth into the rosy skin.

“You’re killing me, Less,” you groan under your breath.

“You can’t seriously be blaming me, can you? Was quite rude how you left me with an ache if I’m being honest.”

Eyes bulging at Alessia’s confession, you find yourself choking on yet another breath.

It’s the way she says it without any embarrassment, eyes glimmering with a slight challenge, that takes you off guard.

Deep in your head you can still hear your cousin’s warning when Alessia first signed for Arsenal. Ella had backed you into a corner at a family gathering, finger digging into your sternum the second you walked through the doors.

“Alessia’s my best mate and she’s the sweetest and most innocent girl ever. You better take care of her when she joins your stupid little club or so help me I will make your life a living hell the next time we see each other.”

You couldn’t find it in yourself to tell Ella that she seemed as threatening as a scraggly chihuahua. But you promised her that you would watch out for the blonde.

If only Ella could see her best friend now. Not so innocent and pure as she thought.

Though you really have no one to blame for that but yourself.

You know your cheeks are burning right now and you pray that none of your teammates are paying close attention to you and Alessia. If anyone was, they’d instantly know you guys are talking about things less than PG friendly.

Nervously chuckling, you keep your eyes trained to your bag, trying to ignore the way you can feel Alessia staring at the side of your face. “That great, huh?”

Alessia clicks her tongue, an action that has your head instantly going to the gutter, remembering exactly what she could do with the muscle. “If I’d have known how good you were in bed I would have asked Ella to hook us up eons ago.”

She’s grinning when you look up at her with an incredulous expression. “Alessia!”

“What?” she laughs, easily intertwining your fingers and leading you towards the door when she realizes you’re done packing. She leads you past a still dumbfounded Katie by the door, pausing long enough to wink at the Irish defender before you’re slipping away to the parking lot.

You have a feeling you’re going to have to endure an interrogation from the brunette in the days to follow, but right here right now, hand still caught in Alessia’s as you walk her to her car, you can’t find it in yourself to care all that much. 

Especially when Alessia suddenly hooks her fingers into your belt loops and yanks, sending you crashing into her body. You tilt your head back and laugh, arms resting around her shoulder so you don’t completely barrel her over.

“Well hello there,” she winks, as if she’s not the reason you’re currently pressing her against her own car.

“Alessia,” you return evenly, raising an eyebrow in question.

“I have a bottle of tequila and microwaveable chicken nuggets at my place. Wanna recreate some memories?”

You narrow your eyes at the striker. Her smile turns a little more teasing.

“Would you rather I straight up ask for you to put your fingers--”

“Shut up and get in the car, Less.”

[maximotts]

☽ 𝖕𝖑𝖆𝖞𝖎𝖓𝖌 𝖜𝖎𝖙𝖍 𝖌𝖍𝖔𝖘𝖙𝖘 ☾

☾ 𝖐𝖎𝖓𝖐𝖙𝖔𝖇𝖊𝖗 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟑: private hire!WandaNat

So @nats-firefly and I discussed this idea way before October, but brought it up again when I mentioned wanting to do a ph!WandaNat thing and now.. here we are.. filth amongst sleepy gays

private hire AU. kinktober masterlist. 18+ only, minors dni. you don’t need to add community labels, I’ve put adequate warnings below.

wc: 4.5k. cw: smut that starts out fluffy, but Wanda gets irritated. kinda cuddly sex. groping. fingering. punishments/attention denial. humiliation/degradation in the form of being babied. brief oral. overstim. typical Nat annoying Wanda. bratty reader bc people are always asking to see what would happen if you pushed Wanda's limits.

No outside clothes on the bed.

One of Wanda’s few house rules and generally easy to follow… until you were exhausted and she was snapping her fingers at you before you could take a second step towards her mattress.

Typically if you were too tired to seek out pajamas you’d suck it up and fall into your own bed, passing out until you gained energy to sort yourself out in the morning, but tonight was different. Your shift was long and felt even longer, filled with coworker mishaps and annoying customers that left you checking your watch every few minutes towards the end of the night. All you dreamt of on the ride home was Wanda and her warm bed, knowing she’d most likely be up despite the late hour. 

She had the tendency to worry; no matter how even-tempered she appeared, Wanda stayed up as late as she could for Natasha, and now you as well, to come home to her. You’d headed out earlier than your normal shifts, just after midnight, and with your boss always being notified the moment you left work, there was no doubt Wanda would be wide awake.

As expected, you found Wanda in her bedroom, nose deep in a book. She looked so happy to see you, you thought maybe you could skirt by her standards just this once-

“Don’t you dare get those dirty clothes anywhere near my new comforter.” 

“Wandaaaaa…” You groaned like a child, halfway to stamping your foot if you didn’t know that’d get you kicked out instantly. “I’m exhausted! It won’t ruin anything just once.”

But no amount of puppy dog pouts could make Wanda budge; the woman was so stubborn for the smallest things. You’d seen Natasha tease her for it, and even then, she stood firm; apparently there was a time when Wanda didn’t care, but once she started buying stuff of her own, she was intent on keeping it in order. “Not a chance. I can see at least three different cocktails spilled on your shirt! Get rid of the clothes or say goodnight and go to your bed.”

“So unfair…” The wardrobe across the room felt like too far of a journey, but you’d looked forward to the warmth of Wanda too much to deny yourself now. Before you knew it, you’d begun shedding your clothes, kicking them away into a lazy pile on the floor and wandering back over to your goal. 

Unexpected as it was, the sight of you tiredly stripping down amused Wanda and she didn’t stop you from sliding into bed, chuckling at your silly display of wiggling around until you successfully crawled on top of her fully clothed form. “Well aren’t you clever? Always trying to find yourself a loophole.”

“I like to think that’s what you love me for.” Tired arms wrapped around Wanda’s middle, resting your chin on her chest to gaze up at the older woman. Sleeping naked wasn’t your plan, but the act wasn’t unfamiliar, particularly in this room. Most of the time, though you got into bed wearing some kind of sleepwear, either Wanda or Natasha found a reason to take them off, anything from claiming to want a simple look to being straightforward in their desire to stake their obvious claim on you.

“I love you for a great many things, little one.” She let her book gently bop the top of your head before setting it aside on the nightstand, happy to give you her full attention. Spending the day alone wasn’t awful, but she missed you and Nat terribly, always preferring to be with at least one of you when she fell asleep.

The two of you settled into an easy embrace, Wanda drawing patterns over your bare back as you cuddled against her soft silken pajamas. Even back in silence like she’d been before your arrival, Wanda felt different, lighter, knowing she could hold you safe and her wife was on her way too. “How was your night? I got updates about some out of line people… I hope no one gave you too hard of a time.”

You shook your head, your frustrations melting away now that you were snuggled up to Wanda. It all seemed so far away while you were laid safe in your bosses’ cozy bedroom. “Nothing terrible, just felt like it lasted forever. It’s the Halloween crowd madness starting up, I think…” 

The brunette nodded and listened as you went through details, throwing in a comment or two when needed; engaged even as her hands began wandering. She didn’t realize what she was doing at first, smoothing over the indulgent feel of your delicate skin. You were always just so pliant and willing; honestly, she decided you deserved a reward for following her rules with the last bits of your energy. Wanda loved knowing you’d chosen her over sleeping across the hall; it was hard to stay firm when she was also tired of sitting by herself, but if she gave in once, she’d never hear the end of it.

It started out innocent enough that you didn’t question her, overexerted muscles enjoying the gentle massage of your ass and thighs. By the time Wanda pushed your hips up to make room for her hand, you’d been pacified into a calm state of security all you offered was a pleased hum when she stroked over your mound. “You’ve done so much today. It’s about time you let me take care of you now.”

“Mhm..” She drew you in for a kiss, fluffy and sweet, mindful of your exhaustion. Wanda was always cautious of your state of mind, her considerate coddling making it easy for her to know exactly what you needed. If you needed her to take away all memories of her bad night, who was she to deny you? 

Annoying as it’d been to be stopped on your way to bed, getting out of your work clothes did feel better and now you’d reap the benefits of choosing Wanda. Her touch was slow, sliding over center more to slowly work you up rather than to tease, like easing into a warm bath. “Thank you, mommy.”

“Of course, baby. You earned it for how hard you worked.” Her continued praise left you hiding your giggles in her chest, a dumb smile stamped on your features as Wanda dipped her first finger past your entrance. Rarely was Wanda this affectionate with you during sex, but she’d have to remember to do so more often, if only for how cute you looked right now. “I think someone likes being told they did a good job.”

“Maybe a little?” Your love of her acknowledgement was well known, there was no use denying it, but your sleepiness put you in a sillier mood— one that in turn rendered you more playful.

Oddly enough tonight, Wanda also happened to be relaxed enough to feed into it. “Something tells me it’s more than a little.” She fingered you open steadily, no rush to her movements, content to keep her mission slow for the time being. “If how desperately you’re squeezing my finger is any clue, you like it a lot…” 

You mumbled some noncommittal response, squeaking as Wanda pushed further. It was way too little, but you were unwilling to speed up whatever the two of you had fallen into, much more interested in letting Wanda do what she pleased and seeing where it went. “Fine, I do like it when you tell me you like the work I do..”

“Good girl!” This time when she kissed you, she tugged your lip between her teeth, sucking at it until the red matched the flush of your cheeks. She was so happy to have someone who caught on quickly and so easily accepted doing things her way; Natasha always put up a fight, you were a lovely change of pace. “What else would you like? Another finger?”

“Yes! Yes please!” Pretending not to be interested in that suggestion would only hurt you, the much desired stretch of her long digits too tantalizing to pass up. Low on willpower, you easily went docile, letting Wanda’s care drive away the day’s anxieties.

You wiggled happily as her second finger joined the first, legs spreading as far as you could get them. Maybe you were being terribly obvious, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care when this was exactly what you’d longed to come home and experience. “I still would’ve made you take off your clothes, but if you needed this, you could’ve asked.” 

Wanda thrusted into you harder now, bottoming out each time and like clockwork your moans came in tandem. She was so deep, you already felt so full, but still your hips rocked into her hand, unabashed in trying to find the perfect angle. “Wanted you all night.. To have you hold me and make me feel good.” 

It was true; falling into bed naked would almost always lead to something like this, but the how was forever a fun surprise. Wanda misjudged your ability to plot this out, but wouldn’t apologize for her predictable handsy nature; what fun was having a girlfriend if she couldn’t keep her hands on you whenever she pleased? 

“And you didn’t feel like asking so you figured you’d wait for me?” Wanda’s fingers curled and you nodded frantically, both answering her question and encouraging her to keep going. She did it again and again, letting her fingers stay put while your desperation grew; Wanda wasn’t particularly bothered by your little con, but she’d hate to let you fully get over on her. 

Free hand traveling from your backside to your chin, Wanda grabbed your face and tapped your temple, forcing your attention. “Look at me if you’re going to properly own up to your trickery.”

Meeting Wanda’s gaze was nearly impossible with how turned on you were, her sharp green eyes against her soft, makeup free face was just so.. beautiful— and you’re hopeless with pretty women. “I’m sorry, mommy. Can I still cum?”

“You’re bold enough to think you were ever allowed without asking?” Once in a while Wanda feared Natasha was right: she bent too easily whenever it came to you. Judging as her voice may sound, Wanda wouldn’t have thought twice about letting you carry on. With how distracted she’d become with your darling behavior, the biggest reprimand would’ve been a pat on the back before letting you fall asleep on her chest as if she’d never set a single rule for you. 

Wanda hated admitting Nat was right. “Don’t tell me you’re too tired to remember how to behave.”

“No! No, I’m not, please!” Wanda might’ve been in bed before you’d arrived, but she was far from asleep and while your version of playful was sweet, hers could easily be brash. She’d discovered your plan, fine, but you hadn’t planned for Wanda feeling anything but surprised. If she wanted to, your girlfriend would torment you for hours. Enduring any kind of punishment tonight would be torturous in your already exhausted state. “I wasn’t, I promise!”

“I know, baby, I know,” she cooed, kissing your quivering lips. You whined into her mouth as her hand sped up, as if Wanda suddenly decided to hurdle you towards orgasm, and your poor fatigued brain had to fight to keep up. “Sometimes you just get so sleepy and it’s hard to remember to ask out loud, yeah?”

It was an excuse both of you leaned on, you to appear like you hadn’t meant to overstep and Wanda to be able to point at your sleep deprivation when Natasha inevitably asked why you felt so emboldened to act out in the next few days.

“I forgot, I’m sorry… won’t do it again.” The gentleness of her words always charmed you, seeing Wanda’s soft side that was reserved for only you and her wife turning you on effortlessly. “Please, so close…”

Her thumb rolled over your neglected clit and your entire body shuddered, clinging onto Wanda as tight as you could. Fortunately for her, you didn’t have enough strength to restrict her breathing. “I wish you could feel how soaked my hand is right now, poor messy thing. If I let you cum, will you make those pretty noises I love hearing?”

“I’ll do whatever you want,” The words came out smashed together, too preoccupied with Wanda curling her fingers in sync with her thumb, setting a pattern so mind numbing you didn’t realize your eyes had rolled back until the brunette dug her nails into the nape of your neck— nor did you hear Natasha walking through the door.

“How many times have I warned you not to promise her that?” 

You startled at the extra hand on your head as it ruffled your messy hair before holding you still enough to kiss your temple. Natasha smelled earthy, like she’d been hunting in the woods; a stark contrast from where you last talked to her at the bar downtown. “Three hours ago when I saw you, you told me you felt dead on your feet, but refused to be sent home too early. Is Wanda keeping you up?”

“Yes, b-but I…” All at once you were keenly aware of how vulnerable you looked laid limply on Wanda, begging to cum as pitifully as a neglected pet. Nat had seen you like this and worse too many times to count, but being caught right on the edge left you shy. 

“But she came home looking for it,” Wanda finished for you, pinching your thigh before you tried to pin your wanton display all on her. “Pajamas were too hard for our hard-worker to get to, but she wanted to sleep with me so she went with nothing because she’s smart enough to know it’s better to give me what I want.”

“More like I’ve taught her how to choose her battles when it comes to you.” The redhead didn’t force you to pull your gaze from where you hid your face in Wanda’s chest, choosing to smooth out the stray hairs she’d given you and while the gesture was sweet, both women pretty much babying you was overwhelming. 

She wasn’t wrong, having learned either firsthand or from Nat’s instruction what was worth challenging versus when compliance was mandatory; she insisted there’d be a day when she could break Wanda of her bed linen obsessions. Both reasons your bosses gave you sounded submissive to one or the other, there was no use in acting tough when they were currently fawning over you like a lost lamb…

Silly as you were, you tried. “I was just sleepy.”

“Yeah? So sleepy you were begging for my fingers? Don’t try telling me you just wanted to sleep on them.” The idea shouldn’t have affected you as much as it did, but you were adjusting before you could convince yourself not to, pushing Wanda’s fingers deeper where they’d retreated from your entrance. Nat couldn’t see it, but Wanda could feel the subtle movement, digits brought back into wet warmth you were suddenly intent on denying existed and it occurred to her then you had a bit of a stubborn streak as well.

Nothing she and Natasha couldn’t conquer though. “We just had a little chat about being upfront about what you want. Surely you’d tell me if all you wanted was to go to bed, sweetheart.”

But you were too busy throwing the comforter over your head, shrouding yourself from head to toe. “You started touching me.”

Wanda and Natasha’s dual bombardment was dizzying, enough to leave you fighting not to grab Wanda’s wrist and move it yourself. They were too observant, knew exactly what buttons to push when you were in a certain headspace; when you came home stressed like tonight, they’d seen how much better off you were after you let go, but often you needed a little help getting there.

Wanda got you close, but Nat’s sudden appearance threw you off and now she was back to square one. It wasn’t any lack of security around her -you loved Nat as much as you did Wanda and always felt safe with both of them- you, again stubbornly, always wanted to feel like you were impressing the redhead. The couple joked about it often, how quick you were to turn to Natasha and search her typically stoic face for any sign of amusement; with even the faintest hint of a smile the pair swore they saw hearts fill your eyes. “She’s had enough of you, Wanda. Give her a break.”

“Oh boo hoo,” Wanda scoffed, sticking her tongue out at the woman standing next to her, “you always go so shy around her, wanting to look cool. She can be just as submissive as you are right now, trust me.”

“I am not!” There were some things you’d see less than a handful of times in your life; a submissive Natasha was one of them. 

“There you go, denying it just as hard as this one.” Wanda laughed loud enough to jostle you, chest bubbling with laughter under your hot cheek. She went back to rubbing your back with one hand, trying to comfort you amongst her blatant enjoyment of your predicament. Still her fingers stayed between your legs, stroking your folds lazily and confirming it was the very mortification you suffered that soaked you further.

Natasha made your same mistake, presuming Wanda was too preoccupied to bother with her sheets; she got as far as a welcome home kiss from her wife before a warning once over wordlessly directed her to get rid of her dirty leather jacket and scuffed jeans. “Yeah yeah, I’m going to change. Worry about that wiggly thing you’ve got weighing you down. I think you’ve summoned a blanket creature.”

“Aww, mommy’s little ghost,” she mocked, nuzzling her head atop yours before setting her wrist back to work. You’d been on the brink of something so blissful just moments before, it was all too easy to bring you back there. Even if you insisted on hiding from her and Nat now. “What’s the matter? You were just fucking yourself silly on my hand.”

“Nuh uh,” You wanted to sound more defiant than you had, but your voice sounded shaky and small. The futile attempt only brought more laughter to the pair, having unwittingly become their nightly entertainment. 

“No? You’re not a very good liar.” One of Wanda’s most prominent shortcomings was her impatience, a facet that heavily influenced when you and Natasha backed off and let her be. Not only did you forget to account for that now, you’d taken her earlier gentleness for granted instead of recognizing it for the reward it was: two missteps you were too dazed to notice drew on her fragile patience. 

“If you admit it, I’ll drive you wherever you want tomorrow.” She was trying so hard to stay careful with you despite how close she was to the end of her own rope, but all you came back with was a bullish shake of your head. “We can get your favorite pizza and try out that milkshake bar you keep trying to drag us to-”

“Oh yes, surely bargaining with your brat of a ghost will make her behave better!” Nat must’ve wandered into the closet based on how far away she sounded, too far to argue with even if you did want to dig yourself a deeper hole by defying both your girlfriends. 

“Shut up, Tasha, you’re such a pain.” It was a muttered jab, Wanda now bored of arguing and your withdrawal. So what if she had to coax you into it, she missed watching your sweet, unguarded face fall apart before her. She tried not to hold it against you too much; obviously you were so worn out you didn’t know what to do with yourself, but she couldn’t shake her annoyance completely. 

Playing nice wasn’t working anymore; maybe you’d settle faster if she let you be as invisible as you’re pretending. “She wasn’t difficult until you got here. I think showing off to you so much is making her pick up bad habits.”

“I don’t have bad habits- fuck…!” She shut you up with a too far thrust, fingertips pressing painfully deep. You weren’t a brat, not to Natasha and certainly not to Wanda, tired hips finally trying to match the latter’s motions just to prove you were ready to be cooperative again, but you’d blown your chances for Wanda’s grace and now she wasn’t listening.

Despite your denial, Wanda let you finish for the sole purpose of making you feel how obvious of a lie you’d spun. “Ignore me all you want, but we all know what your needy little cunt was after.”

You were certain she’d shove you off, roll you over, something with how she might as well have spat her last sentence at you, but instead of the absence of her, you got more. Wanda didn’t let up for a second, pistoning in and out all while settling into a casual conversation with her wife who’d just flopped down on the opposite side of the bed.

“I-I’m…” Oh. Wanda’s thumb brushed over your neglected clit like it was nothing more than a fidget toy, flicking back and forth while you fought a losing battle over control of your body. You pawed at her clumsily, legs scrambling for purchase as you tried to lift up for just a second and break free, but all your struggles were no match for Wanda’s strength. “Mommy?”

No response. For you, at least. Wanda was busy locking lips with Natasha, a quick squeak of her own pulled as Nat nipped along the corners of her mouth. “I wish you could’ve seen all of the costumes today, Tasha. I sent pictures, but with no text back I assumed you were busy all day.” 

She had to hear you, impossible to miss with how you not only called out her name repeatedly but kissed apologies along her sternum, pleading for acknowledgement. And yet, Wanda didn’t seem to spare you a single thought. Her hands stayed firm on either side of your lower half, one splayed over the small of your back to keep you still and the other inspecting an ever-growing mess, the heavy drag of her so intense you were toeing the edge of a second climax within minutes. 

If Natasha paid you any mind, you couldn’t tell, but her sympathy was rare, always the one warning Wanda against being too forgiving. Her current affection was the only thing keeping Wanda from snapping on you entirely though, knowing as much as she was focusing on getting you ready for bed, Wanda was fighting sleep too and it was making her moodier by the second. “You should’ve taken my text back as a reminder that I don’t wear Halloween costumes, sneaky wife of mine.”

Great, both her partners chose to be difficult tonight. “Why can’t either of you just listen to me?” 

“Ohh look who’s a brat now, Wanda. Do you hear yourself?” Nat was muffled from where you were under your blanket shield, but her snark was still clear as day. 

Wanda took her mounting frustrations out physically, cruelly pulling her hand away and wrenching out of Natasha’s reach mid-kiss. The two of you shared a disappointed whine, immediately suffering the consequences of your actions, but Wanda didn’t care. “It’s for a few hours for one night! It won’t kill you, I gave you an outfit once before-”

“Put your hand back, mommy, I was so close!” 

“Don’t interrupt me when I’m talking. You know better.” Wanda did return her hand in the form of a rapid succession of slaps, the thick, wet sounds of her open palm meeting your soaked, puffy core humiliating you beyond belief. It hurt, yes, but as the sting lingered it only stoked your desire for her further and as you pinned your lover’s hand between you and her thigh, you found you hadn’t lost a single bit of your need. 

Learning from your mistake, you didn't push her, whining and pathetically getting yourself off while Wanda went back to coercing Natasha into Halloween fun. Obedience won you back some favor, three fingers now stretching you ruthlessly, second orgasm hitting you by surprise and bleeding straight into the third. 

Somewhere around then was where you lost track of their conversation, Wanda and Natasha bickering back and forth slowly being drowned out by the ever-louder ringing of your ears. Your muscles went slack, jaw hanging open, drooling onto her wrinkling pajama shirt as you relented to Wanda’s torture and the pleasure she kept you so hooked on. 

“Too much- I can’t, I can’t..!” You stammered out, fisting the mattress in a desperate plea for mercy. Everything ached, but you felt as though you were flying, soaring high above the house and into the dark city skies— and oh how you longed to fall right back into Wanda’s arms.

The older woman backed off almost too easily, returning to the gentle caresses she’d started with, “My hand’s tired, honey.” 

You thought that’d be the end of it, that you’d stay here until you sailed into pleasant dreams, but then you were being rolled over and instead of hitting the mattress, your back met the sturdy warmth of Natasha’s lap. Relaxing there was all too easy, head rolling back onto her shoulder, moving without resistance as Nat’s fingers took hold of your chin and turned it until she could kiss you, deep and greedy. “Look at you, all fucked out already… Wanda, what’d you do to her?”

“Nothing she didn’t enjoy, whether she admits it or not. ” How Wanda managed to find her way to her knees so quickly was beyond you, but you didn’t have it in you to question. Lacquered nails slowly scratched over your pelvis where you still felt so tingly while Natasha took the opportunity to massage your newly exposed breasts, four hands exploring your exhausted body. 

It was the same type of adoration you’d hid from earlier, but you were long past shying away now. You’d had more than enough of being ignored for a good while. “Hold her for me while I finish, you know how I hate messes in bed.”

Eyes you could barely manage to keep open peered past where Nat was groping you to see Wanda tie her hair back before settling onto her stomach, shuffling forward until she was close enough to nuzzle her cheek into your soft thighs. When she kissed your clit, you mewled, oversensitive from Wanda’s earlier abuse. “Mommy.. hurts..” 

“Hush, baby, I’m only cleaning you up. I’d never hurt you,” Wanda whispered it so lovingly you had no choice to concede, discovering in the next second that even if you wanted to close your legs you couldn’t, Natasha’s own holding yours apart. She licked and sucked carefully, lulling your tired brain back into blissful nothingness. 

The last thing you remember is Natasha’s deep voice right in your ear, your nipples caught between her calloused fingers as she rolled them in time with her wife’s tongue lapping at your leaking entrance. “Go to sleep, little dove, we’ll tuck you in safe and sound… and I promise to wake you up when I’m done with mommy.”

[wileys-russo]

best friends sister II platonic!a.russo x reader

y'all have been sending in the requests for AI alessia being her gay older sister who plays for arsenal and i hope it satisfies because it was tricky to write lmao, so picture that ^ is isabella

best friends sister II platonic!a.russo x reader

"-and you promise that you're not mad?" your best friend bit down on her bottom lip nervously as you smiled as reassuringly as you could. "less of course i'm not mad! why would i be?" you laughed and shook your head at the blonde you'd all but grown up side by side with.

"because we always said the plan would be for you to go to university and me to play professionally in whatever club was closest so we could do it together, and i've ruined that!" your best friend sighed guiltily, collapsing back into her pillows.

"alessia. you are one of the best up and coming footballers there is, you've got a huge career ahead of you and this is the perfect next step to launch you into it. i'd be selfish cow and a terrible best friend to try and keep you from it." you promised sincerely, grabbing her hand and squeezing with a nod.

"will i miss you? of course. but i want you to go, i promise." you affirmed firmly. "and i promise that i'll make sure we don't drift apart. best friends for life means for life, and you better come and visit!" alessia held out her pinky as you grinned and interlocked it with your own.

"okay well that makes me feel a bit better because i was stressed about telling you!" the girl sighed and sat back up. "i've also been stuck with you for like ten years now, i'd really like a break." you shoved her playfully, ducking as she swung back at you with a grin and slid off her bed.

"please we both know you'll be a blubbering mess at the airport, your only friend off on a whirlwhind adventure and you...stuck here." alessia pouted sarcastically as you gasped. "i have loads of other friends thank you! you just refuse to accept that because you're notoriously posessive and needy." you teased back with a grin.

"and i'm off to university anyway you dickhead! where i'm sure i'll find myself a new blondie to spend my every waking day with." you jeered as she fumbled around in her cupboard for something. "you better not or i'll be forced to come back and kick her head in." alessia warned making you laugh.

"unless its a girlfriend of course, you desperately need one of those so you can stop kissing your hand." your best friend shrugged dropping a large box on her bed. "less! that was one time years ago and i told you that in strict confidence!" you kicked at her as she grinned, your cheeks blushing red.

"what? i wouldn't blame you for dating someone who looked like me, i know it's your biggest shame that you're secretly in love with me." the blonde pouted patting your leg making you roll your eyes.

"please. you know it's actually homophobic to assume that because i like girls that i like you, and here i was thinking you'd be an ally." you tutted as her eyes widened and she scrambled to ramble out an apology.

"an ally? please." you both looked up at the new voice, alessia's older sister isabella leaning in the doorway with a smirk. "have you heard of knocking?" alessia sighed as bella shrugged. "have you heard of not caring?" the older girl retorted walking into the room further as you covered up a laugh with a cough and alessia shot you a glare.

"see? she thinks i'm funny. why are you so in denial?" bella pouted, the two always arguing about something which amused you to no end given it was often over something so incredibly small it seemed they just enjoyed bickering.

there was only two years between them and they had more in common than either would care to admit, in fact both would argue they were one anothers opposite that really wasn't true.

you knew isabella had been training with arsenal in their junior academy and was hoping for a professional contract now she'd made her senior debut for the lionesses, both goals alessia was quickly following in her footsteps to also achieve, the entire russo household all football mad.

"what's all this then? college bribing you not to come anymore?" she began to rifle through the large box on the bed which you realised was full of various UNC swag. "get your filthy hands off it thank you! god knows where they've been." alessia scoffed, pushing her away and snapping the box closed.

"they're squeaky clean. want to check?" the older russo smirked, grabbing alessia by the face with her hand and pulling her into a headlock as you watched on in amusement. "get out! god i'm gonna miss you the least." alessia eventually pulled away, shoving the taller girl across the room with a glare.

"still admit you'll miss me though, and mum wants you." the girl winked backing away. "for what?" alessia questioned with a frown. "mm she did tell me, but i didn't care enough to remember." with a shrug bella left the room leaving alessia fuming and you quietly chuckling.

"why do you always egg her on by laughing! she's not funny she's infuriating!" alessia huffed glaring at you now as you held your hands up in defense, your best friend dragging you with her downstairs to see what her mum wanted.

~

"dinners ready. can you go get your sister and her friend please lessi?" carol asked, shooting the blonde a firm glare when she groaned at the request. "why do i have to come?" you laughed as she grabbed the back of your top, tugging you up with her.

"just think of it as me wanting to spend as much time with you before i leave." alessia grinned as the two of you ascended the stairs, her brothers already having moved out it just left alessia and isabella living at home.

"oh thats it is it?" you rolled your eyes knowing she was full of it as you reached her sisters door, alessia giving her sister the same courtesy she gave her as she flung her door open without knocking.

though she wished she hadn't.

"get out!" the older russo sat up quickly half naked spare some shorts and a bra, having been previously hovered over the girl pinned beneath her, the two clearly making out.

"jesus my poor eyes! dinners ready, looks like you were just about to eat though bella." alessia smirked before leaving the room, purposefully leaving her sisters door open.

"what are your ears painted on? fuck off!" bella scowled, throwing a pillow at you as you stood frozen, quickly spinning around and almost running out of the room, the door slamming closed after you.

safe to say she didn't come down for dinner after that.

"it's not even scary less, its a thriller!" you argued as you and alessia made your way back upstairs, each of you stating your case over what you wanted to watch tonight.

"my names not lily? jesus you're worse than what everyone says!" you both glanced down the hallway before entering alessia's room, the girl from earlier standing there with her arms crossed and an angry look on her face.

"sorry?" bella shrugged leaning in her doorway, clearly not sorry as the mystery girl whose name was not lily scoffed, shoving the taller girl and hurrying off downstairs to leave. "you truly are disgusting." alessia grimaced as her sister only grinned.

"careful now ally, did you used to say the same about all the girls gio snuck round?" the older girl winked, leaving her sister scoffing and about to defend herself before the door thudded closed.

"god she is insufferable."

~

"can you go make more popcorn?" alessia asked, head buried in her phone as you nodded, more than comfortable to help yourself to anything in the russo household. "can i go and make more popcorn..." you trailed off expectantly as the blonde tossed her phone beside her.

"now?" she guessed with a grin, causing you to flip her off as she tossed an m&m at your head and began to rummage around for the remote to select a new movie.

with it being half past ten at night you expected the kitchen to be vacant, though you noticed the lights were all on and as you rounded the corner you saw the older russo sister sat at the benchtop eating a plate of leftovers from dinner.

her attention on her phone she didn't notice you at first, only looking up as she heard you start to rummage around in the pantry. "surely we've started to charge you rent by now?" the older girl teased as you emerged with a bag of popcorn, rolling your eyes and tossing it in the microwave.

"i'll make sure to sign a jersey for you once i get my pro contract so you can sell it and buy my family some food since you consume so much of it." the taller girl shoved your head to the side playfully as you moved out of her way so she could rinse her plate.

"so. did you enjoy the little show earlier pervert?" she smirked, glancing at you as she dried up her plate. "what? you're so weird." you frowned, pulling yourself to sit up on the counter.

"please. you know if you asked me nicely i'd kiss you so you can stop wondering what it feels like." she grinned, moving closer to you as your frown turned into a scowl. "or so you can stop using your hand. less talks quite loudly you know." she teased, standing in between your legs as you tensed up a little.

if you were honest with yourself you'd always found her to be quite attractive but you'd never ever go there, both for your own and alessia's sake.

"i've kissed girls!" you defended truthfully, and you had, you'd just not ever progressed any further than that. "mm but have you been kissed by a girl?" the older russo quirked an eyebrow, leaning in closer as her hands fell either side of your body, somewhat caging you in.

"thats the same thing." you rolled your eyes, trying to ignore how hard your heart was hammering in your chest. "that means no then." bella chuckled, tilting her head slightly.

"i mean have you ever been properly kissed by a girl? when she's got her tongue roaming your mouth, her teeth nipping down on your bottom lip before she sucks on it to soothe the sting-" she leaned in closer as your eyes widened.

"-where one of her hands are on the back of your neck so you can't pull away until she lets you, and the other hand...well it touches other parts of you." the older girl grinned wickedly, her mouth ghosting yours before she put her plate back in the cupboard behind your head and pulled away entirely.

"baby gays are always the cutest." bella winked, ruffling your hair and walking off as if she hadn't just sent your head into a spin, the beep of the microwave making you jump a little as you slid off the counter, shaking your head to try and rid it of the thoughts you'd just had.

she was your best friends sister, she'd always be off limits.

~

"just when i thought we'd gotten rid of you." you rolled your eyes as isabella opened the door for you with a sigh. "no one else is here and your best friends in another country, so then you must be here for me?" she grinned as you pushed past her, heading for the stairs.

alessia had been gone for months now and you missed her like crazy, so much so you'd booked a flight to go and visit her during what was to be her spring break and your time off from your own university course.

though of course that meant the girl had texted you a rather elaborate list of things she'd left behind that she requested you bring with you to see her, which despite the ongoing teasing that she'd lose her head was it not attached to her body you agreed to go and collect.

"she'd kill you for being in here." you sighed as the older russo collapsed onto her younger sisters bed, making herself comfortable as you began to gather what alessia had requested.

"only if you snitch me in." the girl grinned, watching you as you fluttered around the room. "surely you have something better to do? being a big pro now and all!" you sighed, looking at her with your hands on your hips.

"so you did hear! not even a congratulations? thats just poor manners." bella tutted with a shake of her head, sitting up and moving to the edge of the mattress. "i'm not an arsenal fan." you teased with a smile, hearing her scoff in mock offence.

"you don't have to be, you can just be my fan." bella challenged as you again rolled your eyes. "you know if i had a pound for every time you rolled your eyes at me over the years i could have bought a house by now." the older russo sister grinned.

"must mean you say a lot of stupid things to have girls always rolling their eyes at you." you quipped, rummaging through and grabbing out two hoodies, tossing them onto your growing pile.

"i personally prefer to make their eyes roll back into their heads." the taller girl commented quite casually, your eyes widening for a moment at the abrupt statement but choosing to ignore it. "so what are you doing after this?" she stood and made her way out, leaning in the doorway.

"going home?" you quirked an eyebrow unsure where she was going with this. "do you want to watch a movie or something?" she asked surprising you.

"are you asking me to hang out?"

"maybe. you miss less, i miss less, though if you tell her that i'll deny it till the day i die, we may as well keep one another company."

"plus i'm older so less's entire personality comes from me anyway. so it'll be like she never left, just swap one russo for another!" she added on with a smile as you shook your head.

"yeah sure, why not."

~

"burn yourself with the straightener did you?" you flinched suddenly as the girls thumb gently pressed into a fading love bite on the side of your neck, the only lingering evidence from an incredibly drunken hook up at a university party you'd gone to over the weekend.

and much to your best friends horror and delight, where you'd finally lost your virginity, before her.

"none of your business!" you pushed her hand away as she smiled and turned her attention back to the movie. well, for a few minutes. "finally dropped the baby gay card then, feel good?" she teased as you rolled your eyes.

"stop calling me that."

"oh sorry, prefer if i just call you baby then?"

"stop, bella seriously."

"what?"

"can you not keep it in your pants around anyone? or do you just shamelessly flirt with anything that moves?" you shot her a dirty side eye only making her smile widen. "well the something has to be female, obviously." you tried to hide your smile with your hand but she grabbed your wrist.

"saw that!" she teased as you tried to pull away, the two of you messing around for a moment before she leaned in and your heart began to race, recognize her eyes flicker down to your lips.

"we can't." you whispered, hating how unsure your voice sounded. "tell me to stop and i will." she whispered back, leaning in even closer as you opened your mouth and she paused, but you couldn't speak.

taking that as permission she closed the small gap in between you both, pressing her lips firmly to yours. you'd have loved to say you pushed her off, told her again that you couldn't, thought about your best friend and what she might think.

but the only thing that consumed your mind was her and how good her mouth felt molded with your own. as you began to kiss back you felt her hands move, grabbing your hips and pulling you to straddle her lap, movie long forgotten in the background.

"alessia." you pulled away remembering your best friend as the older girl nipped at your bottom lip and your stomach twisted. "doesn't have to know." bella promised and you hesitated for a moment, but as her lips curled into a cocky smile and her hand flew to the back of your head, you knew you were a goner.

~

safe to say that was not the last time it happened, far from it.

you ignored the guilt which bubbled up in your stomach as you pretended it never happened, flying over to see your best friend and spending two blissful weeks with her, then flying over again a couple of months later to watch her in the she believes tournament where she would finally get her senior national team debut.

though of course that also meant isabella would be playing, and their whole family would be there with you.

"i'm so so proud of you!" you yelled happily as your best friend jogged over, shit eating grin on her face as she wrapped you up in a hug, isabella hanging back as she chatted with some of her team mates, though her eyes lingered on you.

and it was those lingering eyes which eventually did you both in.

you were all out for dinner after the game, you seated beside your best friend and luca, gio opposite him as the other russo sister sat across from you and mario across from alessia, carol at the head of the table.

you'd hardly spoken to her the entire time you'd been around, focusing all of your time and attention on the rare moments spent with your best friend who you knew you'd have to say goodbye to again in a few days time.

however that didn't stop the defender from trying to gain your attention, sending you subtle looks across the table as she kicked you playfully, winking at you when alessia wasn't looking.

well, when she thought she wasn't looking.

dinner finished you excused yourself to the bathroom, declining your best friends offer to come with you with a laugh as you promised to meet them outside the restaurant.

you did your business and washed your hands, hearing the door open but not bothering to look up, jumping in shock as arms wrapped around your torso and a familiar pair of lips pressed themselves to your neck.

"bella we can't." you chuckled, though still leaning your head back a little to give her more access, eyes fluttering closed as she peppered the warm skin with butterfly kisses. "can't we?" she smirked at you through the mirror with that same cocky smile that made your knees weak every time.

"i've missed you in camp." she confessed softly, spinning your body round and pushing it into the bathroom counter, wasting no time rewarding you with a searing kiss which sent your head spinning.

"they'll wonder where we are." you exhaled shakily, using all your willpower and pushing her off you. "you won't escape me later." she warned playfully, nodding for you to leave first as she hung back.

it was several hours later, you and alessia hanging in your shared hotel room together catching up just like normal, your combined laughters echoing around the room as the girls phone suddenly buzzed.

"hey i have to go talk to the training staff about something. but find a movie, i'll be back!" she promised, rolling off the bed as you nodded, not bothering to question why she was suddenly needing to speak to the training staff at almost ten at night.

alessia wasted no time marching down the hallway to where her sisters room was, knocking impatiently as she answered. "oh come on in!" the older russo chuckled as alessia shoved past her, checking the two of them were alone.

"how long?" alessia asked, crossing her arms over her chest and glaring at the taller girl who frowned, sitting down on the edge of her bed. "pardon?"

"how long have you been fucking my best friend behind my back?" alessia spat, scarily calm as a storm brewed behind her bright blue eyes. "look less-"

"no, don't lie. i saw your little fuck me eyes across the table, and it wasn't her leg you kept kicking at the table. so tell me the truth." alessia warned as her sister sighed, rubbing her face with her hands unsure how to find a way out of this.

"we haven't slept together, i promise."

"but?"

"but we've done, other things."

"you are seriously unbelievable. you couldn't just be happy plowing your way through every insecure footballer in london, you had to go for my best friend?" alessia yelled angrily, fists balled by her sides.

"woah okay less i think you're overre-"

"you're going to stay away from her bella. she's not just another name for your books, she's my best friend and a better sister to me than you've ever been!" alessia fumed, hurt flashing across the older girls face momentarily before it hardened.

"it takes two to tango. you gonna go yell at her too then?"

"she can't have known any better, which is why you're going to stay away from her. i won't let you take advantage of the fact she see's the good in people, as little of it exists in you."

"fine. get out!" the taller girl stood, shoving her sister back who scoffed, turning on her heel. "happily!" the door slamming after her, you none the wiser of anything that had just happened as alessia returned, plastering a fake smile on her face and not uttering a single word about it.

which is why it hurt all the more as you slipped out of your room to call your mum that next morning as to not wake your best friend.

making the mistake of glancing down the hall, you watched as a random girl slipped out of one of the rooms, a familiar face kissing her goodbye with a grin.

you froze and thats when her eyes met yours, not a single look of regret on her face as you stared one another down for a moment before she watched you hurry back into alessia's room.

she was your best friends sister, and that's all she'd ever be to you.

[beanghostprincess]

Silly vampire buggy being so very normal about it while the rest are absolutely FERAL is so funny.

Buggy, before Roger passed, still on the Oro: hmm, I'm kinda thirsty-

Shanks, ripping his already open shirt further off: Oh Dear, Oh My Look At ALL THIS So Very BITEABLE SKIN, Sure Hope There's No VAMPIRES Thirsting Near Me, Wink Wink!!!!

Buggy: I bet Gabban still has some juice boxes. I hope he has that guava one. I'll be right back!

Shanks, half naked and drooping: 🥺😟😥😫

<><><><><><><><><>

Mihawk: I read this interesting novel yesterday which gave me much to ponder.

Buggy: oh? Awesome! Which was it?

Mihawk, side-eying Buggy pointedly: it was a supernatural romance between a human and vampire. It was rather explicit and had many scenes which piqued my interest.

Buggy, absolutely Not Getting It: oh man. I usually hate those. It's a toss up between bad writing or the vampire is always a top. Like? Give me gay bottom vampires too, we deserve to be recognized!! Oh, Hawky, can you hand me my sunscreen?

Mihawk: ........... here.

Buggy: thanks, love!

<><><><><><><><><><><><><><>

Crocodile: hey you drink blood.

Buggy, sipping A+ out of a care bear cup: yeah?

Croc: does it work on Logia users? Or would your fangs need Haki to pierce us?

Buggy: hm. Good question? I dunno, actually!

Crocodile: seems this could be a learning experience. Would be a shame to not experiment. I know how much you like your science.

Buggy: I do like science. Yeah. Yeah. You're right! I SHOULD experiment on that!!

Croc, unbuttoning his shirt, tugging down his cravat: uh huh, well, I suppose we ought to get to it- where are you going

Buggy: to my workshop! Science waits for no man!!! Nor clown, in my case. Man clown? Vampire? Who knows. Wait. Am I a man...? Hm, what is the gender today... wait, have I eaten at all? I don't remember. Anyway, I need to grab my suit, I'm low on sunscreen again. Oh, remind me to add that to the next shipment request. Oh, I should also grab a bloody mary!! That sounds great! Okay. Bye bye!!

Croc, halfway undressed, watching Buggy run outside, start swearing bc he didn't pull up his hood and is cursing the light, before tripping flat onto his face: ............. shit.

<><><><><><><><><><><><><><>

Buggy rarely pushes the limits of his abilities BECAUSE of the vampirism. If he uses his DF more than usual, it makes him hungrier. And once he hits a certain point, he begins to lose his already loosey-goosey sense of humanity. It scares him to be so cold and uninterested, especially since he always feels things turned up to eleven. When his hits that point, EVERYTHING turns off. At best, he'll be mildly annoyed, angry, amused - but it's like being in a glass bowl, watching things happen from the outside. It terrifies him.

His partners...? Well. It does things to them too, but terror isn't exactly the dominating feeling... 👀

((Also, the romanticism of blood. Of life energy. Of an exchange of that out of love. Of giving parts of yourself to sustain and satiate another. Carrying pieces of someone else in your body to propagate your own life. Of giving and taking consensually the liquid which carries your time. The inherent provocative nature of taking someone else's essence into yourself with full permission and full understanding because they receive so much from you in turn that it is simple, easy, logical to consent to this.))

Vampires 🥰

THE FIRST ONE IS SO REAL EFJKBWEJKBWJEKBF Shanks does that constantly he's DYING for Buggy to bite him and the clown won't even notice he's trying so much. It's ridiculous. Shanks and his failguy moment simping for a vampire that doesn't want his blood.

Mihawk and Crocodile trying to flirt and failing miserably because Buggy is always oblivious to what they do is amazing and no matter the AU it's always like this. I adore. They just want their vampire boyfriend to bite them :(( Failguys.

The last thing you said is so real. Vampires can be something so romantic and I think usually books/TV shows/Media in general don't focus on the important stuff. I want to see teen!Shuggy with Buggy and Shanks traveling together right after the crew disbands (before Roger's death) and Buggy not having access to other types of blood. So Shanks offers him his blood and they have like-- This moment of realization of how intimate it is. And Buggy will forever remember what it felt like to feel Shanks' embrace while sucking his blood without any complaints. And!! Both Mihawk and Crocodile wanting to do the same but it's definitely just for the horny, they don't expect it to be so passionate and intimate, and romantic.

Also, I agree with Buggy, the vampire should be the bottom. Really necessary for this situation.

[softhairedhotch]

VERY LATE POST but i wrote a quick thing and wanted to post itttttt aaron hotchner x male reader you and aaron get locked in a bathroom for seven minutes. warnings/content: kissing, alcohol consumption, drunkeness, lil dash of penemily, flirting n kissing n making outtt, pre-relationship fun <3 word count: 1.4k also on ao3!

seven minutes in heaven

“I can't remember how it feels to kiss you,” Penelope manages to get out, sighing as she looks off into the distance. “I mean, I know that you're a good kisser, but… God. You're a good kisser.”

You feel your face burn at her admission, laughing to yourself as everyone turns to look at you. Derek raises an eyebrow and says, “Pretty boy, you've kissed my baby girl? Thought you were, y’know, gay and all that.”

“I am,” you reply with a shrug. 

“Yet you kissed her?”

“Made out with, is the right term,” Emily adds with her own giggle. “They were pretty drunk and Penny dearest got all handsy.”

“And who was I to deny such a pretty lady?”

“Wait,” Spencer butts in. “You're saying that you… you two had, that you did, that you, you slept together?”

“No,” you laugh. “Just some casual kissing and groping. You know, between friends.”

Penelope snorts and bursts out into giggles, dropping her head against your shoulder. “I forgot about the groping, but I do remember being thoroughly impressed!”

“Ew,” Derek groans, “did not need to know that!”

Dave laughs into his glass of whiskey, Spencer rubs at his eyes tiredly, and Emily throws her head back with raucous laughter. JJ giggles alongside Penelope, far more awkwardly and reserved due to not drinking as much as everyone else, and Aaron… well. He stares at you with dark eyes, a small smirk on his lips as he runs his thumb over the rim of his glass. When your eyes meet his, however, it jolts him out of his stupor and he looks away, a small blush tinting his cheeks. You cock an eyebrow at him, confused yet curious by his response, but he refuses to look back at you and you let it go, feeling your stomach flip a few times.

After everyone calms down, Penelope gasps and jumps up from her seat, stumbling for a moment before regaining her balance. “Oh! I know what we should do!”

“What, have an orgy?” Dave says, deadpan.

Penelope flushes a dark red. “That is not what I was gonna say. What I was gonna say is that we should play seven minutes in heaven!”

“Oh, god, that’ll cross so many boundaries!” Emily snorts.

“You don’t have to do anything with the person you get, of course, but if you want to then it’ll be fun!”

Aaron shakes his head. “Perhaps not.”

Dave smirks. “Don’t you wanna have some fun?”

“Are you trying to tell me something, Dave?”

“No, sorry,” Dave starts, sighing dramatically, “you’re not my type.”

The room bursts into laughter again and Aaron tilts his head at Dave with an amused look, downing his drink instead of responding. His eyes meet yours again for the briefest moment and you catch the playful glint in his eyes, unable to stop your mind reeling with all the possible meanings it could have. 

“So,” Penelope starts once the laughter has died down, grabbing an empty beer bottle from beside Derek’s foot and placing it in the center of the coffee table before sitting back down. “Let’s get going! I’ll go first!” She spins the bottle and it flies off, clattering on the ground beside Aaron’s foot. “Oh, god, does that count?”

“For your sake,” Aaron starts, picking up the bottle and placing it on the table, “I’ll say no.”

She blushes and smiles. “Right, yeah, that’d be awkward, huh? Okay, here goes.” Spinning it again, it lands on Emily. “Ohhhh my god, yes! I’ve always wanted to kiss you!”

Emily laughs and stands up, reaching out to pull Penelope up to her feet, and they drunkenly giggle together as they enter the bathroom. Derek huffs out a laugh and reaches out for the remote beside him, turning up the music. When Dave raises an eyebrow at him, Derek shrugs. “What? Just giving them some privacy.”

“Good man.”

Five minutes later, they leave the room, both of them blushing a bright red. Lipstick is scattered all over Emily’s face, mostly on her cheeks and dipping under her shirt, and Penelope’s hair is noticeably dishevelled.

“That wasn’t even seven minutes,” you tell them as they sit down on either side of you on the couch.

Spencer nods. “It was 5 minutes and 27 seconds, to be exact.”

“Well,” Emily smirks, lifting her drink to her lips and taking a slow sip, “we didn’t wanna go too far.”

“Had to stop ourselves,” Penelope grins, before turning to you. “Anywho, it’s your turn!”

Anxiously, you reach for the bottle and spin it. It does a full circle once, twice, three times, before slowing down and inching toward Spencer. Relief fills you when you notice it hasn’t landed on your boss and long-time crush when fate seems to laugh down at you and turns the bottle a few inches to the right, pointing directly at Aaron’s knee. The room erupts into cheers and laughter and before you can say anything, you and Aaron are being herded out of the living room and into the bathroom.

“Uh…” you start, trailing off when you turn to look at him properly in the new light. His eyes bore into yours and you wish the floor would open up and swallow you whole. “We can just stand here, it’s fine.”

“What? Don’t I get to see how good of a kisser you are, too? Why does Garcia get to have all the fun?”

Your jaw drops at that. “What?”

Aaron’s eyes darken as his eyes drop to your lips. Taking a step toward you, he reaches up to cup your cheek in his large hand, his face inches from yours. “I wanna see it for myself.”

“If you say so,” you manage to get out, flashing him a confident smirk and pressing your lips against his.

At first, it’s tentative, both of your lips moving slowly against the other. But then, to your surprise–as if this isn’t all a big surprise, anyway–he gently bites down on your bottom lip and plunges his tongue into your gasping mouth, deepening the kiss. Shock floods your veins but you take it all with stride, the liquid confidence egging you on, and push him back against the door with ease, pressing into him harder. It’s his turn to gasp and you can’t help but chuckle against him, feeling as if your skin is on fire.

“Shoot,” he whispers against you, chasing your lips when you pull back for air. “That was… you… Garcia was right, you are a good kisser.”

“When is she ever wrong?”

He huffs out a laugh. “True.” 

Realising you’re still pressed up against him, you flush and take a step back, feeling less confident now. Immediately, Aaron reaches out and wraps his arms around your back, pulling you back in. “Oh,” is all you can say.

“You didn’t think I hadn’t noticed the way you look at me, did you?”

You shrug, grinning. “Did you think I hadn’t noticed how you looked at me either?”

“Then why didn’t you ever say anything?”

Leaning forward, you press your lips against his with a hum. “Why didn’t you?”

“Touché.”

The two of you kiss again, starting off slow but quickly devolving into a desperate need to be as close as possible. His hands tug you as close as he can as you hold him firm against the bathroom door, fingers lost in his hair and tugging the strands in all different directions. Suddenly, someone starts banging on the door, making the two of you fly apart.

“Come on, love birds, your seven minutes are up!” Derek laughs.

“Oh, god,” you whisper, glancing at yourself in the mirror. “You think they’ll believe us if we say nothing happened?”

Aaron glances at the mirror and his eyebrows shoot up in surprise. “Would you prefer me to say yes?”

“Yes.”

“Then no, but I’m sure we can convince them.”

You snort. “Yeah, sure, whatever you say.”

There’s another knock at the door. “Eight minutes now!”

“We should leave, huh?” You say, walking toward the door and reaching for the handle. Before you grab it, Aaron’s hand is tugging you back. “Hotch?”

“Can I take you out?” He asks, tilting his head and giving you the cutest look ever. “I mean… on a, on a date.”

You smirk and kiss him once more, opening the door and walking out, him following close behind like a confused puppy. “If you spin the bottle and it lands on me, you’ll get your answer.”

You’ve never seen Aaron try so hard at a silly party game until that day.

➥ TAG LIST: @hotchs-big-hands @supercriminalbean @pandorasdreamings

↪JOIN THE TAG LIST↩

[slocumjoe]

Companions on social media

Cait; Posts gym thirst traps and videos of her working out or getting into fistfights. Can be found in the comments and DMs of women, gay or otherwise. Lots of activity in sobriety and self-help communities. Doesn’t have a lot of followers, but does fundraiser streams for a week every three months she's sober. The money goes to child abuse prevention foundations. Her most recent charity streams had her trying to get all achievements on Just Dance after someone donated 10k requesting it.

Codsworth; self-help videos for people struggling to take care of themselves. How to tidy up, how to take effective breaks, what needs to be cleaned in a house and what supplies you need...very useful, very popular with college students and teens. Once posted a video of him going at wasps with a chainsaw and gained a million subs overnight.

Curie; children's educational YouTube channel that's, somehow, more popular with young adults. Science experiments gone wrong. Think Jackass and Mythbusters hosted by a tiny French woman who approaches everything with the joy and whimsy of My Little Pony. Her most popular videos are her 100k subscriber specials, a series where she goes ghost and cryptid hunting to disprove them and demonstrate the fraudulence you can find behind such things.

Danse; has a Facebook for work purposes. It has a profile photo only because Haylen insisted. Fears the internet deeply, thinks its the closest humanity can get to staring into the void and seeing something blink. Unbeknownst to him, there's a viral video of him teaching a workout regimen to trainees. The comment sections are pure thirst. All of his coworkers know and made an oath to never speak of it.

Deacon; Is the one who snuck into training and got that video. Posted it to r/NextFuckingLevel with 🥵🥵🥵 for a caption. Owns several large meme accounts, all with distinct personalities and lives. Someone tried to dox him after suspicions, but found all accounts had different IPs and info. He's just that good. His Facebook changes profile photo every. Single. Day. He consumes an absurd amount of audio books. Drops CRAZY money on charity streams to make the host do weird shit, like 100% Just Dance. Probably sells feet pics.

Dogmeat; The internet's darling. Nick Valentine's dog who doesn't help with catching bad guys, but with far more important things; Dogmeat cuddles and plays with victims at the scene or in court. Also trained in search and rescue. Much of Dogmeat's page is just Nick sharing important information (hotlines, self-defense, survival tips, et cetera) while petting or playing with Dogmeat. Kind of a McGruff the Crime Dog vibe.

Gage; Facebook that he uses to cyberbully cop pages and Craigslist to offer his...unconventional services (pretending to be your boyfriend at family gatherings to cause drama). His pet lizard, an Argentine Tegu, has an Instagram with 3k followers. The Tegu often wins pet competitions and Gage posts the awards captioned with 🖕🏻💚🦎💚🖕🏻. Works at an amusement park, posts tell-all confessions on Reddit.

MacCready; Facebook with friends and family, posts a lot of Duncan. His YouTube history is videos for Duncan. Lots of Curie's videos. Mac has a Craigslist and LinkedIn, does odd jobs when he isn't working as a security guard at a shooting range. Activite in communities about comics, shows, and video games. Sometimes he'll post a theory about a show or comic and he's usually right. Really enjoys the meltdowns of fandoms when the media takes a nasty turn, even if he's also betrayed.

Nick; Ellie runs Dogmeat's page, Nick just does the talking. As for Nick himself, has some pages for his work (that Ellie also manages) and a Facebook profile to stay in touch with friends and family. Much like Danse, consumes media offline—except for poetry. Most of his screen time is spent on Poetry.com, one of those people that leave comments. He likes how the internet makes information and art accessible. Very peaceful and wholesome internet time.

Hancock; The void that Danse is scared of. Also does streams, but not only for fundraisers. Streams high. Streams himself trying to find his way back to his apartment late at night. Always end up in a fast food joint, trying to convince the workers to unionize. Twitter shitposter until a politician needs cyberbullying. Organizes protests. Extremely active in Massachusetts' political scene, his fans are a force to be reckoned with. Has fistfought his own fans before. Occasionally cancels himself to prove a point. Makes mock apology videos whenever another celeb/influencer fucks up.

Preston; Park ranger and community organizer. Uses Facebook and TikTok to appeal to all ages. Is unfairly good at TikTok dances. Posts safety tips, upcoming event information, etc. Does a lot of work with Dogmeat and Nick. Posts bodycam footage of him arresting people, like shutting down fire-themed gender reveal parties, or poachers. Not a lot of followers, but the bodycam footage goes viral on subreddits like r/Instant_Karma.

Piper; a journalist and blogger. Posts videos of her political rants and makeup/hair routine. Joins Hancock in politician cyberbullying. Makes commentary essays and videos, sometimes book reviews. Appears on podcasts. Her media presence is decently known, but mild. She tries to keep herself distant from it. Despite this, has a good-sized following who appreciate the lack of parasociality. Her most famous video is her trying to find the best coffee spots in Boston.

X6-88; security guard for the Massachusetts Institute of Technology who got stuck running the Twitter when the last guy got arrested on weed charges. Piper keeps DMing for an interview and he keeps blocking her accounts. He has LinkedIn for work. Half of it is redacted and involves NDAs. No other media presence except for one thing; he's an infamous esports cryptid. Across a few different shooter games, a high-rank player called X6-88 (its just his first initial and the numbers on his security badge) fucking curbstomps everyone in the match. He has never died or missed a shot. Never speaks in chat, never in team chat. He's a legend among gamers. For him, he's just relaxing on a Friday night, keeping his senses sharp. Doesn't realize there are compilation videos of streamers raging at him.

[kasagia]

❄️️Warm my heart pt. 7❄️️

Pairing: Aleksander Morozova/ The Darkling x fem! heartrender! reader Summary: The truth sets you free… sometimes even if you don't want it to. (Belated) Merry Christmas!! There is a one last part left to this story... Word Count: 4,3 k Taglist:@aoi-targaryen @budugu @flostvs1508 @chelseyyouraverageluigi ~•♤♤♤•~ Aleksander Morozova’s Masterlist ~•♤♤♤•~ ~•♤♤♤•~ Part 6 ~•♤♤♤•~ Part 8 ~•♤♤♤•~

"Leave me alone, Fedyor!" you shout at the heartrender, who somehow managed to find you in the crowded city. Christmas was in a few days, and the residents of Os Alta took to the streets to buy the rest of the gifts at the last minute.

Tomorrow, you would have probably been among them too, picking up a gift for the general, if it weren't for the conversation with that old witch who tormented you in your youth when she was your mentor and trainer.

"C'mon, Y/N. We need to go back to the Little Palace."

Fedyor grabs your arm, trying to pull you away from the bar. But you don't let yourself be distracted from your place. Instead, you pour him a glass of alcohol and hand it to him, clinking your glass against his.

"How is it that the guy I like always turns out to be a red flag? Is it because of our keftas? Do we always end up with a man fitting our outfit?"

"Oh, saints... I thought you were a little more sober." he sighs and downs his drink, sitting down next to you. You lean against him, nuzzling into his shoulder as you continue your drunken accusations and complaints.

"I am sober! I am finally sober, Freddy!"

"Fedyor." he corrects you, smiling in amusement at your cute drunken state.

"Whatever." you say and drink a shot. "The point is... that men suck." you speak in a very serious tone, as if revealing a great secret to him.

"Hey!" he says, acting indignant and playfully pushing away from you. This makes you lose your balance a bit, and you grab the wooden bar counter with all your strength.

"Not you! I mean, not gays. Well, Ivan too, since you both argued, but… Ugh! You know what I mean." you lean on his shoulder as he tries to lead you out of the bar without you noticing.

"Yeah, I can imagine." he obediently agrees and puts your cloak on you before leading you out into the streets of Os Alta.

"What I want to say is that I am finally sober from my stupid feelings, crushes, and everything I was feeling since I've started to work with that damn bastard."

"Who the hell made you hate him so much?"

"Myself. And woman. A really wise woman. We should listen to women more!" you shout, hugging him tight as you lose your balance in a rush of emotions.

"Y/N. Let's get home. Before you fall and smash your head on the ground."

"I should've taken Zoya with me. She knows how to have fun. Not like others. And she also hates him! Alina probably too. We can start a club! The club: 'I hate the Darkling." you mumble in your drunken state, holding on to Fedyor for dear life as he leads you to the Little Palace.

He thanks all the saints above for not noticing that you two are passing through the gates of the palace.

"You don't hate him. You are just hurt for some reason. I can't tell why, but I guess you should go and talk with him about anything that happened."

"You have the right!" you agree with him enthusiastically, and he frowns in surprise. From the combative and defiant way you expressed your sudden aversion and hatred for the general in the bar, he expected you to fight him at all costs. "Let's go!" his eyes widen at your words, in realisation that you weren't on a peaceful path to reconciliation at all.

You push away from him and stagger towards the general's chambers.

"No! Y/N! Wait! Not now." he says panicked and runs after you. He grabs you by the collar and pulls you back before you hit the wall.

He sighs, realising that it won't be that easy for him to convince you to go to your own chambers instead of going and arguing with Kirigan.

Aleksander was returning from a meeting with the king, to which Ivan had dragged him. He was angry at this old fool for interfering in the affairs of him and the Little Palace. Or, actually, he was so angry that he had to leave your warm arms and soft lips to deal with this royal asshole for three hours.

All he wanted was to come back to you. He secretly hoped that maybe he would find you completely naked in his bed or in his warm bathtub, waiting for him.

But when he reached his chambers, he didn't find you at all.

"Y/N?" he asks as he comes inside. He walks past the war room and kncoks on the table in case you didn't hear him walking inisde. "Y/N?"

He looks into his library, his dressing room, his bedroom, and even his bathroom (yes, he was a fool who never gave up hope), but you are nowhere to be found.

"Y/N?!" he shouts, returning to the war room. His heartbeat sped up dramatically. You weren't here. You were supposed to wait for him.

Aleksander had to find you. You wouldn't just leave without leaving a note—nothing. On the other hand, he didn't notice any signs of a fight or a skirmish in his chambers. You simply vanished. You disappeared. Like you've never been here. Like all the moments he shared with you, they were only an imagination of his mad mind. For a moment, he felt like he had lost all his common sense.

He put on the kefta again, which he threw off as soon as he arrived. He was adjusting his collar when he stopped, alarmed, hearing a noise in the corridor.

Just in case, he summons his shadows and leaves the chamber with his black shadows dancing around his fingers. He leaned out slightly, scanning the corridor, ready to cut in half whoever dared to take you from him again. He sighs in relief when he sees you on Fedyor's shoulder as you say something to him.

For a moment, he was terrified. That they came for you again, that someone took you from him again, that something happened to you again and he wasn't there in time to save you... or that you wanted to run away from him and leave him like so many others.

Like Luda or Ulla.

"Y/N." he sighs with relief. Your eyes widen as you see him.

He was walking towards you, but he stopped when he saw betrayal, bitterness, and rage shining in your eyes instead of the loving gaze he used to receive.

But that wasn't what worried him most. That was your look—the same look he got from many people in his youth when they found out he was a shadow summoner. Except that your disgusted, angry look hurt him more than any of the people's glances at him, his mother's scoldings and taunts, or the wound from the blades they tried to kill him with.

He sees how you tense up at the sight of him, watching his every little move carefully. He felt anxious, a shiver running through him as he was greeted with your hostility instead of the sweet smile with which you said goodbye to him. And he had no idea where your change in attitude had come from.

Something was wrong…

"There it is! The liar! The bastard! The walking devil himself!" you shout, walking towards him.

You trip over your feet, and he automatically takes a few steps forward to catch you in his arms before you land on the floor. He looks at you carefully, and by the strong smell of alcohol coming from you and your flushed cheeks, he perceives your condition.

He completely forgot about your hostility. For now, his priority was keeping you safe and comfortable. Firstly, he just needed to understand the reason for your drunkenness. When it turns out that nothing terrible has happened (such as the sudden death of one of your family members), then he can cope with that sinister glint in your eyes that appears each time your gaze meets his.

"Is she just drunk or something bad happened?" he asks Fedyor, confused, as he finally get together enough to say something.

"YOU! That's what happened! You are the worst fucking man I have ever felt in love with." his heart skips a beat at your drunken confession. He wanted to hear it; he had secretly craved it for some time, but certainly not under these circumstances...

"C'mon, milaya. Let's take you to bed." he whispers, nodding at Fedyor to leave. Heartrender bows to him and heads towards his chambers, leaving you two alone. He gently hugs you and leads you back to his chambers.

You lean on him, and for a moment, everything seems okay as he sits you down on his bed and kneels in front of you to untie your shoes. But when your eyes meet his face again, you go into a kind of fury, kicking him and moving away from him as far as possible.

"DON'T TOUCH ME!"

"What happened to you?!" he asks, bursting out. He doesn't understand your sudden hostility, how your attitude towards him changed in a matter of minutes—hours, actually—and how suddenly all your love and affection just... stopped existing for him.

"You!" you shout, pointing your finger at him. You wobble on your feet, and at the last moment, he comes over to catch you. This time, you let him place you on his bed and take care of you.

"More details, please." he sighs in anguish, making sure you're comfortable for the rest of the night. Whatever wrong you think he's done, no matter how mad you are at him, he won't let you escape his watchful eye like this. He would keep you safe even if you pointed a damn shotgun at him.

"I had a really nice conversation with Baghra." he freezes, halfway through unbuttoning your coat. Baghra talked to you. His mother, who hated his insides. Various scenarios and stories that she could have told you run through his head. He's glad you're telling him that when you're drunk. At least this will give him time to prepare his counter-speech until you sober up and can have a serious conversation. He just hopes that Baghra hasn't had time to make you completely hate him and to turn you against him in the few hours he's been gone. "That's it, you lying traitor! I know everything!"

"Y/N... it's not what it looks like..."

"Of course! Yes! How was I so blind to fall for your lying tongue?! I believed your sad stories and cute, puppy-like eyes, like some stupid, naive girl. Ugh! I stayed with you for damn Christmas, so that you don't feel lonely and could enjoy the holidays for probably the first time in your damn life instead of visiting my little brother!"

He doesn't respond to your words. He just holds your hand and strokes it gently as you continue to drunkenly mutter whatever's on your mind. And he listens carefully, focusing his attention on all the noteworthy words that will help him understand at least a little about how you feel and how he can fix the mess that this mad witch called his mother has gotten him into.

"I just thought you would turn out to be a better man." you whisper disappointedly, snuggling into his pillow. He finds the sight both endearing and heartbreaking.

He sighs and presses a kiss on your forehead, running his hand through your hair as you sleep deeply.

He won't lose you. Many people turned away from him; he let many of them go; he also lost many, but you won't be one of them. He may be selfish, but he's fed up with loneliness, and with you... with you, he feels like a completely different person. Someone he was before centuries of life shaped him into the man he is now. A general who was supposed to take care only of his Grisha, no matter what. A man who knew that power was something that had to be tamed, something that could not be allowed to go uncontrolled, and with you, he had lost too much of that control lately.

He had to fix everything.

And the sight of your tears drying on your cheek and neck, where he had placed tender kisses hours earlier, made him realise where he needed to start.

"You're already crawling here? I thought you'd be chasing your precious little heart first." his mother said this as he stood at the entrance to her cottage. She was finishing packing. A few years ago, he would have thanked the Saints for finally getting rid of her, but now he was glad he had made it before she left.

"Did you think I would just let you leave? That I'll let you escape and hide in a hole while I put out the fires you start?"

"I don't need anyone's permission. Besides, I doubt you'll be able to put out this fire. This little girl is quite a gasoline. She didn't need much to understand what she got herself into. Or to run away." he laughs mockingly as he steps inside. He leaves the door open to get on her nerves.

"Then, with great pleasure, I am here to say that she is back and sleeping peacefully in my bed."

"Stupid girl." she mutters under her breath and closes her bag. She throws it over her shoulder and finally turns to face him. "And what are you doing here? Shouldn't you be keeping an eye on her? After all, she can tell your little secret to the Sun Summoner. And then your plans…"

"I trust her." he says confidently, staring defiantly at his mother. "She won't do anything against me." he adds, feeling the necklace you gave him under his kefta and remembering the countless times you stood by his side, the countless times you showed him your devotion and affection.

"She trusted Kirigan. Not Aleksander." she notices. Aleksander feels bile rising in his throat and uncertainty, but he quickly shakes off the feeling, knowing that causing it is the purpose of his mother's words. And he learned better than to continue listening to her poison.

"She will trust the real me too."

They both stare at each other, waiting to see who will give in and whose defence will be low enough to strike a blow. This was mainly how conversations with his mother went. Eternal strategies, planning the next step, careful observation, and most importantly, keeping a mask and not expressing any real feelings and thoughts.

Maybe if he hadn't created the fold, things would have been different between them. But it wasn't. And he didn't know what hurt him more—that he had lost his only support over the centuries or that he couldn't just let her go or hate her completely as she deserved.

"After you lied to her? I doubt it. Remember what I told you? That greedy man may be terrible, but..."

"But there is nothing like a mad woman." he finishes for her, rolling his eyes at her poor attempt to make him doubt or dislike you in any way. "I have nothing to worry about."

"Then you should watch out for her. She may be Grisha, but she's as dead as we are, as is Miss Starkov. It's easy for something to happen to your precious little second-in-command."

"Be careful with your words." he growls menacingly, taking a step towards her. He glares at her with his evil gaze, but it does nothing for her. He knows he won't hurt her, just as she won't attack him... at least not yet. "If you put her in harm's way... think about what I might do..." an unspoken threat hangs between them.

"You were pathetic. You are pathetic. And you will always be pathetic, Aleksander."

He almost flinches at her remark. The eternal dispute between them. About Aleksander's attachment to people. Even the most fragile and weak ones, when Baghra abandoned her own children when they were not strong enough... Like she did with Ulla.

"Just like you'll always be alone, mother." he points this out and is happy to see the slight change in her facial expression as her mocking smirk disappears from her face for a moment. His small victory.

Baghra doesn't respond to his words. Shadows engulf the cabin, and before he knows it, she is gone, leaving him alone inside. He clenches his fists and spreads the shadows with a sweeping movement of his hand. He sighs, wondering how much Baghra told you was true about him and how much she made up to paint him as a power-hungry monster in your eyes.

He returns to the Little Palace in the morning. He's waiting for you to wake up, trying to read some reports and finish writing orders, but he can't bring himself to do it. All he thinks about is you, what he will tell you, how you will react, and whether you will hate him like his mother wanted you to.

When you finally wake up, he feels both delighted that his torment is over and concerned that he will have to talk to you soon. He walks up to you and hands you a cup of water and some hangover medicine.

But you don't accept it from him. Instead, you stare at him uncertainly, distrust shining brightly in your eyes, piercing his heart. He swallows, trying to get rid of the feeling of pain.

"You are aware I am the same man I was 24 hours ago?" he asks jokingly, setting the glass and medications on the nightstand next to you. He doesn't sit on the bed; he stands next to it, giving you some space. He must act methodically and carefully. Approaching you like a deer… or stag.

"No, you are not." you say it stubbornly, glancing at the things he left on the bedside table.

You raise a glass and look at the drugs carefully. Fortunately, he refrains from snorting, disbelieving that Baghra only needed a few hours of conversation to turn you against him. YOU. The only person he showed the parts of Aleksander hidden deeply in the darkest parts of himself from the world.

"Y/N... please. I just want to talk."

"About what? How have you been lying to me?" she asks him hostilely, looking at him defiantly. He knows that look and attitude. He had seen you like this more than once, when you were interrogating the Fjerdans they had captured. He never wanted to be at their place. And there he was.

"About how can I fix the way you think about me because of my mother, who isn't as much of my fan as you can guess now?"

"Well, at least now I know who you inherited this attitude from." you huff, getting out of bed. You reach for your folded kefta on the chair he left for you and start to put it on yourself.

"I beg your pardon? I am nothing like her."

"You even wrinkle your nose in the same way when something irritates or annoys you." you point it out, and he chuckles bitterly, shaking his head as he walks over to you. It's not too close, though. After yesterday, he knows better than to try to treat you with the same tenderness as before. Even if he desperately wants to.

"It's been many years since I thought of us as being anything remotely similar... of course, instead of being shadow summoners, immortals, and Morozovas."

"Wait, Morozova? Like... like the stag of Morozova?"

"Yes. Like the stag of my grandfather." he admits, shocking you even more. He watches the gears in your head turn as you uncover the hidden truth, connecting the lies Baghra told you with what he managed to reveal to you about himself.

"So not only are you… a Black Heretic, but you're also Morozova's grandson?"

"Y/N... I know it can seem complicated for you..."

"No! No. Nothing is complicated. You... you created the fold. And now you chase the stag to get its bones so you can amplify your and Alina's power to have full control of the fold. To take control of Ravka and call yourself a king."

"That's... not exactly the truth." he says, taking a step towards you. You automatically move away from him, and he clenches his jaw in frustration and anger at his mother and you for so easily believing Baghra's words.

"And what should I've believed in? You've been lying to me all this time!"

"Telling you half a story is not the same as lying." he defends himself, now staring at you with an equally obstinate gaze as you both stubbornly stick to your opinion.

"Maybe in your point of view, but not in mine." he sighs at your words, running a hand through his hair. You see his shadows hovering in the corners of his chambers as he stares at you in annoyance.

"I do not understand your behaviour. Nothing happened. You know that I was slowly revealing pieces of myself and my past. I guess you didn't expect me to tell you right away that I am... a Black Heretic. That I had lived a hundred lives, that I had to be reborn each time as somebody else to keep my existence in hiding. What other choice did I have?"

"That's the problem, Aleksander, you don't see any other solutions. You go with what is easiest for you." he huffs furiously and walks over to you. You fall back, bumping into a wall.

"Yes, because fawning over the king for hundreds of years to keep my Grisha safe is the easiest thing to do. You have no idea what I went through to give my people what we have now. If it weren't for me, you would be running away from Ravkans, Fjerdans, Shu Hans, and other beasts that want us dead or experiment on us. You don't know what it's like to go hungry, to have no roof over your head, to fear every day for your life and the lives of your loved ones, to see them die, and to bury every single person you have ever cared about. And do you know why? Because thanks to me, Grisha are now treated better than animals." he's now standing exactly a step away from you, breathing heavily with anger as he glares at you defiantly. He doesn't touch you, but you feel his heavy breath on your cheek.

"Creating a golden cage from the fold will not make us safe. You cannot isolate yourself from all evil and danger. You have to fight it. I never thought you were a coward, Aleksander. Don't make me believe you're really someone else."

You manage to push him past so you can walk towards the exit. He grabs your elbow, stopping you from leaving. Not hard enough to bruise, but enough to make you stop right there.

"What are you going to do?" he asks after a moment of heavy silence between the two of you, staring intensely at the back of your head, waiting for any movement from you.

"Nothing. You are still my general. Besides, I doubt anyone would believe me if I tried to tell the world who you really are. And don't worry. I won't tell Alina that you want to claim her power to yourself."

"It's not like that at all…"

"DON'T." you say furiously and sharply, turning to him slowly to meet his gaze. It takes all of your strength to hold back your tears that are also shining in his eyes. “Don't lie to me anymore.”

"Milaya..." he whispers desperatly, trembling as he is reaching to cup your cheek in his hand, but you pull away from him before his fingertips can touch your skin.

"If you want to prove that Baghra lied, that you weren't pretending to be a boy hurt by the world just because you were looking for some sick feeling of comfort or normality from me... if you want to prove that I'm not another Luda for you, someone who only reminds you of your great love, then prove it to me. Prove that you are a better man than Baghra taught you to be and describes you."

"The world needs a monster to change, Y/N, not a saint or hero."

"You are good, Aleksander." you say, taking a step towards him and cupping his cheeks with both of your hands. His beard tickles you a little, but you don't mind as you stroke his skin with your thumbs, keeping those dark, teary irises focused entirely on you. "I see it every time. In your patience with the little Grisha, in your concern for the well-being of each of us, in how sweet and protective you are around the people you care about... in the fact that despite hundreds of years, you still have a fragment of humanity preserved. You don't have to be rough. You don't have to be evil and ruthless. Baghra taught you that you won't survive by showing weakness and taking care of the people you outlive, but you are not like her. You are not a monster. Please don't prove me wrong. Don't prove to me that you don't care who suffers, Ravkans, Fjerdans, or others, as long as you win and achieve your goal, however honourable and glorious it may seem." you whisper the last sentence shakily and tilt his head, pressing a tender kiss to his forehead. You close your eyes for a moment, absorbing his warmth and scent and memorising it.

You finally pull away from him and leave his chambers without looking back. He gives you a longing look and closes his eyes, letting out a shaky breath. His eyes land on the plans spread out on his war table.

And he can't help but wonder: Is everything he has worked for all these centuries worth standing utterly alone at the end of his glorious purpose?

[jessiarts]

An addition to my previous post on this, where I said I'll be making pride Norse designs as a fuck you to the nazis appropriating the runes and other symbols (essentially an effort in making designs of them that are so blatantly gay they won't want to touch them anymore)

I've made another.

I was looking up how one might spell "pride" in runes for another design, and found that this particular way (ᛈᚱᛁᛞᛖ) hilariously resembles the word "crime"--- as in: "be gay do crime" (at least to me, and my friends over on discord who peer reviewed this lol)

So I made this:

It technically says "Be gay, do pride," but with the "pride" bit written in the aforementioned runes that resemble the word "crime," it makes it appear that this design also says, "Be gay, do crime." Hope you guys found it as amusing as I did.

Just like the last set, I'll be hosting the full-res file of this design as a free download on my Ko-Fi for people to use to make their own apparel/stickers/whatever. And also hosted on Threadless for those who can't print them on stuff themselves (or just don't feel like it) but still want something with this design on it. Each sale will also make an automatic donation to the It Gets Better Project.

I'll be making more rune designs and also be taking requests for a bit if there are any pride rune/Norse designs anyone might want to see made.

So.. yeah. Be gay do crime. lol

[irreplaceable-ecstasyy]

friends in the dark

REQUEST: Hiya!! I saw you were looking for brienne prompts?if you're still open I'd love to see something where breinne for some reason has to go to a bar or brothel and the reader works there and is flirting with her and gives brienne gay panic!

Wordcount: 3719 words

[Instead of steamy, this whole thing turned into fluff. I couldn't help it. ;-; Brienne deserves so much love. I was writing it in a way that showed that her trust might've been affected after Jaime left her so yeahh. Reader is just delicate with her :) ]

"Tonight is going to be a night of fun and free of responsibility!"

Having convinced the Small Council, Lord Bronn shepherded the little group into what appeared to be a regular building not too far from the castle. Had they not known King's Landing so well, they still would have guessed where the Master of Coin was leading them all for his nature was incredibly predictable. Lord Tyrion had no objections nor did Lord Davos who only wanted to escape the confinement of the castle. Podrick, somehow, got the chance to tag along as well. Grand maester Samwell had gone home without entertaining the thought and Ser Brienne wished she could have done the same.

Against her own will, she had been brought to a place of the night's entertainment and the sight of the scene before her was enough to make her skin crawl. Women and men alike strode past her with barely a shred of clothing on them. Even those lounging seemed perfectly comfortable in the absence of garments. It made her feel entirely overdressed in her uniform. Never had she imagined visiting a brothel, and now that she was here, she felt entirely exposed despite being the one in a fair amount of layers.

Lord Davos and Podrick had disappeared to fetch themselves a drink, much to her dismay. Left with Tyrion and Bronn, she could feel their cheeky little grins burning into the back of her skull. She refused to look at them to feed their amusement, but Bronn was already having a good laugh at her usual scowl.

"Enjoy, won't you?" he jested as he slung an arm over Brienne's shoulders. "I'm sure there'll be someone for you here. If you want one that looks like Jaime, I can get him. But if you fancy experimenting a little, you're at the right place."

Tyrion grimaced at the remark about his late brother and swatted at Bronn's side. "Be nice, Bronn. She won't go easy on you."

"While I appreciate your hospitality, I will be fine," Brienne muttered as she flicked the arm off her shoulders.

"Suit yourself. At least get yourself a drink. Wind down a bit," Bronn offered as he tossed her a coin. "First one's on me." With that, Bronn trotted off.

Tyrion rolled his eyes but offered Brienne a comforting smile. "You don't have to do anything you don't want to do. We just thought it would be nice for you to come out once in a while."

"I'll go get a drink. That's it."

"Be my guest. Don't feel like you have to stay either, okay? We know you can take care of yourself." Tyrion patted Brienne's arm then, with a hum, followed after Bronn through an archway to another room.

Left alone to her own devices, it was the perfect opportunity to leave. She had no desire or obligation to stay, unless Bronn caught her in the act, but she did not answer to him. The buzz of the brothel was livelier than she had seen in a while but it brought her some peace seeing that the people were happy. To some extent. It was nice basking in other people's thrills but she wanted no part in it. She turned on her heel and made her way to the door in a hurried stride, head bowed low to watch her steps than the scene around her.

"Leaving so soon?"

You saw her first when the Small Council came tottering in. They were not exactly the most subtle of people for everyone knew their faces but the one that stood out to you was the woman among them. The Lord Commander herself. It was astounding to you how a woman had managed to claim a seat among the council. A change in the system. A revelation.

She stopped in her stride to acknowledge you. You saw how her shoulders tensed up but after a quick look at you, she dropped them, releasing a slow breath. You were the only other person dressed in modest clothes. Something to look at rather than something to touch; a display. But Brienne did not know any better.

Shaking her head, Brienne stepped away from you. "I'm sorry but I'm not interested."

"But of course. Though, I'm sure a conversation wouldn't hurt."

"Wouldn't I be distracting you from your work?"

"The others are a bore," you scoffed. "I would much rather be in your company." You spoke with an air of fascination, the kind of glow you would not see in a worker who only desired to serve.

Brienne was uncertain but she was no fool. Years of experience taught her how to listen to the tells in people's voices when they were lying. She knew mockery like no other, in the face of it or concealed behind sweet nothings. It was too early to assume your intentions and there was nothing too strange just yet.

"Won't you consider... Podrick?" Brienne recommended. "Unless you've already had a go with him."

You threw your head back in laughter. "I've heard all about him. He's quite popular with the ladies, but no."

The laughter surprised her. Most well-groomed ladies would laugh into the back of her hand or let out a timed giggle. The way you had let the sound express itself in your physicality said more than enough about your character. You had nothing to hide.

She turned away from the door to face you properly once more. "Well, alright. I won't guarantee that I'm any fun to speak to."

"And yet I'm still here. You're not trying to chase me away, are you?" you teased.

"Oh, I don't mean to be rude."

"I was just joking! Come." You extended a hand to her. "Let us get some wine. Or do you prefer ale?"

"Ale will do just fine." She took your hand almost awkwardly but you were far too busy basking in your own delight.

"Because you are my guest, it's on the house~"

You sat her down on a plush couch, away from the other occupied ones where you could get your own privacy. Just before you joined her on the couch, you got someone to fetch the ale. While you draped yourself over the cushions, Brienne sat upright, hands planted firmly on her knees. What a sight she was. No other patron had ever swooned you the way she did and it was if you had forgotten how to breathe.

It took you a moment to recollect yourself from your rude staring, but Brienne had seen just how taken you were. It did nothing to ease her discomfort being in such a place but the somewhat civil exchange between the both of you was not at all unpleasant. She scooted a little closer to you.

"Forgive me for my silence. I did warn you that I'm not very interesting to speak with," she murmured under her breath. "I'm not sure what to do either."

"Speak whatever you wish. We can talk as regular folk do," you told her with a smile.

"But is there not a way for me to speak to you? As in- Well..." she fumbled with her words.

"I promise you, there is no catch. I speak to you as... An acquaintance. Consider me a friend." You rested a hand on her arm; something less intimate than resting it on her hand. "Don't think about my job. I'm not here for the sake of pleasure. I want to talk to you."

She could find no trick in your words. Even her suspicions were beginning to fade away of the possible fool you wanted to make out of her. You radiated comfort and it was all she wanted for the night while the rest of her companions were off in search of their own satisfaction. This was enough. When the ale came, she grabbed the mug and took a swig of it, a sigh following the large mouthful she had had. Swallow every other little insecurity that was nagging her at the back of her head, shut away the rest of the world and focus on who was in front of her, allow herself this bit of company without feeling guilty.

She had to admit, you were quite a beautiful person. She was as taken by you as you were of her but she did the better job of hiding it. The giveaway was the shine in her eyes when they found yours and they never seemed to break away from their gaze. She saw the ways your eyes smiled with the stretch of your lips, a pure glimmer in your own two irises. As you two sipped your ales, you would fill the silence with your giggling while Brienne stared.

If your beauty had not been the one to capture the Lord Commander, it might have been your tenderness. Anyone with a good heart could sway the knight, and receiving such treatment from someone who was beyond her league (or so she believed) was otherworldly.

Clearing her throat, she took another sip of ale and managed a small smile. "We could start by introducing ourselves..."

"I know who you are, Lord Commander," you purred as you inched closer to her.

"But I don't know who you are. It isn't very fair," she protested.

"You're right. It's only proper. But why should I give you my name if we will only meet tonight?" you asked, brows raised.

"I always remember a face and a name to it. I wish to remember the person who kept me company tonight while the rest of my companions left me on my own," she told you after a sip.

"What an honor! But it's no fun giving you the answers directly~"

"I'm not one for games."

"Will you wait then?"

"What for?"

"To see if I deserve to be remembered. We've only just started. We can deal with names later."

Without much of a thought, Brienne shrugged. "Sure. I will say this, my opinion will not change. I will get your name."

"I'm sure you will~"

"And what is that supposed to mean?" she challenged.

You leaned in close to her, smirking lips hovering mere inches away from hers. "Was that a challenge, my dear~?"

A sound alike a squeak rose from her throat but she remained where she was. Persistent. "Two can play this game." She inched away a little, unable to take the heat of the tension but the heat was coming from the red in her cheeks.

"I'm not one to back away from a challenge," you warned her with a grin.

"Good"- She was backed up into the side of the couch, your frame still looming over hers. How had you come so close? "I like a good challenger."

"Don't blame me when you're stuck with me for hours."

"I don't tire easily."

Oh, how it made you shiver.

But in the end, you two soon forgot the concept of time. Hours slipped from your fingertips, breezing away as you whisked Brienne away into deep conversation. During the late hours, more patrons came in but you two were too occupied to bother with the world around you. Whenever you could not hear one another, either of you would move a little closer and at this point, your knees were already touching. You thought you were imagining things but you could see Brienne's cheeks flushing red every time you listened to her speak. The most obvious reason would be the ale but she had stopped bringing the mug to her lips just a few hours ago. Being the weakest drink, there was no chance that the knight was already tipsy. The other reason was delusional. The adoration in her eyes. It was similar to what you have seen before from your patrons under the influence of alcohol and lust.

Those hungry wide eyed men. This adoration was gentler and Brienne was watching you as if you were a gem. When she knew you were listening and acknowledging her every word, she would look down at her lap before meeting your eyes again to continue her story. An easy tell, but you found it adorable. From the night alone, you learnt a number about Brienne, mostly of her soldier days while she learnt about your interests outside of your work. The burning question had been the path that led you to this place but you promised that it was a story for another time which she took willingly.

You shared a good laugh, shared tales you had never told your peers and best of all, you earned the trust of the Lord Commander. It was far too surreal.

However, all good things came to an end but in this case, there were other times to continue. Tyrion and the others stumbled in Brienne's direction to pick her up as the night aged, bugging her to hurry up but she barely budged. With courage, you took her hands from her knees and gave them a squeeze.

"Visit me soon, will you?"

"Not here," Brienne whispered. "Perhaps some place else."

"I'll be waiting~"

As she got up, her hands did not leave yours until they slipped out of your grasp but she did not leave just yet. She stopped the group for a brief second to ask you one important question.

"So, whose company did I have the pleasure of having?"

Smiling, you bowed playfully. "[Y/N], at your service."

For the first time, Brienne gave you a full smile. "It was an honor to have your company, [Y/N]."

"And yours too, Lord Commander."

You saw her off at the door with her companions and waved them goodbye. What a strangely wonderful day it was. Meeting the Lord Commander and the rest of the Small Council. There was truly nothing that could top this day. Once they were out of sight, you retreated to your quarters, more ecstatic than ever before.

Brienne kept her composure until she arrived back at the castle. She was grateful for the candlelit hallways as they did not reveal secrets as much as the Sun did. In plain sight, she did not have to hide the reddening in her cheeks or bother if anyone saw her clutching her chest, over her rapidly beating heart. She looked more disturbed that stricken in the dark. She had always been known to dwell in moments she should leave behind but it was the moment that clung on to her that she could not shake off.

Thank the Gods that Tyrion and the others had disappeared somewhere at the courtyard. She could not bear to tolerate their humiliation as the events of the night played through her head.

The touch of your hand on hers when she had reached out to grab the jug to refill your drinks, the genuine kindness you had given to her and not a single lie in your sweet words. The suggestiveness in the phrases you would slip her by; she caught each one of them. In all disregard to masculinity and femininity, on a rare occasion such as this, she felt like a person.

She knew she would never get another chance at feeling so alive again, but now she knew a name to the face she would seek for in the city. Perhaps next time she would dare to do more and take the step forward. Maybe she would be the one to make the first move. Gods, what was she to do? So helplessly attached already to anyone who cared to give her a chance.

She needed it all again, even if you were just a friend in the dark. She had to have you.

TEENIE BONUS:

Weeks went by but the Lord Commander was not a distant memory. Some part of you hoped to see her one day but you knew that the chances were slim. After getting to know her from that one night, it was obvious that she was not the sort of woman one would find lingering in a place like this. You often saw the King's Hand as well as a few others in the Small Council. They would approach you occasionally to tease you about having the honor of the Lord Commander's company but other than that, there came no regards from the lady.

That was until you received news of a letter waiting for you in your shared quarters. The other girls were herded at your bed, sat around the envelope where it rested on your pillow. Letters from secret and not-so-subtle admirers were not uncommon but there had never been excitement in the room like this. Most letters would be thrown away but you soon came to understand why the girls were eager to see who it was from.

A wax seal.

Only a noble would use anything so grand to seal a slip of paper. It was bold too for a noble to be in contact with such a lowly person, and to make it clear it had been from them. At least it kept the letter out of the bin or away from prying eyes.

Upon studying the seal, there was a sigil you did not recognize. A smaller house of moons and suns. A smart move. With a sigil or not, the girls' patience ran thin and they beckoned you to open the letter. You felt like one of those pretty young girls in frilly dresses at a fancy sleepover, huddled up with your friends in a nice plush bed to open a letter from your secret admirer. This may be the only time you ever felt so childish and giddy. Without a moment to spare, you popped the seal open carefully to avoid damaging the paper and unfolded the letter.

The girls began to cry out, a flurry of questions hurtling at you as you struggled to read what was written. Reading alone was a tricky task and the commotion was no help at all. It was a short letter, thankfully, and a clear observation that you had made was that this was no ordinary letter. It was an invitation.

"What does it say?!" you heard.

"Who's it from??"

"Do you know them?!"

You shook your head as you read it out to them. "It's uh- It's an invitation to the Summer's Ball. And it's addressed to me." You pointed to what had been an empty space where your name was written. "There is an address to a dressmaker and a set time to go there."

"That's tomorrow!" a girl in the far back squealed.

"You must go!" another of the girls cried out. "This is an opportunity you can't miss!"

"But I haven't got much money to pay for a nice dress," you muttered as you tossed the invite into your drawer.

"Maybe the person who sent you this will meet you at the dressmaker? Your partner-to-be for the ball," another girl swooned.

"I could always stop by and see what happens."

"Yes! Then, you'll come to us and tell us all about it."

"Now, don't get jealous when I've gone to the ball with many stories to tell." You flopped onto your back and waved the girls off, sending them scurrying back to their beds now that the whole ordeal was over.

"Well, it depends on who this secret person is~" you heard someone hum.

"I'm sure it'll be someone absolutely fucking gorgeous," you mused.

"In your dreams you will!" The girls all scoffed and laughed as they settled into their beds.

They continued to shriek and giggle through the night like children while you found yourself sleeping with surprising ease. It was a dreamless sleep, one of the most peaceful rests you have had in a long while. It was possible that it had something to do with the secret sender of this invitation for only one person came to mind. Or rather, a few. The Hand of the King, who you were already acquainted with, would be considerate enough to invite you as a friend to see a certain someone again, and Ser Bronn, on the other hand, would invite you to jab at the Lord Commander. The Lord Commander herself sending the invitation was more of wishful thinking.

You had not heard a word from her but you remembered her words. Not here. Perhaps some place else. Was this it? Away from this hellhole and in the castle? It was far too much like a fairytale to believe in, but you wanted to see where this would take it.

You were ready to be faced with a brutal trick as soon as you left to find the dressmaker's shop. After all, no one in their right mind would bring a whore to a ball. You still dressed up for appearances were a selling trade to lure people into the brothel, but you could not help but feel uncomfortable in the clothes you worse so often.

What made your skin crawl even more under the summer sun was the sight of the dressmaker's shop. You were ready for humiliation, for the girls to be there to laugh at you for falling for something so stupid. For being so naïve.

As you trudged towards the shop, a person by the window caught your eye. You stopped in your stride to stare just for a moment to see if you were simply daydreaming, but for once, your eyes were not deceiving you. Speaking to the dressmaker was the Lord Commander herself. Free of her armor, she donned a lovely blue with a sigil sewn to her top. A sigil of moons and suns. The same one on the letter. You felt your heart skip a beat when she noticed you from where you stood, a smile gracing her lips. Before you could walk any further, she was already out the door, coming to meet you.

"I didn't think we'd meet again," you said with a laugh.

She bowed her head in greeting, her smile growing in the slightest. "I said we would meet some place else. And here we are." In the daylight, Brienne was drinking in the sight of you, your true self outside the silks and false glamor. "It's um... It's good to see you again."